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a-sin-to-be-rin · 2 months ago

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Needles + Nightmares

Mac needs to get out of here. If only the room would stop spinning.

(A reboot retelling of MacGyver (1985) S1E11 Nightmares)

---

Jack is hungry. It's not a particularly new thing for him, but he isn't expecting it at three in the afternoon. Absently, he worries that he’s finally achieved true seniorhood and now requires dinner before four o’clock.

Then he realizes that he forgot to eat lunch, laughs, and rests well in the reassurance that he still has some youth left in him.

Jack calls Mac and is rewarded with a grumpy voice after one ring.

“What do you want?”

“Easy there, Cujo. What's with all the hostility?”

“Jack, you have called me nine times in the last seven hours.”

“Tenth call’s free, right?”

Mac ignores his hilarious joke. “Can I please have a real day off? Me resetting the password on your Netflix account isn't exactly a vacation.”

“We’re family, hoss. You don't get a break from that.”

“You know what I mean. I’d like to get through one book chapter without you interrupting.”

“Well, okay, here’s an idea,” Jack offers. “Howsabout I order a pizza to your place, and we can separately appreciate it while being in the same room? I promise I won't interrupt your book.”

“First, we both know that's a lie, and second, you can't because I’m not home. And who said anything about pizza?”

“I did. Just now. I’m hungry, and I didn't want to leave you out.”

“Please leave me out,” Mac gripes. “Dear god, please leave me o-” There’s rustling over the line. “Hey, what are you-?”

There’s yelling. Grunting.

“Mac?”

And then nothing.

“Mac??”

The line goes dead.

“Oh, you damn-” Jack has to physically restrain himself from chucking his phone into the wall. He only just replaced it from when Mac decided to duct tape his phone to the underbelly of a government drone. How and why that happened is beyond Jack. But he can't afford to buy another phone right now.

So instead, he uses the phone to call Mac again.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” he chants, praying for a response.

By the time the third ring comes around, Jack hangs up and calls Riley.

“What do you want?”

“God, what is it with people today?” Jack might be panicked, but he still has other feelings. Disrespected being one of them. “Why can’t one person answer the phone with a, ‘Hey, Jack, how you doin’? You sound so handsome today! What can I do for you?’”

“Because you don’t live in a fantasy world, Jack. Because literally no one would say that. And because you’re constantly calling me for text-worthy problems. Unless someone is dead or dying, you don’t need to call.”

“Oh! Oh, well, guess what? Someone probably is dying!” And then the panic hits him all over again. “I, uh, I think someone attacked Mac, and now he won’t answer his phone. I need his location.”

“Looking now,” Riley replies, her voice lowered and all business. “I’ll call him too.”

“I already tried that.”

“Yeah, but maybe he’s just ignoring you.”

“He’s not-” Jack stops himself. He’s been a bit on the annoying side today, he will admit. And if it’s true that Mac is simply ignoring his calls, then that means everyone is safe and okay. Jack will take an angry but safe MacGyver over a potentially dead MacGyver any day of the week.

“His phone last connected to wi-fi one minute ago. Some coffee place in Silver Lake.”

“Mugsy’s?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. But, um, the signal went out. So either Mac broke his phone or-”

“Or someone else broke Mac’s phone. Got it.” Jack is already outside and climbing in his truck. “I’m on my way now.”

“I’ll call Matty.”

Jack almost stops her. Matty is bossy and overbearing and not just because she’s his boss. If this really is Mac ignoring him - which he doubts, but it’s possible - she’ll never let Jack hear the end of it.

But Jack knows Mac isn’t faking a kidnapping to avoid him. He wouldn’t.

“Okay. I’ll call you once I’ve checked out the coffee shop.”

“Cool.” There’s a long pause, during which Riley should hang up. But she doesn’t. “Be careful, Jack.”

“Sure thing, Riles. You too.”

---

It’s dark when Mac opens his eyes. He can barely make out the grimy windows and nondescript desk. Though, to be fair, Mac isn’t sure if it’s truly dark or if his vision is just blurry. The guys standing around him seem to see just fine.

“Nothing? Check his jacket too.”

Mac’s shoulders ache. Like someone got him right on the suprascapular nerves. He’s willing to bet someone did. He can’t remember much from the coffee shop, but that explanation sounds plausible enough.

A man shuffles around the room, digging through Mac’s jacket. He turns it inside-out and upside-down, checking every pocket and feeling the hems for lumps. Finally, he sighs. “List’s not on him.”

Another man, sitting at the desk across from Mac and clearly the evil mastermind of the group, steeples his fingers. “Care to tell me where it’s hidden, MacGyver?”

Mac isn’t sure how they got his name. He doesn’t even know who they are. But he does have a vague idea of what they’re looking for. Uber-secret spy stuff and all that. It’s just too bad that Mac’s really not allowed to say anything about it.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” He shrugs in a what can you do? gesture.

The evil guy stays still in an I’m not buying your story and I’m probably going to kill you gesture. “You see, Barrett,” he says to the man beside him, “Mr. MacGyver thinks he's a tough guy.” He hands Barrett a long blue strip of rubber. Mac has an idea about what that might be. He doesn’t like it.

“But,” Evil Guy continues, “even tough guys can be… ah, persuaded to speak.”

A man appears at Mac’s left side, strapping his arms to the chair. Barrett walks to his right side and rips his shirt sleeve up to his bicep.

“There are many methods I could use to get the information,” Evil Guy promises. “But this is my favorite.” He pulls a needle from the desk drawer.

Barrett ties the blue strip just above Mac’s elbow. His vein sticks out, and it’s then that he realizes just how much trouble he’s in.

“Hey, look, guys,” Mac hedges, wondering if he’s truly buying time for a rescue or if he’s just making this more painful than it needs to be. “I have this thing about needles.” The worst part is that he’s not completely lying. Sure, he can handle needles, but this is… It’s way too much.

“Here’s an idea,” Mac tries. “Why don’t you just try dripping water on my forehead?”

No one seems interested in this alternative.

“The old ‘rubber hose and bright light’ trick?”

Slowly, Evil Guy pulls a vial from the drawer and holds it up for Mac to see. But the joke is on him - Mac’s vision is still too blurry. He couldn’t see what was in the vial if he wanted to.

“Hypnotism!” Mac suggests hurriedly. “It’s been known to work!”

Evil Guy is unflinching. He stands and approaches Mac, stabbing the vial and drawing up the mystery drug. He pauses a moment, glancing at Mac’s arm. “You have good veins.”

Mac’s mouth goes dry. “Thank you.”

Evil Guy flicks the syringe a few times and brings the needle to Mac’s arm.

Mac can’t help it. It’s instinct. He shifts forward and tries to stand. “Aw, c’mon-”

A man grabs Mac from behind, his forearm digging into Mac’s throat.

The irony of it all is that Mac barely feels it. The needle is in and out in a few seconds. He swallows hard, trying not to think about what his heart is now pumping around his body.

“That burning sensation will disappear shortly,” Evil Guy promises, and Mac isn’t sure if the sudden stinging in his arm is real or made up by this new information.

Satisfied with his work, Evil Guy returns to his desk, sitting back in the chair. “This serum was handpicked for you, MacGyver. I’m sure you’re wondering about its effects.”

Which is very true. Mac is wondering very hard about that.

“At first, the serum causes disorientation, double vision, hallucinations,” Evil Guy explains. “When your mind clears in-” he hums in uncertainty “-roughly three hours, the pain will become excruciating. And if that doesn’t convince you to cooperate, well, there’s one more thing I particularly like about this drug.”

Mac thought the disorientation and pain were enough. What more is this guy referring to?

“It will kill you.”

Oh. Of course. Why hadn’t Mac guessed that?

“Of course, it can all be stopped,” Evil Guy assures him, “with this antidote.” He holds up a pill canister. “But if you don’t take the antidote in six hours, the serum is irreversible. Six hours, and you begin to die.”

Evil Guy looks at Barrett. “Begin countdown.”

Barrett nods, secures a watch to Mac’s wrist, and presses a button with a cheerful beep.

Mac glances down, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what the watch reads:

5 hours, 59 minutes.

And counting.

Evil Guy takes the pill from the canister and holds it out. “It’s your choice, MacGyver. To live, or to die?”

---

The coffee shop is almost completely vacant when Jack gets there. A couple patrons sit by the windows. Another sips his drink in a booth by the bathroom. A barista is behind the counter, both elbows on the register and face hidden in his hands. He looks like he could use a cup of coffee himself.

“‘scuse me,” Jack says, stepping in front of the register. The boy snaps awake, immediately straightening and plastering a customer service smile to his face.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah. You seen a blond guy? 5’10”, probably talking about science or something?”

The barista frowns. “Uh… no? No science people.”

“I said ‘probably,’” Jack presses. “He might not’ve been.”

“Okay, so have I seen any 5’10” blond guys? That’s the question?”

“Exactly.”

“Yeah. A lot.”

That’s fair. It’s a pretty vague description.

“Okay, okay, lemme just-” Jack digs out his phone and scrolls through his camera roll. “Here.” He taps a selfie of him and Mac, clearly snapped before Mac could realize there was a camera in his face, and passes his phone to the barista. “Have you seen that guy today?”

“Hm. Um, yeah. He was here twenty minutes ago.”

“Do you know where he went?”

The boy shrugs. “I dunno. Some guys knocked him out and dragged him out to their car.”

Jack needs a second to process that information. “Why didn't you-?” He needs to calm down before he reacts. He might lose it on this kid, and that's not an effective way to get information from a relatively cooperative witness. “Why didn't you call the cops?”

The barista shrugs. “I mean, it happened really fast. And then they left the shop, so it wasn't really my problem anymore.”

The boy’s lack of concern for justice or the wellbeing of others distresses Jack, but there's very little time to worry about the past. “Did you get a car make and model? A color?”

“I dunno. Look, are you gonna buy something?”

Jack slaps a five dollar bill on the counter. “I’ll take a coffee. Answer the question.”

The barista raises an eyebrow. “Coffee is seven dollars.”

“Seven dollars?? What is it made of, gold or something?”

“A struggling economy,” the kid corrects.

Jack digs around for two extra dollars. Finding nothing, he drops his five dollars in the tip jar. “Okay, a tip for a tip, then.”

“Black car. Toyota Corolla, maybe. They dumped your friend in the trunk and turned onto Blaine Street.”

“What’d the guys look like?”

“Dunno. Average height? White dudes, mid-thirties? I dunno.”

That’s not much to go off of. Jack’s done more with less, but that doesn’t mean the task ahead of him is easy. “Where was my friend sitting?” Jack asks. “Where in the shop was he attacked?”

The kid points to a window booth near the entrance. “Second table from the door.”

Jack doesn’t waste any time. He hurries over to the booth. A cup of coffee (Still warm, Jack notes) and a dog-eared copy of a Stephen Hawking text lay abandoned on the table. The condiments are organized in a caddy by the window. And-

Jack clenches his jaw and snatches the one object on the table that he didn’t expect:

A wristwatch that reads, 5:52. But it isn't 5:52. It's barely 4 o’clock.

And then the watch changes. 5:51. And then Jack gets it.

It's not a watch. It's a countdown.

---

There is no way, Mac thinks as he’s shoved into the dirty room, they’re this stupid.

It’s a little room, sure. There’s a shoddy bed straight out of World War II in the corner. There’s a… bucket in the other corner. (Mac tries not to think too hard about the purpose of that.) The door is made of a questionable quality of metal and slams shut behind him.

There’s so much to work with, he wonders if these guys even know who he is. Sure, they claim to know about his most recent job (a handoff of a list of the names of some pretty important guys who are probably almost certainly going to be of interest to the CIA) and they say that they designed this serum just for him. But if they didn’t know not to leave Mac with so much raw material, then they clearly didn’t do their homework.

The lock is old-school - just a metal latch and a padlock - but definitely not outside of Mac’s wheelhouse. In fact, this is basically a fun night out for Mac. Like an escape room but with dirtier floors and also a higher risk of death. The Coney Island of kidnapping scenarios.

The first thing Mac does is shake out his arm. He’s definitely feeling the burning now.

Next, he throws the thin mattress on the floor and flips the bed frame onto its side. He easily threads the springs from the frame and (much less easily) twists the metal wires together to form four short chains. Two conveniently located pipes, each on one side of the door, make perfect anchors as he connects each corner of the bed frame to the wall.

A bead of sweat drips down Mac’s forehead. It’s hot in here, but it seems excessive. He… He definitely should not be sweating this much. His vision wavers, and suddenly there are two, three, four doors swaying past his eyes.

“Not now, Mac,” he mutters to himself, closing his eyes and trying to remember how to breathe. Distantly, he can hear his grandfather talking, and Mac has to take an active effort to ignore it. “Just neurons misfiring in deeply personal and unnerving ways.”

Mac takes a moment to steady himself before shouting at the top of his lungs. “HELP! OH MY GOD, HELP! FIRE! THERE’S A FIRE!”

After a few moments, there’s a long-suffering sigh on the other end of the door. “You’re not on fire, idiot. You’re delirious. God, I get the worst jobs-”

And he is certainly right about that. Mac pulls the bed frame as far as the spring chains will allow, building up tension before releasing the bed. Like a slingshot, the springs shorten and the frame flies away, busting through the door and, consequently, the man behind the door.

Then Mac runs. With a spectacular crash like that, every bad guy in the building is headed his way. Mac sprints out of the room, leaping over the downed man. He flies down the stairs, runs across the warehouse floor, and hurries out the door.

And then his vision gets shaky, his knees go weak, and he faceplants in the middle of the road.

There’s honking. Shouting. Something rushes past in Mac’s peripherals.

Gotta get away. Gotta get away, he thinks feverishly, though he’s quickly forgetting why that is. He starts running.

“Dude, you are so messed up.”

Mac is on the ground again. He’s not sure where he is. All he knows is that the sky above him is blue and the ground below him is rough. Shakily, he climbs to his feet. He goes back to running.

“What’s wrong, kiddo? Are you feeling okay?”

“Grandpa?”

“Do I look like your grandpa? Screw you, man.”

Mac is staring at the grill of an eighteen-wheeler. Another honk. Cursing. Mac stumbles out of the road and takes a quick nap on the sidewalk.

“You can’t sleep here.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m going to kill you, MacGyver.” Murdoc? “But first, I’m going after that little family of yours. So sad, to think that your coworkers are all you have left. And soon you won’t have that either.”

Clicking. Pain. Heat. Spinning.

“What’s your name?”

…

“I said, ‘What’s your name?’”

The blinding sunlight is now grim, nasty, fading fluorescents.

“You don’t have to fake it anymore, man. They’re not gonna take you to the hospital.”

“Mac, you gotta help me! Please, please, please help!!”

Blink.

And then, nothing.

---

They call it a search party. Jack isn’t sure why. There’s plenty of searching, sure, but it sure as hell ain’t a party. It feels more like the night before a big game or a final exam. Everyone is up worrying and prepping for the inevitable, and these few hours before the disaster dictate just how disastrous it will be. And with Mac missing and a digital watch counting down in his last known location, every second counts.

“What was his last mission?”

“Intel retrieval,” Matty snaps, clearly not interested in rehashing an old discussion. “Highly sensitive information that could compromise national security in the wrong hands. But anyone could want that information. Even if that’s why he was taken, it doesn’t narrow our search.”

Matty turns away from Bozer and, in her next breath, is shouting at the Phoenix agents running about. “Okay, people! We’ve got five hours! Keep it moving!”

“There are tens of thousands of black Toyota Corollas in the city,” Riley sighs. “We need a new angle, and his last mission might be our best bet.”

“What about the watch? There’s got to be some reason for it,” Jack reasons. “Why put pressure on us without leaving a list of demands?”

Matty scowls. “That’s… surprisingly insightful, Dalton.”

“Well, I’m surprisingly flattered,” Jack replies, though he flubs the delivery. His mouth turns bitter. Theoretically, a ransom note is bound to show up eventually, but if it doesn’t-

“I’ve got a hit,” Riley announces, failing to conceal her excitement. “LAPD arrested Mac ten minutes ago.”

Bozer frowns, leaning over Riley’s shoulder and squinting at the screen. “Arrested? For what?”

“‘Public intoxication,’” Riley reads.

Jack doesn’t waste time wondering. He’s already headed out the door and towards his truck. “If y’all wanna come with, y’better hurry up,” he warns. He’s not going to sit and wait for the other shoe to drop.

---

He’s back in the cell when he opens his eyes again. The walls are spinning, and his head throbs with every beat of his heart.

“-ac. Mac. You there?”

It takes Mac a moment to realize that the man is talking to him. “Wh- What?” His voice is so shaky and distant that he doesn’t even recognize it.

“What happened, hoss?”

Mac tries to stand, but vertigo keeps him on the floor. “I don’t…” He tries to look closer at the man crouched in front of him. He’s familiar… He’s…

“Mac, you’re scaring me, dude. Don’t make me call Medical.”

Wait. That’s…

“Jack?” he mumbles, reaching out.

Jack instantly takes Mac’s hand and settles his free hand on Mac’s shoulder. “In the flesh, brother.” He goes quiet for a moment (or maybe Mac just zoned out), but when he speaks again, he sounds angry. “They drugged you?”

Mac shakes his head and instantly regrets it. He needs a moment to stop the room from spinning. “Um… I dunno. Who’s… Who’re we talking about?”

But Jack just looks sad. “It’s okay, Mac. Relax, okay? We’ll… I’m gonna get you outta this.”

Mac trusts him.

---

The tox screens come back clean. Head scans are normal. Aside from a few nasty bruises, Mac is healthy. Jack can’t believe it. He’s so clearly not healthy. Not even a little.

Forensics are still running tests on the dirt on Mac’s clothing. On the fingerprints on the watches. On anything and everything they can get their hands on.

But so far? Nada.

“J-Jack?”

Jack practically sprints across the room to Mac, placing a hand on his shoulder to ground him. “I’m here, hoss. I’m here.”

Mac blinks frantically, eyes glossy and hurting. “Jack, where’s- where's Charlie?”

Jack’s stomach sinks. “He’s not here, buddy. Just you ‘n’ me ‘n’ Riley.”

“But…” Mac frowns. It's such a tiny pout that it'd be cute if Mac wasn't scaring the everloving shit out of Jack. “Charlie’s-”

“Fine,” Jack insists, though nothing could be further from the truth. “He’s okay. We’re all okay.”

“Who's Charlie?” Riley asks it slowly, carefully, watching the pair from behind her computer. Her fingers hover over the keyboard, typing stalled to ask the question.

Jack knows the answer, but he looks to Mac first. And Mac is frozen, eyes wide and watching Riley with a paranoid sort of horror. There's not a drop of recognition in his gaze.

They're in deeper trouble than Jack realized.

“Mac, where are we right now? What do you remember?”

Mac blinks again. He hugs his stomach tighter and shifts closer to Jack. Jack closes the distance between the two and wraps his arm around Mac’s shoulders.

“Mac,” he repeats. “Bud. What do you remember?”

“Dunno,” Mac mumbles. “It… It hurts, Jack.”

“I know, buddy. I know. Talk to me, okay? Where are we?”

Mac takes a slow second to look around the room, hesitating as his eyes pass over Riley. “Barracks,” he finally decides. “Afghanistan.”

“Not exactly,” Jack sighs. “Do you remember what happened? Did you see who took you?”

“... ‘s really hot in here, Jack.”

“SoCal boy like you shouldn't have any problems with that,” Jack replies, but his words lack the brevity that the joke requires.

Mac just whines and leans heavily against Jack’s side.

“Jack,” Riley calls, expression beyond terrified. “What's going on?”

“Keep searching the street cams, Riles,” Jack says instead. “We don't have a lot of time.”

---

Mac isn't sure when or how it happens. One minute, he’s a shivering mess in the army barracks, and the next, he's in the Phoenix and feeling… surprisingly normal.

“Jack?” His voice cracks, but Mac can't be bothered to feel embarrassed.

“Still here, Mac,” Jack promises, walking into Mac’s line of sight. “How’re you doing?”

Mac sits up carefully. His vision is no longer spinning. His shirt is damp, but sweat isn't trickling down his back or temples anymore. “I’m… okay.”

There’s a heavy pause. Jack is waiting for more, but Mac doesn't have more to report. He feels okay. Period.

“Where are we?” Jack asks. Obviously, he hasn't gotten a satisfactory answer to this question yet.

“Looks like Phoenix Med.”

Jack frowns. “And you feel…?”

“Totally fine.”

Jack chews on his lip and glances at his watch.

… wait.

Mac reaches out. “Lemme see that.”

Hesitantly, Jack shows him his wrist.

1 hours, 49 minutes.

“So you found an antidote, then?”

Jack’s eyes widen, horror tugging on his lips. “No. No, we weren't even sure… You were poisoned? But you feel okay?”

“Yeah, I feel fine. A little tired, but-”

And then his vision goes white, dagger-sharp agony arcing through his body. He curls in on himself, trying to dull the all-encompassing, undistractible hurt.

“-deep breaths, hoss-”

Jack is talking, but in all fairness, Mac doesn’t understand much of it. He can’t ignore the knife in his stomach, twisting and ripping and biting.

It takes ages - years, decades, centuries - for the pain to abate. It doesn’t go away completely, but the freshly-sharpened ax softens to a rusty band saw. Mac can open his eyes again. He can feel the wetness under his eyes. He can see the blurry face hovering over him.

“-listen to me, okay? You’re gonna be fine. Just keep breathing.”

Mac reaches up to grip Jack’s hand. “Still here,” he rasps.

“What the hell was that, Mac?”

“Think it’s the drug,” he pants, trying to clear the black spots in his vision. “They… They said this would happen.”

“‘They?’”

Mac lets Jack help him sit up again. “Yeah. Yeah, there was… Ugh, it’s starting to come back. I, uh, I was drugged. They wanted the list from my last assignment. They said this drug would convince me to cooperate.”

“What drug? And who did this?”

“Don’t know who.” Mac rubs his eyes and hugs his legs to his chest. “They didn’t say what drug either. Just that it’d kill me in six hours.”

In less than a second, Jack goes from mildly angry and relatively concerned to fuming and out of his mind with worry. “It’d do what?”

“Well, it would make me hallucinate for the first three hours. And then-” He gasps, another wave of pain taking him by surprise. When he’s able to think again, he finds himself flat on his back.

“Is pain a side effect?”

Mac, breathless, nods. “And… and there’s an antidote, but I… I’m not sure where it is.”

There’s a buzzing, and Jack almost ignores it before flashing Mac an apologetic grimace. “Please tell me you have something, Riles.”

…

“Yeah, that might be important.”

…

“Address.”

…

Jack doesn’t say anything before hanging up. It strikes Mac as odd, but then his world lights on fire, and he doesn’t care if Jack is acting odd.

“Be back soon.”

“Wait.” Mac holds out a shaking hand. “Take me with you.”

“Dude, we don’t have time to argue this.”

“Think-” Mac grunts. “Think about it. I need to take that antidote as soon as we find it.”

Jack folds his arms, clearly pissed that Mac is right. “Can you walk? I don’t need you slowing me down.”

“I’ll stay in the - ugh - car.”

But Jack was right the first time. They don’t have time to argue. He reaches down, helps Mac up, and they break out of Phoenix Med.

---

“Mac? How you feeling, buddy?”

Mac swallows vomit, gripping his ribs with fingers desperate for relief. “Peachy,” he hisses.

“I know,” Jack soothes. “I know, I know, I know. Just hang on a little longer. We’re nearly there.”

“Looks…” Mac takes a deep breath, likely riding out another episode of intense pain. (Whoever did this, they will pay. Jack will see to it personally.) “Looks familiar. I think… think I walked through this area.”

“Makes sense,” Jack agrees. “And then you tried to take a nap on the sidewalk and got arrested.”

“Oh.” Mac coughs, shifting awkwardly in the passenger seat. “Is that what happened?”

Jack tries not to be bothered by how little Mac remembers about the last five hours. And then he tries not to be bothered by how Mac only has one hour left.

“Wait!” Mac shouts, pointing left. “There! That’s the one!”

Jack looks away from the road long enough to size up the building. “Uh. You sure about that one, hoss? That’s an IKEA.”

But Mac just nods, sucking in a breath. Pain carves lines into the corners of his eyes. “Yeah, that’s the-” He winces. “That’s the one.”

Ordinarily, Jack would question Mac more. (A bunch of bad guys working out of an IKEA? Really?) But they don’t have the time today. If Mac says he got shot up in an IKEA, he got shot up in an IKEA.

Jack cuts a sedan off as he yanks the car to the left and crosses three lanes of traffic into the parking lot. He parks far from the storefront and looks at Mac.

“This place is massive. Any idea where they hid the antidote?”

Mac looks green again, eyes shut, palm to his forehead, and taking deep breaths. “I… um… There was a cell. Or something.”

“A cell. In IKEA.”

“I don’t know,” Mac grumbles. “I just-” He’s cut off with a hiss, hugging his stomach tightly. “That’s what I remember,” he grits out.

“Okay,” Jack says, hands out in surrender. “Okay. I’ll look for a cell. In IKEA.”

“You don’t need to say it like that,” Mac groans.

But Jack ignores him. “Hey, do us both a favor? Stay outta sight. I keep a gun in the glove compartment if you need it.”

They both know Mac won’t use it. But Jack feels obligated to remind him of it. Just so he doesn’t feel like he’s abandoning Mac with zero forms of defense.

“No, thanks.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jack says. They don’t have time to argue. “I’ll be back soon. Watch your phone, okay?”

“You got it.” Mac gives a thumbs-up, but it’s greatly undermined by the grimace on his face.

Jack sighs. Slams the car door shut. Hurries to the storefront. And then things start to make sense.

It’s not an IKEA. It used to be an IKEA. Now it’s just a giant, empty warehouse with an ugly blue-and-yellow sign out front.

Jack considers being stealthy about this, but his nerves tug at him. Does he have time to fret over being noisy?

Well. Jack has always preferred the loud entrance over silently creeping around. He kicks the door open, guns blazing.

---

Mac wakes up on the floor of Jack’s truck. He doesn’t remember falling asleep. And he definitely doesn’t remember picking up a gun. He sets it on the floor like it’s a grenade and pulls himself up into the passenger seat.

And then he hears the gunshots. Mac’s vision is fuzzy, but if he squints, he can make out a standoff between a few men and one lone soldier.

