#Danny is disgusted at how well they’re getting along and wanted to get away from their flirting while everyone else ribbed at em | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

deadsetobsessions · 4 months

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AU of my Gotham/Tim Drake! Danny where Danny doesn’t know any knowledge beforehand about the DC universe.

Danny doesn’t know how he got here, but the fact that he now shares something in common with Vlad other than their technical halfa status disgusts him

His new name is Timothy Jackson Drake. It’s so far removed from Danny that his parents had him examined for deafness because he didn’t respond to it. He got better at it, at putting on the mask Janet and Jack Drake wanted to see. So they took him to the circus.

He meets Dick Grayson. Danny thinks the kid is adorable, even if Danny himself is technically younger. He sees the flying Graysons fall. The buzzing in his head doesn’t go away.

He’s five, when the fading spirit of Gotham reaches out and pleads her King to protect her city in her stead. She is fading. He says yes, because she’s one of his. The buzzing in his head settles and oh because that’s what’s been missing this entire time. Danny didn’t have a haunt and Gotham gave him one.

He grieves when she dies, the new title settling around small shoulders, and the city grieves with him. In the city proper, Batman and Robin are having the worst night of their lives in the sudden storm.

He’s nine. Robin is Dick Grayson. Dick Grayson, in turn, is an idiot. Batman… well, he’s at least mentoring and protecting the child vigilante, which is more than Danny ever had. He grows fond of them. How could he not, when they tried their hardest to help his city? To help him?

He shows himself, to the duo, in his Phantom form. It’s still him, still modeled after Danny Fenton’s face instead of Tim Drake’s. Ghosts are a reflection of the soul, after all.

“Who are you,” Batman demands, shielding Robin with half a step.

“Gotham.” He replies. Danny wills the city to affirm his claim and the city wraps its arms around the vigilantes. Batman and Robin understands, a deep well of pure knowledge being tapped into in ways they weren’t truly meant to understand.

“…How?”

“Magic,” Phantom says, dry. He tells them of city spirits, and that they can call him in times of dire need.

Dick calls him to help with Two Face. Two Face learns the pain of unmelting ice to the balls.

His core aches when the Bats fight, but Danny knows now that it is inevitable. They’re part of his haunt, his ‘fraid. He knows these things far before they come into fruition.

Dick moves to a sister city. Phantom expands his haunt to Bludhaven because he doesn’t, won’t, ever leave his Robins to themselves.

Nightwing is hopeful, is pleasantly surprised, and very suspicious when he shows up during patrol.

“Gotham…? What are you doing here…? This isn’t, well, Gotham?”

“Satellite City. It is an extension of myself. You were Robin, yes. You’re Nightwing, now. But that doesn’t mean I won’t protect you when I can.”

Phantom goes back, and finds a kid trying to steal tires to make a living. He guides his Knight to him. The starved features, the bones Danny could see, it tugs at his core. It feels like the Ancient of Fate themselves were pulling him along.

“How’d you know I was taking the wheels?”

“Gotham.”

“Are you… high on shrooms or something?”

Bruce sighs. Batman asks Gotham to meet the new Robin, and chuckles when Jason is surprised by the glowing green figure.

Phantom hides this Robin just as much as the last one. He curls shadows around his vigilantes, sometimes at the same time, and softens what little sounds they made while stalking through his city for crime.

He makes small jokes with Jason. Danny forgets, a little, the crushing loneliness of being Timothy Drake.

“I didn’t kill Garzona!”

“You-”

Batman stops as a chill he’s never had experienced directed at him weaves around his neck. An angry Gotham.

“He didn’t kill him.” Danny slides a cold hand on Jason’s shoulders.

But the damage had been done and the next day, Batman is begging Danny to tell him any clues of where Jason had gone.

“Ethiopia.”

He clears the way for Batman to get to Robin. He clears the way for Bruce to get to Jason.

He’d fallen into the trap of believing that Batman would handle everything when in the end, he’s just a man in a mantle that demands more than he ever thought he’d have to pay.

Robin is dead and Danny grieves. The skies crack open and pours a torrent of smogged rain water upon the streets of Gotham. Despite that, Crime Alley is untouched by flood. They say the second Robin was protecting his home.

In a way, it’s not wrong.

Gotham fishes Batman from the bay, carelessly tossing the broken Joker against a shipping container.

“You can’t keep doing this. You’ll die.”

Bruce, Batman, lays on his back, eyes glazed and empty. “Maybe I want to.” He admits. And Danny can’t lose someone else. It’s already bad enough he feels the death of everyone in his city, he can’t lose him too. But Dick won’t come back. He already denied Gotham when Phantom had asked him to come back. Granted, Dick was nervous about denying him the entire time, but Danny realized that he’d lost a brother in the colors his parents chose for Dick. Danny- Phantom had cradled Dick in a swaddle of shadows and comfort.

“Alright.”

“Is it? Alright? I- I don’t want to fail you, Gotham.”

“It is. You’ve always made me proud. You will always make me proud. Whether it be by different name, it matters to me not. Stay. Heal.”

Like Dick was given permission, like he received a hint of peace, Dick Grayson crumpled to the floor and sobbed into Gotham’s shoulder.

(Later, long after Dick Grayson realized his little brother was also his city personified, he cries again into Tim’s shoulders after the later dropped a flower pot perfectly on top of Catalina Flores’ head.)

Gotham, Phantom, Danny makes a choice.

“Tomorrow, a child will show up at your door. You will let him in.”

“No- I can’t. I won’t.” He knows what Danny will ask of him.

“You will.” Danny doesn’t ever do it with his people, with his city, but dire times call for dire actions. It is an order. And Batman is Gotham’s knight. “You will. You will train him. You need a Robin to leash your brutality. I need a Robin, for Robin is my hope. The city’s hope. Our people’s hope. Do not forget the goal you have set out to accomplish in my city.”

Batman rages at him, until he falls unconscious from the wounds he’s gathered. Danny brings him home. He tells Alfred what to expect tomorrow. Bruce wakes up, eyes fixated on the crack that appeared on Danny’s neon green face. “Did. Did I do that?”

Danny nods slowly.

Batman crumples into Bruce Wayne. “Okay.” He says. “Alright. Tomorrow.”

Gotham watches him, unreadable. “Tomorrow.” He says, before fading away.

Tim Drake shows up at the door. Nightwing shows up not long after. Tim Drake adapts to Bruce Wayne’s cold looks and brutal training. Slowly, but surely, he leashes in Batman’s grief fueled brutality and less criminals go to prison with half of their lives beaten out of them.

Batman doesn’t see Gotham as much anymore. He feared that he’s angered his city, that he is no longer welcome.

When Tim figures it out… he allows the roads and the shadows to help Batman once more.

Batman stared intently at the extra coverage. “Thank you,” Tim hears him whisper. “I’m sorry.”

And when Jason Todd comes back to life and attacks Tim in the tower, Tim lets Hood beat him. Gotham had failed him, as Jason’s city. He deserves it. (He doesn’t but Danny had gone past the point of being healthy about his own physical wellbeing. Perhaps being a city spirit this long had affected him, even with the King’s title mitigating the worst of the damages.

“HE REPLACED ME!”

“Because I ordered him to.” Tim whispers, past the pain of a broken leg.

“You? Order Batman around? If you’re going to lie, make it a better one, Replacement.”

Tim catches Jason’s wrist, the one holding the knife to Tim’s throat.

“Robin,” he says simply, allowing Gotham to come out and peer at the child that is his.

Jason stares, disbelieving. Gotham had… Gotham had come by and approved of his plans to clean up Crime Alley. Gotham had extracted a promise not to damage the buildings.

“No.”

His city stares back and him and Jason stumbles away. Tim shifts into Danny, into Gotham.

“You…”

“I am Gotham. I- I did not want to wear these colors. They were yours and Dick’s. But Bruce was hurting the city, he was hurting me. So I made sure he stopped.”

Jason stares at the new cracks, the fresh ones he just caused and the old ones he does not remember being on Danny’s ghostly skin.

Jason swallows. “I’m sorry.”

“As am I. I am sorry I was not there to save you. I am sorry that you died.”

Jason stares at him. The Replacement is Gotham. Jason almost destroyed his city.

“I am glad that you’ve returned. That you’re alive, now.”

“…Really?”

“Always.”

Alternative Version of the above Tower Scene:

Jason slides the knife against the Replacement’s neck.

Danny sighs. “I can’t believe I’m dying again.”

Jason pauses. “What the fuck did you just say, Replacement?”

Danny rolls his eyes at him and Jason rethinks his decision of not offing the little fucker right away.

“You think you’re the first one to die in this household? Get a grip. I did it first, way before you did, jackass.”

Tim is 14. He’s a child. What the fuck is Jason doing?

“When…?”

“How do you think I became Gotham, little bird?”

Jason freezes. And then he’s scrambling backwards, the knife flung away in his horror.

Tim shifts into Gotham and Jason bites back a cut of regret and bitterness.

He… no, what? What even is happening?

“Why is the Joker not dead? You… you told me that you loved me. That Gotham… that-”

“I’m cruel, little bird. The Joker would not suffer as much if he were dead.”

“He’s killing people! He’s killing your own!”

“So everyone thinks.”

“What?”

“I am Gotham, little bird. Mass hallucinogenic gasses are so within my reach to the point it is concerning. Perhaps you should help Ivy with the city clean up?”

“Huh?!”

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heliads · 7 months

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Hiya Lisa my love!! I think this may be the first request I’m sending you (omg!?) But I am so excited to do so, and of course for our best boy Jack Wilder <3

Okay this one’s a little silly but I’m thinking Jack Wilder x reader where the reader is part of the Horsemen, but Jack and her don’t exactly get along all too well (enemies/reluctant allies to lovers). I’m thinking they’re sent off together to check out and map a location for the Horsemen’s next big act (maybe a fancy gala! That’d be so fun!), but the whole time they’re just bickering and shooting jabs at each other and the other guys are on comms and are just So Tired™ of their bullshit 😭

amber i love you for this

masterlist

You don’t think you’ve ever seen the magical enigma known professionally as J. Daniel Atlas and familiarly as a pain in all of your asses as stressed as he is right before the start of a new job. The Horsemen are world renowned for their intricate performances and flawless setups, which only serves to increase the pressure on all of you to keep one-upping yourselves every time you appear in the spotlight. Danny has taken it upon himself to make sure that all of you stay perfect, and that responsibility is manifesting itself in the form of a lecture right now.

He’s standing in front of you, eyes wild with the fire of what could be creative genius or perhaps too much coffee, and rattling off a series of questions to make sure you know what you’re doing.

“Where are you going?” He asks first.

You meet his gaze steadily. “The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Specifically the busiest areas during the Met Gala.”

“How are you entering?” Danny queries.

“Two ways. First, as a tourist, to spot the security cameras. Then, I’ll go again at night, to lay some cameras of our own and run some more thorough investigations.”

Danny takes a step closer. His hands are steepled together, making him the perfect picture of a plotting supervillain from one of those bad action movies Merritt keeps playing. “What, specifically, are you looking for?”

You want to roll your eyes, but you learned a long time ago that showing any sort of emotion except for intensity in front of Daniel Atlas during his mad planning sessions is only asking for trouble. So, you keep your cool, or you try to, at least. “The normal stuff. Alcoves and closets where we can hide. Areas with low security presence. Entrances and exits. Janitors. Extra uniforms. That sort of thing.”

Daniel nods once, the only sign that you’re not outright bombing his little pop quiz. “And who is going with you on this reconnaissance mission?”

This time, you can’t disguise your sigh of disgust. “I’m taking a stubborn child.”

Danny gives you a cool stare. “Try again.”

You give him a look, but Daniel is prone to winning staring contests, especially when he’s in this sort of mood, so you cut your losses and give in. “Fine. I’m taking Jack.”

To your side, someone starts clapping. “Perfect response!”

You and Daniel both turn in unison to see your recon partner applauding your sarcastic answer from his chair a few paces away. His feet are kicked up on the table in front of him, and although he had been aimlessly scrolling through his phone this entire time, he’s put the device down temporarily so he can remind you just how strong a bond the two of you share. Which is to say, in no uncertain terms, none at all.

Daniel glances back at you. “You’re not going to let the two of you working together be a problem, will you?”

You fold your arms across his chest, affronted. “I won’t. You might want to double-check with my so-called partner, though. Who, by the way, is free to answer any of these questions on his own. I don’t see why I’m the one who has to know everything while he gets off easy. Aren’t we sharing this responsibility? And by extension, this interrogation?”

Jack just flashes you a thousand-watt smile. “You seemed to have it covered, sweetheart. Besides, I just like hearing the sound of your lovely voice.”

You flip him off. He blows you a kiss, then does the same. Daniel looks ready to burst a blood vessel. “Focus, you two. I want no slip ups. We’re stealing the show of the Met Gala. If we make a mistake, I think Anna Wintour will personally kill us.”

“She’s going to do that anyway,” Jack muses, “We’re interrupting her little fashion show. God forbid someone focuses on us instead of all the celebrities who aren’t even dressing to theme. If I had that money, I could do way better, is all I’m saying.”

You shoot him a perplexed look. “Since when have you paid attention to the Met Gala outfits? Last time I tried talking about it, you told me that was all absurdist nonsense.”

“Maybe I was just talking about you,” Jack answers vaguely. “I’m allowed to, like, develop interests.”

You toss him a glare, then turn back to Daniel, who for some reason looks somewhat entertained. “Can we go back to the plan, please?”

Danny straightens up. “Yes, I’d like that. I’ve briefed both of you on the entrances and exits I need you to scout out–”

“Too many times,” Jack cuts in. He’s not wrong. Danny’s been over this every hour on the hour since you got the call to stage your own show at one of the most famous fashion opportunities of the year.

Daniel, however, seems to think that he hasn’t mentioned the details enough. Now Jack is on the receiving end of not just your glare but Daniel’s as well. “As I was saying,” Danny continues smoothly, “You’ll get in and get out. Try not to move too quickly, you don’t want to attract attention, but don’t linger too long, either.”

“We’ll be fine,” you assure him. “Not our first rodeo.”

Danny nods hesitantly. “I know. Just your first rodeo together in a while.”

That’s no big secret. You and Jack may both be Horsemen, but that certainly doesn’t mean you have to like each other. In fact, you couldn’t be farther from it. You’re not enemies, so to speak, an enemy is the FBI or the CIA, but referring to whatever exists between you as friendship is stretching the truth. You’re more like uncertain, unhappy allies. You’ll work together so long as you get paid and stay in the spotlight while you’re at it, but you’re not likely to grab drinks after a show together.

However, the Horsemen come first above any personal squabble. Always. That’s the one thing you and Jack can agree on. What you’re working on is bigger than the two of you, it’s bigger than all of you. To most of the world, you are magic. No rift between teammates is worth damaging that ideal.

That’s why Jack straightens up at last, and dons an expression verging on solemnity. “We’ll do our part, Danny. No need to worry.”

“There had better not be,” Daniel comments, but he backs off after that, and leaves to track down Merritt to deliver a similar speech.

Now alone, Jack’s familiar cavalier attitude comes back in a flash. “Can’t wait for our little date tomorrow, L/N,” he tells you.

You roll your eyes. “It’s going to be so much fun.”

The next morning, you and Jack wait your turn in the entrance queue at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. You’re both disguised with baseball caps pulled low over your heads, then paired with sunglasses, and you each have fake IDs in your pockets just in case. It’s surprisingly easy to get around undetected; although the Horsemen are famous the world over, no one expects to see them outside of one of your performances. It makes no sense to spot one of you in a coffee shop or in line ahead of you, so their minds just glance over you as if you were never there at all.

It’s certainly convenient. You could always go to an outside source for intel, but if there’s one lesson you’ve learned throughout your time, it’s to never trust anyone outside of your immediate circle. There are always people who’ll sell off your secrets, or debunkers frothing at the mouth to show how you do what you do.

No, it’s best to keep everything under wraps, even if it makes disguises necessary. There’s a brief moment of panic in which the security guard checking Jack’s bag lingers on his face a little longer than usual, but he’s waved through soon enough and then you’re able to wander further into the museum.

A voice crackles over your earpiece. “What was that about?” Danny, paranoid as always.

Jack shrugs, directing his voice towards you so no one will suspect he’s talking to anyone else. “Probably just a newbie convinced they’ll catch a would-be robber by checking my hand sanitizer close enough. They didn’t plant any bugs, we’re good. Most likely, she was just captivated by my exceedingly good looks and got distracted.”

You scoff. “Or maybe she was just fascinated by your hideousness and wanted a better look.”

Jack clutches a hand to his heart, feigning agony. “My hideousness?” Y/N, I’m hurt.”

“Good,” you smile saccharinely at him.

Daniel sighs in a gust of static over your earpiece. “Focus, you two. Please.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” Jack says. “We’ll get to work.”

You and Jack slip through the exhibits, pretending to examine paintings in sculptures when, in reality, you’re looking harder at the security features in each room. The Horsemen already have a rough plan in mind for how you’re going to enter and exit, but the security presence could change which specific entrance you use.

When you loiter a little too long near one oil painting of two nobles dancing at a lavish ball, Jack doubles back to your side. “Everything alright? We haven’t been noticed yet, have we?”

You shake your head, snapping yourself back to reality. “No, we’re fine. Just looking. I love this year’s theme for the gala. If I had an actual invitation, I would have worn something like the dress in this painting. I would want to, at least. Of course, that would only happen if we weren’t breaking in, but. Yeah. That’s what I would do.”

You realize you’re rambling and try to cut yourself off, but you’ve already been going on for a while. You wait for Jack to tease you, but instead, the corner of his lips tugs up in a soft half-smile. “It would look good,” he admits, “You would. Maybe we should petition Danny to let us dress up. We could recreate the painting.”

He swoops closer, placing one hand on your waist and taking yours with the other, spinning you into a waltz just like in the painting. Jack pulls you close in an exaggerated dip just like in the painting, one that takes you a little too near the painting. One of the security guards surges across the room to tell you two to move away again. Jack lets you up, then exaggeratedly apologizing, slapping the guy on the back as a gesture of camaraderie. As the guard walks away, you can see the tracer he’s planted, one that will give you two much-needed information on the paths each guard takes on their shift.

“Nice one,” you breathe.

“Yeah,” Jack says, but he’s still looking at you, as if mentally cataloging each and every place his hands had been just moments before. “I am nice.”

You swat him on the shoulder, and he winks. Rather than give that an answer, you head to the next exhibit. The two of you tag the next few guards you come across, noting janitor’s closets and fire exits while you’re at it.

It’s easy to settle into a rhythm. You go from room to room, you snipe at each other, you get the job done. Jack passes a sculpture of a nude woman and suggests that be the costume you wear to the Gala, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively; you tell him that you’ll do it only when he’s got biceps the size of the Greek hero statue next to it.

Eventually, you only have one tag left. This one, though, will be the most difficult. The chief security guard has access to the central security station of the museum; by bugging him, you can get the passcode to the main room, which would be a significant help. The only problem is that you’ll have to get close enough to talk to the guy, and he looks far more suspicious of everyone around him than any of the other guards.

You volunteer to do it, and weave your way over to the guard in charge. It takes a heady dose of flirting, but you’re able to get the job done eventually. You do have to shell out a fake phone number, but he’ll only find out the number isn’t yours later that night. No harm, no foul.

Or, not according to you, at least. When you walk back over to Jack, though, your partner in crime has his arms folded tight across his chest, and he looks more annoyed than you’ve seen him all day. At last, something has managed to pierce his armor of sarcastic, joking indifference, but you’re not sure what.

“He seems nice,” Jack says, voice unnaturally calm, “Maybe you do want to take him out on a date after this, like you said.”

You laugh. “We both know that was an act, Wilder. No need to get jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” he insists, “I have nothing to be jealous of.”

“Nothing?” You ask, one brow raised. “So you wouldn’t mind if I went back and gave him my real number?”

Jack slings an arm around your shoulder in a pretense of affection, but it feels more like he’s pinning you to him, making sure you can’t go back and do as threatened. “That would be ridiculous. It would ruin our whole act.”

You grin. “What act?”

“That we’re here on a date of our own, obviously,” Jack says.

“We haven’t done anything of the sort the whole time we were here,” you point out. “It makes more sense for him to think we’re just friends.”

“Then we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?” Jack suggests, and although you do notice the glint in his eyes when he says it, you’re still not expecting him to lean forward and kiss you. The kiss is– startling, yes, but not bad, not at all, and when he finally breaks away and looks triumphantly over at the guard who’d been flirting with you, you get the feeling that Jack thought so too.

“I think we should do this all the time,” Jack whispers to you. “Maybe we should ask Danny to change our assignments around.”

“Actually,” a voice crackles over your earpieces, “I’d rather neither of you ever spoke to me again. If I have to think about you two making out one more time, I’ll pour bleach directly into my brain.”

You slap a hand over your mouth to stop from laughing. “Oh, no. Daniel, how long have our comms been on?”

“The whole time,” your showman says, “I hated all of it, thank you for asking.”

Jack snorts. “And you didn’t remind us to turn off our mics?”

“Merritt wanted to see if you’d actually commit enough to do it,” Danny says, sounding supremely unhappy. “Now we’re both traumatized. Just get your asses back here and never bring this up again.”

This time, you can’t hide your laugh. “Alright, we will. Try to stay away from the bleach in the meantime.”

“I make no promises,” Danny grumbles, sending you and Jack into a wave of laughter again.

Jack reaches up to switch off his own earpiece, then does the same for you, gently brushing the side of your face with his hand while he’s at it. “Well,” he says slowly, “We might as well make the most of our time right now, hadn’t we? I’d hate for our ticket money to go to waste.”

You grin. “Quit the theatrics and kiss me.”

Jack Wilder doesn’t usually do as told. This time, though, he makes an exception.

requested by @hiya-itsamber, i hope you enjoy!

now you see me tags: @mayfieldss

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tsrookie · 3 years

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Always In My Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Alyssa Brooks)

A/N: On today’s episode of ‘I have no idea wtf I’m doing’, we have something that I cooked up because I had terrible WiFi and no other app but Google docs would open up.

Trope: Fluff, but a tiny bit of angst?

Rating: General

Word Count: 2.3K

Warning(s): Mentions of character death

Summary: Their son has a very important question to ask.

——————————

The delicious aroma of chicken and rice wafted through the Brooks-Ramsey household. The couple worked side by side in the kitchen as they had all those years ago, the only difference being that it was now a dinner for five and not just two.

Allison Dolores Brooks-Ramsey came into their lives nine years ago, and while it was earlier than they would have wanted, they didn’t regret a second of their lives ever since they first heard her voice.

The twins on the other hand, were planned, but nothing had prepared them for the chaos that Nathan and Natalie would bring. A new broken object every week, a dozen fights for the TV every day, and yet were nothing short of tiny tornadoes when they joined forces.

