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sacredstarcatcher · 1 year

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Cruel Summer - Part 2

Jake & Sam x Reader

WARNINGS: language, mentions of alcohol consumption/intoxication, mentions of self-pleasure, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, semi-public sex, a little angst

Part 1

Part 3

A week passes after your encounter with Jake. You head back to work and teach the tiniest growing minds by day, but by night, the thought of him plagues you until you can’t help but imagine your hands are his, dancing in circles under the covers of your queen size bed. He and his brother briefly mentioned that they’re a fairly well known band, and you for sure believed it when they were asked for a photo at the bar. The amount of photos of him at your fingertips was daunting and the peek at his instagram surely didn’t curb your appetite either. Yet still no text, no call, no carrier pigeon. You’re left feeling unsatisfied by every definition of the word.

You get a text from an unknown number on Thursday evening inviting you to a bonfire. Playing coy, you ask who it is. The disappointment is written all over your face when the response on your screen reads “Josh!”.

You ask if you can bring anything, but he says, “just yourself!” before sending his address and jokingly requesting you don’t tell anyone where he lives so he doesn’t have to move for the sixth time.

When you arrive you enter the bustling residence you nervously search the premises for someone, anyone you know. The first one you spot is Josh, who pulls you into a bone crushing hug.

“I have to introduce you to a few of the main characters before I let you loose in here. Are you ready?” Josh, who you’re realizing has a flair for the dramatic even offstage, is eager to pull you into the living room. You stumble in and immediately lay eyes on Jake, lounging on the sofa, smoking something you’re sure isn’t a cigarette. He doesn’t see you, deep in conversation with a man in glasses. You take a deep breath, calming yourself as Josh continues on through his expansive home. You trail along until he stops in front of who you assume he’s introducing you to. He’s tall with dark curly hair, arms out in a striped tank top.

“First up is Daniel. Daniel is our drummer and on evenings like this, our den mother. Truly the most responsible of us all. Though the standards among us for that particular trait are on the floor.” Daniel smiles brightly at the two of you and you accept his handshake.

“You can call me Danny,” he offers in a gentle voice, and you’re immediately feeling comfortable in his presence. His personality makes you feel like you’ve been wrapped up in a towel fresh from the dryer after a hot shower on a rainy day. He’s so personable you’re not sure if anyone could resist his charm.

Just as you’re about to follow Josh onward, Danny is ambushed from behind, someone hopping up onto his back in a blur. All you can see is a vision of a purple tee, dark hair, and blinding white sneakers. You step back to avoid the commotion as Danny steadies himself, looking up at the person perched on his back.

The attacker meets your eyes and you see yet another pair of those honey brown irises. You think for a moment that it’s Jake, but once you see that his eyes are pinched at the corners from the happy grin on his face, you know it has to be someone else.

“This is the baby of the family. Say hello, Samuel. Be polite.” Josh leans and whispers loudly behind his hand. “We’re still teaching him manners.”

Sam does as he’s told, blinking his long lashes at you before letting out an energetic, “Hello!” and dropping to his feet. You can’t help but smile as Josh introduces you by name and Sam repeats it back to him, testing the way it feels on his lips as his warm hand squeezes yours in a handshake.

“How many of you are there?” you ask, your words really directed at Josh, but you’re enamored by Sam’s friendly smile and charisma, unable to look away. Your hands are still clasped together, your eyes locked.

“One more,” Sam responds with a soft smile, his voice a little quiet, telling you his response is just for you. “But she’s not here.”

Josh is quickly whisked away by another party guest and it startles the both of you to the point of retracting your hands like you were caught stealing from the cookie jar. “Uh… Do you have a drink yet? I’ll show you the kitchen.” Sam immediately makes you feel less alone, leading the way as you give a gentle wave to Danny.

Sam, who declares himself an amateur mixologist, takes it upon himself to create a special cocktail for you. “Sure, yeah, the rum and coke with cherry is good. But you have to take it one step further. You have to test the limits. Here,” he says, handing you a red solo cup. You accept it, smiling at his enthusiasm, and take a tentative sip. It’s delicious, and he knows you like it when he spots your wide eyes.

“What’s your secret?” you ask, thoroughly impressed. You’re grinning, unable to hide your smile when his own is so contagious.

“A little bit of grenadine. You seem like you appreciate the sweeter things,” he responds with a wink. You feel color rush to your cheeks, so you hide behind your cup and take another sip.

Your conversation is interrupted when you’re pulled by the elbow out of the kitchen and around the corner. It becomes clear you’ve been snatched away by Jake and he’s taking you down a dark hallway. You can’t help but be excited, giggling his name trying to keep up with his quick steps. He pulls you into the nearest closet and shuts the door under your arm. You feel his plush lips against yours and can tell he’s fighting a smile.

“Couldn’t be bothered to say hello?” He’s immediately pulling down your low cut shirt, his warm mouth leaving marks in its wake as he kisses his way down your chest, stretching the neckline. He folds over the cup of your bra, frantically gaining access without risking someone seeing you entirely naked in his twin’s coat closet.

“That’s pretty funny coming from someone who couldn’t be bothered to text me.” You hope your tine conveys your annoyance and built up sexual frustration. He bites your nipple harshly in response, eliciting a gasp. It must have worked.

“It’s been 6 days, you missed me that terribly?” he says, and you hear his stupid smirk even though you can’t see it in the dark. He’s trying to finagle his wrist to get his hand into your high waisted jeans, but he’s not making any progress and is getting frustrated.

“Just thought you might have, I don’t know, texted to make sure I got home safe?” you respond, swatting his hands away to undo the four buttons on your pants. Once they’re out of the way he fumbles in the dark to get into your underwear, fingers immediately collecting your wetness and rubbing tight, precise circles where you need it most. It silences you, which you think was his aim. The only other sound to leave your mouth is a gentle, “oh.”

“Oh?” he mocks, parroting the noise you thought went undetected back at you. “Not so mad at me now, are you? That a girl…” You can’t even attempt to be upset with him when your body is at his mercy. His praise makes you feel like you’re floating, dizzy even, and it doesn’t take long for him to have you right where he wants you. You feel the brush of his hair against your face and for a moment, you’re picturing Sam. Sam? The Sam you just met? He was handsome, sure. And tall, he’s very tall. He has big hands. I wonder what they’d-

Nope. You decide that’s enough of that and focus on Jake again.

“Want to feel you. Inside me. Jake,” you let out, pawing at his belt.

“I’ve created a monster, huh?” he teases, withdrawing his hand to pull his own faded, distressed jeans down just enough as you handle your own. He unceremoniously lifts your leg and pins you to the wall, holding you there while he rushes to get inside you. Your head lolls back against what’s probably Josh’s winter coat but you’re unable to care once he’s deep inside you, his thumb already bringing you to your end. It’s not long before you’re tightening around him, clutching his blue shirt in your fists as if he’s going somewhere.

You come down, letting out a gentle laugh and pushing him away just enough that he pulls out and you can sink to your knees. Once you take him in your mouth, you’re greeted by your favorite sound; a low, surprised groan that rumbles through him. You can’t help how pleased you are with yourself, nor can you control how it spurs you on to take as much of him as you can down your throat.

“Fuck, that’s good.” There he goes again, praising you, making you feel light and heady as you work to please him. You know you are when his hand finds its way into your hair and begins to tighten. Nothing on earth could stop you in this moment, and you’re soon rewarded as he stills your ministrations and spills inside your mouth, airy moans filling the closet as if he’s trying to go undetected. You stand soon after, tucking in your shirt and buttoning your pants.

“Fucking text me this time, ‘kay?” you say into the darkness before popping the door open and slipping out. You make your way to the bathroom nearby to make sure you don’t look like you’ve just been slutted out in a closet.

You try your hardest to assimilate yourself into the party, realizing you’re incredibly lucky that the bonfire finally started and everyone went outside. You grab a seltzer from the fridge and head through the sliding doors towards the bonfire, waiting for Jake to join you eventually. When you get outside, you spot Sam standing by his lonesome.

“Is that safe?” you ask him, watching Josh toss a wooden pallet onto the fire.

“Probably not. We’re lucky he hasn’t pulled the torch out yet.” Sam sips his red cup, looking at you out of the corner of his eye before he speaks. “You smell like sex.” You decide not to respond and sip your seltzer in silence.

“And you stole one of my seltzers?”

“You are so the youngest sibling.” He laughs at that one, and you appreciate that he’s got a good sense of humor.

“How’d you end up here anyway?” he asks, looking up at the growing flames. You look over and admire the amber light that warms his face and darkens his hair.

“I met your brothers at a bar last week.” You try to keep it short, avoiding the explanation.

“Ahh. So Jake booty called you here.”

“Actually, Josh invited me. We’re friends.” Your response is curt, but he’s unphased and chuckles anyway. You decide to lighten up a little, seeing as he’s clearly able to take a joke, so why can’t you? “I’m a kindergarten teacher, so Josh and I really hit it off. He knows all his numbers AND colors.”

Sam lets out a cackle at that, tossing his head back. Your eyes are drawn to his long neck and adam's apple, now it bobs as his infectious laugh echoes through the woods.

“What’s so funny?”

You peel your eyes off of Sam’s seemingly delicious neck to see a woman standing next to him.

“Oh, nothing. Just making fun of Josh.” Sam is suddenly tense as he lowers his voice and delivers the short response.

“Fuck you!” comes from a few feet away; he must have heard. You laugh and watch as Sam puts his hands in his pockets, withdrawing. Not that you know him incredibly well, but it seems out of character compared to the last hour or so you’ve seen him interacting with others. It all clicks into place when you see her snake an arm around his, coaxing him to come with her.

You take the silent moment to sneak away, not wanting to spend another second with those two. You instead catch back up with Jake, who sits with you for the better part of an hour until it’s so late you’re yawning into your drink. He kindly walks you to your car, a hand on your lower back.

“I’ll text you?”

You smile at his attempt and get into your car, heading home with a smile on your face.

-oOo-

The end of the school year brings you an overwhelming sense of relief.

You spend the first week following the last day of school taking care of yourself; catching up on sleep, filling your fridge, getting your hair and nails done, watching the newest season of your favorite show, and even deep cleaning your apartment. When you’re at your very best, seemingly out of things to do, you’re left with the impulse to text Jake.

You spend the second week following the last day of school in and out of Jake’s bed in various states of undress at seemingly any time of day. It always goes the same way; you don’t overstay your welcome, always grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, slipping on your sandals, and ducking out the back door to the alley where you started parking your car.

The weekend comes and you find yourself flashing your ID at a bouncer once again. Heading to the back of the bar, you spot your favorite set of brothers at a high top table playing some sort of drinking game involving a coin. You stop by the bar to grab a drink and then sneak up behind Jake, tugging gently at his sleeve.

“Oh, hey!” he says over the music, moving to the side to make space for you at the small table. He leans casually on the wall, sipping his beer, making no move to give you a hug or kiss. A stinging reminded of your situationship, but you brush it off and greet his brothers in stride.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages, dearest. Aren’t you temporarily funemployed?” Josh wiggles his brows at you.

“For now. I start that summer theater camp next week.” You pull the toothpick of olives from your drink and place them on your napkin absentmindedly. Sam immediately swoops in, snatching the pink plastic sword and plucking one off the toothpick with his teeth.

“Oh yeah. When’s the show?” He asks, chewing aggressively. You watch him with a surprised look on your face, secretly admiring how comfortable he’s become around you.

“Last weekend in July.” Josh immediately swipes his phone open and begins putting the date in his calendar.

“We’ll be there. Josh will remind me. Right, Josh?” Sam’s on his second olive now. You smile warmly at Sam and his enthusiasm.

“Thankfully, I’ll be in Detroit,” Jake mentions. You roll your eyes, affectionately swatting at him.

“You’re such a fucking grouch,” you groan. He holds his glass up in agreement before downing the last of his drink.

The rest of the evening goes on as usual. Josh and Sam bicker, Jake observes and occasionally throws in his opinion. You eventually find yourself standing outside in the late night summer breeze saying goodbye to the three of them.

“Oh yeah, you guys probably won’t see each other for a while!” Sam says as you hug Jake goodbye. You pull away with a confused expression, looking between the both of them.

“I’m gonna be traveling for a bit. I’ll be back in like… two weeks.” He shoots a glare over at Sam, who has already moved on and is searching the streets for their uber.

“Oh,” you respond, trying to seem unaffected. “That should be fun.” It’s weirdly quiet now. Josh is watching the exchange, but pretending to be on his phone.

“Yep,” Jake says, stretching and trying to stop a yawn. “Well, we better get going.”

Your heart is knocking from the inside of your chest, begging you to tell him you’re going to miss him. It’s the truth, after all. You’ve become so accustomed to spending either your morning or evening or both with him, that you can only imagine how lonely you’re going to feel when he’s away. But who are you to feel that way when he hadn’t even told you he was leaving, and you’re standing in front of him, too afraid to ask where he’s going?

“We’ll keep you company while he’s gone,” Sam says, his voice pulling you from the spiral in your head. He must have sensed some tension and it’s simply in his nature to relieve it. You give him a grateful smile and pull out your keys.

“I’ll see you guys around,” you offer, giving a small wave and retreating to your car. As soon as you shut the door, the tears come.

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A/N: Thank you guys for loving part 1!! As always fee free to message me to be added to the taglist. For reference, this is going to be a smutty Jake fic at the start as a slow-burn with Sam develops. hehehehe. <3

TAGLIST: @reesetrippingthelight @samstopochico @jordierama @jakesgrapejuice @spark-my-nature

Part 3

#greta van fleet fic #greta van fic #greta van smut #greta van fleet #jake gvf #josh gvf #danny gvf #sam gvf #sam kiszka #sammy kiszka #jake kiszka #jake kiszka fanfic #sam kiszka fanfiction #forbidden twins #greta van fleet smut #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fluff

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mortumslab · 3 months

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Remembering to be Human - Chapter 2

The second chapter of my rendition of Retribution into Revelations and Revolution. Hope you enjoy it!

tw: suicidal thoughts, ideations. Alcohol use.

Link to Chapter 1:

During the cab ride, you’d expected there to be only three outcomes. Death was the most attractive. Now, you suppose part of you dared hope to be held by Julia following a life-changing experience.

“Jules… I’m sorry. For everything.” You’re not sure why you’re breaking the silence, but you need to understand what’s going to happen next.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” She says softly, turning to you, running her hand down your back - shivers trail up your arms. “You only saw one option to bring them to heel. And I want to help.”

