#chicken wire yard ghosts

[iriddigital]

[phantomphangphucker]

Phic Phight - The Green Ribbon Is Staples

@astatia-ghast @q-gorgeous @mr-lancers-english-class @tourettesdog

Danny gets a lot of injuries but every so often he gets one he’s never gotten before, normally that’s just a pain since none of the trio usually know what exactly to do about it but they eventually manage; unfortunately this time it’s a little too revealing.

Chap. 1:

Decapitation Station

Okay. So. Danny’s got a problem. Or twenty. Twenty problems sounds more accurate. Why? Well um, lets rewind a little. 

See he was heading home, from detention due to missing homework, like usual, when his ghost sense did what his ghost sense does. So, you know, he had a fight to fight, ghostly ass to kick. It was good ol’ Boxy because of course it was, he should have figured honestly. But the surprising part? The real cut throat turn of events? Yeah apparently Boxy got his hands on multiple boxes -read: more than two- of barbed wire, ecto-barbed wire because apparently Jeb was trying to protect his chickens -he has chicken in his houses tiny back yard for some fucking inane reason, like seriously why? Ugh- from a ghost kitsune. 

So Boxy threw the boxes at Danny like he normally does. 

Danny let the boxes phase through him like he normally does, because come on? regular boxes are a shit weapon. 

But surprise! That turned out to be the dumbest decision he’s made in a long fucking time. Why? Well because the ecto-barbed wire inside the boxes, that he obviously could not see because the boxes were fucking closed, did not go through him like he expect. 

They did go through him though. Just... not the way he wanted them to. 

Meaning they went through him by cutting through him very literally. He’d realised his fuck up quick enough to minimise the damage but that was because the first box was aimed at his goddamn head. The Box Ghost got to be cut throat for the first time in his entire existence, at the cost of Danny’s head getting fucking whole ass flung into a grocery store wall. 

At least this is how Danny got to find out he could still move his body without its head. It’s also how he found out that decapitation is terrifying to ol’ Boxy. 

“I! AM SORRY! THAT IS NOT OKAY! I mean you are less circular now!”.

Danny takes the time to have his headless body kick The Box Ghost in the shin as his hearing cuts out before using his thermos, it’s hard as fuck to aim without being able to tell what he’s looking at. Since, apparently, he could use his body without a head but couldn’t use his head without it being still connected to his core, fucking great luck there. 

It’s still pathetically easy to catch Boxy, even effectively blind. Using the feel of ecto-energy and ghostly pressure, no matter how weak, to figure out his own location and Boxy’s, aim and fire and he gets the ghost on his third try. No quippy wit of course, since he was down a fucking head holy shit. 

At least he manages to find his head, it, unfortunately, does not auto reattach. 

... And he can’t see to stitch it on himself. Meaning he needs Sam or Tuck, preferably Sam. But she’s not a ghost, meaning he can’t just locate her ecto-signature. He also can’t just float around Amity cradling his head and hoping she fucking sees him. He also can’t call, because no mouth obviously. So that’s either three or four of his twenty some issues. The fifth is just the pure fact that Boxy of all ghosts is the one to put him in this situation in the first place, talk about embarrassing. Ugh. 

Danny settles for calling Tuck, who can absolutely trance the call with ease, and just scrapping the phone speaker on the floor and making thumping noises with his feet. He’d look up morse code if he could see. Zone if he didn’t have Tuck on speed dial he’d be fucked... on second thought he might not have even managed to call Tuck. 

Should he try again? 

Well it can’t make things worse. 

He calls about twenty times and maybe some go through maybe some don’t. He can’t hear if there’s a voicemail. Fuck how is he even gonna know if Tuck does show up? If he had at least one of his heads senses he’d be cool, Tuck always smelled like meat and metal, his voice was an obvious easy identifier or whatever, he did in fact know what the guy’s skin tasted like, and sight was easy. 

But touch was all he’s got right now and unless he’s touching a ghost, aka something with an ecto-field, he can barely tell the difference between people. Maybe whoever will clue in and write their name on his arm or something? He can only hope to be that lucky. 

…

He is not that lucky. 

In multiple ways.

Who ever he’s called is definitely not lean or skinny. Meaning they’re not any of the people he was cool with calling. It’s not Sam’s lean muscled arms with sharp pointed nails. It’s not Tuck’s skinny arms and calloused fingers. It’s not Jazz’s skinny arms and would have been shaking hands. Zone it’s not even Val’s lean toned arms and firm grip. 

Whoever it is has thick muscled arms and rough large hands. If the hands where bigger he’d think he really fucked up and called his dad, but they’re not. Plus, his dads hands would probably not be shaking. His dad wouldn’t be freaked out by an injured ghost. His dad would not be handling an injured ghost with gentle care. His dad would not be seemingly attempting to help. His dad would either ‘study’ him or hurt him or capture him. 

This person is doing none of those three things. This persons hands are shaking, they are freaked out, and they are helping. Meaning he should be okay enough at least. Problem is he doesn’t know if this person can do stitches well enough to align and reconnect stuff, or if this person is actually anyone he called and not some random person who just happened to be around. 

Danny’s got his head cradled in one arm and pressed against his stomach, the person is holding onto that arm, so Danny uses his free hand to point at his head then at his neck, making vague stitching motions and hoping the message is getting across. 

He can feel heavy breathes brush against his jumpsuit so he’s guessing that who ever took some restorative breaths, good? Hopefully otherwise he might be very fucked until someone else shows up. Either way Danny moves his head so that he can kinda feel the mangled detached end of it brushing against the mangled detached end of his neck, he thinks he got his head on the right angle but whoever hopefully can line up his spine for him. 

Wait shit, if this isn’t Sam, Tuck, or Jazz, which it obviously isn’t, then they won’t know he has a fucking spine since ghosts don’t normally have that shit. 

Quickly lifting his head up making the person definitely jerk, to flip it enough for whoever to see the spine end. Gesturing vaguely where he thinks the spine end is, then leaning his body/neck forward and physically grabbing his spine and tapping on it. Hopefully they get it, he gives whoever a thumbs up for moral support before going back to aligning his neck ends and holding his head steady with both hands. 

The person goes around his back, their knees pressing up against his lower back and ass, whoever was tall damn. Not his dad tall but definitely at least six foot. Even their knees are shaking though so that’s not great; hopefully they have a decent therapist. Great now he sounds like Jazz, ugh. 

The person does tentatively touch his spine bit and Danny’s pretty sure he can feel his heads bit of spine pressing into it. He keeps holding his head when the other person feels to get up.

... 

They didn’t just leave did they? The fuck??? Even if he is a ghost that’s still pretty fucked up to just leave him, especially when whoever poked at him and maybe tried to see if they could help. 

... Did they maybe go to grab some shit perhaps? Right yeah most people didn’t just walk around everywhere with medi kits and shit.

...

It is taking whoever a while if that’s what they’re- oh wait nevermind, based on the vibrations on the ground he’s going to guess the person is back and it seems like they’re running. Cool. Okay. Definitely had gone to get stuff. 

The person damn near knees him in the back when they get back down on the floor with him. Jerk. Danny would scoff or scowl if his head was freaking attached. 

They’re grabbing at his spine again so it’s definitely one hundred percent the same person. Good. Cool. He wasn’t totally abandoned headless by a random grocery store. 

Then he feels some seriously jarring vibrations travel down from the bit of spine attached to his skull, officially very confused. What the actually crap did whoever run off to get??? Then he feels cold metal on his bodies exposed section of spine, it feels kind of like a flat bar? Oh! OH! Okay he is absolutely getting a metal bracket drilled into his spine to hold it together, that was actually pretty fucked up. Effective hopefully but wow, oof. This was gonna suck so much later.

And now he can’t tell if the person is shaking because of being freaked out or because of the goddamn drill they’re taking to his spine. 

He thinks whoever drills on three brackets or metal rods, before the drilling fully and finally stops. He’s starting to get some feeling back in the rest of his spine and the bottom bit of his skull but his actual skin and hair and senses are still a lost cause. Whoever taps he’s shoulder very cautiously and draws a question mark over his jumpsuit, so Danny moves to hold his head up by the hair and takes the other hand off of his head to try and pinch the jagged detached edges of neck skin together, then making the stitching gestures again. He needs his skin at least somewhat securely connected for things to heal at a remotely functional degree, annoying but whatever. 

The person writes ‘ok’ on his skin, at least the person was calm enough to try communicating with him now. Neat but Danny’s not going to push shit, instead going back to using both hands to hold his head steady. Unfortunately he had expected this person to, you know, use a sewing needle or something and some fucking thread to stitch his skin up. What he hadn’t expected was the sudden feeling of being shot with two extremely shallow and thin bullets straight in the neck. Ancients fuck what the hell?!? He absolutely jerks from that. 

Okay so, this fucker is using a goddamn staple gun he thinks? Did whoever run off to a fucking hardware store? The next staple is a lot shakier and Danny makes a point not to jump, which gets him rewarded with the next staple being less shaky. Danny’s just going along with this because it should? maybe? actually work? Hard to say since he’s never reached for goddamn staples when he’s needed a bit of patching up. This person was probably hoping that securing his spine would be good enough. Well tough shit, his luck ain’t that fuckin’ good. 

...

.......

It takes a goddamn while, and he thinks the person is taking fortifying breathers every so often. Which is fair. Stapling a persons neck back on had to be super upsetting and freaky. But! He can actually hear -yes, hear!- the staple gun noises now. It’s alarming a little, way too much like the sound of some of his folks guns but he can take it. But eventually whoever does stop. 

“Holy shit this is, so fucked”. 

Wait... holy shit, Dash???? Why him of all people???? The fuck? Well... okay guess Danny can’t be complaining too much. The guy had a ton of hero worship going on, so he wasn’t going to dick his goddamn idol over. 

Danny tentatively lets go of his head and, when it doesn’t flop over or anything, he gives Dash a double thumbs up. 

“Oh, oh thank zone his heads not loling over. Holy shit”. 

Danny taps on his ears and gives another thumbs up. 

“Are... are you trying to say you can hear again? Fuck this is so screwed up”; it kinda sounded like he ran his hands through his hair roughly. 

Danny gives another, but far more eager, thumbs up. 

“That’s? That’s good right?”.

Another thumbs up from Danny.

“Okay good. Good. This is so not how I ever wanted to run into my hero. In to you. What the zone even happened?”.

Danny doesn’t know how Dash expects him to answer him. So he makes an ‘x’ with his fingers over his mouth or where it feels like his mouth is anyways. 

“Still can’t speak huh?”, he actually snorts even if it sounds shaky as Hell, “that must suck for you”.

Oh hundred percent yes. Danny’s a talkative bastard. Danny flips him off. Apparently that’s really funny because Dash just starts wheeze laughing, it sounds like he flopped down on the ground which is honestly probably really gross, fuck knows what’s on it. 

“Zone I just stapled Phantom’s neck together and he flipped me off, what the fuck is today oh ugh”.

Hey if anyone’s having a shit day here it’s him. Sure having to fix him would be pretty fucked but at last Dash wasn’t the one dealing with being fucking decapitated and oh hey his visions coming back some. Blurry as hell but he can, in fact, see. He glances around, there’s a lot of glowing green stuff, probably his ecto, he should probably clean that up; also, he now knows why he usually fixes himself up with thread and not staples, shit is tense and makes his skin pull. 

Eyeing Dash, who’s staring at him Danny thinks, Dash jerking and sitting up, “hey the blank stares gone, you got vision back?”.

Danny wiggles his hand back and forth in the air and makes a weird squeaking sound, shrugging. Dash shakes his head disbelievingly, “I can’t believe you can survive losing your freaking head. Man that’s cool. Super freaky and I’m going to have so many nightmares now”. 

“Air pee”. 

Dash looks at him deeply concerned, opening and closing his mouth a few times before shaking his head and getting up. “You good? I can leave? Wait shit, sign my arm!”. 

Danny rolls his eyes but does as he’s asked because he is not nearly enough of an asshole to refuse after the guy stapled and drilled his freaking head back on. Danny also gives him a pretty solid back pat, “you ‘ight”. 

“Thanks but no? I’m raiding my dads liquor cabinet immediately”.

Danny can’t even give him shit for that, even if even he knows that ain’t the best way to deal with fucked up shit. Shrugging and stretching out, a lot of things cracking and popping, nice he’s seeing actual proper details now and his spine feels more proper spine like. Shit was gonna take so long to heal though. “Jus’ don’ mae rum ceral an’ don’ wine up inna ‘rigerater”. 

Dash sounds horrifically disgusted, “ew and... I won’t?”, the jock somewhat cautiously walks away. Fair enough, Danny just put him through some whack ass shit and then basically admitted to having had rum cereal and crawling into a refrigerator.... 

Him and his stupid fucking mouth. 

...

Okay so what now, if he changes back right now he’s going to start bleeding red everywhere. Fuck right, he’s gotta clean up his ectoplasm. At least that’s a simple thing, floating back down towards the ground and setting it all on fire. Watching the blue flames for a bit and realising that he absolutely can not hide Dash’s patch job for shit.

Well.

Fuck him entirely.

And by ‘him’ he means himself, not Dash. Dash did the best he could and Danny could not expect anyone to do a stellar job of reattaching people’s heads. In fact, someone being remotely skilled at that should be deeply concerning. Even a ghost having that skill would be concerning.

Alright so first things first, find something reflective and check Dash’s work out. Hmmmm. Okay so a chunk of shiny metal will have to do. Him lifting the piece up and around his neck to check it out, flames still burning away, as Sam arrives.

“Danny why did I get a soundless thumping call and why is this entire area on fire?”.

So Dash did a pretty okay-ish job, like yes all the staples are almost all uneven and less than straight, some aren’t in properly and one looks like it got bent to fuck. But his skin is knitting itself back together.

Danny turning around to wave at Sam gets him an instant gasp of horror. “Oh fucking zone, what happened!”.

Danny holds up a finger, “so I can survive decapitation and Dash know’s how to use power tools”, and floats himself around her enough for her to look at his neck, even she’s being leery about touching it or moving his head around. At least his vocal cords have put themselves back together, even if it sounds like he’s eaten an entire box of nails.

“Damn your voice sounds like shit”, she winces, poking one of the staples which Danny absolutely twitches in a bit of discomfort from. Okay so this shit was gonna hurt like a bitch when he changes back, ugh. Her frowning and digging in her pocket, “okay sit down, I’m at least attempting to straighten this shit out. I’m not taking out the staples, it’s healed some so it’ll do less damage to just let your body dissolve the metal”.

“Yeah he also drilled fucking hardware brackets into my spine”.

“Why would let him use that!”.

“I couldn’t see or hear or speak! Sam! I couldn’t tell who it even was that was trying to give me a patch up!”.

Sam rubs her temples sighing, pointing at the ground which fine Danny floats back down towards. At least the flames are dying out, yay for not leaving a crime scene level of ectoplasmic mess that could be traced back to him! Her getting to work immediately, “geez he pulled your skin too tight in some spots and not tight enough in others. Some spots aren’t even lined up well!”.

“Sam give the guy a break, he was terrified! And remotely normal people do not know how to put skin back together unless they’re literally doctors”.

“Yeah well this is going to heal really nasty, it’s already healed nasty”, she points at his face with a slightly ectoplasm stained finger, “and you aren’t missing any jumpsuit meaning unless you feel like adding a choker to your costume you can’t cover this up”.

He was unfortunately aware of that. As Phantom it wasn’t… too big of a deal. It would just raise questions about ghosts being able to get scars and how he got it and if he had more. Zone his folks might even rework some of their research over this. But… it would make people worry and he didn’t want that. “Considering the choker wouldn’t even be part of my actual form, I’d just wind up wrecking it. But-”.