It couldn’t be more perfect.

“What time did Jackie and Emilia say that they would bring the girls back?”

“6:30, I think.”

“Ah. So we have time till 7:00.” They shared a knowing smile. Two aunts taking their nine and six year old nieces to the mall meant a complete raid of the toy store, and a new guitar.

“You need to stop letting everyone spoil the girls just because you have a soft spot for them, Ethan. Ally’s grown old enough to understand that she has her daddy wrapped around her finger, and we don’t need Nat coming to that realisation as well.”

“I don’t- I can’t believe you would accuse me of not loving all my children equally!”, he exclaimed in mock offense.

“Mhmm. So why did I have to come up with an explanation to tell Nathan why his dad wasn’t on board with ordering dessert when he asked for it, but relented once his sisters kept bugging him for another five minutes?”

He opened his mouth in protest, but decided against saying anything for his own good. “Well what can I say? They’ve inherited their mother’s persuasiveness. And I can’t really say no to you, can I?”

Alyssa’s lips curved upwards at that. The playful look in her husband’s eyes caused her to finally break into a grin. “At least you’re self-aware.” Stuffing the rice into the bird she added, “But I can’t exactly tell our son that his dad is too in-love with his mom that he sees her in his daughters and hence can’t say no to them. He’d gag in disgust.”

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her, resting his head in the crook of her neck. “That he would. Alright I’ll try a little harder to resist their charms. Wouldn’t want my only son to end up hating me.” He said it without a hint of worry over it becoming true someday. Over the years, he’d learned to put aside his fears of not being a good father, and with the help of some therapy, and Alyssa’s unwavering love and support, he’d locked up his insecurities in a box and let it sink to the bottom of the ocean.

They took the stuffed chicken and put it in the oven, washed their hands and plopped down on the couch for some rare downtime.

“Crap.”

“Everything okay?”

“Fred’s mom got called in, so she’s dropping Nate off on her way to work.”

Ethan sighed. “There goes the hour I planned to spend with my wife, who I barely get to spend enough time with these days.”

“I swear, you were never this busy when you were chief. I have no idea why my workload’s ten times bigger.”

“I do.” Ethan smiled with pride. “One usually does have a lot of work when they’re at the front lines of the battle for making free healthcare accessible for every single person in the country. My brilliant wife, though she could choose to leave most of the work to her very competent team, opts to take it all upon herself. So that’s probably the cause behind all the extra workload she complains about.”

She smirked and perched herself onto his lap. “Well your very brilliant wife also knows that you called my team very competent just to avoid hurting my feelings, and that you and I both know that they’ll be running around like headless chickens without me taking care of things.”

“I know, love. But you can still make them do a little more instead of working yourself to the bone while still making sure that you have at least one meal with the kids every day.”

She sighed. “Yeah, to make sure that they don’t forget what I look like.” She leaned in closer. “Besides, are we really going to spend our last few minutes of peace talking about work?”

Just as she uttered the words, the door burst open, and Nathan kicked off his shoes and jumped onto the couch as Alyssa slid down from Ethan’s lap. She shot him a look that very clearly meant What did I just say?

Ethan gave her an apologetic look and ruffled his son’s hair. “Hey buddy. How was your day at Fred’s? I know you wanted to spend more time with him.”

“I did, and we were just about to open his new LEGO set when Mrs. Watson told us that she had to run up to her office for some emergency meeting.”, he pouted. “But it was a nice day. We watched Thor: Ragnarok and Luca, and we would’ve watched another movie if his dad didn’t tell us that two movies were enough for a day.”

Alyssa shot him a mildly stern look. “Well he was right. You’re too young to have movie marathons just yet. Two are more than enough, unless you want to have a headache.”

“But mom, I’m not too young! I’m a big boy! I can swing along the monkey bars at the park faster than Natalie, and soon I’ll swing across buildings just like Spider-Man!”

“Well Spider-Man got bitten by a yucky spider before he swung across buildings. Do you want to be bitten by a gross and poisonous spider?”

“Mommy, not all spiders are gross and poisonous. Dad told me that when I was four and got scared of them at the zoo.”

She rolled her eyes. Leave it to her husband to convince her kids that insects were anything short of creepy and disgusting. In reality, they were, but as someone who ran a mile away at the sight of a butterfly, she wasn’t going to accept that.

“That’s right, Nate. Some of them are certainly very poisonous and dangerous, but that doesn’t mean that you should be scared of them. If you maintain your distance and admire them from afar, there should be no problem at all.”, he said with a pointed look at Alyssa, who just huffed in annoyance.

Nathan giggled, his brown eyes lighting up with amusement. He loved watching his parents playfully bicker. It was way better than seeing them- ugh, kiss.

“We were pretending to be superheroes and Fred used his full name for his pretend name cause it sounded cool, and it is. Fredrick Anthony Watson sounds like something from that show you and mom watch with the guys in the stuffy suits.”

“When did you see us watching the show with the guys in the stuffy suits?”, asked Ethan with a slight hint of concern. Whatever he and Alyssa watched on their free nights was definitely not kid-friendly.

“I don’t remember. Maybe a few months ago.”

Their year old puppy, Ivy, woke up from her nap and bounced into the living room to jump onto her favourite person. Nathan squealed with joy as the fluffy hair of the dog tickled his nose.

Ethan and Alyssa smiled at each other. Getting another dog after Jenner was a decision that took a lot of convincing, but their kids were responsible enough and it was impossible to say no after two years of constant pestering.

“Fred told me that he was named after his great-grandfather William, and that he was this really cool guy who saved a bunch of guys from getting mugged in a dark, dark alley.” He turned to look at his parents as Ivy snuggled into his lap. “Who was I named after mom?”

The question caught her off guard, and she glanced at Ethan for backup.

When they knew that they were having a boy, they immediately knew what to name him. They hadn't, however, anticipated Nathan Daniel Brooks-Ramsey to ask such a question this soon.

Seeing his wife at a loss for words, Ethan spoke up. “C’mere Nate.” He pulled him closer and pressed a kiss atop his head. “We once had a friend named Daniel. He worked at the hospital as a nurse, and he was close to your mom and Aunt Sienna when they were interns.”

Having found her voice, Alyssa joined in. “He was an amazing friend. He was the only nurse in the hospital who helped me out when things got messy, and cheered up Aunt Sienna when no one else could. He’d join us for picnics and movie nights, and you could always count on him if you needed something at the hospital.” She took a deep breath, and Ethan nodded. “Things were going well, but then in my second year, something really bad happened.”

“Oh no.”

“There was this bad guy, who wanted his revenge on another bad guy, and he was ready to risk his own life, and the lives of everyone around him to do so.”

“That’s horrible! Who would want to do something like that?”

Ethan smiled wistfully. “A lot of people in this world actually do. You’re a good person, so you know that it’s wrong. But some people aren’t, and they don’t care about other people getting hurt because of their actions. That night at the hospital, Danny tried to tell the bad guy that it was wrong, and to think things through. But he didn’t listen, and did something that hurt both himself, Danny, Uncle Raf, another friend of ours, and your mom.”

His little eyebrows creased with worry, Nathan asked, “What happened then?”

“He… he died. Along with our other friend, Bobby. Do you remember what we once told you about an autopsy?” Nathan nodded his head. “Well Danny asked for his body to be autopsied, and thanks to him, we were able to find out what was wrong with mom and Uncle Raf.”

He fell silent for a moment, remembering the horrors of the day, and how eternally grateful he was to Danny for being the reason he didn’t lose everything. He couldn’t imagine a life without the love of his life and his children, and he wouldn’t have either if not for the sacrifices that were made.

He looked up at Alyssa, and she squeezed his hand in support. “We’ll tell you more when you’re older, but to make it short, you’re named after a hero too. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have you, your sisters, or mom here with me.”

Nathan wriggled out of his dad’s arms, and set Ivy down so he could hug his mom as tightly as he could.

“Well… if you can hear me Mr. Daniel, I just wanna thank you. Thanks for saving my mom. I love her so much and I’m so thankful that I got to meet her because of what you did. I wish I could’ve met you, you sound like a really cool person, and I’m sure you were. So yeah, thanks. A lot.”

Alyssa’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears, and she held her son as she expressed her silent thanks along with Ethan.

What they had was precious.

Fifteen years had passed since they first met, and yet each day they fell in love a little more like they did when they held hands for the first time in the dim light of the NICU watching over little Ethan, or when she finally got to see the real him the first time she visited his place; the first time in years he let someone know a little of the worries residing deep in his heart.

With all the odds against them, it was a miracle that they survived, even more so that they managed to raise three perfect children who had more love to share than they could ever comprehend.

And they’d never forget all the reasons that made it possible for them to survive.

Ding!

The timer on the oven went off, and they got to their feet to get the chicken.

“Was he a good cook dad?”

“I… don’t really know, Nate. Your mom knew him better than I did.”

“Well there was this one time where he helped Aunt Sienna bake an amazing cake, so I guess he knew his way around the kitchen.”, Alyssa recollected fondly. It was for Jackie’s birthday, one of the few nights where the competition was completely forgotten about.

Nathan’s face melted into a glowing smile. “I love cake. So I guess I really would’ve loved him.”

She mirrored his radiant expression. “You definitely would’ve.”

“Why don’t you go play with Ivy while mom and I get the food ready? You can help us with the dessert later.”

“We’re having dessert?!”

Ethan grinned at his son’s excitement. “You bet we are.”

“Yay!” They watched as Nathan ran off to go play fetch with Ivy in their enormous backyard.

Ethan pulled Alyssa in for a sweet, lingering kiss as soon as he was out of sight.

“You’ve been wanting to do that for a while now hmm?”

“Something like that.”, he murmured as they broke apart.

She could see the ever-increasing strands of silver in his brown hair, and the faint wrinkles along the sides of his forehead, but his clear blue eyes were just as loving and devoted as she remembered from over a decade ago.

“We have a pretty good life, don’t we?”

Ethan kissed her again. “No, we have the perfect life.”

——————————

A/N 2: Aaaand I’m going MIA again. Honestly though, to everyone who’s read so far, thank you so much for sticking around. Means the world💙

P.S: I finally chose Chyler Leigh as my face claim!

Taglist: @whimsicallywayward15 @aleynareads @starrystarrytrouble @dxnicaramsey @decadentwinnerjudgedream @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey @rookiefromedenbrook @eramsey28 @the-pale-goddess @ohchoices @wellhelloramsey @mvalentine @swiftlydarcy @utterlyinevitable @akshara16 @sushiharrington @drethanramslay @lion-ess24 @whippedforethanfreakingramsey @drariellevalentine @perriewinklenerdie @blossomanarchy @stateofgracious @takemyopenheart @open-heart-ramseyyy @maurine07 @udishaman @queencarb @ethanramseylover @rookiemarsswiftie @aworldoffandoms @lsvdw-blog @n03lia @openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfan @jamespotterthefirst @senseofduties

Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist!

#ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #open heart #playchoices #ethan ramsey fanfiction

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jinmukangwrites · 3 years

Text

@damianwayneweek Day 2 (6-14): Undercover | Sibling rivalry | Damian having a nice day

Warnings: Mentions of trafficking, threats, violence, attempted kidnapping, injuries, healthy doses of angst

Note: hahahahaha once again I'm begging you all to pretend I posted this when it's still the 14th somewhere in the world. Please enjoy.

---

Damian didn't mean to get caught. Honest. As annoying as it is, he understands that there are certain parts of their nightlife that have to be handled by an adult. Going undercover, for one, is usually something that's left to Grayson. It's easier for adults to blend into some things than it is for... well... Teenagers.

Children, as Grayson would say. Even though Damian is not a child.

Not that it matters, however. Grayson, for the past week, has been putting off their normal patrols to get insider information on a recent underground trafficking scheme. Grayson has been working hard to find the people responsible for this and get on the inside to find where the victims are being kept and Damian had respected that. He's kept to the sidelines and worked on other cases that don't require so much adult delicacy.

The only issue was that tonight he ended up getting bored. There wasn't anything for him to do, and that butler wasn't giving him any useful suggestions to fill his time. He wasn't allowed to patrol alone while Grayson was undercover, but escaping through his bedroom window in a dark hoodie was simple enough.

One thing leads to another. He ended up walking into an alleyway where a man was getting rather forceful with a drunk woman. Damian was jogging forward and calling him out on the disgusting behavior before he even realized he recognized the profile of the man.

Grayson turned from the woman with wide, horrified eyes, not moving a muscle even as the woman slipped from beside him and rushed back into the bar's side door.

"Shit," is all Grayson said before more people came out from the shadows, and Damian realizes he's just stumbled upon Grayson's undercover work.

Damian, for all of his training, has no idea what to do as he's suddenly grabbed by one of the newcomers. He's just witnessed Grayson in his undercover work... attempting to kidnap a woman... and he shouldn't be here.

"The fuck did this brat come from," the man grabbing Damian sneers.

Damian reacts instinctively now, slamming his elbow back into their gut. The man wheezes and weakens his hold. Damian then ducks under a new pair of arms making a mad grab for him and is sure to trip them over onto the cement ground as they stumble past.

A beefier man charges at Damian like a bull, and he prepares to retaliate... only for Grayson to grab him by his arm and shove Damian behind his back.

"Wait," Grayson gasps, bringing his free hand up in front of him. The man stops in his tracks, as do all the others. "It's my... brother."

"Your brother?" A woman scoffs, and Grayson gives her a hard look.

A mean looking man steps forward, glaring daggers at Grayson. "What's he doin' here Malone? Thought'chu said you weren't followed."

"I'm sorry," Grayson says, sounding panicked. Damian wants to jump out from behind Grayson and give these kidnappers a piece of his mind. There can't be more than seven of them. Damian can take them with his hands tied behind his back. Grayson must sense this, because he tightens his hold on his arm. "I thought he was at home."

"Well, he wasn't," the man snarls. "And now that bitch is probably in there telling the barkeep some guy got handsy with her."

Grayson shakes his head. "She isn't. I paid off the barkeep. If we calm down, I can go back in there and finish the job. Danny here won't say anything, he knows what we have to do to survive these streets. Right, Danny?"

Damian's lips thin, but he nods. Damian doesn't know why Richard is acting all frightful right now. Has he forgotten the legacy of Damian's father that he holds? He carries the name of Batman, yet here he is looking like a frightened animal in front of these low-lives. He wants to argue and take down these imbeciles... but if there's one thing he's learned while in his ever lengthening stay in Gotham, Grayson usually has a reason for everything he does. If he thinks they need to act like they're frightened, then Damian will humor him. For now.

The man looks down from Grayson and gives Damian a narrowed look. It lasts only a moment before he looks at the bar side-door and... smirks?

He looks back at Grayson, keeping that smirk. "Alright, Malone. I'll take you up on that offer. You get the bitch, and we'll take care of Danny."

A bad feeling settles in Damian's gut. The hand on his arm tightens even more, proof that Grayson has the same bad feeling. They don't have a chance to say anything about it, however, before the man strides forward and grabs Damian by his other arm; yanking him away from Grayson and towards the big man.

Grayson shoots them a murderous glare, but doesn't come to Damian's aid as the big man tightens both of his hands on Damian's biceps. His pointer fingers press just under his shoulders, and he swears his pinkies wrap close to Damian's elbows.

"Go on," the talkative man says, jerking his head to the door, showing his rotting teeth in a grin. "Get the bitch."

Grayson shoots a look Damian's way, then nods. "Okay," he says placidly. "Okay." He turns his back and starts towards the door.

Then, the man looks at another in their group and nods his head. The man's cheeks rise like a Cheshire cat before he starts towards Grayson, raising a fist.

"Grayson! Look out!" Damian shouts. Grayson, for his part, reacts immediately. He ducks under the blow and side steps his attacker.

However, that's all Damian sees before the man that has him in his grasp changes position quite suddenly so that Damian is practically hanging in his grasp—an arm the size of a log wrapped around his neck. Damian's hands fly to the arm and he attempts to kick his feet for purchase. His air is already cut off, and he curses himself for getting in a situation like this.

He stills, however, when something cold and metal is pressed against his head by the man's free hand. Through blurry eyes and choking gasps, he notices Grayson has gone still too.

"I knew you were fishy," the man from before cackled. "Grayson? That your real name?"

Grayson glares, but doesn't move.

"Here's what's gonna happen, you're gon let us do whatever we want wit'cha, and maybe we'll let the kid live after."

And just like that, Grayson is at the receiving end of a savage blow to his jaw from another member of the group. Grayson stumbles and clutches his jaw, but he doesn't fight back even as another jumps in and throws their own punch. Damian can already see blood dripping down his cheek from a cut in the skin.

He's hit again, and he continues to not fight back. Damian knows he'll take the beating, even though he can easily take them down. He won't risk the gun pressed against Damian's head. He won't risk the arm wrapped so right around Damian's neck it feels like he's breathing through a coffee straw.

A particularly savage punch has Grayson falling to the floor, scraping his hands, elbows, and knees on the rough and suspiciously wet asphalt. Damian growls and digs his nails into the arms of his captor, but they tighten the grip threateningly and his struggles are forced to come to a stop.

Pathetic. Idiotic. Childish. This is Damian's fault. Every blow that hits Grayson's body as punches are replaced by kicks might as well be dealt by Damian himself.

He argues with Grayson. Calls him out on not acting how his father would. He calls him incompetent, insignificant, idiotic... but some time these past few weeks the bite he means to carry with those words have turned fond.

He... He likes Grayson. He's the first person to show Damian unconditional kindness... other than his own mother. While being stuck here with him rather than his own father had, at first, been miserable and annoying... it's turned out to be... fun. For the first time in his life, he almost feels like a normal kid with Grayson here to lead him along the way.

Damian wonders at night if that's what his mother intended. Why she hasn't taken him back yet.

He doesn't mind it. He likes the time that he spends with Grayson now, even if he would never admit it. And here he is, helpless and unarmed as Grayson is being beaten to a bloody pulp all because Damian couldn't listen to instructions and snuck out when he shouldn't have.

For a moment, pure terror fills Damian's veins that he's most likely going to witness the death of Grayson tonight. If he tries to fight his captor, he'll get a bullet in his brain. If Grayson decides to fight back, then Damian would die anyways. Grayson wouldn't do that. He would rather die himself.

Another blow hits Grayson's body, and he lays on the ground and groans, unmoving for a worrying few seconds.

Then, the bar door slams open and the woman from before runs out with fire in her dark eyes. No one has a chance to do anything before she kicks the main guy in the jaw, sending him down to the floor with more force than any woman... or man... should have.

Damian doesn't question it. The rest of them are distracted by her sudden entrance, and Damian uses that to his advantage. He throws his hands up and grabs at his captor's distracted face and claws at his eyes. The man yowls and drops Damian, leaving Damian completely free to make his own attack. He easily disarms him and jumps onto his back, wrapping his own arms around the man's neck and squeezing as tightly as he can.

It's all over in a matter of seconds. The man falls unconscious in Damian's grasp, and the woman finishes taking out the others.

She was in on this whole thing too, Damian realizes as she rushes towards Grayson's still form and grabs his arm.

Grayson blinking slowly at her through already bruising eyes and whispering "Donna..." is all the proof Damian needs to confirm his suspicion.

"I got you, boy wonder," Donna says fondly. She helps him to his feet and wraps his arm firmly around her shoulders, helping him stand. She looks at Damian. "You got a way to get us out of here, squirt? The cops are gonna be on their way any minute."

"What-" Damian starts, then pauses. Shame fills his gut. "What about the mission?"

"It's fine," Grayson says with a pained strain in his voice. "They're low in the chain. Won't be missed in prison. Can't give much away. I'll-" he cuts off to gasp as Donna shifts her hold on him. "I'll just try again later."

Damian nods, but the guilt doesn't leave. He looks away from Grayson and Donna to pull out his phone and request Pennyworth send the Batmobile to their position.

The entire way back to the manor is filled with tense silence, broken only by Grayson's hissed curses and groans as Donna helps give immediate first aid to the worst of the bruises and cuts.

Damian... he messed up. He disobeyed Richard and ruined the mission. This woman, Donna, is a better companion to Grayson than Damian ever was. Or will be. They get along. She's kind. She was trusted enough by Grayson to bring her in on his solo mission, and she clearly trusted him enough to go along with it and let herself be captured.

Grayson will never trust him as much as her. He's... He's fucked it all up. He won't want Damian around anymore. He'll want to send him back to the League, and if his mother and grandfather don't take him then his suit and the name of Robin must surely now be forfeit.

Drake will take back the suit, and Damian will forever be left behind by the man he thought... He hoped...

Sitting by his bedside after assisting Pennyworth in dressing Grayson's wounds... he mulls these thoughts over in his head. Grayson is fast asleep, and Donna has retreated upstairs for a shower and dinner by Pennyworth's insistence.

Then, as he's considering leaving so he's not the first thing Grayson sees when he wakes up, a hand grabs hold onto his.

"Don't blame yourself," Grayson whispers, blinking through his puffed up and exhausted eyes. Damian wonders how long he's been sitting here with his thoughts and when Grayson started to awaken without him noticing. "You have the same look in your eyes... That B always did..."

Heat flairs behind Damian's eyelids. He bursts. "But this is my fault. If I hadn't gone out- if I had listened-"

Suddenly, his hand is jerked, and Damian is dragged onto the cot and into Grayson's arms. He attempts to fight the hold, but Grayson holds tight despite his injuries.

"Mistakes happen," Grayson says, "they always do. I will never give up on you, Dames. No matter how many you make. Trust me on that."

He sounds so very much in pain, but he's relentless in his hold. All Damian can do is stop his struggling and lay in Grayson's grasp. His brain studies the words said to him, and his heart wants to believe him. Guilt pools to his throat and he opens his mouth to let it out before he can stop himself.

"I'm sorry," he chokes. He doesn't know when he started to return the hold Grayson had him in. His hands are bunched in the material of Grayson's shirt.

Grayson shushes him. "It's okay," he says. "What's done is done, and we've learned. We're okay. I got you."

And perhaps it's the moment of weakness, but Damian can't help but believe him.

#damianwayneweek2021 #damian wayne #dick grayson #robin #nightwing #dc comics #jin writes #fanfiction #violence tw #kidnapping tw #held at gunpoint #guns tw #im just in the mood for batman!dick and robin!damian angst this week huh?#hopefully donna being here made sense lmao

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five-rivers · 3 years

Text

Questions (Not Answered)

@amabsis MERRY CHRISTMAS FEATURING CRYTIC DANNY AND HIS SPACE FRECKLES (and one other prompt you sent me, but that one’s a mystery).

Bare feet on ice. Breathe, he reminded himself. He was human, for now, and he wasn’t supposed to be here.

Ice. Thin ice.