She slowly gets up and finds two robes. You wonder, briefly, why she has two but suspect the answer would be as funny as it would be awkward. Donning the robe, with a flourish not unlike Heartbreak’s, Julia giggles. “You developed a flair for the dramatic, didn’t you.”

Smiling softly, you reply, “Sidestep wasn’t much for the dramatics. Neither was she one to cause a scene. I needed to learn to do both to get my job done.”

“Your job…” She bites her lip in concentration as she leads you to the kitchen table. “What is your plan?” You did not expect to have this conversation today, but you’ve got nothing left to lose. And everything left to gain.

“I wanted to lead them to the Farm. To what the Directive is doing. The Director is above the current administration and beyond what is expected or tolerated.” You feel the anger suffusing you again. Righteous. Purposeful. Your crusade. “Begin by undermining the current establishment. I told Blaze, you, Chen, and anyone who would listen that the people you work for are the enemies. That you’re working for them.” You don’t blame her, and by her reaction to that, she knows you don’t.

“I lead them to Deveraux. But there are still more mysteries to solve. When Los Diabolos is cleansed of those that favor the actions of the Farm, then I will take the fight to them. To finish this. Once and for all.” You feel like a warlord giving your final speech before a battle. Despite being naked in a bathrobe in your… girlfriend’s home. Another weird thought.

“Okay.” She says very simply. Which almost makes you laugh. “Then we need to start by bringing in the others.” She’s serious, and you know she’s right, but you flinch anyway.

“Danny… he’s not going to like this.” You know he’s not been the same since your battle. You hurt him in a way you never meant to. You meant to get killed, to be stopped. Charge just couldn’t do the job. And neither could Lady Argent.

“I know. And you’ll have to beg for his forgiveness. He idolizes Sidestep, but unless you apologize, he’ll be a loose end that we can’t tie up.” You know she means she won’t be able to help if not all the Rangers are on board. You expected as much.

“Then we’ll have to convince him my— our goals are worth it.” You see her smile at your slip. “I know there are documents that can help. I’ll get Dr. Mortum to draw them up for me. That’s another problem I need to solve.” You know you’re talking out loud, but everything is on the table now.

“What do you mean?” She frowns. “You work with Mortum, too? No wonder your armor is so powerful. And your disintegration powers… do they work like her gun?” You realize that no one knows about the neutered nanovores. And remember that Argent will be livid that you possessed her. Oh well, you have an idea to fix that. Not a good one.

You hesitate briefly, “I don’t have disintegration powers like that.” You’re not sure how to say it, but you were the hero of the Nanosurge, so it’s not like you don’t know what they’re capable of. “They’re actually neutered nanovores; it’s what I used Argent for back last year.” You realize she probably didn’t know about that, but her reaction tells you she suspected it.

“Arya… you know how dangerous those are.” She’s not chiding you, more worried about your safety. The original creator of the nanovores was eaten by their own design.

“I know. Mortum reprogrammed them. The casing on my left wrist - the one you almost destroyed,” you say with a small smile, “is where they’re housed. They don’t eat organic matter. And the Rat King and I control them.” Now she’s confused, it’s a funny expression.

“Rat… King?” She’s looking at you like you’ve become a victim of a Disney film. “wait… Blaze mentioned he felt like… like rats were talking to him when you nearly killed yourself after Deverauex.”

“Psychopathor’s gun runs off a weird psi-sensitive targeting system. It’s hard to explain, but I called this pentad of rat brains the Rat King, and he seems to like it.” You’re talking a little fast now because everything you say sounds ridiculous. “And when I called the Directive on him last year, I used them to remove the gun and take it.” She laughs suddenly, “That was you? But it was a deeper voice?” And now you have to spill that last bean.

“After Heartbreak I developed new powers… and I became an alpha-level telepath. I can control other people for a time. Though higher willpower makes it difficult. It doesn’t hurt them; just gives them a headache.” She looks a bit put off. But not upset.

“Alpha-level.” She whispers softly. “Fuck.”

Fuck, indeed. You nod but don’t say anything.

“So I need to speak with Mortum, get documents from Heartbreak, and probably let her into the fact that Eden was me all along.” You finish your sentence and realize Julia looks like someone smacked her.

It takes her a minute to process what you said. “No wonder we got along so well.” She sounds exasperated but in a ‘my girlfriend is insane’ and less of an ‘oh god, I fucked a villain.’ “I knew she was connected to you, but I didn’t… how does that work?”

"I found her in a coma 3 years ago. She was wasting away and brain-dead. No one coming for her. I saved her body; maybe one day I can save her mind. But with whatever Heartbreak did to me, it was very easy to operate her as though she were my own body." You feel your cheeks reddening. "I tried to avoid you, but you don’t let up easily.” You know she was probably onto Eden as your liaison.

“I knew she was connected to Heartbreak, but I wasn’t sure how. She— you kept dodging me so well.” You smile softly. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t want to get her involved with you as well as Mortum. Things were, and are, getting so difficult.”

There’s a long silence. She’s thinking - not that you can see into her mind, but she’s biting her lip in a way that also furrows her brow. “So what do you need me to do?”

“I need you to collect the Rangers, and I guess we need to discuss this. I can’t give up the villainy act or come out as Sidestep again. The Directive will be all over us and you guys can’t get caught up in this until we’re ready to completely bring it all down.” You’re serious, and you know she can tell.

“So you’ll still have to be a villain to the public?” She’s worried, but you’re not. You have her now.

“Yeah… for now. For now, operating on the underground gets me connections the Rangers cannot. And allies we may need. I know you’ve been hunting Hollow Ground and I plan to go for them as well.” You see a flicker in her face. It’s not the same anger, but… nervousness?

“What?” You ask.

She ignores that question, “I agree we’ll need the underground contacts. I guess it’s only a matter of how we still pretend to all be enemies. That is if Danny and Argent are willing to forgive you.”

“I agree, but why did you flinch when I said Hollow Ground.” You’re not letting her weasel out of it.

“When… when I first met you. God, this is gonna sound so dumb now. I had already seen Hollow Ground’s face. Well. At least this version. She’s the second one. The first one was her brother. This is the one who killed Hood. And when I saw your face. You both look so similar.” She’s not making any sense. You don’t know Hollow Ground. At all.

She’s still speaking, “—I looked into her and found her youngest sister. But she was reported dead. And I had suspected you were fleeing from their business. That was why you hid your face. I never suspected… the Re-Gene angle.” She doesn’t even stumble over the last part. You hide your affection with a swift look at the ground, biting your lip. You know the Farm uses genetics from viable, powerful boosts. Maybe Hollow Ground is partly your genetics? You repeat this to Julia.

She nods, “That would make sense. Both Hollow Grounds are immensely powerful. The name came from a geokinetic user, at first. The current one, I believe, is a telepath.” You understand now. Why no one knows Hollow Ground. “She’s erasing their memories. I can do it, I don’t, but I could.”

“Okay, so… we collect the Rangers, and you’re going to go solve the issues with Mortum?” Julia looks excited to actually do something. Happier than she’s been in a long time, except maybe half an hour ago.

“I need to explain to her who Eden is and bring her into my confidence. At the very least try. Hopefully, she doesn’t shoot me or anything.” You’re half-joking, but she’s pulled a gun on you before.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“God no, imagine the former marshall and a dead hero showing up to meet her; she’d probably pull out some monster of a machine and obliterate us.” You start laughing at the idea. Laughter. The first belly laugh you’ve had since Heartbreak’s release - since your manic laughter at the gala. Except this is pure.

Julia is laughing, too. The idiot. The lovely idiot.

You leave the apartment. A bit numb. It’s dark now, but inside you’re bright. You’re invincible. The hardest secrets you’ve kept are out, and it’s a relief. You knew being perceived as a villain was going to hurt. But you knew your enemies were on the side of angels. So you couldn’t be. You kept trying to get into the villain aesthetic but you never could. The only truly heinous things you’d done were hurting your friends. Though, at the time you had no idea the depths of their love for you. And, you admit, you wouldn’t have cared. Heartbreak scarred your emotions. Untied you from reality. Dissociation, like Dr. Finch said. Something that you managed to regain when you spilled to Jules. Parts of it, at least. Maybe the rest will recover when you finally have the Rangers on your side. Or when this is finally over.

You arrive back to the penthouse; Savannah looks up, readying herself to leave.

“Good night,” you smile at her. She works late, but usually just takes contracts from people who need a former telepath to help them make deals. Your cover story.

Moving to your desk, you press the small button under the etched wood. In front of you, the wall shimmers and reveals your plans. Your board of civil unrest. Connections from Devereaux to Carter to the Mayor. To Hollow Ground and the folks she has purchased. Someone you probably share genetics with. You’ll have to deal with that soon.

Pulling out your phone you call Dr. Mortum, knowing she’ll still be awake.

“Hello, mon amie, what can I do for you?”

“Hey, I need to talk to you. Or, rather my Boss does.”

“In person… or…”

“Yes… there have been some… developments, and she needs to share some secrets.”

“Okay… where?”

“Joes is fine. She’ll be in armor, but she’ll want to talk privately inside the bar. She’s not going to hurt you. She doesn’t hurt innocent people.”

There’s a soft laugh, maybe slightly sarcastic. “Mon amie, I am anything but innocent.”

“You’re not the one she’s leading a crusade against.”

“Very well. Tonight?”

“If possible, yes. In the next hour.”

“Will you be there?”

You swallow hard, “In spirit.” You try to make it sound light, but it probably sounds forced.

Now you don your armor, and without letting yourself overthink it, you make your way to the garage where Rosie hangs out till the late evening hours. She’s still here, and she gives you a weird look as you approach and, without hesitating, remove your helmet. Rosie’s eyes widen briefly before she says, “Holy shit, you’re Sidestep. You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Good telepaths never stay dead.” You say though you wish sometimes you had. No, no time for those thoughts.

“I just… wow okay.” She takes a second to collect herself. “Why now? Why are you revealing yourself?” She’s asking the right questions, you’re glad you’ve trusted her.

“Because we’re about to make some serious progress and some dangerous, but reliable allies. You know I was a Ranger associate before I died?” She looks suspiciously at you, but then her eyes widen.

“You’re going to work with them?” She looks a little scared, maybe angry.

“In a sense. They’re going to be brought in on the plan because this plan requires us all working together. If we’re going to bring down the government, we need the ones with the power. And they trusted Sidestep.”

“So what do you need me to do?” You can tell she accepted that, that there was a reason her boss never killed. Almost an anti-hero. A vigilante.

“I need you to take me to Joes and then to Ranger HQ. If I don’t get killed at Joes first.” You’re going to just make this a big day. For everyone.

“Oh.” She looks nervous, but then shrugs and hops in the van.

You stop for a moment, breathe, and then, using your helmet HUD, send a message to Ortega to let her know you’re going to Mortum and then to the HQ.

She replies almost instantly, giving you butterflies; who is this person you’ve become? The message is short but sweet.

“K. I have them assembled. They’re confused, but I told them we needed to trust you. I love you.”

You respond with a heart emoji, not yet sure how to say it back, but swearing to yourself you’ll work on it. Your second thought is wondering why Mortum installed a messaging system with emojis into the HUD, but that’s neither here nor there.

You settle calmly in the back of the van, spreading your senses and assuring no one has noticed you. All is calm, for now. No dead spots to indicate the Special Directive is onto you. Though you’re going to be on their radar soon if you weren’t already. Heartbreak isn’t known as a telepath. Yet.

Arriving at Joes, you extend your awareness into the surrounding crowd. While there aren’t many people here, you need to be sure that no one means you any harm. Maybe you’re getting paranoid. Paranoia keeps you alive. It also kept you isolated from Julia. That’s a thought for later, this is now. You know the bar usually doesn’t cater to as popular villains as yourself, but you need to make a show for it. Mortum needs to believe you’re not some part of a Rangers plot - though that’s not entirely untrue now. She probably knows of Sidestep but doesn’t know Arya is Heartbreak.

You stride into the villain's entrance at Joes. The guards move swiftly out of your way. They haven’t had you here in this body, in this armor. Yet, they know you. You’re Heartbreak. Scourge of the Rangers, a danger to heroes and villains alike. But inside you’re nervous. Thankful for the mirrored helmet of Heartbreak, showing nothing of you underneath.

You scan the room and notice Mortum sitting in the corner. She sees you. You’re hard to miss. The rest of the crowd parts way and you approach her table.

“Good evening, Dr. Mortum.” You say, the voice modulator making you sound more like a comic book villain than ever before.

“Good evening, Madame Heartbreak.” Her voice is steely, but not hostile. She doesn’t appear to be armed. You curse softly, you’d said “she” over the phone. Oh well, too late now.

“I was hoping we could take this conversation somewhere private. Joes has a privacy room for these occasions.”

“Very well, as long as there’s no second location.” She says this with a hint of a smile, but it’s predatory. It’s far different than anything she would give Eden.

You nod at Joe, who you know overheard you. He turns to a second door towards the right of the bar. It slides open and reveals a private cocktail room. You had called ahead while suiting up to make sure it was free.

Settling yourself down into a chair, you wait for the good doctor to seat herself across from you.

“Do you two want anything?” Joe looks nervous but maintains his composure in front of a big-time villain.

“Just a bottle of whiskey, the stuff Eden likes,” you say.

“Very good,” and he shuts the door; you hear the hiss of the locking as it becomes secure and soundproof.

Mortum is watching you. Even though the dampeners are active in this room, you can see her processing.

“So the suit is to your liking?” She finally breaks the silence.

“Yes, it is everything and more.” You know there’s a lilt of sadness to your voice. This partnership might soon end. You’re not sure if the modulator masks it well or not. Apparently not as Mortum looks slightly less comfortable.

“So, the suit is not what brought us here then?” She sounds nervous but the doctor never was one to back down.

“No.” And you watch as Joe returns with the bottle and two glasses, bowing slightly before returning through the door. No more distractions. No more hesitations.

You reach up to flick the release mechanism of the helmet. It hisses slightly as it powers down. Your heart is racing, and you’re thankful she isn’t boosted. At least you don’t think she is. You hope she doesn’t know how anxious this is making you.

Taking the helmet off you fix your braid of silvery hair and drape it loosely over your shoulder. You can see your reflection on the mirrored helm. Your face angular and pale. Your eyes sharp, grey and tired. Your cheekbones high, with some moisture from the helmet.

