#except the reporter and daniel's family

[bumblingbee1]

The fact that Daniel actually used to be a Project scientist hits pretty hard. A top scientist, at that. It's like a slap in the face lmao

[lnlightning81]

Ferrari World Champion

Summary: Max was your best friend since you were little kids but then you swapped teams and Max cut you off

Pairing/s: Max Verstappen x Sargeant!Reader, Logan Sargeant x sister!reader, Charles Leclerc x Sargeant!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warning/s: Swearing

Based on this request Masterlist Max Verstappen Masterlist Taglist

After moving to Europe with her brother, she decided that racing was still something that she wanted to continue doing. Being able to find sponsors helped your family as they couldn’t afford both you and Logan to continue karting. Logan also managed to get a few sponsors, which helped even more. 

Being a couple years older than Logan meant that you spent most of your childhood racing alongside the likes of Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, and Lando Norris. It meant that you grew up beside some of the current best drivers in the world. 

You’d been taken into Alpha Tauri in 2021 alongside Yuki Tsunoda. They’d taken a huge risk in two rookies much like Haas had done the same year. Finishing in the top ten in most races except where there were mechanical issues, there was a huge chance you’d be offered the second seat in Red Bull beside Max. 

You and Max had been stuck at the hip for many years. You started on the Red Bull junior team before moving up to being a reserve driver and finally taking the Alpha Tauri team. You and Max were still joined at the hip going to team events together, doing team challenges together. 

But now, in 2024, your contract with Alpha Tauri , newly Visa Cash App RB, was over for the twenty-twenty five seasons and beyond. There was a huge chance that you’d be in the Red Bull seat except for when you were called into Franz’s office to see Christian standing there. 

“You’ve worked really well in the seat for the last three years, but unfortunately we’re not giving you the Red Bull seat” That was all you heard along with Daniel's name. Your heart shattered knowing that you were just being offered a contract extension for VCARB and not a new contract with Red Bull. Just as well, your manager had told you that there were other offers waiting for you after you found out what was happening with your current seat. 

After your meeting with Christian and Franz, you got on the phone to your manager talking through all the offers that were awaiting your decision when he stopped at Ferrari. That was your choice. All these mid table teams wanted you, but Ferrari was leaning for the new top position, and you wanted to win. 

Except that may have been the worst choice ever. Max cut off your relationship, and you avoided each other around Monaco and the paddocks. That was from the end of last season. Now it was the middle of this season, and normally, on your way to the Monaco Grand Prix, you and Max would go together. 

This year, Charles had offered to drive you to the Paddock, which you had accepted because you drove alone once, and it was terrifying. This year alone felt different. It felt like your rookie year except worse. Feeling out of place as a rookie felt completely different to feeling out of place as the person currently leading the drivers championship. 

Walking through the paddock, Charles tried to cheer you up as he had been for many of the races. Logan had also tried his best to cheer up his older sister, but nothing was working. You were missing a part of yourself - Max - your other half, your funnier half. Now, he wouldn’t even defend you during drivers conferences when a reporter said something highly untrue. Charles or Logan being the only ones to defend you. 

Max avoided your eyes as he walked through the Paddock, and you just dipped in between the motorhomes to avoid him, knowing that if you were to look at him you’d cry. Even fans had noticed that you were no longer as close as you used to be as your celebrations on the podiums never involved each other. 

A few months later, you were still winning the Drivers Championship, and it was a championship that was going to go down to the final race. Max is only two or three points behind you. Bets were through the roof and not only between fans, but the drivers had started their own pool in the grid. 

Many drivers did not want a part within the bet with the risk of losing a friend. However, Logan had found you sitting on the ground behind the Ferrari hospitality to avoid cameras. A body sitting next to you, causing you to turn and see who it was turning back to look at the ground when you saw the Williams shirt. 

“Oh so you’re not even looking at your little brother now?” He asked, and you rolled your eyes 

“Logan please. I’m not in the mood” you huffed, and he chuckled a little 

“Tough. I don’t care. Let’s go” He hummed, dragging you to your feet and through to the ice cream stand he had found. 

“This isn’t on my diet. I don’t want it” You turned around, walking back to the Ferrari motorhome without him. 

Life hurts, your heart hurts, and more importantly, you feel really alone in this world. It was hard being the only female driver on the grid, but that wasn’t even the hardest part. The hardest part is that most people stuck with Max and stopped talking to you. 

It was now the last race of the F1 season. You needed to win this to win the championship, but Max was in the same position. Starting on pole meant you had that little extra boost, and with a bad qualifying for Max, he meant he was starting P3 behind Charles, who was under the orders to keep Max behind him for as long as possible. Normally he’d go against team orders like that, but he wanted you to win the championship. To see your smile again. The one he saw for so many years as you karted together. 

The race started brilliantly, gaining a 14-second lead by the last turn as Charles kept everyone in a DRS chain or two

“Verstappen behind” your engineer told you

“Fuck” You muttered back and suddenly your enginner was back in your ear just as you took a sip of water 

“VSC. Virtual Safety Car. Bottas off the track” He explained

“Fuck sake” You exclaimed probably a little too loudly 

“Sorry Y/N” Before you knew it, a full safety car was behind you with only a couple laps left after it went into the pits. You knew you had to get away quicker than Max. Everyone in motorsports wants to win the Drivers Championship, but when you’re this close without a championship, it would make you even more upset to lose it to Max when you’re winning by such few points. 

And then it was in front of you. The chequered flag except Max was right next to you, passing the line at the same point as you to the human eye. 

“Did we do it? Please tell me we did it” you begged 

“They’re checking Y/N. But for now we’re being told for you to complete your cooldown lap” you groaned, waving as you drove around the track on your cooldown lap. You took a drink as you waited for the FIA to come back with the results. Did Max really finish that close to you? 

“That’s P1 Y/N. Pull into Parc Ferme” He calmly said as you cheered very loudly 

“We did it! Oh my god. I’m going to cry. We won!” You shouted across the radio as your engineer laughed 

“I think Fred might be crying on his way there” You laughed as you pulled up in the P1 spot. Getting out of the car after removing the wheel, you didn’t even put the wheel back in the correct spot before you crouched on the front of your car crying. 

Not only had you won the race, but you’d won the drivers championship. Never in a million years did you think you’d win the championship. Walking over to get weighed, it felt like a dream until you jumped into the arms of your team who were all cheering loudly, some even crying with you. You looked over at Max, who had finished P2 before Charles wrapped his arms around you 

“Congrats Champ. You deserve the win. You’ve been through so much, and I couldn’t think of a better world champion for this year” Charles helped to take your helmet off as he stopped your hands due to how much they were shaking 

“Y/N/N. Don’t cry” Logan whispered, wrapping his arms around you tightly. Your family couldn’t make the race, but having Logan here was all you needed. He’d been there through the highs and lows of not only your racing career but life. 

After your interviews, you ended up stepping onto the first place podium. Charles and Fred sprayed you with whatever liquid was in the bottles due to it being Abu Dhabi as the tears fell down your face again. Charles is taking your bottle and wrapping you in a hug. 

Being sat in your hotel room with a hangover, you didn’t expect anyone to be knocking on your door today. Having spent most of the night partying with your team and most of the grid, you didn’t want much social interaction. Expecting it to be Charles or Logan, you didn’t look before opening the door. 

You almost threw the door shut as you saw Max standing on the other side of it. His foot stopped the door as you pushed it shut

“Y/N please listen to me. I need you to hear me out” He sighed, and you shook your head 

“It’s been over a year, and I’m hungover. I’m not listening to anyone, especially you” You spat 

“Seeing you so upset over something I did killed me. I couldn’t look you in the eyes, knowing that you were hurting because of what I did. You’re the champion of the world now Y/N and I’m so sorry about everything I’ve done. I was just too stubborn to apologise because I never thought I’d have to imagine a day that I wasn’t racing on the same team as you. I know VCARB and Alpha Tauri aren’t exactly the same team, but it was close enough. Then Daniel took back the Red Bull seat, and then the next day, you were with Ferrari, and I was hurt. I have no reason to be hurt because it’s your life and not mine, but Liefde, you have been the most important person in my life since we were little kids. Having Logan shout at me most days because you were hurting that’s something I never want to have to go through again. He’s kinda scary for an American” He explained, and you wiped your eyes as you cried, laughing a little at Max’s American comment. 

Max’s arms wrapped around you as soon as he realised you were crying again because of him. He realised that he never wanted to ever make you cry again, and he’d make sure you never did because of him. 

“Congrats World Champ. Don’t cry, I got you” He whispered as his head ducked next to you. His words made you cry more as you realised that they were the words you said to him all those years ago when he won his first World Champion. 

“If anyone else was to take that number one I’d forever want it to be you. You’re such an inspiration to so many women and little girls around the world and to me. Staying strong even though I was being a prick I’d never forgive myself if I was in your position but I do know that this past year has been hell without you and I’d love to have you back as my best friend” You pulled away from Max looking up at him. 

“You’ve got to work for it, Max. You really hurt me and I’ve missed you just as much but I can’t just let you go back into that number one spot in my life again just as easily as you’ve let me into that spot for you” You sighed and he nodded 

“I’ll do whatever it takes to get you back to being my best friend” He smiled 

Y/NSargeant

Y/NSargeant I don't have any words, honestly. Thank you to everyone who has supported me over the last few years. @ Scuderiaferrari , thank you so much for giving me the chance to even compete this season.

tagged : charlesleclerc, scuderiaferrari liked by maxverstappen1, charlesleclerc, scuderiaferrari and 6,234,135 others

view all 1,234,212 comments

LoganSargeant: I love you so much. Thank you for being the best older sister someone could ask for and such an inspiration to so many people, including me ↳ Y/NSargeant: Oh, Logs, you're making me cry

maxverstappen1: Congrats, world champ. Don't cry, I got you. Liked by Y/NSargeant

charlesleclerc: We make a great team. Congrats champion ↳ Y/NSargeant: Thank you so much, Charles. I appreciate you making me so welcome this year even if I wasn't the best teammate most of the year.

user1: Y/N you are so inspirational to so many people. I'm freaking out not only about your win but Max commenting

user2: Y/N, you're so inspirational to so many people, including myself. I started karting when you were a rookie, and I'm so glad I got to see you make history in so many ways.

user3: OH MY GOD. MAX COMMENTED I'M CRYING ARE THE BEST FRIENDS BACK TOGETHER AGAIN?!?!!

user4: CONGRATS WORLD CHAMP. I'M CRYING. I NEVER THOUGHT I'D SEE THE DAY

Taglist

@bearryyy @thewannabewriter @lozzamen3 @barcelonaloverf1life @hiireadstuff @mxdi0 @f1kenzzz @evie-119 @ahgase99

[adventuringblind]

Can I request an angst fic where reader is charles sister and she gets into accident (car accident or like wrong place wring time robbery, anything really) while he's in a race (lorenzo, arthur and their mother is with them) and xavi (🤢) is the one who answers charles' phone and decided not to say anything even after charles finishes the race and then the entire leclerc family find out after a reporter tells charles that "your nerves must be made of steel" and then everyone is confused and the reporter is all like "did no one tell you about your sister?" And like full angst when they find out that the accident hurt reader really bad (has problems with sight or maybe walking permanently, only if you're comfortable writing that) end it however you want, only if you want and if you are comfortable with this kind of stuff

Like Steel

Platonic!charles Leclerc x Sister!Reader

Genre: angst to fluff

Summary: Charles and his twin sister have always been close. Even being able to sense when something is wrong with the other. When Charles get confirmation after a race he was right, someone is to blame for his not knowing.

Warnings: car accidents, driving under the influence, hospitals

Notes: Xavi needs to get fired so my boy can have a chance. Also I don’t care if people smoke weed, but the amount of times I’ve almost been hit because someone was hotboxing their car is absolutely ridiculous.

Masterlist

To say Charles is close with his twin is an understatement. They are practically glued at the hip. They know what the other is thinking or feeling before any communication is had. Their connection to each other was concerning at first. But anyone could see that the Leclerc twins are just close.

Charles had been there through all of her breakups. Both with guys he did and didn’t like. She had been there through every step in his racing career.

It’s funny to say steps now, he thinks. Since his sister can no longer take any.

She’d gotten a job as the admin for the Ferrari instagram. She loved chasing around Charles and Carlos so the fans could see what they got up to in their down time.

She has a contagious smile that everyone can’t help but love. Her and Daniel were menaces to the paddock while he did media things for Redbull.

She’d been on her way to the paddock for her brothers home race. Monaco was the only race on the calendar where she got to wake up at home to go to work in the morning. She had a few PR things to do around the city first before she could head to the track. So she’d left pretty early. Deciding to walk since everything is so close together.

Charles knew she hated being late. Maybe that’s why the alarm bells were going off before he got in the car.

He’d waiting for her to show at the meetings. Then again while he was getting ready. He search before he got into his car. Then looked for her when her when he got to his grid box.

He felt it in the pit of his stomach that something had happened.

He’d managed to end the race in in first. Something that didn’t happen often so he was ecstatic. The thing every driver craves was once again in his hands. His family was there when he got out of his car. All except the one person he wanted to celebrate with most. Maybe she’d just gotten caught up in her duties?

It was his turn to interview. The smile on his face and cheers of the crowd made the endorphins in his brain skyrocket.

“Congratulations Charles! You must have nerves like steel out there!”

Nerves? Why nerves? He’s not nervous.

The reporter caught onto his confusion. “We’re you not made aware of your sister?”

“No what happened? Where is she?”

The reporter signaled to turn the camera elsewhere. Then walked to Charles to let him know in a normal conversation fashion. He’s grateful because not many would do that. “She was hit by a car this morning and is in the hospital.”

His heart sank. He looked to his family and by their shocked expressions they also didn’t know.

“Your race engineer Xavi said he got word off it right before the race. We figured you’d been told already. I’m sorry for the mix-up.”

“No it’s okay that’s not on you.” The he’s walking away. His team doesn’t try to stop him and he tells Carlos to stand in his place on the podium. He’s lost to many people already. He refuses to also lose his sister.

He doesn’t remember the car ride. Only the angry feeling knowing at his insides. He saw the call Xavi had answered in his call log. They didn’t call anyone else since technically, he picked up.

The rage towards his race engineer is not helping him think clearly. If she dies and Charles isn't there for her, he's never going to forgive himself.

~

He broke.

He saw her in the bed with machines and tubes everywhere, and he broke. He sobbed into his mother's arms. Lorenzo and Aruther trying to console each other next to them.

It's ridiculous, he thinks, how one person can attract so much death. Maybe it's to soon to say she's dead but by the look of things, she's halfway there.

He stays with her. Her hurts for her. Their stupidly strong connection makes this all the more difficult.

Pascale has forced him to leave her bedside on multiple occasions. But he always goes begrudgingly and under the stipulation that someone will get him if there are any updates.

It’s a month before she finally wakes up. Coughing and panicking. Charles is at her side immediately. Fate is certainly on his side today.

“What happened?” She asks after she could finally talk again. Though her voice is raspy and dry.

“You were walking to the track and got hit by a car. They were smoking marijuana so they didn’t see you.” Oh how Charles raged about that too when he found out. The stupidity of people sometimes amazes him.

The next words out of her mouth make him think that fate is just playing games with him at some point.

“Charlie, I can’t feel my legs.”

~

Turns out the car they hit her shattered a part of her spine, leaving her paralyzed. Now bound to a wheelchair.

Charles had to go back to traveling while she was doing physical therapy. She’s doing her best to learn how to do life now with her new set of circumstances. She did think it was funny getting to zoom around in her wheelchair and whizzing past her brother.

Her first appearance back at the paddock is a surprise to all. Mainly because she intended it to be that way.

She navigates down the busy path towards the Ferrari hospitality, her mother trying to keep up.

She missed being here. Seeing everyone so excited about the sport.

She came to a skidding halt at the door. Curse the stairs. Why don't they have a ramp? She'll be having words with Charles about this later.

"Maman! Can you help me please!"

It takes effort. She's still not quite used to everything but she's learning.

She successfully gets inside the door and into the main area of hospitality. Hugs greet her as some of the staff make their way over.

Now, the next part of this plan. Her mother calls Charles and puts it on speaker.

"Hello?"

"Charlie, I just got word about your sister. I'm in hospitality-" She puts on her best worried parent voice.

"I'm on my way."

It takes approximately three minutes, and Charles is barreling through the door of security. His oblivieness becomes obvious as he misses her sitting in the middle of the room and is worriedly hugging his mom and asking her frantic questions.

"Is she- why are you laughing?"

Pascale is crying from laughing so hard. She gestures to where her daughter is waving and trying to get her brothers attention.

"Oh my god. You scared me so bad! Don't ever do that again!" He scolds them both. Then her embraces his sister.

"I'm excited to see you here!"

"Any news about Xavi?"

"He finally quit a couple days ago. I basically ignored him the last few races."

"And you've been doing better? You've won twice this month."

"And if I ever see him again, I'll make sure he never wants to be near an F1 car again."

[count-on-mi]

Interactive Story Character List

Im Nayeon

Y/N’s ex-girlfriend

Dated with Y/N since college, break up recently. (Now unofficially going back with OC)

Roommate with Jeongyeon, living on the other side of the city

Haven't forgive Y/N and Momo at all

Sexual Relationships with Y/N: Yes

Yoo Jeongyeon

Nayeon’s roomate and collegue

Best friend of Nayeon, would call honey each other

Hate Y/N, as Y/N cheated on Nayeon

Doesn't believe Men's cock can satisfy woman

Surprised by the size of Y/N's cock, like to learn from Y/N how to please Nayeon on bed

Love having lesbian sex with Nayeon

Sexual Relationships with Y/N: No

Hirai Momo

Y/N’s secret Lover

Nayeon’s ex-personal trainer and current persoanl trainer for Y/N

Worrying Myoui's would force Y/N to leave her

False pregency before, still can't accept the fact that she never pregnant

Sexual Relationships with Y/N: Yes

Minatozaki Sana

Y/N’s subordinate and cum-slut

Seduce Y/N to fuck her after she knows the relationships of Y/N and Mina

Possible Public Sex Kink

Feel Guilty after using by others and now dedicated to Y/N only, reporting to Y/N's room everyday.

Loves Y/N secretly, but don't want to hurt Mina.

Sexual Relationships with Y/N: Yes

Park Jihyo

One of Y/N’s girlfriend

First meet Y/N as friends on work out, Y/N adopted her as she want to divorce with her husbund, Daniel.

Have sex with Y/N after she moved in.

In a relationship with Y/N after divorce Daniel, her family accepted Y/N already

Live with Y/N after returning from Seoul, own half of the house after the renovation

Wants to have kids with Y/N

Sexual Relationships with Y/N: Yes

Myoui Mina

Y/N’s secretary and fiance, Y/N's main girl for now

From the largest Japanese corporation and family, Myoui's.

Virginity taken by Y/N on the interview

Fallen to Y/N since then (Stockholm syndrome), she has quit for a while, but Y/N's sincerely touched her

No strong feelings for Y/N having other girlfriends, except Sana will be treated as betrayal and Jihyo is the biggest competitor

Pregnancy kick, want to born the kid before Jihyo

Special feelings toward Chaeyoung

Currently in Japan

Sexual Relationships with Y/N: Yes

Kim Dahyun

Y/N’s step-sisters, raised by Y/N since high school

Have a crush on Y/N since then

Jealous Y/N treats Chaeyoung better, knows Y/N's sexual relationship with Chaeyoung

Confessed to Y/N, confused and angry about Y/N still having girlfriend (Momo) outside

Now living alone on Mina's house

Y/N took her virginity on a threesome with Chaeyoung

Likes to play with Y/N's nipple

Sexual Relationships with Y/N: Yes

Son Chaeyoung

Y/N’s step-sisters, raised by Y/N since high school

Virginity taken by Y/N before the story starts and maintaining a sexual relationship with Y/N, loves rough sex and being submissive

Currently live in the dorm of the university and would stay in Y/N’s home for holiday.