He was human, for now, but he didn’t have the weight of it.

In slow motion, he saw the much, much heavier man—Boy, really, he hadn’t graduated that long ago—step out on the ice, brow furrowed. A kind of rage lit him up, a paper lantern that burns itself, like the last time Danny had seen him, a frustration born of not being believed and—

The ice gave way.

It took him a moment to remember to fall.

Beeping. White. It took him a moment to remember and remember he had been human. At least then. At least now. Something like a fever danced over his skin. Pinpricks. A heated blanket. Whiteness he has come to associate with a threat.

He—

This is a hospital.

He breathes. He remembers. He wasn’t supposed to be there, but even less is he supposed to be here.

There will be questions.

It isn’t his fault, he reassures himself. No way he could have been anywhere else, done anything else, except by the actions of others. Not with safety. Not with grace. Not with morals.

He can smell the other person in the room. Their sweat. The fabric softener their suit had been laundered in.

“You should be dead,” said the man. Accused the man.

“Well,” croaked Danny, “clearly not.”

“We didn’t pull you out until after Agent W.”

Couldn’t they use the guy’s real name? Agent W. Too many syllables. Too long to say in the heat of battle, or to keep him from running out and nearly drowning in a half-frozen lake.

“You’re not dead until you’re warm and dead,” said Danny. “Heard it in a documentary. Mom and Dad say it’s why you don’t see too many ghosts who died that way. That and the hallucinations.”

His parents don’t think happy people leave ghosts. They’re wrong. In that and many other things.

He does not look at the man. The line on the heart monitor goes up and down, dead steady. He did not think of the ghosts he left behind him. Of the battle and journey that left him on the ice, surrounded by white.

“I think we both know that isn’t true,” said the man with an edge of a growl. His shadow fell on the edge of the bed. “We’ve had our specialists look into you, you know. With your parents’ blessing.”

Blessing. What a strange way to say permission. Danny has received blessings. True blessings. One is not the same as the other. He remembers them, towering, like storm clouds, like mountains, like the forest, like the moon, the sun, the stars. He remembers the lights overhead, circling, and himself, looking up, beneath it all. He remembers the well, the fountain, the door, the path.

He remembers.

And he has none of that right now. No lightning but what he was born with. No ice but what the doctors chased away, if there were doctors, and not simply more men like the one at his bedside. No knife or poison but the words on his tongue. No shield but his disregard.

Human.

Yes.

“We even ran you through some of our pattern recognition programs. Do you know what we found?”

“Enlighten me,” said Danny, dryly. His voice cracked again, painfully.

His effort was rewarded with a finger shoved harshly against his cheek. He winced at the sharpness of the nail and looked directly at the man for the first time since he woke up. He was reflected twice in the man’s sunglasses, and a third time on the warped silver casing of his overlarge earpiece.

“Your freckles,” said the man.

“What, did your program decide I had skin cancer or something? Forgive me if I decide I want a second opinion.”

“Constellations,” hissed the man. “You have constellations in your freckles. The same as the ghost boy.”

Danny endeavored to raise his eyebrows as far as they could go. “I’m pretty sure that whatever Phantom has on his face aren’t freckles. Freckles don’t glow.”

“Don’t play games with me,” said the man. “We aren’t the only ones who’ve noticed. We aren’t the only ones who’ve put two and two together.”

“To me, it sounds like all you’ve done is give a computer pareidolia, but whatever floats your boat.”

“What is your connection to Phantom?”

“You’ve been listening to Wes,” said Danny. If his voice wasn’t wrecked, his words would have been dripping with disdain thick enough to drown the man. Twice.

“Agent W is not the only one to make note of your behavior,” said the man. “Paulina Sanchez, for example.”

“Paulina,” repeated Danny. “You mean the girl who has used every available opportunity to tear me down and mock me since I asked her out in freshman year? You think she wouldn’t lie to your clown squad?”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s what everyone calls you,” said Danny. “Also, you shouldn’t be interrogating a minor without their guardian present.”

“How convenient, that you know that. Reading up on the legal system?”

“My sister had a Law and Order phase. Speaking of, I want a lawyer.”

“You aren’t under arrest,” clearly disgusted.

“Great. So, can you tell the doctor I’m awake? Thanks.”

“We aren’t done here.”

“I am,” said Danny. He closed his eyes. “If you don’t tell the doctor I’m awake, I might as well go back to sleep.” He faked a yawn. Then yawned for real because yawns were like that.

Then the GIW representative shook him by the shoulders.

He shouldn’t have done that. For a number of reasons. Not the least of which being that if Danny was connected to ghostly happenings, he could most likely kill the man with his bare hands.

This is not what occurred.

Monitors need leads, need sensors. Disconnected, they scream. Much like anything else.

In a hospital, such screaming attracts doctors.

How nice to know that they were in a hospital.

Snow underfoot. Booted foot, incidentally. His parents had brought his boots when they came to pick him up, along with other winter clothes. The snow crunched and squeaked, declining to melt when he stepped on it. Which. Rude.

The trip to the car was silent and sulky. Or possibly accusatory. Or morose. The nuances of the emotions escaped him.

“Danny,” said his mother. “Why were you out on the lake last night?”

Danny had been dreading this. Anticipating it as one would the end of a fall. Except he hadn’t hit the ground yet, only the branch of a tree that had the misfortune to get in the way.

He didn’t have a good answer.

“There was something I had to do,” said Danny. Which was both true and vague.

“In your pajamas?”

Danny winced. That hadn’t been his fault.

“We don’t know why you keep sneaking out,” said his father. “But it has to stop. You can’t do this anymore, Danny-boy. Especially not if it’s going to end up with you in the hospital.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” protested Danny. “It isn’t like I lured Wes out. He went out all by himself!”

“Danny,” said his mother. “You almost died. And now the GIW is telling us that your freckles are in the same pattern as Phantom’s ecto-luminescence!” She visibly worried at her lower lip. “What happened?”

“And what did you go out for?” added his father.

Danny shrugged.

“Were you trying to help Phantom?”

“No,” said Danny.

“We know how you and Jazz feel about him, but, Danny, this is dangerous. That ghost is dangerous.”

Danny looked away.

“You’re grounded,” said his mother.

Danny whipped around to face her again. “What!”

“What else can we do?” asked his mother. “What else do you expect us to do? You won’t tell us anything!”

“It was just—” spluttered Danny. He pressed his lips together, considering. “I did not go out to meet Phantom,” he said. Again, it was true. “I went out because one of my classmates said they were being haunted, and I wanted to help.” Also true.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” asked his father. “It’s our job to deal with ghosts.”

“Yes,” said his mother. “In fact, I thought you wanted nothing to do with ghosts.”

“I don’t know,” said Danny. “Sometimes—” He winced, knowing what he was about to say would hurt. “You aren’t very good at catching ghosts. And the part I want to have nothing to do with is the one where you cut ghosts up into pieces.” He paused. “And I don’t know what happened after I got there.” He did not specify where there was. “I think the GIW had some kind of weapon? I didn’t expect them there. Anyway, there was a bright light, and the next thing I know, I’m out on the water.”

Alright. He was leaving a bunch out, but the rest was still true.

“You’re still grounded.”

He felt heavy. Whatever had kept him from making footprints on the ice had left him entirely. Or reversed itself. Either way, stairs, such as the ones he had to climb to reach his room, felt like an imposition. Nonetheless, he persevered.

Right up until he collapsed on his bed, overcome with the unfairness of it all.

“Hey,” whispered the monster that had taken up residence underneath his bed. “Can I come out, now?”

“You’re clear,” mumbled Danny.

The monster, Phantom, phased up through the bed to lie on it next to Danny.

“Where did they even get the Ghost Catcher?” he asked, aggrieved.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out!” replied Danny. “It doesn’t make any sense, and I can’t very well ask Mom and Dad about it.”

“Ugh. We’re grounded, aren’t we?”

“I am. You aren’t.” Danny pulled a face he hoped his other half would recognize from the outside. “Be careful, though. Your escape route is gone.”

“I will. You need to find out how to get us back together.”

“I will,” said Danny. “By the way, just after it happened, I think I still had access to some ghost powers. I think I’m still a little, you know. Not quite right. It might be the other way around for you.”

“I’ll try and keep an eye on that,” said Phantom. “It might be important.”

“Yeah,” agreed Danny. “You should go, for now. I’m pretty sure Mom and Dad are going to be checking on me all night, and if they see you…”

“Yeah. I get it.”

“Sorry.”

Phantom bumped his head lightly against Danny’s. “Nothing to be sorry about. We both know what they’re like. I’m going to patrol a bit, then I’ll probably go over to Sam or Tucker’s. In case you need me.”

“Sounds good,” said Danny. “I’ll just… stay here. Try to make the Ghost Catcher from scratch.”

“We have homework, too, while you’re at it,” said Phantom, halfway through the wall.

Danny groaned and rolled over. He would have to be careful about getting into the lab while he was grounded, and his parents were on high alert. Perhaps he could convince his sister to cause a distraction?

#danny phantom #christmas truce #christmas truce 2020 #fanfiction #phanfic #hope I'm doing this at the right time (:

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glenncoco4 · 3 years

Text

You Can Count On Me

A/N: Chapter 2

••••

18 years later...

She steps into the gym, immediately sensing something in the air shift. It’s not a bad shift more like a welcomed shift, almost the same feeling whenever she enters a room that he’s in. Taking a quick scan across the room, her eyes land on a familiar mop of golden blonde hair attached to a man who’s pounding away at a punching bag.

Schooling her features, Kensi or “Tracy” strides over to a man that introduces himself as Janklow and begins talking about Danny, how she wanted to come to the place that her boyfriend talked so much about.

Janklow drops his guard just enough, calling the rest of their teammates over to introduce her, including one Marty Deeks, only today his name isn’t Marty and he’s not her best friend. Today he’s Jason Wyler fighting for a spot on an MMA team full of Marines.

••••

The three agents along with the tech operator and psychologist continue to stare at the monitor displayed with men from the gym, trying to figure out each ones possible motive to kill Zuna.

Callen’s brow furrows, his focus solely on the shaggy blonde. “What about Wyler?”

“He’s a bit sketchy.” She sends herself a mental high-five as she pictures her best friend’s reaction at her quip. “But he’s definitely not our guy.”

“He’ doesn’t fit in with the others. What makes you so sure its not him?” Sam questions, turning his attention to the brunette agent.

She shrugs, trying to remain nonchalant. “It’s just a feeling.”

The team leader share a look with his partner. “Or maybe its his baby blues.”

“Or his fluffy hair.” The ex-Navy SEAL finishes.

She huffs a laugh, shaking her head. “Listen, guys, I’m telling you, it’s not him.”

“Tell us, what makes you so sure.” Nate finally interjects, wondering what she saw in the blonde.

She wasn’t sure if she was going to have to out her friend but now she knows she does, there’s no way around it because if she doesn’t her best friend could end up hurt so she takes a deep breath. “Because his name isn’t Jason Wyler, it’s Marty Deeks and he’s an LAPD Detective.”

Callen’s eyes widen in shock. “And you know this because...”

“I was with him when he got his promotion.”

All four men’s brows simultaneously furrow in confusion.

Knowing they’re not going to give up until she gives them a little more, she relents. “He’s my best friend, the person I trust most in the world. He’s not our guy.”

The confidence in which she says it must be enough for the leader because he just shares aa look with his partner before turning back to her, trust written in both their eyes. “Okay.”

••••

Kensi’s just about to open Zuna’s laptop, when the doorknob starts to jiggle. Slowly reaching for the small of her back, where her weapon is secured, she watches as the door slowly opens and is caught off guard for the second time that day.

His cerulean blues widen in surprise when he meets her mismatched chocolate orbs for the second time that day. He really missed her, but that’s besides the point right now. “What the hell are you doing around here?”

“We’re investigating Zuna’s death. What are you doing here?”

“I’m undercover.”

“No shit.”

Before anything else can be said, Callen steps in from the kitchen, joining the two childhood friends.

“Marty this is Special Agent G Callen. Callen this is Detective Marty Deeks.”

The team leader takes the detective’s offered hand in greeting. “So I hear you know Kensi.”

“Yeah, know might be a bit of an understatement.”

Callen watches in awe of his coworker exchanging a smile with the detective. He’s not certain, but something tells him that the two are fighting something that’s inevitable. “Well we don’t want to step in on your investigation but we do need to find out what happened to Zuna.”

“Understandable.”

“Can you tell us what you’re under for?”

Deeks shakes his head, knowing that someone from the gym could and most likely is watching them. “Not here. There’s been a couple guys coming in and out from the gym since I’ve been here. I can probably slip away in a few hours.”

“You got your cell on you?” Kensi questions her friend, already knowing the answer.

“Just a burner.”

Callen nods in understanding. “Okay, give Kens your number and we’ll send you an address.”

“Sure thing.”

••••

She nearly jumps out of her skin when there’s a knock at the window. He’s definitely gonna pay for that later. Rolling down the window, Kensi see’s the confusion on his face.

“A Wendy’s, really?”

“Well, I couldn’t very well send you the address to the boat shed on a burner.”

When the words hit his ears, realization spreads across his face like an excited puppy that just got a new toy. “No!”

“Get in before I leave you here.”

Not having to be told twice, Marty hightails it around the SUV and quickly jumps in the passenger seat, shaking with excitement. “Kens, are you serious?”

Shaking her head, she checks her rear view as she slowly backs out of the parking lot. “I don’t know what your fascination with the boat shed is.”

“Are you kidding? It’s a secret hidey hole on the water, what’s not exciting about it?”

“Oh right, the Aquaman fantasy.”

“Okay, Miss I wanna fall in love on a ship and have sex in an old jalopy.”

She feigns shock and a little bit of outrage. “Hey, I told you that in confidence.”

“Yeah, but it’s slowly becoming my fantasy too so technically it’s okay.” He wiggles his eyebrows at her playfully. “Besides its just us here.”

Something in his demeanor feels a little flirty to her. Is she going crazy? When he flashes her a smile, she feels an unfamiliar surge of excitement run through her body. What the hell is going on?

He notices a look cross her features that he’s never seen before. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just...I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Kens.” Marty feels a sudden sense of contentment as he watches her look back to the road and sees the blush rise to her cheeks. There’s a fluttering in his chest that’s unfamiliar to him. What the hell is happening?

••••

Deeks caught the team up on his op and all that was involved. He explained how Danny hadn’t come home the previous night, something about meeting up with this new girl Tracy. That earned him a famous Kensi trying not to smile, smile, which to be honest is one of his favorite things.

It didn’t go unnoticed by the other two agents in the room at the change in their coworker when she was around the detective. She seemed happier, like she wasn’t carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

The rest of the case goes off without a hitch, NCIS gets their killer and LAPD gets their drug ring bust, but most importantly Marty gets to go home...to his own bed.

••••

There’s a knock at his door, a smile spreading to his lips knowing exactly who it is. He unlocks the deadbolt, twisting the knob and pulls it open. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Agent Blye.”

Kensi steps around him and into his apartment, case of their favorite beer in her hand. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Shaggy Rogers.”

“Oh, touché.”

She sends him a smile over her shoulder and something washes over him. The spark in her mismatched orbs, is something he can’t quite describe. He shakes his head, trying to rid this unfamiliar feeling as she goes to the fridge, depositing the rest of the beer after taking two out.

“Pizza should be here in 30 minutes.”

“You got-“

“Hawaiian, yeah, yeah, but only half.” She shivers with disgust at his preference for toppings as she hands him the bottle.

“I would expect noting less.”

She squints her eyes, stepping up to him almost in a challenge. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Kensi Blye doesn’t eat any fruit unless its covered in chocolate.”

“I-I ate that apple that one time.”

“Only because your mom hadn’t gone to the store for groceries yet.”

She wants to retort but knows he’s right. So she steps around him, walking over to the couch, landing a soft punch to his shoulder on her way. “Just play the damn movie.”

“You’re the boss...KayKay.”

“I will kill you.”

“No, you won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“You’re my best friend and the person I trust most in the world.”

“Clearly you’ve never seen Snapped.”

He shakes his head in disbelief, unable to stop the grin from appearing on his face. He missed this. He missed her and their banter.

A sudden knock on the door draws him out of his trance. “I think maybe you should get it. I don’t really want to have my back turned to you right now.”

“Haha.” She steps over his legs, whacking him with his cat pillow as she heads for the door. When she pulls it open, the last person she’d ever think it would be is standing there, all four foot and nine inches of her. “Hetty?”

“Miss. Blye.”

“Come in.”

Kensi ushers her boss into the apartment, eyes wide as saucers as she locks on with his.

Sending him a hint of a smile, Hetty takes a seat in the chair next to the couch. “Hello, Mr. Deeks.”

“Hello, Ms. Lange.”

“Please, call me Hetty.”

“What can I do for you, Hetty?”

“Actually its more what I can do for you.”

Kensi’s brow furrows along with Marty’s as the OSP manager hands the detective a manila folder.

Opening it he’s a little caught off guard when he sees all his information spread out before him. Everything from his statement from when Donald Blye saved him and his mother all the way to his most recent case. “Wow, Kensi was right. You are a secret ninja lady.”

The brunette feels the heat rise to her cheeks, feeling the scrutiny of her boss’s gaze fall on her.

Shaking her head, a tiny smile curls at the old woman’s lips. “It’s clear to me that you two work quite well together...even better than Mr. Callen and Mr. Hanna.”

“Tell us something we don’t already know.” Marty playfully nudges his best friend, trying to get a smile out of her but is unsuccessful. Instead her features are unreadable. What Hetty’s asking would be a huge deal...monumental. I mean working with his best friend, not going under by himself anymore, working with a team...with her. “Can I think about it?”

Kensi’s eyes find his, trying to figure out which way he’s leaning. She can tell he’s holding back because of her, he doesn’t want to over step. He deserves this, a team and people that will truly watch his back and selfishly she wants to be the one to do it and he do the same for her.

He sees the hopefulness in her eyes and knows the same is mirrored in his own. Getting a nod of approval from his best friend, he turns to his new boss with a smile. “I’m in.”

After he signs the form, Hetty gladly takes the folder back from their new liaison before taking her leave. “Well then as I understand it, you have a major undercover you’re working on and when the time comes you’ll get pulled back in but in the mean time, you’ll be reporting to OSP.”

“Thanks, Hetty.”

“I’ll leave you to it.” She sends them each a smile, showing herself to the door.

Once the door click shut, Kensi turns to her best friend and now partner...he’s her partner. She can’t help the Cheshire Cat like grin on her face. “We’re gonna be partners.”

Unable to stop himself, Marty closes the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her in hug that’s so familiar to them its like second nature. “We’re gonna be partners.”

••••

The following Monday had Kensi leading her best friend, now partner into the OSP Headquarters. She couldn’t help the smile that was tugging at her lips as she watched the shaggy blonde in his awestruck wonder as she showed him around the building.

Their first case together is a high profile missing persons case which results in Kensi being held captive but like always, her partner along with Sam and Callen has her back and they live to see another day.

••••

He’s waiting at the car for his partner when the buzzing from his phone draws his attention. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out the offending object and immediately rolls his eyes as he reads the caller ID. “Bates, what do ya got?”

As his Lieutenant fills him in on what’s going on, Marty’s brow furrows and his body deflates, his eyes catching those of his best friend as she walks towards him with a bright smile on her face. One thing he hates most is having to cancel plans with her.

“Alright, I’ll be there.”

She waits until he hangs up the phone, her eyes meeting his, already knowing that their plans to go to the music festival this weekend are trashed.

“I’m not gonna make it in tomorrow. Bates just called me, undercover op we’ve been working on and I finally got my in.”

A sad smile crosses her face, she knows its not his fault. This is what they signed up for. “The sex-trafficking case?”

“Yeah.”

“When do you leave?”

“Tonight.”

“Okay.”

Her reaction is something he can’t quite describe. He knows what he wants it to be, but he’s just not sure. One thing he knows for sure is that now is not the time to lay it all out on the table. “Kens-“

“You’ll be careful, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She scolds herself for letting her emotions slip, he doesn’t need this right now. He needs to be focused on his mission, but if she can get a little more time with him, she’ll gladly take it. “Do you have time to grab something to eat before you leave?”

He throws his arm around her shoulders, placing a kiss to the top of her head as they turn to walk towards the pier. “Always have time for you.”

There’s something about this goodbye that shifts their entire relationship, what it may be, they’re not sure. One thing is certain though, their lives are even more intertwined than they thought.

#Densi #Densi Fanfic #AU #Kensi Blye #Marty Deeks #Kensi x Deeks #You Can Count On Me #Chapter 2 #NCIS: LA #NCIS: LA Fanfic

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sdktrs12 · 4 years

Text

( Days 1 - 8 ) ( Days 9 - 16 ) ( Day 17 )

Beth lifts her legs up, curling them underneath her as she shimmies down a little deeper into the patio sofa.

She’d sent Kenny out with Jane earlier (Emma was at a sleepover and Danny was with Dean), when she was still trying to recover from her hangover, but a nice long soak in the tub, plus a few ibuprofen, had helped immensely. Once she’d gotten dressed, she’d decided to join them out on the deck, rather than calling them back in.

The days were getting increasingly shorter and cooler, but today was usually warm and she knows these nice days will be few and far between soon.

Beth watches as Jane “tends” to her garden, checking up on plants, talking to them softly as she occasionally brushes her fingertips over a petal or a leaf.

And then Beth freezes as she sees Kenny, phone in hand, hop up on top of the picnic table, and start texting god knows who, and it’s—well it’s disconcerting to say the least and Beth opens her mouth to tell him to sit on the god damn table the right way, but she sees movement out of her peripheral vision, right before Rio plops down onto the sofa next to her.

She barely stops herself from screaming and smacking him, and from the look on his face, she can tell he’s clocked that fact.

“Just once, could you surprise me by actually knocking, or texting, or something?”

“I don’t recall you knockin’ or textin’ when you swung by my place.”

“That was one time.”

“Twice.”

“What? When—”

“You remember, darlin’. I was watchin’ when you climbed in through that window and when I called all you wanted to talk about was hard ons—”

“Okay, first of all, you brought up...” She trails off, glancing over in her kids direction, and even though she knows it's impossible for them to hear, she still lowers her voice to a harsh whisper when she continues, “hard ons. And that was a long time ago.”

They’re sliding into semi-dangerous territory here, talking about that time she broke into his apartment, because it wasn’t long after that...

Well, it’s dangerous.

His eyes are boring into hers, like he can tell exactly what she’s thinking, like he’s thinking about it too and jesus, of course he is, it’s not exactly like a person ever forgets the time they got shot—

“Mr. Rio!” Beth jerks around as Jane comes running up, skidding to a stop in front of Rio and he leans forward, arms dropping down to rest on his knees, hands coming out to help stop her and god, would seeing him like this ever not cause her heart to skip a beat?

