#...why did I feel like emotionally torturing an old lady?
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ToonMan #5: The Misadventures of Miss Adventure
Prompt: Not every member of the heroes Rouge's Gallery is a "bad guy."
Prompt By: ToonMan (Me)
Started Writing: 05/07/2024
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A young woman wearing an explorer’s outfit with curly red hair with a white streak tied in a ponytail hangs, tied upside-down in a giant sewer silo. Half of her face is trapped in a permanent shadow as her pearl-white eyes survey the multiple sewer tunnels.
“Helooooooo!” yells the woman. “Anybody home? Blood’s kinda rushing to my head over here!” Cackling echoes throughout the tunnels. The woman looks into the abyss below and watches as a horde of alligators begins to crawl up the silo walls. The woman turns toward the tunnel on her level, seeing a shadow on the far end.
“Ya lotta guts to be down here, missy,” a grizzly voice floods from the tunnel. “Yer either brave or foolhardy.”
“Why can’t I be a little of both?” asks the woman. The alligators laugh, as do the shadowy figure.
“What brings you down here, pray tell?” asks the grizzly figure as he slowly walks through the tunnel.
“I’m looking for a…one second,” the woman shifts around under the rope until she manages to slip a piece of paper through her binds. “I’m looking for a Captrain Scaleduggery, Mutant Pirate Lord of the Seven Sewers?”
“Woof, are ya sure ya got the right name there, lass?” asks the grizzly figure, “A dainty thing like yerself shouldn’t kahootin’ with the likes of him.”
“Oh, trust me, I’m far from dainty,” says the woman, “I’m Miss Adventure, the greatest adventurer the world has ever known.” The Alligators stop laughing as a deep growl shakes the silo. “I take it that you’ve heard of me?” A wave of water rushes into the silo as an oversized Gator man floats to the edge of the tunnel on an undersized raft. He wears an eye patch, a torn pirate coat about six sizes too small, and a metal lever for a peg leg.
“Eye, we’ve heard of ye,” says Scaleduggery, “If I had known we’d have such esteemed company, I would’a preheated me oven!” A red light emits from the bottom of the silo as the water begins to boil and rise. “Get the vegetables and broth, lads! We’re having Adventure Stew tonight!” The alligator crew cheers.
“Aw man, that sounds delicious,” says Miss Adventure, “Wish I could stay, but I’m on the clock, so—” The rope loosens, freeing Miss Adventure as she grabs onto it.
“Don’t let her escape! And someone get me flintlock!” orders Scaleduggery. The alligator crew leaps from the silo walls at Miss Adventure as she swings around on the rope, dodging and kicking away the cold-blooded combatants. One of the alligators is higher up on the rope, chewing on it.
“Oh boy,” says Miss Adventure. She frantically swings farther and faster until the rope snaps, flinging her toward a tunnel. She reaches out for the edge of the tunnel but barely misses. Only to be grabbed by another hand and pulled back up to find ToonMan waiting for her.
“Been a while,” says ToonMan. Miss Adventure gets to her feet and starts jabbing at ToonMan’s stomach, who doesn’t feel a thing.
“A while?! It’s been like years, ya paper-skinned pansy,” says Miss Adventure before hugging ToonMan.
“Pretty sure it’s just been a month,” says ToonMan, “but hey, I’m here now. What’s the job?”
“See Puffy the Alligator over there?” asks Miss Adventure as she points to Scaleduggery. “Need his leg and heads up, silos filling up with boiling sewer broth.”
“That’s it?” asks ToonMan.
-BOOM-
A cannonball flies right between the two heroes. The two look across the silo to see Scaleduggery holding a cannon under his pudgy arm.
“Ah! Ya land lubbers, lucky me aim ain’t what it used to be!” yells Scaleduggery. “Quick, load me up another one!” Miss Adventure glares at ToonMan.
“Still a world-class jinx, I see,” says Miss Adventure. Two alligators crawl into the heroes’ tunnel only to get punched out by ToonMan’s giant fist.
“Oh, don’t act like you hate the extra challenge,” says ToonMan as he leaps out of the tunnel, elongates his arm to the ceiling, grabs onto a metal grate, and swings towards Scaleduggery.
“Nu-uh, no, you don’t,” says Miss Adventure. She gets a running start and uses a rising alligator’s head as a launch pad to leap over ToonMan. He responds by catching Miss Adventure before she dives into the boiling water.
“Still a glory hound, I see,” says ToonMan.
“Glory’s all yours,” says Miss Adventure, “but the treasure, that’s all me, baby!” The two notice Scaleduggery load his cannon with one of his alligators. “You smellin’ what I’m cookin’?”
“Seeing as I can’t smell, probably not,” says ToonMan, “but I got an idea!” ToonMan winds back the arm, holding up Miss Adventure, flinging her straight up just as Scaeduggery fires his crewmate at him. ToonMan then let’s go of the grate, falling just under the flying alligator and grabbing onto its tail to pull him back across the silo.
As Miss Adventure falls back down, ToonMan stretches out his legs, kicking Miss Adventure across the silo at Scaleduggery.
“Aw muck,” says Scaleduggery. Miss Adventure kicks the oversized gator in his one good eye, knocking him over on his back. ToonMan lands in the other tunnel with the alligator crewmate, quickly knocking him out before checking on Miss Adventure. He finds her using Scaleduggery’s peg leg as a cane.
“Another ace in the hole!” says Miss Adventure.
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With a twirl of the lever, Miss Adventure inserts it into a slot and pulls it down. The two heroes look up at the “Captain Scaleduggery’s Sewer Ship Surf” carnival ride as the lights turn on and small boat carts move into a tunnel. Miss Adventure watches the ride run with a small grin as ToonMan walks up next to her.
“Looks like you’ve saved the day again, Ms. A,” says ToonMan, bumping into Miss Adventure with his shoulder.
“Couldn’t have done it without you, Tooney,” says Miss Adventure, bumping back into ToonMan. “I mean, I could’ve, but I’ll never say no to a team-up.” The two walk across the dying grass, surrounded by old booths and run-down rides.
“Gotta say, the place keeps getting better every time I swing by,” says ToonMan.
“Hey, someone’s gotta keep this place up and running,” says Miss Adventure. She claps her hands, and the rest of the theme park comes to life. Music plays, rides run and poorly made animatronics run through the motions of their carnival games. ToonMan looks around in awe.
“Wowza! You’ve really been putting in the work!” says ToonMan.
“Well, it’s like you’ve said,” Miss Adventure grabs an oversized mallet from a booth, swinging it over her shoulder. “it’s been a while!” She then slams the mallet into the ground. A test your strength game with a graveyard esthetic erupts from the ground with a loud *DING*. “Up and Adam!” ToonMan narrows his eyes, looking slightly towards the ground.
“I, uh, almost forgot,” says ToonMan, reaching into his coat pocket. He pulls out a small, wrapped box and hands it to Miss Adventure. “Happy Birthday.” Miss Adventure's eyes widen as she snatches the present from ToonMan’s hand. She tears through the wrapping, flinging the box lid to the side, finding a diamond-encrusted bracelet.
“Awww, Tooney!” says Miss Adventure, “You know the only treasures I like are in trap-filled caves and monster-filled dungeons.” She looks longer at the bracelet, noticing three letter charms that spell out “ACE.” Miss Adventure wipes her thumb across the bracelet as the shadow covering the top half of her face fades. Her vibrant orange hair fades to a pale peach, her skin begins to wrinkle, turning pale, and her overall posture worsens. “What was it Camila always said?” Miss Adventure turns around, appearing to have gone from mid-twenties to late sixties. “Free is the one word you can’t say no to.”
ToonMan walks over and gently hugs the older Miss Adventure.
“Hey, Ellie,” says ToonMan.
“Oh, ToonMan, it’s been too long,” says Ellie, returning the hug. “How are you? Did A.I.D. give you any trouble on the way in?”
“Nah, nah. They barely even noticed me,” says ToonMan. "I just wanted to stop in and check on you.”
“Aww,” says Ellie, “Are you sure I didn’t raise you?”
“Positive,” says ToonMan as he reaches for the charm bracelet. “May I?” Ellie lets ToonMan take the bracelet and put it on her wrist.
“How are my children doing these days?” asks Ellie, “I take it that this was Camila's idea?”
“She always wants you to look your best,” says ToonMan. He offers up his arm to Ellie, who interlocks it with hers as the two stroll around the amusement park. “Evan got promoted to district manager last month and got a pretty big bonus, too.”
“Oh bless,” says Ellie, “That boy deserves it. Hard worker, just like his mother!” The two continue their stroll, passing by mini-gofer golf. “How’s…Adam?”
“He’s better,” says ToonMan, “full recovery and out of the hospital, with a little help from A.I.D, and back home with Eve.”
“Eve?” asks Ellie. “I thought her name was Zarina?”
“No, Zarina’s the fiancé,” says ToonMan, “Eve’s your granddaughter.”
“Oh, Oh yes! Little Evee,” says Ellie, tightening her grip. “Oh, how could I forget that crooked grin? She gets that from her grandpa, you know. Would have had to put a girder in his mouth to fix those teeth! Oh, he’d have loved to see her!”
“Would…you like to see her?” asks ToonMan. Ellie looks up at ToonMan before looking back down and pulling away from him. “Ellie, please—”
“I can’t. There’s still so much to do, so much to fix,” says Ellie, color flowing back into her hair.
“Ellie, I promise it’ll still be here,” says ToonMan. Ellie’s posture straightens out as she starts to walk faster.
“I know it will,” says Ellie, “because I’m here.” Ellie leaps to the top of one of the tents, followed by ToonMan. “As long as I’m here, all of this will be too, and one day, I can bring lil’ Evee here and she can see—”
“She wants to see you!” says ToonMan. A young Ellie turns around to see ToonMan holding out a photo. Ellie takes it to see her three kids, their partners, and Eve at the center. “She’s tired of looking at pictures, and I know you are too.” ToonMan walks closer, putting Ellie’s hands in his. “Let me cure you. Let Miss Adventure go.” Ellie tightens her grip. Black ooze begins to flow from her hands and into ToonMan’s. Until it suddenly retracts back into Ellie, and she takes a few quick steps back.
“I’m sorry,” says Ellie, wiping her face. Miss Adventure looks at ToonMan, teary-eyed with a wide smile. “But someone needs to stop that dragon.” A bellowing roar echoes across the amusement park as a roller coaster transforms into a fire-breathing dragon. The beast rips a portal into a fantasy realm while also taking a large chunk of the track with it. ToonMan watches as Miss Adventure transforms into a knight. “What do ya say, Tooney? Up for another adventure?” ToonMan forces a smile and chuckles.
“Nah, I think You got this one covered,” says ToonMan.
“Suit yourself,” says Miss Adventure. She whistles, and one of the carousel horses transforms into a real Pegasus. Miss Adventurer hops off the tent and onto the mythical creature. “Don’t be a stranger and remember—” Miss Adventure soars off toward the portal. “—adventure waits for no one!” The portal closes the second Miss Adventure crosses into it. ToonMan sighs as he slingshots out of the park, landing right outside the front gate.
Welcome to Misadventure’s
[RETIRED]
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Traveling Amusement Park
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Woo! Two in a roo0O0oow!
Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the story!
If you have any comments, critiques, or criticisms, please don't be afraid to let me hear 'em (as long as they're constructive (or comical)). Also, if you have some spare time, check out my blog for more stories like this one.
Stay safe, drink plenty of water, and be kind to yourself and others.
ToonMan, AWAY!
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MC is Half Demon and Blah Blah Blah-
Time for the Group Retreat!
Part 1 Part 2 Lessons 1-5 Lessons 5-6 Lessons 10-12 Lessons 13-15 Part 3 Part 4
I’m quite hyped for this one, ladies, gents, and esteemed readers! For simplicity’s sake, since this is before M!MC and A!MC arrive, L!MC will go back to being referred to as just MC. Enjoy the Headcanons!
Since the previous Underground Tomb incident ended much less violently, Lucifer is now more worried than angry about MC’s rampant shennaniganery.
Like... his kid was poking holes in his totally foolproof “Your cow-uncle went to live on a farm in the human world” story. What if MC somehow got into the attic and got hurt?!
It didn’t help that they were still in this weird phase of their father/child relationship. On one hand, Lucifer obviously cares for his kid, and his kid likes him... but it’s also only been less than three months and we all know how emotionally constipated Lucifer is.
MC’s also getting REAL sus of all the secrets their dear old dad is keeping... doesn’t help that they STILL haven’t went up into the attic.
Anyhoo~ the announcement for the retreat was a barrel of laughs.
“I’m proposing, a group retreat!”
Everyone met Diavolo’s announcement with the exact same confused reaction. It’s like the entire assembly hall was doing the ‘Guy Blinking’ meme.
“A... group retreat?” Lucifer repeated slowly. “For what reason exactly, Lord Diavolo?”
The Crown Prince was giddy with excitement as he explained. “MC told me about their middle school overnight trip and it sounded like it would be quite fun!”
Simeon, Luke, MC, and Solomon were all seated next to each other in the ‘exchange student seats of less importance’. Luke leaned over and whispered a question to MC.
“Why are you so friendly with the crown prince?”
MC smirked and shrugged. “Lucifer had the Demon-Flu and couldn’t go meet with Lord Diavolo last week so I went for him. Lord Diavolo’s surprisingly bad at Connect Four but has really good luck in Snakes and Ladders.”
Luke’s jaw dropped in complete and utter shock and horror.
“We’re playing CandyLand and the Game of Life next time, want to come?” MC added.
“Play CandyLand... with him..?” Luke looked at Diavolo, who was still explaining his plan for the retreat, then looked back at MC. “I’ll only go to shield you from his corrupting influence.”
“Yeah... Corrupting...” MC had to hold back a laugh at the thought of Diavolo, who during MC’s visit lit up like a Christmas tree upon being called ‘Dia’ and believed that Mood Rings were the greatest human invention ever, being a corrupting influence.
“MC! Torture dungeon or no!?” MC was snapped out of their conversation by Mammon shouting at them from his seat.
“What?”
“Do ya think there’s a torture dungeon under the castle, or not?”
“I’m not sure,” MC turned to Diavolo. “Lord Diavolo, is there a torture dungeon under the Demon Lord’s Castle?”
There is in fact, no torture dungeon. Presumably...
Everyone packed up and headed out to the Demon Lord’s Castle!
The fabulous seven all broke several speed limits and traffic laws in order to be there early. Listen, they had to get there before Purgatory Hall, it was a matter of pride.
Besides, what’s the Royal guard going to do? Arrest six of the seven rulers of hell and a kid? Ha. No. Not when Diavolo controls their paychecks.
The rooming situation remained the same, Asmo, Simeon, and MC were roomed together, and MC got to watch Asmo get psychologically profiled by Simeon. It was truly a sight to behold.
MC was nice enough to assure Asmo that they really liked him and thought he was very sweet.
Asmo, not used to being complimented on his personality, almost started openly weeping.
So, the tour of the Demon Lord’s Castle began! Asmo got yelled at by his ex in the painting and the usual batch of idiots got sucked into the catacombs under the castle.
Lucifer wasn’t terribly sure how or if he should express his concern for MC being stuck in the labyrinth.
All these new fatherly feelings of worry are very very odd. He didn’t worry this much for Satan, mainly because Satan was usually the threat.
Even as a baby...
Lucifer found himself checking his DDD every few minutes to see if MC had texted or called from wherever the painting dragged them to, never mind that if they did text he’d hear the phone ding.
“Lucifer, don’t worry too much,” Diavolo patted Lucifer on the shoulder, a bright smile on his face. “Your brothers and MC will be perfectly fine! There’s nothing too dangerous in the catacombs that they wouldn’t be able to take care of.”
Resigning himself to the fact that MC was under the care of his last choices for babysitting, Lucifer put away his DDD. “I know they’ll be fine, but I’m not overly pleased with the situation.” He shot a glare at Helene in the portrait, who rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.
“Lucifer worrying about someone, I’m truly, genuinely shocked.” Hearing Satan’s attempt at goading him, Lucifer, flawless demon that he is, resisted the urge to throw his DDD at his brother.
“Quiet, Satan.”
————
“WHY THE FUCK IS A SNAKE DOWN HERE?!”
“ITS HENRY 1.0!”
“YEAH THAT REALLY CLEARS STUFF UP, LEVI!”
MC and Levi continued their screaming match as the group ran for dear life from a giant snake.
Yeah... nothing the brothers couldn’t handle... sure, Lord Diavolo...
They made it out of the scary catacombs... don’t worry.
Lucifer did that parent-thing where he cleaned the catacomb dust off MC’s face with a napkin.
Yay! Parenting!
Failed pillow fight attempt #1 happened that evening. Because Mammon was obsessed with being the fun-uncle and saw his brothers encroaching on his place as favourite uncle.
MC doesn’t know how to break it to him that he’ll probably always be the favourite uncle and he doesn’t have to be such a dumbass to keep his spot.
Scavenger hunt went on as canon dictates.
Asmo had his diva tantrum and stormed off, but MC also wanted to win so they didn’t go after him.
Clearly expecting someone to go beg him to come back, Asmo was very annoyed when no one went after him.
“Um, helloooo? Anyone going to comfort me~?”
“Nope.”
“Well I don’t want your comfort anyway, SOLOMON.”
It was very close, L!MC insisted their loss came from sabotage. No evidence was found but just LOOK at Satan’s face.
Time for the Formal Dance~
If you’re wondering why Luke didn’t say anything when MC was suddenly poofed into their demon form, you’re assuming that Mammon wasn’t in on the “let’s prank the chihuahua” plan.
“Mammon..? Is MC behind you?”
“Nope! Why?”
MC was able to get to the other side of the ballroom with Luke none the wiser! Hell yeah, nothing like screwing with your friend!
So it’s canon that Lucifer is like, a solid 20/10, therefore MC is ADORABLE. What I’m saying is, some of the younger demons asked them to dance.
Asmo was also being MC’s hype man, which was very nice of him. Mammon also tried to give advice on how to be cool and suave. Beel was there for moral support.
“Alright kiddo, you need to be aloof and mysterious! People love aloof and mysterious, that’s why I’m so popular.”
“Don’t listen to him, MC. He flew into a wall as a kid and it killed all his brain cells. Just be proper but not snooty, sweet but not saccharine, friendly but not annoying,”
“Ask them if they want to share some of the hors d’oeuvres.” 
“Okay, first, aloof and mysterious are the last words I would ever use to describe you, Mammon. Second, Asmo I have no clue what you’re asking me to do. Third... Beel that’s the best advice I’ve received in recent memory.”
None of that mattered anyway because MC got swarmed with dance offers.
“Well,” MC smirked and held out their hand at the demon that was bold enough to ask them to dance first. “I admire the confidence.”
The demon’s smile brightened, then dropped completely when their gaze drifted behind MC. “I uh... on second thought... I’m gonna...”
MC’s potential dance partners all quickly scattered to the snack table. The half demon growled and turned around to see their father acting like he didn’t just scare away MC’s groupies.
“Father! What was that for?!” MC huffed, Lucifer rolled his eyes and grabbed MC’s wrist and began to pull them away from the dance floor.
“You’re too young to dance.”
“That’s crazy! They looked like they were my age.” MC protested, their wings fluttering in annoyance.
“Even if they looked to be your age, MC, they’re hundreds of years older.” Lucifer said calmly.
“What about that equivalent age stuff you told me about? Like how Luke is hundreds of years old but by angel/human standards he’s technically younger than me?”
“That doesn’t matter right now.” Lucifer lightly pushed MC towards the hallway that led back to their room.
“But I want to dance with someone!” MC felt their wings involuntarily fluff up.
Lucifer turned and smiled at his dear little brat, crouching slightly to get to their level. “Not on my watch.”
MC’s face was literally this: >:0
Lucifer is out here being the dad in every comedy that involves someone bringing home their partner to meet their parents.
MC was banished to their room, they spent their time angrily reading the manga they had packed.
When Levi escaped the party slightly later MC grilled him for details of what went on after they left.
“Nothing too interesting... except... um...”
“Spit it out, Levi!”
“...lrddiavlondlucferdnced”
“I can’t understand you, stop mumbling.”
“Lord Diavolo and Lucifer danced together...”
“...”
“...”
“I MISSED THAT?!”
So yes, MC’s desire to get a picture of Lucifer sleeping stems from VENGEANCE!
How DARE their father send MC up to their room and make them miss their OTP dancing together!?
So they call up their troupe of idiots and get ready to go be menaces to society.
MC also invites along Asmo because he seemed like he could use the adventure.
And because MC couldn’t plan the prank without Asmo noticing so it was better to just implicate him as well...
“Grrr...”
MC brightened and clapped their hands. “I know that growl!”
“It’s not my stomach, I packed snacks.” MC couldn’t see this, considering the room was pitch black (it must’ve been some kind of magic because demons have excellent night vision), but Beel waved a bag of chips in the air and got to eating.
“No, I’m not talking about your stomach, Beel.” MC skipped towards the source of the growling despite Mammon and Levi’s pleas for them to stop.
Ah! There he was!
“Cerberus!” MC cooed, the three headed dog stopped growling and barked happily. “Whose a good boy? Is it you?”
Cerberus let lose a bark that would probably make anyone crap their pants, but MC giggled and kept petting him. “Yeah! You’re the good boy! You like cuddles! Yes you do! Yes you do!”
A flash of light from a camera caused MC to drop their baby talk voice and stare angrily in the direction where the light came from.
“Whoever took that picture better delete it or I’m going to feed you to the dog.”
Cerberus growled in agreement. What a good boy.
“Well, as nice as this is...” Asmo huffed. “We’ve clearly been duped because this is not Lucifer and Diavolo’s room.”
“Oh well!” MC chirped and continued to pet the three headed dog. “Look at the doggy!”
“MC, you’re crazy. Dontcha ever forget that.” Mammon whimpered as Cerberus growled at him.
So yeah, they couldn’t get out of the room, so they ended up opening up the other door and falling into the catacombs like a bunch of lemmings.
Asmo charmed Henry, and they got out of the labyrinth no problem.
Yay! No consequences! Oh no- hi Lucifer.
Lucifer gave them all the mother of all lectures. Satan showed up with the rest of the gang and brought popcorn.
Belphie wasn’t there, okay? Satan needed to be a little shit for him.
Ah yes, the pillow fight... Mammon’s crusade to be the best uncle culminated in a massive pillow fight that ended with MC, Lucifer, and Diavolo standing over everyone’s unconscious bodies.
So they uh... won the pillow fight.
MC couldn’t sleep. They legitimately couldn’t. As exhausting as the pillow fight victory had been, everyone was snoring, and MC was bleary eyed and awake at one in the morning.
They eventually sat up and looked around, Asmo was passed out in a very unflattering position, Solomon was chanting god knows what in his sleep, Levi was half hanging off Simeon’s bed, Simeon and Luke were sleeping like angels (hehehehe-), Beel was in the middle of eating his pillow in his sleep, Mammon appeared to be dreaming about winning the lottery, and Satan was... suspiciously absent.
He was there a minute ago... weird.
Deciding that this wasn’t worth it and they should just go sleep somewhere else, MC got out of bed and avoided stepping on anyone as they vacated the room.
The Demon Lord’s Castle at night could rival the House of Lamentation in terms of overall creepiness. MC had gotten used to the spirits and curses that littered their home, but they had only been to the Demon Lord’s Castle once before, so they were extra careful not to accidentally touch anything. Their stomach rumbled and they frowned.
Damn, they had the midnight munchies... they needed a snack.
MC made their way to the kitchen and on there way, noticed a peculiar room through a half open door. Taking a few steps back to peek into it, they noticed... doors. A lot of doors. And ivy covered steps. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to any of the placements, and the room was... weirdly chilly.
“You can come in if you’d like, MC.”
Barbatos’ voice nearly caused MC to hit a high note that they hadn’t been able to hit since their voice began to change. They straightened out their wrinkled pyjamas and stepped inside.
The butler himself was walking down one of the flights of stairs.
“Um...” Quickly remembering their manners, MC straightened their posture and cleared their throat. “Good evening Barbatos.”
Barbatos smiled and inclined his head in turn. “Good evening to you as well, MC.”
“How did you know it was me outside? You were up there a second ago.” MC asked.
