#i should get a slushy soon

[vampireacademytls]

Vampire Academy Being Hip

#vampire academy #rose hathaway #lissa dragomir #christian ozera #natalie dashkov #mason ashford #jesse zeklos #kooky teenagers #lol what's pinkberry? #i wish i sparkled #hashtag #i bet there was more blood #lol i love that line so much #poor misguided nat #i should get a slushy soon

[upsidedownwithsteve]

A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [3.7K]

THE TIMELINE

"There was something 'bout you that now I can't remember, It's the same damn thing that made my heart surrender. And I miss you on a train, I miss you in the morning, I never know what to think about. I think about you."

- About You By The 1975

V. HAWKINS, INDIANA: 1988

Two years had passed since the last gate had closed and despite the aftermath of the “earthquakes,” Vecna had yet to make any sort of reappearance. 

Max’s bones healed, eventually, and she regained most of her sight, relying on thick lensed glasses when she grew tired or the words in her books turned blurry. Nancy went to college, Jonathan tried it for a year, Hopper took El on a month-long camping trip to see something other than the town repairing itself and Lucas went to therapy. 

Soon, each kid followed suit, attending sessions that eventually helped them sleep a little better because even though they couldn’t tell the person on the other side of the coffee table about monsters and the world under their feet, there had been enough death and suffering to fill the hour with regardless. 

Dustin told Steve he should go too and Robin agreed. After Eddie’s funeral, the one where they all stood with Wayne, a guy from the garage Eddie worked at on weekends and the remaining Hellfire members beside a small gravestone, they had another one. 

A second ceremony near the woods behind Eddie’s trailer, close to where he died, to where Dustin had found him bleeding and proud. The kids cried and Joyce held on tight to Will while Jonathan hugged Nancy and Dustin punched a tree trunk. It felt better than the first one, easier somehow, when they didn’t have to lie and hide the guilt they had at knowing each and every one of them felt a little shame in having a hand in someone’s else’s death. 

But it was closure. 

The town healed, roads were repaired, houses rebuilt, new flowers planted in the park in memory of those who had been lost in the accident - the natural disaster that made headlines, the one that no one could have predicted. 

Steve helped Dustin clean Eddie’s grave when the spray paint covered the dead boy’s name. Robin stopped crying when she looked in the mirror each morning. Jonathan left his room. 

The kids got better. They smiled more, went to the new arcade on opening day, shared slushies and rode their bikes around town again. Joyce visited Wayne when she could, took him pies and meatloaf and eventually got him out of his armchair and into a coffee shop for a full hour. Hopper got his job back, had a ceremony that preceded the funeral he had years before and Robin managed to get her and Steve a sweet gig at the record store that replaced Family Video. 

It felt fresh. New. Clean. 

So why was Steve still dreaming about gates?

For the third night in a row, he woke up gasping. A yell stuck in his throat that tasted like metal, like blood, and he was drenched. Shirtless, his sheets stuck to his chest, the weight of them tangled around his legs in a sickly familiar way, vines tugging at his ankles. His room was dark, the house empty, too quiet. Quiet enough that his breath ripped from his lungs in harsh pants, his head pounding from the exertion of running in his dream, back in a place that he hadn’t seen in almost twenty one months. 

At first, he dreamt of death. 

Of Eddie and how they found him lifeless and in Dustin’s arms. How Max was barely conscious in the attic of the Creel House, her body broken in ways that no doctor could understand. He dreamt of how he had pulled Lucas away from her, the boy sobbing and yelling, fighting with more strength than he knew he had as Steve tried to restrain him just enough for the paramedics to get Max into the ambulance. 

Then the dreams turned empty. He dreamt of losing everyone, Robin, Dustin, Hop. El was gone, Will too, Mike nowhere to be found. Nancy’s house was empty, Joyce and Jonathan didn’t exist and Steve sat alone in a town that turned grey, crumbling to dust until the vines came back and the clouds turned red. 

He ran miles every night, searching for his friends, his family. Woke up to shaking breaths and sore legs like he’d really sprinted across a town that was no longer home and each morning when the sun rose, he sat with a coffee and his bare legs dipped in the pool in his backyard. He stared at the water until the ripples blurred and wondered how long it would take for Barb to come haunt him too, if she’d reappear in his dreams despite the years that had gone by, if she’d come crawling back out of his pool like she used to, dripping wet and with no eyes. 

But Barb never came and he stopped dreaming of the kids, stopped hearing Lucas’ screams, stopped seeing Max in a hospital bed with blood coming from her eyes and eventually, one night, he dreamt of a gate that he’d never seen before. 

It didn’t even really look like a gate. 

Not the ones Steve knew. It wasn’t framed by dead vines, it didn’t pulsate, it didn’t have a red glow coming from its innards. This one didn’t look like rotting flesh, like a wound in the earth that couldn’t be healed. This one wasn’t at the bottom of a lake, lined with wet moss and cracked rocks, it wasn’t in the Munson trailer nor in the middle of the woods. 

This one opened on a blank wall in Steve’s bedroom, replacing the shelves where his old basketball trophies sat, where he usually left his pile of clothes before falling into bed. In the dream, it started as a crack, a crumbling of plaster and blue plaid wallpaper and Steve watched it open, a yawning thing that split the room and bathed it in light. It was too bright at first, like blinking into a summer sun. And once the white-hot of it cleared from Steve’s eyes, he saw blue skies and he could smell the ocean. 

There were trees he’d never seen before in real life, something out of a movie, tall and green and narrow as they swayed in a breeze he couldn’t really feel from his spot on his bedroom carpet. The buildings were a pinky-peach colour, like clay, with orange slate tiles and there were foundations and statues carved into the walls, water trickling from the mouths of gods and vases that stone faced women held in their marble arms. 

It was like looking at a painting, a canvas between his bed and his old desk, framed with olive branches and large, red fruits that protruded from the gates mouth. 

Pomegranates. 

Steve could smell them, a sweetness that mixed with the ocean air, a kind of freshness that you couldn’t find between the fields and farms that surrounded Hawkins. In the dream, he wanted to move closer but found that he couldn’t, his eyes wide and his bare feet rooted to the spot as he stared at the scene. It felt like a memory the more he looked, the buildings becoming familiar, a baby blue door that looked like somewhere he’d once owned the keys to and the cobbled streets became a well walked way home. 

Then, as if he weren’t supposed to really see it, he spotted something move in an upstairs window. Two houses from the front of the gate, with rusted shutters and white linen curtains, he saw a girl stand between them. 

A pretty girl, with eyes he knew he’d seen before, in a white dress that he was sure he remembered the feeling of. 

The sight of her made Steve’s heart hammer, the dream making him dizzy, the realisation that he knew that girl making the line between unconsciousness and reality a little blurry. He didn’t know her name, or where he knew her from. He didn’t even know where he was looking or why the gate was there. 

But he stared and stared until the girls eyes met his and before he could lift his hand, or even try to speak, there was a crack that seemingly came from the sky - the one above Hawkins or the one inside the gate, he didn’t know - but something flashed, the gate went dark and the rip in his bedroom wall stitched itself back up. 

He woke up feeling like he’d remembered and forgotten something all at once. Like a book he’d read back in middle school, a photo he’d once misplaced, a song he hadn’t heard in years but still remebered some of the words too. 

He knew her. He knew her. 

Steve thought about the girl so much, so often, that it didn’t take him long to think of her, to refer to her, as you. You were someone he’d once known, from a memory or another dream, he wasn't sure. It was the same feeling as watching a movie and seeing a pretty actress on screen, in a different outfit with different hair but knowing her face and wondering what show he’d seen her in before. 

Except with this, there was an aching want that buried itself in his chest at the sight of you, an awful feeling that grew larger each night. And every time his wall cracked open again, it seemed like his ribs did too. A crushing feeling, a yawning expanse inside his body that made room for the way his heart seemed to grow and grow at the sight of you. 

Yearning, that’s what he thought it was. A slow, burning build of it. 

The second night, he dreamt of you in a garden. A sprawling, green lawn with a pond so green-blue it made his eyes hurt. There was an awning beside it, a pergola of sorts made of white stone and it had ivy growing between the pillars, covering the roof and reaching down to trail its flowers in the water below. You were closer than before, than you were in the window, and Steve could see the way your lashes hit your cheeks as you looked down, stitching something that you held in your lap. 

There was a wicker basket beside you, a loaf of fresh bread wrapped in a cloth and he could still smell pomegranates, sweet and tart. There was a space beside you on the blanket, enough room for two but no one else came. 

You were always alone. 

Steve tried to talk to you, to reach out and see if this gate worked like the others, if he could walk through into this other world, this other dimension, but it didn’t work. 

Not yet, anyway. 

You seemed to notice him more on the fifth night, as he watched you walk along the edge of a lake. Your hair was shorter now and your clothes had changed. They look more modern, more like his, the cabins behind you reminiscent of a summer camp, a holiday lodge or something. He could hear music, a song he swore he heard on the radio not too long ago and that night, you watched him back. 

It seemed like you were waiting for someone. And when Steve saw your face light up with a smile, his heart stumbled. You raised your arm, reaching out a hand to the edge of the gate, off to the side as if someone else was in Steve’s walls. He saw another hand reach for yours, larger, definitely male, with a freckle where the thumb joined the palm. 

The jealousy he felt was unmatched, a burning thing that scorched his chest and his throat, hot needles at the back of his mouth. Before the man came into view, the crack in his wall trembled and the gate stitched itself closed once more, leaving plaster dust and flakes of paint on his carpet. 

Apart from the small mess, no one would have ever guessed another world opened up inside of Steve Harrington’s bedroom each night. 

It took him a week and half to notice his hand had a freckle in the same spot. A small beauty mark he’d never really paid attention to before, painted in the space that joined his thumb to his hand. He tried not to read too much into it, tried not to hold onto the hope that maybe it meant something - because none of this made sense, not really. 

They were just dreams. Strange things, brain scrambling things. But it was a welcome reprieve from death and darkness and vines that held onto him too tight. He no longer woke up in a cold sweat, he no longer wished for morning to come, no matter how tired he felt when he opened his eyes. 

Steve wondered if anyone else was experiencing these kinds of dreams. If the rest of the party were getting glimpses of other worlds, other timelines. He wasn’t sure what they were, too scared to ask, too afraid to make everyone else worry. The thought that these dreams could be a trick crossed his mind more than once, a new tactic from Vecna, an infiltration of his sleep that was meant to lull him into some kind of false sense of security. 

Safety - an unknown feeling. 

But everyone else spent their days talking about school and their new bosses, the fair that was coming to town to celebrate the town hall finally being rebuilt. No one mentioned Vecna or dreams or gates or girls they knew from somewhere they couldn’t place. 

So Steve accepted the fact that whatever these dreams were - whatever they meant - they were just for him. Which meant that you were his too. 

Weeks went by with Steve viewing you from the split in his wall, sometimes hearing music, sometimes hearing your muffled voice. Never real words, never loud enough to hear and it didn’t seem like you could hear him either. But Steve watched, enraptured, following you around different parts of the world, new countries and scenes that he could never really place but, oh my god, each one felt like home with you in it. 

Then one night, he saw himself. 

He felt the surge of panic flood him even in his sleep, his body jolting against his bed as he saw the familiar face, staring back at him, nonplussed. He looked a little different, maybe older. His hair was shorter at the back, cropped closer to the nape of his neck but the biggest difference was how happy he looked. 

This Steve, the one in his dream, inside this gate - this Steve from another time, another life - he looked lighter. He didn’t have purple smudges under his eyes, no deep lines settling across his forehead from frowning so much. His clothes were different too, looser, less fitting, the colours more muted. He wore a pair of jeans that looked much more comfortable than his tight Levi’s, a soft burgundy sweater that had the sleeves rolled up. 

Steve didn’t recognise where this dream took place, but he knew it wasn’t Hawkins. America, yeah, the street signs and licence plates on the cars in the street giving that detail away, but he wasn’t too sure where. The buildings were bigger, shinier, more glass than brick but the skies were still blue and it looked peaceful, warm. 

Safe. 

Dream Steve strolled down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, looking back over his shoulder every now and then as if to make sure the real Steve was following him. He walked past storefronts and stopped to pet a dog, a golden retriever who was waiting for his owner outside of a bakery. When he came to a bookstore, Steve could see a large building in the distance, a huge billboard atop it that looked like it was advertising a new movie, or a show maybe. It didn’t have much details on it, no actors nor dates to tell what year this was supposed to be. 

Certainly not 1988. 

It only had lettering across it, big and bold and red against a pristine white background: “ANOTHER LIFE.”

The bell to the bookstore jingled and then Steve saw you. As pretty as you had been in every other gate, every other world, every other lifetime. Like a figurine inside a snow globe, like something from a fairytale. Steve had never seen you this close before. 

He watched your smile, the way it widened at the sight of his counterpart, this other version of him. You were so pretty that his breath got caught in his lungs, his sleeping body kicking out in shock when you lunged at the dream version of him, throwing your arms around his shoulders in greeting. 

Steve watched the two figures embrace on the street, he watched how this luckier man got to bring his hand to your cheek and hold to there to kiss, how his lips - Steve’s own lips - met your own and parted them, mouths melting together in something that was so much more than a quick hello. 

Steve didn’t have it in him to feel jealous then. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to. He watched the hand that held your jaw, the thumb that caressed your cheekbone as you grinned into him, your own hands clutching his waist now. There was a freckle, the same as the one he had on his own hand, in the matching spot on yours. This Steve took that hand and kissed that very mark, smacking kisses across your palm and up your wrist until you were laughing, head thrown back, eyes bright. 

Steve hadn’t seen anything so happy. 

He woke up before the dream finished, before the gate closed. Steve woke up with tears stinging at the corners of his eyes, his vision blurry in the navy gloom of his bedroom. It wasn’t yet morning. There was no gate on his bedroom fall, no new city between the plaid striped wallpaper. 

He thought it could’ve been Chicago, maybe New York. Perhaps Philadelphia. 

He wondered if he left and went looking for that bookstore, that street, that billboard, he’d find you too. If he was supposed to, if you were real, if this life was all he was supposed to get. 

Something told him otherwise, that open crack inside his chest that made him ache for hours after he awoke. He never forgot about you during the day, each life he’d watched you live, how you had grown your hair out and then cut it, how you seemed to change your clothing depending on where you were, from old petticoats to jeans and shirts with logos on them he’d never seen before. 

Steve felt like he’d lived a thousand lives with you. 

He wasn’t sure what he had to do to get you in this one. 

After two weeks of dreaming of this life with you, one that he was so sure would happen, he spoke to Joyce. He waited until the kids dragged Hopper out into the yard to help them with some sort of rocket they wanted to make and he found her in the kitchen. It was the closest kind of feeling he had to home - bar from the sight of you, but he wasn’t really sure if that counted when he was asleep. 

So he tried to sound casual when he leaned over the Byers kitchen counter, elbows avoiding the jelly stains that Mike had left after making a sandwich, and asked, “hey, uh, do you believe in soulmates?”

Joyce blinked at him, flour and butter between her fingers as she tried to turn the page in her recipe book back to the instructions for apple pie. The book flopped shut when she let go, her hands reaching for a rag instead. Her eyes never left Steve’s. 

“Uh, well. I guess so,” she paused, head tilted to the side as she watched the younger man, how his cheeks turned pink and his gaze fell to the floor. “I haven’t thought about it all that much. Why’d you ask?”

Steve didn’t know what to say then. So he floundered, flushed in the face and nose scrunched as he ran his fingers through his hair too harshly, hoping that no one else walked in. What was he supposed to say? That he was dreaming of gates in his bedroom walls? But it was okay? ‘Cause these ones didn’t have monsters or creatures set out to kill him, no, these gates held something that he thought he’d once had, that they held something he was so sure he was supposed ot have again?

Maybe, just not in this life.

Maybe, this time, something was broken. Wires were crossed, cut, unravelled. Maybe the upside down messed up a timeline, maybe it ripped apart whatever plan it had originally laid out for Steve Harrington. 

He didn’t know. But he knew it sounded crazy, even in his head.

So he shrugged and said, “no reason.”

And then that night, after Joyce gave him funny looks over the dinner she served him and the rest of his friends, the kitchen table full, he went home and lay on his bed, hardly bothering to pull the sheets over his bare chest.

He counted his breaths, hoped for sleep and wished for you.

Like always, his room grew darker, his lids heavier and the crack in his bedroom wall crumbled and split until the dust settled and he saw your face. You were alone this time, pretty as ever and in the same looking city he’d last seen himself in. The skies were blue behind you, the buildings still tall and shiny looking, all glass window panes and metal framework. If he concentrated enough, he could smell summer.

Hot tarmac and sunscreen, fresh fruit from one of the stores behind you, tart lemons and freshly ground coffee. 

You were looking right at him and even in his sleep, Steve smiled. Your eyes were pretty, too pretty, the colour bright and your gaze excited as you gazed at him. Like you’d been waiting. You held out a hand, coaxing, kind, soft, patient. And for the first time, when Steve reached out too, his hand slipped through the gate. 

He was right, about the season, about it being summer. The air inside this world was warm on his skin, like the sun was on him despite being sprawled out in the blue gloom of his dark bedroom. It felt like a July morning, right before the heat hit. 

He was almost touching your fingers when he woke up alone again.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington au

[bittersw33t-lotus]

Foot Prints in the Snow

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem! Reader

Cw: pregnancy, fluff, ooc! Ghost, cursing? I mean It’s ghost.

An: second Ghost fic and I’ve already succumbed to having a baby fever-induced fic 😔 also this is short so let me know if you guys want a part 2. This is based off a tik tok i saw of this guy making footprints for his girlfriend in the snow so she doesn’t slip🥹

(I promise for you guys waiting for part two of great timing, I swear it’s coming out soon😭🫶🏼)

“Its just slush Sargent, you’ll be fine.”

“Nuh-uh, I’ve fallen one too many times on my ass Ghost. One more fall and I will break my tailbone.” You grip onto the railing already feeling your feet starting to slide underneath the slushy snow.

Ghost sighs and walks back over to you, he turns back around, his back facing you, before he takes a step and shimmies his foot side to side before lifting it and taking another step and repeating his actions leaving visible footprints on the ground, making the gravel more accessible to get more traction on the ground. You didn’t have to ask your lieutenant what he was doing, he was making a clear track for you to follow without walking in the slush.

You didn’t want to admit it, but your heart skipped a beat when you realized Ghost was putting in the effort to help you out instead of just leaving you to deal with not having to fall on your ass. As you began to follow him setting your foot in the tracks he left, you could see how your foot couldn’t fill his footprints entirely. You focused your eyes on the tracks below and soon enough the tracks lead right up to the passenger side of the car door and leading off to the other side where Ghost made his way to the driver side without sparing you a glance and acknowledgment for what he just did for you, like it was nothing.

“You really should get some boots or even ice cleats to walk in this weather, sneakers aren’t going to help you.” He says unlocking the car.

You smile and open the car door, “Why would I when I have you to help me out now.” You say sliding into your seat as Ghost starts to turn on the car.

You hear him huff out a laugh with but miss the way his gaze lingers on you for a second too long.

~~~~~

“You’re up late.” A deep voice booms through the darkness of the lounge room, the lights off with only the source of light coming from the fridge and moonlight seaping through the windows.

You’re squatted down as you rummaging through the fridges contents, at the sudden intrusion of silence from Ghost you gasp as you jolt and turn around. As you turn around, your eyes try adjusting in the dark, the lighting from the fridge having messed with your vision so it was hard to see Ghost in pitch black nothingness. His dark attire not helping much either. “Jesus Christ Ghost you’re gonna give everyone a heart attack if you keep going that,” You breathed out going back to rummaging in the fridge. “I got hungry and can’t sleep.” Ghost rolled his eyes, turning on the kitchen light before walking to the cupboards and pulling out a glass cup, “Why are you still up?” You ask eyeing him as he pours water into his cup.

“Bold of you to assume I even sleep.” He mumbles lifting up his mask revealing his blonde scruffy beard and soft pink lips, taking the cup up to his mouth and drinking the cold liquid, watching as the glass made contact with his soft lips. You quickly turn your attention back to the fridge deciding on a little snack that Gaz was probably saving but you couldn’t care, before you closed the fridge door. You stand back up and began to eat the food.

Once you finished chewing, you look over to your lieutenant to see the the mask was pulled back down covering his face once more, “When’s the last time you slept sir?” You asked, the silence was long as he stared into his cup.

You began to question if he even heard you until he shrugs and sets the cup down on the kitchen counter. “Probably three days now.” He says, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. He looks away upon seeing your concerned expression at his answer, dismissing your concern with the wave of a hand. “Don’t be surprised, I’ve gone longer that this without sleep.” He says.

“You really shouldn’t continue feeding into the habit Ghost.” You say, however it’s nothing but silence on Ghosts end, you can see his body becoming tense and his eyes tell you enough he’s becoming a little agitated so you back down and shift the topic of conversation . “You wanna go for a walk?”

He looks at you with a raised brow. “What for?”

You shrug and look down at the food in your hand, “I dunno, I can’t sleep and you’re obviously not going to sleep at all- so instead of just being in our rooms, I’d think going outside for a bit would seem better.”

Ghost thought on your offer, “eh,” he breaths out leaning off the counter, “why not.”

The smile that made it way to your face almost made him crack the me himself, “Okay, let me get my jacket real quick.” You say not wasting a second and heading to your room.

Ghost waits by entrance door putting on his jacket and boots when you come out of your room sporting a jacket and the new pair of snow boots you bought. Ghost opens the door letting you go out first and following you, closing the door behind him.

You both agreed to walk near the forests, his flashlight lighting the path, the snow crunching beneath your feet leaving a trail of foot prints behind.

You decided to have some fun and slowly trail behind him and tried your best to walk in his footprints, a small smile on your face as you found amusement in it. Ghost didn’t even need to see what you were doing, this was a little habit you began to pick up ever since the day he helped you. He spaces out with thoughts of you and the little moments he savors with you outside of the field. He sees how you make an effort to talk and interact with him more but he’s honestly holding back in fear of being hurt should anything happen, weather you drift apart, leave the force or join another or even worse… you die.

Ghost wishes he wasn’t so closed off as he was because now it’s back fired on him since now he struggles to break free and open up to others, and he feels bad when he sees how you attempt to conversaré with him only for him to struggle to keep up with the conversation and leave due to embarrassment. As Ghost is lost in thought you began to drift off into thoughts as well.

You felt the walk was filled with a nice silence, but you’ve noticed how Ghost hasn’t even spare you a single glance or peeped a single word to you. Your mind began to wander as your pace began to slow not noticing how ghost was watching you. As you walked you began to think about how he hardly really talked to you, he talks to Johnny, Price and Gaz more often than he did with you maybe it was because he knew them for longer, but you wondered if maybe you annoyed him or you’re just to plain and boring to be around. ‘Is he uncomfortable? Is the silence awkward for him? Should I say something? What if I end up annoying him if I do try and talk? Does he hate walking with me? But If he didn’t want to be near me he would’ve declined my offer and gone by himself or stayed back at base. Unless he didn’t want to seem rude? No he definitely would’ve declined if he wanted to..’

Ghost eventually snapped back into thoughts and took notice at how faint your footsteps grew, he sees you’re a few feet away as you stare at the ground with a blank look, like your spaced out. “You alright?” Ghost spoke, breaking your train of thoughts, you look at him with a confused look before you nod. “You seem to be more present n’ your head then here. You space out a lot when your not in the field.” He said, he didn’t turn to look at you’re dumbfounded expression and opted to keep looking up at the sky.

“How could you tell?” You say as you began to pick up your speed and catch up to him making you way back to walking beside Ghost.

“You always stare at things wit’ a blank stare, and your don’t blink for hours on end like you’ve gotta starin’ problem, and when someone talks to you, you look lost.” He says finally turning his head to look at you.

“Is it really that obvious?” You cringe at the thought.

“Very.” You groan and turn away, feeling heat rush up your face in embarrassment. “‘S alright, I used to do it a lot when I was younger…” he says, his voice faltering a bit at his last words.

You look back at Ghost, “How’d you do it?”

He looks back at you with a confused look.

“How’d you stop spacing out I mean.”

He looks at the floor now, ‘My family died and I focused my entire life and thoughts into the army so I don’t have to think about them-’ He thinks. “I joined the army and set my sights on the military, basically burying myself in work.”

“Huh, seems like I should do that then.” You chuckle at your own joke but Simon doesn’t think so.

“No, wouldn’t recommend it. You’ll end up fucked in the head like me. You won’t be human.” He says.

Silence. Ghost begins to worry that maybe he’s gone too deep.

“You’re not.” You say, Ghost cant bring himself to look at you and looks at what little scenery he can see. “You’re not entirely fucked in the head, you still show us that you’re still a human being. I’ve seen how you act Ghost, you show glimpses of the person- the man you are under that mask. Like right now.”

Ghost hears your footsteps stop, so he stops. He turns around and looks you in the eyes. Your smiling at him and his heart skips. He feels a rare feeling bubbling in his stomach, one he hasn’t felt In a while. ‘The man I am under the mask…’ He thinks.

“You noticed how I act out of work and you asked if I’m alright. When I got shot for the first time durning that mission in France, while we waited for evac, I was loosing my shit thinking I was gonna die even though the bullet was in my thigh,” You laugh at the memory. “You talked me through the pain and anxiety I was feeling and told me I was alright, you taught me the breathing techniques and proceeded to make shitty military jokes all to distract me from the chaos ensuing around us as I sat there bleeding.” Ghost remembers that time, you were on the team for almost a year, a rookie on the team but you were one of the best soldiers Price ever saw and that’s why you made it to the task force, you could handle being harmed by the hands of others, wither it be by their hands, being sliced by knives, pepper sprayed, tasered, or hit with inanimate objects you took it like a pro but you never got experienced the power of a bullet before, so when you finally got shot for the first time, the shock made you hysterical and the anxiety wasn’t helping you. It was just you and him teamed together. Despite seeing multiple things in his time in the army, seeing others shot, including himself, it wasn’t new. He was almost desensitized to it minus the pain that came with it, but when it came to you, he was almost scared. Hearing your scream in pain and fall to the ground he never felt his heart drop so hard in his life. He remembered breathing out in relief seeing the bullet was only in your thigh knowing you’d be okay, that you’d live.

“And there was also that time last year when it snowed and rained, the snow turned into slush, I didn’t have my snow shoes at the time and complained about not wanting to fall on my ass. You made a path of your foot prints from the building to the passenger side of the Jeep for me to walk in just so I wouldn’t slip. There’s times where you worry about the well being of Johnny, Gaz and Price and I during missions, especially when we got separated after the whole fiasco with Graves turning on us. Those are the moments where I don’t see a ghost of a man. I see Simon.”

Hearing you say his name made his heart skip a beat, now Simon knows for sure that he’s in love with you. “Thanks (yn).” He says with a small smile hidden behind the fabric of his balaclava.

This was the first time he’s heard you say his name, after the time in Las Almas when they were set to kill Graves, you were there when you saw his face for the first time and when Price used his real name. You got a glimpse of the real Simon for the first time. His eyes met yours and that was the first time he couldn’t tell what you were thinking but that was the day you knew you were in love with Ghost and Simon, the day you both finally gained each others trust, the day you smiled at him for the first time and made him fall even harder for you without even knowing it.

~~~~~

“Simon I can’t find my shoes again.” You call out from your bedroom you share with Simon. Looking inderneath you bed you can’t find your snow shoes to help you track through the ice.

“I think it’s still in the car with all the snow gear from last week.” He calls out from the kitchen already ready to head to the store but waiting for you to find your shoes.

You grunt and slam your head against the side of your mattress, the cushion bouncing your head. You remembered, last week you and Simon had gone snow boarding with the team, Price, Johnny, and Gaz, as a little gathering since you’re all on leave for a month. You and Simon had left all your gear including your snow clothes and shoes in the back of Simons truck. You heard footsteps thumping behind you, you turn your head around to see Simon entering your shared bedroom.

“Can you get them.” You plead. Simon chuckles before walking back out of your bedroom.

“Fine.” He agrees walking out the house.

You sit on your bed and wait for Simon to come back. After a few minutes pass, you grew confused, ‘Can he not find them? He’s been out there for a minute’ You think which makes you groan. Finally you hear the front door close and hear his footsteps approaching the room. You look back up at your boyfriend and don’t see your boots in either of his hands. “Are they not there?” You ask.

Simon shakes his head ‘No’ throwing his hands up in defeat. “It’s alright though, let’s just go.” He says as you sigh. You follow him out the door and wait beside him as he closes the door. You take a look at the truck when you notice a trail of his foot prints leading up to the passenger side of the truck. “Go on.” He says placing a hand on your lower back.

You stare at him for a few seconds until it clicks in your brain. You smile at Simon and kiss his cheek, “Thank you Si.” You say before walking into the snow, you place your feet in the tracks he’s already placed in a range wide enough for you to walk in, memories flooding back to you to that one winter, before you got your boots. You smile at the memory as Simon stands by the door watching you step in his tracks with a wide smile on his face. You finally make it to the passenger door and turn around to look at Simon and see the smile etched on his face. “Cmon doofus hurry up and unlock the door I’m freezing my ass off.” You laugh out.