She huffs, unclipping her own choker and holding it in front of his face, “you better have been about to say ‘but I should at least cover it up while it’s healing’ Danny. I have a million of these things, go ahead and destroy a few”; she drops it on his lap and continues moving his floating ass around to stitch between the staples.

Danny sighs to himself, careful not to swallow or move his Adam’s apple too much, “fine, but I’m just going to wear turtlenecks as Fenton, a chokers a little too attention drawing when I don’t normally wear that shit”.

She just scoffs as she continues her work.

Would a turtle neck hide this shit? Not if anyone remotely looked at him with any degree of attention even slightly. Like a child wouldn’t notice purely by being a lot smaller than him but that’s it. Unfortunately a choker or handkerchief will just make people more likely to look at his neck, and bandages would be even worse. Aka he doesn’t really have any options here.

Sam nodding and leaning back, “okay, you’re good. This is a seriously messed up injury though, you caught the ghost who did this? It was a ghost right?”.

Danny blushes immediately, “it was a ghost yeah, and ugh, I’m never living this down”, sighing into a hand and trying to ignore the way the staples pull, “it was fucking Boxy”. She laughs scandalised at him. Danny groaning more, “yeah yeah laugh it up. He actually scared himself”. She laughs even more and fine he joins in a little too. Fuck today so much.

…

After a bit she pokes his floating ass, “you should change back, so you get over the pain before we get you home and in bed. Your parents are still doing late night hunts right?”.

Danny sighs, putting his feet on the ground and nodding, “unfortunately, yeah”, moving to rub his neck before remembering that would be a fucking dumb idea and scratching his hair instead, his head felt unpleasantly fresh, “sure it means I don’t have to deal with their questioning but ugh”. They would somehow manage to get themselves involved in one of his late night ghost fights and shoot at him, it was annoying and every time it happened whatever ghost he was fighting legit debated throwing hands with his parents for real. Some purely because the Fenton’s shot first, others because they were interrupting their chosen ‘Phantom fist-a-cuffs’ time, others because they knew Phantom wouldn’t do it himself.

Anyway.

Human time.

Ha. This was gonna suck. Sure not as much as that time Tuck had to haphazardly shove his organs back inside him and Danny had to change back before said organs could reorganise themselves, but still. He cringes his whole face up in anticipation as he lets the change flow over him. “ANCIENTS FUCK!”, bending over, one hand on a now shaking knee, and the other tenderly over the front of his neck.

Ow.

Holy shit.

Fucking Hell he is never getting decapitated again. Oh Ancients.

He can taste metal inside his throat and he can’t tell if that’s blood or actual literal metal. The spine bolts are awful actually, he should not have let Dash do that. Oh he is regretting everything so much. “FUCK! OW! WHY DID I LET HIM DO THAT!”.

Sam pats his back as he drops his hand from his neck, touching would only make it worse, both hands on his knees and wheezing now. His neck was on fire and extremely cold all at once and it was fucking stupid and he hated it. He can feel his ecto attacking the metal, it burned more than he’d like. Swallowing, “oh that was such a bad idea”, he is not eating anything for a while. Pushing himself to stand up and blinking tears out of his eyes, “I, ow, am phasing all my food directly into my stomach for a while. Oh zone, this sucks”.

San pats his back again, “figured. Definitely no swallowing utensils for you for a bit”.

“Sam, if a fork prong got caught on or nicked the stupid bolts, which some are definitely partly inside my throat and bolted back to my spine, I will scream immediately”. Zone he would have screamed from changing back if he hadn’t been prepared for it to hurt like a son of a bitch.

She nods, “and I wouldn’t blame you”, scowling, “I still can’t believe you let Dash drill fucking Home Depot bolts into your neck. You know how dirty those things probably were? Ugh. Now stand still, you’re leaking”.

Danny has to clench his fists something fierce, fingernails digging into the palms of his hands, to keep from flinching as she wipes a cloth around his neck. Rolling his eyes at her whipping the side of his mouth too with a stupid smirk. “How bad does it look?”; he does not feel like going through the effort and pain of trying to use that bit of metal to look it over again.

“Bad. Danny. Gnarly and jagged. The staples stick out really harshly”, frowning and crossing her eyes as they cautiously and carefully make their way out from behind/around the grocery store which was thankfully closed. “When I stitch you up I always try to make it blend smoothly with your skin as much as possible, Dash was definitely not thinking about that, which fine I can’t blame him for, but still”, grimacing, “you better be really careful about what turtlenecks you wear, otherwise the staples are going to catch on the fabric”.

Danny full body winces, oh zone that would suck. He might maybe be able to resist screaming at that but he’ll definitely at least suck in a really ragged breath and curl in on himself. He was used to pain but still; he doesn’t even want to move his head or neck around. And of course his voice still sounded like hot garbage but considering the bolt attaching the inside of his throat to his spine that made sense. He really wishes Dash had positioned that one bracket and set of bolts differently. He can absolutely feel the metal bar being squished between his throat and spine. Ugh.

Shaking his head as they finally make their way back to FentonWorks. Sam giving him another pat, “you good to see yourself to bed or am I helping the injured baby”. 

Danny snorts, “oh shove it”, chuckling, “I can handle my self but I am absolutely taking the fuzzy blanket off of my bed because I do not want to get woken up by my bed ripping out a staple”. 

“Smart choice”.

She heads off with a simple wave and chuckle at Danny sticking out his tongue, at least he had motor control of said tongue again. Okay, now get lunch and go to bed before his parents possibly show up. 

He grabs out the left over chilli, that is thankfully not sentient or moldy, and phases it into his stomach. Was it going to take a bit to digest? Yes, obviously. But he was absolutely not chewing this shit and swallowing it. He’s had enough unintentional pain for one day that he absolutely does not feel up to adding in any intentional pain. 

The fluffy blanket that was super comfortable especially when his muscles were all achey, gets torn off and left on the floor in a heap. His floor isn’t exactly ‘clean’ but that doesn’t really matter to his sorry ass; he is going the fuck to sleep. 

“Nocturne bless this fucking bed”. 

Chap. 2:

The Un-hide-able Kind Of Damage

Did Danny sleep the whole night away? Obviously not. That never fucking happens. But no one serious showed up and every single one that showed up took one look at his neck and noped out. Apparently there was a bit of a code to not mess with Phantom if he was rocking some injury that was really fucked up. It’s didn’t help that it looked gnarly regardless of form... the choker barely helped and he forgot it almost every time. 

But he managed to make it to morning without further neck or throat damage. He also did not see any online photos or videos of the damage, so far so good. 

He absolutely meticulously inspects his turtleneck options for loose thread or snaggy material. He’s left with a total of three wearable sweaters, not great but not, you know, bad either. The one he goes with is a dark red, in case he bleeds a little, and has a burning Christmas’s tree on it, because anytime is the right time to say fuck you to Christmas. Dumbass holiday, that one. He phases the thing on because he is not dealing with trying to get his head and thusly neck through the long turtleneck part, shit’s painful enough as it is. Him fiddling with the collar in the mirror, the wound is still jagged enough that the fabric brushing against the edges sends twinges of pain up and down his neck. It’s not great. Not at all. Plus, it covers the wound about as well as he expected it to; if anyone one stares or specifically looks at his neck then he’s screwed. 

He’s seriously tempted to just... not go to school. Zone spending the day laying in the park would be better. But the lasts thing he needs is the school calling his parents and them wanting to have a talk with him. Or everything forbid he runs into them while he’s supposed to be in class. Even if he was still getting along with them, which he’s not going to be anytime soon, he wouldn’t want them around him to possibly notice he’s injured. 

Meaning school pretty much has to happen. Sighing to himself and moving down the stairs gingerly enough to not make his sweater move, heading out to go suffer through wildly unnecessary schooling. 

…

He waves at Sam and Tuck, they’re huddled by his locker, man does he ever love them. Tuck looks so worried at him, “show me immediately. What the hell, man”. 

Danny smirking and gingerly pulling out and down his sweater, wincing a little from the pressure against the back of his neck, “Sam told you?”.

Tuck’s entire face cringes up, “damn that’s hardcore, did you actually thank Dash for doing that to your poor neck”. 

Danny letting go of his sweater and bopping the techno geek on the head, “he literally reattached my head, of course I did”, shrugging, “sure the way he did it is a little shit and a pain in the ass but at least I have a head again”. 

Both of them roll their eyes at him but they’re smiling so it’s pretty clear it’s all in good fun and jest. Tuck poking him, “oh and we’ve already agreed that we’re taking your notes because you absolutely shouldn’t be lifting and lowering you head constantly for hours. You should be attempting to heal”.

“Pfft, since when do I go out of my way specifically for healing but I’m lazy and you guys know that, meaning you know I’m not gonna say no”. 

All three chuckling as him and Tuck head to their first class, Sam going her own way after a bit. 

Danny makes it though exactly twenty three minutes of class before his ghost sense goes off. At least the ice going up his throat felt faintly soothing, as he shoots his arm up, “bathroom”, and leaves without being given the go ahead. No one ever tried to stop him anymore, all he would get was annoyed glares or sad ones in Lancer’s case.

Pulling into the bathroom and changing, relishing the lack of pain for a bit before zipping up invisibly through the ceiling; he’s got a ghost to track down. 

He has absolutely no issue finding the ghost. Why? 

Because he immediately head butted a motorcycle the second his head exited the fucking roof top.

His poor neck. Zone. Why him? 

Danny floating backwards, rubbing his head and grumbling, “Johnny? What the hell, man?”. 

“Oh damn you really did get decapitated, huh?”. 

“The fuck you think? Duh”, sighing and crossing his arms at the ghost, “did you just show up to see for yourself?”. He’s going to be a little pissed if that’s the case. He can do without the ghosts doing ‘wellness checks’ on him anymore than certain ones already did. 

Johnny snorts, “surprised it didn’t wind up mounted on a wall”. 

To be fair, that’s kinda what Danny himself thought would be what happened if he ever did lose his damn head, but that was mostly because of Skulker being the only one that usually tried to ‘relive’ him of his head. Scoffing, “as if I’d ever let Skulker’s sorry ass take my freaking head. Now are you gonna leave peacefully or are you gonna start doing donuts on the rooftop?”. 

“That second one sounds pretty solid but I don’t feel like dealing with your head falling back off because that looks like a damn hack job”.

“Hey! You try fixing anything while blind, deaf, and unable to taste or smell!”.

“Damn”. 

Danny chuckling, “I know, right? Now you leaving or?”, and making shooing motions. 

Johnny smirks, revving his engine. Danny sighing mentally because he knows that translates to ‘let’s play tag, mother fucker’. Johnny shoots off with a, “depends if you can catch me, Phantom”. Typical.

“Damn it, Johnny!”. And now Danny’s off chasing Johnny and his stupid motorcycle. He rarely actually tries to shoot the guy because it feels like a dick move when all the guy generally does is street race and drive on roofs. Hell some of the twenty-something’s actually adored the biker and would race him; which fine Danny let slide because he thought it was a nice human/ghost bonding experience even if it was technically a crime. But hey, Danny’s existence was technically a crime too so why should he care anyways? 

Plus, if he’s being honest, chase racing him was kinda fun, felt a little more like being his actual age again. It’s was practically play for him, which was slightly sad, but they only make it a few streets down and destroy one streetlight before Danny’s got Johnny souped. Danny flipping the thermos in the air a little sillily.

“Oh zone! are you okay!”.

Danny jerks in the air and looks somewhat down at the person that looked to be having tea on their balcony. “Yes, worry not citizen”.

Fuck Danny’s luck, the guy points at his own neck, “uh, you sure about that?”.

Crap. What should he say? “Worry not, it’s not fresh and is healing perfectly fine”. Danny salutes and basically flees the conversation. Especially since he heard the guy whisper about how ‘holy shit ghosts can get actual long term injuries???’. Not good.

He basically speed walks to his home ec class with Sam. Poking her a little hard and trying to ignore the stupid pain in his throat and the fact that he’s pretty sure headbutting a motorcycle bent on of the brackets Dash drilled to goddamn his neck, “a civilian noticed”.

“Well shit. Not surprised but still”, Sam shrugs, “well Tucker’s got any mentions of you set up to ping him so we’ll see if this person keeps things to themselves or not”.

After all, there really wasn’t much else any of them could do.

…

Does he get a ping from Tuck? Absolutely. It takes all of eight minutes. Danny groaning to himself, he’d thump his head on the table but that would probably hurt something fierce.

Treft26fu: @ whoever DECAPITAED Phantom, you suck and he is weirdly okay with it

Treft26fu: or maybe whoever just wrapped a cord around his neck and TRIED to decapitate him

Treft26fu: anyway this just in ghosts can get proper people like injuries

The guy goes on a tangent for a while actually. Tuck’s managed to actually block the comments from being visible to anyone, thank fuck. Tuck throwing a proper text his way.

Geek: what do you want me to do if he notices no one’s responding to his comments?

Danny humming to himself, the vibrations down his throat aren’t great but aren’t bad either. Well most people would be annoyed if they found out Phantom was silencing them or someone else.

Ghost: pretend to be the G.I.W. silencing people from releasing ghosts are sentient feeling beings

Geek: *snort* nice. So that’s ’I’ll take anti-G.I.W. propaganda for $100’.

Ghost: I’ll take subtle beginning of an uprising for $200

Geek: creating deepfakes in 3… 2.. 1.

Danny just rolls his eyes at the guy not responding after that. Mrs. Canecher snapping, “eyes up here, Fenton”, startling him a little and making him jerk; more than a few people laugh at him. Jerks.

At least he makes it through the rest of his class, goddamn.

Of course that’s exactly when shit goes south. In the form of one Dash Baxter… again kinda. Dash bodily shouldering him into the wall as soon as Danny makes it out of the classroom. And of course Danny winces from that, because getting bashed into a wall is kind of jarring to the fucking bolts and staples in his fucking neck, thank you very much Dash.

Dash’s sneer is practically a growl, even if his eyes don’t really look to be in it, “aw look at little pathetic Fen-tiny flinching from a wall. How ‘bout I give you a real reason to flinch from me”.

Dash grabbing his sweater collar and yanking him up off the ground at the same time as both Danny and Sam snap, “don’t!”.

Dash of course scoffs at their attempt to stop him, sneering down at Danny and ramming him into the wall. Danny closing an eye, wincing, and hissing in pain and frustration. Why did Dash have to be such a fucking jerk all the time? And oh great it feels like that bent bit of metal bracket is being pressed into a fucking vein or something since a quarter of his neck is going numb and fuzzy. Fucking ow. He can feel some portions of nails getting pushed deeper into his skin and blood welling up around them. Wheezing, “put me, down, Dash”; wow his voice sounded extra shit. Like he’d gone and rubbed sand paper on all the nail cuts.

Then Sam, his boss ass him-damned friend, has her boot off and wielded in record time, fully prepared to beat Dash with it regardless of Danny making it very clear he doesn’t want his friends doing that shit to Dash or any other bullies for his sake. He’d rather himself be bullied than anyone weaker/more fragile. Hopefully the fact that she’s doing that when she normally doesn’t is enough to make Dash realise that she’s serious and he needs to fuck off.

Course Dash doesn’t even seem to notice, instead glaring down at a glaring Danny. Which at first makes Danny think this is some ‘dominance’ crap where Dash is just trying to get him ‘scared’ and get him to ‘back down’ and act meek. But a second or two going by and Dash’s glare looking progressively more horrified, gets Danny to actually slap Dash’s wrist off of him.

Shit.

Okay.

Flee?

Flee.

