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sailor-toni · 1 year

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"Nocturne is one of the Ancients who sealed away Pariah Dark, but he doesn’t remember who the others were. His memories didn’t fade with time; they were taken. How did this happen and why?" - Prompt from Hollyflash for the Phic Phight. Updated 2021 The future Ghost King Danny Phantom is hiding from his duties in Ghostwriter's library when they discover a trail of memories that reveal a dark secret from the past.

Chapter 1: All Hail the new King

You can also read this on A03, FF.net, and Wattpad.

If another person called him “Your Highness” Danny was going to flip the fuck out. Your Highness this, Your Highness that, Your Highness take this! It was going to drive him up the wall and into the goddamn moon. The worst of all was the Knight of darkness, ruler of Halloween, and former loyal Pariah apologist, Fright Knight.

Everywhere he went, Fright Knight was there! In his homeroom, in his locker, even in his bathroom, handing him toilet paper. There were only a few times Danny was thankful that everyone knew his identity, he couldn’t even think of a way to lie to his parents about why he was screaming at an undead knight to get out of his bathroom at five in the morning, or why said Knight had cleaned his bedroom, and laid out his freshly ironed clothes for the day.

And now Danny, Tucker, and Sam were hiding in the one place the Lord of the Night would never look for them. The Ghostwriter’s library. A dusty building full of deep violet book shelves that spans far past what the exterior of the building would suggest. The years of dust and ectoplasm was leaking from the books and onto their clothes. Staining their boots as they pushed piles of tomes back on to the failing bookshelves.

“Be careful! Those are ectoplasmic memories from the library of Alexander! If you press them too hard they will completely fade away!” Ghostwriter cried, pushing books into new makeshift piles.

“An ectoplasmic what?” asked Danny.

“Did you say those are from the library of Alexander?!” Tucker and Sam reached for the fading books.

“They are not from the library of Alexander, they are memories of the library of alexander. Just like humans and animals, items and even places with deep pain can manifest as ectoplasmic memories or after images. But unless the pain is cumbersome, the items or places only exist as a faded version of themselves. And LET GO!” he said, pulling the scroll from Sam’s hands, before gently blowing the dust off the scroll’s translucent body.

“That’s amazing! Do you know how much lost information is in that?” Tucker said.

“ Do I know how much ? OF COURSE I KNOW! That is why I asked you to not touch it!” Ghostwriter said, shoving the scroll deep into his jacket.

“Why do you even have that? How did you even get it?” Sam asked.

“The Ghost Zone is a reflection of the human world. So when a person dies a most tragic and hopeless death, the reflection of their suffering gains a new miserable life in this neon green hellscape. The same thing happens to objects and even places. Once in a while the ghost zone may become a reflection of itself, though I’ve personally never seen it.”

“What do you mean a reflection of itself? Can’t it go both ways?”

“Can you reflect a mirror?”

“What?”

“Can you reflect a mirror?” Ghostwriter repeated the question but the three teenagers looked at him with blank faces. “If you stand in front of a mirror it will give you your reflection, but does it work the opposite way? Can you, a human, give a mirror its reflection?”

“No people aren’t mirrors. Our skin is pretty solid.” Tucker said.

“Exactly. Humans and the human world cannot give any reflections, therefore when tragedy and misery strikes in the Ghost Zone, it is like a mirror is held up to another mirror. The two reflections repeat the image over and over again until it runs out of energy. At least according to the theories I read. Most of these events don’t last more than a hundred years before they fade out.”

“Wait, you said in theory, does that mean no one has seen one before?” Sam asked.

“That just means no one who has seen it has written them down. There are stories of ghosts seeing them, and even a stupid legend about one in the library. But I’ve never seen it.” The last part came out of his mouth like a teenager complaining about their ten o’clock curfew. “But you three are more than welcome to go exploring and find this double reflection. And leave me and my work alone.”

“What was that last part?” Tucker said.

“You three are free to go exploring around the library to your little heart's content.”

“No what you said after that.”

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything. But make sure no damage comes to my library. You might be the future king but I will not hesitate to call that dimwitted knight oliver to collect you.” Danny rolled his eyes at the treat.

“Yeah, yeah we will make sure not to burn the place down.” Danny said.

As the three began to make their way down the library bookshelves, Ghostwriter disappeared into a nearby room and slammed the door shut. The twisting of the lock echoed through the quiet building.

“Man that guy is rude.” Tucker was the first to break the silence. “Especially to the future King of the ghost zone.”

“I know, tell me about it.” Danny said. “He should be treating the new king with a little bit more respect!”

“Well, technically you’re not King yet. You're just a prince right now. You’re not even 18 yet.'' Sam said.

“Yeah but Danny is almost King, and that should count for something.” Tucker said.

“You would think but half of the Ghost Zone still treats me like I’m a kid. I’m sixteen for Christ sake!”

‘Maybe they don’t believe you are the next king. Or maybe they don’t want a king?” Sam pondered.

“Well if I was going to be the next king, Danny and Sam gave their friend wary looks. The school still remembered the short reign of King Tuck. “I would show them whose boss! No king can let his subjects walk all over him, that's why you have to know them down sometimes.”

“Um Tucker? If Danny does that he would be just as bad as Pariah Dark.”

“No Sam, I’m not saying Danny should torture or try to kill the ghost. Just ruff them up a little. Send the guards to their house, throw them in prison. People have to fear their rulers a little bit,”

“I can’t believe you! People shouldn't have to fear their rulers! Actually if you ask me,” Nobody had. “There shouldn’t be any rulers at all! The existence of a ruler means there has to be someone below them and no human or ghost is lower than any other human or ghost! Plus the Ghost zone hasn’t even had a king for the last 300 or something years? And everything looks okay.”

“Oh okay so you think anarchy is the best way to go? To let weaker ghost get stomp down on by the strong? Let crazy people like Walker stomp around the place setting up their own barbaric laws?” Tucker began to raise his voice.

“Not again,” Danny groaned.

“No, I am against what Walker does, and anarchy isn’t the solution either! The ghost should come together and form a collective! That way they can decide the rules for themselves amongst themselves. That way nobody is left behind or is forgotten about.”

“Sam,” Tucker said.

“Yes?”

“That is communism”

“Exactly! Communism is the only ethical system of government! Down with the old class systems and usher in a new age of equality between the workers! I mean ghosts!”

“Yes, yes we get it Sam you read Carl Marx once,” Danny sighed.

“No Danny, think about it! Think! This is the perfect moment to establish a communist system in the ghost world! You can establish it using the power granted to you, then you can distribute it among the other ghosts, bringing them up to equal standing with the king! But there will no longer be a king, just another comrade! Plus you can get rid of Walker’s unfair prison system and free all the innocent ghosts who just wanted to see the human world again!” Sam ranted.

“That … sounds almost perfect Sam, but let me ask you this? What happens if another ghost like Pariah Dark comes around and tries to take over?” Danny asked.

“If all the ghosts in the ghost world have banded together to bring peace and order, they can also band together to take down any threat that comes along the way! One ghost cannot defeat a hundred ghosts.”

“One issue Sam,” Tucker smirked. “The first time Pariah Dark rose to power no one could stop him, and it took a bunch of the most powerful ghost in existence to band together and put him in a coffin,”

“A sarcophagus.” Sam said.

“What?”

“He was sealed in a sarcophagus, not a coffin.”

“Sarcophagus, coffin, whatever. He was sealed away in a fancy death box by some of the most powerful ghosts to ever exist and then Danny came in a mech suit and did it again!”

“If Danny can do it in a mech suit (no offense Danny,) then a hundred ghosts in a hundred mech suits can do ten times as fast!”

Danny ran his hands through his hair. This argument had been on repeat, going on and on, till Danny put a stop to it. It started with Fright Knight ramming his horse into the side of Sam’s house to announce Danny would be the next ghost king, and talks about communist revolution and whatever Tucker was saying; had become an almost daily ritual. If Vlad suddenly appeared and began to smash Danny’s head against the wall that would ALMOST be better than hearing this.

In the center of Danny back became hot and stingy, like there was a pair of lasers that had drilled themselves towards his core. Giving in, Danny slowly turned his head to see Ghostwriter peeking out from the end of the hallway. His eyes had turned a violent hue of blood red. His lips mouthing the words, “ You are too loud” . He exaggerated his lips to display a set of secondary fangs, hiding under his green gum line. Danny spun his body around like a top. Placing hands on his friend's back he gave a quick, “Hey let's do this somewhere else!” Before dragging his friends further into the deep hues of the library. The trio passed by bookshelves and glowing cobwebs of all shape and size until Danny was satisfied with the distance.

“Yo, where are we?” Tucker asked.

Around them the books had turned into leather covered tomes. The florescent lights above had shrunk and slimmed into metal hands holding lit blue candles that lined the wall. Around the flames hung painted portraits of those long forgotten; a woman with red boiling flame hair, a man with crystal hair and a ticking eye, and a boy with clothes as deep as the night sky stars above them, into a painted green ceiling. The green painted swirls warped around each other as the old labels hung around the castles painted upon green clouds. “The Dark Kingdom” and “The Kingdom of Dragons” were the first places that caught his eye. Sam touched one of the books, only for layers upon layers of multi-colored dust to blow into her face.

“Fuck! How old is this place? And when was the last time they cleaned? The ice age!?” Her words were punctuated by coughs.

“I don’t know,” Danny said, his eyes trailing along the shelves. Some of these books weren’t in English, nor did they look like any modern language. He ran his finger down one of the spines and tried to pronounce the ghost speak written on its surface, but it came out like malformed garbles. It didn’t make any sense to him, a horse on the sun? No, maybe it said horse with sun legs? That didn’t make sense either but his tongue was getting tongue tied trying to figure out what it said.

“Where did Ghostwriter even find this stuff?” Sam shoved the book back into its spot, the dust had now turned her black clothes green and blue.

“I don’t think he did,” Tucker said. “Look at the ceiling, see how it says Land of Ice? If you compare it to our map it is only a few miles from the Far Frozen?”

“And what does that mean?” Danny said.

“Well if you look at how old everything is and compare the two maps, the only thing it can be is a map of the ghost zone!”

“But that can’t be because there is only one map of the ghost zone, and that is the infinity map.” Sam said.

“The infinity map changes to reflect the ghost zone, but look this one isn’t moving at all. It looks like someone tried to make a normal map of the Ghost Zone.”

“That means Kingdom of Dark is-” Danny started.

“That has to be Pariah’s old kingdom!” Tucker finished. “Wow! That must have been huge! Compare it to our map. It would've covered almost everything we know. Look! It covers Walker’s prison, Skulker’s Swamp, this Library, and even the Far Frozen!” Tucker held his map above him, his eyes switching between the two.

“The Far Frozen? Does that mean he used to rule over it?” Sam said.

“Yeah, whenever this was painted, Pariah Dark must have ruled over the Far Frozen. That probably explains why they don’t like him too much.” Danny said.

“Well even if he didn’t rule over them, I don’t think they would’ve liked him anyways. It doesn't seem like the old king had many friends.” Sam said.

“My Dad once said that the loneliest place is at the top,” Tucker said.

“Your Dad also says that nothing is better than bacon. Not even sex,” Sam said.

“He’s not wrong!” Tucker laughed.

Danny was silent, he looked above to the map with his lips pressed together in a grimace. He imagined himself on the throne in Pariah’s keep, the crown and armor hung loosely around his body, its clangs and clanks resounding around the empty room. He was there alone. He floated to the ceiling and examined the map in greater detail. His friends called out for him but he waved them off.

His hands grazed the old paint as names of places that no longer existed silently let him pass them by. The map was larger than it looked on the ground. Every nameplate was twice the size of his torso and painted in gold. It was an impressive piece of art, or propaganda. His hand ran over something cold, but not ice cold. It was more of a hollow cold, as if the warmth had been sucked out of it by a machine. Grasping the object he yanked it out of the ceiling, leaving a small hole next to the “Nightmare estate” plate. The object was a glass ball filled with black inky goo with white sparkling dots. Around the center of the ball was a gold band lined with rubies, engraved on the gold was a phrase similar to the old ghost speak he saw before. Mouthing out the mouths he read “left of the eye of star” he considered it more gibberish.

“Hey guys,” He called out. “Look at this!” Floating down the ball slipped from his hands and crashed on the old wooden floor. “Fuck!”

“Jesus Danny, are you trying to kill us?” Tucker jested.

“No I was just-”

“Hey guys!” Sam yelled. She pointed to the broken ball, the ink was rising. Its black body rose in the air like a bubbling volcano spurting ink everywhere before exploding and surrounding the three in darkness.

The white sparkling dots began to glow brighter and brighter, till they were bleeding. Then they began to spin around them. The white light formed new solid bookshelves and wooden floors. Ghost flew around them pulling paint buckets to and from the center. They all looked like they had come from a renaissance fair with their loose and colorful clothing, splattered with water and paint. The sounds of construction rose in volume until the scene was complete, it was the library, but the cobwebs were nowhere in sight.

“Woah! What happened?”

“Danny what’s going on?”

“I don’t know, hey watch-” A ghost flew through him, not phased but flew through, as if he was air. “This is weird.”

“It’s like we're not even here,” Sam said, running her fingers through a pile of paint buckets.

“Maybe it's the other way around. Look everyone is all blurry and faded at the edges.” Tucker was right, each ghost and object around them was blurry at the seams. It was like everything had jumped out of an out of focus picture.

“Danny! Behind you!” Sam yelled. Behind him was a tall pale figure with curled purple ram horn on top of his head, and a coat made out of the night sky itself hung around his exaggerated arms, pooling like ink around his feet. “It’s Nocturne!” Instant took its chance and Danny shot several bright green blasts at Nocturne. But, like the figures around him they passed through him. Nocturne strolled past them with a sly smile painted on his face. His height put him at least three heads above everyone in the room. The sounds of work grew in volume as Nocturne passed the other blurry figures, their faces pointed towards the ground and away from the dark tower wandering about.

“What is he doing here?” Tucker asked.

“I don’t know.” Danny replied. They watched as this new blurry Nocturne made his way up a nearby stairwell and into a side room. “But he can’t be up to any good. Let’s follow him

#Danny phantom #Chapter 1 #king Danny #King Danny AU #Fanfiction #Cost #Ancients #Clockwork #Sam manson #Tucker Manson #writing

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charcoalhawk · 1 year

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A flight without feathers

A persons wings can change any number of times throughout their life, some keep the same wings they were born with, some people change over a dozen times throughout their life.

Fourth fic for the 2023 Phic Phight. Prompt was from @seaglass-skies: Everyone is born with wings unique to them, a reflection of themselves. But that means the wings all have one thing in common - they disappear when a person dies.

Grandpa Walter loves rules.

“No dessert before dinner”, “no flying after dark”, “no roughhousing near the fine china”. He had a whole whole whole lot of em. But they mostly made sense. Danny remembers sneaking out to fly after dark back home once, and almost hitting a power line because he couldn’t see it in the dark.

Grandpa Walter also let them have the most fun. He’d take him and Jazz way way way up high with his giant eagle wings and let them glide back down.

His wings are so big, he remembers one night they had all been visiting aunt Alicia and Dad had been able to hide completely behind grandpa when Aunty had chased him around trying to preen his feathers.

Danny’s wings are still pretty small, and he still needs help to actually get in the air. Jazz had just had her first solo flight on her sixth birthday, and not two weeks later Danny had got to see someone’s wings change.

Danny remembers the day his sister’s wings changed. As long as he could remember they had been these pretty red wings, almost the color of her hair, but those last few weeks after cleanings there had been these darker feathers appearing in their place.

Mom called them iridescent, Danny just thought they were shiny.

Danny liked Jazz’s new wings, and he could tell she did too.

Finally, they went up for their weekly visit to their grandpa, and he helped Jazz finally clean her primaries and the last bit of her molt, leaving these beautiful dark blue-green feathers in their place.

“Let’s fly, let's fly!” Danny cheered, hopping around the circle of feathers on the ground.

“Maybe later,” grandpa carded a careful hand through Jazz’s new primaries, “now come on little blue-jay, little red, let’s head inside, if your hands are washed in three minutes maybe we can have some ice cream.”

“But that name doesn’t fit me anymore!”

“Oh you're right! Maybe over ice cream we can look up your new wings and find a new nickname.”

———

Danny knows grandpa is old, he sees it in the way he sits down and in the gray in his hair in feathers.

But, his mom and dad are old! He doesn’t get why sometimes his parents keep telling him and Jazz to remember how old grandpa is. When he asks Jazz she tells him it’s because grandpa isn’t the healthiest, so they might only have a few more years with him.

For a long time Danny doesn’t understand, he sees his grandpa every week and he always is the same. Maybe as the months go on he has to fly less because he can’t carry them both, but then mom can’t carry them both either anymore, so he can’t see what the big deal is.

But, all feathers fall, eventually.

—————

His mom gets the call right as they’re about to leave for school. Danny is glaring at Jazz because she stole his last pancake while Dad tries to clean the toaster oven on ectoplasm after he accidentally knocked a can of it over with his wings.

Mom reaches for the landline as Danny snatches Jazz’s last piece of bacon in retaliation.

“Oh” Mom’s voice cracks. Her wings droop like they’re full of water.

“Maddie?” Dad looks up from the toaster, his wings starting to fluff up.

She ignores him.

“Yes, yes absolutely.” His Mom seems almost transfixed with whatever the person on the other end of the phone is saying, “Do you need help with-? No, no yes I understand. Send me the address and we’ll be there.”

With that Danny can hear the phone go dead, and for a second the kitchen is filled with the sound of ruffling feathers.

Mom finally looks to his Dad.

“It’s, my dad passed away last night, Alicia found out when he didn’t call her this morning.”

“Grandpa’s, he’s gone?” Jazz asks, pushing her chair back to stand up.

“Yes.” Danny can start to see tears in his mom’s eyes, “I’m- Alicia said he,” she can’t finish.

With two large steps his Dad is completely covering her with his wings as he hugs her, but Danny and Jazz can still hear her muffled sobs.

His Mom almost never cries. Danny can remember her crying when he flew for the first time or when Jazz’s wings changed, but whenever they got hurt she would always be strong.

Oh, Danny realizes. His Grandpa is gone.

They don’t end up going to school that day.

————

The church they arrive at is huge.

Mom looks uncomfortable as they walk inside, shifting with her pressed shirt as they walk down the entrance.

Danny has only been inside churches a few times, mostly when extended family visit for a holiday. Mom says they’re going to meet with the person in charge of Grandpa's memorial service because aunt Alicia needed to do some last minute things.

Dad had gone to get Jazz from a friend’s house so it was just him and mom there with the person who was in charge.

The woman waiting for them seems very nice. She smiles at both of them, and doesn’t get angry when mom can’t smile back.

Mom asks him to stay in the main hall, but the woman had said that Grandpa was in the main room, and Danny just has to see him.

The door isn’t locked, and when he peeked inside the room was empty except for the chairs and the box, the coffin, on the other side of the room.

Grandpa’s coffin is so small.

Mom had told him not to touch anything, but Danny just had to look. The last time he saw Grandpa he had been just fine.

As he approaches he sees that the top of the coffin is off, but he still can see inside because of the elevated platform it’s on.

After a moment's consideration he hauls one of the chairs, and uses it to look into where his grandpa is.

He doesn’t know what he expects to see, but one thing becomes very clear as he looks down at his Grandpa’s still form. Because now Danny understands why they could make the coffin so small, it’s because his wings are gone.

He remembers mom saying that when you died you lost your wings, but to him it always sounded like it was something that took a lot of time, like how mummy’s didn’t have noses because over the million billion years it took for them to find them their wings had slowly gone away.

The only thing that makes sense is if someone stole his wings.

Danny remembers a movie he saw, very late one night after his Grandpa had thought he had gone to bed. In the movie the police had found someone murdered in their own home, body completely unharmed, but the second they saw the body they knew the person was dead because someone had taken their wings.

Danny busts out of the room and runs towards the woman his mom and now dad are talking to. As he gets closer he can see the woman is still smiling, which only makes him madder.

As he finally reaches the group he hears his dad start to ask where he was, but Danny has something important to do.

He winds up his foot, just like Jazz taught him, and crashes his foot into the woman’s shin.

He pours all the rage and grief his little body can handle into the kick, and then he can’t say anything because his throat closes up around his tears.

“You- you stole Grandpa’s wings!”

“Danny, what on earth are you talking about?” His mom has crouched down to him, as his dad apologizes to the woman and Jazz looks towards the room Danny came from.

“”Honey,” mom’s voice catches like when she first told them that Grandpa had died. “A person’s wings disappear when they die, once the heart stops and the brain stops thinking a person's wings fade away in a matter of minutes.”

“But that doesn’t make sense! Grandpa’s wings were real! My wings are real! They can’t just disappear! They’d have to decam- decome- rot for them to disappear!”

“I’m so sorry kiddo,” his dad’s large hand rests against his still ruffled feathers. “We should have explained it to you better after it happened. We thought we had prepared you for what your grandpa was going to look like, but we should have made sure you really heard what we were saying.”

Things calm down after that. The woman doesn’t seem mad that Danny kicked her, which only makes him feel worse. When they enter the room properly as guests start to arrive Danny can’t bring himself to look at the other end of the room.

The entire service Danny has to sit in the back of the room with his head buried in Jazz’s shoulder. He can’t stand to look at that tiny box that is supposed to hold his grandpa.

————

Danny finds out dying sucks.

He can still hear the whine of the portal powering up every night. There are times he can’t concentrate because his limbs hum like they’re connected to a live wire.

And that’s not even getting into the fact that he can somehow become a ghost at will.

The worst thing though, is the fact that he lost his wings.

At least, they disappear when he’s Danny Fenton. Danny Phantom, on the other hand, is a ghost with wings.

When he first wakes up it’s to his parents' horrified screams. He’s rushed off to the hospital, and doctors do just about every test under the sun to try and figure out what happened to him.

He finds out that it’s very rare to lose one's wings and survive. Usually whatever let’s wings manifest is pretty good at judging what’s alive and dead, seeing as coma patients never lose their wings even without brain activity.

But it is possible.

He meets Vlad, an old family friend who also now lives without wings.

Of course, the guy also turns out to blame his dad entirely for the accident and tries to get Danny to be ‘his son’ because he’ll understand him so much better than his dad and mom ever will now. So, he doesn’t think they’ll be bonding any time soon.

The first time he transforms, the first thing he notices is the familiar weight of wings on his back.

They’re not his dark raven wings, at least not fully. Some of them look like they have molted back into his childhood blue, which makes no sense in Danny’s opinion.

He finds he can make them intangible with minimal effort, because the last thing he needs is to give his parents another target when shooting at his ghost form. While around other ghosts he tries his best to play it off as a ghostly mutation, but none of them are fooled. Not even Plasmius has wings, so he knows it isn’t a halfa thing, just another thing that makes him a freak to both sides.

At least his wings are useful in a fight, letting him fly faster.

Most ghosts are at least indifferent to his wings, having been dead so long they seem to have lost how it connected them to life. Some do care, Skulker has made it no secret that he’d like to pin his wings on his wall along with his pelt, which still makes Danny queasy.

It’s as he’s releasing the annoying hunter into the zone for the nth time that he senses a new ghost approaching.

Most ghosts only hang around the portal when they want to try and cause havoc in the human realm, so Danny already doesn’t have a good feeling about this.

The ghost is moving towards him at a leisurely pace, but even from this distance Danny knows they’re strong.

His wings itch from having been kept intangible for so long, he might have to use them to make a quick getaway if the ghost tries to attack while they’re all still in the zone.

The ghost looms. Danny knows he isn’t the tallest guy, but the other ghost has him beat by at least four feet.

“What are you doing here, boy.” The ghost’s voice is very monotone, “according to section 23G subsection 122-456A you are in violation of zone haunts and will need to-“

Yep, definitely getting out of here. With a flick of his wings he zips back towards the portal entrance, wings flared in an attempt to deter the other ghost from following him.

But then the ghost stops dead, staring at Danny intently.

“Little Blue-Jay?”

#danny phantom #phic phight 2023 #team human #no beta i die like danny #maddie fenton #Walker #jack fenton #jazz fenton #wing fic #Walker is Maddie’s father #death #mourning

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redrobin-detective · 3 years

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The 101 Deaths of Danny Phantom

AO3 link

One of the first things people learned about dealing with ghosts, other than not to try and date them, is to never asks about their death or obsessions. That doesn’t mean the citizens of Amity Park aren’t curious though, especially about their resident ghostly hero and the confusing and concerning comments he sometimes makes.

“Are you okay?” Phantom asked Maisie as she shook and tried to hold back tears after that car had almost slammed into her. She sometimes joked about getting hit crossing the street of her college campus to pay her obnoxious loans but it was another thing entirely to almost experience it herself. Maisie was nearly twenty, she shouldn’t be comforted by someone younger than her little step sister but here she was, shaking like a lead and leaning into Phantom’s comforting, chilly touch.

“Sorry,” she stuttered, “thank you, I’m sorry I’m just-”

“Hey, it’s okay to be upset that was very scary. The thought of dying is very scary.” Through her adrenaline and her tears, she took in the ghost’s unnatural glow, his faded, barely visible appearance and the fact that he was floating a foot off the ground. Maisie knows this ghost, this boy, knows more than she ever could about death.

