#ghost intentionally taking it off and he does it out of reflex?

[s0fter-sin]

my favourite soapghost trope is soap accidentally seeing ghost without his mask and instantly covering his eyes so he doesn’t see anything

[rogue--nation]

Uncommon Simon Ghost Riley (mostly for OG than Reboot) Headcanons that I find realistic.

1. Social Anxiety and Communication Issues. Simon finds it difficult to communicate with people outside his field of work, especially women. He doesn't have much experience with them and he is afraid to be perceived as a freak. However, women are usually afraid of him, sometimes curious, but keep away, feeling this sense of uneasiness, awkwardness around him. It is simply because he doesn't know how to be a so called normal person. Nothing about him is quite normal. Military has always been a significant part of his life, of him entirely. He doesn't know what to talk about or even finds civilian life boring. Every time he is on a shore leave he feels like an outsider among the locals. He keeps to himself to save himself from a conflict or an embarrassment. But if he gets comfortable enough around someone, he can be perceived as a very interesting and intelligent person. Simon usually gets rid of this anxiety by drinking. A little bit of alcohol percentage really makes him a normal person.

2. Soldier intuition and reflexes. It helps him a lot and sometimes... It causes trouble. Intuition sure saves his life in tricky situations and also this same intuition makes him read the signs wrong and cause a misunderstanding, a fight or a conflict, especially around civilians. Let's say, he casually activates his fight or flight response. Not always, of course, but there are some instances that make his life a lot harder than it has to be.

3. Adrenaline addiction. He is very paranoid. Always ready for a fight. Maybe even looking for it, looking for trouble. Civilian life indeed is boring for him for this lack of adrenaline release, so sometimes he intentionally escalates situation to let out some steam, despite being a very calm person by nature. (IDK maybe that's why he still lives in Manchester, there's always trouble).

4. PTSD. Yes, he suffers from it. Especially after Brazil and Rojas. He's been tortured psychologically, physically. Beaten up, raped, buried alive with a corpse. And he fucking survived. It didn't make him stronger, it broke him. It killed something that doesn't let him step away now. This very mission has branded him, cursed him to go on and never lay down his weapon. There's no way back from battlefield for him. He has nightmares, but tries to cope with them. Most of the time he is to tired to have a very emotional reaction to such dreams. And he wears himself down to have a dreamless sleep.

5. He knows a bit of Spanish and Portuguese. And he understands when locals speak these languages, he can read and easily communicate, but he prefers to not show off this skill too much, this is a tactical decision. The less enemy knows about you, the less they're expecting.

6. Detachment from him face. He almost forgot how he looks like in the mirror, he barely looks in it. When he thinks about his face, he mostly thinks about his mask. It's a part of him now, like an another layer of skin. The skull pattern on it is an echo from the masquerade paint he had on his face during Los Muertos. He metaphorically died back there in Brazil, died in the hands of his torturers. He is shell of a man he used to be. He is Ghost now. Phantasma.

When he has to take it off, especially in civilian environment, he feels naked, unsafe. Like if he is stripped of something that makes him who he is. It's almost an equivalent for a regular person to put on a mask and hide their face. The mask IS Simon's face.

7. Emotional spectre and control of them. He has a hard time processing and understanding his emotions sometimes. He reads anger well. Despair, too. They're common. But others, more complex states are a mystery to him. Cause-and-effect relationships of his own mind are troubling time to time. He well knows what can trigger him. And when Simon understands what's bothering him, he can develop means to control it.

The struggle to read himself, however, does not affect his ability to read others, especially the enemies. He can predict what they're about to do, how they're going to react.

On the outside, he tries not to show much, but his voice reveals his emotions in critical moments: the screams, the stutter, the growl.

8. Need for affection. Like any other human being he needs attention, care, words of affirmation. He lacks it in his life. Yeah, he is on a good terms with his team, he is stoic and self-contained, but deep inside he is needy. Physical touch, emotional connection, romantic love.. he aches for it. But his logical side clearly understands that he is impossible to love. He is a troubled man. Wrecked. No one would ever want him in their life. A burden. Loving someone like him is a death sentence. So, there's this emptiness within him.

His perfect match would be someone "normal", mature and understanding. By saying "understanding" I don't mean just being able to accept him as he is, but someone having a similar experience in life, someone, who knows how to cope with trauma. And this significant other shouldn't be a "crutch" for Simon, because in my opinion such relationship wouldn't last long. It's not about fixing him, but about showing him that things can be different if he finds other means to cope with his demons than just restlessly fighting. He has to make a choice: to keep himself in that vicious bloody cycle or finally step up and take another challenge. I don't think he can actually change, but he definitely can make it work if someone believes in him.

Yes, he can hire a prostitute and let out some tension, but he will feel terrible afterwards. If, of course, he will actually be able to get intimate at all, by setting aside all the anxiety, fear and hate he has for himself . It's easier to take care of himself on his own.

Talking about sexuality. As I mentioned, he is not very experienced and he gets intimate rarely, so at first he doesn't last long at all. He can be a bit awkward, but he is never rough, since he has enough violence in his life and for him the act of making love is about tenderness. He would never want to harm or hurt his partner in any way. He is usually quiet in bed, but can be very audible from time to time when he simply cannot control himself.

[edenwolfie]

just wondering if you could elaborate more on the times hua cheng suspected wujin was xie lian, and what his internal turmoil was like while debating this

Hi anon! Thanks for the ask, this is going under a read more because a) p big spoilers for ppl who haven’t read the fic and b) I suspect this is going to be a long answer (spoilers, it ended up being 2k words rip).

I’m basically going to just be walking you through my thoughts of the various steps in the fic where Hua Cheng is having Thoughts (and woohoo for the 21k of Hua Cheng POV I wrote for kicks and getting some thoughts in order lol), so buckle up for way more than you asked for. I hope it makes sense because I am very tired and I think I may have just rambled to myself for a solid hour rip

Initial suspicion!! Chapter 2! Literally the first scene Xie Lian sees Hua Cheng where Hua Cheng is just fucking staring at him for a little bit too long (he had been staring for a while before Xie Lian noticed it). TGCF Ch 192: “However, that black-clad youth replied, “You are. I will never forget your voice and your form.”” Hua Cheng fucking clocked this guy who was very gege shaped (he’s lucky Yanxun has been feeding Xie Lian, might have been a little harder at the start). He realises whoever this is is clearly uncomfortable with the awkward little bow and pointedly looks elsewhere, but quickly picks up Xie Lian again and keeps half an eye on him all night when he can.

Chapter 3! From there you get a couple of scenes of the light stalking because this guy’s pinged his gege radar and Xu Hao was able to tell him a few useful things from Den gossip: he’s taking years for patrons in bets, the other staff really like him as he brings them little gifts, is a cultivator with some kind of abstinence path, and he’s older than he looks, (Mental ticks in the ‘wanting to help others’, ‘kind’, ‘cultivator’, and ‘old’ columns). This section is mainly Hua Cheng seeing if he can get anything useful out of Wujin himself by catching him off guard, see if his behaviours or words don’t match what Hua Cheng remembers of Xie Lian. How old is he, what’s his name, how brave is he, how willing is he to share info, why is he taking years for these people—all the while trying not to be nice about it, because there’s no way after living in Ghost City for 2 years that Xie Lian hasn’t heard of Hua Cheng and his reputation and its too late to use San Lang because Xie Lian’s seen him, and also, if it’s not Xie Lian, he doesn’t want to be friendly to some fucking random asshole. It also seems to put Wujin on edge a little, so unsure if this is because he keeps surprising him or if this person is nervous about such pointed questions (if it’s a spy/trap, are they nervous about Hua Cheng catching them out etc). Xie Lian also moves way too fast when Hua Cheng makes a grab for his mask which, ticks in the ‘great reflexes’ or ‘cultivator’ columns, and out comes daozhang-gege, because he is fun to tease. Also, double tick in the wanting to help people column, and tick in the selfless column. Xie Lian technically also doesn’t disagree about the gege thing, so that’s a maybe on age.

Then you get the scene with the dipshit who curses Xie Lian in Hua Cheng’s presence and gets the afterlife kicked out of him. This is tricky because Xie Lian is very intentionally hedging here because he’s just pinged that Hua Cheng could know him and not be pleased about it. Hua Cheng is in two minds because Xie Lian could be cleaning because it needed doing and he’s a hard worker, or it could be that gege feels guilty to be somewhat part of the ghost’s death, OR an imposter is trying to pretend thats the case. He does seem oddly flustered after the conversation and escapes as soon as Hua Cheng’s questioning becomes pointed which could indicate either Xie Lian is nervous or the imposter is at being caught out. Also, the butterfly was with Xie Lian for much of the night before this moment and Hua Cheng was absolutely watching, so he did notice the way Xie Lian paused at the mention of his name, which annoyingly, could point to either Xie Lian or someone trying to pretend to be him.

Basically, by this point Hua Cheng has settled on this either being Xie Lian or it’s someone very intentionally trying to pretend to be him for unclear but probably nefarious purposes. His common sense is beginning to be outweighed by his desire for it to be real so where he had been flirting to put off guard and mess with him a little, it’s becoming much more genuine and his inner thoughts are very much slipping away from referring to Xie Lian as Wujin.

Chapter 4! Black Water, point in Xie Lian’s column of standing up to getting absolutely dunked in He Xuan’s aura, though once it happens Hua Cheng gets between them pretty quick cause NOPE, leave gege alone thanks you. Then Xie Lian comes in with the food, and he brings the fucking wine which IS the one that was on the table when they confronted Lang Ying and he’s like ???? Hello? Gege? Of all the wines you pick that one??? Which is a solid point in his head for it being Xie Lian because Hua Cheng doesn't think a spy would be able to connect that event to the two of them, or it could be coincidence :/ … (You may note Hua Cheng pointedly Does Not Drink The Wine because Fuck That Guy lol).

Attack on the Den! More unhelpful hints of Xie Lian/imposter; can fight well enough to protect the place but did get hurt though unclear in what circumstance. Doesn’t have much spiritual energy when checked which either means 1) possibly has a cursed shackle like Yin Yu does (or a good spy network might know they’d need to emulate one), or b) he’s being truthful about the changing paths thing and his current energy store has collapsed. He also gets an exciting look at gege’s leg which, nice.

Because of this, Hua Cheng is like, I GOTTA see this guy fight in person, preferably with me if I can swing it—and he does! Also during that convo Xie Lian brings out another interesting wine choice from somewhere he knows Xie Lian worked once because he’s followed this part of his trail and spoke with the winemaker (now a ghost, hence why so many bottles, bun bonus info), so again, could be legit, could be someone who’s done their research as well as Hua Cheng has. Seems like a stretch, but its possible, gotta be careful. Xie Lian also confesses that his path does not consume alcohol (point in gege column) and that he ‘stopped being used to fine things a long time ago’ which, another tick - but again, if someone’s done their research, :/ . Hua Cheng also gets a new lead he did not have before: Banyue. Which either means Xie Lian was there, or this imposter is setting up a trail which may or may not be legit. Either way, worth looking into to see if anything can be sussed out. Pack sunscreen Yin Yu.

Then we fight! This is where Hua Cheng starts feeling legitimately confident that it’s Xie Lian because so many of the little pieces he’s put together so far point to Xie Lian, and while all the other things could be things a spy or whatever could have learnt about Xie Lian and emulated, this skill would be really fucking hard to fake, and Hua Cheng has seen him fight before, he moves right. Also, Hua Cheng was not going easy on him and Xie Lian kept up, he was just as knowledgeable and enthusiastic about the swords as Hua Cheng remembered him being which, extra ticks. Xie Lian also gets very, very excited and rambles at Hua Cheng about a particular move and my god Hua Cheng is having little flashbacks to being alone with Xie Lian after fighting the binu just before Land of the Tender. So, all round, signs point to gege—and ding ding ding! I hid a little language clue here, as after this point, Hua Cheng never calls him daozhang-gege again and moves to just using gege.

Chapter 5! We get Qiandeng temple! Again, Hua Cheng is still fishing for information just to be sure, but here he wants Xie Lian to trust him, wants to convince Xie Lian that he’d be safe if he wanted to take the mask off. Hua Cheng thinks he gets a little something, when Xie Lian says ““I’m glad he saved you.”” which I feel reads as a more personal/emotionally charged response to the event than compared to what Yanxun might have said to hear such a thing. Then, ““I think we can give up pretences,” Hua Cheng said and anxiety clogged Xie Lian’s throat. A pause, then, “Gege is far older than he appears. Did he ever worship His Highness?”” That pause was intentional, cause he was considering just asking Xie Lian to take the mask off or just saying that he knows its him (cause he wants to, and Yin Yu’s been fucking hounding him about it and its annoying), but deicides to continue with his plan of making sure Xie Lian trusts him and wants to take the mask off on his own terms.

Chapter 6! Main clues were Xie Lian not having siblings (tick) and going into Feng Xin’s temple (frowny tick). Bonus info: This was also a little bit of a test to see if Xie Lian would run if left alone in the human realm for a time (Hua Cheng did not need to go do things, he had all the info he needed, he just changed forms and lurked about for a while), but Xie Lian does not try to escape and Hua Cheng is fucking thrilled. We also get Hua Cheng’s slip up when he nearly calls out Your Highness when Xie Lian falls into the grave, was mainly a clue to y’all that he’s feeling confident enough that he is referring to Xie Lian in his head as such, even if still some doubts. Then of course the chapter goes to hell (poor Xie Lian, I do love to whack him with a stick) and Hua Cheng doesn’t know where he went wrong and he’s fucking torn up about it. At the same time, he hears a little about Xie Lian’s childhood which sounds much like what he’d expect for a prince. Yin Yu thinks its all a ploy to gain Hua Cheng’s sympathies and Hua Cheng is Very Displeased about this suggestion. Hua Cheng doesn’t get much out of Xie Lian for a little while because Xie Lian is obviously fucking Going Through it and he doesn’t know what to do until he finally can’t resist anymore and asks and Xie Lian admits ““This is not even close to the worst thing to happen to me.”” Which oh boy, Hua Cheng knows what that's referencing and he’s so scared that something else almost as awful has happened to him—Anyway, he also learns that Xie Lian was trapped somewhere for a long time and oh man he hopes he’s wrong but he and Yin Yu hit a wall on his trail about 120+ years ago and he’s very scared he’s just learnt why with the addition of the 'worst thing' comment.

Chapter 7! By here, Hua Cheng is p goddamn certain it’s Xie Lian and isn’t really intently fishing for any information, he still does of course, as there is of course a little voice in his head being like you’re wrong you’re an idiot you’re desperate and seeing what you want to see etc. On their Zhongyuan date Ju-er tells him that Xie Lian is a god and very beautiful under the mask (and my dudes, if they had not fucked (up) in the alley, Hua Cheng had full intentions of cornering that lil guy and taking him to the temple for confirmation the next day). Then Hua Cheng’s a sneaky lil fuck and, where in canon Xie Lian is using the palm reading thing to see if Hua Cheng is a ghost, Hua Cheng here is using it to be like, I’ve carved these hands so much, I’m p sure I know how they look and oh boy they look pretty dang close that's fucking great, and they share a meal and a drink and they play street games and he just gets,,,so lost in the happy sauce, and Xie Lian says please like that, then oh fuck, we did an oopsie. We’ll get more into those thoughts in chap 9 so I won’t elaborate beyond what Hua Cheng said in chap 8 :)

Hope that was even vaguely coherent/interesting/helpful???? I’m sure I’ve forgotten shit too (there’s defo a few little heartbeat moments that Hua Cheng can hear, but they’re often not hugely helpful to him) but man I need to sleep, so goodnight all!

[moth-based-cryptology]

ngl sending these bastard thots off anon is much scarier

race was two hours late to stream once because al fell asleep on him and race refused to wake him up. Oh wait!! what if he just started the stream with albert just snoozing on his shoulder??? oh god

they did a q&a and the question “who tops?” came up and race started to answer it but albert tackled him

race got al to do some butterfly knife tricks on camera for a cooking video and so al does it and at the end stabs it into a cutting board and emphatically states “I fucking hate butterfly knives”

race was doing a video on him dying his hair so he and al went to the store and while they were an old lady saw als tattoos and said “those are permanent you know” and al said no

once they were playing among us and race and al were accountabili-buddies despite the fact that race was the imposter and so when there were four people left race tried to open a door but misclicked and killed al and reported out of reflex and his acting was so genuine the other two players didnt even think for a second that it could be race and at the end screen everyone was losing their goddamn minds because race wound up making the ghosts second guess who it was and like two rounds ago race vented in front of three people but then somehow managed to pull that off???

race got dared to shot gun redbull and race being the impulsive rodent that he is did it and in the background you can see al get more and more concerned and confused

for a video they went to some supposedly haunted building and it was practically shane and ryan from bfu. race tried to be as respectful as possible and al told a ghost eat his ass

race tried to prank al by asking him to open a jar that he superglued closed and al tried for a solid thirty minutes. race was cracking up until al got it open

race took a video of al kickboxing and it was like a simp grenade went off on social media and suddenly al is trending again

i honestly really love it off anon cause i feel like i’m having a convo with you and it’s very chill. i promise i’ll continue to love your stuff on or off of anon cause it’s g r e a t

- they’ve both been late to streams because they other fell asleep on them at least twice. race will join 2 hours late and be like “sorry i was helping al with something” and not give any context. al will join like “sup fuckers race fell asleep on me. i’m not ruining that and i don’t have a death wish, but what’s poppin” cause he’s just like that

- i actually think it would be the opposite! race would read the question and albert would just get this annoying smug look on his face and race would smack a hand over al’s mouth and shout “MOVING ON” while albert laughs at him. depends on the context though, in a video it would probably be albert tackling race but on stream albert’s usually much more comfortable and open ngl.

- i have absolutely nothing to add to this headcanon it’s perfect. WAIT ok and race edits albert’s 15 minute rant and speeds it up really fast and it just says across the screen in massive text ‘this nerd talked for 15 full minutes about why he hates butterfly knives. full rant at the end of the video” and the full rant ACTUALLY is at the end of the video and everyone watches it

- albert has two reactions to this statement:

*calmly* “really? i had no clue. thought they would wash off” *shrugs*

*dramatic as fuck* “what are you- OMG WHAT ARE THESE? ARE THESE STICKERS? WHAT THE HELL?”