“Is Marcus here?” Jane asks, swaying back a little on her feet now that Rio has hold of her and she knows she won’t fall.

“Sorry little one, just me this time, he’s with his ma.” Rio replies, sounding genuinely regretful and Beth wonders, not for the first time, what exactly the arrangement is between him and Rhea.

Jane takes this in stride, a bounce on her tiny feet followed by an “okay.” before she brings her hand up in front of her and Beth lets out a gasp as Jane holds out a frog, like she’s offering up a presentation.

“Jane, where did you get that?” Beth asks, leaning forward, ready to make her drop it.

“It was in the garden.” Jane replies, matter-of-fact, like this is something that Beth should just know, and then she’s turning back to Rio. “Is it true that if you kiss a frog, you turn into a prince?”

“It turns into a prince, not you.” Beth corrects, eyeing the frog warily.

“An what you got in your hand ain’t a frog, it’s a toad.” Rio adds and they both turn to stare at him.

“How do you know?” Jane asks, holding it a little closer to her face and Beth cringes, fingers itching to snatch it away.

“Well, see this lil’ guys feet? Frogs have webbed feet. This one doesn’t. And you feel his skin? Pretty bumpy, yeah? Frogs are smoother.” He points each feature out as he explains and Jane listens intently.

“How do you know so much about frogs?” Beth asks, surprised.

“Marcus is a big fan of amphibians.”

Jane’s head snaps up at that and she looks thoughtful for a second. “Do you want to take this one home to him? You can tell him I wanted him to have it.”

“Jane, I don’t think it’s a good idea to try to keep wild things as pets.” Beth says gently, wondering if there will ever be an animal or creature her daughter doesn’t try to adopt.

“Your mama’s right, you try to cage something wild, it’ll spend its whole life trying to claw its way out.” Rio says, staring pointedly at Beth, who glares back at him.

“I don’t think he has claws.” Jane points out helpfully, fingers gently prodding at it’s feet and Beth shakes her head as her nose wrinkles up “No, baby, it doesn’t. Listen, why don’t you take it back to the garden? It’ll be fine.”

Jane hesitates for a fraction of a second and then she’s off, running back into the yard.

“Go wash your hands when you’re done, please!” Beth calls out, nose wrinkling up again as she thinks of all the disgusting things her daughter has decided to touch today.

Beth glances over at Kenny, who is now sitting on the picnic table bench, still absorbed in his phone, fingers swiping across the screen faster than Beth's have ever moved.

“So, where’s that dumbass husband o’ yours?”

Beth whips her head back around to glare at him and he just grins at her, settling himself back into the cushions of the sofa, one arm coming down to rest along the back.

“Not here.” She replies tersely, crossing her arms over her chest and she can feel the warmth of his skin as he brushes up against her shoulders and she tries to ignore the electric current that courses through her veins with that simple touch.

She refuses to give him any more than that. Definitely isn’t going to tell him that she sent Dean packing this morning, careful but firm in her explanation that she was, and felt, perfectly safe without him now.

He hums a little, and it’s low in the back of his throat and it shouldn’t be something that turns her on but...here she is, shifting in her seat as she presses her thighs together and he huffs out a laugh like he knows exactly what it does to her and she feels herself flush.

“You’re an idiot.” She points out suddenly, feeling irritated and he stills for a moment, caught off guard, and she’s not sure why because she’s definitely made this point before, but then he tips his head back and laughs and it kind of makes her want to punch him but also kiss him.

And with his head tilted back like that, his tattoo is on full display and...god, as much as she implied she hated it with Annie, she actually finds it stupidly attractive, the urge to run her tongue along the wingspan always there in the back of her mind every time she sees him.

He cocks his head to the side as he looks at her and then he’s shifting, leaning into her and Beth momentarily forgets how annoyed she is with him.

“When you gonna let me bend you over again, ma?” He asks, lips brushing against her cheek and Beth shivers and she sees his mouth twitch up and she remembers.

“When you start using the doorbell.” She answers, blinking up at him as she smiles sweetly.

And that earns her another laugh and then Jane is calling out for him, demanding he come play with her and Beth starts to protest, but he stands before she can, grinning down at her before striding out into the yard, nudging Kenny off his phone to join him and Jane in a soccer game and Beth just watches from her seat on the patio, already thinking about the next time.

#Hauntober Prompts #Hauntober #Prompts #writing #fanfiction #ficlet #brio #I have got to stop posting these so late #I'm a mess #we know this

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pftones3482 · 4 years

Text

Flooded

Cross-posted to my AO3 account. Read it here!

TW for mentions of blood and death. Klangst ahoy!

“Keith…Keith, please,” Lance pleaded, gripping at his teammate’s shoulder and tugging him back from the wall. It took more force than he would have liked. “There’s no way out. You know that.”

Keith backed away reluctantly, his chest heaving. His fingers were bloody from dragging against the rocks, his nails split and his hands trembling. His lower lip shook. “We have to keep trying,” he protested. His voice was a whisper, feeble, and it made Lance’s heart twist.

“You’ll just exhaust yourself,” Lance murmured, lifting Keith’s fingers to study them. He tried to ignore the way his heart was pounding in his throat. “We don’t have our helmets, we don’t have our bayards, we don’t have our med-packs.”

“We still have our jet packs,” Keith argued, though he’d gone still while Lance checked over his hands.

“Which won’t do anything in here,” Lance pointed out, looking around the tiny cave with a wrinkle of disgust in his nose. “It’ll just use up our oxygen faster.”

Keith swallowed and shut his eyes as the water lapped around their knees. The trickle of water in the corner seemed mocking – so cheerful and pleasant to listen to, yet the very thing about to cause their deaths. “So what, we just sit here and die?”

“No,” Lance said, dropping Keith’s hand and looking up. “We wait for the team. We know Pidge got our distress call before the Galra took our helmets, and we all know how good she is. We have to trust them to get here in time.”

Keith leaned against the rock, digging his hands into his hair and leaving smears of blood on his forehead. “How are you so calm?” he finally managed. “I thought you’d be panicking.”

Lance let out a bitter laugh and leaned next to Keith, letting their shoulders brush. The water sloshed around their thighs. “I am. I’m panicking so hard, dude, I-” His voice caught and he pressed a hand to his mouth, taking a moment to compose himself. “This is the one way I never wanted to die.”

Keith wrapped his arms around himself. His fingers brushed Lance’s arm absentmindedly. “Thought you said we weren’t gonna die.”

“We’re not,” Lance said firmly. “But you know…just don’t want to die by drowning.”

Keith huffed a laugh, humorless. “Funny. The death I don’t want the most is burning.”

“Why is that funny?”

“Our lions?” Keith said with a raised eyebrow.

Lance processed that for a second and then chuckled, shaking his head. He tried not to look down, the water passing his hips now. He stared at the ceiling instead, counting the rocks. “Where’s your favorite place on Earth?”

Keith didn’t question the sudden inquiry, just hummed under his breath. “Sharon’s Bar, downtown from the Garrison.” At Lance’s baffled look, he gave a small smile and shrugged, the hint of a blush on his cheeks. “Lot of good stuff happened there. Shiro took me there after my first successful flight simulator, when I finally signed the paperwork to be released from foster care, had my first date there, so it’s technically where I socially came out…it’s always been there.”

He pressed his lips together, looked sideways at Lance. “You?”

Lance let his arms drop, wincing as his hands submerged in the water. He reached out, found Keith’s hand, and took it. Twined their fingers together when Keith didn’t say anything. Breathed a little easier as Keith’s thumb started caressing his skin. “My kitchen, back in Cuba. The view, looking over the ocean, the food, Sunday dinners with my family, especially after my brothers and sisters left for school or to have their own families…they always come back for Sunday dinner.”

The water reached their chests, and Lance shivered, shutting his eyes. “Who was your first crush?”

“Danny Phantom,” Keith said immediately, and Lance barked out a genuine laugh. Keith’s smile was embarrassed when he looked at him. “What? You didn’t say a real person.”

“Well in that case, Aladdin and Jasmine,” Lance snorted. “Aladdin was the character that made me realize I liked boys, too.”

“You just liked him because he was shirtless for like half the movie.”

“He had a vest!”

Keith snickered, tugged Lance closer so that they were pressed against each other’s sides. He wrapped an arm around his hip. The water smacked their chins. The trickling sound was long gone, having been submerged somewhere around their waists. “Aside from Blue, which lion is your favorite?” he asked, lifting his chin as the water rose.

They kicked off the ground at the same time, floating to the surface and clinging to each other. The top of the cave was about six feet over their heads.

“Red,” Lance said immediately.

Keith lifted an eyebrow at him, and Lance gave a strained smile. “She’s the fastest. Plus she’s a total Mama bear. You?”

“Blue, actually,” Keith admitted. He kicked a little to keep afloat. His arm tightened on Lance’s hip. “She seems really chill.”

“Keith Kogane, was that a pun?”

“Not an intentional one.”

Lance laughed, but when he looked up, Keith could see the tears in his eyes. His own started watering at the sight, and he took a shaky breath, looking up at the ceiling. He could reach up and touch it now, if he wanted. “They’re not coming,” he murmured.

“We don’t know that,” Lance whispered, though his words were choked.

“Lance.”

“Keith.”

Keith looked at him, crying, lifted a hand up to press it to the ceiling. He swallowed. His heartbeat flooded his ears. “I love you,” he said, and his throat felt thick. “I’ve loved you for a long time.”

Lance’s laugh was watery, and his own hand lifted to press against Keith’s. Their heads brushed the top of the cave. “Way to admit it to me now, asshole.”

His hand left Keith’s hip, gripped him by the front of his suit, and pulled him in. His lips were salty, from the tears or the water around them, Keith wasn’t sure. Maybe both. Definitely both. He gasped, let go of the ceiling, and slid his hand along Lance’s jaw.

“Ready?” Lance whispered, pulling back. His eyes were bright.

Keith pressed one last kiss to his lips, another to his cheek. “Ready.”

They took a deep breath, wrapped their arms around each other, and held on tightly as the water closed in over their heads.

#klance #klangst #my writing #drowning tw #blood tw #ambiguous ending #:)

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darks-ink · 5 years

Note

Okay here's a drabble suggestion for your consideration: I adore reveal fics, so would could you do with "reveal" and "snow"? Bonus points if it's silly

Okay so I will admit that this didn’t come out as silly as I had intended? It’s kinda tough to write a reveal from the POV of the people finding out without referring to how messed up that whole thing is.

---

Maddie laughed as asnowball whizzed past her head. Her fingers, protected by the thickmaterial of her jumpsuit, dug through the snow to make one of herown.

“He’s gotten good atthis!” her husband exclaimed, cheerily. “It’s like he’s got anever-ending hoard over there!”

“We’ll get him,” shetold him, voice determined. “Sooner or later he’ll run out, andwe outnumber him.”

Another snowball flew bythem as she finished hers. Spotting the perfect opportunity, shestood up from behind her barrier, winding back her arm.

As the projectile left herhand, another hit her in the face, however. She stumbled back,crouching behind her protection again.

“Missed me!” Dannytaunted from the other side of the fight.

She grumbled, duckinglower to scrape together more snow. “We need a better plan.”

Jack hummed anacknowledgment, eyes darting around the clearing they were in. Thenhis eyes lit up. “I’ve got an idea! Cover me!”

“Cover you? Jack,what--”

He darted away before shecould finished her sentence. Cursing, she balled her handful of snow.It wasn’t a great snowball, but it would do its job.

Maddie waited until shesaw Danny pop up, then lobbed the haphazard snowball at him. Itmust’ve caught him off-guard, because he startled and dropped hisown.

Danny swore, turningaround and starting to duck behind his own cover. Looking for Jack,if she had to guess. She couldn’t give him the chance.

Quickly she scooped upmore snow. She might not know what Jack had thought of, but his planswere always brilliant, if unconventional. If he wanted her to keepDanny distracted, she would.

The two of them kept it upfor a little while, exchanging snowballs. Behind Danny, she could seeJack stealthily moving around. Or, well, as stealthy as he could get,since he was wearing bright orange as usual. To keep him out ofDanny’s sight, and to distract her son even further, she startedmoving as well. Slowly, but surely, they were cornering him, and hedidn’t even know.

She saw Jack scrapetogether a huge heaping of snow, and threw one last snowball to keepDanny distracted just a moment longer. They had gotten veryclose by now; Jack was almost directly behind their son.

Crouching low, she watchedJack dump the armful of snow onto Danny. She was expecting a jubilantcheer, an exclamation of excitement.

Instead she heard a yelpfrom Danny – not entirely unexpected – and a matching noise fromher husband.

Spurred into action, shecovered the last of the distance between her and Danny in a fewsteps, jumping over the snowy barrier he’d formed.

Behind it, she found herhusband staring wide-eyed at their son, expression twisted intosomething weird. And Danny… Danny was covered in the snow Jack hadjust dumped onto him, his hair so extensively covered with snowflakesthat it looked white, an undersized snowball in his hand.

Danny’s eyes darted fromJack to her, and she froze at the sight of them. They looked… odd,somehow. They were still that blue she loved so much, but somethingabout them felt… weird. Too cold, too icy… It made his entireface look just slightly off.

“Uh…” Danny said,eventually. His fingers twitched around the snowball, and sheimmediately zeroed in on his bare fingers, tinged slightly blue withcold.

“Young man!” shesnapped at him, racing over to knock the snow out of his hand. “Whatdo you think you’re doing? Why aren’t you wearing gloves?!”

“I’m-- I didn’t likethem?” he tried, feebly, as he attempted to wrench his wrist out ofher grip again. “It’s not that cold!”

She shot him adisbelieving look. “Your fingers are turning blue, Danny. We’regoing home to warm you up right now. Get in the RV.”

“But-- But--” Helooked over at Jack, as if expecting the man to talk her out of this.Quite frankly, she wasn’t sure why he hadn’t interfered sooner,but he definitely wouldn’t side with Danny on this.

Realizing the same, Dannysighed and slumped, then nodded at her. “Alright, fine.”

Confident that she’dconvinced him, she let him go. She watched him move to the RV for amoment, then stepped closer to Jack. Seeing that his expressionhadn’t changed, she wrapped her hand around his limp one, leaningagainst him.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

Jack heaved out a sigh,looking tired and weary. “Mads… I saw--” He shook his head. “Idon’t know what I saw.”

“Something about Danny?”

“No. Well, yes.” Jackmade a face. “His eyes… didn’t you see?”

She thought back. Sure,they had looked a little weird, but that was just the lighting.Right? “Well, they looked a little icy, but--”

“They were glowing,”he interrupted her, staring into the direction that Danny had gone.“I saw, Maddie. They were glowing blue, like a ghost.”

“Our son isn’t aghost, Jack,” she said sternly. “We’ve gone over this before.Just because they’re acting a little strange doesn’t mean thatthey’ve been replaced.”

“I never said he wasreplaced.” Finally he turned to look at her, looking haunted. “It’sDanny. I’m sure of it, Mads. But I’m also sure of what I saw.”

She met his eyes, pressingagainst him a little closer. “Jack, honey, all sorts of thingscould’ve made it look like his eyes were glowing. You know snowmakes things look a little strange.”

“But that wasn’t all Isaw,” he said, and she felt her world grind to a halt at his heavytone.

“What else did you see?”she asked him, almost before he’d finished his own sentence.

Jack heaved out anothersigh, dragging his eyes back towards Danny. “The snowballs, Mads.Didn’t I say, just before this, that it seemed like he had anever-ending supply of them?”

“Yes, but I don’t seehow it’s relevant.”

“He was making them,Maddie.” After a long pause, he seemed to realize that she didn’tsee anything strange about this, because he added, “Making themfully-formed, I mean. Created the snow right in his bare hands.”

“Oh,” she said,thinking back of how none of the snow around Danny had beendisturbed, despite how much snow he must’ve thrown at her. Abouthow he hadn’t noticed how cold it was, about how his fingers hadgone blue with cold without him ever noticing.

He “didn’t like” hisgloves. Because they would make it harder to form snow, probably.Maybe they were too warm, even, but then why didn’t the coat botherhim?

“Oh,” she said again,turning her eyes from Jack to the RV in the distance. Danny stoodnext to it, clearly staring at them, hands in his pockets. Must begetting impatient.

“How long? How long hasour son been a ghost? How have we never noticed?”

Jack shrugged, listlessly,also looking at Danny. “Must’ve been forever. Remember the GhostFinder, back when he started high school? It picked up on him, I’msure.”

“And the Ghost Gabber…”Her eyes widened as realization struck. “All those times ourinventions malfunctioned over the years… God, Jack, he’s been--all this time?”

“No wonder his gradesdropped. He got worse at focusing, at behaving well. But he stilltries so hard…” Jack sniffled. “He’s fighting his nature,just for…”

“For us,” she finishedfor him. “Even though we’ve been telling him all this times howmuch we hate ghosts, how we want to tear them apart and experiment onthem. How they’re good for nothing, and disgusting, and… And hestill fought back his ghostly instincts, just to stay?

“But what could’vehappened to him?” she asked, trying to sort through her memories.“It must’ve happened sometime between middle school and highschool, but what--”

“The Portal,” Jacksaid, grimly. “We finished the Portal, but it didn’t work. Thenhe had an accident with it, and then it worked.”

“Oh God.” Sheshivered, entirely unrelated to the cold. “God, Jack.”

“I know.” He wrappedan arm around her shoulders, rubbing her arm comfortingly. “I know,Mads. I can’t believe it, but…”

“It makes so muchsense.” She leaned against him. “But if it happened with thePortal. God, Sam and Tucker must’ve seen. And Jazz has toknow, too. Remember when she started being so smothering towards him,so caring, all of a sudden? And insisted we were wrong about ghosts?”

He hummed. “And no onetold us. Because… because they were scared of how we would react.Because they thought we hate ghosts more than we love our family.”

“I know.” She wisheddearly she didn’t. “God, Jack, I know.”

“Man…” He huffed,then pulled his arm away from her shoulders to wipe over his faceinstead. “This snowball fight really went downhill, huh?”

She laughed, the soundfragile and thick with unshed tears. “A real Pyrrhic victory.”

“Well, let’s go makeit into something better.” He straightened himself up, eyes stillon their son in the distance. “Let’s make sure he knows how muchwe love him.”

“Yeah,” she said,looking at Danny too. The boy still hadn’t wiped the snow from hishair, the strands looking entirely white from this far. He looked…very familiar like this. “Hey, wait.”

“Hm?” Jack paused,turning to look at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Look at him,” sheinsisted, stepping up next to him. “With the snow in his hair,doesn’t that remind you of someone?”

Jack looked, and she couldsee, clear as day, when he realized too. “I’ll be damned.”

“All this time,” sheagreed, looking at Danny as well. “All this time he’s been aghost hunter too.”

He laughed, hesitantly buthopeful. “God, and he doesn’t even know how proud we are of him.”

“Well.” She steppedforward, dragging Jack along. “Let’s go make sure he knows.”

#danny phantom #prompt fill #maddie fenton #jack fenton #danny fenton #dark writes #i usually wait a day or so before checking it for spelling but i wanted to get this up so...#also the pacing feels kinda weird to me tbh i guess i really am rusty rip #Anonymous

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

BTHB: Grabbed by the Hair

New @badthingshappenbingo piece: @special-spicy-chicken requested: Bthb grabbed by the hair for Nate?

Grabbed by the hair for Nate it is! Remember, bloodstain = requested, puppy sticker = fulfilled. Feel free to request off the bingo card or just, you know, anything - I’ve had requests for “please for the love of god let them be happy for six minutes”, “dog kennel/cage for Danny”, and my favorite ask so far “just please more Ashley please”.

Timeline: More than a year into Nate’s initial captivity with the Denners

CW: Knives, blood, forced shaving, manhandling, restraints, and some serious noncon-dubcon kissing and, uh, a bit more than that. Call it rated R? You have been warned/welcomed/disclaimed.

Tagging @bleeding-demon-teeth and @spiffythespook!

“I really don’t see why I h-have to do this,” Nate says, testing the leather buckled tightly around his wrists, subtly pulling to see if there’s any give. There isn’t, but he didn’t really expect there to be. Instead, the leather digs hard into his forearms and only seems to tighten with every hint of struggle, forced back and behind him, the inside of his elbows digging into the chair. He had to push himself against the wooden back, posture uncomfortably straight, just keep from aching. “I am perfectly capable of sh-sh-shaving myself.”

Shit, where the fuck did the stutter come from? He can’t even remember exactly when it started, a few weeks, maybe a couple of months ago. Like some connection between his brain and his mouth had gotten interrupted, living here, wires crossed. Breathing their air, cooking their food, sleeping with Bram, lost in his eyes every single time and it felt like it took longer and longer to come back, after.

Something had been snapped, inside of him, and he struggles now to speak where it had always, always been effortless before.

But he tries not to think about before. Bram always says it only makes things harder to try and remember a life before him. It’s easier if he doesn’t remember how proud he was to get his first teaching job, the time he’d spent putting together plans for that very first semester… just easier to live like he never did anything but wait around to be chosen, to be found.

(what kind of life did you live before me? no life at all, baby, so just forget it)

It’s just easier, to think of it that way - and still, in the back of his mind, Nate wonders if he can ever teach again. If Bram would let him, maybe, if he promised he’d come back home every day…

Don’t do this - this isn’t your fucking home. Don’t start thinking of it as home.

“I need the practice,” Ashley says with a shrug. She’s been back from a hunt for a few hours and she’s lit up from the inside out like she’s walked out of a lightning strike, wearing tiny black pajama shorts and a black tank top that does nothing to disguise the scratches she’s covered with, wounds from someone trying to defend themselves right to the end. They’re littered across her shoulders and neck, one thin mark up the side of her face. Her hair hangs lank and unwashed, totally unlike Bram’s shimmering waves of white-blonde, but predator snaps and cracks around her in the air, the deepest base-instinct part of Nate’s brain begging him to find some way to run.

When she leans over to look at him, the hairs stand up on his arms and the back of his neck. His hackles go up, around Ashley, and Nate hadn’t even realized people had hackles like this before her. He’d never been such a slave to his instincts before, to what he used to disparagingly call his ‘reptile brain’.

Reptile brain - primate brain, all the long millions of years of ancestors and evolution - begged him to do something, anything, to get himself out of this.

“Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I gave a man a good shave?” She sighs, mournfully, and her eyes are so like Bram’s but where things shift and move beneath the ice-blue surface in his, Ashley’s eyes are flat. Featureless. Empty.

If Bram’s eyes are a lake with monsters lurking just beneath, Ashley’s are a glacial desert where all the life has long since been desiccated and blown away in the wind. There might be bones inside Ashley, but nothing more.