The second Danny’s feet are back on the ground he grabs Sam’s wrist and books it; Dash too stunned to do anything till Danny’s got them around a corner. Danny turning the two of them invisible immediately so he can tenderly put a few fingers up to his throat and wheezing in pain.

Sam whispering, “you good”. Danny shaking his head, blinking away a bit of tearing, and whispering back, “honestly no. He’s, he’s, probably, the worst, person to, notice, this”.

“Considering it’s his handy work?”.

Danny winces a little, nodding slightly and being mildly pissed at the way that pulls on the staples.

Both stilling and staring when Dash, still looking a little horrified, appears around the corner and looks around, him frowning in confusion, “what? Where?”. When he seems sold on currently being alone he stares at the ground, then at his slightly shaking hands, and mutters, “am I just hallucinating now?”, and actually curls in on himself a little as he walks off quickly.

Great. Now Danny feels bad. He’s not trying to make Dash question his own sanity! Ugh. And then Danny feels something hard and definitely metal drop in his throat, instantly sending him into a coughing fit, and practically collapsing to the floor in pain; he absolutely drops the invisibility without really paying any attention to having done so. Sam following him down to ground, worried.

Of course all this results in Dash basically rushing back to see Danny kneeling on the ground, one hand on his throat and another on the ground, while Sam is rubbing his back and glaring bloody murder at the returning jock.

Danny coughs up the end of one of the fucking bolts, it clinking on the ground is extremely loud and it fucking rolls away because of course it does, rolls away right into Dash’s shoe. The clink of it falling over feels like a thunderclap while Danny’s still wheezing and screwing his face up in pain.

At least no one’s in the hallway now, having moved quickly off to their classes the second Sam started actually threatening Dash with her boot; her wrath was well-feared, good. She’d be proud, if Danny wasn’t currently groaning into the floor.

Danny lifting up his head enough to eye Dash staring down at the bolt end touching his foot, Danny deciding fuck it and flopping onto his back on the ground with a wet cough and wince. Sam glancing down at him, “you going to just lay there?”, then going back to staring at Dash.

Danny groans again, absolutely crying a little, “I, am ’ever, lettin’, ‘one bolt, my fuckin’, ’eck, agin”.

Dash fucking squeaks of all things and shuffles over to stare down at Danny, cautiously avoiding the glaring goth. Danny glares at Dash without much feeling, “what? Go’, any ‘ore insuls, to ‘row, my ‘ay?”, coughing wetly and wiping at his mouth with a sleeve, careful not to jostle his head, “or ‘eel, like tossin’, e ‘round, ‘ore?”.

Dash blinks harshly and speaks again, “Phantom? You… coughed up a bolt end”, the guy is fiddling with the damn corroded off bolt end, the green burning on it is very stark. Why the fuck was the guy fiddling with that thing? Ugh.

Sam jerking out a hand, glaring at the jock, “give it and go away”.

“What? I- no! Screw off Manson!”. Ah Dash sounds slightly more normal now. Still freaked but not weirdly flat anymore.

Danny snickers, wincing from his throats bullshit, “I ‘ean, ur the one, eno ‘rewed my, ‘roat”.

Sam groans immediately at him, “goddamn it, Danny”.

Even Dash winces down at him, “Zone fuck, holy shit, you’re… Phantom?”, the guy drops the bolt and runs his hands through his hair, “oh zone I reattached Fenton’s head, zone”. Sam running after the rolling bolt, “damn you too, Dash”. Danny has faith she’ll get it before it causes any issues. Dash is busy pacing in circles currently so…

Yeah. Not helpful.

Fuck his neck felt kinda totally raw in spots and based on the wetness on the back of his neck and head he’s gonna guess he’s making a bit of a puddle of blood. Fun. Ow. Wheezing, “this, this is, ‘finitly the ‘econd, wors’ ‘jury, I’ve had”. He can feel one of the holes in his throat sliding back and forth across the length of the bolt when he talks or swallows. This is hell a little bit.

Dash stops and crouches down on his ankles near Danny’s head staring at him but only kinda seeing him, “second? Worst?”, sputtering, “decapitation? Is second place? What? And I’m? Staring down at Phantom?”, blinking harshly, “Fenton’s-your Phantom?”.

Sam comes back and smacks Dash over the head, “you better keep that to yourself, jackass, now help me move Danny to a bathroom or else”, and grabs one of Danny’s arm, Danny just smacking her with the other as a way to give it over. At least Dash jerks up harshly and does grab his ankles, because yeah Danny’s not standing up right now, not a chance. Dash muttering, “never met your heroes, you might have to put their head back on and find out they’ve been letting you beat them up”.

Danny, with his head resting on one arm so he doesn’t have to strain his -very injured and still stitching itself back together- neck muscles to hold his head up, “gla’ ta see yur handlin’ tis well”. As it is, all this being moved crap is making him feel like one of the staples has popped out partly and is just swinging around tugging on bits of still attached skin.

“Danny, shut up before you jack your throat up even more”. Danny huffing an extremely cold breath at her for that. Her glaring down at him, “jerk”, he can tell her hearts not really in the insult though which was absolutely because he was being an ass purely because his throat felt like it was trying to rekill him and AND now someone has basically figured his shit out. Ugh.

At least they make it into the bathroom, without anyone noticing. Of course the door swings back open the second it closes though, it’s Tuck thank everything; meanwhile Sam vaguely gently puts Danny’s arms, and thus head and neck and upper back, down. Sam and Tuck rounding on Dash who’s still holding Danny’s ankles up for some dumb reason, they point aggressively at the jock, growling, “you”.

Danny wheezing from his less than comfortable position only halfway laying on the floor, “‘ash, if ya ‘on’t, put me ‘own, Imma, ‘ick ya”. Dash doesn’t even react to Sam’s and Tuck’s fingers pointing in his face so Danny absolutely intangibly frees an ankle from the guys hand and kicks him one in the chin; Dash sputtering and dropping Danny’s other ankle immediately.

At least he’s now back entirely on the ground, the nice cold sweet ground. The faint metallic plink on the ground absolutely means he definitely lost a staple though, way too quiet to have been a whole ass bolt; plus he’s pretty sure there’d have to be a big gapping hole for one of those to actually fall through a hole in his skin then onto the floor. The plink also getting Tuck’s attention, him lifting Danny’s head up gingerly and pocketing the kinda eroded staple, Danny doesn’t even look at him, “today is ‘hit”.

Tuck ruffles his hair quickly, “and you sound like shit”, before standing back up and crossing his arms at Dash.

“Ya rye ahvin’ a suck in’ ‘roat wound”.

Sam sighs, explaining to Tuck for Danny, “he coughed up a bolt end and even though I told him to stop talking he won’t shut up”, glaring at Dash more aggressively, “so?”. While Tuck gives Danny a chastising, “dude”. Danny just shrugging his shoulders, wincing at the neck movement, and going back to staring emptily at the bathroom ceiling.

He really shouldn’t have come to school. Like at all. Absolutely terrible decision. Stupid him. Stupid stupid him. Ugh.

Dash’s swallow is loud and makes Danny internally cringe at how much swallowing that aggressively would hurt right now. “So the thing I gave myself a massive hangover over has come back to haunt me on Fenton’s neck, what the fuck”.

Danny blinks, wheezing instead of chuckling, “ah. Ya ‘ctually raid-ed, folk’ lior’ cabnet?”.

Sam and Tuck giving him judgemental looks, while Dash throws his hands out baffled, “I spent an hour shaking and stapling my heroes neck what of course I did-what-oh-my-zone-this-is-a-nightmare”, and starts pacing in circles again.

Tuck chuckles though, eyeing the jock, “are you saying that because Phantom’s Fenton or because of having to deal with a horrific injury”.

“Both!”, Dash stops and gestures aggressively at the geek, “both”, sticking both arms down at Danny, “how even? Zone fuck did your parents experiment on you or something?”, screwing up his face and seemingly speaking more so to himself, “can I get away with beating the Fenton’s up?”.

Danny snorts, wincing, “ow fuck. Naw, my ‘ad, will ‘reak you, ‘ike a ‘ooth-ick, ‘ash”.

“That doesn’t mean he will!”, shaking his arms at Danny, “you didn’t”,

Sam scowls down at Danny, “Danny, shut. Up”, then walking closer to Dash and pointing a finger right in Dash’s face, “one, Danny will be mad if you try to fight his dad. Two, he’ll stop you and fuck his throat up more anyways. Three, it was an accident that you have no damn right to know anything about you asshat. Four-”, signing and dropping her hand, “-my opinion of you just, unfortunately, went up a notch”.

Danny blinking and turning his head, ow, enough to look at her, “oily ‘hit”,

“Shut. Up”.

Danny huffs at her, pushing himself to sit upright with some effort, pointing at Dash then shrugging and dropping his hand.

Dash blinks, “how are you so calm if you’re not dead”.

Tuck groaning, “oh he is dead, just not entirely”.

“That makes zero sense, loser”.

Danny is having none of that, he lifts a hand up again and ecto-blasts the bathroom stall next to Dash’s head. Dash jumps, squeaks, and slowly looks to stare at Danny wide-eyed. Danny quirking an eyebrow, “bad”.

“I- um- okay?”, Dash still sounds squeaky, looking at Sam and Tuck, “holy shit you’re sidekicks”.

For once both Sam and Tuck facepalm for a reason other than Danny being a dumbass. Tuck laughing while Sam sighs, “yes, Dash, obviously”, gesturing at Danny who grins dumbly, “you really think we’d let this dumbass do shit on his own? He’d do something stupider than he usually does”, grimacing at Danny, “Danny, you’re leaking again”.

This time it’s Tuck sighing and grabbing some paper towel to clean Danny’s throat and mouth off. Danny’s almost tempted to wheeze really hard to maybe get blood splattered around but that would be really dumb and really painful for no good fucking reason. He just really hates today and his stupid body right now. Grinning instead, “‘ink ya can un’end a bracke’? Kinda ‘ill ’on’t have feelin’ in ‘art of mi ‘eck”.

Tuck glares at him, “what”, sighing disbelievingly, “you shoulda mentioned that immediately, man. Why do you do this shit to us and yourself”.

Dash flinching, “did I mess up?”, while Tuck moves around to where Danny’s tapping his neck. Danny shrugging, “I ‘ean, num’ ‘eans naw pain, sew”, and shrugs. And sure, part of his mouth was also numb which wasn’t great but hey at least the pain is mostly only radiating from other sections of his neck, giving him one little area of relief.

Sam gestures at Danny though still staring at Dash, “see what I mean. A Dumbass”.

Dash actually nods agreeingly, jerk, before backing up a step or two when Tuck pulls out his personal media kit and one of those sharp art knives from inside, tweezers too but that was probably less startling to the jock. “Going to have to rip a few out, man. And probably cut some stuff”. Him yanking out a staple actually takes so much effort Tuck falls on his back.

Danny cringing, ow, “my ‘ody sure ha’ attichme’ isdues, huh?”. Tuck pushing himself up and clamping down on another staple, “you suck. Sam you wanna help instead of glaring Dash out of existence?”.

The goth huffs, points aggressively at Dash, “you. Stay”, before moving over and grabbing the wannabe scalpel; Danny gripping his knees at the almost feeling of sharp metal on skin.

Oh great it kinda looks like Dash is shaking a bit again. Lovely. But the guy shakes himself off somewhat and actually comes over to help, sorta help at least, too. Grabbing Danny’s shoulders to, Danny guesses, keep him steady.

Danny absolutely feels the second Sam, or Tuck he’s not looking, gets the metal unbent. Him jerking forward, a hand to his neck and headbutting Dash’s chest, “ow! Fuck! Shit! Agh!”. Okay note to self, no pain for a while thanks to numbness equals sudden intense pain when numbness goes goodbye bye. Ow. Why is he so stupid? And Dash is so startled he doesn’t even move or do anything more than huff like he just got the wind knocked out of him which he probably did; Dash falling on his ass seconds later, “shit Fenton! Ow!”.

Sam moving quickly to stitch up the hole she had to cut in him to get good enough access to fix his shit, “stay still, your lucky you didn’t rebend the thing”, grumbling to herself, “at least that jerk bought solid brackets”.

Dash wheezing a little and rubbing his chest, “I wasn’t going to patch freaking Phantom up with cheap shit he’d break in a fight”.

Tuck getting up to clean things, and himself, off in the sink, “that’s actually smart, congrats”, eyeing Sam and Danny, “how’d it get bent anyways”.

Sam growling without looking away from the work she’s almost done, “Dash here slammed him into a wall”.

Danny, kinda staring at Dash as something to do and trying to ignore the pain and pulsing, “actulie I head’utted Jon’s ‘ike”,

“Why would you do that!”.

“Acci’en’! Gosh!”.

Sam huffing, “well the wall didn’t help”, then looking at Dash as she cleans her own hands, “like I said, he’s a dumbass”.

Dash nods slowly, “yeah”, looking down at Danny, who’s just sitting on the ground slightly curled in on himself, “is, are you gonna be good? And why did this hurt but not me drilling your spine?”.

Tuck actually gives Dash a supportive backhanded swat on the arm, grinning, “don’t worry about it, he heals like a beast. Also, he doesn’t feel pain as Phantom”.

Danny straightening out some and stretching, wincing at the throat hole moving over the exposed bolt again, “a ‘essing and curs’”, and promptly coughing again, spitting up metal bits, at least he caught all the shreds and corroded bits in his hand this time. Grimacing at the mess of spit, blood, and metal; getting up with a stagger to wash his hand off, “ew”.

Dash gestures aggressively at Danny as Danny turns around to eye him, “I wouldn’t call that ‘healing’ at all!”.

“Dude, ya re-atta-ed mi ‘ead! Imma ‘ay Imma doin’ a damn ‘ood job”. Oh hey, it’s slightly easier to talk now, cool. It feels like that one hole is closing up now, that musta been where the metal he was just coughing up came from.

Dash opens and closes his mouth, humming and shrugging after a beat, “yeah I guess that would kill most people, huh”. Danny wheeze laughing as Sam and Tuck shout, “YES!”, at that.

No one says anything for a bit until Danny clears his throat, which was dumb to do, and winces. At least one throat hole is gone now, he is so not going to class until he apparently coughs up the other bolt end. “Okay. So. We ‘ood?”.

Tuck grinning at Danny, “well you sound slightly better”.

Danny shrugging, “bye bye ‘aping throat wound”. Tuck gives him a thumbs up like a real friend. Then, of course, he feels the other bolt end inside his throat fall, fuck. That of course causes another coughing fit that sends him to the ground again, Tuck and Sam rushing over to pat his back hard till the damn bolt gets coughed up. Danny just groaning and rolling to lay on his back again, “mevar ‘ind”.

Dash wheezes, “I- um, we’re good. Yeah we’re good. But if I ever run up on an injured Phantom I’m calling your idiot friends since I clearly suck at it”,

Tuck waving Dash off, “Dash, none of us would have known what to do with a decapitation. That was a first for Danny-dude”.

“Yay ‘or mi”, Danny shaking away a few tears, man his body was an asshole. Sitting up enough to look at Dash more properly, “ya ‘id ‘ood”.

Sam snapping, “no he did not!”.

Danny pointing aggressively at her,“tis ’raight an’ ha-n’t fallen oof”.

“That doesn’t mean much”.

“Be ‘orse it I ‘ried to mi ‘elf!”.

“Your head would be backwards and upside down somehow if you did it yourself, moron”,

Danny flips her off. Dash actually chuckles though, “this is the weirdest conversation I’ve ever been in, wow”, then collapsing against a bathroom stall, which causes the doors to open, which results in Dash falling backward with a yelp and fucking knocking himself out with the toilet.