- he chose option 2 that day. race had to sit down in the aisle for like,,,, 5 minutes cause he couldn’t breathe he was laughing so hard. albert just holds the camera and asks “are you done?” every once in awhile until race gets up

- the only reason it was convincing at all is cause they know race wouldn’t kill albert intentionally, so they just automatically believe him cause al was dead. albert was loosing his fucking mind cause nobody caught his lie and race ended up winning. the first thing albert said after his mic was unmuted in discord was “you fucker” and then race yelped cause albert threw one of the fidget things on his desk at race. race is usually a garbage liar in among us unless he’s imposter with albert but when he accidentally kills albert he manages to pull it off cause they’re all like ‘there’s no way he would kill al though’

- i like to think race does it and as he gets closer to the end the camera starts slowly zooming in on albert’s ‘confused-and-slightly-disgusted’ face

- THEY SO WOULD. race is definitely pretty paranoid about ghosts and totally believes in them, and albert thinks it’s total bullshit and does crazy shit to scare race. basically the entire premise of buzzfeed unsolved (honestly red and racer as buzzfeed unsolved quotes is another idea)

- i like to imagine race has tried this prank more than once. first he used regular ass glue, then hot glue and al is stronk so he just broke right through it and didn’t notice and race pouted about it. then race does super glue and it takes like,,, 20 minutes? then albert just tweets ‘people of the internet: how do you get a jar open?’ and then he just hits it on the edge of the counter a couple times and it pops right open and race is still mad about it.

- basically race will randomly post albert doing another random athletic thing and a simp grenade will immediately detonate. so far the craziest reactions are to kickboxing and that one time albert chucked a round off back handspring back tuck on the beach and landed it. twitter forgets how to function for at least a week both times and albert is like “have i not mentioned this shit before?? c’mon guys catch up”

so many thoughts 👏👏👏 they’re all so good i love this entire thing

[anthropwashere]

Phic Phight: it’s all downhill from here (honey don’t be scared)

Prompt from @aggressivelyclueless: Halfa Valerie AU: Valerie becomes half-ghost. Apart from that being a total nightmare, this also leads her to discover Danny's secret as well. How is she going to handle it?

@currentlylurking @phicphight

Word count: 7,825

=

Mr. Heppenheimer, the latest in a long line of chemistry teachers that have come through Casper High since actual, real life ghosts have begun treating Amity Park like their own personal Las Vegas retreat away from the rigors of whatever normal life is like for ghosts in the Ghost Zone, gives Danny a lingering stink eye. Clearly the last teacher, Mrs. Jamshidi (who barely lasted a month, and submitted her two-week notice while recovering in the hospital after an admittedly memorable encounter with Ember), had left notes behind for her successor. Danny doubted a single word of it was in his favor.

"This practical's worth a quarter of your grade this semester," Mr. Heppenheimer says in his usual droll way. "You're not going to make me regret handing you glassware, are you, Mister Fenton?"

Danny, still a bit sore and off-kilter after another Jack Fenton-approved growth spurt, grins down at him. "No, sir."

Mr. Heppenheimer hums doubtfully. Clearly Mrs. Jamshidi had left extensive notes. "Don't make me regret this."

"Short of a ghost attack, I doubt you will," Danny answers truthfully. He really has gotten a much better control on his powers since the last time any science teacher let him near anything fragile, well over a year ago now. Mrs. Gorman hated him from the start for reasons he never figured out, anyway. He's looking forward to a fresh start.

Of course, worryingly enough Danny’s been sensing a pretty powerful ghost lurking around Casper High for over a week now. Along with the usual big green beasties that like to come sniffing around crowds of humans, which he’s had to dip out to handle three times now. No one’s noticed his on-going ghost sense, though it helps that he’s long-since gotten into the habit of keeping one hand cupped lazily over his mouth—just in case. That’ll be harder to pass off here in a practical lab, but there ought to be a lot of things bubbling and steaming soon. He just has to be careful until he’s got some cover.

Mr. Heppenheimer hums again, more dismissive than doubtful, and lets him approach the counter. His partner in this practical is Star, which is—randomized, definitely. Whatever, also definitely. He and Star have as much in common as him and an actual star, which is to say—nothing. He doesn't even generate heat anymore, not really. He's got a modified Maddie Fenton-approved belt buckle that lets him fake it, but it's not remotely the same thing, and not a

ll that convincing at close quarters anyway. Star, at least, knows him well enough that she's been bringing a mint green cardigan to class ever since they were assigned project partners.

Danny, well-aware he’s only good in the eyes of his peers for a laugh and anti-ghost tech, smiles thinly at Star and gestures at her to take the lead. She sniffs pointedly and does just so, which is fine with him. She's well on her way to valedictorian, whereas he's just trying to graduate. If deferring to whatever she wants gets him a passing grade, sure! He'll do whatever she says and accept whatever belittling comment she tacks on along with it. No skin off his back, right?

About twenty minutes into class there's a magnificent crash of glass that puts Danny 110% on edge; it's only Sam appearing at his left with a reassuring hand on his arm that keeps him from blasting a hole through the wall out of pure reflex. Which, maybe, possibly, likely says something about his state of mind after three straight years of fighting the kind of monsters that don't have any place outside of his very worst nightmares, but—whatever. Point is, thanks to Sam, he doesn't trash the lab or draw any unwanted attention to himself, both of which are good things! Another point in his favor: it’s finally somebody else’s turn to destroy a whole tray of beakers.

"Miss—Gray!" Mr. Heppenheimer shouts after a brief glance at the clipboard Danny hasn't seen him put down in the two weeks since he took the job. "What's the meaning of this?!"

"S-sorry!" Valerie stammers, her eyes firmly on the mess at her feet. Her project partner, Wes, is scowling at Danny. Likely because he believes the mess is entirely his fault. Wes can believe whatever he likes; just because he's the only one not fully in on The Big Secret who figured out The Big Secret out doesn't make him automatically right 100% of the time. Case in point: now. Danny's only touched his notebook, where he's got three pages of dutifully written notes on what Star's tasked him to write as she did all the metaphorical heavy lifting. He could swear on a stack of Bibles that this latest chemistry accident doesn't have a thing to do with him. It’s kind of refreshing, honestly.

Mr. Heppenheimer hums again. It seems to be his default over all the loud swearing he'd obviously prefer to be doing. "Clean it up. And do be careful, Miss Gray. I'd prefer to avoid sending anyone to the nurse's office today if I can help it."

"I—yeah. Yes, sorry." Valerie dashes off to the closet where all the safety-slash-cleaning gear is stashed to fetch cat litter, broom, and dustpan. Star scoffs on Danny's right, while Sam, hand still firmly squeezing Danny's bicep, has a worryingly thoughtful scowl on.

"Valerie has been such a mess since her dad lost his job," Star remarks in the usual scathingly cruel A-lister tone.

"He got his job back." Danny points out as he tries to shrug Sam off without making a big deal of it.

"So?" Star's tone has shifted from scathing to incredulous, which means she somehow didn't know something Danny's known since the tail end of their freshman year. It's admittedly bizarre to find himself able to lord some classmate gossip over an A-lister, but—with a glance at Sam to confirm it is, in fact, cool to lord this gossip over an A-lister—he gives Star a slow, sly grin as he gestures her closer. She leans in without an ounce of self-restraint or disgust, which means Danny's moved higher up the food chain since the last time he bothered to pay any attention.

"Valerie's dad used to be some bigwig in Axion Labs," he says, one eye on Sam and the other on Tucker, both of whom in turn are watching the teacher and the rest of the class. Just in case. "After Vlad—uh. Vladco, I mean—took over the company, Mister Gray got his position back despite Phantom screwing him over, and it's been smooth sailing for him ever since."

The sound of Valerie sweeping up broken glass gets discordantly loud, somehow. Danny doesn't have to look at her to know she's glaring daggers at him. He sets his shoulders and sticks the angle of his nose twenty degrees snootier, mostly to spite whatever murderous and/or weepy glower Valerie might be trying to laser into his soul. Which, whatever. He knows the shape of his own soul by now. He knows it's Phantom, plus or minus some degree of fiery white hair and green-tinged skin.

A bit of the old guilt niggles in the back of his head though. Accident or not, it was Phantom who cost Mr. Gray his job in the first place and Vlad who gave it back. And Vlad only did it at all once he realized his favorite little ghost fighting minion would be a better thorn in Phantom’s side if she didn’t have to work a part-time job at the Nasty Burger. Which—well. Danny’s glad she doesn’t have to deal with that anymore, for all that it does make her a better thorn in his side.

But—guilt. Dumb guilt, but on his plate all the same. He manages to edge the conversation to some other Gossip with a capital G that even Star's not aware of. Oh the things a guy can hear when he can literally turn invisible. It's kind of fun, honestly, to fill her in. The rest of the hour is spent hissing old-as-shit hearsay that still manages to make Star's eyes light up like she's watching Paulina’s favorite cabin burn down again. They do, somehow, manage to get their project pushed along to step three, which will pick up with the rest of all the normal and unobtrusive partnered projects tomorrow. He's not sure which of them is to thank for that, but he is more than a little pleased with how neatly he wrote their notes. It's the most like a regular student he's felt in months. It's honestly pretty great!

"We have a problem," Tucker hisses no less than five seconds and no more than ten after the bell rings. It's that perfect middle ground time of everyone shoving all their shit into their bags so they can bolt out the classroom door as fast as normal-humanly possible, so it's also that perfect middle ground time of nobody paying the three of them the least bit of attention.

"You noticed too?" Sam asks with her usual omniscient scowl. Danny truly and whole-heartedly wishes she'd stop with that, but he's yet to find an opportunity where he can say that to her face without coming across as a total shitheel, including now, so he grits his teeth and raises a pointedly baffled eyebrow at the both of them.

"Noticed what?" He asks with a patience he hasn't actually felt since junior high.

"Valerie's—" Tucker does a casual look around to see if anyone's close enough to eavesdrop, intentionally or no, which means this is a Phantom Thing. And if this is something Phantom and Valerie related? Yeah, no, he's in too good a mood for whatever latest gadget or trick Vlad might be cooking up via Valerie.

He holds up a hand with a sigh he automatically pretends is a yawn to cover up the blue wisp that escapes with it. "Can this wait? Better yet, can we just—not? At least for today? I'm really not up for counter-scheming."

"No need for that," Tucker assures way too quickly. The nervous laugh he follows it up with really doesn't help.

"Right," Danny says wryly, but motions to let them talk. Sam and Tucker share one of those weird non-verbal psychic looks where they have a whole conversation in the span of two seconds that goes right over Danny's head. He wishes they’d stop doing that, but if he called them out on it they’d deny it loudly, and it’d be a whole thing, and—ugh.

"Valerie's acting weird," Tucker says once they've finished. "As in, 'we definitely need to intervene' weird."

"Possessed?"

"No. But this might be worse."

"But this isn't the first time she made a mess in class,” Sam says.

Danny slips his one (1) notebook and one (1) pencil into his bag. He's learned the hard way to pack light and get real good at shorthand, as well as keep all his textbooks down in the Fenton dungeon where they're least likely to get torched in a ghost fight. Again. "Isn't it?"

"Nope," Tucker says as they make their way to the door. Danny's sure to give Mr. Heppenheimer some ever-so-slightly iridescent stink eye of his own to make him flinch, and then doubt himself for flinching. One good turn, and all that. "Seventh actually. Third a teacher noticed, but she's been weirding out a lot of the other students."

Danny grunts, more interested in shouldering other people out of the way to make it easier for Sam and Tucker to squeeze out into the hall. Hey, may as well get some mileage out of being one of the tallest guys in school, right? 

Sam touches his elbow to make sure she's got his attention while they make their way to their next classes. She's got sign language, Tucker's got photography, and Danny's got a free hour to nap in the auditorium ceiling. "She's constantly dropping things, she's always shivering, every lie I've heard her tell a faculty member has been total nonsense, she hasn't gone after a single ghost in almost two weeks—"

"Well, that would explain why there's been an uptick in my fifth period snake-wrangling," Danny remarks dryly, then grins nastily at some girl giving him a serious case of side-eye. She squeaks—actually squeaks!—and ducks behind some broad-shouldered guy in an eye-wateringly neon football jersey.

Tucker wacks his other elbow, scowling up at him. "Dude, this is serious."

"I haven't heard a reason to care yet."

He doesn't have to look to see they're doing another round of psychic Concerned About Our Bestie back-and-forth. Sam's the one who trips him—damn her preference for steel-toed boots—but it's Tucker who shoves him into a nook between two battered banks of lockers. "Danny," they both snap.

He blinks down at them expectantly, staying quiet. Hey, they're the one's worried about the badass ghost fighting black belt who would love nothing more than an opportunity to strap Phantom down to an operating table and go wild with a cattle prod. He's just trying to graduate. Preferably with all his teeth.

"Valerie is acting just like you did freshman year," Sam hisses. "Right after the you-know-what."

Danny barks laughter. "Yeah, right."

Sam and Tucker remain stone-cold serious. Worse, they look worried.

They wouldn't suggest something so crazy without a lot of thought put into it.

Fuck.

= 

It's another two days before Danny gets a good—"good"—opportunity to talk to Valerie one-on-one. During that time he sees first-hand no less than 37 incidents of irrefutable acts of half-ghost-hood. How nobody else—including that ass, Wes!—has caught on yet is nothing short of a miracle. Valerie cut ties with every other person in their graduating class after some disastrous party embarrassment Danny never cared enough to find out the details of secondhand. She's kept her head down and her teeth bared at anybody who’s tried to meet her halfway, and it seems everyone's accepted the fact that Valerie Gray is the second worst delinquent in the entire school.

(The first is him, naturally.)

He corners her three minutes before the bell to end lunch will ring. He's got calculus next—an unexpected good turn in his life that still makes him giggle every time he actually has time to do his homework—and she's got English. They can't afford to skip either class, but hey, you only half-die once, right?

She scowls up at him, twitching her head out of a habit she's not yet broken. She only shaved her head a month ago. He's still reeling over how good she looks, and also how much it makes her look like the awesome older Valerie from the horrible future where he and Vlad ghost-melded and murdered a dismayingly large number of humans. If that future is still somehow lingering out there in the tangled fabric of spacetime like a bad hangnail, he’s pretty sure that Valerie died, fullstop. 

He’d like it if he could do something to help this Valerie not die, fullstop. 

She scowls up at him harder. "What do you want?"

He allows himself another couple seconds to just—bask. Yes, she's hot as hell, and if they were both normal humans she could easily break him over her knee like a fistful of kindling. He's not yet gotten an inch of the Fenton width. He's basically all elbows, and it's now all but impossible to find shoes in his size. It's great, really, just super.

Mostly though, he holds his breath and lets his ghost sense settle in a chilly, wriggly knot in his lungs. How the hell did he not realize she was the cause before now?

He smiles down at her. It becomes immediately apparent that this is the worst possible thing he could have chosen to do. He stops smiling. Somehow that's worse.

"We need to talk," he says, and immediately wants to hit himself. Has daytime television not taught him anything? That's the worst thing he could have said!

"I don't think so," she says, and tries to edge past him. He catches her elbow—

—and she's got him smashed up against a classroom door before he can even blink. 

"Uh," they say at the same time. He feels one of her hands go ice cube cold against his skin. Since it's him and not a normal person, it's far more likely her hand just dropped to some negative three-digit temperature. If he were human, he'd be at risk for frostbite. As he's not, it's more like a refreshing breeze. He swears he even gets a whiff of the Ghost Zone off of her; like a hard shock of static on his tongue in a midnight snowfall. It's... nice. Is that what he smell-feels like? 

Hmm. Distracting himself. Best to stop doing that.

She realizes after too long a beat of awkward silence that one of her arms has gone full-ghostly, and springs back with a half-hysterical yelp. He turns around to look at her again, rolling his shoulder out of a long habit of pretending that Dash trying to rough him up actually feels like anything. She looks—

Well. Kind of like some kind of frazzled toy dog that's had to deal with way too many idiot humans manhandling her, and like she's pissed that all the finger-biting she's tried has only gotten her a bunch of braindead cooing. Danny finds himself sympathizing, and also like maybe he needs to vent to somebody else aside from Cujo on their 3 a.m. Thursday walkies. He considers several facial expressions he could make at her, dismisses all of them, and settles on upping the grimacing and shoulder-rolling. It sort of works? She looks guilty, which is honestly one of the better reactions she could be leveling at him right now.

"We really do need to talk, actually," he says, feigning an apologetic tone while pretending very hard he hasn’t noticed her left arm suddenly stops at the elbow. 

"Pretty sure we don't," she retorts.

He makes a show of rolling his eyes, and then a show of looking pointedly at her invisible arm. She looks down at herself, does a double-take, yelps again, and hides both of her arms behind her back as she makes several stammering attempts at a believable excuse. Danny winces, torn between sympathy and secondhand embarrassment. Sam was right; this is exactly how he stumbled his way through the first six months of figuring out his powers. At least he had the benefit of a couple of friends and eventually Jazz too to help cover his tracks. Valerie's on her own. She's going to get found out at this rate, and accidentally or not she will drag him and Vlad down with her.

"It's okay," he says calmly.

"Everything's fine I don't know what you're talking about!" 

He looks at her, unimpressed, until she looks appropriately embarrassed. "Let's try this again," he says, and puts both hands up to stall when she goes to retort. "Please?"

She purses her lips, huffing through her nose, but nods. Good enough.

"You're not okay," he tells her. "You're freaking out because something crazy happened to you, and you don't have anybody to turn to for answers without risking everything. You think you're a monster, or that you're dead, or you're dying, or some shitty combination of all of the above. You're scared because you can't control what's happening, and you're scared because you know you're gonna get caught at this rate, and you're scared because you know exactly what the GIW does to the ecto-entities it manages to get its hands on, because you're the reason half the ghosts that frequent Amity Park have done time in a GIW containment cell. Right?"

Valerie stares.

She keeps staring. 

Eventually her mouth starts making some feeble attempt at protest.

