#nobody can convince me Danny would not do this

[tanglepelt]

Dp x dc idea 36

John summons the ghost king Danny. Needs helps makes a deal offering his soul. Danny being the troll he is accepts. He would of helped regardless of the deal. Instead of johns soul. He steals johns shoe. Just rips the sole out of the shoe and vanishes.

[formulaforza]

—everywhere, everything

keep my hand in yours ('til our fingers decompose) pairing: daniel ricciardo x female reader warnings: parent death, angst, language, driving under the influence, underage smoking/drinking love, mackie... 6.6k. part two of this guy (but I think can be read stand-alone). I hope I make u all sad enough that you never ask me for a part two ever again <3

I hear you’re snooping around the old stomping grounds. I’d love to be there when you do it. Bring your dad if he’s free. It’ll be a good night, lots of strawberry wine—the real shit this time. All love, (always your) Danny.

— —

Danny is notably absent from your mom’s funeral. Granted, he is in Budapest at the time, and he had two races this weekend. You know this because you still keep tabs on him, even if he’s not yours to keep tabs on anymore, even if there’s nobody to blame for that but yourself. 

If you didn’t know better, hadn’t spotted Grace, Joe and Michelle a dozen or so people back in line to greet you and your dad, you would have been able to convince yourself Danny didn’t have a clue your mom was even sick. She went quick, less than eight months from her death sentence to… well. From death sentence to death. 

Two hundred and thirty-one days since her diagnosis means two-hundred and twenty-eight days since you broke things off with Danny. So even if he was in town, you probably wouldn’t have seen him. You wish you would have though, that he would have appeared in the plethora of grieving faces. Not for you, but for her. She always loved him, even before you did. 

Grace’s arms feel like the light at the end of a dark tunnel when she finally gets to the front of the line. She squeezes you tight, the only way a mother knows how to, and you cry in her arms. Grace doesn’t tell you how sorry she is, or that your mom loved you so much, or that she’s in a better place now. She just hugs you and wipes away your tears. 

“Danny wishes he could be here,” she tells you, but you don’t want to think about him and you don’t want to believe her. 

“Tell him I said ‘thank you?’” you say, a forced smile on your face. It’s got to be the hundredth of the afternoon. If there’s one thing your mom is—was. If there’s one thing she was, it’s loved. Tell him I hate him, is what you wish you could say to Grace. Or maybe tell him I love him. 

A million and two hugs later and you find yourself missing his arms more than you should. He was always a good hugger, and you could use a good hug right now. 

— —

You showed up at the property fifteen minutes after the event started. You’d hoped to slip in and out, to at least be able to say you went, that you tried. You had no intention of trying to find Daniel, and you figured it would be easy to avoid him, especially if you showed up after everyone else did—it’s his show, he’s the man of the hour, everyone will be fighting for his attention. 

You don’t even know why you came, really. Maybe it’s to figure out how the hell Daniel even got your address to send the invite in the first place. You’d moved half a dozen times since he last knew you. Or maybe it’s that you don’t believe, even after seeing it with your own eyes, that somebody actually had success with growing berries in the heat. It could be that you just… It could be simple, that you miss your Mom, and that everything about that place reminds you of her. 

Whatever the reason, you put on a long, flowing sundress, tied your hair back, and slipped on a pair of comfortable sneakers and a denim jacket. You didn’t even bother to tell your Dad—knew he’d want to catch up with Daniel, or maybe want to strangle Daniel. You didn’t want to give him the chance to do either. You park on the dirt road that leads to the vineyard, because the parking lot is overflowing, a pattern you’re beginning to notice since he’d taken over. 

The place looks the same as it did last time you were here. DR3 Wines still adorn the fleet of ATVs out front, and the wooden letters on the perfectly red barn are still perfectly white. You give your name to the woman working the door, regret it as soon as you catch her announcing your presence over the radio-headset she wears. 

Momentarily, you consider turning around and walking right back to your car. But, you aren’t one to waste a good outfit, not if you’d gotten all dolled up like this, so you walk into the Barn with your head down. 

It smells the same inside; wood, lavender, citronella and alcohol. There’s candles burning to make it feel cozy, but they do a poor job at changing the aroma in the air. The walls are still hung with photos, and the counter is still that slab of wood. It’s exactly the same as it was a few months ago, and manages to remind you of the place you grew up without wearing your childhood memories like a costume. 

Daniel has always been easy to find in a room. He’s loud, his voice and his laugh vibrate off the walls of whatever room he’s in. He’s loud and he’s confident and sometimes it feels like he’s the only person in a room that’s really alive. That’s how it felt then, at least. 

It’s been thirteen years since you last shared a space with him, but the fact you can hear his laugh on the other side of the crowded room assures you that while everything has changed, some things have stayed exactly the same. 

You can’t see him, but man can you hear him. 

You sign the guest book—proof, in case anybody asks. Proof that you did show up. It’s the top of a wine barrel, DR3 2023 branded into the oak—two tops, because so many people are here. It’s covered in signatures and messages from people he loves. You feel guilty even signing it, but you do. 

Congrats Dan—your marker pauses. You scoff at yourself. Congrats Daniel. Time flies, 13 years! The place looks beautiful. Wishing you continued success, you write, finishing it off with your signature. 

He still wears the same cologne, you realize, when you look up and he’s leaning against the table watching you write. He wears the same cologne, and the same smile, even if less crooked. Everything else about him is different. His hair is shorter, eyes older. His arms are covered in art, face is all together thinner, and his five o’clock shadow is less of a pipe dream and more of a full-fledged beard. He’s taller, maybe. Or you’re shorter. It doesn’t really matter, you suppose. 

You purse your lips into a curt smile. He matches—you didn’t even know he could smile like that. “Hi, honey,” he says, leaning over to read your message. 

“Hi.” “Who’s Daniel?” He teases, the smile on his face growing into one you’re much more familiar with. You look back at your writing, but you don’t laugh. If anything, you’re sure you look a little scared. “I’m teasing.”

“I know,” you nod.

“Okay,” he nods right back, slow, apprehensive over your apprehension. 

“Sorry,” you force out a chuckle. “I’m being so weird,” and you adjust the strap on your dress. He shoves his hands in his pocket, rocks back and forth on the sole of his shoes. Do you know how weird it is to be face to face with someone you were head over feet in love with? It’s really fucking weird. You put your best smile on your face, “Hi, sorry,” you continue, opening your arms for what you think might be the most awkward hug you’ve ever given. 

He’s quick to pull his hands back out of his pocket, like he’s worried if he doesn’t act fast enough you’re going to rescind the offer. 

His touch is uncanny; familiar and comforting and unsettling. It melts the years away and you feel just like you did some twelve years ago when you wished so desperately for one of his hugs. You’re nineteen again, and he’s twenty, and everything feels like it’s going to be okay. 

“How are you,” he asks quietly, his arms tight around you. “You look great.”

“I’m okay,” you say over his shoulder, and then again, as if you’re trying to convince yourself: “I’m okay. How are you?”

“Oh, y’know,” he shrugs, pulling away from the hug, gesturing your question away. “Same old, same old.”

“Yeah,” you nod, even though you don’t know. Even though it’s been eleven years since you forced yourself to ignore his existence, since you last kept any sort of tab on him. You can’t get over how different he looks. How you’d still recognize him without a second glance. “You look different.”

He laughs, looks down at himself. At his arms, his hands. He can’t look at his face, but it’s different, too. “Yeah, I guess so, huh?” He keeps looking back at you every time he laughs. He makes sure you’re laughing, or smiling at least, before he lets his slip. “Is your Dad here?”

“No. He uh, he wasn’t feeling well.”

Once upon a time, Daniel could spot your lies from the other side of the vineyard. You get stiff and stuttery, he told you, it’s easy when you know what you’re looking for. That was once upon a time, though, and this is now. Now, you don’t know if Daniel remembers any of those little things about you. 

His eyes go momentarily soft, worried, almost. “Just a cold, yeah?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, can I get you a drink? Give you a tour?”

You look around the place—not much to tour. Not when it used to be yours, not when one of his teenaged employees gave you a tour a few months back. He seems so excited about the idea, though, so you go along with it. “Sure. Yeah, that’d be nice.”

“Nice, awesome,” he says, looking around the place like he forgot where everything is. He claps his hands together, pulls them apart into a snap, and points at you with both hands. “Stay here? I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” you chuckle, and it’s genuine. “Staying here.”

“I know you, Bee,” he says, walking backwards away from you. B. He totally knows you’re full of shit about your Dad having a cold. “Don’t try to sneak out while I’m gone.”

“I won’t.”

“You promise?”

You nod. “I promise.”

— —

You, Daniel, and your Mom worked the closing shift that night. When he was around, that’s almost always how it went, because the two of you were the only ones who’d worked there long enough to know how to properly close up without a babysitter. 

Your Mom worked tediously in the office counting all the money—she was the slower counter of your parents, but it wasn’t like anyone was ever sitting around waiting on her. There was always something to be done, and Daniel was always good at making sure those closing tasks took up more than a chunk of the evening. 

You’d cleaned inside, swept the floors and vacuumed the rugs and cleaned the tables and the counters. You washed glasses behind the bar and restocked displays. The landline on the counter rang while you were writing up the day’s inventory, and you almost didn’t answer it, but your parents had told you to improve on your customer-service skills, even when you or the customer weren’t on site. 

To your surprise, the voice on the other end was Daniel’s. He was calling from the cellar, is too lazy to come over there to get shot down. “Is your Mom finished counting?” He asked, and you pulled the phone away from your ear to try and listen past the office door. 

“I think so,” you say, bringing the phone back to your ear. “We should be heading out soon.”

