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too-much-tma-stuff · 2 months

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Finally Getting Help (pt 3)

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What Tim and Bruce found was completely ridiculous. It really wasn’t hard to find the Doctors Fenton’s website but it was ridiculous! It was outdated and gaudy with animations of cartoony ghosts everywhere. If it hadn’t been for how clear Danny was about his parents' names Tim would have skipped right over it. But when he got past the terrible website design and started reading it his stomach just dropped lower and lower.

The writing was clean and scientific though it couldn’t disguise the malicious delight they took in tearing the creatures they called ‘ghosts’ apart. Whatever these ghosts really were Danny had been internalizing this attitude about Himself for years! They also bragged about their weapons and their government contract. So whether that was true or not Danny hadn’t been lying or delusional, it was his parents. And regardless of what these ghosts actually were it was obvious they were supernatural so RR sent a link to the website to Zatana.

(link)

RR: What do you think?

Tana: Lol is this a joke?

RR: I wish, I know it looks like one but no, this is deadly serious.

Tana: Hang on

Red Robin put down his phone to give Zatana the time to read over the site and looked more into Maddy and Jack Fenton while she did. He found their graduation certificates, and pictures of them in college with what must have been a much younger Vlad. So they were actually doctors of some sort, they had their doctorate, though that didn’t exactly make it any less likely they had gone fully off the rails now.

His phone dinged and he picked it up to see one short message from Zatana.

Tana: I’m coming to the cave.

Tim sighed and put his phone back down, spinning his chair to face B who was hunched over the computer typing furiously. “Zatana is on her way, I asked for her opinion of the Fenton’s research and she must think it’s big.” He said as he dug out a domino mask.

“Hm,” B sounded and went to get his cowl. “Report?”

“The Doctors Fenton are doctors, they got their doctorates though I don’t know in what yet. They’ve been friends with Vlad since university and they certainly at least think they’re studying ghosts. Their website has articles on behaviours and biology, and how to hunt and hurt ghosts. They brag about a government contract.” Tim summarized. “You?”

“The Ghost Investigation Ward does exist and they are a government agency but they only seem to be active in the town of Amity Park and they’re so inept! It wasn’t hard to hack them, they’re trying to sound mysterious and a little dangerous talking about protecting humanity from invasions from other worlds but I don’t think they’re actually that competent,” Batman said with a scowl.

“The only reason we didn’t know about this was because we weren’t looking! And it’s possible Danny is right and they were jamming calls from Amity to the JL, but I have a terrible feeling what actually happened if that the call came through and someone heard them talking about ghosts and rogue government agencies, assumed it was a prank and blocked them,” Bruce said massaging his temples.

“Ah,” Tim said, his heart dropping at how plausible that sounded. Could they have saved Danny before, if they had taken that call seriously.

“And Vlad is the mayor of his town, there are articles about Danny fighting him in public. It seems like everyone knew their relationship was antagonistic at best and No One defended him. The GIW also listed him in their special thanks for helping fund them. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been using them as a tool to threaten and control Danny.” Batman said with cold fury. Tim took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.

“We weren’t able to protect him, but we will avenge him. And we’ll keep him safe Now,” Tim reminded his father. Privately thinking that as soon as he could he was going to tell Jason about this so they could Really make sure Vlad never came near Danny again. An arrest just wasn’t strong enough for a man like that. He wasn’t going to tell Bruce that though, obviously.

The sound of the Zeta tube interrupted their moment as Zatana arrived, looking slightly more ruffled then she usually did. She must have really rushed here, which was a bit worrying.

“Zatana,” Batman greeted.

“Hello Batman, before we talk I need to check your wards.” She said already walking past them.

“Hm,” Batman sounded, making RR smile a little, how Batman made that sound mean so many different things always sort of amazed him.

“I need to check the ones on your home too. And I’d like to meet the boy you have under your care,” She said briskly.

“How did you know about the boy?” Batman asked gruffly.

“Lucky guess,” she said briskly, her hands glowed as she walked around the cave, making seemingly random gestures as if touching or pulling on invisible threads. None of the bats really understood magic so they left her to it. When she was done they let her up into the manner, she knew their identities already after all and she checked all the wards on the home very thoroughly, occasionally casting spells to reinforce them. They collected Dick and Damian trailing after them curiously as they went as well.

“Alright, can I meet the boy now?” She asked, turning towards Bruce who crossed his arms and puffed out his chest a bit.

“Not till you explain to us what’s going on,” He growled and Zatana looked over the curious stubborn faces surrounding her and sighed.

“Fine,” she allowed, resigned. She rubbed her temples as she looked around for a chair and sunk down into it. “So what the Fentons seem to be referring to as Ghosts are actually denizens of the Infinite Realms, the space in between every world and afterlife. Some of the beings there were once people who died but many aren’t. They’re also known to be very powerful and quite violent though thankfully not particularly interested in the living. The fact that the Government is apparently messing with something like this is very bad news.

“Constantine and I have been keeping half an eye on the situation in Amity Park but they had their own pair of Heroes, Phantom and Red Huntress, who seemed to have the situation well under control so we weren’t all that worried about it. We weren’t tracking the more human elements of the GIW and the Fentons,” She bit her lip and thought for a moment.

“When Tim sent me that website and I was made aware of those, that changed things. What’s worse is the photo the Fentons’ have of their family. Their son… we knew Phantom looked young but ghosts often stay at a younger age than they really are, with how powerful he was we assumed he was Old. But he looks exactly like the Fenton’s son. Did they not notice he was dead or…” She looked around at their faces, apparently getting her answer from their expressions.

“There have been rumours for a long time about a very rare and powerful sort of living dead, humans soaked in the pure energy of the infinite realms resulting in a still living ancient. It’s so rare that people usually think it’s a fairy tale but with the work Phantom’s parents do it makes a sick sort of sense. And what it means is that that boy you have stashed away is basically a baby God and we all have to be very careful.”

There was a heavy silence as they all processed what she was saying. “Are you… sure?” Tim asked, uncertainly.

“I won’t be till I meet him, but I’m as sure as I can be without that at the moment,” she said firmly.

Tim sighed and pulled out his phone. “Cas is with him, I’ll text her to see if she’s up to meeting you. If he’s that powerful we don’t want to push him right?” He asked as he typed out a text to Cas.

“Yes. Like I said he’s been acting as a hero in Amity, he seems like a good kid but I have no doubt in my mind if he’s pushed too far we could have a truly apocalyptic situation on our hands,” She said which made Tim swallow thickly.

His phone dinged and he checked it. “Danny is willing to meet you but he’s really tired so go easy on him and don’t stay long,” Tim relayed her message.

“Alright that’s fine, thank you. Show me the way please,” She requested.

Bruce took over, leaving the way. “We don’t want to overwhelm him, I think only I and Zatana should go in, with Cas still there since he seems to feel safe with her,” Bruce informed his children.

“Alright, just tell us everything soon!” Dick demanded and Bruce’s lips twitched up in just the suggestion of a smile as he nodded to them.

He took off his cowl, he wasn’t in his full uniform anyway and he didn’t want to scare Danny. Besides if he had been a hero even if he clocked Bruce he would understand.

“Hello Danny, it’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Zatana,” She introduced herself s she followed Bruce in. She would have offered her hand to shake but Danny was half hiding behind Cas sitting on the bed.

“It’s nice to meet you too. What’s with the outfit?” He asked curiously which made her laugh.

“I’m a hero, one of the less known ones. I’m part of Justice League Dark which is their supernatural division along with Constantine and Deadman and a few others. He’s a ghost, but I assure you the government hasn’t been giving him any trouble, probably because they knew they wouldn’t get away with it.”

“So I’m just lucky then,” Danny said with a bitter curl to his lips.

“As a hero, I want to ask, are you Phantom?” She asked rather bluntly.

Bruce shivered as the temperature in the room suddenly dropped a few degrees and Danny’s eyes started to swirl with green as he glared at Zatana who managed to barely react. Batman noticed how her back tensed a bit but it was barely there. “You know?” Danny demanded. “You knew about what was going on in Amity and you didn’t help?!”

“I’m very sorry Danny,” She said genuinely. “We knew something was going on, but we didn’t look closely enough. We thought that you were an older ghost just of someone who died young because of your strength, and it looked like things were under control. Normally our involvement wouldn’t have been appreciated, intruding on someone’s haunt, so we didn’t look any closer. I am so sorry we overlooked you but we’re going to make up for it now I promise.

“I’ve checked and reinforced the wards on the house so nothing should be able to come in uninvited, and I’m going to contact the rest of the JLD. We’re going to go to Amity, we’ll figure this out and deal with it I promise.”

The temperature in the room slowly went back up, Danny was still upset, but he didn’t seem like he was about to snap anymore. While Zatana had been talking Cas had started gently rubbing Danny’s back and that seemed to be helping too. After a moment Danny looked up again and nodded, accepting the help.

“The veil must be very thin there, to let so many ghosts through?” Zatana probed gently.

“It is, but more than that two years ago my parents succeeded in building a portal to what they call the Ghost Zone. This kinda green world of floating islands.

“A portal,” Zatana said flatly, blinking rapidly. “To the Infinite Realms?”

“Ah is that what it’s really called? Ya probably? That’s how everyone’s been getting through. How I got my powers too, the ghosts call me a halfa, but I’m not the only one. Vlad’s one too.”

Batman heard Zatana mutter “Two?” softly, baffled and alarmed but she nodded. Bruce filed that information away too, it seemed Vlad was even more of a threat then he’d first appeared to be.

“Alright, I’ll get as many of the JLD together as I can and we’ll head to Amity. We’ll shut down the portal and deal with this.” She said determinedly.

From the look on Danny’s face he didn’t really believe her, but he nodded again and leaned against Cas. “Good luck I suppose,” he muttered and sighed, rubbing his face.

“Just… tell me if you get in over your heads okay, I’m used to dealing with all this stuff.” God he sounded so tired, the poor kid.

“I will, but don’t worry about us, just take care of yourself okay? This is a good place to be, I promise you won’t have to be alone anymore.” Zatana assured him. She probably had more questions, but it was very obvious that Danny was getting tired.

“Bruce is good dad,” Cas chimed in, speaking up for the first time. It embarrassed Bruce a little but he smiled at them and nodded a little.

“Thank you,” Danny said, his shoulder slumped and his back curled. “Can I go to bed now?”

“Of course Chum,” Bruce agreed, starting to shoo Zatana out of the bedroom with Cas on their heels. When they closed the door behind them Bruce heard the lock click quietly closed behind them. He really hoped that Danny would feel safe enough to sleep well.

@zlinen @sebas-nights @littlefeather345 @isnt-that-grape @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @shadowkatt99 @fantasticstoryteller @blackshuckatdusk @blacksea21090 @sithlordchimchnga @fanfictionforme2 @imalittlefangirl25 @bushbees @yotsubaayase @thomasdimensor @ultimatebluff

#red robin #danny phantom #dp x dc #batman #bruce wayne #fanfiction #tim drake #zatana #cassandra cain #the fentons are bad parents #Vlad is a creep #misunderstanding #danny is pregnant au #mama danny #bad parents jack and maddie

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mortiferumsomnum · 2 years

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Jason Todd’s Cooking: Ghost King Approved!

A continuation to THIS post!! EDIT: MASTERLIST

Jason wanted to punch Danny.

Don’t get him wrong! The kid’s a delight to be with! He’s compassionate, sassy, and a huge nerd on anything related to space. The daily hugs the kid had been giving him had also been curing him of his Lazarus Madness, allowing Jason to sleep at night without any bloodthirsty thoughts to ruin his night... morning... whatever.

But when you have dozens of ghosts lined up at your door at ass-o’clock in the morning, whispering of how they wanted to have a taste of your “Cooking the Ghost King Approves”, even you would want to punch the ghost-kid’s face. It didn’t matter if his coronation to Official King-hood is tomorrow.

He also looks like the Demon Brat, so his punchable-looking face enhanced!

They haven’t seen Jason yet, who was hiding behind some building and was still in his Red Hood gear. How did these ghosts even find out where his civilian self lived----- Dannyyyyyyyy. Of course these ghosts would keep tabs of where their Beloved Ghost King was frequenting. Fuck. He needs to get out of here.

How are these ghosts even going to eat Jason’s food anyways?! Can they?! He thought Danny was the only ghostly being capable of stomaching food from the living realm!!!

The ghosts looked really weird too. Unlike Danny, who looked a bit more alive what with his skin color becoming like Damian’s when in his Ghost Form, these ghosts are either blue or green. Some had human forms, others looked like blobs.

Jason furrowed his brows under his mask. How the fuck is he even able to see these ghosts?! The only ghost he’s only able to see was Danny for these past few days! Did being with the Ghost King... enhance his ability to see ghosts?! Or were these ghosts just powerful enough to keep a form?

So many questions!! Tim and Bernard would have a field day trying to investigate this. He could already imagine all the whiteboard markers and whiteboards the two were going to invest in, throwing idea, theory and facts at each other until they’ve gotten The Whole Truth of the matter down to their satisfaction.

Yeahhhhhh, no. Nope. Not dealing with this anymore. Jason has recently began caring about his mental health now that he’s slowly been purified. He’s not going to let his progress flop with an encounter like this.

He was about to fuck off to one of his safe-houses when he heard a familiar voice.

“What in Ancients’ name are you all doing here?!”

It was Danny, floating above them with his arms crossed and a glare on his face. Tim and Bernard tried to explain to Jason what the ghostly glamour was doing to avoid him from recognizing Danny’s face, but Jason was busy relaxing in Danny’s purification hugs to listen to the two excitable puppies yip theories at him. But, if the glamour weren’t there, Jason could bet that the glare would look similar, if not identical, to Damian’s.

“Your Highness!” the ghosts greeted, bowing towards Danny before excitedly straightening up.

They all talked at the same time, trying to explain their reasoning. It was entertaining how the little blob ghosts cooed and did little flips in the air.

With one hand held up from Danny, they all shut up.

“I don’t want to know your reasons, nor do I want to know how you all found out about this place,” he said. The way the kid said it reminded him too much of Bruce when he’s about to ground the batkids (Jason included). Then, Danny pointed to the side, a portal open that was definitely made by Danny himself. “I want all of you back to the Ghost Zone in the next minute. Do not disturb this place again.”

All the ghosts deflated, the human-looking ones slouching and hunching their shoulders, as they all floated into the portal. They all mumbled their apologies as they did so. Once the final, sad blob ghost plopped itself into the swirling portal, Danny closed it and turned to Jason with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry about that, man,” he said.

Jason walked up to him with hands in his pockets, chuckling. “Must be tough running a kingdom, Your Highness.”

Danny groaned. “Please don’t call me that,” he whined.

“But Your Highness,” said Jason dramatically, because he’s a little shit like that, “I am but a mere commoner! I wouldn’t dare address you so informally!”

Danny snorted, punching playfully at Jason’s shoulder. “You’re an ass!”

Jason grinned. “Good.”

Then, as if remembering something, Danny brings out an envelope from one of his ghostly pockets and hands it to Jason. “Clockwork has a job for you,” he said. “But you can refuse if you don’t wanna do it. It’s a really tiring job, and you’d only be paid in ghost money, which isn’t even applicable in the mortal realm.”

Jason took the envelope, opened it, and looked over the cursive writing he imagined characters in Jane Austen’s books writing like. Well, almost like. The ink was in Neon Green.

“This Clock-y dude is...”

“He’s basically my advisor,” Danny said, not explaining more.

Jason hummed in response. Then, he shrugged.

“Tell Clock-y I’m not doing it, then,” he said, folding the letter and placing it back inside the envelope. “We’ll have our own feast here, with Timmy, Berny and your freaky friends. I’m not cooking for some stuffy, rich ghosts.”

Danny laughed. “I’ll tell Clockwork that,” he said with a grin. “I think he also wanted to taste your food.”

Jason huffed, waving a hand in the air. “If that’s all, I’m gonna head into my apartment and get some much needed sleep, thank you.”

Danny nodded towards him. “Sure,” he said, then he opened his arms. On instinct, Jason hugged Danny back. There was no purification happening, it was just a hug. And, damn, does this kid give good hugs. The Demon Brat should learn from him.

“Thanks,” Danny said when they pulled away.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason said, already walking to his home. “Get going kid.”

Danny chuckled.

Jason then heard the sound of a portal opening. The moment Jason unlocked his door, Danny had already left.

********

[Bonus Scene: Time with Tim!!!]

Tim wanted to punch Danny.

Now don’t get Tim wrong. He likes Danny. He doesn’t try to kill or maim him, he doesn’t insult him, and he even lets Tim hang out with him when he goes exploring to different parts of the Earth! Initially, it was to help him find his clone-sister that he hasn’t seen for 3 months because they ended up becoming a bit too competitive in their Global-Hide-and-Seek. After meeting Dani, the invitations to illegally visit other countries together became more and more. Bernard came with them sometimes. Heck, even Jason tagged along in some of them.

Where was Tim going with this again?

Oh yeah, punching Danny. Right.

You see... There was this baby ghost with a grandfather clock ticking in his chest and a clock in his staff floating in his apartment. And when the baby talked, he sounded like a grown man.

He called himself Clockwork. The Master of Time.

It’s only been 32 hours since he last slept. So, this definitely cannot be one of his sleep-deprived hallucinations.

And Danny mentioned a Clockwork once.... ohhhhhh.....

“Yes, oh.”

Now, Tim only knows Clockwork based on what Danny had told him. That he is a mentor and advisor, a friend and a parental figure. But, what Tim does not know is whether this... entity... wouldn’t attack him or see Tim as a threat.

So, you see why he wanted to punch him?? Tim shouldn’t be meeting ghosts while sleep-deprived, and now he’s meeting someone who may very well be a god.

And, well, this is Tim’s Fourth encounter with a ghost (his third encounter being with Cujo the ghost dog). Not all ghosts are going to be as friendly as Danny.

“I admire your alertness in this situation,” said the baby, and suddenly, the baby turned into an adult man. “But I come here in peace,” he continued. Now, he turned into an old man. “And I come here to ask for assistance.” He turned back into a baby.

Tim could only blink. He was still holding the papers to the latest cold case he was solving and he was swaying on his feet.

“Uhhhhh....”

“It involves the Ra’s Al Ghul,” he said.

Tim’s brain restarted. His whole body suddenly became very alert. The tiredness he was feeling was no longer there, and Tim had Clockwork’s full attention.

“What about him?” he asked.

Clockwork morphed into an adult, and then into an old man, stroking his beard as he waved his staff.

As if looking at a hologram, an image of Ra’s Al Ghul floated into the air. And, with a light tap, it was like watching a video start playing.

“Pathetic,” Ra’s spat.

The scene panned to Danny on the ground, heaving and crying as he clutched... Damian to his chest. Behind Danny, there laid familiar figures: himself, Jason, Dick and Bruce, and farther away was Danny’s friends that Tim had only seen in photos. Even without physically checking, Tim could tell that they were all... dead.

“Because of you, I have lost my heir,” said Ra’s. “My daughter had lost her dear son. And this world had lost some of the best heroes.”

“Shut up,” Danny growled. And that growl brought shivers down Tim’s spine.

“You call yourself a King? Well, I guess now you have gained more subjects to your pathetic little kingdom.”

“I said... Shut. UP!”

Tim watched with wide eyes as Ra’s was flown back. Then, as Ra’s back hit the wall, Tim watched as his soul was brought out of the old man’s body. Danny was there in front of Ra’s in an instant, clutching at his ghostly neck, and snarling with red eyes and skin turning from Damian’s lively brown to a ghostly blue pallor. Tim felt goosebumps forming on his arms.

Ra’s was writhing in Danny’s hold, clawing at Danny’s arms to try and get even an inch of oxygen. But Ra’s is a ghost in this vision of the future. He did not need to breathe. He needed to escape.

Ra’s form began to glow, and the old man began to scream.

Danny’s hold became tighter and tighter on Ra’s, not blinking for a second when the light turned blinding, causing Tim to close his eyes. Then, when he opened them, in Danny’s hand was... a glowing sphere.

“That is a core,” Clockwork said from behind him. Tim made no move to look towards him, only focusing on what Danny was going to do with it. “A core is what brings life to ghosts, as it is both their heart and their mind. Their soul. Their source of life. Without it, a ghost would not exist any longer.”

And just as Clockwork had finished explaining, Tim watched as Danny destroyed Ra’s core.

Danny then turned to look behind him. It was void of any emotion. So empty. It was back to its regular neon green, but it didn’t glow with life like the current Danny does.

One last look around, Danny snarled once more. He clenches his fists, and his eyes turned red. Then, Tim watched as Danny screamed to the sky, destroying everything around him.

The vision ended.

Tim had so many thoughts. So many questions.

“This future is not definite,” Clockwork says, and continuing as he turns into an adult, “and there are choices that can be made to avoid this.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” Tim asked. “I’m thankful that you’re giving me a warning, something to investigate so that I could keep my family safe, but I have a feeling that this isn’t about my family at all. Neither was it about Ra’s, was it.”

“It is not,” said Clockwork, turning into an old man. Interestingly, this version of Clockwork reminded him of a grieving Alfred, whose eyes and expression made him look older and tired. “It is to avoid what Danny may become.”

What he may become.

Tim thinks of Bruce when he lost Jason. Bruce who became aggressive to the point he was close to killing himself. Bruce who needed a Robin to gain back the light in his eyes and become the Batman that the people of Gotham trusted to protect them.

However, unlike when he was young, he had experienced many things. Although it was him that Clockwork was showing this to, Tim knew that Tim wasn’t the only person that could help make a change to keep this future from happening. He wouldn’t have to take up the responsibility by himself.

Danny has people who would be by his side no matter what. Support him no matter the struggle. Perhaps it was because Tim learned all this that Clockwork was telling him.

And, yes. Clockwork seemed to know what Tim was thinking, because he gave him a grin, morphing into an adult. “It seems that my time here is up,” he said, opening a portal for himself. And without another word, Clockwork was gone.

#ayyyyy #dc x dp #dp x dc #jason todd #tim drake #danny fenton #danny phantom #this is a thank you for reading my other post!!#i hope you all like it!! uwu

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ofthecaravel · 1 month

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Heaven In Time

Chapter 1: Thoroughfare

Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka

Summary: Danny, en route to California to find love, picked up small town runaway Sam on a Texas thoroughfare and has been on the road ever since. While Sam adjusts to life as himself, Danny's wondering if he's found love without even leaving the South.

Tags: Religious trauma, mentions of homophobia, Anxiety, very sweet little crushes, idk all very soft when its not Tense

Words: 5.4k

A/N: HEAVILYYYYYY inspired by Thoroughfare by Ethel Cain, even borrowed a lyric here and there. Any and all credit to my beloved Hayden. First chapter of ??? maybe 4?? but I haven't decided. There's going to be more mention of Sam's questionable Southern Baptist Christian upbringing in those and I understand that may not be everyone's cup of tea so feel free to scroll if that may be upsetting for you.

