#but Sam and Jazz are that permanently...

[deep-spacediver577]

These images tick me off

[starry-bi-sky]

more clone^2

snippet 21: Danny is Bruce Wayne's Clone and--

Star, with the rest of the A-List girls: alright ladies! it's time for our quarterly 'cutest boys' list! Now I'll get straight to the point, in our number one spot is--

All girls, in unison: Danny Fenton

Star, writing it down on a whiteboard: and for our number two spot--

---------- Snippet 22: clone meet clone

Ellie, dramatically: Danny!

Danny, equally dramatic: Ellie!

Ellie, pushing past him and looking around: where is he! i wanna see the little guy!

Damian, with a sword, brandishing it dangerously: *in arabic* don't come any closer, stay back!

Danny, wrapping an arm around Ellie's waist and pulling her back: woah, woah - he's still adjusting to everything

Danny, turning towards Damian with his google translate open: [please don't stab her. this is Ellie my clone.]

Damian, lowering his sword in disbelief: 'there's MORE of you?

-------------- Snippet 23: Ellie has the same epiphany as Danny

Ellie:...hey Danny

Danny, pouring over his arabic book: hm

Ellie: since I'm your clone, and you're a clone of Bruce Wayne, and Damian is a clone of Damian Wayne, does that technically mean I'm his mom - uh. dad-mom?

Danny:

Ellie:...its a fair question

Danny: .....*deep sigh* you're his cousin until further notice.

------------ Snippet 24: wait for me ii (hadestown, live vers.)

(i'm not sure of the context, but i've been thinking of Danny saying this to Damian during a serious moment for days. the snippet title is the song that the dialogue below is from)

Danny, fixing up Damian's wraith suit: the meanest dog you'll ever meet

Danny, zipping up damian's jacket: it ain't the hound dog in the street. he bares some teeth and tears some skin, but brother,

Danny, adjusting Damian's gloves, pausing to look him in the eye: that's the worst of him.

Danny, he holds a finger up to Damian's eyes and points it at him: the dog you really got to dread, is the one that howls inside your head

Danny, grabbing damian's mask and smoothing it over his eyes: it's him whose howling drives men mad, and a mind to its undoing

------------ Snippet 25: Danny is Bruce Wayne's clone-- (Battinson Vers*)

Ember, in the middle of a fight with Phantom + Wraith:

Ember, knocks off Phantom's mask for the first time: lets see what ugly mug you're really hiding under there, Phantom--

Phantom: *the wettest, most pathetic looking pretty boy on the planet*

Ember:

Phantom, dryly: what, did your mic die out or something? all that caterwauling finally make you lose your voice

Wraith, unsheathing his sword: *vibrating with baby brother rage bc he knows EXACTLy why Ember is silent*

----------- Snippet 26: Damian is finally starting to play nice :)

Dany: hey... guys.... whatcha doing

Damian, hanging out with Sam: Me and Manson are plotting ways to crush the Mayor's plan to cut budget funding for the city parks and cut down the native trees

Danny: oh, i see.... is this safe?

Sam: probably

Danny: hm.

------------- Snippet 27: digging up cold case

Danny: ....if Damian is out with Sam tonight with their plot against the mayor....

Danny, turning towards his desk: then that means I can work some more on Mrs. Witherbury's murder case that she asked me to solve without Dames guilt-tripping me into bed :)

Danny, settling down at his desk with a thermos full of coffee: i'm glad sam and damian are finally getting along

--------- Snippet 28: sparring

Damian, frowning: your reflexes are incredible but your combat is downright awful, brother. it's truly a miracle i didn't skewer you upon our first meeting

Danny, got his ass kicked by his 7yo brother: *groaning in pain* not everyone has super secret assassin training, Damian. And I don't really have time to actually practice anything.

Damian: Mrs. Fenton knows martial arts and her form is proficient enough, I'm sure she would be delighted to teach you if you asked. I will join since I need to keep my skills sharp and my training was unfinished when I arrived here.

-------- Snippet 29: daytime surprise

Phantom, fighting Skulker in broad daylight: *under his breath* at least Lancer's english test will get canceled for this...

Phantom, dodging a blast from Skulker: *in ASL, furious* don't you have anything better to do, you fuck!?

Skulker: foolish ghost child, speak! I know you're capable of it - speak before you lose the ability to

Phantom: *flips him off instead*

Wraith, sending back a ecto-blast with his sword: please pay attention, phantom

Phantom, doubletaking: *in a hissed whisper* what are you doing here!? it's a school day, you should be at school!

Wraith: Tt. If the boot fits.

------------ Snippet 30: guilt

Danny with his head on his desk, his elbows propped up as he massages his hands: hn

Damian, lurking to the side with a guilty look on his face:

Damian: can i....

Danny, silently holding his hand out to Damian: hrm

Damian, immediately taking it and doing the massages + finger exercises: ...im sorry

Danny: hm... I forgive you

[novelistwriter]

Drowsy King

DP x DC Prompt

Danny was completely tired, his Ghost King duties, his schoolwork, and avoiding the GIW and his parents have completely exhausted him. He just wants to sleep, but he can't. Things need to be done,and he's the only one who can get them done. Jazz, Sam, and Tucker are looking forward to their futures, and he doesn't want to drag them into his problems more than he already has.

Clockwork, seeing the timeline unfold down a path that will cause the young Halfa to break down and fade away, steps in and proposes an idea that will surely help the young Halfa King with no strings attached (other than Danny gaining others that care for him, no matter what).

Clockwork will send Danny to a new dimension to sleep for as long as he wants whenever he wants. He will also return to his dimension at the time Danny tells Clockwork to bring him back.

Danny had been moved to the dimension Clockwork chose. The room he finds himself in is decorated with elegant yet simple looking decor, but he's not looking at the decor. He immediately flopped onto the bed (which was so very soft and comfortable) and immediately fell asleep, not knowing that he's in an underground chamber Clockwork made for him somewhere that isn't near any big settlements.

Cue someone of the Hero community in the DC world stumbling across Danny as he sleeps during one of his stays in their world just to sleep.

Some research was done on who the sleeping boy is by the Justice League, and then learning that the boy is a deity of all the deities (Clockwork implanting snippets of Danny's life, as Ghost King, across the many time periods of the DC world so he isn't too badly received by the inhabitants), which causes them to freak out a bit, as they learned that if he is woken up before he has gotten his rest, he will cause trouble (Again, Clockwork's doing, but the Time Ghost being a bit of a troll, as the most damage Danny would do is causing the area around his underground chamber to be in a permanent winter storm until he is fully rested, Clockwork even gave Danny some Titles that Danny will gain through the beliefs of the masses in the DC world, Benevolent King of the Dead, Intelligent Craftsman, Bringer of the Ice Age, Origin of Lazarus).

Of course, the Justice League couldn't keep the existence of Danny a secret, and now people have begun to leave offerings to the slumbering God. When Danny eventually wakes up from his slumber, he is surprised to see that there are many things left for him, mainly food, but he's not complaining. After eating most of the food left for him and sending the other stuff that isn't food to his Keep, he is sent back to his home dimension and goes about his life. The people of the DC world await his return, as Clockwork even left behind an explanation on why Danny won't be there at all times. "When the slumbering King awakes, he shall return to his duties of protecting his subjects and return to his chambers to slumber again when he accomplishes his goals"

And then a bad reveal happens. Danny is badly injured and is heading to the one place he knows that he will be safe. The dimension that Clockwork picked out for him to sleep in.

[on-the-clear-blue]

Down in the streets of Gotham, in the side alley next to Express Urgent Care run by one Leslie Thompkins and that was funded by the Martha Wayne Foundation was a soup kitchen.

Well...a soup kitchen of sorts. Not in any way official but if you were hungry in Crime alley you knew that the food would be safe and warm...and it was a place where *you* could be safe and warm.

Danny had left a week after his parents found out that he was Phantom, a week after he had seen their grief, the regret and pain in their eyes. The week had been spent in suspense, he knew that they needed to talk about what had happened but neither of his parents were ever able to even start bringing it up before they were sobbing.

Danny knew his parents loved him, thst his father felt soul crushing guilt, that his mother spent hours staring at herself in the mirror, as if she didn't even know who was looking back at her.

And to spare them both, Danny left.

It wasn't hard to do, not when he could turn invisible and phase through walls, a final text to Sam and Tucker to say his good byes (he knew that they would break and tell his parents where he would be going) and a particularly hard hug to leave from Jazz, Danny flew off with only a back pack.

He had traveled across the US for a few months, occasionally snagging a post card from a super store to send off home, paying only when he had the excess funds (Sam's rants about mega rich corporate billionaires let him know just which stores wouldn't miss the few bucks the cards sold for)

He had met up with Dani a few times, when she was in the country, handing him Vlads credit card and telling him to keep it (though he never did) only ever using it to book a room for a few nights at a hotel to clean himself up and sleep in a real bed.

He settled in Gotham after a while, he had briefly stayed in Faucett but that place didn't have nearly enough ecto for him to live comfortably.

Gotham on the other hand? It had everything, cops that don't question why a teen is on the streets, natural ecto up the wazoo and well...a crime rate that would dissuade his parents ever looking for him there.

He had set up a more permanent shelter in an abandoned apartment building (after chasing out the low level drug dealers that were using it) and found that he kinda liked the vibes of the place under the blatant crimes being committed in broad day light.

Sure people could see you getting mugged and look the other way, but if you were still alive and there 5 minutes later, they would come back, hand you something to clean up your now bloody nose and point out the bodega that had the best sandwiches.

It was a sense of community that Danny didn't know he had missed for the many months he traveled.

His first "cook out" wasn't even supposed to be a cook out, his apartment building was mostly wood and he didn't trust himself to not burn it down, so he came outside, setting up a portable stove and setting up a pot filled with some, water to boil up a soup mix.

As he waited for it to come to temp, he saw the group of homeless rubbing their hands together, watching him with curiosity, though that quickly turned to hunger as the smell of the soup spilled out into the alley.

Instead of turning the others away Danny only shrugged, pulled out his spare paper bowls and handed them out, taking a few bites first to show that it was safe to eat.

What followed was a sort of tradition, Danny would come out a few times a day, take out his hot plate and pot and set up a soup, others started asking if they could pitch in, and well...Danny would have loved to keep providing it freely but his food was quickly dwindling.

So his soup got add in, some jerky that Crazy Tom had got tossed in, a few herbs (re:weeds) were added in by Miss O'Connor, and Danny didn't even know where Lady Dimond pulled out some spices from, but he wasn't about to question the her, he had learned never to question where the working girls hid their things.

And it sort of grew from there, who ever was around came by, some came out of their way to share a meal, but it became a meeting place of sorts "Come by the Kitchen at noon, Tom got his hands on some steak! And it ain't even smells bad!"

Sure gangs tried to pull up on the meeting place, tried to intimidate the people there or coerce them into doing something...well that was until the host, some punk teen with hair darker than black and blue eyes that were so light they were white came up, and dished out a heavy handed fist into their jaws and sent them packing.

And so the Kitchen became a safe space, if you were hungry, if you were in danger, come by the little alley way, right next to the Express Urgent Care, the Host will take care of you there, if your willing to share, to stay peaceful with the rest of the gathered people, then you were welcome to grab a bite and relax, because the Kitchen was always safe.

---

It would be a few years since the Kitchen started, since people had brought chairs and tables, since an old grill of questionable origin was left out side it, since tarps with only a few holes were hung up to keep the place dry when it rained, since rugs covered the ground and the the alley it was in was swept clean of any needles or cigarette butts.

But for one boy it had only been a few short days since his Mama died, since he had found her cold and dead in the bathroom, a belt tied around her arm and a needle still in her hand.

Jason was miserable, he had stayed with her for the a single day before he knew he would have to leave, the body of his mother would start to decompose soon, so he did what he had too, calling the police with his mother's phone that didn't have a lot of minutes left on it, telling them the address before hanging up and leaving it there so he couldn't be tracked.

He couldn't be there when the cops showed up, foster care would do shit for him, and at least his Mama would be buried, and not left to rot in their bath tub.