First woman of OC to pregnant (Still a secret for now)

Sexual Relationships with Y/N: Yes

Chou Tzuyu

Intern at Y/N’s team, another cum-slut for Y/N privately

The first one to spot Y/N’s relationships with Sana and Mina

Have showcased her seducing skills to Y/N, the woman that make Y/N turned on the most.

Likes to observe how Y/N and Sana have sex in the office, which turns on Y/N more

Calling Y/N as daddy and Sana as Mommy, promised by Y/N to take her virginity in a romentic way

Sexual Relationships with Y/N: No

[disillusioneddanny]

Doodles on the Palms of our Hands Day 2 Soulmates

Damian gave his soulmate an annoyed look. “I do not like a lot of people, you are an exception to this. But if you do not leave me alone for five minutes, I will change my mind,” he said. Danny just stared up at him with the prettiest smile that Damian had ever seen. The vigilante just rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, you are cute, Daniel. Just stop smiling at me like that.”

“How am I smiling at you?” Danny asked, moving to wrap his arms around Damian’s waist, causing the other boy to just let out a groan of annoyance. After years of only being able to talk to one another through the drawings on their palms, the two had finally met. 

Damian had already known that Daniel was like a desperate, attention loving puppy but he hadn’t realized just how attention starved he was until they finally met. Their meeting last week had actually been quite adorable if Damian was going to be honest. 

The two had planned on their first meeting when Danny moved to Gotham City for college. The eighteen year old had managed to get a pretty decent scholarship for the school’s sociology program. They had been planning the meeting for months now and then it had finally happened.

For as long as Damian could remember he had gotten small doodles and notes written onto the palm of his hand by a boy who lived on the other side of the world. Everyone had soulmates somewhere in the world and each soulmate had a unique identifier to find theirs. The first few years, Damian had done everything he could to ignore the notes. He was an assassin, he didn’t have time for a soulmate. Besides, as his mother had made sure to remind him, soul mates were a waste of time and not conducive to their goals. 

Then, Damian had moved in with his father at ten years old. Father had encouraged him to start writing back to his soulmate, to introduce himself to the boy who drew stars and planets into the palm of Damian’s hand. 

“You are a wonderful writer,” Damian had initially written in small cursive. 

Almost immediately Damian had gotten his response in a sloppy scrawl. “You finally wrote back!”

From there, Damian was hooked. He and Danny wrote to one another every day until one day Danny had written a phone number on his hand for Damian. Writing turned to texting which then turned to phone calls which then turned to face time calls. The two found themselves speaking every single day and Damian found himself falling deeper and deeper in love with the boy who lived in sleepy Amity Park. In that time, Damian had learned everything about Daniel, and Daniel had learned everything about Damian. 

Damian had been there for his soulmate when Danny had died and come back, he had been there for him when he had learned he was going to become the King of the Infinite Realms after he had defeated one of his rogues. There was not a single thing that Damian did not know about Danny. Just as there was not a single thing that Danny did not know about Damian. He knew of Damian’s past with the League, he knew the Batman secret, Danny knew it all. 

And it was nice. Damian liked that there was someone that he could talk to about everything that he had gone through without fear of being treated differently because of it. Danny accepted him, all of him, and he loved Damian for who he was regardless of the things that he had done. He had quickly become Damian’s closest confidant. 

“You know what you are doing, Beloved,” Damian said with a chuckle. “I am almost finished with typing up this report for my patrols for last night and then we can go.”

“I’m so excited,” Danny exclaimed, hugging Damian tight. Damian had managed to get his father’s height and at eighteen years old he stood at a solid six foot two. Whereas Danny stayed at a short five foot six. Damian thought it was adorable how much his boyfriend looked like what Jon had told him was a twink. 

“You are just meeting my family, Danny,” Damian said with a chuckle before he bent down and pressed a soft kiss to Danny’s smiling mouth. Danny giggled and kissed him again, before he lifted Damian in the air and spun him around. Damian just gave him a fond laugh and swatted his soulmate’s shoulder. “Put me down.”

Damian did have to admit, Danny’s ghost abilities did make things very interesting. “Can we fly there?” Danny asked. “I’ve been wanting to fly through Gotham since I got here and I haven’t gotten the chance! I’ve been too scared of your dad getting mad at me for doing it. I know the no metas rule isn’t real but he still doesn’t like them very much and sure, I’m not actually a meta, I mean being dead is a medical condition but still, I have powers and I know what that makes it look like.”

“Beloved, you’re rambling. Yes, we can fly. I have been interested in seeing what it feels like flying with you compared to flying with Jon,” Damian said as Danny set him back down. “Five minutes,” he said, pressing his finger to Danny’s lips before he turned back to his laptop. The two were currently in Damian’s apartment. Technically, Danny had a dorm room but they quickly realized after meeting in person that Danny would be spending the majority of his free time in Damian’s apartment. 

They already knew that they were romantically attracted to one another through their years of talking. And to an extent, Damian knew that he was physically attracted to Danny just through seeing his photographs and from facetime. But seeing Danny in person, seeing how small and slim the boy was? It was completely different than he had initially thought. 

Danny was just this small, lithe eighteen year old and Damian knew that Danny could also throw him the length of a football field without even breaking a sweat. It was attractive. 

It was beyond attractive, in all honesty. 

It was also nice to know that his soulmate would be able to handle himself in case anything happened, especially with how dangerous it could get in Gotham. Danny sat beside his soulmate wiggling slightly in excitement as he waited for Damian to complete his work before the vigilante finally shut his laptop and turned to his partner. 

“Ready?” Danny asked hopefully. 

Damian stood and took Danny’s hand in his. “Ready,” he said before his partner let out an excited squeal and changed forms. His soft, inky black hair changed to gravity defying white, blue eyes turned to Lazarus Green, and his usually pale white skin took on an unearthly blue hue. He looked beautiful. 

“You’re gonna love flying with me, Dami, it’s so much fun,” Danny told him before he pulled Damian in for another kiss. Damian wrapped his arms around Danny’s waist and deepened the kiss hungrily, biting at Danny’s bottom lip softly before the other allowed him access. He slipped his tongue into Danny’s mouth and ran it along the other’s sharp teeth slowly, taking his time to explore every crevice of his lover’s mouth. Danny melted into him, pressing himself as close to Damian as he could. Eventually, Damian pulled away and smiled at the dazed look on his soulmate’s face. 

“Shall we go?” He suggested. Danny just nodded his head, eyes glued to Damian’s mouth before he turned the two of them intangible and invisible. Damian shuddered at the cold feeling that slowly slunk down his body. It felt as though someone had slowly poured cold water over the top of his head. Danny wrapped his arms tight around Damian’s waist and took off, the couple flying through the ceiling of the apartment and multiple stories before they took to the air. 

It was definitely different compared to when he would fly with Jon. Jon’s flying felt like he was constantly fighting gravity to stay in the air. With Danny, it felt as though gravity didn’t even matter, like it did not exist. His flying seemed to defy the laws of physics altogether. 

It was exhilarating. Especially as Danny started to gain speed and the couple flew through multiple buildings, nothing really seemed to get in Danny’s way as he flew. Damian smiled at his lover, his eyes sparkling in the sun. He couldn’t believe just how lucky he had gotten with his soulmate. 

[ailithnight]

After this chapter, I will no longer be doing a taglist. Sorry folks, there's just too many of y'all and I'm on mobile. Please subscribe on AO3 for updates, or follow the tag A King in Arkham.

A King in Arkham

Chapter 4

AO3 Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Danny. I understand you don't want to go with your godfather. Is there a reason for that?

Can't go with Vlad!

If you know something we don't about him, you need to tell us. Otherwise he will win custody.

It's.. He'll.. he'll make me.. turn me.. his fault!

What's his fault, Danny?

His fault. All his. All.. My.. no, my fault. It's all my fault...

Danny?

IT'S MY FAULT! I KILLED THEM! ALL DEAD! Because of me...

Now Danny, I'm sure that's not true. What happened at the Nasty Burger-

I made it happen.

Corporate negligence-

He knew. I knew. Dan knew what would happen. Dan made it happen. He knew the sauce was gonna blow. He knew Lancer would arrange the meeting there. He cheated. He lured them there. He bound them up so they couldn't escape and ran the time out until they exploded! Dan did that and Dan was me, so I did that.

Daniel...?

I murdered them. I murdered everyone. 

Da-

IT'S ALL MY FAU- *static*

.

Tim started talking after the audio cut to static.

"What you just heard is the last, partially recovered therapy session of Danny's in Chicago. The cameras were beyond salvaging. No one except Danny knows what happened after the audio cuts. What is known is that nearby witnesses heard what they claim sounded like a 'screaming moan' coming from the therapy room. When doctors and staff went to check; the therapist Mrs. Alders was slumped against the wall, appearing to have been forcefully pushed, with minor head trauma. Danny was curled up on the other side of the room, panicking and muttering about a Dan.

While Mrs. Alders mostly recovered from the incident, she does not know how she ended up slammed against the wall. Once this audio was recovered, it was turned over to the police. Given the severity of the... confession... in conjunction with the apparent assault, the courts decided to move Danny to an asylum for the criminally insane." Tim paused in the debrief, letting the information sink in. After a moment, Duke raised his hand. Jason scoffed at the action.

"This ain't kindergarten kid, say your bit."

"I just, that explains why an asylum in general. But why Arkham?" Tim nodded, pulling up a picture of a document.

"Kid's godfather, business tycoon and multimillionaire, Vlad Masters. Insisted that if his godson should have to go to an asylum, he'll go to the- and I quote- 'Best in the country.' Made a deal with the state that he'll foot the bill while he continues fighting for custody. Apparently didn't do his research enough to know that 'Best Known' and 'Best' are not the same." Bruce had the next question.

"So, Master's doesn't have custody yet?"

"Nope." Tim popped his 'p', pulling up more documents. Investigative reports. "Given Danny's reactions to him, CPS started investigating. Found a lot of shady shit. Narcissism, anger issues, control issues, coercion tactics. 

One agent said he tried to bribe her with a rather large sum of money, which she might have taken if she wasn't well enough off from a family inheritance and mostly doing this work for the kids. Of course, same agent also said he had 'Rancid vibes' and 'tried to posses' her, but her 'Grammy's necklace protected her' so her credibility was deemed iffy.

Still, there's enough there that it's unlikely Masters will be able to gain custody any time soon. So if Gotham's favorite serial adopter with a good track record for helping troubled kids, Brucie Wayne, were to step in..." Tim's smirk is infectious and makes its way around the table. Bruce's lips twitch ver briefly into a fond smile, before dropping back into a frown.

"What do you make of the... confession?" Jason doesn't even try to hold in his groan.

"Seriously, B? It was survivor's guilt or some kind of psychotic episode or something." Damian frowns.

"I would not discredit him so quickly, Hood. After all, his ghosts are real apparently."

"Hnn." Bruce gets that look on his face. The almost constipated frown that means he is going to have to do something unpleasant like host a gala or attend a business meeting or, "I will have to call Constantine to verify what the entity we are dealing with is." 

Jason lets out a gleeful snort. "Have fun with that one, B. In the mean time can I go break our kid out yet or what?"

"Actually, Hood," Jason turns a glare on Tim, who is once again holding his hands up placatingly. "That still leaves us with the issue of making him an escapee and you an accomplice."

"Well fuckin Brucie Wayne can't exactly just walk up to Arkham and ask if they've got any blue eyed black haired boys for him to adopt."

"Not exactly what I'm suggesting here."  Batman sighs.

"What are you suggesting." Tim pulls out a case he had tucked under the desk, a truly devious smirk painted across his face.

"Just a little temporary theft. Only long enough to put the kid's face on the news for Brucie to stumble across." He opens the case, sliding it over to Jason. Inside, a replica of a relic from Tim's own past; resized to fit his bigger, broader brother. "You remember Red X, don't you?" 

The green that had been tinting Jason's vision the whole meeting finally subsides, giving way to wicked mirth.

"Oh, hell yes." 

Batman sighs.

.

"You don't get it do you? I'm still here. I still exist. That means you still turn into me."

Another night, another nightmare of a memory jolting Danny back into the waking world. His chest is tight, a high whine suppressing itself in the back of his throat. Danny's eyes dart around his room, searching for the shadowy void of his most frequent visitor. But Spectra isn't there tonight. She hasn't come back since she was seen by Banana Bat. 

It's strange. Danny had gotten used to waking up with her there, towering over him, shadowy clawed hand resting somewhere on his body as she feasted on his misery. He didn't mind, really. He had plenty to give and she didn't even rough him up too bad. Just enough to keep the psyches concerned. The last 3 days without her presence had been... not lonely. Danny was already lonely. But emptier. Like the one good thing his continued existence was doing for someone had been ripped away.

Truly, Danny felt he had nothing left in this world. Nothing to give, nothing to gain. But he couldn't die. Couldn't unleash full ghost Phantom on the world again. That's what created Dan. No, this was what he had to give. All he had to give. To stay human so that Dan never becomes ghost.  To live, as the least burden he could be, so that Dan never died. 

Clockwork must have known what would happen if Danny fully died. That must be why he spared him. The Observants sentenced Danny to death. But Clockwork was smarter. He sentenced Danny to life. And really, it's such a small price to pay for the sins of his other self. 

Despite what the others say, Arkham isn't hell. The only issue Danny's had was the clown and that's not really anyone's fault. It's just, Danny looked at the Joker and he saw Freakshow. And he saw that stupid staff. And he heard that grating laugh. And all he could think about was how that was the only thing that could still turn him into Dan. If the clown took control again. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't! Not becoming a Dan, not becoming a problem; that's all he could do now! He couldn't he couldn't he couldn't...

Danny was broken out of his spiraling thoughts by the now familiar buzzing echoing clanging sound of another break out. He closed his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. Then, suddenly, he was lifted up, hoisted onto someone's shoulders in a fireman's carry. 

"Damn kid, do you weigh anything?" 

Danny's eyes flew open, his body subconsciously tensed for a fight Danny wouldn't actually fight. The voice, clearly modulated, sounded high and breezy. His head turned to look at the person now forcefully evicting him from his room. Black body suit. White mask. Red slashes in a stylized X. Built like his Dad... Danny had no idea who this was.

For a moment, Danny felt a twinge of fear. He had no idea who this was. They obviously weren't with Arkham. They had just stolen him from his room and, holy shit they were flying now. No. Not flying, grappling. And running. Moving very fast towards the exit. With Danny. For unknown reasons. 

Holy shit, someone was kidnapping a teenager from an insane asylum. That, probably wasn't good. Any normal or sane person would be scared for their health and wellbeing. But, well... Danny was hardly normal. And sane was becoming increasingly questionable. 

And this guy, well he didn't trigger Danny's ghost sense. No chilly breath escaping his mouth. So he was human, not a ghost. It's not like a human could kill Danny. Not with his ghostly healing factor. Sure, they could make his life a living hell. Beat him, violate him, enslave him. But a human couldn't turn him into Dan so... Danny doesn't think he really cares. 

"Um, why are you carrying me?"

"Taking you out of here." 

"Clearly, I meant why?"

"Owe someone a favor." That was mildly concerning. Danny could think of one person who would stoop to this.

"Did Vlad send you?"

"Master's? Nope. He couldn't afford my services."

"Oh. Okay." As long as it wasn't Vlad. They were almost to the main gate now. There was screaming behind them, now. Danny loomed behind them as the person grappled up the wall and vaulted them over. Danny caught the barest glimpse of the twink in a burlap sack mask striding out the door, leaving a noxious cloud in his wake.

Then they're gone, grappling to then moving across rooftops. It's not a bad feeling. Kinda fun even. Flying as a ghost was nice. Really nice. But different from this. Gravity literally didn't touch you if you didn't want it too. But this? Danny could feel the pull of the earth, the force of every swing. Gravity was still there, exerting its influence, but they were defying it. 

For a tiny moment, Danny felt the ghost of a smile on his lips. The good feeling was fleeting, like all his feelings these days. But it was there and it was enough to shock a small "Oh." from Danny.

"Oh what, runt?"

"Nothing, just. Never grappled before. S'nice."

"Oh." It was such a soft thing, Danny once more found himself pondering the intentions of his kidnapper. 

"Do I get to know where we're going?"

"Safe house for the night. I'm your baby sitter."

"And tomorrow?"

"We'll see."

"...Okay."

.

The next morning, Vicki Vale stumbles across the story of her career (so far) sitting dazed and confused in her office. A prepubescent boy in an oversized Arkham uniform? The day after a breakout where Scarecrow and only one other inmate escaped? Oh this is bound to sell.

Okay, I know the show pretty heavily implies that Teen Titans Robin us Dick.

But

What if it was Tim?

[inchidentally]

https://www(.)autosport(.)com/f1/news/stella-singles-out-exceptional-japan-f1-podium-as-piastris-2023-highlight-/10559510/

I think you've posted about Andrea Stella's relationships with Lando and Oscar before and I've been thinking about this and just needed to share my thoughts with someone.

when Oscar talks about his best weekends, its always Qatar where he felt like he really maximized his result and SIlverstone which he talks about as one of his most complete performances despite missing that podium.

