#AND the Occasional diddles. and I Love Her for it. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

journal-of-an-outlaw · 5 years ago

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Price to be Paid

AN: This was my favorite chapter to write so far! So many of the ideas I’ve been sitting on and just waiting. And I’m so glad we’ve all agreed to just say this song was written in the late 1800′s lol.

Chapter 5

The long day had taken its toll on you, but you were excited to relax and have a party with the gang. Abigail helped you find a new shirt and took your blood covered one so you didn’t have to think about it. She was a blessing through all of this, even if she was preoccupied with John and Jack most of the time.

Although you had just washed in the lake on the way back to camp, your skin itched with the thoughts of what you had done. One of the wash barrels was close to your tent and you spent a few minutes washing and rewashing your hands and arms, desperate to rid yourself of whatever was making your skin crawl.

“Washing like that don’t help much. I’m afraid those stains on your skin can’t just go away.” Arthur grabbed your arm, red from the pressure of the cloth you were dragging over and over. You sighed and released it, watching it slip under the surface of the water.

“He was an awful man. I know I couldn't have just walked away without him killing me, but how do you justify taking away a life?”

Arthur nodded and continued to move you away from the barrel. “None of us are especially good here, but we try. Don’t kill nobody who don’t deserve it. Sounds to me like he got what he deserved. Was that your first -” but he stopped talking as Jack ran up.

“Uncle Arthur! Mama said Hosea needs help moving something into camp. Big boxes!” He stretched his arms up to show the two of you just how big the boxes were. You laughed, and Arthur turned before taking Jack’s outstretched hand.

“You’ll be okay then?”

“Yes, Arthur. Thank you.” You watched the two of them walked off and Jack broke into a run. Hosea was moving boxes of liquor for the party and the kid was right, they were big. Whiskey, beer, and various other liquors were being spread over the camp so no one had to walk very far for a drink.

Dutch shouted appreciatively in the distance and ordered where everything should go. Ms. Grimshaw had a tent all set up for Sean with his things, and he emerged a new man after changing out of his old clothes.

Someone handed him a beer, and he walked over towards the ledge to face the small crowd.

“Oh, no speeches, please!” Karen shouted at Sean. He didn’t seem to mind the friendly banter and continued anyways.

“Uncle Sean is back! And don’t you worry, Ms. Grimshaw, I’ll keep them girls in line. If I have to whip em, I will!” He stopped to take a big pull from his bottle while the women in camp shouted back. “I’d like to see you try!” “Will you drop already?” “Put him down! Somebody needs to.”

After wiping his mouth, he continued, “And don’t you worry Mr. Pearson you drunk old shit bag, it’ll be nothing but the finest game in the pot, now that Dead Eye Macguire is here! I love you bastards, have fun. Have loads of fun!”

Sean stumbled forward and into the group, the party in full swing. Someone at the campfire started singing and playing guitar, and you walked over to find Javier plucking away. You didn’t know the one he was playing, but it was an upbeat tune that many people joined him for. After listening to the words for a moment, you realized just how lewd the words were.

“In Louisville I met a maid, mark well what I do say,

And she was mistress of her trade, it was diddle-diddle-diddle all day!

I put my hand upon her toe, mark well what I do say,

She says ‘young man you’re rather low’, for a diddle-diddle-diddle all day!

I put my finger on her knee, mark well what I do say,

She says, ‘young man you’re rather free’, for a diddle-diddle-diddle all day!”

The songs continued on, and as the drink flowed freely people slurred and got louder. It was a lot of fun, and you knocked back the last sip of your gin before heading to grab another bottle.

Dutch called out to you, “Miss Moore! You said you could sing, why don’t you lead the next one.”

Your heart jumped to your throat. Javier motioned you over and asked which songs you knew.

“Umm...how about The Mountain Shine? No, alright then. The Boy Livin’ Down Under? From This Valley? Perfect!”

Javier scooted over on the log so you could sit with him. The guitar started up hard and fast, and you came in with the first verse.

“Oh the desert dreams of a river,

That will run down to the sea.

Like my heart longs for an ocean,

To will wash down over me.

Oh, won’t you take me from this valley,

To that mountain high above?

Oh I will pray, pray, pray, until I see your smiling face,

Oh I will pray, pray, pray, to the one I love.”

Javier picked up the second verse with a rich voice that fit well with yours.

“Oh the outcast dreams of acceptance,

Just to find pure love’s embrace.

Like an orphan longs for its mother,

May you hold me in your grace.

Oh won’t you take me from this valley,

To that mountain high above?

Oh I will pray, pray, pray, till I see your smiling face,

I will pray, pray, pray, to the one I love!”

People around the fire were whistling and dancing along, some even joining in to sing. The song always reminded you of home and the dance hall downtown that opened its doors after the fishing boats returned from the last big sail of the year. The big skirts twirled and swished about in the most marvelous way.

“Oh, the caged bird dreams of a strong wind,

That will flow ‘neath her wings.

Like a voice longs for a melody.

Oh, Jesus carry me.

Won’t you take me from this valley

To that mountain high above?

I will pray, pray, pray,

Until I see your smiling face.

I will pray, pray, pray,

To the one I love!”

The song concluded after you and Javier timed the last verse together, trying to harmonize and failing but laughing along anyways.

“Thank you, Javier and YN! What an excellent tune to get folks on their feet and dancing.”

You stood up and walked over to the group around the alcohol. Whiskey still made your stomach turn and you couldn't stand the stuff, so you rummaged around for the gin bottle you had eyed earlier. The nerves from performing for a real crowd were still shaking out and you knocked over a bottle while trying to read the label.

“Dammit,” you muttered under your breath. Karen stumbled over looking as happy as a clam. Rumor was her and Sean were lovers not too long ago so she must be excited to have him back safe at camp. “YN! Hand me that one, will ya?” she motioned in the general direction of the bottles so you handed her the half empty one and hoped she didn’t notice. She did not, and put it high in the air to dance around with. Sean called her back to the table and she sat in his lap, ignorant to everyone else around them.

John walked into camp and clapped Sean on the back. The two laughed and exchanged a few words, then Arthur joined John to walk over for drinks.

“Ms. Moore! I don’t believe we’ve actually met. Abigail said the two of you met back in Blackwater and she talks enough that I feel like you and I are old friends. How are you holding up in camp?” John was younger than you thought, and it made you question how old Abigail was too. His dark hair was long and shaggy. The cuts on his face seemed to be healing although he would always have a wicked scar from his encounter with the wolves.

“Abigail is wonderful! Nice to see you up, Mr. Marston. I’ve been doing just fine. I think,” He had a kind smile and met your gaze when you shook hands. You grabbed two bottles and gave one to him and the other to Arthur.

“Hard to make friends when you keep getting hurt, Marston! Although probably best to keep that ugly face in the tent so you don’t go scaring people.” Arthur laughed heartily at his own joke, then took a pull from the full bottle. He must have taken Sean very seriously when he said to have fun from the looks of his flushed face. “You should see this one hunt, makes it look easy to use a bow.”

“A bow? Do you hunt much with Charles?”

“Just occasionally. But he’s much better than I’ll ever be.”

The three of you drank and chatted for a few moments, but were interrupted by Mary-Beth coming to grab Arthur’s hand.

“Arthur! Come dance with me. Dutch is playing that awful record player but I love the song.” He obliged and followed her over, leaving John and you alone.

John chuckled while watching the crowd. “That girl is the sweetest, silliest one here. Tilly and Karen can be nasty if they need to, but Mary-Beth don’t have it in her. Wants to be a writer some day.”

Mary-Beth was smiling up at Arthur as they spun around. “They with each other then?”

“Who, Arthur and Mary-Beth? God no! She’s a little sister to him, like that with everyone here.” You told the voice inside your head to be quiet but the gin made it impossible to listen.

“He, uh, sweet on anyone else then?”

John gave you a puzzled look for a few moments, then something clicked. “Nah, not anyone here. Don’t think he’s had them ideas for a long time.” He looked around the camp as the song ended. “Abigail! Get over here, woman. I’m gonna dance with you.” Abigail pretended she didn’t care but the small smile and blush told you she was thrilled. Mary-Beth had left to go back to the fire, and John called out, “Arthur why don’t you dance with that nice girl? She’s hiding back by the drink.”

Arthur looked your way and motioned for you to come. You sheepishly walked over, insistent that he didn’t have to keep dancing if he didn’t want to. He ignored your protests and held up his left hand, waiting for your own.

You stepped forward and placed your right palm in his and your left hand on his shoulder. He stood a good head above you, even in your heeled boots.

“Miss Moore, I can’t dance with you if you stand that far back now. Promise I won’t bite.”

After you stepped closer he put his hand around your waist and the two of you began to twirl around. Nearby Dutch and Molly had joined the group, and you swore this was one of the first times you had seen her smile and laugh.

“If you insist I call you Arthur instead of Mr. Morgan, then you know I’ll say the same. Call me YN.”

He chuckled and agreed, moving you over by Abigail and John. The two of them were laughing as John tried to keep up with Abigail’s feet but kept stepping on her toes. He started to make a game of it and chased her feet around with his.

“John! Oh you silly man. Stop it now! Well, don’t the two of you make quite a sight,” she looked over at you and Arthur. You shook your head, “He’s just being nice and putting up with me while I try to dance a bit better than John.’

Jack ran over and wanted to dance with his parents. He startled you all and you tripped forward, but Arthur caught you. “Thank you, Mr. Morgan.”

“How many times I gotta tell you, call me Arthur.” Without thinking he tucked the hair that had fallen free back behind your ear, lingering with his fingers in your hair. A flush spread across his cheeks as he dropped his hand to your shoulder and played off the intimate moment.

“You okay there, Mr. Morgan?” you asked. He sighed playfully, “I guess that won’t change even if I ask a hundred times.”

The song eventually ended, and the two of you broke apart. Arthur tipped his hat in thanks and headed back over to the group at the campfire and poking fun at Karen and Sean who thought they were flirting secretly.

“Now that is something I ain’t seen in a long time, Arthur Morgan, flustered and blushin’,” John said quietly as Abigail left to find Jack.

“Mr. Marston, it was nothing I promise. Just a harmless old dance.”

A burst of laughter ripped from him. “I’ve heard that before! And two weeks later, she’s telling me I’m gonna be a father!”

Much later in the night everyone gathered around the campfire swapping gunslinger stories. Dutch’s strange opera music still floats on the warm night air around you, but him and Molly haven’t been seen in a few hours and some other members of the camp had begun to drift off to bed. Whether that was face down in the dirt or their actual bedrolls depended on who you asked.

“I swear, it was the biggest bear I’d ever seen!” Sean elaborately told how he escaped some manner of beast, and it’s changed from killer wolves to bears and back again a few times in the same sentence.

“Must have been, yay high. Chasin me down the road. My heart nearly burst from my chest! But ol’ Dead Eye Maguire never runs from fear! So I hopped off my horse and tried to shoot him up. O’ course he was right behind me so it bowled me over. Tumblin’ down, over and over, until I finally landed on my feet like a cat, and pumped him full of shells from my trusty shotgun!” Sean jumped on to the table to demonstrate how he landed and swayed around until Pearson grabbed him by the collar.

“Not a word of that is true and you know it!” No one seemed to care as they were all laughing away at Sean.

“Darlin, you ever held a shotgun before?” He questioned Karen who had kept up with Sean in terms of drinks through the evening. He leaned over her shoulder and prepared to teach her how it was done.

The look she gave him was pure murder. “‘Course I handled a shotgun before! You think I don’t know how to shoot it? Shit, I’ve jerked enough dumb men around I reckon I can cock it one handed.”

Beer somehow shot out of both your nose and mouth simultaneously as the entire group erupted with laughter. Karen stood up and demonstrated how this could be done and it got funnier each time she pretended to shoot. Finally Sean tackled her to the ground and they recreated the bear/wolf fight with Sean as the attacker. They both stumbled around so hard no one could move more than a few feet.

You tipped your bottle up and drained the last few drops and took that as your sign to turn in for the night. The group was still rolling with laughter but you knew you would regret the gin in the morning if you stayed up much later. You waved and smiled to the group as you left to find your tent. The cot was just as uncomfortable as you remembered. After debating with yourself, you drunkenly decided to camp out on the ground near the overlook and a tree. It wasn’t comfortable, but the fresh air felt good on your skin. Slowly sleep overtook you, and you somehow dreamed peacefully of dancing bears that sounded like Dutch telling you to point your feet when you ran through a field.

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phantomphangphucker · 5 years ago

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A Three String Heart-Shaped Harp - Story 1: My Heart’s In A Pocket Watch

Collection Summary: Danny’s a boy with a half-beating heart, and he’s got ghosts haunting it.

Story Summary: Snow White and his ruby red wine

Danny’s staring at a couple of specks of blood on his shoes as he goes to open the door. ‘Nice going Fenton, this pair was already red enough’, jerking out of his thoughts as an all too familiar hand ruffles up his hair.

Snapping his head up with a jerk, “Clo-!”, cutting himself off with a, definitely not subtle, cough, “uh, Horace, uh, what’s up”. Batting away the playful hand, “is my hair a dog to you?!”. Horace simply grins softly and gives three tiny nods; before stepping around Danny, to enter the living room.

Danny huffs at them indignantly before going wide-eyed and gaping, realising that not only are his parents at home but that this lovable little shit knew that. Speaking sarcastically, “of course your timing is absolutely perfect, like always”. Groaning as Jazz, sticking her head over the hallway railing, snaps at him, “I would think you, of all people, wouldn’t be rude. Especially as it’s clear you know this unexpected guest”.

Horace chuckles as they speak up for the first time, while Danny blushes furiously, “oh but of course, we’ve ghosted over enough time to have a level of intimacy”.

Jazz squints at the blonde but doesn’t get to dwell on it as Maddie sticks her head out of the kitchen, “oh! Hello? Danny, who’s this?”. Eyeing her son curiously as she goes to shake the visitor's hand, “I don’t believe we’ve met before”.

Danny groans again, mentally grumbling ‘well I guess like everything else in my life, I’m doing this without a damn plan. Greeeeaaaat’. Rubbing his neck and looking anywhere but his mom, “uh, mom, this is Horace. They’re, uh, my other”, rolling his hand exaggeratedly, “partner, lover, romantic interest, cuddle buddy...whatever you wanna call it”. Maddie raises an eyebrow and gives Horace a visual once over, placing her hands on her hips to make it clear she’s going to play protective mother hen. Horace, maintaining their soft smile, sticks their hand out and ruffles Danny’s hair further in response; utterly unfazed. Even maintaining their composure when Jack, summoned by the universal fatherly duty to know all of his children’s love interests, practically speed walks to be directly in front of the pair. Danny only blushes furiously after glancing at his parents, even if he’s mentally cheering, ‘well, there’s no Fenton Creep Stick in sight’.

Horace chuckles at the large man’s antics, before flicking their, nearly closed, eyes to Danny, “oh I think mate is far more suiting, Daniel”, Horace speaks softly with a faint smile, “much more... timeless”.

Maddie smirks slightly and pushes Jack back a bit, nodding at Horace faintly, “well, you seem well spoken”. Jack sighs and nods, “nothing like that Johnny rascal”, glancing at Jazz as she groans before continuing, “who will NOT be dating any Fenton”.

Neither Danny nor Horace even bother to stifle their light chuckling, while Jazz looks to be heading towards the kitchen. Stopping short to spin back towards the pair, pointing her finger in a show of aggressive protectiveness, “you best treat my little brother like a dream come true. He may not look it, but he’s the best soul there is”.

“Jaaaaaaazzz”, Danny tilts his head back, utterly embarrassed. While Horace nods their head at her, “if anyone recognises timeless purity and knows a star when they see one, it’s me, Jasmine”.

Jazz clearly finds that statement weird but is overshadowed by Jack straight up beaming, “oh! Stars! You know Danny-boy loves those twinkling things! Always wanted to be a little astronaut!”.

Danny is currently endlessly thankful for Horace’s insanely high level of patience. Watching them side-eyed, as they close their eyes; seemingly smiling with their eyes as well as their mouth. Though it’s a soft, subtle smile; easily missable if you don’t know it, and Danny knew it well. ‘How is their smile always so freaking cute. It feels like a blanket made of fuzzy glowing stars...and damnit, mom totally noticed me stargazing’, pulling out of his thoughts and pulling his eyes away, catching both Horace’s slight smirk and Maddie’s knowing smile.