“Arya Svitkona.” Mortum whispers. You can see her running the numbers. Crunching the data.

“Dr. Mortum, I… I’m happy to meet you in person.” You’re not sure about this plan. If Mortum no longer wishes to work together, you’ll have to gather information on Heartbreak on your own. And you’ll lose a best friend. You need to remember what it’s like to be human because, until today, you were slipping.

“As am I, mon cherie.” She looks at you suspiciously. You suppose you never told her what this meeting was about.

“I… I’m not sure where to start on this.” Your mask slips; you should probably remain strong, but you feel tears. When did you become sappy?

“At the beginning?” She suggests, with a hint of a smile. Maybe a nervous smile, but a smile. Villains probably don’t break into tears around her often.

“Eden and I are… are the same.” You know that probably doesn’t clear anything up. You should have rehearsed this.

“What… what does that mean?”

“I am an alpha-level telepath.” You begin. This shouldn’t be this hard. “And after my apparent death at Heartbreak,” pausing to smile at the name you chose for yourself, “I gained the ability to control bodies. But, usually, it’s difficult if they’re at all conscious or on guard. I found Eden in the hospital 3 years ago. She was in a coma and wasting away. I was able to save her body, but not her mind.” You pause. Mortum is enraptured. “And as a former hero, I can’t just walk around in this skin - you even knew my name. So I used Eden as a go-between.” And here comes the hard part. “But when I met you, I didn’t realize I’d find more than business associations. That I’d find a best friend.”

Mortum looks stunned for a moment. You had flirted with her at first but quickly broke that off when you realized what you felt for Julia. But Mortum and Eden had a close friendship.

“Well… that’s certainly something.” She looks upset for a moment but then looks back at you and asks, “Best friends don’t make the habit of lying to one another.” There it is. The betrayal.

“I… being Sidestep, I couldn’t show myself in a bar like this. Not until I was established. And… and there’s another reason I used Eden. I wanted to feel human, just for a little bit. And not have to worry… worry about…” At this point, a sob racks your body. Just for a second before you calm yourself.

“Mon cherie?” She actually seems worried. Why is no one responding as they should today? First Julia now Mortum. Humans are odd.

You press the release on your left glove. It hisses softly, like the helmet. Taking it off, you flex your fingers and then roll up the nanofiber mesh. Revealing the orange tattoos in the light.

“Oh…” Mortum is, again, speechless. You have a knack for it, you suppose.

“A cuckoo,” is all you can say. It’s pretty sufficient for an explanation.

“I need a moment.” She sits back and takes a large drink of her whiskey, downing three fingers in a single swallow.

You sit there. Staring at the woman who became a confidante. At the person with whom you shared many, many evenings with. Laughing. Existing. Being human.

"So you have been masquerading around in... in Eden, but instead I have been talking to you? To Arya?" She looks confused still, but not angry. Good.

"Yes. And I told you I hated lying to you. The friendship we had was real. And I understand if you need time. Your friendship is more important to me than any business we have.” You pause for a moment, before pressing on.

“I had something to ask of you but this needed to be on the table first." You know the business with Heartbreak is important, but you also need to keep this friendship. For yourself as much as for the survival of Heartbreak's career.

"I'll need a few days... but I think I'll be okay." She doesn't look angry. Mostly tired. "What was it that you needed?" You must have piqued her curiosity.

"I'm moving forward with my plans a little differently than I intended... and I need information on the Heartbreak incident." Your voice breaks at the end. It’s different when it’s your name.

"On... Heartbreak... you know as well as I do, mon cherie, that it's been sealed and covered up. I suppose I don't get to know why this is needed?" Now is the time to test how far you're willing to go. You suppose you might as well be honest.

"I'm going to convince the Rangers to join me in taking down the people responsible for the Special Directive, those responsible for Heartbreak. Those who get away with oppression on a grand scale." Your anger breaks through. Fortifying your words. Good. You sound far more confident than the Arya from earlier.

"That's... certainly a plan." She looks genuinely stunned."Very well. I will send you what I know when I get to my office. I knew about Sidestep’s— your death. So, I collected what I knew in case things were locked down. Which they were."

"Thank you. Seriously." You have no idea how to show your sincerity. "I will leave you to your thoughts then. Keep the bottle. I'll tell Joe to leave you be."

She's quiet for a moment while you put your helmet and glove back on. The world becomes safer as you slip into another mask.

"Arya?" She sounds worried. You don’t turn around. "Please don't get yourself killed." And then she goes silent. Lost in thought.

You hesitate for a moment before exiting into the main room. The crowd again parting for Heartbreak. You growl slightly at two men getting rough over the quantum slots. The modulator makes you sound effectively intimidating. You reach the parking lot without any further confrontations.

"Hey!" A voice behind you tears you from your thoughts.

A well-dressed man with sharp features, maybe Asian inheritance, strides up to you. A little too quickly. Turning you raise to your full height, about a head over him.

“Yes?” You try to act passive and uncaring, but you know Jake Manalo. And you know who he works for. Hollow Ground.

“I have a message for you from my boss.” You wonder what prompted this. Sure you’ve been causing issues. Stealing from her network. Umbral’s cash usually gets sent to her. Now, it’s dispersed amongst charities in Los Diabolos. You don’t think you’ve intentionally slighted her. Not yet, at least.

“What is it?” Act mysterious; you’re good at it. You did it for years as Sidestep. Julia is the only one who truly knows you. Well. Julia and Mortum. You see Mortum’s car pull out from behind the bar. The car sticks out in a place like this.

“A letter.” He reaches into his jacket pocket; you know he’s only reaching for a letter. Heartbreak’s telepathy remains a hidden and useful factor. Though you feign tension, anyway. Dramatic as always.

You take the letter as he hands it to you. Your helm never leaves his line of sight, though your eyes flit to the letter. It simply says ‘Heartbreak.’

“Anything else?” You need to get going, but a personal message from Hollow Ground before you’re to meet with the Rangers - people who don’t even believe in the kingpin’s existence - is quite the luck.

“Just that they want you to remember your true allies.” He says this without a hint of irony or even a knowing look. His mind reads that he truly is delivering a message and doesn’t know exactly what or why. He may be the kingpin’s right-hand man, but he’s not in the know about this. It might be precautionary against unknown adversaries. Or maybe Hollow Ground knows you’re a telepath.

Right now, however, you remain as though you’re not sure what he’s talking about. Because, truthfully, you’re not. You’ve yet to make any true allies besides Rosie and your other relationships are still rocky. Even if Julia loves you. And though you love her, your despair and isolation are creeping back. You need to get moving.

Without a response, you turn and redirect Manalo’s thoughts elsewhere. You know it worked when he’s distracted by a car horn. By the time he looks for you again, you’re gone. Telepathy makes for a good exit.

Climbing into the van, Rosie gives you a strange look. You don’t remove your helmet this time. Too many eyes. Instead, you tell her to drive you to the Ranger HQ. It’s time to come clean.

You know you’ve kept the Rangers waiting for a while, which doesn’t make the best first impression. But you didn’t expect to be accosted by Hollow Ground’s lackey first.

After scanning the letter, you open it in the streetlights as the van speeds to the city center.

Heartbreak,

I believe it is time we met in person. I have some interesting information for you.

Come alone. Tuesday at 9 P.M. 1343 East Coast View Dr. Los Diabolos.

Hollow Ground

Interesting. It’s not an address you recognize, but it’s also not commercial. It’s residential. And your HUD in your helmet tells you it’s a large villa overlooking the ocean. Further, she doesn't specify whether you are to wear your armor. You will, obviously, but it’s an odd omission. Purposeful? Likely. But why? Is it to draw you out and take you out? In street clothes you’re unknown. In armor, you’re a target. How the tables turn. You feel as though you’re the prey. No. That will not happen. When you’ve dealt with the Rangers, you’ll deal with this. You’ll have to figure it out quickly because tomorrow is Tuesday.

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t notice your arrival at the HQ until Rosie rouses you.

“Circle around back and let me out. Then find yourself a safe spot to wait until I call for you.” You know you sound more like a boss than a friend, but you know she would rather come with you.

“Boss— I don’t know if that’s—“

“Please, I don’t want you to get arrested or killed if they’re less than amenable to a partnership.” You know you’re not being entirely honest. The only person who could die tonight is you. And, still, that doesn’t really faze you.

“Okay, alright.” She acquiesces. She turns the vehicle and circles to an alley behind the building. Letting you out you check your surroundings and know no one is watching you. At least from outside the building. However, you know there are cameras on the corners of this building. Avoiding them until the last possible moment will be best.

You quickly shoot Julia a message.

“Here. Wearing armor. Going to come in hot.”

An immediate response.

“Wait. What? No. Come in as Arya.”

But you’ve already made your decision. You’re coming in as Heartbreak. You hope Julia’s reasoning for gathering them was subtle. But you doubt it. Maybe they expect Arya and your sudden arrival will make your reveal a little more believable. Of course, why wouldn’t they believe it? The only two who might be still in the dark are Argent… and Daniel. Daniel is going to be tricky. Ask for forgiveness rather than for permission. You only pray that— BEEP.

A notification on your HUD startles you. Not Julia this time, but she did leave you a string of concerned messages, mixed with expletives. This is an email, from Mortum. How on earth did she get your private email? Another problem for another day. Those keep stacking up. The email has an attachment, simply “Heartbreak.” You don’t imagine it’s titled after your villainous identity.

Taking a final deep breath, you aim your grappling hook, the Rat King helping check your surroundings for signs of trouble and cameras. It would be a poor plan if the Directive saw you breaking into the Rangers HQ. The hook launches. The building is far from the tallest in Los Diabolos but taller than the ones around it. Though it’s no more than a few floors. When you lost to Blaze, your hook went at least 5 floors. Lost. Hah. You never realized that was a loss till now. You let yourself go. Nearly worked, too.

The hook finds purchase, you hear the whirring of the suit, and you’re tugged at such a rapid speed you feel your stomach get left behind. Launching six feet over the lip of the roof, your cape flutters around you. Dramatic as always. You find the entrance to the floor below and jimmy the lock. Time to enter the hornet’s nest.

Scanning the area around you, you note several things all at once. One, you were too caught up in your thoughts - stupid. Two, no alarms go off, and no dampeners flick on. Three, there are far more than the four Rangers here tonight. In total, you count six. Two of them are the last people you expected to be in attendance.

You creep down the stairs, knowing from your time spent here that the meeting room is just below the roof - for quick access, you’re told. You overhear voices - talking about you, about Arya.

“Why did you call us here again, Ortega?” Argent is speaking. Her voice carried a lilt of impatience. But curiosity innundates it.

“Because Arya has vital information to tell us,” Julia responds, sounding too worried for someone who’s talking about a former associate.

Taking one last final breath, you redirect the attention of all six to the elevator on the opposite side of the room, furthest from the stairwell. It doesn’t make a sound, but when their attention is away from the table, you move. Dashing silently, you present yourself in front of the table and wait for the eyes to settle back on you.

Time to face the consequences of your actions.

#fallen hero #fhr #fallen hero retribution

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ayamari-no-goshi · 1 year

Text

Chasing Shadows (11)

AO3 -> first, last, next

Fandoms: Danny Phantom (DP) / DC universe

Summary: THIS IS A CROSSOVER. As Bruce Wayne begins to slowly recover from the loss of his son, two separate mysteries open up old wounds. Who is the unknown leaving clues hinting at a return to Gotham, and who is the phantom pretending to be his lost son? Is it just a coincidence they’re active in Gotham at the same time? Or are they connected?

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, and questionable mental health

Parings: none

Notes: originally uploaded to AO3. Cross-posted to tumblr

“That’s like the fifth time you’ve reviewed those flowers. If you haven’t found anything yet, I doubt you will.”

Bruce glanced up from his workstation to where Babs was looking at him from her current set up in the Cave. It still wasn’t to the same level as it was in the Clocktower, but it was still somehow more advanced than his. It was a testament to her skills.

The now mostly dried flowers and a still of the lotus design Jason used for his second clue were laid out in order in front of him. The newest additions were a calypso orchid, placed on Catherine Todd’s grave and a spring of wormwood placed on Shelia Haywood’s a few days prior. The orchid was an easy enough reference – it was named after the nymph Calypso who nursed Odysseus back to help after he washed up on her shore. She kept him there for seven years while the rest of the word believed the hero had died. It was an unsettling parallel to Jason’s time with Talia. Bruce suspected it was also chosen due to it being used to represent love for the deceased in funerary bouquets and rebirth in some cultures.

The wormwood was a more puzzling choice at first. In the language of flowers, it represented bitter sadness. There was some evidence it was used as an herbal remedy in the past which might be why it was chosen, but more recently, it was more associated with madness and murder. Was it Jason’s way of hinting at the Lazarus Pits again? Or was it his way of further suggesting his biological mother was directly involved in his death.

“It feels as if I’m missing something,” Bruce admitted as he picked up the orchid again. “Were these just ways for him to hint at his resurrection and return?”

“That’s a possibility,” Barbara admitted as she abandoned her equipment and wheeled over to him. “Jay always did have his own flair for the dramatic.”

“True.” Before his death, Jason talked about possibly joining his school’s theater club. He would have excelled in it. The happy memories of his son were quickly replaced by images of his broken body, a frequent occurrence. Whatever life Jason would have lived had been destroyed by the Joker.

That reminded him. He needed to check on the restoration of Jason’s mask footage. With the new information that came to light, he owed it to his son to see for himself what happened that day.

“I still haven’t been able to find any recent signs of him in Gotham,” Barbara continued, disregarding his sudden change in mood. She knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t tell her even if she questioned it, “but I think I might have found Danny. I’ll send the files to you to review, but it looks like Jason enrolled him in Gotham Heights under a false identity. His school file has his guardian listed as a ‘Jay Flannagan’.”

She sighed before continuing. “I miss the days when we weren’t trying to track someone with the same skills as us. There’s only a P.O. box associated with that name. Wherever Danny’s staying must be under a different identity. Or, it’s completely under the table. There are rumors some places in Crime Alley that will skip the necessary checks and paperwork if a person is willing to pay rent in cash.”

“Both are possible,” Bruce acknowledged. “If he was by himself, he’d probably chose the latter. However, he’s caring for Phantom, it seems more likely he’d choose the former.”

