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halfagone · 1 year

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I love me a good Damian losses his shit over his supposed dead tvin being alive because he actually missed him. Do you have any ideas?

Hmm *strokes nonexistent goatee* Now this one is tricky. A big thing for me is that if Danny and Damian are twins and get separated, then the logic for why they never tried to look for each other just has to make sense you know? But since he thinks Danny died...

How about this: Since Damian and Dányál (sorry, I like this spelling better) are twins, the decision on who takes up the position as heir will be made after an adequate amount of training and time. neither would be treated with more favor than the other, so that they can probably prove who deserves the position more. Or at least, that's how it was supposed to go.

In reality, Dányál hadn't been interested in the combat and physical training. He did as he was told, and he excelled, but it was clear to everyone that he was simply not putting it all into his tutelage. But then, when Damian and Dányál started being taught poisons and toxic flowers and plants and disease and chemicals, that is where he began to flourish. He took to it like a flower to the sun, and there was no denying his skill in the area. Damian did well, of course, but where Damian thrived in physical combat Dányál thrived in a scientific setting.

At first, this had been treated as something of a dirty secret. Or perhaps more accurately, a weakness on Dányál's part. Many believed that Ra's would not take kindly to his grandson straying aware from his core teachings for something not nearly as important in the bigger picture.

But then one day, the Demon's Head himself spies one of his young grandsons tucked away in the greenhouse, scribbling away on a snatched piece of paper about the acidity of different types of herbs and how they could potentially negatively interact with other plants. The details are rudimentary really, and Ra's has certainly thought of many of the same possibilities but has found through experimentation that it is simply not possible. But he is young still, and obviously he does have the mind for it, even if he is not yet a master of the trade.

He does not have any need for two heirs, but he does have need for an intelligent, loyal scientist.

So he drags this grandson of his in front of an audience, proclaiming to everyone present that Dányál's 'behavior' needs to be rewarded. He is to be sent elsewhere to be taught properly. For everyone in the room, they believe it is Ra's' underhanded way of saying Dányál is to be killed for straying from his path.

Talia believes this. Worst of all, Damian believes this too.

Ra's does not inform his daughter of his plans. He knows that she is soft towards her children, and would rather whisk this one away if it means she might be able to save them both. He has no plans on killing Dányál of course, but perhaps he could use this as a learning opportunity for his daughter and other grandson.

Dányál is informed of nothing. All he knows is that one minute he had been hiding away in the greenhouse and then the next Grandfather had ripped his papers out of his hands.

He thinks he is about to die, and all he can do is try not to cry as he stares over at his equally terrified brother.

He is sent to Fenton Works, in an odd little city called Amity Park, Illinois. The couple who runs the operation finds themselves suddenly in charge of a young boy named Dányál, who is to be taught everything they know. The Fenton's had run low on funding, and when a mysterious donor had reached out, they had been too ecstatic to think things through properly. They now find themselves indebted to a very powerful man, with a young girl of their own to think about.

When they hear their donor is visiting, they are understandably frightened. But then he brings a young boy with him, who they quickly learn is his grandson, and should be treated with the dignity and respect he deserves because of that fact. He tells them to train him, teach him everything they know, and logically they know Ra's wants them to teach this boy everything so that he can be rid of them. They are replacable, disposable.

This should scare them even more, make them loathe the boy for the burden and fear he now brings with him. But then they look at the terrified expression on that little boy's face, and they realize it a noose just as much as it is a chance to rescue him.

They manage to make compromises. Dányál, now known legally as Daniel, has to be enrolled in school, so as to not bring CPS or the government bearing down on their heads. They might need him to help gather supplies, and he can't do that if he doesn't legally exist. Ra's cares very little in the nitty-gritty details, but he is rather pointed in his demands. They are to keep an eye on him and report back to him about his behavior and progress regularly.

They are sure Ra's demands Daniel to do the same, report back about them and if they are keeping up to Ra's' commands. But that does not stop them from feeding him well, treating him as if he was their own. They bring him down to the lab often, teach him all that they know without regret, and watch as he slowly but surely opens up to them.

They learn a great many things about each other, and without ever discussing, they are careful not to mention any of this in their respective reports. Jazz takes to her unexpected baby brother with the same kind of zeal she takes to her school work, and Daniel- who quickly becomes the endearing 'Danny'- adores her even when the memories she brings with her stab him through the heart.

He misses his brother. But he is at least relieved in the knowledge that one day they might meet again.

At 14, Danny dies. His history with the LoA changes nothing and everything surrounding this fact. When he starts to show odd behavior, the Fenton parents begin to worry, wondering what they should do. They try not to bring up any of this in their reports, and simply hope that Danny doesn't either.

The very first time Danny misses a monthly report to his Grandfather is also the very same month his parents take him and Jazz to visit Gotham to take some samples on the swamp dwelling there.

He doesn't realize there is someone else living there, missing him just as fiercely and hoping they can meet again.

---

When Damian finds Dányál again, sees him alive and well after far too many years apart, he is at first euphoric. His twin brother is alive, after all. Why wouldn't he be happy?

But then he founds out his brother is not out from under the thumb of their grandfather like he'd first assumed. Not only is Danny still technically working for the League, he is also aiding them in some of their ventures with his joint research with the Fenton's.

Damian attempts to physically stop his brother, hoping to take him in and back to the Cave for further interrogation. But Danny can't trust Damian either now. He has no love for the League, not after a taste of freedom, however small it might have been. Damian has no way of ensuring his adopted family's safety, and honestly has shown no interest in helping them escape the League's clutches as well.

When Damian pushes, Danny shoves back. Hard.

They might have managed to escape their destined battle the first time, but there is no escaping it a second time.

#halfagone replies #dpxdc #dpxdc au #dpxdc prompt #damian and danny are twins #i wasn't sure if you wanted an example conversation for them #or a whole fic idea #so here's a whole fic concept #i'll try to get you an example showdown/argument #when the inspo strikes #hope you enjoy this anyways

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bethanythebogwitch · 5 months

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Wet Beast Wednesday: invasive carp

I've mentioned on a few posts that in a previous job I helped remove invasive carp from the Mississippi river and drainage. For this Wet Beast Wednesday I'll discuss the three species that I personally helped remove: the silver carp, bighead carp, and grass carp. The common carp (Cyprinus carpio) and block carp (Mylopharyngodon piceus) are also invasive in North America, but I didn't remove either of those: the black carp because they haven't made it as far north as the area I worked and the common carp because the state governments where we worked considered them commercially important species. All the invasive species collectively described in America as invasive carp or Asian carp are large fish from the family Cyprinidae who are native to east Asia. They have been introduced to areas far beyond their native range for use in aquaculture and for food. Carp aquaculture in China goes back over a thousand years and the three species plus the black carp are known as the "four domesticated fish" for their importance in food and traditional medicine. The carp were introduced to America to clean aquacultural and decorative ponds and quickly escaped into the river system. They are now highly invasive throughout the Mississippi river basin and have also spread into other river systems, including the Illinois and Ohio rivers. All the introduced carp species are considered highly invasive due to outcompeting native species, lacing predators as adults, and their hardiness allowing them to thrive in harsh conditions.

This picture isn't informative at all, I just thought it was funny (image: a close-up of the head of a silver carp, showing its eye and large, open mouth)

Silver carp (Hypophthalmichthys molitrix) made up the majority of the carp I caught. In their native range (from Vietnam to eastern Siberia), silver carp are actually considered threatened due to overfishing and habitat loss. Outside of their native range, they have become highly invasive in multiple parts of the world. Silver carp notable for their large head and silvery scales, which become brighter in healthier fish. They reach an average of 60-100 cm (24-39 in) and 9 kg (20 lbs), but can reach a maximum size of 140 cm (55 in/4.6 ft) and 50 kg (110 lbs). They are filter-feeders, primarily dining on phytoplankton but also eating zooplankton and organic particles. To catch food, they use specialized gill rakers that have fused together into a spongy surface and is coated with mucus that traps particles. As with all Cyprinids, silver carp lack stomachs, instead having their intestines attaching directly to the esophagus. Lacking a stomach makes the fish less efficient in their digestion and they feed near constantly. Silver carp were introduced to America to clean blue-green algae from ponds, aquaculture facilities, and water treatment plants. They consume so much plankton that they can outcompete local species, such as freshwater mussels, paddlefish, buffalo, and shad, as well as larval fish of most species.

(image: a silver carp being held by a person (offscreen). The fish is seen from the side. It is a large fish with a silver color. Its head is relatively large and has no scales. The eye is unusually low on the head)

Silver carp migrate upriver to broadcast spawn, with their eggs and larvae being washed downstream where they grow in shallow waters like floodplains. Silver carp trapped in places without flowing water will not spawn, instead reabsorbing their gametes. Males have rough skin on the front of their pectoral fins, which they will scrape against the bellies of female to induce them to release their eggs. Females that have spawned at least once often have scars on their bellies that can be used to identify that they have reproduced. Silver carp reach sexual maturity between ages 4 to 6 and can live up to 20 years.

I believe I can fly! (image: a silver carp in profile midway through a jump out of the water)

Silver carp are famous for leaping out of the water when startled. They can reach up to 3 m (10 ft) out of the water, though larger individuals are less likely to jump. The sound of boat engines can easily spook the carp into jumping and there are many videos out there of boats moving through rivers surrounded with dozens to hundreds of jumping carp. The jumping behavior combined with the sheer size of the fish makes them a hazard to boaters, as colliding with a carp can damage boats and cause serious injury. Interestingly, carp in their native range are much less likely to jump than those in North America. The reason for this in unknown though it could be because carp in America live in much higher population densities than those at home. It is also possible that the carp first introduced to America happened to have a trait making them more likely to jump and this trait has been passed down to most modern carp.

