#Jazz could have any number of parents if you want | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

formulaforza · 9 months

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💐 hi my wonderful birthday girl !! so i was thinking about a dress coded lewis blurb (because i was born a lewis and ts girl) where they just get drunk together and there’s teases flying and stuff. keep it as brief as u wish <333

—you can take it off

lewis hamilton x merc!reader summ. thank you stephy i love u bad <3 inspo from... ur never gonna believe it... this. hope it's up to your standards my love. 2.7k (kind of got out of hand)

You were half-asleep and half-drunk the night of the Belgium Grand Prix. The air was cool, recycled like all air seems to be in hotels, smelled of too-strong perfume and was filled with the dull noise of elevator jazz. What had begun as a before-we-go-to-bed night cap in the hotel bar with Bono had turned into a seemingly never ending addition of guests.

Valtteri was first to join—never could pass up the opportunity to give you shit, to offer you job postings at Alfa Romeo that weren’t job postings at all—and with him around, there’s no casual drinking. You don’t try to keep up, not really, because you know you don’t stand a chance, but also because he would never let you. After all these years of being just a few months younger than him, he still calls you kiddo, still promises to call your parents when you’re out after dark, and always sends you a text after a race with some… questionable strategy decisions you’re catching flack for online.

A brief appearance from Toto and Susie, just long enough for them to know they had no business trying to go drink for drink with Valtteri, and then they’re wishing all three of you a wonderful summer break and retreating to whatever room is considered prestige enough for Motorsport’s it-couple.

And then there was Lewis, the last to arrive, who never called you kid, who never viewed you as one. He sits adjacent you in the red, high back leather booth and takes up a seat and a half, the toe of his shoe brushing against the side of yours, flashing you apologetic puppy dog eyes every time he bumps against yours.

It’s somewhere between drink number five and six that Lewis gets his first, insists on a toast to the summer break that officially began… six hours and fifty-three minutes ago. For a long season this and a too-short summer break that, you lot had a mouthful of things to complain about, but a million more to be grateful for. “To not having work for a month,” Lewis proposes, clinking his glass against yours, offering a quick wink and holding it up properly over the table.

“To no racing-talk for a few weeks,” Bono adds, clinking his glass against Lewis’.

“To summer-fucking-break,” Valtteri chimes in, laughing at himself before the rest of you get the chance to match it.

“To summer fucking break,” you repeat because you know there’s no better way to sum it all up.

Unlike the other two, you slowed down when Lewis joined, wanted to give him time to catch up, to give yourself time to meet him somewhere in the middle. A glass of water and a virgin rum and coke and another water and the night is still young.

“First summer break as the big boss, kiddo,” Valtteri remarks, and you have to squint to hear him through the alcohol-induced thickening of his accent.

“That’s right!” Bono laughs. Your cheeks run hot at their mention of your title, of your promotion following James’ departure earlier in the season. Lewis smiles against the rim of his glass, bumps his foot against yours and doesn’t give you apologetic eyes. No, he raises his brows so slightly you think you’re the only one that notices, which is probably exactly the way he intended it to be. “Little miss queen of strategy is making the big money now, got any big travel plans?”

Lewis clears his throat, and your eyes dart over to his almost instinctively. “You’re staying in London, yeah?”

He’s right. Your summer-break plans consist of four weeks of trying to remember what it feels like to do nothing, failing at that task pathetically, and spending the rest of the time meticulously picking apart every call you’ve made all season and imagining the million and one things you could’ve done differently and their billion and two outcomes.

You pick apart the drink napkin, tear it into tiny little pieces. “Yeah, yeah. Just staying home, catching up with friends and family,” you clarify, try not to sound as pathetic as you feel. It’s hard not to when you’re sitting next to the guy who spends his offseason snowboarding in Antarctica with his celebrity friends and his weeks off traveling to Paris fashion week for front row seats next to supermodels. Anything you say would sound pathetic to someone who makes thirty-five million a year.

“I love it,” he nods, stares right through you and into your soul so you know he’s being genuine. “That’s awesome.”

You nod, swallow hard, purposely angle your body away from his, to the rest of the group. “What about you guys?”

Lewis laughs, soft, quiet, completely under his breath. The kind of laugh that deserves to be bottled into a jar and kept on a shelf for safe keeping. You know he’s always laughed like that, even before he knew you, but in the last few months it just feels different. Good different, like he’s laughing just for you now instead of everyone else too.

You know you’re crazy, that he’s just Lewis being Lewis and you’re just single for the first time in a long time and also drunk. Not half drunk anymore, just drunk—even if you do think you’re meeting him in the middle, you’re not. He’s just chasing after.

“Back home, too,” Bono concludes. “Take a breather, might head up to the country with the family.”

“You’ll take pictures, yeah?” Lewis asks, starts to pick up the pieces of your napkin tear pile and move them in front of him like a kid who isn’t patient enough to share or destructive enough to rip up his own. You watch in your peripheral, the way he fiddles with the wet paper, gets it stuck to his fingertips. You can’t laugh, so you don’t, but you want to. You think he knows you want to.

Bono scoffs, nods while swallowing a sip of his drink—something dark, something pungent. Not what you would have pegged him for ordering, even after knowing him as long as you have. “So I can compare with the likes of you lot and,” he turns to Lewis, leers around you to emphasize the eyeline, “your million dollar vacations or,” and then the other way, back to Valtteri, “your olympic cycling events?”

Valtteri smiles, swirls his drink—gin, you think. Expensive. “Yes.”

“No chance.”

“I’ll be sure to send you a picture of me having a meltdown when I think about our side pods from the beginning of the year,” you chime in, because it’s not like they all don’t know you well enough to know exactly what you mean by spending time with friends and family at home.

“What sidepods?” Lewis chuckles.

“Fucking exactly,” you add, mirror his mannerisms without even realizing it, all the way down to readjusting in your seat when you’ve had your laugh.

“Could be worse,” Bono offers. “Could be last year.”

Lewis nods, holds his drink up in the direction of Valtteri across the table. “We never should have let you leave.”

He smiles, weak, lips pursed. “I could have told you that.”

The night continues on, all drinks and laughs and yawns, occasional remarks that it’s about time I head up, followed by another round, another joke, another comment about this, that, or the other thing.

You’ve always liked Lewis when he’s a little tipsy. He lightens up a bit, you can actually watch the stress drip from him like sweat, all the titles and the wins and the losses, they all just fall away when he’s relaxed like this. You’ve always liked him like this. Always. Before he was king of the world and before he was the prodigal son and every moment in between.

After every joke he makes—or, after every comment he makes that he thinks could be considered a joke—you find yourself laughing, because it’s Lewis and you have a crush on him and of course you do. And, without fail, everytime you laugh, he winks, like you’re in on some inside joke even though he’s making it to the whole table, like there’s some double meaning to all of his words that are meant just for you, just for the two of you to understand.

Somewhere in it all, it comes back to Lewis, because, well, it always does. “Is your back still bothering you?” Bono asks, and you think you already know the answer. You think you know, because you can’t remember the last time you;d seen him take careful consideration of his posture when he sits. Not even now is he sitting up straight, with his legs perfectly spread a shoulder’s width apart and his feet flat on the floor. Instead, he’s taking up more room than he needs to, all relaxed and comfortable on the leather booth bench.

He swipes his thumb over the condensation of his glass, looking up from the action at you, and then to Bono. “No, no. All good there.”

“All good?” Bono prods, because he was on the receiving end of a year and a half of complaints from Lewis.

Lewis nods, clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “No Paracetamol in a month.”

Across the table, Valterri chimes in. “None?”

“None for my back,” Lewis says, and the whole table laughs. You just watch him, though, because who laughs better than he does? You could wax poetic about it without a second thought, the way that his lips upturn and his cheeks round and his eyes crinkle and go soft in a way that makes you feel like you’re the funniest person in the world even when you’re not making a joke. The way that his smile is brighter than anyone’s you’ve ever seen, and the way that if you look at it for too long, you think about how it would feel to run your finger along the gap in his teeth.

“That’s what I thought,” Valtteri mutters off the end of his laugh. “You're getting old.”

“Not too old to make half a million.”

The entire table’s heads fly to him. You gasp, an embarrassingly wide smile on your face. “You didn’t!” You almost yell, smacking his upper arm with a weak hand.

He mocks your gasp, makes it somehow more dramatic and over the top and laughs sweetly, shrugging your hand off his arm and letting his hand fall to your leg, bumping your foot with his again. “I didn’t.” The table chuckles, you pout, and then you realize that his hand is on your thigh, that it’s staying there quite comfortably, and that you mind it less than he does.

“Don’t be a tease,” you sigh, take a swig of your drink. Your knees are suddenly weak, like you know you wouldn’t be able to stand up if you wanted to. It’s like he can sense your change but can’t quite read it, because then he’s moving his hand back to his own lap, interlocking it with the other and resting it there.

He nods, suddenly shy, suddenly guilty. “It’s as good as done.”

Valtteri laughs. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.” You hear what he says, but you’re not listening, not really. Lewis stares into you like he wants to look anywhere else—apologetic eyes and a fear he’s taken a misstep. He hasn’t, you want to tell him. You haven’t, put your hand back, please. Silently, you try to convey what shouldn’t dare be spoken. “I’ll believe it when pen is on paper.”

He snaps his eyes away from you, back to Valtteri. You don’t follow suit, stay fixed on him, on trying— hard—to get your message across. “I’m telling you, they’re announcing it after the summer break.”

“Whatever you say, Mate.”

Bono nods around a mouthful of alcohol, sets his half-empty glass down with an incidental thud. “Who’s to say we still want your geriatric ass?”

Lewis raised his interlocked hands from his lap, to the tabletop, resting his elbows on the wood grain and rattling the empty glasses when he does it. He leans in towards the center of the table, even though the only person separating him and Bono is you. “Would you tell Schumacher ‘no?’”

“What was that?” You ask, your words a convenient excuse to lean in closer, to settle into a spot that much closer to him without raising any brows. To brace for the shift, you leave your hand on his thigh with less subtly than your original movement, but it’s okay. It’s okay—only Lewis knows where your hands are, and you don’t want it to be subtle, don’t want anything to be lost in translation. “I can’t hear you over your ego,” you smile, and your fingers dance up his leg just a few, careful inches.

He drops back into his seat, drops his hands back into his lap. Under the table, he grabs yours and laughs, but it’s stifled, stunted, not quite relaxed. “Very funny,” he humors, and moves your hand back. His stays too, though, and he crosses one leg over the other under the table. His thumb moves over the fabric of your slacks in shudder-worthy circles.

“Someone’s gotta check you,” you smile, nod in the direction of your tablemates without ever looking away from him. “These two won’t.”

Bono scoffs.“Are you kidding?”

Your smile grows. “How do you want me to answer that, Peter?”

“Damn,” Lewis laughs so hard he coughs. “She Peter-ed you. That’s cold.”

“You’re the one comparing yourself to Michael fucking Schumacher,” Bono scolds.

“I didn’t say that, but,”

“But!” You interject.

“But,” Lewis laughs, threatens to continue even though all at the table know he won’t, knows that no matter how often the media and the girlfriends and the friends and the family tell him he should put himself up there with the greatest, he’ll never quite see himself in the same light. “But it’s about time I head up, I think.”

“Ah, see,” Valtteri chuckles. “Old man Hamilton can’t hang.”

“No, he can not,” Lewis remarks, pulling his phone and his hotel keycard from his pocket, setting the latter on the table and if you were feeling a little crazier than you are, you’d swear he nudges it ever so slightly out of his bubble and into yours. He types away rapidly at his phone, and you try to pay attention to the jokes Bono and Valtteri throw around, the pokes at Lewis they make, but suddenly you’re feeling like it’s a good time to head up, too. You try to shake the crazy, to leave it with your backwash in the final sip of your drink, and you do. You do.

You do, but then he’s slipping his phone back into his pocket. He’s leaving his glass just beyond his keycard and telling you to feel free to finish it. He’s saying his goodbyes while he moves out of the booth and his hotel room key is still sat on the table next to you. It stares at you—the hard, thin plastic. Stares at you in its white paper pocket with the intricate printing of the hotel label and dares you to look at him when he walks away.

You do, begrudgingly, subtly, and his eyes are already on yours. They’re expressionless, and yet, say so fucking much. You hold the remainder of his drink in his direction before downing it in a single gulp and then he winks at you. He looks at his keycard on the table, and then to you, and then he winks, and you’re sure you’re absolutely crazy.

You swallow.

“Oh, fuck,” Bono says, reaches over you to grab the keycard from the table. It’s like you were zoned out and he snapped in front of your face, the way it pulls you from Lewis to the table. “He forgot his key.”

“Oh,” you squeak, and then louder, “I can take it to him.”

“No, no, It’s okay,” Bono says, and he makes you stand up to get out of the booth. “I should be heading up anyway.”

“Really,” you half-insist, trying to convince him you can handle it without letting him in on why you’re convincing him. “It’s no problem.”

Bono pulls out his wallet, flips through the pockets of it and fiddles with his bills. “Our rooms are right by each other,” he insists, tosses his share onto the table. “I got it.”

“Okay,” you nod, accept your defeat. “Yeah, I should be heading up, too, I guess.”

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halfagone · 7 months

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Is it Canon or Fanon?

A little over a week ago, I received a very thought-provoking ask that wondered whether the Fenton parents could be considered good parents after everything they've done throughout the show. I did leave a response to that ask, and you can find the original answer here. But even afterwards, it had me thinking:

Why did we start depicting Jack and Maddie as Bad Parents to begin with?

I aim to answer this question through canon evidence to see where this argument might have come from. Now, something to keep in mind is that we still tend to ignore canon a lot of the time, so there may be some people who won't take this meta to mean all that much anyways. But for the purpose of fanfiction, we have to acknowledge that there needs to be an in-universe explanation to these events and sadly, the 'it's a Butch Hartman show' or 'it's an early 2000s cartoon' excuses don't really cut it.

So let's start with some basic stats. There are 49 episodes to the Danny Phantom cartoon (we will not be using the Graphic Novel, A Glitch in Time, for examples); 20 for the first season, 17 for the second, and 12 for the third. If you looked this up on Google, you might notice that these numbers don't line up with the episode list provided. This is because I counted any two-part episodes as one for convenience's sake. Season 2 has three two-parters: "Reign Storm", "The Ultimate Enemy", and "Reality Trip". Season 3 has "Phantom Planet".

Jack appears for 43 of those episodes, although he does not have any speaking lines in the episode, "Frightmare". Maddie, on the other hand, appears in 40 episodes. The three episodes that Maddie does not appear in, but Jack does, are as follows: "Memory Blank", "Flirting With Disaster", and "Double Cross My Heart".

Let's Start with Season 1:

"Mystery Meat": Jack is shown as dismissive to Danny and his friends' preferences, telling them, "True, I've never seen a ghost, but when I do, I'll be prepared. And so will you, whether you want to be or not." Later on, when Sam and Tucker are visibly shaking and Danny is panting from exhaustion, he doesn't realize something is off about this. When Jazz offers to drive Danny to school, the Fenton parents quickly assume that she's a ghost and go off to track them down... even despite her previous argument that she was mentally an adult (should I be concerned that Jazz called Danny an 'abused, unwanted wretch' to make a point to their parents?) A POINT TO MADDIE, she worried about hurting Jazz if she really wasn't a ghost but Jack quickly dismisses that, as their ghost-hunting device only hurts when gets into human hair (spoiler alert, it gets into Jazz's hair). She also insists that Danny is not a ghost, but unfortunately she ultimately doesn't try to stop Jack when he insist Jazz is a ghost. Standing aside and letting abuse play out does not mean Maddie is innocent of hurting her daughter too.

"Fanning the Flames": When Jazz and Danny are struggling to study for an upcoming test, Jack decides that they should put their kids into the 'Fenton Stockades' which is basically an iron maiden. And yes, the Fentons have an entire floor that is meant to torture people. I feel like that should probably be addressed at some point. A POINT TO MADDIE, she stood her ground and refused to let him put their children inside, and even locks him inside instead.