A while after that she musters up the stamina to stammer out, "W-whahaaat are you talking about? I think you've got—ha! The wrong idea! Yeah! I bet you're thinking I'm, uh. Um. Possessed! Yes! I'm definitely possessed! You caught me, oh fuck, I'm definitely just another one of Walker's goons—nobody important though! No nefarious schemes going on either, honest! I just, uh, wanted to take a human… out for a spin? Yes, that’s what I’m doing. You definitely don't need to say anything to your parents—"

"Valerie," he says.

Her mouth snaps shut so hard her teeth click. She looks terrified, furious, and miserable all at once. She looks like she knows she's cornered, caught red-handed, and like she fully expects Danny to rat her out. Does she really think so little of him?

He winces inwardly. Of course she does. She's kept him at arm's length since freshman year because he never owned up the truth to her. She's been protecting him from himself all this time by staying away. She only knows the front he puts on for everybody else.

The bell rings. In a matter of seconds this hallway is going to be packed with students, and this is not a conversation to risk anyone overhearing. He looks around. Their options are to either continue this wedged in a janitor's closet (she'd probably shoot him), ghost her up to the roof (she'd definitely shoot him) or duck into a classroom. Luck's on his side for once. He'd cornered her just outside the wreckage of the wood shop; it's not going to be fit to teach in until after they graduate, and even the other, regular delinquents know better than to hang out anywhere with that much Fenton ectobiological hazard caution tape. 

He nods toward the door. "Please?"

She looks like she'd much rather go toe-to-tail with Desiree, but the sound of a crowd surging their way decides for her. She bolts for the door, Danny at her heels, and they're in and hidden out of sight before anyone could see them go. He watches through a small hole in a stretch of opaque plastic sheeting, patiently waiting for the rest of the school to disperse into their various classrooms. There're too many holes in the wood shop's walls to risk talking even with all the noise out there. 

Eventually the hall outside quiets. The late bell rings. It's about as safe as it'll ever get to have this talk.

"I can explain," she begins, her voice quiet and shaken. 

"You don't have to," he says, and turns on the scary eyes as he faces her. 

Three years of fighting nightmare monsters hasn't done Valerie the right kind of favors either. A metal cube materializes over her shoulder and flares brightly as it powers up a shot. She in turn steps smoothly into a defensive stance, light humming up and down her as she... doesn't pull her ghost-fighting suit out of the spectral hammerspace it sloughs off to whenever she doesn't need it. He blinks. He looks at the cube properly once it becomes clear she isn't going to shoot him. The light coming off it isn't pink anymore, but the same ghost-green as his own powers.

"Explain," she growls.

Probably not a good time for jokes. He keeps his serious face on, scary eyes and all. "I was in an accident freshman year. My parents couldn't get their ghost portal to work. They got lax about not letting Jazz and I down there unsupervised. I took Sam and Tucker down there one afternoon while they were out. One thing led to another, and I accidentally got their portal to work. While I was standing inside it."

She winces. Not like Jazz or Wes did when he stammered out the story to them just so they'd stop asking. Not in sympathy as they tried to imagine what that would have felt like and falling a thousand miles short (not that he ever said so). She gives him the same look he's seen in the mirror every time a bad dream of that day grabs him by the throat and shocks him awake. She knows.

"Don't shoot," he jokes weakly, and reaches for that cold spark that shares the same illogical, impossible space as his heart. 

Another three cubes appear in a neat arc over her head when he changes, not that he blames her. She's just found out she dated her sworn enemy once upon a time. He's definitely surprised she doesn't shoot. She does go a bit deer in the headlights again, but more like a ghost deer that's just as likely to shoot lasers as it might bolt into traffic. "I," she tries. "You. You're. The whole goddamn time?!"

"Okay," he says. "Point of order. Cujo really wasn't my dog yet when I got your dad fired. That was an accident and I'm still very, very sorry about that."

Her eyes go ghost-red. "You wanna try that again?"

He sucks air in through his teeth, sighs out another blue wisp. She's doing it too. Has been the whole conversation actually, and plenty of other times before. He wonders if she's figured out what it means yet. He adds it to the list he's mentally compiling, keeps his hands up, and starts running his mouth as contritely as he can. 

=

The sun's almost set by the time Danny's really, truly, fully convinced Valerie not to turn him into the half-ghost equivalent of Swiss cheese. He's so hungry he feels like he's nursing a gut wound, but he thinks it's the smart choice to not suggest talking all of this out over dinner. It's not like his allowance (and black hole of an appetite) would pay for more than clearing out the dollar menu at Jack-in-the-Box, and no way is he stupid enough to suggest Valerie pay. So he remains perched on one of the few remaining tables left in the wood shop, still in Phantom mode mostly to watch Valerie grind her teeth. She's sitting cross-legged on another table, cubes and scary eyes gone. She's reached the fun sort of balance between bone-tired exhaustion and impotent frustration with no good outlet that isn't the kind of violence that will draw a lot of unwanted attention. She sits there and stews awhile, turning over everything he's told her.

He pulls out his phone—tossing her a wry grin when she flinches—and lets her stew. He shoots out a "safe, taking longer than a thought it would" into the group chat he's got with Sam, Tucker, and Jazz. Tucker lets him know he's rooting for him, and also they handled the Box Ghost's usual afternoon showing with a game of checkers, and Wulf's in town avoiding Walker again. Sam reminds him to work on his book report if Valerie doesn't skin him alive first. He shoots back a neutral affirmative to them both, then pulls up Bubble Blaster to kill time until Valerie feels like talking—

"It was two weeks ago," she starts.

Danny resists the urge to sigh and pockets his phone again. Well, he mimes pocketing his phone. It sort of phases into that weird imaginary skin between his halves with a buzz of protest. When he changes back it'll be in his back right pocket, fully charged. 

"Mister Masters," she pauses to make this really complicated grimace, like she'd sort of prefer calling Vlad something like Captain Fuckface but she's too polite to do it aloud. Danny makes a mental note to call Vlad exactly that the next time they run into each other. The fruitloop'll make a hilarious noise, he just knows it. "Mister Masters sent me info on another job. He told me some of his employees at Axion Labs had reported some ghost sightings, and my dad had mentioned seeing some weird stuff too, so. So I snuck out and went to go check it out. It didn't sound like anything bad, just. Y'know. Another ghost."

Two weeks ago her tone would have been one of complete, dismissive disgust. Two weeks ago she was still human though. Danny stays quiet, which is probably the smart thing to do.

"There was something on my radar when I got there. I thought it was gonna be you, honestly—" She glares, a flicker of red coloring her eyes. He shrugs and gives her a charming grin that's all, Who, me? She doesn't buy it for a second, not that he expected her too. Two weeks ago Vlad was being a real prick though, setting all sorts of nasty ghoulies he'd Frankenstein'd in his super gross secret lab loose in the downtown area. Danny's honestly not sure if he got any sleep for like, four straight days. There was a lot of doctored coffee involved, by which he means the kind of coffee a regular human couldn't drink without requiring a fairly immediate trip to the ER. 

(Tucker Foley tested.)

"Most of the reports were from some department I've never heard my dad talk about, and it's all three levels underground. If Technus hadn't juiced my suit up again I don't think I could've gotten down there—"

That's an alarm bell Danny super doesn't like the sound of. "Again?"

She waves her hand dismissively that's all, So last year, honey, try and keep up. "Doesn't matter. Point is, I got down there, and it—well. It looked like the Fen—uh. Your parents' lab. Kind of identical, actually. In a kinda creepy way."

Yeah, that's Vlad all over. Kinda creepy and not all that original. Oh well. He raises his eyebrows pointedly.

"Uh. Well, my radar went crazy down there, but I still couldn't get a real bead on anything. So I went poking around and found the framework of this—well, portal. I didn't realize it was a portal though, since it didn't look like the one in your parents' lab. It was standing on its own in the middle of the room, covered in cables—"

"Ours is a mess too," he points out. "You can't tell unless it's off though. I'm not really sure where all those cables and weird hunks of tech go while it's on...."

She gives him a look like she's regretting not shooting him earlier. He does the smart thing by not pointing out that shooting him is still very much on the table, and that if history's anything to go by she's a huge fan of shooting him. He can't help but think that opinion might, just possibly, if he's very lucky, have changed in the last couple of hours. Fingers crossed? Those cube cannon things hurt like a bitch.

"I was looking around that thing because it was freaking my radar out when Plas—Mister Masters showed up."

He reels a bit. She must've expected it, because it's her turn to raise her eyebrows pointedly. "Wait," he says, holding his hands up in a time out T. "Wait a minute. You knew he's Plasmius? The whole goddamn time?!"

"No," she snaps. "Only after Danielle."

"That's nearly the whole goddamn time. What the hell, he's been lording you over me as a reason not to blab the truth for years. For fuck's sake, Valerie—"

"You wanna maybe shut up and let me finish, ghost kid?"

He scowls. She scowls back, plus scary eyes. He's pretty sure she's not doing it intentionally, so the effect's not as impressive as it could be. Red continues to be a great color for her though, not that he's dumb enough to say that.

"Plasmius showed up, blasted me into the portal, and hit the switch before I could do anything," she bites out, hunching in on herself like she's wishing the ground would swallow her whole—aaaand there she goes, sinking through the table. He clears his throat loudly, she realizes what's going on and ends up flailing around like an idiot for a few seconds until her body gets physical enough to stay put. 

"Sam was right," he muses. "This is entertaining."

"Fuck you," she snaps without much venom. Mostly she sounds tired.

He sighs, hating himself a little for reasons he's not gonna explore right now. He's too hungry for introspection. "Did he evil-monologue why he did that to you?"

"A little. I was kinda out of it, after." She grimaces, gesturing at herself. "I didn't catch all of it. Something about being a distraction for you, though I didn't know that he meant you at the time."

"Oh goodie, this evil plot has layers, and ruining your life is apparently a fucking footnote." He scrubs his face with both hands and changes back into his plain Jane self. Valerie twitches badly, eyes flashing red and a fun eye-watering white shimmer shivering up her whole body. Huh. "Hey, have you tried changing back since that asshat zapped you?"

"Of course not," she hisses, looking at him like he just suggested she go streaking through the administration office. "I'm trying to keep a low profile while I figure out a way to fix what he did to me."

Ah, hell.

"I'm sorry," seems the smart thing to start with. He hops off the table, hands up where she can see them as he approaches her. He takes a risk at reaching for her hands. She surprises him again by continuing to not shoot him. "I'm really, really sorry. But there's no fixing this. You just get—better at being this." He squeezes a little when she starts shaking her head and pulling away, amping up the 'I'm sorry for your loss' face he's had to get way too good at. Superhero, he ain't. "I'm serious. Vlad's been like me—like us—since like, '85 or whenever he got zapped by a proto-portal, and he got really sick after."

Her eyes go big and laser pointer red again. "S-sick?"

"Ecto-acne. Ever hear of it?" She shakes her head. "You'll probably be okay, if Axion's portal is based on my parents' portal, or even Vlad's."

"He has a portal?"

"In Wisconsin," he confirms grimly. "He's been trying to build a second one ever since he moved here, but I kept messing with him. I didn't think to check the basements of any of his evil companies."

"Axion Labs isn't evil," she retorts instead of doing the sensible thing and blaming him outright for the shit she’s mired in for keeps. 

He raises an eyebrow. "Sure. And Invis-o-Bill really is hellbent on establishing a ghost-human empire capital in Amity fucking Park."

She winces.

"Wait. You didn't actually believe that, did you?"

She winces harder.

"Ohhhh Valerie," he sighs, dropping her hands to melodramatically sag against another table. "I'm wounded. Honestly, truthfully, hurt that you'd think so highly of fucking Invis-o-Bill. Haven't you been paying attention to the shit the gossip mags shill about me? I'm either a ghost blob with delusions of grandeur in a skinsuit or the ostracized son of Pariah Dark and Desiree. You don't think my evil ghost parents have been around enough to teach me how to be a good evil emperor, do you?"

She's trying—and failing—not to laugh. "Shut up. How was I supposed to know what to believe, huh? None of the ghosts ever say shit about you."

"Yeah, 'cause they're cool with keeping my secret!"

She presses forward to jab a finger in his chest. She's still kind of flicker-y at the edges, like she hasn't quite decided she isn't going to go full ghost hunter on him, so it sort of feels like another hard burst of static. Goosebumps break out all down his skin; it's all he can do not to shiver. "What's with that, anyway? Most of 'em are so hellbent on destroying you for stopping them again and again, but none of them have ever come blabbing your big life-ruining secret to me or your parents!"

He shrugs. "Honestly? I don't think it's ever occurred to any of them. I'm pretty sure Skulker's the only one who knows like, for sure that Vlad's the same as me, and that's only 'cuz he likes to take jobs from Vlad now and then. The others?" Another, more expansive shrug as he slides sideways out of her range. So she makes him uneasy. What about it? She's only shot him point blank like, five hundred times if she's done it once. He'd really like to get out of this whole situation without any new burns to hide.

"Huh," she says. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. It's not—I dunno. I think it'd be like cheating for most of 'em to go blabbing to some humans or even Vlad. They wanna take me down, sure, but they wanna do it on their own steam. I'm definitely not complaining."

"Course you're not, because you are ludicrously overpowered compared to most of the ghosts out there itching for a little world domination."

He grins down at her, big and sloppy. "Hey, give it some time and you'll be OP as fuck too."

She reacts to that little nugget of wisdom just like he expected her to; retreating halfway across the room and shrinking in on herself like she's dearly wishing for a bit of time travel to undo what Vlad did to her on a selfish whim. Well. A conversation with Clockwork is an option still on the table. He'll give her a few more days of adjustment before suggesting a fun little jaunt into the Ghost Zone. He's honestly not sure if Clockwork and her are properly acquainted. That should be good for a laugh if nothing else. 

"Hey," he says companionably. "I mean it. You're gonna be okay."

She scoffs. He pretends not to hear the dampness to it. "Oh, sure. So long as I do exactly what you say, right?"

"This isn't blackmail," he says, injecting as much calm as he can to his voice. "Honest. I mean, I won't lie and pretend I'm not hoping you listen to me. If you get found out it's both of our necks on the chopping block. Sure, I'll make sure Vlad takes the fall too, so that's some nice revenge wrapped with a bow, but it's not like we'd be around to really appreciate it, y'know?"

She makes another, slightly damper noise. He considers the risk of hugging her against the risk of walking away with all his parts where they ought to be, and he decides the smart thing is to stay put and pretend right along with her that she's definitely not crying.

"I want to help you, Valerie. I've been where you're at. I know how much it sucks. And I had Sam and Tucker helping me while I tried to figure it all out. You... you need somebody to help you. Trust me on this much at least, okay? This isn't something you can do alone."

Her various damp noises evolve into an outright sob. "Fuck."

Yeah. That about sums it up.

"Fuck," she hisses out again, pawing roughly at her face. "This. I didn't want—all this time and you never—I coulda killed you but you didn't—and now I'm—!"

Okay. Yeah. Superheroes don't leave anybody to cry so miserably on their own. He's hardy. Even if she shoots him he can hang out, make sure she's okay to get home on her own. And they both skipped their last two classes. He ought to go rummage around their teachers' desks and try to figure out what tonight's homework is. She's got every reason to burn her textbooks and scream fuck it at the moon (Danny's sophomore year was a personal low point), and it's just as likely Skulker will pull some new scheme to try and skin him tonight as any other school night, but it's the principle of the thing. They're both just trying to graduate at this point, and they're so close. 

It might seem so incredibly, completely stupid, to care about graduating with all the other bullshit in their lives. Most days, it is stupid to care. But there are some days that stupid, pointless piece of paper is the only reason Danny chooses to get out of bed. He chooses to remember that he's still human enough for human consequences. He needs that diploma to get into college, and he needs to get into college so he can earn his bachelor's, and he needs to be stable enough to earn his pilot's license, and then somehow net 1,000 hours as pilot-in-command in a fucking jet, and on and on and on, because there's still this stupid, stupid, stupid little voice in his head that won't shut up about how cool it'd be to actually manage to become an astronaut despite—

—everything.

He wants to ask what Valerie wanted to be when she grew up, but that's... not now. That's a conversation for later, if he's lucky enough that she'll trust him with that little, foolish dream every kid clings to even when they're loudly proclaiming how stupid it is. Everybody grows up and realizes how stupid the dream jobs they wanted when they were kids was; it's the real dreamers that grit their teeth and keep working despite—

—everything.

He takes the risk, the leap of faith. He closes the distance between them and plays a pattern across her shoulder to warn her he's coming in for a hug. No cubes or guns or accidental ecto-rays materialize to blast him into next week, so he calls it a win and finishes the deed. She's all hunched shoulders and hard fingers knotted in his shirt, hot tears and probably some snot at war with how neutrally temperature-wise the rest of her feels. Everybody else—everybody human—feels hot as a sunburn if he gets too close. Ghosts are still too cold, though thanks to his handy-dandy ice powers none of them are ever cold enough to hurt like humans do. 

Here and now, hugging Valerie and whispering soft, pointless bullshit into her frizzy hair is the closest to human he's felt in—

—in too long.

"I'm sorry," she says.

"Don't be," he replies, instead of Me too.

"Thank you," she says.

"Nothin' to thank me for," he replies, instead of You should be blaming me for this.

"I'm scared," she says.

"It's going to be okay," he replies, and means it.

=

It's almost nine by the time he makes it to Sam's house, and he's so hungry he tunnel visions twice on the flight over. Lucky him, his friends and secret keepers know how bullshit his anatomy is, and there's a veritable buffet awaiting him when he gets there. Luckier him, his friends and secret keepers know better than to try and hold a Serious Conversation when he's like this, and leave him alone for the better part of 20 minutes before they both start loudly clearing their throats.

He slows his flawless imitation of a combine harvester long enough to muster a, "Hngh?"

Sam and Tucker waste precious moments he could be upping his calorie count with another psychic conversation that they're clearly both enjoying. He scowls, for all the good it'll do him.

"How'd it go?" Sam asks.

"Well," he says, setting his fork down to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. Manners, schmmaners. "She didn't shoot me."

"Damn it," Tucker says loudly, and pulls out his phone.

"Seriously?" Danny asks.