“Do you think we’re gonna get arrested?”

Over the gentle splash of the thin, chlorinated water, Sam heard Danny’s long sigh. Usually he laughed at all of Sam’s misplaced little comments and queries, but sometimes he just sighed. Sam knew he didn’t mean anything harsh by it, but it definitely didn’t feel good.

“Not if you don’t say anything,” Danny answered plainly. A smile ghosted his tired face as he rotated to face Sam, who stared back as he awkwardly bobbed with his long hair trailing behind him like a veil. After however many dusty miles and state lines they’d crossed, it always felt good when they had a motel to crash at instead of the cramped cabin of Danny’s pickup. And it felt twice as good when the motel had a pool, especially when it was nice and late at night and there was no one else around. Sam wasn’t much of a swimmer, but he was happy to tread water and watch Danny float. His broad chest would peek just over the surface of the water and his eyes would close while his dark curls moved like the fingers of lazy clouds.

Yeah, Sam was happy to watch that.

“It doesn’t feel right,” Sam murmured, watching his fingers flex anxiously under the water in the refracted view the harsh fluorescents provided. With the country sky full of nothing but mosquitoes and the occasional whistling breeze, the yellowing pool lights were the only thing illuminating them. Sam felt suddenly self conscious thinking of how washed out he must look in this rare moment where he was the one being watched. He turned to the side, only offering Danny his profile.

“They won’t know the credit card ain’t mine until we’re in Arizona,” Danny insisted in a hushed voice. “And even then, I didn’t give the desk my real name. We’re golden if you can keep that mouth of yours shut. Can you do that for me, cowboy?”

“Sure I can.” Sam bristled, but knew Danny’s request was justified. Ever since Danny had taken pity on him and picked him up on that thoroughfare back in Texas, Sam never seemed to be able to do the right thing. He had gotten as far as he had in an attempt to remove himself from the suppressing influence of his uber religious hometown, but so far it seemed like he was still dragging it along with him. It was an embarrassing first impression to leave on someone as great as Danny was turning out to be, but he hadn’t left Sam behind yet, so Sam figured he must have some redeeming qualities that kept him around.

“Atta boy,” Danny smiled, his eyes closing as he lolled his head back and drew in a deep breath of the cool night air. “Christ alive, I needed this. How long do you think we drove today?”

“5 hours?” Sam guessed, thinking back on the day. “Felt longer ‘cause of the sun.”

“Damn that sun,” Danny cursed. “Burned the hell out of my nose, too.”

“We can get lotion or something at the next gas station,” Sam offered. Truthfully, he found the ruddy blush on Danny’s nose and freckled cheeks extremely flattering, but he knew it had to hurt. Growing up in Alabama, Sam knew a thing or two about sunburn.

“With what money?” Danny laughed humorlessly, sighing again and running a hand over his face. “Although at this point, I’d be willing to skip a dinner to get my hands on some lotion. Mm. Not that I don’t appreciate your presence, but...”

Sam blinked blankly, feeling an implication pass him by like they often did. He didn’t say anything in return and sank a little further into the pool, trying not to feel even more stupid than he already did. Being tired certainly wasn’t helping, but he was really starting to feel the weight of all of his graceless actions from the past week pile on him as they swam in silence. Hopefully Danny would want to head up to their room soon and Sam could just try again the next day.

Danny noticed Sam’s silence and opened his heavy eyes to observe him with a worried look. Sam’s neck was craned and the sharp point of his nose grazed the water as he continued to stare into the palms of his submerged hands. He was halfway to prayer by the looks of it, and Danny guessed that probably wasn’t too far from the truth. It was a state of mind Sam never really seemed to leave. Danny remembered the scandalized look on Sam’s face when they’d shared their first diner meal together and Danny had picked his fork right up and gotten to work when the waitress had brought their plates. Now he knew to wait and let Sam save them with a quick round of grace before eating. Sam had never asked for his hand to hold when doing it, but somewhere between the Texas border and New Mexico, Danny had offered it up and they’d been doing it that way ever since. It sure made it a hell of a lot more tolerable for Danny to wait for Sam’s long winded recitations with his slender hand in Danny’s. He really didn’t mind too much, especially after he’d begun collecting little glimpses of the seemingly excruciating evangelical life that Sam had left behind in Alabama. Danny didn’t pry, but there was a lot about Sam that he didn’t know. He watched Sam lit up in the pale, shifting luminance coming from the pool and realized with a strange, absent pang that he wanted to know. Maybe all of it, actually.

“Not a star in the sky,” Danny commented dreamily, tilting his neck back to stare at the pitch black sky after another long minute of staring at Sam left him feeling flushed. “It was always easy to pick ‘em out when I was on the farm, but I really have to squint when I’m in cities sometimes. It’s a crying shame.”

“We had to have all the lights out in town at a certain time so I always got to see the stars,” Sam replied in a small voice. “My brothers were always looking for Castor and Pollux, but we got lost after finding Orion every single time. Always forgot whether to look up or down or west or what.”

Sam smiled at the memory, remembering watching his older brothers bicker in whispers in front of the window while pressing fingers to the glass and eventually calling Sam in for help. Their parents fell asleep fast and heavy, so nights were usually when he and his siblings really got to be themselves. Sam found himself tired during the days almost all the time, but he’d carried his drooping eyelids with a bounce in his step. Even on the rare instances when he dozed off during study or services, he’d take a ruler to the knuckles with a smile.

“I’ve always been partial to Orion,” Danny agreed, searching it out as he said it. “Probably because it’s easy to find and I’m a simple man when it comes to stuff like that.”

“You’re plenty smart,” Sam complimented. He finally lifted his head from his gloomy stance, his ear resting on his shoulder as he turned his smile on Danny. “Especially with maps. We’d be halfway to Argentina if I were the one navigating.”

“I wouldn’t mind that at all,” Danny laughed. “We can go there after we find love in California, how about that?”

“Perfect,” Sam complied, feeling a familiar sour rush of adrenaline when reminded of their end goal. It was ignorant to feel shocked over and over when he thought about it, especially considering that talk of Danny’s unknown Californian love were some of the first words Danny had ever said to him. Danny had pulled up next to Sam on the side of the road in his beat up pick up truck, told him not to run, and asked if he wanted to go see the West with him.

“‘Cause love’s out there,” Daniel had explained after Sam had hopped right in. “And I can’t leave it be.”

And Sam had agreed. Out of luck to spend and no more energy in his body to spend on walking, it was the perfect escape. It still was. It’s just that the more time he shared with Danny, the more he disliked the thought of Danny sharing time with anyone other than him. Sam was suddenly very sure he was greedy and selfish and wicked, and he made plans to pray on it after Danny had gone to sleep.

“Smart,” Danny echoed with an airy laugh, finally lifting his hair from the water and shaking his head slightly. “I don’t know about all that. If this were a movie, I’m pretty sure I’d be the muscle of the operation.”

“I guess that’d make sense. How much can you lift?”

Danny gave Sam a mischievous look and shrugged, hoping the smirk creeping onto his face didn’t give away his plans for what he’d do next.

“Not sure,” Danny answered coolly. “How much do you weigh?”

Before Sam could respond, Danny rushed forward as fast as the water allowed and grabbed Sam around the waist, boosting him up with a noisy splash. Sam shrieked initially, but it gave way to a surprised laugh, every nerve alight with buzzing heat as Danny lifted him up. Danny could only manage to keep him up for another few moments before buckling at the knee from the close contact, allowing Sam a little time to plug his nose before Danny dunked him under.

Sam met the shifting blur of the pale water and felt a jarring, overwhelming peace as the water swallowed all sound and sensation and he began to sink to the bottom. For a second, he thought he might like to stay there forever, just floating and free from everything he didn’t understand about what was happening to him, what had already happened. What he wanted to happen.

Sam didn’t even feel the sizzle of his lungs begging for air until he opened his eyes best he could and saw the blur of what was waiting for him up above.

Now, Sam had obviously been far too young for him to remember his baptism, but as he brought himself back to consciousness and pushed himself out of the water and into Danny’s arms, he imagined it was a similar experience. Without really thinking, his arms went around Danny’s neck and he breathed in a great, shuddering gasp, desperately filling his chest with air as Danny’s arms reflexively wrapped around him and kept Sam pinned to his chest as he coughed.

“Fuck, Sam, did you forget to breathe?” Danny whispered urgently, resisting the urge to shout and wake the other motel patrons. “I mean, pardon my French, but you scared the shit out of me for a second there!”

“Sorry,” Sam choked out as he began to control his breathing and let it give way to an embarrassed laugh. “I got distracted for a minute.”

“Yeah, I’d definitely say you were coming up on a minute!” Danny sputtered, patting Sam’s back in a last ditch effort to knock any water loose. “I’ve never seen anyone go that long underwater. Good lord. You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m okay, I promise,” Sam insisted, leaning back to flash Danny a sincere look of assurance. Curiously, he didn’t feel the need to unlock his arms from behind Danny’s neck when doing so. In the same way, Danny didn’t feel the need to release his grip on Sam, keeping their bare chests flush as Sam comically mimicked drawing in deep breaths and releasing them to demonstrate his capability.

“Fine, fine, I believe you,” Danny relented, despite the anxiety still fluttering in his chest. “Just don’t scare me like that again. I get nervous enough when you’re out of my sight, and now you’re telling me I gotta worry about you when you’re right in front of me? Phew.”

“What do you mean you get nervous when I’m out of your sight?” Sam laughed, his dark brow crinkling inquisitively as his stomach gave a little flip.

“Just worried you’ll get to wandering,” Danny replied with faux nonchalance. “Don’t want some lawless vagabond picking you off the street.”

“Ain’t that what you did?”

Danny tossed his head back and let out a loud laugh, knowing he needed to be much quieter than he was but doing nothing to rectify it. Sam burst into a round of hushed giggles and attempted to put his hands over Danny’s mouth as he shushed him theatrically. They goodnaturedly tussled for a minute before Danny finally let Sam go, pushing him back and looking away with a nervous laugh still running its course in his chest.

“I got enough law in me to keep an eye on you,” Danny continued on, flicking his wrist lightly to splash Sam. “Can’t have you leaving me to drive the rest of the way on my own.”

“Well, I only ever leave if there’s not much worth staying for,” Sam muttered. It wasn’t entirely true when considering the importance of what he’d left behind in favor of hitchhiking aimlessly in pressing Texan heat, namely his family. He felt guilty saying it, but Danny took his words with pillow softness. His laugh melted into a shy smile that fell on Sam like a kiss on the forehead.

“Lucky me, I suppose,” Danny smiled, punching Sam gently on the shoulder. “I’ll do my best to make the rest of the trip worth staying for.”

“You won’t have to try too hard,” Sam replied sincerely. “I’m having a lot of fun so far.”

“Yeah?” Danny questioned with an amused arch of his eyebrow. “You’re having fun coughing up dust in the passenger seat of a beat up truck that doesn’t work half the time? You’re having fun having to share flat, suspiciously stained motel beds with some sorry hick you met two weeks ago?”

“Well, when you put it that way, it sounds terrible,” Sam laughed. “But it is fun. It’s the in-between stuff that’s fun.”

“Like what?” Danny prodded, giving Sam another playful little splash.

He asked without any real pressure, but there was a big part of Danny that really needed to know if he was making this spontaneous road trip a good time for Sam. It seemed a little ridiculous to some extent considering that when Danny set off, he wasn’t expecting any kind of lingering company in the slightest. At the end of the day, Sam was a borderline neurotic runaway that Danny had taken a chance on after some strange gut feeling had told him to take a left and not a right while driving aimlessly. But at the same time, Danny was really starting to like him. It both confused and warmed him.

“I don’t know!” Sam sputtered. “It’s always fun to look through gas stations for stupid knick knacks. That mood ring keychain was pretty cool, you have to admit.”

Danny only laughed in response. The tacky keychain had pretty obviously been for kids, but with the way Sam’s eyes had lit up when he pressed his thumb to the heat reactive surface, Danny had found that fact the least important part of the equation.

“It’s fun when the diner menus have stupid names for the sandwiches,” Sam continued, feeling increasingly more embarrassed talking about himself. “And I definitely have fun when I get to listen to my station on the radio.”

“And you can continue to have that fun in half hour intervals,” Danny asserted, trying not to roll his eyes while recalling Sam’s beloved church music station. “Anything else?”

“Hmm. This is pretty fun,” Sam answered with a quick, impish shrug. “Even though you tried to drown me.”

“Hey!” Danny scoffed while Sam sailed into another round of delighted giggles. “I’ll show you drowning!”

Danny reached out and they wrassled again, a flurry of arms and bickering laughter as Danny pretended to try and dunk Sam under the water. Once again, Sam’s arms went around Danny’s neck as they struggled, and once again he made no move to remove them when Danny slowed. However, this time around, when Sam felt the careless adrenaline fueling him with a whisper of unknown courage, he seized it and gave Danny a quick kiss on the cheek. It was no more than 2 seconds of his lips on Danny’s slightly stubbled skin, but it struck Danny like a slap to the face. Sam released his grip on him and gave him a good natured smile.

“Seriously, this is so fun,” Sam insisted. “But we’ll never sleep if we keep being rowdy. Bed?”

“Good thinking,” Danny replied a little too quickly, successfully fighting a quiver in his voice and letting out a silent, choked sigh when Sam turned his back on him and started making his way to the edge of the pool. Facing away from Danny allowed Sam a moment to let his innocent, grateful gesture sink in. He began to panic slightly, rushing out a hurried mental prayer that Danny hadn’t taken it the wrong way. Sam almost turned to apologize, but decided it would be more awkward if he did, instead electing to haul himself out of the pool and grab his towel as if nothing out of the ordinary was raging inside his head.

Meanwhile, Danny definitely wasn’t taking it the wrong way. But he was taking it in a very surprising way. Feeling sudden and immense guilt, he realized that he was really going to have to book it to the hook where his towel hung in order to cover the “reaction” he was having to Sam’s little kiss. Thankfully, he was able to make it without Sam seeing. Danny felt grateful for his Southern charm when Sam finally did turn his doe eyed smile back on him and Danny was able to steer their conversation in a new direction as they walked to their room and he kept his towel tightly wound around his waist.

But neither one of them really recovered from it. Something so small and instantaneous weighed heavily in the back of their minds as they went about their separate nighttime routines and turned away from each other when Danny turned the light off.

After an infuriating hour of staring up at the flaking ceiling and listening to the muffled whistle of a keening wind outside the window, Sam finally heard Danny begin to snuffle and sigh, signifying sleep. He released a pent up sigh and rubbed a hand over his eyes as he tried to manifest sleep. A few hours prior he had been nearly nodding off at dinner, but now that he was alone in the inviting dark with Danny, it was hard to keep his eyes closed. Usually he whispered himself to sleep with psalms that lulled him into a fuzzy, dreamless void, but it felt wrong to do so with the imagery pervading his mind. None of it was graphic, simply a replay of how it felt to float in Danny’s arms. And how safe he felt with Danny’s hand on his back. How the feeling of his mouth on Danny’s cheek made him wonder how it would feel if it were the other way. How it would’ve felt if Danny had picked that moment to turn slightly, causing Sam to catch his lips instead of his stubble.

It was shameful, but Sam felt himself tensing and carefully guiding each muscle so that he could turn over to lay on his side facing Danny’s back. Unable to lay alone with his thoughts any longer, he decided that the sight of the body next to him would be enough to quell the uncomfortable desire in his chest that was beginning to frighten him slightly. However, he was startled to find that Danny had turned over at some point as well. Sam’s heart flitted and jabbed at him from his ribcage as he took in the sight of Danny’s cheek pressed to the pillow, his mouth ever so slightly ajar as he drew in deep breaths. He was laying on his chest, and Sam fought the urge to trace the swells of muscles in his arms as they came to cross underneath the pillow beneath his head. There was a needling, demanding pull in Sam’s stomach now, one that yanked and strained the longer Sam took in the sight of Danny’s placid, perfect face in the spectral moonlight. It puppeteered him to slide a trembling hand up and delicately cup Danny’s freckled cheek. Sam felt as though he was doing something exceedingly terrible when his thumb traced a gentle journey over Danny’s skin that still buzzed with heat from his light burn. Danny drew in a big breath and released it through his nose, stern eyebrows knitting slightly in a dream as Sam screamed at himself in his head to move his hand, flip back over, and just go to sleep. Yet it seemed like such an insurmountable task now that he’d felt Danny’s breath on his wrist. Worse, it reminded Sam of the proximity of Danny’s lips to his own, only inches away and closer even to his fingers. Sam’s mind raced as he became obsessed with possibility.

His dreams were quickly dashed in a moment of blinding, white hot panic as Danny sniffed and stirred, stretching his arms slightly as his eyelids fluttered. Even with Danny rousing, Sam couldn’t find the strength to move his hand. He kept it resting with soft pressure on Danny’s cheek as he panicked about whether or not to feign sleep. All the while, Danny blinked fully and his eyes came into focus. Sam settled for a fake, heavy lidded gaze, doing his own round of “half asleep” blinking as Danny studied his expression. Danny let out an amused huff through his nose and his arm facing Sam loudly disturbed the sheets as it lifted from under the pillow and his hand clumsily tapped against Sam’s own on his face.

“You’re dreaming, Sam,” Danny mumbled, his voice low and grumbling as he fought to speak without falling asleep again. “Go to sleep.”

“Not dreaming,” Sam whispered tiredly. He watched as Danny’s hand stretched and rested fully over his own, Danny’s fingers curling a little as his eyes closed again and he began to doze.

It was such a little thing, but that pull inside of Sam snapped. There was something overwhelming him, and in his exhausted, newly freed state of mind, he saw no other option but to succumb. For the first time, when he felt the compulsion to pray for his salvation, he ignored it outright.

Shifting forward, Sam used his hand on Danny’s face as leverage to gently pull himself forward and press his lips to Danny’s. He did so with no real pressure, simply lingering as long as Danny would allow him to and trapping a shivering breath inside his lungs as his eyes closed at the relief. He fully expected Danny to spit and push him off the bed, leaving him right then and there to hop in his truck and find California all on his own like he was supposed to. His fingers pressed into Danny’s skin at the thought, holding on to him as long as he could before this impulse came back to bite him in what he was sure would be seconds.

Instead, he was met with the ginger push of Danny’s lips meeting him halfway. It only lasted for a couple of seconds, and Sam could taste the lingering whisper of mint toothpaste on his breath behind the numbing warmth of his tongue, which did no more but tap momentarily at Sam’s closed lips. When Danny’s lips unstuck from his, Danny barely pulled away to speak, giving Sam the luxury of their close proximity for longer than he ever could have dreamed of.

“Now you’re just getting my hopes up,” Danny breathed with a laugh that lasted only a fraction of a second and seemed more like a punch of air from his chest.

Not really understanding what Danny meant, Sam flew into another panic. He could no longer feign a sleepy stare and blinked rapidly with restless nerves waking him up all the way. His heart pounded in his ears and he prayed his hand wouldn’t prickle with sweat from the dread beginning to course through him. All at once, he could hear a chorus of a hundred voices from back home reminding him of the great, divine consequence of what he was doing.

“Sorry,” Sam apologized, his eyes immediately prickling with anxious tears. “I just…”

“I just don’t want you waking up tomorrow and feeling all…you know, guilty or whatever ‘cause of something you did half asleep,” Danny murmured. He cursed his moral compass pointing him to true north, even in this miraculous circumstance when the dial seemed to be spun on its axis entirely.

“I’m awake,” Sam argued in a whisper. “That’s why I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that with you sleeping, that’s-”

“I was awake, too,” Danny replied simply. “I mean, when...”

An infuriating, tense minute passed between the two of them. There was much to be said, and also nothing at all. Too little time had passed in each other’s company to have any kind of profound feeling to confess, and yet there was a confounding magnetism that left them staring into the other’s eyes with heavy breath and rattling hearts. Danny’s hand eventually fell from where it had lain over Sam’s, but before Sam’s heart could sting with hurt at the loss, he felt Danny’s arm adjust to wrap around his waist and pull him closer. With this motion, their lips connected again, and Sam breathed in sharply through his nose as he attempted to fall into the rhythm of this disarming, second ever kiss. The matchbox capacity of the motel room and the sleeping world beyond its cracked windows were swallowed up by the fervor of Danny’s shuddering breath and the heat rolling off his skin. Sam heard the chastising chorus in the back of his conscience begin to sing again when Danny’s hand on his lower back tightened its grip. His heart hammered thinking about roaring hellfire and scores of taunting devils, but when Danny carefully rolled Sam onto his back and Sam opened his eyes, he saw only an angel.

“This sure is a step up from your little gesture in the pool,” Danny acknowledged, caging Sam in with an arm at his side and another by his head.

“I was only saying thank you,” Sam muttered sheepishly, struggling to speak with his throat so dry and his muscles so alive with flickering reactions he fought to suppress.

“What are you saying now?”

Sam fell silent. He had no experiences to draw on or words in his vocabulary to place what he felt about Danny. Kind, gracious, handsome Danny, hovering over him with the patience he doled out time and time again when lesser men would have rolled their eyes and drove off.

“I think…” Sam started, fighting to sort his scattered, uninformed feelings. “I’m still saying thank you.”

Unexpectedly, Danny’s eyes flickered with apprehension. Sam’s eyebrows knit with confusion when Danny leaned back to straddle Sam’s hips, suddenly wearing a somber expression. Sam’s bottom lip quaked and pouted as he hurriedly propped himself up on his elbows.

“What?” Sam blurted. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, fuck, I fucked it all up, didn’t I?”

“I just really hope you don’t feel like you have to…do anything for me just ‘cause I’m giving you a ride,” Danny said earnestly. “I’d be really sore if you thought of me that way. I don’t expect a single thing from you.”

Sam’s heart gave a deep, aching clench as Danny’s words sank in. He felt his eyes nearly welling with tears again as he watched Danny look down at his hands in his lap before flicking his eyes up to Sam, probing him for a response.

“No,” Sam replied firmly, pushing off the bed to sit straight and stare up properly into Danny’s eyes. “No, no, that’s not it at all. I would never. Never ever. You should know that, Danny, come on. I, it’s just…”

He trailed off again, blushing with embarrassment as the words finally came to him, plain and true.

“I just like you is all,” Sam admitted, thankful for the shade of night to conceal the flush he knew was painting his face pink. “I’m sorry.”

“You keep apologizing when you got nothing to apologize for,” Danny accused quietly. His hands were close to shaking as he tried to calm himself down, but it was hard not to shiver at Sam’s confession.

“Sorry. Product of my upbringing, I guess.”

“Well, I got a bone to pick with a lot of things about your upbringing, if I’m being perfectly honest.”

“Me too,” Sam whispered truthfully.

Danny studied Sam’s face with that familiar worried look he found himself sporting every day now, taking a minute to smooth Sam’s hair back and get lost in his dark, doll-like gaze.

