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britcision · 2 months

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And part two! So a good chunk of the reason the chapter got so long is that around halfway through this part I realized… Danny and Jason didn’t have a single scene together

And we can’t have that!

And then they just kept being adorable

So this is my promise to y’all that whenever possible, we will have at least one scene of the lads directly interacting every chapter 😁

Part 1:

—————————

The Finished Core part 2

Jason was stable, his core fully formed for a little less than a month, and they’d hung out and done ecto shots until midnight last night. Danny had no homework due, but would be starting a big project by the end of the week. His schedule wouldn’t be this empty for at least another two months.

And if he delayed beyond that. He’d either never do this, or have to explain to Jason what he was doing, because Jason would probably ask.

Jason being unavailable tonight (something big was going on with his library project, which Danny thought was just adorable) was actually why Danny had to do it now.

Because Jason would want to come with him. And, as fraught as his relationship with Bruce Wayne obviously was, Danny was pretty sure it wasn’t “have a good reaction to hearing about Danny’s evil alternate self killing him” bad.

And. Y’know. The end of the world thing.

And that Danny wanted to put him on parole.

That was all gonna be way too complicated for Danny to explain easily, so he had to go talk to Nocturn tonight. While he could do it alone.

Because maybe “here is my formerly evil alternate self” would sound so much better all the problems would just melt away.

Whatever. That was Future Danny’s problem anyway, which was okay because Dan’s timeline divergence was now very firmly in the past.

Dan wasn’t the Ghost King. He should be comparatively harmless.

Danny wasn’t thinking about how comparatively harmless he’d been when he stuffed Dan into a thermos.

Sucking in a bolstering breath, he floated up to the deceptively simple door to Nocturn’s lair and knocked.

Waiting to be let in was a formality; technically Danny could have ripped open a portal right into the heart of Nocturn’s lair and there was nothing the Lord of Dreams could do about it, but. Nocturn had done him a favour. Danny was trying to be cool.

There was a long enough wait that he almost wondered if he should just push in, show that he wasn’t fucking around either, but then the door swung open.

Nocturn was waiting for him just inside, his white jester’s mask arranged into placid servility that Danny didn’t buy for a moment. Tendrils of night curled around him, swaying ever so slightly but tucked in close. He clearly didn’t want Danny too deep in his lair, and Danny decided to respect that, coming in just far enough for the door to close behind them.

Technically, it’d put him in Nocturn’s power, if he wasn’t the Ghost King. The whole Zone was his lair if he wanted it to be.

Nocturn inclined his head gracefully, his voice smooth and impassive as he spoke.

“You desire something, my king?” He asked carefully, and Danny hesitated.

He didn’t like doing the whole… thing. Would have preferred not to need it. But if they were standing on ceremony…

It was barely a thought before the Crown of Fire formed above his head, the silhouette of the crown itself fading in before it caught with spectral green flames, that themselves were overwhelmed by creeping spires of diamantine frost.

The cape spilled down from his shoulders, its folds lit with galaxies and nebulas far grander in scale than Nocturn’s own star-speckled form. There was no weight to it, and no wind, yet it rippled and swayed anyway, plucked by solar currents.

Danny consciously cut the change off there. Any of the armour or other regalia could be taken as a challenge, and while Nocturn was just as unwilling to actually become the King personally, it’d make him cranky. And Danny needed another favour.

“Yes, Dream Lord. It’s… it is about the charge I placed in your care. The one who sleeps in the Evermoving Now.” Ancients, Danny felt like an idiot every time he had to talk like this. He was sure he sounded like a particularly cheesy “historical” fantasy, and had to consciously avoid slipping into an awful British accent.

Maybe he should have brought Jason. Jason could have made it sound cool.

Danny’s best guess at formality was “no contractions”. Jason actually knew courtly manners from the Elizebethans to the Tokugawa shogunate.

At least it wasn’t like Nocturn expected better from him. He simply nodded, his expression unchanging.

“He is still sleeping, my king.” A flicker of annoyance skated across his face, gone before it was even there. “He is… not so resistant to my power as you are, but still exerts his own demands upon what dreams he will tolerate.”

Yeah, Danny had figured. Dan had damn near Ended his universe’s Nocturn, and he’d had to give Nocturn a chunk of his own power as the King to keep him safe enough to work on Dan at all. Keeping people unconscious was not usually in the Dream Lord’s power.

Honestly, Danny had been kinda hoping that all the time just in Soup Jail… the thermos might have made Dan a little more. Well. Not nicer? But. Less fussy about distractions.

He returned the nod a little awkwardly, offering a smile that he hoped wasn’t too sheepish.

“Yeah… yes. I was afraid of that. But… I want to speak with him. Perhaps make him a little more… amenable to your gifts. And maybe take him off your hands entirely, if all goes well.”

That did provoke a reaction, an eyebrow raising as interest lit Nocturn’s red eyes. Dan must be a real pain in the ass.

“It… can be arranged,” he said slowly, scanning Danny up and down for the first time. Looking for what, Danny wouldn’t even guess, but whatever it was he had no idea if Nocturn found it.

Danny nodded again, fighting the urge to fidget.

“Great… yeah. Yes. Good. Obviously not in physical forms, given his confinement, but.” He drew himself up, thinking back to all the shows he’d been watching with Jason over the last two weeks. Not many kings, but all sorts of stuffy nobility.

He tried to call up his best Liz Bennet.

“I would have you link our dreams, so that he need not wake, and we may speak entirely in your realm. Tomorrow night. Ah… I will… let you know how it goes?” He trailed off, and Nocturn let out a huff which might have been amusement or irritation.

Danny wasn’t gonna push for an aura read to check. He didn’t wanna know.

“I presume, my king, that I need not care how it goes until you ask that I remove him from my dreams. And in exchange for this…” he let the sentence hang, not actually asking for anything.

Technically, Danny didn’t have to give him anything. He could make it a Command, with the whole weight of the Infinite Realms behind his order. Nocturn would have no choice but to obey.

But he didn’t want to be a tyrant. And he’d expected to have to give something, and he’d come prepared.

A real, not entirely nice smile pulled at his lips.

“You must be tired of being confined to the Zone, and having to spend so much of your power catering to Dan’s dreams. For your ongoing service and assistance in this matter, I will give you the power to keep one single human asleep indefinitely, and you can give him any dreams you like.”

Now that definitely got the ghost’s attention, his whole posture stiffening, outline sharpening as he leaned in ever so slightly. There was a very real hunger in his gaze.

“Did you have a human in mind?” He asked, his voice a low hiss of want.

Firmly squashing any trace of discomfort, Danny nodded.

“The Joker.”

Nocturn’s eyes widened, and then a slow and far more genuine smile spread across his lips.

If he were being honest with himself, Vlad certainly hadn’t expected to hear from Wayne again so soon. They’d gotten along delightfully well the day after the gala, right up until Daniel’s little “rescue attempt”, which was just adorable.

Of course, Wayne had insisted any reconcilliation with Timothy or Richard would have to be between them as men, which was annoying. But Vlad could be magnanimous.

Thanks to Danielle and Daniel he was at least vaguely aware of what young people wanted, although Daniel was no longer a teenager. He’d never been a rich teenager though; doubtless the Drake-Wayne boy could afford any consoles or games he desired.

He was vaguely aware that Drake-Wayne was interested in technology, fully up to date with the workings of the company he was now CEO to.

Vlad wasn’t. He didn’t much care for what human technology could do without the boost of ectoplasm; Wayne Tech largely worked in communications devices and medical technology, all of which was easily reverse engineered and improved by Vlad’s own companies to run with ectoplasm.

It would mean far too great a loss to give the boy access to an ectoplasm battery… although if Daniel were cosying up to his brother, they’d have access to ectoplasmic technology soon anyway.

A loss to his corporate dominance, then, in exchange for a gain with his godson. It could only help their relationship if Vlad could endear himself to his future sons-in-law, and perhaps be yet more proof of his good intentions.

Of course, for it to be proof, an older battery wouldn’t have done. The technology remained proprietary, and the ecto batteries never broke down or lost charge (until Vlad wanted them to), so they rarely needed replacing, so Wayne Tech would need to be doing corporate espionage of their own to have any access at all (and be able to get past the little ectoplasmic tricks and traps that continued to befuddle poor dear Luthor’s attempts to steal his technology over at Lex Corp; Vlad did so enjoy reading of the corporate disasters that marked unsuccessful attempts).

A newer model of battery would make for a better gift. And an offer of a deal, to provide more for the next generation of Wayne Tech devices for only a meagre percentage. An apology fit for a king, or the regent of one, complete with diplomatic offers for the future.

Dick Grayson was some kind of police officer. Vlad just bought his department a suite of new computers and a new espresso machine. Simple.

He’d have liked to have it all delivered before he saw “Brucie” next, yet the man had been utterly intent on coming to see him as soon as possible, barely a week after their last meeting when he got in touch. That was unusual; Vlad usually had to be much more proactive to gain access to the kind of person worth overshadowing.

Not that he would overshadow Wayne now. Daniel had staked his claim rather firmly on the whole family, and Lady Gotham was not a spirit Vlad intended to cross. Honestly he was a little surprised she tolerated Daniel cuddling up to her pet socialites, yet the boy was king. She must approve of the match.

(Vlad might wish his own opinion mattered in such a situation, but Jason Todd had provided such a delightful opportunity to prove himself to Daniel that nothing else could touch it.)

Still, it was nice to know that Brucie at least already liked him. He’d made such a touching little speech to Jason at the gala, they simply had to be on better terms than he and Daniel, and hopefully he would also be on good terms with Daniel too by now.

He’d seemed very interested when talking to Vlad and the Mansons, and Vlad had talked up all of Daniel’s best traits; now they would have travelled back to Wayne Manor together and would surely be well acquainted. The man certainly looked enough like Jack Fenton for a sentimental soul like Daniel to get attached.

A slight grimace tugged at Vlad’s face as his limo pulled up to the airport. Really, that was the only downside with Brucie Wayne; it was like hanging out with a slightly more reasonably sized Jack. Intellect and all.

That would be trying over the man’s stay, but he had insisted on putting himself up in a hotel rather than staying at Vlad’s, and if he could just keep the two apart… Vlad reassured himself that the Fentons had gone to visit Jasmine over the holidays, and absolutely couldn’t have returned to town without him noticing.

Which, of course, was a thought as sure to summon Jack Fenton as an unwise wish to summon Desiree.

A large hand clapped across Vlad’s entire back just as he stepped out of the car, making him flinch.

“VLADDIE! Lovely to see ya, buddy! You’re not heading outta town again, are ya! You only just got back!” The man bellowed, and Vlad’s eyebrows twitched.

As if they weren’t both standing in front of the Arrivals lounge.

Perhaps Jasmine was making a late return, anything to avoid sharing a flight with her parents… it certainly couldn’t be Daniel, Vlad would have sensed him long before now. The boy couldn’t help travelling with a spectral fanfare these days.

He forced a polite smile onto his face, moving firmly towards the doors and hoping to lose the man inside.

“No, Jack, I’m here to receive a friend. As you are, I presume? I didn’t realize you were already back from your own trip.” He didn’t really bother listening to the answer, glancing around quickly to see if Madeline was also here. It would be nice to see her briefly…

Jack Fenton laughed boisterously, crowding along behind him far too close for comfort.

“Ah, that’s ol’ Vladdie! Sharp as a pin! Yeah, a colleague called and asked us to outfit some big wig visiting for his first trip to Amity Park! Maddie’s got the Spectre Deflector an’ a couple other toys, he’s some big tech guy from some other city, Gotham or something?”

For a second Vlad thought his ghost sense had somehow missed Daniel; the unmistakeable feeling of ice slithered down his spine. It took a moment to actually pinpoint the cause.

Gotham.

No.

He couldn’t be.

Vlad’s life could not be this cursed.

He’d done nothing to deserve this.

He’d fucking forgotten that Daniel was Jack and Madeline’s son, and had probably given Wayne his parents’ contact information.

He’d actually stopped walking as the impending dread washed over him, Jack leaving him behind by a few paces as they reached the terminal lounge that Brucie Wayne would be entering at any second.

He’d. Tried to emotionally prepare himself. To perhaps set up a meeting between the two parties. Where he could be on the other side of town.

But no, they were all here, and there was Madeline as resplendent as ever in her teal bodysuit, her arms filled with beeping and flashing Fenton junk. His heart still gave a flood of warmth at the sight of her, but that was all.