“In general, or wh-where he survived the shave?” Nate is proud of the sarcastic note in his voice, his refusal to let his nervousness infect it. He settles himself back into the kitchen chair they’ve moved into the upstairs bathroom, eyeing the items laid out on the sink. It’d be a little reassuring if his ankles hadn’t been tied to the chair legs, at least, but no… he’s pretty thoroughly strapped down at this point, and he trusts Ashley Denner with a straight razor about as far as he can kick her.

Not that he technically wants to be anywhere near her, but with the two of them, he doesn’t get much of a choice.

Ashley snorts. “Oh, they rarely survived it. But they could have, if I had wanted them to. I just…” She waves one hand carelessly in the air, and Nate tries not to watch her fingers move. There’s always blood under her fingernails and ground into her knuckles, like a farmer’s hands caked in ancient dirt. “You know how it is.”

“No,” Nate says evenly. “I d-don’t.”

“You will,” She replies, a hint of irritation in her voice - but it’s a resigned, affectionate irritation, and he watches her eyes move to Bram, the indulgent smile on her face. “According to my brother, if he ever gets off his ass to dedicate you.”

“Not ready yet,” Bram says from behind him. “You know if they’re not ready, it doesn’t work.”

“Like me,” Ashley says, thinking, one bony narrow hip jutting to the side. There’s a flash of pale stomach were her tank top rides up, just a little, and Nate swallows back disgust at the deep fingernail scratches there, too - slowly closing up. By tomorrow morning they’ll be gone. “I wasn’t ready, and it didn’t work all the way.”

“Not like you, Ash. You were still ready. It still worked. Just… well. You came out of it just fine, right?”

“Did I?” Ashley’s eyes go down to Nate’s. There’s a flash of a smile, bright and shining, just like Bram’s smile but entirely devoid of the warmth, the affection, the love he gives. “Did I come out all right, d’you think, Nate?”

Nate doesn’t flinch away from her. Never flinch, they hate it when you pull away from them. Instead, he raises one eyebrow very slowly. It’s a skill he practiced over and over in the mirror, once upon a time. “That r-remains to be seen,” He says, and his voice is low and deep and perfectly even. It gives absolutely nothing away

Ashley’s smile widens, something dangerous and murderous there, and she spins to pick up the straight razor and leather strop. Nate lets out a breath of air all at once, telling himself he won this round.

“Ssshhhh, you’re okay,” Bram murmurs behind him, sitting on the edge of the old claw-footed tub. He’s perched there like some malevolent fucking pigeon in his own loose pants and shirt, feet resting on the spindle on the back of Nate’s chair, just below his hands.

Ashley and Bram might be dressed, but Nate has to be naked for the whole goddamn experience, apparently. Which he absolutely does not appreciate, especially not because when he looks up he can see himself in the mirror, the thinner face and shadows under his eyes, the bruises across his neck and body, bandages where Bram cuts him every fucking night.

If only he didn’t get so lost in Bram, lost enough to like it, he might be less ashamed of them.

“I know I’m okay,” Nate says softly, turning his head a little to catch the flash of clean, shining wavy hair behind him, the hint of Bram’s black shirt and pants, the curve of a shoulder. It’s all blurred in his peripheral vision, but still, he can see it well enough.

Bram’s presence is a constant cold along his back, the knowledge that he will melt away and fade, sooner or later, like he always, always does. But Nate turns his eyes back to Ashley, for now, and his mind stays clear.

Ashley slides the blade of the razor back and forth on the strip of leather, humming tunelessly to herself, and Nate finds his eyes caught on a particularly deep scratch that runs up her left arm, nearly from elbow to shoulder. “Wh-why did you l-let yourself get hurt like that?” He asks, and she pauses in her movements, a slow smile on her wide lips, nostalgic and starry-eyed when she turns to look back at him.

Schlip. Schlip. Schlip. The razor picks its rhythm back up, the sharp blade that will soon be at his cheeks, his chin, his neck.

“Because I was bored,” She replies, simply. “And starving. I let him think he had a chance, for a while. I like to play.” She sighs, dreamily, and Nate thinks of one of his students sitting in his office one day, sighing like that about one of the books he’d been teaching, thinking the hero was so romantic, and misunderstood, and Nate had thought to himself, Percy Shelley would have loved you. Briefly.

“When I’m done, I want him to cook me a steak,” Ashley says not to Nate himself but to Bram behind him. Schlip, schlip, schlip, goes the slow and steady rhythm of the razor on the strop. Nate tries not to listen, but feels something in him relax in relief - if she wants him to cook her a steak, she’s not going to kill him.

Not today.

“Mmmmn, when you’re done I need about forty-five minutes with him first,” Bram retorts, and Nate’s heart drops to his stomach, his eyes lowering to the tile floor. He’s scrubbed this grout for hours to get it clean after years of their mostly-benign neglect. “Then he’ll cook you a steak. He’ll be bloody, though.”

Ashley is silent, but Nate doesn’t look up, not this time.

“I like it bloody,” She says, finally. “I always like it bloody.”

“Mine,” Bram warns her, and one cold hand slides over Nate’s shoulder and down over his collarbone, fingertips skimming the line of the bone under his skin. His voice goes low and serious. Wolves fighting over an elk leg. “Not yours. He’s mine.”

“I meant the steak, of course, you jealous baby,” Ashley says with an affectionate sneer, and puts the straight razor down for the moment. She turns on the sink, and with a low gurgle of ancient pipes, the water starts to run in a constant, reassuring rush of sound as they wait for it to warm.

The main bathroom in this old house is halfway between the two largest bedrooms, right in the center of the hallway, just next to the staircase down to the first floor. Nate keeps it as clean as he can - Bram and Ashley don’t clean for themselves, and Nate had at first promised himself he wouldn’t turn into some kind of fucking servant, but that had lasted until he couldn’t take their squalor any longer.

Now it was all clean, which at least was reassuring, since he was pretty certain he wouldn’t die of an infection, even if he died of whatever they did when Bram lost this weird delusion he had that they were in some kind of relationship.

“Now, Nate,” Bram says in a voice that’s not quite a purr, right into his ear so he jumps at the sudden loudness of the sound. How does he move so fucking silently? “Ashley is going to give you a shave, with a straight razor. They used to do this way back-"

“I know,” Nate cuts in, his voice slightly softer for Bram than it is for Ashley. When Bram’s fingers graze the back of his neck and slide up into the back of his black hair, he swallows against the little shiver of pleasure down his spine, the faintest curl of warmth. Bram knows him by now, every inch of him, knows exactly where to touch and when and how much. “I know h-how shaving worked. I t-t-taught fucking 18th and 19th century lit, Bram. Historical context is k-kind of important. Everyone’s s-seen old-style shaving now, anyway, in Sweeney Todd or s-something.”

There’s a pause, and the arm over his chest tightens. Ashley shrugs, carelessly, her eyes on Bram behind him, and Nate finds himself laughing a little. The sound is a low, warm rumble pulled out of him against his will, and next to his ear he hears Bram hum a little in appreciation at the sound.

Nate doesn’t laugh very often, here. Not when his mind is still his own. When his mind is Bram’s, and he stops fighting the pull, sometimes he laughs all the time in the dark.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know what Sweeney Todd is.”

Ashley frowns, turning back to the array of tools laid out on the sink, her back to him. There’s a scratch along one shoulder blade, a couple of bruises. They’ll heal up over the course of a day and be gone. Nate has seen it happen, over and over and over again. Small wounds simply disappear, like they never happened. But deeper wounds stick - Ashley came home with a bullet in her shoulder weeks ago and she’s still healing from that - and there’s something there he can use, if he can only figure it out.

“We don’t do a lot of popular entertainment,” Bram says, fingernails scratching gently into his scalp, soothing and pleasant. “Maybe you can take me out sometime, Nate. I’ll see a show with you.”

Nate goes still, mind working, and Ashley laughs at him. “Oh, don’t look so hopeful. You’d be lost the whole time. He’s not stupid. Now let’s get that shit off your face.” Her eyes, identical to Bram’s but somehow totally different at the same time, flick up to meet her brother’s just behind his head.

“I like him better clean-shaven,” Bram says, his voice low and sweet and Nate finds himself curling his fingers until his hands are fists, cuffed together behind the back of the chair. “Always have. I think he’s been refusing to shave just to bother me.”

“Honestly, Brammie, just make him.” Ashley flashes a sharp-toothed smile, turning to the sink to pick up a washcloth as steam began to show from the water running from the faucet, finally hot. She stuck her hand right under the flow of water, letting the washcloth soak it up. That was another thing Nate had noticed, and didn’t know if he could use - they didn’t seem to feel heat very easily, either of them. Dead nerves, maybe? He’s been here for a year or so, trying to figure them out, trying to decide how to escape, and slowly beginning to wonder if there would ever be a chance for that. “He’s yours, right? Just look him in the eye and tell him to shave.”

“Hm, tried that.” Bram’s arm tightens a little around his chest, almost defensively. “He’s not so good with dexterity when he’s like that. Cut himself pretty badly.”

“Oh.” Ashley pauses, chewing on her bottom lip in confusion, then brightens. “Oh! I remember that. I thought you did that to him. You know, like…” She gestures at the bandage across Nate’s shoulder, the newest one from last night.

(listen to you… you like that, huh?)

Nate turned his head to the side, trying not to feel the way his face reddened at the reminder.

(every second of the life you lived without me was a waste of your potential, darling, we’re going to make something special out of you)

“Sadly, no. You know I don’t want to fuck up my darling’s face, Ash. Come on, let’s get him shaven. You’re the one who said you wanted to do this. I’m the one letting you. So let’s get it done.”

Ashley grins like light glinting dully off a rusty, bloody blade. Nate holds perfectly still for her, letting her rub the hot washcloth over his chin, his jaw, up over his cheeks and down his neck. The cool air kisses the wet skin afterward, making him shiver, goosebumps rising up his arms.

Bram’s arm around him tightens, and the grip on his hair slowly pulls his head back and back and back, until he can see Bram looming over him, the gentle sweetness of his smile as he leans down to slowly kiss Nate’s forehead, lingering there for just a moment.

Nate closes his eyes before he can look right at Bram’s.

He needs to be in his right mind for this, but he couldn’t have said why. Being in his right mind never did him any good.

Ashley takes a small boar’s hair brush with a knobbed wooden handle that fit perfectly in the palm of her hand, the end somewhat pale with what Nate was beginning to think might be centuries of use. She holds that under the hot water, too, taking up her humming again.

“The solitary bird of night,” Ashley sang, in a cracked soprano, vibrato trilling in her throat like an actress from the 1950’s. “Through the thick shades now wings his flight…”

She dips the brush into a small bowl, swirling it around. Nate keeps his eyes closed, listening to the clink of the brush against the side of the bowl. He could picture it, because he’d tried shaving the old-fashioned way a time or two himself (with a safety razor, because he wasn’t a murderous psychopath), the way the soap lathers up in a rush of whitish liquid and tiny bubbles. The scent of something clean drifts his way.

“Brammie, will you do the honors?” Ashley asks as she turns back around.

Bram’s grip on his hair tightens even more and he’s bent over the wooden back of the chair, the back of his neck digging hard into the old, worn-smooth wood. His back arches as his throat is fully exposed to her, and Nate holds back a nervous whine, just barely swallowing it back.

The only sound he makes is a gasp.

“Hold still for my Ashley, okay, sweetness?” Bram presses a kiss to the side of his forehead again, as Ashley leans over him.

Too close, the predator is too close, the prey instinct in him is screaming. Run, you have to run, the predator is too close.

His hands yank hard at the leather cuffs again, he’s breathing in audible panting gasps, his heart pounding in his chest in a sudden burst of fear. Ashley smiles at him, leaning over and steadying herself with a hand on his leg, thumb digging hard into the flat space just inside his hip, ice-cold palm settling over his thigh.

Run. Fucking run. These are the wolves and you are the wounded deer. Run.

He can’t run. He’s tied to a chair in a bathroom in a home he woke up in one day with no idea where he is. He’s being held by a brother and sister who seem to bristle and brighten at his fear, who look at him with pinprick pupils, whose eyes will drag him down into the darkness with them.

She lathers his neck and face with the little brush, and Nate clenches his eyes shut, trying to keep breathing through his nose, while Bram’s grip in his hair just grows tighter and tighter. She won’t kill me, he won’t let her kill me was a comforting thought but it wasn’t like it didn’t mean she couldn’t hurt him. God knew Bram hurt him all the time…

But usually Bram wanted him to enjoy it, and he is not being forced to enjoy this.

“He’s so scared already,” Ashley whispers playfully, bopping the end of his nose with the lathered brush, leaving a dollop of the white soap there. “I haven’t even started shaving yet. Hey, little man, what makes you so scared of me?”

Nate doesn’t answer her - there’s a retort in his mind, some kind of witty reply, but the connection between brain and mouth has been totally severed by the panic pumping adrenaline-soaked blood through his veins.

He doesn’t see her pick up the razor, but he flinches hard at the first pass of the cold blade, gentle as a whisker's brush from a cat, along his cheek, pulling his head to the side.

Ashley hisses. “Bad,” She snaps. “Hold still for me or this is going to get fucking bloody. Brammie, he knows the rules.”

Never flinch. Never pull away. Never flinch away from Bram or Ashley. Never pull away

Don’t flinch don’t flinch don’t flinch

“S-sorry,” He gasps out, as her thumbnail digs hard into his hipbone, a subtle, small flash of pain. A reminder. “Sorry, I f-f-flinched, g-g-give me a sec, I just, give me a s-second-”

“Sshhhh, I’ll allow it this time,” Bram murmurs, loving and sweet. His head aches where Bram is holding him but his fingers are so twisted into the thick black hair that Nate can’t possibly hope to pull himself free. “Breathe, baby. Breathe. There you go. Take it slow... slow and deep.”

"That’s what Nate said,” Ashley says gleefully, and she laughs, the shattered-glass sound, a broken echo of her brother.

“I really regret letting you watch that show,” Bram says, but there’s humor in his voice. “You’ve never stopped doing that since.”

“Oh, like you let me do anything,” Ashley snorts. “I do what I want. Now hold your fucking Prince Charming still or I’m gonna cut the shit out of him.”

“Will you hold still for my Ashley, now, Nate? Please, baby? Be good for me.” Bram coos the words more than says them, and Nate manages a silent, terse nod, letting Bram bend his head back again.

“I-I’ll be good,” He whispers, barely moving his mouth, words for Bram alone. “I can b-be good for you."

Bram hums, low in his throat. “I love you so much, baby,” He whispers just as the straight razor touches Nate’s cheek again. This time he holds still, he’s as still as a statue, as still as the bloody Jesus in the church when he was a child and his grandparents were still alive. Still as the saints at their weekly mass. Still as the God who never answered his prayers when he made them, and who seemed horribly dead and blind to him now.

Nate holds himself as still as the grave that waited, somewhere, for Bram to get bored of him.

Ashley lets the weight of the razor do most of the work, a gentle shave he can really barely feel, the blade only just touching his skin enough to shave off the stubble he had been stubbornly growing. His breathing starts, slowly, to calm.

Both cheeks, across his chin, just above his upper lip. Her movements are quick and expert, gentle as a lamb. The blade isn’t a cut, it’s a kiss.

Down his neck, and he tenses again, but his body is tired of trying to throw adrenaline at the problem and it’s easier to keep still this time. He focuses on the pull of Bram’s fingers in his hair, on the cold arm across his chest, on the thumb still digging hard into his hip.

Being naked felt vulnerable. Baring his throat to a fucking animal wearing a woman’s face feels worse.

She lathers him up again, takes another pass with the razor, slower this time. Taking her sweet, sweet time. And the longer it goes on, the more his heartbeat slows, the stronger he feels. Not so bad. It’s not so bad. She’s not hurting him, beyond the bruise he thinks will be on his hip in the morning from the pressure of her thumb.

Bram won’t let her hurt him, as long as he’s good. As long as Bram still loves him, he will get to stay alive.

Have to be good.

Stay alive.

Finally she steps back to grab the washcloth, washing the remaining bits of lather off his face and the end of his nose, surveying her work. “What d’you think, Brammie?”

Bram lets go of his hair and Nate gasps in relief, letting his head fall back forward. The arm is removed from his chest and Bram slips off the edge of the tub and comes around in front of him, the siblings standing side by side.

So alike, and totally different.

They cross their arms in front of themselves, and Nate fights back a hint of hysterical laughter at the image, looking at them from beneath the sweep of his hair, his chin still slightly tucked. Bram sighs and leans down, taking him by the chin and lifting it hard so he’s forced to look up.

Nate closes his eyes immediately.

He wants to stay here, as long as he can, in this place where he has his own mind.

“I think you did a great job,” Bram says after turning his face side to side, looking him over. “Didn’t miss a spot. You’ve always been so good at this, haven’t you?”

“I like razors.” Ashley shrugs and turns back to the sink. “Something wickedly sharp, right up against the blood under the skin. What’s not to like? I need to clean all of this. Take your boy and go.” She turns to look back at them, and catches Nate’s eyes. Something mocking is in her smile. “I’ll give you an hour, I’m a generous woman and I’ve decided to take a bath. Then I want my goddamn steak.”

“An hour it is.” Bram drops into a crouch, undoing the ropes that tie Nate’s ankles to the chair legs with quick movements born from long experience. Nate could kick him in the face like this, he thinks, but it wouldn’t do him any good and he doesn’t dare.

When he pulls Nate to his feet, he stumbles a little, but there’s an arm around him and a kiss to his damp neck, and Nate tilts his head back for it, swallowing hard against the curl of disgust and something darker deep inside him.

“She did a god job,” Bram whispers into his jaw, and Nate shudders. “Thanks, Ash.”

“No problem. Ugh, you’re disgusting with him, Brammie.” Ashley waves a hand at them, rinsing the brush out under the hot water again. “Get him the fuck out of my bathroom and go fuck him blind already.”

“I'm on it, big sister.” Bram laughs, barking and high-pitched, and Nate closes his eyes against the flinch he has to force down inside of himself, with all the other true feelings he has to hide, layered on each other like corpses in a plague grave.

“B-Bram, my… my wrists, will you m-maybe take the, the cuffs off?” He asks it softly, keeping his voice low and maybe a little flirty, the way Bram likes. If he can just have control over one thing, just one small thing, it’s easier.

Bram pauses, then the arm around him tightens. “No, baby. I want them on.”

Nate lets out a breath and slowly nods, looking down at the ground as Bram leads him out of the room. He's stumbling a little on legs that had fallen asleep while he was in the chair, pinpricks and static straight up his ankles as his feet were forced back awake.

“You want this, baby, right?” He blinks in surprise at the question, looking up, realizing only too late that it was a trick. Bram smiles as their eyes meet, and after a second, Nate smiles back at him.

Screaming in the back of his mind, hoarse and deafening, furious and helpless.

“You b-bet I do,” Nate breathes out loud, low with the sudden push of desire inside of him, and when Bram tilts his chin up for the kiss Nate moves forward first, pressing his lips to Bram’s, warm life to cold death, and he lets the dead thing take him, lets Bram pull him down the hallway by one arm, smiles when he’s shoved onto his back on the bed, arching his spine to try and take some weight off the arms still forced behind him and cuffed together with leather.

It’s easier, to let it take him, to let the dark things pull him under.

Just an hour.

It’s only going to be an hour.

He can go away for an hour, and that won’t be so bad. Then he'll come back again.

Bram on top of him is ice pressing down on his lungs, seeping under his skin, infecting every blood cell. There's a knee on either side of his thighs, a cold hand sliding up over his ribcage on one side, and Bram's mouth licks up his neck, trails of wet he blows cool air over that lights a heat in him, an electricity under his skin. Nate shifts under the attention, squirms a little when fingernails scrape over sensitive spots, press lightly against yesterday’s and last week’s bruises.

“Mmmmn, smooth,” Bram whispers as he kisses his neck, nips at the skin, teeth grazing just deeply enough for a hint of pain. Nate breathes in, holds for five, breathes out. His heart beats hard against his chest, but there’s no fear left, and his heart pounds for a different reason entirely now.

“Such a close, smooth shave,” Bram murmurs into the line of Nate’s jaw, and Nate swallows hard, pressing his hips up into Bram’s until the pressure is a warm rush of pleasure that shatters his thoughts, gives Bram an invitation for more. He pretends that he can’t hear the screaming trapped in the back of his own mind.

He pretends he is smooth, and cold, and empty. He pretends he is just like them.

Just for an hour.

And then again tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. It stretches out ahead of him, endless days of this. When Bram picks the knife up off the bedside table and slips it into the skin along his collarbone, cutting him apart as easily as silk, he hisses at the pain at the same moment Bram bites hard into his neck and the cold hand slides down his hips and finds him hardening under the attention.

"L-look at me," Nate manages to whisper, not quite begging. "J-just look at m-me, Bram, first, please. Before you... before there’s more."

Bram lifts his head - and the pain and pleasure mix in him. When the ice eyes meet his, he can't tell the two apart any longer, and his hips buck to meet the seeking hand, the cold fingers, to ask for more even as warm blood trickles down his shoulder to soak into the sheets.

"Y-yes," Nate breathes. "Just keep looking at me. J-just like th-that."

"I love you, baby," Bram says, so sweetly, and the new slice along his collarbone bleeds and aches and Bram's hand moves and he is lost, he is so fucking lost.

Nate moans softly and smiles up at him, dazed and foggy and gone somewhere far within his own mind. "I l-love you, too, honey," he says, low and hoarse, his voice heavy and slightly thick.

One day I'm going to get out of this.

I just don't know how or if I'll be alive when I do.

"Please," Nate whispers, his hands clenched into fists against the sheets, cuffed together behind his back, Bram's hips moving against his. "Please."

"What, baby?'

"Just please d-don't stop looking at m-m-me when you hurt me."

142 notes · View notes

burning-clutch · 4 years

Text

A Garden Variety Ghost

Category: Gen,

Pairings: Jack/Maddie

Author: @burning-clutch (Team Ghost)

Characters: Danny, Jazz Maddie, Jack

Warnings: Mentions of drugs, and drug like effects

-.-.-.-.-.-

Ding Dong!

The doorbell ringing in the Fenton household was always an event for many different reasons. One main one being that Jack Fenton was like an overly excitable guard dog that could actually open doors to launch out into the streets at the wayward delivery personnel. So when a hapless U-ship worker came with a collection of boxes he was met with the Fenton Foamer and a number of prolific apologies from Maddie.

“So what did you order?” Jazz asked from her spot at the kitchen table, looking up from her book only briefly to eye the cardboard package hoping to discern something from its inconspicuous form.

Maddie placed the box on the table in front of Jazz while Jack bounced excitedly beside her. “We were checking old references in my old Fenton-Nightingale book and we found a few things detailed we wanted to try out!” he boomed excitedly giving a giddy chuckle as Maddie opened the box.

