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pickleking8 · 2 years ago

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Adoption Isn’t All It’s Cracked Up To Be -- Chapter Two

This is chapter two to ‘that one fic idea I had’! I really enjoyed writing this one. It’s my first time writing a fic, and I’m having a lot of fun. This chapter is from Jazz’s POV. This is mostly just set up, the next chapter should be when the plot actually gets going.

Words: 1,085

Ao3 Link

First -- Next -- Masterpost

TW: blood, vivisection, neglectful/abusive parents

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Jasmine Fenton was panicking. She was definitely, surely, without a doubt panicking. Her breathing was quickened, she was close to crying, her hands were shaking, and her baby brother was bleeding out in the back seat of her scrappy old car. Danny, her sweet, kind, dead baby brother was bleeding Christmas colors in the back seat of her car. Yeah, she was panicking.

“It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay, I’ll protect you, I won’t let anyone hurt you again, okay, you’ll be safe - safe - okay?” She was only vaguely aware of whispering this, over and over again, throwing as many reassurances as she could at Danny, whose eyes were squeezed shut and whose breath was coming out ragged and hitched.

She needed to think. What was she going to do now? She needed a plan. Yes. A plan, that’s what she needed. Baby steps. She’s got this. Okay, first, where to go? What city has enough ectoplasm to both sustain Danny and hide his signature? In what city will no one notice, or care, if two teenagers show up and start living on their own? Gotham, of course. Dark, gloomy, and hidden. She could protect her brother there. Accelerating, she made several questionable driving choices and steeled herself for the long ride to Gotham that would surely be filled with worry and regret.

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Jazz heaved a deep sigh as Gotham’s signature skyline came into view. Grand gothic architecture with solemn gargoyles and sweeping rooftops. It was as beautiful as she was pretty sure it was cursed. Danny’s breathing in the backseat was slow and shallow. It was much slower than a normal human’s but fairly regular for Danny. His brow was furrowed in his sleep, a perpetual grimace of pain evident on his face. Jazz quickly turned her eyes back to the plastic-littered road, both to avoid crashing in the worsening traffic and to avoid the swell of emotion that rose looking at her baby brother. Her baby brother, whom she had sworn to protect, and whom she had failed so miserably. She shook her head, trying to dispel those thoughts before they overtook her. She failed at this too, the images of Danny sprawled out on a clinical metal table, his chest dominated by a gaping incision and the rest of his skin mottled with bruises, swam in front of her eyes like persistent flies. The way his blood reflected the fluorescent green light from those buzzing (so, so much buzzing. Everything seemed to buzz) light bulbs in the basement. She never wants to look at that shade of green again.

It’s too neon, she thinks, too bright, too green, too much of it in her brother’s blood that was not inside his body, where it really should be.

She’s in shock, she thinks. Yes, she’s in shock. She remembers the psychology books she’s read describing trauma response. She’s in shock. She has all the symptoms. This is bad, though. If she’s in shock then she can’t think straight and if she can’t think straight then she can't protect Danny! She needs to protect Danny. She needs to. Jazz swears, she won’t let anything bad happen to her brother ever again. Never, ever, ever, ever. He’ll be safe, she’ll make sure of it, she’ll protect him, she’ll do better, she’ll be everything he needs, and she will damn well rain destruction on anyone who tries to hurt her sweet, precious Danny who’s already been so broken by the world. She’ll do anything.

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Jazz pulls up to a hotel with a flickering neon sign (not neon, anything but neon, she can’t handle neon) and a door that squeals in protest when asked, even politely, to open. The clerk, a tired and raggedy looking young man, doesn’t question Jazz’s request for their most out of the way (and cheapest) room. Doesn’t question Jazz’s poor attempts to hide Danny and the alarming amount of blood he’s covered in. Doesn’t even question finding Jazz in the employee break room, holding their only first aid kit behind her back with a desperate look on her face. Simply raises an eyebrow and turns back around. Jazz is grateful.

Back in their foul-smelling room about half an hour later, Jazz ties off the bandages now cocooning Danny’s chest and finally allows herself to breathe a sigh of relief. It’s okay, they’re safe, Danny will be okay, she will be okay. She can figure this out. They can stay in this hotel for a couple of days, maybe a week, before she can find some cheap apartment to stay in. She can get a job. She… won’t be able to go to college. Get her degree in psychology, like she always dreamed. She can’t. She’ll need the money she saved up just to survive, to take care of Danny, and anyway, enrolling in university would let the Fentons know exactly where they were.

Only nineteen and your dreams are already in the toilet. Her thoughts continue to scream at her, and she smiles bitterly, but it’s really more of a grimace that makes her tired eyes seem even more hollow.

She shouldn’t be thinking like that. Danny’s hurt, Danny’s more important. She’ll figure it out. She’ll change her name. Talk it over with Danny first, see what he likes, but they’ll change their name. She certainly doesn’t want to be a Fenton anymore, and she doubts Danny does either. She can take online classes. Eventually. Yeah, she can do this. Running a hand through her carrot-orange hair, she sighs for what must have been the thousandth time that day.

It is only when she feels her tears dripping off her chin that she realizes she is crying. They start as silent tears dribbling down her face, and then morph into hiccups and little hitches in her breath and the tears begin to fall more steadily, and before she knows it she is doubled over heaving big, gut-wrenching sobs. She cries, for herself, for her broken dreams, for her broken life. She cries for Danny and how small he looks, curled up on a dirty, bare mattress. She cries for the bandages around his chest and for the pain they’ve both known. And she cries for a very long time. Eventually, the tears stop and her cheeks dry, and she is left sitting in the corner of a shitty hotel room, hair askew and head in her hands, deafened by the silence and quieted by the rasping breaths she and her brother draw.

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I would appreciate constructive criticism, thank you for reading!

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Next -- Masterpost

#Danny Phantom #jazz fenton #BatFam #Jason Todd #Red Hood #Batman #Tw blood #Tw vivisection #Tw experimentation #Yayyyy second chapter!#i'm proud of myself #please give me constructive criticism #dpxdc #dcxdp #dpxdc crossover

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fangirlwriting-stories · 2 years ago

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Late Night Waiting

Summary: No One Knows AU Part 5, After everyone has been waiting for a couple of nerve-wracking hours, Sam and Tucker finally show up at the police station.

...

Danny wishes he could feel better about having a night off from grounding. But at this point he’s been stuck in the police station for hours and Jazz hasn’t even managed to distract anyone for long enough that he can slip out and figure out what’s going on as Phantom, which would be much more efficient and more likely to solve the actual problem.

Instead, he’s answered the police’s questions about where he saw Sam and Tucker last (at school, like almost every other day since he’s gotten back), and spent the past three hours pacing back and forth in the room they’ve been given to wait in. Sam’s parents are talking quietly together in one corner, Tucker’s parents are sitting silently in the other, and his family is sitting in the middle, talking about which ghost most likely did this and how best to go after them.

The one time Danny had gone to the bathroom to try and slip away, his dad had insisted on coming with him and waiting outside the door. Something about waiting to make sure he’s safe while they don’t know what’s going on.

Give this much longer and Danny’s secret identity might slip down the ranks in priorities.

His brain can’t stop coming up with ways he could have prevented this. Sam and Tucker’s parents called at dinnertime, he should have done some kind of patrol before then. He should have insisted on spending the night with Sam and Tucker, grounding be damned. He should have run out to look for Sam and Tucker the second they called, who cared how worried his parents would be when they saw he was missing again too?

It doesn’t matter, because Sam and Tucker could be hurt. A ghost could have captured them, and he could be contacted any second with some kind of ransom, or threat, or worse. Fuck, worse. If Sam and Tucker don’t make it back he’ll never forgive himself—

“Danny,” Jazz says, cutting into his thoughts. “Come sit down.”

“No thanks I’m good,” Danny says in one breath, spinning around to walk to the other way.

“Danny.” Jazz reaches out and grabs his hand, then pulls him down onto the chair next to her. “Stop catastrophizing. It’s not your fault.”

“But— I could have—”

“Jazz is right, honey,” Mom says, reaching around Jazz to squeeze his hand with a smile. “There isn’t anything you could have done.”

“As much as I loathe to admit it,” Sam’s mother says with an irritated sigh, before her face surprisingly softens. “Your mother’s right. You don’t need to beat yourself up over this, Danny. You couldn’t have helped by doing anything differently.”

She wouldn’t be saying that if she knew, hisses the voice in Danny’s head.

Jazz catches his gaze and gives him a knowing look.

Danny shakes the voice away.

He leans heavily against Jazz’s side and pushes his hands over his face, and Jazz wraps her arms around him. “It’s gonna be okay,” she murmurs. She lowers her voice further. “Worst case scenario, you slip away when all the adults fall asleep and I cover for you.”

Danny nods weakly, then sits back and tries to breathe.

Thankfully, it doesn’t come to that. Because after about four hours of sitting there, when his dad has just fallen asleep across several chairs and Danny is debating trying the bathroom again, the door opens and a police officer pokes appears in the entrance.

“They’re here,” he says, and Danny is rushing for the door before he can get any other words out.

Sam and Tucker are both talking to an officer across the main room of the precinct, and both of them have barely turned and spotted him when Danny reaches them and throws his arms around their shoulders.

“Oh my god holy fuck are you okay,” he says, squeezing them tightly before pulling back and looking them over for injuries. He doesn’t see anything life threatening or anything that looks too badly injured thank god, but he pats them down anyway, gently but firmly, checking for any strange lumps or obvious breaks.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, I— are you okay are you hurt where does it hurt I don’t know why I’m asking that I can’t actually do anything I’m not a doctor, I— are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay,” he says, looking desperately back up at their faces. He finds them both staring at him, at an obvious loss of what to say.

“Young man,” a police officer says before any of them can say anything else. He reaches out and pulls Danny back, away from Sam and Tucker. “Please step back. I understand this is difficult for everyone but we all need to remain calm.”

“Samantha!” comes her mother’s voice, and all of them turn just in time to see her mother rush past the officer to Sam and start doing the exact same injury pat-down that Danny did.

Sam groans in obvious irritation and takes a step back.

“We’re fine,” she says, glaring at her mom. “Honestly. We’re not hurt.”

“Oh thank heavens,” her mother says, pulling Sam back in for a hug, and causing another annoyed groan from Sam.

Danny lets out a sigh, looking down in relief. Now that it’s clear that Sam and Tucker are at least mostly okay, most of the nerves that have been building up around his shoulders relax, and suddenly he just feels exhausted.

He feels a hand on his shoulder, and turns to see Jazz giving him a reassuring smile, which he returns, albeit shakily.

The police finally managed to get everyone to stand back from Sam and Tucker, at least enough that they could continue asking them what happened.

Unfortunately, they’re still close enough to hear everything, meaning Danny’s close enough to hear Sam say, “We got captured by a ghost,” and all of his nerves leap back into his shoulders.

“He didn’t hurt us,” Sam says, waving off the officer’s next question. “Seemed like he just wanted to scare us. He actually got distracted pretty easily, and that’s how we managed to slip away.”

Okay, so probably someone harmless like The Box Ghost if they got away that easily. They probably weren’t in any real danger in a way that Danny was actually 100% necessary to be there for.

…That does not help.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Danny asks, drawing both of their gazes. They look wary, probably because everyone here is still more than a little on edge. “Ghosts are no joke.”

“You got that right,” Dad says from over his shoulder. “You both are going to have to come back with us tonight to get a full check over from the professionals.”

“No,” Sam says quickly, at the same time her mom says “Absolutely not.”

Probably a smart move, honestly. His parents tended to look for the wrong things, and a lot of their tests tended to be painful in some way. Danny can keep an eye on Sam and Tucker for the next couple days, while trying to not let the guilt eat him alive.

“I’m in agreement there,” Tucker’s mom says, stepping forward. “You two both sound like you’ve had a very long night, you need to go home and get some rest.”

“Absolutely a good idea,” Jazz says, trying to send a knowing look at their parents (of which only time would tell how successful it was). “Sleep is important after an upsetting experience, especially if it’s past midnight.”

“Jazz has a point, honey,” Mom says, putting a reassuring hand on Dad’s shoulder. “Just come by in the next couple days, you two. We’ll make sure nothing’s wrong.”

Danny sighs, dropping his head into his hands. That’s still not going to be helpful, but that’s probably the best they’re going to get from his parents that night.

“Uh, we’ll see,” Sam says, in a tone that means ‘I doubt it,’ and Danny can’t blame her. She turns to her parents. “Can we just go home now?”

“We still have questions,” one of the nearby officers says.

“We already told you everything, and I want to go home and sleep,” Sam says. “It’s been a very long day.”

The officer sighs. “Alright, but we might come find you with follow up questions in the next couple of days.”

“Fine,” Sam snaps, and she grabs her mom’s arm and starts tugging her towards the door. Sam’s dad follows shortly after.

Danny can’t help but laugh a little bit. Sam being just as annoyed with authority as usual is probably a good sign.

“Yeah, I want to go home too,” Tucker says quietly, and starts for the door without any fanfare. Before he leaves, however, he stops in front of Danny. He doesn’t look at him though, instead watching Sam.

Danny turns to watch her too, wondering what Tucker sees. But as soon as Sam walks out the front door and steps out of sight, Tucker turns and wraps his arms around Danny.

Danny gives a sound of surprise, muffled by Tucker’s cheek smushing against his face.

Tucker pulls back a second later. “Sorry,” he mumbles, looking down. “I just… I had to do that.”

Danny just gives him a warm smile in return. “Hey, if you want to talk about it, you can tell me anything,” he says quietly, with what’s hopefully the right level of a joking tone.

Tucker smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. It barely reaches his mouth.

Danny doesn’t push, since that’s a bad idea especially now, and a couple seconds later, Tucker turns back to his parents and nods to the door, and all three of them walk out.

“Alright,” Jazz says, drawing Danny and his parents’ attention. “We should go home too.”

“I agree,” Mom says, as the four of them all start moving towards the door. “It’s been a very long night, and you both still have school in the morning.”

“What?” Danny asks. “Don’t we get to stay home? These are extenuating circumstances and all that!”

“Sam and Tucker are the ones who got captured by ghosts, not you two,” Mom says, raising an eyebrow. “And you can’t afford to miss any more class, Danny.”

Danny grumbles something incomprehensible under his breath, though he’s thinking about how he didn’t get time off when he was kidnapped. It doesn’t matter that it’s entirely his fault for using running away as a cover story, the universe is still being unfair. Especially considering he’s exhausted enough that he feels himself falling asleep on the car ride back.

When he gets home, however, he shakes himself awake, and after telling his parents goodnight, he heads up to his room and transforms.

He opens the window and is about to fly out when the door opens behind him, and he spins around, heart leaping into his throat.

Thankfully, Jazz is the one who stands in the doorway.

“And what exactly makes you think that’s a good idea?” she asks, shutting the door behind her.

Danny lets out a breath of relief and slumps back against the wall. “Don’t do that, Jazz, you’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

“Danny,” Jazz says, crossing her arms. “Patrolling isn’t a good idea right now.”

“Why not? Clearly I should have been patrolling earlier.”

“Well, because you need to sleep for one, and for two, I don’t want you going out there stewing in your own head and making yourself feel even worse.”

Danny looks away, trying to disguise it as a glare. “Sam and Tucker—”

“Are fine. They’re not even a little hurt, and got away themselves without any needed help. You, on the other hand, need rest. Mom already said you’re still going to school tomorrow.”

Danny forces himself to look back at Jazz. “I’m not gonna be able to sleep until I know everyone is safe, Jazz.”

“Everyone is safe, Danny. Your ghost sense would go off or there’d be some kind of news alert if there was something you needed to take care of. And if the news alert was happening Mom and Dad would wake up the whole house rushing off to help with it.”

Danny looks down. She has a point. And he can practically feel himself falling asleep standing here.

“Go to sleep, Danny. There’s nothing else you can do tonight. If tomorrow Sam and Tucker are at school you can talk to them and see if there’s ways you can help, and I’ll help you out there too. But tonight the most helpful thing you can do is get some sleep.”

Danny sighs, and glares more lightheartedly up at Jazz. “I hate it when you’re right,” he says, prefaced with sticking out his tongue.

“You’re gonna hate most of the things I say, then,” Jazz says with a smug smile.

Danny rolls his eyes and shuts the window. He turns back into Danny Fenton and moves over to his dresser to pull some pajamas out, then casts a glance back at Jazz. “Alright, now get out. Neither of us want you here for this part.”