Sometimes you feel like you can hear Danny’s smile. “You wanna do the lock check with me?”

You slot the phone between your shoulder and your ear, returning your hands to the task of finishing up your paperwork for the night. You needed to be done when he got here, or there was no chance your Mom let you go with him. “How do you know I’m done with my shit?”

You can hear the lull of the old beat up golf-cart engine in the background, can almost feel the vibrations, can see clear as day Danny sitting there, lounging on the leather seat—tanned skin, unruly hair, toothy grin. “You always finish fast so you can daydream about your boyfriend,” he says, turning the last word into his own little sing-songy ballad. 

Your pen pauses on the paper, and you roll your eyes. “Jake isn’t my boyfriend.”

Danny laughs, and you roll your eyes again, pretend like you aren’t smiling. “Oh? But you knew who I was talking about!”

“Because you never shut up about him being into me.”

“Because he is!”

You set the pen down for good, now, grab the phone again because you want to make sure your next words come across loud and clear, even if it is the millionth time you’ve told him. “He’s my friend, Danny!”

“Oh, come on!” His laugh intensifies. “I don’t think a guy has ever been just friends with you.”

“You’re my friend, aren’t you?”

His laughter quells, and you’re sure he’s picking on the plastic of the steering wheel. There are so many scrapes on it from the same thing. He’s always picking at it, ever since you told him to give his poor nails a rest. He has to destroy something, you suppose—teenage boy and all—but you prefer a destroyed golf cart steering wheel to a destroyed Danny, so you let it slide. He sighs, and then he clears his throat, and the memory of your question dies in the silence. “Are you coming with me or not?”

“Are you coming to get me?”

— —

The air is chilly—nippy almost, especially with the sun dipping below the horizon like it is. You’re walking stride for stride with Daniel over the gravel path to the cellar, glass of sweet pink wine in your hand. He’s taking you to the strawberry field, per your request, because even after tasting it, even after telling you which field it’s in, you still don’t believe him.

“So,” he asks, one hand deep in his pocket, the other hanging in the space between your bodies. He’s very hesitant with you today, you’ve noticed. It’s nothing like the brash boy you called your first love. He’s gentle, softer, like he’s scared of his next words. “Who finally put that ring on your finger?” The threat of a smile is weak, but the idea of it alone is charming. 

You look at your free hand, carefully decorated with several different rings. “Which one?”

He drops his head to his shoulder, gives you a pathetic smile and a matching chuckle. “The only one an ex-boyfriend would ask you about, Bee.”

The sunlight—the little bit that’s left of it—catches the diamond on your ring finger. “Oh,” you shrug, dropping it back to your side. “It’s Mom’s.”

“I know,” he nods solemnly, and your head shoots over to look at him. You don’t know why he would remember that. “Who put it there, though?”

A smile pulls on your lips, and you bury it in the lip of your wine glass. “I’m not engaged, if that’s what you’re asking,” you laugh. “I just wear it… I don’t know, it makes me feel close to her.”

Sunsets at the property have always been gorgeous. When you were younger, you thought that maybe it was the most beautiful place in the entire world. The blues and the pinks and the yellows all mix together into some grand watercolor and tonight is no exception. 

The silence that lingers in the air should be awkward, but it’s not. It should be harder to be here, to watch the sunset, to walk the paths you have memorized, to stand next to Daniel after all these years. It’s not hard, though. It’s comfortable, like it was when you were sixteen and seventeen and eighteen and barely nineteen. Like it was all the time you knew him, even before you loved him. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally speaks. “She was really cool.”

You chuckle softly. It’s a familiar routine, consoling those attempting to console you about her death. “That’s what everyone says,” you say, even though Daniel might be the first person to posthumously describe your mom as cool. Lovely, you’d gotten more times than you could count. Beautiful and kind and oh honey, she loved you so much, you knew already. She was really cool, that’s a Danny-original if you’ve ever heard one. 

“I should have been at the funeral.”

“It’s okay,” you nod, because his presence wouldn’t have changed that your Mom was lovely and beautiful and kind and that she wasn’t around to be any of those things anymore. There wasn’t anything Daniel could have done to remedy that reality. “You were busy. We weren’t together,” and before he can come back with something, insists that it’s a bigger deal some decade later than it was, you change the subject. “What about you, though? Putting rings on anyone’s fingers these days?”

He laughs. A person can only get poetic about Daniel’s laugh so many times before it’s easier to just leave it at that. He laughs, everyone around him lights up, and he laughs some more. “Believe it or not, my work-life balance isn’t super great at fostering long-term relationships.”

You don’t exactly know what Daniel’s work-life balance looks like. The last time you paid any attention, he was racing with Toro Rosso. Every update you’d heard since had been one you weren’t looking for—commercials and posters and billboards and word-of-mouth; more than a couple ex-boyfriends and a few stray friends. 

You never cared much about racing. It was Daniel you cared about. 

There aren't a lot of specifics you remember about Daniel’s schedule, but you remember that he was almost always coming or going. There wasn’t much staying, and that was before he’d even made it to the big show. “You mean, women like it when their partners are around for most of the year?”

“They do, yeah,” he nods, dimples digging into his cheeks. “Crazy, right?”

“Crazy.”

— — 

Danny didn’t go down without a fight. He caught what had to have been the first flight home—home, you’re not sure that he can call Perth home now that he doesn’t live here. He caught the first flight to you, threw wood chips at your window at three-in-the morning. He didn’t need to wake you up, it’s been two weeks since you had any kind of meaningful sleep. You spend the majority of your time in bed looking at the ceiling fan spin or staining the sheets with your tears. 

You let him throw mulch for twenty minutes though, hoping that maybe he’ll give up and leave so you don’t have to face him. 

You’d done the breaking up over the phone for a reason. It wasn’t that you couldn’t wait until whenever he was home next. You could. It was that you couldn’t break up with him while looking him in the eyes, and you knew it. 

Eventually, though, you pull your pajama-clad frame out from under the warm covers, drag your feet the entire way to the window, pulling the curtains open just enough to confirm what you already knew—that it was him in the driveway. His entire face relaxes when he sees you there, forcing the window open. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“What the fuck am I doing?” He scoffs. “What the fuck are you doing?”

You cross your arms over your chest. The night air is cold and your pajamas are scarce. “I’m trying to sleep.”

He rolls his eyes, always dramatic, always over-the-top. “Come down here, honey.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

You stand there in silence, shivering in your bedroom window. He stands there in silence, thick jacket on and a handful of wood chips from the garden in your driveway. It’s a stalemate, and you don’t know which of you is more exhausted. Appearance points to him, but you dread that fact that you’re standing, that you’re tired enough to give up the fight this quick. 

“Fine,” you relent, and it’s less than two minutes before you’re running into him on the back porch, slowly closing the sliding patio door behind you so as to not alert anyone else in the house of his presence. “What do you want?”

“Where are your clothes?” He asks, and is already taking his coat off to wrap around your frame. You huff and puff the entire time he’s doing it, because your lack of clothing was a choice—you were hopeful that he wouldn’t keep you long if you were shivering. 

“What do you want, D?”

“I want you to talk to me,” he says. “Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it.”

Your lip trembles, and you bite down on it to try and stop it, chew on the skin until you taste copper and then it still trembles. You don’t look at him, you can’t. “You can’t fix it.”

“No, no,” he argues, grabbing your elbow in a plea, stepping closer to you, speaking hardly above a whisper. “Just tell me, baby.”

You yank your arm away, tone a direct contrast to his when you insist: “You can’t fix it this time, okay!? Nobody can fix it.” You point an accusatory finger, like there’s actually something he’s done to deserve this. There isn’t, there never will be. “You can’t fucking fix everything just because you want to.”

He matches, points his finger at you, presses it into the middle of your chest. Your heart races. “You can’t just fucking break up with me because you want to.”

You swat his hand away, offended by the accusation that you wanted this, that any part of you is enjoying this, finding relief in this. You hate this. Fucking loathe it, but it doesn’t change any of the facts. “I don’t want to,” your lips downturn into a frown, all pathetic and trembled, and your voice cracks and shakes half as much as your lips. The tears that burn in your eyes are reflected back in his, tired and bloodshot and wet. 

“Then don’t do it,” he pleads. 

You gulp around the lump in your throat, voice leaving your body meekly through tears. “I have to.”

“No, you don’t,” he assures you quickly, his hands slotting on either side of your face, the pads of his thumbs wiping your tears, his fingers locking into the hair at the nape of your neck. He shakes his head before he speaks, brown eyes searching yours, begging you to change your mind. “You don’t.”

His hands on your face are what push you over the edge, turn you from poised and sniffly to half-wrecked—choking on sobs and swallowing snot. It all hits you at once, all the weeks of testing, the days of trying to come to terms with a diagnosis, the hours spent grappling with the fact that nothing will ever be the same about you. You’re changed, now, and you’re only going to continue to change. It’s not Daniel’s responsibility to see you through any of this fucking shit.  “I do, I do,” you sob. “I have to, I’m so sorry, I have to.”

He presses his forehead against yours, your tears mixing with his every time your noses bump. It calms you, if only slightly, and your eyes close, mind focused on remembering this, on remembering what it feels like to have his skin on yours, to feel his voice in your bones, to breathe in the same air, the same space, the same atoms. 

Your breath is shaky, but the pattern is steady. In, out. In, out. Your nose is so stuffed you can’t breathe through it. Your lips are all but touching his, a stray tremble holding the power to force them together. You don’t know if you want to kiss him or not, if it would make things better or so much worse. 

He swallows hard, pulling your faces apart. “I love you,” he mutters softly, like a wounded animal, and then he presses a long, hard kiss into your forehead. 