“It’s a part of my powers. I can see possible futures, and I foresaw you passing by my room and getting curious.” Barbatos explained.
“Oh,” MC said, half nodding and continuing to look around. A the sound of a door closing out of MC’s vision made them squeak and look around for the source of the noise. “What was that?!”
“It’s nothing to be worried about.” Barbatos raised his hands in a placating gesture. “These doors in my room are gateways to different timelines and some are gateways into the past of this particular timeline. That was another version of me passing by.”
“Does this... happen often?” MC knitted their eyebrows.
Barbatos hesitated before answering. “Not really. It’s quite rare. Lord Diavolo has expressly forbidden me from using my full powers freely.”
“Ah... makes sense...”
“Now, I believe you came down for snacks?”
MC blinked in surprise. “How did you- oh... the time magic...”
“Yes, the time magic. Now, would you prefer yogurt and fruit, or apples and peanut butter?”
“Yogurt and fruit please!”
I’m sure MC’s knowledge of how Barbie’s room works will totally not come into play later. I’m sure.
Solomon and MC graced the brunch table with their cooking. I think you can guess how it would have turned out if Barbatos hadn’t intervened.
Rest In Peace to Beel’s tastebuds.
Anyway, the rest of the retreat was all fun and good.
MC may or may not have slipped up and called Diavolo ‘Dia’ in front of Lucifer. It would’ve sparked a lecture if Dia’s puppy-like excitement wasn’t so damn adorable.
Lucifer’s got a heart... somewhere... it’s probably all shrivelled up and tiny, but I’m sure it’s there.
Everyone went back home, brought closer together through... pillow fights and surviving Solomon’s cooking I guess..?
Anyway, MC got home, unpacked their stuff, watched Kakegurui with Levi and Mammon, let Asmo paint their nails, made and ate dinner with Beel, continued their piano lessons with Lucifer, and received a 100% fake smile from Satan.
It was a nice day with their new family, MC curled up in their bed and prepared to go to sleep.
“Help me!”
MC lurched upwards in their bed, whipping their head from side to side, trying to find the source of the voice. Their room was completely empty, the perks of being half demon extended to being able to see in the dark. No new smells either, they were alone in the room.
Auditory hallucinations were common before falling asleep after being sleep deprived, creepy, but not too unusual.
“MC!”
Okay- that one couldn’t be ignored. It was common knowledge that the House of Lamentation was definitely haunted in some capacity, but the ghosts never really bothered the demons living inside, MC was partly convinced that some of the ghosts didn’t even notice that the demons were there. So it couldn’t have been a ghost calling their name.
“MC! I need help!”
The voice reverberated through their head, like it was trying to hit every part of their skull to make sure it was at least felt if MC couldn’t hear it. MC massaged their scalp and got out of bed.
The House of Lamentation at night truly lived up to its haunted reputation. Cold, clammy, dark, even by demon standards. No spooky old house was going to scare MC though, they walked down the hall with their head held high.
They walked closer to walls and furniture, knowing that the floor was less likely to creak in those areas. How did they know that? Mammon had told them it worked like a charm. Well, it’d work better for him if he stopped tripping over the furniture and alerting Lucifer.
MC was much more nimble and careful, stepping slowly and lightly around the hallways until they reached the door to the attic. They reached out to clasp their hand around the doorknob, then froze. It smelled like…
Oh no.
MC leapt away from the door like it was rigged to explode if they touched it and practically dove for cover into an alcove. The all too-recent smell of Lucifer’s fancy cologne and the increasing sound of someone coming down the stairs made them clamp their hand over their mouth and crouch down.
What was their father doing up there?
He had said the attic was full of old junk and there was no reason to go up there, so why exactly did he-
The door slammed open and Lucifer stomped down the hallway back towards his room, MC presumed. They were about to let out a sigh of relief when the footsteps paused. MC felt their heart drop right into their gut when they heard the footsteps coming back in their direction.
What were they going to say to him when he found them? ‘Sorry! This isn’t where the bathrooms are!’ The last thing MC wanted was to add to their father’s ever growing list of stresses. MC was totally responsible and grown-up, their father didn’t need to worry.
MC clamped their eyes shut and tried to slow their heart rate. Demons were beings of darkness and shadow, they could blend in quite easily. They took a deep breath, cleared their head, and felt the shadows of the hallway shift and cover them like a blanket.
Lucifer’s footsteps stopped, MC heard a tired sigh, then the footsteps started up again, this time in the direction of his room.
They allowed themselves a sigh of relief before relieving themselves of their hiding space and opening the door leading to the attic staircase.
If the rest of the House of Lamentation was considered clammy, cold, and foreboding, the attic staircase was that multiplied by a factor of twelve. MC felt themselves shudder involuntarily when they stepped closer to the staircase. Every primal part of their brain was telling them to turn around and walk away, but one tiny part was holding them back. They placed their foot on the first step, waiting for any kind of resistance, nothing other than the feeling of passing through invisible cobwebs.
“MC?”
Upon hearing their name, MC craned their neck to try and get a look at what could be waiting for them at the top of the stairs.
“Are you coming, or not?”
The cascade of warning sirens that began to blare in MC’s head went ignored as they continued to scale the staircase.
When they reached the final step, they were met with a long hallway, with a single door on the right side of the wall.
“H-hello?” MC tried to instill some force into their voice, but it still ended up quavering a little.
“Down here.” Someone knocked on the wall next to the door, almost causing MC to jump.
Oh. Oh no. MC stood straight in front of the door, and when they saw who was looking back at them they nearly passed out.
“Belphegor..?”
Belphegor’s eyes flashed as he gave MC a once over. His eyes narrowed when his gaze snapped to MC’s. The analytical expression melted into a lazy grin.
“That’s me,” he said softly. “Nice to finally meet you, MC.”
#Obey me#Obey me Headcanons#Obey me!#obey me shall we date#obey me! shall we date?#Yay! MC finally meets the sleepy cow-man!#Obey me Lucifer#Obey me Satan#Obey me MC#Obey me Mammon#Obey me Levi#Obey me Diavolo#Obey me Luke#Obey me Barbatos#Obey me Dialuci#Obey me Belphegor#Obey me Simeon#Obey me Asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me! headcanons#obey me! mammon#Obey me! Lucifer#obey me! belphegor#obey me! beelzebub#obey me! leviathan#Obey me! MC#obey me! asmodeus#Obey me! Satan
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I know this happens to plenty of people. You work in fast food or retail and your just trying to make a living. Whether your saving to get out of a crappy household ASAP, no matter the job, paying for college, or any other reason and you WILL have shitty jerk customers (At my first job and first day, I was asked if I spoke English because I couldn’t understand him with the mask and there’s a glass in front of the food. Buddy, shush. Didn’t help that I’m sensitive, ended up crying the moment I got home. These jobs are ones where you learn to really respect these workers cause of the crap they go through when you have it as a job)
In this request, the boys visit MC in the human world when they have the chance. So, my request is how would the brothers and Diavolo (the limit was 8 right?) react to coming to the human world one night to visit MC and they see them just crying and just frustrated in general due to shitty asshole customers from work?
I feel it's necessary to let you know that I actually started working on this request while on my break at my retail job.
I'm sorry you had to deal with that, friend. Pour one out for the retail workers out here busting ass during a global pandemic.
Thanks for being patient with me, friend, I know I don't really have a consistent upload schedule.
-----
Lucifer: In hindsight. he could have planned this out better.
Perhaps his own pride was to blame. He had planned to surprise the human by showing up unannounced after their shift, but he had gotten so caught up in the thought of them jumping into his arms out of sheer joy that he never considered that it might not be a good time.
"Hush now, my dear," Lucifer sat down next to where they had slumped against the wall of their living room. The carpet was slightly stained and part of him wanted to recoil, but there were more important things to worry about. "Those wretches aren't worth your tears."
He brought his arm around their shoulders, tugging them against his side and letting his cloak drape over them like a blanket. They snuggled into him almost instinctively, and he couldn't help but preen a little bit.
"I know," they hiccupped, burying their face in the crook on his neck. "It's just...sometimes it's hard not to focus on it, y'know?"
Lucifer didn't, but that didn't mean he lacked sympathy. The demon placed two gloved fingers beneath their chin and tilted their head upwards.
"Then how about you focus on me instead?"
Mammon: Turns out every Realm had its Karens. Who knew?
When Mammon had first popped into the human's place and seen them face-down on the kitchen table sobbing, his initial reaction had been violence. He wanted to find whoever made his human cry and wring the reason why out of their throat. But, after the initial bloodlust subsided, he realized that he had something way more important to worry about.
He sat down on the chair next to them, taking one of their hands and gently running his thumb over the bumps of their knuckles as they choked out what had happened. Mammon had worked his fair share of part time jobs, he was no stranger to the specific torture that was retail. So hearing that his human had to go through that made his heart break a tiny bit.
Not that he would show it, of course.
"A'ight, human, the Great Mammon is here to help." he grinned, standing up. "I know just what you need."
He strode over to their kitchen like he lived there, flung open the fridge and pulled out a bottle of alcohol.
"Mammon," the human rubbed at the dried tear tracks on their cheeks. "Not that I don't appreciate it, but...how did you know where I keep my liquor?"
"Minor details, human!"
Leviathan: His first instinct was to panic.
The human was flopped face first onto their couch when Levi showed up, and his specialty had always been jumping to conclusions. He almost took himself out on their coffee table in his haste to make sure they were breathing.
And then the human almost took him out because the logical reaction to someone suddenly bursting into your home and getting right up in your face was to a) scream and b) punch.
After the comedy of errors skit was over, the two of them were sitting upright on the couch. The human looked exhausted, both emotionally and physically, as they filled him in on their day from Hell.
(Except not because their actual days in Hell were a lot better than working retail, but that was beside the point.)
"...so not only did I have to interact with people, which is already more than enough, I got screamed at because this old lady didn't like the price of something! Yes, Helen, I personally made the prices higher just to piss you off, you've figured out my master plan!"
"Ew, no, do not want." Levi winced in sympathy. "My personal remedy is playing beat-em-ups."
"Your solution to everything is video games, Levi."
"Shh, no thoughts, only Smash Brothers."
Satan: He had so many questions.
What happened? How long had the human been sitting there stewing in their own misery? Where was he going to hide the body?
Satan was a pro at suppressing rage. So even though he wanted to go rip out the vocal chords of every soccer mom with a let-me-speak-to-the-manager haircut within a five mile radius, he reigned it in enough to settle himself down on the couch next to the distraught human and rub soothing circles on their back while they tried to tell him what happened through their sobs.
"Next time, summon me and I'll kill them for you."
"I don't think corporate would appreciate me summoning a demon in the middle of a department store."
"I don't appreciate corporate telling you that you have to stand there and be verbally abused by a wrinkly old hag who couldn't figure out what the word 'expires' meant." he huffed. The human let themselves flop heavily against his side, and when he looked down at them he noticed that the corner of their mouth had twitched up in the barest hint of a smile.
"She was, like, thirty, Satan."
"She was a wrinkly old hag in spirit."
Asmodeus: "Oh, darling, what happened?"
Usually Asmo preferred to be on his knees for a different reason, but the human was refusing to look up, so kneeling in front of them was his only option to be able to see their face. He reached up to cup their cheeks, wiping away a few tears with his thumbs. "Shh, it's alright, I'm here, darling. Tell me what happened."
They sniffled, a few fresh tears spilling over when they blinked. "I-I'm sorry, Asmo, I - "
"No need to apologize, darling." he moved some of their hair behind their ear. "Just let it all out. Bottling up all of those negative emotions will make you break out."
After a few more minutes, they finally calmed down enough to recount the torture that had been their retail shift.
"Ugh, honestly," Asmo shook his head. "Hearing those kind of stories just makes you wonder. How do people get so entitled like that?"
He stood from his kneeling position, reaching down to hold their hands. "I refuse to let any of those awful people contaminate your beauty, darling. You," he let go of one of their hands to boop them affectionately on the nose. "Need a spa night."
"A spa night?"
"Mm-hm!" Asmo hummed, already on his way to the bathroom. "You let Nurse Asmo was all of those icky feelings away."
Beelzebub: They hadn't even made it fully into the living room.
When Beel stepped through the portal into the human's apartment and saw them curled into a ball near the doorway, he was immediately on high alert and checking for danger. Only after he realized that he didn't smell blood and had made sure to inspect all of the places for danger to hide did he lower his hackles.
The human was watching him through watery eyes, and Beel realized belatedly that he hadn't even greeted them. Well, bit too late for that. He crossed the living room in a few long strides and crouched down in front of them, lifting their hair out of the way to check for injuries.
Satisfied that there was no immediate danger, he scooped them up into his arms and deposited them on the couch. "Do you want to talk about it?"
They shrugged, wiping furiously at their eyes. "Just...people at work were being jerks, is all. I'm probably just being a big baby about it."
"No you aren't," Beel sat down next to them. "You're allowed to be upset if people are being hurtful."
That only brought on a fresh wave of tears, and Beel felt a little guilty. He pulled them closer until they were practically in his lap and tucked them underneath his chin like he could physically shield them from all of the awful things in the Three Realms.
"I'll make us some dinner. Everything's worse when you're hungry."
Bephegor: They started nap time without him.
Well, that's what it looked like when Belphie first popped through the portal. But, upon closer inspection, he noticed that the lump under the blankets that was the human was definitely not sleeping. Their breathing was quick and staccato, interrupted here and there by low, hiccupping whines.
They were crying.
Well that wouldn't do. Crying yourself to sleep just gave you a headache.
"Hey," he peeled back the protective layer of blanket to look at the human. Eyes red-rimmed and puffy, with a little wet spot on the pillow where their tears had landed. They sniffled, trying to shrink back into their blanket burrito, but Belphie held first. "Let me in."
He wiggled his way into the cocoon until they two of them were snuggled together, with their head against his collarbone. "Wanna tell me what happened?"
"Humans suck."
"Didn't we solve this issue already?" Belphie snickered when they pushed weakly against his chest. "Why in particular do humans suck?"
With a shuddering sigh, they recounted the events of the day. How they had been screamed at by customers, then scolded by their boss when said customers complained, then treated like actual garbage by their coworkers when the boss took their anger out on their employees.
"...Yeah, humans suck." Belphie tugged them in a little closer, burying his face in their hair. "But you've got your favorite demonic nap buddy here, so you don't have to worry about humans, okay?"
Diavolo: He felt powerless.
It was not a feeling Diavolo experienced often as the Crown Prince of the Devildom, and the few times he did experience it, he didn't like it.
If they had been in the Devildom, he would simply order whoever had made the human upset to be tortured for a decade or two - well, actually, he would have them brutally killed, revived, and then killed again, but the human was a merciful soul and likely wouldn't let him. But this was the Human Realm, where the only influence he had was the intimidation factor of his height and size. So all he could do was hold the human as they sobbed against his chest.
"This isn't fair to you," he mumbled into their hair as they sat on the couch. "You should be in the Devildom, treated like the noble you are. You shouldn't have to deal with these ingrates who think they're better because you're on the clock at that particular moment."
They whimpered softly as Diavolo murmured sweet things to them. Even if it was merely a fantasy, it was nice to think of a world where they wouldn't have to put up with all of the bullshit of retail.
Maybe one day they would take Diavolo up on his offer.
#shall we date obey me#obey me#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me levi#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me asmo#obey me beelzebub#obey me beel#obey me belphegor#obey me belphie#obey me diavolo
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did cas really tell dean to kneel before their new god? did that actually happen? i thought him beating the shit out of dean in that alley was the most unrestrainedly horny thing this show had ever done ACTUALLY you know what scratch that new question: top horny moments from the cw's supernatural (2005 - 2020)
getting this ask feels like my sins of the last week have been weighed against the Trials I Have Gone Through since the premier of supernatural on the wb in september of 2005 and I’m not sure if it is a punishment or reward
some notes before we begin:
the ep with dean’s male siren was like, conceptually horny but not actually that horny because the dude was uglie. I’m sorry to this man
all you sam girls out there. I respect you but I do not respect jared padalecki who is JUST tall and has zero sex appeal. but those eps where he’s like, drinking ruby’s blood and then eating her pussy are. you know. I’ll give you that
I am ONLY UP TO SEASON 10 so fair warning this is not comprehensive but the horniness does seem to drop off sharply after the mark of cain is no longer in play lol gotta love a good demon murder tattoo plot
this is easily the most insane thing I’ve ever done, including the destiel manifesto
S1 EP12: the scene where dean gets healed by the faith healer, on his knees with a hand in his hair and looking somewhere between religious ecstasy, brain death and an orgasm. starting this list off great
S1 EP22: azazel possessing john winchester. no I will not explain further if u know u know <3
S3 EP10: dean being taunted by a dream version of himself, this is where we first got the daddy’s blunt little instrument line. still burned in my hippocampus a good 13 years later thank yew
S4 EP1: dean crawling out of his own grave covered in grave dirt. hot. the HANDPRINT. HOT. also tangent but this reveal after the s3 finale was WILD back in 2008 I hollered in my dorm room after canvassing for obama. simpler times man
S4 EP 1: cas’ intro scene. the barn. the shadow wings. the hair??? getting stabbed in the chest by the man you just pulled out of hell. getting aaaallll up in that personal space. his little eyebrow. “you don’t think you deserve to be saved.” OUTRAGEOUSLY FLAMING
S4 EP02: “I dragged you out of hell I can throw you back in.” <<< this angel tops. mark dean down as scared and horny etc
S4 EP16: this ENTIRE EPISODE but specifically the part where dean tortures alastair as some kind of foreplay and then alastair kicks his ass. carved you into a new animal. jesus.
S4 EP16: wait I forgot about the part where cas also gets his ass kicked and looks all....hm. dazed and covered in blood while he’s on his knees and about to die. yeah.
S5 EP4: I mean this entire ep is unfairly horny considering everyone is dying of a zombie plague and hasn’t showered in like, 4 years but if I had to pick one hmmm. the dean/dean interrogation scene with the panty kink yeah I know it’s not original but hm. it happened. also misha collins just being able to convey that CAS IS A FLEXIBLE SLUT with a single roll of his shoulders. who SAYS this man can’t act!!!!!
S5 EP18: the ALLEY SCENE. DEAN DOESN’T FIGHT BACK. CAS HOLDS HIM UP OFF THE GROUND AND THEN THROWS HIM ACROSS THE ALLEY. WHY DID EVERYONE THINK CAS COULDN’T TOP. you all had brainworms.
S5 EP18: when cas locks dean in the panic room to stop him from saying yes to michael and “well cas not for nothing but the last person who looked at me like that I got laid” I hate this show. wait I think the blow me cas line is in this episode too what the fuck were they on here
S6 EP5: the scene where dean gets turned into a vampire. between the old dude who I think calls dean a pretty boy (??) and soulless sam....watching??? no ******* but there were just some absolutely foul energies in that scene and I still do not understand WHAT they were thinking
S6 EP20: cas doing a double smite on two demons by slamming them to the ground and then shoving another demon back in its vessel and then smiting him in the same motion. TOP. ENERGY.
S6 EP22: season 6 is possibly cas’ horniest season because he’s like, going through angel puberty after getting his first boner for dean, but the final cas eps are. whoof. cas eats a bunch of souls and proclaims himself to be a new god in order to handle said boner, and then the season ends with cas telling them to bow down and profess their love to him, their new lord, or he will destroy them. note: the way this is framed makes it look like cas is only staring at dean while he says this, even though sam and bobby are also there. the season ends with dramatic zooms on both cas and dean’s faces respectively. this made me actively regret ditching this show after s5 lol
S8 EP??: literally EVERY SINGLE PURGATORY FLASHBACK. cas dean and benny are all purgatory hot in the “pop 10 cranberry pills and risk the UTI” kind of way but also. dean being the hot girl bottom between two tops who hate each other. I really. whew. I need to go take a shower.
S8 EP17: if I get canceled for including the crypt scene on this list I blame you bud. but dean on his knees begging a brainwashed cas to stop killing him WAS sexy. how many times has dean been on his knees in this list wait there’s another one coming up next jsldjfsldkjf
S9 EP2: abaddon getting dean on his knees (YEAH) and pulling his hair and praising him for always coming when called HELLO???? the only thing that ruins this is dean says “I can’t tell if we’re gonna fight or make out” because this is the CW and they won’t let him say fuck
S9 EP6: ah. this entire episode is Emotionally Horny but the horny horny part is when they’re in the car and dean is telling cas to unbutton his shirt and. watches. I know this was on my destiel manifesto but I need it here too
S9 EP9: cas, covered in blood, slitting another angel’s throat and eating his grace after getting tortured. that shot alone made me understand why this website was so goddamn horny for misha collins for nearly a damn decade
S9 EP11: MARK OF CAIN BABEY. cain watching dean beat up a bunch of demons as an audition for taking on the mark, while crowley also is a fucking voyeur to the whole thing. cain is also a hot silver fox with daddy energies. I said what I said
S9 EP 16: dean getting the first blade. he’s chained to a pillar and being menaced by a foppish dandy who wants to add him to his “collection” (WOW). dean then kills him with the blade and whew. murder is sexy sometimes
S9 EP21: dean being pinned against a wall by abaddon’s power, then using the mark of cain to break her hold, calling the first blade to him psychically and then killing her. god the mark of cain is hot
S9 EP23: dean waking up with the demon eyes NUT
S10 EP2: demon dean beating up that dude with the boring backstory and kicking his ass. really was a go on baby I got your flower moment because I hated that dude and I love demon dean
S10 EP3: demon dean being chained up and taunting sam about how his brother is gone, then hunting sam through the bunker. demon dean in general was VERY fun for me, someone who loves trash
S10 EP9: dean going berserk and killing a bunch of pedophile rapists/child abusers. I’m sorry I know this show is trying to preach morality at me about monsters and unnecessary murder and humanity or whatever but we blew past that like 8 SEASONS AGO. also the mark of cain is sexy
S10 EP14: the rest of this list is really gonna be mark of cain stuff isn’t it look I’m here to have fun. cain and dean’s fight. cain continuously tossing his mane of hair back and taunting dean with the picture of what he’s going to become, who he’s going to kill. dean begging cain to tell him that he can stop, and then ultimately killing him. rip daddy.
S11 EP4: again I have not watched this however. every shot of this episode is PRESTIGE TELEVISION because driving a muscle car is sexy. and especially the shot of dean all beat to hell and begging his car to start and giving her a little kiss from his fingers to her dash. ugh. masculinity.
S12 EP10: the bearded salt-and-pepper daddy look returns, only it’s an angel this time and he’s wearing a vest and shirtsleeves and he swordfights with a hot redheaded lady in a suit and an eyepatch. this show is good sometimes!!! and oh fuck lol I just realized this is the same guy who played krissy’s hot hunter dad in s7 probably the first guy who’s hotter as an angel than a hunter. huh.
S12 EP 11: dean riding larry the mechanical bull to “broomstick cowboy.” I have no idea where this factors into the ep but I have seen. the youtube clip
S13 EP23: from what I can tell s13 is way more emotionally horny than boner horny, although dean burning cas’ body was sexy. but the horniest part was dean saying yes to michael and then michael taking over and saying “thanks for the suit.” we are going to ignore the silliest fight scene in existence as well as the final shot ending on a FREEZE FRAME like a goddamn tiktok
S14: not gonna pick a specific moment because I have not watched yet!!! but michael dean is hot. idk why michael is weirdly hot and I cannot stand any iteration of lucifer on this television programme. it should be the reverse but I’m forever an older sibling stan apparently. someone who is catholic could probably explain this better.
S15 EP13: genevieve padalecki and danneel ackles fight flirting as ruby and anael I CANNOT BELIEVE THEY HELD OUT ON THIS TILL THE LAST SEASON
I know I am missing things but this is already an absolutely incomprehensible screed. I know I’m missing shit from the latter seasons but give me time I’m pacing myself
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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.
#Danny Phantom#dp#dp fic#my fic#your heart#danny fenton#sam manson#tucker foley#jazz fenton#paulina sanchez#dp star#pemela manson#oc#amethyst ocean#danny x sam#ghost king au#ghost king! danny#witch queen au#witch queen! sam#enemies to friends to lovers
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Tis the Damn Season
Chapter 6- Last Christmas
Hi all! Sorry she took forever- I edited all by myself, so be gentle!