Jack.

The odds aren’t great - aren’t terrible, really - but they still aren’t great. So with very little thought behind his actions, Mac slides over to the driver’s seat and turns the key in the ignition. His head throbs as the engine kicks on, and he feels vaguely nauseous. Mac doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t linger on it for long. He just puts the truck in gear and drives.

The truck shrieks as it tears through the parking lot and stops dead between Jack and the other men. Mac ducks just in time for bullets to shatter the windows.

“Good to see you, brother,” Jack calls, though when Mac sneaks a look, Jack isn’t even looking back, too focused on the men on the other side of the truck. “Stay in the truck.”

BANG. BANG, BANG, BANG.

“Got h-!” But the cheer dies in Jack’s throat.

Coast clear, Mac sits up and pushes himself out of the truck. He collapses almost immediately, legs turning to jelly.

“Shit,” Jack mutters, catching Mac under the arm. But he’s not talking about Mac. He’s staring at the downed criminals.

“What… What is it?” Mac grunts, trying to ignore the hot fire in his lungs.

“He… I shot him, and he dropped the antidote.”

Mac coughs. “We’ll find it.”

“He dropped it down a sewer grate,” Jack elaborates. “So unless you got the tools to rip a sewer grate out of the ground in…” He checks his watch. “... ten minutes, we’re not gonna get it.”

Mac stills for a moment. And then he’s moving at hyper-speed, trying to ignore the ache in his muscles and the stabbing pain in his gut. He grabs an ancient piece of rebar off the sidewalk and runs up to a fire hydrant.

Jack is a breath behind him. “What are you doing??”

Mac uses everything he has to slam the rod into the fire hydrant. Again. Again. Again.

“The impact causes temporary molecular structure alignment in iron. All the ions run to the other end.”

“I don’t… Mac, you know I don’t speak geek.”

Mac grunts, hitting the rod one last time. “Just made myself a magnet.” He returns to the sewer grate, lowering the rebar between the gaps and struggling to draw the metal canister containing the antidote to the end of the rod. His hands shake, and he nearly drops the rod when Jack takes over.

“I think I get it, hoss.” Jack tries the same maneuver with significantly more success. The canister snaps to the rod, and slowly, slowly, slowly, Jack pulls the rebar up and out of the grate. Once free, Jack grabs the canister tightly and moves away from the grate. Then he dumps the pill into Mac’s hand.

There’s no time to talk. Mac crams the pill in his mouth like a bird is going to swoop down and steal it from him.

Mac sags back, pain still wracking his body. Jack is there to make sure he doesn’t smack his head on the pavement.

“What’s the watch say?”

Mac frowns. Lifts his arm and reads the watch.

00:04

Four minutes.

“Damn,” Jack mutters. “Next time, we’re ordering in, hear me?”

Mac doesn’t have the energy to argue.

#whumptober2024 #no.1 #race against the clock #search party #macgyver 2016 #fic #needles #non con drugging #torture #kidnapping #mac and jack #cross posted on ao3

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ailithnight · 2 years ago

Text

What if all of the above but to to various different Bats as he runs into them.

I'm gonna go with Dick Clone Danny for this, but obviously you could substitute it around. I'm also gonna say bad parents Fentons and Danny on the run AU cause I can't not add just a touch of angst. Of course, that too is entirely optional.

So, Danny runs into Nightwing first and goes "Dad? Is that really you"

"What?"

"Oh, if you don't like Dad... genetic template I guess. Works for Ellie."

"W H A T ! ? !"

"Okay, okay! No need for hysterics! I get it, you probably don't want a clone kid. It's a lot to deal with and I don't exactly have much to offer. I mean, I'd ask if you need any organs, but mine probably aren't even compatible any more, so... I'm just gonna leave you be. Feel free to forget this encounter. Bye!" Danny ghosts Nightwing.

-----

The next Bat Danny encounters is Steph, who does a double take upon seeing him. She encounters him in civvies at a coffee shop.

"You wouldn't happen to be related to Richard Grayson, would you?"

"Who?"

"You know, Richard Grayson? Eldest ward of Bruce Wayne? I swear if you were, like, a decade older you could be his twin!"

"Look lady-"

"Stephanie."

"That's nice. I don't know who you or this Richard is. I'm just passing through town and wanted a coffee."

"So, that's a no on relation to Richard? But you look so much like him!"

"7 people in the world who look just like you and all that. Now if you'll excuse me..." Danny takes his now completed coffee order and dips.

-----

That night Danny meets the Bat himself. Oh, and Robin is there too! Hello sharp metal object. And, wow, Danny definitely understands why people are terrified of Batman now.

"Please don't kill me! I haven't done anything wrong! Well, my existence is kind of illegal, but... do you like dogs?" Danny calls Cujo, who naturally shows up massive, tells him to play with "those 2" pointing at Batman and Robin and bolts while the heros are occupied.

-----

Next is Red Hood, who registers on Danny's ghost sense and seems to materialize pointing a gun at Danny. So, on total instinct, Danny sends him to a pocket dimension designed to bend itself in accordance with Jason's Obsession.

Shit.

-----

(Coming back to 7 in a moment.)

Next there's Black Bat, who is just liminal enough that Danny can feel her tailing him. But now thoroughly in this shit and trying to figure out how to release Red Hood from his Obsession Dimension, Danny doesn't bother trying to prevent her from getting a DNA sample. Maybe the ectoplasm in his DNA will fuck with the results enough they won't match and Danny might stand a chance of getting out of this grave he's dug himself.

-----

After several days, Danny finally manages to pinpoint where Jason's pocket dimension connects to the Realms. It's a simple enough matter after that to go get him. And! Apparently after a few days feeding really his obsession followed by a quick trip through the pure ectoplasm of the zone, Jason's core is full, developed, and healthy. New halfa!

And Jason, no longer drowning in Pit Hanger and after listening to Danny's explanation, is beginning to see humor in the whole situation. Ultimately, Jason says they're gonna have to go to the family and sort this shit out. The clone shit, the halfa shit, and the GIW shit that the League didn't know about.

"I promise Mini Dick-"

"Do Not call me that!"

"How about Baby Dick?"

"That's so much worse! You understand how that's worse right?!"

"Anyway, if B had even half an inkling about these anti-ecto laws, he'd have already shut them down. As it stands, he's gonna be pissed the Justice League missed them and will probably tear a war path figuring out how. We gotta tell him. But, since you've almost gotten everyone already, I see no reason you shouldn't finish what you started and troll Tim and Duke with your existence first." This is how Danny gets some insider information to fuck with the last 2 Bats.

-----

Duke gets the 'Did you forget me? Have your memories been altered?' treatment. And thanks to Jason, Danny knows so much stuff to reference to make it believable.

-----

"Timmy's been on a mission out of town for the last week. He'll be coming back sleep deprived, running on coffee and spite, and will still go out on patrol tonight because he's a dumbass. Tell him he's hallucinating and do your intangible thing. If he buys it, he might actually go to bed."

That's exactly what Danny does. Tim is clearly still skeptical, having been filled in by the other bats about the Clone Case. He doesn't buy it until Danny's ghost half apparently decides that this is the perfect moment to spontaneously develop a new power.

"Look, I'm pretty sure I'm not real. Do real people... pineapple? I guess you seem like a fruit guy. 2 pineapples. Oh, 3 pineapples now. Are you sleep deprived and hungry? 30 pineapples Tim? Really? You really wanna be a math problem guy? I mean, I guess it's you're sleep deprived hallucination, not mine so who am I to judge?"

Tim goes to bed.

After developing the ability to trap ghosts in pocket dimensions where they can feed thier obsessions without bothering him, Danny and co begin to grow bored and explore the Infinite Realms.

Danny had always known he was a clone, with his earliest memory having been being kidnapped from the lab he was made in -via people he still didn't know to this day-and shoved through a mysterious blue portal before being found by the Fentons. Danny accepted he didn't know who his biological parent or parents were and probably never will.

Thats why he was even more shocked than his friends when they went to a place called Gotham and met someone who looked like an older (or in damians case: younger) version of Danny.

Now Danny had a few options for a response. Sure he and his friends could just run but where's the fun in that? He could:

1. Give them a tearful look and say "Dad? Is that really you?"

This can also be said as mom in case of Cass or Selina

This is funniest if its said to either Tim or Damian because Danny is like 15 in this and Tim isn't that much older than Dannys appearent age and Damian looks younger than him

2. Stare at them and say, "Oh, you're the person I was cloned from?" And act like everything's normal. Maybe ask if they need an organ and if thats why they tracked him down.

3. Ignore it and act like its a coincidence they look exactly the same.

4. Act scared of them. Maybe beg them to not kill him for added dramatic affect

5. Ask if they like dogs and shove Cujo into thier arms before they can answer.

They suddenly get rapid fire sniffs and then a torrent of puppy kisses.

6. Panic and trap them in a pocket dimension like the ghosts and have to figure out how to get them out before they get in trouble. Maybe its too late and they have to get them out while dodging bats

7. Try to convince them they're hallucinating

8. Just let them sneakily take a sample of his DNA just to see what happens. Dont even acknowledge the clone thing. Even if presented with the dna tests, Deny, Deny, Deny.

9. Convince them they and the others knew about him for years and that they're memories may have been altered. Escape when their guard is down/they're not looking.

10. Pineapple. Not really sure how that will help but now there's pineapples everywhere. Danny might be hungry if he's teleporting fruit into his vicinity from just a thought, but that may also be because he's suddenly developing teleportation powers.

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captainstevenjohnstonme · 1 year ago

Text

Oliver's Travel's.

Thirteen year old Ollie Wrigley likes playing footy and cricket with his mates going to the movies but most of all Ollie likes to read.

Ollie like all teenagers has acne all over his face, feet that grow so fast he goes through three pair a year, hair under his arms and above his willy and a voice out of tune with his small frame.

After school he plays with his friends until the sun goes down than he goes home has something to eat a warm bath than he rushes upstairs to devour another book.

Ollie will read books and magazines of any genre but his favorite is murder mysteries, thrillers and true crime magazines.

Thrillers are his favorite to read because he can open a bag of crisps and escape to a life full of danger and intrigue also Ollie like to pretend to be a policeman and solve the crime before he gets to the last page.

The year is 1996 and Ollie is lucky to have two parents who love him very much, for his last birthday they gave him a complete set of Funk & Wagnell encyclopedia's that should only take him about five years to read.

Tonight Olie is reading Cujo' by Stephen King the master of horror a genre that Ollie hasn't read before.

When he gets to Chapter Four Ollie's skin become clammy and his heart beats a little faster 'Jesus I can almost hear the screams and smell the blood dripping down the walls.'As he continues to read Ollie sneaks a look over to his bedroom window to make sure that it closed but than he gets out of bed and locks the window.

At 9 o'clock Ollie's mum Jean pokes her head in and reminds Ollie that it is a school night 'Ten more minutes young man than it is lights out.'

'Okay mum but can you please knock before you come in I am thirteen now not seven.'

Jean rolls her eyes before closing the door and going back down the stairs.

Ollie finishes Chapter Ten than he suddenly remembers the magazine that he has stashed under the mattress

A week before one of his mates Simon had given him a magazine that he said he stole from his big brother.

Ollie turns off the bedroom lights grabs the magazine and a torch him the bedstand than he starts to read or I should say look at the pictures in the old Hustler magazine.

Again his skin becomes clammy and the torch keeps slipping from his grip but Olie doesn't seem to mind his hand is gripped tightly around his growing willy.

'Go to sleep Ollie' Jeans calls from downstairs.

'God how does she always know that I am doing something I shouldn't be doing, maybe she is a witch or a gypsy?'

Just before Ollie turned sixteen his parents sat him down and told him they were moving north on the coast near the Scottish border.

'But why I like it here and all of my mates are here so why move?'

'Well son' his father Kenneth answers 'As you know I lost my job last week but i have been offered a job in Hartlepool that is a great opportunity for us as a family.'

Ollie isn't happy but what can he do so he just nods and go up to his room to mope.

A month later a removalist truck arrives at the family home in east London and after the truck is loaded with their possessions it starts the drive up north with Kenneth at the wheel of his trusty Volvo following close behind.

After leaving the capitol the drive along the motorway is smooth sailing and 4 hours later they pull outside of their new home.

'Is this it? Ollie enquires 'It looks like a hovel from a Charles Dickens novel.'

'Don't worry son Jean responds 'It is only temporary, once we are settled in and Ken's job works out we will find a new permanent home.'

Just then the removalists arrive and begin unloading the truck, Jean takes charge telling the men what goes where.

Ollie asks where his room is and Jean walks up a flight of stairs off the kitchen that leads up to a dusty attic. 'I know that it is small and a bit shabby but just remember that it will only be a few months, Kens new employers organized this place for us so lets be grateful for small mercy's and move on.'

'Fine' Ollie says' I noticed a MacDonalds just down the road I will go there while the truck is getting unloaded and come back later.'

Jean and Kenneth watch their son walk away unconcerned knowing that he will soon come around.

Two hours later Ollie goes back home and walks up the stairs to his room and is surprised to see that the attic space isn't as small as he first thought so he happily unpacks the boxes of his stuff and puts socks and underpants in the chest of drawers, hangs up shirts and pants in the wardrobe and an hour later he has his room to his liking.

He immediately picks up reading 'Cujo' and within seconds Ollie is totally engrossed in the story until his mum calls him downstairs 'Honey we are going grocery shopping do you want to come along it will give you a chance to check out Hartlepool.'

Ollie is about to say no thanks when he thinks this will be a good opportunity to see if there are any book shops in town.

They soon arrive at a Costco and Ollie tells his parents that he is just going to walk along the main street to see if he can find a book store.

'Okay Ollie but don't be too long.'

'I won't ma only be fifteen minutes or so.'

After walking along the main street for a few minutes Ollie is starting to get discouraged when down a narrow lane he notices what he at first thinks is a barber shop but when he walks closer Ollie can see that it is indeed a book shop and by the looks of it the store was built by the romans.

The shop is called 'Hartlepool New & Used Books' not very inspiring but Ollie walks in and immediately stops in his tracks because before him are over one hundred shelves of books plus the smell of old books brings comfort to Ollie so he wanders over to a shelf and begins to browse

'Can I help you young man?' Ollie turns around to see an old man standing there 'No thank you me and my family have just moved up here from London and well I have a thing for books so I came in to have a look.'

The man who to Ollie looks a lot like Basil Rathbone returns to the front counter and Ollie wanders around touching the spines of the old books but when he does a microscopic bookworm would wriggle onto his finger and begin to climb.

After five minutes Ollie still hasn't spotted anything of interest and starts to walk out 'Excuse me young man' the old man says pointing to the counter 'Are you a collector of Edgar Alan Poe or other 19th century authors? Ollie nods his head and picks up the book that Basil had pointed at.

When Ollie sees the 5000 pound price tag the immediately puts it back down. 'sorry but my family isn't rich'

'Have another look Ollie I am sure it now has a price to suit.'

Again Ollie picks up a first edition of Tale's of Mystery & Madness and the price tag now reads 50p 'What how can that be ? A minute ago the price was' the old man silences Ollie with a wave of his hand 'A bargain is yours for the taking Ollie do you want it wrapped?'

Ollie nods his head and waits while Basil wraps the book 'There you go Ollie a pleasure doing business with you, see you tomorrow and by the way my name isn't Basil Rathbone it is Cecil Hawthorne seller of books weaver of dreams'.

Ollie walks outside not quite believing what just happened first the old man seemed to know my name than knew that I was calling him Bruce plus how the price changed right before his eyes.

Ollie meets his parents at Costco and they notice that something has upset their boy 'What is the matter Ollie you look like you have seen a ghost.'

'It is nothing mum um I wasn't looking an almost got hit by a car but I am fine now.

'Oh Ollie please be careful in the future and look where you are going.'

Ollie feels bad because he has never lied to his parents before 'I will mum I promise.'

Back at home Ollie eats a meal of roast chicken peas and sauteed potatoes and normally he would demolish the food in a matter of minutes but tonight he only pushes the food around the plate.

'I'm not very hungry mum can I go up to my room and eat later?'

'Of course son just don't forget to eat because it is your first day at your new school tomorrow.'

Up in the attic Ollie changes into his pyjamas gets into bed and turns to page one of the Edgar Alan Poe masterpiece.

As he begins to read the bookworms that have slowly been wriggling up his body for the last few hours now sit on begin to weave their magic.

The attic swirls and dances taking Ollie on a ride back to the 19th century where now Ollie finds himself sitting up in a huge straw bed reading under a gas lamp.

His bedroom is a big with walls made from stone and brick with a ceiling of thatch.

As he reads a lady wearing a white apron enters the room carrying a tray of biscuits and a wooden tumbler of milk 'Would master Oliver like me to fetch him some rice pudding or will the biscuits and milk suffice?'

'Thank you um erf sorry but I seem to have forgotten your name'.

'Are you feeling well master? It is I miss Mary your personal maid.'

Mary quickly rushes to his side and puts a hand to his forehead 'You haven't got a fever master Oliver so I am sure that it isn't the plague that ails you'.

'Plague' Ollie splutters 'Yes master the plague sickness spread through the masquerade ball last night, surely you remember sir?'

'That is why you are isolated up here with nothing but books to keep you company.'

'Do you wish me to seek the doctor?'

'No Mary leave me now I need to rest.'

Ollie has one last look around the old fashioned bedroom than he makes a wish hoping that when he closes the book he will return to the attic and get ready for school tomorrow.

'One two three Ollie opens his eyes and is happy to find himself back in familiar surroundings.

He is sitting up in bed holding the book in his lap with one hand and the other holding the tumbler of milk and when he looks further Ollie discovers that he is still wearing the long white gown that were worn back in Edgar Alan Poe's day.

The bookworms nestle in his ear to rest while they wait for the next adventure to begin.

Ollie Puts the Poe book in his book case not daring to open it again until he finds out from Mister fricking Cecil Hawthorne what the hell is going on but first he needs to clean up before going to sleep for the night.

It is only 8.30 but he wants to make a good impression on his first day at his new school so he wanders downstairs towards the bathroom for a quick hot shower but he has forgotten that he is still wearing the white gown plus he still has the wooden tumbler of milk in his hand.

'Ollie is that you? and what in the hell are you wearing?'

'Of course it is me mum who were you expecting Prince Charles?'

'Don't take that tone with me Ollie where did you find that garb and what is that you are holding?'

Before Ollie can react his mother grabs the tumbler and gives it a whiff. 'Smells like milk but why is it yellow and not white? this isn't the same milk that I bought today Ollie, where did it come from?'

'I don't know mum but I found these old clothes in a chest up in the attic so i put them on while I was reading an old 19th century novel".

'Don't lie to me Ollie I completely cleaned your room today and there was no chest up there, now lets go up and take a look shall we.'

Ollie hangs his head knowing that he has been caught out, all he can do now is follow her upstairs and try to figure out an answer.

Entering Ollie's room Jean suddenly stops 'Well I'll be fucked there is a chest.'

Ollie looks around his mum and sees a big mahogany chest sitting at the end of Ollie's bed and on top of the chest is a tankard of milk.'

'Sorry for doubting you son but I could have sworn that the chest wasn't here this afternoon.'

'That's OK Mum I want tell Dad about you saying the F word if you keep quite about the chest, Deal?'

Mother and son shake hands and both of them keep the promise.

The following morning Ollie is a bit nervous when he walks into Hartlepool High School but soon two kids in his first introduce themselves as Timohty Smith a tall ginger haired boy and a girl Sally Lightfoot who is around the same height as Ollie only she long black hair and a nice smile.

The three teenagers become fast friends and attend all of the classes and have lunch together.

At the end of the day they leave school and walk down the main street because Tim and Sally want to go to the chippy and get a battered sav each to eat on their walk home plus Ollie needs to talk to Cecil Hawthorne 'I will see guys tomorrow morning I am going to check out the bookstore I saw down the lane that I noticed yesterday.

'What bookstore Ollie?' Sally asks 'That crumbling old building down has been condemned for years.'

Ollie doesn't tell them that he talked to an old man inside yesterday but the three of them walk towards the lane and sure the ancient stone building is barricaded and looks like it has been for a long time.

Tim and Sally wave goodbye than walk away eating their after school snack leaving their bamboozled friend behind.

Ollie takes a seat on a bench for a few minutes than walks towards the lane again and sure enough the book shop is lit up like a Christmas tree.'

On entering a tiny bell announces his presence and Mister Hawthorne comes from behind a curtain at the back of the store.' Ah if it isn't Master Oliver himself, did you enjoy your little adventure yesterday? Sorry about not letting your friends on our secret but it is for the best.'

'That is alright because I don't think Tim and Sally are ready for what is happening and come to think of it I don't think I am as well but thank you for having the wooden chest magically appear in my room yesterday, you saved me from a difficult situation.'

Cecil Hawthorne bows his head in acknowledgement ''No trouble Master Oliver I'll wash your back if you wash mine.'

Ollie is a little creeped out by those words but asks 'Why me? There are a millions of other people you could have chosen from.'

'That is correct but you are perfect for the adventures Oliver because you love books and having fun and there is no need to be worried because when you go on a ride and start to feel a little uneasy all you have to do is close the book and you will return home safe and sound but remember to always open the book in your room and no where else.'

Ollie wants to tell Hawthorne that he didn't really answer his question but he stays silent.

'Also Master Oliver I must tell you that when you entered my premises yesterday a trillion tiny bookworms read your brainwaves while you had a look around just to make sure that you are the right young man to undertake the travels and please don't be alarmed but 100 of those worms jump aboard and are now part of your being.'

'These bookworms are for your safety Master Oliver they will guide you along the way and keep you on the right road.'

Ollie for some reason doesn't say a word but he desperately wants to run at the door as fast as he can but his feet refuse to move so he just in place awaiting the details of his next adventure .

On the counter sits a first edition of 'Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain, the book shimmers beneath the fluorescent lights and Ollie picks it up and holds it close to his chest. 'Good choice Master Oliver, now go and when you are ready open the book and begin to read and you will travel to the deep south of America for another adventure.

'Safe travels but remember to open the book in your room only if you open it in a public place well you might not make it back.

Cecil Hawthorne watches his obedient underling walk from the store in a slow shuffle than he goes back behind the curtain and walks way beneath the earth's surface into the cauldron of hell.

THE END.

#horror #bookworm #reading #magic #adventure #travels #hell

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constellaj · 3 years ago

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Can you please talk more about your very cool valerie and cujo concept ? Because honestly that's such a big brain take. I almost always see danny having cujo as a companion but never valerie. Is she going to ride cujo into battles instead of using the hoverboard ?

OKAY SO

in the reboot valerie has actually been fighting ghosts for a WHILE now. actually the audience finds out at the same time danny finds out-- when hes miles high in the sky going after a ghost and this RANDO comes outta nowhere. hold on i have some super rough sketches i did the other day for these bits

the "red huntress" is, according to her, Amity Parks *ONLY* ghost-busting superhero, and amity doesn't need another one;

at school of course danny is complaining about this rando getting on his case (he has no idea who she is) and hes rambling and yelling like "who does she think she IS??? i'm the SUPERHERO AROUND HERE" and sam just blankfacedly goes "dude, shes been superheroing for longer than you." tucker/sam pull up an article on valerie and her stunts from a while ago (altho shes of course just a "mysterious figure" and is more often than not cited as a cryptid, because at this point in the story ghosts are still largely a superstition in amity park) (to elaborate a little, my amity park isnt haunted primarily because of the fenton portal, but it just happens to be a ghost hotspot; val has been fending off ghosts for a couple years now)

at the same time theres also parallels between val/danny regarding the superheroing thing, eg val's dad would think its a waste of her time or too dangerous, etc. the above panel isnt like a final concept but i think it would be rly neat/funny if val also had a friend or two who was the sam/tucker to her secret identity (cant have it be paulina or dash tho bc reasons)

val brings cujo with her everywhere and he just sits in her backpack and he looks. real dumb. and causes so many problems.

danny is never gonna figure out her secret identity btw and she’ll never figure out his i just like it more that way (well except for the big plot twist/finale-ish episode but thats besides the point)

ANYWAY backstory ive rambled long enough as is dancing around the point UHHHHHHHHHHHH

cujo is valerie’s dog. also a halfa

(old art, no longer final)

val has had cujo since before he was a ghost he is just a very excitable lil pubby and she loves him very much

BASICALLY wulf (who is more of a typical wolf/dog and way more malicious) opened up a portal directly ON cujo a couple years ago as an attack

(last one is old art)

but because of how danny phantom rules are, this turned cujo into a halfa instead of outright killing him. this whole Incident(TM) of course gave val an anti-ghost vendetta in 0 seconds flat and now shes got it out for every ghost in amity, wulf especially. after getting over the terror that is your puppy now being able to shapeshift into a MASSIVE GLOWING GREEN DOG, she learned how to train cujo to use his ghostly abilities to their advantage so they can protect amity park better! in ‘normal form’ cujo still looks like a completely average dog (and has more difficulty flying etc without specific commands) so its not really suspicious

valerie hand-made everything else she uses to fight ghosts, including the costume and whatever weapons she has (I still haven’t decided on a signature weapon)-- no hoverboard at all (yet. seasons progress), instead, yes, she rides Cujo into battle! with a few whistles/commands she can have him fly, turn intangible, etc, helping them stay in pursuit of anything that dares attack amity park

i really wanted to keep cujo tied with valerie bc it felt weird to me that he was only used in getting val her powers and then just. didnt come up again (i know the afterlife “moving on” bit was implied but. youd think val would at least adopt a dog later or something). and i also really wanted to cut out vlad giving val her stuff and instead give her her own agency- she is a black belt, after all. so this is the final concept, and man am i pleased w it :)

she still hates danny and they end up being like absolute rivals and she doesnt trust a ghost as far as she can throw it but it becomes more of a bickering-over-how-to-save-the-day one than her directly trying to kill him (until he fucks up, majorly, and even then danny also gets on HER nerves intentionally because, hello, he’s the GHOST EXPERT here). and of course of course the ending of the red huntress DEBUT episode is 100% them having to set aside their differences and work together to defeat Wulf and his owner

#danny phantom #ask #valerie gray #cujo the ghost dog #cujo dp #long post #pet death tw

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sconnie-doesnt-know · 4 years ago

Text

Ransom’s Hallmark Moment

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Word Count: 4300

Warnings: Language, drinking, smut including unprotected sex (imagine that birth control), Ransom's bad attitude and Ransom being soft (what?!)