So a young Jason Todd, scared, alone and hungry came to the Kitchen, as his mother had told him to many times before, had told him to seek out it's Host if anything ever happened to her...and well...at the very least he would get something to eat...

[redhoneysugarorange]

An older piece of writing, reblogging so I remember it

Actually? WOULD Earth be the ones to petition Oa?

They are interstellar Space Interpol. You don't usually call them on different parts of your OWN settlements or systems. You call them in when someone is breaking THE Laws. Not necessarily YOUR laws, though obviously by breaking THE laws they clearly ARE. But THE Big Laws(tm).

Like Geneva Convention for Space type laws.

You have discovered Planet or King X is committing WAR CRIMES. Call Oa. Tax fraud? That's an inter-personal planet side issue they can't help you with. Pointing Nukes at your nursery settlement and threatening to blow up the infants there unless you give them sex-slaves?

Knock-knock! Taste HARD Light Constructs!

But if so? Then how would the situation get so out of hand on Earth? With the G.I.W.? Simple. Tell me, Mr. President, what do you know of the current day to day life of villagers in rural Siberia?

That they exist? Could you even NAME their village, if I referenced specific individuals? Likely not. And no one would realistically expect you too.

There are countless planets out there! With Leaders busy with local industrial conferences and infrastructure bills. Farming regulations. Talks with that planet a few stars over. Very busy. What do THEY know of Earth? Why would they NEED too?

But! As we know, Ectoplasm is EVERYWHERE. Not just earth. And? Thin spots are not just an Earth-centric phenomenon. Other planets most CERTAINLY would have them too. And depending on the species? The culture? To quote the wise sage Bill Wurtz "you can make a religion out of this!"

After all, chosen few, returned from death... glowing and more powerful then before? Immortal? It's a pretty reasonable conclusion to come too. They are clearly Gods Touched. Some sacred task they must complete.

It would likely even shape the ghosts of the region themselves. After all, they TOO, would believe they were chosen for some Important Religious Task. Be it study or collecting rocks. To what end? Unknown. Who are they to question The Gods?

But! Oh happy day! The old tyrant is no more! A chosen Hero! They go to greet him! Honor him, as you do. Traditional gifts and ballads. Maybe some sacred rocks. A fancy hat. But? Oh? The Champion is wounded! Gasp! Still? But the fight with Pariah happened-

And then they are given Grave Warning(tm). Don't go to Earth. Heretics attacking people. KILLING souls! Trying to KILL the king of all the Infinite! He is somber because his living parents were hurt. Preventing the END OF ALL THINGS!!!??

WHAT!?

These "People In White" tried to EXPLODE the very FABRIC of all realities!? Several of them faint. Truely, these Fentons MUST be chosen by the Gods! Heros. Legends. Such bravery in the face of such HORRORS. Please, let them be brought to their Living counterparts! The hospitals are quite good!

And you know what? Fuck it. Danny will take that. Because his Mom n Dad got hurt. BAD.

They learned he was Phantom at probably the SINGLE worst time imaginable and still chose HIM. Chose THEM. The GIW were coming for him. Gonna hurt Jazz. And his parents told them, with fire and blood, it'd be a cold day in hell before they let them so much as TRY it.

They BLEW UP their own life's work. Went literally scorched earth. And now? They're not doing so good.

Because the Zone isn't made for the living. No food, no water, and no real human-safe medical supplies. They've run out. Danny will take what he can get. He'd even go to Vlad but... his Portal's gone too. And the Buzzards said he looked... spirally. Very... "suicide runs until everything BURNS".

So, yeah. No one's doing so great.

Alien planet it is.

They are greeted with fanfare and respect. The best medical teams on the PLANET. The King and his family is there, to welcome him. It's... it's beautiful. Hardly some perfect utopia, but the air is lite. Art everywhere. The stars vivid and so easy to see, at night.

The King kinda reminds him of Mr. Lancer to be honest. Balding and a bit round around the middle, stern but endlessly fair about it, wants people to do their best and succeed in life. Maybe that's why Danny finds himself opening up. Because... because here is a real, honest to God, KING king.

Somebody who was actually TRAINED to do all this King stuff.

Unlike Danny.

And Danny? He's scared. People expect him to Lead now. To know what he's doing. To somehow just... suddenly KNOW how to do all these things he's never even heard about. He only barely just died. Has BARELY been keeping everybody safe.

BARELY stopped Pariah.

He doesn't know what to do. But he pours his guts out. All the things that have bottled up. And King Not-Lancer listens. Somber and thoughtful. There is little, if anything he can TRUELY do to help. But... there ARE things he can do. Lessons on statescraft, while he's here, for one.

As for the other? Well, as King, he does have the local Lantern's Call Sign. Not to be used lightly, mind you. But what Danny describes? And from what the Sacred Ones have reported? THAT must be reported to Oa. He can show Danny how to do that.

(He does)

[The Lanterns of Earth get a VERY exciting call from Oa. Are every different shade of pissed. But? Whoops! Looks like they ACCIDENTALLY put the Watchtower into a complete Quarantine! Well, dang. Guess we're all stuck here for two weeks!

Reset it? *sound of smashing computer terminal* Yeah, don't think that's gonna work! :)

WHO WANTS TO PLAY 20 QUESTIONS?? We'll start! :) Who here has heard of an organization called, and I quote, The Ghost Investigation Ward? :) ]

@hdgnj @ailithnight @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter

[sukeruton-san]

Random idea Sorta Maybe Blind

Clockwork has been teaching Danny how to do pretty much everything blind. why is unknown

Untill now

After a way too close call with his parents/GIW he almost got fully dissected! He decided to initiate plan 42 Stich wounds,Grab shit,and hall ass to Gotham. Gotham has enough ectoplasm for him to stay long term not nearly as much as Amity Park but it has enough

After one pain filled flight he arrives in a dungey bathroom in Gotham. He looks in the mirror and sees

Oh

What the fuck!?!?

Apparently even though Gotham has a decent amount of ectoplasm He didn't know he needed way more to look alive. He looks ill!?! his skin became three shades paler making his bruises and eyebags stand out more. his hair being way more wild than usual and fluffy-er? He somehow looks smaller and skinner than before, and his eyes

Oh ancients his eyes

There still blue but they're diluted they have that heavy milk quality to them and his pupils are permanently dilated. He can see but he looks like he can't

That's why Clockwork taught him how to do things blind so he can pretend to be blind! cuz there's no way people are going to believe that he can see!?!

He grabbed his bag packed and gifted from Sam, Tucker, and Jazz left the bathroom, clossed his eyes, and started to figure out what he should do.

Bruce's adoption sense seems to be tingling He wonders what that's about.

[emacrow]

Sam Manson dropped a black credit card on his lap..

"I know what you do in gotham, but you will have to stop temporarily.. until we can find some ground after this.."

She was willing to pay anything because she had heard the stories between him and Walker family and what he does in gotham as a villain. He was incredibly good at hiding from his own family during family reunion, considering he was half related. He was smart enough to nearly best batman, but with a Tucker, her, Jazz, and Jack. They can hide indefinitely until they built another portal after permanently sabotaging the one at the fenton house, Tucker already had the blueprints in a usb port.

Hide them for now, Tucker already making fake ID in the back of the seat, and she'll buy an apartment large enough in gotham. Just help them keep danny safe until they figure out a plan to contact the Justice league after making sure they aren't connected to the GIW.

Edward Nygma stared back at Sam, his eyes narrowing a bit as he held the black card that held more money, he thought, considering it was Danny's inherited by clockwork once he got the throne of the infinite realm, before glancing at the rear view mirror of the car.

"I'm not doing this for you, Jack, but I'm doing it for them." Edward said softly, glancing the side where Jazz was asleep in the passenger seat. Toddler danny, newborn babies, danta was asleep with ellen innocently looking at him with her grayish blue eyes far too similar to Danny when he was born for Edward's comfort.

Edward Nygma would be dead to the world for now. Eddie Mockingbird Walker was back from a long 15-year disappearance after losing The Chopin Competition.

He took a long, heavy breath that nearly stuttered, the old, nearly forgotten memories resurface of soft, smiling elderly Meemaw Gretchen Mockingbird in a baby green blouse sitting in the audience among thousands.

A young Eddie plays his final performance, as the crowd silent only for Meemaw to never stood up like she usually did, remain seat with a soft smile and her eyes close.. then the lady next to her cried out for the ambulance as she was not getting a pulse.

Eddie stared in silent shock of the sudden chaos, waiting and hoping for Meemaw to get up and yell that was her grandbaby Eddie that was going to win this tournament in the middle of his performance like she always did in every single one.

He kept his eyes on the road, tightening his jaw as a single tear drip down his eyes. His arms tightened on the wheels as he ignored his heartache...

Part 2 here <- part 4 -> here

[deadsetobsessions]

Can try a fic on: Dick adopting danny? Danny runs away from amity park his parents found out he is phantom and jazz told him to run.

Ooh! I can't do a full blown fic (I barely have the motivation to finish the ones I’ve started) but I can give you a one-shot?

---

Jasmine Fenton has always been a responsible young woman. That's what happens when your mildly neglectful and emotionally oblivious parents parentified you at a young age. Them’s the breaks. Anyways, Jasmine "Jazz" Fenton had raised her baby brother from, well, a baby to the scrawny teenager he is now and is therefore in the right to call herself his parent, even if it was a weight she wished her parents were adult enough to carry. Thus, it was a protective fury like no other that threaded through her vision when Jazz saw a terrified Danny hunched over himself in a way she'd not seen for a long time.

"Danny? Is everything okay?" Jazz quickly stepped inside of her room, taking in the amount of Boo-merangs laying broken and discarded on her floor. She locked the door. This was a locked door conversation, clearly.

"They found out." Danny curled up even more. His words were muffled into the tattered denim of his jeans. Jazz's body went cold as the stark red and green splotches made themselves apparent to her eyes. "They're hunting me."

Breathe. Danny needs you. Break down later. When he’s not around to watch you shatter at how his voice broke.

"Are you injured?" Danny nods meekly. It broke her heart to see him so removed from his usual and mildly ironic lively self.

She patched him up, keeping the red at the edge of her sight at bay when she catches sight of the blaster burns and the cuts.

"Good?" Danny nodded silently back. "Okay. Here's what you're gonna do."

Jazz strode over to her closet and dug out the gotta-dip bag. "Emergency escape bag. Sam saved up enough money to put a down payment and then some on an apartment in Bludhaven through cash, so you're gonna go there."

“What? Jazz, I’m not leaving you here-!”

“Danny, if you die- shut up, you know what I mean- permanently, you’ll be leaving me forever. And that’s not happening.”

Danny winced. Jazz used Pissed Off Mom Voice and it was super effective! Danny loses 50 points of bullheadedness.

“Yeah, okay.” He said weakly, in part because of the lost argument and because he also had ten different blaster scorches.

A loud thump. The siblings jolted, eyes widening in fear. Jazz’s face quickly morphed into the singular determination of getting her parents the fuck away from her baby brother.

“Go. I got this.”

Danny swallowed before grabbing Jazz in one final, desperate hug.

“PHANTOM! I KNOW YOU’RE THERE. GIVE ME MY BABY BOY BACK!”

“Mom!” Jazz shouted back, letting go of Danny and ushering him out of the window. “MOM! PHANTOM JUST FLEW TOWARDS THE TOWN CENTER!!”

“THANKS, JAZZY-PANTS!”

Once the explosive sounds of the GAV rocketed away, and Danny had disappeared into the waiting arms of Amity Park’s mystical forests, did Jasmine Fenton allow herself to sink to the ground and scream.

——

Blüdhaven wasn’t so bad. Sure, Danny’s injured to the hells and back but with the ambient ectoplasm Blud's got powering him, he's not even winded while walking home. His apartment was a bit ratty, but so was the rest of the city. At least his food’s not attacking him, and Danny learned that he’s not a bad cook. The city rats don’t even try to rob him anymore!

Really, it’s not too bad.

[Danny tried optimism. It failed critically.]

“Isn’t it too late for you to be out alone, kiddo?”

Danny whirled around, heart going straight up into the stratosphere. Which, for the halfa, was about 75 beats per minute.