(image: a small boat with three people on it. In the foreground, dozens of silver carp are jumping out of the water, causing the water to become frothy)

(gif description: a man is sitting on a running boat. A silver carp jumps in from the right side of the frame and hits him in the face, knocking his baseball cap off)

The bighead carp (Hypophthalmichthys nobilis) is closely related to the silver carp, enough so that they can hybridize to make fertile offspring. Bighead carp have darker scales and larger heads, but what really makes them stand out is their size. They reach an average of 60-100 cm (2-3 ft) and 18 kg (40 lbs) but can reach a maximum of 160 cm (5.2 ft) and 50 kg (110 lbs). They fill a similar ecological nice to silver carp, both species being filter feeders with specialized gill rakers used to filter out plankton. Bighead carp prefer zooplankton in contrast to silver carp targeting phytoplankton. They are highly valuable in aquaculture as they grow quickly, allowing for a lot of meat to be developed relatively quickly. Like silver carp, they swim up river to spawn and reach sexual maturity between 2 and 3 years. They can live up to 16 years. Bighead carp will also jump, but are less likely to do so, especially once they mature, and are therefore less notorious than silver carp.

(image: two bighead carp underwater, one closer and to the bottom right and one farther away at the top left. They are very similar in appearance to the silver carp, but have larger heads and darker scales, making them look brown. The closer fish has its mouth open)

Grass carp (Ctenopharyngodon idella) were the species I caught the least. They can be distinguished from the other two with their long, skinny, and round bodies, larger sales, and green coloration. Unlike the other two, grass carp are herbivores with teeth that feed on aquatic vegetation, though they also consume detritus and invertebrates in smaller amounts. Grass carp can eat up to a few times their weight in food a day. Grass carp can destroy whole patches of aquatic vegetation, which removes food sources for other animal, removes refuges for fish and other animals to hide, and can drastically alter the trophic web of local areas. They live in still ponds or rivers with slow currents, but move into fast-flowing rivers and swim upstream to spawn. They can reach between 60 and 100 cm (23.5 - 39.5 in) on average, but can get up to 2 m (6.6 ft) and 45 kg (100 lbs). Grass carp were first introduced to America to act as weed control in ponds before escaping into the wild. It is still possible to import grass carp for weed control, which is astonishing to me since thats how we got into this mess in the first place. Grass carp are highly valuable in fisheries and are used as a food source throughout their native range. They are the most farmed fish by biomass, with over 5 million tonnes of grass carp produced in fisheries every year. The second most farmed fish is the silver carp.

(image: a grass carp underwater. Its body is slender and torpedo-shaped, with large, distinct, green scales. Its head is scaleless and its eye is level with its mouth. A second fish is peeking into frame at the bottom right)

One of the problems with controlling carp in America is the lack of a market for them. They are not commonly eaten in America despite being a major food source in China and other parts of east Asia. This is in part because of the association the phrase "Asian carp" has with the common carp, which was introduced to North America before the other species and is generally considered to have poor-quality meat. Because there is no market for invasive carp, fishermen do not bother removing them from the rivers and many do not bother taking the time to kill the ones they do catch. A few conservation efforts are attempting to make a market for the carp so that fishermen will take them. When I was at my last job, we gave the carp we caught to someone who used them for fertilizer and bait. A current effort by the Illinois Department of Natural Resources and the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency is to rebrand the carp as Copi (from copious) in an attempt to get around the stigma that carp tastes bad and get Americans to start eating them. Copi is currently being sold in or distributed to multiple states and DC. The project has already exceeded the expected amount of fish removed in weight for the first year. Other rebrand attempts include Silverfin, the perfect catche, and (my personal favorite) Kentucky tuna. This rebranding is part of a major push to try to keep the carp out of the Great Lakes, though grass carp have already gotten into Lake Erie. If you can't beat them, eat them.

Image: the copi logo. It is the word "copi" written in a dark blue, blocky, minimalistic font. The letter O is replaced by a simplistic drawing of a light blue fish, whose tail forms the curve in the letter C)

#wet beast wednesday #asian carp #carp #silver carp #bighead carp #grass carp #invasive carp #invasive species #fish #fishblr #fishposting #conservation #freshwater biology #freshwater fish #freshwater ecology #biology #zoology #ecology #animal facts

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stealingyourbones · 1 year

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DP/DC WEEK DAY FIVE

Prompts for November 18th. @avaritia-apotheosis

My Masterlist of DP/DC Prompts.

A Royal Problem:

All magic users could sense that something was very very wrong. No one was sure of what exactly but they knew that extremely powerful magic scales of power were shifting and they were shifting fast. Smashcut to Danny. Have you ever suddenly gone from a relatively powerful hero to a being to the power of a god within a day? You probably haven’t but let it be known that it is anything BUT pleasant.

(Danny, Jazz, or Danielle) have a slight issue. Their significant other has been slowly forming a core ever since they started dating. Asking Frostbite, it’s because of a very powerful and ancient spell that assures the Ruler of the Infinite Realms (and their heirs) to have their chosen lover for the rest of the afterlife. They need to discuss this with their significant other because they did NOT sign up for this.

Someone’s bound to notice all the weird things in Amity:

Oliver Queen heads to Amity to make a deal with VladCo. He’s truly baffled why the JL hasn’t been informed of this town. Genuinely. How the fuck does this place not get constant press coverage? Strangest yet, Why does literally no one believe that he ever went to the town in the first place, much less his stories of strange shit that happened during his stay? Why does no one even acknowledge that the town even exists?! What is happening?!

Amity Park has been considered a deadzone for decades. A subsidiary of Manhattan Project branch Chicago Pile-1 had been located in Amity Park, Illinois. Its main research was to test the substance known as Ectoranium. After The Amity Reactor Incident in 1947, The town was considered a Nuclear Exclusion Zone. Finally in the year 2022, the town was finally declared safe to enter with protective gear. Sure, they expected a ghost town, but not a literal one. Somehow, against any and all predictions, the Town of Amity Park was still alive. Every single resident that was present in Amity on the day of the incident was still living and thriving. Each resident hasn’t aged a day since the reactor core went off. Somehow -there is a lot of somehow’s. Just as much if not more than the Who, What, Where’s and Why’s.- Somehow, the town managed to progress with the rest of society until 2003. After that point modern technology, fashion, everything. It all just... stopped. The town acted like something out of a cheesy tv show. Not a single resident had more than surface level amounts of personality. All besides four teenagers. The anomalies names are the following: Jasmine “Jazz” Fenton, Daniel Willian “Danny” Fenton, Samantha “Sam” Manson, and Tucker Foley. These four teenagers are seemingly the only “real” people in this entire town. They are the only people to have been affected mentally by these Ectoranium entity attacks. These children all show signs of severe mental trauma. Further testing and evaluations by a Psychologist is needed for an in depth examination. Possible causation of the four anomalies: All were present in the Fenton household on the day the Infinite Realm Portal was activated.

Jason goes to Amity and keeps hearing a voice that isn’t his own in his head. The things it says keep getting stranger. From informing him of the fastest and best route to avoid a ghost attack, to informing him of the best place to eat in town without ever being in the area, to encouraging Jason to check out the Fenton household. At first he doesn’t notice it. But after a few instances he can tell that something is speaking to him. Trying to communicate with him. The voice, Amity Park, wishes to protect the young halfa as it reminds them of their young protector.

A Royal Problem & Someone’s bound to notice all the weird things in Amity:

JL goes to Amity from a JL emergency call that they had absolutely no idea who the source of the call was. The caller talks like they’re acquaintances. After talking to their caller in Amity they figure out that they DO know each other… The League just Doesn’t Remember. Apparently Amity makes sure that no possible threat befalls Its Protector and wipes the minds of any outsider that leaves its borders. (Sentient Amity AU)

#FUCK I FORGOT YESTERDAY AND I HAD IT ALL WRITTEN OUT YALL GET AN EXTRA PROMPT AS A SORRY #danny phantom #dp x dc #dc comics #writing prompts #dpxdc #DP/DC WEEK 2022 #dp/dc

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1americanconservative · 6 months

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Billionaire Jeff Bezos is leaving Seattle and moving into a $79 million mansion in Miami, but he’s not the only one.

The wealthiest man in Illinois Ken Griffin moved to Miami last year.

Hedge fund tycoons Dan Loeb & Josh Harris recently bought mansions in Miami.

And private equity firm owner Orlando Brava moved to Miami.

The trend? They all left failing blue states to move to Florida, a solid red state with no income tax and a thriving economy.

The People want Freedom

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oliviarosaline · 1 month

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Missouri Coneflower

Rudbeckia missouriensis

This species is endemic to the Ozarks of Missouri and Arkansas, where it usually grows in limestone and dolomite glades. There's also a few scattered populations in Texas, Oklahoma, Illinois, and Louisiana. It thrives in full sun and dry, well-drained soil.

Sept. 27th, 2023

De Soto, Jefferson County, Missouri, USA

Olivia R. Myers

@oliviarosaline

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peachyloveswriting · 1 year

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Can I also have prompt #s 2, 3, & 45 w/ Dark?

Office hours

(Darkiplier X reader)

Prompts:

#45 “I think I’m in love with you.”

#3 “Could this even work between us…?”

#2 “You are quite interesting.”

Summary: after living at the manor for so long, the Ego's are very fond of your presence, In fact, if you were to leave it probably would be a bad idea. Luckily, Dark has something in mind that might make you stay.

Tags: hints of angst, mostly just tension.

•••••••••••••••

Night glimmers in the sky overhead. A time in which mortals sleep through it's dark beauty, completely unaware of those that use it as their time to thrive. The dangers that lurk in the shadows and the old ghosts that stake their lives in a mansion of echoes. Tonight, the Iplier Manor is quiet. The egos are at ease, for now. Host is shut in his room, his typewriter filling the air. Dr.iplier is busy with Illinois, he's been sick all week. Engineer is visiting New York. Yancy is at work, being the only one who can sustain a job other than yourself. Noir is out doing detective work.