You.. you gotta be kidding? Seriously? Danny blinks, “‘eri-yous-lie?”. Sam actually bursts out laughing while Tuck runs over to help get Dash out of the stall, him snapping, “don’t you even try to think about helping, Danny”.

“Eh I ‘ink I ‘elped enou’ bi ‘ockin’ ‘im out”.

“No”.

“Yes”.

Sam and Tuck glare at each other before laughing, all three of them winding up on the floor laughing, or wheezing in Danny’s case. Dash groaning from the floor a few seconds later, “did I just get knocked out by a toilet?”.

Sam snorts, smirk showing in her voice, “yup”.

“That’s really hilarious actually”, Dash shakes his head, “if I wasn’t probably high on Advil my head would kill me”.

“Hey, at ‘east ‘vil actu-eel ‘orks on ya”.

Dash snorts, “that’s rough man”.

“Eel mi ‘out it”.

“I have no idea what you just said”.

“Piss oof”.

Danny and Tuck pushing themselves to sit up, meaning that now everyone’s basically just sitting in a sorta circle in a men’s bathroom. Cool. Man his throat is killing him though. The fresh stitches on the back left side of his neck stand out in the swath of pain pretty noticeably, why? Because they hurt less. A staple gun was never, ever, getting added to the medi kits; Ancients.

Tuck eyeing Dash, “so, are you actually going to keep your mouth shut about this? About finding out your idols secret identity?”.

Dash puts up his hands, “I’m not Wes, I’m not that stupid”, flushing a little, “but I definitely did tell Kwan about, uh”, gesturing awkwardly at Danny, “patching you? up? Yeah”.

Danny shrugs, trying not to move his neck with the motion, it kinda works, “eh, figs”.

Tuck chuckling and shaking his head, “he means ‘figures’, which yeah even Sam can’t blame you for venting to your best friend, that would be a dick move. Right Sam”.

Sam scowls, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms, before sighing, “fine. It really would be”. Danny giving her and the jock thumbs up, because yeah, talking was not helping his healing ass like at all.

Dash chuckles awkwardly, “yeah, Kwan’s the best”.

Sam sighing, “Kwan will also realise Danny’s Phantom if he sees”, rubbing her temples, “meaning we still have a jock to keep an eye out for”.

Absently, Danny knows it would be a massive dick move to force Dash to keep this from his best friend. Granted Sam and Tuck might also beat him if he gives the jock the go ahead to tell Kwan. But unfortunately Dash continues, “and he did tell Star, who told Paulina, who, uh, told all the cheerleaders, who probably told everyone”.

Sam glares murderously at Dash then Danny, “I’m going to kill him”.

Danny pouting, “‘am, it is ‘ery rude ta ‘reaten ta kill some-on in ‘ront of a ‘hos’”; and then spits up some metal and just rubs it on his pants, he’ll wash them later maybe. All three grimace at him. Whatever.

“Um, let me point out that they did tell everyone and I did not expect to witness hardcore medical drama and hear mind breaking info when I decided to take a smoke break inside for a change. Hi”.

All four jerk and slowly look at the guy peaking out from a slightly open bathroom stall door. Well. Damn it. Screw his existence entirely. Dash and Sam getting up instantly and both looking ready to beat this guy into silence for Danny’s sake. Aw, they’re bonding over murderous intent, how utterly evil and adorable. Meanwhile, Danny decided fuck it and grabs out his phone. Moving to the Amity Teens chat:

thealivedanny: those whose eyes see have mouths that don’t move

Haleykaley: that’s ominous hot shit

Bailnwail: has Fentons phone been possessed again?

Tuck’s phone pings, “Danny… why did my phone just ping the sound it does when you message a public chat?”.

“Eye do ya hav’ a ‘iose spec-fy for mi?”.

“I’ve had one ever since someone accidentally messaged the very public gaming chat a death threat meant for Vlad and a picture of your broken arm with exposed bone”, Tuck glancing at his phone, “ah you’re just terrorising the masses, I see”.

The guy comes out of the bathroom stall entirely, hands up at the goth and jock, “hey I ain’t my fault you guys didn’t do a sweep of the place before starting your soap opera medical drama”.

Danny holding up a finger, “echly it’s a super-atura drame”.

“Debatable”, the guy clears his throat, “look it doesn’t really look like there’s any point in silence here but I ain’t no fucking punk ass snitch”, dropping his hands and shrugging, “just ignore me stealing baby formula for my kid brother and we good”.

Danny pushing himself to stand up, his throat felt less hole filled now, “man, I’a eel tha’ shit fer ya”. Then glancing at his phone when it pings, it’s freaking Dash in the teen chat room.

Football king: those whose eyes see have mouths that don’t move

Danny looking at the jock with a quirked eyebrow, said jock gives him a slightly too wide-eyed thumbs up, “you, uh, seem to have this covered so I’m going to go drown myself-”.

“Didn’ ta toile do tha’ ger ya already?”.

“In Advil, Fen-taco or Danny, whatever”.

Danny snorts, wincing a little, “eh don’ ‘ange. An’ ‘on’t haveta craw to hospit”.

“Screw you, oh this is stupid”, Dash scowling, “and like the guy who crawled into a refrigerator should have any say”.

Tuck eyeing Danny, “oh you told him your stupid rum cereal story?”.

“He ‘ad plans ta get ‘runk, it wah apple-cable!”:

The dude wheeze laughs, “fucking ‘apple cable’, nice”. Danny absolutely flips him off, but the guy smiles, “nice to know our little hero is a dumbass”.

Sam eyes him and decides he passes whatever mental test she was giving him, “yeah. Yeah he is”.

Danny rolling his eyes and looking at his phone, at least nine more people have posted the same ‘those whose eyes see have mouths that don’t move’ message. Well shit. Okay. Well… at least Danny’s got a clue for how many people have seen and just fucking put two and two together to get four. Wes also threw in a ‘those whose eyes see have mouths that do move’, because he’s an ass. Fucking Wes, goddamn. No chill. At least a ton of people respond back either insulting or threatening Wes. Good. And Dash also leaving shaking his head is probably good too.

The guy eyes them before jabbing a thumb towards the bathroom stall he came out of, “am I cool to finish my cigarette? Since I put that shit out as soon as you guys hauled ass in here?”.

Sam sighing, her, Tuck, and Danny all exchanging shrugs before Sam gives the guy a go ahead, “sure fine, whatever. But yeah, that snitches get stitches and wind up in ditches thing can absolutely be very literal”.

“Tell that to the whole school then”.

“I will”. Sam basically grabs Tuck and Danny and drags them out of the bathroom. Her grumbling at Tuck as she continues dragging them, likely to their next class, “how bad is it”.

Tuck speaking while scrolling through his phone, “bad, there’s really no way to keep a cap on this”.

Danny hums, which doesn’t hurt nearly as much now that the bolts aren’t inside his throat. Pulling out his phone and dropping a link to one of the many videos of his folks ranting about ‘evil ghosts’ in the chat. Which gets the chat bombarded with ‘THOSE WHOSE EYES SEE HAVE MOUTHS THAT DON’T MOVE’ and he’s pretty pleased with himself over that.

Tuck snorting as Sam pulls them to their seats, “smooth dude, now everyone who didn’t already know, knows it had to do with ghosts, GrEaT iDeA”. Oh the sarcasm was thick there.

Sam pulling out her own phone and scrolling, smacking Danny on the arm, it would have been a head slap if his neck wasn’t still fucked, “idiot! But ugh, at least it seems like it’ll keep people quiet. At least from the Fenton’s and maybe adults in general”.

Tuck shaking his head, “yeah, I still don’t get why all the adults have such a hard time seeing that, at the very least, Phantom’s good”.

Sam growling right back, “because they’re stupid and think that just because they’re adults and we’re kids that there’s no way they could be wrong and us right. And that if kids all agree on or do something then it must be dumb, wrong, or immature”.

Lily turning to face them, “a lot of us also do stupid shit, case and point”, pointing at Danny, “you coming to school with a barely attached head that looks awful holy shit”.

Ah crap, Danny mildly panicky readjusts up his turtleneck, fuck him so much. Tuck and Sam just sigh tiredly at this point, and another ‘those whose eyes see have mouths that don’t move’ gets added to the chat. But the girl grins at him, “you could totally get an awesome tat to cover that though”, leaning over, “I know a guy”.

What?

Sam is interested immediately, “oh do tell, I’ve been dying to get some webs on my shoulders”, grinning evilly, “especially because my parents will stop trying to stick me in strapless dresses then”.

The two girls absolutely do exchange info while one of the cheer leaders, Brittney he thinks, be-lines to his desk. Shit shit shit. But all she does is slam down a thing of lozenges, “here, we use these after practices and games since all that cheering makes for a wicked sore throat”. Danny is confused, “thanks?”. She cringes, “wow you do need them”, smirking, “at least you sound like a gruff musician now”; and walks off to her seat.

Apparently everyone takes that as a sign to give Danny stuff, because goddamn everyone brings him something and by the time the teacher shows up Danny has a little mound of random trinkets and things on his desk. Sam and Tuck are wheeze laughing at him. The teacher quirks an eyebrow at him, “Mr. Fenton?”.

“I’m a ‘agon apparently and tis my horde”.

“Are you sick?”.

“No physicals but in da head prob”.

The teacher rolls her eyes at him before starting the lesson. He spends the entire class getting bombarded by direct messages.

‘Get lots of sleep’

‘There’s some stupid powerful muscle relaxers in my locker’

‘West side bathrooms water is green again so don’t use that to wash up’

‘Do you have enough food’

‘I’m giving Dash first aid lessons against his will for you’

‘You want some apple pie’

‘Whoever did that is going down in my notes as ‘head stealing asshole’ forever more’

‘I cleaned your blood up, no worries’

‘You want more losengezes’

‘I’m making everyone sign a get well soon card bye the bye, it’s glittery and cute’

‘There’s balloons in your locker now, open when most chaotic for maximum chaos’

‘I will cry on your shoulder to feed you emotions if that’s a real thing ghosts do’

‘I’ve got a great emotion support ferret if you want something to pet’

‘I shall supply you with an alarming amount of soothing teas’

And on and on it went, he had to put his phone on silent for fucks sake! It was kinda cute and nice though. Even if it seemed like the entire school had now decided to baby him. And as soon as class ends he gets jumped by one of the drama kids, who throws gauze around his neck.

Danny sputtering and taking a ‘no limbs are allowed to touch’ stance, the gauze hanging like a scarf, “why!?”.

“To wrap it so it doesn’t get infected, obviously”. The kid just walks away.

Tuck, looking at his phone, chuckles, “dude, you’ve been given the ‘is baby’ role”. Danny just pouts and pulls the gauze off from the back of his neck. This wasn’t useful for him, he’d dissolve it, but hey the sentiment was nice.

Jasper chuckling as he comes out of the classroom behind them, “yeah because you’re not taking care of yourself apparently”.

Someone actually gives him a whole ass pie in the hallway before the trio manages to get to their next class, he’s pretty sure they all actually missed lunch somewhere in the time they were dealing with Dash. So hey, free food! Definitely appreciated. Even if he hunches over it to make the fact that he’s just phasing pieces into his stomach not super obvious, and it’s not as good as Skulker’s but the teacher doesn’t give him shit for eating in class beyond glaring… which half the class glares right back at the teacher for.

Then, of course, his ghost sense goes off. Fuck him entirely. Hand shooting up, “bathroom”, and him fucking off. This time he’s careful about potential headbuttable objects when he phases his head through the school roof.

By the time he finds the ghost, it’s Technus annoyingly, there’s not much for him to do. Why? Because at least twelve teens and goddman twenty little kids are kicking and throwing things at the ghost and shouting about leaving Phantom alone. Technus is actually curled up crying, “I CAME TO CHECK ON HIM! PLEASE STOP SMALL CHILDREN!”.

Danny is so fucking confused.

Him floating down slowly, “uh? Whatcha doin’?”.

One of the teens stops, huffing, “well you need to heal, dontcha? Literally no one’s actually seen you with an injury that lasts more than a few seconds”, shrugging, “so no fighting for you”.

Is… is this how he’s going to have to tell the town that he actually likes getting into fights? Oh man, awkward. “I enjoy it though”.

“You are injured. No fighting. In fact-”, the girl digs in her pocket and holds out some tickets to him, “-you shouldn’t even be in school. Go have fun at that little petting zoo in Elmerton”.

Danny takes them because it would be rude not to, right. Blinking at the whimpering ghost, “I’m… still gonna soup him”.

“That’s what you call it? That’s adorable”.

Danny blushes and quickly captures the beaten miserable ghost, immediately leaving. Making it back to class at the same time that Sam and Tuck get bodily pushed out of it. Danny blinking at them, “uh?”.

Sam shakes her head fondly, “apparently we’re supposed to go to a petting zoo?”. Tuck chuckling, “we’ve also been given firm instructions to swaddle you, but I am not caring you around in a teenager sized fabric baby swaddle”; he actually holds up a bunch of fabric.

Danny blinks harshly, “what”, shaking his head and holding up the tickets, “some kids were curb stomping Technus mosh pit style. I’m legit a little touched”. Sam gives an impressed whistle before snagging the tickets, shrugging, and dragging both boys off. Guess they are indeed going to a petting zoo.

“Hey good morning guys, welcome to the Elmerton petting zoo. We’ve got brushes and some treats to the side, or you can just give them pet downs and love with your hands and hearts; everyone here is super friendly, though Flapjacks the black goat is a headbutter”.

Sam snorts eyeing Danny, “you’re a goat, Danny”.

“Goated, you mean”.

She absolutely smacks him for that.

The lady continues, “most places won’t let you hand feed but we gave up on that because you Amity kids are a nightmare and never follow rules”.

Tuck snorting, “how’d you know we’re Amity Parkers”.

“You’re skipping school boldly and look dead inside, obvious tell”. Danny absolutely doubles over wheeze laughing at that, a rabbit sniffs him cautiously.

“And just like goats, you guys are always finding new and interesting ways to nearly kill yourselves. Muffintail got stuck upside down in a random bucket last night and screamed bloody murder till one of the dogs got him out”, pointing to some signs, “we have more neat info about goats over there besides their desire to die”.

Danny snickers, smirking at Sam and Tuck, “Muffintail huh? ‘It’s muffin time, who wants a muffin, please I just wanna die. Please somebody kill me, please it’s muffin time’”.

Tuck wheezes, “fuck that’s so old Danny, zone damn it”. The petting zoo lady laughs to herself too.

Sam wandering off to grab some carrots and poking the roasters with them, at least the roosters actually eat said carrots. A peacock jumps on her head though, Danny and Tuck both absolutely taking a photo of that shit. The zoo lady smiling at that before speaking up again, “before you start wandering around too much, Amity Parker’s aren’t allowed in the horse or deer area since all that ghost smell freaks them out. Please don’t scare our horses and deers. And since there’s blood on your sweater, please leave the wolves alone as they will bite you”.

Tuck laughs while Danny’s face heats up something fierce, he absolutely didn’t bring a spare sweater though so… Danny muttering, “I forgot about that”. Tuck patting his back before he does actually wonder off to bother the other rabbits.

Of course the second Danny’s left up to his own devices he immediately gets rammed in the back by a black goat, which proceeds to walk on his back when he falls over. The petting zone lady scolding it, “Flapjacks no”, when the goat physically jumps up and down on him. Sam absolutely got a video and sent it to the teen chat along with a ‘can’t go anywhere with this dumbass’. There’s mass responses of ‘bad goat!’ and one person commenting that ‘oh I know that one, he’s called flapjacks because he’s a jackass’. The lady does get Flapjacks off him long enough for him to get swarmed by curious bunnies, Tuck following after and laughing at the bunny pile that Danny’s become. That also goes into the chat and gets far more ‘cute’ responses.