A/N: written for the Hoelentine's Day Challenge hosted by @chrissquares @amythedvdhoarder and @drabblewithfrannybarnes

My giftee is Heather @hevans-angel and I hope I've been able to fulfill some of your wishes you sweet lady!

So much appreciation for @stargazingfangirl18 and @drabblewithfrannybarnes for helping me and being so supportive and creative! Now, on to the fic!

Aside from the date on the calendar, it feels like a typical Sunday. You got a lot done around the house, allowed yourself some time to relax and baked enough for a small army. Wiping the last of the crumbs away, you proudly look over the pile of treats ready to be given out the next day at work - all sweet and sprinkled and festive in pink and red. Spending the day baking, relaxed and comfortable with old episodes of ‘Bewitched’ on for company is just what you needed before starting another week. Plus, you aren't really alone. There's always Andy.

The wind suddenly blows hard, shaking the windows. You glance outside at the darkened sky, noticing the heavy sheets of snow falling to the ground.

“Shit,” you hiss, making your way to the back door and opening it, “Andy!”

You wait a moment and shout again, “Andy! Come on in!” followed by a series of whistles.

Nothing.

“Oh no, no no please no, not again,” you whine, heading back into the kitchen to find your phone already ringing. You scrunch up your face in a grimace as you answer as sweetly as possible, “Hello?”

“Missing something?”

You roll your eyes, “Yes, I was just about to call you.”

“Yeah, well, he’s here of course. If you don’t get here soon, I might call animal control.”

“You always say that, Ransom, but I know you like him. I’ve seen the water bowl and that old tennis ball by the front walkway.”

“That’s from the housekeeper.”

“Mmhmm, sure. You know I’ll be right there. I’m sorry.”

“Sure you are, see you soon angel.”

You scoff at the nickname. He’s always using a sweet one on you, while calling your dog something far less endearing like hellhound, or fleabag, or even Cujo. The first time he said that one, you looked over at your Lab/Husky mix, with his ears perked at attention and tongue lolling out from his dopey dog smile and laughed like you hadn’t in a long time.

Ransom was less amused.

For some reason, when you moved to the little cottage house set back into the woods, your dog decided to treat himself to adventures which almost always ended with him in front of the wall of windows at Ransom’s home smearing his nose, and drool and mud all over the panes of glass.

That first pickup was not encouraging. You’d been out searching and going down the long driveways of your neighbors to search until you found him at Ransom’s, sitting and thumping his tail against the ground and staring at Ransom through the window, who for his part, stood with his arms crossed and scowling down at your dog.

That was the first time he told you to keep him contained or he’d call animal control.

You gave him your number, begging him to call you instead if it happened again. After a few weeks the promise of calling animal control was more of a joke than a threat.

Half the time you were already on your way over, having noticed the dog had taken off, but the other half, it was a grumpy call from Ransom, complaining about being harassed by some wild beast. Apparently the ability to spin a tale was a family trait.

By the time you got there, Andy would usually be tired out from his little journey and be waiting for you to leash him, allowing you and Ransom to get caught up in conversation. And so began an awkward-sometimes tense-sometimes flirty almost-friendship with the man. You were equal parts grateful and pissed at Andy, because of course he would go out of his furry little way to make an ass of you in front of the most handsome man you’ve seen in real life. Tall, broad-shouldered, stoic and reserved, plus cocky to top it all off - the man was checking boxes left and right.

Weeks later, Ransom was still those things, but also sarcastic, witty, a bit playful and very charming when he was in the mood. You caught the appreciative looks he gave your body when you approached (not that he really tried to hide them), and you allowed yourself moments to linger on his features as well. Your little conversations on his front walkway almost always turned flirty, at least until Andy made his impatient presence known by tugging at the leash or barking to get your attention.

You pack up some cookies, cupcakes, and truffles you made to make some sort of peace offering, grab the leash, and head out to retrieve your little trouble-maker. The thick, wet flakes are heavy, and make the journey down the wood-lined roads slower than usual.

You pull up, squinting through the falling snow, unable to see Andy in his usual spot. You see Ransom walk through the house and to the door, waving you inside, so you hurry from the car, head ducked down to try to avoid the chill and wedge your way in, shaking away the snow once you feel the warmth inside.

“He’s in my garage,” he tells you in lieu of an actual greeting, moving away as you shake off the snow.

“What? You let him inside?”

“Not inside-inside, but yeah. I know better than to leave a pet out in that. Christ. And you know, I keep telling you, princess if you want to see me, you don’t have to keep sending that mutt over as an excuse.”

“Yeah, sure. But what a waste of all that training,” you quip back. It’s almost a routine at this point.

You roll your eyes when he gives you an over exaggerated, proud smile. You immediately want to roll your eyes again because of how good that stupid smile looks on him, too. Your gaze can’t help but travel up and down the length of him, long legs, slim hips that go up to those broad shoulders, all encased in a heavy sweater...with holes torn at the lower hem and at the stomach.

Without thinking, you rush forward to grab the frayed yarn cringing at the idea of needing to replace the expensive garment, “Oh no, did he do this? I know he gets jumpy when he’s excited.”

“No, he didn’t,” he wipes at the front of this stomach. “It’s fine. It’s just like that.”

He can’t even say anything else before you start with more apologizing and rambling, “I am so, so sorry. I swear I only left him out there for a few minutes so he could play in the snow, and he’s been so good. And here,” you thrust the package at him, “I made some food and I hope you have a sweet tooth, and I know it doesn’t make up for the inconvenience and-”

“What’s this?” he asks, shaking it slightly and breaking up your word vomit.

“Uh, it-it’s just like some cookies and stuff that I made.”

“What for?”

“For Valentine’s Day. I made a bunch of stuff because at work we’re doing a thing tomorrow, so-”

“No, I mean why are you giving these to me?”

“Oh,” you hadn’t thought you would need to explain, “Um, neighborly kindness? Gratitude? Because it’s Valentine’s Day?”

“Huh. Does this make you my Valentine?” He laughs and turns on his heel, walking away toward where you can see is the kitchen area.

“For some reason, you don’t strike me as the sweet and cuddly Valentine type,” you call after him, hearing him chuckle in response.

You wait in the foyer for what feels like too long, just listening as he moves around, opens and closes cabinets and goes on like you’re not there. You look around uncertain what you’re expected to do since you usually don’t make it past the doorway until you decide to pull off your boots and hang your jacket over a chair set near the door. You follow the path he made into the kitchen.

“Sooo. Like I was trying to say, I don’t want to bother you,” you say quietly, “I will just grab Andy and head on home.”

“You really wanna drive with that going on?” he gestures to the window. When you look, it’s practically a blizzard and your car is covered in a fresh, thick layer already.

“Shit,” you rub at the side of your face, nervous at the idea of navigating the roads, but just as anxious to not irritate the man staring you down from across the counter. “Not really. Where’s Andy? I wanna check on him.”

He points to a door down the hall. “Garage is through there.”

You make your way through the house with your jaw clenched, unsure with what you might find knowing that Ransom’s not exactly a fan of dogs. So opening the door he pointed to and finding your dog curled up on an old tarp with that familiar worn-out tennis ball, a full water bowl, all cozy and warm inside the otherwise empty garage is not what you expected at all.

Your dog lifts his head, tail thumping against the floor as you approach, but he seems worn out from his romp through the snow, so you let him settle down after making sure he’s alright and head back to Ransom in the living room. A small smile in place of your grimace from a few moments before.

“The garage is heated,” Ransom tells you from his seat on the couch. “Figured he’d be alright in there. Can’t do much damage.”

“That’s...that’s really great.” You’re caught off-guard by the thoughtfulness of it. “Thanks for setting him up. I’ll just wait until it slows down and head back out, don’t want to mess up any plans you had.”

He laughs at that, hard and loud. “No, in fact you and the mutt gave me the perfect out from a family thing.”

“Oh really, don’t let us keep you.”

“Oh no, I’m too busy being a hero during the snowstorm,” he answers dryly, letting silence hang in the air for a few moments afterward. “Drink?” he offers.

“A hero? That’s the excuse you’re giving them?” You try to wave off the drink offer, but then he points back outside.

“I think we’ve got some time on our hands. And yeah, makes for a great story, doesn’t it?” he chuckles to himself.

You glance back to the wall of windows, seeing nothing but swirling white and sighing, “Sure, might as well. But just to let you know, Andy might not be thrilled that you’re using him as an excuse.”

He smiles and gets up from the sofa to pour you each a glass, then turns back and holds yours out to you, “I know a girl, I think she might be willing to put in a good word for me.”

You take a sip of your drink to hide your grin and sit on the sofa when he does.

A little while goes by and despite the somewhat awkward start to the situation, he’s not bad company. Andy is still content with his set-up, nearly ready to tuck in for the night when you check on him again later. When you return, Ransom’s opened the box of goodies, happily making a dent in the whiskey dark chocolate truffles you piled in there.

“So, you’re sure we’re not interrupting anything? No lady or ladies or even gentlemen you planned to entertain?” You ask as you settle back onto the sofa, closer to the center. Ransom had ignited the fireplace while you were up, dimming the lights and letting the orange flames illuminate the space in front of you.

“Will you drop it already? Nothing aside from the usual family obligation to show up, deal with passive aggressive bullshit, then some outright aggressive bullshit, and watching the show when it all implodes. I am happy to let a pretty girl and her big, messy dog give me an excuse to stay home.”

You laugh, trying to brush off the compliment thrown in there, “Hard to believe you want to miss out on all that. Sounds like a real special time.”

“Very special,” he drawls. He wipes some crumbs off his fingers as he shakes his head before adding, “Trust me this is much better.” He tosses his arm over the back of the couch, letting it fall on your shoulders and force you to lean a bit further into him.

“Yeah,” you mutter as you look down to your feet and fumble a string of syllables of incomplete words as you try to remind yourself to not read too much into what he’s saying.

“Oh, come on.” He picks up the slack in the conversation when you still don’t manage to say anything else for a few moments, leaning into your space as he breaks the silence. “So, I finally have you all to myself and you’re gonna be shy for me?”

You look up at him, eyes wide and heat rising in your cheeks and chest. “What?”

The hand not wrapped over you reaches out and pushes your chin up, closing your mouth which dropped into an ‘o’ of surprise. His thumb slides up to trace at the pout of your lip.

“Please, baby girl. Neither of us is very subtle. I don’t really do romance, but we’ve got a fire going, we’re stuck in a snowstorm, and I’ve been wanting to get you all to myself since that mutt first showed up over here. If that isn’t some panty-soaking Hallmark crap right there, then I don’t know what is.”

That makes you laugh, which makes him laugh right along with you. The tension has shaken loose and your smile is uncontrollable. It’s ridiculous - the scenario, his words, that he can read you so well, that he isn’t wrong.

“Hard to believe you don’t have women knocking down your door with all that to offer.”

“Just one woman, and her very stupid dog.”

“Hey,” you start in offense, but still move in when he does, smiling into the kiss. It’s chaste and soft for brief seconds before lips part and your tongues meet. His hands waste no time to pull you closer, tugging you along and making you shift on your knees until he pulls you over him to straddle his lap.

You’re grabbing at everything you can, bunching his thick sweater in your hands, then sliding up and down over his shoulders and biceps, appreciating how solid he feels beneath you. Until finally, you rake your fingers into his hair, ruffling it a bit and then grasping it tightly at the crown to pull his head back, drawing a short moan from his throat.

He tilts back into the pull and you lift yourself up higher on your knees to keep your lips together. When your hands finally let go, allowing him to ease the arch of his neck, you take your time sliding your body down against his torso, pushing your core over the hard bulge in his slacks.

“You gotta ride me, baby.” It sounds like an order, not an option.

Yes. You aren’t sure if you say it out loud, but you feel the air leave your lungs in a rush and your body quivers at just the thought. You don’t care if this is quick, or rushed, or frantic - it’s exactly what you want rightfuckingnow.

His palms rest at the edge of your hip bones, fingers spread and digging into your sides and just slightly pushing and pulling you to get some pressure where you feel that he’s hard.

You reach down, covering his hands with yours and pull them up your sides under your sweater, not so much encouraging as demanding that he move things along. He gets with the program quickly and pushes the sweater up, separating your lips long enough to take it off then pulling you back as quickly as he can. His hands find their own way to the clasp of your bra, making quick work of removing it as well and eagerly touching every inch of bare skin.

When you both start to pant, breaths coming out hard and shaky, he moves his lips to tickle the skin on your cheek, down to your jaw, along the curve there and onto your neck. He sucks at the sensitive skin, nibbling and dragging his teeth when he gets focused on a single sensitive spot that makes you whine out loud.

Your head hangs down to the side, letting him work his way down the column of skin there and sinking into the loose, ragdoll feeling as your body just gives in to every sensation of pleasure. His arms squeeze you against him while he keeps pushing his hips up and into you, teasing you with hints of pressure where you are starting to feel empty and needy.

“Yes,” you gasp, definitely out loud this time. “Yes,” over and over, every time he does something whether it is with his tongue, or his fingers - his blunt nails digging into the sides of your ribs to hold you tightly in place, or the twist of your hips as he lifts his own up against you.

It’s so much, and you’ve only just lost your shirt. It’s not worth waiting anymore. Your mind is set now to just get what you want.

You push away from him. He slowly comes to, eyes glazed and unfocused, a low mutter of “the fuck” slurred from his lips. Before he can reach for you, you lift off him. Your legs are shaky, but you stand as steadily as you can, undoing the button and zipper and pulling down your jeans and panties in a single push.

He watches for a second, then reaches behind him, gripping the neck of his sweater and hauling it up and over his head. He reveals almost exactly what you were hoping for - solid, defined muscles and smooth skin - but there’s more. Hair across his pecs and in a line down the center of his abs, and freckles dotting everywhere on his fair skin. You want to caress and trace every one, run your fingers along imaginary paths and press against him - but it can wait. It’s got to wait.

Impatiently, you kneel, kicking the legs of your pants away and shuffling forward to reach for his belt. His hands settle at his side, flexing, but letting you do what you seem to be compelled to do. You fling the ends of the belt apart and pull at the button and then the zipper, already salivating at the mingling scent of his cologne and sex.

He straightens his hips, lifting from the couch to allow you to shove his boxers and pants down his legs, his cock pulling with them, then bouncing back up once freed. It throbs, slightly bobbing with a rush of arousal and you can’t help but admire the thickness of it, the swollen head that glistens with smeared pre-come.

Heat burns over your skin, and when you look up at Ransom, he’s clearly feeling the same. His cheeks are flushed in patches of pink, his lips red, swollen, and parted as he lets out short, shaky breaths, hair hanging loose and disheveled. It’s more than you hoped for, and it’s disgusting how perfect he looks.

As much as you want to tease, to keep this view while you swallow him down and taste him, your pussy throbs. You promise yourself again to take more time with him later, to lick and suck and taste him the way you want, but you can’t resist at least a taste. You grab his shaft, leaning in to swallow him deeply - just once - and draw a shocked moan from him before pulling off and pushing up from your knees, humming at the taste of him.

“Damn, princess. I thought I was going to ruin you, but fuck, you’re good.” He reaches forward as you’re moving up, his hand grabbing at the back of your head to guide you. He pulls a bit at your hair when you’re back up to the couch and spreading your thighs wide over his. His free hand reaches between your legs swirling through your wet, sensitive slit and pressing the heel of his palm hard against your clit.

“Later,” he promises, “I’m gonna taste your pussy. Gonna lick it all up.” He pulls his hand away and sucks away your juices as they drip down his fingers. The promise is so dirty it makes your breath shake in anticipation. You stare into each others’ eyes, admiring the wreckage between you and moving without guidance to seat yourself on top.

You gasp when you finally feel the hot, hard line of him pressed against your pussy. It feels so thick, and you’re eager to feel the stretch of him pushing inside. You lock your arms around his neck, pushing your breasts together, nipples peaking as they drag along the coarse hair on his chest.

The lips of your pussy spread over his cock, coating him with your slick. His cockhead rubs over your clit, making you shudder and suck in stuttering breath, and that’s it. You can’t take it anymore.

“Can I have your cock?” Deep down, you know you don’t really need to ask.

“Yeah,” he adjusts his hips, scooting himself out a little further to give you more room to settle against him. “You’re gonna fucking ride me, princess. Come all over me.”

“Uh huh,” you breathe out, high and airy.

He takes one hand off you, using two fingers to angle his cock toward you. You lift up on your knees, tipping your hips until you feel him against your entrance. You pause for a brief second to ready yourself, then sink down, taking him all in at once.

The stretch makes you groan, the static-like buzzing mix of ache and pleasure spreading all over and making you throw your head back and deepen the moan.

He huffs out a few quick breaths. “That’s it, oh that pussy is so good. So fucking good, princess,” he mumbles.

Then his hands are back on your hips, warm against the bare skin and strong when he digs the tips of his fingers in to pull you further down, “This cock filling you up? Huh?”

All you can manage is another high-pitched, “Uh-huh,” while you start to roll your hips, barely lifting as you shift back and forth to grind against him, your walls still squeezing him tight.

“Come on, let go, baby,” he whispers, his mouth tight against your ear. Your arms loosen their grip around his neck and you place your hands instead on the muscles flexing at the tops of his shoulders.

You move your knees to get them comfortable and then finally push yourself off him, sliding and gasping as you feel the head of his cock catching just at your entrance again, and after another silent beat, you slide back down, taking his hard length again.

With the space given, he dips his mouth to your breasts, swirling and suckling at your nipples, Harsh, fast sucks followed by quick nips when he catches the hard peaks in between his teeth until you gasp and moan. Only then does he switch it up, his tongue gently rolling over the bud, soothing the stinging ache.

All the while you roll your hips and the burn, the push, the fullness of him inside you is drugging. Your eyes fall closed as you focus on the steadily growing tingle low in your belly.

You start to chase it with slow, dragging strokes, easing up only to drop down and have him bottom out deep inside. It builds fast, making your thighs burn and knees ache as you try to keep your position; one knee has managed to wedge into the corner of the couch and the rhythm needed to build your orgasm conflicts with the concentration needed to keep yourself steady.

“Just take it, babygirl. I got you,” he whispers, feeling your body getting tired on top of him.

He shifts his legs, placing his feet on the ground and pushing up into you, letting you settle on his lap and rock yourself forward and back while his cock stays buried in you. He adjusts his hands to rest just at your tailbone, pressing you steadily against him and giving the pressure needed to your clit when you press against his pubic bone.

Cries start to escape from you, first quiet and breathy, but then building as the air gets pushed out in hard breaths. Your body inches closer and closer to that release, your body hot and burning and there’s a slight moment of too much just before it hits...and then it’s rushing over you - all liquid fire and bliss. You clamp down over him, legs straining over the tight muscles of his thighs.

He pushes up into you, his hands pressing harder at the middle of your back to keep you moving through your release as he works to find his. He hisses through clenched teeth, broken praises coming out on hard breaths.

“Yeah...There...Righthere...God...Fuck.”

When he curls into you, nails digging into your soft skin and breathing heavy against your chest, you know he’s right there.

“Come for me,” you whisper.

“God - yeah!” With one final, hard thrust, he does. You can feel him throbbing and pulsing inside you when he releases, his hips jerking up slightly to keep pushing into you while the tense features of his face soften with relief.

For a moment it’s nothing but panting breaths and the racing beat of your pulse in your ears. Then it’s slow, dragging hands across naked skin and muscle, soothing the tense muscles and tickling sensitive spots and whispering praise to the man beneath you while he hugs you tight to him.

His voice is low and quiet as he asks, “Is the mutt gonna be mad that I stole his Valentine?”

“You like me,” you smile against his neck and tease him with a sing-song voice, “And you like my dog.”

“I like you,” he agrees. “The dog’s okay, too.”

“Does that mean Andy should come harass you again on Friday night?”

“I’ll even get a dog-sitter.” He says with a smirk. “Let him know that 7 would be good.”

Tags: @jtargaryen18 @ozarkthedog @wi-deangirl77 @angrythingstarlight @donutloverxo @navybrat817 @saiyanprincessswanie @sweeterthanthis @sagechanoafterdark @tuiccim

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bloggerspam · 9 months ago

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Hooo boy @jamiethebee. You have given me a literal essay in tags--luckily or unluckily for you, i have a chronic need to answer questions and a borderline disease worthy “talent” in world building! Must be the Autism!

(Please note: For Legal Reasons this is a joke. I have not been diagnosed, please don't make me a poster child or have me as a role model).

For those unaware, this is for my Casseroles and Confrontations AU.

ANYWAY. Buckle up for LORE, we’re gonna break this down bit by bit, and it's LONG.

Yes! In this AU I imagine Damian to be a bit of a grumpy Good Samaritan. He’s a very neat person in general, and I imagine he’s a bit on the spectrum. The Bonus scene was actually based off of an actual memory!

I was at the doctor’s office and my mom left me to go to the bathroom. I was so nervous and bored (internet on the phones wasn’t a thing back then) so I cleaned up and organized the kiddie corner. Alphabetized the blocks and everything.

Anyway.

Damian does meet Cujo, the last sentence is meant to be an implication that Cujo is on his way! Danny is actually p excited about that bc it’s been a while.

Cujo is effectively the King’s Dog, it’s just that he has a lot of free reign and his own haunt, so he only visits when he wants to/when Danny calls. He eats beings who abuse animals. Danny has been trying to stop him (by training him to lightly maim them instead) but Sam not only undoes all his work but actively encourages Cujos bad habits.

Damian’s fruitbatBlob my beloved! This particular fruitbatBlob solidified its form when it found out it liked its job at the compost! Ectoplasm can be very acidic, so the Fentons (more on this later) experimented and found out that the blob ghosts could help with getting rid of rotted foods. Damian’s fruitbatBlob had a particular interest in the rotted fruits, and would spit out the seeds at people who were annoying it. (When it goes home with Damian, it starts stealing Jason’s rubber bullets and uses them as mini “batarangs” to punish anyone not practicing self care)

It’s also important to note that Fruitbats are actually like, REALLY fucking huge--more than you’d expect! (They’re not called Megabats/Flying Foxes for nothing!) But bc in this AU, blob ghosts dont’ get any bigger than a house cat it’s actually p small for a fruit bat!

PHEW. That was longer than i expected, and it’s only the first tag or two! Next!

Yes! My boy Tucker is always neglected in my fics. I am ashamed to say that he doesnt really get much love in my brain fic-wise. I’m just not really smart enough to do techy things, mostly. But i am EXTREMELY happy that he gets a shiny role in this AU. I’ve been trying to think of stuff for my boy bc i LOVE spookberry’s normie AU and that one blurb/comic where Tucker verbally fucks with Riddler’s shitty riddles (you know the one) live in my brain rent-free.

Anyway, the idea that Tucker struggles with his powers just like Danny does was really important to me. Part of Tucker’s constant fear of being downloaded into the internet and never coming back what partially inspired by this one fic, I can’t remember, where Danny says that he constantly has nightmares about falling through the ground and never getting back out. I wish I could link the fic here, but sadly I cannot for the life of me recall where I got it from so please if somebody knows comment it!

Adult Dani is very important to me. Very. It’s not gonna be part of the story, and it’s never gonna be written. But Dani has her own adventures separate from Liminal Amity Park!

I mentioned before that Dani is in Thailand during the events of C&C and that’s because she’s actually mapping out of the Ghost Zone! Natural portals to the overworld pop up every now and then and they only last about 5 minutes or so on average.

She takes those opportunities to explore earth where-ever she’s spit out, and uses the Fenton Portal Gun to “reset” back at Amity Park, when the cycle starts all over again.

She frequently texts Tucker on her own Ectophone and brings Sam plants she finds on her adventures. When she visits, she and Danny talk for hours and hours to catch up, fall asleep in a cuddle puddle, and then take a flight together before she leaves. She visits Jazz and Val together for Tea (and to report her mappings and mental health check ins).

Cycling back to Sam. I wanted to go into more detail on Sam’s powers in her part, just like I did with Tucker’s, but unfortunately how her powers work make it virtually impossible for her to even really dwell on her powers in her own head. Tucker’s POV was laden with chronic ADHD thoughts and oversharing, so it was easy to squeeze it in somehow.

Sam’s powers, however, are a sort of in between of the boy’s powers in that they operate solely on her emotions. Think Raven from Teen Titans (Cartoon Network version). She has to constantly keep her emotions in check, otherwise plants start growing without any really conscious input (i.e. in her POV it was implied that she’s accidentally grown vines that have cracked through marble).

She’s in a constant meditative state, but she’s also a feisty outspoken person so she’s learned to keep things succinct and pointed. She doesn’t mean to “distill jason down” but in the end, it’s true--she usually takes the reigns to “provoke” people with her sharp tongue, and its one of the few “releases” she gets from her emotional lock down. It’s not bad when shes just with the Phantom Team, because she trusts them to be sturdy enough to handle it, but when other people are involved she’s more curt and like, Pointedly Polite or Sassy.

Haha--you’re exactly correct about the PDA thing. However, they don’t get along not because they’re alike, but because they extremely different! Tucker isn’t just a techy now. He is technology. He feels emotional connection with technology in a way that's more than people like me or you can really comprehend. It’s like...Like Ultron, if you’ve seen that Marvel movie. It’s like Jarvis and Friday. It’s like Vision.

Meanwhile, for Tim, technology is a means to an end. He is talented in it, he excels. But technology is nothing to him. It’s another tool in his belt, a hammer or screwdriver in the form of 1s and 0s.

It’s hard to connect with someone when the way they experience the same thing is so fundamentally different.

Bruce tries his best. Constantine....Well. Constantine did the equivalent of “i cant be arsed to actually sort this shit out, so im gonna put it in a box and shove it under my bed” when it came to Amity Park.

Basically, Constantine came to Amity Park after Amity Park got pulled into the Realms (i’m playing fast and loose with canon with this AU), and tried to figure out what was going on. But bc time is Wonky, and Death Magic works on its own rules, Team Phantom ended up sorting it out in 2 overworld days (it was 2 weeks in the Realms). Freshly crowned Ghost King Danny, and young Liminal City Amity Park absolutely did NOT want to deal with the government, so they were like “hey. Don’t come back. Or Else.” and Constantine was like “aight. Bet.”