Jack, ever unobservant, yammers on about food, “Mads here made fudge Fiddle Diddles!...oh and spaghetti, but mostly fudge!”, tapping his chin, “or I guess things with fudge”. Shrugging before pointing over his shoulder into the kitchen. Maddie rolls her eyes and nods, watching him scurry off with a fond sigh.

Turning back to the pair, “there really is spaghetti, and you certainly must stay”. Giving Danny a pointed look before looking at Horace sternly, “I won’t have my baby boy dating someone I know nothing of”. Horace chuckles lightly, “but of course, I wouldn’t want to be an unknowable ghost; in that sense”, speaking quietly enough so only Danny could really hear them, “that’s precisely the reason I’m here, some secrets aren’t meant to be kept; and others just shouldn’t be”, while Danny just wonders how the heck they manage to talk without moving their lips ‘they’d make one hell of a ventriloquist’. But he does still look rather sheepish at their words, he’s probably a little too used to keeping secrets; especially keeping important things a secret. And this, this was definitely one of those important things.

Maddie nods curtly, while she feels this Horace person is genuine and, so far, decent enough; she still watches to make sure both of them follow her into the kitchen. Though she can’t help but be curious as to what kind of hair care routine Horace has, to achieve such an almost ridiculously fluffy hairstyle.

Danny catches Horace’s glance and knowing smirk, flicking his eyes over to the new device his dad’s working on. Groaning, ‘oh great, now what’s that going to do? Something tells me that’s the real reason they’re here, here today specifically’. Muttering at Horace as they sit down, Horace beside him, his dad on one end with Jazz on the other, his mom directly across from the pair. “You're a little shit, you know that?”, Horace doesn’t even glance at him, while Danny mutters into his hand before grabbing his fork, “an infuriatingly cute one”.

Danny’s honestly impressed his dad actually stops fiddling to eat, though there’s something with fudge in it for desert; so it isn’t that surprising. Looking Horace over, having not really gotten the chance after his earlier mild panic and blatant embarrassment. Noting the plain brown cargo pants, purple pinstriped dress shirt, and black crushed velvet vest; accented by a bronze steampunk watch necklace. “I’ve never seen you in something so, dare I say, basic?”, Jazz gives Danny an incredulous glare, but redirects that look to Horace as they speak. Sounding almost smug, “well, I will have you know, I am capable of some level of modesty”, at Danny’s snort they concede, “occasionally”, Danny only snorts louder, ‘modest hardly exists in their wardrobe and they know it'. Horace, sighing fondly, “rarely”. Danny chuckles with a smirk, “that’s more like it”.

Jazz puts her fork down at this, raising her eyebrow questioningly at Horace, “you know, most people dress up, not down, for first impressions. And this-”, gesturing at Horace’s outfit, “-hardly qualifies as dressing down”. Maddie nods in agreement, while Jack simply shrugs, “so long as he’s-”

“They’re”, Horace doesn’t miss a beat in interrupting him, making Jazz giggle. While Jack just keeps talking, “wearing clothing I’m good. Hey! Maybe he-”

“They”, Horace interrupts again. While Danny’s once again thanking how patient Horace is, Jazz and Maddie both wince a little; futilely hoping Jack gets the message. The fact that he doesn’t even seem to notice either correction as he keeps speaking doesn’t give them hope though, “-usually wears suits! Like Vladdie!”.

Danny can’t help but smirk, catching Jazz’s shock over Horace chuckling; clearly not offended in the slightest, “never worn one, of all the things I’ve done; wearing a suit is not one of them”, smilingly fondly, “I prefer robes and cloaks, maybe dabble in the occasional frock coat or corset”.

Danny points at them with a shit-eating grin, “but never capes”. Danny knows Horace’s shudder was fully intentional and done to amuse him. ‘At least my parents won’t be fazed by odd fashion, considering their daily “fashion” choices’

Jazz can’t help but chuckle, Danny clearly hearing her mutter, “I really shouldn’t be surprised Danny’s tastes have aimed for someone with some, unusual, qualities”. Danny coughs and glares at her, Jazz sighs, “strange as they may be, I’d say they’re good for you”.

Danny only gets a second to blush as he stutters, “uh, t-thanks?”. While Jack grins wide, practically talking over Danny, “odd’s the way of every Fenton! Shows character!”, looking over Horace as they flawlessly twirl their fork full of noddles and glides it into their mouth without losing so much as a drop of sauce, “good character”.

Maddie smiles at Jack and gives Danny a small nod, Danny’s flat out elated ‘holy shit, they’re usually really off-putting or confusing to other people. But I guess they haven’t exactly gone off on any tangents...yet’.

Horace nods their head towards Jazz, “my idea of dressing up is often others idea of overwhelming or startling. That’s hardly my intent here, quite the opposite actually”, even Maddie can pick up on the mischievous twinkle in Horace’s eyes, “I’m sure they’ll be quite enough of that, in time”.

‘Oh great, what game is that cheeky bastard playing?’, pushing them playfully, “mysterious as ever, Pocket Watch”. Horace leans over, whispering into Danny’s ear; resulting in two snickering girls and a widely grinning Jack. “Pet names already, little MoonFlower? As I always say, you should worry less; even if to protect is to worry. Though my protection only has eyes for my Raven Boy”, Danny rolls his eyes, failing to hide a blush. Muttering, “you watch over so much more”.

“Hmmm, protective protection and watchful protecting are not necessarily in the same vein”, Horace ruffles Danny’s hair before returning to their food.

With a cough, Jazz returns the other onlookers attention to their own food; even Jack has the awareness to feel slightly invasive. Though he takes it as a good sign, that this Horace can make his son blush so easily; clearly he, they, knows Danny’s really well.

“Anyways...”, Jazz breaks the unusual silence, unusual only because the Fenton household was rarely quiet. Though she has a suspicion Horace is quite comfortable with silence, but with how rarely Danny shuts up (when he was comfortable anyways), she wonders how that works out. Picking back up and leaning towards Horace, “so you know us Fenton’s are a crazy bunch, right? Not much startles us”. Maddie smiles softly, looking at Jack, “that’s true, Jack dear, you might not even notice if they came in wearing a clown suit”. Jack shrugs, accepting the lighthearted teasing.

Horace and Danny glance at each other, both sharing feelings of mischief and trickery. Danny mentally laughing, ‘they still can’t find the ghost under the same roof’.

Horace places both theirs and Danny’s plates in the sink, talking with their back to everyone, “yes, well, you may find I am one of few who only grows stranger with time”. Smiling slightly as they turn back around, with eyes clearly only for Danny, “and one of even fewer who understands that strange and broken are not one and the same”. Jazz is certain Horace is laughing more to themselves than anyone else, as they walk back around, head tilted back and still speaking, “ocean eyes always seem to find themselves on the faces of the impossible and the odd, don’t they?”. With that she watches them sit down and blinks, realising Horace’s eyes are literally the same colour as Danny’s. Muttering to herself that Horace really does get more unusual, the more she notices about them. Maddie’s found herself thinking the same, while Jack is just wondering why Danny seemed almost sad for a second.

Danny knows Horace means everything they say, pretty well always, especially towards him. But, ‘a freak is still a freak’, is a thought still nestled in the back of his head most days, however, ‘just the good kind...maybe’, is the thought often following it nowadays.

Horace nods curtly at the family as they sit back down, “besides even broken is beautiful, glance at any glass mosaic and try to argue otherwise”. Leaning their back against Danny’s shoulder, folding their hands on their chest, while Danny unconsciously leans his head into Horace’s shoulder; blatantly unused to having onlookers, and it’s far too late by the time he has the awareness to feel embarrassed.

Maddie covers up her snicker with a gloved hand before speaking, “those indeed are pretty, you’re quite the unbashful type; aren’t you? Well, maybe you can get Danny out of his shell some”, pushing Danny’s shoulder playfully, which he rolls his eyes at, before continuing, “Zone knows you could use it, you really are quite shy sweetie”.

Danny has to suppress a chuckle at that ‘one of the last things people would describe me, well Phantom but still, as is shy. I’m secretive, not shy, that would actually be horrible if I really was shy...or anti-social, damn that would suck’.

Horace closes their eyes softly as Jack gets back to fiddling with whatever, as Maddie’s putting away hers and his dishes. Horace, sighing, “I would say “shy” would be rather...incorrect. There are simply different ways one can be open to the world”. Maddie’s a bit startled as Horace looks at her with eyes that seem far too old and shadowed by something close to regret or pity, “if you are looking for someone to bring him into being an open book, I’m the last one you should be asking that of. Even the most far-reaching all-seeing eye could never read all my pages”, closing their eyes again, “only one has taken the time to try”.

Jazz finds that incredibly sad, even Jack frowns a bit, but it’s clear Danny’s used to Horace’s occasional lonesomeness.

As Danny pokes at Horace lightly, “those eyeballs can stuff it, Time Pants”.

“Hmpf, that one was weak, Moon Child”, everyone but Jazz chuckles as Danny mutters, “do I need to start calling you Ruby Fine Wine again”. Earning a smirk from Horace, only loud enough for Danny to hear, “sure thing, Snow White”. Danny snaps his head over, pulling himself over and in front of Horace; gaping all the while, conveying as much fake offence as he can. Horace snorts as they rest their arm on the chair backing for support, previously given by Danny’s back, “Snow Bunny”. Danny scrunches up his face, “Fun Sized”.

“Oh how that could change, Frosty”, the other three occupants aren’t sure if they should leave or not, since the two are clearly off in their own world. Jazz is flat out tempted to smack Danny as he smirks, “and let me guess, Batman, I gotta find the bat cave for the answer to that skill”.

Maddie officially thinks Horace has zero sense of shame, as even Jack coughs and blushes awkwardly from their response, “only after the timely return of my probe into your ice fortress, Iceman”. Jazz blinks and coughs, while Danny blushes furiously and rights himself back into his seat.

Danny looks around awkwardly, not about to meet anyone’s eyes, nearly inaudibly muttering, “...Puppet”. Horace nods with a frown, muttering in return, “Soldier”.

After some nearly crushingly unpleasant silence, their eyes meet again; and with a shit-eating grin, “Time Daddy”. Resulting in both girls choking slightly, while Jack’s too focused on finishing touches. Horace shrugs exaggeratedly, matching Danny’s grin, “well, time’s my bitch after all”. Jazz facepalms at this while Maddie gapes, “language!”, pointing at Danny, “and you! You knew they’d respond with that”.

Danny jerks, having actually forgotten about their audience. Rubbing his neck as he responds, “heh, guilty as charged”. Horace leans back into their chair, “yup, caught you dead handed”. Danny can’t help but snort while Jazz groans, muttering, “oh god, they’re too similar”.

Pointing at his sister and leaning towards her, “jokes, the universal road map out of any dead end”. Horace joins Danny in leaning towards Jazz, “and in a perfectly timely fashion, might I add. Any slower and it’d be Davey Jones’ locker for the pair of us”.

Jazz groans exaggeratedly and mockingly covers up her ears, before placing her head on the table, but Danny’s more caught up in how Horace is blatantly eyeballing his dad’s invention; clearly annoyed. Not getting to dwell on all the “why”s, as the machine starts beeping...and then talking.

“WARNING, GHOST DETECTED. ONE FOOT. WARNING, APOCALYPTIC ECTOPLASMIC THREAT WITHIN ONE HUNDRED FEET. IDENTITY UNKNOWN. POWERS UNKNOWN. POWER LEVEL TWENTY-EIGHT”.

Danny pales at every word, mentally freaking out a bit, ‘oh, oh no. I mean, I guess, it’s-it’s not like either of them could actually hurt, injure or trap them. But-but they better not shoot. I- what would I even do?’, blinking and scooting closer to Horace protectively, ‘protect, always. Always protect. But, but I don’t want to have to! I shouldn’t have to!’. Feeling Horace sigh, ‘they knew this would happen...but then why?’. Danny easily hears Jazz suck in a breath, while Horace mutters into Danny’s ear, “I am not a secret for keeping, calm your snow storm mind, MoonFlower”. Jazz mutters into the table, “stuff detecting Danny, again?”.

Maddie stands, glancing at the device before glaring at Horace and responding, with a strained voice, “no, Jazz. Danny’s excluded from our stuff now”. Shaking her head, but eyes staying locked with Horace’s blue ones, officially very suspicious of where they got the jagged scar over their eye. “No, it’s detecting them”.

Jack doesn’t know what to do, surely his son would have known if his partner, or whatever, was overshadowed and he-they-clearly didn’t appear ghostly.

Horace sighs, their eyes leaving Maddie to glance at Danny’s. Conflict clear as day in them, but eventually he straightens up; Horace watching him softly as he does. Both of them understanding that this is going to be rather...unpleasant, for everyone.

Danny officially gets why his other showed up so early, good impressions. Warm his parents up to them, both Horace on their own and the idea of the two of them as a pair. For once Danny’s awful sense self-awareness was actually helpful, otherwise, he’d have never loosened up over dinner; at all.

Smilingly fondly at Horace, eliciting another sigh from them; but this time it’s laced with contentment and, of all things, pride.

Horace turns their head back to the two Fenton parents, both of them are now flicking between glaring at Horace accusingly and at Danny, who’s practically pressed into Horace, worriedly. “Indeed, I did tell you as much”, rolling their hand in the air, “albeit, rather covertly”.

Jazz blinks at this and lifts up her head, squinting at them before groaning, “you literally said you were an unknown ghost”. Looking almost exhaustedly at Danny, speaking near silently, “how did you find someone as punny as you but somehow more reckless”.

While Jack knocks his chair over as he stands, Maddie tightening her grip on the ectogun strapped to her belt. Flicking her eyes over to Danny, “Daniel, explain”.

Horace smirks slightly, leaning back, “well, for hunters, this is a pretty preferable outcome. Not pleasant per se, expected though. But of course, you’ll ignore my words as you believe what you know to be something of a universal truth; when such things do not exist”. Ruffling Danny’s hair, which Danny gapes at him for ‘because how does this situation call for that? If they were anyone else they’d have to have a reckless deathwish’. Horace, continuing to speak as they fiddle with bits of Danny’s hair, “but, just like this celestial one, you have to learn everything the hard way”, closing their eyes with a soft smile, “but of course, my Raven Boy is all the better for it”.

This finally gets one of the Fenton parents to respond to them, with Maddie practically growling, “he's not “your” anything, ghost”. Stepping closer to the table, ectogun actually drawn now, “how do you even look human? How dare you go after our son”.

Jazz reaches over the table, placing her hands on the ectogun, “mom, at least let Danny actually explain”. While Danny sighs, “because they want to and, um, I’m more of the, uh, chaser”. Maddie blinks, caught a bit off guard by Danny’s comment before glaring at her daughter, but softens under her pleading face. Jack mutters, “but he’s probably being mind controlled or something”. Earning eyerolls from the couple, “dad, that’s not really something they can do”. Easily catching Jack muttering, “that’s what they want you to think, what they make you think”.

Groaning slightly, Danny rubs his neck; he’d look around, avoid their eyes, if it wasn’t for the justified concern they’d assault his other. ‘Well isn’t this just damn peachy. I guess here’s hoping I don’t want to toss myself fully into the Zone after this’.

Electing to throw his arm around Horace and smush their face into his, effectively making their human face look even less threatening; though Danny just wanted them closer for their protection, regardless of how unneeded that protection was. “I know they’re a ghost, I don’t care. I always knew, I never cared. Ghost aren’t evil, unfeeling things. They aren’t impressions of post-human consciousness, especially the ones that were never human, or alive, to begin with”, even Jazz is a little thrown by the last bit. Raising an eyebrow at Horace, earning a soft smile and nod in return, effectively answering that they indeed where a born, or in their case more correctly called a created, ghost.

Jack mutters incredulously at Horace, “born a ghost? But ghosts? Nothing but ectoplasm and leftover human thoughts, so how could? How is that?”, Jack cuts himself off with a head shake. It’s clear he was talking to himself but Horace answers anyways, “born ghosts yes, created ghosts as well. We near never leave our Ghost Realm homes, no reason”. Smirking slightly, “my reason is currently treating my face like it’s made of play dough”.