You sniffle, your hands holding onto his wrists. “I’m sorry.”

He nods, drops his arms, your hands falling into his. “Yeah.”

He lets your hands go, lets you go. You feel like you might be sick watching him walk down the steps of the patio, along the path of pavers to the gate. A shiver runs up your spine, and you pull his jacket closed over your chest. His jacket. 

You wipe a new set of tears from your cheek with the back of your hand. “Your jacket,” you sniffle, “hold on.”

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even turn back to face you. “Keep it,” he says, unlatching the gate and slipping through to the other side. You sigh, and then you cough, and then you cry some more before finally finding the ability to move again, to go back inside and up to your bedroom, and that was that. That was the last time you saw Danny. The last moment that he was yours. 

— —

You’re walking back from the unbelievable strawberry field, quickly approaching the still lively barn, people and smiles and conversations pouring out into the adjacent spaces. Someone appears in front of you with a camera, with two cameras—one professional, and one a cheap polaroid. Smile, they said, and you laughed, your cheeks burning red. 

Daniel slinks his arm over your shoulder, and you step closer to his side. He flashes a toothy grin and a shaka sign to the camera. You hear the shutter of the camera take a dozen photos, and then the photographer holds up the polaroid—one for the road, she says, and Daniel pulls you that little bit closer, you blush that little bit harder. 

There’s a flash, and then you both relax, the photo printing out of the bottom of the camera. She holds it out Daniel, but he nudges you with his elbow to take it. You do, even though you aren’t sure you want it. 

You shake the polaroid while the two of you make your way into the barn. “What do I do with this?” You ask, looking carefully at the developed print. 

Daniel shrugs, leaning over. You flip the photo in his direction so he doesn’t have to lean as far, but he still does. “It’s cute,” he says. “You don’t want it?”

“I mean, I’ll take it, but…” But. But I’m going to throw it away when I get home. But it only reminds me of you. But it only represents what won’t be. 

He looks to the wall of photos behind the counter, eyeing the display carefully. You follow his sight line, your eyes going to the exact place you remember the photos of you being. You don’t know why you’re surprised that they’re still there, like you knowing they exist means they’d vanish. “Hang it up,” he says. 

You laugh. “Where?”

Daniel shrugs. “Anywhere you want.”

— —

The best part about only being able to afford cheap workers, was that you spent every day at the property with a new teenager looking to have just as much fun as you were. Between that, and the plethora of college kids that were constantly leaving to go back to school, to get a grown-up job, to get any job that paid more than your family could offer—there was always an opportunity for going away parties. And party, you did. 

You and your coworkers turned friends had slept down by the river more summer nights than you could count, hiding six-packs in the staff locker-room and hiding ziploc bags of joints behind the six-packs. 

Tonight, the going-away party is to honor someone whose face you won’t remember in a year, much less thirteen. He’d worked there for the holidays and not much more, and there wasn’t much memorable about him. 

The bonfire on the back of the property snaps and crackles, sparking off into the night and lights everyone in flickers of orange and yellow. The breeze has picked up after dark, and the tank-top and shorts you’d donned earlier in the day aren’t appropriate any more, one of Danny’s hoodies—a purple one that sits in his locker just for you to steal and smells like weed and wood from all the past nights just like this one—takes the chill out of the night and keeps the goosebumps off your exposed legs. 

The sky is clear and cloudless, a big moon staring back at you and a million shining stars fill the night sky. It’s times like these you think there’s no prettier place on Earth, nights like these where you feel completely rich. 

Two joints are being passed around the circle lazily, laughter and conversation filling the air. The first one comes your way from the left, from Daniel. He takes a long hit, the embers at the end of the paper burning orange with his inhale. He holds it in, nodding his way through someone else’s joke, and exhaling into a laugh. 

He looks at you, hesitates to hand it over. “I really don’t want a lecture from your parents tomorrow morning,” he teases, playful smile pulling on his lips, mischievous glint in his eye. 

You roll your eyes. “They won’t know,” you insist, to no avail. Daniel chuckles, but holds his resolve and passes the joint around you to the next person. 

Undeterred, you keep your eyes on the joint that moves clockwise, that comes to you from the other direction, a path with no Danny-sized roadblock. With practiced ease, you take a hit, exhaling slowly, savoring the warmth in your chest. You meet Danny’s eyes on exhale, find them half-amused and half-concerned, brows raised and smile drawn. 

“Whatcha got there?” He laughs, gently taking the joint from her. “I told you not to,” he continues, taking a hit himself before passing it along again. You grin, a wave of giddiness washing over you. It always goes like that when he laughs—makes you all warm and fuzzy and silly. 

“It’ll be okay, Danny-boy,” you laugh, leaning against him. Lazily, without hesitation, he tosses his arm over your shoulder and pulls you that much closer. You like being closer, can feel his laugh instead of just hearing it. You like the way his arm rests on your shoulder, the way his fingers trace patterns over the fabric of his sweatshirt, every touch echoing on your skin for minutes. You like being close, even if it makes your palms a little sweatier and your heartbeat a little faster. You could get used to being closer, you think. 

The fire is starting to die out now, and the air gets colder. You wonder how long your parents waited up for you to get home. The original excuse was that Daniel had forgotten the lock-check, that you wanted to come along and really, it’s no problem to drive her home. After about fifteen minutes, you’d snuck away from the newly-built fire to make a phone call, to let them know you were grabbing food on the way home and don’t wait up for me. You’re sure they did, though, even if only for a while longer. 

Anyway, the air is colder and the joints have been smoked through and the beers have been drunk—not by you, you’re too messy when you’re crossed. And not by Daniel, either, who refuses to drive drunk but insists on driving high. 

You yawn under Daniel’s arm, find a way to somehow lean in closer. “Sleepy?” he asks, and you nod. Carefully, like he’s done it a million times before, he presses a kiss into the crown of your head. It’s not the millionth time, it’s not even the second time he’s kissed any part of you. It’s the first time you've felt the press of his lips and you think that you’ll feel it there forever. “You wanna go?”

“No,” you say. “I’ll stay, make sure the fire gets out and everything.”

It’s not much longer, anyway, until the fire is being doused with water bottles and beer and everyone is taking turns spraying the same perfumes and colognes over their clothes in a poor attempt to mask the smell of smoke and weed. 

Daniel drives you home. It’s not the first time you’ve been the passenger in his old Ford Bronco. It’s not even the first time you’ve been in the truck while he was high. Usually, car rides with Danny consist of cranked down windows and loud music, of louder conversations and excessive laughter. This drive is quiet, though. 

His hands are steady on the wheel, eyes focused on the road ahead. There’s no music, the windows are up, and he doesn’t talk. You watch him carefully from the passenger seat, study him in your paranoia. You haven’t done anything, you don’t think. There’s no reason for him to be mad at you. Unless there is. 

“Did you have a good time?” You ask. Danny nods. “That’s good.”

He turns to face you at a stop sign. “Sorry,” he laughs. “I’m trying to focus.”

“It’s okay,” you nod. 

“It’s harder,” he explains. “It’s hard with you here.”

— — 

The evening you’d anticipated is far from the evening that unfolds. Fifteen minutes, maximum, in and out. That was the plan. But then Daniel—Daniel, and all the far-fetched dreams of him making himself at home in your life, all the passing thoughts you’d had over the years about the what-ifs; the grocery bills and the taxes and the white wine and the rusty barn doors. He glues you to his side for hours that feel like minutes. 

The event is winding down, people keep coming up to him, firm pats on the back and handshakes and hugs goodbye. They tell him how great the place is, how great the wine is, how great he is, and you move around like his shadow, smiling awkwardly whenever someone catches your eye and waiting for the next joke Daniel has to crack quietly, just to you.

You stand at a high-table next to him, elbows on the tabletop, shoulders bumping everytime one of you moves. There were people around the table, a reason—an excuse—for the proximity, but they’re long gone now.  “You know,” Daniel says quietly, dropping his head against his hands, speaking to nobody in the room but you. “I’ve missed you a lot.”

“Yeah,” you nod, speak just as softly. “Me too.”

He takes a long drink from the wine glass in front of him. Liquid courage, you know now, for what he was going to do next. The glass returns to the tablecloth with a soft pat, and he lets out a heavy exhale. “I heard there’s a new coffee place opening in Northbridge?” He asks, and you assume it’s because he knows your neighborhood, wants to know more about it. The wine has made you naive, or maybe you’d just pushed the reality of his implication so far from your mind that it’s an impossible thought. 

“Yeah,” you nod. The new coffee shop in Northbridge is a seven minute walk from your apartment, and is on your way to work. You’ve been eyeing the place since the empty building went up for lease. “It’s got this super cute bakery right next door,” you add. “I think they opened last week.”

Daniel nods. “I’d love to try it out.”

“Yeah,” you continue, still genuine and naive and oh-so silly. “You should. I’ve heard good things.”

He laughs, then. Laughs this specific kind of Daniel laugh that you used to get so excited to hear. It meant he was going to do something for—or to—you. He’d laughed like that before he kissed you for the first time, and he’d laughed like that while orange juice ran down his arm and he asked you out for the hundredth time. He’d laughed like that on every anniversary, every birthday, every holiday. It’s Danny’s you laugh. “I’d need someone to go with, though,” he says. And the laugh and the words and the whole thing clicks. Daniel is trying to ask you out. “I don’t really know my way around Northbridge.”

A lie, objectively. One that confirms the assumption you’d just jumped to. Daniel’s first apartment was in Northbridge. He lived eleven minutes from where you live now. He knows the place like the back of his own hand, knows the streets like he used to know you. 

You nod into the bottom of your wine glass, watching the liquid spin around the clear glass. “You don’t?”

