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brokeitwiththepowerofmathamatics · 2 years ago

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Holiday Truce Fanfic - Pharaoh of the Kitchen

This is a gift fic for @mostlikelynothuman this isn’t what I usually write but I hope you like it!

Pharaoh of the Kitchen (Ao3)

Tucker might not be the most popular guy around, but that's a very different story compared to when he's in the kitchen.

Tucker usually didn’t feel like a king. He, along with his two best friends, were not in the popular crowd. Unlike his previous incarnation, he didn’t have dozens of people waiting on him, nor legions of devoted subjects desperate for his attention. Even when it came to tech, he didn’t feel like a king. That was more like being a kid in a candy store.

But here, in this place, he wasn’t just a king.

He was a god.

Tucker wrapped the apron around himself and tied it behind his back before reaching for the pans and placing them on the stove. He was careful not to make too much noise. Sam was a creature of the night, not a morning person, and Danny needed as much sleep as he could possibly get.

Jazz walked into the kitchen, pausing as she passed through the threshold. “Oh, Tucker, you’re up?”

Tucker winced at the volume of her voice. “Yup!” Tucker responded, making a point to whisper and pointing at the stovetop. “Working on breakfast before everyone wakes up.”

Jazz hesitated, looking between the fridge and the cupboard where the cereal boxes were. She smiled hesitantly at Tucker before lowering her voice as well. “Any chance I could ask you to make enough for me, too?”

Tucker pointed at the drawer that every kitchen winds up with eventually, the junk drawer, and said, “If you’re cool with making sure the sausages and bacon don’t come alive again, then sure!” She didn’t need to know that he always planned on making enough for everyone. With meat that could potentially bite back, he needed all the help he could get.

A god never shares everything he knows, after all.

Jazz smiled and made her way over to the drawer. She tended to act more mature than her age, but Tucker could see that she was moving a bit faster than usual in her excitement, a more childish swing in her step.

Everyone in the Fenton family knew he was a damn good cook, especially when it came to breakfast meats.

Once there, she pulled out an ecto-pistol from underneath a pile of tangled string, loose scissors, and a jar of dubious green fluid. Every house may have a junk drawer, but only the Fentons would keep theirs stocked with anti-ecto weaponry. Jazz flicked the power on, and the weapon began to let out a hum.

Tucker stopped and looked back. “Keep the power down,” he ordered, “Don’t want to wake up Sam or Danny.”

Jazz rolled her eyes and let out a sigh, sounding more put out than she actually was. She twisted a dial on the side of the gun, and the hum stopped ringing out. She then made her way across the kitchen and opened the fridge door before actually putting her finger on the trigger.

And proceeded to fire three shots.

“We really need to fix that ecto-contamination problem…” Jazz muttered before letting out an undignified squawk and then firing another shot. She shot Tucker a glare, “Wouldn’t have needed to do that if I kept the gun on full power.”

Tucker held out a hand and made gimme motions. “Yeah, well, you’re the one saying Danny needs to get a better sleep schedule.”

Jazz huffed and pulled out the now, once again, dead sausages, along with the other various breakfast packages left with them, like the thankfully normal bacon, and handed them over to Tucker before shutting the door. “And you’re the one who asked for my help. Is that all you needed?”

“Can you hand me the almond milk too?”

Jazz hesitated at that, glancing over at Tucker, taken aback at him requesting the vegan option, but went back into the fridge and got what he requested. He measured out a cup and put it on the counter. “Mind putting the carton on the table, and then getting started on coffee?”

“At this point, I’ll be making the entire meal,” Jazz complained but obliged. “Danny’s coffee? The hyper-caffeinated stuff? Or the family’s?”

“Well, it’s for Sam so…”

“That doesn’t answer it as well as you think it does, but I want coffee too.” Jazz said, laughing. She moved around him to get the coffee.

Tucker hummed and went back to his task at hand. It wasn’t long until the kitchen began to come alive (and for once, not because of ghosts) with the sound of bacon sizzling and the coffee dripper running.

“Ah, the smell of roasting dead flesh in the morning,” Sam said sardonically, wandering in. She was still wearing her PJs, thick cotton pants, and a threadbare sweater. She shuffled over to the kitchen table and slid into a chair, and groaned as she laid her head out on the table.

“You’re up early,” Jazz acknowledged.

“You left the blinds open in your room,” Sam groaned. “Jazz, why did you leave the blinds open? If I had known you were going to do that, I would have put up with Danny and Tucker’s snoring!"

Tucker scoffed. “You can sleep through ghost attacks, but not Danny’s snoring?”

Sam turned and fixed Tucker with a glare that made him fear he was about to get added to her body count, along with Danny. “His snoring? Yes. Yours? No.”

“Oh, I left them open? My mistake,” Jazz said brightly, her apology not at all convincing. “Well, it’s good you’re moving toward a normal sleep schedule.”

“I am a creature of the night. I don’t do mornings.” Sam sighed and started moving to get up.

“Don’t bother,” Tucker interrupted her, moving to get a mug out of the cupboard. He poured her a cup of coffee and put it in front of her. “Here you go, coffee as black as your soul.”

Jazz smirked and shook her head, standing up. “I’m grabbing the newspaper,” she announced.

Sam hesitated. “Is this Danny’s coffee or…”

“No, it’s the family’s coffee,” Jazz said, shaking her head.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief and then took a sip of the coffee before letting out a contented sigh.

After she left, and when Sam knew Tucker wasn’t going to turn around, Sam reached for the open carton of almond milk and poured a dash into her coffee and then another. She took another sip and then smiled before looking up.

“You know that a lot of those processed meats can cause cancer, right?” Sam snipped from the table.

Tucker laughed. “Well, I’m here for a good time, not for a long time.” He knew she had a few more off-handed comments to make before it was out of her system.

“Too early for me to break up this argument again,” a voice cut in. Both Tucker and Sam turned to see Danny stumbling into the kitchen. He floated, quite literally as his feet were about a half inch above the ground, to the cabinet and pulled out a chipped mug with a fading NASA logo stamped on it before making his way to the coffee machine.

He poured himself a mug and then took a sip. He narrowed his eyes and looked down at the mug in disgust. “This isn’t my coffee, is it?”

“Nope,” Was the reply from Sam and Tucker in stereo.

“Rude…” Danny muttered, sitting down at the table.

“Danny…” Sam began, “Tucker made everyone coffee. You’re being rude.”

Danny’s sleepy face scrunched up as if to argue before relaxing, seeming to realize his error. "It’s not my coffee…" Danny grumbled under his breath.

Tucker rolled his eyes and pushed Danny to the table and out of his way. "Sit down and drink the weak coffee. We can make your pot when this one finishes."

"'kay…" Danny muttered, sitting at the table. He yawned and tried covering his mouth, though he couldn't quite hide it with the way it stretched unnaturally.

Sam glanced up at Tucker with a frown before looking at Danny. "You okay there?"

Danny shook his head. "Just really tired. Box Ghost was being a bigger annoyance than normal. I shoved him back into the ghost zone twice while you two were asleep."

Jazz walked into the kitchen holding a newspaper and her laptop. At the mention of the Box Ghost, she looked back to the foyer and up the stairs toward their parents’ rooms to ensure that they were still asleep. After seemingly being satisfied with the lack of motion upstairs, she opened the newspaper and handed Danny the comic section. "Just twice? I thought I heard you moving around more than that."

Danny shrugged with a small smile. "Third time, I left him in the thermos." He sipped the coffee and sighed wistfully.

Tucker rolled his eyes and grabbed a couple of thermoses from one of the cupboards and poured the remains of the coffee pot into the two of them. He then reached in the back of the cupboard, past the teas and the large Folgers coffee can to find a small 1-pound bag of coffee in a black bag with a strip of masking tape on it, with “Danny’s. DO NOT DRINK” written on it in sharpie.

Tucker measured out several teaspoons and put it in the coffee maker. He didn’t have time to start it before he had to jump back over to the stove to flip the pancakes. He then jumped into the cupboard and grabbed the rosemary that Maddie kept near the front. It was a little old, and back from her experiments of trying to figure out a ghost poison. She had read the stories from Jack Fentonightingale’s diary that it was supposed to calm and relax spirits, and she assumed it was a poison.

It wasn’t poison, and it did relax the ghosts as Fentonightingale said, but she and Jack believed it was a trick and so she wrote the experiment off as a failure.

But it turned out Danny loved the stuff (for obvious reasons), so she kept the stuff around. He sprinkled some of that into the coffee grounds before starting to brew Danny his own coffee.

It didn’t take long before Danny started to sit up. He sniffed the air, trying to catch what exactly had changed, but using his human senses didn’t help him identify the change in the room at all. His tongue ran over his lips and then muttered. “Tucker… what are you cooking?”

“Breakfast,” Tucker said, plating a bunch of bacon and pulling a couple of pancakes out of a pan. He put them in front of Danny, which caused Jazz to perk up and put away the newspaper. He turned back to the coffee dripper, which had just finished outputting the over-caffeinated coffee. He poured a mug of it and then put it and the pot next to Danny. “Here you go, for I am a generous god.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “If he thinks making us breakfast makes him a god…”

Danny cut Sam off with a cackle and grabbed the mug. “Oh, thank goodness! The stuff you drink is so weak.” He took a sip and let out a happy sigh before pausing and tilting his head.

Tucker filled up another plate, but this time he placed it right in front of Sam. Sam blinked a couple of times, staring down at the plate in front of her, completely uncomprehending what she was seeing. She growled and glared at Tucker. “Tucker, you know I’m vegan.”

Tucker tilted his head. He could take the high road, but Sam literally had walked into his domain and started giving him crap about his eating habits. So instead, he just smirked and said, “I know.”

In retrospect, the smugness he put into that was probably not a good idea. Sam folded her arms and snapped. “Tucker, is it really that hard to respect me? I mean, come on!”

Tucker held up a finger. “I mean, I could say the same thing. After all, you were very happy to tell me that I’m gonna die of a cancer this morning.”

Sam blushed in anger, but before she could say anything, Danny slammed his hands down on the table. “Hey! No fighting this morning!”

Sam and Tucker both jumped as Jazz put a hand on Danny's shoulder. Tucker chewed on his lip as Danny rubbed his face. “Seriously, guys… how many times have we been over this? I’m so tired. Play nice, okay?”

“Sorry, Danny,” Tucker apologized immediately. He held up a hand to cut off anything that Sam would have said. “That’s my bad. Sam wasn’t being mean earlier. I escalated.” He shrugged and pointed at the food in front of Sam. “Also, that’s all vegan.”

Sam blinked and looked down at the food. “Seriously? You can cook vegan?”

Tucker chuckled. “I mean, it’s not that hard. The sausages are just prepackaged things anyways.”

Sam pointed past Tucker at the stovetop. “Yeah, sure, those are, but I saw you make the pancakes from scratch.”

Tucker smirked. “Well, yeah. But I am a man, and that means I can provide for my family! Be that bringing home the bacon or cooking the food my food eats, either way, I can do it!”

Sam groaned. “Oh great, now you’re spewing internalized societal expectations… want me to go gather berries and raise some babies while we’re at it?”

“Wait…” Danny interrupted. He pointed at Tucker and narrowed his eyes. “You think of us as your family?”

Tucker felt his own cheeks heat up in a blush. “I mean.. Yeah? You’re my bro, bro. And Sam’s the annoying sister.”

Jazz raised her hand to get his attention before pointing at herself. “What about me?”

Tucker scoffed. “You're the sister of my bro. You're my sister too, by transitive properties.”

“Awwww….” Jazz said, quickly moving around the table. “Come here, my little bro,” she said, the word sounding clumsy and unpracticed. “Let me give you a hug!”

Tucker jumped away from her reaching arms. “Nuh-uh! I am not a hugger!” He couldn’t help but laugh as he wielded his spatula as a defensive weapon. “I should never have upgraded you all from subjects to family!”

Sam groaned and rolled her eyes. “We never should have gone to that stupid museum…” She stabbed into one of the pancakes Tucker popped it into her mouth. “Wow… this is really good.”

Tucker ducked under Jazz’s arms and shoved a thumb into his chest. “Of course it is! I cooked it!” Before he let out a shriek (or manly yell if you asked him) as Jazz attempted to take advantage of his distracted state to ensnare him in a hug.

Jazz laughed as she continued to encircle Tucker. “Yes, yes, we know you cooked, and we love you soooooooo much for it!”

Danny laughed as his sister continued to fight to give her newly claimed brother attention. He sat down and went back to drinking his coffee. Sam looked at his empty plate and then at him. She raised an eyebrow. “You’re not gonna eat?”

Danny’s eyes flashed glowing green for a second, and he smiled softly. “You know ghosts can feed off emotion… There’s enough…” he paused and chewed on his lip as he tried to think of how to describe it in words. He sighed and gave up, “joy, happiness, family, safety here…” He said, just throwing several feelings in as one mishmash soup and hoping to get his point across. He waved his hand about the room as he settled in his seat.

“I’m full.”

#holiday truce #danny phantom #dp fic #Danny Fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #jazz fenton

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bcdgrlsdoitwcll · 2 years ago

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life isn't fair. in fact, it's rarely the opposite.

Leila figured this out at an early age. (tw: abuse, death, prison below the cut)

Born to a couple of high school sweethearts who weren't nearly ready to be parents, Leila's memory of childhood comes and goes. She remembers not having the best clothes to go to school in, not having the newest toys to play with -- or even further, not having a consistent father figure in her life, unlike the other kids that she went to school with.

But let's start at the beginning.

Her mother made ends meet giving pedicures to rich people and being at their mercy of whatever tip they wanted to leave her that day. While she never went without a meal, at a young age, Leila could see how this turned her mother into a helpless, desperate mess. It was disgusting how the generosity of better off strangers dictated how well she lived from week-to-week.

It didn't help things when her father, a raging alcoholic in his own right, attempted to rob a bank to soothe their family's raging financial woes when she was 4. On the speedy chase from the scene, he ran a red light and crashed into an elderly couple. Prison, much like death, had a funny way of making sure that you never seen someone again. And she didn't.

Leila knew she never wanted to be that hapless. She wanted to be solely dependent on herself, no matter what it took. To some, Leila may come off as aggressive or callous - but she just considers it necessary. After all, the beauty of confidence is that no one knows if it's real or not.

High school wasn't much kinder -- but puberty and the perks that came with it allowed her to control her own narrative. For the 8 hours she was within these 4 walls, she was queen. She was highest on the pecking order and she liked being there. It felt natural to her.

On the outside for the first couple of years, it seemed like she was living a dream. She was popular, dating someone equally as popular on the varsity team, with all the adoration she could ask for. Except behind closed doors? It was anything but. Her boyfriend was incredibly unkind at his best, abusive and damaging at his worst. She never bore bruises on her skin -- but it didn't make her wounds any better. She inherited a deep sense of distrust and skepticism, not even knowing if the idea of love existed...

Until she met Danny.

Unlike her prior boyfriend, he was considerate. He was kind. He was the type of person to hold doors open for people, even if they didn't say thank you. He seemed almost too good to be true.

And like clockwork, she became addicted. After 2 years, she was finally able to break her abusive cycle and find respite in his arms, hooked on simply the feeling of safety. He would walk her to class, drive her home, hold her hand when they were out, every chivalry tope that she was nearly sure didn't actually exist.

Things were great, even after they had managed to escape the hellscape of high school. Quickly, they were able to save up and get an apartment together, one all on their own, while they both chased their respective dreams.

Danny wanted to be a wrestler. And while Leila didn't get it, she supported him, as best she could. She wanted to be a cosmotologist herself, knowing that her passion came from making people look and feel like their best selves.

His success came first. And with that, naturally came the fans. Namely, the girls that would come to his shows. She didn't like that part. With the baggage she still very much carried on her sleeve from wounds before, there was always a jealousy there. An sense of untruthfulness.

Here was her now perfect life, and these random girls were threatening to ruin all of it. It was enough to create such a jealous monster, that their fights were now becoming more and more frequent. Fight, make up, get angry again, lather rinse repeat. Yet, she would say that she only did it because she cared. She always cared. Sometimes, she'd say too much.

At 20 years old, her life began to mirror her mother's own. Now, she was pregnant with their daughter, Sienna. With her intense Catholic upbringing, it wouldn't allow her to do anything less than keep it. And keep it, she did. Maybe this would be the glue that would keep their family together. The connection that was already beginning to crack at the very foundation.

Spoiler: It didn't. And to this day, Leila holds a lot of resentment towards Danny for that. It could have worked out if things were different. If he was different.

She wouldn't argue if you used the word "bitter" to describe her -- but she'd follow it up with the fact that it was necessary. In fact, it was this bitterness and chip on her shoulder that got her a job with All Elite Wrestling as one of their new MUAs.

Not one to shy away from conflict or sharing her opinion, she's planning to leave waves in her wake. As long as the needs of her and her daughter were taken care of. End of.

#( &. — biography. )#nitro.intro #nitro.ooc #tw abuse #tw death #tw prison

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datawyrms · 4 years ago

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Responsibility

For Phic Fight 2021, The Lord of Chaos’s prompt c:

Spectra fed off of misery; nocturne fed off of dreams. The elusive town cryptid that only shows up when people need saving gains a following and Danny finds that he gets a boost from the people who have faith in him, he starts to become aware of them, especially when they needed him.

The rest of the town seeing him as benevolent was a positive thing. The uncomfortable stabs that his ‘parents were right’ about ghosts lessened as fewer and fewer treated him as a monster just as troublesome as Technus. He didn’t need to tense when the news was on, to hear his attempts to help called a ‘savage attack’, or that stupid nickname. He’d slept a bit easier, knowing that people did understand he only meant to help lately. Sure, Mom and Dad might still insist he was an evil ghost, but it was so much easier to ignore that when he didn’t feel he was only one step away from proving them right to everyone else. Clumsy and reckless he could take. Just as long as he wasn’t some ‘evil soul sucking abomination.’