“Who are you?!” Danny slid backwards, hunching in on himself to protect the injured parts of himself. He had gotten injured as Phantom, so his living form was mostly fine. It’s just being living as a scrawny 15 year old in Blüdhaven meant he had to dodge pickpockets, looters, and murderers more often than the locals did. And now, he faced his greatest evasion challenge yet, some weirdo in a sparkly blue Elvis costume. “Elvis-con was three months ago!”

The vigilante’s face, for lack of a better descriptor, smushed into a look of either great consternation or intense focus. Danny swore to himself that he wasn’t about to get offed by Bling Bling the third today. He wasn’t going down like that! Not to a the second coming of a disco ball! Sam would never let it die. Unlike how he will, if he doesn’t focus.

“I’m not impersonating Elvis!” Blue weirdo muttered.

“Of course not, you don’t have the hair.” Danny agreed, shifting back. Keep the costumed weirdo happy and Danny might get out of here safe and sound.

“Excuse you, my hair is the best-! You know what, I’m not doing this right now. I’m a whole adult.” Blue weirdo took an exaggerated breath before introducing himself, like he should have done before approaching Danny like a vaguely threatening circus performer. Danny hates the circus. “I’m the vigilante, Nightwing? You must be new to Blüdhaven.”

“How would I know if you’re a vigilante and not a villain?” Because the child dressed in brightly colored clothes and covered in blood following behind him does not inspire confidence or safety in Danny.

“Would a villain do this?!” ‘Nightwing’ flipped midair and did jazz hands. Danny crossed his arms, the movement adding much needed pressure against the ache in his chest. He levels Nightwing with an unimpressed stare.

“Yes.” Vlad did plenty of those things while trying to either adopt or murder Danny. The vigilante wilts, the ghost tearing up. and Danny tries hard not to feel guilty. He fails. Danny’s failing at things a lot lately. “I guess you get points for not trying to kidnap me, yet.”

“Really?” Nightwing grins, blinding and reflecting off of his pretty sparkly blue suit. That’s one hell of an outfit. Danny had to respect the dedication. “That’s great! So, what are you doing out here alone? Blüdhaven’s got a curfew— more like a suggestion, really, but most people follow it— and if you’re out too late, people will try to rob you!”

Personally, Danny felt like that shouldn’t have been said with a kind smile. There was something off about this guy and Danny was proven right in a few scant moments later, when a robber tries to hold Danny at gun point.

Nightwing all but flies into action, beating the absolute dogshit out of the guy. His ecrisma sticks fire up with a voltage level that raised the hairs on Danny’s neck. Was that safe for the living? Danny inched further away. “Right. You clearly have some issues to clear out on your own. I’ll… leave you to that.”

“Well, I’ll get you home safe, first.” Again, someone who sounded that nice should not be as intimidating as he is. Danny threw up his hands, hiding the wince that drew from him, and allowed the vigilante to escort him home. Even if Nightwing knows where he lives, Danny doubted he’d be able to do anything, even if the electric sticks make Danny wary.

“You live here?”

The ghost child face palms, muttering stuff about “Wing, holy shit where the fuck are your manners?!”

Honestly, Danny was feeling kind of upset too.

“Well, damn, you don’t have to be so judgmental about it. I’m trying my best, holy shit.”

——

Dick is trying his best to not lose his shit. The sparkles in his costume help him with that, reminding him there’s brightness in a world he wants to break with his bare hands. Brightness, like the kid in front of him. Danny.

The wounds were so fresh, Jason’s haunting hallucination following him so closely, that Dick had thought he was seeing another hallucination when he spied Danny from the rooftops. He was half sure he was imagining the conversation, staring at a stranger that reminded him so strongly of Jason. Clear blue eyes, black hair, and a weariness that a child shouldn’t ever have. The mugger made it clear it wasn’t fake, though, and Dick lost it.

Jason’s image overlayed with Danny’s and Dick’s big brother instinct kicked in. They kicked in, right in the mugger’s face, that is.

Great. Danny thinks he has issues. He does, of course, but… to see him wary made Dick’s heart break a little. Still…

“You live here?!” Dick shoved his foot into his mouth, shocked that Danny lived so close by, and immediately cringed at his own tone. His Jason hallucination facepalmed, telling him Alfred would kick his ass for being so thoughtless. The dirty look Danny shot him kicked his ass plenty, Dick thought, grimacing.

“Well, damn, you don’t have to be so judgmental about it. I’m trying my best, holy shit.”

“Sorry, that came out wrong.” He apologized. New plan. He was going to pull a— he grimaced again— Bruce. He was going to adopt Danny. He’ll work through the guilt later, Dick lived here and he knew how much of a shithole it was. To leave Danny alone, defenseless? Blasphemy.

Danny inched away again and Dick wilted. Why can’t he do anything right?

[leafyeyes417]

Danny was tired. Tucker and Sam had drifted away over the duration of high school. The ghost attacks and danger had been the main factor that started the dissipation of their friendship. Jazz had left for college a while ago leaving him to deal with his parents alone. He had eventually created his own secret base and left the house permanently even if it was technically illegal at 16. No one noticed since he still went to school.

Including being a teen hero who wasn’t appreciated in Amity just was the icing on the cake. After receiving approval from clockwork and mastering his portal abilities, he closed the portal down. It wasn’t easy to do but he made sure everyone was out of the blast range when it shut down. The Fenton house was gone but it hadn’t been home for quite some time.

It was because he was so tired that he was where he was. Drifting out of Earth’s atmosphere, Danny let himself luxuriate in the feeling of space. It made his core hum pleasantly. He moved to a good spot still in Earth’s gravity and curled up and just let himself drift along in a haze. He toned down his glow and his body started to slowly fade into the space around him till he was practically invisible.

He floated in this haze for probably a week, slowly recuperating and feeling himself slowly change. There was no one to miss him for any length of time and he wasn’t worried about his human life at all. Honestly he probably would have drifted longer but something woke him up. Some guy yelling about conquering Earth or something.

Annoyed at being woken up by a fruitloop Danny allowed his form to grow with the power of space he collected and snarled out a “Oy fruitloop! I was woken up because of you! Shut up already!” and smacked him into the sun with a giant hand. Turning his ire on the army with the fruitloop he quickly sent them flying with a blast of power. It would take them many years to gather up again with how hard he sent them flying.

Huffing, he turned and glanced at the group of people left. Shrinking down he spoke and gestures wildly. “I was taking the best nap of my afterlife and was woken up by those pests. You gotta better place I can nap?”

Luckily someone was quick to let him know they had a place. He was guided to a space station soon after and was soon sleeping on the comfiest bed ever.

[ririblogsss]

Danny the park crazy guy

Ok this follows Danny with him deciding he needs to get out of Amity Park cause he's parents are getting more and more obsessed with catching Phantom. And the plans he'd over heard were sending him into panic attacks. Not only that a new management was placed for the GIW, and with that they had become more brutal and accurate with their capturing. Danny couldn't make sure ghosts were safe and protect civilians, so Danny made a deal with Technus in exchange for most of the tech Danny has made in the past 6 months Technus has to hack into the portals that his parents and Vlad owned and permanently destroy them. Technus also made sure to wipe all the information on how to re-build the portal and planted a bug that will corrupt any file trying to mimic the portals code/mechanics. 

At first Dannys plan was to play the part of the defenseless boy who just witnessed his parents whole life work go down the drain, and pretend that ghost never happened. He's parents were sad (understatement of the century) but they soon found something to hyper focus on, before becoming ecto-biologist, they were trying to find ways to make liquid that would dissolve plastic in a non-lethal and non-toxic way. So after 2 months of not doing anything and only staying in bed eating ice-cream and fudge its like a light bulb turned on onto of their heads, and Madeline and Jack went back to their old selves. They still had moments were they would gaze back at their projects with heartbroken eyes, and Danny could help but blame himself for his parents suffering. 

Its like one day everything was close to normality (as normal as amity park could be) people weren't mentioning ghost in fear that one would appear out of spite. Classes went uninterrupted people were actually happy for that. 

But then the GIW started making moves, as they were getting more and more restless with no ghost sightings in the last 6 months. 

Then 3 months ago everything went to shit......

Danny could only explain it as if the Salem witch trials had started. But instead it was the 21st century and people were being accused of being / cooperating / aiding ghosts. The GIW had stormed into the town hall and had claimed that Amity park was in full quarantine. No one in no one out. Vlad was taken in for 'investigation' accused of working with the ghost because he never helped the GIW or offered funds, hence committing treason the US government. 

After that People would be taken out of their homes and obligated to take tests to prove they weren't with the enemy, if they passed they went back to their homes traumatized. if they failed.... Well no one really knows, but one might guess from all the screaming. 

Ironically. Dannys parents were the fist accused of cooperating with the enemy. The GIW stated that they seemed suspicious from the start as they never truly caught anything. he hadn't seen them since they were drugged and stuffed into the back of a van. Danny was thankful that Jazz (for collage) and Dani (traveling in Bangladesh) were out of Amity, but it wasn't like he could contact them and tell them what was happening. 

The GIW had cut all contact to the rest of the word from Amity Park probably because what they were doing was considered illegal and definitely were crossing human rights. 

Luckily Sams and Tuckers family were able to come to an agreement with the GIW so they could be exempted from the quarentine (buy themselves a way out). Unluckily Danny like most families didn't have those types of resources. 

But Danny isn't a Fenton for nothing, craziness, gull and genius ran through his veins. So every morning when they were obligated out of their homes and made to sit on the grass of the park square while the agents searched for any 'evidence' in their homes. Danny would use his core to emit a frequency that only other ghost and some metas could hear. But that wasn't what Danny was communicating to no. 

He was sending commands to all the animals he had befriended the last 15 years of his life. You see ever since Danny was a kid he loved how one could be able to domesticate any animal as long as you had food. So Danny when he was a kid applied The Operant conditioning to all the animals he crossed paths with. 

A few weeks after his accident (death) when Danny was making his daily feeding times for the animals in exchange for trinkets and money he realized something. He could understand what the animals 'spoke' and the animals could understand him through the vibrations of his core. When he asked CW about it he only told him that ghost speak allowed him to communicate with anything and anyone if he had a close enough relationship towards them. 

Basically this meant that Danny had hundreds if not thousands of animals (rats, street dogs and cats, pigeons, squirrels ect.. ) at his disposal. The only reason he never used them when fighting Ghosts was obvious he wasn't going to risk the life of his friends. 

And right now his friends were making underground escape routes for all of the Amity Parkers. The plan was already being set in motion. Everyone knew their part. 

One group would be distraction, a group of kids would scream and point in the opposite direction of the escape route and say they had seen a ghost and it was trying to hurt them. The GIW would be guided into a wooded area were they would be attacked by the more predatorial animals. Making them call for back up. 

One group would composed of the most athletic adults / young adults would go into the main base of the GIW (check for survivors and help them get out). 

Another group (the elderly) was in charge of checking that everyone was accounted for. 

Mothers, would be evacuated first with their children, they would be the get away drivers. Different drivers would take different routs. Some left the country other the continent itself. Some when to larger cities for hiding amongst the crowd. But the main goal was stick to your family and preferably if you can go alone. The less people the less likely you are to getting caught. 

And the teenagers from casper high, would ensure all their traces were lost making sure all phones and gadgets were left behind, as to avoid getting tracked down. 

And that's how Amity Park became a dead town (pun intended) in less than 60 minutes. 

This leads us to the present. 

It had been 7 months since Danny had left Amity park. he hadn't seen anyone or contacted anyone from there since. The over all consensus was that everyone had to go no contact with one another as to not raise awareness as to why so many people from different places were constantly calling one another. Danny was certain that Jazz and Dani had been contacted by Sam and Tucker about the situation in Amity. What he wasn't sure of is if they knew he was out of Amity or even alive for that matter. 

Danny was not dealing with what happened well. One of the guys who went into the Town Hall pulled him a aside for a second when they were evacuating to tell him. That he had seen both his parents bodies. They had not survived. Not many who were taken against their will into the Hall came out spared. 

Danny was devastated with his parent untimely death, he only hoped they had a humane one. 