Simon chortles a laugh, he presses the button allowing you to open the door and climb into the truck taking your seat on the already warmed seat, Simon opens his door. You turn around to place your bag in the back seat when a certain item caught your eye. “Heyy, my boots were back here.” You say grabbing the boots and looking at Simon, whom suspiciously acted surprised.

“Oh, I’d didn’t see them there. My bad.” He looked away and focused on buckling his seat belt.

“Uh-huh…” you squint your eyes at him before you paused. Simon was outside long enough to check the entire truck, you also remember hearing the truck doors open and close before it was silent for a minute. “You purposefully left them here just to watch me struggle to get to the car didn’t you?” You deadpanned.

You couldn’t miss the small smile that made its way to Simons face, “It’s entertaining to see you walk in my foot prints and as much as I hate saying the word, it’s kinda cute to watch.”

You roll your eyes at him before buckling yourself in, as Simon pulls out the driveway, you take off your shoes and replace them with your boots.

~~~~~~

“Simon I’m fine, I walked perfectly fine at the house.” You sat in the passenger seat of the truck with the door open as you watch your husband set out tracks for you on the snow again. The first show of winter arrived yesterday with 5 inches of snow fall over the night. You had an appointment the very next morning to get a check up, but due to the unexpected snow the snow plower trucks were delayed until late morning to arrive at the hospital and the staff couldn’t bother to shovel the gigantic parking lot only the side walks and front entrance.

So Simon ‘forced’ you to stay on the porch as he made footprints for you to follow as you bring out your phone to start recording Simon making tracks, you silently slide off the seat and onto the ground the best you could, placing your feet in his footprints you began. You try to capture your feet but your protruding belly gets in the way, it’s been difficult to see your feet for quiet some time ever since you hit 7 months into your pregnancy. You angle your camera back you to Simon and began to waddle your way towards your husband. He could hear snow crunching and snapped his head back towards you to see you a few feet away from the truck and struggling a bit.

Without a second thought, Simon quickly makes his way to you taking hold of your free hand to help steady you, “I thought I told you to stay on the truck until I’m done.”

You scrunch your face at him as you stop walking. “I told you I was fine, I’m still perfectly capable of doing things Simon. I’m not the baby here so there’s no reason to worry so much.”

He rolls his eyes and grumbles, “I’ll give plenty of good reasons; you can’t see your bloody feet which makes your balance arse, you waddle like a penguin, you walk slow,” He lists off things in a ‘matter of factly’ tone. You glare at him as he smirks and snakes an arm around your waist with the other holding your hand. “Do I need to bring up the amount of times you’ve almost tripped and missed steps on the stairs and little cracks in the sidewalks?”

“Okay, okay- I get it.” You glare at him as he began to lead you up to the entrance, “You’re a pain in my ass.” You jokingly laughed out.

Simon let’s out a chuckle, “Yea? It’s a pain in my ass having to make tracks for you just so you don’t fall on your ass.”

“You have the choice to stop but you don’t, you love me too much to stop.” You purr out giving him a kiss on his cheek.

Simon chuckled and kisses your forehead, “That I do love,” his hand on your waist shifts forward the the side of your belly, rubbing your bump covered by your jacket. “That I do.”

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon x reader #ghost x reader #cod mw2 x reader #mw2 ghost x reader #cod mw2 ghost x reader

[acowardinmordor]

You Left Me - You Miss Me - 4

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

Hi, time for more, arguably making things better, but also arguably making things much worse.

----

There was a diner a block and a half from their apartment. Steve found it when the sky opened up during his jog one morning. Snow, he could have handled, he was dressed for it. Slushy sleet mixed with hail was another matter. He ducked inside to hide until it passed, chatted with the owner for a bit, and brought Robin with him the next day because they had an amazing spread of waffle toppings, including crumbled bacon, and Steve knew she’d go crazy about it.

He was correct, and it was their go to spot, not just for breakfast. 

At the end of January, Rebecca sat down to join them, and handed Steve an application. 

Steve was already working at a JC Penny in the stock room, and picked up a few hours at a roller rink filling in when someone called out. They had enough money to live. Not decadently, but they could cover all their bills, and keep gas in the car, and buy supplies for Robin’s classes.  

“Uh, Rebecca, I’m- thank you? But. My memory sucks, and my hearing isn’t great, and if someone starts getting rude, I’m going to get rude back to them, and --”

“This is a diner, hun,” she stopped him, “You write the orders down, you can always tell someone to say it again, and the fact you can shut down anyone that gives you lip is why I think you’ll be good at it. Like I said, it’s a diner. We don’t have to be all sunshine and daisies here.”

“I’m working at another--”

“Over at the mall and the rink, I know. And I know you’re free Monday through Wednesday mornings. And,” she stressed, “staff gets free meals and first dibs on the day olds.”

“Dingus!" Robin gasped and grabbed his arm. "Do it, do it. Stevie. Please, oh my god, please, you have to take it. You can bring me the brioche buns. And that apple butter. And that thing with the nuts! Steeevveee, don’t you love your soulmate? Please? I cou--”

So Steve took the job, and worked a few mornings a week. By the third week of February, he stopped feeling like he was going to fuck up any second. He understood why Rebecca liked his ability to get bitchy in the face of difficult customers, and he and Robin had cupboards well stocked with random take homes. 

He liked it. Starting at five in the morning took some getting used to, but he was done by one, and traded off with a middle aged mom named Susan after the lunch rush settled down. Was it a ton of money? No. But he got more tips than he expected to, and the brioche really was delicious. 

The last week of February, he was working alone on a Tuesday, at the start of the lunch rush, expecting Susan to arrive soon, and an easy day. 

“Be with you in a minute,” he called to whoever just came inside, bussing half a dozen empty plates from table two after dropping off more creamer at table four. He looped back, ducking behind the counter to put the plates on the pass through for Nick to grab. 

He dropped the entire stack before he got there.

His hands clenched down, his muscles locked, and even though it should have made him hold harder, everything slipped, and either shattered on the tiles or banged into his feet.

Jim Hopper winced from his seat at the counter. “Sorry, kid.”

The couple of other diners glanced up to check on him, and John looked around the window from the kitchen. Steve didn’t move. Couldn't. Could barely breathe.

“Is it back?”

“No.”

His exhale shook out of him before he shoved down the panic.

“Then whatever this is can wait.” 

“I’m just here to talk.”

“And I said it can wait.”

He swept up the broken dishes, shrugged off John’s silent offer to throw Hopper out, and reminded himself there was no reason to think that the Upside Down was back. That meant this was going to be more awkward and less dangerous, and he was going to hate it, but it was still the better version of the day. 

“What’ll you have?” 

“Kid, I’m here to talk cause I didn’t think you’d want me at your place.”

“And I’m at work, and this is a diner, so what’ll you have?”

“Steve--”

“I’ll bring you coffee. I’m not talking about this while I’m working.”

“Coffee’s good. When are you off?”

Steve gave his bitchiest smile, didn’t answer, and went to seat the couple that just walked in. 

The lunch rush was a mercy. Susan handled Hopper, and gave him the iciest service anyone had ever gotten under that roof. Hopper took it gracefully, but he didn’t shift, or push, or give any indication that he wasn’t willing to sit there til midnight if he had to. 

Normally, Steve would get some lunch to go and head home. If the weather was bad, he ate at the booth in the corner to wait it out. With the way his stomach was twisting, unable to separate Hopper from what his arrival could mean, he wasn’t going to keep food down. He filled a glass of water, then silently gestured Hop to follow. 

“Good to see you, Steve,” he said when they sat. “You and Robin doing okay up here?”

“We’re fine. Why are you here? If it isn’t something to do with, you know, then why are you here?”

“Maybe I just came up to check on you.”

“Did you?” Steve snorted into his drink when that question made Hopper’s face twist up. “So what is this?”

“I am here to check on you. There’s something else, but I came here because I’m checking on you. Me and you weren’t all that close, but you had Mrs Buckley give me your info so I’d know where you were.”

“Yeah, in case of an emergency. And you said there wasn’t any emergency. Plus, you had my phone number, so you could have called, which would be way less weird than showing up while I’m at work, you know?”

Hopper scratched at his cheek. “It’s not an emergency compared to all the reasons you wanted me to be able to find you, but if you ask those kids, this may as well be the end of the world again.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right.”

“Yeah, well. Henderson is gonna get himself arrested if he keeps trying to steal the mail and find something addressed to you. Max keeps pushing El to try and find you. The only reason they haven’t gone completely crazy is because of the Buckleys telling them that you’re fine. She gave me your address and number, and she talked for a little bit about the kids.” 

Steve smiled at that. Mrs Buckley had never talked a ‘little bit’ about anything in her life. Either she was holding the line on being rude to anyone that might bother them, or Hop was pretending he hadn’t listened to a solid hour of rambling.  

“Still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

“Want to ask if I can -- shit, I don’t know. I can route mail back and forth so they never have your address or something. I’d rather give them your info so I don’t have to be involved, but I already know you won’t agree to that.”

Steve ignored the pause that Hopper left there. Conversation and good manners said he should concede to something so he wouldn’t inconvenience the man too much. The last month with Robin supporting his choice kept his mouth shut. She’d be pissed at him if he folded, and worse, she’d help him get through all the pain it caused if he did talk to the kids again. Then he’d feel guilty and sad. 

“Alright,” Hopper grumbled, “Didn’t think you would, but you know how those kids can be. Can’t fault me for trying.”

“So, we’re done? You sat here all this time just to talk for three minutes?”

“Almost.” 

“So….” At least Steve could enjoy the fact that neither of them were enjoying this.  Hopper winced a bit before he spoke. 

“I didn’t tell any of the kids I was coming up to see you. None of them knew, and none of them are gonna know. Didn’t even tell Joyce why, just that I was driving up to Indy. Already had a plan in case they tried to tail me up here. So, had a surprise this morning when I got to my truck. it might change your answer.”

“Didn’t know you were so dramatic about stuff.”

“Side effect of two hours with that surprise, I guess. Eddie Munson came up with me.”

Any of the kids would have hurt. 

Henderson might have made him cry. 

Eddie Munson? That didn’t make sense. 

They weren’t friends, never had been. The Upside Down meant they were connected, but they were never more than acquaintances, even when Steve was desperately trying to keep them all close. Sure, he’d taken over as the chauffeur for the kids, and everyone’s new best friend, but that didn’t explain why he’d bother to come up to talk to Steve. 

“What the hell? Why?”

“He asked.”

“And you said yes.”

“He said please.”

That was not the whole story. There was something getting skipped over, left out. Hopper tolerated Munson, but he wouldn’t do him a favor if there wasn’t some kind of monster involved. 

“Wait, you’ve been here for two hours.”

“Yep.”

“Did you just leave him in your truck this whole time? That front came through overnight. The high is thirty four today.”

“Yeah, I did,” Hopper said flatly. “He told me he wanted to come up so he could talk to you. Told me a little bit about why. And I said yes and I let him come, but I told him that I was gonna talk to you first. If you said no, he was gonna stay in that seat clear back to Hawkins, and keep his mouth shut about this whole thing.”

“How’d he know what you were doing?”

“No clue.”

“What does he want to talk about?”

“Not gonna say it for him.” Hopper shifted towards the edge of the booth. “So, want me to tell him to buckle back up, or tell him to get his ass in here?”

A quick consult with the imaginary Robin in his head left him just as confused, but curious as hell. He agreed, and fidgeted with a napkin, struggling to think of any reason why Eddie Munson would want to talk to him, or what the hell he said that the kids hadn’t that convinced Hopper to drive him up. 

Stuck in his head, Steve jumped when a mess of a man in denim and leather slid shivering into the seat opposite. The scars on his face and hands were less vivid than they were last time they saw each other, but they still worked as a thermometer. Steve's did the same.

“Why the hell were you sitting in the cold, man?”

Eddie blinked, and froze where he was rubbing his hands together trying to get feeling back. “Hopper took the keys.”

Steve’s turn to blink. This was the guy taking care of his kids. 

“Susan?” He called, gesturing for two when she lifted the coffee carafe in a question.

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Dude, I don’t know what the hell you’re doing here or why you care or what the hell is happening, but I’m not gonna let you sit there shaking cause you’re a dumbass who doesn’t know what gloves are.”

Steve watched packet after packet of sugar pour into Eddie’s, while he stirred a splash of half and half into his own cup. Eddie took a gulp, hissed at the heat, and clutched at the mug, eyes glued to the nicked surface of the table. 

“I’m sorry.”

“For rotting your teeth out? That’s your choice, Munson.”

“No,” Eddie insisted, voice hoarse, “I’m sorry about the kids.”

Steve took a breath, took a sip, took another breath. “Look, man, that’s not on you. You play D&D with them, and you like all their nerdy shit. I was -- They grew up. We got through everything, all of that, we won, and they grew up. It’s not your fault that they like you more than they liked me. So, thanks, I guess, but--”

“Steve. No. They didn’t. They -- those kids did not suddenly grow up and decide they didn’t like you anymore. You are their favorite person anywhere, ever, you will be for the rest of eternity, and they don’t understand why no one will tell them how to reach you. They put on a really good show about being mad about it, but, come on, you know what they’re like. They want to apologize cause they know they hurt you, and they want to fix it, and just, you gotta let them try, Steve. You gotta let them talk to you. They miss you so fucking much.”

“Look, I know how they get, and I know how dramatic they are, but it’s still not your fault--”

“It is. Steve. It is my fault. That’s - That’s why you have to talk to them. Cause they didn’t grow up and get over you or decide they didn’t care about you. Those kids are crazy about you, and they never stopped, and they’re hurt right now cause they don’t understand why you left them, and you gotta fix it with them, please.”

Something pinged weird in his ear when he heard the way Munson’s voice cracked. Not just worry, not just helping, not just caring about the kids. Guilt. He was taking the blame for it, even though that didn’t make any sense. The kids were - brats, gremlins, terrors, the most stubborn people he’d ever met, and he knew Nancy Wheeler. If they wanted to be around him, they would be around him. 

It wasn’t Eddie’s fault, or anyone’s fault. It hurt like hell, and Steve wished it wasn’t true, but this was just life. Kids grew up, their interests moved. Friendships changed and ended. 

But that crack of guilt…

“How is it your fault and not theirs that they stopped wanting to ever see me?”

Eddie’s hands stopped shaking from the cold before he got the coffee. 

His hands were shaking again.

Trembled in the time between Steve asking, and Eddie managing to respond.  

“I, uh, I asked them to.”

----

Don't be too mad at him yet. He has a lot more to say.

Part Five >>>

#You Left Me - You Miss Me #my writing #steddie eventually #focus on the eventually today

[waywardducks]

Incorrect bat family quotes but as things me and my sibling have done/said.

Jason: *just trying to read* *feels an eery presence just watching him.*

Damien and Tim: *both just starting at him*

Jason: Yes? Can I help you?

Tim: Slushies

Jason: okay?

Damien: Take us to them.

-✨✨✨✨✨✨

Dick: *Chilling in his bed*

Cass: *very slowly opening the door to his room*

Both: *just stare at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time*

Dick: Please, child. What is it? I can't handle this suspense.

Cass: *quietly* I have a pool party today…

Dick: okay? I'm glad for you.

Cass: …

Cass: Can you go buy me tampons?

Dick:

Dick: Of fucking course I can go buy you tampons! *already jumping out of bed* What size?

-✨✨✨✨✨✨

Damien: *angry, slamming doors, punching walls, screaming at everyone*

Tim: Autism is one hell of a bitch

Dick: Tim, no

Jason: No, no, he's got a point. We really should get him checked out.

Damien: I CAN HEAR YOU

*he was diagnosed with autism the following month*

-✨✨✨✨✨✨

Stephaine: *putting makeup on Cass* almost done!

Tim: we need to hurry, the movie is starting soon

Stephanie: It's fine, we have plenty of time, now let me do your makeup.

Dick: What are y'all doing? Why is everything… pink?

Cass: We are going to watch Barbie

Dick: Can I come?

Steph: Nah it's girls night?

Dick: Then why is Tim going?

Steph: He's one of the girls, obviously.

Tim: Yeah, obviously.

Dick: *crying* I wanna be one of the girls too

-✨✨✨✨✨✨

Bruce: Hey, Tim

Tim: Yeah? What's up?

Bruce: Remember how you're therapist mention she thought you might have ASD?

Tim: Yeah, she said she wasn't %100 percent sure on it though.

Bruce: Well she just sent me a document confirming your diagnosis.

Tim:

Dick: Woah dude! Congrats on the tism!

Jason: Welcome to the spectrum little bro!

Damien: Is Dick the only one that isn't ASD?

Dick: *is sad bc he's left out of the club again*

- ✨✨✨✨✨✨

Dick, Tim, Jason and Damien: *driving down the road at 4 in the morning, blasting fnaf songs at full volume* IVE GOT NO TIME!! I've GOT NO TIME TO LIVE

-✨✨✨✨✨✨

Tim: Jason. I'm bi

Jason: Okay

Tim: Okay? That's all you have to say?

Jason: damn Tim, tf you want be to say? Sorry?

Tim: No! I just thought-

Jason: If you have boy problems go to Dick. He's the one with the most experience in that field.

Dick: Hey! I resent that!

Jason: Oh please, you can call yourself straight all you want but you and both know you've what kinda person you were when you first became Nightwing.

Dick: I wasn't gay Jason I was a slut its different.

Jason: sure, okay.

-✨✨✨✨✨✨

I'm gonna make this a series lmao. Being in a house with 6 kids gives you a lot of stories.

Also, yes, 3 of my younger siblings are officially diagnosed with autism. (Damien and my sister are literally the same person. I have so many headcanons about it, it's not even funny. She even has the same insane art skills, I'm terrified of how fast she learned to do things I've been in school for years to learn)

#stephanie brown #batman #bruce wayne #tim drake #dick grayson #dc comics #jason todd #cassandra cain #duke thomas #incorrect batfamily quotes #batfam #nightwing #red hood #red robin #robin

[flowersandbigteeth]

I’m not sure if your requests are still open, but if they are, would you be willing to do something for a faun in heat/a rut doing some sort of courtship ritual for his human mate? I’ll let you decide what he does for this ritual since I know you’ve said before you like more vague asks! (She/her for the human mate if you could?)

This story got a little dark, but is for the true yandere fans and not as sweet as I usually write ^_^ I can't believe I did two blizzard stories in a row without even realizing it until I went to pick the gif

General Plot: You bring home a drunk faun and get a bit more than you bargained for

Faun (Hawk) x female reader

Word Count: 3k

W: vague reference of murder and minor character death, spooky spells, sort of mind control? very yandere behavior sfw

“Hey…you ok?” you asked the Faun, glassy eyed, slouched on the side of the road. You picked up the open flask lying next to him and sniffed, pulling your head back as the stench of strong spirits hit your nose. 

He was handsome, even in his drunken state with pretty auburn hair sticking to his forehead and a sculpted physique. He was rather large for a faun with broad shoulders and thick, powerful legs tipped with hooved feet. Curling gold horns stuck out from his head, tangled with some dead grass. He lolled a bit, before trying to get up, only to slip in the snow and land face first in the slushy mud. 

“You’re going to freeze to death out here,” you said, frowning and glancing down the long empty road that you took to get home. He wasn’t from your village, you’d never seen him before. 

“Gnnnnghhg!” he moaned, rolling over on his back and spitting out mud. 

“Can you walk?” you asked, looking up at the sky, where gray clouds promising more snow accumulated overhead, “there’s a blizzard coming. You’ll die if you sleep here.” 

There was no way you could lift him and you wondered if you should run back to town and get some help from an Orc, but it was already late in the day. The sun was about to go down and everything would freeze soon. You weren’t sure if he would even survive the hour walk back to town. His gold skin was already looking a little blue and you had no way to know how long he’d already been out there.

He groaned again, so you heaved his thick arm over your shoulder and tried to help him up. It took a few tries and a lot of coaxing, but you finally got him on his own two feet. 

“My house isn’t far,” you told him, not that he was really paying attention, focusing on stumbling forward. 

“Ssssmell sssooo gooooo,” he murmured as you arduously helped him put one foot in front of the other, his horns knocking you in the face every time he turned his head. 

You didn’t normally pick up vagrants and take them home with you, but it was the middle of winter and your heart was too soft to let him freeze on the side of the road. You prayed to the goddess he wouldn’t make you regret it. 

After a long, exhausting walk, you let out a relieved sigh when you reached the gate to your little cottage in the woods. It was quaint, built by your late grandfather of carefully cut, interlocking stones, keeping it nice and cozy inside. 

Stuffing him through your rather small front door, you managed to get him on the couch which he promptly flattened with his weight. You sighed at the pile of splinters and fluff underneath him, but turned your attention to lighting your fireplace. Once you had a nice crackling fire going, you found a quilt big enough to almost fit over him and draped it over his prone body. 

He appeared to have fallen asleep, so exhausted you quickly fed yourself with some leftover bread and cuddled up in your oversized chair under another, smaller quilt to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t choke in his sleep. 

–

Hawk woke with a start and blinked at the wooden ceiling above him. The last thing he remembered he was dancing around a bonfire with his friends, drinking and celebrating their rut. There had been pretty maidens all around and music playing, the usual type of celebration for a faun, as well as lots and lots of alcohol. 

He didn’t normally overdo it, but apparently this time he had. The whole point of the celebration was to find a willing mate and he needed to be conscious to do that. He rolled over on his side to find himself in a small, warm home. He wondered if he’d found a mate after all and she’d taken him inside. Soft singing drifted to his ears from another room before you appeared holding a cup of water and some fresh bread. 

“You up?” you asked with a smile, “I was worried you would sleep all day.” 

Hawk blinked at you once, then twice before his own smile appeared on his face. He’d chosen a beautiful mate. He adored your pretty doe eyes looking down at him and the loose hair framing your face. The whole house smelled strongly of your sweet scent mingling with fresh bread. 

He accepted the cup and bread, drinking thirstily and taking a big bite out of the thick, soft slice, smeared with strawberry jam. 

“I’m (Y/N),” you told him, “I found you on the side of the road yesterday…do you remember that?” 

He shook his head, chewing on a large bite. You giggled. 

“That’s not surprising,” you said, “you were pretty drunk. It’s fortunate you could still walk or you might have died.” 

He frowned at you and swallowed heavily. 

“You weren’t at the party?” he asked and to his dismay you shook your head. 

“I don’t know anything about any party,” you explained, “I just found you passed out on the side of the road, like I said.” 

“Oh.” he said flatly. 

That meant he hadn’t found a mate as he’d assumed. You were just a good samaritan. Still, you were quite lovely. More lovely than any of the other women he’d seen at the celebration. 

“Is your husband around?” he asked, nervous to hear your answer. 

At that you laughed. 

“No…” you said slowly, “I don’t have a husband…”

He grinned. That was one obstacle he didn’t have to worry about, at least.  

“Name’s Hawk,” he said, holding out a large hand to you. 

Taking it you couldn’t help but notice how much bigger it was than yours, with long strong fingers. 

“Good to meet you,” you replied cheerfully before glancing outside, “you might want to head home soon if you want to beat the storm. It’s looking pretty bad outside.” 

He followed your eyes to the window where snow was being whipped around in the gradually rising wind. 

“Don’t think I’ll make it home before it hits,” he murmured, considering he didn’t actually have any idea where he was, “can’t I stay here?”

He watched your face fall with concern as you thought about it, but finally, deciding you couldn’t send him out into a blizzard, you nodded. He rewarded you with a handsome smile. 

Shifting on your destroyed couch, Hawk was becoming more and more aware of his rut. His skin was getting feverish and he clenched and unclenched his fists trying to stay his instincts. The longer he was alone with you, the more he was aware of the gnawing ache that was consuming him. 

His eyes drifted over your form, wrapped in a simple cotton dress with fluffy socks. He needed to rut you and mate you, but mating wasn’t as simple as throwing you on your back and having his way with you. There was a ritual to complete, one that would have been done in the company of his fellow fauns if he’d stayed at the party where he should have been. Blood had to be spilled, though usually it was done all together to prevent an unnecessary slaughter. Usually they sacrificed a pig or a sheep, some farm animal that wouldn’t be missed. Here, alone in your cabin with a blizzard outside, there was no apparent sacrifice available. 

His salvation came as a knock on the door. You almost didn’t hear it as the wind whipped outside, rattling the trees, but hurried to the door to see who could possibly be visiting you in these conditions. 

“Hello (Y/N),” your friend Quillon chirped, beaming down at you. 

His face was red and wind burned from the cold. 

“What are you doing here, Quillon?” you gasped, shuffling him in out of the snow, “the weather is terrible! You shouldn’t be out.” 

Before he answered, his eyes immediately shifted to the shirtless faun still sitting on what remained of your couch. 

Following his eyes, you found your cheeks warming. 

“Oh, this is Hawk,” you explained to the fairy, “I found him on the side of the road.” 

Quillon immediately frowned, but turned his attention back to you. 

“I wanted to make sure you were supplied for the blizzard,” he said. 

Hawk almost growled, with every passing second he was growing more attached to you. 

He’s probably trying to get “trapped” here just like me, he thought darkly, his sharp green eyes watching the way Quillon’s smile grew as he took in your little floral dress and plaited hair. He obviously liked you as more than just a friend. Well, that’s just too bad, Hawk thought to himself, she’s mine. 

“I brought more firewood and some food, enough to get you through a few days,” Quillon went on, easing himself into your living room to block Hawk’s view of you. 

“That’s so kind of you,” you beamed, then peeked back outside. You couldn’t see anything past all of the snow that was falling. You quickly shut the door to block out the draft. 

“It looks like you made it here just in time, but I doubt you’ll make it back safely. Why don’t you stay? With my food and yours there should be enough for all three of us,” you said. 

He glanced back at Hawk uncomfortably, before hurrying outside to bring in the supplies he’d brought. 

When everything was inside you made Quillon take off his boots and got him settled on your chair. 

“I should make us some lunch,” you decided, “I bet you both could use a warm meal.” 

Hawk and Quillon feigned good will in tandem, giving you bright smiles until you left the room and their faces dropped. 

“What are you doing here?” Quillon snapped, “why don’t you go back where you came from?” 

Hawk looked smug. 

“(Y/N) brought me here herself. I think she likes me,” he said. 

Quillon snorted. 

“(Y/N) has a warm heart, goddess bless her. I won’t let you take advantage of her kindness. You need to go,” he snarled back. 

“Like you can do anything about it,” Hawk said. 

“I’ll throw you out myself if I have to,” he growled. 

Hawk’s eyes glinted. 

“Maybe we should settle this outside,” he hissed, “I don’t think for a minute you could take me.” 

Quillon was already putting on his boots, prepared for a fight, despite the nasty weather and wind. 

“The faun and I are going to check the barn, sounds like one of the doors is rattling!” he called to you, watching Hawk warily rise to his full height. 

“Be careful!” you shouted back, working on chopping up meat for stew. 

Hawk laughed to himself as he followed Quillon outside. He had probably 70 pounds on him and Quillon wasn’t a small guy. Hawk’s eyes bled to red with murderous intent as they made their way through the wild wind and snow far enough away that you wouldn’t hear the fight. Of course, Hawk didn’t play fair. He didn’t wait for Quillon to square up, attacking him the moment he was out of shouting distance from your house. 

Quillon did shout, but it was muffled by the high wind and trees smacking together, creating a cacophony of sound that acted as the perfect cover. 

The fight ended quickly and in only a few moments, Quillon was motionless in the snow. He dragged his lifeless body into the barn, where he decided to stage the ceremony. Despite the protests of your pigs and goats, all of which could have been perfectly usable sacrifices, he cleared an area in the dirt floor and quickly used Quillon’s blood to draw the sacred sigil on the dirt floor before it got too cold to run freely. First he drew a large circle and then traced the magic symbols that would facilitate the binding. His chest puffed with pride that he’d dispatched his competitor and was going to bind you to him with his very blood. 

When he was happy with it, he carried the rest of your friend into the woods to be covered in snow until spring came months later. The last thing he had to do was drag the cart Quillon had brought with him to carry supplies out of your eyesight. Once you were bound it wouldn’t matter if you saw it, but until then he needed it hidden. It was cold and tough work, cutting through the wind, but the thought of his future plans warmed his heart. 

Brushing snow off of his shoulders he made his way back to your warm, cozy home. 

“Everything okay?” you asked, peeking your head out of the kitchen, “where’s Quillon?” 

He was a shockingly good liar, putting on an absolutely innocent face to answer you. 

“He said he was going to run home for some supplies he forgot while the weather isn’t too bad, looks like the doors of your pig pen are broken,” he said with a small smile, “said he’s afraid the pigs will wander out into the snow and freeze.” 

You frowned because you wouldn’t have felt comfortable traveling in the snow, but maybe Quillon was made from tougher stuff. 

“Broken?” you said, “that’s impossible! Those doors are made from solid oak, my grandfather made them himself.” 

He shrugged. 

“You can come see for yourself if you like,” he said, hiding the wiley smile that wanted to bloom on his face. 

You twisted your lip as you put on your warm coat and some heavy boots, following him through the blinding white snow to your barn. Inside, it was very dark, so you didn’t even notice  when you stepped into the sacred circle he’d crafted on the floor. 

“O woll teki yua hustegi end meki yua my wofi!” you heard Hawk boom into the barn, his loud, deep voice echoing off of the wall. 