Having Jazz a bit more in the loop had actually started to pay off. She wasn’t as good at catching a ghost as Sam or Tucker, sure, but she wasn’t hindering him anymore either. Honestly, if all three of them worked together, his powers weren’t really needed unless something huge found its way to town. Which his friends had insisted he take advantage of at least once a week, to let them handle the usual patrols and alerts while he tried to catch up on work and sleep. Mostly sleep, to be honest. Focusing on work was almost impossible when his ghost sense went off, even if he knew they didn’t need help. He wanted to go, he had to go; but they were very good at yelling at him for not ‘trusting them’ to handle things. He really did need the break. That’s why he was feeling a little less haggard, a bit more alert. At least, that’s what made the most sense.

Then the ‘lurching’ started. He couldn’t think of a better name then that. It wasn’t like his ghost sense, that sort of just crawled out of him and didn’t give him much to go on beyond ‘there’s definitely a ghost around’. That could go off and leave him rolling his eyes at the box ghost, or fighting for his life against Plasmius with the exact same feeling. The lurching was...different. Like his ghost sense forgot where his windpipe was and decided to escape in a random direction. Inssenantly. It didn’t hurt, but it was annoying, worse than the pang that would pass when he ignored whatever got his ghost sense acting up. It just kept pulling in a direction, but refusing to get out from under his skin. Sometimes it would keep going for an entire class, which just made whatever the lurch’s chosen direction noticeably cold. He was pretty sure he was immune to frostbite nowadays, but that didn’t make explaining things easier if someone spotted his hand looking almost blue from lack of blood flow.

Maybe his core was on the fritz again. Who knew what sort of weird things could happen to a human who spent half his time dead?

Tucker suggested that he was just getting ghost puberty to go with the ‘joys’ of human puberty. Which sure, was funny and they could shove each other around and forget about it for a time. It didn’t feel like the right answer. None of his other powers acted up, honestly he was feeling better after fights then he usually did lately. Less drained, anyway. It wasn’t stopping either.

It just got worse. More intense. More frequent. Instead of vanishing the area the lurch decided to pull in seemed to grow the longer he tried to dismiss it. Noticeably. To the point even Dash asked if he should avoid punching him because ‘that shit looks contagious’. (He privately hoped it was. Dash totally deserved weird pulling that made you frost over.)

He had to ignore it, he couldn’t just drop everything every single time the lurch decided to show up. He’d look completely off his rocker, running in some random direction because ‘my shoulder feels cold to the north-west’. If it was close enough to be a real danger, his ghost sense would just go off!

So Saturday was going to be a ‘lurch hunt’. No more ignoring it, no school or mandatory activities that should keep him from following the strange cold that felt desperate to go after something. Yet even deciding that made his insides squirm. He had to follow it, he should be- but that was dumb. He missed enough class as it was.

So why was it so hard to focus on anything else when it started going? Like nothing else mattered? It wasn’t like he was drifting off or sleepy either.

Jazz said he was ‘fixated’ on something.

But how do you fixate on some weird feeling under your skin? He didn’t even know what it was! Just that Sam and Tucker kept needing to flick things at him to get him to pay attention to reality. One of his best rested weeks in ages, and he was worse off then he’d been focus wise in years. Stupid ghost powers. Saturday took far too long to come. Even when one of the lurches stopped pulling he couldn’t relax. Instead of relief he just felt. Hollow. He’d woken up in a panic, half expecting to be chained down in one of Vlad’s sick laboratories, but he wasn’t cut open. He wasn’t even injured. Safe, in bed- and feeling like the cold ran off with his ribcage.

Something was wrong with him. That had to be it. Once they found the cause, he’d solve it and it would stop. It had to.

Following it shouldn’t make him feel as relieved as it did. Taking his ghost form and flying after some...feeling that wanted to drag him somewhere was more like when Freakshow’s Staff dominated his mind than anything positive. A compulsion he couldn’t help giving in to.

At least his ghost sense went off once he’d followed it long enough, finding one of Vlad’s mutant ghost animals chasing someone through the streets.

Normal. A bit of one sided banter to get it’s attention, a few punches and ectoblasts and it was shoved away in the thermos. No more pulling, and one less ghost terrorizing town. That didn’t make sense. Unless it really was just his ghost sense increasing in range while becoming infinitely more irritating?

That’s what it felt like, at first. He’d follow, ghost sense, find the problem. Except there was something odd. Every ghost he found like this wasn’t just wandering about, or making a mess. They were all actively chasing, stalking or attempting to scare someone. Okay, so it homed in on more ‘violent’ ghosts then? That seemed possible.

Until one of the lurches kept pulling, but there was no ghost sense. The one that kept pulling him towards a man with his back against the wall, fumbling with a wallet. The man who wasn’t being threatened by Skulker, or a vulture, or any of this typical fare. Just another human with a gun, and the will to use it.

This so wasn’t his thing. He fought ghosts, they were half his fault to begin with. So why was his ghost sense leading him to this? Well. It hadn’t. Lurching confirmed for not ghost sense?

Jazz would totally chew him out for tackling someone with a gun. He just had to forget to go intangible at a bad time, and he’d be all ghost. Or worse, go intangible and someone else got a body full of lead. He couldn’t just...ignore it now that he’d seen it though. The chill that hummed below his skin wouldn’t let him.

So the guy was a bit startled about getting pulled through a wall and dropped off the other side. Probably lost some change. He’d expected a bit of fear, at least. Like come on, some ghost just grabs you while a gun’s in your face? That’s still scary.

Yet he didn’t seem bothered. Just thankful. Called him a ‘hero’. For being in the right place at the right time. By just happening to be there because...because he knew? Something in him knew. That was wrong, he shouldn’t just know when people were in danger like that. He vanished without a word, not wanting to stick around and hear more. It was coincidence. Hopefully the guy wasn’t too offended that he just bolted, but he couldn’t stay there. He didn’t like how the complement felt good in a way he couldn’t describe. That the cold in his chest thrummed with a pleasure that made the rest of him feel ill. He wasn’t a hero, he was just some kid. A kid who still wanted to have a life that wasn’t all this, eventually.

He can’t ignore at dinner that he picks at his meal, not from exhaustion but because he’s not hungry. He’s still energized, he’s still full- and no amount of gagging over the sink makes his stomach empty. ‘Ghosts helping humans only do so for their own ends’. He’d ignored and denied that, he hadn’t been getting anything out of being the local ghost punching bag- so why was he now? Did he steal something? Feed on that person he saved?

He hated that his face didn’t even have the sense to look pale at the idea. He looked healthy. Probably better than he usually did. Even the circles under his eyes weren’t as noticeable. Were Mom and Dad right? Was he just...more of a ghost now?

Sam and Tucker don’t buy his ‘couldn’t figure it out’ explanation. Mostly because he refuses to try it again with them along to help figure it out. Even as he grows cold and more lurching keeps gnawing at his attention. He’s human too, he doesn’t need...whatever this is.

Sam kindly tells him he’s being a gigantic idiot.

He’s too distracted by the chill to notice. Tucker explains that after he’s blinking confused at the corn chips bouncing off his forehead. They laugh it off. He’s pretty sure they’re just being nice. They know something’s wrong, but he can’t bring himself to tell them yet. They wait. For now.

He ignores the feeling. He tries to ignore the guilt, that he knows someone out there is in danger. That someone out there needs his help. That all he needs to do is walk out of class and he can go do some actual good. He can’t go chasing after everyone in town. Things happen! He’s just one person! The sooner the lurching in him figures that out, the better. It still ruins his focus, makes him grit his teeth and fidget in place. He wants to go, he doesn’t want to go, he doesn’t even know what he wants. For it to stop. That would work. The tugging stops halfway into his next class, the frost in his blood lifts. It leaves him empty. Starving.

Everything tastes bland. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Even his favourites barely seem worth the effort of snagging off a table. He’ll eat, he can’t have Mom and Dad looking at him like Sam and Tucker are now, but it just feels heavy in his stomach. A brick he’s decided to try digesting for fun. He’s hungry, ravenously so, but doesn’t want anything.

He knows exactly what he wants and hates himself for it. Stupid ghost half. He doesn’t need that, he doesn’t want to be some...leech. Seeking out trouble just to benefit from it. It’s wrong, he hates it, and if he could grab his core and slam it on the table for a few hours he would. Just until it remembered that they helped when they could. When it was close by, when it was a ghost problem. Not every bit of danger in town!

Misplaced aggression goes to the nearby ghosts. Which it often had, really. It’s normal. He’s just making sure people don’t get hurt, ignoring the humming of MINE coiled in his ectoplasm. The other ghosts feel it. They hear it when he hunts them down and wants to keep swinging even when they put claws or hands up in surrender. He doesn’t trust himself to banter with them right now. He doesn’t want to hear the words his ghost side wants to say. He shoves them back into the Ghost Zone, and the smarter ones stay away. A stronger ghost is already feeding here. There’s nothing for them to take.

He’s running on autopilot. Days are meaningless. He can’t focus in class, his notes are nonexistent and his patience is beyond frayed. He can’t sleep, the cold is too much, the emptiness hurts and fewer ghosts show up. He can’t even blow off steam by kicking the Box Ghost through a wall. He won’t follow it, and he’s fairly sure it’s going to kill him. That or his parents will. Even they have to notice how he barely eats and won’t focus on anything short of a horn section in his face.

Sam and Tucker sit him down. Force the issue. They know he’s a mess. They don’t have answers. How could they? His choices are to starve this ghost instinct out, or to just give into it and completely ruin his human life. He’ll be fine. It’ll stop eventually if he keeps ignoring it. Then he’ll be able to focus again. It’s all he can cling to.

He’s stubbornly ignoring the prickling awareness of other thoughts. Ones not from his brain. Ones that get louder when the lurch grips him, that practically overwhelm his own as fear and panic grows. Maybe he’s just gone a little off the deep end. He doesn’t hear voices. He refuses.

Jazz has her concerns. That he can’t ignore it. She knows more about Mom and Dad’s research, more about classifications of ghosts. She tries to be gentle, nudging him to be aware that stronger ghosts were more...like a concept then an individual.

He doesn’t want to be some sort of ghost concept of problem solving. She’s worried he won’t have that choice. Some part of him already knows she’s right.

He seeks out Valerie. For help. She’s confused, baffled and suspicious. After all this time he spent convincing her he’s not evil, he’s begging her to call him that. To convince other people he is. To make them fear him and his help. He doesn’t want to be a hero like she is. He just wants to be himself, doesn’t want to hear the people begging for help when he’s trying to sleep.

She doesn’t understand, but understands one thing. He’ll feed on those who rely on them. She has to stop that, doesn’t she?

They fight, and often. He does poorly, lets her save people while his misfires cause damage and chaos. It makes him want to scream each time. Some of the thoughts and voices dim. Not enough. Too many are understanding, too many can see the regret and pain that wrack him with each failure. He’s always hungry. He wants to try again, but everything in him rebels against it. The ghost hunter avoids him. It’s ‘not a fair fight’. He’s ‘not himself’. His green eyes are more dead then they ever have been. He can’t maintain his legs.

As a human, all he wants to do is sleep.

Mom and Dad notice. He collapses and his eyes flare green when they try to help him. Just automatically sensing them as danger, against him, not someone that calls for him. They think he’s possessed, and he wishes they were right.

He half considers not telling them the truth. Let them think of a way to let his ghost half quiet down, to stop hungering for validation he doesn’t want.

Jazz tells them before they can do much of anything. Pinches his ear for being stupid- that getting experimented on won’t help him.

Their hugs make him feel bad. This should be a good moment, a time where he feels safe and accepted. But his mind is not his own, not with the others whispering in his skull. Their warmth and love feels like a drop in the empty barrel of his hunger.

They want him to be healthy. They want him to be happy. He can’t be happy if he needs to abandon his life to be healthy. He tries to explain it, the emptiness, the voices (Jazz cuffs him again for hiding this, which seems fair.) and they promise to try and figure out why, maybe find a way to limit it or separate himself from whatever connection his ghost half seems to have made with the town. Until then- they encourage him. To go ‘help’ people. To feed the clawing cold taking over his existence. He’s not sure if they really mean it. It doesn’t stop him from listening.

It’s hard to feel guilty when it feels so good. To have the fear quiet and be replaced with thanks. Someone’s out of danger and happy, and he feels less hollow for a time. Mom and Dad switch him to home school. They say it’s a better fit, to be able to stop and start based on when he’s not being dragged away by his own instinctive need to protect people.

It feels like giving up. Admitting he’s too much of a freak to live like everyone else. Dad tries to compare it to his special classes when he was young. Different to fit his learning style, not failing. The pulls and voices aren’t nearly as distracting when he’s full. Food actually tastes like more than sand again. Sam and Tucker don’t need to try as hard to smile now that he isn’t looking like death warmed over. He doesn’t like not getting to see them as often. He can’t deny he feels better this way, and can actually pay attention now. Even if most of the time he just wants to nap when the hunger stops. Go ‘back into hiding’ as the town thinks he does.

It’s getting better. Slowly. Not in a way he wanted it to. Better nonetheless.

#Danny Phantom #phic fight 2021 #Team Ghost #how to mangle a prompt in 3k words #it's a really neat idea tho!#angst train choo choo

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bartletforamerica · 4 years ago

Conversation

How the Bartlet Administration Reacts to COVID-19

Abbey: is not taking any chances. After losing the fight to get the President to retreat to the farm or Camp David, she gets him to agree to limit himself to the oval office and the residence, with as few in person meetings as possible. Even before they’ve pulled together a White House task force, she’s made sure that everything is being disinfected and that her entire schedule is either canceled or made virtual. Her staff is the first to be working from home (and oh boy does she scold if she finds out any of them did something she thinks is foolish), with most of the rest of the White House staff following shortly after. She makes it her mission to do PSAs on what people should be doing and even does a virtual Sesame Street collaboration to teach kids how to wash their hands.

Zoey: Is not super pleased to be stuck in the Residence 24/7. She’s doing classes from her bedroom, so yay to not having to get out of bed early, but she can tell people are super disappointed that her camera is set up so that she has only a blank wall behind her [it turns out the secret service is very touchy about where you take video calls]. She also gets officially hired and given a security clearance for the sole fact that she’s one of the only people allowed to be near her dad who is tech-literate. She ends up doing some of her reading on the couch in his office so that she's on hand for when he's supposed to be skyping with the senior staff and can't figure out what link to click. She spends a lot of time worrying about Ellie, who helping do research about the virus, and texting her friends.

The President: is not happy to be closed up away from people. He also thinks that Abbey is overreacting where he's concerned. He misses actually getting to be around the younger staff. He and Zoey do a cooking from home video at C.J.'s suggestion, so that the country can see he's alive and to encourage people to not go out. They make chili and fight over whether it needs more cumin or oregano while Abbey records it and pipes in from behind the camera. The country is treated to a history of chili and a diplomatic incident nearly happens because apparently Mexicans deny having any association with it, even though most food historians say it has Mexican roots. The flaming debate doesn't stop a second episode at Thanksgiving where the country is treated to the history of the yam and all the secret spices that go into the President's stuffing. A large portion of the country gives him flack for putting Oysters in his stuffing. [In a small bedroom in an Illinois apartment a woman finally figures out why Joe Bethersonsen sounded so familiar.]

Leo: moved into the Residence because there was no way he was going to talk the President off ledges via skype for however long this lasted. He can only do so much. Zoey helps him learn to use Skype and he finds himself missing Margaret desperately even when he spends most of the day with a computer dedicated to having her on Skype so he can turn to it and ask her questions. She insists he get exercise and eat healthy (something he thinks she’s collaborating with the first lady on behind his back—they say very similar things much of the time). He skypes with Mallory on Sunday mornings over breakfast in his room and they pretend they’re at a hotel having a fancy brunch.

Charlie: is not particularly happy. He got sent home with everyone else because he’s not particularly necessary to have on hand if the president isn’t going anywhere. He’s still getting paid and he does do some work (the most important bit being hanging out on the phone with the president so he can ramble about history so Zoey can get her own reading done, Leo can browbeat the staff, and the first lady can do her own job) but he’s been ordered by the president and first lady to focus on getting extra school done while he can.

Donna: started freaking out the first day there was a rumor of a new disease in China. Then the White House shut down and even senior staff got sent home unless they absolutely needed to be in the building (basically just C.J. and some of her staff). And her roommate (not the one she'd really liked, who had a cat, but one she hopes is only temporary) works for a GOP congressman who thinks the whole thing is a hoax and bans masks in his office, so Donna is not at all happy and spends time she should be working cleaning things her roommate touches and that's sixty percent of how she ends up living with Josh.

Josh: is struggling with not being allowed to leave the house on pain of the first lady taking him to task (something about his lungs and the bullet). Even when he was putting his nose to the grindstone to make it through college and law school, he liked being around people while he studied, so he was usually in the library or a cafe rather than his room. He works best when he can bounce ideas off people and take in new ideas. When he was grounded after surgery it absolutely sucked and that was why he drove everyone crazy calling them all the time. Yeah he was bored, but he was also lonely. Plus he's not the best with technology. He very nearly went on national tv with his boxers showing, if not for Donna skyping him beforehand and making sure he fixed the camera. Between needing not to be alone and needing his assistant to be able to actually help him, the invite for Donna to stay with him slips out when she's complaining about her roommate. She shows up two hours later with two suitcases of clothes and two suitcases with pasta, toilet paper, and flour.

Donna and Josh: are handling the pandemic much better now that they're together. Josh can bounce ideas off Donna without it tying up his phone line. And she can listen in on his calls to the various members of congress about the stimulus package that they're working on. It's an even better look at Josh's job than she had before, and while it makes some of her work harder to focus on, she feels like she understands some things better than she ever has before. Josh even starts listening to her about how to sway certain congressmembers to their side. When they're not working, Donna forces Josh to cook with her so they're not entirely subsisting on delivery. They tried making bread and managed to spill half a bag of flour on the floor in the process but they ate all of it, even though it tasted pretty bland. Josh finally got Donna into baseball when it came back. Toby spit out his beer when he was on speakerphone with them and he heard Donna accurately yelling at the Mets for screwing up. Donna wears Josh's clothes more than her own, since she doesn't have to be on camera most of the time. They're platonically sharing a bed because they haven't found a convertible sofa for his living room that they like, they say, and it doesn't make sense for one of them to sleep on the couch, which they say has a spring that makes it uncomfortable to sleep on, even though Donna lounges on it all day with no problem. They are absolutely not dating and so they tell all their friends.