“Pfft, not sorry”, ‘besides, it sort of is. In a way. So’s mine, technically’, Danny does loosen his grip a bit though, before continuing, “besides that shouldn’t matter, what they are shouldn’t mat-”. Maddie cuts in, “ghost. A ghost. Ghosts are made of ectoplasm, sweetie. How it-”. This time Horace isn’t the only one doing the correcting, joined by both Danny and Jazz, “they”; Horace, patient and softly spoken as ever, Jazz sounding exhausted, and Danny practically growling. ‘They are not an it! Ghosts are not an it!’. Both Danny and Jazz are a bit surprised Maddie actually looks a bit apologetic, still continuing with what she was going to say though, “-came to exist. Still a ghost. Daniel, how could you? Could you be close with one like this? Even friends, haven’t we taught you how dangerous ghosts are?”.

Danny can’t help but glare, “anything with power is dangerous and loving anyone is dangerous, powers or not. Doesn’t matter”. Danny shuffles a bit, “it doesn’t matter what they’re made of. What we’ve got, odd as it is, is real; is good. They’re good, especially to me”, locking his eyes with his mom determinedly, “that’s what should matter. That they’re good to me”.

Horace nods, seeming as if this should be obvious, and frankly, it should be. Watching their mates raven black hair, highly tempted to ruffle it again, borderline purring, “and you do nothing but grace me with ocean blues and star fire”.

Jack can’t help but flop back into his chair at the sight of Danny’s flustered blushing, not sparing a thought as to how the chair is somehow back upright. And Maddie, looking around the table and catching Jazz’s soft but encouraging smile, stiffly lowers herself back into her own seat; though still glaring daggers at the ghost, at Horace.

No one does or says anything for a bit, until a squinting Jazz blurts out, “Horace?”.

“Hmmm?”.

“How old are you?”. Now Danny’s face is beet red again, and he groans, knowing full well the spiel Horace is about to go into, “that hardly applies to me, Jasmine. I’m a timeless being, ageless. But I’m certain that age isn’t really what you’re asking, but rather how long, in earthly years, I have been in existence”, at Jazz’s nod they continue, “that question hardly applies to me either, as the answer simply doesn’t exist. You could ask the first human to ever exist and they’d say they saw me yesterday. Ask the first Raptor to ever lay an egg and she’d say we had delightful tea and cakes tomorrow”.

Horace’s slight smile doesn’t falter as Maddie interrupts them, “enough with the riddles, ghost”. Sighing almost pitifully at her, “now was the best time for them, I would know”. Tilting their head to Jazz, “the simplest answer there is, is always. I have always been here, I am as “old” as existence is. As the earth, as the Ghost Realm. But I am also younger than everything”.

Jack mutters, “pretty sure that’s still a riddle...and makes no sense”.

Danny can’t help but chuckle, even if it’s a bit strained. Leaning into Horace and whispering to them, “it cool if I just tell them who you really are? You’re pretty well incapable of not being confusing here”. Horace’s eyes twinkle mischievously, speaking near silently, “I’d say the time has certainly come. This falls into the space of shouldn’t be hidden, rather than can’t be. So it is truly your choice to make Daniel, but then again, so is everything”.

“Hmpf”, Danny rolls his eyes before turning back to his family, ‘well they were exactly as helpful as expected, meaning not at all’. Clasping his hands together on the table before unclasping them to gesture at Horace, reclasping them together again as he talks, “Horace...is not their real name...just their chosen human one. To go with the human form”. Horace nods, amusement barely hidden on their face, “Horace is the English derivative of Horatius, it’s a Latin name”.

While “Horace” has a blatantly shit-eating grin plastered on their face, Danny shuffles and clears his throat a bit, before talking again, “it means “hour in time” or-”, chuckling faintly, “-time keeper””. Gesturing again at “Horace”, while Jazz goes slack-jawed; knowing full well who this is now. Danny ignores her gaping, “their real name, is ClockWork. The Time Master, Guardian of the Time Stream, Protector Of the Timeline; there’s a lot of ways to say it”. Shrugging and rubbing his neck, “basically it’s their job to make sure time itself doesn’t get destroyed. Because of that time doesn’t really apply to them”.

ClockWork nods, “I am simultaneously young, middle-aged, old, and ageless. And I see all of time, every action anyone or thing has, is, or will, ever take. I knew this conversation well before any of you were born. Before the human race even existed”.

Uncomfortable silence settles again as the Fenton parents attempt to process that, the silence was broken by Jack muttering, eyes on his invention, “no wonder you’re a warning class. That kind of power...”.

Jazz nods awkwardly, looking to lift the mood some, “while that is startling, mom, dad, that means they could have willing avoid this...but didn’t”. Flicking her eyes to Danny, “I’m pretty sure Danny didn’t know they were coming over today, so they clearly wanted you to know about them; know about this relationship”, squinting at the invention before continuing, practically whispering, “without hiding what they are...”.

ClockWork smiles softly, nodding approvingly at her, “intelligent and observant as ever, Jasmine. But fret not, I alone, did not make this choice”. Nuzzling their nose into Danny’s cheek, which he leans into, “Daniel could have simply had me leave, there was time enough for that”, smirking, “but of course, I knew he wouldn’t”.

Maddie watches the two, finding it a bit hard to glare with the pale soft looking blondes face, who hasn’t even seemed slightly threatening or even unpleasant the entire night, nestled into Danny’s neck. While Danny is clearly leaning into the affectionate display, only a slight blush showing his awareness of the presence of the rest of his family.

Maddie fiddles with the ectogun in her lap, while she stares at the table. Flicking her eyes up at Danny, who’s now watching her cautiously, “they...this ghost...they have so much power. How? How does that not bother you? They could probably destroy you, this whole city, before you could blink”, shaking her head, “that kind of power, no one or thing should have that”.

ClockWork chuckles, “oh but I was created for it. Without me, well, time would be quite...unstable”, frowning slightly, “me not existing would be far more destructive than any of my powers”.

Danny can’t help but snicker slightly, ‘that’s right, they don’t really have any actually offensive powers��, patting ClockWork’s fluffy hair, “ClockWork doesn’t really have the powers other ghosts do. They’re powers start and end with time stuff”, snorting and muttering to himself, “add in those stupid eyeballs”. Clearing his throat, “plus they’re bound, they can’t harm or destroy anyone or thing except to protect time or the future”, shrugging, “you know, world ending kind of stuff”. Muttering to himself, “it’s shocking ClockWork’s even able to date”.

ClockWork snorts into Danny’s neck, while Maddie shakes her head, “still, a ghost’s a ghost. They shouldn’t be here”, gesturing at the couple, “this shouldn’t be happening. A human...and a ghost”, shaking her head, and locking her eyes with Danny’s, “we’re Fenton’s, hunters...”.

Jack nods awkwardly, “son, Danny-boy, how can this be ok?”. Danny’s groans and tilts his head back, rubbing his face before looking to his dad, “it’s not really for you to decide if it’s ok. I’ve already decided it is, so it is”, shrugging, “you just have to, um, accept it and, um, not hate it... not hate them”.

Danny, glancing down in the direction he knows his mom’s ectogun is resting, “and ClockWork, they’re immortal. You can’t destroy them, mom, no matter what you tried. You’d have better luck blowing up the whole planet”.

Maddie tosses the gun onto the table and puts her head in her hands, while ClockWork nods, seeming almost sad, “yes, I’m will always be here. Even when nothing else is”. Danny nods lightly, muttering, “time doesn’t go away just because no one’s there to count the seconds”.

“And I am time given conscious form”, though ClockWork’s words were borderline silent, everyone clearly hears them.

Again, silence, until Jazz breaks it again, looking down at the table, “that’s...actually kind of...awful”. Danny smiles somewhat sadly at Jazz, as she flicks her eyes up at him. He nods slightly, “that’s why they’re so um, unbashful? No reason not to be and they don’t really get to do things purely for themselves...much anyway”.

Maddie and Jack glance at each other, Jack smiling a bit forced, “love is kind of selfish, isn’t it...”. Shaking his head, “love... and ghosts, who would have thought”.

This gets Maddie to blink and really study ClockWork, who’s full body leaning on Danny with their eyes closed; content and...in love. Something she never thought a ghost even capable of understanding.

Danny nods, seeming rather embarrassed, “it’s not really that, um, uncommon”, rubbing at his neck, “ClockWork’s not really the, um, first ghost I’ve dated. Though me and Kitty didn’t exactly last long”.

ClockWork snorts, “she’s hardly your type. Needy in all the wrong ways”. Danny nods, “oh yeah, big time”, shrugging, “besides, she and Johnny really are meant for each other”. Jazz groans, muttering at him, “did you have to bring him up?”. Making the couple snicker at her.

Maddie nods, feeling a bit of guilt and shame, “and you, you didn’t tell us. Because you were worried, afraid, of how we’d react”. Danny nods stiffly, but ClockWork’s the one to speak, “and rightfully so. Things are different with me, I know all the ways you could react and the likelihood of each”, lifting up their head and pushing their forehead into the side of Danny’s head, “and this Space Boy knows that, so he really should stop worrying”. Danny rolls his eyes though blushing faintly.

Jack nods strongly, looking at the two before pushing a plate of fudge Fiddle Diddles at them. Danny can’t help but smile, ‘dad’s...sharing his fudge...I just, wow. Okay, this actually worked out...somehow’.

Maddie sighs as she watches Danny and ClockWork take turns biting into one Fiddle Diddle. “So ghosts eat now”, looking down at the table, “I guess...I guess there’s a lot we don’t actually know”.

ClockWork nods, “and I know everything, you are better for not having all the information. To learn is to grow, those that can not learn can never grow nor change”. Danny grunts, “oh you learn plenty, just weirdly”, rolling his eyes, “stupid fluffy purple batman”.

ClockWork leans closer to Danny’s ear, “I think you’ll find, I’m more fine silks and satins than fluff”, resulting in Danny covering up his blushing with his hands, as ClockWork leans back init their chair with a faint smirk.

This time the silence is more comfortable as the plate gets passed around, everyone eating more or less comfortably. Though both Jack and Maddie still glance cautiously at the, uncomfortably human-looking, ghost.

Jack can’t contain his curiosity anymore, “you, ClockWork or Horace?”, shrugging, “the human look, Danny-boy said you were doing it willingly”. Maddie blinks a bit, but leans over the table a slightly, staring at ClockWork, “what do you actually look like?”. Jazz blinks, unable to help being curious herself, having never actually seen what the enigmatic time ghost truly looked like.

ClockWork cracks open one eye, “it’s Horace for those that do not know what, or who, I truly am. Same goes for the human form, I’ve been simply maintaining it to allow you time to adjust to me and the knowledge of me. Particularly, knowledge of me with your Raven Dove son”.

Jazz nods, thoroughly impressed with ClockWork’s level of forethought and sympathy. Surely they could have simply made this very jarring, instead, they’ve been easing into every aspect with practiced grace. Smiling at them, “well, I think we could all do with you being fully honest now”, chuckling, “besides, dad’s curiosity is ravenous. He’ll never stop pestering you”.

Even Danny can tell Jack has gone from cautious and confused, to uneasy acceptance, to giddy curiosity. Nudging ClockWork and smiling, eliciting another proud smile from the time ghost, “if you’re comfortable with it, Daniel, then I see no reason not to”, chuckling, “human forms are hardly comfortable to maintain”.

“So you’ve been intentionally making yourself uncomfortable just so your boyfriends' parents would at least not hate you?”, Jazz groans as ClockWork starts nodding, looking at Danny and playfully muttering, “you’re dating yourself...punny, secretive, powerful, enigmatic, mysterious, self-sacrificial...”. Danny snorts and rolls his eyes, while Jazz squints at ClockWork, “your human form, looks nothing like you actually do...does it?”, groaning as ClockWork actually laughs, “looks a lot like Danny though”.

Danny blushes as ClockWork shrugs, “what can I say, I like what I see. Who wouldn’t want to look like the living embodiment of sunlight and star fire”. ClockWork ruffles Danny’s hair as they drop the human disguise, fading away with dramatic sparks and sparkling, Danny can’t help but smirk, “drama queen”. Though rather impressed that ClockWork stays sitting in the chair, ‘sitting down with a ghostly tail isn’t exactly the easiest thing, but it’s not like they weren’t expecting to be sitting’.

All three regular humans gape, slack-jawed; at the blue-skinned, purple cloaked, and red-eyed ghost. Danny can’t help but snort as ClockWork shifts into their child form. “As I’ve said, I am every age and no age. My natural form constantly and unconsciously changes to reflect this fact”. Danny can’t help but snicker, “makes cuddling a trip, when your other is constantly changing height and size”.

“So you...can’t control it”, Jazz isn’t sure what else to say right now, they’re literally a toddler right now. ClockWork shrugs before shifting into a teenage form, “I’m hardly aware of the changing, though I can slow it down or speed it up. All things normalised with time”.

Maddie blinks and leans back, pulled out of her stupor by the pun, looking the teenage ghost over, “does this, age changing, affect your...behaviour? And how does your chest even work?”. ClockWork smirks, flicking open the clock case door-window on their chest, “it does not. My clock reflects the state of time around me. The pendulum swinging to the speed of time, or not at all if time is stopped”, flicking at the neck of the pendulum as it swings back and forth lazily, “the clock face itself is my core”. Closing the clock case window, while Danny sticks his hand under, the now adult, ClockWork’s hood; toying with the hidden blonde locks. Prompting ClockWork to ruffle Danny’s, before smushing Danny’s head into their chest; cloak draping over Danny’s shoulder in the process.

Jazz can’t help but giggle, muttering into her hand, “okay, that’s adorable”.

Danny blushes and huffs at her, while Maddie sighs, “I can’t say I like this, but I guess I can...accept it”, looking into ClockWork’s eyes, and getting startled by them becoming wrinkled and old. Shaking her head, “that’s incredibly disorienting”, sitting back up, “but know this, ghost, if you harm him. Then I don’t care how immortal you are, I will hunt you and I will destroy you”.

Danny groans loudly, “could we not with the death threats?”. ClockWork pats his head, “nonsense, I would desire nothing different. The feeling is quite mutual after all”, smiling down at Danny, “only difference is, I understand intentionally seeking revenge on your behalf wouldn’t exactly please you”, shrugging, “but if say, someone’s future suddenly started taking all the wrong twists and turns...then who’s to say if it was really my meddling that caused them to get exiled to the void of space”.

Danny squints up at ClockWork, “that is suspiciously specific...”, trailing off as ClockWork shifts to a toddler again, “...Fun Sized”.

Jack, on the other hand, is flat-out impressed and likes that this ghost is clearly protective without being flat-out obsessive. Nodding strongly, “I don’t approve of this, but you’re clearly not looking to harm. So...I guess it’s fine”, looking down at Danny, who’s clearly beaming, “still beyond weird and not really okay, especially for a Fenton”.

Jazz nods, “well look at it this way, Danny isn’t as uninterested in ghost stuff as you thought?”. Maddie glances at her, slightly unimpressed. While Danny snorts, pulling teenage ClockWork’s cloak around himself a bit more, “my interest is friendly and affectionate, not really the same Jazz”. Maddie frowns at Danny, but nods with a sigh, “and I’m guessing you’re pretty set on your feelings and-”, gesturing at ClockWork, “-on this, on them”.

Danny nods almost aggressively, “yes, mom, ClockWork is my other, my mate”. Jack takes in Danny firm face and intense gaze, before nodding at him, “well that settles it then”. Turning to ClockWork and awkwardly holding out his hand for a handshake, “I guess, welcome to the Fenton family, ClockWork”.

Maddie stares at her husband a bit as he shakes hands with a ghost, glaring at ClockWork, “I wouldn’t say you’re part of the family, ghost, but if Danny is as certain as he clearly is, then our home, our family, will allow you in”, muttering to herself, though easily heard by the two ghostly mates, “pretty sure you’d get in any way though”.

Judging by the mischievous twinklings in the pairs eyes and the smirks, Maddie knows she’s right. She’s pretty well certain this ghost, ClockWork, has been over multiple times.

Jazz, blinking a bit and staring at ClockWork’s hand and wrist, lazily resting on the backing of their chair, “what’s with all the watches? You’re practically covered in clock imagery”. Instantly regretting her question and showing it with a groan, as the pair smirk.

“I’m the time master, everything is time with me. I also have a pocket watch wrapped around my belt. My cloak clasp is a clock gear, my name is a time pun, Jasmine. You should expect as much”. Danny sticks out his tongue at her, but answers his dad’s confused expression, “clocks count time, keep track of it. And time is ClockWork’s job, their work. So they’re a clock that works. ClockWork”. Jazz groans, “you’re awful, both of you”.