“Okay… and that means what for us exactly? Should I stay at a friend's for a week?” Jazz asked nervously peering into the box only to frown when she saw nothing but packets of cushioning.

“No no. It’s fine.” Maddie said with a wave of her hand pulling out the air cushions to get to the prize. “We’re just looking into the details of ghost plants.”

“Yeah! There were a few in here that said they did stuff to ghosts! And the main one was blood blossoms, but they’re practically extinct, and we weren’t able to get those, but we got all these other ones to experiment with! Now we just gotta catch a ghost and shove them onto it!” Jack said, pulling out a small package of seeds.

“As soon as the plants grow,” Maddie added with a laugh. “I suppose gardening can be fun too,” she mused. “Come on hun, let’s set up a Fenton Grow-op”

“You know how that sounds right?” Jazz sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Seriously it sounds like you guys are getting into illegal ghost drugs or something…”

The Fenton parents exchanged a look before shrugging. “Well if it only affects ghosts it’ll be fine.” Maddie waved off flippantly.

“Yeah Jazzy! It’ll give us a good insight into how they think then! If they think at all!” Jack added, his grin threatening to split his face.

“So you’re going to see if ghosts can trip out?” Jazz asked incredulously.

“For science!” Jack boomed, seeming to disregard his daughter's look of disbelief.

“Well not just that, we don’t really know the full effects these may or may not have. There are plants that attract, repel hurt and soothe ghosts.” Maddie explained gently taking the seeds that Jack was threatening to take off with. “Come on sweetie, let’s get these planted.” Maddie urged her husband to go down to the lab.

Jazz sighed before sending off a quick text to Danny, to avoid the lab for the next few weeks as much as possible.

Of course, that only worked for so long before Danny was told to clean the lab or else his parents would retaliate by taking away his computer for a week... And with the new Doomed update on its way it was a risk, he was willing to take.

He crept down into the lab cautiously, hovering in the doorway for a moment before making note of the potentially dangerous flora that was innocently hanging out beneath a plexiglass barrier and a bright sun lamp.

He double checked the mask on his face, a gas mask he had found in the garage, it had Duel Jack Fenton faces on either side of the filters but if it worked he would suffer from the embarrassment of wearing this stupid thing for a few hours.

If any of those plants were half as potent as the Blood Blossoms were he would be in trouble if even the pollen were to hit his skin… let alone if he were to inhale something like that…

With a shudder, he took a hesitant step into the preverbal lion’s den. “Why do both Sam and Tuck have to be busy today…” he groaned to himself as he finally landed on the lab’s floor.

He crinkled up his nose behind the mask and moved along the wall of the lab, always keeping his eyes on the plants as if they were going to come to life any second and attack him. Though in this household you never know…

When he finally made it to the shelf he pulled down a box of disposable nitrile gloves and snapped on a pair. Next, he reached for a pair of goggles, popping those onto his eyes. "Right," he said aloud to himself, now as protected as he was going to get without opting to wear a hazmat suit, which he hated the feel off on his human skin.

He stared at the plants across the lab a moment before deciding it would be best to start there first. Deal with the area most in danger then work outward.

He frowned in concentration as he began to clean the plexiglass. this was going well so far, good… this will work go-

"Danny boy!" Jack boomed as he entered the lab causing the teen to jolt in surprise. The action caused his arm that was holding the squeegee to be thrown upwards popping the sealed box open and releasing some sort of purple pollen from the container.

Danny winced seeing that, infinitely thankful for the mask he had on.

"Hey, you found the Fenton anti Ecto Gas mask!" Jack boomed, pulling the device free with a wide grin. "I've been looking everywhere for this baby! Now we can have taco nights again! Your mother refused to make them, cuz -a what happens at night after… well, you know how it goes'' He chuckled, giving his son a slap on the back in gratitude.

Danny just stared wide eyed at his father, there were so many reasons why he didn't need to know about his father's nighttime emissions, but moreover, he had just stolen the gasmask! the one thing that was stopping the… the…

"You're doing great Dann-o Just remember the gear isn't to play around with… Now I gotta show Maddie this babyˋs back!” Jack boomed leaving his glassy eyed son to stare off into the void, a dopey smile crossing his face.

What was he so worried about again? Danny blinked slowly as he stared down at the purple pollen. Right that… but why? This was relaxing… it was as if everything just melted away into the background. The scent from the pollen was intoxicating…

Wait… He blinked his eyes rapidly a few times to clear them. "What?" he stared down at the floor again. That had felt incredibly relaxing! and he felt rejuvenated and energized now!

He resolved then to figure out what plant it was that did that. it was like a ghostly energy drink! Maybe his parents had flubbed up again like with the ecto-dejecto? He smiled and looked towards the first flower that he could suspect the purple pollen came from.

The flower looked like some sort of purple pinkie sunflower, with a red tinted centre. Carefully Danny lifted the glass and poked the greenish leaves, before poking the centre of the plant. "Hm…." he stared at it blankly for a moment.

"Nope, nothing…" He mused this flower was a dud it seemed.

Moving on he found something that looked like a deep purple tulip, with blood red leaves. He found himself enraptured with this one even before he opened the glass. it was beautiful and he couldn't think of anything more lovely….

He had to have it.. it was… calling him…

without even thinking he shifted into ghost mode and phased his hand through to pluck the delicate flower from its stem. He stared at it perplexed a moment before stuffing his face into the plant's open petals, breathing deep and savouring its sweet scent.

He felt a bit like a cat when he was finally snapped out of his bliss and found himself rubbing his face all over the petals sticky bits of pollen now covered him.

He wrinkled his nose as he pulled off the sap like pollen onto his glove. It wasn't burning or hurting him so that was something at least… Something that Sam had once told him about plants sparked into his mind. Something about plants attracting certain things for pollinators?

Great, he was reduced to a but brain now… Though it would make sense if these things were probably grown in the ghost zone before having their seeds dispersed through the human realm

He glared at the remainder of what once was the tulip, a moment vaporizing the flower pulp to ash in revenge for his idiocy before moving on to the next one.

Curious now, he opened up the next plant in the line of the trays. This one was a large white flower with a lime green innard and as soon as the teen stuck his head in to examine it he recoiled in disgust.

It smelled awful! "Nope!" he shut the lid in such a hurry on that one.

Next to that was a ball shaped cluster of flowers that just seemed to make him angry more than anything. He shook his head and quickly moved on from that.

On and on he went examining the various plants, with varying degrees of nothing or something with such a small change that he couldn't even really decide if it was really the plant or not.

it was when he came back around to the mushrooms that his parents were growing that things got a little more… Recreational…

When he opened up the container to poke at a weird curling mushroom it exploded it's white and blue spores at him.

Danny grinned brightly a second later and found the world looked as if it suddenly had taken on a deeper saturation, and lights had large star trails following them.

including the ghostly glow that was on his body… That was simply fun to watch. how his fingers curled and flexed, then turned to mist and back to solid again. Why was this so fun? And since when did the lines in the floor turn to water? how did his parents get them to ripple like that?

Danny poked the floor with a toe and giggled as he can see the soundwaves from the clack, incredibly loud on the floor, ripple out in the pond that became of the metal. The portal to the ghost zone spinning became still the longer Danny stared at it, it was lucid and wondrous and well… trippy.

Danny hardly noticed when a grumbling Maddie entered the basement lab holding the infernal Gasmask. The last thing she needed right now was her husband's- "Wh-What's...?" She trailed off, blinking in confusion as she stared at Phantom.

The ghost was logrolling, though staying perfectly still otherwise in the air, all the while staring at the ghost portal.

While the huntress's first instinct was to toss a net at the infernal ghost to catch him, she hesitated upon noticing some of the flowers she had been cultivating had been messed with.

Well, then this was a potential scientific breakthrough that she probably won't get another chance to have… A lucid highly human like, and sapient ghost had taken some of her plants for seemingly recreational purposes….

“Phantom. Why are you here?” Maddie asked in the most authoritative voice she could muster with the smirk pulling at her lips. the Famed and controversial hero, Phantom. high as a kite and spinning madly at the ghost portal like he was trying to find an end to the endless swirls.

The ghost startled at her voice stealing his endless spinning to stare at her upside down. The ghost's pupils were glowing brightly, and the iris had grown wide enough to be seen within the glowing orbs.

"Mom!" he gasped out, mouth falling open in his shock, as he blinked his wide eyes, and clicked his green tinted tongue as if he'd suddenly tasted something utterly foul.

Maddie raised an eyebrow at the comment. There wouldn't be any way Phantom would or should remember his human life to any capacity… It was most likely a result of whatever plant the creature had gotten into… Still…

She figured she could use it to her advantage.

Without disputing or reprimanding the ghost for his claim she simply moved onto more important matters."What on earth did you get into?"

Phantom stilled at that, he stopped his movements and did his best imitation of a statue, somehow, incredibly, it still had some sense that forced him to keep up a compulsion that made it look like he was breathing.

"I- um… I," he stammered staring at her with wide wild eyes. "I'm sorry Mom! I wanted to tell you!" He called, his eyes were starting to water now.

How did she find out?! Did she see him transform? Actually, when did he transform? Why was everything moving? How… How did she…

Maddie tilted her head watching the ghost curiously. He did remember his mother than to some degree it seems…Was he still around only because he was looking to confess to his family?

Actually, now that she was able to see him up close… He really looked like a child… She took a couple of steps forward towards the ghost, who sniffed and wiped his face on his sleeve.

Despite herself, she asked him "Is that the only reason you're still here? because you never got to tell your family you'd died?" What a horrible thought? A child taken and killed, the parents and family left behind not knowing what happened to him.

“Not exactly… I mean I always wanted to tell you guys... But I just… There were so many ghosts attacking… Then you were saying Phantom was no good… And I tried to be as good as I can!” he sniffed. He was very much not in the right headspace for this to be happening right now…

Maddie seemed to shift and shimmer stretch and bend. The teen suddenly found himself tunnelling in on the jumpsuit Maddie was wearing. The teal colour that bled into the black accents. The smooth rubberized feel and slight crinkling as she moved and shifted. It squeaks…. He could just barely make out the zipper under her neck tucked into the collar jostling slightly as she breathes. He remembered being held as a kid and staring up at that zipper… she would cradle him on his back and he would stare up at it and…

“Phantom what-” Maddie never got to finish as the ghost slammed into her. He curled around her. like a dog jumping into her arms. His ghostly tail wrapped around her arm and around her waist, as he looked up at her with bright green eyes, and overly enlarged pupils.

“I- I’m so sorry mum…” Danny sniffled out before burying his face in her shoulder tightly squeezing her as he sobs.

Maddie was trapped by the ghost now, unable to move her arms from the hug, or legs without tripping herself up in his tail. She stares incredulously down at the white mop of hair that was just under her nose… so lifelike and soft, like real human hair…

Though now that she was right up to him like this, she noticed other oddities too. The texture of his suit and the skin that she could see from his face was incredibly detailed. He had freckles even! She could see every individual hair on his head unlike other ghosts that had more of a blanket effect, whispy and fuzzy but not really hair…

The thing that really drew her eye, however, was the jumpsuit. Or more specifically the clasp at the back of the ghost's collar… An emblazoned F a distinct design that she knew all too well. One she herself helped Jack to design… This was undoubtedly at one time a proper Fenton jumpsuit…

Which means this child… this child who was no older than Danny, he was probably one of his friends! In a borrowed jumpsuit no less! But if someone had borrowed a suit and got killed in it somehow surely she’d have noticed…

The ghost shifted allowing her to move and giving her freedom of her one arm. His core seemed to buzz in his chest as he held her ever tightly. “This is .. nice… I … was so worried about how you’d take this all…. I… I was stupid…” he shuddered as he spoke each word coming out with rapid and haggard breaths.

“It’s fine... “ Maddie offered, though her mind was a million miles west as she pondered over the clasps. She needed answers… Reaching over into the plants she pulled out something that looked like a queen's Ann’s lace but with bright blue flowers.

She stuffed Phantom's nose in the flower and watched with mild relief as the ghost’s eyelids drooped and closed. She sighed again as his tail loosened up around her and she slumped against her. “Well, at least I know that one works” She mused aloud.

Not even a second later Phantom sighs deeply and a bright ring flared at his waist, causing Maddie to yelp and drop the ghost on the ground thinking an attack was building.

Instead, she was mildly perplexed as it continued to wash over Phantom, bathing the ghost in light as he changed. Everywhere the light washed over, the colours of the ghost seemed to invert until it passed over his head.

“D-Danny?” Maddie whispered out in surprise. She was thinking of all the experiments she could run but now… her mind stalled as she stared down at the prone form of her son. What happened to make him like this? Was it even really her son or was phantom somehow still awake enough to pull a trick like this? Making her see her Danny instead of…

Instead of Danny Phantom.

“Oh-Oh God…” Maddie gasped and slid next to her son, scooping him up into her lap.

When Danny next woke up it was to a bleary bliss that he wasn’t quite too sure what to make of. “Mum?” He mumbled out as he blinked his glassy blue eyes up at her. Why was his head so fuzzy? It was like he was underwater... “You cryin’?” He asked softly before his eyes widened and he jolted. His core fluttering in his chest. Had something hurt her?

“It’s okay baby, I know you were so scared before but you don’t have to be any longer… I know… I know I’ve made some terrible mistakes against Phantom… against you… but I promise I’ll do what I can to make you feel safe here…” She sniffed and curled her form around his burying her face into his shoulder.

Danny’s muddied thoughts spun out to a halt as his memories caught up with him. That’s right! She knew! she knew! And apparently accepted him!

“Y-You have no idea how much that means to me…” He sniffed too, tucking his chin over her shoulder. And squeezing her tightly just as he had only an hour earlier as Phantom. “I love you so much…”

“I know hun… I love you too… and I promise I’ll make this up to you any way I can.” She responded in kind. Tomorrow she’ll look into the plants that can help to cure her son, but for right now? She would be content to offer the love and comfort they both so dearly craved.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Complete

Word count: 3281

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23457526

#fluff and humor #ghost plants #Danny messed up by plants #phic Phight #Phic Phight 2020 #Team ghost

28 notes · View notes

doof-doofblog · 4 years

Text

"I Want Him Here With Me, With Us!"

Tuesday 2nd June 2020

Good evening everyone! As promised here is the second post of the day following up from tonight's episode. Just want to say thank you to those who like my posts, it keeps me going and I enjoy writing for you all. We all know how epic last night's episode was, I've been looking forward to seeing tonight's episode. Ooh it was quite a packed episode tonight, feel like there might be a bit to cover.

Right so let's start with Ruby, today was the day she was moving into her own place. For the past few episodes now she and Martin have been flirting non-stop, in front of Max also. It's only right for Max to feel uncomfortable and angry. He's tried to go along with the "open-relationship" arrangement that Ruby wanted, but he's found it incredibly hard watching Ruby get close to Martin. I don't think I really understand why they both have it in for each other, is it mainly because they have both been in love with the same woman - i.e Stacey! Now there's a second woman that they're both interested in, only happens to be Stacey's best friend! Is it nuts, or is it just me? I don't think anything like that would happen in real life! But then again, who am I to know? I do kinda feel sorry for Max, he's being playing along to Ruby's tune for a while now, trying to please her and excite her, woo her, even make sure her club wasn't full of drug dealers, but it's as if she's not interested. I'm sure she just said that she wants a bit of fun! But to full on admit that she actually wants to take a chance with Martin, that must've been a kick in the gut for him! It's a shame, I feel Max has been very unlucky in the love with the amount of women he's been with on the square, some people believe Stacey was his one true love, I happen to believe it was Tanya. Him and Ruby, it wasn't going to last was it?

Uh-oh ... so Ben's ear had been bleeding while he slept ... off topic a second, but can I just say the way that Callum was looking at Ben while he slept was incredibly cute! ... Anyway, due to events happening the night before, Ben has been left with complete hearing loss - the blood has happened because of the gun shot which Danny shot so close to Ben's good ear. To me it seems as if Callum isn't aware as yet, but it's only a matter of time. When Jack told him about the robbery job at Stratford, Callum instantly thought of Ben. He knew he was away that night, Ben told him he had spent the night with Lexi, but was he telling the truth? We as viewers know he's not, but after showing a video of him and Lexi together, Callum was so apologetic to his boyfriend. It's true Ben has had a bit of a reputation in the past, and there is always a chance he could go back to doing dodgy work, but Callum seemed so relieved and believed his boyfriend was telling the truth. I have a horrible feeling things are going to turn upsetting once he finds out the truth. I think the only way Callum will find out will be down to Ben's hearing loss, he'll come to realise that Ben is completely deaf and I think he'll try to find out how and why. That scene between Sharon and Callum, I found it quite a good one, Callum was clearly asking for advice about how to handle being in a relationship with someone and yet knowing they get up to no good, Sharon explained to him that he just has to trust Ben, he loves him and that should be enough, regardless of what Ben may get involved in, he loves him and he would never see him come to harm. Awww, how lovely was it to see Frankie back! I believe that we will start to see her more and more in the next few episodes, Ben will begin to struggle even more with his complete hearing loss, will he eventually tell Callum the truth and will they go to Frankie for help? Could Frankie be able to show Ben the ways of living complete deafness? Either way I'm looking forward to seeing more from her, I think she's a brilliant character to have a in a soap, I'm kinda hoping they make her a regular, and not just for a small stint in Ben's story-line, could she become a regular if the viewers love her?!

Does anyone else feel sorry for Tiffany also? Keegan hadn't spoken a word to her all day, ignored her calls and left the house before she woke up and didn't leave her a note or a message. It's true Keegan hasn't had much luck over the past few months, but digging his head in the sand and claiming defeat is not going to help the situation. Tiffany has done everything she can to support him and he's given her nothing back in return, nothing but grief, telling her that she doesn't understand, even though she's doing everything in her power to try and understand her husband and be there to support him. In tonight's episode we saw Tiff open up to Denise about how things are going in their relationship, she admitted it has been hard and that Keegan barely acknowledges her now. Denise praised her for sticking by him and urged her not to give up. Only to then find Keegan a while later, and he told he was leaving with his Mum, without her. I feel like Keegan is being selfish right now, why would he do that to her? Tiffany was clearly heartbroken, after everything they've both been through, why would he leave her in the lurch? Would he really have left and not told her if he hadn't seen her?!

Which brings me to the next topic of Karen leaving, it was kinda obvious that they wouldn't leave. Something was bound to happen, Sharon would not have been able to be stay away from her son, knowing full well he was due to leave the square, with the chance of her never seeing him again. But what does this mean for Tiffany now? Now Karen has been asked to stay, does that mean Keegan will still go on his own? Or have his plans to leave now been ruined and will he have to stay and face the music to? I don't know how quickly that will be forgotten but how will Tiffany be able to forgive him for preparing to up and leave without her? I'm happy Sharon finally saw sense and asked Karen to stay. Through out the whole episode, you knew Sharon was battling with her thoughts about what do about Kayden, I kept thinking "Will she?", "Won't She?" ... Part of me is thinking that she's doing it for Dennis, after finding the cuddly toy that was found in Dennis's belongings, she's done a complete U-turn and come to the conclusion that Dennis would not have wanted her to do this, he would've wanted her to give the young child an amazing life, just as she gave him! But now, what does it mean for both her and Phil? The look on Phil's face was far from happy ... it was anger, disgust ... purely due to the fact that it's another man's baby. How is Phil going to cope bringing up another man's child? It was the reason they split up in the first place, is Phil going to buy Sharon the Vic and let her live in there with Kayden and that will be it? I'm curious if Phil will be able to get past the fact that it's Keanu's child. He loves Sharon, and she loves him, the only thing that will come between them is baby Kayden. I'm intrigued as to what may happen next, will Phil learn to live with it? Who knows? Will Sharon even end up in the Vic? I feel like it was an obvious twist but an interesting one also, there are still many of people involved when it comes to baby Kayden ... Ben, Phil, Karen, Sharon, Kathy, Ian - how is Kayden staying with Sharon going to affect everyone? I get the feeling some will be happy, some not so much!

Thanks again everyone for taking your time to read my blog. Sadly we have wait yet another week for more of our favourite soap. It's been a dramatic week and there are so many questions going around in my head of which direction each story-line could go! I'm really excited to see more and I hope you're just excited as I am! Keep yourself safe everyone and look after yourselves. I'll be back again next Monday. Goodnight folks! Thank you again! xXx

#eastenders #rubyallen #maxbranning #martinfowler #karentaylor #keeganbaker #tiffanybutcher #benmitchell #callumhighway #ballum #denisefox #jackbranning #sharonmitchell #philmitchell

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antecedentlypod · 3 years

Text

EPISODE 4 TRANSCRIPT

[OPENING MUSIC]

LORRIE

Fish is here today; gonna sit in while I read to make sure I’m like... drinking water and stuff? [a bit distantly] Say hi to the mic!

[FISH LAUGHS]

FISH

Huh? Oh--uh, hi! Um, I’m just kinda here to listen--if I’m paying attention. I’m probably going to be on my phone for most of it. But, um, if I do, I will provide some glowing commentary.

LORRIE

Ah yes, the noises of disgust and fear will be a lovely addition to the audiobook.

FISH

Well I mean, they’re, like, fairy tales, right? So, hopefully, there won’t be too much disgust if yo--Well okay I guess some of them are, like, pretty dark. But,[Lorrie snorts in the background] um, if I do have any gripes with it, it will provide a much-needed change of pace from whatever monotony this usually is.

LORRIE

Okay, well, rude, for one. And for two-- take one of “The Devil's Sooty Brother”, read by Lorrie Adams.

[SCENE CUT FOLLOWED BY FISH LAUGHING]

LORRIE (CONT)

[fond annoyance] Shut the fuck up. Shut up! Stop laughing!

FISH

[still laughing] I’m sorry, I’m sorry! It’s just--We’re on the fourth take and you keep messing up the same two words! I’m getting kinda concerned for you.

LORRIE

[splutters] Clearly you don’t appreciate that I’m dyslexic! It’s a--it’s a process!

FISH

Right, okay, sorry.

LORRIE

Take three of--

[SCENE CUT]

FISH

Mhm.

LORRIE

Fuck it--last take for the night. [Fish laughs] No--no! You stop that! You’re not helping with this process! Is there a specific reason you had to say that the devil’s brother was actually slutty and not sooty?

FISH

Well yeah because it sounded like you said “the devil’s slutty brother” which is like--objectively hilarious? And much better; so I think, legally, they need to change it.

LORRIE

[through giggles] Y'know what? Fuck it! This story is now called “The Devil’s Slutty Brother”. Literally everything else is the same, save for that one word.

FISH

UH, well how, uh, how much is the publishing company going to enjoy that? Are these for kids?