Just his heart. Not his core, not his Obsession. That was still a bit of a relief, every time. She’d made it quite clear that they couldn’t be friends while he was so fixated on her; on removing Jack.

He caught the moment that she spotted him past the exuberant and loving display she and Jack shared, as if they’d been parted for decades instead of minutes. Managed a small but genuine smile, and settled further when she smiled back.

Reserved, certainly, especially in the wake of her obvious passion. But it was a real smile, and meant far more to him than those she’d faked for Jack’s sake at the height of his mania.

Madeline’s friendship was infinitely more precious than any notion of possessing her, and he had been so lucky to have any left to rekindle by the time he’d finally gotten control of himself. They may never be as close as all three of them had once been in college, but for Madeline he could even smile and embrace Jack.

(Which had become immensely easier when he’d been able to rationalise that Jack Fenton was simply incapable of the intellect, malice, or even comprehension to have killed him. All three of them had worked on the portal; it was simply poor luck that had him take the brunt of the accident and the ecto-acne that followed.

Or perhaps good luck; after all, he was now essentially immortal, rich beyond his wildest dreams, and powerful. He’d finally acquired sufficient leverage to have effective control over the Packers, even if he couldn’t own them outright! He even had Madeline’s son for his godson, and one day the boy might even accept him.

They had all eternity to find out.)

His reluctance waning slightly with Madeline’s company, he made his way to join the couple; he may as well stand beside them, if they’d come for the same man.

Madeline even rewarded him with a handshake, and he easily resisted the brief urge to kiss her hand or try to extend the gesture. He truly was growing and improving all the time.

“Madeline. Jack tells me you are also here for Brucie Wayne? Making sure he’s safe for his visit to our fair city?” He asked cheerfully, nodding to the pile in her arms.

It didn’t even hurt when Madeline shot a beaming smile at her beloved husband.

“Oh! Yes, and of course we simply had to get to know him. Danny’s already told us that Brucie knows about his condition, though we’re never to mention Jason’s of course,” she added sharply, giving her husband a stern look which somehow cleared the ridiculous distance to fly right over his head, then smiled back at Vlad, “but since our boys are getting along so well he’s almost family anyway!”

That was an interesting tidbit which Vlad hadn’t previously been privy to; he hadn’t known just how far Daniel trusted Brucie. Not far enough for the details on his own son, which was… interesting.

Not that Vlad would have said anything; perish the thought. One simply did not out another ghost of any description. It was rude. And would have no benefits for him anyway.

Interesting to know that the man was in on the fact that halfas existed, if not how close he was to one of course. Perhaps he could get some extra points by sharing his own secret?

That would wait until he had some idea of how discrete Brucie was capable of being. Evidence suggested that it would be “not at all”, but… if Daniel had shared his…

It seemed Vlad would need to get more out of this little visit than he’d expected.

As if specifically to disrupt his thoughts, the man of the hour appeared at just that moment, all broad smiles even fresh from a commercial airline of all things. Not even a private jet, yet he still looked freshly composed and perfect even amidst the bedraggled public.

It was frankly unfair, but Vlad didn’t have time to sulk before he had to dodge one of Jack’s massive arms flying into the air to wave, apparently recognising the man on sight as well. It shouldn’t be unusual of Bruce Wayne, yet Vlad highly doubted Jack could have recognised the man a week ago.

Celebrities that were alive were a closed book to all four Fentons, as far as he knew.

“BRUCIE!” Jack bellowed, waving enthusiastically with both arms like he wasn’t head and shoulders taller than the entire rest of the building.

Even Brucie was momentarily taken aback by the sheer size of the man, which Vlad wasn’t remotely bitter about anymore. Then he clocked Vlad beside the Fentons and that perfect, vapid smile slid across his face again.

“Vlad! Won’t you introduce me to your friends?” He asked easily, ever charming as he slid over to join them.

Maddie and Jack began sizing him up immediately, not even waiting to say hello before grabbing at his arms to lift and turn them. Vlad sighed heavily and gave a tight smile of his own, Brucie looking quite alarmed to be manhandled by such a tall man as Jack Fenton.

“Brucie, it’s good to see you again. These are my friends, Drs Maddie and Jack Fenton. I believe an associate of yours has asked them to… outfit you for your stay in our town?” He asked smoothly, not even tripping over the word “friends” anymore.

Not even when it meant Jack. It meant Madeline, and they were a package deal. He’d come to accept that, and the place she’d allowed him in their life. That he only had because Jack had never noticed how their relationship had changed.

Shaking away the thoughts, he refocused on Brucie, who’d turned that so charming smile on the Fentons and was now allowing them to fit him with a Spectre Deflector, one of their wrist lasers, and… well, he had to assume the large and oddly rigid pocket-square had to be another of their new inventions.

Very new, since Jack hadn’t showered him in its praises yet, but he was quite happily trying to sell it to the head of Wayne Enterprises entirely unaware that he’d likely have to get the Drake-Wayne boy to get any actual decisions made.

Brucie did at least look fascinated, and managed to ask just enough questions to keep Jack going. Honestly, if Vlad wasn’t careful Brucie would keep them trapped there all day… although that might not be all bad.

If he could leave the man in the variably capable hands of the elder Fentons, he could at least get some actual work done. Get the details of the battery proposal for Timothy finalized…

Brightening up a little, Vlad clapped his hands.

“Why, I have a great idea! Jack, Maddie, I’m sure Brucie would love to take a quick tour of the portal, to really see what makes our little town special.”

After all, Brucie would certainly want to take the time to get to know Daniel’s other family, and if Vlad could just ensure that all the time he spent with Jack was away from Vlad… well, he’d also have a brief reprieve from them both, guaranteed.

All three of his companions were visibly surprised by the suggestion, with just the faintest flicker of suspicion in dear Madeline’s eyes… for her alone, he gave his best conciliatory smile.

“And I can think of no one better to prepare Brucie for the delights of our little town. They are our pre-eminent ectologists,” he told Brucie, even bestowing Jack with a mostly sincere smile.

As always, he swelled with pride at the compliment, and Madeline’s face softened. She gave a very tiny nod, her approval still chasing the warmth of a summer breeze in his heart. Worth the sacrifice.

That left Bruce, surprised and delighted as ever, smiling with as much thought behind his eyes as a hamster.

“What’s this about a portal? You’ve told me all sorts of tales of ghosts in Amity Park, is that what this is about?”

A bit of a surprise to Vlad that Daniel hadn’t already mentioned it, but the boy had been…. Distracted by Jason Todd. Perhaps it wasn’t so surprising.

Vlad kept his smile bright, clapping his hands.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise. Jack gives such wonderful tours. And then perhaps once you’ve finished there and had a look around town, I could take Brucie off your hands for dinner and let you get back to work?” He asked somewhat hopefully.

Small, controlled doses of both mountainous men. That would be fine. It would have to be.

Madeline did truly hesitate, and he knew the passion for her work would be nudging at her. She was a dedicated scientist, as much as she loved their “field work”; too long away from the lab made her itchy.

Jack, of course, didn’t notice, clapping Vlad firmly on the back.

“Nonsense, Vladdie! You just come along down to Fentonworks when you’re done bustling about and we’ll cook you up a Fenton Family Feast along with our guest!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose,” Wayne began as Vlad struggled to think of an argument.

The Fentons having anything even edible in the house was no guarantee, let alone the time to prepare a real meal. He was quite sure they’d been subsisting on ectoplasm alone since before they even recreated the portal.

Unfortunately, knowing Jack, there was only one way out of it.

“My staff have already begun preparing dinner, and I would hate to put all their work to waste,” he said silkily, making a mental note to message his assistant and have her set up something suitable. He’d been planning on a restaurant, but personal plans were harder to change. “And of course if you have the time we would love to have you both over as well.”

He didn’t even have to grit his teeth to finish the sentence, didn’t even have to focus solely on Madeline. It barely even twinged. That old, hateful Obsession would have no power over him.

Proof of his own progress put a more genuine note in his smile too, and Jack beamed back as innocently as ever.

“Aw Vladdie, that’d be great! So, the portal, a tour of Amity Park, and then dinner at Vladdie’s! We can tell you some of those good ol’ college stories from back in the day!” He told Bruce enthusiastically, slapping him on the back hard enough that the man stumbled.

Part of Vlad was beginning to wonder if he should have sent the poor man a warning packet on the Fentons. But then, his boy was courting Daniel. Surely that would have been Daniel’s job, if he’d wanted the man warned.

Brucie looked between them all with that same innocent smile, clearly not following… but he must be used to that.

“Oh, I’d like a chance to get to know the town myself for a little bit… y’know, stretch my legs a bit and get regrounded after the flight. Is there anywhere I could just take a little walk, maybe a look around? This all sounds like real important stuff and if I go in all fuzzy-headed I just know I won’t make heads or tails of it,” he laughed, waving a hand self-deprecatingly.

Vlad hesitated. The Amity Park (and ancients he still hated the name but it was better than Amity Park Park) would be the obvious choice, or perhaps the shopping district would be ideal. Yet since the Fentons were already here…

This time it was his own back that Jack’s meaty paw slammed down on. The only reason Vlad didn’t stumble the same way Wayne had was his resilience as a halfa. And even then it was a close thing.

“Sure, sure! Tell ya what, Vladdie, you run along and get to all your important mayor duties,” Jack tipped Bruce and Madeline a wink, clearly indicating that they were all going to have a lot more fun, “and we’ll take ol’ Brucie down to the park! And then when you’re feeling better we’ll get you right to Fentonworks for the portal tour and some of Maddie’s famous fudge! It’s a secret family recipe, there’s nothing better for getting your noodle cookin’!”

Vlad did not sag in relief. He had far too much pride for that. Instead he looked to Wayne for agreement, only raising one perfectly poised eyebrow.

“I hope you won’t think me a poor host if I pass you off so soon…” he trailed off, not quite hinting his own preference. Certainly not obviously enough that Brucie Wayne would notice.

And indeed the man just beamed at him, giving Jack a firm pat on the back too.

“Not at all, that sounds just the thing! Just a couple minutes out in some fresh air away from that tube and I’ll be right as rain! We’ll see you again at dinner, Vladdie?” He added with that far too charming smile, immediately picking up on the nickname.

That. Was pretty much the biggest thing Vlad had been hoping to avoid. His smile strained a little around the edges.

“That sounds perfect, Brucie.”

At least he’d have a little time alone to recompose himself.

Danny… dithered. That was the only way Jason could think to describe it. He’d been in an odd mood since he’d called that afternoon, and while Jason was getting used to Danny completely forgetting to mention important things, this looked like the opposite.

And given what he’d just blurt out apropos of nothing, whatever had him opening his mouth and abruptly reconsidering couldn’t be good.

He’d texted and said he needed to talk to Jason about something important (a message that totally never caused any additional anxieties), and then called the minute his last class ended (which was so much more reassuring), but when Jason dropped by the university to pick him up… Danny insisted they go grocery shopping.

So now here they were, an hour later, and Danny was reading the full nutritional information on every box of cereal.

Finally running out of patience, Jason plucked the Frosted Berry Crunch Whatever from his hands and tossed it into the cart. Danny was already protesting as he turned, but Jason and the cart had a head start up the aisle.

“C’mon, your highness, we’re putting at least two vegetables in here and then we’re going home.”

Because see, Jason knew what decision paralysis was like. He knew what brain fog was like. He also knew what procrastinating was like, and there was only so much he was willing to put up with it.

Especially when he was beginning to suspect that the tingling at the base of his skull had less to do with Danny being accidentally ominous, and more to do with Danny possibly actually being in danger.

What the hell in Gotham could lay a finger on the half-dead king of ghosts? Malnutrition, sure, given the state of their cart, but Jason didn’t think that was it. He’d have been summoned by the contents of the dorm fridge alone if it were that simple, weeks ago.

If Bruce had still been in town, he’d have suspected that asshole was up to something, but he’d flitted merrily away to Amity Park. Which… was still concerning, but Jason figured that his magic knight sense or whatever would at least give him some sense of how immediate the danger was.

This didn’t feel distant, like something all the way in Bumfuck, Idaho. This felt close, immediate, and the way Danny was acting? Only made him more sure.

Which meant the threat to Danny was probably Danny himself, surprising precisely no one and least of all one regent of Time.

So what the hell was Jason supposed to do about it? Other than not put up with the prevaricating.

Obviously Danny wasn’t going to just take it lying down, though. He was already half a Wayne that way.