He purses his lips, looks all deep in thought. “No,” he shakes his head. “No, I don’t think I do.”

“Oh,” you frown, your eyes meeting his. It’s really hard to mess with him when he looks at you like that. Hard, but not impossible. “My dad’s usually around.”

He chuckles. “Your dad, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you nod, a smile pulling impossibly hard on your lips. “Retirement and all, you know.”

“Oh, sure.”

“I guess…” you shrug, stop spinning your glass and set it down altogether. You push it slowly across the tablecloth towards the center. “I could always show you around, too.”

He leans back, stands up straight and scratches his beard, makes a piss-poor attempt at wiping the dimpled smile off his face when he cocks his head to the side and says, “As much as I like your dad…”

“As much as you like my dad.”

And, because Daniel was never really Daniel, because he’s always going to be your Danny, no matter the time or the distance or anything else that should get in the way, he says: “You’ve always been my honeybee.”

— —

“Don’t call me that, Mom,” you shouted from the office, gathering your morning gear. You were working tours with Danny, today, and the two of you had spent all morning bickering over who gets to be lead and who has to be secondary guide. While you shoved the batteries into the walkie-talkies, you could overhear Danny successfully pleading with your Mom. Honeybee, she’d called out to you. Let Danny take Lead today, won’t you? 

She laughs. You roll your eyes, slipping behind the counter where she leans, where Danny lounges on a stool. You toss Danny’s walkie at his chest, and he catches it before it hits him. She raises her brows pointedly, meets Danny’s eyes in some shared language, a shared silent remark about you. “Why not?”

“Because. It sounds like something Grandma would say.”

Your mom smiles, twirls the end of your ponytail around her finger. “But you’re so sweet”

Danny chokes on his laugh, shooting up straight in his seat to clear his throat, to cough into his elbow. “She is NOT sweet.”

You scowl, shove his shoulder gently. It only makes him, and your mom, laugh harder. “Hey!”

“You make my life sweet, baby girl,” she hums. 

Danny nods, falling back into his comfortable spot, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re kinda like a bee,” he says, leaning back even further. Your entire day would be made by him losing his balance and falling flat on his ass. “You make her life sweet but for me…” he pauses. “You’re just this annoying little buzzing I can’t shoo away.”

Silently, you hold up both middle fingers to him, walking backwards out from behind the counter, towards the back door. Your mom only laughs at you, always laughs at you and Danny. “Love you, Bee,” she calls to you, and winks at Danny. 

“Yeah,” he calls, the stool creaking underneath him as he properly stands up. “Love ya, Bee!”

[wandixx]

I just realized that there is literally zero fanfics with Danny Fenton/M'gann M'orzz pairing and idk, am I the only one who see nearly endless potential in it?

I don't know how they met but they're probably pretty fast friends.

With Danny being space nerd, he would ask M'gann all the questions about Mars. At the same time, from what little I know about Miss Martian, she is "Earth nerd" and would ask him all the questions about Earth and what normal teenage life is like, because YL team is not the best study case. Like, only Wally and maybe Artemis (I don't know a thing about her other than 'snarky/blunt archer') had normal human life. He is happy to answer, introducing her to his semi normal life before accident.

They exchanged stories about stars from their respective homes.

Just imagine, Danny binge watching "Hello Megan" just to know what she is talking about and it's not his thing, really, but he learnt to enjoy it because he associated it with M'gann (we can have Jazz being fan too and feeling 'betrayed' because she tried to strongarm her brother to watch it for years and all it took was to cute alien girl to mention it and he is pulling all nighters).

Just imagine, M'gann asking one of her teammates (probably Robin) to teach her to play Doomed, so she can play with her halfa friend and his friends and not ask about every controller. They don't really mind her being newbie but sudden progress doesn't go unnoticed or unpraised.

Everlasting trio inviting her to Nasty Burger every once in a while to talk about random, not hero related things.

Rest of the YJ may not even know about Phantom. They just know about this Danny, M'gann's totally civilian friend, who likes milkshakes and video games.

They share their stories and tips about heroing and powers they have similar. Mostly M'gann shares things she learnt from her uncle or in Mountain because let's be honest, self taught is rarely better than someone with proper mentoring. She for sure helps with ghosts if they attack during her visit, even if Danny tries to shield her from it. "I'm supposed to be your civilian friend, am I not?"

She definitely does what she can to help with his hero PR. She may or may not accidentally convinced rest of the Team she has celebrity crush on underappreciated ghost hero from the middle of the nowhere. They help her, spamming all negative news reports with praises for Phantom from both hero and civilian accounts. It caused some mess, Justice League had questions but Danny was happy so it doesn't matter.

If we go with ghost being super emphatic we can have Danny overwhelmed by everyone's feelings (honest hate his parents have towards his hero persona, confliction of towns people, concern of his friends, excitement of Casper students idk, EVERYTHING) and M'gann helps him overcome it. Later both of them being there for eachother when everything was just too much. Y'know just this mutual understanding that nobody else can really give them.

Maybe some communication troubles because M'gann prefers telepathy and Danny does not like it in a slightest (Freakshow flashbacks or something) but tries to accommodate. Or M'gann doesn't even try because idk, one of telepathy rules is "don't read thoughts of dying person unless they project it to you" and she feels it goes for dead (even if only halfway) too.

They're just vibing with eachother.

Then there is ghost attack outside Amity and Team is send to deal with it. M'gann is surprisingly competent at dealing with everything ghost does while evacuating civilians while someone magic competent is called. Suddenly she stops, gets her phone and makes a call:

"Hey Danny, do you have a moment?" whole team is too shocked to react, because in the love of whatever they believe in, why is Megan calling her civilian friend in the middle of the battle with unknown entity. "It's [insert whatever ghost you want] wrecking havoc. Can you come by at take them to the zone? I don't have thermos on me right now. Thank you."

WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?

Que Danny flying top speed to wherever she is, fights a ghost and contains them. Que someone (maybe Wally) being like:

"When did you wanted to tell us that your civilian friend is a hero?"

M'gann honest to god forgot that Team thought Danny was a civilian.

"I worked quite hard to drag her into as little of my Phantom bullshit as I could. I am proud of being a civilian friend, thank you very much"

They all came in contact together after that.

Martian Manhunter tried to give Fenton a shovel talk but boy was too excited to meet his favourite hero and to focused on not making fool of himself to be actually scared or something. He deals with Skulker on a regular basis anyway, there are very few threats that could actually scare him.

Team members also tried to shovel talk him, just in case. They all failed for one reason or another

Or maybe Danny is already YJ member. Everything above can still happen just without ghost attack. Danny can have issues with Zeta Tubes though. That's a good stuff.

There can be a drama of "I'm your friend only because I'm alien/semi normal, am I not?"

Or we can go with space obsessed Danny going full Vlad on cute alien girl. Y'know, because "that's a halfa thing to do". M'gann is not into that. I'm not really excited about this take but that's a possibility too.

Use it as you will. Just please someone write it

[princessfanonanona]

Danny stares at the glowing sticky note sitting innocuously on his notebook.

"Mister Fenton," Lancer says, drawing his attention up, "since you seem to be so studiously staring at your notes, perhaps you know the answer to my question."

Danny blinks.

He looks at the note once more before looking up.

"Is it 42?"

The class erupts in giggles as Lancer sighs. "That may be the answer to life but no that doesn't answer my question. Miss Sanchez, perhaps you know."

Danny tunes out to pick up the green sticky. Glowing blue ink glitters as it moves.

A single hand may lift a stone, but many can move the boulder.

Danny flips the note over, and back.

"What's that?" Tucker whispers, leaning forward on his desk to be closer to Danny.

"Bewildering, I need to visit Grandfather I guess."

"The mysterious one that you never mentioned before the C.A.T.S?" Sam asks.

"Mister Fenton," Lancer walks over. "There is no note passing in my class."

"But I wasn't-"

"Wow Fentina, don't know how you didn't expect to get caught with something that bright," Dash laughs.

"Pass it over," Lancer holds his hands out.

Huffing a sigh, Danny passes it to Lancer.

Or tries to.

The note passes through Lancer's hand.

Lancer blinks.

Danny blinks.

Lancer grabs the note again, fingers passing through.

"Wuthering Heights!" Lancer frowns, trying once more. "I'm losing my touch."

Danny flips the note and wiggles it. The sticky note does not make a noise. It does glow brighter however.

Lancer grabs Danny's wrists to move the note around to see it better.

"...Mister Fenton," he stares at the glittery ink, leaning closer.

"...yes Mr. Lancer?"

"This doesn't look like it's English."

"That's 'cause it's not."

"How the fuck-"

"Language!"

"Does Fentoenail know more languages?" Dash asks.

"I bet it's some made up chicken scratch from one of his nerdy books," Paulina comments.

"This looks like cuneiform," Lancer says.

"Common mistake, it's actually Akkadian," Danny corrects before slapping a hand over his mouth.

"Isn't that that dead city you were complaining about at lunch?" Tucker asks.

"...no?" 

"Convincing," Lancer deadpans. "Will you care to read for the class what your little note says?"

Danny opens his mouth and then closes it. 

The note shimmers in his hand.

"Would you believe me if I said what note?"

"Now Mister Fenton, we can all clearly see…"

Danny opens his hand as the note fades into nothing.

"I don't have a note." Danny gives his best innocent smile.

Lancer and half the class gapes at him.

The bell rings.

Nobody moves.

Danny wiggles his fingers a bit, "Can you let go please?"

"Oh, yes, certainly," Lancer mumbles, stepping away. 

Danny pulls his hand to his chest, grabbing his stuff with his other hand. "So uh, bye?"