It’s Jazz’s turn to roll her eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” she says, turning to leave. “But hey, I’m really proud of you, you know.”

Danny scoffs despite himself. “I didn’t even do anything tonight.”

“I’m proud of how much you care, you dork,” Jazz says, crossing her arms with a fond smile. “It’s obvious how much Sam and Tucker mean to you, that’s all. And I’m proud of how much you do for them, and everyone.”

“Uh, whatever,” Danny says, looking away and crossing his arms. “You don’t have to get all sappy about it.”

“You can’t stop me from getting all sappy about it,” Jazz says, sounding smug again, and she leaves and shuts the door before Danny can say anything else.

Danny sighs, but he has a slight smile on his face as he changes into pajamas and climbs into bed.

And it’s honestly annoying the level of right that Jazz is, because he falls asleep almost immediately.

#danny fenton #jazz fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #pamela manson #jeremy manson #jack fenton #maddie fenton #angela foley #maurice foley #i didn't even know those two's names #the no one knows au tag doesn't really apply for this series anymore #so i'm gonna start calling it #everyone knows au #because that's the problem #okay? okay #my fic

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merv606 · 1 year ago

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“I do need someone recommending that Daniel offer up his 🍑 to Terry. It’s the only way to truly save the soul of the valley lol”

I kinda have a NHE/dark-ish version of this plot in mind in which Amanda doesn’t leave Daniel but tells him to give up Miyagi-Do for good and get Cobra Kai out of their lives or she’s divorcing him.

When he tells Silver he wins, he’s walking away and he can have the Valley, he tells him “they’re way past waving the white flag.”

However — he’s willing to shut down CK for good. He can have his precious Miyagi-Do, and he’ll give Johnny Lawrence full control and ownership over CK… if Daniel sleeps with him.

Horrified Daniel tells him he’s crazy and rejects his offer, but Terry tells him he’ll “let him sleep on it… no pun intended.”

When he tells Amanda Silver’s demands, she coldly tells him to do it — this is his fault, he made this mess and he’ll do whatever he has to do to end this and keep their kids safe.

Stunned, and beyond hurt, he accepts Terry’s offer. Terry keeps his promise and hands CK over to Johnny Lawrence. All Miyagi-Do students are safe and off-limits.

Afterwards Daniel slaps a shocked Amanda with divorce papers. He can’t even look at her after what she did. To his shock, the kids support him (Samantha overheard their conversation, and neither will tell him they know what Amanda wanted him to do.)

Should he end up back in Terry’s bed is anyone’s guess…

This is kind of similar to the idea that - when his business was in danger, instead of the girl he saved helping him out, we find out that Silver owns the company and he is more than willing to help his Danny-boy - for a price.

Given Daniel’s self sacrificing nature he’s “willing” but he doesn’t want to cheat but Amanda agrees and gives him the go ahead.

The business means so much to them after all.

Daniel is a thirty year itch that Terry intends to scratch.

And Daniel, who convinced himself that he no longer had feelings for Terry - he was Daniel’s bi awakening we’ll say - is proven to be so very wrong on that. Everything he had buried comes roaring back to life.

In this story, I like the idea that Terry is gentle and a great lover - some of the best sex Daniel has had.

Which surprises Daniel to absolutely no end.

It would throw him for a loop - he would expect violence, pain (what he associates with Terry), and maybe humiliation/degradation.

That he could rally against - mount a defence against.

But gentle touches and loving words - Terry worshiping him - that he doesn’t know what to do with.

I am, above all, a sucker for a happy ending / even if the happy comes from you convincing yourself you are.

Finding it within the confines of an inevitable situation.

#ask #I got an ask 🤩#cobra kai #daniel larusso #karate kid #terry silver #silverusso #silverrusso #mercy is a sharp knife

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oldblackhat · 2 years ago

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It’d be really funny if they offered a Young Justice spot to Phantom and he’s like I’m too busy but here’s my little sister!

And then Ellie’s like “yeah my brothers too busy between court responsibilities, being local hero in his mom’s town, and going to school in his human identity he just doesn’t really have time to be on a permanent team but like he can be called in for big stuff and we can try to get dad for really major stuff…but me Im the spare I got loadsa free time cause my presence is almost always optional”

And Danny protests “you’re not a spare”

“What I’m sooo important to ghost politics”

“…You’re important to me”

“It’s fine you know I hate politics” turns back to the JL “it works out really I like my freedom, to travel and fight, but ghost politics are a big snooze so its all good that I’m only rarely required to attend. Poor D really he’s the one who has it rough - often called into meetings and stuff being oldest and all”

And Danny and Ellie just keeping up this ruse and dynamic of the Heir and the Spare for kicks.

(Of course whats funny is there keeping up this ruse but really besides Danny being King not Heir it’s bot a lie - he really is required more for court stuff then Ellie being King Prince and all)

And Ellie throws in privately some to Young Justice or Leaguers comments about how Danny doesn’t really like politics much either but what can you do he’s oldest he has responsibilities and expectations, about how he had to call in sick to school to attend some ghost meeting and that cant be great for his GPA. And when someone questions why the court’s fine with hurting his GPA “oh well a lot of ghosts *cough*Observants*cough* don’t really understand why he’s insisting on getting a human school diploma its not like he’ll need it to hold a ghost position, you know his future after school is kinda set good thing to because between heroing Amity Park and court responsibilities his GPA is abysmal so how likely is his getting into human college anyway.

Maybe Danny also lets off some steam about this to Young Justice at some point and Red Robin mentions it to Batman

Maybe a reference to his responsibilities increasing once he graduates and on an unrelated note I’d love to get an astrophysics masters GPA permitting. And they also here how excited he gets talking about space (he just lights up! So animated! His freckles almost seem to shine too!) compared to when he talks about ghost politics meetings he’s attended lately. If anyone asks if he likes those meetings he’s like “i’m oldest (shrug) what can you do”

And word gets back to Superman (if he’s not already in the room) and he offers to tutor him more often because damn it he ought to be able to do school (including college) if he wants royal or not! A person - even those with predetermined careers - ought to have some control over there loves and get to do some things just for them. Phantom’s getting that astrophysics masters!

And maybe Batman or Superman mention to the Ghost King next time they see him that his kid ought to have some weight taken off of him and allowed to be a kid a little more - there’s plenty of time later for more responsibilities and the King just sighs like “I know I’ll try” or “its not really me the advisors push for his presence I’ll try again to reign it in” or “I was unaware just how much pressure he’s feeling thank you” (internally Danny just scrambling to seem adultish)

And later maybe Danny makes some off hand ticked off teenage comment about ratting out his little complaints to his dad and to kindly keep out of this you don’t know our dynamic please

Oh! Also at least once when things are really getting hairy Phantom slips out and the Ghost King comes back and later Danny or Ellie explain that protocol/tradition dictates a member of the royal family is always on call in the realms and since Danny’s oldest when the Kings in Earth then Danny probably has to go be Prince in the Realms. At least one joke about tag teaming is made at some point

Wow this got a lot longer than I expected lmao

Just fake court dynamics to me with people - but really the realities not that different so they also get to vent some fr

Short DPXDC Prompts #837

Danny was just relaxing doing his homework on the moon. (It was quiet and had minimal distractions. Perfect for studying). He didn’t expect to see anyone during his studying but after seeing movement out of the corner of his eye he went to check it out. To his surprise: Superman was just sitting on the moon looking down at earth. Chilling.

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five-rivers · 3 years ago

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Life's Great Lie 7

It was early in the morning when she got the call. Sixish. The other numbers on the clock didn’t register to her.

“Hey,” said Tucker, “guess what government agency I just hacked.”

Sam sat up, all traces of sleep gone. Her hand curled around the wing of the nearest stuffed bat. “You found him?”

“Sort of.�� Ever hear of SHIELD?”

“No,” said Sam. “Is it part of the GIW?” Ever since the Fentons came back without Danny and locked themselves in Fentonworks, that had been her biggest fear.

“I found them through the GIW, but they seem to be partitioned pretty well, along with something called HYDRA…”

“What, like World War Two HYDRA?”

“You know them?”

“They were one of Hitler’s science divisions,” said Sam. “They… My great-grandparents were rescued from one of their camps by Captain America.”

Tucker paused. “Funny you should mention Captain America,” he said, the words almost tumbling over each other. “Because apparently, he works for SHIELD. Or with SHIELD? It’s a little unclear, actually. I’m not sure he’s getting paid.”

“Focus, Tucker,” said Sam. “How is Danny involved?”

“He’s been mind controlled by an evil clown.”

“What? Freakshow?”

“No, this one’s green and Norse god themed. Loki. Has a scepter, too, though, which is a weird coincidence. And he’s from space.”

“An evil green clown from outer space is mind controlling Danny?” That was… an eclectic bundle of traits, even for them. Like someone had thrown darts at a board of character concepts. Or took Freakshow, swapped his palette and made him an alien.

At least it wasn’t the GIW.

“And making him fight Iron Man and Captain America in… Germany. Stuttgart, Germany. Oh, this is live.”

“You have eyes on him?” She swung her feet over the side of her bed and reached for her laptop.

“Electronic ones, but yeah. Gotta love the body cam trend. I’m sending you the footage on a secure link, but I’ll have to delete it, after. I don’t want to show up if they investiga—”

Sam, having just clicked on the link, swore. “He’s human, Tucker.”

“Yep, I know.”

“He’s fighting them as a human. That means they know who he is.”

“Yeah.”

Clearly, the problem with that wasn’t clicking for him. “That means they know who we are.”

“Crap,” said Tucker. “Plan?”

“Not much we can do to help Danny, but… He didn’t hurt anyone in that fight. Not seriously.”

“I think Captain America cleared thirty feet on that throw, so…”

“Captain America’s abilities are well documented. He’ll live. I think Danny is fighting this, or at least working around it. We can’t trust SHIELD if they’re associated with the GIW and HYDRA, even a little bit, so… We need to find out where they keep prisoners, in case they catch Danny, and figure out how to stay away from them. They’re going to come looking for us eventually.”

There was a tapping sound from the other side of the line. “Ghost weapons will only get us so far.”

“Yeah,” agreed Sam. “Secret government agency versus two teens armed with weapons that only hurt dead people. Three, if Jazz gets back soon. Not much math there.”

“Objection. The Fenton Anti-Creep Stick can hurt a wide variety of people.”

“It’s just a baseball bat with the name Fenton painted on it in phase-proof paint. Not much good against bullets.” She knelt on the floor and reached under her bed. After a moment of groping, she pulled out a thermos. “I have an idea, but I don’t think you’ll like it.”

“Is it some variation of sneak over to Germany and hit Danny with the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick until he snaps out of it?”

“We don’t even know if that will work,” said Sam. “It didn’t with Freakshow.”

“We couldn’t even hit him when he was with Freakshow.”

“You think that’s changed? No. Even if he can’t go ghost for some reason, he actually knows how to dodge now. I was thinking about a trip to the museum.”

“You’re right, I don’t like it.”

“It’s the best weapon we have access to, and I trust you.”

“I don’t trust me. Besides, do you really think that a second mind control scepter is the thing we need right now?”

“We need something.”

Tucker sighed. “How are we even going to get it? It’s in a museum.”

“I haven’t been able to empty the thermos since Danny’s parents came back. It’s almost full.”

“Oh, no,” said Tucker.

Releasing the Box Ghost (among other sundry minor animal and blob ghosts) into the museum caused a predictable amount of chaos, especially when the staff sprinted into back rooms and downstairs to protect the archives. They still used boxes and crates for that, here. Rookie move.

“Come on,” said Sam, making sure her hoodie was on and her blaster was primed. Tucker, with his PDA and ‘ghost noise’ generator, followed behind. With all their precautions, they’d hopefully wouldn’t be identifiable on the security cameras.

Duulaman’s Scarab Scepter sat in the display case in front of them. She raised her blaster and fired. The glass broke.

“Are you sure about this?” asked Tucker, hand hovering in front of him.

“Yeah, but we can try something else if you’re really worried about it. You stopped yourself last time. You controlled it.”

“Yeah,” said Tucker. He swallowed. “Okay. I’ve got this.”

He picked up the staff, and the museum dissolved in a whirl of sand. They were standing on top of a dune, pyramids in the distance. Tucker’s fingers looked bloodless from the stress of his grip.

“Tucker,” said Sam, cautiously.

“It’s okay,” said Tucker. “I can do this. Just. Give me a second.”

The sand swirled again, and they were in Tucker’s bedroom. He dropped the staff with a gasp. A fine layer of sand drifted to the floor.

“That was,” he said, “something. I could.” He covered his mouth with one hand. “I could take us to Germany,” he said, voice harsher than usual.

“We don’t know if Danny is still there,” said Sam.

“R- Right,” said Tucker. “I need to—I need to sit down.”

Mrs. Foley’s voice rose from downstairs. “What agency did you say you worked with again, Mr. Coulson?”

#danny phantom #op!danny x marvel #dp/marvel crossover #dannymay

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dp-marvel94 · 4 years ago

Text

Asking for Death

Note: So forever ago, @ectoblood and I had a conversation about a clone asking Danny to kill him and discussed, if a Danny clone would feel imperfect because he doesn’t share the same interests and dreams as his original? I actually expanded a little on those ideas from these two posts so have a ficlet.

Also on AO3 and Fanfiction.net

Daniel knows he was imperfect. It’s obvious; Father made that abundantly clear. The boy knows he was cloned from someone named Danny. And the older half ghost made it clear; he looked just like Danny and had all his powers. But that wasn’t enough. Father wants a better version of this Danny, someone who is a loving and obedient son but also with the personality and interests of the original. Perfect son, Father says, holding up this idealized version of the clone. He is to be the perfect son.

Father notices the difference and the man does not like it. He’s deeply dissatisfied because how dare his ‘perfect son’ not meet all of his expectations. His ideals t hat no one, not a clone or even the original Danny, could ever meet.

Father tries to force him in that direction. Daniel is a clone so of course, he likes space and video games and horror movies like his original. Daniel wants to be a good son, a perfect son. He really does. And he tries. He tries everything that Father offers him. And Daniel finds he likes some things that Danny does and doesn’t like other things. The clone also finds he has some of his own interests and dreams. He would rather watch birds in the garden than the stars. He’s rather draw than play video games. And horror movies...they scar him. He’d rather watch musicals.

Soon he’s always yelling at Daniel for some reason.

“Say yes sir, when you address me!”

“I… yes, Father. Sir.”

“I told you to clean the kitchen an hour ago. Why is it not done?!”

“I...I apologize, sir. I’ll...I’ll do that right now.”

“You call that an ecto energy attack? Pathetic!”

“Allow...allow me to try again. I will do better, please.”

He’s not obedient enough or powerful enough. He’s ungrateful, too quiet, too timid.

“Why do you never use the telescope I bought you?!”

“I...I have been busy with my studies. But...Tonight. Father, sir.”

Daniel never geeks out about space. The clone actually likes reading and birdwatching and hiking. He’s quieter and more thoughtful than his original.

All this burns in Vlad’s mind, his anger rising. How dare his perfect son behave like this? He was to be a perfect copy, in body and mind, yet perfectly loyal to his maker.

And for Daniel, all he wants is to make his Father happy. Maybe Father will be happy with him if he acts more like the person that Father wants him to be. So he tries to make himself like the things that Danny does and pretends to enjoy Danny’s interests. But he’s miserable, because space and horror movies don’t make him happy like reading in the garden and watching the birds does. He tries to be more outgoing and outspoken but that’s just not him. And Vlad can see that the clone is just putting on an act, trying to be more like Danny but failing (because he’s not Danny!).

So Vlad gets increasingly angry and dissatisfied because his ‘perfect’ son isn’t perfect. Vlad yells at him because he’s wrong, broken, a mistake, imperfect.

“Why should I even bother to keep a mistake like you around?”

“I… Father. Please. I’ll do better.”

“Be silent.”

“Father?”

“Never call me that again! Nothing as broken and imperfect as you deserves the privilege of calling me that. I am your Master, boy.”

“But-”

“I AM YOUR MASTER.”

“Yes… yes sir, Master.”

And Daniel believes him because Vlad is his Father, no, his Master and his Master has to be correct. If he was just more like Danny, then the man would love him. But he can’t be more like Danny. He’s not Danny and he’ll never be, no matter how hard he tries.