“Hey! If I’m the king, don’t I get to decide what we do!” He argued half heartedly, still following Jason down the aisle.

Jason stuck his tongue out at him over his shoulder.

“Be grateful I’m letting you pick the vegetables.”

Danny opened his mouth on what was sure to be an utterly scathing retort (not), and was immediately side tracked by something at the end of the aisle. Which he immediately snatched up three boxes of.

“Oh no way I didn’t think these were real! I’m picking these!”

Jason fielded one on its way past, and glared at the cheap cardboard box.

“Lucky Charms pancake mix? Fucking seriously?” He asked incredulously, turning the box to look for nutritional information. Because he liked horror fiction.

(And a little bit to mock Danny’s earlier bullshit.)

Danny snatched the box out of his hand and added another two to the cart on good measure.

“Hey, fuck you, I was craving the hell out of exactly these way back when you went to put Tuck’s name on the gala list! This is a gift from the universe to make up for my shitty life and I will not be denied!” He declared dramatically, even throwing up an arm in full Shakespearian declamation.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Jason scooped up three of the boxes, now turning the sceptical glare on Danny.

“Dude, if you want pancakes that bad, I’ll make them myself. This is just an overpriced marketing gimmick!” He shook one of the boxes for good measure.

Danny snatched that one back right away too and stuck his tongue out at him.

“Listen, I’ll take you up on that too, but I’m getting these! If I only wanted marshmallow pancakes I could make those myself, I need the soulless crunch of Lucky Charms!”

And alright, Jason’s aura reading was definitely still off (at least around Bruce), but he was pretty sure he was getting better at projecting specific words and feelings. Because he managed to project some combination of disbelief and garlic powder hard enough that Danny punched him on the arm.

“That was literally one time!”

“And I don’t want garlic pancakes,” Jason shot back, mildly surprised at how much the punch actually hurt.

Danny stuck his tongue out at him and went for the display of boxes again. Rolling his eyes, Jason scooped the other man over his shoulder instead, hauling him and the cart away.

“Fine, fine! Get your boxes of garbage, you fuckin’ raccoon, but you don’t need the whole stand and we’re leaving,” he declared firmly, one hand still firmly pinning a wriggly fuck and trying not to think about how optional Danny’s bones were.

Danny grumbled something unintelligible but went limp (not no-bones limp though) and let Jason carry him to the cashier. Who smiled as she checked them out, but didn’t comment on Jason unloading the cart or bagging their supplies one-handed.

Danny gave a feeble wriggle of protest, both when they reached the register and when they left, but subsided quickly back into a sulk each time.

Which… convinced Jason that there was something wrong more than calmed him. Danny wasn’t one to miss an opportunity to tussle. Lie low until someone let down their guard, sure. Give up? No.

When Danny even let himself be tossed onto the back of the bike without complaint, Jason made up his mind.

They weren’t going back to the dorms. They were going back to one of his safe houses again. If Danny noticed before Jason pulled into a garage distinctly not near the university, he didn’t comment.

Hell, all he actually said when unloading the groceries was a terribly blasé “so is this a kidnapping then?” To which Jason obviously responded “yes now shut up”.

Luckily there wasn’t much perishable in their bags, and it fit in the slightly beat up fridge that had definitely been washed since the last time he stored human body parts in it (probably).

Danny took his kidnapping with good grace, flopping onto the only slightly beaten up couch to watch Jason fuss over the fridge. In between playing with his fingers.

Because he was definitely still procrastinating.

Leaving everything that wasn’t likely to go off bagged, Jason dropped onto the couch beside him and stuck a finger in his ear.

“Now tell me what the hell you want to talk about.”

Danny hesitated for a moment, visibly torn, and Jason pointedly licked his finger and held it up as a visual threat.

“No bullshit Danny. I was a fucking Robin, I know when some dipshit engineering student is trying to lie to me.”

Danny squirmed a moment longer, but caved when Jason reached menacingly for his ear again.

“Okay, okay! It’s… it’s not actually a big deal, alright? I’m just blowing it up in my head into something it really isn’t, and yeah, being a dipshit.” He gave Jason a self deprecating grin, and Jason gave him the respect of three seconds of consideration.

Then resumed his attack on Danny’s ears.

“That’s not an answer, asshole!”

This time Danny made an actual attempt to fend him off, and Jason was a little surprised by how strong he was. Sure, Danny’d easily hauled him around plenty, but that was when he’d been cooperating.

That was very different from Danny just grabbing his arm and Jason… completely failing to even budge him. He couldn’t even twist free, Danny’s grip was immovable as a rock.

Being hot also wasn’t going to make Jason any less worried, though, so he nobly ignored the way that made his insides squirm. Sobered when he realized that Danny’s smile had faded.

He was worrying his lower lip instead, and let Jason go when he pulled away more gently.

“This is not reassuring,” Jason prodded, settling in to sit beside him.

Danny gave him another attempt at a smile, still far too worried to be convincing.

“Yeah, that’s kinda the problem. I’ve been turning it over in my head all day, and like I said, it’s really not a big deal… but there’s no way to say it that doesn’t make it sound like a big deal.”

Jason raised an eyebrow at that, but did not react further. Because he was a mature adult, who could be calm about things, even when Danny was being an ominous piece of shit.

“Maybe there’s a reason for that?” He offered sceptically, and this time Danny swatted at him with all the force of a baby kitten. Stark contrast from the immovable grip, but Jason wasn’t going to guess why.

“Oh, shut up. Look, it’s just…” he subsided into silence again.

Jason considered him, this time not just with the hyper-observant eye of a Robin, but with his aura too. He was more used to reading Danny, and Danny actually communicated his emotions.

Kinda.

When he didn’t have to use words.

Which Jason wasn’t criticizing for the obvious (massively hypocritical) reasons.

It was confused at first, tangled and muddied on the surface. Jason took a breath too, settling into the silence, and stopped pushing. Let the right feelings come to him.

Regret. Danny regretted saying anything? Regretted letting Jason know anything at all? Little shit.

Guilt. No guess there, really, but Jason knew all about randomized guilt attacks.

Reluctance. And he didn’t need any magical fucking powers to guess that one, thanks. And underneath it all…

Yearning. Fear. That, at least, was more reassuring; Danny did actually want to tell him. And the fear didn’t even catch and snarl at Jason’s core, so he… didn’t think it was a fear of danger.

No points for guessing that either. He was scared of how Jason might react to whatever the fuck he was all knotted up about. Maybe of how he was already reacting; with no fucking clues, Jason couldn’t begin to guess just how concerned he should actually be.

Or what Danny could be afraid that he’d do.

Well, statistically speaking, Danny probably wasn’t scared that Jason would just. Be fucking chill. About whatever this crap was. Because that didn’t usually freak people out, not because Jason wasn’t usually chill about pretty much everything (the Pit’s lack of chill was not his fault and totally did not count).

Taking another breath, a little surprised that it was only the second since, Jason calmed down. Forcibly. Because winding Danny up more wasn’t going to help. He tried to project calm-understanding-acceptance, although he was pretty sure just fucking do it was sneaking in too.

Danny was quiet for another long moment, not even looking in Jason’s direction let alone meeting his eyes. Which was why Jason knew exactly what he was going to say before he even opened his mouth.

“I’ll… look, I’ll tell you in the morning, alright? Promise.”

Jason rolled his eyes. Like he wasn’t an expert in exactly this kind of shifty bullshit.

“Right, so whatever dumbass shit you’re doing goes down tonight. Good to know,” he snarked back, and Danny tossed both hands into the air.

“The dumbass part is not going down tonight, I don’t even know if I’m going to be doing the dumbass part yet!” He protested. Futilely.

Jason raised an eyebrow at him, waiting a few seconds after Danny had quieted. Just to prove a point.

At least he’d admitted part of it was going to be a dumbass decision. That was a start.

“So what is going down tonight then?” Jason prodded, once Danny was sufficiently squirming.

Danny puffed up his cheeks, clearly considering another smart ass retort, and surprised Jason a little by blowing it all out with a sigh of his own.

“Tonight, I see if it’s even worth trying the dumbass part. I’m not going to be in any physical danger,” he added quickly, raising both hands and rolling his eyes like he didn’t run around the shady parts of Gotham for fun and no profit, “honestly, the worst that’s gonna happen is I have to deal with some home truths. Nothing can hurt me, I’m fine.”

Jason noted the qualifier. Nodded down the hall towards what passed for a bedroom.

“Then you won’t mind spending the night to be sure.”

Not like it’d put him out; he’d not had any plans for the night, beyond more practice on going intangible at will… and more importantly, also becoming tangible at will.

Danny grimaced at their surroundings.

“Dude, this place is a wreck. I don’t even want you spending the night here,” he joked feebly. And deflated a bit when Jason just stared at him. Sighed heavily.

“Look, it’s not gonna make any difference where I sleep, or where you sleep, cuz nothing’s going to happen! That you can do anything about,” he added almost under his breath, and Jason fought back a wave of something hot and green that felt like jealousy-anger-denial-concern-offence all at once.

Because that was different from Danny wanting to run off on his own where Jason couldn’t protect him. That was Danny thinking that Jason wasn’t capable of protecting him. And that hurt.

“So what happens if it all goes wrong?” He asked quickly when Danny flinched, clearly reading all that and more from his aura. Well, tough titties for him, Jason’s pecs were rock hard and they weren’t gonna talk about it.

For a moment, Danny was definitely about to argue. Jason could all but taste the words lining up to be said. Then he sighed and flopped in against Jason, aura a gentle apology that made absolutely nothing better.

“That’s what I’m saying, man. There is literally nothing that can go wrong. I’m gonna go to sleep, I’m gonna have a dream, Nocturn’s gonna hook me up with a favour and then we both wake up in the morning. Nocturn can’t even make me fall asleep or stay asleep, and he doesn’t want the damn crown any more than I do.”

A wry smile tugged at Danny’s lips, and he reached up without looking to poke a finger into Jason’s mouth.

“And even if he did, I can fucking take him. I kicked his ass when I was fourteen and a nobody. There’s literally no risk here… besides hearing something I don’t wanna hear. But hey, what’s life without a little more emotional damage?”

Jason considered this, reasonably and maturely, like an adult, and bit Danny’s finger. With it out of his mouth, he gave the scrawny king another gentle nudge.

He definitely didn’t believe Danny was telling him everything. But he could read enough honesty through everywhere they were touching to know that Danny did also believe everything he was telling him.

“And you’ll tell me everything in the morning?” He prodded warily.

Didn’t actually smile at the wave of relief which coursed through the whole apartment as Danny finally relaxed.

“For sure. And then I’ll decide if I do the dipshit part.”

“We’ll decide,”Jason corrected firmly.

Danny snorted.

“Hey, I’m your king. If I wanna be a dipshit I can be a dipshit.”

“You may be King Dipshit all you want, but you’re not doing it alone,” Jason shot back, reluctantly pulling out a brand new trump card Frostbite had let slip last time. Definitely not smirking as he said it. “So you’ll be bringing a brand new baby ghost into whatever brand of dipshit you’re doing.”

Tensed to argue with whatever he said (although still more playfully than he’d been before), Danny inflated for a moment, then deflated with a hefty sigh and slumped.

“Oh that’s so not fucking fair.”

“I’ll tell Lady Gotham on you,” Jason added for good measure, with a vicious triumph.

“She’ll tell you not to go with me!” Danny protested, still utterly futilely.

Lady Gotham looked after her own. Not one part of that included even vaguely discouraging them from throwing themselves face first into danger.

She’d push him in, if she thought it needed doing.

“No she won’t.”

Danny groaned heavily and lifted himself up solely so that he could flop harder and heavier onto Jason. With, yeah, all the weight of a wet baby kitten. Jason didn’t even give him the satisfaction of a huff of air, which did make him smile even if it was reluctantly.

“Alright, fuck you. Can we stay at one of your good places instead, if we’re still doing totally unnecessary slumber parties? I wasn’t kidding, this is a fucking dump. And I live in a dorm. You coulda mentioned this place when we first started sprucing up your haunt, cuz it desperately needs it.”

And listen.

Robin training.

Lived with Bruce.

Even slightly self aware.

Jason knew exactly what deflection sounded like, even when done far more expertly. It was a choice to let Danny get away with it.

But knight pact or no, Danny was his friend, not his boss. And that also meant Jason wasn’t his dad, or anyone who could actually force him to do anything.

