#which is why from that point on he won’t allow ghosts to possess him anymore unless they can prove

[psychoticwillgraham]

this is the small bit of what I’ve got so far for the medium will/ghost hannibal au and ngl i kinda made myself cry a bit while writing this last night. gonna go over it later and add more stuff, but this is what I’ve got so far. and yes, i took a LOT of liberties with Will’s backstory so yeah. there’s definitely some inconsistencies in here and some clumsy wording, but I wrote this at 10:30pm when i was falling asleep at my phone.

TW: gun violence, domestic violence, and implied child abuse

Death followed Will Graham wherever he went, even into the deepest corners of his mind.

It seeped into every facet of his life and his literal being, painting his insides and deepest, darkest thoughts in a thick, black, suffocating tar. No matter what he did, death wouldn’t release its hold on him. No, not even once he was dead himself. The shadow of it had loomed large over him since he was born, clawing its way into his reality. At the tender age of five years old, Will’s mother had ‘suddenly vanished’ with the only witnesses being his father and himself. He hadn’t remembered everything, since most of it had been blocked out of his mind, locked away in the depths of his very soul, but he did remember one thing.

The sound of the gunshot, the wide, blank stare of his mother’s dead eyes as she slumped to the floor, bits of brain matter and blood clinging to Will’s clothes and unruly curls, and his own screaming. He remembered the sharp, nauseating smell of bleach on the hardwood floors of their home, his father barking orders at him to scrub the floor clean and look away as he carried the limp, cold, lifeless body of his mother out back, into the bottomless swamps of their property. The bleach had stung his nose and brought tears to his eyes as his small, trembling hands went to work, erasing the evidence of what had just transpired. In the early twilight hours of that muggy, humid summer night, Will’s father had returned from his grim mission, now stone cold sober and exhausted. Will had tucked himself into bed that night in his father’s absence, sobbing to himself, alone and in shock in his small, dark room.

He didn’t sleep, not truly, for a whole month afterward. His nightmares were plagued with the image of his mother’s ghost haunting the swamps around their home, her arms reaching from the muck to drag him in with her, kicking and screaming, only for his cries to go unheard. He could almost still feel the phantom sensations of choking on the thick, murky water as it flooded his lungs, clogging them full of the muck of the swamp until it weighed him down to the very bottom of the bayou. Whenever he awoke, he would be soaked in sweat, screaming himself awake and coughing, trying to expel the water from his lungs that never existed.

The worst thing though, was the deep seated guilt he felt for not doing anything to help her. For helping to cover it up, to pretend it never happened when asked by law enforcement. An investigation was never opened, and she was never declared dead. Just missing, perhaps wandering off into the swamplands of Louisiana, like countless other poor souls before her. Another nameless face consumed by the endless hunger of Mother Nature. Will hadn’t dared speak the truth, lest he suffer the same fate as her. The only relief he’d ever get was the fact that he’d made it out of that house alive, and to make his life worth something. That, and the knowledge that his father had died as he lived, poor and destitute, a drunkard and forgotten.

When Will learned of his death, he was already gone, in college and bettering himself, making a future for himself where he’d be respected. He’d returned home, to the town he was born in, raised in, and claimed his father’s body for burial. He got it released to him as his only surviving relative and did what only felt right.

He took his body to the swamplands on their property where his father had unceremoniously fed his mother to them, and tossed it without a single tear shed and no qualms about it into the water. He’d felt no guilt at the time, and still didn’t to this day. In truth, it wasn’t entirely his own decision. It’d been his mother’s, her ghost appearing to him mere months after her death, and haunting him, following him wherever he went. He’d accumulated other ghosts along the way, most of them having let him be eventually. But not her. Not until the moment he dumped his father’s worthless body into the swamp. She had appeared to him in his small, pitiful boat, with her shimmering hand on his shoulder, her touch as gentle as it ever was.

“I forgive you, Will,” she’d whispered into his ear, as Will had finally let the dam of his emotions break, the years of repressed sorrow and trauma flowing freely. She’d looked as she had the night she died, her long, brown hair messy and tangled from sleep, her white nightgown enveloping her small frame. The only difference was that her skull was open, gaping and bloody where a chunk of it had been blown off from the force of the bullet. Still, she’d smiled down at him, shushing him as he’d sobbed, curling in on himself on that lone boat in the bayou, with only her and the nighttime wildlife singing their hymns around them in the light of the full moon.

[prose-for-hire]

Face your demon

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: Could you do A Spike x reader where the reader is in love with him, but doesn't show her emotions (except for getting easily flustered around him), but Spike overhears hears her talking to willow about it and he confronts her, ending in them being together?

Requested by: @wiccanindigo​

Requested tags: @fictionalhoomanofnowhere @artsymaddie​ @shy-ginger-in-the-graveyard​ @cameo-greaves​

​You were pretty neutral in public. Your face rarely shifted other than to a polite smile or perhaps a confused frown should the moment take you by surprise. Other than this human reaction, you would usually maintain a resting face. One that appeared to most as if you didn’t wish to be in their company. Or anywhere at all really.

You felt a lot. You really cared about your friends, the people you loved. It was just near-impossible to express this. At least, in a way that you were comfortable. It was much easier to hold people at a distance. That way, you didn’t risk rejection. Or painful, bitter emotions that you didn’t enjoy.

So, you tended to hide your emotional side completely. Rather than wrestle with articulating the way you felt. It wasn’t necessarily a conscious decision, just one that you lived with. You struggled expressing your emotions – not only on your face but also verbally. Any way, really. It could be so hard.

Luckily for you though, you had some very caring and empathetic friends. The Scoobies. They understood and gave you the time you needed – between fighting apocalypses of course.

You were sat in the Magic box with all of your friends around you. Buffy, Willow, Xander, Anya, Tara and Giles. You were characteristically just staring into the centre of the room as the usual antics played out around you.

You contributed now and again although not as passionately as the others, it must be said. You tended to bounce off of someone else’s point and repeat it if you agreed with it with a shrug. As if you would rather be anywhere but there.

You weren’t shy. In fact you came across as the complete opposite. Cool, collected. Near apathetic should your friends not understand how deeply you truly did care – you just didn’t express it as much as most. There was no need to gush in your book. You weren’t one to keep your heart on your sleeve and make the entire room look at it.

Well, that was until him.

Spike ran in, slamming the door shut behind him. It slammed so hard the entire store shook and he sauntered in as if it was nothing. It made the corners of your mouth tug into an almost-smile but you looked down to avoid anyone seeing.

There he was, your weakness. The one that could render you speechless. A flustered mess. A heat would rise in your cheeks and your voice would appear weak and just wholly unlike yourself.

You had it bad. He always did this, walking in with that swagger. Those cheekbones. That look…

His eyes were straight on you. As they always were. You were a mystery to him, one he was so desperate to figure out. You had noticed the way he always made his way to you. The way he dropped his voice and made comments about the others in the room in the hopes of you cracking a smile.

You spoke to him as much as you could, but often your words failed you. You didn’t want to give anything away. Couldn’t. You didn’t want him to tease you, reject you in such a painful way.

He was Spike, after all. He could have anyone he wanted you were sure of it.

The point was, though, that he wanted you. And you were too wrapped up in focusing on how to breath properly when he was around that you didn’t notice.

Spike found your resting face beautifully morbid. He found you to be strong-willed and the very little he sensed or heard from you he found himself clinging to. You would be stamped onto his brain for the rest of his un-life, he was sure of it.

He was in so deep. Thought about you constantly. Wanted to know what you were doing, what you were thinking. Imagined himself by your side. Taking you into his bed… oh, and I won’t even start on the dreams. They left him aching. Such deep, unending desire. For you. God, it could only ever be you.

“Alright, pet? Don’t rush to say you missed me, written on your face already” He smouldered in that way he did. Hoping for any kind of reaction.

You looked up at him before immediately looking away. A ghost of a smile on your face as you shifted in your seat. He took this as an invitation to sit beside you and so he did.

“Hi Spike” You just about managed before your voice wavered. You didn’t like the way he rendered you this flustered mess. But, at the same time you couldn’t help but completely love it.

Your usual cool demeanour gone. Lost in those beautiful eyes of his. You could happily live in his eyes for the rest of your life.

You managed to position yourself in your seat in such a way that meant he made up most of you vision, without it looking glaringly obvious to anyone else. He lived in your peripheral vision. At least this way a little part of him was yours.

You became a little brave and moved your eyes to look at him properly, no longer just from the side. He was beautiful. The way that t-shirt clung perfectly to his torso. The way his leather duster managed to land in such a relaxed way on his shoulders. Effortless cool. Or, that’s what you assumed.

You loved him. His looks. His personality. Just everything. You couldn’t escape it.

Something snapped you out of staring. Everyone’s eyes were suddenly on you. Staring.

“Huh?” You asked, feeling a heat rise in your cheeks as he turned to face you properly too. You had apparently managed to miss the entire meeting. Not one scrap of the plan had entered your head. You were consumed by him instead.

“Y/n? You sure that’s okay?”

“We’ll be fine on patrol, right love?” Spike smirked at the rest of the room and raised an eyebrow which made everyone reconsider.

“We can switch if evil dead makes you uncomfortable” Xander offered kindly which made spike glare. He wanted you to himself.

“No that’s good- uh, fine. It’s fine. I’ll patrol with Spike” you rushed out at a completely different pace than anyone was used to hearing you speak.

What you were supposed to be looking for, you didn’t know. You hadn’t been listening just focusing on regulating your breathing. Wiping the sweat from your palms at the proximity. He was sat so close to you. You wanted to just lean against him. Whisper how you felt.

You and Spike walked out into the cool night air. Mostly in silence, although you could almost hear the cogs in his mind whirring to come up with something to say. You didn’t realise but he was trying to impress you. Trying to get you to smile. He loved it when you smiled. Near melted.

He then finally asked something he had so wanted to say to you. For such a long time.

“We could, uh, blow this off, go for a drink?” He let the proposition hang in the air.

You didn’t even begin to consider this had been something more than a teasing joke because he didn’t want to be stuck patrolling anymore. Just wanted to rebel against Buffy’s sudden authority in his life.

“Yeah, because I’ve always thought you’d look great with a redwood through your chest” You spoke, referring to what Buffy would do to him should he leave you or the demon to run through the streets.

“Pet-”

“It’d make a pretty accessory. Bring out your eyes” You deadpanned and he just stared. Why were you like this? Why did your flirting so quickly descend into just being rude?

It was like a disease. You were riddled with it. Any sense that your mouth would spill the contents of your mind and something took over. Possessed you, began to say the very opposite of what you wished to say.

You wanted him to ask you out for a drink. Tell you that you looked nice, that he felt lucky to have someone like you to take out. Have on his arm. Show off. You wanted to loop your arms around him and embrace him. Kiss his lips. Have him in your bed. His body yours and only yours.

But, instead, you had just told him he would look better dead. Or, well, more dead. He had taken this as a firm no, you didn’t want to go out with him. He looked upwards, trying to stop the stinging at the back of his eyes before he nodded firmly and just shrugged.

“Whatever, let’s find this vamp”

Oh, right. It was a vampire. You were supposed to be looking for a vampire. That at least narrowed it down… kind of.

Both of you took turns in glancing at the person beside them. So desperately wishing to touch them. Have some kind of intimacy. It was hard having the one that you loved so close and yet emotionally so far away.

There was a distance. A canyon between you that you both wished to cross. But it was so hard. There would be no turning back.

You never caught up with the vampire you were meant to find and Spike walked you home instead when it got too late. You tried to thank him for the gesture but he had turned and walked away. Licking his wound at the rejection you had inflicted upon him without realising.

Despite the fact you had hurt him though, he had needed to make sure you got in safe. Protecting you from harm meant everything even if you wouldn’t give him the time of day.

It had been a couple of days since this unwitting rejection and you and Willow had arrived early waiting to meet with the others at the Magic Box. Giles had gone to pick up some order sat the back. Which left just you and your friend. Well, that’s what you thought anyway.

She was the only one that knew how you felt for Spike. She had seen you watching him, a new expression unlocked on your face. As if she had won a quest or something in a video game and been allowed to see it.

Conversation had quickly turned to this man that you were so in love with it managed to fluster even you. You near hid your face from your friend at even the implication you liked him. But you were comfortable that Willow was being supportive.

You discussed that you liked him. Truly admitted it out loud for the first time. Not realising that the man himself was stood around the corner listening. He loved to hear your voice and so had stayed back because you seemed to speak less in his company.

Spike’s jaw tensed as he heard you talking about this mystery man though. He had never heard you gush this way before. Stumbling over your words to describe such longing. You usually appeared so calm, collected. He wished to be the one that sent you weak at the knees in the way that this nameless idiot did. He guessed it was probably Xander.

Stupid bloody Xander. Gormless nit.

“Maybe, uh, you should tell him? You can’t know his feelings unless you try” Willow offered.

Spike guiltily hoped that you would have to face rejection so that he could comfort you instead. Spend more time with you, prove to you that you could trust him with your emotions. He so longed to have your attention. Your trust.

“I can’t… I-it’s too hard” You sighed and his spirits lifted, maybe this would be his chance instead. While you tried to build up your courage, he could show you how much you meant to him. How much he wanted you.

Nothing could have prepared him for what came out of your mouth next. There had been only a slight pause while you sifted through your emotions.

“He’s so- he’s… he’s Spike” You had no other description other than this spike-ness was all that you wanted. You near craved it. But also these words explained how hard it was. How trying to speak to him was near impossible. Willow nodded in understanding and patted your shoulder sympathetically.

“It could be good for you, y’know? Facing your, uh, demon…” Willow’s voice dried up. Turned into a little squeak. You looked up, confused.

There he was, as if your longing had been a magnet to the man himself. Your eyes bulged and your mouth opened in shock. The most your face had ever given away.

Willow stumbled over some excuse that neither Spike nor you heard before she left for the exit. Allowing you to both speak.

“I’m the bloke you’ve been harpin’ on about?” He said slowly. He did this only because he wanted to hear it from your mouth again. As if he wasn’t entirely sure if he had dreamed it or not.

“We don’t have to make it into a big deal… I’m sure I’ll, uh, get over it” You tried, avoiding the rejection you could feel coming.

“Don’t” He said quickly, “God, please bloody don’t get over it. You’d break a poor dead man’s heart if you did”

“What?” You asked, frowning in confusion. He couldn’t possibly feel the same way… could he?

“Don’t be daft, love. Asked you for a drink didn’t I? Trailed after you despite you not even pretending to take an interest. Been there just in the nick of time before somethin’ nasty ate you?” He reeled off things he had pretty much done in the last fourty-eight hours. It made you gasp with surprise. How had you missed this? “Tell me I haven’t bent over bloody backwards for even a shred of your affection,”

“Spike…” You looked away, it was so hard. You didn’t even know how to begin to say what you needed to.

“Please, don’t shy away. Can’t stand it when your eyes wander…”

“Spike, I…” He took your hand, nodding subtly to show that he was there. That he liked you, that he needed to hear it. Whatever it may be, “I love you”

Spike pulled you into him immediately, knowing this must have bee hard for you. He was beginning to understand. You were like him, petrified of the rejection. The idea that the one that held such promise and stirred such feeling could ruin everything. You restored his faith in love. Rekindled his affections for the notion as well as confirming that he loved you too.

He crashed his lips to yours, his reply to your words communicated in this way. And you understood completely. Lips moving against yours, a display of affection only for you. he was firm in his love but so very tender. He embraced you close, a hand along the small of your back that made you shiver and lean further into him. Deepening this perfect kiss.

You parted, somewhat reluctantly and just gazed at the other for a moment before he spoke.

“I’m just glad you don’t have eyes for the whelp” Spike grinned and it made your face brighten. A smile. One that he savoured as you rolled your eyes at him being so pleased you liked him more than Xander.

He took your hand in his and sauntered beside you. Chest puffed out and proud to have you by his side. As if you had just gifted him the entire world.

Now you just had to break it to your friends. There was no way you would be hiding this.

[goodlucktai]

a little room to grow

@natsumeweek 2021 day 5; freedom/possession

read on ao3

(previous part)

x

Hinata takes one look at them and says, “Holy shit. Get in here, Natoris.”

So they must look pretty bad, then. 

Takashi is uncharacteristically quiet, going right to the sofa and gathering Hinata’s cat up in his arms. 

Hinata watches him for a moment, turns and stares directly into Shuuichi’s face, and then heads into the kitchen to snatch up a takeout menu that she keeps permanently stuck to the front of her fridge under a huge Cinnamoroll magnet.

“Sit,” Hinata says with a jerk of her chin towards the table. She tucks her cellphone between her shoulder and her ear and unfolds the paper menu with a business-like snap. “I’m ordering enough junk food for all three of us, and then you’re going to tell me why you look like that.”

Shuuichi sits. 

Hinata lives with her single mother, who works thirds, and her aunt, who doesn’t work but often has somewhere else to be. It’s unlikely either of them are going to make an appearance tonight.

The TV is on in the living room, playing what sounds like Sailor Moon. Takashi is watching it just because it’s already on, but he’s slowly becoming more invested the longer he sits there—Shuichi can tell from the way his hand on the little cat in his lap slows its petting, the way his round brown eyes become fixed on the screen. The sounds of traffic and rain outside are muted, the outside world hardly existing past what little pieces of it make it through the open window in the kitchen. 

It’s peaceful here. It’s almost home, even.

Hinata puts the phone down, sits across from Shuuichi, and crosses her arms on top of the table. Her silence is expectant.

Shuuichi says, “I don’t think I’m going to university.”

His friend inclines her head, an invitation to go on. 

“The university my father wants me to go to is almost an hour away from here,” Shuuichi says, clenching his fists. “And it wouldn’t be possible for Takashi to transfer there, because someone in the school district administration is a cousin of his or something. Word got around about his behavior, and they don’t think he’d be a good addition to their student body.”

“Takashi’s relatives haven’t had anything to do with him since he was five,” Hinata says hotly. “What the hell do they know about his behavior? He’d be the best thing to happen to that school in the last hundred years.”

Shuuichi, who completely agrees with her, says, “You’re biased.”

“I’m right.” She taps her fingers anxiously against the table. “Let me guess, your dad—”

“Doesn’t see the problem. Told me I was going anyway.” Shuuichi barks a tense, humorless laugh, sitting back and pushing a hand through his hair. “Could you imagine? Me, leaving Takashi in that house, with those people? With no one but ghosts to talk to?”

It was inevitable that Hinata would find out about Shuuichi and his brother’s ‘gift,’ given how much time they spend together and all the odd things Takashi says on a daily basis. The most remarkable thing to come of the ultimate reveal was the solid three months she spent relentlessly trying to bribe, coerce and blackmail Shuuichi into using his paper magic to send her notes during school hours, because they were put in different classes in their third year. 

Now, she frowns deeply, and says, “No. That won’t do. So what’s the plan?” 

“I’m working on it,” Shuuichi replies. 

“I would be okay,” Takashi pipes up. Shuuichi looks up to find his little brother standing by the table with wide, grave eyes. He’s tugging anxiously at the cuffs of his sleeves. The worry on his face doesn’t belong there. It doesn’t fit someone his age. “If you had to go.”

Shuuichi pushes his chair back and lifts his arm. Takashi rounds the table and allows himself to be tucked against Shuuichi’s side snugly. 

“Maybe you would, but I wouldn’t,” Shuuichi says. “I’d miss bugging you too much.”

“I mean it,” Takashi says stubbornly. “I don’t want you to get yelled at anymore.”

“I mean it, too,” Shuuichi replies. “Dad can yell all he wants. You’re stuck with me, squirt.”

Saying it out loud settles something anxious that’s been rattling around in his chest. Knowing what he has to do makes it easier to focus on the steps that come next. For now, he tilts to the side so that he can rest enough of his weight on his little brother that he starts to sag underneath it.

“Nii-san! Stop, you’re heavy!”

“What was that?” Shuuichi says loudly, tilting farther, half out of his chair at this point. “I’m heavy? Is that what you said?”

The doorbell rings, and Hinata says, “No no, I’ll get it, don’t let me interrupt your intricate bonding rituals,” which is a cue that they should stop messing around and go help her carry in the frankly staggering amount of takeout bags a weary-looking delivery boy is wielding on the porch. 

“Munchkin, will you get some glasses and the iced tea?” Hinata asks. “Let’s eat in front of the TV like slobs.”

Takashi slides back into the kitchen, skidding a little too far in his socks and knocking the paper towels off the counter, and Shuuichi snorts. It feels like the first time he’s smiled in a year. 

Hinata touches his arm. “Hey,” she says seriously. “I’m going to visit Isamu on Thursday, and I’m staying for about a week. You two should come with. Stop thinking about all this stuff for a bit and give yourself a break.”

“I don’t want to bother you guys—”

“Try not to be an idiot for once in your life,” Hinata says with an exaggerated air of total exhaustion. “You know it wouldn’t be a bother. Besides, Isamu has a little sister Takashi’s age, and she’s into all kinds of weird stuff. They’d probably get along like a house on fire.”

Shuuichi thinks a week in the country sounds pretty good, actually. He’s mulling it over when Takashi comes running; with a stack of colorful plastic glasses in one hand, a pitcher of tea in the other, and a box of Koala March tucked into the crook of his elbow.

“Can I have these, nee-san?” he asks brightly. He looks nine years old again instead of ninety, all that worry from earlier finally unseated. 

“Oh, I guess,” Hinata says with deep reluctance, as if she didn’t buy them specifically for Takashi in the first place. She doesn’t even like chocolate. “Dinner first, though! Put those koalas where I can see them!”

She cares about Takashi like it’s effortless. Like it just makes sense to make space for him in her home and keep his favorite snacks in her kitchen. Considering the place they came here from, it disarms Shuuichi completely.

“We’ll go with you,” he says without thinking.

“Of course you will,” Hinata replies immediately. “I was only asking to be polite. Now eat your food.”

And that’s how they wind up in Hitoyoshi, Kumamoto, of all places. It’s unmistakably beautiful but Shuuichi only gets a brief moment to appreciate the scenery before Hinata is dragging him—and by extension, Takashi—out of the station to the street outside, where a familiar face is waiting. 

She releases Shuuichi in order to fling herself bodily at Isamu, who doesn’t so much as bat an eye. Hinata is much taller than her boyfriend, which Shuuichi thinks is just typical of Hinata, but Isamu doesn’t care. She could be seventeen feet tall and weigh a thousand pounds and he would still find a way to hold her. 

“Hey,” he says over her shoulder, lifting one hand to wave at the Natoris. “Hug train is pulling out of the station, get yours before it’s gone.”

Laughing, Shuuichi says, “I’m good. Takashi?”

“No, thank you,” Takashi says politely.

“Your loss.” Hinata sniffs, and busies herself with picking up the bags she’d flung to the ground. “Is your sister at home?”

“Mhm,” Isamu says, taking one of Takashi’s bags and slinging it over his own shoulder. “She’s shy. I’m amazed she agreed to meet you guys at all. Bribery was involved.”

Takashi shuffles, glancing sideways at Shuuichi. 

“I’ll bet you two-thousand yen that you’re best friends by the end of the day,” Shuuichi says at once, to make the situation a win-win. That always works.

Sure enough, Takashi holds out his hand. “Deal.”

They shake on it solemnly. 

Isamu gives Shuuichi a deeply approving look and says, “I’ll have to remember that one.”

Tooru and Takashi are actually best friends within about an hour and a half. 

Once the Natoris have been settled into a large guest room and wandered around on a cheap tour of the estate, and Hinata has dumped all of her stuff in her boyfriend’s bedroom, Isamu drags Tooru out of hiding to eat a late lunch with them. 

Tooru shuffles into the chair across from Takashi and makes her polite introduction, and then mumbles that she only has a couple of friends so she isn’t sure what they ought to talk about. Takashi blithely replies that he doesn’t have any friends, because he can see yokai and people tend to think that’s strange. Shuuichi and Hinata are both frozen, holding their chopsticks halfway to their mouths as they wait to see which way this is going to go, but Isamu just takes an unhurried sip of tea.

And then Tooru lunges across the table to seize Takashi’s hands, shouting, “You can see yokai? You have to come meet my grandpa!” and all but drags him out of the kitchen, their lunches left untouched. 

“You might never get your brother back,” Isamu says mildly. “That’s okay, there’s enough space here for two little weirdos.”

“So you believe in ghosts now?” Hinata demands. 

“I don’t believe in things I can’t see for myself,” Isamu replies. He waits a beat, rolling a thought around in his head like a marble, and then adds reluctantly, “But if three people I trust can see them, maybe that’s just as good. I already apologized to gramps for thinking he was just a delusional old man.”

“You did not say that to your grandpa,” Shuuichi says, horrified. 

“I didn’t say it, I just said I was sorry for thinking it.” Isamu sits back in his chair, frowning at his plate. “Tooru never needed any proof. She believes him just because she loves him. I think there’s value in that. Figured I’d give it a try.”

When Shuuichi tracks the kids down later, they’ve multiplied. Sasago and Urihime are supervising as Tooru, Takashi, and two little boys of a similar age chase each other around the garden, a half-dozen little yokai running underfoot. 

Takashi spots him and brightens, breaking away from the game to jump up onto the porch and slam into Shuuichi’s side. Shuuichi ruffles his hair, because it’s already a windswept mess, and it makes Takashi wrinkle his nose in annoyance. 

“Taki-ojisan wasn’t feeling well, so he’s taking a nap,” Takashi explains. He’s flushed from the sun and grass-stained. “We had fun, though. All of his yokai friends had lots of things they wanted to say to him so we played telephone. Mostly they were teasing him, which didn’t seem very nice, but it made oji-san laugh a lot.”

“And who are those two?” Shuuichi asks, nodding at the unfamiliar boys. 

“Tooru’s friends from school. They were coming by to see if Tooru wanted to go to the river with them, and she introduced me.” Shyly, Takashi adds, “They’re nice.”

“Hey!” the russet-haired boy calls over. “Are we going swimming or what?” 

“Can we, please?” Tooru asks, folding her hands together.

His brother gazes up at him with eyes that are big and hopeful, a look that has worked for him for years. Shuuichi shakes his head ruefully. 

“As long as you stay with Tooru, and don’t let your phone get soaked,” he says sternly. “And you know to answer when I call, right?” 

“Right,” Takashi says, without attitude, because that’s one of their most important rules. “Can I take Urihime with me? She’ll throw Satoru in the water if I ask her to, Sasago won’t.”

“For that reason alone, you’re taking Sasago,” Shuuichi replies. 

It’s a noisy circus troupe of kids who finally leave, armed with towels and a bag of snacks pilfered from the kitchen and an entourage of rowdy spirits that only one of them can see. 

Shuuichi leans against the gate, watching them go. He’s wary of the unfamiliar yokai, but with his shiki nearby and clearly unbothered, he doesn’t see a reason to break up the strange congregation. Over the years, he’s had to get used to the way Takashi attracts these things. They come to him like moths to a flame. 

Most exorcists hate yokai, but Shuuichi doesn’t. How could he? His little brother is a medium, and some of the only people he can count on to babysit for him are his familiars. Yokai are so much a part of his life that to hate them would be to fill his heart with hatred, and he doesn’t have room in his heart for all that. It’s too full of other things. 