“I know it wasn’t part of the plan,” Sam went on with a small, shameful voice.

Danny let out an airy, one note laugh through his nose and rolled his eyes, finally plucking up the courage to cup Sam’s cheek as Sam had done to him.

“I’m not even sure what ‘the plan’ is anymore,” Danny sighed, finding it difficult to look anywhere but Sam’s rosy frown. “I know what I said, but I think deep down all I really wanted to do was go. California just seemed like the best place to start.”

“So…” Sam coaxed, unable to stop himself from tilting his chin into Danny’s grip. “When will you know where you’re going?”

“Now that I’ve met you, Sam? I think I know where I’m headed.”

Before Sam could bring up any matters of direction, of Danny’s supposed destined Californian love, or of what was to become of them as a them, Danny kissed Sam for a third time. Nothing special, nothing mind blowing. Yet with it, Sam felt every saying about the magic number, three strikes, and the Holy Trinity itself fade in comparison. And when Danny laid him down again, Sam swore he could see the stars.

The next morning, Sam sat in the passenger seat of the truck with his head hanging out the window, chestnut hair spilling behind him in the wind as the bare fields and pale blue sky rolled on by. With his shirt unbuttoned to remedy the heatwave, anyone would’ve been able to see the small, tender bruises lining his collarbone and marching down his chest. Beside him, Danny kept one eye firmly on the empty road and the other on his passenger. On a whim, he took a hand off the wheel to fiddle with the radio, adept fingers spinning the knob until a choral worship song came crackling over the waves. Sam turned his head at the music and made a fond sound, shoving Danny’s shoulder with a light push and settling back into his seat. However, after a minute of listening, Sam found himself reaching to change the station. He settled on a rock station blasting a song dripping with bass and drums, nodding his head along to it curiously as Danny shot him an incredulous smile.

“I fear I’ve corrupted you,” Danny laughed, reaching out to muss Sam’s hair.

“Good,” Sam hummed. “I needed it.”

“Yeah, you did. Just remember you promised not to go running off on me. And no bar fights. And before you ask, tattoos are a solid maybe.”

Sam laughed, pressing up against the headrest as he kicked his boots up on the dashboard and allowed himself to recline. For a moment, it crossed his mind that this might be one of the first times in his life he felt truly comfortable. It also crossed his mind that Danny’s persistent worry of Sam running off into the night was becoming increasingly more ridiculous. As he looked at the man driving next to him, who was miraculously unaware of the midday sun setting his curls and perfect side profile alight, Sam knew with confidence there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

Chapter 2!

#the day i stop writing fanfics based off of ethel cain songs is the day i die #i will never stop or get better or learn #gvf #greta van fleet #danny wagner #sam kiszka #sanny gvf #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van art #karoufiction

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jackdraw-spwrite · 7 months

Text

Fine, Chapter 4

Words: 3065

Characters: Danny, Clockwork

Warnings: Body horror of a sort (character has been given machine insides they do not want)

"Best, I think, to begin with myself," said Clockwork, and brought his exposed forearm close enough for Danny to look.

Danny blinked. He’d expected–

But this was easier. More comfortable.

Wrapped in Clockwork’s cloak, tucked against his side and now with his other arm in front of him, Danny felt surrounded. Protected. Safe.

One step off from a hug.

Read the rest on AO3, or below the readmore:

And one step from a hug was a good place to confront what he didn’t want to see. He took a breath. tk-kt. Tried to take one.

And he looked down to the fate he was trying to avoid. Looked down to the mangled and tortured analogy of flesh and like a trainwreck Danny found himself transfixed by the sight.

Only…

Only it wasn’t.

Countless tiny gear wheels turned smoothly in their places, trailing up Clockwork's exposed arm and out of sight. A battery of rods were aligned in perfect parallel, the quick flick of delicate floral engravings the clearest sign that they were moving at all. Yet those flicks were with a synchronicity that made the entire assembly almost dance in place.

And beneath, there were more gears, more teeth.

There were ratchet arms and springs and countless other things Danny couldn't put a name to and beneath that there was a metal plate cut through with swooping holes and through them–

Through them there was movement.

The shadows danced. Intentional. Graceful. And above all: impossible.

"What," said Danny.

“What?” asked Clockwork, and Danny didn’t need to look away to hear the smugness of his tone.

“There’s too much stuff. It shouldn’t fit.”

"Clearly, it does."

A flash of irritation bolted through Danny at that. "Fine. It shouldn't fit."

“Shouldn’t it?”

Danny’s throat made a frustrated grinding noise that he’d only ever heard Clockwork make, before. He looked up, and the frustration must have been clear in his eyes because Clockwork relented.

"You have noticed that lairs do not obey euclidean geometry.”

"Yeah," said Danny, who only recognized the word because of Sam’s brief HP Lovecraft phase. He had noticed that lairs were weird, space-wise.

"Why should we be any different?"

He glanced back down to think. "Because. Um," Danny trailed off.

One of the gears near the surface moved oddly. Only some of its edge had teeth, and as it rotated it drove the smaller gear nestled beside it in spurts of movement. The uneven rotation made Danny's eyes do something funny.

Clockwork said something.

"What?"

"Would you like to touch it?"

"Isn't that dangerous?" The gears were moving quickly. And they seemed delicate, like if pressed too hard they might break.

He didn't want to break Clockwork.

"If it were going full speed, yes."

Before Danny's eyes, it slowed to a crawl.

He reached up, then hesitated. Even slowed, it seemed so fragile…

The reassuring pressure of Clockwork's hand left his head. Shortly afterwards, Clockwork's hand reappeared from the corners of Danny's vision.

"Here," said Clockwork. "Like this."

And he brought a single finger down to touch the gear. It rotated against Clockwork's finger, unbothered. In the gaps between Clockwork's fingers, Danny could see the odd teeth continue in their path, and a slice of the other gear it was driving.

"That doesn't hurt?" Danny asked.

"Not if I'm gentle."

Clockwork pulled his hand away, and then pressed lightly on Danny's skin.

"I am only using this much force," he said.

"Oh."

Danny brought his hand over the hole in Clockwork's skin and then gingerly down.

Down.

Metal, and Danny nearly withdrew.

"No," said Clockwork. "You’re not pressing too hard. Do you feel that?"

Danny did.

Beneath his finger, the metal was smooth. It was a little warm to the touch, just like most metal had been since he’d come into his ice powers. And Danny could feel it move against his skin. He could feel tiny, regular vibrations as it did: the voice of some other part of Clockwork extending through the structure of his machine.

It reminded Danny of a pulse.

And yet that was not the thing that most grabbed his attention. That was the curious, contradictory welcome of it. That was in the feeling of it feeling him reaching, and of it reaching back. Like fingers, intertwined.

Like comfort.

Like ho–

Some thoughts were too dangerous to finish.

Some time later found Danny tucked more deeply into Clockwork’s side in a pronounced lean. He was still preoccupied by Clockwork’s gears.

"It tickles," said Danny, wondering.

After he'd become comfortable with the first gear, Clockwork had removed a second panel to expose delicate chains, a maze of tensioned wires, and several more gears that danced just below the surface.

There was a set of gears interlaced in a chain, one end moving so fast it seemed robed in a honeyed gleam, and these were the latest thing to capture his attention. Danny brushed his fingers just above them, feeling the faint breeze they made with the speed of their movement but being careful not to touch. Unlike the other gears, Clockwork had said these might hurt if Danny disturbed it. So he did not touch.

But he could get close enough to feel the air getting pulled along. Close enough, apparently, to feel a tickle.

Clockwork's hum pulsed a little louder.

Clockwork replaced the panels he’d removed with methodical clicks. As he did, he explained what he was doing.

"And here," he said, "I'm hooking this spot around this wire here, do you see that? And then I pull at the same time I push" –snap– "here."

Danny made a noise of comprehension.

He'd been too distracted to pay much attention to how Clockwork was reattaching Danny's panel, before. From the outside, without the almost hypnotic pressure, it was easier to pay attention.

Like this, it was interesting. And soothing, in a different way that Danny had a hard time putting into words. And complex; the movement of Clockwork’s hand was hard to follow at points. He bent his fingers with inhuman flexibility and the dexterity of a craftsman, and they worked together in a dance.

He was doing it all one handed, too, and that made it more impressive. Danny wondered how he’d learned, and why.

Oh.

Clockwork had to do it one handed, didn’t he? It wasn’t like there was someone else who could help. At least, not now.

…Had he ever had anyone to help him, like he was helping Danny?

And the last connection locked into place with a snap.

This was it. Danny braced himself, mind picking up speed at what might lie beneath his own panels, at what it would mean–

"One last thing," Clockwork said.

He opened the door of his chest, reached in, and pulled out a tiny, intricately engraved key. This he inserted into the lock at the right of his door and turned. There was a snik layered on itself a hundred times over from every part of Clockwork: his arms and head and chest, even his tail.

Serenely, Clockwork replaced the key.

Danny’s mind slammed to a halt, then lurched in another direction entirely. Was that a lock? What did it lock? The panels? Why? How, when Clockwork’s panels were smooth as porcelain?

What escaped his mouth was, "I thought that lock was for your door."

"It's for the rest of me," said Clockwork. "It is best that access to my internal geometries remains difficult."

"Oh," said Danny. His thoughts were picking up now, and curling outward in question marks. Who would be trying to access Clockwork’s internal geometries?

"Do not worry," said Clockwork, interrupting Danny’s rapidly accelerating train of thought. He brought his hand up to caress a shape nestled in the hollow just above Danny's sternum. "You have one as well. I will lock you before you leave."

He turned and busied himself neatening the workspace back up, leaving Danny’s train of thought to careen off track and tumble to a stop.

He had a lock.

Danny touched the hollow above his sternum, just as Clockwork had. Tentatively, as though he were touching Clockwork’s gear wheels again and not something solid, not something built to withstand force.

But it was solid.

It was cool to the touch, not warm like Clockwork's gears were. Yet the solidity of it, the weight and thickness were surely metal.

It was a little circle; Danny could feel the curve of it under his finger, the jagged line of the keyhole at its center. Above and below it were tiny shapes with straight edges that came to soft points. Triangles. There was texture on them, something rough and that made his finger want to slide one way and not another, and Danny wondered what it was. What it meant. If there were words there, or etched patterns like Clockwork's curlicue botanicals.

For that matter, what did he look like, right now?

Maybe he could look in a mirror before this was over. Before he left.

And then there was the cloth. Again, there was Danny's arm beneath.

He fiddled the hem in his fingers. He hadn't really gotten a good look at what lay inside before he'd panicked and Clockwork had covered it. But he could remember the shine of something machined, something complicated twitching just out of time with the tower.

Danny lingered a moment more. He wanted to spend more time not thinking about this. But he was curious. He was curious, and his hand still ached.

And the only way was through.

Danny pulled it back.

With a rustle of fabric, the covering fell away.

Danny's first thought was that it looked like Clockwork's.

His second thought was that it didn't.

The edges of his skin, his panels, they were the same. They had the same porcelain edges, which his skin met with the same strange line. Even the inside of his arm was similar, the mechanisms within a labyrinth of rods and gears and wires where their shadows weren’t too deep to see.

"They're big," Danny said with a frown. Much larger than Clockwork's were.

"You are young," said Clockwork. "Children grow."

"Smaller?"

"It will not be your gears that grow.” Clockwork hummed. ”Besides, I think they suit you."

They suited him.

Danny stared into his arm. Even ignoring how large they were, his gears weren't like Clockwork's. They weren't unlike his either; they were brass. It was just that where Clockwork's were intricately engraved, Danny's were feathered with frost. The filaments deeper within were rimed in white, and in a few scattered places he looked less like metal at all and more, much more, like ice.

Tentatively, he reached in, only to be stopped by Clockwork.

"Not at full speed," he said.

"Oh," said Danny. "How did you…?"

"It is a skill."

Danny wouldn't be able to do it, then. Not now.

"You would need to partially disengage your arm.” Clockwork explained, paused. Added, “I will need to fully disengage it to repair it,” and placed one hand on Danny's shoulder.

The shoulder Clockwork had said he would need to access.

It felt–it was–hollow.

Danny was hollow.

His tongue felt sticky. Clumsy. Pulling it from the roof of his mouth was harder than it should have been, and when Danny spoke, that felt clumsy too.

"Okay," he said.

Clockwork squeezed in an affirming gesture, and pulled away again to work. There were tugs and snaps as he pulled something loose. And then there was more pressure, deep and radiating down his arm like a sunburst and a clunk.

His eyes were still locked on the exposed machinery of his arm. It went still.

Danny stilled, too. The sight of his gears so still plucked sour notes in his stomach. There was something huge and awkward bubbling in his chest, and for a moment he imagined a stray gear blundering through delicate machinery before he forced the thought from his head.

He didn’t look at his shoulder.

He didn’t want to look.

Danny had come here hoping to have Clockwork fix his arm. He'd been filled with dread at the prospect and still had forced himself to come. He hadn't even wanted to think about being made of clockwork and he'd still pushed open the doors, still set foot inside. Still stayed.

And now that he was sitting here with a panel off and staring at his own insides, the second part no longer seemed quite so bad.

But the first part seemed real in a way it hadn't, before.

Clockwork would fix his arm.

Fix it, because Danny needed repairs.

The idea echoed in his head like it was hollow and it occurred to Danny that it probably was, that all of him was hollow and full of echoes bouncing round and round and–

There was pressure as Clockwork cradled Danny's head, brushed a thumb through his hair slowly. It was a motion measured with the tick of seconds and it was utterly regular, utterly precise. Danny could feel the weight of the beat, now that he was paying attention. It felt like pressure. It felt like anticipation.

It felt just slightly off from Danny's own time. He felt a frown flicker at his face at that, and–

"It still frightens you," said Clockwork, voice tinged with sadness.

"Yeah," Danny said, his quiet.

There wasn't any real point in denying it. There was no one here to win over with false bravado. No one to impress who would find it impressive.

"But you want it done."

"Yeah.”

"Then," said Clockwork. "Like this, there are ways to keep you calm."

"I can manage," said Danny.

"I know that you can manage. You have managed far worse. But you will need to be still, and your arm will be unresponsive."

"I can manage.”

Clockwork paused. Bowed his head so that it rested on Danny's.

"Is it so terrible to save yourself the panic? It will not change what must be done, only make it more awful for you. And more dangerous. Surgeons use anesthesia for a reason."

"I don't–I want to see what you're doing." Even if he also really, really didn’t.

"You will be able to."

"I will?"

"I will not blind you, Daniel. Only calm you, so that you can see what I'm doing with clear eyes."

Danny leaned his head against Clockwork's shoulder, thinking. Clockwork's head was a reassuring pressure at his temple, and the cloak still hung around his shoulders in a comforting embrace.

Just like Clockwork's arm, returned to wrap around him in a hug.

Danny's life was full of day to day anxieties. Whether he'd done his homework, whether he'd forgotten it. What Vlad was up to, how much sleep he'd get. What Valerie was up to, and Danielle. What his parents were up to…

The list went on.

The point was, Danny was used to playing calm in stressful situations. And he was pretty sure he'd be able to grit his teeth through this just like he'd grit his teeth through the last several weeks. Like Vlad’s schemes and the latest broken bones and disappointed lectures from his parents. Like the deep and lingering ache of every electric shock he got keeping Amity safe.

He could handle it.

But was it so terrible, to save himself the trouble? What would Jazz think?

Jazz would agree with Clockwork, probably.

Danny closed his eyes. "It won't make me more, um. Changed, right?"

Clockwork was silent. The hand holding Danny close flexed, though not painfully. Clockwork was always careful.

"Clockwork?"

"There are many futures, and many choices leading to them."

"Um."

"It should not."

"...Okay."

Maybe 'should' shouldn't have been good enough for Danny. Maybe he should have asked more questions, especially when he was usually so full of them.

But the way Clockwork's grip shifted, the way he clutched Danny close, the slight wobble to the pitter-patter ticks in his chest: these things made it hard to doubt too much that Clockwork was genuine.

"Thank you," said Clockwork.

Danny hummed reassuringly in answer. It was a mechanical sound, and he wondered what part of him was making it, and how. If it was like the part that made Clockwork's hums.

And then there was a tug at the top of his spine, or just to the left of it, and the feeling of a panel coming off.

Danny's hum rose into a questioning register.

"Shhh," Clockwork hushed him. "I am only bringing you back into time."

There were more clicks, each one resounding across his back and into his bones. It felt like if he opened his mouth they might spill from it like notes from an old record player.

There was a tug, and Clockwork pulled Danny from the bench. Danny struggled to his feet under the guiding gesture. His legs felt wrong, too light and too heavy at once. But he didn't have time to find his balance before he was guided to a slot in the wall.

It was shadowed. The curve of fine gear wheels within were barely visible from the light filtering into it, but Danny could see more than one. They sat side by side in the hidden space, each one moving faster than the last so that while the first moved at a stately place, the wheel at the far end was nothing but a blur.

"Um, Clockwork?" he asked.

"Yes?" responded Clockwork, and trailed a finger down the back of Danny's neck in a way that should have made the hairs there stand on end. Something clicked in a way that drove his back ramrod straight.

His mouth had been open to ask about the slot, and so he heard the noise of the alignment magnified from his mouth.

It shouldn't have been so, so–

He tried to speak, and discovered his jaw was locked into place. He reached out for Clockwork's hand and caught it.

Clockwork gave it a squeeze, and turned him around so his back was facing the slot. Like this, he could see Clockwork's face, and beneath the persistent scowl he could see the shadow of affection. Of the same care that had drawn him back to Long Now again and again.

Clockwork let Danny's hand go and cupped his cheek.

"All things in Long Now become synchronized in time. You know that. You've experienced it. This is only a faster way. It doesn't hurt."

And he pressed Danny into the slot.

#danny phantom #danny phantom dp #clockwork dp #jackdraw-spwrite #jackdaw-spwrite #ectoberhaunt23 #23 day 9 #robots

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niqhtlord01 · 2 years

Text

Humans are weird: Drinking Contest

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

Commander Vel: Alright….

Commander Vel: I want you to run me through what happened once again, because I fear my translator unit must be broken.

Sgt. Franklin: It looks fine to me sir.

Commander Vel: That’s what I thought as well, but after hearing your story I know something must be wrong because what you just told me MAKES ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE!!!!

Sgt. Franklin: *Sighs*

Sgt. Franklin: At 2300 hours my squad began our scheduled patrol along the Azaban Forest.

Sgt. Franklin: We were told that Marketh forces had been using the area to make incursions behind our lines.

Commander Vel: When did you encounter the Marketh?

Sgt. Franklin: The majority of my squad encountered them at 0300.

Commander Vel: Now this is where you begin to lose me.

Commander Vel: What do you mean by “the majority”?

Sgt. Franklin: It appears one of my men became separated from our patrol sometime around 0100.

Commander Vel: So you lost one of your soldiers?

Commander Vel: Are you just incompetent or incredibly unqualified to lead soldiers into battle?

Sgt. Franklin: Our running theory is that because he was at the rear of the patrol he was captured without anyone noticing.

Commander Vel: Theory?

Sgt. Franklin: We have yet to get the full details on how Pvt. Danny Munch was captured but we have a rough idea what happened.

Sgt. Franklin: When we recovered him he was in an inebriated state of some sort and has yet to recover to give us the full story.

Commander Vel: And this was at 0300?

Sgt. Franklin: That is correct.

Commander Vel: The same time you encountered the Marketh?

Sgt. Franklin: That is correct.

Commander Vel: So the Marketh had captured this Pvt. Danny and were in possession of him?

Sgt. Franklin: Yes, and no.

Commander Vel: Come again?

Sgt. Franklin: The Marketh did capture Pvt. Danny and extracted him behind their lines via a waiting vehicle.

Sgt. Franklin: When we found the private he was at the center of a Marketh encampment holding 20-30 Marketh warriors.

Commander Vel: I assume they were torturing your soldier?

Sgt. Franklin: Actually, they were engaged in a form of contest with the private.

Commander Vel: What?

Sgt. Franklin: For whatever reason the Marketh warriors had setup a table at the center of the camp and were one by one having a drink off with the private.

Sgt. Franklin: When we arrived there were already three Marketh warriors stacked up like Lincoln logs to the side of the table that we assumed were previous challengers.

Commander Vel: Did your soldier appear to be forced into the challenge?

Sgt. Franklin: Hard to say, but I doubt it.

Commander Vel: Do you have evidence to back up this claim?

Sgt. Franklin: After every finished mug the private would hold up his empty glass and cheer to the gathered crowd, who in turn cheered back at him.

Commander Vel: So I take it you stormed the encampment and killed the Marketh while they were distracted?

Sgt. Franklin: We did spread out and surround the encampment with that just in mind, but after further observation I believed that the private’s life was still at risk with so many Marketh still standing and so I held off from issuing the order.

Commander Vel: You knowingly held back your troops from rescuing one of your own?

Sgt. Franklin: If anyone was in need of saving in that camp it was the Marketh, not Pvt. Danny.

Commander Vel: Explain.

Sgt. Franklin: As we observed the camp for the next twenty minutes more and more of the Marketh warriors started dropping like flies from the challenge while Pvt. Danny appeared fine.

Sgt. Franklin: After thirty minutes every single Marketh was on the ground passed out.

Sgt. Franklin: We moved in quietly and secured the camp while restraining all Marketh.

Commander Vel: What sort of drink could incapacitate an entire camp of Marketh?

Sgt. Franklin: I’m not sure of what name they have for it, but after we had it analyzed it was mainly contained caffeine.

Commander Vel: I’ve not heard of this substance before.

Sgt. Franklin: It’s a substance known for increasing levels of alertness and focus when consumed at the expense of shutting off certain functions of your body.

Commander Vel: That sounds horrible!

Sgt. Franklin: From the medical information we have been able to obtain on the Marketh they appear to use it as a form of medical combat drug, though in very small douses.

Sgt. Franklin: Their drugs contain less than one milligram of caffeine which for us humans is hardly noticeable at all when consumed.

Commander Vel: How much of this substance does the average human consume?

Sgt. Franklin: I know Pvt. Danny, when supplies are available, on average takes about three cups of coffee each morning which would total out to about 300 milligrams of caffeine.

Commander Vel: …………..

Commander Vel: *Sighs loudly and rubs eyes*

Commander Vel: If you humans have such a high tolerance to lethal substances, why is Pvt. Danny in his current state?

Sgt. Franklin: Medics looked him over and judged that his body is in shock due to a chemical imbalance brought on from being captured followed by the sudden onrush of caffeine.

Commander Vel: And this is where you retrieved your missing soldier?

Sgt. Franklin: That is correct.

Commander Vel: And you also then proceeded to load the incapacitated Marketh into their vehicle, along with the rest of your squad, and return to our lines?

Sgt. Franklin: Correct.

Commander Vel: So to sum up your report.