Vlad gave up on him, in his insanity thinking he just needs to try again. But he keeps the clone because he could be useful. Daniel isn’t Vlad’s son. He is tool. The man stops even trying to show him affection, increasingly having him run dangerous errands and be a lab rat for the older halfa. Vlad throws himself into making the next clone

“This one will work. It has too.”

“F- Master. Please, I’m hungry. Maybe I have some...some food.”

And the clone increasingly spirals into hopelessness and depression.

“Stop crying. You’re negatively affecting the data.”

“F...father. Please. St...stop.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

A cry of pain as Vlad digs the knife in deeper.

“Oh please. It barely even hurts.”

Weakened from hunger, thirst, and injury, Daniel escapes one day when Master is away. He...he is a failure. He...he is weak, he is horrid for begging Master to stop, for leaving now. But...he can’t...he can’t do this anymore. There is...there is only one way for the pain to end.

He arrives at a familiar building, one he’s seen through Master’s cameras. He rings the door bell and the front door opens to a familiar boy.

“Please. Please kill me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny refuses, of course. So Daniel tries to force his hand, attacking him. But Danny still refuses to hurt him, only defending himself so he can capture the other boy. Danny manages to get him in a thermos and soon after releases him in the ghost containment unit in the basement. He hates doing it but needs to talk to the other boy where the clone can’t hurt himself or anyone else. Danny manages to get some information from the near inconsolable boy.

“He keeps… he keeps hurting me.”

‘Who?”

“M...master.”

Eyes wide. “Vlad! Of course. Of course he cloned me again.”

Despite being stable and trying to be a good son, the clone’s still not what Vlad wants. He’s tried so hard to be what the older half-ghost wants but the man is still obsessed with having the ‘perfect’ son. And feeling like a failure and that his life is worthless, the clone wants to die and hopes that his original would have mercy enough to take him out of his misery.

After the speech, Danny is heartbroken watching the other boy weep. He feels helpless, not knowing what to do. He joins the other boy inside the unit, trying to comfort him. The clone still begs Danny to end him but the other halfa refuses.

“Why won’t you just do it?!”

“I will not hurt you. I don’t care how much you beg me or if you attack me again, I. will. not. hurt. you.”

“Please. I’m no one. I’m worthless. I can’t do this.”

“You’re not worthless. I promise. You’re not.”

“But I am. I AM.”

Danny grabs the other boy’s face. “Look at me. You are not worthless. You aren’t no one.”

“But-”

Danny cuts him off. “You’re family.” The clone’s mouth snaps. “I don’t care that we just met, or that you tried to hurt me. I made up my mind. You’re my family, no matter what. And I am going to find a way to help you. Vlad will never hurt you again.”

The other boy looks dumbstruck but Danny can tell he was listening. Just after Danny let go of his face, the clone fell forward, collapsing in Danny’s arms. He still wept but Danny thinks this clone did hear him. And he meant what he said. The boy he was hugging was family and Danny would always do everything in his power to help his family. Even if he wasn’t sure how to right now.

#Danny Phantom #my fic #Danny Clone #Danny Clones

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blueberrypossum · 4 years ago

Note

Oh! Sorry! I just thought you did write imagines...but I will tell you my idea...I was wondering how the mud dogs would feel having a kindhearted girl in the group that is a nurse and and each of them (separately) have a crush on her? (can this be a headcannon?) but it’s ok if you don’t do it. I also like your blog and your drawings of ocs! They’re very cute!

Rottmnt Mud Dogz! Headcanons!

If you were the kindhearted nurse of the team and if the Mud Dogz started to develop feelings for you!

( I decided to do this gender-neutral so everyone can get their love from the Mud Dogz! Hope that’s okay!)

Also, anyone can make requests or asks! The reason I don’t really have it placed in my blog is because there are some requests where I just stare and I’m like: I don’t have enough creativity to come up with anything oh heck I don’t want to let someone down. So, don’t be afraid to send anything!

Hope you guys enjoy it!

Loathsome Leonard

-He didn’t pay no mind to you at first, his group was okay with you joining in seeing that they were going to hurt on most heists so he respects you.

-It takes a long and hard time to get close to Leonard, he’s the leader after all, and he doesn’t want to continue adding people to his group and then see them either leave, die, or backstab them.

-Of course, he isn’t rude to you, he just doesn’t talk much about plans and heists when you’re around at first and there is barely any small talk between the two of you in the beginning.

-Until one night he goes off on his own without the other guys knowing and stumbles back terribly wounded and can’t make it back to their apartment, but your place is closer.

-You were asleep when you heard the strangled yet urgent knock on your door and you quickened your pace when it started to repeat in more rapid strings.

-You can’t help but gasp at the sight of Leonard, beaten and bloody as if he had just starred in a horror movie and you rush him in, setting him in the chair in your kitchen before gathering your medical supplies you had in your home.

- In silence you help him take off his shirt and put yourself to work, cleaning and dressing his cuts and gashes, all while handing him water to drink and a towel to play with when the pain gets unbearable.

“Where are Danny and Mickey? Are they wounded as well?”

“No, it’s only me.”

“Did you...did you go out on your own Leonard?”

“...”

-Your once nice outlook is now casted with anger as you stand and throw the damp cloth you had used to clean his shoulder wound into the trash with such force that it almost startled him.

Almost.

“You know, for someone who works so hard to make sure his teammates don’t do stupid stunts, you suck at taking your own advice.”

-That causes a surge to burst through him; he had never heard you speak like that before, never spoken your mind with such raw rage. And when he goes to fire something back, your hand is under his chin and shushing him, taking a new wet rag and cleaning a cut that sliced down his cheek.

-”Next time, just tell them, and me. Trust has to go both ways, and since I trust you -” You tilt his head until he is looking up at you, the first prickle of tension bubbling his skin.

“You should trust me.”

-And oh he’s hooked now and nothing can smother it.

-He’s sudden embarrassed and possibly even scared to be around you alone, afraid that his words will slip up or he'll do something stupid in front of you.

-You’re just so smart and kind, but that more dominant and stronger side of you has caused his heart to beat faster when you enter the room and he despises it. He can’t let his emotions get caught up in the missions and...you deserved better, someone who just wasn’t a lowlife thief.

-But, he’s warmer around you, and will actually create a conversation with you about yourself and how you are doing instead of just talking about the next heist.

Dastardly Danny

-For once, the rat yokai doesn’t have to play doctor in the group once you join the band of thieves. It’s a great change of pace because for one he never went to medical school and only learned to clean wounds just by experience.

-He would be super intrigued by your understanding of the yokai and/or human body and how to treat and dress each different type of wound. He would probably ask to be placed under your wing in case you were injured or couldn’t make it in time (also to spend time with you).

-He’s a huge talker with you and would possibly be the one in the group who would fully understand the scientific words you spit out sometimes.

-Danny knows and understands his feelings pretty well, and once he realizes he has developed an infatuation with you, he falls head first into it.

-He’ll go to you and make the cheesiest and gooiest jokes that play in with you and your job profession and boy does it make Leonard and Mickey gag.

“I don’t think you can diagnose me because there’s no treatment for being madly in love, dollface.”

“Danny, sit still, you keep reopening the cut!”

-Instead of getting you flowers and chocolates, he understands the expense of medical supplies and you come by to find new needles, clean cloths, and antibiotics all wrapped up and presented nicely with your name on it.

-After hours of sewing cuts and bending arms back into their sockets, Danny would still crawl over to the kitchen and make you your favorite drink, even if he broke both his legs.

-Of course, he loves to make you a flustered and stuttering mess, especially during dire moments such as him with a bullet wound and you’re desperately trying to seal the blistering hole. He’ll look right at you and horsley state, “Bleeding out like this doesn’t seem too bad if you keep touching me like dat’.”

-Would def. Give you the nickname doc, nothing will change that.

Malicious Mickey

-Honestly, you can impress this sweet guy with anything, from knowing what ointment to apply on certain cuts and then easily telling him facts about his internal organs, you make the guy have that astounded look of a child.

-He probably wouldn’t understand a single word if you explained to him how the body works or why certain medicines only work for certain illnesses and infections, but he will certainly show his wonderment in the information.

-He would probably start falling for you since you are kind, you place care in his wounds. Not saying Danny didn’t, but you placed colorful stickers on his cuts and then started to bring pieces of candy only for him (for a second, he believed you only saw him as a brother and it worried him).

-Mickey would be the only one in the group to remember the most random facts you have told that shocks everyone, even you. It shows that he listens, just doesn’t understand.

-He would try to make jokes like Danny does when he’s wounded but he’s just so baffled at how fast and calm you work on him that he will just state how pretty you are or how your nose will ruffle up when you’re concentrating on something.

-Will probably come and visit you at your workplace and you will have to hide him because he’s a literal criminal like jeez Mickey someone can recognize you.

-When hanging out, he’ll ask certain questions about his specific internal workings and then about Leonard and Danny, and then what were your favorite things to learn from medical school. It feels great for someone to be interested in what you know, and even though you will go into a huge rank about certain things and he just stares at you, you know that he cares.

-The poor sweet boy would die inside once you two started to date because you got to kiss his bruises and smaller cuts before continuing on to the bigger wounds and he would play with your hair and curl around you after a hard day at work.

#rottmnt #rottmnt mud dogs #tmnt #rottmnt dastardly danny #rottmnt mud dogz #rottmnt loathsome leonard #rottmnt mud dogz x reader #rottmnt malicious mickey

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janekfan · 5 years ago

Text

Too Much

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26972698

When Jon stalked back into the archives the fierce conviction in his face belied his ragged appearance. Tim wasn’t stupid. He’d known there was something shady happening in this place probably before Jon did, considering. It didn’t stop him from purposefully hardening his heart against his pallid skin and bloody throat, his poorly bandaged hand, his filthy, mud-covered clothes.

“Jon?” Martin’s voice was soft and it set off a trembling in him that Tim could see from across the room. “Hey--” Without warning, Jon bent double over the nearest wastebasket, going down hard on his knees as he emptied his stomach painfully, shaking so hard the bin rattled. “Oh, oh, Jon.” Hands fluttering over his back, Martin hovered close, unsure of what to do, before settling next to him on the floor to hold his hair back, plaiting it loosely to keep it out of the way.

“Nngh...s’sorry.” Jon collapsed the rest of the way, resting his weight over the bin, his forehead on the arm slung across the top. “I, I...clean. Clean it up.” Shuddering, voice thick and wavering on a heavy breath. “God, I. I’m so, so sorry.” Another bout of dry heaving cleaved through him, Martin’s hushed reassurances making the ire in Tim rise to vitriolic levels and if he stayed any longer in this room he knew he’d do something to upset Martin. Physical violence had never been the way he preferred to resolve disputes but the confirmation of being trapped here. Trapped by Jon made him desperately want to lash out. Scream. Kick. Throw a tantrum and that wouldn’t do, even if the anger and dissolution flooding into every empty space left behind by the deaths of Danny and Sasha and his freedom begged him to take it out on the one thing left that represented it all.

“Tim, where are you going?” Martin’s attention was still focused primarily on the man panting under his palms, but he spared him a glance.

“Can’t be here for a while.” He flashed a bitter smile. “Guess I’ll be back, won’t I?” He was suffocating and if he stayed here one second longer he’d explode and Martin didn’t deserve that.

Martin had his hands full of a sick and shivering Jon so had no choice but to let Tim go. It was probably best at the moment. He’d been sniping at Jon even before he’d disappeared and the fury flashing behind his eyes wouldn’t help anyone right now. And besides, Jon was going to pass out any minute by the look of it.

“Jon?” His head jerked up and he swayed where he kneeled.

“Sorry, s’sorry…” the slurred apologies certainly weren’t a good sign. “‘L’get this cleaned up.” When he moved clumsily to do so, Martin stopped him with a hand on his cheek, ignoring his temperature for now in favor of attempting to catch his unfocused gaze.

“Let me worry about that later.” And Jon looked stricken, but when Martin pulled him to his unsteady feet he was more concerned with staying upright, embarrassment shoved unceremoniously to the back of his mind. “Can you stand?” Whole, long seconds passed and Martin almost asked again, but Jon took a wobbly step only to topple into the taller man who caught him up and held him close.

“S’sorry.” Martin hitched him a little higher. “Dizzy. Jus’...ah.”

“It’s alright, Jon.” Who knew having a cot in the archives would prove to be so useful and Martin was grateful for it now, lowering him as gently as he could. “Nothing to be sorry for.” The hiss of pain sucked through his clenched teeth didn’t bode well. “I’ll be back.” With the first aid kit, warm water, maybe a change of clothes--he was pretty sure he had a few things. They’d be big on him but certainly cleaner than what he was in now. When he returned with his supplies, Jon had tipped onto his side, apparently asleep, and Martin was careful to wake him slow, worried when he didn’t seem to remember where he was or what was happening. With him so sluggish and lethargic, Martin wasn’t sure where to start (maybe a 999 call), deciding top to bottom was as good a plan as anything. Forcing cheer into his tone, he talked about what had been happening while he'd been away, dipping a cloth, wringing it out, and wiping the muck off his skin, noting the pallor in his face underneath all of the dirt. He had the start of a pretty intense fever and looking at him it wasn’t hard to puzzle out why but the only thing for it right now was water and rest.

Jon pushed him away when he began on his neck and it took Martin several minutes to talk him back down, convince him that he was safe before he was allowed to hold a warm compress over the gash across his throat to loosen the blood. It was deeper than it looked and longer than he’d have liked; another brutal scar to add to his growing collection and how was any of it fair? Butterfly stitches applied and covered over with clean bandages, Martin gave Jon a break and kept urging him to drink. He was so silent, focused on pulling in short and shallow breaths, and Martin kept his questions to himself, trying to ease the ruined jumper over his shoulders when it became clear that he was too sore to do it on his own. Each centimeter bared developing bruises just beginning to black and Jon’s breath hitched the higher he was forced to raise his arms, exposing more over his stomach, his ribs and Martin couldn’t help himself.

“What happened?”

“Mm?”

“These bruises?” He ran a delicate thumb over the edge of one, watched him shiver in response.

“Oh…” Martin got the impression Jon was answering from somewhere far away and didn’t blame him. “Asked questions.” He didn’t elaborate and Martin moved on to his hands, draping the blanket over him while he unwrapped old dressings and examined the burn spanning his entire palm and fingers. He didn’t want to think about the shape of it, like he’d shaken hands with the wrong sort, and instead examined the broken blisters lining the long, ruined fingers of both hands, cleaning them gently and applying salves and more bandages before slipping a worn jumper over his head and joggers onto narrow hips, tying the cords to keep them secure. Jon was too pliant, too submissive, more than spent after whatever he’d been through and he sighed in heavy relief when he was finally allowed to lay down.

“Better?” Martin brushed some stray curls out of his face after tucking him in and he nodded.

“Tired.”

“You can sleep, it’s alright.” Jon forced heavy lashes apart, closed them again when Martin swept light fingertips over them. “I’ll keep watch. You’re safe.”

Late into the next day, Martin saw Jon back to Georgie’s flat where he immediately curled up in bed with the Admiral, clutching his borrowed clothes, so baggy they dwarfed his small frame and made the vulnerability in him that much more. He shared a cup of tea, spoke with Georgie in a hushed voice and urged her to keep an eye on him if he’d let her. She nodded resolutely and wished him luck when he left to return to the institute.

“Well?” Basira accosted him immediately as soon as he stepped through the door.

“Christ, Basira!” Hand over his heart, Martin calmed his racing heart, suddenly surrounded by the lot of them.

“Well?”

“He’s exhausted.”

“Aren’t we all?” Martin ignored Tim’s comment. It wasn’t a competition, just a bad situation all around, and after treating and cataloging all of Jon’s myriad injuries, he didn’t feel like continuing along that track. It wouldn’t help anybody. It wouldn’t convince them that Jon was as much a victim in all this as they were. That he didn’t want this. Instead.

“He’ll be back in a few days. Or probably tomorrow, knowing him.”

“Wonderful.”

“Tim!” Martin pinched the bridge of his nose, already exasperated. “Tim, just. Go easy, alright?”

“Oh, I’ll go easy.” Full of grief and anger and heartbreak with nowhere for all of it to go, it had sharpened into a blade Tim wielded with deadly precision. Jon had been at the other end of it for a long time and despite his own frustrations with him, Martin wanted to shield him from the worst of it even if he knew he wouldn’t be able to. If Tim wanted to hurt Jon, he would, and it made him want to weep.