Hinata joins him by the door. 

“You know,” she says carefully, “I was going to bring this up later, but…the university that Isamu and I are going to is only a half-hour away from here. And the schools here are really good.”

Shuuichi stands in the sun, watches his little brother laugh with children his own age, and exhales.

[geekgirles]

Your Heart

Chapter 5 -- Research

Word Count: 12429

READ ON AO3

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” Tucker complained for the umpteenth time. 

After realising the only way to end his regular meetings with Lady Arcana once and for all would be finding information on the portals she could use to help him close them, Danny took a very-Jazz-like decision; to immerse himself in countless moldy, old books in search for answers. 

Only he dragged Tucker and his sister along to put an end to the torture sooner. A decision which, whereas Jazz encouraged wholeheartedly, Tucker was none too pleased with. 

“Oh, quit your whining, Tucker.” Jazz admonished from the floor, a few volumes piled up around her. “Every time you complain, it’s precious time we’re wasting. Maybe I don’t mind being holed up here reading with you, but something tells me you’d much rather be tinkering with your PDA than doing this.”

Annoyed by Jazz’s accurate observation, Tucker, who was lying down on his bed, set the book he was reading down on his lap. “I’m just saying, a quick Internet search would give us many more results in a matter of seconds. If you’re worried about wasting time, then I think spending hours scanning for even the smallest piece of witch-related trivia is ten times more time-consuming.”

But Jazz wasn’t going to relent any time soon. “We already tried things your way, Tucker. Remind me again how much useful information we found online?” When her question was met by silence, she smirked, focusing again on the book she had open on the floor in front of her. “Thought so.”

“Okay, so the first few results were all about conspiratorial nutcases claiming the witches are actually aliens from a faraway galaxy and that what we call ‘magic’ is really superior technology our tiny, human minds can’t understand,” he paused to breathe, “but those were just the first few articles! I’m sure if we keep on looking, we’ll find something useful.”

“Do I really have to remind you that the most useful thing we found was a Satanist group’s website? I don’t know about you, but I’m not exactly looking forward to joining them anytime soon.”

Leaning back against his bed’s headboard, the techno geek crossed his arms, feeling defensive. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Will you two just stop?” Danny finally had enough. He slammed the book he’d been reading shut before setting it down on his desk, where his own pile of books lay. Leaning back on his chair, one leg over his knee, he crossed his arms as he sent a stern look at his sister and best friend; the kind of look a father would give when scolding his misbehaving children. 

Even though they had legitimate reasons to be cranky at each other, a selfish part of him thought the only one who could really act out of line was him. Tucker and Jazz tended to forget what really was on the line. True; if they didn’t find a solution to the random ghost portals soon, that could lead to severe repercussions on both dimensions, and dealing with Lady Arcana was both dangerous and nerve-racking in every sense of the word. 

But the real danger came from within. 

Although Danny had tried to limit their use as much as possible, the Witch Queen’s presence demanded he wore the Ring of Wrath and the Crown of Fire in hopes of forcing the sorceress to think twice before double-crossing them. But the mere use of the two mystical items was far more terrifying than anything the entire witch clan could have thrown at him. 

There was something inherently...evil encased in the ring and crown. Danny was sure of it. Damn, he could feel it with every fiber of his being. Even before donning the all-powerful objects for the first time during his coronation, the moment he held them after stripping them off of Pariah Dark’s form, they were already calling out to him. 

And the most horrifying thing was that he wanted to heed their call. The relics promised infinite power to whoever was in possession of them. When, ironically, the dreaded things took possession of their wearer! After a brief moment of doubt where he almost fell into temptation and gave in, Danny understood wearing the ring and crown meant the total enslavement of his soul. 

Ever since then, he lived in fear of succumbing to temptation and letting their sinister energy consume him. Whenever he had no choice but to wear the Ring of Wrath and the Crown of Fire, Danny found himself fighting an uphill battle against the hypnotising pull of power emanating from them. It was more tempting than using his powers to get back at Dash for all the wedgies. It was more inviting than dating Valerie, regardless of the very real possibility of dying by her hand. It was more dangerous than accepting to work with Vlad, who foolishly coveted the very same torture he endured every time he put those two horrid artefacts on. 

Because it was a literal deal with the devil; power in exchange of his soul. 

And to think he had to endure all that every time he met up with the queen of the two-faced creatures responsible for such evil in the first place, just to convince her against doing anything foolish...It was irony at its finest. 

With gentle spins of his chair, Danny kept looking alternatively at Tucker and Jazz, who were blissfully unaware of his inner musings, as he talked to each of them. First was Tucker. “Tuck, I know you’ve considered books a waste of time ever since we plugged you into the Cramtastic Mark 5 to break Ember’s spell, and I’m sorry for dragging you into this, but Jazz’s brought all these books from the library and we need as much information as possible.”

He then turned to his sister, who was laid facing down on the floor. “Jazz, same thing goes for you. Except the ‘book-hating' part,” he hastily added, “you know as well as I do that if there’s someone who can find anything on the Internet, it's Tucker. Just, give him time.”

His two teammates exchanged glances before giving up with an eye roll. “Whatever,” they said in unison before getting back to reading. 

Danny wasn’t quite finished, though. “There’s also the fact that I’m not even sure we’ll find anything useful in the first place. I mean, what Lady Arcana needs is either an explanation on what’s causing the portals to manifest, or a spell that can counter it. And I highly doubt we’ll find that sort of information in books from the public library.”

“Maybe if they were from Hogwarts…” Tucker snickered at his own joke. When he noticed the twin glare the siblings were sending him, he sobered up. “Sorry.”

Jazz rolled her eyes as she changed her position from lying down to sitting up, cross-legged. “That doesn’t mean we won’t find anything useful, Danny. If anything, just learning more about the witches should be of help when dealing with them, right?”

The halfa sighed. “In theory. But Tucker’s right; we’ve been reading for hours and we haven’t found anything useful, or even that we didn’t already know of.”

“Thank you!” Tucker deadpanned as he clapped his hands sarcastically.

Danny ignored him in favour of continuing. “I mean, what’s to learn about them? Their background is completely irrelevant to the issue at hand. Knowing of the Salem trials isn’t going to help me prevent disaster from happening!”

“And don’t forget we don’t even know how to tell true facts apart from naysay.”  Tucker pointed out, a finger raised in the air as if that’d give more credibility to his point.

But Jazz insisted. “All the more reason to find out more about them! For instance, Danny, what did you know about witches before meeting this Lady Arcana?”

Her brother gave a noncommittal shrug. “Only what Frostbite told me and what I read in the pages I found from Sojourn’s missing journalーand no, I’m not going to let you read them, Jazz; it’s too dangerous. Besides, I don’t even have them anymore,” he was quick to add, recognising the inquisitive look on his sister’s face all too well.

Annoyed at how well her brother knew her, and at Tucker’s ill-concealed snickers, the aspiring psychologist turned her head away in a huff. “Fine, keep your sister away from fascinating topics. It’s not like I’ve been keeping your secret for years; even from you.” She punctuated with a meaningful look.

If the look on Danny’s face was any indication, they’d had that same conversation too many times before. “Jazz, careful; you know emotionally blackmailing me will get you nowhere. It’ll make me want to keep more things away from you.”

The redhead stood up and got closer to him. With her arms crossed, she used her brother’s seated position to tower over him for once, since she had long lost the ability to look over his shoulder once Danny finally hit his growth spurt. “And you know trying to play hero and keep me away is going to solve nothing. If anything, it’s only going to make me want to help you even more.”

Watching the siblings from the comfortable distance his bed provided him, Tucker knew things would only get nasty if he let the tension escalate from there. He let out a wolf whistle, effectively capturing the Fenton kids' attention. “Wow. You know you two spend too much time together when you start using the other’s methods to get what you want.”

Danny and Jazz furrowed their brow in confusion. “What do you mean?” They asked in unison. 

Changing his position so his back was resting against his wall rather than his bed, which also allowed him to easily look them both in the eye, their friend just shrugged nonchalantly. He wasn’t going to say anything else; their attention was no longer directed at each other and that was enough. “Nothing. Hey, how about a break?”

“A break?” Danny echoed, incredulous. “Didn’t we just argue about wasting time? Tuck, we can’t take a break now!”

Seeing where Tucker was getting at, and that he had a very good point, Jazz sighed. Turning to Danny, she put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. “Tucker is right. We’ve been at it for a few hours now. We’d better take a breather and continue later, when our minds are sharper.”

Danny was about to protest when he noticed their matching expressions. They were both tired after doing nothing but searching for clues for hours and bickering with each other. If anyone deserved a break, it was them. And as his own exhaustion finally kicked in, he realised, so did he. 

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s stop for a while.”

Satisfied, Jazz gave her little brother some space as she flopped down on his bed. “So, Tuck.” When his head snapped at the sound of her voice calling his name, she continued. “How’s your latest lady friend doing?”

It took the African American young man a moment to understand who she was talking about. “You mean Camille?”

“If that’s her name, then yes.”

“Oh, we don’t hang out anymore.”

“What?” Jazz gasped. “Why?”

Tucker looked at her uneasily. Danny, on his part, remained quiet, just listening to their conversation. “Uh, no offence, Jazz but...I don’t feel comfortable talking about this with my best friend’s sister; close as we may be.”

That made her frown. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s just...there’s things you don’t talk about with just anyone. And what happens between you and the people you choose to fool around with is one of them. I mean, how would you feel if my mum tried meddling into your love life?”

She just made a derisive sound at the back of her throat. “Excuse me? That is completely different!”

“It is not!”

“Oh, really?” Jazz put her hands on her hips, an eyebrow raised. “Please. Tucker, I’m Danny’s older sister, not our mother! Moreso, I’m the eldest by two years,” she put two fingers up to stress her point, “it’s not like I babysat you or cleaned your diapers. It can’t be that embarrassing!”

Refusing to say any more, Tucker just fell backwards on his bed, arms crossed. From his chair, Danny could only roll his eyes good-naturedly at their banter. 

After a beat of silence, Jazz tried again. “Was it your issues with commitment? Did she want more but you got scared?”

Exasperated, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Then, he turned to his best friend. “You can intervene whenever you like, you know?”

Danny just leaned back on his chair, his arms folded behind his head and an easy grin on his face. “Nah, I’m good.”

Abruptly getting up from his bed, unamused, Tucker walked over to his desk and turned his computer on. His back turned to the Fenton siblings, he started fidgeting with a program he’d just opened. He had no idea what to do with it, but he figured it’d be better than Jazz butting in on his love life. 

“So...is that it?” she ventured hopefully. 

Groaning loudly, he rubbed his eyes before fully facing the current thorn in his side. “Has it ever crossed your mind that the reason why I don’t feel comfortable talking about this with you is because you’re going to try and psychoanalyse me?” Seeing as there was no reply, Tucker took it as a sign that she’d finally let it go, so he turned to face the screen. 

...only to hear her whisper to Danny. “How much on them having trouble in bed?”

His face burning hot in embarrassment, Tucker slammed his head against the desk, startling the two other people in the room. At least Danny would never betray him, would he? No, he wouldn’t. It totally went against, like, fifty rules in the Bro Code. 

Unfortunately, Danny was having far too much fun seeing Tucker squirm under Jazz’s scrutinising, psychological curiosity. “Well, from what I’ve heard…”

Oh, no! No way in Hell was that traitor selling him out like that! If Danny wanted war, he’d give him war, Bro Code be damned! Getting up with startling speed, Tucker yelled loud enough to drown Danny’s voice out. “Danny’s met a girl!”

Both siblings blinked slowly at him before simultaneously screeching, “What!?” Although it was impossible to tell which of the two was more bewildered by the revelation.

In an instant, Jazz was on her brother like a vulpture on an animal carcass. “Danny, is that true? You have a girlfriend?” Suddenly, she looked much more offended than dumbfounded. “And you didn’t tell me?!”

“No!” he quickly denied, before all but flying from his chair and going over to his so-called best friend to smack him on the arm. Hard. “Tucker, what the fuck?!”

“Language!” Jazz admonished. 

“Where did you get the idea that I got a girlfriend? What, you’ve listened to me talking about how I fear for my life whenever I’m in the same room as the short-tempered, curse-inducing, infuriating Queen of the Witches of Amity Park and you obviously thought, Oh, man. That’s true love right there and then?!”

“Well, that definitely didn’t stop you from crushing on Valerie back in high school…” Jazz pointed out meekly. 

Seeing Danny’s eyes glow green for a fraction of a second was enough to make Tucker sweat bullets. “Jazz, you’re not helping!” He squeaked. “And, dude, you’re freaking me out a little with the way you’re burning holes in my skull. At this point, I really wouldn’t put it past you to have suddenly developed heat-vision or something…”

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Danny finally got out of his best friend’s personal space. He was still pissed, though. “Talk.”

Straightening his clothes, Tucker rolled his eyes. “My, aren’t you sensitive today.”

“Well, duh! You just said I have a girlfriend! Could you be so kind as to tell me who so I don’t forget our anniversary or, I don’t know, her face!?”

The techno geek made a ‘pfft’ sound with his mouth, shrugging the notion off with a motion of his hand. “I never said you had a girlfriend. My exact words were ‘Danny’s met a girl.’ If you two are too obsessed with your love life to pay close attention to what other people say, that’s not my problem.”

“Okay, so who’s this girl?” Jazz asked, still curious.

“Yes, please, enlighten us, oh, King Tuck.” Danny quipped sarcastically. 

Tucker frowned, not appreciating the quip at his past mistake, but he spoke nonetheless. “Dude, it 's Sam.”

There was a beat of silence where brother and sister just stared at him before Danny whispered, shell-shocked, “Sam?”

Jazz, on her part, was both shocked and confused. “Wait, who’s Sam?”

He would’ve smacked him right then and there if it weren’t for his best friend having ghost powers he could blast him with. “Well, duh! Dude, have you or have you not met a girl named Sam recently? Because, I’m warning you, if you thought she was a guy, I’m telling on you. I don’t care if she beats your ass; you’d deserve it.”

“Ooh! A girl capable of kicking my baby brother's butt? Now I gotta know who she is! Also, Tucker, language.” The aqua-eyed girl half-heartedly scolded him, before her expression turned into a pensive one as she redirected her gaze to Danny “...are you sure you don’t have a type, though?”

“Sam and Valerie are nothing alike!” Danny exclaimed, throwing his arms up at his sides. Then he turned to Tucker, his hands now curled into fists out of sheer annoyance. “And of course I know she’s a girl. I just don’t understand how on Earth you’d come to the conclusion that I’m into her or something.”

Not for the first time, Tucker rolled his eyes before getting up from his chair and draping his arm around Danny’s shoulders. “And, again, I never said you were. I just said you��d met a girl…” Danny didn’t like that mischievous glint in his eyes one bit. “It just so happens I know you two enough to know you’d immediately assume I was talking about a lady friend, which would then make you forget all about moi.” Tucker explained with a cheeky grin. “And, lo and behold, it worked!”

Danny narrowed his eyes on him. He hated it when Tucker used their everlasting friendship to play him like a violin. Jazz, on the other hand, hated having her queries ignored. Taking a deep breath, she raised her voice to deafening levels. “Hello? Can anyone tell me who this ‘Sam’ is?”

“Agh!” Both halfa and techno geek exclaimed, taken aback. Nursing his ear, the youngest Fenton glared at his sister. “You're louder than my Ghostly Wail, you know that?”

“I can attest to that.” Tucker muttered, equally annoyed. 

Both sighed in defeat when Jazz limited herself to arching an eyebrow at them with her hands, curled into fists at her sides, stubborn as ever to get her answers. “Jazz, it’s no big deal. Sam is just a friend of Tucker’s who knows an awful lot about the occult and such. He thinks she might be able to help me with you-know-who.” He explained as he sat down on his bed next to her, Tucker following suit.

“Wait, Tucker is friends with a girl that’s not me?”

The aforementioned boy took offence at that. “Is it really that weird to see me hanging out with a girl because we’re friends and nothing more?”

The Fenton kids just stared at him blankly. “Dude, you literally hit on anything with a skirt. Remember the drag queen?”

The techno geek spluttered at that, while Jazz couldn’t help but chortle. “Dude, you promised to never bring that up again!”

Danny only chuckled at his best friend’s flushed face. “I don’t think you’re in any position to complain, Tuck. After all, you did break that poor queen’s heart...”

“Why, you!” Face burning hot in embarrassment, Tucker threw himself at Danny, ready to strangle him, ability to blast him to smithereens be damned! His own body reacting instinctively, Danny lay down on his back as he grabbed his best friend’s wrists. The two would’ve started roughhousing hadn’t it been for Jazz getting caught in between. 

“Hey! Stop it you two!” With a superhuman strength that could only be attributed to an older sibling separating her little brothers, Jazz shoved Tucker off of Danny, while she kept the latter down with a hand on his chest. A few minutes passed before the two calmed down. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she turned to Tucker, trying to keep the original conversation going. “So this Sam could be of help?”

Willing his own breath to steady, Tucker nodded. “Yeah. Sam’s a Goth, so she’s very interested in all that. In fact, she’s been of help before.”

Danny’s interest perked at that. “What do you mean?”

“Remember when I’d come up with a solution to defeat certain ghosts this past year? Like Medusa, or that giant Hydra, and such? That was all Sam!”

“Now that you mention it, it did take me by surprise that you’d suddenly know what a hydra even is…”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence…” he quipped, before shaking his head to keep himself focused. “Anyway, whenever those ghosts appeared, I’d remember Sam talking about her latest mythology-related acquisition she bought from her favourite bookstore. So I just called her up, used the very convenient ghost in case to ask about its weakness and, ta-da! You’d have your way to beat them!” He exclaimed, proudly puffing up his chest. After a moment, he deflated, another thought in his mind. “The only creature she never told me about are unicorns, though. I don’t know why.”

“Maybe it throws off her entire dark, cynical persona.” Jazz guessed. Becoming Goth was a common coping mechanism for when people lost someone dear. For all she knew, this Sam could’ve lost a loved one and abandoned all things traditionally cute and girly as a way to put up a strong, undaunted façade, constantly exposing herself to the darker side of life in an attempt to grow desensitised to such things. 

“Maybe,” the bespectacled young man shrugged, “but if you ever meet her, don’t go around saying things like that. Somehow, I doubt she’d appreciate having her entire identity picked out and analysed.”

As Tucker and Jazz kept on bantering with each other, Danny’s thoughts were elsewhere. If what Tucker was saying was true and Sam had indeed marked the difference between victory and defeat during those ghost attacks, then it really would be better to have her by his side. 

Despite his years fighting ghosts and what he’d learned from Frostbite, his knowledge was limited to the Ghost Zone, which was why the presence of mythological or legendary ghosts tended to demand more of him than, say, facing off against Technus, or Johnny 13. Magical artefacts and abilities fell under that category, as well.

Aside from the lack of portal-creating and visits to the Ghost Zone, the witches, on the contrary, seemed to be knowledgeable of ghosts. And that put him at a clear disadvantage he couldn’t afford. But if Sam also happened to know about witches, maybe even partake in rituals for the sake of it, then having her near would be for the best. He would only have to make sure to keep a close eye on her in case the witches found out and went after her in retaliation. 

And also, deep down, he was sort of looking forward to meeting her again. 

...............

The seemingly never ending corridors were doing nothing to alleviate her already suffering nerves. Despite the velvet-carpeted floor that would other times muffle her heavy steps, she now felt as if every step she took resonated throughout the manor like the screeching tiles of a wooden floor. From the rich, maroon walls were hanging the portraits of every astounding witch their clan had ever witnessed; from queens and Council members, to especially adept sorceresses or even heroines who had saved their sisters one way or another. All those women she usually looked up to for guidance in difficult times now seemed to be silently judging her with their cold, unforgiving eyes. 

She walked in complete silence, afraid to disturb the peace if she were to utter a word. After discovering the grimoire she used to travel to the Ghost Zone wouldn’t be of any help in her mission, Sam was blindly following the beginning of a hunch; the spark of an idea whose outcome she still knew nothing of. But, even if she wasn’t sure what she was looking for, it was all she had. 

Sam had no choice but to follow that inkling. 

Hurriedly trying to keep up with her, Star and Paulina were close behind. Once again, their position within their Queen’s inner circle allowed them to understand Sam’s thought process better than most. Only they knew the true reason behind the Queen’s unprompted visit to their clan’s archives. 

“Your Majesty, what do you expect to find inside thー?” Before Star could so much as finish her question, Sam interrupted her.

“Indeed, Star. I would appreciate a warm bubble bath with deadly nightshade leaves.” The queen said, not even stopping to look back at her ladies-in-waiting.

To any other person, that cryptic message would have meant nothing but the typical request one would expect a queen to ask her personal maids of. But Paulina and Star knew better. Asking for deadly nightshade was Sam’s way of telling them to keep whatever she was up to a secret. By asking Star for a deadly nightshade bubble bath, she was instructing them that absolutely no one should find out about the true reason behind her visit to the archives. 

Exchanging knowing glances with Paulina, the blonde lowered her head slightly, fully aware that her Queen was watching her from the corner of her eye. “Yes, your Majesty.”

And with that everything that had to be said was shared between them. 

Time was of the essence.

Aside from the evident danger she faced every time she travelled to the Infinite Realms, there was the added possibility of being spotted by humans, regardless of how far away from civilization their meeting spot was. If anyone ever took notice of the three mysterious figures fraternising with ghosts, Amity Park’s greatest known threat, questions would soon arise. 

And whenever humans had questions, they turned to the so-called experts on the matter for help. While Sam wasn’t sure those incompetent Guys In White even suspected their existence, she still wouldn’t put it past them to investigate for the sake of burning tax money in some new toys. Those greedy, government puppets… Worst of all, if they took a genuine interest in her kind, they might as well be done for, and not necessarily because the GIW were good at their job…

If word got out that witches were real and living among them, the citizens could get scared. And whenever humans got scared, especially if it was of things they couldn’t quite explain or understand, that fear turned into aggression. If they kept wasting any more time, one day she’d open her door to find herself face to face with an angry mob. 

And to think it’d all be because of a group of incompentent ghost hunters who couldn’t even drive away the very same treacherous creatures responsible for her people’s need for secrecy in the first place...it was irony at its finest. 

However, despite the spike of anxiety in her chest, Sam couldn’t help but go back to her last visit to the Ghost Zone. Phantom’s attempts at dissipating the tension had been, as much as she hated to admit it, a welcomed thing. And yet, it was a little unnerving to learn the Ghost King shared her views on formality and the power of intimacy, because it made him look more human than she would ever be comfortable with. 

In all fairness, it was difficult to imagine Phantom talking like anything but his usual, cocky self in the first place. From what little exchanges the news broadcasts had been able to catch on camera during the years, the white-haired spirit tended to get overly familiar with his opponents, getting under their skin with puns or witty comebacks thrown at their expense. Still, as unusual as it was, Sam couldn’t help but feel that, perhaps, it would’ve been better to keep on using their respective honorifics. Because Phantom addressing her like he would any other misbehaving ghost, like she’d seen him do dozens of times over the years, somehow made it all the more...real. She truly was talking to the infamous Ghost King on her own volition. 

That thought alone scared her more than she’d ever be willing to admit. 

Before Sam could dwell on the matter any longer, a grating, shrill voice snapped her out of her thoughts. A voice she knew all too well and would do just about anything to never hear again unless it was absolutely necessary. 

“Sammy-kins!”

Stopping in her tracks, eye twitching in annoyance, the lavender-eyed girl forced a smile to materialise on her face as she slowly turned around to face the mother of all monsters. Her own. “Hello, Mother.” She forced out.

Pamela Manson was an average witch; the only thing stellar about her was her ability to distract humans with her lavish parties and over-the-top socialite persona. A woman obsessed with social status and appearances, Sam’s mother constantly got on her case due to her own disregard for the very things Pamela lived for. 

Mother and daughter were opposites in almost every aspect. 

Whereas Sam prided herself in her individuality and ability to go unnoticed unless she truly wished to make her presence known, Pamela was obsessed with blending in a way that would always draw all eyes to her.

Sam believed in standing up for a change, without fear of taking big steps as long as they led her to a better world. Pamela considered things to be fine as they were, and that the only changes that should be implemented were small, insignificant ones; such as her daughter’s fashion sense.

While Sam was a rather cynical individual who still cared about everyone deep down, her mother was preppy and optimistic, but her aspirations were limited to what could benefit her and her family.

But what truly set them apart was Sam’s insistence on being inconspicuous to the human eye; her coven’s anonymity her top priority. As opposed to Pamela who, had she been queen, would’ve accidentally exposed their secrets in her first week after being crowned; tops. 

In all fairness, it wasn’t that Pamela didn’t care for their clan; it was just that she couldn’t resist flaunting what, she believed, made her better than everyone else. 

And, right now, she believed her daughter’s manners could be much better. “What’s with the cold greeting, Sammy-kins? We haven’t seen much of each other in over a week and that’s how you treat me?”

On second thought, Sam much preferred her chances against an angry mob over spending five minutes in the same room as her mother. “Sorry, Mother, but you caught me in the middle of something important and…”

“What could possibly be more important than what I’m about to tell you?” Pamela questioned, her hands on her hips. 

“Perhaps finding a way to save two dimensions or, at the very least, our people, but you’re right, Mum, what was it that you wanted to tell me?”, was what the raven-haired witch wished she could’ve said, but instead she opted for, “And what is it that you have to tell me?”

Instead of answering her daughter, however, Pamela directed an expectant look at her two ladies-in-waiting who, upon noticing her steely glare on them, immediately straightened up before lowering their heads in submission. “Greetings, your Ladyship.” Paulina and Star droned, their heads low.

Although Pamela was never queen herself, as mother of the current leader of the clan she was to be regarded with respect. A fact the woman would constantly revel in and fully take advantage of. Smiling in contentment, she sighed. “Ah, much better. Now, Sammy-kins, I was thinking we could take some time away from your schedule to have a little chat on your wardrobe choices?”

Ugh, not that again. Ignoring her mother’s offended gasp, Sam turned on her heel to make her way, once again, to her original destination. Star and Paulina hurrying up to leave ‘her Ladyship’ behind and keep up with their queen after flashing her mother a pair of matching sheepish smiles

Unfortunately, the one thing Sam seemed to have inherited from her mother was her stubbornness. Quickening her own pace, the clicking of her high heels behind her haunting Sam even in her dreams, Pamela caught up with them in a surprisingly short amount of time. Having no choice but to breathlessly talk to her daughter at the same time as she tried keeping up with her would not be enough to get her to give up on her pursuit. 

“Seeing as we have much more important matters to discuss, I shall gracefully ignore your previous insolence.” Luckily for Sam, her mother missed the way she rolled her eyes at her. “I know this...Gore style of yoursー.”

“It’s ‘Goth’, Mother…” Sam corrected her, but her efforts fell on deaf ears. 

“ーis just your way of rebelling against the world because things don’t go your way, but don’t you think enough is enough? You’ve been dressing like a mortician since you were twelve!”

“If you’re done patronising me and the way I choose to present myself to the worldーwhich, not only have you insulted in every possible way but, allow me to remind you, is not just a phaseー, I really do have more important matters to attend to.” 