C.J.: spends five minutes laughing every time she gets off the phone with Josh or Donna. She loves her friends but god they're so completely in denial. It does, however, give her a much needed break. Her job has always involved a lot of people and knowing what venue to meet them in to ensure that she gets or passes on the information she needs. COVID protocols mean no more one-on-one meetings with journalists in her office, no more gaggles following her through the halls. The press corps were not happy when they moved all briefings outside and insisted on face masks and shields in addition to everyone sitting six feet apart. She gets asked about the president's health at least once a day and they start doing weekly waving from the balconies just so the press corps can get footage of him, healthy and shouting down to Danny and some of the others. Someone makes a cartoon of the president in the tower, with Abbey as his dragon keeper and though no one is willing to justify a cartoon with a comment, privately C.J. thinks it's accurate. She's always admired Abbey's fierce protectiveness of her family, even when she doesn't agree with every way it expresses itself or when it interferes with C.J.'s job. She has to come up with new ways to push the White House agenda (keep the economy afloat, stay home, no, don't listen to the GOP governors or those running for the primary, those ideas are not good, go the fuck home and stop having parties) and while some work, others bomb. It would help if everyone would stay on message and not screw up.

Sam: would like to make it clear that he did not know how many people would be at that gathering. He thought he was going for an outdoor meal with just a few old friends who could help raise money for the democratic party, not a fifty-person birthday party. The media fallout nearly gets him fired. Instead he gets yelled at by C.J., then by the First Lady. Mallory even sends him a card about how stupid he was. He's pretty sure that having Donna around is the only reason that Josh hasn't made the same mistake by now. It had to have been a toss up as to which of the two of them would screw up. Sam just isn't lucky enough to have a Donna (Sam is very happy that Josh has a Donna, Sam just wants Josh to realize that he talks about Donna the same way most men talk about their wives, because it's really hard not to respond to "why do I put up with finding her hair clogging the shower drain" with "because you love her and can't live without her, stupid"). He instead has adopted a cat for company. It tries to scratch him every time he tries to pet it. Sam spends his days trying to find a way to say "fuck the economy until we've beaten the virus" in a way that is palatable to the American people while trying to remind Toby that they can't actually say that outright. This is not an easy task.

Toby: would like to tell most of the American public to shut up, stay indoors for two months, pretty much nobody excepted, and if you don't, then you get tossed out to sea. He's come within an inch of telling anti-mask people they deserve to get sick on the record and is strongly advocating that the federal government figure out a way to mandate that every person in the country, minus those with legitimate medical exceptions, get the vaccine as soon as possible. He is also about to get evicted because it turns out his neighbors do not appreciate having rubber balls bounced against the walls for hours on end. Apparently, the thud is rather annoying. He worries about everyone, though this is delivered brusquely. Out of everyone he's taking the new work from home situation the best. No one can pop in to distract him, or comment on his eating habits. And if he doesn't want to talk to someone, he can always turn his phone to silent and pretend not to have seen they called. He's not pleased the Yankees lost to the Rays (necessitating rooting for either the Dodgers or the Rays, one of which beat his team and the other which betrayed New York), but he can at least take solace in the fact that the Mets didn't even make the playoffs.

#the west wing #pandemic #covid #jed bartlet #president bartlet #abbey bartlet #zoey bartlet #josh lyman #donna moss #josh x donna #sam seaborn #cj cregg #toby ziegler #leo mcgarry #basically there are still dumb people even with a good administration #but they try #and abbey will make sure they stay safe or else #i think this theoretically slots in somewhere in season... three?

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bubblegumbeech · 4 years ago

Text

Finding Home

Phic Phight Prompt by @hauntedozone

Sequel to Home with no Memories

He’d been alone on the road for a week now.

In all honesty he should be half dead, exhausted and starving and desperate to find something to eat or drink. But he wasn’t. Well, he was exhausted, just, more emotionally.

It would be easier, he thinks, if he knew who he really was.

His memories were still so fractured so damaged, he didn’t even really know what he was looking for. Just that he was following some vague idea, a concept, a feeling of family and comfort and home and everything a parent was supposed to provide.

So why was he walking away from them?

Easy, Danny thought, It’s because parents or not, those feelings of safety and comfort? Weren’t something they could provide. Even when they tried, even when all that effort was put forward to be those perfect, sitcom style parents, they couldn’t do the bare minimum and not lie to his face .

He wanted Jazz.

He didn’t even know who she was. Not really. But he wanted the feelings that came with the odd memory of her, the comfort, the warmth. The vague annoyance that he was so sure family members were supposed to feel towards each other instead of the full blown fear that held him in its grasp whenever Maddie- his mother - got near him.

In all honesty he wanted to know who he was. What he was. Daniel James Fenton. Missing for five years before being found, unconscious by his parents and brought to a hospital where they kept him for a month, planning their fake lives, their lies, and everything else.

That’s what he does remember. But who else was he?

Why didn’t he look any older? Where were the others? Why was he the only one found and why was it five years later?

But Danny didn’t have the answers. He might never have the answers. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to go look for them. First, however, he needed a place to start.

It was novel, being alone. It was pretty freeing as well, no pressure to pretend to be the child that someone else had been missing, no fear of being discovered doing something wrong. No fear of discovering something and it being wrong.

Danny had gotten used to being a wanderer, following a gentle tug in his core that seemed to pull him further and further away. There was no knowing where he was going, and he didn’t exactly have fair for a bus, or food, or really anything at all. So he had to just keep walking.

It took him a week before the hunger hit, and it hit harder than he’d expected. There was something wrong about it, he couldn’t help but think, he’d never heard of hunger being this deep, of seeping into one’s chest. His stomach growled, and he felt a tug towards something. He followed.

The tug took him towards a rest stop with a small diner, open 24/7 and full to the brim with truckers and other poor souls either caught on the road late at night or spending their lives transient and traveling. Just like Danny was now. He wouldn’t mind it, honestly, if he didn’t have the bone deep feeling that he was supposed to be somewhere, and that it was wrong for him to be away.

He walked in, hoping he passed for old enough to be driving on his own, and sat down at a table in the corner. The hunger was so much, just so much and he hadn’t eaten in so long. He’d been convinced that whatever it was his parents had done to him, it had taken away his hunger. It seemed now, that hadn’t been the case.

Maybe he could order food and run? There were plenty of places to hide in the woods, and he’d be good for at least another week right? Unless he just couldn’t feel hunger until it was pressing, didn’t he read somewhere that humans can go a week without food? He was still human, right?

“Hey sweetheart, where’s your parents?” asked an older lady in a waitress uniform, her hair was tied back in a tight but messy bun, and her apron was covered in stains. She set down a glass of water, looking worried and Danny smiled, tried not to look as tired as he was.

“I just got my license,” he lied, “so this is kinda my first roadtrip.”

A flicker of understanding passed behind her eyes and she smiled, “got lost huh?”

Danny ducked his head, an attempt at feigning embarrassment. She just shook her head and handed him a menu, “let me know what you want okay? And don’t let any of these old losers bully you, they’re the rough and rowdy kind.”

Nodding his thanks, Danny opened the menu. It was full of foods he couldn’t fully remember, things he wanted to try, but his eyes landed first and foremost on the burger on the top right. Out of all of them, that one felt the most familiar and he tucked the Menu away.

He sipped on his water, trying not to gulp it down too quickly. He didn’t want anyone to think he was desperate, they might think he was a runaway. They might call his parents. He needed to make it through this without being too suspicious, just eat, and run. Easy. People did it everyday.

When the waitress came back and he placed his order she didn’t look twice at his half empty water, just filled it quickly with the water from her jug and promised his food would be out right away. He waited eagerly.

Eventually, in an attempt to ignore the hunger eating away at the very center of him, he started people watching. He was in a small booth in the corner, so it wasn’t difficult to look around, see all the different people living their lives in the exact same place Danny happened to be.

There were a few sitting alone, silently reading the newspaper or some book, but most were sitting in groups, talking loudly and sharing exploits. Danny had no way of knowing if these people were strangers or friends with each other but he ached none the less.

What would Sam be like, sitting here surrounded by rednecks? In the few fuzzy memories Danny had, she always looked so elegant, all black clothes, sharp eyeliner, expensive fabrics. He couldn’t picture her in a place like this. Then again, he could barely picture her at all. The only truly solid image he’d had of her was from the article.

The one that proclaimed her missing. Along with Tucker and Jazz and Danny himself. He fought back tears, there was no use in breaking down now. He had to find answers, somehow.

His stomach growled again.

After he ate of course. The waitress came back with a huge burger and a whole plate of fries he hadn’t ordered and set it down in front of him. Danny had looked up at her, ready to tell her the mistake, but she simply waved him off and explained it was on the house. He looked hungry after all.

And well, he was. He tucked into the burger, and then the fries, and by the time he’d finished it all along with his third glass of water, his stomach was full to bursting and he had to sit back and take a deep breath. But despite the meal, he was still hungry. He could feel it, the pull in his chest screaming out for something, but he couldn’t eat another bite. He’d tried.

He fought back tears. What was wrong with him now?

The waitress walked over once she noticed he was done, “are you alright? Was the burger no good?” she asked and Danny shook his head, trying not to let her see his face.

“It was fine. Better than any burger I can remember,” he forced a smile.

She frowned, not taken in at all, “Sweetheart, I know our food ain’t that good. Something wrong? You want me to call someone-?”

“No!” he shouted, a touch too fast and far too loud. “No, I �� I have to do this on my own.”

The waitress shook her head, she was practically flooded with worry and concern and it tasted almost bitter on his tongue. Tasted. Danny frowned.

“I- Do you want to hear a joke?” he asked.

Startled the waitress set down her jug, “of course sugar, let’s hear your joke.”

It was clear she was humoring him, but Danny didn’t care. He needed something, and there was an inkling of a possibility, a thought that maybe this might work, and he was going to jump on it with everything he had.

“Where does the General keep his armies?” he asked, banking on his knowledge from reading popsicle puns when he was sneaking out back home. No, not home. Back where his parents were.

The waitress rolled her eyes, “I suppose in the barracks?” she smiled.

“Nope, in his sleevies. Do you think glass coffins will be a success?”

“I don’t-” she tried to say, caught off guard by the pun and trying to humor him with a laugh, but failing, obviously, in her confusion.

“Remains to be seen. Did you hear about the guy who lost his left arm?”

“Uh no I-”

“Ehh, his hand writing’s all right now-” his joke was interrupted when he heard her bark out a laugh, a genuine one and Danny’s chest hummed with the sound. He breathed it in, and felt something ease, just a little, in his chest.

“I’m glad you laughed, my usual clientele don’t usually get my jokes. It's hard to explain puns to kleptomaniacs. They always take things so literally.”

This one had her snorting behind her hand and looking at him completely anew, “kid you are something else you know that? This your attempt at getting a free meal?”

Danny smiled awkwardly, “is it working?”

She rolled her eyes, “keep trying charmer. I’ll go get your bill.”

Danny absorbed just a bit more of her laughter before she left, letting it settle under his skin, comforting and energetic. It wasn’t enough, not nearly, he realized, but it took away the edge and he found himself feeling mostly normal again. Well, as normal as someone who could apparently eat emotions was.

He was gone before she returned.

It was an unsettling feeling to be sure. He still wasn’t fully confident he still needed to eat, if the only thing that had taken away the painful emptiness in his chest was going to be emotions. What else was wrong with him? He didn’t age, or if he did it was slowly, he didn’t eat actual food, the cuts and scrapes he had gotten while walking through the trees to follow that tug, that pull in his chest that kept him going, all went away as quickly as they appeared. He was almost tempted to cut his hand deeper and time it as the skin stitched together.

Was that something his mother had done?

One thing he did know, he needed sleep. It was to biggest hurdle in his entire time traveling, almost a week away from home and he’d needed sleep more than anything else and it was almost grounding. It helped him feel human even as he laid awake, looking at the stars and somehow knowing the names of every constellation but not remembering why.

He wondered if Tucker was okay. If he’d complain about traveling like this or insist they took some gas guzzling car. Would he have counter arguments to Danny’s fractured morals, comment on how one little meal won’t hurt a restaurant but it could be life or death for him. That felt like something Tucker would say.

Danny kept walking.

He’d prepared after the first stop at the roadside diner. First, he’d shoplifted protein bars and trailmix,then he’d charmed the rest stop cashier into a roiling laugh after defending her from a particularly rambunctious drunk that had wandered in and made a mess of things. She’d thought it was hilarious to watch a grown man get his ass handed to him by a teenager, and Danny’s chest had practically purred with the satisfaction. As if that right there had been the first meal he’d had in months.

After that he felt lighter, like gravity wasn’t affecting him as much, and the pull on his chest got stronger, leading him away and into a certain uncertainty. He was excited now, pushing all the thoughts of experiments and inhumanity aside, there was an adventure to be had. And he was going to have it.

Looking at the stars helped too.

It was secondary of course, but whenever he felt frustrated, or tired, or on the edge of just stopping and giving up right then and there, he’d look up at the stars. Orion was there, watching over him, the big dipper and canis major, and every other constellation he could point out with ease. It gave him the energy he’d needed to go on, keep moving forward. To find the answers he so desperately needed.

One of the things he stole had been a watch. It was a large, ticking one that had caught his eye as he walked around the large store, trying not to seem to suspicious. It reminded him of something, the analogue clock he'd convinced Maddie and Jack to buy before he ran away perhaps? Or maybe, it was the ticking that was familiar. Either way it had been a comfort when he wrapped it around his wrist, holding it up occasionally to his ear just to listen. He let himself have it, this one thing that brought him comfort as he fled the only possible home he could remember.

It helped him sleep at night.

The first time Danny disappeared, it was because he was scared.

He was in the middle of the woods, decently far off the trail and mostly unconcerned with being found. Most people wouldn’t be out this far, this late, and they certainly wouldn’t be so far off the trail. Which was why, when he’d heard voices, hushed and excited, he went still.

Danny knew why he was here, the instinct he was following, homing beacon, whatever it was, it didn’t care where roads were, and it cared even less for forest paths. He wouldn’t get lost, and even if he was out here in the woods for sometime, he’d figured out exactly how to keep the hunger at bay. At least, for long enough.

The voices grew louder and Danny tried to think of what to do. Did they know he was out here? He hadn’t exactly been bothering to keep quiet, and if he could hear the crunch of leaves and foliage underneath the stranger’s boots as they walked nearer and nearer, then surely they had heard his own, far less careful steps.

Thinking, quickly and with no small amount of panic, Danny stayed still and calmed his breathing. If they knew he was in the area but he didn’t make a sound, it would take luck to find him, or some kind of tracking skill, shit. His eyes started looking around at the trees, picking out branches he might use to climb, but none of them looked like they’d hold his weight. Even if he himself felt lighter, it was unlikely a tree would agree with him.

He struggled to calm his breathing as the voices stopped, but the steps grew louder. What should he do? They were coming straight towards him? Why would they stop talking if they were trying, somehow, to sneak up on him?

His heart beat in his chest, an uncomfortably fast rhythm and Danny squeezed his eyes closed just as he heard someone break through the thick of trees in front of him.

“Brett there’s no one here,” a voice spoke, less than a foot away and full of gravel.

Danny opened his eyes.

There were two men in front of him, both holding weapons, one was a large pistol that had Danny’s heart almost stop once he caught sight of it, while the other was holding a large machete, likely used to make traveling through the wood like this easier.

“He’s hiding then,” said the stranger with the gun, “you saw the snag of blue fabric on the tree. He definitely went this way. Just, look in the bushes or something.”

The other guy, the first one to push past the trees and into the small space Danny was now standing, sharing with them, started swinging his weapon around and calling out in a sing song voice that had the hairs on the back of Danny’s neck rising.

“Come on out kiddo~.” he said, “we’re just worried about you. It isn’t safe getting lost alone in the woods at night. I mean, who knows what kind of scary people you could run into-”

Bret had slapped him on the back of the head, and ignoring his partner’s cry of outrage, said “you idiot. Do you even know how not to run your mouth?”

“Oh come on,” he’d said, carelessly waving his machete around, inches from where Danny was standing, back flush against the bark of a tree. Danny sucked in his breath to avoid being nicked. Even if they apparently couldn’t see him, the last thing he wanted was them getting a bit of blood on the blade and wondering where exactly it was from. “What’s he gonna do? Run? It’ll be easier to catch him then.”

Danny had to admit, that was certainly true. But he was eying a small trail between two of the trees nonetheless, maybe even if he made noise, if he was still invisible they wouldn’t be able to find him right?

The blade slid through his chest and into the tree.

He didn’t breath, didn’t risk the rise and fall movement of his chest, and braced for the pain. Like an idiot he’d gotten distracted, let them put a giant knife through him, and now he was going to bleed out in the middle of the woods on some quest for answers he didn’t know existed. His thoughts raced past, half formed memories that he’d been holding onto with desperation and emotions he didn’t properly remember feeling, interspersed with the image of his parents, crying on the driveway as he walked away. Was this what happens when an amnesiac watches their life flash before their eyes?

The blade got taken out of the tree, a thick piece of bark falling off and onto the forest floor before the man sheathed the thing. Danny raised his hand to his chest, confused. The pain had never come.

In fact, it was like nothing had happened at all. The blade had simply gone through him.

Like a ghost.

He ran away, running through trees and their branches, his steps silent and weightless, his hands barely there and transparent as he lifted them in front of his eyes. This wasn’t possible. It didn’t make sense, people can't just stop existing like this. That’s something he’d know, someone would have mentioned it as a possibility.

Right?