"Teacher of the Year": After hearing displeasing news about the state of Danny's grades in a parent-teacher conference, Maddie lectures Danny by saying, "Get this straight Danny. You're a Fenton. Fentons get As. Or in your father's case, B minuses." Before this, when Danny tried to explain himself, Jack shuts him up with, "Now that's enough of your sass talk mister." Do a lot of parents act like this? Yes. Does that make this a good, conductive way to help your child improve their grades? No, it does not. In fact, Maddie's response in particular probably reinforces the idea that Danny doesn't fit in with the rest of his family and further proves that Jazz is the favorite child. Not a great parenting moment.

"Fright Knight": In this episode, Jack tells Danny, "If I didn't consider it a sign of weakness, I'd weep with joy!" Not a very promising sign when a parent tells their child that it's wrong to show emotion. It's especially telling, however, when it's crying from joy and not even sadness. Yikes.

"13": This is the episode where Jazz 'dates' Johnny briefly, and we see Danny stalking them on their dates. I've seen people give Danny a decent amount of flack for that as well, so this would be a good time to say that the Fenton parents were there too and even encouraged him to keep stalking his sister. Danny was wrong to ignore Jazz's privacy like that, but he definitely learned it somewhere.

"Public Enemies": Here we see more of the Fenton parents' aggression towards ghosts. We get a line from Jack: "I'm gonna tear that ghost kid apart into a million different-" Notice something here? He recognizes that Phantom is a ghost 'kid' and yet still fully intends to shoot at him with the intent to hurt if not straight-up kill him. The only time Maddie disagrees with him is to insist that she does the dirty work because she has better aim than him. These are not the type of people you should let children stay with.

"Maternal Instincts": Okay, I gotta say it, this is a really cute episode. We get to see Maddie reminiscing over how close she and Danny used to be and wishing they had that bond again. Unfortunately she does get some points docked off for deciding what they should do as a bonding activity instesd of asking what Danny wanted to do and maybe learning more about his interests and who he is as a person now that he's a teenager. But there is this really sweet moment where Maddie tells Danny 'I love you' at the campsite which absolutely melted my heart and then later on when she saves Danny from the ghosts, Danny tells her she's awesome and gives her a hug. So sweet. But then she kinda ruins it by asking her son to act as a distraction and- Please do not ask your teenage children to keep skeevy old guys 'entertained' when you know he's a creep. A POINT TO JACK, while all this is going on he's defending his daughter and even shouts, "Back off, she's a minor!" That's some Dr. Doofenshmirtz energy right there, I respect it. He also talks about making Jazz an action figure, which was a really cute moment amidst the chaos.

"The Million Dollar Ghost": This episode is filled with some great Danny-Jack bonding moments and goes to show how much Danny cares about his father that he's willing to get caught to make Jack feel better about himself. We also get to see how much Jack cares about how Danny views him and he wants to be someone in Danny's eyes. Unfortunately, this is the episode where Danny gets lectured for not doing all his lab chores, such as cleaning the beakers and changing the ecto-filtrator- despite knowing that the portal could blow up if they don't change in time and knowing that Danny is bad at cleaning his own room. And we literally get a scene where Jack knocks something over and tells Danny to clean it up because he was too busy running around to do it himself. Is it important to give children chores? Yes, it teaches them responsibility. You should not be asking them to deal with hazardous, dangerous chemicals that can literally cause an explosion capable of killing people. Something to keep in mind.

Now let's look at Season 2:

"Doctor's Disorders": In this lovely (sarcasm) episode, we have Jack saying to Danny's face: "Poor Jazz. She's always been my favorite." I don't feel like this one needs much more explanation for how horrible this is. Also, this isn't really too relevant to the bad-parent-thing and more to the "they wouldn't take Danny's reveal well under other circumstances" thing, because Maddie literally says to Tucker: "Everybody knows humans can't have ghost powers." Which would technically, probably, dehumanize Danny in their eyes.

"Identity Crisis": There's one line in particular in this episode I wanted to point out, which is from Jack where he says, "Safety features? Why, safety features are for punks." ...I know this is probably supposed to be a joke, but when you think about it, it's even worse than you might think. In fanon we do tend to stress how forgetful the Fentons are when it comes to lab safety, but it's one thing to forget and it's a whole other thing to purposefully dismiss it. I could even argue that we're doing the Fentons a service by characterizing them as simply forgetful.

"The Fenton Menace": This is one of the episodes I referenced in the original ask as well, for its... plethora of concerning material. There are lines such as, "Whether it's air land or sea I won't stop until we capture a ghost and tear it apart. Molecule by molecule." A POINT TO MADDIE, she told her family she loved them by saying, "Nothing like spending quality family time with the people you love." However she immediately loses those points when she and Jack attempt to 'spin the crazy' out of Danny. The episode transcript reveals Danny's reaction to this, which is described by, "Danny screaming, his face and hair flying around. Zoom out to show him strapped to a table, which is attached to a metal arm. Zoom out to show the metal arm connected to a centrifuge-like device on the ceiling." As well as, "Danny is shaking, hair sticking up with bags under his eyes." Is this supposed to be a joke? I wouldn't know because quite frankly, I'm not laughing.

"The Fright Before Christmas": So in this episode we learn why Danny hates Christmas! Which is because he got peed on by a dog. As a baby. What kind of parent lets their baby get peed on by a dog? Again, child neglect is a criminally punishable offense, and if they had left him out, in the cold, with dog piss on him, we could have had a lot bigger problems here. They also ignore both their children for most of this episode due to their arguing, although they go back later on and tell Danny that he shouldn't be alone for Christmas and where was all this concern before?

"Secret Weapons": Ah... This is the episode where it happens. Here we get the infamous interaction. Please note how a ghost is referred to as an 'it'. Not a person, not even a kid. But an 'it' that can feel pain that will go ignored.

Jazz: "Does it hurt the ghost?" Maddie: [laughs] "Oh, Jazz! You know your father and I don't care about that. Jack: "Yeah! If we hear it scream, then we know it's working."

"Micro-Management": At the very end of this episode, Jack makes a comment to Danny, "I'm so proud. Our boy finally has the physical prowess of a 60 year old president. Here's to you son." Clearly it's meant to be a compliment, but I don't know about you guys, but I wouldn't take this as a compliment.

"Masters of All Time": This one takes a more distressing turn, because after Maddie catches Danny for snooping around, she has his strapped down to a table and fires a laser at him to interrogate him, thinking he's a ghost (though the laser doesn't hit him, just threatens him, which... isn't much better). And this is after he's already insisted that he's her son. He is still very clearly a child, and even if she doesn't believe that he's her son (for admittedly understandable reasons, people usually remember when they bear children), the fact that she strapped him to a table at all does not look favorably on her. Especially when he very clearly believed that she was his mother, and he was her son. And she still did this to him. Yes, there were time shenanigans involved, but that doesn't make this any easier on Danny just because he knows the truth.

"Reality Trip": This episode showcases that the Fenton parents can actually be decent parents. While they have a hard time believing the truth at first, they do eventually accept it. However, it is still important to remember that Danny could have never known what their reaction would be, so his fear is understandable and rooted in real concern for his life. Here are some of the best points from this transcript:

Jack: "Imagine, our own son has had ghost powers all this time and has kept them a secret from us. [confused] But we love him! [turning to Maddie] I wonder why he didn't trust us enough to tell us." Jazz: "[sarcastically] Hmm, let me guess. [mimicking Jack] "Hey, Maddie, let's destroy the ghost!" [mimicking Maddie] "No, Jack, let's dissect the ghost." [mimicking Jack again] "I know, let's catch the ghost and rip it apart molecule by molecule!" [normal voice, sarcastic again] You guys are so understanding." [Jack and Maddie drop their gazes, ashamed.]

Moving onto Season 3:

"Eye for an Eye": This is more a passing mention, but Jack seems to be a little obsessed with the GIW and huge fans of their work, and you do see it some more in "Livin' Large" later on in the season as well.

"Girls' Night Out": We see Jack trying to make an effort with Danny in this episode again. I did point out in the original ask reply that Jack was obviously trying to be a good father for Danny, which definitely deserves some points. However, it is still important to point out how generally uninterested Danny was in the bonding activity. It goes back to how Maddie ignored the chance to give Danny a choice, and how dismissive they tend to be towards him. I still want to award Jack a point for looking for advice from 'Father/Son Relationships For Stupids!' but I do so half-heartedly. Their interactions in this episode definitely reek with discomfort, but considering everything that has gone down in between now and "The Million Dollar Ghost", that does make sense.

"Torrent of Terror": This is another instance of extreme lack of safety precautions- the airbags don't deploy? In the GAV??? Somewhere out there, OSHA is crying.

"Forever Phantom": Maddie and Jack show a lot of anti-Phantom rhetoric in this episode. So this tracks how uncomfortable and/or threatened Danny might feel at home. Some examples include:

Jack: "He keeps this up he's liable to make people forget he's nothing but a putrid rancid ball of self-aware protoplasm."

Maddie: "Don't be fooled sweetie. He's up to something. Remember that time he attacked the mayor? Or stole everyone's Christmas presents? Once a filthy ghost always a filthy ghost."

"Livin' Large": Something to remember, the GIW intend to fire a missile into the Ghost Zone after gaining access to the Fentons' portal. While they didn't have the password right away, it cannot be understated that the Fentons basically gave away their house in exchange for wealth. Thankfully the missile was just a fake and not a real weapon of mass destruction, but do not mistake this to mean that- had it been real- the GIW wouldn't have gone through with it. And the Fenton parents would have been just as responsible.

And that concludes our canon research for this argument! Let's wrap things up with some stats. Of the 49 episodes in the show, we have evidence in 21 episodes. That is roughly 43% of the show, and this does not include comments that Danny has made about his parents and how they treat him. Obviously, at the end of the day, human error is possible. There is always a chance that I could have missed another piece of information, or perhaps another thoughtful addition to this list. However, 43% is no laughing matter.

Yes, the Fenton parents had their shining moments, but with all the other evidence presented that overshadows those little gems, can you confidently say that they are good parents? And most of all, if you were in Danny's shoes, would you say the same thing?

It's easy to excuse this as a cartoon. When you're writing in this world, playing with these characters, that excuse instantly evaporates.

Thank you for reading, I hope you all learned something about the Fenton parents like I did.

#danny phantom #dpxdc #jack fenton #maddie fenton #fanon vs canon #character analysis #show analysis

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the-soliloquies-of-sadists · 1 year

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#343

“When I told you that you could move in my spare room in my basement, when your parents threw you out for being gay, I knew you had no money. I said I’d figure something out. Well pussy-fag, I figured it out. Every morning your job is to eat my shithole….

“Bitch, don’t act so surprised. I know you are a pig. I know you like what you see; your towel is not hiding your rock-hard pecker. I’ve known for a while you’ve been into men. I heard from a buddy that you frequent the bushes at the river front boat launch, not just frequent, but you suck or get fucked by a number of fishermen, dads, hell any man that makes his way into those bushes. I asked Coach James about you, and he said that he caught you getting cornholed by quarterback Jenkins. The only reason why nothing came of that is that Jenkins turned 18 and you were still underage, and he didn’t want his prize quarterback in any trouble. I’ve known for some time—well before I saw you walking on the road to town—that you were a service minded faggot. Now drop the towel and get that tongue to service my shitter.

“Oh fuck! You can lick the crack on occasion, but I need for your tongue to spend most of its time inside my hole…. Like that. Fuck.

“I know you had the hots for me for some time. Every time I would go into the Starbucks you work at in my Deputy uniform, you failed miserably to mask your lust for me. It’s so easy to spot a hungry sperm burper with a cop fetish.

“I knew you were still underage. So I waited and watched over the next couple months, casually asking key men about you. Once you graduated and turned 18, I made sure that your conservative parents knew that you were a pole rider who frequented the boat launch. Then I waited for you to make that long walk into town from their farm. That’s when I picked you up and brought you here.

“Fuck your tongue feels so good inside. You do have experience tongue fucking a man’s shithole. Every morning, I want you to service me with your tongue. Then every time I get off work, you will help me undress and meticulously fold and store my uniform. Afterwards, we will go into the playroom through that door.

“Here pull back. Let’s go in there now…. Leave the towel on the floor. I want you naked at all times from now on. Follow me. Now you can look at the meatiness of my ass and appreciate it. In this room, I have all the toys and equipment that it takes to satisfy me. You look terrified. Good…. Don’t worry, it’s going to take you time to get you ready for all this. Hell, it’s going to be a while before you actually see my dick, not just over-flowing in my jock.

“Ha! That made you look down. Go ahead stare at it. It’s fucking huge, and it’s not even hard.

“Your service to me is going to come in stages. The first thing, see that chair in the middle of the room? Next to it you see the table with the whisky and a cigar. I want that ready to go before I get off shift. After you undress me and put away my uniform, we will come down here.

“That cabinet over there is a humidor. It holds over 4,000 cigars, but right now I have about 1,200 in it. You will be trained on everything cigar related. Every day you will select one for me to enjoy and set it on that table next to the chair.

“That is a wet bar over there. You will pour me a whisky from one of my dozen or so varieties. Again, you will be trained on everything whisky related. A double on the rocks will need to be placed next to the cigar and the TV remote.

“I have over three thousand porn videos. You are to select one and have it playing when I come in. It should be muted. I would also like voiceless smooth jazz playing over the speakers. You will get to the point to where your selections of cigar, music, whisky, and porn all work together for my enjoyment.

“When I come in here, it’s to relax after a long day at work. I want to hear soothing music, a nice cigar, some smooth whiskey, while watching hot porn, and a faggot’s tongue worshipping my shitter. See that hole in the seat? Your face is going to be under it when I plant my beefy ass for you to clean.

“Go on, around back and climb under it. This chair was specially made for me by this rim chair designer who lives in the mountains with his slave. Your head should fit snug but fine. There should be neck support.

“You look like you always belonged there. Before I sit, I am going to show you my cock. It’s not going to be hard, but you can appreciate its size. Open your mouth. You ever drink piss? No? That’s going to change right now. I don’t expect you to swallow it all at once, but do make an effort. You won’t get my dick until you have earned it by drinking my piss and cleaning my shithole.

“Oh fuck. You really must want my dick. You aren’t freaking out like most other boys. Swallow as you fast as you can, then open up for another piss load. That’s good. Don’t worry, I’ll have you well trained in no time. Now it’s time for my ass.

“The best part of this chair is that you cannot pull yourself out if I am sitting on it. There’s very little movement side to side. Your mouth is perfectly aligned with my shithole.

“You are to clean it, regardless of condition. I don’t care if it stinks of sweat or piss, you clean it. I don’t care if there are skid marks, you clean it.

“It’s dark hunh? You will find that the claustrophobia is rather liberating. Focus on two things, my shithole and your mouth. There is nothing in this universe other than those two things. Going forward, you will put a blindfold on and noise cancelling headsets. Again, it all comes down to my shithole and your mouth.

“Now it’s time for me to relax, truly relax. Oh, that just slipped out. Consider that me blowing you a kiss.”

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wolfjackle-creates · 1 year

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WIP Wednesday

So, here's a short excerpt for WIP Wednesday (963 words)! Thank you for everyone who followed my new writing blog, the response has been so unbelievable.

Trigger Warning: Discussion of parental death

Original Prompt Fill

1st Shared Segment

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IKnowYourSecrets: hey

IKnowYourSecrets: I know this isnt something weve done before

IKnowYourSecrets: you said you got a cell for your last bday

IKnowYourSecrets: can I call you?

IKnowYourSecrets: heres my number XXX-XXX-XXXX

-xXPolarisXx-: is everything ok?