Plans change. Tickets do too, it seems. Harry's beautiful hope, his gift, it came in handy.
Not in the right way, the intended way. Not because she came to him, ran around the world or even an unfamiliar city with him. Those were dreamy ideas, when she wound up spending all of fall semester in Holmes Chapel. Those daydreams shaded the hospital walls and funeral home with sunny possibilities.
Her father had a heart attack and her mother a breakdown. It was too late, when her mother noticed he'd been out with the dog for too long and the dog was inside whining.
"I knew, in my gut. Day dawned wrong. And then never ended." She'd cried. Her mother had cried in her arms in a reversal Emma felt was way beyond her maturity level.
That hadnt been over the phone. Over the phone had only been muffled sobbing and her dad's name, "John."
Emma didn't call him John, but she could forgive her mother. It was up to her mother's good friend Di to share the news: Emma had always looked up to Di, she'd had some tragic marriage in her youth, and then decided god damned men weren't for her.
At the moment, Emma was of a similar mind.
Emma assumed she'd have a similar life to Di, had planned for it actually. Di had her own house, a thriving career as a solicitor and no children. A life like that, of her own, was Emma's dearest wish before she wished to be able to say yes to Harry.
Now she just wished her dad was still around.
There were so many plans to make, a funeral to finance and a mother to support, to put back together.
It's a wonder Emma wasn't an outright romantic, the way her parents had been, lifelong sweethearts. They still had moon eyes for each other until the very end, could be found holding hands on the couch often. Emma had come home unexpectedly early last year and found her mother sitting on the kitchen counter with her father between her legs making out like teenagers.
It was a lot to live up to.
Emma supposed it was why she kept all her heart eyes and love life in the closet and saved it all up to spend once a year. Just like an old lady's Christmas budget.
This year, she didn't think it would be happening. Harry must have had some rich person thing going on with the ticket, because the minute she decided that rather than ask her mom to buy her a ticket to get home, for the funeral, instead use the one she had from Harry, he'd called. There was clear excitement in his voice, hot on the heels of her phone call to the airlines. It was August. He was set to embark soon, she'd just got back to Amsterdam. He must have thought she was gonna sneak in a cheeky visit.
"You're coming?"
"What?" She was so disoriented. Coming where? What was going on? Her brain was muffled with plans her feelings kept stumbling over at the knees like a trip wire.
"To see me? I got a notification you used the ticket?"
Her brain was muddled, like an egg in a hot pan, what? How did he do that? "No, Harry, umm I'm not coming. I don't even know where you are right now." She barely knew where she was.
"Whose fault is that?" There was a tiny edge to his voice that would cut her if she could even notice. "You could have answered my calls."
"Harry," she sighed, she had been avoiding him a bit. Mostly because she had an evergreen memory of his disappointed face when she told him going on tour was too much, that she simply didn't have the time. She was glad she couldn't see his face when she said the next bit. His voice was buoyant with hope, she was about to pop that balloon. "I need the ticket to go somewhere else." She couldn't bear to say it, was biting her lip hard not to think it, the liquid memory brimming anyway.
"Yeah, ok. Well, Happy Christmas I guess. See you in four months, maybe." The bitterness in his voice was like an old lemon and she didn't even have time
to sweeten it with truth when his phone clicked off.
That made her resentful. How could this truth be sweet in any way? It got worse over time, the resentment just nestled among her other griefs.
Then he wouldn't answer her calls. She supposed that was giving her a taste of her own medicine and it was a quick wash down her throat with no water after the other jagged pill life had just forced down her throat.
And it didn't get better. Though, she had to scoff at herself for even having a square of heart for Harry to break leftover.
Break it did though, when she heard he had a new girlfriend, a blonde, a model, a French blonde model.
Of course.
Emma couldn't help but stalk her instagram. His was useless, ill used, so when she'd finished a day of running the house she'd been a child in while taking care of her grieving mother, she'd torture herself some more and watch stories where the beautiful blonde played in a pool, or made jokes, or showed the big mirror over her bed.
That one hurt most. She'd never seen Harry's bed, nor he hers. The little devil voice inside her head whisper shouted that he much preferred the one he was in now, with the mirror and the model to the tiny inn room they'd spent all their overnights in.
She didn't hear from him, and she never called to explain herself either. What would she say? My life fell apart and I needed your ticket, but it hurt to much to say it out loud and you were to much of an asshole to let me say it.
Harry wasn't an asshole, not really, he was hurt. Emma was stunned she had that power, though she had admitted to herself there was more between them than mistletoe kisses and holiday fucks.
She'd admitted it was more to her.
He acted like it was more to him, unless this was just a bruised ego. She didn't like to think that. Harry had every reason to have a giant head, figuratively to go with the oversized cranium he actually sported, but he'd never shown it. He was cocky at times, just enough to be sexy. All of that was a veneer over a sweet vulnerability that made everybody want to be around him, protect him, love him.
Did she love him?
No, she didn't think so, but given more time, the potential was there, like a rock at the top of a hill, all it would take was a push.
Which, time on tour with him would have been. If she could have went. Which she couldn't. She wanted to explain all of this to him as soon as she has the chance- which she would in 6 hours.
Her promises to herself were that she would not cry and that she would accept his new relationship. His real relationship. Emma would not try to touch him, or kiss him, or confess her almost love to him.
He was probably in love himself, from her internet stalks, she was halfway there, with both of them. Harry edged it out by being perfect in person. Camille, that was frenchies name, could only be half as perfect as Emma made her in her head.
"Do I wear the sweater?" She asked her reflection. She'd had to become her best friend the last six months. Emma might have called her mom her best friend, just based on time spent together, if their relationship was reciprocal, but at this turn of the road, she was supporting her mom as she grieved and got back to herself. Emma could see glimmers. She had hope.
She however wasn't sure she had hope for herself. Was she really contemplating wearing the sweater Harry gave her last Christmas to his mother's Christmas party? How pathetic was that? She was rolling her eyes at herself. He'd had a big year, and he bought lots of gifts, probably for his new girl, so her thinking he'd remember felt narcissistic.
Plus, it was her favorite, which mostly had nothing to do with the fact it was from Harry.
Emma really didn't want to go, but Gemma was expecting her. And she really needed to see her, have her support. They'd been texting, a lot. Gemma had heard about her dad and reached out. It was the only emotionally connection Emma really had, those texts, and she needed to see Gemma, honestly. Even if it meant seeing Harry.
She might have wanted to see Harry.
To explain, and maybe just to see him. Make sure he was happy, feel his warmth, steal him back.
No, that was unlikely. See if he was happy and wish him well.
She wore the sweater.
The house was cozy when she arrived, like it always was and it thawed her heart enough for it to ache a bit. For something new. Her heart ached a fair bit off and on, then went numb. It was the only way she'd survived lately. Emma knew she was putting off really feeling her major loss.
It was a strange pleasure to mourn something as minor as heartbreak.
The hug from Gemma made the trip through the snow and down memory lane worth it. And the people all around her and their laughter were invigorating.
The alcohol helped as well. Their house was pretty dry but had been especially when she started to notice her mom was unconsciously developing a bottle a day habit. When it wasn't there she didn't mention it though, so Emma didn't buy it, except for special occasions.
She was merry, and felt held. Her hand was in Gemma's. She'd stayed away from the back bathroom and the kitchen, even come in the front door.
Emma felt like she was getting away with it.
Harry wasn't there, with girlfriend in tow or not. So all her pontificating about checking on him was all for naught, and she was getting all the crosses. She certainly felt like today was a plus.
Until she heard a tone of elation issue from Anne's happy voice that only motherly joy could produce.
Harry was here.
"Fuck!" Came out of her mouth, and Gemma looked at her sharply.
"What?"
"Nothing, guess I'm jumpy, your mum's shout made me spill." Emma thought she shouted an excuse me while she hurried up the stairs to hide, find a place farthest away from Harry and his happiness. He might be alone, but if he was glowing like a brand, the way he did when they holed up together only slightly dimmed by their parting, now because of it, from some other lover, Emma couldn't stand it.
Plus, she thought she'd heard another name connected to his over her own rated r exclamation.
She was coming out of the bathroom. Emma had suppressed her tears ruthlessly and her bottom lip might bruise from the brutal teeth marks she employed. She'd have given herself some words in the mirror, affirmations helped, but what was she gonna say. "You're happy for him."
She wasn't. She was happy with him.
"Fuck this." Emma decided the only course of action was a straight line to her parents house. her mother's house, she mentally corrected and gave herself a more legitimate reason to cry than over a boy. Even if that boy was Harry Styles.
Who she barely stopped herself from running into as she kept her head down and rounded the bannister to head down the stairs.
"Jesus! You gave me a fright!" She dramatized and kept a hand over her heart and her tear stained face down.
"Emma." His voice was flat, and not cold, but the warmth that snuggled around her name was absent and she shivered. "I wondered if you'd be here." Not Hoped, she noted. "What are you doing up here? Don't your usually use the back bathroom?" There was just a bit of heat in that statement, but it didn't warm, it burned. Was he being mean, that wasn't like him? "Nice sweater." Ok, definitely mean.
Her face came up with that thought, it shocked her out of the sense of control she was exercising.
He did look hard, mean, for a moment, but soft around the edges like a melting popsicle when he caught her face.
"Are you crying?" His hand came up and he stopped it mid air before it wiped away her tear.
Emma felt her body lean into him and another tear slipped out when his warm palm and always chilly finger tips touched her cheek.
God she'd missed him! While she was bolstering her mother, she'd needed support. He was supportive, or would have been. But he wasn't taking her calls, and she couldn't bring herself to text, "my dad died". Then, it was such old news, she figured he'd have heard from Gemma.
He took his hand away like she was a hot cooktop.
He pushed his hair back off his forehead with the hand probably damp with her tears and bravely changed the subject. "How long you in town for this time? Jetting off to some climate refuge hotspot soon?"
Emma flinched. Oh- he didn't know.
"Un, no, I'm living here." She didn't elaborate, maybe saying it out loud was as hard as texting it. "I was actually just about to head home to check on my mum. The back bathroom was in use, and the cold makes me need to pee." What the fuck was she talking about, he didn't need that information.
His dimple pressed in just a bit and he went to say something, but Emma just couldn't. She couldn't look at him anymore, or tell him about why she lived there, or about the ticket he seemed to have been hurt enough to move on over. She definitely didn't want to see evidence of his movement, especially not his upgrade. "Anyway, nice to see you," the words shot out of her mouth, impresonal and true. "Bye Harry."
"Wait Emma!" She thought she heard, but she just kept going. She'd tell Gemma she was sick.
She nearly was when she saw Harry's girlfriend hugging her closest friend in the living room.
"Oh god."
Luckily, when she got home, her mum was awake and feeling chatty, not blue. Emma focused on her and the special she was watching. Let the warm sound of her mother's once common laughter wrap around her as a blanket. It was more comforting than a cup of tea.
She waited until later to cry herself to sleep.
The next day was Christmas- the first without her father. She dried her rightful tears before she saw her mom, though she would have had all the standing in the world for them and she felt better about them than those she's shed the night before. She knew though that her wet face would cause a cascade event, the first drop in a waterfall, so she dried them up.
They had traditions to get through.
And get through they did. They each wrapped a gift for her father that they left under the tree and held each other right before tucking into a late brunch and preparing a boozy and sweet laden Christmas dinner, Emma contributed the puddings.
They were very much her mother's favorite, and she broke out a scandi recipe she'd enjoyed the last several years.
She Skyped her university friends, they exchanged the small gifts she'd mailed them and them her. She missed them something awful. She missed school horribly, so much she even emailed her advisor. All of her heart hoped to return after the winter break.
Emma thought the feeling of missing something was a bit like a paper cut and losing your keys combined.
Harry called late Christmas Day, just a few minutes shy of Boxing Day. That more than stung, it was a gut punch, or a knife plunge, though she'd never had either.
Emma ignored the call from Harry. What was there to say?
Boxing Day, well, Emma wasn't much of a drinker, but it was basically a tenet of British culture to get obliterated while watching the queen.
For the last several years, Emma had been off her face on Harry. This year she chose savingnon blanc with her mum. Two days, then they'd go back to a dry house. Tradition was tradition, and she couldn't think about the one she'd started and ached all over for.
What a pale imitation of ecstasy drunkenness was, though she supposed they both left a hangover, a residue.
Her bed, when she begged off to it early was warm and fragrant, but it smelled all wrong. No sandalwood or black coffee, not even the mint she'd come to associated with the comfort of love, or something like it.
It was worse, because when she closed her eyes, having seen Harry's someone in person, she could see him snugged up to her, so cozy. It was in their place, their room at the Boat's Head.
It was over, Boxing Day, when she puked.
She had another missed call from Harry. 11:59
Her personal witching hour.
The next day was a little bit better, either because she had her literal hangover to tend, or because she'd ripped the bandaid off her hurt and let the wound air.
"Hiya!" Gemma's voice and face were bright, unlike the gray day.
"Hello." Emma smiled and her voice held it, she held onto it. "You're merry!"
"Yeah, I'm at the pub. Everybody is at the pub," she flashed the phone around so Emma could see the waving swaying people, "we wanted to get you outta the house, you made such an effective Irish exit the other day you've let your people down, we need to see your smile. You feeling better?"
"Yes, thank you." Emma thought about it, there was a pull to the pub. "Um, maybe I can swing over."
It only took a few minutes to throw on jeans and a jumper, not her former favorite. The walk was a little longer.
When she found them, her first comment was "Im not drinking!" Over a grimace.
"Too much wine with old Elizabeth, huh? " Gemma Laughed
"Yes! Did you know my mum has a long pour?" Emma shared with a laugh.
"No, but mine's gotten more heavy on the booze with me lately, they must like the new stages. Daughters as actual friends and drinking partners. Mum is thrilled!" Gemma grinned. "So am I! Harry's a little jealous."
Emma tried to catch her grimace before it stomped across her face. Gemma kept talking and she thought she'd got away with it.
"He wants to be one of the girl's! He came down last night and mum, Camille and I were sharing wine and mum was showing her atrocious pictures. You'd think he'd be mad or embarrassed! He was like, 'Where's my glass?'" Gemma was staring at her while she chuckled.
Emma had less success not responding. Her face was a picture she was sure, a jealous one. And then she heard herself asking, "what's she like?" She gulped down the g word she almost voiced. "Camille?"
Gemma made a funny face, then looked at her again. "Um, she's silly and kinda quiet and I think she's worried my mom will care she's posed nude."
She wouldn't. That wasn't Anne's style. And if she did have an issue, she'd never voice it. She was really big on respecting her kids choices. Even some of the stupider ones Harry had made.
Was she ranked among those now?
"Why do you ask?" The gentleness in a Gemma's voice told Emma she knew more than she was saying.
Emma couldn't explain, she was still in such a tender state, like a fissured piece of glass, she knew she couldn't go over it. "I just hope Harry's happy." It was the only true thing she could say.
And Gemma, bless her just looped her arm through Emma's and said like she was holding a cracked egg. "He is." She left it at that, before she stood, pulling Emma after her. "And we need another drink." Apparently Emma was drinking, she needed it.
They spent another couple hours at the pub and Emma walked home through the soft snow. Her nose was stuffy, and her eyes were leaking, and she was drunk. Least she realized she must be, cuz she was crying. She really hated crying.
She was still weeping under her breath when she got home and found Harry on her doorstoop.
"You're still here?" She boggled. She assumed he'd taken his girlfriend to his big London home Emma had never been to, since she wasn't ever his g word.
"Yeah." He rubbed his hands over his corduroy flares. She'd consider what that might mean, but the pants distracted her. Those were new, must be getting fashion influences from new places, mew people. Those pants were roomy for him. He looked good in them. He looked good, happy.
"Did you need something?" Seeing himwas ripping her guts out and she could barely keep more tears at bay. Her insides were dangerously close to the skin now, tender and exposed. She hoped the distance between them and the weather and, well, maybe his rose colored glasses brought on by loving some other girl, he wouldn't notice her crying.
Over him. At the moment.
"No, I, um," he swallowed. "I thought we might talk." He made those green eyes at her and she hated it. Cuz they were soft and for someone else these days.
"I think we've said it all."
"We haven't said anything, not really, in a year."
"Yeah, well actions over words mate." Good, she was angry. She tried to go around him, into her door. Out of the cold and this situation.
"Emma, wait." He caught her shoulders and her blood froze in her veins but her tears were hot on her cheeks. "I'mso sorry about your dad." He choked up too.
She looked at him and let hurt run down her face, didn't even bother trying to stiffen her upper lip. When he opened his arms, she went to him and cried in a way she really hadn't let herself, into the comfort of his scent, the hurt of his presence.
Emma wasn't sure how long she cried, they wound up siting on the cold stone bench when their knocking knees froze.
"S that why you used the ticket?" He whispered against her hair sometime later.
She nodded. Sniffed up her tears and his pain laced smell.
"Why didn't you call me?"
She shrugged.
"I would have understood. And I would have come, to be with you."
Her tears apparently hadn't run out. She knew that, but she was hurt, by his hurt and his expectation.
She looked up at him. Her lips were so close to his, the outer edge that felt so plush and lovely.
That was a Liberty she didn't have. Maybe never a right she had, like him just expecting her to drop her goals to go to him.
"Where's your girlfriend?" She said the word like the four letters it felt like it was to her.
"Um," he stumbled over the subject change . "She was tired."
"You tell her you were coming to see a girl you used to fuck?"
"What?" He looked at her with a frown and Emma supposed she was being mean, mean but honest. "Don't say it like that. That's not what we were about."
Emma quirked a brow at him. "No?"
"Listen, why are you being like this?" He swallowed and looked like the wronged party when he was the one who assumed the worst of her, then abandoned her, moved on, and showed up, she could only assume, to rub it in her face.
The last year had been the worst of her life, and he'd been part of that. Mostly his absence.
Whoever's fault that was.
"Look, I don't need your pity or your condolences. Or your forgiveness. You just assumed I was taking advantage of you like you didn't know me at all. Which I realized is true apart from knowing what I look like naked, right? Let's be honest Harry? Huh, I'm just the girl you used to fuck over break. Your Christmas bit of fun. Til you found your next model. Who you couldn't wait to come home and show off, right in my face. So if we were more, you're a heartless asshole." She was crying over him now, but half the tears at least were angry and her face must be bright red.
The kicked puppy look on his face was so genuine and felt so false to her she could scream. "Why would I even think you would care if I had a girlfriend or not? If anybody was just the person the other thought of as a holiday fling, it was you about me, Emma." He huffed, took down the finger he'd stood up to point at her. "I tried for more, asked for more?"
"When?" He'd asked for more, how'd she miss that?
"What'd you think the ticket was for? That was me asking you for more, at least more time?"
"I don't have extra time." She countered. Emma supposed that was some mealy mouthed passive way of saying you wanted to spend time with a person at least.
"And I do?" He yelled that before taking a big breath and muttering sorry. "Listen, I know what you're about, and that you are very serious saving the world, but I'm just as busy as you, more, and I would have made time for you."
"Why?" She stood up into his space. "So I could just miss you more, fall more for you and not get to have you in any real way? To torture myself?" And there is was. Emma knew the ache of the first weeks without him, and she'd always counted their brief time together as worth it. Subjecting herself to more just seemed masochistic. "Have more time with you so I have to get over you all over again multiple times a year."
"Who says you would have had to get over me? We could have been together!" Both of their voices had escalated past the bounds of polite disagreement.
"Together in every way except literally?" She threw her hands out at her sides. "What's the point of that?"
"The point?" He huffed. "The point is that I wanted you and you wanted me, and we could have had each other, but you're too busy," he sneered, "and couldn't talk to me."
"I couldn't talk to anyone!" She screamed. "I was supposed to text you that my dad died and I needed to use the ticket that was supposed to be a gift but was more like a curse, to take care of my mom. That my dream was at best on hold while I made sure my mum could get out of bed?" He looked a little slapped. "While you were off what? Being a rockstar? Having a record breaking year? Moving on? Out of spite?!" She didn't want to think that, but she'd wondered. She knew she was giving herself to much credit. "Why you made sure to bring her to Holmes Chapel? You take her to the Boar's Head too? Or just fuck her in your mum's powder room?" The words were explosive, the cadence like charges lighting off each other. Emma felt like a powder keg.
He was shaking his head. "Stop it. No, no, I didn't move on, not until I thought you were done with me."
"Oh, when I needed you and you wouldn't answer my calls?"
He looked at the ground then. When his eyes came up , the lovely green of them was even more vibrant, due to the tears crowding around their ages. "Emma, I'm so sorry about that. I'll never forgive myself."
His sincerity softened her, though the anger she'd wrapped around herself like a coat was all that was keeping her ribs together.
"I'm so sorry, I know the last year has been more than anybody should have to bear, especially alone." He took a big breath. "But Camille, I didn't, it's not," he stumbled over the words like they were glass edges, but Emma had a feeling she was the one who was about to get cut. "Um, she and I just met and, well, we, we get on." That was a kind way to put it. "I wasn't looking for somebody else. But I was lonely and she's," the changes on his face ripped through Emma. "She's lovely. I brought her home, because I wanted mum to meet her." That told Emma everything.
"You love her?" She already knew the answer.
He ran his hand through his locks, avoided eye contact until the last second, "yeah, yeah, I think I might."
Emma was nodding, biting her lip to gatekeep the fresh round of tears threatening. "That's good Harry, I'm," she breathed, "I'm happy for you."
He looked at her then. "Really?"
"Course, I care about you, your happiness." That brought on the tears and he reached for her and she had to throw up her hands to keep him away.
"No, no, please don't touch me."
His phone rang, he was the only person she knew who actually kept their ringer on. Well the only person under 50, it made her smile. Then cringe, the weird personal knowledge she had because of how much of an almost they were. From his face, Emma knew it was his actual calling.
"Um," he shady buttoned the call. "I have to go."
"Yeah," was all she could respond with, she already knew that. "Well, have a happy nee year Harry. You sticking around?" God she hoped not. May have to convince her mum to go to London if so.
He shook his head, "Um no, we're going to Paris."
Ouch. Emma tried for subtle when she wrapped an arm around herself. "Sorry, I'd like," he always looked so genuine lately, in every interview she'd watched to hurt herself, his heart on his sleeve, in his eyes now. "I'd like to hug you, think you could stomach it?"
Emma nodded and went to him for the barest second and then concentrated on the pressure behind her eyes while he kept her close. "I'm so sorry Emma, for everything. I'd really like to be friends," he'd pulled back to hold her eye line at that.
She nodded, she wasn't sure how she'd handle that, but at best it was a couple phone calls, and no weekends away, they hadn't mentioned that in their middle state, she didn't think it would be to hard to keep him at arms length when they had continents between them most times. "Yeah, ok, friends. You take care of yourself, Harry." Emma was a strong girl, woman now, she could handle some texts and a phone call or so.
He kissed her cheek, a continental affectation she closed her eyes over and turned to go. He was almost out of the gate when he turned back. "I'd never take her to the Boar's Head, by the way, that's our place. I'd never take anybody else there." Before she could even think of a response he looked away quick and started to go. "Take care of yourself, Emma. Happy New Year." That came back to her on the wind.
Blew away like the hold she had on the heart she'd given him last Christmas. At least he was someone special.
#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fanfic#tis the damn season#ttds#chapter 6#last Christmas
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Longest Night (50) Celebrating
Here we go! The last chapter! And it’s a doozy!
I don’t know about the rest of you guys, but I grew up calling all of my parents friend’s ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’. Some of them I still do. Which was really fun when I dated a family friend and kept calling his mom ‘Aunt Julie’. We are not related. Fun times!
Also, there’s some nicknames in this chapter. “Peepums” is Tom. “Nonnie Cheng” is Sabine. And “Nonna Gina” is Tom’s mom. You know how grandparents all have their weird nicknames.
Ao3 | FF.net
20 years later
—
When Marinette awoke that morning, she was alone in bed. It wasn’t that odd. Adrien had always been an early riser, but this was a different reason than just that.
But she didn’t worry. It was best just to leave things the way they were.
Dressing in a robe, she went downstairs to start making breakfast. The kids were old enough to get ready on their own now, and as long as they were down before 7, she didn’t bug them.
