#near clark property

[realtyhubph-blog]

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[five-rivers]

One day Danny comes home to his parents having tea with clockwork

I rather liked this. Here's the AO3, and I might continue it later.

.

Oh, of course Clockwork didn't look like Clockwork. That is, he looked like himself, or else Danny wouldn't have recognized him, but he didn't look like a ghost, or else Danny was sure the scene wouldn't be nearly as peaceful - or unbelievable - as it was.

He blinked a few times. Hard. The scene didn't change. Clockwork - or Clockwork's human twin - was sitting at the kitchen table with Danny's parents. Sipping tea.

Danny hadn't even known they had tea in the house.

As Danny stared, Clockwork met Danny's eyes and winked. Neither Maddie nor Jack, who was enthusiastically describing their latest ghost capturing invention (something to do with a modified leaf blower), noticed. So. Clockwork. Not Clockwork's twin.

What was happening? What was happening right now? Why was Clockwork here? Had Danny screwed over the timeline somehow? And if he had, why wasn't Clockwork just grabbing future versions of Danny's enemies to assassinate him again? Why was he talking to Danny's parents? In a human disguise of all things?

Thinking about it made Danny's palms itch and his heart speed up, and he wasn't the best at being subtle when he was anxious.

"Uh, hi," he said, loudly, putting on just a touch of teenage lackadaisical spin, "who are you?"

"Oh, Danny!" said Maddie. "You're home early."

Danny winced. He got detention often enough that his parents usually didn't expect Danny home for another hour. The ghost fighting didn't help, either. Of course, the ghost fighting was why he got so many detentions. That and stuffing Dash's locker full of FentonWipe. And being associated with Sam. He had to admit that was also a significant contributor to his detention time.

What had he been thinking of again?

Rather, what had he been avoiding thinking of again?

Right. Clockwork. His parents. Tea. His future doom. The potential end of the world, as initiated by him, personally.

“Uh, yeah,” said Danny.  “I guess I am.  But…” He tried to gesture at Clockwork without pointing, which was rude enough that Maddie would comment.  

“I was just describing our new Fenton Blow design to our new neighbor, Clark!  Two new things at once!  It’s like it’s double new!”  Jack jumped up and picked up Clockwork’s chair so he could turn it to face Danny.  Clockwork continued to calmly hold his tea throughout the motion.  

“Neighbor?” squeaked Danny.  

Something that had been constant at FentonWorks for as long as Danny could remember was that it didn’t have neighbors.  The properties adjacent to FentonWorks weren’t empty, exactly, but people didn’t live there.  One was a vacation rental that saw the most traffic during Halloween.  The building on the other side was a community store where people in the area sold things they’d made.  And the back lot was split between a haunted house attraction and a rare permanent Spirit Halloween store.  

FentonWorks was maybe a bit of a tourist destination.  But it wasn’t as if normal, sane people would live anywhere near FentonWorks.  

Clockwork was neither normal nor sane.  Obviously.  Still, even he had to hesitate at being next to Danny’s parents.  

What property had he bought, anyway?  It wasn’t like there were a lot of options.  

Danny would not be able to cope if he’d bought the haunted house.  

Why was he here?

“Yes,” said Maddie, “he bought the place behind us.  The costume store.  We were talking about how he could make the costumes more accurate.”

Clockwork cleared his throat.  “Assuming that I will continue to manage the franchise is somewhat premature, but your work is truly fascinating.”

Maddie smiled.  “Oh, you’re a charmer.”

Jack laughed as well.  “Almost as smooth as Vladdie used to be, huh?”  He patted Clockwork on the shoulder.  “Good times, good times!  We’re going to have a lot of fun!”

Oh god, were they flirting?  Danny was glad he didn’t have a much of a gag reflex since half-dying.  

“If you aren’t going to be running the Spirit store, what are you going to do?”

“Previously, I owned and managed an antique store.  Worthy Antiques.”  A small smile playing around his lips, he took another sip of tea.  

“From his name!” said Jack.  “Clark Worth!  Isn’t that clever?”

Danny knew he didn’t have any room to talk about pseudonyms, but that was… Wow.  That was blatant.  Of course, the whole thing was blatant.  Still.  

“Sell many clocks?” Danny asked, because he was an idiot and had some sort of death wish.  

“A few,” said Clockwork.  “People do seem to like antique clocks.”  

“Why move to Amity Park?” asked Danny, taking a few steps over to the table so he could stand between Clockwork and his parents.  Was the gesture futile?  Yep.  Was he doing it anyway?  Yep.  

“Issues with the local government.  You seem to have it handled quite nicely here.”

“That’s true!” said Jack.  “We’ve got the government in the bag down here!”

“Yes, we’ll have to show you what they did when they hit us with zoning complaints of all things,” said Maddie.  

Danny was not hearing this.  He wasn’t here.  This was some kind of impossible fugue state.  Or a hallucination.  Or a dream.  It could be Nocturne.  It wasn’t like he was above using people’s fears, conscious or otherwise, to mess with them.  

But, if he could put his parents being weird aside (a task difficult bordering on impossible), then what did Clockwork mean by local government?  Walker?  Pariah Dark?  Could Danny even take Clockwork’s words as an analogy?  He could just lie.  It wasn’t as if ghosts were bound to be honest.  

“It is time for me to go now, unfortunately.  Thank you for the company and the excellent tea.”

“No problem!” said Jack.  “We didn’t even know we had it!”

“Feel free to drop by any time, it was lovely to have you over,” said Maddie, reaching over to Clockwork’s hands.  

“That’s very gracious of you.  Allow me to extend the same invitation to you and your family,” said Clockwork.  He stood up, raising the empty teacup towards Danny in a sort of toast before putting it back down.  “It was wonderful to meet you as well, Daniel.”

“Yeah,” said Danny.  Then, grudgingly, “You, too.  I can show you out.”

“No need,” said Clockwork.  “I know the way.”  He gave them all a short, shallow bow, then left.  

Danny looked at his parents. 

“Wow!  What a great guy!” said Jack, planting his hands on his hips.  “Hope his business works out!”

“Twenty percent of new businesses fail in the first two years,” said Maddie.  

“But he’s got experience,” argued Jack.  “And, who knows, maybe we’ll be customers!  Lots of haunted antiques out there, huh?”

“Yes… I wonder… Could we modify the Fenton Finder to determine what kinds of objects are most likely to be haunted…”

Before Danny could get sucked into whatever antique-related discussion his parents were about to have, he slipped away up the stairs.  He needed backup for this.  Lots of backup.  

.

“I’m sorry,” said Sam over the phone.  “Who?”

“Clockwork,” said Danny.  “You know, the one who sent us into the messed up future where I was evil and you were dead.”

“His name was Clockwork?”

“Yeah?  Did you–  Did you not know that?”

“I’ve got him down in my book as Clockstopper,” added Jazz, helpfully.  

“Isn’t that, like, a movie?” asked Tucker, fiddling with his PDA.  “With a kid who can stop time?”

“It’s the watch that can stop time,” said Danny, distractedly.  “Did I not tell you his name?  I’m sure I told you his name.”

“Didn’t we lose half a day of time in there where we all died again?” asked Tucker.  “I remember something about that.”

How did Danny tell them about that and not Clockwork’s name?  Seriously.  He had to get his priorities right.  And figure out how not to break down and spill potentially traumatizing information whenever Sam and Tucker prodded him even a little.  

(Was it a response to keeping a million secrets from everyone else?  Probably.  But lying had been invented for a reason.  A million reasons.  And one of them was not traumatizing your friends.)

He rubbed his face.  “Okay, so, the guy’s name is Clockwork.  Clockwork.  Not Clockstopper.  He’s the Master of Time.  He actually helped me once, when Vlad gave you two ecto-acne.  Well.”  His expression pinched inward.  “Sort of.”

“What do you mean, ‘sort of?’” asked Sam, leaning forward.  

“He, uh.  Kind of unpersoned me.  Or let me unperson myself.  I’m… Yeah.  Okay.  More the second one.  But he sent me off to do it.  I’m actually not clear on how he undid it…  What?”

“You know,” said Tucker, who was now looking up from his PDA, “I didn’t really question it when you brought back the cure at the time, but I really should have, huh…”

“Yeah, you’re going to have to run through how you got unpersoned,” said Sam.  

“What do you even mean by unpersoned?” said Jazz, concerned.  “Like in 1984?”