“And getting run over by a car sure is a bad way to go,” the ghost kid chuckled awkwardly, taking his cold hand off her shoulder to scratch at the back of his neck. “You should see how my dad drives or my mom or my sister if she’s running late enough,” Phantom paused in thought. “No one in my family should have a license now that I think about it. Anyway,” he dismissed with a wave.

“My sister and I were getting ready to head out to school and my dad was backing out of driveway too fast and didn’t see us and uh, luckily I got my sister out of the way in time haha,” Phantom trailed off awkwardly. Was it because of the uncomfortable conversation or because he noticed her dawning horror.

Her best friend ran the community college’s Phan club so Maisie was a member by default. Phantom’s death was sometimes talked about late at night, everything from wrongful murder to a freak accident. She never in her worst nightmares imagined being him being runover in front of his own house by parental ignorance. It was so normal, a quick mistake and a life lost.

“Oh my god,” he said with an adorable little green blush. “Why am I babbling about that? You almost got hit by a car, I’m probably retraumatizing you or something. I should probably go get the jerk who almost hit you,” he said before disappearing into thin air.

“Tia is not going to believe this,” she whispered to no one. All she knew is that for the rest of her damned life she was going to look both ways when crossing the street. She’d seen first hand what a single moment of reckless driving could cause.

XxX

Matthew, not Matt or Matty or Hughie, Matthew shivered from the cold. He was only in his boxers with little Pacman on them. It had been fine when he’d gone to bed considering it was mid-August but Phantom and this stupid flaming mecha ghost had tussled outside the summer camp he was working at. He could see some of the kids snickering at his state of undress though he was just extremely glad they were alive enough to disrespect him like this.

“Oh man, I’m sorry,” the ghost kid said with big, sad eyes that looked so human despite the fact that they were literally glowing. He looked around at all the snow and ice left over from his fight. “Jeez you guys must be freezing, I wish I could warm you all up but all I can do is make things colder.”

“S’okay,” Matthew said through his chattering teeth. “Teaching the kids how to start a fire was supposed to be next week but we can get a jump on it.” That got a smile out of the ghost and within a half hour, the other counselors were distributing blankets and hot beverages to the kids clustered around multiple fires. They didn’t seem particularly upset by the potentially fatal attack, Matthew will breakdown about that at a later time when he was alone. For now, he just smiled as the children chattered happily with the ghost while he cleaned up as much of the damage as possible.

“So you spend all day fighting ghosts?” Zoe asked with stars in her eyes.

“A lot of the nights too,” Phantom nodded, “I do other stuff but yeah it seems ghost fighting takes up most of my time.”

“Where’d you learn those cool powers?” Zuri asked, miming a punch.

“Comes with being a ghost,” Phantom shrugged, “my ice powers came in later though so I still struggle a bit with them but I’m getting better every day.”

“Why ice though?” Morris said with his cocked curiously to the side. “I see some ghosts use fire or shadows, why do you have ice?”

“Ah that’s a little personal,” Phantom chuckled but his posture was easy despite the invasive question. “Specialty powers like my ice require special circumstances and a certain uh connection to the ghost. Someone like me couldn’t use fire or electricity or plants, ice is in my soul, it’s who I am.”

Matthew paused in drinking his lukewarm coffee as a horrible thought came to mind. He’s been an outdoorsman all his life, practically from the time he could walk. He’d been a deep woods camping guide for a decade before switching to working at summer camps. But the years working in the relative comfort of a stable camp didn’t erase his knowledge of how unforgiving and deadly the woods in the winter could be. A grown man, much less a young teen, would freeze to death in 20 minutes if it was cold enough.

It made sense for ghosts to develop powers related to their deaths. Had Phantom been one of the dozens of unfortunate kids he read about every year who ran away in the middle of winter only to found later as a frozen corpse. He eyed the boy’s snow white hair and frigid aura he exuded with mournful trepidation. God, what a horrible way to die.

“I’d get chilly with ice powers,” Tabby said with a shudder, she held out her cup of cocoa. “You want some of my cocoa to warm you up?”

“No thanks,” Phantom said with a soft smile that was warm despite everything. “The cold hasn’t bothered me for a while.”

XxX

Ghost attacks may be the norm but, if there was one good thing that came out of whole mess it was the fact that violent human crimes went down drastically. So when the rare murder did happen, the shock and fear rippled through the whole town.

Stanford Newton had only been sheriff of Amity Park for eight months after the last guy had gone gray overnight and moved to Florida the next day. It was a daunting position but one he bore proudly. This wouldn’t be his first murder investigation having initially cut his teeth as a beat cop in Chicago but it would be the first in Amity. And it certainly was the first in which the dead served in an active capacity.

“Amanda Chastain, 27. Officially she was a waitress down at Spengler’s Diner but she’s been picked up for prostitution twice in the last year,” Stan said calmly, ignoring the cold, angry presence over his shoulder. “History of polysubstance abuse as well, not that either of those things mean she deserved this.” Used, beaten to death and then dumped in the trash like yesterday’s paper.

He wondered if she’d come back a ghost or if she’d finally get some peace this world hadn’t offered her. “We don’t have many leads right now, I’m afraid. Acting illegally as they are, there’s not a lot of resources these poor girls have to turn to.”

“I’ll find them,” The Phantom said with blazing conviction, his voice thick and sharp as ice. “I’ll find and bring them to justice and make sure no one else is hurt again.”

“I believe you,” Stan nodded, shutting his notebook as he finally turned to face the teenage superhero haunting his town. He can’t say he liked what he saw. The Phantom looked even less human than usual, his aura flaring and flickering like the foggy mist before a heavy snowstorm. His unnatural green eyes glowered, painting his too young face in a terrifying light.

The kid looked furious, clearly taking this death to heart. He’d read the Fenton’s memos about obsessions and such but this seemed beyond that. “But don’t hurt anyone to do it, or yourself while you’re at it.”

“I won’t, I’ll make sure they’ll face human justice and don’t worry,” Phantom gave a snarling smile. “No mortal can hurt me, not like this,” he growled causing the hairs on Stan’s arms and neck to stand on end. He flew off after that, presumably to track down Amanda’s killer.

“Not like this,” Stan mumbled to him, pulling out his handkerchief and wiping his brow where a cold sweat had broken out. “Jesus Christ that poor kid.” Stan had seen plenty of murdered and mutilated bodies in his lifetime, some of them even kids. He just never got to talk to them after they’d had their life forcibly snatched away. It would explain the ghost’s near fanatical determination to save others, why he took a stranger’s murder so personally.

“I hope your own murderer is behind bars,” Stan said as he tucked his handkerchief back into his coat pocket. “Or even six feet under, for killing a good kid like you.” Stan made his way back to his squad car so he could head back to the station and move forward with the official investigation. But he’d eat his hat if there wasn’t a stammering lowlife there by tomorrow ready to turn themselves in.

Maybe after all this was settled down, he’d delve into some of the cold cases stacked in the cellar. Maybe in there he’ll find a picture of a smiling, carefree teen who’d disappeared and returned with the power now to ensure no one else suffered as he had.

XxX

“Yes, I know about the Phantom,” Luis Oliveira will say to anyone who so much as brings up the ghost kid. Locals know better by now but the tourists eat it up every time. He twists his finely combed mustache and gestures to the floor where his audience is standing. “He died right there oh ten or eleven years ago.”

Luis has worked his way all across the the United States since he emigrated from Brazil in the 70s. He finally settled in Amity Park about twelve years ago. He’d never intended to stay in the small Midwest town but the fatal shooting of a young customer kept his little corner market open.

“He was a nice kid, always said hi to me and paid in exact change. Was big fan of the snacks I made, would stop by after school and take half my inventory. He had big brown eyes and a crooked nose,” Luis would smile at the memory before closing his eyes and frowning sadly. “One day, he came late. His teacher made him stay after to go over a failed test, I remember he complained. He was pulling out his money when robber burst in, demanding my money. I fumbled for the register key, dropped it. I bent down to grab it and I hear shots going off. Two over my head, another right into the boy’s throat.”

Luis will hear the sound of that sweet boy’s guttural choking sounds as he drowned in his own blood until the day he himself died. The robber left after the shot, Luis called the police and held the young man’s hand as he died. The would be thief were never found and Luis never did learn anything about the boy who’d died on his floor for getting hungry after school.

“As soon as I saw Phantom on the TV,” Luis would say, perking up after his moment of somber grief, “I knew it was that boy come back. Those kind eyes, I’d recognize them anywhere. He’s never come here but one day he will and I will be able to pass on my regret on not being able to save his life that day.”

XxX

“I think he killed himself,” Mikey whispered to Lester during lunch period, angling his voice low. “The jocks may love Phantom for his powers but I just know he was one of us, an unwanted nerd. I’ve seen him chatting up a ghost I’m pretty sure is Poindexter, Casper’s suicide kid. They’re probably bonding over their similar deaths and the circumstances that led to it.”

“That’s pretty dark,” Lester whispered back. “I also get unpopular vibes from him but I don’t think he’s the time do uh do that to himself; he’s too stubborn and protective. But I bet he was the victim of a prank gone wrong. Dash locked Fenton in the Janitor’s closet last Wednesday, he got out okay somehow but maybe something like that happened to Phantom. He always looks kind of annoyed at the A-listers, maybe they remind him of old bullies.”

“Nuh-uh,” Clara said, pushing up her glasses with her middle finger. “The ghost kid totally got electrocuted or something. He was fighting that weather ghost and he sent lightning bolts his way and Phantom flinched. He fought the Ghost King and yet a little electricity scares him? It might not’ve even been a lightning strike but something manmade like a machine backfiring or something.”

“Get real,” Mikey scoffed, sipping his milk with an eyeroll. “I’m sure we’d have heard about some poor kid getting zapped to death; this town isn’t that big.”

“We’d have heard about a suicide too,” Lester noted with a wry grin.

“Shut up Mr. I base my theories around Fenton who’s a known weirdo”.

XxX

“I’m telling you, the ghost kid died of some debilitating illness,” Abbie McMillian, retired school teacher and three year reigning champ at the Tristate area’s Daylily Competition. She sipped her tea and spoke with as much confidence as she had back in the day wrangling Amity’s impressionable youths. “The superhero thing is clear wish childhood fulfillment, a chance to live and be free like he never got to in life. You see how happy and carefree that young man looks while flying? Clearly he spent his formative years sick and weak.”

“No way,” Greta von Martin frowned as she aggressively stirred her own tea to show her displeasure. “I worked in a hospital for close to 30 years and I know what chronically sick kids look like and Phantom doesn’t fit the bill. I will agree he’s carefree when he’s not battling spooks but he acts like a stupid teen. I’m telling you, the boy got into his parent’s liquor cabinet or took a few too many of whatever pill was going around his school. Tragic but something that happens every day.”

“Greta, dearie,” Abbie said with a pinched frown. “We’ve been friends since grade school and I love you like a sister but you are wrong and until you admit it, I won’t share anymore of my recipes.”

“You’re just being stubborn because you can’t see what’s right in front of you even after working with kids half of your life, Abbie, love,” Greta sniffed. “And you can kiss my grandson’s help weeding you garden goodbye until you relent.”

XxX

Perhaps one of the most human traits is curiosity, especially about what comes after death. Now the good people of Amity Park know a great deal about the dead so the lives before is what attracts their attention and none so more than the ghost boy. Maybe it’s because he’s their hero or maybe it’s because he’s so young. Or perhaps it’s because Phantom is such a mess of contradictions that it’s very hard to guess how the unfortunate boy met his end. But everyone has their own theories, from the mundane to the fantastic, some with evidence backing them up and others pure poppycock.

But for all their curiosity, as much as it burns them to know, they’ll never ask. They don’t want to risk the powerful ghost’s wrath but, moreover, it seemed in poor taste. The boy risked his afterlife to keep them safe, they couldn’t ask what traumatic and miserable circumstances had led to this point.

And besides, it was so much more fun to look up at ghostly figure as he sped through the skies and wonder.

#danny phantom #my writing #i made a headcanon post and immeaditly said 'i have to write this'#and then I did #tw: suicide mention #there is a non described background death of an OC #opinions are like assholes #everyone has one #and *everyone* has an opinion on how phantom died #some are reasonably close and some are waaaay far off #but they wonder and gossip and argue when the kid cant hear #its human nature

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five-rivers · 3 years

Text

Home

The building that housed Fentonworks had never been normal, no matter what neighbors and real estate agents might profess.

Things had happened there. Deaths. Wild twists of fate and shocking coincidences. People who lived there heard noises, saw things, felt things. Experienced sicknesses with no cause. Were cured of sicknesses without cause. Survived things that should have killed them.

It was a thin spot between worlds. Reality was a rippling membrane, frayed enough for things to shine through.

The construction of the neighborhood itself had been… strange. It happened much faster than it should have, as if there was a whole extra shift of workers on the project.

The townhouse that would one day become Fentonworks had stood out even in that mystery. Extra rooms, a basement deep enough to cause a nasty fight with regulators, features not approved by the architect.

It was a wonder they hadn’t hit any of the water lines or the sewage systems. A wonder- and an impossibility. So, the matter was ignored and dropped.

Then the next owners expanded that impossible basement, building another, secret basement and putting things in the walls- They were criminals, of course. It was expected for them to do illegal things. (Although exactly what they had done was… oddly uncertain.)

(Drugs, perhaps.)

Then, the lunatics. Then, the tiny cult that collapsed in on itself. Then the empty years, dozens of transient ghosts trying and failing to pass through, and the ghost hunters. So many ghost hunters, none of them particularly successful.

Then, the Fentons.

Then, little Jazz.

Then, little Danny.

Danny with wide eyes that saw too much.

And all the horrors that the Fentons could dream up, from living hotdogs to weapons that burned like stars and doors to places that should not be visited.

And this was Danny Fenton’s home.

The Manson estate was an odd case, even for Amity Park. Save for the basement, the entire building they lived in had been transplanted, brick and beam, from Germany.

Rich people were bizarre.

Even the Mansons couldn’t explain it. The man who had done it hadn’t been a Manson. The Mansons, who were relatively new money, all things considered, had purchased it from one of the man’s children. Anything to boost their prestige.

It was fancy, and it was old, a gothic and statuesque mansion worthy of its name. Still, it wasn’t quite fancy or old enough to merit the kind of expenditure moving it had to take.

Hence the rumors, squelched by the Mansons, that the place was haunted.

It wasn’t.

The rumors, however, were enough to get one Samantha Manson interested in the occult. Especially given how hard she saw her parents working to hide the rumors from her.

No. The mansion wasn’t haunted. For all it’s oddities and quirks – which only multiplied as the Mansons added more and more features to it – the building itself was mundane.

(The land it was built on might have been another story.)

And this was Sam Manson’s home.

The Foleys didn’t want to know what Tucker got up to in the attic, but liked to think that, with that one exception, their home was a nice one. It was on a nice street, in a nice neighborhood, just far enough away from Fentonworks to keep both sightings of the Ghost Assault Vehicle and resultant property damage and property taxes to a minimum. Within walking distance of the high school, a supermarket, and a park.

They kept the fridge and pantry stocked. Their food might not have always been healthy – red meat was an element of almost every meal – but it was always available and filling. They made an effort for the dietary restrictions of Tucker’s friends of course.

All the rooms were kept clean and neat. Even Tucker’s, by way of bribes. Everything was organized, everything had its place. Except, perhaps, for the stray shoe or piece of schoolwork.

But that attic.

It really hadn’t been anything, before Tucker asked if he could move his computer stuff up there. Just a storage space, one too difficult for either Angela or Maurice to climb up there often. They didn’t consider themselves old, but they couldn’t call themselves young either. Not with a son Tucker’s age.

Once Tucker had realized the attic was there, he had been fascinated. And, well, once he was old enough for them to not worry about him falling off the ladder, they let him go up.

Some days, it seemed, he didn’t come down.

Better than his faintly disturbing Ancient Egypt phase, where he kept bringing pictures of mummified corpses to the table. Or, worse, the werewolf phase.

And this was Tucker Foley’s home.

Amity Park had claimed the distinction of ‘most haunted town in America’ long before the Fentons opened their portal. In fact, that was the reason the Fentons had set up shop there, in the first place.

No haunted town was complete without at least one haunted house. Amity Park had several. Not to mention a haunted hospital, a selection of haunted schools, a haunted museum, a haunted pool, a haunted crosswalk, a haunted mall, a haunted football field… The list went on, essentially ad nauseum.

Of course, that list mostly consisted of places that became haunted after the Fentons built their portal. But even before then, some places offered their dubious charms to tourists.

Mostly gullible ones. More than half of the claims of hauntings before the portal opened were fraudulent in their entirety. These places quickly went broke and got abandoned when real ghosts started showing up.

One of these was the ominously named Raven House, which stood in the hills on the west edge of town.

The story the tourists of years gone by had been told was that a widower had lived out here, all by himself and that one day, he stopped coming to town, or paying his bills, or even getting his mail. When the mailbox at the end of the long driveway was full, the mailman decided to go check on the widower. What he found was a flock of ravens and a skeleton, entirely picked clean of flesh.

No such death had occurred there, nor in any part of Amity. No such person had ever lived in the house, either. The last owners, before the company that decided to market the house as haunted, were a couple with two children.

It wasn’t until months after the portal started up that it became haunted in truth.

“This place isn’t haunted,” said Danny, panning his flashlight over cobwebbed corners on the ceiling. “I don’t think it ever was.”

“That’s what, strike five?” asked Sam.

Danny shrugged. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Four, actually,” said Tucker. “We counted the hospital as inconclusive, since we don’t know if anyone was there before Spectra.”

Danny nodded. “It’s weird, though, isn’t it? That no one lives here, I mean. It looks like a perfectly nice house.”

“Décor’s a bit… eh. Trying to hard to be haunted,” said Tucker, poking a raven decal on the wallpaper.

“I like it,” said Sam. “Needs cleaning, though.”

“Hey,” said Tucker, “you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking, are you? Because I’m pretty sure that’d be illegal.”

“It isn’t as if anyone else is using the place,” argued Sam. “It could be a great backup hideout, if we ever had to… you know.” She glanced at Danny. “Plus, we’d be doing them a favor, really, keeping things clean and lived in.”

“I think it’s an okay idea,” said Danny.

“Yeah, but you think lots of dumb things are good ideas. Like showing up at a party hosted by people who publicly humiliate you on a regular basis.”

Danny grumbled something about trauma responses that sounded like a direct quote from Jazz and something else about that incident being ages (aka weeks) ago. Then, he brightened.

“We could get one of the little ectoplasm generators to power everything,” he said. “Remember all that stuff we lifted from Skulker and Technus? We could actually use it. Study and test things without worrying about whether our parents will walk in. I mean, your attic is great, but still.”

“Plus, we can have actual lab safety protocols. No offense, Danny.”

“I am the one that half-died in a lab accident, so… None taken.”

Tucker rubbed his chin. “Alright. I suppose I can see the appeal… But if we have stuff that can trace back to us, we could get in serious trouble."

“We’ll be careful, then,” said Sam.

“Anything I take from Mom and Dad has plausible deniability. They’ll assume ghosts stole it.”

“We also need to clean if we’re being serious about this. And get a fridge. And figure out the pluming situation.”

“Fridge is on the list. We have to be careful about the outside, too. If this place is suddenly well maintained, people will notice.”

“Sure, but that isn’t something they’d call the cops over,” said Danny. “They’ll just assume new people are moving in. If anyone sees it at all. We’re pretty far away from anything. But pluming won’t be too hard. We just need to bring our own water. Like, toilets flush using physics. If you dump more water in, they’ll go, no electricity required.”

“How do you know that?”

“I can’t even tell you how many time Mom and Dad blew out all our breakers with stuff in the lab,” said Danny. “You pick up a few things.”

“Well,” said Tucker, swinging his flashlight over to examine a discolored spot on the ceiling. “Then… Home sweet home, I suppose.”

There was a house in the hills in the west hills of Amity Park.

And this was the home of two and a half humans and half a ghost.

#danny phantom #dannymay2021 #dannymay 2021 #dannymay #dannymay day 2: home

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phantomgirl15 · 3 years

Text

Going Angst Week Day 2: Obsession/Instinct

Warnings: implied suicide, gun use, trauma description.

Rating: M Words: 1,649

The halls were almost empty, school having gotten out not long ago. Danny was alone, his backpack slung over his shoulder as he walked slowly to the place he had agreed to meet. His shoes were barely grazing the floor, his instincts telling him that something was about to happen to him, and not something good. He heard a few chuckles from down the hall, his head slowly rising to see a familiar face staring back at him.

"Weston."

"Fenton."

Danny continued to slowly hover towards Wes. He felt the tension in the hallway as he stopped in front of the classroom that was designated for their use. He waved for Wes to enter first. The redhead slowly turned himself and walked towards the desks in the room, Danny following, still feeling the unease that he felt in the hall.

"So why are we here?"

Danny crossed his arms lightly over his chest, waiting for Wes to once again say anything. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand themselves up. Shivers ran up his spine as he saw what was in Weston's backpack.

"Hey. Why do you have that?"

He saw a Fenton ghost gun. His eyes widened as Weston continued to stay silent and put his hand over the device.

"How did you even get that into the school?"

Wes pulled it from his backpack. It hovered in his hands for a moment, Wes looking closely at it before making eye contact with Danny and holding the gun to his face. Danny could feel the laser his mom had installed for aim.

"Tell me why you killed Kyle."

. . .

Danny had been feeling a weird irk in his core all day, it was only a Wednesday, the weekend not close enough. His core pulsated at him to tell him that he needed to go ghost soon. He hadn't had a reason to for a while, all the ghosts avoiding the town for the past week. The town had been almost too quiet.

He felt his head pound for a moment, his core forcing him to feel the irk harder, stronger. He groaned in pain for a moment, the loud commotion in the hallway not helping with what felt like an oncoming migraine. He saw his friends down the hall, waving him down frantically.

"Hey, how's it going, dude?"

Danny fist-bumped Tucker, hugging Sam.

"Eh, you know. Just feeling that urge to go ghost ASAP."

"Why don't you just try ignoring it?"

Sam smacked the back of his head as she walked past him and gestured to the lunchroom that they were scheduled to go to.

"I don't know if I can. It's just... Instinct, you know? It feels like something bad will happen if I don't."

Danny hauled his backpack higher on his back, Tucker snickering a bit.

"Dude, you're acting like an animal. I'm pretty sure you've turned taking care of your ghost half into an obsession."

"It's not an obsession!"

"That's what all people who are addicted to something say."

Sam laughed as they got to the lunchroom and sat down, the conversation beginning to stress Danny out. Sam could feel the cold around him spreading further from his body.

"It's not an addiction. I promise. I think I'll just go for a flight after school."

Tucker felt the static around Danny from the conversation topic's stress. The air around him almost made it feel like he was playing with static electricity. He shivered a bit, the air chilling his spine.

"If you say so. Just be careful."

. . .

"What does that have to do with you killing my brother?"

Wes moved the gun closer to Danny's forehead, Danny raising his hands in surrender.

"Chill, chill. That's the late morning the day it happened. I'm getting there."

"Speed it up."

"I can't if you want the full story."

. . .

School got out, the final bell ringing. Danny sighed in relief, rushing himself home to drop his backpack off before feeling the usual cold, tingly sensation as he let his ghost half show. He breathed deep, letting the air out of his lungs completely, his ghost portion stopping the breathing.

He took a step towards his window, swinging it wide open. Another step and he was floating above the town. He felt the spring breeze and leaned back a bit, his core pulsating calmly. He felt it almost thanking him for giving it time to be free.

"It's not an obsession."

Danny whispered gently to himself, feeling a warm pulse in his chest, almost a heartbeat - which wasn't normal for him. He gasped, feeling the need to breathe out of shock. The warmth grew stronger, Danny feeling the need to use more powers than just flight. He felt his body aching from too much power in his core.

He moved a bit, stretching himself out before flying towards the center of the city. He saw the school below him, a few kids just getting done with practice and study groups. He felt the warmth spreading through his whole body almost making him itch under his skin.

The feel of it was unbearable to Danny, he almost felt the need to protect the city.

"Oh god."

Danny ran his hand through his hair, his glove getting lost in the white mess on his head.

"It is an obsession."

He felt a few muscle spasms, felt his ghost half begin to act more like a ghost than a human, the one thing he always tried to prevent. He felt the ghost's anger, rage burning through him, no longer feeling that he was in control of himself. He fell the pull of the ghost, the fangs he always kept hidden sliding out and showing themselves.

Danny felt his body dive, closing in on the school at a rapid pace. He found a room in the building, one student left. He didn't even care who it was. He saw that it was a redhead, assumed it was one of the Weston's. He no longer cared which one. It was going to be hell for him now that he couldn't control his ghost portion.

. . .

"That tells me nothing."

Danny became flustered, not certain why Weston was expecting more.

"I... I blacked out. I don't remember what happened after that. I woke up the next morning to my alarm for school in my bed. I can't help it that I had ghost instinct."

Danny paused for a moment.

"Because I couldn't control it anymore. Because it's an obsession."

Wes let the gun charge, making sure it was pointed dead center in Danny's forehead.