The first into the kitchen was the youngest, Emma. A complete girly-girl and lover of all things pink and fashionable. Even at 12, she had her own sophisticated sense of style (party cultivated by her grandfather). She danced in her pink dress and adorable white flats. “What do you think, mama? Perfect for career day? Do I look like a professional?”
“Of course you do, sweetheart.”
She beamed. “Where’s papa?”
“Oh, uh, I’m not sure. He couldn’t sleep last night, so he went for patrol. He hasn’t been back yet.”
Emma frowned hard. “He’ll be there for career day though, right?”
“He wouldn’t miss it for the world! But Peepums and Grandfather Gabriel are going to be there too.”
“Is Peepums bringing treats?”
“I would assume so. He never passes up a chance to bring snacks. Now, I’m making crepes, you want one or two?”
“Just one, mama.”
“Alright.”
The next down the stairs was the oldest (by two minutes) Hugo. “Morning mama,” he smiled brightly.
“There’s my birthday boy! Feel any older?”
“No, but I feel wiser!” He joked, as he jumped on the stool by the counter.
“Where’s Louis?”
“Stuck in the toilet.”
“And you mean that figuratively, right?”
He shrugged. “What’s for breakfast?”
“Crepes, blueberry, your favorite.”
“Yes! I want five!”
“You can have three, I don’t want you to get a tummy ache before school.”
“Lame! Bring on the crepes!” He pounded his fists on the counter.
“Three, and then if you aren’t stuffed, I’ll consider more.”
Then came the unmistakable sound of a body slowly falling down the stairs, before a dark haired teen crawled across the floor and collapsed next to his mother’s legs.
“Ah, Birthday boy part 2. Welcome to the land of the living!”
“It should be a crime to have to wake up early on your birthday.” Said the boy, face flat against the ground.
“You truly are my child,” said Marinette with a smile.
“Where’s pops?” Asked Hugo, digging into his second crepe.
“Out on patrol.”
This caused Louis to stir and look up. “Did something happen?”
“No, he just couldn’t sleep.”
Hugo frowned. “Nightmares again? He’s been having those a lot lately.”
“Yeah. I’m not sure why he’s having them. But you kids don’t need to worry about it.”
“Are we still okay for our party tomorrow?”
“Of course!” Marinette beamed. “Even if papa wasn’t feeling great, we’d still have it! Aunt Chloe reserved the rooftop pool for you, after all.”
“…I’m so excited,” said the child on the floor, with no enthusiasm. “You just can’t tell right now.”
“Well, you’re not going to get any rest on the floor. Sit in your seat and eat your crepe. I’ll make a little coffee.”
“…yay…”
—
Emma bounced nervously in her seat. She was flanked by Tom and Gabriel, who had both already presented for career day.
The day was almost over, and her father hadn’t shown.
“It’s okay, my little cupcake.” Tom assured, petting her blonde hair. “He’ll be here.”
“And if he doesn’t make it,” added Gabriel, “It wasn’t because he didn’t want to. He’s probably out there stopping a criminal, saving lives. I know you’re the most important thing in the world to him.”
Emma nodded, believing both of her grandfathers, but also not wanting to be one without a dad on career day.
Through the years, Emma had gotten used to her father’s unpredictable behavior. He loved her to the end of the world and back, and would move mountains for her if he could. And most days, it really really showed.
But some days, he just wasn’t…there. Emotionally, spiritually, or like today, physically. Her mother had similar episodes, but mostly in mood swings. She got angry sometimes, seemingly over nothing. Never directed at Emma or her brothers, thankfully, but Emma knew that there was something different about her parents.
She knew the story. She had been told pieces of it growing up, but never allowed to watch the footage. Mama and Papa had been kidnapped and tortured, because they were superheroes, and they were never the same after. The details were vague, and she was told it would be too scary for her to handle every time she asked. But she saw the scars, heard her father’s screams at night.
Most days, she didn’t want to know.
“Alright! I think that’s everyone!” Miss Bustier called. “Thank you all for participating in our career day! It’s awesome that we have such a wide range of jobs just in this very room!”
Emma deflated. Her father really wasn’t coming.
Tom laid a giant hand on her head and rubbed.
But then, there was a knock at the window.
“Chat Noir?” Miss Bustier asked.
The man in black waved as she opened the window.
“So so sorry I’m late!” He apologized, hopping into the room. “I caught a robber, and I walked him down to the police station and we had to do all this paperwork—“
“Papa!” Emma shouted, leaping over her desk. She ran to him, and threw her arms around him in a crushing hug. “You made it!”
“Just in time it seems,” he laughed, hugging her back. “I’m sorry I’m late. Can you forgive me?”
“Of course! Come on, it’s your turn to present!” She took his hand and led him up to the front of the room. “Everyone, this is my dad, Chat Noir! He’s a superhero!”
—
The next day was Saturday, and Marinette was full of stress up to her neck. She paced poolside, as her family helped set up for the party.
“Alright, Nino’s on music, Alya’s on Emma duty, Chloe covered catering, mom and dad have the cake, Gabriel and Emilie have decorations…what am I missing?”
“My Lady, you’ve gone over this list a hundred times. We’re fine.”
“Drinks! I forgot the drinks!”
Adrien pointed over at the bar. “Luka and Kagami are on drinks, remember? Luka’s making his mimosas for the adults.”
“Oh, right.” Then she pointed at him. “No alcohol, alright? Not with your medication.”
“Oh come on, these are Luka’s mimosas! I’m gonna get krunk!”
“Dad’s gonna get krunk?” Asked Hugo, from the pool.
“No one is getting krunk!” Marinette poked Adrien in the chest. “Look what you started!”
“I’m only teasing.” Adrien laughed, taking his wife’s hand. “Relax My Lady, it’s a party, a sweet 16 party! Everyone’s here to have fun. And they will as long as we relax.”
Marinette got close, whispering conspiratorially, “that’s just the thing! Do you remember our sweet sixteen parties?”
“Well...I didn’t have a party,” Adrien shrugged. “You, Alya, and Nino helped me escape the house and we went to the movies.”
“Yeah, and they spent the whole time making out, so you and I just sat there awkwardly.”
“I think I put my arm around you,” he grinned. “My very good friend.”
She stuck her tongue out at him.
“And your sixteenth...was that the year that Lila told everyone it was on a different day?”
“And you were the only one who called to confirm it was on the original day, and so you were the only one that showed? Yep, that’s the one. I cried on you for 15 minutes when I realized no one else was coming.”
“I mean, yeah, that sucked, but we still had fun with your family.”
“My point is, this is Hugo and Louis’ sixteenth birthday. I want them to have a good one, to have what we couldn’t have.”
“You have their gifts in your purse, right?”
“Yeah?”
“Then I wouldn’t worry about it. Their friends and family are coming, everything looks good, so just relax.”
Marinette took a deep sigh. “You’re right, my love. Whatever happens, happens, and we’ve done all we can.”
“The party will be fine, Mom.” Said Louis from a lounge chair.
“Ah! Louis? Why aren’t you in the pool?”
“I’m perfectly content just relaxing here. I’ll get hot soon enough and go in the pool.”
“Are you sure?”
Adrien wrapped an arm around his wife. “Marinette, let him alone. He’s fine. You know he’s our introvert.”
“Mama! Papa!” Emma called, running towards them from the hotel elevator. “Look at the swimsuit grandfather Gabriel got me!” She twirled, letting the shimmery, glittery greens, teals, and purples swirl in a kaleidoscope of color. “I look like a mermaid!”
“You sure do, Princess!” Adrien beamed.
Emma squealed in delight before running back to Alya.
“See? All of our kids are enjoying themselves. The guests are slowly trickling in...” he gestured to the elevator where more classmates with gifts arrived. “And no catastrophes yet.”
“Fine fine, Kitty, I get it. I’ll have a mimosa and lighten up.”
“Have one for me too!” He called after, as she headed to the bar.
Soon, the guests arrived. Hugo and Louis had invited their entire class of 18 kids. Some parents stayed to help with chaperoning, and some even brought younger siblings that were friends with Emma.
It was turning out to be a real shin-dig.
So far, Marinette felt at ease. The four parents that had stayed were mostly just hanging out at the bar, but the kids were in the pool, and no one was drowning.
Louis still reclined on the lounger, sunning himself.
“You're still doing okay over here, kiddo?”
“Mom, I’m doing so okay. So okay, it’s ridiculous. Nonna Gina brought me over a virgin mimosa, cause everyone’s talking about them. I feel like I’m on vacation.”
“As long as you’re content, I’m happy. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t feeling left out.”
“Nah,” he waved her off. “I will go swimming, but I’m going to wait until after eating.”
“Okay, kiddo.”
Seeing Hugo happily enthralled in a cannonball contest, and Louis sunning himself like a cat, she decided to check in with her youngest. Though she saw Alya at the bar talking to Kagami, and Emma nowhere in sight.
This used to make her panic immediately. None of her kids were especially hyper or rambunctious. They didn’t run off on their own, especially without letting her know.
But there was still a fear, still a niggling doubt in the back of her head that said ‘what if’?
As calm as possible, she approached the adults at the bar, and asked Alya. “Have you seen Emma?”
“She ran down to the lobby to use the bathroom,” Alya answered casually.
“Alone?”
“Yeah, Marinette, she’s 12. She can handle going to the bathroom alone.” It was a reassurance, no judgement. Because sometimes, Adrien and Marinette needed a reminder that their children were well adjusted and had plenty of common sense.
Marinette knew that. And it wasn’t the bathroom part she was concerned about. It was the trip down to the lobby by herself.
She heard a father speak softly, “for superheroes, they are certainly overprotective of their kids. Kind of feel sorry for them.”
Marinette nodded at Alya, and retreated sheepishly. Was her paranoia ruining her children’s lives?
“What’s with that look, My Lady?” Adrien asked, softly, sipping on his drink.
“Sorry, sorry, I just…overheard something I shouldn’t dwell on.” She looked at the drink in his hands, narrowing her eyes.
“It’s virgin!” He handed it to her. “I promised I was going to quit. Getting plastered at our kid’s birthday would be the worst time for them to find out I have a problem.”
“It’s not a problem yet, but that’s why I want you to stop. So it doesn’t become one.”
“Hey! Let go Isaac!” Louis’ voice carried over the water. Instantly, Marinette and Adrien were alert and looked to see a larger boy pulling Louis toward the pool by the arm.
“Hey!” Marinette called out. “Let him go! If he doesn’t want to go swimming, don’t force him!”
“Oh come on, Lady!” The father from the bar shouted over to her. “What’s the point in having a pool party for your boys if they aren’t even going to go swimming!?”
SPLASH
Louis surfaced with a gasp, and then a defeated “aw man!”
“Are you okay kiddo?” Marinette asked. “You didn’t have your phone on you, right?”
“No, I’m fine.” He took off his soaked shirt and dropped it on the edge of the pool with a loud plop. “Just…didn’t want to get wet yet.”
“Dude, come on Isaac, don’t be such a turd!” Hugo chastised.
“He looked lonely!” Isaac argued.
“Whatever,” Louis said, defeated. “Just…don’t dunk me, okay?”
“No promises!”
Adrien frowned at the exchange as Louis swam over closer to his brother. “Isaac, Isaac, why is that name familiar? Is that the kid that’s been picking on Louis? Why is he here?”
“Oh,” Marinette smacked her head. “That’s what they were asking about!”
“What? Who?”
“A few weeks ago, the boys were asking me questions about what to do about a classmate people don’t get along with. They asked if they should include them in the party if they were inviting the rest of the class. I told them that would be the right thing to do, but I didn’t realize they were talking about Louis’ bully!” She groaned. “And it looks like the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” She glared at Isaac’s dad at the bar.
Adrien smiled over at the pool. Both Hugo and Louis were laughing and seemed to be having a good time. It seemed Louis was already over his impromptu dunking. “Our kids are resilient. It’ll take more than that to bring them down.”
“They are strong.” Marinette breathed. “Stronger than me.”
It was then that Emma returned. “Hi mama, I’m back. Aunt Alya said I should check in with you because you were worried? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was going.”
Marinette smiled at her. “It’s fine Emma. You told Aunt Alya, so someone knew. You just know I’m a basket case.”
Emma frowned at her mom. “You’re not a basket case. You’re just...worried?”
“Does that bother you? Do I make you feel trapped or smothered?”
Adrien stared at his wife in horror. Likewise, so did Emma. “No! Not at all!” She hugged her around the waist and added, “Nonnie Cheng worries about where I am too. She says it’s because you went missing, and it’s scared her ever since. I don’t want to scare you, mom.”
Marinette hugged Emma tightly and said, “I have the best kids in the world.”
“In that case,” Emma grinned. “Can I have some soda?”
“Sure, just tell Aunt Kagami what you want.”
“Thanks mom!” She beamed and scurried off.
“And no running!” Marinette called after. “Girl’s got my clumsy streak. She’ll break her neck.”
“Crisis averted it seems.” Said Adrien.
“For now,” Marinette narrowed her eyes. “But Ladybug never rests!”
Adrien pecked his wife on the lips. “Someone has to be responsible.”
“Hey pops!” Hugo called from the pool.
“What’s up?”
“We’re going to do a diving contest! You should join!”
“Yeah!”
“Come on Mr. Dupain-Cheng!”
“Show us some Chat Noir style!”
Marinette nudged him. “Go ahead. Show those kids how it’s done.”
He smirked. “Okay okay.” He took off his shirt and laid it on the lounger by their bags. Then he entered the pool from the shallow end, coming up behind the kids. “How does this diving contest work?”
“It’s easy!” Said Hugo, “we’re going to take turns coming up with unique ways to jump in the pool. Winner is the best technique, or most creative.”
“I got one!” Said a chubby kid. He climbed out of the pool and up on the diving board.
“Make room!” Someone called. “Cannon ball champion on the loose!”
“This is called ‘The Patrick Star’!” He bounced twice, getting real air before leaping out, parallel with the water, arms and legs spread out like a starfish.
And he collided with the water with a resounding clap, making everyone go, ‘ooo!’
The kid surfaced, his entire frontside pink. “Ow.”
The rest of the class laughed at him.
One by one, classmates would come up with a dive, though most were a lot more elegant than the first.
“I call this, ‘The Ladybug’.” A girl said. She ran and jumped, twisting in the air while throwing her arm, mimicking Ladybug’s yo-yo. She managed to say “bug out!” Before she hit the water. Marinette whistled. “She’s got my vote!”
“Come on, Pops,” said Hugo. “It’s your turn!”
“I don’t have a—“
“Just make something up! Go go!”
Adrien pulled himself out of the pool and headed toward the diving board, aware of the people watching, curious.
This was his twin boys’ special day. He had to be impressive. He had to be the cool dad.
He took a running start, falling into a front flip as he hit the diving board. His adult weight bowed the board with force, sending him up into the air. He curled tightly into a ball, using the momentum to rotate three times, before coming out of the ball and diving seamlessly into the water.
When he surfaced, the crowd of kids were going wild. They screamed and chanted “Dad! Dad! Dad!”
Obviously started by his boys.
Adrien beamed as he treaded water. Being Chat Noir was great, even with all the pain it had brought him. But being his kid’s hero was the absolute best.
But everything came to a screeching halt as Isaac, the butthole kid, let out a loud, “EWWW!!” Grabbing everyone’s attention. “What’s wrong with your dad’s back!? It’s all gross!”
Adrien slammed his eyes shut, all at once feeling self-conscious. But this was just a dumb teenager. Maybe he didn’t know any better. But before he could gather himself to calmly explain his scars, his boys spoke up for him.
“It’s scarring, you jerk,” said Louis.
“He got it from being a superhero, when he was just two years older than we are!” Added Hugo.
Isaac scoffed, “Chat Noir and Ladybug aren’t real superheroes! Not like the ones in America! All they do is rescue cats from trees and show up for charity events. They don’t even do anything anymore!”
Adrien sloppily backtracked, reaching out for the edge of the pool.
“Just yesterday, he caught a robber! That’s not nothing!” Hugo defended.
“Oh yeah?” Said Isaac, “My dad said that they used to fight supervillains, but they couldn’t stop the guy responsible for them! He said they’re losers and failures!”
“Hey Jean,” said one of the parents. “Tell your kid to shut up.”
Isaac’s father took a chug from his beer and shrugged. “Someone had to say it.”
“Monsieur,” said Ladybug with god-like patience. “I suggest you and your son leave. I don’t feel the need to play host to someone who could be so hateful and misinformed.”
“Misinformed?” The man, Jean, scoffed. “I was there. I saw the stream back then. I remember what it was like. The weekly akumas, classes and events always cancelled. The only reason they stopped is because Hawkmoth gave up. I don’t think you guys should be getting recognition anymore. Sorry, not sorry.”
“Mom?” Louis called from the pool.
Jean frowned, continuing. “The rest of us have to make a living working hard, every day. You and your husband just put on some skin tight leather and prance around. Now you’re set for life. It’s disgusting.”
“Hey man, if you don’t like it, you can leave,” said Alya. “No one invited you. I heard your son was only invited out of obligation.”
“Mom!” Louis called again.
“Marinette and Adrien suffered enough for a lifetime. Every day is a struggle! How dare you say otherwise!”
“MOM!” Louis screamed.
Marinette whipped her head over to the pool, seeing Adrien struggling to keep his head above water. Louis and Hugo were holding him up. She hurried over. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
“He’s having an attack!”
Tom rushed over, reaching his hands under Adrien’s arms, and pulled him out of the pool. He tried to set him on his feet, but he kept leaning forward, trying to lay down. His eyes were wide, but unfocused, as his breaths came rapidly.
Marinette tugged on his arm. “Come on, Kitty. Not here.” She called over to Chloe. “Is there a room we can borrow for a second?”
“Follow me!”
Louis broke off from the group, but Hugo and Marinette were quick to escort Adrien away from the party.
“Mom?” Emma asked, right as they were about to get on the elevator.
“It’s okay, Honey. Dad just needs a minute. Stay behind with Aunt Alya, okay?”
Emma nodded, though didn’t look convinced.
Chloe showed them to her room, where she quickly got a towel for Adrien to wrap up in.
Hugo and Marinette eased him down to sit on the couch. There, he slumped, his head resting on the back of the couch.
Louis found their room, cup in hand. “I brought a coke. I know that usually helps.”
Marinette sighed in relief. “Thank you baby,” she took the cup from him and put it in Adrien’s hand, then helped him take a sip.
They sat for a while, watching Adrien breathe slowly and take occasional sips from his drink.
“I’m so sorry boys,” Marinette looked to them sadly. “We didn’t mean to ruin your birthday.”
Hugo frowned at her. “What? You guys didn’t ruin anything. Isaac’s the one that pooped on our party.”
“Yeah,” added Louis, “and we were having a great time up until now. Don’t worry about it mom.”
Adrien very shakily brought the cup towards his face, and Marinette was quick to help, so he didn’t spill. “Dad’s going to be fine,” she explained. “Why don’t you boys get back to the party?”
“If it’s okay, I’d like to wait until dad feels a little better. I’d feel guilty if I left,” said Louis.
“Me too,” said Hugo. “And I need a few minutes to calm down to keep from punching Isaac in the face. What he said was dumb. He has no idea what you guys do.”
“…it shouldn’t have bothered me…” Adrien said, softly.
“Dad?”
“I’m okay,” he took a deep exhale. “Just…lost myself for a moment.”
Hugo hugged him tightly around the shoulders. “Love you, dad. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m sorry for scaring you boys…and your friends. But I’ll be alright now.”
“You recovered pretty quickly,” Marinette noted.
“It’s because I have my big strong boys with me.” He wrapped his arms around his sons. “There was nothing to worry about.”
Except, there was.
Alya burst into the room, Chloe behind her, with a look of panic.
“Marinette, come quickly!”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“It’s Emma! She’s been akumatized!!”
—
As Emma watched her father be rushed out of the party, a stone fell into her gut. No matter how often this happened, no matter how good they got at catching the attacks, it still scared her when it happened.
She was torn between wanting to be with him, and not wanting to see that vacant expression on his face. Her mother said it was a coping mechanism he developed a long time ago, when they had been kidnapped. He just switched his brain off when he got overwhelmed, as to not experience pain. It only happened a few times a year, only in super stressful situations where he thought about his torture.
Emma wiped at her face as she looked over the party. Alya was chastising the adult man that had talked bad about her father, and Hugo and Louis’ friends were ripping into the kid that started the whole mess.
Everyone was angry and yelling.
“Emma?” Gabriel asked, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright, dear?”
“Oh, Grandfather…” She sniffed. “I’m just…scared.”
“Your father will be alright. It’s nothing physical, it’s just a mental state.”
“I know…” She screwed up her lips. “But I’m scared people are going to keep saying that stuff to him. Mom acts like I’m too young to understand what’s happening…but people are forgetting that they are real superheroes, and they act like they’re mascots. I’m scared this is going to happen again.” She rubbed at her damp eyes. “He doesn’t deserve it. Neither of them do.”
“You really love your parents, don’t you?”
“Of course! They’re the best!”
“Then, I have a plan. Would you be willing to help?”
“Of course, what is it?”
“Come with me, we’ll speak in private.”
Curious, Emma followed Gabriel into the hotel, down to a conference room. He locked the door behind them.
“You remember our little secret?”
“That I know you were Hawkmoth?”
“Yes. My plan requires me to come out of retirement, just this once…and to akumatize you.”
She looked startled. “You want to turn me into a supervillain?”
“Only if you agree to it, dear.” He pet her hair. “My goal is to make you a supervillain, so you can terrorize Paris and remind them of what Ladybug and Chat Noir used to do. I’ll be able to see through your eyes, so I can stop and undo any damage if something goes wrong.”
Emma crossed her arms. “You’d make mom and dad fight me?”
“Not fight you, rescue you.”
She frowned again, thinking about it. Then she nodded. “Let’s do it!”
Gabriel smiled at her, and opened his sports jacket, where Nooroo was hiding. “Nooroo, Dark Wings rise!”
In a flash of purple light, Hawkmoth had returned. Inside his cane, a little white butterfly fluttered.
Emma danced on her toes. “What kind of powers are you going to give me? I want to be pretty!”
He chuckled at her eagerness. “Of course, my sweet Emma.” He evilized the butterfly, and then coaxed it into the paw print bracelet she was wearing.
A purple mask appeared on her face.
“Mermaidia, I’m giving you the power of the seas. You may travel through any body of water, and turn those that oppose you into sea creatures. In exchange, you must give Chat Noir and Ladybug a taste of nostalgia. Do you accept these terms?”
“Absolutely, Hawkmoth.”
The dark purple fog encompassed Emma, turning the sweet blonde girl into a real mermaid, with purple hair, shimmering scales, and an abundance of glittering gold and jewels. In her hand, she held a trident.
Hawkmoth took a bottle of water from the table, and poured it on the floor.
Mermaidia stepped into the puddle, and disappeared.
—
“Regardless if you feel like you’re right, it’s still your opinion. And an opinion doesn’t give you the right to be an asshole, especially to people who are hosting this party!” Shouted Alya.
The rest of the parents were quietly watching the exchange, not really wanting to get involved. But they were also paying attention to a similar argument in the pool.
“You are a grown adult and a parent. It’s your job to teach your kid respect and kindness, two qualities I haven’t seen from him today.”
“Look lady, I know you’re friends with the Dupain-Cheng’s and all, but come on. It doesn’t bother you that they don’t work at all? What’s the point of them calling themselves superheroes anyway? They should just hang up the suits and get real jobs.”
“They. Can’t.” Alya emphasized. “Did you not just see what happened to Adrien? What if he was working and he had an attack? What then, smart guy?”
“He won’t have attacks if he was doing something with his life!”
“They are full time parents, and full time heroes! They do more than just ‘rescue cats and make celebrity appearances at charity events’! How can you be so ignorant?!”
“What did you call me!?”
Screams came from the pool, and the argument halted.
Mermaidia had made her appearance.
“I am Mermaidia! You all have grown too soft and comfortable! I’m here to remind you what it was like back when there were akuma!” She laughed, pointed her trident, and turned a child into a fish.
The party descended into madness, as Mermaidia shot rapidly. None of the teens in the pool escaped, and all turned into various fish and sea creatures.
Isaac turned into a starfish, and Emma stuck him to her arm. “You’re coming with me. I want you to see how wrong you were.”
Several adults had tried to escape as well, but Mermaidia stopped them in their run.