When it comes to Japan and his first podium, it's like he's happy with the result and what that meant for the team, but it's not actually a weekend he reflects on super positively in terms of his race. I feel like he's never the one bringing it up, it's always like a reporter being like "and Japan?" and he's just like "yeah I guess that was nice too", but he doesn't really talk about it as a personal highlight (even though I'm sure he isn't like... upset over it, just not a performace he rates as his strongest).

all that to say I love that Andrea actually picks out his qualifying performace there as a highlight of his season, because it was! it just feels really subtlely supportive of him to bring up a moment that Oscar doesn't really talk about himself, and kind of got lost in all the comparisons or race pace between him and Lando.

idk i just needed to tell someone this lol

oh anon and I am so glad you shared it with me bc I wanna go offfff

truly this quote is the kind of thing I could see making Oscar feel emotional about and puff up with pride. it's the sort of meticulous score card that his big brained A-levels overachieving ass must eat up with a spoon:

"In terms of speed, in terms of capacity to learn very rapidly, in terms of collaborating with his engineers and extracting the information that he needs to grow so rapidly, in terms of his own awareness of where he is in the various stages to go from: ‘I know nothing about this track, first time in a Formula 1 car' to being P2 on the grid. And also the way he keeps himself calm, controlled – therefore always capitalising on his potential because he doesn’t create any unnecessary stress - that’s quite exceptional. And I can see why he was so successful in junior categories."

and god, the stern but loving dad role Andrea has taken with Lando and Oscar. especially when you think from Oscar's perspective how he was coming into a team fresh off of a dramatic court case and filling a seat that everyone - including Lando - was still deep in mourning over. from what I remember Oscar's "promo" by McLaren was more like something they'd do to announce a new reserve driver rather than Lando's new teammate. especially considering the weeks of emotionally overwrought posts and content about Daniel leaving. I'm guessing a lot of that had to do with trying to mitigate the comment sections turning rancid on any Oscar content (and I'm being generous saying that). but there was exceptionally low fanfare attending Oscar's arrival, especially considering him having such a scorching record coming up to F1.

so for someone like Andrea to come into his new role and choose to watch Oscar so closely when Oscar was honestly sort of - either ignored or still hated bc of Daniel and Alpine - during those races before Silverstone has come good in the huge revolution of public opinion about Oscar. Lando was already comfortably at home and only needed a little managing. side note I love how many times in challenges Lando would pretend to pout and say "Andrea said there has to be balance and fairness between teammates sooooo" akgfkasgs he had Lando's number already <3

but for all that Oscar has been a trooper about having to kind of operate without the kind of consistent found family that Lando has and dealt with the press and DTS dutch angle drama interviews in such a mature way idk. I feel like sometimes Oscar sees himself as only existing as one of the drivers once he's actually in the car. he's never found that footing of becoming one of the F1 personalities the way that even Logan has (thank you Williams and thank you Alex).

a lot of the time you could confuse Oscar's presence in the garage and the paddock with another engineer. and tbh when you consider how much of an online meme he was in F2 and F3 and how strong his twitter game was it definitely feels like he's intentionally suppressing his personality to maybe ? just get through his rookie F1 season with as little drama as possible. I've gone on and on and on abt how Prema Oscar would have made the perfect fan favorite dynamic with Lando the same way he was with Arthur or Robert. but Oscar's personality has only come out on camera a few times and otherwise he just watches Lando or stiffly gets through his own parts.

that's why I had to compile these instances of Andrea seeking Oscar out and being so incredibly tender with him. Lando is the always beloved child at McLaren and he absolutely earned that. but he was also definitely thrown by Oscar choosing to go so quiet and under the radar - I don't think in a bad way, but I will be interested to see the clips from DTS that haven't been chopped to hell so we can get a better glimpse of that.

but someone in higher authority than Lando needed to go out of their way to regularly remind Oscar that yes, he's One of The Big Boys and yes, McLaren is his home now. he has as much right as the rest of the drivers all feel to stand up and ask for what they want and speak for themselves and even cause a little trouble if they feel they need to. an F1 grid are always drama queens to some degree because they're basically the lead singers of a band. they had to as Lando rightly said "be fairly selfish" to get to their rarefied position. not that they're bad people at all, just that they have to treat themselves as of utmost importance in order to achieve the performance and mentality to even get a shot at F1. but not only is Oscar not naturally like that (his forms of self-care involve sleep and seeing friends lol) he certainly wasn't going to stir things up anymore than he already had.

but! what Oscar does have is incredible courage, unflappable calm and towering competitiveness. like I said once he gets in the car his focused self-belief overtakes everything else. the amount of times his rookie season it was down solely to the car or to other drivers that resulted in taking him out of a race or knocking him down the grid as opposed to pure rookie error or personal mistakes is amazing. and guess who said that back in August:

"For us being in this journey with Oscar, it makes it even more exciting, because it was very clear right from the start – the level of talent.

“Even the analytical behaviour, looking at things, trying to learn, and at the same time always remaining very calm. He is able to absorb things, execute things, always staying very calm, which I think is a strong point of Oscar.”

and guess who gives us some of the best insights to the kind of driver Oscar is when no one else can? (apart from sexy daddy Mark ofc)

“I think the quality which, if you want, maybe one of the key enablers [of] why he can grow so rapidly is just the man beyond the driver,” Stella told GP Blog. “He’s so calm. He’s so good at keeping himself in a status in which he can use the best of his talent.

“I don’t have that quality, I have to think very actively about ‘What am I thinking? What are my emotions?’ I have to think about my psychology to actively keep myself in the most productive state. For Oscar, this seems to come quite naturally. That’s the main enabler.

“I think he, potentially, has a natural gift. Or, maybe he worked throughout his young career through that. I don’t know. But, certainly, he’s remarkable. And even when I’ve seen great drivers currently or in the past, all of them sort of sometimes underperformed because they don’t stay in the status in which they give their best. I think, for Oscar, this is quite natural.”

oh and guess who also tells us the most about the fact that Lando has taken his role as established driver and leader seriously wrt Oscar and how well they've complemented each other?

“So Lando can say ‘ok, we can do this in this corner’, and so on. And likewise, obviously, for Oscar with Lando. The second element, which is remarkable this year, is how similar the comments are between the two drivers.

“And this is not only in the off-line debriefings, but it's also when the drivers come back after they run the first run during a session. They actually use the same terminology, like it looks like they are in communication before reporting their feedback.”

papa is giving his boys their props!! they did him proud and he's not going to hold back on telling the world!

and I even love how Lando and Oscar both choose Silverstone without any hesitation as their favorite race of 2023 and that Lando said how much Oscar deserved to be up there with him. that's exactly what Andrea had instilled in them and shows his values have fully sunk in.

you're absolutely right anon, we should never forget that Andrea is the one who went to Oscar when Oscar needed it and that Andrea established the team culture that has let someone like Oscar thrive at the same time as someone so different from him like Lando.

.

.

articles sourced:

[wardenparker]

Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 6

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.    

Rating: M for Mature. But as always this blog is 18+! Word Count: 9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* This is just one big ol’ chapter full of various kinds of angst. Wholesome points for Bobby Rogers being a very good kid. Summary: As the gap widens between you and Jack, Diana’s loyalty shifts toward your budding friendship. Notes: Tensions are rising as spring gets closer and Diana is stirring the pot 😂 I just adore her. This chapter is a great little glimpse into the Rogers family and how they weave their way around the relationship between you and Jack.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Epilogue

Jack can’t explain it, but he’s listless after the conversation with you. Wandering slightly as he leaves your porch and shoving his hands in his pockets as his boots slap along the gravel pathway towards the small pond on the property. Wondering why he feels like he’s done something wrong. The way that you had looked at him with your heart in your eyes and then watching it seemingly break rubbed him the wrong way. Tex had slept with you. He doesn’t understand why it sticks in his craw but it does. He wants you, physically, but he won’t touch you because of the damn ink on his skin, the invisible threads that seem to tie you together. But he shouldn’t care that Tex had spent the night in your bed. However, he can’t get the image out of his head and he doesn’t like it. Not at all. Sighing to himself, he shakes his head. Scoffing quietly at his ridiculousness. “Damn fool.” He huffs, looking out over the water.

The small pond reflects nothing but serene moonlight back at him, the young folks out walking through the green of the neighborhood or sitting in the gazebo too far from its surface to interrupt his ruminations. A few blocks away, Tex is drinking off his frustration while he packs, loud music enough to have his bookshelves vibrating but not a hint of it leaking out into the street. On the street, everything is peaceful and perfect. It’s the picture of serenity and always is - Statesman arguments happen behind closed doors because your neighbors might not have high enough clearance to be able to overhear whatever a fight is about.

Jack sighs, pulling a hand out of his pocket to drag it down the front of his face. This had been a place he loved coming, reminding him of the pond back home. The one that Abigail had loved to sit next to and watch the sun set. Now he just feels like there’s a weight on his chest, on his heart.

“Okay, Uncle Jack?” The cheery voice of Bobby Rogers is unexpected, but Champ’s son - Agent Rum - is all smiles when he waves at his father’s best friend. The junior agent’s evening walk is easily interrupted, and he strides over to the bench that Jack has sunken down on.

“Hey kid.” Despite the fact the boy is an agent and old enough to drink, he’s always called Bobby ‘kid’. A running joke because it had made the youngster laugh when he had met him. Old enough that he didn’t think about his son every time he looked at him. “I’m okay. How are you?” He asks, raising a brow in concern. He’d read the after action report from Prague.

“Just had dinner with Ginger and Gabi and the kids.” Bobby sits himself down next to Jack and leans back, surveying the older man with the same appraising expression as his mother uses, except Bobby shrugs amiably. “Itchin’ to get back out there but there’s no assignment for me right now. You know how it is.”

“Yeah.” Jack huffs under his breath, very aware of being on desk duty. He tries to avoid turning towards the boy, aware that he’s as perceptive as his mother.

“Maybe there will be something for both of us?” He suggests optimistically, having wanted to run a mission with Jack ever since his promotion to active agent status.

Jack can grin at that, a smug little smirk that is fully aware of his own strengths as an agent. “That would be fun.” He acknowledges with a nod. “Maybe Champ’ll send us out together.”

“Maybe if you said something?” It’s no secret that Bobby looks up to Jack. He always has, ever since he was small, and even now there’s a remnant of something childlike in his excited expression. “I know you usually work missions with Tequila if you do doubles but I know we could be a hell of a team.”

“Yeah.” Jack nods, although he knows he will be shot down. “I’ll say somethin’ for sure, kid.” He turns towards him now. “It’ll be good to run a mission together.”

“You comin’ over for dinner this week?” With Jack’s agreement to the idea, Bobby is beaming. “I swear I don’t mind still living so close as long as Mom keeps making meatloaf every Wednesday night like clockwork.”

Jack chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Have I ever missed a meatloaf Wednesday unless I was out of town?” He asks, leaning over and shoving at the boy’s shoulder with his own. He can’t help but wonder how you make meatloaf.

“Never.” The young man acknowledges with a snort. “Can’t exactly find meatloaf in Prague. Gotta admit that I missed it.”

“Nothin’s ever better than homemade by momma.” Jack acknowledges honestly.

“It’s true.” The smile that plays on Bobby’s lips is wistful. “God I hope I get a soulmate that can cook,” he laughs. “If she’s as hopeless as I am we’ll be eatin’ at my parents’ table or in the Statesman cafeteria our whole lives.”

The blood in Jack’s veins freezes from the kid’s innocent statement. “H-here’s hopin’.” He manages and quickly glances back at the water.

Bobby might be young, but he’s a trained Statesman agent the same as Jack and he knows his uncle is acting jumpy. Instead of needing an answer like his father might do, though, he nods and decides to give Jack some peace. “I’m gonna walk on,” he decides, Stretching his long limbs before pushing up to standing again. “Got a good book calling my name. I’ll see ya ‘round, Uncle Jack.”

“See ya, kid.” Jack nods and watches the boy as he ambles away like he hasn’t a care in the world. It makes Jack sigh heavily and he closes his eyes, thinking about Abigail. “Darlin’” he murmurs softly. “I’m doin’ what I think right, so why does it hurt?” He asks his long dead wife, wishing she could answer him.

******

It feels like you cried all night after Jack left, and for the better part of your private time for the next few days. At work you’re numb, going through the recipes that you chose with tender loving care, feeling like more machine than person. The aching in your heart just hasn’t abated, and every day you step out your front door halfway between Tex and Jack’s houses, you almost wonder who you miss more. Except that, as guilty as you feel about it, you know the answer. Today feels like a day that you just can’t get anything right, as every batch of cornbread you make seems to lack flavor, or texture, or not rise enough. You swear you might scream if another pan comes out looking deflated and overly dry - but that might also be the fact that it’s nearly two in the afternoon and you haven’t eaten yet. Matter of fact, when was the last time you ate?

Diana pushes into the main dining room, frowning slightly as she does. Something is off and after pulling the truth out of Champ over breakfast, she decided that visiting you was what she needed to do. “Darling? Are you in the kitchen?” She calls out.

Oh god… The sound of Diana’s voice is usually welcome, but you’re just not up to having company. It’s not exactly a question you can dodge, though, is it? She’ll find you here whether you like it or not. “I’m back here!” You call finally, figuring she’s already heard your music playing. The speakers are always attached to whatever is playing on your phone, which you now turn the volume way down on.

“Am I interrupting you?” Concern laces her features as she pushes one of the double doors open and peers into your kitchen. It’s surprisingly empty, although with what’s been going on, she can’t blame you. “If you aren’t up for company, you let me know.”

"No, it's okay." After having barely spoken to anyone for a few days, you clear your throat and try to smile. "Come on in. I could use a break from all this cornbread." The pans sitting all around you are practically mocking you and you would be very glad to ignore them for a while.

You look devastated. Diana sighs to herself and reaches out to pull you into a brief but fierce hug. Wishing that she could wipe away the hurt and sadness. Damn Jack.

"What was that for?" You ask when she leans back to look at you. Just because you haven't said a word to her doesn't mean that she doesn't know what happened, although you would hope that Jack had enough discretion to not just go blabbing it to everyone. Who knows?

“Mother’s instinct.” She hums. “You look like you need a hug. So I gave you one.” She won’t tell you that Champ told her the situation, but she’ll listen if you need to talk.

"I was about to make myself some lunch." Wiping your hands on your apron gives you a moment to compose yourself so you don't just break down on the spot. You did need that hug. "Is it too late in the day for you to join me?"

“I’ve been running around with a tour group of two hundred.” Her eyes widen dramatically and she huffs. “Some corporate retreat and ‘team building’ thing so I’ve not had a chance to hear myself think.”

"So that's a yes?" Since cooking for people is the one thing that seems to relieve stress, it actually makes your shoulders drop a little and sloughs some tension away. "I have more cornbread than we can shake a stick at to go with it."

“Ohhh are you making cornbread fritters?” Diana asks ask she looks at the fallen pans of cornbread.

"I can if you like." It would certainly use up some of this failed baking. "How about I make us a big chop salad and we can have a basket of cornbread fritters to go along with it?"

“Do you want some help or do you want me to be your sounding board while you cook?” Diana asks, tilting her head at you, curious to see what you will decide.

“Why don’t you join me?” It’s not just anyone that you would invite into your kitchen, but you’ve become fairly attached to the older woman in just the few weeks you’ve been here. She is usually an endless source of positivity and support - two things you could really use right now even if you hate the reason why.

“Absolutely, chef.” She tosses you a grin and immediately marches over to your industrial sized sinks to wash her hands. “Put me to work.”

Everything you’ll need to road test the upscale Cobb salad for your menu is already in the fridge, so you set Diana up with a cutting board, knife, and a bowl to deposit everything into and set to work turning one skillet’s worth of cornbread into fritter mix - with some cheddar cheese added for good measure. There are a few slices of bourbon maple glazed bacon that you’ve been experimenting with that you’ll chop up as well - the perfect topping for the salad after it’s been dressed. “So a corporate tour?” You ask, trying to remind yourself to be social as the two of you start working side by side. “That sounds…sort of excruciating, honestly. Two hundred is a huge group.��

“They were more interested in tasting than the actual tour.” Diana tells you as she starts to chop the ingredients. Looking down at the cutting board and smirking to herself at how sharp your knife is. A good, proper blade.

“If I worked for a corporation doing mandatory retreats, I would be too.” It’s the closest you’ve been to laughing in days, the little huff you give as you shake your head.

“There’s some truth to that.” Diana laughs as she acknowledges it. “Although I guess it’s a good thing that the restaurant isn’t open yet or all of them would have been in here.”

“That’s fine. Customers I can handle.” Working the cornbread mixture with your hands is actually kind of cathartic. Imagining it’s the knots in your heart instead of food. “They’re particular, but in a way I can handle. I wouldn’t even know how to keep them all engaged on a tour.”

“Practice.” Diana muses, sneaking a glance over at you. “Much like wrangling cowboy soulmates.”

You sigh, a little too deeply, and turn to look at her with anxiety written all over your face. “How long have you known?”

“The tattoo?” She doesn’t suppose that you are talking about the situation you find yourself in now, but she just wants to clarify. “From the beginning.” She admits quietly. “Champ doesn’t keep much but classified information from me. And this…well, Jack is family.”

“So…” If your hands weren’t covered in edible sludge, you would be leaning on the counter while you try to collect yourself. As it is, all you can do is stare at Diana. “When was anybody going to tell me?”

“If I had my way, I would have slapped Jack upside his damned fool head.” Diana huffs, holding your gaze steadily. “But…Champ said that it was Jack’s place to figure out that he’s been given a second chance.”

That twists the knife in your heart, and you look down at your hands to avoid tearing up if you keep looking at the woman beside you. Diana is so full of empathy that it seems to just deep out of her. “Jack doesn’t want a second chance.” You murmur, head bowed like somehow it’s your fault.

“Damn jackass doesn’t know what he wants.” Diana hisses, her chopping becoming slightly less perfect through her anger. “And he likes you, so you terrify him.”

“He doesn’t like me as much as you think he does.” If he did, he wouldn’t have shattered any hope you had of something happening between the two of you somewhere down the line. “He made it abundantly clear last night that he doesn’t want another soulmate.”

“Stubborn fucking mule.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head in disappointment. She knows that Jack likes you more than he’s willing to admit, but the damn fool can’t get past his grief.

“He seems to know his mind well enough.” If you mix this damn batter anymore it is just going to be goo, so you stop - pulling your hands away and wiping them reasonably clean so you can wash up and start portioning out the mix. “Second time I’ve lost a chance at having a soul mate in just a couple of weeks and I didn’t get a say in it either time.”

“So he told you….” Diana is shocked at that, the knife turning to the side and she looks at you in shock.

“Not in a great amount of detail.” You shrug, feeling her eyes on you as you scrub your hands clean. “But yeah. He told me. A-about Statesman being…spies. About…” Sighing makes your whole body shake. “About how he…killed my soulmate. And then inherited me.”

Diana’s face screws up in anger, promising herself she’s gonna kick Jack’s ass from here to New York and back. “Jack has killed men before and never inherited their soulmates.” She spits. “So he’s full of shit. The universe doesn’t just randomly assign soulmates, especially not second ones.”

“It doesn’t really matter, does it?” The worst part right now is how defeated you feel. How hopeless and helpless everything feels knowing that Jack’s mind was made up before he even met you. “He doesn’t want anything to do with it, but apparently the fact of him was enough to scare off the guy who did like me.”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” Diana doesn’t know the details, just the highlights that had been given to her and she knows it might be better for you to talk and get it off your chest. “If you want.”

Not being able to talk to anyone these last few days has been the hardest part of everything, in some ways. With no one to help lighten the burden it seems to have tripled its weight on your chest. The normal phone calls to your sister whenever something bad or complicated happened hadn’t occurred this time - because how could you explain even half of what happened while avoiding the tidbits that apparently required security clearance? It was a minefield you didn’t know how to navigate. But Diana? Diana already understands this world. She lives in it and thrives. “It goes back to when I first got here,” you explain, as if that were longer ago than a mere three weeks. “That first night…Jack came to tell me that I had gotten the job here, and we ended up going out together.” Working while you talk is the best way to keep your mind from overwhelming you, and by the time lunch is finished being prepared you’ve told Diana everything. Every last detail is laid out for her to examine, leaving you feeling both exhausted and somehow unburdened as you sit down together at the long prep counter to eat.

Diana is madder than a bucket full of hornets. Fuming as you had described the back and forth treatment from Jack, dangling you like a marionette until he’s realized he’s too close and tossing you aside. Instead of raging, she reaches over and pulls you in for another hug. “This isn’t your fault.”

“What’s worse is that I can’t even bring myself to be mad anymore.” Upset, obviously, and hurt. But anger has come and gone like a flash in a pan. “I get that he’s hurt, and that this is as much a shock to him as it is to me. But I just…” You squeeze her back, needing the hug much more than you want to admit. “I haven’t gotten a say in any of it. Even Tex wouldn’t say a damn word to me once he realized. Like in his mind Jack already owned me, or something. But all Jack wants is to be friends.” At least, that’s what he had said. And all you could do is take it at face value.

"Tex is...loyal." Diana sighs. "He's always been secretly disappointed that soulmate marks haven't shown up on his body so he could find his soulmate." She explains. "Of course, he isn't going to poach Jack's mate. Even if he wanted to, his sense of propriety wouldn't let him because he feels like Jack will want you."

“Which means that, once again, I don’t get a say in my own relationships.” It’s becoming a recurring theme and you aren’t exactly thrilled with that. “I’m sorry,” you shake your head and pick up your fork, reminding yourself that eating is necessary even when you’re annoyed. “I don’t mean to complain about people who act with what they believe are the best of intentions. But I’d give my right foot for anybody to have asked me what I wanted.” Tilting your head, though, you look around you and half-chuckle. “Except Champ. He’s given me anything I want here, and I’m grateful for that.”