And with that, she sped up past her mother. It should’ve been the end of that conversation, but Pamela always had to have the last word. “But what about the clan? Don’t you think it’s selfish to compromise us like that?”

That stopped the Witch Queen dead in her tracks, the unexpected stop causing Paulina and Star to tumble back a few steps. Once they registered what Pamela had said, their blood ran cold; the stiffness in Sam’s posture only confirmed their unspoken fears:

Sam’s mother had just crossed a line. 

Fists clenched so tightly at her sides she could’ve drawn blood, her teeth gritting in aggravation, Sam hissed, not even turning around to face her mother. “What did you just say?”

Brushing her daughter’s anger off as just another tantrum, Pamela calmly walked over to where she stood, looking over her handmaidens’ shoulders. Resting a palm on Sam’s shoulder, a hand that, although meant as comforting, came out as condescending, mocking; the older witch spoke up. “I’m just saying, you’re always advocating for our anonymity, yet you seem to ignore that people will immediately associate your obvious, stereotypically witchy outfits with real-life witchcraft. All that black and those dark colours, the ripped fabric, the metal ornaments… Sammy, don’t you see? That’s like wearing a sign saying ‘I’m a witch! Come and lynch me!’”

Taking advantage of her turned face, Sam narrowed her eyes on her mother. She dressed like a WASP housewife from the 50’s when she was a Jewish woman living in the 21st centuryーshe was in absolutely no position to criticise her looks! 

How dare she? How dare she?! Using her duty to protect her people against her just to get her to wear some frilly abomination because she couldn’t fathom the idea that her daughter would want to be her own person?

It was moments like these that Sam missed Grandma Ida the most. Her grandma would’ve guided her in her darkest hours, giving her useful advice to approach the situation, but never making decisions for her, letting her live and learn instead! Grandma Ida would’ve never tried to use her to push some personal agenda on the clan. 

But Grandma Ida was gone, and Pamela was there to stay.

As insulted and, although she’d never let it show, hurt as Sam was, going to the archives took priority. Stowing her conversation with her mother for another time as she resumed her march down the hallsーpreferably when she’d be alone in her roomーSam shrugged her off the best way she knew; through biting sarcasm. “Oh, please. If I were nearly as ‘obvious’ or ‘stereotypically witchy’ as you say, Mother, I’d decorate this place after the Sedlec Ossuary.”

Pamela furrowed her brow in confusion as she, too, resumed her walk. “What does that even mean?” 

“She’s talking about a Czech chapel fully decorated with bones and skulls.” Star helpfully supplied. 

Paulina, on the contrary, shuddered in disgust. “Ugh, I’d rather not. I’d feel like I’m always being watched…”

Star tilted her head to the side. “How? Skulls don’t have eyes.”

Ignoring the handmaidens, Pamela opened up her mouth to speak when a raised hand from her daughter, who had abruptly halted, stopped her from even getting a word in. “As lovely as catching up with you has been, Mother,” Sam started, voice laced with sarcasm, “I’m afraid I must go. I have important matters to attend to, as I already told you, that I must take care of, in private.” She stressed before turning the doorknob of the large door before her and walking inside, swiftly letting her bewildered mother out after she all but slammed the door shut in her face. 

Leaning  her back against the door, Sam let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. No matter how much time passed, her mother would always be a she-demon worse than any ghost. God forbid Phantom ever met her; if he were to take a page out of her book, Sam would personally burn herself at the stake.

“Is Pamela too much for you?” A sultry voice coaxed her out of her thoughts.

Opening up her eyes, Sam could feel the relieved smile forming on her face at the sight of the witch she most wanted to see at the moment. “Delilah.” She breathed out as she separated herself from the door, walking over to her friend to grab her hands in hers. “You have no idea.” Sighing dramatically, she let her head fall on the crook of the shapeshifter’s shoulder, eliciting a chuckle from her. 

“Oh, I don’t need to.” She said, gently patting her queen’s head. “Just by looking at you I can tell; you look like you’ve suddenly lost ten years of your life!”

“Make that twenty,” Sam grumbled. 

Separating herself from her leader, their hands still holding each other, the turquoise-eyed sorceress got to the point. “Well, what brings you here? As much as I love your visits, I thought you’d be busy with your little escapes to the Ghost Zone?”

Sam averted her gaze, the wooden floor suddenly much more interesting than a few seconds ago. “It’s precisely because of that that I’m here.”

“Oh?” Delilah tilted her head, slightly. “Okay...So, what are you here for, then?”

To her bewilderment, her queen’s eyes continuously darted from one place to another, as if expecting to be ambushed any minute now. “Are we alone?”

An odd question, but not necessarily a bad one. Putting her fingers on her chin in thought, the Council member tried to remember if she’d seen anyone that day. “Hm, I think Stephanie might be somewhere around here, engrossed in a book. But you know her, it’d be easier to get me to leave the archives than not seeing that girl with her nose deep in a book.”

Stephanie was probably with them. That was not a bad thing. Stephanie ought to find out sooner or later. Wringing her hands nervously, Sam willed her eyes to look at Delilah’s own curious turquoise ones. “I need your help with something.”

That caught her attention. “My help?” Sam nodded. “My, Sam, you’re starting to worry me.” Delilah admitted as she got closer to the Goth, her hand hovering over her shoulder but never close enough to actually rest atop of it, afraid that the sudden contact would startle her. It was unusual to see her so suspicious of everything around her. Maybe… “Did the ghosts do anything? Are we going to war?”

That seemed to snap the younger witch out of whatever she was going through. She didn’t lower her guard, though. “No, no. We’re not going to war.” She shook her head as she let Delilah gently guide her to another section of the archives. “But in order to avoid just that I might need to do something crazy…”

Delilah wrinkled her nose at that. “Something crazy? You’re not going to marry that Ghost Punk, are you?”

Startled, Sam jerked away from her touch, shuddering in discomfort. Where would she get such a ridiculous idea? She and Danny Phantom? She almost wanted to laugh. Instead, she let out a derisive sound from the back of her throat. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“So, what is it then? I’m sorry, Sam, but you’re not making any sense right now.” The shapeshifter insisted. “If we’re not going to war, and you’re not going to marry the Ghost King, what do you need me for?” Taking a few steps, she got closer to the young monarch, their faces mere inches apart as she tried looking for answers in her amethyst orbs. “What could be so serious that you’re so unnerved, Sam?”

Delilah’s intense gaze made her squirm, but she had a point. She couldn’t expect her to help her, no questions asked. For instance, she wasn’t just the best shapeshifter of the clan, she was also a Council member, and the archives guardian. She was the one tasked with keeping their people’s most precious treasure, their history and knowledge, safe. And considering what she was gonna ask of her, Delilah was in her right to know exactly what was going through her head. 

Steeling herself for what was to come, Sam straightened her spine, returning the intensity of the older witch’s gaze in earnest. “I need you to grant me access to a certain type of book.”

Delilah’s posture relaxed. “Is that it? Why didn’t you say so sooner? Sure, just tell me what you’re looking for and I’ll let you take a lookー.”

“I mean,” Sam cut her off, “I need you to grant me permission to take the book with me, outside of the manor...and into the Ghost Zone.” Her voice wavered when she muttered the last part. 

“Oh...I see...” The guardian’s expression immediately sobered up. She cleared her throat, awkwardly. “And, what type of book are you looking for?”

Now things were going to get really ugly. “I need a spellbook detailing everything we know about the Ghost Zone, specifically, its portals.”

For a while, Delilah just stared at her, almost unblinkingly. The good news was she didn’t appear angry or outraged as Sam had predicted, the bad news, however, was that her empty, unreadable expression was much worse. At least she’d have known what she was thinking had she been yelling at her for her idiocy; questioning her mental health. But as it was, Sam was almost as lost as her.

After what felt like an eternity, Delilah finally found her voice. “So you…” she quieted down, trying to find the words. “You want to take one of our most sacred texts to the Ghost Zone?”

Sam winced. Somehow, it sounded way worse when she said it like that. “I know it’s asking for too much…”

“Saying that’s an understatement wouldn’t even begin to cover it.” The Council member scoffed. “Seriously, Margaret would have a cow! And don’t get me started on Wilhelmina…”

“I know!” Sam was quick to reassure her. She was perfectly aware what she was asking of her might be a little excessive, but she wasn’t completely delusional! She knew just what kind of reaction their fellow Council members would have... “I know, but...the only way to ensure our people’s safety is helping Phantom. And he needs help closing numerous unstable portals that are suddenly opening. I thought the book I’d been using to get to the Infinite Realms would have the answers, but its contents were thoroughly underwhelming.”

Just like she did in Phantom’s lair, Sam got the spellbook out of her skirt before handing it to the guardian. In turn, she inspected its pages, concluding that, indeed, the book hadn’t much to offer. “Please, Delilah, you know I would never ask this of you if I didn’t think it’s our only hope.”

Sam wasn’t one to plead. The young Council member knew this better than anyone. She was headstrong and determined; the entire clan knew there wasn’t much that could be done to dissuade her once her mind was made up. Margaret herself found it to be both a blessing and a curse, while Wilhelmina thought it was a curse. Period. And Delilah...

Delilah prayed to all things above her that she wasn’t about to make a mistake. Sighing in defeat, she flashed Sam a small grin, earning herself a triumphant smile in return. Rolling her eyes good-naturedly, she motioned for her queen to follow her with a slight jerk of her index finger. “Come with me, your Majesty. I know just the thing.”

Sighing in relief, Sam allowed her eyes to wander around the manor’s archives. She really couldn’t blame Stephanie for loving the place to the point of practically making it her second homeーthe sight was breathtaking. 

The circular room, surrounded by large panel windows, located right below the Council Room, which put it in the three-story manor’s second story, was one of the best examples of a Pocket Dimension Spell put to good use. Countless shelves filled to the brim with colourful, leather-bound books went on as far as reached the eye; hanging proudly from the ceiling, the arrow-shaped banners with her clan’s signature colour and emblemーa black rose over a royal purple backgroundーadorned the room; leaning against the shelves, golden ladders could be seen moving on their own accord; which was almost as impressive as the floating books that flew from one place to another by flapping their two covers like an eagle would flap its wings. 

Walking through the numerous aisles, letting herself be, one again, amazed by the sight, Sam caught a familiar figure from the corner of her eye. Turning her head to the source, she found Stephanie Baker, sitting cross-legged on the floor with her back against a shelf’s lateral plank, an incredibly dense book perched on her lap. 

Sensing someone’s eyes on her, no doubt, Stephanie lifted her head up and away from her book, before a grin was plastered on her face at the sight of her queen. Her enthusiastic wave was answered by Sam’s much more subdued one, alongside a small chuckle. “She’ll never change; she’s at her happiest when surrounded by books,” Sam mused to herself. 

She and Delilah kept walking in silence, but with each step she took, the Goth couldn’t help but furrow her brow, anxiously. They were getting further and further away from the archives’ hot spot, the zone with the most activity disappearing in the distance until she almost couldn’t make it out anymore. Just where was she taking her?

Her question was answered when her guide halted abruptly in front of the wall. An empty space that, unlike the other walls encasing the archives, wasn’t even decorated by a portrait of one of the previous guardians. Not sure what to expect, Sam tilted her head to the side, speechless. “Uh...Delilah?”

But Delilah didn’t answer. Instead, she turned her back on her and extended her hands, palms open, in front of her. “Clavis mysteria!”, she chanted, her carefully coiffed onyx braid dancing around her, as if swayed by a sudden strong breeze. From her palms emanated a green fog that, as Sam could only look on in awe, speechless for an entirely different reason; seemed to open the wall in half, the resulting, uneven, wooden dents making way for it. 

An eternity or a few minutes could’ve passed, and Sam would be willing to believe anything she was told, when the green fog manifested again, carrying a rather large object with it. When the Witch Queen realised what it was, she could only gasp in astonishment.

Levitating before them was a royal blue, leather-bound book. Intricate designs were scattered throughout its back cover, engraved in gold. Two such designs, a pair of golden, twin swirls, flanked an equally golden fleur de lis on its spine. But the most amazing thing, what truly showed the book’s importance, were the golden letters, glinting under the light, on its cover: 

Arcana’s Grimoire

Mouth hanging open, the young witch could only gape at her friend, completely blown away by the revelation, as the grimoire landed safely on her hands. With a small chuckle, Delilah pushed some loose, black locks obscuring the right side of her face aside. “Sorry. No matter how tightly I tie my braid, spellcasting always messes my hair up.”

Her throat suddenly very dry, Sam swallowed before managing to speak, a finger pointing at the manuscript. “Is...is that…?”

With a knowing smile, Delilah nodded. “Arcana's Grimoire. If you want to find answers on what’s causing those ghost portals to open at random, this baby is your best bet.” Stretching her arms towards the queen, she handed the book to her, who held it with as much care as one held a newborn for the first time, almost reverently. “The grimoire holds the answers to all those questions time made sure to erase.”

“I-I…you...t-the book...” Sam stuttered, not sure what to say. “A-are you sure you want to entrust the g-grimoire, Arcana’s Grimoire, to me?”

“It’s risky, I know. But you said it yourself, you wouldn’t ask me to grant you permission to take a spellbook out of the manor if you weren’t convinced it’s our only hope.” Those few loose strands falling on her face, a stark contrast to her dark mane, she lay a comforting hand on Sam’s shoulder, a soft smile on her face. “And I wouldn’t hand the grimoire to you if I didn’t think it’d be safe with you.”

Eyes widening at the Council member’s words, Sam couldn’t do anything but send her a grateful smile in return. Clutching the grimoire close to her chest, she promised, “I’ll guard it with my life.”

Internally, she made another promise, only this time, it was much more violent than solemn. “And I swear, if Phantom so much as looks at it wrong, I’ll ask Danny to lend me some of his parents’ weapons and hunt him down myself.”

................

“You’re lucky this place sells some of the best pastrami sandwiches I’ve ever had, dude. Otherwise, you’d be on your own.” Tucker said in between bites of his heavenly pastrami with honey mustard sandwich. Wiping some sauce from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve, earning himself disgusted looks from the two other people present, he wagged a finger at his best friend. “Seriously, though. Who would’ve thought Sam would have good taste in restaurants?”

He winced when the Goth in question elbowed him on his side. “I have excellent taste in food in general, thank you very much. It’s not my fault only 9% of the global population can appreciate it.”

Once again, they were meeting up at the You Mocha Me Crazy, which, at this rate, was going to become their new favourite hanging spot. Unless Sam was willing to forego her vegetarian ways and ask for a Double Meaty Nasty Burger with extra bacon with them. Somehow, that seemed unlikely. Luckily, during their first visit Sam had introduced Tucker to their selection of sandwiches and cold cuts, making it easier for the techno geek to warm up to the café. 

After that successful first meeting, the trio decided to hang out whenever Danny needed Sam's help to write his ‘paper.’ All they had to do was ring or text Sam, and she’d tell them when she was free to meet.

Today was one of those days she was free and the guys were in need of her help. The three were lounging around a small coffee table Sam named ‘her spot’, for it was where she usually had her coffee or worked on her assignments in peace. The fact that she was good friends with one of the baristas also helped keep the space free of any ‘spot-stealing-squads,’ as she lovingly referred to ‘those vultures.’

Nursing his aching side, Tucker rolled his eyes. He’d already lost count on how many times they’d had that same conversation. “Is there anyone free from your vegan wrath?”

“For the last time, I’m ultra-recyclo-vegetarian, not vegan.”

“What’s the difference?” Danny intervened, an eyebrow raised in confusion. 

“Vegans tend to waste almost as much food as non-vegetarians. Ultra-recyclo-vegetarians make the most of every single meal.” Sam explained, forking a piece of tomato from her salad. “That’s where the ‘recyclo’ part comes from.”

“I thought that was freegans.” Tucker frowned, still munching his sandwich. 

“I’m surprised you even know what that is.”

“You and me both.” Danny said, turning to look at Tucker with a curious expression on his face. 

Rolling his eyes, the techno geek shrugged them off. “You meet the craziest people on Tinder.” He explained offhandedly. When he took notice of his two companions’ horrified expressions, he almost doubled over in laughter. Clearing his throat, he turned to Sam. “And you still haven’t answered my question.”

Shaking her head to erase the traumatising image that was Tucker’s love life, Sam started. “What? Uh...oh! Right. Ehem! As a matter of fact, there are people excluded from my ‘ultra-recyclo-vegetarian wrath.’” She corrected. “I’d never force people without enough resources to go vegan. Such as the Inuit community. Besides, those guys barely hunt anything compared to rich jerks with questionable hobbies, and they use everything of what little they do hunt.”

“Handy people.” Danny mused, before returning his attention to his laptop, resting on top of his lap, one leg crossed over his other knee. “Now, I don’t mean to be a buzzkill, but we’re here to help me with my...with my homework, remember?”

If Sam thought the way he seemed to overthink his words was weird, she didn’t let it show. “Yeah, you’re right.” She said as she turned her torso around, reaching for her notes inside her spider backpack. “Okay, you two. Lay it on me; what do you want to know?”

Tucker and Danny exchanged a glance, before the blue-eyed boy ventured. “Well...Sam, you’re the expert. What can you tell us of...um...of the witches.”

Scanning through her notepad’s pages, Sam froze at Danny’s words. Could her people’s secret have been discovered already? Before risking compromising her sisters, she had to test the waters first. “Why are you doing your paper on witches in the first place?” Her voice came out a little colder than she intended. 

Tucker furrowed his brow, taken aback by her sudden guarded posture, while Danny just rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Uh...why not? The seminar I signed up for is on mythological creatures and folklore, and witches are one of the most legendary myths ever...right?”

Alright, that made sense. But she couldn’t be reckless, she had to make sure Danny didn’t pose a threat to her coven. “Yeah, they definitely are. I’m sorry, it’s just...with all the ghosts constantly attacking Amity Park, I thought, ‘why witches?’, you know? I mean, your parents are experts! If you just asked them for a little bit of help, your assignment would immediately turn into an easy A, wouldn’t it?”

Taking a gulp from his espresso, Danny carefully thought what to say next. He couldn’t let Sam think he had some sort of ulterior motive for asking about the mystical group of women; he’d promised Lady Arcana her people’s secret would be safe, after all. So he did the only thing he could; he expertly lied. “Well, I don’t really like having things handed to me, you see. What’s the point in signing up for a seminar if I’m just going to get an easy A thanks to my parents, you know what I mean?”

Tucker had to fight the urge to laugh at the irony of the situation. Oh, what Danny wouldn’t have given just to get easy A’s during high school... When his two friends turned to him, Sam looking at him in confusion and Danny quietly begging him to keep his mouth shut, he played it cool by taking a sip from his drink. 

“Anyway,” Danny continued, “I just thought ghosts would be...I dunno...too mainstream? The assignment is supposed to make me do research on mythological creatures, and nowadays it’s pretty obvious ghosts are anything but mythological.”

“Witches aren’t far behind, either…” Sam internally mused, sipping from her macchiato. Holding the carton cup with both hands, she decided sharing some information with Danny and Tucker would be safe. She’d just tell them the basics, debunk some Hollywood myths...the usual. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Danny echoed, hopefully.

“Okay.” Sam repeated with a smile. “Anything in particular you want to know about?”

“Just...anything you can tell us, really.” Tucker said, leaning forward with his hands between his legs. 

“You’re gonna have to be a tad more specific than that, guys.”

Crossing his arms, the Astrophysics student thought long and hard. What was it that he really wanted to know about them? Well, the answer to that was obvious. His only real question was why? Why did they do what they did? If only he could figure that out, then maybe he’d know how to approach Lady Arcana. But there was no way he could ask that without exposing who he was. And it wasn’t like Sam, of all people, would have the answer anyway. 

So instead he asked, “What’s their origin?”

That startled Sam, who almost choked on her lettuce, Tucker quickly coming to her assistance and patting her back. After massaging her throat and swallowing her food, she looked at Danny with an inquisitive eye. “Come again?” She croaked out.

“What’s their origin?” He repeated. “And...and I don’t mean this as in...as in a history lesson. Like, when did witches first appear or anything. If I wanted to know that, I’d just read a book or watch a National Geographic documentary. I-I mean, how is a witch even born?”

“Do I have to explain the birds and the bees to you guys, too?” She asked with a coy smile, having recovered from her coughing fit. Despite the seriousness of his query, the violet-eyed girl couldn’t help but tease him.

Danny flushed in embarrassment. He had to admit, he’d handed her that one. Shaking his head, he chuckled. “I’m good, thanks. You might need to talk to Tuck, though.” He joked, earning himself an offended gasp from his best friend, who punched him lightly on his arm in protest. “But, nah. I guess a better question would be, what makes a witch...well, a witch?”

Sam had to admit, it was a good question. Even if it may risk her people’s secrets, such depth earned the blue-eyed boy some respect from her. Not many people went beyond the basics when looking for information. Most would be content with reading the first few paragraphs of a Wikipedia article. But Danny… Something about the intensity of his ocean blue eyes made Sam feel he was more similar to his parents than he’d originally thought; despite having no interest in ghosts himself. Somehow, he shared their inquisitive and curious mind, albeit from a less scientific approach. Just by that question alone, she immediately understood Danny Fenton was much smarter than people gave him credit for. 

Exhaling, she began to explain. “Believe it or not, the one who got closer to the truth was Harry Potter.”

“You mean the children’s book with the extra creepy white dude?” The bespectacled young man raised an eyebrow, before exchanging disbelieving glances with his best friend beside him. 

She just chuckled. “Yeah. Witches are human women who were born with the innate ability to do magic, setting them apart from the rest.”

“So...this is witches vs muggles that we’re talking about.” Tucker insisted. 

“Yes, Tucker.” Sam said with a bit more bite than she intended. “Point is, being born different tends to alienate people, and considering we’re talking about magical-powers kind of different…”

“The witches were alienated and persecuted by society.” Danny finished for her. 

“Bingo.” The raven-haired girl picked up some photocopies with different articles printed on them and handed a few copies to both of them. “Although nowadays most people bel-know witches aren’t real,” she caught herself before her subconscious could rat her out, “some cryptology experts theorise they just eventually flocked together to keep whatever magical gene they had inside the coven. You know, as a precaution to avoid further persecution.” To this day, she still couldn’t believe a group of nutjobs would be right on the money. The sole idea was ludicrous, and yet…

“So, that’s it?” Tucker asked, looking up from his own set of photocopies, incredulous. “Witches are just humans who, inexplicably, won the superpower lottery?”

The Goth just smiled sheepishly at him. What could she say, anyway? Though witches weren’t against scientific discoveries or careers (Star herself was studying to become a mathematician), magic sort of was their thing; literally. So nobody had ever really delved on why or how they’re different from other humans.

Scratching his chin in thought, Danny tried reconciling what Sam said to his own encounters with the spellcasters. When he thought about it, Lady Arcana and her witches really weren’t any different from any other citizen of Amity Park; the only surprising thing about them was their Queen’s unique eye colourーher being breathtakingly beautiful didn’t matter since her personality needed an awful lot of workーand their characteristic ability to do magic...and maybe their questionable taste in pets. 

But that was it. 

Other than that they were as human as his own family. Even their hatred of ghosts was in synchrony with the town’s general opinion of him. Perhaps if he treated the Witch Queen as any other girl, things would smoothen between them. It made sense that part of her prickly personality was a result of him consciously treating her differently than he would treat others. Deep down, she knew they were unwelcomed, and therefore, built walls around her to avoid getting hurt. 

“Look at you, worrying over making the Witch Queen feel comfortable around you...You’re a lost cause, Fenton.” Danny resisted the urge to roll his eyes at himself, having more important matters to take care of. “Sam,” he called out to her, startling her and Tucker out of their own conversation, “is there a way you could tell us about their spells or something?”

It was a risky question, he knew. But, as useful as learning to deal with the witches was, what they really needed was a way to put an end to the crisis threatening both dimensions. And the only way to do it was by finding a portal-related spell. 

Eyes widening at his question, Sam could feel her stomach churning ominously. That question was a bit too specific for her liking. Depending on how she handled the situation, she could either masterfully take care of it or put her subjects in danger over a potential misunderstanding. “Their spells? What do you mean?”

Danny pretended to look through his own set of copies, trying to appear nonchalant, as if his question were born from mere curiosity, rather than a sense of impending doom. “Nothing, really. I was just curious. I mean, would witches even cast spells, or would they voluntarily just manifest their powers like ghosts do?” As he spoke, his mind raced back to the floating book Lady Arcana had, without any kind of warning, shoved in his face during her last visit. 

The Goth had to resist the urge to spit in disgust at the notion of being compared to those disembodied remains of human consciousness. She took a subtle breath to ease away her repulsion. “It’s hard to say.” She lied. “Since there’s no clear evidence that true, real-life witches ever existed, ーand I’m sure they don’t, obviouslyー.”

“Obviously.” The two men seated with her echoed.

“ーthere’s no definite hypothesis explaining if they truly casted spells or not. For all we know, their famous rites and ceremonies could just be that; ceremonies belonging to pagan religions that were thought to be witchcraft by Christians.” 

“Any chance we might be able to find any spell on the Internet?” Tucker wondered, readily taking his trusty PDA out of his pocket, causing Danny to sigh tiredly upon noticing the device in his hands. While Tucker used his tablet and computer when doing assignments or playing video games, that was solely because the screens were bigger. He’d actually been in a loving, committed relationship with his PDA since he first got it when he was 14. As time went by and technology evolved, instead of adjusting with the times, he put all his engineering knowledge to use with the sole intention of updating his baby and never having to part ways from her. 

It was both kinda cool and a little disturbing, to be honest.

Leaning back on her chair and crossing her legs at her knee, mirroring Danny’s own stance, Sam propped her face on her hand, a bored expression plastered on her face. “Although I do find your commitment to recycling that old thing of yours instead of falling for the capitalistic trap that is technology consumption commendable,” she said, and Danny was sure his eyes must’ve popped open at seeing her utter that long-ass speech without so much as pausing to breathe, “sometimes I worry about you.”

Offended, Tucker frowned at her, only clutching his PDA tighter in his hands. “I’m mercifully going to choose to ignore everything you just said except for the part when you call me ‘commendable.’ Now, can I look for information on the Internet or not?”

Leaning forward, this time resting her chin on her knuckles at the same time as she propped her elbow on her bent knee, Sam shrugged, not really caring. “You can try, but chances are you’re only going to find Halloween articles from children’s magazines, or weird Satanist websites asking you to offer a sacrifice in exchange for joining them.”

As Tucker flopped back down on his chair with his arms crossed, pouting and grumbling something along the lines of, “Damn it, Jazz…”, Danny tried fishing for more information. “So they don’t really cast spells?”

The discomfort came back. She knew Danny was only trying to be thorough with his assignment, but that didn’t change the fact that his questions hit a little too close to the mark. “The only way to find out for sure would be meeting one in real life.” She said in a voice so low, even with his enhanced senses Danny almost didn’t hear her. 

Noticing the tension suddenly coming off of Sam, her previously laid-back and even playful posture changing to a much more tense one: legs crossed tightly, her shoulders stiff, both hands clutching at the fabric of her shorts…; Tucker decided it’d be best if they let the topic go for a while. And so, he did what he did best:

He abruptly changed the topic. 