-xXPolarisXx-: dont answer that

-xXPolarisXx-: obv not

-xXPolarisXx-: my phones in my room brb

Danny ran up stairs to grab his phone and return to the computer before anyone could close out of his chat. He checked the number and dialed it, closing out of everything and logging out as the call connected.

“Tim?” he asked as soon as the ringing stopped. “What’s happened?”

“Danny? I… this is weird talking like this.” Tim’s voice was rough and Danny couldn’t tell if that was from emotion or just how he normally sounded.

Danny laughed a little. “Yeah. It is. Give me a sec, let me get to my room and I’ll shut the door. Give us some privacy.”

“I… yeah. I might need a few minutes.”

“Are you okay?”

Tim made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob and Danny all but ran up the stairs. “No, not really. Um. My mom’s dead.”

“What?!" What was the appropriate response to something like this? Sometimes he wished he had Jazz's way with words. "What happened?”

“She and dad were in the Caribbean." Tim let out a huff. "I didn’t even know they were in the Caribbean.”

Danny made a noise to indicate he was listening, but waited for Tim to continue.

“There was a local villain named Obeah man. He captured them and held them ransom. Gave them some water to drink at some point, but… it was poisoned. By the time Batman got there, it was too late. Mom died.” Tim gave another half-hysterical laugh. “And my dad is in a coma. He may never wake up.” His voice trailed off.

Danny swallowed. How does anyone respond to news like that? “I’m so sorry, Tim. How are you holding up? What’s going to happen now?”

“The funeral is in two days. Bruce is organizing it. And I’m going to stay with him, I guess. He said he’d be happy to foster me until my dad gets better.”

“Shit, Tim. Text me during the funeral if you need to.”

“I might take you up on that. You won’t mind?”

“Of course not. Every 5 seconds if you need to.”

“Distract me. What’s going on in your life? I don’t want to think about any of this anymore.”

“Oh, uh, all right. Are you sure?”

“Please, Danny.”

“If you change your mind, interrupt me anytime.” Danny chewed his lip. What on earth could he talk about in response to news like that? The test he had in English last week? That sounded so trite. “I did start karate training with…” he trailed off before he could say his mom. “Anyway, it’s going all right. I’ve basically only been taught basic moves. I only get lessons two or three times a month so it’s slow going.”

Tim’s voice was still shaky, but he seemed to latch onto the topic to Danny’s relief. “You really have to give it your all if you want to succeed. Have you learned the basic stances and things?”

“Some, I think.”

“Hold those positions. Stand in your room and just hold them for ten minutes at a time. And practice the same punch over and over. Even if your m—” Tim’s voice caught and he changed course “—instructor can’t make it. Would you be allowed to sign up for classes? Get something more consistent?”

“We don’t have the money.” Danny bit back the embarrassment he felt at admitting that. Tim was rich-rich and never had to worry about things like bills. “Ghost hunting doesn’t really pay. My parents are at least good engineers so they can fix our own appliances and vehicles. Sometimes dad or mom will fix stuff for the neighbors for some extra money.”

Tim hummed in understanding and didn’t push the issue. “How did they even get into ghosts to begin with?”

“If we ever end up in the same place, you are not allowed to ask that directly to my parents. Don’t mention ghosts at all. They won’t stop talking for hours. As for how they got into it… Dad’s always believed in the supernatural. He could’ve just as easily started tracking big foot or the Loch Ness Monster. But he met mom in university and she was stuck on ghosts. Dragged him in, too. And he’s obsessive. Once he decides on something, that’s it.

“They were both studying the supernatural and had to decide what to focus on for their doctoral research. Mom’s hated ghosts since she was a teenager. Apparently she and a friend were dared to go into a haunted house one Halloween. She doesn’t talk about it much, but her friend died that night. She blames the ghosts and has dedicated her life to hunting them ever since.”

Tim clicked his tongue. “Wow. It almost makes sense with that back story.”

Danny snorted. “Ghosts aren’t real. I dunno what killed her friend, but it wasn’t a ghost. Wish they’d decided to hunt Bigfoot instead.”

“Really? Why do you say that?”

Danny looked out his window and stared at the setting sun. “If they were hunting bigfoot, we’d probably go camping more often. And I like camping. You get the best views of the stars that way.”

“What’s your favorite constellation?”

“That’s like asking who my favorite Star Trek character is! There’s too many to choose. But do you know the folk history of Polaris? It’s why I chose my username.” Danny talked to Tim about the stars and space until Alfred called him away for dinner. They made plans to talk online again later.

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Now, I have a question for y'all. I was planning on finishing the entire work then publishing on a once a week basis until finished (or twice a week if I had more chapters than I expect). I've got the first chapter mostly done, just need to rewrite one section and change a few lines elsewhere. I also have the next 1.5 chapters mostly done on a first draft. I could start posting now, but I can't guarantee a posting schedule and I'll probably have to take a hiatus or two as I plan to get a new job and move sometime in the next few months.

So my question, do you want me to post now or wait? It'll probably be several months if not a year before I finish depending on how long I take and how many other projects catch my eye.

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In other news, the creator of the original prompt started their own fill, too! If you read mine, I am requiring you to check theirs as well because it is amazing 💕. Tumblr Link and AO3 Link

Tag List

@gremlin-bot, @bonebrokebuddy, @britcision, @lady-time-lord-, @welcometosasakiworld, @akikkobara, @phoenixdemonqueen, @dolfay, @skulld3mort-1fan, @we-ezer, @markus209, @sjrose1216, @onyxlightdragon, @dragonsrequiem, @jesus-camp-the-sequel, @spidey29phangirl, @kyrianclawraith, @evilminji, @introvert-even-on-the-internet, @emergentpanda-blog, @lexdamo, @v-inari, @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit, @longlivethefallen

I removed the names of some people who requested a tag back in November but didn’t interact with the last snippet I shared. Since it’s been so long, I wasn’t sure if you were still interested. I’ll be more than happy to add anyone else, re-add anyone I took off, or take off anyone who doesn’t want future tags! Or start a separate list just for after there’s an AO3 link. Just let me know!

#dp x dc #my writing #bring me home fic #danny fenton #tim drake #first phone call #not a happy day #but theyll get through it

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disillusioneddanny · 9 months

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The Story of Us - Prologue

Danny smiled as he rocked his feet back on the swing, slowly making momentum for himself as the swing swung higher and higher. His parents were in Gotham City for some kinda convention and they had dropped him and his sister off at the park to play! The eight-year-old was having the time of his life swinging and playing on the slide!

If only he could get Jazz to join him, then it would be perfect! But no! Jazz was sittin’ under some tree reading her book instead of playing with her little brother. She was the worst big sister in the entire world!

Danny let out a laugh as he started to swing higher in the sky, any minute now his toes would touch the clouds! He was swinging so high! It made for the most perfect jump ever.

The little boy swung a few more times before he held his breath and let go of the chains, vaulting himself into the air! He bent his knees like his Auntie Alicia taught him and landed on the ground right on his feet!

“Wow!” A little voice said in awe. Danny looked over to find a little boy staring at Danny in shock. “That was so cool!”

Danny laughed as he took in the little boy. He was in a pair of nice pants and a button-up shirt with a sweater vest. He didn’t look like a little boy at all! He looked like a tiny adult! And his hair was all slicked back and silly looking.

“I’m Danny! Who’re you!” He said, wiping his now sweaty hands on his jeans.

The little boy smiled, a small, shy smile that just barely showed he was missing a tooth. “I’m Bruce! My butler Alfred brought me to play at the park today,” he said and held out his hand.

Danny stared at the appendage for a moment and then looked at Bruce and frowned. “What’s wrong with your hand?”

Bruce laughed and shook his head. “You’re supposed to shake it, silly,” he said and held it out further. Danny frowned and took Bruce’s fingers and shook them along with his whole arm. Bruce stared at him for a moment and laughed. “We can work on it. Are you from here? No one is ever at the park at this time.”

Danny shook his head. “Nope! I’m from Illinois! My parents are here for a meeting and they dropped me off here!” He said with a small smile. He pointed at his sister sitting under a tree, still reading her book. “That’s my sister, Jazz! She’s babysitting me.”

Bruce tilted his head. “Is she old enough for that?”

Danny shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno, but she watches me all the time,” he said happily. “Now, wanna go play? I can push you on the swings ‘till you go that high if you want?”

Bruce looked between the swings and the spot where his butler sat watching the boys and smiled before he nodded his head. “Definitely! That looked fun!”

That was the beginning of what soon became a beautiful friendship. The boys played at the park for hours until eventually, Alfred the Butler had said that Bruce had to go home, apparently, he had classes he had to attend. But they could come and meet up the next day to play! And they exchanged phone numbers so that they could talk whenever they wanted! It was amazing.

Their friendship only grew from there, Danny and Brucie played at the park every single day until it was time for the Fentons to drive back to Illinois. Their goodbyes had been tearful, both boys promising to call the other every single day.

From there, though, their friendship only grew until the worst day of Bruce’s life happened and Danny and his mom found themselves driving back to Gotham City, this time for a funeral. Danny had thrown the biggest fit, demanding that Maddie or Jack took him to Gotham so that he could be there for his best friend. He had to support him and give him all the hugs he could.

Upon his arrival at the funeral, Bruce had launched himself at his best friend, sobbing heavily into his chest as Danny held his best friend tight, whispering that everything would be okay. The adults stood close by, murmuring quietly to one another and Alfred thanked his lucky stars that Bruce had a friend like Danny, he only wished that the boy lived closer.

Maddie and Danny had spent a week with Alfred and Bruce and Danny had done everything he could to make his best friend happy, to bring that smile back to his face. He held him close, listened to him cry, and did everything he could to be a good friend.

Little did he know that in just seven years, Bruce would be doing the same thing for Danny. A fifteen-year-old Danny found himself standing at the entryway of Wayne Manor with two duffle bags full of clothes and the rest of his things as he waited for his best friend to answer the door. Bruce had been the first person aside from Sam and Tucker to learn about his ghost powers, he had also been the first one to know when Danny had said his reveal to his parents had gone badly.

His parents thankfully hadn’t tried to experiment on him or destroy him molecule by molecule but maybe that would have been better than what they had done.

Danny had told his parents he was a halfa, that he was Phantom, the ghost they had been hunting for a little over a year now and what had they done? They had told him to leave. They had looked him in the eyes and told him to leave and never come back. They didn’t say the words but Danny knew what it mean if he did come back.

So here he was, in Gotham City about to move in with his best friend and his butler because there was nowhere else safe for him to stay. Bruce had simply pulled him into his arms and allowed him to sob, to cry like he had been holding it in for days now. He was just so tired.

The years went on like that, Danny and Bruce grew up together, learning and growing together with Danny taking his best friend on flights around Gotham. When suddenly the time changed and things changed for both of them.

It was their sophomore year of college. Nineteen years old and off getting degrees in medicine together. First, it had been Danny who had gotten news of a war in the Infinite Realms. Apparently with Pariah Dark locked away once more, there had become a huge war in who was going to rule in his place. Danny had denied his right to the crown as he had only been fourteen when he had defeated the ghost. But now the runners in the war had been Dorathea and Walker, both with large followings ready to fight until the end of time to decide who would rule.

It had been Danny’s fault that it had led to a war and the ghost part of him was demanding that he go and join the war, to do what he could to make sure that Walker of all people didn’t get the crown. At the same time, Bruce had decided it was time for him to go on his own journey, to finally get revenge on the people who had taken his parents away from him.

And so there they went, two separate paths ahead of them, a story for each of them to find the end to. Somehow neither expected their roads to lead them where they did but soon Bruce found himself as the Batman.

The protector of Gotham, the one who stalked the streets fighting crime.

And at the same time, Danny had found himself to be one of the best healers in the Infinite Realms, helping ghosts and the living alike.

Neither expected their paths to cross again, but thankfully, fate has a way of bringing paths together again.

check out the master list here for all chapters <3

#dis dreams #dis writes #dpxdc #danny phantom #batman

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lilhwahwa · 11 months

Text

heart swindler - J.WY (Part 2)

PART 1

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ part 2: After Wooyoung takes you home from the club following a claustrophobic episode, you grow paranoid at the threatening texts sent to you by an anonymous person. The following week you are extra careful but find the worst of your fears becoming reality. With no one to help you, only a coincidence keeps you and your nephew safe, for now.

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: Female Pronouns Conwoman reader! x Conman Wooyoung! Enemies to Lovers. Angst. Fluff. Smut.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: 18+ smut themes in the future parts. Mentions of drug abuse. Abusive parenting. Violence. Bi? Wooyoung? Stalking. Slowburn!. Conning? More to be added... This is fiction and does not represent the real idol.

proof read? - no

words: 8.1K

tags: @bl3ss3d-curs3d @mayosgrises @k-queen @starrysvn @harusoraa @chiefbananaearthquake @leeknowsalot @toxicccred @yunhorights let me know if you want to be added or removed!

MASTERLIST

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To say that the new week started on a fresh note would be a lie. Since receiving the anonymous text message, you found yourself becoming hyperaware of details and people in your surroundings. You glanced over your shoulder when walking Jisung to school in the morning and cringed away from your phone every time it pinged with a message.

You considered letting the matter go. It isn't your first time receiving empty threats from men conned by you or their loyal-to-a-fault wives. Most of those threats were nothing but empty words of anger and frustration. Yet, nobody had ever personally come looking for you, let alone sent you a picture from outside your hotel room. Each passing hour of your days sparked dark thoughts that possessed your brain about strangers breaking into your home or sneaking up on you, or worse, on Jisung. Soon enough it is as if your body went into survival mode, planning safety precautions for any situation and scanning rooms and roads for exit routes.

Your paranoia lead you to the decision that it would be the right time to access your emergency cash stacked away in one of Hongjoong's safety deposit boxes. Stepping into LUX on a weekday felt wrong. The calm atmosphere was nothing compared to what it usually was on a Saturday night. First of all, no people were crowding you. There was a sense of security knowing you could be left alone. This instantly brought you back to the memory of Wooyoung carrying you out of the same place you now stood. You tried to avoid thinking back to that situation, seeing as it only reminded you about the sudden overwhelming anxiety caused by crowds. It is human nature to enjoy your personal space, after all. But of course, you couldn't be promised that freedom when you are a con woman. Your breaths were cut short from your lungs, each inhale followed by a burning blaze of anxiety as it settled like a barbell on your chest. Was it really claustrophobia? You refused to assume or even admit that crowds make you anxious. Your work relied on persuading people and standing out in crowds. So how could it be that you are so afraid of it all? And so suddenly?

“Hey Bullet” Hongjoong greets, taking long strides across the polished marble until you meet halfway on the empty dance floor. The hue of the lights is warm and soft, unlike the strobing effect arranged on them during parties. The whole club felt more like a New Orleans-themed old-fashioned jazz bar, decorated with the occasional strip pole here and there that added to the unique aesthetic blend.

“Hongjoong, thank you for meeting me today.”

“Anything for you. Are you perhaps having a shortage of customers lately?” Hongjoong raises a brow as you round the corner of LUX's bar, slipping into a hidden staff area. You mimic Hongjoong's expression. What did he mean? Had he also noticed the number of clients Wooyoung had been bringing in, or was your luck running so low that Hongjoong managed to take note of your pathetically desperate attempts at talking men up?

“Seeing as you are taking some of your emergency money out, that is” he is quick to add once he notices the distant look on your face.

When you first stumbled into Hongjoong’s club, he encouraged you to put away some emergency money in a safe deposit box storage at the club both for his and your safety. It was a good plan seeing as stashing cash in one place could show itself to be risky. If you were to be robbed, all your savings would disappear instantly. And seeing as you have a contract with Hongjoong, you could only guess the businessman also felt safer knowing his partners left some of their money with him as a deposit and promise they would pay their part of the deal. If not, well, they could kiss their earnings goodbye.