Turning around, confused, you suddenly felt hot all over and your skin felt like it was prickling under your jacket. Around you, the circle he’d drawn glowed gold, casting eerie shadows on Hawks face, making him appear totally unhinged with the wide smile that grew across it. 

“Wha-” you started to say, but your words were caught in your throat as you were overcome with a wave of need. Your body needed his. You could feel it in your very bones. 

You stood there frozen, trying to comprehend what was happening, but your consciousness was drifting away, becoming more feral. Your mind was desperately seeking Hawk’s scent and his skin against yours. You crumpled to the ground, the last bits of sense bleeding out of you. 

Hawk chuckled, pleased that his spell had worked. You were his now. You could never love another, you would always be seeking him. Only his scent would smell like home to you, all others would smell rancid. Anyone else’s touch would burn. Another male’s kisses would make you nauseous. It was an ancient secret spell only the fauns knew and guarded very closely. 

You whimpered on the floor forgetting all about the barn door or where Quillon went. From then on you were Hawk’s and his alone. He scooped you up in his large arms and rather obediently you pressed your head into his chest, his scent and touch like a balm for your burning skin. 

“Don’t worry, darling,” he purred at you, knowing you were probably not thinking about anything at all but him. He kissed you on the head, making you mewl, the sensation sending a ripple of pleasure starting from that spot and rippling outward over you. You shuddered in his arms, trying to rub yourself against him, covering yourself in his scent. 

“I’m going to take good care of you, my pretty starling,” he assured you with a smug smile as he carried you through the snow back to now his home where you would start your life with your new mate.

#sfw yandere #male yandere #yandere fluff #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #monster lover #monster x reader #faun #monster x girl #monster oc #fantasy fluff

[scarvain]

omg i loved your hamzah fic! every time a hamzah fic shows up on the tl jesus sheds a tear!!

feel like it’s so awkward to request but would love for u to write about dating hamzah on the dl & being a guest on the patreon pod

giving relationship advice to some sad slushys while being all sweet n giddy with each other……

STAWWWPP I LOVE THISSSS I GOT U!!!

✶ sweet nothing — hamzahthefantastic x reader

WARNINGS: tooth-rotting fluff, i used the name junia for the slushy that msgd and reader has a dog named loki

A/N: i'm not subscribed to the patreon and i don't entirely know what goes on there BUT i just know hamzah's alone for that???? even in a fictional universe, hamzah still can't read too BAHAHAHA also sorry if this took so long, i had this in the drafts for a while but just finished it now!

the whole day, you’ve been overthinking about being on your boyfriend’s podcast.

you’ve been on out of character before but martin would also be there with you and hamzah.

so here you were, zoned out while your boyfriend explained everything you're gonna do for this episode.

"okay, so... are you ready?" he finally finished talking, now looking at you and then seeing the state you were in. his eyes soften and he walks toward you.

"what's wrong?" he held your hands in his as he tried getting your attention. you look up and give him a smile.

"just a bit nervous," you force a chuckle then he pulls you in to kiss your forehead. "you think they'll notice we're.. y'know." you tilt your head, placing a hand on his chest before wrapping your arms around his neck.

he shrugs in response, hands now on your hips, caressing the exposed skin from your top. "i don't know honestly but i don't think it'll be a big deal for them cause i love you."

you giggle before pulling him in for a kiss.

"okay let's start then!"

the podcast went on like it usually did, you and hamzah spoke about everything and anything you could think of — from the recent movies you've watched to activities you guys have been doing.

the next part of the podcast's segment was introduced by hamzah, he pulls out his phone and looks at his instagram messages.

"okay so this is the first one, i'll read it first and tell me what you think."

you nod at him to start the he starts to read.

"hi hamzah, i'm f-17 and i finish high school very soon. for the past year, i've realized that i lick—oh sorry it's like my best friend who's m-18 and he's had girls chasing him for a while now and he was entertaining them but ended up not having anything with any of the girls. but recently he's been hinting at liking me and flirting with me playfully i guess i don't know if i should let him know i like him, help me please."

you look at him to see if he was finished then he puts his phone down, now turning to look at you. “okay so you like your best friend that sounds familiar,” hamzah gives a teasing look to you with a smirk on his face.

you roll your eyes playfully, inching closer to him on the sofa until your knees are close to each other.

“i can relate to this, i was clueless too if he was flirting with me or not,” you glance between hamzah and the camera as you speak, holding the mic a bit closer. “but in the end it still worked out and he’s… well my boyfriend now!” you both chuckle and you feel yourself blush, hiding your face with the mic.

hamzah places a hand on your thigh which thankfully wasn’t caught in the frame. “oh my god okay, since you’re sooo happy talking about him, continue the story and give our girl… uh… wait what’s her name—oh there it is! junia!”

you get closer to hamzah, now shoulder to shoulder, and interlocking your hands with each other.

“okay so before i dated my boyfriend, he really wasn’t entirely my bestest best friend but more like a close best friend? he had a special place in my heart–”

“oh really what kinda special place?” he nudges you which you ignore.

“and even before i realized i liked him, it was like i’m always wanting to be around him or talk to him a lot.” your gaze was entirely on him as you said this, completely forgetting about the camera recording and a smile started to grow on hamzah’s face, looking down at his lap to try and hide it.

“i’ve known my boyfriend almost 5 or 6 years before we started dating and it really took me a while to realize i was in love with him.” you were already smiling at him, rubbing circles on the back of his hand.

his head shots up and looks at you, eyes a bit wide.

“wait you were in love already?”

you bite your lip to try and stop yourself from smiling bigger. “yeah, dude, i’ve told you this before!” you let go of his hand, the smile still prominent on your face as you punch his arm playfully.

“okay loser, just continue,”

you roll your eyes and scoff jokingly. “but in all honesty, i know i barely talk and post about my boyfriend but he knows i love him soooo much,” you look up at hamzah who was trying to hide his smile by biting the insides of his cheeks.

you lean closer to him before continuing. “so junia! if you really think you both like each other then go for it! you never know what could happen.” you said and it was like you had hearts as your eyes as you looked at hamzah.

he indistinctively puts an arm over your shoulder as the podcast continues, reading more of the messages and giving the viewers advice.

“oh hamzah! i think this one you can help with,” as you were about to show hamzah the message, your dog, comes out of the room and tries pulling you away from hamzah.

“jesus christ, loki, stop stealing my girlfriend.” he muttered but was still heard on the microphone.

you leave the couch for a while and place your dog in the room.

“okay so here’s the message.” you hand him the phone and he reads it.

“hi hamzah, i don’t know if you’re taken or single cause honestly you’ve been sending us mixed signals at the moment but if you are taken, can you help me flirt. i start college soon and i still don’t know how to talk and flirt with girls—okay i see what you’re trying to say here y/n what the hell.” he glares at you as he finally finishes reading and you stick your tongue out at him which he just smiles at.

"just a tip to everyone who's watching, never ask hamzah how to flirt cause this boy can't flirt to save his life!" you laugh as you said the joke, hamzah putting the phone down and covering your mouth to stop you from saying anything else.

the recording went on for a few more minutes, you ended the episode on a positive note since all you did was tease and make fun of each other.

"i don't think i'll ever be invited back here again after that, so bye you guys!" you blow a kiss to the camera before standing up and stopping the recording.

✶ taglist — @cdbabymp3 @noturbabe22 @dabuggh3 @kingvioleta @tumb1rgir1z LMK IF U WANNA BE ADDEDDD!!!

#hamzahthefantastic #hamzahthefantastic x reader #hamzah x reader #hamzah fanfic #savi's works ✶

[five-rivers]

Baroque

AO3

@echoghost1 @sorari

Sorry about the length.

“Ah,” said Frostbite, shielding his eyes as he looked up into the sky.  “I hadn’t realized we were so close to the turning of the age.”

Danny followed his gaze up, then froze.  The normally pure green Ghost Zone sky had a crack in it.  A long, jagged stripe of deep red, brighter at the edges than the middle, stretching from horizon to horizon.  It hadn’t been there when he’d arrived in the Far Frozen.  

“What is that?” he squeaked.

“It’s, ah.  I’m not entirely sure English has a proper word for it.  It’s a…  A change in the general ectoplasmic energy.  Perhaps the best comparison is flavor or spin in quantum particles, although you don’t have a background in that…  It’s…  It's caused by a shift in the character of the Realms.  A paradigm shift, if you will.  It will grow over time, until it’s the dominant ectoplasmic color and mood.  Although,” he added, almost as an afterthought, “it may not stay this color.  I am rather hoping for blue this time, or perhaps yellow, but I must confess to frequent disappointment on that count.”

Danny looked back and forth between Frostbite and the red crack.  Frostbite’s easy acceptance of the phenomenon put him more at ease, but, still, it was disturbing.  “So… it just means that the Ghost Zone won’t be green anymore?  It’ll be red?  Will my ectoplasm turn red?”

“It usually doesn’t affect the ectoplasm color of individuals,” said Frostbite.  His nose scrunched up.  “But it would be incorrect to say that changing the color of the Realms is all it does.  He patted Danny on the shoulder.  “Why don’t we wrap up our sparring session, now, and I can tell you about it over a cup of chocolate?”

“Frozen chocolate?” asked Danny, knowing that was the default in the Far Frozen.  

“Slushy,” said Frostbite.  “Just the way you like it.”

Danny gave the news a little fist pump… but his eyes trailed back up to the crack.  It didn’t look like it was getting wider yet.

Getting the chocolate was a matter of minutes, and soon enough they were seated inside, next to a heatless fire.  

“So,” said Danny, stirring his chocolate with a ghost ice spoon, “that crack in the sky…”

“Yes,” said Frostbite.  “It is disconcerting the first few times.  But how to explain…”  He drummed icy claws against the sides of his oversized mug.  “Ah.  Yes.  You are aware that the human world has many different conceptions of the afterlife?”

“Yeah,” said Danny.  “But I thought that they were just looking at different Realms.”

“To some degree,” agreed Frostbite.  “But they were often also looking at the Realms at different times.  For example, at different points in the past, there has been little distinction between, say, fairies and ghosts, or angels and ghosts, or, even, deities and ghosts.  The turning of the age is an aesthetic shift, one that affects almost all ghosts to some degree or another.  Red ectoplasm, for example–” Frostbite sighed, heavily, “--is typically the indicator of a more ‘monstrous,’ or ‘demonic’ appearance and general aesthetic.”

Danny continued to stir his chocolate.  “Are you saying that the Ghost Zone has, what, artistic movements?”

“Something like that, yes,” said Frostbite.  

“Then what aesthetic are we in right now?”

Frostbite tapped his chin.  “Green is… not entirely neutral, but tends not to be terribly forceful and allows ghosts like you to remain almost as you were in life.”

“And… the other colors?”

“Generally,” stressed Frostbite, “blue is suggestive of a more heavenly or divine mien.  Yellow, orange, and earth tones are, as their name indicates, more Earthly.  Purple tends to evoke fairies and their like.  But those are generalities.”

“And red is for hell?”

“Yes.” 

“And ghosts are changed by this?  Not just the way things work?”

“Oh, yes,” said Frostbite.  “After all, your form interacts with your environment.  There’s feedback.  I believe your human form should be unaffected, however, much as it is unaffected by the changes to your form that you initiate, such as… duplication.”

Danny made a face.  He didn’t like that pause.  So he was still trying to get the hang of duplication.  So what?

“And… how would my ghost form change?”

“I do not know,” said Frostbite.  “The changes are not easily predictable, and sometimes they stick.”  He gestured at himself.  “If it makes you feel better, we can monitor you?”

“No, that’s fine,” said Danny.  He put his mostly untouched chocolate to one side.  “I should go home.  Lots of things to freak out about.”

.

“You’re going to turn into a demon?”

“That’s not what I said!” protested Danny, looking up from his stack of syllabi to glare at them.  They were too busy playing foosball to notice.  “I might wind up looking like a demon.  There’s a difference.”

“Still pretty cool,” said Sam.  

“Uh, no it isn’t.  I have enough trouble getting people to like me without showing up looking like a demon.  I can’t believe this.”

“I wonder if this will change any of your parents’ theories?”

“They’ll probably decide that every culture’s traditional depiction of demons was one hundred percent accurate and that it’s proof that ghosts are evil.”  He shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I’m not my parents.”

“Something we thank the universe for every day.”  Sam bumped his shoulder and continued to dominate Tucker at foosball.  “Think of it like a makeover.  It doesn’t have to be bad.  It could be cool.”

“But I might wind up looking like Vlad,” said Danny.  

“Then steal his look,” said Tucker.  “Make it yours.”

“I don’t think anything works that way.”

“Personal fashion does,” said Tucker.  

“You won’t look like Vlad,” said Sam.  “Vlad looks old.  You don’t.  Easy.  No one will mistake you for him.  Not even if you gained about fifty pounds.”

“No, I mean, like we’re related.”  If that rumor started up again, he might just die for real this time.  

“You could wear a mask?” asked Sam.  

“I don’t think that will help with my popularity problem.”

“I’m just trying to give you ideas.  Who knows, maybe it’ll just give you some cute little horns or fangs.  Animal ears.  A tail.”

“I guess,” said Danny.  He still didn’t like the idea of it.  “As long as it doesn’t give me horns like Vlad’s.”

Sam squinted at him.  “Aren’t those horn things just his hair?”

“Ew, no, who would wear their hair like that?”

“Spectra does.”

“As far as I’m concerned, Spectra’s already a demon.”

Tucker cheered!  “I won!”

.

The crack in the Zone sky grew wider over the next few weeks.  Red flecks and fuzzies hung in the air, making good bait for blob ghosts, or rained down from far above.  Apparently, red ectoplasm was more energetic that green ectoplasm, which made a lot of Vlad’s creepy apprenticeship offers make more sense. Mostly.

Animal ghosts started being larger, with overlong sharp claws and red eyes.  Yes, even the herbivores.  It was unsettling to almost be dismembered by a rabbit or a squirrel.  

Jack and Maddie rebuilt the entire ecto-filtration system after a long thread of red found its way into the filter.  Something about it operating under different energy constraints, and how they should probably modify some of their weapons to work on red ectoplasm.  

Some of Danny’s enemies started to show up… different.  Skulker’s armor gained patterns more associated with traditional armor.  The blob ghosts started turning brown or red.  Johnny’s pupils changed to match Kitty’s cat-like ones.  Technus grew antennae-like horns.  Everything seemed bigger, hairier, and more vicious.  

It didn’t seem to be affecting Danny, but Danny knew he could trust his instincts on this sort of thing about as far as he could throw them.  

"There are always outliers," said Frostbite, who had nearly doubled in size.  He and the other yetis hadn't just grown, though.  Their fangs, claws, tails, fur, and horns had all lengthened.  Their spines had bent.  Their voices had deepened to something so gravelly it was almost inaudible.  "We are almost always somewhat bestial, regardless of the overall mood of the Realms.  Perhaps you will remain largely the same.  Perhaps your human half resists the change.”

“Or?” prompted Danny.  

“Or,” said Frostbite, shrugging his enormous shoulders, “it might come upon you all at once.”

.

By winter, the blob ghosts started to change shape.  They’d already changed color, all of them various shades of red, orange, and brown, but now they began to become defined in ways that Danny found downright disturbing… and also strangely alluring.  He couldn’t stop watching them, whether they had little grasping hands or leathery bat-like wings or even grotesque little faces, like goblins.  

“It’s really weird seeing them like that,” said Tucker, as Danny sucked a flock of them into a thermos.  “It’s like they’re turning into little imps or something.”

“They’re not cute anymore,” agreed Sam.  “But I think it’ll be kind of cool to see what they turn into.  What do you think, Danny?”

“I don’t know.  It’s… People are more afraid of them now.”

Sam and Tucker exchanged a look.  

“You know we’re not going to be afraid of you, right?” asked Sam.  

“I mean, if you turn into a balor or something all of a sudden, we’ll be surprised, but–”

“We won’t be afraid of you.  Also, don’t you think it’ll be cool?  Everything looks so much cooler with spikes and fangs and horns.  I might kill for horns.”

“Well, you’d have to die for them, at le–”

Sam threw her gloves at him.  

.

Vlad’s horns were undeniably horns.  Danny could recognize that they hadn’t been before.  That they really had been hair… and, actually, didn’t that make them antlers or something?  He hadn’t been paying attention in class the last time that had been brought up.  

“Wow,” said Danny, “I guess you got tired of using the old pomade, huh?”

Vlad growled at him, which was just a bit out of character for him so early in the fight.

“Gotta use your words, V-man.”

“You make light of this, boy,” snarled Vlad, slamming him into a wall.  “Do you know how long this will last?  Do you have any idea?”

“I didn’t think you cared about your appearance that–”

Danny was slammed into the wall again.  

“It isn’t about appearance.  Do you know how much more funding fools like the GIW will get to exterminate us now that we look like this?  Now that our behavior has changed, just a hair?  Do you?  It is no laughing matter."

He held Danny down, pinning him with hands that had more in common with talons than anything human.  Then he sighed, some of his usual attitude bleeding back into his bearing.  

"Daniel.  I apologize.  The current state of affairs is simply rather upsetting to me.  You will understand when you start to change."  He leaned closer. "I am asking you again to join me."

"As if–"

"This is not a joke, Daniel," said Vlad, as if it had ever been a joke to Danny.  "No doubt you are ignorant of this, but when the mien of the Ghost Zone takes on a demonic bent, it changes socially as well.  It becomes the battlefield of demon princes leading armies of conquest, and even those places that play at peace become Baroque and Byzantine.  Your hero act is reaching its natural end.  You will not be able to protect this place without an army on your side.  You will not even be able to protect yourself."

Vlad released Danny and lifted off, hovering menacingly in the air.  "Think about it, Daniel."

"Yeah," muttered Danny after Vlad had left.  "Sure.  I'm definitely going to think about your offer to become a child soldier.  What a loser."

Danny's ghost sense went off and he groaned.  

"Not another one!"

.

Danny nursed a black eye and other injuries in Tucker’s bedroom.  

“Do you think I’m acting any differently lately?”

“I don’t know,” said Tucker, opening up the first aid kit.  “I don’t think so.  You might be a little hungrier than usual, but that’s about it.  Could be a growth spurt thing.  Do you want to start with the big stitches or the little ones?”

“What about the black eye?”

“No, man.  That can wait.”

“But it’s the part everyone can see.”

“Dude.  You’re bleeding.”

“Only a little!”

.

Now that Danny knew he was eating more, he couldn’t help noticing.  He was eating an awful lot, and he never felt quite full.  

“Do you think it’s related?” asked Danny, nervously.  He was perched on an icy boulder near Frostbite's head.  It seemed more polite than flying the whole time.  

The Far Frozen itself had also changed with the age.  The snow was streaked with red and ashy gray from the new ectoplasm, and the structures had twisted and grown with their inhabitants.  Even the medical equipment had darkened, become cruder, although the yetis all insisted that was in appearance only, and the function was the same.  

It really accentuated how much he, unchanged, stood out.  

Frostbite rumbled deeply.  He and the other yetis were becoming… not quite quadrupedal, but their body structure was much more gorilla or bear like than it had been.  “It might be,” said Frostbite.  “It might not be.  It’s too soon to tell.”

“What about the scans you did?”

“They do seem to show that you are changing internally.  Some of your organs seem to have split in half.”

Danny felt his whole face scrunch up in consternation.  “In half?” 

Frostbite’s head dipped up and down.  “It does not seem to impact their functions, such as they are.”

“Oh, I guess that’s… good,” said Danny, trying not to show any hysteria.  In half.  

Frostbite shrugged, which was a production, considering how huge he was.  “It is neither good nor bad.  When the turning of the age comes, we must accept it for what it is.”

“Roll with the punches, huh?”

“An apt idiom.”

“And what– How long does an ‘age’ usually last?”

“Hm.  Let’s see… I believe the shortest age I’ve ever experienced lasted only a year.  The longest was…  Oh, it was centuries.”

“This could be centuries, too?”

“Certainly.  It could also end tomorrow.  There’s no point trying to predict it, I’m afraid.”

Danny nodded.  “Okay,” he said, dejectedly.  

Frostbite lifted a great paw and patted Danny’s head with a single digit.  “Don’t worry.  I’m sure it will all work out in the end."  They sat together like that for a while.  "I do not think those were your only questions."

"Yeah, but it's–"

"You don't need to fear being rude, Great One.  As I have said, you are young, and you are new."

"Okay," said Danny.  He rubbed his hands over his thighs.  "Vlad said people would build armies.  That there will be wars."

Frostbite scoffed.  "In an attempt to frighten you into aligning yourself with him.  Never fear that you will lack allies, Great One.  Why, even beyond us, Princess Dora and Queen Pandora are gathering their forces, and I understand that Lord Clockwork is fond of you."

That wasn't untrue, and yet…  "So, there will be war?"

Frostbite hummed deep in his chest, the sound vibrating up through the soles of Danny's feet.  "It… is true that general social structures change somewhat when the Realms are in this mood.  Groups become… more cohesive as the changes sort previously unaligned ghosts into, well, castes."  He paused, possibly aware of the negative connotations of the word in the human world.  "Even the landscape changes.  If this age lasts for long enough, it might evolve so that you could walk from your portal to here.  Even now, we are on a collision course with the Mountains of the Snow Maidens.  These changes cause tensions, and tensions lead into conflict.  On the other hand, personal, individual conflicts tend to lessen.  There is a balance to these things."

"Do you have a caste?" asked Danny. 

"Not as such, no," said Frostbite.  "We of the Far Frozen maintain our own hierarchy across ages.  It is one of the reasons we all change together."

"Oh," said Danny, feeling oddly left out.  "Will I have a caste?"

Frostbite gave him something that might have been a worried look.  It was hard to tell, with how much his face had changed.  

"Great One, the castes I speak of… they are not immutable law.  They have their basis in the changes the Realms impress upon our bodies and base instincts, yes, but those things do not override our choices."

And what if he wanted to choose to fit in? whispered a traitorous voice in his head.  He shook himself.  He couldn't say he didn't want to be accepted by the people around him, but chasing things like that only hurt him and the people he cared about.  And being part of a 'caste' didn't sound especially great, either.  

Still.

He formed a small ball of ice between his fingers and rolled it back and forth.  “Okay,” he said.  Then he looked up.  “You know, um, if there’s anything I can do for you…”  He was always making Frostbite and the other yetis deal with his problems.  “I’d like to help…”

Danny's stomach chose that moment to grumble.   

Frostbite chuckled, the sound like a small earthquake.  Icequake.  Something like that, anyway.  “Speaking of hunger, I believe mealtime is upon us.  Come, eat with us, and consider any debt repaid."

"Okay," said Danny, sliding off the boulder to follow Frostbite.  

The yetis were eating.  They had brought in a huge ice-worm and were stripping meat off it methodically and dumping it into a huge cauldron.  There was a chunk of ice underneath that radiated a cold even Danny could feel.  

Frostbite went to the cauldron and selected from a stack of dishes a bowl that looked comically small in his hand.  He used a ladle to scoop some of the soup into the bowl and handed it to Danny.  

The bowl was bigger than his head.  

"No spoons, I'm afraid," said Frostbite, humor in his voice.  

“That’s okay,” said Danny, raising the bowl to his lips.  The soup was frigid and creamy, rich with the ruddy ecto-blood of the ice-worm.  It was good.  Although Danny was sure it was something that Sam would view with horror.  

In the back of his head, something told him that, in the past, he wouldn’t have eaten something like this so willingly, politeness aside.  That, even, Frostbite would have hesitated before serving it to him, hospitality aside.  But he was so very hungry, and it wasn’t like Frostbite would give him anything dangerous to eat.  

He didn’t know how, but he finished the bowl.  For the first time in a while, he went home to sleep satiated.  

.

It happened suddenly, after all.  

Danny blinked down at hands that were much too large and much too sharp.  Each finger came to a needle-like white point, and his gloves…  They’d always been fairly tight to his skin, but now it felt like they were skin, except for the shiny little scales that covered the backs of his hands and went up his arms.  His whole suit felt like that, and since it was the only thing he was wearing–

Something swished past his ankles, and he twisted his body only to see that he had grown a tufted tail.  He twitched it, incredulously.  

And then a fiery ectoblast shot past his head, reminding him that he was fighting Ember, who had gone full, music-themed succubus over the last couple of months.  

But when he beat her the next thing he did was dive through the school walls into Casper High’s ‘haunted’ bathroom and stare into the mirror.  

His irises were huge, big enough that if he squinted it would be hard to see his sclera.  His pupils were slitted, like a cat’s.  

The collar of his suit had similarly merged with his skin.  There was no longer a sharp distinction between fabric and flesh.  The white color had creeped up to his jawline along with more little scales.  He would have run his fingers over them, but he was a bit wary of his newly sharp fingers.  

He bared his teeth at the mirror.  They were sharp, too, but not overly so.  

He sighed.  This wasn’t too bad.  This, he could deal with.  

.

Except, it turned out to not be that sudden.  That change wasn’t the last one.  His very next transformation into ghost form showed him that.  

“Danny, dude,” said Tucker.  “You didn’t tell me that your skin had turned white.”

“I’ve always been white,” said Danny.  

“Not paper white.”

“What?” said Danny.  His tongue felt oddly clumsy in his mouth.  Was it the fangs?  “Paper white?”

“Yeah,” said Sam.  She took his wrist and dragged him into the basement bathroom.  “Was it not before, or…?”

Danny peered at himself in the mirror for the second time today.  His face was paper white, and those little scales had crept up his cheeks, forming an almost decorative pattern near the edges of his eyes.  His ears had become long and triangular.  His teeth– Yes, they were longer and…  He swept back hair that definitely hadn’t been so long or fluffy before.  He had little horn nubs at his hairline.  

“Oh, no,” he said.  And he definitely wasn’t imagining his tongue being weird.  He stuck it out.  It was easily half an inch longer.  He turned back to human, relieved that his human form wasn’t affected.  As far as he could tell.  “It’s still going.  I thought it was done!”

Tucker patted his back, awkwardly.  “Congrats on the cool tail, at least?  And the scales are sort of cool?”

Danny groaned.  “It feels like I’m not wearing anything,” he complained.  

“Well,” said Sam, “that I can fix.  We’ll just wait a bit to make sure you aren’t going to turn into a giant, too, and then I’ll get you something appropriate.  In the meantime…”  She left, almost skipping up the stairs.

“What’s she doing?” asked Danny, somewhat fearfully.  

“Getting clothes?” hazarded Tucker.  He shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I don’t understand her on a good day.”

“Here!” exclaimed Sam, somewhat out of breath.  She threw a pile of clothes at Danny.  

He shook them out.

“Oh my gosh, is that the anime sleeveless turtleneck?” asked Tucker.  

“I got it for a reason,” said Sam, smugly.  

Tucker started laughing.  

“I hate you guys,” said Danny, transforming again.  He paused.  The white scales were definitely higher on his arms than he had been before.  

“I think your ears got longer,” said Tucker, reaching out to touch one.  Danny flicked it away, instinctively.  Tucker’s eyes sparkled.  “I think I’m jealous.”

Danny made a face at him and pulled the turtleneck on, followed by the black jeans.  

“I think I’ll need to make a hole for the tail,” he said.  

“That’s fine,” said Sam.  “I don’t wear these anymore, anyway.”

“Didn’t fit?”

“Jeans didn’t fit my style.”  Sam shrugged.  “Do you need scissors?”

“No, I think I–” he punctured a hole with one of his claws.  “Yeah.  That works.”

Sam nodded approvingly.  “See?  You’re going to be fine.”

Danny put on a smile - one that didn’t show too many teeth, and nodded back.  

.

“You don’t look bad,” said Jazz when he came home.  “Just… different.”

“I look like a monster,” countered Danny.  “I have scales.”  

“The scales are fine,” said Jazz.  “They’re a little translucent, aren’t they?”

“What does that matter?”

“I don’t know,” said Jazz.  “It’s something… something to mention?  Like I said, you don’t look bad, just less human.  And if people can’t look past your appearance to see the good you do, their opinion isn’t worth anything, anyway.”

“Except that they can still decide to put a bounty on my head, or vote for Vlad, or call the GIW if they decide they don’t like the way I look.”

The twist of Jazz’s face told Danny his point had struck home.  “We’ll think of something,” she said, unconvincingly.  “But you can be sure that, in the meantime, I don’t think you’re a monster, and neither do Sam and Tucker.”

Danny bobbed his head.  

"... That's not the only thing bothering you, is it?  Is there something else going on in the Zone?  With Mom and Dad?"

"I'm worried about Dani," he admitted.  "I know what's happening, but she doesn't have a Frostbite to explain it to her.  She doesn't have anybody."

From the expression on Jazz's face, that hadn't occurred to her, which was reasonable.  She didn't know Dani well.  

"She'll come back here if something is wrong, though, won't she?"

"I hope so," said Danny.  

.

Weekend breakfast was delayed in favor of finding out what else had changed overnight, despite Danny’s almost ravenous hunger.  The white parts of his ‘suit’ were getting bigger, leaving the black as intermittent patterns.  Without Sam’s clothes, he was almost entirely white, except for his eyes, which were as green as ever.  

For the most part, everything was just more this morning.  His hands were bigger and sharper, so were his horns, so were his teeth, so were his ears…  He was half convinced his eyes were bigger, too, but that might have just been the black lining, like natural eyeliner, he’d gotten overnight.  The tuft on his tail was fluffier, and his tail longer.  

But there were new things, too.  His feet seemed… off.  Too long, too big.  Whenever he landed, he felt the need to stand on the balls of his feet, and he got the sinking feeling that he was going to wind up with paws by the end of this.  