Lancer makes no move to stop him as he leaves, Sam and Tucker hot on his heels.

"How did you do that?" Tucker asks, catching his elbow and spinning him to a stop.

"I didn't do anything," Danny puts a hand up in surrender, "It was written on ghost paper so it dissolved on its own."

"I know your parents are wack but ghost paper, really?" Sam arches an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "You said it was from your grandfather."

"Yeah, it is-was, look can we just not do this now?" Danny glances over Sam's shoulder at Dash looking over the crowd. 

Tucker follows his line of sight and starts moving again, hand still on Danny's elbow. 

"Yep, we're moving," he says. "So about the ghost paper-"

"I dunno, they just use it to leave notes on my stuff," Danny says as they duck down a hallway.

"So it's not one of your parents' weird inventions?" Sam asks. 

"No," snort, "Definitely not. If it's not a weapon, they don't want anything to do with it."

"Think he'd be willing to share some with us?" Sam's eyes are bright with an idea. 

Danny looks over his shoulder to her and them ahead to where Tucker is leading them through the halls.

"You know, I think he might." He smiles back, "Are you guys free tonight?"

[roses-r-rosi33]

A tragic love story

Ethan Landry x M!Reader

SPOILERS FOR SCREAM 6!!!

Warnings: Angst and swearing

A/n: This takes place during the ladder scene but with y/n and Ethan. Btw y/n is also Anika’s brother

The day started off normal y/n was relived his classes were over and his sister Anika invited him to hang out with their friend group and watch a movie. When y/n got the invitation he decided to invite his boyfriend Ethan, to come along. Ethan decided to cancel his plans to goto Econ and hang out with y/n because they haven’t really had the time to do anything with each other.

Anika and Quinn both knew about how y/n and Ethan felt about each other and decided to leave them alone at the movie theaters because they had something “important” to do. And that is why y/n and Ethan are where they are today

The movie was pretty boring but it was fun finally being able to together after weeks not being able to see each other. After the movie was done the core4 decided to have their dinner. And Quinn decided to go in her bedroom with her “boyfriend”. Leaving Anika, Ethan, and y/n on the couch watching whatever show Anika put on the TV after the movie.

Suddenly they heard banging and what sounded like groaning. All three of them looked at each other trying not to laugh because of what was happening behind the door. But then then groaning turned into murderous screams. Then all 3 of them and the Core4 got a message from a random number. They all looked at the text message and saw ghostface attacking Quinn.

The core4 rushed into the living room and the screams stopped. Nobody dared to say a word. All of a sudden Mindy tells Anika to Run and that’s when all hell broke loose.

Quinn’s body suddenly fell onto Anika. As Chad and Tara darted for the front door Y/n still couldn’t comprehend what just happened he just witnessed his best friend’s lifeless body right in front of him. All of a sudden Ethan took y/n’s arm trying to drag him to the front door. When they were near inches away from the door y/n heard Anika start screaming and saw ghostface stabbing her and dragging the knife up her body.

Y/n couldn’t just watch his sister die while he did nothing to help her so he took his arm away from Ethan’s hand and ran to save his sister.

Ghostface however felt y/n running towards him and watched as y/n ran into his knife. Ghostface decided to stab y/n into the sides repeatedly as y/n’s screams filled the apartment. Sam took action first and hit ghostface with a knife block. Ethan helped y/n get up and walked him to Quinn’s bedroom as Mindy, Anika, and Sam followed.

Sam locked the door. She told Mindy to barricade the bathroom door while she tried to find a way to escape. When all of a sudden she saw the cute neighbor Danny come out with a ladder to help them cross the apartment.

“I don’t think y/n and Anika can go through that” Ethan said as he was helping y/n with his wound. (btw this is a line from @bricksduhh’s Ethan Landry fanfic b/c I couldn’t think of anything Ethan could say😭) “we don’t have a choice” said Sam as she went across the ladder first. “Y/n you have to go next” said Ethan. “I’m injured and I can’t leave my sister to die” y/n said as tears started to form in his eyes as his wound started to hurt more as time went on. “Y/n I can’t leave you” Ethan said as tears started to form from his eyes as well. “WILL ONE OF YOU PLEASE JUST GO HES ABOUT TO BREAK IN” Mindy says. “Please Ethan just go don’t worry about me” y/n said.

Ethan pulled y/n in for one last kiss before he crossed the ladder. Ethan crossed the ladder but y/n refused to go and made Mindy go. Leaving only Anika and y/n in the apartment with the attacker. “Anika please go I would rather die then have you die” y/n cried as he told his sister. Anika tried convincing y/n to go but there was nothing making him go next across the ladder. “If I die tell mom and dad I love them” y/n cried in pain.

Anika went across the ladder and it was y/n’s turn. He tried crossing the ladder but his wounds started to sting even more. “Guys I can’t” y/n cried in pain. “Come on y/n try!” Ethan yelled out. But as y/n was almost halfway across the ladder everyone froze in fear. “What” said y/n as he turned around.

He saw ghost face and started to scream in fear trying to cross the ladder as fast as he could. But all of a sudden he felt the ladder shake violently. “Ethan I don’t wanna die” y/n cried out. He was holding on to the ladder for dear life. “Y/n give me your hand!” Yelled Sam. He tried to reach for her hand but then he lost balance. His screams filled the alleyway as he fell from a great height. He landed face first on the garbage can bellow and died. They all watched in fear and sadness. Anika lost her brother and Ethan lost his boyfriend.

Time skip to act 3 (btw Anika and Danny are also going to be in act 3)

Ethan took off his mask and revealed himself as the 2nd ghost face along with Quinn and his father. “Ethan?” Tara would say “Why would you do this.” Sam said. Eventually they found out that they were richie’s family. “You killed my fucking brother. YOUR boyfriend.” Anika screamed in anger. “I did love him!” Ethan screamed. “Killing him wasn’t apart of the plan but seeing you angry makes it all worth it”

A/n: ok so I think I did pretty good for my first fanfic. (Pls give me some feedback on what I did bad and good on🥰 )

[sharksnshakes]

Ghostface Tormenting A New Survivor! HCs

As the newest survivor to come through the fog, it’s only a matter of time until the Ghostface puts you through hell. 

A/N; Danny Johnson 1000% loves screwing with new survivors, and you cannot convince me otherwise. This mans is a sadist through and through, and any kind of confrontation would only encourage him. Loosely inspired by this post.

Wordcount; 430 

TW; DBD-typical violence, stalking, knives, injury, stabbing... the works. Ghostface is his own warning. 

Danny loves toying with new survivors, and you’re no exception. 

I mean, you must be new--you don’t even notice him creeping up behind you! 

Danny’s already pretty dramatic, so he’ll pull out all the stops if it means you’ll be hooked or Mori’d by his hands. 

He’ll prey on your lack of experience, reveling in your pained cries and the way you blow up every generator you touch. He’s laughing while he chases you down, a sadistic grin breaking out on his face when he catches and hooks you. It’s not a matter of if he’ll get you, but when. 

Once you’re hooked, he doesn’t care if another survivor comes to save you. In fact, Danny welcomes it: he’s got another opportunity to chase you down!

Either targets you first, or saves you for last.

When you start learning how to play the Entity’s game, pushing pallets down and looping Danny around generators, he’s overjoyed. While straight-up chasing you was plenty of fun, he gets a real rush out of these games of cat and mouse. 

You’ve gained some confidence? Great! Danny can’t wait to strip it away from you, piece by piece. 

So. Many. Pictures of you. 

You hear a click during a trial? Danny’s somewhere nearby, adding a new polaroid to his collection. 

Will go out of his way to Mori you. He values these pictures a bit more than the rest, even if he’s got armfuls of them; while you’re not the hardest survivor to catch, you’re one of the most satisfying. The picture he has from your first Mori will always be one of his favorites. 

At this point, you’re sick of being chased around by the Ghostface (who wouldn’t be!)

If you decide to fight back (which nobody is blaming you for), things don’t get easier. 

After stabbing him with a jagged plank of wood you tore from a pallet, you demand that he leave you alone, expecting the confrontation to deter his behavior. 

Congrats! Your plan has backfired. 

Danny’s charmed by your actions. Not only are you a fun survivor, but you might just be his favorite. 

From there on, the torment only increases. He’ll go so far as to stalk you by the campfire outside of trials, the telltale clicking of his camera occasionally audible through the trees. 

If you decide to confront him about it, Danny will probably be making heart eyes at you from under the mask the entire time. 

Bottom line? There’s virtually nothing you can do to make Danny leave you alone. So... good luck. You’ll be needing it. 

[maxattax]

Look Away - Chapter 5

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Epilogue

--

Danny paced around his bedroom. He couldn’t believe what Jazz had suggested yesterday. It was dangerous, and Danny wasn’t sure it was worth the risk. Sam thought it was a bad idea, whereas Tucker thought it might work. With his friends divided on the issue, Danny would have to make this decision on his own.

This gamble could cost him everything. But he had a lot to gain from it, too. It all depended on whether Jazz was right about Wes. Her psychological profiles did tend to be frustratingly accurate. But if it didn’t go well…

Danny’s pacing got faster. He cleared the room in three steps, turned around, and did it again. Should he do it? Could he do it? He wrung his hands, his knuckles popping with the movement.

He stopped pacing and took a deep breath in. He let the cool air fill his lungs, and steadily breathed out. He was only going to work himself into a frenzy if he kept going like this.

He needed to trust Jazz. She knew what she was talking about. Sam wouldn’t be happy, but Danny would handle that later. He was going to do this.

—

The next day during lunch, Danny sat with his friends at a picnic table in the school courtyard. The weather was getting chilly, so they were the only people eating outside. Danny loved this time of year; being half ghost, he always ran a little cool, so the crisp Autumn air was perfectly comfortable.