"He owes Jazz twenty bucks," Same explains as Tucker begins a furiously-typed text. Danny suppresses the urge to shudder. Something about the haptic feedback on cell phones really sets him on edge. He genuinely doesn't know if it's a pet peeve or a ghost thing. Either way he always has to squash the insane urge to pitch Tucker's phone at the nearest brick wall, and right now that is an honest struggle.

"Seriously?" He repeats. "You bet against me?"

Tucker pauses long enough to level an incredulous glare at him. "Dude."

...yeah, okay. That's fair. Danny would've bet against himself too, if he'd known to. 

"Rude," he says anyway, on principle. 

Sam and Tucker both make a huge show of rolling their eyes, but at least Sam pushes another three slices of pizza in his direction. They even ordered in, so there's actual meat and cheese on it. He has the best friends a guy could ask for, even if Tucker is an ass nine times out of ten. Serves him right to lose 20 bucks, voting against him against his sister of all people.

"Details," Sam demands. "How's she doing, what happened, is she gonna stop trying to kill you, et cetera."

"Vlad happened," he manages through half a slice of pizza. Sam and Tucker both wince; Tucker hard enough he actually drops his phone.

"Fuck," Tucker hisses. "Why?"

"Dunno yet. And I dunno about you, but figuring out his latest scheme has definitely become number one on my honey do list."

They both nod. Tucker's the one to ask the important follow up. "And Valerie? How's she doing?"

He makes a seesaw motion with one hand. "Again, gotta stress the whole 'didn't shoot me' thing." He grins real sleazily while Tucker groans. "She's not great though. I foresee the next like, two months helping her out taking priority over all the usual ghost bullshit. Short of like, apocalyptic ghost attacks, of course."

"Fair," Sam and Tucker both say. Sam gives him a pointed capital L Look, going so far as to pull his plate a few inches away so he can better direct his instinctive growl at her. "She's not gonna rat, is she?"

"No," comes out more snarl-y than he means it to, but—pizza. Sam takes him at face value at least, and gives him his plate back, with an extra slice of meat lover's for good behavior. She's his favorite. 

"We're gonna co-op," he adds, and pretends not to notice the Extraordinarily Concerned Psychic Look Sam and Tucker share over that bit of news. Whatever. They can stress over the idea of Valerie being included in their group. Him? He's gonna polish off the rest of this pizza, pull his one (1) notebook and one (1) pencil out of his bag, and he's going to get as much of a headstart on his homework before patrol as he can. If he actually manages to finish his two pages of grammar problems he's going to call it a great day. Anything else? Well, that's gravy so far as he's concerned. 

He grins to himself a little, thinking of Valerie's new phone number burning a hole in his pocket. If anything toothsome decides to show up tonight he got the okay to text her. And honestly? For all that she's in the same bullshit hell as he, Vlad, and Elle are....

Well. It's probably shitty of him, but it's still nice to have an ally and friend in this half-ghost bullshit hell.

[nelllraiser]

don’t bring a ghost to a bar fight | nadia & nell

TIMING: before nell knew nadia was possessed. (don’t @ us) LOCATION: soul on the rocks. PARTIES: @humanmoodring & @nelllraiser SUMMARY: two girls walk into a bar. one of them is possessed by a spirit who likes robbing places.

Dismounting from her motorcycle, Nell wasted no time to stride into Soul on the Rocks with peak confidence in her gait as she walked through the front door. This particular bar was no place to appear as easy prey, though it was revolting she had to consider such a thing in the first place. Her height, or lack of it, didn’t help in deterring the prolonged looks of the other patrons in the bar, as they most likely wondered what a 5’2 girl was doing striding into a place such as this. But she was here for a reason, and with money on the line, Nell wouldn’t be distracted. A lead had brought her here, a whiff of a hint as to where her current bounty might be, and she was planning on cashing in on it. For all she cared, this bar could bite her ass if they wanted to create a stink about her presence. Sitting herself at the bar, she did a quick perimeter check, taking in her surroundings just in case anything went South. It hadn’t been as much of a habit until recently, what with the constant attempts on her life. Now it felt as if she could neve relax when she was in public, or even at home. In her scanning, a familiar face caught her down the bar, and surprise filtered through her expression. “Nadia?” she asked loud enough for the other woman to hear. “What are you doing here?”

Things weren’t going well, Nadia thought as she turned an empty glass of whiskey in her hand and rubbed at her temple. She sat at the bar, contemplating where the hell she was going to stay the night since she couldn’t go back to her host’s apartment. Not that she wanted to; she’d fucking trashed the place. The bartender was used to her presence over the last few months, and he’d known her before, so he didn’t bat an eye at the look on her face, just gave her another drink and started wiping down the table. She downed it pretty easily, and it was back to contemplating where she was sleeping. Honestly, if it was a nice night, she’d just go camping. If it was bad weather, she’d just end up squatting in one of the seasonal houses along the beach. Maybe she’d do that, anyway. It seemed like luxurious living, compared to what she’d been doing since she’d removed herself from Nadia’s apartment. She didn’t even know if she could go back. She didn’t fucking want to, anyway. The sound of her name called her out of her dark thoughts, and she looked down to the other side of the bar where some kid stood. Was she even old enough to be here? “Hey!” she called back, putting on a tired smile. “Just getting a drink,” she said. Teasingly, she added, “That’s not a crime around here, is it?”

Nell hadn’t seen all that much of Nadia since everything, and honestly that was most likely her fault what with all the chaos and destruction her life had apparently decided to take on. Either way, she was happy to run into the girl here, even if she didn’t entirely understand what a nice girl like Nadia was doing in a bar like this. “Actually, it is a crime now. And I’ve been sent to arrest you,” she tried to joke lightly. But she couldn’t help but be somewhat curious about what had been happening with Nadia, especially based off of Luce’s continued interest in the woman. It wasn’t like Luce to pay so much attention to someone. “How are you doing? Is my sister playing nice?” There was another added benefit to Nadia being here, Nell supposed. She could carry on a casual conversation while searching the faces of the other patrons, seeing if any of them was who she was looking for while in seemingly casual conversation. It’d help her stick out less.

Who are you? Nadia wanted to snark at this girl, but she couldn’t. She let the question ring through her head as she kept a small, tired smile on her face. Why couldn’t Nadia help her out for once on this? They should let this be a good thing, after the shit at the cabin. Open communication between the two of them could be key. Not that Nadia planned on sharing control of any kind, but she was willing to open up her thoughts to her host if it benefited her. Nadia didn’t give her shit, though. “Well, damn. Should’ve known grabbing a drink would be what did me in,” Nadia joked, bringing her glass to her lips and taking a long drink. Who did she know with a sister? There weren’t many people… Not Regan. Was it… Luce. Luce had sisters, didn’t she? “I’m doing alright. Long week. Needed this, even if it does get me arrested.” She shook her glass, the ice clinking against the sides. She hoped the bartender would take the hint. “Your sister never plays nice, but you know that,” she said with a smirk, doing her best to keep the bite out of it. Luce would have to play nice if she had any sense, but that really didn’t matter now. “What about you, kid? How are you doing?”

Nadia seemed more confident and self-assured than Nell remembered her. Then again...the woman had been ready to wield a knife at her in defense of Regan— so perhaps more of the steel was just coming to the surface. “So if you’ll just come quietly- I don’t think we’ll have to resort to such dire methods as we did last time,” she joked leaning her elbow on the bar and planting her chin in her hand as she settled in. “Long week?” she asked curiously, wondering if Nadia would be willing to share whatever it was that had driven her to drink, and in a place like this nonetheless. “That’s true, though. If Luce was playing nice I’d be more concerned than if she wasn’t.” A light eyeroll took Nell as Nadia used the diminutive, and NEll reflexively answered. “Just cause I’m the height of a kid doesn’t me I am one.” Her face closely resembled a real life version of the slashy one she so often made online. “I’m fine, though.” No need to fill Nadia in on all the gruesome details that were her life. “I was just scoping out the place tonight, for the most part.” She hoped it was enough to hint that she might be here for reasons other than drinking without tipping anyone else off.

Dire methods? Who the fuck was this kid. Nadia raised her hands up in a placating manner, though she brought the drink back to her lips along the way. “Alright, alright. I’ll go gently into that good night or whatever.” She gave a long sigh, the teasing smile dimming a bit. “The fucking longest.” She was still trying to figure out how the hell she was going to keep making a living in White Crest. Then there was the problem with just fucking silencing Nadia in general. They were fine now, and she was firmly in control at the moment, but that could change with the drop of a hat. It wasn’t something that she felt particularly equipped to deal with. “Luce’s kind of prickly, isn’t she? Maybe that’s what makes her fun. She’s got a lot of buttons to push.” Nadia just didn’t want to end up pushing the wrong one. Not that it mattered. She was safe in this body. There wasn’t a damn person out there that Nadia knew that would hurt her body just to get at the ghost that had made it her home. She was safe. She raised an eyebrow at the girl in front of her. “Are you even old enough to drink?” she teased, but she gave a nod at the girl’s next words. “Gotcha. Not a bad place to do business, sometimes. Are you looking for any...thing, in particular, or just casing the place?” Soul wasn’t exactly the best place to try and rob, that was for damn sure, but people from all walks of life, usually the shadier side, ended up here, and there were plenty of business opportunities if you knew where to look.

Nell chuckled at Nadia’s surrender, still leaning forwards on the bar as she tried to still take a half-decent look around. There was nothing, though. Maybe her tip wasn’t actually here. It wasn’t ideal, but it meant that the witch could relax a little more for a moment. “Why’s that?” she asked, wondering what it was that had apparently driven Nadia here of all places. “I mean I’m sure you’re familiar with how prickly she can be,” Nell gave a little laugh, though didn’t fully indulge in the badgereing of her sister. She wouldn’t go too far when Luce wasn’t here to defend herself. Besides, most of the time Nell just made fun of her for the elder sister’s reactions, so where was the fun when she wasn’t present? “Thankfully I know all the secrets about all her buttons. That’s my job, after all.” What else were little sisters for? “Oh, shut up,” Nell said with an eye roll. “I’m fucking twenty-three and you know it. It’s not my fault I’m not ancient like you are. I guess we can’t all be young and beautiful.” As for what Nell was doing here. “I thought there might be some cash to be made,” she said, trying to be vague in case anyone was listening too closely. “But I’m not quite so sure about that now. Why? Were you hoping to join me in my crime?”

“Oh, you know,” Nadia said, taking a sip of her drink to by herself some time. It wasn’t like she could explain to this stranger why she was having a hard time, especially when she didn’t know how much this kid knew Nadia. There was only so much she could say before she started to sound suspicious. “Just having a lot of personal problems. The world has cursed me, I think.” She took another drink, enjoying the way the alcohol was going to her head. All she had to do was make sure it didn’t loosen her tongue. “I’m pretty familiar, yeah,” she said around the rim of her drink to stop her smile from turning too sharp. She gasped in mock hurt, her hand going to her chest. ”Ancient?” She knew she wasn’t, knew she’d intentionally picked a young, pretty body because it would last longer. Nadia heaved out a long-suffering sigh. “And here I was going to buy you a drink. Now, I’m just feeling far too old and weary to even offer.” She looked around the bar, at the various people in corners and at the bartender near the cash register. He rung someone up, took their money and opened the register to reveal all the money just waiting to be taken. “There’s always cash to be made if you know where to look,” Nadia murmured. Now this girl was speaking her language. She raised an eyebrow, a smirk on her lip. She guessed this kid didn’t know Nadia Diaz that well, after all. “I’m always down for a little crime. If you’ve got big plans and are cool with splitting the spoils, I’m totally interested.”

“Tell me about it,” Nell replied dryly, certainly understanding the feeling of every possible stressor coming down at once. “The world can get fuck, to be honest.” She was curious as to what problems Nadia was speaking of, but didn’t see a reason to push at the moment. After all, she had no reason to believe Nadia would actually share them with her. “Yep!” Nell replied with a smirk, popping the ‘p’ of the word. “Ancient.” But her backtracking was all too quick to follow. “Hey! Hold on! You can still buy me the drink! I mean- you have to be nice to me, right? I can put in all sorts of good words for you with Luce.” Unfortunately, the utter severity of Nadia’s words was lost on Nell. After all, the Nadia Diaz she knew would never commit an actual crime. So where was the harm in continuing to play along? “Nadia, you know I’m always ready to have fun. Fuck the police, am I right?” she finished with a chuckle. 

“I’ll certainly drink to that,” Nadia said, downing what was left of her drink and motioning the bartender to come over, she asked for a beer, looking at Nell and then rolling her eyes. “Whatever she wants, too,” she told the bartender turning back to Nell. “If I’m ancient, then you’re not far behind me. Physically. Mentally, you are a child.” She kept her tone teasing, though it was a bit sharper than she intended. She’d blame it on the booze if she was questioned about it. “I don’t have to be nice to you. Trust me, I don’t need you to put a good word in. I think I’m doing just fine with your sister.” She winked, though she was lying through her teeth. Luce knew, and, while that was fun in its own right, there was no way in hell she was going to get anywhere near the girl again. Taunting on the internet? Sure, maybe eventually. But seeing her in person? Nah, not a chance. “Some fun, huh?” Nadia’s eyes twinkled. “Then let’s have some fun.” Maybe this would be an interesting Vural sibling. “Just follow my lead.” As the bartender brought back her beer, completely unsuspecting, Nadia took it from him, wrapped her hand around the neck of the bottle, and smacked it over the man’s head, shattering the glass and causing him to crumble to the ground. Loudly, she yelled, “Bar fight!” She hopped over the bar and watched the chaos ensue. 

The moment a bar fight was announced, keeping up with any conversation that had been in the works was impossible, and Nell forwent any attempts to do so as shock took over her features. “Nadia- what the hell?!” Don’t get her wrong. The witch wasn’t exactly opposed to bar fights if they were warranted, but what was Nadia thinking with starting one out of the literal blue? There was no time to pose the question as Nell was forced to duck, the meaty hand of one of the rougher bar goers flying over her head while she narrowly dodged. Unfortunately, she knew the best way out of a bar fight was to- well...fight. Her body took over as she blocked punches and returned them, an errant beer bottle smacking her in the shoulder. “Hey!” she yelled in the general direction it had come from, intent on finding who the culprit had been while her temper began to ignite. It was hard to remain peaceful when a literal brawl was breaking out, especially when she generally enjoyed a good scuffle. But what exactly was Nadia’s play here? To try and get herself killed?

“We’re having fun!” Nadia yelled at the girl as she ducked under the arm of the bartender. His anger fueled her, and she gave him a savage grin before grabbing his head and slamming it against the bar. She had to be careful not to get too excited, not wanting her host to take control again, but damn. This was good. This was nice. She could live like this, surrounded by a storm of emotions, causing a bit of chaos, having a damn good time. She was relatively alone behind the bar, though she grabbed a few glasses and chucked them at people, watching the glass shatter against heads and shoulders and backs. She ducked down under the bar, pilfering for anything that she thought might be of worth. A few bottles of decent booze (Soul on the Rocks wasn’t the classiest establishment, so there was nothing super expensive, but there was still some quality shit), the bartender’s phone, as well as his wallet that she snitched off his knocked out body. She moved to the cash register, took all the big bills that she could stuff in her pockets, and headed out into the fray again, looking for the Vural girl. Luce would be upset if she let something happen to her sister. That thought wasn’t Nadia’s because she didn’t care what Luce thought of her, not anymore, but still. She joined the girl where she was in the midst of the fight, grinning. “This is totally fun, right?” she shouted.

Nell locked eyes with the man who’d tried to lob a beer bottle at her and wasted no time in jerking her foot up in a firm and swift kick to his more sensitive bits with an impassioned, “Fuck off!” Her body began to make the adjustments for a fight, smoothing into practiced hits and dodges as she darted through the bodies, leaving a couple of groaning men in her wake. She couldn’t even see Nadia over the heads of these people though, and found herself once again cursing her lack of height. With a growl, she boosted herself off of a crouched man’s knee, scrambling around until she was balancing precariously on his back like a koala, much to his discontent. But as quickly as she’d done it- Nadia was already beside her. She looked down at the woman from her still angry perch. “I mean- yeah I like a bar fight as much as the next gal, but you didn’t even have a reason to start it? It’s more fun when you’re getting your well-deserved revenge or something?” At least Nell had reasons when she decided to be reckless, or so she liked to think. “Are you done being insane, now?” Perhaps she wouldn’t have been so surprised over the entire situation if this hadn’t been Nadia she was speaking to. 

Holding up a bottle of nice whiskey and laughing, Nadia said, “I totally had a reason to start it. I got you a drink, didn’t I?” She dodged as a guy charged forward at them and stuck out her boot, catching him by the ankle and sending him plummeting to the ground. He was soon lost in the sea of bodies swarming and stabbing and punching around them. She wondered if he protected his head. Those things were pretty damn important. She looked at where Luce’s sister clung to the back of some poor bastard and sighed. Luce would be upset if something happened to her. And Nadia didn’t give a fuck about Luce Vural. Not a single, goddamned fuck. But… Nadia Diaz did, and she and Nadia Diaz didn’t have the most harmonious relationship right now. If she could keep herself, and Nadia, from freaking out, then she’d be able to maintain control. And she’d be damned if she lost control again. She hauled the smaller Vural off the guy and started clearing a path to the door. “Yeah, yeah, I’m done. Let’s get out of here.” She felt her eye twitch a bit at being called insane, more than a little irritation building up in her that threatened to spill over into anger, which threatened to take her away from consciousness. Nope. No. Couldn’t focus on that shit. She continued to move them towards the door until they managed to stumble out. Nadia felt like a goddamn livewire, and it was amazing. She needed to tone it down before it felt too good, though. “Fun, right?” she grinned, sweaty and exhilarated and was she bleeding? She might have gotten popped in the nose. She held out the bottle to the girl.