So no Danny was not ok. he knew Jazz would criticize his copping methods. But if taking over a park in the middle of a crime riddled city was sooooo bad then why did he have the support of the Bats. (not the vigilantes the actual cave bats). 

Danny had gotten to Gotham not too long ago (about 4 1/2) months, and decided that the GIW wouldn't dare on their life go into a city were the 'wolds greatest detective and most feared man live'. Danny made an abandoned building overlooking the park his own. he quickly became allies with the fauna there and soon his rein over the part began. 

---

It started slowly, honest to god not a single local though anything of the bony kid laughing his ass off as he oversaw birds and other critters alike help him build what looked like a greenhouse. They did what any Gothamite would do mind their own damn business and go on with their day. 

It wasn't unlit the trees and torn plants started to build a wall like structure around the park that they started to think that the kid was going to be the next Poison Ivy. Worst of all they some have speculated seeing Pamela and Harley go in and out of the park... both smiling like proud parents. Some say that the kid was an ex Wayne kid that was sent into an asylum, and was kept quiet. Some speculate that the kids a meta that controls all animals. Some state they saw the kid talk to the animals and the animals actually listened and did word for word what he asked. 

But Gothamites weren't that worried if they were honest. The kid (Danny as he was now known) brought more entertainment (of the good kind) to Gotham he fit right in. The only thing that made him stand out was his mid-western accent. When asked where he was from he would only stare at you while an animal (different every time mostly racoons) would chase you away. Other than that the kid was a sweetheart he would often bring the veggies and fruits he cultivates in the park to homeless shelters so that the residents would have a 'more nutritious and full diet'. 

The kid would send animals to keep watch on kids and be alerted if any were at risk he would drop in and help in a very unusual way. And he always traded money for little things and bottle caps anything handmade (especially by kids) was infinitely rewarded with money and an automatic meal. 

Danny was known as the Gotham parks crazy. But he was their crazy and no government (illegal) agency of a brigade of bats and birds was going to take him away from them. 

(waaa this was way longer that expected I only wanted to write a sentence of local crazy Danny, and I just ended up writting mostly art other stuff)

[demonic0angel]

For the mp3 trap au

Danny reluctantly agrees to help Lady Gotham with some of her curses. He's not happy about being trapped and bound, but he understands that she's desperate and has been in pain for a long time. He dawns a mask and some dark clothes and gets to work, helping people under Lady Gotham's direction. Maybe eventually, Lady Gotham lets him meet some of the more death touched Bats and Birds

(Tbh, if I was to make this an actual story, I don’t think what I’m gonna write will be canon, but it’s def fun to think about.)

Danny traveled through Gotham as a ghost at first, but eventually, he traveled on foot. It allowed him to mingle with the Gothamites in Lady Gotham’s city and it also allowed her to follow him.

At times, she would trail behind him, a permanent cold spot by his side as she gently guided him to areas that needed his help most.

Danny allowed it, because he too, was lonely enough to want company, even by the person trapping him within the city.

Sam and Tucker would’ve said something like, ‘It’s Stockholm syndrome.’

Dani would’ve suggested something like, ‘Trauma bonding.’

Jazz would’ve said, ‘It’s codependency.’

Danny didn’t know what it was. He had gone through all of the stages of grief before he eventually decided to just make a deal with Lady Gotham. He didn’t necessarily agree with Gotham’s methods, but no matter what, he was a hero.

He didn’t have to like Lady Gotham to be able to save her and her city.

Danny tied up another random henchman and then began looting through the boss’ paperwork and computer at his desk. Lady Gotham stood over his shoulder, uncharacteristically fidgety as they stood inside of the secret base, right in the big boss’ office.

“What is it?” Danny asked aloud, glancing at her.

She stared at him, silent over the brim of her wide hat. Her gloved hands tapped together before she eventually just sighed and shook her head. She did not speak often, but her demeanor was definitely out of the ordinary.

“Nothing to say, huh?” Danny muttered, frowning before he looked back at the papers. He tried finding any method of corruption or crime within the papers, but most of everything was oddly legal and correct.

Danny narrowed his eyes in confusion. This guy was a crime lord. Was he seriously meticulous enough to be able to hide his tracks so well? Even in his accounting books?

Lady Gotham suddenly drifted closer to him. Danny blinked as she approached, before she silently gave him a hug. He froze, feeling the oddly cold and comforting touch wrap around him in a gentle embrace. She then bent down to kiss him on the head, just like his mother used to do for him.

“My gift to you,” Gotham murmured. “You’ll have to stay longer, I’m sorry.”

Before Danny could say a word, the door suddenly slammed open and two figures stood in the sudden light of the hallway outside, pointing guns at him. Lady Gotham was now gone, leaving him alone in a room with the beaten henchmen.

“Alright, you little rat! We’ve got you now!” A mechanical voice shouted. The two people wore helmets and were pointing their muzzles at him, ready to shoot.

Danny turned, wide eyed as he stared at them both. And suddenly, he could feel it. A thread connecting him to one of the figures standing there, a thread that told them that…

The person paused and then held up a hand, stopping the man next to her from shooting.

Without any hesitation, she took off the helmet on her head and then stepped forward.

“Danny! Is it really you…?”

Danny teared up and then suddenly sobbed. He reached for her, his Core shuddering as one of his people had finally found him.

“Jazz!”

[whambamsami]

red velvet

my fist ever fic! hope you like it :) not really sure how this site works yet so so sorry if anything is formatted incorrectly!

Summary:

Bucky's found solace in a seductive jazz speakeasy, a perfect escape for whenever he isn't busy saving the world. But there's a new band performing tonight, and the lead singer has him questioning everything he knows about being a gentleman.

Warnings: no warnings! but if i ever do another part to this, i will be adding many warnings lol

Bucky Barnes was not known for his social aptitude. 

Maybe that’s why he took to this specific place so much.

The Red Fox, a small Italian restaurant owned by a darling elderly man, was tucked away in a cobblestone alley, a whisper in a city that screamed. Despite the incredible tiramisu, it didn’t garner much attention. 

That is, from those who didn’t know any better.

Lurking just below, hidden behind a brass door and a set of stairs that would creak with age, had it not been for the red plush carpet that swallowed any unwanted sounds, was The Red Fox’s best kept secret; L’Affare. 

Dark walnut paneling and the permanent smell of cigars clung to the deep crimson velvet curtains draped around the place kept any sunlight- or wandering eyes- at bay. Leather banquettes hugged the walls like old lovers, and a curved mahogany bar anchored the room, the glistening glass of amaro, vermouth, and top-shelf gin winking at patrons like crown jewels. Customers spoke almost only in whispers, and laughed almost only with too many teeth.

People who knew L’Affare knew better than to run their mouths about the happenings of such a place. 

Which made it the perfect spot for individuals who preferred a bit of discretion to accompany them on a night out. 

This, in turn, attracted a wide variety of guests. 

Including the Avengers. 

Natasha and Clint were the first to stumble upon L’Affare, having followed a group of men who were believed to be involved the mob down the stairs, and were enticed to stay for the near-perfect cocktails and the comfort brought by the tight-lipped staff who moved as if two of the Avengers drinking at their bar was a common, if not boring, occurrence. 

Soon, the rest of the team learned of the safe haven beneath the Red Fox, and couldn’t resist a chance to experience the normalcy brought about by its tact. 

So, when Steve told Bucky about a little place that he could get an Old Fashioned without the all stares and all the questions that made even remedial tasks like grocery shopping a nightmare, he gladly took him up on the offer. 

They became a bit like regulars, always making sure to give a friendly nod to the unassuming staff upstairs before descending into the hazy slice of paradise that was nestled under the busy street above. 

Not only did L’Affare have bartenders that knew how to make a mean drink, the comforting yet seductive ambiance of the speakeasy lulled both Bucky and Steve into a comforting familiarity, reminiscent of their time before the war. Every Friday and Saturday that wasn’t taken up by work, they’d be nestled in a corner, telling old tales and chuckling between themselves. Sometimes others would join, Sam usually, but Bucky and Steve were L’Affare’s most frequent customers. 

This Friday night was like no other. Steve and Bucky had returned from a mission earlier that day, and both were itching to return to their routine. Once they had rested a bit and showered off all the sweat, grime, and fluid that had accumulated on their bodies throughout the job, they happily made their way to their favorite secret spot. 

Both men, enhanced and thus unnaturally giant, had to duck to fit under the brass door as they plod their way down to the familiar bar. 

Tonight, however, they noticed a stark difference in L’Affare’s usual appearance.

The smaller seats and tables that typically sat in the center of the room had been pushed aside, replaced by a small stage, crafted by what looked to be the same wood used for the bar. 

Bucky and Steve exchanged glances before making their way to sit at the bar, the weight of both of them plopping down enough to cause the martini glasses hanging overhead to clink together like glittering crystal windchimes. The bartender, who had served them many times, made his way over to the two men, cleaning his cocktail shaker and nodding politely at them, both in polite acknowledgement and to question what they’d like to drink. 

Steve orders a single, aged, well-aged scotch. Bucky sticks with a simple Tiger Beer, ever the simple man. 

Once the older gentleman serves them their drinks, he moves to give them a bit of space, but Steve motions for him to stay.

“Would you happen to know what’s going on tonight? With the stage and all?” he asks, gesturing to the center of the room behind him.

The man nods politely. “Boss hired a band for tonight. They’re supposed to be real good.”

Steve nods appreciatively, ever the gentleman, as the bartender returns to the other side of the bar, topping off the gin and tonics of the older, oily pair of men in inky black suits, unbuttoned far too much for their age. 

“Band, hm? Sounds sort of fun” Steve says to Bucky between sips. 

Bucky nods. 

“Hopefully nothing too loud” he replies gruffly, a small smile betraying his interest. 

The pair chat for a bit, the day slipping away, and soon the lights of L’Affare are dimming even more than usual, the typical amber glow lower than before. 

The crowd hushes in anticipation. 

Silhouettes were the only hint to what was happening on stage. A group of men who Bucky assumed to be a band were further back on the left side, where three womanly silhouettes were tucked away to the right in uniform fashion. A single figure stood front and center of the stage that drew Bucky’s eye the most. Legs that he could only assume were lengthened by heels led his gaze up to delicious hips and-

Before he could fully register what was in front of him, the sound of a low, lazy saxophone began, curling under his chin and beckoning him closer. The lights flicked on, with a single spotlight illuminating the figure that had caught his attention earlier. 

Bucky gulped. 

All of the women on stage, both the three backup singers and the lead, were in ruby colored silky gowns, like they had emerged from the velvet and leather that adorned much of the rest of the bar. But no one wore it like the main singer, who just filled it out so nicely. 

And then she started singing. 

The second she opened her plush lips, smiling like she knew something Bucky didn’t, he involuntarily tightened his grip, silently thanking God that his vibranium hand was grasping the stool and not the glass of the beer can. 

She wasn’t loud. Didn’t need to be. Honestly, Bucky thought to himself, she didn’t even need to sing, for all he cared, that was how drop-dead gorgeous she was. She purred into the vintage-looking microphone, her dark painted nails glinting as she caressed it, pulling it closer to her lip gloss-coated mouth. 

What Bucky would give to be that microphone. 

Her voice was beyond sweet, like honey poured over a blade. She swayed her hips, Jesus, those hips, softly to the music, and Bucky wouldn’t look away. Couldn’t. He sat there, stupidly, staring up at her like she was something religious, something sacreligious, god, he could care less. All he knew was that she was glowing. 

Steve turned to Bucky, wanting to see his thoughts of the performance so far, and smiled smugly when he took in his friend’s expression. 

“Might want to close your mouth, Bucky. Unless you’re gonna take a sip, or make this a duet” he jests, nudging Bucky playfully. 

Bucky snapped his mouth shut, stopping whatever retort he surely would have thrown to Steve if he was at all mentally available for their typical back-and-forth, his eyes darting to the forgotten beer in his hand. He took a heavy swig before returning to stare at the woman onstage that was quickly making him feel much drunker than he was. 

The band stuck mostly with classics from the Rat Pack, some Peggy Lee thrown in here and there. No one in the room could look away. The lead singer was absolutely hypnotic. 