“I agree. I’ve been trying to hack into the nearby security feeds for Danny’s school, but he’s proving hard to catch. Jason taught him well. But I have noticed occasional glitches in certain feeds. Poorer cameras seem to have strange reactions to his powers, so it might be a sign he’s passing near them. I’ll let you know when I have more data, but we might have a larger problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“We got a warning from both Jason and Danny about the G.I.W., and it looks like they’re starting to pop up in Gotham. There have been a lot of sightings of government types in white suits around the remains of the Clocktower and where some of the better documented sights of Phantom occurred. Right now, it just appears they’re getting some type of reading and taking samples, but we’ll have to keep an eye on them. There are multiple reports that they’ll get civilians involved if they believe a ghost or other similar entity is nearby. They might push Danny into hiding.”

That was problematic. Right now, Phantom was their best chance at being able to find Jason and stop whatever he was planning. He had set up a meeting with Dick in a few days, but if this group was as dangerous as suggested, then there was a good chance they’d scare him off. Bruce couldn’t risk that happening. However, there was also a chance their presence would also force Jason back into the city earlier than he had planned as there was a high probability Phantom had the ability to contact him.

“We’ll have to keep an eye on them,” he agreed. “However, locating Phantom is the first priority.”

…

Tim didn’t want to be at the Manor at the moment. He couldn’t handle seeing Bruce’s grief reopened all over again, so he was dressed as Robin and pretending to be on patrol. Instead, he was sitting on one of the taller buildings of Gotham next to the gargoyle Jason loved to visit when he was still Robin.

Being who he was, Bruce made the decision to restore what he could of the audio and video of Jason’s death. He needed to verify for himself what his son went through even after getting the truth directly from his mouth. Since they couldn’t convince him not to watch it, he, Dick, Cass, Steph, and Babs all sat through it with him in an attempt to give him some sort of support.

He should have listened to Dick. He shouldn’t have watched. Saying it was horrible didn’t do it any justice.

“Jason, you need to disarm the bomb!”

“…I can’t…”

Those two phrases kept haunting him. Every time the words replayed in his mind, Tim was struck by the resignation in Jason’s voice. He knew. He knew he had no chance of escaping and accepted he would die. And the woman who led him to his death had the nerve to try to order him around instead of trying to help him. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. Jason had tried so hard to be a good hero. And his last act was to attempt to shield the woman who betrayed him.

Jason, his hero, his Robin, had been killed because he trusted his mother. He trusted the woman he hoped would love him. It just wasn’t fair.

“I was told I’d find you out here.”

The voice startled him so badly that he nearly fell from his vantage point. Turning, he found Jason, in his Red Hood gear. The slight tilt to his head suggested he was curious as to what Tim was doing. For a brief moment, Tim thought there would be a repeat of what happened in the graveyard, but Jason’s posture wasn’t threatening. He must have known what he was thinking as he took a seat as he reached for his helmet. There was the hiss of some sort of mechanism unlocking before he pulled it off and shook his head. Tim briefly wondered how hot it was under it.

“Why do you wear a domino mask under it?” he questioned as he took a hesitant seat on the other side of the gargoyle. If Jason was willing to talk, he was okay with that.

“Habit.” Jason’s answer was short, but there was no obvious hint of anger. “And dramatic flair.” If that was the case, maybe that’s why he had the white streak. In the dark, it almost looked like it was glowing.

“Oh…” What else was he supposed to say to that? So, he changed the subject. “Not that I don’t enjoy you being here,” Tim wanted to make sure he didn’t accidentally anger Jason. They weren’t sure of the extent of the Pits effects on him and how much of his actions were his own. “But why were you looking for me?”

“I can tell you’re afraid of me. You don’t have to hide it.” When Tim didn’t elect to respond to that, Jason continued, “Dove sent me after you.”

“Dove? You mean Phantom?”

Jason ignored the question. “So, you know how he can see ghosts?”

“Yeah…? Oh!... So, he knows?” Tim hadn’t expected that. With everything else going on, there were times he almost forgot. Almost, but not quite.

Jack Drake hadn’t been the best dad, but he really tried to step up in the last year. While it didn’t do much to erase the childhood of loneliness brought on by all the trips he and his wife took, he still tried to change. It meant a lot to him, but he’d been killed, just like his mom and stepmom.

“Guess your dad directly came to him or something like that. He apparently had some choice words about me hurting you. Not that I’m surprised about that.” He shrugged before raising an eyebrow at him. “A fake uncle? Really? I get wanting space, but seriously, that’s taking it to a different level.”

Tim could feel himself flush. “I don’t want to be adopted by Bruce,” he admitted. “I was never supposed to be a permanent part of your family, just a placeholder until he didn’t need me anymore. Right now, he’s my guardian, and with my dad’s passing…”

“…I’d be a hypocrite if I told you to stay at the Manor,” Jason eventually told him. Each word sounded as if he was carefully choosing them. “But don’t force yourself into exile either. As annoying as Dick can be, he’d love to have to bunk with him for a while.”

“That’s okay. I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You won’t be. Hell, you might be able to help him remember to actually eat something decent for a change. But, if that’s not good enough, stay with that team of yours. Even if you don’t want to talk about it, they’ll still be there so you don’t self destruct.”

Tim flinched at those words. The phantom words of a soft “… I can’t...” filled his ears again, and unwanted tears dripped down his face.

“Ah shit.” He could feel Jason move closer. There was no feeling of animosity, but a questioning hesitance as he moved his hand as he he was considering reaching out for a comforting touch. Pulling it back, he muttered, “Didn’t mean to upset you.”

Shaking his head, Tim tried to ignore how Jason’s features were slightly blurred. It was probably just his tears, but he almost looked like he wasn’t entirely there. Somewhat unnerved, he reached out to see if the older teen was solid. When his hand touched his arm, he couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Jason had stiffened at his touch but let it happen without pulling away.

“It’s not… B restored what he could of the footage of what happened…. What happened to you.”

“And he let you watch that?” The outrage in his voice wasn’t what Tim expected.

“Most of the video is too distorted, so it’s mostly just audio.” When that didn’t lighten Jason’s mood, he tried a different tactic. “Dick tried to convince me and the others not to, but I felt like I had to be there… not just for B, but for you too. After the first attempt to restore it didn’t work, he couldn’t bring himself to try again. So, without knowing about… about the betrayal, he put together the most likely series of events. After that, you became a warning to other heroes of what could happen if they got too sure of themselves. It never sat right with me.” He sighed and hugged his knees. “To me, you were just as much as a hero as Nightwing and Batman. I felt like I owed you that.”

Jason didn’t say anything for a few moments. “You… don’t owe me anything. Months ago, I would have thought otherwise, but not now.”

A wary sort of hope surged through Tim. Jason didn’t completely hate him, which was good, but there was still some sort of barrier. “But you’re not happy I’m Robin.”

“No. It’s…” The older teen shifted as he ran his hands over his face. The weird haze over his features hadn’t gone away. He hadn’t noticed it during dinner the other day. Was it something that came and went? “It’s more I’m angry he let another child in those colors. There shouldn’t have been anymore Robins. There shouldn’t have been any more child soldiers. As much as he claims he cares, we’re never the priority in the field. He’ll always, always choose the mission over anything else.”

“What about you and Phantom?” He figured it was better to deflect instead of arguing.

Jason’s mood seemed to darken as a muscle moved in his jaw. “I don’t want him out there,” he hissed before his tone became more resigned. “Unfortunately, his anchor, what keeps him tethered to both life and undeath, is his drive to help others.”

“Oh!” That was a very revealing statement. His eyes widened slightly. “So that’s at least part of the reason he’s helping you plant your clues and keep tabs on us. It’s a safer alternative.”

“Got it in one.”

“Do… do you have something similar? Constantine told B you’re a Liminal too.”

Instead of immediately replying, Jason took out a cigarette. Surprisingly, he didn’t light it but still placed it to his lips. “Didn’t know there was a proper name for ‘fucked up zombie’.” He fell silent again before quietly stating, “I hope there isn’t.”

Tim pretended he didn’t hear it. Instead, he decided to focus on the older teen’s self-depreciating tone. Was it related to his coming back to life? Had he not wanted to? Phantom was worried he wasn’t planning on living through whatever he was planning which gave some credence to that idea. It… it was troubling.

Before Tim could finish sorting out his thoughts, Jason stood and stretched. “Make sure you let yourself grieve. Trying to push it in a box only works for so long before it affects everything else. Being around others helps.”

It almost sounded like he was speaking from experience. Tim couldn’t dwell on it more as he realized Jason was moving towards the ledge. “Wait, are you leaving?”

He could tell Jason rolled his eyes, even with the domino mask, as he tucked his helmet under his arm. “No, I’m going to stay and chat until sunrise. Of course I’m leaving. Have things to do, buildings to destroy, and I’m on a tight schedule.”

“But!” He couldn’t let him slip away again. “Everyone wants you to come home. You haven’t even seen Ba… I mean Oracle and Agent A yet. And… and we’re working on finding ways to reduce the turnover in Blackgate and Arkham that isn’t just focused on dealing with the breakouts. I mean, we’re doing that too, but…”

“When I come back from my trip, I’ll see what’s changed,” the old teen gave him a searching look that was replaced with a dangerous smirk. “Impress me enough, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll tone down what I’m planning.”

That… that wasn’t a confirmation that he’s stop killing or even come home, but it was something. For now, Tim would count it as a win.

“Before I leave,” Jason continued, “brooding isn’t a good look for you.”

“Excuse me? Isn’t this the place you used to go all the time?”

“Yeah, but I made it look cool.” It took a moment to realize that Jason was joking with him. It was almost a surreal feeling. “But secondly, keep those G.I.W. goons away from Dove while I’m away. They will kill him if they get their hands on him, and it won’t be painless. If, and only if, you have to move him for his safety, take him to the Tower for safety. I’m serious when I say I don’t want him anywhere near the Cave.”

Tim wasn’t going to admit he was a little jealous of how much Jason seemed to care for Danny. “But I’m surprised you’re willing to risk leaving him alone. Unless… that’s what you’re doing! You’re going after the G.I.W.!”

Jason’s response was nothing more than a predatory grin. That wasn’t good.

“I… we can help. Please! Phantom told us they can hurt you too!” He had to do something. If Danny was to be believed, the organization was a lot more dangerous than they originally believed. Bruce, Alfred, and Dick couldn’t lose him again. He had to stop him from going.

He gave an amused huff. “Worried about little ol’ me? Don’t be. I know what I’m doing.” Before Tim could even get another word in, he leapt off the roof.

When he didn’t hear the tell-tale sound of the grapple, he rushed over to make sure he was okay. But there was no sign of Jason, even with thermal vision. He had just vanished into the night. Great, now he had to be the one to explain his formerly dead son was about to go do something most would consider suicidal.

…

With how empty and broken Bruce currently felt after finally learning what happened to his son, he was surprised at how fear was currently clawing its way through his entire being. Tim’s report about how Jason was planning to go after a powerful government organization terrified him. Not only was there the concern over what exactly Jason might do during his crusade, he now had to worry what would happen if the G.I.W. somehow got their hands on his son. He lost Jason once, and he couldn’t lose him again.

The current trouble was determining where and how he would strike. There were a few G.I.W. bases scattered around the country. Logically, it would make the most sense for Jason to go after the main base, but depending on what he knew of their organization, he could choose to strike at a different location which held more importance. More information was needed, so he had recruited Babs to help him hack into their systems.

On the surface, it appeared to be an organization mostly designed to study ghosts and other similar entities, but he knew there was more to it. However, whenever Babs attempted to get information better protected, the G.I.W. databases went into lock down. It baffled everyone as there hadn’t been any evidence of such security when she started. To make matters worse, whatever security the G.I.W. had seemed to be able to locate the general geographic area where the attempted hack originated as more of their agents were detected on the streets of Gotham within a few hours.

It was a nightmare. Not only did it put Phantom at greater risk, but there was also a chance this would push Jason to act ahead of schedule and recklessly escalate. So far, he’d proved his actions were rather meticulously planned. It had only been when Phantom or Stephanie were in danger that he moved unexpectedly. And with how protective he was regarding the boy, there was no telling exactly what he would or wouldn’t do. Until he or any of the others could get in touch with Phantom or Jason, they would have to increase patrols in the city. He was also going to have to call in the big guns.

…

Dick sighed as he toured the G.I.W. compound closest to Gotham with Superman. The workers seemed nice enough, but it was clear from their tense stances and hesitant looks towards the field agents in the white suits that their impromptu visit wasn’t welcome. Without knowing exactly what Jason would do to expose the organization, especially with them increasing their presence in Gotham, Bruce decided to request members of the League make impromptu visits to the G.I.W. bases at approximately the same time under the guise of a potential threat. He hoped it would get them better access to the restricted information as well as deter a more violent response from Jason.

Currently, they were waiting in a meeting room for their guide to get permission to take them to some of the lower levels with completely not suspicious guards outside the door. Somehow, there wasn’t any piece of technology in the room that Dick could use to plant a bug to either listen in or attempt to hack into the system more securely without taking the time to hack the security camera.

Unlike him, Clark was bound by technology. “There’s lead in the floor. There isn’t as much in the walls on this floor, but it’s still enough to make it hard to clearly see anything,” he mouthed as they waited. That wasn’t a normal architectural design. Clearly someone didn’t want anyone with x-ray vision seeing the lower floors. “But something’s not right.”

“What do you hear?” Dick whispered as he turned away from the camera. While Dick could read lips, Clark couldn’t, but that didn’t mean much when the man had super-hearing.

“Screams. Laughter. Pleading. Fear. It’s strange. That fear is on an infra-sound frequency. Hmm?” Before Dick could ask what was wrong, Clark had suddenly turned and stared at a wall. After a moment, his concerned expression turned into one of bafflement. “Nightwing… your br…”

“You mean Red Hood?” Dick quickly interrupted, somewhat worried what that meant. Was Jason in the building?

“Yes, Red Hood… well, he just shushed me.”

“He’s here?” After a moment of processing what he was just told, he added, “Wait, what do you mean he just shushed you?”

Clark gestured vaguely towards the wall. “He’s currently in the outer wall. I’m… not sure if he’s checking for something or planting something. But he somehow noticed I saw him, and he just put a finger to his lips before moving. He’s currently heading south.”

“Great. O, I’m going to need whatever schematics you can get me,” Dick muttered into his comm before looking directly at the camera. “Look, we have a situation,” he shouted. “We need to get into one of the walls.” When there wasn’t an immediate answer, he looked over at Clark and smiled. “You heard me warn them.”