Hongjoong pressed his thumb onto a smooth scanning pad which activated the intelligent technology to validate his fingerprint almost immediately. He unlocked the steel door leading into yet another covert room. The room behind the door held multiple large safety deposit boxes. The only other time you had been in here, was when you left the money behind.

Your high heels click against the dark marble floor as you hesitantly navigate towards the bar where Hongjoong had instructed you to wait for him. You had visited some clubs in the city area, but none could compare to LUX. Rumour spread that it was one of the hardest clubs to get into which made it much more desirable. Before you even moved to the city centre, dreaming of getting into a place like LUX was a common theme of conversations among acquaintances at your old clubs.

The place lived up to its expectations. A large sign spelling “LUX” is on display on top of a glass, high-rise building, shining light blue as if it was made out of diamonds which is guaranteed to catch any passerby’s attention both day and night.

After standing in line outside, an exclusive elevator takes you to the 10th floor where a bouncer checks your information again. You wouldn’t blame anybody if they told you it felt like going through security control at an airport, but that’s what made LUX so exclusive.

If the inside of the club could be described in one word, it would surely be prestige. Marble floors shine from being squeaky clean as the many professional lights give the room a warm and alluring red hue. Even during the day, Hongjoong made sure to keep a certain vibe inside of LUX.

The bar catches your attention immediately. For a second you wondered if the bottles of alcohol were floating in thin air but then recognized that they stood on shelves made of thin glass. Behind the bottles, water ran down a marble wall to feign a calm waterfall that was accentuated by colour-changing lights behind it.

“Sorry for my delay, I will be seeing Mr Jung out now.” A voice cut through the room as Hongjoong appeared from behind the bar with a man following behind him. You immediately recognized the man. How could you not after his name spread through hushed whispers of customers and employees at various clubs, including smaller ones you had visited for work? Both men and women shamelessly spoke about wishing to cross paths with him, hoping they would possess unique traits that would stick out to him and make him stay. You were inclined to laugh whenever people deluded themselves with such ideas. Seeing people fall for a man in your industry was not uncommon, they are arguably the best charmers. But, getting them to commit? You would be luckier buying a lottery ticket than ever getting a conman to be yours.

You nod your head at the man politely, wondering if he had been working at LUX for while or if he was just starting. Whatever the answer was, there was no good answer. Having Wooyoung as competition would be hell and for a second you wondered if you should pack your bags and move over to another club.

"This is your new "bullet" you mentioned earlier?" Wooyoung asks, eyeing you from head to toe as if you weren't standing right in front of him. You furrow your brows. What had he heard about you? You clear your throat, hiding the sudden wave of insecurity flushing through you.

"Yes, and she will be quite the star, correct?" Hongjoong sends a reassuring smile your way, making you almost want to childishly stick your tongue out at Wooyoung as Hongjoong shuts his sarcasm down.

"I hope so" you reply silently, not wanting to show any uncertainty, but having Wooyoung stare you down wasn't a straight confident boost either. You would have to work on handling his...quirks.

Wooyoung chuckles, shrugging it off as if there were nothing to worry about. And truly, he did believe that. "Don't forget who your real star is, Kim" Wooyoung smirks, cocking his eyebrow at Hongjoong when the elder turns to look at him. Hongjoong clears his throat as the two share a knowing gaze, and you wonder if there is something deeper between the men that you had missed observing. You awkwardly look around the club as Wooyoung finally makes his exit. Despite the open space around you, he chooses to brush his body against you as he leaves, lips turned up in a cocky smirk as he disappears out of sight.

"See you soon" he called out behind him, and you were unsure if he had meant it for me or for Hongjoong, but you knew both of you would be seeing him around anyway.

"You are doing alright though, right darling? Wooyoung isn't giving you a hard time is he?" Hongjoong asks as he walks you over to the elevators. You aren't surprised at mentions of the man, seeing as you work together. But something about Hongjoong's tone made your stomach flip slightly. Why were they so familiar with one another?

"No, we're all good" You plaster a fake smile, yet your thoughts jump to possible scenarios of how Hongjoong got familiar with Wooyoung. From innocent scenarios such as getting introduced by friends to ones where they shared a bed. You weren't sure why you cared that much anyway, it's not like you are in any situation with Wooyoung, but the heavy disappointment still sinks to the bottom of your abdomen. "Well, I'll be going so...thank you for the help" You step into the elevator, eyes meeting Hongjoong's as he carefully looks over you with his usual, calm, expression. His eyes seemed to search for an answer to an unanswered question, but he let it go, for now.

You press your bag close against your side as you walk outside, throwing your arm out to attract the attention of a taxi. You had to get back to the hotel and start looking for other options. Moving places this quickly was not the ideal plan, but seeing as your location had been disclosed, you had no choice.

As you reach the hotel, you pay the driver and scramble your way inside. Your eyes scan the proximity of the lobby for any suspicious individuals, the anxiety brewing in your stomach as an unpleasant chill runs up your spine when your brain flashes unwelcomed violent flashes in front of your eyes. You shake it off and take the elevator up to your floor. Perhaps you had been overthinking it too much. It was already lunchtime and you would have to find a new place, pick up Jisung and go grocery shopping. Going back to LUX at night was an option seeing as any extra cash would be helpful. Yet with the factor that your ankle is still healing and the thought of leaving Jisung alone as you work, the idea was quickly erased.

You open your front door, shuffling inside. The sun was bright and lit up the beautiful wooden furniture of the luxurious hotel room you called home. You put your bag down on the couch before suddenly freezing in your spot. The sun. A shiver runs down your spine at the realisation. You could see the sun. Why would you be able to see the sun if you closed the curtains before leaving? That was one of your many safety precautions. Forgetting something like that was not a possibility.

You turn around to face the door again, an intuitive feeling ushering you to leave the room immediately. You decide to listen and step towards the door but it was too late. You hear it before you see it, the squeak of rubber from shoes against your floor as a pair of arms wrap around your torso, trapping your arms to your sides as you start trashing around.

"Let go!" you cry, heart banging against your ribcage with harsh thumps as the adrenaline inside awakens your fight-or-flight instinct. You trash your head and body side to side, trying anything to loosen the tight grip on you.

"Shut the fuck up" you pick up from the person behind you. Your knees grow weaker as you struggle to stand. As a scream began to leave your mouth, a large palm covered your lips to muffle the sound. Sharp breaths through your nose keep you conscious and you realize the person now only had one hand around you instead of two. This opportunity gives you a momentary advantage as you push yourself forward as if losing balance and manage to hook your ankle around the intruder's leg. With a last burst of energy, you manage to land a hit to the intruder's side with your elbow, sending him off balance. When you feel the slightest relief of pressure on your body, you make a sprint for safety.

With shaky hands and wobbly legs, you manage to unlock the door as the person groans in pain behind you. Yet you never turn to look at whoever it was, deciding that running out to the lobby to find any living person would be the best option, seeing as your floor was empty. You wonder if the pain you inflicted would last long enough for you to escape.

Your chest heaves up and down heavily as your body shakes from adrenaline and shock as the elevator door allows you entrance, fingers repeatedly hitting the button for the first floor. Light thumps and a squeak from sneakers could be heard closing in from the hallway, and for a second, you wondered if you had failed to escape. Surely your luck had come to its lowest. With mere seconds left to spare, a black shadow picks up speed and sprints towards the elevator, but the doors close in the nick of time, separating you from the intruder.

The floor in the elevator seems to swallow your body, feet sinking into the floor as you lean on the railing for support. The muscles in your legs spasm from the adrenaline wearing off as the realization of what had just happened caught up to you. Anxiety seeps through your pores and is distributed to your chest and abdomen, making it harder to take a proper breath. The fears you deemed as stupid and irrational were suddenly very real. You clench your trembling fists, desperately seeking a source of comfort, but your hands are slick with perspiration.

You aren't sure which way to run as the elevator doors part with a soft ping, reaching the lobby The security office is right around the corner outside of the hotel. The receptionist on shift was just a young girl who probably wouldn't hurt a fly. A coffee shop is opened right across the street, surely the intruder wouldn't cause a scene there, right? You look over at the other operating elevator as you sprint out from the one you had taken. Would he still be after you? Maybe he'd give up and-

"Oh you are here, I was going to look for you since you forgot your-" what was that? The voice was so familiar, and as you turn to look, you see that you are coincidentally running into Wooyoung. You couldn't stop your legs from moving, seemingly uncontrollably as you walk straight into his body.

The man who you once wished would disappear from your line of sight, was now suddenly the only beam of hope you held onto. His facial expression changes in a matter of a millisecond, so quickly you manage to miss it. His hands grip your arms to stabilize your body as he watches your eyes hysterically run around the room, chest heaving in obvious panic. What the fuck was going on? "Do you feel unwe-" he starts.

"Please we- please take me away from here-" you manage to push out words on the little air you had left in your burning lungs. You would curse yourself for showing such desperation in front of your proclaimed rival. But tears pricked at your eyes as you realize that if don't leave right away, you may not make it out unharmed, or even alive. A ping of the elevator doors opening sends a shiver down your spine, and your whip your head to check whether the intruder was catching up to you. Wooyoung follows your gaze but finds a family of three exiting the tight compartment.

"What's happ-"

"Please, we have to leave, just- please" You beg breathlessly. Though hesitating for a second, unsure whether to question you now or do as you request, Wooyoung accepts that an explanation could wait. He wraps a protective arm around your waist to support your floppy body and sets course to his car parked by the entrance.

You couldn't seem to make your legs walk, awkwardly hanging onto Wooyoung as he supported your weight on the walk over to his car. The same car he had taken you home in just last weekend. You sink into the leather seat, eyes on the hotel entrance to see whether the intruder would come out that way. Would you even recognize him? What if it wasn't a man?

Wooyoung snapped you out of your thoughts as he plopped down into the driver's seat. He wasted no time driving off. You were thankful for the silence that settled over you as Wooyoung drove you to a place he deemed safe. You didn't even think to question your location, putting your trust in his hands. As if it was how it was supposed to be. You notice stray raindrops hitting the car window, eyes following the race between the oval shapes. As they disappear from sight, you look up to follow another race and repeat this until the light drizzle, turned into a pour.

Wooyoung's intuition to observe, caught glances of your shaky hand clenching around a tiny bit of your shirt, probably to calm down. He glances over to you staring out the window with a blank expression. Neither of you has said a word since you left. The tension in the car was becoming palpable, and the rain only seemed to amplify it as the drops violently knock against the window of the car.

The silence stretches on, and you begin to feel like it's suffocating you. You fidget in your seat, trying to find a comfortable position. The rain continues to fall relentlessly and you can feel the tension in your shoulders mounting as you think of what to tell Wooyoung. The truth? A white lie? Your paranoia went as far as to believe he was in on the evil plan at one point.

"Would you like to stop at McDonald's?" he asks as he spots the bright yellow sign through the heavy downpour. He was uncertain why he offered, but since ordering it last, he thought it might cheer you up. Not that he cared to cheer people up for fun, but it slipped out before he could stop to think twice. It came out naturally. Almost as naturally as it was carrying you out of the club in his arms. Or wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you stable.

Yet his words brought on another anxious reminder. Whilst his intentions were pure, he was oblivious that the fast food had been for Jisung and not you. Jisung. He was still in school. Alone and oblivious that the life he had before leaving for school would not be the same again when you pick him up. How would you even pick him up? There was no way you would willingly leave your somewhat safe spot with Wooyoung, but you could not leave Jisung exposed to the intruder. You had to tell Wooyoung. Fuck whatever he would think of you.

"No, but there is somewhere we have to go. Please" you look at him as you speak up, eyes silently begging to not ask further questions. You knew you had asked a lot of him. Hell, he had helped you this past week more than your own family ever had over the span of your life. Wooyoung's eyes met yours, melting into the gaze as thoughts seemingly teleported between your minds. For a long moment, you just stare at each other, neither of you speaking. It's as if words would break the spell that had been cast between you.

Then, Wooyoung reaches for his phone, unlocking it before handing it to you without a glance. You eye him carefully and take the phone into your hands, noticing that the maps application was selected. A warm feeling of relief and gratefulness settles over you as you type the address to Jisung's school without another sound. Wooyoung follows the GPS to the selected location. As stoic as his face seemed, his jaw was tight with worry and theories on what had happened. It had to be something serious for you to end up asking him for help. He wasn't clueless about the dynamic of your relationship if one could even call it one. You so desperately asking him for help already created a picture of what type of situation this could be.

As the car comes to a stop, you realize the overwhelming amount of explaining you were about to do. Both to Jisung but also Wooyoung. The car is as silent as ever as you gather yourself, preparing to step out. Your hands were still shaky, but your heart rate had slowed down, leaving you with a faint weight of where it had banged against your ribs as a reminder.

"Would you like me to go in with you?" Wooyoung breaks the silence, yet his mind was becoming louder with new questions. A school? Why the hell were you at a school? Was this a family matter?

You realize that as much as you'd like to get Jisung by yourself, the little voice in the back of your head reminded you that the intruder could be a psychopath who was now stalking you around the city. Even the rational part of your mind seemed to agree seeing as the break-in you were so paranoid and worried about, did end up happening.

You nod quickly, your body reacting faster than any words leaving your mouth.

"Yes please"

Wooyoung doesn't need to be told twice as he gets out of the car, eyes staying on you as if you'd disappear. He wouldn't call it worry, but something about seeing the pure terror in your eyes as you clung onto his arm desperately sent unpleasant jolts down his spine. He didn't ever want to see that look on your face again. Whatever this behaviour was, it was certainly not something you'd ever seen on Wooyoung before. His seductive and teasing nature would never suggest that a much more stoic and...nurturing character hid inside of him. Of course you didn't expect him to march around in a button-down with his chiselled, toned chest and collarbones all oiled up as he lands all women and men in the ten-mile radius. But you had never seen him calmly cooperating and seemingly sympathetic to your struggle.

The faint smell of cafeteria food lingered in the silent corridors as most classes were in progress after a lunch break. You thankfully remember exactly which room Jisung would be in after lunch and knock on the wooden door. You look behind you to see Wooyoung observing your moves almost like a bodyguard. And frankly, he could become one with how safe you felt. You hear the teacher's voice pause as she opens the door. You recognize the elderly woman with glasses too big for her face as Jisung's English teacher. You had heard stories about her cats and weird obsession with crocheting from Jisung as he begged you to let him skip class early in the morning.

"Hello, I am here to get Jisung. I am afraid I forgot he has a doctor's appointment today that I completely forgot about" You offer your best smile, eyes scanning the room for your nephew. You let out a sigh you didn't know you were holding in as he sits there in one piece, eyes lighting up as he catches a glimpse of you.

The teacher nods and turns to call on Jisung to collect his things. You feel curious eyes linger over you but on a day like today you couldn't give two fucks. Jisung scatters to collect his things, as if being in the classroom for even a second longer would suffocate him.

"Hey buddy," you say shakily, quickly coughing to cover your nervous tone. Jisung embraces your torso, happily mumbling how he couldn't wait to go home as the teacher shut the door. Although Wooyoung seems stoic, his jaw clenches in shock as he tries to keep his reactions at a minimum. A child?

"Are we going home? Do we have food? The cafeteria had those weird gummy spaghetti again and I didn't eat it..." Jisung whines and turns to leave but soon notices Wooyoung blocking his way. The younger looks up at the man and bows slightly, thinking he was a teacher or somebody here to get their kid.

"Jisung- this is um, my friend Wooyoung. He is kind enough to help me pick you up today and take us-" You start introducing the two but your face drops as you realize you had nowhere to go. The hotel was the last place you'd go, especially alone. You didn't have an apartment and the only place you could think of at the top of your mind was LUX, which is not the right place for a child. "Um-" you struggle, eyes scattering away from Jisung's gaze to think of a lie.