“I don’t blame you.” Diana shakes her head. “Men always try to do what they think best without asking.” You are so sweet and you deserve the world. “Take back your control where you can.” She urges you.

“How am I supposed to do that?” It’s an honest question, considering you barely know what you want beyond to be loved. The fact that Jack's face is what always comes to mind now is just a complication. “Tex is in another country and Jack has made up his mind already.”

“That, I can’t decide for you.” Diana has a few ideas on what she would do if Champ had rejected her, but she wasn’t you. “But I can tell you what I would do if I were you.”

Something about the way she says it sparks your curiosity, and you tilt your head at her as you pluck up one of the fritters from the basket between you. “What would you do?” Anything is better than moping - which is all you’ve done for days.

“I would start dating.” Diana snorts and sends you a small grin. “As many dates as you want, whoever you want.” She shrugs. “If he wants to be ‘friends’, he doesn’t get a say in how you move on with your life.” She takes a sip of her sweet tea. “Operate like you don’t even acknowledge Jack Daniels wears your marks.”

“Seriously?” You’re not sure why the suggestion is so shocking to you, but you feel like your jaw drops all the way down to the counter when she looks at you with fire in her eyes. She’s angry for you, and it’s simultaneously daring and empowering. Like she has just done the emotional equivalent of offering the Revenge Dress to Princess Di. “That’s…I guess that makes a lot of sense, actually.”

“Yes it does.” She nods. “You don’t have to do it, but I would. Just to show him that he’s not going to dictate your life, just because he’s hung up on a past that is no longer reality.”

“Are you…suggesting that it might make him jealous?” You can’t imagine how, all things considered, but it would be kind of satisfying.

“If it does, it serves the fool right.” She hums, a slightly evil grin on her face. “Even if it doesn’t, it will be you taking control of your life again. You decide how you spend your time.”

“I…” Slumping slightly in your seat, you nudge your fork through your salad - it’s delicious, but you’re thinking things through. “I don’t know if I’m ready to possibly get rejected again so soon,” you admit. “I’m…I don’t think I could take it. Not this soon.”

“Let me set you up.” Her eyes light up and she grins. “Astrid’s brother is coming into town.” She gasps. “Oh that’s perfect.”

“Oh, I…” It’s guilt, this twisting feeling in your gut, and all of a sudden you sit up and shake your head. “The idea of it makes me feel guilty,” you tell Diana honestly. “Which is totally illogical, and I need to get over this fucking crush I have on Jack or it’s just going to fester and that won’t help. So…” Exhaling deeply, you nod as decisively as possible. “Tell me about Astrid’s brother.”

Diana grins and sends you a wink. “If I was twenty years younger…” she starts with a laugh, proceeding to tell you all about the handsome man that will be perfect for a good time and getting your mind off Jack.

It’s not such a bad idea, when you think about it. The trajectory of your life has taken such an obtuse turn that thinking about something like life after being rejected by your second soulmate is just a chat you have over lunch with your boss’s wife. Although, with this conversation today, Diana has become much more than just your boss’s wife. She’s your closest friend at Statesman. “Okay.” You nod, sitting up straight after she tells you all about the man she has in mind. “As long as Astrid is okay with it, I’m in.”

“Good!” Diana smirks as she picks up another fritter out of the basket. “I bet you these would be amazing as a side dish to meatloaf.” She muses before giggling slightly.

“I would make that for my staff in a heartbeat. I just need to find a good meatloaf recipe.” You ruminate on the idea for a second before smiling. “Actually, I’ve been trying to figure out one more thing for the main menu. Meatloaf and cornbread fritters might be just the thing.”

“I have a recipe.” The smile that creeps over Diana’s face is nothing short of fortuitous. “Every Wednesday it’s served at my dinner table.” She admits. “You are welcome to come, but….Jack will be there.”

For a split second you almost jump on the invitation, but even the mention of his name makes you hesitate. Especially when you realize that today is Wednesday. “Maybe next week.” Seeing him again so soon - mere hours after you’ve talked everything out - just doesn’t feel like something you can handle.

“I can understand that.” Diana nods sagely, reaching out and touching the back of your hand. “Why don’t I bring you some tomorrow and let you try it, see if you like the recipe.”

“That would be really nice of you.” You turn your hand over to squeeze hers quickly. “Thank you for this, Diana. For all of this today.”

“What are friends for?” She knows that she’s older, and she’s the boss’s wife, but she thinks of you as a friend. “Plus I’ll make sure I give you the portion that would have gone home with Jack.” She cackles and winks at you.

The two of you share a good laugh over the idea of Jack pouting over missing his leftovers, and you bite back the feeling of regret at not being able to sit at that table with him like any normal pair of soulmates. “I really…” It sticks in you, clinging to your heart unbidden. “I want him to be happy,” you tell her honestly. “If that’s not with me, then the universe screwed up.”

“Jack’s never going to be happy until he lets his wife’s ghost rest.” Diana explains exasperatedly. “The man can claim he’s happy, but he’s not. You can tell, at least those that have known him for a long time can.”

“Well…whatever it ends up meaning for him. He just…” Sitting back in your seat, you reach for what’s left of your tea and sigh softly. “Everybody deserves to be happy.”

“And that includes you.” Diana reminds you, giving you a firm look.

“I hope so.” After the last few weeks, though, you have your doubts.

******

“I shouldn’t let you in the damn house.” Diana scowls at Jack as he stands in the doorway of her house. If she had a rolling pin in her hand, she’d be hitting him with it.

In the hours since she left your kitchen, Diana has been fuming. Thank god Champ hasn’t been home until just a few minutes ago or he would have gotten quite the earful about how purely Jack had treated you.

Jack's easy smile is instantly replaced with a frown. "What did I do?" He demands, looking around. "I wasn't supposed to bring nothin'."

“What you did has nothing to do with dinner.” She tells him flatly. This isn’t a conversation for the whole neighborhood to hear, though, so she lets him inside despite wanting to wallop him. “Would you like to guess how I spent the afternoon, Jack?”

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Jack scoffs, shaking his head. "Your husband has me trainin' the young bucks on the whip and lasso." It still is a sore subject but at least he isn't stuck behind the desk for the entire day.

"I heard a little story today." Shutting the door behind him, Diana frowns and puts her hands on her hips. "From your soulmate."

"How many fuckin' times do I have to explain this." Jack's frown deepens and he rolls his eyes. "She ain't my soulmate. Second soulmates is a fucking lie you tell someone to make yourself feel better about the poor bastard losing his while yours is still happily breathin'." He scoffs. "It ain't real and I didn't fuckin' ask for her marks. I don't want 'em."

"A fact which you made abundantly clear to her." The steam pouring from Diana's ears is proverbial, thankfully, otherwise she would look like a cartoon character. "Without ever paying her the courtesy of kindness due to somebody who had their original soulmate torn from them. Instead you flirted with her, basically took her out on a date, kissed her; all the while telling her she basically means nothing to you. And then you had the goddamn audacity to make it seem like she did something wrong for finding herself likin' you at the end of the day." As it all comes tumbling out, Diana can feel herself just getting madder and madder, her blood nearly boiling all too quickly. "Second soulmates may be rare, Jack, but you're living goddamn proof that it's real. Whether you like it or not."

Shame fills Jack, but he'll be damned if he admits it. "She wouldn't have known if Tequila could keep his fuckin' mouth shut." He hisses. "She shouldn't have known, she'd have been happy livin' her life here and whatever attraction between us would have fizzled out and she could've moved on with her life." Guilt and something else twists in his gut, making it churn at the thought of that very thing happening. Shaking his head like he could shake off the feeling, he props his hands on his hips and stares at his oldest friend's wife. "Anything else you wanna lecture me on?"

"Yes, and it's ironic that you asked." The fact that he's trying to pass the buck off on poor Tequila is a whole other topic but she's too fired up in your defense right now. "Since you never once asked her how she felt about the whole damn thing."

"What does it matter?" Jack's volume creeps up in exasperation and he throws his hands up. "It's not gonna change things. It's not like I can change the fact that I'm gonna love my Abigail until the day I'm in the ground beside her. So what fuckin' good is it to ask how she feels about things that don't matter?"

"Because she's human, Jack!" Having to explain that to a grown ass man might be the most exasperating part, since Diana had always counted him as a concerned and caring friend. Apparently his blind spots when it comes to his own emotional state are even bigger than she had thought. "You don't have to love her but you do have to acknowledge that she's a grown woman with feelings and opinions all her own. And that those matter. How can you look her in the face and tell her you want to be her friend without ever once asking how she feels?"

“I can’t love her, Diana.” Jack’s frown turns into something desperate, almost beseeching as he implores her to believe him. “I can’t. I killed her soulmate.”

"Agents have killed lots of men, Jack Daniels." It's his job, and no one here is debating the morality of it. It's just a fact. "But she is the only soulmate that has ever transferred to a Statesman agent in the history of the organization." Diana shakes her head, her expression turning distinctly disappointed. "I'm not asking you what you think you're capable of. I'm saying she is alone, and she's sad, and she feels less than human because you didn't do the courtesy of just asking. You just assumed. And if nothing else, that isn't what friends do."

Jack stares at her for a long moment and sighs, his shoulders slumping and he closes his eyes. “I- I don’t know what to do.” He admits quietly. “I don’t know how to do this.”

"Nobody expects you to." Like a patient older sister with her petulant little brother, Diana shakes her head before reaching out to rub his shoulder softly. "But this knee-jerk anger about having her mark isn't helping anybody at all. Least of all you and her. Or poor Tequila."

"Why do I get to wear hers and not Abigail’s?" Jack demands, choking the question out. "They disappeared, gone, like she never existed."

'I don't know, Jack." When he starts to crumble, Diana moves in, offering him a place to lean against her if he wants it. "But she didn't put them on you herself. She doesn't deserve to be treated like an undesirable for something completely beyond her control."

Jack squeezes his eyes shut and takes the comfort that is being offered. "I- I'll try to - to be her friend." He swallows, hating the way his heart leaps and starts to pound at the mere thought of being around you. "Like- like it was when she showed up."

"Platonic soulmates do exist." In her heart she doesn't think that's how the two of you are meant to be, but it's not up to her to decide. No one but you and Jack can determine how you feel about each other. For now she puts one arm around Jack and gently rubs it up and down his back in a slow, soothing rhythm. "And...for the record? Tequila didn't out you. He only told her that he had seen her mark on somebody else. She figured it out herself."

"Who else would that dumb hick know that would show him a fucking tattoo?" He huffs, still sore about his damn jaw. "I really did think that he had seen her mark on the arm."

"Statesman has hundreds of employees," she reminds him gently. "It could have been anyone. And...apparently she covered it for the wedding. With makeup. Her cousin isn't a big fan of tattoos so she wanted to be courteous."

“Shit.” Jack closes his eyes, the guilt compounding when he remembers the hurt in Tex’s voice.

"It's been a rough few days." She can acknowledge that. That it's been hard for everyone, him included. Unfortunately, there isn't much more she can do but say her piece and be a good friend - both to you and to Jack. "Let's go have some dinner."

“I’m allowed to stay?” Jack asks, slightly surprised that she’s not booting him out on his ass.

“I’m upset, not heartless.” Diana tells him, though if he hadn’t showed remorse or had dug his heels in, she might have sent him on his way. “But next week she’ll be here right alongside you, so I’ll ask you to find a way to be civil by then.”

“I got no problem being civil.” Jack promises, even though he would prefer to limit his time with you until he feels like he is on steady ground. But what could a dinner hurt?

“Good.” Even if she doesn’t quite believe him, she’s already picked her fight for today.

Jack follows Diana into the house, wondering why the older woman felt so strongly about you - a newcomer. He shakes his head and shuffles towards the living room as he greets Champ.

“I won’t ask.” Champ already has a beer out for Jack, having heard the ruckus from upstairs. His wife had given him an overview of her conversation with you but mostly kept your confidence, as she always does with a friend. “The youngins do alright today, Jack?”

Jack can only be grateful that someone doesn't want to crawl up his ass and into his business. He takes the beer and nods. "Comin' along, though some of them ain't exactly cowboys."

"I'm sure we can fix that," the older man chuckles as they follow Diana into the dining room. Bobby had been getting the table set while his mother took the screws to Jack, apparently. "Most don't hang around here too long without getting the spirit."

"True." Jack can agree with that, knowing his own training had weeded out plenty of unsuitable candidates. "But you've got a family legacy here." He tells the older man as he winks at Bobby. "Like the boy here."

"He's doing fine work." Champ commends, puffed up proudly as they all take their seats at the table. "Finer than I was at his age, that's for damn sure."

Jack snorts. "Of course he is." He jokes, winking at the kid. "But that's not sayin' much."

"Alright, you three." Diana looks around the table as she starts to serve - a habit she's kept for years just to keep the men in her life from making a mess at the table. "No shop talk at dinner, you know the rules."

"Yes ma'am." Jack grins as both he and Bobby answer Diana at the same time and Champ just grins at his wife and winks at her playfully.

The meal starts with a little benign chit chat, but soon turns around to Statesman again - though the men are all careful to avoid mentioning case work to adhere to Diana's 'no shop talk at family dinner' rule. "Did I see a groundbreaking on the new apartment building this morning?" Bobby asks when he reaches for seconds. There used to be three small parks in the housing neighborhood. Soon there will only be two. "I didn't know we were expanding that much more. Is the new restaurant gonna be that big?"

Champ leans back and nods. "Figure it will be." He admits, smirking slightly at how well the projected sales are forecasting with just the traffic from the people who work at Statesman enjoying your food right now. "We got ourselves a real winner." He glances over at Jack who is looking down at his plate.

“And it’s just the start.” Diana’s pride is more for you than for the business. “When we start hosting more events than just corporate getaways and bachelor parties, things are really going to get busy around here.”

Jack shouldn't feel pride, he had nothing to do with the restaurant. It was your baby, your hard work and vision that was making it a reality. Still, he nods as he forks up another bite of meatloaf and agrees. "She will be full every day."

Across from him, Diana bites back a smirk at the pride in his voice. “Once she starts doing weddings, she’ll be lucky to have a day off.”

"She doesn't need to be overworked." Jack immediately frowns. "She needs to trust the people around her."

"She'll need a team." For the first time in a little while, Diana is in total agreement with Jack. "It's going to be time to start hiring staff soon, won't it? Including a good second-in-command."

Jack nods, keeping his eyes on his plate. “Yeah she will need that.”

"You sure you don't want the job, Mom?" Bobby grins at his mother, knowing little about the woman who will be running the new restaurant on premises except that his mother is incredibly fond of her. "You always said you wanted to be a party planner."

“Oh no,” Diana quickly shakes her head. “There’s no way that I could keep up with her.” She laughs. “She’s too energetic.”

"What about the opening night party, Di?" Champ suggests, glancing sideways to get an eyeful of Jack staring into his plate. "You're still our gal for events until we hire a full on planner. Why don't you talk to her about what she'd like for opening night?"

“Oh she should have a party, shouldn’t she?” Diana muses. “Something to celebrate the opening. We need to get her family here for it.” She turns to Jack. “You take care of that.”

"Jack's a little overqualified to be a travel agent, ain't he?" Bobby snorts, obviously not having understood the argument between his mentor and his mother, if he overheard it at all.

Jack swallows and pushes around the green beans. “Nah, kid, I’ll be happy to arrange for the family to come down.” He raises a brow. “Gonna need the jet of course. She’s got a big group.” It highlights how alone Jack is now, his own family reduced down to just him. No siblings, parents gone, wife and child gone. Alone.

"Whatever you need." Champ waves his hand like it's the easiest thing in the world, then smiles at his wife. "You, too. Whatever y'all need. Carte blanche to throw a hell of a hoedown."

“Well, that’s a mistake.” Jack snorts, shaking his head even though he’s grinning. “Your wife will invite half the state and plan on feedin’ em too.”

"I'll be damn sure to book the whole place full with reservations." And Diana won't pretend otherwise, either. She has a few strings she can pull, some friends she can call, and some favors she can call in. People enough to make the night the talk of Louisville, that's for sure.

Champ chuckles and reaches over to take his wife’s hand. “I know you will, honey. You always do a good job for us.” He praises, kissing the back of her hand and Jack looks back down at his meal, unable to rationalize the jealousy swimming through him at the causally intimate gesture.

"I'll hash everything out with her this week," Diana hums, as casually as if they were all chatting about the weather. She's interested to know just how rankled Jack will get if she takes things one step further in this conversation about you. "Before the weekend. I don't want her worrying about anything when Lewis gets into town."

“Lewis is coming?” Bobby grins, well acquainted with Astrid’s brother. “That means we need to make sure that our tab is in good standing at the bar. For damages.” He chuckles and leans back. There was always a scuffle at the bar when Ginger’s little brother came to town.

"Y'all can get into plenty of trouble on a boys' night." She laughs, shaking her head at her son even while she watches Jack out of the corner of her eye. "He's taking our favorite chef out while he's here."

Jack’s head snaps up and he almost immediately starts to protest and then he presses his lips together. Knowing that he doesn’t have any reason to argue against it. Instead he ducks his head down and stares at the meatloaf that suddenly tastes like ash in his mouth.

"Oh?" Champ nearly chokes at Jack's reaction but manages to keep his poker face. "Yes." Diana has sat back in her chair, raising her glass of wine to her lips in victory. The jealousy on Jack's face is as obvious as the shade of red he has turned. "Something about a concert he has tickets to? He was very excited."

Jack’s jaw nearly breaks; he's mashing it together so harshly, grinding his back teeth. Eyes burning a hole in his plate as he stares at it.

"Sounds like fun." The sound of chomping from Jack sitting beside him is unexpected, but Bobby doesn't call attention to it because he's not sure what the hell he just heard. "What's he up for? Just the concert?" Diana shakes her head, absorbing every single reaction she can get out of Jack. "Astrid and Gabi's oldest is turning seven next week. They're not doing a big party or anything, but you know Lewis wouldn't miss the kids' birthdays."

It hurts to sit here. Listening to Diana happily chatter about Lewis. Even if he does like Ginger’s brother, he’s suddenly a hell of a lot less happier he’s coming. Wanting to bolt from the table and the conversation but he reaches for his glass to gulp down the rest of his sweet tea, mouth dry.

“Now that we got a pastry chef on premises, birthdays for the kids are going to be a lot sweeter.” Champ nudges his empty plate back on the table after taking his last bite and pats his belly in satisfaction. He’d have to have lost his marbles to be oblivious to what his wife is doing as she harps on the topic, but he also can’t say that Jack hasn’t been damn fool enough to have it coming.

Jack nearly chokes, coughing to cover up the way that the tea manages to slide down the wrong pipe. Slapping himself on the chest and taking deep breaths when he finally finished sputtering the liquid up from his lungs.

“Alright, Jack?” Diana asks, expression washed with nothing but mild concern. She knows he’s fine, but he’s been awfully quiet while he stews - right until this.

"Fine." Jack clears his throat and shakes his head quickly. "Fine. Just swallowed wrong." He gives a bland smile and takes another sip of his drink.

“Good.” Her smile tightens just barely. “I’d hate to think anything here,” she waves her hand at the remnants of the meal in front of them. “Was hard to swallow.”

Jack's jaw rocks but he nods, understanding what is being said. "Not a damn thing." He drawls. "Everything was just as good as it's always been."