"You couldn't control yourself? I had to see that he never came home. Because you killed him. At school. His blood was all over the floor, the walls, the ceiling. I had to be shown that video footage. I... school couldn't happen until they managed to clean that up."

He swallowed harshly.

"Because you couldn't stop yourself, I had to lose part of my family. This school will never be the same. Nothing will be the same."

Danny opened his mouth, wanting to defend himself.

"It might be your "obsession" to take care of your ghost half, to let it have its ghost tendencies... But that doesn't overpower my obsession to reveal your secret to the whole town. Whether I die or not."

Danny felt the warmth again, felt his fangs slide out. He felt the power of his ghost half spilling into his human half. Wes stepped forward again, his hand tremoring a bit from fear. He felt the sweat on the back of his neck, cold drips running down into his shirt.

Danny's core glowed, a white light showing from inside his chest. Wes noticed it. He noticed the white rings that appeared at the waist, hovering for a moment before revealing the white-haired ghost boy. Wes felt the hands that grabbed him, pushing him against the wall, not even having been able to see how fast it had moved to grab him.

"You think, that I care? I'll just let my ghost become the new me. Nobody liked Fenton anyway."

A small laugh erupted from Danny's throat. Wes tried to gulp down some air, his lungs almost refusing.

"What are you gonna do about it?"

Wes raised his forearm slightly, the gun still charged. He saw the laser on Danny's shoulder.

He pulled the trigger.

Danny fell backward, grabbing his shoulder and hissing. Wes pulled himself back up, his shoulder aching from the recoil that made him hit the wall harder. He charged it again, Danny rushing hard at him, he pointed, his eyes closing as he pulled the trigger again.

Wes's eyes opened, slowly, one at a time. He saw the gaping hole in Danny's chest, right where the glowing had been. Danny had frozen entirely, his mouth hanging open, hands reaching for his chest. Wes saw the face change from anger to shock. The pain crossing his face, the body collapsing on the floor. He saw the white rings again, and now the human Danny was lying on the floor, the same hole in his chest, his eyes glassed over.

Wes felt his jaw quiver, a small breath being all he could get in. Tears ran down his face, the Fenton's ghost gun being charged one more time. He pressed the small button on the back, the almost unnoticeable button, the charge switching from green to blue. Wes pressed the trigger, collapsing to the ground, his tears stopping as he slumped up against the wall. He looked to the security camera, knowing that Danny would be revealed after this mess. The school could no longer keep it a secret.

"I'm sorry."

Wes barely pushed out his last few words, his brother once again in front of him, smiling and waving to him cheerfully. Wes smiled, seeing his brother again was all he had wanted.

#fanfic #Danny Phantom #going angst week 2021 #Fanfic writer

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geekgirles · 3 years

Text

Your Heart

Chapter 4 -- Stalemate Word Count: 8284

READ ON AO3

Waking up to the sound of her parents’ latest invention going awry was something she was sure she was never going to get used to. Never mind that she’d have an entire life to get accustomed to it or her newfound respect for what her family did for a living.

As disciplined as Jasmine Fenton was, being awakened by an explosion was never going to be anything but annoying.

Sighing resignedly, Jazz yanked her covers aside and got up, ready to start a new day. After showering and getting dressed with a long-sleeved, white dress shirt, a black ribbon tied tightly around its collar; a matching black, a-line skirt over thin grey tights; a teal blazer over her shirt, and brown ankle boots (which went well with her brown leather shoulder bag); she first made her way down the stairs to her parents’ lab.

Absent-mindedly combing her pixie cut with her fingersーa decision she made after 18 years of rushed haircuts due to having been covered in some sort of unknown ectoplasmic goo after an invention explodedー, Jazz cut straight to the chase. “Let me guess, your latest invention just ‘malfunctioned’”, she air-quoted.

As she expected, Jack and Maddie were hunched over a metallic device that had definitely seen better days, if the smoke coming off of it was any indication...What she wasn’t expecting though, although she should have, was her dad’s answer. “Actually, that was just the Fenton Toaster. We were about to start the day with a healthy, ghost-kicking breakfast, when she failed on us.” Had she been sixteen again or literally any other person in the world, Jazz might’ve actually been taken aback by the fact that her dad was tearing up over a toaster. Then again, she was Jazz Fenton and this sort of thing from her dad was as common as him yelling obscenities about ghosts. “Oh, dear friend. We hardly knew ye!”

Rolling her eyes at his dad’s antics while her mum patted his shoulder in an effort to comfort him, Jazz muttered, “Dad, that toaster’s almost as old as Danny…” Who, by the way, was going to be ecstatic to learn the dreaded toast-drying machine from Hell had finally been vanquished.

Speaking of her little brother, “Where’s Danny, anyway?”

Again, to any other family in the USA but the Fentons, that question would have seemed stupid. Danny was a college student who lived at his university’s dorms with his best friend, so the chances of him being around his childhood home during the school year were pretty slim. And, again, they were the Fentons, and her little brother had been going back and forth from his dorm, to Fenton Works, to the Ghost Zone (not like their parents knew, or even needed to know, about that one…) since he first got into APU.

Maddie left her weeping husband’s side to pick a wrench up and start working on the toaster again ーpoor Danny; it seemed the evil, toast-drying machine from Hell was harder to get rid of than Vlad. “Sorry, sweetie. You missed him while you were doing your research. Your brother was here yesterday; he said he came Sunday night because he couldn’t find his dorms’ keys. But he’s back at college now.”

She suddenly stopped tinkering with the busted toaster’s inner workings, taking off her goggles from her face, a pensive expression plastered on her face. “Hm...I know Danny’s always been a little distracted, but he keeps losing his keys. At this rate he’s going to end up sleeping on the street just because he can’t get inside his own home!”

Recovering from his temporary loss of composure over the Fenton Toaster ー“I love you, guys, but it’s a miracle this family hasn’t been studied by professional psychiatrics already. Not like I didn’t give it my best shot…”, Jazz thought to herselfー, Jack was soon standing right beside his wife, towering over the pile of scrap metal with a matching pensive expression of his own.

That couldn’t be good.

“Now that you mention it, sweetcakes,” he said, “you’re right. Danny’s always losing stuff!”

“Right?” Maddie insisted. “Don’t you remember, back in his first year of high school, when his English teacher, Mr. Lancer, called you over because Danny’s pants kept falling several times just that week?”

“Uh...the memory’s a bit blurry, Hon, but I know what you mean.” In truth, Jack didn’t remember any of that. All he knew was that he suddenly found himself chaperoning a homecoming dance. If only there was a way to get your memories back like those keychains that you attached to your clothes… And then it hit him. “I know, Maddie! Why don’t we make one of those keychains that you attach to your clothes so you won’t lose them for Danny?”

His wife beamed at that. For all his scatterbrained-ness, Jack truly was a talented inventor with a creative mind. Just a fuzzy head. “Oh, that sounds marvelous, honey! I’m sure Danny will love that!” She exclaimed before quickly pecking him on the lips.

Unbeknownst to her parents, Jazz grimaced in worry at the idea. Back when she was sixteen, or any other day, really; she’d have been overjoyed at the idea of her ghost-hunting parents creating something that was absolutely non-ghost-related, but since said idea would make it more difficult for Danny to keep his secret from them...She was just glad she was in town to look over him. Trying to appear supportive rather than dismayed, Jazz chirped, “Yeah, great idea, Dad...What are you going to call it? The Fenton Keychain?”

“‘The Fenton Keychain?’” Jack parroted before scoffing. “Of course not, Jazzy-pants! I was thinking something more along the lines of, ‘The Fenton Fermoir’!” He announced, striking a dramatic pose.

The blue-eyed young woman started at that, taken aback. “Wait, ‘fermoir’? Isn’t that French?”

“Yes, it’s an adjective that means ‘that which closes.’”

Gaping at her dad, Jazz blinked. And blinked again. And blinked a third time for good luck. “...you know French?”

This time, it was her mother who answered her, laughing her question off. “Oh, yes. There’s more to us than just ghost-hunting, you know?” Then she and her husband laughed together at her own joke.

“Could’ve fooled me…” Jazz mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing! Um...oh, right. So Danny’s not here today, huh?” Her parents shook their heads. “That’s a shame, I wanted to ask him how things were going with...um...with, you know, school and all that. Oh, well! I’m sure he’ll tell me some other time.”

Jack and Maddie exchanged a glance. Ever since Danny started going to high school, their kids often acted weird. At first, they blamed it on adolescence, making them want to make an identity for themselves outside of their parents’ influence but not knowing exactly who they truly were, either. But the fact that their eldest child was 23, their youngest 21, and they still acted like that sometimes was a bit concerning.

The wrench in her hand long forgotten, Maddie made her way to her daughter’s side. She draped an arm around her shoulders, not noticing that said arm was the one holding the aforementioned wrench and that she was unconsciously pointing at Jazz’s face with it. “Honey, is there something about Danny we should know about?”

Jazz panicked.

Yes.

Yes, there were so many things about Danny they should know about.

They should know their kid had gone through a terrible accident that changed his life forever at the tender age of fourteen. They should know he got ghost powers he spent agonising months trying to get control over. They should know he only ever wanted to protect innocents from ghosts and yet, he was labeled as a menace by the very same people he was trying to look after. They should know he’d not only been carrying the burden of being Amity Park’s unofficial protector since he was fourteen, but also became the king of an entire dimension and could count the people he could rely on with his hands. They should know he went through his very first serious heartbreak because the girl he liked hated his ghost half more than she liked him. They should know their college best friend was a fruitloop who wanted to kill Dad, take Mum from him, and either kill or adopt Danny; because, really, it all depended on the side of the bed Vlad woke up on.

They should know their only son was risking his life even more now because he’d made a deal with the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park who, judging by what Danny had told her, was the embodiment of a death sentence.

And he’d been carrying all those burdens and responsibilities, facing constant danger, making decisions not even full-fledged adults would find easy to make, and had been aimed at with ecto-blasters by his own parents since he was fourteen. Being Danny Phantom had stolen some of the best years of his life away from Danny Fenton.

And they had no idea of any of that.

But how could they, when Danny refused to tell them the truth?

Every time Danny faced a bigger threat than dealing with ghosts of the same caliber as the Box Ghost, Jazz tried convincing him to come clean to their parents. Because, what if they never saw him again after that battle? What would she tell them, then?

But Danny would not budge. And, Jazz remembered, she couldn’t blame him. With the entire town, barring a dedicated fan club, and a good chunk of the Ghost Zone against him, how could he risk losing one of the very few places he could call home? Just like she told him when he asked her why she never said anything about his secret, it was his secret. Only he could talk about it with Mum and Dad.

“Jazz, honey? Is everything alright?”

Her mother’s voice broke her out of her stupor. She must’ve spaced out for a while, for her parents were looking at her worriedly. Flushing sheepishly, she cleared her throat. “Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry. And don’t worry about Danny either. He just…” What was that excuse he told her he’d use if anyone started asking questions again? Oh, right. “He’s just busy working on a paper to help me with my own thesis, that’s all.”

Okay. So not only was it a lie, but it wasn’t exactly what Danny told her to say, either. Her little brother decided to respond saying he was suddenly very interested in the occult because he was writing a paper on a seminar he’d signed himself up for, but since she went back to Amity Park to study the witches there, it was still a good excuse.

Said excuse seemed to calm her parents down, before they fully registered her words and they seemed worried again. But, she knew, this time they were worried for her.

“Uh, Princess? Are you sure you want to focus that thesis of yours on...witches?” Jack asked warily, looking up from the remainers of the Fenton Toaster.

The redhead rolled her eyes in annoyance; there they went again. “Your father’s right, sweetie. While not necessarily a bad topic...erm...it’s not exactly the easiest one to research.” Her mother tried to discourage her gently. “For starters, most of the records we have are nothing but speculations and hearsay… I mean, the Salem witch trials were mostly based on unfounded accusations!”

How two of the world leading experts in ectology, who defended the existence of ghosts long before their theories were proven correct, could be so convinced there was no such thing as witches was beyond her. Arbitrary scepticism, much?

Jazz had to admit, she understood her family’s surprise when she opted to focus her thesis for her Cryptology class on the legendary women. A psychology undergraduate, a woman convinced of the infallible nature of the scientific method since birth, and an aspiring psychologist since she was sixteen, it was understandable that her decision to minor in Cryptology would come as a surprise to...well, everyone.

But protecting your half-ghost little brother from the shadows for the last seven years had a way of making you question everything you once thought you knew.

After all, if such a thing as ghosts weren’t only real but had an entire dimension for themselves, then who was to say such a thing as magic-wielding women couldn’t exist?

The moment Danny told her and Tucker he planned on asking them for help at the beginning of Fall only cemented her decision. It was a real pity Danny refused to disclose the supposed location of the Amity Park clan for her safety.

“Mum, Dad, I’ve told you already. It’s precisely because of all those myths that I want to study them. For all we know, all those potions that are always mentioned in folklore could just be really advanced medicine. Are we really going to turn our backs on the scientific community like that?”

“And that’s a great idea sweetie! But…” Maddie tried reasoning with her, but nothing came to mind. Awkwardly, she turned to her husband and whispered harshly, “Help me out here, will you?”

Jack didn’t need to be told twice. “What your mother’s trying to say, Jazz, is that, if there was evidence on the existence of witches, we’d already know. Don’t forget, your ancestor, John Fentonightingale, was a celebrated witch hunter during the time of the Salem trials. He was an admired and respected member of his village, but the only thing he ever did was send innocent people to be burned alive.

“When he eventually realised what he’d done, he spent the rest of his life lamenting his shortsightedness; rejecting the fame and glory his witch-hunting days had brought him. And even if he ultimately turned to ghost-huntingー”

“Goodbye, fame and respect.” Jazz mumbled.

“ーthe hole in his heart caused by his actions would never be filled again.” Jack finished his tale with a morose expression, hoping Jazz would understand what he was trying to say.

She didn’t. “Okay, that was a very moving story with a valuable lesson on the dangers of letting fear and paranoia overtake us. But what does it have to do with me?”

Still standing by her daughter’s side, Maddie tried comfortingly rubbing her arms with the hand that wasn’t holding the wrench. “We’re just trying to warn you not to jump to conclusions, because you might regret it.”

Okay, that was it. Her parents were in no position to warn her against jumping to conclusions; they lost that right the day she finally understood they’d been unknowingly talking about ripping their own son apart ‘molecule by molecule’ ーright in front of him. Jerking away from her mother’s touch, she put her hands on her hips as she sent them her most meaningful look.

“For the last time! I’m not going to try and, I don’t know, rally up the entire town against the witches! I just want to study them. You know, learn about their culture, about the origins of their abilities, about the differences between fact and fiction...” she shot them a pointed look as she stressed that last part. “I just want to understand them!”

“But you don’t even know if they exist!” Jack protested as she made it to the stairs.

Hearing her dad’s comment, she turned to face them once more. Oh, she knew they existed alright, that much Danny had been able to clue her in. What she didn’t know was where to find them. But she couldn’t tell them that. “Well, that certainly didn’t stop you from building a ghost portal to another dimension you weren’t even sure existed! And it sure as Heck won’t stop me!”

That last comment should be enough to get her parents off her back for at least a couple of days. But the conversation had put her in a bad mood, something that didn’t happen since she learned to appreciate her parents’ ghost-hunting abilities, or, when it was Danny who was being pursued by them, their lack thereof. Stomping out of the house and slamming the door closed behind her, Jazz angrily made her way to the usual starting point of her quest.

The Amity Park Public Library.

The large granite building was supposed to be completely white, but the decades since it was built had washed out the stones, making them look grey-ish instead. The several steps leading up to the entrance were flanked by two lead lion statues resting atop a block of stone each. The front of the building, on the other hand, was both decorated and supported by numerous columns, with two of them at either side of the wooden door.

Despite the impressive sight, what truly mattered lay behind its doors. Walking inside, Jazz let herself be washed over by the smell of ink and paper so characteristic of the library. Wherever she looked, hundreds of books stood proudly on their shelves, some of them so high up that the only way to reach them was with the help of stairs.

Scattered around the library were several tables and plastic chairs where the visitors could sit to read their latest acquisition or work on the projects that brought them to the library in the first place.

Breathing the scent in, Jazz walked over to the little counter located right at the entrance of the library, where the librarian would usually be working on her computer. Whenever she wasn’t out and about organising books, that is.

Jazz waved at her with a smile. After coming to the library to study for years, she was basically a regular by now. “Good morning, Wilhelmina!” Wincing at her unintentional high-pitched tone, she lowered her voice to barely a whisper. “How’s everything around here?”

Looking up from her computer, the pudgy woman smiled knowingly at Jazz before willing her chair to get closer to her. “Good morning, Jasmine. It’s been so long since I last saw you; when was it again, two days ago?” Wilhelmina joked as she leaned in closer to the redhead, intertwining her fingers as her elbows rested on her desk.

Jazz flushed slightly at the harmless jab. “What can I say? You won’t get rid of me so easily!”

“Don’t I know it…” There was something odd about the way the librarian said those words, but the redhead decided to let it go. It was probably nothing, either way.

“I wanted to ask you if you could recommend a book onー?”

“On witches?” The auburn-haired lady finished for her. Seeing the young woman’s embarrassed hint of red on her cheeks, she chuckled. “Oh, don’t be so surprised, my dear. You’ve been asking for the same thing for almost a month now! It’s just nice seeing someone retain some sort of interest for this old place and its books. Nowadays, most people just come here to surf the net for free.”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about me for a while, then! So, the books?”

Leaning back on her chair, Wilhelmina pointed to a faraway aisle. “Try the History section. I’m sure there’ll be a journal or something to help you with your paper.”

Jazz flashed her a charming grin, “Thanks, Wilhelmina. You’re the best!” As she turned her back on the librarian, Jazz failed to notice the dark grin that made its way to her face.

Once Jazz was out of earshot, Wilhelmina said, “Oh, you have no idea,” the twisted expression never leaving her face.

As she walked around the library’s endless halls, Jazz couldn’t help but be grateful for having Wilhelmina as the librarian. Any other person would have looked at her like she was crazy or a Satanist murderer in the making for researching the occult so much, but never Wilhelmina. The woman just smiled at her and tried helping her to the best of her abilities. If Jazz had been looking for information entirely on her own, she’d have stuck to a particular section of the library, but Wilhelmina was always recommending a broader search. And, Jazz couldn’t help but think, it was a smart choice. One never knew what they could find or learn if they listened to different experiences other than their own.

Standing in front of the shelf where the history books were, the aqua-eyed woman began scanning for something that might help her clear up the fog surrounding the group of witches Danny might be facing from now on. If she could just find out where their hideout was supposed to be… Not only would she be able to study them, but she might even convince them to ally themselves with her brother for good!

Ever since she was a teenager and found out about her brother’s secret, Jazz was determined to focus her thesis on the effects such circumstances could have on him. But as time went by, she came to understand that would be impossible. Writing a thesis on Danny’s very unique circumstances would be akin to exposing him, and she couldn’t do that to him.

Because he trusted her.

Danny’s number of enemies increased tenfold by the day, while his allies followed a much more stagnant rhythm. Goodness, he couldn’t even get his girlfriend to give up ghost hunting for him! She and Tucker were the only two people in all of Amity Park he could rely on.

And there was no way she’d ever betray that trust.

Which, sure, was a very meaningful proof of the love and bond between them, but still left Jazz without a topic for her thesis. So when Danny revealed his discoveries on the existence of witches, of all things, she was ecstatic.

The possibility of a magical species living in Amity Park was perfect on many levels. On the one hand, it would expand their knowledge of the paranormal, with the added bonus of finding potential alternatives for everyday problems. And on the other, it gave her the perfect excuse to stay close to Danny and make sure he was safe. With her in town, he wouldn’t have to make up excuses as to why he slept in Fenton Works when he already had a perfectly nice place to stay at APU. All he had to do was phase through her room to get to his.

And, most importantly, that way he had somebody else he could talk to about his double life. He was going to need it if he’d indeed managed to establish a truce between the spellbinding women and ghosts. From what he’d told them, those sorceresses were vile.

As she walked over a nearby table carrying a pile of books with both hands, Jazz couldn’t help but wonder how her little brother would handle the situation.

.............

Danny was not handling the situation well.

Although, it wasn’t necessarily his fault. Lady Arcana’s own unwillingness to cooperate was a key factor in their stalemate.

Even if they addressed each other formally and obvious jabs directed at their respective species were, thankfully, non-existent, the coldness between them that reigned during their first face-to-face interaction was now stronger than ever.

Just like the last time, he’d sent Skulker to escort the queen and her entourageーwhich still consisted of the same two witches; talk about confidence…ー through the Ghost Zone up until they arrived at his lair’s throne room. They still pretended they were both honoured to be in each other’s presence even though Danny was sure the Witch Queen wished she could just spit at him as much as he did.

And knowing Desiree, if she were near to grant her wish, a cascade of spit would rain down on him.

This time, however, Danny had ventured deeper inside his lair, with the witches close behind him. Figuring discussing over inter-dimensional safety in the middle of his throne room would be unwise, since one never knew who could be watching, he led his guests to the Council Room; where the Observants, Clockwork, and heーand occasionally Frostbite or any other ghost with a modicum of authorityーgathered to discuss political affairs regarding the Infinite Realms.

Admittedly, he wanted to slap himself for not thinking about it sooner.

Another thing that was different and he had failed to point out earlier was that, technically, the witches weren’t alone. No, there was nobody else besides the queen and her two...guards? ーcould he even call them guards?ー but they weren’t alone per se, either.

The bespectacled, strawberry blonde one had a pet owl perched on her shoulder. The bird, Danny had to admit, was beautiful. Its plumage was predominantly white and cream. The white feathers were more noticeable in its belly and heart-shaped face, with most of its body and the top of its head looking rather creamy. The owl’s black orbs seemed not only capable of seeing in the dark, but also deep inside your soul.

In other words, the girl’s pet was pretty, but creepy. And he had a feeling that would be a stable of these women.

The Asian teenager seemed to prefer reptiles, and, yes, he based his hypothesis entirely on the fact that the girl had a bearded dragon around her neck as if she was wearing a scarf. Danny couldn’t tell what was creepier; the lizard’s naturally spiky, scale-covered body and its little tongue licking its eyeball, or the way the witch scratched her pet’s chin and cooed at it when she thought nobody was paying attention to her.

“Well, it could be worse. She could buy herself a cat and name it after a married woman who will never love her back.” Danny had to physically restrain himself from shuddering at the thought.

But the weirdest thing, of course, had to be Lady Arcana’s own companion. Which, again, he was sure was going to be a stable between them. At first he didn't even see her carrying anything, her form obscured by her cloak, but the moment they entered the Council Room ーalone; Lady Arcana had stationed her witches to guard the doors, just as he did the same with two of Walker’s goonsーand she made herself comfortable (or as comfortable as she’d ever be in enemy territory), he spotted it.

Had she really brought a potted plant with her all the way from the portal to his lair? And, now that he took a closer look, was that a carnivorous plant?

Scratch whatever he said about the teenager and her lizard. The way the plant nuzzled her face or wrapped itself around her forearm as she gently stroked its stem was ten times creepier. Although, a part of him couldn’t help but think she and Undergrowth would get along swimmingly.

Two plant-loving psychos bonding with each other. Talk about a meet cute.

But never mind their questionable taste for pets. They’d been discussing for over an hour and they were still at the starting point. Time was money and this woman was going to make him go bankrupt if they kept going like this.

“Your Majesty, I understand the situation is quite...extraordinary, but I’m afraid we are still in need of a solution.” He tried for the umpteenth time that hour.

The woman before him just sniffed in displeasure. It was a good thing they were separated by a rather large, rectangular table, otherwise, he might have leaned forward and wrung her little neck out of sheer exasperation. “I am perfectly aware of the situation, King Phantom. But, as I have informed you already, there is not much I can do if I do not know the cause of the portals opening.”

But that was precisely why he needed her help! Getting frustrated, Danny let out through gritted teeth, “Which I believe is precisely the reason why I need you here in the first place, my Lady. You are supposed to be able to discover the reason behind it.”

“Well, supposedly, these portals are a natural occurrence of the Ghost Zone. How is it possible that you do not know how to take care of the problem on your own?” She countered, matter-of-factly, and Danny would have given about anything to get her to shut up and do something useful instead.

“Supposedly,” he echoed, “your people have the natural ability to surpass the laws that separate the Infinite Realms and Earth from each other, and hence, youーshouldーknowーhowーtoーcounterーit!” His voice raising in volume as he spoke, he made sure to punctuate that last part for emphasis.

Narrowing her violet eyes at him in disdainーhow could he have ever thought they were beautiful?!ー, Lady Arcana spat. “Supposedly, that bond was tattered after your kind’s betrayal.”

If it weren’t for the audacity of her statement, he would’ve recoiled at the gravity and resentment etched into her words. Narrowing his own eyes at her, he leaned forward. “Trust me, your Majesty, you would be wise to keep your mouth shut; you are in no position to talk about betrayals.”

As her scowl deepened, teeth borne at him in anger, a low growl could be heard emanating from her throat. But Danny was not going to be intimidated that easily. Returning the intensity of her gaze, the two kept eye contact, initiating a staring contest born from frustration and distrust.