After 'In Space With Markiplier' the egos have been slowly returning to normal. At least as normal as it can get considering who else lives within these walls. It's never a boring day when Wilford's around. It definitely special when Dark makes an appearance. 'It's rare to catch him out of his office' everyone says. Your encounters with the monochrome demon definitely isn't rare. He frequents your path often. Occasionally he even stops to talk to you usually asking about your day. Quite contrary to the regal, uptight, and powerful person people say he is. He's sweet, soft-spoken, and polite with you. He's much of a shut in, however, his office door never being open. You can always here muffled music coming from inside. It's not hard rock, in fact, it's more classical than anything and not Beethoven.

Tonight, as you push open your bedroom door and step out into the dimly lit hall, your met with the floor lit up next to your room. Originally you were stationed next to his office to keep you in check. They never moved you. Softly shutting the door, you peek over at the source of light. Strangely enough, his music is louder and more clear than usual. Finally seeing the door, your breath hitches at the sight. Light spills across the wooden floor from his office. His music swims through the manor, pulling your closer. Such a secretive and quiet man leaving his cavern open for anyone to see.

Deep and smooth humming enters your ears tempting you to peek into his office. Your teeth bite your lip so hard it feels as through blood could spill at any moment. It's like you've committed a crime just by letting the thought enter your head, yet, his humming lures your forward. Placing a hand against the wall to steady yourself you ease forward. Your heart beats wildly in your chest as you creep closer and closer to seeing him. Inside is lavish, there's a shelf of records along with a record player in the corner. The walls are lined with questionable paintings, each reminds you of his true grim nature. Shivers lip at your spine. Hanging from a coat hanger is his dark grey blazer. Your breath hitches in your throat, the image of him without his full outfit makes you wonder just when he looks like. Relaxed, without the pressure of being so high-standing and important. The thought of him leaned back in his chair, his feet propped up on the desk with the tie around his neck loosened and the first few buttons of his shirt exposing his toned chest.

Heat gathers in your face as you spot the edge of his desk. It's clean polished oak and It's dark finish indicating it's rather expensive with it's intricate details. On top of it's smooth finish is a small lamp, the only light source in the room. There's a small stack of books from Host's library on the edge. Each page is worn from the outside edges, Host is always complaining about how hard it is to collect paper books in good condition. Realizing the humming stopped, you suck in a breath. There's no other noises over the music, none that you can hear.

"You are quite interesting." Dark says from behind you. A shiver rides up your spine as you cover your mouth with your hands. Your eyes are open wide and your breathing is scarce as you turn around. His cologne fills your smell as you lay your eyes on him. He stands with his hands in his pant pockets. His tie is nowhere to be seen and the top few buttons of his shirt are undone. Tonight, he's very loose. His seemingly up tight demeanor melted away.

"Spying on me?" He asks. Your heart pounds in your ears as you lower your hands, waving them defensively. "No, this. I'm..this isn't what it looks like. I swear." You stammer. Dark raises a thick brow. His stern glare makes you sweat, your hands plucking helplessly at the end on your shirt. He's looking you up and down as if you inspect you. Abruptly, he cuts the silence with a knife. A low, deep, laugh falling from his lips. His shoulders shake with heavy laugh, his eyes are closed and you can see what looks like a hint of red on his grey complexion. "You should see you face." He says after he's calmed from his fit.

Hot and ashamed, you look away. Your eyes glue themselves to the floor. Nervously rubbing your hands together you hum. As if your soul and willpower we're crushed in the safe go, you feel deflated and powerless against him. A cold hand grabs your chin, forcing you to look at Dark. "I'm only joking dear,"--his hand falls from your face and moves to open the door--"come in. I wouldn't mind a companion right now." He offers.

Pushing the burning feeling in your chest away, you nod in agreement. Dark's ice cold gaze is suddenly warm as he smiles at you, welcoming you into his office. The overly warm actions leave you confused, the cold grip of his hand on your face still lingering even as you touch it in awe. Pushing open the door he gestures for you to step in. As you do, he closes the door behind him. Stepping around you, Dark smiles. You look around is surprise. His office is mostly wood themed with it's occasional splash of red here and there. It's much smaller than expected, but it's comfy. With the books and records lining the walls, you feel relaxation wash over you.

"It took a lot of work to make it mine." He says. There's a glee in his eyes as he smiles up at you from where he sits in his chair. His feet are propped on on the desk and his hands are neatly folded over his abdomen. There's small wrinkles in the edges of his eyes from smiling at you; it's just uncanny. Lifting a hand he points to one to two chairs in front of his desk. "Have a seat, get comfy. I won't bite." His eyes glimmer as you settle into the small, red, plush cushion. Something about him seems overly delighted to have you here. Coincidentally, part of you is over the moon that he wants you here. Being in the same room with his is electrifying for Christ sake. In a way it's forbidden, or it feels that way. A human and a demon, it's unheard of.

"if you'd like to leave it won't make me upset you know." Dark says softly. Distracted, you raise your brows. Being unaware of how uncomfortable you look it's hard to understand why he would offer that to you. "No. It's fine,"--sucking in a breath, you roll the words around in your head--"don't want to go anyway." Dark watches you intently and nods his head in response. "Oh, of course. I'm glad." Taking his feet from the desk, he sits up and scoots forward to rest his elbows on the desk. "I was going to come and get you earlier but you came to me." He admits.

Confused, you furrow your brows. "You were?" There could be any number of reasons why. Maybe an update, a report, an approval of trust, yet the answer is so unclear. And for the first time, Dark begins to fidget. Picking at one of the buttons on his shirt, he hums. A distant look falls over him, it hard to decipher what this means. You don't know him well enough. The others say he has outburst when you step the wrong way, it's best to keep your distance yet he pulls you in closer. Looking from behind you his eyes finally meet yours.

"You've been an amazing addition to mine and the Ego's lives. Everyone and I agree that you're worthy of staying with us for however long you'd like." His mouth is agape as he he looks down at some of the scattered papers on his desk, his fingernail traces the words. "What I'm saying is that, we- I want you to stay with us. You're a very loved person in this household and I believe that everyone benefits from having you around. I mean- you ground Wilford in his episodes, take car of Host's eyes, explore with Illinois when no one else will, go kereoke with Yancy when he goes out. Long story short, you're perfect for us...for me. It's a lot, I know. But you should stay."

Warmth floods your chest as you watch him nervously look away. It's hard to believe you hardly help anyone in the house with how crazy everyone is, so to be told you're this fix is pretty weighing and amazing all at once. It's hard to keep the warm tears from spilling down your face. Looking up and seeing you crying, Dark disappears from vision. Seconds later he appears by your side, his cold hands grasping yours as he looks at you with worry. "Did I upset you. I'm very sorry, maybe I shouldn't have said any-" you butt in with a grin. "Are you kidding me? Of course you should have said that. You made my night." Lifting a free hand, you wide the tears from your face. "It's a bit hard to process but that means so much to me." You explain.

Dark's shoulders relax from where he kneels on the floor beside the chair. Relief floods his eyes as he smiles brightly. "Thank goodness." He sighs. "I thought I said something wrong."

You snort. "No, you're too sweet for that"

His mouth falls agape as the smile on his lips fades and the spark in his eyes inspires deep thought. Looking from your smiling face to you tender fingers, he feels monstrous compared to you. His large, rough hands practically swallow your hands whole. Even though he could break you anytime he wanted you lean forward, beckoning him towards you. Now within arms reach, you engulf him in a hug. The low ringing that surrounds him fills you with warmth and makes you smile. "Thank you for letting me even stay here to begin with." You say. Dark swallows harshly while you hug him. Just the touch of you against him has his heart doing thing he didn't know it could do.

Realizing just how much of a fool you're making of yourself, you sit up straight leaving Dark cold and yearning for more. "Sorry, I don't know what came over me." Lifting a hand you wipe the tears from your face. The burning heat in your cheeks is becoming unbearable and it doesn't help that Dark hasn't moved or looked away from you.

Looking down at him with worry, you wave a hand in front of his face. "You okay?" You ask. "I didn't make you mad did I?"

Consumed by the feeling of your arms wrapped around him, Dark slowly rose to his feet. He towers over you, being at his true height in this realm unlike his limited body in the living dimension. He's a giant compared to you. Dark knows that, part of him feels as if he'd break you without trying to. You look so fragile in his mind, you don't want to be with someone as dangerous as him. Even if you did... "...could this even work between us?"

"Dark. Are you okay?" You ask. "What wouldn't work between us?" Even though you don't have an answer, the idea of what it could be excites you. For a powerful man like himself to be interested in a regular human would be impossible. Yet you continue to wish hopelessly.

"Pardon me Dear, did I speak such atrocities outloud?" Dark asks. You stare up at him, your mouth agape in awe as you nod reluctantly. He seems distraught by this knowledge. His eyes dart around wildly, his breathing frigid as he looks back at you. Suddenly his mouth feels dry from admitting to such feelings outloud. Taking a deep breath, Dark closes his eyes leaving himself completely vulnerable. There's no better time to admit the truth than now, but the fear of ruining what already exists holds him hostage.

"Is everything okay?" You ask. Looking down at you, his heart begins to beat wildly in his ears. His throat feels closed and breathing is labored. Looking up at him, you're slowly pierced by a pulsating of energy. High-pitched whines fill your ears making you cringe and squirm uncomfortably. It's painful to be surrounded by these feelings and sounds. "Dark." He raises his finger to hush you. "No, let me speak." Surprised and shook, you press your lips tightly together and tap your fingers against the chair.

As Dark takes another deep breath, the high-pitched whine begins to fade and the energy backs away from your phyche. Finally able to breath, you sigh and sink back into the chair. Exhaling, Dark opens his eyes. The darkness inside them is trained on you as he opens them.

"I think, I'm in love with you." Dark says.