Song after song, and Bucky didn’t think he’d blinked even once. He didn’t want to miss a second. 

After the band finished up a lovely rendition of Gentle On My Mind, the lead singer leaned in to speak, not sing, for the first time all evening. 

“Thank you all for being such a wonderful audience. We’ve got time for one more, so I hope you won’t mind if we do one of my favorites!”

God, her regular voice was just as enticing. Was that even possible? 

Bucky didn’t have long to consider that until the band was striking up again, ending the night with a killer performance of Cross Over The Bridge. 

Still, he sat at the bar, unmoving, beer untouched in his hand, lips slightly parted, unable to look away.

And finally, finally, the lead singer’s twinkling eyes locked with his as she sang and swayed, that same smile still gleaming out to the crowd, except now, it was gleaming right at Bucky. 

It felt like someone had ripped his chest open and was squeezing his heart. Was this a heart attack? Was he dying? 

He managed to compose himself enough to give her a smile back, his eyes still hazy from whatever godforsaken witchcraft she had used on him. She was too far away, he hoped, to see just how much she had affected him.

Soon, much to Bucky’s dismay, the song ended. She stood and thanked the crowd as they applauded (Bucky by far the loudest, which Steve found very entertaining) and the band cleared the stage, disappearing behind a wall of velvet. Bucky could breathe again. Much to his dismay. 

“You liked it that much, huh?” Steve asked, a teasing lilt in his voice. 

Bucky didn’t even have the strength to feign disinterest. 

“Did you see her? The lead singer? I think she looked at me.” He does his best to mask just how excited he felt at the possibility, but Steve had known him far too long to let him get away with playing coy.

“Oh, she looked at you, alright. You should have said something. Ask her out, maybe.” “Said something? And interrupt? Plus, if she isn’t interested, we run the risk of having to find another bar that won’t make us take a picture for their wall.” Bucky huffs, clearly torn by his intense attraction and mild fear of rejection. 

Steve put his palms out in surrender. “Fair enough. Just… haven't seen you that excited about a girl since the 1940’s. Plus, we already know you guys have similar taste in music” he jokes, finishing off his second scotch. 

Bucky can’t stop a half-smile from forming on his stubble-covered face. He likes the idea that they would have things in common, that they do have things in common. 

It takes a second for him to respond. 

“...Hypothetically…”

“Hypothetically?” Steve questions.

“If I were to consider saying something, what would I say? Hypothetically, of course.”

Steve paused to consider.

“I hate to say this, but you’re asking the wrong guy. I never exactly learned how to pick up women. But we should definitely use our resources here.”

“Use our resources” Bucky asks, tilting his head a bit. Interested. Confused, but interested.

Steve pulls out his phone, a more modern version than his previous flip phone, but still definitely outdated. 

“Hmm… definitely not Tony… maybe Sam? No… Oh! Got it.” 

Bucky waits for him to finish the text, looking expectantly. 

Steve turns to face him, grinning, clearly proud of his quick thinking. 

“So, who’d you ask?”

“Natasha.”

“Natasha?” Bucky furrows his brow involuntarily. As much as he’s grown to be close friends with her, he’d still like to keep this under wraps as much as possible, to minimize potential embarrassment. 

Before Steve can say anything, his phone lights up. Natasha’s ID pops up. The two lock eyes before Steve answers.

“Nat, hey! Did you see my text? Figured we could use a woman's opinion.”

“Good idea, Rogers” her voice comes through a bit fuzzy. She’s definitely out as well, in some other hidden pocket of New York City, eager to blow off a bit of steam after the work she’d put in this week.

“So, what do we know about her so far? What kind of interactions have you guys had?” Natasha inquires.

Bucky and Steve pause for a beat.

“...Well… we haven’t really gone farther than eye contact so far.”

Nat matches their moment of silence. 

“Hm.”

“...Yeah.”

“Okay, well, you’re at a bar, aren’t you? Why don’t you buy her a-”

She’s cut off by the bartender appearing in front of the two supersoldiers. He drops two clear shots off in front of them, doing a terrible job of hiding his smirk. 

“Sorry, sir, we didn’t order-” Steve begins.

“They were sent by the band, sir. It’s vodka. Top shelf. Enjoy.” 

And he’s gone again, retreating to the dark corner from which he came. 

Bucky and Steve share a bewildered look. They were no strangers to free drinks, of course. 

But this was from the band. 

Slowly, they do their best to see through the smoke and darkness that shrouds the far corner that usually allows the bartenders to melt into the background. And there, nursing martinis, are the ladies in red who had just graced the stage, smiling sweetly, raising their glasses in appreciation to the two heroes that sat across from them. 

Nat’s voice breaks their silence.

“Was that what I thought it was?”

Bucky is quick to interject. 

“Thanks, Nat, really, but I think we’ve got it from here.” He hangs up, and looks at Steve, a bit of a wild look in his eyes.

Steve smiles. 

“Guess we found our excuse to go talk to them, huh?”

Bucky doesn’t reply. Instead, he takes both shots, ignoring the burn of the liquor as it pours down his throat. 

Steve’s eyes widen a bit, surprised by his friend’s sudden actions, but he’s never been one to get in Bucky’s way. 

“You alright, Buck?”

Bucky’s breathing has noticeably picked up, his eyes still a bit wide. But he smiles. 

“Better than alright. I’m going over there. Would be ungentlemanly not to thank them, wouldn’t it?”

Steve chuckles. 

“Fair enough. But I got dibs on the cute backup singer.”

They head over, Steve putting a gentle hand on Bucky’s broad shoulder to slow him to a normal pace. 

“Easy, big guy. Those shots were from the band, not just your favorite singer. They could be from the saxophone player for all we know.” 

They don’t need to announce themselves, usually, due to their large presence, both physically and metaphorically. All four of the women turn when the men approach, easy smiles on both their faces.

“We just wanted to thank you ladies for the shots. You were all great up there.” Steve begins, addressing the group. Bucky can only look at her. 

How can she be even prettier off the stage? 

She’s smaller than he thought. Being on stage makes people look a bit taller, he guesses, but now that she’s perched on a barstool, he looms over her. He smiles politely, praying he looks at the very least like someone close to sanity. His enhanced senses are absolutely drowning in her sweet vanilla perfume. He can see that she used a bit of… what was that, body glitter? Maybe an oil? Something shiny that draws his attention to her delicate collarbones, and then lower, lower… 

His mother would absolutely murder him if she saw him acting so improperly. He collects himself and smiles, nodding after Steve. “Yeah, you were... You were all great up there, really.”

The women smile politely, thanking them.

One of the backup singers, her dark curly hair cut short in a pixie cut, speaks first. 

“Don’t be too thankful for those shots! We drink for free on the nights we sing” She jokes. 

The two men laugh. 

“Guess we better stick close to you tonight then” Bucky jokes back, eyes unintentionally flitting to the lead singer. 

She smiles warmly. 

At him.

“If you know what’s good for you, you sure will.” She teases lightly. 

Bucky thinks he might die. 

Was she flirting? Just joking with them to be polite? Bucky didn’t even care, he only cared that she was talking. Talking to him. 

Or, talking to a group that he was a part of. It didn’t matter to him. 

“Aw, you’re too kind, doll.” He subtly shifts a bit closer to her, fighting his instincts to turn her away from the group, so it can be just the two of them. “You don't have to share with us.” He’s joking, but there’s something genuine behind us. He’s giving her an out. 

“No, no! Please. It’s the least we could do for you boys.” She beams, her smile so dazzling it nearly knocks Bucky on his ass. 

“Really, you two are heroes” another backup singer, the one with long, caramel braids flowing down her back, gushes at them, sipping her martini shyly. 

Bucky and Steve both rub their necks bashfully.

“You flatter us. We should be getting your drinks after that show tonight. But, if you drink for free…” Steve leaves his sentence open ended, a cheeky smile adorning his bearded face. 

Speaking of, the bartender returns with a chilled bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice, paired with a large platter of oysters. 

“Good timing, you two. We can’t finish all this on our own!”, the first backup vocalist, the one who looks a bit like Betty Boop, looks expectantly at Steve and Bucky. 

The two men don’t take much convincing before they pull up seats, each on either end of the group of women. Bucky sits next to his lead singer. They must look ridiculous next to each other, he thinks to himself, as he absolutely dwarfs her. He hopes she doesn’t mind, she’s such a tiny little thing…. 

“So… you like older music? Or, do you only like it when you’re paid to?” He inquires, desperate to speak to her about something. Anything. 

She laughs softly, and oh, god, if he liked her voice, her laugh is just… something else entirely. He’d like to make her laugh forever, he thinks, or at least for the rest of the night. As long as she’ll let him. 

“Oh, I love it! My dad raised me mostly on Frank Sinatra, so anything he’s been near, I’m a pretty big fan of.” 

“Frank, huh? I think I have just about all of his records.”

“No way! I’ve been collecting some of his! I just found a really great Dean Martin one, actually…”

The conversation continued with ease, the only discomfort came from whenever Bucky would have to wrench his gaze away from her lips before she caught on. The bar was closing soon, and even though the band typically is allowed to stay late, all pretty exhausted. Steve, Bucky, and the band all head out together. Bucky thinks he overhears Steve asking for one of the backup singers’ number, the one who looks like Betty Boop, he thinks to himself. It dawns on him that the night is coming to an end. 

“Hey, doll?”

“Hmm?”

She turns to face him, the red glow of the signs in the window illuminating her beautifully. Bucky’s breath catches, but he clears his throat. 

“Let me walk you home.”

“Oh, really, Bucky, you don’t have to-”

“It’s not safe for a lady to be walking alone at night-”

Her giggle, her adorable giggle, cuts him off. 

“I was going to say you don’t have to because I was going to Uber”, she says through a smile.

He falters for a split second.

“...A car, alone, with a strange man? That’s worse!”

“So your solution is that I walk home in the dark, alone, with a strange man?” She counters playfully.

He laughs, surprised.

“A strange Avenger, thank you very much. It’s practically in the job description at this point.”

She rolls her eyes, the discrete tug on the corner of her mouth betraying her as she counters.

“Oh, so you walk women home all the time, then?”

He lets himself feel a bit more confident than usual, mentally blaming the champagne as he leans in closer to whisper, “Only the special ones…”, a daring smile, one that he hadn’t worn since before HYDRA,  breaking across his usually broody demeanor. 

He swears once he gets closer that he can see the tiniest bloom of rosy blush start to form on her cheeks. 

Maybe it’s the cold of the night air. It could be the alcohol as well. But Bucky doesn’t care. Because for the first time in the past 70 years of his life, he feels like himself, like he felt before the war. 

He’ll be damned if he lets the woman that brought him back to that feeling Uber home. 

“C’mon. You said you live on 6th, right? It’s a nice walk that way. Plus, I have a surprise…”

“A surprise? It’s not like, a knife, right? Or a sex dungeon?” she teases, letting him softly lead her across the street, his vibranium hand cool through the thin fabric of her dress, as he gently moves her to the side of the street furthest from the road.

He laughs, surprised at her bold joke. 

“A sex dungeon?” he laughs, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over her small shoulders. The jacket was comically huge on her, practically brushing her knees, but he’d rather her dress be a bit hidden as opposed to her catching a cold. 

“You aren’t denying it!” She quips, trying her best to ignore the warmth his jacket brings her, his cologne filling her nose as she inhales on instinct. Pine overtakes her senses, and… mint, maybe? His toothpaste, perhaps, or a mint he’d popped in before the walk. She wonders if he’d taste like it.

He chuckles, the sound snapping her out of her thoughts, as he returns her teasing smile with a gentle nudge, quickly returning his hand to rest on her waist. Not too low, not too high. His mother would be proud. 

“Well, that would ruin the surprise, wouldn't it?”

“Bucky!” she squeals in surprise, swatting his broad chest, making him break out into laughter as well. 

They make their way, nearing her apartment, when he pulls her across the street, toward a dimly lit storefront. The LED ‘Closed’ sign hanging in the glass display window emitted the only light, spare the streetlamps. 

“Bucky, are you sure this is the place you’re thinking of? Looks extremely closed to me..” she muses, pointing helpfully to the sign in the window. 