“Uh,” said Danny.  “I never read that.  Does it involve time travel?”

“Danny…”

“He’s dodging the question,” said Tucker.  “What did you do, Danny?”

Danny squirmed.  “We’re talking about why he’s here.”

“A conversation that would be much improved by telling us about your past interactions with him,” said Jazz.  She had produced a pen and notebook from somewhere.  

“I barely interacted with him that time.  We were only in the same room for, like, ten minutes, total.  The part where I was the subject of a ‘would you murder baby Hitler’ question is much more relevant.”

“Actually, why didn’t Clockwork murder baby Hitler?” said Sam, somewhat indignant.  “Actual baby Hitler.  Not Danny.”

“He didn’t kill me, anyway, and future me wrecked the entire planet, as far as I could–”

“Wait, wait,” said Jazz.  “I’m still writing this down.”

“You don’t need to write this down.”

“Don’t worry, I’m doing it in code.  Basically unbreakable.  Just a minute…”  She licked her lips, then, slowly, sounding out the words, she said, “Time… master…”

“Clockwork.  His name is Clockwork.  Why are you like this?”

“I think it’s just how siblings are,” said Sam.  

“You’re an only child,” Tucker pointed out.  “What would you know?”

“I’ve watched my cousins.  It’s basically the same.”

“That’s completely different,” said Tucker.  

“Okay, okay,” said Danny.  “I thought that maybe if Vlad had never become a half ghost, then he’d never have gotten ecto-acne, and he wouldn’t have wanted to give you guys ecto-acne.  Or have even been able to.  So I asked Clockwork to send me back to his accident and pushed him out of the way.”

“And then the butterfly effect meant that you were never born?” asked Sam.  “Actually, no one born after that would have been the same as the people who were born after it in this world…  Would they?”

Danny shrugged.  “I didn’t really look into that, to be honest.  I was kind of distracted by, uh.  Dad having gotten hit instead.  I didn’t really realize…  Mom and Dad were like right behind him.”

Jazz looked up at him in horror.  

“It didn’t actually happen,” said Danny.  “Or, uh, it hasn’t’ve happened now?”  What tense what he even supposed to use here?

“No, no, it isn’t that,” said Jazz.  “It’s just that they had no lab safety even in college.  It’s a miracle they’re still alive.  But does that mean Dad was a half ghost?”

“Yeah.”

“And how did Mom take that?”

“Not sure, actually.  They were kind of.  Not married.”  He waited for Jazz to flip out.  She’d freaked badly enough when it just looked like they might get a divorce.

Instead, she just nodded.  “That makes sense,” she said.  

“It does?” 

“Yeah, Dad’s socially awkward enough to begin with.  If he was isolated the same way Vlad was when he was sick, there’s no way he’d be able to keep up a relationship.  I don’t think they were even dating at that point.”

“Right, well, anyway, after I figured that out, I knew I had to undo it.  A bunch of stuff happened, but I eventually got back to Clockwork and he reset it.  So that’s it.  Whole story.  Can we get back on topic?”

“Pretty sure you're lying, but whatever,” said Sam.  “But what do you expect us to do in this situation?  It kind of feels like he could just wave his hands and… poof.”

“Yeah, he was definitely not trying in that fight,” added Tucker.  

Way to be supportive, guys.  Jeez.  “I'm not going to fight him.”

“Good, if you were, I'd be asking Jazz to check you for a concussion.”

“I just want to know what he wants.  Like, if he's here because I've screwed up the timeline again or what.  But the guy talks in riddles - not literal riddles.”  Danny just knew Jazz would start calling him Riddle Master or something if Danny didn't clear that up fast.  “But he doesn't give straight answers.”

“At least we know he's not homophobic.”

“Tucker, that joke was only funny the first ten times.”

“It's always funny.”

Sam cleared her throat.  “And is that something we can do something about?”

“Yeah.  Sort of, anyway.  It's just… I know what my life is like.  I know what I’m like.  If I go talk to him alone, I’ll miss something or say something stupid.  But you guys actually pay attention to stuff.  You think about things.  I need you to come with me so I don’t say something sarcastic and wind up on a cross-time road trip to learn about the importance of customer service.”

“If we could stop you from saying dumb things, you’d have a lot less detentions,” said Sam.  

“So you’re going to abandon me?  Your best friend?  To a ghost who’s beaten him up before?”

Sam rolled her eyes.  “Don’t be so dramatic.  I didn’t say I wouldn’t go with you.  I’m just pointing out that you’ll have to put in a little effort if you want us to be your time ghost lawyers or interpreters or whatever.”

“I will!  That’s why I want you to come with me.”

“Well, I’ll come with you, at least,” said Jazz.  “I want to know more about this Clockstopper.”

Danny squinted at him.  “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“I’ll come with you, too,” said Tucker.  “But if we wind up on a customer service road trip, I will be blaming you.”

“Well, yeah,” said Danny.  “That’s a given.”

“I can’t go tonight,” said Sam.  “Family dinner.  Tomorrow?  Right after Danny gets out of detention?”

“You don’t know I’ll have detention tomorrow.  I haven’t gotten one yet.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” said Sam.  

[creativeashproductions]

Murder Mysteries and Afterlife Businesses // Wally Clark

IN WHICH: Maddie Nears is unaware of one ghost at Split River High School with the connections to help after dead end after dead end. The issue? Well the reader hasn’t stepped in the school since 2013 due to a certain dead jock.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, mention of murder, ghosts and some fluff

Words: 2.7k

A/N: Reader’s nickname is Renaissance since she’s an artist! Renai is pronounced Ren-ah. Reader is a twin!

I could be persuaded to make a part 2 (or more parts).

Masterlist | Next Part

The frustration of dead ends for the mystery behind Maddie was driving her crazy. The inability to leave the school property left Maddie placing a lot of trust and lack of control in other people’s hands. And most of the ones involved had no clue Maddie was wandering the school in the afterlife. And Maddie thus far only trusted 25% of the Scooby Gang attempting to get answers.

There was really only one person in the afterlife with better ways of providing new avenues of searching. But it’s difficult when a metaphorical cavern between two ghosts prevents it.

“Well, Cherrypop, if you want the behind-the-scenes exclusive, maybe you should visit Wally’s girlfriend.” Rhonda’s lips were twisted in a smirk. Her beret sitting prettily on her curls.

Maddie’s blue eyes fled one ghost for the one shifting on his chair in the library space. The support group ended thirty minutes ago, but Maddie needed more information.

“Girl-“

“Rhonda, seriously.” Wally groaned, flopping back on the couch and staring up at the speckles of some mysterious substance on the ceiling, “We’re on a break.”

“For the last ten years.” Charley supplied, flinching when Wally pinched his leg.

Wally’s mouth opened to reply before closing, “She doesn’t want to speak to me.”

Once upon a time, Split River High School had a bludgeoning art studio and an excellent program. You dabbled in many different art forms, but following an unfortunate fire, the program perished, along with the studio and you. The school had rebuilt the studio with better fire-resistant products and attempted to revive the program. It failed ultimately. Even the art scene didn’t want to work in the same building where two students and a teacher had perished. So the program was shifted to a wing inside the school.

Out of sheer surprise, the building was sealed off and avoided by everyone but the janitor.

You and Brady had built a moderately successful afterlife business creating different objects. Then, you were commissioned by the fellow dead to make blankets and pottery around the holidays and birthdays. You barely left the studio, and then you met Wally.

Split River High School, 2010

Your face glanced down at the watch on your wrist before shifting the blanket in your arms around. You were running behind delivering the blanket to Mina. How humourous that even in death, you were always running late.

Typically Brady was the one to deliver items while you stayed in the art studio working. But, unfortunately, the delivery date for Mina fell on the annual day he deemed his ‘day off’ to mourn his life.

And to think you were the theatre kid with how dramatic he could be.

“Why the hell do I need to deliver this. Mina barely likes me and- OH!” You exclaimed, slamming into the linoleum ground.

“Shit!”

You grunted when a body fell right onto your body, “Jesus, dude!”

The other person rolled off to stare at the ceiling in pain. His eyes scrunched closed and curled in the fetal position.

“Watch where you’re going, meathead!” You exclaimed, sitting up to grab the blanket lying on the ground. You didn’t give the guy another glance while you carefully folded the blanket back up and fixed the card on top.