Only those who knew the identity of Hawkmoth, or were previous Miraculous users didn’t panic. Rather, they stood staring, confused. Alya backed away carefully, and escaped into the hotel. Whether Emma purposely let her go or not, she would never know.
“Emma?” Asked Sabine.
“I’m not Emma anymore, I’m Mermaidia!” She turned Isaac’s father into another starfish, and stuck him on her other arm. “You mocked my parents, but now, they’re the only ones that can save you! Ahahaha!”
“Emma, stop.” Tom demanded. “You’re a good girl. We can’t let what people say get to us. People will always have their opinions that we disagree with, but we can’t take it personally.”
“But I can take this personally!” She shouted back. “My father is the greatest man alive, and no one will doubt that when I’m through! Just you see!”
She turned the rest of the assembled party goers into creatures, before leaping into the pool and disappearing.
—
Ladybug, Chat Noir, Alya, Chloe, Louis, and Hugo all returned to the party, only to find a bunch of fish.
“What the…?”
“She’s called Mermaidia,” Alya clarified. “She’s turned everyone into sea creatures. She appeared from the water, so I think she can transport through liquid.”
“She totally can, dude,” said a sea turtle from the pool.
“Nino?” Asked Chat Noir.
“Cha dude, what do you think? Pretty fitting for me, huh?”
“Are you okay?”
“Totally. All the little dudes are too.” He gestured to the fish in the pool.
“Emma turned the kid and his dad who started the argument into starfish.” Said a sea-snake. “They’re on her arms. So be careful when you attack.”
“Luka?”
“Yep.”
“Where’s my mom and dad?”
“Over here!” Called a walrus. There was a crab next to him, waving a claw. “We’re fine, honey. Just save Emma!”
“Next question,” Said Ladybug, wielding her yo-yo angrily. “Where’s Gabriel?”
Chat Noir rested a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s focus on saving Emma, and then we’ll find him.”
She sighed. “You’re right, as always, kitty. However, I think we might need some help with this akuma.” She opened her yo-yo and reached inside, pulling out two octagonal boxes. Then she turned to Hugo and Louis. “I hoped to give you your presents later, and hoped you wouldn’t ever have to use them. But desperate times come desperate measures.”
Hugo and Louis smiled at each other, with excitement.
“Louis, my wise, observant, and cunning child, this is the Miraculous of the Snake. With it, you can turn back time an infinite amount of times in a five minute duration. You will use it for the greater good.”
“Sweet.”
“And Hugo, my brave, bold, and exuberant child, this is the Miraculous of the Turtle. With it, you can create an impenetrable shield. You will use it for the greater good.”
“Yes!”
“Louis, to transform, simply say ’Sass, Scales Slither.’ And Hugo, your phrase is ‘Wayzz, Shell On’.”
“Sass, Scales Slither!”
“Wayzz, Shell On!”
A flash of green and teal, and the boys were turned into superheroes. They high fived each other.
“The Reptile Boyz are back in town!” Hugo cheered.
“Really? ‘Boyz’ with a ‘Z’?” Chat Noir asked flatly.
“It’s cool, old man!” Said Louis.
“Alright team, let’s focus,” Ladybug said, a bit too fondly for the situation at hand. She took out her yo-yo, and looked for intel. There was a special report live from Nadja Chamack.
“—Mermaidia is the first Akuma in 20 years! It was thought that Hawkmoth had retired, but it seems he has one ace left up his sleeve. The akuma was last spotted at the Luxembourg park! Hopefully, Ladybug and Chat Noir are on their way! Again, this is a real akuma, so it is advised to stay indoors and away from water!”
“She’s at the park! Let’s go!”
—
This wasn’t nearly as scary as Emma thought it would be. In fact, she was having a lot of fun. Hawkmoth did advise her that she would be influenced by her anger, but that really didn’t seem to bother her. It was really fun to turn people into sea creatures.
Though, she did feel really guilty when she hit people that were crying in fear.
But that’s what her parents were here for! To undo all this! It was fine!
“I am Mermaidia! And Ladybug and Chat Noir are your only chance for salvation!”
“Now now Emma,” Chat Noir spoke from behind. “Go easy on us. We’re a little wet behind the ears.”
Emma had to stomp down the urge to run and hug her father, and instead declared. “There you are, Ladybug and Chat Noir! Ready to do battle?”
Ladybug simply crossed her arms. “If you don’t give up your akuma, you’re grounded.”
Mermaidia stomped her foot. “You can’t ground me if you can’t catch me!” And she leapt into the fountain.
“She’s escaping!” Cried Hugo.
“Quick, fan out! Look for sources of water, and call as soon as you get sight of her!”
—
This was not Hugo or Louis’ first time using a Miraculous. Every once in a while, Marinette and Adrien would allow the children to pick one out to try, and then they’d have a family game of tag out on the Paris rooftops. The rules were to stay safe, and to not allow the media to take pictures. And at the first sign of danger, they were supposed to go home and let Mom and Dad handle it.
So the boys were familiar with their powers, but boy, they were not ready for the anxiety of an Akuma attack.
They may have been older, but Emma was still the reigning champion of tag.
“Find anything?” Louis asked, crossing his brother.
“Not a scale,” said Hugo. “Have you activated your Second Chance yet?”
“No, but I will the second we find her. Then if she escapes, we can just reverse time.”
“Smart.” Then, Hugo’s eyes caught on something in the river. “Huh?”
“What?”
“How often do you think whales go down the Seine?”
“Uh…never?”
“There she is! She’s on top of it!” Hugo activated his distress beacon on his shield, making sure to keep up with Emma, but also stay out of sight.
“We have to play this carefully. She can literally jump into the water and disappear at any second.”
“Not if there’s no water to disappear into,” said Chat Noir, appearing from nowhere.
Hugo resisted a scream. “D-Chat! You’re too sneaky!”
“I’ve been doing this a while, kiddo. Ladybug’s not here yet?”
“No, what’s the plan?”
“I have half a plan…”
“Then it’s a good thing I have half of one too!” Said Ladybug, finally joining them. “After you sent your signal, I called the French Waterway Commission and had them close the lock she’s on.”
“What did what the what?” Hugo asked.
“The river is made up of locks,” explained Louis, “chambers that fill and empty with water so boats can travel. The ground isn’t level, and the water level changes.”
“So Ladybug basically had them dam up the section Emma’s on right now,” said Chat.
“But she can still travel through water, so once she reaches the dam, she’ll just abandon ship, er, whale.” Hugo observed. “So then what?”
“Then we put my plan into action,” Chat cracked his knuckles, and stealthily made his way to the river bank.
Louis and Hugo watched in fascination as Chat called his Cataclysm and touched the water. In a boiling wave, it rolled quickly past Emma, evaporating as it went. It didn’t even have time to settle, just went up in a cloud of steam.
The whale that Emma was on run ashore, and she came to a halt. “What?”
“Nowhere to run now, little girl!” Ladybug called.
Mermaidia jumped from the back of the whale and landed in the sand. It wasn’t even damp. Chat had literally evaporated all the water in that section of the river.
“Second Chance!” Louis activated his bracelet. And just in time too, as Mermaidia shot a beam at Ladybug, and turned her into a dolphin. “Second Chance!”
Time restarted, and Louis shouted. “Ladybug, dive!”
Ladybug dove out of the way, missing the three shots Mermaidia took.
“I’m not going to take it easy on you just because you’re my mother!” Emma shouted. “So let’s show Paris what a real superhero looks like, hmm?”
“Oh you are so grounded when this is over, little lady!” She dodged another blast, and called for her Lucky Charm.
Hugo called for Shelter while she glanced around, looking for the purpose of the tennis racket her Miraculous had bestowed upon her.
Then it dawned on her.
A grounding wasn’t enough for her naughty child. Oh no. This called for the big guns.
The second Hugo’s Shelter faded, she shot out her yo-yo, catching Emma around the arms, and yanked her to lay across her leg. Hugo and Louis peeled the captive starfish off, while Chat took the trident. All the while Mermaidia wriggled around, fighting against the yo-yo string.
“No akuma in the trident, my lady.” Chat Noir shrugged.
“Oh, I’ll get it out of her.” Ladybug raised the tennis racket. “Where’s the akuma at, Emma?”
“This is cheating!”
“Okay, you asked for it.” And Ladybug brought the tennis racket down on her bottom, once, twice, three times before Emma cried out. “Okay okay! It’s in my bracelet! Stop! Stop!”
Chat broke the bracelet, freeing the butterfly, as Ladybug set her crying daughter down in the sand.
She caught and purified the butterfly, and removed everyone from the bank of the river before casting her cure.
Emma Dupain-Cheng returned, pouting, and still rubbing her behind. “I was just trying to help…”
“Where’s your Grandfather?”
“He’s in a conference room at the hotel. But don’t be mad at him, please…”
Before Ladybug could yell more, Isaac and his father approached her. “Uh, Ladybug?”
“Yes?”
“Look, I wanted to—we wanted to apologize. Thank you for rescuing us, and I’m sorry. I guess I had forgotten what it was like having akumas around. You still stopped Hawkmoth, right? Well…until today…”
“Hawkmoth is a friend of ours now,” Ladybug clarified. “He’s paid for his crimes, but today has shown that he hasn’t quite learned the right way to deal with problems. I believe he was well intentioned, but we will be having words.”
Isaac’s father nudged his son. “You want to say anything?”
Isaac shyly looked at the family and admitted, “thank you for inviting to the party. No one invites me to things.”
“Yeah, well, work on your boundary issues, and maybe it’ll happen more often,” said Louis.
“If you guys want to head back to the hotel, I think there’s still time for cake!” Said Chat, with optimism.
—
After the Miraculous cure restored the party, everyone gathered again and lunch was served.
But, the Dupain-Chengs were in the conference room. Marinette and Adrien frowned at their youngest and Gabriel.
“Now, son--” Gabriel began.
“What were you thinking?” Adrien interrupted.
“I was thinking that Paris needed a little reminder of all the hard work you guys did.”
“Yeah, cool,” sniped Marinette. “Except now they think you’re out of retirement, and that’s a huge reminder that we didn’t stop you!”
Gabriel took the brooch off. “Then here. Make it official. Tell them that this akuma was my swan-song and I made it to surrender.”
Marinette took the brooch regardless, and put it in her bag. “I don’t know what I’ll say to the media. They’ll want to know who you are, and if you’re going to prison…and akumatizing your own granddaughter?”
“I told him I was okay with it!” Said Emma. “I knew what I was getting into. It’s not that big of a deal!”
“Not that big of a deal!?”
There was a knock on the door, as Hugo and Louis peeked their heads in. “There you are, Grandfather!”
“Hi boys,” he smiled at them, softly.
The twins pushed passed their parents to stand in front of him, arms crossed, just like Marinette and Adrien.
“What you did was terrible,” Said Louis.
“So awful,” echoed Hugo.
“You could have permanently hurt or traumatized people.”
“Done thousands of dollars of property damage.”
Gabriel sighed. “I know…I just—“ But he was cut off as the boys wrapped him up in a tight hug. “What?”
“Thanks for the coolest present ever!”
“Yeah! Mom gave us our Miraculous, but the chance to use them on a real akuma!?”
“Hey!” Shouted Emma. “I was the akuma! No thanks for me!?”
They gave her a noogie. “Thanks twerp.”
“You’re a twerp!”
Marinette and Gabriel met eyes. He gave a sheepish shrug. “I know I’m bad. But I deeply love my family.”
She then gave up trying to be angry. “Alright fine. I admit it. It was fun to fight an akuma again. But it’s over now!”
Adrien shook his head fondly. “Thanks for meddling dad.”
“Your welcome, son.”
“I want cake!” Hugo shouted.
“Cake time!”
“Yay cake!”
“No cake for Emma. Only broccoli.” Marinette clarified. “You were naughty.”
“Aw man!!”
--
AND THAT’S THE END!
Oh my word this story got AWAY from me! It was only supposed to be maybe 20 chapters when I first started on it? But here we are, a year and a half later, and over 200,000 words! I kinda can’t believe I’m done!
Anyways, thank you all for sticking around through all the heartache. I appreciated every single review and like. And one parting question: What was your favorite part?
#miraculous ladybug#ml#ladybug#chat noir#ladynoir#adrienette#gabriel agreste#fanfiction#longest night#marinette dupain cheng#adrien agreste
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I might make this a tumblr only mini-series of connected oneshots, and I might or might not put them up on AO3 when they are all done. We’ll see how I feel.
I know I submitted this AU to Multifandomscribette, but this is my take on the prompts I gave them. This is not the same AU, and I am not using their headcanons. Just the same basic premise of Marinette being Stephen Strange’s biological daughter.
You know Doctor Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, but this story is about
Lady Strange, the Grand Guardian.
What is with this family and alliteration?!
—*—*—*—*—*
Stephen Strange was a narcissistic, emotionally constipated bastard. But he was rich, well known, and handsome, which counted for a lot when he decided he needed some time to relax, unwind, maybe with another human.
And when Sabine Cheng realized what had happened, that night she had catered for a high society medical conference gala in the States, she vowed to never drink again.
She also vowed to never tell Strange about the child growing in her womb. The only person she ever told about her child’s true origin was Tom Dupain, the man she started dating a month after her chance encounter with Doctor Stephen Strange. Nine months after that, when Marinette was almost a month old, she would propose to Tom in blatant disregard of tradition. She would be waiting for years if she wanted Tom to get up the courage to ask her, and even though it hadn’t been a full year yet Sabine knew what she wanted. Seeing the gentle way Tom held her daughter, their daughter, seeing the way he looked at the little baby as if she hung the stars for him, well that only solidified the little Chinese woman’s love for the french man.
Marinette Dupain-Cheng would not know about her true father’s origin until she was twelve, when a science lecture at school had her asking Sabine who had blue eyes in each of their blood lines.
When Sabine hesitated, Marinette knew instantly that something was wrong. Sabine never hesitated. She was a whirlwind of decisiveness, always knowing what to say and how to act. Hesitation wasn’t a part of her.
Sabine told her everything. How her biological father was someone she only met once, how he was a successful surgeon who had won many medical awards. How he didn’t know she existed.
Of course, Marinette was immediately obsessed. Hurt by her mother’s secrecy, she turned her feelings of betrayal into curiosity and researched everything that there was to research about Stephen Strange. Apparently blue eyes ran on his side of the family. His own were more icy than hers, closer to a blue-gray, but familiar all the same. Both his parents were already dead though, so there went her hope of having another set of grandparents.
Marinette even went so far as to read the research papers he had written, and did follow-up research until she understood as much of it as she could. It helped that Professor Mendeleiev was more than willing to sit down and go over the medical papers with her so they could try to understand it all together.
One day, while Marinette was sewing a new dress, she paused with her needle in the air and stared at her fingers. After that day, she took much more pride than before in how steady her hands were. Her father was a surgeon, it must have been a biological trait. She clung onto anything that connected her to the oh-so mysterious Stephen Strange.
And then came Marinette’s thirteenth birthday. The same day that Stephen Strange was in a car accident and deemed in critical condition.
If Marinette kept an app for American news sources on her phone and set them to alert her if the name of her biological father was mentioned in any reports? Well, her parents didn’t need to know.
She didn’t tell her parents about the reason she was so morose for the rest of the day. She didn’t tell anyone.
She cried herself to sleep when Doctor Stephen Strange was declared to have irreversible nerve damage in his hands, and again when he went missing on a mysterious “vacation” that no media sites seemed to have any information on. She didn’t know why she felt so much connection and pain for someone she had never met, but she couldn’t help it. She would keep researching, keeping her eyes out for any mention of the man online without any luck.
That is, until Master Fu and the Miraculous entered her life. Slowly, she began to neglect her obsession with her biological father. Her passing crush on Adrien Agreste even faded away, never having much traction to begin with because of her overlying concern for the father that didn’t even know he had a daughter.
When Marinette was fourteen, the city of Paris was flooded and she had to swim through the quickly bloating bodies of the dead in order to defeat an Akuma. She reversed the damage and everyone who died was resurrected with no memory of their demise, but Marinette would never forget. All it took was a glimpse of the wrong face on the streets and she would be overcome with a panic attack, with the sight of glassy eyes and blue faces.
That was when Hawkmoth’s attacks picked up in intensity. When people began to die during Akuma attacks more frequently. When Marinette stopped sleeping in quite so much.
Her obsession over her father was a mere footnote by then, something she would idly look into on her ever increasingly rare free time with no success.
When Marinette was fifteen years, six months, two weeks, and two days old, Master Fu died. Marinette assumed the alias of Lady Strange, alongside her identity of Ladybug, so that the Miraculous wielders could contact her and know she was the new Guardian without knowing that she was also their leader in the field.
On the one year anniversary of Lady Strange being the Grand Guardian of the Miraculous, there was a worldwide magical disturbance.
Unlike Fu, Marinette did not limit herself to reacting to Miraculous problems.
—*—*—*—*—*
When Stephen glided back down from the equivalent of thousands of years bargaining and dying with Dormammu, he expected Hong Kong to be in a mess. It had been, from what he remembered of the scene before he created the time loop.
But it wasn’t. Instead, the streets looked as if no damage at all had been created. Kaecilius and his remaining zealots were tied up, quite literally, in what looked like string and hung upside down from a lamp post. Sitting down on the curb of the sidewalk and giving him a dangerously sharp glare was a young woman in a spotted costume, a mask over her face. When Strange realized he could not get any of her features to stick in his memory, he realized what she was.
Another magic user, but different from a Sorcerer. Her Neptune blue eyes bore into him with an intensity he was wholly unprepared for, but had no problem baring. After dying almost a million times, a guy tends to grow a backbone of vibranium.
Wong and Mordo stood on either side of the girl, both at a respectful distance. Wong had this wide-eyed look on his face, so much more expressive than usual that it caught the new Sorcerer Supreme off guard. Wong looked… awed?
Mordo, on the other hand, was regarding the girl with a look of barely disguised disdain and distrust. That was in character though, so Stephen didn’t pay it much mind. Instead, he walked over even as his bargain with Dormammu kicked in and Kaecilius’s cult was banished to the Dark Dimension.
“You reversed the damage, then?” He asked without beating around the bush, glancing down briefly to assure that the Eye was, indeed, still on him. It was. The girl stood up, her eyes continuing to blaze with an unknown soup of emotion.
“I did,” she confirmed easily. It wasn’t until he stopped only a few feet away from her that the sorcerer noticed how small she was. The only detail his mind allowed to stick with him besides that fact was that she also looked young. Too young to have to deal with a mess like this. “You might not know of me. The Temple Of Guardians made a deal centuries ago that all records of their existence and our own magic be removed from any Sorcerer sanctums.”
“The temple that appeared in Tibet out of nowhere more than a year ago?” Strange asked, eyebrow raised. “I remember the Ancient One briefly mentioning how much of a hassle it was to hide their reappearance and teleport the temple’s location somewhere new. I was under the impression that all the members of that temple have been in a pocket dimension separate from this reality for almost two hundred years.”
“They have,” the girl confirmed with a nod. “But before that, one of the Guardians escaped that fate. He became the Grand Guardian, and was my teacher until he passed last year. He named me the new Grand Guardian to take his place,” she turned, looking at something that Stephen couldn’t see. “I have illusions keeping us from being seen by the crowd, but it would be better if we took this inside the sanctum,” she said, nodding her head to the Hong Kong Sanctum’s door behind them. Strange simply nodded, more than willing to distract himself from his immeasurably long torture by indulging his curiosity. If this girl showed up and went out of her way to repair the damage the sorcerers and Kaecilius caused, then he wanted to know why.
“Wait,” Mordo barked, walking up to have a heated discussion with Strange that ended in the former storming off. Stephen knew he should be concerned about his former friend’s desertion, but he couldn’t muster up the energy for it yet. Focusing on the mysterious girl in a ladybug suit was an easier topic for his exhausted mind to latch onto.
When they got inside, the Sorcerer Supreme saw that she had even reversed the damage in the building. He saw a few scattered disciples rubbing their heads and looking around in confusion from their spots crouched on the floor. Stephen was almost certain he had seen those same people as corpses before.
The ladybug-spotted girl had scarcely removed her gaze from him for even a second, and easily picked up on the older man’s train of thought.
“My powers reversed all the damage I could handle, including physical wounds and death,” she told him. Strange blinked.
“That explains why I thought you all looked odd. Your clothes are spotless and you don’t look like you’ve fought at all,” he directed that comment to Wong, who merely nodded. “But that doesn’t explain how you can do such a thing. I’ve been intensely studying magic and magic theory for the past almost three and a half years, and I haven’t come across any healing spell that can be this effective without the subject of the healing themselves helping to work the power through their body. I know you are not a sorcerer like we are, but what exactly is your magic? Who are the Guardians? And who exactly are you?”
The girl pursed her lips, waiting until the two older men led her to the still-wrecked tea room. Her power hadn’t been able to reach that far when she had to focus on reviving so many people without the regular Cure. That only worked on victims of Miraculous magic, what she used on the Hong Kong streets and the Sorcerers was a more advanced usage of Tikki’s powers that she learned from both Fu and her periodic visits to the Tibet temple.
“The Guardians are a group of monks dedicated to the protection and distribution of Miraculous, which is essentially magic jewelry. I would normally go on to say how this might sound unbelievable, but you have a very similar pendant around your neck right now,” she pointed out once they all sat and Wong conjured some tea for them all. Stephen tensed at her mention of the Eye of Agamotto, his eyes narrowing. Did she..?
“I know what is inside the Eye,” she confirmed his silent thought, her voice soft but firm. “And I don’t care about it in the slightest. It is probably a good reference point for my explanation though. At the birth of the universe—“
“The Stones came into existence, each one representing and controlling a core aspect of reality,” Strange interrupted impatiently. “I am the Sorcerer Supreme, girl, I already know that.”
The young female rolled her eyes, huffing. “If you listened patiently, you would know that the story you were told is only partially true,” she snapped back with false patience. “The Stones were not the only things of great power to be created during the birth of the universe. Kwami, the first living beings to be born, were also created. They are each living representations of abstract concepts, some of which overlap with the powers of the Stones. The first to be born is the Kwami of Creation. She is essentially the goddess of creation itself, the living embodiment of that very term in every way. She is the source of my abilities, she lends me her power as I am her chosen Wielder. It is that same power of creation that allowed me to essentially counteract the destruction that was caused today, by having a condensed form of her power combat the direct source of the destruction and nullify it. The second Kwami to come into existence is her counterpart and the only one equal to her in power, the Kwami of destruction. There are a lot more, including the Kwami of illusion that used her power to keep us from being seen outside. And the Kwami Of time, which allowed me to experience the time loop you created,” the girl’s eyes sharpened again, boring into his own. “I left it after the equivalent of a few weeks, when I realized I couldn’t join you and do anything to help. The Kwami Of Time is about two-thirds as powerful as the Stone by itself, and there are more than double the amount of Kwamis as there are Infinity Stones,” she took a deep breath. “My job as Grand Guardian is protecting all of them, and distributing the jewelry they are bound to as necessary to combat world or reality threatening events.”
Strange remained quiet after that, drinking in the information and doing his best to wrap his head around it. Perhaps this young woman wouldn’t mind telling him more at a later date, especially seeing as they held equivalent ranking in two separate secret magical organizations. His eyes trailed down to a necklace she was wearing.
“How many of these pieces of jewelry—“
“Miraculous,” She corrected. “That is what they are called.”
“... Miraculous, then. How many are you capable of wielding at once, if they are so similar in strength to a Stone?” Wond asked, crossing his arms. The pigtailed girl leaned back from her spot sitting on the ground with them, humming in thought for a second as she decided what to tell them. A glance at Stephen seemed to make up her mind.
“Creation and Destruction hold equal power to a Stone. The Miraculous one stage lower than that hold four-fifths the power of a Stone. The last tier, where the Time Miraculous sits, is two-thirds,” she told them from memory. “I can wield Illusion, which is on the second tier, along with two third-their, and both Creation and Destruction at the same time,” she admitted. “But it saps a lot of my energy and I rather not ever do that again, if you don’t mind. I can wield all of the Miraculous though, since all of the Kwamis like me and are loyal. I can wear any three at a time, and I can switch between them as quickly as I need to.”