“Good.” If that’s all that Jack wants - what’s always been - he’s going to be hurtin’ watching you live your life. And if that’s the bed he’s made for himself, Diana thinks as she gives him a smile, it will be a very lonely one to lie in.

"Good." Jack nods, fully aware there is nothing good about it at all.

******

The clock on the wall reads six o’clock by the time you’re winding down for the day, exhausted from interviews and looking forward to grabbing dinner with Diana after this next one was over with. The intensive process of hiring an entire restaurant’s worth of staff hasn’t been fun, and this is the end of day three. The only thing you’re happy about is that you really do have most of your team together by now. One more line cook and maybe two more waiters and you’ll have a full house. You look down at the application in front of you - the bottom of the stack - and hope you can retain any of the information it contains while you’re talking to this guy. Tripp Tanner. You chuckle Unconsciously at the alliteration. Well…at least you’ll remember his name.

Jack decides to stop by your kitchen. Trying to make a more conscious effort to make you feel wanted, it’s been hard, but he also won’t admit that he likes checking on you. Making sure that you are enjoying your new creation. “Sugar?” He calls out. “You in the back?”

“Jack?” In the weeks since everything exploded between the two of you, you’ve been trying to be nice. To be friendly. Even though it twists your aching heart that he doesn’t see you as anything more, you’re trying to move on. Something that’s hard to do when he pops in to surprise you like this. “I’m in the kitchen!”

“Are you busy?” The last thing he wants to do is impose, but he wants to ask about the planning for the party. Talking to your brother about scheduling everyone in your family to come down is a pain. Too many people to juggle.

He strolls through the door like a cowboy rolling up to his favorite saloon and you can’t help but smile. “I have a couple of minutes before my last interview. What’s up?”

“What time are you planning on kickin’ off the festivities on your big day?” He asks, looking around the kitchen and nodding at the controlled chaos that it seems to emit.

“It’s still almost two months away.” There’s a lot of work to do before then, but you’re excited. Champ has given you everything you’ve asked for and then some. “But the party is…it’s going to be a lot of fun.” Diana’s idea to turn the one-night soft opening you had planned into a party is shaping up to be wonderful. “The whole thing will start at six that night.”

“But the opening is when?” Jack nods, filing away that information. “So I can make sure that the website is updated.”

“Six weeks from Saturday.” Which is so far away and so close all at once. “April 14.”

“Okay, so they are different days?” Jack shakes his head in confusion. “Take me through everything please?”

“The soft opening is like our trial run.” You pop up from your seat to refresh your tea and come back from the fridge with a glass for him as well. “People come by invitation and they have reservations. We’re going to offer our whole menu and have some live music that Diana is arranging. There will be thank you gifts for everyone who comes and they’re all going to get little nips of Statesman with the date on the bottle as well. Champ’s idea, of course.” With how wonderful everyone’s been, you’ve really just been basking in the support. Professionally, at least, things are wonderful. “What this does is give us a night to work out any kinks in the system and make sure all the food is perfect for the grand opening, which is the next day. That’s when we open to the public.”

“Okay, soft opening is Saturday, Grand opening is Sunday.” Jack nods, knowing he will invite the family for the entire weekend. Give you a chance to spend time with them outside of the hustle of your restaurant opening. He leans against a counter, unaware that there is a tool with a sharp edge to snag on his button down shirt. It’s too hot to wear his sports coat and he had run by after leaving the office.

“It will be a very big weekend.” You already know you won’t sleep Friday night, too excited and worried and proud and scared to rest at all. “For tonight, though? Just one more interview.”

“Who you hirin’?” Jack asks before he takes a sip of his tea. Trying to ignore the way your eyes light up and seem to sparkle talking about the opening. Too damn pretty for his peace of mind.

“My sous chef is coming from Savannah. She was the first person I hired.” The enthusiastic woman is about your age and has been doing French influenced Southern fair in Georgia hotels for her whole career. She was excitable but focused in your video interview and you hadn’t hesitated to pull the trigger. “And my front of house manager is actually my roommate from college. She was a hospitality major when I was in culinary and we always said one day if we had our own place we’d hire each other.” The stack of applications and resumes had been intimidatingly thick when they started to arrive, but with Diana’s help you’re getting through it all. “This last interview is for a line cook. I’ve had twice as many applicants as I have positions so I’ll decide this week and call everyone before the end of the day on Friday.”

Jack knows next to nothing about hiring cooks but he nods. Diana’s voice in his head about being polite. “That’s good, sugar. I’m sure you’ll find the right fit for everyone soon.” He agrees. “That sandwich you had everyone tastin’ was mighty good. I never did hear what it was called?”

“That was my version of a croque monsieur.” Having agents and office workers and everybody from the Statesman offices come down to taste test recipes has been an absolute blessing, and so far you’ve made good use of all the constructive criticisms that have come your way. Although you may have weighed opinions like Jack’s more heavily than others…

“It was damn good.” He admits, taking another sip of the sweet tea that you have down to an art form despite growing up in the North. “Hopefully that will make it to your menu at some point.”

“It was a pretty rousing success, so I think it will.” It’s such an easy moment between the two of you. Sitting there together and chatting away, you could almost be mistaken for a couple with the smiles on your faces. But you’ll never tell him just how often you harbor thoughts like that. He would despise it.

Jack hums, knowing that most days will be spent having lunch here, or at least ordering it into the office. “Good,” he leans forward and the material catches, the sounds of ripping fabric filling the air. “Shit.”

“Oh shit!” You jump up, reaching around him to snatch the corkscrew up that somehow got wedged under a stack of cast iron pans and became a weapon against men’s fashion. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Did it scratch you or just your shirt?”

Jack frowns, twisting his head and pulling on his arm. “Looks like it just tore my shirt.” Of course it would tear so that the tattoo he wears is exposed and he hisses. “No- it scratched me.”

“Shit,” you murmur again, turning him a little so you can see the damage. “Th-that shouldn’t have happened. I’ll replace the shirt for you. I—I’m sorry, Jack.” What a stupid thing to have ruined a perfectly nice moment, too. “It just looks like a scratch, though. Not like it will…” Even the thought of it has you cringing. “Not like it will scar.” God knows the last thing he wants is another reminder of you.

“Don’t worry about it.” The black looping scrawl on his skin is visible and it makes Jack’s mouth run dry. Your own is already visible today since you have your sleeves rolled up and Jack pulls back to hastily stand straight. “I’ll change my shirt and toss this one.” He tells you quickly. No need to buy another or triage.” He’s panicking and he knows he is, but he sends you a sickly smile.

“You’d better go.” There is no mistaking the way he jumps. The jittery way he jerks is so diametrically opposed to his normally smooth and confident movements. It’s obvious, once you see how his shirt has ripped. He doesn’t want your tattoo showing. Being nice to you is one thing, but having anyone know what you are to him is another. You cross your arms and lean against the counter, suddenly sullen rather than apologetic. “Get a new shirt on before anybody sees.”

“I– that’s not–” Jack protests and shakes his head, falling silent when your stony expression doesn’t change. “I’ll get out of your hair.” He murmurs silently. “Thanks for the tea, sugar.”

The best way to keep yourself from running after him like some godforsaken schoolgirl is to stay stone faced, and you turn back to the counter that you had been using as a desk to take a few very deep breaths before whoever the hell Tripp Tanner is gets here.

Jack curses himself as he rushes through the door, not even paying attention to the man who had come in without him hearing. Watching him through narrowed eyes.

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73    

DtRH: @haileymorelikestupid @spishsstuff @missmarmaladeth @axshadows @a-gay-cryptid @sgt-morgan @1a-ma1a-su3rt3 @flowers4copper @ghost-timelord @the0racl30fd3lphidos @all-the-way-down-here @bobafvcker @ficsbynight @dinoflower @supernaturalgirl20 @xdaddysprincessxx @bobawh0re @amiee-mitch18 @darkhairedmenrule @heyyimlaynna @strawberry-f4iry @3zm33atzbuss33 @whataghost @cyber666slut @nobody-000 @eddiemunsonsgirlfriendirl @lucciolaraven @powergirlsupremacy @secondsistershelby @dreadmars @androgynoushellscape @soytomatecherry @cheesecake-massacre @mylifeisbasedonashow @idiotickiddo @tomfeltonisbae @maratheidiot22 @im-nada @everybirdfellsilent @deepdarkdelights @brokenwhitegirl384 @ur-honey-child @caseket @copperrose15 @we-could-have-been @valkyries-ride @scarletmunson @strawberriricemilk @ghost-timelord @galactigoos @floridawaters @cutiepie6473 @pinball-vance @theslytherinwriter @scorpioswonder @stankyleg05 @fxdsketches @sad-innit @coffeyorky @1a-ma1a-su3rt3 @starlordsonlywife @aura626 @mistresskei @marv3lwhor3 @sadimusprimee @yourwonderbelle @sgt-morgan @spot116 @milybaby018 @loserk1nks @artfulthoughtswp @aavw @babyrunsforfanfic @faceache111 @midnight-huntress @asimpleraccoonqueen @marki-moo0 @pages89 @rawr-bitches @rebel-fanfare @soooosha @luna-is-out-there @im-sylien @timpletance @certifiedhunter @ellenmunn @littlethief78 @tinalbion @eddy-y @tikibabi @whyidkok @bearcoon1666 @littlebirdsbookshelf @a-gay-cryptid @disaster-ahaha @viridiesa @axshadows @purplerain04 @karmarouge @holycyclehomo @sainteredhood @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @the-wishmonger @theliferuiner @raptorclaw24 @asp1r1ngm1lf @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @st4rl1ght444 @litholithium @tusk89 @youjustneedatherapist @nekodemon73 @iceclaw101 @lightningsface @shakespeareanwannabe @jasminemunson @spideysimpossiblegirl @wannabedaphne @sammus-white @jazzieomega @88dragon06 @ishabull @raquel-rial @tuquoquebrute @hotleaf-juice @dantaku @youokhoney @thisiswhyibleedsstuff @maximumkryptonitegladiator @jediknight122 @gadsgikklesen @movievillainess721 @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @the-strawberrythief @spishsstuff @choppedmugjudgeplaid @haileymorelikestupid @gooddaykate @missredherring @abyssal-zone-stares-back @supernaturalgirl @winterandstars @severewobblerlightdragon @missmarmaladeth @noisynaia @saintbedelia @algressman16 @eaks0710 @mina2000alex @emdraws02 @universallyclodlawyerpainter @rayrayvan @akaleelanie @mishasminion360 @amneris21 @roxypeanut @lunarcatbun 118 @frasmotic @emdraws02 @universallyclodlawyerpainter @rayrayvan @lovelychaos420 @1432690 @no1pornstachefan @thegrimreaperbitch @esmeensheep @izz-ayes-world @kittycatcait219 @loveyou3000tonystark @tintinn16 @igenerallytrynottogiveagoshdarn @motheroftorches @phoenixhalliwell @the-dazzling-urbanite @coffeyorky @trickstersp8 @victorian-cherub @julissadunn @clarysthing @the-girl-that-loves-many-fandoms @mastersurf @theghostofutopia @ncsls0515 @seraphinaivy @hiyorinatsuki @ghostofaboy @yn-hamato @elfwriter1088 @sunnygrey99 @lexinicolenix @lazyemisfandomtrash @curiouskeyboard @qualityearthquakes @spider-284748 @unnecesarysstuff @sgt-morgan @love-affair-with-fandoms @lunarcatbun @kstar770 @kykymarty @supergingerlocks @hell0kittybimb0222 @a-birds-fin @loidforgerishotashell @mythical-writer @ghostshalo @avengersimaginesfan @sccialcasualty @lordecult @petalo-dropsart @i-quite-like-eating-carrots @svudetective @hasta-la-pasta-bb @manicpixiedreamgirly @destinydog @skeppycarnation @anaisweird @critters-beware @fruityforcocoapuffs @linnnniie @spideyromantic @paupeach2024 @faithxyu @fxramir @legomyeggo @jjggdfvvy @hi-my-name-is-riley @kasaikawa @lost-ghost-thats-sleepy @callmegkiddo @2dead2function @generallysleepdeprived   @failingclassesinmygucciglasses @thebeesknees42 @moonmoon007 @wi0na @cilliansangel @lostinsideourminds @angstismydrug @elvenmother @bilibiche @kettlekatie @preschoolispunk @djarinsstuff @generallysleepdeprived @love-affair-with-fandoms @jay-ghostly @wowieitbeme @fanofverymanythings @josephquinnswhore @this-harl0t-shant-be-unalive @djarinsstuff @justherebecausesafarisucks @cedricbitch  

My Masterlist!

[tenderjock]

like the moon moves the tides [agent carter werewolf au]

part i. hackles raised

It takes Peggy approximately thirty seconds to sniff out the other wolf in the SSR office.

It’s definitely a him, not one of the phone girls or an odd female assistant or interviewee. And it’s someone who is a frequent fixture of this building. The office smells of him, like he’s been marking territory – not literally, she hopes, since the last thing Peggy wants to deal with is a wolf that thinks it’s acceptable to piss on walls. He smells young. There’s something almost, well, not hostile, exactly, but combative about the scent.

She ignores the comments from the human men, appreciative or mocking or both, and places her briefcase down on the desk Chief Dooley had indicated was for her. It’s way in the back, across from the table with a paper shredder and pencil sharpener and farthest away from the commissary.

Colonel Phillips had told her, when he’d given the recommendation, that the Howlies had been the exception rather than the rule in the SSR. Dooley knows she’s a wolf, but part of her contract involves not telling anyone else in the office. Humans may know about their furry cousins, but even after the war, when whole packs mixed in battalions alongside humans, there was a fair amount of discomfort between the two races.

Peggy hadn’t particularly expected to find another one of her kind among these men in New York. It’s no big surprise that the other men are already dismissive of her on day one; she’s worked with humans before. It’s no surprise she’s been relegated to a secretary role. It’s no surprise, it’s just – frustrating.

A clunky, stepping sort of noise catches her attention. Peggy glances up without moving her head, and sees the bottom half of a man using a crutch to walk. He stops at her desk.

She finds herself resisting the urge to growl reflexively. It’s not this poor fellow’s fault that she’s in a new environment, without allies and quite literally cornered. Swallowing the aggression, she looks up.

He’s handsome enough, she notes, with dark curls that are fighting a liberal application of pomade and a shy, slightly awkward smile. He extends a hand, oblivious or uncaring of the way half the office is staring at them.

“Hey there,” he says, tone friendly. Peggy inhales subtly; there’s a hint of arousal there, but not too much, no more than would be expected from a human man seeing an attractive woman in any casual context. More than anything, he smells hopeful, anticipatory, eager to please. “Daniel Sousa. Welcome to the team.”

Someone snickers and it’s like a light has been turned on in Peggy’s head. She’s lived in packs her whole life, first her family and then the Howlies; human hierarchies aren’t so different. Of course, the crippled man would be at the very bottom of the office’s pecking order. Her existence just boosted him one step further up the ladder.

At least he’s being polite about it. Without looking at the snickerer, she takes his hand and gives it a firm shake.

“Peggy Carter,” she says. “I appreciate it.”

Sousa doesn’t linger, just gives her one last smile and a nod and crutches back to his desk, which is a few in front of hers. She watches him go, thinking, then starts to unpack her things and start work. Putting away her meager belongings – a few fountain pens, a notebook and an emergency, backup lipstick – doesn’t take much time. After a few moments, Peggy supposes she cannot put off the inevitable any longer, and she turns to the stack of reports that Dooley wanted her to retype and file.

As she’s bending over the first file, the male wolf steps into the room.

Peggy can’t help it. Her head snaps up. The wolf is in the doorway leading into the bullpen, stock still, nostrils flared. The whites of his eyes are showing all the way around, and there’s a hot, heady flare of adrenaline-fearsubmission-anger.

Peggy stares at him. He stares back. No one else in the office seems to pay them any mind – if this were a wolfpack, Peggy thinks, people would be circling for the fight. She doesn’t stand up, because that’s just going to make a young, male wolf who is unsure of his place angrier and more volatile.

The scent marking makes more sense, now. He’s a submissive kind, unused to work around humans, perhaps? Overcompensating for it, and he’s taking her as a threat rather than as a potential friend.

Even though it takes every ounce of willpower she has to stay in her seat, to stay woman-shaped, to not bare her teeth and snarl, Peggy remains where she is, watching the wolf as he approaches her. His posture is casual, now, slouching with his hands in his pockets, but his scent is still writhing with emotion.

He comes to a stop at the end of her desk and leans a hip against it. (Peggy can’t help herself. She flashes a quick hint of fang. He only smirks.) She looks up at him, eyes narrowed.

“Didn’t realize Dooley was getting us a typist,” he says, sounding smug. At least, his tone sounds it; his blood pressure smells like it’s through the roof and he’s sweating. His fingernails are sharper and a touch longer than they should be, and his pupils are glinting yellow.

Here’s the thing: if Peggy were any other female wolf – or even quite a few male wolves – she would be finding herself defensive, intimidated even. But she’s fought in battles most of the men here would have no words for, and her last pack had been led by a person that could tear this wolf apart with his bare, human hands. She’s certainly not going to back down from this pup, but she’s not going to pick a fight on her first day of work, either.

“Agent Margaret Carter,” she replies rather sternly. “I’m a transfer from the European field office.”

The claws slowly sink back under his skin. His scent settles, a little, but not as much as Peggy would like it to. “Right,” he says. “I’m Agent – ” the word is mocking “ – Jack Thompson. There’s some more filing that needs to be done on the Skaneateles case. But since you look all settled in, how’s about refilling the coffee pot? Or do they not do coffee in Europe?”

She glares at him, well aware that there’s nothing she can do. Thompson’s well aware of it too, judging by the self-satisfied grin on his face.

“Thanks, Marge,” he says over his shoulder, and saunters away, a definite tinge of amusement in his scent. Peggy clenches her hands, with their perfectly manicured nails that she was loath to ruin scraping his blond hair off of his head, into fists.

So much for having an ally among all these men. She consciously ungrits her fangs, and gets up to make some coffee.

[123pixieaod]

pilot!Max x backpacker!Daniel 👨‍✈️✈️💼

Part 4!

Part 3 here

Daniel isn't here.

Max stands by the small cafe doors, eyes tracking over the largely empty tables. A retired couple, a family with two small kids, a group of teenagers.

No lone Australian traveler.

He swallows his disappointment, telling himself he was stupid to think it would be any different. Daniel had texted sounds good :) to Max’s suggestion of this cafe in a quiet corner of the airport, but hadn't offered a time, and Max hadn't wanted to sound needy by texting him again.

He had probably long left the airport. He was probably already on his way to some backpacking hostel filled with fabulously exciting and eccentric people, the little figure of Max growing smaller and smaller in his mind, diminishing to nothing. Maybe he'd waited for a few minutes, but Max had had to stay on board until everyone had disembarked, had had to write up a flight report with Sebastian and then go over the details with the F1 Wings liaison officer. Time slipped by. Daniel was long gone.

Max turns his back to the cafe, staring ahead at the mixture of people in the airport corridor. Waiting and shopping and eating, filling up their time as the departure board updates.

As a child, he remembers how much he adored visits to the airport. The newness of everything, the heavy sensation of excitement which settled over everything like a blanket. People in thick winter jackets sat beside families in shorts and holiday shirts. Liminal space. A purgory between the banal and the exceptional, everyday life and holidays.

Then, all the shit happened and airports stopped being a place of wonder. They stopped being places at all the Max. Just concepts, vague ideas of uncertainty. He tried his hardest to stop thinking about them at all. It worked until he was confronted with the prospect of airports becoming his new workplace, the beginning and end to virtually each one of his days.