He grins. “Don’t you trust me, doll?”, and he places one hand on the doorknob, outstretching the other for her to take.

She narrows her eyes, placing her small, warm hand in his cool metal one. “Not really, no…” she mutters, half serious.

He closes her hand and effortlessly pulls her into the building. The lights, which must be motion-activated, she cleverly deducts, flicker alive, illuminating the room to reveal a cozy, but empty Italian bakery. 

Her mouth falls open, taking in the perfectly decorated pastries that sat tauntingly in the display case. Rainbow cookies, cream puffs, varying cannolis… and she was starving. Those oysters from earlier were long forgotten. 

“Wow… okay, breaking and entering is definitely a great surprise, but are you sure we’re allowed to-?” 

He holds up a hand, still smiling knowingly, and points to the hallway.

Sure enough, a short, portly man emerges. At first, he looks a bit irritated to be bothered at such an hour, but when he sees Bucky’s face, he lights up. 

“Ah, James!” he exclaims, throwing his arms out to wrap Bucky in a hug.

James?

Bucky smiles, a bit red in the face. He introduces the singer as his date for the evening (which, in turn, makes her a bit more red than Bucky). He quickly explains that the man, Sal, owned the bakery, which, despite the sign outside, was actually open 24 hours to friends and family. 

“Friends and family, hmm? Which are you, then?” She muses, trying to see if there are any physical similarities between the two.

“Oh, James is a friend, but he’s basically family at this point.” the cheery old man explains, wrapping her in a friendly hug as well. “And any friend of James is a friend of mine! Come, take whatever you’d like. On the house.”

She turns to Bucky. “On the house, huh?”

He shrugs, the sheepish action not matching his wolflike grin.

“You’re not the only one with connections, you know.”

He looms behind her, bending a bit to be closer to her ear while they peruse the baked goods.

“You’re one cheap date, you know that?”

He snorts at her comment. 

“Yeah, yeah. I hope you’re fine with an Italian bakery, I took a gamble because of the restaurant you sing for, so…”

“Oh, no, I love it! You picked great, Bucky, this is an amazing surprise. You’ll have to help me choose, though… there’s so many options, and if you’ve already been here, I’d love any recommendations you might have.”

He straightens a bit, feeling pride at his ability to steer her in the right direction. They select a few cannolis and are on their way, waving happily with goodies in tow. 

As they cross the street, finishing up the cannolis (best in the city, Sal promised, and he definitely delivered. They were some of the best you’d ever had), she spoke through bites. 

“So… James, huh?”

He smiles a bit. 

“Yeah, James. You didn’t think my actual name was Bucky, did you?”

They laugh, a sense of familiarity enveloping them both as they stroll. Bucky found the confidence to drape an arm over her shoulder, keeping her close as they crossed the street to her apartment. 

For safety, he thought to himself. Just for safety. 

When they arrived under the awning under her apartment, they both paused. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. She glanced away, wary. 

She broke the silence. 

“Thank you for walking me home! And for the cannolis. Sal wasn’t kidding, these are incredible, really.” 

“I’m really glad you liked them. And I’ve said it a million times tonight, but you were incredible on stage. Thank you for letting me walk you home, I had a great time…”

He stepped a bit back, preparing to head off, refusing to overstay his welcome. A small flash of something crossed her eyes. What was it? Disappointment? 

Bucky was screaming at himself to ask for her number, for something, anything, that might result in the continuation of tonight. But his gentlemanly ways demanded that he not push his luck. 

“Well, goodnight, doll.” 

He turned, and made it a single step, cursing himself mentally. 

“Bucky?” she called, nerves plaguing her voice.

He turned to see her, hands clasped to stop herself from doing anything too rash, eyes a bit wider than before.

“...Think you’ll come see us again? The band, I mean?”

Her voice was shy, the shyest he’d heard it all night. Maybe she just wanted to secure customers for the bar, to make sure that her band would be asked back if patrons wanted to see them perform. But Bucky didn’t care. He knew, or he hoped he knew, that this was her masked way of asking to see him again, her thinly veiled questioning of if tonight had gone well, if he was.. Interested.

God, was he interested. 

Was that not how he had come off? 

Well, he can’t have that. 

He stepped closer, gauging her reaction. 

“Oh, definitely. I’d love to see you again.”

Another step. His icy blue eyes darkened in the light, pupils blown wide, raking across her face. 

The blush on her cheeks from earlier had returned. He could write that off as the alcohol, hell, even as makeup. 

But his enhanced senses picked up on other things. 

Like her heartbeat. Pounding in her chest. Yeah, that had absolutely accelerated when he stepped closer.

So he took another, testing the waters. 

“The band, I mean. I wouldn’t miss a show.”

And her heart rate definitely picked up a bit. Was he imagining it?

Her lips parted softly, her words coming out a bit breathy.

“Yeah? You liked the show?”

He could be imagining it, he told himself. He refused to misread this, to blow this opportunity. He would go as slowly as she wanted, until the end of time, if she asked him, if she only let him. 

But he had to see. He had to see if she’d even give him the chance, if he could get away with even just a little flirting, his night would be made, that’s all he needs…

“Oh, I loved it. Good music, great band. And, between me and you, I definitely have a thing for the lead singer.”

His words were playful. His eyes were anything but.

And he took one more step. Close enough to touch. He lifted his arm, the same one that was draped over her mere minutes ago, subtly, to graze her hand with his. Staring down at her, barely constraining himself for just scooping her up in his arms and shoving her against the steel of the elevator in her apartment, and showing her, really showing her just how bad he wanted her, how good he could make her feel, how many times he could make her- 

Her scent was intoxicating, so much so that he could barely think straight. He had been a perfect gentleman thus far (at least in action), and he would be damned if he blew it at the finish line. 

Until she glanced down at his lips. 

It was so fast he almost missed it. 

But nothing gets past Bucky Barnes. 

It was like he could feel a dam break inside him, his resolve slipping fast. 

He let his metal arm wrap around her waist, pulling her body flush against his, slowly. So slowly it was killing him, keeping his eyes locked on hers. He dipped his head down gently, their noses touching, just barely. 

“Can I kiss you, doll?” he murmurs, and if she says no, he thinks, he’ll politely accept, bid her goodnight, and then go run into the nearest busy street he could find. It was New York City, after all, it shouldn't take too long. 

She smiles sweetly, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, she stands on her tippy toes, drawing him a bit closer as she wraps her arms around his neck, their lips ghosting each other.

Fuck it. 

He finally makes his move, gently pressing his lips to hers. It’s slow and gentle, like the whole night has been. She tastes impossibly sweet, like cannolis and champagne. He tastes like sharp mint, she thinks to herself, like she thought he would. She’s soft, so soft and small and warm in his big arms, her hair and lips and body so welcoming, drawing him in, his mind firing in a run-on sentence of more, more, more. 

Quickly, very quickly, he’s getting lost in the kiss. 

Too quickly.

His concepts of chivalry are dissolving in front of him as she melts into him. He keeps one arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer to him, as he snakes the other around the back of her neck, deepening their embrace. She gasps softly into him, and fuck, that does it. 

He’s tried to resist, he really has, but when he hears that pretty noise, when he feels her body react to him, he pulls back without thinking and brings his lips to her jaw, leaving hot, open mouthed kisses trailing down to her collarbone.

Whatever lotion or perfume she put on earlier must be laced with nicotine, because it was seriously egging him on. 

Acting purely on instinct, his hand trails from behind her neck, down her waist, and slowly back up again, softly cupping her breast, drawing a gentle moan from her kiss-puckered lips. 

The sound goes straight through him, but also serves to snap him out of his trance. He realizes quickly what he’s doing, and straightens, absolutely mortified with himself.

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to let it go that far, I’d really like to get to know you more, and take you out properly, I just got carried away-”

He rambles frantically, horrified that he might have lost his one chance with her, until she cuts him off.

“Bucky.”

“...yeah?” he answers tentatively.

“Do you want to come upstairs?”

[societyfolklore]

Dangerous Notes – Part 15

Title: Dangerous Notes – Part 15

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Singer!Female Reader

Fic Summary: Reluctantly agreeing to fill in for her sick friend at a prestigious jazz club, The Armoury, Reader finds herself thrust into a world of old-world glamour and unknown danger. The club’s enigmatic owner, Bucky Barnes, has set his sights on making her a permanent fixture on his stage-and in his life.

Chapter Summary:  You return to The Armory with the weight of the weekend pressing on your chest.

Word Count:  4.5k

Fic Warnings: // Explicit Content // Mature Themes.18+, Minors DNI,Dark Romance, Slow Burn, Possessive/Obsessive behaviour, Violence, Smut (eventually), Emotional manipulation / subtle coercion, Mob activity.  Chapter Warnings:  Implied organized crime violence

A/N: Thank you everyone for patience. Please excuse any mistakes or the slight odd mood of this one. I’m not totally well yet but wanted this out 😊 This hasn’t been as read over as some of the others, so it’s a little… meh.. but its up!  Its up!

You hadn’t touched the bracelet box since you'd put it down.

It sat on your kitchen counter, unopened, as you paced the apartment in silence, Frank’s voice still echoing somewhere in your ribs. You’d snapped at him, driven him out. And for what? For a man who hadn’t even texted you? Who shouted and snarled. A man who sent gifts instead of explanations, a man who made you feel like you were orbiting a gravity too heavy to escape?

The silence in your apartment felt louder after Frank left. The hum of the fridge. The creak in the floorboards. All of it suddenly sharper, more pronounced like the world had moved an inch left and everything was slightly off-kilter.

You hovered near the counter more than once, your fingers brushing the edge of the box but never lifting the lid. You didn’t know what Bucky wanted from you. You didn’t even know what you wanted anymore. Something had shifted. Maybe it had been slowly happening all along.

Or maybe it had cracked wide open the moment Frank looked at you like a stranger and walked out the door.

When the knock came, you jolted. For a second, your heart clawed its way up your throat, convinced it was going to be him. That he’d show up at your door again with that maddening calm and that controlling charm, and the whole cycle would start over.

But it wasn’t his voice that came through the door.

“Little songbird,” Alexei called with warm exasperation. “You keep making me work Sundays. This job was supposed to be part-time.”

You opened the door to find him already grinning, bundled in a bomber jacket, keys swinging from his finger. There was something about him that settled your nerves- not entirely, but enough to breathe.

“They sent you again?” you asked, more incredulous than annoyed.

“Who else? You think Barnes is going to let someone new come collect you after yesterday?” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing with a crooked smirk. “Come on. Get your things.”

You grabbed your coat, slung your purse over one shoulder, then paused.

Your gaze caught on the small gift box, the one you hadn’t planned to take, hadn’t planned to deal with. But your hand moved before your mind caught up, sweeping it into your bag. Just in case.

The drive was quiet.

Alexei didn’t press for conversation. He hummed along with the radio under his breath, some old Russian song that rose and fell like a lullaby. You stared out the window, watching the city smear by in streaks of late-afternoon gold and steel grey.

You weren’t sure if Bucky was going to show tonight. He hadn’t texted. The limbo ate at you, left you feeling tight in the chest. There was always a chance he’d be waiting, expectant, as if nothing had happened the day before. As if your world hadn’t tilted.

You didn’t know what had gone down at the Armory. Not really.

 'It’s between families' that’s what Pietro had said. But you’d seen their faces. That tightness in Sam’s jaw. The flicker in Steve’s eyes. The way Bucky barked to get you out.

Something had been bad enough to rattle them. To put them all on edge. You weren’t stupid. You’d taught long enough to recognize when people tried to shield others from the truth. It made you feel small. Just another pawn being moved around a board you hadn’t agreed to step on. Whatever was going on, it was bigger than what had transpired at the docks. Bigger than what the news had reported.

When you arrived at The Armory, the side entrance wasn’t as deserted as usual.

Alexei was still with you, carrying your garment bag slung over one arm, walking just behind as you stepped into the staff hallway. You hadn’t asked him to, he’d just taken it with a simple, “Let me,” and a flash of metal in his teeth as he smiled. You didn’t argue, not when you saw how many men were posted about the place.