The music playing on the record feels deafening not that he's quiet. It almost feels like your not breathing. Your heart pounding in your ears and your stomach churning leaves you without words. For the last little bit of time at the Manor, Dark was just a secret crush. It wasn't supposed to be anything serious, he wasn't supposed to like you back. Dark bites his tongue as he waits for you to answer. Like a deer in headlights, you're frozen. He's starting to internally freak, the thoughts of you standing and walking away or yelling at him beginning to intrude his mind; until your tiny voice breaks through.

"You do?" You look up at him like a fawn, so innocent and precious. A completely clueless lamb right in the butchers hands. Swallowing hard, Dark nods.

"Yes." He shifts. "If you don't feel the same-" you cut him off. "I do." It's so nonchalant. You tried so hard to make some sore of tone come out of that but the shock wouldn't allow it. "Why so silent?" Dark kneels before you, his hands finding theirs way to yours. He feels like he should be jumping for joy right now yet confusion strikes his heart. Your words don't yet match your face. "I'm just surprised, it was only a crush. I didn't think you liked me back." You explain as you smile softly at the man. "This is a lot to take in at once. If you would, can I have a moment?"

Dark stands quickly and backs away from where you sit. The conflict in his head is hard to keep to himself as he keeps up the dapper appearance. Walking to the door he opens it for you. Turning and looking back, you sigh. Standing, you walk towards the door casting a glance at dark at you do so. He seems let down. "I'll be back. I just need a minute." Giving him a reassuring smile you exit the office and return to your room.

#iswm x reader #ahwm x reader #darkiplier x y/n #darkiplier x reader #markiplier cinematic universe #markiplier egos x reader #markiplier x reader

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longliveblackness · 1 year

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In Illinois, where Fred Hampton was born, the police constantly harassed black people. Access to social goods too was made difficult, if not curtailed, in the areas with heavy black populations.

The party, a creation of Huey Newton and fellow student Bobby Seale, insisted on black nationalist response to racial discrimination. The party's Illinois chapter was opened in 1967 and Hampton joined in 1968, aged just 20.

When Stokely Carmichael's Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) split from the Panthers in 1969, Hampton headed the Illinois chapter of the Panthers.

Then a petty criminal, O'Neal was coerced by the FBl into helping them silence Hampton and the Black Panther Party.

And he did just that when he infiltrated the party and provided the FBI with a floor plan of the Chicago apartment where Hampton was assassinated in 1969.

His journey to becoming an FBl informant began in 1966 when he was tracked by FBI Agent Roy Martin Mitchell after stealing a car and driving it across state lines to Michigan.

He was told that he would forget about the stolen car charge if he infiltrate the Panthers for the FBl.

The Panther Party had then become infamous for brandishing guns, challenging the authority of police officers, and embracing violence as a necessary by-product of revolution.

O'Neal agreed to infiltrate the party and when he got accepted, he served as the group's chief of security.

Reports said he even became in charge of security for Hampton and had keys to Panther headquarters and safe houses.

He eventually provided the floor plan of Hampton's west-side apartment that was used to plan the raid that killed Hampton and his fellow Panther, Mark Clark.

Fred Hampton, was executed in his sleep by race soldiers, sleeping next to his pregnant wife, Akua Nieri.

O'Neal hardly spoke of his undercover years but in a 1984 interview with the Tribune, one of his last public interviews, he mentioned that he "thrived" on his work with law enforcement though in the end, he realized he had been "just a pawn in a very big game."

In 1990, William O'Neal, committed suicide.

•••

En Illinois, donde nació Fred Hampton, la policía constantemente hostigaba a la gente negra. Era difícil tener acceso a los servicios sociales, estos estaban restringidos en las áreas donde la mayor parte de la población era negra.

El partido, una creación de Huey Newton y su compañero, Bobby Seale insistía con una respuesta nacionalista negra a la discriminación social. El capítulo de Illinois se abrió en 1967 y Hampton se unió en 1968, con tan solo 20 años de edad.

Cuando Stokely Carmichael del Comité Coordinador Estudiantil No Violento se separó de las Panteras en 1969, Hampton dirigió el capítulo de Illinois de las Panteras Negras.

Luego un pequeño criminal llamado William O’Neal, fue obligado por el FBI a ayudarlos a silenciar a Hampton y a las Panteras.

Y eso fue exactamente lo que hizo cuando se infiltró en el partido y le brindó al FBI los planos del apartamento donde Hampton fue asesinado en 1969.

Su trayecto a convertirse en un informante para el FBI comenzó en 1966, cuando fue rastreado por el agente Roy Martin Mitchell, después de haber robado un auto y haberlo conducido por fronteras estatales.

Se le había dicho que se olvidarían de los cargos por el auto robado si ayudaba a que las Panteras fuesen infiltradas por el FBI.

El Partido Pantera Negra se había convertido en un grupo de baja fama que portaba armas, que desafiaba a la autoridad de los oficiales de policía y aceptaban que la violencia era un producto necesario de la revolución.

O’Neal aceptó infiltrar al partido y cuando fue aceptado sirvió como el jefe de seguridad del grupo.

Los reportes mencionan que incluso llegó a estar el encargo de la seguridad de Hampton y contaba con llaves para las sedes y los almacenes del partido.

Eventualmente brindó los planos del apartamento de Hampton, ubicado en el lado oeste de Chicago. Este mismo fue utilizado para organizar la redada que mató a Hampton y su compañero, también parte de las Panteras, Mark Clark.

Fred Hampton fue ejecutado por soldados raciales mientras que dormía a lado de su esposa embarazada, Akua Nieri.

O’Neal a penas habló sobre sus años como un informante encubierto, pero en una entrevista hecha en 1984 con The Tribune, una de sus últimas entrevistas públicas, mencionó que “prosperó” en su trabajo con el orden público, aunque al final se había dado cuenta que “simplemente fue un peón en un juego muy importante".

En 1990, William O’Neal se suicidó.

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 2 months

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By: Ted Dabrowski and John Klingner

Published: Feb 14, 2023

Spry Community Links High School, in the Heart of Little Village in Chicago, says its vision is to “provide a challenging and supportive environment…to enable our students to succeed in the 21st century.” Number one on the school’s focus list? “Increasing reading and math scores to or above grade level.”

But a look at state data that tracks reading and math scores for each Illinois school reveals two frightening facts about Spry. Not a single one of its 88 kids at the school can read at grade level. It’s the same for math. Zero kids are proficient.

Spry is one of 30 schools in Illinois where not a single student can read at grade level. Twenty-two of those schools are part of the Chicago Public Schools and the other eight are outside Chicago.

The failure list in math is even longer. There are 53 schools statewide where not one kid is proficient in math.

The absolute failure to teach even a single child to read and do math in so many schools is yet another indictment of the state’s educational system. At Wirepoints, we covered in detail the failures of Illinois education across the state in Poor student achievement and near-zero accountability: An indictment of Illinois’ public education system.

The data comes straight from the Illinois State Board of Education.

This column focuses on schools where zero percent of kids are able to read or do math. But we could have just as easily looked at the 622 schools where only 1 out of 10 kids or less can read at grade level. That’s a whopping 18 percent of the state’s 3,547 schools that tested students in 2022.

And only 1 out of 10 kids or less can do math at grade level in 930 schools…that’s more than a quarter of all schools in the state.

Defenders of the current system are sure to invoke covid as the big reason for the low scores. But a look at the 2019 numbers show that the reading and math numbers were only slightly better than they are now.

Take Spry, for example. Just 2 of the school’s 127 students in 2019 could read at grade level before the pandemic. In math, zero students were proficient.

The failure isn’t about money, either. Data from the Illinois State Board of Education shows spending at Spry was already at $20,000 per student before the pandemic. Today it spends $35,600.

What’s really incredible is that many of these schools are rated “commendable” by the Illinois State Board of Education. That’s the 2nd-highest of four “accountability” ratings a school can receive.

Not a single one of the 113 students at Sandoval Sr High School can read or do math at grade level. And yet the school is “commendable.”

Same with Ralph Ellison Chicago International Charter School. Over $24,000 spent on each of its 172 students. Labeled “commendable.” And none of the students are proficient in either reading or math.

In a sane world, schools that don’t and can’t teach a single student the most basic of skills would be shut down. But here, they carry on…the system thrives while students wither.

This is what "equity" looks like. Equal outcomes.

"Standardized testing is racist" is code for "checking that we're doing our job is racist."

#education #literacy #illiteracy #corruption of education #equity #diversity equity and inclusion #religion is a mental illness

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tvrmoils · 7 days

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✦ DYLAN PARKER » committed yet judgmental thirty - eight year old weapons division head agent who goes by she + they pronouns and is always toying with an ancient gold coin between her fingers , a gift from her grandmother that helps her in moments of disquiet . born in chicago , illinois , often can be seen immersed in a poetry book ( that’s sometimes a history one , or a romance novel ) ; taking her lovely dog valkyrie on a stroll ; or buried in a new project , a new trial , anything that would make her division thrive . determined as a racing horse , but mistrusting to the core , dylan deeply enjoys the bitter taste of their black morning coffee , working in the quiet of the night & taking their grandmother out for dinner every friday . lawful neutral , taurus sun & history enthusiast , she identifies as a bisexual demi woman , has the terrible habit of mixing energy drinks with coffee to stay awake , and has been part of the mercy organization for one week . ©

THREADS . WANTED CONNECTIONS . AESTHETIC .

⸺ I , BASICS .

full name : dylan theodora parker . nicknames : dyl , theo ( grandma rights only ) . preferred name : dylan parker . age + dob : thirty8 + may 7th . birthplace : chicago . illinois . gender + pronouns : demi - woman + she / they . s / r orientation : chaotic bisexual . faction : weapons . codename : agent wire . spoken languages : english , spanish ( native ) , brazilian portuguese ( conversational ) . significant bonds : simone parker ( mother , deceased ) . theodora parker ( grandmother , alive ) .

⸺ II , PERSONALITY TRAITS .

positive : committed , determined , creative : neutral : guarded , collected , sensitive : negative : judgmental , aloof , mistrusting : zodiac’s main three : taurus sun , gemini moon , libra rising : moral alignment : lawful neutral : temperament : choleric - sanguine .