“Hey!” Nell objected as Nadia latched onto her, reflexively pushing against the woman’s grip. Nadia had started this fight, but it seemed she had no interest in finishing it. On the other hand, Nell hadn’t been on board with the fight’s origins, but she was having a little too much fun now. After all, there was a reason she’d so thoroughly loved working in the Ring. The rush was always worth it. Nell let out a disgruntled growl as they made their exit, still eyeing the woman next to her. Something wasn’t adding up. Even if she hadn’t known Nadia all that well— the witch couldn’t even find a single spark of the woman she’d met in the morgue that evening with Regan. “Yeah...fun,” Nell agreed bitterly, still upset after feeling like she’d been dragged along for the ride. For a fleeting moment she wondered if this was how others felt when she did similar things, the roles reversed— but didn’t spare it that much of a consideration. “Next time just tell me what the fucking plan is beforehand.” It seemed she didn’t like the choices that had been made for her. Taking a swig of the whiskey, she walked from the bar with the bottle in hand alongside the other woman, still not quite certain how to explain the last twenty minutes of her life when it came to Nadia.

[q-gorgeous]

Doctor

fanfiction

i dont think im gonna finish dannymay this month but its fine i guess

Danny and his mom sat in the waiting room of their doctors office, reading magazines while they waited for Danny to be called back. 

“Sweetie, are you sure you don’t want me to come with you? This’ll be your first appointment without me and I just don’t want you to-”

“Mom, no, I’ll be fine. I’m sixteen and it’s just a regular check up.”

“But-”

“Danny Fenton?” 

A woman stood in the doorway of the waiting room, a clipboard in her hand.

“Are you sure?” His mom asked.

Danny stood up as he nodded. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ll be back in a bit.”

He walked over to the woman and she guided him through the doorway and into the hallways. Whenever he walked through here he always got turned around and was surprised to already being seated in a room. 

“Wait right here and the nurse will be in in a few minutes.”

Danny nodded and sat down in one of the chairs. He looked around the room, idly bouncing his leg. It looked the same as the last time he’d been here. He didn’t even know if this was the same room or not. They all looked the same to him. 

Soon a nurse knocked on the door. Danny made an affirming noise to let them know they could come in. A man around his parents' age walked in and gave him a small wave.

“Hey there, Danny! My name’s Mr. Simpleton and I’ll be your nurse today before Dr. Cavanaugh comes to see you. How are you doing today?”

“Pretty good, pretty good.” Danny said as he tapped his fingers.

“So.” Mr. Simpleton started. “It looks like you haven’t been to a routine check up in about two years, right around when you were fourteen. Has anything changed since then? Anything you’ve had concerns about?”

“Nope.” Danny said, popping the p. 

“Alright.” Mr. Simpleton said, checking something off on his computer. “Let’s start with your height and weight. Take your shoes off and step onto the scale over there.”

Untying his shoelaces, Danny pulled his shoes off and stepped onto the scale and Mr. Simpleton adjusted the height bar. 

“You are five foot seven and… One hundred and ten pounds…” The nurse furrowed his eyebrows, going back to his computer and typing it in. “Let’s move onto heart rate next.”

Danny moved to sit on the bed instead, watching as Mr. Simpleton put the stethoscope in his own ears and the end on his chest. After a bit Mr. Simpleton pulled the stethoscope away and headed back to his computer. 

“44 resting bpm.” He said as he typed. “Let’s do reflexes now.”

Mr. Simpleton walked back over to Danny with the little knee hammer and gently tapped his knee with it. 

Danny’s leg suddenly shot out, a bit of ectoplasm flying out of his shoe. Danny stared at Mr. Simpleton in horror as the man just stared at his foot. 

“Possible… ectocontamination?” He said as he turned back to his computer. 

“Wait, no!” Danny shouted. “Don’t put that in there!”

“Ectocontamination is nothing to take lightly. The GIW and your parents have both put out safety warnings and what we need to do to deal with it properly.”

“No you can’t tell them!” 

“Why not?”

They stared at each other for a minute, Danny fidgeting in his seat while Mr. Simpleton studied him. The nurse's eyebrows furrowed for a moment before his eyes shot wide open. 

“Okay. Well, I think that concludes the nurses examination. I’ll go file and finalize everything while you wait for Dr. Cavanaugh to come see you.” 

He bundled up his laptop and stethoscope and started walking towards the door and opened it. 

“Wait-” Danny started but was cut off as the door closed. 

He sat and stared at the door, his heart rate increasing as he pondered what would happen. Did he leave? Did he walk out, find his mom, and tell her they were done? Does he pretend he was kidnapped by a ghost? What did he do?

Just as he was debating turning intangible and going through the wall, a knock sounded at the door and a woman with long, curly black hair walked into the room. 

“Hi! Danny Fenton, right?” She said as she looked at her open laptop. “I’m Dr. Cavanaugh. I had some things I wanted to ask you about.”

Danny’s heart dropped and he slouched in his seat. 

“You seem to have some fear and apprehension of telling your parents about your ectocontamination. Is there any reason for that? Do they make you feel unsafe at home?”

“What? No.” Danny said, furrowing his brows. “I mean, it’s more complicated than that. But my parents love me very much, they would never hurt me intentionally.”

“Intentionally?” Dr. Cavanaugh asked. “Have they hurt you unintentionally?”

Danny looked away. “I mean… I had an accident with the ghost portal. But! That was mostly my fault. My friends and I were goofing around near it when we shouldn’t have been.” 

“When was this accident?”

“A little less than two years ago.”

“Hmm.” Dr. Cavanaugh hummed. “And you haven’t had a doctor’s appointment since then?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because. It wasn’t that bad. And my parents were so excited that the ghost portal was working, I didn’t want to ruin that for them.”

“Was there any other reason? Were you afraid?”

Danny narrowed his eyes. “What are you getting at?”

Dr. Cavanaugh cleared her throat. “Mr. Simpleton has reason to believe that you may not be in the healthiest environment due to… circumstances.”

Danny snorted. “Yeah? And what circumstances would those be?”

“Phantom.”

Danny stared at her as his heart stopped. They couldn’t have figured it out. He’s only been here half an hour! How could they have connected the dots to Phantom?

“Danny, not everyone is so in the dark about ghosts as you may have thought. Mr. Simpleton and I come from a haunted town where ghosts were free to mingle with the humans until an early unit of the GIW staged a raid. 

“We know a bit more than the average Amity Park citizen. But there’s something more than that.” She looked Danny in the eye with a level gaze. 

“We know that half-ghosts exist.”

“What?” Danny asked. “How would you-”

He stopped as he saw her holding her laptop with an invisible hand.

“I was born a half-ghost.” Dr. Cavanaugh said. “My parents dated in high school but my dad died before they could have a child. But my situation is more genetics rather than a mutation. You appear to have another form, suggesting that your ghost and human halfs are more separate, while mine are mixed together.”

“How… How did your parents, you know. How does that even work? How would it be possible?” Danny asked. 

Dr. Cavanaugh shrugged. “Beats me. I just know that I’m here today.” Her gaze hardened and she continued speaking. “But you shouldn’t have to live in fear like you do. You’re a teenager, you shouldn’t be worrying about being captured or fighting all these ghosts. You should be doing your homework and hanging out with your friends.”

“Yeah, well. No one else can do the job properly.” Danny mumbled. 

“But it’s not your job.”

“I’m the one who turned on the portal!” Danny shouted. “I’m the reason the ghosts are here in the first place! So I’m going to do my best to keep everyone safe.”

Dr Cavanaugh sighed. “It’d be fruitless to argue with your obsession, but myself and Mr. Simpleton will be here in case you need help. Whether with an injury or any stress you may be suffering from. Just give us a call at our extension.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Okay. Are we done here then?”

She nodded. “Let’s get you back out to your mom so you can check out and go home.”

Together, Danny and Dr. Cavanaugh walked back down the halls and before he knew it, they were back out in the waiting room where his mom was still sitting, reading a magazine. She looked up and smiled at him. 

“Hi, Danny! Done already?” She asked. She looked at Dr. Cavanaugh and held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Danny’s mom, Maddie.”

“Dr. Cavanaugh.” She reached out and shook her hand. “Danny’s all good to go. He’s got a clean bill of health and he has nothing to worry about.”

“Oh that’s good!” His mom said, ruffling his hair. “How about we go home now?”

“Please.” Danny said walking away towards the checkout counter. 

Thanking the doctor, his mom followed after him. She signed the papers and got everything sorted. As they were walking through the doors, Danny mumbled a few words.

“I hate going to the doctors.”

[goliath-de-senfina-sango]

Fights, both physical and verbal, abound! Local Science Boy Tired of Friends' Arguement. Local Astronaut Trying Real Hard not to die Here. Local Ghost Hunting Family Talk SCIENCE and Local Art Boy Does Research

Danny and Tucker sat in the vice principal’s office.  On the wall next to the door was an array of monitors that showed security feeds.  Across from it was a desk with a globe and the filing cabinet that Lancer was going through at the moment.  If  Danny had to guess the chairs were intentionally made to be uncomfortable.  An added punishment for even being there.

“Tucker Foley,” Lancer droned.  “Chronic tardiness.  Talking in class.  Repeated loitering by the girls’ locker room.  Danny Fenton.  34 dropped beakers in the last month.  Banned for life from handling all fragile school property, but no severe mischief before today.  So, gentlemen, tell me.”  Lancer set down the folders he was reading from on his desk and leaned forward to yell in their faces.  “Why did the two of you conspire to destroy the school’s cafeteria?”

“Dash started it when he threw his mud pie into the back of my head!”  Danny was going to need a thorough shower later, but for now, turning his head to display that he’d been hit in the head with mud was enough for him.  

“He literally tried to make Danny eat the mud.”  This is why Tucker was Danny’s best friend.  He and Danny were on the same wavelength.

“Besides, destroy the cafeteria is pretty hyperbolic, don’t you think?”  Please lighten up on us because I used a vocab word.

“Mr. Baxter, as well as everyone caught on camera participating in the food fight is going to be punished for it.  You two, however, are taking the first of it with him.”  Lancer stood and walked out the door.  “I’m going to fully map out your punishments when I return.  Mr. Baxter, make sure they don’t leave.”

“We gotta find Sam!”  Tucker got up and went around Lancer’s desk.  By the time Danny was next to him, Tucker was already going through the security files on Lancer’s computer.  “Do not ask why I have his password or how.  We don’t have time for that.  Oh, thank gods, this place has security cameras in the weirdest places.”  On the screen, Tucker tracked the meat sweep through the school until it settled in one place.  “Directly below us. Got enough juice?”

Danny closed his eyes and reached inside, stretching into the void of cold winds and vast darkness, and dragged himself into it.  It swept outward over his body in a flash and for a moment he had to reorient himself.  Danny grabbed onto Tucker and intangibility filled them both.  They fell through the floors and stopped right above the floor of the basement.  “Is this… a meat locker under the school?”

“See, this is the kinda stuff that Sam needs to get changed.  Where they store their food, not what food groups are fed to us.”  Tucker started walking, and Danny stood beside him.

“This is like the time she convinced our middle school teachers to hold a Sadie Hawkins dance when no one felt like doing a dance.”  Danny rolled his eyes and looked around.  “Except this time she’s the one who got kidnapped instead of her nabbing us.  Also, repeated loitering by the girls’ locker room?”

“I figured that’d be a great place to meet someone to ask for a date.”

“How are you both a genius and a dumbass at the same time, Tuck?”

Before the geek could valiantly defend his honor, they heard a voice of strained cheer.  “My dear child, meat is good for kids.  It helps them grow and makes them smile.”  The boys looked around the corner and saw Sam stuck in a pile of meat that was definitely inedible now.  The Lunch Lady was floating in front of her, a fish and a chicken leg held up in either hand.  “Why won’t you eat it?”

“We don’t need meat.  That’s fact.”  Sam never was one to back down when she was championing something.  It was something that Danny admired about Sam.  He never thought that food was the hill Sam was willing to literally die on though.

“Silence!”  The ghost’s voice echoed and that wind picked up yet again.  Danny wondered if he could call up special effects like that for Halloween.  “You need discipline, manners, respect.  You know where that comes from?  Meat!  Fish, or chicken?”

“Plus, most of the nutrients we need are in fish and chicken,” Tucker muttered.  Or at least, he probably thought it was muttering.  What it happened to be was loud enough for the ghost to hear them, eyes bright red eyes turned toward the boys.

“I’ll deal with the ghost, you get Sam out of that meat pile.”  Danny ran as fast as he could.  His fist reared back and collided with the ghost’s head harder than he expected it to.  She was launched into the wall.  Danny immediately followed up with a kick to the face.  The Lunch Lady grabbed onto his ankle and held Danny up while floating upright.

“This is why you need meat!  You’re skin and bones!”  She then tossed Danny across the room, and at the last second, he phased through the wall.  And the ground.  It took a couple seconds of carefully making the tips of his gloves more - or less, it was still hard to tell - real to pull himself back up to the basement.

There, Danny found shish kabobs beings flung at him.  Going completely on reflex, Danny separated his torso from his legs and the deadly food sank into the concrete behind him.  There were even cracks in the wall.  While Danny pulled himself back together, an enraged Lunch Lady ghost let out a furious roar, and all the meat in the storage locker rose up.  Even the meat Tucker was pulling off of Sam in chunks rose up off of her and swirled around the ghost in a storm.  Sam and Tucker got closer to Danny until they were in arm’s reach, and the 20-foot behemoth of meat with green torches for eyes roared down at them.

“Fuck no.”  Danny grabbed his friends and the chill of invisibility and intangibility rushed through them all again.  Danny pulled and snap the gravity tethering Danny and his friends to the Earth was undone, and Danny flew through the wall to the outside, flying faster when he heard a loud crash.

“Thanks, Danny, Tuck.”  Sam shot them both a big grateful smile.  “You must be exhausted, ghost boy.  Fighting in ghost mode, yanking us through walls.  Holy shit, Danny you’re flying!”

“What would give ya that idea?”  Danny yawned in the middle of that sentence but felt it was irrelevant.  But then, everything went dark as they tumbled into a heap on the grass.  And then it went silent.

Tucker and Sam stare at each other.  For a handful of moments, neither is entirely sure what they should do.  Sam could've died.  Her best friends could have died.  How is a teenager even meant to process that?  She wants to curl up on the ground and hide from everything in that moment, will all the nasty reality that is Ghosts away.  But Tucker is bent over Danny, and Danny is out cold.  So she packs away the emotions, cools her shit, and bends down.  "You get his legs, I'll take his shoulders.  FentonWorks?"

They get him there.  Danny's parents are downstairs, working on something.  They get Danny on his bed, and Sam slumps against the door.  Tucker and Danny skipped a detention essentially and all three have skipped school.  So Tucker goes down to erase the Fenton's voice mailbox and sends out a bug to his own.  Sam has no clue why he has that ready but asks if he can do it with her folks' line.  He asks for a few minutes.  The silence passes, Tucker gets on Danny's laptop.  He always fled to the tech when he needed somewhere safe.  Eventually, he asks.  "You ok?  Today went to shit."

"No, I don't think I am.  I’m pretty sure she was going to crush me to death under all that meat that should’ve been stored in a far more sanitary manner.  I’ve got bruises and meat juice all over me and I need a nap and a shower, not in that order.”  Sam checked Danny's closet and found something she'd left there a couple of months back.  "I'm gonna do that actually.  Keep an eye on him?" Tucker grunted in acknowledgment.  That was the best she'd get so Sam grabbed a spare towel from the dresser and headed to the shower.

When Sam got back she looked over Tucker's shoulder.  Images of old ladies in familiar-looking uniforms were all over the screen.  "Looking her up?"

"If we know more about her then we can talk it out with her right?"  Tucker's fingers paused over the keyboard.  He stretched, looking over at her.  "Right?"

"Probably.  Looking to work that Foley Charm on her?"  Sam elbowed him lightly in the ribs.  Tucker clutched his chest as though he'd been broken.  Thank gods for that smile on his face.  "Tell me you aren't planning to flirt with her.  Danny might get jealous."  Tucker snorted.

"I don't think Danny is into old ladies who occasionally burst into flames." Tucker went back to typing and clicking, screen light glaring off his lenses.  "So, my theory is that ghosts draw on ambient energy to sustain themselves.  When we went into that fight my phone was on like… 50 percent.  When we got here it was at 17.  So maybe we should carry batteries on us?"

"And our wrist rays."  Sam was never letting herself be helpless like that again.  "what've you got on her so far?"

"She said the menu hasn't changed in 50 years and she wasn't kidding.  So I'm looking back at people employed by Casper back when she was alive, and hoping I can recognize her facial structure."

"Impressive."  Sam sighed and looked over at Danny.

He zipped up his suit.  Sam made a face at him and pulled off the logo of his dad's face.  "You can't go around with this on your chest."  He agreed. If Danny ever met aliens of the extradimensional kind, he didn't want them to see his dad's face plastered on him.  Danny walked into the tunnel that was his parents' ghost portal, looking all around it.  The whispers of those other worlds called out in his head again.  As he walked deeper into the portal, Danny saw nothing wrong.  Not a nut or bolt out of place.  He got to the end. It was dark.  Too dark to see anything.  Turning back, he kept a hand on the wall to steady himself.  His foot hit a raised panel, and Danny leaned to the left for support. There was a click.

Danny opened his eyes and saw Sam looking down at him.  Not unusual.  The soreness in his muscles, however, was.  Danny stopped mid-stretch and winced.  "Oh. Right.  20-foot meat monster."  Tucker was at his desk, turned around in the chair and giving him that frown he had when Dash had slammed Danny into a locker.  "How long was I out for?"

"Four days."  Tucker reached under Danny's bed and lifted up a bag of Nasty Burger.

"Four Days?!"

"Nah, like, 2 hours dude."  Tuck chuckled and handed him a wrapped burger.  "You need this dude, that fight took a shit ton outta you."

“Don’t I know it.”  Danny unwrapped the burger and sank his teeth in.  He'd been hungrier than he thought.  It felt like a blink before the burger was gone.  "Thanks, dude, I needed that.  We basically skipped lunch, didn't we?"  That thought had a horrible domino effect and Danny tore the burger wrapping in half.  "Fuck, my parents are gonna kill me!"

"I erased the voicemail from your box, mine, and Sam's.  Don't worry about that."

"Speaking of, how ya doin Sam?"  Danny turned, looking his friend over and wincing at the bruises on her arms.  “Fuck, the meat pile did that?”

“Yeah, turns out being grabbed up by a bunch of proceeded corpses can do some damage.”  Sam shrugged.  “It’s nothing I can’t fix with some concealer and sleeves.”