More mysteriously, there was a strange divot running from his lower lip, down his chin and throat…   He took off his turtleneck, and saw it when all the way down his front, all the way to just above his groin.  In placement, it almost resembled a zipper, except for the two branches that split off at his breastbone.  Those made it resemble something else.  Something that haunted his nightmares.  The divot continued on the inside of his mouth, passing between his lower front teeth and running over his whole overly-long tongue, down into his throat.  He prodded it with his fingertips, sharp as they were, which felt weird, but didn’t give him any more information.  

Between that and the fangs, Danny wondered how much of a lisp he’d have.  Well, no time like the present to test it out.  

He opened his mouth to speak.  No sound came out.  Not even a squeak.  He tried again, and again.  Everything from whispers to shouts.  

Nothing.  He couldn’t even feel the muscles working, or hurting, like he sometimes could when he’d lost his voice during a cold.  He rubbed his neck with the backs of his knuckles and tried again.  Still nothing.  

He flew up, through the roof.  Whatever had changed this time to make him unable to talk, maybe it didn’t work on his wail.  He had to know.  It was his ace in the hole, his last resort against the nastiest of his enemies.  

Once he was far enough above the city to be safe, he opened his mouth and–

And kept opening his mouth.  As he prepared to wail, the divot in his lip turned into a gap and his lower jaw split sideways, his chest blooming like a four-petaled flower full of teeth.  Some were flat.  Some were sharp.  Some looked like his ribs.  

He closed his mouth.  

He closed his mouth, and patted along its length and width to make sure it stayed that way.  

Then, he flew down and landed on the nearest building.  He felt dizzy.  He felt nauseous.  He was, despite everything, still extremely and inappropriately hungry.  

A blob ghost - no, this one was entirely imp-like, no hint of blob left in it - that had made its nest nearby chittered angrily at him.  Danny hissed at it, not in the mood.  At least that was a sound he could still make.  

The little demon-thing bit him.  

Reflexively, without even thinking about it, Danny opened his mouth and.  

Ate. 

The.  

Imp.  

.

“Ah, Great One!” said Frostbite, his voice deep enough that Danny doubted humans would be able to hear it at all.  “I see the change has taken you.  How is it?”

Danny wavered.  Then, he tilted his head back and started to cry.  

.

It took a while for Danny to communicate what was actually wrong to Frostbite and the others.  Just telling them was right off the table, as long as he was in ghost form, and he was too keyed up to just change back.  Having his fingers turned into knives had turned his handwriting into an atrocity - or maybe that was more a result of the stress.  He wasn’t sure.  

Then there was the size difference.  Some of the yetis were over two stories tall.  Danny, developing digitigrade feet or not, was tiny compared to them.  

Eventually, though, he remembered that he could turn human.  And he did. 

“It does explain your earlier scans,” rumbled Frostbite.  “I imagine that it was in preparation for your new mouth.  That would also explain your difficulty speaking.  It cut right through your voicebox.”

“Great,” said Danny.  “Can you fix it?”

“Fix it?”

“I can’t talk,” said Danny.  “There has to be something.”

“There are ways of speaking that do not rely on vocal chords, as many ghosts do not have them.  I believe we have some books on the subject.  But I cannot fix it in the way you mean.  If there was an injury, then I could make an attempt.  But there is nothing broken.”

“It feels like there is,” said Danny.  

“I know,” said Frostbite.  “I could sew the lower portions of your mouth together, if it gives you such distress, but creating a voice for you from nothing is beyond me.”

Danny hunched his shoulders.  That whole image– eugh.  “So, you don’t think it’s bad that I ate that imp?” he asked.  

“That you ate it so reflexively, possibly,” said Frostbite, “but you’re young, for all your deeds, Great One.  Many ghosts eat one another.  It is not unusual, or immoral.”  Frostbite grinned, showing off many fangs.  “It’s no different than eating ice-worms or beef.  Just make sure you eat when you feel hungry, and to try ectoplasm when consuming human food doesn't help.  You will be fine.  Those imps don’t even have cores.”

“Okay,” said Danny, quietly.  

Frostbite cleared his throat, which sounded like icebergs crashing into one another.  “Now, if you will turn back, we can give your ghost half a checkup as well, and ensure everything is proceeding in a healthy way.”

Danny made a face.  He wouldn’t call any of this healthy.  But he complied nonetheless.  

He was immediately aware that the layout of his mouth had changed even more.  He felt around with his tongue to find four fangs behind his normal set of teeth that somehow folded back into his mouth.  

Something for Frostbite to investigate, he supposed.  Danny was still too busy being hung up on eating the imp.  

But, also…

"Do you think the same things might be happening to Dani?" he asked.  

"Whom?"

"My clone," said Danny.  He'd only introduced her to Frostbite the once, he couldn't fault him for not recognizing her name.  

"Most likely, yes.  Siblings tend to be in the same caste."

"Do you…" he trailed off, hating to ask Frostbite for even more help.  "Can you keep an eye out for her?  Just in case?"

"Of course, Great One!  Now, that checkup!"

.

It turned out his new folding fangs functioned like a snake’s, and he was venomous now, if only mildly so.  Joy.  

But Frostbite fed him again before he left, so that really was a joy.  

.

After he left the Far Frozen, something else occurred to him.  Someone else who might be facing changes without knowing why.  

Valerie.  

“So, you want to drop hints to her?” asked Sam.  “While you’re human?”

“I can’t really do it as a ghost,” said Danny.  He hadn’t seen her all that often around fights for a while now.  “At least while I’m human I can say something.  I just have to play it off as coming from my parents.  I just need you guys to set me up for it when she’s in earshot.”

“Sure,” said Tucker.  “Always down to be your wingman.”

Sam scoffed.  “That’s not what’s happening.”

“It could be.”

“It’s not.”

“It’s really not,” confirmed Danny.

But although he did keep an eye on Valerie, and he was sure she overheard them talking about the red ectoplasm and the changes it brought at least once, she didn’t seem to be experiencing any changes, and she never came to talk to them. He hoped she wasn’t getting all her information from Vlad… but she probably was.  

.

Days of incremental changes passed for Danny, small alterations accumulating bit by bit, transformation by transformation.  Every time he went ghost, something had changed, whether that something was truly minor, like more black being replace with white, or something more significant, like his feet legitimately turning into paws, complete with paw pads.  And claws.  

But nothing completely new had been added for a while, and Danny took comfort in that.  He could, somehow, deal with problems getting worse better than he could handle getting entirely new problems.  

He was learning to cope with it all.  Tucker helped a lot, surprisingly.  He was good at pointing out the positives to things like ridiculously huge ears and a tail.  Even the horns, he said, could be useful in an emergency.  Or if he really wanted to headbut Skulker.  

(Danny got the sense that Tucker was just a little jealous, to be honest.)

It was… not as bad as he’d thought it would be.  His friends were great.  

Mostly.  

“Hey,” said Sam, pausing the movie and turning to face Danny.  “That reminds me, have you been Phantom at all today?”

Danny shrugged, and stole another handful of popcorn from the bucket.  He was trying not to eat it all, but…  He was hungry.  “No ghosts have shown up.  Why?”

“You should go ghost,” she said.  “So you can see if there were any changes.”

Danny squirmed.  

“Come on,” she said, poking him.  “You want to keep an eye on things, and if there’s anything new, you want to see it while it’s still small.”

“She’s right,” said Tucker.  

“Oh, fine,” said Danny, getting up, because sitting on his tail tended to be uncomfortable.  He raised his arms, transformed, and unbalanced backwards so badly he had to tap into his flight powers to stay upright.

Feathery white wings lurked at the edges of his vision.  

Oh, no, he thought, discovering he could move them.  Wings?  He spread them out to either side, as far as they could go, and raised his arms.  He found that they reached just past the last knuckle on his middle digit.    

Why wings?  He could already fly!

But then, so could the blob ghosts, and the imps had grown wings, anyway.  Which didn't stop Danny from eating them, incidentally.  Somehow, despite regular raids of his parents' purified ectoplasm supplies, he still got awfully hungry sometimes.  

He craned his neck to get a better look at the wings.  They weren’t pure white.  Many of the longer, trailing feathers had eyespots on them that looked disturbingly like his own eyes, both ice blue and ghost green.  

"Okay," said Sam, her voice squeaking a little.  "I didn't expect that.  But aren't you glad you looked before they, um.  Got bigger?"

Danny nodded, aware he was shaking a little.  He didn’t like this.  

“They’re pretty?” said Sam.  “At least?”

“Oh, hey,” said Tucker.  “Danny, can I see your hand for a sec?”

Danny held out his hand, keeping the claws pointed away from Tucker, just in case.  Tucker took his wrist and turned Danny’s hand this way and that.  “These scales are different,” he said, pointing.  

Danny looked closer.  They were.  Instead of the translucent white of the other scales, a few on the back of his hands were green, blue, or clear, putting him in mind of crystalized ectoplasm or ghost ice.  He tapped one with the tip of a claw.  Actually, they might be ghost ice.  He tried to dispel it, with no avail.  

Well.  The wings were the main problem.  

“You know,” said Tucker, whose eyes were on the wings again, “this is going to be an obstacle to your shirt-wearing goals.”

Danny plucked a pillow from the couch and threw it at him.  

“I think your hair is getting longer, too.  Want to try a haircut?”

At that, Danny returned to human form.  

“My hair’s never grown in ghost form,” he said.  

“Well, it has, now.”  Sam shrugged.  “Consider it for science.”

“If you turn me bald, I’m going to haunt you,” said Danny, suspiciously.  

“As if you don’t already.  Come on, Tucker, can you grab that old ratty sheet from the– Thanks, that’s good.  Danny go sit– Actually, with the wings, you’ll probably want to turn around–  Great.  Let me go get my scissors and comb.”

With a great show of reluctance, Danny slunk to the chair and sat on it backwards.  Tucker, with an equally great show of pomp, tied the blanket around Danny’s shoulders, working very hard to cover the wings, too.  Danny tucked them in, and they seemed to take up far less room than they should, but that was just what ghost physics were like, most of the time.  

Sam returned with a pair of scissors and a comb.  “Just checking, but you don’t have lice, do you?”

Danny sent her a vaguely rude gesture.  She snickered.  

“Just checking,” she repeated in a sing-song voice.  Then, she got to work.  

About halfway through, she wrapped her off hand around one of his horns, casually, to adjust the angle of his head.  It felt surprisingly nice.  Satisfying, almost.  Or maybe secure was a better word.

“Oops,” she said, letting go. “Didn’t mean to manhandle you like that.”

Danny transformed back.  “No,” he said.  “That actually– It felt good.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” said Danny, rubbing his forehead about where his horns were while he was in ghost form.  “It did.”

“Okay, then,” said Sam.  “If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t,” insisted Danny.  

“I still have a haircut to finish, by the way,” said Sam, using the scissors to describe a circle in the air.  “You want to…?”

“Oh, right,” said Danny, going ghost again.  Long strands of hair fell around his jaw and tickled the back of his neck.  

“Uh,” said Sam.  “Nevermind.  Looks like the hair is part of the package.”

“Yep,” agreed Tucker.  “There’s a lot more of it now.”

Danny buried his face in his hands.  His stomach grumbled.  

.

Long after everyone else was asleep, Danny stood in front of the bathroom mirror.  It felt like he did that a lot, these days, and yet every time he had a harder time recognizing himself.  The whiteness, the wings, the eyes, the horns, the ears, the teeth…  He wasn’t really worried about being recognized as Phantom in human form anymore because he was just so different.  

He leaned closer to the mirror, making note of how fine blue and green scales had gathered near his eyes to accentuate the ‘natural makeup’ look that had started with the black ones.  Raised silver lines curled around the gemlike scales and up his horns, like filigree.  There were a few lines like that on his arms and hands as well, and he suspected he’d get more of them, all over.  

If one discounted the mouth– if he kept his mouth closed– he almost looked pretty, in a distinctly monstrous way.  He was certainly far more delicate in appearance than any other ghost he’d encountered since the turning of the age, including the imps.  In fact, although he hadn’t brought it up to his friends, despite standing on his toes all the time while on the ground in ghost form, he wasn’t any taller than he had been before, and that height, according to Frostbite’s measurements, had been taken out of his torso.  

It was weird to think about.  

But he was stalling, now.  Between everything else and this…  He was afraid he would just keep not looking.  That he would get distracted by new things, new problems, and just let this one lie.  He couldn’t do that.  He had to face this.  It was part of his body, like it or not.  

Slowly, bit by bit, he opened his mouth, all the way down.  

Apart from the fangs, which were getting long enough that he suspected he’d have trouble speaking even if he did have a voice to speak with, the top of his mouth looked normal.  Ish.  Alright, it really didn’t, but he could lie to himself about it.  His lower jaw, just as fanged, was harder to look at, with his tongue hanging off of it and twitching whenever he thought about it too hard.  The tongue led back to, presumably, what remained of his esophagus, a smooth, deep, lining that spasmed every so often.  

To either side of that, in his throat, were two little holes that flexed as he breathed.  Wind tickled the flesh around them.  They must be his windpipe, split in two to go to either lung. 

A little further down, there were teeth again, rows and rows of them on flesh that had been peeled back from his chest like flower petals.  The movement of his lungs could be seen clearly beneath them.  

The teeth were sharpest on the outside edges, structured to pierce or tear.  The longest were rib-like, curving, and hollow tipped, each of them weeping something clear.  Deeper, the teeth became blunter, more suited for grinding.  

In the very deepest part of his mouth was an octopus-like mass of tongues, each undulating gently.  One stretched itself out to lick at one of his teeth, and Danny shuddered.  He could feel it.  

A line of drool ran down his cheek.  Ancients, he was hungry.  

He closed his mouth, and, almost on autopilot, drifted down to the kitchen.  The fridge light bathed him, and he floated there for a long moment, staring.  Then, his lips parted.  

.

He woke up to his parents ranting about ghosts stealing all the food in the house.  

Danny rolled over and groaned.  He had a problem.  

.

Danny flew through the ghost zone, falling motes of red and ashy ectoplasm staining his wings.  It made his feathers feel weird and sticky, and he wanted to stop and clean them off immediately, but he had to go to the Far Frozen. 

When Frostbite saw Danny, his whole face lit up, his yellow eyes practically sparkling.  “Oh!” he said in a voice that was definitely too deep for humans to hear.  “I know what caste you are in, now!  I had wondered–  But, now, seeing your wings!  Wonderful!”  

Danny blinked up at him, hoping he would explain.  He didn’t feel like going back and forth between human and ghost right now.  

“Yes,” said Frostbite.  “The lack of wings confused me.  But, now, I see.  You are a Mouth.”

For obvious reasons, Danny crossed his arms and glared at Frostbite.  

Frostbite didn’t seem to notice.  “Mouths are messengers - or they were the last time the Realms turned red.  They would speak with others’ voices, carrying messages across the Realms.”

Danny tilted his head.  He couldn’t speak at all.  What was Frostbite talking about?

“Ah, yes.  I can see how that might be hard to believe.  If I can show you?”

Danny nodded, cautiously, and Frostbite knelt down.  He brought his head, bigger than Danny’s whole body, to Danny’s level, and, with exceeding care and gentleness, touched his horns to Danny’s.  

Sam holding onto his horns had felt good.  So did this.  This contact, though, had a vibrational quality that Sam’s lacked.  It was like energy was being pushed into them and flowing down, down, through his skull, down his spine, into his stomach.  He leaned into it, eyes fluttering closed.  If he’d had any voice at all, he’d probably be purring.  

Frostbite withdrew, but the sensation of energy in his stomach remained.  

“There,” said Frostbite.  “I’ve filled you with a message.  Now, try to speak.”

It wasn’t like Danny hadn’t tried to speak to no avail before, but he opened his mouth and Frostbite’s voice came out, his feathers vibrating with it.  

“Hello, Great One, I see you’ve received my message.  May I invite you to come eat with us again?”

He snapped his mouth closed as soon as the second sentence was over, acutely aware that he hadn’t been able to do that until the whole message was over, no matter how startled he’d been.

An odd, tingly sense of mild euphoria came over him.  Distantly, he acknowledged that what had just happened had been disturbing.  He also acknowledged that this feeling must be related to those ‘caste instincts’ Frostbite had talked to him about before.  

With his regular tongue, he licked his lips.  

“Well?” prompted Frostbite, an eye ridge raised.  “Will you?”

Danny realized, belatedly, that Frostbite was waiting for an answer.  From him.  He nodded.  With the message gone, he felt oddly hollow inside.  

Once again furnished with a bowl of soup larger than his head, Danny sat down next to Frostbite.  

“Now,” said Frostbite.  “There are many things I do not know about Mouths.  It was not a terribly common grouping.  However, I do believe I saw a book on the subject in Princess Dora’s library some time before the turn.  You could go to her and ask to borrow it.”

Danny nodded even as he greedily slurped the soup.  He was trying to have manners, but not opening his mouth all the way was the best he could do right now.  

“If you do, I would ask you to carry a message to her, and return with her answer as well.  I have learned a few troubling things about her nearest neighbors that she should know, and I have a proposal for her.”

Danny nodded again.  Of course he would do that.  Frostbite hardly needed to ask.  

“Excellent!” said Frostbite.  “It is always useful to have a messenger who is already friends with an ally!”

Danny preened– Well.  Not literally.  He didn’t really know how to take care of his wings, yet, and he was a bit too busy with the soup, anyway.  

.

The Time Locked lands had changed a lot.  Once many scattered islands, they had coalesced into a new whole many miles across in each direction.  As he watched, pebbles and minor, asteroid-like islands added themselves to the outskirts.  Dora’s castle towered sharp and black in the center, bristling with ballistas.  Ghosts in segmented, thorny plate armor patrolled the streets.  In the distance, Danny could see Poindexter’s Casper High morphing into something out of nightmares.  

In a wild fit of prudence, Danny decided not to fly directly to the tower, but instead landed at the city gates.  

“A Mouth?” asked one of the guards, slitted eyes wide.  “Do you have a message for Princess Dorathea?”

Danny nodded.  The guard called for more guards, and he was escorted to the castle by six ghosts in various stages of transformation, all armed.  They brought him through the receiving hall and several other public corridors before they were finally directed to Dora.  

“Sir Phantom,” said Dora, her voice soft with wonder.  She raised her hand to brush his cheek.  “Your new appearance suits you.”

Danny could say the same about Dora as she reclined regally in her tall-backed chair, maps of the Zone laid on the table beside her.  She looked fierce, her dragon horns and wings on full display, her nails long and sharp, her skin even more scaled than his was.  

“I understand you have a message for me?”

Danny nodded, suddenly feeling shy about the whole situation, and opened his mouth.  Frostbite’s words poured from him, but he didn’t understand them.  They were in a rumbly, lilting ghost language that Danny didn’t know.  

When the message finished playing out, Danny sat down on the ground, spent and… Distracted.  He was going to call this distracted.  He felt all noodly and worn, but also satisfied and happy, like he’d just helped someone with something big.  

“The Observants and the Medicis.  Of course they would get along.”

Dora gestured at the guards, directing them to bring Danny closer, resting his head on her knee and spreading his wings out to their full extent on either side.  

They were getting bigger, darn it.  

Dora put a pointed nail under his chin and tilted his head up, so he was looking her in the eye.  “I know you aren’t likely to give me your first loyalty,” she said.  “Assuming, of course, that you give it to any one person.  But I would like you to remember this… fondly.”  She lowered his head back to her knee and began to stroke his hair.  “Go fetch the falconers.  Tell them to bring their grooming supplies.”

At least one of the guards left.  Danny couldn’t tell if more than that went just from the sound.  

“Frostbite said you were looking for a book on Mouths,” she said.  “I’m afraid I no longer have it.  I had borrowed it from Ghost Writer and returned it some time ago.  I know you pledged to return to Frostbite with a message from me.  I will give you one momentarily.  I know you do not have a very positive relationship with Ghost Writer.  If you would, kindly, return here after bringing my message to Frostbite, I will give you a message to Ghost Writer as a sort of… peace offering.  There are certain volumes I wish to borrow from him, regardless, and it would be very useful not to need another messenger.”

Danny, vaguely aware a response was needed, nodded. 

“Thank you, Sir Phantom.”  There were footsteps behind Danny.  “Ah, the falconers, very good.  I noticed you were picking at your wings earlier.  I believe they can help you with that.”

That was the only warning Danny got before hands descended on his wings and he ascended into a state of bliss.  Getting the gunk off his wings felt so good a few tears escaped from his eyes.  

“There, there,” said Dora.  “I will give you my message, and you can rest before you go back, yes?”

Danny nodded again, and Dora bent her head to touch her horns to his.  

The sensation of the message settling inside him and that of the falconers tending his wings worked together to overwhelm him completely, but it only lasted a few minutes.  When Dora straightened, she looked to her guards.  “Please take him to one of the messenger rooms,” she said.  “You know the ones.”

The guard picked Danny up, first like a kitten, then like a baby, which was distantly embarrassing.  He couldn’t hold on to that feeling for long, though.  Not when he was so tired.  He fell asleep before they got where they were going.  

.

Danny woke up starving and smelling food.  He hardly noticed the nest-like bed he was in, the hypnotic patterns painted on the walls of the room, or even that he’d been sleeping in ghost form as he followed his nose out.  Before he knew it, he was sitting at a great banquet table, piled high with food and eating, struggling to limit himself to his regular mouth as Dora watched indulgently from the other side of the table.  

He wondered if he should turn human and start a conversation, but he didn’t know what that would do to the message he currently carried inside himself.  He stayed in ghost form.  

.

“As long as you are visiting the Ghost Writer, I would like you to take a message to him for us as well– Yes, before you ask, Mouths can hold more than one message,” said Frostbite, forestalling Danny from turning human to ask.  “Well-trained ones can even choose which of multiple messages to play back, which is useful, but I don’t think you’re there, quite yet.  But before you visit him, I need to clarify a few things with Princess Dora.”

Danny nodded and continued to gnaw on the odd, fist-sized nuts Frostbite had given him as a ‘snack.’  He had to go back there, anyway.  

.

“I don’t know the answer to that,” said Dora.  “Not on my own.  You will need to go to Queen Pandora.  Do you know the way to her kingdom?”

Danny did.  

“Good, good,” said Dora.  “I will send you to her with a message explaining everything.  After you eat, of course.”

.

On the way to Pandora’s kingdom, Danny passed by a lot of violence, from small bands of ghosts fighting one another to groups that might very well be classified as armies.  In a few cases, where he knew one side or another, and the groups were small, he intervened, but for the most part he avoided everyone.  He wasn’t a stranger to fights, or even wars, considering what had happened with Pariah Dark, but the scale was new to him, and unsettling. 

Not to mention how everyone else seemed to be getting bigger and tougher while he only felt more and more delicate.  

He glanced at his feathers.  They and his wings seemed to be the only part of him getting bigger other than his hair.  Beneath the red ectoplasm stains, he could see traces of that silver filigree winding down into them as well.  It was all over his body, now, raised lines wrapping around the scattered gem-like scales.  It made him look decorated, or decorative, like a weird kind of statue.  Except for the whole horror mouth, horns, tail, claws, ears combination.  That sort of broke the illusion.  

It still set him apart from the other ghosts, and he didn’t like that, even if he didn’t want to be like that.  It had to be some weird human pack instinct…  

He reached the spot Pandora’s kingdom usually stood, and looked around, confused.  There was nothing there except for blasted black and red pseudo-volcanic rock.  Nothing… except for a hole in the ground, a tunnel leading down.

No.  It couldn’t be.  But the other option was that Pandora’s kingdom had been destroyed, and Danny couldn’t consider that, not yet.  

He flew down.  The tunnel was just large enough for Danny to enter while standing upright, but the sense of uncertainty about the size gave Danny the impression that would be the case no matter who approached it.  The edge was carved with crude Greek letters.  TARTARUS, they said.  

Okay, then.  Danny entered.  

Inside was dark and claustrophobic.  Within ten paces of the entrance, the tunnel curved sharply, blocking off the light from the entrance.  Danny, not wanting to navigate by his glow alone, lit an ectoblast in his hand.  Then it thinned and twisted again, forcing Danny to tuck his wings in and shimmy sideways.  Thankfully, it opened back up, but then the sides of the tunnel became thorned and spiky.  Danny strongly considered going human and just phasing through everything, but he once again forced himself to remember that doing that might make him lose the message.  He didn’t really want to do this twice.  

The tunnel split.

It was a labyrinth.  Of course it was.  Danny had preferred the hedges.  

Danny decided to go right.  He was immediately attacked.  

He didn’t get a good look at his assailant, beyond a long muzzle and flashing teeth.  A few good ectoblasts and claw swipes drove it off.  Danny absently licked the blood from his fingers and continued on.  

It wasn’t the last time Danny was attacked, and by the time he emerged into a vast cavern packed with Greek-style buildings carved from the cave walls and stalactites and stalagmites, he was grimy, bruised, and tired.  At once, he was accosted by a group of spear-carrying warriors.  They dragged him inside a building surrounded by stone carvings of fruit trees, then to a pool inside it.  Pandora was lounging near it, her feet dangling in the water.  

Danny opened his mouth and let the message - in Dora’s voice - spill out.  Then his legs folded underneath him and he laid down.  

“I will, of course, return you with an answer,” said Pandora, He turned his head just enough to look up at her.  She was about the same size as she had been before, but her skin color had deepened to a rich purple-red.  Four long bull-like horns extended from her head.  “But I think you might appreciate a bath, first?”  She gestured to the pool, and he saw, now, that it was only one part of what appeared to be a larger bathing complex.  One that was full of bathers.

Danny blushed, but nodded.  After the labyrinth, he wanted to be clean.  

A group of bath attendants chivvied him into one of the pools and, somehow, stole the jeans he’d borrowed from Sam.  In ghost form… demon form, whatever, he didn’t really have anything down there, not since he’d changed, but still.  Naked.  

He sank deeper in the water, spreading his wings out over the surface and letting the grime wash away.  The warmth of the water was both soothing and uncomfortable, making his ice core feel loose and melty.  The temperature eased higher.  His muscles were completely relaxed, but his core was uneasy.  

“Don’t fall asleep,” said a bath attendant, prodding him.  “Queen Pandora wants us to show you how to take care of your own wings.”  

Danny didn’t want to move, but with all the prodding, and the knowledge that dozing off probably wouldn’t be good for him, he made an attempt.  But his attempt was clumsy, half asleep, and it didn’t please the attendants.  

“Ah!  I give up!” said the attendant.  “I should have known a Mouth like you would be too useless and lazy even to take care of themselves!”  They finished rinsing him off perfunctorily before dragging him from the pool and throwing a chiton over his shoulder.  He was ushered quickly through the bathhouse, stumbling under the weight of his waterlogged wings.  They shoved him through the doors and he collapsed, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.  

“Oh, dear,” said Pandora, gesturing him closer to where she laid on a couch sized for her huge frame.  “What’s the matter?”

Danny, his wings still wet with water, crawled closer to Pandora until she picked him up and set him down on the couch, next to her hip.  He curled in on himself, burying his face in his knees even as he kept his long ears oriented towards Pandora.  He couldn’t say anything.  

“Are you hurt?”

Danny shook his head.  His injuries from the maze were mild enough that he didn’t want to bother anyone about them.  

“Are you sick?”

No, Danny didn’t think so, although he certainly didn’t feel right.  

“Was someone unpleasant to you?”

Danny nodded.  He wasn’t even sure why this was bothering him so much.  Normally, it wouldn’t.  They weren’t really mean to him, just…  He wiped tears out of his eyes again.  

“There are many people in this world who will not like you, simply for who and what you are.  That’s only more reason to cherish those who do like you, isn’t it?”

Yes, that was true, that was right.  

“You will cherish them, won’t you?  Your friends and allies?”

Danny nodded.  Pandora smiled and handed him a crystalline orange.  Danny’s brain must still be fried, because he began to gnaw on it.  To his surprise, his teeth cracked the surface before too long had passed, and he crunched the shards into gem dust before swallowing and licking his lips.  Pandora patted him on the head, smiling.  

“You will cherish them.  Now, go to sleep.”

He was out like a light.  

.

In the morning, Danny was too embarrassed to even look at Pandora, although he kept his ears pricked and still nodded or shook his head when she asked him questions, and generally did not resist when she adjusted his position or patted his head.  

“... and this will keep you from getting attacked in the labyrinth,” she said, fastening a bracelet around his wrist.  “Although, you will still need to find your own way through the maze.”

Danny perked up and examined it.  It was simple bronze impressed with the Greek key, a golden thread wrapped around it, and it fit perfectly around his wrist.  Danny looked up at Pandora, hoping to convey his gratitude.  Going through the labyrinth like that, although far from the worst thing he had ever done, had been awful.

“It’s the least I can do, when you are so likely to have to come back.  Frostbite’s proposal will require quite a bit of back and forth.  Pandora patted his head again.  “And you still have the message?”

Danny nodded.  He wasn’t sure how he could lose it.  It was inside him.  

“Then it’s time for you to be off.”

.

Danny emerged from the labyrinth and shook out his wings.  He was happy to be above ground where he could fly again and–

Wait.  

He twisted and reached back.  Below his first two wings were two smaller wings.  When– When had that happened?

He shook himself.  He was on his way back to Frostbite anyway.  He would get a checkup to make sure everything was okay then.  

.