Sure enough and right on time, Jon dragged himself into the archives, mumbling a breathy ‘thank you’ to Martin as he passed by him to his office on new fawn’s legs. It didn’t escape his notice that he was still wearing the jumper, bundled up in it with his bandaged fingers tangled in the sleeves.

And work began again as though they’d never stopped.

Jon could have spent the next eternity wrapped up in bed, bundled in the comfort of Martin’s clothes and hiding from his very new and very real responsibilities. He ached, deeply, profoundly, in a million different ways, crushed by the weight of it all and barely able to breathe. Georgie was disappointed by his decision to go back to the institute but he had to do whatever he could to protect the rest of them, even if that meant playing into Elias’ hands until they came up with a solution together.

If they would have him back.

Reading the statements was going slow, too slow, the pounding in his head increasing whenever he tried to focus. Jon kept the lights low, avoiding the hallways with their cold fluorescent bulbs beaming down at him from above, bowing his back, trying to push him into the floor, keep him there like an insect pressed between pages and he would gladly succumb if it meant he could rest.

“Oi!” He jumped at the sharp voice, groaning when the stabbing hurt all over his body intensified.

“T’Tim?”

“‘Y’yeah.’” He mocked, tossing a stack of folders onto the already overflowing surface of the desk.

“What, what’re these?” Though his hands were shaking and sore, Jon picked up the pile, paging through distractedly.

“How the hell should I know. Martin said you asked for them.” He had?

“I don’t. I’m sorry, I don’t remember.”

“Tch. Of course. Busy work to keep us preoccupied so we don’t have time to plot?”

“Wha--no, no!” It seemed his paranoia continued to have lasting consequences and he supposed it was only fair. “No, I wouldn’t. I. I’m sure I asked for them.” Reasonably sure, though for the life of him he couldn’t remember when. He couldn’t remember asking Martin but there was no reason for Tim to lie. Fingers snapping in front of his face jerked him back to the present.

“What’s wrong with you?” His eyes were narrowed and he was standing so close, too close, and suddenly Jon was on his feet, swaying into the wall and pushing past Tim in a desperate bid for the loo, head pounding enough to make him ill and only just making it in time to rid himself of the tea he didn’t remember drinking. Shaky, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, leaning back against the wall and willing the spinning to stop or slow or do anything that might make it less overwhelming. He washed his hands, his face, letting the cool water drip from his chin and closed his eyes against his reflection in the mirror. When he returned Tim was gone and Jon was thankful, tears prickling, threatening, as he sat back in his chair and rested his forehead on his folded arms for only a moment.

It was better in the stacks, dark and still, silent save for the rustling of statements and that didn’t make any sense at all even though something in the back of his mind insisted it did, encouraged him to pick one up and devour it. But the letters swam on the pages and his legs refused to hold him up any longer and he slid to the floor, hugging the folder to his chest and breathing in the stale scent of old, yellowing paper and ink. He felt so poorly, so tired, and he didn’t remember curling up on the floor but he must have, because he was, the statement still crushed in his arms like a safety blanket. How long had he been asleep? Getting up seemed too monumental a task and he let his eyes slip shut with a sigh, breathing through all the pain of his injuries.

Too much. This was all too much.

But it was quiet here among the boxes and envelopes, tucked with his back against the shelf grounding him, taking away some of that awful wooziness, the feeling of vertigo he hadn’t quite gotten rid of after his encounter with Mike Crew. He was safe here underground; underground was the opposite of up, the opposite of falling endlessly and he breathed in, out, slow, measured. Until his physical self seemed to drop away with everything else.

Plucked like a weed, Jon was lifted into the air, hauled up by his collar and set clumsily on his feet, pressed forcefully into the shelving. If it wasn’t for the hand at his throat (his throat, she was going to slice him open, bleed him like a game animal) he would have fallen and he was so scared of falling, no air in his lungs, just the deafening rush of it in his ears, so he scrabbled desperately, the statement fluttering away somewhere in favor of holding onto wrists attached to arms attached to shoulders attached to Tim. The world tilted on its axis, rolling like a ship at sea and he was desperately afraid of being released into that endless void.

“--Hiding down here?” How long had he been speaking? His face, features so twisted in revulsion of him he almost didn’t look like Tim, was close enough that he could feel his breath on his face. “Martin’s been worried sick looking for you!” Why was he yelling at him? He’d, he’d been here, not hiding, not doing anything. Just trying to, to, stay on the ground. Everything blacked out when Tim shook him roughly, shouting something else, and Jon didn’t know what he wanted, what would make him leave him alone, stop being so angry with him. He was going to be ill, too dizzy even when mercifully held still again and he was torn between letting go and taking his chances with Crew and sticking to Tim like a burr. But Tim made the decision for him, shaking him off, dropping him to his feet and shoving him forward and Jon knew he shrieked, shameful, loud, but he was falling, falling, falling and he hurt where he’d been pushed, like his bones were trying to make room by doing their level best to yank themselves free.

But he was plunging down, straight down, unmoored, unanchored, too much space, infinite space and nothing to grab to slow himself and he was going to fall forever and ever and ever and--

“Jon!”

No. He’d. How.

“Martin…” Whimpering, voice choked with tears, more of them streaming, pouring down his face, and he clung to Martin, solid, strong, holding him.

“Tim, what did you do?”

“M’falling...m’falling, Martin.” Clutching, clawing, he was going to hurt him if he wasn’t careful but he was too frightened, he had to be hurting him. Sobbing, selfish, stupid, and he couldn’t stop.

“You’re not, I’ve got you, Jon, I won’t let you fall.” Murmuring gently, embracing him tightly and it hurt, but he’d rather hurt than fall forever. “You’ve got to take a breath, Jon.” But all the air was rushing past him, too quickly to drink up even a sip, let alone breathe any into his seizing chest. “I’ve got you, try for me.” And he did, he would swear it, he’d try anything for Martin but he’d always failed in the most important tasks. He’d always failed the most important people.

At least he wasn’t falling anymore.

“Tim, what did you do?” Martin shifted Jon, passed out over his shoulder with bandaged fingers still tangled in his jumper and he was surprised he hadn’t torn it in his panic. Gently he pulled him into his lap, boiling with heat beneath his hands and heaving hard-won, gasping breaths.

“I--” He swallowed, shock naked in his expression. “I found him here, on the floor. Uh, pulled him up?” Tim raked his hair back. “I was rough, but. I didn’t mean.” Martin could only hope he looked as angry as he felt and Tim stopped speaking, following him to document storage like a lost puppy.

“Mm…” he held Jon tight, secure, relieved that he’d come around as quickly as he did even if he was groggy, setting him firmly on the cot, exerting pressure on his shoulders, an unspoken ‘I’m here, you’re here, no one is falling.’ He ducked his head, hiding from the light and groaning low.

“Jon, look at me.” He hadn’t noticed before, the black of his dilated pupils swallowed up by deep brown irises, but with the light, and his sensitivity to it, Martin suspected a head injury. “Jon?” Gently he tilted his face up with the tips of his fingers under his chin, trying to catch his dazed stare as it slipped over him like water over a stone.

“Hey! Stop ignoring him!” Jon flinched, hands clapping over his ears and curling even farther into himself while Martin glared. “Sorry.” Tim mumbled, arms crossed, leaning against the wall to give them some space.

“S’okay, Jon.” He inched closer. “Did you hit your head? Does your head hurt? Can I check?”

“Check?” Before Tim could do much more than scoff, Martin shushed him. If he wasn’t going to help, then it would be better for him to leave.

“Yep.” He didn’t wait for much more confirmation, just carefully reached forward under Jon’s wary gaze and buried his fingers in thick, unkempt curls, smiling softly when he leaned into the touch. Bolder, he cupped his face with his other hand, stroking along his cheek and watching his eyes drift closed with a hum. “Ah, oh, Jon.” Right at the back of his skull there was a large swelling, painful to the touch if Jon’s reaction was anything to go on. “Were you hit?”

“Hit?” Jon’s wrapped, burned fingers brushed against his own when he went to check for himself. “Daisy hit me.” Just a stated fact that chilled Martin to the bone and he watched his other hand come up to touch the column of his bandaged neck. “Daisy cut me.” He glanced back at Tim, trying to gauge his reaction, relieved to see horror blossoming in his expression and when he turned to Jon again, it was as if he was seeing Martin for the first time. “Martin?” He let his weight fall into his palm, and when his dark, damp eyes slipped shut, tears ran down his face. “Don’, don’think m’well.”

“Okay, it’s okay. I’ve--” his eyes flicked towards Tim. “We’ve got you.” Jon swallowed and Martin could feel it against his palm, literally holding his cut throat in his hands. "Can you tell us what's wrong?"

“Hur’s. Spin...falling, m’falling.” He paled, clutched at the linens, his breath shallow and fast and even Tim came forward in concern.

“I’ve got you, won’t let you go anywhere, Jon.” To Tim, “Don’t think he can tell which way is up. Vertigo? Concussion? We’ve got ice packs in the freezer yeah?”

“Anything else?”

“Ginger tea? If we have it.”

“M’tin…” He brushed stray curls back away from his forehead. “Stay? Please?”

“Of course I will.” Gentle and soft and Tim returned with tea and cold compresses quickly, passing off the mug to Martin, going so far as to sit beside Jon. “I’ve got to let go of you now.” And the look of panic and sorrow and resignation told him more about his state of mind than anything else.

Martin promised he would stay.

Martin was letting him go.

Jon was not surprised.

Just sad, so, so sad.

Prepared to be tossed aside.

“‘Course...s’sorry.” Another swallow, another and another, swallowing it down, how frightened he was, how lonely. Tears slipped over Jon’s skin, over Martin’s. “M’sorry, sorry.”

Too many.

Too much.

He watched Jon pull away, swaying, woozy, grip tightening on the sheets such that his knuckles were bone white. Alone again. Alone always. How dare he think or hope or dream otherwise.

“Got’chu, boss.” Martin waited until Tim had him ‘round the shoulders, pressing him into his sturdy side, before removing his hand and holding the mug to his lips.

“Drink this down and then some sleep, I think.” Together, they tipped him carefully sideways, grabbing his hands when they flew out to the side in an attempt to break a nonexistent fall, and Tim pressed a cold pack to the back of his neck, a shadow of a smile crossing his face when Jon relaxed into the pillow.

“You’re alright, boss. Won’t let you fall.”

#TMA #The magnus archives #jon sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #strained relationships #sickfic #concussion #vertigo #Bad mental health #vomiting #Hurt/comfort

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captaincravatthecapricious · 4 years ago

Text

Feverish and Teary & How Long Has it Been Since You’ve Eaten- Prompt Fill

@thatonekidellis Jon, Tim, and Martin have a rough time after the Unknowing. Especially Jon. I hope this is kind of what you were asking for?

@janekfan you get a ping because this is your au!

CWs: nausea, vomiting, fainting, fever, food mention, alcohol mention, canon typical mentions of Tim's pre-unknowing mindset, canon typical Jon not taking care of himself.

I am still accepting bingo prompts, so let me know which character, which prompt, and if you want a drawing of a fic! Bingo card by the wonderful @celosiaa! This one is twice my usual length because it is two prompts and I did not want to cheat!

The Unknowing blows up.

As simple as that.

All according to plan.

It really is as simple as that.

Jon, Tim, Daisy, Basira. Piled back in Daisy's car. Ears ringing. Soot slowly settling. Trying to drive away before the actually police get there.

It hasn't been Jon's problem how to avoid arrest.

He is even more glad it isn't his problem now, as he slides down the beat up seat in the back of Daisy's car. Ash streaks the window, mixing with the light rains that is starting to fall.

Jon tries not to vomit the nothing he's eaten in the last couple days. Nothing in him but frayed nerves and statements. Hadn't even managed to stomach dramamine before their trip.

Jon just wants to sleep.

They still have their hotel reservation for another couple hours, so Daisy drives them back there to clean up before heading back to London. Yes they have to go back today, it's less suspicious. Jon isn't sure if that is actually true, but he doesn't have the energy to argue.

Tim showers. Jon sends a text to Martin. 'Alive.'

He doesn't answer Martin's near-immediate call because just then he's dry-heaving into the small bin in the corner. Stiff and shaking and sweaty and miserable.

Jon showers. Too dizzy to stand, he sits on the shower floor. He hates that. The tub feels filthy. He feels filthy. He scrubs his skin raw. He stands. He throws up more nothing. He scrubs himself again, leaning heavily on the wall.

He wants to talk to Tim. He wants to tuck himself into Tim's arms and never move again. Christ, he's running an impressive fever. Probably. It's hard to tell. And his brain is swimming too much to even think about asking the Eye.

He's cold. He shivers in his threadbare joggers and stolen jumper (Martin's).

He wants to join Tim on the bed by the window, but Tim ...looks too deep in a melancholy thought to even notice. Somewhere between losing his drive for anything, adrenaline crash, and losing the last hope of a last glimpse of Danny, if Jon were to guess.

Jon could say something. He knows he could. But, hasn't he caused enough of a fuss? Made Tim and Martin trail after him after the ...the.... with Daisy and... that. If he'd have just stayed quiet and stayed still... well Tim would still hate him... and might not be alive... but ....but he's caused so much worry with that. And then with... his other kidnapping No. He can't think about what that... what... not without puking again which... the point is not to worry Tim. Which means he should try some medicine again.... if he can keep it in him half an hour he'll survive the drive back. Probably.

Christ, when is the last time he bothered to drink anything?

He lays there in a daze until Daisy bangs on the door telling them it's time to leave.

Tim sleeps on the drive back. Finally giving into the last few sleepless nights. Jon is jealous.

Last night had been spent tangled together, shaking, awake, and silent. Anxiety too thick to slice with words. Not even nothing to turn off the lights, because the fear is a little easier to manage in the light. Jon couldn't stop thinking about Nikola. He couldn't stop thinking about plastic hands on him. Couldn't stop thinking about how many things could go wrong and how he could lose Tim and Martin when he only just got Tim back.

Jon was pretty sure Tim hadn't been sleeping the last few nights. Jon knows he hasn't. Not that he has slept well in a long time.

In any case, Tim sleeps. Jon doesn't.

Daisy glares at him through the review mirror. Jon isn't sure if she is still waiting for him to prove himself monstrous so she can attack, or if she is making sure he isn't ill in her car... again. (He really wishes he could forget his first ride in her car. Really really really wishes. It was not a pleasant experience for anyone, and Daisy had made him pay the cleaning bill.)

It doesn't matter, he slides down further in his seat and closes his eyes tightly.

His head hurts.

Thankfully the medicine knocks him out soon enough.

Martin greets them at the institute door. Melanie by his side.

Jon hazily wakes up to Martin gently touching his shoulder.

"You actually made it! I'm so glad you're safe... I was so worried, Jon why didn't you answer your phone, I've been so worried, I mean I know you would have said something if something had happened, but Christ I've been so worried about you, come here."

Jon starts mumbling some apologies, but is interrupted by Martin gently gathering him in a hug. Jon sinks into it, fervently hoping Martin doesn't notice the heat rolling off of him.

Thankfully Martin is too distracted, gathering Tim in a crushing embrace. Likely very relieved that Tim didn't die, and knowing Tim is harder to break than Jon with his delicate bones and fragility following many incidents.

Jon... doesn't really know what he's trying to accomplish. Just... get out? Or go in? Or get to the cot? Or just curl up on the cold tile of the basement toilets? Get away from people he will inevitably worry?

Just go somewhere where he can fall apart without taking anyone else down with him.

It looks like Martin has been crying. Jon hopes it isn't over him.

Tim needs to recover from the emotional toll of the last few days without having to pick up the pieces after Jon Again.

Jon slowly backs away.

His head is swimming, but that's okay. If he can just reach the Archives. The cot. Anywhere. Anywhere away from this moment. This breath.

His vision swims violently, and there is no doubt in his mind that he is going to be very well acquainted with the pavement in a matter of seconds. Either that or he's going to be ill? No. Sidewalk. He's going to eat the sidewalk. Heh... first thing he'll have eaten in days.

He isn't sure if he loses consciousness or not. It's hard to tell in the blur of motion and sounds and his spinning head. Sound is almost gooey in this state of almost unconsciousness, but he thinks someone might be shouting. Or several someones. He should maybe worry about this? But in actuality, he is praying he properly passes out to save himself any more embarrassment and save himself from his unsteady insides.