If it actually got Danny staying overnight, he’d do it. Soothe the part of him that fretted even with Danny’s assurances, make it easier to tell him in the morning, give him a chance to try and feed Danny decent pancakes over soulless commercial profiteering? All wins.

So he shrugged.

“Hey, this one’s closest to the campus. You got any morning classes?” He’d been intending to let Danny go back to his dorm (after he talked), so he hadn’t cared that it was one of his less cared for haunts.

For an actual sleepover though? Well, they’d already had one at one of his better places, nearly had another at his actual home. They could go wherever Danny wanted.

Danny made a face like he’d said something weird (or he’d forgotten he had classes), then pulled out his phone to check his schedule.

“Nah, I got a tutorial at eleven thirty but I can probably skip it,” he said a moment later, shooting Jason a wary look. Like he knew there was a trap in Jason agreeing with him, but wasn’t sure how to counter it.

Jason raised an eyebrow at him.

“What class?”

Danny rolled his eyes right back, glanced at his phone again, and stuffed it in his pocket.

“Just Mechanical Engineering. We’ll be starting a major project next week, but I know what I’m doing already and the prof cleared it. You can just drop me off at the dorm if you’re that worried,” he added, slightly smug with this new suggestion.

Jason considered it for a moment, mostly for the theatrics. Then he shrugged. He’d never willingly skipped a class, but it had still happened more than once. But he could still call Danny’s bluff.

“Sure, I’ll bring a pillow and camp out on the floor.” He’d never been back to Danny’s room, largely because other than the bed, there was barely enough floor for Danny to lie down on, let alone someone built like Jason.

Danny’s eyes narrowed, and Jason grinned. Try and bluff a bat; they were the kings of commit to the bit. Jason could and would squish himself to sleep damn near anywhere.

Clearly unable to deny that, Danny finally rolled his eyes and flopped back against the couch cushions instead.

“Fuck you and the horse you rode in on. All the groceries are in the fridge,” he added when Jason stuck his tongue out at him.

True, but not an issue. Untangling them enough to get up, Jason made for the kitchen.

“And they’ll go back in the fridge at my place.” He hesitated barely a second, but he’d already made up his mind, hadn’t he? As soon as the subject came up. “The place at the library nice enough for you?”

It was his home. Sort of. His real home, or the one he wanted to be, except that it still didn’t feel like it yet. Because he wanted to keep it nice, clean perfect and unspoiled, so he never really used it.

Having Danny over to watch truly awful sitcoms in the New Year had kinda highlighted that while all his nicest stuff was there, it wasn’t going to be a home until he’d lived in it. And having Danny there had helped start that too.

And sure, it’d be funny to use all the good stuff on Danny; give the world’s most reluctant king the royal treatment.

Little fuck was already pulling faces again, squirming on the couch.

“Man, that place is way too nice… I was scared to touch the floors.”

Which was kinda exactly what Jason had thought too. But he had to get over that part eventually; he could clean pretty much anything up. But living was messy, and apparently only more so for the half dead.

So he flipped Danny off.

“You can float. Just don’t cover anything in garlic powder this time,” he added with a snicker.

Danny flipped him off back, grinning reluctantly.

“And again, fuck you that was one time!” He protested with extra drama.

“Unless you make it a habit,” Jason shot back, restuffing groceries into bags. Danny hesitated a moment longer, then visibly caved.

Felt like agreeing to wait for morning had been the right move. They could both make concessions.

“Alright, but swing by the campus first. I wanna grab a change of clothes for tomorrow, I’m not doing another walk of shame,” he teased with a sly smirk, and Jason’s heart skipped.

For no reason.

Totally unnecessary.

It wasn’t like the memory of Danny running around in his clothes for a day was going to spark anything in him. Wait, actually…

“Yeah, you can grab my shirt too, I need it back,” Jason said with a snicker.

Danny’d gotten most of his stuff back to him within a week. Except the Soup Powered Fuck Machine shirt, which he’d worn to more than one of their adventures through the city.

Jason was well aware he wasn’t getting that shirt back. He even agreed it was much funnier on Danny.

(And, well, ridiculously oversized, which meant that once jackets and sweaters came off Danny still tended to tie it into a crop top like a country girl in her boyfriend’s shirt. It was cute.

Jason was maybe considering giving in and letting Steph get him in a crop top.)

Sure enough, Danny stuck his tongue out at him, reluctantly hauling himself from the couch.

“No idea what you’re talking about, I gave you all of your clothes back weeks ago.” The odds that Danny would bring that shirt along, just to wear tomorrow? High.

Chuckling softly, Jason grabbed the bags.

“Oh, then I must be mistaken. Clearly all of your clothes are actually the right size, right?” He asked sarcastically.

Danny nodded archly anyway, as regal as an offended cat as he flounced to the door.

“The right size is whatever size I want them to be,” he declared airily, and Jason… couldn’t argue with that. And then just as Jason had locked the door behind them and was reshouldering the bags, Danny turned back suddenly, all airs and graces apparently forgotten.

“Oh, and I need a thigh selfie from you. There’s some nerds in my class totally obsessed with Red Hood, but obviously yours are better.”

Jason didn’t quite drop anything breakable. But that was only because they hadn’t bought anything breakable.

Boxes of Lucky Charms pancakes spilled across the floor.

———————

And there we have it! 😁 our first timeskip, a couple plot beats all set up, and maaaaybe a little hope that by the end of next chapter we’ll have one less secret!

And Bruce is improving! Ish. Look how good he did though, said sorry and everything! And now he’s being subjected to Vlad and the Fentons, which can only possibly go well!

#dfdali #danny fenton dead and loving it #dp x dc #dead on main ship #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #chapter 19 part 2 #the finished core

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jj-5656 · 2 years

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Sneaking Suspicions With; Tangerine (Bullet Train)

A/n: Are we proud? Two uploads in two days. This is how I procrastinate doing any homework. Could not get this idea out of my head so here we are. This is my first for Tangerine, but I just recently rewatched Bullet Train and couldn’t resist. Had to add Lemon too because it’s simply not complete without him. Also, the bit about Thomas is all true, I was obsessed with that show when I was young. Enjoy!

Summary: The one where your boyfriend attempts to build a kitchen table, and nearly slaughters your neighbor...

T/W: A LOT of cursing, some suggestive humor, mentions of violence...duh

“Bloody fuckin’ hell.” You wince as tools clatter in the kitchen. Discarding your current task of rummaging through boxes with Tangerine’s scribbled writing marked ‘bathroom’.

You’ve finally moved in to the new place after months of preparation. Having been together for 8 months, it was about time you moved in together. Tan practically lived at your old place anyway, though taking this step was intimidating for both of you. His brother had egged you on for months, desperately wanting their shared apartment as his own.

Hence why Tangerine is sat on the floor, muttering curses as he attempts to assemble your dining table.

“Tan, why won’t you let me help you?”

“I told you, I’ve got it, love. Fucking bastards,” his shoulders tense with anger as he speaks. “Can’t even make a buildable fuckin’ table. I’ll show them ‘quick and easy’ right up their fuckin’-”

“Did you even look at the directions, baby?” He furrows his brows, turning to you like you’ve grown another head.

“Directions are for morons.”

“Or for people with zero table assembling experience.” You mutter, fighting a grin under his tense stare. He wipes a bead of sweat from his brow, only sporting a wife pleaser and trousers in the summer heat. You internally cringe at the reminder your stubborn boyfriend intends to install the air conditioner on his own as well.

“Maybe we could ask Brian across the hall, he said he does construction for his dad part time.”

“You chopping it up with that lad already? Right git, he is.”

“He’s nice, Tan.”

“He’s a flirt, and a shit one at that.” It forces a laugh from you, Tangerine frustrated that the sound still manages to ease the tension from his muscles.

“I’ll ring Lemon, then.”

“I swear to Christ, if you call my muppet of a brother-”

And that’s how Lemon ends up knocking at your door, takeout in hand and a bright smile on his face at the sight of you.

“Hello, lovely. Call for reinforcements already?”

There’s a distant “fuck off” from the kitchen, but you nod nonetheless, thanking him for the food and much needed company. Lemon’s rooted for your relationship even before his brother. Insisting he get your number that fateful night in that shitty club all those months ago.

***************

You’d been sharing drinks with a group of friends when a man bumped into you, nearly knocking you over with the size of him. He’d caught you by the shoulders before you could fall, sending the drunken, clumsy patron an icy glare before surveying you for any injury. He’d clasped both his hands around one of yours, profusely muttering overly-posh, accented apologies. You were ready to cuss out whoever had been so careless before you laid eyes on him, overwhelmed with the British charm and piercing eyes.

“Can I buy you and your friends a drink? I’ll be out of your hair after, promise.” His sincerity makes you want to request he sticks around the rest of the evening, though you shake your head. Polite commonalities ingrained in your nature.

“Not necessary, I appreciate it.” You assure with a kind smile, ignoring your friends gawking at the pin-stripe clad gentleman. He nods, not wanting to make you any more uncomfortable as he gives your elbow a gentle squeeze in one last apology. Heading back the way he came, sitting beside another well-dressed man at the bar. What looks like a round of chastising from the raven-haired man, and the handsome stranger is waving him off, glancing over at you and taking a generous sip of his drink.

“You did not seriously just turn Poseiden-incarnate down.” Your girlfriend finally manages to close her slacked jaw, frustrated with your shyness.

“He was just being polite, Brooke. I didn’t want to have him buy for the whole table in obliga-” A waitress approaches before you can finish, smiling brightly at the lot of you as she sets down a round of espresso martinis.

“The gentlemen across the bar insisted. On him, of course.” The older woman shoots you a wink, a chorus of cheers from your friends in salute to the man across the way. He sends a kind smile, tilting his own glass and looking like he hates the sudden attention. He meets your eyes for only a moment, starting up conversation with the man beside him in a silent obedience to his promise of leaving you be.

It’s hours before you see him again, headed outside for some fresh air after spending too much time on the dance floor. You’re sober enough to hold your own, comforted in the array of bouncers nearby if needed. You’re sat on a bench just in front of the club, craving some relief from your heels. There’s a flick of a lighter beside you, a curse when it doesn’t ignite any flame. You’re searching through your clutch instantly, offering up your own light without a second thought.

“Didn’t take you for a smoker.” You perk at the accent, trailing the extended arm to meet the man’s gaze for the third time that evening.

“Don’t. Not cigarettes, anyway.” He smiles through the now ignited stick, quirking his head in quiet contemplation. His eyes study you, and surprisingly, it’s almost endearing. There’s no suggestive indications to his observations, like most men you’d encounter. It’s contemplative, as if he’s trying to figure out.

“You always stare at strangers?” Your wit pleasantly surprises him, and his grin grows despite himself.

“Apologies, love. Just taking it all in. Mind if I sit?” You nod, thanking the cold for the constant flush of your cheeks that’ll hopefully conceal the blood that rushes to them at his words. “Never got your name.”

“Y/n, nice to meet you.” You take his extended hand for a shake, wincing at the formality of your words.

“Tangerine, pleasure’s all mine.” He awaits the usual ‘like the fruit’ with sudden irritation, but it never comes, so he relaxes.

“That a nickname?”

“Of sorts.” You don’t pry, not interested in scaring him off just yet. If he wanted to tell, you, he would. In his mind, Tangerine thanks you profusely. Pleased to have met someone uninterested in forcing information out of him.

“Whose your friend?” You mean the other good-looking guy beside him the entire night, who must still be inside.

“Brother,” he corrects, not unkind. “Hoping he won’t be trollied on the way home.” Your eyes narrow, unaccustomed to the slang. Tangerine exhales a stream of smoke away from you, wetting his lips with a twinge of amusement.

“Drunk, love. Or wasted, as you’d put it.” A laugh escapes you, thoroughly entertained with his dramatic mock of an American accent.

“That is not how we sound.” You nudge his shoulder with your own, defensive and patriotic for likely the first time in your life. “You guys are still salty we won.” He bellows a laugh this time, and the warm sound erupts butterflies in the stomach.

“Blokes chucked boxes of tea in the ocean in retaliation. The fuck kind of war crime is that?”

“One that proper fucked your economy.” You attempt your own dramatic accent, curious as to why he tries so hard to fight smiling. You assume he’s usually much more stoic without the aid of alcohol and new company.

“Bloody hell, that was awful.” He teases with no real ill-will, stubbing out his cigarette when his brother stumbles out of the building. You hear him mutter something about ‘shit timing’ as the taller man approaches, kind smile adorning his handsome features.