⸺ III , BACKGROUND .

you’ve always considered yourself a monster , what else could someone who kills her mother so they could enter this world be ? you grew up guilty of a sin you didn’t commit , yet you never believed your grandmother’s words , who with anguish in her eyes tried to rid you of it .

you’ve always considered yourself a monster , so as a monster you grew up . prone to violence you learned how to keep on a leash , to intrusive thoughts that kept you awake at night , yet as morning came , you also learned how to hide it , in the shadows of your heart and the darkest corners of your mind .

she saw you as you were , though , your grandmother , but her love never ceased . and maybe , just maybe , her love was your salvation , her trust in you , her endless belief in the goodness of your heart that was never truly there . still , her hope was unbreakable , and you tried and will always try for her .

sentinel came as a beacon of light ten years ago , raised rough around the edges , hardened by the painful reality of your neighbor , a neglected thing on the outskirts of chicago where people couldn’t even dream of having a different life from their unescapable fate shaped them to have . not you , though , never you . your anger gave you purpose , and when the time came , sentinel gave you an intent , too , a way to unleash your rage in a manner you never knew you could have , without hurting people or yourself .

building weapons was a respite . you didn’t know you had an intrinsic talent for it , however , you did , and the violence of the objects tamed yours at the prospect of a necessary brutality , one you couldn’t escape , one you didn’t need to .

by the time you were promoted , mercy showed up around the corner , and your purpose turned stronger — now you could really do something aside from destructing everything you touched , in the end , they were good assets to society , weren’t they ? and the idea of finally helping to protect , to save , to do some good with your tainted soul made you believe , for the first time , you might not be a monster after all . how could you be when doing good makes so much sense ?

⸺ IV , HEADCANONS .

i. dylan has a brown pitbull terrier named valkyrie , she’s a soft , very trusting baby , friendly with people , and a protector of cats . ii. despite their tough core and intrusive thoughts , they have very gentle hobbies and a passion for romance novels and poetry . iii. her grandmother is the most important person in her life , probably the only one . she’s a quite older woman who has kept herself healthy thanks to sentinel’s ( and now mercy’s ) biomedical advances . iv. she highly prefers to work at night , there is something about the quiet of those hours that make her thrive , although this led her to develop quite an addiction to mixing energetic drinks and coffee . v. they’re a greek mythology and history enthusiast , if they trust you enough , they can talk your ear off about it for hours .

#⠀⠀ ⠀ 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴𝙳 ‎ 𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁⠀ ⠀:⠀ ⠀agent ‎ file ⠀⠀»⠀⠀ introduction ‎ .#⠀⠀ ⠀ ❛ ⠀ ⠀⠀i keep my monsters on a leash ⠀⠀» ⠀⠀𝒑. ‎ dylan .#⠀⠀⠀ ✦ ⠀⠀⠀𝒑. ‎ dylan . ⠀ ⠀ » ⠀ ⠀ interactions ‎ .#⠀⠀⠀ ✦ ⠀⠀⠀𝒑. ‎ dylan . ⠀ ⠀ » ⠀ ⠀ visage ‎ .#⠀⠀⠀ ✦ ⠀⠀⠀𝒑. ‎ dylan . ⠀ ⠀ » ⠀ ⠀ insight ‎ .#⠀⠀⠀ ✦ ⠀⠀⠀𝒑. ‎ dylan . ⠀ ⠀ » ⠀ ⠀ aesthetic ‎ .#ok bio is somehow short but good imho *eyes*#mercyorg:intro

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harvardfineartslib · 9 months

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This artists’ book entitled “The prairies” by Dawn Hachenski combines a timeline of historical facts on ecological degradation on the prairies. When you learn these facts, you come to realize that the prairies are a rumination of the past. The Great Plains, as we hold in our imagination, no longer exists. Read some of these facts below:

“About 99.9 percent of tallgrass prairie land has been destroyed.”

“1990 - Most of Illinois’ prairie already gone. Tallgrass prairies rapidly being turned into corn fields, the bison all but disappear.”

“Illinois’ moniker as the PRAIRIE STATE is now a misnomer. Of the 40 million acres of tallgrass prairie land that once graced the state, only 3500 acres remain.”

“Species that once thrived in the Great Plains – the bighorn sheep, the plains grizzly and wolf are now all extinct.”

The book also combines stanzas from the poem “The Prairies” by William Cullen Bryant celebrating the plains.

The prairies Hachenski, Dawn Rosendale, NY : Women's Studio Workshop, 2007. 2 folded sheets ([6] pages each), 1 accordion-folded sheet with 9 red flags glued on : illustrations ; 14 x 23 cm English HOLLIS number: 990152988660203941

#ArtistsBook #Prairie #Ecology #DawnHachenski #HarvardFineArtsLibrary #Fineartslibrary #Harvard #HarvardLibrary #WomensStudioWorkshop #ArtistsBooks

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iamfruitie · 4 months

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Kinktober 2022 Day 25

Day 25: Foursome

“Comfortable?” Illinois asked as a whisper into Yancy’s ear.

“Y-Yeah,” Yancy answered after swallowing.

“Good~” There was practically a purr in his voice.

Illinois was kneeling on his bed with three other men. Yancy, Phantom, and Jackie. All of them without clothing, hard and covered in bitemarks and hickies. Illinois had Phantom and Jackie waiting and watching as he had Yancy press his back to his chest, holding his hips to prevent him from rocking back on his cock. Now, it was time to tell the other two what to do.

Illinois was thriving on being the one in charge of all of them.

“Come here, Phantom.” Illinois beckoned with a finger. Phantom was known for being a brat, for sassing and not following instructions, but it seems Illinois had proven enough that he should be a good boy to get what he wants and was crawling over with no protest or comment. “Good boy, get nice and comfy against us.” Illinois reached around and placed his hands on Phantom's waist, guiding him to press his and Yancy’s chests together. “Phantom, dove, adjust your legs and arch your back. Let Jackie see exactly where he's wanted.”

“Yes, sir~” Phantom giggled, sticking his ass out and giving it a playful wiggle.

“Go on, Jackie. You’ve already gotten him nice and open. Get a little more lube and give him what he needs. Yancy’s getting a little impatient.” Illinois took a firm hold on Yancy’s hips, preventing him from being able to move since he had tried while Phantom was getting adjusted.

“Only a little.” Yancy leaned back against Illinois.

“Jackie~” Phantom sang and wiggled more. He softly laughed at Jackie scrambling for the lube.

“That gave him the kick he needed.” Illinois hummed with a smile. Jackie covered himself with the lube, crawled over, and joined the other three.

“Are you ready?” Jackie asked Phantom as he pressed his chest to his back.

“Very~” Phantom kissed Jackie’s cheek, grinding himself against him. “I want to feel you inside of me, Jackie-bear.”

“I can do that.” Jackie kissed the base of Phantom’s neck as he pushed in.

“Just like that~” Phantom nearly purred.

“Let’s get the real fun started, shall we?” Illinois asked.

“Please,” Yancy said before softly moaning as Illinois slowly began to thrust. “Finally~” He sighed and rested his forehead on Phantom’s shoulder.

“Follow my lead, Jackie,” Illinois said.

“O-Okay.” Jackie licked his lips and moved his hips as well, matching them to how Illinois was. Phantom also softly moaned, hands wrapping around Yancy as he leaned against him.

“There you go, get a good hold of each other while we have you.” Illinois gently nipped Yancy’s shoulder. “We’re here to touch and feel and enjoy~” He dug his fingers into Yancy’s hips and started thrusting harder, earning another lovely moan.

“Yanc~” Phantom giggled, guiding Jackie’s hand for a better hold on him while he used the other to turn Yancy’s head and catch him in a kiss. He took a second for Yancy to catch his breath before deepening it, scraping his teeth against the other’s lips and rolling his tongue.

“Holy shit.” Jackie breathed out at the sight and, using that hold Phantom showed him, started fucking him faster, causing the kiss to break as Phantom moaned out loudly.

“Oh, fuck~!”

“Now we’re having fun.” Illinois chuckled deeply and went faster as well.

“I-Illy~” Yancy panted out as he and Phantom just clung to each other desperately, pressing their bodies even closer together to the point that their cocks rubbed against each other and got more noise out of them. Phantom held Yancy’s hips with Illinois, making it so it’d be even easier for them to grind. “Shit, shit, shit~” Yancy said between each little gasp of air. It all felt so good. “Shit~!” He cursed once more, cumming and digging his nails into Phantom’s sides. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” Yancy added, knowing Illinois would if he didn’t tell him not to. It was sweet that Illinois didn’t want to overwhelm him, but he wanted that almost painful overstimulation, and he got it.

“Anything for you, treasure.” Illinois decided he wanted Jackie to show off his strength. He took a hand off Yancy’s hip and grabbed Jackie's chin, tilting it so he was looking at him. “Jackie, I know you’re holding back.” His voice dropped, tone sounding smoother than honey, and he saw how Jackie’s eyes widened. “I want you to give it to Phantom. You know he can take it. Can you be a good boy~?” Illinois nearly purred and knew the phrase would get to Jackie.

“I-I can.” Jackie stammered out.

“Then fuck him.” Illinois grinned and let Jackie go, wondering if he did have magic with how Jackie seemed to be under a spell as he obeyed.

“Holy fuck, Jackie~!” Phantom cried out, eyes rolling back, and was singing his moans. Jackie’s grip was bruising, and he was cursing under his breath into Phantom’s ear. “Oh, God~! Jackie, Jackie~!”

“Like a songbird.” Illinois chuckled and had to brace himself so he didn’t fall back. Jackie really did have a lot of strength, and it was nice he found someone who could let him go all out without fear. It was also fun the way Jackie’s thrusts into Phantom caused Yancy to move and made him fuck himself back on his own cock. Jackie was doing all of the work and was loving it.