He begins to walk. He changed out of his uniform as soon as they landed, and he feels invisible, a nothingness shaped man. It's nice. It's good to be forgotten, to be a nobody.

"Max!"

A hand clamps on his shoulder and suddenly he's being pulled into a tight, one-armed hug.

"I'm sorry," Daniel begins, taking a step back, the hug over before it's barely begin. "I don't have any luggage to collect and figured you would so had a quick wander around duty free and - you were going to leave without me?" He gives Max a teasing smile. Max barely breathes, can barely comprehend Daniel is a living, breathing thing in front of him. Tanned and gorgeous and rugged and perfect, exactly how Max had recorded him in his memories.

"Hey," he manages to get out, and then laughs, bashful. "I thought you were the one who had left."

"Me?" Daniel says, accent wonderful and buoyant. "I would never! Come on," he grins, leading Max back towards the cafe. "I'm starving."

Max stares at him. Dark curls and sharp bone structure and deep-set eyes of burnt honey and a smile which lights up his entire expression.

He nods, smiling back. "Me too."

-

"I looked for you," Daniel says, stirring his chai latte. Max smiles, the action feeling a natural response to Daniel's presence.

"Oh?"

Daniel nods, tapping his spoon lightly against the glass before leaving it on the saucer. The rose inked into his skin ripples with the action, petals blowing in an invisible breeze. "On the plane. When I went to the bathroom, I took the long route up and down both aisles, looking for you. Didn't see you, though."

Max huffs in soft amusement. "No, you wouldn't have. I was at the front."

Daniel raises his eyebrows, teasing. "First class? Are you a secret billionaire, is that why you insisted on paying for lunch too? Flaunting your money?"

"I'm not flaunting anything," Max says with a grin. He feels lightheaded, giddy. "I wasn't sitting in first class, just near the front. And anyway, I told you. My company pays expenses while I'm traveling."

Technically not a lie. Max gets a food and drink airport allowance with F1 Wings. Paying for the chai late and a sandwhich of a bohemian Australian traveller probably isn't in the smallprint though.

"Well," Daniel says, eyes crinkled with gentle amusement. "Please thank your mystery company for my lunch. I like airplane meals as much as the next man, but it's not the sort of grub known for keeping soul and body together."

"And," Max turns his head, reading the label of the discarded box. "Vegan cheese with jalapeños is?"

"Hey, don't knock it till you try it, right?" Daniel says, and then as if to prove a point, takes a big bite of the anaemic looking sandwhich.

Max makes a face. "I didn't take you for a vegan."

"Why, is it a crime if I am one?" Daniel says after swallowing, his tone between a reprimand and a tease.

"No, of course not," Max says, opening up his own sealed chicken Caesar salad. "I'm just surprised, is all."

"Well, your surprise is for good reason," Daniel replies, once more back to blithe happiness. "Because I'm not one. Not really. I like the idea of it, you know, animal welfare and all that. But," he waves his tattooed hand. Max stares, catching sight of the delicate rose inked onto his thumb. "It's hard being one, you know? Especially when travelling. I figured I'd just take it how it goes, and when I can eat vegan, do it, but not go crazy over it, you know? I mean, it also helps I'm lactose intolerant, God pretty much preprogrammed me to be some level of vegan," he laughs. The sound is light and musical, and Max can picture the notes rising, his laughter slipping out through the gaps in the windows and joining the plans as they take off. He's talking the same as how he did on the bus, chattering with the assumption Max will listen, but pausing, allowing Max to take up space in the conversation too. It's like a dance, and somehow, they've both learned the steps to each other years ago.

"Speaking of your mysterious company which it keeping me fed and water, what is it again you do? Stocks, right?" He asks, taking another big bite of the sandwhich.

Max shakes his head. "I don't want to talk about work right now."

"Why?"

He fakes a laugh. "Does anyone like to talk about their work?"

Daniel shrugs, swallowing. "I do."

"Then do it."

Daniel huffs a laugh. Max is beginning to realise he laughs a lot. And not like how Max does it either, carefully thought through and more often than not forced. Daniel laughs as if it's the only possible option, as if it's a physical thing untamed in his chest that has to be released.

"Are you always this argumentative?" He says. Max’s eyebrows rise.

"Am I being argumentative?" He asks, genuinely surprised.

"No, maybe that's the wrong word," Daniel tilts his head as he considers. "Maybe forceful? But without the negative conictations. Like -"

"Blunt," Max finishes for him. "People tell me I'm too blunt."

"No, not blunt. Like..." Daniel taps a finger against the plastic tabletop. "Compelling? Or dynamic? Like talking with you is so easy."

Max laughs. He can't help it. He doesn't think anyone has ever described talking with him as being "easy".

"What?" Daniel looks at him with a puzzled smile, and Max just shakes his head.

"Nothing, nothing. Tell me about your job then, if you're clearly so eager to talk about it."

"I'm not eager, I'm just -"

"Wait," Max interrupts him. He feels confident, brimming with something he hasn't felt since he was a child. "Let me guess."

Daniel grins, and then sits back, gesturing to himself. "Work away. I don't think it's that difficult, but-"

"No clues," Max says, studying him with a small frown. Khaki shorts and a dark windbreaker under a plain white t-shirt. Naturally tanned but with a warm complexion, skin used to the outdoors and the sun. Lean and fit, but not muscle bound or anything. Normal. Wildly attractive, and with a smile to say he knows it too. And tattoos. A shit ton of tattoos.

Tattoos on his hands and tattoos on his arms and even tattoos on his legs, and Max briefly imagines how many others are inked onto his skin, hidden from sight.

"I thought maybe English teacher first," he says. "TEFL, you know, and that's why you get to travel everywhere. But I don't think so with those tattoos."

Daniel holds up three fingers, and then dramatically flicks one down. Two guesses left.

"A reporter?" Max takes a shot in the dark. Daniel grins, dropping a second finger.

"A..." he waves his hand aimlessly. "A wanted fugitive on the run from interpol?"

Daniel widens his eyes dramatically. "How could you tell?"

Max tried to shrug as modestly as he can. "Not sure. I've been told I just have a gift."

"A gift for sniffing out fugitives? Are you like one of those dogs who smell drugs in the airport, only instead of drugs its A grade criminals? And that's why you get free lunches, as a thanks for keeping our airports safe?"

"Exactly," Max grins. "Worthy payment, I think you'll find."

"Keeping our skies safe in exchange for vegan cheese and jalapeños sandwiches, right?" Daniel grins.

"Exactly. You a Grade A fugitive and me a top rate criminal finder. Look at us, knowing each others deepest darkest secrets already."

Daniel laughs. Max grins back. He's beginning to realise it feels so good to be the person who gets to make Daniel laugh.

Part 5!

[keep-the-wolves-close]

Steady Heart

Chapter 1: Bad Things Are Comin’

When a sudden death happens at the Yellowstone Dutton Ranch, Stella Daniels is forced deeper into the world of her employer, John Dutton. It’s much further than her experience from just working with the horses and being an extra wrangler when needed. Now Stella, her brother Ryan, and her best friend Kayce; her employer’s youngest semi-estranged son, have to navigate finding their place within the ranch’s not-so-clean dealings and the challenges that come their way.

Pairing: Slow-burn Kayce Dutton x OFC Stella Daniels

Rating: M? (Still figuring out the rating system) (might eventually be M anyhow)

Warnings: Violence, mentions of blood, character death, grief, panic, language because I mean let’s be honest we’ve all seen the show lol

Word count: 3,803ish?

Stella Daniels breathed a sigh of relief as she leaned backward on a fence in a round pen belonging to Grand Springs Ranch. She was lending a helping hand to her good friend Olivia. Olivia helped run the broodmare portion of her parent’s ranch, and this year the broodmares were giving both women a run for their money. There had been so many speed bumps this year.

Olivia sidled up beside her to join in the viewing of a new broodmare prospect. They wanted to see her movement, her temperament, and also talk to the current owner about her AQHA titles. The usual things they looked for in a good broodmare. Olivia and her parents were very strict with things being ethical and not just breeding to breed. Stella respected that.

The mare in question was a pretty little chestnut thing, spunky and only 6 years old. Stella enjoyed watching her graceful lope. The mare had a bit of an attitude, but that wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. She had been taught well when it came to horses and getting temperament under control. She had faith she would be able to have this girl right as rain in no time. She tapped Olivia’s arm and gave a nod of her approval, to which Olivia agreed.

Stella fixed her glasses and saw movement out of her peripheral. She looked over to see one of the full time hands rushing toward them with a concerned look on his face.

Olivia’s eyebrows scrunched together, “Tim, what’s wrong?”

“There was a phone call from the Yellowstone for Miss Stella.” Tim looked almost nervous.

“Was it Ryan?” Stella pushed herself away from leaning on the fence. “Is he okay?” Ryan would occasionally send a text, but always knew she might not have her phone. He only ever called the barn phone in an emergency when she was here.

“Something big happened. He said to tell you he’s fine, but they need you home right away.”

Her eyes glazed over as she unfocused on everything except her rising heartbeat. Her mouth dropped open as her breathing started to come out in shallow puffs. She didn’t feel when Olivia first grabbed her arm, but it was like she had been electrocuted the second she realized Olivia’s hand was there.

“Liv, I gotta go!” She bolted for the barn to grab her things.

Olivia responded, telling her to go, family comes first; her part of the job could be worked on at a later time, but Stella never heard those words as she ran as fast as her feet would take her.

She didn’t hear anything until she got back to the Yellowstone. As soon as her SUV tires hit the gravel of the ranch, Stella sped up to the main house. Seeing the flurry of activity happening there, she figured that would be the best place to start. Her SUV was barely in park before she hopped out and ran across the grass desperately searching for her brother. There were news vans, reporters, police, EMS, and livestock police all crowded around in the front yard.

It was at that moment that her hearing came back all at once. The chatter from every direction was disorienting. Her eyes were looking but not seeing. Every face was blending in with the next one. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, quicker with each passing second.

She pushed her glasses up while calling out, “Ryan!” Not caring who would look in her direction. “Ryan!!” She hollered out again, sounding more panicked than the first time. Multiple heads snapped in her direction. Lloyd spotted her through the mass of people and moved quickly to her. He grabbed her by the arm gently and guided her to the porch where it was a little more secluded. He knew he had to get her focus. If he didn’t, Stella would raze the whole ranch to ground looking for her brother.

“He’s finishing up something in the house, but he’ll be out soon. He’s okay.” He made sure to try and keep direct eye contact with Stella, trying to keep her glued to the porch. She continued to look around trying to peek at every face that walked by them. She had to physically see her brother to accept that he was alright.

“Stella, look at me!” Lloyd said sternly and shook her to grab her attention. “Your brother is alright. Come with me.”

She finally allowed herself to catch her breath. She trailed closely behind Lloyd, hot on his heels, to the large section of the porch by the front door. He had her sit in one of the chairs, and asked her to stay put. He wasn’t sure exactly how long Ryan would be, but he would be coming out the main door. Stella was in the perfect place to catch him the second he walked out. Lloyd knew Ryan would be glad to see his little sister.

With a numb expression she asked, “What the fuck happened, Lloyd?”

“Some of the herd moved onto tribal land.” He took a deep breath, trying to figure out how he was going to continue this explanation.

“Oh shit, no.” Stella’s shoulders dropped as she whispered.

“Well, both groups butted heads and here we are.” He wasn’t trying to be vague, but he also didn’t want to drop too much on her at once. Especially about Lee.

Stella knew that both groups didn’t always get along, but she never imagined it coming to something that required this much attention from police and news alike. She rubbed her fingertips on her palms trying to get feeling back. Ever since she left Grand Springs her hands had been numb.

Movement from the front door startled Stella into action. She hopped up from the chair and made her way quickly to the door, weaving through livestock police as she went. Kayce and Jamie came out of the house. Kayce, her best friend of 12 years, looked rough. When Stella saw the blood on his shirt, her heart nearly jumped from her chest.

“My God, Kayce!” She rushed over to him to try and get a better look. “Are you okay?” There was a mumbled, “‘m fine, Stell.” He grabbed her hands before she could touch his shirt. Knowing she would thank him later. He gave her hands a squeeze while taking a deep breath to ground himself. Almost as if he was using her as a tether.

Light brown eyes met darker brown. She finally saw the sadness that resided there. Her eyebrows scrunched together and she tilted her head to the left, and wordlessly asked what happened. His eyes dropped and his shoulders looked heavy. Stella’s breathing picked up again, worried by whatever change may be coming. She nodded to Kayce, knowing this was a conversation for another time.

“You’re brother should be right behind me. Go get him, and we’ll talk later.” He squeezed her hand again and let go. More people coming out of the house prompted Stella to give his arm a quick squeeze and move toward the door.

Her eyes locked on her brother, “Ryan!” She propelled herself forward and gripped him in a tight hug. Now that she could physically see that he was okay, her blood pressure started to return to normal. Ryan was her rock. She wouldn’t even dare to fathom the consequences of not having him around.

He squeezed her back and moved them off to the side. He held her tight. Primarily for her, but it also gave him solace because she was safe back here at the ranch.

“Let’s go down to the bunkhouse where it’s quiet. We gotta talk.” He needed to tell her about Lee.

Stella sat forward in the chair bracing herself on her knees. Her brother had just told her Lee was gone. She felt like she was going to vomit. Lee and herself hadn’t been as tight knit as she and Kayce, but she had known both of them since she was 14. He had taught her just as much about horses as Kayce. Hell, they partnered together to train the horses for the ranch. She was flabbergasted. Speechless. She struggled because that very well could have been her brother.

She took deep breaths to keep the nausea down, and placed a hand on her forehead. She pushed her glasses back up her nose and sat back swallowing the lump that was lodged in her throat. She felt guilty for even thinking that, but she also understood the look that Kayce had given her on the porch fully now.

There weren’t any tears being shed. Ryan was concerned, but then remembered that his little sister didn’t like to cry in front of people. Not even him. If she did, it was because she had no control anymore. He didn’t know how she dealt with human death. Animal death? He had seen her deal with it a thousand times over because of the ranch. The work on a ranch doesn’t stop unfortunately. But the untimely passing of a friend? He was worried about how this would go.

“Were you with them?” Stella cleared her throat.

Ryan bit his lip and nodded. “I was a few feet away, and then I got swept off to the side dealing with something else and Kayce was alone with his brother.”

“Oh my god, he was alone? That’s the second time that’s happened to him.”

Ryan knew she was talking about Kayce’s mother and how that whole situation went down. She felt horrible that Kayce had to face that by himself.

Stella knew she would probably cry later on when she was by herself, but she couldn’t even drum up a response to her brother. Other than the occasionally quiet whispered, ‘what the fuck.’ She could understand the disagreement about the herd, and knew things could get rash at times, but her mind was blown that it came to this kind of firing point.

It had been quiet for about five minutes with her staring at the wall where the sink was. “You still with me?”

Stella slowly moved her head to look at Ryan. “Hmm?” She said softly. The energy slowly drained out of her the longer she sat there. He came over and sat next to her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her in sideways.

Ryan comforted her. “Stay with me Stellee.” She leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, letting out a big breath, trying to pretend she was anywhere else but here.

It was quiet for a few moments. Ryan would occasionally rub Stella’s arm. Since he wasn’t sure how far her reaction to the loss would take her, he treaded lightly. He didn’t know if she would react now or later, and he definitely didn’t want to come up on her breaking her hand through a wall.

“I’ve gotta go find Kayce.” Stella started to move restlessly before she got up.

“Yeah, but don’t you think he would want space?”

“If I know anything, space is the last thing his mind needs. And I know he hasn’t been home yet, so he doesn’t have Monica here. I can’t just sit by, Ryan.”

Ryan sighed. His little sister could be one of the most endearing people. If someone had a problem, she refused to let them carry it alone. He was worried one day her back might break.

“I’m gonna go back up to the big house. He’s probably still there.”

Now that the activity had quieted down, Stella poked her head in through the front door. She ran into Beth sitting in the living room, looking very much like she needed to catch her breath. When Stella entered the room she looked up from her long gaze.

“Funny how everyone else employed here knocks, except you. Why is that?” Stella breathed out a sigh at the accusation from Beth. She knew Beth was just in defense mode and didn’t mean to spit fire at her. They got along for the most part.

“Beth… I haven’t knocked on this door since I was 15. I wanted to come check on everyone.”

“There’s nothing to be done except wait for the plan. You know that. You came here to check up on my baby brother, didn’t you?”

“Well, he is my best friend. And you and I both know that being alone is something your brother doesn’t need right now.”

“And you thought you would swoop in and be his savior, huh?

“Not a savior. Just a shoulder.” Stella was getting frustrated.

“Beth, leave her alone.” Kayce’s voice came from behind them. He came from the hallway toward the back of the main sitting room. He nodded toward the porch and Stella did a 180 to make her way around. He placed a hand at the small of her back as he directed her to keep moving. There was a small zip up her spine at the contact. Her back tensed.

He wanted to get them both out of the room before his sister could spit more grief. Stella shook her head and squeezed Beth’s shoulder quickly as they walked by and back out the front door.

Kayce sighed. “I’m sorry about her.”

“You should know by now you don’t have to apologize for your sister. I would have been worried if she hadn’t responded like that.” They shared a chuckle.

Stella seated herself on one of the chairs by the little table. Kayce made himself comfortable in the other. They both gazed out at the vast ranch. They zoned out and let the silence embrace them. Today was chaotic for both of them, in different ways, but tiring nonetheless.

“How the hell did a feud about some cattle that wandered through a broken fence produce this end result? Like, how did we get here Kayce?” Stella was very confused. She hadn’t been on the ranch when the arguing had started about the cattle, land, and who owed the livestock.

“I mean, I understand that it’s a very tender subject about land and all, but…,” she didn’t really know how to continue. Thinking about it made her brain hurt. She sighed.

“My head is spinning too.”

Stella whispered. “Is it selfish if I say I’m glad you’re still here?” Stella adjusted her glasses as she moved her eyes away from him. It was quiet as both of them contemplated her question. Her admission. In a way it was selfish, but he understood the sentiment she was trying to get at.

“I’m not really up to talking just yet, Stell. After I come back for the —,” he halted trying to figure out how to avoid saying the word funeral, finally ignoring the word all together. “We can talk then, okay?”

“I understand.” She pushed her glasses up. “If you or Monica need anything, please let me know and I’ll get it to you guys with lightning speed. Okay? Even if you need someone to take little man for the day or something.” He gave her a look that only the two of them seemed to understand. They stood and bear hugged like their lives depended on it. She knew it would be a few days before he would actually talk. Stella would wait as long as he needed her to.

Neither of them let go for a short minute. They knew that once they did, cursed reality would set in again. For this short span they felt like they were kids again without a worry in the world.

Stella murmured softly, “I’m so sorry this happened,” as she released him from the hug. He nodded, giving her one last glance before he made his way back inside to gather his things to go home.

"Men and brethren, let me freely speak unto you of the patriarch David, that he is both dead and buried... " the Father's voice faded as Stella scanned the crowd of people that had come around for Lee’s service. Everyone from the ranch was there and accounted for amongst other people that knew the family. The only one missing was Kayce. Her eyebrows pulled together. She looked at Monica, and she gave Stella a quiet shrug. He couldn’t have been far. There’s also no way he would have missed his brother’s funeral. She tried to be nonchalant about looking around, but she made eye contact with Beth who gave her a pointed look with a raised eyebrow.

Stella rolled her eyes slightly and kept looking. Not far off she saw a horse that just stood in place. It wasn’t completely out of the ordinary, but from the looks of it, the horse was a mustang. In these particular hills of the ranch property, the most you would find would be a quarter horse if one got out of its designated pasture. Maybe an Appendix or two. No one, that she was aware of, had brought a horse with them today, however.