[LORRIE CUTS HER OFF WITH A GROAN]

LORRIE

I don’t, I don’t fucking know! But-- [sound of annoyance]. Take twelve of “The Devil’s Slutty Brother”, read by Lorrie Adams.

FISH

[through a laugh] Hey kids! [Lorrie begins to laugh] This is “The Devil’s Slutty Brother” Hope you like--hope you like it! Uh, fucking, Billie.

[LORRIE SHUSHES HER]

LORRIE

A discharged soldier—

FISH

[Cutting Lorrie off] After this we can throw the pigskin around!

LORRIE

Shut up!

FISH

Sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Okay, okay, go.

LORRIE (STORY)

A discharged soldier had nothing to live on and no longer knew what to do with his life.-

FISH

[in the background] Kin.

LORRIE (STORY)

-so he went out into the forest and after walking for a while, he met a little man who was actually the devil himself.

FISH

Most little men that I meet are actually the devil.

LORRIE

[through giggles] Not Danny DeVito!

FISH

Oh--I love Danny DeVito!

LORRIE (STORY)

I—[splutters]. “What’s the matter?” The little man said to him, “You look so gloomy.” “I’m hungry and have no money,” said the soldier. If you’re ho-

FISH

I really do kin this man. This man is me. This--This is a story about me. I am the devil’s slutty brother.

[BOTH LAUGH]

LORRIE (STORY)

[groans, but is amused] If you hire-

FISH

Maybe the real slutty brother was the friends we made along the way!

[BOTH LAUGH AGAIN]

LORRIE

Let me read the story! I’ve gotten like two paragraphs in!

FISH

I’m sorry, I’m sorry! But my commentary is just that good! I’m enhancing the experience! Whoever you send this to I am so sorry, get well soon.

LORRIE (STORY)

“If you hire yourself out to me and will be my servant,” The devil said, “You’ll have enough for the rest of your life but you’ve got to serve me for seven years, and after that, you will be free. There is just one other thing I’ve got to tell you. You’re not allowed to wash yourself, comb your hair, trim your beard, cut your nails or hair, or wipe your eyes”

LORRIE

That’s kinda gross.

FISH

Wha--wipe your eye--isn’t that when you get those fuckin little like crusty thi--oh no! How many, how many--seven years?

LORRIE

Seven years.-

FISH

Ew.

LORRIE

-In hell. Not even allowed to wipe the fuckin eye boogies out of his eyes.

FISH

I don’t that at-oh, ew--I don’t like that you call them eye boogies. Take that back right now. [lorrie laughs] Never speak to me again!

LORRIE (STORY)

“If that’s the way it must be then lets get on with it.” The soldier said and he went away with the little man, who led him straight to hell and told him what his chores were. He was to tend to the fires under the kettles in which the damned souls were sitting, sweep the house clean and carry the first out the door, and keep everything in order. However, he was never to peek into the kettles or things would go badly for him.

“I understand,” said the soldier. “I’ll take good care of everything.” So the old devil set out on his travels and the soldier began his duty. He put fuel in the fire, swept and carried the dirt out the door, and did everything just as he was ordered. When the old devil returned, he checked to see if everything had been done according to his instruction, nodded his approval, and went off again.

Now, for the first time, the soldier took a good look around hell. There were kettles all about and they were boiling and bubbling with tremendous fires underneath each one of them. He woul—

FISH

Can I make an educated guess; a prediction if you will. A hypothesis.

LORRIE

Go--go for it

FISH

He’s definitely gonna look in those pots. Is he gonna drink them? I don’t know what's in there but I hope he takes a--

LORRIE

[overlapping] I hope not! That sounds nasty!

FISH

Hope he takes a good long sip of whateher the fuck is in there [lorrie laughs quietlty] Maybe it’s like, um... I don’t think we’re allowed to mention Disney properties, nevermind [they laugh]

[LORRIE GROANS]

FISH (CONT)

I don’t wanna get sued.

LORRIE

Me neither!

LORRIE (STORY)

He would have given his life to know what was in them if the devil had not strictly forbidden it. Finally, he could no longer restrain himself; he lifted the lid of the first kettle a little and looked inside only to see his old sergeant-

[FISH GASPS]

FISH

[overlapping] I’m a genius!

LORRIE (STORY)

[are you done yet?] -sitting there.

LORRIE

It was— it was an obvious—

FISH

[overlapping] wait, what's sitting there?

LORRIE

-set up. It was an obvious set up.

FISH

yeah , yeah but--okay, shut up. I’m, no, I’m just smart. No, oh my god I’m like the children-

LORRIE

[overlapping] Okay, yes you’re a genius.

FISH

I’m like the children on Dora.

[LORRIE LAUGHS AND SHUSHES FISH]

LORRIE (STORY)

[triumphant] “Aha, you crumb!”

[FISH LAUGHS IN THE BACKGROUND]

LORRIE

[appalled] Wh-what the fuck does that mean?

FISH

[just as appalled] you what?? Wait, okay--what was in the pot?

LORRIE

Um, his old sergeant was sitting in the pot.

FISH

Oh, right, he’s a--he’s a soldier

LORRIE

He’s a soldier.

FISH

Okay th—

LORRIE (STORY)

[overlapping] Aha yo—

FISH

Is that an insult?

LORRIE

I... assume so? Given the context.

FISH

[overlapping] Wait, okay, hold up. Gimme a second I’m gonna look it up. You can keep reading. I'm just gonna interrupt and tell you what that means.

LORRIE (STORY)

“Aha, you crumb!” He said. “Fancy meeting you here. You used to step on me, but now I’ve got you under my foot.” He let the lid drop quickly, stirred the fire, and added fresh wood. After that, he moved to the second kettle, lifted the lid a little and peeked inside. There sat his lieutenant. “Aha you crumb!”

LORRIE

Why does he keep saying this?

FISH

Okay, ummmm, [lorrie hms] Apparently it means ‘a worthless person’

LORRIE

Oh.

FISH

Ouch.

LORRIE

Nasty.

FISH

Damn. He went for the throat on that one.

LORRIE (STORY)

[overlapping] “Aha you crumb times two!” He said, “Fancy meeting you here. You used to step on me but now I’ve got you under my foot.” He shut the lid again and added a little more log to the fire to make it really good and hot for him.

Now he wanted to see who was sitting in the third kettle, and it turned out to be his General.

LORRIE

Did these people just not treat him well? Jesus fuck.

FISH

[contemplative] I mean... I gue--well. [Lorrie snorts] Do you think that all sol--okay nevermind this isn’t gonna be a conversation we’re gonna have right now!

LORRIE

No, no, not right now.

FISH

I was like, that’s gonna get really dark. [she laughs]

LORRIE

Mmh, no!

LORRIE (STORY)

“Aha you crumb, times three! Fancy meeting you here, You used to step on me--step on me, but now I’ve got you under my foot.” He got out of bellows and pumped it until the fires of hell was blazing hot under him.

And so it was that he served out his seven years in hell. He never washed, comped himself, trimmed his beard, cut his nails or wiped his eyes. The seven years passed so quickly that he was convinced that only six months had gone by. When his time was completely up, the devil said; “Well Hans, what have you been doing all this time?”

“I’ve tended the fires under the kettles, and I’ve swept and carried the dirt out the door.”

“But you also peeked into the kettles. Well, you’re just lucky you added more wood into the fire because otherwise you would have forgot--forfeited your life.

LORRIE

Wow.

FISH

Oh, woah there.

LORRIE (STORY)

“Now, your time is up. Do you want to go back home?”

“Yes,” said the soldier, “I’d like to see how my father’s doing at home.”

“Alright, if you want your pro— [background noise]

LORRIE

[bewildered] Hello??

LORRIE (STORY)

“Alright, if you want to get your proper reward, you must go and fill your knapsack with the dirt you swept up and take it home with you; and you must also go unwashed and uncombed with long hair on your head and a long beard with uncut nails and with bleary eyes. And if anyone asks you where you’re coming from, you’ve got to say from hell. And if anyone asks—

FISH

[overlapping] He’s gotta smell like shit and look like Merlin.

LORRIE

Probably, after seven years? Like--fuck.

FISH

[overlapping] Yeah. [much quieter] Ew.

LORRIE (STORY)

“And if anyone asks where you’re coming from you’ve got to say from hell. And if anyone asks who you are, say ‘I am the devil’s slutty brother and my king is well.’

[FISH LAUGHS IN THE BACKGROUND, LORRIE LAUGHS SLIGHTLY AS HE CONTINUES]

LORRIE (STORY, CONT)

The soldier said nothing. Indeed, he carried out the devil’s instructions but he was not at all satisfied with the reward. As soon as he was out in the forest again, he took the knapsack and wanted to shake it out, but when he opened it he discovered that the dirt had turned into pure gold.

“Never in my life would I have imagined that,” said the soldier, who was delighted and went into the city. An in keeper wa—

FISH

[overlapping] wasn’t it like, um, [Lorrie hmms] to make--to make diamonds, don’t they compress like... some kinda rock or some shit?

LORRIE

I think it’s coal. I think they compress co--that might not be right.

FISH

So like... same dif, but with dirt an--nevermind, that's not how that works.

LORRIE

[decisively] Okay.

LORRIE (STORY)

An innkeeper was standing in front of his inn as Hans approached, and when he caught sight of Hans, the innkeeper was terrified because the soldier looked so dreadful, even more frightening than a scarecrow.

LORRIE

Scarecrows aren’t scary.

FISH

[in the background] I like scarecrows!

LORRIE

It’s not hard to be scarier than a scarecrow.

FISH

They’re friend shaped!

LORRIE

They are friend shaped--

FISH

[overlapping] I wanna give 'em a lil smooch.

LORRIE

[overlapping]--I agree.

LORRIE (STORY He called out to him and asked; “where are you coming from?”

“From hell!

“Who are you?”

“The devil’s slutty brother, and my king is well.” [Fish laughs] The innkeep did not want to let him inside, but when Hans showed him the gold he went and unlatched the door himself. Then hans ordered his—the best room and insisted on the finest service. He ate and drank his fill—

FISH

[chanting] I hate capitalists, I hate capitalists, I hate capitalists, I hate capitalists—

LORRIE

[amused] I—I know, I know. I know. I do too, it’s fine.

FISH

Consume the rich! Vore the rich!

LORRIE (STORY)

He ate and drank his fill, but did not wash or comb himself as the devil had instructed. Finally, he lay down to sleep but the innkeeper could not get the knapsack of gold out of his mind. Just the thought of it left him no peace. So, he crept into the room during the night and stole it. So when Hans got up—

FISH (BACKGROUND)

What a dick move.

LORRIE (STORY)

the next morning and went to pay the innkeeper before leaving, his knapsack was gone! [Lorrie and Fish both gasp loudly] However, he wasted no words and thought ‘it’s not your fault that this happened’, and he turned straight around and went straight back to hell, where he complained about his misfortune to the devil and asked for help.

“Sit down,” Said the devil, “I’m going to wash and comb you, trim your beard, cut your hair and nails and wash out your eyes.”

FISH

I was gonna say, really bold of him to complain about misfortune to Lucifer, but… [Lorrie begins to laugh in the background] He’s kinda a chill guy! It seems like he’s just vibin!

LORRIE

[overlapping] Uh, yeah he seems kinda cool!

FISH

He’s like “yeah, yeah I’ll give you money if you just, like, do some chores.” He’s basically my mom! [Lorrie snorts] And then he just gives him a little bath! Maybe they’re in love.

LORRIE

Yeah!

FISH

Oh—wait, no, they’re brothers. Is that incest? I mean I know they’re not like actually related but he calls himself his brother so question mark?

LORRIE

Okay, okay, we’re not going down this road.

FISH

[through giggles] I’m sorry!

LORRIE (STORY)

When he was finished with the soldier he gave him a knapsack full of dirt and said ; “Go there and tell the innkeeper to give you back your gold, otherwise I will come and fetch him, and he’ll have to tend the fires in your place.”

Hans went back up and said to the innkeeper “You stole my money, and if you don’t give it back you’ll go to hell in my place and look just as awful as I did.” The innkeeper gave him back the money and even more besides, then he begged him to be quiet about what had happened.

Now Hans was a rich man and set out on his way home, he bought himself a pair of rough linen overalls and wandered here and there playing music, for he had learned that from the Devil in hell.

LORRIE

Dude—Lucifer is just fucking vibing.

FISH

Yeah I’m really—I would maybe sign up to have- to be the devil's servant. He could give me some money and teach me how to play the fiddle, then I could go compete with a man in Georgia… [Lorrie snorts] And, I mean, all I would really have to deal with is looking like shit for a little bit but I already don’t take showers so it's fine!

LORRIE

We get it, you’re depressed.

FISH

[Through giggles] Shut up! Shut up!!

LORRIE (STORY)

Once he happened to play for an old king in a certain country and the king was so pleased that he promised Hans his oldest daughter’s hand in marriage. However, When he he—when she heard that she was supposed to marry a commoner in white overalls, she said “I’ll go drown myself in the deepest lake before I do that.” So the king gave Hans—

FISH

[overlapping] Nevermind, I kin this woman.

LORRIE (STORY)

[slowly and deliberately] His youngest daughter [A short pause followed by laughter] Who was willing to marry him out of love for her father.

FISH

[overlapping] Me too. I would rather drown myself than marry a man! Me too, queen!

[LORRIE AND FISH BOTH LAUGH]

LORRIE

Y’know what? That’s completely fair.

FISH

Yeah!

LORRIE (STORY)

So the devil’s slutty brother got the king's daughter, and when the old king died, he got the whole kingdom as well. [book page turns]

LORRIE

And that’s… the end of that.

FISH

That's the end?

LORRIE

That’s the—I guess he got a happy ending. Good for him.

FISH

I was expecting that to end in some kind of, like, horrifically karmic… I don’t know what the next word in that sentence was gonna be, but it was gonna be something. Um—

LORRIE

[overlapping] Retribution?

FISH

Retribution! There’s the word, thank you.

LORRIE

Yeah, of course.

FISH

Um, but—yeah! Honestly the devil just seems like a chill guy, I’m kinda down with him. Maybe he deserves rights. Also, since the beginning of this, like our commentary at the start of it I have been imagining him as Danny DeVito. So, [Lorrie laughs] I think that impacted how much I liked him.

LORRIE

Lucifer is now Danny DeVito. But, I am going to have to re-record this properly again later! But, y’know, this was really fun, I… I wanna do this more.

FISH

Awe! Sap.

LORRIE

[splutters] Sh-Shut up! I do need to read one more story today, so shoo Fishy! I need a proper recording space to get into the zone for it.

FISH

[playful mocking] oooohh… the zone.

LORRIE

[long-suffering sigh] sush!

FISH

Fucking lame, you’re such a dork. Okay, um, I mean I was having a good time.

LORRIE

Shoo, shoo, be gone, thot.

[FISH SCOFFS]

FISH

I’m not the devil’s brother. [Lorrie snorts] Okay, um, I will see you later, have fun.

LORRIE

Love you, bye.

FISH

Yeah, whatever.

LORRIE

[more tired sounding than before] Alright, [he clears his throat] This next story is [pages turning] where the fuck is it? [more page turning] A Tale of Parch and Flesh, take one-

[SCENE CUT]

Take six, A Tale of Parch and Flesh-

LORRIE (STORY)

Once upon a time, in a world of dust and nothing, there was war. Where once there had been great kingdoms, stood tall and proud with their many flags and castles, you will find a wasteland should you be unlucky enough to stumble upon it. It is all unforgiving heat and torrential downpours of dirt and waste, spurred on by humid wind. In this nuclear nation of ours, where we few left, are worth nothing more than the roaches that flood the streets. In the distance, rusted trumpets can be heard going through the notes of a tired battle cry, footsteps to the beat of angry drums and a choir of shots and shouts for as long as they stay distant anyway.

There are bodies strewn across this desert floor, almost fit to cover the sand completely. Those who brave going outside to step around, and between the stiffs on tiptoes, perhaps for fear that one might reach out and grab them. Or that they might join that carpet of corpses and rot. But folks like us? We stay inside, we fiddle with the buttons on the radio, sorting through static for the couple of stations left. One plays music we are too young to recognize, and the other queues up to our king. He is old, and greying, and tired; in a tower that hardly stands, and he is speaking into a busted microphone.

“It’s alright,” He tells us, “There is nothing to worry about.”

He says that war is just a word the enemy has invented to threaten us, that our kingdom will, of course, prevail. That he has sent his army out to protect us, that they are fighting nobly for a just cause. Those who would have known that cause by name died out long before you and I. There is no justice here. There is nothing but gore and the endless marching of mindless flesh. The dust fills our lungs, but can not state our stomachs, so we feed on roach and rodent, and each other as I’ve heard on occasion. Mothers pat their weeping children’s heads, hushing them through the thunder of bombs and anguished screams.

“It’s alright,” they say, “There is nothing to worry about.”

What a curse, I think, to bring a child into a place like this. One where they will know nothing but a desolate world full of desperate people. Now picture with me, reader, that you are on the front lines; you can feel the sun baking you through, can nearly feel your blood boiling beneath it. This is not what you signed up for. Your uniform is heavy and hot, and you can not tell if what cakes your face is paint, dirt, or the blood of the men you’ve gunned down. Your eyes are just as heavy, if not more, for you have not met sleep. You crawl, and you hide, and you cower. And you stay so quiet you sometimes forget to breathe, because maybe if you make yourself silent—make yourself small enough—you will simply cease to be. You are granted no such mercy.

When it is not hot, it is colder than anything, and you feel it in the core of you. From your weary feet to the unkempt hair under your helmet, you look around for solidarity from the soldiers at your side, but they stare ahead and do not blink and say nothing, like memorial statues in the making. You can’t recall if you’ve ever heard anything from them but cries to move, move, move. In fact, you can’t even remember their names, but you suppose you’ll read them on the plaques

You stare at the fox hole massive route and rock in front of you and watch the growing hive of bugs in and in and in, and not come back out. Your leader parrots the words of your king; you are fighting a just cause, you are doing what needs to be done. There are people to defend and a nation to make a name for. Those who stare down the barrel of your gun are not men, but beasts who must be tamed or put down. But you looked him in the eye when you shot, and he looked just like you. So,” I’m sorry,” you say, but only one of you can make it out of this place and you’ve been here too long for it to not be you.

And that's what you don’t know; that there is no out. There is hardly a before, and there will not be an after. All your feet know is how to step into line, your helmet has become a shell, whatever is packed on your face has dug its way into your pores beneath your skin and has made a home there. The medals and pins on your chest seem to pierce straight through your skin, and the dirt and dust in your lungs belongs there just as much as your blood and bone. Have your ears ever known not to ring? Have you ever spoken and felt your throat not to be hoarse? Are you any less a beast than those which you end?

But you are not on the front lines, are you? No. And you are nut huddled with me behind a rusted door, or letting your shaking mother smother your fries with false reassurances. You are safe in bed, perhaps driving to work, sitting at your desk finishing your dinner. But you have been brought into a desolate world full of desperate people, and it is not alright.

The end.

LORRIE

[struggling to find the right words] That was… unsettling. These stories just seem to get more and more and more unsettling as time goes on! Not to mention the headaches I’ve been getting while reading them. Like—what kind of story would be giving you a migraine! They’re all different stories, y’know, so it’s just a matter of—I dunno. Maybe my eyes are just getting tired or something. Maybe I’m getting sick too. Fish and I have both been feeling under the weather.

But… I think I should invest in some reading glasses. End recording.

[CLOSING MUSIC]

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jjmaybankx · 4 years

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WHY DO I STILL » STILES STILINSKI » FOUR

MASTERLIST

TRAILER

< ONE

< TWO

< THREE

✧☾✧

HAVEN JUMPED, STARTLED BY THE TEEN WOLF WHO STOPPED IN FRONT OF HER

"Scott?" she asked, weaving through other students and approaching her friend.

He had slammed into a locker, one whose owner she knew. She saw the dent he left, but that was the least of her troubles. He was panting, trying to control his breathing. She leaned against the locker next to him, placing a hand on his back, rubbing near his shoulder blade.

"Scott, breathe," she whispered comfortingly, running a hand through his hair.

Stiles stopped behind them, looking at how calm Haven was trying to get Scott settled, but he pulled her towards him when Scott punched the locker off of its hinges. Haven's eyes went wide, her shoulders tense while Stiles held her waist.

"You okay?" Stiles whispered to her, and she nodded, looking at him and then his hands, pulling them off of her waist and stepping away from him, her cheeks red.

Stiles was taken aback from it, wondering why she was so quick to move out of his grasp. He also wondered how she had beeb getting to school considering she texted him saying she didn't need a ride anymore earlier that week.

Haven looked around, noticing that no one saw Scott punch a locker off of its hinges. People really were in their own worlds.

"Scott," she said softly, taking a step towards him as he started to back up, but she didn't go after him when she saw him back right into Allison.

She walked away, Stiles going with her when they saw Jackson coming towards his locker.

✧☾✧

The trio walked into the cafeteria, finding a table to sit at. Scott said across from Stiles and Haven, talking about how his "dream" the other night must have not been an actual dream.

"Something happened last night, and I can't remember what," Scott said.

"What makes you so sure that Derek even has all the answers?" Stiles asked.

"Because," he exclaimed, emphasizing the first word. "During the full moon he wasn't changed. He was in total control while I was running around in the middle of the night attacking some totally innocent guy!"

"You don't know that."

"I don't not know it... I can't go out with Allison. I have to cancel."

"No, you're not cancelling, okay? You can't just cancel your entire life. We'll figure it out."

Haven looked at them confusedly.

"You'd be in the loop if I had picked you up this morning," Stiles said. "So... whose been taking you to school?"

A tray got put on their table, earning a gawking stare from Stiles as he looked at whose tray it was.

"Figure what out?" Lydia asked.

"Ha," Stiles let out a breathe with a smile.

Lydia looked at Haven, asking, "We still getting coffee after school?"

Stiles looked between the two girls, realizing who was Haven's new driver to and from school, since for some reason, it hadn't been him.

"Yeah, of course," Haven smiled.

As the rest of her clique seemed to find seats around the trio, Stiles leaned in towards Scott, asking, "Why is she sitting with us?"

Scott was speechless, no words coming out of his mouth as he shook his head and shrugged. He then looked up, moving his jacket so Allison could sit in the chair next to him.

Jackson got there, telling the guy sitting in the end chair next to Lydia to get up.

"How come you never ask Danny to get up?" the guy asked.

Well, he technically didn't ask you, he told you to move, Haven thought.

"Because I don't stare at his girlfriend's coin slot," replied Danny.

As Jackson sat down, Scott glared at him.

"So, I hear they're saying its some sort of animal attack," Danny announced to the group. "Probably a cougar."

"I heard mountain lion," Jackson said, earning rapid blinking from Haven.