“So, did you do it?” Tucker asked. He shoved a few french fries into his mouth.

“I did,” Danny replied.

“You really think he’s gonna go for it?” said Sam. “He has been trying to ruin your life…” She picked at her salad, spearing a tomato with her fork.

“I hope so,” said Danny. “If I’m wrong, you can say ‘I told you so’.”

“‘I told you so’ won’t change anything if you’re in danger, Danny! You–”

Tucker interrupted with, “He’s coming!”

Wes approached the table, his hands in his pockets. He faced Danny but did not meet his eyes. “Hey Danny, can we talk?”

“Yeah.” Danny gestured to the empty table beside theirs. “Let’s sit here, so we can talk alone.” He hated to leave Tucker and Sam out of this, but he needed to do this alone.

“Okay, sure.” They moved over and took a seat. Wes looked around to make sure there was nobody around to eavesdrop. He had a piece of paper in his hand, and nervously folded and unfolded it while he talked. “So, uh. Danny Phantom left me this note last night. ‘You’re right about that thing you said.’ Does that mean what I think it means?”

Danny closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, Wes was looking him in the eye, waiting. “Yes. You were completely right. But look, you can’t tell anyone, and I mean anyone. Your best friend, your parents… nobody can know.”

“Why not?” Wes shook his head. “I could make something of myself if I go public with this. People will finally know I’m not crazy, that I’m not making things up. Why should I keep it a secret?”

So Jazz was right. All he wanted was respect. “Have you considered that my parents are professional ghost hunters? You’ve seen them shoot at me. I’m living under their roof; who knows what they’d do if they knew?

“That’s not to mention the Red Huntress or the Guys in White. If this gets out, my life is in danger. Do you really want my blood on your hands?” Danny never broke eye contact.

Wes paled. “Oh. I mean, I knew you wouldn’t be happy, but I’m not trying to get you killed – or destroyed, or whatever.”

“Killed,” Danny clarified. “I’m still alive. Kinda. It’s complicated.”

Wes was quiet for a minute. His brow furrowed as he turned his thoughts over in his head. “Okay. I won’t tell anyone,” he finally said. Sincerity was clear in his voice. “Does, uh… does this mean I’m not getting my viewfinder back?”

“Yeah, sorry about that. It’s too dangerous for anyone else to have. And, since it can somehow take pictures of me, my sister convinced me to use it. Keep photos for posterity or something.”

“Oh.” Wes looked like he wanted to protest, but he held his tongue.

After a moment’s silence, Danny said, “Look, for you to have figured out my secret, even with whatever weirdness filter keeps everyone else in the dark, is impressive. You’re a good investigator.” A small smile appeared on Wes’s face. “I’ve been thinking; Team Phantom could use an ally with your skills. What do you say? You keep my secret, and I let you in on some of my adventures? Help me figure out what my enemies are planning? I’ll even let you interview me, as long as my secrets stay off the record.”

Wes leaned his chin on his hand, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “That sounds agreeable. I’ll definitely reach out to you for that interview some time soon.” He pulled a piece of paper from his backpack and scribbled something on it. He offered it to Danny. “My phone number. If anything weird needs investigating, give me a call.”

“You got it. I’m gonna fill in Sam and Tucker. They, and my sister Jazz, are the only people you can talk to about this.”

“Noted. I’ll give you some space.” Danny and Wes stood and went back to their respective tables.

Sam and Tucker looked at Danny, their question evident on their faces.

“He took it surprisingly well,” Danny said. “He seems sincere. I think we can trust him. But oh my God, Jazz is going to be insufferable when she learns she was right.”

Tucker said, “Good job, dude. I’m glad we’ve got another person on our side.”

“I’m still nervous about this. I hope you made the right decision,” said Sam.

“I think I did,” Danny said. “Thank you both for trusting me.”

[candikin]

Woo, hopefully nobody gets mad at me for this like Picsart would for this, but welcome to...

How I think my main OC would interact with other OCs!

(reminder that it says think, not actual. I am not the creator of anybody mentioned here other then Lexi Mary. I am also apologizing for the people who got @'ed)

______________________________________________________________

Accordion and Violin (OCs by @bluetorchsky)

I don't think they'll get along super well. Now don't get me wrong, I don't think they'll be enemies but I just don't see them really being friends. She'll probably be too scared to talk to them anyways as she's a big coward and I mean... look at them compared to her, they could absolutely destroy her if they wanted too. She'll probably wave when walking pass them once she warmed up to them though!

Jay Benson (OC by @jaytoons7)

Hmm, probably would get along a little bit. There's nothing Jay can really do that could scare off Lexi, and Lexi canonly has friends who are kinda like Jay. I just don't see them seeing eachother that often, and they probably wouldn't have that many special interactions. Just some casual acquaintances that could develop into a tiny friendship

Scottie Anderson (Also by @jaytoons7)

Lexi would 100% be scared of Scottie at first. I am not sure if they would ever be friends because Lexi can be a bit... annoying at times. I don't see them being complete enemies though, specially since Lexi is almost never at the kitchen and Lexi always tries to make things better by helping

Amelia Copperbottom (OC by @androidcharles)

Oooh! I see them getting along very well! Lexi never gets scared from children, so there's no way she'll be scared of Amelia. They have quite a lot in common. The only problem is Lexi is in desperate need of a friend who also isn't a stickfigure/human, so she might vent dump to Amelia on accident

Danny Felizima (OC by @capturecharlesau)

It HEAVILY depends if Lexi overhears about the curse before meeting him or not. If she does, as she most likely is as she's secretly very nosy, she would HATE him. She would absolutely blame Danny and constantly fight Danny for no reason other then the curse. And probably lose... everytime. Well until she finds out Danny has motion sickness, then he's screwed

If she didn't, they would probably would (and surprisely) become friends. They do have some stuff in common, it's just nobody expects Lexi to have that side of her when everybody thinks she's innocent (have fun guessing because I am not going to explain how they are kinda similiar). They would probably have secret conservations, specifically with letters because Lexi doesn't trust saying things out loud. Lexi would try to convince Danny to stop his dangerous actions. She would probably feel too bad to leave the friendship if she ever hears about the curse at this point

Benjamin Suave (OC by @fluvvie)

They would probably be acquaintances, despite Benjamin working for the government. Not enemies but not really friends... until she hears about his trauma. It doesn't matter if it's because Benjamin told her or if she overhears it, she'll feel terrible. She knows what is it like to have a very terrible family member. She will basically start getting really attached to Benjamin and protect him at all costs, expect at times where she knows she'll get in big trouble with the Toppat Clan.

______________________________________________________________

I'll probably make a part 2, I just ran out of OCs that I know enough info about

[icos-3]

Dear Diary

We actually found something today!

Amity Park's forests are much bigger on the inside than they are on the outside! I have no idea how nobody has managed to find this out yet!

We found like some sort of weird pocket dimension. Inside it was night, but it was day when we entered. I don't think it's the same sky we have outside. The moon was a kind of weird pale blue, and the stars were a mix of green, white, blue, and weirdly enough, pink.

I looked for some of the constellations I recognized, but some of them either moved or disappeared completely. It didn't look like our sky in any way. I need to do more research, but I think this sky is similar to how the sky would look in the southern hemisphere! Even if it's not, it's really cool!

We also found a bunch of tiny little orbs of light flying across the sky! They looked so pretty! And they were so friendly! Most of them swirled around my head, but some of them went to go say hi to Sam and Tuck! They were just so cute!!

I loved being there with them so much! It felt so magical! When they were around me, it felt like I could do anything! I don't know why, but they just make me happy! It looked like Sam and Tucker felt the same, but they clearly weren't as happy as I was!

I just want to hug those little guys so. frikken. BADLY!!!

But, in any case, this proves it! These spaces won't be going anywhere any time soon! From what we saw in there, the space is really structurally sound!

I think Dash would be relieved to know these spots are safe! And I think those little guys might just be able to lighten the mood enough to convince Dash without having to do much convincing! If the ghosts trust them, why can't the rest of us?

I think we should show Dash this place. I should ask Sam and Tucker about it, but as of late, they seem to be getting their own stuff they have to focus on as well. I'll ask them eventually. At least we found that clover Sam was looking for. I can see why she was after it.

But, still, I thought they'd both be a little more excited by the whole extra-dimensional pocket hiding in the woods with pixies or fairies or something living in it. I'm definitely going to show Dash this when I get the time. I just hope he'll be willing to take a chance on it.

Speaking of Dash, I probably won't get to show him this place if mister Lancer keeps giving me this much homework... I guess I'd better get started. I'd rather have some spare time tomorrow than to spend the whole day working.

This takes place before chapter 13 of The Kidnapping of Danny Fenton

[1] . . . [7] <- [8] -> [9]

[dantheserialkillerman]

Can you please make Dan X male reader who keeps being abused by his own family for being "weak"?

Sure! I did take some liberties in the prompt (as I usually do ngl). This is more of a basic premise, and introducing of characters. However, I hope this fulfills your Danny needs ;))

Dan Hiroki x M!English Reader

TW: mentions of suicide and abuse

Everyone has or claims to have a first memory. Maybe it’s being placed in a pram, falling out of a pram, or being pushed around in a pram. Perhaps it is something nonsensical you’ve convinced yourself was a past life, like running on a battlefield and being shot in the head. It could be a smell, taste, or a feeling. Yet, for you, it was none of these things. Your first memory was only a single word. Weak.

You were the firstborn son of a noble family who still owned an estate. Your father came from old money and was a well-regarded businessman who dabbled in the stock market. Your mother was a former television actress. A mary-go-round of nannies and butlers raised you.