His face hurts.

Someone is holding him.

Jon fights to open his eyes. They don't seem to want to look in the same direction, rolling in their sockets instead of doing what he wants them to. He blinks hard a few times, failing to bring things into focus. Glasses? Does he still have those? Did they break? No... still there. Skewed on his face. Just... too dizzy to see, then.

Daisy and Basira are glaring at him. Melanie is walking away. Possibly. Hard to tell when the world is tilting with unsteady regularity.

Jon closes his eyes again, pressing a groan against the nausea that threatens to overcome him, despite the medicine.

"Jon?"

"Burning up."

He's too hazy to put a name to a voice. The words dripping in the air around him, tightening around his chest, silly string sitting on his skin in fibrous heaps that jiggle uncomfortably, cold and clammy.

Shit, thinking in gibberish. That can't be good.

“Does anyone know how long he’s been ill?”

Someone grunts.

Footsteps. Two sets? I’m asking away. Leaving him.

“I.... I don’t know. I don’t think he was feverish last night? But... I haven’t exactly been... It’s. It’s been hard.”

“Jon?”

He’s being jostled. He whines. Stomach flopping dangerously.

"Jon? Are you awake? Can you open your eyes for me?"

"Oh shit, he's gonna puke."

He's being lifted, shifted on his side, bin shoved in his hands. Where he throws up more nothing.

He's crying now, feeling like utter shit, and unfortunately more awake.

He isn't sure if eyes swimming with tears is better or worse than the unsteady world tipping around him and making him feel worse.

"Christ, Jon!"

He finally pries his eyes open. Martin and Tim solidify above him. More or less. Still fuzzing in and out of focus.

Now that he's crying, he just... can't stop. Fistfuls of Martin's sweater.

"Oh Jon..." Martin's arms circle him, carefully. Gentle not to jostle him more.

"Buddy. Think we can get you off the sidewalk?" Tim. Cupping his face. Smoothing back sweat and tear soaked hair, long since escaped his bun, still not dried from his earlier shower. "My flat isn't far, you know? Didn't bring my car here, though. Still... wasn't..."

Tim cuts himself off, but even addled as he is, Jon can fill in the rest of the sentence.

So can Martin apparently, because Martin frowns. It's never been more apparent that he's been crying quite recently. "Still weren't sure you were coming home... Tim..." And his eyes start looking damp.

Tim is tearing up now. "Martin... let's not in the street... I can carry Jon back to mine, it isn't far. You can come too. We'll get some take out. Drink some whiskey. Get Mr. Smoking hot cooled off. We can talk then. It's.... it's been a rough week."

"Jon? Can I carry you? I think that might be less rough than a cab ride? Do you need a few minutes?"

Martin's voice is soft, and Jon thinks he could sleep right there. In fact, he might. So he nods.

Martin lifts him carefully. His head swims again. This all is feeling rather familiar. Jon takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He tries to relax despite the lingering anxieties about heights. Martin feels safe. Tim is also safe now. He lets himself drift.

He wakes briefly on the trip.

"Hey bud, how are you feeling?" Tim. Tim seems off. Too many things crossing his face to parse out, probably even for someone with a better sense than Jon of what those subtle face changes mean. But Jon is too hazy to think.

Jon's mouth feels gummed up. His eyes feel gummed up.

He's thankful his mouth doesn't taste like something died in it, though. Although he is very aware how unhealthy it was that he's spent a good portion of the day with his body trying to turn itself inside out, and he couldn't so much as produce bile.

Jon feels sick thinking about it, so stops. He drifts again.

He wakes to a damp rag on his forehead, no memory of anything past the explosion.

How did he get here?

"Sorry, that looked like a nice sleep, but you'll feel better with some medicine in you, and some water. We can try some tea later, once the meds work. And some food hopefully."

Martin helping him sit up. Just enough to get a few sips and some pills into Jon. Which, Jon thought was probably optimistic, but he'd try it for Martin.

"When was the last time you ate?" Martin again.

Jon blinks at him in confusion. "Is it over?"

"Is what over?" Still Martin.

Where's Tim? Where's Daisy? Where's Basira? Where's Melanie?

His breathing picks up, and that makes his head spin again, and makes him wonder just how long he can keep the medicine down.

"Is it over, what happened?" He's panting now, halfway to a panic attack.

"Jon? Jon! Calm down. Can you take a breath for me?"

How did he get here? Where is he? This looks like Tim's flat, but there is Tim? Did he survive.

Jon reaches for anything. But comes up blank.

"Where's Tim? What happened?" He gasps out. It feels like his ribcage is shrinking, being laced up the front. fighter than the corset he had worn in acting class in uni.

"Tim's... taking a moment. As soon as we got you here... he.... it's been rough on him, you know? He did all this for... and I know he said he wanted to live. He wants to live... but he's... not been in a good place and it's helped that you two are talking again... and that he's had company more... but he saw an old picture with.... with his brother.... and that polaroid with ... with Sasha. Well, he keeps going between you know tearful and sorry and cackling about how everything blew up. It's... probably a lot to have three revenge schemes going at once for the same.... not a person really... but ... Her. And then... having it sorted. But... Listen Jon I don't know. What don't you remember... or what's the last thing you remember?" Martin edges on histerical near the middle, but takes a turn for the sad near the end.

"I remember the... the world was all wrong. Then... then it blew up. Is it over? Martin are you real. Is everyone alive? What happened to you?" He's desperate. Desperate breaths too shallow. Words interrupted by jagged pulling of too thin oxygen. He's going to pass out.

He does.

He wakes feeling... clearer. The last period of wakefulness a distant and flighty thing, dancing just out of his reach. The rest of the embarrassing day back in vivid detail. Tim's sitting over him. Or rather, curled around him. Jon's hair is being played with. A stray curl looped around Tim's finger as he laughs softly to himself. Muttering that he's alive. That Jon's alive. That Martin is alive. he didn't lose anyone else. That that clown is finally dead. Finally.

Gentle and warm hand on his face, refreshing the cloth. Checking his temperature.

"I..." Tim chokes on a sob. And Jon tries to remember how his arms work so he can let Tim know he's there.

"Tim?"

"Hey bud... sorry." Tim wipes his eyes on his sleeve. "It's been a hell of a week. I... don't know how to feel about it. Fuck I need a drink.... And to check in with Martin. I... he hasn't told me what happened, but he's upset. And. Fuck I should have noticed you were ill, why didn't you say anything?" Tim's voice starts to rise, and Jon tenses. All the times Tim yelled at him still too fresh in his mind. He trusts Tim. he does... but Christ he is still afraid. Afraid that it can't last, that it isn't real. Where it be a trick of his mind, or some manipulation tactic to an end Jon can't see, he doesn't know.

"Hey. Hey. Buddy... Jon. I'm sorry. didn't mean to yell. It's just... been a day. I'm not mad at you. I just... I'm worried about you and Martin and I...I don't know how to feel about everything that happened. I'm sorry you feel like shit."

Jon feels... like shit. Marginally less nauseous, however. A little less like he's going to pass out again. Probably been given plenty of pills by Martin.

"Sorry." He croaks. Voice probably shredded with smoke. And fever.

"He, bud, don't apologize. I'm sorry I didn't notice you weren't well. I... I thought I knew better than to be that preoccupied. I mean... I guess I didn't make it worse this time, but..." Tim sighs. "I'm disappointed in myself because I don't want to fuck this up again. And no don't apologize again part of that was on me and yes part of that was on you and we've done apologies to death. All we can do now is keep going. I just wanted to protect you and I couldn't see you were fading in front of my eyes. Again. I know you haven't been eating or sleeping, but I haven't been either so I didn't want to call you on it, and I didn't want you to call me on it, but I should have noticed. I know I couldn't have done much, but I didn't do anything but shut you out again. I could have told someone to stop to get you medicine, or food or even a bit more rest. I know that would have done fuck-all, but I still could have offered you a little comfort and warmth and had us brought straight back here."

Tim's crying properly now. Jon is too. Not sure if it is the fever, or just... everything. There is so much to feel and think and worry about and yes they saved the world but that the fuck comes next.

What comes next is that Martin enters with tea for Jon and a bottle of whiskey.

Jon scrubs at his eyes. "Martin what happened?" Jon can see he's been crying again. That is starting to scare him. It's a goddamn miracle he hasn't pulled an answer out of anyone yet today.

"It's... well it isn't fine. I... well our plan worked here too. Just... you know... Elias. He can.... He can do things. It's fine. It's worth it." Martin swipes at his eyes furiously.

Jon pushes himself up, ignoring the room tilting around him, and hugs Martin. Jon's still crying. Martin sniffling. Tim also crying. It's... a very damp hug. And Jon knows he's too warm to be comfortable to hold, and he's shivering hard enough to rattle Tim and Martin.

"I'm... I'm so sorry Martin." Jon chokes out.

"It's alright. It was worth it. And you both. Christ I am so glad to see you again... I thought... I thought.... I didn't..." Martin is fully sobbing now. Tea set down on Tim's bedside table, the whiskey being pried from his hands by TIm.

Late that night the bottle is empty (and so are a couple more), Tim and Martin have killer headaches, and Jon is still feverish, but less so. A lot of tears have been shed. And Jon has been plied with enough liquids that he feels a little less like a crumbling husk.

By the time that Tim and Martin are ready to think about food, Jon is finally feeling like he can maybe stomach something. They order takeout. Jon... has some broth.

By morning Jon manages a few bites of leftovers.

By afternoon, Elias Bushard is arrested.

#the magnus archives #tma #magnuspod #fic #sickfic #cw nausea #cw vomit #cw vomiting #cw emeto #cw fainting #cw food #cw fever #fever #cw alcohol #my writing #my words #my art #my fic

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ladylynse · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 6 [FFN | AO3] of Forewarning

All Dipper knew was that there was something buried in some special thermos behind the shack; all Danny knew was that he had no idea how he'd gotten here.

Based off this artwork by @hashtag-art. Happy birthday, @bibliophilea!

(beginning | previous)

-|-

Once safely back at the Mystery Shack, Wendy turned off the golf cart and grabbed her supplies from the rack in the back. It had been a bumpy ride, but she’d only needed to sacrifice one bag of marshmallows to the forest. That wasn’t bad, considering how many creatures she was fairly sure lived there.

And, fine, maybe it made her a little paranoid to think that some of the bumps she’d hit had been deliberate, a growth of tree roots just so or deep holes suspiciously covered with leaf litter, but it wasn’t like she voiced her thoughts to anyone else.

Besides, whatever lived in the forest seemed happy with the occasional sacrifice of candy. At the very least, she’d never been stopped by something yet, and she took a lot of shortcuts through here by herself. That wasn’t exactly recommended, even for those who knew the territory well. When her family went out for apocalypse training, they were supposed to pair off. They didn’t always, but they did more often than not.

It’s easier to survive if there’s someone you trust around to watch your back, but you have to know how to fight if there isn’t.

Whatever had stopped by the Mystery Shack wasn’t bringing the apocalypse with it—she was pretty sure about that—but she didn’t want this to turn into that. Taking the twins to see the haunted grocery store? Sure. She still hadn’t been sure they’d actually see ghosts despite the stories—no one had been until it had happened—but that was different. That was contained. That was very much not in the Mystery Shack. Where the kids slept. With only the oblivious skeptic Stan around to fight the things that went bump in the night.

Now, if those things were corporeal, she wouldn’t be concerned. The man knew how to punch, and he’d punch before asking questions. But whatever had turned up this time clearly had the option to not be corporeal. Like a ghost.

She remembered the footprints appearing in the scattered baking soda a split second before the boy who’d visited earlier appeared. The same boy who had flashed a careless grin and flipped through postcards and keychains and magnets in the gift shop before taking a tour with Mabel.

Whatever he was, he wasn’t a ghost, but he was entirely too much like a ghost for comfort.

There was no sign of Stan yet—not a surprise; she hadn’t heard his car—but chances were good he wasn’t far behind her.

She saw Soos walking in from the lane and raised her hand in a wave. He spotted her and held a finger to his lips before pointing, and something cold and heavy settled in her gut as she spotted three figures by the woodshed: Mabel, Dipper, and the not-a-ghost boy who’d called himself Danny.

She cursed under her breath as she hurried to meet Soos. “That’s him,” she hissed. “We need to get him away from the twins.”

“Did you find anything in town that we can use?”

“I bought a couple more boxes of salt.” Silver was expensive—too expensive for her, anyway—and she wasn’t exactly guaranteed to find holy water even if she tried breaking into a church, mostly because she didn’t know where she’d look for it. She could’ve bought a cast iron frying pan, but she might as well grab one from the kitchen. The ideas of what they might be able to do had quickly fallen apart when she’d realized what was actually feasible. “It’s better than nothing.”

“What about garlic?”

“For a ghost?”

“You said he wasn’t a ghost.”

“Close enough to a ghost. And, anyway, there should be some in the kitchen. We can always chop up a couple of cloves and see if it does anything.” If it didn’t, and they didn’t waste it, they could always throw it into hamburger meat or make garlic bread. “How long has he been here? The kid?”

“Just a couple of minutes,” Soos allowed, “but this isn’t the first time the kids have met him.”

Wendy closed her eyes. “I know, I just…. I’d hoped they wouldn’t realize he wasn’t normal.” More to the point, she’d hoped that he wouldn’t come back. What the hell did he want, anyway? Sure, he’d said something about fixing whatever was wrong, but their ideas about what needed fixing weren’t likely the same.

“They might not. He was pretending to be normal when he talked to me.”

“He talked to you?”

“Just to ask after Dipper and Mabel.”

Wendy frowned. Soos didn’t sound too optimistic that Mabel and Dipper wouldn’t realize there was something weird about the kid, and frankly, she thought he was right. Mabel might be more forgiving, but Dipper…. “We’ll play it cool. Keep doing whatever you were doing. Try to keep an eye on them without being too obvious about it. I’ll prepare the fire pit.”

“The wood, campfire forks, hot dogs, marshmallows—?”

His gaze had wandered pointedly down to the box of salt pressing against the white plastic bag she carried, its blue label clearly visible. “Yeah. I won’t ring it thickly enough that it’s noticeable, especially since it’ll have to be in the gravel where nothing’s growing anyway, but if he’s going to pretend to be normal, then we’ll see how long he can keep that up.”

“And if he’s not affected by the salt?”

“We cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“And if we’re wrong and he is normal after all?”

Wendy snorted. “If he’s normal, he’s only normal for here.” She saw Soos shift uncomfortably and added, “If Stan comes back before I’m finished, give him the pitch about taking measures to ghost-proof the Mystery Shack and advertising doing that because it’s haunted. He’ll know how to get more of what we need, even if he doesn’t think it’ll do anything.”

“What if he’s not bad? The kid, I mean. Not everything is bad. Not everyone is bad.”

The kid had claimed he wasn’t a threat. He’d said he was stuck, that he just wanted to go home, that he had to fix something, not break it. What if it hadn’t been a lie? She didn’t see how his sneaking around could mean his intentions were honourable, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t missing something.

On the other hand, if he were simply determined to show a friendly face to the twins to get them to lower their guard, only to strike once he’d fooled them—

Wendy wasn’t sure if she wanted to take that risk. Having a healthy amount of suspicion now and apologizing later sounded much better to her than being overly trusting and being burned—especially if she wouldn’t be the only one caught in that fire. She and Soos had lived their entire lives here. Mabel and Dipper had not. They might not yet appreciate the degree to which not everything was as it appeared.

“You don’t need to be ready to attack,” Wendy finally said. “You just need to be ready to defend.” Soos nodded, maybe thinking her words were for both of them, but they weren’t. She had no intentions of simply being ready to defend. She wasn’t about to attack unprovoked, but if this kid did anything that set off alarm bells for her, she’d act on her gut. She trusted her gut more than her head. It was reliable in these sorts of situations.

The trouble was, her gut should have made a call on this already. Instead, she was still conflicted, and more time to mull it over on her trip into town hadn’t helped. Part of her still wanted to take the kid’s words at face value, but the little she’d seen of what he could do backed up the part of her that insisted he was far too dangerous to blindly trust. Soos wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but there was so much that could seem innocuous at first….