“I did.” It wasn’t too often Dick got to see the man of steel’s mischievous side on a mission, but he really must want to get further inside. “I’ll try to give you as much support as I can.”

“N, wait! Someone’s hacking the comm!” Babs alerted as static filled it.

“What? Do you know who it is?”

“No! It’s…”

“Don’t bother coming after me, Dickie-bird. You have a more important role to play.” His brother’s voice came over the comm.

“And just what would that be?” Clark demanded.

There was a sense of surprise on the other end. When Jason was still Robin, it was rare for anyone in the Justice League to have access to their private comm lines. “It’s been a while, Big Blue,” he eventually greeted. “I only need you to be a witness to what these monsters are doing.”

“What are you planning?” Panicked, he looked over at Clark. “Where is he?”

“I can’t see him anymore. It sounds like he’s moved to the lower levels. How’d he get there so quickly?”

Jason chuckled. “Picked up some new tricks. Supes, let me ask you a question. If you were aware of an organization that would want to dissect aliens to figure out what makes them tick, kill them, or even use them as mindless weapons, what would you do?”

“Everything I could to stop them, legally.”

“See, I’d like to do it that way, but if you forgot, I’m dead.” Jason’s words were playful. “I don’t have a way to stop them legally. Besides, according to them, I’m not even sentient.”

“Hood, what are you planning to do?” Dick demanded as he rushed out of the room, much to the dismay of the agents who were guarding the door. He could feel the sensation of Superman leaving at high speeds behind him.

“It’s already in motion.”

“HOOD!!!” The floor shook as multiple booms, the breaking of glass, groaning metal, and the whooshing of air overwhelmed him. The dusty smell of concrete filled the area. As he recovered his bearings, he immediately checked for signs of damage as both Babs and Clark asked if he was okay. “Yeah… just disoriented. No evidence of injuries on me or the guards who were trying to stop me. No immediate signs of structural damage where I am.”

“The entire south wall collapsed. It doesn’t appear any of the employees were near it.” Clark stated over the comm. “Maybe it was planned that way. You might want to put on your re-breather. There’s lead dust everywhere. …But I can still hear crying coming from underneath the building. I’m going to investigate.”

“Understood. I’m going to help with the evacuation.” Ignoring the guards, who were trying to keep him from going further into the area, Dick pressed forward after radioing for assistance and returned to the central office he’d been allowed to tour earlier. There was a huge hole in the south wall, just like Superman said, but it appeared most of collapsed down instead of either outward or inward. Jason knew what he was doing when he destroyed it as there wasn’t too much debris in the main part of the room.

As he assisted the people in the room, all of which appeared to have thankfully minor injuries, he got an update from Clark. The Man of Steel seemed unsettled as he requested his assistance on one of the lower floors. Since he couldn’t access it from the stairs, he moved to the now open wall and carefully made his way down. He stopped when he caught sight of Clark floating in place. Anger radiated off the man.

“Supes, what’s…?” Dick’s words died on his lips as he got a better view of the room. His stomach churned as he caught sight of what could only be described as the husks of once living people were strewn around the room. The acidic smell of something similar to ozone lingered along with the smell of dust and smoke. Old and new blood along with other unknown yet faintly glowing substances were splashed around the room. Faint whimpering could be heard from further in.

Whatever Jason and Danny had said about this place didn’t do the horror justice. Maybe they didn’t know the extent, or maybe they did. No matter what the truth was, Jason knew this needed to be exposed, and now that Dick had seen it for his own eyes, he was going to make sure it was shut down. Permanently.

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

Notes:

I chose Flanagan as a fake last name for Jason for its meaning.

Flanagan - From Irish Ó Flannagáin meaning "descendant of Flannagán". Flannagán is a given name meaning "blood red"

Plant notes :)

Stop 11 Ogygia - the island of Calypso. Calypso was a nymph who was kept away from the world as a punishment. She helped nurse Odysseus back to health. Calypso orchids are rare orchids named as such because of how they're hidden until they bloom. Orchids have a super creepy creation myth in ancient Greece – the demigod Orchis attempted to attack a priestess during a Dionysian celebration… and was torn apart by wild beasts. And in ancient Rome, they were a symbol of rebirth. And in modern funerary bouquets, they represent ever lasting love for the deceased.

I also included wormwood to hint at the Lazarus Pit as it is what healed Jason. As a flower, it represents absence and bitter sorrow which matches how Odysseus felt during his seven years on Ogygia.

This plant was used for millennium as an herbal remedy. Some of you might know it’s a main ingredient in absinthe aka the Green Fairy, which if you’ve never had it, tastes like black licorice. The thujone, a chemical in the plant, needs to be removed to be sold in several countries. While not well studied, it’s believed thujone has toxic properties and has been known to cause seizures, kidney failure, vomiting, and other effects. There are concerns the chemical has psychoactive properties and can cause hallucinations – this is a bit unclear as the few studies around that aren’t great. But in 1905, there were murders that occurred, and the man who committed was said to have “absinthe madness,” as he had been drunk at the time (though absinthe was just one of several alcohols he consumed). This high-profile case helped push the belief the drink caused madness and resulted in it being banned.

I have a small bottle of it from Slovakia sitting in my kitchen. It actually has a sprig of wormwood in it.

#Chasing Shadows #dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #fanfic #odyssey au #danny phantom crossover

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thesinnedsystem · 9 months

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the gang as rottmnt characters

frank reynolds - splinter

splinter was said to have been inspired by danny devito as frank but with a positive character arc (and is generally a better father to his children)

mac mcdonald - raph

they're both the muscle of the group, and like raph, mac has a soft side (he'd never admit it though). also they're initially the de-facto leader of the group (mac in the very early seasons; raph for most of the series)

charlie kelly - mikey

mikey is kind of the wild card of the group in the way that they're capable of doing insane things (like biting of a man's neck in charlie's case and lifting up an entire building in mikey's case). they just have very similar energy

dennis reynolds - donnie and leo (aka the disaster twins)

i associate dennis with the disaster twins because they both have that dramatic flair and that sense of cockiness. i see some donnie in dennis in the way that they're both the younger twin (well the disaster twins aren't actually twins but whatever), they're both very unhinged and get misinterpreted as having no feelings when in fact they do, they just express it differently!! also the line delivery, both have incredibly iconic lines fr.

meanwhile for leo, they both take the lead in a lot of plans and leo is considered "the face man" because of his charismatic conversational skills (most of the time). also there's how leo's into glam rock, which we know dennis is into. they're also my favorite characters but that's not important

bonus image comparison:

dee reynolds - april, leo, and donnie

dee is like april in the sense that they're both the girls in the group and yet fit in seamlessly (april is more respected though). i put in leo because there was a time when leo actually grew long blonde hair, also they're both the older twin. i also put in donnie because she also has that similar unhingedness and they have felt overlooked. not to forget, there's the theatre kid vibes that donnie exudes.

why did i assign the disaster twins to both dennis and dee? well, they're incredibly similar despite being different overall idk what else to say

and that concludes this post! feel free to add on with your opinions ^^

#iasip #it's always sunny in philadelphia #frank reynolds #mac mcdonald #charlie kelly #dennis reynolds #dee reynolds #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #.txt #they're both my fav shows ever so making this post was so fun :D

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shilohgreen · 7 months

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the invitation comes in a red envelope, with a wax seal holding the card inside. the back of the stationary contains more detail - masks are required, and dinner starts promptly 7:00 pm. i look forward to seeing you there. is written at the very end in clean script. ( feel free to respond ic or ooc, and feel free to share what your muse would wear! ) - or will and / or danny.

invitation accepted::

WILL accepts in person, and DANNY by call.

WILL G.RAHAM is dressed in all black, but he does not use this as an excuse to relax attention to detail. his mask is a comfortable, practical choice, without sacrificing intrigue. his fabrics are primarily soft and matte to avoid standing out, but anyone curious enough to properly look at him will spot the intricate details on his vest and tie, silky and high quality. although the event itself may be a chore, he refuses to half-ass his attendance.

DANNY J.OHNSON doesn't shy so far from attention. his flair for dramatics has an opportunity to shine, despite his considerably restricted budget, by comparison. his mask is a cheeky skull, gold and blue accents pulling it from resembling his g.hostface mask too much. he's embraced ruffles and jewelry, paired with tasteful faux leather pants and boots. although refinement comes less naturally to danny, he's certainly in the festive spirit.

#( consumare ) hannibal and danny.#( consumare ) hannibal and will.#consumare #i dont want to talk about how long i spent scrolling thru masquerade attire #thank you for this asndjkasd it was so fun

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tpher · 7 months

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danny lore update. just me rambling and thinking out loud

hes so very angry at everything. irrationally so. its meant to be a joke just how mad and exaggerated he gets. that being said hes not meant to be cool or likable*

(*he has a cool design and plays guitar/sings/is in a band, and those are some objectively cool traits i suppose.. but hes not meant to be seen as a badass, more like an exhausting person to be around lmao)

and i dont wanna justify his behavior bc im trying to make a character who sucks, but not knowing his backstory makes him confusing to really comprehend why hes like this. ive decided that his parents worked a lot when he was a kid, so he was practically raised by his grandparents. so if anyone, he cares abt them deeply but theyre also a huge reason why he ended up being this way, because theyre very blunt and opinionated people. it rubbed off on him. that being said, his parents arent like this so they dont understand where he learned that from. so this caused some conflict but whatever. he doesnt want his parents' validation anyway.

on a similar note, if he got picked on at school, he would be quick to assume the worse and need to defend himself, leading to getting into a lot of fights. he was later on essentially a bully himself

so whats the takeaway here?? the ppl he cares abt teaching him to speak his mind and not hold back. even if it leads to more conflict, hes very prideful. he sees it as "brutal honesty" when its just rudeness

when interacting w others, he will groan and roll his eyes a lot. definitely lots of sarcasm but just as much blunt yelling. he will roast ppl in the drop of a hat.

is it purely a pride thing? ehh. he DOES think highly of himself and has high standards. he also doesnt hate ppl as a whole, is interested in dating, is extroverted. thats all important to note bc itd be easy to assume otherwise.

another way his heightened emotion stemmed from was him being trans from a young age. the stress and confusion hit him like a truck, making him prone to lash out. once he came to terms w that and started going on hormones, the anger from gender stress turned into anger from increased levels of testosterone ON TOP of him already being a ball of rage. help this man

does he have anything going on besides anger? no

ok yes. as mentioned, he loves music. rock music to be exact, so thats a healthy way for him to let go of his emotions. he also has a dramatic flair, wanting to give everything his all. he doesnt like being boring/bored so if he has so start something in order to be entertained, he will. this would make him a bit of a prankster

what abt when someone treats him the way he treats others? oh he would NOT be able to take it. he will kick and scream until you feel worse. he will bite his hand until he thinks abt how to get back at you

...unless you strike a specific nerve. where instead of purely fighting, you get into a mutual understanding where arguing can be fun in a "healthy competition" kinda way. cant explain it rn bc my brain is mush and ive written too much but thats what he has w topher <3

#txt #oc posting

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moorheadthanyoucanhandle · 2 years

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WHEN YOU’RE STRANGE

Opening this weekend:

Dr. Strange in the Multiverse of Madness--On the one hand, I'm a little over the Marvel "Multiverse." On the other hand, this newest adventure of Marvel's mystical mage is a lot of fun.

For those who may be unacquainted with this conceit in the "Marvel Cinematic Universe," I'll summarize as best I understand it: The Multiverse is the premise that our reality exists alongside countless concurrent realities in other dimensions, complete with other versions of ourselves and the people we know, including our favorite superheroes, and that many of these alternate realities are similar, but none are quite identical. When we dream, according to this movie, we're really experiencing a taste of the lives of other versions of ourselves.

The Multiverse has already played a major role in two previous entries, 2018's dazzling animated flick Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, where it was wittily used to explore racial, gender and other variations on comic book themes, and last year's Spider-Man: No Way Home, where it was used as an amusing excuse to mingle the actors and situations from various "reboots" of the franchise. In both cases, it was also a spoof (and a servicing) of the familiar, OCD nerd need to make every "canonical" version of a pop culture franchise at least technically consistent with every other version (Star Wars and Star Trek fans sometimes demand this too).

Enjoyable as both of those earlier movies were, I'm afraid that the Multiverse has the effect, for me, of diluting the dramatic stakes. Death has always been negotiable in superhero stories, of course, but in Multiverse-heavy yarns, major characters--iconic characters--are killed off, or lose their heroic status, and it doesn't feel like it matters that much, because there's an apparently endless and easily accessible supply of replacements from other Universes.

Thus I don't know how sustainable the Multiverse gimmick is for me; even though I greatly enjoyed the original 2016 version of Dr. Strange, I went to this sequel a little grumpily. It turned out to be a non-stop, vigorously imaginative blast.

This time the surgeon-turned-sorcerer Stephen Strange (Benedict Cumberbatch) is called away from the wistful experience of attending the wedding of his ex (Rachel McAdams) to come to the defense of America Chavez (Xochitl Gomez), a teenage girl who has innate magical powers she can't control. She's pursued by Scarlet Witch (Elizabeth Olsen), who for some reason needs the kid to obtain a book that will allow her to steal the life, including two little boys, of a suburban-mom version of herself in another Universe (all of this is related, I understand, to a Marvel TV show called WandaVision that I haven't seen). Strange and his allies attempt to prevent this; tentacled Lovecraftian abominations interfere with his efforts.

Or something like that. Big-name Marvel characters from other franchises turn up, sometimes in new versions, sometimes in versions we've seen. Epic surreal action scenes leap giddily from Universe to Universe. And if you sense more than a nod or two to the Evil Dead flicks, it probably won't surprise you that the director is Sam Raimi, back after a hiatus from directing features. His wild headlong style is as exhilarating as ever, as is his flair for macabre slapstick, and both are splendidly abetted by a driving score from Danny Elfman.

Cumberbatch plays Strange with his usual old-school movie star suavity and aplomb, and Gomez is charming as America. The standout in the cast, however, is Olsen, who keeps her voice down and makes Scarlet Witch intimidating, but also poised and glamorous, with a strong undercurrent of the sorrowful.

#dr strange and the multiverse of madness #benedict cumberbatch #rachel mcadams #elizabeth olsen #sam raimi #marvel comics #danny elfman

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dannyavilasandieg · 8 months

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Unveiling San Diego's Photographic Treasures with Danny Avila: The Most Popular Photo Spots

In the realm of visual storytelling, where the art of photography transforms moments into eternal narratives, emerges a name that has redefined photography in San Diego - San Diego Photographer Danny Avila. With an artistic vision and an eye for capturing the extraordinary in the ordinary, Danny Avila navigates the city's most popular spots, crafting visual tales that resonate with depth and authenticity.