Jack shakes his head, amused, at the, clearly mischevious and jokester, ghost. Before gesturing over to the living room, “so movies? I’d say pull out Danny’s baby home videos....but with what I’ve learned of you, that’d be really pointless”. Maddie nods, following Jack to stand in the doorway, watching Danny untangle himself from ClockWork’s purple cloak, “they probably watched him grow up”.

Maddie gets startled by ClockWork, clearly not expect them to actually comment on what she said, “indeed I did, I knew how important he’d be, especially to me. Of course, I paid more attention to his growing up than most”, ClockWork smiles fondly while Danny just blushes, blushing even more as a child ClockWork sits on his shoulder, ghostly tail lazily wiggling and occasionally tracing along his collar bone.

Jazz mutters, “again, adorable. Weird, but adorable”. While Maddie shakes her head, “how is that not rather creepy”. Danny just shrugs at her, walking past her to the couch, he’s really got no way to explain why it’s not; it just isn’t. Letting ClockWork float off his shoulder, changing into their teenage form, before sitting on the couch; Danny cuddling into them. Jazz puts herself in between Danny and their parents, obviously playing the role of protective, and overbearing, sister.

Jack eventually settles on some sci-fi movie, Maddie eyes ClockWork’s tail as Jack puts in the movie, “why the constant tail? Wouldn’t legs be more comfortable?”. ClockWork gives her a warm smile, “I always have a tail. As Daniel has said, I’m not like other ghosts. I don’t have things other ghosts do, legs are one of those things”.

“Huh”, with that everyone settles in and watches the movie mostly silently.

Danny, chuckling after a while, “I’m going to guess that it’s a little early to drag everyone to ClockWork’s lair, ain’t it?”, Danny can’t help but tilt his head back and laugh as both his parents speak up at the same time. Mixtures of excitement, worry, and mistrust in their voices.

“You’ve been to a ghost lair!?!”.

“You went into the ghost zone! Danny! You know how dangerous that is!?!”.

“What’s the air like?!? Does h-they have furniture?!? Is it all green?!?”.

“Were you safe? Please tell me you were at least together the whole time...”.

ClockWork raises their hand, “I might be able to control time and in general be quite content to indulge curiosities, but even I’ve got a limit to my tolerance. Patient as I may be”, frowning slightly before continuing, “this is far more socialising than I get in an entire year, I’m a solitary thing; with nothing but silence for company for most of my existence”.

Jazz mutters, “once again, that’s kind of awful”. ClockWork shrugs, “it’s my existence, and it will never change. I’m made for it, meant for it; so push aside your pity, it is misplaced”.

“Anyway...”, Danny chuckles, rolling his eyes at his long-winded other. Leaning forward and looking to his mom, “it’s perfectly safe, mom. Especially the clocktower citadel, there’s probably no better protected or harder to find places in the whole Zone”, chucking and shaking his head, “you can’t even find the place at all, unless ClockWork here wants you to. Same for getting inside, or finding ClockWork themselves. That’s not even mentioning that the place exists in a different state of time and gets visitors from other timelines”.

Maddie mutters, “well I guess that’s secure enough”. Danny nods curtly before turning to his, practically bouncing and bursting with curiosity, dad, “yes they’ve got furniture, mostly purple or black though. Lots of gears and bits of clocks, viewing screens and portals to timelines, pasts, presents, and futures”.

ClockWork chuckles, “at least you’ve learned not to jump through them, without at least asking, now”, ruffling Danny’s hair, “even if you did have to learn that the hard way, like usual”. Danny looks away and makes a show of pouting, “you can’t present someone with the option to time-travel and expect them to not take it, Gears”. ClockWork tilts their head down to look at Danny’s face, “yes well, most folks don’t mess up the past every single time. How you manage that is both endearing and ridiculous”. Tilting their head over to Jazz, “it took a whole year to fix it last time, and all he did was pick up a rock”, turning back to Danny, “out of all the rocks you decide to poke, of all the possibilities, you manage to grab the only one stopping a river from collapsing”.

Danny just shrugs guiltily while Jack chuckles, “wow, sounds like you’ve dragged Danny-boy on some adventures”, chuckling again, “or more so, he’s dragged you on them”. While Jazz snickers, quietly speaking, “reckless as ever”.

ClockWork easily catches Maddie glaring at them, waving their elderly hand dismissively at her, “I’m aware of all of time, I was fully aware of where and when he was at all times. I also knew what and how he was going to mess things up well beforehand”, shrugging, “but he had lessons to learn, so I let time take its course. We met when he was fourteen, so there was plenty he had yet to learn. As I’ve said-”, patting Danny’s head, “-he likes to learn things the hard way, or weird way”. Danny grunts, “least I’m not boring”.

Jack can’t help but chuckle, slapping his knee, “well that’s a Fenton for you!”. Maddie points at them, “you better not have been together when Danny was that young”.

ClockWork puts up one hand to pacify her, “but of course not, it was by no means the time for this. I was simply a friend and occasional guiding hand”. Danny pokes their cheek, “you and your soft spot for me. Wouldn’t have done all that for anyone else”, smirking mischievously at the teenage ClockWork, “and imagine my surprise when I discovered that soft spot was heart-shaped”. Danny doesn’t even attempt to hide his wider smirk, hearing ClockWork’s steadily ticking clock core tick a bit louder.

Alt Ending:

“WARNING, GHOSTS DETECTED. ONE FOOT. WARNING, APOCALYPTIC ECTOPLASMIC THREATS WITHIN ONE HUNDRED FEET. ONE IDENTITY KNOWN, DANNY PHANTOM. TYPICAL GHOST POWERS, ICE POWERS, GHOSTLY WAIL, ONE UNKNOWN POWER. POWER LEVEL TWENTY-FIVE. ONE IDENTITY UNKNOWN. POWERS UNKNOWN. POWER LEVEL TWENTY-EIGHT”.

Danny pales at every word, mentally freaking out a bit, ‘oh, oh no. This is so not how they were supposed to find out. But-but would they shoot? Shoot me? My other? I- what do I even do?’, blinking and scooting closer to Horace protectively, ‘protect, always. Always protect. But, but I don’t want to have to! I shouldn’t have to! Heck! I might need the protection myself!’. Feeling Horace sigh, ‘they knew this would happen...but then why?’. Mentally pausing for only a few seconds, ‘of course, they, they’re looking to protect, protect me...oh god this isn’t going to go well, is it?’.

Danny easily hears Jazz suck in a breath, while Horace mutters into Danny’s ear, “not every secret can be kept forever, you’ve had enough resets by now to know this. I’m sorry for this, my MoonFlower”. Jazz mutters into the table, “stuff detecting Danny, again?”.

Maddie stands, glancing at the device before glaring at the pair and responding, with a strained voice, “no, Jazz. It only detects ghosts”.

Jack doesn’t know what to do, surely he would have known if his son was overshadowed and he-both of them actually-clearly didn’t appear ghostly. So what was the truth, “Danny?Phantom?”.

Horace sighs, their eyes leaving Maddie’s to glance at Danny’s. Conflict clear as day in them, feeling his grip tighten on their dress shirt sleeve; Horace watching him sadly as he does.

Maddie interrupts their slight intimacy, “ghosts, no games. Where’s my son, the real one”.

Danny sighs, giving Horace a pained smile, eliciting sigh from them as well; but this time it’s laced with resignation and, of all things, determination.

Horace turns their head back to the two Fenton parents, both of them are now flicking between glaring at Horace accusingly and at Danny, who’s practically pressed into Horace, hatefully. “Indeed, I did tell you as much”, Horace says through a frown as Danny phases the two of them through their chairs, but, due to their physical closeness, Maddie and Jack can’t tell who did it. Horace wraps their arm protectively around Danny’s shoulder, Danny does the same around Horace’s waist.

Jack jerks out of his chair, sending it crashing to the ground; while Maddie goes to aim her gun. Jazz practically jumps out of her seat and slams her hand onto Maddie’s gun, “mom! Stop! Don’t, that’s Danny, the real Danny”, quickly sparing Danny a sympathetic glance, “he always has been”.

Maddie ignores Jazz and practically growls, “that’s not “Danny” anything, Danny’s no ghost”. Stepping closer to the table, “how do you even look human? How dare you pretend to be our son, our Danny”. Glaring even harder, “and that other thing is almost just as bad”.

‘Well isn’t this just damn peachy. I guess I always was going to have to fling my self into the Zone eventually. Here’s hoping I can do that with getting fully offed’. Clearing his throat, hoping to at least buy time or maybe, just maybe, get them to understand; to not hate him or his other, “I know we’re ghosts. Phantom, yes; but I’m still Danny. I always have been, I’ve never been pretending. Ghost aren’t evil, unfeeling things. I’m your son”, shuffling a bit, “only half ghost though, me. But that shouldn’t matter, none of this should mat-”, Danny gets cut off by Maddie firing her gun off at the floor.

Jazz jerks back, startled, unsure if that was just cause of her mom’s extreme grip or if she did that intentionally. Jazz gets her answer as Maddie snaps, “that’s not even possible, ghosts are nothing but liars and evil. Ectoplasmic scum!”, Jack grabs and pulls Jazz to the side as Maddie storms towards the couple.

‘Oh god, she’s-she’s really going to, going to shoot at me?!? What the hell?!?’, Danny can’t help but curl into Horace’s side like a kicked puppy; tears welling up in his eyes.

Maddie snaps again, though not lifting her gun up, “how dare you tell me lies about my son! How dare you come into a hunter’s home and think you can trick us!”, sneering at them, “ectoplasmic filth always thinking so little of humans, but Fenton’s aren’t your usual and we won’t be trick by such filth”.

Horace then does something Danny’s never seen them do, they snarl; teeth bared and eyes red, full-blown snarling at Maddie, “you’re already believing lies, but the one telling you those lies is yourself. Little Raven Dove deserves better than that”.

Horace’s glaring doesn’t falter and their teeth stay bared, as Maddie sneers at them, “enough with the lies, ghost. Things like you have no place in this world, even if half ghosts were possible; a ghost is still a ghost. Half of one is just a bastardised monster”.

Jazz gapes at Maddie while Horace sighs pitifully at Maddie, giving Jazz a soft apologetic smile before returning to snarling at Maddie, “you mortals always insist on learning things the hard way, but this is a lesson you don’t get to rewrite. Pick your actions carefully”, feeling the slight shaking in Danny’s tightly gripping hands and slight wetness on their shoulder, Horace stands defiant, holding one hand behind their back, and spits their words like venom, “though your ill-chosen words have already failed you”.

Jazz tries to pull away from her dad, but his grips firm though he looks at her confused; not understanding why she appears to be crying. Jazz cries out, though her gut tells her words are pointless, “mom! Don’t! Please! Can’t you for once in your life realise your science isn’t perfect! That you could be wrong! Because you’re wrong!”, struggling more, “Danny is strange, yes! But that’s ok! That’s good! He does good! Leave my little brother alone!”.

Maddie flinches from her daughters' words, but only looks at the two with more hate, hissing out, “you corrupted her. You messed with my baby girl”.

Danny nearly whimpers, “no...”. But he can see there’s no arguing with her and Horace knows there’s not, they always knew such. Horace, pushing Danny behind them slightly, feeling Danny’s fingers brush against theirs behind their back; knowing that Danny knows what they intend to do.

Snapping at Maddie at the feel of Danny’s slight shaky nod, “the only one corrupting anything is you. You were blessed with a celestial child, a son of star fire. One blazing more pure and bright than any sun, yet you refuse, you reject. But I expected as much, I knew as much, I saw as much”. Shaking their head disappointedly, “in another time you may have earned the right to see me, to know me; but not in this one, not this time. You deserve nothing more than to crumble and fall with the sands of time, and you will, times told it so. Horace means time keeper for a reason, I keep times truth and times truth is thus”, frowning sadly at Maddie as she slowly, attempting subtlety, charges up her gun. Catching Jazz’s nearly inaudible whisper, “ClockWork...I...thank you...”.

Attention squarely back on Maddie, “truth will forever be a mystery to you, you’ll grow old and die; without a son, without a daughter. You will join the Ghost Realm, bitter, lonely and endlessly resentful. You will be rejected there, you will reject yourself; though Snow White, far to fair, will forgive you. You’ll be too far gone and so you’ll join that foolish power-mad space nomad, exiled. But he’ll destroy you, fuelled by his own bitter, lonely, resentment”.

Everything is silent for a second, an all too familiar calm before the storm; familiar especially to Danny, one far too used to living in storms and awaiting the next one. Mentally muttering, ‘oh look, another tornado to destroy my whole life’.

Jazz tries her damnedest to pull away from her father as she watches her mother jerk the gun up, finger on the trigger. Seeing Horace, ClockWork, pulling out their staff seconds faster. Slamming away Maddie’s gun as they spin the staff, creating a portal. Jazz cries even harder and slams her fist on Jack’s chest after she can see Danny disappear safely with his other. An other she knows will protect him and help him heal from this, she doesn’t have to worry about him but she’ll be damned if her “parents” get away with hurting her little brother so.

The last thing Danny sees of his family is Jazz slamming her second fist into Jack’s chest. Blinking and staggering away from ClockWork a bit, as he sees they’re on a grassy hill; countless stars above and Amity’s city lights in the distance.

Whipping at his eyes before collapsing back into ClockWork’s satin cloak, “I’m sorry Daniel, my little stargazing Space Boy, but it’s all I could do”, cradling the young halfa they love into their chest, his tear-streaked face pushing harshly into their neck.

“I know”, comes out quiet and broken; yet ClockWork feels the words echo like a gong and scream beyond any ghostly wail.

End.

#Danny Phantom #danny fenton #fanfic #phanphic #Maddie Fenton #jack fenton #jazz fenton #clockwork #agender character #they/them pronouns #romance #ship #danny/clockwork #danny x clockwork #temporal trust #puns #pet names #my writing #have a fic suck my dick

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catch22inareddress · 6 years ago

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Kismet

Della Fontaine is the typical girl next door. Fresh from North Carolina and coming to the Big Apple for the change of scenery. However, her next door neighbor, Sebastian, is the opposite of her. Outgoing, handsome, popular, with a twinge of heartbreaker lurking around his soft edges.

His ex is the epitome of everything she’s not. A model, vicious to the core, and willing to go to extremes to make sure that Sebastian’s sees Della for what she isn’t. Her.

What happens when neighbors become friends while trying to ignore the chemistry between them? Will the stars keep pushing them together or will it all come crashing down?

Chapter One: Designed by Destiny

1. Fate; a predetermined or unavoidable destiny.

I never believed in fate or kismet or whatever the hell you want to call actions or consequences that makeup one's life. It's arduous to think that no matter what you do, no matter what decision you made you will end up at the exact same point because it was by fate's design. I've made selfless choices and been a reasonable person in hopes that the next person would pay it forward, not to benefit myself or my situation. Other times, I've been selfish and made a decision only to help myself, I'm human. Yet, none of these choices that I have ever made hurt anyone.

Every break up I've ever had has been amicable. Although, it probably helped that it lacked in all things passion and was more practical than anything else.

The reason I'm currently mulling over my belief in kismet is the fact that my very handsome and recently unattached neighbor is doing pull-ups from his balcony while I'm pretending to read my book.

While I could say that me choosing to sell all of my belongings and leaving all of my friends behind in North Carolina to move to New York was just an arbitrary decision. That this building that my new boss just happened to need to sublet was a fluke when I had no place set up to live. I could also say that the fact that my neighbor being non-other than Sebastian Stan, the walking lady boner, was just pure luck and nothing else.

Kismet? Luck? At this point, do I really care? Not particularly. He's single, sure. However, let's be realistic. I'm not like his last drop dead modelesque Brazilian style girlfriend. I'm the girl next door type who works mostly from home as a graphic designer who decided that for whatever reason, wanted to work closer to the actual office when I don't EVER go into said office. Him just being single means I don't feel guilty for eye diddling him from the next balcony.

I've been here for a few months and still haven't gotten used to his god-like perfection. I keep thinking that staring at him more will help with that but ...no, not yet. Like many other women, I am not immune to his charms. At our first encounter, I nearly was a stuttering mess of goo all over the floor. The mere recollection of it makes me turn shades of pink.

3 months ago:

"Hmm, box number 5?" I said looking for my mailbox. The numbers were worn off even though the building was newly renovated and in near pristine condition.