“I’m dead. Why does getting kneeled in the balls still hurt?” He wheezed, slowly rolling to sit up. You knew even with him sitting, he was tall and a jock, given the varsity jacket he wore bearing the older mascot the school retired years ago.

“God, I am so giving Brady garbage duty for the next month!” You huffed, turning to look him in the face properly, “You are so glad this was breaka….”

Wally knew of the afterlife business conducted out of the building on the far corner of the school’s property. Knew that Charley had gotten the coffee mug Wally got for Christmas a few years prior. While Rhonda had tall, thick walls, and sarcasm adored the bracelet Janet had given her. Wally had just never had a reason to go there. He’d seen one of the twins delivering items, but he never saw the other twin. You.

“Hi.” Wally breathlessly spoke, instantly falling for the person standing before him. Regardless of the harsh glare, he quickly scooped the items from your arms, “Let me help.”

And for some reason, you let him. He held the door open to the theatre for you and listened intently to everything you said. It was an instant connection. A friendship with the potential of more.

Wally became a new feature in the art studio while Brady and you worked. He was with the twins when he wasn’t at the support group or on the field. It didn’t take long before Wally asked you out.

And for three years, you built an afterlife together. Until it fell apart in 2013.

For the last decade, you had become more reclusive than previously, partially due to running Highlands House alone without Brady and partly to avoid running into Wally. An ache swelled, thinking of the tall brunette.

You shoved the thought of him aside to focus on the handmade journal Rhonda had commissioned. You’d worked hard to develop the craft of making your own paper and enjoyed it when she popped in when you asked to go over the cover details.

When Brady was still here, you worked more on having clients come to the studio, but you’d managed to get a phone. It was hard to get and used for clients to contact with requests for appointments and contact.

As you said. You’d become reclusive.

So when the knock on the door happened, your eyebrows raised. Your e/c eyes glance at the calendar on the desk. Not a single appointment for today and one known visits you. If Mina left the theatre, you had a feeling she would.

“Renai?”

Your eye quite literally twitched hearing his voice. You kept silent.

“I know you’re there, Renai. I can hear the kiln, and I know you barely move your eyes away from it when it’s firing!”

No matter how much you wanted to slam Rhonda’s notebook on the floor, you refrained. Instead, you smoothed your hair and took a deep breath before striding out of the workroom to the front office. The lock clicked open, and you saw Wally standing there with Charley behind him.

“Hi.” Charley’s smile was watery at best. The apology clears in his expression.

“You so afraid of seeing me you brought backup.” You inquired through the open space between the edge of the door and the jam.

“I think you’re less likely to punch me with him here.” Wally returned with a half smile. His brown eyes watched your lips twist.

“I’ve always had a soft spot for Charley.” Although you admitted opening the door to the duo standing outside, “I wouldn’t punch you. I need my hands.”

You ignored the feeling Wally’s chuckle brought you by leading them to the small sitting room you’d set up. You’d barely sat in the chair with drinks in hand. Tea for Charley, a Gatorade for Wally and your beverage of choice.

“What made you crawl out of whatever hole you’ve been hiding in for the last decade.” You questioned, “Because Charley was here last week to get Mr. Martin’s mug. By the way, how’d he like it, Charley?”

“He loves it.” Charley quietly interjected decidedly, trying to avoid the quarrel he hoped would end sooner rather than later.

Yet it still smouldered.

“It’s not like you’d left the buil-“

“Not like I have a choice.” You shut Wally’s question down. He winced, nodding, “I’m guessing this is more of a business trip than personal.”

Wally nodded. Charley delved into the story of the newest member of Split River Afterlife and the mystery of her death. You didn’t know who this Maddie was, and that was primarily due to how you kept away from the living world.

“So she was murdered in the boiler room.” You finished for Charley, “And you’ve found out she can talk with the living.”

“And I was wondering if you could check in with Jo-“

Your eyes left Charley’s calm ones to Wally’s sitting there in the audacity he had. The cup in your hand slammed against the table so hard you wondered how it hadn’t shattered.

“Are you shitting me, Clark? You come here after so many damn years because you need something from me?!” You exclaimed, taking a step away from your ex-boyfriend.

Charley bit his lip like the meme he saw on Emilio’s phone of Michael Scott from The Office. Charley really didn’t like confrontation all that much. But look where it got him.

“It’s just I feel for her, you know. We all came to the afterlife knowing what happened. And she’s suddenly dead with no idea how or who did it. She’s all alone, and I think you two-“Wally pleaded, attempting to step closer.

“And whose fault is it I’m alone.” You snapped. Wally flinched back, and Charley gasped, “Please leave. I have work to do.”

You fled for the workroom leaving the two in the sitting area digesting what had happened. Charley guided Wally from the building toward the library, where they had left Rhonda and Maddie alone.

“I knew me going was a bad idea. She hates me. Still.” Wally moaned, collapsing onto the couch to sling his arm across his eyes.

“Blowout?” Rhonda ignores the lump of an athlete on the couch.

“Explosive.” Charley replied, turning to ask Maddie, only to find the place empty, “Uh… where’s Maddie?”

You’d slapped the closed sign on the door before stalking away from it and the memories. A trinket is nimbly held by your fingerprints. But, despite wanting to rebel against Wally’s request, you couldn’t ignore the guilt of even considering not helping.

“Joel!” You shouted near the edge of the school property. The chain link fence is the physical evidence of where the property was cut off from the forest. You hated coming to this part because you could feel the eyes of the dead watching from the shadows.

A tall, lanky form materialized from behind one of the trees. He was wearing the sweater you’d swiped from the lost and found. His red hair was as bright as the fire extinguished in the kiln.

“Renaissance,” Joel responded, coming to the chainlink fence. His hand held out for the stamp you’d pay with for any information.

Life was easier when money was accessible. Now instead of cash, it was trading items and favours. Paying for information was more complicated, and Joel didn’t require new clothing as of yet.

“Have you heard anything about the recent disappearance of Madison Nears? She goes by Maddie.” You questioned, stepping away before his skin could brush yours. You hated the screams you audibly heard each time you felt his skin or even his clothes.

Joel curiously looked over the stamp, “I do not have this stamp.”

Getting information from Joel was more challenging than pulling teeth. You loathed any time you lost a piece of leverage for information. It is tough to find stamps the soldier hadn’t collected in the last century and a half since the Civil War.

“Joel.” You huffed, bringing the soldier’s attention back to you.

“I have not. The death of Maddie Nears is no more significant than that of a deer.” Joel responded, looking up to meet the disappointment on your face, “You are kind to me and my fellow soldiers in the face of our part in the Civil War. I shall gather information for you.”

You watched silently as Joel faded into the shadows of Split River’s forest bordering the school grounds. The unease of his presence followed him as well.

Working on any Highlands projects was illogical with how distracted you were. Wally appearing after so long had indeed thrown you for a loop. You were sure everyone would understand things being late by a day.

“You never did tell me where you got this.” Mr. Martin announced from his spot at your desk. His eyes scanned the phone lying facedown on the table.

Your spine stiffened, seeing the ghost in your safe place. The afterlife teacher, slash support group leader, had always rubbed you the wrong way. Something about him felt off, but you could never put your finger on it.

“You evade every question I have.” You deflected grabbing the phone from the desk to lock away in the filing cabinet, “What can I do for you, Mr. Martin?”

“I’m wondering how your grief eased after seeing Mr. Clark so much you agreed to help him. You know this misguided wild goose chase is destructive to Maddie acknowledging and accepting her death.” Mr. Martin replied, dragging a finger down one of the planting pots you had on display. Your flesh goosed seeing his finger disrupt the pottery.

Your laser focus is pinned on Mr. Martin, “Everyone copes differently.”

“And how are you coping with Brady crossing over?” Mr. Martin demanded, turning to face you fully.

Brady’s name, let alone the question, felt like Mr. Martin was shoving a red-hot poker in a wound.

“Fine.” Your features shuttered close from the prodding, “I’d appreciate it if you’d leave Mr. Martin. Highlands House is closed.”

You had never distrusted someone more than the teacher, leaving your business and home with confidence.

“Remember our agreement Renaissance.”

The nickname you’d gained in the afterlife felt comfortable hearing from him. You refused to speak more to the teacher.

Walking the halls of the high school’s main building felt odd after so long. It still smelt of a mixture of questionable cafeteria food, BO, and unrecognizable scents. Little had changed. You couldn’t tell if you felt comforted by that or not.