Eventually, the Witch Queen averted her eyes, crossing her eyes in a huff as she leaned back on her chair. Her little plant reacted to her turmoil, for it hopped over to her ーwait, it hopped?!ーto get her attention. Noticing her weird-ass pet near her, the witch began to absent-mindedly caress its little, purple...head?

He was never eating a salad again in his life; he ought to let Tucker know he’d decided to join him in his carnivorous ways.

Leaning back against his own chair, Danny pinched the bridge of his nose, exhausted. They’d been at it for more than an hour and, rather than discuss a possible solution, all they’d done was argue. Sighing through his nose, he called out to her, an idea forming in his mind, “Hey.”

Taken aback by his sudden drop of formality, Sam looked over at him with a guarded expression. What was he up to? Rather than answering, she raised an interested eyebrow as a sign to go on.

Danny took that raised eyebrow and her silence as permission to continue. “How about we drop the honorifics and formality for a while, huh? I don’t know about you, but I’m a rather laid-back person and having to address someone as if I was meeting the Queen of England tends to stress me out. And that by extension makes me much more prone to get defensive.”

Sam bit back her reply that she was, in fact, as much of a queen as the Queen of England, and that he should treat her as such.

“And let’s be real; getting defensive with each other is going to get us nowhere, don’t you agree? Besides, I’m already stressed out as it is due to a matter regarding a black hole forming, so I bet I’m not the most agreeable guy to be around right now.”

“No, you aren’t”, Sam was actually surprised Phantom shared her beliefs about formality and social distance. But that didn’t mean she was going to lower her guard around him. And his last words took her completely by surprise. “...did you just say ‘black hole’?”

“That’s not something you should concern yourself with.” He dismissed the question immediately.

Squinting her lavender eyes at him, her suspicions of any ulterior motives never quite going away, Sam gave in. “What are you getting at?”

At least she was listening to him. He was willing to count that as progress. Danny raised his palms up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, we don’t know for how long we’re gonna have to work together. So how about we’re at least casual with each other? Because, I don’t know about you, but all this higher register of speech is giving me a headache.”

As if to prove his point, Danny rose up in the air until he was comfortably floating about three feet high. As he leaned back, his arms crossed behind his head and one leg over the other, nothing would’ve wiped the smug look on his face as he looked down on the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park, her own jaw hanging low in awe.

Noticing the smugness radiating off of him in waves, the raven-haired girl forced her jaw shut. No way in Hell was she going to give him the satisfaction of amazing her. Even if she wasn’t going to say it aloud, Sam concurred with his point. Straightening her back, head held up high, she made sure to bruise his ego the same way he almost bruised hers. “Fine. Let’s drop the honorifics, I was tired of pretending I have any respect for you, anyway.”

Danny frowned at that. “Hey!”

“What? Do you seriously expect me to believe I’m not in immediate danger of being attacked by a ghost just for the mere fact of invading their turf? That you and your people actually respect mine?” Her voice was laced with cynicism as she scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

As much as Danny would’ve loved to contradict her, he knew he couldn’t. After all, he hadn’t just sent Skulker to escort them in fear they might get lost, the possibility of them being ambushed by vengeful ghosts was very real.

The raven-haired girl smiled triumphantly, knowing she had him right where she wanted him. “If it’s any consolation, if any of you so much as tried stepping foot, or ghostly tail, or whatever, into our territory, not a single one of us would hesitate to exorcise the Hell outta you.” Motioning to the door with her head, she added. “Susan in particular would have a blast.”

“Susan?”

“The teenager with the bearded dragon; Count Scalynton”

“‘Count Scalynton’?” Danny echoed in disbelief, before having to stifle a laugh with his gloved hand. Seeing the Witch Queen’s unamused stare, however, he sobered up. “And...uh...what about...the owl?”

“That’s Spooky.” Lady Arcana replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

“And your little friend?” He asked hesitantly, pointing at the potted plant comfortably perched on its owner’s lap, but making sure his finger didn’t get too close; in fear of getting it bitten off.

“Oh, this little guy?” Sam looked down at DeMilo with a fond smile. “His name’s DeMilo.”

“...are you serious?”

“You got a problem with that?”

“No! No, no. Of course not! DeMilo is...uh, a great name.” He quickly assured her, sheepishly. The last thing he needed was to invoke her wrath, again. Clearing his throat, Danny decided it’d be best to change topics. “So...No honorifics?”

“No honorifics.” Lady Arcana nodded from her chair.

“Right. So, instead of ‘your Majesty’, ‘my Lord’, or ‘King Phantom’, you can just call me ‘Phantom’ and Iー”

“You can just call me ‘Lady Arcana.’” The Witch Queen cut him off with a tone that left no room for discussion.

The white-haired young man slouched slightly at that. Just when he thought they were making progress, she closed herself off completely all over again. But he couldn’t afford displeasing her further, so he’d have to play by her rules...For now. “Right. Got it. So...about those portals?”

As he asked that, Phantom leaned forward to her, changing his position mid-air so his torso was facing now upside down but his head remained straight. As the Ghost King lowered his body so his forearms were atop the wooden table, an intrigued gaze directed at her, Sam deposited DeMilo on the table, her own hands resting on it. Locking eyes, they had each other’s undivided attention.

Understanding they were back to business, Sam sighed tiredly. “I wasn’t lying when I said I need to know the cause behind the portals’ strange behaviour. If this is something that can be solved through magic, then it is imperative that we know what’s causing it to figure out the best course of action to take. The wrong spell could lead to disastrous consequences.”

“Like?” Phantom raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Like sending the world to another dimension instead of closing a portal between dimensions.”

“I guess that makes sense. So how do we figure out the cause?”

“I can start by looking through this.” Sam offered as she, seemingly, got a book out of nowhere, Phantom’s eyes widening at the sight. The reddish-brown leathered book was the same one she used to open the portals to the Ghost Zone, which made it their safest bet for finding a solution. After all, if the book guarded almost forgotten knowledge on how to open inter-dimensional drifts, then it should have the answers to more mysteries, right?

...............

Outside the Council Room, on each side of the door, Stephanie and Susan were patiently waiting for their queen. Well, “patiently waiting” might have been an exaggeration. Stephanie was stiff as a board, while Susan looked like a furious guard dog, the murder in her eyes only cemented the picture.

Both witches’ emotional state could only be attributed to one thing.

Ghosts.

Or, to be more precise, the two police-dressed, green spirits they were forced to stand guard alongside because the Ghost King wasn’t about to be caught dead (pun not-intended) with three witches and no back-up.

As much as she hated it, Susan had to give the spook credit: he wasn’t nearly as stupid as she thought.

The teenager kept stroking the length of Count Scalynton’s body, currently sprawled alongside her arm, as she pondered different ways to escape the Ghost King’s lair and his ectoplasmic, door-floating, bloodcurdling realm in case things went awry.

Beside her, Stephanie was lovingly scratching Spooky’s beak in an attempt to calm herself down. Looking over at the ghost-guard assigned to her, she squeaked and promptly looked away when the spectre, having felt her gaze on him, landed his blood-red, pupiless eyes on her. Gulping loudly, she whispered to Susan. “Do you think her Majesty will be frequently meeting Phantom from now on?”

Susan whispered back with a sneer. “I hope not! Miss Wilhelmina was right when she warned me against these putrid, soulless drones. We can’t lower our guards, especially not now that the queen needs us.”

Discreetly pointing with her head, the Asian girl guided her partner’s gaze to her hips. Lifting her red hoodie almost unnoticeably, the strawberry blonde’s eyes widened at the sight; two crossed, leather bandoliers were filled to the brims with an assemblage of jars containing colourful liquids. Stephanie’s jaw almost fell open in shock; the 17-year-old girl was armed to the teeth with potions!

Realising they weren’t alone and the dangers in their secret stash being found out, Stephanie tried to appear nonchalant. Pretending to be talking in general, she added. “I just hope her Majesty is safe.”

Susan gave her a wry smile. “Oh, trust me. Her Majesty will be fine even without our help.”

...............

As she skimmed the pages of the spellbook in search of more information on the portals, Sam kept looking over at Phantom, praying he hadn’t noticed anything unusual.

As satisfying as it’d been seeing his bewildered face when she suddenly pulled the book off seemingly out of nowhere, the truth was she’d been carrying it with her under her skirt. But what she worried about was not him finding out about the book, but the other items her dress hid from plain sight.

Strapped around her thigh was a black holster filled with potions. Unlike the arsenal Sam knew Susan had brought with her, which consisted of several offensive and highly corrosive concoctions, the queen’s own collection consisted mostly of Blinding Bombs. As the name indicated, it was a type of potion whose main purpose was to distract the opponent long enough to retreat or come up with a plan. If things went south, all Sam had to do was smash the jar against the ground and cover her eyes, for a small explosion of light would ensue and temporarily blind the spirits, giving her and her girls enough time to escape.

As she leafed through the spellbook’s pages, she suddenly shivered, noticing a cold presence by her side sending shivers down her spine. What was even odder was the sudden smell of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Dumbfounded, she turned her face to the side and growled at the sight. Snapping the book closed and bringing it close to her chest, she snarled at Phantom. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Taken aback by her sudden movements, Danny blinked. “Um, trying to help you?”

He had to be kidding her. “Come again?”

“I...uh...I just thought I could help you look for answers.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “So I was trying to see if I could find anything useful in that book of yours.”

Oh, he definitely had to be kidding her. “No, thank you.” She turned him down, only thanking him out of politeness. She turned back to the book. “You’ll only drag us down, anyway.”

Danny was starting to get really frustrated with that all-knowing, condescending attitude of hers. Even his sister wasn’t as annoying despite her know-it-all tendencies. Hell, Skulker was easier to work with! Standing up in mid-air, using his leverage to stare her downーliterallyーhe folded his arms in front of his chest. “And how, pray tell, am I going to drag us down?”

He was surprised by the witch’s next action. Huffing loudly, she got up from her chair and shoved the book in his face quicker than he could blink. At first he had trouble registering what just happened (mostly because he was levitating a good three feet above her and she was still safely on the ground) until he took notice of the sparkly, purple mist surrounding theーfloatingーspellbook. He blinked in awe; so that’s how her magic looked like. Once the initial surprise had worn off, however, Danny had to admit, he was a little disappointed; he’d expected more than a floating book.

Looking over the tome, he saw Lady Arcana staring intently at him. Instead of anger as he expected, however, an amused, knowing expression adorned her features. He might’ve thought she looked pretty hadn’t it been for the wickedness of her smile.

“Read.” She instructed him.

Danny did as he was told...only to furrow his brow in confusion. What the…? Reading over the pages he couldn’t make sense of anything written on them. The inked markings splattered all over couldn’t even be considered hieroglyphics! Squinting at the offending piece of paper, he tried reading aloud. “Spiral...lightning bolt...spork?...What kind of sick mind came up with this?!”

Sam let out a hollow laugh. “You really think that if you were really able to read this book in the first place all by yourself, you’d even need to call for me?” She rolled her eyes at him, not knowing what to think; either this guy was messing with her head or he was an idiot. She motioned with her hand for the book to return to her “Limit yourself to keeping your subjects in line and let me handle this. Although, on second thought, I might actually be asking way too much of you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The green-eyed ghost didn’t like where this was going.

Still reading, Lady Arcana raised her palms up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, for a ghost that’s supposed to be the undisputable ruler of an entire race after having defeated a tyrant, you sure have a lot of detractors defying your authority.”

“Oh, please! Like you know anything about my subjects or any possible detractors.” Was it true he was often fending off ghosts who didn’t care for his laws to stay clear of Amity Park? Saying he didn’t occasionally get his ass handed to him would be like saying his parents took kindly to people who disrespect their jumpsuits, but he didn’t have to tell her that.

“I know more than enough.” Sam countered.

“Oh, yeah? Name one ghost who doesn’t respect my rule and still causes trouble.” The halfa challenged. What was he trying to get out of this? At least ¾ of his enemies screamed their names and evil plots whenever they were freed from the Ghost Zone! In Ember’s case, she literally depended on people knowing and chanting her name.

“That poacher ghost of yours...what’s his name?”

A poacher ghost? Who the fuck was she talking aboー? “You mean Skulker?”

Sam perked up at that. “Yes, that one! He so obviously doesn’t respect your authority. I mean, he literally hunts you, the Ghost King, for sport almost every two weeks!”

An undignified sound escaped the halfa’s throat, but that was the last of his concerns at the moment. “Okay, first of all,” he started, raising one gloved finger, “he so totally respects my authority. Whenever I need help, he’s always willing to put the whole hunting-the-most-unique-specimen-ever aside for the greater good. And second,” he sent her a pointed look, floating closer to her. He revelled in the way she uncomfortably shrunk away from him; served her right, “Skulker’s not a poacher, he’s a hunter!”

“Does he have a permit or a hunting license?” Lady Arcana asked, not missing a beat.

That actually gave him pause. “Well...no, butー!”

“If a hunter hunts with no permit, then he’s a poacher!” Seriously, how dense could this dude be?

“You seem to be forgetting that Skulker is a resident of the Ghost Zone; my domain. Whatever laws are followed on Earth or among your kind, do not necessarily apply to us.”

“That outta shut her up,” he thought triumphantly.

“So you’re saying you’re okay with innocent creatures dying solely for the purpose of flattering one ghost’s ego?”

Well, apparently not. Danny spluttered at that. Who was this woman anyway, Jane Goodall?! “Whaー? No, of course not!” He vehemently denied before changing topics. This woman was about to get a taste of her own medicine. “But what’s with all these pointing fingers anyway?! I bet some of your ‘loyal’ witches also commit their own atrocities right under your nose.”

Oh, she was going to blast him into next Thursday for that! Standing up from her chair, Sam slammed her hands against the table (careful not to hurt or startle DeMilo, though). “For your information,” she snarled at the ghost before her, “the only huntress in my clan is Diana. And not only is she formidable, sheーalsoーhasーaーpermit!”

Fed up with the ridiculous conversation and the even more ridiculous woman, Danny slammed his own hands down on the table, even if he was floating. “Again with the permit! What’s with you and permits?! What are you, a cop?!”

“I’m a queen!” Sam all but roared. “So, yes, it is my job to ensure certain jobs are only trusted to people with permits!”

Danny was about to continue ranting, but he stopped himself. All this pointless fighting was only making them waste time, and they couldn’t afford that. He didn’t understand how she wasn’t already exhausted from all the arguing. Rubbing his face with his hands, he let himself fall back on his chair. “Let’s...let’s just keep on investigating. Forget I said anything.”

Sam was about to retort when she took notice of the white-haired ghost’s tired eyes, her own fatigue finally kicking in. Slumping her shoulders as she, too, fell back on her chair once again, she continued reading. “Yeah, sure. That’ll be for the best.”

They stayed in silence for a while after that. Lady Arcana reading intently, and Danny praying to all things above him that he’d be able to survive the day. Eventually, the Witch Queen broke the silence, slamming her book shut. His head snapping up at the sound, Danny dared to hope. “Any luck?”

The queen sighed. “I have good news and bad news. Which one do you want to hear first?”

His heart sank. “The bad news,” he moaned pitifully.

“Bad news is, there’s nothing in this book about what could possibly be causing the Ghost Zone to create more portals than usual. The most it has is the spell I use to get here, but that’s about it.”

Danny was convinced his heart was now lost somewhere along his knees. “And the good news?”

“This isn’t the only book that might have information on the Ghost Zone. When our people parted ways for good after you-know-what,” the look of resentment was back on her face and Danny didn’t know what to do; he should be the one feeling offended! “most of our knowledge was forgotten, but not lost.”

“Meaning?” He prompted her to finish her statement.

“Meaning, there’s still probably many more books on the topic.” She finished.

“Which means…” Danny began, only for the two of them to groan in dismay. As nice as it was that not everything was lost just because that particular book didn’t have the answers, having to look for another spellbook or grimoire meant they would have to keep meeting with each other. For Lady Arcana would never leave a precious heirloom belonging to her people out of her sight and in the Ghost Zone, and Danny couldn’t afford to take his eyes off of her in case she and her kind double-crossed them.

In other words, they were stuck with each other until further notice...He was starting to regret not being fully killed by the accident the day he got his powers.

#danny phantom #dp #dp fic #my fic #your heart #danny fenton #sam manson #jazz fenton #jack fenton #maddie fenton #oc #Amethyst Ocean #ghost king au #witch queen au #ghost king! danny #witch queen! sam #enemies to friends to lovers

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anothersadsimp · 3 years

Note

Congrats on 400 followers!! 🤗💙 Could you do a Dan Torrance sfw ABC?

Thank you so much!!!! Of course you can have ABC of Danny boy! This was fun to do and I want to cuddle him now.

A - Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

It takes a while for Danny to open up. He’s had a rough past, and closes himself off to protect himself and others. He always tensed up when you showed any type of physical contact, but slowly started to melt into them. After things became official between the two of you he slowly started reciprocating, but is still nervous about it.

B - Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? Where does the friendship start?)

You guys met through Billy. Most people in town know Billy, he is the quiet sweetheart that does what he can to help out. So he introduces the two of you, the two closest people to him. From there your friendship blossomed and he’d start seeking you out to be around you.

C - Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Danny boy just needs to be held ok? Sweet boy just has so much going on and cuddling with you helps ground him. His favorite cuddle position is where you're on your back, and his head is resting on your chest, your arms cradling his head brushing through his hair. His arms will be around your waist trying to get impossibly closer to you and you tangle your legs with his, which makes him oh so soft.

D - Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking, cleaning, ect?)

He loves the idea of getting a small apartment with you, just something small and quaint. A proper home for once in his life with the one person he feels safe with.

He likes to keep a tidy place, if there is too much of a mess it starts to overwhelm him. He likes cooking, but most of the things he knows how to cook are simple dishes. He likes when you cook food you’ve had when you were a kid, a smile always adorning his face as you cook.

E - Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

This man would have tears in his eyes, but refuses to let them fall. But he would make sure he is respectful and make you realize that it really is him. He doesn’t want you to feel worse than you already do.

F - Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? Do they wanna get married?)

He is very hesitant about wanting to fully commit to you. He loves you, but he has so many demons. He thinks you deserve better than an ex-alcoholic that has mountains of trauma and this weird shining thing that haunts him most nights.

I feel like he wouldn’t feel the need to make it “official” anyways. Just being with you in general is enough for him. He doesn’t need this grand gesture or a piece of paper to show that he loves you. But he will do whatever makes you happy.

G - Gentle (How gentle are they both physically and emotionally?)

Dan emotionally is very rough around the edges, he really does need a bit of TLC. He himself tries to be soft towards you, and give you everything he thinks you deserve in a s/o. He wishes so much he could do more.

Physically he melts in your arms. The moment you hold him in any way he can’t help but smile for a moment and hold on to you tighter, or nuzzle into you. He’s been through shit and somehow his demons keep finding him, but when he is in your arms he feels safe. He’s not necessarily clingy, but he loves being held and holding you.

H - Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it, and what are they like?)

Like I said this man loves to hold you and he loves to be held. His hugs at first are timid, but you always squeeze him as hard as you can in the biggest bear hug you can muster. After you reciprocate his hug he grows more confident in it.

I - I Love You (How fast do they say the “love” word?)

As said before Danny is hesitant about most things because of his past, so it takes a while for him to even think “wow I love this person”. He knows he cares for you and does love you but the thought of really being “in love” scares him a bit. But nevertheless he does admit it out loud when you're holding him one night after a particularly nasty nightmare, or day just needing comfort.

J - Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What are they like when jealous?)

So I feel like during his time he got clean he’s learned to control his emotions more, so it’s hard for him to get jealous. He also trusts you 100% in that area, he knows you and knows you wouldn’t cheat on him. But when he does I feel like he gets a little pouty, and quiet. Once you realize you’ll grab his hand and squeeze it reassuring him that everythings ok.

K - Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He’s usually into the soft kisses, the ones where you both end up melting into each other. Your bodies start to relax with the feel of each other and you can feel the care in the kiss. IMAGINE AS HE LINKS HIS FINGERS WITH YOURS AS YOU KISS SOFTLY

But don’t let the man fool you, when the time is right he will kiss you with a fiery passion. It's incredibly sexy when he kisses you as if he owns you, but this is reserved for behind closed doors.

L - Little Ones (How are they around kids?)

He wasn’t good with kids before, but after working at Teeny Town and Abra he got better. It’s funny because he doesn’t do a high pitched voice like others usually would, but he would talk with interest and curiosity in his voice.

M - Morning (What are mornings like with them?)

So mornings happen differently. There are the mornings he gets up somewhat early to go conduct the train in Teeny Towns, and there are the mornings where he sleeps in a little later after a night working at the hospice center. Either way when one of you gets up you're always pressing a kiss to the top of the others head when they wake, and before they leave for work.

N - Nights (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights are the same as the mornings. The nights where he’s home are spent with the two of you dancing around each other as you cook, clean, or do whatever it is you do in the afternoons. But when he goes in to work, you always pack him some food to munch on later in the night and he can’t help but smile at the thoughtfulness. When he comes home he loves seeing you curled up in your shared bed, more often than not you’re in one of his shirts.

O - Open (When do they open up about themselves?)

It takes a while for him to open up to you. I mean most people think he’s crazy when he talks about the things he sees, or looks at him with pity because of his past. You never pushed him to talk about anything, which is how you gained his trust. Before you guys became an item he told you everything, and you sat there with sad, but understanding eyes. You grabbed his hand and told him that you believed him, and how that it doesn't change how you feel about him. Safe to say he was fighting tears after that and internally SWOONED.

P - Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He gets frustrated but not that angry anymore. But he is also pretty patient, especially with other people. The hardest part is being patient with himself.

Q - Quizzes (How much do they remember about you?)

Dan remembers most things about you, but there are a few things that might slip his mind.

R - Remember (Favorite memory with you?)

His favorite moments with you are when you're cuddling, but one of his all time favorite moments was when you had just got off of work and Teeny Town was full of families. On your way home you walked right up to Billy and asked how you could help. At some point you ended up running around chasing the kids, while giving one a piggyback ride. You looked so happy, as you helped entertain the kids waiting for a ride on the train. He knew you were tired after work, but yet you still came over to help plant some flowers and help the tired parents with their kids.

S - Security (How protective are they?)

Dan is pretty protective, that’s why it took so long to let you into his life. He doesn’t want anything happening to you, and if something happened to you because of him? He’d never forgive himself. He still hasn’t forgiven himself for past slip ups.

T - Try (How much effort do they put in?)

Sweet boy tries. He tries his best everyday with what seems to be the weight of the world on his shoulders. You see that and are incredibly proud of him either way. But when he goes out of his way to do something for you? You feel special. Life is hard already, and extra hard when you have shit to work through. So you always make sure he knows that you appreciate everything he does, even if it's only for himself.

U - Ugly (What are their bad habits?)

Danny boy worked real hard to stop his drinking, but of course because of that he acts a little different when he’s overwhelmed and doesn’t have alcohol to help. The main thing is he really wants to just be alone, and is used to being alone. Learning to trust and have a friend in Billy is one thing, but having a significant other? There’s gonna be a little more work needed.

V - Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He’s pretty lax about his appearance. After he got clean he manages himself a little more than he used too, and after he got with you he tries a littlemore. He takes care of himself more and when you go out with each other he makes sure to look a little nicer for you.

W - Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

I wouldn't necessarily say “incomplete” but more of a loss. Being incomplete is like saying you will be okay again. He’s lost people before and worked through it, but he still feels it like the day he found out.

X - Xtra (Random HC)

After you move in together you realize there’s a cat that roams around, so you guys “adopt” it. You always leave food out and even bought a little bed and put it outside for it. It’s a little white and grey cat with light blue eyes. You named it Spoon, not knowing what else to call it while you washed some dishes. Danny chuckled at the name and somehow found himself calling the cat Spoon as well.

Y - Yuck (Things they don’t like either in general or a partner?)

Danny doesn’t like people who are impatient, or super closed minded. With the things he’s seen and dealt with he needs someone who won’t judge, someone who can believe what he’s been through.

Z - Zzz (Sleep habits)

Dan has insomnia. How can he not with everything in his head? So he doesn’t look forward to sleeping. He has medicine for if it gets too bad, or if he can’t go back to sleep. If you happen to wake up with him you make some tea to help relax the both of you back into sleep. You’ll curl up into each other and pass out watching an old show or movie you both like.

#dan torrance fic #dan torrance fluff #danny torrance imagines #dan torrance x reader #danny torrance x reader #doctor sleep imagine #dan torrance imagine #dan torrance #ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor x reader #sfw abc

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shirtlesssammy · 3 years

Text

4x11: Family Remains

Then:

Castiel, angel of the lord, gripped Dean tight and raised him from perdition. Also, Dean finally unloaded his Hell trauma to Sam.

Now:

Drunken man watches television one night. The lights flicker and his door won’t open. Another door opens to reveal a very ragged girl. A ghost! Long story short: the Home Sweet Home embroidery is going to need a lot of Oxy to get back to fighting shape.

Dean, meanwhile, is taking a page out of the old Sam Winchester-Barrel-Through-The-Trauma playbook and is working cases non-stop. He is not going to talk about Hell. Nope, those feelings are buried real deep again. Anyway, Dean’s found a ghost case in Nebraska.