“So Sam,” he called out to her, quickly getting both her and Danny’s heads to snap to him, “I don’t think you’ve ever told me.”

“Tell you what?” What was he doing?

“What’s your deal?”

Sam blinked. “My deal?”

The teal-eyed young man just nodded. “Yeah, what’s your type?” He asked as he leaned forward, mindlessly toying with his PDA. “Because in all the time I’ve known you, I’ve not seen you once with a boyfriend, not even a fling.”

“Tucker, you’ve known me for a year.” She reminded him. “Not necessarily as much time as you make it out to be.”

“Hey, a lot can happen in a year!” He defended. 

“Tucker himself has had three different girlfriends in the last three months.” Danny added. 

“See?” Then, he turned to his best friend with an unamused expression on his face. “But, dude, don’t say it like that; you make me sound like a player.”

“I’m just saying,” the black-haired youth put his palms up in surrender, a lazy grin on his face, “it’s not bad for a guy who was rejected by every single girl back in high school.” 

Tucker just glowered at him, before turning his attention back to Sam. “So...back to the question; what’s your type of guy?”

She could not believe this was happening. Back when she was a teenager, a tinsy bitsy part of her she tried very hard to suppress secretly longed for talking about girl stuff with the other girls her age from her clan. Something as silly as talking boys, makeup, or any other teenaged-girl nonsense with other people would’ve made her lonely childhood all the more bearable, and now…

...now she was being offered to talk about boys...by other boys...at twenty-one. And the worst part was that she was actually considering it. Her life could not get any more complicated than that. Sighing through her nose, unable to believe how low she’d stooped, she gave in. 

Her type...that was a good question. Back when she was still in her early to late teens, she would’ve said she was looking for a unique guy. The type of guy who valued his individuality and who was above all the pointless trends dominating the public with their pre-fabricated, market-targeted predictability. A guy who didn’t fall into any of the classical high school cliques: someone who wasn’t a brainless jock, or a geeky kid, or one of those posers who hid behind a fake dark persona to get people to pay attention to him.

Someone who embraced being different rather than exploited it. 

Someone like her. 

But all those fantasies turned out to be nothing more than that; fantasies. Delusions. Sooner or later she’d have to open her eyes to the world. She just wished Gregor hadn’t been the one to open them up for her… After that fiasco, Sam finally learned what she was truly looking for in a partner. “...a good guy.” She practically whispered in the end. 

Tucker and Danny exchanged a confused glance once their initial surprise at Sam’s sudden reply, after several minutes of silence, had worn off. It was the former who spoke up, “...I’m not sure that qualifies as ‘a type.’”

“Of course it does!”, she protested. “Just like girls stereotypically fall for ‘bad boys’, we can also fall for ‘good guys.’ And I’ve had my fair share of bad boys, thank you…” she muttered before looking away from them. 

Something about the way Sam said those words hinted at a lot more going on than just a teenage girl crushing over a guy with a motorcycleーand hopefully not a ghost one who only wanted her as a vessel for his real girlfriendー, but she seemed to have closed herself off completely. Danny wanted to ask her about it, but something in the way her position stiffened changed his mind. No way would Sam open up to someone she'd just met over something so personal.

Instead he asked, "And how about looks?"

She flashed him a small smile and that alone made his entire week worth it. "I'll admit, I do have a soft spot for guys that aren't exactly average."

Tucker scoffed. "Well, duh! I'd also pick a supermodel over a plain-looking chick any day of the week..."

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

Despite the seriousness in her voice, she eventually broke down laughing, the other two joining in on the fun soon after. As her giggles quieted down, Sam stole a furtive glance at Danny. The way he seemed to sense her discomfort despite barely knowing each other and making an effort to keep her mind away from unpleasant thoughts was enough to make her heart flutter, making her blush slightly at the realisation. 

She shook the feeling off, though. Danny was sweet, and maybe a little cute despite his, apparently, natural awkwardness, but she wasn’t looking for romance, having much more important things to take care of. Besides, he really wasn’t her type, cute as he may be. Still, that didn’t change the fact that she wanted to thank him for his help in some way. And, against her better judgement, she knew just what to do. 

An hour passed by until Tucker had to bid them goodbye, saying he was going to be late for class if he stayed with them any longerーalthough he really, really wanted to skip that lectureー, and so, he left his two friends to their own devices. Another forty minutes or so later, it was finally time for them to go to their respective classes, too. 

Rolling her eyes at Danny as he opened the door for her, but thanking him nonetheless, Sam stepped out of the café, her companion close behind her. “About the spell thing you asked me about earlier…” she started, her words coming out of the blue and tearing Danny away from his own thoughts, “I guess, if witches are actually just humans with magical powers, then it’d make sense if they’d need some sort of way to activate said powers…”

Mouth slightly agape, he finally found the words, “You mean like a password or something?”

She looked over at him from the corner of her eyes, a cryptic smirk on her lovely face. “Maybe.” 

Turning to face him, her smile widening but never losing its mystery, she waved before walking past him, “See ya, Danny.”

Danny slowly waved at her in return, unbidden, too gobsmacked to form a coherent sentence. Because just like that, she was gone. 

[flowers-of-io]

The Legionless

So VoG drops tomorrow and I’ll be trying my best at a Day One run! But most importantly, I wanted to celebrate it with some lore analysis until my theories are proven wrong by canon.

So, Kabr.

1) Aspect

We actually heard from him in D2 at least twice. There’s the Kabr's Glass Aegis jumpship from CoO and the Gnomic chapter from my beloved book Aspect. Aspect is weird in itself, but in short, it’s a story about the Black Garden first and foremost, and how what I believe is the Darkness waking up affects the Sol Divisive. And, of course, what it means to Praedyth and the Ishtar Collective teams stuck in the Vex network.

I think what happens in Gnomic is Kabr slowly losing himself to the Vex. I have no idea why he is/is not walking in the Garden, but my theories about how everything that has ever happened and will ever happen is happening somewhere in the Garden is a thing for another time and I’ll spare you the brainworms for now. Anyway, the sentences are crowded and interweaving and messy and I think it’s the Vex collective mind and Kabr’s mind mixing at this point.

(Watch your six don't worry about me grow grow grow)

Ok buddy Goblin

(Who knows what's listening it's listening it's saying grow grow grow)

GROW GROW GROW this sounds so Vexy. That’s what they do. They possess you and grow inside you (see: Asher). And that’s what the Garden does, it grows, it grows into you and you grow into the Garden. “Everything in the Garden becomes of the Garden”. “Everything grows here,” Jolyon said.

There is a shape that is his mind and the shape is protect the shape is sacrifice the shape is (grow)

This is Kabr realising the final shape, I think--”final shape” as in “the state of the universe the Vex strive towards”. It speaks for itself, the shape is protect the shape and sacrifice for the shape and grow towards the shape and uh remember my aiat essay--

A Titan is a Wall a Shield a Cup filling itself to overflowing. The container changes the shape of its contents but the contents change the nature of the container and the nature is eternity.

This just sounds as something Toland would say. The container changes the shape of its contents but the contents change the nature of the container and the nature is eternity and my brain is on fire???

Okay. Kabr is the container. The radiolaria he so ingeniously drank is the new content. Kabr changes the shape of the Vex but the Vex change Kabr’s nature; and the nature is eternity, so they change the way Kabr relates to it? We know Guardians are immortal and the Vex as a collective also (in a way), but these are two different immortalities. Eternity means different things to them. They have a different relation to it. From what I see, the Vex changed the way Kabr perceives eternity, from the Guardian way to the Vex way. But he changed the shape of the content, so he, in a way, is still Kabr.

He was named too well he is his own grave and the cut on his left hand will never heal.

This is both obvious and intricately weird. ‘Kabr’ means ‘grave’ in Arabic; pretty telling. And the cut on the hand that never heals we see in Legends: The Black Garden Grimoire card, but there it is Pujari who has it:

I am Pujari. These are the visions I have had of the Black Garden. [...]

At the end of the path grew a flower in the shape of a Ghost. I reached out to pluck it and it cut me with a thorn. I bled and the blood was Light. [...]

When my Ghost raised me from the sea there was a thorn-cut in my left hand and it has not healed since.

I’m dying to know what the connection here is. I have no idea. No theory, no explanation.

Also what’s with the ^K^V^s? Green from FFC had an interesting theory about this being some kind of music writing but I didn’t understand it so I won’t quote, but I recommend the FFC episodes on Aspect because they’re fascinating. And, well, we know that Vex and music are strongly connected.

2) Aegis

.................Or is he? Is he losing himself truly?

Relic: The Aegis seems to document Kabr’s last clear thoughts before the Vex interweave themselves with him:

I have destroyed myself to do this. They have taken my Ghost. They are in my blood and brain. But now there is hope. I have made a wound in the Vault. I have pierced it and let in the Light. Bathe in it, and be cleansed. Look to it, and understand: From my own Light and from the thinking flesh of the Vex I made a shield. The shield is your deliverance. It will break the unbreakable. It will change your fate. Bind yourself to the shield. Bind yourself to me. And if you abandon your purpose, let the Vault consume you, as it consumed me. Now it is done. If I speak again, I am not Kabr.     

Now let me introduce you to the final line of Kabr's Glass Aegis:

it was/was/was not done i/i speak again and was wrong i am still him and i am now them and   THAT   IS   FUTURE^V^V 

DO YOU SEE IT? DO YOU SEE THE PARALLEL? I SEE THE PARALLEL

while joined( Glass, Sky )

The Vex are “glass and silica”, the Sky is another term for the Light.

I guess the “cases” (past, present, future) mentioned in the loretab talk about the Vex’s (im)possibility to return to the primordial Garden, or at least the primordial state before the Winnower threw hands with the Gardener.

case Past:

return( i m p o s s i b l e )

// grazing, rocked, major, distilled.

case Present:

return( v e s t i g i a l )

// vault, aegis, awakened, infinite.

case Future:

// return( i n e v i t a b l e )

// light, truth, dark.

Vestigiality is an occurence when in the evolution process some species’ organs lose their previous function because it is not needed anymore, but retain those organs. Make of that what you will, I have my theories but I can’t quite put them into words.

if( t h e   w a r d e n s   s e e   t h e   BRIGHT   a s   d e a t h ) &&

( t h e   THINKERS   e q u a t e   BLACK   w i t h   e n d ) then

What is going on??? I guess we’re the Thinkers but who is the Wardens??

their/our/their desire is not malevolent it is survival she is/was/is wrong there is no evil there is no despise there is no   SEPARATION   there is harmony inside if you/you/you allow it

This, I think, speaks about the Exo Stranger. She said the Vex were “an evil which surpasses all other evil” when she tasked us with destroying the Black Heart. The “there is no separation” seems to be about how the Vex are now Kabr and Kabr is the Vex and the Vex wish to see the world be them and everything to be the pattern as they are the pattern and *gasps for air*

Harmony. I. The music.

Also the final flower pattern was repetitive. Is that harmony? No. Does it hit oddly close to home for me? Yea.

Also the ^K^V^s appear in this entry as well and I still have no idea what they mean.

3) Theory

Kabr is not gone. Kabr is Kabr. The Vex did not eat him up, they have woven themselves into him and they are now one, the Vex and him. I think this is what might have happened to Asher, too.

And I think Kabr will come back, in a way. At least that’s not the last that we’ve heard from him.

(I put this quickly and without thinking much & just riding on the hype, so forgive me if it seems a bit incomprehensible.)

[milfjensenackles]

good 4 u

1.7k words | read it on ao3

inspired by good 4 u by olivia rodrigo. cas confronts dean about kicking him about of the bunker. set during 9x06

“What are you doing here, Dean?”

Dean walked up and placed a candy bar on the counter in front of Castiel, who was working the register at his new job at the Gas-N-Sip. It was the first time Cas had seen him in months, ever since Dean unceremoniously kicked Castiel out of the bunker without explanation. Dean had his typical shit-eating grin on his face, which only served to frustrate Castiel further. Cas looked him up and down. He was sure his face gave away both the simultaneous relief and anger he felt at seeing Dean again.

“There’s a case nearby. Thought you might want to help out.”

Cas felt something akin to disappointment, but he couldn’t figure out why. He scanned the candy bar, and once Dean paid for it, he handed the chocolate back to him. “I can’t, Dean. I’m working. It was hard enough trying to find a job around here, I can’t lose this one.”

Dean winked at him and Cas couldn’t help the small smile that spread across his face. “I can wait until you’re off the clock. I’ll pick you up. What time?”

Cas let Dean know when and where to pick him up in a few short hours, and then he walked out the front door, already having eaten three-quarters of the chocolate bar he purchased moments ago. Cas watched him pull out of the parking lot through the window. He missed Dean desperately. All Cas wanted… All Cas dreamed about since leaving the bunker was Dean coming back for him like he did today. Except Dream Dean would ask Cas to come home with him. Dream Dean would ask Cas to stay.

The next customer in line tapped his hand on the counter to get Cas’ attention. “Hey buddy, I don’t got all day.”

Cas apologized before continuing his work mindlessly, imagining what it might be like to quit his job right now and leave to hunt with Dean every day, so that he might somehow prove his usefulness to the man he considered a best friend.

Dean picked Cas up at five o’ clock on the dot as promised. The case seemed simple for Dean’s standards, but Cas wasn’t going to point that out if it meant they could spend more time together.

Cas couldn’t help but stare at Dean as he impersonated yet another FBI agent at the scene of the crime. Castiel knew he had strong feelings for Dean. He’s known since he pulled Dean out of Hell. It wasn’t until he became human, though, that he learned of the true nature of these feelings. Dean laughed at something another police officer said, and Cas grinned too. Dean was beautiful. Cas wished he could tell Dean how beautiful he is. Dean couldn’t, wouldn’t ever feel the same for Castiel, though. Cas knew that. Why else would Dean kick him out of the bunker? Now that Cas didn’t have the ability to heal Dean and Sam or help them fight, Dean didn’t want him around. It made sense. Cas didn’t blame him.

After they finished gathering as much information as possible from the witnesses in town that evening, Dean stopped to grab a couple of burgers at a drive-thru and then took them back to a local motel. The drive over was silent. Once they finally pulled into the parking lot, Dean put the Impala in park and looked over at Cas.

“So we’ll stay here tonight, and then I can drive you back to work in the morning on my way out of town.”

Cas remained silent.

“Cas, buddy? Does that sound okay?”

Cas spoke through gritted teeth. “That’s fine.”

They walked into the room Dean booked earlier that day. Cas placed his single bag on the floor but remained near the door, hoping to avoid any more conversation until Dean fell asleep.

“Are you mad at me or somethin’?” Dean placed his wallet on the bedside table before moving closer to where Cas was standing. Cas took a small step back, increasing the space between them like Dean was a magnet and Cas was the opposing force.

“I don’t want your pity, Dean. Allowing you to pay for this hotel room is more than I should have let happen.” Cas clenched his fists against the side of his jeans, feeling sick at the idea of Dean staying here with him, pathetically human. Powerless. And yet he didn’t really want Dean to leave him again, either.

Dean started to take some wadded-up bills out of his wallet. “Cas… would you just- “

“No, Dean.”

Dean held up his hands in surrender. “If you’re doing so well, I’ll just leave you alone then. Fine.”

“You know what, Dean? I’m not doing well. I’m miserable. I don’t know how to be human. I had to learn how to brush my teeth from the homeless man I met on my way to the bunker who was kind enough to provide me with toothpaste. I don’t understand why you kicked me out and then decided to come rub it in my face when I was finally doing okay without you. Do you know how many nights I spent sleeping on the floor of the Gas-N-Sip, crying? Not understanding what it meant to feel emotion strong enough that it caused my eyes to water?” Cas gestured to his eyes, finally pausing for a moment, “You seem like you’re doing fine without me, but if you cared enough to ask you would know that I’m not. So good for you, I guess.”

Dean was staring at him, bewildered by the sudden outburst. Cas suddenly felt embarrassed and looked away in an attempt to hide the heat that was spreading across his face.

“Cas…” Dean attempted before he was cut off by Cas holding his hand up to stop him. Dean took another step toward Cas. Cas took another step back, until he was standing up against the door of the motel room.

“Dean, don’t. You don’t have to say anything. I’ll just leave. I shouldn’t have come in the first place.”

Cas reached for the doorknob but was stopped suddenly by a hand on top of his own. Dean was much closer than a moment before, his breath ghosting across the side of Castiel’s face and his other hand reaching up to press against Cas’ chest, holding him in place. “Cas, please,” Dean whispered, “Just let me explain.”

Cas shook his head, flicking his eyes down to Dean’s mouth before looking back into his eyes. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

Dean’s lips parted immediately, eyes going wide. He leaned in slightly, waiting for permission, as though he wasn’t completely sure this was what Cas was asking him for. Cas removed his hand from the doorknob to wrap his arms around Dean’s waist, pulling him in to finally close the distance between them.

Cas immediately melted into it, sliding one of his hands up Dean’s back and spreading his fingers through Dean’s thick hair that he’d always wanted to touch. Dean responded in kind, pressing Cas against the door like he couldn’t get their bodies close enough. Dean moved his hands under the trenchcoat, gripping Cas’ hips hard. He maneuvered them so that Cas’ back was to the rest of the room, pushing backwards until Cas’ knees hit the bed and they fell onto it together, Dean straddling Cas’ thighs and moving him up across the bedspread.

“Cas,” Dean breathed out against Cas’ lips, “I never wanted you to leave. I had to… I had to…”

“Dean, please. Just let me have this,” Cas begged, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Dean’s neck, “If you’re going to leave again, just give me this one thing.”

Dean pulled back like he’d been punched in the face. “Cas, what? I thought we were finally on the same page here.” Cas tried to interrupt again, but Dean placed his thumb along Cas’ bottom lip to quiet him. “Let me talk. I came here to see you. I don’t care about the case. I don’t care about anything else. It’s been killing me to know you’re out here all alone and I can’t do anything about it. So no, I’m not doing fine without you, Cas. I’m doing terrible.”

Dean moved his hand to gently cup Cas’ chin, and Cas leaned into it. Dean kissed Cas again, slowly this time, as though he wanted to savor the moment. Cas felt like he might cry, for an entirely different reason than when he was sleeping on a gas station floor. Cas felt… cherished. He pulled away from Dean again. “Dean, I… why did you ask me to leave, then?”

Dean flopped forward onto Cas, pressing his face into the mattress behind Cas’ shoulder and groaning. “Cas, believe me. That’s the worst thing I’ve ever done, and I would take it back if I could, but Sammy was gonna die. I prayed for help and the angel Ezekiel answered me. He possessed Sam, but if Ezekiel leaves Sam’s body, Sam won’t make it. Ezekiel told me you had to leave. I didn’t have a choice, Cas. I didn’t, and I’m so sorry.”

Cas sat up, pulling Dean with him, and looked into his eyes. “I understand, Dean. You did what you had to do for your brother. I would have done the same for either of you.”

Dean moved to hold Cas’ face in his hands. His eyes shone with what Cas understood to be relief and quite possibly… fondness. “I love you, Cas. I should’ve told you a long time ago. This isn’t a one-time thing for me. I love you so much.”

Cas was shocked by this confession, never expecting them to get this far. He always imagined his life with Dean at the center, possibly growing old together but expecting nothing from the other man. Now, the possibilities were endless. Dean, the man he had loved for so long, loved him in return. Cas would spend the rest of his short human life cherishing Dean like a man kneeling at an altar might cherish his god. Cas pressed their lips together, soft and sweet, before responding, “I love you, too, Dean.”

[words-writ-in-starlight]

for the ship headcanon meme: star trek pairing of choice, #16-#20?

Bet you thought I forgot about this ask meme, fuckers!  And you’re right, I did, but the beauty of forgetting is that sometimes you remember.  Anyway, as always, it’s Michael/Saru Hours, lads.

16) When the zombie apocalypse comes, how do they cope together?

This is not a headcanon, but I have this fragment of a fic idea in my head based on this question, and that fragment of a fic idea is like...some kind of case fic where Discovery finds a planet being ravaged by Basically A Zombie Apocalypse and Michael and Saru get stranded there.  Ideally, for my personal enjoyment, I would want to slot it into the plot of s1 as early as possible, because the best/worst dynamic there would be Michael choking with guilt and yet still one of the finest scientific minds in Star Fleet, and Saru unable to keep himself from pressing on the fresh bruise of loss, unable to trust her, and the two of them still working together flawlessly.

Because that’s the thing, isn’t it?  Even when they can’t stand each other, they argue like a choreographed dance, and when the chips are down and they have to think on their feet, they still move like Georgiou’s trusted right and left hands.

Anyway.  That, but make it zombies.

17) When they find a time machine, where do they go?

If Michael came into possession of a time machine that actually allowed her to reliably control where she went and let her come back, I think she would sit down and try to do the temporal math to figure out how to avert the war.  I do not, however, believe that Michael and Saru, survivors of a fair amount of timeline hopping already, would actually risk going back in time.  I think they would both talk about wanting to go back, specifically because they know the other will talk them out of it, but I don’t think they would do it.

That being said, I would love a lotus eater prison AU where Michael and Saru are trapped in an idyllic dream of a world where the Shenzhou was never destroyed, Michael was being prepared to be promoted off the ship as a captain, and Saru was preparing to take her place, ft a lot of sadness about Georgiou and Michael and Saru working together to find a way to wake up.

18) When they fight, how do they make up?

Michael wears Raised On Vulcan tattooed on her face, sometimes, and especially when she defensive or guilty--if she’s angry with Saru, she’ll tell him exactly what she thinks he’s doing wrong, to his face, and it takes her a long time to learn that she should pull that punch a little more with people she cares about.  On the upside, that means that, when she feels like she’s been out of line and unnecessarily harsh, she’ll walk right up to Saru and tell him, blunt as anything, what she did, why she thinks it was wrong, and that she understands if he’s angry with her.  

This was initially…a weird experience for Saru on several levels, if he’s being honest.  A lot of his experience with people is colored heavily by the fact that very few people know how to deal with Kelpiens, and that means that he’s either handled like glass or he puts in the work to be treated like any of the other crew members. He’s not really sure how to deal with someone who handles him with exactly the same unemotional ruthlessness as everyone else, and it’s disorienting, and it makes him angry that it’s disorienting, because that’s what he wants, but also, Michael is sometimes an asshole.  She’s the first person that he’s ever argued with on the regular—really argued, a push and counterpush, shoving each other away from the science console and pulling out ad hominem attacks in a way that visibly infuriates Michael’s Vulcan training.  But quite frankly, they never felt like they needed to apologize for those early fights, under Georgiou.  It was part of the ship dynamic, to have Burnham and Saru trying to take strips off each other in a very professional and scientific manner.  As long as Saru never took a cheap shot over Michael’s upbringing and Michael resisted the impulse to go full xenoanthropologist on Saru’s species, they were very good at fighting.

(Personally I am of the belief that Michael only tried to pull the I understand where you’re coming from because of what your species makes you after the mutiny, after she was trying to be nice.  Before then, she expected Saru to perform to her standards and fuck the details.  Half the reason he’s so coldly furious with her over it is because he knows she’s trying to manipulate him, because if she wasn’t, she would never play that card, because no matter how nasty their fights were, she always fought with him as a person, not as a Kelpien.)

19) Where do they go on their first date?

There’s a fic that bounces around my brain every time I watch Discovery, and it’s about Michael and Saru having a first date (sort of) very late at night, when they’re both having trouble sleeping.  It’s not an arranged date, they’re not even really friends even though they’ve gotten past the stage of Michael letting Saru flay her alive for her guilt, but Michael is having trouble sleeping and she’s not a prisoner anymore, so she wanders, and Saru, frankly, sleeps like hypervigilant garbage since the Binary Stars, so he has a preferred hiding spot on one of Discovery’s few observation decks.  As Lorca likes to point out, they’re not a goddamn pleasure cruiser, but Star Fleet never built a ship without at least one view panel, not even their top-secret war machine.

Michael is avoiding people—she hates being asked why she’s awake, gets tangled up in her automatic shame over not being able to control her emotions.  It’s the middle of the “night” by ship standards, but Discovery seethes with activity around the clock, especially since Stamets pulls regular all-nighters when he gets really entranced and often has to be peeled away from his work by Local Exasperated Doctor Hugh Culber.  So she ducks into the parts of the ship that she usually doesn’t go, the places that are more for socializing and are empty at this hour, the places that aren’t often used, the places that are quiet.

She finds the observation deck dim and blessedly silent, with the stars spreading infinitely outside.  The room is faintly lit by the nebula off to the starboard bow, the one they’re using to hide their signature while they run some necessary repairs.  It’s a practical use, but it’s also beautiful, every window in the ship glowing with warm reds and golds, and Michael still finds the stars soothing after all this time, and so she drifts up to the glass with the vague plan of sitting down and spending an hour or two there in an attempt at meditation.  She only sees Saru, leaning back against the edge of the viewing window, when she’s close enough to nearly trip over one of his long legs, stretched out in front of him.

Michael, of course, apologizes, and turns to leave.  Saru never really does have a good answer, as to why he stops her.  But he doesn’t ask any questions about why she’s awake and she doesn’t ask any questions about what he’s doing here, and instead they sit in relative quiet for a while before Saru sits up straighter and offers Michael, again, a small bowl of fruit. It’s not familiar to her, this time, but he says it won’t hurt her, that it’s sort of like a lychee, and she believes him.  It leaves a bit of thin red juice on her fingers when she bites into the first one, and he recommends eating them whole to avoid it while she ruefully sucks the juice off her thumb.  It’s good—less sweet than she expected.  Saru settles next to her in the middle of the window and sets the bowl between them, and she asks how he always manages to have fresh fruit, and he admits that he can wring a lot more out of the replicators since he never gets meat. Somehow it turns into—talking.

Michael is startled to realize, around the hour mark of murmured conversation, that she might have literally never just talked to Saru before. It’s—nice.

(Because I’m physiologically incapable of letting things be nice, if I wrote this fic there would be an immediate sequel of Observation Deck Chats Redux, featuring them doing basically the same thing but after Michael gets back from the Mirrorverse.  Michael leans against Saru’s shoulder in a way that she would never, if she hadn’t been awake with nightmares and grief for pushing three days, and she tells him about the Empire like she’s confessing her sins, and they talk quietly about the ghost haunting their ship in the shape of Empress Philippa Georgiou. It’s not nice, but not for lack of kindness.)

20) Where do they go on holiday?

I think Saru and Michael would have two very distinct kinds of “holiday” and they have two destinations accordingly.

The first kind of holiday is Nerd Holiday, in which they find an unexplored planet and appoint themselves to the away team—everyone else on the away team is wryly aware that they are, essentially, third-wheeling a date, but Discovery has watched this whole situation unfold and honestly the popular opinion is that it would actually be easier to deal with a little bit of PDA than the current Very Professional Mutual Adoration Show.  Local Red Shirt Absolutely Agonized By The Very Correct Ten Inches Of Space Between Her Captain And First Officer, Reports As They Come.  Michael and Saru are pleasantly unaware of this and are having a great time arguing over whether they need another sample of that plant if it’s just a different color.