“It’s still warm though,” Danny said.  “You good baking yourself?”

“The heaters in the school barely work, and it’s nearly October, Danny.  Things have cooled down plenty.”  Sam frowned and looked over to Tucker.  “Do head injuries affect the perception of temperature?”

“I’m sure they can.  If only someone hadn’t summoned up a meat-obsessed lunch lady with a menu change.”  Tucker paused and raised a brow.  “Actually, how in the hell did you even get them to change it?  Nevermind the why.”

“The why, Tucker, is that schools need to promote healthier changes in the food we consume.”  Sam had that fire in her eyes.  Again.  Danny let out a long sigh, which went ignored by his bickering friends.

“And removing an entire food group from the menu was your solution?”

“It’s one we don’t even need Tucker!  Do you know how inefficient the transfer of calories from meat into our bodies is?”

“We need protein, Sam!  If there’s anything that the Lunch Lady said truthfully it’s that!  Look at Danny!  He barely gets any protein, you can see how that’s turned out for him.”

“My dude, I’m not the only skinny person here.”

“And whether or not we have meat and protein isn’t your decision to make for us all, Sam!”  Tucker glared balefully at the vegan and stood up from Danny’s chair.  “You had to be an individual and have all your individual needs met over what anyone else wanted, didn’t you?  No one but you even wanted this menu change!”

“The menu as it is now is far healthier for both us and the environment - and the ecosystems we tear down to sustain ourselves and animals that get butchered so people can enjoy the taste of their flesh don’t get a choice in what happens to them, so someone needs to make choices that help them out!”  

“Oh, oh, so mud is healthier for me to eat than chicken?  That’s fucking rich, Sam, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever fucking heard!”  Tucker was now agitated enough to start ranting in Mandarin, which was great.  “Actually, no no, the most ridiculous thing is that we’re equating the right to a choice in what we eat to an animal’s right to chose anything.  Are you insane?”  Tucker opened the door so fast the knob banged against the wall.  “I’m gonna make sure this shit doesn’t last the week!”

“We are no more innocent than those animals and they’re lives shouldn’t be put on the line for us needlessly!  And don’t you think you can go undoing all my hard work!”  Sam barged out as well, completely forgetting Danny as she slammed his door shut.  And Danny stared at that door for a moment before groaning into his pillow.

“This is going to be a whole thing, isn’t it?”  For several moments, Danny laid there and stared up at the constellations he’d put up on his ceiling in glow in the dark stickers.  His stomach reminded him of its existence, and Danny groaned again.  He still had some allowance left, so he went out and headed to the Nasty Burger.  Considering Tucker’s words and how much he’d done that day, Danny ordered a full meal.

After he’d eaten and walked it off on the way home, Danny let what had happened that day go through his mind.  Even as he fought off a small angry blob with his wrist ray, growling at it.  “Ghosts aren’t mindlessly violent beings. I know that.”  He needed to believe that.  “So, that means that she can be calmed, somehow.  She kept going on and on about the benefits of meat, and she died years ago…”  An email notification popped up on Danny’s computer, and he sighed.  “Right, homework assigned by Lancer.  What would I do without Tuck?”

The next day, Danny pulled on one of his darker shirts - a gift from Sam with some constellation’s accurately displayed - and some jeans.  His parents didn’t come up to join him and Jazz that morning, which was likely for the best.  Danny didn’t need their ghost radar pointing at him before he could figure out how to break their biases.  The second his cereal was finished, though, Danny pulled out his journal and attached pencil.  “No,” Danny snapped when he heard Jazz take a familiar breath.  “It’s not a diary, no you may not read it.  For the 11th time, Spazz.”  One weird benefit of super hearing - I can tell when she’s about to speak.  Everyone had different rhythms for when they spoke and when they were thinking etcetera.  Danny knew his sister’s patterns almost as well as Tucker and Sam’s.

Danny wrote into his journal a goal of recording his encounters with apparently sapient ghosts and how quickly he managed to pacify them.  If only he could think of how to pacify this one.

Once the hybrid got to school - later than he would’ve been had those damned blobs not been so interested in fucking with him - Danny groaned as he was dragged to the Vice Principal’s office.  There he found Tucker, who was glaring down at the desk in just the right angle to look like he was glaring directly ahead.  A trick he’d developed for gathering valuable passwords while tricking Lancer and other authorities into thinking he was just a semi-rebellious teen.  Danny couldn’t tell what Tucker could be trying to gather from the desk now, but he may have just been scowling.  Tucker was complicated that way.

“Take a seat, Mr. Fenton.”  Danny obeyed and took his seat, looking steadfastly at the space just behind Lancer’s head.  “Tell me, gentlemen, how and why did you leave my office when both of you were already being punished for starting a food fight in the cafeteria?”  Before either could come up with an answer, Lancer slammed his hand down hard on the desk, and Danny flinched.  “What could possibly have possessed you two to skip school for the rest of the day?”

Danny squirmed a bit, while Tucker took even, obviously measured breaths.  He then looked up at Lancer directly.  “We were worried about Sam, sir.  She hadn’t answered any of her texts, and she always answers even when we’re fighting to make sure we know she’s safe.”  Not untrue, Sam wouldn’t have been able to answer a text if they tried that.  Danny nodded along to Tucker’s story.

“We left out the window to find her, which took forever since she had gone to find a way to help organize something for the school.”  Danny put on his most apologetic face.  “We’re truly sorry about ditching you, Mr. Lancer, but we had to make sure our friend was safe, you see.  We wanted to make sure none of the jocks or anyone had gone and done something horrible to her as revenge for getting the menu changed for a week.”

Lancer glared between the two of them for several seconds more, and Danny fought to keep himself still.  “Fine,” Lancer finally allowed.  “I will be following up with Ms. Manson to confirm all of this, but you won’t be receiving too harsh a punishment for looking out for your friend.  For endangering yourselves by leaving through the window, however, and for leaving without simply telling me, you will be serving both lunch detention and after-school detention.  Do you understand, boys?”

“Of course, Mr. Lancer.”  It amazed Danny, at times, that he and Tucker could speak in unison.  They were like twins.

“Dismissed.  You two best not be late to my class.”

On the way to class, Danny brought up his thoughts on trying to appease the Lunch Lady.  “Her name is Agatha,” Tuck said.  “Agatha Reece.  And maybe you could, I dunno, teach her about the health crisis in America?  Help me organize the school to reform the menu the right way?”

“You want it changed too now?  I thought you were gonna get it changed back early, or something?”

“Oh no, the food around here sucks either way.”  Tucker rolled his eyes.  “I just wish we had like, a better storage of better food in general.  I could recommend my uncle and aunt’s farm for fresh, nearby food products.”

“If only we knew how Sam had convinced the school to do this whole ‘veggie week’ thing.”  Danny shook his head.  “That’s what really doesn’t make sense to me.  We’ve only been in school for like, a month or so.  How the hell did Sam ‘wear them down’ so quickly?”

“No clue,” Tucker growled.  For a moment the hair on Danny’s nape stood on end at the sound.  “But, I’m going to make a petition, and head around the school getting signatures for a better permanent change decided on by the students.”

Danny patted Tucker’s shoulder and nodded somberly.  “Leave some printer paper for the rest of us at least?”

Tucker raised his nose, Danny now straining to hold in the laughter in front of the door.  “Sorry Danny, but a man on a mission has to go to all lengths to complete his quest.”

Danny bowed at the waist.  “Of course, Friar Tuck, how could I possibly forget?”

“You are forgiven, peasant Daniel.”  Tucker laughed and pulled Danny into the classroom.  Things would be alright.  Danny just needed to weather the storm and make sure both of his friends were still friends by the end of it.

It proved far more difficult a task done than said.  The three had most classes together, but Tucker was busily writing something down every few seconds in a second journal in his desk while he worked.  Tuck had the most fascinating form of ambidextrousness.  He barely paid any attention to Danny’s attempts to start a conversation and crumpled up any notes about Sam he slid over.

Similarly, Sam was ignoring him almost entirely.  She took her notes, but every time she caught him whispering to Tucker, she glared and went cold on Danny himself.  Am I not allowed to talk to both of my friends?

Lunch came around, Lancer had them eating in his room, and Danny had never been more grateful to Tucker’s mom than he had been when Tuck handed him an extra bagged lunch.  “Tuck, you are the best.”

“I know it, dude.”

“Gentlemen!  This is meant to be a time of quiet reflection upon your misdeeds.”  Lancer glared at them until the teens went to silently eating, and Lancer went back to whatever he was doing on his computer.  If Danny focused on the man’s headphones hard enough he could pick up the faint sound of… blasters?  Weird.

At the end of the day, however, while the two were meant to be heading to detention, Tucker was going around and asking groups of friends who were lingering about something and holding up a clipboard that Danny was almost certain he stole from his dad’s office.  Along with that pen.  Never was Danny ever earlier than Tucker to something, but apparently, detention was one of those things.  Sam, surprisingly, was also there.

“Lancer got you too?”  Danny asked as he swept a bit nearer to the goth

“I was gone all day.”  Sam shrugged, pushing the few remains of grass and mud into a pile and then grabbing a dustpan.  “Plus I wanted to help clean it up anyway.  We need this place to eat in after all.”

“Actually, I heard Jerry and Katelyn at least were eating on the theater stage.”  The two scooped everything up into a trash bag with the dustpan.  “They were inviting some other people to bring sandwiches and chips and stuff.”

“Oh wow,” Tucker called out from where Danny was very sure he shouldn’t have been able to hear them.  “No one wanted to eat garbage right from the ground?  I’m surprised, shocked even.”

“Had you actually been there to see, Tucker, there were plenty of people eating peacefully in the cafeteria today!”  Sam looked downright murderous and stomped off to clean away from Tucker.  Danny sighed a heavy sigh and shook his head.

The detention had gone on for an hour, but it’d felt like forever.  Danny watched both his friends march off in different directions and groaned.  Another friendless night for him.  After a trip to the Nasty Burger, Danny did a little walk around the city.  A few ghosts that he could see when the world lost focus skittered away from him or ignored him entirely.  Some attacked, but his wrist ray had yet to run out of juice even though he forgot to charge it last night.  “Maybe something to do with my other-self.  Gonna have to ask mom and dad about that.”  A shiver ran down Danny’s spine, a puff of mist coming out of his mouth and he looked around, letting his senses shift into that surreal state of his ghostly self.  He saw nothing out of the ordinary.  Relaxing, Danny sighed and headed home.

"Danny!"  His dad, Jack Fenton, only seemed to speak in exclamation marks. Danny wondered if he'd ever had an inside voice.  "C' mon, dinner's ready son!"

Danny raised a brow.  "Who cooked?" He'd eaten his Nasty Burger meal and was pretty sure he got all he needed.

"I did!"  On the other hand, more food that wasn't infected with ectoplasmic residue sounded nice.  Danny set down his bag and headed into the kitchen, where his dad had set out chicken, mashed potatoes, garlic bread, and spinach.  His mom and sister were already sitting and eating, and Danny gave them both a wave. 

"Hi, Danny!  Juice is in the fridge.  Jazz reminded your father and I that we need to refresh our minds with some air now and then.  I thought, why not a family dinner?"  Mom shrugged as she picked up a chicken leg.  "Jack insisted on cooking."

"Mom," Jazz said in her best calming voice, "Dad never mutates the food."

While Mom and Jazz debated who had the bigger mishaps with ectoplasm - Danny felt the Christmas turkey and Dad dragging them into a world of blinding perpetual light ranked as the biggest mishaps period - Danny grabbed himself a plate and fruit punch.  Jazz clearly grabbed some groceries before telling their parents to surface. 

Halfway through his meal, a thought struck Danny.  "Hey Dad, Mom?  How does ectoplasm interact with electricity in its rawest most natural form?  The ectoplasm, not the electricity."

Jazz stared at him in betrayal, Why written in her expression.  His parents, however, jumped on the thought of their son having an interest in their work.  Danny had never seen his dad swallow food that fast.

"Ya see Danno, ectoplasm as it is when we retrieve it is naturally an energy thief.  In relation to electromagnetic radiation, it soaks in any and all of it from the area with the exclusion of green visible light.  That's why it feels so cold."

"If we can refine our engines properly we can utilize the flip side of  that natural state," his mom added, "We could revolutionize energy efficiency in technology around the world!"

"It can store up a lot of power, but once it hits it's maximum?"  Dad held his hands together then spread them out so fast he almost smacked Jazz and Danny.  "It all comes out in an intense burn!  Ectoplasm is either plasma hot or cold as space.  When it's cold, it'd drain the power out of everything around it."

Danny nodded, letting the info process for a couple of moments while he ate.  "So if, say, a ghost was to eat human food…?"

"Well," his mom twirled her fork around.  "It likely wouldn't, but if it did the ghost would soak up all the energy that could be gotten out of the material in the food, leaving nothing but ashes."

Danny nodded, curiosity satisfied, and steered the conversation elsewhere.  Once he was done clearing off his plate, Danny was struck with a realization.  It was the sort of thing that happened all the time, when a thought lingered in his head, waiting to present itself.  Usually, that was artistic inspiration.  Now he knew exactly how to calm down Agatha.  Up the stairs, he ran to his computer.

[tenecity]

from haters to lovers; lin yanjun

from haters to lovers—a series where nine percent and you have the cliche, typical love story

au; highschool

cr. @aestheticninepercent i juST HAD TO ADD THIS IN its so prettyyyy bub ure a genius

[AT THE START]

You hated playboys. Like you absolutely hate them. You think they are detestable. I mean, they literally go around, leading other people on, enticing others with their enchanting looks and the later on, turn from the angel to the devil and break people’s hearts. I mean hello?? We’re in 2018?? Some respect for others’ feelings please??? They never take relationships seriously; everything is just a fling for them. But have they ever considered the fact that some people emotionally invest in relationships??? This world isn’t always cruel and cold; people have feelings too, people have emotions too, and playing with their heartstrings like a puppeteer isn’t what a decent human being should do.

Hence why you hate Lin Yanjun. He is literally

playboy

ˈpleɪbɔɪ/

noun

      Lin Yanjun

He is the Original™ playboy of the school, that one heartbreaker that everyone doesn’t want to fall for, but eventually falls for, gets broken and moves on from. Everytime he opens his locker or looks under his desk, there is at least 5 love letters waiting for him to read but they are never read because he just glances at them, waits for them to pile up, and then at the end of each term, he throws them into the rubbish bin. You have seen him do it. And it makes your blood boil.

So yes, you absolutely hate Lin Yanjun. Not popular opinion, especially since at least 90% of the girls in school pine for him, 9.9% of them have boyfriends so technically they can’t pine for him (although you have seen boys crying at the rooftops because their girlfriends had been stolen by Yanjun) and then there is the 0.1%, which is just basically you, who shows no interest whatsoever for that idiot.

“Oh my god!!! Lin Yanjun!!!” The girls screamed as they all crowd around the volleyball court and watch the said boy play. Honestly, it’s not like he is a very good player. Average, at best? You scoff when you hear the screams go off again and drop of your bag. “Y/n!” Your captain calls you. “Decided to take a break from studying?” You shrug and smile cheekily at him, playfully hitting his arm. “Closet mugger, you don’t get to say that to me.” Picking up the other edge of the net,, you head over to the court and helped Zhengting set it up. You hooked the ends up to the pole and asked “Zhengting, you’re not seriously considering Yanjun as a main player, right?” “Why not?” He questions as he tugs the string to pull the net up. “Because, he is a terrible player.” You say it in a matter-of-factly way.

“He is, quite unfortunately, not a bad player. You have a bias! That’s why. Don’t give that pout now. Go and join the team and start warming up.” He says as he rolls your eyes at you, knowing full well how you hate Yanjun; and he secretly agrees. Whether it is because Yanjun had kissed his girlfriend during last year’s Christmas party, it doesn’t matter. At least there is one person in the school is clearly not blinded by the stunts Yanjun pulls.

You get on the opposite team, fist bumping your teammates. Yanjun is at the edge of the court, a smirk on his face as he throws the ball up and sends it flying over the net. Ziyi hits it back perfectly, catching Fei off guard and she misses it, crashing ungracefully on the floor. You can almost hear Yanjun inwardly groaning and you send him a wink as he glares back at you. 1-0, playboy.

The game continues and neither team is having a strong win. As soon as your team ends their victory hug, Yanjun’s team scores another point. And you’ve had enough; it’s now or never, you think as Xukun sets you the ball and you jump up, hand posed and you slam the ball down to the other court. You can hear Zhengting screaming “Perfect spike y/n!!!!” and you smile smugly to yourself as you land.

What you didn’t expect was to hear a body crashing to the ground and a sharp cry of pain.

[SOMEWHERE IN BETWEEN]

You cross your arms as you wait outside the infirmary. It’s not your fault Lin Yanjun sucks as receiving the ball and he ended up fracturing his arm. Does he not know how to break his fall? Who the hell breaks their arm while playing volleyball?

The door opens and the doctor comes out, with Zhengting and Yanjun trailing behind him. You speechlessly bow the the doctor and look at the two. Zhengting is giving you the warning look and Yanjun… that’s weird. You thought he would be glowering at you, but he wasn’t. He just looked rather dazed, if not stunned, a deep crease between his brows and his head sometimes tilting to the left and right. You sincerely hope he didn’t hit his head.

“Y/n, y/n? Y/N!” Zhengting is nearly screaming at you when your head snaps up and stare at Zhengting. Was I staring at...Lin Yanjun this whole time? You frown at the thought. Gross. “Y/n, stop frowning, you look exactly like Yanjun. Yanjun, Yanjun, YANJUN! Hey yes brother, welcome to reality. You feeling ok? Why do you look so dazed?” Zhengting shakes Yanjun and the other’s eyes shift their gaze from you to Zhengting. “Huh….?” Zhengting rolls his eyes and looks back at you.

What? You mouth.

Apologise. He mouths back, jerking his chin at Yanjun.

You sigh. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you, Yanjun.” Zhengting stares at you with doubt written all over his face and Yanjun seems to snap out of whatever trance he is in and just nods. “Not your fault, I should have broken my fall better.” He says nonchalantly. “Captain, my chauffeur is here. Can I go?” He doesn’t even reply and slips from Zhengting’s hold, stalking over to his car.