Strange really needed some sleep. Five thousand year’s worth of sleep would be nice. He ran a hand over his forehead, wondering who in the world gave this much responsibility and power to a child.
“One last question, and then you can spend the night if you wish, we’ll begin reconstruction of all the Sanctums in the morning,” Stephen spoke, forcing his back to straighten and his eyes to meet the girl’s. “You never answered it, actually. Who are you?”
The girl's mouth twitched in the first semblance of a smile he had seen on her yet.
“When I am in this transformation, I am Ladybug the hero of Paris,” she said with a grin. “Spots off.”
A soft pink glow ran down her body, very similar to the ring of power that sling rings produced to make portals. It left behind an adorable teenage girl with blue-black hair pulled back into pigtails, and striking blue eyes. She was clearly of Asian descent, but there was something else very familiar about the sharpness of her jaw or the stubbornness in her lip.
“My real name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. However, I go by an alias whenever I act as Grand Guardian, so that there is an extra layer of secrecy to protect me and my loved ones. I created that alias based on my biological father, who was never told that I was even conceived,” she said meaningfully, never losing eye contact with Stephen. His eyebrows furrowed.
“That’s pitiful, but what does—“
“My alias is Lady Strange.”
Wong barked out a short laugh before he forcibly covered his mouth, his eyes filled with sadistic amusement as he watched Strange’s reaction. The elder Strange, that is.
The new leader of the Sorcerers opened and closed his mouth like a fish, completely caught off guard. He looked over to Wong.
“Is there a spell to test paternity?” He asked warily. Marinette’s smile fell a bit, but Wong nodded.
A few flashes of orange light and two green ‘99% Match’ results later, Strange let his head fall into his hands.
“Alright, Marinette,” he finally managed to mumble through the slightly trembling appendages still covering his face. “I just spent thousands of years in a time loop with the Lord of Chaos, my back aches, my head aches, I will deal with this in the morning. Or whenever I wake up. Figures my own blood relation would end up in a position of extreme magical power, must be genetic. I still have questions, but sleep comes first. Don’t expect me to be a good parent. I really need sleep.”
Marinette just giggled, standing up and helping her father to his feet with surprising ease. “Just tell me where to go and I can drop you off in your room. No more magic for the rest of the day, you’re clearly spent. And as long as you make an effort, I’ll be fine. But don’t expect to ignore me and I’ll just go away, I have ways to track you to the ends of the universe and across the multiverse and time itself, and I will not hesitate.”
“Yep, she’s your daughter alright.”
“Sleep, Wong. It’s good for the brain.”
#mlb x marvel#doctor stephen strange#marinette dupain cheng#miraculous ladybug#doctor strange#no romantic pairing yet#Only familial pairing right now
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A River in Egypt 14- Denial
It’s Only Natural Masterlist A River in Egypt Masterlist
Author’s Note: A series of snapshots from the It’s Only Natural universe, all told from Sam’s POV.
Summary: After losing Dean in the fight with Amara, Sam and Y/n are kidnapped by the British Men of Letters and tortured. Sam seizes the opportunity to get what he's wanted for years.
Pairing: Sam x Sister!reader
Word count: 4663
Story Warnings: torture, pain, incest (sister wincest), exhibitionism, 18+ HERE BE SEX! DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!!, oral sex (fem rec), unprotected sex, creampie
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I hate this. I hate that I can’t devote all of my time to finding Y/n. I hate that Dean is all caught up in Amara and I hate that Y/n ran away again and I hate that...I kissed her. I kissed her and then she ran away. I hate that I just let her leave. I should have talked to her. I should have apologized for kissing her. I should-
I call her again. She doesn’t answer. Months of not answering. I hate this.
Dean keeps snarking at me about calling her, discouraging me from trying to find her. If he would just shut up and let me! Let me find her, let me bring her home! Let me apologize for being half the reason she left. Well, not half. Dean was more than half. Dean was 90%. Dean was more than that, even, because then there’s the whole thing where he knocked her up! On purpose! And then abandoned her!
Ya know...if she wasn’t a Winchester...if she wasn’t the strongest of us, I’d have been worried she might do something stupid. But she has never been the type to do that stupid thing. She’s the type to run off to get her head straight. She’s the type to come home eventually. She never has been able to stay away from us for too long.
But she seems determined to stay gone this time and all my searching isn’t finding and I hate that Dean was right that I wouldn’t be able to find her. Even when we lose Cas and Dean starts helping me, we still can’t find her. She does have amazing skills. Why don’t we lean on them more often instead of leaning on her emotionally, leaning on her physically?
We are the shittiest brothers ever.
And of course, it’s Chuck that brings her home. I couldn’t find her, again , and a higher power brings her home. Dean starts in on Chuck because of course he needs to air his damn grievances and Y/n only takes issue with Chuck’s qualifications of our misery. She gets up to make herself a drink and I follow her. She looks good, considering the fact that it’s been almost a year since I’ve seen her...and considering she’s upset.
I put my hand on her back to comfort her and, of course, Dean has to put his two cents in about that. “You should keep your hands to yourself,” he says as he sets a beer on the Map Table in front of me and I look up at him. He’s not angry. If it weren’t for Amara, he’d be furious that I touched her. “Y/n. She’s probably not in a good place for that.”
“How would you know?” I snap at him. He hasn’t even talked to her. He sits down next to me and takes a drink of his beer.
“Look, I’m just sayin’, Sam...it’s been a good eleven months or so since you’ve seen her, maybe you should ease into trying to replace me,” he reasons.
Replace him? As what, the brother forcing a baby on her? “I’m not trying to replace you, Dean.” I pick up the beer. “Unlike you, I’m just caring for her.”
“Caring for her doesn’t require touching her at every opportunity,” Dean says, shaking his head. I look at the tabletop and bite the inside of my lip. It's not my fault. I just wanted to comfort her. “We care about each other and we barely touch unless one of us is dying.”
I roll my eyes. It's like he doesn't even realize how upset she was back there. Of course, he doesn't know, does he? The losses that Chuck said were necessary...what he lost and he doesn't even know. "That's...not true, Dean. We touch each other all the time...and Y/n was upset, okay? What Chuck was saying was-"
“Dude, come on, you were feeling her up in your feminist way.” Why does he say that like it’s an insult? “Shut up. Don’t think I forgot you making out with her the night before she left, and I didn’t forget the collar either.” The collar. It took me a while to remember the collar. Guess I’ve been jealous of Dean’s connection with Y/n for a lot longer than we were using her to combat the Mark. I take a drink of my beer and clear my throat.
“Look. For Y/n’s good, she should probably not start anything else with her brother, ya know? Can you imagine how bad things coulda gone if she’d stayed with me?” Yeah, Dean, I can. “She’s better off with someone outside of our family.”
I scoff and shake my head. “What, you’re actually gonna let her be with someone without forcing them out of her life?”
Dean sighs and makes a clicking noise. “Yeah, I deserve that...and I got no good excuse for all the guys I blocked from her, but that’s not what I’m doing here.” He leans back in his chair and looks at me. “Look, we both know that what I did to her is...inexcusable, right? We both know I should never have touched her and it’s sick that I wanted to for so long. Just like we both know it’s sick that you want to.”
How dare he judge me? After everything he did? It doesn’t matter if I want it, I’ve never done anything other than kiss her. Even when I didn’t have a fucking soul, all I did was put a collar on her. He raped her and I might have gotten off on it but-
“It’s the best thing, for both of you, for you to go jack it to some of that porn you think no one knows you have and stop thinking about Y/n.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head. Why does he always bring up me masturbating? “Not everything is about sex, Dean. I’m just trying to be there for her. That’s all.”
“Okay, Sammy,” he says like he doesn’t believe me. “Keep it that way. S’all I’m sayin’.”
There’s a million miles of subtext in that.
But at least she’s back. That’s the important part. The next morning, I go to check on her and talk to her about Grandma Millie. I end up sitting next to her on her bed as she tells me about the postcards that Dad used to send his mom, how he signed them with ‘Johnny’. And then she leans her head against my shoulder. It’s so nice. I missed her so much over the past year. I’m so happy to have her here where I can feel her and smell the roses on her hair.
“I’m tired, Sammy. I haven’t been home a day and I’m exhausted,” she admits.
“Have you talked to Dean?” I ask. Not that talking to him is gonna change anything.
“He said he’s sorry. He doesn’t even know what he’s sorry for.”
Of course not. I didn’t tell him what he needed to be sorry for...and I’m guessing neither has she. “You haven’t told him about the baby, have you?”
“It’s not like he would care,” she snaps.
With Amara still alive that’s probably right, but I say, “You don’t know that,” to make her feel a bit better.
“It’s not...I only...it was really early first trimester, Sam. I couldn’t have been more than six weeks. I...I only took the test right after Charlie’s funeral and...the Stynes…” She clears her throat and pulls away from me to look in my eyes. Her eyes are all watery and sad. “I don’t know why it hurts so much.”
She’s been hurting over this for a year and she’s been beating herself up for how she feels, too? “Because you created life, Y/n, and that was taken from you. It’s allowed to hurt.” I reach out and run the back of my knuckles down her cheek. I just wanna make her feel better. “ You’re allowed to hurt.”
I wanna kiss her, but the thought has barely crossed my mind to start leaning in when she goes stiff and pulls away. “Th-thank you, Sammy.”
I rub my hands together as I stand. Yeah, probably wouldn’t be a good idea. Maybe Dean’s right. Probably Dean’s right. “You know, i-if you need anything, I’m here,” I tell her and she nods so I just leave. It’s a bad idea to try to get close to her right now. It’s a bad idea.
Especially since she seems determined to sacrifice herself. Which, thankfully, she fails at. Every part of our plan to take down the Darkness fails. So we have to come up with another option...which puts Dean on the chopping block. This seems like it’s the...the last time. The end. Especially when Dean kisses Y/n right there in front of Cas, Crowley, and Rowena.
“Sam, Y/n, I’m so sorry,” Cas says as we enter the bunker. “If you want to talk...I’m here if either of you need anything.”
“Hello, hello,” a happy British voice calls out across the War Room. A well-dressed woman slams her hand into a banishing sigil on the wall, sending Cas away. Y/n and I call his name and reach for our pistols but the woman raises a gun before we can. “Don’t. Y/n and Sam Winchester. Toni Bevell,” she introduces. “Men of Letters, London Chapterhouse.” What? There’s still Men of Letters?
“Oh you won’t have heard of me...us. We’re very traditional. Keep out of the way, keep to our studies.”
“You, um…” I look over at Y/n, who looks just as confused as I feel, then look back to the intruder and shake my head. “What?”
“They sent me to take you in.”
“To take us in?” Y/n asks.
“Assuming the world didn’t end, and...yay!” she says. I am not in the mood for this shit.
“Look, lady,” I start, stepping toward her.
“We’ve been watching you, Sam. What you’ve done, the damage you’ve caused...archangels, Leviathans, the Darkness, and now, well...the old men have decided enough’s enough. I mean, let’s face it. You’re just jumped-up hunters playing with things you don’t understand and doing more harm than good.” I almost growl at that. We didn’t ask for the archangels or the Leviathans or the damn Darkness. We didn’t even ask to be hunters. “Now, where’s Dean?” she finishes.
“Dead,” I answer, focusing on my anger so that she doesn’t see the sadness in my face. “Listen, lady, I don’t know who the hell you are or what the hell you want-” I start advancing on her again.
“Stop,” she demands, but I don’t listen.
“Put the gun down,” I snap.
“I said stop,” she reminds me.
“We all know you’re not gonna pull the trigger,” I say, but she does. Y/n screams when the bitch’s gun goes off, bullet impacting my thigh. I hit the floor, Y/n drops next to me to put pressure on me.
“I’m going to retrieve something to use as a tourniquet,” the intruder says to Y/n as she tucks her gun into a holder on her hip. “I assume you wish Sam to survive. Don’t try anything stupid.”
“You bitch,” Y/n growls at her.
“Oh, you’ll be needing a gag too, then.” She starts to walk away as I take deep breaths to keep my pain level down. “Bloody hunters.”
“You’re gonna be okay, Sammy,” Y/n whispers.
I fucking hope so.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A cattle prod wakes me up. Y/n and I are bound to wooden chairs, hands cuffed behind our backs, ankles cuffed to the chair legs. I look over at Y/n to make sure she’s in better shape than me before I look around the room. We’re in a storm cellar. Nothing unique in Kansas.
“Be a good boy,” the woman with the cattle prod says as Toni Bevell walks down the stairs.
“You,” I bite out, pulling at my restraints.
She sits down in a chair across the cellar from us and flips open a notebook, taking the cap off of a fancy pen. “Now, Y/n, Sam...let’s begin.”
“Toni Bevell, London Chapterhouse.” Bitch. Stupid British cunt. Broke into my home, shot me, knocked me and my sister out.
“That’s right.”
“So, you’re what. You’re English Men of Letters?” Y/n asks.
“British,” Toni corrects.
“Right. Big distinction,” Y/n says rolling her eyes.
“You would think that you, the smarter Winchesters, would care about that difference.”
“Well, you don’t sound Welsh, so…” Y/n is such a snarky bitch. I love her.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“Does it matter?” she taunts me.
“Just wondering how far we’re gonna have to walk back to town after we kill you,” I answer. I nod at the woman in black who shocked us. “And her. But you first.”
She obviously doesn’t believe we’re gonna murder her. “Yes, well, before you murder us all, we do have a few questions about you, your brother, Hunters in America, and how you saved the sun.”
Really? “Right. You shoot me, kidnap us, but yeah, we’re happy to help,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“I didn’t want to hurt you, Sam. You gave me no choice. And, well, I could say it was never supposed to go this way, but you’re...you . It was always going to go this way.”
“And you know me?” I snap.
“We do,” she confirms. “We’ve been watching you and the twins for years. Ever since you almost ended the world the first time. We knew all about Lucifer, the angels falling, the Mark of Cain and its various...side effects.” I look over at Y/n, who looks so embarrassed. Fuck Toni for making Y/n feel like that.
“Then where were you?” Y/n asks.
“Fair question. See, some of us wanted to get involved but the old men wouldn’t allow it. Thought we were overstepping our bounds. After all of this business with the Darkness, even they have to agree...things need to change. And while you might not believe this, Winchesters, we’re here to help.”
Of course they are. “Yeah, no. I-I can tell,” I say sarcastically.
“I want to apologize for locking you up. You’re dangerous--to others and yourselves--but if you answer my questions, you both walk right out that door. I promise.”
I look over at Y/n. I wanna resist, but based on what I know of these assholes, they’re going to hurt us. I don’t want to fight back if Y/n isn’t up to the pain. But she’s the strongest of us. She tells me with a look that she understands and agrees that we’ll get through whatever they throw at us together. “Pass,” I answer for us.
“Sam,” Toni scolds me. She doesn’t know who she’s dealing with.
“You can ask me any kind of question you want. The answer’s gonna be the exact same: Screw you. You wanna get mad? You wanna get mean? I’ve been tortured by the Devil himself. So you? You’re just an accent in a pantsuit. What can you do to me?” I see Y/n gawking at me from the corner of my eye. She looks impressed...and maybe a little turned on.
“And what about your sister?” Toni asks, capping her pen. “Dear Y/n here hasn’t ever been to Hell. Her only interactions with Lucifer and the archangels has been tangential. She’s never been ‘tortured by the Devil himself’. Do you think she could handle it?”
“Screw. You,” Y/n says with all the spite and confidence of a Winchester. Damn, that’s sexy. The woman in black turns on a cold tap and water starts raining down on us. “I can handle anything you throw at us.”
“A cold shower? That’s your play?” I scoff and shake the water from my hair. We start shaking but we don’t complain. We don’t say anything except, “Screw you.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I wake up on the floor, out of my restraints. My burned feet are wrapped. My whole body hurts. I’ve taken a beating...and so has Y/n. I’m proud of how much pain she stood up to. When I see her on the floor on the opposite side of her chair, fear that she’s succumbed to the pain overwhelms me. I just lost Dean. I can’t lose her too. I shake her, call her name, check her pulse. She’s alive, but her breathing is shallow. I need her to wake up.
“Y/n. Y/n, you need to wake up,” I whisper desperately, grasping at her face.
“Um ah-righ,” she slurs and I let out a sigh of relief. She’s not out of the woods until she opens her eyes.
“Hey, hey! I can’t lose you too!” I shake her slightly.
“You’re really loud,” she mumbles, a little clearer, but still not awake.
“Yeah. Yeah, I know but you need to wake up.”
Her eyelids flutter over her gorgeous green eyes for a moment before they slide up and she focuses on me. “I tol’ you I’m okay, Sammy,” she says, trying to sit up. I help her and look over her. “Why aren’t we tied up?”
Good question. “We passed out, both ended up on the floor.” I point at the camera on the ceiling in the corner. “They’re watching us from that camera. I’m not sure the game here, but they definitely shouldn’t have-” My eyes go wide as she her whole body goes stiff and she screams like she did when they took the torch to her toes. “Whoa! W-what, what happened?”
“I-I don’t-” She shakes her head, looking up at me with panic in her eyes. “It’s-” Her next scream cuts off her words and she clamps it down but then she just starts whimpering. “It’s like I’m on fire, inside is on fire.”
I start looking her over. A hex bag, a sigil, something that’s causing this pain...a needle mark? I pull her hair off of her shoulder and run my fingertips over a pissed-off mark on her shoulder. “Needle mark. She injected you with something.”
“T-they...they’re trying to break you by b-breaking mmme…” She’s probably right, but I know she won’t break. “I’m the softer target.”
I shake my head and look down at her. She’s not soft. “Nah. You aren’t...you’re strong and...you can-”
She lets out a disbelieving breath. “Only time I’ve been tortured is when Gordon had me, and that--that wasn’t…” She whines and scrunches her face up. Gordon tortured her because of me. Toni’s torturing her because of me. “Hng...that was nothing.”
“You’re not gonna break, Y/n. You’re a Winchester.” Dean did thirty years worth of Hell torture before he broke. I...don’t even know how long Lucifer had me. She can do this.
“I’ve always been the weak-” she starts and I can’t hear her talking about herself like that so I lay her back on the floor and look down into her eyes.
“Not weak. Sensitive, beautiful, amazing.” Perfect. Gorgeous. Sexy. Fuck, how can she look so sexy after a night of torture and days of emotional bullshit and mourning? I look down her body, her perfect, curvy body. I’m fucked in the head, but...I want her. We might die here and I want her. Just once. “Just gotta distract you from the pain, sis,” I whisper as I pull her shirt up. Get her through this until whatever they hit her with wears off. I’m drawn to the burn marks on her abs from the cattle prod and I run my fingers over them. “Gonna make it better...and then we’re gonna make London Chapterhouse pay.”
“Sam, w-what are-” she starts, but I can’t let her talk me outta this. I have to taste her just this once. I lean down and kiss her burn and she gasps. I’ve heard her make that noise for Dean. I wanna make her make all the noises I’ve heard her make for Dean. I pull her shirt up over her bra and start mouthing at her boobs, wetting her bra, but I don’t care because her nipples are poking through the cotton. “Sam,” she whines, and holy shit, my name has never sounded so good.
“I love how my name sounds on your lips. Can’t wait to hear you scream it,” I admit, grinding my dick against her pussy. She grabs my shoulders like she’s trying to hold on for dear life. “Fuck, I’ve dreamed of this. Was so jealous of Dean.”
I start licking at her neck, the column of her throat. I use a little bit of teeth because I wanna mark her as mine. Just this once. She’s breathing heavy and it’s amazing. “I...Sam, please,” she begs as I pop the button on her jeans. She’s begging me. Fuck.
“So fuckin’ needy, sis. Gonna be too easy to get you off when you’re already begging for it.” I slide my hand into her jeans and rub at her clit. She cries out in pain and pleasure and I try to balance it a little more toward pleasure by rubbing a little harder and ramping up the dirty talk. “You’re so fuckin’ wet, Y/n. Soaking your panties. That all for me?”
“Sam…” she whines and that’s still the best thing I’ve ever heard.
“Don’t worry. Gonna take care of you,” I promise, pulling her pants and underwear down and off of her left leg so I can spread her thighs and hook her knees over my shoulders. I kiss my way up her inner thigh. I wanna go slow, but I’m so fucking eager and scared that the British Men of Letters might stop me. I kiss her pussy and her taste coats my lips. She tastes amazing. No wonder Dean couldn’t help but eat her out at inappropriate times. “Taste so fuckin’ good.”
“Fuck, Sam, please,” she begs and how can I say ‘no’? I start licking her lips and sliding my tongue into her slit, slurping at her delicious juices and listening to her gasps and moans. When she twists her fingers in my hair, I fuck my tongue into her pussy. She starts squirming and I put my hands on her stomach to hold her in place. “Sam, I need to--Sam, please, I need to cum, please, please, plea-” I make her scream when I move my mouth to suck her clit into my mouth.
The noise she makes is just...the best fucking thing ever, and I am hard as stone and I need to fuck her, now. I lean back and start undressing as I lick at her taste on my lips and chin. “Think they’re still watching? Huh?” I ask as I carefully pull my pants down. Her eyes go a bit wide when she sees my cock. “Or do you think they averted their proper English, sorry, British eyes when the video stream became incest porn?”
She tears her eyes away from my dick to the camera in the corner. Maybe I shouldn’t have reminded her that it was there. “Uh, I...I don’t-”
“I hope they’re still watching,” I say, carefully laying my body over hers. “Want them to see you cum all over my cock.” Her jaw drops at that. She doesn’t know just how dirty I can be. She’s gonna see before we’re done here. I lean down to kiss her, sliding the head of my cock to her entrance. She whimpers as another wave of fire hits her and I start pushing into her, French kissing her as I slowly get into her.
I’m big. Bigger than Dean, I know that much, almost certainly bigger than Jesse. I’m probably the biggest she’s ever taken, so I know that I have to go slow. But my big fucking dick is definitely distracting her...and that’s why I started this, right? I wanted to get her through this pain, but there’s no reason we can’t enjoy ourselves.
We’re kissing each other, hands buried in each other’s hair, as we wait for her to adjust. It always takes women a few minutes to get used to me...but eventually, I gotta move and when I do? When I start rolling my hips, rocking against her...I’ve never felt anything like it. I drop my head to her shoulder and take deep breaths. “Fuck, Y/n. I’ve wanted this for so fucking long. Since Dean was in Purgatory.” Since she was watching over me in Kermit. Since I was dreaming of fucking her with that collar on. “Used to fuck Amelia, picturing you,” I say as I start thrusting into her. I pick up speed a bit faster than I normally would but I’m so eager.
She grabs at my shoulders, fingernails digging in and I groan. “Sam! Fuck! Slow d-down,” she begs. Too fast, I guess.
I slow a bit, looking into her eyes as I fuck her. She’s got the most amazing body. “God, you feel so fucking amazing, Y/n. You’re squeezing my cock so good. I’m gonna fucking cum.” I grab her breast and tweak her nipple, loving the way it makes her clench around me. She’s exactly what I imagined she’d be. Perfect. “You gonna cum for me, sis? I wanna see your face. I’ve heard you cum so many times, I wanna see. I wanna feel it.”
I reach between us and rub my thumb over her clit and her nails dig in more as she whines, “Sammy.” Her body goes stiff as I start fucking her harder. She’s so fucking close. I’m gonna get to make her cum. “Fuckfuckfuck,” she rambles as her eyes roll back and her jaw drops a bit. Her breath catches on her orgasm and so does mine. I’ve never seen her look so beautiful, so blissful and heavenly.
“So beautiful,” I whisper. I kiss her again as my own orgasm approaches, pain shooting through me as my burned toes curl. I grunt into her mouth as I fill her with cum, gasping in a breath as my head goes woozy. That was everything I thought it was gonna be. Holy shit. I kiss her neck and jawline as I pull out of her. She hasn’t whimpered in a few minutes. “How’s the pain?”
“Better,” she says, stretching her neck a bit. “I think...whatever they injected me with, it’s wearing off.”
I lean away from her, get up on my forearm. I laugh as I look down at her red cheeks and sweaty forehead. “Or maybe I fucked it out of you.” I smirk as I pull her shirt down.