"-To my place for a sleepover. We came to get you earlier so we could go get some food and become closer buddies, you and me. How does that sound?" It is as if something takes over Wooyoung the second he sees the pure confusion on Jisung's face. Hearing you stutter lies to him to keep him oblivious to whatever was happening. It reminded him of his baby brother and how any child should have the right to an innocent childhood, away from the fuck ups of this world. Wooyoung squats down to Jisung's height and holds an open palm for him. "I'm Wooyoung" and as soon as his name is out of his mouth you see the charming smile back on his lips. As if somebody had yelled "action".

The little boy looks back at you, eyes suspicious and if you weren't so worried about your well-being, you'd chuckle at how much he picked up from you. Small quirks and comments from your daily diary. You nod with a small smile, reassuring him it was alright.

"I'm Jisung" he exclaims and places his small hand to drown in Wooyoung's. Even as the older smiles, you don't miss the glance he shoots your way as Jisung happily trots towards the exit.

"We have a lot to talk about" is all Wooyoung says as he follows the younger boy out the door. You freeze in place for a second, watching the scene as if it was the calm before the storm. You take a deep breath and exit the building to catch up to Jisung, who was getting buckled into the backseat by Wooyoung. You did in fact have a lot to talk about.

Wooyoung was well off, that was a fact that had engraved itself in your mind since the day you met him. Not that you had any evidence to prove it other than the Prada shirt he'd wear or the van Cleef watch on his wrist. Yet you still find yourself looking around the penthouse apartment in awe. Of course, that jerk had to get a penthouse, he probably even has a playroom to go with it to feed his god complex - is what you would say if you had been here on another occasion, whatever that might be. But having nowhere safe to go and being offered a penthouse really doesn't leave room for complaining.

"This place is huge! Is that Seoul Tower?" Jisung screeches as he runs to look out the tall windows displaying the city. You'd tell him off for his behaviour, but something about seeing him so cluelessly happy calmed your heart. Wooyoung follows the boy, standing behind him to see what he saw. The height difference between them looked almost...adorable? You clear your throat and pick Jisung's backpack off the ground, placing it in the spacious living room.

Wooyoung's interior choices scream rich, modern bad boy protagonist. Whites and blacks along with marble accents. Is he a Christian Grey fanatic?

"Just because you got off school earlier doesn't mean you're free. Get your homework out" you call out to the boy who freezes and almost pretends he doesn't hear you. He'd try that trick but frankly, he's too embarrassed in front of his new buddy Wooyoung. Jisung silently walks over to you and reaches for his backpack. Wooyoung watches the scene with uncertainty. A lot of questions run through his mind, the biggest one surprisingly being your safety.

"Let's go, buddy, the sooner you finish the quicker we'll get to play. You like PlayStation?" Wooyoung palms Jisung's shoulder, patting it in comfort as he shows the younger to the kitchen, which seemed bigger than your old hotel room.

"Set your books here while me and your um..." You catch Wooyoung's eyes, only now realizing he must've thought Jisung was your son all along. You quickly step in.

"Auntie and Wooyoung will just talk about what to eat, get your book out and start okay? I'll come to check your answers soon" You hope Wooyoung catches on but still, you owed him an explanation. Whether it was the full one or a slightly tweaked one.

You didn't need to find an empty room to speak, because merely walking over to the staircase going up to what you assumed were bedrooms, allowed your privacy.

"I owe you an explanation" you speak lowly, unsure of where your confidence had run off to as you couldn't seem to look up at Wooyoung. "Look I don't know how I got tangled up in all of this and why you out of all people involved but I just, I have to say that I-" you struggle to explain, finger locking and squeezing into a palm as your brain seemed to handpick flickers of the attack and of you fainting at the club, flashing them in front of your eyes.

"Jisung is my nephew. He's been with me since my sister almost killed him and herself" You finally look up at Wooyoung whose face is ever as stoic, but this time you notice that no matter how hard he tried to withhold a reaction, his eyes did not follow. They twitched in worry as they intensely focused on reading every expression associated with your words "I think the guy at the club, who knew my name. I think he's targeting us. He- I was attacked and there is no way I can go back there. I don't even know if I can go outside right now. Fuck- for days I've been paranoid and watching my eyes step but-" the words come out by yourself before you can stop them. And once they start, they don't seem to finish as you go into a frenzy. Your body just couldn't handle it all anymore. Always be responsible for everything in your life, by yourself. Is it really that bad to need support? Even if it was from Wooyoung. What spurred you on more is that he didn't interrupt you. It frustrated you that he didn't act like an asshole even though you needed his help. It all angered you because it would add another problem to your neverending list; you growing fond of him.

Wooyoung reaches out to place his hand on your arm, sort of awkwardly yet so comforting without much effort. You really shouldn't have had a moment of weakness in front of him. For all you know, he could have cameras in his house, recording your breakdown and your secret nephew. Your heartbeat grows quickly as you realize your mistake of ranting and you turn around, as if not seeing him would help you in any way. The familiar cold sweat of panic sweeps over your palms and raises a ring in your ears.

"You were saying?"

"I- I can't stay here. Thank you um, Wooyoung but we can't stay here it was nice of you to offer-" You turn to offer the man a sweet smile but something tells you that this time, the show you put on wasn't close to good enough. And that was enough.

"Calm the fuck down" Wooyoung growls low and sternly, never raising his voice in case Jisung would hear. As much as he wanted to argue in disbelief about what you said when he had offered his home to you and your nephew, keeping you safe and driving you around, something else fueled his argument.

"Don't even try to pretend to be alright or whatever it is you do when you act like some "bullet"” he quotes in the air. "You need help so take it. If I wanted to hurt you, it would've been done ages ago. I'm not that petty and have enough money if you haven't noticed. I chose to help you but now you have to tell me what is going on because I don't have patience for bullshit or whatever crap you're trying to pull right now." And that is the moment you met the real Wooyoung. Not the foxy character at the club. Not even the one who drove you home. It's hard to admit that oftentimes you end up falling for the characters and masks other colleagues put on only to be reminded that they're also real people. This was a serious conversation and fuck, if you really are getting fucked over by him he really is a good actor.

You catch your breath, nodding slowly. Please don't be bad..please don't be bad you silently pray on the inside. You just really needed someone. And if it had to be Wooyoung then so be it.

"I'm being followed. I- I can't trust anybody and you must understand why. I don't have an apartment because moving around is safer. I got a message on my phone threatening me and then...today...when um-" you feel your throat thicken and Wooyoung didn't need further explanation that what you were talking about was the cause for your frightened eyes and desperate grip on him that he couldn't seem to shake off. One he knew too well.

"Breathe, just breathe okay? I know we aren't exactly...best of friends but I don't have intentions of hurting you" he hushes, recognising the rush of panic in your eyes. Those shiny eyes that he'd catch glaring at him from across the bar as he chatted up a client. He wouldn't admit it, but your reactions amused him more than his targets most of the time. The raw look of hatred and hunger for revenge stirred his stomach in exciting ways. When he'd look back and catch you flipping him off when he left with targets was something he even looked forward to. It was never something he took offence to...though maybe he should have.

But instead of the passion, your eyes were wide with terror. They were tired and silently pleaded for help even if your conscious mind didn't mean to make it seem that way. And how could Wooyoung stand watching your eyes become so dull?

"Just- stay here, for Jisung's sake. Figure out what you need and see it as a favour if it makes you feel any better." he finally concludes. Why was he agreeing so easily? A brief moment of silence settles between you. It was tempting but something about this was just too easy. How could one go from barely talking to living together? He is a conman still, and whatever sincerity he might show might just be a planned scheme to mess with you at your most vulnerable.

"Don't overthink it" Wooyoung says and doesn't let you answer as he turns to find Jisung again. Perhaps he didn't want to bruise his ego by becoming so available. Or he just couldn't stand looking into your eyes for a second longer. Whatever it was, it was settled and he has a new task. To help you.

"How does ordering food sound? Maybe we can plan to cook something later instead?" Wooyoung's tone is softer as he addresses Jisung. You hear it from a distance and wonder if he was experienced with kids. If he assumed you were a mother then what if he was...no, now you're reaching for something that isn't true. But why is it that a rock weighs down your chest at the thought of somebody being close enough to Wooyoung to create a family together? You had just stepped foot into his apartment. Apart from him being a con man, there was nothing you knew about him that could increase your attraction to him. Well apart from the physical at least. And if him calming you down from a panic attack and offering his home wasn't enough, seeing him interact with Jisung made it harder to believe all the paranoid lies you made up in your mind about him.

As the day progressed into night, the atmosphere seemed much lighter. You sit comfortably in the corner of Wooyoung's couch as he and Jisung yell over one another, PlayStation controllers in hands as they frantically push the colourful buttons. You were satisfied with just sitting ---there enjoying the relaxed atmosphere. Not Before long Jisungs eyes were struggling to stay open. You lock eyes with Wooyoung who seems to have noticed the boy dozing off with the PlayStation controller in his small hands.

"Ji-" you start but Wooyoung raises his hand to stop you from disturbing the younger's sleep. A small smile makes it to your lips at the thoughtfulness Wooyoung displayed. One side of you still reminded you to stay doubtful of his intentions. Sure, he was nice. But this came out of the blue after your little accident at the club. Certainly, people don't change during such a short time frame. You were rivals just a mere week ago.

You stand up as Wooyoung switches the game off. It was a silent agreement to move carefully to not wake Jisung up and as you reach down to pick the sleeping boy up, Wooyoung drives your hands away and instead sweeps the boy into his arms, carrying him over what you assumed was a guest room. The atmosphere that had settled over the apartment was calm and safe. Seeing Jisung in Wooyoung's embrace made your heart skip over a beat as you imagined how this would be if it was routine. No, why would this even be one? You follow Wooyoung through the maze that was his apartment and into a guestroom. He places Jisung on the bed, covering the sleeping boy with a fluffy blanket before nodding towards the door. With silent steps, you make it out of the room without waking Jisung.

"Thank you" your voice is barely a whisper, stuck in your throat from being so silent. You find your way back to the living room but Wooyoung doesn't stop walking, instead walking up the staircase with the expectance that you'd follow.

"If you are showing me to a room you don't have to, I can very well sleep with Jisung-" You stop right in front of a door, one of few existing on the floor.

"You can sleep where you want, but I'm sure sleeping in your clothes wouldn't be too comfortable now would it?" Wooyoung's words are barely heard as he mumbles. He seemed deep in thought about something ever since Jisung went to bed. He doesn't turn to look at you as he opens the lock to his safe space. His room. Judging by how Wooyoung usually would act at the club, his room must see multiple visitors every night. Nobody assumed that on the contrary, it was the only privacy he had left, hidden away from anybody to discover apart from you in this moment.

"Oh yeah- I'm sorry to ask this much of you really- I will bring some of my clothes. Or I'll buy some-" You realize that with the way you're imposing your stay on him and nervously try spit out anything that made sense. "-Only if it's okay that I bring some stuff I mean I don't have to stay here if you don't-"

"Lord, you really can't hold that tongue of yours when you're nervous, have you noticed?" But instead of sounding irritated, Wooyoung's lips are turned up at the corners in a cocky, familiar to you, smirk. "I offered and already told Jisung you'd stay so, take it while I'm being nice" he shrugs, unsure of how to really explain to you that he wanted to help. It's not like he could explain his own sudden interesting in volunteering, not even to himself fully.

For the first time ever you feel a heat settle at the apples of your cheeks, burning as Wooyoung turns around to rummage through his closet. You manage to look around his room. Although clean, it had its own unique messiness that added to or maybe explained Wooyoung's personality. His bed was somewhat made and recent clothes were stacked like a small hill on the back of a chair. Something about it only seems comforting though. It seemed real and like Wooyoung. It was safe. A fresh scent of bergamot and what you assumed was the natural smell of the man lingered in the air, poisoning you deeper into a state of attraction. He looks good, he dresses well, he flirts well and now he smells good too?

'He's barely above average height' you tell yourself, trying to find excuses that could convince you that this attraction was clouded by loneliness or desperation for something. But even then did your insides not give up their reaction to Wooyoung as he turned around with a shirt and some shorts in his grasp. They weren't folded, but they looked clean.

"Here, wear this for tonight and tomorrow I'll get someone to pick some things up for you and Jisung" he offered, moving closer until he stood in front of you. For someone with average height his magnetic energy sure was large, towering over you as it radiated from him. Especially from his piercing eyes. You hold your breath the second your eyes meet. You can't show him emotions, he'd see right through you and the confusing feelings you had developed for him. If he came just a step closer he would probably hear how your heart had started banging against your ribcage. The hue from a bedstand lamp accentuates the protruding veins on his toned forearms, bobbing whenever his arm tensed up.

For a second, your brain blanks out. Over the years working with men, you had learned to grow accustomed to their looks, affections and flirty ways. It had to be done in order to fully have control over them and complete your job. Whilst there were cases where staying evenminded was difficult, there had never been a case where a man could affect you so deeply just by existing in the same room as you. At some point, there would have to be a man that would successfully slither his way into your heart. Whether it was you growing up or just being a romantic, you knew it was bound to happen. Denying it would be childish. But could it be now? And could it really be with Wooyoung?

"-Unless you want to sleep naked of course" his comment is what brings you back. Wooyoung was now right in front of you. Did you really blank out that hard?

With a scoff, you take the clothes from him but find no strength to move. It's as if one look was enough to keep your body still. You wonder if he feels it too. The tension from the car, the accidental grazes of skin and now this. Blond hair really suits him you think, even more now that his golden skin is glowing so close to you. The urge to lean in and touch him itches at your hands and makes your body tense. As if the only thing that could relax the eager muscles is to finally touch him. You bet his skin is smooth and warm. But the rational voice in your brain reminds you that it would be risky. He could be playing you all along. The reminder of being careful makes your body shift. You look away from him then, scared that if you looked any longer that he'd take control of you. Just like you did to your victims. Just like he did to his. Would it really be that bad though?

"You're doing it again" his voice comes out hoarse, as if he also was struggling within. "You're torturing your brain with unnecessary thoughts". If he was this good at reading you already, what would happen if you stayed with him longer?

There's a long, silent pause.

"How could I not?" you whisper, as if speaking louder would break this moment. You see Wooyoung raise his hand up towards you and in the next moment, its warmth touches the skin of your cheek. Your lips part as breath escapes and you immediately look back at him. Whatever he was thinking about, must've been challenging to overpower. His brows knitted together as his Adam's apple bobs each time he nervously swallows. These were the only indicators giving you hope that maybe he felt something more.

Without saying anything, Wooyoung instead darts his eyes down to watch his thumb soothing circles into your skin. His own skin is slightly rough but it only affected you deeper with every trace. You carefully wrap your hand around his wrist, or at least whatever you could fit into your palm. Without another thought, you press his hand deeper into your cheek, eyes closing to enjoy whatever this moment was. You needed this. He made you feel calm and the past week had been nothing but the opposite. Whatever his intentions were, you decided it would be worth it.

"Look at me," he says lowly, voice thin as if he also feels the need to savour the moment carefully. You open your eyes, reconnecting the gaze and you're unsure if you're dizzy or if he had moved closer but you swore that just one move forward could put your lips onto his. Was this really happening? How could you ever bear seeing him at the club again if you let this happen? With a deep sigh and anxiety rising in your chest, you push his hand away from your cheek, instantly regretting as the warmth disappears.

"I'm tired from today, Wooyoung. I'm going to change and sleep" You force the words out and it's almost obvious by how monotone your voice sounds. Wooyoung clears his throat and looks away from you, nodding slightly to himself as his eyes fixated on a random object in the room.

"Good night, bullet" The nickname coming from him sounded unnatural. You felt like a stranger then and cursed yourself for ruining the moment. But it was for your and Jisung's safety.

"Good night" you whisper and exit his room, gritting your teeth harshly in hopes that it would take tension off your chest. Could you take it back? Turn around and kiss him? Would he accept it if you tried? He was right, you really had a tendency to torture your brain with thoughts.