As Pandora predicted, many more messages had to be delivered before she, Frostbite, and Dora worked out… whatever they were talking about.  Danny still didn’t know, because the messages were all in languages he couldn’t speak.  He thought it would be better if they just met up with each other and talked face-to-face, but he could acknowledge that he wasn’t exactly up on current Zone politics.  More pertinently, he was always carrying messages he didn’t want to lose, and he still hadn’t been able to take a moment to determine whether or not changing form got rid of them. 

That was at least partially Danny’s fault, though.  Unless he was completely spent, he always wanted to deliver his messages right away.  Delivering messages was tiring, especially since they just seemed to get longer and longer.  And there were so many distractions.  Like food.  Holding the messages made him… somewhat less hungry, but whenever he was given anything to eat, he just couldn’t say no.  Not that he could say anything, anyway.

Then there were things like the baths in Pandora’s kingdom, which he always needed badly after a trip through the labyrinth but which also always left him feeling melted and emotionally inept, or the painted walls in Dora’s ‘messenger rooms’ which were so entrancing that he was sure he’d lost hours staring at them, the medical checkups Frostbite insisted Danny go through regularly and which got weirder as both Danny and the yetis changed more and more, and the fights between the Realms that got more and more vicious as time went on.  

More than once, Danny had been chased by soldiers with nets.  

But Danny was getting used to it.  Just like he was getting used to how his body was changing slowly even without turning back and forth from human form to ghost form, or how tiny he was compared to literally everyone else.  Even Sidney Poindexter towered over him when they passed each other in Dora’s castle.  Apparently, Poindexter was part of something called the ‘Knight’ caste.  

Although, one thing he wasn’t getting used to was not being able to ask questions.  The Zone was changing so much around him and everything seemed infinitely interesting, so new, so strange, and he couldn’t ask questions.  Not even the most basic ones about what he was, although he knew Frostbite was trying to get him the information he craved by telling him about that book.  Otherwise, the best Danny could do was watch and listen.  He was getting good at that, though, and according to Frostbite’s checkups, Danny’s eyes and ears were getting bigger.  Even so, there were limits to observation when so often he was barely capable of thinking.  

It helped that Frostbite, Pandora, and Dora were all being so… so soft with him, so gentle.  They were really putting a lot of work into taking care of him when the only thing he could do was deliver messages and then fall over.  It made him feel sort of guilty.

But just as his little mail route started to feel routine, the three of them resolved the issue and sent him off to Ghost Writer stuffed full of messages.  

Ghost Writer’s library had always been imposing.  It had also been sort of comical.  The front of the building had been sculpted to resemble a shelf of books for goodness’ sake.  

It was no longer comical.  Now it was gothic, full of wrought iron spikes, roses that looked a little too like blood blossoms for comfort wending up the sides.  

Nothing for it.  Danny went and knocked on the oversized door.  He knocked again.  He started knocking and kept knocking until Ghost Writer himself yanked the door open with a sharp “What?”  Then he froze, looking down at Danny.  “Phantom?”

Spitefully, Danny opened his mouth and let the messages play. 

At the beginning, Ghost Writer’s posture was hostile and sharp, but it slumped into something defeated about halfway through before resolving into resignation.  “I don’t have the book.”

Danny frowned at him.  

“Clockwork bought it from me,” said Ghost Writer in a highly aggrieved tone.  “Just before the aesthetic changed.  He gave me–  Oh!  It doesn’t matter!  I can see that he got the better part of the deal, the old cheater.  Well.  Come in.”  He pushed back, away from the doorframe.  “I’ll give you what the Princess, Queen Pandora, and Chief Frostbite want.”

Danny flew after Ghost Writer, a little wary of entering the library.  He was also a little confused.  The messages, altogether, had been shorter than usual, and he didn’t feel nearly so tired as he usually did after delivery.  Maybe there was some correlation between length and fatigue…?

Inside, the library was just as gothic as it was outside.  The bookshelves were ebony.  All the books were bound in shades of blood or rose red.  

“Don’t touch anything.”  He lugged a metal box from under his desk, then two more just like it.  “You don’t know what these are, do you?”

Danny shook his head.  

“Typical,” muttered Ghost Writer.  “These are messenger boxes, for Mouths.”  He smiled, some malice in the expression.  “They’re made of special materials, too tough for you to drive your little teeth through.  I fill them up with their books and you take them back.  In your mouth.”

Danny blinked as Ghost Writer started to fill the boxes with books and twisted his head to try and read the titles.  Wouldn’t it be better to carry them in his hands, even if they were bulky…?

“Keeps thieves from taking the packages or something.”

Oh, that was okay, then.  If this was how it was done, he’d at least try.  

Ghost Writer finished filling the boxes, then latched them closed and stepped away.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said when Danny continued to gaze at him.  “I’m not putting my hands anywhere near your mouth.  You can do that yourself.”

Danny approached the boxes dubiously.  All of them were at least two feet long.  He wasn't sure they'd fit.  But he opened his mouth and, well.  Grabbing something with his mouth was pretty reflexive, he was sorry to say.  

It felt… Well, it felt like holding something in his mouth.  But also like something was just shy of triggering his gag reflex.  He kept trying to reflexively chew on the boxes, but there was no give to them, which was unfair. 

… Did he really just think that?  Was he so hungry these days that he really wanted to eat the library books his friends were checking out?

He hoped it was just a reflex.  Just… Yeah.  

But the strangest part of this was that although the boxes definitely were large enough to bulge through his skin, large enough they shouldn't fit all together, they weren’t visible at all on the outside of his body.  Another point for weird ghost physics.  

“You have them.  Good.  Now get out.”

Danny looked up at Ghost Writer, startled.  

“You heard me,” he said.  “Get out of here.”

.

“It’s alright, Great One.  You can do it.”

Danny was… not quite sweating.  He didn’t sweat in ghost form.  Demon form.  Whatever he should call it, now that he had animal ears and a tail, long, curling horns, and a disturbing fixation on eating things.  He was, however, becoming progressively more stressed and angry with himself as he continued to try and fail to drop the message box labeled for Frostbite.  

Every time he got close to finally doing it, either his tongues or his teeth reflexively clenched around the box, forcing him to start all over again.  

“Perhaps you could try to drop all the boxes,” said another yeti who had been talking to Frostbite before Danny found him.  

Danny looked at him askance.  No, he couldn’t.  Those boxes were for Dora and Pandora.  

“Perhaps we should take a break,” suggested Frostbite.  “Give you some time to rest.”

Danny shook his head.  He couldn’t give up just because something was hard.  

“You know you won’t be able to safely eat anything else until you let go of those.”

That was certainly an additional and very powerful motivation.  

Slowly, stooped over and his hands holding back the petals of his mouth, Danny relaxed his tongues enough that the Box slipped free and hit the floor with a clang.  He leaned back, letting most of his mouth close.  His upper mouth remained open, his split tongue lolling out as he panted.  

"Very good," said Frostbite, stroking Danny's head with the very tip of his smallest claw.  From a distance, it looked sharp, but from Danny's perspective it was blunt and rounded, the diameter just barely smaller than that of his head.  "Now, all you have to do is bring Dora and Pandora theirs."  He continued to pet Danny, but shifted so that he was sort of looming over him.  Not that Frostbite could do anything but loom over Danny.  Snowflakes drifted down from his mane and settled unmelting on Danny's skin.  Danny wondered if the yetis knew they each had their own weather system.  "Once you have done that, come back here.  We have messages for Clockwork, too.”

.

Dora and Pandora had messages for Clockwork, too, long ones, so it was a very bloated-feeling Danny who landed in front of the shiny brass doors of Clockwork’s lair, Long Now.  He paused before knocking, examining himself in their mirrored surface.  It had been a while since he had really looked at himself.  

His ears and horns completed for real estate on his head.  His hair hung halfway down his neck, almost to his shoulders.  His wings were larger than he’d thought, and the secondary pair was almost as long as the first.  His hands and feet were hugely oversized, giving him a kitten-like appearance.  His eyes were big enough that his default expression could be read as innocent curiosity… which was fair enough.  That did seem to be the main thing he tried to emote these days.  

Experimentally, he started making other expressions.  To his distaste, almost all of them parted his upper lips enough to see the fangs in his regular, upper mouth.  He put his neutral, curious expression back on.  Much better.  His mouth should only be open when he was eating, or delivering a message.  

Except… except, maybe, when he was in human form.  Then, it should be… acceptable to open his mouth to talk.  Yes.  That was the right word.  Acceptable.  

Danny raised his hand to knock on the doors, but they swung inwards.  At the clear invitation, Danny flew inside.  

Some things had remained the same about Long Now.  It was still full of ticking.  There were still gears set in the walls.  Weights, chains, and bells still hung from the ceilings.  But it had changed.  Gone were the statues, gone was the stone masonry, gone was the verdigris and dust.  All the walls were brass, wood, glass, or pale porcelain.  Everything was polished to an aggressive, gleaming, brightness that contrasted sharply with the outside world and somehow felt more threatening than all of the spears of Dora’s Knights.  

But, perhaps, the most unsettling change was the floor.  The last time Danny had been here, it had been normal, unremarkable.  Now it consisted entirely of enormous gears, each of them turning at a different speed, and on top of the gears and threaded into them were layers and layers of shifting, twitching chains.  He stayed a healthy distance above them.  

“Hello, Daniel.  I have been expecting you.”

Danny whirled at the sound of the voice.  He hadn’t seen Clockwork.  He still didn’t see him.  All he saw was a giant clock draped in purple… oh…

Like everyone else, Clockwork had changed.  Danny supposed his new appearance only surprised Danny because Danny hadn’t been around to see it happen.  

Clockwork was taller, obviously.  About the same size Frostbite had been when the Zone first began to shift.  But that was far from the most notable change.  Clockwork’s face had widened and flattened, becoming pale and circular, his mouth and nose disappearing.  Brass decorations crept around its edges.  His eyes had multiplied and spread, so that there were twelve of them, evenly spaced around the rim of face and glowing bright.  From behind the bronze rim spiraled two long, bronze horns, both polished to the same shine as all the other metal in this place.  

Danny could still see the clock that had always been in Clockwork’s chest, but the numbers on it had been replaced with something spikier, and the rhythm of it had changed - not enough for Danny to identify the change, but enough for him to know it was there, enough to know that if he listened to it for long enough, it was all other clocks that would seem off.  He could also see Clockwork’s ungloved hands, segmented and porcelain like a doll’s, and the brass mechanics underneath them.  

“I understand you have messages for me,” said Clockwork.  

Oh, right.  He opened his mouth and let the messages play.  When he was finished, he sank down to the ground, careless of the gears and chains.  That really had been a lot.  Maybe Clockwork would have a place for him to rest before sending him back out?

“I do,” said Clockwork, picking Danny up, “but I think you should eat first.  You are hungry.”

Danny blinked blearily at Clockwork, unsure if that had been a question or a statement.  The chains ran into and out of Clockwork’s robes, and they moved more when he moved.  Danny gazed at them, trying to determine how that worked.  

“In many ages,” said Clockwork, “I am integrated with Long Now.  Bound to it, if you would.  Although, I am bound to it regardless, sometimes the forces keeping me here have more… slack to them.”

He sat Danny down at one end of a long brass and wood table that spanned the diameter of a slowly turning gear.  It and the chairs around it were bolted to the gear.  From above, chains lowered… objects to the table.  They were shiny geometric shapes.  

“Eat,” said Clockwork, inclining his head.  “They are quite edible for demons like us.”

Okay, then.  Danny wasn’t the kind of person to reject food.  Or, at least, he wasn’t any longer.  Still, he was tired enough that he ate slowly, watching as the room rotated slowly around them.  Everything was so bright and shiny it was beginning to hurt his eyes, but closing them would be rude, he was sure, and he didn’t want to be rude to someone who was feeding him.  Eventually, his eyes landed on Clockwork’s face as the least shiny thing, and he watched as Clockwork’s eyes blinked open and closed, mimicking the movement of hour, minute, and second hands.  

Clockwork began to speak, voice low and regular, rising and falling in time with the ticking of the clocks.  

Next thing he knew, he was done eating.  He shook himself, blinking hard.  He felt like–  He–  He opened his eyes.  Something had happened there.  He didn’t know what.  Already, his certainty that something had happened was softening.  Nothing looked out of place.  With how drained he had felt, he probably was just zoning out, daydreaming.

“All done?” asked Clockwork.  

Danny nodded.  He could eat more… but, then, he could almost always eat more.  He had other things to worry about, like whether or not Clockwork would want Danny to take a message back to one of the other three.  Or all of them.  But Danny couldn’t repeat messages multiple times, yet.  He would, he hoped, be able to do that eventually.

“The messages you brought me mentioned, among other things, a book regarding Mouths,” said Clockwork, rising and moving around to Danny’s side of the table.  “I do have the book, but I do not believe it would do you much good.”

Danny frowned at him.  What did he mean?

“See for yourself,” said Clockwork, taking a red and black bound book out from inside his robes.  He set it on the table in front of Danny.  

The symbols on the cover were unfamiliar to him.  Careful not to let his claws damage the book, he picked it up and let it fall open to a random page.  There were black and white illustrations on it of a series of people who looked remarkably like he currently did.  Wings, horns, horribly extended mouths…  Not all quite in the same arrangement as Danny’s, no.  One unfortunate had eight wings.  Another’s mouth was extended down from the corners, not from the center, like Danny’s.  None of them seemed to have skin or scales quite like his, either.  Even so, they were all definitely the same kind of thing.  

All of the words on the page were in a language he didn’t know.  He couldn’t even recognize the script.  

“It’s formal court Demonic,” said Clockwork.  

Oh, that’s what–  Wait.  How–?

“How am I doing that?” asked Clockwork out loud, echoing Danny’s thought.  “So long as you are not carrying a message, if you become frustrated enough, you return to human form to ask your question.  I do believe that looking ahead is more efficient.  Also, your ears and tail tend to give you away.  They are very expressive.”  He ran a porcelain finger along the velvety back of one of Danny’s ears, making all of Danny’s hair stand on end even as he immediately began to plot to get Clockwork to do it again.  

But back on topic…  Was there an English translation of the book, somewhere?

“There is not,” said Clockwork.  “This is the only extant copy.”

Maybe he could get Frostbite - No, his eyes were big enough now that even this book, massive as it was, would be too small for him to read.  Dora or Pandora, then?  But they were so busy…  Clockwork?  He looked up hopefully.

“As it turns out, there is a simple technique for teaching Mouths other languages.”  He pulled another book from within his robes.  “This is a textbook designed to teach the Demonic language.  A Mouth may learn a language by digesting several of these, one after another.”

Digest as in…?

“Yes, I do mean eat.  I will have one prepared for you every time you return.”

Return?  Not that Danny didn’t want to, of course.  He reached for the book, which Clockwork relinquished easily.

“My correspondence with Dora, Pandora, and Frostbite will take some time, and likely several exchanges.”

Oh.  Of course.  Danny had known that.  He examined the textbook a little longer.  Well.  If Clockwork said it was okay… and he was still hungry.  He shoved the book in his mouth before Clockwork could change his mind.  

Clockwork chuckled, tick tick tick, and stroked the back of Danny’s ear again.  Danny practically melted.  So good.  

“I shall record my messages and show you the place I have set aside for you to sleep.”

Danny nodded, his eyes still on Clockwork’s hands.  Up close, his finger-segments had a similar filigree pattern to the one on Danny’s skin.  Even though in everything else other than color, his and Clockwork’s hands were completely different, the sight still made something settle inside him.  He didn’t think about it for very long, though, because Clockwork was touching his horns to Danny’s, and receiving a message was always a bit… consuming.  

Clockwork’s message wasn’t too long, though.  “There we go,” said Clockwork.  “Bedtime.”  He slid away from the table.  

Danny tried to follow him but he found his legs were bound to the legs of the chair.  He twisted to look down.  Fine brass chains had wound around his legs up to his knees.  

“My apologies,” said Clockwork.  The chains begrudgingly unwrapped themselves.  “I do not have as much control over them as I would like.  Perhaps in the future, I will improve.”

Danny knew what that felt like, so he shrugged.  Being stuck for a moment wasn’t a problem.  

This got Danny another ear stroke, this time on the other side.  He was going to get spoiled.  

Then, Clockwork flew upwards, towards all the bells and weights dangling from the ceiling.  Danny followed him, avoiding a few taut chains that stretched across the empty space to feed into gears on either side of the tower.  There, nestled amidst the bells, was a birdcage.  

The cage was big enough for Clockwork to fit in it, and the bars were close enough together that Danny would not be able to worm his way out.  Inside were amenities such as a bed, a bedside table, a bird swing the same scale as the cage, and a vanity with brushes and wing-picks.  Towards the top of the cage were rolled lengths of fabric which were clearly intended to roll down to cover the cage.  

Danny balked.

“I know it is not, perhaps, ideal,” said Clockwork, “but it is the only way to keep the chains out.”

Well.  Danny didn’t want to wake up wrapped in chains, and that bed did look comfortable, birdcage or not.  It had lots of pillows.  Still…

He watched as Clockwork demonstrated that the cage door did not lock and then held the door open for him.  His eyes trailed up to the top of the cage and the curtains.  

“I imagine it will be hard for you to sleep without them,” said Clockwork.

That was a good point.  It was very bright in here.  And, despite his brief rest with the meal, the day's activities were catching up to him and it was becoming harder and harder to stay airborne.  

"Daniel, I am not usually so direct, but if you fall out of the air, not only will I tuck you into that bed myself, I will also find a lock to put on this door, so you don't get it into your head to leave before you are rested."

Chastised, Danny slunk past Clockwork.  But, feeling just a little contrary, he didn’t go to the bed.  Instead he sat at the vanity and gave Clockwork a challenging look.  

“That is what it is there for,” said Clockwork.  “Rest well, Daniel.”  He closed the cage door and left.  

Well.  Okay then.  He picked up one of the brushes.  He did need to get some of the red ectoplasm and ash gunk out of his wings.  It felt gross, as always, and he had picked up some things between the falconers and Pandora’s bath attendants.  

But he couldn’t keep it up for long, and soon he was dozing off between brushstrokes and, oh!  The blinds were on automatic, run by one of Clockwork’s chains.  He’d wondered.  

He put the brush down and crawled into the bed.  The backs of the blinds, he saw as they reached the bottom of the cage, were painted in the same pattern as the messenger room in Dora’s castle.  Maybe they were a gift from her to Clockwork?

.

Long Now became a new, comfortable stop on Danny’s route.  Clockwork, like Frostbite, tried to explain things in ways that Danny could understand, but unlike with Frostbite, Danny felt like he was really having conversations with Clockwork, thanks to his ability to look ahead and see what Danny wanted to ask.  

Flying started to feel different as the pieces of land in the Zone started to clump together more and more.  Volcanoes were getting common, for one thing. Probably all the ash in the air was from more distant ones.  Seeing flying ghosts was getting rarer.  These days, the only people Danny saw flying were ones with wings.  Everyone else marched on the ground.  

“As we shift from being ghosts to being demons,” said Clockwork, offering Danny another textbook to eat, “our abilities shift as well.  You will probably notice many people losing their auras soon, although you are likely to keep yours.”

But Danny had thought the shift was only aesthetic.  And why would he be an exception?

“Are our abilities not part of our aesthetic?” asked Clockwork.  “And you are not exactly an exception, per-se.  Your caste is designed to be flashy, visible.  You notice, do you not, how easily you stand out against most natural landscapes.”  He lifted the edge of Danny’s wing, showing off its white feathers.  

So, did that mean he couldn’t turn invisible anymore?  Or go through walls?  Not that he could test that second one while he was in the Zone.  

“Well,” said Clockwork, “when was the last time you tried?”

Putting it that way…  Danny went invisible.  He could still do it, but it was definitely harder.  He let himself fade back into visibility.  

“There are, as always, outliers,” said Clockwork, amused.  “It would be useful if you could keep that ability.”

Useful.  Clockwork and the others were using that word as a compliment a lot, lately.  He was useful, his messages were useful…  It was becoming sort of attention-grabbing for him.  A positive trigger.  On the other hand, being called useless…  

“If those fools of Pandora’s are giving you a hard time, I can mention it in my next message.”

Danny shook his head.  He didn’t want to get anyone in trouble.  He got the impression they were just jealous.  

“If that is your preference.  It is time for you to sleep, now.”

Obediently, Danny flew himself to his birdcage and shut the door behind him.  

.

Danny listened to a group of yetis argue.  An argument between yetis sounded like an apocalypse, and shook the snow from nearby mountains.  Danny was avoiding the avalanches by hiding in Frostbite’s mane.  

His latest message from Clockwork had set this argument off.  Something about nearby demon princes and the Observants.  Or, the Observants counting as a demon prince.  Or about the groups that held the land between the Time Locked Lands and the Far Frozen becoming more aggressive.  Or about them being conquered.  Danny got the impression that the topic had shifted a few times, and he lacked a great deal of context.

He sort of wanted to ask Clockwork to give him books about whatever language everyone was using for messages, too, so he could understand better.  Although, on the other hand, he got the feeling that a lot of what he carried was military secrets, so…  He might just be better off not knowing.  

The argument eventually wound down, and Frostbite plucked him from his mane.  “I am sorry you had to hear that, Great One.”

Danny shrugged as best he could in Frostbite’s grip.  

“Are you ready to eat?” asked Frostbite.  

Danny nodded vigorously.  He hadn’t been as hungry lately, with all the messages he was carrying in his stomach, but there was no way he’d ever turn down food.  

.

One morning… or, well.  It wasn’t really morning in the Zone.  But when he woke up, he stretched and looked at himself in the birdcage’s vanity mirror.  Ugh.  He’d thought his lower back had been weirdly itchy last night.  Turns out he’d been growing another set of wings.  Fun.  At least nothing else had changed in a while.  Chitons worked fine for him, but, wow, was Sam going to have trouble designing anything modern that would work with all this.  

He went through his morning routine and flew down to where Clockwork waited by the long table.  He was holding a book.  The book, Danny now realized.  

“I think you should be ready, now,” said Clockwork, pleasantly.  He put the book on the table in front of Danny.

He could read it!

The book was titled The Training and Use of Mouths, a Complete Primer for the Rising Demon Prince.  Danny opened the cover, and turned pages carefully with a bent knuckle until he reached a table of contents.  

Chapter 1: Qualities of Mouths

Chapter 2: The Training of Mouths

Section 1: Initial Training

Section 2: Messengers

Section 3: Songbirds

Section 4: Training for Other Specialties

Chapter 3: The Uses of Mouths

Section 1: Traditional Uses

Section 2: Taking Advantage of Loyalty

Section 3: Mouths as Weapons

Section 4: Mouths as Status Symbols

Chapter 4: The Care of Mouths

Section 1: Physical Care

Section 2: Social Care

Chapter 5: Incorporating Mouths into a Typical Court

Appendix A: Materials

Appendix B: Other Modifications

That was… hm.  This seemed oriented more towards people who were in positions of authority over Mouths rather than Mouths themselves, but he was sure it would still be useful to him.  At least, if he knew the traditional uses of Mouths, he might be able to do them better, if he was asked.  

Danny flipped pages back and forth, reading a passage here and a passage there, not quite ready to tackle the whole thing in order.  

Mouths are voracious, even ravenous, omnivores, especially when they are not carrying messages.  However, they rarely gain weight, unless they are recovering from malnourishment.  It is unclear where the things they eat go.  Their hunger is a great benefit to those wishing to impress one to their service, or those wishing to train one, as they are highly food-motivated.  

Among other castes, Mouths have a reputation for being vain and lazy.  In fact, nothing could be further from the truth.  This stereotype arises from their atypical docility, lack of territoriality and ambition, and sensitivity regarding their feathered wings.  Mouths will rarely start fights.  However, this should not lead to the assumption that they are weak.  Recall that Prince Morningstar used legions of Mouths in his armies, and they were terribly effective.  

For those concerned about their Mouth’s food needs, it is important to note both that they are true omnivores and that their food intake drops drastically when they are regularly carrying messages.  

Even more than the Knight caste, Mouths are loyal.  They rarely alter their allegiance after their first moon-cycle of existence, and changes of allegiance after a sun-cycle are unheard of except in cases of extreme coercive force.  Even the waters of the Lethe are not effective on their own.  

On occasion, Princes especially concerned with the loyalty and discretion of their Mouth - or perhaps wary of the resourcefulness of their enemies - would fit the Mouth with a carcanet, or collar.  This carcanet would prevent the Mouth from opening and repeating the message unless it was first unlocked and removed.  Generally, only the Mouth’s master and those they regularly corresponded with would have keys.  In some cases, where the Prince only used the Mouth as a medium to receive messages with, only the Prince themselves would possess a key.

It is important to note that only ghosts of a certain strength can properly impart a message to a Mouth.  A Mouth that is too much stronger than the one giving the message will not be able to receive it.  

There are two subsets of Mouths.  Messengers and songbirds.  Messengers are in a more natural state, and are the type most discussed in this book.  Songbirds are created by repeatedly filling Mouths to their limit with messages consisting of musical compositions and preventing them from discharging those messages, typically either through excellent discipline training or a carcanet, until the messages are digested.  Through this process, the songbird will eventually develop a ‘voice’ consisting of the musical compositions used in this process.  However, this should not be mistaken for a true voice, as the songbird has little control over what they are ‘saying.’

A less common use for Mouths is as a disposal for cursed or inconvenient magical artifacts.  Even very powerful artifacts can be digested by a Mouth in a matter of cycles.  This does not come without side effects, however, and the wise Prince would do well to expect the Mouth to be unusable for the duration.  

Danny, disquieted, returned to the table of contents, and found the section titled Initial Training.  

Training of Mouths should begin as soon as their wings and feathers grow in.  Assuming the Mouth is not already familiar with and positively inclined towards the prospective trainer, their cooperation may be easily secured with a promise of food.  Then, a short message, no more than two sentences, should be recorded on the Mouth.  The prince may accomplish this by touching their horns to the Mouth's and focusing on "pushing" the desired message into them.  This should feel similar to sharing energy with Knights or imparting instructions to Hands, but less taxing.  The message should then be delivered by instructing the Mouth to attempt to speak. 

Some difficulty can occur if the Mouth was mute prior to becoming a Mouth.  If this is the case, the author humbly suggests that the prince reading this guide consider training the Mouth as a songbird (see section 3 of this chapter for more details).  

The Realms in Their wisdom create Mouths in such a way that they find both the receipt and delivery of messages pleasant, and many Mouths also have Obsessions that align with these ingrained instincts, which increases the effect.  However, if the message delivered is as the prince intended, the Mouth ought to be fed regardless of whether or not food was promised to it.  This not only associates reward with the acts of receiving and delivering messages, but also with the prince themselves.  

If the message was not correctly recorded, the prince may try again.  If the recording continues to fail, the Mouth may be defective (see chapter 4, Care, for more details).  

While the Mouth is eating, and therefore receptive, they should then be asked to deliver a message elsewhere.  The receiver should either be one of the prince’s own retainers or a close ally, to prevent the Mouth from being stolen by enemies.  This message should be as long as it is possible for the Mouth to hold.  The prince will be able to sense when this limit is reached by a feeling of heightened resistance when recording the message.  

Delivering a message of this length will exhaust the Mouth, allowing the receiver to care for the Mouth by giving it food, grooming, and a place to rest (see chapter 4, Care, for more details, and Appendix A: Materials for grooming tools).  During this time, the receiver can then ask the Mouth to carry a message in return.  

This pattern of exhausting the Mouth, caring for it and rewarding it, and making a further request should be continued with small alterations each time.  Alterations may include things like changing locations or kind of reward, slowly changing requests to expectations and orders, and package training.  

One new to the training of Mouths might be surprised to find package training to be part of initial training, however this author finds that–

"They are using you to cement their alliance," said Clockwork, leaning over Danny's shoulder.  "They are all quite fond of you, personally, and your utility is high.  I believe the alliance will be successful."  He leaned back and started carding his fingers through Danny's hair.  “Why does it matter that they like you?  You have read that Mouths are loyal.  For those he owes that loyalty to to break with one another…  It would be very damaging to you, Daniel, even now, and they do not want to hurt you.  This alliance is very important, but given the pressures of these forms…  The aggressions engendered by red ectoplasm…”