Just barely above the high grass up at the grave sites, she could see a dirty blond head move back and forth. There he was. She looked to Monica who nodded her permission and Stella silently exited the group. She knew that if anything, Lee would have wanted her to go over to his brother. Lee always joked that they were each other’s Huckleberry. Attached at the hip, and where one was the other was surely not far behind. Most certainly to “fuck some shit up, cause some chaos and leave” as Lee would have said.

Stella’s fond smile at the memory faded as she got closer and heard sniffling coming from Kayce. Her face softened and her heart bled for him. She sat down beside him. The horse paid her little attention, but snorted in acknowledgement and went back to grazing as she folded her legs beneath her. Kayce glanced at her from the side.

When he realized it was her, he turned slightly and made eye contact. Stella pulled her lips together in a small smile, and kept her eyes gentle. They simultaneously leaned toward each other, shoulders touching, as they looked forward. Stella reached over and rubbed his back.

She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and pulled him close sideways and rubbed his arm to offer any sort of comfort to him while they sat there. They both pretended that they were anywhere else, at any other event than his brother’s funeral. She couldn’t believe this had happened, and she felt helpless that she couldn’t change it or do anything to make the hurt less, other than what she was doing right now.

They both heard as the Father finished his sermon, but they remained seated. Even when Stella felt eyes on her back, she stayed. John surveyed the pair closely. That girl, well woman now, had been there through the thick of almost everything for his youngest son since she and her brother showed up on the ranch 12 years ago.

At first, John had been hesitant to have an extra child on the ranch. Especially with his new young wrangler being her parental figure. She turned out to be a great kid, who would pull her own weight and then some. He slowly started to come around to the idea when Kayce started to put up a fight for Stella and Ryan.

She also was the first to throw knuckles when anyone, or anything, came for his youngest. John would swear that she would throw herself in front of a bullet for Kayce. Hell, she threw herself in front of grizzly for him once. Evelyn would have liked her. John couldn’t even begin to think of ways to thank her for keeping Kayce grounded along with Monica’s help. He cleared his throat and came up beside the twosome.

“He's one hell of a horse.” They heard from Stella’s right as John seated himself next to the pair. Stella removed her arm from Kayce’s shoulders, but remained quiet. She wasn’t a part of this conversation.

Kayce sniffled at his dad’s words. “Yeah. Ain't got the breeding of your stud, but he has a heart.”

“I know. I saw.”

“He would have died for me. He almost did.”

John changed the subject. “You want to stay for supper? You can put him in the barn.”

Kayce sniffed loudly and stood. He carefully draped the lead rope over Stella’s lap and handed it to his father. “No. I brought him for you. You can put him in the barn.” She watched as he quickly left to catch up with his family.

“I can take care of him for you, sir.” Stella offered as they both stood.

John looked at her from behind his dark sunglasses and shook his head. “Thank you, Stella, but I’ll take this one up.” As he walked away with the horse, she pursed her lips to the side realizing she was alone. She looked back to the gravesite. She patted her legs trying to decide if she wanted to go back over. ‘By the time you’ve argued with yourself, you could’ve already done it.’ She rolled her eyes at herself and started walking over.

“Hey Lee. I’m so sorry this happened to you.” A little bird sang its song from high in a tree. Stella smiled sadly and fixed her glasses. She hoped it was Lee saying he was listening. She still hadn’t come to grips that he was gone.

“I’ll do what I can for the family, the ranch. To the best of my ability anyhow. Especially for Kayce. I know he was the favorite.” Stella forced herself to look at his place marker. “I guess you’ve left me no choice but to take over your spot as the lead for the horses. If your dad agrees to put me there.” It was a heavy decision, to choose to do nearly anything for the family. It could come with a hefty price tag, but the Dutton’s and the wranglers were all she and Ryan had.

She looked off to where everyone had gone and noticed Ryan was still waiting in the wings for her. “I should probably go catch up with everyone else, but I’ll be around again.” She brushed her skirt off and headed up to the big house on the hill. Everyone was invited for supper. She wasn’t about to turn down Gator’s food. Lee wouldn’t have wanted her to either.

After supper everyone had congregated outside to get some fresh air and talk amongst themselves. The wranglers had parted to one side and Stella stood next to her brother and Colby.

She could see John with Beth and Jamie. They stared off at the helicopter, speaking to each other quietly. Lloyd brought her attention back to the group when he asked her a question.

“I’m sorry, what Lloyd?”

“I asked if you were spendin’ the night, lil’ bit?” She yawned at the exact moment he asked.

“Yeah,” she laughed. “I probably should. I think my overnight bag from Olivia’s is still in my car.”

Comments, thoughts, and commentary is welcome! Just please be gentle lol. 🤓

[f1-disaster-bi]

ohh, that new snippet is so good. I’m fully invested and at the same time my heart is breaking for lando. (best combination) So if you ever write more whether it’ll be context or more story i’ll be there to gobble it up. <33

I will happily write more but for now I give more context to the au!

Lando, as stated, meets Charles at 20 when he is in his first year of university and joins the pack fully a year later. He loves his pack and loves Kimi, Jenson and Seb's pack who are essentially an extension of Lewis and Fernando's pack with how much time they all spend together.

Lando didn't have the best start in life so he's happy to meet Charles and the others. Lando grew up in an abusive pack his family were a part of that looked down on omegas. It was expected that Lando would learn how to care for a home, and then ar 18 he wouldn't go to university, he'd be mated on his birthday and that was that. He was emotionally and physically abused, and the night before he turned 18, he took money he'd saved from odd jobs and birthdays and some from his parents and he ran. He stopped at a police station in his town, told them he was 18 and leaving an abusive pack in case his family filed a missing person's report, and he ran.

He got a job, got a shitty little shoebox apartment, and he worked himself to the bone for two years to put himself into university because he wanted to have a carer and a life and eventually, a pack.

So when he meets Lewis and Kimi’s packs through Charles, he's a little wary but it's everything he ever wanted. They're loving and respectful. They never push his boundaries, accept him not talking about his family or much about his life before he came to this city at 18, and he meets Daniel who he has a long crush on before theybstart secretly courting.

The day he leaves, Lando had seen his parents when he went to work on a group project with his classmate Oscar in a cafe, and he panics. He doesn't think they saw him, but it immediately triggers him and when he gets home, he wants comfort. He tries to nest with the others or cuddle with them, and they all get annoyed and brush him off because of different reasons. Mainly they're all working from home and stressed and having bad days and unfortunately, Landos need for comfort just rubs them wrong and everyone keeps snapping at him until he drops the plate and Lewis loses it.

In that moment, Lewis reminds Lando so much of his old pack that he just shuts down and when Lewis sends him to his room because "None of us want to see you right now Lando", Lando just internalises everything they said and it just confirms what his parents used to tell him: he is a burden, a waste, useless, an idiot

So he leaves because he wants what's best for his pack, and if that's him gone, then so be it.....except he didn't know that his parents saw him in the cafe.....

When Charles wakes up, and makes Landos favourite breakfast out of guilt and wanting to apologise to Lando....its him who finds Landos empty room with missing stuff and a note saying he's gone and he screams because this isn't what they wanted

[tomorrowusa]

A rich guy who died 17 years ago is still funding rightwing causes. The only good news is that the money runs out in 2025.

From the Ambien and Dramamine in millions of bathroom medicine cabinets, to the sugar substitute that makes diet sodas sweet, to the first-ever birth control pill, some of America’s most common medicines and supplements can be traced back to the G.D. Searle pharmaceutical company. Now, more than a century after the company’s founding, the massive family fortune built from those scientific advances has emerged as a major benefactor of the right, mostly out of the public eye. The Searle Freedom Trust, a foundation funded by the company’s former chairman, has doled out more than $200 million in grants over the last decade, sending more money to conservative nonprofits than nearly any other private foundation in recent years, according to a CNN analysis. This year, the Searle trust is poised to play an even bigger role as it empties out its coffers. Following the wishes of its founder, the late Daniel C. Searle, the trust is closing down in 2025 and planning to award most of its last major grants in 2024. That means a potential windfall during a key election year for groups that push conservative policies: as of the beginning of 2023, according to its most recent tax return, the trust had more than $59 million left to spend.

Thanks to the Republican Supreme Court, the filthy rich can shit money into the coffers of rightwing causes and candidates.

“The fact that our political system works in a way where wealthy people who died years ago can continue to have such profound influence over our politics and our beliefs about science and the world is just incredibly damaging,” said Galen Hall, a University of Michigan researcher who’s studied the flow of money from foundations like the Searle trust to climate change denial groups. “It’s one of the key aspects of American politics that makes positive change on issues like climate change so difficult.” [ ... ] The Searle trust is one of the most prolific funders of conservative groups among all private foundations, according to a CNN analysis of nonprofit tax data. From 2020 through 2022, it has given a total of more than $29 million to a selection of conservative nonprofits identified by CNN. Only one other private foundation, the Sarah Scaife Foundation, reported giving more to the groups over the same time period, based on data from hundreds of thousands of public tax filings. The analysis only included publicly reported donations, so it may be missing some foundations that donated through donor-advised funds, which help conceal the path of their money.

The billionaires and their poorer multimillionaire buddies know that liberals tend to overlook state governments. So they focus disproportionately on controlling state legislatures and passing reactionary laws. The late Daniel C. Searle was no exception.

The trust has also given more than $2.75 million to the American Legislative Exchange Council, which over the years has written cookie-cutter model legislation that has inspired conservative bills around the US – including laws that expanded the use of private prisons, restricted the ability of state pension funds to consider environmental risks when making investments, and limited local governments’ ability to restrict firearms. The Searle trust has “been a key financial driver of the development of right-wing political infrastructure,” said Brendan Fischer, the deputy executive director of the progressive watchdog group Documented. “They’ve had a pretty successful track record in areas including attacks on workers’ rights, the freedom to vote, state efforts to thwart action on climate change.”

We can no longer afford to be slackers when it comes to state politics. Increasingly we need to give extremist Republicans more pushback in state capitals.

Take more interest in legislative matters in your state. Let news outlets know you want more coverage of what legislatures are up to. Support outlets which already do provide such coverage.

And find out who exactly is representing you in the legislature. If it's MAGA Republicans who get loads of campaign contributions from billionaire sugar daddies, work for their defeat in the next state election.

Find Your Legislators Look your legislators up by address or use your current location.

This is a Substack about state politics by the idiosyncratic Carolyn Fiddler. It looks at state politics from a national and Democratic perspective. It's worth subscribing to.

This Week in Statehouse Action

It's good though it isn't a substitute for a news source for your specific state's politics.

Filthy rich rightwingers can be stopped if we get involved and remain focused. Winners in politics are not people with short attention spans.

[bostonwalks]

Meet Ella Waweya, the IDF's top Muslim woman, speaking out to the Arab world - exclusive ‘Captain Ella’ tells the ‘Magazine’ about her work as IDF spokesperson to the Arab world. https://www.jpost.com/israel-hamas-war/article-809892

The walls of the office of Maj. Ella Waweya, 34, at the IDF spokesperson headquarters in northern Tel Aviv, are dotted with diplomas, certificates of merit, and family pictures, as well as beautiful Arabic calligraphy of the Quran, alongside a Druze flag, a cross, a small copy of the Zohar (Jewish mysticism book), and flags of participating Abraham Accords countries. 

“I don’t leave anyone behind,” she says, smiling.

Waweya has served in the army for 10 years. She hails from the Arab Israeli town of Kalansuwa, where all the citizens are Muslim Arabs. Her formal title is deputy spokesperson for the Arab world and head of the Arab communications department, working under IDF Arabic spokesperson Col. Avichai Adraee. 

“In my area at that time there were no soldiers in the IDF – certainly not female soldiers; though some did enlist in the police,” she says. She enlisted at the relatively late age of 24, after first securing a bachelor’s degree in communications and a master’s degree in government studies.

What led you to enlist?

It all started with a dilemma I felt regarding my identity. I was 12 during the Second Intifada, and the only channel we used to watch was Al Jazeera. Interestingly, Shireen Abu Akleh had just started her position, and we would see her and her aggressiveness while reporting.

I looked at her and said to myself: ‘I want to be a journalist, but not like her.’ My message would be different, coming not from a blindly Palestinian point of view but as part of my identity dilemma. People always wanted to define me, whether as an ‘Arab of ’48’ or an Israeli Arab. Everyone defined me differently – except for myself.

I had actually wanted to be a doctor, but by then I already wanted to be a journalist. I wanted to show ‘my side,’ even though at that time I didn’t know what it was exactly.

At age 16, I got my ID as is customary in Israel. It was blue. I realized that I am Israeli and thought to myself that if I am Israeli, I must do something about it. The state brought me this identity, and I was looking for ways to associate myself with being Israeli. There was no awareness back then, and the Internet was not very developed, so I couldn’t learn online. I had to wait with these feelings bubbling inside me.

Time passed, but the thoughts did not stop. When I started my bachelor’s degree, I decided to take part in National Service at the Meir Medical Center in Kfar Saba. During my time there, I remember playing chess with one of the security guards, a Bedouin, during a sleepy night shift. He suddenly asked me, ‘Why didn’t you go to the army?’ And I said. ‘I wanted to, but they wouldn’t want me because I’m an Arab woman.’ He connected me with Col. Yossi Haddad, who was the head of the Bedouin tracker unit, to whom I give credit for my enlistment.

When I finished my degree in 2012, I took part in a press conference in Eilat. There was a panel regarding recruitment of the haredim [ultra-Orthodox] headed by then-IDF spokesperson Polly Mordechai and esteemed journalist Roni Daniel. One ultra-Orthodox person stood up and started explaining why he and his society shouldn’t enlist in the army. 

I was 21 and asked to speak. I told that person: ‘Shame on you! As a Muslim Arab, I wish I could join the army!’ Suddenly everyone started clapping. I didn’t understand why, but at the end of the panel both Mordechai and Daniel turned to me, commending me for what I had said. Mordechai asked his secretary to take my details to help me enlist. From there, everything started to unfold.

Suddenly, phone calls began to come, and I was offered a post at the IDF Spokespersons Unit, at first as a non-officer commander. I was mainly happy to know that I would be a commander. In fact, I had no idea that there were so many functions in the IDF. I thought that there were only combatants and thought I’d enlist in Caracal [an all-female or mixed combat unit in the IDF].

This week, you celebrated 10 years in the IDF. How do you feel about it? 

It was the best decision I ever made. Enlisting was a personal decision; I didn’t consult anyone. The environment was not one that encouraged enlisting; I just decided one day to get up and get on that bus.

When someone asks me for advice about enlisting and lying about it to their parents, I stress that my story should not be understood as an encouragement to lie. But I do stress that they must know how to make these personal decisions and do what is right for them. 

In 2015, you received a mark of honor from the president. 

I was featured in the newspaper with a pixelated picture, reading something like ‘Cadet Ella from Kalansuwa, a trailblazer, serves in the IDF. Only her mother knows and she took it hard, but she is proud to serve...’ etc. This was false because nobody knew it back then. But then my parents saw the article and recognized the blurry photo. The fact that I was the only Ella from Kalansuwa also gave it away. Both my family and I began getting some unpleasant messages from people around us.

But we didn’t look back, we looked toward the future. I used to cry when I talked about it, but today I actually laugh because of all the changes we went through. Look at the difference between that picture and this one (she points at the newspaper clip and then at a photo on the other side of the room showing her mother, wearing a hijab, awarding Waweya her army ranks).

If you ask me to describe my mother with one word, I would say she’s a hero. She also went through a lot and suffered due to my decision to join the IDF. Today, my mother is ill with cancer, and when I get to the hospital, the doctors are always waiting to meet me because she tells them about me, and it makes me understand how proud she is of me. During the war, she told me to come to her chemotherapy appointment wearing my uniform. 

The same goes for my siblings, who are very proud of me and trust me, even with the smallest things. They think the fact that I’m a soldier means that I’m an expert in everything security related, so they ask me for tips about getting through the airport, for instance. They also ask me to lift heavy things when they need help, also because I’m a soldier. This means that the army has a good name, that people believe it is powerful.

In this time of war, what does your job entail?

I manage communications through the Middle East and Arabic department. I’m responsible for everything that happens in digital media and for interviews with the Arab media. We work a lot with Arab media outlets, and we strive to present the truth about Israel and the IDF. Our job is to speak for the IDF. If we don’t talk about what happened on Oct. 7, for instance, the Arab world will just not know anything about it. Arab media has a lot of influence on Arab public opinion, and they often see only one side. We work to present a different side and try to influence what happens at home. This is true even for my mother. When she watches Al-Hadath or al-Arabiya [Saudi channels], she also wants to see a person in uniform telling her our narrative. This makes the image more balanced.

How do you find working with the Arab media?

There are channels that serve as outright mouthpieces of Hamas, spewing the same lies of Hamas. Take Al Jazeera, for example. Just a few months ago, they outrageously lied about IDF soldiers allegedly raping Gazan women. We also work on monitoring, analyzing, and understanding what is being said in the media, and thus make our messages more precise and on topic. When Al Jazeera put forward such a lie, we responded forcefully, and even the former director of Al Jazeera had to tweet that Al Jazeera’s lie went too far. That’s our influence. 

I sometimes use irony and sarcasm while being interviewed. I was interviewed by a Russian Arabic-language outlet, Russia Al-Yawm. The presenter quoted a survey about how Gazans think that Hamas won, and I answered: ‘Of course they have won – in destroying the future of Gazans, the schools, the mosques, the hospitals. If this is victory, then Ahlan wa Sahlan. So you want to tell me that they have won? It will take them years to rebuild the infrastructure in Gaza. Here, things are re-blooming. Yes, they murdered and destroyed, but we can look back, learn our lessons, embrace each other, and move forward.’

I also explain that the real victory is that the war has managed to unite all of the citizens of Israel. You see how Christians, Bedouins, Muslims, and Jews all chip in, prepare food for soldiers, and help each other. Everyone here experiences the same pain. 

Another strategy that my team and I apply is the juxtaposition of Hamas leaders on the one hand, and the people of Gaza on the other. 

Only this week, Hamas leader Khaled Meshaal said to an Al-Arabiya presenter: ‘Have you ever heard anyone from Gaza complain about what is happening?’ And I say, ‘Wa hayat rabbak [“Oh, come on”] – just take a look at Gaza networks.’ We published Meshaal’s interview with authentic videos of Gazans who complain about the situation and Hamas. He doesn’t grasp what his people are going through because he is simply not there.

We try to reach the hearts of the masses by coming up with catchy messages. We came up with a rhyming slogan that says ‘The leaders are in bliss, but the people are in hell.’ We brand Hamas leaders as leading a ‘jihad of hotels.’

I saw a short clip of a law student from Gaza who said, ‘My dream is lost,’ and it truly touched me, precisely because I am a woman, an Arab, and an Israeli, who has learned the morality and values of the IDF. The first thing that we study in basic training is the IDF Code of Ethics document. 

So yes, I say that they are poor to have such bad leaders. The hadith [Islam’s oral traditions regarding the prophet Mohammad] says: ‘All of you are guardians, and all of you are responsible for your subjects.’ Hamas leadership is the exact opposite.

As a Muslim, do you use the Quran and Islamic traditions often in your content?

If I see fit to use a hadith, I will use it in our media and in interviews. One of the edicts of Muhammad before a war was not to kill a man, a woman, or an animal. When you see the videos of investigations of Hamas militants, and you see the father and son who admit that they both raped the same woman, is this what Islam says? Is this what the prophet says? Not at all. And shame on them. Such people are a shame to Islam. We call them najis [“impure”] in Arabic.