Something was wrong, horribly wrong and Danny fought against the feeling bubbling up in his chest, tried to force it down, and ran face first into a tree.

Groaning, he felt around his tender nose. Apparently being incorporeal wasn’t a permanent thing, it was just… something he could do now. Or maybe, it was something he could always do. How much of him as he currently existed, was from his parents experimentation, and how much was from when they’d tried to “fix him”. Would he ever get an answer?

Danny let his head fall back into the grass and listened for the sound of anyone following him. It would be quite a feat, he supposed, if they even realized he’d left with the way it went down. So instead he looked up at the sky, started counting stars, and let himself fall asleep right there. This dream was of an endless forest and a strange, guttural language he’d never heard before, but found himself understanding.

After he got out of the woods he went to a small town. It was nice, cozy even and the people were pleasant to be around. Even if they threw him the occasional odd look due to his filthy worn hoodie and unwashed hair. He took the chance to sneak into a gas station bathroom and try to wash some of the dirt that had caked on his face, there was nothing he could do about the dark circles though. They were a permanent fixture at this point and Danny almost wouldn’t recognize himself without them.

Once he was finished with that, he walked around a bit more, looking for stuff he could do, people he could help. The ache in his chest had come back after his long stint in the woods, and he was eager to take this opportunity to try and soothe it.

Unfortunately, a filthy stranger walking around town wasn’t exactly the most trustworthy character and Danny struggled to find anything he could do that wouldn’t just scare someone off. It was when he’d asked around outside the arcade if anyone needed help with something around town, that an adult man had stopped what he was doing, looked him up and down, and said “you trying to get a job?”

Danny, not knowing really how to answer, just nodded. He was, in reality, just trying to find someone to help payment not needed, but he wasn’t going to turn down an offer like that either.

The man just sighed and said that he’d needed help moving some of the machines into the back and that, legally, it was a two person job. He offered twenty bucks and Danny shook his hand eagerly, a large smile on his face.

The man introduced himself as Marsh Hangreeve and explained that there were about half a dozen machines that needed to get moved, either they were broken without repair, no one really played them any more, or they were so outdated that all the cords were starting to fray and become a health hazard to the younger kids that sometimes wandered around the arcade.

The first one they lifted had been lighter than Danny was expecting, and they were able to easily maneuver it exactly where Marsh had wanted it in the back storage closet. Once they’d set it down, he’d had given Danny an approving look, nodded, and led him to the next one.

They were on their way back from carrying the fourth, and Danny was feeling pretty pleased with himself, when a kid no older than six had ran past them and tripped over the wire of one of the damaged games, pulling it off balance. The entire machine tipped back, towering over the fallen child and Danny couldn’t stop himself from running forward if he’d wanted to. His very being hummed and pulled, and he was there, one arm holding up the machine and the other curled around the child, protective.

Marsh had screamed a warning, but it hardly mattered. Danny lifted the machine easily back into place and gently picked up the child in his other arm, before stepping away and setting him back down.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked the frightened child, concerned.

“Is he okay?” Marsh scowled, “are you? Boy I told you those were a two man job why would you run over trying to get yourself squished like that!”

Danny rolled his eyes, clearly it wasn’t as heavy as it had been made out to be, “and let him get crushed instead?”

Looking over at the kid Marsh breathed out a frustrated sigh, “I guess you have a point. But don’t do it again or you can forget the twenty bucks I owe you. Here kid, let’s find your parents.”

Danny smiled, it felt good, helping people.

Was that the human part of him though? Or was it something else?

When Danny and Marsh finished the job he’d gotten his twenty dollars and a free dinner, and Danny gratefully accepted. Despite everything, he really did like being around people. Humans were kind by their very nature, and Danny basked in that feeling as much as he could on his journey. Sure, sometimes he felt more like he was taking advantage than anything else, and it was selfish almost, to seek out civilization only for his own needs.

But he tried not to think about that too much either- it sometimes caused a physical ache in his heart- and let the free meal settle as he fell asleep again, under the stars. They were particularly bright that night and he could have sworn he heard the ticking off a clock as he drifted away to sleep.

It was getting colder. It made sense really, he was headed north afterall. And he’d made plans for that, for the winter cold and the snow. He’d gotten a winter coat from walmart by sneaking in through the walls, it turned out he could spread that particular power to anything he touched, and fought the wave of guilt that hit him every time he did something like that.

He justified it in his mind with two different familiar voices. One that was easy going and carefree and told him, “hey you need that more than anyone else does, besides who’s going to miss one silly coat if it’ll save your life it’s worth it right?” The other was more steady, almost righteous and it said that “large conglomerates like Walmart and other stores gain most of their fortune on the backs of workers. They could stand to lose a bit of merchandise.”

His plan, once it got too cold to stay outside, had been to use the truck stops and sleep there, insulated from the cold at night before heading out again in the morning and continuing to walk. He’d had the fleeting thought, that perhaps he was headed to the north pole, and that there was no way for him to get there, no matter how long he walked, because that just wasn’t what humans can do.

Then again, he should have known better than to think himself limited to what humans can do.

It was when he woke up, covered in snow and more comfortable than he’d been any time Maddie had tucked him into bed under layer and layer of warm blankets, that he realized the cold didn’t just not affect him: it was a comfort.

Danny had held the snow in his hand and marveled at it. It didn’t melt, nor did it’s cold sting at him, and Danny found himself sitting, enraptured, by the intricate detailed designs that every flake formed as it fell. He blew the snow from his hands and watched as more formed, icy and solid and buzzing with the same kind of energy he felt just underneath his skin. Could he make ice now?

Was he Jack Frost or something? It certainly made sense, Jack Frost could apparently turn invisible and supposedly took the form of a young man riding on the wind. Then again, he’d never read anything about Jack Frost being able to turn visible, and Danny didn’t think he could fly.

Could he?

How would someone even go about discovering that?

As eager as he was, Danny wasn’t about to go jumping off cliffs or anything, not when he was so close to his answers. To the end of the rope that’s been leading him, tugging at his chest. So Danny just shook the snow out of his hair, marveled at the comforting soft feel of it, and continued his trek.

Amity Park had a sign on the outskirts proclaiming it “a nice place to live” and Danny felt something click into place as he walked past the town’s boundary. His emotions were suddenly running wild, as if he’d been starving them, and suddenly he could feast. He had to take a step back but there was something stopping him, a cry for help and he ran towards it, energy flowing all around him too much to keep inside too much to hold and he felt as a bright light surrounded him and he flew forward, his legs fading behind him until he came upon a scene straight out of his nightmares.

It was a monster, terrorizing a young woman, probably in her early twenties if that. The monster was large, glowing, and only just opaque enough to not look like some kind of hologram. Danny flew in front of it, putting himself between it and the girl and growling a warning. He wasn’t thinking about how his feet weren’t touching the ground, he refused to question it for fear of the ability going away without his control. He didn’t look down.

The monster stopped, a stunned look on its face, “ghost boy?” it asked. Danny frowned, why did that voice sound familiar? Was he really something from his dreams? How much had he dismissed as fantasy only for it to be reality, law of nature breaking reality?

“What did you call me?” Danny asked, risking a glance to see if the woman had run yet. She hadn’t, instead she was just standing there, smiling, and when she noticed him looking, she waved. He fought a blush, what the hell?

The monster laughed, “I knew you hadn’t Faded! They all told me I was crazy to hunt for prey long dead, But I, Skulker, was right! And here you are!”

Danny didn’t know how to react to that. Did he know this thing? Wait, no, clearly he knew this thing. It was somewhere, scrambled with the rest of his memories. Flashes of cages, and fights, constant paranoia, and Danny felt his hand grow cold as he built ice in it to attack with.

The woman called out though, no longer afraid, “oh please. He’s only been gone, what a year? Weren’t you crying just last month about how much you missed him?”

Danny turned around to face her, “weren’t you scared? Why are you still here?”

At the same time the monster, Skulker, sputtered, “I was merely lamenting the loss of such rare prey!”

The woman just giggled, “how can I leave when my hero has finally retuned to save me~”

There was something weird going on here. For one, everyone seemed to recognize him, but neither of them had used his name. For two, he and this Skulker were clearly floating in the middle of the day and almost no attention was being paid to them at all beyond the woman who’d originally called for help.

Who clearly no longer felt she needed it.

“Hold on,” Danny said, struggling to sort through the information he was being given, “you two know me?”

Skulker’s grin dropped and the girl gasped.

“What do you mean by asking such an absurd question! You and I are mortal enemies! Of course we know each other!” geez, he didn’t have to get so offended.

Danny crossed his arms, “what’s my name?”

“Uh,” Skulker looked down towards the woman before looking back at Danny, “you know you’re usually a bit more tightlipped about that. It’s really not sporting to hunt prey that isn’t in it’s right mind.”

Danny scowled, “why would I be tightlipped about my name? Ugh, this is a waste of time. Just,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, “leave the lady alone and go do something I don’t know, Hunter-y that won’t piss me off.”

“Why would I-”

“Or I can freeze you into a block of ice that doesn’t melt,” Danny threatened, feeling the energy build behind his eyes.

At Danny’s glare, the hunter gulped and feigned looking at his watch. “Huh, looks like it’s time to go feed that gorilla, I’ll uh, be back to hunt you later Welp!” He flew away.

Danny sighed and let himself float gently downward until his feet touched the floor. The woman ran over to hug him, eager, and Danny just let himself go intangible, unwilling to be touched so casually by someone who basically amounted to a stranger.

“Do you know my name?” he asked, warily.

She blinked, “Of course! You’re Phantom, ghost boy and savor of Amity Park. Did you hit your head or something?”

“Or something,” he answered, still stuck on something she said, Skulker had called him that as well, “what do you mean when you say ghost boy?”

Her eyes widened and she brought one of her hands, slender and perfectly manicured, to cover her mouth as she gasped. “There is something wrong. I knew you wouldn’t leave for so long without a reason!”

Quicker than he could react to, she grabbed his shoulders and led him to a store front window. Whatever she was trying to show him was probably inside, but Danny was struck instead by his own reflection, ghostly and glowing with bright green eyes.

He disappeared.

The woman called out to him, not thrown at all by his display of power, or by how much a freak he must be. Was he the same as the monster he’d almost fought earlier? They’d called him ghost boy, was Skulker a ghost? Was he?

But he couldn't be. That didn’t make sense.

Someone couldn’t be alive and dead…

Unless…

Experiments…

“We were trying to fix you Danny.”

His chest hurt again. And he followed it subconsciously, taking a path through town on auto pilot, and trying not to think about his changed appearance. When had it happened, why? Was it something he could undo, like the other powers he had?

Why did this town feel so different from all the others? What was the giant spike of energy drawing him like a moth to flame in the center of everything. Was that what was pulling him here? Or was this just where he needed to be?

How long was it going to take to get him memories back anyways. There wasn’t even a clock tower here! Hadn’t that been his goal, the one thing he knew to look for?

His path had brought him to an old torn down building on the end of a residential street. It hurt, for some reason, to look at the rubble around him and not know what happened here, or even what it used to be. But he knew there was something here. He could feel it. The energy buzzed around him and he looked around, checking if there was any other crazy people or dangerous “ghosts” before he simply, let himself fall down through it.

He found a lab.

Not just any lab, but the lab from his nightmares. The beakers, the buttons, the ominous table with thick metal cuffs and dark green slime long dried on it. He put his hand to his chest, almost feeling the scalpel as it sliced into him. Taking a breath, he pushed it away, buried and hidden, he could think about that another day.

For now, all his attention was on the glowing green and purple swirling mass of energy that was singing at him like a song. It pulled him in, and he floated towards it, this power newly discovered and yet second nature, just like all the rest.

He hesitated for a moment, before he went through it. What if what he was looking for was over here, on this side of whatever that was, and he couldn’t get back out? What if he really was dead, and that led to the afterlife? What if he was missing the answers to his questions by going through?

But he’d followed the pull to this town and he’d found familiarity as foreign as it was, and now he was following his gut.

He braced himself and flew through.

What he found was a swirling green void that made no sense and defied what little laws of nature Danny remembered existing, like gravity and sense. Danny had the feeling that it went on, winding and stretching, for an eternity and that no matter what way he went, he could get lost forever and never find his way back.

That didn’t matter though, because right in front of him, larger than life and bigger than anything around it, was the clock-tower he’d been searching for.

It didn’t look like it belonged there, in fact, with it’s size and the relative barrenness of the collections of floating rocks and doors around him, it seemed rather ill placed. Like something had forced it somewhere it didn’t fit and Danny approached it cautiously.

There was no reason to believe that this was safe, just because he wanted it to be, just because his shattered mind had somehow put together that it was. He stood at the doors. In all reality they were ominous and foreboding. The entire tower was, sharp angles, deep purples and glowing greens. He didn’t feel scared though, so he lifted his hand to knock.

The door opened before he even touched wood and there, right in front of him, was another ghost. One he’d never seen before, with blood red eyes and a nasty, twisting scar hidden partially under a deep purple hood and a clock, ticking, familiarly, in his chest.

Danny felt tears build, his lips wobbled, his hands trembled as he clenched them tightly into fists, and when the ghost lifted his arms Danny flew into them clutching tight and crying. He heaved large, ugly sobs into his shoulder and felt a hand stroke down his back to comfort him.

“Welcome home.”

#Danny phantom #Phic Phight #Phic Phight 2021 #phic phight 21 #Clockwork dp #Clockwork #amnesia #Listen I wasn't going to make a sequel!!! the prompt made me do it!!!#Bee's writing

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lupinblacktheone · 4 years ago

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"So, I was thinking": a modern college!AU:

Johnny is bored. He has already finished all of his crosswords; all of his friends are busy minding their own business and won't pick up their phones.

Classes won't begin until next Monday. Johnny arrived at his dorm last night and he doesn't know when his roommate will be there. All he knows about this person is his name: LaRusso, Daniel.

Wondering about this mysterious boy could set Johnny free from his boredom. Is he a nerd? Or a drama kid? Johnny hopes he won't sing all the time. Of course he likes music (who doesn't?), but musicals... he isn't ready for them yet.

It would be nice to have some common likings with him. Maybe horror movies or breakfast for dinner (well, Johnny is so broke that he eats it for all meals, basically).

Remembering the old times, which weren't good, not at all, tugs at Johnny's heartstrings. He doesn't miss arguing with his parents all the time, but he certainly liked not having to iron his clothes himself. And he misses messing around with Tommy, Jimmy, Bobby and Dutch after school.

Oh, and Karate! Johnny misses it so much that it hurts. He couldn't find a Karate club to join (is this a thing? In Johnny's opinion, it should be. There are clubs for everything in this campus. If he can't find one, he'll form one). Maybe he can practice with Daniel and he could be the second member of the Karate club.

"Hello! I'm Daniel!"

Johnny stares at the boy. He's short, dark-haired and has round brown eyes.

"Johnny", the blond boy gets up, approaches Daniel and shakes his hand. "Can I help you unpacking?"

"Please", Daniel sighs and rubs his neck. "My mother just dropped me off and turned the car around. I barely had time to say goodbye. Can you believe it? I think she wants to rent my room while I'm gone, but I don't think I'll be going home anytime soon. How about you?"

Obviously, the first thing Johnny learns about Daniel is: he's a chatterbox. Second thing: he's from Jersey. He lives with his mother and would love to learn martial arts, but her mother wouldn’t let him because she’s afraid he will get hurt.

"I know Karate", Johnny confesses with a little smile.

***

Sometimes, Johnny regrets having told Daniel about his passion for Karate, because the kid didn't stop begging Johnny for some classes until he finally gave up.

Their dorm is too small and they would destroy it sparring there, so Johnny decides to have the class outside, behind the gym. Daniel said he would meet Johnny there after dinner (and yes, Daniel also has breakfast for all meals, since he is just as broke as Johnny).

December is on the way, so Johnny is wearing as much sweaters as he can (including his Cobra Kai jacket). He leans his back against the red brick wall and puts a cigarette between his lips.

Daniel shows up some minutes later, carrying a heavy messenger bag on his shoulder and wrapped in hoodies and coats (he has lots of cool hoodies; Johnny loves to borrow them and he is using the baseball one right now).

"Ugh", Daniel puts the bag down, massaging his shoulder.

"Are you ok?", Johnny asks with a worried look on his face.

"Perfect. Let's do this."

They get on fighting positions and spar for a while. When they get tired, they walk back to their room, peacefully talking about the day.

"Let me carry this for you", Johnny picks the messenger bag, even though Daniel has already bent to pull it.

He places it over his shoulder and Daniel walks beside him, ranting about his lame Calculus professor.

"I couldn't convince Mrs. Warter to postpone the paper's due date", Johnny complains when Daniel asks about his day. "I'll be lucky if I get a C on it."

"Do you want me to help you?"

Yes, please, he almost answers. Johnny enjoys having Daniel around. They don't have many common likings besides Karate and breakfast food, but he really enjoys staying up late with him, sharing their only desk (Johnny begun to work as a cashier in a store near the campus and Daniel writes other people's assignments for money and they are saving money to improve the place) and laptops on study sessions. Or to spend rare and lazy Sundays in their room, doing crosswords (Daniel bought some magazines and gave to Johnny). Or to share breakfast meals in the middle of the night because they can't sleep.

"Are you free tonight?", he asks, his voice sounds desperate, just as his eyes.

"Is this a study session or a date?", Daniel replies jokingly and raises an eyebrow. "Sure. I can help you."

Johnny opens his laptop and shows Daniel what he's working on.

"I mean, it's not bad, but could use some adjustments here and there. Let's get to work."

Daniel presses the keyboard keys hard with strong movements that emulate a pianist, but with perfectly tied hair. His brain is formulating what should be in the text and getting rid of what shouldn't be read by Johnny's professor.

"I think we're done here", Daniel declares.

"Thanks. I'm gonna buy you a coffee tomorrow, with extra cream."

"Much appreciated", the boy winks and Johnny's heart skips a beat. "So, I was thinking..."

"What a miracle", Johnny teases, smiling to distract Daniel from his blushing ears.