You change into the clothes he had given you and slide into bed next to a sleeping Jisung, still in his clothes. You don't bother waking him and turn to lay on your side, closing your eyes as you tried focusing on any sound or smell. You blame it on being tired, but slowly reach your hand to bring the fabric of Wooyoung’s shirt up to your nose, inhaling the detergent and the natural smell in his closet. One of the scents that was usually mixed in with his cologne. A small smile spreads over your lips as you play over the fresh memory of him cupping your cheek. He looked at you as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. Yet his eyes never held any expectation over you. He never crossed a line and seemed to sense the exact amount of what was needed. And you wanted it more. He is successfully swindling your heart.

#heart swindler #wooyoung x reader #ateez #ateez reactions #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez fic #enemies to lovers #ateez au #kpop reactions #wooyoung fluff

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five-rivers · 1 year

Text

Based off of Dante's Disec Bingo.

Danny woke slowly, softly, aware of muted light falling over his face, filtered by his curtains. He turned over, snuggling more deeply into the cushions and blankets around him. A blanket brushed over his front and dull ache down his front became a prickling, burning stripe of agony, from groin to sternum, radiating up to his shoulders.

He gasped and curled in, suddenly painfully awake.

What– Where– When– How–

He didn’t remember getting an injury like this. He didn’t– He didn’t–

It hurt. Hands shaking, he pulled his blankets away, revealing a chest swathed in clean, white bandages. He touched them. There was something underneath that hurt. It hurt.

What had happened? He looked around for his phone. Sam and Tucker would know what– No, they had moved out for college years ago. They had… No, they’d come back after they graduated. They… Where was his phone?

His phone wasn’t here. Not on his bed, not on his bedside table, not on the floor.

He had to see.

With steadiness that came from years of experience, he stripped the bandages off layer by layer. When he was done, what was left was…

His breath caught in his throat. No, no, no, no, it couldn’t be.

It was.

An autopsy scar, clear as day.

He stared at it for a long minute, barely daring to breathe. A tiny whine built in his throat, eventually escaping. The sound jolted him into action. He couldn’t stay here. He had to go.

Danny had maintained a go-bag for years. It wasn’t because of his parents. Rather, it wasn’t just because of his parents. There were so many other people that were more of a threat, especially once his lack of aging became obvious and coming clean to his parents became necessary.

Or so he’d thought. Autopsy scars didn’t just materialize while you were asleep in bed. They had to be put there. By people.

He didn’t think they would ever do it. He didn’t think they would ever do it. He didn’t think they would ever do it. Ever.

Jazz had thought otherwise. Not seriously, maybe, or else she would have made him come with her when she moved for her residency. But she had never fully dismissed the possibility. Neither had Sam.

Apparently, they were just smarter than Danny.

He didn’t move quickly. Jumping from his bedroom window had been painful, and he didn’t want to see what his ghost form looked like. He was scared. He was so scared. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so scared.

He pulled the hood of his hoodie down lower, aware of how strange he must look in the sweltering heat. Why was it so hot? Temperatures usually didn’t get this high until August.

It didn’t matter. Sam’s house wasn’t far.

Maybe he should have gone into the Ghost Zone instead. But to do that, he’d have to go down into the lab. He didn’t want to go into the lab.

But Sam’s house loomed–

No. That wasn’t her house anymore. She had an apartment downtown.

He leaned against a nearby power pole, dizzy and confused. Why was he having so much trouble today? He never slipped up like this, except when… When…

Well, waking up with an autopsy scar probably wasn’t good for his mental health.

Paper crinkled under his elbow, and he looked down to see–

Himself. A faded color printout of Phantom grinned up at him sandwiched between the words INFORMATION WANTED ON PARKER PARK INCIDENT and REWARD. A picked over fringe of telephone numbers hung off the bottom. The paper looked weeks old, at least.

Danny didn’t remember any incident in Parker Park worth a reward, least of all one he was involved in. He hadn’t even had a fight there since… He didn’t know. He reached down and pulled up one of the telephone number strips so he could see what was written on it.

He… he felt like he recognized it.

He shook his head. He had to get a move on, get to Sam’s apartment.

The sun looked strange. The light looked strange. All the wrong angles, shining down the streets and humming off the sidewalks with a high, headache-inducing buzz. His go bag hung heavy on his shoulders, biting into the stitches that inched up his clavicle with every step.

He didn’t want to be here.

He couldn’t go back.

Could he go forward? How long had he been missing? Had they noticed he was gone yet?

Would they come after him?

He was breathing too fast. Running too hot. Almost human temperature, and clammy with it. Had he picked up an infection? Was it shock?

The shadows of a nearby alleyway beckoned invitingly. He just needed a moment to rest, and he’d be on his way again.

He stepped into the tunnel-like alleyway. It was cool, almost cold. The light didn’t reach all the way down, but glinted green off of glass in the concrete. Why anyone would put decorative concrete in an alley, though, was beyond him.

He walked deeper, trailing his fingers along the left-hand wall, fiddling with the hoodie of his zipper with his other hand. This alley seemed so familiar. But of course it would. For that matter, he was intimately familiar with most dumpsters. He’d been protecting this city for over a decade, now. It would be stranger if he didn’t recognize this alley on some level. But–

He hissed and pulled his hand away from the wall. Something had cut his palm. He glowered at the wall. He did not need an infection from some… alley…

Since when was he wearing gloves?

He turned his hands over, the black plastic reflecting the little green lights all around him.

And then the lights weren’t so little.

Green flared ahead of him, brighter than neon, an electric, impossible glory. Brighter than life. Brighter than death.

And he screamed.

“Thank you so much for calling us,” said Maddie. “When we went up to check on him this morning and he was gone…” She didn’t finish the sentence, settling instead for checking Danny’s vitals again.

“Least I could do,” said Dash, his smile tight and strained. He fidgeted with the work gloves stuck through his belt. “Is he going to be okay?”

“He’ll be fine.” She hoped. She’d been hoping, ever since Danny had– Since what happened last April in Parker Park.

“I’ve never heard him scream like that before. Even last spring.”

Maddie pressed her lips together. “I know, it’s just… side effects.” Of what, she didn’t say. Of the near-fatal wound he’d taken back in April? Of his half-death eleven years ago today? Of whatever kept the scar from his emergency surgery from healing all these months? Both? All? Neither? None?

She didn’t know.

“He’s been getting better,” she said.

“Yeah, I’ve heard,” said Dash.

“This was just a bad day.”

Danny groaned, head turning away from her.

“It’s okay, sweetie, Dad will be here soon.” Jack had been looking for him across town. It would take another few minutes for him to get the GAV, and the medical supplies best suited for Danny, here.

“I hope you find the bastard that did it,” said Dash. “I hope he rots in hell, doing that after all Danny’s done. If that’s worth anything.”

“I’m sure Danny would be happy to hear it,” said Maddie, trying not to feel too brittle with the knowledge that Danny might not remember enough to make a statement like that mean anything to him, no matter how pretty the sentiment.

“Mom?”

“I’m here, Danny. Do you remember what happened?”

“The portal… I was… The portal?”

Really not a good day, then. But he squeezed her hand, and it was better than being limp and insensate.

“I should go,” said Dash, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve got work. You guys gonna be okay?”

The sound of the GAV shrieking down the street was distinctive. Maddie forced one more smile. It would be the last one today. “We’ll be fine.”

#danny phantom #fic

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thefanboyhub · 2 months

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Bronte headcanons?!??!

(Sorry if I've already asked you that)

Do you want to give Bronte a kiss on the forehead and cuddles???

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH I LOVE HIM MORE THI OBVI ALSO YESSSSSSS I DO AND YES I WILL GIVE YOU MY HEADCANNONS

He started the whole vampire shit with humans. He was so emo and brooding and all that silly stuff when humans were around and it made the myth/legend of vampires.

He actually loves his curly hair but refuses to be taken as a joke so he keeps his hair buzzed. (Too many people said he looked soft with his curly hair long)

If he were to step down from the council it would be to adopt a child. DONT ASK ME WHY I JUST HAVE A FEELING HE WOULD OK.

Use to be reckless and wild until he accident hurt people he cares about which set him down the path to becoming what he is today.

Is more up to date with the times than any other ancient elf. He is actually surprisingly patient and loves to learn the new stuff no matter how hard he tries to bullshit it and say he doesn't care and all that emo bs.

If he cares about you he's very attentive and does a lot of silent acts of service; like making food and having it sent to you and all that jazz. But it's hard for anyone to get in his heart, mostly because he takes his job seriously.

Definitely not straight. His sassy ass is most definitely bisexual but also not really into anyone. He just thinks everyone is hot and doesn't think much farther than that.

The OG emo/goth but when he was younger he was the OG punk/scene kid. Don't ask, I just know it ok.

When not sober he's literally the softest and silliest guy ever: one time he flirted with Emery while drunk (he made an excuse the next day saying he thought Emery was a women while drunk. It was a lie. He knew.)

Switches from the parent of the council to the bratty child who doesn't like complying with the group.

Very close with Oralie, even before Sophie. He was one of the few people to support her and actively gossips with her. They are besties your honor.

He used to be much sillier and laid back when he first joined the council but after the thousands of years and all that he's seen he learned to become cold and do what has to do.

Out of all the council he would be the least likely to have his mind shatter from guilt: especially if the guilt would be murder of any kind. He's seen a lot and he's desensitized to it in a sense. He wouldn't feel an ounce of guilt if it was to protect the helpless.

He is very against hurting helpless people in any kind. He was only aggressive with Sophie because he knew she wasn't helpless and that she was probably dangerous; He never wished her to be harmed in the way she was. Even when inflicting he went easy on her.

I also think he only basically bullied Sophie to push her to be better to prove him wrong. He did not want her to be evil, so he was the bad that pushed her to do good ifykwim.

Likes to nap any chance he gets. He just likes how comfy his bed is tbh.

Not fond of land animals unless they're fluffy as all hell and adores sea creatures.

Use to hate change when he was younger and now he's so used to change that he handles it the best out of anyone on the council.

Mourns his old friends as if they were dead because he cannot connect with anyone due to his job. Secretly thinks of Oralie and Emery as his friends but never tell him. (They know and they also don't say anything.)

Emery and Him have kissed. I just know it.

Disassociates a lot. Dawg is traumatized, like he's been alive for how long? Ain't no way he ain't traumatized.

Anyways

That's all <3

(I could make this man smile I swear I could. Like I could make him happy. Once chance Bronte PLEASE. AGE IS JUST A NUMBER 😭/J)

#thefanboyhub #thefanboy #thefanboyhub rambles #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc #kotlc fandom #kotlc thoughts #kotlc bronte #ask #answering asks #I LOVE HIM HES MY BBG #also im dissociated a little so if the post is funky i apologize #byeeeeee

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klaissance · 3 months

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Do you have any dad klance headcannons?

Thank you so much for asking dear sweet asker I appreciate you so much. I actually,,, lowkey don't? Dad!Klance is not something I think about that much, I think bc as a teenage girl in my 20s I am not in a parent/family space that often BUT FOR YOU IMMA TRY HERE WE GO:

for starters I think they're really good at it let's get that straight from the jump

Lance always wanted to be a parent I think--comes from a big family, has watched his siblings become parents, is obsessed with his cool uncle status, has always seen parenthood ahead as something to look forward to

Keith is the opposite, never in a million bazillion years thought that was in the cards for him

he's gay so that came with its own list of things to be worried about that would be difficult in terms of, like, acquiring a child, plus he just sort of had a shitty time as a kid, has a funny relationship with the words "parent" and "dad" and hasn't had the time to hash that out with a therapist because he's been in space

really truly Keith is a feral desert child and when presented with the thought of turning a small being into an adult suitable for society his brain shorts out

...until they get together

actually, both of them flip on this while they're in space OKAY NOW WE'RE COOKING

Lance, my poor sweet darling prince, is a little less sold on children. He grows up hard and fast and violent in the intergalactic war they're thrust into, sees terrible things happen to good people all over the place, sees kids left parentless and parents lose a child, sees himself nearly die more times than he can count (oop that one time he did die lol), and suddenly the idea of kids in the future isn't tinted golden and sparkling with the memories of his childhood. He's an adult and anything could happen and it's terrifying and hard and he knows he loves what he does--loves helping people, loves interacting with children, wants to teach or something later for sure maybe--but the actual parenting is soured by the thought of his mom back home thinking her son is dead and not even having the closure of a burial or anything. He learns that nothing is certain in the way he used to think it was, and stops expecting specific things for his future

Klance gets together [how?? girls idk any infinite number of ways that is every post I'll ever make until the end of time but not this one--trust though it was juicy] and they stay together while they're fighting the space war, and slowly and then all at once Keith "Lone Wolf" "Not A Family Man" "Feral Desert Orphan" "Kids What Are Those" Kogane is, like,,,, thinking about his life and his future beyond like,,, the next hour,,, and is imagining kids in the picture??? trust it shocks him too

This actually is a version of their relationship that I really like thinking about! Lance pivots on all of his hopes and dreams that he'd had all his life about certain milestones for things--marriage, kids, the white picket fence and all that jazz--and throws it all out the window. Because piloting magical sentient lions in a space war is fucking crazy and life is nothing like what he thought and what is important to him reshapes; it isn't the milestones it is the feelings they represent, the security and companionship he is seeking, the fulfillment he can find from interacting with others in different ways. Keith is the opposite; he never thought any of the milestones were important because he assumed they were for other, non-broken people. People--not him--who could have nice things like spouses and houses and children to raise in their image or whatever. And to make a long and introspective story short he gets to hold Lance's hand and suddenly all of those nice things are back on the table and he gets to want them and finds out that he does

I guess this is where it gets fuzzy for me I've seen some things where they space adopt and that's really fun and fresh

Or they wait until they get back to Earth after having the Cool Uncle Era with Lance's nieces and nephews which is my shit i love cool uncle klance

I do think I subscribe to them adopting older children out of the foster system as opposed to however infant adoption works

but any way you slice it Keith is So Pressed About Getting It Right he's reading books he's asking Shiro and then wanting to die because Shiro is So Cringe about his caretaking advice UGH

and Lance is back in a comfy phase about it now that they've decided to do it, regaling Keith when he freaks out with tales of times he and his siblings totally almost died or that crazy shit happened or that his parents did x y z totally sideways--his point being: and look how well it turned out anyway

the important thing is that when they do have children they love them more than anything and demonstrate a positive healthy relationship for them and they try to meet them where they are and also give them opportunities to grow and be happy and therefore it all works out perfect :)

Also as an added bonus here are some of my favorite depictions of dad!Klance for your perusal:

deerstalkerdeathfrisbee's True Love or Something ok these were like my earliest favorite fics ever when I tell you this raised me and reset my brain chemistry I am being so serious. They aren't dadding until later in the series [THIS ONE] but actually the whole thing is so excellent

that,,, actually is the only one coming to mind right now but people SOUND OFF IF YOU HAVE ANY MORE PLS <3 i will return to this post with more if i find any

I hope this was good for you obviously I just stream-of-conscious dumped into the text box but it was super fun to do, if anybody has any other prompting thoughts I would love to ideate more I just,,,, love thinking about them so much,,,, ok everybody have a great day!!

#ask and you shall receive #klance headcanons #dad!klance #klance #vld headcanons #my writing #nobody ever asked me for my thoughts before this is crazy #please somebody ask me something again this was so fun #ok anon ily hope this scratched your itch a little #long post

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questionablequeeries · 1 year

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Somebody To Love by Queen

Steve’s days were a circle of bullshit (you’re bullshit). He forced himself from bed and did up his hair as if to maintain an air of his former glory, barely able to look at himself in the mirror without glaring at his own reflection, staggered to work, plastered a smile on his face for his friends, rinse and repeat. Day in and day out, and nobody saw that he was dying little by litt-

“You look like shit.”