Your mother wandered the corridors like a ghost, passing through doors aimlessly and seemingly avoiding you at all cost. A doctor would come in occasionally, and a maid would bring you in to say hello. The last time you saw her was a rainy Monday afternoon, the raindrops incessantly tapping against the windowsill in an uneven tune. She hugged you for the first time in months, claimed she would be going away soon, and wished she could miss you.

Your mother killed herself the next day.

You were young enough not to understand what it truly meant to die but not young enough that you wouldn’t remember her. You had thought of her passing like a cassette tape, and even if you didn’t like the ending, you could simply ask a maid to rewind it to the part before everything went awry. But she couldn’t, and your father didn’t seem to care one way or the next.

A month passed, and he quickly remarried your latest nanny—a pretty young twenty-something who had just graduated from college.

At first, she was sweet, if not overbearing, but when you had refused to call her mother, she had quickly changed.

The abuse started small. Snarky remarks about how you were little for your age. How helpless and pitiful you looked. How you didn’t compare to your father, and maybe he should get a test to ensure legitimacy. Then it exalted to the occasional slap and pretending you didn’t exist. You become a nobody within your own home.

When you turned thirteen, you were one of the only children happy to be told they were attending boarding school. During the summer before you left, you had packed your bag on the first day of June and silently stared at the suitcase during those hot nights, reminding yourself you would be freed soon.

Despite your stepmother’s claims that you were a failure, the academy was a rebirth. You became a house captain and were an active member of the rowing team. A star pupil. The poster boy of “What to be and how to be it.” Your teachers adored you. The students looked up to you and regarded you as someone worth your name. You were not that broken-down actor forced to play the role of the leftover child. You were someone better. Someone not weak. Someone worth being alive.

Yet, you always dreaded the rolling in of summer when you were forced to leave the tall ivy walls and the midnight study sessions in the library. Your father was conveniently always away on business.

You would try to hide in your room during most of your visits, but your stepmother would always corner you, the servants turning a blind eye in fear. She would whisper, “Y/N, your father tells me your mother killed herself because of you. She couldn’t stand having such a weak, pathetic child. A parasite. Even the rope that bitch hung herself with was stronger than you.”

Sometimes, the servants would find you during the early hours, as the sun forced its way upon the red sky, staring at the giant oak tree that haunted the estate. You would grip the branches and hang there like your mother did years ago, seeing how much strength it took to snap a branch. The wood would sink into your skin, and over time scars developed upon your palms. It took an entire night for anyone to notice her dead, and one day you would also try to hang from that tree for the same amount of time. You would not be weak.

Year 10 was when everything changed. You were fifteen, studying for your A levels in preparation for Cambridge when you saw him.

A Japanese boy was sprawled across the grass with no shoes and a dirty rumpled uniform. In his right hand, he held a novel called The Exorcist by William Peter Blatty. His left pushed back black hair that continuously fell into his lovely face. What he was doing was unrefined, improper, and completely captivating. He looked like wildness contained and modelled into flesh, barely attached to the world, with only the pages of his book saving him from drifting away.

A professor had caught you gaping, and in humiliation, you quickly left before anyone else could notice.

You remained restless with the thought of him. That was until you were summoned to the headmaster’s office the next day.

All that glitters is not gold, and all that shines is not divine. No, it can be something much more valuable and rare, like the dark rhodium of the wild boy’s eyes watching you as you entered the meeting.

You learned he was named Dan Hiroki, a transfer student who was only here for a couple of months and the son of a high-ranking politician in Toyko, apparently sent away after some unknown scandal until everything calmed down.

“Y/N, you took Japanse for langues, didn’t you?” The headmaster asked you.

“I have rudimentary understanding, sir.”

“But enough to get by?”

“I could hold a conversation if needed.”

He smiled and adjusted his glasses, “Good lad, as head boy, I would like you to help Mr. Hiroki feel welcomed to our campus. Show him some English spirit. Sound good?”

You looked to Dan, his eyes pinning you down and your hands sweating. You would not be weak.

“I would be honoured.”

Dan smiled softly, and for the first time, you heard his voice. “I look forward to getting to know you, Y/N.”

As if being plunged into a pool of dark water, ready to drown at any minute, you couldn’t help but sink. Maybe your family was right. Perhaps you were pathetic. But it wasn’t until summer you would learn the price you would pay for any good deed.

[georgiapeach30513]

Very controversial opinion because I know how some people feel about the Russo brothers:

Their films outside their big four marvel films : TWS, civil war, infinity war, and endgame - some are questionable. I watched cherry and I was like….are these even the same guys who did those other movies???

But. One thing I really believe, and you mentioned here before:

The Russo brothers can pull an amazing performance out of Chris E. He is their muse and they are his. it’s clear to ME that he is very probably their favorite. Even during TGM you could 1000% tell the Russos lived for Lloyd. They knew it was a six franchise so Lloyd was one and done but if they could they would have had Chris as six. And we know this.

They were able to pull something out of him rarely other directors besides bong joon ho, rian Johnson, and Danny Boyle were able to. I’m actually going to add David Yates to this because I’m still convinced Pete Brenner in PH was one of his most poignant performances of recent memory. He was underused but David got something out of him. I disagree with critics.

Anyways - back to Russos. They got Steve and Lloyd out of him. I know people poo poo the action comic book stuff because it’s not awards worthy or Martin Scorsese and Leo but seriously?

Are yall CE fans or Leo fans?

I really think people ought to start looking at the actor they Stan/fan and stop wanting to put him in a book with another actor.

Nobody knows if and or what he will do next. But I do think it’s a good sign that the Russos were able to repeatedly direct Chris into a version of himself that’s not only memorable, but iconic.

That’s why I’m totally ok if for some reason in the future, he does end up working with the Russos again.

Super super bold statement: you can call me delusional all you want but if there were a pair of directors that could actually pull an Oscar worthy performance out of CE, it would be Joe and Anthony Russo. I’m serious.

TBC, Im not saying the Russos are ever going to make any awards worthy content nor that they’ll work with Chris again or that Chris wants to do that or anything. I’m just saying, their connection is unique and mutually beneficial/special.

We do not know if Chris’ dinner with the Russos will result in a project. We don’t know what was discussed, or why they met. They are friends. But let’s assume it was work related. The next project they’re casting for isn’t even action. Let’s not forget the work the Russos did on Community. They can do some great work. I just feel in recent years they became all flash and no substance. So that Amazon project isn’t pure action. it is about cryptocurrency.

I was talking to someone this morning on discord about the whole damn comparison thing, it’s tired and old. Sebastian and Chris get compared all the time because Steve and Bucky. Sebastian clearly wants to be a critical darling. He takes risks and makes award baiting movies. That is what HE wants with HIS career. Chris wants to make more popcorn flicks. Do not come at me. There is nothing wrong with that. It is HIS career, and that is what HE wants. It’s like comparing Brad Pitt to Tom Cruise. Does Tom still have a great career? Does he make popcorn flicks? Has he pretty much stuck to popcorn flicks with some random critically praised movies? Yes. Now look at Brad’s career, early on Brad was making award baiting movies. Legends of the Fall, Seven Years In Tibet, A River Runs Through it. And he has continued to do that. But does that make either actor better or worse than the other? No, it doesn’t. Do they still have careers to this day? Yes, they do. So can we squash comparing actors to actors? Instead compare Chris work to his other work?

I get a bit annoyed that Chris continues to work with the same people all the time, but doesn’t Leo work with Scorsese all the time? I just hope whatever his next project is something he is passionate about. I hope he enjoys the time he has on set, and the people he’s working with. And I’ve got my fingers crossed for something, and I hope that the rumbles and mumbling as I’m hearing about February are true. So let’s see.

[valkyrieandstrangeridingaragorn]

Hey, Pop Culture Detective did a new video on the MCU Marvel's Defenders of The Status Quo

Damn, thank you for sharing, that was really good!

I wholeheartedly agree with OP that in these movies we see the heroes reacting only when the status quo is threatened and them stopping the villains is considered a win - whatever the villains were trying to change is never addressed, they never engage in any socio-political project. The pattern is always the same: to return the world to what it was before the attack, never to use this as an opportunity for change.

And it's especially jarring given that some of the heroes should know better than defending the status quo. Steve is one of them, the disabled child of immigrants born in the '20s living in NYC in the middle of a rise of eugenicism would do anything in his power to actively fight against the status quo, and yet he's content with fighting external fights and stopping a bunch of helicarriers in TWS and getting his people out of the Raft... what about the other inmates? What about the people who will be taken there once the heroes are gone? What about fighting against the system to get the Accords repealed? Nope, we get none of that.

What OP says about Stark reminded me of Luke Cage and Danny Rand's argument in The Defenders where Luke is telling him his wealth leaves him in a privileged position to incite real change in the world but he'd rather go on vigilante mode instead. It's the same with Stark, he doesn't use his money to advocate for social change, if anything he runs Damage Control and takes jobs from the citizens of NYC like we see in Homecoming.

As OP says: "Instead the superheroes engage in random acts of benevolence. A billionaire gifts the world with some fancy new proprietary technology, a soldier asks nicely that corrupt bureaucrats just do better. In the best-case scenario, a wealthy monarch builds an international network of community centers. These Band-Aid approaches may help a few disenfranchised individuals here and there but they're also designed to keep the current economic and political structures firmly in place".

I think probably the worst case offender of villains being right but having their methods be as immoral as it takes in order to get the audience to disagree with them are Killmonger and the Flagsmashers. Erik starts making a little too much sense for Disney's liking so they have him kill his girlfriend out of nowhere (at least they address some of the overarching issue with T'Challa following Nakia's lead but as said above, that's a band-aid), Karli and the others are asking for redistribution of food and medicine, the relocation of refugees, a change of how borders are reinforced and a stop to mass deportations... so of course The Mouse has Karli kill a bunch of innocents out of nowhere so they can be called terrorists. Nobody wants to side with a terrorist, right?