Commander Vel: You went on a patrol, had one of your soldiers captured, who you then rescued from an enemy encampment where they had subdued the entire enemy force by challenging them to drinking lethal substances until they were all left unconscious, and then proceeded to capture and return to our lines with their vehicle, intelligence, and thirty Marketh warriors.

Sgt. Franklin: Yes sir, that sums up our evening rather tightly.

Commander Vel: I hate that this has been the most successful operation that has ever taken place under my command and that it was carried out by humans having drinking contests with the enemy.

Sgt. Franklin: If it makes you feel better we deciphered their codes with the intel we gathered and are now actively challenging the Marketh leadership to a similar contest on their own frequencies.

Sgt. Franklin: Seems their pride is easily bruised and they have agreed to it.

Commander Vel: What?

Sgt. Franklin: If they win they get their prisoners back, and if we win we get them as prisoners.

Commander Vel: WHAT?!?! Sgt. Franklin: I think we have this covered.

Sgt. Franklin: Pvt. Ford can chug three red bulls and two monsters at the same time and only lose vision in one of his eyes for a while afterwards.

Commander Veil: WHAT!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!!?

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #story #writing #original writing

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vigilant-insomniac · 13 days

Text

Ashes rain upon your scalded palms final part

Prev | Part 3/3 | or read on AO3

Chapter words: 2205

Fic word count: 9655

Maddie is yet again displaced and has to face another ghost. One that claims to be the god of time. He is the one behind it all it seems

Contains Clockwork and Maddie having a chat. And descriptions of off screen death.

Made for @phicphight

____

Chapter three

Never in her life had Maddie ever felt more helpless than when she opened her eyes and she was, again, somewhere new and alone. Unharmed, even though she was certain her son’s grief had torn her apart. There was no rubble this time. No destruction or any other signs of the nightmare she had just lived through. She still was way from home and her family. Instead she stood in a place like the inside of a clock. Gears floated and spun around pointlessly and she herself was standing on something that seemed to be a giant clock face. The sound of slow ticking was the only thing she could hear for a while and she wondered if this was another quest to find her son.

She closed her eyes and exhaled shakily. He must have been so scared. So lonely. She could feel it back there, what had happened to him.

That last wail, it did something, since her head was filled with memories. It was like all his grief and despair had been projected right into her min.

She really didn't like any of what had happened to her son. And that he was. Maddie had no doubt. Actually she had lost that doubt the second Danny had looked at her back there.

But there was undeniable truth to the things she saw during those last moments.

Her Portal had done this to him. It had been nothing other than his well intent, that made him step into the machine in an attempt to fix it. It cost him his life and the destruction of everything he had known. Himself included. And then there was a hundred years of grief and despair while his heart broke to pieces.

When she had found him, he had already been fractured beyond saving.

Maddie didn’t get time to release the tears that were welling up, because just as uncannily and unexpectedly as before, she was face to face with a ghost.

Resignation made her merely frown at the purple cloaked spirit who shifted his appearance like they were made of sand.

"You've found your son." The old man stated.

"I have." She replied.

He studied her intensely, and Maddie had the impression he was seeing more than just her face.

He didn't seem very forthcoming, Maddie realized, he was somewhat distracted.

“So I assume, you are the one who’s been pulling me along?” Maddie didn’t have it in herself to keep her hostility in check.

“you are correct.” The ghost replied almost sagely.

“Who are you? What’s the purpose of this?” she demanded.

The ghost turned away from her, and stared at who knew what. Was he senile? After a moment too long, he began his introduction.

“I am Clockwork. I am Chronos. I am The Ancient of Time…. some even call me Time itself. I have many names, but I am not known to many mortals. Yet still I felt the need to talk to you, Maddeline Fenton. You were a necessary exception.” Maddie already knew this conversation was going to be miserable. She just wanted to have a good cry and go back to her family. She wanted to hug Danny while he was alive and happy. She did not want to deal with this ghost. Even her scientific interest was not enough at this moment to push itself to the forefront of her priorities.

“You were the voice I heard back then? The one to send me to find and save Danny? The one to send me there, into the future?” she pressed when it seemed like the ghost was again just staring off into space.

“I was.”

Maddie was going to strangle him.

“So what now? I failed him. I couldn’t save him at all. Whatever I was meant to do back there, I didn’t and my son-” She couldn’t say it.

“You didn’t. Not yet. Not anymore.” Clockwork turned to her with sorrow.

“But you want me to? Right? I don’t know why someone akin to a god would be concerned with my family, but for some reason, you care about him and you want to save him, but you can’t do it yourself, you need me to do it.” He confirmed it with a sage nod.

“So send me back!" Maddie pleaded. "Send me back to a time when it isn’t already too late, and I will make sure the portal won't ever find its completion. Let me prevent this. Even if I have to turn my back on science and everything my life stands for. Even if I have to tear everything I’ve built, down with my bare hands. If it means I can stop this future I would do anything.”

And Maddie meant it. Her Portal was a scientific marvel and the pinnacle of her achievements to date. But if it killed her son and her family and everyone else in the neighborhood, then she wouldn't. It was as simple as that. Even if it hurt.

For a long time, Clockwork just watched her as she fought back her grief. This ghost, so powerful, and apparently yet so impotent, oddly enough, seemed to share her grief. His expression wasn’t an easy one to read, especially on someone who’s face kept shifting between ages. But Maddie could tell.

“You cannot interfere with this. The portal needs to be. And so does he need to be as he will be. This cannot be changed.”

“You are telling me, what,... That this is his Fate? Some perverse Destiny that chains my son to an early death? How dare you call yourself a god.” Maddie spat.

“Let me show you something.” he said calmly even in the face of her disdain.

Without waiting for her reply, vivid visions erupted in her head. Maddie doubled over in pain. Her head was bursting, but what really made her scream into her balled up fist was the endless stream of-

When it was over Maddie was rendered breathless.

“Is there really none?" She asked with growing hopelessness. "No future in which he will get to grow old?” she managed to whisper.

The after images of blood, broken bones and so so much sickness haunted her head. This time she was glad the ghost took so long to reply she struggled to gather herself. It had hurt, to get Danny’s death shown to her when he had broken apart in her arms. But what the ghost, Clockwork had done, was as if she had seen into an infinite amount of realities and in each one, Danny would die. Sometimes he wouldn’t make it out of infancy, sometimes it would be a sickness or an accident. Sometimes it was murder or catastrophe. No matter the cause, the effect was always the same.

“That is why you won’t let me go back to tear down my portal? Because it would not make a difference?”

“He will die. That is Fate.” said the God with regret in his voice. “But, you are misunderstanding the crucial part."

Maddie looked at the ghost with weariness. "Danny will always die early. In every reality, no matter what measures are taken. Yet in the timeline you hail from, in which he steps into your Portal, he conquers and fools the very Destiny that has him bound. He died, yes, but just this once, he did the unimaginable-”

It suddenly clicked for her. All those deaths blinded her to what Clockwork was trying to get her to focus on.

“He lived.” Maddie concluded.

"He did."

“You.. you don’t need me to save him from the portal at all, then?”

“I do not.”

Hope was a mean beast. But she welcomed it with open arms. Her mind reeled at the implications of an existence that would be torn between life and death.

She had seen Danny. He had been a ghost, yes, but then he had turned back into a human. He had been alive. Even the short moment she had to embrace him, she could tell he had breath and a pulse.

Suddenly though, she wasn’t sure if she should be as relieved as she was. That version of Danny had been miserable.

“So as long as he lives on after his death, he will be… safe?”

“Fate isn’t easily fought,” he stated.

Maddie considered this. “He still… died. In the Time you sent me to. Not just that, he lived in a wasteland for a century and suffered through every moment of it, I… I don’t want that for my son. This can’t be the timeline you want him to arrive at. Surely it’s not.”

“Fate has a will of its own and will not let go of who it has burrowed it’s claws into. It is determined to drag Danny back by force. After he enters the path towards becoming fully liminal, he may be one step ahead of Fate, but its meddling will have already set off the chain of events that will cause him to break. His Heart, you see, which is his greatest strength, is also Fate’s final attempt to stop him.”

The way the Ghost spoke of it, it almost seemed like Fate was its own entity. Standing here with Time itself, as he had called himself, it made sense that it would be. But then…

“I’ve asked you before, why you were so concerned with my son, but the way you speak, I would rather know why Fate seems to be so determined to interfere with him. What is…Fate so afraid of.”

The Ghost’s eyes glinted “Because if he isn’t stopped, Danny will be something beyond Fate's reach. That’s the loophole. Danny is effectively running a race to become an entity that will be above mere things like Fate. And Fate was never fond of having anyone oppose it.”

Maddie’s eyes widened “He’ll… He’ll be like you.”

The God of Time smiled gently, neither confirming or dismissing her.

She needed a minute to just sort her thoughts. Danny would… live. As long as he escaped fate and became something beyond a human or a ghost. But it was a race to find a path that would lead to that result before he died without the portal or despaired after the portal.

There were conditions he had to meet and Maddie wasn't a scientist for nothing.

So she sorted it in her head:

1. Danny had to die in the portal.

2. He had to ascend in some way or form.

3. … and he had to do so without having his heart broken irreparably.

So her portal needed to turn on, but without causing the apocalypse. Her portal had to work. So all she needed…

“I see.” she sighed. Her smile was accompanied by tears of relief. “So this is what needs to be done. You know, you could have just said so.” She wiped at her eyes with something between a laugh and a sob.

“Your stubborn nature is a great strength, Maddeline,” Clockwork said warmly, “strong enough to rebel against Fate and Time. I know not one reality in which you would follow a plan, not forged by your own mind. You had to see for yourself, know for yourself and come to your own conclusion.”

Maddie wished he wasn't speaking the truth, but she was glad. They would save Danny.

“I never liked those things like Fate. But Time, I see, can be tolerable.” she admitted, “Although, do not be fooled, I intend to stay ahead of my Time. Who knows, maybe someday I will even show you something you couldn’t see coming.”

“I will be keeping my eye on you and your family." The god of time promised.

_________

Maddie woke up like she had for the last many years. Next to Jack and with her kids still sleeping just down the hall. She stretched languidly before picking up her phone and skimming her to-do list.

Today would be the day.

Maddie hummed along to Jack’s favorite playlist while they were down in the basement lab. She installed the final piece of titanium plating in her portal's insides with a triumphant cheer that Jack joined in from the outside where he ran a final check on the programming.

Today they were writing history.

Before joining her husband outside to do the honors of plugging in the portal, she paused in front of the small console she had added to this version of the portal.

With a melancholic smile she pressed the “off” button.

Today they would be “failing” to turn on the portal.

She consoled her husband when the Portal stayed silent after plugging it in. “We'll have it up and running in due Time, Jack.”

Today their son would die.

Jack cried when they returned to the lab after their break, to a functioning portal.

Maddie did too.

Today their son would live.

Maddie stepped out on the roof of the ops center later that day for some fresh air. There was not a cloud in the sky and the dusk colored the wide expanse in front of her in a beautiful set of colors. She let herself breathe deeply.

Today their son had defeated Fate and the future never looked brighter.

#danny phantom #phandom #dp fic #dp clockwork #mydannyphantom #mywriting #danny fenton #ao3 fanfic #maddie fenton #comments and notes are appreciated #originalwork

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talzane · 2 years

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So, I just learned that Doctor Fate has time powers and is as strong as The Spectre--the embodiment of “The Presence’s” wrath--which means that he too would know that Danny was gonna go dark. Doctor Fate is also a fairly...blunt instrument at times, so it’s reasonable he’d try to kill Danny to prevent Dark Dan from happening. Could you imagine Doctor Fate appearing in front of Danny either at the start or well before TUE, “For the sake of the world, young Phantom, you must be destroyed,” but just as Fate’s magic gathers itself, blue light flashes and time stops. Fate is unaffected by the halting of time, but as the blue light fades from his retinas, there’s an old, blue-skinned, red-eyed, scarred, clock-obsessed *being* in front of him wearing a purple cloak and wielding a staff-mounted stopwatch. “Time out,” the figure monotones. “It is rude not to introduce yourself,” the golden-helmed lord of order stated, his voice metallic from the inside of his helmet. The purple-robed figure’s face didn’t so much as twitch, “All is as it should be, Fate. Leave Amity Park.” “That abomination is a threat to this world, this universe, the timeline, and the multiverse; he must be destroyed.” “Perhaps, but he hasn’t chosen that path yet.” “He will,” Fate crossed his arms. For a moment, the only sound they heard was the ticking of the pendulum in Clockwork’s chest, “He will make the right choice.” “Your goodwill does you credit, but I cannot take that chance.” “You are mistaken.” The robed ghost shifted from an old man to a man in his prime, his red eyes narrowed, and he lowered the watch-staff so that the stopwatch head was closer to his empty hand, “I wasn’t asking, this timeline is *mine*, and your interference will not be permitted.” Fate’s arms uncrossed as his hands drifted into a ready position, “Who are you to make such a claim?” The purple-robed, blue-skinned, clock-covered being smirked, “I have been given many names, but you may call me...Clockwork--master of time--as you *leave* Amity Park.” “The abomination dies, and you will not stop me, no matter your lofty claims.” A glowing, yellow ankh appeared in front of Fate and darted towards Clockwork. The ankh shattered into brilliant fragments, and as the pieces moved to light the space around Clockwork, the master of time was revealed to have not moved even an inch, “Your fate is chosen.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ In a multicolored flash, the world around Danny crumbled; the facades of the buildings lining the street shattered to rain fragments of concrete reduced to no more than sand, the street crumpled into a wrinkled heap pockmarked with craters as though something had repeatedly slammed into it at high speeds, car horns suddenly sounded from the wrecks lining what used to be a road, the light posts--the few still where they were supposed to be--were either dented or crushed like soda cans, but the space immediately surrounding Danny, Sam, and Tucker was left perfectly unmarred, an island of normalcy in a sea of chaos. As Danny attempted to absorb the sudden calamity that had appeared around him, his eyes were drawn to the disappearance of a shrinking, blue circle. As the circle closed on itself and blinked from view, the bell of the Amity Park library tolled twelve times, prompting Danny to look at his watch, “Huh, it’s not midnight.” Tucker finally found his voice, “Uh, dude, shouldn’t we get out of here, you know, before somebody blames us for it?” Sam grabbed Danny’s arm, “You heard him, let’s get out of here!” Danny turned away from the corner of Assured Avenue and Alternative Way, “I dunno guys, you know my life, isn’t it...inevitable that they’ll think it was my fault?” Tucker scoffed as they continued to speed walk away from the scene of the incident, “This being your fault *is* ‘inevitable,’ dude; I meant it being pinned on me and Sam.” This wasn’t supposed to turn into a bad scribble, but it did. I also have head canoned Clockwork as the ghost of Kronos. In DC, the gods’ powers are based on being worshipped, but DP ghost powers are not, which means Kronos--Clockwork--could die in a ton of ectoplasm and just...become the true master of time regardless of worship. Kronos was “evil” for his pursuit of power, but once he becomes Clockwork, he has achieved omnipotence, and omniscience, it’s both why the Observants have kind of enslaved him and why he doesn’t try to conquer the universe: he has seen everything and therefore already knows it will end up being an empty conquest.

#danny phantom #scribbles #dp x dc #dp au #clockwork

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spectacled-renegade-writes · 8 months

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An Early Start - Chapter 5 - Danny Phantom

Ao3: Here | Chapter 1: Here

Ao3 Description: The accident that turns Danny half-ghost happens when he is four years old and leaves him trapped in the Ghost Zone. Clockwork finds him and takes him in to raise. But what happens when Clockwork sends Danny back to the human-world ten years later when a permanent portal appears?

Chapter 5:

As the years passed, and Danny grew from a child to a tween, he slowly grew much more reserved within himself. It was hard to explain but… being alone with your thoughts for so many years… it was practically inevitable, how jaded he grew. Nevertheless, Danny still enjoyed his life. He enjoyed learning, reading, the deep conversations he had with Clockwork, who he now considered a father, and visiting the far reaches of the Ghost Zone.

After Danny perfected the art of his ice powers, Clockwork finally agreed to teach Danny the layout of this world, and the dangers within it. However, only when the day came that Danny knew his way around by heart, did Clockwork finally give him permission to explore on his own. It was a new kind of freedom that Danny relished.

Still, he should have been more aware of the dangers.

It started during a peaceful outing when he was eleven. Danny spent less and less time at home and more and more time in the deepest depths of the Ghost Zone, exploring every nook and cranny. But one thing always remained constant. He always returned home. Without fail. So, when he didn’t, it wasn’t difficult for Clockwork to figure what went wrong. But the boy always was one to learn by doing, and he knew the boy would return home, so Clockwork waited. It was about time this happened.

Danny found himself in a place he’s never been before. Excitedly, Danny pulled out his own makeshift map of the Ghost Zone, sat on a rock, and began to add to it. The air here seemed stale in a way he couldn’t really describe, and it seemed desolate as if abandoned, rather than life that never was. Though it did not affect him, he became aware of the chill that surrounded air. It almost seemed… haunted. Danny thought back to Clockwork’s lesson on irony.

Nevertheless, he persevered. After drawing what he could see, he moved forward, beyond the gray fog which lay ahead. It seemed almost like a barrier, in a way, but Danny was easily able to breach it.

The sight before him once he reached the other side was nothing short of fantastical. He found himself greeted with a large village, a large moat and an even larger castle. It felt like he fell back in time and got pulled to a whole new world all at once; fantasy and history come to life. It was truly a sight to behold. Yet… despite that, it also felt bleak… and grim. Almost despondent even, and it wasn’t long before his presence there became known.

“Who dares trespass on my domain?!”

The sight which appeared before him was a creature even more fantastical than the castle he was greeted with. Appearing from smoke and flame a dragon larger than any ghost Danny has ever encountered rose to the sky. The force of its large, purple wings flapping in the wind nearly knocked him back but he steeled himself and stood his ground… or rather his place in the sky. Yet, despite himself, Danny felt intimidated. For a single masochistic moment, he relished the feeling. Growing up as Clockwork’s ward left him with a certain kind of immunity in the Ghost Zone. But, seeing the rage in the dragon’s dilated, red eyes quickly extinguished those feelings. “I’m… Danny.”

“Danny?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes. Danny… Phantom.” He didn’t know why he said it. He has never been referred to with such a name before. But, for years now, he has felt more ghost than human, and he can’t remember the last time he has been referred to as Fenton either. After all this time that name felt foreign to him, separate. So, Danny Phantom.

“Well, Danny Phantom,” The dragon spit. “You have trespassed on my domain and for that, you must perish!” It wasn’t a moment later that the dragon charged. Danny dodged out of the way but the dragon whipped its head back, opened its mouth, and shot a large burst of fire at him. Danny reacted quickly and shot out his own blast of ice. The two attacks met in the middle and for a moment, struggled to gain the upper hand. But, the dragon won, and his flames melted the ice and hit Danny square in the chest. Danny yelped and went flying back, hitting the wall of the castle and sliding down to the ground. The dragon charged toward him and Danny quickly reached up and shot an ecto-blast from his hands. The attack did not slow the dragon in the slightest and in one fell swoop, he scooped Danny in his claws, shoved him against the wall, and slammed him to the ground.

“Please,” Danny begged. It was perhaps the first time since he was four that he felt such raw fear. “I didn’t mean to trespass. Please, just let me go. I promise I’ll leave and never return.”

“It is far too late for that, child.” The dragon snarled. “You are here and you must pay.” Either this ghost has never heard of Clockwork before, or cared not of his reputation and power. “Now, prepare to burn!”

Danny did not want to die. He wondered, not for the first time, if he fully died, lost his human half, would he disappear completely, or would his ghost half remain? It was a question that plagued him for years now but was the only question he never asked Clockwork. He feared the answer. Now, here he lay, trapped in the claws of a monster, about to learn that answer.

No. No! Not yet. It couldn’t end like this. It couldn’t! Not yet! Danny screamed, something as guttural and primal as his overwhelming fear. A sound of anguish and terror ripped from his throat. Everything he was and everything he feared, nothing and everything all at once. He could not accept this death, not for anything. Before he knew what was going on, the feeling of simultaneous power and weakness overwhelmed him, and the dragon tumbled backward, letting out a screech of its own. Black dots danced before Danny’s vision but he knew he could not stop now. With the last of his remaining strength, ignoring the way the familiar rings of white light surrounded him, he pushed off the ground and flew through the air. With a cry, he breached those gray clouds once again and escaped the fantastical land he’d stumbled upon. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was the familiar sight of the Ghost Zone he knew.

Danny came to at the tower. His home. Clockwork’s home. He felt fuzzy but there was no moment of confusion, no moment where he tried to remember what happened. He knew what happened. Danny rubbed his throat. He was unaware such a wail was a power he possessed. He wondered if Clockwork knew. Somehow, he knew he did.

“So, Danny Phantom, huh?”

Danny sat up properly and looked around. They were in Danny’s room at the top of the tower, a room Clockwork gave to him as his own many years ago, and saw Clockwork staring out the ceiling length window, fiddling with the scepter he always carried.

“If you knew, why didn’t you help me?” Danny asked. He watched as Clockwork moved on to rewind another cog.

“Because I knew you would make it out,” he finally turned to face Danny. He had that ever present all-knowing smile on his face. “And if I came to help you… it would be many years before you discovered the new power you possess.”

Danny mulled that over. In another world perhaps he’d be angry at Clockwork for this. And perhaps in this world he still couldn’t help but feel just the slightest bit annoyed. But, he’s also known Clockwork for years. So, he was more aware than perhaps any other ghost that every single one of Clockwork’s actions, or lack thereof, had a purpose. Danny didn’t respond.

“This… ghostly wail, as I know you call it, is a very powerful and very destructive attack. As I am sure you are aware of by now?”

Danny nodded.