“Close your mouth, y/n. You look ugly like that.” Zhengting says as he wrinkles his nose in fake disgust and walks towards the bus stop. You automatically seal your lips together. You don’t know whether you should be shocked that he didn’t even blame you for a single thing, or be further disgusted by the fact that Yanjun is not only a playboy, he is also rich. Filthy rich. I mean, who the hell calls 4 cars to bring one person home?

Zhengting puffs out some air and turns to look at you as you take a seat next to him on the bench. “Y/n, if you did that because-”

“You know I didn’t,” You idly reply back. Zhengting sighs and takes a seat next to you. “Yea, I know you didn’t…”

He sighs so hard that his shoulders slump. “I am just worried…. Because I don’t know just what his fanclub of hysterical girls will say about you.”

Zhengting is right. Those hysterical girls had spread word that you had intentionally slammed the ball down and made it impossible for Yanjun to receive. Every single girl you pass by has at least said one comment about how you’re a single loser who is just trying to get Yanjun’s attention. You close your eyes as you seat at your place, hoping that the crude comments will wash over you like water.

You hear a fist slam down on the table and you open your eyes, thinking that it was Zhengting, for he had a short temper, especially when it came to people bullying you. He hated it that you would passively allow others to push you over and taunt you. You had shrugged and just said it didn’t matter.

Well obviously, it mattered a lot to a certain Taiwanese because he is looking at you from across the classroom, the desk he had slammed slightly dented, a glint in his eyes as his irises pierce through you. Normally, such a glare wouldn’t put you off. But today, your stomach feels weird and you feel choked, words stuck in your throat.

“Are you seriously going to continue to let this bunch of giggling shits bitch about you?” You have never noticed how silky his voice was; like a lightly flowing stream, gentle and soft, but at the rocks they gush and rush and cut the edges of the hard stones. The room has fallen silent, besides the crunching sound from the edge of the classroom (probably you zhangjing). The smirks on the girls’ faces have fallen and the snark comments, dead on their lips. “I, er,” You mumble, looking at everywhere but Yanjun.

“God.” He sighs out and walks up to you, an unreadable expression on his face. The next thing you know, his hand is having an iron grip on your wrist and he is dragging you up to the rooftop, despite your protests for him to let you go.

[AT THE END OF THE DAY]

“GOD! I told you to let go, damn.” You glare at him, and snatch your hand away from him, rubbing your red wrists. He almost looks apologetic when he grabs it again, but this time, his thumb gently swipes over the red spots. Your wrists is lifted up to his face and his eyes are assessing if there was any damage done.

The sun rays hit perfectly against his angled face, giving his skin a pretty glow, the shadows casted all at the right angles and positions, accentuating his beautiful features. You tear your eyes away from him and swallow hard, praying hard that the pulsing rate of your heart wouldn’t be detected as his fingers graze over your translucent skin, where the veins are pumping with life and vigour, like the waters plummeting down the Niagara Falls.

You feel his lips ghost over your skin and out of pure reflex, you jerk your hand and simply stare at him. “What are you doing?”  “Trying to kiss your ‘injured’ wrist?” He casually replies, an eyebrow raised, as if asking why are you so startled?

The audacity of him, seriously! To actually say that out, shamelessly! Playboy syndrome perhaps.

“You look extremely cute when you blush.” The heat only flames even stronger and your cheeks burn. “So, would you rather stay here in the stairway or would you go to the rooftop?” He asks, a hand extending out to you. You take it and continue climbing up the stairs, the colour in your cheeks not dissipating as you become hyper-aware of how Yanjun’s fingers graze the inside of your palm and move stealthily to intertwine with your fingers, as if like water, flowing through your palm. Only, unlike water, the fingers anchor themselves at your knuckles and hold on tight.

“Do you plan on telling me what you want to talk to me about, or are you going to just continue staring at me like I grew another head?” You mumble out. Yanjun laughs, a tinkling one.

“Wanna know why I missed that ball you spiked, when I definitely could have received it?” He begins. You roll your eyes at the ‘I definitely could have received it’ part. “Oh, so it wasn’t because you’re a trashy player?”

He leans in, pink lips so near, you didn’t think you would have the self control to keep your hands to yourself. “Ok, ok, I get it, sorry. Now tell me why.” You awkwardly move backwards and stutter out.

“Because, when you spike,

You look so damn hot.”

“What?” You attempt to wrench your hand out of his grasp, out of pure surprise and because you want to hide your burning face in your hands. Who the hell has so much courage to say that? Well apparently, Lin Yanjun-

His name is the last thought as your hand is flipped and Yanjun’s fingers are flowing through your fingers and are intertwined with yours, gripping hard as he presses your hand against the wall. The other hand lands itself on your side and he holds you gently, but firmly. Pink lips lean in but stop just an inch near your lips, ghosting over the trembling skin, as if contemplating.

Okay, that’s it.

You lean in and press your own lips against his. His lips are chapped but surprisingly soft. They are soon slick from your tongue swiping against his, an apology for the hurt spot that had just been in between your teeth. He kisses back with equal fervor, lips capturing and recapturing yours, each suck on the lips, a needier one than the previous. His right hand releases your hand to cup your jaw, tilting it upwards as he squeezes it a little, as if he can’t have enough of you. The other hand snakes behind your back and preses you forward, flushing your body against his. You take in a breath. He smells like fresh dew on freshly cut grass and wet earth, a hint of new flowers and blossoming spring.

His lips move down to your jaw and he traces it carefully with his finger, his lips trailing right after. The kisses flow down to your neck and you bite your lip as he presses teeth prints onto your the pale skin, lips brushing over the marred skin.

Your fingers weave their way through his silk-like hair, gripping at the roots and pushing him down, clearly not having enough of him. He moves back to attack your lips; and then, a light fleeting press of the lips against your forehead that leaves you light headed. He leans his head against yours as he catches your breath.

“You are exactly like what they say. I would rate a 9/10 for kissing.” You say once he pulls away from you. He laughs. “Is that all you have to say?”

“What else do I say? Will you go out with me?” You had mindlessly said it, but as soon as the words are out of your mouth, you regret it immediately. The crease reappears on his forehead, the refreshed and youthful look disappears. “You mean, you weren’t planning on accepting my request for a date?”

You choose your words carefully, but in the end, they flow out relentless, like water bursting out from a dam. “I mean, how do I know if you’re serious about me? And come on, just a couple of days ago you hated me-”

“And you hated me too. I….” he scratches his head and huffs. “I never hated you. You… you didn’t whine for me, like all those other girls did. You didn’t suck up to me. You...were intriguing and enchanting. I…..I had a crush on you for the longest time.” You stare at him. Residential playboy has a crush on you? Impossible.

“Do you remember when you were 10? You lived in that log house temporarily, for a holiday I think. I...live in that village, and lived in the village. I was the boy who helped your aunt. But after that, you barely spared me a glance.”

“Remember when you were 12? I was that boy at the stream but after that, you… you left and never came back.” He whispers the end, the hand that had still be on your side, squeezes your hips slightly with trembling fingers, as if he was scared you would be gone again.

“But still, everyday, sneaking peeks at you from my window when you went with your aunt to the market, and seeing you wrestle the boys instead of playing with dolls, made me love you even more…” He chuckled. “You were...different. Everyone else was predictable, flowing all in the same direction. But you always went against the tide.”

“I couldn’t believe my luck, when I saw you walking through the gates on the first day of school.”

You stare at him, and searching for words, you could only say, “Lin Yanjun, you really are a hopeless romantic.”

He laughs, warm, safe and home. “Is that really all you can say?” And you chuckle back, warmth surrounding you, peace and serenity filling your entire being.

As you lean against Yanjun, you vaguely remembering doing the same thing for a little cute boy with dimples, behind the log house, at the edge of a forest stream, where the glistening water had flowed amongst the dark green trees.

—水

[BEFORE]

As a little child, you loved going to your aunt’s house. She was those few city people who grew to dislike the hustle amongst the tall buildings, and had decided to move outwards and into nature.

She created the log house herself and it was the most beautiful thing you have seen, with pretty wild flowers and vines running up the edges of the door frame, a comfortable fire in the living room and a warm bunk for you to sleep in. You loved the peace and quiet; you loved going to the village just down the narrow path, to listen to the old folks tell you acient legends and secrets.

When you were 10 or so, she had asked you to help her bring some pots up to roof. While she was bringing them in from the village to the house, a small boy, who had been bouncing a ball had come up to her and asked if she needed help, so she passed some pots to him and that’s how she brought the boy to you.

As you held the pots and glass bottles and climbed up to the roof, the boy didn’t speak a word, his eyes only following yours. It’s fine. You like the silence.

You get to the to the rooftop and pull out the dirty old cloth off the roof floor. Unbeknownst to you, when you did that, the glass pots and bottles had slipped from your hand.

The coloured glass shards fly and some fall onto the newly uncovered skylight with a clank. The boy raises his eyebrows and then furrows them together. Eyes avoiding his, you stoop down to pick up the glass shards when a hand grabs yours, stopping you from picking them up.

Head tilted up, you give him a questioning look. And for the first time his lips unseal. “Look.” He says, pointing at the house below.

The glass shards have caught some of the setting sun’s rays and were shedding red, orange, green shadows on the wooden floor.

Without another word, you take a glass bottle from the boy’s hands and break it, as he moves to arrange the broken glass pieces to cover the skylight.

You meet the boy again, when you were 12 and had gone to pick some berries with your aunt. You had wandered to the stream and were marvelling at the small but blossoming life under the crystal surface. He wasn’t too far away, standing in the middle of gushing waters and rocks, trying to catch a fish.

You sensed his presence and your eyes automatically moved from the glittery scales of the fishes to his lean figure. You find that his eyes are already on you.

“Want one?” he blurts out, pointing at the basket on the other side of the bank. “.....You give me one fish for 5 berries?” You reply. He shrugs and waddles towards you, carefully guiding you through the waters and pulling you to the other side.

Your aunt had found the two of you at the stream, talking and laughing, and had decided to leave the two of you there. She left you a lamp and a phone, before trudging back to the log house, a smile on her lips.

“There’s the constellation, Crux. I think it might just be the smallest constellation, but it’s one of the brightest.” He lies down next to you on the grass, and breathes in, enjoying the smell of wet earth.

“And?” You ask him, turning to face him, an elbow propping you up.

“And, that’s exactly like you. I’ve seen you wrestle with the boys in the village. You’re small but fast and quick. And bright, like the constellation.” His irises, almost black from the lack of light, still shine brightly in the darkness, reflecting the fleeting moonlight. It looked just like the stream’s gushing water, glittering from the reflections of the same moonlight.

And you think, he is one, the Crux, the brightest of them all.

“You’re really pretty, you know.” He almost says it idly.

Him. Is the last thought you have as he presses his lips against yours, breathing in your scent of fresh flowers, and you taking in the scent of wet earth that clings to his clothes.

That’s the last he sees of you, because the next day, you had gone back to the city. You had then moved from Taiwan to Beijing for your education. And you never saw him again.

That is of course, until now.

series

Cr. idea of broken glass shards to pg 205, 206 of “counting by 7s” by Holly Goldberg Sioan

“there’s the constellation…” line to weightless, written by johnsonzzzyc

[monaisme]

Day 4: impaling

Day 4: impaling

Okay, he may not have been as tech savvy as Tony, but a little sleuthing and that moron kid, Flash’s constant need for online validation had brought Happy directly to Peter’s friends and classmates. Step one, done.

Step two, it seemed, was going to need some work. The whole ‘Get them all to safety’ would have been a whole lot easier if Beck’s drones hadn’t blown up the freakin’ jet.

Happy swore, if he ever got his hands on that psycho...

Brushing thoughts of murder and revenge from his mind, Happy turned to the kids, looking wide-eyed at the burning metal shell. “New plan!” He bellowed, “Into the tower!

And as he corralled the kids toward their new destination, Happy growled into his comm link, “New plan, Peter—Go get Beck.”

* * * * * *

The mad dash to the tower was treacherous. Bullets were flying and lasers were searing through the air. Chips and chunks of concrete, brick, and mortar bit at their skin, yeah, but they were still moving and that was all that mattered.  

They neared the entrance, “Go into the Crown Jewels vault!” Happy directed as they ran. “The walls are twelve feet thick!” Their goal was in sight and the path was clear. They just needed to find...

There!

The doors opened with ease, the kids barrelling through, with Happy right on their heels. He stopped only to hurry the doors closing, but it wasn’t enough and one lone drone made its way in behind them.

Damn it!

“Take cover!” Happy ordered and the kids were off and out of sight in seconds. A couple of them had taken refuge behind display cases, the rest cowering behind Happy in a small alcove.

The drone idled, then started to drift.

Was it hunting?

Happy was guessing at this point, but he needed a plan, fast. He figured Beck was too busy to be flying this thing, especially if Peter was dealing with him, so it probably had motion sensors. Maybe if he could cover the drone with his suit jacket, it would... Flash picked that moment to thrust his arm out in front of Happy, his stupid phone recording like any of that was urgent right this minute. The idiot! Happy shoved his arm back and prepared to...

What? No.

Waving his arms like a crazy man, Happy tried to draw the girl’s attention, but she was either intentionally ignoring him or so single-minded in her determination that she didn’t notice. The mace she was trying to finagle from the grip of the knight display was too heavy and Happy knew she wouldn’t be able to lift it—

She gave it one last tug, freed it from its confines—and promptly dropped it to the ground.

The accompanying clang triggered something in the drone, the whine of lasers powering up filled the room.

Happy stepped out from his alcove, ready to wrangle the drone, for better or for worse. These kids needed to get to the vault, and fast. His arms extended to grab it when the clatter of falling armour across from her caught the drone’s attention. The hail of bullets was deafening, but the girl was on it in its distraction and had bludgeoned it before Happy could say,”Go!”

The now tell-tale sound of another drone came from around a corner.

Shit! There were more!

“Go-go-go!” He pulled the few kids from the alcove out, shoving them in the direction they needed to head, then helped Mace-girl and her friend as she dropped the weapon on the floor and they both scrambled over the debris. “Let’s go!”

And they did.

They were almost to the door when the second drone starting firing. With reflex honed by years of protecting a loudmouth like Tony Stark, Happy dragged the girls in front of him, shielding them with his body. They’d made it this far. There was no way Happy was letting one of these kids get hit now.

They ran the last few feet... the girls were in.

Happy just needed to shut that damned door.

He turned to grip the edge of the door. It was heavy enough that he’d need to pull it with his whole weight

The drone, however, wouldn’t let up.

Every attempt to position his hands would result in a burst of gunfire intent on blasting his fingers off. If only he could use something to distract it!

A quick glance to his right found another suit of armour, this one wielding a shield. Without a thought, he grabbed it and flung it forward, anticipating the imminent destruction of their second drone.

Yeah.

That didn’t work.

With a muttered, “How does Cap do that?” he took advantage of it at least being distracted and heaved the door shut. He took barely a second to sigh in relief. They’d made it.

He just needed to assess the situation with the kids and figure out a plan. With a sense of determination, Happy turned away from the door—

And grunted in shock and pain. “What the...”

His eyes went immediately to the bejeweled hilt of some sort of dagger sticking out of his belly.

The next thing he noticed was Flash—of course.

The kid was pale as a ghost, which would have concerned him, save for the fact that the kid’s hand was still hovering around the handle of the dagger.

Happy took a shaky breath. They really didn’t have time for this. “Kid,” he ground out. “You just stabbed me.”

Flash pulled his hand away, like a kid caught reaching for a hot stove. His mouth moved for a second before any sound actually came out. “Actually, sir, you impaled yourself. You see, if I had thrust forward, you’d be correct but it was your momentum that—“

Mace-girl came up and cuffed Flash in the back of the head. “You idiot! When did you even pick up a knife?!”

He stared at her, “It’s actually a dagger, MJ.”

Mace-girl, MJ glared at him. “You know what? Stop. I don’t care anymore. Don’t talk. Don’t anything. I don’t want to hear you. Go sit in the corner so I can plot my revenge later!”

Flash slinked off, muttering something about how it wasn’t his fault.

Happy snickered, suppressed a groan, and took in the rest of the room. The kids were all standing, watching, and waiting to see what was going to happen next. He needed to get them through this, one way or another.

“Okay, guys, just like before,” he called out, “Everyone find a spot and hide, quick!”

They all moved quickly, save for MJ who seemed to be waiting for something.

“C’mon kid, you’ve got to find somewhere.” He looked around the vault. Display cases and columns littered the room. “There’s plenty to choose from.”

“But what about you?” She asked quietly. “You needed to be putting pressure on that, like 2 minutes ago,” she stated matter-of-factly.

He smiled at her concern. “We’ve got bigger things to worry about, like getting you and your friends outta here. Let’s get through this and then we’ll worry about me, got it?”

She looked like she wanted to argue, but she had to know that Happy wasn’t wrong.  She eventually nodded.

That taken care of, Happy called out, “Okay, everyone just stay calm now. We just need to hold tight. Spider-Man will take care of this and then we’ll get you back to your teachers. Got it?”

He took the silence as an affirmative.

Happy’s comm link flared to life, “Happy? Happy, are you alive?”

He’d never been so happy to hear the Spider-brat, but then the sound of crackling caught his attention.

Happy turned to face the door. Damn it.

“I bought us some time,” he replied to Peter, taking in the pace the drone’s laser beam was melting through the door, “But not much.”

* * * * * *

This was the part of the job that Happy had always hated; the waiting. Time was moving, as made apparent by the progress the drone was making on the door, but it felt more like watching someone pour molasses on a cold day rather than anticipating their imminent death.

But that might have been the blood loss talking.

He stood as sentry (or maybe it was a subtle side lean against the lectern) at the center of the room, observing and hoping (and maybe praying, too) that he wouldn’t have to deal with what would happen if the drone managed to make it through.

The kids were staying where they had planted, which was good. They didn’t need to watch the slow and steady melt of metal.

And they didn’t have to see the slowly growing patch of red dripping down the front of Happy’s always crisp white shirt. Yes, he’d left the knife in—sorry, dagger. He wasn’t an idiot, but it still bled, and badly enough that he was growing worried... and grateful that he’d worn the black suit.