The second kind of holiday is actual fucking shore leave.  They both prefer planets or stations with a large variety of species—Saru is uneasy with being the center of attention among strangers, and since he stands head and shoulders above a decent percentage of the Federation, it’s hard to avoid unless they’re in mixed company; Michael never quite recovered from the perpetual sense of disjoint when it comes to being around all humans or all Vulcans, so being in a place where everyone is different makes her feel less out of place.  Neither of them like big crowds, so they’re the tourists who immediately leave the usual Tourist Area and find somewhere else to be, which has its ups and downs.  The first time they get into trouble on a totally safe colony planet because they decided to go exploring, there’s a beat of them looking at each other and silently agreeing that they won’t be telling the crew about this, because there’s already a running ship joke about what trouble magnets they are and they do NOT need to feed anyone more material.

[phantomphangphucker]

Ectober Day 14: Haunt - No Vacancy

Danny’s a protective guy, and an especially protective ghost. There’s no way he’d let someone potentially genuinely dangerous stay in his town. His ghost side especially won’t.

Danny knows what he has to do with this situation, he doesn’t like it, but it has to be done. It’s his job and this is his home, so he’ll handle it. Sighing, steeling himself, and phasing through the classroom door. Watching the teacher grading papers for a small while, “why are you here?”.

She doesn’t look up to him, “I’m grading papers. No I haven’t gotten to yours yet”.

Danny narrows his eyes slightly, “that’s not what I mean, and I know you’re aware of that”. So far things haven’t gotten violent and she wasn’t yelling or freaking out, so he feels slightly justified in hoping this goes well.

She sighs and looks to him, “and why can’t I be here? What? Do you think you get to pick and chose who’s allowed to be here?”, and bares her teeth at him slightly. Well... there goes being completely non-confrontational.

Danny crosses his arms, “actually yeah, yeah I do. I don’t know if you remember this or not, but I protect this town. Have for years. And I definitely do not let anyone I think might be even slightly dangerous stay here. Visiting is one thing. Passing through. Tourism. But that’s clearly not what you’re doing here. Considering”, uncrossing his arms to point at the stack of homework and recrossing them. He’s not going to give her an inch, considering how easily taken advantage of doing that could make someone. And protecting his town, his lair, his haunt, isn’t something he’s about to compromise because someone else has issues with it. Ghost or human.

She stands up with a scowl, clearly attempting to make him feel small by looming over him. He just floats higher of course which makes her scowl deepen. He knows doing that makes it clear he isn’t intimidated or interested in backing down. “I am doing my job. What I’m meant to do-”.

Danny cuts her off, “then do it somewhere else. Someplace meant for you”, and hoping his meaning will clue her in, put ideas in her head and draw her away. Whatever it takes to get her gone without getting physical or violent.

She practically roars at him, “NO. This is my classroom and has been longer than you’ve been in this town, Phantom. How about you get out of my classroom”, and moves to swipe at him.

Danny sighs, uncrossing his arms to catch her wrist. Of course she was genuinely attached. She wasn’t just here out of familiarity. But still. “You’re weak. Newly formed. This isn’t a fight you can win. And this classroom is part of what’s mine, and has been long before you formed. You do not have claim, I do”, and pulls her wrist making her smack into the whiteboard; clearly she doesn’t have a grasp on her abilities yet. Expected but it does make this easier. Driving off the young was much easier. He does feel slightly bad, but his feelings change nothing. Turning in the air to look down at her, “look, I get it. But this’ll hurt less the sooner you leave. The Realms will form you a perfectly fine lair”.

She snarls at him, eyes flashing orange, “I don’t want that. I already have what’s mine. I already have my lair. Now get out!”, and lunges at him again; Danny simply going intangible and grabbing her back as she passes through him, pinning her to the ground.

Danny sits cross-legged on her back, her snarling and trying to scratch at him all the while, “you can’t form a lair in someone else’s. That’s not how things work. Especially not with me. If you were stronger maybe, but you're not. In this situation, I am a wolf and you are a little pinned baby rabbit. I am giving you the option to leave. I am being nice. Normally I’d just capture you-”, readjusting to avoid her arm as she clearly is starting to get a handle on body manipulation, “-but you haven’t connected to the Realms proper yet. You haven’t formed an actual lair there. You’ll be destroyed if I capture you. Even I have a lair there, it’s not so bad”.

She sneers and snarls at him, trying to push up off the ground but unable to, “then why don’t you screw off to the Realms and leave me alone!”.

“Because here’s my primary lair and I have no reason to leave it. Even if that wasn’t the case, I am the stronger older one here. And I have more claim to any section of the Mortal Realm than any other ghost”, sighing and adding off-handedly, trying to keep a handle on his aggression, “except Wisconsin, but if you want to fight with the ghost whose lair is there, be my guest. He won’t hesitate to destroy you. Eat you”. He wants her to get that that is a serious threat. She is not staying. He is not allowing that. She is nothing short of lucky that his halfa status gives him better control over his ghostly nature. Otherwise, he probably would have already torn her to shreds.

She turns her head around, “I am not moving my haunt, now get OFF!”, and tries biting his knee, he goes intangible but her teeth connect anyway. Her smug look disappears when he doesn’t so much as wince.

Danny forcibly phases his fingers through her teeth, easily overwhelming her energy that’s trying to fight him, and pries her mouth open and off him. She’s starting to get on his nerves and poking at his protectiveness; and his possessiveness, “lady, you are not staying here”, leaning his mouth closer to her ear and pressing her into the floor a bit harder, “you will leave. I do not care if you want to claim this school or even this single classroom as yours. It is not yours. It will never be yours. You are in my haunt, my lair, without my permission and you will get out or I will eat you”, pressing her down a little more and flaring his eyes, “let me reiterate. If you do not leave. If you do not go to the Realms. If you even try to stay here. In my lair. Around my humans. Within what I haunt. I. Will. Eat. YOU”, his pitch rising and reverberating enough to shake the walls.

He can feel and see her watching his teeth as he snarls at her, making sure every single one of his fangs is on display. “You are a child ghost, but that does not change that you are a threat to what’s mine. GET OUT”.

She claws at the ground a little before whimpering when his energy nips at hers for a little added encouragement. Though if he’s being honest with himself, he hadn’t done that entirely intentionally. Her glancing at the desk, “can I... finish marking first”, and whimpers again when he presses down on her again.

Him snarling, “NO. You lost that chance”. He immediately chomps on part of the ecto-energy that makes up her hair and tears it off when she starts up protesting him again, “but-“. So long as she hasn’t connected to the Realms proper she won’t be able to reform or replenish her ectoplasm and energy. And he knows on a primal level that she can sense that just the same as him. That makes her prey to him, and he twitches harshly from trying to not act on that predatory feeling.

“GET OUT. NOW”. Grabbing her head and roughly forcing her to look at him, her ectoplasm splattered and smeared on his face will hopefully be enough.

“I- okay”, her voice is a little shaky, “okay. I’ll- I’ll go. Just... get off me and- and don’t take anymore”, the last bit coming out almost pleading.

He frowns, teeth still bared. Shoving her head to get out a bit of aggression before pushing himself to sit up on her back again, watching her, “give me a second. But if you move, I will bite you again”. He needs to calm down, or he’s going to lunge at her the second she starts moving around.

“Okay”. He feels slightly bad but also unpleasantly pleased over how pathetic that sounded. He had asserted his dominance and ownership, and she had bent a knee.

She seems to regain a bit of her confidence while he’s sitting there breathing, “will the lair the Realms forms me be like... here”. He can feel the struggle there to avoid calling ‘here’ her lair; which he’s certain he would have harmed her for.

“It will be exactly as you need it to be. What will let you satisfy your Obsession perfectly. That’s how Ghost Realm lairs work. It may resemble here. May. But I make no guarantees”.

“Does... yours there have somewhere that resembles here”.

Danny sighs, he knows she’s not asking to move to his Ghost Realm lair. She’s asking if it looks like Amity, his Mortal Realm lair. “I am different. My lairs fulfill different needs. We aren’t comparable”.

She snaps at him, “why the Hell not”, which he pushes on her back for.

Snarling slightly, “because you’re a normal ghost. I am not. The one I have there was conquered from another ghost who was ultimately weaker than me and threatened my lair”, sighing and breathing, “unlike you, the Realms will not form me a lair. And Mortal Realm lairs do not reform, if it were not for my conquered one then if this one were to get destroyed then I would be without a lair. Hauntless. Understand?”. He knows that was part of the reason for his overprotectiveness, the fact that his Obsession was protection only exacerbated that.

She stares off into space a little before shivering, obviously picturing what it would be like to simply not have a haunt. “Oh”.

Danny snarks a little, feeling a little more like himself, “yeah. ‘Oh’”. Shifting a little before pushing himself to float up off her. Her eyeing his hand as he holds it out to her and she turns over to sit up, cautiously standing. He sighs at her paranoia, understandable as it was, “you’ve agreed to leave. So I’ll help you to do that. The way from here to there lies with ghost hunters. It’s not the safest trip”. Continuing when she glances at herself, she was a rather human-looking ghost, “they have equipment that can tell”.

Thankfully she takes his hand, him transferring over enough energy to her for her to float and to turn her invisible and intangible. Her looking mystified as he pulls them up through the ceiling. That manages to get a bit of a smile on his face as he flies them off to FentonWorks, child ghosts could be cute; especially newly formed ones.

Danny parks her on the roof, “stay. Or else”, flashing green stained fangs for emphasis, and phases inside to check that his parents are gone. He’s very thankful they are. He can’t deal with them right now.

Floating back up, pleased she’s stayed put instead of making a run for it. He must have given her a decent scare then. Her taking his hand again without prompting this time and them heading to the lab.

He leaves her standing in front of the portal as he goes to active it, the doors clanging open and bathing the room in a toxic green glow. She fiddles with her fingers and glances to him, “do I have to?”.

Danny glares and hisses slightly, “yes”, and licks off a bit of the ectoplasm from his face.

“Will it hurt?”. He softens at that and shakes his head, sticking his arm through, “no. Don’t worry. I and plenty others pass through here all the time. And you’re not the first newly formed I’ve had to give the boot”, Sam and Tucker had asked the same before their first trip.

She nods and swallows a little, still practicing the lingering habits she had as one of the living. “I... thanks for not eating me”.

“Don’t mention it. But you can repay me by leaving”. Thankfully that’s enough prompting for her to walk through on her own.

Danny sticks his head through purely to check on her after wiping of his mouth properly, grinning at the Ghost Realms ectoplasm wrapping around her and pulling on her, urging her towards the lair that was already forming. At least things go right and she can feel the pull properly, clearly wants to follow. Turning her head to him, “I think this time I actually mean it, but thanks”.

Danny chuckles, “expected. Ghosts aren’t supposed to have lairs amongst the living. It’s unnatural. A haunt maybe, but not a haunt that’s a genuine lair”.

“Then what’s so special about you?”.

“Ah that’s simple. I’m still alive”, and pulls his head back through the portal. She'll hear about halfas soon enough. For now, she’s got a lair to focus on and he’s got his to get back to guarding.

End.

[happyandticklish]

If You Love Me...

Summary: In an effort to win at game night, Rory ends up discovering a secret about Todd. 

“If you love me, baby, won’t you please give me a smile?”

The game had become a tradition of sorts between the two, a ritual-esque activity that they preformed dutifully each night. Rory was the best at it. She had an unflinching constitution that Todd was rarely able to break through. He did manage to win on occasion, however, usually in moments of embarrassment-inducing desperation. She seemed to find his humiliation highly humorous. When he pointed this out to her she merely shrugged and replied, “Maybe you shouldn’t be humiliated so easily.”

It wasn’t an answer, but Rory rarely gave answers—only snide remarks.

The two were playing the game once more, on a rainy summer evening. Outside, they could hear the gentle drip of the rain, which was putting Todd in a pleasant mood much to his annoyance. Pleasant moods could be difficult during the game, as a contented smile rested already at his lips. Even Rory had a small upturn to her lips, though she was not on trial per se, and was allowed.

Currently her head was twisted upwards in a dramatic reenactment of a ghost, her voice coming out in raspy whispers. Her arms twitched sporadically by her sides, as though she was possessed by some great spirit. It wasn’t really a funny pose and would more often terrify others than it would make them want to laugh. She knew Todd though, and knew that he would find the pose and the fact that she was being something so ridiculously fake amusing. It worked. A smile, then a chuckle, then a laugh broke through as he struggled through the words.

“Oh c’mon,” she complained, lowering her head back and glaring at him. “You always make it too easy; it hardly feels like a win anymore.”

“I can’t help it,” Todd insisted. “It’s more your fault than mine. Maybe you should stop being so funny.”

“Maybe you should learn self-discipline.”

“I have self-discipline.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.”

“Prove it.”

“How?”

“One round,” she determined, holding up a steady finger. “If you can last through at least one round without laughing than I’ll believe it.”

“It’s your turn though,” he pointed out. “You’re breaking the rules.”

She shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re just chicken.”

“I’m clearly not a—oh.” He frowned. “You’re not funny, you know.”

“Agree to disagree. So you accept my challenge, then?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

Todd deliberated for a moment. He had held out against her in the past before, so it was possible. Besides, there was something about that taunting smile of hers, the quick of her brow, the wrinkled eyes, that made him unable to resist her. “Alright. Fine, I suppose. Also, that is extraordinarily unfair, challenging my masculinity over every little challenge.”

“Quit letting me challenge your masculinity and I won’t do it,” she countered. It was an irrefutable argument and Todd closed his mouth on what would have been a snarky reply, instead sitting up and waiting for her to begin.

When they had first discovered the game, they had created their own ground rules to even out the odds. Frowning was forbidden, as it allowed you to force your reactions away from their natural course; straight face only. Eye contact must be kept at all times; Todd had cheated a great many times with that before the rule was put in place. And lastly, no touching.

Rory liked to play hooky with this rule. She was a great fan of the “almost-touch”, pressing her body so close to his at times that his hair stood on end. As a result of this, Todd was unsurprised when she crawled across the bed to him, kneeling directly before him. What he was not expecting was for her to raise her hands and hover them directly on either side of him, her fingers curled in just slightly. His breath hitched in his throat, his heart rate quickening.

“No touching,” he reminded her, his voice barely reaching above a whisper.

“I’m not,” she said, holding his gaze tantalizingly in hers. She wiggled her fingers in the air and he clenched his hands into fists. If he squirmed at all he would go right into her waiting hands.

This was wholly unfair.

“Baby,” she said, leaning in so her breath hit the shell of his ear. “If you love me, won’t you please give me a smile?”

His lips wobbled perilously, his mind unable to focus on anything but those fingers, so treacherously close to his skin. She couldn’t have known. She couldn’t have known he was ticklish, or that this specific method would have such an effect on him. Yet she did and it was and Todd was so very, very fucked.

“Baby,” he started, a smile almost, almost, slipping onto his lips. “I l-love you…”

“Yes?” Rory asked, raising an eyebrow and sending shudders down his spine. Despite his better judgement his gaze flickered down to her hands and a sudden, panicky euphoria filled him.

“B-But I just can’t smile!” he exclaimed, his words bursting out of him in a breathy giggle as he fell back away from her. “Okay, that is unfair!”

“What’s unfair?” she questioned, crawling towards him on the couch. “That you suck at this game?”

“Rory—” he protested as she swung a leg over him, effectively straddling him. “Wait—”

“Or could it be,” she continued, poking him repeatedly in the stomach. “That you’re so ticklish that you can’t even handle the thought of it happening without laughing?”

“Thihis ihis m-mean!” Todd yelped, squirming away from her. “A-Ahand cheheating!”

“That is bullshit, and you know it.” She grabbed both hands, raising them far above his head. “The rule is no touching, and I never touched you. How come I never knew you were ticklish, by the way? Because, and I mean this in the best way, it is absolutely fucking adorable. Are you ticklish everywhere?”

“I don’t know,” Todd responded honestly, attempting to bring his hands down before realizing that they were well and truly trapped. It seemed unfair that Rory was yet another person that was physically stronger than him, and yet here they were. “No one’s ever really tried.”

“Really?” she asked, curiosity lighting up her eyes in the way he loved. “No one? Not past lovers, or those friends of yours? Not even family members?”

“Well, I’ve been tickled before,” he corrected apprehensively; she didn’t have a hand free to tickle him, as they were both fairly preoccupied holding him down, yet he couldn’t shake off the feeling that she had some trick up her sleeve. “Just not properly. Most people start and stop. Besides, I’ve never been a very physical person so most people simply assume I dislike it.”

“Do you dislike it?” Rory asked, not releasing him, but waiting cautiously for his reply. He knew she would respect whatever answer he gave her, which might have been why he said what he did next.

“I’m… I’m not sure,” he answered honestly. He had considered denying her outright, as it seemed the easiest way out of the situation, but for some reason he hadn’t. He hadn’t been tickled in a while, and it hadn’t been wholly terrible when she had done it to him earlier. A curiosity gripped his mind, and he found himself just as eager to know the answer to her question. “I suppose you would have to find out.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that an invitation?”

“It’s not not an invitation.”

“I hate double negatives,” she declared. “They tend to complicate things.” She smiled. “But for you, I’ll make an exception.”

“Oh. Well. Thank you.” Todd paused, hesitant to hear the answer, but decided to ask regardless. “I don’t mean to offend, but how exactly are you going to tickle me if your hands are—oh!”

The surprised gasp was ripped from him as she leaned down suddenly, pressing a soft kiss against his stomach. At first he was only startled, but when she started to press even more kisses along his stomach, each one light and fleeting across his skin, he began to squirm against his will. He tensed, inhaling sharply as the barest of smiles begun to tug at his lips.

“Rory.”

She didn’t answer, moving her kisses eastwards towards his sides, which somehow made everything much, much worse.

“R-Rory,” he stammered again, his fingers gripping onto the fabric of the couch. “Rory, wait, hold on.”

She paused, glancing up at him. “Is this okay?”

Strangely enough, it was. Though at the time the sensations had been entirely unbearable, Todd found that he missed their absence now. He flushed, diverting his gaze towards the cluster of bushes outside their window in an effort not to meet her eyes. “I—uh, yeah, it’s okay. It just, um, it really tickles.”

“Does it?” Rory confirmed, sounding almost surprised, though pleasantly so. “That’s good to know. I guess I’ll continue, then?”

Todd could only manage to nod.

Soft lips brushing like feathers against his skin, words murmured that formed vibrations rippling across his nerves. His laugh never rose above a stuttering giggle, sometimes a squeak if she hit a good spot. Still, there grew a kind of desperation in that simple tickling, so horridly soft that he thought he might implode from the inside. His eyes were closed as he drank in the sensations, his lips upturned in an eternal grin. He needed her to stop and yet he never wanted it to end.

Todd wasn’t quite sure what to do with that.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Rory whispered across the lines of his hips, and he huffed on an incredulous chuckle; whether this was from her comment or the way her breath brushed over such a sensitive spot was unknown. “Really, I mean it. You’re fucking beautiful.”

A blush spread like wildfire across his body, beginning at his cheeks and ending where her lips touched him. “I—uh, thank you. C-Cohould you maybe move to a new s-spot, thohough?” His body was tensed like a bowstring under her. “It, uh, hah, ihit r-really tihickles there.”

“What?” she teased, pressing a series of deathly light kisses along the area. He spluttered over a frantic giggle. “Here? Are you ticklish here, Todd?”

“Y-Yehehes!” he insisted, tugging at his arms but not trying, not really. “A-A lohot, a-ahactually!”

“Interesting,” she mused. “I wonder what would happen if I used my nails?”

His eyes widened in a panic. “W-What? Wait, Rory—”

Before he could protest, she had let go of his hands and was scribbling her fingers over the spot experimentally. Todd snorted, his torso flying forward and his arms shooting down. He managed to jerk his hands up right in time, however, just barely stopping himself from pushing her away. “O-Ohoho my gohohod! S-Shihihit, thahahat tihihickles!”

“I believe you’ve mentioned that, yeah.”

“R-Rohohory, Ihihi cahahan’t,” Todd protested. “Yohohou dohohon’t uhuhunderstand!”

“I don’t? Really? Then how come you’re not stopping me right now?”

Todd groaned, flailing his arms around wildly and finally settling on covering his face with his hands. “Yohohou’re sohoho mehehehean!”

Rory leaned forward suddenly, kissing his cheek. “You love it.”

Todd hated to admit that he did.

He managed to last for another thirty seconds, but when Rory found the spot on his hips that connected to his lower stomach, he found he couldn’t take it anymore. He sprung forward, quickly pulling her hands away. “Ohohokay, ohokay, enohough!”

Rory let up, smirking triumphantly at him. “I win.”

He dropped his forehead on her shoulder, still holding her hands. “I don’t remember it being a competition,” he muttered into her sweater.

“It’s always a competition.”

They stayed like that for a moment longer, letting the rain patter softly outside. Slowly, his breathing calmed and the flush receded from his cheeks. He could feel the rhythmic thumping of her heart beating against her chest, and he allowed himself to fade into it, content in that moment.

Throughout the rest of their game, Rory remained the sole winner, as Todd found himself unable to stop smiling, no matter what he did. And though Rory bragged about her superior skills long after they had finished the game, Todd couldn’t find it in himself to mind.

[salt-warrior]

WHEN EARTH TURNS TO ASHES

Masterlist

Chapter Eighteen: The Dawn of Human Suffering

Light snow was beginning to fall under the cover of a purple dusk, but Kai didn't feel the edging bite of cold. The five friends stood huddled together in a tight circle, humbly awaiting for the absence of the sun.

Cress had told them that the night sky would be better to summon Her because the gray realm is closer to the middle realm when the sky is dark. It all had something to do with how ghosts become more active within the cover of twilight and human fear.

A determined Cinder stood beside Kai, her slouched form shivering against her crutches. She held an old, worn envelope that contained the key to summoning the ghost of her mother. Her expression was stony and undecipherable, though Kai could feel nervous energy bouncing off of her like an electrical current.

"It's almost time," Cress observed. "We should come up with some sort of game plan for what we'll do once we summon Her."

"Wait," Thorne intruded, "won't we just summon her, burn the bracelet, and be done with her?"

"Essentially, but there are still some minor details that we might want to go over," Cress admitted, blushing as she looked at Thorne. "She might try to talk to us. She could attempt to hurt us, although I believe that we have to say the trigger words for her to be allowed to even touch us."

"It sounds like a horcrux," Kai said, earning a stare from each of his friends. "You know, in Harry Potter?"

"Anyways," Cress continued, ignoring Kai's words. "We need to be prepared for all the worst case scenarios."

"Worst case scenario, all of you run," Cinder said. "She'll stay with me, and she also won't hurt me. I only need Cress to say the magic words and then you can all leave."

"But won't she catch on fire?" Thorne asked, his voice hesitant to ask the question.

Cress shrugged her shoulders and held her head high. "We don't know; but if I do, just try to put me out fast."

A hush fell back over the group at Cress's words of bravery, but all Kai could feel was his own resolve. Kai looked at everyone huddled together, and wondered how on earth his life had gotten to this point. Less than a month ago Kai was a simple college student at business school. His best—and only—friend was Carswell Thorne. He didn't believe in ghosts. He wasn't ever at risk of dying. He wasn't in love with a girl who saying 'I love you' to could get him killed.

Kai wasn't entirely sure what his life had been leading up to. He enjoyed business school, but it wasn't his passion. Kai wanted to see things, and learn, and meet new people everyday. His father had given him all that he could offer, but Kai only wanted that which wasn't his. Kai was facing a situation that could lead to death, and all he could think of was his regret. Now was the time to redeem himself.

I could hold the entire world in my hands, Kai thought. Yet all I want is to hold Cinder. All I want is Cinder. She is the world. She is the one. She is the reason to everything, and now I know why Channary would do everything in her power to keep her safe.

"Cinder," Kai could feel his heart choking him with all the words he could not say. "I... I..." I love you.

"What Kai?" Cinder asked, tilting her head to the side. She looked so young, so beautiful. Kai felt an ache within him. His entire being was drawn to her, and he couldn't control it. The prospect of dying had his heart making a deathbed request: to kiss her. "What is it?"

Kai took a step toward Cinder. He reached his hand out towards her and placed his fingers against her frozen cheek. Her eyes widened in surprise, though she did not draw away from him. Kai took this as a good sign and brought his other hand up to her face.

Cinder regarded Kai with questioning brown eyes that made him want to write poetry. It was as if the whole world had gone silent and they were the last two humans left on earth. Blood pounded in Kai's ears, and the muted wind blew Cinder's messy hair around her face.

"Are you okay?" Cinder asked. Her eyelashes fluttered with the falling snow. Her lips were slightly parted and chapped from the cold— and Kai couldn't stop looking at them. Her uninjured hand left its crutch to rest against Kai's hand, her icy fingertips made him shiver. "Kai?"

The pull towards her was agonizingly strong. He wanted to kiss her, but he knew he couldn't. He didn't want to screw anything up. He could get them all killed, but what if they were already doomed? Someone would have to say the words, and Kai was done watching everyone else get hurt.

Kai leaned in and brought his lips gently to Cinder's. She tensed for a moment, then relaxed and kissed him back. She wound her fingers into Kai's hair, and he brought his free hand down to her neck. He could feel the blood pounding through her veins, and could taste blood and ice on her lips. A burning sensation rushed throughout Kai's body; he could have kissed Cinder for the rest of his life and been perfectly content.

Cinder was the first to break away, dropping her hand back to the handle of her crutch so as not to touch him. She appeared frazzled, but not agitated. Kai's lips were cold without hers, and he hurt as though he had been stabbed where her fingers no longer rested. His anguish burned in his eyes, and he couldn't let go of Cinder. He couldn't let go of her.

"Cinder," Kai whispered, but she wouldn't look him in the eyes. He no longer cared where he was or what he was about to do. He couldn't care less if the whole world had just been lit aflame; he didn't care if he was about to be lit aflame. "Selene," Kai croaked.

Cinder froze, her eyes large and afraid. Tension boiled around them like a pot of water over a flame. Kai couldn't hear his friends speaking around him. He couldn't see Cinder's silent warning not to say it. He didn't feel her shove him away. The only thing he knew where his lips whispering the words he had wanted to say for weeks. The words were his destiny and fate.

"I love you."

And that's when Kai burst into flames.

***

"Kai, no!" Cinder screamed as she watched a lightning bolt of fire strike Kai's body from the heavens. He was a blazing human torch, sending beacons of light up to hell cast sky— he was the dawn of human suffering.

Around Cinder, her friends echoed her cry. An anguished scream reverberated throughout the wooded area, harmonizing with a predatorial growl. Cinder knew that sound, for it haunted her every dream. It was the sound that she heard when she was alone with her thoughts; it was the background music of her brain.

The smell of burning hair and flesh bore into Cinder's senses. She collapsed to the ground, her entire body trembling with the shock and memories. Her body was out of her control. She could no longer help Kai. She never could. In the end, she was only ever intended to hurt him.

Her friends weren't so helpless.

Thorne charged at Kai, a determined glint in his horror-struck eyes. He tackled Kai to the ground, bringing him in rolling circles across the snow. Kai continued to shriek with the agony of being burned alive, but the flames were beginning to die.