“Yeah. Maybe. My spirits are higher in the very least,” she says sitting up. She smiles at me for a minute before a sadness takes her eyes. “We’re gonna get out of this, right? That wasn’t a ‘Last Night on’-”
“No,” I cut her off as we start getting dressed. Her abandonment issues are huge. “That was a first of many. Next time, it’ll be better. Neither of us will be in pain.”
She shrugs and stands and I’m kinda proud of the way her legs are shaking. “Maybe a little bit of pain isn’t too bad.”
Dean was right? She likes pain. That means I don’t have to hold back with her. Perfect. She’s so fucking perfect. I smile at her. “You’re a little freaky, aren’t you?”
“Says the exhibitionist who just came inside his big sister,” she snaps back.
I chuckle. “Got me there.” It’s hot that she’s got my cum dripping out of her right now. “Let’s see if we can get outta here, huh?” She nods and we start looking around the cellar for weapons and a way out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Kitchen Sink - @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @wasabiwitteks @rainbowkisses31 @rissbennett @mariekoukie6661 @officiallyunofficialperson @dolphincliffs @mrs-meghan-winchester @gayspacenerd @foxyjwls007 @ilovefanfic86 @marvelfansworld @f-yeahfandoms @wonderlandfandomkingdom @hhiggs @sev3nruby @hobby27 @paintballkid711 @divadinag @thewhiterabbit42 @fantasymyth-1 @queenoftheunderdark @cosicas-cuquis @superfanficnatural @letsby @supernatural-bellawinchester @onethirstyunicorn @swinchester27 @chalicia @sunnyroadtrips @screechingartisancashbailiff @death-unbecomes-you @dayasvalkyrie
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Telephone Line
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Word Count: 1,449
Warnings: pretty sad ngl but not angst, mentions of death, mentions of cancer, these warnings sound bad but i promise its just kinda sad lol
A/N: ngl even i dont know where this came from lol but ill prob make a pt 2? if the idea i have strikes enough material for another part. enjoy anyways tho!
MAIN MASTERLIST
A deep orange hue shines through the cracks of his blinds as Bucky looks at the new shiny exterior of his new iPhone. Being too reckless on a mission led him to a cell phone cracked in two, resulting in him having to spend four hours at the Apple store all the way in Manhattan, quite a ways away from his apartment upstate.
Low trumpets flow softly through the speakers of his record player, a bold blue box that Sharon gifted him this year for his birthday. He hums to Marvin Gaye as he goes through the device in front of him, setting up account after account, typing in password after password. Gaye was a few decades after his time, but he won’t let it show in front of Sam how much he enjoys his music.
He downloads the mindless puzzle games he had on his previous phone and is thankful that the contacts that were in his old phone were able to be transferred for him.
He locks the phone and sets it aside before taking out the small sketchbook from the drawer in his desk. He also grabs a pencil from the cup sitting on the corner of the wood and flips his book open to a fresh page. A new hobby Bucky’s picked up since Steve’s passing.
His real passing. Not the one everyone sold to the world in order for him to live the rest of his life in peace in a cabin far away, probably crowded in trees and flowers; perhaps the house is where a rainbow begins or where the sky rains golden droplets. Bucky wouldn’t know, he never visited after seeing Steve as an old man after he returned the stones.
There wasn’t anger; Bucky and Steve spoke about his plans before he left and Bucky was happy for him, he was finally getting the life he deserved after so much time spent doing the “right” thing, and not what he wanted. It was a situation of feeling… weird and awkward around this new Steve. It was a completely different Steve with different experiences, different memories. A family. Kids and grandkids and great-grandkids. Photos probably hung on the walls of the house of people he wouldn’t recognize. He always wondered what happened to him in Steve's timeline. In other words, he wonders if Steve rescued him from Hydra and spared him the eighty years of torture. He wonders if there’s any pictures of him in Steve’s house. For Bucky, it became, “I’ll go visit him another day,” until, well, there weren’t any more chances.
A sketch of what he can remember Times Square to look like from this afternoon appears on the paper. Rough lines shaping out tall buildings and people, small squares to outline the pavement, bigger boxes to indicate the shapes of the numerous cars that filled the area. He reaches for his box of colored pencils in the side-drawer of the desk when the generic ringtone of his new phone belts out loudly.
A number that isn’t saved into his phone appears on the screen. A Brooklyn area code. Maybe all the contacts didn’t transfer themselves.
“Hello,” Bucky answers after swiping his right pointer finger along the slide bar.
A hitch of feminine breath is heard before a few seconds of silence, before the three beeps signaling the caller hung up. Probably an accident.
Bucky goes to pick up his pencil again before the tone is heard once more, the same number on the screen. An eyebrow quirks upwards and he answers the phone again.
“...Hello?” Bucky says once more. Again, he’s met with silence before being hung up on. Maybe not an accident, maybe a prank caller. I’ve had the phone for maybe six minutes and this is already happening.
The same number calls for a third time and Bucky debates even answering this time. He lets it ring three times before answering.
“Hello?” He asks, met with silence. “Listen, I’m not in the mood for prank callers, so if you don’t mind-”
“Who is this?” A quiet feminine voice finally answers through the speaker against his ear.
“Who is- What do you mean who is this? Lady, you called me first!” Bucky responds, already exasperated with the conversation.
“How did you get this phone number?” She asks, voice shakier than the first time she spoke.
“I got a new phone and they gave it to me? How else do you get phone numbers?”
“No, no, no. You don’t understand. This-this is my husband's number. It can’t be your new number!” The woman responds, voice cracking this time.
“Okay, okay, hey, relax. Maybe there was a mistake? Maybe your husband received a different phone number?” Bucky offers, not really wanting to play Tech Support as he draws to wind down his day before dinner.
“No! There wasn’t a mistake, my-my husband is dead! This was his phone number and-and-and I call it everyday once I-I get out of work! How did you get this number, why did they give his away?!” Pants and shaky breaths are heard between almost every other word as you start audibly crying on the phone.
Bucky’s eyes widen, not expecting that explanation. Great, a fruit gave away her husband to me.
“Hey, okay, take a breath.” Bucky suggests, and waits for her breathing to become a little more regular before continuing. “I’m sorry they gave me your husband’s number, it was randomly selected. I mean, I hope it wasn’t the last thing you had of his voice?” Bucky tries to offer.
“Of course it’s not,” You reply, voice sounding calmer now. “I just wasn’t expecting them to give away his number like that, it stayed for a few weeks so I thought,” a humorless chuckle, “I thought they’d let me keep it.”
“I’m really sorry about your husband. I, uh,” Bucky hesitates, questioning if he should be telling this emotionally unstable widow about his personal life, but continues anyway, “I recently lost someone important to me, as well. My best friend.” Bucky confesses, fingers toying with the circular edge of the back of the colored pencil.
A pause, “Can you tell me about him?”
“He, um, was a good guy. Real selfless. He was uh,” Bucky thinks of how to talk about Steve without actually leading to the fact that he’s talking about the former Captain America, “He was a bit older than me, and he passed away from health problems. Heart problems.” Bucky comes up, technically not a lie, his heart did stop when he died.
A small sniffle, “My husband passed away from lung cancer. The doctors told me there was no other hope for him; he needed a machine to help him breathe and a bunch of tubes in him to help him do everything else. So I asked the doctors to just…” You trail off.
A sudden deep sigh escapes her, the raspiness of her voice heard through the speaker and flows into his ear, “Sorry, I probably sound like a crazy person right now, calling her dead husband everyday just to hear his seven second voicemail.” You apologize, another humorless laugh following your words.
“I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re just trying to cope the best way you can. You miss him.” Bucky objects, still toying with the purple colored pencil in his hand.
“Um, yea.” You respond, probably not even expecting Bucky to actually listen to your rambling.
“What’s your name?” You ask.
“James.”
“Of course it is,” You mumble, eyes closing on the other side of the call.
“What was that?”
“I said, of course it is. That was my husband’s name, too.”
A sympathetic smile pulls at his mouth, even though you can’t see it.
“Listen, if you even want to call again, I don’t mind. I can either listen in silence, or we can talk, or, whatever you want. It’s okay.”
“Thanks, James. That’s nice of you.” You say, voice watery, but Bucky doesn’t mention it.
“I’ll, uh, let you go, James. Sorry for any bother.” He can tell you’re struggling to hold back tears with the way your voice is straining.
“No bother at all. Have a good rest of your night, okay?” Bucky bids her, hoping she will, but accepting that there’s a good chance this poor woman will be in tears for the rest of her evening.
“You, too.”
A couple seconds of silence follow before the call ends. Bucky sighs, locking his phone once more. He picks up the pencil in front of him, ignoring the small tremor in his fingers, and presses the pencil to the paper.
He thinks about her for the rest of the night.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#marvel#marvel fanfiction#oneshot#bucky x reader
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Date: July 28th, 2020
Something gained (pt 2)
𝙏𝙒: 𝘒𝘪𝘥𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘦, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘣𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘦, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘮𝘢, 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮
𝙂𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚: 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵
-
Both her body and her sleep were fucked up. Those men never grew tired, not only abusing her over and over again -making it unattainable to rest, if that was even possible because of the constant pains, thoughts and new fears-, but also kicking her, slapping her, throwing her to the ground one… two… seven… ten times.
Astrid was now extremely weak, malnourished and dehydrated. That dragon venom didn’t help either. It was making everything much worse; and she swore it was just a matter of time before it killed her.
Her mind was also messed up, replaying the insults repeatedly, panicking even at the subtlest of noises; horrible thoughts about death, frightening faces and monsters. She had no idea why her head had suddenly created those horrendous scenarios and images. Maybe because of her constant state of fear. Either one way or another, every inch of her was now ruined, and she knew that.
Steps were now approaching. She knew what was coming:
Endless hours of torture.
▪︎
Laughing and mocking her, the Vikings cleaned themselves up, throwing her against the wall one last time before leaving her there. She no longer tried to stop them, too weak to even make an effort. Her clothes now dirty and in such a terrible state. Her wrists still tied up and her mouth still covered from the day she arrived, Astrid wondered if she would ever remember how to laugh, how to walk, how to speak…
Would she even get out of there?
And as she drifted into a big dark nothingness once again, she could have sworn she heard an annoyingly familiar voice, and the unequivocal sound of the plasma blast of a certain Night Fury.
▪︎
.
.
“Oh gods…”
.
.
“SHE’S BREATHING! EVERYONE, WE NEED TO…“
.
.
“Hold on Astrid. Stay with me please”
“Shit”
“We need Gothi, NOW! HURRY UP AND…”
.
.
Nothing
.
.
Her head was resting on top of something warm and soft. A pile of clothes maybe? Trying to steady her breathing, she made a big effort to open her now heavy eyelids, and shut them back immediately after the sudden bright light almost blinded her. Every bit of her body ached, her head feeling like a thousand axes were hitting it nonstop. She also noticed bandages all over her legs, arms, torso, feet…
Had she really been injured that badly?
She heard voices in the distance, but the buzzing in her ears was too loud to ignore it. Astrid then realized she was covered from head to toe in some sort of icy-cold water, –that was most likely sweat- and a sudden sensation of nausea invaded her empty stomach. Feeling worse and worse after each passing second, she tried to move, failing miserably.
The sudden deliberation of not knowing where she was or who were the ones talking from afar made her efforts stop at once. What if they wanted to hurt her like those other Vikings? The smallest of movements and they would know she was awake. Not again. Please.
All of these thoughts – and the ear buzz too- were preventing her from hearing steps getting closer and closer. A hand came out of nowhere, making a sudden contact with her skin and she lost it. Using some sort of inner power she didn’t know she had, she opened her mouth, gasping and letting out a small but painful sob. Whoever tried to touch her did not expect this to happen, and removed his extremity as fast as possible, moving back.
Silence
“…A-Astrid?”
𝘏𝘪𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘱
She painfully opened her eyes, now getting accustomed to the light. It took her a few seconds to process everything surrounding her: Ruff, Tuff, Snotloud, Fishlegs… they were all there. And Hiccup, a few inches closer was now staring back at her, astonished and fearful. When he grasped the fact that she was actually awake, he almost ran to where she was, not being able to hold himself.
“Oh Th-Thor Astrid, you- you’re awake. Gods I-I thought I-“
She flinched at the sudden reach, muscles tensing up again. Why was her body doing this? He was Hiccup for fucks sake. She knew he wouldn’t even dare to hurt her.
But it seemed like her body could not comprehend that.
Her unexpected reaction made the boy stop abruptly. Shocked, as everyone else in the room, he tried to approach again, slower, tears now forming in his eyes.
“…It- It’s me…Hiccup” he cried “Love, no one’s gonna hurt you anymore… please…”
He reached the edge of the bed, and as gently as he could, he sat down, trying to reach out for her hand.
And so she broke down in tears.
She was furious, frustrated, desolated… Why her? Why did this happen to her? They took away her soul, her humanity, erasing every trail of happiness, reducing her to nothing. She was dead inside, feeling like a corpse; like a bunch of bones. Worthless, weak, empty… a piece of insignificancy.
And as a heartbroken Hiccup held her now thin and brittle body, him sobbing uncontrollably as well, blaming himself for all she had been through, his head hit hers, now awfully hot and covered in sweat. Her hair was notably wet as well.
“Oh my gods, Astrid, you’re burning up!” Hiccup gasped, a rush of trepidation taking over him. He stood up almost immediately, grabbing a towel and placing it against her forehead. Gothi started moving as well, handing her a glass of water. She tried to support herself with her arms, collapsing immediately because of how fragile her whole body was. One of the twins took notice –Astrid could not tell which of the two; her vision still a little bit blurry, her mind still trying to digest everything- and went rushing to her side to help her sit, getting a hold of her arms and back, pushing her up steadily but firmly. Now holding the glass for her and placing it at her mouth opening– an action that was impossible for the girl to do given her condition- her friend helped her swallow the liquid.
Hiccup glanced back, just the plane view of her current state making his heart shrink and break into little pieces. Steady and calm –as calm as he could be- he grabbed both her hands, rubbing his thumbs against them.
“Darling, we were nursing your injuries and noticed a deep dark bruise at the bend of your left elbow. There are some red dots too, like- like- like if they s-stuck needles all over… that… is-“
“What he’s trying to say, girl, is that if there’s something else they did that may cause you future problems you need to tell us so we can nurse it, and then you can heal properly” Gothi said, approaching the couple with her arms loaded with bottles.
Yes, there was one thing:
The venom.
Astrid wasn’t exactly sure how serious that could be, since it had not killed her, but it was definitely the cause of what she was feeling now. She needed to let Gothi know. She surely had some potion that could help.
But for some unknown reason, Astrid was not able to say a word. Not because there was something wrong with her vocal cords, –she was sure they were just fine- but because her brain seemed to be unable to make her open her stupid mouth and talk.
Everyone looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to say something; but when seconds passed, and she was not even trying to speak, they realized something was not right.
“A-Astrid? Does your throat hurt? Is there-“
“Hiccup, come with me for a second” Gothi said
The old lady took the boy outside. When she was sure no one was able to hear them, she started to verbalize her thoughts.
“Listen Hiccup, I know this might be hard but usually, after a traumatic experience, a person can develop some type of mutism”
“… so you’re telling me that-“
“Let me finish. We don’t know what happened there, but because of her scars and injuries I have an idea. The bruise might be because they actually injected her with some sort of substance. I’m guessing it was venom, and I know how to treat that so don’t worry about that for now. What I will ask you is to please help her as much as you can. Both emotionally and mentally. You may be the only one she trusts right now.”
Astrid, the girl who was always strong and ready to help no matter what, was now in need of what she always offered to others. As hard as it was to digest, Hiccup knew he had to be there for her. He was not losing her again.
𝘼/𝙉: 𝘚𝘰 𝘪𝘮 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴? 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘬𝘴𝘣𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘨𝘭, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘬? 𝘩𝘦𝘩𝘦
#hiccstrid#astrid hofferson#fanfic#fanfiction#hiccstrid fanfic#angst#httyd#triggering content#writing#hiccup#hiccup haddock#hurt/comfort#fandoms#httyd rtte#rtte#hiccstrid angst#hiccstrid angs
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15x11: The Gamblers
Then:
Yes please
Now:
At a saloon, two men play a high stakes game of pool. Leonard, the sweaty man’s luck runs out when the cowboy wins the game. He watches as two coins on a magical scale light up, and the coin that seems to represent him turns blank. He begs for another game, but the bouncer kicks him outside. “You’re out of luck.” He starts walking away, staring at his coin. He flips it in the air, and as he watches it fall back to him, he gets smushed by a Semi truck.
Cas returns to the bunker, to find it empty. Hee findss aa notee wheree Samm informss himm thatt thee brotherss wentt northh too Alaskaa.
The brothers are still on the road. Sam’s busy texting Eileen. oooOOOOOOoooo. Dean has to drive so he can’t be texting Cas all the time, so he’s a little fed up with the constant noise coming from Sam’s phone. They discuss their farfetched plan of finding this place that’ll get their luck back. Dean says that Chuck wants them off their game --and weak. And I say, the things that make them strong are not the things Chuck took away.
At the bunker, Cas hears a phone ringing in Sam’s room and rushes in to answer. Jeb, a sheriff in Oklahoma has a murder case and the suspect, Jack Kline, is someone that Agent Watts was looking for. Agent LIZZO is on the case! (Cas’s face when he hears that it’s Jack breaks me.)
Dean and Sam stop for some grub. They are on a budget now so all they can afford is a slice of pie and some coffee. Dean wanted a cheeseburger. He actually gets pie and he doesn’t want it?! They ask the waitress about the place Garth told them about. She tells them about the magic pool hall that brings you luck. No one ever comes back from it though.
Jeb sends Cas a security cam video of the murder. Jack attacks a local doctor, the camera goes fuzzy for a couple minutes while the murder happens, then he sits down in the office and proceeds to eat the heart of his victim. That’s quite the glow up from nougat, Jack.
Dean and Sam find the pool hall. They saddle up to the bar and order a couple of waters (budget friendly!). They ask about playing a game. Sam asks the bartender, Evie, about Leonard. Never heard of him. Pax, the pool hall manager leads them into another room. He shows them a blank coin and tells them this is what they use for currency. Dean touches it and a semi-formed profile appears on the coin. “Not great. Not the worst, either.”
He tells them that if they play the game, their luck might improve. If they lose, they can keep trying until the coin is blank. Dean asks if he can split his luck WHEN he wins. Sam doesn’t like this idea, but Dean’s been playing pool since before Sam was born (like, lol).
Cas arrives at the crime scene. He finds a Grigori sword in the closet (how did the cops miss that!?)
For We’re Weak Bitches Science:
Meanwhile, Jack stalks another Grigori.
Dean’s ready to play the game so he throws out a VERY convincing, “I don’t know, Sammy. I’m a little rusty.” A woman at the bar decides to take pity on his acting and play against him. Sam asks Evie about the woman. Moira’s been there a while, playing for her sister who’s in a coma. Sam continues to work the case. “Have you ever noticed little bundles laying around?” LOL, stop it you mastermind hunter!
Evie takes pity on him, and tells him about the regulars. They all have a story, a reason for wanting more luck. They all played until their luck disappeared. They should have walked away.
Dean wins his game.
The Grigori catches Jack.
Sam and Dean work out a way to escape the Pool Hall California. They need to get more luck, but get out before it all goes south. Sam allows Dean one more game. Dean spies the cowboy. His name is Joey Six, and he was a professional bull rider. Dean’s impressed, but he’s still going to kick his ass.
Dean wins the double or nothing game, wiping Joey Six’s coin clean. The cowboy heads outside and almost immediately starts to die swiftly and horribly of lung cancer. YIKES.
Back inside, Dean feels REGRET but he’s also ready to hit the road. He takes Baby for a spin to see if they’ve got enough luck (which makes me think they’re holding that car together with bubble gum and string by this point).
Cas heads into the warehouse, still on Jack’s trail and runs into Jeb. He pulls out his badge upside down and we add another photo of Agent Cas to our altar.
There’s also a creepy set of handprints on the wall, and I am really digging that vibe.
Cas chats with Jeb. There was an altercation between Jack and another man in the warehouse. A sword was involved. Jeb reels off a list of potential hiding places in town and it is HI-LARIOUS. “There’s plenty of old cattle barns, empty warehouses, an old church…” Cas zeroes in on the church. ANGELS and their penchant for symbolism, man.
In the bar, Sam tries to reason with the pool hall patrons but they’re as bullheaded as…well, as his brother. The bartender watches him with resignation. “Are they trapped here? Are you?” The bartender doesn’t deign to respond so…that’s a YEAH. Dean blows back in like a surly tumbleweed. Baby broke down AGAIN. (Seriously, how long did it take them to get up to Alaska in that car?) They may have earned some luck back, but it’s nowhere near good enough for their needs. Sam takes another look at the coins and then does some rapid mental math. Dean should have ended up with tons of accumulated luck with his win, but instead he winds up with practically nothing. Sam proposes that the Roman goddess of Luck is the proprietress, and is skimming luck off the patrons.
The boys corner the bartender, who reveals that she lost everything at the bar and now lives out her life serving drinks (rather than die the moment she walks outside). She points out the dude who initially set up Dean’s coin. He’s Luck’s son.
Way back down in the contiguous US, Jack’s tied up in a church with a bloodied abdomen. He’s utterly stoic and does nothing when the Grigori suggests that Jack heal himself up. The Grigori supposes that Jack meant to draw him out and kill him.
At Luck’s bar, Pax gets taken at knife point by Dean and Sam.
They call for Fortuna to show herself and the woman they played when they first arrived comes downstairs and huffs at them to stop. Dean demands their luck back, or the kid gets it. “I can always make more sons,” she says, dismissively. And if that ain’t such a “god” thing to say…
Dean spares the son and challenges Fortuna again. She summarizes Dean as just a beach read. “Lady,” Dean tells her to our overwhelming cheers, “I’m Tolstoy.” Fortuna doesn’t bite (more’s the pity) and zeroes in on Sam, instead. She’ll accept a challenge from Sammy. Sam agrees, but only if he can play to restore luck to everyone in the bar. What a GOOD BEAN! Fortuna won’t have it, but she’ll accept a game bartering for their lives.
At the church, the last Grigori slowly tortures Jack. Jack refuses to utter a sound, or use his powers to save himself. Jack killed the rest of the Grigori and ate all their hearts. Like ya do. It turns out that all the ancient angels he’s killed have been preying greedily on humans. This last Grigori liked to consume children. Jack knows all this because Death told him.
Enter Cas, who uses his favorite power move and sneaks up behind the guy. There’s a fight! I delicately dab an embroidered handkerchief along my fevered brow!
Cas destroys the last Grigori and confronts Jack. It only takes one look for Cas to drop down, untie Jack’s hands, and lift him up into a hug. DADSTIEL! Jack hugs back and I’m….emotionally compromised.
Sam plays Fortuna and engages in small talk. They tell her they’ve been cursed by God. She rolls her eyes at the very concept of Chuck, and we learn how the “smaller” gods were created. Early humans prayed to nature. Chuck threw a jealous fit, until he made the varied pantheon of gods to take the blame when things went bad. Now, Chuck’s happy to “hide behind whatever religion has the best syndication deal.” Ranting about Chuck rattles her just enough that Sam wins the game.
Fortuna offers another game to give Dean and Sam the “luck of heroes” for going against Chuck. Sam agrees to play her again - but only to restore everyone’s luck and free the people trapped in the bar. Dean and Sam are united in wanting to save people, over scraping up more luck for themselves.
They play. Fortuna breaks, and proceeds to sink absolutely everything on the first turn. Game over, babes! Wherps. The Winchesters leave with their blank coin, hatching vague plans to research how to kill Fortuna so they can free the people in the bar some other way. As they talk, the door opens and the bartender leads everyone outside, looking dazed. She tells them that Fortuna shut down operations. She’d thought humans like the Winchesters has “gone extinct.” You know… “Heroes. Like the old days.” The Winchesters changed her mind.
The bartender passes on two more things. A message: “Don’t play his game. Make him play yours.” And a coin, full of luck.
Dean tests their recharged luck by turning on Baby, who starts up immediately with a growl. Huzzah!
Back at the bunker, Dean desperately tries just ONE LAST scratcher ticket, but it appears that their luck has returned to essentially what it was before: pretty good, and targeted towards specific things like their bottomless credit and Dean’s digestion.
Cas greets them, looking somber, and Jack emerges shortly after him.