Clockwork hummed. “I trust you know to use it responsibly.” Gracefully, he floated from the window to the entrance of the room at the stairs. “Now, rest, little one.”

~~~~~~~~

Ao3 Notes: Thank you so much for your support/continued support! Have a lovely day/night!

#an early start au #danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #danny phantom fanfic #danny fenton #clockwork #prince aragon #lost time #renegade writes

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karatekels · 10 months

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I saw your writing recently, and I must say, I love,love love it! Do you think you could write something about kk3 Terry? The reader maybe training along with Daniel during that time. Him not being able to say no to keep the act up and genuinely training her on the side, a contrary to Daniel's 'classes'. Maybe they've been a little flirty here and there but as soon as she found out Terry's plans, she's been rather cold. She gets a little too 'friendly' with Daniel and Terry snaps with the immediate need to claim her *spicy spicy* , dragging her to his home that night to make her his! The little virgin gal...

I'm sorry I went on forever there, but my brain conjures up scenarios 100 miles a minute for this guy! Thank you in advance🤍🤭

I’m happy to give it a try, anon – this will be my first KK3 Terry request (though I do have an ongoing fic on AO3 with him right now!) This should be in 2 parts, so enjoy! (Part 2 | Oops, I lied. Part 3)

This now has a sequel that starts here!

---

Silver Seduction - Part 1

---

“Trust me, Y/N. Mr. Silver offered to train me, and since Mr. Miyagi won’t, I’ve got to take him up on it! I can’t let those guys knock me around, and if you’re going to be hanging out with me too, I need to be able to keep you safe!” Daniel LaRusso explained, walking with you through L.A. to a karate dojo. You had only known the boy for a week or so now, but he seemed to have latched onto you with the attentiveness of a puppy and a strong sense of chivalry.

Danny was a sweet boy, just shy of eighteen, but was entirely too sweet, not to mention young, for you. You had been introduced by your little sister, Jessica Andrews, who was planning on leaving L.A. to reunite with her on-again, off-again boyfriend, just as you had arrived to visit your aunt. You were on summer break from university and having just turned 21, were looking forward to a bit of independence in a city as big and important as L.A.

Before leaving, Jessica had filled you in on what had been going on with Daniel. A karate champion from last year’s All-Valley, Daniel had had several unpleasant run-ins with bullies trying to threaten him into competing in the tournament again, and was currently having a strained relationship with his mentor Mr. Miyagi, who he was living with for the summer. Your heart went out to him, imagining he must be quite lonely without any family or friends his own age to confide in, and you agreed to keep an eye on him while you were in L.A., as you didn’t have any friends here either.

“Settle down, Danny – no one has attacked me yet!” you point out, laughing good-naturedly at his enthusiasm for playing the knight in shining armour.

“And I won’t let it come to that,” he promised sagely, and you bite back a smile at his serious tone. “Okay, here we are!” he announced, pointing to the entrance with a grand gesture.

“Cobra Kai karate?” you say incredulously, reading the name above the door. “Isn’t this the place where the last bullies came from?” you ask, trying to keep things light, but unsure if the boy had thought things through.

“Yeah, but that was under the old sensei, Sensei Kreese! Mr. Silver said that he had died, and he’s done nothing but help me so far. He seems like a really nice, hard-working guy, and he doesn’t have any students right now since he’s fixing up the place.” Daniel explains. “Now come on, I don’t want Mr. Miyagi to find out we were here.”

Danny leads you into the dojo, and you walk in quietly to see a man training on his own. He moved through a series of punches and kicks; his kicks were especially amazing, especially for such a tall guy! After a moment or two, he bowed to his reflection in the mirror and turned to face the two of you, trotting over to greet you both. Uh-oh, busted.

“Hey hey, Danny!” he welcomes Daniel warmly, seeming excited, and you take a moment to look at him more closely. He was an incredibly handsome man, probably in his late-twenties or early-thirties, with long black hair tied back in a tight ponytail, stunning blue eyes, and a friendly smile. He seemed to be looking you over as well, his eyes twinkling as he takes you in. Maybe accompanying Daniel on his karate quest had been a good idea after all?

“Hi, Mr. Silver. Listen, I thought about your offer, and-”

“Now Danny, where are your manners? Don’t you think you’d better introduce me to your lovely friend here?” he interrupts. “C’mon, am I gonna need to teach you how to be a gentleman and karate?”

“Oh, uh, sorry, Mr. Silver, of course. This is Y/N Andrews, she’s visiting for the summer. Y/N, this is Terry Silver – he’s going to train me in a different kind of karate.”

Mr. Silver turns to you, bowing, and you blush lightly. “Y/N,” he repeats, savouring your name, “great to meet you.” He hasn’t turned any lights on in the dojo, and the light from the windows is fairly dim, which must explain why his eyes look like they’re glinting.

“Likewise, Mr. Silver,” you reply, smiling shyly. He looks like he’s about to say something else to you, but Danny cuts in.

“So yeah, Mr. Silver, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to take you up on your offer. Just short term, I mean…”

“Trouble? Are you kidding? It would be an honour!” He responds to Daniel with enthusiasm that seems genuine, but you think you may have seen a flash of annoyance on his face as he turned from you to the boy.

“How does Mr. Miyagi feel about it?”

Daniel hesitates. “Mr. Miyagi, he uhh… he doesn’t know about it.”

You give the two of them some space, stepping away to take a closer look at the dojo as the matter didn’t concern you. You had never been in a karate dojo before, but it felt a little familiar. You had taken gymnastics classes for years, while your sister had taken up rock-climbing, and you imagine that this was where the feeling of familiarity stemmed from. Based on the moves you’d just seen from Mr. Silver, karate sure looked like a lot fun. Maybe he could teach you too, you thought, half-serious.

“It’s not much yet,” Mr. Silver says, and you jump, not having heard him approach. He puts a hand on your shoulder to steady you, giving you an apologetic smile. “But it will be when I’m through with it!”

“I’m sure it’ll be great, Mr. Silver! Danny says you’ve been working really hard to fix it up,” you encourage. He smiles at you, taking a couple of steps closer and bending down to speak in your ear.

“Hey, c’mon, you’re not some kid I’m teaching. You can call me Terry when it’s just us!” he whispers conspiratorially. You find yourself smiling, pleased that he sees you on more equal footing with himself.

“Okay, Terry,” you emphasize, and he gives you a pleased smile. “Where’s Daniel?” He gestures down the hall to a closed door.

“Changing; I had a spare gi in the closet. He wants me to train him, and we’re not gonna waste any time!” he declares. You find it sweet of him to take Danny under his wing so immediately. “What are you doing with that kid, anyway? You his babysitter or something?”

“No, nothing like that,” you laugh. “My sister introduced me to him before she went back home, said he’s been dealing with some kids harassing him. I don’t really know anyone here, and he’s a nice kid, so I thought I’d keep an eye on him.”

“Hey, you know me now, so you can hang out with someone your own size!” he jokes, clearly referencing Daniel’s short stature. You take a step back, making a show of looking up at him to emphasize your height difference, and he laughs. “Well, someone who’s also an adult, then,” Terry concedes, smirking slightly and looking over your shoulder.

“I’m basically an adult!” you hear a voice from behind you, and turn to see Danny standing there, having changed into the uniform for training.

“Danny! Wow, you look great,” you say, gesturing to his gi. You hope you haven’t embarrassed him with your conversation. How long had he been standing there listening, anyway?

“Thanks, Y/N!” he says, beaming at you. He was so sweet and innocent, and it was so easy to make him happy. “Are you gonna stay and watch me train?” he asks hopefully, and you can tell he’s eager to show off. You look over at Terry.

“I’d love to, if it’s okay with Te- with Mr. Silver, of course,” you say, winking at him. He grins, giving you a once over, and you blush. “I mean, I’d love to learn a few moves myself. Oh, I know!” you exclaim, hopping up and down in your excitement. “You guys can use me to practice on!” Daniel balks at the idea immediately, but Terry considers you with a thoughtful expression.

“I don’t wanna hit you, Y/N!” Daniel protests, but you shake your head.

“No, nothing like that. But if Mr. Silver is going to show you how to flip someone or sweep their leg or something, you can practice on me! That way he can make sure you’re doing it properly. I won’t get hurt, I’ve done gymnastics for years and I know how to land safely! Please let me help?” you ask, looking at them both hopefully.

“I don’t know…” Danny hesitates, still seeming uncomfortable with the idea, so you turn to Terry, knowing that if you can convince him Daniel will have to go along with it.

“Oh, come on! I let you and Danny practice tossing me around, and I pick up a few moves in the process! It’s a win-win! Please?” you ask, eyes bright. You had told Jess that you would keep an eye on Danny, especially with the bullies that had been bothering the two of them lately, and this would give you a great opportunity. Plus, you really wanted to spend some more time with Terry. You’d had fun talking with him today, and he was more than easy on the eyes. Terry eyes you, sizing you up and clearly contemplating something.

“Alright, alright!” he gives in, raising his hands up and grinning. “I guess I could use the help. But you’re both gonna have to listen to me, alright?”

You and Danny both nod, excited to watch Daniel train and to learn from Mr. Silver – Terry – yourself.

---

You landed on the floor on your back as your legs were kicked out from under you, hitting the ground the way Terry taught you, and giggled breathlessly. That was fun!

“You like that, huh?” he asks, grinning down at you. You take his offered hand and hop to your feet, smiling back. You had had a great time, watching Terry put Daniel through the paces – you tried to follow along with the kata as best you could, trying to copy them but not wanting to take Terry’s attention away from Danny. He’s the one that really need to be trained, after all.

“See, Danny? I’m totally fine!” you point out to him, and he folds his arms and rolls his eyes, but gives you a smile.

“Fine, I guess it’s okay,” he concedes, and you and Terry share an amused look.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Terry says. “Why don’t you go get changed, Mr. LaRusso, and I’ll walk Y/N through another couple moves so that she can practice with you tomorrow?” Danny nods, heading back down the hall to get changed. Terry turns back to you, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“You’re a pretty fast learner, Y/N,” he compliments. “I saw you trying to follow us through the kata, and you’re not bad. I bet I could really teach you a lot if I didn’t have to focus on the Karate Kid,” he says, pointing back to where Daniel was with his thumb. You blush at the praise.

“Thank you, Mr. Si- Terry,” you correct yourself, and he smiles wolfishly. “But Daniel only has a few days to train, so he should of course take priority.”

“So I’ll train you separately!” he proclaims, and you go to protest, but he cuts you off. “I was gonna have to train Danny without you anyways, to go over the stuff that you can’t help with, and he can’t train all day; he’ll wear himself out!”

“Won’t you wear yourself out, training both of us all the time?” you point out, raising an eyebrow at him.

“It takes a lot more than that to tire me out,” he says, winking at you, and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep you from smiling. Still, you hesitate, not wanting to take up too much of his time.

“The response you’re looking for is ‘Yes, Sir’,” he offers teasingly, quoting himself from an earlier conversation with Daniel, but his eyes are intense. You bite your bottom lip, and see that his eyes track the movement.

“Yes, Sir!” you concede, giving him a mocking salute. Terry beams at you.

---

And so it went. Terry would spend the next few days alternating between teaching you and Daniel together, going through the kata and using you to demonstrate moves, and then teaching you separately, Daniel visiting the dojo in the early afternoon and you coming by in the evening.

You were on your way to the dojo now for your evening class, and took the time during the walk over to think about all that had happened in the past week. You were definitely sore, and had more than your share of bruises, but from the way Daniel had been limping around (trying his best to hide it), you can tell that Terry was training him way harder.

Still, the training had been worth it – not only were you learning to be a decent fighter, and helping Daniel to improve, but getting to spend time with Terry, especially during your 1-on-1 sessions, was really fun. You had been getting more comfortable with one another, and had definitely been flirting throughout your private training with him. Did he get a little closer to you when correcting your form than he would need to, and did his touches linger as he adjusted your hips, adjusting your stance to land a proper punch? Most definitely, but you couldn’t find it in you to mind. Terry seemed genuinely pleased by your progress, and you loved the charming smile he gave you when you perfected a move. And yesterday, when you walked into the dojo, he had presented you with a beautiful flower, saying that he’d seen it on his drive over earlier that day and that he couldn’t resist picking it for you. You had accepted the gift, smiling shyly, and had reached up, pulling him down into a hug so you could place a quick kiss on his cheek.

He was just so wonderful, and you could definitely feel yourself falling for him. You were very inexperienced when it came to dating, having only had a couple of relationships in high school, and had been too focused on studying in college to waste your time with boys. But if Terry decided to ask you for a date, you knew you would be helpless to resist him.

Smiling at the thought, you turned the corner to the Cobra Kai dojo, but were startled out of your daydreaming by the sound of a panicked scream and laughter. The door banged open, and you quickly dashed into the bushes outside to hide. Daniel came running out, clutching his stomach, and you could see blood on his shirt and that he looked absolutely terrified. What on earth was going on?

You heard the door open again, and heard bare feet hitting the pavement at a run.

“Get back in there, LaRusso,” demanded a young boy in a white Cobra Kai gi.

“Leave me alone, Barnes! I’m not fighting anymore!” Still, he turned to face the boy as he said this, assuming a defensive stance and trying not to let the pain on his face. Barnes? Wasn’t that one of the kids that had been harassing him and Jessica? What was he doing here?

“Hey, we ain’t done with you yet!” yelled the boy, taking a threatening step towards Daniel.

“But he is now done with you.”

Mr. Miyagi stepped in between the boys, appearing from nowhere. Where had he come from? Had he seen you? You tried not to panic, pushing yourself further against the outer wall of the dojo to stay hidden.

“Was I talking to you, old man?” Barnes sneered dismissively.

Quick as a flash, Mr. Miyagi had picked up the boy and thrown him clean through the dojo door.

“You stay here, Daniel-san.” He ordered, walking in after the boy. Daniel hesitates, eyes wide, but after a moment or two sneaks in after him. You hear a scream, and the lights in the dojo go out. Turning, you try to see what’s going on through the window. Where was Terry? Was he alright? But you can’t see anything through the closed curtains, and can only hear the sound of fighting. Just how many of them were there? You couldn’t bear the thought of Mr. Miyagi going up against more than one person. You knew he was a good fighter, but he was so small.

Suddenly, you hear the now-familiar sound of Terry’s voice, but he doesn’t sound quite right. He sounds mean.

“You think this is the end of it, old man? I’m going to open Cobra Kai dojos all over this valley!” you hear him scream. Terry was fighting Mr. Miyagi?

“Hell, I might even teach for free! From now on when people say karate around here, all they’ll mean is Cobra Kai karate – John Kreese’s karate! You won’t even be a memory!” Kreese? Hadn’t Daniel said he died? What the hell was going on.

You hear Daniel’s voice, close to the entrance. “Yes he will! You won’t!” he cries passionately, and the door opens again, and you see Danny and Mr. Miyagi step out onto the street once more, both thankfully looking unharmed. As the door swings shut, you hear the sound of men laughing evilly, like hyenas, and it sends a chill up your spine.

“Now will you train me?” Danny asks desperately.

“Hai,” the man agrees, nodding sagely, and the two of them head down the street back home. But Daniel suddenly stops in his tracks, looking horrified.

“We gotta tell Y/N to stay away from them! She’s probably on her way for her lesson!” he exclaims, taking off down the road. Mr. Miyagi walks quickly after him, and you feel your heart warmed at the thought that they were looking out for you. But you were an adult, and you didn’t need others to take care of you, at least, not without you getting a word in first.

Steeling yourself, you take a deep breath and walk into the dojo. Immediately, you take in the mess of broken glass and paint, and are immediately relieved that Danny and Mr. Miyagi appeared to walk out unharmed. Stepping quietly into the dojo, you see the younger boy, Mike Barnes, on the ground, looking bewildered with his head in his hands. Terry – covered in paint, for some reason – is talking in a low, angry voice, to a shorter yet still very intimidating-looking man, who you recognized from signs in the dojo as John Kreese. So, not dead then, you realize, and your heart immediately clenches at the realization that Terry had been in on it from the beginning. How could you have been so stupid?

“Terry?” you call out to him, hating how your voice comes out weak and shaky, but your anger has caught you so off-guard it isn’t able to burst out of you quite yet. Barnes jumps to his feet and immediately takes a fighting stance, but Terry waves him off with a hand. The three of them move to approach you, with Terry in the centre, eyes wild with excitement.

“Hey hey, beautiful!” he greets boisterously, clapping his hands. You’d think he’d be a bit less exuberant, covered in paint and having had his ass kicked by a man twice his age and half his size. He lopes over to you, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you over to the others, and you’re in such shock by his lack of awareness that you let him.

“Johnny, this is Y/N! Ain’t she something?” he asks, standing behind you with his hands on your shoulders and looking to Kreese for approval. The older man looks you up and down, and you feel dirty.

“When you told me to enjoy myself in Tahiti, Terry, I felt bad enjoying the company of those women you’d provided. It would’ve cleared my conscience to know you had found yourself a girl stateside!” Kreese joked, leering at you. The pair share a laugh that sounds more than a little cruel, and you feel yourself start to tear up. But the feeling of devastation is quickly overwhelmed by your anger.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you yell at him, wrenching yourself out of his grip. “What did you do to Danny?” he crosses his arms, looking down on you like he’s disappointed that you’re even asking, and shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it, baby girl,” he croons, reaching for you, but you swat his hand away, and a flash of anger crosses his face. “That little prick ruined the name of this dojo, my dojo, and I needed to teach him a lesson!”

“What are you talking about? I saw him come out of here bloody and hurt! He’s just a kid!” you exclaim, and he laughs under his breath, smirking. Who was this guy, and where the hell had the sweet, kind Terry you’d gotten to know gone? “You… you lied to me.” You hear your voice shaking, and you’re close to tears. You hate how weak you must look in front of these men, these monsters, who would jump a kid just for winning a karate tournament.

“Hey, I didn’t lie to you,” Terry says smoothly, and you try to interrupt him, but he continues. “I lied to him, and you just happened to be there.”

You’re shocked at how cold and callous he’s being, your mouth falling open, and he comes towards you once more. You feel yourself shrink back in fear.

“Come on, doll. This doesn’t have to get in the way of you and me,” he croons, reaching towards your face. Without thinking, you reel back and punch him in the face, causing him to stumble back, more from the surprise than the force.

“Don’t you ever come near me again, do you hear me? I’m fucking done with you!”

Kreese looks shocked, but doesn’t make a move towards you, standing his ground with his arms crossed and surveying the situation, but Barnes comes towards you again, fists clenched. Terry, one hand clutching his bleeding nose, reaches out with the other to stop the boy.

“Leave it,” is all he says, and Barnes obeys like a well-trained dog. You back out of the dojo, staring at Terry through your tears, and as soon as your back hits the door you turn, running off into the night.

#terry silver #karate kid #kk3 #thomas ian griffith #one-sided daniel larusso x reader #terry silver x reader #cobra kai

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nancydrewwouldnever · 1 year

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THE GLOBE AND MAIL (TORONTO)

GAYLE MACDONALD PUBLISHED FEBRUARY 9, 2009

When Chris Evans is not on a movie set - spewing testosterone, saving the world, helping dames in distress - the handsome actor can usually be found at a dog park in Los Angeles. It's an inner-city haunt where he takes "the love of his life," a cheeky American bulldog named East.

"He thinks he's human," says the chuckling 27-year-old Massachusetts native. "We'll go to the dog park, and he sits on the bench, with the people. And he just looks at the dogs like, 'You idiots. Running around. Rolling in the dirt. Please!' He's just so above it. He's the greatest dog in the world. I can't get enough of him."

Evans, who grew up Catholic but has since embraced Eastern spiritualism, is in the dining room of Toronto's Drake Hotel, chatting about his new science-fiction thriller, Push, in which he co-stars with Dakota Fanning and Camilla Belle. Oblivious to the furtive glances being lobbed his way by some young women in the room, Evans has morphed of late into the go-to guy for directors who want brawn, but not beefcake. He's an actor (Cellular, the Human Torch in the Fantastic Four films) whose heroes have a sensitive, vulnerable side - but can still kick ass.

Good-looking, in a Boston-bred, Matt Damon kind of way, Evans says he's perplexed by how his career has moved into these nice, tough-guy roles. "I don't know how it's happened, to be honest," says Evans, also part of the ensemble in Danny Boyle's 2007 sci-fi thriller Sunshine.

"It's not intentional. It's certainly not deliberate," says the actor, scratching chin scruff. "It's just kind of come that way. But they're not kicking down my door, by any means. These are roles that I still have to go out and compete for.

"I like sci-fi, paranormal stuff, but it's not the top of my list," adds Evans, who dated actress Jessica Biel for several years. "I primarily like stories about family. About friendship. Stories that are just really simple.

"And oddly enough," he says with a laugh, "I've yet to make a movie that is really like that."

In Paul McGuigan's Push (which opened in theatres on Friday), Evans plays Nick Gant, a second-generation telekinetic - or "mover" - who has been in hiding since his father (another mover) was murdered by The Division. When the film starts, Gant is hiding in Hong Kong, trying to stay off the radar of The Division, a shadowy government body hell-bent on transforming citizens into an army of psychic warriors, and murdering those who aren't in sync with their program. Gant meets Cassie Holmes (Fanning) - a "watcher" who can read the future - and the two become the hunters and the hunted as they try to save civilization.

Evans said it was a treat working with the 14-year-old Fanning, who he adds must have grown four inches in the nine months since they shot Push. "I remember hearing her name circling the project, and that definitely sweetened the pot. She's so phenomenal. Having her part of it brings a certain class to the film."

In his spare time, Evans says he and his faithful hound travel back to the East Coast to visit his parents and three siblings, and not long ago - through a "life class" he's part of in Los Angeles (hence the aforementioned spiritualism) - he also journeyed to India's mountainous region in the north.

His decision to take the class, he says, was primarily to find a better way of dealing with the "crazy, sometimes horrible" side of L.A. "It's helping me to manage perception, ego, mind and self. The class tries to present a way of looking at your life, where you focus on staying present and not let your consciousness get out.

"For a while, I foolishly thought that [Hollywood] wouldn't be a difficult thing. Acting is my passion - and I love it - but I believed I'd always have a firm handle on it. I can say, openly and humbly, that over the past few years it's become more difficult. I've thought about moving out of L.A., but for now I'm there, and the work is there. I have great books that I go to on a daily basis just to inject some sanity back."

That said, he adds, some of his greatest friendships have been forged in his nutty business. And he counts Oscar-nominated director Boyle (Slumdog Millionaire) as one of the most exemplary people he's had the fortune to meet - and work with.

"I don't know if you've ever met him, but he's the kindest man in the world. He's genuine. Sincere. And when he speaks to you, he'll look right at you like you're the only person in the room," he says, before interjecting: "Did you know he was going to be a priest?

"The guy just reinvents himself. Whatever he just did, he'll go to the other end of the spectrum [on his next project]and try something completely different. And he nails it every single time. I'm thrilled for him," says Evans, referring to Slumdog Millionaire's 10 nominations for this month's Academy Awards.

"He has the right to everything he's getting right now. He totally deserves it all."

~~*~~

Another earlier Push era interview culled from the archives at the Chris Evans Forum. They're amazing for having kept these older articles around.

#interview #2009 #push movie #chris evans

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ayamari-no-goshi · 1 year

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Chasing Shadows (11)

AO3 -> first, last, next

Fandoms: Danny Phantom (DP) / DC universe

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

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

Parings: none