“You’ve found your Edwards!” He clasps his hands together, absolutely delighted before he sits himself in between the two of you. Tangerine looks absolutely pissed, astonished when you beam brightly at his intoxicated brother.

“Edwards?” You question despite Tangerine’s shaking head of warning.

“Edwards.” He assures, adjusting his suit jacket as he gets comfortable. “Wise, kind...We’ve only just met, I know. But, you see, I’m great at reading people.”

“Christ, here we fucking go again.”

“Everything I learned about people, I learned from Thomas the-”

“Tank engine!” You finish for him, the pair shocked at your enthusiasm. “That was my favorite show when I was little!”

“You don’t say?” The man beams, looking over at his brother with an undoubted stamp of approval.

“Swear it. Had the stuffy for years, an entire train table set too.”

“The one with the wooden tracks you could build yourself?”

“And the magnetic crane to lift up the figurines!” The two of you are absolutely enamored, enthralled in the conversation whilst Tangerine broods opposite you. Making a mental note to shoot his beloved brother in the foot the second he gets him alone.

“Bloody hell, I loved that set. What a coincidence!” He turns to his brother, shaking with anger.

“Fuckin’ unbelievable.” Is all he manages, messing with the rings on his fingers to calm himself from the outright cockblock. Fuckin’ muppet.

“Names’ Lemon. Pleasure to meet you doll, truly. A real Edward, you are.”

“You really think so?” The alcohol ends any fight to conceal your pleased expression, glancing over at Tangerine who forces a smile at your grant of attention.

“Know so. Brother over here’s a Gordon, don’t you think?”

“I could see that.” This time you’re the one to study said man, lip quirking when he shifts under your gaze.

“Alright, we should get you home.” Tan rises with a roll of his shoulders, ready to head back with his head hanging low in a failed feat. Lemon frowns, pushing away the strong arm that’s pulling at him so he can dig through the inner pocket of his expensive jacket. Pulling out a folded and well-worn sheet of paper.

“Here comes the fucking sticker book. Of course.”

“You know I bring it everywhere. Here, love.” Lemon peels the Edward sticker from the sheet. Sticking it onto your finger with a soft ‘boop’. You gasp, delighted.

“The lady’s real chuffed, Lemon. Let her get back to her friends for Christ’s sake.” He pulls the man to a standing position, waving down an approaching taxi with an ear-piercing whistle. “You got a friend getting you home safe, sweetheart?” You nod, pressing the new sticker to the back of your phone and pressing your case back on it. Aiming to keep it safe indefinitely. Tan suppresses a smile, finding it absolutely adorable. He buttons his jacket, straightening in self-discipline to push away the love-sick thoughts.

“Have a good night, you two. It was nice meeting you.” There’s a hint of sadness in your tone, the farewell and the unlikeliness of running into them again tugging at your heart strings. Weird, considering you just met the two men and you already want to get to know them more. Especially the handsome fuck with the unrelenting charm.

“Like-wise, love.” Tangerine ushers his brother into the backseat of the car, muttering something to the driver before turning on his heel to face you again. Brows taught in consideration. He battles with himself, weighing if he’s selfish enough to try and get to know someone as seemingly kind-hearted as you. You’d deserve better. He surveys you a final time, every nerve-ending in his body begging for more. You’re about to head back inside when he clears his throat, grabbing your attention.

“Any chance you’d be willing to give me your number, sweetheart? Just to make sure you get home safe?” He prays it doesn’t sound too hopeful, as desperate as he is for you to comply. You cock your head incredulously, and he swears his heart skips a beat.

“Just to make sure I get home?”

“And maybe to ask you to dinner. Or, you say no and I fuck off.” You chew on the inside of your cheek to suppress the excited grin. Hoping you appear nonchalant despite yourself. Taking a few steps forward, you extend your hand. Brows raising in expectation as he stares at you. He snaps out of it, digging into his pocket with a muttered ‘oh, right.’

“All right mate! Thought you’d never get the balls to ask her. Been going on and on about her since you nearly tackled ‘er”

“Fuck off, Lemon.” Tan seethes, eyes averting to you when you giggle through your rushed typing into his phone. “He’s drunk, pay no mind.”

“Trollied, right?” There’s teasing heavy on your tongue, and it takes everything in him not to pull you in for a kiss right there. On the curb of some mangy club whilst the impatient driver honks in warning.

“Right. Goodnight, love. Careful getting home, yeah?” You nod, mindlessly standing up on your tip-toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Night.”

And with that, you’re headed back inside. Feeling his eyes on you the entire time. Only looking back when the door closes behind you. Ensuring he can’t see you spying. He has his head down, biting a smirk from his lips before gaining composure, tossing himself into the cab beside his brother.

***********

“You’re not needed, I have this handled.”

“You don’t actually. I’ve seen corpses more capable of brain activity than this, mate.”

“Piss off.”

“I would, but I like your girlfriend more than you, and therefore don’t want to leave her with this,” he motions to the mess of tools and table parts, “all alone.”

The two of you sit opposite him, Lemon unfolds the discarded instruction sheet with a deep sigh.

“You’ve got the wrong bolt on that one.”

“No I don’t.”

“You do, mate. Considering I’m the one with the fucking instructions.”

“See, if I was a fuckin’ mug like you, I’d need the directions. But I’m not, so I don’t.”

“Well, you must be. Considering that’s the wrong fucking bolt.”

You rub your temples, fighting an oncoming migraine. Taking the drill from the floor and setting it counter-clockwise to remove the damned bolt. Tan takes it from you, setting his hand on your stomach to push your criss-crossed form backward.

“Hey!”

“What did I say? I didn’t want you doing this, Dove. You’ve just gotten those nails done. I-” He stops himself, taking a breath. “We got this covered.”

“This seems patronizing and sexist.”

“Quite the opposite. I respect you so much I’d rather not have you sit on the floor and do this.”

You huff, arms crossed as you glare at him. Too worn out to argue, and figuring there’s an array of boxes to be unpacked, you scramble to your feet.

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe later, love. I’m quite busy at the moment.” The cheeky response gets a laugh out of even Lemon, who straightens as soon as your heated gaze snaps to him. You flip them both off, no real anger to it as you head back toward the bathroom.

**********

Another couple hours pass and you’ve finished both bathrooms and are working on the master bedroom. Airpods in to block out the onslaught of arguments. You hum to your music, unaware of the eyes on you.

Tangerine leans against the doorway, finding comfort in watching you in your shared home. It’s weird, new, to share just about everything now. Scary, no doubt. Tan had walls around him so high it took months for you to even shake them. But you’ve done it, somehow. A little minx, he regards you, because you’ve managed to get through to him sometimes without him even realizing. He’s eternally grateful whatever scraps of good karma he had left accumulated to bring you into his life. Terrified it might one day be ripped away. Every time the thought passes his mind, his throat tightens, and he gets the overwhelming urge to hold you and never let go.

Your startled gasp snaps him out of it, a hand clasping over your heart in shock. “Christ, Tan. Give a girl a warning.”

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He swallows, a beat before continuing. “I love you.” Your eyes narrow at his sweet tone, trying to uncover the mischief in his sultry voice.

“What’d you do?”

“Nothing, honest. I can’t say I love you?”

“You can.” You turn your head from him, suppressing a smirk as you busy yourself with folding clothes. “Just...Not in the hall, okay?”

“What? Why?”

“It’s just,” you’re holding in a laugh now, a death wish for sure. “I don’t want Brian to hear, that’s all.” He crosses his arms, hiding his clenching fists at your teasing.

“You think that’s funny? Taking the piss like that?” You muffle a laugh with your sleeve, morphing it into a cough. “Tread lightly, my love.”

“You know, I bet Brian builds loads of tables. Must be real fast at it, considering he works in construction and all. Lot’s of strong men in that field of work.”

“Y/n.” Your name is rare on his lips, singed with irritation. You’re clearly well-past having him worked up, You press on, keen on getting him back for his suggestive comment from before.

“I always wanted to get to know a blue-collar type. So hardworking, great with their hands-” You’re in the air and flopped onto the mattress yet to have a bed frame before you can even process it. He cages you in, an arm on either side of your head to support himself as his eyes bore daggers into yours. Curls unruly and dampened with sweat.

“Stop it. Or beloved Brian’s in a body bag by tomorrow morning, yeah?” You know he’s not entirely serious, but also entirely capable, so you nod. You press your lips together, thoroughly amused. He takes your jaw in his hand and uses his thumb to pull your lips free. Tugging you into a kiss, he’s only satisfied when you gasp after your bottom lip is bit. Not too hard, he’d never hurt you, but it’s enough warning to shut you up. He gets up, hands on his hips and breathing heavy as he watches you get to your feet. Wordlessly, he sweeps a leg under yours, chuckling when you’re collapsing back into the mattress with an umph.

“You really are a fucking Gordon, you know that?” There’s no time to scramble away from his lunging form as he tugs you by the ankle toward him. One hand grabbing your arm and the other on your leg as he hoists you over his shoulder, cheekily reminding you of the power imbalance as he carries your squirming form down the corridor and into the kitchen. Where Lemon lays sprawled out on the now standing table. The air conditioner hums across the room, and the faux argument is ripped from your mind as you survey the accomplished tasks.

“Nothing a little teamwork and drive can’t do,” Lemon boasts. “You know where I learned that, Tangerine?”

“If you mention the fucking trains, It’ll be the last thing you fuckin’ do.”

*************

“Tan, could you pass the lo mein?” Your boyfriend chews thoughtfully, considering it for a moment before extending it to you. Your eyes narrow when he pulls away as soon as you reach.

“Maybe you should ask Brian.”

“My god, we’re still on this?”

“Should have known better than to tease him with another man, love. Gordons are prone to jealousy.”

“Fuckin’ pipe it, Lems.”

“It was a joke, baby. Are you gonna hold this over my head forever?” You find it endearing, hard to believe Tangerine could think there’s even a hint of honesty to your teasing.

“Until I’m sure you’re proper guilty, yeah.” There’s a hint of play in his tone, and you know he only wants to hear you repeat your devotion.

“Tan, love, baby, sweetheart, love of my life, will you please pass the lo mein to your dutifully devoted girlfriend?”

“Sure thing, love. Could have just said so.” The playful banter is stuttered to a halt when Tan sets the box beside you, the legs of the newly built table creaking as they give out. With their instinctive reflexes, Lemon and Tangerine keep the entire thing from collapsing. You’re slack-jawed, in utter shock at the absurdity and slight victory of being right, as god damn usual.

“Dove,” your boyfriend’s voice strains under the exertion, meeting your eyes “be a doll and take everything off here?” You’re up in an instant, quickly snatching the array of food and plates off the surface. Lemon begins to laugh despite himself, and Tangerine seethes with frustration.

“Maybe we should-”

“Don’t. Don’t even think about saying that fuckin’ muppets name.” Tan stares daggers into his brothers eyes, paying no mind to your stifled giggles. When they finally set the table on the ground, you approach him. Tugging at his arms so you can wrap yours around his waist. You press your chin into his chest, running a hand through his unruly curls.

“Baby.” You’re soft, tone so sweet and eyes big and pleading.

“Lose the puppy eyes, doll. It’s a no.”

“I personally would like to finish dinner not on the floor. But that’s just me.” Lemon purses his lips, brows raised expectantly at his brother.

Tan releases a deep, shaky sigh, dark gaze softening when he meets yours. He tries to tug his head away when your hands hold it, but you’re insistent, making him face you again.

“I’m all yours, alright? I promise.” You kiss both his cheeks and then his neck, some tension leaving him. He tilts his head in faux irritation when you stick out your pinky to him, grinning when he finally gives in and wraps his much bigger one around yours.

**********

“It’s already so nicely decorated in here.” Brian surveys the room with a polite smile, turning to you. “All this is your eye, y/n?” You straighten, hoping the man won’t notice your boyfriend’s homicidal stare.

“Tan has more taste, admittedly.” You’re not just trying to take the attention off you, it’s the truth.

“Well that should be obvious, he got you.” Lemon coughs, setting a hand on his brother’s shoulder with tight, grounding grip. The slightly shorter man boils beside him, eyes boring into yours in an enraged ‘I told you so’.

Your neighbor places his work bag on the floor, cringing at the sight of the flattened table. He approaches the brothers, clueless, patting their arms with sympathy.

“Should have gotten me earlier, guys. You know you can call me over any time for some help. Handiwork isn’t for everyone, some things are just left for the professionals.