“…Excuse me?” Steve blinked out of his stupor, adjusting that bullshit (you’re bullshit) little sailor hat. There in front of him was Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson, a man he hated to admit he was jealous of, especially after their many conversations revealing just how much of a nerd the other was. Still, Eddie never had to worry about his image or what others thought of him, could actively sell drugs while selling records from across Scoops, wore nail polish and jewelry and everything Steve was too much of a coward to do.

“No offense, it’s just…I know what it looks like when you’re smiling but not really.” Eddie explained, drumming his fingers against the counter, “Trust me, I get it. What’s eating you?”

Steve opened his mouth to argue, but what came out was, “My life is bullshit.” He was expecting an eye roll, a proclamation that he had rich parents, a big house, all the parties he’d ever want to throw, so why was he compl- a finger flicked his forehead, pulling a sound of confusion.

“Steve, I come over here every day to eat ice cream and talk to you.” Eddie crossed his arms, “Not once have I ever heard you say something good about yourself! In fact, your favorite pastime seems to be shittalking yourself!” He let out a soft huff that reminded Steve of an angry kitten, “You have people who genuinely seem to care about you, you’re absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful,” Wait, what? “You’re shockingly smart, and you deserve to be happy.”

“Eddie, that’s…nice and everything, but flattery won’t get you extra sprinkles.” Steve was trying to deflect now.

“I watch you every day, striking out with people who you know wouldn’t make you happy.” Eddie refused to allow the distraction, “You…Do you really think you’re not worthy of genuine, true love?” He didn’t wait for an answer, “You’ve already surrounded yourself with it, from Buckley to those kids of yours, so why do you not let any of it in?” He shook his head, “What you need is somebody who can teach you how to be loved. Somebody who won’t just stop because you’re fantastic at self-sabotage.” He hid his mouth with a lock of his hair, “Somebody like me.” And he grabbed Steve’s hand, scribbling down his number with a Sharpie.

Steve wasn’t even upset at the way that permanent marker had been used on him, just sort of stupefied at Hurricane Munson blowing in to shake his world before turning to leave, “Wait!” He finally found his voice, “You forgot your ice cream!” He wanted to spend more time with Eddie, maybe muster up the courage for an actual date.

This was where Steve learned just how much of an idiot and/or a tease Eddie was because he merely smirked, “I’m lactose intolerant.” And then he walked out of the store.

Steve’s jaw dropped, broken out of his stunned silence by a whistle from the window. He turned to see Robin strike exactly one line in the You Rule column, perform just about the most sarcastic jazz hands he’d ever seen, and then close the shutters. He was left to stare at the messy chicken scratch on his hand, that fake smile becoming a little more real as he burned each number into his brain and his heart.

@steddie-week is doing a week of prompts, and I’ll try to do one a day! I’m also posting mine on ao3, if you’d rather read them that way!

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #robin buckley #fanfic #steddieweek2023 #questionable writes #music fic

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underforeversgrace · 9 months

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Fic Stats Game

Rules: Give us the links to your fic with the most hits, second most kudos, third most comments, fourth most bookmarks, fifth most words, and fic with the least words.

@jackdaw-sprite thanks for the tag! I enjoy both being tagged in shit and doing the tag games! Let's fuckin gooooo! All data is from AO3 and does not include Tumblr information, nor stories posted only to Tumblr.

Most Hits: broken trust and the wounds hidden behind

This one is actually my highest by a significant amount! At the time of this post, it's at 6,463 hits. My number two story is at 3,814

Jack wasn't meaning to snoop in his son's room when he found a box of medical supplies and a USB with a tag that said IF I DON'T COME HOME. Danny’s secrets revealed, Jack is desperate to earn his son’s trust, to earn the right to this secret he stumbled across. After almost two years of unknowingly hunting his son, is Danny's trust too broken to heal?

Second Most Kudos: by your grave (the monster we made)

This one is second for pretty much all stats!

Maddie knew Danny kept secrets, it was a topic they didn’t discuss. But when she sees scars she knows he couldn’t have, she knows she can’t keep pretending. She just needs to figure out those scars.

Third-Most Comments: the walls you hide behind (I saw the truth inside the real you)

I'm actually suprised by that one! It's only been coming out for the past two-ish weeks!

Jazz is tired of the ghosts, tired of her parents not doing enough, tired of Phantom's recklessness and her brother's persistent exhaustion. When she yells all of her frustration at her parents after nearly getting killed by a ghost, she gets sent to Vlad's mansion in Wisconsin for the weekend - where she's offered a chance. She could have the ability to fight back, protect her brother and her town. Jazz leaps at the prospect. When she returns to Amity Park at the end of the weekend, it's with abilities and strength of her own, and she's fueled by anger and disdain. And she's got her eyes, first, on Danny Phantom.

Fourth-Most Bookmarks: Welcome to Intro to Ghosts

Man I really should update that fic shouldn't I?

Sure, turning sixteen was supposed to be a big year regardless, but this was a little beyond what Danny had expected when he'd both been told he was now king and then asked to be a teacher for the Intro to Ghosts class while also being a junior in high school. Now he has to juggle a secret identity, being a superhero, doing centuries worth of old paperwork Pariah didn't do, his own schoolwork, AND his students/classmates schoolwork! This'll be fun. Or catastrophic. Hopefully fun.

Fifth-Most Words: healing the wounds we hid

This is the sequel to broken trust, mentioned earlier! It's actually going to be my second highest word count (it's full draft is roughly 38k, but for where I am in posting, it's at number 2!) Once it's posted by your grave (the monster we made) (also referenced earlier), will be the actual number five.

Least Words: fang u for ur help

At a paltry 345 words, this is the shortest fic I've posted to AO3. It's a silly like DannyMay thing bc the idea was funny and didn't need to be any more than it is.

Danny has fangs and questions. DannyMay2023 Day 16: Fangs

Tags: GAH I HAVE NO IDEA WHO'S BEEN TAGGED AND WHO TO TAG. Ummmm. @scarletsaphire @lexosaurus @strawberrycamel, and anyone else who wants to!

#grace writes #tag game

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scarletsaphire · 10 months

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*slams hands on the table* CHALLENGE MODE SAM/EMBER GOOOOO

Sam sat on the sofa, one leg folded under her and the other on the ground. The sofa was uncomfortable, the one that her parent's used for important, stuffy guests they wanted to impress but didn't want hanging around too long. Normally, Sam avoided it, and her parents in general, like the plague, but right now her hard work was finally coming to fruition. She could deal with some minor back pain to watch the fireworks.

"So," Pamela asked, her voice strained and her face frozen in her practiced facsimile of perfection. "How did you and our dear Sammikins meet?"

Ember, who was lounging on the sofa next to Sam with her feet propped up on the expensive coffee table, didn't answer at first. She was busy picking something out of her teeth with her finger. It took Pamela clearing her throat two separate times for Ember to answer her, and that was mostly because Ember had finished getting whatever it was free. Sam was glad her parents had hammered in how to keep a perfectly pure smile on her face from such a young age; Ember was playing her part magnificently, and Sam needed to act none the wiser.

"Oh, I like, mind controlled her whole school. And most everyone else in the town," Ember answered. "Surely you've heard of me. I went through a lot of effort for everyone to remember my name." Ember gestured to the guitar laying across her lap. Sam elbowed her in the side. Despite the fact that it didn't hurt (Sam had seen Ember get thrown through multiple walls before. Sam might have been strong, but she wasn't that strong) Ember made a show of rubbing her side. "Aw, babe, what was that for?"

Sam was looking at Ember, but she kept her focus on her parents out of the corner of her eye. She didn't miss their flinch at the pet name, and she had to fight to keep her genuine glee from showing on her face. "You've been hanging out with Danny too much."

"Yea, well, it's your fault for introducing us," Ember said. "Can't blame me for liking him, kids got good taste. He was chasing after you for a while, after all."

Pamela inhaled sharply through her nose. Jeremy's eye twitched. They were small signs, but Sam knew them well. She was wearing down their nerves at record breaking speeds, and she wasn't about to stop now. Not when the plan was working so well.

"Yes, the...Fenton boy," Jeremy said. "Surely, someone of your...status wouldn't be interested in hanging around his type?"

"Oh, you mean cause I'm a ghost?" Ember said. Sam noted the tightening of his grip on the arm chair. "Nah, I've seen the ghost hunters around. I could blow their asses out of the water any day of the week. Honestly, its kind of rude that you think I couldn't. That's like, rule number one of ghosts, y'know? It's kind of like prison, if prison was cool and came with laser beams. Survival of the fittest and all that jazz."

Pamela opened her mouth to speak. If Sam had to guess, it would probably be asking if Ember had ever been in prison; she wouldn't ask about the ghost stuff where Ember could hear her; not only was her parents still scared of ghosts, they also refused to be considered knowingly rude. At least, to anyone with sway. Ember may be dead, but she was famous, at least around Amity Park. That counted for something in their eyes. Whatever Pamela had to say didn't matter, as Ember swung her feet off of the coffee table and started talking again.

"Speaking of jazz, you got some cool vinyls in here! I'm sure you don't mind if I play some of them? I'm kinda big on music, if you couldn't tell." Ember didn't wait for permission, grabbing one of the records (meticulously hung on the wall to give a semblance of culture and spontaneity to the room. Not that Sam's parents had ever listened to a single one of them; it was all part of posturing.) and slipping it onto the record player.

"Of course." Sam could almost hear the tension in her mom's voice, breaking through her carefully constructed softness. "I'm sure Jeremy will be happy to show you around our collection while I have a word with Sammikins. Out. Side." And there was the teeth clenching fury Sam had been after. She glanced at the grand clock in display on the fireplace mantle. It had barely taken four minutes from Ember's arrival to reach red in the face Pamela. A record by nearly two and a half minutes.

Pamela's fingers locked around Sam's wrist, hard enough to hurt but not hard enough to bruise. Sam struggled, but it was mostly for show. She could break the grip if she wanted to; her mother made it a point to be "feminine" which, to her, meant weak, and Sam was anything but. That wasn't the play here. No, she was following the plan, and the plan had her following. At least for now.

As soon as the door to the formal sitting room was shut behind them, Pamela turned on Sam with all of her carefully hidden fury unmasked. "Just what do you think you're doing, bringing one of those things into our house?" she hissed, not letting go of Sam's wrist.

"First off she's not a thing, mom," Sam replied, slipping venom into her voice. Maybe a bit too much venom, actually. That should be for later. Indignant fury would be better. "And she can hear you. Ghosts have better hearing than we do."

Pamela narrowed her eyes at Sam as if trying to gauge how truthful Sam was being. Finally, she dragged Sam a few doors down. "Do you think it," the pronoun was said with emphasis. "can hear us here?"

"Probably not," Sam lied. "I don't get what the big deal is! You told me that if I was to date someone of my choosing, then they had to be of influence, well known and well liked, and self sufficient! Last I checked, Ember ticked all those boxes."

"I didn't think you would go so far as to coercing with one of those things! Its dangerous and volatile, and dead! I know you are going through the whole spooky dead thing phase, but I thought you'd at least be reasonable enough to draw the line at speaking to one of them. And then you show up saying you're dating one of them?" Pamela dropped Sam's wrist in favor of pacing a small circle in the hallway and wringing her hands together nervously. "It tried to kidnap us! It tried to mind control the whole town! It admitted to it!"

"She," Sam said. Now was the time to add the venom. "is not an it. And how do you know she hasn't changed! It's not like she hurt anyone. It was all just..." One beat, two, three. Just enough to make it seem like she was searching for words. "...ghost fun."

"And what about when it wants to have this 'ghost fun' with you?" Pamela snapped, her voice ever so slightly louder than her normal speaking voice. Perfect. "Please, Sammikins. I'm just trying to look out for you. It isn't safe."

"No, I don't have to listen to this! I love her, mom!" Sam raised her own voice to just barely below a shout. That was the signal. "I love her, and there's nothing you can do about it! I tried to follow all of your dumb rules, and the one person I could find that actually gets me isn't good enough for you!" Sam felt the corners of her eyes prickle. She shifted her focus to meat plants, factory farms, and that one scene from Derrick Disassembled where the android was stripped for melting. The prickle turned to tears. Her mascara would run, but that was the point. It was more dramatic that way. "You can't control who I love, mom! So either let me live my own life without any of these stupid rules, or I'll..." She choked on her words. She needed to make them seem genuine, like this was a difficult decision. Like she wouldn't go back on them. "I'll run away with her! She can take me to the ghost zone, where you won't be able to get between us."

"Samantha Manson!" Pamela practically shrieked. "Think about what you're saying! You'd rather-"

Ember appeared to Sam's side, materializing out of thin air. "I heard yelling," she said, eyes narrowing and flame ponytail burning high enough to singe the ceiling. "Do you wanna get out of here?"

Sam gave one tense nod, before she felt invisibility wash over her. As soon as they were out of ear shot, Sam let her fake sobs turn into real laughter. Ember snickered with her.

"You did good back there! I didn't know ya had it in you!" Ember said after they came to a halt in the airspace above the Manson Mansion.

Sam wiped at the tracks of mascara on her face. "I've had a lot of practice. You did great too. I thought my dad might have an aneurysm."

Ember laughed. "You should've seen him after you left. I was poking around his vases and stuff and dropped one. Didn't break, but I think he was about to."

"Oh yea, that'd do it." Sam grabbed her phone out of her pocket. Already, she had three texts and four missed calls from both of her parents. She turned off the phone. "So, are we calling it a night here, or...?"

"Is there anywhere in this place that does karaoke nights or something?" Ember asked after a moment. "Not that I didn't enjoy this, but I think a proper night out might be nice."

"There's a place I know that does live slam poetry," Sam suggested. "Not quite music, but I'm sure they wouldn't mind if you brought your guitar up with you."

"Sounds good to me."

#danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #sam manson #ember mclain #sam manson/ember mclain #ask game #pamela manson #jeremy manson #somber sear

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sadsoftserve · 5 months

Text

-Promises- An EE minific

(this is angsty. Really angsty. It's Bonnies backstory breaked down into a simple ~1,800 word one shot. This contains REALLY SENSITIVE CONTENT. The mentions of Domestic abuse, SA, and attempted murder. PLEASE IF ANY OF THIS TRIGGERS YOU AND OR MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE. DO. NOT. READ. This is oc centric. Focuses on Bonnie, with mentions of her mom (Reseda) and her uncle, Ramsey..Not canon to EE. This is Fanwork)

Most of my early childhood was spent blocking out the screams of my parents, and hiding in the moist attic playing with whatever old anquite I could find. No matter what happened within the day, my drunk ‘dad’ would always find a way to beat me or my mother. I stayed as far as I could from them, out of fear it would happen to me. My mother was an amazing woman, Reseda Murdoch was her name, she worked tirelessly at a local library to support me and the drunk she was with. When she worked she often took me with her, she didn't want to leave me alone with the man who frequently beat us.

“Bonnie, baby, come on…” My mother gently cooed. “You know what happens when we’re late.” She loudly whispered as I sped up to match where she was walking. I didn't talk much as a kid, I had no need too. If I did speak it was because I absolutely had too. I shared a lot of physical attributes with my mom, the olive green eyes, and the red hair were the most prevalent. As we walked down the streets of the hood part of Sweet Jazz, my mother held my hand and prayed. Like she always did. She wasn't religious, just hopeful. Hopeful that one day the bastard would drop dead from alcohol poisoning or a drive-by. Me and my mother walked fast, the sooner we arrived the lesser the beating would be.

The closer we got to the house the more anxious my mother got. If we were lucky the bastard would already be asleep and we would go the day unscathed.

Other days, we weren't so lucky. Like today, as soon as we walked through the door his abhorrent screaming was heard. From where I was standing I could smell the alcohol on his breath. The slurring I was used to, the smell got worse every time I inhaled it. “Wher’ the hell have you beeen!” He grabbed my mother's collar and she let out a yelp. “Keep yer’ mouth shut, whore!” He broke the bud light bottle over her shoulder as she dropped to the ground, holding back tears. She couldn't cry in front of him, if she did it would get worse. He spat in front of her and threw the bottle down next to her. “Get me another ‘ne."