I spotted it and inserted the key, but it got stuck to my dismay. "Seriously?" As I grunted and tugged at the key, I heard a girlish giggle from behind me.

"Have you never worked a mailbox before?" I turned to see this 5'10'' model that was apparently a mean girl in school. I gave her my best smile despite myself.

"I have, but it would seem the ones in New York are sooo different from North Carolina....and I just can't figure it out." I drew out my southern accent for effect.

Just as I said it a broad-shouldered man with a baseball cap came around the corner chuckling at my statement, while his girl toy was huffing at my sarcastic remark. To be frank, I was surprised she even picked up on the sarcasm. "Not funny, Sebby."

He shrugged. "Funny, especially because you were being rude, Sophia." Hmmm. Sophia. Sounds exotic. As soon as my eyes meet his bright blue orbs, all my snark went straight back to the Carolina's in a handbasket. "H-Hi."

He held out his hand. "Sebastian. We're neighbors. This is my girlfriend. Sophia. I apologize for her manners, she can help it, but she chooses not to."

My slack jaw must've thrown him off because he just smirked and stared at me. I managed to garner some of my wits back, yay for womanhood everywhere. "Well, that sounds like a personal problem. I'm sure she'll do great things in life.." He smiled as we both took in her making funny faces at her selfie camera. He grunted out a sarcastic yea as I tried to hide my snicker.

He reached over my shoulder while I held my breath wondering what in the good gravy he was doing. Unfortunately, he didn't grab a lock of my hair and gently put it behind my ear, he did do the next best thing. At least, that's what I will keep telling myself. He grabbed the key that was currently within the grips of hell, otherwise known as my antique mailbox.

He laughed while he gently tried not to manhandle the government's property while I ogled him and his primadonna princess stared at her snapchat and took selfies behind us. "All the boxes get stuck occasionally. You have to pull the key out just a bit, then turn." I tried to hold my breath versus breathing the scent of him in. All woodsy pine and pure deliciousness. "Ah. Thank you for letting me in on the building secret. And here I thought I would have to move." He instantly frowned.

"Now we can't have that, neighbor. The last woman that lived here was a wallbanger and kept me up most nights." Had I been drinking the pretentious drink that his girl was drinking, I would've spewed it all over his preposterously handsome face.

"Sorry, wallbanger? Loud?" He chuckled while Sophia cleared her throat showing her readiness to leave. Slowly, the three of us made our way to the elevator while she remained transfixed on her social media app. I couldn't help but think that if this were my man, I would put my phone in the sink disposal for more talk time with him, yet here she was squandering precious minutes. Like they say, 'One man's trash is another man's treasure.'

He blushed a bit before continuing his explanation. "Yea. She had a few boyfriends throughout the few years she lived here. But man was she noisy, the walls aren't thick just so you know. Our beds are on the same one, and her frame would knock the wall and wake me up. I was sooo happy when she moved." I couldn't contain the laugh that bubbled up from within my noticeably smaller chest. Damn Sophia and her genetics....or surgeon.

"Well, that's just fantastic. I'm never gonna look at my boss the same way." He looked at me with his brow furrowed. "Oh, I'm subletting from her. She's..my boss." He let out this heartstopping laughter that made my cheeks hurt I smiled so hard. I probably looked like the Chesire Cat just got a catnip toy, but I didn't care. I risked a glance at Sophia, and she seemed annoyed at his larger than life presence and laughter. He held his stomach as his laughter quieted down.

"That is rich. Please, tell me how that goes." The elevator came to a stop on our floors, and he gestured for Sophia and me to get off before him. I walked past him to go to my door and looked back after he let her inside. He spoke a bit softer to my surprise.

"Sorry about her. She's...well nevermind. Just sorry. But hey, don't be a stranger." I smiled as I tried and failed miserably to be casual and missed my door, nearly falling into my apartment. Sebastian, thankfully, stifled his laughter and only smiled at my clumsiness. "Thanks, but I don't want the fake nails to come out. Oh! That was mean. I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "No worries. What's your name, Carolina?" I smiled. "Della, Della Fontaine." He went closer into his apartment. "Sebastian Stan. Nice to meet you, Della Fontaine."

Present:

He was the most genuine person I had met since coming to New York. Well, his whole crew was pretty straightforward, to be fair. He took me under his wing and showed me the best food trucks and places to gorge myself properly.

"Hey, Della!" He ripped me from my thoughts as he threw a pen at my head from his balcony, missing me entirely but scaring my cat Hagrid. Sebastian yelled out a sorry to the beautiful Maine Coon as he skirted inside to find sanctity.

"You shouldn't throw things, Seb. Last time you pegged Will, and it poked Chris in the eye. Not even sure how that happened." He shrugged and wiped the sweat off his brow while leaning on the railing; naturally, I ogle. I give good ogle.

"What are you doin' tonight, Carolina?" I put my book down, sitting up and shrugging. "I'm suupppooossseee to be setting up my dating profile, but if someone dangles a twinkie in front of me with better plans, I'm game. By better plans I mean laundry, grocery shopping, moving, even driving you to the airport." He frowned but then smiled at my ridiculousness.

"You can't do online dating in New York. So I will definitely rope you in on something better." He stood up stretching. Was he purposely trying to torture the women and me across the street? I know at least two of them have binoculars. One of which is his ex. Yep. Different story, another time.

"First, thank you for whatever plans you have pre-emptively made for me. Second, why can't I date online in New York?" I stood up and wandered over to my side of the balcony to be closer to him.

He gave me his famous, "Are you serious?" look, like that was going to provide me with allll the answers to the universe. My rebuttal was a challenging, yet mature, raising of the eyebrows.

"Alright, you want me to say it? You're too sweet and good, the girl next door. Wallstreet will devour you. Which means you'll have to bail me out for kicking the douchebags ass for hurting you." Part of me jumped for joy at the thought of my very own knight in shining armor, but then the nail in my coffin came.

"Look, if you really wanna date someone. I can set you up." What's that? Oh sure. I love roses on my headstone. Red, please.

I cleared my throat and tried to sound sprightly. "Only if I get to screen them like online dating can. I don't want to be set up with your dry cleaner or shoe repair guy. Not when you have people like Evans in your arsenal of friends. Not sayin' Evan's would go for a girl like me, just don't set me up with a dumpy loser or I'll cut you. Or at the very least jump on my bed all night long."

He narrowed his eyes, daring my sauciness. "You wouldn't." I nodded. "Oh, one bad date and trust me, I would. Chose wisely." As I turned to sashay into my flat. "Text me my plans tonight, so I know what to wear."

I felt like I won this round as I looked back at the playful glint in his baby blues.

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#Sebastian Stan #sebastianstan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian imagine #fluff #romance #reader #sebastian stan reader #love #friends to lovers #stalker #crazyex #imagine #miniseries #kismet

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seenashwrite · 6 years ago

Text

It’s Always Sunny In Lebanon

Status: Complete Word Count: 4.1K Category: One-shot, Humor, Holidays, Christmas, Cross-over (It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia) Rating: (Older) Teen & Up Character(s): People and places you’ll recognize [be surprised, eh?] Warnings: A solid section of, um, coarse language Pseudo-Warning: If you aren’t familiar with the show “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia”, this one may not be for you, just FYI. [wink] Author’s Note(s): For @ellen-reincarnated1967’s “Andi Turns 36: SPN & It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia Crack Challenge” - hope I did your favorite shows justice! I strenuously recommend readers “hear” the non-dialogue parts in your best-worst approximation of a super-snooty British accent, as if a posh older gentleman is telling you of this debacle (for instance, our main character’s name should be pronounced “Buh-nurd”). Imagine your guide is seated with perfect posture in a leather chair near a fireplace, snifter in hand, looking down his nose at you. And of course there’s a damn ascot and a jacket with embroidered monogram, I’m not playing around, neither should your mind’s eye; more post-story Overall Summary: This is the story of the largely unmentioned Bevell son, who was born out of wedlock many years ago. A reject from the MoLs, he was shipped off to ‘Merica in disgrace, and after prompting from his nephew, is determined to solve the mystery of his missing sister, Lady Antonia “Brain-Diddle” Bevell. Overall Summary Spoiler Alert: This does not go well.

Bernard Bevell was born to one Anastasia Bevell at the worst possible time. She was fifteen, finishing what would be her final year at a private girls' school, established for and populated by the most posh and elite young ladies, the ones destined for greatness. In Anastasia's case, this meant a life full of action and adventure, fulfilling family tradition by becoming a member of a prestigious - albeit unknown to most - society. All she had to do was make it to the end of term and pack up her room.

She hadn't known she was with child, as he wasn't a terribly active house guest, as it were, quite slug-like, in fact. Then when a particularly raucous round of gas sent Anastasia to the loo, she hadn't been perched on the throne for long when there came Bernard. It was, to be sure, a less-than-illustrious beginning.

Bernard's life followed suit.

Anastasia was not allowed to proceed with her plans, in large part because of his existence. No amount of pleading and pledges of sizable donations on her father's part were accepted. Everyone knew the situation, and as everyone's opinion mattered, this vexed him, which vexed his wife, which in turn brought their ire down upon their daughter, declaring that her piece of the family fortune would now be bestowed upon her other siblings, and them alone.

Though Anastasia had not a maternal bone in her body, when she fled from the family estate she brought her son, and everything she could stuff into as many suitcases as would fit into her Aston Martin. She departed in the dead of night, stopping only to transfer Bernard from her valise to the floorboard after an impressive nappy fill. He had inherited his mother's... constitution.

It should be said, neither Bernard - or Bernie, as he came to be called - nor Anastasia were Bevells in the beginning, and for several years after the estrangement, they struggled, despite the chunk of cash Anastasia stole from her father's safe on the way out. The ancient, rotting duplex they called home for the first six years of Bernie's life was never without action, however; they had frequent visitors, many of whom he saw more than once, and they always brought him toys to play with when they'd go upstairs with Anastasia to discuss business. She explained to Bernie that she was a bank of sorts, and that they were stopping by to make deposits.

Bernie knew better, though; they played, too. Those old, creaky floorboards in combination with the old, creaky mattress didn't muffle much. Bernie couldn't wait to be a grown-up, so he could jump on the bed and laugh and shout without getting scolded.

While his mother was cold, to say the least, and she did her business double-time at holidays, she never failed to make them special, arranging virtual parades of pudgy cupids and tall Easter bunnies, and then best of all was Christmastime. Father Christmas after Father Christmas after Father Christmas - sometimes two and three at once! - would stop by, and even the occasional troupe of elves would show up. Bernie was proud for the connections his brilliant mother had made. The neighbor children didn't believe him, so he'd invite them over to see; their parents never let them stay. He felt sorry for them.

The toys were fantastic at these times of year, what with the bows and arrows, and the chocolates and candies, and the army men and train sets. By the time he was five years old, they had moved on to lodgings more suited to his mother's taste, and the holidays were still filled with sweets and presents, but it wasn't the same. He hoped after they moved that all of her business associates - especially the Father Christmases - had found new banks for their deposits, ones as exceptional as his mother.

These dealings allowed his mother to integrate herself back into society a bit, and soon she became a Lady, because she'd married Lord Bevell - which is what Bernie was instructed to call his new stepfather. Bernie never did learn his name, though he was allowed to call the Lord's mother Grandmother Bevell. He was largely cared for by a nanny here, a butler there, and his adopted grandmother was loving - she'd made the attic quite comfortable for him, in his estimation. And when his sister came along, he learned she'd been named for their grandmother: Antonia. Bernie himself had been named after the dog.

As time went on, Bernie's behavior became of concern to all parties - his initial royal flush was not his last. His adoption into the Bevell clan brought along with it some perks, such as a sizable allowance and private schooling. His academic career began with a rousing start, wherein he failed first grade, going on to fail out of many schools, including the last resort, militaristic boarding school where, at seventeen, he was the oldest freshman they'd ever had. The gambling ring he'd begun, including but not limited to betting on squirrel battle royales, ensured his departure, and by the time he was twenty, he'd torn through most of the modest trust fund bestowed upon him at eighteen.

But most concerning to Lord and Lady Bevell was Bernie's influence on Antonia. Lord Bevell was also a member of the Men of Letters, like his wife's father, and while Antonia's mother's antics had not been forgotten by the elder members, that she had done well for herself in the end had not gone unnoticed. Antonia's education and training had already begun, courtesy of her father, at a young age. She was exceptional, earning high marks in all subjects with ease, an accomplished equestrian, could best any competitor in fencing.

And she could manipulate the hell out of anyone who stood in her path.

Antonia loved her older half-brother to the extent he was of use, case in point: taking her to the more questionable areas of the city so she could drink and play billiards, and - as her grandmother would later put it - carouse. She was smart enough not to reveal her actual identity, and so Toni the Tramp became legendary, a name whispered in the pubs, warnings issued amongst friends, then further amongst the pub owners who warned their barkeeps of the pre-teen who would talk them into serving her shot after shot, challenging them to beat her, leaving them stumbling while she nicked from the till.

Bernie was so, so proud of his genius sister. He considered her his best friend, despite her frequent sneers and insults. Alas, their hijinks were short-lived; she was sent off to Kendricks, and he was exiled to America with what was left of his trust fund.

Settling in Philadelphia, Bernie continued his antics, being conned out of large sums of his money along the way - often by the trust's manager, Frank - stumbling into circumstances that allowed him to get it back by other means, though he'd fortunately made a great friend not long after he'd been in town, a chance meeting at the meth clinic. Mac frequently borrowed money from Bernie, given their shared love of beer and the resulting hefty tabs, but the thing that solidified their relationship was a love of Christmas.

His friend's family did it up right, and Bernie was blissfully surrounded by gingerbread and turkey and sparkling lights on trees. It made him miss the old days, and even made him miss the later days, when he'd be tasked with crawling under the tree at the manor, getting covered in sap, passing Antonia's presents to her as he located his own. Santa had always been careful to hide his presents at the very back, where his curious sister would not tear into them with her teeth. Antonia always was partial to biting her way through things; as usual, Bernie admired her style.

The years passed.

Grandmother Bevell took ill and died, and due to a careless secretary Bernie was made aware. After the funeral, a large spread had been assembled for the mourners and whilst in the process of stuffing his pockets with roast lamb, he spotted Antonia lingering in a corner. He rushed over, immediately drawing her into an embrace, which made her immediately grimace; her only reciprocation was to push him away.

"You smell of meat," she said.

"Nah, it's just this lamb, I never get it back home, better stock up while the getting's good."

"Your pockets are dripping. And why have you adopted that ridiculous American accent?"

"I dunno. Hey, wow, Tones - you're getting fat."

She glared. "I'm not fat." A pause. "Do you have anything besides lamb in your pockets?"

"You mean----"

"I mean, let's go out to the stables."

"I don't wanna ride right now, but thanks for----"

"We're not going to ride, you buffoon. We're going to get out of this godforsaken misery. If you've nothing of worth on you, then nevermind, I'll have to find another way to distract myself. I can't believe you've shown up here empty-handed."

"I had some poppers, but those were for the plane----"

"Then just swipe some of the wine and meet me there. Hurry it up!"

Bernie grew sentimental. "Aw, like we used to?"

He received no answer; Antonia had already turned and begun walking to the kitchen, so she could slip out the back door.

Bernie learned that day that his sister was not, in fact, getting fat. Like her mother, she had found herself out of wedlock and with child. But unlike her mother, she was already at Kendricks, only a year away from graduation, and she held great promise, such great promise that she was already considered an asset to the Men of Letters. The headmistress, Dr. Hildegard Hess - the one Toni called "the crone" - had herself been at Kendricks many moons ago and knew of the Anastasia-Bernie situation. Ordinarily, she'd have given a student who'd behaved so irresponsibly the proverbial boot, only she saw future benefit in keeping Toni around, and so she helped Toni cover up her pregnancy by saying she'd been sent away on an apprenticeship. Lord and Lady Bevell arranged for a stately home away from the city, though not too terribly country, and a nanny was employed, and baby Artie was safe and sound while his young mother finished her time at Kendricks.

More years passed.

As Toni's status in the Men of Letters grew, so Baby Artie grew, though in his case, it was not by much. That is to say, his mind - like his mother's - was far ahead of other children his age, but his stature remained diminutive. He appeared many years younger than his actual age, and his innocent countenance let him get away with murder. Literally. Bernie knew this because despite Toni's forbidding Artie to be in contact with his uncle following the mess Bernie made of Artie's christening when he caused the priest to faint upon the sight of the carefully-crafted rat mobile gnawing its way through the gift box, his conniving nephew was proficient at hiding email trails and stashing phones.