The amount of time Danny gets followed around by bunnies is adorable and weird, Danny blinking at his bunny herd, “I think bunnies like me”. Tuck pouting, “I want the bunny love”; Danny gives the guy a bunny, it kicks him immediately. Poor Tuck, Danny snickers at him.

Sam walking over with an owl in her arms, the petting zoo lady looking confused in the distance. “You would think bunnies would hate you, since you’re basically a predator”.

“I don’t eat ghosts, Sam”.

Tuck snickering, “You should, get that ecto”.

“Ew! Tucker!”, Sam smacks the geek, “they are sentient beings!”.

“And sentient beings are delicious, my point stands”.

“Blood mouth”.

Danny laughing at the mild argument, laughing until one of the bunnies decides to bite him right in the fucking throat, “augh! ow what the fuck!”, the bunny runs of with a staple in its mouth. “No no no no no no no no, give that back!”. Danny winces and chases after the bunny even with bits of pain shooting up the side of his neck now; it was doing a pretty good job of healing. Was.

It takes ten minutes of him, Sam, and Tuck chasing the bunny for Sam to catch it and get the semi-dissolved severely ecto-contaminated staple out of the bunnies teeth. The bunny is very mad about loosing its prize and immediately starts biting Danny’s shoes. Danny huffing, holding a bit of fabric to his neck to stem the renewed bleeding, asking the petting zoo lady, “what’s that one’s name?”.

“I Eat My Cereal Dry”.

“Well I Eat My Cereal Dry is a dick”.

She laughs at that at least, while the trio continues wandering around the area.

Lindsey thinks that outside of the bitey rabbit and back-butting goat the whole trip turns out pretty good for the three kids. Sure after school let’s out the place basically gets swarmed by Casperhigh students to the point where the place hits max capacity. She’s frankly flabbergasted and vaguely overwhelmed, especially when most of the students are more interested in the kid with the extremely disturbing neck injury that keeps getting harassed by bunnies.

Like… they’re damn near hand feeding the kid more than the animals, giving him head pats and arm pats and back pats; Millie the goat gets jealous and starts trying to get them to stay away from the boy. Adorable but strange.

At least none of them go near the horses or deers.

Thankfully Danny’s able to go home without running into his parents or any ghosts, seemingly Techus or Johnny or Boxy told everyone to fuck off; Technus getting ganged up on was probably a pretty solid warning to most since everyone really only wanted to fight Phantom specifically or cause random chaos, not get assaulted by children with severely brutalised senses of danger.

Zone, he even makes it through the night uninterrupted for a change!

And checking his throat out in the mirror in the morning, moving it around and prodding at the stitching, and scars from all the staples that have since dissolved. It still ached a bit but there’s no actual pain. The steel brackets are definitely still there because Dash went and grabbed thick ass fuckers but all the bolts are gone for sure, so swallowing and physically eating still made a bunch of pressure on his throat; meaning he’s still sticking to phasing food into his stomach instead of chewing shit.

Jazz bangs on the door a little aggressively, Danny sighing as it just pops open, her staring at his neck, “seriously? Are you okay?”.

Danny sighing again for good measure and rolling his eyes at her, “I am now, yes I know the scarring is gnarly, that’s because of a not super great patch job and not because of how bad the injury was”.

Jazz sighs shaking her head, “I saw the chat by the way”, her leaning on the doorframe, “so, everyone knows now, huh?”.

Danny groans exaggeratedly, he’d tilt his head back dramatically if he wasn’t still slightly injured, “just the teens thankfully”, eyeing her, “they're a lot better about ghosts than the towns adults”.

“You mean the Fenton’s”.

“I mean all of the adults, Jazz. Mom and dad… are just the worst of them”.

She hums at him, which he ignores, “are you even bothering to cover it up now?”.

He knows exactly why she’s asking that, he’s in just his standard simple long sleeve that he always wears nowadays meaning that everyone and anyone will be able to see the scars and bits that are still healing. But he grabs up a handkerchief from the counter, “I’m still covering it, just not really caring about whether I draw attention to it or not”. After all, adults generally won’t ask, teenagers definitely would have… if they didn’t all already know what was up.

“I still don’t like it”.

Danny huffing, “it’s not really your scar to like or show off or not, Jazz”. Zone, with this there was almost no point in bothering to hide any of his scaring anymore, but going bare arms might be pushing it right now, considering how severe some of the scaring was. Eh maybe someday, but not today. “It’s not like mom and dad will really notice”. She cringes but he doesn’t really care if she doesn’t like the honesty.

Jazz nods a little, “well I’m off, try to stay in school?”.

Danny waving her off as he’s grabbing up the handkerchief, “yeah yeah yeah, the ghosts have backed off to let me heal a little so I might be able to actually do that”, chuckling, “apparently decapitation is freaky to them. Who knew”. That does get a laugh out of her at least, before she fully leaves.

Danny not too far behind.

…

Sam and Tuck eye the handkerchief and chuckle to themselves. Sam smirking, “nice neck piece, bored of sweaters already?”.

“Pfft, you know how I like to keep things interesting”.

Kwan shouting, “Fenton! How’s your headless doll situation!”.

What? Danny looks to the jock, confused, “what are you even talking about, Kwan?”.

“You know, like that thing where a ladies head is held by a ribbon? Except you’ve got bolts and staples and thread?”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “that green ribbon story? That has nothing to do with dolls man, but it does have to do with dead people and a decapitation, I guess”, and shrugs, pointing to the handkerchief, “ain’t perfect but my heads almost fully reattached, nothing is actively holding anything on anymore”. At Kwan pointing at his own neck and tilting his head, Danny just assumes he’s asking further about his fashion choices, “it’s still healing, man, it looks gnarly”.

Kwan waves that answer off, “pssh, who cares. Scars make men of boys!”.

Danny, vaguely insulted, grabs the bottom of his shirt and yanks it up aggressively, gesturing at his torso and the aggressive amount of scaring there. Including the nasty, repeatedly reopened, and rarely stitched back together right, Y incision. “You sure about that one?”.

Kwan gapes a little, “dude, you are ripped”.

Of course that’s what he cares about, Danny facepalms immediately. Dropping his shirt and sighing, “I’m still not walking around with a fucking barely healed decapitation scar, Kwan”. The guy has the audacity to pout at him.

Then someone yells, “nice neck! You goof!”.

Danny chuckles to himself, everyone in this goddamn town was so fucking weird and he loved them for it.

He really only keeps up with wearing the handkerchief while shits healing and when he knows his folks are gonna be around, every single teen just seemed to think it was cool. He got lots of lanyards with pins to ‘decorate’ the scar, some weird handkerchiefs, Emilie even knitted him an infinity scarf. The one that made him laugh the most, and realise that things definitely were going to be just fine, was him getting mobbed by the art kids sticking temporary tattoos all around and over the scarring; it looked so damn silly seeing one of his gnarliest scars just covered in unicorns and seagulls and stars and an angry goat. Somehow everyone having fun with it and him not being bothered by it kept the adults from ever even trying to ask about it.

End.

PRompts: Tooth-rotting fluff occurs at Casper High after Danny's secret identity is revealed. Identity reveal. Dash finds out Danny is Phantom. What happens? Could be swagger bishie or not, either or is okay. Danny, Sam, and Tucker go to a petting zoo. Danny receives an injury or scar that he can't easily hide in one form, let alone two.

[cockymclaughlin]

i made spooky rotten pumpkins

[queenxxxsupreme]

Beneath the Heat of the Sun

A/N: There isn’t really a plot to this. Just some protective!Eskel and soooo much fluff. Here is my masterlist. Here is the link to go to if you’d like to be added to any of my taglists. And thank you to my baby @writingawaymylife thank you so so much for reading over this and helping me out with it!! I love you babe<3

Warnings: implied smut, name calling, use of the word whore in a not sexy/dirty talk way

Word Count: 2.8k

The soft breeze blowing by offered little comfort to the sun that beat down on your skin relentlessly. There wasn’t a single cloud in sight. Birds sung in the treetops, and once in a while, you’d see a rabbit or two run by. 

The day had been quiet but busy. Eskel was up before dawn fixing and tidying up things around the house. He always did this before he left home for the Path. You were up shortly after him, having felt the bed move slightly as he got up.

You rested on your knees in the middle of your strawberry garden, pulling weeds and picking the ripened fruit from the vines. Every now and then, you’d have to shoo one of your animals away. All they want to do is eat the plants and destroy the strawberries.

You swiped the back of your hand over your forehead, wiping the thin layer of sweat from your skin. You were just in a white chemise tucked into a thin skirt but it felt like you were going to die from the heat.

Magnus, your one month old lamb, tried to sneak into the garden for the third time. He watched you carefully, taking slow steps. He was a sneaky little thing, but he wasn’t nearly as sneaky as he thought. 

You spotted him and pointed your finger at him. 

“Magnus, don’t you dare.”

He bleated loudly and jolted forward, snatching a mouthful of strawberries and greens. He dashed off, white tail flicking happily behind him. 

“You are so rude, Magnus.” You shook your head.

The sound of a quiet chuckle came from across the garden. Eskel was down on one knee fixing a part of the fence that the chickens could get through. His side was to you, giving you the perfect view of his profile. 

Sweat covered his sun kissed skin. His dark hair was mostly pulled back into a low ponytail but some unruly strands fell out around his face. His lips were parted just slightly, golden eyes focused on the wire fencing. The muscles in his arm flex as he bent the wire how he needed and that vein in his forearm was popping out.

“Are you laughing at me scolding our son?”

“I would never.” He shook his head, looking at you out of the corner of his eyes. He met your gaze, a little smile tugging at the corner of his scarred lips. 

“You’re the reason he’s such a spoiled little thing.” You shook your head, mocking disapproval.

You had stumbled upon Magnus’s mother, who you named Nissa, a week before she had Magnus. She was pregnant and her owner was selling her at the market in town. You didn’t think about getting her at first. Your cozy cottage tucked into a hill in Toussaint was crowded enough with the chickens, goose, two horses, and foal that already called the property home. But then you thought of how Eskel had been different ever since Lil Bleater passed away three months earlier. You thought that perhaps this little lamb would lift his spirits. 

And Magnus did just that. The witcher clung to him like his first born. The first few days of his life, Eskel never left Magnus’s side. Magnus was a sickly lamb but as soon as he was healthy and able to walk, he was getting himself into trouble. He had a personality similar to Lil Bleater, one that made Eskel smile whenever he thought of it.

You pushed yourself to your feet and padded over to the bucket of water you had retrieved from the creek just a few minutes earlier. Some of the chickens were drinking from the bucket. The cool water was refreshing, a stark contrast to the dry, hot air.

You waited patiently for them to finish before dipping a rag into the water. You glanced over to Eskel. His back was now to you. 

You carried the sopping wet rag at your side, carefully watching him as you moved towards him. The grass beneath your feet was soft and effectively silenced your steps. 

“I’m thinking that next year, I’ll have to put a second fence around my strawberries. The chickens love them.”

“I think Magnus likes to help them out too.” Eskel sighed. He was oblivious to what you were doing. He was too focused on the fence, on fixing it for you. “He’s the one who broke into the fence for the chickens.”

“Troublemaker.” You hummed softly. 

Once you were behind the witcher, you rung the rag out. The water fell onto his shoulders and down his back. He flinched at the coldness and gasped. 

“And you say Magnus gets his bad habits from me.” Eskel looked over his shoulder to you. “I’m trying to work here, doll.”

You offered him an innocent smile, kneeling down behind him. Your fingertips traced the lines of water over the divots in his back caused by his muscles and by scars. 

“We should take a little break.” You thought out loud.

“What did you have in mind?” He turned his head straight to look down at the fence. 

You kissed his shoulder blade, your lips ghosting over a jagged and thick scar. He looked over his shoulder once more, knowing you were up to something. He just couldn’t figure out what it was. His brows drew together slightly. Your eyes met his but he couldn’t read you. The little smile on your lips showed you were passive and content. You leaned up to kiss his temple, swiping a few pieces of dark hair from his brow.  

You stood up straight and hummed, moving away from him without offering an answer.

His gaze followed you, watching you move to the creek that rested just beyond your strawberries. 

On the other side of the creek was a dirt road that led to town. The creek was wide but it was shallow. Most of the creek right in front of your house came up to your ankles but sometimes it got a little deeper.

Every now and then, the hem of your skirt would get snagged on the grass or a fallen limb but it never changed how elegantly you walked, how gracefully you appeared. 

Curious, Eskel followed you. 

Magnus bleated loudly and trotted across the yard to join you too. He always had to be included in everything the two of you did.

You looked over your shoulder to see if your witcher was following you. A smile crossed your lips when you saw that he wasn’t too far away.

You pulled your skirt up just a little and stepped into the edge of the creek. The water was cold and made you shiver, but it felt so nice after being in the heat all day long. 

The rocks beneath your feet were flat and smooth. 

A hand slipped around your waist as Eskel moved around you to stand in front of you. You let your skirt go, your hands coming up to his arms. Your fingertips brushed over the slopes of his broad shoulders until you could tangle your fingers in his hair. 

“You mentioned yesterday that you’d have to leave soon.” You murmured quietly, eyes flickering down to a scar that crossed over his throat. It was thick and clean. Someone had tried-and nearly succeeded-in decapitating the witcher. 

“I don’t want to talk about that.” He dipped his head down to kiss your clavicle. “Just want to enjoy this.”

You nodded, unwrapping your arms from his neck. Your fingers trailed up and down his bicep. He took your hand to stop you, bringing your fingers to his lips so he could kiss your knuckles. You turned your hand in his grip so you could cup his jaw. You smiled lightly at the feeling of his scruffy jaw scratching your palm. His facial hair had grown out more than what he usually allowed it to, and you admired it. It was a good look on him. 

“I like this.” You complimented, your words hushed even though there was no one around to hear. 

He grunted softly, rubbing his scarred cheek. 

“Need to shave.”

“Then I shall mourn your scruff until it returns to me.” You leaned up to brush your lips across his jaw, enjoying the way his prickly scruff felt.

He smiled shyly, dipping his head down to bury his face in the crook of your neck. 

“I do love the way it feels against my lips when I kiss you.”

Magnus bleated loudly to announce his arrival and jumped into the creek, splashing water on the both of you. Eskel lifted his head and sighed, looking down at the lamb. 

“Well, that didn’t last long.”

Your arms released him so you could pet Magnus. 

“He’s just so spoiled.” You knelt down in front of the lamb and rubbed his neck. “You spoil him.”

“Yeah. I can’t help it.” Eskel rubbed the back of his neck. “Love him too much.”

“I know you do.” You stood up and kissed his cheek, then looked at the creek.

You grinned a little as you knelt down close to the water. You scooped up a handful and threw it on to Eskel. It hit him in the lower stomach. 

“Oh, now you’re in for it.” Eskel moved towards you quickly. You didn’t have time to get away. He swept you off of your feet, holding underneath your knees and your back.

You giggled, kicking your feet lightly.

“Eskel! Put me down!”

“If you say so.” He moved to a deeper part of the creek. It wasn’t very deep but it came up to his knees. He carefully placed you down in the cold water. You gasped and jolted, clinging to his shoulders. 

“Eskel!” You squealed his name. “It’s freezing cold!”

“Oops.” He grinned. 

You put your hand into the water and splashed him, catching him in the chest. 

This sparked a fight between the two of you. He moved away from you, wanting to escape the splashing. You continued to splash him but once he was at the edge of the water, he casted aard down into the water just in front of you. This caused the water to practically blow up on you, soaking you from head to toe. 

You fell into a fit of laughter while he grinned.