That's what he just said... she thought.

"A cougar is a mountain lion," Lydia said, and when Jackson gave her a sideways glance, she said, "... Isn't it?"

"Who cares?" was Jackson's response. "The guy's probably some homeless tweaker who's gonna die anyway."

"Actually, I just found out who it is," Stiles said.

Haven leaned over his shoulder, placing her chin on his arm as she looked down at his phone, looking at whatever he was looking at. He extended his hands so that everyone could look down at his phone, playing a news clip.

"I know this guy," Scott said, and Haven got off of Stiles's arm when she noticed Scott's small smile at them.

"You do?" Allison asked.

"Yeah, when I used to take the bus back when I lived with my dad. He was the driver," he stated.

"Can we talk about something slightly more fun please?" Lydia asked. "Like, oh, where are we going tomorrow night?"

Allison and Scott looked at her quickly, confused by the question.

"You said you and Scott were hanging out tomorrow night, right?"

Haven and Stiles winced at the words 'hanging out.'

"Um... we were thinking of what we were gonna do," Allison said.

"Well, I am not sitting home again watching lacrosse videos, so if the six of us are hanging out, we are doing something fun," she said.

"Six of us?" Scott questioned. "H-hanging out?"

"Haven and Jeep boy," Lydia said, pointing to Stiles and Haven.

Scott turned to Allison, asking, "Do you wanna hang out, like us and them?"

Awkwardly, Allison said, "Yeah, I guess. Sounds fun."

"You know what else sounds fun?" Jackson asked, picking up a fork. "Stabbing myself in the face with this fork."

"That does sound fun, you're right," Haven said with a fake smile, rolling her eyes when she glanced back down at her food.

Stiles tried to stifle his laughter.

✧☾✧

"How did I get dragged into going bowling with a bunch of couples?" Haven asked her mom, standing in front of her open closet as she picked out an outfit.

"It sounds like your friend Lydia basically set up a triple date," Mrs. Salazar pointed out. "Scott and this Allison girl, Lydia and her boyfriend, you and—."

Haven fake gagged, making a disgusted face. "Don't you dare finish that sentence."

"What? Stiles is a nice boy!" reasoned Mrs. Salazar. "And you missed your chance with Scott."

"Sometimes I regret also telling you that I like Scott," sighed Haven. "You and Stiles are always using this crush against me!"

"Scott came by the hospital last night," Mrs. Salazar said. "Brought Melissa and I dinner."

"Both of you?"

"He tends to," shrugged Mrs. Salazar. "When he brings his mom something and I'm on shift, he'll get me something, too. She told him he wasn't getting the car since there's a curfew. I guess I'm just a bad mom letting you go. But then again, I am Team Stiles."

"Yes, mother, as you have been declaring since I told you about my crush on Scott."

"You and Stiles are just adorable!"

"And this is why I feel uncomfortable being so close to him now."

Haven laughed, pulling out a top and jeans, throwing them onto her bed. She looked at her mom, silently telling her to get out.

"I'm your mother! You can change with me here."

She looked between her mom and the door.

"Fine, fine, I'm gone."

✧☾✧

"So... we really just came along to watch our crushes be on dates with other people?" Stiles whispered, rolling his eyes when Jackson came behind Lydia, helping her bowl.

"You came to watch your crush. But I told you, I am over Scott," she said, standing up to grab her bowling ball when her turn came up.

Everyone was doing fairly well other than Scott, making his friends cringe for him from their seats.

"Do you want anything to drink? Eat?" Stiles asked her, pointing back at the cafe within the bowling alley.

"I am always up for food," she nodded.

"We're gonna get food," Stiles informed them, sighing when he realized Scott and Jackson were too busy bickering to notice, so they just slipped away to get something to eat without them.

As they waited for their food at a table, they both fidgeted in their own ways. Haven was messing with her nails while Stiles tapped his foot rapidly.

"So, why have you, uh, why has Lydia been taking you to school?" Stiles asked her.

"I dunno," she shrugged. "Girl talk is nice sometimes."

"Talking about Jackson all day is nice?" Stiles quirked up an eyebrow.

"She doesn't talk about Jackson all day," Haven shook her head.

"I know," Stiles stated. "She's smart, she just likes to pretend she isn't."

"Isn't that cute," Haven said, squinting her eyes at him. "You really do pay attention, don't you?"

"I pay attention to the people I care about," he shrugged, fumbling with the receipt in his hands. "Just like I paid attention to how you've been detaching yourself from us."

"Stiles..." she sighed, but then she admitted, "I don't mean to detach myself, I'm just... it's nice to not be scared all of the time."

"It's fine," he brushed it off. "This whole teen wolf thing is scary, you didn't sign up for it."

"I didn't need to sign up for it," she said. "You two are my friends. We're in this wild life together... But if we all start dropping and becoming wolves, I refuse to be one. I will stay human even if it kills me."

✧☾✧

As they pulled up to Stiles's house, they saw Noah Stilinski in his Sheriff's uniform, making his way to his car.

"Dad?" Stiles called, not even getting fully out of his car as he stepped out of it, looking at his dad over the roof of his car. "Where are you going?"

"Hospital," Sheriff Stilinski responded, sending a small wave and smile at the girl in his son's passenger seat as he unlocked his own car. "The bus driver succumbed to his wounds. There's a curfew, you get her home, son."

Stiles got back into the car, shutting the door as both teenagers stared forward with open jaws. They watched as the Sheriff took off before Stiles put back on his own seatbelt, starting his car back up.

"I guess ice cream and movies are gonna need to take a rain check," Stiles told Haven, and she nodded as he pulled out of the street.

"We're not going to my house, right?" Haven asked.

"Nope," Stiles said, turning away from the direction they'd have to drive to take her home.

She nodded. "Just checking."

They tried to be quiet as they parked in front of the McCall house, using the tree to get to the rooftop near Scott's bedroom window.

Stiles helped Haven through the open window, pulling her through after he got inside himself. They saw Melissa McCall pick up a baseball bat, ready to swing at them. Stiles got on top of Haven, putting a hand out in defense.

"Woah, woah, wait!" he yelled as Melissa screamed.

Then, all three of them started screaming.

"Stiles, Haven, what the hell are you two doing here?!" exclaimed Melissa.

"What are we doing?" Stiles yelled back. "God, do either of you even play baseball?"

"Is that my bat?" Haven asked, examining it.

"Why would you have a baseball bat?" Stiles asked, exasperated.

"Stole Kaeden's favorite one when he broke up with me?" she stated, ending it with a high note to pretend it was a question.

"You are psychopathic," Scott said.

The lights turned on and Scott walked in.

"Can you please tell your friends to use the front door," Melissa asked Scott.

"But we lock the front door," Scott replied. "They wouldn't be able to get in."

"Yeah, exactly," Melissa said. "And, by the way, do either of you three care that there's a police enforced curfew?"

"No," they chorused.

"No. All right then," Melissa said. "Well, you know what? That's about enough parenting for me for one night. So, good night. Haven, I am calling your mom."

"She knows I'm here!" Haven yelled after Melissa as she walked out.

Stiles sighed, and Scott pulled out a chair.

"What?"

"My dad left for the hospital around the time Haven and I got back to my place."

"Why were guy two going back to your place?" Scott asked.

"It's the bus driver," Stiles continued, ignoring Scott's question. "They said he succumbed to his wounds."

"Succumbed?"

"Scott... he's dead," Haven said softly.

✧☾✧

Haven broke out in a run after Scott, something she realized she's been doing a lot lately. She almost tripped on her own feet, following Scott into the burned Hale house.

"Derek! I know you're here! I know what you did!" Scott yelled.

An echoing voice responded, "I didn't do anything."

Scott ventured further as Haven stayed at the front door.

"You killed him!" Scott accused, going up the stairs.

"He died."

"Like your sister died?"

"My sister was missing. I came here looking for her."

"You found her."

"I found her in pieces. Being used as bait to catch me!"

"I think you killed them both," Scott accused. "I'm gonna tell everyone."

"Scott," Haven said in a warning tone.

"Get your little girlfriend out of here," Derek said.

"Haven's not my girlfriend," Scott replied, but he turned around. "Hav. Go wait in the car with Stiles."

She didn't move though, looking at the boy she claimed not to still be in love with. Fear was coursing through her, but she didn't want to not be there for him.

"You know, Haven, wolves can smell emotions if they tried," Derek's voice sounded, and her eyes widened. "Your love for Scott is bigger than your fear, but you're going to have to do as he says."

Scott didn't seem to realize what kind of love Derek was talking about when he sent her a pleading look, and she gulped, turning on her heels and making a run for Roscoe.

✧☾✧

FIVE >

MALIYAH THOUGHTS!!

hey guys! just wanted to stop by and say hi. oh, and that this book may just be the slowest burn i've ever written... you'll understand when we're three seasons in and haven ands stiles have made zero progress :)

probably won't be covering every single episode, but mainly the big ones from here!

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinski imagine #jjmaybanks;why do i still

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ontherockswithsalt · 4 years

Text

A Made Man

(ao3 story link)

A/N: HERE WE ARE. The story began with Jamie getting ready for a Reagan Family Sunday dinner and 40-some chapters later, it wraps up at another one. This is the last chapter of A Made Man, the third installment of The Penthouse series. What a damn ride this has been. Oof. Thanks for being here for it all.

Chapter 47.

“Uncle Jamie, that’s a pretty sick watch.”

I barely hear the observation from my nephew Jack across the dining room table. My gaze is fixed on the mountain of macaroni and cheese on my plate in front of me, the sight alone making my stomach turn.

“Hey Uncle Jamie—” Danny’s voice cuts through as he settles into his seat. “Jack likes your watch.”

“What?” I utter, glancing up. “Oh. Thanks.”

“That new?” My brother questions with a nod.

I twist my wrist to look at the watch Noble gave me, then clear my throat. “Uh, yeah.”

“Let’s be a little less focused on sick watches just before we say grace, huh?” My grandpa announces and I see Jack snicker with a look to Nicky at Pop’s choice of words. “Since you’re the birthday boy, how about you lead off?”

Suppressing a groan, I scoot closer to the table and rest my elbows on either side of my plate. “Since it is my birthday, I reserve the right to pass,” I decide. “Someone else.”

“Oh, boo!” Danny jeers. “You don’t get a pass.”

“You pass all the time,” I argue.

“Alright, I’ll start.” Erin announces.

My dad pipes up, “Somebody please.”

My sister clears her throat. “Bless us, O Lord—”

Clasping my hands, I tip my forehead down and rest it there, just praying to make it through dinner.

After grace, as everyone’s passing dishes, I’m relieved, and a little hopeful I can tune out, when Nicky takes over the conversation.

“Was anyone else really moved by that sermon?” She announces, passing the requested salt and pepper over to my dad. “I thought it was so romantic.”

“Romantic?” Sean protests. “Gross, it’s church.”

“Not gross,” she contends.

“I thought it was very beautiful,” Linda indulges her.

“I went and looked up that quote Father Quinn used when he talked about loss and love,” Nicky tells the table, adjusting to pull a folded piece of paper from one of her pockets. “It’s not from scripture; it’s from a book by C.S. Lewis.” As she unfolds the note, she glances up at my father. “Is it okay if I read it, Grandpa?”

My dad inhales deeply through his nose and then offers her one of his tight-lipped smiles to humor her. “Have at it.”

Nicky grins, straightening her shoulders. “In love,” she recites, “there is no safe investment. If you want to make sure of keeping your heart intact, lock it up safe in the casket of your selfishness--”

I scoff this unintended loud breath and hunch over my plate, as if I could somehow escape this.

Slowly, she turns her gaze my way. “I’m not finished.”

“Your niece is trying to appreciate literature,” Danny taunts. “Do you mind?”

Acquiescing, I merely gesture to her to carry on.

“But in that casket,” she resumes. “It will change. It will not break, but instead your heart will become impenetrable. The only place outside of heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers of love is hell--”

“Alright--” Erin speaks up while the end of Nicky’s reading prompts looks from Danny’s kids.

My brother chuckles. “It’s a little deep for fried chicken night. That’s all.”

“Give me a break,” I mutter, reaching for my water. “Who gave the homily? Doctor Phil? Glad I missed it.”

“I really enjoyed it.” Nicky shrugs. “I think it’s so true. To love is to be vulnerable--”

“What are you talking about?” I hear the way my voice cuts harshly into her easy tone, but I’m too tired to come off any other way. “You’re too young to even know what that means, Nicky.”

“Well wait a minute--” she disputes.

I lean in to look past her at my sister. “You gonna let her spout off about the dangers of love? I didn’t think that was a concept you would endorse.”

Erin just meets my gaze, pausing to draw in a thoughtful breath.

“It wasn’t meant to start an argument,” Nicky insists. “I was going to relate it to the job of being a police officer--”

“Yes, that sounds good,” my dad speaks up. “Let’s relate it to the job.”

“No, let’s relate it to Jamie,” Danny cuts in. “Since that got him all torqued up. What happened, kid? You forget to lock up your heart in the casket of selfishness?”

Nicky giggles at the jab.

I drop my fork and it clatters against the plate as I push back and get to my feet. Turning away from the table, I stalk off out of the dining room.

“Hey. Hey!” I hear my brother holler after me along with Erin who calls my name.

But I can’t listen to this shit. I’d rather sit and have to deal with with my grandpa gripe about those homosexuals appropriating the word gay. It used to mean happy!

I’m not sure where I intend to end up so I just make my way to the bathroom and shut the door.

Already I regret the dramatic storm-off because now I’ll be expected to provide an explanation. Plus that was shitty to do to Nicky.

But of all days, this has to be the one where someone initiates some damn discussion about heartbreak like a cruel joke they’re all in on.

I pinch right between my eyes and take a deep breath. Fuck, I’m gonna throw up.

My core seizes and it's only a moment later that I do.

***

After a few minutes, splashing water on my face, attempting something that comes off as normal breathing, I make my way back to the dining room.

“Jamie are you okay?” Nicky speaks up. “I’m sorry if—”

“No, I’m sorry, Nicky.” I sigh, holding onto the back of my chair where I stand. “I’m uh— I’m not feeling well. I think I need to—”

“Did you puke?” Sean wonders, prompting a look of disgust from my grandfather as he chews.

“Sean.”

“It’s your favorite dinner,” Jack adds. “Mac and cheese for your birthday.”

“Boys—” Linda leans in. “Uncle Jamie doesn’t feel well.”

I acknowledge my nephews. “I know. And I appreciate it.”

“Mom made a cake.”

“You don’t look so hot,” Linda notices. “Maybe you should go lie down.”

Deciding not to argue with Danny’s wife, I simply nod. “Yeah. Maybe that’ll help.” Then I turn and head for the staircase. I could try to make it home, but it’s highly likely I’ll throw up again or have some kind of panic attack behind the wheel. So I settle on hiding in my old room upstairs instead.

I never come up here. My childhood bedroom is now this half-transitioned guest room, but a few remnants — a Harvard pennant, along with framed prints of pictures I took at Joshua Tree, a camping trip I made the summer between undergrad and law school — still hang on the wall near my bed. The old Parking For Jets Fans Only metal sign has been hung up by the door for as long as I can remember. It’s weird how these things take you back in time.

The tall bookcase in the corner displays a few diecast model cars Joe and I used to collect, books I loved in high school, and a stack of CDs next to my stereo.

I sniff a soft laugh when I peruse the album titles, so distinctly an era that seems a lifetime ago. Sliding out the case for U2’s Rattle and Hum, I pry it open and fit the disc in the CD player. I set it to shuffle the songs and then turn to fall across the bed.

I don’t know how I got here. It’s like I screwed up so many steps ago, I can’t pinpoint where. I could go farther back than the night I met Noble.

I think about when I proposed to Sydney. I was twenty-six, deliriously self-righteous after three years in the bubble of ivy league law school, acing the bar exam and convincing myself I’d never wear the NYPD uniform.

I don’t know what life I pictured for us. But it was an easy enough fit.

And then my brother was killed.

The devastation was so consuming I thought I’d never be capable of caring about anything after the loss of Joe. Since, I’ve had to find life with some other purpose. With that engagement in a sort of permanent limbo, I enrolled in the Police Academy. Because it was inevitable? Because I had something to prove? A calling to step up for Joe? Probably all of it.

And if I never had — If I’d stayed in private practice, married Sydney — would I feel like this much of a fuck up? I’ve never second guessed leaving that path behind until now.

All I know is that I wish I’d never met Noble Sanfino.

A light tap on the door draws my attention across the room. It eases open and I see Erin, lingering there with some hesitation.

I simply turn my gaze back up to the ceiling. “What now?” I murmur.

“Jamie, what happened?”

Exhaling a pained, breathy laugh, I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter.”

She steps in the room enough to close the door. “I take it you had a talk with Nick.”

“We’re done, Erin,” I tell her. “It’s over. So— Nice work.”

“Jamie.” She says my name again with this concerned shock and it’s such a fucking joke to me.

My head throbs and I just want this all to be something I never think about.

“What do you mean it’s over?”

“I questioned him about whether he knew Tommy Messina. He doesn’t. But the reality is he can never be safe in New York so what’s the point? He ended it and he’s staying in Florida. There isn’t much else to explain.”

She comes closer, arms crossed over her chest and glances around the room. “That can’t be the only solution.”

“Well that was his solution so—”

“I’m so sorry. That wasn’t my intent.”

Fuck off, I want to say. I sit up and put my feet on the floor. “Erin.”

“I like Nick a lot.”

I just shake my head and cough out this unamused laugh. “What does that matter now?”

“If I hadn’t called you with that information, would this have happened?”

I shrug. “It would have come to this point sooner or later. I guess we just didn’t want to face it until we had to.”

“So now what?”

I look at her like what the hell do you think. “I guess you can sleep at night without the threat of your car being set on fire. What do you mean now what?”

“You love him, though.” She says it quietly because this is a bizarre conversation we’ve never really had.

If anything, her input on my relationships has only ever been her chiming in with smug, big sister commentary that I never asked for.

“I’ll get over it,” I mutter.

She sits there a minute as if she’s contemplating her role in this. It doesn’t matter, though. What’s done is done.

Eventually, she softly attempts her next question. “Do you plan on coming out to Dad at some point?”

I glance at her, my brow furrowed. “Come out about what? No.”

She sighs when she figures that’s a dead end path and tries another way. “There are options, Jamie. I mean you guys could live in Connecticut, that’d probably be a safer situation, and you could commute—”

Confused, I just shake my head. Don’t do this, don’t fucking problem-solve after that bullshit phone call this morning that prompted this whole fallout. As if I’m anywhere near the right frame of mind to look at the situation with some kind of reason.

Blankly, I merely offer, “I know.” And that nauseated feeling starts to spin in my head once more, but I go on. “That wasn’t the conversation though. We weren’t at a place where we’re like, ready to live together. I don’t know. It’s like, all of a sudden—”

Exhaling hard, the muscles in my chest seize. I try to tip my head back and breathe up at the ceiling but the air is trapped. So I lean forward at the waist where I sit on the edge of the bed and hang my head between my knees.

I feel Erin’s palm up the center of my back. “Hey, hey, hey— It’s okay. Jamie, it’s okay.”

“I shouldn’t have even considered—”

“Shh.” She cuts me off. “You need to breathe.”

There’s a tightness in my throat and I feel like I’m choking, Like my inhale doesn’t go anywhere. I can tell myself I’m sinking into an anxiety attack but my body doesn’t listen to the rationale. It’s terrifying that I know what it is and I can’t stop it. Telling myself I’m okay doesn’t make it relent.

“Jamie,” Erin whispers. Then I feel pressure on my back like she’s resting her forehead there as she sits beside me, the weight steadying me.

She’s had to do this before. But it hasn’t been since mom was really sick, there near the end, that I’ve felt the grip of panic on me this tight. Usually, I’m able to anticipate it, unwind it before I’m held captive, but not this time.

“Try to breathe in for four seconds,” she says. “With me. Okay?”

Closing my eyes, I attempt to draw in a deep breath but I just cough out air almost like a sad laugh. “I can’t.”

“Okay two seconds,” she bargains.

I make myself sit upright and press my hands on the edge of the bed. “Goddammit,” I mutter in frustration.

“Try again. Let it be all you think about.”

Hanging my head, I inhale deeply, channel my energy into a steady breath that expands my back.

“Let it out just as slow.”

I do. But there’s still this hard squeeze like someone’s pressing just beneath my ribcage.

"See that was four seconds,” she murmurs. “Show-off."

"Don't patronize me," I manage.

Erin laughs softly and continues the steady back and forth path of her hand on my back. "Fine then as far as breathing goes, I've seen better."

Finally I exhale in amusement and just shake my head. I work on another breath.

I keep on like that for a few more, determined to follow the pattern — in for four and out for four, the sounds of it loud between my ears. It’ll pass. I can’t fight it, I have to just know I’ll get to the other side. But fuck, I don’t even want to. This will be over and Noble will still be gone.

After a few steady moments, Erin squeezes my shoulder. "This song," she muses, letting the slow-building track of All I Want Is You set a soothing rhythm to the air I take in. "Remember when Joe and I took you to that U2 concert? You were what, you’d just graduated high school?"

Another gradual breath while I think about that night out in the city. "Yeah," I answer. "Danny was on modified assignment working The Garden."

Erin chuckles. "I need to remind him of that cushy little gig next time he tries to say the bosses are too soft on you."

I sit there and let the music sink through me. This song is so goddamn sad it hurts. First Nicky’s absurd to love is to be vulnerable speech. And now the lull of Bono’s haunting voice musing that all the promises we break, from the cradle to the grave, when all I want is you — everything is a joke.

I focus on the memory of that night, years ago with Erin and Joe. When simple shit like going to concerts and walking around New York, our ears ringing and our voices hoarse, was enough of a thrill and not a lot else mattered. “We had nosebleed seats,” I recall. “And Danny managed to get us down front."

"That was a pretty awesome night."

I breathe again and the sick feeling starts to dissipate. "Between that, and this room, it's like… I'm remembering another life."

She glances up and around, seeming to consider the memories held in time here. "It sort of was."

I swallow hard and close my eyes. "Somewhere I went wrong, Erin."

She just turns her gaze to me and offers a quiet "Shh" worried I'll get worked up again.

"How is this where I'm at?"

"Jamie, don't look for answers now."

"I have to look for answers or I'm gonna start missing him like hell."

"So let yourself miss him."

I take another slow, deep breath as the heat beneath my skin begins to taper off. At this point, it’s like missing Noble is all I have the energy for. It’s all I can do to tip back across the bed once more and close my eyes.

My empty heart dwindles its beat down to something that almost feels normal, leaving the slightest flicker of clarity, reminding me that my only control is over what I do next.

#jamie x noble #welp it got worse

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