Sam and Dean head to the now vacant house to check things out. Something behind the walls watches their inspection. The EMF meter is all over the place, but there are power lines. They find a doll head in the closet. Routine bullshit.

Their inspection is interrupted by a family and all their moving gear. Looks like the place was sold. We‘ve got Mom Susan and Dad Brian, Little Brother Danny, Buster the Dog, Petulant Sister Kate, and Cool Uncle Ted.

Sam and Dean approach the family as inspectors. There’s asbestos in the walls and a gas leak. Sorry family, you can’t move in today. The family wants to stay so Dean threatens a fine or jail. The family gives them one night.

Sam and Dean hit the hunt in Fed suits. They interview the woman that found the body of Mr. Gibson.

She cleaned his house for five years but didn’t know him too well. He was private. He had some family trauma: wife died in childbirth and his daughter hanged herself. The cleaner has some pictures of the daughter and gives them to Sam and Dean. She also notes that while there was never any weird light flickering activity, she did hear rustling in the walls. Rats. She never saw them though.

The brothers don’t think the ghost is the mother or daughter so they decide they need to head back to the house to investigate further.

The family, breaking the county inspectors’ orders, decides to move in anyway. Ooohh, a little gas leak and asbestos never hurt anyone, ooohhhHH.

That night (where are Sam and Dean?), the son is busy playing video games, and avoiding unpacking. A ball rolls from his bedroom closet and he looks in to investigate. “It’s okay,” he tells the shadows. Then he plays a fun game of catch with the closet.

Sam and Dean finally arrive, and see the family has moved in. Crap.

Uncle Ted calls the parents into the living room. ‘GO’ is written in large red letters on the wall. How welcoming!

Brian blames Danny instantly. Danny denies doing it, but the parents double down on the blame game. Danny insists that “the girl in the walls did it.” Uh, Danny, not helping your case. Danny CAN’T believe they don’t believe him when they send him to his room (lol, not much of a punishment, he just came from his room). Also, Andy would believe him, so there!

Kate is busy sulking in her bedroom when she starts petting Buster off screen. So, OF COURSE, it’s not the dog. He wanders in shortly after. Obligatory scream session activated.

The daughter tells the parents there’s a ghost in the house. There’s a knock at the door and Sam and Dean bust in after hearing her screams. They tell the family there’s a ghost in the house. Kate is vindicated!

Danny keeps talking about the Wall Girl. Dude, give it up. Buster escapes outside. The lights cut out just as Dean is yelling that they’re in danger. Then they hear whimpering outside. They rush out, and well, I’ll just direct you to this little website for the next scene. There’s blood all over the ground and a note written in blood: “too late”.

Sam and Dean insist the family leave. They race to their cars and Dean finds the ghost did a real number on Baby. All tires are slashed and weapons are gone.

Hell Hath No Fury Like Dean Winchester when His Car’s Been Messed With:

(And for the record, I mistyped ‘car’ with ‘cas’. Still would work.)

Kate sees the ghost in the field.

Sam and Dean can’t figure out how it’s outside. Now stuck on the property, they direct everyone back inside, and into a salt circle. They tell the family that this is what they do. The kid thinks it’s pretty cool that they’re like Scooby-Doo (Dean thinks he’s better --and we know now that his ghost hunting is just different.)

Sam gets confirmation that the ghost is the daughter. He tells the family that she killed herself in the house. Uncle Ted’s better than all this, man, and starts to leave. Dean stops him with the threat of a bullet hole (I’m probably not reading too much into how violent Dean seems in this episode. They’re just people but he’s threatening to shoot the guy? I feel like we’re dealing with the aftermath of Hell for Dean and he’s still there at times.)

Ted decides to continue to needle the strangers in their home who threatened to shoot him. Something creaks in the house and a girl enters the room.

Dean counsels them to stay calm and stay in the salt circle. The girl smirks and...crosses the salt circle, knife in hand. “She’s not a ghost,” Dean realizes, and engages in a one-sided knife battle with her. “Humans,” Dean spits out later in disgust as they try to wrap their heads around creepy, murderous Nell.

Everyone gathers except...Danny. He’s missing! I experience some serious second-hand parent agony. Dean orders Susan and Kate to barricade themselves in the shed while the menfolk (pfft) search for Danny.

Dean and Ted pop open a loose section of wall, releasing the strong smell of rotting flesh. “You smell that?” Ted asks. “Every day,” Dean replies and I die a little inside for him.

Dean squeezes in between the extremely spacious wall cavities and finds A HOLE. He must go in THE HOLE.

Downstairs, there are remnants of dead animals everywhere. But above Ted, something lurks. This is what you get for being the wisecracking brother. Ted eats a knife and bleeds out next to Dean.

For SOMEBODY HOLD MY TRAUMATIZED BOY Science:

Dean reunites with the family and reveals that Ted died. “I shouldn’t have left him alone,” Dean murmurs, STILL IN HIS GUILT COFFIN. Brian tries to reassure his wife that Danny’s been spared by the crazy murder girl living in their house. They reference some oblique, recent family trauma, which Brian later reveals was the death of their eldest son in a car crash. Dean promises to get Danny back “if it’s the last godforsaken thing I do.” GUH.

“Why do you care so much?” Brian asks. Oh, sweet sunshine. It’ll take many seasons to unpack that question.

Sam pulls Dean aside. He’s been reading Rebecca’s diary (as he is wont to do) and discovered that the murder girl was likely her daughter and that Rebecca was raped by her father. “Oh, gross,” Dean neatly summarizes it. “Humans, man.”

Sam thinks that her life being like “hell” is no excuse. “Like you know what Hell’s like.” Dean accuses. OH MY GOD. Also, just give Sam some time, Dean Bean. Urg.

Danny wakes up, bound in the basement. Creepy girl climbs out of one of her holes. She brought her new best friend a fresh rat! When Danny implies (by screaming) that he isn’t hungry, she eats the rat.

Dean insists on hurling himself down a dumbwaiter shaft. He vowed to save Danny. He NEEDS to save Danny!

While Dean’s following a trail of guns to find Danny, murder girl is waging an assault on the shed. Untying Danny, Dean learns almost too late that the girl has an accomplice...her brother.

DOUBLE UGH

Sam and Brian haul Danny to safety while Dean engages in fisticuffs with the brother. Dean shoots the crazed brother in the fight. Meanwhile, Brian drags the girl from the shed and kills her. He confronts his wife and daughter, holding a bloody knife. Erm. Awkward.

The next morning, they fix tires (and Sam methodically arranges the contents of the Impala’s trunk).

The family affirms their unity (and their shared trauma) and sends Dean and Sam back onto the road.

They park under an overpass to eat. Except...Dean sets his burger down. WHEN A DOG DOESN’T EAT AMIRITE? Dean reveals his empathy for the murder siblings. “Lifelong torture” will do that to a person.

Sam tries to assure him. “They were barely human.” Oh sunshine, wrong choice of words. Dean informs Sam that he was worse than them. (“Humans, man,” I hiss to myself.) Dean confesses that he tortured for the “sheer pleasure” of it. “I tortured souls and I liked it. All those years. All that pain. Finally getting to deal some out yourself.” He’ll never fill the hole in his soul, no matter how many people he saves. Excuse me while I think about the series end and allow the dark hole of a murder house to swallow me up.

My Favorite Murder Quotes:

You can’t run forever

The girl in the walls did it

What could possibly go wrong in the country?

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #dean winchester #sam winchester #spn 4x11 #family remains #supernatural season 4

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magnoliapip · 3 years

Text

The Storm Inside

Title : The Storm Inside

Book : Open Heart series (Choices - Pixelberry)

Description : Casey has been pushing everyone away and spiraling since the attack on the hospital and her loved ones are concerned.

Pairing : none established / ambiguous

Characters : Open Heart FMC (Casey Valentine), Sienna Trinh, Bryce Lahela, Jackie Varma, Rafael Aviero, Elijah Greene, Aurora Emery, Kyra Santana, Danny (mentioned), Bobby (mentioned)

Warnings : mention of death, mental health

Prompt : “What’s the weather outside your window doing right now?...”

Casey stared vacantly out the floor length windows into the night sky above Boston from her seat against them on the living room floor. The sky was as clear as could be, a rarity for the area, but in a city as populous as Boston seeing the stars was a gift they were never granted. She stretched out her cramping legs to a different position as she leaned her head and left shoulder against the cool glass.

She looked out of windows with alarming frequency now. She had never really done so before, preferring to always be doing other things. She’d always thought of herself as a social person who enjoyed others company, though she could be either out dancing in a packed club or relaxing away a quiet night in with the same level of enjoyment. Friends and loved ones was all she really needed.

The attack on Edenbrook had changed everything, down to her very bones.

Some days her mood was somber but calm, like a cloudy day. Those were her best days and the ones she liked best. The cloudy days could be darker with threat of rain or lighter with the sun just missing the opportunity to come out. It was the closest to her old self she could feel. Unfortunately for her, those days were not only fleeting and the least common, they were becoming a rarity.

More often, her moods were a range of levels of sadness. All the way from a misting drizzle, enough to coat everything in water and make the air humid, to a torrentially pouring rain. Buckets from heavens and flash floods. The only thing those floods never seemed to leave clean was herself.

Other times she was cold. So, so cold. The best of those days were accompanied with a blizzard. Cold, but manageable with a shovel. On the days where she left her heart covered in an inch thick layer of ice and brandished her words like weaponized icicles, frigid and sharp, the people around her knew to steer clear. She was getting a little too good and stabbing them where it hurt.

Her worst moods felt like she should alert the National Weather Service. Tornado warnings and hurricane evacuations were a courtesy she never felt up to extending, adding to her already astronomical guilt. Like a twister, she could feel so angry and out of control she would tear through everyone in her path with no regard for who or what was in it. She had hurt people, especially the ones she loved, deeply but couldn’t bring herself to stop. It was like watching her body act with someone else at the controls.

It was just one more thing about herself to hate lately, and it had a long line to stand in.

The weather in reality never matched what she felt inside. It fascinated and disgusted her in equal measure. It had been sunny (mostly) since the funeral. It was repulsive.

Bobby was dead. Danny was dead. Raf had almost died and would have god knew how many long term problems ahead because of the illness. She had nearly died. And the world just kept spinning.

Couldn’t they see? Couldn’t any of them see that she was stuck there in that room. That she had never recovered. That she couldn’t recover.

At first, when her friends had noticed her strange new affinity for gazing outside for hours every night, they tried to pull her away. Distract her with things like herbal teas, chocolate ice cream and support. They tried to shower her with her favorite pastimes from before. They tried dancing around the apartment to silly pop songs and playing video games with her. But they didn’t understand. And they didn’t stop.

So she bit them. Hard.

Now they left her alone.

She was an awful person. She shouldn’t have been allowed to live. Someone should have realized it at the hospital and just let her die.

She could feel the tears well up again, stinging her eyes as her inner clouds started to rain again. The night sky outside stayed perfectly cloudy.

It was going to be a long night.

Sienna stood around the corner, watching her best friend shatter silently, as she had done every night for over a month. She whispered to those behind her, “Don’t you all see? Nothing is helping and she’s getting worse. After the last time she panicked when I reached out, I thought I’d give her space. We all did. But it’s not working. Does anyone have any suggestions?”

The gathered assembly of those in the cramped penthouse hallway who loved a young doctor named Casey watched her crumble, weeping without making a sound...and no one said anything. Some of the smartest doctors in the nation, and no one had an answer.

Not Bryce, who stood off to the side watching the pain on the face of the first true friend he’d made while at Edenbrook. Someone who had looked past the brash, self-confidence he used as a shield. The first person he hadn’t been afraid of discovering his past.

Not Rafael, who stood at the back of the crowd, down the hall, not able to stand to look at the person who made him believe he was worth as much to her as these intelligent, talented and more well off friends of hers. Not as she could no longer see how much she was worth.

Not Jackie, who was used to facing her problems by cackling at them until they scurried off with tails between legs or tearing them out with her teeth. But this was a problem that required delicacy, the type she had been shown by the very woman who now needed it.

Not Ethan, who leaned against the wall as he saw his protégé, the first person he’d ever believed in this much, destroy herself. She had forced herself, her goodness, into his life and helped fix his hurt self. Now it was his turn and he, for the first time, found himself at a loss.

Not Aurora, her rival turned friend who showed her at her loneliest that having friend was worth something after all. Not Elijah, a beacon of positivity who felt entirely inadequate with this situation that left her emotionally impaired. Not Kyra, desperate to find some way to give Casey the support she had given. Not Sienna, whose heart broke as she watched her very best friend, her dolphin, her rock in many ways fall further and further into herself.

Each one of them loved her. Each one of them cared for her. Each of them had a purpose and a reason to be at Edenbrook, but Casey was the glue that had held them all together. That glue, their foundation, was compromised. This time, they needed to find a way to save her. This time, she couldn’t waltz her way into a miracle seemingly handed down by the divines themselves to fix the situation.

Giving voice to their silent thoughts, Bryce whispered softer than before, “She needs us. She has to know it. She has to know we’re here somewhere inside, but can’t ask. Won’t ask.”

“We’ve already lost so much because of the attack,” Sienna said quietly. “We can’t lose her now. I can’t.”

“None of us can,” Rafael replied softly.

There was practically a flashing beacon over Casey’s head, screaming help me please. It was long overdue for them to stop ignoring it. For a few pregnant minutes, they all looked around at each other and back to her. This mismatched band of misfits and nerds, bound this night by their affection for one single woman. They stared at each other, desperate for answers…

Until the one who loved her most went rigid. Then stepped toward the rest, speaking slowly.

“I...may have an idea.”

[BREAK]

Notes : I left the ending open for interpretation on purpose. This story is not intended to be expanded on or have a second part. Y’all can decide who the person who loves her most is (and if that person isn’t presently named in my story, you can put them there yourself :D)

Also, I want to extend a heartfelt thank you to the amazing writers I’ve talking to lately. Due to some truly awful comments and the way they were affecting me mentally, I recently purged all of my works but a few from fanfiction.net, AO3, and here on tumblr. Talking to, interacting with, and just seeing you lovelies in action has led me to believe I should start to do this again.

Huge shout out to @jerzwriter and @lovealexhunt for being the lovely souls they are. You may have no idea who I am, especially on this blog rather than my main, but I will never stop being grateful for the positivity you put into the world. Thank you.

#choices #open heart #choices open heart #open heart mc #casey valentine #ethan ramsey #bryce lahela #jackie varma #rafael aveiro #sienna trinh #elijah greene #aurora emery #kyra santana #magnoliapip

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ad1thi · 3 years

Text

2020 fic recs!! [Part 1]

this idea was stolen from @iam93percentstardust cuz i just,,,thought that this year was absolute shit and it would be nice to make a fic rec list of fics from this year that helped me through it. this will be over a range of fandoms and ships, but all fics were written this year.

fics are ordered by the month they were published. ive tried to keep to five fics per month, but this is not obviously all the fics ive read that month - i just didn’t want to make this insanely long.

im releasing the first half of this on the 1st of December, and the second half on the 1st of January 2021 - because otherwise it would just get so long (and also so i will actually have fics for December)

happy reading!! hopefully you find fics on this you haven’t read yet

***

January

The cat is mighty dignified (until the dog comes by): @five-wow

Steve and Danny find them on the pillow in the corner of the dining area, where Eddie is on his side, ass half on the floor because the pillow is more cat-sized than lab-sized, and Pickles is nestled between Eddie’s front legs, essentially being spooned and looking very I-got-the-cream about it. Pickles’ head is tucked into the crook of Eddie’s neck and Eddie’s head slots perfectly on top of Mr. Pickles’, like a furry jigsaw puzzle.

“They’re cuddling,” Steve points out, unnecessarily.

Or: There is a love story unfolding under the McGarrett roof.

Captain ‘Socialist Rage Muffin’ America: @baffledkingcomposinghallelujah

It takes three months of dating Steve Rogers for Tony to understand why Aunt Peggy once shot at him in sheer frustration.

Alternately titled, Honey, I committed treason again.

The Best Laid Plans (Of Mice and Men): @arboreal-elm-ash-oak

His Dark Materials AU

It was Annalise who noticed their small visitor first.

“Tony,” the spider daemon said softly, skittering up the collar of his dress shirt, two of her eight legs resting delicately against his cheek, “Don’t startle them, but I believe we have a guest. Look, by the coffee table.”

Fourteen Million to One: @tunastorks

Six months after Thanos, six months after Tony’s death, six months after Steve returns to his own timeline, Tony Stark turns up on their doorstep.

Brewed Awakening: @iam93percentstardust

Two years after he comes out of the ice, Steve is drifting through life. On his teammate's recommendation, he decides to go back to school where he meets the grandson of an old friend. He finds happiness with Tony but Steve won't be in Boston forever and someone is out to hurt the Starks. Will Steve and Tony be able to reach their happily ever after?

February

the young, the reckless and the foolish: @bruciewayne

In most universes, they don't know each other, not in the slightest, or they hate each other, in a way that's perfectly logical for anyone who were to find themselves in a similar situation.

In this one, they've known each other since they were four years old and naively idealistic.

This is them over the years, against the odds.

a giant sign: @areiton

“Think you can get him to open the weapons division up again?” his CO asks, his voice hungry and Rhodey laughs because this--

“No. Tony hung up his weapons.”

“That’s not what the suit says,” his CO objects, and Rhodey shrugs.

Tony has always had rules, rules he expects the entire world to live by.

And then there was Rhodey, slipping under them.

my heart is driftwood, floating down your coast: @nethandrake

Tonight, there’s a stranger in his backseat. That’s not unusual.

He’s also sad. That’s not unusual either.

What is unusual is that the stranger is silent.

(One night, a stranger enters Steve's taxi. Nothing is the same again.)

Just A Cold: @/delighted

There’s a new text waiting for him. It’s from Steve of course, and it’s vaguely threatening as most messages from Steve are these days. Still Danny ignores it, and now he’s really playing with fire. Maybe it’ll burn the cold out of him.

Or, Danny’s sick, and Steve can’t stay away. The usual comfort fluff. With a little cameo from a gently meddling Grace.

An Unexpected Guide: @/Rachel500

Danny Williams has hidden his Guide status to keep being a detective, but his time of hiding is up when he unexpectedly finds his Sentinel, Steve McGarrett in the midst of a tragedy.

March

Why don’t we (Collide the spaces that divide us): @five-wow

When they finally catch sight of each other again through the milling crowds, they’re both a little worse for wear. Danny’s left side is covered in glitter and every time he brushes a hand over his hair, more blue and purple confetti rains down. Steve is- Well, Steve is randomly shirtless, which is all things considered not excessively remarkable, but he’s also covered in smudges of colorful paint and has a very nicely printed bloodred lipstick kiss mark on his cheek.

“What did you do?” Danny asks, because it looks like Steve had a lot more fun than he did.

Or: Steve and Danny accidentally end up in the middle of something entirely new.

A Little Unsteady: @finduilasclln

Written for the Tumblr prompt meme : "Hey! I was gonna eat that!"

Tony lashes out at Bucky for eating his dessert. Only, it really isn't about the dessert.

a national treasure: @starklysteve

Steve isn't looking for an apple and Tony decides his passion is to inspire young souls. -x- OR: the AU where Tony is a Youtuber and Steve is Captain America and somehow they still save the world together.

April

cycle through: @ambivalentmarvel

Twenty-five years ago, Tony Stark disappeared from his family home a month after the tragic deaths of his parents, Howard and Maria Stark, leaving a billion-dollar tech conglomerate without an heir and the world wondering what happened.

Twenty-three years ago, HYDRA gained another super soldier.

Ten years ago, Peter Parker’s parents died in what is ruled as a home invasion gone wrong but he knows was murder, plain and simple, because he spoke to the killer.

And in the present, Project Insight fails, and the Iron Soldier pays the price.

FOREVER-LOVE YOU-I: @/Eudoxia

Tony Stark is twenty-one when he loses his voice. It shouldn't matter, but in a world where the first words your Soulmate says to you are marked on your skin, it can be pretty damn annoying.

Especially for Tony's soulmate.

Companion piece to my fic Thumb, Index, and Pinky Extended. This is Steve's POV, with a few extra scenes, as a treat.

(Edit: Sorry if you guys get multiple notifications for this. I just realized (about two hours after posting it) that I fucked up the grammar in the title and I HAD to fix it. YOLO, I guess.)

come build a home out of me: @maguna-stxrk

Steve clears his throat.

“What if I went with you?” he asks nonchalantly, like his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his ribcage.

Tony blinks a few times, looking at Steve, his mouth ajar. “As a— As my date?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods, feeling a little breathless.

“You don’t mind?” Tony furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t. In fact, you can just tell them I’m your boyfriend. I’m sure they’ll back off, wouldn’t they?”

What.

“I— Huh?” Tony stares at him, brown eyes blown wide open.

What. What. What.

“Huh? Uh, I mean— You know, that way people will see that you have definitely moved on. Monica will see that you have moved on. Right?” Steve smiles, hoping that it masks his inner panic, because what?

Steve Rogers, what have you done?

i don’t have a choice (but i’d still choose you): @nethandrake

There’s a name inked onto his chest, a name written in an all-too familiar scrawl. And it’s— It’s—

Steve doesn’t realize his body is quaking until he’s tracing the tattoo with a shaky finger.

Because of course that is the name etched into the skin. Like a brand, a reminder for everything he has done. An appropriate retribution.

Anthony Edward Stark.

(When Thanos snaps half of the universe away, he unknowingly leaves the other half with soulmarks.)

ua haʻalele ʻoe iaʻu (a ua hoʻomālamalama ʻoe iaʻu): @just-fandomthings

"The truth is, I was shot in the chest and nearly died, and not even three days after I was released from the hospital, you up and left-- and of those two, I'm not sure which one hurt me worse!"

(Coda to 10x22 because come on, we all need a better ending than the one given to us.)

Title loosely translates to: "You left me in the dark (you lit me up)" -- inspired by the brilliant song "Say You Won't Let Go" by James Arthur

May

A Piece Of The Past: @hddnone

It had been so many years since Bucky had gone undercover in the Stark family's mob, he thought he'd gotten away clean.

Then Tony Stark slid into the seat across from him at his breakfast diner, and Bucky's boss has a new case for him.

the privilege of loving you: @starklysteve

“Why won’t you let me touch you?”

It’s a desperate plea, half-shouted and half-whispered, Steve’s voice cracking at the end. Tony stops in his tracks, halfway to the stairs. He doesn’t dare to turn back, and he really doesn’t want to fight, or to leave, to spend the last month of his life away from his husband and their son. But Steve can’t know, can he?

-x-

Or: Tony has palladium poisoning, but he doesn't tell Steve and Peter

your pillow feels so soft now (but still you must advance): @firebrands

When Bruce is 13, he decides to go to boarding school. It's an opportunity for him to learn about other people, and how to interact with them.

Bruce has the misfortune of meeting Tony Stark upon his arrival in Roxbury. Bruce is moving into his room, and Tony opens the door of his room to watch. He looks a bit younger than Bruce, hair wild and eyes bright. Bruce has never seen a boy like him before—handsome and confident.

Bruce doesn’t like it.

IMPORTANT: This fic has them meeting at 14, then progresses slowly until they’re 17. Includes underage drinking and kissing.

This is set before Bruce becomes Batman and Tony becomes Iron Man and I have no explanation as to how or why they just DO Canonically, Bruce is 17 when he finishes school and goes around the world to train, so we're sticking with that

The Real MVP: @sword-and-stars (part of a series)

[“I have saved this Tuesday!” Sokka announces, rattling the bag upon reentry.

Zuko doesn’t even look up from his phone as he deadpans, “It’s Thursday.”

Okay, so Sokka is still having trouble getting his days right without checking. At least he’s gone back to sleeping at night! Going to bed at night is way easier when you have a cute, cuddly boyfriend who starts falling asleep around eleven o’clock. It also helps that he and Zuko are on solid gold butt-touching terms.

It’s been a while since Sokka has been on butt-touching terms with someone and it’s amazing.]

Or,

Sokka knows a guy, gets laid, and introduces Zuko to the merits of an afternoon delight.

When is a bed not a bed? (When you’re not in it): @riotwritesthings

There’s a tiny safe house, with one tiny window and one tiny couch.

And one tiny little bed.

June

Nice Fingers: @anthonyed

A single compliment given by Tony stirs Bucky restless until he caves in and asks him out on a date.

With Steve’s help of course (whether he likes it or not).

The Darkest Touch: @starkrogerrs

This is the story of how Steve finds that it has been ordained that he is to marry a monster he cannot resist aka the God of Love himself, Tony.

It's Cupid x Psyche retold, but with thrice the amount of porn.

The Night Shift: @weethreequarter

Welcome to the Emergency Department of San Antonio General where Dr. Tony Stark joins the team fresh from his most recent tour in Afghanistan and - much to the consternation of the other staff - strikes up an instant rapport with Nurse Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, new resident Bruce Banner refuses to give up on his patient, and Dr. Sharon Carter learns something from her own patients. Throw in a pissed off hospital administrator, Clint using the coffee pot as a mug again, and a major car crash and you have, well, just another night shift.

Wind Beneath My Wings: @iam93percentstardust

Sam first meets Tony Stark in 2005 when he joins the EXO-7 Falcon program.