A Maestro Behind the Lens: Danny Avila's Photographic Expertise

Beyond being a San Diego Photographer, Danny Avila is a maestro who orchestrates emotions through his lens. Each click becomes a note in a symphony of memories, capturing the essence of places and people in their truest form.

La Jolla Cove: Where Beauty Meets the Sea

The allure of La Jolla Cove is unrivaled, and Danny Avila lens captures its essence with finesse. As a San Diego Photographer, he immortalizes the rugged coastline, the sparkling waters, and the playful seals, painting a canvas of nature's splendor.

Gaslamp Quarter: Urban Vibrancy and Historic Charm

Danny Avila's lens navigates the historic streets of Gaslamp Quarter, embracing its urban vibrancy and nostalgic charm. As a San Diego Photographer, he captures the intricate architecture, the lively streets, and the essence of a district that's both past and present.

Balboa Park: A Cultural Oasis of Visual Delights

Balboa Park isn't just a park; it's a canvas of culture waiting to be framed by Danny Avila lens. With an artist's eye, he captures the architectural marvels, the lush gardens, and the vibrant energy that define this cultural oasis.

San Diego Harbor: Where Maritime Romance Blooms

The San Diego Harbor is more than a waterway; it's a love story between the city and the sea. Danny Avila's lens captures the sailboats against the setting sun, weaving a visual narrative of maritime romance as a San Diego Photographer.

Torrey Pines State Natural Reserve: Nature's Grandeur Unveiled

Nature's grandeur takes center stage at Torrey Pines State Natural Reserve, and Danny Avila lens unveils its magic. As a San Diego Photographer, he captures the towering cliffs, the windswept trees, and the breathtaking vistas that redefine the outdoors.

Old Town San Diego: Nostalgia Through the Lens

Stepping into Old Town San Diego is like stepping into the past, and Danny Avila's lens captures its timeless essence. As a San Diego Photographer, he embraces the adobe structures, the historical attire, and the streets that echo with nostalgia.

Sunset Cliffs Natural Park: Where Dramatic Beauty Reigns

Sunset Cliffs Natural Park is a haven of dramatic beauty that resonates with Danny Avila's artistic vision. With masterful compositions, he captures the rugged cliffs, the crashing waves, and the mesmerizing sunsets that grace this coastal haven.

Cabrillo National Monument: Where History Meets the Horizon

Cabrillo National Monument offers more than panoramic views; it offers a perspective of history and horizon. Danny Avila lens captures the urban skyline against the vast Pacific, creating a visual symphony that spans time and space.

Little Italy: A Slice of Europe in San Diego

Danny Avila's lens ventures into the charming streets of Little Italy, where European flair meets modern urban living. As a San Diego Photographer, he captures the street art, the bustling cafes, and the vibrant community that make this neighborhood unique.

San Diego Skyline: Urban Drama Unveiled

As the sun sets, the San Diego skyline emerges as a theatrical backdrop for Danny Avila lens. With an artist's touch, he captures the city's silhouette against the twilight sky, infusing urban architecture with a touch of magic.

Seaport Village: Memories by the Water's Edge

Seaport Village is a treasure trove of memories waiting to be discovered through Danny Avila lens. With impeccable timing, he frames the waterfront promenade, the joyful shops, and the bustling atmosphere that define this picturesque spot.

San Diego Botanic Garden: A Haven of Colors and Textures

San Diego Botanic Garden is a haven of colors and textures, and Danny Avila's lens explores its wonders. Each bloom, each leaf, and each pathway becomes a canvas for his creative expression as a San Diego Photographer.

Pacific Beach: Where Surf Culture Thrives

In the heart of surf culture, Pacific Beach becomes a playground for Danny Avila's lens. The crashing waves, the sun-drenched sands, and the carefree atmosphere form the backdrop for visual stories that celebrate coastal living.

Children's Pool Beach: Capturing Innocence and Joy

Children's Pool Beach isn't just a beach; it's a canvas of innocence and joy waiting to be captured by Danny Avila lens. Families, children, and the boundless ocean merge into moments of laughter and wonder.

Danny Avila: A Lens of San Diego's Essence

Through the lens of San Diego Photographer Danny Avila, the city's essence unfolds in a tapestry of moments. Each photograph becomes a piece of visual storytelling, a testament to the beauty and vibrancy of San Diego's most popular spots. Whether it's the sun-kissed shores, the urban skylines, or the hidden corners, Danny Avila photography captures the heart and soul of this captivating city.

#san diego photographer

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meant-to-be-a-hero · 1 year

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Season Three, Episode Nineteen: Letharia Vulpina

"Have you worked with wolves before?" He asks the werewolf emissary. Oh boy, we're starting daft today.

Yep, that's the same set as two episodes ago, and the one they'll use again at the end of the season.

And that's why you don't mess with Deaton.

Did they like, milk Jackson before he went to London? They seem to have more kanima venom than they know what to do with.

Okay, they resolved the cliffhanger with a little more flair than the previous episode suggested they were going to.

Mmm, Kentucky Fried Isaac.

ALPHA ROAR. We love to see it.

Oh shit, the bear traps! I remember now!

For a guy who owns lots of guns, Argent's apartment gets broken into surprisingly often. He needs better security.

Sure, tackle snog. As good a reason as any to jump on Danny.

This is the Nogitsune playing with everyone, isn't it? That's not Stiles at all.

Peter's such a dramatic bastard, I love it.

Derek and Chris are the definitive Odd Couple.

"I'm dedicating my life to helping narcissistic teenage girls." - Line of the episode right there.

Oh Jared, sweetie, nooooo.

Peter's memory is about the Desert Wolf, presumably?

I wanna tell Parrish to be careful, but we all know he'll be fine.

"You're not just an uncle." - They resolved that one quicker than I expected. Although I guess it's one question answered and another one posed so y'know.

Kitsune tails! Also confirming that it was Noshiko that summoned the Oni.

Bomb fake-out! Ruuuuuun!

So much for not risking your life to protect an Argent, eh Derek? He's definitely mellowed.

Oh it's all been a ploy to weaken Scott, hasn't it? He's been taking pain left and right, so the Nogitsune can hurt him.

Oh, they're really answering all these Peter questions today, I'm impressed. At least they followed through with that whole plotline about him having a kid, even if they had to pivot away from it being Jackson.

Unnecessary flippy shit beats demons with katanas today apparently.

Or not, never mind.

The Nogitsune is a bastard, yowch. This whole episode was very well orchestrated.

Ha! Deaton for the win!

#Teen Wolf #Lem's Teen Wolf Rewatch #Beware The Liveblogging Lem

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kinglazrus · 3 years

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Deep Wounds Ch. 1 - Who's to Blame?

Phic Phight | Next | AO3 | FFN

Submitted by @q-gorgeous: Identity reveal. Dash finds out Danny is Phantom. Could be swagger bishie or not, either or is okay.

Submitted by @aj-itated: Dash catches Danny changing after gym, and spots a huge (poorly stitched) wound on his side. Dash is now convinced Danny is either abused or part of a gang, and has no idea how to deal with either - or how to interact with Danny, now that he can't bully him.

Summary: Dash didn't mean to see it, not that it was his fault. If Danny didn't want anyone to notice the bloody mess on his side, then he shouldn't be checking his bandages in the middle of the boy's changing room. But it's too late, and Dash has no clue what to do now that he thinks Danny might be getting hurt at home.

Word count: 4253

“He’s gonna know.”

As Tucker's shadow falls over him, Danny starts, rudely yanked out of his daydream. The hand cradling his chin drops to his lap, fingers brushing the grass, and he fixes Tucker with a confused glare. "What?"

"You are super unsubtle," Tucker says. "He's gonna knooow."

Tucker and singsong aren’t two words Danny would normally use together, but it is the best way to describe the lyrical bounce in Tucker's voice as he drops onto the grass. Too bad his musical prowess seems limited to teasing jabs and not the screeching caterwaul Danny usually associates with Tucker and singing.

"What are you talking about?" Danny asks, his annoyance mounting.

"Oh, come on." Tucker leans back and sweeps his arm out to the field, motioning to the warm-up game some of their classmates are playing, which Danny had been watching fervently until he was interrupted. His gaze skims over the scuffle taking place over the ball, settles briefly on Dash lounging in front one of the nets, then goes back to Tucker.

"I don't know what you mean," Danny says.

"Tucker, be nice. Don't tease the oblivious," Sam cuts in. Sitting on Danny's left, she is flipping through a book rather than watches the scrimmage. How she got the book past Tetslaff, Danny has no idea. Magic, maybe. The more likely answer is that Tetsflaff saw it and just didn't care since Sam one of the best students in their class.

Danny could never get away with it, though. "Seriously. What are you guys talking about?"

"Oh, poor Danny." Tucker tsks and shakes his head. "In time, you, too, shall mature enough to understand your own emotions."

"I'm mature enough to ectoblast you in the face," Danny says.

"That is literally the exact opposite of mature."

"You're the exact opposite of mature."

"Game time!" Tetslaff's bellow cuts off what surely would have been a clever retort from Tucker. Her booming voice, powerful enough to challenge Danny's father's, echoes across the field and brings the scrimmage to a halt. At the far net, Dash rises to his feet and brushes the grass from his shorts.

"Captains!" Tetslaff calls. Valerie and Dash's hands shoot into the air, faster than anyone else's. Sam, still focused on her book, raises her hand half-heartedly, then lowers it to turn the page. No one else offers to be team captain, but Tetslaff doesn't seem to mind. This is how their classes usually go when they do team sports. "You know the drill. Pick your players, take your positions, and for heaven's sake, someone take Fenton."

Snickers break out through the class. Danny drops his face into his hands, muffling a groan against his palms.

He hates gym class for a lot of reasons. For one, sports aren't really his thing. He might be strong, thanks to his ghost half, but that doesn't make him any better at sports. Because of that, he's usually the last picked when it comes to games like soccer. And then there's Dash, who sucks sometimes, but he used to suck more. A lot more. He has mellowed out since freshman year, although he's not opposed to jostling Danny in the hallway now and then.

But the absolute worst thing about gym class is playing when he's injured; it doesn't happen often. Danny's been ghost fighting for nearly three years now, and he doesn't get hurt as much as he used to. Experience has wizened him up to the wonders of dodging. His enemies still get lucky sometimes, though, and last night, Technus got him good. Hacking and slashing isn't usually Technus' thing, but the rabid dishwasher the ghost sicked on Danny was damn good at it. He has the deep slash across his left side to show it.

It's healing well, but a wound like that needs more than a few hours before he is back in peak condition. Sam, whose house was closest after the fight, stitched Danny up as best as she could. Both she and Tucker had gotten good at that over the years, but for all Sam's skill, she was still just a high schooler who learned off YouTube tutorials. Before bed, Danny bound the wound tight, took a couple of Advil, and slept with an icepack slapped against his side.

It still hurts like hell, though.

A sharp whistle pierces Danny's thoughts. He winces at the noise, along with most of the class. Dash and Valerie, the victims of Tetslaff's ire, actually flinch.

"Baxter, Grey, stop bickering," Tetslaff says.

Caught up in his thoughts, Danny hadn't noticed their argument, but it's impossible to miss the tight anger in Valerie's crossed arms or the annoyance in Dash's glare.

"Baxter, Grey made her pick. Mr. Cheong goes with her." Tetslaff points at Kwan, then jerks her thumb toward Valerie. With a despondent sigh, Dash pats Kwan on the back, watching his best friend trudge to Valerie's team as if he was going to his grave.

"They're so dramatic," Danny says.

Tucker nods in agreement. "I know, right?"

Sam lowers her book to stare at them. "You cannot be serious."

"What did we say?" Danny asks.

Sam sighs and rolls her eyes but doesn't elaborate further.

Back on the field, Valerie gestures to the dwindling number of classmates yet to be claimed. "Your next pick," she says to Dash.

Dash scans the lineup, his gaze lingering on Danny for a few moments before skipping right over Tucker to Sam. "Manson, you're with me."

"Ugh, of course." Sam marks her page and passes the book to Danny. "You gonna be okay? How's your side?"

He holds back a grimace. "I'm good. I'll tell Tetslaff I'm sick or something so I can sit out."

Sam nods, satisfied, and joins Dash's team.

"Tucker!" Valerie calls.

"Good luck, dude." Tucker gently pats Danny's shoulder before stepping onto the field.

With his friends gone, and the rest of the class distracted by the team pick, Danny shuffles over to Tetslaff. "I don't really feel good. Can I sit out?"

Tetslaff looks him up and down. "You gonna throw up?"

"I don't know. Maybe?"

"You got a fever?" Before Danny can even answer, Tetslaff slaps her hand against his forehead. He flinches back, wanting nothing more than to peel her warm palm off his skin. She holds it there for a few seconds before finally drawing away. "No fever. got a doctor's note?"

"Uh... no? I've been at school all morning."

"If you feel like you're about to throw up, book it off the field. Otherwise, you're playing."

"But—"

"Fenton, do you really want to be the only kid in Casper High history to fail gym class?" Tetslaff asks.

The threat might have been more effective if Danny hadn't spent half his high school career one bad grade away from flunking out, but he doesn't have the energy to fight her on it. "Okay, Coach."

"That's the spirit! Now get out there and show me some hustle!" Tetslaff slaps Danny on the back. He bites back a cry of pain as he stumbles forward, one hand shooting to cradle his side. Tetslaff's hand, though broad, missed the actual injury, but the sheer impact made his bones rattle and his wound flair with pain.

"Okay," Danny mutters. Just stay out of Dash's way and move enough to escape Tetslaff ire. It can't be that hard. He presses a hand to his side, feeling the thick gauze through his shirt. Closing eyes so that no one sees them glow, he phases his palm through his shirt and ices over his injury. The numbing cold helps, somewhat, and it should hold up for the whole class.

"I can do this." He falters when he steps toward the field. It looks like Valerie and Dash finished picking their teams while he was busy with Tetslaff and the game is already underway. He hovers on the sideline, unsure where to go.

"Getting worked up already?" Valerie's voice startles him.

Danny flinches and twists toward her, sending a sharp twinge across his ribs. He hisses, regretting the sudden move, and squeezes his side once more.