"Anyway, are you going home for Christmas?"

"I don't think so. You?"

"Also no. I don't have enough money for a ticket to Parsipanny."

Daniel looks at Johnny for a moment. His blue eyes are usually shiny, but now... he's more than just sad. Johnny looks depressed and scared.

"Are you alright?", Daniel reaches for Johnny's hand. "You can talk to me. I'm here for you."

Johnny doesn't talk. Instead, he goes for a hug. A big and warm hug. He clings onto Daniel as if he was the only thing keeping him from being blown away.

He doesn't want to cry. However, he can't fight the tears anymore. Daniel holds Johnny, trying to keep him together only with his bare hands. He doesn't try to whisper comfort words in Johnny's ear, he just stays there, providing his roommate all the support he can.

That night, Johnny falls asleep in Daniel's arms. He has never felt this safe before.

The next morning, Johnny rushes to the closest cafe shop to get the nicest cup they have. He drops by the dorm to put the coffee on the desk with a note: To the best roommate ever. Thank you for everything. Love, J.

He sends the paper to Mrs. Warter as soon as he takes a seat in the computer lab for his first class, hoping Daniel's help can save his poor ass from failing Warter's class.

A few hours later, Johnny is waiting for the last class to begin so he can get to work. Not that he likes standing up by a counter telling old people where they can find raisins, plum juice and other things old people buy. But at least, he gets to listen to his music and does little pieces of homework between a client and another.

There is something Johnny can't do at the store: see Daniel. Too bad they don't take many classes together, because every time Johnny sees Daniel entering the classroom, the world changes. It becomes brighter and more beautiful. He knows it's cliché, but Johnny is tired of pretending to be the perfect son, athlete... he just wants to be Johnny.

And Johnny is brave.

"So, I was thinking...", Johnny says when Daniel sits by his side.

"That's unusual", Daniel lets out that amusement air through his nose. "What is it?"

"Do you wanna go out? With... with me?"

That is really unusual. Johnny never was this reticent before. Not even when he noticed he had a crush on Ali Mills.

“Yeah, sure. When?”

“How about Friday? My shift ends at 5:30.”

“Sounds great.”

***

Johnny spends Christmas in his dorm, with Daniel. They curl up on Johnny’s bed, wrapped in Daniel’s hoodies, solving crosswords puzzles and drinking tea while listening to Johnny’s music. Neither of them wants to talk about their families.

Growing up as an only child, Johnny never had to share his things. He wouldn’t even allow Ali to read his poetry (he wrote some about her, tho), or let his friends go through his Spotify playlist. Not because he's embarrassed to like these songs, but because the lyrics describe him so perfectly that he's not comfortable with someone listening to it in front of him.

When he met Daniel and found out they could be good friends (maybe more than that? Johnny certainly hopes so), he felt an urge to take the boy on a journey through his world. First, they shared Karate, then crossword puzzles and went on and on, discovering little things about one another.

“Huh… I couldn’t get you anything for Christmas, so I wrote you a poem. Wanna hear it?”

Daniel doesn’t say anything, just gets closer to him as Johnny clears his throat and searches his notebook for his newest composition. Once he finds it, he puts the paper in front of his eyes (he was brave enough to ask the boy out, but not to have that lovely brown eyes gazing at him while he reads his feelings out.)

“I loved it, Johnny. Now get ready for your present.”

Johnny doesn’t close his eyes when his lips are pressed by Daniel’s mouth. It feels so good that they do it again and again until they fall asleep, holding each other.

***

Graduation is almost here. Most students have moved from the dorms or plan to do it soon. Daniel and Johnny, on the other hand, haven’t mentioned the matter yet. As you can imagine, they don’t want to live with their families again. The only thing Johnny wants is to stay with Daniel and he wonders if Daniel wants the same thing.

“Hey, Danny”, it was supposed to be a nice and quiet study session before the finals, but Johnny can’t hold this down any longer. “I was thinking… do you wanna live with me?”

“Are you kidding me? You’re never getting rid of me, blondie.”

#lawrusso #daniel larusso #johnny lawrence #college au #fanfic #Johnny's POV

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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Star Vs Tom Luictor Retrospective Detour: Skooled!

Dedicated to Jessica Walter 1941- 2021

Welcome back all you still mourning people to Prince of Wishful Thinking, my Tom Lucitor Retrospective... or at least a detour from it as I need to cover the Meteora arc to cover Divide/Conquer properly. When we last left off with Star she and Tom were going closer, but both are taking a break this time. We’ll get back to them in April... oh will we get back to them in april. For now we’re back to Meteora who I forgot was ABSENT for a while. not forever, but while her parantege, the cover up related to her and all of that has been vitally important, Meteora herself vanished after Monster Party and hasn’t been seen till now. But i’ts a good storytelling engine.. it ratchets up tension for her inevitable return, and gives us time to find out what happened with her and let that sink in.. granted i’td also be the last time it sunk in but I can dunk on the series decline later... I still have season 4 episodes to cover after all. So join me under the cut as we get the welcomed Return of Henious, an unexpected hero.. and Ponyhead because this series clearly hasn’t hurt me enough. And as usual for my Star Vs Reviews, i’d like to thank one of my Best Friends @jess-the-vampire for her insight on this episode. It’s always welcome and she always manages to find something I didn’t think of .

So we open at Saint O’s with Ponyhead returning to the school, having previously run it post rebellion before leaving because.. I don’t know. She probably got tired of being a leader, and out of universe they needed her to be around star more. Look the series has far more important things it never explained and never will, not explaining why a recklessly irresponsible asshole left a position of authority and responsibility I can let slide.

She’s come for brunch but things have changed... the school is still a warm, free environment for princesses to better themselves and party hardy, no longer an oppressive brainwashing gulag run by someone who as it turned out was horribly brainwashed herself.. it’s just now it actually has rules and structure.

It now also has an actual leader, Princess Patty Arms who showed up in the school’s previous appearance this season here and.. that’s it. I think she showed up in the background of the original st o’s episode. And it’s a shame because she’s a really fascinating character. No really she’s calm, dosen’t take Pony’s shit, and while a brunch exam SEEMS like a waste of time... it really isn’t. A good meal can loosen up a dignitary and some rulers have sticks up their keisters about things like this, so being able to do it just right can win them over. It’s still a touch ridiculous but given the world of star is a touch ridiculous to start with, it works.

Pony naturally leaves in a rage over this especially when no one backs her up.. but soon the School has bigger issues and we get to why we’re actually here: Meteora is back. And while she has changed, now having grown larger and stronger, easily scaling the wall, she still wants payback and we get a damn fine battle sequence as the princesses all unite against their former tormentor. It’s also sad in hindsight.. because as Jess pointed out to me almost NONE of these characters show up again. And I only added the almost because Penelope is in there. They all seem interesting, the setting of ST O’s itself is interesting, and the idea of a school for princesses of various types is a cool idea. I’ts something the show could’ve come back to to see how they bounce back from this attack.. but like most cool background elements in the show they forget about it. It was intresting to see the schools slow evolution from horrible nightmare to princess ran utopia and like many things coming up it feels like a lost opportunity.

That being said the fight is awesome, with Meteora proving to be a juggernaut in strength and outplanning her enimies, having brought an overide switch for the robots (Patty reprogrammed them to work for the school) and having them throw their hearts/ power sources as bombs. It’s a damn fine sequence as she finds way after way to keep going, with a now restored rasticore helping them simply portal in.

Pony meanwhile.. is hiding , as Patty find sout when she finds her, and Pony assumes this is about her... though for once i’ts not JUST ego.. but because she was one of the two who started the uprising at the school in the first place and THE person who tossed her out. We also get a nice character moment as while Pony tells patti she still hates her.. she puts the princess behind her when Meteora approaches. She may be a selfish twit whose massively unlikeable.. but she has a good heart.. and not just the one she keeps in a jar she got from one of her boyfriends.

But Meteora has more important buisness and finds her way to the depths of St. O’s.. where we meet the Schools namesake and her adopted mother a robot played by tress macneile.. another thing the series never bothered to care about as where did these robots come from and why?

Turns out Meteora came to find out her own personal history, with the remote from before used to find the real dirt.. and what we find .. is heartbreaking as we slowly journey back through Meteora’s childhoods as Henious.. and it’s fucking heart breaking with Tress voicing her younger versions, hence why I didn’t use this as the jessica tribute as while walter’s good in the episode, she isn’t given much.

We see her as a teen, forced to hide her tail and insulted over it by her mother.. and it only gets worse as when her cheeks glow as a kid St. O tries to wash them off and we get the poor child desperately begging that “she can be better”

We do finally get the answers Meteora saught as we see Shastacan dropping off the baby meteora, calling her “Henious”.. which St. O took as her name. Proving the spiderbites minus penelope’s dickishness is indeed genetic and why I have no sympathy for the prick getting eaten later... and hopefully globgor will do an encor with penepople’s parents. Here’s hoping.

So Meteora now knows she’s the rightful queen, and decides to go take it back.. though Pony does try to stand up for her friends... and while we don’t see it hte next episode confirms she got her horn ripped the fuck off. And this horribly traumatic injury.. is magically fixed via 3d printing next time we see her after an episode grappling iwth it instead of having pony deal with not having a horn, or her prostetic not giving her magic powers again. Because this show again really likes to leave good ideas out to rot in the sun like that package of hamburger I left out in the sun yesterday. And I actually had a reason there: I need a lot of Racoons for an elaborate scheme involving a map to tex cruz’s house, a used apache helicopter and a bulk order of tiny parachutes.

We do get some payoff to things though, as Henious comes on to rasticore who not so politely rejects her for being nuts.. before it’s revealed Gemini, her loyal servant is also a robot and she uses his heart to blow up rasticore and take the arm with her... which is ALSO never brought up again. Seriously this episode is so full of loose ends i’m suprised it just dosen’t end with Zuko asking his dad about his mother. Gemini’s death is genuinely tragic as his last words are “If you wanted my heart.. all you had to do.. was assssskkkkk”. God damn. So with that Meteora heads out to reclaim her birthright.. no matter the cost.

Final Thoughts on Skooled!: This one is decent.. but like the last episode I covered, the lack of payoff off for almost anything here, excluding the Meteora plotline and the Pony thing which instead got a BAD payoff, is really starting to rear it’s ugly head as the series greatest weakness. Yes bigger than the romance plot. And given that romance plot after this season can be best discribed as...

youtube

The show just.. forgets a good chunk of things happened to keeep things chugging along. It sets UP plots, what happens to st o’s from here, buff frog and a small caravan of monsters leaving forever, the message from shastacan, who built the st o’s robots, and on and on.. but it never PAYS them off. It dosen’t care to. It just does things so the plot can move but never bothers to think about the fucking consequences. It just gets more and more irrtating to think about as other shows throughly DO: Amphibia has the fact the characters get into shenanigans become a commented on running gag and something they grow past, and everything that happens matters. Every episode of Owl House builds on the foundation of the previous episodes. OK Ko dosen’t forget one episode had the characters not be able to turn back into humans and implies their wearing human costumes for the rest of the series. Which is fucking weird, but it was their memory. My point is other shows around the same time or right after didn’t magically forget things happened for convience sake. While it’s OKAY to loose some things in the shuffle, it happens to the best of us, it’s not okay to do it SO fucking often and with no clear care for the audiences desire for payoff. The show just ignores what plot points, like the huge cliffhanger of Star telling marco how she felt at the end of season 2, it dosen’t care about till it needs them and ignores the ones it never does. You can’t just.. bring shit up like it’s important and then try and forget it ever happened. People remember stuff, we are NOT stupid. KIDS are not stupid. When I was younger I REMEMBERED things that happened on KND, Danny Phantom, Xiaolin Showdown, TMNT 2003, because those shows, which are from decades ago, knew I would and trusted even if I missed something and was thrown off i’d tune in for the quality.

And in an age of streaming and more story based tv you can’t just.. ask kids to act like something they saw didn’t happen because your fucking lazy and frankly YOU never should have. Kids deserve better, my niblings deserve better and frankly the adults your clearly also writing for.. deserve better. This episode is eh, but the problems it represents are so fucking worse.

Next time on tom. If you thought I got angry towards the end of this one, just you wait. Next time i’ts Booth Buddies. Yeah.. yeah that one. Stay tuned.

#star vs the forces of evil #skooled #lilica ponyhead #meteora butterfly #gemini #rasticore #patty arms #rat princess #penelope spiderbite #saint olga #saint olgas #disney xd #disney plus #disney channel

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years ago

Text

Déjà Vu (Or are we losing our minds?) II -Modern!Shirbert

A/N: Italics always mean it’s a dream. The dreams are my way to write every possible Au!Shirbert bc I can’t get enough of them bumping into each other and falling in love each time, hope it’s not too confusing! -Danny

Words: 1,326

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Two: Can I please get a coffee? (And your heart)

"Oh, god..." Gilbert woke up abruptly, hearing Bash's chuckles above his head after throwing a cushion at him. "Please, just hit me unconscious already..."

"You had a great time last night," The man said gleefully, walking over to the living room's curtains and dragging them open.

Gilbert groaned louder, hiding his face completely under the cushion.

"Please..."

"So you stumbled through the house and gave up on the living room," He continued just as loudly. "Look at you, still wearing last night's clothes!"

"Are you here to mock me or are you going to make me a goddamn cup of coffee?"

He felt a sharp slap at the top of his head.

"Hey!" He sat up, feeling his brain yelling at him for making all those movements.

"Watch your damn mouth! There's two perfectly decent ladies in this house!"

"Sorry," He complained, head falling back and closing his eyes tightly. "Don't ever let me drink like this again."

Bash laughed again, ruffling his disheveled hair.

"I don't know, haven't met drunk Gilly yet, might like him more than sober Gilbert!"

Gilbert scoffed, slapping his hand away.

"Very funny."

"Tell ya what, Blythe," Bash rounded the couch. "Just this once– Because the Orchard's going great, and you've worked hard these months, I'll be a good brother and make you breakfast."

"I don't deserve you," He said sarcastically.

"You don't," Bash agreed. "Don't get used to it, I feel sorry for you and your poor liver, that's all."

Gilbert sighed, his body sinking and drifting back to sleep.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

"Oh my god, look at what Josie sent!"

Anne's eyes opened and looked at Diana with a disoriented expression.

"Wha– Who?" She looked down at the phone in front of her, blinking rapidly.

"Oh, sorry Anne," Diana grimaced. "I'm the worst, I don't allow you to sleep at all!"

"It's okay, I'll sleep once we're home," Anne smiled lazily.

"Home sweet home," Cole said sarcastically. "I can almost hear all the screams..."

"Yeah, yeah, we get it," Diana rolled her eyes. "Your siblings are young and loud– and you hate kids."

"I don't hate kids."

"You kinda do," Anne grinned. "I don't understand, your siblings are so adorable!"

"They're beasts!" Cole groaned. "Running around with their sticky fingers and squeaky voices..."

"They have their own charm, though," Diana smiled. "I remember how Minnie May used to run around the house in diapers, she was a doll!"

"If you guys love my siblings so much I'll pay you to babysit them throughout the holidays. I mean it."

The girls laughed.

"How about I invite you two to a sleepover next week?" Anne offered with a mischievous smile. "You get the snaks, Diana can get the wine and I'll put place and playlist."

"Yes!" Both friends replied.

"Christmas is sounding way better," Cole smirked.

"You're welcome," Anne grinned, leaning her head on his shoulder and yawning almost right away.

***

Gilbert was late for school.

His alarm had failed and now he was frantically running up the street in order to get to his class in time.

However, he stopped short in front of a establishment.

A coffee shop.

His stomach rumbled on queue, he tried to remember if he'd had breakfast before leaving the house, but his frantic preparations seemed to have distracted him from getting a proper meal. He walked into the shop to get a simple coffee and perhaps one of those big cookies these places usually had.

With zero time to waste, Gilbert stood up in front of the counter and started to ask for his order while looking for the exact change.

"One black coffee –no sugar, no milk– and one of those chocolate chip cookies, ple... please."

His voice faltered at the end, finding a pair of striking grey -or were they blue?- bright eyes.

The girl stood there, mirroring his expression until she realized he was now staring at her.

"Right!" She shook her head and turned away so fast Gilbert couldn't catch a glimpse of the name written on the tag of her apron. "One black coffee– and a cookie right away!"

She had astonishing red hair carefully braided, she was about a feet smaller than Gilbert.

"Ahem," Someone cleared their throat behind him and he jumped out of the line, clumsily sliding over to a corner. His eyes moved from the man to the girl who was pouring his coffe into a paper cup.

"Here," She left the cup in front of him with an easy smile.

Gilbert tried to read the tag again, but she was too fast, the girl turned away to grab a cookie and put it inside a small paper bag.

"I don't know how you drink that," She pointed over the shoulder to the drink on his hand. "It's too much caffeine for me– And bitter, which makes it worse."

Gilbert let out a shy laugh.

"Well, I need it if I want to focus during my lecture."

"Oh, student life, huh?" He heard her chuckle. "Yeah, can relate."

"You go to school near here?" He asked as casual as possible, desperately trying to find an excuse to know more about her.

"I..." She turned, her eyes losing focus for the briefest second. "I don't know, actually."

"That's okay," He replied, grabbing the paper bag she was holding out for him and thanking her with a small nod. "When I moved here for the first time all the streets were confusing, but you'll get used to it."

"You got to school here?"

Gilbert frowned. Where was he exactly?

He looked out the window, feeling oddly out of place, like he'd never seen those streets before.

"I'm studying to become a doctor," He knew it was a weird way to answer, but it was the clearest answer he could give.

"Oh, that's quite a big deal," The girl raised her eyebrows. "You're sure you don't want an extra coffee? I feel that you'll need it."

Gilbert laughed. The redhead took the next costumer's order and quickly put it on the counter for her coworker to see.

"No," He replied. "But there's something I'd love to have, if you're truly feeling generous, that is..." Gilbert said, careful with his words.

Her smiled grew.

My god, she was a goddess.

She opened her mouth to reply, but the girl working beside her interrupted their conversation.