My mother nodded as she quickly stood up and ran to the kitchen to grab the beer he had yelled for. He glared at me. He didn't like me. Not one bit. I was his plaything. Something he could manipulate and play with at his leisure. I didn't know it was a crime. Looking back on it, the nights he would beat my mom so bad to the point of unconsciousness, were the nights he used me. I was five. I was barely a child, and yet he found it amusing to make me do things for him and his friends. Things I didn't know were bad or taboo. He touched me In places I didn't know were private to me. He did the same to my mother, but worse. I could hear her screams, and his beatings as he brutally assaulted my mother. My mother often found herself confiding in my uncle. She called him on our old landline we kept in the attic.

“Ramsey… I can't do this anymore…” She sobbed out into the landline, I was never able to hear my uncle's voice on the other line. But I'd always imagine he sounded like a superhero. Like one from the cartoons. Looking back on it I should've known that's not what he sounded like, but the way my mother talked about him made him seem like a hero. “No… don't do that… he’ll- he’ll beat me worse…” Another unnervingly lengthy pause. She nodded and started to jot down a long string of numbers on an old bill. “O-okay… I'll try. Thank you…” She hung up. She looked at me. I was her pride and joy, she loved me more than she loved herself. Was as fiddling with an old doll I kept up there. “Bonnie… baby, come here.”

I obeyed her actions and went to her sitting in her lap, as she stroked my hair. “Love, your hair is getting so long… it almost looks like mine…” she sighed. “Bonnie, you can talk around me… you don't have to be quiet all the time…” I shrugged. I didn't like speaking. Everytime I did I would be told to shut up by the man who dared to call himself my ‘father’. She sighed once more. “We’ll be out of here soon. I promise. Its gonna be me and you against the world.” She smiled softly.

I leaned my head against her chest and closed my eyes. Listening to her heartbeat. It had an irregular pattern, but it was still soothing. I found myself falling asleep on her as she hummed a simple tune.

A lot of my nights were spent like this. Cradled up in my mother's arms, years went by, repeating the same cycle of abuse. My mother, beaten and sexually assaulted, I, beaten and sexually assaulted. I was about 9 when ‘The incident' happened. That's what me and my uncle call it. It was December 27th, a cold, windy night for Sweet Jazz. Instead of spending my nights on the attic, I spent it outside. I would play with rocks, sticks, or any snake I could find. The usual screaming match was happening inside, bottles being thrown, punches landing, I was used to it. This particular night I was playing with a small wooden snake I had gotten for Christmas, it was small and bendy. I found myself growing fond of it. I was in my own little world, when the sounds of a gunshot were heard, and the blood curdling scream of my mother followed. The neighbors lights turned on as they heard the screams of my mother.

The gates between our houses were simple wired fences. Missus Poppy lived next door, she was an older woman, about in her mid sixties. She ran outside upon hearing my mom's scream. Her bonnet and fluffy robe swayed in the late night chill. “Bonnie..? What's going on?” She asked me, I simply shrugged my shoulders.

“I don't know…” I said meekly. Missus Poppy ran around her house to the front door, which she banged on.

“Ray! Reseda! What on god's green earth is going on!” Her voice was loud, it awoke some of the other people on the block. We lived in the hood, hearing a gunshot wasn't rare, but it wasn't common either. We were a tight knit community, everyone looking out for one another, but my mom hid our abuse so well, no one suspected we were being abused. “I swear Ray, I have the police on speed dial!” My father answered the door, gun in his hand. He swung it open, letting the scene of what just happened be seen by everyone on our porch. Missus Poppys face fell immediately, and her dark skin turned a shade lighter. She put her hands over her mouth as she put her arm in front of me.

I saw it all. It was graphic. He shot my mother. Right in the stomach. She was barely clinging onto life. I pushed past missus Poppy, and my ‘father’. I didn't care if he shot me, do it, I couldn't care anymore. I ran to her side, stepping in the grotesque amount of blood spilling out of her. The authorities and my uncle were already being called. “Momma…?” I said, tears spilling from my eyes.

“...Bon-nie… baby…” She lifted a weak hand to put on my face. She gently caressed it. “Baby… I don't think mommas gonna make it…” she winced in pain as she held her stomach with her free hand. I could see the life slowly draining from her, and I didn't want that to happen.

“But… what about our promise…? You promised you'd always be here for me… you said everything would get better…” I cried. My knees were soaking up the blood that was on the floor. My once purple leggings were now stained red, with my own mother's blood.

“B-baby… I'm sorry…” She said, her own tears spilling from her eyes. “I… want you to know…” The sounds of ambulances and police sirens were heard outside, along with the angry shouts of my uncle. “I want… you to know… that whatever happens… I'll still be here with you… and that… I'll love you no matter what… okay..?”

I nodded. “Okay… promise?” I asked.

“Promise…” She gave me a pinky promise. The paramedics quickly came and scooped her away. Nine year old me was left on the kitchen floor, kneeing in a puddle of my mother's own blood. I was in shock… then I broke down. I let out blood curdling wails of pain and grief. I was nine.

No nine year old should go through that.

The police had to hold back my uncle from completely beating my ‘father’ to death. At this point in time, I believe he was out on parole. The police were trying to make sure he didn't break it. He was shouting curses, profanity of all kinds.

“COUNT YOUR FUCKIN’ DAYS RAY! JUST WAIT TILL I GET BACK INTO PRISON! COUNT YOUR MOTHERFUCKIN’ DAYS!” I had never seen my uncle so angry. He was usually a calm guy. His body was entirely gold, he was ready and wanted to fight. I went outside, still crying, upon seeing me, he immediately stopped his angry rant and shoved the officers off of him. He ran up to me and gave me something I desperately needed. A hug. I cried into his shoulder. Staining his bright red Hawaiian shirt with tears.

“Bonnie… kid.” He said softly. He stroked my hair, just like momma did. “It'll be alright. Just… let it out…” I could tell he was fighting back tears too. His nose was scrunched up as his eyes closed tightly. He held me close.

Somehow, I had a stroke of luck. My ‘father’ was charged with attempted murder, two counts of domestic violence, child abuse, rape of a minor, and rape. He got life in prison. But, my luck ran out quick. My mother was out in a coma, to save her. She hasn't awoken yet. I was put in the foster system until I was twelve. Bounced homes frequently, I became a delinquent, fights, juvie, you name it. Foster homes didn't want me, I was trouble. The city had no choice but to stick me with my uncle. Ramsey Murdoch had a criminal record, but it was all petty. Embezzlement, forgery stuff like that.

He's a great caregiver. He supports me, gives me a good life I didn't have when I was younger. Hell I think he's even talking to Micah's mom. Maybe rat man will get hitched? I'm glad I still have someone out there to take care of me. Sure, he sucks at it sometimes. But I love my Uncle, he's still that hero a dreamed of when I was little.

Maybe one day we'll be all together again.

Only time will tell.

#epithet erased #ee #art #oc #ramsey murdoch #reseda murdoch #Bonnie Murdoch #ANGST #REALLY ANGSTY ANGST #artists on tumblr #minific #fanfic #oc backstory #its her canon event #i couldnt stop it #i litterally croed when wroting this #fr #not even joking

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wolfjackle-creates · 10 months

Text

Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 8

Time for another WIP Wednesday! Hope you enjoy.

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1.3k

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Bart grinned. “Well, we’ll just have to take those odds! So, now that we’ve got the basics down, we’re going out there to help, right?”

Sam snorted. “Not like we could keep Danny out of it if we tried. But you guys don’t have to. You can just go to bed.”

Danny sighed. “School tomorrow is gonna suck.”

Tim shook his head. “Aren’t you gonna call out?”

“No?” replied Danny. “How could I? Mom and Dad would never let me call out just because of some ghosts and they won’t know I’ll have been out all night.”

“Would they even notice if you call yourself out? Or ask Jazz to do it?”

Danny snorted. “School is about the only thing they notice. Look, I’ll be fine. I’ll fall asleep in English. Probably get another detention. I’ve A plusses in algebra and chemistry, so those teachers don’t care when I fall asleep. I’m a known slacker in gym. History is after lunch, so I’ll be able to stay awake for that. I’ve got this. It’ll be fine.”

“Danny…” And here Tim had thought his schooling was a disaster.

“Don’t, Tim. Now,” Danny forced his voice to be more cheerful as he changed the subject, “if you’re all joining me, we’ve got three thermoses. I get one. The rest of you can fight over the other two.”

Tim waved his hand. “I want one!”

Tucker sat down on the floor. “I’m out. Unlike someone, I need to sleep before class in—” he checked his PDA “—seven hours.”

Sam let out a yawn. “Yeah, I’m with Tuck on this one. We’re taking your bed, Danny. When was the last time you changed your sheets?”

Danny shrugged. “Dunno. I think Jazz got to them last week. Or was that the week before?”

“Right. We know where the spares are. Come on, Tuck.”

“Wait, if you’re staying here," said Danny, "any chance you can fix up Cassie, Bart, and Conner’s phone before you go to bed?”

Tucker shrugged. “Sure. Should be able to do at least two of them. You haven’t moved any of the tools, have you?”

“Left some of them out on the desk, but they’re there.”

“All right. Everyone! Pass me your phones. I’ll get at least two of them working tonight.”

Conner passed his over, but said, “Focus on Cassie’s and Bart’s. They’ve more people who will be worried about them and I’ve no doubt Bruce told Clark where I am and he has Tim’s number.”

“Will do!”

Bart handed his over. “Thanks, dude. You really don’t have to if it’s too much trouble.”

“Nah. After how much Danny and I messed with ecto-contaminating electronics, I could do this in my sleep.”

Sam snorted. “Well, if you don’t get started, you’ll be putting that claim to the test. Come on, tech boy. Let’s get going.”

“Sleep well!” Cassie called out after them.

“Don’t let the ghosts bite,” added Danny.

Sam huffed a laugh in a way that told Tim she’d heard the joke more than a few times before. Tucker didn’t even react and just kept walking.

“So…” started Conner once they were alone, “should we suit up?”

Danny hesitated. “If you do, Sam and Tuck will know your identities.”

Everyone looked to Tim. He chewed his lip. On the one hand, Sam and Tucker had known and kept Danny’s secret for months. But they did tend to get in arguments and make problems worse based on storied Danny had shared. But his friends had bonded rather quickly with the Amity trio and Conner, at least, definitely needed more friends their age.

“Our goals for tonight are evacuation and limiting property damage. Ambulances still can’t get into the downtown area and victims can’t escape. They’ll trust us more if we’re in costume. And at the end of the day, people’s safety is the most important. Danny, can you promise me Sam and Tucker can keep our secrets.”

“I promise, Tim. They’ll keep it as well, no better, than mine.”

Tim really hoped he was making the right choice even as he nodded. “Then let’s suit up. Where can we do that unseen?”

“Oh, that part’s easy!” said Danny. “You can change in the spare bedroom and I’ll just fly you all out invisibly and drop you off downtown.”

“Can you carry all of us?” asked Tim. “Have you ever tested your super strength?”

“Kon and I can fly ourselves,” added Cassie. “What do you need to transfer your invisibility?”

“Indirect contact should be fine. So I can carry Tim and Bart and if you each hold hands with one of them, it should work.”

“I don’t like ‘shoulds,’” said Tim. “Let’s test it.”

“Fair enough.” Danny moved until he was standing between Tim and Bart and wrapped an arm around each of them before lifting them into the air.

“Holy shit,” whispered Bart.

Tim couldn’t help but agree. He’d flown many times with Conner or Cassie or even Clark. But it never felt like this. The pull of gravity was always present and something he could feel. Yet with Danny? There was no gravity. Being in the air felt as normal as being on the ground. And Danny’s arm around his chest was warm and solid.

“What?” asked Danny. “Haven’t you flown with one of your teammates before?”

Tim couldn’t hold back a laugh. This was amazing. “Their flight doesn’t entirely cancel out gravity like yours does. Can we go out for fun before we leave? This is beyond anything I’ve ever experienced.”

“Sure thing, Secrets. Whatever you want.”

“Thanks, Polaris.” The news report still playing on the computer brought him back to the present. “But that’s a discussion for later. Sorry for getting distracted. Kon? Cassie? Grab our hands. Let’s see if this works.”

Turned out that not only could Danny make them all invisible and intangible, but his anti-gravity style flight would apply to everyone as well. Apparently flight wasn’t something that required super strength and Tim was definitely updating Danny’s power profile because this was unbelievable. He wanted to run so many tests.

It took five minutes to strip out of their protective gear and turn off the computer, then another ten to change into costume. Most of their bags had been stored in the guest room already.

During that time, Bart claimed the last thermos and they split into teams of two. Robin and Superboy would help ambulances and emergency vehicles get in and out of downtown safely and Impulse and Wonder Girl would help evacuation downtown. Phantom would stay downtown and try to figure out if the portals could be closed preventing more ghosts from crossing over.

Danny went back to his room to grab earpieces that could be used as communicators and ask Sam to turn the ghost shield back on in five minutes, then they were flying back to the scene of the attack.

It felt so much better to be back in costume and ready to do something. Though he was definitely going to have to ask Danny for the specs to the ghost weapons. Next time he came to visit, they’d be in Robin’s colors.

The chaos in the downtown area had gotten much worse in the time they’d been gone sorting out weaponry and plans. Most businesses sported broken windows and cars were overturned on the street. Half the people appeared to be overshadowed and the other half were cowering and hiding.

Danny set them down carefully and Bart immediately disappeared to find those who were trapped.

“I’ll go check out the portal and let you know what I find.”

“Very good, Phantom. We’ll do what we can on the ground. If you see something that needs our attention, let us know.”

Danny gave him a salute. “Will do, Robin.”

“All right, you two ready?”

“Always,” said Conner.

“We’ve faced worse odds,” added Cassie.

“Then let’s get going.” This was going to be a very long night.

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Hope you enjoyed! The plot is moving forward slowly but surely. We're still only in the first, like, 3 minutes of the DP episode, so yeah. I may have to speed some things up. I'm just bad at that.

This will be the last week I tag people for updates to this story. There's three reasons for that. Tumblr is making it more difficult to tag users and splitting the list over two posts is kinda a pain. Many people I tag don't seem to interact with the post and I don't know if everyone is still interested in following this story. And I'm nervous about being shadow banned since that's happened to at least one writer in this fandom as I'm sure we all know by now.

So! I've set up a subscription post. Follow the link and set up notifications and I'll make a comment every time I update. That way only those who still want notifications will get them and you can change your mind whenever you want.

Tag List Part 1

@gremlin-bot @bonebrokebuddy @britcision @lady-time-lord- @welcometosasakiworld @akikkobara @phoenixdemonqueen @dolfay @skulld3mort-1fan @we-ezer @markus209 @sjrose1216 @onyxlightdragon @dragonsrequiem @jesus-camp-the-sequel @spidey29phangirl @kyrianclawraith @evilminji @introvert-even-on-the-internet @emergentpanda-blog @lexdamo @v-inari @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @longlivethefallen @undead-essence @xye-chan @liandrin @seraphinedemort @kisatamao @schalensitzbucket @caelestisdreamer @runfromthemedic @nutcase8691 @channajen @tonicmii @ambiguouslyominous @vythika96 @addie-lover-of-stories @ironicvixen @violetfox2 @pickleking8 @mysticalcomputerdetective @ark12 @mygood-bitch99 @squirrel-wolf @satisfactionbroughtmeback @sometimesthingsfallapart @automaticsoulharmony @d4ydr34min9 @revnantdpxdclover @midigeria @raginblastocyst @feral-bunny31 @lunaria618 @ghostreblogging @ace-aro-as-shit

#dpxdc #dead tired #tim learns more about danny's powers!#and is realizing he has to make his questions much more specific #because danny will not represent things accurately #sam and tucker go the sane 'we're not super heroes' route and go to bed #tim will never understand

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