The knowledge that Soos was right and they had no idea if salt would actually help defend them didn’t make this any easier—especially when Danny was clearly interested in Mabel and Dipper. Soos had mentioned Dipper having a book, and she remembered seeing glimpses of it before. If that’s what the kid was interested in, how was she supposed to help Dipper and Mabel protect it while still protecting them?

Salt first. Purifying fire and questions later, if the kid decided to stick around for it. As long as he wasn’t hurting her friends, she was willing to give him a shovel and see how deep he dug.

XXXXXXX

Danny didn’t see the journal around, but Dipper apparently didn’t need it to draw his magic circle thing in the dirt. To be fair, Danny didn’t know if it was the same one as before, but he also didn’t want to find out. Which meant taking the initiative and trying to explain before they decided to pull more magic stuff on him.

“Please don’t do whatever you’re planning on doing,” he said, keeping his voice low in the hope that the guy he’d been talking to earlier wouldn’t hear it. “I just want to talk, I swear.”

“Are you ready to explain now?”

That was Dipper, with a bite in his voice that reminded Danny a bit of Valerie. Dipper might not sound even half as malicious as Valerie could when she was spitting curses at Phantom, but he was appropriately wary. “Yeah. But you have to promise you won’t try any magic stuff.”

“No. You’re not defenseless, and I’m not swearing away my ability to protect anyone.”

Oh. Right. He might think that particular promise carried more weight than a regular promise. He seemed to think giving his word would make it impossible to break. Danny didn’t know of any ghosts with that power, and frankly he didn’t want to meet one who had it. “You don’t have to. I just…. I promise I’m not here to hurt you or anyone else. I only want to talk. And not, y’know, risk being exorcised if you don’t believe me.”

Mabel looked from Danny to her brother and raised an eyebrow. He scowled at her but said, “Fine. If you don’t do anything except tell us the truth right now, I won’t try to exorcise you.”

Not ideal, but it wasn’t like Danny was planning on lying through his teeth to them, anyway—or that he couldn’t still attempt a lie if he felt he needed to. He had a feeling it wouldn’t work, though. He hadn’t had a whole lot of luck earlier. Maybe seeing through that thing was a kind of survival instinct around here, just like Secret Lab Guy had said.

Come to that, though— How had he had an entire conversation with someone, spilled half his life story to that someone, and not actually gotten their name?

Whatever. He’d ask later if he didn’t figure it out before then. It just proved the point, though. These people were good. Sharper than he was used to, unless almost everyone in Amity Park had already figured out his secret and was just being nice and waiting for him to make some kind of grand announcement.

Yeah, right. If Amity Park’s continued obliviousness wasn’t natural, then Vlad had done something. Not something Danny would thank him for, exactly, but something he wouldn’t fault him for, either.

“Thanks. Can I sit?” There weren’t chairs. There weren’t even logs. Dipper would be able to tell that he was staring at the circle drawn in the dirt, though, and know the question for what it was.

Mabel reached out one foot and drew a line through it with the toe of her shoe. “Yup!” she said, dropping down in place. “Pull up some grass.”

Dipper glared at her as Danny sat down on a patch that was more gravel than grass, but the other boy didn’t say anything; he just settled down and looked like he’d be ready to grab the axe beside him at a moment’s notice. Danny didn’t really want to find out if he knew how to use it. Then again, going by the assorted sizes of split logs nearby, he wasn’t overly skilled; even if it wasn’t a normal axe that Danny could avoid with intangibility, there was a good chance that Dipper was clumsy enough with it that he’d be easy enough to avoid.

“I’m sorry about not being entirely straight with you earlier when I said I would be.” Danny didn’t know where to begin, but an apology seemed smart when he still wanted their help.

“Which time, Phantom?”

Well, at least there wasn’t any lingering doubt. Danny sucked in a breath and let it out slowly to give himself a bit of time to think. Mabel looked ready to listen, but Dipper…. He still wasn’t sure about Dipper. “This isn’t exactly something I tend to tell strangers,” Danny said slowly, “but you’re right. I’m Phantom. I’m the one you let out of the thermos.”

Dipper was still practicing his glare, but Mabel asked, “So what are you? You’re not a ghost. We’ve seen ghosts.”

“I’m still a ghost,” Danny said, since as far as he knew, that was true. “Just…part ghost. Part human.” He rubbed the back of his neck and offered them a smile. “Remember when I joked about being the poster boy for interdimensional safety?”

“You expect us to believe you were in some sort of accident,” Dipper said flatly.

They didn’t need to know all the details, but— “Yeah. Lab accident. It didn’t kill me, or at least I don’t think it did, but I did get ghost powers, so that’s cool. Not something I’d recommend to anyone, but cool.”

Okay, Dipper definitely didn’t believe that, but Mabel nodded as if Danny had said something normal and not what probably sounded insane. “Why were you in the thermos?”

“Clockwork, I think. He’s the one who gave me the message to warn you in the first place, remember? Also the one who likes to pretend he doesn’t interfere but interferes like this. I thought it was Vlad, until I…until I realized how long it had been. And, no, before you ask, I don’t know who wrote that journal. I wasn’t lying about that. The only important bit I lied about was ‘Danny Fenton’ being a friend.”

“Why fess up now?” Dipper’s question was a challenge, sure, but Danny could hear the genuine curiosity behind it. Chance were, he wasn’t a great liar, either.

“Because I might need your help to get home. Especially if that help involves you trusting me enough to let me help you and you not trying to kill me first.”

“What were you looking for earlier?” Danny blinked, trying to figure out what that meant, and Dipper must have read that confusion on his face because he elaborated, “Mabel heard you. We know you were back before you showed yourself now.”

Right. She had been in the gift shop area, hadn’t she? “I was trying to find some clue about what else I’m supposed to do here.”

“And?”

That meant did you find it? Danny might’ve promised them the truth, but he’d also promised the other guy that he wouldn’t blow that secret, either. More or less. Hopefully that wasn’t what he was supposed to do here? “There’s something weird about this place,” he said instead. “It’s got this…feeling. I don’t know how to describe it.” It was something unnerving, like the feeling the Fright Knight could give you, but with more…. More I’m-watching-you vibes. Vlad times a hundred. If he didn’t need to stick around to get home, he’d be gone by now. Whatever Clockwork was trying to warn these guys away from, it felt like a danger on par with Pariah Dark.

Not that he’d be able to explain that to them.

Mabel reached over to poke Dipper in the arm. “Show him the journal.”

That would make things a lot easier for him. “I could tell you what it has wrong about ghosts. Or at least about me,” he offered. He wanted to do that regardless, but if he could give them more reason to show him, well….

“It seems to be right about you,” Dipper said, “unless you want to pretend that you’ve never been affected by anything we’ve done.”

Danny blew out a breath. “Look. Being part ghost doesn’t mean I’m exempt from everything that works on ghosts. It also means that I need to be careful around hunters, including you guys. But I’m not here to fight you or steal something or whatever your book says about me. I’m the good guy, I swear.”

“The good guy. Who needs his own little dedicated section in the journal.”

“Dedicated section?” That sounded worrisome. How much info did these guys have on him? Some of it had to be accurate, but if it was just full of things he’d done as a ghost with no context, like the stealing—

“More like a paragraph,” Mabel interrupted, “and it’s not even in the same language as the rest of it.”

Wait.

“Not the same language? What language is it?”

“See for yourself,” Mabel said. She elbowed Dipper when he didn’t immediately produce the journal and offer it up and then hissed a few things in his ear for good measure, which finally seemed to convince him. He pulled the journal out from beneath the vest he’d been wearing earlier, flipped through to the right page, and turned it around to show Danny.

Danny leaned closer, but he didn’t recognize the language, either. If it was something ghosts spoke, he’d never seen it written down, but aside from Wulf, most of the ghosts he’d met spoke English. He didn’t know how many other languages they spoke, though. He’d never asked. If this was some common language he had yet to learn….

“It might be the way it’s coded,” Dipper admitted, “instead of actually being in a different language. Some passages in the journal are coded, but they’re all the same code, except for this. I haven’t had any luck cracking it.”

Danny frowned, reading the page over before Dipper could take it away. He couldn’t see anything about a thermos or anything else that would have led them to him in the first place, but there was a bit of gibberish above that section written in green ink that might be the first code—

Wait. Green ink? Everything else in here was black or blue or some kind of brown that Danny really hoped wasn’t blood. “What else is written in this colour?” he asked, pointing to the passage.

“That’s it.”

“In the entire book?” That didn’t make sense. “But…why?”

“When I find the author of the journals,” Dipper said bluntly, “that won’t be one of the first questions I ask.”

“It won’t even be one of the first hundred,” Mabel added. “Dipper’s never understood the importance of colour.”

To be fair, it wasn’t typically high on Danny’s list of priorities, either, but this colour thing was definitely strange. How many other weird things were in that book if this didn’t make the list?

“Does it mean something to you?” Mabel asked.

Danny hesitated. The fact that it happened to be the same colour as his eyes—or his ectoplasm—in ghost mode could be a coincidence, but things tended to be a lot less coincidental when Clockwork was involved. Danny wasn’t really ready to bet that whoever had written this journal had simply run out of every other colour of pen that day. “Maybe,” he admitted, “but only in that it might point toward me.” Or another ghost like him. Hopefully not Danielle.

“So do you know who wrote it?” she prompted.

He shook his head. “I don’t know the handwriting. That’s not saying much, though. There are a lot of people—and ghosts—I know whose handwriting I’d never recognize.” He wasn’t even sure he’d recognize the Ghost Writer’s handwriting. “What does the other part say about me?”

“That something was stuck in a thermos behind the shack,” Mabel answered immediately, ignoring her brother’s glare. “Which it was.”

“It’s a Fenton Thermos, something specifically designed to contain ghosts. My parents build them.” If he wasn’t trying to keep his secret anymore, there was no harm in admitting that. “They’re paranormal scientists and inventors.”

“Like the author of the journal is,” Mabel said, shooting Dipper a pointed look. “That must be why the bit about the thermos is in there.”

“Not— I mean, I’m not thirty years old. Seriously. Do I look that old to you? I just turned fifteen last week.” Well. Last week for him. Not for whenever this was, five years in his future. “Me being in the thermos is Clockwork’s fault.” Probably. Except Clockwork wouldn’t have needed to catch him in a thermos to force him back here; he could’ve simply asked and called in a favour if Danny had complained, which he would’ve. More likely, Clockwork had merely taken advantage of someone else capturing him in a thermos, and that list of possibilities was long—and included more than one ally, even when the capturing was intentional.

“I don’t know all the details, okay? I just…. I haven’t met a ghost besides Clockwork that messes with time.” His evil future self didn’t count, not when Clockwork’s power had still been the vehicle for everything he’d done.

…Danny really hoped this had nothing to do with him. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t appreciate the thermos parallels.

Of course, now that he thought about it, the fact that he’d been stuck in a thermos had to be deliberate. Sure, it was a way to skirt the notice of the Observants, but Clockwork had messed with the timeline before without doing anything sneaky like that. If the thermos was important…. Coupled with the fact that there was a portal being built beneath a place called the Mystery Shack….

“That’s why I’m here.”

“You care to share with the class?” Dipper asked.

“The thermos, the portal—”

“What portal?”

Oops. “The, y’know, whatever, it doesn’t matter, the point is, you said the author of the journals was a paranormal scientist? Maybe an inventor, too?”

“No, no, don’t change the subject. What portal?”

“Like a portal to another dimension?” Mabel queried. “Is that why you talked about interdimensional safety earlier?”

Oh, crud. They weren’t going to let his slip about the portal go. So much for that secret. “Just…never mind that right now. Paranormal scientist. Inventor. Like my parents. He probably didn’t know them, it would’ve been too early on for them to have made a name for themselves, they might not even have been together yet, but…. Okay. This is gonna sound crazy—”

“Crazier than everything else you’ve said?” Dipper asked dryly.

“—but just go with me on this. Please. I know what happened when my parents messed stuff up, and—”

“And you’re warning us so we’re prepared and more careful,” Mabel finished. “So I don’t get impatient and Dipper doesn’t get complacent.”

Danny frowned. “What?”

“Your warning,” she repeated. “You’re not trying to get us to stop what we’re doing. It’s a terrible warning for that. That kind of thing just makes you wanna do it more, whatever it is. So you’re actually warning us to be more careful than you think we would be otherwise.”

Danny opened his mouth to tell her that warning someone not to do something obviously meant they shouldn’t do it, and then he remembered all the times his parents had warned him not to touch stuff in the lab.

Right.

Maybe she wasn’t wrong.

Just because that was what a warning meant, didn’t mean it would always have the desired effect.

Moreover, Clockwork would know exactly what to have Danny say to get the desired effect.

He’d thought he’d come to help with the portal, but he still didn’t know the blueprints of his parents’ portal as well as Tucker did. If this were just about helping them build or fix the portal in the basement without bad consequences, Tucker was a better choice than he was, and Clockwork could most definitely have arranged that.

But Danny had joked about being the poster boy for interdimensional safety, and he could still disassemble and reassemble most of his parents’ weapons in order to tweak them, even if he wasn’t as good at it as Tucker, and he’d be an idiot to keep ignoring the fact that Clockwork had made sure he had a thermos here.

The thermos wasn’t for him. It had never been for him. It had contained him, sure, but Clockwork must’ve made sure he was stuck in one so that he’d think of this. So that he’d think of what they’d done with his evil future self. And so he’d have it when he needed it.

There was a portal in a secret lab in the basement of the Mystery Shack, and the thermos written about in Dipper’s journal was for whatever was coming out of it.

(see more fics | next)

#gravity falls #danny phantom #phantom falls #crossover #fanfiction #gf fanfiction #dp fanfiction #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #crossover snippet #gf snippet #dp snippet

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orange-imagines · 4 years ago

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Congrats on your new blog!! 😁 I was wondering, how would the Mud Dogs react when their crush is friends with the turtles? Do you think the turtles and the Mud Dogs would get along??

A/N - Mud Dogs content hell yeah

I have no idea how you managed to befriend both of these groups (at least I’m going to assume you’re friends with the Mud Dogs in this), but, honestly, I can see the Mud Dogs being pretty chillaxed about what you do in your spare time and who you choose to spend it with outside of them, so they don’t really pry. And, well, you know the turtles. They didn’t know their own dad’s true identity for a whole 13 years

Your accidental double life totally fits with the vibe of the show

You didn’t mean to hide your friendships from anyone, they just sort of happened and never got brought up. And no one asked. Whoops

Honestly, the whole discovery part was a little awkward because,,would you believe it,,,you had no idea the guys were even enemies

They aren’t even technically enemies! The Mud Dogs just had a bad encounter with Raph one time and you only heard about it a couple days later when you were hanging out at the Mud Dogs’ apartment and Leonard was going off about this “lame red guy” who totally screwed them over

“Uh...could you repeat that, Len?”

“Lame red guy. Looked kinda like a turtle. We thought he was Heinous Green, but he was just pulling one over on us.”

“Oh okay okay cool cool okay cool would you guys excuse me for a second-”

You had no idea how to go about this, but both groups meant so much to you that you couldn’t just up and abandon either of them

You’re kinda pressed for options, and probably don’t feel like continuing to lead a weird, double life, so you decide to just introduce the guys to each other. How hard could it be?

(This goes a couple different ways depending on which Mud Dog it is that’s crushing on you)

Leonard

The second he sees Raph, he’s pushing you behind him and trying to shiv the guy

This does not go over well

You’re gonna have to get Danny and Mickey to hold Leonard back while you explain to the turtles that this is just a misunderstanding, and no one’s going to stab Raph

But, even if you’re not in a relationship yet, Leonard is protective -and he heard the rumors about Raph taking down Heinous Green. There’s no way he’s not gonna fight to keep his family out of that line of danger

Eventually, upon your insistence, everyone will calm down. It’ll take a minute for Leonard to see that Raph’s not a threat to them, and you might have to stare him down a bit to get him to back off, but he will

Still, Leo, Mikey and Donnie will be watching Leonard like hawks for the rest of the time you’re all together

After you explain everything, Leonard’s kind of hurt. He thought you guys were closer than that- he thought you knew you could tell him anything. But once you clarify that it was just an honest mistake, he’s more understanding than he would’ve been with anyone else. It’s you, after all. He can’t stay mad at you

Danny

At first he’s just shocked and confused. He’s quiet, but he keeps an arm around you because he doesn’t trust Raph as far as the turtle could throw him

Once you start putting yourself in the middle of everything to calm the guys down, he listens. He isn’t quite sure what to say, so he’s watching you intently and deeply processing your words

He knows making blind threats and being overly protective isn’t going to help right now, and he trusts you. A lot. And from how chummy you seem to be with these turtles, it’s pretty easy for him to realize that you guys are friends and they’re not gonna hurt his family, which relaxes him a lot

After you get everyone on the same page, Danny begins to understand that it was just a weird mix up. He can recognize when someone has malicious intent, and you definitely didn’t. So he’s cool. He’ll still tease you about being friends with a bunch of “goody-two-shoes heroes”, though

Mickey

“Oh fuck!!”