Danny could understand it.  An alliance between the Far Frozen, the Time Locked Lands, and Pandora’s Tartarus would keep the peoples of those lands far safer than they would have been on their own.  Danny was flattered, honored, that he had been able to help, that they trusted him so much, that they liked him so much that they considered hurting him to be a strong disincentive to betrayal, but he would have liked to have been asked before being made a lynchpin.

“I would like to join them.  In this aesthetic, the chains that bind me to Long Now are both stronger and… more literal.  As you might imagine, having the Observants as my sole contact with the outside world is distasteful to me."  Clockwork began to twist Danny’s hair into a braid.  "I would ask you to help me."

See?  Clockwork got it.  Danny nodded.  Of course he would help.  If he was already delivering messages for Frostbite, Dora, and Pandora, it wasn't like it was an imposition.  And he'd always asked these guys if he could help them, and the answer had always been no for so long.  

Clockwork chuckled, the sound clicking and mechanical.  "You do not need to decide just yet.  I am perfectly happy to give you all the time you need to consider your options."

That just prompted Danny to nod more vigorously.  He wanted to help.  He wanted to be useful.  

Which, maybe, he shouldn’t, considering what he had just read.  The instructions in that book laid out how to manipulate someone like him, and his friends, his allies, had followed the steps perfectly.  They’d done it for a good reason, sure, but…  It should have shaken him to the core, and it did.  But he didn’t exactly dislike what he had been doing.  He could have stopped at any time.  He’d enjoyed it.  Carrying the messages had been oddly fulfilling, he’d enjoyed the positive attention, he was well fed, well rested, clean, useful, and he hadn’t gotten into a fight since– since–

A flush of panic spread from Danny’s heart to his extremities.  How long had he spent running messages?  How long had he been away from home?

Clockwork wrapped his hands around Danny’s horns, grounding him.  He hadn’t known holding his horns could do that, but of course Clockwork would.  He’d read the book.  

“It has only been a season,” said Clockwork, calmly, despite the not at all soothing content of his words.  “When you leave here, immediately return to the human world and only transform to your human form when you are near a hospital.”  He lowered his hands to Danny’s wings and began to clean them methodically.  “You have not been human for some time, and there are consequences to that.  Tell them that you were kidnapped and drugged, and do not remember where you were.  Your body will corroborate your story, as it will be somewhat malnourished, although not dangerously so.  I would like to borrow seven of your eye-feathers.”

One of Danny’s ears rotated back towards Clockwork, questioning.  

“It is to make something for you, and us.  There is a section about it in that book.”  Clockwork leaned over Danny’s shoulder and turned to a page in the appendices.  It was labeled Sympathetic Summoning Rings and included an illustration of a Mouth wearing two shiny metal rings around the bases of their horns.  “Two for your horns, one for me, one for Princess Dorathea, one for Queen Pandora, one for Chief Frostbite, and one for your sister.  So you know when you are needed by one of us, and when you are needed at home.”

Yes.  Jazz would like something like that.  Especially considering how badly he had lost track of time.  He nodded his agreement and Clockwork plucked the feathers so quickly he barely felt it.  

“I also think that you may be able to do more than act as a simple messenger.  After all, you are not only a demon,” he continued, answering Danny’s unspoken question.  “Do you not think that a truly loyal ambassador might be useful?  One who might negotiate, not merely repeat messages?  That even in this troubled age of demons, you might help broker peace?”

Oh.  Oh.  No, he hadn’t considered that, but now he wanted it, and he wanted it with an intensity that left him rather… bemused.  He hadn’t been this passionate about things like this before, had he?

“That is because protecting your town took up most of your time and attention.  You have been… reoriented and redirected.  Before, you acted against your ghostly nature in many ways, in your obedience to the authority figures of your hometown and your desire to conform.  Now, you act in accordance with your demonic nature with that same obedience.  But even if you could act as a scout, would that not be helpful?  Would that not be useful?”

No longer at all upset, Danny nodded.  Yes, he would be useful.  He still felt… bad… that he’d been away from home so long, though, and he couldn’t help but wonder if someone had gotten hurt.  

“Amity Park is safe,” said Clockwork.  “For the most part, the princes are turning their attention towards enemies closer to home.  It is unusual for a demon prince to conquer enough of the Realms to feel secure in attempting to invade the Earth.  Pariah was, as you have correctly concluded, the last one to do so, and he was betrayed quite handily by his subordinates for his pride.  Besides, your rival, Vladimir, is territorial enough to defend it in your absence.”

That was a relief.  

Clockwork finished Danny’s wings and patted his shoulders.  “One more thing you should know, before you leave,” he said.  “The Observants have started to work to occlude my vision of nearby events.  I have been timing your departures to help you avoid enemies, but until whatever tool they are using is stolen or destroyed…”  He shrugged, indicating his inability to see.  

Danny wondered if this was why Clockwork had shown Danny the book today, rather than waiting for another time.  

“It did affect my decision,” admitted Clockwork.  “You can stay here until you are ready to go, of course.  Perhaps someone will destroy their tools for us, and I will be able to send you on with a clear conscience.”

That would be nice.  But Sam and Tucker had to be worried out of their minds, not to mention Jazz.  Danny wasn’t sure what a ‘season’ meant to Clockwork, but thinking back… Yeah.  It could have been months.  

What had he been thinking?  How did he lose track of time so badly?  How could anyone?  Why didn’t it occur to him that he should go home?  It’s not like he’d forgotten about his friends and family.  

“During these shifts, our new instincts can grip us quite strongly.  It isn’t a moral failing to fall into them.”

Alright.  He was just going to chalk it up to ghost… to demon weirdness and let it go.  

But he also had to go.  Now that he’d noticed, he couldn’t delay.  

.

Danny flew high over the battlefields, occasionally snatching imps out of the air with his tongues if they passed too close to him.  It had been a while since he traveled without a message or at least a package, and he felt both light and empty.  

The landscape had changed so much…  There wasn’t a hint of green anywhere, except on his wings and in the spilled blood-ectoplasm of a few unfortunate demons. 

As Danny got further from Long Now, he had to dodge more random attacks.  No one was really flying after him, but ectoblasts fired from the ground were still annoying, and once he passed a group with siege engines, and that had been more annoying.  It kept him on high alert.  

About a quarter of the way back to the portal, he started to feel like he was being watched.  The feeling kept increasing.  He turned himself invisible, and changed directions.  This might lose a casual follower, but if he was getting followed by something really nasty that could see through his ruse, he’d rather face it in the Time Locked Lands with Dora’s armies at his back.  Or, preferably, at his front.  

Not having to fight all that much for ‘a season’ really had spoiled him.  

But he’d miscalculated.  The density of the rain of ectoblasts that came down at him made invisibility a moot point.  

Danny called up an ice shield and twisted as he fell, trying to stay airborne despite the burns on his wings.  He built another shield beneath his first, and let that one fly outwards as a hundred tiny knives of ice.  He was rewarded with grunts of pain as Observants fell from the sky around him, apparently too distracted by their injuries to stay flying.  

Observants.  Of course.  And of course they managed to keep some ghost powers, too, even as they mutated into horrible gargoyle-like creatures with eyeballs instead of faces and stony wings.  

They were above him in the air, for the most part.  That was dangerous.  If he wanted to escape them, he needed a superior altitude.

He dove, trying to gain distance, and then banked sharply up, dodging ectoblasts as best he was able.  Even so, he could hear his shield cracking with impacts.  The density of fire they could achieve when they all were shooting at once was just too high.  

Another group cut off his escape, forcing him to swerve, and then, with a well-placed hit, drop further into a kind of gully that deepened further into a canyon cut by a slow-moving river of sludge.  

… Actually, from the stink, this might be the River of Revulsion.  Ick.  

Even beyond the River of Revulsion being disgusting, this was very bad.  He had to punch a hole out, now.  

He swung to the side of the canyon, clung to rock with the talon-like claws on his feet, and called up an enormous ice field that spiked up from the ground.  The Observants who had been lining that lip of the canyon scattered, and Danny flew up and out, winding his way between his ice spikes.  

Come to think of it, this is what he and Frostbite had been practicing, when the age first began to change.  

He shot off, as fast as he could go, staying close to the ground.  When among the Observants, he’d wanted to get higher, but now the goal was to make himself as small a target as possible.  Ectoblasts impacted the ground just behind him, and to either side, but he felt sure he was outpacing the Observants.  

Then, the net.  

The thing hit him hard, and, in turn, he hit the ground hard, rolling for who knows how long before he came to a stop and the thing immediately shocked him.  Repeatedly.  This wasn’t his first encounter with shock-happy jerks, though, and being shocked just gave him more of a reason to struggle, not less.  

But the net was weighted, and the more he fought, the tighter it got.  Even ice didn’t seem to have any effect on the net.  

And then another net was dropped over him.  And he was kicked so he rolled over and the second net tangled around him, too.  

“I told you, you wouldn’t be able to catch him with your regular techniques,” said a familiar voice.  Danny glared up at the faceplate of Skulker’s new armor.  “Nothing personal, Phantom, but if I want to stay an independent bounty hunter, I have to deliver bounties.”

“Which you still haven’t,” wheezed an Observant.  “Your contract was for his safe delivery to the Panopticon.”

Skulker sneered.  “Fine.”  He jabbed something sharp through the nets and into Danny’s arm.  

.

Danny woke to the sensation of someone putting something around his neck.  He lunged forward, claws out, or tried to.  His hands and feet were chained securely to the surface of a table, where several Observants worked to file down his claws, in itself a horrible feeling.  

He tried to open his mouth and attack with tooth and tongue, but he could only part his lips to the place where the underside of his jaw met his neck.  That is, the upper edge of the collar, the carcanet, he had just been fitted with.  

“Don’t look so surprised,” said what looked like a higher-ranked Observant, standing on a platform above Danny.  “This is standard treatment for songbirds, which is all you’re good for.”

Danny did his best to ignore that chilling statement, and licked the back of his teeth.  They hadn’t muzzled him.  Their mistake.  He spat his venom directly at the ranking Observant.  It hit his cloak and ice began to spread over it rapidly.  He continued to spit, sowing chaos throughout the room until someone thought to sedate him again.  

.

He woke in a cage suspended in the center of a huge atrium.  Observants scurried around, in the air, on the walls, and on the floor.  Occasionally, a few of them would stop and… look at Danny, their gaze almost admiring, like they were looking at a work of art.  

Danny didn’t like that.  

Worse, several of his feathers, ones he thought were important, had been either pulled or cut out.  He didn’t know how that would affect his ability to fly, but he didn’t imagine it would be good.  

His lower legs and arms had been encased, from claw-tip to heel and claw-tip to elbow, in… in some sort of decorative covering.  The material was heavy and didn’t bend, and was inscribed with the same motifs that decorated the walls and the Observants robes.  The casings also trailed chains that led into tubes on the sides of the cage.  Experimentally, he froze the material, but, paradoxically, it heated up, symbols glowing, and he stopped before he could give himself nasty burns.

And there was a muzzle, now.  One that hooked onto his horns and put tension on them that felt, weirdly, both good and bad.  Like there was supposed to be tension on his horns, just not like this.  

Other than that, the cage was bare.  Nothing on the floor, no comforts, no bed except for the bars.  Not even any clothing for Danny.  Someone had stolen his chiton.  Jerks.  

A group of Observants broke off from a larger gathering and flew to Danny’s cage.  With a great deal of pomp, they opened the door.  

Whatever mechanism operated the door must have been connected to the chains attached to his arms and legs, because those chains went taut, pulling him into a starfish position suspended in the middle of the cage.  An Observant wearing fine, jeweled robes strode in, stony claws clicking over the bars of the cage.  

“Ah,” it said, “our new little songbird.”

Danny glared.  This seemed to amuse the Observant.  

“You understand that although a prince might try to rescue a messenger, they won’t raise a hand to help a songbird.  In only a few more cycles, you’ll only be useful as decoration.”  The Observant circled him.  “No one is coming to save you.  You’re never leaving this cage again.”  Its eyes crinkled in pleasure.  “Yes, that frightens you, doesn’t it?  And we haven’t even gotten started.”

Wow.  Not even started, huh.  Danny sure considered them kidnapping him to be starting.  

“Oh, even if we’ll never have your loyalty, we can train you up, yes, yes, and punish the little clock, that wind-up toy for daring to go against us.”  It wrinkled its eye further, and patted Danny’s cheek with a three-fingered hand.  “You doubt, now, don’t you?  But you’re already hungry, aren’t you?  Eventually, we will at least have your…”  It lowered its voice to something deep and ominous, “cooperation.  Hm?  And if not, well…  You’ll sing very prettily, regardless, and remind all our… vassals of what we can do.”  

Danny doubted that.  

“Well.  Well.  We need to start on our first session, don’t we?  I will begin with my favorite composers.”  It touched its horns to Danny’s.  

Before this, Danny hadn’t appreciated that his friends hadn’t filled him to his limit.  No.  They must have stopped when they felt him approaching it.  This Observant had no such scruples.  He filled Danny, then kept pushing until it hurt.  Only then did it step away.  

“I will return,” it said, cheerfully.  

The chains dropped Danny to the bottom of the cage as the Observant left, closing the door behind it.  Danny trembled, his jaw twitching to open and release the immense pressure of the message inside him.  He felt he could almost hear the music, something howling and operatic, inside his head.  

He had to get out of here.  Fast.  But if he tried to escape haphazardly, under these circumstances, he would fail.  

The Observants had, seemingly, overlooked an enormous hole in their security.  Danny could turn human.  He could phase cleanly through most Zone materials… unless that, too, had changed with the age.  

But, his human form was, in Clockwork’s words, malnourished.  Enough that he’d thought Danny should go to a hospital, first thing.  And this cage was at least a couple of stories up.  A fall could be… bad.  Especially since he was pretty sure his wings had been clipped and he therefore couldn’t rely on a transformation to keep him from hitting the ground.

Then there were all the Observants.  He’d gotten lucky, that time with Walker.  Most of the time, ghosts were able to adjust more quickly to humans in their midst, and these weren’t ghosts.  These were demons.  

But even so…

He pulled himself into a sitting position, grimacing at his inability to move his feet or wrists.  A place like this had to operate on some sort of schedule.  If he could figure out what the quiet times were, he would have a better chance.  And maybe he could somehow use the chains to climb down…  Or he could climb up.  This cage had to be attached to something up there.  

That was a good idea.  He’d climb up and then… go from there.  He had no idea what the rest of this place looked like, so planning beyond get out and general strategies wasn’t going to be very useful.  

He squinted at the Observants below him.  Maybe he could steal a robe or a cloak from one of them and sneak around?  It worked in enough movies…  He probably shouldn’t bet his life and freedom on something from a movie working, though.  

He continued to sort through options as he tried to find a pattern to the Observants’ movements.  For a while, that served to keep his mind off… things.  

Not forever, though.  

He hadn’t read a lot about songbirds in the book, but he’d read enough to know that he really would be useless if the Observants succeeded in making him one, and he had no idea how long that process would take.  He couldn’t, at least, serve as a messenger anymore, and the implication that he wouldn’t have any choice about ‘singing’ was clear.  He didn’t want to be some kind of demonic iPod.  

If that happened, he wouldn’t blame anyone for abandoning him.  

.

The next 'session' left Danny clawing at his neck and face in a futile attempt to remove the carcanet and muzzle.  But with the coverings, he couldn't even scratch his face, let alone metal.  

The internal pressure was enormous.  

He managed to stop himself after only a few minutes of writhing.  He wanted to pant, but had to settle for breathing heavily through his nose.  

Maybe he should just take his chances at escaping now, rather than wait for a good time.  He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take, especially if they weren't going to feed him.  

His stomach turned uneasily against the sensation of being both too full and too empty.  

But, no.  Planning.  Planning was what was going to get him out.  

But what if he just got weaker and weaker until he couldn't escape?

He flexed his knees and elbows, and the joints of his wings, trying to distract himself.  If two more 'sessions' passed without him being able to find a good time, he would just take his chances.  

.

A pair of Observants in plain robes flew up to his cage.  One of them held two bowls, one full of cut fruit, the other full of seeds.  The other unlocked the door, pulling Danny into the same splayed, vulnerable position as before.  

Danny's stomach rumbled loudly, and he felt drool drip off his chin.  He was starving, and he didn't doubt the Observants knew it.

"If we take off the muzzle, will you cooperate and eat like a good little songbird?"

Danny made his eyes as wide and innocent as possible and nodded, projecting serenity.  As soon as the muzzle came off, he yanked on his chains and twisted, biting the Observant.  It yoweled as its flesh froze beneath Danny's fangs, and Danny spit it out, disgusted.  Even as hungry as he was, he didn't want to eat that.  

That's what demons with cores taste like, supplied the itchy, instinctive part of his brain as he did his best to raise more chaos.

The muzzle went back on.  

The door, however, stayed open.  They left the food, too.  He wondered if this was another carefully-constructed torture, waving both food and freedom in his face like this when he was even more immobilized.  

He tried to comfort himself by thinking it didn't really matter.  The food was probably drugged, anyway, and he could still get out of this by turning human.  

But he was so hungry.  He was tempted to turn human just so he could eat.  He still had enough willpower to refrain from that, even though his body periodically twitched towards the food.  

His question about whether or not leaving the door open and the food present was intentional was answered moments later.  Another plain Observant flew towards the cage and started to adjust something near the door.  

The tension on the chains holding Danny in place increased.  

Crap.  

A few minutes later, just as Danny had gotten used to the new stress on his limbs, the tension was increased again, to the accompanying giggle of the Observant. 

It kept on like that for… it must have been hours.  At irregular intervals, the Observant would either tighten or loosen the chains.  Never enough to give Danny any real relief, no, but enough to make him wonder if they were finally closing the door.  

All thoughts about planning an escape were put on hold in favor of anticipating whether or not the next change would be an increase in tension or a release.  Between that and the increasingly delicious smell of the fruit and seed, he had no room in his head for anything else.  

"I've come to see our little songbird."

Danny jerked his head up.  A small group of Observants floated at the door.  He hadn't noticed them coming.  The two best dressed were a large Observant with jewels set in its stony skin and a smaller one with a clipboard.

The Observant who'd been operating the chains giggled.  "I don't think you'll like the look of it, my lord."

"I'll be the judge of that."  

The Observant got up close to Danny, poking and prodding, pushing back his eyelids and looking in his ears.

"You were right," said the jeweled Observant.  "I don't like the way it's looking at us.  Schedule an appointment with the enucleator."  

The Observant with the clipboard scoffed.  "The stupid thing probably doesn't even know what that is."

"No, it doesn't.  Maybe we'll tell it, eventually.  In the meantime, have him fitted with a blindfold."

Danny… did not panic.  It was a near thing, but he didn't.  Even when a large portion of his mind was screaming he had to go now now now because there was no way he'd be able to spot a pattern in the Observants' movements while blindfolded, he didn't panic.   

Panicking would lose him the few advantages he did have here.  

So he breathed slowly, deliberately, as one of the Observants held lengths of cloth up to his eyes for the jeweled Observant's approval and another ducked behind him to clean his wings. He resisted, of course, moving as much as he could, pulling his wings away.  He didn't think he'd be able to stop himself from at least doing that.  

"If you don't stop moving, little songbird, we will have your ears stopped up with wax as well."

Danny went as still as stone.  

"Good songbird," said the Observant.  

The Observant eventually chose an embroidered length of cloth with an eye motif on it.  Danny might have thought it pretty if it wasn't associated with the Observants.  This was then sewn, in front of Danny, onto a stiff, shaped leather body that was clearly intended to attach to the muzzle Danny was wearing.  Which indicated to Danny that the whole thing was a farce, and they were always going to blindfold him. 

Before they put the blindfold on, they painted his eyes over with something stinging and sticky.  It started to harden as soon as the blindfold was pressed in place.  He was not going to be able to get it to slip. 

Then, of course, the Observant 'filled' him.

Forget going through this again.  As soon as they left and shut the door, he was going to start his escape, good timing or not.  

Or, at least he’d start as soon as his head stopped ringing with hallucinatory music.  

The door did not close.  The tension on his limbs was not released.  In fact, a moment after he thought that, the tension increased again.  That one stupid Observant was still here.  

At least that one stupid Observant was still there.

Fine.  Fine.  Danny would just have to… to listen.  To focus on what he could hear to find out if they were really gone.  

Danny’s hearing seemed intent on making up for Danny’s inability to see.  Danny was becoming less and less sure that the music was hallucinatory.  It was distant and faint, maddeningly so, but it was also very regular.  On top of that were the rising and ebbing sounds of the Observants going about their business.  Also, his ears felt like they were growing, and he hated the fact that they might be.  

But his hearing wasn’t the only sense Danny still had access to.  His bare skin felt every breeze.  He could feel the coverings on his arms and feet cutting into his skin.  He could feel the glue over his eyes drying, itching.  He could feel the carcanet as his neck strove to open.  He felt the muzzle pressing in on his jaw.  

He could smell.  

The food was still in his cage, and it smelled delicious.  

The idea of food grew larger and larger in Danny’s mind, not that it had exactly been small before.  Drool dripped down his front.  

And then it smelled close.  The chains loosened just a little, and he unconsciously leaned forward.  They listened a little more.  He was getting closer.  Bit by bit, until he was eeling along the barred floor, his joints stressed too much to work right.  

He strained towards what he knew was food…  And then he was yanked back up, pulled away.  

The laughter was uproarious.  He flinched away, but it was coming from all sides and he couldn’t move.  

Then it started again.  He knew, he knew he was going to be yanked backwards again, but he couldn’t help being hungry, and, maybe, just maybe, there was a chance.  

There wasn’t.  He was jerked back again.  

A third time, he was slowly released.  

He reached the food.  Finally.  

He still had the muzzle on.  He pushed it against the fruits in the bowl, well, fuitlessly.  

“Aw,” said a voice much closer than Danny had expected.  “Is the little songbird hungry?”

Danny nodded, tearfully.  

“But the little songbird misbehaved.  Has the little songbird learned its lesson?”

Danny nodded.

“Next time,” said the Observant, sing-song and taunting, “if the little songbird is naughty, it won’t eat again until it can sing for its food.”

The muzzle was stripped from his face and he immediately dove at the bowls.  He didn’t care, in the moment, if they were drugged or not.  He didn’t care that the fruits were filled with unsatisfying paper.  All he cared about was being a little less hungry.  

Or, rather, those things did matter to him.  It was just that eating superseded other concerns.  

“Little songbird’s favorite food is music,” said the Observant, giggling.  “Bye bye, little songbird.  Until next time.”

The door clanged shut.  Oh.  Oh, thank goodness.  They’d left him alone.  

Something drowsy came over him.  Of course the food had been drugged.  Of course.  But if he fell asleep now…  His imagination conjured a horrible cycle where he woke up starving, was ‘filled,’ and then fed and drugged again and again and again.  Probably with some added torture to amuse the Observants, who had definitely picked up a sadistic streak.  

But he could feel himself slipping, slipping, slipping–

He called on his ice powers, and the coverings burned hot.  Hot enough to wake him.  

Okay.  Alright.  He could do this.  He could stay awake, and listen, and keep his ice powers going, and escape.  

Yes.  

He listened.  The sounds the Observants made increased and decreased like a tide.  There was a pattern.  There was.  Even beyond the music playing in his head, there was.  There had to be.  

Please.  

There was a dip.  A deeper dip.  

Good enough.  He turned human.  

The music he’d been holding inside him burst outward with destructive force.  Half the cage bars exploded outward, and what was left of the structure spun dizzily.  Danny clung to the chains that had held him in place earlier, his human hands small and shaking, his sneakers unfamiliar as they scrabbled against the bars.  

The atrium, he saw, had not been emptier.  In fact, there had been several jeweled observants close to his cage, no doubt coming to torment him.  

They were now embedded in the nearest walls.  

Well.  

Well!

It was no ghostly wail, but Danny was glad he had something.  Let them just try to turn him into a songbird again!

Well.  Actually, no.  They’d probably come up with some way to keep him from transforming.  

He had to get out of here.  

It would be a lot easier if his human form didn’t feel just as horrible and shaky as his ghost form.  Malnutrition sucked and he never wanted to do it again.  

Something landed on his shoulder.  Reflexively, Danny turned and bit.  Observants tasted just as gross in human form as they did in demon form, but this time, he didn’t let go.  He wrapped his arms around the hapless Observant as it flew to and fro, trying to dislodge him.  Danny tried to use his weight to steer it lower.  

It did get lower.  It also ran headfirst into a pillar.  They dropped.

But Danny, at least, didn’t drop far.  He grabbed on to a tasseled rope and slid several meters down, friction wearing burns into his hands.  More cautiously, but still quickly, before the Observants gathered themselves enough to really look around themselves, he let himself slide down the rest of the way.  He hit the Observant he’d caught a ride on in the head with both feet just as it was getting up.  

Ooh!  Free robe!  

Maneuvering the Observant so he could strip the robe off it was difficult, but, wow, adrenaline was great, wasn’t it?  He flipped the hood up over his head and disappeared.  Literally.

Going invisible in human form was always a bit harder than it was in ghost form, but now it was harder still.  He didn’t know if it was because he was slowly losing the ability, or if it was just because of how… how… He didn’t know how to describe his physical and mental state at the moment.  Bad, he supposed.  

He ducked down a corridor that led out of the atrium and walked until he was almost falling over.  He peeked into rooms until he found something that looked like a storeroom and tucked himself behind the crates there.  Then he passed out.

.

"Even if they have found another Mouth, Clockwork is useless to their alliance without his predictions.  As long as the oracle has the Mist of Ages, we will crush them."

Danny blinked himself awake.  Oh, that sounded interesting.  Mist of Ages, huh?  That sounded like something important.  That sounded like the thing ‘occluding’ Clockwork’s vision.  

"And the songbird's escape?"

"It won't stay escaped."

Screw them.  He would stay escaped.  

“The oracle is having a hard time seeing it.  Its turned human.”

“That won’t last forever.  I would never stay human for so long.”

“Songbirds have no standards.”

“They must have some pride.  Even they are demons.  In fact, its probably turned back and the oracle can see it now.”

“I doubt it.”

“You doubt me?  Your senior?  Very well.  Let’s go back and check.”

Danny carefully extricated himself from the boxes he’d fallen asleep among, and crept out of the store room, drawing on invisibility as much as he could.  Down the hall walked a pair of Observants.  He followed them.  

Maybe that was stupid.  He was trying to escape, after all, but if the oracle had the thing keeping Clockwork from seeing, even if he got caught, it might be worth it if he could destroy it.  Plus, he had no idea which way was the way out.  

The Observants reached a set of stairs and climbed up and up.  Danny, shaking, followed.  

The stairs were topped by a set of double doors guarded by Observants in armor.  They confronted the two Observants Danny had been following, and spoke to them for a while.  Then, they opened the doors.  

Danny hurried to follow them, slipping in just before the doors shut again.  

In the center of the room sat a huge, bloated Observant.  Despite its size, its eye was more than twice the size of the rest of its boxy.  Tiny, stubby horns poked up from its head.  It lounged among eye-embroidered cushions and in its clawed hand was a bottle that spilled fog into the room like there was a miniature fog machine in there.  

Or maybe not so miniature, Danny realized as he grew closer.  The bottle was as big as his torso, at least.  

His invisibility flickered, and he latched onto it with mental claws.  Not.  Now.  His eyes unfocused and his ears filled with static.  

Heck.  He really felt bad.  

“Oh, great oracle,” said one of the Observants.  “Prince of Seers!  Tell us, where is the songbird once called Phantom?”

The oracle’s great eye turned towards Danny.  Danny lunged forward, clawing and biting and scratching and basically doing everything his worn body was capable of.  This did not seem to be something the oracle expected.

Danny was beginning to doubt their credentials, vis a vis the whole ‘Prince of Seers’ bit.  

He got the bottle in his hands and smashed it on the ground.  This had the effect of filling the room with opaque smoke.  It also had the effect of giving Danny a very large weapon of very pointy glass.  

Uncaring of the smoke, he stabbed around himself wildly.  Everyone in here was an enemy.  Well, except for himself, and, mentally, he was relaxing in Tartarus, the Far Frozen, Long Now, or the Time Locked Lands, so there.  From the screams of pain, he was hitting targets.  

Then, he hit something big that burst like a balloon, the remains of the bottle serving to channel a lot of moist, bloody gel directly at Danny.  Oh.  Oh, gross.  He must have popped the oracle’s eye.  And now its eye goop was on him!  In his clothes!  On his skin!