“No kidding.” Tan mutters, letting Lemon pry his fingers from the biggest kitchen knife you own when the man’s back is turned to them.

“We’ll have to grab brunch sometime, y/n.” He’s blissfully unaware as he talks between rounds of the drill. Unscrewing mistakes and penciling out where they should actually go. “I’ll fill you in on the rest of the neighbors. Some of the ones to avoid and all.” Lemon’s practically wrapped around his brother, praying to a god he doesn’t believe that the clueless fuck will shut up. You cross the room while he drills away, placing your hands on Tan’s chest and pressing into him. He can’t even see you, can’t even feel you as his blood burns his own skin. Considering the fasted method of kill and cleanup over and over again in a final stitch to calm himself.

“You’ll have meet Cody first, of course. I’ve already told him there’s finally another young couple in the building. Thank god.”

“S-Sorry, mate?” Lemon loosens his grip in realization, fighting a bellowing laugh.

“My bad, I tend to drill when I’m talking. Cody gets on me for that, too, This is what I mean, sweetheart. We need to escape the doting boyfriends for a little. Enough to drive anyone nuts.” He shoots you another smile, pleased to see you nodding profusely.

“Absolutely.” You turn to Tan, whose brows are taught in utter confusion. “They can be a real pain sometimes.”

“But, alas.” The drill whirs, he stops talking for a beat and then releases the trigger to finish. “We love them.”

“To bits and pieces.”

Tan collapses against the counter, right exhausted from the strain of keeping his composure. Pure relief washes over him, and you let him pull you into an embrace.

“Boys, would you mind helping me turn this right side up? i think I’m all finished here.” They comply, Tan reluctantly pulling away and kissing your temple in silent apology. Together, they set it upright and each give it a good shake to ensure it’s stability.

“Thanks, mate. I owe you.” Your boyfriend gives the now beloved neighbor a firm shake, a hint of guilt in his eyes.

“British and handsome, you two are truly a killer pair.” Brian gathers his things and checks a notification ding on his phone. Sighing fondly. “Speak of the devil.” He waves his phone to you with a lighthearted roll of his eyes. “See you all soon.” Giving you a quick hug, he exits as soon as he came.

“Most definitely not a diesel, that bloke.”

#tangerine #tangerine x y/n #tangerine x you #tangerine and lemon #lemon #bullet train #tangerine imagine #atj #atjohnsonedit #aaron taylor johnson #bullet train imagine #tangerine and ladybug #imagines #fanfic #aaron taylor johnson imagine #lemon x tangerine #lemon x reader #diesel #gordon

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r3verse-the-polarity · 17 days

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HCs for the Torchwood team as Teachers

Jack teaches P.E. Because. Yes. No one actively dislikes him but he's generally known for being a bit mad. I.E American and aggressively positive all the time. He never comments on bad behaviour and is constantly grinning and playing a character of himself for the lads, which means they do get engaged in his lessons. The school would defo use his charisma to have him run open days and assemblies and stuff. He's also in all the school shows, any of the chances for teachers to embarrass themselves. He would eat that up. Unfortunately I think he would absolutely make his group do The Bleep test, but he'd also want to participate, so after most people are out he's just running for a solid half the lesson while his group watches. He gets laughed at and it's the talk of the school. Then when they go to tournaments and stuff students at the other schools also noticed him specifically because, uh, he's pretty noticeable, and he becomes known as a bit of a legend in the community.

Toshiko teaches Computer science and Information Technology of course. She ended up with a physics set because of staff vacancies and sometimes students come to her for help with maths if they're otherwise too intimidated. I think her classroom would be super calm. She would set so much homework and punish pretty harshly if not completed. She's generally respected and some people find her boring, but she's the best person to have as a tutor (form teacher.) They go all in at Christmas, and she gives out lots of chocolates. Tutor time is just quiet drawing or revision to music while she takes lots of time to speak to everyone individually and learn about them. She'd spend a lot of it just chatting and probably tells them a fair bit about her life story and school in Japan and her interests. She treats all students equally and it does have an impact after she brings out the best in some of the more gobby and unengaged ones. I also feel like she would hold a senior leadership role like Head Of Science or Head of Year Seven. She's been teaching for a while.

I don't know that Gwen would be a subject teacher to be honest. I think she's either Head of Behaviour or SENco (disability support) She's the one with an enormous coat and heavy lanyard and frazzled hair. She's awfully condescending and constantly gets made fun of (for good reason tbf) I am not a Gwen basher but I think she'd be annoying in a school. We see a few times in the show she tries to comfort people because she wants to feel like she's more emotionally mature than them, and it reminds me of the teachers who see a kid looking upset and refuse to leave them alone because they're just so nice apparently, then explain to the child that their problem is entirely invalid and it's somehow their fault. Needless to say, students don't like her. However, the other teachers do, as does Rani's Dad the head teacher, who's name I can't remember. They think everything she does must be brilliant because she was in the police. She does assemblies about it. She does improve behaviour because people don't want to have to deal with her.

Owen teaches Chemistry. Owen bears an uncanny resemblance both physically and in personality and mannerisms to my irl chemistry teacher and I can't ignore it. He doesn't really realise what he's doing but he sometimes lets on personal information which the class cling on to, but he's never like "My partner." Anyone he communicates with outside of the school is just "my mate." I think he'd be super gentle and sweet to the year sevens and the second they're in year eight he treats them the same as every one else, I.E bitchy and exhasperated. He falls out with a lot of students and they start skiving because they can't stand him, equally the students that like him are getting brilliant results. He can't stand students who answer back; "Have you ever met someone with the personality of a damp pillowcase?" so sometimes he's just arguing with someone who he should really send out while the rest of the class are laughing their heads of silently. He absolutely favours those that behave well and study hard, but he's so willing to criticise them as well. He's so smug about everyone sitting on the science stools while he has a comfy chair.

Ianto does A level Sociology, Politics and Phycology. If it's a school in Wales he probably teaches Cymru in the main school, if not he teaches History at GCSE. Not many people have had him because he's mostly a sixth form teacher. He's super chill in class but in the halls his lack of volume control comes in handy. He's very good at the controlling the class and basically manipulating them into getting all the work done, as such his groups get some of the best exam results in the school. His classroom is the neatest, he never takes time off and is completely organised with lesson plans and resources. He does not get involved with any of the extracurriculars other than running Cymru club, and continues to wear a suit on non uniform days and when its 30+ degrees. He holds everyone to the same high standards regardless of whether they're eleven or eighteen, and speaks to everyone the same way. There's no such thing as a silly question in his class and he makes everyone feel very comfortable. He's never not in teacher mode. None of his students can imagine him outside of school, they theorise that he despawns the second he walks out of the gates. He never mentions his life so he's been (jokingly) shipped with just about every member of staff. Some of the students pester other teachers to tell them about him.

#torchwood #ianto jones #toshiko sato #owen harper #gwen cooper #captain jack harkness #andy davidson #british school

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these-conquered-woodlands · 9 months

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the order of the phoenix members & co as incorrect quotes pt 2

(as an anniversary post to one of my favorite incorrect quote collections)

molly: Alright, listen up you little shits. molly: Not you Harry. You’re an angel and we’re thrilled you’re here.

tonks: Hey guys, I found a spider. Cool little lad. Thanks for eating the mosquitos. tonks: Oh no, where did it go? mad-eye, standing on a chair: TONKS WHAT THE FUCK?!

remus: Snape has only scowled at me three times this week. Our acquaintanceship is really improving.

dumbledore: I've been expecting you, harry. harry: How did you do that without turning around? dumbledore: Let's just say the first few people I did that to were not you.

kingsley, warning about a death eater coming at tonks: To the left! tonks: Take it back now y'all!

tonks: What happened to your nose? mad-eye: I used it to break someone's fist.

snape: You read my diary?

dumbledore: At first I did not know it was your diary. I thought it was a handwritten book about a kind of sad fellow. And then I came to a chapter called 'I hate my fucking bosses,' and thought it sounded a little too familiar.

sirius: I apologize for saying 'fuck' during the meeting and horrifying these dear kids. molly: You just said it again. sirius: I am not a role model.

tonks: Mad-eye said it's my turn with the brain cell! sirius: Alright, square up-

sirius: What do you call a dictionary on drugs? kingsley: "Addict-ionary"? sirius: I was actually going to say "high definition", but your answer's much better. kingsley:…

dumbledore: It’s nice to be wanted, you know? minerva: Not by the law!

remus, during deathly hallows probably: There’s always that weak little shit in the group who isn’t down with murder. remus: *glares at harry* harry: Well, sorry I have morals!

tonks: So if our plan goes poorly, where should we meet up? mad-eye: The afterlife, probably.

molly: Where are you going? fred and george: To either get ice cream or commit a felony. We'll decide on the way.

tonks: You didn't think maybe we'd need some actual weapons? dumbledore: Knowledge is the best weapon- tonks: I’m pretty sure weapon is the best weapon.

*trying to solve some mystery*

ron: I've connected the two dots. hermione: You didn't connect shit. ron: I've connected them.

tonks: Who the fuck- kingsley: Language! tonks: Whomst the fuck- kingsley: No.

mundungus: I think I mostly want to see what happens when this whole place breaks apart.

hermione: Harry says thanks for popping by. He’d love to chat but he's up to his eyes in homework. perhaps if you could come by next week- snape and remus, coming to check on him: He’s climbing out the window isn’t he? hermione:

sirius: *closes a cabinet* a crash is heard behind the cabinet door molly: What was that? sirius: sirius: The sound of someone else's problem.

*after discussing a plan* dumbledore: Does anyone have any questions? kingsley: Is this legal? dumbledore: Does anyone have any relevant questions?

tonks: Hey mad-eye, are you awake? mad-eye: what tonks: Are you awake? mad-eye: Who the fuck do you think just said ‘what’?

harry, at the end of order of the phoenix: You guys really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you even get here so fast? arthur: Several air traffic violations. kingsley: Three counts of resisting arrest. mad-eye: Roughly thirteen bottles of firewhiskey (collectively). tonks: *pointing at the knight bus* Also, that's not our bus.

Bonus:

dedalus, hestia, and those other guys in the order who are rarely mentioned in the books watching the main characters' shit go down: -The actual fuck is happening now??

#i feel like that first quote was invented exactly to describe harry and molly's interactions lol #harry potter #order of the phoenix #hp incorrect quotes #nymphadora tonks #albus dumbledore #minerva mcgonagall #mad eye moody #kingsley shacklebolt #sirius black #remus lupin #severus snape #molly weasley #ron weasley #hermione granger

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octuscle · 1 year

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Hello? Does someone hera me? Support? Oh thanks god. I was toying around on my computer with the chronivac when my little brother came out of nowhere and threw a football at me. I managed to dodge it but it landed straight on my keyboard. After throwing him out of my room, I came back only to see a countdown on my screen and I can't stop it. I was playing around the "Usefull to yoru country" parameter. Wait, I feel my legs tingling, it feels like they are allwing out. What is happening? I don't feel good, I think i'm gonna faint...

The only thing I can see is that your webcam was turned on and the "Use webcam images" mode is enabled. But I can't for the life of me see what transformation was initiated by the countdown. My system just tells me "process successful". I'm pretty much at a loss.

Just sit down at your computer, get another bag of chips and play a round of WoW. But maybe let some fresh air in. Your room stinks!

Saturday morning. Your room is really a mess. And somehow you feel the need to clean it up. As you sort through your dirty laundry, you smell your running socks. They are still good for a run. So you put on your running clothes, bring down the rest of the dirty laundry. And you run for an hour. When you come home with fresh rolls, your parents are just waking up. And your little brother is still sleeping. You make breakfast and grab the sports section of the newspaper. Since when are you interested in soccer?

Your mother is shocked when she sees you sitting at your tidy desk. But you have homework to do. This afternoon you would like to go to the swimming pool. The weather is good, but homework comes first.

As you pack your bag for the pool, you grab the football from your little brother. The lazy kid has already been at the pool for hours. He certainly hasn't done his homework. It doesn't matter to you, the main thing is that you and he find some lads to kick around on the football pitch.

After helping your mom clean up the kitchen, you watch some sports with your dad. Your hero is Lautaro Martínez. In your opinion, the best striker in the world. Your father disagrees. But he pats you on the back and says that you are the expert.