In jest: @/apathyinreverie

“No, babe,” Danny shakes his head with a grin. “If the apocalypse were to go down while I’m elsewhere for some godforsaken reason, then you stay put and I’m coming to wherever you are.” His grin widens. “And I expect you to have cleared any aliens or zombies or whatever else might be messing with us off the island and to have set up a nice, comfortable military dictatorship for us to rule over by the time I get back.”

It’s a joke.

Of course it’s a joke.

Until it isn’t.

(A the-day-after-tomorrow-style apocalypse AU, where the world decides to end right when Danny is visiting one of the other islands with Grace. Because, of course, it does.)

#adi's rec list #mcdanno #stevetony #buckytony #brucetony #rhodeytony #zukka #samtony #january - june #there's so many different ships on this #and different authors #and it spans three fandoms #so hopefully you guys enjoy this!!

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anxiousstark · 4 years

Text

S2 02 | Shape Shifted

BIG MASTERLIST | TW REWRITE

Stiles Stilinski x Reader! Half-sibling!Mccall Word count: 2736 Warnings: Mentions of dead bodies, injuries, blood, angst, swearing (always). A/N: I’m not really proud of this chapter. It is fast and not too long. At first, I thought about skipping it, but I totally needed it to be able to introduce Isaac Lahey. Furthermore, the black backpack it’s truly important for Y/N’s past with her mother, and for her relationship with Scott!

↪ PLEASE RESPECT MY WORK. DON’T COPY, TRANSLATE OR CLAIM THEM AS YOURS. NOT ON THIS WEBSITE OR ANOTHER. ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED.

"Scott told me you weren't coming today." Allison stared at me, concerned.

"What's the point of staying at home?" I chuckled. I didn't remember anything about last night. I had this uneasy feeling, but I couldn't recall anything. I remembered running after Lydia when she escaped from the hospital's window, and the next thing I was lying down on my bed after being found in the woods. "Melissa will kill me when she finds out I'm not home." I laughed.

"Oh, she will kill you." My half-brother's girlfriend smiled, clutching her books against her chest. "Stiles told me that you guys are better than ever." She blushed, nodding. "I hope you guys stay like that. Scott glares at me less when you guys are together." I smirked. It was true. Scott seemed to be calmer when he was in good terms with Allison.

"I need to go grab some books from my locker." She kissed Lydia's cheek, who had been quiet most of the time. "See you guys later." She side-hugged me.

"They called it a fugue state, which is basically a way of saying ‘We have no idea why you can't remember running through the woods naked," Lydia said while I opened the door for her. "But personally, I don't care. I lost nine pounds." She giggled.

"We were out there for almost an entire day," I answered back. "Isn't it crazy that we don't remember anything that happened during the time we were wandering around?"

"As I said before," She retouched her lipstick. "I lost nine pounds." I saw Jackson a couple of meters away from us, Lydia was walking directly to him. But his eyes were fixed on me while he smirked.

"Do your ears and nose bleed a lot?"

Fuck you, Jackson.

I walked to the bleachers, sitting down behind Scott and Stiles. Again, I was surprised that Scott was a werewolf because he hadn't noticed me as he was too busy talking to his friend. I got closer to them. "Boo." Both boys jumped, terrified. Their screams were so high pitched that half of the lacrosse team were staring at us. They both turned around to look at me. "Oh god, that was so fucking fu-"

Two arms wrapped around me, Stiles. Now, I was almost sitting on his lap, arms wrapped tightly around my waist, his face hiding on my neck. At first, I didn't know how to react, but I ended up wrapping my arms around him too. My right hand rubbed his back while the other rested on the back of his neck, pulling him closer to me, which seemed almost impossible. "I'm sorry." He whispered.

"For what?"

He sighed, his warm breath caressing the side of my neck, making me shiver. "I'm sorry for leaving you at the dance just to go with Lydia." His voice cracked.

"Stiles, we talked about this." I rubbed his back in circles. "It was your opportunity to get close to Lydia." Forming those words made my heart throb, but I continued. "You don't have to apologize for something your heart was telling you to do."

"My heart was confused." He whispered. "And because of that, you got hurt."

"It wasn't your fault." My fingers caressed his buzz-cut hair. "You didn't hit me, Chris Argent did."

"He could have killed you if he wanted. He didn't do it because you are of value. Because you are something that interests him." He clenched his jaw. "He could have killed you if he wanted to." Stiles paused. "And I never thanked you for saving me from Peter Hale back at the hospital."

"Anyone would have done that for you, Stilisnki."

We heard someone cough, and we decided it was time to part ways. Even though I didn't want to. Stupid Scott.

You know when you shower and wear clean clothes. You get inside your bed with fresh sheets. The smell and freshness embrace you, and you feel safe. That's exactly what I felt in Stiles's arms.

"Uhm. So what about the plan?" Stiles stopped looking deeply into my eyes to glance at Scott, who had interrupted us.

"What plan?" I curiously asked, sitting next to Stiles.

"There seems to be another wolf in the lacrosse team." The Hazel-eyed boy explained to me. "I told coach you're switching with Danny for the day."

"But I hate playing goal."

"Remember when I said I had an idea? This is the idea."

"Oh." He didn't understand. "What's the idea?"

"I seriously don't understand how you survive without me sometimes." He shook his head. "McCall's will always need me."

Coach called the entire lacrosse team. Stiles was the first one to go back to the field while Scott stopped to look at me. "Uhm, I hope you feel better."

"Did Melissa tell you to say that?" I jokingly asked.

"Actually, yes." He grinned when he saw how my face went back to a serious one. "I'm kidding. I really hope you feel better."

I nodded, smiling. "Thank you." I looked at him directly on the eyes. "And thank you for finding me."

"It wasn't me." He pointed at Stiles when he saw my confused expression. "It was him." Then he sighed. "And please, I can smell you guys."

"Smell what? I got showered so you can't joke about me smelling or something because I promise you I will kill you."

"No," He chuckled. "I smell Stiles." He paused. "And you, you know."

"No, I don't." He groaned, going back to the field, murmuring something about it 'not being his job'.

It seems like Stiles's plan was for Scott to throw every lacrosse player to the ground, smelling them to make sure that they were not a werewolf.

I was confused when in the distance, I saw Sheriff Stilisnki marching towards the field.

The match had been stopped by the police. "His father's dead. They think he was murdered."

"Are they saying he's a suspect?" Noah Stilisnki softly grasped Isaac's arm, letting him know that he had to go with them to the station. He was a major suspect. "Because they can lock him in a holding cell for 24 hours." Scott was still trying to understand what Stiles was trying to say. "During the full moon."

"How good are these holding cells at holding people?"

"People, good. Werewolves, probably not that good."

Isaac followed the sheriff's orders, but before completely disappearing from our sight, he turned around, looking at the other werewolf boy. "Stiles, remember when I said I don't have the urge to maim and kill?"

Stiles nodded.

"He does." I interrupted Scott. I could also feel it. I could feel the rage. He was going to explode.

After what happened in the field, we had to go to class with Mr. Harris. I didn't fancy that man, he made me feel quite uncomfortable, and his subject was monotonous.

"Why would Derek choose Isaac?" I heard Scott whisper. Both boys were sitting in front of me while I was sitting behind them, in front of Danny boy.

"Peter told me that if the bite doesn't turn you it could kill you. And maybe teenagers have a better chance of surviving."

"Doesn't being a teenager mean your dad can't hold him?"

"Well, not unless they have solid evidence. Or a witness. Wait." Stiles turned around, he offered me a little smile, making my heart beat like crazy. "Danny. Where's Jackson?"

"In the principal's office talking to your dad." My interest peaked when I heard what he had said.

"What? Why?"

"Maybe because he lives across the street from Isaac."

The hazel-eyed boy who only liked to get into trouble glanced at Scott and me. "We gotta get to the principal's office."

"How?"

I saw Stiles ripping a blank page from his notebook, shaping a not-so-round ball with it. "Everyone please turn to page 73." Mr. Harris was writing on the blackboard when the paper ball hit the back of his head. "Who in the hell did that?" Both troublemakers pointed at each other. Oh god.

Gosh, Mr. Stilisnki was right. I would only be into trouble if I went along with Scott and Stiles. But I couldn't let these two fools get themselves killed. I quickly made a paper ball, throwing it at Mr. Harris, hitting him directly on the nose. Classmates started snickering while Scott and Stiles glanced at me perplexed, but with grins on their faces. "Damn guys, I thought you said we were throwing them at the count of three." I winked at them.

However, Mr. Harris didn't seem to find it hilarious as he sent the three of us to detention. We were sitting outside when Stiles's dad came out. He hid his face behind my back, in hopes that his father wouldn't see him. Stiles under pressure was as dumb as Scott in his daily life.

"Scott." Sheriff Stilisnki greeted him. Then, he looked at his son, letting a sigh of defeat leave his mouth. "Y/N," He also greeted me. "How is that wound?"

"What wound?" I smiled, letting him know that I was feeling just fine.

He grinned back. "Good. I'm happy for you." He crossed his arms, telling his coworkers to go ahead. "I suppose you three are here to go into detention." I bit my lower lip while Scott nodded. Stiles still hiding his face behind my back. "Well, Y/N, you aren't going."

I gazed at him, utterly confused.

Stiles finally decided to stop using me as a shield. "Oh, wow-Dad! What a surprise!" Mr. Stilisnki, Scott, and I rolled our eyes. Sometimes, Stiles could be a complete fool. "Why isn't she going?"

I swallowed. I could feel both boys gazing at me.

"It isn't an interrogation, don't worry." Noah intervened. "But we need you to come back to the station. It is quite important, Y/N." I couldn't help but glance at Stiles, my anxiety going up as seconds when by. Why did they need me at the police station?

Stiles smiled at me, but I could see that he was as nervous and bewildered as me. "You are lucky," He punched me lightly on the arm. "You skip this stupid long detention." He moved a strand of hair away from my face. "And you are going to be with the coolest Sheriff of the city." He winked at his dad.

"We will still talk about this at home, Stiles." He smirked. "Come get her at the station when you finish whatever you did."

The hazel-eyed boy pouted, conducting his gaze to me. "Seems like it's going to be a long day for both of us." He muttered.

"Do you want anything to drink or eat?" Noah Stilinski took a seat in front of me. We were separated by a metal table. I shook my head while placing my hands on top of the cold surface. "I know you must be nervous about me taking you here without giving you any hint."

"And I'm in the interrogation room, so I'm even more nervous." I chuckled. "Please, go directly to the reason that made me be here."

"Do you remember Sheriff Posey? Back where you used to live?" He slid a picture of said Sheriff so I could see at him.

I nodded my head. I didn't remember much of him, but he saved my life a couple of times and did his best to snap Alice back to real life. Of course, it didn't work. "He was the one who 'took care' of Ali- my mom's situation."

Noah nodded. "He is gonna retire due to some health inconveniences."

"I hope he is okay," I sincerely expressed my feelings. "But what does that have to do with me?"

Sheriff Stilinski sighed, pulling something that was under the table, letting it fall on top of it. A black backpack. "Do you recognize this bag?" I shook my head. "Sherrif Posey had it for a long time, he wanted to wait until you were older." His eyes searched deep in mines. "This is the bag your mother took to jail. It was given to Sheriff Posey when-"

"When she killed herself." I finished for him. No tears. But my hands were full of sweat.

"Inside the bag, there are items she took to jail, and the ones they let her keep." He sighed. "Of course, those who work in jails must be strict about what inmates can keep. There won't be much, maybe a couple of pictures, something that reminded her of the outside world. Sheriff Posey thought you should be the one deciding what to do with all of this."

He slid the bag towards me. "I don't want it." I was surprised. My voice didn't creak. "You can throw it away."

He sorrowfully smiled. "I had a feeling you would say that." He coughed a little. "I've been following your case since my friend Posey told me about you. I know how much you went through, from an outsider point of view." I nodded, he was the first person who talked to me that way. It was nice, and it made me think of Stiles. "I'm still gonna give you this bag. Do whatever you want with it." I glanced at the bag, nodding. "You can take your time with it. It isn't a decision you must take right away."

My eyes glistened while I peered at him. "They re-opened the case, right?" My voice came out in a whisper. "Her family re-opened the case, right?"

Noah nodded. "It wasn't your fault, okay? They are a heart-broken family. What they went through...nobody should have to experience that. But it wasn't your fault, and the judge gave you the reason." He grabbed my hands, his thumbs caressing the back of my hands. "You have all of us now."

After the conversation with Mr. Stilinski, he made me wait in his office, telling me to feel comfortable while I waited for Stiles to come for me. I was sitting on a couch, my eyes examining the black bag that used to be the most precious thing that my mother ever had. Funny, right?

The door opened, and I was met with Stiles. He smiled when he saw me, and I did the same. "Finally!" I got up from the couch. "I'm so tired. I want to go home."

When I saw his nervous laugh I concluded that we weren't going home yet. "I need to grab the keys of every cell in the station. There's a dude dressed as an officer who wants to kill Lahey. Also, seems like Isaac was being abused by his father, Scott is in his old house, trying to investigate and Derek is flirting with the receptionist. Well, distracting her, you know."

"Okay, so where are the keys?"

Stiles walked to a little grey box that was on the wall, introducing a code. But when it opened, it was empty. "Fuck, someone already got to them." Stiles ran out of the office without waiting for me.

"Yo, wait." I grabbed the backpack, throwing it over my shoulder. When I heard the fire alarm, I started running. "Stiles! Stiles?"

In a couple of seconds, I was able to find him. His back was against the wall while he looked ahead. Isaac Lahey has escaped from his cell, and he was fighting with a man that was dressed as an officer. Isaac grabbed the head of the fraudulent officer, slamming him against the wall. Then, he turned around, looking at Stiles. He moved to get closer to him, stopping when I firmly hissed at him. Nails coming out, ice-blue eyes and scales decorating from my wrist to elbow. He felt threatened but still tried to attack me until Derek appeared.

"How did you do that?"

"I'm the Alpha."

Derek left, taking Isaaw with him before the other officers came to the room due to the alarm. Stiles rushed to me. "Are you okay?" I nodded. "You need to calm down. The scales are still out."

I glanced at my arms. "I don't know how to control it. It just happens." He nodded while talking his plaid off, helping me wear it. We were interrupted by coughs. Uh oh, Sheriff Stilinski and other officers were looking at us.

I peered at Stiles while he looked at the man laying on the floor. "Uh," He pointed to the man. "He did it."

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People in black means it doesn’t let me tag them.

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aenxiome · 3 years

Text

Chapter 2: Chilled Conversations

As soon as I opened the front door, the sound of shouting and explosions greeted me. I made my way up to my bedroom to drop off my book bag and then headed to Jazzs' room. I entered without knocking and found my sister sitting on her bed with headphones in and surrounded by homework.

"Jazz," I called, trying to gain her attention. When she doesn't acknowledge me, I try calling her name a little louder, "Jazz." Not being in a waiting mood, I walk closer to her and wave my hand in front of her face. She continues staring at the page as if nothing is there. I look towards my hand just to make sure I didn't accidentally turn intangible on the way over.

I couldn't keep in my sigh when instead of my hand being at the end of my arm, the only thing there was an empty sleeve. For some reason, my powers have been slipping away from me more often recently. I thought I was over this stage of the ghostly experience already. Focusing on becoming tangible, I waited until my hand came back into existence then gently pulled one earbud out of her ear.

As soon as it came out, I had her full attention, " Little brother," she greeted. Then, she looked at me, signaling that I should tell her what I wanted so she could get back to her work.

When I didn't answer her right away, she pushed away from her things and patted the side of her bed, allowing me to sit down. I readily take her invitation as I flop down onto her bed and lay back to stare at the ceiling. She studied me for a moment and let out a sigh, "what's wrong this time? You haven't hurt yourself again, have you?" I don't answer for a moment as I try to get comfortable before answering, "It's nothing like that. It's just.." I pause, thinking of how to go about this before deciding that it wasn't worth it, " Never mind, it's been a long day, that's all." She turns back to her work and gathers it all together before placing it on the floor and laying next to me.

" Okay, and?" she says, prompting me to go on. I thought about not telling her about anything at all, but the silence broke my resolve. I put a hand up to my face and rubbed my eyes before telling her about my day, leaving out the ongoing argument I have with Sam and Tucker about my ghost powers and the talk with Mr. Lancer and Ms. Tally.

I would rather deal with the lingering anxieties about both of them than come clean to Jazz. She always means well, but she can be a bit of a mother hen. I don't know why she does it, but she constantly analyzes all of my arguments, and if I told her about the meeting, I would be doomed to relive the whole thing. She is always asking questions. I blame the fact that she is a budding psychologist.

As I tell her about the hallway incident, I notice Jazz slowly turning red. It wasn't long until her face resembled her hair. Once I got to the fact that I had to stay after school because of my tardiness, she was scowling and had a fist full of bedding. " You told her, right? You told Ms. Tally why you were late, didn't you?" she interrogated, I shook my head no, and she let out a sound of frustration. " You can't keep letting Dash and the others do you like this! It isn't right you do understand that don't you?"

"Well, what else was I supposed to do?" I mumble to her. She sat up quickly, starting to lecture, "Tell somebody! But, seriously, Danny, if you let this go on, you're going to be in more trouble than detention." I couldn't think of anything to say; she is right after all.

" I said that I didn't tell Ms.Tally during class, not that I didn't say anything at all." Jazz looked relieved as if I finally got some reason in my brain. " So what are they going to do?" she asked impatiently."The teachers are going to keep us separated in classes, but besides that, I'm not sure what else they are going to do." she looks put out, " that's it?" I nod my head, yes, and she lets out a small groan, " well, at least that's better than nothing."

Even though this is a good thing for me, it is still worrying. What if other people start getting messed with? What if the next person that gets picked on can't take it? I would rather be the A-Lists punching bag for the rest of high school if it means that everyone else is left alone. I'm left by myself to my worries as Jazz goes back to her homework, and I go to grab mine. I end up doing my homework in her room with us both, enjoying each other's presence and silence.

By the time dinner comes around, Jazz is finished with her things, and she comes to look over mine. The only things that she was unable to help me with are astronomy, math, and science. Unlike me, STEM classes aren't her area of expertise. She can breeze by any other type of class no problem, but these classes are something she has to try to excel in.

Once Jazz is satisfied that my work is up to par, we head down the stairs into the kitchen. When we get there, it is empty. The only sign that anyone else is home is the array of sounds from the lab connected to it. I open the lab and take a peek inside. My parents, Jack and Maddie Fenton, are hunched over a table filled with different mechanical parts.

I go down, double-checking to make sure I'm completely visible and grab their attention. " Hey, Mom, what's for dinner?" She startles and drops the part in her hand, then looks up at me. " Oh, hey sweety, when did you get home?" Unfortunately, the lab doesn't have a clock, so I can only estimate when I answer, " A couple of hours. It's almost nine O'clock. Are we going to have dinner?" By the time I am done answering, Mom has already gone back to her parts. I stand there for a couple more seconds before interrupting again, " Mom?" Finally, she answers me absent-mindedly, " Maybe later, go upstairs. We will talk about it later."

I rush back into the kitchen, look at my sister, and give her a solemn nod, and then we get to work. We go back and forth between cabinets, the fridge, and the stove as a well-oiled machine. It doesn't take long before dinner is finished and is hitting the table. While I wish we could make dinner as a family, I can't help but feel that only Jazz and I should handle the food. Dad can't make anything more complex than a peanut butter sandwich, and Mom, well, let's just say her cooking is a bit unique. Just about every time she makes something, the food ends up having some kind of side effect. The food is either glowing or has come alive.

I suspect it's some kind of weird ecto- contamination.

While everyone is supposed to decontaminate themselves before leaving the lab, if they have messed with ectoplasm, Dad has difficulty remembering to do so when fudge is involved. At least when Jazz and I make it, there is at least an 80% chance that it comes out normal. I may have once or twice accidentally contaminated food when I was sick before, but since then, I have been extra careful not to do it again. I don't like having to fight my food for dominance.

This time Jazz went down to the lab and brought back our parents for dinner. As usual, dad stuffed his face as soon as we sat down, and mom brought back her latest gadget to fiddle with. We eat in silence until, "So, Mom, what did you do today?" Jazz asks, attempting to make small talk. Mom hums in thought for a short moment before, " Mostly just working in the lab today. We were trying to figure out how that ghost has managed to get our Fenton Thermos to work. He was at the Nasty Burger today; you should have heard those poor people over there. They were convinced that menace was there today to save the day!" She looks between Jazz and me and tells us seriously, " Just you two wait, it won't take long now for that thing to mess up. Once people start to see its true ways, everyone will know that all ghosts are evil."

I discreetly make eye contact with Jazz and signal that I want this conversation done with. A look of understanding is in her eyes, and she steers the conversation away from ghosts to some psychological thing that I don't understand. I quickly finish eating and head to my bedroom. It doesn't take more than ten minutes before Jazz comes in and shuts the door behind her. She leans up against the door and looks at me accusingly, " So the Nasty Burger, why is this the first time I'm hearing about this?" I started my defense immediately, " I told you about school and what was wrong earlier. It's not like you asked for a play-by-play of my entire day." She continued to glare at me until I mentioned that it was only the Boxxy.

" I don't see why you give him that ridiculous nickname, you're only getting him madder." I looked at her with fake surprise, "I make Boxxy mad oh no, it's not like I want to annoy him or anything." She gives me a look, and I roll my eyes back at her, " come on, it's not like giving him a nickname is going to hurt anybody. Maybe lose a couple of boxes, yes, but I make sure to bring them back." Jazz turns around and leaves with a huff.

I spent the rest of the night going back and forth between playing doomed and chasing the odd ghost that has made its way out of the zone. Since my parents have been held up in the lab, I have been unable to let go of the ghost I had previously caught throughout the past day or so. So finally, just before midnight, I make my way to bed and hope to make it through the night without any more interruptions.

I wake up hours later, feeling ice running through my veins. When I open my eyes, I see a pale blue mist escaping my mouth and into the room. I groggily sit up and look through my window to see the mechanical ghost rushing towards the house.

I let my transformation bubble over me and phase through the wall just as an ectoblast flew past me. I create an ecto-shield around myself and rush out to the middle of the street, away from FentonWorks and closer to the ghost. This ghost is immediately recognizable, with his armor being a staple piece of his being.

"Ghost child," he says in greeting, while I respond with my normal amount of displeasure, "Skulker." He prepares his weapons while spewing out his regular monolog, " This will be the day I, Skulker the Greatest Hunter in the Ghost Zone, claims your pelt welp." He pauses for a moment as if imagining something and then says a little out of character, "You know you would look perfect hanging in front of the fireplace. Maybe I'll only put half of you at the foot of my bed." He hums to himself while I stare dumbfounded, "decisions, decisions, oh never mind, I'll figure it out later. Prepare to die welp." He starts shooting his ecto-rockets and regular ectoblast immediately, hardly giving me the time to dodge them.

" I have been telling you this for months, first off EWW," like, gross, " Second, what is your problem it's like 3 in the morning!" Skulker just laughed and kept shooting. I noticed how much damage was happening to the neighborhood around us and did my best to lead him to an empty lot not too far away. It didn't take long as we were flying at speeds around 100 mph ( 161 kph). We exchanged ectoblasts and kept our shields around ourselves until one of us either lost too much energy or broke the other's shield.

My breath was quickening, and I was becoming less energized. The back and forth went on for a while, and both of us were tired. Both of our shields were starting to show some wear and tear, with small cracks running through the ectoplasm. Skulker's shield broke first, shattering like glass and leaving him defenseless.

I rush forward with the Fenton Thermos in hand and get ready to suck him up when he sets off another ectoblast that grazes past my face. The pain makes me hesitate, and Skulker pushes away from me, creating distance once again. I huff in annoyance, causing a spike of ice to fire out of my mouth and into the ground. Skulker and I both look towards the ice, me in shock and him in apprehension.

"W-What was that?" I ask breathlessly, still in shock; Skulker didn't look any better, gaping at me. I go up to him and slap him in the face, grabbing his attention. "What Is that?" I asked him again. He looks back and forth between the spike and my mouth and then goes closer towards the spike. He pokes it and then immediately takes his hand away. "It's solid ice," he informs me, "just touching it brings chills down my spine. How did you do it? " he asks in wonder.

"I don't know," I stammer out, " but can I guarantee you I plan on finding out how." We float in the middle of the lot for a few more moments before I ask, "Truce for the night?" He nodded his head, yes, and then I brought up the thermos once again. Skulker looks at me with dread, "Any chance you will let me get back to the Zone on my own?" I smirk at him and let out a small laugh, " No," I laugh once more, "Not a chance." I say as I suck him up into the thermos.

As soon as he is back in the thermos, I stop laughing, and my face turns into a grimace. My cheek is bleeding out a mixture of ectoplasm and blood, while the rest of me is in the middle of blooming into an array of bruises.

I look back at the ice and break a piece of it off, planning on taking it with me to study it. However, once it breaks off, the ice starts to turn powdery and crumbles into my hand. I look at its tiny crystals, mesmerized as it melts away. Before leaving the lot, I take a survey of the damage. Most of the ground has burn marks covering it, and the area around the spike is frozen over. I look away in shame at the damage before flying away.