Artie appreciated that Bernie didn't scold him when he told of his adventures. He'd regale Bernie with stories of his neighborhood hijinks - baptizing cats, and shooting stray hounds with pellet guns, tossing the occasional molotov at other neighborhood children - but he assured Bernie that he left the badgers alone, even trained a particularly vicious one to nip at his most recent nanny's ankles, did it with a dog whistle, he'd bragged. He'd sent Bernie a video, it was amazing, though Bernie still held an affinity for squirrels. He had found that Philadelphia city rats were comparable, highly trainable, offered to ship one over as he had a shoebox handy; Artie wisely declined.

And then, disaster struck.

Summer had barely begun when Artie called Bernie in near-hysterics, causing his concerned uncle to steal away to the corner of his favorite bar, trying to calm the child.

"Art, my man - chill out! You gotta slow down!"

"It's Mummy!"

Bernie's eyes grew wide. "You have a mummy? Did you wrap up your nanny?" He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Did you remember to take out her brain?"

"I mean MUMMY - my mother! She's been in America for ages, and now she's gone missing!"

"Whaddya mean, missing?"

"We haven't heard from her in over a month!"

Bernie leaned against the wall, suddenly feeling wobbly in the knees. "Artie, what was she doing here? Where was she? What----"

"You have to find her," Artie said, and gone was the child's panic, his voice now more adult than his uncle's, his tone both grave and demanding.

"How am I supposed to----"

"I've wired you money for expenses. There is a plane ticket waiting for you - you're going to Kansas City, then I'll have a car rented for you - you have to go to a godforsaken mole hill called Lebanon."

"I can't do this alone!" Bernie blurted out, not bothering to argue, he knew he'd go as instructed, but he was scared.

Artie huffed, said, "Fine - I'll arrange another ticket, bring that friend of yours, he has some sense, at least."

Bernie felt the sting. "Artie... what's that supposed to mean?"

Artie immediately reverted to his most innocent. "Aw, Uncle Bernie, I'm sorry. I'm frightened for Mummy. Please don't be cross with me---" a pause for a sniffle "---I just don't know what I might do if I thought you hated me."

Bernie assured Artie of his love, assured him that he - and Mac - would do whatever they could to find Toni.

Bernie and Mac missed their flight.

Much shenanigans ensued, thanks to friends of Mac's who had warily accepted Bernie into their group, cheekily called “The Gang”.

Months passed.

Artie's fury grew.

And finally, once a van was procured with the last of the funds Artie had provided, the duo took off for Kansas around Christmastime - but first, they stopped off at Mac's mother's home, knowing his stocking would already hold both candy for the road, and cash for their pockets.

It was here that Bernie regaled Mac with more tales of his love of Christmas, why he loved it so, and specifically how his own mother used to do it up right. This is when Mac said those fateful words, though he did not know just how much they would alter fate at the time. It was a simple statement, well-phrased, delicate, empathetic. Mac said:

"Based on that story that you just told me, I'm fairly certain that those Santas were running a train on your mom for money."

Bernie stared.

"Chew on that for a second, let that settle in," Mac added.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Mac called out a goodbye to his mother, and herded his flailing friend to the van. Bernie continued to deny the truth of the apparent holiday prostitution festivals for several miles, but finally it did indeed settle in. And he went silent. The rest of the trip to Kansas was filled with Mac trying to cheer him, mostly with liquor and candy. Bernie vomited, but it seemed the purge helped.

By the time they'd checked into a cheap motel, Bernie was renewed, more vigor than ever. Texts to Artie were filled with confidence. He placed ads in local and regional papers. He set up a website. He crafted flyers with Antonia's picture, had hundreds printed, plastered the town.

They questioned people wherever they went. Artie sent more money. Subsequently, Bernie questioned the strippers they then visited nightly, so as to make it a work expense. Though Mac did note Bernie's disinterest in the stripper called Candy Cane, who was draped in glittery garland and sported the traditional red hat of the jolly old man, Santa continued to be a non-topic.

Until.

Two particular residents of Lebanon were particularly dodgy, a pair they encountered at a diner. The tall man, whose hair Mac admired with great envy, was nothing but a collection of "Ah"-s, "Um"-s, and gulps as he stared down at the flyer Bernie had shoved into his hands. The other man, with the gruff voice and deep frown, denied all knowledge as he crumbled the flyer and threw it away, finally barking a piece of advice. Just before he climbed into a muscle car, which Mac admired with great envy, the man turned to Bernie, finger right in his face, and said:

"Why don't you go plop on Santa's lap, tell him you want your sister for Christmas, make it a real Lifetime movie moment, but we're done here, you got it?"

Bernie once more grew solemn. The duo sped away. Mac watched his friend carefully.

"Let's go to the mall," said Bernie in a low, flat voice.

Now it was Mac who gulped. "Why?"

"I think I know what happened to Toni."

It occurred to Mac where this was heading. "Bern, she didn't disappear around Christmas, I don't----"

Bernie lunged, grabbed Mac by the jacket, shook him furiously. "He's EVERYWHERE, man. He can get to ANYBODY. This is about me, this has been about me the WHOLE TIME."

"Huh?"

Before Mac knew it, the keys to the van were snatched, tires were screeching, and he barely made it into the passenger seat, and then Molly was dropped, in which Mac participated because he was, after all, a supportive friend. In a hopped-up haze they'd arrived at the mall, then as if by magic suddenly found themselves smack in the middle of it, drawn to a makeshift North Pole, staring at all the happy people in the line leading to the tree-lined stage. Bernie trembled with anger, one of the flyers clutched in his fist.

A series of flashbacks ran through his mind: the Santas bringing him presents when he was a boy; his mother joyfully escorting them upstairs; Artie, sound asleep and safe in his bed; and Toni, missing, possibly gone forever. His eyes narrowed. He saw red.

"I won't let him get to Artie," Bernie said through grit teeth.

"Bern, don't---" Mac tried, but it was for naught. Bernie had joined the line of children, his anger growing by the moment. Mac sighed and joined him.

The time finally came, and Bernie sat himself on Santa's lap.

The costumed man blinked in surprise, glancing at Mac questioningly before asking Bernie, "What would you like for Christmas, son?"

"Did you fuck his mother?"

Santa's jaw dropped for a moment, and he whispered, "What?"

"Did. You. Fuck. His. Mother."

Nearby, parents covered their children's ears.

"I don't know what you're----" Santa began, but Bernie cut him off.

"You're after my family, aren't you? What did Toni do, she try to brain-diddle you? Take down your whole racket? Expose you for what you are? A mother-fucker?"

Mac buried his face in his hands.

"Listen, son----"

"I'm not your son!" Bernie screamed. "And neither is Artie!"

"Who?"

Bernie held up the flyer. "Don't pretend like you don't know, you fat motherfucker! WHERE'S MY SISTER? I KNOW YOU TOOK MY SISTER!" Bernie turned, gesturing, addressing all the children. "HE FUCKED MY MOTHER! HE'LL FUCK YOUR MOTHERS! AND HE'LL BRING HIS ELVES TO FUCK YOUR MOTHERS, TOO, SOMETIMES THERE'LL BE FIVE AT ONCE!"

Said mothers gasped, began ushering their children away. The nearby elves were shaking their heads, bells on their caps tingling, denying the accusation. The clomping boots from the approaching security guards could be heard from all sides. Mac begged Bernie to stop, asked what Toni would think of all this.

That was when Bernie snapped. He followed Mac's advice, did think upon Toni, thought on what Toni would do. And he snarled.

Bernie bit Santa, and hard, and Santa began flailing, trying to free himself from the enraged man perched on his lap. But Bernie held tightly, continued his gnawing, and blood began to seep into the fake white beard, stream down and add a shiny glaze to the already red suit. It was so much blood, in fact, that Santa almost immediately passed out, slumping, and Bernie followed him to the floor, howling like a rabid dog. The nearby patrons were screaming, pushing, shoving, knocking into each other, desperate to get away.

Bernie's phone had gotten tossed aside in the mayhem, sliding over near Mac's feet - it rang, and he saw it was Artie, and he answered the phone, not bothering with a greeting, cutting right to the chase. "Bernie's gone bugfuck crazy!"

Saying it aloud - and seeing several security guards radioing for backup, others pulling out tasers - jolted Mac from his shock, and he snatched the back of Bernie's jacket with his free hand, wrenching him from his straddled position, dragging him off of the still, unmoving Santa.

Artie huffed, asked, "What in blazes is all that noise?"

"He attacked Santa Claus! I'm trying to get him outta here, the security guards are----"

"He WHAT?! What does bloody Father Christmas have to do with finding----"

"Bloody is right! He bit him! I think the dude is dead!"

Carols served as a backing track for their escape, Mannheim Steamroller sharp in their ears as they rushed through the shoppers, plowing them down if need be, Mac practically throwing Bernie into the back of the van, then jumping into the driver's seat and peeling out of the parking lot.

"ANSWER ME, CRETIN!"

Mac had shoved the phone into his front jacket pocket, apparently with Artie still on the line, as the boy's shrill voice was so loud he heard it despite it not being on speaker and despite the fact that Bernie was right behind him, curled into a fetal position, sucking his thumb and rocking back and forth, noisily sobbing. Mac took a hairpin turn down an alley, sirens not far enough in the distance for him to feel comfortable, and after he'd cut the engine, he dug out the phone, put it on speaker officially, and tossed it to the dashboard.

Mac ran his hands through his hair nervously, saying, "Man, this is bad. Artie, we're in real----"

"I'm done with the both of you gits. I've managed to make contact with one of mother's associates - the only one who is left from the mission to your godforsaken land. I'm told the cockney twit who always sucked up to me is dead, as is The Crone. You've been useless, I should've handled this myself from the start." Artie stopped addressing Mac, yelling out, "BERNIE?!"

Bernie sniffled. "Yeah, Art?"

"Lose. My. Number."

The call ended.

Artie's tone had been cold - frigid, in fact. It reminded him of his mother. But it especially reminded him of his sister. And that made Bernie smile.

While he packed, Artie listened to the man with the smooth voice as he detailed the plan.

".....and it will essentially give him a new existence entirely, now known as Charlie. I've already arranged for the same procedures to take place on the woman who will serve as his mother, the friend you mentioned, and his other... associates, the ones from the pub, the waitress he fancies, his financial manager. Any others can be taken care of as they pop up, but you're certain those are the only persons to whom he is close? There's no need to attend to your family?"

"They'll happily forget about Bernie on their own, no need." A pause. "Shall we just have him killed?"

"Mmmm. Such passion at so young an age."

"You disapprove?"

"No. I understand your desire for your uncle’s comeuppance. But he may be of use to you later - you must think ahead.”

“Fine,” said Artie with a disappointed sigh.

“For now, he'll believe he's always been an American living in Philadelphia. Nice, sunny life for the moron. Though, if you like, I can see to it Bernard Bevell is declared dead. A token of appreciation on my part, an official good riddance. I did cherish my time with your mother - no matter her whereabouts, she'll be missed. Lady Bevell was such a gift to all of us."

Artie stopped his packing, gave the phone a bit of side-eye. "You sound as if you're giving condolences. If Mummy is dead-----"

"My boy, we will work together to find out what exactly happened, and I will be pleased to help you exact any vengeance you deem necessary."

"And this won't inconvenience you?"

"I have some time on my hands. I'll have to pop away on occasion, but I trust your self-sufficiency. Besides, I think we have a great deal in common. I would be pleased to act as your mentor, that isn't merely a story for your grandparents."

Artie pondered on this for a moment, then said, "Yes. I do believe I'd benefit from your tutelage."

"Then it's settled. When can I expect you?"

Artie stuffed his teddy bear into his backpack, hoisted it onto his shoulder, and picked up his phone, walking out of his room and down the hallway, ignoring the muffled cries from his tied-and-gagged nanny in the closet. "I'm on my way to the airport now."

"You have suitable transportation, I take it?"

"Yes."

"Good. I look forward to your arrival, Mr. Bevell."

"Thank you, Mr. Ketch."

In the garage, Artie climbed upon his scooter and donned his helmet, then sped off, visions of motorcycles dancing in his head.

See Nash Write : Master / See Nash Write : Mobile

🏷️🏷️Wanna be tagged? Hit me up! 🏷️🏷️

Author’s Note #2: My prompt was: “Did you fuck my mom?” and as y’all could see, I changed it slightly to fit the story. You can see the clip with the set-up of the Santa issue here, and the clip of the actual confrontation with Santa (you’ll spot bits of both in that gif) from the "Sunny” ep from which it hails here.

Author's Note #3: Yes, Artie is short for Arthur.

Author's Note #4: Go with it, your suspicion is correct.

Author's Note #5: I mean it, don't doubt yourself, listen to your gut.

Author's Note #6: HE'S KETCH'S SON DAMMIT

Author's Note #7: I'm not sorry I've planted this seed in your mind.

Author's Note #8: Mwah-ah-ahahahahahaha [evil laugh]

Behold, the summoning of The Nashooligans...

@butiaintgonnaloveem @impandagrl @waywardjoy @jalove-wecallhimdean @jame-sbarnes @just-another-busy-fangirl @amanda-teaches @fanforfanatic @salt-n-burn-em-all @idreamofhazel @cyrilconnelly @rozadolphin @theblackharrystyles @carryonmycobaltangel @ilsawasanacrobat @klaineaholic @helvonasche @ericaprice2008 @amionthetumbler @tankcupcakes @littlegreenplasticsoldier @emlostinwonderland @michellethetvaddict @theoriginalvicki @ellen-reincarnated1967 @copperseraphim @mrswhozeewhatsis @crowleylovesyou @bumbleball13 @anticipate1003 @sixtysevenandwhiskey @raspberrymama @lastactiontricia @babypieandwhiskey @winchesterprincessbride @gripmetight-raisemefromperdition @roseblue373 @waterfeenix137 @thisismysecrethappyplace @fandomismyspirit @thedevilinthedetails

#Supernatural Fanfiction #SPN Fanfic #makeandilaugh #anditurns36 #Nash Writes #Queueby Dooby Doo #Dad's on a blog post and #he hasn't been queued in a few days

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satireknight · 7 years ago

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TMNT S01E04 - Hot Rodding Teenagers from Dimension X

AND... just like that, the titles started getting silly.

So the Turtles are planning to turn Baxter’s van into a mobile tracking station, using the equipment in Baxter’s lab. Is this legal? This doesn’t seem legal. I know technically they’re vigilantes, but this seems a little thefty.

So they do what anyone would do: they push the entire van up the stairs, and then Donatello rips the entire side of the van off like he was peeling an orange. Explain to me again why Michelangelo couldn’t get out of ropes in the last episode.

It also turns out that Baxter’s been arrested offscreen because “the authorities didn’t appreciate it when he tried to take over the city with his Mouser robots.” Well, that happens when you print your name on your murderous metallic T-rexes. Wait, take over the city? They didn’t do that! They just tried to kill Splinter and ate an apartment building!

Since Donatello is modifying an entire van all by himself while everyone else stands around chatting, he inevitably starts asking why THEY have to do ALL the work of stopping Shredder. I’d be asking why I have to do all the technical stuff, since presumably one of the others can work a wrench.

How has the Technodrome not completely hollowed out the area under New York, causing a catastrophic collapse?

Krang has finally had enough and is refusing to give Shredder any more new toys until Shredder ponies up a pair of opposable thumbs. Shredder acts high and mighty by saying that the body is just one of several experiments he’s doing... which includes more mutants.

I can see the benefits of a bat, since they presumably would have sonar or something like that. But why a lizard? Or a mole? How are those better than the ones you already have?

Shredder then remembers that oh yeah, Krang is from another dimension, and since that dimension is full of nonstop war, he can just get weapons from THAT place. Of course, since Krang also has an army sitting on the other side, he might end up with angry soldiers ripping his face off. Krang is somehow horrified by the idea of what might come through the portal.

In “Donatello is underappreciated” news, Donatello has just managed to whip up a personalized, highly-decorated, weaponized vehicle in mere hours. How do his bros respond to this? They want more shit like higher ceilings and pizza ovens so they can mess around while driving. Amazingly he doesn’t kill them all with his wrench set, and they careen down the stairs and straight into a fire hydrant.