He honestly thinks the turtles ambushed them, so he’s got a hand on your arm, ready to either fight or make a run for it at any second

Raph is obviously confused, so he steps up to bring his questions to you, but Mickey’s Not Having That

Like Leonard, you’ll have to physically hold him back. Which kind of ends up with you just holding him against you as you talk things out with Raph and the others glare each other down, waiting for either Raph or Leonard’s signal to attack

Mickey’s still in your arms...he’s not complaining

Once you get things sorted out, he’s honestly not even mad about your weird, secret double life. He has no idea how none of them figured it out before, but he thinks it’s kinda cool. I feel like he would get that you were trying to sort things out and he honestly does not care if you force him to try and get along with four teenagers. He’ll do it for you

He’ll probably hold this over your head for a bit though. Just as a “you hid your double life from me. You owe me a night out committing arson” kinda thing

All in all

It would take a while, but I feel like the guys could learn to coexist and be cool. They may be on nearly opposite sides, but all of them are your friends. And if they all really mean that much to you, they can put their differences aside

But the turtles will get worried when you’re on missions with the Mud Dogs, and vice versa. You’re exposing yourself to twice as much danger, but, then again, you’ve got twice as many friends watching your back

...You might want to keep an eye on Donnie, though. He may or may not be crafting an anti-Mud Dogs ray as we speak

#rottmnt x reader #rottmnt imagines #rottmnt leonard x reader #rottmnt danny x reader #rottmnt mickey x reader #rottmnt mud dogs x reader #rottmnt mud dogs

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gladly-be-the-good · 4 years ago

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"Hi I'm Boyd, a definitely real boy! Do you want to see the lab?" Danny raised an eyebrow as his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Suuure." Jazz smiled widely at the little boy bot and said, enthusiastically,

"We'd love to!" Boyd reached out for their hands. Jazz took his immediately while Danny shoved his hands in his pockets. Boyd didn't seem too discouraged, so Gyro wouldn't eject the moody teen from his lab, yet.

As soon as they were in another room Boyd started taking.

"This is where Dr. Gearlose first thought up the Gizmoduck armor! He made it as a tool to help around the lab, but then Dr- um, I mean, someone totally random that I definitely don't know and love, nailed it, wanted to help people all over duckburg, and beyond!"

"So he's a good person then? Not someone who would be upset with another superhero reaching out to him?" Jazz asked.

This little boy was clearly incapable of subterfuge, so his goodness was genuine. She could trust him as much as she could trust any other sweet ten year old.

"Oh yes! He loves when he gets to work with other heroes! He needs breaks sometimes and is happy for any help he can get."

"Is he someone that would approve of, I don't know, magic or ghosts or underaged superheroes?" Boyd smiled at her, taking her words at face value even as Danny, who had been listening carefully, shot them both incredulous looks.

"You've never met Mr. McDuck before have you? He employs Gizmoduck and he has a ghost butler! And a niece that used to be a spirit and is entirely magic. We even have an intern here who is.... I don't actually know, but he's really nice too! And as far as thinking kids can't be heroes, he wanted me to be one! And he works with Darkwing who has a sidekick that's twelve. Here at McDuck enterprises, we follow rule 53 in the Junior woodchuck guidebook! Greet the unknown with an open mind and an open heart."

"Wow. You people are basically perfect aren't you?" Danny asked sarcastically. He didn't like where Jazz was going with this and he really didn't need a little kid, who obviously couldn't lie to save his life, knowing a secret that would get Danny killed. Or, more killed, at least.

"Oh no, nothing is perfect. Even machines are flawed."

"So Boyd, tell me about Dr. Gearlose?" Jazz interrupted, a nervous lilt in her voice.

"Dr. Gearlose is amazing!" Boyd exclaimed, spinning in a circle with his arms above his head. Danny swore he saw a rainbow in the background. "It's a secret, so don't tell him please, but I like to call him Dr. Dad."

"He's your dad?"

"Well I don't exactly have a dad, but he was the one who created me so- I mean, in the way that all kids, are, created, dude?" Little bulb smacked his head, the sound of metal hitting glass was the only sound in the room as Jazz and Boyd both looked nervously at Danny, though Boyd was looking at Jazz too.

Poor, sleep deprived Danny, who had grown up with awkward Tucker as a best friend, just blinked slowly and said,

"So, are we gonna learn about any of the science stuff here or just your family?"

"Oh! Yes! Those two things are definitely separate things! Over here we have, uh, no that's for Gizmoduck, but this upgrade is-! Oh, no, that's for me, me phone! Yup. Me phone. Ha ha hahahaha. I'm a definitely real boy!!" The kid started shaking and looked so stressed.

Jazz big sister mode: activated.

"Boyd, come here." He ran to her without hesitation. She hugged him and said, "I know you're a robot-"

"He's a what?!"

"And we don't care. Do we Danny?" Jazz emphasized her messing with a sharp glare. Danny raised his hands in submission.

"Nope. Totally cool with the robot boy. I'm just surprised."

"How? How are you surprised by this? When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?"

"Oh come on, Tucker pretended he was secretly a robot for nine months when we were kids."

"You, aren't scared?" Jazz cooed and held Boyd tighter.

"How could anyone be scared of someone so sweet?!"

"A lot of people used to think I was bad, a lot of people still do. Even Dr. Gearlose was worried I was going to hurt people, that that's all I could do." This was a story Danny knew all too well. He looked away and scuffed his shoe against the floor.

"So, what changed?"

"I don't know, actually. One second my programming is being overwritten to terrorise the world, the next I'm being held." Danny moved his hands out of his pockets so he could cross his arms tightly against his chest.

"And you've never worried about, I mean, the guy's a scientist, robotics especially, aren't you worried he'll open you up one day to, to see what's inside? Or break you down for spare parts?' Boyd rubbed his chin.

"I, never thought about that before. I don't think he would, because he loves me. But maybe..." Boyd's chin started to wobble. "What, what If I disappoint him? What if I hurt somebody on accident and I'm too dangerous to be online anymore!?" Little bulb burned a bright red and shook a first at Danny.

"Woah, sorry, just um, stop that? Please? I'm sure your dad loves you too much to ever turn you off okay?" Boyd wiped at his eyes, even though he couldn't cry, and said, desperation and fear in his voice,

"I'll go ask him!" He jumped out of Jazz's arms and ran to the conference room.

"Boyd!"

When they burst into the room, Scrooge McDuck was standing on the table waving his cane in the air.

"Now see here you huanter hunting hooligans-!"

"Dr. Gearlose!" Gyro, the only person in the room that had still been sitting, bolted to his feet and caught Boyd as he jumped into his arms. Gyro instinctively cradled the boy bot and glared at the other kids. Boyd was literally vibrating. Fenton, who was already standing, watched with worried eyes. This was going to end badly.

"You. What did you do to Boyd?" He growled. Little bulb hopped from the chair to the table to Boyd and pat his little brother's head.

"Our kids didn't do anything! We've raised them to be fine upstanding citizens!" Maddy insisted.

"That's right! They know how dangerous ghosts are, don't you kids?" Danny felt all the emotions, guilt, regret, bitterness, jealousy, fear, resentment, building inside of him. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair for him to be angry because Boyd had parents who loved him no matter what. It also wasn't fair that Danny didn't. He was so tired of always being scared to go home. Of having to run away from his parents as they shot to kill or capture. If they knew what he was, Danny didn't doubt for a moment that the only reason they'd want him alive would be to dissect him. The fact that Jazz had been asking questions about the heroes here proved that she knew the same thing.

"In my experience," Danny said, voice carefully controlled, "ghosts are very dangerous." His parents looked over at the table of angry strangers victoriously. It was the proudest they'd seemed of Danny in a long time. Seeing Boyd, burying his face in his Dr Dad's chest, he felt the words coming out, and with them all the pain and resentment he'd felt for so long, all before he could try to stop it. "But so are people. In my experience."

"Danny, what are you saying?"

"And you don't just throw away a person because they cause you trouble!" He continued. Looking Boyd directly in the eyes as the younger boy had turned his head. "You don't break them down into usable parts, or molecules. Because they feel things and want things and love things! They're just like anyone else!"

"Danny, what has gotten into you?!" Danny walked right up to Boyd and said softly,

"The only people who don't believe that, they," Danny swallowed past the lump in his throat and the realization that came with saying the truth out loud. "They don't really love you." Boyd sniffed and held out a fist. Danny smirked wryly and bumped it with his own.

"What are you talking about? Ghosts don't have feelings, you know this."

"Do we though? Do we even know why they haunt people? Even if they are just, just bad, we don't have to tear them apart." He implored. This was the first time he'd contradicted his parents. This was the closest he would ever get to asking if they could really love him, spooky bits and all.

They weren't even looking at him anymore, they were holding at each other.

"He gets this from you, you know." Jack said, arms crossed.

"What?!"

"Well we Fentons sure don't have that kind of open mindedness."

"I'll say! Who's idea is it out Fenton before everything we own?!" Jack, clearly offended, raised his voice.

"It's called branding! It was your idea to bring the kids with us anyway! It'll be good for them Jack, they'll experience different cultures. Look at what cultural diversity did! It poisoned our impressionable son's mind against ghost hunting!"

"Well excuse me for wanting our children to be educated!"

Danny sighed and his shoulders slumped. His courage died inside of him.

"I was only kidding. Haha. Let's go back to Amity and live in ignorance for the rest of our lives." Jack's face lit up.

"Atta boy!"

"Honestly Jack, he's clearly lying."

"Danny wouldn't do that, we raised him better than to lie, at least to his old man."

"Kids, RV, now. Jack, we'll be discussing this later." She turned back to the scientists and said, professionally, "Thank you for your time, sorry it was a waste for us both." Boyd waved hesitantly, still sniffing,

"Bye Jazz, by Danny." Danny offered a single wave of his hands before slumping it the door. Jazz waited a moment after her parents were gone too. She hurried and took the card she'd made for just this purpose and handed it quickly to Boyd.

"See you soon." She whispered. She was almost at the door when Jack poked his head back in.

"Come on Jazz, we don't need these ghost-lovers."

"Coming dad." Just like that the Fenton family was gone. Scrooge, still standing on top of the table, summed up the feelings of the group pretty well.

"What in dismal downs just happened here?!"

#ducktales #danny phantom #danny fenton #darkwing duck #gizmoduck #crossover #scrooge mcduck #Boyd #jazz fenton #jack fenton #maddy fenton #fenton cracshell cabrera #dr dad #Manny the man horse #gyro Gearlose

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darks-ink · 5 years ago

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Pulse - Ectoberweek 2020

Another day, another AU from my ideas file. Warning for general Accident-related spookiness. Also look it’s the fic where I let my followers decide if I was gonna write Tucker POV or Sam POV.

Rating: Gen Warnings: - Genre: Friendship Words: 2,395 Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Ghosts

[AO3] [FFN]

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“So,” Tucker said, before falling silent. Hoped to prompt one of the others into speaking up instead.

“So,” Danny echoed. “What happened?”

“Why are you asking us?” Tucker flailed upright so he could look at Danny. “You’re the one who went into the Portal!”

“Well, yeah, but—” He gestured vaguely. “You two are acting weird. What happened after the Portal turned on?”

“What, you don’t remember?” Sam leaned forward, frowning at Danny.

Danny scoffed. “Obviously not.”

How could he not remember? That he’d come out of the Portal looking like he’d died, like the perfect image of a ghost? “Dude, you’re joking, right? How could you not have noticed?”

“Noticed what? Come on, just tell me!”

“He really doesn’t remember.” Sam reached over to tug on Tucker’s leg. “Tuck, what if it’s like a possession thing?”

“It’s not a possession thing,” Tucker dismissed immediately. “What kinda possession would change the host into a ghost as well. It’s just…” He trailed off.

Danny made a face. “I don’t think I like where this is heading. What do you guys mean, a possession thing? What happened, seriously?”

Honestly, Tucker didn’t think he could explain. And based on the look Sam was throwing him, neither could she. Still, he cleared his throat and tried. “Well, it was just… weird, y’know? When you came out of the Portal. You weren’t really yourself.”

“Your colors were all weird,” Sam continued at Danny’s quirked eyebrow. “Your suit had gone black with white gloves, your hair was crazy pale, and your eyes had gone green. And,” she flapped her hand, “there was also the fact that you glowed.”

“I… glowed?” Danny repeated, slowly and questioningly. “What, like a ghost?”

“Exactly like a ghost,” Tucker confirmed, crossing his arms and staring at Danny. He looked just like he always did. Warm and fleshy and not at all like what they’d seen just before. “And the way you were looking at us, you’d think that you didn’t recognize us. Either of us.”

“Weird.” Danny frowned, one hand closing around the wrist of the other. Almost like a nervous gesture, except one that Danny had never shown before. “I don’t… remember any of that. But clearly it went away. Right?”

“Yeah, no, exactly.” Tucker nodded quickly, uncrossing his arms so he could mimic an explosion. “There was a flash of light and then suddenly, there you were again. Back to normal.”

Danny hummed. “I… think I remember the flash of light? Maybe. But I thought it was the after-effects of the Portal.”

“Who knows, maybe it was.” Tucker shrugged, mentally crossing his fingers and hoping to god it was. “A one-off caused by the ectoplasmic exposure, or whatever.”

“We’ll need to keep an eye on it anyway,” Sam pointed out, shifting her eyes from Tucker back to Danny. “It might not happen again, but we don’t know what that was, let alone what kind of effects it might’ve had.”

“Right.” Danny nodded, once, strongly. “You two are here for the rest of the weekend anyway. We’ll see after that.”

---

The rest of the day passed by normally, and briefly, Tucker entertained the hope that it really had been a one-off. But during the night he woke to a bright flash of light, and lo and behold, there was the ghostly version of Danny again.

“Man, really,” he grumbled, rubbing the heel of his hand over his eyes to try and get the grit out. “You’re bright as hell, dude, couldn’t you have done this during the day?”

Danny’s glow brightened in response, his vivid green eyes narrowing in a frown. “I’m sorry?”

“Sure don’t sound very sorry.” And he didn’t. Mostly, he just sounded very confused. “Go wake up Sam, will you? If I’m suffering we all are.”

A slow, almost deliberate blink was his response, before Danny turned away to look at Sam. He shifted closer, his gaze wandering back to Tucker. Then, still watching Tucker, Danny stretched out his leg and kicked Sam in the shoulder.

Sam grunted, hand swatting at Danny’s leg. “I will kill you.”

“Um,” Danny said, pulling his leg back towards himself. And then continued pulling himself away from Sam, actually lifting off of his bed entirely, until he floated a foot or so above it.

“If you fall I’m not gonna catch you, dude,” Tucker told him, even though he probably would try to catch him, if Danny had gone high enough that he might hurt himself. Still, he didn’t need to know that. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Yeah?” Danny turned to frown at him again. “Yeah, definitely.” He sounded plenty convinced, too.

Didn’t sound nearly as confident when Sam grabbed his arm suddenly, lunging up from the floor where she had been lying. Danny yelped, tugging himself free with a bout of something which Tucker was sure was ghostly intangibility.

“Alright, that’s cheating,” Sam claimed, opening her hand, still holding it out in Danny’s direction. “Give me your hand.”

“Why?” he asked her, slowly moving the hand back in her direction, eyes narrowed. They glowed brightly in the dark of the room. “What’re you gonna do?”

She snatched his hand up, fingers burrowing past the hem of his white glove. “Checking something.”

Oh. She was… oh.

“No pulse,” she reported, before moving her fingers to tug on the edge of Danny’s glove. “And this seems to be part of his body.”

“Well,” Tucker said, before pausing to swallow past the block in his throat. “I guess his pulse will come back when he goes back to normal? He seems pretty ghostly right now.”