Sunday morning. Tonight you go back to the boarding school. So after your morning run and breakfast, you iron your laundry and pack your bag. Then it's off to the sports field. Your old club is playing today. After all, they play in the National League. But that was too little for you at some point. You want to make it big. The boarding school is your big chance. Almost all the national players have trained out here. Sure, a lot of work. Requires a lot of discipline. But in the end, you could have a great career.

Monday morning. The school day begins with a warm-up game. Kicking in the park or the outdoor pool is okay. But soccer is not a game, it's sport. It's just more fun with the right team.

Your best buddy asks if you filled your belly with chips and junk food again over the weekend. You show off your six-pack and grin. It's clear, as if someone here would eat unhealthy. After all, the scouts from the U20 national team are coming tomorrow. It's time to give something back to your country!

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #chronivac

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il0veyoujk · 7 months

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Soldier! Attack!

This is a tickle-related ff, if you are not interested in it, please keep scrolling

Summary: Jungkook returns home from his military service to see his little sister, Nefeli (18)

Warnings: None

Notes: This ff is requested by the beautiful @someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae ! I hope you'll like it love! I am sorry I couldn't do it a cheer-up ff, but I remembered it last second, and I couldn't change it, I had to rewrite the whole ff 😭

Lots of love Nef 💕

The sound of the front door shutting wasn't enough to pierce the sound of the loud music Nefeli was busting through her headphones. The young girl was currently in her room, pretending to study. In reality, she was vibing to her favorite music, with her Spanish book widely open in front of her, and her homework waiting.

Nefeli was wiggling her body to the rhythm of the music, feeling like she owned the world. Using her pen as a microphone, she pretended to be the singer and headbanging unstoppably. Just like she used to when she was a little girl.

"We are home!" her parents yelled the moment they stepped home "Nefeli! We have a surprise for you!" her mum used her singsong voice to allure her daughter into coming downstairs.

One, two, three minutes... Nefeli was nowhere to be seen. She was so drowned in her music she hadn't heard anything. Looking at each other, the two middle-aged ones decided to send the surprise to their daughter.

Nefeli was occasionally trying to focus on her exercises, trying to conjugate the verb cosquillear, but the loud Lady Gaga music was too intense to ler her focus. Vibing excitedly, she was enjoying herself way too much to notice an unexpected change in her room.

However, turning her head, the young girl was shocked to see her older brother leaning on the doorframe smirking "Why hello there girly" Jungkook chuckled, amused.

It's been a year since Jungkook left for his military service. He hadn't seen his family all this time. Even though they communicated with letters, it's not the same as seeing each other in real life.

"Eeek! You are home!" Nefeli squealed. She instantly jumped on her brother, letting her headphones fall on the floor "I missed you so much!"

Catching her, Jungkook let out a small groan along with a small giggle "Hehey! I missed you too, little one!" he smiled softly, gently swinging his little sister in the air back and forth.

The two siblings remained all hugged for a while, not bothering to even move a single inch from the spot the young lad was standing "So you still got the moves huh?" Jungkook scrunched his nose cutely and bounced her gently in the air like he used to when she was younger.

"You think?" Nefeli giggled, as she was squishing her brother's cheeks "I had the best teacher!" she smiled widely.

It was true, Nefeli had learned how to sync with the rhythm through BTS video clips. Ever since she was a kid, she would try to copy every choreography her brother and his friends would publish. She had ever mastered some of them! And Jungkook was so proud of her.

A wide, bunny-toothy grin appeared on Jungkook's face. He gently placed a kiss on her cheek and hug her tighter "Aw thank you little one" he giggled softly.

A small smirk though flashed onto Nefeli's face, who giggled softly "Oh I meant Jimin, not you" she shrugged, trying not to show her teasing sense.

However, the small smirk turned into a full-on giggly state the moment Jungkook's fingers started wiggling around on Nefeli's ribs "Oh really? Jimin huh? Not me?" he asked in the most mischievous, warning tone he has ever used.

The surprising, way too missed feeling on her sides, made the young girl erupt into an unexpected loud fit of giggles "Whahahaha--- wait nohohoho pleahahase ahahaha!" she squealed as she was thrashing around in her brother's grip, trying to push herself out of there.

The two siblings would occasionally have tickle fights, usually with the young girl ending up on the receiving end. But it was their dynamic. They loved those cute little fights!

Nefeli failed miserably to escape her brother's arms. Much to her surprise. Usually she would manage after one or two tries. Yet, this time she didn't.

Chuckling mockingly next to his little sister's cheek, Jungkook moved his fingers to Nefeli's favorite, and worst spot: the sides! He started walking towards his own bedroom, letting her now hysterical giggles fill the whole house "You should know better than to tease a soldier, cutiepie!" Jungkook teased, as he was tasering the poor girl's sides.

"Nohohoho stohohop ahahaha! Whahahat did I do ahahaha?!" Nefeli screamed between her loud giggles. She was flailing around in the air in her attempt to fall off of her brother and run away for dear life.

Of course though, that didn't happen. It was nowhere close to happening!

"Oh stop screaming, Nef! You know it's going to happen, stop fighting it" Jungkook used his singsong voice to tease his little sister as he was throwing his sack on the floor and closing the door behind him.

"He's tickling her again" mrs Jeon smiled to herself as she was preparing dinner downstairs. Homemade pepperoni pizza! Jungkook's favorite.

"It's not like she's complaining though. She loves it!" mr Jeon commented as he was reading his newspaper. Yes, the historical tickle fights in the Jeon residence were well-known in the whole neighborhood.

Upstairs in Jungkook's room, Nefeli was trying to fight to escape the ticklish hell she was put into. She was thrown onto the bed and Jungkook was pinning her down with his own body weight and was torturing her poor tummy with his fingertips "Aww you are just as I ticklish as I remembered!" he giggles as his fingertips were shaking on her tummy like crazy.

A deep blush had started spreading on her cheeks as Nefeli was trying to push his hands away all shy "I ahahaham nahahaot ticklish ahaha-AHAHAHA NAHAHAHAO AHAHAHA!!!" she tried to lie... but a few nibbles on her side made the poor girl go ballistic!

Jungkook knew what he was doing... Pretty well! Using her worst against her... "I am sorry what? Did you just dare to lie, little one? Huh?" he smirked widely before moving his nails on her poor armpits and started scribbling on them like crazy.

Instantly pressing her arms on her torso, Nefeli trapped Jungkook's fingers under her armpits, unfortunately for her "Whyhyhy did you cohohome bahahahack so meahahan ahahaha?!" she squealed through her loud giggling.

"Oh no... Now I have to dig my way out... You are so rude" the young lad was enjoying the playful torture he was giving his little sister to the fullest. Not that Nefeli wasn't... but maybe Jungkook was enjoying this a bit more. He had missed her laughter... So here he was now, digging into his little sister's armpits mercilessly, making Nefeli howl in loud giggling and driving her crazy bit by bit.

"Agh!" Nefeli squealed loudly as she was wiggling around like a worm "Nohoho pleahahahase ahahaha I ahaham sorry ahahaha!" she pleaded as her hands were gripping onto her brother's wrists to pull them away from her.

"Oh no no no no no no, you are not getting away with just a few begs" the young lad smirked as he lowered his head again towards her tummy "You are going to regret choosing Jimin over me!"

And that's where Nefeli lost it... She widened her eyes, but before she could even ask for mercy, she instantly felt tiny shots of electricity hitting her unstoppably and all over her midsection, exposed as it was from squirming around too much "NOHOHOHO NOT THE BEHEHEHERRIES KOOK PLEAHAHASE AHAHAHA I AHAHAHAM SORRY!" she screamed in laughter, throwing her head back in ticklish agony.

Jungkook was shaking his own head on Nefeli's tummy to add more to the ticklish sensations. A few chuckles would escape his mouth while he was blowing raspberries all over Nefeli's midsection "Oh so now we're using nicknames huh? Such a cheap way to escape your punishment, little one..." he mumbled on Nefeli's soft skin.

This situation kept on for about three more minutes. Having moved his fingers to her sides, Jungkook wasn't planning on showing any hint of mercy any time soon... The whole house was filled with hysterical laughter and nonstop begging from Nefeli's way too ticklish reactions.

However, a well-known voice interrupted the playful assault of the Jeon siblings "Kids! Dinner's ready!" mrs Jeon yelled for her children.

Everything stopped instantly. Jungkook let go of his little sister in an instant and pulled away. It's been months since he's eaten his favorite food! "This isn't over..." he mumbled, poking a few times Nefeli's tummy and sides before eventually letting her go "I just have to gain some more energy for round two... You better disappear!" he smirked, winking at his little sister.

As Jungkook ran downstairs to grab a bite, Nefeli remained on his bed in a ticklish delirium, with a wide smile on her face. She was trying to catch her breath hopelessly, as a few leftover giggles were leaving her mouth.

Jungkook made his case clear... She better hide!

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basmathgirl · 7 months

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You reblogged a Gif set of the first episode of the fourth season of DW „Partners in Crime“. One of your tags reads “filed under: things they often did to Donna” in regards to the unflattering lighting. And now I’m wondering what do you mean by that or what are other examples of “things” they did to Donna in your opinion?

Hello kind Anon

I started collecting examples to show you, but it qucikly became like a school homework project, so I won't write an essay about it.

Basically, Donna was not meant to be seen as glamorous, sexy, the love interest, or cool; just some middle-age woman close to the Doctor's visible age. And and we all know how the media has long dictated that only women under 25 (or under 30, at a push) can be seen as a romantic co-star. Good grief, CT was in the film "Starter For 10" in 2006, where she plays the mother to an 18 year-old lad, played by James McAvoy who is only 10 years younger than her, and she was paired with an actor almost 20 years older than her!

Anyway, I've picked three examples to get you thinking.

Watching S4 makes you realise that several bad lighting, unflattering costumes, and dodgy makeup decisions were made. I'm going to start with the way Donna was introduced to us in the trailer at the end of Doomsday as opposed to The Runaway Bride episode.

Trailer:

Episode:

Not exactly flattering in comparison - if you ignore being lit like a character from Wicked. You'e never think these were filmed only a couple of months apart. And there was the whole disappearing cleavage shenanigans to take into consideration:

One minute it's allowed to be there; the next it isn't. Why? It's as if busty women aren't allowed to exist. DT certainly enjoyed the view but that's a whole other post..

They often put Donna in clothing I'd bought for my mum. Take for instance the outfit she wears at the beginning of Fires of Pompeii.

Very middle age-to-early pensioner in design, you must admit. Yes, tunics were the fashion at the time the programme was made but this is at the opposite end of the spectrum to Rose's 'little girl' pinafore combo or Martha's leather jacket. It's practical clothing that's not meant to be attractive but comfortable. Except all that nylon would have had her sweating like a pig in the Italian heat. Oh well. It's not as though they intended for her to look pretty. The dress Evelina gives her is a definite step up, but it is still very 'mumsy'.

Our last view of Donna was originally her wedding to Shaun Temple.

What could have been a pretty dress becomes a hideous outfit for Donna. They must have chosen the most unflattering hairstyle for her ever possible. But never mind, eh? She gets handed a winning lottery ticket so it doesn't matter if she doesn't look beautiful on her wedding day. At least she could look at the photos later and acknowledge Nerys managed to be pretty in a peach dress. The money should more than make up for it *chokes on my own spital*

Yes, I have many problems with the whole wedding scene in The End of Time where Donna gets her 'dream' of being married to a man who doesn't even stand next to her in most of the photos. Not that she seems to mind. We're supposed to believe she gets a huge pay cheque a happy ever after to fulfil the dream.

In case you were wondering, I'm much happier with the 60th anniversary specials.

#kind Anon #Donna Noble #costume and lighting choices #basically a rant #if I'm honest #not my gifs

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maraschinomerry · 1 year

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okay so, what about a lockwood and co x reader (platonic) where reader is quiet but if she does speak it’s always blunt or sarcastic or kinda rude because she doesn’t know how to express her feelings nicely but she shows her love in ways like act of service or protecting the others on a mission and like linking pinkies with them when walking to the archives and things and everyone is convinced she hates every other person but they know they’re the closest thing she’s ever had to a family even if she doesn’t say it

thanks so much bae i understand if you don’t want to write it no presssure <3333

Saving Your Friends 101

Pairings: Lockwood & Co & gn!reader (I know you used she/her in the ask but there aren't actually any pronouns in the fic)

Content: found family, struggling with expressing feelings, school bully, canon-typical violence fighting a ghost, Kipps being a jerk

A/N: I'm the least sarcastic person ever so I hope this all sounds okay 😅 also I just had to use that gif as the header, Lucy looking so done felt like the right vibes for reader in this

Word count: 2.7k

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear @honey-with-tea (lmk if you want adding or removing!)

