bringnewjokes: (Purple eye.)
The first thing she noticed when she woke up was that she was warm; the second was that she was hungry.

Hungry for her children, rather. Or were they her siblings? Perhaps a combination of both. Anyway, they loved her, and she could feel it, while their vines wrapped around her legs, as if they were holding her close. She could feel their heartbeat. They were everyone she had ever known. They were her family, her children, her siblings, her parents.

They wrapped their way into her hair and around her waist and arms, crossing across her neck to form patterns across her skin. They didn't like her clothes. Why should they? They weren't blissfully green.

You are our female, said the children. You are our mother/sister.

The transition was not hard, and the chlorophil was pumping through her veins like blood by the time she rose to face the males.

"Ahh, yes, the female. Every garden needs a caretaker!"

She informed them of their purpose; the troublesome one -- Danny? -- escaped, as was expected. She knew that he would. He runs to the only place he deems safe, the place where nothing grows, but there is only death, the place of sickness, the place of ghosts.

But she followed him, and she stood before the doorway, and he couldn't get through unless he hurts her. Her vines wrapped around the levers of the laboratory.

"Hello, Danny," Sam-an-tha purred, and she could the flowers in the room begin to open up and blossom. "Where are you going?"
bringnewjokes: (Unique.)
A week before Danny had come back (he was back, he was alive), Sam had gotten a letter.

Well, sort of. It had been in 202. Tacked to a map. The map of Earth. Right where her name was. She'd gone in to find something to eat and then had almost dropped the canned tomatoes, because there had been a worn piece of paper, and it had had her name on it.

And now he was back. And he was exhausted and sad and so broken that she could barely stand it, because that wasn't the Danny she knew. The Danny she knew could make lame jokes about horrible things like death and still face it and come back all the better. The Danny she knew smiled and ate like a teenage boy and thought like a teenage boy. Now he was different, and so sad.

For the fifty millionth time, she opened the worn and torn piece of paper on the roof, beginning to read, tracing the letters absently.

Sam... )

It hurt.

It hurt and she needed to talk to him and she knew it.

She walked slowly into their room with the paper tucked carefully away. "Danny?"
bringnewjokes: (O rly? Looking up.)
Sam woke up about three hours after she and Danny had fallen asleep (she'd made sure to check her watch this time). Blinking her eyelids up slowly, a fond smile crossed her face as she perceived Danny... out like a light, fingers sprawled protectively over her lower back.

"Can't stop being a hero even for one second," she murmured, and lightly kissed his cheek, smoothing back one or two black, thick strands of hair from his face. "Dork."

She didn't want to move -- and didn't, for a few minutes, just relaxing and enjoying feeling cozy and warm and close -- but eventually her bladder won out, and she gently slipped out and away from him, mourning the loss of warmth.

Yawning sleepily, she made her way out of the bathroom a few minutes later, fully intending to crawl back into bed, when she did a double take and peered back inside. Because there was a bathtub and shower there that looked big enough to rival her own. Considering Sam's house mansion, this was saying something.

A bath would be... really, really nice... She bit her lip.

She already knew where the towels were after cleaning up after Danny's drinking episode last time. She peered into the cupboard and had a nice jaw dropping moment. "No way!" No way was that a bottle of lavender bubble bath. Just... no way.

She was totally giving the Bar all the money she had left. Totally.

She turned on the water and was pleased to see it was sparkling and adjusted the temperature, still rubbing sleep out of her eyes. After all the stress of the last few weeks (months, years), she'd barely been able to get enough sleep, let alone have time for other relaxation techniques. Sam loved bubble baths. Sam loved being able to relax and not be afraid to take longer than a five minute shower (the way things were going, she was not risking a ghost flying through her shower wall, she just wasn't).

Once the tub was filled with amazingly huge and fluffy purple bubbles, she sank in and let out a rare completely content sigh, submerging enough to soak her hair and rub bubbles out of her eyes. Life was great.
bringnewjokes: (headdesk)
Like most teenagers during the summer, Sam, Danny and Tucker enjoyed going to the beach.

To a lesser extent, so did Jazz, who had agreed to drive them there and "supervise"; of course, that was quickly forgotten with the momentary cautions of Don't wander off! and NO GHOST FIGHTING!, and then Jazz was off to the marine biology museum with her notebook and trusty pink pen.

So they were left by themselves at the beach house to change. Sweet.

Except for the minute that Sam opened her backpack she could have sworn that tiny hearts erupted from it, along with a perfume so sickeningly sweet that she could have hurled.

"I. Am. Not. WEARING. THIS."

And so she grabbed her best friends' wrists, after closing her backpack ("Augh! The smell! How will I get it out?") and dragged them to the nearby swim shop. Then she deposited them on the benches while she went to go find something in something a little more dark.
bringnewjokes: (Default)
Sam woke up hazily around when her watch said two. She didn't know whether time followed very well here, but she knew that they'd fallen back asleep sometime around eight.

"Hey," she murmured into her best friend's ear, and rubbed at her eyes some more. "Wake up."
bringnewjokes: (i'm here)
Sam wasn't quite sure what was going on.

In the past few hours, she had witnessed a man with bright orange hair who had talked about ghosts breaking through mountains, and volunteered to help him.

In the past few hours, she had also witnessed her best friend get himself so intoxicated that he couldn't pick himself off the floor without help.

Danny was staggering an awful lot.

"Whoa," she said, a bit loudly, and grabbed onto his hand firmly, walking in the direction she'd been given toward their official room. "I am not getting yelled at by Jazz for you knocking yourself out by walking into a wall."
bringnewjokes: (why can't you see?)
Dear Journal,

Danny's gone, and we still can't find him. Tucker, Jazz, and I have been covering for him--saying he's been sleeping over me and Tucker's houses, but even as clueless as Danny's parents are, they're going figure out something's up soon enough, especially if Mr. Lancer calls his house if he misses more school. Maybe he's at that bar he kept ranting about? Until I saw that weird, blonde wizard kid in the Armani I thought it might be in his head, and that he was just ranting about nothing again--because Danny rants a lot.

The alternative is too terrifying to imagine.

Anyway, I have to go now. It's late and Tucker and I are on ghost-hunting duty. Me, Tucker, and Jazz have been on rotations. Without Danny here, who else can stop them? I just hope we don't run into a ghost like Skulker or Technus while he's gone. We'd be in more trouble than Dash Baxter if he were picked to be on Jeopardy.

I'm so worried about him.

-Sam

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bringnewjokes: (Default)
Samantha "Sam" Manson

October 2006

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