“I-” Phantom couldn’t get anything else out beyond that before he was moaning loud enough for his voice to crack, cumming and adding to the mess between himself and Yancy.

Yancy was whimpering at this point, and Phantom’s mouth couldn’t close as he got to ride out his high as well. It wasn’t too long before Jackie was grunting and cumming, getting Phantom’s breath to hitch at the feeling. Illinois had closed his eyes and let himself get lost in his own pleasure and soon was the final one to cum.

“Damn.” Illinois hummed and wrapped his arms around Yancy’s chest to keep him up as he slowly pulled out. Jackie held Phantom, nuzzling his nose into his neck and keeping him close. “Come on, big boy, they need cleaned up.” Illinois chuckled and patted Jackie’s shoulder. He crawled out of the bed, ignoring Yancy’s muttered ‘protest’ at getting carried.

Jackie kissed Phantom’s neck a few times before following suit. Phantom had no protest about being carried and happily wrapped his arms around Jackie’s neck and kissed his cheek a few times, ready to join Illinois and Yancy in the bathroom for some extra pampering.

----

Tags: @dungeon-dragons-dragons

#kinktober 2022 #phantomhero #yanois #nsft #fruitie writes

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thebiggestfuckgiven · 6 months

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Ectoberweek 25: Will-o’-Wisps

Rating: T

Warnings: mentions of death, of being buried alive, descriptions of gore, brief mention of vivisection, true crime-esque horror, and general spooky vibes

A/N: I really wanted to do a lil something for the spooky month and what better to write than something for the fandom i’ve been sickeningly hyperfixated on for the past four months. Actual prompt had a two-sentence prompt as well, and i went with both <3

- 💜 -

October 2004

The things everybody tells you about small towns- everyone knows each other, ni things big happens, every day is a slow day, and the biggest local teen hotspots are the walmart parking lot or the big chain pharmacy/corner store —are true. The thing that everyone knows about small towns except for the majority of the people living in said town is that their minds are as small as the local post office.

This is especially true of the teens of Casper High in Amity Park, Illinois.

Sam’s black combat boots stomped against the warm pavement as she ran for the next block. Her breathing was ragged, coming out in harsh puffs of air in the autumn cold. She had gotten an SOS text message from Tucker seconds before the last bell rung.

Normally, she didn’t take the Foley kid very serious. They didn’t know each other that well and they barely hung out save for the couple of school projects they’ve worked on together and those rare lunch hour occasions where he’d sit at her table uninvited. Usually to avoid Dash, Kwan and the rest of their jock entourage.

She stumbled to a stop at a crossroads borderline wheezing. Running was so not her forte. Maybe it was cruel of her, but Same fully intended to ignore his SOS. That is, until she saw Tweedledumb (Dash) and Tweedledumber (Kwan) shove a screaming Tucker into their run-down jeep and speed off.

Hence, why Same was ruining her sickly goth pallor by chasing after them.

She glanced to her left just in time to see the run-down jeep screech to a halt. Christ, the stabbing in her sides was killing her. Sue her for walking. The jeep wasn’t going anywhere anymore. She stumbled a few steps, feet burning, as she held a hand to her sides like that would help her.

Dash jumped out from the passenger side, Kwan following shortly after, from the driver’s side. They opened the back doors on each side, where Tucker was. They cornered him. Dash reached in and was soon pulling Tucker out by his feet. Sam could hear his scream now.

“C’mon, guys, please just leave me alone! Let me go, Dash!”

The Wonder Jocks laughed in response. Kwan slammed his door shut, confident that Dash had Tucker handled now that he was out of the car. Kwan rushed to the sidewalk to roughly grab Tucker’s free arm.

“Guys, this isn’t funny!”

Sam was halfway down the street now and she dreaded the idea of having to run again to keep those two muscle-headed idiots from beating the crap out of the geek that for some reason imprinted on her. Ugh, caring for people was overrated anyways. She could still walk away. Save herself the hassle. No one care about her in this stupid town anyways. So, why should she care?

She slowed to a stop. Her feet ached.

Dash and Kwan were dragging Tucker towards the street corner, which just confused Sam, amidst her inner turmoil. Why even drag Tucker all the way out to his own neighborhood? His house was literally a street away, and there wasn’t even a bare-bones playground here. So what—

“No, no! Don’t put me in there, Dash, Kwan, please! Just let me go, guys, it’s not funny!”

Sam felt a sharp chill run down her spine. Something heavy dropped in the pit of her stomach at the sudden realization of where, exactly, they were.

“Shit.”

She broke off into a sprint as fast as she could.

Shithsitshitshit.

Another thing about small towns is that they all have a well-kept secret. A dark past, usually. Sam found that she thrives on such darkness; on those unwanted and discarded things. As it turned out, Amity Park had a surprising amount of those. She made it her personal business to grow intimate with her town’s buried gutter.

The things she learned were both shocking and, for all her boasting, a little horrifying. Things that would be permanently burned into her retinas. Unseeable and unforgettable. So, she scolded herself for not realizing sooner where they were dragging Tucker to. She would’ve run a little faster, cared a little more, if she had.

She zoomed past the jeep and turned the corner so sharply she nearly fell flat on her face.

Tucker wasn’t screaming anymore, but there were tears streaming down his face as he stared in terror at the behemoth of a house towering over them.

In all its abandoned, festering glory: the infamous Fenton House. Even in bright daylight, the house was obscured in awkward elongated shadows, made worse by the house’s freaky, Frankenstein-esque structure. As if imitating a child’s building blocks tower, there were partial structures jutting out of the house’s main body. They creaked in the cold wind, threatening to snap off and crush any trespassers. At the very top, there was a round dome of sorts with something resembling letters across it. They were black with rot now. Unreadable.

Sam wasn’t a fearful person, but she was a believer. The Fenton House was more than haunted. She’s read enough testimonies to not take it lightly. People have gone missing in that house. Hell, they’ve been found dead in there. She may not be friendly with Tucker, but that didn’t mean she was about to leave him to a tragic fate.

Body running on a sudden burst of adrenaline, she grabbed the nearest thing she could find (a sizable stick) and marched towards the two jocks.

“Hey!”

All three of the boys turned to look at her. She stood two steps below them, resolutely ignoring the way the house seemed to want to swallow them whole. Tucker’s terrified face shifted into one of pure relief. A new wave of tears was visibly threatening to spill over.

“Sam,” he croaked.

Dash barked out a laugh.

“Samantha Manson? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Hey, wanna help us lock this dweeb in the Fenton House?” Kwan smiled brightly, pointing at Tucker.

Sam scowled. People always confused her apathy for cruelty. She hated it.

“It’s Sam, and like hell I do. Drop the nerd, assholes, or else,” she said, pitching her voice lower in an attempt to sound intimidating.

Maybe she should’ve spent her time running thinking up a plan instead of hating on Tucker for making her run in the first place. She clutched the stick in her hand tightly.

Kwan scoffed.

“No way. I just said we’re gonna lock him in the house.”

“Yeah! We wanna know what happens when you put a techno dweeb with murder ghosts,” Dash said, smiling cruelly at a Tucker.

“He short-circuits. It’s not impressive. Let him go.”

Dash must’ve realized, finally, that Sam was being serious. He narrowed his eyes at her, the stick in her hand, and smiled.

“Or what? You’re gonna hit us with the creep stick? Ha. Last I checked, Sam, girls don’t have the balls to pull that off, so why don’t you get lost and forget you were ever here,” Dash said before adding to Kwan, “And Paulina says I’m not a gentleman.”

It was Sam’s turn to smile. She went up a step as she spoke.

“Like any girl would let you get that close, Dash. Besides, I promise mine are bigger than yours. Here, I’ll prove it.”

Before he even had time to blink, Sam jabbed the stick hard into Dash’s crotch. A gentlemanly oof broke past his lips and he let go of Tucker’s arm to clutch at his wounded pride.

“Augh, bitch.”

Kwan also let go of Tucker to check on his friend. Sam didn’t waste a second and grabbed Tucker’s hand.

“Run.”

They bolted down the stairs, Tucker nearly slamming into her from the sudden force.

“Sam, I didn’t think— I mean— shit, thank you. I thought- Ah!”

“Shit. Let me go, jackass!”

They had barely cleared the Fenton House’s shadow when a large, thick arm slammed into Sam and Tucker’s bellies as Kwan— just Kwan —grabbed them by the waist and lifted them up.

Note-to-self: never piss off a linebacker.

Sam knew Dahs and Kwan were big for their age, being football players and all, but jesus fuck this was insane.

She kicked and punched for her freedom, but either rage was a hell of a pain nullifier or her punches were child’s play.

Crap, and she dropped the stick when he grabbed them. Just her luck.

“You better let us go right now, Kwan!”

“Or what?”

He was effortlessly taking them up the stairs and— oh that’s the door.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, they— they can’t actually lock us in. There’s no key. We-we can just leave,” Tucker whispered, panicked.

“You don’t know much about the Fenton House, do you?”

Sam’s voice was small. She felt small.

They were about to be locked in a horror house.

Dash opened the door. Sam didn’t even see him get there.

“Sayonara, losers. Have fun in the Fenton House.”

The world tilted and blurred for a split second, Sam’s stomach lurching at the weightless sensation, before she and Tucker landed hard on the linoleum floor. Pain shot up her elbow and hip. Beside her, Tucker groaned.

“If you even make it the whole night! Ha!”

Bam!

Tucker scrambled up at once, but as soon as his hand touched the doorknob a sound like a lock sliding into place echoed throughout the empty house.

“Wha…”

Sam waited with bated breath. Then—

A low droning sound buzzed across the floor, seeping through Sam’s hands in an odd pins-and-needles sensation. Red emergency lights flickers throughout the house, bathing everything in muddy crimson, and the droning sound was replaced by the most horrifying screech of twenty-year-old rusted metal scraping against itself.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Thick sheets of metal began dropping over every conceivable entry. Including the windows and, of course, the door. Sam pulled Tucker back by the collar of his shirt just in time to keep his hand attached.