Ew!

Not that all the Observants didn’t deserve to have their eyes popped, but.  Gross.  Very gross.  

All the lights in the room went out.  

Except… there was a skylight.  

In human form, he’d never make it up there, but in demon form…  He transformed.  The blindfold came back, but the claw coverings had, thankfully, been left behind.  Too attached to the chains, he guessed.  He licked them.  They felt raw and blunted, but they’d do.  He covered them with sharp ice and began his way up the wall.  

He remembered, more or less, where the window was, and when he thought he’d gotten close enough, he let ice spread out from his hands.  A sharp enough temperature change–

Something splintered, and he felt small pieces of glass rain down on him, accompanied by a breese.  There were shouts from below.  He ignored them.  

He was on the roof.  

How far up he was, he had no idea.  None at all.  But he had no choice.  He threw himself forward and flared his wings.  

He faltered, falling, the feathers that the Observants had cut from his wings enough to sabotage him after all, but then he remembered what it was like to fly as a ghost, and he pulled up.  

This was fine.  Fine!  Bats flew blind all the time, didn’t they?  Surely his hearing was at least as good as a bat’s!

Bats also could make echolocation sounds.  Danny was mute.  

He hit the ground and rolled, going human halfway through.  He lay sprawled on his back for several minutes, watching with pleasure as the Observants’ stupid building caught on fire.  He hadn’t thought his escape would cause so much chaos, but he hoped it hurt when they burned.  

… That was a kind of sadistic thought for him, wasn’t it?  

Maybe, but he’d never been tortured before, either, had he?

He kind of had, though.  

Not for that long.

Wasn’t talking to himself sort of a bad sign?

He pulled himself to his feet.  Now, all he had to do was get back to the Far Frozen, the Time Locked Lands, Long Now, or Tartarus.  Easy.  

Another way of putting that was to say all he had to do was travel an unknown distance in almost-literal hell, in an unknown direction, while avoiding an unknown number of demons, while literally and actively starving, and also human.  Probably by walking.  Less easy.  

Better than staying here.  He stumbled forward.  

.

He saw the yetis long before they saw him.  It was hard to imagine it happening otherwise.  The yetis were a range of ice-mountains, moving slowly across the volcanic plains, white and stately.  They looked, from this distance, like a cross between polar bears and lions.  

Danny walked towards them, pausing to wave every few minutes in case they saw him.  It seemed like forever before they did.  But when they turned towards him…  Oh, that was the best he’d felt in forever.  

He sat down and started to cry, just a bit.  

When they reached him, his earlier thought that their voices were too deep for humans proved true.  He could feel them speaking, the words vibrating in his bones, but he couldn’t understand any of it.  They seemed to understand that, though.  They gave him tasty jerky to chew on.  Definitely an understanding.  

Frostbite crouched in front of him.  There was a box hanging around his neck, like the little cask around the neck of a St. Bernard.  He took it off and put it on the ground next to Danny.  Compared to Danny, it wasn’t so little.  It was easily the size of a good sized room.  Frostbite took the lid off the box, and picked Danny up, carefully, telegraphing the movement far in advance.  

Within the box was a hammock, a great number of pillows and blankets, and a small lamp.

Before he could be tucked into the box, no matter how inviting it looked with all the soft, cozy pillows and the comfortable hammock, he grabbed a handful of Frostbite’s fur.

“Did you mean it?” asked Danny, hoarsely.  “When you said I had a choice?”  He switched to demon form so he could hear the answer.  

“Of course!” said Frostbite.  “But choosing to follow one's instincts is also a choice.  You could have refused to carry any of our messages, after all, but you did not.  I would hesitate to do so, under the current circumstances, but some would consider you quite fortunate that your new instincts align so well with your personal values.  Even before you became a Mouth, you desired to be helpful, to be useful, to be valued, did you not?  And now you can be, simply by playing the role you have been adapted for.  Some would consider it fate.”

Danny would… not discount fate, exactly.  He flipped back human.  “Where are you taking me?” he asked, before going back to demon form.  Switching back and forth was starting to give him a headache.  

“To Long Now.  We may still retain our medical knowledge, but the physical practice of it… Even before you were taken, it was beginning to slip from us.  Clockwork will be able to help you.  Now, you must go in.”  Frostbite pushed him down a bit more firmly, and Danny let go.  The lid of the box clicked closed above him.  

He went human.  He wanted to see.  

The inside of the box was painted with the same pattern as the inside of the messenger room in Dora’s castle.  There had to be a meaning to that, there had to…

The pattern lit up, little lights moving this way and that.  Danny felt his pupils go wide and his muscles relax.  Oh, he thought, oh.  This is what it was for.  He felt the rough edges of his mind… they didn’t disappear.  It was more like they were put on mute.  

He cuddled down into the blankets and pillows.  So comfy.  So nice, watching the little lights.  

The lid of the box opened, and the little lights went out.  He made a muffled noise of protest as he was lifted from the box not by Frostbite, but by Clockwork.  

“Hello, Daniel,” said Clockwork, carrying him deeper into Long Now.  “I am sorry this happened to you.  I know this is something that makes you anxious, so rest assured that you would have been rescued even if those fools had succeeded in making you a songbird.  If nothing else, you would have always had a place here.”  Clockwork gestured up at Danny’s cage. 

Danny blinked at him, at first feeling nothing but gratitude, but…  “Did you… mean for this to happen?”

“Daniel, if I wanted you made into a songbird, I would have merely needed to lock the door behind you that first night, and it would have been beyond easy to take care of the rest of the steps myself.  I know you are not in a state to be interested in the details, but the Observants did a horribly sloppy, rushed job in their hurry to throw you back in our faces.  If I were making you into a songbird, I would start with letting you help me pick out the music.”

That was… weirdly comforting.  

“In any case, if I were to make you into anything but a messenger, I would make you into a scribe.  You would be much more suited for that role, even if their rarity surpassed even that of songbirds.”

Still comforting.  Somehow.  

“But I would never do that without talking to you about it.”  He sat Danny down on a stool.  “I will begin with an IV and food for your human form,” he said.  “I want it to be strengthened before we start on your demon form, so it is not forgotten again.”

Danny nodded and offered up his arm.  Clockwork, somehow, seemed to pluck an IV from thin air and carefully placed it in Danny’s arm.  Food, human food, or at least human-looking food, similarly appeared from nowhere.

“Eat,” said Clockwork, “but slowly.”

.

“Clockwork,” said Danny, after he had made his way through several tiny, well-spaced meals, “can’t I just… fix my human half when I go home?  I mean, you told me to go to a hospital, so…”

“Ah,” said Clockwork.  “I’m afraid that’s no longer possible.”

Danny frowned.  “Why not?”

“My powers have also shifted.  I can no longer make temporal or physical portals.”  He snapped his fingers, as if to demonstrate.  “If I could, I would have sent you home straight from here all those weeks ago.  This means that you would have to fly there yourself.”

Danny frowned.  “Yeah?  So?”

“When our allies discovered the Observants had captured you, they turned the majority of their forces towards them.”

Danny hadn’t realized that.  Hadn’t dreamed of being that important to them.  

“This, in turn, meant abandoning some other projects.”  He sighed.  “We had hoped to conquer the lands around the portal, both for the benefits access to the human world would bring, and for your ease, but it is no longer possible.  The alliance of Vladimir, Fright Knight, and Technus is formidable.  I do not believe they would let you pass without trying to keep you.”

“Oh,” said Danny.  

“Do not worry,” said Clockwork.  “The age is yet young, the balance of power unstable.  Alliances like theirs fall apart all the time.  You may yet return.  For now, put your effort into recovering, so you may help us.”

“You think I’ll still be useful?”

“As I said, even as a songbird, you would be useful, and, according to Frostbite, you had yet to undergo any of the physical changes that herald the transition from messenger to songbird.”

“I could hear the music, though, in my head.”

“Not ideal,” said Clockwork, “but you will recover.  I can see the future, you know.”

“Promise?”

.

Danny examined himself in the vanity mirror.  It was strange, perhaps, but despite what had happened with the Observants, his birdcage didn’t bother him at all.  It felt like home, now, nice and secure.  The only person who could lock him in this cage was Clockwork, and Clockwork would only do that if he was trying to do something stupid, like fly on broken wings, or if it were very expedient indeed.  

Speaking of things not bothering him…  He looked just as he had before the Observants caught him.  Even his filed-down claws had recovered.  The only scars the encounter had left were mental.  

Hopefully, Clockwork would let him start working again soon.  He was getting a little jittery from being cooped up in Long Now.  Not that Long Now wasn’t interesting, or that Clockwork wasn’t taking wonderful care of him, giving him as much food as he could eat!  It was just that he’d been in for a long time.  

“Daniel,” called Clockwork from below.  “Come down.  I have something for you.”

Danny didn’t need to be told twice.  He leapt from his cage and flew down to hover in front of Clockwork.

“Do you remember what we talked about before you left?” asked Clockwork, smiling and leading Danny to a piece of wall that consisted of a mirror-polished gear.  “The summoning rings?”

Danny nodded.  

“They are done,” said Clockwork, pulling a set of five rings from inside the sleeve of his robes.  They were silver, the same color as Danny’s filigree.  “They resize to fit the wearer,” he explained as he slipped one over his own wrist.  He handed the remaining four to Danny, then pulled two more from his other sleeve.  “May I?”

Danny bounced eagerly, wings fluttering.  Clockwork’s stance took on an indulgent tint.  

“Turn around,” he said.

Clockwork slid one of the two rings over Danny’s left horn, all the way to the base, where it touched his skin, and the second ring over his right.  They sat there, dense and cool, but they didn’t quite feel right.  He tilted his head one way, then the other.  

“Stay still,” chastised Clockwork, and Danny stopped, obediently.  

Clockwork placed each of his index fingers on Danny’s horns, right above the rings, which felt nice, then slowly drew them back, all the way to the tips of the horn.  The horns grew, and Danny gasped at the sensation.  The silver rings resisted the growth, tightening.  This, he realized, was what the muzzle hooked to his horns had almost achieved.  Any more, and it would have been painful, any less and it wouldn’t have felt secure.  

Clockwork tugged gently on the rings, making sure they were firmly in place.  “They will stretch, somewhat, with your horns as they grow,” said Clockwork, “but your horns should not grow much more.  Would you like me to show you how they work?”

Danny nodded, happiness bubbling inside him.  

Clockwork raised the wrist his ring was on.  “All one of us has to do,” he said, “is touch the ring and think strongly of you coming to us.”  

The rings around Danny’s horns started to impart a sort of vibrating, pulling energy to him.  Involuntarily, he took a step towards Clockwork.  

“Of course, if we are wearing them, we are already touching them.  I would like you to deliver the other three to our allies.  Along with a few messages from myself.”

Danny hugged Clockwork.  Yes!  Not only was this a great gift by itself, but he got to start working again!  He could be useful again!  But Clockwork had said three allies, not four.  Who was the fourth ring for?  Not Jazz, anymore, with how inaccessible the human realm was.

“Ah,” said Clockwork, “just in time.”  

Danny looked up, then at the doors.  Was Clockwork predicting a visitor?

“A friend, back from delivering a message to the Kingdom of Gluttony.”  

The doors of Long Now swung open, and a demon flew in.  They… looked exactly like Danny.  Identical, down to the color of their eyes and the rings around their horns.

He stared.  They stared.  Then, they started to smile, and Danny knew.  Knew.  

Dani!

He opened his arms wide and so did she.  They ran towards one another and embraced, touching their horns together.  They couldn’t transmit messages themselves, but they could share the feeling that came with the touch.  Danny was so relieved she was alright!

“As I said,” said Clockwork, all twelve of his eyes glittering, “I thought you would like one to give to your sister.  And, Danielle, I believe you have one to give to your brother?”  

Shyly, Dani slipped a ring off her wrist and offered it to Danny, who exchanged it with one of his own.  

“Excellent,” said Clockwork.  He patted them both on their heads.  “Now, Danielle, I believe you have a message for me?”

Dani opened her mouth and Danny couldn’t help but keep smiling.  This was such a wonderful day!

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2023 #i can technically say this is a fantasy au right? #right? #I'll count it for dannymay anyway #dannymay 2023

[mamisfavmosher]

taunting call (part 2) // poly!judgment day x fem!reader

SMUT - MINORS DNI

warnings: mommy k!nk, daddy k!nk, suggestive language, oral, penetration, praise k!nk, slight degradation??, pure filth

summary: rhea, finn, and dom get back to the hotel in a hurry so that they can "appreciate" their girl in her tiny lil bikini (although she ends up appreciating them, more so)

After Rhea hung up the facetime call with Damian, she had filled Finn and Dom in on what she had just witnessed and ushered them into their rental car. Finn made quick work of speeding through traffic to get to the hotel. Once they were parked, the three of them filed out of the car, leaving suitcases and belongings behind in order to get to the pool area.

"Are they almost here?" I asked Damian who was lazily running his fingertips along my spine while I lay on his chest, his free hand scrolling through his phone.

"Should be here any minute, baby." He responded and left a lingering peck on my forehead.

"Priest! Leave some for the rest of us!" Damian and I turned our heads at the sudden shout and immediately spotted the three wrestlers quickly walking over. "We got here as quick as we could, but the traffic was absolutely horrible-" Dom stopped himself mid-sentence as his eyes took in my attire. "Woah."

"Hi, guys!" I got off the cabana bed and reached out to give them all individual hugs, relishing in the way their hands roamed my body. "Are you gonna come swim with us?"

"We're going up to the hotel room and you're coming with us." Rhea said in all seriousness. Her hands grabbed my waist and pulled me closer to her.

"Hi, Mami." I whispered and looked up at her through my lashes.

"Hey, baby." She replied in a soft tone and sweetly kissed my lips. Finn and Dom moved to sit beside Damian while Mami showed me her affection.

"Give us a spin, lass. You look beautiful." Finn complimented. I giggled and let Rhea take my hand to spin me around. "Absolutely breathtaking." The boys let out whistles and compliments as Rhea spun me.

"Alright, let's head up to the room. Dom's about to burst out of his pants." Damian laughed out before Dom silenced him with a harsh elbow to the ribs. The rest of us chuckled and Finn helped wrap a towel around my body.

We swiftly made our way back to the hotel room and as soon as the door was closed and locked, Dom yanked the towel off of me and pulled me into a deep kiss. His hands roamed my waist and hips while occasionally reaching down to squeeze my butt. I soon felt Rhea's hands join the mix.

Her fingers were toying with the strings of my bikini bottoms, gently pulling them up my hips to expose more of my butt. I let out a soft moan as her warm palms slid under the fabric, gently squeezing my skin.

"Lay on the bed, baby." Damian said while pulling me away from Rhea and Dom, gently tossing me onto the bed so I was laying on my back. He sat on the bed behind me so that he was leaning against the headboard, pulling me close to lean back on his chest. Rhea laid on one side of me while Finn and Dom sat near the end of the bed.

Mami kissed me deeply before swiping her tongue on my bottom lip. I quickly granted her access and whimpered at the feeling of her tongue exploring every inch of my mouth.

"Blue raspberry?" Mami asked, humming as her tongue left my mouth. "Your favorite. Daddy must have been treating you so well. Getting you your favorite slushies," She licked a stripe up my neck, her fingers tweaking my nipples through the bathing suit. "Tell me, babydoll. What else did Daddy do for you?" Rhea's tone was low, aiming a smirk up at Damian who was combing his fingers through her hair.

The words in my mind were an incoherent jumble due to the multiple sensations being inflicted on my body. Damian's nails were lightly scratching my scalp, the warmth of his strong chest radiating onto my skin. Finn and Dom were both running there hands up and down my legs, fiddling with the strings on my bikini bottoms and leaving soft kisses on my thighs and hips.

Rhea waited for an answer while yanking my top to the side in the process. She licked her lips before lowering her head to take one of my nipples in her mouth.

"Daddy-" I cut myself off with a moan as Rhea started gently using her teeth on my chest. "Daddy treated me so... so well. He-" The pleasure coming from Rhea's mouth rendered me speechless.

"Go on, baby. Tell Mami just how well I was treating you. Tell her how much of a good girl you've been." He cooed with a smirk. "Let her know how you sat so pretty and let Daddy fuck your face." His thumb slipped past my lips, a sign of him telling me to suck. Rhea grinned at the sight and pecked a few kisses onto my cheek.

"Is that right, baby? You let Daddy use you as much as he wanted? Took it all like the good girl that you are?" Her hand gripped my jaw as she spoke to me and I did my best to nod.

All of our attention turned to Finn as he made a sound of disapproval. "Sounds to me like you just went along with whatever Damian asked of ya..." His hand untied one side of my bottoms. "To make sure you got whatever you wanted." He tutted with a raised eyebrow, silently daring me to prove him wrong. Yanking my bikini bottoms down my legs and throwing them across the room, Finn harshly squeezed my hip to secure my attention.

"Finn's got a point, chica." Dom placed a kiss on my knee before rubbing his hand up and down my thigh. "You've been known to suck our dicks in order to get something you want." He playfully shrugged as I shot a glare at him.

"Well, it always works doesn't it?" I mumbled under my breath, but instantly regretted it as they all looked at me with feigned disappointment. "I didn't mean that, I swear! I just-" An icy gaze from Finn shut me up quickly.

"It's fine. You're just a spoiled little brat who manipulates people to get what she wants. Right?" Rhea cocked her head to the side as she asked this, her words laced with a hint of poison. I frantically shook my head to disagree with her. "No?" Her finger traced down the side of my face. "Then how about you show the boys how much you love sucking their dicks and that you don't get them off just to get something in return." She roughly grabbed my jaw and sat me up, shoving me in the direction of Damian's pants.

My fingers made quick work of unbuttoning his pants and pulling out his cock, nervousness causing my hands to shake. I cautiously looked up at Priest to find him already staring down at me. His thumb found my chin and forcefully opened my mouth while his other hand shoved his cock in. Mami was petting my hair, hums of approval sounding from her throat as she took in the scene.

"You wanna show your appreciation for Finn and Dom Dom, too?" She asked. I was already gagging from the length of Damian's cock, but I managed to nod as best as I could. "Alright, boys, go ahead." Rhea wore a sadistic smile as she gestured for the boys to undress and join in on the action. She swiftly untied my bathing suit top and groped my tits from behind as I bobbed my head up and down.

Damian moved me back so I was laying down and crawled on top of me, his dick right in front of my mouth. I happily parted my lips and let him do the work of moving his hips. Reaching out my hands to Dom and Finn, I grabbed hold of them and started attempting the best hand job I could offer at the moment. Every now and then, I would open my eyes to glance around and see Rhea fiddling with her strap-on, attaching it to her waist.

I was caught off guard by Damian pulling himself out of my mouth, multiple strings of spit linking my tongue to his cock. "How much do you love this cock, baby? Show Daddy some appreciation." He demanded, his hand gently wrapping around my throat.

"I love your cock s-so much, Daddy-" I started, but leaned up to kitten lick the tip instead. Rhea was now in my peripheral view as her hand fisted into my hair and yanked my head back down onto the bed. Damian shoved himself back into my mouth and ruthlessly fucked my face as Rhea caressed my cheeks.

"Yeah? You love Daddy's cock?" She tucked some strands behind my ear, waiting for a response. I let out a muffled sound that resembled a 'yes' as his tip hit the back of my throat, tears beginning to stream down my face. "Then make him come." She left a burning kiss on my cheek and I did my best to suck and move my tongue for Damian, eventually feeling his hips stutter. He filled my mouth with his cum and rolled off of me, watching me expectantly. "He gave you a present. Accept it and say thank you." Rhea's tone was aggressive as she lightly pinched my arm. I swallowed what was in my mouth, a few drops dribbling out of the corner of my mouth that Rhea was quick to lick away. "C'mon, what do you say?"

"Thank you, Daddy." I breathed out, my chest heaving from the previous lack of air. Priest reached out to ruffle my hair and smirked down at me.

"You're welcome, princesa. But I don't believe you've received all of your presents yet." He gestured towards Finn and Dom who eagerly came toward me.

Rhea patted the side of my leg before demanding, "Get on all fours." I did as I was told and waited in anticipation as she filled Finn and Dom in on what they were going to do. She came around the bed to stand in front of me and Dom quickly maneuvered himself to lay underneath me. Finn stayed behind me and almost immediately started rubbing his tip through my arousal.

"Okay, baby. Finn's gonna take you from behind while you're riding Dom Dom. I want you to make them both feel good, okay?" Rhea was starting to take control, Damian now sitting against the bed post and enjoying the show. She shoved two fingers into my mouth at the same time that Dom and Finn both pushed into me. Her fingers muffled my loud moan before she pulled them out and smeared my spit onto my cheek, quickly replacing them with her strap-on. The toy was thrusted into my mouth, Mami holding my head in place so I couldn't move away.

I worked my hips against Finn and Dom to hopefully gain them some pleasure, but they eventually took matters into their own hands, keeping me still and rutting into me at their own paces. Once I had gagged on Mami's cock enough for her liking, she pulled out of my mouth and smiled at me while wiping her thumb across my chin.

"Look at you, babygirl. The little cock slut of the Judgment Day, huh? You drooled all over Mami's cock like a good girl." She smirked and leaned down to give me a bruising kiss, lightly biting at my tongue. I moaned out as Dom and Finn started thrusting into me faster, and I reached out to hold onto Rhea's arms for support. Pounding me into oblivion, the boys were quickly approaching their orgasms, rocking me back and forth. Their thrusts grew sloppy and I felt them both pull out before painting my stomach and butt with their cum.

Rhea instructed me not to move while she circled around to the other side of the bed and scooped some of Finn's cum off of my butt and smeared it through my folds, her thumb starting to quickly circle my clit. "What do you say to Dom Dom and Finn, pretty girl? They just gave you a present." Rhea mentioned, harshly slapping my butt.

"Th-thank you! Thank you, Finn and Dom Dom..." I stammered out as Mami's thumb still worked on my clit.

Finn gently gripped my jaw and gave me a sweet kiss. "Anytime, lass. Now focus on Mami. She's gonna let you come soon." He landed another peck on my cheek before joining Damian near the bed post. Dom stayed underneath me, massaging and kneading my tits. I moaned loudly as Mami stuck two fingers inside of me, quickly thrusting them in and out.

"You gonna come, babydoll? I know you're close." Her fingers moved faster causing me to whimper. I felt the knot building in my stomach and desperately shoved my hips back toward her to get more of her touch, her chuckle sounding from behind me. "Patience, hun. I'll get you there." I whimpered at her words and she curled her fingers inside of me, the knot beginning to unravel. I moaned her praises as she slowed her movements, allowing me to calm down. "Such a good girl, baby. So good for all of us."

"Yeah, we're definitely going to spoil you for this." Dom chuckled from underneath me and I laid down to rest on his chest, cuddling my face into his neck. I felt Mami petting my hair, moving to lay beside us.

"Give Mami some cuddles, too, babe." She laughed and pulled me from Dom onto her chest. I eagerly snuggled into her as well before softly mumbling a, "Thanks for the orgasm, Mami." I felt her chest shake as she giggled. "No problem, bub." She kissed the top of my head and tightened her arms around me in a protective hug.

The four of them spent the rest of the day surrounding me in the hotel room. They were constantly checking on me to make sure I felt okay after their slightly rough session with me. I reassured them every time and they came up with multiple ideas on how to spoil me for the next few days.

#wwe #rhea ripley #the judgement day #wwe superstars #dominik mysterio #finn balor #damian priest #fanfiction #rhea ripley x reader #dominik mysterio x reader #finn balor x reader #damien priest x reader #the judgment day x reader #monday night raw #friday night smackdown #wwe x reader

[incognitonoggin]

what are your yandere proxies hcs? ^_^

YANDERE PROXY HEADCANNONS

SFW AND NSFW !!

MINORS DNI

GN READER

Includes: Masky (Tim), Hoodie (Brian) and Toby.

CONTAINS: Yanderes, Violence, “Hunting”, Sexual Aggression, Praising, Degradation, ETC

MASKY / TIM

SFW

• Knowing this man, he’d be so playful about hunting you, intentionally doing things to allow you to get just out of his grasp and leave him

• But He knows he’ll get to you anyway.

• Considering he has his little “Masky Alter Ego”, his personality would switch up quite a lot

• One second he’d be all over you like a dog slobbering over steak, then the next he’d be laughing in your face and mocking how pathetic you seemed to be.

• You could try to fight him off as much as you please, but at the end of the day you both know who’s in control

• Have fun being stuck right next to him at all times!

NSFW

• Rolling back around to him being playful about his “hunt” for you, it’d most likely make him a bit aggressive when it comes down to sex.

• I mean, he waited so long just to have you, just to even get to you, and nows his chance!

• His words would be a mix of praise and degradation, claiming you as his and calling you perfect but throwing in a harsh “bitch” at the end or something along those lines

• Might have you yelling his name, other creeps plugging up their ears and pleading to god you guys stop sometime soon /hj

• He wont be easy on you, but it wont be all bad! Just a bit very rough.

HOODIE / BRIAN

• Gahhhh the chase will be so easy for him, I’m sorry

• He’s quite fast, so you’ll think you lost him, but he appears behind a tree or something the second you look around.

• It’ll go somewhat like that for a while, just a loop until you damn near lose your sanity just waiting for him to pop up again

• Once he’s done with the games, he’ll snatch you up and bring ya home! Or, at least, what will soon be your home. Together.

• Brian will make you scared enough to make you not even think about trying anything. He’ll let you walk in front of him with his gun pressed against your temple, the cold metal making you shiver.

• He’s gonna be quiet, but you can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s demanding you to do something, and for your safety, you should

NSFW

• Hope you’re not a cat person, because it’s almost always gonna be doggystyle.

• He will grip the hell out of your hips, leaving subtle bruises that will show up later

• Your sobs will encourage him to keep going, egging him on knowing he’s bringing you that much pleasure, knowing full well he’s going to be the one and only to do so

• More aggressive than Tim, however he doesn’t degrade you much. Kind of quiet to be honest.

TICCI TOBY / TOBIAS

• Alright stop scrolling, he’s MINE /j

• For him, the chase wouldn’t be that serious.

• I mean, come on, he knows he’ll catch you in the end (kind of like Tim) and to see that terrified look on your pretty face would make ‘em more delighted than ever

• It’s like a fucked up game to him. Go ahead and run! You will get far, but I can get farther.

NSFW

• Depends on his mood, but he might just ravish you inside if an abandoned building to be real.

• Not as rough as all of the others, but will DEFINITELY be handsy

• will grab your hips tightly and just go. Good luck for you !!, because your insides are going to be slushy after what he does to you /hj

• Mostly just praise. A lot of claiming, too! Will just be yapping in your ear about how you belong to him and how good you make him feel.

• Love bites. Hickeys. You name it!

Thank you for submitting anon !! I tried my best on this, so I really hope you like it :3 . .

#bloody painter #creepypasta headcannons #nathan lux #nathan the nobody #ticci toby headcannons #ticci toby smut #masky headcanons #masky marble hornets #tim masky #marble hornets #brian hoodie #hoodie #hoodie headcanons #creepypasta proxy #slender proxy #proxy headcannons #masky headcannons #masky smut

[ghostplasmas]

Ieytd fandom. Come hither. I truly believe from the deepest recesses of my charred heart of coal that juniper should be allowed to be the whiny bitch man-baby he is in the game. Let him be an egotistical power hungry maniac PLEASE. I need more. Let that man be your average silly villain. This game radiates Saturday morning cartoon energy and I NEED more of that for juniper. Let him be evil. Have him throw a little whiny baby tantrum like in the game. He's a 40 year old man child who thinks he should own everything he looks at. I want to beat him with a hammer. I want to grind him into a slushie. I want to turn him into paste. We need more content of juniper being a little shit PLEASE. I need more. He's so fucking funny in the games cause he's such a little SHIT. He's so manipulative and egotistical. He's so charming and funny but then as soon as he doesn't get what he wants, the façade drops and he turns into a little whiny BITCH. Shaking all of you PLEASE let him be evil. I'm on my hands and knees sobbing.

#ghost rambling moment #tw uh. me threatening to kill a character in a comidic fashion #ieytd john juniper #john juniper ieytd #this is all very light hearted by the way #but i truly do believe that Juniper should be allowed to be evil #your honor my man did that shit. he's 100% guilty. it was funny as hell though #i expect you to die #i expect you to die 2 #ieytd #ieytd2 #john juniper

[meganslife]

Pen pals - p. parker

TASM! Peter Parker x Fem! reader

summary: peter parker is your pen pal.

warnings: none so far!!!

hello helloooo!!! i had this idea because i myself have a pen pal, and it’s honestly really fun and reminds me of peter. this will be multiple parts!! anyhoo, happy reading!

Having a pen pal was fun. It gave you something to look forward to whenever you needed to open the mailbox. It was nice, although your lovely pen pal, Peter, was on the other side of the country. You were in Seattle. He was in Queens, New York. It was a nice arrangement that you two had. No phone numbers, just handwritten letters, and cute little pictures.

When you opened your apartment mailbox and saw that you had a letter from Peter, your heart felt warm. It was the warmest you’ve felt in a while.

Y/N,

My apologies for not writing you back sooner. School is kicking my butt recently, and I moved back in with May (hence why a new address is on the envelope). My old roommate went BALLISTIC on me for little things, so I decided I needed to leave. May is a better person to have around, anyway.