“-she’s a loner.” Charley’s voice drifted into the library’s opening as you entered quietly.

“All the more reason to talk to her!”

The object of your mission cradled delicately in your hands. The heads of the ghosts in attendance; Charley, Rhonda, Wally and the new girl, you guessed.

“Rhonda, I have your journal ready.” You notified the group but focused on the teen kneeling before the coffee table.

“You’re Renaissance. You own Highlands House.” The blonde female declared, leaning forward, “Have you learnt-“

“Maddie. Manners.” Charley ground his teeth together in a small that bordered more on a grimace, “I’m so sorry, Renai.”

You waved it off, “Hello, Maddie. Welcome to Split Valley afterlife. I haven’t gotten anything from my contact yet, and I’ve received no messages from other ghosts in town. So I’m just here to drop off Rhonda’s journal and head back to the studio. Unfortunately, the ghost who died in Mr. Anderson’s house crossed over a few months ago.”

With that, you turned on your heel and made it a handful of steps down the hall when Wally called out. Then, your feet abruptly stopped striding from the library.

“You haven’t made a delivery since Brady crossed over. You have one of the freshmen help out. What brought you to the school?”

“Curiosity more than anything. Strengthen the relationship with the customers.”

“Bullshit.” Wally spoke, stepping closer to you, “You know something.”

“Nothing of importance yet. It’s hard to get information when and I quote, ‘her is no more significant than that of a deer’. It’s not like she doesn’t have eternity to figure it out.”

“She shouldn’t have to wait that long for answers,” Wally argued, crossing his arms and stretching the white t-shirt under the varsity jacket.

Your e/c eyes scrutinized the jacket you’d worn often during your relationship with the brunette. The dances you’d attended with him and cheering from your spot in the stands for homecoming. Getting to know Mrs. Clark, albeit her being unaware of yours or Wally’s presence and holding him the fifth anniversary, his dad stopped coming.

You’d loved, and if you were to admit it, still loved Wally Clark in every atom of you. But the pain of losing Brady and Wally’s involvement cut deep. You weren’t ready to forgive. You didn’t know if you would ever be able to forgive him.

You cleared your throat, “I’ll let you all know if I hear any news. Be easier if Maddie had someone from her life helping.”

You didn’t see the guilt appear on his features.

“For what it’s worth, Renai. Thank you for helping.”

Your soft smile was answer enough for the football player and reignited his mission to have you forgive him. And rekindle your relationship. Wally wasted enough time with you.

Tag List: Let me know if you want to be tagged!

@websterss

[theglamorousferal]

The Cryptid of Smallville

I am posting the first couple chapters of the fic that I am currently working on juuuust in case AO3 goes down again. In the next couple days I’ll start posting some of my wips that I don’t think I’ll finish. If any of them inspire people to write more then I’ll be happy. 

I had the thought a while ago about what if Danny was raised alongside Clark Kent and the hijinks that would result in Danny being near the liminal space that is cornfields. These are basically a series of connected one-shots because I am not that great at trying to do a real plot lol

Without further ado, here’s the first chapter of the Cryptid of Smallville! (Small edit: here’s the link to AO3 the first two chapters are there)

______________________________________________________________ The night sky was clear and open above the cornfields as a gentle breeze caused the plants to stir. It was a calm night on the Kent family farm. A streak of neon green broke across the sky and landed in the middle of the fields, purple tinged smoke wafting from the crash site. A boy of about six rolled over in his sleep, glowing green eyes glancing at the stars above framed by smoke. The gentle breeze is still blowing, returning the night to calm.

*****

Danny was gonna put Clockwork in soup time whenever he got back into the Zone. 

He was laying there, staring at the clouds in the sky, surrounded by corn, and only about three and a half feet tall, wondering where in the Realms he was. Clockwork had said something about sending him off somewhere with people who could handle a child with powers growing up before tossing him through a portal by the ankle. He had ended up in low orbit and was lulled to sleep by staring at the stars he is so fond of.

Crawling out of the hole he was in, he examined the surrounding area and just found a bunch of burnt and slightly smoldering corn and kicked up dirt. The gentle breeze brought the smell of bacon to his nose and he floated to look just above the tall plants around him. He spots a house in the distance and starts heading there, making sure to walk the last few yards just in case this isn’t where CW intended him to go. He finds himself stumbling from the field just to make eye contact with a man pulling on his work boots for the day on the porch steps, the man freezes. 

“Hey Martha?” The man yells into the house.

“Yes Jon?” a voice muffled from the door yells back.

“Do we have a spare room done up?” the man, Jon, asks, not taking his eyes off Danny.

“Why? Are you expecting someone and forgot to tell me?” the voice sounds like it’s getting closer to the door.

“No honey, I think we may have a repeat situation of Clark though.” He briefly glances from Danny up to the last bits of smoke wafting from the field. A quiet “What?” comes from the house. He gentles his voice, full attention on Danny. “Hey son, did you have a bit of an accidental landing in the corn? Is your head okay? Are your parents around?”

Danny stays still for a moment thinking about what’s going on. The man seems to at least suspect that he crash landed on his property and mentioned something about something like this happening before. Have these people dealt with a random child appearing at their house before? Specifically one that crashed from the sky? He has many questions, but he should probably answer Jon first. 

“Yeah, I got sent away until I was better, my head doesn’t hurt at all and my parents are not exactly from around here, and don’t know where I am.” He pauses thinking about it. “Does the children-crashing-onto-your-farm-thing happen a lot to you?”

Jon chuckled as he finished tying his boots up and walked down the stairs just as the door opens and a woman in an apron is standing there looking surprised to see an unknown child standing in her yard. The man crouches down in front of Danny, giving him a once-over. 

“You’d be surprised, now what’s your name son?.”

“It’s Danny Fenton, what’s yours?”

“Jon Kent, my wife over there is Martha. Now you look like you could use a good meal and a washup, how’s that sound?” Jon grins at Danny and musses up his hair before standing and offering a hand to walk into the house. He smiles over at Martha who blinks and then gives Danny a warm smile, standing aside to let them enter the house.

“Good thing I made some extra breakfast then, let’s get some food in you young man, you’re as skinny as a post!” She smiles and heads towards the kitchen. “Be sure to wash up your hands first hun, can’t eat with dirty hands! And Jon! What have I told you about your muck boots being in the house! I’m sure Danny can find his way and wash his own hands; second door on the right hun; and git outta my house with those things on, I’ll have more coffee ready for you once you feed the animals!” Jon pouted and trudged his way out of the house.

Danny smiled a little to himself as he looked for the door Martha was talking about, noting the wallpaper and decor that looked like every midwest farmer’s house he’d seen in any piece of media ever. After washing his hands he made his way to where he could hear soft humming and dishes being washed. He saw a plate of pancakes and bacon on the table next to a glass of orange juice, a glass of milk, and a container of syrup and headed to the spot.

“Thank you Mrs. Kent.” he said from his seat and she smiled back at him, going back to the dishes. Danny realized he’d probably have to start explaining what he could to them soon, but decided to focus on the breakfast in front of him. The breakfast that wasn’t alive and currently trying to kill him. He nearly cried.

“So Danny,” Martha began as she wiped her hands off with a dish rag. “Do you remember how it is you got here?” She joined him at the table with a cup of coffee after setting a mug, a spoon and the sugar bowl next to the machine for her husband when he came in.

“I do, it’s a really weird story though, I’m not sure you’ll believe me.” He was hesitant, he still wasn’t sure these were the people that Clockwork meant to send him to. Though they’ve taken the whole crash-landed-child-thing pretty well… Screw it, he’ll see if he can wait until Jon comes back and explain to both of them. “Can we wait for Mr. Kent too? I don’t really want to say it twice.” 

She smiled at him, taking a sip of her coffee and then nodded. “That’s fine hun, he shouldn’t be more than a couple minutes unless the rooster decided to pick a fight again.” she chuckled to herself, looking out of the window while drinking her coffee. She sees the faint trail of smoke rising in the sky outside and her eyebrows pinch in worry. “You didn’t happen to see anythin’ burning when you got up, did you?” 

Danny glances out the window and sees the smoke. “Oh no, there was just a little bit still smoldering in the hole, but there wasn’t anything actively burning. I can show you both when I finish explaining what I can.” The slapping of a screen door startles him and Jon walks in, heading straight for the coffee maker and making himself a cup, then joining them at the table.