“Need some help up, doll?” He offered, moving towards you with his hand stretched out.

You placed your hand in his and allowed him to pull you to your feet. 

His eyes flickered down very briefly to your chest. Your chemise was soaked through and had become completely see-through. 

“I saw that.” You playfully swatted at his chest. 

You could’ve sworn a soft pink rose to his cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized shyly, eyes falling from your face. 

“I’m just messing with you, love.” You put your hand on his arm to stop him from walking away. “Just teasing you. It’s okay.”

You brushed a strand of hair away from his eyes and kissed his jaw. 

“Remember that I am yours.” You murmured, one hand coming up to rest on his stomach. Beneath scarred, tanned skin was firm muscle. 

His breath caught in his throat for a second. It always did whenever you told him that, and his heart would beat a little faster. 

He nodded his head and leaned down to kiss your lips briefly. 

“Why don’t we go finish the garden and then we can settle down for the day?” You suggested.

He nodded once more, smiling when you stood up on your tiptoes to kiss him again.

Magnus bleated and used one of his front hooves to dig at your ankle. 

“You better get your son before he dies from lack of attention.” You giggled, looking down at the lamb. He peered up at you, blinked, and bleated again. 

“He’s your son too.” Eskel sighed. He scooped Magnus up in one arm. The lamb bleated loudly. “You get into too much trouble.” 

Eskel left the creek first but stayed on the bank to wait for you. 

You lifted your skirt up a little so you wouldn’t trip over the material as you carefully navigated the rocks beneath the water. You lost your bearings for a moment, your foot sliding on a slippery rock. 

Eskel looked back when he heard you suck in a breath from your lips. You managed to balance yourself once more, eyes flickering up to look at Eskel. 

“You okay, doll?”

You nodded, giving him a smile, and continued across the rocks. 

“Would you look at that, boys?” A voice came from the dirt road to your right. There was a group of men, six of them, and they had stopped to watch you.

You brought your arm up to cover your chest. Being that your shirt was now see-through, you didn’t want any unwanted eyes looking where they shouldn’t. 

“Why don’t you just take that top off, love?” One suggested. His friends bursted out into laughter. 

Your skin crawled from them gazing at you like some piece of meat. 

Eskel was stepping in front of you before you had time to say his name. He set Magnus down so he could have his hands free. The lamb trotted over to your horse, Ghost, who was resting beneath the shade of an oak tree. 

“Come on, doll.” Eskel turned his back to the group of men, his arm slipping around you.

“Hey! What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Why don’t you come over here and keep us company?”

“Forget about that mutant freak.”

You stopped in your tracks and tried to turn around to confront them but Eskel wouldn’t let you.

“Just keep walking, Y/N.” He said. 

You gritted your teeth together. You hated that the nosey people in your village had found out about Eskel. You weren’t ashamed of your witcher, but you knew how they would treat him, how they would react knowing a witcher was living among them. They always spoke down on him and treated him like dirt. You couldn’t stand to see the way they were with, acting as if he was any less human than they were. 

“Show us your tits, love!”

“Have some decency, would you?” Eskel finally snapped, looking back at the unsavory characters. This made the men tense up and their smirks disappear.

“What are you going to do about it, freak?”

“Eskel.” You said his name, fingers digging into his bicep when he turned as if to confront them. “Come on, my love.”

Eskel breathed out through his nose, lips pressed together in a tight line. Still, he refused to move.

“Eskel.” You said his name once more, this time a little more sternly. 

Silently, he turned and started to guide you towards your home. 

The group of men shouted a few more lewd remarks at you, but you ignored them.

“Take Magnus into the house.” Eskel spoke softly to you. 

“What are you going to do?” You drew your brows together.

“Finish the fence. I’ll be in in a few minutes.”

“Eskel, please don’t provoke them. They aren’t worth it.”

“I know.” He dipped his head down to kiss your lips. “I just want to make sure the chickens don’t get into your garden while we are inside.”

“Magnus!” You called the lamb’s name, patting your thigh. He came trotting over to you, bleating and kicking his back legs. You picked him up as Eskel moved away from the house. 

You closed the door behind yourself, placing the lamb down on his feet. Then you went to the window that overlooked your garden. From there, you could watch your witcher finish up the fence that bordered the garden. 

The men were still on the road. Their mouths moved but you couldn’t hear what they were saying. 

Eskel ignored them, but you could see how tense he was, how rigid with frustration he was. 

When he finished with the fence and started to move towards the house, you left the window to find dry clothes for you both. 

Eskel found you rummaging through your wardrobe. 

“I-I’m sorry that happened, Y/N. That they said those things to you.”

“What they did isn’t something you should apologize for, Eskel.” You glanced over to him, giving him a little smile. 

“But I just hate that they-they looked at you like some toy. Just something to use to-,”

“Hey.” You cut him off softly, finding a thin dress, and stood up. “It’s fine. It’s over. It’s done with. No need to linger on it.”

He nodded, fingers still curled into tight fists at his sides. 

You tossed the clean chemise on to the edge of your bed and then moved to him. Your hands started on his shoulders, trailing down his arms to rest on the backs of his hands. 

“I love you.” You whispered, eyes twinkling as you gazed up at him. 

A little smile tugged at the scarred corner of his lips. 

“I love you too.” He leaned down to kiss you but you stopped him. 

“Not until we are out of these soaking wet clothes.”

“Then let me help you.” His smile turned into a grin as his hands found the hem of your chemise.

Taglist: @pressedinthepages @mishafaye @whitewolfandthefox @wolfyland07 @belalugosisdead @persephonehemingway @keira-hulmaster @dinonuggs69 @greatestauthorofmygeneration @shadow-hunters-lover @dancingwith-thesunflowers @tedi-fach-las @thecomfortofoldstorries @raspberrydreamclouds @natkowaa @disasteren @weathervanes-my-oneandlonely @onlyhenrys @wackylurker @criminaly-supernatural @magpie343 @permanently-exhausted-witcher @hina-chans-stuff @the-space-between-heartbeats @havenoffandoms @carriebee1 @ger-bearofrivia @naominami @writingawaymylife @reaganjenelle @badassspaceprincess @theawkwardpedestrian @scarlettwitcher @just-a-sad-donut @summersong69 @an--actual--human--disaster @rubyqueen819 @omgkatinka @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @vonxcon @she-wolfoftheinquisition @titaniafire @mazakeen @bravelittlesunflower

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[agapaic]

tianshan top gun-AU drabble. 💞 on behalf of emma’s very generous donation to the ‘justice for jacob blake fund’ @plumb19. if you would like to donate to an organisation supporting black lives in return for a drabble, please see here for more information (closes monday evening). 🌸

///

‘No visual on Farmer! I repeat, no visual on Farmer!’

He Tian’s laugh comes through his headgear. ‘You don’t need a visual on me, sweetheart! This is a race not an op—there’s no bandit here but me!’

Guan Shan grits his teeth. He goes full throttle, flies blind. The finish line is in sight, ten miles out at his twelve o’clock. He can feel his face pulling backwards with the speed, the G-force making him lightheaded. He can’t g-LOC now—he’d die from the shame of acting out the funky chicken before his plane even hit the ground. He Tian will know what happened—he’ll see the Firebird jet tail out, the vape from the tail end stretching skywards.

Faster—fucking faster.

Guan Shan’s eyes dart to his mirrors. All clear. Where the fuck is He Tian? He can’t be ahead of him—there’s no way Guan Shan could go any faster. He’s got the jet firewalled, his head mashed backwards against the headrest. His bones are shaking; his teeth are aching.

He Tian again: ‘Right above you, sweetheart.’

Guan Shan’s head jerks up. He doesn’t know why he bothers looking. There’s nothing there but the roof of the jet: no window. He Tian’s a ghost on his radar.

‘The fuck do you think you are?’ Guan Shan spits, eye locked back on the finish line. The engine roars in his ears. ‘Fuckin’ God?’

He Tian laughs again. Guan Shan doesn’t hate that He Tian’s enjoying this—he hates that he’s enjoying it too. Why shouldn’t he? It’s a game, not a dogfight, and the winner chooses the reward. There’s no bogey or bandit on their trail, no spike on the radar. When’s the last time he got to go full throttle without the fear of a strike?

‘Come on, Guan Shan,’ He TIan croons through the headset. ‘We’re nose for nose.’

‘Are you even tryin’?’ Guan Shan barks back.

‘You should see my hand,’ says He Tian. ‘It’s never wrapped tighter around a stick before.’

Guan Shan swears under his breath. He Tian must hear it: he laughs.

Two miles.

‘Just—get off my back, would’ya?’ he grouches out. ‘Wanna see your face when I beat you over the finish line.’

‘Oh, Ah-Shan. You know I like to finish on top.’

Guan Shan veers.

There’s a damning thud, an awful shriek of metal. He Tian swears over the comms. Everything shakes and the engine judders as the underbelly of each jet scrapes against each other. The sky swings above him, pendulum-like, and an alarm blares somewhere.

Out the corner of Guan Shan’s eye, he sees He Tian’s jet wrench itself away. The Shenyang J-6 sidles up beside his own, evening out. He Tian’s face is shielded by his helmet and the high-alt oxygen mask, but Guan Shan imagines his mouth split open in a wide, white-toothed smile.

Fucker.

‘Daring,’ He Tian comments over the radio, his voice crackling. ‘Nearly took me out with that move. Yourself included.’

Guan Shan breathes shallowly. His heart is beating fast, and he wrestles it under 110. If it goes too high or flatlines Zhan Zhengxi will call in the cavalry from the base.

‘I’m not above playin’ dirty,’ Guan Shan mutters.

‘Oh, I know. You’re not a grape, Mo Guan Shan. Bigger balls than anyone gives you credit for.’

You’d like to think so.

‘At least,’ says He Tian, ‘I’d like to think so.’

700 yards. They’re at break-neck now. A final bend through airspace, and Guan Shan will be over the finish line. His face has started to go numb. He’s conscious only of the pressure in his ears, behind his eyes. Feels like bruising in his eye sockets. His knuckles must be bone-white beneath the gloves.

500 yards from the turn. Guan Shan bites down hard on his lower lip. The jet rattles around him like an earthquake in flight. If he leaves it too late he’ll veer off path and lose seconds he knows he wouldn’t recover. Too early and he might force the jet straight into He Tian’s and they could both go down.

‘You gonna tell me your action plan?’ asks Guan Shan, teeth gritted.

‘Oh, no. I’m leaving this all to you.’

Guan Shan swears, eyes on the blue-skied horizon. 200 yards. ‘Even if I kill us both.’

‘I think you know how to punch out if it gets too much.’

Now. Guan Shan yanks down hard on the controller, the skyline swerves around him; nausea wells in his throat. There’s no collision; he has no visual on He Tian’s jet and no time to wonder why that might be. He makes the turn, levels out, throttles forward to the finish line.

The base comes into view below him, and a green light blinks up at him from ATC like a traffic light.

He’s done it.

Guan Shan throws his head back against the headrest, breathes out shallowly.

A voice comes over the comms. ‘This is Mother to Firebird. Mother to Firebird. How do you hear me?’

‘I hear you,’ Guan Shan says thickly. He starts to drop, pulls back the throttle. He’ll have to do a loop of the base to line up with the runway. He doesn’t mind the victory lap.

There’s a smile in Zhan Zhengxi’s voice. ‘Cleared to land at your leisure. How does first place feel?’

Guan Shan swallows a grin. ‘Affirmative,’ he says. ‘Feels pretty fuckin’ good.’ He checks his mirrors. ‘Where the fuck is Farmer?’

‘Uh, he hasn’t crossed yet. Looks like he pulled back at the finish. Problem with his radar, I think? Jian Yi’s working him through it.’

Guan Shan’s mouth falls open. ‘Bullshit,’ he gasps. ‘Bull. Shit.’

‘Don’t shoot the messenger. Take it up with him.’

Guan Shan glares. He can feel his vision narrowing. He has half a mind to turn the jet around and shoot He Tian down for the sheer fucking hell of it—a fox two, maybe a three if he’s lucky. Guan Shan’s fingers go to the triggers. How fucking dare he?

‘Firebird, did you copy?’

Guan Shan sets his jaw. ‘Affirmative,’ he says flatly.

Take it up with him? He’d better fucking bet.

///

There’s a view of the runway from the changing rooms, a long strip of glass that means Guan Shan knows the exact moment He Tian’s Shenyang J-6 touches down on tarmac and pulls into the hangar. It means, also, he knows exactly how long it will take He Tian—second-place DNF loser—to walk through the base to the changing rooms.

It takes He Tian twenty minutes to land the jet and make his way to the changing room. Twenty minutes for Guan Shan to simmer and get himself close to boiling. The second He Tian walks through the door, he tips over. Guan Shan’s helmet smashes against the floor in fragments of plastic, metal, and glass.

The helmet nearly strikes He Tian in the face, but his reflexes are good. He dodges, swears, looks back to Guan Shan with wide, incredulous eyes. Glass crunches beneath his boot as he moves over to the ceiling-to-floor lockers.

‘Those are expensive, you know?’ He Tian says.

Guan Shan doesn’t care about a fucking helmet. He Tian’s father can foot the bill, mark it off as an extraneous expense. Being the commander of the base has its perks.

‘You fuckin’ fixed it.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ says He Tian, stripping off his gloves. ‘There was a malfunction. Probably after you rammed into me, I suspect.’

‘You let me win,’ Guan Shan growls.

He Tian shrugs. ‘Check the black box if you like. It’s all there.’

‘Who’d you pay to wire it?’

He Tian begins to unbuckle his suit. The black leather sticks to his body like a second skin, suggesting at lean muscle and broad shoulders that bare themselves as He Tian peels back its layers. Nothing about it is standard-issue. It’s been made to fit like a glove. Guan Shan hates it.

‘I didn’t pay anyone, Mo Guan Shan.’

‘Right. You didn’t have to. People will suck your dick around here for a look.’

He Tian looks at him.

Guan Shan snarls. ‘What the fuck do you even get by losing? Are you that fuckin’ desperate to disappoint him?’ He shoves a thumb upwards. Not God, but He Tian’s father, and doesn’t everyone act like he’s the same thing? ‘Fuck me over and bring shame on the family name? Two birds and one stone?’

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ He Tian sighs.

‘Fuck, I wanna kill you right now.��

‘Go on, then. Try.’

‘What’s the point?’ Guan Shan sneers. ‘You’ll punch out at the last second. Blame the faulty mechanics.’

A thought strikes him: he could punch him. A realisation: he’s going to.

Five concentrated footsteps, the swing back of his right arm.

His knuckles bruise on He Tian’s cheekbone.

‘Fuck!’ He Tian shouts. He spits blood onto the floor, doubles over at the waist. Guan Shan steps back and his eyes go to the sharp nodules of He Tian’s spine as he bends over, curved out like a penitent. Guan Shan looks at him with disgust.

‘You didn’t even fight back,’ he mutters. ‘Who the fuck has you whipped?’

There’s blood coming from He Tian’s nose; some of it has spattered onto the toe of Guan Shan’s boot. He Tian, Guan Shan realises, is laughing.

‘You’d think—oh, fuck me—you’d think it would be fucking obvious, wouldn’t you?’

Guan Shan stares at him. ‘This ain’t fuckin’ funny—’

‘But it is.’ He Tian winces, straightens, dabs two fingertips against his bloodied nose. ‘You’re a good fucking pilot, Mo Guan Shan, but you are awful with analytics. Never go into the Intelligence sector, okay?