A voice chimed out from behind a display of broaches, “I don’t know about any of you guys, but I think I’m gonna pass on the next field trip. Who’s with me?”

Happy shifted his weight so he could scan the room, reconfirming everyone’s location.

A small chorus of me’s chimed from different spots in the room. There was one emphatic ‘amen to that!’ that Happy had to chuckle at, and then there was Ned. He’d been so quiet to this point, that Happy had almost forgotten he was there, but they made eye contact then, as Ned peeked out from his corner.

Happy nodded a quick greeting, ignoring the fact that the motion made him more than a little dizzy. Any sort of real acknowledgement of the boy would definitely bring up questions neither of them could answer.

“Sir,” He sounded so hesitant, not like the Ned he’d met those times with Peter. “Um, can we help you at all?”

Happy blinked slow, he was getting tired, and help did sound nice... but, no. He had to protect the kids. That was his job now. “It’s okay, kid. Thanks, though. Spider-Man will get that bastard soon and we’ll all get outta here.”

“No, sir, I mean...” Ned stopped talking and looked down at Happy’s feet and then up at him again.

Oh.

The small puddle of blood pooling at Happy’s feet wasn’t too bad, he decided. He swiped at the small banner hanging from the front of the lectern and dropped it to the floor, effectively hiding any cause for concern. “Don’t worry kid, I got this,” he promised and moved to watch the door again.

If he closed his eyes to quell nausea first, no one needed to know.

The drone had an inch of metal left to go through, if that.

Happy wondered if Peter was okay—Happy hoped Peter was okay.

And then, amazingly, the drone stopped.

The quiet that fell over the room caught the attention of everyone, and they all stuck their heads out to investigate. Flash was the first to call it out. “Does that mean it’s over?”

“I don’t know?” Happy answered. Truthfully, he was starting to feel kind of fuzzy, but they couldn’t know that. “Hang on.” He straightened to walk over to the door when Ned rushed past him.

“I’ll check!” He offered,even as he cautiously, yet firmly pushed the door open to investigate. Ned didn’t say anything at first, just shouldered it open a bit more. And then, “Uh, guys.” He spun around to look at everyone, “The drones are down! Spider-Man did it!”

High-fives were shared by all, one of the girls was weeping, and then MJ’s friend piped up, “Hey! Mr. Harrington is at the police barricade on the south side of the grounds.” She waved her phone up in the air, looking at everyone, “Let’s go!”

And like a whirlwind, they flew out the doors with a rush of, “Thanks for saving our lives,” and “Feel better soon!”

Happy couldn’t blame them. He wished he could leave, too.  

Flash barely mumbled an, “I’m sorry you were impaled,” before he rushed off into the cloudy London day.

Happy thought they were all gone. The room was so quiet and with his charges now safe and away, he could take of the now more urgent matter at hand.

He grunted as he slowly, clumsily lowered himself to the floor, back to the lectern that had kept him upright for what must’ve been forever. He needed... he needed... a phone. He could call... um... who could he call? He closed his eyes and tried to focus but it was getting hard with the adrenaline wearing off and all.

“Mr. Happy?”

Ned?  

He opened his eyes and saw both Ned and MJ crouching before him. Ned spoke, “Mr. Happy, can I help now?”

Happy shook his head to decline “You’re teacher’s... teacher’s waiting,” he gasped in pain.

Ned and MJ shared a look and without a word, MJ was off and running.

Good, he thought, at least someone was listening to him.

Happy slumped to the side, brightening the pain in his belly even more.

“Hold on, Mr. Happy. We’ve got you,” he promised.

Without a word, Ned helped Happy stretch out on the floor. The stone floor was cold and as such, Happy couldn’t contain the shivers that overwhelmed him.

“Here you go, Mr. Happy, sir. This might help.” Ned placed his sweater across his chest. “I think you’re going into shock so... yeah.”

Happy chuckled. “I’m fine.”

“I’m sure you are, Mr. Happy.”

Happy felt Ned messing with something. He heard his shirt being ripped, and felt chilled air against his stomach.

“Mr. Happy, did you know that Peter and I took a really hardcore first-aid course last summer?” He paused, “Well, I guess five summers ago?”

Happy shook his head no in response.

“Yeah, we figured it would be helpful with all those cutbacks with the paramedics and all. Every second counts, right?”

“Wha?”

“I’m just explaining so that you’ll know that I’m pretty sure I’m helping when I do this.”

Happy’s vision whited out in that moment. He knew pain. Hell, he and pain were buddies... but this, today—too much. He succumbed to the blackness.

* * * * * *

It couldn’t have been too long before Happy came back to himself.

He was still on the floor.

And someone was calling his name?

“—ppy! Hey, Happy, c’mon man. Mr. Stark will kill me if something happens to you!” A gloved hand was patting his cheek.

He opened his eyes, but only a little bit. “Wha’s goin’on?” He slurred.

A whole bunch of Peter was suddenly in his face, “Happy, are you really awake?”

He scowled, “Yeah, m’wake.”

“Thank goodness! The webbing looks like its slowing down the bleeding. We’re just working on getting you a ride outta here now.” Peter looked behind him and called out clarification, “Yeah, it should be under ‘D,’ Ned.”

“Why ?” Ned inquired.

Peter laughed, “’D’ is for dickhead.”

Ned laughed and then called out, “Found it!”

“Good, now tell Fury he has three minutes to get a medical evac here or else!”

Those had apparently been the magic words for Happy, “Evac!” He was fighting to sit up. “Di’ Beck hur’ you?” Happy needed to make sure that Peter was okay. They’d just gotten him back and he couldn’t lose him again.

“Hey, hey, Happy, calm down.  I’m fine. I promise.” Peter soothed. “Stay down. Help’s coming, okay?”

Peter lied about injuries all the time. He had to be. “But Beck?” Happy ground out. He could see the cuts and bruises on Peter’s face.

“He’s gone.” Is all Peter said.

“Then wha’s wrong?”

Peter looked up at the ceiling, his eyes glassy as he laughed, “Geez, Happy! After my high school bully stabbed you, you decided to stand up and bleed out for approximately 7 minutes like the total badass that you are when you should have been receiving first aid. Now please, ask me what’s wrong.”

Happy thought about it. “Bu...” He needed Peter to understand, “Pud’l  sm’l.”

Having no idea what Happy was talking about, Peter looked to Ned.

“I think he thinks that because there wasn’t bucket loads of blood on the floor, that this can’t be that bad.”

Realization dawned on Peter, and he grew serious. “Happy, you were bleeding into your shoes.” Peter looked squeamish. “You will definitely be wanting a new pair for when you get back on your feet, by the way.”

Happy groaned. “Dammit.”

Peter panicked. “What’s wrong?! What hurts?”

He tossed his head back and forth. “No’ hurts, jus’ brok‘m in.”

Peter chuckled, “We’ll google some tricks to short cut that for you next time, okay?”

Happy inhaled deep. He was feeling a little more disconnected than before. “m’kay.” He closed his eyes, just to rest them.

The world existed in bursts beyond that point.

Fury standing over him while SHIELD medics worked on him, looking worried in a way Fury never looks... being wheeled into an operating room... and beeping... and alarms... and then heat and fire and ice and water... Tony with his one arm... and May with her laugh... and Peter with everything else... and Tony... and May... May... always May...

And then, on the evening of the fourth day, he came to.

He saw them all, tucked in and resting on couches and chairs. They looked exhausted... so he figured he’d let them rest.

And Happy decided to join them.  

 @febuwhump

[waveridden]

FIC: on sleepless roads the sleepless go

MI, 2.1k. Takes place post-MI3. Lindsey & Ethan, with background Ethan/Julia. Written for the prompt “au: supernatural” on my Trope Bingo card. Content warning for canonical character death.

read on ao3 || title lyric || trope bingo

This is what Lindsey Farris remembers before she dies.

She remembers how much it hurts. It’s like a splitting headache, with emphasis on the splitting: there’s something inside her brain radiating outward, jagged spikes pulsing at random, pushing outward and never pulling back. The stabs are like needles, then bullets, then knives. It’s like nothing she’s ever felt before and it keeps going, and going, and going.

She remembers Ethan’s hands hovering near her. She’s aware of the other agents, two she’s never met and then Stickell piloting. There’s something about a defibrillator and she’s trying to listen, she’s been trained to pay attention even when she’s hurting, but the training never hurt like this. It was never inside her, lighting her brain on fire.

She knows that she has done what she can. She tried to warn Ethan about Brassel, she tried to stop Davian, she tried, she’s trying. She’s trying, and-

The last thing Lindsey knows, with gut-wrenching certainty, is that she won’t die alone.

  #

  She didn’t want to be a secret agent - what little girl dreams of being a secret agent? She went to school for German, headed up her university’s Jewish student group, took ballet until she was halfway through her twenties. Her father called her Lily and her mother passed down family recipes that had survived improbable odds.

These are the things that she doesn’t talk about at the IMF, because the IMF doesn’t exactly care who you were. They care about how fast you learn, and how convincingly you lie, and how hard you can throw a punch. Lindsey worked for an insurance company in Germany that gets contracted to translate something, and she didn’t find out that she was working for the bad guys until a couple of IMF agents tried to interrogate her about it. She’d given them information, and in exchange they offered her a job.

She’s Agent Farris there, and she’s Ethan Hunt’s prize trainee, and she’s smart, and she’s good. She writes letters to her parents to be delivered upon her death and she keeps going, because that’s what agents do. Nobody at the IMF calls her Lily. She wouldn’t ask them to.

  #

  It still hurts, is the thing. She’s not sure how long it is when she realizes that she can feel the pain again, like the detonator never went off. It’s sharp and screeching through her mind and she doesn’t have a brain or hands to lift to cradle her head but it hurts, it hurts and she tries to take a breath and the pain crystallizes, all at once, and then explodes into nothingness.

“Lindsey,” says Ethan.

She wants to gasp or reach out but she can’t. In fact, she’s not altogether sure that she can breathe.

“Lindsey,” Ethan repeats, “look around.”

She looks around. She’s in a hotel room - not American, judging by the decoration and the view and the writing she can see. Chinese, then. Nice, high-end, very expensive. It’s dark out, the kind of dark that could mean the sun went down forty minutes ago or that it’s twenty minutes away from coming back up. Ethan isn’t alone in the hotel bed, but the woman he’s with is asleep.

Lindsey looks back at Ethan, who meets her eyes calmly. Eyes. Does she have eyes? She opens her mouth to ask and supposes that means she must have a mouth now. “What’s happening?”

“You died,” Ethan says. It’s not unkind, but it’s certainly not gentle. Lindsey tries to take a step back and realizes that she can’t feel the ground beneath her. “The detonator in your head went off.”

“Oh,” Lindsey says. The wind rushes deafeningly past the room. “How long ago?”

“A few days.”

“So I’m… a ghost.”

Ethan grimaces. “Yeah.”

“And you can talk to me.”

“It won’t last long,” he says sympathetically. “You’re going to be gone soon.”

A chill goes up and down Lindsey’s… not spine, probably, but whatever the closest thing a ghost has is. “Gone?”

“I don’t know where.”

“How long have you been able to do this?”

“As long as I can remember, but not consistently.” He pauses. “Not everyone becomes a ghost.”

Lindsey closes her eyes for a second. She knows the urban legend that is Agent Hunt in Prague. She knows that his whole team died. She knows that that kind of casualty isn’t unusual, in their line of work. “This happens to you a lot.”

“Yes,” Ethan says, barely above a whisper. The woman in bed with him shifts, and one of his hands gravitates towards her shoulder and begins rubbing circles in, slow and gentle. She murmurs something that sounds like sleep nonsense, and the vaguest smile darts across Ethan’s lips for a second before he focuses back on Lindsey. “You’ll probably be gone within a few minutes. Maybe half an hour, at most.”

“Who is she?” Lindsey asks, before she can help herself. She worked with Ethan for months in training, everyone did, and he’d been as tight-lipped about his personal life as any agent. The most that she’d gotten out of him was that he liked rock-climbing for fun, and that he was born in Wisconsin. He’d never mentioned anything about a girlfriend, let alone the wedding rings sitting together on the nightstand.

Ethan tugs the woman closer to him, almost reflexively. “Julia. My wife.”

She lets herself move - float? walk? - closer towards Ethan. “How long have you been married?”

“Couple of days.” Ethan smiles down at Julia, actually smiles, and Lindsey wants to smile back, but she can’t tear her eyes away from the sleeping woman. She has cuts on her face and she looks not just asleep but unconscious, like she couldn’t wake up even if she wanted to. “It was a spur of the moment thing.”

“Congratulations,” Lindsey says, even though it feels wrong, somehow. It’s too awkward in her mouth, too big, not right for this moment. “Ethan?”

He looks back at her, and she can see how tired he looks now. She wonders why he’s not sleeping. Maybe it’s because of her. Maybe it’s because of his wife. “Yeah, Lindsey?”

“You know it’s not your fault that I died, right?”

“I know,” Ethan says swiftly. It’d be good if she couldn’t tell how long he’d practiced it. Maybe he didn’t practice it for her sake - if the picture of events she has in her head is right, he probably hasn’t had much time to sit around and perfect a lie - but it’s still not genuine. Not quite.

“You signed off on putting me in the field because I’m competent,” Lindsey reminds him. She wants to sit on the bed, maybe put her hand over his, but she’s not sure she can touch him. She’s not sure if he can see a physical body or just a hovering shimmer in the air, or maybe something in between. “And I am competent. Was competent.”

“You were.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Ethan sighs and tips his head back against the headboard to his bed. “It’s not,” he says, “but it’s also going to feel like it, for a little while.”

“You tried to save me.”

“You tried to warn me. It wasn’t Brassel, by the way, it was Musgrave framing him.”

“Damn,” Lindsey mutters.

Ethan shrugs. “I thought it was Brassel too. You would’ve figured it out, if-”

“If I hadn’t died doing my job,” Lindsey says quietly. “Which I signed on for intentionally, as an adult, and sought out and knew the risks of.”

Ethan’s lips quirk into a smile. “You really want to take responsibility for this, huh?”

“I didn’t die alone,” she says before she can stop herself. Ethan’s brows draw together, but she forces herself to keep going. “That’s more than a lot of agents get, and we both know it. I thought that Davian was going to kill me and I was going to die alone in that compound, and instead I died with you, and with other agents. The least you can do is let me accept responsibility for being there in the first place.”

Ethan settles back in his bed. His hand is still making small, slow circles against Julia’s shoulders. He looks less like an agent than Lindsey has ever seen. Just like a man who’s had a hell of a past few days.

“Do you have anything you want me to do?” he asks, after a couple of minutes of quiet. Lindsey starts, and he clarifies, “People you want me to say goodbye to.”

“I wrote the standard-”

“Yeah, everyone writes the standard goodbye letters.” Ethan shrugs. “Dear Mom and Dad, I started feeling sick during my job abroad that I’m nice and vague about, and I’m worried I’m not getting better, and I want to say goodbye. What do your parents think you do, anyways?”

“An actuary in Germany,” Lindsey answers. Her throat feels dry. “The IMF is going to redact those letters.”

“Yeah, they are.”

“I have two more stored in a safety deposit box in DC, ones that tell them the truth. But you don’t need to do anything about those. Agent Wilson from NEST is going to send them.”

“Wilson,” Ethan repeats. “Kennedy Wilson? I didn’t realize you two were close.”

“Yeah. She was…” Lindsey feels her gaze drifting towards Ethan’s sleeping wife, can’t help it. “She has a letter of her own waiting for her.”

Ethan, graciously, doesn’t ask any more questions. Lindsey’s not sure she could answer questions right now. “Do you have any other unfinished business?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You can stay here, if you’d like.”

Lindsey goes to nod, then pauses. “What do I look like to you right now?”

Ethan’s eyes narrow in consideration, scanning her body up and down. “I can tell it’s you,” he says at last, “but it doesn’t look like you’re just standing in front of me. You have a body, but it’s not your body.”

“And I’ll be gone soon.” She can feel it, although she’s not sure exactly what she can feel. It’s almost like she can feel herself trailing away like smoke. Like her fingertips have crumbled to ash and she’s sure her wrists will follow soon. “Tell Kenz I’m sorry. She’ll already know, she might not want to talk to you, but she’ll need to hear it out loud.”

“I’ll tell her,” Ethan says. He’s not rubbing circles into Julia’s shoulder anymore. Instead he’s staring at Lindsey intently - or maybe he’s staring through her. “I promise.”

But now it’s like the floodgates are open, and she can’t stop. “You don’t have to go to my funeral, my real one with my parents, but she probably will, and she might need someone to go with. But they’ll probably make you go to the IMF one, and you can tell whatever stories you want about me, but I want you to know that I’m fluent in German, and that Kennedy is allowed to tell that story about my bat mitzvah, if she wants to. And she’s probably going to try and sit shiva, but she won’t tell anyone, so you can tell the other trainees from my class to do it with her, because they’ll do it, we made a pact about it. And my dad called me Lily, when I was a kid, and it was embarrassing, but I want people to know. I want them to remember me, not just Agent Farris.”

“They will,” Ethan says. He looks devastated but poised, like a statue with cracks across a base that just won’t crumble. “You will be remembered, Lindsey. Not as a sacrifice, but as a person.”

“Okay,” Lindsey says. The absence has crept from fingers and toes up to elbows and knees, and she can feel herself dissolving, or fading, or whatever the right abstract word is for ceasing to exist. “And I want you to know that I could’ve become an agent without you training me, and pushing me, and backing me every step of the way. But I’m glad that I didn’t have to.”

“I’m proud of you, Lindsey.” Ethan takes a deep breath and she almost doesn’t hear the way it catches in his chest. “You made me so proud.”

“I’m afraid,” she says, because there’s nothing else to say.

Ethan smiles and Lindsey wants to cry at the sight of it. “I know.”

“I’m afraid,” she says again, “but I’m not.” It’s moving faster now and it doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t hurt and she’s going to be gone soon.

There is one tear on Ethan’s cheek. He doesn’t make a sound but he watches her, without blinking. It’s the last thing she knows: Ethan Hunt’s eyes on her, through her, watching her with a silent, steady respect. It’s the last thing she knows, and then -

-- and then-