"Hey loser! I thought I told you to finish my maths homework!"

You were 8 years old, sitting making patterns in the dirt of your school playing field when your horrible classmate Jason stomped over with his group of equally unpleasant friends. He was a brute of a lad: what he lacked in height he made up for in muscle, his expression was almost permanently fixed in a scowl, and he had a small scar on his cheek that everyone thought was so cool and intimidating (but which you knew he got from falling off his bike when he was 5). Half the school, teachers included, were wrapped around his little finger in fear. But not you.

"Go away, Jason."

"Or what? You're not doing anything, nobody ever wants to play with you."

"I don't care," you shrugged. "I'm not going to waste my time so you can pretend you're not too stupid for times tables."

Jason stepped forward to tower over you, stocky frame casting your whole body in shadow, and a few of his cronies twitched with tempered aggression. "What did you say?"

You stood up on the spot, forcing him to lean back to normal as your face rose ever closer to his. You were a couple of inches shy of him, dungarees rolled several times at the ankles to stop you tripping over, but he wasn't exactly tall in comparison to his group. Being smaller didn't faze you; you squared up to him without hesitation. "I said you're stupid and wasting my precious minutes. Life is short… and so are you."

The cluster of boys burst out laughing - not at you, at him. Jason grew red in the face and puffed up like he could account for the missing height to fight you better, but you merely raised an eyebrow. One of the boys stepped out from the group and punched you encouragingly on the arm. Another much taller boy leaned on Jason's shoulder to emphasise the difference. Jason stormed off.

—

Ever since then, quick wit and sarcasm had been your shield as you carried yourself through the world. From holding up against your affectionless parents to commanding instant respect when you started training to be an agent, they served you so well that you near enough forgot how to be any other way. And that was fine. It worked, kept you detached and independent. That is, it worked until you joined Lockwood & Co.

You settled in quickly, discovering that the rest of the agency could be just as snappy as you. George especially had proved more than a match from the day you arrived.

"I'm here for a job," you announced when the curly-haired boy, dressed in orange plaid, opened the door of 35 Portland Row.

"As an agent?" he frowned. Lockwood hadn't put out another ad, as far as he knew.

"No, I just like accessorising with a rapier."

"Well, if it's as sharp as your tongue I shouldn't be in too much danger. Come in." Despite the insult you followed him with a grin. Finally, someone who might get you.

Unlike you, however, they knew how to switch it off. Your switch had rusted long ago, if not fallen off completely. Normally it wouldn't have bothered you, if it had kept you alive up to now it was worth it, but the longer you stayed the more you found yourself growing genuinely fond of your teammates and entirely unable to tell them as much. Nothing had to change, of course, that was what you told yourself - letting them in would only make you weak, it was better to keep to yourself. Say as little as possible to them. You tried to quiet the little voice in the back of your head which whispered that maybe the reason you kept your distance was that you were afraid of saying the wrong thing and scaring them off, of losing your first real friends.

—

"Everybody ready?" Lockwood asked as he dropped his kit bag onto the kitchen floor with a dull thud. You'd been ready nearly 10 minutes, still fairly new to working cases despite the months you'd been there and eager to respect the schedule that Lockwood had set out. Lucy had been the next after you to arrive, offering a quick 'hi' which you acknowledged with a nod. When George came down he immediately started chatting to Lucy. He didn't ask if you wanted to join the conversation. You never seemed to. He often wondered if you actually wanted to be there at all, but you hadn't left despite how little you'd tried to bond with them. There were plenty of other agencies to go to, yet still you stayed.

While Lockwood checked over the supplies once more, you leaned over to Lucy, who so far had been a reliable source on the boys and their actions.

"Is he always this picky with the gear?"

Lucy sighed as she adjusted her bootstrap. "No, just when the case involves families like this one. Brings out his protective 'save the world' side."

You'd heard by now about the young age at which he'd been orphaned, he was open enough about the circumstances if not the details, and you understood his pain but had never been taught how to address anything as serious as that. All you had to work with was your dry humour. "Save the world? He can barely even save his toast in the mornings," you muttered. Lucy snorted.

"If you're quite done mocking my culinary abilities…"

"Oh, I'm definitely not done, but it can wait," you smirked. Lockwood rolled his eyes, but didn't miss the way you wordlessly joined him in sorting through the bags.

The case itself went well, up until about the last 5 minutes. You all successfully secured one source, but it turned out the house had a second Visitor which you discovered when the four of you were ambushed by it in the dining room. It was a man, looked to be in his late 40s, with a thinning head of hair and an even thinner frame. The previous owner, then, Richard. Lockwood immediately stepped forward, rapier brandished, but with an ear-splitting screech Richard tossed him aside. The rest of you watched in horror as he flew across the table and crashed through a chair to land in a pile of splintered wood.

You levelled your own rapier, less aggressively. "George, Lucy, look for the source," you fought to keep your voice as steady as your blade, all your usual confidence gone without the safety net of your snide remarks which would only anger the ghost. "Cabinet behind us is our best bet, I think. I'll help Lockwood." The other two exchanged a glance before nodding and moving slowly towards the cabinet in question. You began to move in the other direction, around the side of the table and towards the spectral figure which was hovering worryingly close to the boy in the debris.

"Hey!" you called. Richard's gaze snapped to you. You faltered. No. Confidence. Wit. Use your ridiculous snarky brain to keep Lockwood alive. "He's not a fair fight any more, and you're better than that, aren't you? Come on, show me what you've got."

You almost heard Lockwood's protest - you saw his lips forming the words, sure, but the noise itself was drowned out by the shriek that burst from Richard's snarling mouth as he rushed towards you. You planted your feet and held your ground, just like you'd done that day in the school yard all those years ago, but at the last second you rolled out the way and sent your rapier slicing upwards. Richard howled, but it wasn't enough to dematerialise him and within seconds he rounded on you again.

"Aww, not bad for a first attempt," you jeered. "Do you want to try again?" The words had barely left your lips before he was upon you, and you swung hastily. The blade split him right down the middle, but he reformed behind you and you had to dance across the space to avoid him, smacking your ribs painfully against a sideboard as you did so. Your chest was heaving as you faced him once more.

"Are you even trying to hit me?"

A lance of air struck you in the centre of your chest, knocking all the air from your lungs as you collided with the wall. That answered that. You would have cried out if you'd had the breath to do so. Lockwood was right beside you, midway from climbing out of the broken chair but now frozen in the glare of the wrathful spirit which hung above you both. With the last of your energy you dragged your body between him and it.

"Got it!" Lucy yelled frantically in the distance, and in a wave the feeling returned to your limbs as Richard disappeared. Lockwood groaned, reaching out to help you up from where you'd slumped against him.

"So you know when you're taught not to taunt the Visitors, did you just skip that class, or…?" he scolded, but there was a touch of amusement in his voice, his way of showing he was grateful to have been saved.

You chuckled, wincing as the sound rattled your bruised ribs. "Scheduling conflict, not my fault. Clashed with 'Saving Your Friends 101'." You realised that was the first time you'd called them your friends out loud. They realised it too.

—

That case marked the beginning of a shift within the agency. Where the rest of them had been struggling to see any indication that you cared about being part of the group, suddenly they couldn't stop seeing them. Nothing had changed in the way you spoke (minimally, and heavily sarcastic when you did), but they learned to notice everything you said without words. How you always grabbed the first aid kit when someone came home injured from a case, and insisted on treating the wounds yourself. The way you clicked the release on the toaster every time Lockwood risked leaving it a little too long. The times George would fall asleep while researching with you in the library and wake up with the blanket from the back of your chair draped across him. The fact that none of them had bought any more of Lucy's favourite tea in nearly two months, and yet whenever she was close to running out the caddy would be full again the next day. As they began noticing the subtle ways you expressed your feelings, they began to find little gestures they could do in return to show they cared without pressuring you into talking, which only strengthened your commitment further. Lucy poured you juice in the morning before you asked and put your pyjamas in the dryer while you were in the bath; Lockwood made a big act of ruffling your hair and calling you 'kiddo' like an enthusiastic uncle when you did something particularly well; George learned your rankings of pizza toppings and Arif's doughnuts by heart so you'd always get the highest one available. All so uniquely them.

—

It was a bright June morning, with fine wisps of cotton candy clouds drifting lazily across the sky. An ice cream van sounded nearby, being pursued by a horde of excitable children. This was no time for ice cream for Lockwood & Co, though - there was an exceptionally big case to research, and it was all hands on deck as the four of you strode towards the British Archives. Lockwood was on the right, trenchcoat left at home and shirt sleeves rolled up to make the most of the glorious sun, rapier hanging from his belt. Lucy was on his left, arm linked through his. Her other hand had started in the pocket of her blue playsuit, which today she wore without tights, but now it held yours and swung casually back and forth. George completed the line on your left. You knew by now that he wasn't overly keen on physical interaction, which you completely understood, but you also could tell when he was willing to let it slide to join in with the group. This was one of those moments. Your hands had brushed as you walked along, and your pinky had twisted round his. This was almost a habit between the two of you by now, not quite as intense as holding hands but still providing a tether, a connection.

Inside was bliss, the comforting scent of old books accentuated by crisp conditioned air which provided relief from the blazing heat outside. You all spread out to gather resources from across the archives. Lucy returned with a stack of books so high she could barely see over the top, and you shifted your files into one arm so you could pull a chair out for her with your free hand. She smiled at you as the books cascaded onto the table.

Before long you were thoroughly engrossed in the research. It was one of your favourite activities within the agency, an opportunity to make a helpful contribution without the expectation of speaking to anyone. The only sounds were the rustle of turning pages, the scratch of your pen as you scribbled notes, and the occasional comment from one of the others when they found something unusual.

"My my," a voice that didn't belong to the group filtered through the barrier of concentration you'd built. You looked up to see Quill Kipps and his team sneering at your table. "It must be a big case to have you all working on it. Or do you just need help with the difficult words, Tony?"

There was a tic in Lockwood's jaw, but he forced an overly polite smile. "It is a big case, one that our client clearly thought we were better equipped to handle."

Kipps scoffed. "Probably just trying to save a bit of cash on a sub-par service instead of paying for the premium. Not to worry, Fittes will be more than happy to finish the job when you fail to."

You decided to follow Lockwood's lead, putting on the most innocent expression you could muster. "Hmm, what was I…" you feigned forgetfulness. "Oh, George, you'll know! What's that theory with the monkeys and the typewriters?" Kipps' team took the bait immediately, giggling amongst themselves at your scatterbrained question.

"Supposedly if you had infinite monkeys with typewriters or one monkey with a typewriter and infinite time, they would eventually type out the complete works of Shakespeare. It's not exactly true though."

Your smile turned wolfish. "That's the one, and remembered without a database too! I just thought of it because I was wondering whether, given long enough, Kipps would eventually say something intelligent. Don't think that's true either."

The other group fell into a stunned silence, giving everyone the opportunity to hear Lucy choking back a laugh. Kipps opened his mouth to respond, but then had just enough sense to realise that there was hardly anything he could say that wouldn't prove your point and promptly closed it again. Instead he shot you all one last glare and turned silently on his heel. The rest of his team scampered after his retreating figure.

Lucy's laughter erupted with enough force that she almost tipped backwards out of her chair. George grinned at you. "That was amazing!"

"Couldn't have done it without you, genius."

You suddenly glanced at Lockwood. His rivalry with Kipps was more intense than any you'd seen before, and you hated to think you might have overstepped or taken away his chance at gaining the upper hand. Relief washed over you when he gave you his signature smirk, eyes twinkling with mischief. "If that's something else you learnt in 'Saving Your Friends 101', I might have to sign up for classes."

"Lucky for you I'm very committed to my studies, I can just lend you my notes."

Lucy leaned over to watch your pen gliding across the notepad as you spoke. She frowned at the page. "Your current note is just a doodle of… is that a crying monkey in a Fittes uniform?"

You all glanced in the direction in which Kipps had retreated. Lockwood reached across and picked up the notebook. "I'll definitely need to borrow this, for educational purposes of course… and then it's going on the fridge." You beamed with pride.

#lockwood & co x reader #lockwood and co #lockwood & co fanfic #gn!reader #platonic reader #save lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim

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