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

“Jason, you need to disarm the bomb!”

“…I can’t…”

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

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

“I was told I’d find you out here.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Dove? You mean Phantom?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Got it in one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? Do you know who it is?”

“No! It’s…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everything I could to stop them, legally.”

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

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

“It’s already in motion.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Notes:

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

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

Plant notes :)

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

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

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

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

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

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irenethewoman · 6 months

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Mrs. Shelby - Chapter 21 - Christmas

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"Are you spending Christmas alone this year?" "Ada, you know, to solve the problem, you must ring the bell." I sighed. "They are still resentful of Tommy. Except for Michael, who is still working, they don't even want to see me." "But our little Ollie hasn't met his cousin yet, has he?" Ada gently rubbed Orlando's head. The little guy was looking up at us, bubbles coming out of his mouth. I bent down and wiped his mouth. Last Christmas Eve, I gave birth to our second child with Tommy, a boy, and named him Orlando. Tommy was a bit disappointed; he thought it would be a girl. But Charles and Carl were happy; they finally had a new playmate. "Danny… we are a family…" "I know." I kept my head down, not looking at Ada. I looked at our son and eventually swallowed the complaints that were on the tip of my tongue, just pulling out a smile. "We are family, dear." I stood by the window, watching Ada leave in the car. I knew there would be a family gathering at John's big house during Christmas, and I think my husband knows that too.

"Family" is a somewhat unfamiliar term to me. It sounds more stable than a spouse but colder than close relatives. In 1914, I fled London and was taken in by Polly, but until I returned to Birmingham in 1920, I always felt like a lone soul, never truly integrated into the Shelby family, even after Tommy and I fell in love—we were more like an ordinary couple with our own families.

"Family" now has their own little families. Before that, the Shelby family was a united force, unstoppable. But Ada has Carl, John and Esme developed feelings through marriage, Polly found Michael again, Arthur met Linda, and everything started to develop in unpredictable directions. I'm not asking them to dedicate their lives to the family without personal feelings. But they have their own calculations, considering their family interests, putting the Shelby family's interests behind.

Yet they demand Tommy to be unwavering.

I still remember the unreasonable demands of the Shelbys when I was injured from the gunshot—Tommy "should" come back. Things they couldn't do, they demanded from my little prince, forcing him to put his beloved wife and child in second place, a position that would continue to torment him with guilt and worry. I dare not imagine what kind of life Tommy would lead if I had slept forever after being shot.

"Family" may be a curse buried in the blood of the Shelby family, a debt that Tommy cannot escape in his lifetime.

After June last year, sometimes I wonder, if the Shelby family only had Tommy, he might have broken through the class barrier long ago, stood in Parliament like other MPs, looking righteous and glorious.

I lower my head.

Ada is now the bridge of communication between Tommy and the rest of the Shelby family, and I can't let him lose this sister because of my grievances.

I didn't say these things just now, and I won't say them to Tommy.

Never.

Tommy has been busy lately, coming home much later than before, and when he comes home, he locks himself in the study. If I didn't have confidence in Tommy and didn't "patrol" the house every day, I would suspect that Tommy had a third party hidden in the study.

I intercepted the maid who brought him wine. "Give it to me." "Please come in."

After getting Tommy's permission, I opened the door and placed the tray of wine on his desk. By the time he saw a hand different from usual, I had already walked behind him. I bent down, my gaze passing over him to look at the documents in his hand.

"Danny."

I heard him calling me, with a pampering and helpless tone. I casually responded.

He hugged my waist, stood up, and kissed my lips. "Caught you, a little cat running around." "Your mouth is dry." After a gentle kiss, I raised my hand to touch his lips. But he opened his mouth and took my fingertip into his mouth. "Pervert!" I glanced at him, pulled out my hand, and gave him the wine.

Tommy took the glass, raised his head, and drank it all at once. Then he continued to hug my waist.

"You've been busy lately. Is there a problem with the company?" "Almost suspected you were keeping a lover in the study." I smiled and avoided his kiss. "What's wrong? Is there a problem with the company?" "But I think you already have a plan?" My curiosity was aroused by the smile on his face.

"Come on, Tommy." I held Tommy's hand and coquettishly said.

He took advantage of it to hug me and stood up, leaning over to kiss me, with small, warm kisses falling on my skin, tickling.

Too ticklish, I couldn't help laughing, gently patting his shoulder, trying to make him stop this childish thing that only Charlie would do.

"It's time, Tommy. I haven't fed Ollie yet!" "You should feed me first, dear."

After the rain stopped, we sat face to face in the bathtub.

"Do you know Jessie Eden?" Tommy leaned against the other end of the bathtub as if sitting on a throne.

"I've heard of her." I thought for a moment, recalling the cute round face woman with an apple. "She's famous, a union leader. Last year, if I remember correctly, on Good Friday, she led other workers to the streets for more women's toilets."

"She's always causing trouble. She thinks the wages of the factory girls are too low."

I looked at my husband sitting on the opposite side with a calm smile, but his smile disappeared.

The Shelby Foundation has always been my responsibility. I know it's a way for Tommy to whitewash, to improve our image in the eyes of the public. Before Ollie was born, I visited the factories under my husband's name. But what I saw shocked me—some pregnant women had to sit in front of the machines.

I was pregnant with Ollie at that time, and I knew how difficult pregnancy could be. Even if Tommy wanted someone to take care of me 24 hours a day, he couldn't make up for the physical pain and discomfort.

My background and assets mean that I never need to work like those women. I just need to take care of Charlie at home, occasionally show my face in Birmingham like a mascot, and enjoy the careful care of the maids and the love from my husband and son. Those women, even when pregnant, had to run for the family's livelihood, and when they returned home, there might be countless chores waiting for them.

Whether it's for the future of the Shelby family or out of sympathy for those women, there are some things I must say.

"Tommy, no matter what, you can't lower their wages. Maintaining the status quo is the best."

"You know my job, dear. If we can win over the union, it will be a great help to us. We need to unite all the forces we can unite, Tommy."

"But I think you already have a plan."

My curiosity was aroused by the smile on his face.

"Come on, Tommy." I held Tommy's hand and coquettishly said.

He took advantage of it to hug me and stood up

, leaning over to kiss me, with small, warm kisses falling on my skin, tickling.

Too ticklish, I couldn't help laughing, gently patting his shoulder, trying to make him stop this childish thing that only Charlie would do.

"It's time, Tommy. I haven't fed Ollie yet!" "You should feed me first, dear."

After the rain stopped, we sat face to face in the bathtub.

"Do you know Jessie Eden?" Tommy leaned against the other end of the bathtub as if sitting on a throne.

"She's always causing trouble. She thinks the wages of the factory girls are too low."

I looked at my husband sitting on the opposite side with a calm smile, but his smile disappeared.

Whether it's for the future of the Shelby family or out of sympathy for those women, there are some things I must say.

"Tommy, no matter what, you can't lower their wages. Maintaining the status quo is the best."

"You know my job, dear. If we can win over the union, it will be a great help to us. We need to unite all the forces we can unite, and the union is the most critical one." I knew it wouldn't be so simple. I took a deep breath and looked at Tommy. "I understand your thoughts, but you also need to consider the interests of the Shelby family. If you hurt those women, not only will you lose support, but it may also cause conflicts within the family." "Jessie Eden is a thorn in my side, but I can't just eliminate her. The union has too much influence in Birmingham. We need a plan to control the situation and achieve our goals without causing too much trouble."

I nodded. "I will think about it, and I will help you find a way to deal with this matter properly."

Tommy's eyes softened as he looked at me. "Thank you, my love. I know I can always rely on you."

We finished our bath and got dressed, heading downstairs to join the family for dinner. As we walked hand in hand, I couldn't help but think about the challenges ahead. The world was changing, and the Shelby family needed to adapt. I would do my best to support Tommy, but I also had to ensure the well-being of our family.

As we entered the dining room, the atmosphere shifted. Ada and Michael were sitting at the table, discussing something in hushed tones. John and Esme seemed tense, exchanging glances. Arthur was unusually quiet, his eyes darting between Tommy and me.

I could sense the tension in the air, and I knew that the Shelby family was on the verge of a new chapter, one that would test our bonds and loyalties. The storm was brewing, and I had to navigate through it, not just as Tommy's wife, but as a Shelby with her own convictions.

The dinner table was filled with both the aroma of food and the unspoken weight of the challenges that lay ahead.

#cillian murphy #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #thomas shelby #tommy shelby imagine #fanfiction #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic

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the-random-phan · 2 years

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So Alone (No You're Not)

My @invisobang fic! Sequel to last year's Invisobang fic. Find the links for that here.

It must be read first for this to make any sense at all :)

Word Count: 23,439

Summary:

Phantom's Keep. Much nicer than the old name. But all is not well and stone is not yet set. Danny navigates all of the expectations that are laid out for him as the rising Ghost King and what it really means. Not only for his human life, but Sam and Tucker's as well. Would they really be better off without him bogging them down?

Ao3

FFnet

This post has only the first chapter, you have to go to Ao3 or FFnet for the rest!

MONDAY 8 PM

“I guess we have some time to kill.” Sam wondered aloud. She was laying across the bed, kicking her feet idly. She picked at one of the fur blankets.

The room was full of various drapery and furs. Which made sense, seeing as it was a room fit for a king.

Yeesh, Danny still felt strange thinking about that. It felt like just yesterday Clockwork had popped into his room and demanded a meeting. Only for Danny to discover that, apparently, the GZ itself had chosen him to be the next King and oh, yeah, if he didn’t accept then the entirety of the Infinite Realms would destabilize. No pressure, right?

And if the Realms collapsed, Earth was next on the chopping block. His obsession made the choice for him, no way could he let something like that happen.

Yeah. That was a fun Monday afternoon. A whirlwind of the next two weeks went by, and now the trio were at the Keep. Pariah’s Keep to be exact. Danny felt shivers down his spine as he looked around the room.

Pariah probably used to live here, didn’t he? An unwanted thought told him to tear it to shreds, for what that tyrant had done, but it was washed away by his morals. Dora’s people had already done so much to restore the wartorn Keep, he didn’t want to cause any more damage.

Mattingly -Dora’s Kingdom- were spearheading the heavy project that was restoring the Keep. Dora herself had also been largely helpful in just organizing things, stuff Danny had no idea how to do. She even got him teachers to help him learn all the things he needed to know, if he was ever gonna be a good King. He’d never be able to thank her for all she’s done, but he certainly planned to try.

Sam stood up, walking around the bend in the room, where they hadn’t yet ventured. She found a door she hadn’t noticed at first.

“Check this out!” She shouted, waving them over. Danny came, but Tucker stayed where he’d collapsed on the bed’s pillows. The only response he gave was a tired sigh. When Danny neared he saw Sam, holding open a heavy door. What he saw behind it was shocking. It was a humongous closet, probably almost the size of his bedroom, if a bit narrower.

Sam entered first, surveying the clothes on either wall. She eyed the various pairs of shoes on the bottom shelves. She grabbed one that looked like it would hurt if thrown, but probably wouldn’t leave a bruise. Danny ducked out of her way as she exited, clearly on a mission.

Sam rounded the corner and lobbed the shoe at Tucker’s head.

“Hey!” He shouted, when smacked in the forehead with a heeled boot. Tucker shot up, grabbing the shoe and returning fire before he even realized what he’d been holding.

“What- where did you find a shoe?” Tucker questioned. Sam just took a step back and gestured to the closet. Tucker got up from the bed and looked curiously into the open doorway.

The closet was packed to the brim with clothes, but not unorganized. It was separated into three distinct sections, presumably one for each of them. Dora must've had a hand in picking out the wardrobes, because they were themed in their respective favorite colors. She was the only one who they were vaguely familiar enough with to know such a thing. Although it was also the colors most of them wore every day, so that probably clued her in. Or maybe it was sheer coincidence, who knows?

To the right was a wall of blacks and purples. It was ordered between tops, pants, skirts, and dresses. There were three pairs of shoes- black flats, what looked like black riding boots(one of which was missing), and a short pair of heels. The entire selection really looked like it’d been pulled from a renaissance festival, which Danny supposed was kinda Dora’s style.

It’d been a while since he’d been to one of those. The last time was probably in Middle school when Jazz-

Jazz.

Heckity.

Danny’s promise came back to him suddenly, the one he’d made with Sarah. His core rumbled slightly, nervously, in his chest. If he didn’t tell Jazz about the fight with Dash in the next week, Sarah was gonna tell her for him. Danny lets loose one time and it bites him in the butt. Of course, just his luck. If Jazz got that video without any context she would immediately turn and start trying to psycho-analyze him. He wouldn’t be able to hide anything from her if she was looking for it.

Really, Jazz deserved to know what was going on. But Danny didn’t want to tell her. That’d be like making the whole thing real- if it wasn’t real enough already.

Danny turned back to the room. That was a future Danny problem. (Not Dan, to be exact. Just Danny-but-a-week-from-now. He didn’t want to think about what will have happened in that week).

Sam pawed through her selection of clothes, humming at some of the options. She got a disgusted look on her face when she saw a ballgown. It was at least purple, but still way out of Sam’s usual style. Danny floated to watch over Sam’s shoulder and saw a tag on the dress in ghost speak. Sam turned and held it up for him to read, and Danny did so aloud.

“Every girl needs at least one. From Dorathea.”

“I guess,” Sam said sarcastically. She shoved the dress back into place, intending to forget about it no doubt.

To the right of the closet was a sea of yellows, gold, and various neutral browns. Clearly meant for Tucker. There were comparatively fewer clothes for him than Sam, though it was still a full wardrobe’s worth. Tucker’s eyes sparkled as he marveled at the selection. His was organized similarly, and was just as medieval. But that didn’t seem to bother him. He pulled a few things off the racks and judged them against himself in the mirror. They all looked to be around the right size, if a bit small for him. Tucker’s growth spurt had done him very few favors, so far. (That didn’t keep Danny from being salty that the top of his head only came up to Tucker’s nose.)

Finally, at the end of the room was Danny’s section. An ocean of blues and silver. As well as some whites. A pop of green or two. Danny ran a hand along the fabric. It felt cool beneath his fingertips, obviously not of the Real World in origin. It was native to the GZ, it would seem. That was interesting. He wondered, who in the GZ made clothes? Did full ghosts even have a need for them? And what were they made of? Where did they sell them?

Danny realized suddenly there was so much he didn’t know about the GZ, and its culture. Guess that’s what happens when the only things you do in an alternate dimension are fight and meet up with a time god. And also become High King, apparently.

Sitting on a mannequin was a cape that made Danny’s core skip a beat.

It was a floor-length cloak, with a hood of white fur. The length was ombre, starting at a deep navy blue and ending in a dark teal-green.

Flashes passed before Danny’s eyes, memories of Clockwork’s time mirror and the damning image it’d shown.

Danny stepped forward gingerly. He reached out to the cloak so that he could feel the fabric. It was soft, and cool in his hands. Like a breeze. The fur was a stark white, maybe even brighter than his hair. The clasp was expertly crafted, mimicking Sam’s logo perfectly. It was a work of art, but Danny couldn’t help but hold ill will towards the garment.

A stray thought in his head said to burn it. Let it reduce to ashes in his hands. To take control of the story narrative. But he knew he couldn’t do that. He never would have, the future is the proof. And if that didn’t make him feel a bit hopeless, what would?

Danny abandoned the cloak and perused the rest of the clothes. He whistled lowly. He was particularly drawn to a rack of flowy dress shirts. He felt the material- it was soft and silky. Danny walked to the other side, hand tracing across the clothing yet again.

He marveled at how it all hummed ever-so-slightly under his fingertips.

As Danny was going through his clothes, Sam was pulling things off the rack. She went over to a floor-length mirror that hung in the closet and held things in front of her, comparing their styles. A sudden sharp grin crossed her face.

“What do you guys say to a bit of a fashion show?” She suggested gleefully. Tucker’s head popped up.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” He agreed. They looked to Danny. He shifted awkwardly.

“I suppose it can’t hurt. We just gotta make sure to put everything back.” His friends both shot him thumbs up.

“Since it was my idea I wanna go first, you guys out so I can change.” With that Sam shoved them out of the closet, left to her own devices.

“I wanted to go first.” Tucker mumbled. He threw himself into a plush chair that sat next to the bookshelf.

“How long do you reckon she’ll be?” Danny asked.

“No clue,” Shrugged Tucker. Danny elected to sit on the bed.

Surprisingly, Sam only took a few minutes. She waltzed out like a model.

Sam wore a dark purple shirt that had bell sleeves, which ended around her elbows. Around her waist was a black corset, which had plum roses embroidered into the panels. It was tied in the front with a ribbon. There was a jeweled belt over the corset that had a small chain hanging down off of it. It was offset, dangling off her hip. She wore flowy black pants that disappeared into her riding boots.

Sam had never really been a fantasy goth, but her outfit was certainly striking.

She held up two cloaks, each with a furry black hood. Danny hadn't even seen she had cloaks.

"Black or purple?" She asked, holding either up to her shoulder. Danny was out of his depth. They both looked okay? Fashion wasn’t his forte, he usually stuck to graphic t-shirts and jeans. Maybe a flannel if he was feeling it.

Tucker hummed.

"Maybe black?" He suggested with a shrug. Sam raised a brow quizzically. She tossed it over her shoulder, hastily putting the other back on its hanger. She struck a pose.

“You look kinda like a knight,” Danny remarked. She looked ready to ride into battle in a medieval period drama.

“Yeah?” Sam asked. She spun, watching the various frills and cape flutter. There was a wide grin across her face.

“Do you think they expect us to wear this stuff?” She asked quizzically. She did another spin, in the opposite direction.

Briar had mentioned something about (insulted) their modern clothes, so perhaps? They wouldn't just be there for no reason, right? Oh Danny was already dreading having to pick out clothes, if that was the case. He hoped it wasn’t.

“Honestly, I have no clue.” Danny replied.

“I dunno,” Tucker added with a shrug. Sam made a ‘hm’ sound.

“Well I don’t want to get changed back into my own clothes yet, so one of you go ahead.” Said Sam, throwing her ponytail over her shoulder. When Danny didn’t immediately volunteer, Tucker spoke up.

“I guess I’ll go.” He said, getting up from his seat.

“Any suggestions?” He asked in Sam’s direction. She stepped back into the closet and Tucker followed suit. Danny didn’t want to get up, he just flopped back on the bed.

The sudden movement made Danny’s head hurt. It reminded him suddenly how he’d been in a fight with Dash not even 12 hours ago. Injuries in his human form always lasted longer, though not to the same extent as if he was completely without his ghost half. Just… sluggishly.

His nose in particular was throbbing, each pulse of his core (heart?) making him feel like his head would explode from the pressure. Not a good reminder. He transformed, and a bit of the pain drifted away. Being in ghost form helped a bit, but not nearly as much as he would have liked.

Sam and Tucker talked for a bit, their voices warbling through the walls from the other room. Sam left Tucker on his own a few minutes later. Tuck was in there for a while, longer than Sam had been at least. He practically slammed the door on Sam, even if he shouted an apology a split second later. Sam’s footsteps quieted, then got louder. She wandered over to the bed where Danny laid, and he could feel the shift when she sat down.

“D’you think he thinks he’s hiding his sudden interest in fashion?” Sam asked. A smile found its way onto Danny’s face.

“He probably thinks he’s getting away with it.”

“Yeah, probably.” The conversation petered off. Danny heard the pages of a book turning, and that explained the detour Sam had taken. She paid a visit to the bookshelf.

Danny was hit by a wave of boredom. But he didn't want to waste what precious battery life his phone had. Thus, he was left with nothing to do.

He got bored rather quickly. And by quickly, it was about five minutes later. He finally got up from the bed and decided to explore the room a bit more. If he was gonna be staying here, he might as well familiarize himself with it. In his search. Danny discovered two doors in the back corner. One led to a bathroom, much like he had expected. (Or, at least, wanted it to be. Did full ghosts have any use for a bathroom?)

The most immediate, stand-out feature was a large tub set into the floor. The floor was tile, but the walls of the tub were dark wood, maybe Mahogany? Danny only knew about that type of wood because it made his Dad’s allergies act up. And he’d learned a bit about it in shop class.

The tub was big enough that Danny could probably sit in the middle and his head would be under the water. There was a ring of benches around the semi-circle tub. The bathroom was shaped like a circle, with large windows all around. White curtains filtered the mint green light that streamed in from outside. It bathed the room in a strange hue. Opposite the door was a toilet and to the left was a series of two sinks. Hung on the wall behind each were large, ornate mirrors. There was a rack to the side that held many white and dark blue towels, all folded to perfection.

As he left the bathroom, Danny wondered idly who all had put everything together. He’d done that about a lot of things, recently. He had a lot of people to thank.

The next door was off to his left, along the end wall of the ‘L.’ It was two doors, actually. A set of doubles that were white with silver accents. When Danny reached for the handle, his hand came back covered in dust. He wiped it off on his jeans before venturing inside. Sam noticed he was up to something and followed behind.

“Wow,” Danny mused.

The room before them was long, with floor-to-ceiling windows at the end. They were covered by light curtains that seemed to drift ever-so-slightly, even though Danny couldn’t feel any wind. The walls were a soft baby-blue. Straight ahead was a marble table with plush-looking chairs set around it. A vase of flowers was atop the table, again various colors of blue. Danny wasn’t sure if any flowers in the Real World were even naturally blue, so they must be GZ flowers? He was probably wrong about that. He remembers hearing something about blue roses, once upon a time. Or was that from a video game?

“This looks like a meeting room.” Said Sam.

At the other end of the room was a grand fireplace, though for now it was without a flame. In front of it was a long, wide table. It matched the style of the smaller one but on a much grander scale. This one was also surrounded by chairs, about six on each side and one at the table’s head. There was no chair on the fireplace side.

Danny looked up and was almost disappointed. The ceiling was slightly slanted to the left and had some stylized rafters, but it wasn’t the scene of stars he’d expected. It would seem the only room with such a roof was the ball room.

“Done! Where’d you guys go?” Tucker shouted. Footsteps.

“Whoa,” He marveled as he entered the room. He looked around, absorbing the scene before him. Danny looked away from the scene to see Tucker’s outfit. It wasn’t as much of a… statement, as Sam’s, but tasteful.

His shirt was a muted orange-yellow, with darker embroidery around the collar and the edges of the short sleeves. It was quite long, just a bit shorter than a dress would need to be to maintain any kind of modesty. Maybe tunic was a more accurate word? Danny pulled back on his memories from the books he used to read in middle school. Tucker got him into Dungeons and Dragons for a short stint, and he’d read all the manuals he could find cover-to-cover.

Danny was hit with the epiphany that this kinda felt like he was in the middle of a D&D campaign, when the group gets new outfits after starting a new plotline. Hm.