On the way home, I turn over, floating on my back, and look up at the stars. With my enhanced eyesight, I can see them better than the naked human eye, almost as good as a low-quality telescope. The stars have always mesmerized me, taking my breath away. Every time I see them it's as if I get lost in their brightness, their shine. I would give just about anything to be among them. Instead, I take my time floating on home, trying to enjoy the sight for as long as possible.

Once I get to the Fenton Works sign, I float back to my room intangibly and drop through the floor to the lab. I empty the thermos and look around for the first aid kit, then go back upstairs. Luckily for me, my parents have already gone to bed, so my presence wasn't noticed.

I bandage the side of my face and check the rest of my body before heading back to bed, hoping to get some more sleep.

Unfortunately, by the time 6 AM came around, I had no such luck. Twice more, I had woken up by my ghost sense going off. Even though they were just a couple of octopuses and other animals, they still took some time to gather up.

Once I get ready for school, I rush to Jazz before she heads out the door and persuade her to let me ride in her car to school. Once we were settled in, I fell asleep, but it didn't take long for us to arrive, but I was gone to the world. Jazz had to resort to poking me in the ribs to wake me up.

"Late night again, little brother." She says, already knowing it to be fact. I let out a cautious yawn and rubbed my eyes, "What gave me away? I ask groggily. She runs her hand through my hair in a calming motion as she replies, " well, between wanting a ride and the new injuries," gesturing to my face, " it wasn't hard to guess." We sat there in silence for a little bit, with Jazz running her hand through my hair and me leaning onto her. We don't leave the position until we hear the warning bell ring and hurry out of the car.

I wave to my sister, " have a good day." She smiles at me and tells me the same, but before we separate, she grabs my arm and turns me around to face her. "Remember to remind your teachers about the A-List," I nod to her, " if they don't do anything when the class first starts," she tells me seriously. "Okay, okay," I reply, "come on, we're going to be late. Jazz gives me a quick hug then rushes down the opposite hallway.

I'm almost to English when a hand comes out of nowhere and knocks me into the wall. The impact had my body crying in agony as it put pressure on the bruises going across me. I look up with pain in my eyes to see Dash and a couple of his cronies boxing me in. I try to see past the jocks looking for a teacher, but I couldn't see a thing with them towering over me.

Dash didn't even say a thing before he delivered the first punch. I take a couple more as the other two keep me in place before we hear the shout of, "Detention!" The others turn around and move just far enough apart to see Ms. Tetslaff the P.E teacher coming towards us. She is a tall, intimidating woman with light brown hair and blue eyes. I don't think I have ever seen her out of gym clothes, and she lives to keep the A-List in trouble.

Once she comes in front of us she corners me while I start sputtering excuses, " well you see-" I started to explain before she cuts me off. " Get to class Fenton, now you Baxter are going to follow me to my office," she turned to look at the others, "You two as well." All of us looked at her as if she had lost her mind, but Dash still looked to be in denial as he showed no sign of worry at being in trouble.

I rush off to class trying to make my way to class before the bell rings and Ms. Tetslaff changes her mind. I make it into the classroom just as the bell rings and go towards my normal seat as Mr. Lancer Calls out to the class, "Before you all get comfortable I need you to gather your things and move to your new assigned seats." The class let out a sign of displeasure. Everyone went up to the podium and another set of groans were heard. I take a look and see that all of the A-List were separated. I checked for my own name and to my joy Sam, Tucker, and I were still grouped together with the only difference being that we were brought up to the front of the room.

This is going to be a good day.

All of my classes containing students from the A-Lists were given new seating arrangements giving me a new hope for my grades. So far classes are quieter but nothing else has seemed to change. Many of the A-List were called out for making a scene in class and hopefully things keep getting better.

It was at lunch that my luck ran out as I once again came face to face with Dash Baxter. " You must have thought that was so funny, didn't you Fenton?" He says accusingly, I tried to stay neutral but I still couldn't help the look of mirth that is planted on my face. Finally he is being held accountable. Dash was getting closer to me when one of his buddies called him off reminding him that he was in trouble and that he doesn't need to get into anymore.

Half way into lunch was when Jazz appeared. She sat down at our table, put her elbows on it, and laid her chin in her hands. She looked at me with the fakest smile that I have ever seen and said in a sing-song voice, "Oh, Danny, is there something you forgot to tell me about yesterday?" I started to pale as she went on, "Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that you told Mr.Lancer and Ms.Tally about a little ghostly occurrence?" If her look could kill I would be a pile of mush.

"Danny," Sam interjects, " what is she talking about?" looking at me suspiciously while Tucker is stuffing his face looking between the girls I start to crack under pressure. "Whaz et uhg detesuin yezteraay?" Tucker inquires with his mouth full.

" well you see… it wasn't exactly a detention," Sam and Tucker give me a betrayed look, probably thinking the worst, " I thought it was, I swear," I tell them sincerely. " Ms. Tally brought me to Mr. Lancer's office and wanted to ask me about my attendance, grades, and stuff." I Look at Jazz in the eye trying to convey that I didn't see any harm in my words, " I didn't know they would talk to you I swear! I was only trying to be honest." Her anger lessened at my words but the hostility is still there. " I only told the basics, nothing in detail I swear!"

"What exactly are you going on about?" asked Tucker, having his mouth free of food for once. Sam nodded her head agreeing with Tucker wanting an explanation. I put my head in my hands and said, " All I did was say that the house is loud and that it can be hard to sleep, and that some of the ghosts have an unhealthy obsession with us." Sam looked thoughtful, " Well that doesn't sound too bad," Jazz amended ", but then again I guess you could have done worse."

"Hey," I exclaim offended, " you're the one who said honesty is the best policy. It's the truth… not the whole truth but not a lie either."

Jazz gave me a look telling me that I am all forgiven but said, "Next time a little heads up would be nice."

"I'll keep that in mind."

#danny phantom #danny fenton #jazz fenton #skulker #Maddie Fenton #jack fenton #fanfiction #fenton family #fanfic

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oceanselevenism · 3 years

Note

If you're still doing them maybe number 12 with both the ocean's siblings and their partners?

hell yeah!! i’ve put it under the cut :)) it is Very Tangentially holiday-sweater-related but it is too long to not post now! hope you enjoy, and happy holidays :))

It’s the first Christmas they’ve spent together in... nearly a decade and a half, actually. The years had flown by, blurring into a mess of run-ins and arguments and you stay on your side, I’ll stay on mine, but hey, Danny can’t fault his sister for wanting to make up for lost time. No, he can’t fault her (after all, if she had been the one to fake her death, he’d probably have moved into her house for a week, just to make sure she didn’t do it again) but he can make fun of her, so that’s what he does. “Aw, you really did miss me,” he says when she gives him and Rusty perfunctory hugs on her way into his house (Lou just claps them both on the shoulder, and he’s not sure whether to feel snubbed or relieved). “I can’t believe my dear sister actually cares,” he tells her when she brings him a mug of cocoa, ingredients nabbed from some billionaire in Germany. “Pure family bonding for the whole family,” he remarks when she goes off on a drunken, expletive-filled tangent about the Met Gala’s security over a game of poker (they’ve given up on trying to enforce the no-cheating rule, and he’s pretty sure Lou takes the opportunity to peek at Debbie’s cards). But in all honesty, he can’t keep up the ribbing; it really is good to see her, even if she definitely gets along better with Rusty (she’s told him as much, and right to his face, too) and the third day ends in a bitter, wine-fueled not-argument about their mother and their father and they themselves. But on the fourth morning Danny gets up early (it’s five in the goddamn morning, why the fuck has Lou already left a note on the counter saying gone on a run) to make latkes, and when Debbie comes downstairs she scoops out a dollop of his favorite sour cream instead of her usual applesauce, so unless her latke preferences have done a complete 180 since the last time he’s seen her, they’ve forgiven each other.

She and Lou volunteer to go on a grocery run that evening, and Danny’s glad; he hasn’t had the chance to jump Rusty’s bones in, like, five days (turns out cleaning up for houseguests takes up way more time than anticipated) (hey, the only people they’ve had over in years have been the crew from the Benedict job, and he’s heard Reuben threaten to shit on Turk’s feet, they don’t need to clean up for them). And for a minute, as Rusty pins him up next to the to-be-composted bag that is currently overflowing with potato scraps, the only thought in his head is the usual why didn’t we do this sooner. But then Rusty pulls back-- “Rus,” Danny complains-- and he tilts his head in that We Need To Talk manner. Which would be hot, if not for the fact that Rusty probably wants to talk about Debbie.

“You’re good, right?”

“We were never on bad terms.”

“Liar.”

“Well, hostile terms, maybe,” Danny amends. “But never bad.”

Rusty shifts, adjusting his forearms so it’s more like they’re just two good pals having a conversation three inches from each others’ faces instead of two good pals about to do very unsanitary things in a kitchen, and says, “I think you’re putting too much water under the bridge.”

“What am I, a Dutch engineer?”

“You’re very funny.”

“I know I am. Now, are we gonna--”

The door opens. Danny swears. “We were gone for twenty minutes,” Debbie says. “Are you that desperate?” Danny regrets going for the open-concept first floor, and he regrets it even more as Rusty pushes himself off with an air of utmost nonchalance.

“Here,” Lou says, lobbing a ball of fabric at Rusty. Her aim is remarkable, and Danny almost asks if she ever played softball before deciding he likes his well-being more than teasing his sister’s motorcycle-riding, brass-knuckle-owning girlfriend. It’s fine; next to him, Rusty huffs an amused laugh at the unsaid comment anyway. “Happy Christmas Eve.”

Rusty unfolds the fabric to reveal a truly hideous (and possibly offensive) Christmas sweater. It’s got red sleeves, a green torso, and a large, colorful fruitcake emblazoned on the stomach. Above it, in red and yellow, is text that reads FRUIT CAKE. “I love it,” Rusty says, pressing his lips together in that way that says he’s trying his damndest not to laugh. “It’s perfect.”

Lou opens her coat to reveal her own sweater, hers saying Ho Ho Homo. “I thought the theme was appropriate.”

“And for you, dearest brother,” Debbie says, pulling an atrociously-colored wad of wool out of a paper bag and chucking it at him, “you get the best of both worlds.”

With a mounting sense of horror, he recalls the year that he insisted on putting teal and orange streamers across the house, because it’s Hanukkah and Christmas mixed! That was the last year their parents had lived in the same house; Danny used to joke that it had been the final nail in the coffin for their mother. He pinches an edge of the cloth between two fingers and lets the rest fall open. It’s a Miami Dolphins holiday sweater. A teal-and-orange, festively-patterned Miami Dolphins sweater. Oh, his Boston-bred father would be frothing at the mouth. “We’re in Canada,” Danny says, equal parts shocked and awed. “How the hell did you get this here so quick? We were supposed to be meeting in Quebec until three days ago--”

“Danny, please learn what priority shipping is,” Debbie says. “Now c’mon. Wear it.”

There’s no way he can back out of this. If he refuses, she’ll just play the I thought you were dead card. He’s never regretted a decision more.

He puts on the sweater. Rusty-- his partner, his right hand, the love of his life-- wolf-whistles.

“I’m divorcing you,” Danny announces.

“Don’t worry,” Lou says with a grin, and is that her phone oh fuck she’s got a picture-- “Debbie, take off your coat.”

With the air of someone who has suffered the weight of the world, Debbie shrugs off her jacket. She’s wearing a matching sweater, and the dolphin on this one has a lovingly-embroidered smiling mouth stitched into it. Danny tries very, very hard not to laugh. “Shut it,” Debbie warns him.

“Oh, I’m not saying a thing,” Danny replies.

“We actually did get groceries,” Lou says, turning back to the door, “so--”

“Lemme give you a hand,” Rusty says. “Let these two bask in the joy of their new sweaters.”

“Fuck off,” Danny and Debbie say in unison. Rusty grins, cheery as ever, and leaves Danny’s side to follow Lou out the door.

“Great gift,” Danny says. “I’ll be laughed at by Reuben for the rest of my days.”

Debbie snorts, walking into the kitchen and rooting around in his cabinets. “Well, actually he’d-- wait, please tell me you didn’t, like, have gross old people se--”

“Shut up, Deborah,” Danny replies, feeling his neck heat up. “I’m only two years older than you. And no.” He refrains from adding on a “not this time.”

“Thank God,” Debbie says, pulling a glass out of the cupboard. “Anyway. Reuben’s not gonna laugh at you, he’s just gonna talk about your embarrassing baby stories in whatever groupchat you people have.”

Danny wonders how his baby sister got to be cooler than him. It’s very distressing. “That’s worse.”

“Yep,” she says, putting the pitcher down and picking her now-full glass up. She leans on the wall across from him, sipping her water, and narrows her eyes at him. “Are we, y’know... good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Danny says. Besides the thirty years of vaguely pretending the other didn’t exist.

“I’m not gonna answer that,” Debbie says. “But... I’d just like to make sure. ‘Cause you’re the only not-completely-insufferable blood relation I have.”

Neither of them say anything for a moment; Danny picks at a loose teal thread, trying to think of how best to phrase the thoughts rattling around in his head. “I don’t hate you,” he finally says. “And I don’t dislike you, either. You’re a pretty good sister. And a great thief.”

“I know,” she replies. “I’m not gonna say it back, ‘cause then you’re gonna get an inflated ego.”

“Works for me,” Danny says, grinning a little.

“I guess it’s just... I mean, I let all the old resentment get in the way of, y’know. Having a decent relationship, personally or professionally.”

Danny nods. He’s still got the scar from the time they both went after the Ruby of the Isle; he’d won, but just barely, and only because he had Rusty and she hadn’t found Lou. But at the end of the day, neither of them have tried to kill the other, and they still did grow up together, playing in Atlantic City casinos and building sand castles under the boardwalk. “I think we’re too old for that now.”

“You’re the old one here,” Debbie replies, no bite in the remark.

“Only two years,” he reminds her. “But I did the same thing as you, letting petty grudges get in the way of family, and for that I’m sorry.”

“I am, too.”

“Thanks, Debs.” He frowns. “They’re taking a really long time to get the groceries, aren’t they?”

As if summoned, the door opens, and Rusty and Lou, each with a measly two bags in their hands, walk in. And Rusty has his phone in his hands. “Rus, I swear--”

“Too late,” Rusty grins, as the shutter sound rings out through the living room. “That outfit has already been immortalized.”

“Have I already said I’m divorcing you? I’m divorcing you.”

“Does it count as fratricide if he’s your brother-in-law?” Debbie asks.

“Disproportionate reactions,” Rusty accuses. “Besides, I’ve already sent it to Linus.”

Danny’s eyes widen. “Not Linus.”

“You heard me.”

His phone vibrates in his pocket. It’s a text from Linus Caldwell himself, consisting of a single thumbs-up emoji and two grinning cats. “You’re all terrible people. Terrible, terrible people.”

(the sweater rusty is wearing is real) (as is lou’s) (and the ocean siblings’)

#oceans 11 #oceans 8 #danny ocean #debbie ocean #rusty ryan #danny x rusty #debbie x lou #lou miller #my writing

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cartoonfangirl1218 · 3 years

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I liked your ava post, do you have more aboout usm. The WHOle usm team?

I can’t say I have many many hcs but I’ll give you where I think they might end up after SHIELD, and two songs that fit them if that works.

Peter: I don't know why but I feel like Peter would want to look for his parents once he leaves SHIELD and while doing so, he ends up in a lot of team ups and building up more of his rogues gallery. Basically I imagine stuff from the comic with spider clones, dating MJ, briefly rejoins the Avengers then leaves. Yeah I don't have much for him since comic history leaves people to choose what they want. Imagine Dragon's Beliver because he does have such a heavy pain inside, but that's the thing, he keeps it inside until he snaps them into his fight for justice. "First things first, I'ma say all the words inside my head. I'm fired up and tired of the way that things have been, The way that things have been.Second thing second, Don't you tell me what you think that I could be. I'm the one at the sail, I'm the master of my sea...Taking my message from the veins. Speaking my lesson from the brain. Seeing the beauty through the pain!"

Danny: I'd like to think that he stays in NY to start Heroes for Hire with Luke as soon as they leave SHIELD. They're bros, and he justifies the absence that New York needs Iron Fist more than K'Lun for the moment. He also tries his hand at getting Rand Industries back on track. I also think he does return to K'Lun eventually as King and mystical head. After his work at Rand Industries, he feels more confident as a leader and is willing to stand up to the monks when it comes with changing some of the old ways. Allowing him to travel back to NY to see his friends while keeping the mystical origins of K'Lun sacred. I think Nature Boy rather fits him, soft and melodious and Danny learning he is not alone sort of. "There was a boy. A very strange enchanted boyThey say he wandered very far..Very far over land and sea. A little shy and sad of eye. But very wise, was he." Les Miserables’ Who am I mainly because I imagine Danny has some identity issues between feeling worthy of the Iron Fist, feeling torn between the US and K'Lun. Ideally, he would end up learning being one does not give up the other part of himself. As one would say they can coexist in a balance. "Who am I? Can I conceal myself forever more.. Pretend I’m not the man I was before?....How can I ever face my fellow men? How can I ever face myself again?"

Luke: As said above, with Danny, when they leave SHIELD, they create Heroes for Hire, they ride or die forever. Together they clean up their part of New York and Luke comes to terms with some of his past and the people he dealt with in jail. He also meets Jessica Jones during this time and she becomes his new partner (in more ways than one) when Danny leaves for K'Lun. He sometimes does freelance work for SHIELD, mainly at the behest of his parents, sometimes as a favor to Fury. He also sometimes comes by the Helicarrier to be a surprise mentor to whatever new hero they pick up. He is the main instigator of team reunions.

Adam Levine’s If I got locked away totally fits him after the time he spent in jail and scared of being seen as weak, it really fits him and his insecurities. "If I got locked away And we lost it all today. Tell me honestly, would you still love me the same? If I showed you my flaws. If I couldn't be strong. Tell me honestly, would you still love me the same?" One call away also fits him simply for his caring nature and how he'll do anything for his friends, "I'm only one call away. I'll be there to save the daySuperman got nothing on me. I'm only one call away/ Call me, baby, if you need a friend. I just wanna give you love...No matter where you go, know you're not alone. I'm only one call away."

Ava: I think once Ava leaves SHIElD, she has some trouble with the amulet whether form being on her own, knowing SHIELD isn't there watching her every move or just cockiness that she can handle it now. Either way, I see her as taking a break from the amulet. Reasoning her father wanted her to keep it safe, it didn't mean she had to put it on and be a hero. Ideally, she goes to therapy to work through all these issues before ever putting it on again. I imagine she goes home to PR too. I think she could go into bounty hunting, it's more freelance, she helps put baddies away and she can put her investigative skills to good use. Eventually she'd be White Tiger again but for more superpowered threats than every day patrolling. Just breathe from In the Heights not only for the spanish influences but also the utter fear of returning a failure, "Straighten the spine. Smile for the neighbors. Everything's fine, everything's cool. The standard reply: Lots of tests, lots of papers. Smile, wave goodbye and pray to the sky, "Oh God!" And what will my parents say? Can I go in there and say, "I know I'm letting you down..." Alyssa Greene from The Prom. The lyrics speak for themselves of the utter perfectionism and drive, "The hair has to be perfect. The As have to be straight...Trophies have to be first place. Ribbons have to be blue. There's always some competition or hoops for jumping through. Just have everything perfected by the time you reach eighteen"

Sam: Admittedly I don't know much about Nova lore or backstory as the others but I think he'll go back to space. Not necessarily as part of the Guardians because honestly I think they had enough members without him. Maybe as a solo act before he finds the other Nova Corps. I definitely see him as becoming a trainer there, finally being the leader he always wanted to be. I also want him to reconnect with his family so he does travel back to Earth to visit them and then swoops by NY for some reunion with his old team before heading back to space.

Bieber’s Lonely fits Sam because at the heart of it all, I think that's what he is. Lonely, he's still young and trying to navigate these powers and his place in the world and space and what his identity is. And no one else can quite get that. "Everybody knows my name now. But somethin' 'bout it still feels strangeLike lookin' in a mirror, tryna steady yourself and seein' somebody else. And everything is not the same now. It feels like all our lives have changed Maybe when I'm older, it'll all calm down. But it's killin' me now. What if you had it all, nut nobody to call? Maybe then you'd know me 'cause I've had everything. But no one's listening and that's just f- lonely." Shawn Mendes' Wonder works for similar reasons. Mainly I imagine him singing it to his missing father who inherited so much but knows nothing personally about him, "I wonder why I'm so afraid of saying something wrong, I never said I was a saint. I wonder, when I cry into my hands. I'm conditioned to feel like it makes me less of a man and I wonder if someday you'll be by my side and tell me that the world will end up alright. I wonder..I wonder." And then a party song for each

Sam: All I do is win by DJ Khaled "All I do is win, win, win no matter what. Got money on my mind, I can never get enough ('Nough) And every time I step up in the building Everybody hands go up And they stay there And they stay there, up, down, up, down, up, down 'Cause all I do is win (Win), win (Win), win And if you going in put your hands in the air, make 'em stay there"

Luke: Finesse by Bruno Mars, "We out here drippin' in finesseIt don't make no sense Out here drippin' in finesse You know it, you know it We out here drippin' in finesse It don't make no sense Out here drippin' in finesse You know it, you know it"

Peter: Another one bites the dust by Queen "nother one bites the dustAnother one bites the dust And another one gone and another one gone Another one bites the dust Hey I'm gonna get you too Another one bites the dust"

Danny: Normally, I don't think Danny would be into party music, too much cursing, too much noise to distort the mind, that stuff. But Rihanna is catchy. "I wanna take you away, let's escape into the music, DJ, let it playI just can't refuse it, like the way you do this Keep on rockin' to it Please don't stop the, please don't stop the music I wanna take you away, let's escape into the music, DJ, let it play I just can't refuse it, like the way you do this Keep on rockin' to it Please don't stop the, please don't stop the, please don't stop the music"

Ava: Woman by Ke$ha "I'm a motherfucking woman, baby, alright I don't need a man to be holding me too tight I'm a motherfucking woman, baby, that's right I'm just having fun with my ladies here tonight I'm a motherfucker" This other cool blog is much more into USM and has tons of hcs if you want more of this stuff, @im-rewriting-ultimate-spider-man

#ultimate spiderman #usm #peter parker #spider man #ava ayala #white tiger #danny rand #iron fist #luke cage #power man #sam alexander #nova #my hcs #my headcanons

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twoidiotwriters1 · 3 years

Text

Written In The Stars CXIII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: Did I mention already that I love this book? I love this book -Danny

Words: 6,084

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Happy’ -by Julia Michaels

Chapter Eleven: A Faulty Match.

"No way I'll be a teacher," Mel said anxiously. "I'm barely able to speak to more than five people at once!"

"You know that's not true, you're popular now!"

It had been two weeks after their talk in the common room and Hermione was ready to have a go at it for a second time. What was more surprising was the fact that Harry wasn't against it now. He'd finally come around and was behaving properly during Umbridge's lessons, which meant she was finally free to wander around school with her new friends without worrying all the time about what he was doing.

"Yeah, I doubt anyone except you two would want to be taught by us. We're nutters, remember?" Harry added.

"Speak for yourself," Mel protested.

Her time with Ginny and the twins was surprisingly effective when it came to building relationships with the rest of the houses, she knew a bunch of new people now, people that didn't think she was dramatic or impulsive. It was a nice change.

"Well, I think you might be surprised how many people would be interested in hearing what you've got to say," said Hermione. "Look, you know the first weekend in October's a Hogsmeade weekend? How would it be if we tell anyone who's interested to meet us in the village and we can talk it over?"

"Why do we have to do it outside school?" said Ron.

"Because I don't think Umbridge would be very happy if she found out what we were up to."

"So?" Ron looked at both of them with an eager expression. "You'll do it?"

Harry and Mel glanced at each other.

Were they ready for the teamwork that implied? Even if they hadn't argued for almost half a month, it still felt like too much, it was a very thin line they'd been walking those days trying not to push any buttons, but they were bound to falter, they just didn't how or when.

"I'll think about it," She sentenced. "I have tons to do... I mean, I can't teach a bunch of kids how to defend themselves if it's not my priority, I wanna make sure I don't mess up things."

"That's fine," Hermione smiled down at her paper as if Mel had agreed just then.

"So what d'you think?"

"Well, Hermione's idea isn't bad," Ginny shrugged. "You've gone through a lot, and you definitely know more than most, Mel."

"I don't know," She groaned. "I don't know if I want to spend that much time with..."

Ginny eyed her curiously.

"You and Harry are still fighting?"

"Have we ever not?" Mel smiled tiredly.

"Last year when you were all lovey in public..." Ginny replied. "I really thought you two were dating back then. Which is the reason why I gave Michael a chance."

"Hey!"

'Talking of the devil,' Mel thought, watching as Michael and his friends approached them.

"Hi," Ginny smiled at him. "What's up?"

Michal waved at Mel, the boys also greeted her, though they looked as if she were a unicorn.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" Michael asked.

"Sure... er- I'll be right back, Mel."

"No worries..."

Mel watched her go with Michael, Anthony Goldstein was trying to tell her something but she wasn't listening, she was just nodding along, laughing when he did.