Riddles and disguise. Guan Shan hates it. There’s some truth to He Tian’s words, but he’s glad for it: he’s glad he doesn’t get it. Glad he can’t deal with conundrum and complexity. In the ten years they’ve been at this—flight school, their junior years, coming close to leading, wingmen by virtue of their shared skills—he’s never stopped hating the enigma He Tian enjoys wrapping himself around like a coat keeping him warm through the winter.

‘I don’t have time for this.’

He turns to his locker; he’ll take his clothes back to his room, save changing for somewhere that rHe Tian can see him. He doesn’t want to be here anymore. He clicks in the combination, tugs the door open with a metallic clank. A hand falls to the locker beside him, just brushing the side of his head, and Guan Shan can feel the heat of He Tian’s bare chest through the fabric over his back.

Guan Shan swallows. ‘Move.’

‘I don’t want to.’

‘I’ll hit you again.’

‘I might put up a fight this time—even if it’s you.’

Guan Shan stills. ‘The fuck is that supposed to mean?’

‘What do you think?’

Guan Shan squeezes his eyes shut. ‘Tell me. Please, just fuckin’ tell me.’ Put me outta my misery.

He Tian’s mouth is level with his ear, and Guan Shan shudders as hot air moves across his neck. He Tian is too close. Guan Shan’s body still aches from the G-force, a strain that will last through the night, but he can’t distinguish it from anything else that might be bruising its way through his narrow veins like swallowing a tablet dry. Guan Shan puts his forehead on the frame of his open locker; the metal is cool to his skin.

‘Why do you think,’ He Tian murmurs, silken, ‘I would make sure you won?’

‘I don’t—’

‘Why do you think,’ he says, ‘I’d let you hit me if that’s what you wanted?’

If that’s what you wanted.

Guan Shan’s voice is tight. ‘I never wanted to win if you made yourself lose.’

There’s a pause. He Tian says, ‘You said you’d quit if you lost. Before the race. You said you’d move somewhere else if you couldn’t be number one here.’

Guan Shan frowns. ‘I was—that was a joke. I was just settin’ the stakes.’

He Tian moves. He’s a few paces back when Guan Shan turns to face him. His expression is unreadable, and Guan Shan’s head is working on overdrive trying to keep track of the conversation and all its hidden nuance.

‘Are you sayin’—you did that to keep me from leavin’? You seriously thought I’d quit over some stupid race?’

‘It wasn’t a stupid race. It was you and me—’

‘I’m never gonna be as fast as you,’ says Guan Shan slowly. ‘You’re never gonna be as good a shot as me. I know where we’re strong and I know where we’re not. I’m not gonna quit ‘cause of some stupid competition with you.’

‘But I didn’t know that.’

Guan Shan swallows. There’s a heat to He Tian’s words that blisters. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s conscious that He Tian is half-dressed before him and that there’s blood drying on his chin.

‘I’m not leavin’,’ Guan Shan tells him, feeling oddly inclined to reassure him. He Tian. The stalwart bastard who never gives him a break. Guan Shan can’t stop himself: ‘I’m—we’re a good team. General Qiu said we’re one of the best this fuckin’ base has seen in twenty years.’

‘You hate being my wingman,’ He Tian says flatly.

Guan Shan’s eyebrow quirks. ‘I get first seat watchin’ you fuck up and take none of the damage.’

He Tian drags a hand over his face. ‘God, he’s good,’ he mutters to himself. Louder, he says, ‘So if you weren't quitting if you lost, what did you want if you won?’

‘Probably the same as you,’ says Guan Shan carefully.

‘Ha!’ He Tian crows. His eyes darken. ‘Oh, I doubt it sweetheart.’

‘Wanna bet?’

He Tian’s brows lift. A smirk spreads slowly across his face, arrogance coming into steady effect. He swaggers forward.

‘My request,’ he murmurs, ‘would’ve been you.’

Guan Shan closes off his expression, puts his walls up. The news comes as no surprise: He Tian’s been clear with his intentions since they were in flight school, tugging at heartstrings like pigtails. Guan Shan doesn’t mind anymore. He’s used to it. He knows, with He Tian, the offer of intimacy is only sex and doesn’t go further. The walls Guan Shan has built are thick with cement.

Behind them, another jet comes into land. The windows rattle.

Guan Shan breathes out slowly, waits for the engine sound to fade. ‘Like I said,’ he starts, lifting his gaze from the floor. ‘Probably the same as you.’

It takes He Tian a few seconds. Guan Shan takes it as a win—a real one.

‘You—’ He Tian swallows. ‘So, all this time—all of our fighting. You could have just said so.’

‘Could’ve,’ Guan Shan admits. ‘But I never wanted sex, He Tian. I mean—I never just wanted it. Not like you.’

He Tian blinks at him. ‘Maybe I wasn’t clear. When I said I wanted to give you what you wanted: I meant it. Every word.’

‘You’re gonna regret that.’

He Tian nods slowly. ‘Very possibly,’ he says.

They’re close enough that when Guan Shan reaches out a hand and loops his fingers around He Tian’s wrist, He Tian comes forward with ease. His smile is indulgent.

He Tian continues: ‘But I’m willing to take a fox three for it.’

Guan Shan rolls his eyes. His fingers knot themselves in He Tian’s hair, and his mouth comes down to meet his willingly.

‘Shut the fuck up, He Tian.’

[trans-ruffboi]

built a chicken wire ghost for the yard

cut the shirt out of my arms for it

[mercuryandmeme]

Dude today was supposed to be a good day, I was gonna buy chicken wire to make spooky ghost decorations for my yard for Halloween but all I’ve got is a styrofoam head and a spider on my fucking guitar

[pbjpuppy]

Walks

I’ve been going on a lot of walks recently.

‘Cause, y’know being in the house all the time isn’t really good for you. Like, y’know, cabin fever and stuff? Plus, we just did this unit in science- through the computer, they’re calling it distance learning- about indoor air pollution, and how the air inside a home can be multiple times more polluted than outside air, and how most people spend most of their time indoors (90%!), which really makes sitting in my bedroom for long periods of time kind of unappealing.

I don’t always like staying in my room anyway. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I spend most of my time in there like any other teenager does, and it’s great! I love my room. I’m even lucky enough to have my own instead of having to share it with a sibling like some people do. But still, even if you live in paradise it’s a prison if you can’t leave, so I don’t stay in there all the time. Sometimes I just wander around my house in circles instead. Or sit in my dad’s room.

Anyway- walks. Lots of them. One every day is the new routine, unless I get lazy, which has happened once or twice and I always regret it. To the end of the block, which intersects the road in a “T” shape, then I turn to the right and walk all the way until the sidewalk ends (Through the old elementary school’s parking lot- I’m always worried security will yell at me, but so far I’ve been peacefully ignored), then I turn back and walk all the way past my block again to the other end of the sidewalk, then home. It’s not the most scenic route; I live in the suburbs of Long Island and all the trees are dead because it’s only just turned April, and all there is to see is houses and road.

I keep myself entertained, though. There’s actually a lot to see if you really look. Nothing extraordinary, but that’s kind of what I like about it. I keep my eyes to the ground a lot, and you see a lot of litter on the ground: Cups, cans, cigarette boxes, packs of tissues, chicken wire, caution tape, strange boxy wooden contraptions that look busted and have been abandoned. Once I even saw an unopened condom. It’s an environmental nightmare, of course, but for the arrogant human on her walk it provides plenty of brain food. For every piece of trash there was a living, breathing human who held it, who used it, who discarded it. I wonder what they’re like and if I’ll ever meet them, what they’re up to. If they’re alive right now.

There’s not much that’s all too impressive in terms of nature, like I said, but it’s still outside, and I’ve seen a bunch of interesting nature-y things, too. On my first walk, I found a chunk of a wasp’s nest, half-rotted. Recently I found a bird’s nest too, and I wanted to go pick it up, but it was in somebody’s yard and I didn’t want to get yelled at for trespassing. Just today I passed right through a murder of crows, kind of. They were perched in a group on the trees and telephone wires, and their croaking startled me out of my daydreaming to admire them. I’ve seen a lot of things that look like bones that aren’t bones, and one time I saw something that looked like a bone that actually was a bone.

The one natural thing I don’t see on my walks is humans. Not one in a week. I would have expected to see at least one person walking their dog or something, or just doing work in the yard. I mean, everybody else has to be as restless as I am inside, right? But no, no people to be seen. That’s okay, though. The sidewalk is narrow, I like not having to share it. It also means I can text while I walk and not worry about bumping into someone. Plus, I guess it’s been kind of yucky out weather-wise. By the time I get home from my walks my nose is usually pink and runny from the cold.

I live with two other people, my dog, my cat, and my two pet rats. That makes seven living things and three living humans. The house is quiet a lot of the time. My brother and I are both teenagers- I’m seventeen, he’s nineteen- and we spend a lot of time in our rooms. My dad is usually working, or out of the house. He likes to go over to his girlfriend’s house a lot, or out to the city for the weekend before… Everything happened, and I’ll take care of myself for the evening and the following day or so. Sometimes it’s longer than that. I don’t hear from my brother those days, he makes his own food. Sometimes I’ll be home alone and won’t even realize until I walk past his bedroom and see it’s been empty this whole time.

My dad’s been away a lot this week, I think. And my brother’s been quiet. I think he’s told me he doesn’t feel well. That’s okay. I can take care of myself well enough and I think I have people online to talk to. My dog barks a lot, that’s kind of like conversation. Plus, I have Animal Crossing, that game where you live on an island with a bunch of little animal people? It’s really cute, I love it. I talk to the animals on Animal Crossing. I don’t mind being alone.

I’m on a walk, and my fingers and nose are cold and pink. I have an umbrella, but I don’t actually need it. It’s not raining anymore, the wind is just moist and cold. It’s dangling from my wrist. I liked playing tug-of-war with my umbrella against the wind, but the wind won, and my umbrella turned inside out, so I stopped. I’m coming back from the right side of the T.

There’s lots of evidence of humans. There’s so much litter, pieces of trash that somebody was holding and let go of and now it’s on the ground. I thought I smelled weed before, which is gross, but that means that somebody somewhere was smoking it, somewhere nearby. There’s graffiti on the street signs.

There’s lots of cars on the road, too. I don’t know where they’re going. Nobody’s really supposed to be going anywhere right now, I think. We’re supposed to be staying home, that’s what I was told. Maybe they’re going to get groceries. You’re allowed to go get groceries. All of them are getting groceries.

Going to school online is a weird and kind of stressful experience, by the way, did I mention that? I’ve never done anything like homeschooling, I’ve always gone to public school my whole life, ever since I went to the old elementary school that I have to pass through on my walks. I’m used to structure. There’s this bell that drones at the end of every class, and when you hear the bell you get up and shuffle to your next class, forty-two minutes every class period. I’m used to that. Now they’re so far away. The classes, I mean, like, the concept of them. It’s just kind of a vague idea that there’s work I should be doing, now. I’ve been doing okay. I set alarms every forty-two minutes and pretend I’m going to class.

I still haven’t seen a single human. I’ve been looking into the windshields of the cars as I walk and I still haven’t seen a single one. I don’t know who these cars are trying to fool, you can’t drive a car if there’s nobody in the driver’s seat. That’s impossible. But I haven’t seen a single human. Super-smart cars, maybe. I think I’ve heard about those on the news, right? Sometime before everything happened. They’re sending their cars to get groceries.

I walk past the cemetery if I want to walk farther than usual. Usually my walk stops me right by the cemetery. I like ghosts and spooky things so I like living so close to a cemetery. It’s a nice cemetery, too. I don’t go in it very much, the only dead person I know wasn’t buried in the cemetery and I don’t want to intrude on anybody who’s grieving their loved one. Walks aren’t that important and I have a different route. I don’t think I would find anybody in the cemetery, but I’m going to go home anyway. I’ve been walking for a long time.

I think a lot on my walks. My mind wanders. I do it on purpose, actually, I put on my music and let my mind wander while I walk. I like to draw and write stories, and letting my mind wander while I walk is good for inspiration. I’ve been thinking about humans and cars and crows. The crows fly away when I walk near them. I wonder if the humans are like crows and that’s why I can’t see them. Maybe I did something wrong and everybody’s avoiding me. Maybe everyone’s too busy getting groceries to be in their cars. It must be a lot of groceries.

My dad has been away a lot this week. I want to tell him about the bugs I caught in Animal Crossing. I don’t know if I’ve seen him in a while. I thought I said goodbye to him yesterday. Yesterday it was snowing, when I said goodbye. It wasn’t snowing yesterday. I wish he’d get back from whatever he’s doing. I hope he brings me back something from the grocery store.

My brother hasn’t been feeling well. He wants me to leave him alone, I think. I think he said that, and that’s why he’s not in his room. He doesn’t want me to bother him, I think. He hasn’t been feeling well for a long time. He’s such a complainer. There’s mold in the food he left in his room.

Online school is so frustrating. I’m really not good at math, and I tried to message my teacher about an exponents question, but he hasn’t been replying to me. I skipped the math problems, I think, and I can’t find the right website we’re supposed to be doing them on. I can’t find the app on my phone I used to text my teacher. I’m so forgetful. I forgot to text him, I think.

This wouldn’t be happening if everything hadn’t happened. If we were in school, I’d be able to raise my hand and ask the teacher in person about my math question. And there would be other students, too. But we have to stay home. Everyone has to stay home.

I don’t know why we have to stay home. I thought somebody told me. I can’t remember. I know everybody has to stay home. The government said so or something. That’s why I can’t find anybody. Everybody’s at home.

My dad isn’t answering his phone. I want to know when he’ll be home. He’s not supposed to be out. I forgot my dad’s number, I think. I’m going to walk to the grocery store. It’s getting dark out now, but I think I need to go. I’m going to see what all the fuss is about. Everyone’s at the grocery store, that’s why I can’t find them.

There’s not much to see in the suburbs of Long Island. The shapes the buildings make are kind of pretty, though. They’re all warped and blackened, like a giant hand smushed them like play-doh. There’s lots of litter. There’s evidence of humans everywhere. The sun is setting behind the ruined buildings and it looks red and burning. It reminds me of something awful. Maybe a movie I watched, I think, about some awful explosion. The sun is too red and it’s scaring me. I’m going to keep walking to the grocery store.

This parking lot is empty and dirty. There’s lots of litter: plastic water bottle casings, old lighters, trampled wet paper bags, turned over shopping cars, shells of cars, the grocery store sign smashed on the ground. I step on the broken glass because it makes a nice sound. It smells like food, I think. The smell of the food is making my throat hurt, I think. There’s smoke rising from the building. They’re cooking, I think. The sun is so red behind the smoke. It looks like fire.

It looks like fire. There’s so much fire. It’s reminding me of something really bad. I’m really scared, something in my brain is really scared. Something happened and I can’t remember. I don’t want to be at the grocery store anymore. I’m walking home now but my legs aren’t feeling very normal. I wish the sun wouldn’t look so red. Everything is red and warm and smoky. It’s only just April and my nose and fingers are supposed to be pink from the cold.

I’m getting lost, I think. Once I find my way home I can get my dad to hug me so I feel better. I don’t know why I’m crying. Something is making me sad and scared but I can’t remember what it is. Reminds me of a movie, I think. A big scary explosion in a movie. The air smells like smoke. I think I might be upset because of cabin fever. That’s it, I think.

I think I need to go on more walks.

[iriddigital]

[secret-rendezvous1d]

you should write something about the first time H got sick when he was dating Y/N, like for the very first time.

It was only a cold.

But it was the worst case of the common cold. 