“So Danny-boy, what can you tell us?” Jon gives his full attention to Danny. 

Danny shifts in his seat, looking every part the six year old he appeared to be, uncertain at the attention of two adults. “Well, it’s a long story and kinda out there? I’m not sure how much you’ll believe?” He looks uncertain at the pair across from him who share a look. Martha reaches across the table to take Danny’s hand.

“Honey, you wouldn’t believe the stuff we’re used to, I’m sure it’s fine.”

Danny only hesitated a moment longer and then sighed looking far older than his apparent six years. “So to start off with, wherever this is, I’m not from around here. I’m assuming since you both speak English that this is still Earth, but maybe not MY Earth, I’m still a bit confused on the whole ‘multiverse’ thing, but either way, I got sent here until some stuff got sorted out and so I’ll be here until it does.” He was rambling, he knew, but he’s kind of anxious about stuff. “I kinda got put in my childhood body and now I have to get back to my actual age and my Guardian said something about time here running differently than in my dimension before he just chucked me through a portal. He did say he was sending me to people who could handle my weirdness as I age, so I’m assuming you are them and maybe have some experience with kids with freaky weird stuff happening to them?”

The Kents once more shared a look, this one a little longer than the last, then turned back to Danny. “Oh son, I think you’ll fit in just fine. So, how long can we expect you for? I can tell you’re probably a lot older than six judging by how you talk?”

Danny blinked at him, trying to process the fact that they didn’t seem phased and rather seemed like they believed him. “Uh, I was sixteen, so I guess a decade? I’m sorry to impose on you for a while, really I can figure out stuff on my own, I don’t want to be a bother.”

Jon chuckled “Oh trust me son, it wouldn’t be an issue, I’m sure Clark would love a younger brother, or at the very least a friend who understands him. We have plenty of room here, and though we’d probably ask you for help with chores, we’d be glad to have you for however long you need.”

Danny blinks again at them. They weren’t serious, right? They just seem fine taking in a random child and having him live with them for however long. And who was this Clark? What did he mean by younger brother?

“Clark?” he asked hesitantly.

“Oh right, our son, you’ll meet him when he gets home from school, I’m sure you’ll get along just fine! Now Danny, let me show you to a room and we can get you settled, we’ll probably have to head on over to the thrift shop to get you something to wear besides these charred and muddy pj’s, but we should have something from Clark that’s too small that’ll fit you for now.” Martha took his hand and led him upstairs to where he’d be in apparently his new home.

*****

Clark had had a pretty boring day at school. The classes were boring. He had to hold back in gym class again and when studying the skeletal system in biology, he started studying the teacher’s bones instead of the display skeleton or the worksheet. He was really looking forward to getting home and maybe going for a fly around the fields where no one could see him or maybe catching the latest episode of Rescue Rangers. 

He could spot his house in the distance and after looking around to make sure no one would see him, he sped down the driveway as fast as he could, knocking up a lot of dirt in the process. He really liked going fast, whether running or flying. He just loved the wind in his hair. 

“Ma, Pa, I’m home.” he kicked his sneakers off and rushed upstairs into his room to drop off his bag. He listened around for heartbeats and realized that Pa was out on the tractor and Ma was out with the chickens. He froze as he heard a much closer sound though. It was very slow and faint, but he could hear another heartbeat in the house. Even more, he could hear someone muttering to themselves in the guest room and the flipping of pages.

Clark slowly made his way down the hall towards the sound and peaked in the room with his x-ray vision. There, sitting on the ceiling, was a child about half his age reading a ratty old book about space. Clark stood in the doorway, now able to see him in regular vision and just stared at him. He took a moment until he decided to just join him up there and sat across from him.

“So who are you?” Clark asked while the kid was still focused on his book. He didn’t even look up from the book.

“Name’s Danny.” The kid paused for a second before he looked up and stared at Clark. Danny looked from Clark to the ceiling, to the floor, and then back to Clark. “Oh, so that’s why they said I’d fit right in here. I guess we are pretty similar! I’m guessing you’re Clark then?” The child beamed at him, putting out his hand to shake. Clark took it gently, not wanting to hurt the kid. Then the kid gripped his hand tight and Clark realized that they have more in common than he thought and gripped his hand tighter in response.

“So where are you from?” Clark asked, very curious as to how this kid who could fly and had his strength, but also had almost no heartbeat ended up at his house. Danny rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, I’m not from this Earth and I kinda got put here to recover for a long while and my Guardian decided your parents are the best equipped to handle a kid growing up with powers, so he sent me here. I’m guessing because of you?” 

“Yeah, mine started manifesting around your age. What powers do you have? How long do you plan to be here? Where are you from? You said this wasn’t your Earth, I’m guessing you’re from a different dimension then? That’s so cool!” Clark, ever curious, shot off many questions rapid fire and Danny laughed while answering them all as best he could.

Part 2

[frownyalfred]

Random thought. RfoCVerse, Clark centric piece of him going through his day to day sometimes watching/listening in on his fellow pack members and their crazy/funny/cute shenanigans.

Your thoughts on that?

I love it. I've thought about this a bit, especially when it comes to Clark getting used to his new instincts as Pack Alpha. Normally listening to this kind of stuff doesn't make him twitch, but it's different when it's his pack.

Lex threatening some guy on a Gotham street corner has him sitting up at work with a half-swallowed growl. Bruce falls asleep with Jason in the nest, and Clark just sways in the bathroom while washing his hands, soothed by the soft sounds of their breathing. The sound of Alfred patrolling the property lines makes him relax, even though he worries about the older beta. He nearly snaps a pen in a meeting when Jason and Lex fight near Bruce, even though he knows it's just play. Etc etc.

If I had time...I would write this fic lmao. Nothing like Lois asking him what the fuck is going on when he keeps getting weird at work. She's an alpha too, I think she'd recognize he's struggling with instincts.

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for Mo; Clark panic-adopts his teenage clones (yes, including the supervillain one).

"I changed my mind," Superman says evenly. "Consider yourself stolen."

"What?" Match frowns reflexively. Superman adjusts his grip on Thirteen; cradles him more carefully in his arms.

Doesn't stop looking at Match, though, for some inexplicable reason.

"You say you're property?" Superman says, quiet and intent. "Fine. But property doesn't return itself when it gets stolen. If the Agenda wants you back, they're going to have to take you from me."

". . . why," Match says, very slowly.

"Because they're going to have to pry you from my cold dead hands before I ever let them near you again," Superman says, his pupils illuminated by red pinpricks of light.

Match doesn't think this man has ever made less sense to him than he's making right now, and Superman almost never makes sense to him. Not in anything more than the most abstract terms, anyway.

Superman doesn't want anything to do with him. Doesn't care that they share secondhand DNA. Doesn't care that–

This doesn't make sense.

Neither does the fact Superman bothered going to get Thirteen when Thirteen always escapes anyway, though, or why Superman caught Thirteen when he fell, or why he told Thirteen he was safe and then gave him to Match. None of those things are even a little bit logical or rational.

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Kiss Me First

masterlist

summary: you keep a student after class to work on their late english homework, but coach teague wants his star quarterback at practice

paring: jason teague x female teacher!reader

rating: R for language

word count: 0.9k

warnings: reader’s last name is smith (simply because it looks better than ‘miss.y/l/n’), absolutely no spoilers for smallville so if you haven’t watched it that’s okay

author’s note: just some jason teague fluff because i haven’t seen any on here and that makes me sad

Being the 12th grade English teacher and dating the football coach had quite a few perks - a quiet office to make out in, carpooling to and from the school, and most of all getting to spend so much quality time together. But, you and Jason butted heads when it came to the importance of actual school. Jason insisted that his football players didn’t need great grades, they should focus on the sport instead. Obviously, you disagreed. So, that ended you here; a student of yours, Clark Kent, had four late assignments. Instead of giving him four poor grades, you offered he could make it up by working on the assignments after class. He agreed and was now thirty minutes late to football practice.

“Y/n! You’re the teacher keeping Clark after class?” Jason asked when he walked into the classroom. “He’s the quarterback for fuck’s sake!”

“First off, we’re on school property and there’s a student in the room; watch your language. Second, hello honey, how’s your day going?” You smiled, not looking away from the papers you were grading.