Regardless, I usually prefer to use my colloquial dialect of Arabic rather than speak in Modern Standard Arabic. I try to speak to the common people. Those Hamas terrorists are also common people, they understand my language. If needed, I can speak the Lebanese dialect or any other dialect. I want to talk to their hearts.

Avichai [Adraee] speaks as an official speaking to officials and enemies, he speaks to the mind. I try to speak more to the heart and more down to earth. I’m a simple person. I may be senior in rank, but that doesn’t mean much in this game.

I try to speak to people at their level. I feel them, and this is not just an empty slogan. I want to make them aware of what is happening, since they may be in a bubble and don’t see the whole picture. Let them come to my office and look at all these certificates. I want the girls in Gaza to be like me. May their life be full of certificates, excellence, success, education. I don’t want any person to have their dreams taken away from them as Hamas has done to this generation.

I have several videos where I appeal to Gazan women specifically. Mothers, sisters, daughters. I also sometimes direct my messages directly to the terrorists. I ask them: ‘What kind of man are you?’ Arab men have this image of ‘family honor.’ I tell them, ‘You kill, rape, and burn – and leave your mother and sister without a home. Where is your honor?’ When they try to harm us, they also inflict harm on their own homes and people.

Some would ask: Hamas does claim to speak in the name of Islam. Their name is short for the “Islamic Resistance Movement” in Arabic, after all.

When we said ‘Hamas is ISIS,’ that is exactly what we meant. ISIS is not Islam. By the way, it should be emphasized that Hamas is even worse than ISIS. Just look at what they are doing to their own people – they kill them, steal their food, take away their aid. If the residents only knew how much money went into Gaza and where it ended up. This is not Islam, this is simply pure political corruption.

If only Hamas cared about their people, Gaza would have become a paradise. They have beaches, hotels, villas – but all of this goes to Hamas, not to the common people. What came out of Oct. 7 in the end? Has [Hamas leader] Yahya Sinwar really thought ahead? If he really guessed that all this destruction would ensue and still kept on with his plan – his people should wake up and do something about it.

Islam will never tell you to kill and do what they did on Oct. 7. They hurt innocent people on Simchat Torah. The horror movie compiled by the IDF Spokespersons Unit shows two little children who ran to a bomb shelter with their father, who is killed by Hamas militants right in front of their eyes. The children return to the house, crying. One of them says ‘I can’t see anything!’ but the Hamas terrorist simply takes a Coca-Cola bottle from the fridge, sits down, and drinks it calmly. 

Another recording from the film shows a young terrorist calling his parents excitedly: ‘Yaba [“Daddy”], I killed 10 Jews with my bare hands!’ and his father answers him: ‘May Allah bless you!’ There are no words to describe this. This is certainly not the teaching of Islam.

How can you know that your messages come across to the other side?

The relocation of populations from war zones is the best example of proving that our messages are getting through. The army used all kinds of ways to motivate the population. At first, they [the Gazans] didn’t budge, but after we tweeted in Arabic showing maps of designated safe zones, people started moving. That’s how you know it works. On TikTok, we can also see that Gazans watch our content. That’s not to say that they support us, but they certainly know that Hamas is lying to them.

Sometimes there are follow-ups after we’re interviewed by the media. Even when our contents face harsh criticism, it still means that people were affected and that it got to them. I also don’t view criticism as negative but as something that teaches us along the way. We ask for feedback from people from all kinds of countries, those that have peace [agreements] with Israel and those that don’t. When I read about the discourse in the media and social networks, I understand how to address the target audience.

As I mentioned earlier, I complement Avichai; therefore, I must understand what interests young crowds. Do they want to hear me threaten Hamas leaders, or see me in the middle of an exercise with the Caracal unit? Or would they prefer to see me running with a battalion or see a female fighter arresting a Hamas terrorist? We build our strategy from these questions.

When the message is authentic, it works better. When it’s too edited or has too many cuts, it won’t work. We try to learn from our mistakes. We are now trying to build a brand of colors for my social media accounts, and I don’t know if the branding will work. But this is exactly what trial and error is all about.

What are the main characteristics of the media in this part of the world?

Take Al Jazeera. There are always delays in interviews with Israeli guests; that’s how they can control what is being said. This is done on purpose so that people don’t hear everything they have to say. Israelis are only brought on to claim that the TV channel are ‘neutral,’ but in fact it is clear that there is a bias.

In other places, there are some anchors who interrupt you constantly. I believe in conversation. If you have decided to host somebody, let them speak! Are you an anchor or a commentator? If you decide to interview someone who asks questions, ask what the audience wants to ask, not what’s in your gut and you want to get out.

In another context, frequently in Arab media, when viewers see a person in a uniform with medals, it automatically gives their words more authority. We are also a trusted source for many. We sometimes receive inquiries from journalists about issues not directly related to the army, but they contact us because they know we are trustworthy.

Take the story of the Al-Mamadani hospital. Hamas came out minutes later and lied that Israel killed 500 people. It took us about three hours to delve into the details and respond. This proves that we do not say anything before the incident is thoroughly investigated. There is pressure, the audience wants to understand more about what happened, but we can’t issue a statement without properly investigating. This is why they trust us in much of the Arab media and want to see us on their screens.

There are journalists from the Arab media whom I respect who come up with questions that the audience truly wants to ask. A hard question is not necessarily a hostile one. My mother at home also wants answers to difficult questions, and our place is to answer the difficult questions as well. 

When we’re asked about the casualties in the Gaza Strip – of course, there are unfortunate casualties when Hamas uses people to conceal themselves, hide weapons, and launch rockets. Give me one hospital in the US that has weapons hidden in there. In Gaza there is, and that’s the difference. So are schools, which have tunnels for terrorist purposes dug under them. Even in mosques. Since when are mosques a place for murder? Give me one Quranic verse or hadith that permits that. 

Do people recognize you in the streets?

It happens to me a lot that I just walk around, and people stop me and say that they know me. In Paris, a man from Algeria started an unpleasant conversation with me, but we ended it with a handshake and a selfie. I believe in conversation, not in shouting. I could have taken a flag out of my bag, turned on a camera to take pictures of myself, and shout. But that is not a conversation.

In September, I went to a Lebanese restaurant in New York (what can you do? – there is no real food to eat in the US), and in every Arab restaurant I went to, people recognized me. Even here on the street some people recognize me. It’s fun, but it also depends on when. Asking for a selfie while I’m in the middle of biting into my hamburger can be irritating at times [she laughs].

I also get contacted on social media, especially people from Gaza. They ask me, ‘I am in Khan Yunis; can I leave and go somewhere else?’ I never have enough time to answer everyone, but it’s important to answer whomever I can because at the end of the day, this is what social media is all about, and our goal is to have a conversation.

I happened to meet with Gazans in person, too, at the Erez crossing. Some came to receive medical treatment in Israel. At the end, they thanked us for the medical treatment. Some of them also spoke to me against Hamas. 

What would your message to our readers be?

I am a woman, an Arab, a Muslim, an Israeli, and an officer in the IDF. This truly shows the democracy of our country, of our culture here, that we can all be here together. The truth is never only one-sided. I say to everyone out there: ‘Come and visit Israel, no matter your language or religion. Come to our beautiful country for a few days and understand what is going on in Lebanon; understand why our war is just.’ 

Let them go and walk around in Judea and Samaria and see what happens if you say that you’re Jewish, and they’ll understand straight away how much we must fight to keep the Jewish people in the State of Israel safe.

I say this as a Muslim: We know how to live together, and that’s how it should be. We need to help each other and remain together. It’s especially fun to walk around Israel and hear all the languages and see the diversity. Israel is not only about a conflict between Arabs and Jews. Israel is fun. And even when there are frictions it’s because we are one family, as we saw in this war which reunited us.

This is the title of the State of Israel – a family. So, it’s no wonder that people call each other ‘brother’ in the streets.

Related Tags

[thatoctokittenclutchinganotebook]

I’ve read a lot of AUs where DAnny Fenton gets adopted by the Bats (actually what got me to watch Danny Phantom in the first place) but what if it was Dani who was taken in? This little ghost girl, who looks a lot younger than Danny, is flying around Gotham and has various encounters with the Bats, but keeps flying away or running away. They don’t realise at first that both her forms are one person. Jason looks out for the street kids in Gotham, and this one avoids all the gangs. She’s gone to Gotham to hide out from Vlad, because he’s afraid of going into Batman’s city.  She stays away from Batman herself as much as she can. She doesn’t want to be forced out of Gotham. Phantom (she uses that name still) is hardly seen, except at night committing very minor crimes (like for food, or mischief like breaking into an aquarium to see all the animals at night).  Dani is seen at homeless shelters and in the streets, always vanishing before anyone can approach her. Until she starts destabilising again.  It’s hard to get news from Amity in Gotham. A lot of things just don’t seem to get out. She tries to fly there, to get to Danny, but she’s destabilising and falls. One of the Batfam (I’m not sure who - Duke or Cass?) finds her and tries to help her.  “A kid, a meta I think, she’s almost dissolving and reforming-” They take her to the Justice League. They manage to use a form of stasis to keep her from destabilising completely, but are at a loss about how to save her.  Except for a theory that ectoplasm might be related to Lazarus water. She’s in stasis, but I would handwave it (like all comic books science) so she can talk but not move beyond that. She’s conscious but not able to use her powers. She and Damian have a combative relationship that becomes a grudging respect. I’m not sure how it would get to this point, but I have the idea of Damian stealing Lazarus water for her, believing it will help her. Bruce, during all this, would be looking for clues to her identity. Not to return her to a family she ran away from, but to find out if they know how to help her. He doesn’t find anything except a missing persons report for a Daniel Fenton, and some pleas broadcast on television funded by Vlad Masters (the most suspicious millionaire after Lex Luthor).  Dani is clearly not Danny, because she’s younger etc. But Bruce also finds records of a Danny Phantom. If he hadn’t seen Dani’s two forms, he wouldn’t have realised that Danny Phantom and Danny Fenton were the same. He has this time. And the two ghost hunters who were Danny Fenton’s parents must know something. Danny was identified as having ectoplasm in his body by the Guys in white, and he was carted off to be “cured” by them. Maddie did not approve. Jack did, because he’s a huge fan of them. During their attempted to “cure” him, they nearly kill him and cause him t come close to destabilising. He loses control of his powers and they discover he’s Danny Phantom. He lets loose with a ghostly wail and causes an ice storm through amity park. He, and other ghostly or “ecto-contaminated” prisoners make a break for the Ghost portal with help from Jazz, Sam and Tucker.  Once inside, Danny tells Jazz, Sam and Tucker they should leave, because he’s got to make sure the GIW can’t get in, and that no more ghosts can haunt Amity Park. They refuse. They’re pretty sure they’d be next on the list to be “cured”, anyway. Jazz had moved out at this point, having become 18. Danny uses all his remaining strength to help the others through the portal before turning back to destroy it. He nearly kills himself doing it, and falls into a deep unconsciousness. He spends nearly a year being cared for by Frostbite before he recovers enough to leave.

Danielle is not going to tell these superheroes or millionaires about ghosts or the ghost portal. She’s certain that if they know for sure she’s part ghost, she’ll be in big trouble because of the anti-ecto laws. She lets it slip to one of the other kids that it’s illegal for her to exist (Damian? Jon? I could set it in a different time and have it be a Titan?).  Bruce arranges a Bat-Burglary of Fentonworks. Jason sets off a Ghost Alarm. No one knows why. They can’t find anything that they think would work, but do find a weirdly encrypted set of files on the computer that had belonged to the missing Danny Fenton. They take them. The Fentons are woken by the alarm, but are restrained by whichever disguised Batfam member is there. Valerie also hears the alarm. Hoping it’s Danny (she knows his identity by this point), but fearing that someone’s managed to reopen the ghost portal, she heads towards there. After a complicated confrontation, she’s taken to see Dani. She explains how they helped her before. They treat her with the ecto-dejector, but they know now that it might only be a temporary fix. Dani is furious that Valerie has revealed she’s part ghost. Valerie’s like “They were searching Fentonworks, they already knew.” Valerie and Dani end up being pals. Dani and Valerie both end up joining whichever young superhero team is in place - the Teen Titans or Young Justice - and Bruce Wayne, Oliver Queen (if he’s still rich?) and Mento (can’t remember his real name) fund the repealing of the Anti-ecto laws. Tucker has figured out a way to, with help from the infinimap and clockwork, get signals from outside the ghost zone. Sam, Jazz and Tucker are all developing powers at this point due to the ongoing exposure to the Ghost zone, so know it’s not safe to leave. Possibly one of them actually died and became a ghost, and has really strong powers?

Danny finds out when he sees his “little cousin” on the news. The Fentons raise a fuss, saying that she’s a ghost, and the Justice League close ranks around her. Dani yells at them on live TV that they got Danny killed by the Guys in white, revealing his identity (she genuinely thinks he’s dead).  Danny is prepared to fly out and protect her with everything he’s got, but the Justice League are protecting her. WHen asked why they are breaking the Anti-ecto laws, they make a statement that those laws are unjust and that Danielle Phantom is a child, not a monster. The Fentons do not come across well. Danny doesn’t leave, doesn’t dare leave, until the Anti-Ecto laws are repealed. Even then, he’s scared it’s a trick.  He leaves, and tries to find a safe way to approach Dani. The Boo-merang finds him first. Not because it was set off on purpose, but because it’s still keyed to his ecto signature. While he was in the ghost zone, with no stable portals, it functioned like a normal boomerang. The Batkids (possibly Duke?) are messing around with it when it flies off in a bizarre direction. THey follow. They see Danny Phantom, a little dazed and rubbing his head but gearing up to fight. Dani runs past the others to hug him. Dani Wayne is the adopted child of Bruce Wayne, with a whole host of siblings. That doesn’t mean she isn’t delighted to have her “cousin” back.  Danny can’t do the secret identity thing anymore, after everything was revealed, and ends up splitting his time between one of the super teams and the Ghost Zone. Close on Frostbite whispering “Did anyone ever tell him that he’s the Ghost King?” I’ll probably never end up writing this, because I never have the spoons or time to write anymore, but writing out the idea was really fun. If anyone wants to “adopt” the idea let me know :D

[dahliadew]

Danny Fenton, soul survivor (dp fanfic prompt (maybe crossover))

Over time across different cities in different states, various disasters, both man made and natural, have occurred across America. Each would have been remembered as a tragedy in the minds of the aging residents that experienced them. If not for the strange case of one name littered throughout each event. One Daniel Fenton has seemingly haunted reports and records of each event. Either survivor or soul witnesses to the events, he smilingly is always there, left behind whatever tragedy has occurred.

Ten years before this document's writing, a passenger bus crashed in Fargo, Minnesota, causing the deaths of all those aboard and those in a second vehicle involved in the crash. All involved died before they could reach the hospital except for a young man, only identifying himself as "Danny," After being taken to the hospital, he was only found to have minor cuts and abrasions but was otherwise fine. Not much information could be gleaned from the young man as early on in his stay at the hospital, he disappeared, leaving investigators to fill in the gasps. He was found to have no connections to the other passengers on board, which raised more questions as an unaccompanied minor would have needed more information and documentation to board the bus. But after contacting the ticketing office, no such information could be found. And with the accident easily explained as a mechanical error resulting from poor maintenance on the part of the bussing company, there was little left to investigate. However, one investigator claimed to see the boy once on the edge of town days after the final funeral after the case had wrapped up. Staring off into the sky, snow drifting down onto his face. Neither spoke nor moved, but like before, the boy seemed to vanish again, this time into the snow. It was mentioned at the bottom of the report in a penciled-in line made years after the report had been finalized that in those moments, the unnamed officer had not seen the boy's breath while staring, entranced. He notes his breath drifting on the winds, but the boy stands as still as the breath he didn't breathe.

Accounts similar to this litter the different reports from civilianize and officers alike, some more fantastical than others. But all agree that some part of the boy never left their towns. And these reports are not limited to small-town legends but are extended to federal agencies, as in the case of the crash of flight 187 from New York to Florida.

In a recently unsealed NTSB (The National Transportation Safety Board) document detailing the fate of flight 187 on the night of June 7th, 1968, a single blurred photo with a name scrawled unceremoniously on the bottom lies at the end of the file. The image depicts a boy from 14 to 16 lying on a stretcher in a makeshift triage, presumable on the crash site. The name, like before, says "Danny." When flight 187 went down, a rapid response was organized to assist any of the passengers who may have survived the crash. But as the collision occurred in the middle of the Florida swamps, hopes were not high, and as many predicted, all of those they found on the first day of search and rescue were deceased. But a boy was miraculously found as the sun rose and the cicadas sang on the second day. This time with much more extensive injury but none that those on site believed would lead to his death. With the hope renewed for other passengers and the closest hospital over a day away, it was decided to keep the boy on site with the medical team already present. Unfortunately, no others were found, leaving a solitary, motionless boy on a bed. He had woken up sporadically but never could remain awake. He could identify himself in one of these waking spells, but only his first name. As news spread of the crash and one passenger's survival, the family began to descend to the hospital where the boy had been transferred. But like before, no one could claim the boy, and no connection to any other passenger could be found. Leaving another group of investigators with the mystery of the boy's origin; this time, with the aid of federal resources, they could investigate more leads, but none would result in any concrete information. Three months after the boy had been found and the bodies buried, he disappeared again, with one attending doctor noting how none of the monitors alerted them to the boy's absences.

The oldest record of the boy's involvement in a tragedy lies in an unfinished report of an explosion and fire at a fast food restaurant in the 1950s from a now deserted town in the American midwest. This fire in the town of amity park took the lives of 6 people Jack and Madeline Fenton, their daughter jasmine, friends Samantha Mason and Tucker Foley, and their high school teacher Mr. Lancer. The only witness to this tragedy was reportedly the couple's young son caught in the blaze, Daniel "Danny" Fenton. Little is known about the boy from before or after the accident. And unlike the other incidences, this was the only accident without a definitive cause. It has been proposed that the presence of the mysterious boy and the investigation into him led the investigator to discover the true reasons for these events. In the case of the bus crash, investigating the company's inner workings that allowed for a minor with no documentation to travel led investigators to the company's history of mismanagement and cost-cutting. As for the plane crash, the renewed vigor of finding the boy alive allowed teams to find the plane's black box before it could have been destroyed or lost in a storm that later washed over the crash site. Those preaching this theory have stated that the boy is a Spector that can predict these events before they happen, and while he can stop them, he can’t, at the very least, give the family the answers that he was denied.

However, this is meanly a theory, and as in the 30 documented cases of the boy starting in the 50s up to 2009, wherein it is believed that he last appeared, there are only three photos. One of the original Dannal, the photo as mentioned above taken at the plane crash, and one final picture published in a local newspaper in an unnamed town with what looks like said a familiar-looking boy standing in a crowd watching the unveiling of a marmoreal.

Currently, these are ghost stories haunting the shadows of towns scarred by tragedy; more tales of the boy's travels permeate these files. And under normal circumstances, they would continue to rest in the bowels of their files, but as for last night, a team has begun investigating these events and the figure who resides within them.

(hi, sorry for this being so long; it's a weird plot idea I've been working with for a little while. I think it's up to whoever uses this prompt if they want to make it a crossover because I can see it working for something like supernatural, criminal minds, or maybe the DCU if the writer has batman investigating a recent incident in his city that may have ties to past events. But idk hope you guys like it, and to anyone who wants to use this prompt, have fun and go nuts!)