His head was pounding behind his eyes and his temples were throbbing above his ears that were infected and oozing with a god-awful infection that made his hearing rather difficult to deal with, his eyes were crusty around his eyelids and sore each time he blinked (and he was pretty certain that he didn’t need to have an appointment with the doctor in order to diagnose himself with conjunctivitis), his nose never seemed to stop running and his throat never seemed to be clear of phlegm and his coffee table was piling up on tissues that he couldn’t find the strength to chuck in the bin. All he wanted to do was go to sleep, nap over the worst of it all and wake up when he could go outside and not feel like he was about to faint or collapse in the rose-bush in his front yard.

The sofa had been his bed for three days and he was lucky that it was so soft and comfortable to lounge upon... or else his back and his neck, and himself in general, would have been in trouble. The television had been his only source of entertainment to keep himself from drifting into a state of loneliness, a blanket being his only warm cover because his bedroom felt too far away to enter and it didn’t seem like he was going back there any time soon. His phone was dead, had been for nearing 24-hours now, and charging it seemed like such a chore, something that felt time-wasting to his chances in sleeping his aches and pains away, and it never dawned on him that people could have been (and most definitely were) worrying.

His friends never worried about him as much as they did when he went ghost. Because it was something he very rarely did. Always made sure to send them a text, even if it was once a week, to tell them how he’d been and what he had been up to and informing them of anything fancy he may be up to and if they wanted a part of it.

His girlfriend wasn’t someone who worried so much about him because he had given off an independent, introverted personality when they first me, but she was someone he made sure to talk to every day, whether it be sending a silly joke or a fact that she would enjoy or a photo of himself because he knew she always loved to see his gorgeous face… he always made sure to talk to her. It was never every second that passed, no, and sometimes they went hours with no message exchange, but they knew that as soon as the other had time to shoot a text, they would. 

His mother, ever since he had sent her an ‘I’m sick’ text message, had been insisting, no stop, that she hopped on a train and spent time with him until he felt better. But he was certain that he could look after himself, that he had everything in his cupboards and that he was strong enough to make himself bowls of soup and cups of tea when he felt hungry or dehydrated. Except, Anne was Anne and he wouldn’t be surprised if she turned up on his doorstep with her arms holding tupperware box of homemade soup. 

And YN was YN and seeing her enter his home, when she came to the realisation that he was sick and held bags full of medicines and tissues and tins of microwave food, would not come as something that startled him.

The gates outside had creaked open upon her arrival and there was an all too familiar beep from the system wired through his house that brought YN to his mind (because no one else knew the number to his front gate... apart from his mother but it couldn’t have been her because she had, only an hour prior, had sent him a photo of a chicken soup recipe from one of her cookery books she had piled in the corner of her counter), the sound of trainers scuffing up the gravel on his driveway were heard behind his sniffles and his chesty coughs because she had never been quiet walking over the stones that paved up to the front door, the rustle of bags made it though the open door and a cheery “hello, handsome. I bring gifts!” echoed around the quiet home. Enough to bring a warm smile to his face.

“Have you died? Something smells rotten in here. Dibs on living here if- oh.”

Her joke came to a halt and the smile that graced her pink lips, big and bright because she’d been excited to see him since she woke up alone that morning, seemed to melt away when she took in the sight before her; the once pristine living room was now something that resembled a bomb site and the sofa, that he had warned her to stay away from if she had red-wine or anything that was most-likely to stain the white cotton, was now homing a boyfriend-shaped lump that she hadn’t seen before.

“Harry?”

“M’not dead. Wish I was though,” he grumbles lowly. The rasp, that had been there long before he’d fallen sick, caught with his words and, even though he didn’t want to move, he craned his neck round to look at her. “You shouldn’t be here. You’ll get sick and I don’t want you having this.”

“Oh, pish posh. I’m a woman. I can handle sickness better than any man can, Harold,” she snickers, kicking off her trainers and leaving them in the hallway beside a pair of black Chelsea boots and a tattered pair of brown boots, with holes in the toes. Her socks, like always, got stuck to the carpet as she stepped into the room, hit with the pungent smell of sickness and sweat and no longer the sweet vanilla smell that would usually invite her in. “What’s the matter?”

Tugging the blanket over his head, he sighed heavily... something he instantly regretted because cough after cough after cough seemed to break through from his chest. Her shopping bags were long forgotten as she reached over and rubbed his back, occasionally patting between his shoulder blades, digging her palm into his spine until he came to a stop.  

“Have a cold,” he murmurs, “don’t want you to get it. Go home, yeah? I’ll come see you when I’m better.”

“You think I’m leaving you in this state? You’ve got to be joking me,” she rolls her eyes and stands up. “I’m your girlfriend, mister. It’s my job to come and look after you when you can’t look after yourself. Remember when you looked after me when I was sick a few weekends ago?”

“That was a hangover,” he huffs, ignoring the kiss on his sweaty forehead as she passed by, and disappeared into his kitchen, “that wasn’t contagious. This is. Highly. I don’t think I can handle the guilt of giving it to you.”

There’s a clatter of pots and pans in the distance and the rustling sound of the hopping bags she brought into his home were loud and filtering into the room adjacent to him. A consistent tutting coming from YN as she searched his cupboards for ingredients.

“Baby-”

“Go back to sleep. I’m going to make you some soup to eat when you wake up, might pop to the pharmacy to grab some painkillers and some Berocca for you because you need to boost that energy back up. Might go back to the shops and get you some tea because that’ll flush it right out of you,” she explains, her head poking from around the archway, “I’ve got this. You go back to sleep, okay? I’m here to look after you.”

He looked at her with a soft look in his eyes, a smile on his chapped lips as she sent him a cheeky wink.

“My mum sent you, didn’t she?”

After a second of hesitation, she shyly nods. 

“She called me earlier this morning and told me you told her you were sick so I went and picked up some supplies from the shops. I didn’t think you were this sick though so I’ll have to go and stock up on some more stuff,” she steps back into the room and hovers above him, running her fingers through his hair and pushing his curls away from his forehead, “just, trust me, yeah? I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise?”

She pinches his nose playfully and nods. 

“Besides, after this and when you make me sick, you owe me one.” xx 

[bunny-lou]

I don't know if you are accepting prompt, but here I am. So, last night at three in the morning, I had an idea: what if Cruella die when Carlos was young (like five or something)? I mean, at first he would be to scared to do anything but later simply survival instinct would push him to action. So, maybe, he start to work something up to protect the house, then he start laying traps around home, creating the ghost of Hell Hall. Basically? Trapmaster!Carlos. Thoughts?

So I wasn’t sure if this was a prompt or something you just wanted my thoughts on and by the time that I took care of all the requests/messages before this and got around to properly reading this idea, it was like two months after you sent it. Instead of being a normal person and asking you, I just kind of took this the first place I thought. Enjoy!

Warning: Very sad Carlos, mentions of abuse and violence. All is in the past, nothing is graphic.

“Come on Princess,” Mal sneers and shoves Evie forward. “You’re not chicken are you?”

“I thought you said you were looking for some excitement from your castle,” Jay mockingly rubs his eyes and whines, “well here you go!”

Evie gulps. “Why aren’t either one of you going inside?”

“Because we’re not the ones who have to prove ourselves to you,” Mal looks at Evie with pure disgust and Evie worries that if she doesn’t do something remarkably brave (or stupid) right now, Mal is going to turn around and never look at her again which means the whole school will never look at her again and even with the entire Isle to explore now, it won’t be any different than being banished to her castle for the rest of her life.

“Fine,” Evie bites her lip and pushes past the iron gate. She’s lived by Hell Hall her whole life, has faint memories of a dark skinned neighbor with wild hair that died right around the time Evie was sent permanently to her castle. Cruella, she knows the name at least, was the owner of this mansion until she had fallen down the steps in her own home.

Jasper and Horace had carried her out. Evie had peered from her bedroom as Cruella’s head lolled from side to side on a broken neck and throughout the years, she watched as Hell Hall fell into shambles.

There’s not a whole lot to watch on the Isle from her bedroom window though, so Evie spent her time gazing at the decrepit mansion. She had seen the moving curtains, caught the traveling light from room to room, noticed the little cares given to the backyard.

She knew Hell Hall was haunted way before she started attending Dragon Hall and heard the rumors of live wires in the yard on an Isle where electricity is unheard of. She knew the place was haunted before being told stories of flying daggers and shards of glass that rained down on Clayton just last week. She knew the place was haunted before being dared by Jay and Mal to find the ghost.

She also knew that the top step of the porch likes to shift a lot - even from her bedroom window, she can see how it moves every few weeks. It’s loose, Evie assumes, so she hops over it.

And there’s the door. The giant, decrepit door to the giant, decrepit mansion that is haunted. The door that Evie will push open and go inside and check out to just to impress a pretty girl who terrifies her and a strong boy who has more muscles than the Evil Queen does eye shadow palettes.

Evie tries to remember how to breathe.

Hell Hall is…surprisingly warm. Evie almost sighs at the rush of heat when the door opens and the chill of the Isle fades from her cheeks. She takes a step inside, turns around to wave at Jay and Mal and show them-.

A knife whizzes past Evie’s head and buries itself in the wooden door frame.

She shrieks, but no one is around to hear because Mal and Jay are gone and Evie is alone, holding her hand to her chest and wheezing in a way that is very unladylike.

Evie has spent most of her life alone, hiding in her castle and rereading etiquette books, but this loneliness aches in a way that she hadn’t anticipated.

Turning to face the knife, still trembling from the vibration of striking the wall (as Evie trembles from the idea of the knife striking her), she catches movement just beyond the couch.

Someone else is here. Hiding.

The ghost.

Evie swallows, moves slowly as she inspects the room. The only light source is from the open doorway she’s standing in, but she can spot ratty furniture, perfectly cleaned floors, an aching staircase that must have killed Cruella.

“Cruella?” Evie whispers toward the couch. Why would a ghost hide? “I’m your…I’m your neighbor. My name is Evie,” she moves gradually, checking every inch for low wires or more knives waiting to become acquainted with her skull. “I’m… Are you okay?”

“How did-?” There’s a series of sharp coughs that make Evie flinch. “How did you get past the last step?” That’s not Cruella’s voice - not that Evie remembers what the woman sounds like, but that’s not a woman.

“Last step of what?”

“Of the porch.” Whoever it is, she still can’t see him, sounds just as bored with her as Jay did, as Mal did. Like Evie is not worth his time. Why is a ghost just as bored with her?

“I didn’t step on it,” she says softly, pieces falling into place in her mind. “That was a trap, wasn’t it? Like the knife?” It’s why the step moved every few months, someone was tinkering with it.

Before Evie can reach the couch (it’s taken a full minute for her to walk ten feet), a head shoots up and glares at her. “Why are you here?”

“I… Oh.” Definitely not Cruella, it’s a man. Er, boy. He’s not a ghost either. He has light skin and curly hair that Evie remembers falling onto a blank face and covering dead eyes as she watched Cruella’s body from her window. “Who are you?”

“I asked first.”

Right, her purpose here: “I wanted to check out Hell Hall?”

The boy doesn’t buy it; he narrows his eyes. “To meet the ghost?”

“Well…yeah.”

“I’m not a ghost.”

“I can see that.”

He shifts under the weight of her gaze. “I just wanted to be left alone.” He’s awkward, but so is she.

Evie wonders when was the last time he had interacted with anyone else? No one knew of his existence. Her own social skills are still lacking from years of neglect. “I’ll leave,” she offers, “I won’t tell anyone that you’re here.” Evie steps backwards, terrified to take her eyes off of him but terrified to move without checking her surroundings in this horror house.

“Wait!” He shouts and they both pause. “You’re my neighbor, right?”

She nods. “I’m Evie.”

“I’m…Carlos,” he whispers to her and tilts his head. “How old are you?”

“15. How old are you…Carlos?”

He cautiously kneels on the couch, hands gripping the back as he watches her through giant eyes. “13.”

“You’re Cruella’s son?”

“And you’re the Evil Queen’s daughter?”

Evie smiles a bit. At least he kind of knows her. “It’s nice to meet you, neighbor.” Against her better judgement in this unfamiliar territory, she curtsies to him.

Carlos grins. “You can sit with me. If you want.”

“Thank you,” she moves toward the couch. “There aren’t like…knives in the cushions, are there?”

He laughs, “no. Oh,” Carlos sobers quickly. “Sorry about the knife earlier. In the doorway. It’s how I keep people out.”

“Why do you need to keep people out?” Evie asks as she sits beside him (after checking the couch for knives with her hands discreetly).

“So they don’t bother me.”

“You live here,” Evie gestures to the wide space, “by yourself?” Evil, at least she always had her mother in her castle. If Evie had been alone for the past ten years, she would have gone crazy.

Carlos nods, “just me.”

“No one knows you exist, do they?”

“Jasper and Horace might have known.” He puts a finger to his lips and thinks, “but they stopped coming around after Cruella died.”

Evie blanches. “Were you here,” She asks before she can smack herself for the invasive question, “like, when Cruella died?” Shit, this is what years of isolation from your peers will do to you.

Carlos gives her a curious look, “of course I was.”

“I’m so sorry,” she croaks, “it must have been awful to see her trip and fall like that.” Evie winces at the very idea. Those dead eyes had haunted her dreams for months afterwards.

“Oh.” The boy tilts his head, “people think she tripped?”

“What?”

Carlos sits back in his seat and hums while Evie can’t take her eyes off of him. “If everyone thinks it was all an accident, that would explain why no one ever came looking for who did it,” he mumbles to himself, then chuckles. “I thought it was something finally working out in my favor.”

“Your mother… She didn’t trip? It wasn’t an accident?”

“No,” Carlos hums, “I pushed her.”

Uh oh. She’s sitting with a psychopath, she needs to leave right now and go back to her castle and never come out, just like her mother always wanted.

“I just wanted her to stop hitting me. I didn’t mean for her to die.”

Evie whines before she can catch the noise. Carlos sounds so lost, so small and young as he hugs his knees to his chest. She always thought she had imagined the late night screaming and the hard smacks that she could hear from her backyard. Evie always thought that her mind had made up the horrible woman Cruella was. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Carlos says and smiles at her - not quite crazy, but not quite sane, “I don’t get hit anymore.”

“I…need to be going,” Evie swallows heavily and grips the couch tightly, almost hoping for a knife to be hidden somewhere she can easily find. “My mother’s getting worried for me.” Oh no, would that upset him? Talking about a mother who cared for her child? Evie braces herself.

“Oh. Okay.” Carlos nods and drums his fingers on the couch. “You, uh…”

“I won’t tell anyone you’re here,” Evie promises and holds up both hands, “I swear. I never met you.”

Carlos grins a little and he looks more like he’s 13 and less like he’s an accidental murderer. “Thanks. But just in case you’re lying, I have more traps in the house. If anyone comes in, they won’t be as lucky as you.”

Oh, there’s the accidental murderer again.

“Noted,” Evie can only whisper as she stands on shaky legs.

“Hey, uh,” Carlos follows her to the door, “if you ever want to come over again…” He scuffs the floor with his boot, “I would be okay with that. As long as it’s just you,” Carlos hurriedly adds.

Before she can even think of the phrase ‘hell no,’ Evie’s taken back by the reflection of herself. The hair is black and white instead of blue and there are a million freckles instead of a clear face, but that’s her expression and her loneliness, her weariness, the same longing for someone else.

Maybe Carlos willingly went into his own isolation and maybe he even caused it, but the familiarity of it all has Evie curling her nails into her palms and nodding her head to his request. “Yeah. Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Carlos lights up with a smile that could shame the sun. “Really? I mean, ahem, yeah,” he nods vigorously, “yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

He doesn’t step into the opening with her and he closes the door as soon as Evie’s out of his house, but when she turns around at the gate, she sees Carlos’ face peeking out of the window and waving at her.

Why is this so long?!

I hope you like it, I think it came out kind of cute! …In a sad way