On a separate matter, the GIW almost destroyed Amity Park in their attempt to destroy the Realms, which would have destroyed like, the World. But Amity Park banded together to collectively say “Hey, Fuck You and The Horse You Tried To RIde In On.” and so now white suits are Banned, and any time the GIW try to come into the borders they get mercilessly shot down (that’s the state of things before C&C).

When the batbros get involved, Batman basically verbally eviscerates Constantines irresponsibility in not researching further, because Anti-Ecto WHAT now? Are you saying my SON could be EXPERIMENTED ON?

Anyway, at his son’s urging and full disclosure of the involvement of Royalty he exercises Restraint and Doesn’t Deep Dive into Amity Park and their lives. (which is great, because if he did Danny would have fucking LOST it. He’s had enough of self-righteous assholes stalking him for their own deluded sense of ‘i know whats best’ thanksverymuch).

He leaves Amity Park alone and updates the League’s file as a....supernatural nation state. He keeps passive tabs on the residents in the same way you would be like “welp, those are VIPs and if they get trafficked it’s gonna be an INTERDIMENSIONAL INCIDENT”

Anyway, bc his sons are way better than Constantine at Getting Information He Needs from basically Nothing, Batman totally does away with the Anti-Ecto Acts and gets rid of the GIW! Danny gives him the right to consult him on World-Destroying Threats for the League in repayment, under the caveat that he’s literally the last resort if he's physically needed (he can’t interfere too often as Ghost King).

The Fentons aren’t mentioned only because this AU is, drum roll please, a Good Parents AU! When they find out that Danny is a halfa, they are so horrified about what they’ve done, they get so depressed they start to not function. Jazz has to kick them back into gear, and enrolls all four of them into family therapy. With the help of Team Phantom and the Yetis, they conduct ethical experiments on ectoplasm in order to keep Quality of Life high for the residents of Amity Park.

I want you to know I have two OC Yetis in this AU that will never show up. Hailwind and Frostfreeze are the Far Frozen representatives in the Amity Park Liminal Wing of the hospital. They were chosen because they were the smallest of the yetis, and therefore more approachable/easier to navigate the halls of the hostpital. Frostbite comes to deal with Jason's case because Danny is asking, and he is King, so it is a Special Case.

Hailwind and Frostfreeze handles the AP branch by themselves with the help of a dozen or so ghost blobs in their "employ." These little blobbies take the form of mini yetis (imagine fluffy little snowballs with eyes and horns! They have little arms they can pop in and out of existence too for chore purposes!)

After the Realms debacle, basically all Amity Park residents are on the spectrum for Liminality. Most of the time that means nothing. See below for the scale of Liminalty (and what that means) and how that’s spread amongst the APers.

Liminality Scale:

(Normie) 1-20% - No Powers, effectively normal, but some have demonstrated a passing low-level empathy. (I.e. they can communicate a little easier than the average human with Blob Ghosts!)

(Lesser) 20-50% - As above. Mostly manifests physically---glowing eyes, fangs, pointed ears, claws. Hair color may also be affected, as some APers have noticed green or purple tints in their hair. Note: Only one or two features would be affected.

(Mid) 50-80% - As above, but it’s usually more than 3 or 4. They have also demonstrated affinities towards specific interests. (i.e. jumping a little higher if they’re on track and field, reads a little fast if they’re in book club)

(Full) 80-100% - These Liminals have all of the above, but powers have manifested, usually only one.

Break down of AP population:

Normie - 70%, usually the elders and adults.

Lesser - 25%, young adults, older teenagers, and infants/toddlers.

Mid - 14%, younger teens and kids. Ectoplasm really “likes” 9-16 year olds for some reason. (Danny’s entire class falls under this category because of the frequent attacks when he was first turned into a halfa. They were exposed to Ectoplasm much more than the average APer)

Full - 1%, Mostly Team Phantom.

To answer your questions:

Star and Paulina have fangs and glowy eyes respectively. Paulina sparkles at certain angles, and Star can project her mood a lil bit (seen in the driving scene)

Dash has claws, and he’s salty about it bc he keeps puncturing footballs. He's a little more sturdy than average.

Maddie has a low level technopathy (she makes things Work)

Jack has actually exhibited his power before---he’s hardier than the average person, certified Kool-Aid Man.

Bonus:

Jazz has High Level Empathy and we firmly Do Not Talk About It for sanity reasons.

I don’t know what Val’s power is, she won’t tell me.

Wes has low level foresight.

There are weapons, but most of their energy is going towards medical stuff for the city, so only the existing ones and only a very small quantity (essentially what they’ve already built).

The bats do know these weapons exist, but Phantom has only given them permission for the thermos and the specter deflector. Royal decree.

He was recalling his lessons with Frostbite regarding ectoplasm! Frostbite has actually told Danny about the negative effects of ectoplasm before, but the term “pit madness” hasnever been used. I won’t go too into it since this post is already shit ass long, but basically Frostbite doesn’t know what pit madness is either, and Jason’s issue will be a new problem to solve!

They do eventually check out the arcade that Danny talks about on their own, but for a while they are...monitored by the entirety of Amity Park, so they don’t leave the hotel too often other than to eat.

All of Amity Park is connected via a very weird low level empathic connection (this is just a fancy way of saying blob ghosts can totally gossip and small town mentality/rumor mills are totally exploited and Real) so they are vaguely aware.

Blob Ghosts generally only listen to Danny, (because its a Dog-Eat-Dog world for them, and Danny is the Strongest) so they don’t generally talk about what he’s up to. But they will Absolutely spill the tea on Sam and Tucker, and so all of AP are aware there are Strangers and they’re totally kind of low key hostile about them (remember, there was a brief moment where it was just Tucker, Sam, and the boys whilst Danny was fighting Skulker!).

They’re all terrible fucking gossips so they’re very standoffish until the baby blobbies give Damian the theoretical Green Stamp of Approval, and it’s “reported” that Jason and Dick were seen leaving Frostbites office! Also Tim wrestling with Tucker is actually seen as Cool and Fun, because now they know that Ghost Socialization involves Fighting your Friends.

Basically, after the boys come by more often for their respective visits, they eventually get accepted. Damian almost right away, Tim after his third visit (where he basically just comes to yell at Tucker about ghost technology and Tucker says “how about you go fuck yourself” until they eventually end up with a compromise in the form of some kind of new ecto-tech and TIm leaves), and Jason and Dick after Jason’s 5th appointment (which happens before Tim’s third visit! Tim doesnt visit often for obvious reasons).

===

Thank you for the wonderful questions, and for helping me build this world out :)

DP x DC prompt #189

You know those prompts where Danny refuses to enter Red Hood's territory because he knows not to enter a ghosts territory? Yeah, this is the opposite.

Batman sends a few of the Batfam to Amity Park to investigate the ghost sightings. When they get there, however, Jason refuses to step into the town due to some instinctual feeling he has.

#casseroles and confrontations #in depth lore!#will i ever continue this AU in story format?#maybe!#probably not!#but it's not a no!#i am always fuckin down for some delicious world building though #one might even say its more my forte

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bitch-i-migth-be · 4 years ago

Text

Crash Course | Chapter 05: Priorities

Fandoms: Danny Phantom, Batman,

Relationships: Danny Fenton & Jazz Fenton, Danny Fenton & Jazz Fenton & Vlad Masters, Ember Mclain & Kitty, Danny Fenton & Cujo

Characters: Danny Fenton, Jazz Fenton,Cujo, Ember Mclain, Kitty, Lunch Lady, Younblood, Skulker, Johnny 13, Random ghosties mentions *boo*, Vlad Fucking Masters Everyone

Words: 6′582

Tags: BAMF Danny, Ghost zone shenanigans, Sibling bonding, Shenanigans, Swearing, Family dinners, Heteronormativity?? The fuck is that, Danny in Cosplay, Ghost King Danny,

Summary: He swore his sister was trying to make him go into cardiac arrest - considering his halfa status that was quite the accomplishment-

But there was no other explanation to his sister’s stubbornness, and if he knew her at all there was just no talking her down from interning at goddam Arkham.

A/N:

Some of you *coming here for the fights, angst and The Drama™ that a DP & DC crossover inevitably involves*: “Hey-”

Me *Trying to write fluffy shit to liberate and soothe my deranged soul from this mortal prison*: “S'up?”

-.-.-.-

This is so long compared to the other chapters. Whhy is this so loooong. UGH- It’s almost double the length of the first four chapters together? I thought it was less? This would have been bigger if I hadn’t posted chapter 4 first? What is happening

THIS IS ON AO3, IF ANYONE WOULD PREFER TO READ THERE. LOVE COMmENTs so if u have anything to say IwillBeReallyHappyYesThankU

CHAPTERS: 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7

-.-.-.-

Phantom was currently drifting on the Ghost zone trying to hunt down his next unsuspecting victim among the ghosts.

‘Oh, how the turn tables.’ the halfa chuckled.

Jazz had kept her word and after pulling an all-nighter they had come up with some interesting options.

Now he just needed to pull them off.

The sound of growling at his back made him freeze on his tracks. He turned around to look at the source of the sound.

“Oh,” Well, this certainly had not been on the plans. To stumble upon such a mighty beast this early on. He smiled. “Hi, Cujo!”

The happy barking that followed the greeting was rather endearing, normally whenever he crossed paths with the pup he would spare some time to play with him and teach him some tricks. After some months of the pup following him around and of the halfa trying to deny to anyone who would listen, especially Val, that the dog was not really his, Danny finally gave up and got him a new collar.

The little guy was quite spoiled nowadays.

Sadly, right now he was on a timeline.

“Sorry, bud. No playtime today, I’m on a rather tight schedule.” Phantom cooed softly, reaching down to briefly scratch behind the pup’s ears.

Cujo sat on his hind legs, paws in the air and tail wagging, effectively cutting off his path.

Not like he couldn’t try to fly around, mind you, but with a dog that could go gigamax on your ass, it was better to just talk your way out.

Just when Danny was about to open his mouth the pup upgraded to excited wiggling on the non-existent floor of the zone.

The halfa sighed to himself. Fond smile growing without his explicit permission.

“Cujo-” he tried, just to be interrupted again. “And there goes the whining, Oh. My. God.”

The boy covered his face with his hands, not daring to look until the sounds stopped completely. After a moment, he finally took a peek from between his fingers.

Sad, puppy dog eyes were looking up at him, small little whine making a comeback.

Fucking shit.

He was going soft.

-.-.-.-

“Match head.”

The sound of the nickname momentarily dragged Ember’s full attention from the tuning of her guitar to the new arrival.

“Baby Pop.” She took notice of the green puppy posing as a hat on the white-haired boy’s head and snorted, eyes going back to the guitar. “Blessed the eyes. You going Cruella on us now or what?”

“Please,” The boy jested. “Like we need a remasterized skulker around here.”

“At least the woman did it for fashion.” She hummed. “You would make a horrid carpet, you are too fucking skinny.”

“Excuse you, bitch.” Phantom shot back, irritation clear on his voice. Ember rejoiced on it.

She faked a gasp,“ Are you saying you want Skulky to make you into a rug, baby pop? Scandalous!”

“T-that’s not-!” the halfa spluttered before Ember cut him off.

“What do you want, cupcake? It’s not like you to venture so far into the Zone willingly unless you are looking for blood.” She questioned, carefully putting her guitar back in the case.

The boy huffed.

“Whatever, Ashley,” he grumbled under his breath. “I think it’s time we revisited the terms of our agreement ” The boy sat by her side nonchalantly, not noticing — or outright ignoring — the sudden rise in temperature as the girl’s blue hair flared violently, a deep frown marring her face.

Cujo did notice. But the little doggo was more distracted with the movement of the pretty light-emitting hair, and the fluffiness of the hair on his current method of transportation to register the imminent danger to his fur.

Priorities.

“Revisit? You want to fucking revisit?” She growled. “I will tell you what you can fucking revisit-!”

The halfa just laughed at her reaction. Ember’s hair doubled in length. The laughter died off.

Her hand was getting dangerously close to her guitar.

Danny swallowed hard, deciding to just get on with it before Ember tried to use the instrument as a wanna-be war hammer again.

“It’s quite the contrary, my dear flaming hot,” he rushed to appease her “I want to expand on it,” he said, throwing in a sickeningly sweet smile for good measure.

He hoped it was enough to regain her attention in a more positive light. He didn’t want to explain to Jazz why his ghost form’s eyebrows were singed off. Again. He didn’t have time for more lectures. Thank you.

Luckily, If the hair-inferno reducing to a cheerfully blazing bonfire and the growing smirk taking over ember’s face was any indication he had succeeded. Cujo whined for the loss. Danny wanted to squeal for the win.

He did not. But it was a very close thing.

“Oh ho, now we are talking, baby pop.”

-.-.-.-

The window of opportunity to pull this off was very small. He had to take into account the amount of time that had passed since the last fight, the reason for the aforementioned fight, and how much of an emotional investment the objective really held for it to be a proper detonator.

This operation required surgical precision, which meant a lot of preparation. And research.

It was a good thing it happened so often.

“I will be direct with you, sister,” Phantom spilled, sprawling himself on the free seat on Kitty’s right side. “your bitch boyfriend doesn’t know the jackpot he hit with you and that just ain’t gonna fly.”

knowing where Kitty would end up after a fight with Johnny was not a problem. tracking down which bar she was going to be crashing for the aftermath was the real problem.

Danny hadn’t even known there were bars in this place.

In the last months of his treaty with one Ember Mclain, he had learned plenty of- interesting facts about the Zone that he would prefer to forget. Not that he really had an option, Jazz had taught him early on that information on the enemy — and sometimes on friends —was a valuable asset to ensure victory.

So he would play dumb about knowing these things. But he would not forget about them.

Couldn’t afford to forget them.

If the Ghost Writer pulled another surprise quiz on him and the answers were less than perfect the man would riot.

The halfa stretched out a hand to take a menu and leaned his elbows against the bar-top. Cujo chose that moment to leave his position on the teen’s head to sit next to his forearm so he could peer at the menu too.

He skipped the drinks section and went straight to the food. There was no way he was getting any alcohol.

Don’t get him wrong. They would serve him whatever the fuck he wanted if he asked for it on the zone, but the teen had tasted it before and hated it with a passion. Fuck the peer pressure. Never again. Good for when you are sad? Bitch, just get ice cream. Maybe he should have asked Ember for Kitty’s favorite flavor and save himself the hassle. Oh well.

Too late now.

Danny chose his order but decided to risk a look at the drinks for non-alcoholic options while he waited for Cujo to paw at whatever he wanted.

Kitty, who had been spluttering and getting progressively redder since he made his entrance, was about to smack him upside the head because even if it was true the brat shouldn’t just go saying it like it was any of his goddamn business. They were in the middle of a crowded bar, these people didn’t need any more confirmation for her relationship problems. Couldn’t she keep some dignity?

Before her hand could connect though, a pair of arms surrounded her, bringing her firmly into a backward hug against a warm chest.

A very familiar warm chest.

Startled, she looked up to stare into fiery green eyes.

“Cool it kitten,” Ember purred, clad in a leather jacket that was, most likely, scammed off some unfortunate soul. Still. She looked damn good. Kitty got so tongue-tied she couldn’t manage to even begin to stutter a response, let alone a protest. Danny took advantage of Ember’s intervention to finally place his first order. “Babycakes is right.” Ember continued, effectively cutting off all the air from kitty’s sails once and for all, because really, Ember was her best friend and if there was anyone who knew exactly how many times Johnny and Kitty had fought it was the blue-haired girl.

Kitty let out a defeated sigh and wiggled a little on the embrace to settle into it properly. Might as well get the best out of this-

“Oh, they have frappes!” Phantom trilled in awe. Kitty twitched.

If only Phantom would go away. Ugh. She couldn’t deal with males right now.

“Can’t you leave that thing alone?” Hissed Ember, who had seen the teen open the conversation with her kitty kat just to completely ignore her right after in favor of the menu. The bitch boy needed to focus, they were supposed to be on a mission here.

“Hey! You were the one calling me skinny earlier!” Remarked the teen, only to get a raised eyebrow back from the rockstar.

“As if a single frappe is going to fix that. Give me that!” She sneered at him and snatched the laminated paper from his hands. Phantom tried to snatch it back and failed. So he resorted to pouting and tried to give her the sad puppy dog eyes.

It wasn’t going to work with the matchstick, he knew, but it was good practice.

To pull this shit with Ember you had to be either Kitty, Youngblood, or an honest-to-god puppy. He was not risking ticking off Kitty more than he already had. Youngblood was not here — for obvious reasons—. Cujo was here and didn’t hate him, but sadly the dog wouldn’t be any help right now.

The pup was already accepting belly rubs from the waiters and completely ignoring the world around him.

Again: Priorities.

So really, Danny was just doing this for the sake of being extra.

While Ember and Danny continued with their dramatic standoff, the other girl blinked rapidly and turned her head towards Phantom.

“Oh” Kitty’s bad mood banished almost magically in favor of curiously peering at the teen’s figure. Danny fidgeted on his seat apprehensively.“I hadn’t noticed. You are really lean.” Ember snickered. Cujo — coming back from the belly rub induced coma — barked. Phantom sighed and just accepted defeat.

“I suppose that’s somewhat better-” He grumbled under his breath.

Kitty allowed a tiny smile to escape from her lips but shook herself slightly to get back on track. “What are you two even doing here anyway?” She asked, alternating glances between them.

“Pretty sure you already know,” Ember answered, rubbing her cheek against kitty’s green hair and sending A Look at Phantom. “Because someone is not subtle. at. all.” She ended with a hiss and a flare of her hair. Kitty winced lightly at the confirmation. Phantom rolled his eyes.

“Oh, Cry me a table, matchstick.”

Kitty knew alright. Ember made it her personal business to get involved in whatever petty fight Kitty got into, more so if it was about Johnny. Phantom getting involved in the aftermath — and not the fight itself — was new though.“It was just another stupid fight. And- You know, his obsession-”

“Nope. That’s no excuse, Kath.” Ember cut her off. “If you can work around yours for him, then so can he.”

“You can do better.” The teenage boy agreed while Ember continued squeezing her.

“What do you suggest then?”

Phantom and Ember exchanged a look, mirth flashing in their glowing green eyes and matching smirks growing bold, they turned to look back at Kitty. The green-haired girl gulped down her growing unease. In her experience, these two banding together was never a good thing for anyone.

“We are here to talk to you about the Remember Initiative.”

-.-.-.-

“Such a skinny boy!”

“Hey! I’m just lean-!” Phantom let out a yelp as he ducked under yet another juice box “What’s with you people and your obsession with my weight-! Ugh! If you would just listen-! Wait. Is that apple grape?” He said the last part in a hushed rush, looking in silent awe at one of the little juice boxes she was about to throw his way.

The Lunch Lady preened.

“Boxy got them for me! 100% Juice Fruit guaranteed!” She was radiating smugness about these facts.

“Oh my gosh- Wait! NO. That’s not what I came here for!” Danny managed to shake himself out of his stupor just in time to keep evading the Lady’s attempts to shove a spoon full of food down his throat while he was distracted with the juice.

The last time she had gotten a hold of him he had ended up feeling like one of his mom’s thanksgiving turkeys. Danny gulped. Best to just go for it and hope for the best.

“Did you know that there are 37.2 million people living in food-insecure households?!”

The screamed question froze the lunch lady on her tracks. At the look of horror his words achieved, he decided to keep going.

“1 in 6 American children don’t even know where their next meal is coming from.”

The lunch lady let out a horrified gasp, “Those poor children-!”

And with that, the woman exchanged her attempts at stuffing him for furious-but-mournful whisperings. She looked really constipated about this new information. Danny almost felt sad. Almost.

“There is a way to help, you know?”

The lunch lady’s head snapped back towards the half-ghost, eyes narrowed in a glare. Not the usual I’m-going-to-choke-your-skinny-ass-in-food glare, but an I’m-paying-attention-to-your-skinny-ass glare.

Danny refrained from openly cheering after sensing his upcoming victory. Better not chance it.

“Have you ever heard about old San Nicolas?”

-.-.-.-

“You know,” Danny murmured, slurping noisily from one of his juice boxes as he watched from a safe distance how Johnny and Skulker got wrecked by a pair of cute-murderous-girls, “I wasn’t expecting that to work so well.”

His only response was a pair of little barks from the green puppy that was happily squirming on his lap.

The boy paused on his watch to look down at Cujo. Danny extended one of his hands towards the puppy to carefully try to swat at him. The cub rolled onto his back and trapped Danny’s upcoming fingers between his paws with a playful growl, giving little nibbles to the appendage.

He couldn’t help the giddy giggles that escaped him.

Those little paws were precious.

At the sound of high pitched screams Danny’s head snapped back up to continue watching the ongoing smackdown, surrendering complete possession of his hand to Cujo to do as he pleased.

If the Initiative didn’t work out, both girls would do awesome on the wrestling circuit. Not like Ember lacked in the costume department.

Speaking of costumes, he wondered if the match stick would let him borrow her feathered hat. That thing was awesome.

Better just ask.

Once she was done throwing down with skulker, of course.

He was not about to become cannon fodder.

Priorities.

-.-.-.-

“Ahoy! me fellow comrades!! Your future Cap'n ’s talking!! I’m here on a recruiting mission to embark on the most perilous dangers of the Realms!! May ye, dear comrades, embark under your own risk! Arrrgh!! ”

Thanks to Youngblood’s presence the main residential area of Phantom’s keep was starting to become complete disarray. The adult ghosts were frantic for the possible kidnapping of the tiniest ghosts that was most likely going to happen. The children amongst them were cheering for the possible playtime in their future.

The guards were starting to panic. No one had seen the kid enter, much less bring along that enormous ship of his. The little brat was not supposed to be here!

“Who the freaking hell let Young Blood get in?!” One of the guards hollered.

“It’s fine, I invited him.” Came the cheerful reply from behind the guard. “I’m expanding the lair so the kids have more space to mess around. Just don’t tell them.”

The ghost was startled at the voice but didn’t panic anymore. Instead, they started to relax. They knew that voice, but they needed to confirm-

“P-Phantom?”

Phantom, in full cosplay and sporting the biggest feathered pirate hat on this side of the realms, landed lightly beside the startled ghost with a little chuckle, “Just play along, man.”

“Also, pretty sure there should be a ‘Lord’ in there somewhere.”

“I-I thought you preferred to not be called that, my lord?”

Phantom winced.

“Ah- No. It’s- You know what? Never mind, I keep forgetting you guys don’t really get updates of pop culture on this side of the coin” Phantom frowned. “I really should see about getting some wifi for this place”

He continued to murmur about the updates he would need to do to the tech to make that possible. But the guard was not paying attention to his words anymore.

They were staring speechless at the whole pirate get-up the halfa had managed to assemble. It had been mostly borrowed last minute — not that the guard knew that—. It looked really good. Especially the gold hoop earrings that kept swaying slightly alongside the fluffy white hair with every motion of Phantom’s head.

The guard let out a dreamy sigh.

Their Lord was so cute.

“How is everything going?”

“Wha-?” Getting suddenly pulled out of their daydreaming

“The preparations?” Danny hummed distractedly, diligently searching for his journal and pen among the numerous layers of clothing he had donned for the occasion. Why the fuck did this thing have so many pockets?

“Oh,” Came the ghost’s soft exclamation, suddenly remembering the requests the owner of the keep had left the last time he had come around. Finally emerging victorious from his search, Phantom turned to look at them, raising an eyebrow at the lack of proper explanation “Oh, yes! Everything is going smoothly, and we received the last confirmations this morning, sir.”

Danny smiled at the answer, completely unaware of the effect his playful smile had on the guard and the other ghosts that had started to converge there upon seeing their ‘landlord’. “Awesome.”

That was the last one.

-.-.-.-

Well, almost the last one.

He must admit that the shell shocked expressions on Sam and Tucker were funny the first few minutes.

But after having to repeat himself over and over again it had gotten increasingly less funny.

“Y-you are leaving?” Tucker stuttered.

Danny sighed, “Yes, we are leaving. As in, Jazz and me.”

After gaping at him for another few seconds, Sam finally gathered herself enough to start talking again.

“what about the ghost?”

“I- um- already took care of that,“ Danny mumbled, nervously avoiding eye contact while playing with his milkshake straw. “I also cashed in some debts and asked some favors from my allies, so most will be taken care of until we come back. Either way, I will leave enough Fenton Tech for the both of you and Val. Just in case.”

“Enough tech?” Sam repeated incredulously. “That’s it? Just leave some tech and jump boat just like that?” Danny frowned but refrained from answering her until he thought it through. Sam wouldn’t accept less.

Jump boat? That was not really the case. Jazz and he had really put some thought into this, heck even before the Internship on Loony Capital had come up — specifically, since Jazz’s breakthrough — the siblings had already been toying with ways to get some of the most persistent ghosts to back the fuck off, distract them with better and useful targets or entice them into submission.

At first, it had been a tentative thing, something fragile that they didn’t let themselves hope for. But with Jazz’s change of course of action, it had become something more urgent.

They had to pull it off. There were no other options.

Danny pursed his lips, then took a deep breath to strengthen himself for what was coming. “That’s not it-”

“You are just going to dump us.” She announced like it was final in a harsh whisper.

At least she was keeping her tone quiet.

“No one is getting dumped, Sam,” Danny tried to reassure her in the same tone of finality, sans the harshness. “I told you. We already thought this through. I already put some plans in motion and rigged some backups and- ok. Meaby they are not good enough to be permanent but-”

“You are going to put everyone at risk just because Jazz somehow got the ridiculous idea that ‘talking it out’ is the answer” She scoffed.

“Maybe it is. Maybe not. We won’t know until we try.”

“They are ghosts-”

“So am I.” Danny Interjected. Sam seemed to choke on her next words.

“You are not a ghost Danny.” She had, somehow, gained a tone even more quiet and harsh than her previous one.

“Aren’t I?” He was looking directly into her amethyst eyes. Daring her to fight him on this.

He already knew she wouldn’t.

She had opened her mouth to rebut but closed it immediately after. She took a long breath; most likely to prepare for her next rant than to calm herself. Weighing her options. She didn’t seem willing to have that particular conversation. Not yet. Danny had counted on that. “It’s still a goddamn risk.” She finally countered, a slight sliver of defeat coloring her words.