Cress ran to Kai and Thorne, pulling off her coat and beating Kai with it in frantic motions. Iko moved to Cinder's side, telling her to breathe. Spots of black danced across Cinder's vision with the red and orange of the torch that was once a boy. Her throat appeared to have closed off, because no matter how hard she tried, Cinder couldn't bring oxygen into her lungs.

Panic rushed through Cinder, heavier than she could have imagined. She clutched at her chest as the hyperventilations became too intense. She could no longer see Kai, but Ran. Ran was aflame, and Cinder could only watch as his flesh became a blazing meal for Hell.

Then Ran became Peony— peaceful as she silently bore pain that can only be aroused by fire. They were burning, burning, burning. Everything was on fire. The earth had erupted into violent flames. Hell had been cast upon the face of the world and nothing could be seen except the dancing forms phoenix's turning the earth into ashes.

And now Cinder herself was burning. Her skin steamed and peeled off in layers as the inferno consumed her body; but the worst part was the smoke.

Smoke, smoke, smoke. It blinded her. It choked her. It drowned every sense she possessed as a human being. She could no longer see the flames, but the wispy ladies of fate dancing in front of her eyes. Nothing existed anymore except for the smoke.

Smoke

Smoke

Smoke

But this time Kai wasn't there to save her from the storm of flames and smoke. Her hero had been struck down by a blade of kryptonite, only it was Cinder who had stabbed him.

"Cinder," Iko screamed somewhere within the smoke. "Cinder, breathe!"

But Cinder couldn't breathe; not with all of the smoke.

"It's all going to be okay, Cinder. Just breathe." Iko shook Cinder, but Cinder still couldn't see Iko. How was Iko still breathing? Cinder wondered.

"It's not real, Cinder," Iko yelled. "It's not real. Just breathe. Breathe in and out with me, okay?" Iko's voice pitched higher.

How can she still breathe? Cinder thought. How come I'm the only one choking?

"Cinder, IN!" Iko screeched. Cinder tried to suck in, but all she could inhale was smoke.

"OUT!" Black sludge spewed from her mouth.

"IN!" Rolling clouds of stormy fire raided her lungs.

"OUT!" A thousand cigarettes worth of smoke swirled from her mouth. The sky was no longer black, but dark gray and stormy.

"IN!" Ice bit at Cinder's lungs with vicious ferocity.

"OUT!" Golden eyes were staring at Cinder, and blue braids were tickling her frozen face.

"Iko," Cinder croaked, weak and tired from all the smoke— but the smoke was gone. "Where'd all the smoke go?" Cinder slurred.

"Kai's gonna be fine, Cinder," Iko said, which didn't make any sense. Was Kai the one making the smoke? Where was Kai?

Cinder was just about to ask her questions, when a long lost voice spoke instead.

"Selene?" Channary cried hysterically. "What are you doing to my Selene?" The woman was tall, thin, and severely burned. She had a face which had once held beauty and charm, but had lost all of its glory.

"Mom?" Cinder wheezed. "Mom, mom stop. Don't hurt them."

Cinder pushed herself off the ground, no longer tired. There was no smoke in the air but a thin trickle swirling up from a small form on the ground. Cinder had not been choking on smoke; she had been drowning in memories.

"My dear Selene, are you alright?" Channary asked with concern. "I won't let them touch you. I will not let anyone else hurt you."

Channary rushed forward, as if to hug her daughter, but her hands went straight through Cinder. A shiver ran down Cinder's spine, and she recoiled from the loving touch. "Selene?"

"Don't hurt them." Cinder panted, taking a step back from her mother. Out of the corner of her eye, Cinder could see Cress and Thorne gently touching a motionless Kai. He was no longer on fire, but his skin was red and blistering. "Just don't hurt them anymore, mom." Cinder drew the bracelet from the envelope still clutched in her injured hand. "Stop hurting me."

A cry of anguish burst forth from Channary. "Hurt you? I would never hurt you, my princess!" Channary threw her body towards Cinder, but there was still no contact. "All I've ever wanted was to protect you; first from the bad men, and now from them."

"And you did protect me from the bad men, mom. You saved me," Cinder soothed, sounding more like the mother who was trying to calm a confused toddler. "But these people aren't trying to hurt me. They're my friends."

"That's what they always say," babbled Channary. "They make promises like jokes. They tell you they love you, but then they only hurt you. No one can be trusted."

Cinder reached for her dead mother, but still no contact was made. It hurt to see her mom like this: dead as the corpse she had identified, but still as crazy in life. She remembered a time when her mom had been healthy, strong, and sane, but it was nearly a dream. Cinder's childhood was gone, and it was about time her mother was as well.

"Mom, they're not going to hurt me. No one has hurt me except for you." Cinder's voice cracked on the last part, and she felt her eyes sting. She needed to distract her mom from the others. She needed to hurt her— to kill her. She didn't want to do it, but it was of mice and men.

Channary wept desperately; just like she had the last time Cinder saw her. Cinder could barely understand her through the sobs. "I... I have... never... hurt... princess... never... my... princess... never..."

"Mom," Cinder stood as close as she dared to the crazed ghost. "I know you didn't mean to. But I was only a kid. You were supposed to be there, but you weren't. You said you would come home, but you didn't."

Cinder could see Thorne gingerly lugging Kai up with the help of Iko. They got him into a fireman's carry, and began to lug his broken body away.

Cress was out of sight, but Cinder knew that she must have been preparing the fire. She was always there. Cinder only wished she had given Cress more credit before and not been so quick to assume.

"I couldn't come home, my love. I couldn't help what happened. They... they caught up with me. They killed me. I tried... but I failed." Channary shed silent silvery tears. Her body looked as real as Cinder's, her tears being the only visible giveaway to her true form.

"I know you tried, mom," Cinder said. "But I can protect myself. I can choose who I love and not get hurt, mom."

A cool laugh echoed from Channary. She wiped her tears out of her eyes, and smiled down on Cinder. It was the first time Cinder had felt like a child in nearly fourteen years. "My dear Selene, you innocent child. Love is a conquest, love is a war," Channary giggled "And don't think I've forgotten about your little friends."

Cinder's blood turned to ice as Channary spun around. She snapped her fingers in a simple motion, making Iko, Thorne, and Kai collapse to the ground.

"No!" Cinder screamed. "Stop! Don't hurt them!" Cinder could feel the panic welling within her. All of her friends were about to die, and it was all her fault. At least her mother hadn't spotted Cress. "Please," Cinder whimpered.

"Ah, my princess, I'm sorry. Children always think they know best, but that is why we have parents. Believe me; mommy knows best." Channary smiled at Cinder in a sickly sweet way that made Cinder want to punch a wall.

A crackle of leaves sounded behind Cinder, and she felt her heart drop. Channary turned and spotted Cress' small form, her wicked grin growing wider.

Another snap of fingers, and Cress was collapsed on the ground, completely helpless. Cinder could feel her mounting horror at the vision before her. She could feel another panic attack welling inside her mind and chest. It was all of her worst memories and nightmares coming to play like a horror movie.

"Which shall I save you from first, my dearest Selene?" Channary hummed gleefully. "Which shall I rescue you from first, besides the most dangerous one. Luckily I already struck the little fiend who dared to hurt you."

Boiling rage bubbled violently inside of Cinder, canceling out the panic. She couldn't believe that anyone could ever call Kai a fiend. He was all of the goodness in the world. He had saved her from a fate of flames, and yet her mother wanted to bestow that same destiny upon him only for loving Cinder.

"Who shall it be, my princess?" Channary chuckled. "Who shall it be? Who shall it be?" Channary was spinning in circles like a little girl playing Ring Around the Rosie. "Who shall it be? Who shall it be? WHO SHALL IT BE?" Channary screamed, flinging her sharp body to and fro.

"Me," Cinder snapped.

Channary stopped her childish spinning. She stared at her beloved daughter that could have been her identical twin. They had the same brown hair, thinned by hardships and fire. They were both thin and bony from lack of love and care. They both had the same scarred bodies that had been caressed thoroughly by fire’s mistress.

"What did you say?" Channary asked.

"It shall be me." Cinder said, taking off her coat and unravelling the cotton bandages covering her scarred hand. They had healed well and fast, but she would always have the shiny pink flesh of scar tissue.

A shriek of agony came from Channary as she fell to the ground at Cinder's feet. She tried to clutch at Cinder's mangled hands, but her fingers went straight through Cinder. She sobbed with a saddened passion that was hard to watch.

"It shall be me," Cinder repeated, "because I've caused myself more pain than anyone here. I've only been hurt because I love you." Cinder paused only a moment before yelling, "Cress, now!"

Flames lit the ground in an instant, spilling light and warmth across the dark landscape. Channary leapt to her feet in outrage, but it was too late; Cinder had already thrown the bracelet onto the smoldering fire.

"No!" Channary screamed as her body began to melt. "No! My princess, my love, why are you doing this to me?" Channary sobbed in anguish, her skin smoking and peeling away from the bones. "I'm your mother!" Channary yelled. "Why must you hurt me, Selene? What did I do wrong?" Channary's body was nearly gone, but her voice still fought to be heard until there was nothing left of Channary Blackburn.

Cinder stared at the boiling tar-like mush that had once been her mother's ghost. "Everything," Cinder whispered. "You did everything wrong." Cinder's eyes stung. "But I still loved you."

A sob burst from Cinder, and she fell to the ground. Sorrow and grief for her mother spilled forth in the form of hysteria. She felt nothing and everything all at once. She felt gratitude and regret. She felt freedom and confinement.

"Mom..." Cinder cried. "Mom... mommy... I'm... I'm so sorry... mommy..." Cinder's hands reached for the place where her mother had been, but she was gone. "Oh, mom," Cinder whimpered.

"Cinder," Cress snapped, sounding surprisingly sharp during Cinder's moment of weakness. "We have to go, Cinder."

"My mom..." Cinder cried, knowing she sounded like a child but not caring. She had lost the final pieces of her mother, and it hurt more than she ever could have imagined.

Cress wrenched at Cinder's arm, trying and failing to pull her from the ground. "Cinder, we have to go now."

"Cress," Cinder whispered. "Why?"

It took Cress a moment to answer, and that's when Cinder remembered what had happened. The fire. The boy. The three words. A sacrifice that should never have been made. Cinder's grief took only an instant to transform into panic.

"Kai?" Cinder asked.

Silence.

[senpaiisimp]

Don’t take him!

~Yuji Itadori x reader~

Warning: Little death mentions

I  have a lot of fun writing short things for Yuji. I have other things for the others, they just aren’t finished yet :~

I think it's fair to say everyone in their lifetime had that one person that made their lives better. That connection that never broke even in the dark times. For Y/N that person was Itadori Yuji. He was the nicest boy one could ever meet. 

Y/N had problems with families when they were little. After their parents were killed or “in an accident” as the police stated. Y/N knew better. There was something else,a spirit or something. They couldn't see it but the presence left the house with them and then their parents and the spirit never returned. Being alone didn’t bother Y/N, they were always alone. It didn't bother them till they were forced into a different situation every few months.

Being an orphan in a public school wasn’t nice either. All the kids could talk about their families when they got the dreaded family tree project every year. “What are your parents like L/N-chan?” kids always asked. “Make sure to invite your parents to the parent night!” The teacher always said. Primary school sucked to say the least. Well at first it did…

“Itadori-kun picked up a bug!!” The girls squealed and the boys stared in awe. Not that Y/N cared, though the bugs were distracting you from your book as they were scary(-_-). “Hey, L/N-chan did ya see? I got rid of the bug, now you can read yer book in peace.” Itadori said as he came over after disposing of the scary creature. You stared at him in confusion, how would this boy who you’ve known not even a week know you detest bugs more than broccoli. He seemed to read your mind. He smiled before sitting next to you. “Ya don’t like bugs right? Whenever you pick out books with animals you make sure there is nothing about bugs in them or you’ll put it back and look for something else.” He explained as he scooted closer. You being stubborn and antisocial you scooted away looking at him like he was trying to trick you. He noticed your discomfort and backed off. 

As he was about to give up you spoke for the first time since you arrived. “T-thank y-you I-itadori-kun…” You shyly thanked him. You swear if the sun had a human body, it’d be him. ” Y-YOU CAN TALK” He whisper-yells. He forgot about the whole personal space thing and hugs you. “I hope we can be friends L/N-chan!” He says once he released you from the hug. As much as you wanted to say you don’t want friends his smile made it impossible.

Slowly but surely you became friends with Itadori. He didn’t make you do anything which made you uncomfortable. He was silent when you read, even when he really wanted to talk about something. Eventually you allowed him to talk as you hated seeing him fidget next you. “Itadori-kun-” “ I told you,you can call me Yuji since you let me call you Y/N.” You sighed,”Yuji-kun, what did you want to tell me about? You’ve been fidgeting since you sat down.” His smile always made your day. “Are you sure, I don’t want to bother you. You nod Well then…” His stories never cease to make you laugh. You were happy that you could stay with him forever… Till high school, of course it was high school…

Yuji had left to go see his grandfather again while you stayed at school to catch up on some peaceful reading. You notice Yuji left his textbook again so, knowing that his friends in the occult club were still here, you figured they would be able to give it to him when he came in the morning. The walk to the occult room felt different then usually. It felt almost eerie like a spirit was hanging over your shoulder. “They can’t be back, they spirits left when you met Yuji. Let’s just put his stuff in the room and go ho..me.” You were telling yourself before you say something to move swiftly across the hallway.

I forgot to mention that the years up until you met Yuji there was an eerie feeling always around you. Like someone was always holding onto your hand but never being there. Yeah that wasn’t pleasant for a young child however it was nice when you were alone in foster homes. You always thought they were figments of your imagination since it disappeared abruptly after Yuji hugged you that day.  Running up the stairwell that led to the school roof you thought to yourself “It was nothing it was nothing it was nothing” repeating it till you got to the roof and hid.

Now this was a good idea when no one was at school. You could wait up here till morning and Yuji found you, there would be sunlight and your childhood ghosts would stop haunting your mind again. That thought alone kept you sane.. Until the wall from the school crashed open with said savoir Itadori Yuji fighting something absolutely disgusting to look at. “When I meant you’d find me, I didn’t mean like this.” You fake scolded him in your mind.

Watching Yuji fight was terrifying especially when he almost got crushed by the thing. To your relief he seemed to have a burst of energy all of sudden and he killed the evil looking thing in one move. Yeah that’s Yuji for you.. Impressive strength as always. He did look different tho, he looked angry and.. Possessed like. That is Yuji Itadori right? He turned out to the city spewing nonsense that you couldn’t quite hear. So you having absolute faith in him got closer when he seemed to calm down.

“Y-yuji? Is that you?” You quietly asked, still a little scared of the sudden tattoos on his seriously hot toned body. “Well look at that! This brat already brought me a person of taste. Hehehehehe'' The voice coming from Yuji’s body laughed. “Oi, They're not for sale body snatcher, give me back my body.” Yuji’s voice came next as the black lines faded from his body. After the lines all went away Yuji smiled that wonderful smile towards you opening his arms to show he’s okay. “Hey, Y/N. What are you doing up here? Shouldn't you be heading home by now?” He questioned as he made his way to hug you. “ Yuji, you're all beaten up and-” Before you could finish your analysis of the most important person in life they were cut off by a loud yell. “GET AWAY FROM THE CURSE” They both turned to look at the boy with black hair who looked more beat up than Yuji. “Is he a friend of yours? He looks even worse than you.” You teased before slowly walking over to him, he looked in pain so you didn’t want to scare him. You may be quiet but you aren’t shy or afraid of people anymore. 

“Hey, I’m Y/N, the boy over there is my best friend. I think you might be confused, Yuji’s really nice if you get to know him.” Before the boy could even answer a man with a.. Blindfold on? Appeared out of thin air. “What a beauti! Nice one megumi but you're supposed to be finding the curse object not finding dates” The blindfold man said seeming to irritate the boy. After that Yuji explained the whole situation and became really scary after the white-haired man told him to. “W-what happened to Yuji, megumi-kun.. Why won’t you let me see?” You asked, Megumi had your eyes covered for about 10 seconds while loud things were happening around you. “What did you do to him?” Megumi spoke, still covering your face. Before receiving an answer you pried his hand off your face and pushed (more like punched) him away from you. 

 There are fears that come and go. This was one that never left. Using your loudest voice you could muster in the moment. “Y-Yuji! What did you do to him? Put him down! You can’t take him… I won’t let you!” You screamed as you went to run and get him away from the strange man. Megumi grabbed you before you could stand up. “Y/N right? Please calm down, Yuji is fine, just taking a nap. Though I do have to say this, you most likey won’t be seeing him again. He needs to come with us.” The white-haired man explained as he got closer. You felt as if you’d been stabbed through the heart. “Y-you can’t.. Y-Yuji’s all I have, if y-you take him, I’ll be all alone again. Don’t take him.. I-” You paused never saying this to anyone but your bathroom mirror. “I love him.. I really do… Please don’t take him…” You cried out in Megumi's arms. Now wasn’t the ideal time to admit your love for the boy but the thought of him being taken away..

“You really care about this kid a lot don’t you?” The white haired man started. He knelt down in front of you before pointing to the air “Do you see it, the thing next you?” He asked as Megumi released you. You did feel something grabbing your hand again, it was comforting in the moment. “T-there’s something grabbing my hand, nothing unusual for when Yuji’s not around.” You sniffled as you explained. “Are you trying to see it?” He prompted you. What is this guy crazy of course I can’t… see THE HAND ON MY LEG! You rushed to stand up and back away from it while it still grabbed towards you. “So you can, well I think that’s good enough. Megumi hold him real quick.” White hair said as he passed Yuji to Megumi. “You want to help him right?” you nod as he slowly walked towards you as backed you to the rail “ Are you prepared to help him through his pain and sadness.” You knew this answer before anyone ever asked you said with a strong voice. “I’d protect Yuji with my life any day he needed it.” The blindfolded man smiled as he brought his hand up to hold yours.” Then I guess we’ll be taking both of you then.” He said as he pulled you towards Megumi. “You're taking me with you?” “You said don’t take him, you never said don’t take both of you.”

As long as you don’t take him from me, I'll be alright.

wait till reader-chan finds out what happens on his first mission :(

[duhliriouss]

Joker One Shot:

Don’t Follow Me

Request: Anon request. Thank you for your patience! I’m a little nervous about this one. Some parts felt smashed together to me and I tried to smooth them out. This also hit home and gave me a lot of writers block too because there was a time in my life where I stopped taking my own medications. I tried to mimick the affects that I experienced into this 🖤(minus the psychotic part lol)

Summary: Tired of trying to be functional and happy all the time, Y/N decides to go off her meds, believing it doesn’t matter anyway. Joker is angry with her choices and behaviors, causing him to lash out for her own health.

A/N: This contains a lot of angst and is pretty dark but do not worry it has a fluffy ending ❣️

Beta Reader: @pcrushinnerd Thank you 🖤

Word Count: 2,216

Warnings: Angst, Mental Health, Swearing, Violence and Blood, Sexual Flirting, Dominance

“Why do I attract such crazy men?” 

 “Why do you ask such crazy things?” 

 You finally looked up from the gash below Joker’s collarbone to his eyes, bringing your hand to a halt that had just previously been dabbing the wound with a wet rag. You both mirrored each other with a slight smirk before bringing your attention back to cleaning off the blood that had spread across his chest. 

 “They’re going to find you, you know. We probably shouldn’t stay here.”

“They won’t. You saw for yourself... the car accident I was in. They won’t even be able to make it down the street from the station.” 

 You didn’t have to look up again to feel that sinister smile he had that bore into you, along with his low chuckles that you felt vibrate from his chest into your hand. Joker sat lazily in the wooden dining chair that was moved to the center of his living room. You sat on his right thigh with your legs draped between his as you cleaned his wound. You dipped down to clean and wet the rag again in the bucket that laid on the floor by his feet. The apartment possessed a comforting silence other than the water that dripped back into the bucket as you rang out the rag. And not to mention the riots that raged on not far down the street. 

 The full moon glinted through the window, managing to pass through the smoke that floated up through the sky - It was still the same night that Joker had killed Murray Franklin. Only a few hours had passed since the performance he gave to his new grown followers after the car accident.

 It also had only been four days since Arthur had killed his mother, and the same day you had stopped taking your medications. It was a coincidence that it had been on the same day. It wasn’t the cause for your actions. Instead it was a bad day for you for its own reasons. 

 It was the day you realized none of it truly mattered anymore. They never did anything for you. Almost every visit you had you would always ask for your psychiatrist to increase your medication, which she carried out for you time after time until that day, she finally said it was more than enough. 

 It was anything but enough. 

 You had stormed home that night, skipping the pharmacy deliberately. You haven’t taken a single pill since. 

 You felt okay the first two days however. Only feeling slight headaches and drowsiness. You haven’t had the time to tell Arthur; he had changed since the murder of his mother. The past few days had happened so fast, though you have been with him every step of the way. Taking his side and even helping him remove Randall’s body. You were there as he told Randall and Gary how he felt better after stopping his own medications. 

 You had silently agreed. 

 You have been oh so relentless since then. Joker had figured it was the high of everything that’s been happening that made you act out this way. Little did he know you were just following in his own footsteps.

 You loved it. You loved every second that these passed few days have given you. Joker and your’s relationship was never better. It was tense and thrilling and completely unpredictable. You fed off each others’ behavior and even played menacing head games to see how far each of you could go. Joker would always win. As fun as it all was, it wasn’t all just perks. You’ve been having nightmares that had caused you to wake up in a sweat. Today you have felt angry, tired, sick to your stomach. 

 You even had a couple psychotic outbursts. One consisting of you biting into the flesh of Joker’s collarbone for the whole city to see. You couldn’t help it. Joker had brought you up on the police car as everyone started to chant to the both of you being the King and Queen of crime. You got lost in the attention. And so had Joker. He showed you off by leading you in a ominous dance before bringing you to a halt, sucking and kissing your mouth before biting down hard on your lower lip. Your own blood had flowed down your chin. You saw the admiring twinkle return to his eyes for just a moment before he took his two thumbs and displayed your own bloody smile that almost reached ear to ear. You looked into his now dilated pupils and knew Arthur was gone. And so were you now. So without any thought you had sucked down his neck, down to his collarbone and biting down, hard. The shouting of the crowd intensified, booming in your head as you smirked against his chest that poked out of his green shirt collar. 

~

 Joker hissed as you placed the rag on his chin, cleaning the other cuts and dried blood that had dripped from his mouth. 

 “Sorry, I’m almost done.” 

 He reached around and cradled your hips in place, using his thumbs to draw circles on your hipbones. You shuttered as he did so before suddenly dropping the rag and bringing your hands to your forehead. You were having another random, splitting headache. The sound of the rag splattering onto the floor reached your ears with a throbbing jolt. You closed your eyes tight, pushing down on the starting point of your eyebrow to try and relieve the pain that came without warning. 

 One of Joker’s hands left your hip to push your (y/h/c) strands of hair behind your ear. His eyebrows furrowed together disquietly.

 “Sweetheart, what’s going on with you?”

 “I’m fine!” you snapped defensively, standing up fully, facing Joker with your hands still on your head. He stayed seated as his hand left your hip while you stood, his palm opened up and forwards in a silent plead for you to sit back down. 

 You weren’t usually like this and Joker knew it. He looked up at you as he mulled over how it couldn’t all just be the stimulation you have gone through over the past few days. There was no reason for you to be this angry right now. Your headaches were too frequent. 

 “No, you’re not, look at you,” his voice was flat and as stern as his painted features. He stood up and in just a few strides was mere inches from you. You kept your head down and peaked through your parted fingers to see how close he was. You could feel the tension in the air as he slowly moved your hands away from your head, replacing them with his own. 

 “You’re burning hot.” 

 “Yeah…?” 

 Your capricious behavior was officially taking over. You ignored the agonizing pain that resided in your head as you grabbed Joker’s hand, slowly bringing it down until it ghosted over your parted lips. You took just his thumb, poking your tongue out to lick up the shaft of it before gently placing it between your teeth. Your eyes stayed locked with his as you continued to lick guiltlessly. It was still silent in the room. The only noise breaking it being the clock ticking on the wall and Joker’s breath hitching under your actions. 

 “Stop.… You’re hiding something from me, aren’t you kitten?” His mouth stayed slightly open as his eyes flickered from your mouth to your (y/e/c) eyes. 

 “What? Am I not allowed to do this?” 

 You brought his thumb deeper in your mouth, swirling your tongue expertly. You could still taste your own blood from when he smeared your own very clownish smile. You watched as his eyes darkened mischievously. 

 Before you could even think to object, Joker took his thumb out of your mouth with a pop and replaced it with his own mouth. He hungrily smashed his lips against yours, it was enough to send your steps backwards until your back hit the wall. He separated your lips with his tongue demandingly, trying desperately to taste you. You willingly accepted his silent command up until an unexpected, ghastly sensation rose up your body to the top of your head. You shuttered and pushed him away from you. 

 Joker watched you in disbelief of your sudden actions as you turned away from him, holding your mouth with a shaky hand. You felt even more nauseated now from the movement it took to hide your face. Joker caught on quickly, hastily making his way over to lift and hold your hair behind your head. His left hand leveraged your left arm for you to lean over and throw up. 

 And oh did you throw up viciously. You stayed leaning over and held by him until you were confident it was all out. You would usually be extremely humiliated by such an incident, especially since things were just starting to heat up...but you had instead pulled yourself back up, turned to Joker with a wide, chilling smile, wiping your face with the back of your sleeve, then smiled even wider.

 “I feel so much better now!” 

 Joker had let go of you now. His eyes flickered from the bile on the floor to your misbehaved, spacious smile. His eyes bore into you now with a serious glint. All desire in his eyes vanished, replaced with the annoyance of knowing there was something you weren’t telling him. You watched as his jaw clenched while he licked the bottom of his red stained lip, clearly trying to find the words to question why you were acting this way. 

 “I’d say you’ve learned well from me in this short amount of time darling...but we both know it’s not the cause for this.…” 

 “Oh, but it is,” you smirked, taking a single step towards him. “I’ve only followed in your footsteps, Mr. Fleck.” You took a second step. 

 “What’s that even mean?! And don’t. Call me. That.” he breathed in a threatening tone. Your body fluttered to this new tension you were creating. 

 “I stopped taking my medications on the day your mother croaked. I’ve felt so much better Joker! Just like you said before you killed Randall. Isn’t that great?” Your voice turned more giddy.

 You expected Joker to lower his guard and match your deranged smile. But instead you watched as his hands clenched, shaking just enough to reach his clenched jaw. He huffed out a single laugh, staring off to the ceiling above you. Your smile lowered at the realization that he was still angry. He laughed again, shaking his head as he turned on his heels, making his way over to the bathroom. He threw the medicine cabinet open, fumbling aggressively with pill bottles, looking for the ones that had your name printed on them. He gathered them all in his hands, wiping the sweat off his forehead as he made his way back over to you. He walked fast, wasting no time to teach you a lesson. 

 He stopped until he was less than a inch away from you. You peeked up timidly as he grabbed your jaw, forcing your head to look up at him, making you flinch. 

 “Open.” 