Only then she realized how lonely she was feeling. She'd been feeling lonely for months, but now she knew exactly what kind of company she was looking for. She wanted to date someone, to feel the same way she'd felt before, a part of her even wanted to try with a total stranger, a stranger meant she wouldn't get hurt.

Mel continued to nod and listen without paying attention as she busied herself, cleaning her bag while Anthony kept talking. A piece of parchment fell from a book and Mel picked it up, skimming through it. It was one of her mother's letters, but it looked old.

'..you should never base your actions on what other people expect you to do, Mel. Not even if that person is one of your closest friends. How do you expect to become your own whole witch if you keep following other people's tails?'

It was the letter the woman had sent her when Ron, Harry and her crashed the Ford Anglia, and she'd been right about everything, Mel needed to stop basing her actions on what others wanted.

What did she want, apart from dating someone of course...

A second piece of parchment fell to her lap and she looked down at it. It was the list she'd done during her second year:

1-I have to control my temper.

2-I have to focus in class.

3-I must listen to my family.

4-I must forget about my feelings for Harry.

Mel stared at it and something in her head clicked. She'd had her answer for years, only that she hadn't been brave enough to accept it.

Ginny came back with an easy-going smile on her face, Mel did her best to match it. The boys said goodbye and left.

"So?" Mel asked. "Do I sense a date?"

"Maybe," Ginny smiled. "I like him, but he can be a bit annoying."

"Aren't all boys like that?" Mel joked.

"Not all of them," Ginny gave her a look.

"I know who you're talking about when you say that," Mel looked away, the piece of parchment hidden inside her fist. "I assure you he's the same."

"He's not that boring, is he?"

"Listen, if you don't want to date Michael I'm sure he'll understand. You're more than welcome to try with Harry and see for yourself if that's what you want..." Cho walked past just then, surrounded by her usual jolly group of girlfriends. "...But something tells me he's busy at the moment."

Ginny looked at the Ravenclaw and let out a heavy sigh.

"So it's true then, he likes Cho?"

"Seems like it," She grabbed her mum's letter and her list and put it inside her bag. "Cho's been acting odd, looking for Harry during every free hour– Alone."

"Hmm," Ginny nodded in understanding. "I hope it works, would hate to see either of them suffer any more..."

Mel felt a sting of guilt at Ginny's comment. Of course she wanted Cho to recover, and of course she wanted Harry to be happy... but did they really have to be together for that? Couldn't they just do it on their own?

'You're one to talk, wishing you could snog your tension out with a stranger...' A voice in her head replied.

"Uh," Mel cleared her throat, embarrassed by her selfish ideas. "Yeah, you're right."

"Talking about people getting together," Ginny's eyes shifted into a more playful gaze. "You've been spending a lot of time with my brothers, haven't you?"

"The twins?" Mel laughed. "We're friends!"

"Are you sure?"

"Don't start..."

"Come on! I know you think they're attractive, you told me once!"

"I was twelve!" Mel chortled.

"Okay then, if you think it's so weird I won't tell you which one I overheard saying he thinks you're a looker now," Ginny crossed her arms and sat back casually, a knowing smirk on her face.

"What?! Don't you dare!"

"I don't tell you which one, you'll think about it!"

"Ginny!" Mel whined anxiously. "I don't want to hurt their feelings!"

"Wouldn't it be cool if you were part of the family for real?" She insisted. "My brothers are not that bad..."

"No," Mel sank further in her place. "They're bloody lovely. That's why I won't forgive myself if I hurt them."

"You're Mellow, you can't hurt anyone," Ginny snickered. "Just think about it..."

It was really sweet of Ginny to put a good word in for her brothers, but she didn't think it was the best idea. However, her old list was clear, she had to move on from Harry. If there was a chance that she could forget about him while still having fun with someone she trusted, well, maybe she could make it work.

"Mel, is it true that you're organizing a D.A.D.A class?"

"Well–"

"I heard you're organizing a meeting, can I go?"

"I mean–"

"Are you actually teaching us the same things Dumbledore's teaching you? Are you allowed?"

"Guys!" Ginny spoke up. "You got it all wrong! Granger and my brother are the ones organizing the whole thing, Mel doesn't know anything... but she's going to be there if that's enough for you?"

A new stream of questions hit her and Mel laughed. With each passing day, she found the attention less and less annoying, she wasn't as anxious as before, and could even spend more time around Harry without snapping at him.

She raised her hands to quiet everyone down and they obeyed, Mel was starting to love this kind of control too.

"Ginny's right, guys. If you're going to ask 'Mione, please be careful? We don't want the toad hearing our business, do we? I don't want to get my friends in trouble."

She left feeling pleased and energized. The group scattered and she looked back at Ginny with a smile.

"Not bad was it? You're improving..."

"I owe it to you," Mel winked. "I'm hungry, you coming?"

"I'm sitting with Michael," Her friend's smile widened.

"I'll leave you to it then... see you!"

As she walked through, several people asked her to join them; she said no, though. She was still a bit uneasy about spending too much time with strangers, it was draining.

When Mel spotted Hermione she made a beeline to sit with her, the group of friends was already in the middle of a conversation. It was normal now, arriving in the middle of something, not really knowing what was going on with them, but she concluded that her new popularity was definitely worth it.

"Well, you can't blame him for wanting to get out and about," She heard Ron say. "I mean, he's been on the run for over two years, hasn't he, and I know that can't have been a laugh, but at least he was free, wasn't he? And now he's just shut up all the time with that lunatic elf and Mel's mum."

"You say that like my mum's on the same level as Kreacher," Mel raised a brow.

"The trouble is," Hermione insisted, "until V-Voldemort — oh for heaven's sake, Ron — comes out into the open, Sirius is going to have to stay hidden, isn't he? I mean, the stupid Ministry isn't going to realize Sirius is innocent until they accept that Dumbledore's been telling the truth about him all along. And once the fools start catching real Death Eaters again it'll be obvious Sirius isn't one... I mean, he hasn't got the Mark, for one thing."

"I don't reckon he'd be stupid enough to turn up. Dumbledore'd go mad if he did and Sirius listens to Dumbledore even if he doesn't like what he hears."

"Don't we all?" Mel sighed.

An owl landed in front of her with the usual letter from her mother. It contained very vague things and coded names so Mel knew how everything was going. That morning the letter was surprisingly short, but she kept reading between the lines hoping to see something, anything.

"Still nothing..." She said grumpily.

"What d'you mean?"

"My mum! Been waiting for them to confirm they're together but they won't budge..."

"How're you so sure it'll happen?"

"Didn't I tell you? My mum talked to me the day we left the station, she was more than ready to give Snuffles a chance..."

"Blimey!" Ron's eyes widened. "Congrats to them, I s'posse..."

"I'm happy for them," Mel agreed, handing the letter to them so they could read it. "They've been alone for ages... I'm glad they've got each other now. Don't you agree, Harry?"

He didn't reply.

"Harry?"

The boy was looking at the letter as if it had one of Skeeter's articles on it. Mel called a third time and he looked up, but there was nothing close to real joy there. He smiled tightly and nodded once.

"Yeah, sounds great."

Mel frowned a bit, her smiled faltering.

"Is something bothering you?"

"Not at all," Harry avoided her gaze at all cost.

Hermione tried to lighten the mood.

"Listen, Ron and I have been sounding out people who we thought might want to learn some proper Defense Against the Dark Arts, and there are a couple who seem interested. We've told them to meet us in Hogsmeade."

"Right," said Harry quietly.

"Don't worry. You've got enough on your plate without Sirius too. You read that note they sent to Mel, I bet they must be quite happy."

"They surely are," Mel carefully folded the paper so she could show it to Erick later. "Talking about Hogsmeade– a bunch of kids have been attacking me with questions and I told them to ask you, hope you don't mind..."

"It's fine," Hermione smiled. "I'm happy you're friends with students from different houses– the more we can have in our side the better, right?"

"I think so," Mel was too excited to sit still. "I'm sort of looking forward to it now? They're nicer to me–"

"I wonder why," Ron snorted.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh c'mon Mel," He laughed stupidly. "Half of the boys follow you around hoping you'll let them take you on a date... not that you're not nice and all! Don't hit me for being honest..."

Mel didn't try to refute his comment, far from it, this pleased her.

"I'm not going to hit you, Ron. I hope this works as a lesson to you, it is possible to be friends with other houses even if you don't agree in everything," She said happily.

"Sure is, if you're pretty," He replied.

Harry hid his face further, a clear redness on his cheeks. She fixed her posture and ate in content silence for the rest of the hour.

"Hey, Mel! Mel!" Fred ran up to her in the middle of the hall.

"What's up?"

"Is it true that you'll be having a meeting during our next Hogsmeade visit?"

"'Mione's the one organizing the whole thing–"

"That's all right," He pushed the comment aside. "I was wondering if you'd like to join us before the meeting. We'll go to Zonko's, buy a few things for our products... what do you say?"

"Sure," She exclaimed cheerily. "Should I wait for you at the entrance?"

"We can wait for you in the common room, don't worry," He smiled.

There was no double meaning to that smile, he was simply being him. But even knowing that, she still wanted to find out if she was right about him being the brother Ginny was trying to convince her to date.

Mel knew very well she was playing with fire, hadn't she learned anything? What about her dreadful experience with Harry? Dating friends was a mistake!

She was so lonely though... for some reason, she kept thinking about her talk with Sirius. Could it be true? Merlin, she was hoping it was.

She wasn't stupid, she could tell that some of her new friends were being too nice to her, but Mel kept her distance, she'd promised not to flirt around just to get what she wanted, and she was keeping her promise. Besides, she was also following the list she'd found in her bag days prior, and it was working.

Harry was making things harder if she was honest, with his puppy eyes and his soft hair... It was obvious that he was miserable– He was traumatized! He just didn't want to admit it, he didn't want to ask for help. Harry still flinched with loud noises, it was pure torture, seeing him in distress and not being able to help.

It was so strange, a few months ago she would've run through the castle to save him from a bug bite, now she would listen to his complaints and his yelling and immediately turn her back. She was sick of feeling.

Part of her kept thinking of the way Harry had broken her heart, but that wasn't it now, it was something else that she couldn't quite understand. Resentment... but towards what?

Was she mad about him being scared? Did she hate the fact that he wanted to protect her?

Did she hate that he didn't trust her to be strong enough? After all those years, and he still thought that she needed to be saved... As if she were nothing but a helpless sidekick.

'I'm not just a pretty face,' she thought bitterly.

No.

She was a pretty face, and she was popular because of that. But she was also a skilled witch and a great friend. She was the reason why Harry Potter was still alive.

It was time to be more than just a boy's best friend. She was ready to step into the spotlight, it didn't matter if she had to leave Harry behind.

She was walking alongside the twins and Lee Jordan, carrying a few bags of Zonko's and chatting cheerfully when someone called her name. Ginny appeared, followed by some Ravenclaws (including Ginny's boyfriend).

Mel was telling stories about her childhood, the group was laughing a lot. Life had improved, she'd taken Erick's advice and she was finally feeling like she belonged.

"This is it, right?" Terry Boot asked her.

Mel looked up at the sign and frowned.

"Here?"

"Hermione said this would be discrete," Ginny shrugged.

"A bunch of teenagers entering the sketchy bar?" Mel snorted. "Not suspicious at all..."

"Wait for us!"

Mel turned around and saw a bunch of students coming their way, her stomach did an odd flip: At least twenty or thirty people had come to the meeting.

"This isn't subtle at all," She said anxiously. "People will notice, they'll follow us in!"

"Er..." Ginny was looking at the bunch reluctantly, but Michael grabbed her hand and dragged her inside the pub at once.

Fred and George did the same with her and soon the group of students entered together. She was already breaking down, but what made her really want to retreat and forget she was ever there was the sight of a tall old man gazing at the bunch with a slightly startled expression.

It was her grandfather.

She tried to leave but Fred put an arm around her shoulders and walked up to the barman.

"Hi," He smiled. "Could we have... twenty-six butterbeers, please?"

Aberforth Dumbledore stared at her and then at the group, he threw aside the rag he'd been holding and then started passing up dusty butterbeer pretending he didn't recognize her. Or perhaps he really did not know who she was, they'd never seen each other in person.

Was she supposed to say something? Maybe 'Hey, you don't know me but your son was my dad! I know you want nothing to do with me, but maybe don't tell my uncle what we're doing? Thanks, Grandad!'

"Cheers!" Fred handed out the butterbeers to the rest. "Cough up, everyone, I haven't got enough gold for all of these..."

They handed the money to her and Fred, she pushed it roughly on the counter mumbling a 'Thanks' without making eye contact. Mel spotted Harry, Hermione and Ron at the very back and walked up to them, ready to kill Hermione.

"What were you thinking?" She hissed. "This looks suspicious in so many ways!"

"We'll be fine, here is less likely we get unwanted attention–"

"Oh, really?" Mel propped one hand on the table and whispered in a furious voice, "D'you know who the barman is?"

"Well, he's always been the barman here for all I know, so–"

"He's my grandad!"

The girl's eyes widened almost comically, Mel sat down next to Ron, her good mood vanishing completely.

"What have you been telling people? What are they expecting?" Harry asked anxiously.

"I've told you, they just want to hear what you've got to say. You don't have to do anything yet, I'll speak to them first," Hermione replied, a bit anxious now that she knew her mistake.

"Well that isn't soothing either," Mel grumbled, giving a large sip to her butterbeer.

"Hi, guys," Neville waved at them, one by one the students sat down around the table and waited patiently for them to speak.

"Er," said Hermione. "Well — er — hi."

Mel snorted and Ron kicked her leg under the table.

"Well... erm... well, you know why you're here. Erm... well, Harry here had the idea — I mean I had the idea — that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts — and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us — because nobody could call that Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Hear, hear," said Anthony Goldstein.

"Well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands. And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just theory but the real spells —"

"You want to pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. too though, I bet?" said Michael Corner.

"Of course I do, but I want more than that, I want to be properly trained in Defense because... because... Because Lord Voldemort's back."

The group let out their shock in different levels of surprise, some didn't look faced, merely annoyed at the mention, but once they were done they all focused on Harry and her.

"Well... that's the plan anyway," Hermione continued. "If you want to join us, we need to decide how we're going to —"

"Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?" said a Hufflepuff student.

Mel tilted her head, half amusement and half exasperation.

"Well, Dumbledore believes it —" Hermione began.

"You mean, the Dumbledores believe him," He nodded shortly at the boy. "Everyone knows Mel's crazy about Harry, and Dumbledore–"

"Who are you?" Ron interrupted with a tone of warning.

"Zacharias Smith– and I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes him say You-Know-Who's back."

"Oh, you think you've got the right?" Mel leaned forward but Ron pulled her back.

"Look," said Hermione. "that's really not what this meeting was supposed to be about —"

"It's okay, Hermione," Harry said lowly, then he directed his attention to the boy. "What makes me say You-Know-Who's back? I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you won't believe me or Mel, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone."

Mel tried hard not to look in the direction of her grandad, she had to at least pretend she didn't know him so she could deny the encounter in case Dumbledore found out, but she could see him clearly paying attention to their meeting.

"All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory's body back to Hogwarts. He didn't give us details, he didn't tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we'd all like to know —"

"If you've come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can't help you. I don't want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that's what you're here for, you might as well clear out."

She had to admit that Harry was doing a great job, this time she thought it was appropriate to be a bit rough with his answers, after all, this guy didn't have any right to demand stuff. She wondered if someone had approached Harry this way during the weeks she'd spent away from the group. How weird it was, being so foreign to Harry's experiences.

"So... so... like I was saying... if you want to learn some defence, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet, and where we're going to —" Hermione got interrupted again.

"Is it true that you can produce a Patronus?" Susan Bones asked.

"Yeah," said Harry, then added hurriedly as if that way he wouldn't get all the stares. "Mel too."

"A corporeal Patronus?"

"Er — you don't know Madam Bones, do you?" Harry asked.

Mel rolled her eyes, of course Harry didn't know his own classmates by name.

"She's my auntie," Susan said happily. "I'm Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So — is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"What about you, Mel?" Terry inquired.

"Mine's a phoenix," She said shortly.

The barman stopped cleaning at that.

"Blimey, guys!" said Lee. "I never knew that!"

"Mum told Ron not to spread it around," said Fred. "She said you got enough attention as it was."

"She's not wrong," mumbled Harry, causing a few to laugh.

"And did you kill a basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?" Terry Boot asked eagerly. "That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year..."

"Er — yeah, I did, yeah," Harry glanced at her, but Mel wasn't going to speak. All those questions were directed to him only.

"And in our first year," said Neville, sounding like he couldn't quite believe it yet, "he saved that Sorcerous Stone —"

"Sorcerer's," Hermione corrected.

"Yes, that, from You-Know-Who, and Mel," Neville laughed timidly. "Mel threw Professor Quirrell to the other end of the room without a wand."

"How d'you know–?" Mel started, but Cho interrupted.

"And that's not to mention all the tasks Harry had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year — getting past dragons and merpeople and acromantulas and things..."

Mel looked at the way Cho was smiling and the eager look on the boy's eyes. The girl tried –and failed– to ignore the fact that she could recognize it like the one he'd given her a year prior after almost kissing him.

"Look– I... I don't want to sound like I'm trying to be modest or anything, but... I had a lot of help with all that stuff..."

"Not with the dragon, you didn't," said Michael Corner. "That was a seriously cool bit of flying..."

"Yeah, well —" said Harry, brushing it away like a very annoying fly.

"And nobody helped you get rid of those dementors this summer," said Susan.

"No... no, okay, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I'm trying to make is —"

"Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?" said Zacharias.

"Here's an idea," said Ron, this time it was him the one who leaned further, "why don't you shut your mouth?"

"Well, we've all turned up to learn from him, and now he's telling us he can't really do any of it," Zacharias said, but his voice came out a bit quieter.

"That's not what he said," Fred frowned.

"Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?" George pulled a long and weird looking metal thingy from one of his bags.

"Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this," said Fred.

"Knock it off," Mel stopped them. "We're not here to fight."

The boys gave her a grumpy look but put the instruments away.

"Yes, well," Hermione cleared her throat, "moving on... the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry and Mel?" There was a buzz of agreement to which Hermione nodded once. "Right. Well, then, the next question is how often we do it. I really don't think there's any point in meeting less than once a week —"

"Hang on," said Angelina, "we need to make sure this doesn't clash with our Quidditch practice."

"No," said Cho, "nor with ours."

"Nor ours," added Zacharias.

"I'm sure we can find a night that suits everyone, but you know, this is rather important, we're talking about learning to defend ourselves against V-Voldemort's Death Eaters —"

"Well said! Personally, I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we'll do this year, even with our O.W.L.s coming up!" Ernie exclaimed eagerly. "I, personally, am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher upon us at this critical period. Obviously, they are in denial about the return of You-Know-Who, but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive spells —"

"Is not that she's useless," Mel spoke. "She knows Dark Magic well enough to defend herself against it, I'm sure of it. She just doesn't want us to know because she thinks we're planning on murdering the Minister." Some laughed, others stared at her in shock.

"We think the reason Umbridge doesn't want us trained in Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione, nodding at Mel's words. "is that she's got some... some mad idea that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as a kind of private army. She thinks he'd mobilize us against the Ministry."

"Well, that makes sense," Luna mentioned. "After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army."

"What?" said Harry.

"Yes, he's got an army of heliopaths."

"No, he hasn't," Hermione retorted.

"Yes, he has."

"What are heliopaths?" asked Neville.

"They're spirits of fire. Great tall flaming creatures that gallop across the ground burning everything in front of —"

"They don't exist, Neville," said Hermione.

"Oh yes, they do!"

"I'm sorry, but where's the proof of that?"

"There are plenty of eyewitness accounts, just because you're so narrow-minded you need to have everything shoved under your nose before you —"

"Thank you, Luna," Mel said. "I think we should go back to the important subjects of this meeting."

"Hem, hem," Ginny cleared her throat like Umbridge with a horrifying accuracy. "Weren't we trying to decide how often we're going to meet and get Defense lessons?"

"Yes. Yes, we were, you're right..." Hermione sighed.

"Well, once a week sounds cool," said Lee Jordan.

"As long as —" began Angelina.

"Yes, yes, we know about the Quidditch. Well, the other thing to decide is where we're going to meet..."

"Library?" suggested Katie Bell.

"I can't see Madam Pince being too chuffed with us doing jinxes in the library," said Harry, then added in a low voice so only Mel could hear. "But it sure is a good place for secret meetings..."

She knew he was talking about Erick, but her mind went to the afternoons spent there with Harry.

"Maybe an unused classroom?" said Dean.

"Yeah, McGonagall might let us have hers, she did when Harry was practising for the Triwizard..." Ron mentioned.

"McGonagall asked us to keep a low profile," Mel raised a brow. "What part of 'secret study group against Umbridge' sounds innocent to you?"

"The study part," Her friend replied with a smirk.

"Right, well, we'll try to find somewhere," Hermione shrugged. "We'll send a message round to everybody when we've got a time and a place for the first meeting." She then searched in her bag and pulled parchment and a quill. "I-I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here. But I also think that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we're doing. So if you sign, you're agreeing not to tell Umbridge — or anybody else — what we're up to."

"'Mione–" Mel started, but Fred took the parchment and signed, then winked at her. George followed suit. "All right then..."

"Er..." Zacharias looked at the paper reluctantly. "Well... I'm sure Ernie will tell me when the meeting is."

"I — well, we are prefects," Ernie let out anxiously. "And if this list was found... well, I mean to say... you said yourself, if Umbridge finds out..."

"You just said this group was the most important thing you'd do this year," Harry reminded him.

"I — yes," said Ernie, "yes, I do believe that it's just..."

"Ernie, do you really think I'd leave that list lying around?" said Hermione.

"No. No, of course not... I — yes, of course, I'll sign."

The parchment moved around until it came back to Zacharias.

"What's the matter, Smith?" Mel smirked. "You're not trying to weasel out, are you?"

He looked at her with indignation, let out a scoff and took the parchment, signing down his name.

"Well, time's ticking on," Fred stood up. "George, Lee, and I have got items of a sensitive nature to purchase, we'll be seeing you all later. Coming, Lady?"

"Er..." Mel looked around and found Cho staring eagerly at Harry. She shook her head. "No, I think I'll spend the rest of the day with 'Mione and the boys, thanks."

"Well, I think that went quite well," said Hermione once they walked out of the Hog's Head. Mel had glanced back at the old man once before leaving, unable to say a thing.

"That Zacharias bloke's a wart," grumbled Ron.

"Sure is," Mel scowled. "What an idiot, thinking we owe him an explanation..."

"I don't like him much either," Hermione nodded, "but he overheard me talking to Ernie and Hannah at the Hufflepuff table and he seemed really interested in coming, so what could I say? But the more people the better really — I mean, Michael Corner and his friends wouldn't have come if his friends weren't all crazy about Mel and he hadn't been going out with Ginny —"

Mel let out a short squeak and Ron choked on the last bit of butterbeer he'd been drinking.

"He's WHAT?" Ron yelled. "She's going out with — my sister's going — what d'you mean, Michael Corner?"

"Well, that's why he and his friends came, I think —" Hermione shrugged. "Well, they're obviously interested in learning defence, but if Ginny hadn't told Michael what was going on, and his friends weren't trying to win Mel over —"

"That's ridiculous!" Mel blushed madly. "I– They–"

"When did this — when did she — ?" Ron stuttered as well.

"They met at the Yule Ball and they got together at the end of last year," said Hermione, guiding them to the entrance of a shop. "Hmm... I could do with a new quill."

"Which one was Michael Corner?" Ron demanded.

"The dark one," said Hermione.

"I didn't like him," said Ron at once.

Mel came out of her trance, giving Ron an amused look.

"You've never spoken to him!"

"Big surprise," Hermione whispered.

"But– I thought Ginny fancied Harry!"

Hermione looked at Mel for a moment before responding.

"Ginny used to fancy Harry, but she gave up on him months ago... when we thought... well... Not that she doesn't like you, of course," Hermione added towards Harry.

Harry merely shrugged, his eyes wondering outside the window, probably looking for a certain raven-haired girl.

"So that's why she talks now? She never used to talk in front of me..."

"Exactly," Hermione glanced at Mel once more. "Yeah, she's not as nervous as before... I think she really is over it... Yes, I think I'll have this one..."

Mel felt a bit jealous of Ginny, she was capable of moving on just like that and find a good boy. Not that she didn't deserve it, Ginny was awfully pretty and she was fun to hang out with, she deserved to date and have fun! She wanted to have that, but if it meant she had to date someone as silly as Anthony Goldstein, she wasn't sure she'd be moving on any time soon.

Her mind wondered once again to Harry, she wanted to know what his opinion was on this whole thing because he was being really confusing. On a good day, she could still see a type of softness on his gaze when talking to her, but more often than not he would be grumpy and serious, not even trying to be nice. She just wanted to know what he was thinking, was that really so hard?

"Ron," Hermione's voice escalated. "This is exactly why Ginny hasn't told you she's seeing Michael, she knew you'd take it badly. So don't harp on about it, for heaven's sake."

"What d'you mean, who's taking anything badly? I'm not going to harp on about anything..."

But he remained pouty and serious for the rest of the day.

Next Chapter —>

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