"We don't have all day," The brunette hissed. "Get to work!"

Gilbert smiled apologetically.

"To be continued?" He offered.

"Maybe," She shrugged, showing the briefest smile.

Gilbert paid for his food and she put it in the register, taking the receipt and handing it to him.

"Enjoy your meal," She said.

He walked out of the shop feeling defeated, he didn't even know her name!

Just as he was reaching for his cookie, he looked down at the napkin next to it.

There was a phone number written with black pen. Next to it, a little message was messily scribbled.

'I'm free on Fridays ;) -A.'

***

"Breakfast is ready!"

He jumped out of the couch, landing on sideways on the rug.

"Ouch!" He hissed, head still pounding. "Can't you wake me up like a decent person?!"

"No!" He heard Bash yelling back. "You better hurry or I'll eat both plates!"

"Don't you dare touch my breakfast! And please tell me you have the kettle on!" He shouted, grumpily standing up and rubbing the tension out of his neck. "I having the weirdest craving for coffee..."

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

"We're here!" Diana squirmed excitedly, waking Anne up for the thrid time that day. "We're home!"

"Avonlea," Cole sighed. "In all its glory."

They left the bus holding their suitcases and each other tightly, the cold winter wind mercilessly ruining their hair.

"I swear that if I catch a cold..." Cole started.

"Let's just walk to a warmer place," Diana suggested.

"You guys mind if we make a quick stop?" Anned asked, pulling them closer to the sidewalk. "I'm dying for a coffee."

Taglist.

@ninizkd @http-itsrebecca

#twoidiots writing #shirbert #shirbert fanfic #anne with an e fanfic #anne with an e #anne shirley x gilbert blythe #anne shirley cuthbert #Gilbert Blythe #DV fic #awae

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georgemackayhey · 4 years ago

Text

Worth Fighting For (Part: Two)

summary: You’re entirely certain George is the one. So he hasn’t got to put up much of a fight… but in a way, that’s all he knows to do.

a/n: Now is a good time to mention that I know nothing about boxing. My only refreance is a movie about mma and one nights worth of basic research. But all that matters is I'm having buckets of fun writing this! The angst starts to creep in this chapter. Let me know what yall think!

w/c: 4k

Part 1

───※ ·❆· ※───

It was the end of an exceptionally long weekend. You'd managed to throw together last minute choreography for the kids school play, taught a wedding party how to waltz, and helped a friend nail her audition for a foreign dance company.

It was easy as ever, with a broken hand. But everything else was increasingly difficult. You were still getting used to using your one, lame hand to do laundry and cook dinner. But at least you could still dance.

There was nothing better than pumping the music and moving until it ached. Until all you had to worry about was locking up and racing home to shower, and all the things you'd been anxious about all week had long fled to the very back of your mind.

But the weekend was over, and you didn't have an excuse to stay in the studio now that all the kids who came to learn were long gone. But you had a perfectly sound reason for taking longer to do you post class stretches. As you took your sweet time sliding into your jacket and switching out the lights, you kept your eye on the window to the hallway. You tried not to look too obvious, but there was a silly, desperate hope inside of you; to see George.

The gym door remained shut, raucous music thumbing from somewhere deep inside, as you dragged your feet out in the hall. You tried not to look like you were casting glances over your shoulder, or seem too disappointed when you found no one there. When the door to your studio was locked and your adrenalin from class dwindled away, you went on your way.

And while you tried not to think about the funny feeling you got in your chest at the thought of George, you shoved open the door to the parking lot. The sky was a bleak grey and a chill crept past your layers of brightly colored clothes.

"Took you long enough." A voice crept close over your shoulder, causing you to spin around with a gasp.

George was leaning against the stone of the building, the hood of his pale jacket up over his head, strong arms crossed over his broad chest.

"How's your hand?" He asked, like he really cared to know.

"Oh, I'm managing." You decided with a smile, happening to glance at George's. "How's yours?" You asked, noticing bruises on his knuckles that weren't there the weekend before.

George seemed confused, for a beat, before glimpsing down at his fingers.

"Oh, this is nothing." He said. And before you could choose one the dozens of questions you had, you decidedly moved on.

"What are you waiting on?" You asked in a nervous giggle, glancing to his car a few parking spaces away.

"You, obviously." George rose a brow and reached for his bulky canvas bag that rested near his feet. You watched his lean figure shift as he carried the weight over one shoulder and stepped closer.

"Come on, It's my turn to treat you to DeAngelo's." He explained, walking past you to his sleek vintage car. The familiar screech of the city bus caught your ear, and you looked over to notice it stall to a stop, before you followed George's lead.

The ride was quiet. You spent most of the time pretending to be distracted by your chipping nail polish. Even in his silence George was captivating. You couldn't be sure if he'd noticed you stealing glances at him as he drove; but every time you did, you wouldn't let yourself look long.

You couldn't be sure why stepping foot into the diner to get felt different. Maybe it was because you weren't alone. You were mixed among dozens of other dinner parties and the combined white noise of everyone's collective chatter set you at ease. You weren't as shy to let your gaze linger on George as he studied you across the same booth as before.

And much like then, your conversations started mildly. He asked what you were going to order, and you tried not to feel too embarrassed for listing off the same meal. But he grinned and said he was going to do the same. And right as your conversation opened up to grow ever deeper, you were interrupted.

"Miss y/n!" An excited, drawn out greeting rang from a small boy who was busy bouncing your way. You didn't need to turn to know it was little Louis. He was one of your most loyal students. And though you'd never say it to anyone, the small kid was your favorite budding ballerina. Perhaps because he cared so unabashedly for you, too.

All four feet and fifty pounds of the curly headed boy crashed into your side of the booth, his little arms reaching to wrap you in a hug. You let out a surprised gasp and turned to try and greet the boy as soon as you realized he'd appeared.

"Today was lot's of fun. Can we do more big jumps next week?" The boy broke away from you to peer up, big brown eyes full of hope. You chuckled a little and assured the boy you'd planned on it. That's about the time his mother shuffled over, apologizing for her eight years old interrupting your dinner.

"It's alright." You assured, sheepishly glancing over to George who was sat back watching on with a coy grin. The kind of smile that- if you were younger and less confident, might have made you insecure. But knowing the little you did about George, you read no mocking in his expression. Only something more vulnerable you couldn't quite make out yet. You wondered all of a sudden just how exactly to get him to open up, and wondered hopelessly if you'd ever get the chance.

"I'm always glad to see you, Louis." You grinned at the boy, still glancing up to you in the sweetest way. "He's never missed a class in two years." You bragged to George now, who let his grin stretch a little wider.

Then you got the good sense to introduce the guy across from you. You gave his name away, and mentioned that he taught at the gym at Fit For All. Louis mother seemed to light up at the mention.

"Oh, you're Geogre? You know my oldest son, Danny. He talks about you all the time." The woman whose dark roots were nearly longer than the dyed blonde bits of her hair gleamed, and Geogre seemed to glow, too.

"Oh, yes. He's always at the gym, it seems." George sat up a little, peering to the woman Louis belonged to. The mother explained that her eldest wanted nothing more than to grow up to become a boxer. But a shoulder injury at the tail end of highschool ruined his chances. So Danny traded boxing for running, and had completed several marathons since.

George said the guy was great at encouraging the kids who frequented Fit For All, no matter which lesson they showed up for. It was your turn to smile and watch as George and his friends mother gushed over the guy who wasn't even around.

When Louis was coaxed from your side back to his mothers he gave you one final hug and raced her to a table across the room. A silence fell between you and George once more, but it was more familiar than ever. George was the first to break it.

"He was sweet." George smiled, reaching for his drink.

"Must run in the family." You pointed out. "I didn't realize Louis even had a brother."

"Danny is a good guy. He always knows just what to say. Not only to the kids, but to me too, some days." George let out a little laugh. A nervous, slightly bittered chuckle. And while it made you realize a little something more about him, it added to the complexity of George all the while. This guy was going to drive you nuts in no time. You'd let him.

///

And that's how it started. Every Friday, around the same time, you'd pile into George's ride and one of you would cover the bill for DeAngelo's.

Sometimes you got held up, trying to help a girl learn her steps for the schools annual talent show. You'd find Geogre had lingered in and made himself at home on the folded up mats near the door. You caught his gaze in the wall length mirror and tried to hide your blush while you danced on.

Other times, he'd be running behind. You shuffled outside to find George in the middle of what seemed to be a serious conversation with a familiar guy around your age. It was Danny, and you were introduced for the first time like you'd been friends forever. You found the rumors about the guy were true, even in the first few minutes of meeting. Danny mentioned his little brother mentioning you nonstop, and said how he'd been waiting to put your face to your name. George ended the small talk by reaching over and nudging you toward his car.

The slight touch of his arm against yours made you feel different than the only other time he'd touched you before. The last was when he'd rushed in to monitor your injured hand. And you couldn't feel much of anything. But now, when George leaned into you, pushing you away all the while, your nerves seemed to dance on end. But Danny's pleasant goodbye tore your thoughts away, and you waved your working hand to the guy and hoped out loud to see more of him.

Then George drove you to DeAngelos for another week in a row.

///

You hadn't really realized how much time had passed until snow started to fall. Granted the weather seemed to change much earlier than it ever had years prior. But it changed all the same, and it seemed to draw attention to the tradition you'd made of going to dinner with George.

You sat in the same spot almost everytime. And you talked about the same sorts of things. There were always complaints shared, about the growing cold, and the things that held up your week. There was always some kind of exciting news to share, about a new movie coming to town, or the things you'd accomplished during work. You even spoke about things you hadn't been keen on discussing with most other people. Like your relationship with your family and the scariest parts of highschool. Because George asked. He asked you more about yourself than he ever dared to mention his own stories.

"When are you gonna let me come watch you teach kids how to throw a punch, huh?" You teased. George had lingered in the doorway to catch the tail end of a handful of your lessons, by now. And he was always done for the night, when yours ended early.

As you ate your usual dinner, he kept his demure smile and rolled his dazzling blue eyes your way, before changing the subject. And you wanted nothing more than to listen to him talk, so you let your question go unanswered.

"We've been coming here a lot." He pointed out, plain and simply. But the comment made your heart feel like it had grown a layer of steel , sinking ever so slightly.

"Would you rather us go someplace else?" You wondered in a light manner, trying not to seem let down at the possibility of ending your tradition.

"Course not. I'm saying I like coming here." George smiled, then added, "With you."

You bit back your grin from spreading too widely and let the familiar bout of quiet follow.

///

But the next weekend was different and it was all your fault. Your water heater broke on Tuesday. And your landlord called back Wednesday night to say he couldn't help you fix it till he came back to town next week. You had to postpone Friday's class when you realized you were in too deep trying to fix the issue yourself. And while you fiddled with the matter with your non broken hand, a deep regret flooded your system when you realized George would miss you and you had no way of letting him know.

You worried all evening at the thought of standing him up. You crossed your working fingers that he'd still be keen to see you the next weekend; and tried to accept the fact that since your tradition had been broken, the thin connection you shared with George might now forever be lost, too.

By the end of your next week, your landlord was still off on holiday, and had taken to ignoring your texts asking for help. How hard was it for him to call a local mechanic to send your way before he left to go tanning for the day, or whatever?

And as you bared another cold shower and grumpily hurried to head to the studio, your power went out.

"No, no no!" You whined, flipping a light switch a dozen times in a row and wishing and hoping and praying everything would come back to life. You took a deep breath, rushed to the closet where the panel that held your home's power was, and were disappointed to find flipping a few switches there did absolutely nothing. You didn't have time to worry. You couldn't let your kids down again.

Some of them were already lingering outside of the studio when you rushed in, stomping away snow. Little Louis actually cheered and dashed your way for a hug, like he did. You smiled, set at ease by the child's sweet nature.

Then you taught him and a dozen others to dance, and let your worries fade away for an hour and a half. George hadn't slipped into the studio when the clock ticked past your usual meeting time. You tried not to let yourself feel disappointed when your kids shuffled home. You only wrapped up for the day and started to worry over your situation all over again.

But as you locked the doors to the studio, Danny was making his way out into the hall, and George was trailing close behind.

"Hey kid!" Danny glowed, turning to greet you in the dim hall. You shot him a pleasant smile, despite everything, trying not to catch George's gaze. Because his expression was so familiar, now. And he was looking right at you in a way you realized he so often did. And you'd let him down last week, and you had to do it again, now.

He shouldered past Danny as the bulky fellow seemed to decide to go home. He gave you both a quick goodnight before making his way toward the heavy doors. Then you were left alone with the guy you hadn't stopped thinking of since the time he held an ice pack to your knuckles.

"Where've you been?" He asked, like he was much more concerned than disappointed. And while that was nice, it wasn't enough to stop you from wanting to cry a little. God you hoped you didn't look the way you felt.

"I'm so sorry I missed last weekend." You started, shifting in place, under George's study on you. "My water heater broke. Then my power went out. So, now I've got to go home and figure out what to do. I hate to miss another one of our dinners but-"

"What do you need?" His question interrupted your rambles to a halt. You held your breath and looked to the guy for a curious beat before explaining yourself.

"Well I'm just going to grab some things and find a place to stay. Probably just that Motel on Second Street. My landlord is such a-"

"The Second Street Motel?" George grimaced, like he had memories of the place he wasn't over yet. "That place is a dump. And they'll over charge you. Why don't... if you'd like... well you could stay with me." George's confident speech dwindled into something meek as he spoke on. It made you chuckle a little, the way he'd surprised you when you least expected it. And when a moment of quiet passed as you searched his stunning blues eyes, George spoke up more assuredly.

"Only if you want."

"Only if you're sure." Your smile fell away as dozen of nerves rose to your throat as you responded.

"Come on." He nodded, turning to the door in the same fashion he'd always do when you were headed to the one of the only other places you'd gone together. His ride to the urgent care was courteous. His company at DeAngelos was kind. And his offer for you to spend the night was an all new layer of generosity that made you feel the way you did when he touched you a few weeks ago.

///

He waited in his car while you used the flashlight on your phone to throw a few things in a bag. Between your toothbrush, your night clothes, and some things for the morning, you forced yourself not to think about what was happening. You just urged your feet to move and tried not to seem too excited to settle back into George's car.

He drove to his place in a silence that felt different than all the other times before. And when you stole a glance over to him, you could have sworn he'd just turned away from looking over to you. The thought danced through your mind till his vintage ride pulled to a stop outside a row of townhouses. They were just a few roads away from your own, in a quiet, bleak part of town.

George held open his front door as you stepped in from the cold, a baby blue backpack full of essentials in your clutch. And all of your expectations for what Geogre's home might have looked like were not only unmet, but left you with more questions about the guy than ever.

The home was neatly decorated in pale colors. Plants and picture frames decorated every shelf and corner, and the dish towel in his kitchen matched the tea kettle on the stove. It was reminiscent of a much older person's space, with a vibrant charm of someone much more spry. You padded to the cozy living room as Geogre disappeared around a corner, leaving you to think up a dozen more questions about the fellow you were determined to get to the bottom of.

As you eased onto the navy sofa and abandoned your bag, a light came on in the hall and an old orange cat came prancing toward your feet. You glanced down to the pet as it meowed up to you, and stretched to balance against your knees. You cooed, reaching to pet it, before the animal jumped into your lap.

"That's Sadie." George spoke, stepping into the room, slowly making his way toward the sofa. "I was going to apologize for her disregard for personal space but you don't seem to mind." He chuckled.

"Not at all, she's lovely." You grinned, cradling the cat like a baby as purs rattled her delicate frame. George seemed to watch on as you admired the pretty animal in your arms. And when you dared to look back up to him, he sat up a little, from where he was perched on the edge of the couch.

George said something about ordering take away from a place nearby, and you agreed with the condition that you got to pay for it, too make up for his kindness in letting you stay in his lovely home. And much to your surprise, when you realized it anyhow, you felt perfectly content waiting around with George, for the pizza to be delivered. He stuck to his end of the sofa, while you settled into yours, holding fast to Sadie all the while. You talked about usual things, and even laughed over some others, until there was a knock at the door.

George went to answer, as you trailed toward the kitchen, stopping in the hall to admire some of the photos on the wall. There were plenty of his family, or maybe just friends. And even some of George, dressed in boxing gloves, at who must have been his father's side. The older man who looked so much like George held up an award as his son stood by with a shy smile and messy hair.

George found you gawking at his frames on his mission to set the box of pizza on the table.

"This photo is sweet. Did you win this garish award?" You teased, turning to find George wearing a grin reminecent of the one he sported in the photo.

"I did." He said.

"But you don't really do this sort of thing anymore..." You spoke, halfway asking why in the gentlest way you knew that might pry open his closed off manner.

"No I haven't for a while." George said. He poured you both a strong drink, the kind DeAngelos didn't serve.

"Why is that?" You wondered, easing to one of the wooden paint chipped seats at George's kitchen table. You watched him take a sip of the dark liquid in his glass, as you reached for your own.

"It got to be too much." He said, easier than anytime before. Like he actually wanted to tell you. And you kept a quiet eye on him, hoping if you waited long enough, he'd keep talking.

And much to your patient delight, he did.

"I started going to Fit after school, when I had nothing better to do. I'd stay till close, because I didn't want to go home." George explained. You took small bites of pizza and listened on, eyes softly glued to George's every word. And as he ate, he told you that he didn't have a very easy time growing up. How his father was sick, and his mother was never around. How George never thought of his future because he was busy worrying about each day at a time. You could tell he didn't talk about it. Any of it. So you just kept sipping your drink and offering gentle encouragement for him to keep going. Because you wanted to know. You desperately cared to know.

George told you that on one of Bareny's regular stops in, the gym owner took notice of George. How he'd listen to the distant encouragement some coaches gave to students in the ring. How he didn't have the money to take those lessons and stuck to practicing on the mats in the corner. How Bareny noticed, and asked George if he'd like to be trained. How he took up the owners generous offer, free of charge.