Tucker yelped, clutching his hand close.

“What the fuck—”

Warbled, distorted speech boomed from somewhere in the house, the voice and the words long ruined by time. It was like someone was trying to speak underwater. The message was only a few seconds long, but it was disgustingly haunting. Sam knew exactly what it said.

Ghost attack imminent. Fenton Security measure Christmas Ham activated.

If she remembered correctly, the measure lasted six hours. But the last time it was activated (that anyone knows of) was five years ago. Who knew how much the technology had deteriorated at this point. They could be here for a whole day.

Sam broke from her thoughts to glance at a hyperventilating Tucker. She couldn’t blame him. The Fenton House was creepy enough on the outside. Inside? With flickering red lights? Sam was making an active effort not to throw up from the fear writhing in her intestines.

The shadows kept moving in the corner of her eyes, she swore she kept seeing a green glow (but she couldn’t tell where from), and it was freezing cold. Colder than it was outside, which should be impossible, but it was the Fenton House. Impossible was inconsequential.

Sam shuddered. They had to find a way out.

“Tucker—”

“Sam- ohmygodSam- this is- I mean what the fuck was that? We’re literally trapped here. In a tomb with linoleum floors. Shit, and you’re trapped, too, cuz of me. I shouldn’t have sent you that text. Fuck it I shouldn’t have flunked Dash’s essay. Now we’re gonna die here and—”

“Tucker!”

Sam grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him lightly. Their eyes met, both wide with incessant panic.

“Calm down,” she spoke slowly. Tucker gulped and nodded shakily.

“Okay, okay, yeah.”

“Breathe. You’re good with computers and stuff, right?”

Tucker scoffed, but more in a self-deprecative way rather than an offended one.

“Sure am. It’s what gets me in trouble, isn’t it?”

Sam shook him again.

“Forget that. We need good with computers. The Fentons were notorious for their unorthodox advancements in technology. Supposedly had patents on really futuristic shit. Most of it buried, obviously. But they were good enough that their security system still activates nearly twenty years after their departure.”

Ridiculously good, she thought bitterly.

There was a moment of weighted silence as they looked around the house. The lights, the rusted yet intact panels over the windows. It was eerily quiet. She stepped a bit closer to Tucker, who thankfully didn’t say anything about it.

“Yeah, alright, okay,” he muttered to himself before clearing his throat. “The-there should be, uh, a circuit breaker somewhere. We could cut off the power—”

“Won’t work,” Sam stated, eyes furtively glancing around them. She had the weirdest sensation they were being watched. “The town cut the power away from the Fenton House ages ago. It runs on some kind of external power source, but nobody knows what.”

Sam kinda hoped they didn’t get to find out.

“Shit. Man, what the fuck. Who the fuck were these people?”

Sam let out a manic sort of laugh. The hysteria was boiling up in her like toxic chemicals.

“Do you want the short answer or the long one?”

“I have a feeling we’re gonna be here a while. Long answer?”

A pause.

“We should find a way out.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them moved an inch. They stood in the middle of the living room. A trashed one at that. Although, looking closely from where they were, the whole house looked trashed. Wasn’t the place SWATted?

She spotted a flash of green in the hallway, right there in the corner of her eye, and snapped her head towards it with a small gasp. There was nothing there.

“Hey,” Tucker said softly. “Let’s check out the windows for loose panels or something and you can tell me about the Fentons’ own loose panels.”

Her mouth went dry, but she nodded.

“Sounds good, yeah. So, uh, what do you know about the Fentons?”

Tucker shrugged and went towards the first window, by the door. Sam followed closely by. He didn’t mention it.

“What everyone else knows. Mad scientists who went so crazy after their son’s disappearance that they tried to summon him from the afterlife. They got so obsessed that they never left the house and just, died here, waiting for their son to come back. Pretty sad.”

That window was a bust. So was the next, as well as the door. They ventured into the hallway. There were a few square and rectangle imprints on the walls, but only one hanging frame left. With a picture. Hands shaking, Sam reached up and snagged the picture from where it was, careful not to cut herself on what was left of the glass.

It was a family picture. A wall of a man stood at the back with a practiced, dashing smile. To his left and a little below him was a woman with short, bright red hair. They were both in brightly colored hazmat suits, goggles hanging around their necks.

In front of them were two teens. A girl with bright red hair as well, but styled much longer. Next to her was a boy, younger and slightly shorter than her, with black hair. They were all smiling wide and bright, except for the boy. His was more hesitant, not quite reaching his eyes.

Sam pointed at the young girl.

“Did you know the Fentons had a daughter, too?”

Tucker’s eyebrows went up slightly.

“No… Something tells me I won’t like why.”

“You won’t. Um, kitchen?”

Sam saw another green flash and was anxious to get away from it. They bee-lined to the kitchen, and Tucker checked the windows there.

“So… There’s a few things you got right. The Fentons—” Sam pointed at the two adults in the picture “—were renowned scientists. They did some impressive breakthroughs. Like the kind they still teach in universities, but with a disclaimer attached. The more they went into their work, though, the more obsessed they got…” she trailed off in a whisper, tensing.

The house was creaking.

Tucker stopped in his tracks, too, eyes wide but lips pressed tightly together.

Nothing happened. The house stopped creaking.

Tucker let out a slow breath, eyeing the cabinets.

“Think there’s anything edible left around?”

She glared at him sharply.

“If you open any fridge or cabinet doors, I’m leaving you here alone. This place is bad enough, we don’t need to add rats or rotted food to the list.”

Tucker pouted but conceded.

“Fine, I’ll just starve. Keep telling me about the creepy doctors and their stupid creepy house while we check upstairs.”

Sam sighed in temporary relief. She didn’t think she could handle seeing a fridge full of maggots. Even if it has been almost twenty years.

They continued up the stairs, carefully, and Sam went on with the Fenton tragedy.

“The Fentons started growing obsessed with other dimensions. Specifically… the afterlife, and its inhabitants.”

“Like… ghosts?”

Sam nodded.

“Exactly like. They became convinced they could create a doorway into the afterlife, at the cost of their reputation. They got ostracized by the academic community once they started referring to themselves as ‘ecto-scientists’.”

“Yeah, who wouldn’t. Bunch’a wackos,” Tucker muttered as they ventured into an organized room with cool colors. Light blue walls, light green bed sheets coated in blankets of dust, so the only reason Sam knew they were light green was because she’s seen pictures of what the room looked like twenty years ago. She ignored the uneven pattern of small dark spots on the wall.

It was the girl’s room. Jasmine Fenton’s.

Tucker went straight for the window, but Sam hung back near the entrance.

“They didn’t actually open a doorway, right?”

His voice broker her out of her thoughts. She blinked.

“Hm? Oh, uh, allegedly, yeah.”

This house probably sat on an open portal. There probably was an infestation of something murderous in it. Sam shook the thought away. She’ll drive herself crazy worrying about that.

“Supposedly,” she continued. “The doorway was one of their patents. They had the science backing it up and everything. But they… There were rumors, around the time the supposedly opened the doorway, that there was an accident in the house involving their youngest. Daniel Fenton.”

Tucker frowned at the blocked window. A bust. They made their way to the next room. A queen bed bare of any bedsheets, and a large chest of drawers with an equally large mirror attached to it. The Fentons’ room. It had an extra window.

“What happened to Daniel?”

Sam shuddered, goosebumps breaking out across her arms. The room got colder, so much colder than it had been. A soft crackling sound broke out, like frost taking over with a vengeance. She opened her mouth to speak but her breath got stuck in her throat.

She closed her mouth. Breathe. Another flash of green, this one brighter than the others. Breathe. It was so cold, her teeth started chattering.

“T-t-t-tucker—”

“Y-ye-yeah, I’m-m ignoring it,” he said simply, tugging at the panels.

Fuck, how can he ignore this. Sam was so uncomfortable, consumed by such a sudden unease, she wanted to claw off her skin. She tried to ignore it anyways.

“Daniel— jesus I’m freezing —he was out of school a couple of days after neighbors heard a scream. That same night, the power went out in the whole town, except for the Fenton House.”

The freezing cold seeped away, leaving behind a frost pattern that didn’t melt on the mirror despite the warming room. Sam blew out a breath, sending out a silent thanks.

She frowned, unsure why she did that.

“A lot of people theorize,” she went in, rubbing the remaining cold in her fingertips away. “That one of two things happened that night. One, a backfired experiment drove the Fentons all the way crazy to the point that they started experimenting on both their kids, thinking they were ghosts.”

“Wait, both of—”

“Two, Daniel died because of said backfired experiment and his parents somehow managed to either bring him or his ghost back.”

None of the windows opened. They started for the next room.

“That’s… actually insane. And what do you mean, both their kids?” Tucker stopped for a moment, meeting Sam’s eyes.

“Did something happen to their daughter, too?”

Sam pressed her lips into a thin line. That’s the part rarely anyone knew about the Fenton horrors. Daniel wasn’t their only kid. He certainly wasn’t their only victim.

“I’ll get there,” she replied instead, looking away. “It only gets worse.”

“Christ,” he muttered.

They walked onwards.

“A couple of weeks after that, Daniel disappeared. But in those weeks, the Fentons became obsessive, borderline manic, with ghosts. Their nature, their morality. How to trap them, contain them… kill them.”

They were nearing then end of the hallway, where the last room was.

Tucker shuddered, sporting his own goosebumps.

“I don’t like the way you said that.”

Sam grimaced, sticking close to him once more.

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad. What’s worse, the Fentons called off the search party after just one night. They claimed they didn’t want false hope, they just wanted to lay their son to rest. They buried an empty casket, and Daniel hadn’t even been missing three full days.”

Her voice was hollow.

“Shit. They…”

“Killed their own son because they were convinced he was a ghost? Most likely,” she said bitterly. As far as true crime went, Amity Park’s dark secret was the worst she’s ever read.