Jason sighed and rolled his eyes, “My day’s going fine,” he grumbled. “Especially lunch, whew! God, the most beautiful woman surprised me in my office and we-”

“Okay!” You turned on your chair and looked at him, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“I knew that would get your attention,” he replied and walked up to your desk. “Seriously, though, can Clark please come to practice?”

“Jason! C’mon the kid’s gonna fail this class!”

“I’m gonna fail?” Clark exclaimed from the desk he sat at near the back of the room.

“You will if you keep this up!” you replied. “Football is not as important as grades, Mr.Kent.”

“Don’t listen to Miss Smith here.” Jason shook his head. “Football is way more important than any English paper.”

You groaned loudly and put your face in your hands. “You’re an idiot Coach Teague. And I’m not forcing Clark to be here. I’m grading three week’s worth of homework over the weekend, if he doesn’t get these assignments in by the time I leave here, it’s an automatic zero. Shouldn’t take him more than two hours overall.”

“Please?” Jason pouted. He bent down and kissed you. “We’ve got a big game next week, the team needs to practice as a team!”

“Jason, I love you, but I can’t in good conscience let this kid fail my class this semester!”

“I love you more,” he mumbled and kissed you again.

He turned to walk back out but you gripped his hand and stopped him.

“Clark, I’ll give you another extension for these assignments,” you told him, Jason smiled widely.

“Thank you, Miss Smith,” Clark replied before throwing his things in his backpack.

“They’ll be due Monday, okay?” you asked, he nodded and thanked you again before leaving the room.

“Thanks, hun,” Jason said. He once again turned to leave but again you stopped him.

“Oh, don’t think for a second you’re getting off that easy, mister!”

“Sweetheart, I love you but I really gotta go!”

“Kiss me first?” you asked, flashing puppy dog eyes that made it impossible for him to say no. He pulled you to your feet and kissed you; your hands roaming up his chest and resting on the back of his neck as your fingers played with his hair.

“God, I love you so fucking much!” he whispered against your lips. “So goddamn much!” His hands roamed down your back and rested on your ass, squeezing it gently. “You’ve got such a perfect ass, honey, anyone ever tell you that?”

“Yeah this one guy keeps telling me!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, he’s got these beautiful green eyes that turn into a shade of brown when the lighting is dim, an adorable nose, and an array of freckles painting his overall perfect face.”

“Painting? You really are a writer,” he mumbled and kept kissing you so you couldn’t protest his comment.

“God he’s got the most perfect lips, too!” you smiled. “They’re perpetually this gorgeous shade of musty pink-”

“Are you gonna keep talking or can we make-out properly?”

“Don’t even get me started on that voice of his, good fucking lord!” You kissed down his neck then back up to his cheek. “And when he smiles he gets these little eye-wrinkles right here.” You kissed his eye wrinkles as his smile deepened.

“Okay, now you’re making me blush sweetheart.”

“Awe, are you worried all your big, tough athletes out there are gonna see you all smiling and blushing?” You teased him.

“Nah, they all know you make me crazy,” he said quietly and kissed you again. “I really better go before they come looking for me though.”

“Mkay, I love you,” you replied as he broke away.

“I love you too, and I’ll be back here to take you home in,” he checked his watch as he walked toward the door, “one hour and twenty-four minutes.” He smirked and pointed at you as he entered the hallway and said, “I love you!” With that he jogged away.

The realization slowly set in that you really let Clark walk out when he was nearly one month behind on homework.

“God fucking damn it,” you groaned and you slumped back down into your chair; shaking your head with a slight smile.

[zahri-melitor]

What's the Williamson thing? I don't think I've read much of his work

This is not exclusive to Williamson in any way, but he's part of it.

There are a bunch of DC writers who have a decided tendency to place more emphasis on biological relationships than adoptive ones. Williamson's a known example.

This affects variously families differently. Flashfam are less affected because they're almost all actual interrelated family members, however it's particularly noticeable in the writing of Bat, Super and Arrow titles.

(Aquafam is its own special case because 'biological v adoptive v foster' dramas extend back to the Bronze Age. Fortunately nobody seems to have let these writers near the Marvelfam/Shazamily much)

But essentially, it shows up as a tendency to define Damian Wayne, Jon Kent, Connor Hawke and Emiko Queen specifically by their biological relationships to Bruce, Clark and Ollie, and minimising the importance of adoptive bonds.

This is where you'll see things like Dick Grayson referred to as "Bruce's ward" in a title published in the 2020s, or Dick mention Bruce to Damian as "your father" (not ours), or have Ollie thinking about "my son Connor and my former sidekick Roy", or describing Roy as "like a son", or suggestions that there wasn't a Super Family before Jon arrived and that obviously the only possible Superman replacement for Clark is Jon, and so on.

It's this insidious "adoptive relationships and foster relationships are great but this here is your own flesh and blood, your biological child, and that is something that has its own special importance above and beyond any child you have chosen to look after". Which is something that some people do think and struggle with in blended families! But which gets really noticeable when it's prioritised in properties that were originally about families of choice.

Because we're talking about Joshua Williamson, and I was referring to his writing of Damian in particular:

It's having Alfred say to Damian “Bruce would have wanted you to be Robin” and claiming that is a scene that happened during Batman R.I.P., even though Tim was very much still Bruce's Robin at the time, had been promised by Bruce that he could be Robin as long as he wanted to be, and was literally in costume as Robin trying to hold the city together and track down and imprison Hush with Dick.

It's the attitude that Damian was entitled to be Robin because he was Bruce's son, and being Robin is a marker of being Bruce's Blood Son, whether or not Damian is actually doing the job of Robin.

It's scenes of Bruce and Damian going "Father and son. Batman and Robin. We don't need anyone else" even as Tim is currently also Robin and a very important thread of Bat family storytelling for the last 30 years is that yes, actually Bruce does need his family, he does need more than one single connection, the network is important at keeping him grounded and sane and able to do the job.

It's just...sigh. Joshua Williamson at it again.

[todaysdocument]

Telegram from Commander Alfred H. Terry to the Adjutant General of the Division of the Missouri

Record Group 393: Records of U.S. Army Continental CommandsSeries: Special Files of Letters ReceivedFile Unit: Sioux Indian Papers, 1879 - Brief and Letters Received 3721 (with enclosures to 3571) Thru 5219

[pre-printed form]

The Western Union Telegraph Company.

The rules of this company require that all messages received for transmission shall be written on the message blanks of the Company.

under and subject to the conditions printed thereon, which conditions have been agreed to by the sender of the following message.

A.R.Brewer, Secretary. William Orton, Prest.

No. [handwritten] 242 [/handwritten]

[handwritten at top of page] [illegible] / 36/ 29P [/[

[handwritten at right] 123 [ppw?] [/]

Dated [handwritten] At Paul/Minn/23 [/handwritten]

To [handwritten] Adjutant Gent Division [/handwritten]

Rec'd at cor. Lasalle and Washington Sts.,

Chicago, Ills. [handwritten] July 23, 1879 [/handwritten]

[handwritten] Missouri Chicago

On the seventeenth June the advance of [Mibs?] Column

under Lieutenant Clark second cavalry composed of

Lieutenant Bordens Company fifth infantry Lieutenant

Hoppins company second cavalry and fifty Indian scouts

had a sharp engagement between Beaver Creek + Mouth of

frenchmans Creek with four hundred Hostile Indians the

indians were pursued twelve miles when the troops in

advance became surrounded [illegible letters stricken through] Main Command was moved

forward rapidly + the Enemy fled North of Milk river

Colonel Miles reports that the troops engaged fought in

admirable order + are entitled to much credit that the action

of our Indians was quite satisfactory Cheyennes, Sioux,

Crows, Assiniboines and Bannacks fighting with the troops

Killing several Hostile Indians + forcing the enemy to

abandon a large amount of property. Our casualties are

two men Company Second Cavalry wounded two Cheyenne

and one Crow Indian Scouts killed and one Assiniboine

scout seriously wounded. A large scouting party sent

upon North side of Milk river near Head of

Porcupine reports to Colonel Miles that main

camp under Sitting Bull composed of sixteen

hundred lodges is on little rocky having moved over

from Frenchmans Creek Colonel Miles says this

report is corroborated by several others + by men

who were in the Hostile Camp as late as June Sixteenth

+ that he expects to move up between frenchmans Creek +

the Little Rocky where possibly the Main body of

Indians may be engaged

Terry Department Commander

246 paid Govt Rate

# 532

[stamped] RECEIVED

[stamped] JUL

[stamped] [2?] 23

[stamped] 1879

[stamped] MIL.DIV.,MO.