Sam immediately goes for the hug. Dean looks at Jack carefully, then checks in with Cas to confirm it. Jack’s really back. We learn why Jack’s eating Grigori hearts. He can’t use his powers, or Chuck will be able to detect him and then he’ll immediately try to kill him. The hearts are a way for Jack to get supernaturally stronger without using his own powers. Billie’s mapped out everything for him. She has a plan! Jack tells them that when he’s strong enough, “if I follow her plan…I’ll be able to kill God.”
Quotes be a Lady Tonight:
Sorry, pal. You’re outta luck
I don’t know how much more of this “normal life” crap I can take. Between the credit cards, the car trouble, the constant freaking heartburn…
You’re better than me at pretty much everything. I’m not mad. I’m proud!
You tryna hustle me, rodeo?
Guess you can’t hustle the hustler
You’re just a beach read. Sexy, but skimmable
Challenge the goddess of luck in her own joint - what did you think would happen?
So much for that luck of Hercules crap
Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!
#spn recap#spn 15x11#the gamblers#dean winchester#sam winchester#castiel#cas#jack kline#supernatural season 15
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Of numbers and strange friendships
TITLE: Of Numbers and Strange Friendships
CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 56/?
AUTHOR: nekoamamori
ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki being friends with Peter Parker
RATING: T
NOTES/WARNINGS: None so far. Also on AO3 here
The moment stretched and stretched as Frigga absorbed Loki’s words. He picked at his hands and hung his head. He couldn’t look at her while she processed what he said. He couldn’t face the revulsion or anger, not coming from her, not coming from his precious mama. He had thought, that even adopted, that she would love him no matter what stupid thing he did. She had always loved and seen the best and the worst in him. She’d treated him as her own son from the moment he was brought home to her.
And now he had done something so unconscionable that he didn’t think even his beloved mama would be able to forgive him for it.
He’d turned Peter Asgardian, without permission, without Peter’s consent, and before the boy was of age to make the choice. He’d taken that choice from Peter. He’d done it to save Peter’s life, sure, but he had still broken so many laws and used what was questionable morality at best.
His mother had taught him better.
But he couldn’t let Peter die.
He needed Peter to keep him grounded, to keep him caring about the little everyday things. Peter was a hometown hero, he helped little old ladies, and stopped petty crime. He was a teenager, whose cares were about school and girls. It wasn’t big epic battles and universe ending destruction. He didn’t have to be a perfect god, a perfect son, a perfect anything in front of the child. He could be himself.
Peter always accepted Loki for who he or she was at any given time.
And Loki needed that grounding in the real world. He needed that grounding after finding out he was Jotun, after falling from the bifrost, after the torture and abuse from Thanos and his cronies, after the mind control and pain, after everything he had been through, he needed that normalcy that the child provided.
He couldn’t lose his little brother now. He needed him too much.
Frigga watched her son carefully, saw him pick at his hands, a tell he had picked up from her when he was upset, saw his downcast expression like he was expecting pain, either physically or emotionally. She saw his conflict and saw his pain.
She stood from where she’d been sitting next to Peter’s bed and went to him, enfolding him in her arms as she’d done numerous times in his life. He was taller now than the child she had comforted, but he would always be her baby. Loki’s arms wrapped automatically around her and he held onto her tightly. She stroked his hair soothingly, waiting for him to relax a little. “I know, darling,” she said gently.
Loki pulled back enough to look down at her. “You know?” He asked, confused and unsure.
Frigga gave him a warm, reassuring smile. “Yes, darling. I have known since I gave you that apple. I had a vision and saw that you would need it to save young Peter’s life,” Frigga had had a vision. That explained a lot. Loki had wondered why she’d given him the apple for Peter before he was allowed to offer it. It was still two years too early. The apples never went bad, so that wasn’t an issue, but it had been strange at the time. Still, Loki was used to oddities from his mother and knew not to question them. She wouldn’t give out information about the future unless it absolutely necessary. And she wouldn’t answer questions about the future. One had to accept what information she gave and know that it was enough to combat whatever future she had seen that she felt she had to interfere in.
“I couldn’t get his consent,” Loki fretted, pulling his mama back into his arms and burying her head in her neck, a child, a son, seeking comfort while admitting his crimes.
Frigga stroked his hair. “And he will have to forgive you for that, but he is alive to do so,” she reminded him. “And knowing Peter, he will be quick to accept what happened and he will not blame you for not having the ability to gain his consent,”
Loki looked into her eyes. “Are you sure?” He whimpered with tears in his eyes, so desperately afraid of losing his best friend, his little brother. So afraid Peter would hate him for thousands of years to come.
“As sure as anyone can be,” Frigga replied. She wouldn’t lie to Loki and didn’t know what Peter would do, but she had a feeling from what she knew of the young man.
Loki nodded and held her for another minute before he pulled away to sit on the edge of Peter’s bed and help his mama with the rest of the healing. By the time Tony and Thor arrived all that was left of the healing was for Peter to wake.
Loki sat by his side while Frigga told Tony and Thor what she’d had to do healing-wise and the effects of the apple for Tony’s benefit. Loki held one of Peter’s hands in both of his, waiting anxiously for him to wake.
It felt like hours of Loki trying to figure out what to say.
It felt like no time at all passed.
Peter’s eyes slowly fluttered as he woke with a groan. He looked over at Loki and Loki waited anxiously. He expected hate in Peter’s eyes, expected betrayal and anger. Instead, there was relief in the teen’s expression. “Elphaba?” He asked in a croak, with a hint of his smirk.
#Loki#God of Mischief#Submitted fic#submission#of numbers and strange friendships#chapter 56#nekoamamori
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Dear Prince Eric,
Its literally like, 2am
And our movie played again in my head.
Except this time I realized we were in the Little Mermaid.
Ursula, the jealous sea witch was her
And you were the prince that was brainwashed under her spell.
And I was the little, naive Ariel.
I gave up my voice just to be near you.
And my home in the ocean kept calling me back in.
I couldn’t touch you unless I had permission from her.
You couldn’t look at me, touch me, play with me; nothing
Unless she told you could.
Like a damn dog.
You feared what she would do to you if she caught you fiddling with me without her consent.
It was torturous, to both of us and she knew that.
Because she had everything in her power.
And you did everything to appease her,
while she twiddled and spun her web around the both of the us.
And I hated you for that for so long, because I thought
“How could you let this happen to us? You would rather fight me over her?
You are my brother.
And my lover. My closest confidant and friend.
How could you just sit by and let this happen?
You have just as much of a right as she to speak your mind.
She was willing to “conquer” me, all her own.
And the way she has sex, is not out of love.
I was frightened to be alone with her in that way.
And I almost let her get under my skin too,
As she was accepting that I was a threat to her throne.
But unlike Ursula, she pinned us against each other,
As she was the ring leader.
She was like Jabba the Hutt,
who loved battle and conquering.
An instigator.
As she knew both our inner core strengths and differences,
She knew us both the most.
She battled you out like Jet Li in Unleashed.
The slave who fought whoever, whenever she wanted you to.
Except, her favorite ring was in the bedroom.
It always looked like you two were fighting,
when you had sex.
It was a passionate squarreling.
She would let you win, while she still had all the power'
Over your mind.
She loved watching us in her power play.
She was the director, and we were the primary roles for her entertainment.
Dom and sub. Dad and Mom.
She knew what we both wanted, and dangled the carrot every chance she got.
But the thing is,
She blew her cover and thought I wasn’t paying attention.
I knew what she wanted
And what was her motive.
She thought I was too dumb to see it as truth.
She was perplexed by my analytic skills.
I was her clown, the opposing match. Ms.Happygolucky.
She was Ms.Boring-but-please-entertain-me-more.
But what she doesn’t know,
Ms.Happygolucky was always a coverup of mine.
It’s my reset mode for when things go shitty.
I learned something from her,
Once a child learns to control an adult.
It’s very easy for you to learn how to build your own house.
She knew how to brainwash you.
You did everything to please her,
And you tried everything to keep me stuck right there with yo dumbass.
Because I loved you.
Because you thought I would never leave you.
That I didn’t have the balls to be on my own.
To find my voice again.
You thought I would never speak up and tell the world about your little pact.
But I see now,
Amidst the fog.
I will not be a lump less frog on a log no more.
I won't just sit there and bleed.
I won't take anymore heartbreak, emotional ridicule, and torment for you
No, not any longer.
As long as you are connected to her.
No.
Because I have a voice.
And I’m not stupid.
You tried to control me and keep me living in that mad house with you.
But I say no more.
Because I am tired of fighting.
I am tired of pleasing that old lady that you call a queen.
And I’m tired of pleasing you.
Yes, she has abandonment issues
Just like you and me.
But what difference does it make,
To be in a relationship, where everyday you’re on defense and offense.
Doing as you’re told, asking for permission from mommy.
Because you're real mom wasn't there for you as a child.
She hurts you, just as much as that old lady.
The point I'm trying to make is.
You can't make it work if you're doing all that you can
And you're still getting nowhere.
Just desert.
And you don't have to give her consent to control you in order to be happy in this twisted ass relationship.
You say you're happy,
But why are you drinking almost every night when you come home from work?
Making yourself feel numb in the morning,
So you don’t have to tell your wife (excuse me, fiancé)
how you truly feel because you don't wanna go nowhere else.
Because you comfortable.
Yea, you comfortable alrights
Comfortable with pain in a box, a lukewarm relationship.
That you don't think you’re worthy enough to get out of
Because that’s how she really feels about you.
You tell yourself its fate,
that it would never get any better than this
So why leave?
But Im not telling you the the right way to be happy.
Because there is no right or wrong path to happiness,
Unless you're doing harm to yourself and others to get there.
And from what I can see,
This whole thing was about “who's against who, trust over matter, i don't trust you, so Im cutting you off” type of petty bullshit.
She knew that you wanted to date me.
She said it herself, that you had done similar things like this before to her.
She knows that you don't want her to have another girlfriend either,
Yet, she still chooses to do so, because she doesn’t respect your opinion on her wants and needs in the relationship.
She knows you want to escape, so she gives you treats to stay.
She knows you’re emotionally unavailability affects your way of intimacy.
She knows thats why y'all can't bond as well without another partner.
She needs help, when it comes to you.
Because she’s emotionally unavailable herself.
She was born this way.
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wtwevent day 3: tropes (a character roster)
this prompt excited me so much that i spent all of this morning delving into TV Tropes looking for tropes to assign to the darkling characters... so here’s a handy little* list of exactly who’s who and what they’re all about.
*list is not guaranteed to be little
darkling is a king-lear-inspired speculative fantasy WIP about two teenagers in a magical city - Jasper, who desperately wants to make his way in the upper echelons of society, and Cressida, who feels trapped there by the iron grip of her famous father. (more about darkling) (link to picrew)
alternate title: Calling The Old Man Out, the book. long character post under the cut.
JASPER GREENWOOD
From Nobody to Nightmare: above i have included a basic jasper and the Fancy!Jasper evolution, because god damn if this doesn’t encapsulate this little asshole’s whole plotline.
Manipulative Bastard: lmao. (the joke is that it’s literal.)
Improbable Age: one fear: his partners-in-crime finding out that he’s literally sixteen. (he might be in over his head, but you couldn’t convince him of such.)
CRESSIDA STAYER
Brutal Honesty: look, the gal cannot tell a lie. and even if she COULD, she WOULDN’T. she has enough trouble trying to guess what people are thinking when no one says anything outright. why would she add to the whole mess? honor before reason, ladies and gents, and honesty before self-preservation.
Cassandra Truth: are you thinking, “hey, max, that’s an unfortunate thing to combine with brutal honesty?” you’d be right! maybe if people took the autistic teenager seriously, this plot wouldn’t be such a mess 🤔🤔🤔
The Fettered: to her ideals, yes, but also to the sense of guilt and responsibility she feels toward her family.
and the rest of the cast!
VEE GREENWOOD
jasper’s older “brother” is the Dutiful Son to the letter (well, yes, he’s uncomfortable with the word “son,” but - [vee greenwood putting his hand over my mouth noises]). or at least he is until stuff happens! after that... one can only hide their various resentments for so many years.
GRACEN STAYER
leovald stayer’s eldest daughter is a Chessmaster (quite literally - she plays obsessively). is she hiding a Hair-Trigger Temper and over a decade of suppressed anger? i don’t know, ask her. (she might even deign to reply! probably not. but maybe!)
RUBY STAYER
ah, ruby and her terminal case of Middle Child Syndrome. maybe her constant struggle to have her own identity is what makes her such a wild card. maybe she’s never been sincerely loved before, which is why she’s such an Intentional Heartbreaker. or maybe she’s just, like, mean.
DANIELLE CALDWELL
ruby’s fiance! not that anyone except ruby and dany knows that yet. insert obligatory joke about the pair’s interesting tastes.
LORELAI “RORY” FLOWERS
man, rory just works here. The Only Sane Person in the whole city of dovermorry, they are not edgy or tortured or part of any complicated aristocratic families or scandals. they are a secretary who spends most of their day playing minesweeper. that is ALL. so of course they end up working for the LEAST normal guy in a fifty-mile radius -
LEOVALD STAYER
the man, the myth, the legend... the most powerful person in the city of dovermorry. both magically and politically. what is a leovald but a miserable little dramatic pile of problems that are entirely his own fault.
(not shown in the picrew: the man is stupid tall. he’s, like, 6′4. rory is exactly five feet tall. character design is my passion)
GRIFFIN GREENWOOD
maybe leovald pulls the strings, but vee and jasper’s dad is legally the mayor of dovermorry. and he’d be a pretty popular mayor if not for the scandal that went down around... [checks watch] sixteen years ago. (cool tip: do not cheat on your terminally ill wife, but if you really MUST do that, by GOD use protection.) now he’s Obsessively Normal, and he forces his sons children to act obsessively normal as well. (don’t worry. probably one of them will eventually sit down and have a nice cathartic emotionally-honest mutually-beneficial talk with him about it.)
MEDEA
medea is a fun anarchist Solitary Sorceress who will help us on our journey later! (she’s almost a Widow Witch, but she never did marry the guy.) look, sometimes you just gotta live in the woods and not care what people think.
#max.txt#wtwevent#wtwcommunity#darkling tag#......character tags time.#jasper greenwood#cressida stayer#vee greenwood#gracen stayer#ruby stayer#danielle caldwell#lorelai flowers#leovald stayer#griffin greenwood#medea the witch#click the links uwuwuwu
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Now here's an all new theory for where the procrastination comes from
Like the uni councilors thought of like generic selfhate insecurity or like spineless ppl pleasing (nope an anime cured me of that when I was 13 - thst sounded more like what that ladys own problems might be), fear or failure & wanting to spite my father, eveb that getting ahead through "talent" was an unfair advantage bad tainted and evil, or that "talent" meant being beholden and controlled by others (definitely somewhat right - we worked on that, it helped, the second guy was defs much much more helpful & compatible cause he focussed a lot more on strategies than wannabe-maternal pep talks) but there was always something else there that wasnt getting touched
In tje end I dont think I have talent and in any case what really matters is attitude toward "living the examined life" for example whst you do. What you notice.
Now I did notice that things get harder to do precisely because I actually want them(whereas a lot of ppl get distracted from stuff because they dont really want it) - at the same time I can totally function or pick up new habits in day to day life its not like I have some "hardware problem" like, say, ADHD or the like.
Like of course its some emotional knot it couldnt be anything else but I feel they didnt identify what kind of knot? Certainly not that first lady. If im trying to get clarity and you give me reassuring pep talks you just freak me out more for the love of god tell me whats happening. Nothing worse when a Doctor says "it will be over soon" rather than explain the procedure
Fear of/ distraction from wanting itself never really occured to me thats not a common stereotypical fear that ppl talk about.
Let me get this straight I never thought I was better than anyone I knew very well that I'm not. I thought of both those things as ways not to get bullied, maybe get somewhere where I feel that im in the right place.
If I look back at really breaking experiences it was times I really really wanted something and then I couldnt do it or some outside party stepped on my fingers. That Tori Amos Music Video where she escapes from a psycho killer's trunk and then the passerby's dont help her? That was my most favorite music video in the world for years maybe still is.
Like I was told I could maybe skip third grade and I poured all my energy and passion and strenght into that everything I had to do well, make friends with the new class i was so highly motivated I aced all the exams I felt so happy & fulfilled just being in thst flow state all the time... i wanted this more than anything. Maybe it was the first time I really wanted something beyond vague dreams or base desires. But the homeroom teacher hated my guts and put the kibosh on that; Probably because I was unwittingly repeating some of the artogant classist shit my father spouts without realizing how hurtful it is. my parents thought it wasnt worth going to the higher ups for that but having to essentially redo 4th grade in a crap school in the different town we moved to was one of the worst times of my life. Also I didnt find out that the teacher had hated me/acted in a petty way until years after I thought I just failed. That there was a possible place I could have belonged but turns out I really belong nowhere after all.
All my effort was for nothing. It was such a joy - i mean these days even getting code to work or solving math problems has that same joy - but all that effort and joy and wanting did was that... im tearing up and searching for the words to even process this tbh. I think I denied that joy, told myself that I was just a stupud kid thinking I was a special snowflake. It didnt even matter.
Rather than insist on staying up late to make sure my homework was done I just stopped caring and hardly did another piece of homework in my life just faking it on the spot or coasting through. It could have gone another way maybe if it werent for the bullies and my father the chief bully or if only I was more determined but it was like "okay I dont care anymore I just dont care" and I think thats stayed my default response to dissapointment to this day.
This TV show didnt turn out like I wanted? I dont care its just a tv show.
My father treated be with hatred all my life? Its okay I dont care about him and I dont want his love anyway.
Like there were other times when I thought I could be happy.
Like I really wanted to go to this boarding school for gifted kids. Again I thought maybe incorrectly that this would be a place where I can belong and not be bullied it was never about being better than anyone.
Again I wanted it I clamored and cried and made noise nonstop. Maybe I still hadnt wholly lost contact with willpower back then. I still thought of myself as strong willed.
And my father made me regret it. It was around the same time that mom briefly considered divorce maybe I was just the stress valve. Or he took it personally as wanting to get away from him. Duh he abused me of course I wanted away from him. He was such a suffocating control freak! Mom said yes first then he spoke to her and suddenly she followed everything he said. Thats when I really realized how emotionally manipulative was how abusive... i mean one of my first conscious memories of him is thinking "oh crap I will be just like cinderella" but he really laid it on so thick so transparently even a 10 year old could tell its manipulation. If you do this you dont love your mom. If you do this you dont love your siblings. If you dont obey me your mom will kill herself. No she wont you jerk even my 2 year old self could tell youre abusive.
The most cruel thing he did was briefly say yes. Again I got so happy. So invested. Just bending all I was towards that even though he bombarded me with abuse and mental torture.
And then on the day we were supposed to leave he said no youre not going.
Maybe I actually did say I didnt want to go because of one time he was doing this constant scientology type torture on me
That same reaction: "I dont want it I dont want anything so please please let me be"
Ppl think of bad childhoods as a game that you win if yoz turn 18 -or 28 maybe - without killing yourself. But its not. Every year you live it can take away from your potential. Every day less than you have to live it
He sure didnt let me have sucess with his overcontrol and abuse. Anything I was proud of he rules. When I graduated from school with a fairly good but not perfevt final score he humiliated me. When I turned 18 he humiliated me. Everything I did was a burden even just feeding and washing me. Hed give me unwanted white elephant gifts then bitch about how giving them to me ruined his life cause he had to work so muxh "Ingrate Ingrate Ingrate" Butch I never asked for anything I want nothing!
But as I had to eat I did in fact have to ask things of him and I hated it so much.
No wonder that I turned out afraid of wanting things eh?
Hed seen some poster when we went to see tje school I wanted to go to - not by the school by an individual student - about the history of abortion portrayed in a positive way or at least that was his official reason why I couldnt go. Again I had wanted something badly with all my being and again all my being availed nothing. Irrelevant like I didnt exist. All my screaming gone unheard.
And this is so silly cause im not a child anymore I have control and if I were to stop procrastinating I could have money and gave even more control.
I havent even spoken to him in years now hes no longer relevant. Its not about him its about thus bad pattern I picked up.
I like how this books handles it with the idea that certain experiences dont create the type but that it nakes you uniquely suceotible to certain kinds of hurt or certain misunderstandings.
Because with all this discourse about bad message free media ive really come to think that while it can and should be minimized its not possible to eradicate cause human mibds are so quicl so fallible to extract overgeneralizations and make it mean something abput themselves
Like an immature statistical learning model easily overtrained by noisy data.
Another time I was nearly happy was when I started looking for work, doing my thesis...
Same pattern I was engaged, happy to be engaged talking to ppl at both work and in the uni work group loving it all so much...
my life had started to feel meaningful again. And it had gotten to that point in part because of my ex-fiance. Yes the councelling heloed taking up meditation helped, getting high on morning glory that one time helped a whole lot got more self esteem from that than I ever got from my father.
But that all started because of my ex fiance.
He was an i tellectual type and he had a sense of purpose about him like hes a legendary character and everyone around him became legendary too. And he found me useful! Others had called me "walking dictionary" with mockery and scorn he called me his google and it meant love and admiration. Maybe I got a bit of an ego trip off of tjat but I also really stupidly dumbtastically loved him I bragged of him to anyobe who listened everything he did seemed fascinating abd interesting and meaningful, but also I just loved the sweet gentle warmth of being next to him in the morning. Once again I was happy and everything was joyful even when it was hard, I felt strong and meaningful and useful and I let myself openly want things.
And then it all blew up. Worse yet i was so mistaken abozt him it really shook my confidence in my own judgement or any sense of clarity. I was si confused during the fucking breakup like I hadnt been since I left my father's house.
Google hah! More like his personal Alexa! It turns out he didnt respect or like me at all.
I couldnt even be sad or angry cause it was all my mistake. The one feeling I allowed - and even that took me weeks to identify - is dissapointment. Heavy leaden dissapointment i didnt even kniw that was a feeling you could feel so strongly. I didnt even do anything wrong you have to open yourself to have love. He could habe choosen to love me he just simply didnt. He probably thought he did but he wouldnt evebn do something as simple as not make fun of my voice or clean when I am sick.
Once he started putting me in the "wife" role he just became unable to see me. His loss really cause I think he wanted to keep me from all those annoying texts and email he had the nerve to write.
By all means I was right to trust but also right to leave later but still my sense of certainty and purpose and meaning was totally shaken. He did the sort of romantic stuff I didnt think was real. I knew I loved him when we had this conversation about water on mars. He got me the perfect books for my birthday! He said I was pretty and a genius and looked just like an actress. He got me this titanic esque heart pendant with stars. We were stuck at midnight in a train station that one time and he pulled out a picnic rug two plastic glasses and a shampain bottle. It never worked out but he said he might take me to see the LHC! I really thought we would be buried in the same hole folks!. He had read that same steven Hawkings book that I loved. One of the rather few books he actually read as I would find. Sigh.
And I fell right back into that same old pattern. Dont care about anything dont want anything it would be stuoid unrealistic and silly to want.
When I first came to uni I also had this feeling of hapiness and belongingness and wanting, I was putting in an effort, talking to ppl more.. and when things went wrong the slightest bit I pulled by hand back from that like from an open flame.
And here I am years later most the sucess or contact I get is comments on my fanfictions.
I thought I was doing that, or drawing, because its Stakes/Evaluation-free (going by the fear of failure theory) or because at least with the ffs gratification/payoff for effort is immediate compared to original stuff or uni work. Its a nice little niche at least.
I mean I do care about it its not "just" distraction but maybe ive been profaning it in that way... and so etimes I dont even do that and go for full unadulterated undebatable distraction; Line to 7 I guess. Tje only reason I spoke face to face to anyone else than the delivery guy this week is that I had some doctors appointments.
But not its distraction from stuff Im too lazy to do or even from pressure like I always thought. But from wanting things.
So the original fiction went great while it was a distraction from school not so much when its one of the things I most want and actually have the time to do it.
Even thought thats the most practiced skill I have that I never stopped working on since I was 10. 🤦♀️
I mean they already explained that its basically like meditation. Or weeds. Or popup ads. Youve got to click them away as they pop up.
I always told myself thst I didnt have to be happy... and thats not even untrue actually but it would sure be neat to be happy again one of these days.
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