Underneath the tunic Tucker had chosen an off-white shirt with big sleeves. The collar of it just barely peeked out from under that of the tunic. His pants were mostly the same as Sam’s. But in a rich brown. The pant legs were gathered below his knees, turning into something almost like leggings. He wore a pair of black flats.

And, of course, Tucker had a cape of his own. His was a medium brown, and draped off of his left shoulder. The belt which held it in place went under his right arm, around his chest. Tucker did a half-spin, watching the fabric ripple.

“Nice!” Sam shouted. She and Tucker high-fived. He grinned at the praise. Tucker abruptly turned to Danny. He almost gave himself whiplash, spinning that quick. He schooled his expression into something serious.

“Hypothetically, what would happen if you phased earrings into my ears and then let them turn tangible?” He asked, straight out of left field. It took a moment for the question to even compute.

“You… want me to pierce your ears?” Danny said to make sure he’d heard correctly. Danny didn’t care about Tucker wanting his ears pierced (honestly he’d probably rock it) he was just a bit hesitant it was just the method he proposed.

“Yeah! I thought maybe if we did it that way, it wouldn’t hurt as much.” Tucker shrugged. It seemed his earlier enthusiasm had faded.

“Honestly I’m not really sure what it’d do.” Danny offered. He typically avoided turning things tangible inside other things. But what harm could it really do?

“Let’s try it!”

#danny phantom #dp #ghost king!danny #ghostking!danny #everlasting trio #nonbinary!clockwork #clocky uses they/he pronouns <3 #invisobang 2022 #invisobang #my fic

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ila-appreciationweek · 1 year

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The Thing With Feathers

We are posting this on behalf of JCR/Departer on the ILW discord, who does not have a tumblr but who has been participating in ILAW. Art by @oh-so-youre-a-nerd.

Pairings: Connor x MC Word Count: 9499 Premise: The battle is won and the Power contained. What comes next? Takes place during and after Ch. 23 of ILW.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

- Emily Dickinson, “‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers”

- I -

The partially cured horrors with more on the loose. A failed blood moon ritual. Everest Snow merging with his human self. Lincoln McQuoid’s watch retrieved from the lake below, restoring him to life after a gruesome death. Learning the unfiltered truth about Matthias, his grisly demise, and how he became the new anchor. Discovering the full history behind Westchester’s problems and the source of the Power. Realizing that the Power was merely contained, and that Matthias-as-anchor would eventually need replacing.

None of this compared to what Demelza was asked to do in the aftermath.

Demelza received a phone call from Jocelyn’s parents the day after the carnival, asking for her help in sorting through Jocelyn’s belongings and moving everything out of her apartment after the funeral.

“Why me?” Demelza asked, still reeling from learning who was on the other line.

“We didn’t really know our daughter,” Jocelyn’s mother – Susan – admitted. “Jocelyn was never home growing up. She had been spending most of her time with you and your group of friends over the past couple of months… at least that’s what we saw whenever she updated her Pictagram.”

“I’ll do it,” Demelza said. “I’ll come over and help you and the rest of your family.” She pretended not to hear the heartbreaking sob that had escaped Susan’s lips before hanging up the phone.

Demelza’s eyes fell upon the beleaguered group, exhausted from the day’s events. Harper’s blond hair was pulled into a knot at the back of his head, and he kept his broken leg elevated on a folding chair Demelza found in the closet. He and Parker held hands at the kitchen table, and Danni, Imogene, and Tom sat with them. They each nursed a large, steaming mug of coffee. Elliot sat next to Harper with a cup of hot chocolate. Noah lay on the couch in a deep sleep recovering from using the Power earlier in the cave. Demelza and Connor’s patchwork quilt covered him, and he held Kenna, his stuffed animal moose, in the crook of his left arm. Lincoln stood over the couch and kept a protective eye on Noah while Connor sat in front of the fireplace, enraptured by the flames therein. Connor’s flaxen hair was wet and his skin dewy from a hot shower. He was wrapped in a fleece blanket the color of the sea, and bandages covered his forehead and arms from the cuts and scrapes he sustained while in the cave. He turned and gave Demelza a soft smile, and she was grateful to have him back.

Amalia sat in the chair next adjacent to the couch with her head in her hands. Her body and mind were exhausted, yet she could not sleep. Abel and Everest stood together in the corner. Abel rubbed circles on Everest’s back as his long, brown curls shielded his tear-streaked face.

Everest had emerged from the cave with Abel, Amalia, and Lincoln, with the latter’s watch hidden beneath his tightened grasp. Lincoln had stood next to Everest, his eyes haunted and bearing a new knowledge that was still too old yet impossible to name.

“The watch would only let me save one person!” Everest had cried. “I brought back Lincoln, but I couldn’t save Jocelyn!” He looked at the group and said, “I would’ve brought her back too if I could. I’m sorry.”

Everest’s face had crumpled as he slouched over and sobbed. His loud guttural cries had hit the air like lightning in reverse. Abel had put his arms around Everest and kissed the side of his head as a means of comfort.

“Don’t blame yourself, Everest,” Abel had said, his voice low, serious, and gentle all at the same time. “You’ve been our rock through this whole ordeal and have looked out for everyone else’s safety over your own. You did everything you could. You stopped the Blood Moon Ritual and put an end to Matthias’ evil deeds. You healed Connor. You saved Lincoln. You protected Noah and kept him from becoming the next anchor.” Abel had cupped Everest’s face in his hands with tenderness and said, “You can rest now.”

“I’m sorry, Demelza,” Everest had choked out. He removed his glasses and wiped his eyes before putting them back on again. “I can’t stay here. I must move on, and I hate that me doing that means you can’t. I know how much you and Connor wanted to leave Westchester after all this.”

“It’s okay, Everest,” Demelza had responded truthfully. She put a comforting hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I knew that I wouldn’t be able to leave when you told me Matthias became the new anchor. The problem’s taken care of for the next two hundred fifty years due to Matthias reaching that age here on earth.” She smiled despite everything. “That gives me and the rest of the Power Keepers time to come up with a contingency plan when that time comes, but we’re hoping it won’t. We’ll keep building our tribe and doing our research, and figure out a way to heal the Power without hurting anyone or needing another anchor again. Besides, Westchester needs a constant to see them through everything, and who can do that better than me?”

“Thank you for understanding.”

Demelza cleared her throat and brought herself back to the present. “That was Jocelyn’s mom on the phone. Her funeral is set for the end of this week. She wants me to help her go through Jocelyn’s things afterwards.”

Connor stood from his spot by the fire and let his blanket fall to the ground. He strode over to Demelza and wrapped his arms around her. He smelled of peppermint soap, pine, and campfire from sitting by the hearth. “Do you need my help?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “This is something I have to do on my own.”

- II -

Jocelyn’s funeral fell on a frigid, albeit sunny day with a cloudless blue sky. Susan, Jocelyn’s father Henry, younger sister Jasmine, and grandfather George greeted visitors at the funeral home, where Jocelyn’s service was just one of several that took place there over the past few days. A magnificent arrangement of hydrangeas, irises, lilacs, and orchids in various shades of purple covered the closed casket. Jocelyn’s former and current students shuffled in, each of them placing a handwritten card and colorful origami animal in amongst the flowers. Fellow teachers and the principal at the middle school she had worked at came, as did her track and field coach and professors at Westchester Community College. Her teammates, former high school cross country coach, and extended family were all in attendance.

Demelza even saw Cody’s mother present. She looked like her late son, but had a pinched, hollow face lined face like an old, well-used map folded several times over. Prominent crow’s feet sat on the edges of her eyes and her mouth was turned downwards, and Demelza knew it had not moved from that position in the past four years. She hugged Susan the moment she came in and the two women remained in an embrace for several long moments before the service started.

Britney slipped in moments before with shorter hair and the edges of her face sharper than they had ever been. She kept her arms folded and her gaze downward, knowing she was out of place here. Even though Britney and Jocelyn were close in middle school and high school, Jocelyn died as a stranger to her.

Demelza felt fidgety and on edge throughout the memorial. Connor kept his arm around her, serving as a calming force to her nerves. Harper, Parker, Elliot, Danni, and Imogene never had the opportunity to know Jocelyn well but came and showed their support. Tom sat with Noah, Sunny, Luis, and the rest of the witches, their expressions serious and eyes wondering what might have been. Lincoln kept his head down, suppressing his remorse and survivor’s guilt. Amalia’s dark eyes shone with unshed tears whilst Abel and Everest let theirs flow freely. Everest turned into Abel and brought him close, his shoulders heaving as he sobbed into Abel’s chest. Demelza turned away from the sight and knew Everest could not stay in Westchester, nor could she ask it of him.

She squirmed in her seat throughout the rest of the funeral. Connor put his hand on her knee as Jocelyn’s family, her old coaches, coworkers, and former students spoke about her. Demelza felt as though she was hearing about a person she didn’t truly know. She let her eyes wander during the picture slideshow Jocelyn’s sister compiled because she knew she wouldn’t recognize the person onscreen.

- III -

Everyone had kept to themselves after the funeral. Connor went to the shed to do some metal and woodworking. Noah went back into the woods, desiring to hear, commune, and find solace there again. Abel and Lincoln returned to their respective apartments for the last time, packing up their belongings and confirming the release from their contracts. Amalia got her car washed and vacuumed, and Everest deep cleaned the room he and Amalia had shared. Harper, Parker, Elliot, Danni, Imogene, and Tom had returned to Pine Springs.

Demelza thought about this as she left the café where she had helped see Abel and Everest off. Amalia and Lincoln were leaving the next day, and they didn’t plan on returning, save for the memorial Demelza had scheduled two months from now. She wanted the opportunity for herself and her friends to honor Jocelyn and everyone else lost to the Power in their own way. She got into her car, drove to Jocelyn’s old apartment complex, and mused on the walls being built amidst a tragic loss. Jocelyn had done the same after losing Cody.

Demelza knew it was up to her to keep those walls down and be the unifying force of the group – the constant – they all needed. She parked her car in the small, dingy parking lot and headed toward Jocelyn’s apartment, where the front door hung ajar. Several large garbage bags filled to the brims and knotted tightly sat outside, waiting to be taken down to the dumpster. Demelza tried not to think about all the trash inside as she stepped into the place where Jocelyn had once lived and breathed.

Henry and George cleaned the small kitchen and arranged for movers to take the old furniture and decorations to Goodwill. Meanwhile, Jasmine packed up the non-perishable food items for the local food bank and put the linens in another box. She took those boxes down to her car while Susan went through Jocelyn’s clothes. She placed each item into a “donate” or “toss” pile, but folded Jocelyn’s favorite denim jacket gently and set it aside. Demelza disinfected and cleaned the bathroom after Susan and Jasmine finished removing everything inside, then moved onto dusting, sweeping, and cleaning the sitting room.

After the movers left with the furniture and decorations, Susan and Henry brought out three boxes from her old room. Demelza gulped as George and Jasmine joined them, knowing what was ahead.

Jasmine opened the first box and pulled out a red, white, and blue plaid hybrid sweatshirt. Demelza recognized it immediately, as it had once belonged to Cody. She turned away from Jocelyn’s family and placed a hand over her mouth to keep herself from gagging. The coat still smelled like him: of Abercrombie and Fitch Oud Amour cologne, Axe antiperspirant spray, and salty sweat.

“Sorry,” Demelza coughed. “Just something I wasn’t expecting.”

“I never liked Cody,” Jasmine commented. “He was a jerk and yet Jocelyn always chose him over me.” She threw the sweatshirt on the ground in disgust.

Susan folded the sweatshirt with a frown and placed it next to Jocelyn’s denim jacket. “I wish we did more, Henry. We should’ve kept a better eye on her.”

“You didn’t know,” Demelza said. “Jocelyn was a private person. You can’t beat yourselves up over this.” She held Susan’s gaze and said, “Jocelyn was trying. She wanted to be better… but you could’ve – should’ve – loved for her who she was instead of who you wanted her to be.”

Henry turned away; he looked shameful.

“I’m sorry,” Demelza told them. Again. “I should’ve done more too.”

She spent the rest of the day helping Jocelyn’s family sort through the rest of her personal items contained in the boxes. Photographs of Jocelyn with Britney and Cody. Cross country and track team pictures. Numerous commemorative plaques, medals, and trophies from athletic competitions. Cross country and track shirts signed by her coaches and teammates. Brittle and dried flower corsages from school dances she attended with Cody that perfumed the air around them. Numerous scrapbooks Susan put together with painstaking effort documenting Jocelyn’s life. Mixed CDs with playlists Britney and Cody had curated just for her. Written notes Jocelyn had shared with Cody. A single polaroid of Jocelyn and Cody cheek-to-cheek with too wide grins and squinty eyes.

Demelza paused as she picked up an old, used copy of The Giver from inside the last box. She opened the book and gasped at the written inscription therein:

Dear Jocelyn,

Don’t lose hope. You’re getting there. You’re doing better than you think. Nothing is ever truly broken or lost unless you make it so. You can be and make the change you wish to see.

One day you’ll look back and realize how far you’ve come. I’m proud of you already.

Your friend,

-Everest

Demelza swallowed the lump that formed in her throat and wiped the tears from her eyes. Everest saw the best in Jocelyn despite knowing her past. He forgave her even after learning that she had tracked him and fed that information to Matthias. He reconciled the person Jocelyn used to be with the person she was becoming or at least wanted to be. He hated himself for not being able to save Jocelyn even though he couldn’t.

Demelza noticed a piece of paper peeking out about a hundred pages in. She opened the book to that spot and came across Jocelyn’s untidy scrawl written with a purple pen on a lined piece of paper ripped from a miniature notebook. Ink stains and smudges covered the edges but could not mask what Jocelyn had written down:

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

By: Emily Dickinson

Demelza sniffed and read the poem again.

Hope.

It was a fragile thing, light and breakable like the gossamer wings of a bird in flight. It could slip away in the night without you having ever known it was there in the first place.

Yet hope remained constant and reserved a place for itself in your soul once you kept it; always singing, withstanding the storms of life, keeping you warm in the coldest chills, remaining calm upon the unsteady seas, and never asking for anything in return.

Jocelyn had hope despite herself. Hope for her future happiness. Hope in her apologies. Hope in her newfound friendships. Hope for the chance to move forward. Hope for a world where the Power would never hurt anyone again.

This part of Jocelyn remained tethered to the earth in a way no one else could see but that would live on past the rest of them.

Henry noticed Demelza looking at the paper upon which Jocelyn had written the poem and the book from whence it came. “Do you want to take those things with you? Something of Jocelyn’s for you to keep?”

“Yes,” Demelza answered. “Thank you.”

Demelza decided she would send Everest’s book back to him. She had seen him reading it in the cabin during their downtime. Everest had said The Giver was his favorite book and that his father had often read it to him.

Demelza stood from her place on the floor and hugged each member of Jocelyn’s family before leaving the apartment for good. Demelza hauled all the trash bags to the dumpster so they wouldn’t need to. Then, she folded the piece of paper - evidence of a life once lived - and placed it inside her wallet so she would always carry Jocelyn’s memory and hope for a better world with her wherever she went.

- IV -

Connor had presented Demelza with a custom-made engagement ring after the memorial she hosted just for their core group. Demelza had accepted and smiled upon seeing it placed on her left ring finger, knowing that Connor knew her innermost parts. He knew the sinews that bound her flesh and bones together, the blood that flowed freely through her veins. He knew her fierce and mighty heart, determined soul, and how hard she fought for the people she loved.

Demelza reflected on this as she lay on the warm sands of Moorea, Tahiti four months later. She and Connor flew around the world for a much-needed, month-long respite after they caught the last horror and administered the half-baked cure Harper and Sunny had provided. It gave the victims their minds and sanity back, but left them with ashen skin, vampiric teeth, and claws sharper than that of any animal. Doctors from the best hospitals still worked with them on the aftereffects while scientists had attributed the cause to acid rain. Demelza was grateful for Connor and his true and unconditional love for her, how he had told her that they did all they could, and to put aside the what if’s and that what might have been of the situation.

She grabbed a handful of the pale gold, soft silt of sand, let it run through her fingers, and remembered the memorial hosted in her parents’ backyard. She had provided the champagne and firewood while Lincoln took time away from sorting Matthias’ affairs and giving away his millions of dollars to join them. Amalia took another road trip back to Westchester from Portland before beginning her final year at the University of Oregon. Harper, Parker, Danni, Imogene, Tom, Elliot, and his boyfriend Robbie had made the drive down from Pine Springs. Noah had grilled chicken and hamburgers for the main course and brought homemade side dishes and desserts, having rediscovered his passion for culinary arts. Demelza had known Abel and Everest wouldn’t be in attendance and understood why. She had received a note from Everest after mailing his book back to him, letting her know that he and Abel had settled in northern California and were happy with their new lives.

Demelza continued running her fingers through the sand as she watched the ocean waves break onto the shore. The surf went forward and backward like clockwork, keeping time with the rhythm of nature. The Westchester woods had gotten their groove back, but Demelza knew nature would eventually run its course and that Matthias-as-anchor would eventually need replacing to keep things in harmony. But Demelza knew she wouldn’t be alone in that task or in finding a way to heal the Power without sacrificing an innocent life.

“Hey, you,” Connor whispered in her ear. He sat down next to her, kissed her freckled shoulder and pulled her close. He fixed his grey eyes on the sea and looked calm and relaxed for the first time in years. His eyes were clear and radiant, posture no longer slouched with carrying burdens and sorrows others could not see, and his skin emitted an effervescent glow from his time spent in the Tahitian sunshine. Connor’s hair lightened from his time outside and he had gotten a much-needed trim right before they left on their vacation. His hair was still long but looked much healthier than it had before.

“Hey yourself,” Demelza said. She cupped Connor’s face in her hands and kissed him hard. He tasted like mango, coconut, and chocolate. “How was your walk?”

“It would’ve been better if you came too,” Connor answered. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, kissed Demelza’s temple, and ran his gentle hand through her hair. “We should get married when we get back. It’s time to move forward.”

Demelza nodded. “You’re right.” She leaned into Connor’s chest, and he wrapped his arms around her again. “I’m grateful we don’t have to deal with the Power by ourselves anymore. We can finally start our lives – and throw the best party of the century while doing it. We’ll have it in our backyard. Sunny, Luis, and the witches can help us decorate. Noah and his friends at culinary school can help us with the menu and taste testing. He’s only in his first semester and is itching for a project already. We’ll invite our friends, keep things small and intimate.”

“What about your parents?”

Demelza knew on a certain level she couldn’t shut her parents out of her wedding. They were the only blood family she had left, the distance having only grown wider with age. Their siblings and parents – both sets of Demelza’s grandparents – were long dead. Demelza’s mother and father had given her life just as the sun had started setting on theirs. They had started making more of an effort after what happened at the homecoming dance those years ago. But they were strangers, nonetheless.

“They can come,” she said. “They can be the family ghosts like they’ve always been.” She looked up at Connor and asked, “What about your dad?”

“I haven’t heard from him since he filed for divorce from my mom,” he said. “My dad didn’t even call after she died. He wouldn’t have cared if something had happened to me. Why would I want him to come?”

“We’re two peas in a pod,” Demelza said. “No extended family whatsoever.” She didn’t possess the heart to add that Connor didn't have any blood relatives left either. That would always hang in the air between them like smoke after a fire. Connor’s dead family – both literally and figuratively – would always linger, having seeped into every crevice imaginable even though the flames were long put out.

She trailed a finger down Connor’s taut stomach, making patterns on his six-pack and twirling the line of blond hair stretching down his stomach. “It’s partly why I want to make babies with you – lots of them.”

Connor grinned and flipped Demelza over onto her side. He undid her black bikini top, sticky from the summer heat and tossed it aside before Demelza grabbed his hand and guided it downward between her thighs. His grin grew wicked, and he said, “Let's have some fun first.”

- V -

The wedding occurred three months later beneath a wooden stick arch interwoven with freesias, garden roses, larkspur, peonies, wildflowers, and angel feather grass in every color imaginable. It stood in front of the pine trees in their backyard, and beneath the yellow, orange, pink, and purple hues of the sunset. Multicolored paper lanterns floated midair above the semicircle of gold chairs facing the archway. The air smelled of honeysuckle, rosemary, and sage.

Demelza faced Connor, their smiles wide and close to bursting. Demelza donned pearl earrings with a flower crown and lace veil that fell straight past her shoulders and nearly touched the train of her vintage wedding dress. Connor wore a new suit and black bow tie that fit him perfectly with a boutonnière that matched the flowers in Demelza’s hair and the bouquet she held in her manicured hands.

They went without bridesmaids and groomsmen due to the small, intimate nature of their wedding. Demelza’s parents sat in the center of the semicircle, and it pained her to see how old they really were. Noah came with his girlfriend Chelsea Vincenzo, a fellow culinary student from a large Italian American family that owned a pizza parlor in the next town over and had embraced him as a second son. Harper sat with Parker, Elliot, and Robbie; both couples were stronger than ever. Danni had her camera in tow and sat between Imogene and Tom. Amalia and Lincoln were there, each talking turns along with Abel in calming Everest and pulling him from the ledge. Abel had told them that they would stay for the wedding and reception but had a quick turnaround time; Demelza and Connor understood and were grateful Abel and Everest had made the sacrifice to come. Sunny and Luis stood under the archway with them as co-officiators, and the rest of the Westchester witches came and mingled with Connor’s high school friends.

A golden chair sat empty amidst the wedding guests, the very spot where Jocelyn should’ve been – alive and celebrating with them. Demelza knew the chair was also for Stacy and Mayor Green, evidence of a family forever fractured by death. She thought of Andy, Ava, Dan, Jane, Lily, and Lucas, and how their lives were cut short, their potential never realized.

Connor noticed Demelza staring at the vacant chair and squeezed her hands. “I miss them too,” he said. “But they’re here in spirit. They want us to be happy.”

“I know.”

The ceremony went smoothly. Sunny and Luis pronounced Connor and Demelza as husband and wife whilst the sunset faded into the blue-black sky above. Sunny and Luis waved their hands, sending the paper lanterns up into the air, where they burst and trailed flecks of gold and miniature translucent baubles filled with light. The full moon became visible amidst a vast display of stars and the constellations, which were visible for all to see and gave off a glowing, radiant light.

Everyone congregated to the other side of the manicured lawn, where they sat united at a long table with Queen Anne’s lace running down the center with fairy lights illuminating from the mason jars placed alongside the sprays of floral arrangements like Demelza’s bouquet. They feasted on a menu Demelza and Connor had curated with the help of Noah, Chelsea, and their classmates at culinary school: bruschetta; garlic knots; Caprese and Italian chopped salads; roasted vegetables; spinach ravioli; vegetarian lasagna; margherita, pepperoni, and prosciutto pizzas. The red wine and assorted Italian cream sodas flowed whilst a folk band played instrumental versions of Demelza and Connor’s favorite songs in the background. The chocolate wedding cake came out along with various gelato flavors, bombolini, cannoli, and cups of cappuccinos, espressos, and lattes.

The conversation never stalled and soon everyone left the table to dance. The tempo picked up the pace in time to everyone’s movements and vibrant conversation; even Demelza’s mother and father loosened up.