And when you nudged him to keep talking by asking all the right questions, George explained that Barney helped him enter into matches that he won like an old pro. How exhilarating it was at first. But those nights would end and George would go home and he would hate it. You knew better than to ask why, as he moved on. You just hoped this was the beginning of him letting you in bit by bit. The first of many stories. You downed the last of your drink while George finished his pizza.

"Well you might not box anymore but I'd still love to watch you teach kids how." You laughed, watching George crack a smile across the table from you. He thanked you for covering dinner and you thanked him for letting you stay over. Then you launched into a sudden ramble about how stressed out you were about what to do, how it might be better to move than to keep combating your landlord. But how you didn't have the funds to put toward either of those options.

"God sorry I sound like a cry baby." You laughed, resting your glass in George's sink as he stored the left over pizza away.

"No you don't. You sound worried, and I'm sorry to hear it. Letting you stay over is the least I could do, really." George shrugged, shifting to face you. He stood a step away, keeping his intimidating gaze on yours. The kind of glare that might have made you feel small if you didn't know George. But you saw past the way he stood so tall and stoically. You saw more of him tonight than you ever had before. And that's what made you unsure of what to say next.

"I think I'll go get cleaned up now." You spoke with a gentle nod, heading to collect your bag. George showed you to the bathroom at the end of the hall before turning away and saying something about changing, himself.

You were left to bask at your reflection in the harsh golden light as the bathroom fan buzzed overhead. You dug through your backpack to find the nightclothes you'd brought along and thought of George as you stepped into the shower. The water was hot, pelting your shoulder blades with a warmth you hadn't had the luxury of experiencing all week. But you hurried along, mindful not to use up all the hot water.

When you changed and took a deep breath and peered back to the mirror, it was covered in steam. So you zipped up your backpack and made your way back out into George's home. Sadie was waiting patiently outside of the door. She wove between your feet as you took care not to step in her path before she settled to walk at your side. Was this some kind of dream, you wondered? Some kind of idyllic alternate universe, where nothing was the matter and the space you occupied was warm and safe and shared by the boy you hadn't stopped thinking of for months in a row?

At the end of the hall, George's bedroom door was open. A soft amber light shone from the bedside lamp you could see. George appeared into view as you were drawn to the space like a moth to a flame. He wore a tattered t-shirt and a pair of cotton joggers you'd never seen him wear before. His yellow hair appeared slightly damp and he looked happy, somewhere in the depths of his usually guarded expression. He looked at home.

Sadie brushed past your ankle, out of the hall and into the living room, leaving you and George the most alone you'd ever been.

He stalled in the doorway as you halted your floating closer. His eyes were softer than you'd ever seen them, sleepier; maybe.

"Right, well goodnight I suppose." You smiled, trying not to let your eyes rake over his figure. You could practically feel how close he was.

"Right." George seemed to decide, letting his eyes search yours for a beat before his glance drifted over your shoulder.

"I'll find you some blankets." He said, slowly stepping past you. But before he could drift down the hall you stopped him. Somehow, you spoke without even thinking, without even knowing you were brave enough.

All you said was his name, like a question. And that was all it took. George turned on a dime and kissed you. He crashed his lips against yours and tangled his long fingers in your hair as he cradled your head. His grip was the only thing holding you in place as you melted into a puddle, against him. When you started kissing George back, he moved one hand down the length of your side as he made one swift move to pin you against the wall. You couldn't help but let out a surprised breath, a sigh, a laugh of some kind.

George responded by kissing you harder, until you could hardly breath. And when you stopped kissing him back to do just that, you felt George's gentle grip against the exposed skin of your hip; tighten ever so slightly.

"Do I still have to sleep on your sofa?" You asked what felt like one dozen questions in one. Your fear of ruining the one in a million moment disguised by a lithe smile. George responded by letting out a laugh, his eyes nearly closing as he did. And when he was finished, he said;

"Come on."

You followed George to his bed, not daring to hide your excitement. He pulled you in with a smile, perhaps the broadest of smirks you'd seen him sport. There was still so much you longed to know about George. So many questions you were eager to ask, so many things you longed to hear him talk about. But spending the night sharing his pillow was a good place to start, you figured. You hadn't expected it of course. You never knew what was next with George. You'd only, simply, hoped for a next time. And with the way he looked at you now, and held on, you rekonned maybe he didn't want you to stray too far, either.

───※ ·❆· ※─── taglist: @haileymorelikestupid @maria-josefin @imaginesandyeah @queen-bunnyears @okaymackay

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagine #george mackay fanfic #Boxer!George

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amerrierworld · 4 years ago

Text

Curtain. (ii)

Carol (2015) fanfiction

Pt 1: x

Word Count: 1,874

Warnings: Swearing, but that’s it.

June - three days earlier

"We need to have any photos before the start of the run, so you have until next week to finish them. Can you do that?"

"Of course, Miss Gerhard."

"Oh, please, call me Abby. Dannie did say you were too polite for your own good. I don't bite, you know."

Therese blushed and glanced down, fiddling with the buttons on her camera as Abby led her backstage. The stage manager gave her a quick tour, and Therese scanned the premises, looking for the best angles to see the stage from the wings. The seats were empty and the lights were dim, focusing on the minimalistic set of a living room as the backdrop of the show.

"Anyways, it's an early preview so there'll probably be loads of kinks to work through as the show progresses tonight, and knowing our director, she'll probably pause the show a lot. You have free range of backstage and the seats to do as you please. The last photographer we worked with during rehearsal only showed up with blurry photos, which sent the PR team into a fit."

Therese was testing out her camera on stage, moving from the wings to the front seats as Abby gestured around. There were few workers around, cleaning and preparing for the preview of the theatre's production of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

"So! All we're asking for is some good photos of our lovely actors, the stage, and whatever tickles your fancy. It's a small show and we need all the promotion we can get," Abby continued. Therese nodded, chewing the inside of her cheek as she glanced around the theatre, taking note of the lights and seats.

After agreeing on her deadline and payment, Abby was typing in her theatre contact in Therese's phone in case anything came up, and the young photographer was quick to hurry out of the theatre, bustling with excitement for her job later that day.

August

"Cheers to finally being done!" Dannie exclaimed dramatically, popping open the bottle of champagne.

"Oh, stop it Dannie! I've been crying since the curtain call," Gen scolded him, whacking his arm with her purse. The actress was dressed impeccably, a silk silver dress draped around her voluptuous frame like she came straight from the silver screen. Therese felt inadequate with her simple green turtleneck and black dress pants.

"Seriously though folks. Congratulations on an incredible run," Dannie said. "I almost cried this time around. Almost."

"You sound just like old bat Gerhard, y'know," Richard stepped in, who was sitting across from Therese with a wide, arrogant posture and his arm slung over Gen's shoulders possessively. "I swear that lady has a stick the size of a tree trunk up her fuckin ass."

"Maybe she wouldn't be so uptight if someone just hit his marks," Gen said coldly. Richard's gaze darkened considerably, but all Gen did was sip her champagne, flicking auburn hair over her shoulder in that celebrity-style manner that Therese couldn't help but admire.

From what Dannie had told her, Gen and Richard had been on and off during the show, creating tension left and right. A classic backstage romance filled with just as much drama as the show they were in. Apparently it helped the actual tension needed during the performance, though that was really the only thing it was good for.

Closing night had been a huge success either way. Critics had raved about their electric performances, tiny hiccups going unnoticed by the audience. Therese was overjoyed to see her images in papers, on posters and on the theatre's website, her name printed in the corners of the photos. Gen had asked Dannie to bring Therese to their small celebration at the restaurant they were sitting in. She desperately wanted more female companionship after being surrounded by the likes of Dannie and Richard.

"Speaking of the fucking devil," Dannie commented, nodding his head to the front door of the small restaurant. Therese turned and caught the sight of Ms. Gerhard -no, Abby, she corrected herself- wearing a stunning jumpsuit. On her arm was a tall, familiar blonde beauty and Therese sucked in a breath as time slowed down for her while watching the two walk in.

Director Ross was dressed in a timeless black suit, bowtie and high heels, hair swept up in a sleek hairdo. The way they walked together was like watching power and confidence personified in the two women.

Therese took a sip of her water to help the blush that she felt creeping up her neck.

"Ah, shit, no way, why they gotta go out for dinner the same place we are?" Richard grumbled. "I really don't want to talk to them."

"Nonsense! They deserve just as much praise as we do," Gen snapped. She stood up from her seat and waved at Abby, who caught sight of the actress easily. Gen always had a way of commanding the room whenever she felt like it.

Therese felt her excitement plummet as she noted that only Abby was approaching their table. The blonde stayed back in their booth, shrugging off her blazer, revealing a crisp white button down that made Therese squirm.

"Fancy seeing you lot here," Abby said, leaning on their table. "Celebrating, I assume?"

Dannie held up the champagne and grinned. "You got that right, boss."

Therese kept her eyes fixed on her glass, afraid that by looking at Abby her gaze would give her away. Were the two a couple? No, of course not. They were coworkers. Nothing more, right?

"Well I saw Gen and just wanted to come over and congratulate you guys. It was a terrific run, despite everything," with a pointed look at Richard, "so you deserve a well-earned night out."

The other three all responded to Abby with some sort of thanks and Therese forced herself to look up at her and smile. Her eyes were met steadily by the brunette, and though the gaze was firm, Abby smiled nonetheless.

"Good to see you again, Therese. A wonderful job on those photos, by the way."

Therese smiled, beaming proudly. "It was an honour, Abby."

What the fuck? An honour? Am I even saying coherent things? Therese tried to keep herself nonchalant and cool, though a prickling sensation on the back of her neck made her flustered. She looked around and found a pair of deep blue eyes staring back at her from the booth across the restaurant. Ross was looking at her intently, fingers grasping a martini glass. Therese felt her mouth go dry.

"I best get back, enjoy your night," Abby said and with that walked away. Therese lost contact with the blonde's eyes as Abby got back to their booth, their sudden and immediate chemistry forgotten.

Reminding herself to breathe, she tried tuning into Dannie arguing with Richard over some theatre related technicality, and she was filled with the sudden and desperate urge to abandon the three and run over to Abby and the director to hide away, just to get to know this Ross lady better.

"But hey, Terry, you're gonna come back to the theatre soon right? With your pictures and all that?" Richard's annoying voice brought her back to reality.

"Oh, I don't know," she shifted uncomfortably. "I've got a different job starting next week, so photography might be on hold for me for a while."

She chewed her lip, not wanting to say anything else. She had nothing against Dannie or Gen, but after her and Richard had broken up she tried to avoid talking to him as much as possible. In group settings, she was fine, and with their intimate circle of friends it was hard to avoid him so she didn't mind putting up with him.

But no, this job was hers. Not Richard's, Dannie's, Gen's. It was a step into a different direction for herself. And even though she told herself it was more for the pay, she couldn't help but be excited about the kids she was going to meet.

Dannie shifted the conversation to some lewd story from a theatre when he had been just starting out and Therese felt she could breathe again.

"Who is that girl sitting next to Dannie?"

"Therese? Oh, she was the photographer we had in just before the run, don't you remember?"

"Hmm right. I thought she seemed familiar," Carol sipped her martini slowly, eyes darting over to the petite brunette again.

"Stop it," Abby scolded.

"Stop what? I'm just getting a good look. It's been a long time since I've seen her."

"Whatever you're thinking of, Ross, you better cap it. I'll have you know she's a terrific photographer and I want to hire her again, though I won't be able to do that if my artistic director decides to... involve herself."

Carol smirked but backed down, leaning back against the seat and glancing out at the dark street, illuminated by hazy lights dancing in the fog that had spread over the city.

"You all set for September?" Abby asked. Carol's smile disappeared, her fantasies of the brunette forgotten as she looked at the year ahead.

"I have no idea, Abby. I haven't had Rindy for a full month since, well, since this whole mess started. Plus it's the beginning of the school year for her, you know how anxious that can make her."

"And you. You're always a mess when those things start up."

"Hush. At least the first week is cleared up for me, I can relax and take Rindy to school, pick her up, make her meals..."

Carol drifted off again in her non-working, stay at home mom dream that was finally happening in just over a week. Her and her daughter together without a show, without court, without fights... Bliss, she thought.

"You haven't forgotten our meeting with Jeanette though, right?" Abby asked cautiously, brows furrowing. Carol's head snapped up.

"What?"

"The meeting to finalize that you're stepping away from the theatre? C'mon, Carol."

"Oh, god, I'm so sorry Abs. I genuinely forgot." Carol whipped out her phone and hastily looked up the email Jeanette sent them. Wednesday. 3pm. At the exact time she was meant to pick up Rindy, she'd be on the other side of the city.

"Fuck," Carol groaned. "I guess I gotta get a sitter for Rindy then." God, she couldn't wait to be done work.

"Do they not have an after school program at Rindy's school? Just let her hang out there and we'll pick her up once we're done. It won't be more than an hour, Carol, I don't know if it's worth getting a sitter."

"No, you're right. I'll call them tomorrow and see what they can do," Carol sighed, putting her phone away.

Suddenly feeling the urge to check, she glanced over at the party from across the room, trying to catch a glimpse of the photographer again. She was disappointed to see that only Gen and Richard were left, who were at it with their usual banter at their table while eating. Dannie and Therese had disappeared.

"Carol," Abby warned.

"I know, I know. Sorry." Carol forced herself back to the conversation. "I'm hopeless, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are, you nitwit."

A/N: Life is insane, y’all. This story stumped me for a bit, but here I am. Hope you’re all good, let me know your thoughts <3

#carol #carol aird #carol movie #carol fanfiction #carol x therese #carol 2015 #cate blanchett #rooney mara #sarah paulson #wlw #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtqia #merry writes

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jasonbrennerold · 4 years ago

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how would you describe jason's overall vibes and key aesthetics? do they change a lot over the course of his timeline? [ and if so, how? ]

theres definitely a Lot of changes over time but also a Lot of overlap

Lab vibes/aesthetics are v self explanatory I think? Hospitals vibes and white tiles, blood stains against pure white and the awful stench of chemicals, water dripping from everything and flames that reach the ceiling, cages and bars and locked doors, an overwhelming feeling of being small

Stranger things timeline generally has general 80s vibes, bright colors and weird patterns, messy hair and chewing gum, turtlenecks and suspenders (both copied from his sister's wardrobe), scraped knees and being covered in dirt, the feeling of being an outcast, a look in his eye thats hauntingly sad, never being quite enough, calling for help and never getting it, hours spent at school and nothing ever making sense, mashed potatoes for almost every meal, footsteps so quiet that no one knows hes there, a childhood thats not quite right, like liminal spaces

modern teen jason is a much happier vibe. bright colors and excited noises, cue cards with animals and letters, fridge magnets in the shapes of letters and numbers that are big and bulky and rainbow colored, messy bedroom where everything is somehow in a specific place, lots of soft toys, giant legos that dont require much fine motor skills, a house that looks like a teenager and a toddler share a room, excitedly showing off what he's learning, hours and hours spent in silence at school but with promising grades, feeling younger and older than everyone else, a fear of anything resembling the lab, flanking science because the class gives him a panic attack, minecraft music on repeat, kids shows in the middle of the night, buying things from infomercials, texts made up of emojis, multiple kinds of therapy multiple times a week, parents with money to burn, sunshine in human form, stealing stiles's clothes

late teen/early young adult arc moves darker again, parties and drinking to feel a little warmth, constantly chasing the next dopamine hit, feeling like hes fitting in but at what cost, pushing away the people he loves, not going to therapy, a strangers house, public bathrooms where the lights barely work, feeling like hes not a real person, failing a few classes even though hes trying, texts with actual words, the realization that sex makes things hurt a little less, at least for a while, a lack of shame one day and an abundance of it the next, so afraid to disappoint that he sabotages any chances of success, frustration beneath the surface, an inability to deal with emotions, anger turning to violence, hurting people because hes hurting, scaring the people who care about him, punching holes in the walls, broken bottles that hadn't been empty

adult jason is nicer. the vibes of recovery, struggling but trying his best, a mirror of his younger self — trying to change his life and his internal processes in a world he struggles to fit into, learning what love is, trying to be better, using his powers for good, aggressively optimistic, back in therapy, helping others, protecting and teaching kids that remind him of himself, desperate to save them from turning into him

battle royale jason is violence, reds and blacks and whites. the vibe of the lab is a comfort rather than a fear, emotions locked away behind glazed over eyes, a boy / a weapon, blind obedience, unaware of anything else. the potential to be a monster but refusal to allow it.

jason in his au with @spiriitum / jonas is consistent softness. gentle touches and tremoring hands, the comfort found only in love, escaping together, helping each other move on, not needing words because they know each other so well, being surrounded by books he can't read, growing into an adult, dependency to a potentially dangerous degree, blood and tied hands and a knight in shining armor, finally getting revenge only to realize you didnt want it, sex that lasts for hours, shameless intimacy, sitting on your lovers lap because you just HAVE to be with them, adjusting to a normal life, becoming the person you needed when you were younger, healing old wounds and trying not to rip them open again, fixing yourself so you can help the love of your life get better, destructive tendencies, long showers, the kind of desperation that only comes from limitless love

in his au with @loverslanetm / travis: feeling small but feeling safe, always running, comparing hand sizes, being the little spoon, the trust to just go along with what happens, being protective but powerless, being carried when walking becomes too much, loving someone so much that you dont care if its dangerous, being the big spoon even though he's the smaller man, diners in the middle of nowhere, driving so long that it feels like you'll never stay still again, watching when you think they don't notice, both too scared to make the first move even though its obvious how they feel

in his au with @shinedied / danny: the feeling of finally having someone who understands you, a dad when you thought you'd never know what thats like, softness when you expect violence, danger around every corner, a small house that looks just like the rest of them, walking through the town center when its empty, always learning, helping each other without knowing it, growing attached immediately, a mental connection thats unmatched, just trying your best when the worlds against you, the fear of failure and the softness of reassurance

#lovetoretm #i really went off here huh #this isnt even coherent i just vibed out thinkin ab the verses #answered.#aesthetic.#headcanons.#dyn: travis meijer / loverslanetm.#dyn: danny torrance / shinedied.#dyn: jonas wilder / spiriitum.