"You okay?" Valerie asks.

"Just fine. Sorry, what did you say?"

"You look like you're stressed out already. It's just soccer."

Danny rolls his eyes and nudges her arm. "Sure. Tell me that when Dash's team is up by five and I have stop you from kicking his kneecaps in."

Valerie laughs, no denial falling from her lips. "Oh, please. We both know I'd go for the throat. You're with me, by the way."

"Oh, thank God."

"Don't kid yourself, Danny. We both know you'd love to be on Dash's team."

Danny's mind blanks for a moment, his cheeks growing hot against his will. "Uh... what? He literally used to beat me up every day."

"Keyword, 'used to.' And I never said you had good taste." Valerie shrugs. "Except for me, at least. But don't worry about it. Now come on; I want you on defence. You suck at scoring, but at least you can take a hit."

Danny hopes he doesn't need to.

—

No hits come his way, to Danny's immense relief. At least they are playing soccer and not football. Or floor hockey, God forbid. Danny's ankles still smart from the last time they played that. With soccer, there's not a whole lot of opportunity for Danny to get knocked around. Stuck on defence, he even has an excuse to hang back, hold off on all that "hustle" Tetslaff wanted to see. His teammates charge up and down the field, shouting and jeering as they fight over the ball, and Danny gets to trail behind, halfway between the throng and his team's net. He spends most of his time watching Dash. Purely so that he's ready if Dash decides to go after him, not for any other reasons.

"Suuure that's the reason," Tucker says when he notices Danny staring.

"It is!" Danny's protest falls on deaf ears.

Dash catches Danny's gaze more than once. Rather than looking away, Danny can't resist offering a shit-eating grin and a friendly wave every time. If he had any self-preservation skills, he would stop immediately. But there's a reason he's half-ghost now, and it's definitely not because of his critical thinking skills.

He manages to stay out of the action, for the most part, only rushing in when the ball comes close to him. Otherwise, Tucker and Elliot handle the rest. Tucker knowingly spares him the pain of ripping his stitches. Elliot, meanwhile, likes to swoop in at every opportunity to show Danny up. It might have gotten a rise out of Danny any other day, but right now, when his side throbs every time he takes a step, Elliot is welcome to do whatever he wants.

When they have class outside, Danny can't tell how much time is left. He guesses they are about halfway through, and nothing bad has happened yet. Maybe he can get through this, after all.

That's when he jinxes himself.

"Heads up!" Valerie's warning shout comes just in time. Danny ducks instinctively, hissing when his injury pulls. The soccer ball flies over his head, skimming the top of his hair. Then, Dash collides with Danny, his shoulder digging into Danny's side. He cries out as he goes sprawling, hands shooting to his side. It burns, searing across his ribs, almost as bad as when he first got the wound. The pain makes his head spin and his breath ragged.

He must blackout for a moment, because one second his face is pressed against the cool grass, and then suddenly he's staring up into Tetsalff's concerned face, Valerie, Sam, and Tucker hovering behind her.

"Deep breaths, Fenton," Tetslaff says.

It would be great advice if breathing didn't make his chest expand, and his chest expanding didn't make the gash on his side strain against the few stitches that hadn't popped when Dash rammed into him at full speed. What the hell. That was such a dick move.

"Okay, Fenton. You're out for the rest of the class. Go to the nurse if you need to," Tetslaff says.

He nods but makes no move to get up. He doesn't know if he can.

Tetslaff sees his plight, whether she understands the reason for it or not, and barks over her shoulder. "Baxter! Your fault, your problem. Help Fenton inside."

"We can take him," Tucker says. At the same time, Dash whines, "Come on, Coach. There's no way I hit him that hard."

Tetslaff sticks out an arm, holding Sam and Tucker back. "Get to it, Baxter."

Dash groans but relents and steps into Danny's field of view. Rather than kneeling, or doing anything actually helpful, he bends down a little and sticks out his hand.

Danny stares at it.

"Well? You're holding up the game, Fenton."

Danny almost gets up on his own, just to spite Dash, but the second he tries to lever himself up, his side screams, and Danny has to bite back another cry of pain. Reluctantly, he grabs Dash's hand. Dash hauls him upright, far from gentle, and sets Danny down on his feet. Dash starts forward, but Danny hangs back.

"Hurry up," Dash says.

"Just... hold on a second." Danny squeezes his eyes shuts and clamps his hands against his side. The pressure helps, a little. If he's bleeding, it'll at least hide the evidence. He really hopes he put enough gauze on the wound. He didn't exactly think he'd be dealing with this today when he wrapped it.

"Dude, we can take you," Tucker says. He and Sam haven't moved away. Even Valerie still hovers close by, giving Danny a concerned look over his friends' shoulders.

"Manson, you're team captain until Dash gets back. Foley." Tetslaff shakes her head. "Your grades aren't much better than Fenton's here. Let's go, back on the field. It's game time.

"But—"

"It's fine, guys." Danny tries to smile, but he is sure it comes out like a grimace instead. Neither of them look like they believe him.

"Ms. Tetslaff!" Valerie steps in front of the teacher. "Danny's on my team. I want to make sure he's okay. Kwan can take over as captain for me."

"Okay, fine. Now let's get back to the game, people!" Tetslaff puts a hand on Sam and Tucker's shoulder each and pushes them toward the field. Over her shoulder, Sam mouths "Thank you" at Valerie.

"Can we just hurry up?" Dash says. Before Danny is ready, Dash's hand clamps down his shoulder and starts driving him forward. Danny stumbles, nearly tripping over his own feet, and is forced to open his eyes or else go tumbling all over again. Valerie appears on his injured side, walking fast to keep up with Dash's pace.

"Are you okay?" she asks. She reaches toward Danny, but holds back, her gaze flitting down to the hand over his ribs.

"Yeah, totally fine. I, uh, got caught up in that ghost fight yesterday, got a little bruised," he says.

"You should have told Tetslaff. She would have let you sit out," Valerie says.

"Yeah, I should have." Too bad Danny hadn't thought of that lie before. And it wasn't even a lie, technically.

The walk to the gym doors feels much farther than it did at the start of class. Dash yanks the door open once they're close enough and deposits Danny on the nearest bench. "There, you're fine. Whatever."

"Don't be such a dick, Dash," Valerie says.

Danny wobbles, bracing himself against the wall as he sits down. While Valerie helps, grabbing his arm and keeping him steady, Dash doesn't make a move.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asks.

"Yeah. I'm just gonna sit for a bit."

"If you say so." With one last concerned glance, Valerie leaves the gym.

Danny sits, one hand pressed against his side, feeling the deep, pulsing ache that won't leave. The ice he applied earlier hasn't faded yet, but if Danny's stitches are ripped as he suspects, a little numbing cold won't help for much longer.

Dash clears his throat, reminding Danny that he hasn't left yet.

"What?" Danny glares at him through half-lidded eyes.

"Sorry, or whatever. I thought you were gonna move, okay?"

"You sure sound sorry."

Dash bristles. "Whatever, Fenton. I was trying to be nice, but I guess I'll just fuck off then."

"Yeah, you do that."

Dash stomps out of the gym without looking back, slamming the door behind him. The bang echoes through the empty room. Alone at last, a whimper slips through Danny's lips. You would think that, over the years, he would get used to getting injured so much, learn to adjust to the pain. Whoever first said that was such a liar. It never stops hurting. Dizzying pain is dizzying pain no matter how often you experience it.

Danny sits for a few minutes, breathing slow and even, bracing himself for what he knows is coming. Peeling his hand away from his side, he checks his shirt. Faint pink splotches greet his eyes, not a lot, but enough to make him groan. He reaches under his shirt, slipping his fingers underneath the bandages, and probes the tender skin. His fingers come away slick and red.

"Shit." He applies a fresh coat of ice, enough to seal over the wound, and pushes himself off the bet, slick hand sliding against the wood. The entrance to the boys' changeroom lies only a few feet away, but it feels farther. He shuffles inside, bracing one hand against the wall. The hall leading in stretches for a good ten feet before cutting into a sharp right angle and opening into the main room.

The silence inside is just as oppressive as the quiet of the gym. Even though it's the middle of the school day, being here without the chatter of other boys as they change feels odd.

Danny lets himself slump onto the bench, breathing heavily

"I'm gonna kill Dash," he says to the empty room. But knowing his luck, Dash would come back as a ghost and haunt the hell out of him. It seems like the kind of asshole thing he would do

Danny fumbles for his bag, hooking his finger around the strap and dragging it close. It takes him a minute of digging to find his phone, which he stuffed inside at the start of class. He quickly checks the time. There are ten minutes left of class. More than enough time to check his side and get patched up before Tetslaff dismisses everyone to get changed.

The smart thing would be to go into one of the showers, make sure he has complete privacy, but he doesn't want to put in the effort of walking that far.

"It'll be fine," Danny says and gets to work

—

Dash doesn't return to the game. As the gym door slams beside him, he leans against the wall and stares down at his shoes. Outside, he looks composed, but in his head, his thoughts tumble about. He can't shake the image of Valerie's glare. Fenton couldn't take a hit, so what? It's not like Dash actually didanything. He's gotten Fenton a lot worse than that before. It's not his fault the guy was already banged up from some dumb ghost fight. Not his problem.

And yet, the pained cry as Dash bowled Danny over, the sight of his crumpled body on the grass... it makes Dash shudder.

"I apologized," he says. There's no one around to hear it, to justify him. He wonders what his therapist will say about this, if Dash bothers mentioning it at their next appointment.

Valerie's glare flashes through his mind again.

"Okay, fine!" He throws his arms up and shoves away from the wall. One quick moment to check on Danny, then he'll return to the game. He's only doing this so that his therapist doesn't give him that look on Monday; the look that isn't quite disappointed, because she could never be disappointed in one of her clients, but comes pretty damn close.

Dash only receives that look when he does something dumb, like shoving nerds in lockers or taking his anger out on someone else.

Dash eases the door to the gym back open and peeks inside. The bench he left Danny on is empty. A smear of red stands out against the pale wood. Dash creeps inside, closing the door quietly behind him. His heart sinks as he nears the bench, and comes to the unmistakable conclusion: blood.

Not my fault, Dash reminds himself. It does little in the way of reassurance. Walking briskly, he heads for the doors leading further into the school. If Danny is bleeding, he must have gone to the nurse. Which means he will be fine, but Dash needs to be sure.

A low groan stops him in his tracks.

For a moment, he thinks he imagined it, but then it comes again, accompanied by a pained hiss. The sound comes from the changing room. Holding his breath, he turns from the door and enters the changeroom.

Short, sharp breaths greet him, growing louder as he nears the main room. A shaky whimper cuts through, followed by a gasp.

Dash peeks around the corner. He sees Danny's shirt first, discarded on the bench. Next to it is a pile of wrappings. It looks like the ace bandages Dash uses whenever he gets a sprain, although he doesn't remember seeing Danny wearing any. And then, he looks to Danny himself and pales.

One arm drawn back, head tilted forward to see his side, Danny peels a stained gauze pad away from his bloody ribs. Suddenly, Dash can't breathe. His throat feels clogged. His heart hammers in his ear. The gash in Danny's side is easily the length of Dash's hand. It rips across his ribs and curves up toward his armpit, ending just under his arm. Dash doesn't know much about first aid, but the stitches holding the wound together look sloppy. They pull in different directions, turning what appears to be a clean cut into a wobbly mess. Around it, Danny's skin is stained red. Blood seeps between the stitches.

A few small drops slide down Danny's exposed skin as Dash watches, pooling briefly against the waistband of his gym shorts before they are absorbed

"Fuck," Dash whispers.

Danny jumps back, spinning mid-air to face Dash. In his horror, Dash doesn't think to question the impossibility of that action. Danny drops the gauze pad, which lands bloody side down on the floor, and clamps his arm down over the injury.

"What are you doing?" Danny's voice hitches, caught between an accusing growl and a startled squeak.

Dash gapes, mouth opening and closing as he searches for something to say. His mind comes up blank. "Danny, what... what the hell? What happened to you?"

Dash's voice seems to snap Danny out of his shock. All at once, his body goes rigid and his expression turns cold. "Get out."

"You need to go to the nurse!"

"DASH!" Danny bellows.

Dash stumbles back, falling against the wall. Tetslaff's laugh voice is loud. Jack Fenton's voice booms. But just now, Dash felt the floor shake under his feet. Danny's voice rumbled in Dash's chest, knocked him off his feet. The whole school must have heard it, they had to.

"I won't say it again. Get the hell out right now," Danny says.

Dash obeys. Whether it's out of fear or a genuine desire to follow Danny's will, he can't tell. He books it out of the changeroom, across the gym, and bursts outside, only to come face to face with Kwan and the rest of the class.

"Whoa!" Kwan reels back in surprise. "You missed the rest of the game. Val's team won."

"Oh, the game. Right." Dash takes a deep breath, struggling to get himself under control.

"So... you gonna let us in?"

Dash doesn't move.

"Get out of the way, Dash," Valerie says. Pushing to the front of the group, she tries to shove past him.

Dash leaps in front of her. "No!" He can't let anyone else see Danny.

"Dude, not cool. We want to check on Danny," Tucker says.

Dash wavers. Danny's friends have to know what's up with him, right? There is no way he could have stitched that up himself, not with how much struggle it took to even look at the injury. When Tucker and Sam slip by Dash, he makes no move to stop them. Their entrance opens the floodway, and soon enough everyone is pushing past Dash into the gym.

"Wait!" He latches on to Kwan's arm as his best friend passes.

"Did something happen?" Kwan asks.

Dash swallows, unsure how to answer. "Sort of?" Now isn't the right time to tell Kwan, though, not with their classmates around them, and the rest of their friends absent.

"Let's go get changed." Kwan pats Dash's shoulder and guides him forward. Every step closer to the change room, Dash's anxiety mounts. Danny reacted so poorly to one person finding him. Dash can only imagine what will happen—what stricken look Danny will wear—when half their class walks in on his shirtless and bloody.

Except, when they turn the corner into the change room proper, Danny isn't there. His stuff is gone, too. Tucker's crumpled gym shirt covers the spot where the gauze pad landed. There are no signs Danny was there at all.

#phic phight #phic phight 2021 #phanfic #phicc #dp fanfiction #danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #danny fenton #dash baxter #swagger bishie #danny/dash #deepwounds

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chintadraws · 3 years

Text

Buried

Summary: Danny has spent his entire life in a secluded underground lab yearning to see the stars. Against his father's wishes, he accepts the aid of an unexpected guest to take him out to a world he has never seen. Tangled AU.