Sam hummed, pinching the sleeve of Danny’s jumpsuit, ignoring the look Danny was throwing her way. “The clothes is a ghost thing too, I think. The Fentons always claimed that their shapes were simple and only had one layer, or something like that.”

“Right, yeah, I remember that.” Maybe they should’ve looked into the whole ghost thing a little more. Danny was looking very much like a ghost right now, and Tucker kinda wished he knew more.

Like if his friend was gonna be okay.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” Danny said, flat and a little hopelessly. He jangled the arm Sam was holding, but didn’t seem very intent on throwing her off.

“Welcome to the club,” she said with a snort, pinching him again. “You don’t feel this?”

“No?” Danny frowned at her, utter confusion clear on his face. “Am I supposed to?”

“Something here seems weird,” Tucker commented. He paused. “Weirder than it already was. Danny, man, what is up with you?”

“Who, me?” Danny asked, twisting around to look at Tucker again. “I really don’t know what’s happening.”

Sam paused, releasing her pinching grip but still holding on to Danny’s arm. “Danny, what are you saying?”

“Danny?” he repeated, tone questioning. “Why are you calling me that?”

Tucker felt his heart stop. He stared at Danny, incredulously, but there wasn’t even the slightest hint of joking.

“Because… it’s your name?” he managed, feebly, not looking away from Danny. “You’re our best friend, Danny Fenton. Don’t you remember?”

The ghost of his best friend blinked at him, then at Sam. “I… no? I don’t remember anything.”

“Sooo… About the Fenton’s theory that ghosts don’t remember anything,” Sam said, voice quiet. Uncharacteristically shaken. “I mean… Before, Danny didn’t remember this either. It’s like… two separate states?”

“Oh, yeah, I remember now!” Danny exclaimed, still looking at Sam. “I saw you two earlier, briefly! But then light flashed, and now I’m here.” He looked around, curiously. “Where is here?”

Well, way to drive the point home, buddy. “Okay, so. The accident made it so that he’s, what, both human and ghost, and the two states just kind of switch around? Fuck, Sam.”

“I know,” she hissed back, cautiously releasing Danny’s arm. “Stay in your room, okay Danny?” Seeing him frown, she added, “That’s this room. Stay in this room, okay?”

“Sure,” he agreed easily, floating off to peer at some of the decorations Danny had in his room.

“Do you think we should tell his parents?” Tucker asked, scooting closer to Sam, keeping an eye on Danny. Or, Danny’s ghost, he supposed, since they apparently weren’t the same person. “I mean, if this starts happening more… He won’t be able to recognize them, or convince them of being Danny.”

Sam made a face. “Yeah, but… I dunno, Tuck, what if they try to hurt him? Experiment on him?”

They watched Danny poke around in his own room for a moment. Quietly, Sam continued, “Maybe he can hold it off. He didn’t shift until now, right? Maybe Danny’s control slipped while he was asleep. If we tell him to be careful he’ll stay out of trouble, right?”

“I don’t know, Sam.” Tucker sighed, deeply and wearily. “I really don’t know. Man, we’re just fourteen. Why are we dealing with this kinda stuff?” He looked over at Sam’s stricken face. “I mean— It’s not our fault. It’s not anyone’s fault, okay? Don’t blame yourself. We couldn’t have known.”

“Yeah, but—”

“No, Sam. Either everyone’s to blame for this, or no one is.” He pointed at Danny’s ghost, who was now trying to peel off one of the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. “He could’ve refused to go in. I could’ve stopped him. His parents could’ve done a better job of locking up the lab, or the Portal, or anything. This isn’t just your fault, okay? Stop blaming yourself.”

Sam hummed, a disbelieving sound, but she didn’t protest, so Tucker would consider it a win.

Silence fell again as they watched the ghost frown at the sticky star on his hand. Then, almost hesitantly, he stuck the star to his chest.

“Man,” Tucker said, then paused when he realized he didn’t know where he’d been going with that sentence.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed quietly. Then, raising her voice some, she called over to Danny. “Hey, aren’t you tired or something? Let’s go to sleep, Danny.”

Again, bright green eyes turned to them. “I’m not tired,” he said simply. “Ghosts don’t sleep.” Then he frowned, and added, “I thought I wasn’t Danny? Not really?”

“Sorta kinda.” Tucker shrugged. “You’re like, his ghost, I guess? You don’t want to be Danny?”

“Seems confusing,” the ghost admitted, lowering himself until he floated at eye level to them. “He was Danny first, right? And I’m just his ghost. So I could be like… Phantom, or something.”

“Phantom,” Tucker echoed, dryly. “You really want to go by a synonym of ghost?”

The ghost in question shrugged. “Why not? And you said my—his—last name was Fenton, yeah? So it’s kind of a pun.”

Tucker groaned, even as Sam laughed, softly. “I should’ve figured, man. Your love for puns is immortal and undying.”

Phantom grinned at him, revealing green gums and pointed fangs, which Tucker somehow hadn’t noticed before. “Well, something had to carry over, yeah?”

“I guess,” Tucker agreed, sounding much more disgruntled than he felt. It was weird, yes, but it was also kinda nice, to see a little more Danny in Phantom. “Look, you might not need sleep because you’re a ghost, but Sam and I do. Can we trust you to stay in this room and out of trouble?”

“Of course,” Phantom immediately assured him, before pausing. “Um. What constitutes as trouble, exactly?”

“Staying in this room should be good enough for now,” Sam said, gesturing around them. “But if anyone who isn’t us comes in, or knocks… I dunno, hide? Go invisible, maybe, if you can maintain it for long enough.”

“Your parents are ghost hunters. If they see you, they’ll probably try to hurt you,” Tucker tagged on. “You look just like Danny, but they’re not gonna stop and consider that, especially if you won’t have his memories to convince them.”

Phantom’s expression grew serious, and he nodded. “Got it. Stay here, stay out of sight.”

“Try not to be too loud, as well. Making a lot of noise will probably lead to them coming here to make sure we’re doing alright.” Sam narrowed her eyes. “And we’ll be trying to sleep, and loud noises don’t help with that.”

He nodded again. “Stay here, stay out of sight, don’t be loud. Anything else?”

“If you think you’re gonna switch back to Danny, maybe try to get yourself back to the bed? But other than that, no, I guess that that’s it.” Tucker sighed, sitting down on his pile of blankets. “Good night, Phantom.”

“Good night, Tucker, Sam,” he replied, floating away a little but not taking his eyes off of them. Apparently he was curious to see what sleep meant. Great. Brilliant.

Tucker shook his head, tucking himself back into his nest of blankets. From where he laid, he could see Sam do the same.

When they both remained still for a while, Phantom lost interest, going back to checking out the room. His room.

Through squinted eyes, Tucker watched him. Phantom hadn’t even noticed that he hadn’t taken off his glasses. Didn’t know the importance of it, probably.

On the other side of the room, Tucker could see Sam watching as well. They both knew damn well that they wouldn’t get a minute of sleep, not while Danny was… not Danny. While Phantom was around.

Tucker wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting from Phantom. He seemed to follow the Fentons’ ghost rules pretty closely, except he didn’t appear malevolent in the least. Even while he thought that no one was watching him, he did as had been asked: remained in the room, remained quiet.

Admittedly he didn’t do a great job of getting himself back to the bed when he shifted back, because light flashed and Danny Fenton collapsed onto the floor with an uncomfortably loud thud, but, well. He might not have noticed it was coming.

Tucker exchanged a grimace with Sam, then both of them got up to check over their best friend. Danny was fast asleep, grumbling under his breath when they nudged him. He would probably have a bruise from the landing, but hey. Could’ve been worse.

Wrapping his fingers around Danny’s ankles, Tucker watched Sam grab Danny’s wrists, and they lifted him back to the bed. And when they stepped away, Sam nodded at him, and said, quietly, “He’s got a pulse.”

Well. Tucker certainly slept better afterwards.

#danny phantom #ectoberweek2020 #dp fanfic #phanfic #phic #dark writes #someone plz confirm for me whether these are appearing in the tags properly or not #i assume it's working but you never know with this website

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anothersadsimp · 4 years ago

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Hidden Feelings

Dan Torrance x Reader

Words: Almost 2k

Request: Hey! Could I request a Danny fic where the reader also has the shining (maybe not to the extent Danny does simply because of youth and inexperience) and has a crush on him but is in college so there’s a significant age gap and she doesn’t want to disturb the dynamic going on between her Abra and Danny so she just likes him from a distance thinking he’ll never reciprocate. Then Abra decides to tell Danny ab the readers crush?

A/N: Wowee I forgot what it’s like to write..... THAT WAS FUN! Also hooray for my first ~official~ request

In your life you never thought you’d have a mysterious pen pal that “magically” communicated with you. Not to mention one that was significantly younger than you, and yet she was one of the only people who understood you the most. Even if you haven’t seen each other face to face.

After high school you took a year off to be able to move into the right place for you to start college. You found a cheap little studio apartment, and found a steady job in a cozy little town. Even if you were alone, you never really felt that way. You always had Abra to talk to, and always made sure she was on track herself.

You were up late working on an assignment one night, when you got a heavy uneasy feeling. You turned your music down and looked around your little apartment, feeling like you were in danger in some way. You looked around and listened to the eerie silence radiate around you, trying to spot if there was some sort of intruder. You turned back to your laptop to try to focus on your work, hoping it was just your anxiety and not your “special abilities”. A few seconds after you get back to work a bang sounded through the apartment startling you from your work. You whip your head around to see a little wooden coffee table you had was turned to the side, the word “murder” scratched on to the face of it. Panic started flowing through you, it had to be from Abra. You reached out to her to make sure she was ok, and started packing an overnight bag. The uneasy feeling you had never quite subsided even after being reassured that your friend herself was safe.

In your anxiety, and insomnia induced state you drove. You didn’t have a destination in mind, but you just had to get out of your tiny apartment after what had happened. You ended up driving hours arriving at a small quaint little town, smaller than the one you lived in. The streets were lined with some older looking buildings, and in the center of it all was a smaller version of the already tiny town. As you drove around, a feeling of ease and comfort washed over you. That's when you decided this is where you’ll find a little motel and stay for the night.

That one night turned into a few nights in the small town. You were walking around “Teeny Town” when you felt it. A sweet, harmless presence that seemed familiar. When you turned you saw a girl staring at you, and then her voice sounded in your head. On instinct you ran over to hug her and check to see if she was hurt from last night, even if this was the first time you’re meeting her. She told me how she came to find her other friend Dan, not exactly expecting to find you there as well. She pointed to the train where a man was opening the little doors of the train, and that warm comforting feeling came back.

Abra had explained what happened the night before, she had come to ask Dan for help. Dan wasn’t too keen on her idea of investigating, and told her to keep her head down. Dan got up to leave, and you watched in disbelief on how he could just let this girl live in possible danger. You told her to wait on the bench, wanting to give her a safe ride home as you got up after him. It was a funny sight really, seeing this young college kid no one has ever seen scold an older man who drives a train. After you had gotten your point across you turn back to take Abra home safe, and make sure she is ok. Dan would never admit it, but he admired how you just stood up to a complete stranger.

A failed plan, and a burning hotel later you were all outside in the snow watching the Overlook turn to embers. You don’t think anyone really knows what happened. One moment Dan was trying to kill Abra and then you came to the rescue. You told Abra to run and wait outside as you helped Dan. You don’t know how but it was as if you had taken all of his demons from his head. You saw every one that had tormented him since he was a boy and took them to add to your own. You managed to catch him in his arms and stumble out right as the entryway crashed to the ground.

The recovery was hard on everyone. Abra lost her dad, and her mom wasn’t sure what really happened. Dan lost his best friend, and you had so many more things inside your mind that you had to control. But all of you somehow found a new normal to live in.

You moved closer, into the same town as Dan, scared that something else might happen to Abra. Not only that but you and Dan had gotten closer, somehow becoming friends. You found that helping around Teeny Town often quieted down your mind, and got a job at a small coffee shop.

You often visited Abra and her mother on the weekends, wanting to do anything you can for the grieving family. Abra’s mother was grateful, and trusted you enough to let Abra stay at your place when she was out of town.

Abra found out pretty quickly that something between you and Dan had changed. You slowly became softer around him, and it was hard to not miss the way he looked at you. She hated watching you both dance around each other.

You and Abra were listening to music and coloring in some of your books one night when she finally decided to confront you about it. It was quiet and cozy with fairy lights on and some steaming cups of hot chocolate in front of you when she asked.

“So when are you going to ask Uncle Dan out?”

Your eyes widen as you turn to her, dropping the colored pencil you were using onto your book. She continues coloring her page with a horse on it as if nothing happened.

“What?” Your voice comes out unsteady from confusion and nerves.

She looks up at you stopping for a second. “When are you and Uncle Dan finally gonna get together?”

You give an unconvincing chuckle, “Abra I-I don’t know what you're talking about.”

“Come on. I know you like him, and he likes you too. I’m tired of watching you two be hopeless for each other.” She explains.

“Yes I like him,” you sigh, “but nothing is going to happen.”

“Why?” It’s blunt, and you can tell she’s not going to believe you either way.

“Cause I’m too young. I’m still in school, Abra. He deserves someone better, and I don’t want to mess anything up. He already hated me when we first met.” You try joking at the end, not wanting to get too serious.

“Well, he likes you.” She goes back to coloring, as if the words she's said don't rock your entire world.

You decide that there was no fighting her, Abra though sweet as can be is one stubborn girl. You’re not quite sure when Abra had talked to Dan about the feelings lingering in the air between you two, but that led to quite the awkward conversation for when you got back after dropping her home.

Dan had come over later that night for pizza and movies wanting to finally relax after a stressful day at Teeny Town. He made his way over to the couch plopping himself down as you went to go grab him a soda. You came back and handed the cold beverage to him and sat down on the other end of the couch. It took a minute to realize he is a little more rigid than usual.

“Hey what's wrong? You seem tense.” You ask.

He turns to you with a soft look in his eyes, “N-no I’m good. Just a lot on my mind today.”

“Wanna talk about it?” You offer, wanting to ease his burdon.

“Abra had told me something over the weekend that just hasn't left my head.” He says this in a breathless, fake chuckle.

“What’d she say to you?” Your brow furrow, genuinely curious as to what she said to make Dan this shook.

“She said something about how I- I should do something about how I feel, and how things wont go as bad as I think they will.” He explains.

“Well, I think she’s right.” You pull your legs up and face him, back resting against the armrest of the couch. “Clearly your feelings are really bothering you, and it’s not the end of the world if something goes wrong. Even if the world does end, you still have me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your head is now leaning on the back of the couch, your eyes soft and sincere. The sight of you like that makes him weak. He knows logically you wouldn’t disregard his feelings, or hurt him intentionally in any way. So he confesses. The sweet way you look at him, and the sweet words broke him down. If he wasn’t as tired and vulnerable as he was now he never would have said it out loud.

“The thing is,” He pauses, looking down in hesitation,” my feelings are about you.” He meets your eyes at the last part, anxiety contrasting his calming blue hues.

“A-About me?” You’re starting to panic, thinking you had done something wrong.

“Yeah, about how I like you. As in more than a friend.” He’s nervous, messing with his hands and barley making eye contact with you.

You’re blushing, shocked and frozen in place. The man you fell in love with just admitted he likes you.

“Well it’s a good thing I like you too, as in more than a friend.” You throw his words back at him, teasing him just a bit.

“What? Don’t you think I’m a little old?” It’s almost as if he’s trying to find a reason to not be with you, he wants you to have better.

“Aren’t I a little young?” You throw back smugly.

He chuckles at your teasing, and looks back up at you. You’re hugging a pillow to your chest, clearly from anxiety, and the bottom half of your face is hidden in it. He can tell you're smiling in it from the roundness of your cheeks, and it causes him to smile back at you.

“So can I kiss you now or…?” You trail off at the end, smile never leaving your face.

Dan now feeling better and bolder scooches over to remove the pillow from your arms. He throws it behind him and leans down cupping your face to pull it towards his. Your eyes close as you finally meet him in the middle. Your hand comes up to his jaw, enjoying the feeling of him so close to you and the stubble under your fingers. When you pull back your eyes stay closed for another minute and when you open them he’s smiling at you before asking a question.

“So, how about that movie?”

#doctor sleep #doctor sleep imagine #doctor sleep fluff #Danny Torrance #danny torrance x reader #dan torrance #dan torrance imagine #dan torrance x reader #ewan mcgregor x reader #Ewan McGregor imagine

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