Maybe he had been a little harsh, but he needed her to understand. “There is risk in every choice I could make. This is not different-”

“What about us?”

Ok, so she was just getting her second wind. Fucking amazing. “Sam, please-”

“We are your friends!”

“And she is my sister!” He finally snapped.

She startled. Gazing at him speechless for a moment before standing up and storming out of her seat without a backward glance, making the people on her way part like the red sea. Leaving in her wake a bunch of curious persons staring after her and throwing shameless glances to their table.

So much for not causing a scene in the middle of the Nasty Burger.

The boys ignored the stares. They were already accustomed to being the focus of attention. Almost never positive, mind you. But that was what cleansings were for.

Tucker, who had been silent for most of the back and forth, finally spoke.

“She just needs time to cool off.”

The Fenton boy would be lying if he said he hadn’t seen this coming. Sam had always been very opinionated and believed herself to be right most of the time. In her defense, she usually was right and knew how to go about expressing it to her friends without resorting to this kind of standoff. This just appeared to have struck a nerve.

Living with her parents and having to fight for every single choice she wanted to make had left her on a constant defense mode that the boys had learned to navigate in their years of friendship. It hadn’t been easy for anyone. But neither Danny nor Tucker were perfect. They had their quirky shit to deal with.

The three of them stuck together and hadn’t bothered to try and expand their friend group that much over the years. Not like they had many options. But that was ok.

Until now.

With Danny leaving them the relative feeling of a support system was trembling at its foundation.

She was probably scared. So was Tucker if the wobbly but sincere smile he was giving him was any indication.

Danny had to admit that when he let himself think about it he got scared too.

They had been in the same boat for a while and parting ways was not something they had accounted for, not for the near future, at least.

In a weird way, they still would be in the same boat even after they were apart. Struggling to learn how to function without the other there. Sam and Tuck would have each other, they were resilient, he was sure they could cope. He would have Jazz like he always had, enough said. And they would keep going like they always did.

Tucker was right. She would come around. But-

Danny slumped on his seat, running a hand through his hair releasing a big sigh.

“Yeah, I know” He murmured looking pensively in the direction their friend had stormed off. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“So, you are not mad?” Danny asked when he finally turned around towards Tucker.

“Nah, man. Just a little squeezy about dealing with this without you. But if your sister is really going to do this she is going to need you there.” Tucker shuddered a little bit. “I have never been there personally but if the social media and forums are not lying Gotham is a goddamn beast dude.”

The halfa hummed in agreement. Not like Amity Park didn’t have its own reputation on their corner of the internet, but still.

Gotham.

Danny took a sip from his milkshake before doing a mental check-list and frowning, “I’m starting to feel like I’m forgetting something” he whispered.

“Oh god, please don’t say that.”

“It’s okay,” Danny had made his best at planning, so his friends wouldn’t have to deal with the ghost in his absence. But with things like this, you never knew for sure. Not until it slapped you right across the face.“Probably just the paranoia.” ‘I hope’ he finished mentally with a weak laugh.

“Dude,” Tucker started before taking hold of his friend’s hand and squeezing it. “If you need help with anything I’m your man. just say the word.”

Tucker may not understand the full extent of the situation, but he was trying, and that meant a lot to the Fenton. He squeezed back and shot his friend a small but grateful smile.

“It’s ok. Thanks, Tuck-” He cut himself off, being interrupted by the sudden ding of one of Tucker’s devices.

The afro American boy ignored the sound though, in favor of putting his full attention on his friend, an action that demonstrated how serious he was with his words, but Danny was already lost in thought, staring intently at the briefly, but brightly, illuminated screen.

“Actually-” The halfa suddenly chirped, turning his full attention back to the boy across the table. Tucker just blinked back, waiting. Danny leaned forward dragging the other boy towards him so he could continue with a whisper. “You could help me with a pair of things.”

The mischievous smile Tucker was witnessing had come out of nowhere and couldn’t presage anything good, but as it was not aimed at him — necessarily — he couldn’t help but join in.

Several cities over, some of Gotham’s more infamous residents couldn’t find an explanation to the sudden shiver that ran up their spines.

-.-.-.-

When Danny made it back home he didn’t waste time tracking his sister down. She was down in the lab, typing away on the main computer and using one of her shoulders to keep her mobile pressed against her ear.

She was in the middle of a conversation and still managing to rewrite part of the ghost portal code like a pro.

His sister sure loved multitasking.

At the sound of the door closing behind the younger Fenton, Jazz looked up from the screen to shoot a brief smile to her brother before carrying on with her conversation.

“Yes. That’s perfect, I will be sending the three files then-”

The boy froze on his step and blinked a pair of times. She was already talking with one of the G. A. proctors? When he left this morning he had just dumped his proposals on Jazz for a second revision. He wasn’t expecting to have them sent already.

Hmm. Well, to be fair, he had rambled at Jazz about his projects relentlessly whenever he had a chance and didn’t feel like death warmed over.

Which weren’t many times. But once he got into a ramble it was an Olympic endeavor to shut him up. He was a Fenton. It was in their blood. Jazz did it too, even if she tried to chalk it up to healthy-and-completely-natural excitement.

So. Jazz already knew the contents pretty well, it was just a question of pulling off the presentation, which was the thing that Jazz was supposed to check over.

His sister had given him some tips, and even if his parents were not as invested in the writing process as in the practical, the fruit loop had more than enough experience doing it and didn’t give two flying fucks over whether or not Danny wanted his knowledge.

Danny knew monologing was an essential part of a villainous experience but he had spent way too much time listening to Vlad bitch about most of his employees to last him a lifetime.

Even little Madeline couldn’t stop the loneliness that had brought the madness. Danny had put so many hopes in the fluffy thing.

Letting out a resigned sigh the boy decided to just let it go and be grateful that his sister - who had more than five Universities fighting over her- deemed it acceptable already.

He liked writing his ideas down, but using formal language and fudging APA was fucking exhausting.

Good fucking riddance. He thought, shaking his head slightly and sending a light sneer in the computer’s direction. As if the files on it could feel his disdain from his position on the other side of the room.

Danny spotted some of her sister’s nail polish bottles by her side on the table and made a beeline for them and took most of the little bottles before retreating to a chair on the other side of the desk.

He had heard some of the cheerleaders saying that the nail polish helped to keep the nails from getting all fucked up quite as easily, and it had caught his attention.

Danny had looked down at his hands and winced. Normally he didn’t pay much attention to his nails, but ever since getting on a constant string of fights he was more aware of how easily the goddamn things could break on you if you didn’t trim them properly, and it hurt like a bitch every time. It always seemed to be the tiniest things that told you to ‘fuck off’ to your face like nothing else.

Danny guessed that it was worth the try. And if anything, putting some color on them would help hide some of the blood — and ectoplasm — that got under his fingernails.

So he tried it out.

By this point, he was not sure if it really helped or he was just fooling himself into thinking it did work. The only sure thing was that he didn’t feel comfortable going without it anymore.

Danny liked to borrow the clear nail protector from Jazz, but most of the polish he had in his possession had been previously Sam’s. All pastels and cheery colors that her mom kept insisting on buying her because they kept being used.

“Thank you, Miss Gordon!”

If she had bothered to pay more attention to her daughter’s friends for more than sneering at them she may have noticed Danny’s pastel pink nails. But she hadn’t. And that had just ensured Danny a constant supply of pastels to cover his bloodied nails with-

“So, how did it go?”

“Uh.” The boy startled at the sudden proximity of the voice. He looked up from his nails and to his sister, who was now seated beside him.

“The execution.” Jazz prodded, smiling at him in anticipation. It looked downright creepy, considering the words she used.

“Seriously Jazz?” He snorted. “You make it sound like I went there to dispatch murder at random.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” His sister scoffed, watching how her brother resumed painting his nails. “They are already dead. You couldn’t kill them any more than they already are.”

“I could certainly try.”

“Danny-”

“Let’s just say the all-nighter paid off, and leave it at that.”

“So you had fun.” She teased. Stealing back one of the bottles of polish to finish her own nails with a second coat.

“For the most part, but-” He stopped, struggling to find words to describe the sheer mayhem that went down in the zone-

Jazz just hummed and gave him a little nod, still focusing on her nails. Danny relaxed. He could tell her later. When he had cooled off some more from the attack-protect mode he got into whenever he visited the zone. Remembering it all right now would just set him off again.

“So, what do you want for dinner?” The redhead asked suddenly.

Danny blinked a pair of times, perplexed, and stole a look at the clock.“It’s a little late to be asking that, don’t you think?”

“I suppose, but I decided to wait for you and then got sidetracked with the files.” She really needed to work on her awareness of time. “Didn’t even notice the hour.”

“I don’t even remember what we have in the cupboards.”

“Maybe we could-” She didn’t manage to suggest something before she got interrupted by their mother’s voice.

“Dinner is ready!”

“They made dinner?” Danny whispered to Jazz in dread.

“So it seems,” she responded, sharing his dread.

“Why did they make dinner? They never make dinner!”

“I mean, they do for special occasions, like-” She shuddered. “Like thanksgiving.”

This was ridiculous. Jazz and he were normally the ones cooking. Their parents spent most of their time in the lab or trying to hunt down ghosts. Today was not a holiday. They hadn’t invented anything new worth the ‘celebration’. There wasn’t a reason for them to-

“Oh! and Vlad is here~!”

Danny slammed his face against the desk with a groan.

Jazz winced at the sound.

“Time to face the music, little bro” She closed the polish bottles and patted him carefully on the back a few times before standing up and going to the kitchen.

“I still feel like I’m forgetting something…” Danny grumbled under his breath before following his sister upstairs.

-.-.-.-

It was the last Friday of the month and this could perfectly be one of Jazz’s many attempts to make them a functional family unit.

Except that the Fenton girl had let said efforts slip in favor of pursuing her little brother’s scholarship.

Oh, And the fruitloop was here.

Vlad had weaseled into the family’s — unplanned — plans because of course, he did.

“Everything looks absolutely lovely Madeline.”

Jazz would have believed his words. If she hadn’t seen the man poke at the food on the table with the wariness of a man on the death warrant whenever mom was not looking.

The siblings had spent way too many family dinners doing the same thing whenever they couldn’t quite manage to keep the older Fentons off the kitchen. And even when they did, they didn’t lower their guard. The chance of contamination was always a latent threat to the house.

Jazz turned her head slightly to look at her brother. The boy was, very pointedly, not poking at his food and just watched it with all the scorn he could gather. He refused to do the same things as Vlad, which didn’t mean he was crazy enough to try and eat the food on his plate.

The dinner proceeded with making some catching up, abundant science talk, teasing, scathing remarks, sighing, and finally dissolved in a three-way match between the Fenton children and one Vlad Masters to see who could dispose of the food in the most sneaky way.

She had always wondered how the man survived with her parents for as long as he did back in their college years. She knew now.

“Oh! And Jazzrinces finally decided on a college! The G.S.A. is backing up her research on ghosts! Isn’t that incredible?!”

Vlad smiled blandly at Jack. Skillfully suppressing the sneer the man’s cheeriness was trying to invoke to his face. He had lots of practice.

“And Danny decided to tag along to help his sister! Isn’t he such a sweet boy?” Maddie added with a cheer a little more forced than her husband’s. But still, cheer.

Now, that. That got Vlad’s attention. And he decided to take advantage of the children’s distraction to get more information and decide a proper plan of action.

Dany was making it a point to completely ignore the three adult’s conversation. Jazz stuck to taking small sips from her glass of water. That was, until-

“Surely you’re not planning on sending them without some proper equipment, are you?” Vlad tutted. “Don’t get me started on weapons. I mean you never know for certain what will be indispensable, right?”

“That’s a wonderful idea!”

The heads of both children snapped up.

“I mean, most of my research isn’t-” Jazz tried hastily to stop this on its tracks.

Sadly, it was not to be.

“Nonsense Jazz,” Her mom interrupted her, “It’s better to be prepared!”

Vlad hummed in agreement, “They won’t, after all, have anyone else to protect them from those trashy ghosts.”

Just like that, the Fenton parents started to list out loud all the things the kids would surely need for the research.

Vlad smirked.

Danny narrowed his eyes at the pompous fucker.

Jazz resigned herself to keep sighing until the end of times.

-.-.-.-

“How are we supposed to take this with us..?” Danny whispered looking horrified at all the equipment his parents had just thrown their way

“Can’t you just put it in the thermos?”

“The ectoplasmic energies of each Item would clash horribly” Danny winced

“You tried to…?” Jazz side-eyed him

“Yes.” He said curtly, “Wouldn’t really recommend” he continued with the air of someone haunted by the consequences of their life choices. death choices. Both were accurate, she supposed.

Jazz swallowed.

Cue in more silent horrified staring at the equipment.

“Maybe if we start with some boxes-”

“BEWARE!!! THE BOX GHOST!!!”

“Oh my god-!”

“I Fucking knew it!!”

-.-.-.-

A little while after, once the ghost box was gone, and the siblings had retreated to Jazz’s room for safety and the opportunity of proper evening gossip. The fruitloop came barging into the room.

“Ok. I raided the kitchen. There is nothing edible in this house. How do you even survive.” He stated, not asked, in a deeply judgemental tone.

“Magic. Pokemon Magic.” Danny deadpanned from his place on the bed. Jazz, who was cuddled beside him, was still chewing on the dry crackers that managed to survive the onslaught of their parents, for the simple reason that the things had been in her room.

Vlad sighed and started to massage his temples.

“Fine. Truce. Grab your things, we are going out.”

Jazz slightly choked on her crackers. Danny just choked on air. “What? Where-?”

“To get some proper food, of course.” The man sneered like it was completely obvious and tagging a smirk on for good riddance.

“Why would-”

“You have directions. I have the money. Chop chop. Before your parents catch us.” With that, the millionaire turned around and left, leaving the door wide open fully expecting them to follow along.

The siblings stared at each other for a moment before scrambling after Vlad.

Food was more important than playing the archnemesis-game.

For the hundred time that day:

Priorities.

ENDNOTES:

I couldn’t help the fucking references. Danny is a dork and I am ashamed.

-.-.-.-

I headcanon Danny as someone who really likes pet names, be it because he really likes the person or because it pisses them off. Two stones a deader bird.

-.-.-.-

What do you mean The Avengers aren’t a boyband?

-.-.-.-

The siblings are firm believers of the borrowing culture. There is no shame in asking to borrow some things.

Are those Ember’s hat & earrings? Yes. Yes, they are.

Why does Danny have his ears pierced, you ask? BECAUse there is no absolute heteronormative bullshit in this household AND I MUST ADD THAT-!

-Danny & Jazz watched ‘The parent trap’ when they were small little beans and were really interested in whether or not piercing your sibling’s ears was the ultimate bonding moment.

Jazz insisted on researching a lot more about proper sterilizing, mind you- but like the tiny feral unsupervised cupcakes they were, they decided to try it.

Jazz already had her ears pierced, SO, yeah.

It hurt like a bitch for Danny, and Jazz panicked for a week afterward about infections, but it was indeed a good bonding moment.

-.-.-.-

If I ship Jason with some fucking therapy does that mean I can ship him with Jazz?

Ship’s name is JJ for you.

… I just gave myself YOI flashbacks.

Fuck.

-.-.-.-

You might want to say: ‘but author-san, those are not all the ghosts Danny deals with?’, and you are damn right they aren’t, but you must trust in Danny thousand-back-ups Fenton, my children.

(Also, where would be the fun if everyone was accounted for since now? You will see what went down later on. :p)

-.-.-.-

Don’t know if you noticed, but Jazz is not the only one that thinks Danny is a cutie patootie :v

Danny has long ago resigned himself to the being called “Lord” thing. Is better than the ‘K’ word.

-.-.-.-

The thing about the nails is something I do. I started because they looked pretty, I kept painting them because I felt they broke up more easily if I didn’t put like three coats of polish on them.

At least I don’t bite them as much anymore. :p

-.-.-.-

If there is someone on this green earth that knows about the struggles of living with Jack and Maddie Fenton, that someone is Vlad Masters.

Change my mind.

You can’t.

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theyearoftheking · 4 years ago

Text

Book Sixty-One: Under the Dome

“We’re calling it the Dome... but it’s not a Dome. At least, we don’t think it is. We think it’s a capsule whose edges conform exactly to the borders of the town. And I do mean exactly.”

I’ll be the first to admit... I threw some shade at Under the Dome. To be fair, I threw a metric shit-ton of shade at Under the Dome. And I will also admit, this book did not deserve my snotty comments, my shade, or my dread.

Under the Dome is a fantastic book. I mean that in the most sincere, un-shady way possible. The mounting sense of dread, the varied cast of characters and their development, the struggle of good versus evil... I loved all of it. I would not classify this book as horror, it’s a complete psychological read, despite the horror that occurs under the dome. So, please recommend this to your, “I don’t like Stephen King, he’s gross!” friends. But if you are a Constant Reader, there are plenty of Easter eggs to keep you amused:

Shawshank Prison

Castle Rock

TR-90

“Lit out for the Territories”

“Exactly like in that movie The Mist”

Derry

“Gunslinger style”

The plot of the story is pretty basic: a large, impenetrable dome goes up and around the town of Chester’s Mill. Airplanes that fly into the dome explode, cars violently crash... there’s no way in or out of Chester’s Mill.

The town pretty quickly breaks off into two factions: the power hungry who want to control the resources and the people (headed up by the uber-douche and Second Selectman Big Jim Rennie); and the people who want solutions, and to help one another (headed up by short-order cook and former Special Forces Operator Dale “Barbie” Barbara, and Julia Shumway, owner of the local newspaper).

Big Jim Rennie takes a novel approach (sarcasm font) and feeds on the fear of the citizens. He starts limiting access to propane tanks, groceries (he incites a riot outside the grocery store), and healthcare. Meanwhile, he’s kicked back in his bunker, enjoying temperate climates, and eating all the food his fat ass and time-bomb heart can handle. It would be funny if we hadn’t just lived through four years of it...

If 2020 (well, the entire Trump presidency, TBH) has taught us anything, it’s that people make conservative choices when they are afraid. As a result of the fear, Big Jim ends up putting together a police force of high schoolers, complete with armbands and everything. The only thing missing were Proud Boy’s t-shirts.

Big Jim uses his popularity and the fear to convince the town Barbie is guilty of several murders (murders Jim and his psychotic son actually committed); and then he burns down the newspaper building; because he didn’t want Julia to publish anything untoward about him, or his police force’s efforts.

Meanwhile, no one wants to talk about the fact all the propane tanks are stored at a Christian music radio station, which is secretly hiding a meth lab. Of course Big Jim knows all about that... how do you think he’s made his money? It sure wasn’t at his used-car lot.

Oh, we also get a Corgi’s narrative voice, which was adorable. You can tell Steve really stretched his creative muscles with this one. I mean, he had to... the book is over a thousand pages long.

Chaos ensues, people die, the temperatures under the dome rise (literally), and the air quality gets worse and worse. Barbie, Julia and their rag-tag crew of community members (Romeo Burpee is my personal favorite) and neighborhood kids figure out what is causing the Dome, and they’re able to save the day. Kind of. I mean, a lot of people are dead, but at least the Dome is gone. Oh, and Big Jim dies of a heart attack. Which is honestly too good of a death for him. I could have come up with a million more creative ways for him to die. But we don’t always see the justice we want. Someone put that on a coffee mug, please.

There were two fun surprises. The first, was a Jack Reacher cross-over I wasn’t expecting. Jack gave a citation to his girl Jackie Wettington (Chester’s Mill police officer). That was a fun tip of the cap to Lee Child. I will only reference Jack Reacher books; because Tom Cruise is a gross human being that I refuse to acknowledge. Despite the massive crush I had on him in the second grade. It was the era of Cocktail. Sue me.

Speaking of crushes, one of my other boos is mentioned as well! My man Lester Holt! I listen to Dateline podcasts almost every single day. No joke. He has those dulcet, angelic tones that make my drive time so much better.

I just... Sigh. I need to stop fucking reading these books. The similarities between some of these stories and our current world is just too much. I couldn’t stop picturing Trump during every Big Jim scene. He claimed his actions were for the good of the community, but it was all about power and money. “...and praying, unaware that his prayer was basically a series of demands and rationalizations: make it stop, none of it was my fault, get me out of here, I did the best I could, put everything back the way it was, I was let down by incompetents, heal my heart...”

At least our Kamala/Commala prophecy came true, right? That has to be a sign that better days are ahead.

Total Wisconsin Mentions: 40

Total Dark Tower References: 56

Book Grade: A+

Rebecca’s Definitive Ranking of Stephen King Books

The Talisman: A+

Wizard and Glass: A+

Under the Dome: A+

Needful Things: A+

On Writing: A+

The Green Mile: A+

Hearts in Atlantis: 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-

Nightmares in the Sky: B+

The Dark Half: 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-

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 Full Dark, No Stars... which, wow. I’m still turning the stories over in my head a week later. My apologies- I’m a bit behind blogging, but you’ll be reading my musings soon.

Until next time, Long Days & Pleasant Nights, Rebecca

#under the dome #stephen king #constant readers #jack reacher #lee child #the dark tower #tom cruise #cocktail #the year of the king #lester holt #dateline

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blu-eh · 5 years ago

Text

when kingdom comes calling

Words: 7,545 | Chapters: 1/1 | AO3 | Fanfiction

Summary: the Ghost Zone population assumes that Phantom took the crown with dignity. What they don’t know is fifteen year old Danny Fenton just wants to graduate high school, is constantly ready to throw hands with an army of eyeballs, and absolutely will not be crowned the Ghost King without a fight.

-----------------------------------

Danny is fifteen when the first Observant appears to completely ruin his life.

He wakes up with the feeling on the sun on his face and the birds chirping from outside his window. It’s peaceful, really, with his blankets being warm and his pillow soft. He feels more than a little well rested, which is a first considering his usual night-time activities, and thinks that maybe (just maybe) he can make it to school before the first period bell rings.

Belatedly, his ghost sense goes off.

Danny’s expecting it, really. It doesn’t stop the swirling aggravation as his good luck comes to an end. The day started out abnormal simply due to the fact that he had not once woken up at some ungodly hour in the morning to beat up a wandering ghost and send it back to the ghost zone. As per Fenton luck, his morning is ruined before it even has the chance to begin.

He groans, rubs sleep from his eyes, and comes face to face with the giant floating eyeball.

“Holy shit—” Danny turns intangible out of sheer surprise, falls through his bed, and is left grasping the sheets in order to pull himself as far as he possibly can away from the wayward Observant that is conveniently floating in his room. The Observant looks at him without blinking and its long cape flutters around its pencil-thin figure.

For a moment, they simply stare at each other. Danny, on the floor in his space pajamas, and the Observant hovering a few feet from the ground with its weird, unblinking, green eye.

“What are you doing in my room?” Danny says, slowly, and picks himself off the ground. He settles into a familiar fight stance and readies himself for a confrontation; space pajamas, bed head and all.

His previous encounters with the Observants and their weird time-council have not always been pleasant.

The Observant blinks at him, once, and says, “I have come to collect you for your coronation.”

“My what?”

“Your coronation, Daniel,” the Observant says with a sigh (which is really weird considering they don’t have mouths or, well, anything other than their eyes and hands). “It is time for you to take the throne and rule the Infinite Realms.”

Danny stares at him, his mouth opening and closing but no words coming out.

The Observant sighs again, “Please, come. There is much to do before you are crowned.”

Danny rubs his eyes just to make sure he’s not in some weird hallucination. He doesn’t think he’s fought any ghosts that could trap him in some freak alternate dimension or some sort of weird dream, but one can never be too careful. It would explain the situation more than whatever the Observant is trying to tell him, at least.

The Observants hate him. As if his own self-loathing isn’t enough to cover that base already. They’ve made it perfectly clear that should he ever mess up, should he ever become anything like Dan again, he would be destroyed and the council would not spare him pity for being a fifteen year old halfa.

Danny doesn’t remember doing anything bad or anything that could potentially cause his evil-future-self to come about and reign destruction and carnage on the earth, but then again Danny doesn’t have temporal clairvoyance like Clockwork and the rest of the Observants. Maybe he slept through one too many classes? Maybe he shoved the wrong ghost in his thermos?

Not like it matters, anyways. It doesn’t change the fact that Danny promised he wouldn’t turn into that and he isn’t just going to take whatever scheme the Observants dished out for him without a fight.

Danny holds up his hands, “Alright, okay. Listen, you had me going there for a little bit. I gotta admit that I was pretty surprised and kudos for the creativity but if you’re going to come up with a plan to kill me, at least make it believable.”

The Observant narrows its beady eye, “The council does not like it any more than you, child, but even we cannot directly disobey the Ancient Code of Rights.”

“The what?”

“Do you really not know?”

Danny’s irritation bubbles to the surface and he throws up his hands, “Its not exactly like any of you hand out Being a Ghost for Dummies book! Ghosts don’t tell me anything unless they’re trying to post-mortem murder me!”

The Observant blinks at him again, “You bested the previous king and his army in single combat thus earing the rights to the throne, the Ring of Rage, the Crown of Fire and the position of King of all Ghosts. I am to lead you into the Infinite Realms where we shall hold your coronation and crown you king. From there, you shall lead the Realms as did Pariah Dark in his prime.”

“King of all Ghosts—” Danny spluttered out before taking a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Alright, ignoring literally all of that for a second—why didn’t I get this position, oh, wow, I dunno, right after I defeated Pariah? It’s been a year now.”

“You did not even know about your own core,” the ghost says, sounding miffed. Danny thinks if anyone should be sounding aggravated right now, its him. “A ghost—rather, a halfa in your case—that does not know his own power cannot take the throne. The council made a decision to wait until your powers were under your control and you have learned more about the Infinite Realms and the power you possess before taking your rightful place.”

Irritation bubbles to the surface as Danny tries to ignore the painful fact that he knows very little about ghost culture and ghost politics. He doesn’t dare tell the observant this, though, because he doesn’t want the power and he certainly doesn’t want to be king of some stupid dimension. His parents shoot at him enough thinking he's a normal ghost. There’s no telling what they would do if they ever were to find out he’s the ghost king.

Ectoplasm sparks to life in his hands as he tries to keep his emotions in check. He’s angry and confused and worried because why couldn’t things just stay simple?

Notwithstanding, it still doesn’t change the fact the Observants have tried to do something worse than kill him on several different occasions.