Shredder is apparently expecting to just open the portal right into an armory, but instead two flying cars come zooming through. These are the Neutrinos.

And I don’t know if people will agree or not, but I’ve always hated the Neutrinos, the futuristic alien elf people, even when I was a little kid. Part of it was their voices; they always sounded like they had a sore throat. Another was the antiquated slang that they used, which... I never understood the reasons for and is kinda cringey.

But the most glaring reason for me was that they never felt like complete characters. Think about it: when you strip away the weird way they talk, what are you left with? Who are they? What shapes them as people? Answer: we don’t know, because they’re not really developed. They are all basically the same bland empty character. Kala is particularly bad, because her only narrative function is for Michelangelo to occasionally crush on her. She’s not a real character on her own.

Let’s just say I prefer the Neutrinos in the IDW comic, where they actually have some character and function instead of “we’re fun-loving teenagers and the grown-ups oppress us!”

sigh

So they’re chased by a pair of rock warriors in a flying tank, and that sounded so much more metal in my head.

Rocksteady and Bebop blow up the tank, and a firefight breaks out as the Neutrinos escape. The Rock soldiers encounter Krang, who is upset that they’re seeing him naked.... and by naked, I mean just a brain on a little wheelie stand. Apparently he “lost” his body when he was banished to Earth... although I’m not sure how or why.

And then the awkward writing kicks in: Krang and the warriors talk with horror about how the Neutrinos hate war, won’t fight, and “encourage people to have fun.” Perish the thought. Oh Lord, the heavy-handedness is making my brain hurt.

Oh hai World Trade Center. You’re making me feel awkward and a little depressed.

So the Neutrinos drive right out of a subway entrance, and the Turtles immediately start chasing them, ultimately leaping right into their cars and forcing them to land. But then they find out that the Neutrinos have no idea who Shredder is, and are just a group of shrill-voiced tiny elves who unironically use terms like “daddio.”

So the Turtles do what any person would do with alien visitors: they take ‘em to... an arcade. Why? I have no idea.

April sparks off a conversation about Dimension X, and another silly “all the grown-ups don’t want young kids like us to have fun!” conversation takes place. Look, is there any child with six brain cells who won’t feel pandered to by that sort of thing? Especially with idiotic ideas like them being chased because they trespassed on a battlefield.... um, getting onto a battlefield is its own punishment, because... you are going to die. Nobody’s going to stop fighting just to kill YOU.

Just then the Rock Warriors torpedo the building and put the scene out of my misery. By coincidence, all the humans in the building suddenly evaporate... so I’m going to assume they’re dead.

So the Neutrinos finally do something useful and start firing at the Rock Warriors, and Leonardo manages to wreck their vehicle with his amazing insta-growing sword.

That’s easily twelve feet long.

Just then the explosions, energy blasts and probable deaths of multiple people cause the police to show up. I wonder why.

Just then Leonardo mentions how weird it is that Shredder is able to connect to a different dimension.... NOW? YOU’RE GOING TO ASK THAT NOW? Shouldn’t you have asked that back before you were playing pinball and listening to the Neutrinos bitch about how mommy and daddy won’t let them zoom around in circles being obnoxious?

So yes, the Turtles finally break out of their “fun” brainfog and realize that they could be facing a global invasion, which is kind of important. It’s about time that tenuous plot finally reared its head.

“This is my Magic 8 Ball!”

No, it’s actually a weather-making device. And then they’re attacked by the NYPD, who must be really fucking jaded if they don’t react to a couple of guys apparently made out of rock.

The Neutrinos tell the Turtles and Splinter about Krang, which explains the whole talking brain thing that came up in the last episode. Wow, that might have been good information to get from them BEFORE YOU WENT TO A FUCKING ARCADE. Sorry, these characters really piss me off.

Oh, and Michelangelo is crushing in Kala. Why? Dunno, because they’ve barely interacted at ALL, so I’m going to assume it’s because she’s the only girl he’s ever encountered who isn’t way taller than him. Also, her only defining trait is that she cries.

Wait, since when did they have a hydraulic platform inside a phone booth?! How do you even instal that without people noticing?

So the Technodrome that they previously spent hours or days searching for is now something they can just drive up to, and they are able to fly those flying cars right inside with no resistance whatsoever. Of course, while Donatello is diddling with the portal, the mook squad comes in and causes trouble for them, while the other Turtles encounter Shredder, Krang and the Rock Warriors.

I have no idea why Krang is bouncing with joy. It seems premature.

Also the Technodrome has a giant floor section with vanishing panels. Why?

Finally the dimensional portal opens, which means the Neutrinos and their bad writing are going as well.

“There’s a barrel of silicone lubricant over there!” How did you know that? And why do I not want to know WHY it’s there?

“We want to stay with you, and have FUN!” Can you see why I hate this character with a passion?

The Neutrino with the gray hair says that they have to keep fighting Krang in Dimension X... which seems to go against two things we’ve been told. One is that Krang hasn’t been involved in the fighting since being banished, and the other is that the Neutrinos just mess around and don’t participate in any kind of conflict because it isn’t fuuuuuuuuuun.

So they zoom through the portal, and Michelangelo gets teary-eyed over the departure of someone he’s exchanged maybe ten words with over the span of a single day. I care sooooo much right now.

But unfortunately the weather-maker is still causing sufficiently bad weather that the ground is actually shaking. Right now there’s a friggin’ tornado in the streets.Leonardo handles it the way you’d expect - he leaps out of a flying car and almost dies so he can slice the thing in half.

And having pussed out epicly during the fight, Shredder finally throws a fit and declares that he’ll make Krang’s new body for him if Krang kills the Turtles.

And back in the Turtles’ lair, for some reason they’re back to sleeping in a quadruple bunk, while April reads them the same children’s story over and over again.

VERDICT:

This story is a big step down from the previous three, partly because it feels so schizophrenic. Parts of it, like that bedtime-story ending and the Neutrinos whining, feel incredibly juvenile and pandering to the child audience. But the other half is an actual threat of alien invasion and a dangerous weapon.

And the two don’t mesh very well, which often makes it feel like the important plot is being sidelined for kiddie antics. It really just sticks out, especially since the characters we’ve been shown are not really the kind to respond to serious new developments by just kicking back in an arcade.

I already ranted about the Neutrinos and what shallow half-characters they are, but I gotta say again, they don’t really add much of anything to the story beyond a shallow insta-crush, infodumpage and some aerial action scenes.

One thing that was much better in this episode is the animation, which has stepped back up from the last episode. And it has some nice moments like the police and military taking on the Rock Warriors, which gave us some good conflict and a sense that the world outside is bigger than just the Turtles and their issues.

Speaking of their issues, despite my bitching it was kinda fun to see the origins of their van, even if poor Donatello remains horribly underappreciated. He’s the kind of guy who could build a particle accelerator out of toaster parts, and people would complain because it doesn’t have an embedded clock.

Grade: C-

#tmnt #tmnt 1987 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #satireknight #donatello #michelangelo #raphael #leonardo

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sheepydraws · 7 years ago

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I'll Kick Your Ass! I'll Kick My Fiancee's Ass! I'll Kick My Own Ass! (7/11)

Last Chapter

Next Chapter

The Three Weeks Before Winter Break:

QUIET ZONE

NO TALKING, EATING, OR MUSIC BEYOND THIS POINT.

PLEASE BE RESPECTFUL OF OTHER LIBRARY GOERS.

From: Ghostsunkgi

To: TKuno

I got plenty of info for you about Nabiki Tendo:

The Basics: Birthdate, family, hometown.

The Social Media: Got her facebook, linked in, instagram, and two tumblr accounts (cute aesthetic one, fandom one).

The Personal: Movies she likes, hobbies, possible phobias, relationships she’s been in, etc. and it’s all in the attached document.

I’m going to be upfront about this, though, and say that I’m sorry. I couldn’t find any life ruining stuff. I heard the school’s investigated her once or twice, but they couldn’t find anything. I thought I could get you some proof that she’s doing something illegal enough to warrant getting the authorities involved, but turns out the prescription medication she sells is hormonal stuff. Testosterone, birth control, nothing the cops would actually want to check out.

However, as a psyc major, I can offer you a rudimentary psychological profile. I believe that Nabiki’s obsession with money stems from her family. They are well-to-do, but not particularly well off, and after losing her mother at a young age Nabiki is constantly craving stability. Now, since she is a very smart girl she does not see stability as something akin to stagnation, but rather focuses on earning money so that no matter what happens she doesn’t have to fear that she will suddenly lose all of life’s little comforts. She is not a sociopath, nor a narcissist, but does focus on herself, and what might happen to her in the outcome of any scenario. As such she is not as much of a risk taker as her little storefront might suggest.

I believe, if you wish to manipulate her you focus on either giving or depriving her of money, or otherwise very directly threatening or aiding her way of life.

From: TKuno

To: Ghostsunkgi

I did not ask for a goddamn psychological profile, I asked you to find out something about Nabiki Tendo that, if exposed, could ruin her life. I am out almost two hundred dollars and you have told me nothing I couldn’t have told you!

From Ghostsunkgi

To TKuno

Good thing you didn’t want a psychological profile, because if I wrote one on you all it would say is that you’re batshit crazy.

Facebook Messenger:

Ukyo: Hey, are you okay?

Ryoga: I’m fine.

Ukyo: I feel like I haven’t seen you since before thanksgiving. I haven’t even heard if you had fun at Shampoo’s!

Ryoga: It was fine. We watched a lot of lame stuff on the internet and I got to know her family a little. It was fine.

Ukyo: Oh my god. You wrote ‘it was fine’ twice. Did someone die?

Ryoga; No. It was boring. Nothing happened.

Facebook Messenger:

Ukyo: Do you have time to catch lunch with me?

Shampoo: Can’t.

Ukyo: Did something happen over thanksgiving break?

Shampoo: No. It was fine. Thanksgiving isn’t really a big deal for my family.

Ukyo: You mean absolutely nothing happened? Not one dumb story to tell me over dinner?

Shampoo: Nothing that’s worth taking time off studying to talk about. Ukyo, I’m swamped. Maybe we could have lunch this weekend.

Ukyo: Fine.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Dear Akari,

I can’t wait to see you again. Things here are so strange. I want to say it’s the lack of parental supervision, but I can’t anymore.

I hope things aren’t this crazy at your school. People beating each other up, and always upset, and no one you can talk to because you’re kind of ashamed of yourself and who wants to talk to you when even you hate yourself?

Remember high school? Drama only in the carefully allotted time slots between classes? Teachers telling you to apologize? Throwing pencil cases to your friends and watching them burst open, spilling highlighters and pencils and a million little slips of paper, and just laughing?

I really can’t wait to be home. I want to lie on my bed and….That’s it. Lie on my bed and listen to the silence. The rain. The occasional car rolling by. I want to lie down and sleep and let everything flow around me for a while.

And then maybe you and I could get some dinner.

Miss you.

Facebook Messenger

Ranma: Hey, Nabiki, can you lend me fifty bucks?

Nabiki: Ahahahahaha

Ranma: Please? I’ll pay you back. I just don’t have much right now, and I don’t want to use my card and have dad see the charge.

Nabiki: Hahahahahahahaha

Ranma: I know we’re not close, but you’re the only person I’m on good terms with who could just drop fifty bucks.

Nabiki: WAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Ranma: I’m trying to get my birth certificate and it costs fifty bucks.

Nabiki: Okay, I’m no longer uninterested, but I still don’t want to be involved, so I tell you what, give me fifty bucks, I’ll send in the fifty for the certificate, with my card or whatever. K?

Ranma: Got it.

A piece of paper, passed back and forth over the walls of two study corrals:

Sorry to intrude, but are you crying?

Yeah.

Stress?

No. Yes. The stress isn’t helping, but honestly, I’ve felt awful since the 25th. I fucked up. Can I tell you about it?

I don’t mind, but if you tell me something super personal I’ll feel like I have to tell you something.

Really? You go first. Then you can say whatever you feel comfortable saying, and it doesn’t have to be as fucked up and intense as my thing.

Okay. I got my first kiss at a halloween party this year, with some dude I don’t even know, and I feel kind of guilty, but mostly pissed that I didn’t get his name before he left.

You got masked man-ed! Was he wearing a tuxedo mask costume?

No. Batman.

Damn. Then I could have told you who he was. I gave Ryoga that costume so he could try and seduce Akane Tendo, but I think he fucked up and seduced someone else or something.

You know Ryoga Hibiki?

Sure. Fuck. He’s kind of why I’m all messed up. I kissed him, even though I know he has a girlfriend so that he would beat up a guy for me, and that guy tried to gut him, so I beat his face in, and now he’s not talking to me, Ryoga can’t look at me, and I can’t look at Ukyo because what kind of person am I?

Christ. You’re right, that is fucked up, but it takes at least two people for a total fuck up. I mean, that Ryoga guy has a girlfriend, and was going after that other girl AND you.

No, this was my fault. I invited Ryoga over cause I thought it would be an easy way to avoid Mousse, and then I kissed him cause I thought he could solve my Mousse problem permanently, and then things went crazy, and now there is no easy way out.

There never is. Even doing nothing, keeping your mouth shut, pretending everything’s alright for the sake of convenience—That sounds like the easy way, but it’s so fucking hard it hurts.

I know you’re right, but doing stuff is hard too.

Well, you did something about your Mousse problem. I have a feeling he’s not bugging you anymore?

Ha. You’re right. Our mom’s are fighting fit to kill each other-your daughter beat up my son, your son had a knife!-but at least they agree that we should be kept apart.

Is that better than how it was?

Yeah. I wish it hadn’t gone down like that, though.

That’s what happens when you just leave things to build and build.

Guess that means I should go talk to Ukyo and Ryoga before things get stupid like that. You sound like you really have your life together.

Please. I’m engaged, fantasizing about a guy I met once, and just realized that I might have to ‘break up with’ a guy who I thought was my friend. And that’s just my love life. I’ve still got a couple hours worth of studying to do, but I’m going back to my room and crashing so I can get some sleep in before dinner.

PS: I won’t tell Ryoga you’re the one who told me about all this. Sounds like you two already have plenty to work out together.

From: TKuno

To: Nabiki Tendo

Dear Nabiki,

Thanks to the services of a hired man undertaken over thanksgiving break, I know your devastating secret.

From: Nabiki Tendo

To: TKuno

Man, I left you to stew, but I didn’t think you would boil over. Oh, how would I live if word ever got out? Kuno, please don’t tell anyone.

From TKuno

To Nabiki Tendo

I suppose if you can agree to never release those photos, I could conveniently take another blow to the head and forget everything I have learned about you, no matter how disgusting.

From Nabiki Tendo

To TKuno

OH MY GOD

You think I’ve never heard a bluff before? You have nothing on me, and you want to know how I know it?

Face facts Kuno-babe: You fucked up, and you can’t get back at me because I’ve played it cleaner than you. You couldn’t keep yourself in check, just had to do some dumb shit. Forget getting kicked off the kendo team—You realize you could be expelled for dueling? And you keep doing it! You fucking idiot! Do you know how many pictures and videos I have of that?

You break rules all the time and expect never to get caught, not even because daddy is the dean, but because you actually think you’re that much better than everyone.

While you’re off getting wasted, and falling for cheap lines like ‘I bet you work out’ and ‘I love that drama. The twist with the princess and the accountant? Never saw it coming!’ I’ve been working my ass off, not only making money, but also keeping my head above water. Maybe I have done something which you could get me for legally, but you’ll never have proof.

I didn’t outsmart you, hun, I just waited for you to fuck yourself and filmed it.

From: TKuno

To: Nabiki Tendo

I know you must be enjoying cackling maniacally at me like a b-villain, but may I ask you one question?

From Nabiki Tendo

To TKuno

Yes, I do hate you, and I have always hated you, and that reveal that the princess was banging the accountant was tired as fuck. You know who should diddle the numbers guy? The courtesan. Not only did they have chemistry, but they could have had an actual relationship, based on being greedy and underhanded in their various professions.

From TKuno

To Nabiki Tendo

1. You missed the point, as expected, you heartless wench. Of course those two could have a sleazy relationship based on being sleazy. That’s what made hime and the accountant such a satisfying twist. Not only are they different, but they appreciate each other’s differences, so they make each other better while also having a good relationship based on the things they do have in common.