#245

[she-who-the-river-could-not-hold]

marcid [a Clarke-centric ficlet]

marcid - incredibly exhausted [from this prompt list] Clarke-centric, found-family references | setting: zombie apocalypse AU, the Shenandoah Valley in Virginia, USA | wc: ~850

Clarke wiped the sweat from her brow, breath haggard and muscles sore.

It was coming to the end of their prep time. Lists were crumpled and covered in smudged pencil marks, crossing off each crucial item as if it was as simple as a grocery list––instead of the very items that would protect their small pocket of humanity against the encroaching invasion. The long hot summer days were a blessing, even if it didn’t feel like it when you were in the trenches of the humidity. But it gave them more daylight, more time to get things moving and taken care of before night fell. Being able to see for miles was a gift, even if the threat still hadn’t fully reached their outpost in rural Virginia. 

The large yellow farmhouse wasn’t originally meant as a safe house for a zombie outbreak.

But here they were.

Biting her lip, Clarke glanced back at the house. It rose up on the grassy knoll, golden in the late afternoon sun. For now, the doors were wide open as people traversed in and out of it. A wrap-around porch, one she’d imagined painting on in the mornings, was lined with wooden white slats that she’d barely had a chance to finish repainting before everyone’s priorities shifted. Unseen, deep below the house, was the sprawling basement, now-turned bunker.

She was, no matter what, glad she’d purchased the house. She just wished it could be for the reasons she’d first had. 

But at least there was comfort in its new abilities.

A place where Madi would hopefully be able to grow up, when (if) all of this was over. Remote enough to hunt and grow their food, less needs to go into town and increase risk of infection. Plenty of storage for Octavia and Niylah as the latter taught the former all that she’d learned growing up even deeper in the area, down in the depths of Appalachia. Crucial skills that would help provide for them as they prayed for a day when things would hopefully return to normal. Even from here, down near the front edge of the property, she could see Murphy running Picasso around as he wore him out for the impending evening. 

The house would hopefully be a fresh start for more than just her now.

The thought left a bruising ache on her heart.

Fuck, she was tired.

She’d spent so much of her early twenties running. Running from things and people, all situations that now feel so trivial to think about. Sure, the whole hindsight-is-20/20-thing. But that type of growth had been accelerated the moment the news broke out on the TV. Clarke was just glad she’d been able to say goodbye to her mom before shit hit the fan. That they’d been able to bury the hatchet before she’d passed away.

It was the image of her mom in her mind’s eye, giving her one last comforting smile, that pushed Clarke to get back to hoisting the jugs of water out of the back of the truck and into the wagon she was filling. It was better to save on gas for now, do more heavy work by hand, than have it go extra mileage it didn’t need to. Better––certainly not easier. 

Clarke was an artist with a trust fund; her experience with manual labor had been limited to the single horse camp she’d gone to in middle school. She’d chosen debate club over sports in high school. Now, she’d spent the last couple weeks repairing the house, the garden, and the fence around the property. She and Bellamy climbed up onto the roof to fix it themselves. Hauling rocks to help Raven build the well. She held Madi tightly at night when the young girl had panic attacks, the soreness of her muscles nothing compared to her need to soothe her newly adopted daughter. Her brain hurt from planning and worrying. Her eyes dry from late nights with Bellamy, counting and counting and counting once more to make sure that their supplies would cover them for at least a little while.

Choosing to survive felt like a thankless task. One that some days she wasn’t sure she was cut out to do.

But as the news had grown more bleak each day, scientists pleading with the public to do what they could while cures were tested and chaos attempted to remain at bay, Clarke had felt something else.

A stirring determination to make it through. To live, not just survive.

She knew that there were no promises for tomorrow. The hoards coming over from DC would be upon their lands sooner than later. The valley was still lush in pockets and she could only hope it would give them enough cover.

It was hard to imagine she’d ever feel this tired again. Muscles sore and aching, arms fighting to not shake as Bellamy carefully taught her how to shoot.

But she knew she had to keep going. Push through the exhaustion and remind herself of the hope for the future.And she’d do everything she could to make sure they all made it there.

[memento-mori-twilight]

I loved them pulling elements from Man of Steel (Clark's ship, inside and out) and Superman Returns (him having to be near Kryptonite to save the day, essentially a sacrifice) into the finale, arguably the most hated Superman live action properties

And just mashed them together so it just worked so *chef's kiss* perfectly with the theme.

[realtyhubph-blog]

Timog Park Angeles Modern House

Pre-owned modern home in Timog Park Angeles City ON SALE at 15M

📍 Timog Park Subdivision Brgy. Pampang Angeles City, Pampanga Property Features 2 Story House, Single-Detached Lot Size: 300 sq meters 3 Big Bedrooms 4 Bathrooms 2 Carports Subdivision Features and Amenities Very strategic location High demand and high rental income potential Exclusive, safe and secured subdivision Property is near the gate facing Fil-Am Friendship Highway Walking…

[cardcaptorsakura96]

Taxes, Taxes, Taxes-Chapter 22

Fandom: Supergirl

Characters: Kara Danvers, Clark Kent, Samantha Arias, Lena Luthor, Lillian Luthor, Ruby Arias, Oliver Queen, John Stewart, Diana Prince, Bruce Wayne, Barry Allen, J'onn J'onnz, Alfred Pennyworth, Lois Lane, Cat Grant, Lucy Lane, Damian Wayne, Felicity Smoak, Streaky the Supercat, Martha Kent, Selina Kyle, Talia Al Ghul, Lucius Fox, Maggie Sawyer, Alex Danvers, Jason Todd

Summary: What if superheroes had to pay a property damage tax every time they had a fight in the city?

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20

Kara floated in the sky absorbing the sun’s rays. Flying is one of her favorite things in the world. She liked listening to the sounds that abound all around her. Sometimes it will be the laughter coming from kids playing, a group of people sharing the latest gossip about someone else, or hearing the rain pouring over a city. She lets the sounds absorb in her. She felt something tapped her. She frowned because she didn’t feel anything approaching her. She quickly opened her eyes and was pleasantly surprised. Her mother was floating right beside her. 

“Mom!” Kara squealed as she quickly flew to embrace her. 

Her mother held her tightly and said, “It is so good to see you my sweet child.”

Kara felt tears streaming down her face. 

“How is it that your here? And you’re flying! That is amazing!”

Alura caressed her face and said, “I will always come to you when you are in trouble Kara.”

Kara chuckled and said, “But I am doing well now mom. I made so many friends, have a kick ass girlfriend, defend the people of Earth…”

Alura look gave Kara a solemn look. 

Kara frowned and reached out to hold her mother’s hand. 

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

Alura cocked her head and asked, “Kara dear. Don’t you remember what happened?”

Kara looked at her quizzically while feeling an intense amount of pain in her head followed by a bright light. Once the light subsided, she saw Lena leaning over her crying. She tried to reach for her hand, but her whole body felt like it was hit by a train. Felicity came up behind Lena and put a hand on her shoulder. 

Felicity said, “Lena, Kalex needs us to clear the room so she and the other robot can operate on Kara and Damian.”

“I can’t leave her here. Besides, I have a medical background. I can assist.” 

Felicity said softly, “I know you don’t want to leave her, but you are in no shape to be anywhere near an operating table.” Felicity turned Lena towards the door and said, “You haven’t eaten anything for the last couple of hours. We can go up to Kara’s apartment floor and get a bit to eat.”

Lena quickly stepped back away from Felicity and shouted, “I am not leaving her.”

Felicity sighed and said, “Please don’t make me force you.”

Lena scoffed and asked, “How are you going to make me?”

Felicity shook her head, turned around, and yelled, “Barry!”

Barry instantly appeared with Lena suddenly in his arms. 

Lena looked up baffled and  exclaimed, “What the hell!”

Barry looked at Lena sheepishly and said, “I’m so sorry about this.”

Lena scowled and said, “Don’t you….”

But Lena didn’t get a chance to finish. She and Barry were gone in a blur.

Kalex came up to Kara and observed her carefully for a moment. She turned to Felicity and said, “I know that was hard, but I appreciate you both getting her out of the room. I didn’t really want to resort to the measures that we used to get Bruce out of the room.”

“I have to admit, it was something seeing him being tased by a robot. Are you sure he is going to be okay?”