There were men in the halls; three of them loitering near the storage corridor, another two posted by the stairwell. Their presence didn’t feel chaotic like yesterday, but it was still unsettling. Their eyes tracked you, impassive but alert. No one smiled. Their quiet presence gave the space an eerie calm, like a pause between something violent and its aftermath. Interspersed between them were the familiar staff members, moving about with trays or clipboards, keeping their heads down. It was like walking through an over-guarded rabbit warren, people weaving around corners and cutting through doors, pretending this was all normal. But you could feel the weight of it now, the way the walls seemed to press inward, heavy with tension and unspoken things.

You squared your shoulders and walked like someone who belonged, even though every step felt forced. Determined. Like you were stepping into a game you didn’t know the rules of, and everyone else was playing with loaded dice.

Further down, you spotted Pietro and Wanda mid-conversation with an older blonde man you hadn’t seen before. Pietro’s posture was relaxed, hands in his pockets, legs crossed at the ankles in a way that suggested comfort but when he noticed you, his head tilted slightly and he gave you a small smile and a wave. Wanda’s gaze flicked over you too. Not hostile. Just watchful. Like she was reading something in you and filing it away. You returned a faint nod, the weight of their gazes pressing into your spine as you turned into the hallway leading toward your dressing room.

You kept your eyes forward.

You weren’t here to make small talk. You weren’t here to observe anything. You were here because you’d made a decision, not out of fear, not out of obligation, but because if you were going to do this, it was going to be on your own terms. You were going to sing. That was the deal you’d made with yourself.

Alexei followed a few steps behind, still carrying your garment bag. Unbothered by all of it, he moved with that same casual confidence, even as he scanned every face around you both.

When you reached your dressing room door, he passed the items over with exaggerated ceremony and leaned against the frame.

"Here you go- safe and delivered. Now, there’s a bottle with my name on it," he said with a wink, his grin spreading wider. The cheeky charm in his voice tugged a reluctant smile to your lips.

You watched him straighten, already whistling some old familiar tune to himself as he strolled back down the hallway, disappearing around the corner without waiting for a reply.

But as you stepped into the dressing room and shut the door behind you, your fingers brushed against the box inside your bag- and you already knew this wasn’t going to be as simple as you hoped.

This place, this night, it was never just a job. Not anymore. You just had to get through tonight.

The moment you turned shutting the door behind you, the room felt both familiar and foreign. The same warm-toned walls and soft lighting greeted you, but none of it felt comforting now. Instead, the air seemed to cling to your skin- thick, expectant, like it was waiting for something to happen. Something inevitable.

You moved slowly, as though your body wasn’t entirely convinced it wanted to be here. Setting your bag down, the soft thud sounded much louder in the quiet, echoing off the walls like a mark being placed. That’s when your eyes caught it: a full bottle of whiskey resting on the vanity. Still sealed. A smooth black ribbon tied around the neck in a sharp little bow. Another gift.

You sat down at the vanity, letting your fingers brush over the smooth ribbon tied at the bottle’s neck, the fabric whispering under your touch.

 It wasn’t just a bottle. It was a statement, one you could feel even in the silence of the room. There was no note, no card, no explanation. Just the gesture, sitting there like a dare or a line drawn in the sand.

You let out a soft breath, resting your elbows on the edge of the vanity, watching your reflection for a moment.

“Certainly a man of contradictions,” you murmured to the quiet room. It wasn’t clear if the whiskey made your stomach twist with gratitude, or if it sank like a stone of unease. Maybe both. Probably both.

You pulled the small box out from your bag, placing it gently on the vanity. For a long moment, you just stared at it, fingers hovering above the lid, hesitant. You hadn’t looked inside it yet. Whatever was in there, it wasn’t just jewellery. It was a question, a gesture, maybe even a manipulation.

You weren't sure what to do with it. Like if you didn't open it, you could just give it back. What business did you have even accepting something like that?

Sighing, you got back up to pick at the food on the side table, letting your gaze drift between bites toward the box. You hadn’t eaten much today, hadn’t eaten much yesterday either and that wouldn’t do. Not with everything going on.

‘Turmoil was not an excuse for neglect’’ That had been your mother’s mantra, one of many sharp truths she drilled into you: take care of yourself, especially when the world doesn’t. God, what would she think of all this? Of the mess you’d landed yourself in?

"Oh now you're just being silly, open the damn thing..." Your tone was harsh even under your breath, the words half-laugh, half-scolding.

Your fingers hesitated only a moment longer before finally lifting the lid.

Light caught on metal- silver-toned and delicately intricate. The bracelet inside shimmered with a vintage elegance, like something you'd expect to see resting on a velvet pillow behind thick glass in a boutique you couldn’t afford to step inside. It had the kind of quiet, undeniable charm that made your stomach flutter with something unplaceable. Not romantic. Not exactly. But real. It looked like it had history, like it had been chosen with purpose, not plucked at random.

"Oh, hell..." The sight of it pulled something tight in your chest. A thread of tension that was both thrill and warning.

You shouldn’t have worn it. It wasn’t part of the plan.

But your hands moved anyway, lifting it gently from its place. It was heavier than you expected, cool against your skin as you fastened it around your wrist.

You weren’t even sure if you could give it back now or if you should. It felt too loaded, the kind of gesture that came with strings you couldn't quite see yet. Maybe this was about the cancelled date, or about how he’d barked at you the day before. Maybe it wasn’t an apology at all but a calculated move. Did he think this would silence questions, buy back goodwill? That you'd take the silver and fall back in line? The gift said something- something important- you just didn’t know what it meant yet. And maybe that was what unsettled you most.

But with everything you’d seen, the violence that danced beneath the surface of this place, you weren’t sure it was safe to poke the wolf. Not when you were already in the den.

And that was that. Too late to take it back.

You reached for the navy dress at first- your hand hovering over it out of habit. You'd worn it last night, even if he hadn’t been there to see it. But something about that choice felt off now, too obedient, too expected. Instead, you tugged another hanger free: the black one. Simple, familiar. Yours. A dress that made you feel like the decision was yours, not a performance for someone else's expectations.

Still, as you slipped it on and glanced down at the silver now glinting on your wrist, you felt the weight of that contradiction. His gift - clear and striking- stood in stark contrast to the plain lines of your dress. And wasn’t that the point? You were wearing it, even if you tried to pretend it was just to keep the peace. The silence surrounding his expectations felt louder than if he’d barked orders directly.

"Stop overthinking... God, just stop it."

You caught your reflection and sighed, fingers grazing the silver. You knew how the news had framed last night- gunfire at the docks, whispers about territory and tension, warnings layered between every line. The weight of every stare felt magnified now, every step under scrutiny. You didn’t want to stand out. Not now. Just sing. Just get through the night. You’d survived worse. You could survive this. Eggshells, again. Why did it have to feel like this?

You didn’t even hear the door open at first. Just a shift in the air, a flicker of movement in the mirror’s reflection and there he was. All in black. A tailored suit that fit like it had been cut for his sins, no tie, just the open collar of a crisp shirt revealing a hint of his throat. His hair was swept back, sharp and clean, not a strand out of place. He looked like a man who had walked straight out of a noir film, all shadows and silence, elegant and unreadable.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Bucky said, voice low, even.

You weren’t sure either. You still weren’t.

You cleared your throat, searching for neutral ground. "You're not the first client who's yelled at me," you said with a tight smile, half-hearted. "Though you do rank among the more dramatic exits."

He huffed something close to a laugh but didn’t reply. Just looked at you. Really looked at you. The air between you thickened, not quite hostile, but not comfortable either- just heavy with everything unsaid. His gaze dropped to your wrist. Stayed there.

You weren’t sure if that look meant recognition, satisfaction, or something else entirely. It was like he was seeing a decision you hadn’t realized you’d made. Your breath caught as you tried to hold his gaze in the mirror, but it was hard, like staring at a flame and pretending it didn’t burn.

“Thanks for the bracelet,” you murmured, unable to hold the silence any longer. It came out softer than you meant it, like you were admitting something instead of offering gratitude. "It’s... a lot."

He nodded once, slowly. "Looks good on you."

It was a simple compliment, but something about it made the floor shift slightly beneath your feet. There was no smirk this time, no challenge in his voice. Just something... almost quiet. Present. Unshaped. Like he was offering something he didn’t quite know how to say.

You swallowed. The silence wasn’t angry now, it was dense with possibility.

He shifted slightly, as if he was about to say more, and for a second you thought maybe, finally, he was going to explain. Apologize. Something. But instead he looked away.

"It was a bad moment," he said quietly, voice low and close to something real. "There was a lot going on."

You just nodded. It wasn’t your place to tell someone like him anything about pressure or priorities.

"Busy time, the news-" you offered, but the words felt too casual, and something in his expression sharpened, just a flicker. You trailed off. "I didn’t mean it like that. I just... I understand why you were short. Why you couldn't do lunch.."

He didn’t respond, but the look softened again. Not warmth, not exactly. But not cold either. Something shifted in him, small, but present.

You rushed to fill the silence, nerves taking over.

"I mean, I don’t expect- like, I didn’t think you’d show up or anything, it’s not like we had real plans. I just... I didn’t want to be mad if there was a reason. And it seems like there was. A real one. Bigger than me."

He looked at you for a moment longer, then gave the faintest nod. "It’s never just one thing."

You weren’t sure if he meant you, or the city, or the weight of what he carried.

Your fingers curled instinctively around the bracelet. "Even as far as apology gifts go," you said softly, "it’s more than I expected. Not that I expected anything from you."

Bucky’s gaze dropped back to your wrist. "I don’t like breaking promises," he said simply. "And I did say we’d have lunch."

Threat? Promise? Apparently, with him, they were one and the same.

But just as he turned, he paused his hand resting briefly on the edge of the door frame fingers curling against the wood as if to anchor himself.

"I know this... isn’t what you signed up for," he said, voice quieter now, more human. "I don’t expect you to understand it all. Just... ."

You blinked, startled by the honesty, by the faint strain in his voice- like the words had cost him something. "I'm sorry I missed lunch. I was looking forward to it." He didn’t move closer. Didn’t push. And that restraint, that strange, careful stillness. It undid you more than any command ever could.

Your fingers twisted around the bracelet without thinking. "Another time." You just got out quietly, kicking yourself for agreeing to 'raincheck' a date you'd never wanted. One he'd used his leverage to get in the first place.

Bucky nodded, his fingers tapping once against the doorframe. "Enjoy tonight. I know I'm going too."

"Thanks," you replied quietly, unsure what to do with the warmth that sparked in your chest.

When he finally turned and left, your throat stayed tight, your hands frozen in your lap. You didn’t call out. You didn’t stop him. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look back at the door, until he was gone. Only then did you glance over your shoulder, the space where he'd stood now just empty air and quiet echo. You wondered if the silence would linger like perfume, if the soft click of the door would be something you'd hear in your dreams. The room felt different now. Like it remembered him, too.

And when it shut behind him, the ache bloomed fully. Not sharp- but low, echoing. A hollow throb deep in your ribs. You stared at your reflection, seeing someone you didn’t entirely recognize. Someone who wore gifts from men like him. Someone who missed him before he’d even vanished down the hall.

The bracelet caught the light again. It shimmered in the mirror like it was trying to speak for him.  You weren’t sure what it meant, and maybe you didn’t want to admit how much you cared. But there it was, glinting silver and sure, when nothing else felt that way.

All you knew was that part of you- against all reason, against every good sense you’d ever had- was already hoping he’d come back.

By the time you stepped onto the floor of The Armory, it felt more like an event than a night of music. The room was fuller than usual, golden light blooming across lacquered wood and low-set tables. Conversation buzzed under the music that piped from hidden speakers. Laughter too. The walls hummed with life again, though there was still something simmering beneath it all- a pressure, not quite gone.

Because you knew better now, you noticed. Just like the men who had been stationed in the backstage halls, they were scattered about the main floor too; one by the bar, another posted near the coat check, others sitting at tables but never really relaxing. They weren’t patrons, not really. They were eyes, ears, weight behind smiles. Under the glamour, you could feel the steel. It was becoming clear why the place was called The Armory.