Neither said a word. For one long minute, intentionally or not, they remained quiet, mulling over the terror a kid must feel when they realize their own parents saw them as something to be killed. And to think, they were standing in the house where it happened. Where two parents killed their son. Allegedly.

And their daughter…

As if reading her mind, Tucker quietly asked, “What about the girl? It gets worse doesn’t it?”

Sam swallowed, her mouth dry and throat sore.

“They—” she sighed. “After their son ‘becoming a ghost’, they got paranoid. Extremely so. If one of their kids was a ghost… They couldn’t stand the idea of having an imposter in their own home. There were reports of screams two nights after the funeral. Like, really awful screaming that went on for nearly an hour, I think. Authorities broke into the house after multiple calls to find the Fentons in the basement and their daughter on a table just… cut open. She died before the paramedics could get to her.”

Again, neither said another word. Sam wished she’d run faster. Hit Dash harder. This house was tainted in blood and betrayal.

Tucker clutched at his chest and Sam realized his breathing was short and sparse. Crap.

“Tucker—”

“I fucking,” he gasped, trying to catch his breath. “Hate that we’re here. We’re trapped in like they were, but they— Fuck, they were kids. Their kids. Who does that.”

“Tucker, breathe,” Sam insisted lowly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He nodded, but only got a few gasps of air.

“I’ve been t-trying to hold it together but I just can’t— what if we can’t find a way out. What if we die here.”

“We’re not gonna die here,” she stated fiercely despite being unsure of it herself. “If the windows are a no go then we’ll just find a way to deactivate the security system, okay? We’ll be fine.”

Tucker nodded again, quiet.

It took another few minutes until he finally got his breathing under control. Sam squeezed his arm comfortingly, giving him a small smile. They’ll make it.

He returned the smile without a word and turned to the last room. They had windows to check.

She suspected it was Daniel’s room. It was the only one they hadn’t seen yet. Tucker tried to turn the knob but it didn’t budge. She frowned. Weird… thinking about it, all the other rooms had been wide open.

“Rusted?”

Tucker shook his head, shaking off another involuntary shudder. Sam suppressed her own. It was getting colder again. Tucker tried again to open it. No dice. The knob wasn’t budging. He let go of it, hissing through his teeth as he rubbed his hands together.

“The metal is freezing. It, uh, must be something with the heating.”

Sam gave it a try and immediately drew her hand back. Freezing was an understatement. A second longer and she would’ve gotten the world’s worst case of freezer burn.

“Tucker, I don’t think we’re allowed to go in this room,” she whispered, hugging herself to keep warm.

He gave her a look like she was crazy.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That’s Daniel Fenton’s room. All the other rooms were open but this one—”

“—is locked.”

“No. Look at the handle. There’s literal frost on it. There was frost on the mirror in the other room, too. I think—”

“If you say ghost.”

Sam glared at him.

“After everything I told you. Scratch that, haven’t you been feeling all the weird stuff in this house? The creaking, the frankly extreme cold spots, the fucking creepy green light!”

Tucker’s eyes went wide at that, mouth dropping open.

“I-I didn’t think you could see them. But that— that doesn’t mean—”

The house gave a violent creak, causing the floor to rumble threateningly. The temperature dropped drastically, covering the entire hallway in a light frost.

Sam’s teeth immediately started chattering from the cold.

“This is too much,” Tucker whispers, that underlying panic settling back in.

Impossibly, finally finally finally, they both saw the green flash at the other end of the hallway, flickering desperately before disappearing.

“Tuck,” Sam let out, mesmerized, overtaken by the overwhelming urge to follow that light. An itch she had to scratch, to claw at until it broke open. “He’s here.”

She didn’t know how she knew that, but she’s never spoken truer words. This she knew with absolute certainty.

“Sam.”

He was struggling not to fall for the light, but he couldn’t ignore this forever. Sam thought he’d be an idiot to do so.

She moved forward without another word. Shortly, she heard Tucker follow after.

When they reached the stairs, another flash of light burst to life at the landing, flickering that desperate staccato.

They continued to quietly follow the light wherever it appeared. It led them down the hallway of missing picture frames. Sam clutched the picture in her pocket. They reached a closed door. It was colder in this area, but the door knob was warm. It opened easily to reveal stairs to a basement showered in white fluorescent lights.

They went down the stairs with no hesitation, following that green light that was growing more and more desperate with each step they took. At the bottom, they were greeted by an empty expanse of white floor.

There were various metal tables, but all devoid of any machines or materials that one would expect in a lab. Because no doubt that’s what this basement was. There were discarded cords and metal scraps scattered across the room. But most notably, there was a large, round arch-like structure at the center of the furthermost wall. It was huge, its top scraping the basement ceiling. It had an indent, with two metal panels that interlocked in the center. As if it were a… door.

“Sam… is that—”

“Tucker, look.”

The little flash of green stopped by a blue button on the wall. It flickered swiftly, faster than any of the other times before it went out entirely.

They stayed there, standing, for a moment.

“Are we… are we about to find a dead kid’s twenty-year-old decayed corpse?”

Sam nodded shakily, not believing it either.

“I think so.”

They still didn’t move. God, it was so cold. She couldn’t feel her fingertips.

“What if something happens to us?”

“The thought crossed my mind.”

Two dead people found in the house during its abandonment. Three missing.

“And?”

She looked back at him, a soft smile edging its way onto her face.

“He deserves to rest. Doesn’t he?”

Tucker glanced between the blue button and the closed, arch-like door. Determination set into his features. He nodded.

They went towards the button. Tucker settled his hand over it first, Sam placing her hand over his. Their eyes met.

“This had to have been the world’s worst nap.”

Sam snorted and pressed his hand onto the button. The technology down here must be in better conditions because the effect was instantaneous. Concrete scraped against concrete as a rectangular hole opened up in the center of the lab.

From where they were, they could see it. A homemade metal casket that weirdly resembled more of an iron maiden. They found him. Daniel Fenton. He could finally, truly rest.

That’s when the pounding began.

Sam and Tucker turned to each other in horror. She felt a visceral tug in her gut she nearly threw up then and there. Instead she ran to the metal casket, dropping to the ground halfway there so she slid across the floor. The pounding grew louder, and it was definitely coming from inside. Tucker was frozen stuck by the button.

It only gets worse.

A faint sound, behind all the pounding. Sam leaned closer, listening. Her stomach dropped. Her head snapped towards Tucker, eyes a desperate frenzy.

“He’s crying. He- He’s still- o-oh my g- Tucker, help me get him out!”

This broke him out of his horrified stupor and he kneeled on the ground next to her. His hands were shaking.

“What do we do? What do we do?”

“Fuck, idunnoidunno- uh, grab, shit, shit, go to the other side. Maybe we can lift the lid.”

Stumbling, trembling, Tucker did as he was told and crawled to the other side. But he saw what was on the lid. Fuck.

“There’s a lick. Sam, it’s locked.”

She looked back up at him on the verge of tears.

“What! No, no it can’t be- it—”

“Just, hold on. I’m gonna go back upstairs. Maybe there’s something we can use. I’ll be back, I promise.”

She got the feeling he wasn’t really talking to her. The pounding quieted down but there was a muffled sound. A strained whimper.

“Shit,” Tucker whispered before running out and up the stairs.

Sam sniffled and laid a hand in on the biting cold metal of the casket.

“We’re gonna get you out,” she whispered, wiping at the tears streaming uncontrollably down her face. “I don’t really understand how this is even possible, but we’re not gonna leave you here.”

There wasn’t a response. Not a whimper or a knock. She was gripped by the fear that maybe they were too late. Twenty years buried and they were five minutes too late.

Tucker came stomping down the stairs, taking two at a time. She looked up to see he had an honest-to-god metal bat in his hands. Fully intact and not rusted at all. His hat was askew and his eyes seemed wild.

“He- he helped me find it. Nearly ran all over the house,” he said, panting heavily.

“Hurry up and break it,” she begged, not bothering to disguise the desperation in her voice.

Without another word, Tucker aimed the thicker end of the bat downwards and plunged it against the lock.

It broke apart with a resound clang.

“Help me with—”

But Sam was already crossing to where he was. Kneeling, side by side, they gripped the edges of the casket and lifted. A cloud of freezing cold air puffed up, obscuring their vision for a few seconds. They couldn’t see if they really did save a boy’s life, or if it was just his corpse playing tricks on them. But they heard heavy breathing coming from rattling lungs and not from either of them.

They’d both been holding their breaths.

The cloud dispersed. In front of them lay a young boy with matted white hair, brilliant green eyes drowning in tears and a grotesque muzzle caked from within with old and fresh blood. Metal clinked against metal. His wrists were chained to the casket. His knees scraped and bloodied from banging on the lid.

Tucker immediately removed the muzzle, which thankfully wasn’t locked. Sam’s heart broke. Shattered. The boy’s cheeks were caked, blanketed, with that same mixture of blood, his lips horribly scarred.

He sobbed, screwing his eyes shut against the bright lights.

“Thank you,” he rasped. His voice scraped against his throat.

Tucker and Sam held his hand. They cried with him.

“You’re safe with us.”

He always would be.

#ectoberweek2023 #day 25 #danny phantom #shit’s insane #i wrote this in one night #yes instead of sleeping #it ran away from me so quick #i wrote like a beast POSSESSED #when i tell you this story had me in a choke hold #there’s a lot of fenton lore for this one in my head in true crime format #i think said format really adds to the horreur~ of it all #things that didnt make it into the story: sam’s witchiness #she’s studying to be a green witch #tucker is the classic nerd #can you tell i tried to stick to the early 2000s vibes? pls tell me you can #alsoalso can you spot the teensy super tiny monster high reference #i couldnt help myself #badass Sam Manson #i love her #posted a little late but hope that’s okay #sorry for any grammar errors im pretty tired dkdj #tucker foley #he just wants a friend pls #i genuinely like how their personalities came out in this one #will o' the wisp #buried alive #infinite constant: the trio will always find each other

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