The fall semester ended last week, and I wish I could say that I passed my finals. My professors are just mean, I think. I’ve been super stressed out lately, and writing this letter is helping me. You’re my savior. Also, the pictures you sent me of you in Tennessee are amazing. You should be a model! I’m sure you hear that a lot because of how pretty you are;)

I hope it’s not too cold in Seattle. I took some pictures of random things I thought you’d like, maybe that’ll distract you from how cold it is. I know how much you hate the cold. (You chose the wrong place to live!)

Anyhoo, I’m sorry this letter is short. My wrist is cramping up and May needs help with dinner. Write back as soon as you can.

Much love,

Peter ♥

Photo one: Peter in an obnoxiously large New Year’s Eve hat, grinning from ear to ear with his friend(?)

Photo two: A Polaroid of stray cats bonding in what you assume is Peter’s front yard.

Photo three: A Polaroid of Peter that was clearly taken by May. Peter is holding a tray of muffins, and he looks really stupid in his apron.

You get to writing him a letter right away.

Dear Peter,

I love the pictures. I’ll add them to my growing collection on my wall:)

My day has been so shitty. I wish you were here. It gets lonely, sometimes. I have friends, I’ve told you very little about them. They’re great, don’t get me wrong, but living alone is just lonely. Maybe I should get a cat or something. I need something to come home to. (Sorry for making this portion of the letter sad. I just needed someone to talk to.)

The weather in Queens looks nice. You’re awfully lucky, Peter. It’s cold and slushy here. I’m cold to the bone. Like, nothing will warm me up. It’s annoying. I just want it to be summer again. I hate being pale and cold.

I don’t have any pictures as of right now, so I’m sorry about that. I have some drawings I could give you.

My letter is short too, so I guess we’re even. I need to nap the sadness away.

Cold and loving,

Y/N ♥

~

The next letter you receive from Peter is about a week later.

My dearest Y/N,

I’m so sorry you aren’t feeling well.

I know we said we wouldn’t exchange phone numbers, and I respect that, but I just need to give you mine. I need to. Just in case. I don’t want you to be sad and lonely and have to wait for my letters to come. I like you. I like you A LOT– And I honestly want to meet you in person but that’s a conversation for another day. I’ve been saving up for it. Maybe you should come during the spring? You’d love it here, I know it. Or I could come to you? Whatever, we can talk about it more over the phone.

My phone number:

(718)-XXX-XXXX

Call me;)

Love always,

Peter ♥

You immediately spring up to your feet and grab your phone. Your hands were shaking as you dialed the number and called it, praying he wouldn’t think it was a spam call.

“Pete?” You ask, voice higher than you meant it to be.

Boyish laughter erupts on the other end of the line, and you already know that it’s Peter. Of course, his laugh would sound so sweet.

“Hi, lovie.”

#tasm peter parker #tasm peter #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker smut #mcu peter x reader #mcu peter parker #writing #ao3 #art #poetry #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #literature #writers on tumblr #poem #writers and poets #across the spider verse spoilers #spiderman atsv #spiderman

[dmercer91]

“she’s such a sweet girl. nobody tries to see through her when she’s quiet,” he mumbled

it makes luca so sad sometimes that not everyone can see black cat!reader the way he does

and he voices his frustrations to her one time “baby i just want everyone to see you how i do!”

and she starts to try to put herself out of her she’ll a little- but it makes her uncomfortable

and luca quickly notices and it just furthers how much he loves her- because she’s willing to try and make him happy, regardless of how it makes her feel

(although he immediately brings it to her attention and is like “please don’t make yourself uncomfortable pretty, if they can’t love you, that’s their fault”)

i was so excited when i got this ask cause i’ve been trying to fit in rutgers gf into this au

and this is the perfect opportunity

so!!

this is set after they have the whole i want everyone to understand you conversation

comfort zone | opposites attract au, lf63

landen didn’t have a comfort zone, per say. it was more of a comfort room. a comfort closet, even.

there weren’t many things she felt she wanted to do, and if it wasn’t absolutely necessary, it wasn’t gonna happen.

and making luca happy? that, to her, was absolutely necessary.

that’s how she found herself sitting next to rutgers girlfriend, kayleigh, in a class they shared.

“hey! it’s landen, right?” landen smiled tightly and nodded, clutching her bag to her chest and fiddling with the keychain on it

“it’s nice to meet you more one on one. there’s always so much going on at games or parties,” kayleigh smiled, pulling her laptop out of her bag and setting up

“nice to meet you too.” landen said, quietly but still loud enough to hear

“uh. would you want to go to that diner near the social science building after class?” suddenly, her heart was beating a mile a minute and she questioned every life decision she had ever made

kayleigh smiled to herself, already knowing that landen wasn’t the type to ask things like this. she was confused, honestly a little honoured

“yeah, of course. you go there with rut all the time, yeah? he’s always bragging about it. i’ll get to tease him now, too,” landen chuckled, nodding and taking her laptop out of her tote, the prof coming to the front of the class.

the diner was quiet when they got there. kayleigh carried most of the conversing, asking some questions that surprisingly didn’t come with vague answers, only quiet ones.

“well, rutger make me promise slushies earlier today, so i’ve gotta go. but we should do this more! i’ll grab your number from him and we can talk more,” landen smiled. genuinely smiled- her teeth barely shining through as she nodded and stood from the booth

“luca will wonder where i was, so me too. thank you for coming with me,” she gestured to the table and kayleigh nodded, waving an enthusiastic goodbye while landen stacked the plates quickly and walked off

luca was blending a smoothie when she got back, but stopped as soon as he heard the door.

he tilted his head as she walked in and he got a good look at her

“you look both like you won the lottery and are about to puke. what happened?”

landen shook her head, wrapping herself around luca while he peppered kisses onto her temple. and soothed his hands on her back and hips

“i asked kayleigh if she wanted to get food,” she murmured, resting her head on lucas shoulder

“she’s really nice. we’re doing it again. but i never wanna ask someone to be around me, ever. how do you do that?” he chuckled, cupping her head

“you don’t need to, pretty. s’ this cause of last night? our talk,” she only nodded, a small frown taking over his face

“don’t make yourself uncomfortable for my sake, lan. it’s alright. i don’t like to share, anyways,” luca teased, grinning down at her.

she giggled, kissing his cheek and looking up into his eyes from his shoulder

“i love you, lu.”

“i love you, too, pretty”

#opposites attract au ! #e’s 500 celly! #e’s blurbs! #luca fantilli #luca fantilli x reader #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #umich hockey

[smad-lesbian]

Imagine: Heathers are SO JEALOUS of JD flirting with Veronica, so they decided to make a party where the only person invited was Veronica. (It means that they all ditched the Remington's party, so no Veronica puking on Chandler's shoes, no Chandler saying that she will destroy Veronica's social life, no Veronica going to JD and no Chandler drinking drano)

Hell yeah, really love this prompt, I am a sucker for jealous Heathers and extremely oblivious Veronica.

Also this is how it should have gone-

"Don't forget to buy corn nuts!" Chandler yelled out from her car, leaning over it to scream at Veronica, who was heading inside the 7/11, said girl nodded at Chandler's demand, only slightly rolling her eyes before turning back, looking at the other two Heathers standing in the back seat.

"Do you guys want anything?" She called back at Duke and McNamara, both who were having small talk at the back of the red porsche.

They both turned to face the taller girl, Mac shrugged while Duke pondered for a second before looking up, "A big gulp, please." Veronica nodded, before turning back, entering the cold 7/11.

Duke and McNamara turned right back to their conversation about whatever latest gossip was going on in the halls of Westerburg.

It was only after a good 15 minutes that Duke began to shift in her seat, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her skirt in a nervous manner.

"Veronica has been gone for a long time now." Duke whispered, looking out the window at 7/11.

"Shut up, Heather!" Chandler snapped at her, but she furrowed her eyebrows at the words, her lips pursed as she internally (she would rather die than say it out loud) that Duke had a point, it had been a suspicious amount of time since Veronica got out.

Chandler sighed in annoyance, before digging her palm into the car keys, pulling them out with a tad too much force as she quickly opened the door.

"Come on." She said vaguely, not bothering to look behind her as she strolled into the 7/11, knowing that the other two Heathers were right behind her.

The semi-cold breeze of a barely functional air conditioner hit her as she scanned for the familiar tuffs of brown hair.

It wasn't long before she locked eyes with Veronica, she was facing away from them, looking engrossed into something.

Chandler noticed the familiar trench coat.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

She heard quite whispering behind her, probably McNamara, who also noticed the Bo Diddley rip off was talking to Veronica, leaning on the counter with a wolfish grin.

She was going to bury him alive.

Chandler walked (Stomped) over to the pair, putting a firm hand on Veronica's waist as she came within arms reach of the girl.

"Ronnie! Mind telling me what the fuck is taking so long?" Chandler asked Veronica, her voice sickenly sweet as she dug her nails into Veronica's arm.

Veronica didn't seem to mind brushing off the clear annoyance with an eye roll, "Sorry Heather, I was talking to JD, must have lost track of time." She said, her gaze flicking back to JD for a second, before she was distracted by another presence behind her.

"Well, sorry to interrupt, but we have to get going." Heather Duke said with gritted teeth as she sent JD a glare before giving Veronica a small, yet sweet smile.

Veronica gave a small smile back, before feeling a hand snake up around her waist, whom she already concluded was probably McNamara.

"We are so sorry to interrupt your eye fucking, but we have to get going." Mac glared at JD, who shrugged it off.

"Well, I'll see you later." He winked as he disappeared, probably to spike his slushie with steroids, Chandler thought, before tugging Veronica's arm outside.

Veronica grumbled in partial annoyance before she went along, mostly unfazed by the unusual amount of physical contact.

They soon got back in the car, (Veronica, Duke, and McNamara in the back, Chandler driving).

Chandler looked back at Veronica who seemed more interested in glancing outside the window, Chandler growled as she dug her nails into the steering wheel.

"Change of plans, party at my house tonight."

#heathers #veronica sawyer #heather chandler #heathers the musical #heather duke #chansaw #heather mcnamara #heathers 1988 #dukesaw #mcnamawyer #poly!heathersxveronica #poly!heathers #poly heathers + veronica #smadwrites #asks

[tainted-heartz]

| so..beach episode idea hcs just for wally & his s/o is officially here!!! (If u wanna get more and request more plz do so) funfact:I listened to california gurls on repeat while writing this |

- the idea of going to the beach was julie's idea from the start , running in one day and rambling about how they should go to the beach because its summer and its hot- it became a bigger ramble session but everyone agreed BESIDES wally who was dragged by you.

- as wally packed you swore you saw him pout. “ wally , are you pouting because you have to be away from home for a few hours? ” “ no , I hate the sun. ” he said in a almost cold tone and picked his bag up. “ now let's go , I won't enjoy it. ”

- as soon as you got to the beach he set up his own little area for you and him but if you go swim he almost gets upset. he hates water so he sits on his towel while eating watermelon or even sipping a drink with a swirly straw he brought. if you DO come back and lay down to relax or even read he'll be right on you not caring if your still covered in salt water he's just clingy-

- he actually has swim wear which is a pair of rainbow swim trunks and a button up thats the same pattern as most of his shirts. If you call him handsome or anything of the sort he'll glare but is very flattered.

- if you are bold enough to pick him up and force him to swim he WON'T be happy. you gently lift him up , he's expecting you to maybe and take him to get a slushie but you were walking towards the water. “ d..dearest the slushie stand is- ” “ we'll get that AFTER. you aren't gonna be a sour puss and not enjoy the water! ” no matter how much convincing you could do he'd ONLY stand at least at knee high water.

- you had looked away for a MINUTE and a wave had made him fall back and get his hair wet which you KNEW would be one of the things he'd get onto you for. you giggled as wally grabbed onto your leg , his hair covering his eyes and ruined. he didn't say a word and just held on till you picked him up. “ awh I'm so sorry wally! I didn't mean to..pff- ” “ you did mean to. now please I want my apple slushie to forget this. ”

- once he got his slushie you put a towel to his head and ruffled his hair to dry it , he sometimes acted like an over grown child but the same time can be terrifying.. there was no in between. you also noticed (somehow) he was just RED on some parts of his body. “ wally , do you..even get a slight tan? ” “ I burn. ” “ o..oh? ” you assumed he meant he just gets red because his skin (plush?) refuses to get any darker or accept sun.

- in all honesty most of the trip is wally laying on you and being curled up with a cold drink in his hand. you'll be lucky enough to see him watching barnaby and the others playing volleyball but his attention is on you the entire trip. he wants to be close and held no matter what , hell if you get sunburnt with him laying on you you'll get wally on you for a while..he'd be happy about that.

#welcome home arg #welcome home #welcome home x reader #welcome home arg x reader #wally darling #wally darling x reader #welcome home wally #welcome home wally x reader

[asnowfern]

Love Me Before The Bubble Bursts

Summary: It is the last night of her work conference in Adriata and Elain decided that she needed to have a little bit of fun. Who else better to show her than her smooth talking redheaded counterpart from Springton? Rating: T WC: 3.2k Read on AO3 Listen to odoriko by Vaundy for vibes✨✨✨

A/N: Written for Day 1 of @sjmromanceweek : First Date! Don't mind me, just continuing to defy time zones during fandom events as I always do!

A warm orange hue lights up the modern furnishing of the sleek hotel room. Not that Elain is looking at any of that. With a slight smile to herself, she stares at the bold headline on her phone that she has read for the umpteenth time today. 

VELARIS LEADS THE CHARGE WITH REGIONAL GRID PROJECT TO DRIVE RENEWABLE ENERGY ADOPTION TO NEW HEIGHTS!

Giving it one last fond stare, she locks the phone with a click and collapses back into the plush bed. The device slides out of her hand and bounces lightly. She covers her eyes with the back of her forearm as an exhaustion washes over her. 

It’s done. It’s finally done.

After months of slaving over stacks and stacks of documentation and late nights of calls stretching different time zones that stretched into early morning meetings with key political players driving the project, the agreement has finally been signed at the major international energy conference in Adriata. She is elated, relieved, exhausted. 

She is exhausted and empty.

Elain reaches her hand out, feeling blindly for the familiar slim rectangular device. The large numbers of her Lock Screen jump out at her behind the beautiful backdrop of the Illyrian Mountains - a constant reminder of what she is trying to save. 

08:54 PM

Not an entirely unreasonable time to head to bed, she reckons. Afterall, she does have a long flight ahead of her tomorrow. Her eyes glaze over at the tall white ceiling, her brain drifting off with it. 

“It’s all work to you, Lainey. You have made your priorities very clear. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t make this, make me, a priority.” 

Rich brown eyes sharpen and Elain sucks in a breath. She promptly sits up, glancing around the expensive room she would likely never be able to afford by herself. She floats herself to the glassed wall, taking in the panoramic view of how the river sparkles even in the dark night, the city skyscrapers glittering in the distance. 

Making the snap decision, she flips around and stalks to her packed luggage. With one thrust elbow deep into the bag, she pulls out the elegant yet fun jumpsuit Vassa had insisted she brought. 

It doesn’t have to always be all work. She reminds herself firmly. She can have fun and let loose too. 

***

Or maybe not. 

She thinks sulkily as she idly stirs her cylindrical bottomed drink, topped off with a silly umbrella. An Adriata Afternoon, they had called it. A sweet slushy cocktail that is reminiscent of a margarita but more refined. Stronger too, judging by how light her head is getting. 

Her brow creases slightly at the flashing lights lighting up the dance floor, momentarily illuminating the moving bodies smushed together, drawing attention to body parts that would probably be better off in the shadows. Heaving one heavy sigh, she empties her drink in one go, and is about to rise to her feet when a flash of auburn slides into the seat next to her. 

“Leaving so soon?” The velvet baritone voice asks with the same authority that, more often than not, vexes her over the line. 

The edges of her mouth quirks. She should leave, she thinks, still possessing enough awareness to know that. But still, she tilts her head towards him in casual observation and lets her gaze linger and wash over her gilded counterpart from Springton. 

He has shed his stuffy tie and jacket from the conference, choosing to roll his sleeves to his elbows instead and reveal more of the golden brown skin and toned forearms. The sensual curve of his lips flick upwards lazily, intoxicating russet eyes she had never quite seen this up close rakes over her, branding every inch of exposed skin. 

Suddenly, the room is all too hot. 

Elain closes her fingers over the still cool surface of her glass and clears her throat, “Mr Vanserra.” 

He raises a perfectly arched eyebrow, “It’s after five. Call me Lucien.” 

She can’t help but huff lightly at the absurdity of the statement, can’t help the sassiness that creeps into her voice as she retorts, “I recall having many, many conversations long past five pm with you,” and it may be the Adriata Afternoon wrecking its own brand of havoc on her but the next words escape her breathily, dragging out each syllable, “Mister Vanserra.”

“Touché,” he chuckles and offers her a glass identical to the one in his other hand, “but today is pretty momentous and we deserve it, don’t you think, Miss Archeron?” 

She takes the glass, their fingers touching for a brief moment. She tries with little success to ignore how they seem to tingle pleasantly.

“Well then,” she raises her glass, declaring, “To us.” 

The glasses clink harmoniously. 

“To us.” 

***

Elain giggles, her fingers idly swirling the empty glass. “The look on his face though!”

“On his face?!” Lucien sputters in mock outrage, flinging his hands in the air, “do you have any idea how many management meetings I had to sit through afterwards to convince Tamlin of the trade benefits of the project?”

She dissolves into giggles and uses one delicate finger to wipe off a tear from the edge of her eye. At some point over the course of the last two drinks, they had moved to the cozy booth at the corner of the bar, far away enough from the blaring noise of the crowd. The length of her outer thigh is resting against his while his shoulders are close enough to occasionally rub against hers. 

She tries futilely to stifle the laughter still bubbling in her chest to commiserate in a barely straight face, nodding sagely, “Must have been trying.” 

Russet eyes narrow and the beautiful face leans in, full of mischievous intent. “It was,” the low husky bedroom voice leaves a trail of goosebumps down the back of her neck. Elain’s breath hitches, her head instinctively angles to the side, exposing the delicate fair skin of her neck. Thick lips hover a mere centimetre away, puffing hot breath with every tantalising word, “and how does the Velarian Authority intend to compensate for the wasted time?”

She hums. “Messy to bring in legal,” her eyes flutter close in relish of the phantom touch of lips on skin, “what if we settle this privately?” 

“Oh?” 

Chocolate orbs open to smouldering russet. It burns hot and bright. She twists her body towards him, apprehension and desire warring within her. She asks, spurred by the liquid courage coursing through her veins, “Shall we get out of here?”

Surprise overtakes him for a moment. A moment is all that’s needed for her to pull back and begin backpedalling furiously. She adds hastily, “Out of this building I mean. This is my first time in Adriata and I have barely taken one step out of the building and-“

“Elain,” he cuts off her rambling with surprising warmth, wrapping her hand in his. He pauses, flicking his gaze towards her strapping heels, a bright spark in his eyes, “I have just the idea but you might need to change to a more sensible pair of shoes though.”

Elain raises one piqued brow in response. 

***

“Really?” 

Lucien ignores the skepticism in her voice as he continues to tap into his phone, registering and renting the bicycles before them. Elain bounces from one ball of her foot to another. After a quick thought, she takes out a plain hair tie from her small bag and pulls her luscious golden brown hair back into a high ponytail. 

She glances around. Shutters have been pulled and locked down at the surrounding stores, a little presence of a nightlife beyond the bustle of the rooftop bar they were just at. But even at this late hour, the promenade by the river that snakes through the central district of Adriata is still sparsely populated, mostly by couples strolling with their fingers interlaced, the air filled with soft whispers and shoulder bumps.

A click of his phone later, her unlikely companion for the evening slides the slim device into his pocket. 

“Done!” He announces with a flourish, a welcoming smile graces handsome features and sends the butterflies in her stomach into a fluttering flurry. “Well, my lady? Your personal bicycle tour awaits.” 

She takes the bicycle being rolled towards her, swinging a graceful leg over it, sending him a bright smile. “Lead on, good sir.”

Lucien sets them off at an easy pace. Elain follows easily, sending much needed blood circulation through her alcohol plied body, which has also seen little but short walks from her hotel room and the conference halls for the past week. The cool breeze of the city whips about her face playfully. 

They take a sharp take away from the glittering river and begin meandering about the quiet roads slicing through tall office buildings. Elain is about to open her mouth to send a teasing remark to her tour guide about the tour lacking in scenery when said guide turns back to her with a wink, as if he knew exactly what she was about to say. 

She pumps more energy into her legs so that they’re cycling side by side instead. “So do you often give flirtatious bike tours to women you’ve just met?”

Hopelessly fishing, maybe, but here she is.

“But we are not strangers, are we?” He returns evenly, “we have been conversing for months. What makes you think I haven’t been thinking about this for ages?”

Elain isn’t able to stop the flush rising up her chest. She had found the man insanely attractive from the moment he turned on his video setting on the project kickoff call, of course. A silent admiration that made the long hours a tad easier to bear. But to think that he might have thought the same of her? Something within her preens like a well-groomed cat.

“My, my,” she tuts, “and to think I’ve thought you so professional the past few months.” Her lips curve in a good-natured tease at the slight crease in his brows, the indignation forming, and continues quickly in a quiet confession, “me too.” 

She snaps her head abruptly back to the front of the road, not wanting to catch his reaction. Not yet. 

There is a huff of laughter next to her before he pulls up in front of her once more, leading the way. It isn’t long before a long length of dense trees come into sight. Crossing the dense layer of greenery opens up to a huge open space roaring with life - a night market, of sorts.

They return the urban sharing bikes, turning them back into the designated lots. There are a series of clicks as the bicycles engage its locking mechanism. Elain takes the elbow offered chivalrously to her, looping her arm with the redhead. 

The market is filled with Adriata locals, full of chatter in its native language. There are a variety of stalls that formed two layers of the circular space - the inner row that comprises mostly of stalls selling food and beverages and the outer rows that comprises a mix of fun carnival games and small rides, even a petite ferris wheel that has somehow remain hidden behind its forested guards, invisible to the outside eye.

Their first stop is a fried street snack - a well-spiced battered collection of mushrooms and seafood. The perfect oily balance to the alcoholic drinks they had. Lucien smiles, too entirely pleased with himself, as Elain gushes at the perfect crispy texture of the exterior and soft insides, wonderfully complemented by the tangy dipping sauce. They pair it with a sweet spiced honey drink that washes it down perfectly.

They walk along the chain of typical carnival games. She stops them in their tracks by grabbing tightly on to Lucien’s elbow, gasping at a familiar fox plushie with synthetic bright orange fur.

“Is that a limited edition plushie of the fox character from the Suriel show?” She asks, more to herself than her companion. 

“Indeed, it is,” answers the jovial game master in a thick accent, pleased at the recognition, “all yours if you can hit all the targets.”

Elain turns to Lucien, her eyes bright and sparkling. “It will double our chances if we both try, yeah?”

An embarrassingly long time later, they continued strolling along with the fox toy tucked snugly between the crooks of her elbow and an all too pleased look on her face. Next to her, her companion sneaks fond affectionate looks at her. 

They have almost completed their round of the market, pausing at what is likely their last stop of the evening - the Ferris wheel. It is clunky and almost pathetically small, utterly inadequate in showcasing any views the proud city boasts. Yet, there was something about its old school charm that draws you in. 

Another exchange of coins later and the pair are stepping into the small booth. They seat themselves opposite one another, their knees touching in its limited space. 

“If you’ve enjoyed yourself on the Vanserra Tours today. It will really help us if you could leave us a 5-star review on Yelp.” Lucien quips, breaking the silence. 

Elain giggles, relishing in the lightness in her chest, a feeling she hasn’t felt in the longest time. She grabs his hands and slips both hands into large palms, callous blisters on the flipped side of his knuckles a contrast against her soft skin. 

“Thank you,” she says softly into the small enclosure, “I’ve had a great time today.” 

Her gaze crawls up the length of his graceful body, the subtle signs of well-defined muscles underneath the formal shirt to the breathtaking sharp contours of his face and striking russet eyes, looking back at her as if she is something so unbearably precious. Letting go of the last semblance of nerves, she surges forward to slot her lips against his. 

A low groan fills the small booth and the noise of the machinery and outside world disappears. 

Strong arms circle around her and pull her onto his lap. She loops her own arms around his neck as they deepen the kiss, her lips parting at the first swipe of tongue. 

He tastes of a cool autumn night, warm spices mixed with a heady dose of sweet cinnamon. Sucking, nipping and the press of tongue on tongue. Sharp tugs on silky tresses and wandering hands trailing a blaze up and down her all too warm body. It is all consuming and all Elain wants is more. More more more. She presses into the delicious warmth of his body, moulding soft curves into hard planes.

A loud throat clearing pulls them apart. They turn to look at the unimpressed lady minding the ride. 

“This is a family ride.” She says flatly, dark eyes are thick with judgement. 

They leave with sheepish apologies but completely unapologetic grins, their fingers interlaced tightly, bodies flushed into each other, the fox still tucked tightly in her other arm. All through the journey in the back of the car hire and the elevator ride up to her hotel room. Until the room door snips shut and they fall gracelessly into the large bed.

***

Elain is having a good dream. 

She can’t remember what it was about but there is a thrum of content that has her heart humming and whistling. She lets out a happy sigh and buries her face deeper into her pillow. 

A sudden rude blare of an alarm tears her out of her reverie. 

Chocolate brown eyes open to a hazy vision. She blinks blearily, her brain needing a few more moments to register the foreign environment. The bed beneath her moves and groans, and the memories of the night before flood her sleep addled brain.

With her head still resting on the soft pillow, she turns to look at Lucien. His eyes are still closed as his hand grasps wildly to search for his phone, which from the ringtone, is somewhere within the pile of clothes strewn across the floor. Elain feels her lips curving upwards in its own accord at the futility of the man’s action. 

She chimes lyrically, “It’s not there.”

Russet eyes snap open, its gaze focusing sharply on her before the next buzz of his alarm pulls him aware. Lucien rolls out of bed, giving Elain another glimpse of firm butt cheeks as he sleepily saunters his way over to fish his phone out of the long pants and turns off the alarm. He sighs deeply, pushing long legs into the apparel. 

“I have a morning flight out,” he informs, his voice coated with regret. 

Her heart stutters, a weight dropping heavily in her stomach. “Already?” 

She sits up, unabashedly letting the covers slip off and bare her chest to him. Lucien heads over, his hands rest on hers, pinning her to the soft mattress. He drops a kiss on her forehead, whispering, “Don’t move. I want to commit this sight to my memory.” 

He steps back, and even though her hands are now free, Elain doesn’t move. 

“You have my number.” She reminds him with a sad smile. 

He agrees, “I do.”

It’s an unspoken promise that lifts her heart just slightly. With a final wink from the male, Elain watches silently as Lucien turns around and exits the room. 

***

Six Months Later

“Let’s go, already,” Vassa complains, the Scythian native is sprawled on the small guest couch in Elain’s office, “I’m hungry.” 

“In a minute.” Elain’s fingers fly across the keyboard, “Just need to send out one last email.”  

Elain’s colleague and close friend groans, her head falling back on the uncomfortable synthetic leather surface. Mere seconds later, a rectangular light shines on her face as she begins typing on her phone. 

Elain turns back to her screen, humming, “Almost done.”

A couple minutes of furious clicks later, she slams her index finger down on the “Enter” button. “Sent! Let’s go.” 

“Finally!” The redhead cries out exasperatedly, “Let’s go.” 

Elain raises her brows but says nothing as she lets her friend loop their elbows together and practically pull her to the elevator. 

All thoughts eddy from her mind when the lift doors slide open, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of another redhead waiting on the other side. 

“How?”

Lucien slips his hands out of his pocket, his eyes bright and warm, “I’m on a three year attachment as a Springton representative for the regional grid project.”

Elain spins to round on Vassa. Her close friend and director of the Human Resource division, “You knew!” 

“Of course I did.” She answers smoothly, giving Elain a slight push out of the doors. “Now, if you don’t mind. I have lunch plans.” She gives the both of them a cheeky wink, “Enjoy your reunion!”

Elain turns back to Lucien, taking a small step forward. Her head angles slightly when she notices the slight glimmer of nerves in those breathtaking eyes. She inhales deeply before asking lightly, “Is this why you haven’t replied my text from this morning?”

A tension visibly loosens from his shoulders as his face crinkles in amusement. He steps forward to close the gap between them, raising his hands to gently cup her cheeks. He whispers, “Surprise.” 

There is nothing else left for Elain to do but to rise to the ball of her feet and lightly brush her lips against his. 

“Welcome to Velaris.” 

End

#elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #SJMRomanceWeek2024 #acotar #elucien fic