At the back table Bucky sat with his usual crew. Steve beside him, broad-shouldered and silent. Sam on the other side, expression unreadable but watchful. But it was the redhead next to Bucky who drew your attention and held it.

Her hair was flame-bright, twisted into an elegant bun. She looked relaxed at first glance, one arm resting on the table, but her eyes told a different story. They swept the room like scanning lasers, clinical, calculating. The kind of stare that logged exits and threats, not wine lists.

She leaned in to say something to Bucky, her lips barely moving. Whatever it was, it made him smirk; shoulders loosening just enough to notice. Something about the set of his body said he was steadier tonight. Not exactly relaxed, but less braced for violence.

You couldn’t help but wonder who she was. Not just to him, but in the ecosystem of this place. No one else at that table got his full attention when they spoke. Not like that.

Staff moved around the room with their usual elegance, but you noticed the way their eyes still swept each entrance. Calm now. Watchful. Like they were waiting for a signal that wouldn’t come.

You lingered in the wings for a moment. Pietro was already at the piano, his jacket still on, sleeves rolled to the elbow. He didn’t look up, but you saw his fingers flex once before he began to play. Same tempo as always. The same soft lift. Familiar and grounding.

You stepped into the light.

You didn’t look at the crowd. You didn’t try to find Bucky. You let the music be the anchor.

The first note left your lips like it didn’t belong to you. It wasn’t perfect. But it was steady. Controlled.

Then the next came. Stronger. Each breath another layer pulled free.

You weren’t singing for anyone. Just for yourself. And maybe that’s why it came out with that strange mix of raw and calm. As if your soul had decided to be honest, but your body still remembered how to be composed.

And through it all, the bracelet stayed cool and firm against your skin.

Applause came like it always did. But this time it didn’t settle over your skin the same way. It passed through you.

Pietro gave you a wink that had you feeling easier. Though you shouldn't of, you gave him a small smile. He returned it but didn’t say much. Just a quiet little nod. Still hadn’t taken off that jacket as you just gave the band a small wave and headed off.

You went back to the dressing room, letting the hush of the backstage corridors swallow you whole. It was quieter than usual, the kind of quiet that echoed, like an empty church after midnight. You tried to settle, but the tension from earlier hadn’t faded. Instead, it clung to the air, thick and strange. You could still feel the residue of everything- Bucky’s visit, your performance, the redhead’s watchful eyes, all of it stacked inside your chest.

You didn’t even remember getting changed. You’d moved on muscle memory alone, slipping out of your dress and packing your things. The whiskey bottle now tucked in your bag, untouched. Your items gathered. Just waiting. Alexei had said he'd be taking you home, and a part of you clung to that. It felt like a lifeline, some small, stable thing in a place that still felt unstable.

But the waiting scraped at your nerves. The longer you sat there, the more it felt like the walls were pressing inward. As if the quiet wasn’t natural, but forced- strained by something unspoken. You kept glancing toward the door like it might open on its own, or someone would knock with news you weren’t ready to hear.

Then a knock.

You jumped slightly. The door creaked open, and Wanda stepped inside, her expression softer than expected. Something in her eyes was kind, even if a little tired. There was a warmth in the way she looked at you- familiar and protective. Behind her, that older blonde man lingered in the hallway again- his gaze sharp, still sweeping the corridor like a soldier stuck on duty. Watching everything. Guarding nothing and everything at once.

"Your ride's ready sweetie," Wanda said, her voice gentler this time. "- said he’d meet you at the side door, so you didn’t have to go back out again."

You nodded, already reaching for your coat, something about the warmth in her tone grounding you just a little. Her kindness hit something you hadn’t expected- made your throat tighten just a little.

The SUV was waiting in the same spot as always. Black. Solid. The kind of quiet presence that said it belonged without needing to announce itself.

Alexei was already at the driver’s side, one hand resting casually on the openrear door. He gave you a nod as you climbed in.

"You were good tonight," he said once you were inside.

You didn’t answer right away. You just buckled in and stared out the window. The streets moved past like slow watercolor. The world outside looked blurry somehow, even though your eyes weren’t wet.

He put something on- soft music, older than either of you. Russian again. Almost mournful. But it filled the silence without pressing on it.

Your fingers curled in your lap. You turned your head just slightly, looking back through the window one last time as the SUV turned a corner.

The Armory glowed gold and shadowed in the distance, like a jewel box left open too long, spilling secrets under its lacquered lid, ghosts of glamour and danger mingling like smoke.

You thought about Bucky up in his office, maybe unbuttoning that sharp jacket, leaning back in a chair surrounded by people who understood him. Maybe that redhead beside him, whoever she was- laughed a little louder when no one else was around. Maybe they all sat around some nights once the civilians had gone home, sipping expensive liquor, trading stories they’d never write down. Or maybe they didn’t speak at all, maybe the quiet between them was the kind that only came from shared knowledge and trust. The kind of silence that meant safety, not distance.

You could almost hear the noise, imagine the flicker of low light, the clink of ice in heavy-bottomed glasses. Picture the real smile he might wear at home, somewhere far from eyes. What he might sound like when he wasn’t in charge of anything. If he ever let himself stop performing.

You sighed softly and turned your head, letting your gaze drift to the window instead of watching The Armory disappear behind you. The lights of the city were smeared across the glass, and your reflection blinked back at you, tired, quiet, uncertain.

Tomorrow was Monday. School. Your real life. The part that didn’t involve late-night performances under golden lights or cryptic gifts wrapped in ribbon. It had nothing to do with smoky lounges or the man whose silence still echoed louder than words. The man you weren’t supposed to think about- but did anyway. You didn’t know what was worse- wanting to see the version of him that might exist in quiet rooms, or fearing you already had, and that it had changed something in you. Something you couldn’t name yet, only feel tightening in your chest as the car rolled onward into the dark.

TAGS @mrsnikstan @sassybearfire @calwitch @ruexj283 @yesiamthatwierd @trojanaurora @hextech-bros

[novelistwriter]

Out of Sync

DP x DC Prompt

Halfa Biology is so much more complex than what is believed. The Mortal and the Ghost sides are two separate entities. In order to become a "True Halfa," both Mortal and Ghost sides must align with each other.

During the portal incident, Danny was sucked into the portal and into the Infinite Realms/Ghost Zone, but as Phantom, an all black Ghost with a permanent Ghost Tail and stars littered across his body, piercing green eyes, flowing white hair, and a mouth that's large when he fully opens it, which also has sharp teeth.

Phantom, as he named himself, lived in the Infinite Realms/Ghost Zone for a few years, thinking that their a full ghost when they were suddenly pulled into a portal that wasn't natural. Phantom had popped back out of the Fenton Portal after Jazz, Sam, and Tucker turned it back on, years later. They turned it on so they could see if Danny had become a Ghost.

Phantom does spend time with Jazz, Sam, and Tucker, not knowing them, but happy to make new friends.

The entirety of the Danny Phantom Canon happens, but without the Fenton Parents, they've moved out of Amity when they learned what happened to Danny. Jazz, Sam, and Tucker are adults, same with the rest of Danny's class, and without "The Ultimate Enemy" happening. Phantom has also inherited the Ghost King title because Vlad Plasmius opened the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep to gain more power.

And then the GIW came, with Fenton Tech they got from Jack and Maddie, Jazz had a hard drive with the tech on it. The GIW had easily captured Vlad Plasmius and ended them. They captured Phantom, but before anything could be done to Phantom, he was saved by Jazz, Sam, and Tucker and sent through the portal back at the old Fentonworks building.

And then Phantom is immediately sent through a natural portal that spits him out in Gotham.

Phantom then makes friends with all of the Batfam members. It takes a while to befriend all of them, as the stabby Robin and Brooding Batdad are the most difficult to befriend out of all of them.

And then something happens that turns Phantom back into Danny, who is still 14, and doesn't know what happened and where he is.

[389]

Sonic Tapestry 2023: A Year In Selections (Top 25 Albums)

Album's include Ambient, Experimental, Jungle, DnB, House, Electro, Breakbeats, Breaks, UK Bass, Deconstructed Club, Garage, Glitch, IDM, Braindance

Overmono - Good Lies [XL Recordings] 

Lazarus - Mimoto [YUKU]

Stone Carrier - Sky Above [To Pikap Records]

Aroma Nice - Lost Realms [YUKU]

Trees Speak - Mind Maze [Soul Jazz Records]

Beta Librae - Daystar [Incienso]

Sam Goku - The Things We See When We Look Closer [Permanent Vacation]

Gacha Bakradze - Pancakes [Lapsus Records]

Meemo Comma - Loverboy [Planet Mu]

Lyra Valenza - Low Gear No Pressure [Petrola 80]

Bobo - Contact [Erbium Records]

Maara - The Ancient Truth [Step Ball Chain]

Iro Aka - Planet Earth [Hivern Discs]

Zoë Mc Pherson - Pitch Blender [SFX]

Christian Coiffere - Lookbook 2021-2023 [Comic Sans Records]

Otik - Cosmosis [3024]

Tamo Hesselink - Beam [Nous'klaer Audio]

Wrecked Lightships - Oceans and Seas [Midnight Shift]

Ayesha - Rhythm is a Memory [Kindergarten Records]

Blinded By Science - 8205FR001 [Future Retro London]

Geyera - LIMBO [Polygon Records]

Adam Pits - Synthetic Serenity [On Rotation]

CRRDR - Latinx Core [CRRDR]

Poly Chain - Fairy Disco [Mystrictrax]

Autumn - Still In The Thick Of It [Antibody]

[five-rivers]

hmm soft body horror and Danny Phantom, I've been on a The Magnus Archives kick lately. There is a interesting trope in that fandom where eyes first start appearing where scars are. Danny getting wounds that manifest into wings or eyes or heal back permanently in a different, more monstrous way maybe? His human body breaking apart to reveal what he really is underneath like a cocoon.

Jazz insists on examining your wounds, after you've gotten a 'major' injury.

You don't exactly begrudge her this. You know you'd be the same way if she got hurt. She is your sister. But your definitions of 'major injury aren't the same. You don't begrudge that, either. Your definitions have to be different, when one of you can walk off a stabbing and the other is, well, human.

But it can get annoying. Like now. Jazz wasn't there when Sam bandaged you up - and you did need those bandages, this time - but she insists on being there when you take them off. You wonder - Does Jazz like seeing your stupid Florida-shaped birthmark so much? If so, you'll print out a picture of Florida and paste it to her wall.

You might say that out loud, because Jazz tells you to shut up and let her see, so she can make sure you're not getting sepsis or some equally horrible ghost disease.

And-- You do, even though you roll your eyes while doing it. You go ghost and unzip your jumpsuit before peeling your way out of it like a banana. The bandages are still where Sam put them, wrapped around your torso and upper arms.

Most of the injuries are on your back. The ghost opened the fight with a powerful slash and put you through several buildings. That's not getting into how you threw yourself in front of a group of unfortunate, trapped civilians. Multiple times.

You will admit, that was a bad fight. Violent. The ghost was vicious, and not one you were familiar with.

You find the end of the bandage and undo the clips Sam used to hold them in place before starting to unwind it. You go slowly, at first, to mess with Jazz, but this is boring to you, too, and you start to go faster. Finally, with all of them (and the cotton pads they'd held down) off, you roll them up around your fingers, and ask, "So? Am I intact? Clean bill of health?"

Jazz doesn't answer, and you turn around to see her staring, pale.

"Jazz? What is it?" you ask. She's been pretty good about things like this, all things considered. Not squeamish at all.

She points to your shoulder. You look. At first, all you notice is that the cuts there haven't healed as much as you thought, even though they aren't at all painful. The second thing you notice is the feathers. They are growing from the wound, soft, downy, black things.

You run your hands over first your shoulder, then your back, and twist to see your back as best you can. There are many of them, a whole, thick mat. Where your wounds were especially severe, a few longer, thicker feathers stick out.

Part of you wants to start tearing them out. Another part knows that would be unfathomably painful.

"Where," says Jazz, strained, "did those come from?"

You'd like to know the answer to that question yourself. You shrug, and your whole back spasms, as if there was supposed to be something more to the motion.

Suddenly, you are concerned with a different question. Not 'Where did they come from?' but, 'What else will happen?'