“You tried to have me obliterated.”

“Yes,” the Observant says simply. “That still would have been the preferable outcome to this entire situation.”

Danny blasts the floating eyeball out of his room and doesn’t once feel bad about it.

-----------------------------------

There’s an eyeball in his locker.

Danny glances around at the nearly empty halls and hisses out, “What are you doing here? Go away before I make you!”

The Observant hardly looks rattled at the threat. If anything, the thing seems even more determined to get Danny to go through with this absolute bullshit plan to make him, someone who is half human, king of the ghosts. “Follow me to the Infinite Realms for your coronation. You are under obligation to meet the council at Pariah’s Keep where you shall receive the Crown of Fire and the Ring of Rage.”

“No,” Danny snaps. “I have an English test next period with Mr. Lancer.”

“This is no time for your silly human games—"

Danny slams the locker in its eye. He turns to look at his friends, feeling deader inside currently than when he’s in ghost form.

“Huh,” Sam says and blinks in surprise. “When you told us this morning, I thought you were kidding.”

The locker rattles behind him and Danny casually leads against it when people start looking his way. The Observant could easily use intangibility to escape, but, for some reason, doesn’t. Danny’s not going to question it. “I wish I was.”

“Kinda cool that we’re friends with royalty,” Tucker says.

“You’re not,” Danny says. “Because I’m not taking some stupid crown and I’m not ruling the Ghost Zone where I am constantly in danger because ghosts hate me. I’m perfectly fine out here, with my family, and away from all of them.”

“Frostbite doesn’t hate you,” Sam says. Danny shoots her a look but she continues on like she hadn’t seen him. “Neither does Dora or Pandora, I think. And Cujo and Wulf.”

“You gotta admit, dude,” Tucker says and slings an arm around him before meandering away from the rattling locker. “The whole Ghost King thing is pretty cool.”

Danny’s so tired.

“Tucker, honestly, I just want to get to college and maybe not fail at life,” Danny says. He has a horrible feeling in his gut that this is only the start of what might be the end of his entire future. “And I have a very bad feeling that my future is not going to be as normal as I want it to be.”

-----------------------------------

Jazz figures out the entire situation by the end of the first night when she sees a floating eyeball hovering in front of Danny’s bedroom door. She ends up yanking him in her room and forcing him to tell her everything. He tells her, albeit reluctantly, but he does have to admit it feels pretty good to get it off his chest.

It still isn’t a fun conversation for any of them considering Danny’s future hanging by nothing more than a flimsy string.

Life still goes on. Mr. Lancer assigns him an absurd amount of homework. The school gets shut down at least twice a day because of Observant sightings. Unfortunately for Danny, school doesn’t stop just because a bunch of ghostly eyeballs have taken to haunting the school corridors.

Besides, by the third day and seventh missed class, Danny makes it exceptionally clear that the Observants should not—under any circumstance—enter his school and disrupt his classes. If they do, then Danny hasn’t been scared to use force in the past and definitely isn’t scared to punch a giant eyeball in the face should he see them wandering the halls or loitering in the windows.

The Observants learn very quickly. So, instead of bothering him in the halls, they wait outside in the parking lot until he’s let out of class at the end of the day. From there, they float around him (along with an unwilling Sam and Tucker) and try to convince Danny to enter the Ghost Zone and become a king of a realm he doesn’t even totally belong to.

“—Your coronation ceremony awaits you in the Infinite Realms. The council has requested your presence.”

Danny breaths through his nose, shares a sideways look with his friends, and tries not to do anything drastic. The Observant is just lucky that the streets are currently empty because, otherwise, Danny would not be putting up with the constant pestering. “Do you have anything new to say?”

“Should you not come then the council will be forced to do things outside of prior tradition.”

At least it said something new, Danny thinks even though he doesn’t necessarily like the tone the Observant is using. Out loud, he says, “Does that mean you’ll leave me alone and find a new king?”

“No,” the Observant says.

“Damn,” Danny says. “Anything else profound?”

“The Infinite Realms is in need of a ruler—"

“I said anything profound?”

The Observant actually looks a little offended by that. Tucker hides his laugh behind a cough while Sam doesn’t try to hide hers at all. He gives them a wry grin when he thinks the Observant isn’t looking and all three of them burst into laughter.

The Observant narrows its eyes at the group and says, stiffly, “Very well. If this is your choice.”

It disappears in a puff of smoke. Danny glances at the spot where the Observant once floated and shrugs because, well, it’s not like he can do anything about it now. It doesn’t stop the sudden feeling of apprehension that washes over him.

“Do you think they’re actually going to leave Danny alone?” Tucker asks.

“No,” Danny says. “I think it’s just going to get worse from here.”

-----------------------------------

“I’m not coming to the stupid coronation,” Danny snaps the moment he sees the eyeball in his bedroom. It’s a new one, of course, because the council apparently never sends the same Observant twice.

This one is definitely different, though. It's holding something close it its chest in its green, clawed hand. Every couple seconds, Danny catches sight of a flickering green light despite not being able to make out the object’s shape.

“Since you have made your refusal to enter the Infinite Realms for your coronation, then we are forced to bring the coronation to you,” the Observant answers. It opens its hands and presents the object; small, black and flickering in a eerie green flame with a smooth bottom and tiny points at its top. He can’t help the small sense of familiarity as he takes the object in.

Danny feels his heart stop.

“Wait, what—this that the CROWN?”

“Bow your head, child,” the Observant says. “And we shall get this over with.”

Danny backs up so fast he hits the opposite wall before the Observant can move a single step closer. He drops into a fight stance. “Yeah, uh, no. I’m good, thanks. Please go back to the Ghost Zone and literally never come back here again.”

“You do not yet hold power over the council.”

Danny shifts to into his ghost form and charges up an ectoblast. The combination of its flashing light and the fire from the crown cast an eerie green glow on the walls of his room. “Wanna bet?”

The Observant takes a step forward. “This is cumbersome—"

“Oh, wow, I’m sorry,” Danny snaps and spots his thermos right behind the giant, floating eyeball. He mentally makes a quick plan in his head. “Next time you try and make my life a living hell I’ll make it easier for you!”

The Observant makes a move as if it were going to place the crown on Danny's head but Danny's faster. He dodges, rolls out of the way, and blasts the stupid ghost in the side. It doesn’t make a sound, but it does narrow its eye further.

“If you put that thing on my head so help me—HEY, I said don’t. I don’t want your stupid crown or your stupid throne!” Danny tries to keep his frustration under control as the observant moves to place the damn thing on his head again. He lunges to the other side of his room, fingers curling around the familiar metal of his thermos. “Find someone else and leave me alone.”

The Observant slinks back, crown still in hand. It glances at the object before meeting Danny’s eyes. “I see this will not be easy.”

Danny doesn’t give it a chance to move. Before the Observant can even react, he opens the thermos and sucks the thing up (crown and all). The green glow of the room vanishes and Danny is left standing, alone, in the lightly damaged remains of his once-clean bedroom.

-----------------------------------

He finds a new Observant in his fridge with a certain flaming crown in its hand. He slams the fridge door shut without a single word.

Unfortunately, Observants are ghosts which means they have ghost powers and this one is much smarter than the locker-Observant. It phases through the fridge and attempts to place the crown on his head without a single word.

At least they were past formalities now.

“I’d say give it to Plasmius but we all know how that would end,” Danny says and dodges the hands that attempts to pin him down. He’s stuck in human form for the time being seeing as his parents are just a room over and he doubts they would be happy to find Phantom floating in their kitchen with Fenton missing. “Don’t—hey! If you don’t stop, I’m going to blast you, I swear to the ancients—"

“We are the ancients, Daniel—"

“Oh my god, shut up. Please, stop talking.”

“This is your destiny—”

“Has it ever occurred to you or your council that forcing a fifteen year old to become a king is really fucked? Like, seriously, I haven’t even graduated high school yet. I’m barley passing history, I don’t know anything about politics, I can’t even vote in human elections and you want me to become a king?”

Footsteps come from the room next to him. Danny meets the Observant’s eyes as he realizes the fact that there is a ghost in a ghost hunter’s house. There is absolutely nothing good that will come from this.

“Danny?” His mom’s voice calls out. Danny slams a pillow over the Observant and sits on it just as his mom rounds the corner. She looks around the room, once, and doesn’t seem to notice how Danny’s awkwardly sprawled out on the couch in a desperate attempt to keep her from seeing the Observant. “I thought I heard yelling. Is everything all right?”

Underneath him, the Observant squirms in clear discomfort. Danny hopes he elbows it in the eye.

Danny laughs nervously and plasters on a smile that’s just a bit too wide. “Nope, no yelling. I didn’t hear yelling. Everything is fine, mom. Nothing to see here.”

He feels a hand creeping up his back and he whips around to grab the clawed green appendage before it can force the crown on his head. Unfortunately, in his effort to resist being crowned, he forgets all about his ghost-hunting mom who has definitely saw the ghost beneath the pillow.

Danny likes to think that his life is just one string of disasters after another with absolutely no end in sight.

“Is that a ghost?!” Mom says and, oh boy, her gun is already out and pointed at the Observant.

Danny shares a slightly panicked look with the Observant, still holding it’s hand with the crown away from his own head. It might be the stupid eyeball’s fault in the first place, but Danny doesn’t think anyone really deserves to get handed over to his mom. Or get ripped apart molecule by molecule. That would almost be as bad as Skulker skinning him and hanging his pelt on the wall.

Danny scrambles off the couch, “Okay, this is all just a big misunderstanding—"

Mom’s not listening to him, though. Her gun whirls with power and she takes a step forward. “Step away from my son, you ectoplasmic fiend!”

The Observant either wants to die again or is stupidly brave because it stands up, billowing cape and all. “He is to bear the crown and the ring as seen by the council and take his place as the rightful ruler of the Infinite Realms in order to—”

Mom blasts the Observant before it can say another word. Danny has never been so grateful for his mom’s trigger happy finger in his life.

His mom turns to look him over and Danny shrinks back and says, weakly, “I think they have me confused with a ghost.”

The Observant floats back into a standing position, the crown flickering in his hand. Unfortunately, one blast is never enough to force an Observant to leave. Danny should know. He’s blasted them enough times to figure it out.

Danny hates floating eyeballs with his entire being.

“Daniel James Fenton,” the Observant says and dodges the next shot by his mom. It tries to approach him, yet again, with the crown outstretched. “You must take the crown and the ring in order to rule the Infinite Realms as it is your right—"

“Shut up,” Danny throws a couch pillow at it. The pillow bounces harmlessly off the ghost but his mom shoots it a second later so he feels rightfully validated.

“Don’t touch my son!” his mom snaps.

She blasts the ghost enough to send it backward, into the kitchen. The crown goes skidding out of its hands and rolls right to Danny’s feet. Danny meets the Observant’s eye. Then, out of pure spite, he kicks the thing as far away from him as possible. The Observant narrows its eye.

Mom has a ectogun to the Observant’s face before it can protest. Danny tries to hide his smile, but doesn’t do a fantastic job if the look the Observant is giving him is anything to go by.

“Listen here, you odd manifestation of ectoplasmic energy and post-human consciousness,” Mom says and leans a bit closer. “You are going to tell me exactly why you are here and exactly what you were trying to do to my son.”

The Observant doesn't even look at her.

“Another time, then,” the Observant says but it’s glaringly obvious that it is not talking to Danny’s mom. It stares at him with its weird, beady eye.

Mom notices and shakes the thing with her fists. She looks a second away from decking it and, if it had been any other situation, Danny might have let her. He probably would’ve even laughed. This situation, however, is not one Danny finds much humor in.

The Observant gives him one more look before both it and the crown disappear in a puff of green smoke. His mom’s face twists into one of furious frustration but she doesn’t seem wholly surprised. The house plunges into a irreversible quiet and, sitting on the floor of the living room, Danny feels a familiar twinge of apprehension in his gut.

It’s incredibly apparent that the Observants have no qualms about secret identities.

Not a second later, his dad bursts into the room with a gun in hand. “GHOST?”

“You just missed it, honey,” Mom says, fuming, before dropping to her knees and pulling Danny into a hug. “Oh, Danny, I’m so sorry. That must have been so terrifying for you. I know how much those nasty ghosts scare you. I promise that we'll work on the ghost shield and nothing like that will ever happen again.”

Luckily, his mom seems more concerned about the fact that a ghost got into their house and tried to attack their son than to pay close attention to the words the ghost has spoken. It doesn’t stop the rush of guilt that holds his very core.

-----------------------------------

“Take the crown, Daniel.”

“Can’t,” Danny says, tightly. “I have an algebra test tomorrow that I haven’t studied for because someone keeps trying to put a crown on my head when I’m sleeping so, as you can see, I’m trying not to be stressed about that. Can we please schedule this for another time?”

The Observant gives him a look. For a floating eyeball, the thing is shockingly expressive.

Danny shifts into a fighting stance. “Right, of course. I forgot nothing is easy with any of you.”

-----------------------------------

Jazz catches him shuffling down the stairs to the basement at four o’clock in the morning.

“Danny,” she says slowly, “How many of those eyeball ghosts are in that thermos?”

“Twenty seven,” Danny answers and tries not to fall down the stairs in pure exhaustion.

It’s more of a game at this point—try and get as close to the ghost kid as possible to put on the crown and the ring before he blasts them. Danny thinks the game sucks and he wants out.

“You don’t look very good.”

Danny narrows his eyes. “Thanks, Jazz. I hadn’t realized.”

Danny can tell from her face that she’s trying to psychoanalyze him but he likes to think that he’s actually doing pretty well considering the sheer number of Observants that try to force a crown or ring on him. It’s been almost a week and, well, he’s still not the Ghost King so that has to count for something. Danny is holding off hope that the council will get the message and fuck off.

“Don’t be sarcastic, Danny, I’m just worried,” Jazz says and follows him down the stairs. “How are you holding up?”

“My life is a nightmare,” Danny answers. “And my nightmares manifest in the form of lots of floating green eyeballs.”

He takes the last couple steps into the basement and places the thermos in the release shoot. There’s no point in keeping them in there—Danny knows because he’s already tried. No matter what he does or where he keeps them, both the Observants that he’s captured and the crown vanish from the thermos. Then, they show up the very next day and the cycle begins all over again.

“That’s very specific,” Jazz tells him. Then, “If they keep popping up like they have, it’s going to be very hard to keep your secret from mom and dad for much longer.”

“Jazz,” Danny says and tries to keep the worry out of his voice (even if he knows it's a losing battle). “If this keeps going then I’m not going to have a secret to hide from anyone anymore.”

-----------------------------------

There’s yelling on the streets and an ectoblast whizzes past his ears.

Danny’s in ghost form, fresh out of a battle from a rogue ghost, flying high above the streets with his parents following behind him in their assault vehicle. They’re yelling at him, like normal, and trying to blast him out of the air. Had it been any other day, Danny could’ve lost them in mere minutes but he’s exhausted from the fifteen observants he’s been avoiding and the two ghosts that he’s fought just this afternoon.

Another blast comes dangerously close to hitting him.

His ghostly tail flicks in irritation and he turns, just for a moment, to yell out, “Stop blasting me!”

He almost gets an ectoblast to the face in reply.

“Hold it, ghost kid! Listen to me when I’m talking to you!”

Danny races through the streets, the RV curving dangerously on the road behind him. A shot fizzes by his ear and he drives to the right, towards the school. He makes it a good thousand feet when an Observant pops, literally, right in front of him with the crown in his hand.

Danny shoots the Observant on principal.

Unfortunately, Observants are freakishly strong for only being a giant floating eyeball and, sure enough, he had a grand total of three different pursuers behind him. The only thing that could make his day better is if Valerie shows up to join the party.

(He really, really hopes Valerie does not show up to join the party. Danny doesn’t think he can handle his parents, the Observants and Valerie well enough to keep the crown off his head and his secret intact.)

Too add to Danny’s extreme luck, he can only take so many ectoblasts before even he needs to land lest he be forced to transform back into a human. He lost the Observant someone a couple blocks back, but, sadly, his parents will not be bound by important things like traffic laws and speed limits. His parents end up cornering him in some wayward back alley where they stand at the mouth, blocking the entrance. Both guns are trained on his grounded form.

His dad aims his ectogun right at Danny’s face and shouts, “Freeze, spook!”

Danny really, really doesn’t want to fight his parents but he also doesn’t want to be caught and dissected, so he powers up his ectoblasts anyways and waits for a good enough opening to fly away without being shot out of the sky for a second time today. His mom watches him with a wary caution that he matches. Out of the two, she’s definitely the more dangerous one.

“Come quietly, Phantom. You’re trapped,” his mom says.

It’s then that the Observant decides to make its appearance directly next to his parents at the mouth of the alley, holding out the crown. His parents jump at the sudden arrival of yet another ghost but the Observant pays them no mind.

“GHOST!” Jack yells and hoists his gun to the newest arrival.

“You’re the ghost that was in our house the other day,” his mom says with a sort of venom in her voice. She looks mad—like, actually pissed off—which is something Danny’s glad he’s never been on the receiving end of (yet). She seems almost conflicted, like she wants to aim at the new ghost but cant't since her gun is currently trained on Danny's chest.

The Observant hardly reacts, holding the crown out further. It meets Danny’s eyes and Danny has half a mind to blast the thing, despite his parents being there.

“Please do not make this more difficult than it already is,” it says.

There’s a split second in Danny’s mind where he almost considers turning himself over to his parents. Surely, it would be better than whatever awaited him should the Observant actually manage to crown him.

“Listen, guys,” Danny says and backs away. He holds up his hands, placating. “This has been fun and all but I’m very tired and I don’t actually want to deal with this so if I could, like, leave, that would be great.”

His mom’s eyes snap back over to him and she lifts her gun from where she had lowered in during her surprise. “You aren’t going anywhere, spook!”

The order actually got a rise out of the Observant. It turns to his parents with its single eye narrowed. “You have no jurisdiction over Phantom.”

“Phantom is in our town,” his mom snaps right back. The gun unwittingly moves more towards the Observant and less towards Danny. "Therefore we decide what is and is not fit!”

“He is the rightful king—"

“King?!”

"Ghosts don't have kings—"

Through the bickering, no one notices as Danny sinks into the floor, slips out of the alley and vanishes.

-----------------------------------

“Please, don’t,” Danny says.

He’s in ghost form, hovering about two hundred feet off the ground. It had been a normal morning for him so far despite the distinct lack of Observant appearances. Now, with a sick feeling in his stomach, Danny understands why.

In front of him, the Fright Knight stands in all his terrifying, ten foot tall glory. “You must bear the Crown of Fire and the Ring of Rage in order to take your place on the throne."

"Cant we talk about this, maybe?" Danny says, a little leery and more than a little pissed off. It's one thing to deal with a bunch of annoying, flying eyeballs but it's another thing entirely for said flying eyeballs to recruit the ghost of nightmares.

"I apologize, my prince, but there is no option here.”

Behind the Fright Knight, ten or so Observants loiter in the air. The one in the middle holds the familiar flaming crown and another holds the ring. They surround him in a semicircle, looking expectantly at the Fright Knight.

Danny’s life really just sucks.

“Oh, there’s an option alright,” Danny snaps. If there's one thing he hates, it's not being given a choice and while this is going to hurt (it’s so going to hurt), Danny is not going to let the Observants or the Fright Knight get that god-awful crown on his head. “I beat you once and I can do it again!”

The Fright Knight tilts his head in recognition and draws his sword. “Perhaps, but I am not playing to win.”

Has Danny ever mentioned that his life sucks? Because his life sucks.

“Should we help him?” Tucker asks Sam from where they stand below. Danny can just barely make out the words they’re saying with humming of his core and the rush of adrenaline that shoots through his system.

“I don’t think they’re planning on hurting him?” Sam answers back. “Besides do you have anything to go up against the Fright Knight?”

“Point,” Tucker says.

(Danny has great friends.)

“We would rather have done this the easy way,” one of the Observants says. The others bob their eyeballs in agreement.

Danny whirls on them, eyes narrowed. “You forfeited your right to have opinions on what's easy when you brought the Fright Knight into this!”

“It’s for your own good,” the same Observant answers. “The Fright Knight serves the king and the king alone.”

“For your own good,” Danny grumbles under his breath, mockingly. His hands light up with ectoplasm. “We’ll see about that.”

The fight doesn’t take long.

It’s as the Fright Knight said; he is not fighting to win. The knight is not below a few dirty tricks to hold Danny down for just a few seconds. Danny puts up a good fight but he's running on three shots of espresso and maybe a sum total of six hours of sleep the entire week thanks to the constant threat of observants trying to put the crown on his head or ring on his finger. Safe to say, he's not in his prime condition.

The Fright Knight ends up pinning him down in the middle of the destroyed street. His friends rush forward to help, but two Observants hold them back. Danny thrashes from where he’s pinned but he can’t do much more than move his head around. The Fright Knight and his horse are, unsurprisingly, very heavy and apparently very well trained in holding down slippery, intangible ghost-teenagers.

The Observant holding the crown approaches him slowly. Danny tries to bite it’s long, claw like hands out of spite but the Observant goes intangible before he can make contact. It slowly lowers the crown towards his head.

Danny’s eyes flash a dangerous green. “I swear, if you put that crown on my head I’ll—are you kidding me?!”

The Observant drops the crown on his head. It hovers just a few centimeters above his hair and Danny immediately feels a heavy sort of energy expanding throughout his body. The crown flares to life, changing from a small flicking fire to a roaring flame as power gathers in his very core.

“You could have come to your own coronation, however, we were forced to make drastic measures,” the Observant that crowned him says.

Boy, doesn't that just set Danny off.

With a snarl, Danny uses the new energy to twist and blast the Fright Knight off his back. The crown follows his movement, flaring brightly whenever he uses his powers. Instead of fighting back, the knight merely bows and disappears. Danny waits a couple moments, tense and ready to fight, but it seems the Fright Knight has done what he came here to do.

The crown feels heavy on his head.

He blasts the two Observants holding Sam and Tucker, too, just because they’re annoying. They rush over to him, but he holds up a hand and motions for them to wait. There are, after all, still ten ghosts and a ring that Danny needs to avoid.

Danny turns to the Observants, fights clenched and eyes narrowed. “Okay, congrats! You win. The crown is on my head. Please get rid of it now.”

“The Crown of Fire is your right,” one Observant says. “It belongs to you alone.”

An idea suddenly comes to mind.

“Cool,” Danny says, slowly. He takes the crown off and is surprised how little it resist. The fire doesn’t even burn his hand as he holds it by the rim. “Then you won’t mind if I do this.”

He throws the crown as far as he can, watching it sail above the homes. It flies for a hot minute before flicking out of sight. Danny feels strangely satisfied when he turns to the Observants with a grin on his face. However, the Observants don’t look nearly as worried as Danny expects them to. In fact, they look unbearably smug for what is, functionally, a giant floating eyeball.

The looks he's getting ring as very bad in his mind.

Something heavy settles back on his head. Danny’s smile drops and feels a sinking alarm in his gut when he reaches up to touch the flaming crown that he had, just mere seconds ago, thrown across the entire town. The same power settles in his core once again.

“No,” Danny whispers, horrified.

“Holy shit,” Tucker says from across the street.

Danny turns and catches Sam’s eye. She mouths what is going on? at him. Danny wishes he knew anything about what’s happening but, as always, he’s clueless and confused and no small part of him is very, very angry.

The Observants merely stare at him. One steps forward and says, “The crown is yours by right. Hold out your hand and we will bestow upon you the Ring of Rage. Then your coronation will be completed and we shall leave you and return to the Infinite Realms to continue our temporal duties.”

Danny’s flare a brighter green. Ectoplasm pools in his hands and he readies for another fight. He doesn’t know it at the time, but his crown flickers to life. Suddenly uneasy, the Observants back away slowly.

“If you try and put that ring on my hand I will cut off my fingers,” Danny says.

“You won’t,” another Observant says.

“Wanna bet?”

They get the ring on his finger but, by god, Danny doesn’t go down without blasting all ten of them into the ground first. They pin him just like before, in yet another crater in the middle of a street with the crown on his head, the ring on his finger and unimaginable power flowing through his veins.

Apparently satisfied, the Observants let him up and quickly retreat. Danny stands, grumbling all the while, brushes off the remainder of dust on his suit and turns to the Observants. He's staring at the group, wondering just how he should get rid of them after they ruin more lives when all ten of then fall to their knees.

Danny takes a step back in alarm.

“All hail King Phantom,” the Observants say together. Their voices echo across the quiet streets of Amity Park. “Defeater of Pariah Dark and ruler of the Infinite Realms.”

People come out of their houses, peeking and staring up at him in horrified awe. Children point to his crown and laugh while the eyes of the adults reflect unseen amounts of terror. Danny can already see whatever good reputation he had dying like a snuffed out flame due to a single announcement. Danny meets Sam and Tucker’s eyes and wishes for nothing more than to flicker out of existence at that very moment.

Instead, Danny is forced to stand there, arms crossed and pissed off, with a burning crown floating on his head, a heavy ring on his finger and the weight of the entire Ghost Zone on his shoulders.

It’s quite possibly the worst day he’s ever had in his entire half-life.

-----------------------------------

The ghosts coming out of the portal over the next couple days to congratulate him almost make the situation worse.

It’s Johnny 13 who comes out first, gives him an exaggerated bow with a grin and says, “Hope you have a fun time being king, kiddo. I don’t envy you.”

Danny, who has had the worst two weeks of his life, simply rolls his eyes and mutters a sarcastic, “Thanks.”

“Kitty sends her regards as well," Johnny flashes him a lopsided grin and gets on his bike. He raves the engine before suddenly looking back. "Don’t expect the current peace to last.”

Danny watches him go, hands in his head. The crown flickers in the dim light and ring glows. He’s still not quite sure what a normal king is supposed to do; much less king of the Ghost Zone.

-----------------------------------

“The crown looks good on you, dipstick,” Ember says, later, when he’s out flying and trying to clear his head. No matter what he’s tried, the crown and ring simply won’t go away. He's been forced to wear an assortment of hats and gloves in order to keep his parents from finding out. They're pissed enough that Phantom was crowned the Ghost King as it already is.

“I hate this,” Danny tells her. “I want the crown and the ring gone.”

The other ghosts are definitely enjoying his absolute misery, even if they were all on somewhat friendly terms. As it turns out, a lot ghosts tend to play suck-up when confronted with unimaginable power.