 “But I don’t want to! Why can’t I be like y—“ 

 “I said open!” His voice raised into a deep yell. 

 You complied and opened your mouth, and he took his other hand that contained the pills and sprinkled them one by one on your tongue. You closed your mouth and swallowed. It was silent for just a moment until Joker sighed, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand again before digging in his red pockets for a cigarette. You stayed still as you watched him walk over and fall onto the couch lazily, crossing his legs, with his arm that held the cigarette draped over the back of the couch. He looked deep into thought. He didn’t look at you as he spoke:

 “I never asked you to be like me. I don’t want you to follow in my footsteps. I’m too dangerous for you. I’m sorry if you felt like you needed to.” 

 “I’m sorry...” you said, feeling ashamed as tears filled your eyes. 

 “Don’t be. It’s my own fault. I should have kept better watch on you.” He finally looked up at you. His heart clenched as he watched the tears threaten to fall down your flushed cheeks. “Come here baby girl.” 

 You walked over hesitantly, keeping your head down and your arms by your sides. As you got closer, he uncrossed his legs to give you better access to fall into his embrace. And you did. You adjusted yourself in his lap and tucked your head into the crook of his neck, letting the tears freely fall. He lifted his head and wrapped his free arm around you, taking a deep drag before he spoke again. 

 “I forced you into all this. But you need to promise me that you won’t follow me. Promise me you won’t pick up on my behaviors and actions. Close your precious eyes for now on when I kill for you. Your innocence is what made me fall in love with you Y/N. Please don’t let me take that away from you.” 

 “I promise.…” 

[darks-ink]

Parasite

Prompt: Plasmius is an evil ghost that has possessed Vlad since his accident. Vlad fights back as much as he can – silently apologizing to overshadowed businessmen while they share a mind, diverting malicious attention away from Jack and Maddie, and holding back against Danny long enough for him to learn Plasmius’ weaknesses – but he won’t be able to on much longer Prompt by: @sapphireswimming Word count: 4,056 Genre: Angst with happy ending

Content warning: possession, loss of control, powerlessness, self-sacrifice, dark themes

[AO3] [FFN] [more Phic Phight fics]

---

Plasmius, Vlad was sure, was the world’s punishment for any and all bad thoughts he had ever had. It was the harshest wake-up call imaginable… and unimaginable. Because, honestly, who could ever believe such a thing?

With the power of hindsight, Vlad had come to know, and acknowledge, that he’d been an awful human being. In college, he had constantly shunned Jack’s kindness, every attempt at friendship despite Vlad’s prickly responses. And Maddie… Oh, Maddie. He had refused to accept her interest in Jack, sure that he just had to convince her that Vlad was the better choice.

He’d been toxic, from top to bottom. That, Vlad was sure of.

It was not all that surprising, then, that this flaw of personality drew in equally toxic ghosts. Or, one ghost, specifically. A type of spectral parasite, which latched onto Vlad during the accident with the Proto Portal.

Vlad had not been in a good place, back then. He’d been in pain, horribly mutilated. Had been going through an experience no one else knew of, could sympathize or help with.

And all of that had been so much, that Vlad honestly hadn’t even realize that part of it wasn’t his newfound part ghost nature. Part of it had been a parasite, possessing him.

It had started slow. Had whispered bad thoughts into Vlad’s ear, its core pressed against Vlad’s until they were impossible to tell apart.

Had they ever truly been separate? Vlad didn’t know. Maybe not. Maybe he had only ever become half-ghost because a full ghost had possessed him.

Because that was what this was. Possession. Most people think that there is no difference between overshadowing and possession, but there is. It was just that most ghosts wouldn’t lower themselves to possession. There was no point to it, really, for most ghosts. It would allow them a foothold in the human world, yes, but it came with severe weakening. With a constant struggle to overpower the human they mingled with.

Plasmius had gotten lucky. He’d gotten his claws on Vlad just when he’d been sick, and weak, and ecto-contaminated.

And Plasmius had dug his talons in until Vlad couldn’t throw the ghost off anymore. Plasmius had integrated himself so neatly into Vlad’s very anatomy that removing him would surely kill the both of them.

The ghost had waited until Vlad was at his weakest, most inclined to listen to the venomous thoughts in his head, and then lunged. Had hard-handedly torn the steering wheel out of Vlad’s hands, pushing him into the crevices of his own mind, his own body.

At first, Vlad had let him. Plasmius wasn’t held back by any of Vlad’s weakness, his sickness, his lack of control. Plasmius wielded their ghost powers like an expert—because he was, really, an expert. Plasmius settled the ectoplasm and the flesh into their right forms, into a perfect mixture of the two, until their body was no longer wracked by sickness.

Plasmius dreamt of the things that Vlad wanted. Of getting riches, of getting revenge on those who hurt them, of getting the love they deserve.

Sometimes, Vlad wondered if he had influenced Plasmius right back. If he had carved the ghost’s mind into the same patterns as his own. Most times, however, he decided it didn’t matter. They had long surpassed the part where Vlad could influence Plasmius.

Freed from the hold of the hospital, of their sickness and weakness, Vlad had rejoiced. With Plasmius’ help, even his skin cleared up, scars fading away like nothing had ever even happened.

He’d asked, foolishly, what he could do for Plasmius to repay him for services rendered.

And Plasmius had laughed, in their shared mind space. Had cackled, sharp and vicious and unkind in every way.

“You won’t do anything, anymore,” Plasmius had told him. And after that, Vlad couldn’t remember anything.

The memories got muddled, then. Plasmius had torn control away from Vlad entirely. The only things he knew was what the ghost had accidentally slipped through into their shared space.

It was something about the way the ghost was constructed, Vlad thought. He could have his thoughts to his own, and speak to Plasmius only when he wanted to, but the ghost could not. All of Plasmius’ thoughts were direct, and easy to read.

They were the only thing Vlad knew, most of the time. He had no input from his body, from their shared body. Nothing from outside. Nothing but Plasmius’ thoughts.

So, over the years, Vlad had had a lot of time to think, and to reflect. To realize his many mistakes. To vow to do better.

Occasionally, Vlad was joined in the mind space by another mind. The first time it had startled him, but he knew what had caused it. Plasmius desired money, because money was power in the human world. But Plasmius was no businessman, had no financial smarts.

Instead, the ghost used the thing he did know: his ghostly abilities. Plasmius overshadowed businessman after businessman, forcing them to give their possessions, their riches and businesses, to Vlad. Or, more accurately, to Plasmius in Vlad’s body.

And, every time Plasmius overshadowed someone, the poor soul would gain temporary access to their mind space.

At first, Vlad apologized to every person Plasmius overshadowed. The businessmen, especially, he silently apologized to. Silently, because he didn’t want to draw Plasmius’ anger, his ire. The ghost probably couldn’t do him any harm, but the same could not be said of the people he overshadowed.

Later on, after Vlad realized what Plasmius was planning for their future, he started asking people to stop them. To stop him. He apologized first, of course, but then pressed on to point fingers at Plasmius. Begged people to please, please, inform authorities of Vlad Masters, dangerous half-ghost.

Plasmius had to be stopped, even if that came as the cost of Vlad’s life.

Nothing ever came of it. He didn’t know why. Didn’t know what to change so he could just convince someone.

Vlad Masters became a rich man. The proud owner of a Wisconsin mansion, decked out liberally in green and gold and Packers memorabilia. Plasmius, apparently, had decided that the Packers were an interest they shared.

Plasmius’ eyes started wandering back to the rest of his list of goals. Of acquiring Maddie’s love, of doing away with Jack.

And Vlad… Vlad thought back of all the scared businessmen that Plasmius had hurt. Of Maddie’s lovely smiles, and of Jack’s overly jubilant attempts at friendship.

He steered Plasmius away. To the best of his abilities, of course. He threw up distractions, made suggestions for Plasmius to pursue.

Two decades, he made it last. Two decades of holding off Plasmius, before the ghost finally decided it was time to chase down Jack and Maddie.

Twenty years was a long life, Vlad had consoled himself. And he peeked in on Plasmius’ vicious plans, and suggested, meekly, a college reunion.

The invites were sent out in Vlad’s name, of course. Two of them went to a little town by the name of Amity Park, addressed to Jack and Maddie Fenton. Plasmius had been beyond anger, but Vlad…

Vlad was glad. He was happy that those two had found support and love in each other. That they hadn’t been driven apart by his own accident.

Plasmius was still gunning for Jack, Vlad knew. Was sending all matter of ghosts after the man, yet none of them had succeeded. The few that dared to return to the mansion explained that another ghost had stopped them.

This, Vlad realized, was driving Plasmius crazy. The ghost decided, apparently, that he would just do the job himself.

See, Vlad had steered Plasmius towards a college reunion in the hopes that the ghost wouldn’t be crazy enough to murder Jack Fenton with so many witnesses. Now, he had started to worry that that might not be the case.

He had still been busy wondering if Jack and Maddie had held onto their interest in ghost hunting when Plasmius got agitated all over again. The ghost that had thwarted Plasmius’ attempts at killing Jack in Amity had come along.

Danny Phantom. The half-ghost son of Jack and Maddie Fenton.

Plasmius had tacked another goal onto his to-do list. To kill Jack, to acquire Maddie’s love, and to destroy Danny.

“Why not recruit him?” Vlad had asked, foolishly. “Isn’t he like us/you?”

This, apparently, had been the wrong thing to say. Plasmius had gotten even more agitated.

As it turned out, little Danny Fenton-Phantom was an actual half-ghost. They were a thing of legend, something that no one thought could exist. Plasmius had designed their shared body with this in mind. No one would be able to tell that Vlad was possessed, because they would be unaware of what was normal for a half-ghost like them.

Danny, however, would know. Or would lead others to know.

So the boy had to be destroyed, lest anyone else figure out what was wrong with Vlad.

And Vlad had looked at this teenager, this boy barely fourteen years old, and prayed for forgiveness for what he was about to do.

He had started pushing. Prodding Plasmius into lashing out, into making more and more vicious plans, in revealing his hand. And, simultaneously, in coaxing Danny to find their weaknesses. Steering the boy into knowing what Plasmius could do, and how to take him down.

Danny had to know that Vlad Masters—Vlad Plasmius, apparently—was trying to kill him. All Vlad needed for him was to get too fed up, go too far.

To end it. Before Plasmius could do worse.

---

Plasmius had another plan to take out Danny. Daniel, the ghost insisted on calling him. Plasmius had never been very good at respecting other people’s desires.

Vlad no longer wondered where that came from, either.

But his strength was waning. His ability to influence Plasmius lessened and lessened.

Which is why they were in the Fentons’ lab, now. They were fighting, Vlad thought, but he had no way to really know. Plasmius had locked him out of his own body twenty years ago, and had never let up.

So when Vlad suddenly thudded against a hard floor, cold against his bare hands, staring up at a blue face with blank red eyes and fangs, well.

He might’ve screamed.

A bolt of green knocked the ghost away from him, and it—he, something in Vlad’s mind told him this was Plasmius—snarled.

“Oh no you don’t!” a youthful voice yelled. Vlad didn’t look at the source, too busy taking in the ghost that had inhabited his body for all those years.

Pallid blue skin, only visible on the face and part of the neck. The eyes were entirely red, with no way to distinguish sclera from iris from pupil. Black hair, swept strangely in the shape of horns, and a matching black goatee. Pointed ears, and overlong fangs, which the ghost bared at either Vlad or whoever had yelled.

The clothing was a strange mix of vampire-like and lab clothes. Mostly white, the shirt tunic-like but with a tight shiny collar and gloves. A big cape, though, flaring out and red on the inside.

Plasmius snarled again, and Vlad could see, now, that his fingers were sharp like claws.

“Alright, that’s enough out of you,” the voice behind Vlad decided, and another bolt of green blasted against Plasmius.

Naturally, this only riled the ghost up more. He pushed himself up, lunging forward at Vlad.

A blue vortex caught him before he made it all the way, and the ghost was sucked up. Vlad followed the stream, repressing his surprise at the fact that his body let him, and saw…

Well, it must be Danny Fenton-Phantom. Just a boy, dressed in a black jumpsuit that reminded Vlad of the ones Jack always liked so much. Messy hair, an unnatural white, and glowing green eyes.

“Seriously, Vlad, what’s wrong with this guy?” Danny asked him, shaking the device that Plasmius had been sucked into. “I thought that taking you through the Ghost Catcher would help me understand you better, but this just made me more confused.”

Vlad blinked at him. “The… huh?”

“The Ghost Catcher,” Danny repeated, like that was the only part that could’ve confused Vlad. He gestured next to him, at a giant dreamcatcher-like invention. Its net glowed an eerie ectoplasmic green.

Yeah, that looked like something Jack might put together.

“What did… How did…?”

“You are seriously out of it,” Danny commented, frowning at him. “Your ghost half was all snarly, so I figured you were the smart half, but now I’m starting to doubt that.”

Danny had separated them, somehow. For twenty years, Vlad had thought that that would be impossible. From the moment Plasmius rewrote his body to be half human and half ghost, he thought it would’ve killed them both.

“How?” he asked again. He had to know. Could they destroy Plasmius, did he have the time—the strength—to do it himself?

“The Ghost Catcher.” Danny shook his head, watched as Vlad pushed himself into a sitting position. “It takes all the ectoplasm out of your system. When I went through it I got two distinct personalities, so I figured I would try it with you, but…”

Danny trailed off, then shrugged. “You’re not as mean as before, though, so I guess your feral half took that.”

“It was always his to begin with,” Vlad scoffed. He tried standing up, but wobbled precariously. Danny caught him by the arm before he fell, though.

“Well, yeah, I guess most of your anger came from the accident that made you a half-ghost, but—”

“No,” Vlad interrupted him. “The accident didn’t make me half-ghost. He did.”

Danny rolled his eyes, dropping Vlad’s arm. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You always blame my dad for it.”

“That’s not what I was saying at all.” Vlad shook his head, but let his eyes wander back to the… what did Danny call it? The Ghost Catcher? “The accident with the Proto Portal didn’t make me half-ghost either. Not directly, at least. I’ve got myself to blame at least as much as your parents.”

“Oh, uh.” Danny blinked at him, apparently surprised at the admission. “I mean, I guess that the Portal gave you Ecto Acne, and then that made you—”

“Plasmius made me half-ghost.” Vlad tore his eyes off of the miraculous invention, back towards Danny. Back towards the device in his hand that held Plasmius. “We need to destroy him, before he gets out.”

“Woah, woah.” Danny held up his hands. “That’s a little extreme, isn’t it? I mean, my two halves didn’t like each other that much either, but—”

“You don’t get it, Danny!” Vlad snapped. His heart thumped in his chest, blood roaring through his ears. Sensations he’d missed for twenty years while Plasmius paraded his body around. “You’re a real half-ghost. I never was. I was human, and Plasmius was the ghost who possessed me. Why do you think he wanted you gone so badly?”

The boy stared at him, so still that Vlad wondered if he still had to breathe in his ghost form.

“You… called me Danny,” he finally said, quietly.

Vlad resisted the urge to throw his hands in the air. “Yes,” he snapped, then stamped down his anger as well. He could be angry later, when Plasmius was gone for good.

“Yes,” he repeated, more calmly. “I’ve been referring to you as Danny the whole time, since you’ve said that that was your name. I… I have had a lot of time to think. To realize the mistakes I’ve made in my life.” To repent, he thought, but didn’t say. To realize that he’d been so terrible that no one saw the difference between him and Plasmius.

“I… I don’t know if you can live without your ghost half,” Danny said, eventually, reluctantly. “If you’ve been half-ghost for twenty years, like Plasmius always said…”

“I don’t care. If I die… so be it.” Vlad ran a hand through his hair, startled to find it tied back into a ponytail. At least Plasmius had kept their hair long, he supposed. “He has been puppeteering my body for twenty years, Danny. The only things I knew for twenty years were his thoughts, and his thoughts only. I had no control, could only make suggestions, and he’s been getting harder and harder to influence as time moved on.”

“That’s why he always held back.” Danny’s eyes grew wide. “I wondered about that. Why you—he, whatever—never used the full power of twenty years of experience. You held him back.”

Vlad nodded. “I wanted you to figure out his weaknesses. To grow strong enough to… to put an end to it.”

“You wanted me to kill you. Both of you,” Danny realized, his voice dropping.

“It would’ve been a bad thing to put on you,” Vlad agreed. “But the alternative would’ve been worse. Plasmius… he couldn’t be stopped. For twenty years, I derailed him into focusing on wealth, on acquiring power, but he finally set himself on his original goals. He would’ve killed Jack, would’ve found a way, no matter how despicable, to make Maddie his own. When he found you, a real half-ghost, he added your destruction to your list. And once he had achieved all those goals?” Vlad scoffed. “It would’ve been awful. Plasmius has no compassion, no caring.”

“So you wanted me to kill you? To put blood on the hands of a fourteen year old?”

“Better to hurt one teenager than to kill dozens. Or more, perhaps.” Vlad shook his head. “Even if it was the wrong thing to do, it doesn’t matter anymore. You’ve found a solution to split him off without shedding any blood. Now we just need to destroy him, permanently.”

Danny’s hands tightened around the tube-like device. “I— I can’t. I’m not gonna kill some ghost just based on— I can’t just kill some ghost.”

“Then give me some kind of invention from your parents and I’ll do it myself.” Vlad drew back his shoulders. “He needs to be gone, Danny. I’ve lost twenty years of my life to him. He has hurt countless people, and would hurt far more. Will hurt many more, if you let him out.”

The boy shook his head. “I can’t let that happen. He can stay in the Thermos.”

“Sooner or later he’ll break out of that,” Vlad insisted. He couldn’t… couldn’t risk that. Never again. “Or someone will release him.”

“I’ll bury it.” Danny met Vlad’s gaze. Stubborn to no end. Not very surprising, Vlad supposed, knowing the boy’s parents. Both Jack and Maddie were not known for giving up.

“It’ll get dug up.” Vlad stared at Danny, tried to will him into understanding. “Danny. I know you don’t like this. It’s a cruel thing to ask of a boy your age. To ask of anyone, really. Give me the… the Thermos, and your parents and I can take care of it. They’re still ghost hunters, aren’t they?”

“I…” He bit his lip, looking down at the Thermos in his hands. “I… I don’t think that that’s a good idea. They think that all ghosts are like that. This will just be— be proof that I don’t want them to have. They’ll think that all half-ghosts are like that.”

“That I’m like that” went unsaid, but Vlad heard it anyway.

“They don’t have to know that Plasmius possessed me all this time,” Vlad insisted. He needed the ghost destroyed. It had to happen, no matter what. “I just need him gone, Danny. I need to know that he will never hurt anyone ever again.”

“I just… I can’t let that happen.” Danny shook his head, slowly moving his arm until the Thermos clipped onto his belt. “He’ll add to my parents’ proof of how bad ghosts are, and even if I let you three deal with him… What’s stopping him from just possessing you again? Or one of my parents?”

Danny shook his head again, the movement sharper, jerkier. “I… I’ve dealt with bad ghosts like him before. That one, I left locked in a Thermos at Clockwork’s tower. I’ll do that with Plasmius too.”

“In the Ghost Zone?” It was not ideal, but… the Thermos would not decay in the Zone, and no ghost would be crazy enough to mess with such a device. And even if Plasmius broke out, it would take forever for him to get back.

“Yeah. Is that a good compromise?”

Vlad nodded, reluctantly. “As good as we’ll get, I think.” He paused, looking around the lab. “Excuse me for asking another thing of you, Danny, but… I’m afraid that I have no explanation for your parents as to why I’m in their lab.”

“Right, yeah.” He shot Vlad a suspicious look. “This isn’t a plot to steal the Thermos from me, is it?”

“I promise to you, it is not.” He placed a hand against his chest and realized, belatedly, that he was wearing a suit. Since when did he wear suits? What was Plasmius thinking? “Bind my hands if you must.”

“Alright, no need to go so far.” Danny rolled his eyes, walking closer to Vlad. “If I get you to the street, will you manage from there?”

Vlad patted his pocket, feeling a hard shape. He took it out to reveal…

“You have a phone, good.” Danny nodded. “You can call for a cab and take your private plane back to Wisconsin, or however you got here. How did you get here?”

“Bold of you to presume I know.” Vlad sighed, placing the phone back into his pocket. “I might just… take a walk, first. It has been a long time since I could.”

Danny threw him a heavy look. “Yeah. Of course. I won’t stop you.”

“And I…” Vlad paused. “I would like to reacquaint myself with your parents. I know that, between my behavior in my youth, and Plasmius’ behavior in more recent times, I don’t deserve that, but… I have learned my lesson a long time ago.”

This, Danny needed time to process. “You’re… not after my mom anymore?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Vlad assured him. “When Plasmius sent out the invites, I caught wind of their marriage. I was… very glad. It was wrong of me to ever continue to pursue Maddie, when she clearly had no interest in me.”

“Then you’re welcome back, I guess.” Danny reached for him, and Vlad let him. Let the boy wrap his cool hands around Vlad’s arms. “I’ll let Jazz know not to get too harsh on you, but I can’t do anything for my mom.”

“Ah. Yes, a Maddie scorned is a Maddie to fear.” Vlad nodded understandingly. “Jack… Jack, I am sorry to say, I never appreciated as I should’ve. I would be glad to accept his offer of friendship this time around.”

Danny lifted him with ease, like gravity suddenly stopped having an effect on Vlad. “Yes, I… I am sure that Dad would love that. And if you try, Mom will see that, too. It’ll be…”

“I’ll do my best,” Vlad promised, after Danny had remained silent.

The boy nodded, then lifted up further. Phased them straight through the ceiling, which led them into the upstairs living room, and then through the wall. Carried Vlad a little further, until they were out of sight from the house.

“I’ll let you wander around first, then.” Danny put him down, surprisingly gently. “Come by whenever you’re ready, Vladdie.”

Vlad smiled back at Danny, feeling something warm and hopeful bloom in his chest. “I will, my boy. And… thank you. For your help with all this. For allowing me to finally be my own person, away from Plasmius. I didn’t— didn’t think it would ever happen.”

“Glad to be of service, then.” Danny bowed, deep, but rose with a smile on his face. “I’ll get this Thermos hidden away somewhere where no one will find it for the next eternity. Have a nice day, Vlad!”

“Yes, you too, Danny Phantom.” Vlad felt the corner of his mouth twitch up. Danny waved, then promptly disappeared from sight.

Vlad waited for another moment. Felt the mild wind breeze past him, tug on his long hair and his suit jacket.

It was good to be alive.

[anomander-dragnipurake]

Possessed Part 2 Chapter Two: Stuck

Just a heads up content warning for ‘attempted murder that looks like attempted suicide’.  It's pretty graphic, definitely the most graphic thing I've written in years, so if you'd prefer not to read it, read up until King Boo says 'Actually, maybe I don’t need a painting of you after all.’ and then skip to the 'Two weeks later' break.

We should go to E. Gadd. Luigi finally suggested.

‘No, absolutely not!’ King Boo would rather do almost anything else.

Even stay stuck like this? It had been well over an hour since they’d found out about their predicament and all King Boo had done was pace around in his bedroom – if it could be called that when it didn’t have an actual bed – and occasionally try to free himself from Luigi’s body. Failing every time and causing nothing but pain and discomfort for both of them.

‘I’ll figure something out.’ What though? He’d never possessed a living being before. He hadn’t known it was possible to get stuck in them, if he had he probably wouldn’t have attempted it. … Luigi would’ve far preferred that.

What else can you try? E. Gadd’s an expert on ghost stuff, I’m sure he can find a way to fix it. And if that’s how the problem got solved then Luigi would be… No, he shouldn’t think about it because then King Boo would know the thought too. … It was too late though, wasn’t it?

‘Yep. I’m not giving you up yet. I’ll find a way to fix this and then… Actually, maybe I don’t need a painting of you after all.’ Even before completing the thought, King Boo reached into his suit pocket to pull out a butterfly knife he’d stolen from someone the other day because he’d wanted to ‘play with it’. The most surefire way to free a soul from a living body was to kill the body.

He flipped it open and… Out of sheer desperation and fear Luigi somehow managed to stop it a few inches away from his neck. That was all he could do though. His hand shook as he held it there, pointed at his throat, straining against King Boo’s control.

King Boo growled out loud and internally. Luigi was leeching off his magic to fight his will; how dare he? … Luigi had no idea how he was doing it, nor did he really care right now, he was much more concerned with not dying.

‘You’re going to die whether you like it not!’ King Boo started pushing harder, pushing his will against Luigi’s.

Luigi managed to hold it there for several seconds but… King Boo was strong and determined and…

‘You’re pathetic! You know you can’t win so stop trying!’ It was King Boo’s voice but it was the kind of thing his anxiety would say to him because well, it was true. There was no way he could win this battle when it took everything, he had to just hold the knife still.

He whimpered internally as the knife inched closer. King Boo’s rage at Luigi being able to fight him even this much and leeching off his magic to do it radiated from him in a way that felt almost physical, heightening Luigi’s fear and distress. … Maybe if Luigi could move his other hand over to help push the knife down… Nope, trying just gave King Boo more leverage to overpower him.

His will broke as soon as the knife touched his flesh; he’d never been very strong. Hot blood gushed around his hand as King Boo pressed the knife in as deep as it would go, going for the jugular because even he knew that was a weak point for the living.

It hurt unbearably so but not with the all-consuming pain he’d have imagined a fatal blow to be. It quickly grew so much worse though as King Boo started dragging it across his neck. It was sharp but apparently not sharp enough; it met a fair bit of resistance that King Boo had to force it through before reaching the other side and finally pulling it out.

‘That should do it.’ Even in his own head, King Boo’s voice sounded distant behind the pain and the blood gushing from his throat as he struggled to breath. His body barely even reacted though; King Boo was in control and he wasn’t going whine about a little bit of pain even if it was bad enough now to make him uncomfortable too.

Blessed blackness ate at Luigi’s vision. He welcomed it but… King Boo didn’t. Pulling on his magic enough to make crown glow brighter, he pushed it away because… he wanted Luigi to suffer for fighting him and leeching off his magic and because being stuck in his body for any length of time was rage inducing. … Luigi could only whimper at that and at the sight of his front as King Boo looked down. There was an awful lot of blood soaking into the once white suit, some of it leaked down his throat too; hot and uncomfortable, drowning him.

Please… please… just… make it stop… please.

‘No. I’m going to tell Mario about this next time I see him. I want a good story to share since I won’t have my painting.’ And he was curious about how long it would take for Luigi to die and what it would feel like for him when it happened.

That was even worse. Please… No amount of begging would get him anywhere though so with the last bit of willpower he had left, he made himself stop; he didn’t want to give King Boo any more satisfaction.

 -

The next… however long was absolute torture. Effected by the body’s weakness as blood poured out of it, King Boo did soon end up lying down on the couch.

All Luigi could do was moan and whimper internally as overtime his entire body grew numb and cold, adding to his discomfort and misery. It wasn’t dignified, he’d rather go out in stubborn defiant silence but that was far too much to ask from himself. Instead he found what small comfort he could in the fact that it annoyed King Boo.

But despite how annoying he found it, King Boo didn’t complain as his rage faded over time. He didn’t even say anything; he could let Luigi have his misery while he was dying. It was a shame but nothing else could be done, better him dead than King Boo trapped forever in his meat suit.