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theyearoftheking · 4 years ago

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Book Sixty-Nine: Doctor Sleep

“All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream...” Edgar Allan Poe

Y’all...if I’m currently cruising through The Golden Years of Steve, than Doctor Sleep is the crown jewel. It doesn’t get any better than this book. It’s one of the few sequels that far surpasses the original. It’s just that damn good.

In the Author’s Note, Steve writes about being on tour for Bag of Bones, and having a Constant Reader ask him whatever happened to the kid from The Shining. Steve admits Danny Torrance never left his mind, along with the concept of sobriety, and what that could have done for Jack. The story he managed to create is terrifying, compelling, and one of the greatest horror stories ever. Period. Come at me bro! It’s my blog and I can make all the grand proclamations that I want. Although, fair warning, if you hate that statement, you’re really going to hate my next post all about The Shining and Doctor Sleep movies.

Doctor Sleep starts with little Danny Torrance, still haunted with images of The Overlook. Desperate for help, Wendy calls Dick Hallorann, asking for help. Dick gifts Danny with a shiny treasure box, which he instructs him to use to capture all the evil spirits, and store them in the corners of his mind. Once the spirits are trapped in the box, they can’t hurt him.

Little Danny turns into black-out drinker and casual drug user, Dan Torrance. Dan wakes up after an epic black-out, and finds himself in bed with a woman, Deenie, who he barely remembers meeting the night before. He stumbles out of bed, finds his wallet empty, and cocaine residue all over the living room table. He grabs money out of Deenie’s wallet just in time to see her toddler stumble out of his bedroom. Dan feels slightly ashamed of taking the money, but not too ashamed to leave it behind. Dan spends the night sleeping under a bridge, and his shine later rewards him with images of Dennie and her child’s dead corpses. They were beaten to death by Deenie’s abusive brother, and Dan feels guilt. Maybe he could have stopped it from happening. He ends up taking a Greyhound bus to Frazier, New Hampshire where he meets Billy Freeman. Billy helps him to get a job, and more importantly, get sober. Dan starts living a life he’s proud of. Well, except for the guilt he still feels about stealing from Deenie, and her eventual death.

And then, there’s the True Knot. The True Knot is a group of vampire-like people who live on the “steam” of children with the shine. The Knot is headed up by Rose the Hat, and they travel around the country in RVs, looking for their next meal. While the Knot is taking steam from Bradley Trevor, a little boy they snatched on his way home from baseball practice, Rose senses the presence of someone watching them. Rose can tell it’s a little girl with the strongest steam she’s ever felt. They need this little girl to grow up, and her steam to get even stronger.

On the other side of the country, Abra Stone wakes up screaming about “the baseball boy” and how they’re killing him. Her parents comfort her, but feel helpless. They are used to Abra’s strange dreams and unusual occurrences (spoons stuck to the ceiling after a magic trick gone wrong). Abra has also been leaving notes on Dan’s chalkboard in his room; they share a connection with “Tony”, Dan’s imaginary friend from childhood. You later find out their connection goes even deeper than that: Dan is actually Abra’s uncle. His dad had an affair at Stovington Prep with Abra’s grandmother, and Abra’s mom and Dan are siblings. Got all that? Dan has been working at a hospice, where he has a reputation for helping patients cross over, with the assistance of Azrael the cat, who seems to have a knack for knowing every time a patient is going to die. Dan is known as Doctor Sleep.

Side note about Azrael. Little did I know, Azrael is the Angel of Death. I just thought it was a hipster nod to Gargamel’s cat from The Smurfs.

Dan and Abra end up connecting because she can’t forget about “the baseball boy”. Dan and Billy drive to Iowa to dig up Bradley’s corpse and retrieve his baseball glove, which Abra thinks will help her track down The Knot.

Oh the Knot... they’re not doing so well. Come to find out, Bradley’s parents never had him vaccinated (a rare time I actually support anti-vaxing parents); and older members of the Knot are catching smallpox and dying. Abra gets inside Rose’s head, and Rose sends the Knot across the country to get her. Abra senses them coming, and Dan shoots them all dead. Except Crow Daddy (Rose’s sometime lover), who kidnaps Abra to bring her back to Rose. Abra uses her powers to get Crow to drive his truck into a tree, killing him. Rose is PISSED.

Good and evil meet at the scenic overlook where (ha!) The Overlook used to be. Dan and Rose fight it out, while Abra astral-projects herself there. It’s a psychological battle of unleashing beasts on one another, but at the end of the day, Rose the Hat is mortal, and falls off the overlook and dies. It’s one of the rare Steve books where the good guys come out with a victory, and come away unscathed. It’s satisfying, and kind of a relief when the other shoe doesn’t drop.

One of my favorite Easter eggs takes place early on when both “Christmasland” and “Charlie Manx” are mentioned. For those that are not familiar, these are NOS4A2 (by Joe Hill) references. When it comes to Easter eggs, you’ve also got:

Castle Rock

Jerusalem’s Lot

“other worlds than these”

“Life was a wheel, its only job was to turn, and it always came back to where it started.”

This post didn’t do this gorgeous book justice. There was so much about sobriety and recovery, which is not only important to Danny and Jack Torrance, but important to Steve also. I just... I can’t recommend this book enough. Quick read The Shining, and then pick this up and fly through it, enjoying every beautiful word.

Total Wisconsin Mentions: 42

Total Dark Tower References: 64

Book Grade: A+

Rebecca’s Definitive Ranking of Stephen King Books

Doctor Sleep: A+

The Talisman: A+

Wizard and Glass: A+

11/22/63: A+

Under the Dome: A+

Needful Things: A+

On Writing: A+

The Green Mile: A+

Hearts in Atlantis: A+

Full Dark, No Stars: A+

Just After Sunset: A+

Rose Madder: A+

Misery: A+

Different Seasons: A+

It: A+

Four Past Midnight: A+

Stephen King Goes to the Movies: A+

The Shining: A-

The Stand: A-

Bag of Bones: A-

Duma Key: A-

Black House: A-

The Wastelands: A-

The Drawing of the Three: A-

The Dark Tower: A-

Dolores Claiborne: A-

Blaze: B+

Hard Listening: B+

Nightmares in the Sky: B+

The Dark Half: B+

Joyland: B+

Skeleton Crew: B+

The Dead Zone: B+

Nightmares & Dreamscapes: B+

Wolves of the Calla: B+

‘Salem’s Lot: B+

Song of Susannah: B+

Carrie: B+

Creepshow: B+

From a Buick 8: B

The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon: B

The Colorado Kid: B-

Storm of the Century: B-

Everything’s Eventual: B-

Cycle of the Werewolf: B-

The Wind Through the Keyhole: B-

Danse Macabre: B-

The Running Man: C+

Cell: C+

Thinner: C+

Dark Visions: C+

The Eyes of the Dragon: C+

The Long Walk: C+

The Gunslinger: C+

Pet Sematary: C+

Firestarter: C+

Rage: C

Desperation: C-

Insomnia: C-

Cujo: C-

Nightshift: C-

Faithful: D

Gerald’s Game: D

Roadwork: D

Lisey’s Story: D

Christine: D

Dreamcatcher: D

The Regulators: D

The Tommyknockers: D

Next up is Revival; which reads more like a Ray Bradbury book, with some Steve-like elements thrown in for good measure. Stay tuned for a Shining/Doctor Sleep movie post soon. Happy New Year to all my constant readers, and thanks to everyone who continues to follow this blog, it’s been a fun ride.

Until next time, Long Days & Pleasant Nights,

Rebecca

#stephen king #doctor sleep #the shining #constant readers #the true knot #nos4a2 #joe hill #the dark tower

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pluckyredhead · 5 years ago

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Daredevil 101: Eurotrip!

This is going to be a long one, folks. I tried to trim it down as much as I could, since I don’t want these sort of intermediary stories to be taking as long to cover as they have, but I was left with cutting it up into two short chunks or giving you one hefty meal. I chose hefty meal, so loosen your belts and tuck that napkin into your collars, kids!

...This metaphor may have gotten away from me.

Last time, Matt escaped from jail and headed to Monaco to track down Alton Lennox, the elusive lawyer who, for some mysterious reason, hired the convict who killed Foggy - who the reader (but not Matt) has just found out is actually alive! We’re picking up with more of the Brubaker/Lark run, DD v2 88-93. The official storyline name is “The Devil Takes a Ride.”

Content Warning: Image of a dead body, mention of murder made to look like suicide.

We start with Foggy, who is trapped in Witness Protection, unable to contact Ben or Dakota or anyone else who might be able to get through to Matt:

It’s not actually clear who the FBI is claiming to be Witness Protecting Foggy from, at this point? All they know is that he was stabbed by a guy at Riker’s, who is now dead, and also Foggy isn’t in Riker’s anymore. Matt’s enemies in general, maybe?

Anyway, this issue is called “The Secret Life of Foggy Nelson” and it’s basically a love letter to Matt. Foggy's narration boxes are all directed at Matt (who can’t hear him, of course), as he explains that he’s always wanted to do the right thing, but he’s been so afraid, especially with the dangerous life they lead:

I’M CRYING. Also, I’ve always loved that Foggy envisions Matt saving him, not Daredevil. Even after he learns that the two are one and the same, Matt is always the part he loves.

Foggy eventually gets so desperate to escape Witness Protection and talk to Matt that he sneaks out of the house he’s being held in and hails a cab that is...idling around this remote suburban neighborhood...suspiciously...

Hmm, yeah, that’s not good.

Luckily, Foggy is rescued! By ninjas!

Foggy’s face in that first panel is amazing.

Anyway, I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. Elektra is leading the Hand at this particular point in time, and she has ordered them to keep Foggy safe. Matt has no idea she’s doing this, of course - he doesn’t even know Foggy’s alive - but she knows what Foggy means to him. Also, she has a demonstrated soft spot for Foggy. I just love everything this says about all of them so much, even if I don’t know why the mafia wanted to kill Foggy. I guess they just be like that.

Thwarted in his escape, Foggy settles in to essentially wait for Matt to settle things in Europe and come rescue him. Meanwhile, Matt is being tormented by dreams of a bucolic Silver Age life with a living Foggy (and Karen!):

Aw, baby.

You can see that as is traditional for when Matt goes to Europe (or imagines going to Europe), he has dyed his hair black.

Matt is in Monte Carlo, because the only client he can find for Alton Lennox in Monaco, a mob boss named Tybold Lucca, runs a casino there:

Matt and his ill-fitting suit - I’m sorry, “Ray Mallory” and his ill-fitting suit - have been using his powers to win like crazy and thus draw Lucca’s attention. It works, as Lucca’s daughter Lily herself shows up to invite him to an exclusive party at the Lucca estate:

When Matt gets to the party, Lily doesn’t seem to be having a great time:

The scent thing is important. Lily reminds Matt of something, and he’s conscious of it enough to realize it’s making him want to bend over backwards to help her, without realizing exactly what - or who - she reminds him of.

The centerpiece of the event is a bullfight. After the bull is killed (Matt doesn’t enjoy that), Lucca announces the aforementioned deal with his “Spanish associate,” i.e. the bullfighter, Juan: Lily’s hand in marriage!

Matt’s moralizing over these strange cultures in the first panel makes me laugh. I know it’s another continent, Matthew, but it’s the same century.

Anyway, yikes! Juan has just killed Tybold Lucca! Also I don’t know how Matt knows the guy with the gray temples is Alton Lennox but whatever!

Matt Daredevils up, but Juan kidnaps Lily and Lennox and escapes in a helicopter. And that’s when something clicks into place, nose-wise:

I love this page. Why does Lily smell like Karen? Who is the mysterious mastermind behind, uh...a matador stabbing a gangster and said gangster’s daughter being kidnapped? What does this have to do with Foggy’s death? It’s a bonkers and extremely extra way of "explaining” this plotline, Brubaker, and I salute you.

Matt pursues Lily and Lennox, because they’re his only lead and because, well, it would be shitty not to. Lily’s scent haunts his dreams:

I love that all of Matt’s sweaty shirtless dreams about his conflicted feelings towards his love interests have Foggy in them, too. Just bro stuff!

Matt tracks the kidnapping victims to another opulent European mansion and finally catches up with Alton Lennox...but too late:

The man who hired Foggy’s killer has taken his secrets to the grave. But Lily is still out there. In fact, not only is her scent all over Lennox’s room, she’s actively being re-kidnapped:

This is Tombstone, who I don’t think has shown up in these recaps before? He’s a mob guy, gray skin, very strong, basically made of stone. A better sparring partner for Luke Cage than Matt “The World’s Most Breakable Bones” Murdock.

Tombstone gets away with Lily. Matt goes on the hunt:

This just makes me laugh. (In the first panel, I believe he’s saying “I can’t promise that you will land in the river.”)

Finally, one of the people Matt beats up mentions seeing Tombstone - and the woman he’s working for. And the whole plot flips over in Matt’s mind:

Yeah, Lily’s not the victim here - she’s the mastermind, or at least she thinks she is. Tombstone is working for her. She��killed Lennox, or at least was there when he was killed. And that dude is Juan, the bullfighter, who killed her father so that they could be together and have all her father’s ill-gotten gangster money.

But how can she smell like both Juan’s mother and Karen? IS KAREN JUAN’S MOTHER??? (No.)

Matt finally catches up with Lily and her “kidnappers”:

Matt, you absolute tart.

Matt manages, rather ingeniously, to take down Tombstone, and the powerless Juan absolutely panics - like, to the point of something chemical going weird on him:

Juan kind of collapses after slicing Lily with the sword (not too badly; also wasn’t it a rapier before?) and Matt knocks him out. Matt then tells Lily he knows she’s been playing him, and demands that she come clean:

And so Matt finally confronts the mastermind behind all of this, the person who had Foggy Nelson killed, who hired Danny Rand to pretend to be Daredevil, who hired Lily and Juan and Tombstone, and who has had at least four loose ends murdered by now:

VANESSA FISK???

But why? Well, as far as she sees it, her life was destroyed by Fisk and Matt’s endless battle, in which she was essentially a pawn. (They don’t mention it directly, but it’s very worth noting that Matt once essentially held her hostage, after she had spent god knows how long as a presumably sexually abused prisoner, in order to manipulate Fisk. Matt didn’t, like, promise not to be a gangster and then marry her and then go back to being a gangster, but he’s not exactly innocent here either.) She is now dying of Killedherownsonitis - seriously, she’s like “the doctors don’t know why all my organs are failing, but it’s because I killed Richard” - and before she goes, she has a deal to offer Matt:

She has enough pull to get the charges against Matt dropped, meaning he can resume his normal life. In exchange, he will get Fisk out of jail. And from then, he’ll know that every time Fisk kills, it will be on his conscience. This is the kind of tortured logic superhero comics end up with, in a world where no one except civilians stays dead and jails have revolving doors, but trust me when I say that this reveal and all of Vanessa’s supervillain explanations absolutely work in context.

Matt’s like “YOU USED TO BE COOL, MAN”:

He refuses to take the deal and storms out. Vanessa tells her minions to put everything into motion anyway, because as she sees it, Matt is essentially selfish, and will ultimately act in his own self-interest.

And so, the FBI Guy who has been trying to bring Matt down for issues and issues and issues is found dead in his apparent from apparent suicide (killing people and making it look like suicide is Vanessa’s signature move, it’s the third one in the Brubaker run so far), along with a note saying he framed Matt who is totally super duper not Daredevil. And Really Incredibly Blind Matt Murdock is found wandering a road back in the States, having “escaped” from being “held captive.”

Matt being Matt, he decides to hold a press conference to explain his kidnapping/disappearance/reappearance, because Matt fucking loves holding press conferences:

Fratt shippers, please take Ben’s line as the gift it is.

Rather than spin the erotic tale Ben is clearly angling for (and that Frank, watching his on his Murder Van TV, is dreaming of), Matt spins some bullshit about Frank hating defense attorneys for putting criminals back on the streets and wanting information on Matt’s clients and yadda yadda. Basically no one actually believes him but everyone likes Daredevil so they’re all like “Welcome home, Regular Matt Murdock Who Isn’t Daredevil!” and then they wink a lot.

Matt is back home, reunited with Milla and Becky and Dakota, when he senses something impossible in the hall:

I will never be over this hug, or those tears, or Foggy’s joyous face in the fourth panel.

Anyway yeah, now that Matt’s officially Not Daredevil, Foggy I guess no longer needs to be protected from Daredevil’s enemies? Or more accurately, the only reason the FBI was really holding him was because of Vanessa’s machinations, and she’s now released him.

What I find really interesting is that she basically justifies it to her minion by saying she’s showing Matt how sweet life can be so that it will hurt more when he inevitably ends up bleeding out in the trash again, but Matt sees it as proof that the Vanessa he knew, the good person she once was, wasn’t totally gone. I think he’s closer to correct.

In return, even though he got what he wanted from her and never promised her anything, Matt gets Fisk out of jail. (Which is, again, the tortured bullshit morality of comics, where you have to get the villain out of jail to do more villain stuff.) The FBI case is so hopelessly compromised that it’s not even hard. But he makes Fisk promise to renounce his American citizenship and leave the country forever, AND he waits until after Vanessa has died so that Fisk can’t bury her, which is pretty vicious. (Matt’s, like...not a nice person, guys.)

And thus this storyline’s all over but the rooftop heart to heart with Foggy!

They are textually talking about Fisk here. They are also textually talking about Karen, who Matt admits that he’s still not over.

But Karen’s death didn’t change Matt so much that the freaking Punisher had to get himself arrested to remind him who he was. Matt has acted erratically since Karen’s death, but Matt has always acted erratically. Foggy’s “death” made him go feral.

So yeah, I think Foggy is talking about two people here (and I think Brubaker wrote the conversation to be about two people). But Matt is talking about three.

Next Up: Lily Lucca comes to New York! It doesn’t end well for anyone!

#daredevil #daredevil 101

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