Demelza and Connor took turns dancing with each other, Demelza’s parents, and their friends, getting caught up on how they were. They learned of Harper’s time in medical school and him pursuing neonatology along with Parker heading a Big Brother/Big Sister program in Pine Springs; Elliot and Robbie researching colleges and apartments together; Imogene’s time in veterinary school and her volunteer work rescuing and rehoming abused animals; Tom’s graduate studies in robotics; Danni’s journalistic work being picked up by national news wires; Amalia’s law school applications and studying for the LSAT; Abel’s acceptance of a large monetary grant giving him the opportunity to explore archaeological sites in Central and South America; Everest’s time in college, following in his father’s footsteps pursuing pediatric medicine, and the help he received from Harper regarding prerequisites and the application process for medical school; and how Lincoln embraced more artistic mediums and began taking on clients.

Demelza stepped away and approached Noah, who stood off to the side with a glass of water. He smiled as Chelsea led Luis, Sunny, Elliot, Robbie, Danni, Amalia, Abel, Everest, Connor, and his high school friends in dancing the tarantella.

“Needed a break, Marshall? I did.”

“Me too,” Noah said. “Planning and successfully carrying out a reception menu is a lot of work.” He took a sip of water and grinned even wider. His honey brown eyes were glassy, with everything he felt brimming the surface, but he was present, nonetheless. “I still tire easily. But at least I can sleep this off before working the dinner shift tomorrow.”

“You were fantastic, Noah,” Demelza told him. She threw her arm around his shoulders and said, “You’ll be in demand for all sorts of events at this rate.” She watched as Chelsea continued dancing with the other guests, her long black curls bouncing with every twirl. “You work in the kitchen at the restaurant Chelsea’s family owns?”

Noah nodded. “I don’t need to. The money from the settlement the city gave me will cover me for the rest of my life. Who knew coming back from the dead, having a kidnapping cover story, a selfish mom, a dad who decided to show up out of nowhere, and the coroner botching everything for not confirming my identity with DNA four years ago could be so beneficial, right? But I like having something to do when I’m not at school. Sometimes Chelsea’s dad lets me get creative with the menu.”

Demelza noticed Noah mentioning his parents. She knew his mother had played the victim and would never acknowledge how much she had hurt her son. He had severed ties with her after realizing that she would never change. But his father had left shortly after Jane died those years ago and was never heard from again.

Until now.

"Your dad contacted you?" Demelza said. "How did that turn out?"

“He lives in Spokane and wants to reconnect, but I don't know if I want to. My dad wasn't there for me back then, so what right does he have to be in my life now?" Noah said. "I think he only got in contact with me for damage control and to make himself look good. He has another family, Demelza. Where would I fit into that?"

"You never know," Demelza responded. "I'm sure your dad has his reasons for leaving and not being around all these years. Maybe he didn't have a choice."

"It's possible," Noah said. "It wouldn't surprise me if my mom forced him to stay away after the divorce. She is the most toxic person I've ever met in my life - and that's saying a lot. It's a huge part of why I cut her off. Chelsea's parents treat me better than she ever did."

Demelza’s eyes fell on Chelsea sharing a joke with Imogene and Tom, her olive skin shining, and burgundy lips parted in a smile revealing two perfect rows of straight white teeth. "Do you think she’s the one?”

“I do,” Noah said. “I know it’s still early stages, but we’ve talked about getting married and having a family together. We’ll date longer, get through school, and get Baby Jane’s established first, though.” He paused for a moment. Tears fell from his sad eyes as his bottom lip quivered. “I wish Jane could’ve met Chelsea. She would’ve loved her.”

“Jane would be so proud of you, Noah. She wouldn’t want you to be sad. She wouldn’t want you staying stuck in the past.” Demelza hugged Noah and told him, “Keep living your best life, Marshall. You’re one of the lucky ones.”

- VI -

The dancing went past midnight. The band packed up their instruments while everyone saw Demelza and Connor off in his Camaro decorated with Just Married! bunting, balloons, flower streamers, and tin cans secured to the back. The moon was still out and the constellations still shone brightly above them.

Demelza reached for Connor’s hand in the center and interlaced her fingers with his. He smiled and squeezed her hand while he drove, the tin cans clanging against the road beneath them.

“I love you,” Connor told her. “Everything we’ve been through brought us here. It was all worth it.”

“I love you too,” Demelza replied. She kissed Connor’s hand and said, “I know you wanted to leave Westchester after everything. I feel stupid asking you this, but you’re okay with staying here?”

Connor ran his thumb over Demelza’s fingers, his hand staying clasped in hers. “You’re not stupid, Demelza. You’re the best person I know. A stupid, selfish person would’ve seen someone else’s distress and ignored it. You saw a need and answered the call. We have a home and a life in Westchester, and people helping us out with the Power. We’ll get there - and all the while, you’ll be the glue holding everyone together.”

Demelza and Connor reached a stop sign. He gave her hand another squeeze and said, “Whenever you find yourself needing a break from being the constant, come to me and I’ll take it on for a while. We have Noah, Sunny, Luis, the witches, and our friends in Pine Springs helping us too. We’re not alone in this. We’re not responsible for the world’s problems. Our children won’t be, either.”

“You always know what to tell me,” she said, thinking of the past four years they spent together: when their eyes locked on the same windy road for the first time in years; his concern upon seeing her covered in bruises and teaching her self-defense; when Connor sacrificed his own plans to help her, Stacy, and their friends after learning about the Power; the way he always put her needs ahead of his; the moments he put his life on the line for her. “You keep your word. You’re not just talk.”

“I hope not!” Connor laughed. He winked at Demelza playfully and said, “I like to think I keep my word both in and outside the bedroom.”

“Oh, stop!” Demelza exclaimed. “I know you do; and we have two weeks on the Amalfi Coast for you to have your way with me.”

They reached their destination for the next two days: a ritzy hotel with a view of the lake and mountains where they would rest before flying to Amalfi, Italy for their honeymoon. The concierge checked them in and had a valet bring their luggage to their suite. Two bottles of chilled rosé in an ice bucket with accompanying champagne glasses, a large pot of hot chamomile tea on a warmer with cream, sugar, and two teacups, a tray of various finger sandwiches, a charcuterie board, and a platter of chocolate covered strawberries with a large bouquet of yellow roses on the entry room table greeted them as they walked in.

Demelza looked at everything therein and said, “I’m stuffed. Who on earth thinks we still have room in our stomachs for all this?”

Connor held up an envelope with their names on it. “I think we both know the answer to that question.”

He opened the envelope, took out a vintage greeting card decorated with artwork of a bride and groom riding off in an old school Rolls Royce, and read:

Dear Connor and Demelza,

Congratulations on the wedding! We figured you’d enjoy these post-coital snacks.

Noah and Everest wanted to bake you a “Congrats on the wedding sex!” cake, but we (Abel and Amalia - the greatest people you’ll ever know) put our feet down. You’re welcome for us insisting on something classy. That, and we know more than enough about what you do behind closed doors.

Enjoy your honeymoon and please don’t scar the other guests the way you did us.

Love,

-Amalia, Abel, Everest, and Noah

Demelza and Connor looked at each other before falling over on top of each other in a fit of laughter.

“Oh God,” Demelza said. She pinched the bridge of her nose and lay her head atop Connor’s chest. “You don’t think Noah picked up on anything or saw us going at it when he was a ghost, do you?”

“He hasn’t said anything about it,” Connor said. “Maybe he’s blocked out the memory.” He ran a finger across Demelza’s cheekbone. “You’re beautiful.”

“You’re handsome.” Demelza reached up with her hand and began undoing Connor’s bow tie and unbuttoning his shirt. She had a lot of practice. “You want to take this to the bedroom?”

Connor nodded, grabbed her hand, and pulled her up along with him. He held her in his arms and carried her bridal style into the bedroom, where they looked forward to the rest of their lives and the future awaiting them on the horizon.

- VII -

“This was not how I imagined us spending our first wedding anniversary,” Demelza grunted. She arched her back and groaned as hot sweat seeped into her hair and hospital gown, and accumulated at her forehead before falling down her face, neck, and the rest of her body.

“You're doing great, sweetheart,” Connor soothed. He held a bowl of cold water and dipped a washcloth inside before using it to wipe Demelza’s face and neck clean. He set the bowl and washcloth down on the end table, grabbed her hand in his, and placed his other hand softly on her head. "You got this. The doctor said it won't be long now."

"That - was - forever - ago," Demelza panted. A rough contraction rippled through her body, and she cried out in pain as Connor squeezed her hand and held her close.

“Breathe through it, sweetheart,” he encouraged her. “You can do it.” He hit the call button as his eyes locked with Demelza’s, both of them realizing that their lives would soon change forever.

The pregnancy hadn’t shocked Connor and Demelza, but they weren’t expecting it either. Children were always in the cards and Demelza and Connor had an active sex life, but she was always consistent and up to date with her birth control. She had also just resumed college and wanted to wait a few years. Demelza had never considered that she was pregnant until she and Connor attended the All Hallows Eve party hosted by Sunny, Luis, and the rest of the Westchester witches. Sunny didn’t greet her and Connor as “the lovers” or “the soulmates” as they usually did, but rather as “the family.”

Demelza had made an appointment the next day and Connor came with her. He told her she could terminate if she wanted and that they could wait longer before having children. Demelza had considered it, but her gaze locked on the ultrasound screen and she saw a miniature Connor with his floppy halcyon hair and her brown eyes running happily through a meadow on a cloudless day. She couldn’t let the image in her mind go or do away with what the two of them had made together after seeing that.

Demelza’s mother and father were thrilled at the news. She had mixed feelings about it. The knowledge that they would be better grandparents to her child than they were as parents to her felt like an unhealed wound. But Demelza knew she couldn’t deprive her child the experience of knowing his grandparents; nor could she ignore their endeavors to be better and the improvements they had made, especially when Connor didn’t have any family left.

Amalia, Abel, Everest, and Lincoln weren’t surprised when Connor and Demelza had told them she was pregnant during their monthly FaceTime chat.

“The two of you were always going at it in the cabin,” Amalia had reasoned. “I can never look at or into kitchen pantries the same way again.”

“You were always so loud,” Everest had said. “I had to listen to the Relaxing Whale Sounds album on Spotify with the volume on full blast just to block you out and get myself to sleep at night.” This earned him laughter from the group and a hard, albeit affectionate slap on the shoulder from Abel.

Demelza and Connor had blushed as Abel said, “Now he can’t sleep without listening to it for at least an hour beforehand.” He grinned widely and added, “We’re excited for you! I’ll send you all the parenting books I have and help get the little one’s library started.”

Lincoln had chuckled and said, “You both were always so obvious. You’ll be amazing parents, though. I’ll block off a few days to get the nursery painted and add on any artistic touches you want.”

Noah and Chelsea, Harper and Parker, Elliot and Robbie, Danni, Imogene, and Tom had responded with enthusiasm. They got together with Sunny, Luis, the witches, Demelza’s parents, and Connor’s high school friends and threw a lakeside baby shower for her and Connor a month before her due date. Noah and Chelsea had planned the menu again with fresh fruit cups, Greek salad, saffron rice, fresh hummus and bean dips with homemade pita bread, Mediterranean chicken kabobs, falafel pitas, baklava, lemon cake, and non-caffeinated sweet iced tea.

Amalia and Lincoln also celebrated with them. He had flown in from Las Vegas on the same day she drove down from Portland on her way to California before starting law school at Stanford University. She had sorted through all the gifts, clothes, and supplies Demelza and Connor had received, and organized the parenting guides, children’s books, and presents Abel and Everest sent over. Abel was busy preparing for his first big archaeological dig in the Patagonian region and Everest was occupied with summer classes, but they had sent their love. Lincoln had painted the nursery, and helped Connor and Noah with moving and arranging the baby furniture Connor had built.

Everything was ready yet Demelza felt far away from it all. The doctor and three nurses came in and began preparing for the delivery, and she found herself wanting to turn back time.

“Connor, I’m scared,” she admitted amidst the flurry of nurses getting her into position. “This happened so fast. What if I’m bad at this parenting thing? What if I end up hurting him?”

“Demelza, look at me,” Connor told her. He pressed his forehead to hers and said, “You’re an amazing mom and you'll keep getting better with time. You being worried about messing things up when our son isn’t even here yet shows how much you love him already.” He kissed her on both cheeks, laced his fingers with hers, and said, “I’m right here with you. I’m not going anywhere.”

The doctor looked up from the foot of the bed and said, “Someone’s ready to make his debut. We can have him out with five pushes if you’ll bear down in three, two, one…”

Demelza pushed, and felt her hand tighten in Connor’s grasp. She accidentally bit her tongue and tasted blood while the coppery scent wafted past her nostrils and made her feel lightheaded. Connor squeezed her hand harder, which brought her back into focus.

Demelza pushed a second time and sensed more people entering the room; but when she looked, it was just Connor, the doctor, and nurses until a familiar voice like honey on the rock pierced the air.

“This kid is going to be so lucky growing up knowing from the beginning that it’s okay to be different; and with you taking him to see Sunny, Luis, and the rest of the witch coven all the time.”

Ava. She smiled and had a casual, edgy elegance about her even in death that Demelza could never hope to achieve in life. She said, “Have Luis teach the kid how to make fire with his fingertips. That’ll come in handy when he gets older.”

“That is completely irresponsible, Ava.”

Lucas. He gave Ava a long, serious look like a professor reprimanding an irresponsible student before turning to Demelza. Ava rolled her eyes but grinned at him and Demelza before taking off. Lucas relaxed his stare as a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth and traveled upward before meeting his eyes.

“Demelza, please teach your child the proper fire safety protocols and how to use a fire extinguisher,” he advised. “The last thing Westchester needs after the past few years are roaring fires everywhere. Really though, your child is so lucky to have you as his mother.”

Dan came into view next. His countenance was a light upon Demelza and she felt his grin illuminate the space around her. “Your son is already loved by so many people he has yet to meet. I know you won’t let him forget that.”

“Of course she won’t.”

Andy. He stood tall and was at peace with himself. “Demelza, you’re going to love and accept your child for who they are, just like you did with me.”

“And me.”

Lily. She looked calm and content with herself and her surroundings and possessed a security about herself she never had before. “You always looked out for me and anyone who needed it. You still do. I know your son will follow in your footsteps and do the same.”

Demelza pushed for the third time and locked eyes with Stacy. She was radiant and full of confidence. “Keep going! You’re almost there!” she exclaimed. “I’ll always be looking after my nephew even when you can’t see me. Make sure he knows how much his Aunt Stacy loves him, okay?”

Demelza nodded as the doctor said, “I see the baby’s head.” She looked up, turned her attention towards Connor, and added, “He takes after his dad with all that blond hair.”

Connor let a joyous laugh escape from his lips and looked at Demelza with tears brimming the surface of his eyelashes. “Did you hear that, sweetheart? Our son has the same hair as me!”

“I knew he would,” Demelza wheezed. She leaned back and recentered her focus as Connor released his grip on her and wiped the sweat off her face and neck again. He kissed her forehead and gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze before taking hold of her hand once more.

The doctor looked at Demelza and said, “We should be able to have him out with two more pushes. Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Demelza leaned into herself, and felt her body contort into something she didn’t know as she pushed for the fourth time. “I'm tired,” she whispered to herself. "I don't think I can do this anymore.”

“Yes, you can.”

Jane.

Demelza still never fully captured what Jane had looked and sounded like in the void, or fully grasped who she would’ve been, had she not died. Yet Jane stood next to her with a commanding presence, unwavering gaze, long auburn waves, and the same pale brown eyes as her twin brother that she knew so well.

“Keep your eye on the horizon,” Jane said. “Just like you did when you looked inside yourself and saved Noah. Just like you will when your son grows up and needs help navigating the path ahead.” She paused, as though listening for something at the door. “I need to go. You have one more visitor.”

“Wait! Please don’t leave!” Demelza whimpered. “I just got you back.” She felt Jane’s presence diminish as her body took control of each extremity and bent them into something unrecognizable. She sensed someone new standing next to her and moaned. “Please… help me… whoever you are.”

A familiar, deadpan voice surrounded her. “You know, whenever I found myself feeling tired during cross country or track practice, my coach would always tell me to push through it; just like you’re doing now.”

Demelza blinked and found herself facing Jocelyn. Her left eye was restored, and her face no longer bore the deep, dark gashes from Power-controlled monsters. Jocelyn looked older and more mature, like she had fully grown into her facial features. She wore her long brown hair pulled back with a tortoise shell clip, which emphasized her angular bone structure and the distinctive contours of her face. Demelza never realized how striking Jocelyn truly was; then again, she had never bothered to look, let alone see.

“You’ve been hearing that a lot though,” Jocelyn said. “You’re probably sick of it. My coach would also tell me to pick my knees up so I could run faster and get to the finish line quicker; but I don’t think you can do that right now.” She gave Demelza a sharp look and said, “I don’t know what you’re freaking out about. Nobody’s ever really ready to become a parent, you know? Those parenting books from Indiana Jones can only help so much. It’s all about what you do or don’t do, and honestly? You and Breakfast Club already love the hell out of your kid. Everyone’s just frothing at the mouth to make you both Parents of the Year.”

“Gee, thanks,” Demelza grumbled sarcastically. “What’s your point?”

Jocelyn stared at her and said, “Just do it! Like the Nike commercials! They told me to buy their running shoes, so I did.”

“Oh, Jocelyn.”

“You know what I mean!” she snapped. “When it’s your kid, you just have to dive right in and accept the good, bad, and ugly of everything! It’s not about making yourself look good to other people or molding your kid in your image, it’s about letting him be his own person and loving him regardless!”

She hesitated for a moment and added, “I think you and Connor will be good parents, Demelza. I know you’ll both love your kid no matter what… you won’t force him to be someone he’s not… the way my parents did to me. But I’m grateful you helped them get closure. Thanks for doing that.”

“You’re welcome, Joss.” Demelza coughed and felt an intense pain course through her. She knew it was time for that fifth and final push.

Jocelyn noticed the change in Demelza and said, “I’ll help see you through this last stretch. Do what the doctor tells you.”

She nodded and pushed at the doctor’s instruction. She felt Jocelyn leave just as her son slid through one limb at a time and finally entered the world.

“He’s here!” the doctor said, exhilarated. She held him up for Demelza and Connor to see. “The time of birth is 3:49 in the afternoon!”

Connor threw his arms around Demelza as their son cried in the background, making his presence known. “You did it, sweetheart! You were wonderful!” He kissed Demelza, set her gently back against the bed, and tucked her hair back. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Demelza said, placing a hand on Connor’s cheek. “I couldn’t have done this without you.” Her eyes found the station in the back, where two of the nurses cleaned the baby, took his measurements, and checked his vitals. She saw his head full of blond hair and noticed he had long arms and legs, big feet, and large hands for a newborn. “Go check on him,” she told Connor.

Connor nodded and gave her another kiss before taking off. She lay still and took deep breaths in through her nose and out through mouth as the doctor cleaned her up. The third nurse switched out her pillow, lowered the front of her hospital gown, and wiped her hair and skin down with fresh water before cleaning the foot of the bed.

Demelza watched while Connor cut the umbilical cord with jittery hands. His eyes were luminous and smile so wide she thought his face would split in half. Then the nurses wrapped the baby in a soft blue blanket and placed him in Connor’s arms. His expression changed to one of awe and reverence as he held his son for the first time.

Demelza knew Connor became a new person at that moment. A whole new level of healing was underway. The cracks engraved deep inside Connor would never disappear or restore what was lost. But the baby filled those crevices with gold and brought back a sense of peace Connor had spent years yearning for.

Demelza’s eyes met Connor’s as he walked over and placed the baby directly on her chest. His skin met hers as she put her hands on his back, inhaling his sweet newborn scent. She felt the gold flow through her veins and noticed how weightless her son felt upon her.

“Hi,” Demelza said. “I’m your mom. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

He made eye contact with Demelza and yawned before burrowing into her. He fell asleep with one hand resting on her shoulder and the other one next to her collarbone.

Connor wrapped his arms around both her and their son. He kissed her on the side of her head and said, “The nurses told me our son will be big and tall when he grows up. I can’t wrap my brain around that. It was the strangest thing. I held him and felt as though I was holding a bag of feathers.”

Demelza thought of the poem Jocelyn had written down on notebook paper and once used as a bookmark. It still sat in Demelza’s wallet and the memory of finding it felt as though it had happened a lifetime ago.

Now it manifested in the part of her soul that lived and breathed outside her body and kept her warm all the same.

Hope.

- VIII -

Demelza and Connor found themselves in their own hospital room a few hours later. She felt refreshed from showering and wore a long and loose nursing top, a pair of Connor’s well-worn plaid pajama pants, and fuzzy red socks. She held their son and laid against Connor on the hospital bed with the clean, crisp sheets, comforter, and pillows he insisted on bringing from home. Connor had also showered and changed into sweatpants, an old Portland Trail Blazers shirt, and socks that matched Demelza’s. He reached over and stroked their son’s forehead, nose, and both cheeks with a gentle finger before letting him take hold of it in his newborn grasp.

“He has your eyes,” Connor said. “It’s hard to tell right now, but I can’t wait to see you in them when he’s older.”

“He looks like you,” Demelza said. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.” She smiled at the baby and said, “We love you, little guy. We’re so excited to be your mom and dad.”

“The little guy needs a name. We can’t keep calling him that for the rest of his life and the hospital won’t discharge us until we fill out the birth certificate.”

Demelza nodded and thought of the world her son was just born into. It contained pockets of natural beauty, histories older than time itself, hidden discoveries, and untold stories. Yet the world had withstood endless abuse, witnessed countless evils, and wasn’t immune from corruption or those who would use the gifts bestowed upon them to hurt others.

Her son didn’t come into a world where he would have to worry about the Power hurting those he loved the way she and Connor once did.

Rather, he came into one that possessed a fragile, delicate hope, yet offered a new way forward whilst still carrying the wisdom of the past.

Demelza thought of those who had passed on, and how they returned to lift her up and provide her with the strength she needed to deliver him.

She knew what the perfect name would be.

“How about Atlas?” Demelza suggested. “It’s a book of maps that holds the past, present, the way ahead, and hope for the future.” Her gaze turned from her son, to Connor, and back again. “Atlas Connor Green. His middle name will be for you.”

Connor smiled before releasing his finger from Atlas’ grip and retrieving his phone from the end table. He spent a few minutes scrolling and turned the screen towards her. He had pulled up a baby names website that listed the meaning and origin of their son’s new name: bearer of the heavens, from Greek mythology.

“It’s perfect,” Connor said. He set his phone down and ran a soft hand through Atlas’ hair. A far off, wistful look came over his face. “Atlas came into this world with heaven at his back. They were all there - my sister, Jocelyn, everyone we’ve lost - they all came together to bring him here to us.”

“I know,” Demelza said. “I’ll never forget them; and we’ll make sure Atlas knows them too.”

Connor bent down and kissed Atlas atop his head before resting his lips on Demelza’s. “Happy anniversary sweetheart,” he told her. “I have so many reasons why I’ll never forget this day.”

“Happy anniversary, love,” Demelza replied. She smiled down upon their new son.

“Happy birthday, Atlas. Welcome to the world, to this place with feathers.”

#ilaw #connor x mc #ilitw #it lives in the woods #connor green #it lives within #ilw

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