Kalex nodded and said, “Based on his healing rate, he should wake up when Kalex 1.0 finishes Damian’s surgery. I also did as you and Barry suggested and invited Bruce’s other family members here. They should be arriving in a couple of minutes. Do you mind waiting for them on the first floor and bringing them up?”

Felicity nodded and said, “Will do. I will just take them to the guest rooms.”

Kalex nodded and said, “I estimate I should be finished in about six hours. Kalex 1.0 and I will give updates through the intercom systems on the floor on Damian and Kara’s progress.”

Thanks!” said Felicity as she walked away. 

Kalex looked at her thoughtfully and then went to get medical supplies. 

She felt her head hurt again and saw immense bright lights. When the lights faded away, she was back floating in the air with her mother. Kara looked around worriedly. 

“Wait! What just happened? asked Kara baffled. 

“You don’t remember what happened to you?” asked Alura quizzically. 

Kara frowned and said, “I remembered Lena looking so sad and, and…..”

Kara let out a frustrated cry and said, “I can’t remember any more.”

Alura nodded and said, “It is understandable. You were injured dear.”

Kara frowned and asked, “Injured? But I feel just fine.”

Alura placed a hand on Kara’s shoulder and said, “You are unconscious Kara. Your body is trying to recover from the vicious attack that befell you and your friend.”

Kara rubbed her head while squinting and said, “I remembering me being with Damian and something….happened…. I think we were…..we were…..”

Kara screamed out in frustration. 

Alura embraced Kara who leaned into her embrace with tears streaming down her face. 

Alura kissed her forehead and said, “I known this is difficult, but you will eventually remember. Your mind needs a break as well.”

Kara sniffed and said, “I know that. It is just so frustrating not being able to do….”

Suddenly, Kara felt tremendous pain in her head and a white blinding light surround her. As it fades, she looks around and sees that she is on the medical floor. She noticed that someone is holding her left hand. She turned and saw that Lena was lying in a recliner next to her bed fast asleep while holding her hand. She tried to squeeze her hand, but her hand barely moved. Kara tried to say something, but no words would come out. 

Kara turned to her right and saw Damian lying in a medical bed with a dark blue light surrounding him. To the right of Damian were two men. Bruce was the closet of the two. If Kara could gasp she would. She was used to seeing Bruce looking very calm, cool, and collected. The Bruce before her now looked broken. There was so much sadness in his eyes. It looked like he hadn’t shaved or showered in several days. The man standing next to him placed a hand on his shoulders. He was a strong build, about nearly six foot and four inches. He had mostly brown hair with a little bit of white at the front. Kara was used to Jason Todd looking indifferent or just scowling. But now he looked hesitant. Kara knows that Jason and Bruce have a difficult father-and-son relationship. Partly because they were both so much alike in that they were very stubborn, but they will fight like hell for their loved ones. 

Read the rest on AO3

[inkdreamt]

@potestmagice, for Clark,

They had found him unconscious near the property lines, just... out of nowhere, seemingly just... teleported, perhaps. It would hardly be the first teleporter in the school's history, but no... Victoria was fairly certain that teleportation was not this man's power. His brainwaves ran... differently. Not impossible to access, just... different.

He was brought under the school, to the infirmary, to be monitored until he woke. But Professor X, as the school lovingly called him, and most of the teachers were out doing... what, exactly, she was trying exceptionally hard not to find out, which meant she was left in charge of the school. And, by extension, the stranger.

Her eyes were closed as she sat in a chair near the door out of the infirmary, but she was far from asleep. Just focused. It was only when she felt his mind stir that she finally looked up to him. "You were unconscious for twelve hours. I would suggest taking it easy for a bit, Clark." She could blame the ID in his wallet for knowing his name, as the wallet was sitting on the table near him, but no... that was just a cursory view of his mind.

[flatbstanley]

Your Guide to Catholic Weddings

Y’all, I love a good wedding. In recognition of this fact, I thought we’d take a break from the heavier stuff and peek into the future. You may recognize some brides and bridesmaids, but no spoilers—you won’t see who they’re marrying.

Also, I’m writing from a US perspective. There are Catholics around the globe, so in reality there’s much, much more variation than you’ll see here. But this post reflects my experience as someone who’s experienced Catholic culture in multiple parts of the US.

All right—let’s take a walk down the aisle!

The Traditionalist Catholic Wedding

Format: A simple marriage ceremony followed by a full Latin Mass. One popular tradition at the end of the Mass is for the bride to place her bouquet in front of a statue of the Virgin Mary and spend a few moments in prayer.

Attire: For the bride and bridal party, shoulders and upper arms MUST be covered. Wraps or cardigans may be used to accomplish this if a suitable dress can’t be purchased off the rack (particularly for bridesmaids). Head coverings are required for women, and accordingly, elaborate bridal veils are common.

Music: The Mass itself is usually chanted. For the processional, popular choices include Charpentier’s “Te Deum”, Parry’s “I Was Glad,” and various hymns to Mary. There’s also “O God Beyond All Praising,” one of the very few post-1960 hymns deemed acceptable to traditionalist Catholics.

Fun fact: The Catholic Church actively discourages the bride being walked down the aisle by her father, saying that it’s a relic of a time when women were treated as property. In the US it’s permitted as a matter of “local custom,” but many traditional Catholic brides opt to walk with both parents or with their soon-to-be spouse.

The Standard Issue Catholic Wedding

Format: A brief wedding ceremony inserted into a typical Catholic Mass.

Attire: A little more modest than a non-Catholic wedding, but you can get away with bare shoulders, depending on the priest. Veils are treated as a fashion choice rather than a required covering.

Music: Recorded music and secular songs (except for some classical pieces) are strictly prohibited, but within that parameter, choices vary widely depending on the couple’s preferences and the abilities of the musicians. Popular choices for the processional are “Jesu Joy of Man’s Desiring,” “Canon in D,” Clarke’s “Trumpet Voluntary,” and various works by Handel.

Fun fact: It's customary to invite the priest to the reception (where copious amounts of alcohol will be served—Jesus turned water to wine at a wedding, after all!). At the most recent wedding I attended, the priest was last seen donning a purple cowboy hat and joining a conga line.

The "Oops, I Married a Protestant" Wedding

Format: Similar to a standard Catholic wedding, but you only get the first half of the Mass: the Liturgy of the Word, aka Bible readings. Also a few prayers, most notably the Lord's Prayer.

Attire: Same as the standard Catholic wedding.

Music: Similar to a standard Catholic wedding, but priests are generally more agreeable to including Protestant hymns when one party is, in fact, a Protestant.

Fun fact: The Church has no issues with a Catholic and a Protestant having a full Mass for their wedding, but somebody will have to tell Grandma that she can't take communion in a Catholic church even though she's been doing it in her own church for 80 years. You may also have to endure complaints from Protestant relatives regarding the "Catholic calisthenics" - sit down, stand up, kneel, stand up...

The Catholic Beach Wedding

Format: Catholic weddings MUST take place in a church. This can present a problem if your heart is set on a beach wedding. But if you have the money and the logistical know-how, there’s a solution: Find a Catholic church located near the ocean and have your wedding there.

Attire: Ranges from traditional to modern, but generally on the loose, flowing side due to the beach setting. Also, expensive—if you have the funds for a destination wedding, there’s generally money to burn on a gown.

Music: You have two choices: take your chances on the local musicians, or fly in the musicians of your choice (provided that the hosting church will even allow that). Aren’t logistics fun?!?

Fun fact: Because most priests are reluctant to perform weddings for people they don’t know, Catholic beach weddings are usually BYOP—Bring Your Own Priest. Given the massive amount of paperwork that is required to perform a wedding outside your home diocese, the poor guy will probably need a beach vacation after everything you’ve put him through.

[frownyalfred]

I've seen this trope before in a couple fics where a pack will naturally start emitting "BACK OFF" pheromones to outsiders when one of their own is either sick or pregnant. I can't stop thinking about just how much that dinky lake house must be screaming "DO NOT ENTER" to people who are passing by. Especially with Clark and Alfred doing regular patrols.

Yes! The patrols spread their scent even further to the property boundaries and beyond so everyone who’s even a few miles downwind knows not to get near.

It probably smells so safe and like home to Jason. But I’m sure any outsiders who visit (Leslie, maybe Dan the OC alpha someday) probably wince every time they take a breath. Like that’s a PACK.