2. Why didn’t you just give my father the photos of me dueling?

From Nabiki Tendo

To TKuno

1. They had nothing in common. You’re blowing hot air out of your dirty shipper mouth.

2. I don’t answer to you.

Kodachi’s Journal

The flurry of leaves finishing falling

Freshmen frolicking

Among unwritten essays and cans of ersatz energy

Studying between practice

Practice between studying?

Sleeping between eating and rising.

Ranma

Respite

Ten fumbling minutes in a hall closet

In which I barely tasted you, my darling cream puff

But your mind was elsewhere

Fifty bucks to try and find your mother

Fifty dollars to your family

I gave it to you, of course.

I tried to explain

How I envied you

The toll to visit my own mother two gold coins

And my life

But now

Stretching on the balance beam

I wonder if your hands were not a touch grabby?

That is

Were you groping my ass

Or the outline of my wallet?

Ukyo’s phone———> Ryoga and Shampoo’s Phone

911 URGENT.

HELP.

OUR ROOM.

QUICK.

Ranma’s phone——>Nabiki’s phone

Got ur fifty.

My room.

ASAP.

Ranma’s Diary.

I can’t believe it.

Why did I never think I had a mother? I never even asked. There’s so much stuff where the mothers have that vague, ‘cancer-car-crash-itis’ that I guess they filled in the blanks for me.

That or I’m just stupid.

I can’t believe Nabiki is sitting at my desk, filing out a few forms that might get me to my mother. I can’t believe I have one. I can’t believe I’m doing this to myself. What if she—

I’m trying not to think past imagining getting the certificate in my mail box. Hopefully it comes before the break starts, but I don’t think waiting till January will kill me.

My stomach aches like it will, but I’ve survived worse.

Speaking of surviving, I can’t believe I had a conversation with Ukyo and didn’t die. I think I’ve even impressed myself with that trick.

I was jogging, because Nabiki told me she wouldn’t have time for me until after lunch, and if I worked up a sweat then I could take a shower, without feeling like I was doing it just to scrub Kodachi off of me. (I can’t believe I kissed a girl for fifty bucks).

I tripped over Ukyo’s bag. She was leaned up against a tree and I think maybe she had been crying? I mean, I think she was upset before she saw me, but whatever. She was pissed, rubbing her bag and snapping at me. I didn’t want to waste time getting into an argument with her—and how could I fit ANOTHER duel into my busy schedule?—so I said,

“Are you okay?”

She got this weird look on her face. Sad, and confused, and a little angry about being confused. “Like you care.”

“Of course I care. I mean, you’re crying in the woods in December. It’s worrying.”

“So? It’s not going to keep you up at night.”

I was trying really hard not to get pissed off, so I swear when I said, “Don’t tell me what I think. Yell at me, call me names, kick my face in, but don’t try to talk for me,” it wasn’t an invitation.

“Your silence speaks volumes, Ranma.”

“Wait, is this about breaking up with you?” I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of that, but at the same time, I can’t believe she’s still so burned up over it.

“No, it’s because you didn’t go to prom with me, and because we aren’t going to buy our first legal drinks together, and because you never gave a shit about my feelings then, so I don’t get why you’re pretending to now.”

Fuck it, I’m a fighter. She was looking for a fight.

“I didn’t care about your feelings? I broke up with to save those fucking things! I didn’t want you to be hurt, so I told you the truth and that I still loved you, but I had to do this.

You’re the one who wouldn’t talk to me. You’re the one who MAILED my stuff to me. We saw each other every day, but you couldn’t even drive to my house and ding-dong-ditch me! You never asked if I was okay, you never took my calls, I tried to protect you from this huge, stupid thing in my life and you made it all about you!”

Ukyo threw her bag aside so hard it cracked against a tree and all her shit spilled out, but she was too busy getting up in my face and screaming at me to care. “You’re the one who decided that if your father wants you to MARRY someone you’re going to do it! You’re the one who didn’t fight for me! You’re the one who thought if you told me why you were breaking up with me somehow that would mean we weren’t broken up!”

I shoved her back. “It’s not like you fought for me either!”

Ukyo slammed her hands into my chest and sent me to the ground. “What would I have done?! Challenged your father to a fight? Called child protective services? For fuck’s sake, Ranma, we were children!”

I haven’t cried since…When Ukyo knocked me down something about the way I fell, the way I hit the ground, the way the dirt smelled and my teeth clacked together, it reminded me of falling down as a kid. I’ve been trained to fall down so it doesn’t hurt. To roll or bend to minimize the blow. You know how my father taught me that? By pushing me down.

I started crying. So loud and hard I couldn’t breathe. I haven’t cried like that since I was a kid. An even littler kid. ‘Cause Ukyo was right. We were kids. And maybe we still are. Maybe we’ll always be unfinished and confused, and we’ll try our best but our best will always be half of what we need to get by.

“I-I-I wanted you to move on!” I hiccuped. “I wanted you to know it wasn’t you!”

Ukyo kneeled next to me and hovered for a moment before picking up my hands and holding them in hers. She was crying too. “If you loved me so much how could you ditch me like that?”

“I c-called you, and I tried to talk to you. I didn’t want to ruin our relationship by being engaged.”

“Well, it’s fucking ruined!” and then we both laughed. Painful, hiccupy laughs, interrupted by snorting back all the snot from crying and being outside when it was that cold.

I can’t believe Ukyo and I screwed each other like that. Shut down and tried to pretend we didn’t care and basically gave each other a knife to the heart.

We managed to calm down and Ukyo let go of my hands.

“So there isn’t something about me that makes people want to dump me? Something that scares people away?”

I shook my head. “Hell, you should have been trying to get away from me.”

Ukyo smiled a little and said, “It’s nice having a guy willing to fight anything that moves on your side. And I really loved you.”

Past tense.

“I loved you too.” But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck that it’s over. It doesn’t make it okay, but I guess it makes it right.

Ukyo stood up and helped me up. I didn’t need help, but it felt nice for some reason. Like when my dad would pour me juice even though I could have done it myself. It tasted a little better.

“I think there’s something I have to do.” Ukyo said. Something in her voice told me it had nothing to do with me.

“Is your number still the same?” I asked anyway.

Ukyo looked sort of surprised, but she said yes.

“Can I call you? If something happens, or maybe just to talk?”

“Yeah. And I’ll even pick up.”

Then Ukyo went off to do her mysterious thing, and I went back to my room, glad to still be alive.

Okay, Nabiki said it’ll be here in a couple of weeks. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

From TKuno

To Ghostsungki

Just writing to say you should re-think your major. Your profile was wrong. There is something Nabiki Tendo values more than herself.

Not Anal

I found Ryoga leaving the library (He’d been in the part where you’re allowed to talk. Says silence freaks him out) and he was all freaked out, asking me if I knew why Ukyo would send an emergency text. I had been trying not to get too worked up, but with Royga already panicking I gave in, and we ran over to my dorm.

We burst into my room, expecting a pool of blood or a shattered laptop or something.

Ukyo was sitting on our beds, which she had pushed together and piled with all our blankets and pillows on so you couldn’t feel the gap where the frames touch but the matresses don’t. She was wearing a flannel shirt and sweatpants, and when she stood up you could see that she had only buttoned two buttons on her shirt. I won’t tell you which buttons, but just imagine it being incredibly hot.

Ukyo opened her closet door and said, “Okay, put your bags in there.”

Royga and I stared at her.

“I thought there was an emergency.” Ryoga said.

“Where did I say that?” Ukyo pulled her phone out of her pocket and read over it. “Nope. No emergency. No problem. I just told you to come quick.”

“So what’s going on?” I asked.

“I am going to set an alarm, and for the next two hours the three of us aren’t going to do anything school related. We’re just going to relax and do whatever we want.” For the first time she looked a little nervous. “You two have been so stressed since thanksgiving. I figured it was because you didn’t do any work over the break and you’re swamped now, but I’m calling a time out so you two can get some self care done.”

“I kissed Ryoga.” I said. I let my backpack fall off my shoulder and kicked it into the closet.

“It was stupid.” Ryoga said, tossing his bag into the closet and closing it. “I mean, it didn’t mean anything. I mean-“ I touched his shoulder and he stopped.

“It doesn’t matter.” I said to Ukyo, “Because now I’m going to kiss you to make it even.”

I am a woman of my word. I knew I was going to do it, but I was kind of surprised that Ukyo let me. I thought I would just say it and that would be peace offering enough, but she didn’t stop me when I put my arms around her neck, so I got on my tip-toes and my brain went ‘fuck it’ and I laid one on her. I think her knees gave out a little. Someone’s did.

Ryoga popping open a bag of chips startled us, but it didn’t ruin the mood. The mood wasn’t ‘having sex with your roommate’ it was stretching out on a bed and taking a deep breath while Ukyo made fun of Ryoga for liking cozy mysteries. Cozy mystery—maybe that was the feeling. Warm and safe and somewhat luxurious lying on a bed made plush with three extra blankets. Comfortable, even with bare branches tapping at the window and finals looming in the back of our minds.

This is probably a bad idea. Someone already trying to be in two relationships at once, and someone who doesn’t believe in love—I couldn’t have chosen worse people to fall for.

But as I sit here typing this, waiting to get tired enough to go to sleep with Ukyo and Ryoga-the two hour plan got kicked in favor of naps-I feel the best I’ve felt in weeks. Bone deep calm, radiating outward so all that other bullshit can’t touch me.

Akari’s phone———->Ryoga’s phone

Hun, what time do

you get in at

heathrow?

8pm

When do you get

on the plane?

The first one? Around noon.

Akari, I know you won’t be at

the airport, but I want to see

you as soon as possible.

I know. I want to

see you even

sooner. <3

From TKuno

To: Nabiki Tendo

Dear Nabiki Tendo,

If you show those photos to anyone, please consider that the very next day three different people will be sitting in my fathers office to attest that Ranma Saotome has been involved in several duels. His expulsion will be quick and clean.

Your Loyal Sparring Partner,

Tatewaki Kuno

The Tendo House

Latest Video: Personal Blog—Channel Direction

The video opens in Kasumi’s bedroom. She is sitting on her bed, hands restlessly picking over the ruffle on a throw pillow. Her color is high, her eyes bright like she might have a fever. Her voice shakes somewhere between crying and cackling.

Kasumi: Ah…I’ve tired to open this video so many times. I even considered shooting one in advance and just uploading that whenever I—But I realized that was just wishful thinking and wouldn’t actually be helpful when the time came.

Now I’ve been holding back on recording this. I wanted to be…sure.

(Kasumi takes a deep breath. Her expression becomes a touch more serious. She has been planning for this moment for a long time, though she is not sure if she will ever tell how much)

I’m three months pregnant.

[Akane, Nabiki, and Soun Tendo never saw the rest of this video.]

From: Nabiki Tendo

To: TKuno

Sorry, Kuno-babe, I don’t think we’ll be ‘sparring’ for a while.

I have pregnant fish to fry.

Consider yourself dangling, but still hooked.

The Stunning,

Nabiki Tendo.

Akane’s Diary:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

SHE DIDN’T EVEN TELL ME.

I’m not even mad exactly??? It’s that feeling when you watch a video and someone does something so awful, but it’s so unexpected and so not your problem that your mouth hangs open in horror, but you choke and laugh at the same time.

Maybe if I write this down my chest will stop shaking.

I went to Ryoga’s after my calc final to see if that girl in the library had been telling the truth about Ryoga having a girlfriend and/or liking me. I knew Ranma would be tied up at our calc final for another hour. (Ranma is one of those freaks who takes the entire time given, even though getting to leave as soon as you’re done is THE perk of college).

I watched Ryoga pack for a while. We chatted, but it was mostly me asking him questions so he would talk and I could just sit there and think.

He’s not bad looking, Ryoga. His hair is always messed up, but not always in a rakish british pop star kind of way. Still, he’s got nice eyes, and broad shoulders, and, you know, two arms and two legs and a head.

That’s how I feel about him, I guess. He’s a guy, and he’s good looking, and even if he’s thinking about cheating on his girlfriend I’m pretty sure he hasn’t, so I wouldn’t say he’s a bad guy.

But there I was, watching him, thinking: ‘If that girl was right, I could get up, and sit on the edge of his bed and kiss him’. That’s what I was picturing. A good girlfriend move, perching on his bed, and wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss.

Imagining it filled me with an overwhelming sensation of…meh.

Ryoga’s a good guy, but there’s nothing about him that sets him apart. Nothing that made me want to do that cute little girlfriend thing for him, or push him down and do things that would make his cheap-ass mattress beg for mercy.

I went to his room thinking I would confront him, but for what? Thought crimes? Even if he has a girlfriend and he cheats on her, it sure won’t be with me.

That was when Ranma burst into the room. He threw his backpack onto his bed and spun around to leave, but froze when he saw me.

“Akane, have you seen the latest video on Kasumi’s blog?”

I stared at him. His expression was very strange. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to console or congratulate me.

“I saw the one she posted in November…” I said, sure he was talking about something else.

Ranma hopped up to sit on Ryoga’s desk and put his phone on his knee, which was eye level for me. He hit play.

Ranma knew my sister was pregnant before me.

I was sitting in his room thinking about how much I don’t care if some guy has a crush on me, and Ranma is getting a youtube notification telling him that my sister is pregnant. I’m not mad about that it, it just feels wrong somehow.

I immediately tried to call Kasumi, and when she didn’t pick up I redialed twice. I sent her four texts, then one to Nabiki.

My finger hovered over dad’s number.

“So you didn’t know about this?” Ranma asked.

I realized I had a thousand yard stare and tried to focus on Ranma’s face “No. I had no idea.”

Ranma nodded. “I figured. You or Nabiki would have told me if you did. The three of you are always so…proud of each other.”

I have no idea what that meant. Ranma looked melancholy. Or maybe just maudlin. That’s a good word to have around, maudlin. Then he smiled at me and I lost my train of thought.

It’s not the time to think about it, but that’s not a good sign is it? Watching Ryoga in a tight t-shirt, bending and stretching and shoving while he packs, but when Ranma, hair unbrushed, a gi shirt hanging off of him like a jacket, smiles at me my brain goes on the fritz?

Nabiki still has cramming to do, and there isn’t much to talk about since Kasumi hasn’t spoken to either of us. We’ve tried to contact her every way short of smoke signals (and don’t think Nabiki wouldn’t get on the roof and light something on fire if she thought it would get a reaction) but it seems like we won’t be getting any answers until we get home on thursday.

Ranma came back to my room with me to ‘help me study’ but we don’t have any exams tomorrow, and thank god, since I can’t concentrate to save my life. Ranma is lying on my bed eating my secret stash of chips and leafing through my even secreter stash of cosmos, while I try to get all my questions in order.

Why? Who’s the father? Can we actually afford a baby? Why aren’t you talking to us? Have you told dad? When are you going to tell dad? Where is it going to sleep? Do I still have to marry Ranma? Oh, god, don’t make me marry Ranma, I think I might be starting to LIKE him. Especially when he laughs, nearly chokes on my chips, and then reads whatever weird fragment he found funny out loud. Kasumi, don’t do this to me.

Last five posts from okinomiyakimeansiloveyou.tumblr.com

5. A Youtube video about making really cute gift baskets with homemade sweets.

4. Lingerie sets. Not just bras and panties (and teddies and stockings and…) but some very neat looking briefs made from high end material.

3. Tasteful, but still extremely erotic nude drawings (especially if you are of the Georgia O’Keefe persuasion).

2. A picture of Ryoga and Shampoo speaking in the vestibule of the girl’s dorm, the world starkly white and black through the huge glass doors. They don’t look like they know their picture is being taken. Ryoga has a duffel bag over his shoulder and Shampoo is hefting it’s weight in her hand. She’s about the drop it back onto his shoulder and watch him stagger, but you can’t tell in the photo. One of Ryoga’s hands rests on the handle of her tiny, shiny, purple suitcase. They look good together, and the lighting is nice, somehow, between the fluorescents and the glaring winter sun, and, and it’s a good photo, and Ukyo posts it to prove that she knows that, and that she doesn’t care about the twinges in her chest when she looks at it.

1. That feel when you think you’re heartsick or something, but you just need a tums. #personal #everything’s even #they’re not going to do anything #nothing ever changes over winter break anyway

#ranma 1/2 #rankane #ranma saotome #fanfiction #college au #akane tendo #shampoo #nabiki tendo #kasumi tendo #pregnancy ment

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