Except… death never came for him. What had to have been hours passed and yet Luigi was still alive and King Boo was still trapped in his body. He even actively tried to escape again, several times, all to no avail. Even using his magic to manually repress Luigi’s erratic off rhythm heartbeat did nothing, it just restarted as soon as he let go of that magic.

‘You don’t seem to be dying,’ King Boo finally broke the silence. ‘I’m not even sure you’re losing blood anymore.’ A lot of blood had soaked into his clothing and the couch beneath him, filling the air with an unpleasant coppery smell. How was it possible for someone to lose that much blood and still be alive, let alone conscious? He wasn’t even really breathing anymore, how was he still alive?

Unable to form a coherent proper reply, Luigi whimpered again. He still felt like he was dying but didn’t seem to be. Why? Probably something to do with King Boo possessing him, right?

‘Yeah, probably. It’s not something I have control of though because I would really prefer you die already.’

Luigi wasn’t in total disagreement. He wanted this torment be over, if that meant death then so be it. But as in all things in his life now, he didn’t have a say in it.

King Bow scowled. ‘We’ll have to figure something else out then.’

Two weeks later

From the car, King Boo glared at E. Gadd’s lab. He really didn’t want to go to him of all people for help but he was the only ghost expert either of them knew of. King Boo had tried to find another one but failed at every turn. He’d even tried killing Luigi a few more ways, none succeeding.

Just go in already. Luigi was tired and frustrated and just wanted this to be over with. He wasn’t even sure if any of the anger he felt was truly his own or if it all came from King Boo. It seemed to get harder to fully separate their emotions with each passing day. It was scary and made them both increasingly desperate to be free of each other.

‘We could try jumping into a pool of lava.’ … What if that destroyed him too though? It would certainly destroy his crown; it helped him channel and even amplified his power a little so he’d prefer not to surrender it unless he absolutely had to. So… E. Gadd it was. His anger about that warred with Luigi’s hope for rescue.

With a disgusted half growl half gag, King Boo exited the car at last. Scowling, he slammed the door shut before starting up the driveway, crossing his arms.

Can I…

‘Yeah, fine, whatever, you can talk to him. I don’t fucking care.’ And he’d rather not ask one of his arch nemeses for help anyway.

Luigi wanted to be fully happy about that but King Boo’s grumpiness made it hard. On the bright side though, said grumpiness was dampened by his feelings. King Boo wasn’t completely in control of this situation anymore.

He rang the doorbell this time. When no one answered after several seconds, King Boo pressed it again. Still nothing though so… King Boo started spamming it. If E. Gadd didn’t answer the door soon, he was going to…

Loud barking came from the other side followed by E. Gadd’s muffled voice shouting, “I’m coming, I’m coming, hold on a sec.”

King Boo would’ve kept ringing the bell out of spite but Luigi asserted a bit of his will and made him stop, pulling his had back to clinch in a fist at his side. Whatever was going on between them allowed Luigi to access some of King Boo’s magic as he’d discovered two weeks earlier and it had only gotten easier to do since then. Which of course made King Boo mad but there was nothing he do about it so he could suck it up.

‘My will’s stronger though. So if it came to a fight for control, I’d win every time.’

Luigi wasn’t sure about that. King Boo wasn’t fully sure of that either though; he was just trying to be intimidating. It would’ve worked a few weeks ago but not anymore, not when Luigi’s normally fragile confidence was bolstered by King Boo’s tendency to be overconfident.

Before King Boo could try to regain some intimidation, the door opened at last. E. Gadd gasped and flinched at the sight of them, before his expression settled into an angry glare. Polterpup stood at his feet, growling.

“You’re back,” E. Gadd said. His face was still a little bruised, considering how long it had to have been, that had to mean it was really bad before. “What do you want this time?”

“I-I’m so sorry professor,” Luigi said, instinctively taking control even as King Boo let him. His voice was a bit rough and it hurt to speak, the wound on his throat was rapidly healing but it was still there. He didn’t care right now though, he needed to apologize.

E. Gadd’s brows’ rose as Polterpup’s growling faltered. “Luigi?”

Luigi nodded as he grasped the doorframe, sagging into it. E. Gadd jumped up and babbled incoherently for a second or two before rushing inside, gesturing for Luigi to follow.

Inside, the monitoring room was still a mess, it was least essential though so of course it would be fixed last. Luigi didn’t have time to follow E. Gadd into the lab proper to see how it was though before E. Gadd was rushing back out of it with a chair.

“Have a seat sonny, you look worn out,” E. Gadd said, particularly vibrating with excitement.

Fighting the strong desire to stay standing that came from King Boo, Luigi sat, sinking into it. He almost felt like he might tear up with exhausted relief; this was the first time he’d been in full control of his body since King Boo had initially possessed him. … If he did start crying King Boo was going to take that control away though because as long as they were stuck in the same vessel together, there would be no physical tears, they were gross.

“How did you do it?” E. Gadd asked. “How did you banish King Boo from your body?” He clarified when Luigi gave him a blank stare.

“Uh… I didn’t.”

“Oh! You wrested control from him then! I didn’t think you had it in you to best him, good job.”

“Uh… I didn’t really do that either.” ‘And couldn’t if you tried.’ Hush! “It’s more uh… he doesn’t want to talk to you so he’s letting me. I… uh… we need your help. He’s kind of stuck in my body and wants out but can’t get out on his own so… here we are.” Should he say anything about whatever their thoughts and emotions were doing? … No, no one needed to know about that unless absolutely necessary. … And Luigi didn’t want to talk about the whole attempted murder, resulting in finding out he apparently couldn’t die now thing either so that was all he was gonna mention for now.

E. Gadd’s excitement died down for a few seconds before his borderline evil scientist grin returned. “Really? I don’t think I’ve ever heard such a phenomenon. To be fair though, I don’t think many ghosts or boos possess the living, especially for so long. We’ll have to look into it. Come along!” He hopped back and dashed back towards the lab proper, clearly expecting Luigi to get up and follow him.

With a tired sigh, Luigi looked down at Polterpup who was staring up at him. “Puppy?” he said, reaching a hand out towards him in an offer for pets. Polterpup snuck closer and sniffed at it hesitantly. He apparently didn’t like whatever he smelled thought as he growled softly and backed up again. … He smelled like boos and King Boo specifically, what more did he expect? … Probably a fair point, especially considering their last interaction.

“Get in here!” E. Gadd said as he poked his head back into the room.

Holding back a groan, Luigi forced himself up and into the lab.

It was still a mess. Luigi flinched at the sight of it, trying not to feel King Boo’s pride over it. It was obviously on its way to being cleaned up and fixed but… it would take a while, most of everything was still little more than rubble.

It being such a wreck will probably make it harder for him to help us. … Oh, King Boo hadn’t considered that. That would’ve been a valid reason not to come and continue to seek other solutions. … It was too late now though. … If he couldn’t help them, King Boo would kill him after all.

No, absolutely not! Luigi wouldn’t allow it. … That battle for control might become a thing after all then.

And I’ll win. They thought at each other in perfect unison; it didn’t even feel like separate thoughts but one shared thought. … Neither of them liked it and would rather never do it again.

‘Stop thinking and feeling the same things am I.’ King Boo growled internally. ‘I want you out of my head.’ Luigi couldn’t agree with that sentiment more with the added bonus of wanting King Boo out of his body.

A loud snap right in their face pulled them both back towards the outside world.

“Look alive sonny, we got tests to run,” E. Gadd said, stepping back. “Lucky for you, one of the first things I fixed is the scanner equipment. I was modified it to keep track of where you were. I lost you for while but then but you came right back to my door. With a few more tweaks to it, I might be able to figure out what’s up with King Boo being stuck in your body.” And knowing that, hopefully be able to fix it. If he couldn’t then… that wasn’t something either of them had any desire to consider.

[sonicringbond]

Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey - Scene 27

Thank you everyone for your patience, we finally have a scene with a little action in it. I won’t keep you away from it as I know everyone has been waiting for it for a while, so please enjoy, after just a bit of opening exposition in...

    ~I really do love travelling. Especially with friends!

    ~Tee-hee~♪ Though my current friends aren’t as enthusiastic as I am. Draw has been with me for a while, but he’s always either teasing me or being too serious. I feel kind of bad for him and really hope our journey together will help him open up and have more fun. I kind of forced our new friend on him though, as well as a Ring Bond.

    ~It really surprised me that the weird little creatures we saved were fairies. The one we befriended we’ve taken to calling Mote as they don’t have any names normally. But they glow like the motes of light that Rings leave behind so it’s now a really cute name~♥ Now if only Mote was nicer to me.~

    From the back of a covered truck bed, Rosy watched Draw as he looked at the gray ocean beyond the truck. As a storm raged on and turned the ocean violent and hostile, the truck bumped along as though it was unconcerned. In the comfort of the truck, Rosy barely paid the storm any mind and spied the fairy they named Mote resting. As she smiled and waved pleasantly, the fairy took note and ducked out of sight to which Rosy puffed up her cheeks.

    ~According to Draw, the reason why Mote avoids me and won’t even stay out long enough for me to look at them is because I’m a medium and fairies don’t have the right to talk to someone chosen by the gods. I don’t really remember the adventures I went on with friends as well as I do the ones I went on alone and talked to them about, but maybe I’ve met some. I don’t remember. But it’s not the first time I’ve been called a medium either. A friend back home once did and Ix also called me a medium. Is it really so special being able to maybe talk with gods using my tarot cards?

    ~Well, I’m sticking to talking to spirits today!~

    Not giving up on making friends with Mote, Rosy skipped over to the back of the truck and leaned out as well. The rain immediately slicked her quills, and salt water just as likely sprayed her as the ocean smashed tumultuously against the rocky and jagged coast. In the distance among one particularly rocky outgrowth, an old stone brick castle could be seen rising up and reaching towards the sky with its numerous towers.

    ~After Draw, Mote, and me started traveling together, my goal has been tracking down Sonic so we can get him to help Mote save all their friends from whoever it is who is capturing them and shoving them into those awful autogolems. Unfortunately, Mote doesn’t know who it is and finding Sonic isn’t easy either, but fortunately I have a record of being good at finding him. Mote is also a Ring Fairy supposedly, so that inspired me to try also tracking down another Red Star Ring. Trusting my cards is fine, but we also need one to hopefully get back home. And I’m sure just like me, Sonic is looking for one too as well all our friends.

    ~And that brings me to that big castle that we’re heading for right now. Supposedly it’s haunted, but claims that if you stand in the highest tower that you can hear the wailing of the ghosts who still live in it have lured me to it. Other people argue it’s just the sounds of the ocean rising up from the whole set of ruins that extends out some ways under it. I kind of wonder if it used to be a big city above water before the ocean came in. Or maybe the ocean or the city were dropped here by a Ring Shift. It’s so hard to tell with our world.

    ~Still, as much as I hope the local ghosts can help me find Sonic, some people say that in the ancient underwater city there are tiles in the road that look like the big Red Star Ring that Sonic and I accidentally put up in the sky. But if that’s really true… Well, the ghosts will surely know!~

~|~

    “Why does every idea you come up with lead us into danger!” Draw cried out from the top of his lungs as he clung on to Rosy for dear life.

    Running as deftly as she could through the crumbling ruins she laughed and would have scratched at her cheek if she were not giving Draw a piggyback ride. “Well, everyone calls me a rascal–”

    “You call yourself a Rascal!” Draw yelled at Rosy and was nearly drowned out by a crack of thunder beyond the castle wall.

    Skipping and jumping from one crumbling wall or staircase to the next and down the occasional hall, Rosy attempted her best to outrun the ghosts that were anything but friendly. Barely more than what resembled a sheet draped over a ball, the ghosts were possessed of terrifying eyes of darkness and had long curved horns growing from their foreheads. Rosy had already encountered the receiving end of the horns once and lost most of her Rings. Attacking the ghosts did no good either as they simply dispersed and reformed. As a result, Rosy chose to flee.

    “Well, getting into trouble is part of adventuring too.”

    “Do all of your friends get into trouble like this!”

    “Maybe…?”

    “You’re going to get me killed, aren’t you?”

    “Don’t talk like that Draw,” Rosy tried to cheer up her koala companion, but as she ran out past a broken wall and into the storm, the slick brick floor stole her traction from her, and she slipped and slid about uncontrollably.

    “WOAH~!”

    The two screamed out together and Rosy desperately tried to press her feet into the ground beneath her, but all she managed to do was provide herself more surface to slip on. Her red ballet flat like shoes were not well suited to running as it was, though Rosy made do as she called them cute. She was getting fairly decent running with them on reasonably dry terrain and some grass, but here in the old castle they proved disastrous.

    With yet another slip from an attempted step, Rosy slid down into involuntarily performing a full leg split and continued to slide with even less control than before. Trying to bring her legs back under her merely made her spin and she and Draw crashed into a wall and tumbled right over the parapets.

    “Ow~,” Rosy laughed as much as complained as she held her head and looked up into the violent storm clouds above. A bolt of lightning tore through them and a tremendous crack of thunder shook Rosy and the castle through. “Hee-hee. It’s a good thing Tails isn’t here. He’d be too terrified to move. But then the ghosts would get him.”

    “If you didn’t first,” Draw argued as he walked over and looked down at Rosy. “Besides, it looks like the ghosts won’t come outside.”

    “Really? Rosy questioned as she sat up and extracted herself from the mud she was sinking into. Using the pouring rain to clean herself off, Rosy looked around noticed that they really were not being chased anymore. “Wow! In that case we should probably find a way to get to the tallest tower before the sun goes down.”

    “You really still want to go up there. It looks like it’s covered so these ghosts will probably be waiting for us.”

    “Well, I’m still hoping to meet a nice ghost who can point us to the Red Star Ring or even Sonic.”

    “You are so weird you weirdo girl!”

    “Hee-hee! Don’t be like that Draw. It’ll be fun! Promise!”

    ~Draw of course was fussy about it, though that could have also been due to his coat being soaking wet. It’s funny he how called me strange for wearing a leotard in the snow, but he’s been wearing that fur coat ever since I met him. I wonder if it’s that cozy.

    ~At the least, Draw’s coat was definitely cozier than the castle’s highest tower. But that didn’t make the tower less amazing. Though it was mostly exposed to the elements and the roof seemed to stay up as though it were magic, the view of the city under the waves was breathtaking. Also sad in a way. This once massive city now rested beneath the ocean with only the castle full of ghosts to show where the city was now. But if the rumors were true, and Draw and I could definitely hear something up there in that old rickety tower, then there were ghosts who still talked and likely lived down in the city. I just needed to get in touch with them. To do that with the shape the tower was in I was going to have to use up a lot of Rings to protect my tarot cards from the rain. But it would be worth it. I came up here hoping to find a clue to where Sonic was and maybe snag a Red Star Ring too! It was just a matter of following my destiny as it unfolded!~

Scene 27 · CLEARED A Tide of Ghosts, to be continued

-----

And there we have it, quite a bit of action, and Rosy having a fair bit of clumsiness while it’s going on. I really hope everyone enjoyed and is looking forward to the next scene. It’s my personal favorite so far and has plenty of action as well. Please look forward to it, and thank you so much!

-----

Special Thanks to Cutegirlmayra Story by @JoshTarwater/SonicFanJ Inspiring Song – What Makes the Sky Blue – Tsutomu Narita – Granblue fantasy Original Soundtrack: Promise

Fair Use Disclaimer

Sonic the Hedgehog and all affiliated characters and logos are the express property and Copyright© of SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS used without permission under Title 17 U.S.C Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976 in which allowance is made for “fair use” for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. “Fair use” is use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be considered copyright infringement. The Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey alternate universe (AU) consumer written work of fiction is a non-profit transformative work primarily for personal use and can and will be taken down without warning or prior notice at the request of the copyright holder(s) should it not be recognized under “fair use”.

*Sonic Ring Bond logo created by DEE Art – twitter.com/daryliscute.

Sonic Ring Bond AU and Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey are the creation of Joshua David Tarwater/ynymbus/sonicfanj/@Joshtarwater and is to be, including all contents herein considered for all legal purposes the property of the Sonic the Hedgehog intellectual property (IP) and copyright owners, SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS. All story contributors via prompt, suggestion, written scene, art, and all and every other contribution acknowledge that all contributed material is forfeit for legal purposes to SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS upon official request from SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS.

[kriffani]

Second Chances (Chapter Two)

Five years later, Theo is thriving as his Jedi training progresses, exceeding all expectations set for him. When the fate of a revolutionary civil rights bill is to be decided, tensions rise a little too high in the Senate. Several Jedi are ordered to assume escort duties in an attempt to ensure the safety of those under threat of assassination. 

warnings: mentions of death, hints to transphobia

word count: 1.9k

chapter one

taglist: @acomplicatedprofession

“It’s a nightmare. This bill could change everything!” Mace groaned. 

“Unfortunate, it is. Care, not enough Senators do.” 

“Then why are they continually voted in? How do those blasted parasites stay in office?” 

“I agree with your sentiments, Mace. Which is why the bill must pass. Access to public healthcare is far too limited in it’s current state.” Plo paused, apprehension straightening him in his chair. “Though I do admit, I possess a personal bias in regard to my apprentice.”

“In that respect, I think we all feel the same, Master Plo. Theo is growing up to be a wonderful young man.” Adi Gallia’s remark produced numerous murmurs of agreement from around the Council Chamber. 

“Yes, he is. I’m very proud of him.” Plo relaxed, relieved that the others felt as strongly as he did.

“As you should be, Plo. Regrettably, we must shift the topic slightly. Multiple death threats have been sent to members of the Senate. All of which are very public advocates for the bill, two of them being the ones who introduced it: Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan, and Senator Padme Amidala of Naboo.” Ki-Adi Mundi explained. 

“Have either of them requested our assistance?” Mace leaned forward.

“No, but the Chancellor himself requested that we offer to guard and escort them here from their respective home planets in time for the vote.”

“Then do so, we must. For people like Theo, much at stake, there is.”

“I will take Theo to Alderaan. This mission will be good for him.” Plo offered.

“Mm. Agree, I do. Go to Naboo, to Senator Amidala, I will. Adjourned, this meeting is.” Yoda tapped his staff against the floor in finality.

------

“I don’t know what to do anymore, my premonitions keep getting worse,” Theo frowned, “they feel more...real.” 

“Your premonitions?” Anakin echoed. Golden sunlight poured into the Temple hall, making the already-sacred building look even more ethereal. Soft beams bestowed illusive halos onto the two Padawans as they approached one of the windows. Theo rested his arms on the sill and closed his eyes for a moment, basking in the sun’s warmth.

“Yeah. If I focus while I’m dreaming it’s pretty much like I’m there.” He leaned back, chewing the inside of his cheek, “I feel everything as if it were happening to me. I can hear voices more distinctly, but I can’t place them.”

“Can you tell what’s happening to them? Or where they are?”

“No.” 

“Have you told Master Plo?”

“No...” Theo looked down, guilt tugging at his heart. 

“Why not? He’s one of the most powerful Jedi in the Order!” Anakin scoffed, “If anyone can help you, it’s him.”

“I know that, but what if I’m seeing these things because they’re going to be my fault? What if the rest of the Council finds out and they banish me?” Theo’s knuckles turned white as he clenched the sleeves of his robes. “Whoever they are, I feel their deaths, Anakin.” He turned his eyes back up towards the city. Windows lit up one by one across the skyline as the sun kissed the horizon.

“That won’t happen.” Anakin clenched his jaw. Faith. One of the many things Theo decided that he liked about Obi-Wan’s apprentice. Anakin Skywalker had unwavering faith in his friends. A strength, and a weakness. The duality of man.

“I hope you’re right.” He sighed, resting his chin on his forearms. 

“I am, I can feel it.” Anakin gently elbowed Theo’s rib cage, earning him a tender smile.

“Thank you.” Almost halfway down, the sun’s rays painted the sky scarlet and orange and illuminated the hall in a stronger, more fiery glow. Speeders began switching into night mode, becoming luminous streaks of red and white. Theo almost thought it was beautiful. But that would be a little too ironic. It was nearly five whole years ago he had been an orphan living hand to mouth with his Mandalorian comrade. Now, he was housed and taught at the Jedi Temple. Now, he was the cherished apprentice of Plo Koon, one of the Order’s most esteemed Jedi Masters. What if this isn’t what I’m meant for? What if I don’t belong here? What if I’m a failure? Theo quickly pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. There is no emotion, there is peace. Fear and doubt were not becoming of a Jedi, and certainly weren’t endorsed by the Code. A pleasant tingling sensation crept up the base of his skull. Oh! He jolted, standing up taller as he whipped around to greet the all-too familiar presence. “Master!”

“Koh-to-ya, little Theo, Skywalker,” Master Plo cheerfully greeted them. “Padawan, tomorrow we have a mission. There have been threats concerning the life of Senator Organa of Alderaan. It will be our job to escort him back to Coruscant in time to vote on the Galactic Rights Bill.” 

“Very well, Master!” Theo was elated. It had been over a month since he had left the Temple, and it took every iota of his self-control not to cheer in victory.

“Whoa, whoa, wait a second, should you even be going on missions? You’re recovering from surgery!” Anakin pointed an accusatory finger at Theo, who recoiled in mock offense.

“Excuse you but I was cleared for low-risk missions by the surgeon this morning, it’s been four and a half weeks, and I’ve kept up with the bacta treatments. I just have to be careful!” Theo gingerly patted his chest. “Besides, I’m sure my Master wouldn’t take me along if he thought I was at risk.” 

“Indeed, young one. Skywalker, your concern for my apprentice is appreciated, yet perhaps it is misplaced here.” Plo placed his hand on Theo’s shoulder.

“Apologies, Master Plo. I didn’t mean to suggest that you would purposefully put him in danger.” Anakin cringed, he had just made a grave mistake. Had the Temple gotten warmer? Or was he simply wearing one layer too many? 

“Hm...I wonder, do you question Master Kenobi’s intentions like this?” Amusement seeped its way into Plo’s voice, and Anakin was too nervous to sense it.

“N-no, Master!”

“Then why would you assume mine to be of any difference?”

“I don’t! I promise! I was just worried about Theo’s recovery, it had nothing to do with your choices as his Master.” Anakin desperately wanted to disappear into the floor.

“My choices? Do you have any suggestions for me on how to train my padawan, Skywalker? Do you believe I am incompetent?” 

“That’s not it, I-”

“Master, please. Leave Anakin alone.” Theo chastised. “He’s kidding, Anakin.”

“Oh! I see...” Anakin’s cheeks burned as he forced a laugh.

“Please forgive me Skywalker, that wasn’t very kind of me,” Plo chuckled, “I truly do admire your care for little Theo’s safety, however, may I offer you some guidance?”

“Of course Master Plo.” 

“Your desire to protect others is very strong, and you should trust your instincts,” Plo’s voice dropped, “but be careful not to let them control you.”

“Thank you. I will keep this in mind.” Anakin reminded himself to breathe.

“Theo, we are scheduled to leave at 0530, so please be ready and in the hangar by 0500.” Plo gave a final pat to his padawan’s shoulder before leaving as silently as he had arrived.

“I should pack, early morning and all. I’ll see you later, Anakin!” Theo practically bounced down the hall, leaving his flabbergasted friend to shout a farewell in his wake. The Galactic Rights Bill...What was that again? Theo mumbled to himself as he walked. Galactic Rights Bill...Galactic Rights Bill...I’ll ask Master Plo tomorrow. By the time he reached his quarters, the sun had completely set, leaving only the dim lamps that lined the ceiling to light the dormitory hall. The door hadn’t quite finished opening when Theo zoomed inside, nearly tripping over himself. He closed the door behind him and stood for a moment, before switching on the lights. The padawan raked his hands through his hair, attempting to recall what task had caused him to enter his room in such urgency. I needed...to pack! He reached for his pack before pausing again. Actually, no. I don’t need a lot. It’s not a long mission. Theo sighed, and collapsed onto his futon. He reached up to his neck, fingers ghosting over his braid before pinching the necklace beneath his robes to pull it out. His thumb brushed across the surface of the pendant as he allowed himself a moment to reflect. To feel. The Mythosaur skull stared back, empty, and taunting. He frowned. Jango. What would Jango think of him now? Would he be proud? Resentful? Would Jango have missed him at all? That was a stupid question. Of course he would’ve. Jango was a good man. Kind, stubborn, brave, and honest. Theo snorted. Most of the time he was honest. Rather than continuing to wallow in his grief he tucked it and the pendant out of sight. Theo closed his eyes. There is no emotion, there is peace.

------

“Can we get jelly-buns?” 

“No. Too much sugar.” Sunlight glinted off of shining beskar as the odd pair walked through the bustling market.

“Please, Jango?” Theo stretched out the ‘e’ sound, gazing up at the bounty hunter with impeccably fabricated innocence.

“We have food on the ship.” Immediate dissatisfaction. The boy scrunched his nose in disgust.

“I don’t wanna eat ration bars, they’re so dry.” 

“Fine. We’ll get a few on our way back to the ship.” Jango huffed, a small smile forming underneath his helmet. “Is there anything else you need before we leave? We won’t be stopping until we get back to the Core Worlds.”

“Nope! Just the jelly-buns.” Theo chirped. He planted his hands on the ground and launched himself into a mostly smooth cartwheel. His balance was off at the last second, making him stumble upon landing.

“Impressive, you’re getting better at those.” Jango mused. 

“Thanks. I’m still not as good as that lady we met yesterday though.” Theo launched himself into a second one.

“Aurra or Zam?” The Mandalorian allowed himself to get lost in thought as Theo made a better, near-perfect landing.

“Zam. Aurra’s the scary one.”

“Mm.” Jango slipped over to a stand to pick up a box of the coveted round pastries. He placed a handful of credits on the counter, and waved away the pirate’s offer of change.

“We don’t ever have to see Aurra again do we?”

“Not often. Only when the situation calls for it.” He tossed a jelly-bun to Theo, who mouthed a ‘thank you.’ The pastry was gone in less than a minute. “I have something else for you.”

“What is it?” Theo asked, bouncing on his toes in excitement.

“You’ll see, I’ll give it to you on...the ship.” Jango trailed off. Not a moment passed before he drew his blaster, the box of jelly-buns discarded and forgotten on the ground. Running towards the boy, he yelled. “Get down!” Theo didn’t have time to react as fire engulfed him and the market.

“Jango!” He was gone. “Jango!” Theo cried out again, but to no avail. All he could feel was heat, all he could see was white, and all he could hear was the roar of fire. It was over, and it was silent. But then it wasn’t. Falling, screams of betrayal, silence. Blaster shots, confusion, silence. An engine exploding, fear, silence. The glow of a lightsaber, cries of grief, silence. Anger, heartbreak, silence. All Theo felt was agony, crushing and absolute. All Theo felt was death.

He snapped upright, gasping for air. He pressed his hands to his cheeks. Theo was alive, and much to his relief, not on fire. It’s okay. It’s just the premonitions. That’s not how the job ended. We got on the ship, he gave me the necklace, we left. It’s just the premonitions. It’s just the premonitions. It’s just the premonitions...I need to tell Master Plo.