Ember's smile widens and she says, “Well they’re your crown and ring. You can do what you want with them.”

Danny wants them gone. Then, he realizes something and stares at her in surprise.

“Was that advice?” Danny asks. "Did you just give me advice?”

“Did I?”

“I thought you hated me.”

“Right now, I pity you more than anything,” Ember tells him. “It’s whatever, babypop. You’re the king now and you’re no Pariah Dark so even if you do get in the way of my plans, I’d rather have you be king than go back to his rule.”

“That’s a very low bar to set,” Danny mutters under his breath. He stands, the crown flaring as he does so. He tries to hide his scowl. “Don’t cause trouble or, I dunno, try and brainwash the entire human population, and you can stay.”

He disappears into the air, content to head home for the night. Behind him, Ember calls out, “Think about what I said, dipstick! It’s your own power. You just have to learn how to use it.”

Later that night, he floats on his bed an concentrates. His own power bubbles to the surface and, in a fit on control, he wills his ring and crown to disappear. The objects flicker once, twice, before vanishing entirely. They’re not completely gone, of course, because he can still feel the power in his body but hidden is better than nothing.

-----------------------------------

Technus gives him some weird ghost device as a congratulations present. Danny’s pretty sure it’s not going to explode and/or capture him, but he can never be certain with a ghost like Technus. He ends up quietly shuffling it to Tucker when the technology-themed ghost isn’t looking.

Youngblood, Spectra, the Box Ghost, Lunch Lady, Desiree and even Vlad (holy shit) come and give him (begrudging) congratulations. Half of them think it's hilarious that he’s the poor sucker who gets the bear the burden of the crown while the other half think it’s too much power for his tiny halfa body to handle. Luckily, Danny now has a much easier time sending them back to the Ghost Zone if they get too rowdy.

Vlad gives him an especially vindictive look when he corners Danny in their human forms. Danny returns his look by secretly flipping him off since he can’t exactly shoot the mayor with an ectoblast in public.

Vlad leers over him in what's supposed to be intimidating. “I doubt you can hold on to that crown forever, boy.”

Danny might not want to be king but there’s absolutely no way that he would ever let the crown or the ring fall into Vlad’s hand.

He pushes Vlad away and clenches his fists, eyes narrowed. “Are you going to try and take it from me, fruitloop?”

“Perhaps another time,” Vlad says with a smile. Danny holds his fists to his side to keep from punching him in the face. “After all, a crown is a heavy burden for a child to bear.”

Danny grits his teeth. “I think I’ll manage.”

“We will see, little badger,” Vlad says and turns to leave.

Danny glances around, just to make sure no one is looking, before creating a tiny ice patch right in front of Vlad. He tries to keep his laughter muffled (but definitely takes pride) when the billionaire-asshole slips and sends him a particularly nasty glare. He gives Vlad the most innocent wave he can muster despite the grin on his face.

Danny thinks he probably needed that meeting with Vlad. While he still doesn’t want the crown, Danny finds that spite is one hell of a motivator to keep the crown as far away from Vlad as possible.

-----------------------------------

Skulker comes last. To Danny’s horrified surprise, he bows low and says, “Congratulations.”

Danny stands in his pajamas at three o’clock in the morning and feeling slightly overwhelmed. “Alright, this is more than a little weird.”

“It’s custom to greet the new king,” Skulker says and straightens back out. Danny’s half waiting for a gotcha! and some missiles but Skulker doesn’t do much more than observe him.

Danny narrows his eyes and crosses his arms. “Do you have to be weird about it?”

“Don’t get me wrong, whelp,” Skulker says as he turns to leave. “This will not last. I hope you realize that just because you are king does not mean I will stop hunting you. Your crown just makes you that much more valuable to mount on my wall.”

Danny shifts between feeling touched and a little relived at the normalcy of the situation and the normal disgust that comes with Skulker threatening to skin him because, really, it’s just gross. Despite his words, he still hears the silent message Skulker is trying to convey.

Just because your king doesn’t mean anything will change.

And that? That’s more than a little relief off his shoulders. For the first time since he was crowned, Danny lets out a genuine bark of laughter and a grateful smile comes to his face.

“Thanks,” Danny says. “I don’t think I’d have it any other way.

#i wrote all 7k of this in one day so Thats Neat #anyways theres too much angsty in the danny phantom fandom so im making it my lifes mission to write not-angst #danny phantom #phic #phicc #i think thats what this fandom calls fanfiction uuuhhhhhhh #danny fenton #danny phantom fanfiction #my fics #phandom #idk what else to tag this as so just take it #do readmores even work on mobile or is tumblr like. broken.

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hillywooddestiel · 5 years ago

Text

Stranger Things Have Happened- Chapter Thirteen

Chapter 13: The Battle at Byers

Characters: Y/N Winchester, Nancy, Jonathan, Steve, Sam, Dean

Warnings: angst, language

Word count: 1.9k

Series description: Hawkins, Indiana, November 1983. The Winchesters got out of hunting and decided to settle down in a small town. The youngest of the three, Y/N, just wants to get on with her somewhat normal life and go to a good college. But that’s a little tricky when disappearances start occurring, including her friend Barbara Holland, and there’s reports of a mysterious new girl in town. Can she balance boyfriends, teen drama and monster hunting?

A/N: Hello again! This series has been picking up a lot and its been lovely watching people go through chapter by chapter in my notes (thanks for all the reblogs) I’ve nearly finished writing this and that actually makes me a little sad. I’ve loved coming up with this series and tying Supernatural and Stranger Things together in this way. And my brain may or may not have been prodding me with ideas for a sequel. I don’t know if I can commit to starting it until things are a bit more organised around here. Anyways enjoy xx Series Masterlist Masterlist

Story:

“It's here, it's coming.”

“Where is it?”

“Wait, what's here?! What's here- whoa easy with that!” Jonathan and Nancy rotate themselves back to back around the room while Steve panics over the lights, the gun, the bat full of nails- he's just in full panic mode over everything going on right now. Nancy has the gun close to her chest while Jonathan has his homemade bat thing up like he's prepared to hit a home run. Steve finches away when he swings it around and rightly so; that thing looks lethal! Man, I want one.

“I don't see it!” Nancy frets, still spinning in their little formation. Meanwhile, I'm just stood next to Steve trying to listen out for the damn thing which is a little tricky with all of this noise.

“Where is what?! Hello? Will someone please explain to me what the hell is going-” a huge smash from the ceiling cuts Steve off. Plaster and wood fall to the floor as an enormous slimy creature falls through the roof. It stands tall, much taller than any of our squad, opening its mouth hole/ face (if you can call it that) and screams at us at a shrill volume. Nancy fires 3 shots at it that barely do anything. I just stand on the spot staring at the thing in half horror, trying to remember all of my lore to work out what the hell it could be. I have nothing.

“Go, go! Run, go!” Jonathan turns around to myself and Steve, ushering us in the direction of safety, “Get out of here! Jump!” He warns us just in time to vault the fucking bear trap he has nailed to the floor. What the hell Jonathan?!

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god!” Steve panics aloud, looking at all of us with eyes the size of golf balls, “Jesus Jesus, what the hell was that?!”

“Shut up!” Both Nancy and Jonathan shout in unison. I agree; he was getting really annoying. I had enough of worriers back in the hunting days. With all of the screaming done with, we listen out for the creature outside the door making it's strange, alien, purr-like sound. There's a yellow yo-yo with a happy smile on it strung over the back of a chair by the door, presumably linked up to some Scooby Doo style trap- the bear trap! My respect for these guys just went up by a lot.

“What's it doing?” Nancy asks, keeping her eyes and gun on the door.

“I don't know.” Jonathan glances to all of us. The lights stop flickering, going back to normal and the strange noise coming from outside stops. It can't be gone, surely? For a creature that came through the ceiling like it was made of Lego, it gave up very quickly on killing us.

“Do you hear anything?”

“No…”

Taking tentative steps, Nancy and Jonathan lead the pack into the living room again. Steve brings up the rear, muttering incoherently like a crazy person.

“This is crazy. This is crazy.” He runs his hands through his signature big hair, trembling as he spirals out of control, “This is crazy. This is crazy! This is CRAZY!” He grabs the phone from the wall and jabs 9-1-1 into the keypad. Nancy snatches it away from him and ends the call before anyone picks up. “What are you do- what are you doing? Are you insane?!”

“It's going to come back.” Nancy growls, “So you need to leave. Right. Now.”

“Do you two want to explain to me what the hell is going on?” I put on my best mom voice when the door slams behind Steve as he flees the house, “You left me at school to babysit because what? You two know what you're doing?”

“I'm sorry Y/N/N, but this is something I have to do. For Barb.”

“And I don't want to do that? Nancy, I know it wasn't long but she was my friend too! Out of everyone here in this town, I am the only person who knows about this stuff. I hunt monsters, that's what I do. It's what I'm good at.”

“I know that. But just because you've done before, doesn't mean you have to now.”

“Yes it does! If something happened to any of you guys and I did nothing… I would not be able to live with myself.” I realize, as I speak, that I sound so much like Dean when we were deciding whether or not to really leave everything behind. He went on and on about the job and our duty and how, by quitting, every death caused by the supernatural would be on us for not stepping in. It all came from Dad really; he always instilled in us that hunting was in our blood. It was our destiny, almost.

“Barb is not on you Y/N. None of this is on you.” Nancy hugs me tightly nearly sending me into tears. But when the lights begin to flicker once again, we quickly spring apart. Shit shit shit shit SHIT!

Cocking my gun, I opt not to join the others spinning around the room and instead train my gaze on the ceiling where the bear dropped from before.

“Where is it?”

“Come on! Come on you son of a bitch!” Jonathan riles himself up- subtlety is not his strong suit I see.

“You see it?”

“No, you?” I answer Nancy, glancing briefly at the flashing fairy lights to see them turn off completely. We're plunged into almost complete darkness. I blink. The creature from earlier rises up behind Nancy and Jonathan making it's weird sound again, unbeknownst to them. “Guys…”

“Wha-” they barely get the chance to speak before the thing attacks Jonathan and pins him to the ground. Watching him get covered in goo from the creature is oddly reminiscent of Cujo. But now is not the time.

“Jonathan!” Nancy shouts, not phasing the Demogorgon at all, “Jonathan! Jona-”

“Don't just stand there, shoot it!” I cock my gun and fire the first shot, not really aiming for any part in particular since I know nothing about the damn thing. I fire twice more with no effect while Nancy fires five times. After the fifth bullet is fired, the Demogorgon turns and screams in our direction.

“Go to hell you son of a bitch!” Nancy fires again and again until she pulls on the trigger and all the gun does is click- she's out of bullets. They don't seem to be working anyway so things could be worse. Well, they are worse. The Demogorgon comes towards us, angered by our efforts to harm it. I take a step back and find my footing unsteady, falling quickly to the floor and hitting my head on something solid.

“Ah fuck!” I wince, a sharp pain so spreading through my skull and dancing behind my closed eyes. That's going to leave one hell of a bruise.

“Y/N/N, you okay?!” Nancy helps pull me back up.

“I will be… what about…” the ringing in my ears subsides and I can hear what sounds like Steve screaming. It is Steve screaming. He has the bat full of nails and is in the middle of an assault on the monster, pushing it towards the bear trap. It snaps around it's ankle causing a shrill scream to come from the weird hole in it's face.

“He's in the trap! He's stuck!” Steve declares.

“Jonathan, now!” Nancy urges. Jonathan flicks the lighter on and chucks it onto the trail of gasoline. It ignites and travels swiftly to the trap, sending the creature up into flames. The inferno continues to grow to an unsafe size for which Jonathan luckily has a fire extinguisher at hand. Plumes of smoke fill the house, clouding my vision and entering my lungs making breathing rather difficult. Combine with my head injury, I really don't feel good right now.

“Where did it go?” Nancy sputters, staring down at the bubbling goop left behind on the trap.

“No, it has to be dead… it has to be.”

“Umm… hate to be the one to break it to you Jonathan but we don't know for sure. Bullets weren't working, who's to say fire does?”

“If you are saying you think it could survive that, you're crazy.” Steve buts in (I was forgetting he doesn't know everything).

“That's exactly what I'm saying. Other creatures have done it.”

“You mean like roaches?”

“I mean like shapeshifters and skinwalkers.”

“Skin what? What are you talking-”

“Hey look!”

We all look up to what Nancy is pointing at. One of the string lights is lit up. And then another one. And then two more. We follow them along the corridor to the front door, mesmerised by the colourful little bulbs as random ones come to life to form a trail.

“Mom…” Jonathan focuses on them, whispering under his breath so quietly I barely hear him. “Mom, is that you?” He receives no reply. Whatever is causing the light display continues to travel, taking us outside to the front porch. In the near distance, the street lamp light flickers gently. It's the last sign of something in the alternate dimension before the track goes cold.

“Where's it going?” Nancy asks, watching down the dark road as though he'll see something any second now.

“I don't think that's the monster…” Jonathan says rather ominously.

“Yeah, it probably would have come back already.” My comment gets the stink eye from all three of them, “What? It's true.”

“Is anyone going to explain to me what the hell is going on?” Ah yes, Steve. Prepare for a shitstorm of a story my friend.

I repeat a shortened version of the tale I told everyone back before we went to the school and I also fill him in on the whole situation with Will. Nancy and Jonathan but in with extra details where needed, making it very clear to Steve that nothing was going on between them. Smooth guys.

“So… you did this for a living?”

“Not exactly- we didn't get paid. There was a lot of credit card fraud.”

“Cool.” Steve remarks, his face changing to a frown when he catches Nancy's glare.

“It was only small amounts, we never took more than we needed. And it was always with the shady banks.” I clarify.

“This is insane! You guys could have told me, I could've helped you Nancy.”

“We didn't want to just go telling everyone. And… I didn't want you to get hurt.” Nancy takes Steve's hands as reassurance. Jonathan swallows hard and tries to look away, fiddling with the cuff of his jacket. Methinks there are some feelings there. And unfortunately they are one sided.

“Right, well we should probably get back to the-” BANG! The front door flies open startling us all. Steve grabs his bat while Nancy and myself grab our guns leaning Jonathan to take a lamp as a weapon. I relax when the two blundering giants come in with their guns raised.

“Guys, it's okay. It's just my brothers.” I gesture for everyone to put their weapons down. Dean flares his nostrils, glaring at me- here we go!

“You have got a lot of explaining to do Y/N.”

STHH Tags

@marslovesme @bluedefundead @elenavaldez09@mysanityisgone27 @adridedong @princess-of-erebor1992 @coffeeandwinchesters

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helpinghanikan · 6 years ago

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Pet or guilt trip, your choice

Avengers (and Matt Murdock) x reader

Sum: no home is complete without a pet, or second best

Steve Rogers:

After the first attack on New York gifts and presents started pilling in the lobby. For every member of the team at that point, even the ones who the public didn’t know the name of. Flowers, candy, clothes, jewelry, and sometimes straight up cash. Most were donated (save for the drawings, and that one necklace Nat was not going to let go of), and among those gifts were Lady.

She was a little golden retriever puppy, pink bow around her neck. Security guard (a wall of a man) was cooing over her when you had walked in.

Accepting her on Steve’s behalf she fit snuggly in the crook of one arm. The other holding the files. Help from fellow employees pressed elevator buttons and open doors kept Lady from touching the floor.

You sat Lady down after seeing him in your office. Opening the door and nudging her inside with the toe of your pump. She goes right for the next available source of attention in the room, Steve kneeling to her level. She whines and goes for his face, tiny paws trying to get traction on his shirt collar and get to more of his face.

“Careful of Cujo there,” You say, papers on the desk.

“I don’t- okay, later.” Another movie added to the list. “Who is this?”

“Our child,” You said, an arsenal of guilt ready to be used.

Tony Stark:

You’d need more hands to count how many times you’ve tried to get a pet. Tony has dodged every attempt with legit reason; cats knock things over, dogs are a lot of work and messy, birds? No, just no.

This helped create the “Stark adoption day”, your personal project. Part passion project, part proof that you are more than just some trophy on Tony’s arm. Working with any shelter that will have you (which was a good majority) and setting up the meet and greet with dogs, cats and everything else in the park. Unsurprisingly it was maybe an hour before people started asking about Tony.

It was a little deflating that people were more concerned about Tony than the animals. This was why you had gotten to Tony before he made his entrance. Making sure he’s not wearing anything that he wouldn’t want ruined.

Adoption rates went through the roof. Hand picking the oldest, least desirable pets and putting them on the for-front. Tony holding a single eyed orange cat was still being cycled around, another where you had stolen his sunglasses for a brief moment and placed them on the bridge of an old saint-bernard. Both of them were adopted within the hour on that day.

Thor:

Thor had a horse, Thor had a big fucking horse.

“What’cha got there?” A lame question with an obvious answer.

He had this confidence that everyone should envy. Even when he doesn’t know where or what’s going on, he is still so sure. Just like now, holding black reins of this dun horse, tail black, mane matching.

“Gail,” A simple name that he probably didn’t pick out. “She’s from the neighbors,” Neighbors who were over two miles away. “Come, come here.”

His hand lays over yours, guiding you to stroke her neck.

Whether you had experience with horses or not it didn’t matter. Gail was Thor’s girl. A free ranged horse that wondered your property, coming into her little barn when the weather is less than pleasant.

Thor gets this look on his face when brushing Gail. Every bit of stress, every forced laugh and smile is gone when he mounts her up. How could you say no to that?

Bucky Barnes:

He hadn’t noticed you yet, sitting on the patio steps. The rented cottage was angled so the sun caught whatever rested on the porch. Usually it were local cats, this time they were joined by your man. Scratching his head at just the right angle, gleam of metal sending magic over the stone.

He’s a tuxedo with white on only his back-left paw. Following the little white dots along the stone and up the wall. Both paws reaching out to slap at the light swishing side to side, following it left to right and back down to the porch. He was one of those outdoor cats, born in the wild. Scratched up ears and skinny body to match.

Bucky raises his arms up and down for the sun to catch it. Kitty not having a care in the world no matter how close he got to the large man. Eventually attacking Bucky’s leg, pressing against it and bouncing back. Turning around and attacking again, maybe trying to confuse his prey.

“Oh God, I love it.” Wanda had texted when you sent the video.

Kitty was your host for the duration of the small vacation. Probably hanging around because of the food you had left out, letting out a jagged meow while trotting up whenever Bucky leaves the cabin.

By the last day Kitty sat next to the bags stacked by the door. Staring, daring like he was daring you to try and leave without him.

Natasha Romanoff:

His name is Clint and he’s a bastard.

Just like the man he was named after, the large African gray parrot hung out in the highest points of the apartment when alone. Sometimes flying down to chill on the counter or couch when Nat was home, bouncing around the apartment while she would watch amused.

He was adopted when Natasha officially moved in. Someone for you to be with while she was away. She really loved him, cooing at him when perched on her shoulder. Speaking in any language she knew as a greeting.

Nat was Clint’s obvious favorite. The moment she was gone he would go into his corner. Waiting for you to be in sight before throwing an actual tantrum. There was a real chance that Clint was a cat reincarnated; going into your kitchen and knocking down the hung-up mugs, opening the cabinets and marching on the plates when he locks himself in. He’ll scream into the void between the couch and wall, grab at chips or snacks as your bringing them to your mouth. In those few minutes that he’s calm he’ll stay in front of you and just stare;

“Bring mom back, or I’ll tear this house apart.”

The worst? He can speak, but only in Russian. You hadn’t learned what he was saying, but he was likely cursing you out.

Bruce Banner:

She’s a street beggar that had a love for fried chicken. With a meow too high for a cat her age, not caring about dangers and stretching deep. Her front paws against your leg, as though she just happens to be leaning against you.

She does this every day when you pass. Accepting whatever sort of meaty substance you have at the moment. Seeming to glare when you had the audacity to offer a vegetable. At one point she followed after eating the treat, it was a spur of the moment decision to scoop from the old cat, her nails barely pressing into the cloth of your sleeves.

It honestly took a few days before Bruce noticed Peppermint. She was an older cat, her all black coat had some shimmer of gray from age. Long haired and only showed her bratty side at the vet, or when she was being brushed.

You really, really should have told him about her when you first got home. He wasn’t home very often, a little house outside of a city. Even the mildest mannered of the Avengers was almost never home. This was among the excuses you had used for randomly adopting a cat.

“She was alone, like me.” You are a real asshole sometimes.

Of course, you never blamed Bruce for having to be gone. You’ve spent years separated until the Avengers brought you back together, another few more when he disappeared into the sky. Using all that for a cat? She better be one amazing cat.

T’Challa:

The man has battle rhinos, you’d think he could handle a French bulldog.

Cosmo was a spoiled coworker’s birthday present. She lost interest in him after he passed his puppy phase. Her comments about taking him to the shelter had perked your ears, swooping in to save the little boy right behind her.

He’s a real brat, you love him, but he’s the worst.

You’ve just never realized how bad he was until T’challa insisted you visit for a longer period then expected. This was the journey of many firsts for Cosmo; first time on a plane, first time leaving country and the first time in Wakanda. First time meeting Okoye, who just watched this little black ball raise on his paws and stare at her on the plane seat. He growled deep in his throat, whining up at her and she just stared back. Eventually he just started barking, sitting on his butt and barking to the sky. Demanding she pick him up.

She just smiles down at him, head on her hand. Seeing how long this boy was going to whine until he gave up. Cosmo was going the entire flight, Okoye would make a great mother.

Shuri’s face lighting up was worth bringing the little booger along. It wasn’t that there were no small dogs in Wakanda, or that she didn’t know what a French bull dog was, it was just a breed that wasn’t necessary to adopt from the outside world. With both hands she holds him up to her face, more than willing to watch him while you met up with T’challa.

His face looking at Cosmo was one of “What did you bring into my home?”

And he kept that face every time Cosmo stared up at him with that old man wheezing. Or when Cosmo would take a sock from those placed out, running from the room with it like he had just robbed a bank. His worst offense is to have the audacity to squeeze his firry butt between you and T’chall at night. Too deep in sleep to hear the names your man was calling your second favorite boy.

Pietro Maximoff

Nothing can cement a person to one place like a sleeping pet.

They’ve been stuck to the same spot for the past hour. The black and white husky resting her head on his lap, one paw over the knee as a way to say “please, don’t move.”

Pietro’s face was annoyed, but his dominate hand kept a good rhythm of petting Savannah’s head. The other flicked through channels, occasionally looking your way. Maybe to see what you were doing (still on the laptop), maybe to look for help. Not that you’d ever mess with your copper and white colored princess.

She would nip at your legs, howl and scream when the food would take too long. Keeping Pietro wrapped around her paw whenever he left the house. Growling low in her throat when he’d tell her no. She would do this until he grabbed her leash, muttering in his mother language as she wiggled with excitement.

Peter Parker:

Peter held the little guy way too close to his face. Looking at the white and fawn spotted bunny in his hands, inspecting him as though he might not have been an actual rabbit. In his defense Happy was cute little guy.

It was like a divorce from a marriage that never happened. Happy was a plan that took weeks in the making. Infecting each other with the Bun disease after watching one too many “how to care for your rabbit” videos in the wee hours of the morning. He spent most his life at your place, taking him Peter’s a few times a week during “Dates”.

It wasn’t that Aunt May had explicably said no, she just gestured around the apartment. “We barely fit in here.” The woman was immune to the bunny charms, still more than willing to hold him, though. Making kissy noises and cooing.

This was Happy’s life now. Seeing his Daddy every “date” night. The two of your sitting across from each other on the floor, legs stretching out for your feet to be flat against each other. Creating a tiny carrel for Happy to choose which parent he will be cuddled by.

Stephen Strange:

It wasn’t so much Stephen had said no that Wong did. He had the look of a man who had seen the effects of cats on old books and birds in wide open areas. Dogs don’t seem to be on the list of preferred pets for those working in mystic arts. They’re too good for them, anyway.

“It’s good karma,” You had said, door chiming when opened.

“Karma’s not real, Sweetie,” The nickname of condescension.

“You’re fucking attitude is. Hi, Marisa.”

There is probably a reason dogs aren’t chosen for mystic arts. They’re too much of a distraction, spending hours with these girls and boys. Filling bowls, washing cages and scrubbing puppies cleaned the soul.

Stephen had stood off to the side at first. One of those poor kids whose parents had never let him have a real pet (maybe a fish, but you can’t pet a fish). Slowly getting more accommodated with the dogs getting too excited around him. Then he met Beorn, the adult male Newfoundland who was getting on in age.

Because of his age he wasn’t the first option for adoption, a mass of black hair laying in his cage. Beorn nudged against his hand, a deep noise at the back of his throat that said, “I’m old and deserve pets. Get to it, youngster.”

Stephen’s hands disappeared into the black mass. Reaching for miles before he found the body and Beorn groaned at the attention. Stephen fell in love with him at that moment. Going with you to the shelter and just so happen to wander towards Beorn. Taking credit for volunteering while he only stays with this old bear.

“I want him,” He one day admitted on the way home.

“Talk to your work-husband.”

Matt Murdock:

“I don’t need a service dog,” He says.

“I’ll pay for it.” You says.

“Sweetie, Angel, no.” The double pet name. It’s on now.

“Come, how’d you get that busted lip?”

Thug two was quieter than thug one

“Walked into a door.” He says.

“And your ribs?”

Big crow-bar, bigger guy

“Went hard into a table.”

“You know what can keep you from doing that? A service animal.” Beers clink between your fingers while walking into the room.

“I have you for that.” He says.

“Wow,” You keep the bottle from his hands. Setting it on the coffee table instead.

“I didn’t mean that,” He reaches for the bottle. Missing by a few inches, leaning forward and pushing it gently into his hands. “I think the cane says I’m blind enough. I don’t have time for it either.”

“Dogs are suffering you know,” a drink of beer. You’re planning something. “And their shelter is underfunded.”

There it is; his little, bleeding heart, angel. “What do they need?”

“Lawyer on retainer, paperwork and stuff. “Another drink, a louder gulp. You hardly ever asked for anything, let alone a legal favor. “All your clients with them will be innocent. Ya know?”

Matt nods, “Foggy’ll love it.”

------------------------

Carol Danvers:

“This is just a favor to a friend,” Mr. Fury says walking with you through the house.