AO3 | FFN | Chapter 2

Co-written by @imekitty

Chapter 1: The Dead Prince

This is the story of a boy named Danny, and it starts with a portal.

Twenty years ago, Maddie, Jack, and Vlad created a proto-portal to another dimension, to a world of ghosts, hoping to further their supernatural research. But it all fell apart when the experiment failed and exploded in their faces, namely Vlad’s face.

Struck with a ghostly disease that turned him into a half-ghost, Vlad spent his years in recovery quietly researching and experimenting until he managed to create the perfect stabilizing serum to keep himself from liquifying.

During that time, Jack and Maddie married and settled into their roles as the strangest and most bizarre king and queen in the kingdom of Amity Park. They continued their ghostly research well after the incident with the proto-portal. They knew how it debilitated their friend, but they were pleased to know that Vlad had found a cure for himself when he graced them with his presence with news of his successes and rise to fortune.

And so Jack and Maddie continued on with their lives, happily unaware of Vlad’s secret ghostly identity, only happy to have known that he was well. And the happiness only persisted when Jack and Maddie had their first child, Jasmine, and were soon to be expecting another child.

But all of the joy was washed away when Maddie became deathly ill with a ghost-related disease.

On the brink of life and death, Jack tried everything he could think of to save his wife. With the two of them being the only leading experts in ghost-related research, there was no one else to turn to.

No one except Vlad Masters, who had concocted a serum to battle the ghostly disease that nearly took his own life.

Jack rushed to Vlad’s mansion as fast as he could and didn’t even bother knocking as he practically charged through the door and headed straight for Vlad's lab. The lab was a far better sight than the one Jack and Maddie had. No clutter and messes or spilled experiments, only perfectly organized and labelled samples and beakers, which made it all the easier to find the compartment where Vlad kept his stabilizing serum.

Vlad still hadn’t made an appearance, but Jack simply couldn’t wait to ask him for the cure. He was certain Vlad would understand; they were the best of friends, after all. And he surely wouldn’t say no to helping Maddie. Jack remembered clearly how Vlad always spoke so highly of her.

After not much contemplation, Jack grabbed the serum and returned to Amity Park. He immediately gave Maddie the stabilizing serum, leaving not a single drop to spare.

The cure healed the queen, and with her recovery came the birth of a healthy baby boy, a prince they named Danny. All of Amity Park celebrated the queen’s recovery as well as the young prince’s birth.

Everyone except Vlad.

Months without the serum had left him far weaker than he cared to admit. He had taken to creating replicas of the serum, which barely kept him from dying, but without the one component that could never be recreated, it was no use.

He had no intention to attend the festivities despite being an honoured guest. He did, however, want to have some fun exacting his revenge considering he would not survive much longer. And it was the least Jack owed him for stealing his only source of life.

One night, Vlad snuck into the castle to kill Jack Fenton for ruining his life. It was a fair exchange. An eye for an eye.

Clinging to his invisibility powers, he entered Jack and Maddie's room and watched them sleeping in their bed. Vlad’s eyes fell on Maddie’s face. She was as beautiful as he remembered. Despite the enormous blight lying beside her tainting the view, Vlad couldn’t help indulging in the sight. This could have been his life if Jack hadn’t been so careless.

Vlad held back a snarl as he approached Jack’s side. He stopped when he heard a soft hiccuping and saw a wisp of fog emanating from the crib in the room. Curious, Vlad floated to the crib. There, he found the young prince bundled in blankets, the baby that was one of the reasons Jack had stolen the serum from him.

What a waste.

Vlad scowled at the child. While young Jasmine took after her brilliant mother, this boy was certainly going to take after his idiot father. He certainly had the hair and eyes to match.

Danny hiccuped again. Vlad's scowl turned into shock when he noticed a breath of fog escape from his lips. He thought he briefly saw Danny's eyes flash green, but he must have been hallucinating.

Gingerly, he held out a hand toward Danny's and reeled back when he was met with a static shock of ectoplasmic energy, making him lose concentration on his invisibility. Vlad hissed and shook his hand, cursing at how weak he had become. He was left speechless again when he saw that Danny now had snow white hair and glowing green eyes.

And he was glowing with a healthy ghostly aura.

Something was obviously different about the boy. Vlad was certain he might be the key to finding his cure again. Maddie had shown no signs of ill effect after she was given the stabilizing serum; in particular, no ghostly symptoms. Could it be that when she gave birth to this boy, something extraordinary happened to him instead? Could it be that this child had become the perfect half-ghost son?

Putting his plan to kill Jack aside, Vlad snuck Danny down to the royal lab to see if he could maybe extract an ectoplasmic sample. He didn't get too far as Danny began crying and screaming in distress, his tiny form flickering back to his human state.

He heard Maddie and Jack call out for Danny, and the sound of footsteps barrelled outside the doors. Vlad glared down at the insolent child in an attempt to shut him up when Jack's giant orange form barged through the doors, face sullied with fear and anger. A sudden bout of glee filled Vlad's chest at the sight. Perhaps he could have his revenge after all.

With a dramatic flair of his cape, Vlad phased out of the royal lab and disappeared into the night sky with Danny in tow.

Vlad had no intention of keeping the child after extracting the ecto-samples he required to keep himself alive. While his hypothesis proved true that Danny's ectoplasm contained the purest form of the stabilizing serum, it came with the price that without direct contact with Danny's half-ghost nature, the samples mutated within days. And with Jack and Maddie posting guards everywhere in search of their son, Vlad was hard pressed for another solution.

Vlad hid Danny away in a secret isolated lab deep underground, far away from Amity Park where no one could possibly find him. He made certain that Danny would never dream of leaving the lab. The outside world was cruel and vicious to hybrids like them, and the people out there would not hesitate to rip them apart molecule by molecule.

Vlad knew that Maddie and Jack would never stop looking for their son. To ensure that Danny would never be found, Vlad convinced Maddie and Jack that their son was not only lost but gone for good. A kingdom that once celebrated his birth now mourned his death.

And so Vlad raised the young prince in his underground lab, extracting samples of Danny’s ectoplasm to keep himself stable.

This went on until Danny's eighteenth birthday...

#Danny phantom #danny fenton #Vlad masters #dp fic #Maddie Fenton #Jack fenton #Tangled AU #Buried #Buried chapter one #The Dead Prince #My art #imekitty #fanfic #DP AU #chintawrites

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blackacre13 · 3 years

Note

Anything with loubbie plus the rest of the ocean’s 8 team.

even better if its slightly au w/ oceans 8 team PLUS dannys team!🤩

love your fics so much💖💖

Thank you for the love and the suggestion! This takes that idea and more teases at a longer story (which I maybe could be convinced to expand) (just because 20 characters is a lot to write for with a prompt like this) but I hope you enjoy!!

“You have got to be shitting me,” Danny sighed. “Debs came up with this?”

“You think I would come up with this shit?” Lou snorted, sitting back in Danny’s favorite chair.

He decided not to comment on her apparent chair theft even though it bugged him for no good reason.

“Well, where is she?” Danny scoffed.

“Empire State building,” Lou rolled her eyes. “She has a flair for the dramatics if you haven’t noticed. I don’t know. I think it’s something to do with her past and this flamboyant brother of hers who does these big speeches and watches fountain shows in Vegas or—”

“Lou,” he sighed. “I get it. So, how does this work?”

“Well, Danny boy. It’s a heist. Think back to your nonsense with Nyquil Fig—”

“Night Fox,”

“Whatever,” Lou huffed. “One object. We both go after it. And there’s a clock on it. You can pick the item. Whatever you want. And you can have all your boys, eleven, thirteen, what have you. Debbie just wants the two of you to be coming from the same physical starting point. Whoever steals it, keeps it. And whoever steals it, wins.”

“And who’s pulling for Deb?”

“The Met crew.”

“So, seven.”

“Eight with myself,” Lou pointed out. “You don’t think being married gets me out of these little schemes, do you?”

“You’re starting to sound like Tess,”

This time Lou had to bite her tongue from pointing out that unlike Tess, she’d stuck around for her Ocean, but now wasn’t the time. And honestly, she would bet a good chunk of money that the fault was mostly, if not all, on Danny.

“I don’t even know what we’d steal.”

Lou sat forward and gave him a pointed look before standing, her heeled boots clicking against the floor. “I’m sure you’ll come up with something. Nothing, say, like an egg.”

“One egg, Miller,” he sighed. “I’ve stolen one egg. A very important one.”

“It’s still an egg, Ocean,” Lou muttered. “You’ve got some weird ass taste.”

“You’re one to talk,” Danny grinned. “I mean, you married Deborah Ocean.”

“Jealous?” Lou winked. She made her way to the door. “Got an hour to midnight. Deb’s waiting for ya.”

**********************************************************************************

“Alright, that’s Lou’s bike,” Tammy announced, clapping her hands together. “That means Danny’s in the loop now. We still don’t know what he wants us to go after, but I do know that he and Deb both pick their people for a reason.”

“You think we oughtta cover people who do the same kinda job as us?” Nine asked, blowing out a curl of smoke.

“Precisely,” Tammy smiled. “As best as we can, anyway. There’s less of us.”

“Because we’re better,” Daphne smirked, throwing her jacket over the couch as she entered the room. “Lou’s right behind me.”

“Ladies,” Lou saluted, clicking into the room, placing her helmet on the poker table. “What’s the plan? Pairing off?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what any of this means,” Rose sighed.

Amita sat next to her and tried to comfort her, explaining that even if she didn’t like it, there wasn’t as big a risk and it was more for fun anyway.

“Alright,” Lou clapped her hands together as she walked to the front of the room to Debbie’s usual spot, leaning against the stage. “You can guess how this is gonna go down. Deb is already in place. Obviously, if anyone is going to face off with her, it’s Danny. He should be on his way. I’m sure they’ll let it get personal and they’ll stay very behind the scenes just coaching their opposing sides and hopefully not strangling each other.”

“Oh dear,” Rose sighed, burying her head in her lap.

“Now, we told Danny he could choose what to steal but Debbie has been plotting this for a while now and she’s already planted the idea in his head. It’s going to be an art collection.”

“A painting?” Amita asked, confused.

“The whole collection,” Lou smirked. “We’ll need to strip a room at MoMA.”

“Oh, I love this,” Daphne sighed dreamily, sitting on the couch, her hand resting under her chin as she listened. “I really appreciate that we’ve made museums our stomping ground, you know?”

“Barbie, chill,” Nine begged, waving her hand at her.

“Whatcha need me to do, pops?” Constance asked, putting her feet up on the coffee table.

Lou did her best to maintain composed and ignore the questions and reactions coming from all the different women, and Constance’s sneakered feet on her table.

Tammy called them to attention and the blonde shot her a grateful look.

“Anyway, like I said. Deb will cover Danny. That leaves the hungry, hungry hippo for me.”

“Hippo?” Rose asked, putting down her needle and thread.

“Rusty,” Tammy sighed, rolling her eyes. “He’s pretty much the Lou of Danny’s operation. Wardrobe and all.”

“But Lou is so much better at what she does,” Amita interrupted. “And way more stylish.”

“Can I continue a single sentence?” Lou exhaled. The women fell silent, looking at each other. “You can all compare and contrast and whatever the hell you want, let’s just hammer this out so we can break off or Deb is gonna be pissed we’re already running behind. This should be an easy win for us. And it may help us get some favors down the line for future jobs.”

“I’ll start a list,” Tammy offered, walking towards the white board. “Deb and Danny. Lou and Rusty. Got it.”

“We don’t have a Reuben,” Lou admitted. “We fund ourselves. Same with Saul. We know how to con, we don’t have a mentor or anything. It’s just us. And I have a feeling those two will be invited but will head to the casino or racetrack together anyway and leave the work to the kids. They’re not gonna think this involves them.”

“Rose could be good to distract them,” Daphne offered.

Rose looked unconvinced and nauseated at the thought, but said nothing.

“Nine, they’ve got this hacker, Livingston. The thing they’ve got that we don’t is Basher. We have got to keep our eyes peeled for Bash and his antics.”

“Basher Tarr,” Tammy elaborated. “He’s got all these gadgets. Although, is it me or does it just always seem like his solution is to blow something up?”

“Oh, that’s sick!” Constance yelled with a grin.

“Keep Constance far away from him,” Lou sighed. “Nine and Tammy should be able to cover him between the tech and the gadgets.”

“Already have my eyes on this Livingston dude’s computer, boss,” Nine smirked.

“Unfortunately, our Yen is their Yen, so we also have to have our ear to the ground on that situation, but we can use it to our advantage. If he’s getting something done for Danny, maybe we just use his handywork for ourselves.”

“What about those twins?” Tammy wrinkled her nose.

“Virgil and Turk? Whoever gets to them, honestly. I drive for us. We don’t need much muscle.”

“And Frank?”

“Amita and Daphne can cover us on the inside. If anyone would be involved in the artworld it’s Daphne Kluger and her personal jeweler or however you want to spin it. Toss Rose in there too. You need pieces for a photoshoot or Daphne’s home or whatever. Whatever you have to spin, just work it like you would any other job.”

“You’ve gotta gimme something, dad,” Constance groaned.

“Con, we’re literally stealing art. You think we don’t want your hands on the inside at the forefront?” Lou asked, crossing her arms. “They definitely have a pairing for you. Linus Caldwell. Not much older than you. Youngest on Danny’s crew by far. He’s their pickpocket. Your competition. And he’ll probably do the main lifting on the art. You think you can handle that?”

“Fuck, yeah!” Constance laughed. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about!”

“Dear, god,” Tammy sighed, smacking herself in the face with her palm.

***********************************************************************************

“MoMA is a go,” Debbie whispered into the ear piece.

“Knew he’d take the bait, honey,” Lou smiled. “Nice work.”

“You got him all riled up and ready to take on a con while too distracted to fully focus, so right back at you, baby.” Debbie grinned.

“I’ll meet you at the rendezvous point,” Lou promised. “Let me go see what the hell Rusty is up to.”

“You think this is gonna work?” Debbie sighed.

“Yes,” Lou spoke confidently.

“You think Constance is gonna blow something up?”

“You mean, abandon her post watching to see what Linus is gonna do so she can go find Basher and ask to try out one of his explosives?” Lou sighed. “Absofuckinglutely, also yes.”

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