Middle of nowhere was an understatement, surrounded by fields owned by no one and woods belonging to the deer. You should probably ask if there was wifi in the place. That the phone line is connected out here is a serious long shot.

“In exchange for that favor,” You’ve only known this man for a few hours. Long enough for car ride and brief introduction that told you nothing but his name. In that time, you have learned he seemed to like being dramatic. Grabbing the carrier on the kitchen table and setting it on the floor with a clunk for dramatics. “He’s your problem now.”

The orange kitty inside obviously didn’t share Mr. Fury’s love for dramatics. Just sitting in the loaf position inside of his crate, barely acknowledging that he now had a way to roam around.

“Carol has a cat?” You ask.

The floor creaks as you squat down to see inside the crate better. Cat now acting like you meant nothing to him while he stretches out. Walking out and sniffing your outstretched fingers. A purr deep in his throat gets louder when he rubs against them, spinning to trail his tail between your fingers.

“He’s more then that. Just make sure he’s in front of your if they break in here.” Mr. Fury says, holding out a card to you. “When that happens give me a call.”

-----------------

Shang-Chi:

It takes a minute to realize that a turtle had made it’s home in Shang’s apartments. It’s enclosure blending a little too well with the shelves, lamps and junk that decorated Shang’s living space.

“That’s Sheldon-.” Shang begins.

“LAME!” Yells Katy from the couch.

“-Xialing gave him to me a bit ago. She said he ‘matched the décor and my attitude.’ Whatever that means.”

Seeing Sheldon making his way around the room. You had to agree. Especially as it was a pancake tortoise that moved around faster than you’d assume it to be.

Now that you knew Sheldon was there he was hard to miss. He walked through the tiles of the kitchen when let out of his enclosure and chilled on the carpet when Shang would get ready in the morning.

“I thought I was your pushup cheerleader.” You said one morning from your shared bed.

It was a blessing and a curse that Shang used pushups to wake up in the morning. A blessing because who doesn’t like to wake up to a beautiful view? And a curse because of the constant suggestion that you join him.

This morning he was doing the set as usual. With Sheldon choosing to hang out right under his owner. Completely confident in his dad’s ability to not just slam to the ground.

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epickendall · 5 years ago

Text

The Summer of Del'goxoth part 20

Sam didn't know how to feel for the moment right now, of course, she is happy that Danny is back at home safe and sound and he's ready to help to deal with the ghosts that have been running loose in Amity Park. On the other hand, Danny brought a girl from Gravity Falls that no clue who she is. Sam knew that there something between Danny and Wendy that they were becoming more than friends when she looked at the two looked at each other but for her sake and Danny Sam going to put this feeling aside which can be hard for her.

"So Wendy how did you and Danny met?" said Maddie

"Well Mrs. Fenton me and Danny first met where he had a whole identity for his disguised," said Wendy

"Which is?" said Tucker

"I wore a blonde wig, red hoodie, and the identity was River Robertson," said Danny

"You in a blonde wig I got to see that,"

"Anyway after we met I offer the tour of my town he accepted, and I showed him around," said Wendy

"After that we became friends," said Danny

"Then, how did you know that River was actually Danny," said Sam.

"After the tour, I chase after a ghost when that got away I change back to my human form, and my wig falls off, and Wendy saw the whole thing,"

"I was kinda pissed at for lying to me, but the next day he explains the whole situation about the cult and the FBI I forgive him and understanding the situation,"

"So what is it like in Gravity Falls Wendy?" said Valerie

"It's peaceful and has its quirks it can be weird at times,"

"I think we save the question for Wendy later after we deal with this ghost mess," said Jack

"Dad right we need to capture all the ghosts before they destroy the town," said Danny

"So do you guys have any thermos left to use," said Wendy

"We do, but Jack and I have a better idea before you, Val and Danny show up," said Maddie

Jack then shows everyone a large silver rectangular device with a green line straight in the middle.

"What is it?" said Valerie

"It's the Fenton Grabber," Jack said Proudly.

"The Fenton Grabber grabs any ghost near it and chains them together then drag them into it," said Maddie

"Isn't a bit big to carry around?" said Danny

"No worries this thing is going on top of the Fenton Family Ghost Assault Vehicle it'll take a few minutes to attach The Fenton Grabber on it," said Jack

"Alright then,"

While Jack and Maddie put The Fenton Grabber on the Fenton Family, Ghost Assault Vehicle in the garage Danny talked to Tucker, and Valerie Sam approaches Wendy.

"Hey Wendy got a sec," said Sam

"Yeah sure what you need Sam," said Wendy

"I got question do you have any feelings for Danny?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you like-like Danny?"

Wendy blushed at Sam question she knew that Sam is both his Ex and best friend so decide at least be truthful to Sam "Yeah I kinda like-like Danny not because he's a superhero and famous I think he's a great guy to hang around with like how sweet and caring he is,"

Sam sighs "just do me a favor Wendy if guys do to start dating just be a better girlfriend then I was when we were dating promise me that,"

"I promise Sam,"

"Alright everyone the Fenton Grabber is attached to the Rv let's get rolling!" Jack shouted from the garage

The teens go to the garage to see the Fenton Grabber on the Rv Wendy was blown away of the Rv.

"Danny, your parents, are the coolest," said Wendy

"I know," said Danny

Everyone gets in the Rv Maddie hit the garage door opener in the Rv, and the Rv drove out of the garage onto the streets ready to combat the ghosts.

Elsewhere in Amity Park Washington looked for any clues on where The Leader might be at then Washington see in an alleyway a white limo with the limo driver wearing all blue suit looking through binoculars on top of the limo.

"Bingo," Washington thought.

Washington walks over to the Limo driver he put on a shit-eating grin and approaches the limo driver.

"Hello my brother," said Washington

The Limo driver put his binoculars and looked at Washington, "Brother?"

"Yeah, I'm in the Del'goxoth,"

The Limo driver raises an eyebrow "if you are then where is blue clothes and your tattoo?"

"One all my blue clothes are in the cleaners, and I'm new to the cult, so I didn't get my tattoo yet,"

"If you really are in Del'goxoth, what is our purpose?"

"To find a god to this new world and get rid of the greed and waste of this earth," then Washington shoots a smile.

Limo driver seem convinced "alright brother I know you are telling the truth,"

"Hey, can you tell me where are Leader is I didn't get the information I dropped my phone in the toilet?"

"The Leader is at Lake Eerie waiting for us to capture Danny Phantom,"

"Thank you, my brother,"

Washington was about to knock the Limo driver out, but large ghost hawk grabs the Limo driver and lifts him in the air.

"I guess that takes care of him,"

Back to the Rv rolling down the streets finding a load of ghosts in the city streets and they turn their attention to the Rv.

"So how do we turn on the Fenton Grabbers?" said Tucker

"Easy we press this blue button," Maddie points at it.

"Who would like to push it?" said Jack

"I will," said Wendy

She pushed the button, and the Fenton Grabber turns on it's open up, and chains come out of the device they start to grab ghost near the Rv the device chain the ghost together and pull them inside of it.

"Hm didn't explode," said Jack

"Wait the Fenton Grabber could have blown us up," said Sam

"No about a small percent it could have,"

The Fenton Grabber works excellent as it grabbed any ghost from above it or far away as the Rv drive all over town capturing ghosts it could.

"Wow, it looks like we're going capture most ghost," said Tucker.

Then a missile explodes near the Rv everyone looked up to see Skulker fired the missiles while trying to avoid the Fenton Grabber.

"Seriously does he ever give up," said Danny

"Don't worry Danny I got this," said Wendy

Wendy gets out of the Rv quick as she aims her crossbow at Skulker, who laughs at Wendy.

"Please you think that would do damage to my su-" Skulker gets cut off when Wendy fires an arrow in Skulker eye hole paralyzing him to let the Fenton Grabber chain him as well with the other ghost Wendy get back into the Rv.

"Nice shot Wendy," said Valerie

"Thanks, Valerie," said Wendy

After two hours of driving all over the streets and letting the Fenton Grabber does it work all of the ghosts has been captured ending the city nightmare Jack drove everyone back to the Fenton Works that still guard by Cujo. Danny, Jack, Wendy, Maddie, and Valerie get the Fenton Grabber off of the Rv, and they took to the lab, and they release all of the ghosts into the ghost portal.

"We did it the city is ghost-free," said Jack

"So what's going to happen now?" said Sam

Then Danny received a text from Washington about where the cult is and that he's going to get the FBI backup and Danny tells everyone.

"We're going to end Del'goxoth,"

Everyone decides that Danny, Wendy, Sam, and Danny parents go to the lake put a stop to the cult for once for all. While Tucker goes to the town hall to tell everyone the good news while Valerie watches his back if the cult comes after him, they head to Lake Eerie in the Rv once they got there they see a giant circus blue tent has taken over the run-down camp.

"Everybody be ready we don't know what to expect if we enter the tent," said Danny

Maddie and Jack grab their ghost weapon as well handing Sam a ghost weapon and Wendy reload her crossbow they all enter the tent it was dark with no light until heavy ropes fly from above the tent and tie Danny parents, Sam and Wendy. The light turns and twenty cult member aiming their weapons at Danny and his group there was a stage at the back of the tent with a strapped chair and the Leader on the stage with a microphone.

"Hello Danny Phantom, at last, we finally meet," the Leader says into the microphone.

"It's over the FBI is coming here to put a stop to this madness,"

"Oh really then are they fast to get here when you become the god of this world,"

"I'll never be your god you nut-job,"

"You tell her, Danny!" Wendy shout

"Hm is either that or this," said the Leader who snapped her fingers the rope around Wendy, Sam, Jack, and Maddie started to tighten up. "Do you want to see them crushed from that rope and die right before your eyes?"

"Are seriously going harm my family and friends just to make me god," said Danny getting angry

"Whatever it takes to make you see that you have a greater purpose than being this world hero you could do more good to be god,"

Wendy then notices her Ax is slowly getting the rope she tries to reach for it, but she couldn't; however, she sees Sam next to it.

"Psst Sam, my Ax," Wendy whispered.

Sam notices what Wendy whispered about, "she caring Ax this whole time. What is this girl?" Sam thought she grabs the Ax from Wendy Ax holder and begins to cut it with no one looking.

"You better decide now hero," the Leader pulls out the Voxinir and points at Danny.

Then suddenly, an unknown force grabbed the knife from the Leader, and it flies above the stage. Danny ghost sense appears realizing a ghost taken the knife.

"Spirit that has taken my knife to give it back brother and sister," the Leader shouted and the cult member aim their weapon on the unknown ghost.

"Is this how you treat your new god," then the spirit reveals itself to be Logan Hall.

"Logan!" shouted Danny and Wendy

#Danny Phantom #gravityfalls wendy

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xxelijahxxscottxx · 6 years ago

Text

i wanna see you be brave|darco

Who: @sshardassanderson && @southsidefranco

Where: Franco’s hospital room

When: 19th January in the morning.

Info: Dare makes good in his promise to visit Franco.... Lots of fluff, a confession and a dream come true.

Word Count: 3,378

Trigger warnings: None (I think).... Fucko crying.... Lots of angst!

@sshardassanderson in ITALIC & @southsidefranco in BOLD

After going over to Blaine’s for the night to recharge from the nonsense of yesterday, Dare got up early to make sure he could make good on his promise. He showered and dressed in the minimal clothing he had left over at Blaine’s and started over to the hospital where he’d last left his brothers. Every floor had at least one Serpent skulking around, keeping an eye on things in case any of the fuckheads from yesterday decided to try some shit again. It wasn’t likely given that they’d really have to make a scene to get to Franco, but it was worth sending a few snakes in. Once in Franco’s room, Dare talked Cujo out for a few so they could talk and the taller Serpent could clean himself up a bit. He lightly tapped Franco’s hand, not really eager to wake him, but knowing they should talk. “Hey man. It’s Dare.”

Franco wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep but he knew it was in the early hours of the morning. He had woken throughout the night many times, nightmares consuming him every time he had tried to close his eyes. When he felt someone tap his hand, he jumped, his body aching with the movement. His eyes shoot open, and through the little gap he had, he could make out a man before he heard that it was Dare. He gulped and pulled his hand backwards, Dare should be able to touch him, the man had saved him, why was he so scared. He sighed, "True to your word. Hey Dare" he breathed.

“Easy easy,” Dare’s first thought was to restrain, but given the litany of injuries he held back and just moved back a little to avoid backlash. He kept away from Franco’s hand. He could sympathize with not wanting to be touched. “Hey you’re okay...” Dare murmured, keeping his hands to the side of the hospital bed instead. “Hey Fracko. Nice to see you’re awake in person. Gotta say, you’re still better looking than me. Despite the circumstances.” It was a weak attempt at lightning the mood, but he hoped it might gain some traction. “How are you feeling? Alejandro come see you?”

Franco took a few deep breathes and watched Dares hands. He felt terrible making him keep away, especially as Cujo had held his hand all night. He tried to laugh at the joke but it sounded choked, "Fracko" he whispered, "That's a different name. I've always been better looking then you". He felt himself tense and shiver as his body woke up and the pain seemed to wake with it, "I feel like shit. He came last night but I freaked out. He had a syringe. Pain relief or something but I couldn't let him near me". His hand was twitching on the bed, why had refused the help?

Dare frowned lightly, leaning on the guardrail of the bed. He wanted to comfort, that was part of his compulsive need to fix everything. But he needed to leave that part to Cujo. “I know you’re worried about the syringes my man, and if it was a rando I could get it. But Alejandro is trustworthy. If I remember, in order to make it go in faster, it goes in the IV.” He gestured to the needle in Franco’s hand. “And morphine is hella nice. Think maybe you can give it another try? I don’t want you to be in so much pain even opening your eyes hurts.”

Franco shook his head, "Its not. I don't know him. He might be a doctor but, Dare I can't" he forced out, fighing back tears, he didn't need everyone to see him cry. He gulped, "They said that it was nice, that I would just sleep but it didn't. I can't. I don't want to sleep. I'm scared of what happens if I close my eyes". He felt weak, felt pathetic... Dare was his leader, "I gotta be brave and strong, like a real serpent would".

“Hey hey hey,” Dare leaned back over a little more. “Shh. Listen to me. Even brave and strong Serpents have their moments of weakness. And you have gone through a lot of shit. This isn’t just ‘Franco got a boo boo’. These aren’t baby injuries. You endured six days of hell and lived to tell the tale. I don’t know that all of us could’ve done the same. So what about that makes you think that you’re not strong? That you’re not brave?” Dare sat back down, looking into his companion’s face sternly. “I could kill every last one of them for what they did to you. But I can promise you that until you do feel safe again, you’re not gonna be alone.”

Franco gulped as he listened to what Dare said, "I don't think I could have gone much longer" he nodded, "Bravery comes from those who fight. Not those who try and run and fail all the same". He regretted every day not trying to fight again but he had been tipsy, "I was just tipsy and didn't think it was something I could win". He watched Dare sit back and shook his head, "No revenge. It'll make it worse". He looked up at the door, at Cujo stood outside, "I don't think he'd leave me if you forced him".

“It probably wasn’t. It sounds like these guys were paid professionals. I mean...who jumps someone wearing a fucking suit?” Dare shrugged slightly. “Bravery comes from those who are smart enough to know when to fight or flee. You were outnumbered. And these guys were professionals. You could’ve been killed right then and there. Honestly if you weren’t so hurt right now I’d bop you on the head for being so dense. If instead of it being you it was Julian, would you be telling him he was cowardly and didn’t try?”

Franco nodded, "I think they worked for whoever owned that casino" he spoke. He didn't really know who owned it but he knew why he was kidnapped. Franco sighed and nodded, "I think being killed in the forest would have been kinder then what they did" he admitted. He listened to him talk about Julian, "That's not fair Dare" he breathed, "Julian's different".

“No, it’s the same exact thing. J is a bit younger but he’s no different than all the things you’re calling out. He’s a Serpent. Not every one of us is going to be a Cujo. Sure...he probably would’ve went down swinging.” Dare paused briefly, gathering his thoughts. “In your position I don’t know that I would’ve fought back either. I probably would’ve tried to run instead. Outnumbered by guys in god damn suits. They could’ve had guns.” He reaches over, cautiously and gingerly brushing his hair back. “You did what you could with the time you had.”

"Julian is smaller and no offense, doesn't exactly have as much muscle as me. He would have had to run". Franco sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, when would he stop blaming himself. "I'm not even sure what they had. I know they had some rag that made me feel sleepy". He watched as Dare reached up and moved his hair. His whole body tensed but he didn't push away. He held his breath and fought through it, "Why is it so hard for you to touch me? Cujo does all the time".

“Because I’m not Cujo.” Dare explained with a shrug, bringing his hands back away. “I’m not somebody you’ve been intimate with or shared anything deeply personal with. It’s not the same kind of connection that you have with me. I’m your friend, your family, but I’m not that kind of family.” Dare grabbed a cup of ice water that was sitting next to the bed with a straw sticking out of it and brought it over, offering it, not forcing. “You gotta stop beating yourself up for this. Nobody got hurt. Whether or not we could have is irrelevant because no one did. And most importantly, we got you home. Water?”

Those 4 words hit Franco like a sack of bricks. They were true and accurate. Dare wasn't Cujo. No one was. No one could compare to how he felt about that man. He finally broke and let the tears roll down his cheek, "God, what am I putting him through? How must he be feeling?" he spoke softly. He looked at the straw and nodded, leaning forward slightly to sip the straw, "Water is good" he nodded.

Dare offered an understanding, cautious smile, making sure that Franco had his fill of water before he set the cup back aside. “He’s right outside the door. And what he’s feeling is probably relief. You’re putting him through relief that he still managed to hold your hand and see you looking at him again. And soon he’ll hear you laugh and smile and you guys can do a bunch of fucking around.” He straightened up a little, cracking his back before standing up. “How about I get him back in?”

Franco shook his head quickly, "No" he whispered. He knew he had to tell Cujo how he felt and he wasn't ready, "I'm not ready Dare" he hurried. He looked at the cup and tried to lift his arm to reach it himself but the side effects of all the drugs were how weak his limbs felt, "More water please".

“Alright, I can stay longer.” Dare sat back down and gathered the cup, bringing it back over to Franco’s lips with the straw. “Seriously don’t worry about it, okay? I know it’s going to take you some time to get through this and that’s okay too. But I want you to stop focusing on where you think you failed.” He waited until Franco had his fill before putting the cup aside again. “I’m your leader, right? You’re not going anywhere. Whether or not you think you were cowardly, it’s my call on who gets to be a Serpent. You’re not going anywhere, my brother. You got me?”

Franco took the water gratefully and he nodded at Dare's words, "Yeah, it's gunna take a while. My injuries could take up to eight weeks too heal. I'm hoping to be out of here by the end of the week" he stated. He hated hospitals, "Who owned the casino?" he asked. The question was burning at him, he wanted answers, "Thanks Dare. I like being a serpent. It's the only family I have".

“That’s why you’re not gonna be going on any missions either. You’re going to stay with someone at all times. A Serpent. And you’re going to make sure you relax and take care of yourself.” Dare frowned a bit. “The Clarington family. And before you start getting your own revenge boner, Hunter is the one who figured out where you where and helped us save your life. Clarington Senior is the one responsible.”

Franco nodded, "I'm not ready for missons" he agreed. He sighed, "When I come home, I'm going to stay with Cujo. He said I could and I don't know. I think I'm in love with him Dare". The words escaped before he could stop them and he cursed himself for it. He raised an eyebrow though, "Claringtons? Hunter helped? Are they in jail?"

Dare hardly hesitated at the confession, flashing a light smirk. “I think you’re the last person to figure that out. Maybe second to last because I think Gigantor out there doesn’t realize it either. Maybe that’s something you two need to explore together, yeah?” He gestured to the applesauce left aside too. “You wanna try to eat a little? As far as the Clarington’s...nothing right now. You know how shitty this police force is. They didn’t even officially arrest Adrien Smythe after we found that recording.”

Franco's jaw dropped slightly, "You knew?" he asked hesitantly. How had everyone known before him, "Cujo doesn't know, of course he doesn't know. He'd probably never look at me again. Run a mile or something". Franco looked at the apple sauce and sighed, "I want to eat but I can wait till Cujo comes back, if you want?". The idea of needing help with the smallest things until the drugs wore off embarrassed him. He nodded, "I should have known the answer to that question. He'll get away with it won't he?"

“Of course I knew. The way you two blockheads are around each other? I’d have to be blind.” Dare chuckled. “And I doubt he’d run a mile. It’s not like you guys don’t already fuck. But I’ll let you sort that one out yourself. So, your secret’s safe with me.” He considered for a moment, silent in his thoughts. “After we found you the other day I...looked up your sister. Isabella, right? She’s cute.” He shrugged. “I told her you were hurt. She’d...liked to hear from you. Gave me her new cell phone number.”

Franco gave the tiniest laugh, "Cujo isn't a relationship kind of guy but I will tell him. No matter how much it hurts". He gulped and nodded, "Thank you. Our secret until I've said all that needs saying". Franco's eyes widened and he felt like he couldn't breathe, "Isabella" he breathed, "You... you got her to contact you? My Izzy" he asked, confusion and emotions lacing every word, "You have her number? Dare" and he started to cry again, "Keep it. Until I'm home. Please".

“Hey hey hey what did I say about getting worked up?” Dare demanded, though his tone didn’t raise, not wanting to escalate the situation. “Breathe. You’re gonna make it hard to breathe if you cry with those fucked up ribs.” He tried to soothe the situation as best as possible before Cujo fucking kicked down the door and threw him out. “Yeah. I got in touch. She...she’s worried about you. Wants to talk to you when you’re feeling up to it. After she heard you were in the hospital it opened her up a bit. Relax.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down when you contacted my sister who I tried to contact for years Darius” Franco said, though it was getting harder to breathe. “I don’t care about my ribs, you have. A number for my freaking sister. I’ve been dying to speak to her for 3 fucking years”. He tried to control his breathing, his hand searching for something to hold as he did, “Fuck Darius”

“I’m telling you to calm down because if you still wanna talk, you can’t have your lungs collapsing. And Cujo will actually throw me out of here if that happens. So breathe. C’mon, dude.” He sat up and gripped Franco’s struggling hand. “Try and take a slow, deep breath for me, or I’m gonna have to leave.”

Franco gripped Dares hand as hard as he could. It wasn’t hard at all but it made him feel something. He took deep breathes in and out, the pain in his ribs making him squeeze his eyes shut. He hated this. He hated being sick and he hated being injured. His lungs were already fucked from the broken ribs and Dare was right, he didn’t need to make it worse, “Dare, I can’t thank you enough for it” he started, “But I can’t have that number until I’m better. It will kill me hearing her voice like this”.

“You can thank me by getting better.” Dare reassured, holding the hand as tightly as he dared so he wouldn’t send Franco spiraling negatively downwards. “Slow down. Good.” He eyeballed the stupid monitors to make sure they didn’t go ballistic as Franco’s oxygen levels evened out. “I’ll hold onto it until you’re home, no worries there. She didn’t set a time stamp for how long you had. Just that she wants to talk to you too. We didn’t really chat. But...yeah. So now you have to get better.”

Franco nodded at Dare, feeling safe with his hand being held, “I’m gunna get better” he whispered, “I’m gunna get through this”. He paused as his breathing finally came back under his control. He opened his eyes and looked back at Dares face, “I want to come home” he spoke, knowing home was the place he’d be able to try and live again, “Can you get me home?”

“In a few days, I promise my man. But we gotta get you breathing better before we move you around. You were...very, very close to dying. That’s why we couldn’t just have Max or Alejandro looking you over. And you gotta try and accept some pain meds, or this healing process is gonna be a bitch. We might be able to get you pills instead of the injections, but it’s not like you can swallow much stuff. So...try and reconsider, okay? Then when you get home, I’ll get you the best weed we got.”

Franco nodded, “When I come home, can Max look after me medically? Ale made me take some tablets last night, some antibiotic thing but he scared me half to death”. He felt bad, Ale was only trying to help but he was terrified of the man after seeing the syringe. The words about dying rang in his head, maybe he’d used his extra life and he got really lucky, “How bad was it when you found me?” He asked. He hadn’t even seen himself in a mirror yet, he didn’t know how bad it all looked. He nodded and sighed, “Dare, I don’t know what drugs they gave me... but I think it was stronger then weed”.

“I’m sure I can work something out with her. I’ll hit her up on my way out and see if she can help with your care. It’s okay. Seriously.” He sighed, unable to comfort further than just holding Franco’s hand in a grip that just said I’ve got you. “It was bad. Enough that we only thought about bringing you here. That’s...all we can really say about it my man. Antibiotics are probably gonna be necessary with how many open wounds you had. Can’t have you keeling over from just an infection after you survived all this. And I say weed just to help you relax. But no ones gonna make you take anything.” He paused. “Besides the antibiotics.”

Franco tried to smile, “Max is nice. I’m not a big fan of Ale. But if you say it’s safe for me to take these things then I’ll take them”. He trusted Dare with his life, especially now. He listened to what a Dare said, “I’m gunna get Cujo to show me my reflection at some point. If it’s as bad as it feels, then I must look like shit”. He looked up at the door and smiled sadly, “He’s going to be going crazy out there”.

“Hey even at your worst? Better looking than me. I’m kinda pissed. How can this even be?” He glanced at the door too and patted Franco’s hand affectionately. “Let me get Cujo back in here, yeah? Maybe you can get some more sleep then too.”

Franco gave a half smile and nodded, “Well it’s not hard to be better looking then you” he tried to joke, but his voice still sounded numb. He nodded once again, “It’s easier to sleep when Cujo is here. I feel safe”.

“Then we’re gonna swap places. I’m gonna bounce and you,” He leaned over the guard rail to very lightly bop Franco’s nose. “Are going to relax and get better so we can get you discharged and home again. So if I hear that you’re still shitting on yourself or fighting getting better, I’ll be back to lecture you until your ears fall off. Got it?” He moved away from the bed and murmured to Cujo it was time to swap. He held the door open and gave Franco a half-wave. “You know how to reach me if you need me.”

Franco gave a little sigh of breath as Dare bopped him in the nose and he nodded, “I owe you Dare” he breathed, as Cujo came into the room. He wiggled his fingers to say goodbye and sighed, “He’s a good man” he said into the room.

#para #dare x franco #i wanna see you be brave

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