To quote OP again: "Having the villain's methods always involve indiscriminate killing is a deliberate decision by the writers [...] The equating of social justice causes with outright villainy is one of the reasons why the superhero genre is often accused of leaning conservative ideologically."

Lastly, I really like that part about Alan Moore's criticism of superhero movies and the trend that "speaks to a denial of reality and an urge for simplistic and sensational solutions". I like it because it reminded me of the TVA, how in the Loki series we're told HWR is the only bad guy and taking him down will solve the problem as if that kind of fascism would go away by taking down the main guy, as if that organization wasn't comprised of thousands (if not more) of agents who agreed with his methods and worked willingly for an unknown period of time effectively pruning entire realities and killing innocents. You can't destroy the system by punching one guy and it's almost insulting how the narrative in the series tries to convince the audience that's all it takes.

In short, there's a reason why Disney and Marvel got rid of Nomad Steve so quickly + they're choosing to ignore Sam but they're oh so willing to bring Captain Carter to the spotlight. She's as pro-status quo as it gets. These movies should be addressing social change, not defending the system that gets a lot of people discriminated against and oppressed - especially when a lot of the heroes fit that criteria but of course they're never shown talking about it on-screen.

[spookyboywhump]

Hi hello I had stumbled across This and I finally got some writing done because of it :3c

***

 “God, I can’t fucking stand you, you know that?” Zander growled, at the point of the night that he’d begun to antagonize Nicholas. It wasn’t a smart move, he knew that, but he was bored and he knew that he wouldn’t get out of this unscathed anyway, he may as well earn whatever punishment he’d receive in the end. 

 “The feeling is mutual, mutt.” Nicholas said bluntly, not even looking away from his laptop to spare any attention to the man at his feet, hands cuffed behind him. 

 “I’d rather die than spend another minute around you.”

 “I’d also rather you died.” Nicholas said, and it almost looked like he was about to smile. “It would be quieter around here at least. I wonder, how long do you think it would take me to convince Cain to have you put down once we’re married?”

 “Oh fuck off, if he hasn’t offed me yet he’s not going to do it just because you tell him to.”

 “You know you should watch your language.”

 “Why don’t you make me? Too lazy to get off your ass and find a muzzle?” He snickered, and Nicholas sighed heavily. 

 “Really, I think that’s quite enough, Daniel.” 

 For a moment, Zander just stared at him, like he wasn’t sure he heard him right. He couldn’t have, he swore he was just hearing things. All of a sudden, he found it harder to think, harder to speak, everything slowing down as he tried to process what he’d heard.

 “W-what… what did you say…?” He asked hesitantly.

 “I said that I think that’s enough, Daniel. I know you have trouble listening but honestly now, it’s not that hard.” He finally turned his attention to Zander, and as they made eye contact he was sure, Nicholas knew exactly what he was doing. He felt like he was going to be sick. 

 “Why- why are you-”

 “Why am I what?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. 

 “That name, you- you can’t…” He didn’t know how to say what he was thinking, and Nicholas seemed to be enjoying every second of this.

 “Hm? It is your name, isn’t it?”

 “No!” He cried, his heart sinking as he realized what he’d said. “No- no I mean, it- it is, but you can’t- you aren’t supposed to-”

 “You keep forgetting, I can call you anything I’d like to.” Nicholas said, leaning forward and grabbing Zander by the face, gripping his chin tightly despite the fact he made no effort to pull away, still staring at him in shock. “Zander, mutt, sweetheart, Daniel, Danny, it doesn’t matter, you’ll answer to whatever I decide to call you, understand?” He said sternly, and for once Zander was completely at a loss for words, slowly nodding his head, if only to get Nicholas to let go of him. The man smiled at him, and let go of his chin to gently pat the side of his face, Zander bracing for a slap though. “Good boy. See, you really are more tolerable when you keep your mouth shut.” He said, returning to what he’d been doing before.

 Zander still felt sick, he didn’t understand why Nicholas suddenly decided to do that, nobody had used that name for him in years, at one point it had been a punishable offense. He gave it up, it was easier, safer to just give it up than take a beating every time he or somebody else dared to say it, he’d long since accepted that he’d lost that part of himself, he didn’t expect to ever hear it again, and he certainly didn’t expect to hear it from Nicholas. He wondered if Cain had told him, or if he’d read his file from when he’d first been kidnapped. He supposed it was possible Nicholas had known all along, his case had been a big deal at one point, but he’d never let on that he knew, or even cared who Zander used to be. He was starting to wish it had stayed that way. That name sounded wrong coming from him, it sounded like a taunt. He’d rather never hear it again than have to hear it from Nicholas of all people.

 In the end, Nicholas got what he had wanted. He’d dragged up memories of his early days in captivity, that constant ache that never went away, he could only try to ignore by forcing himself to never think about his father, or the rest of his family for that matter. It hurt too much to think of the things he’d lost and left behind, to think of the pieces of himself that had been ripped away from him all those years ago. It took all his energy to focus on holding himself together, to blink back tears and refuse to show any emotion on his face. Nicholas was no doubt satisfied with himself, Zander was so caught up in his own thoughts, he didn’t say another word for the rest of the night.

[escailyyy]

So with the house of Dragon hype pulling me back to the got fandom I thought I'd share with you a plot bunny for 'The real Sansa and Tyrion' that probably won't make it past the drabble stage. But you still deserve to see.

Varys Enoch (strirrer of sit): get ready for our episode 50 featuring what all our fans have asked for in the online polls and several disturbing emails

Petyr Baelish (lord middle finger): That's right! you're finally getting a crossover episode with 'Targaryen takes Hollywood' so without further Ado... Let's start the show

----

Bran: So Danny and Jon are throwing a housewarming party in their brand new beach villa, which means

Tyrion: that's Danny's extended family is in town for the weekend

Sansa: And if you think that Thanksgiving with my crazy aunt Lysa and Tyrion's psychopath nephew was bad

Sansa: you've yet to meet Daenerys remaining living relatives.

Tyrion: are they related or do they simply look alike? We don't know okay she's got a messed up family tree

Daenerys: it's not messed up. There's uncle Aemon, who is super old, My father Aerys, his twin Viserys II, who has a daughter Rhaenyra. Who usually hangs out with the Velaryons and then Alicent, Uncle Vis little stepford wife plus her posse of people I don't like

Daenerys: dad named my brother after our uncle so yeah, that's how my idiot brother ended up as Viserys the third

Viserys III (the metalhead): Father, mother and Rhaegar refused to acknowledge Alicent as part of the family when they were alive, and Danny says that so should we

Daenerys: then there's cousin Daemon who may or may not be also an uncle.

Viserys the metalhead: well we think he's an uncle, but he could be a cousin. our lawyers say not to ask. Something about an inheritance issue.

Varys: the mad king and the weak king buried those dna records extremally deep so he's either a distant third cousin dropped on their doorstep when Viserys and Aerys were teens or he's their younger brother

Petyr Baelish: old Viserys won't say and trust me better men have tried to get it out of him

Petyr and Varys: Including Alicent

Daenerys: And honestly at this point nobody in this family wants to know if he's biologically related to us

Sansa: probably because Daemon and Rhaenyra are ....

Tyrion: putting the wand in the chamber of secrets

Margaery: fertilizing their garden

Robb: doing the naked tango together

Sansa: bumping uglies

Bronn: F**ing

Daenerys: which is where my family gets the incest rumors from

Sansa: hence why I'm team Ygrite

Jon: I SAID MY DAD WAS NOT RHAEGAR

Jamie: there's a reason not even Cersei will touch that messy PR nightmare family with a ten foot pole

Sansa: Tyrion and I are brining the expensive wine, this is going to be so fun

-------

ep 2 of crossover between 'the real sansa and tyrion' with 'Targaryen take hollywood'

Rhaenyra: Not to be ‘that girl’ but really? What kind of asshole shows up to a black tie event wearing green

Laenor: probably the kind of asshole who acts like the victim when you don’t share with her who took your v-card before the press finds out

Laenor: but how would I know? Unlike Rhaenyra I’m still friends with all my exes

Daemon: I am in no way judging people’s tacky fashion choices but Alicent’s Fiona dress is getting on my nerves

Alicent: I mean I know the invite said wear black or die bch, but what can I say? some statements can only be made trough a killer outfit

Daenerys: or trough a blatant disrespect to the host

Daenerys: Am I the only one who wants to feed her to the Komodo dragons?

Rhaenyra: let’s just say it’s a common sentiment in the family

Daemon: dear Viserys looks like he wants to die of embarrassment

Daemon: wait doesn’t Otto have an ambulance on retainer just in case?

Rhaenyra: Oh definitely I mean we all know Otto isn’t going to let my dad die just yet

Rhaenyra: At least not until Alicent can convince him to disinherit me and leave his millions to her

Alicent: that’s such a vile accusation and they know it I love Viserys it’s not my fault that true love has no age

Alicent: just ask Daemon

Corlys: ……

Rhaenys: …….

Viserys: If someone tries to ask Daemon if it’s true that love has no age I am going to scream!

Rhaenys: Such a killjoy

Corlys: He never lets us have fun does he?

Bonus:

Tyrion: you should have seen Jon’s face when he found out that Daenerys ‘daughter of the mad King of music’ Targaryen was the sane one of her family

Sansa: That’s like meeting my mom on a bad day and then realizing she’s related to a bunch of Aunt Lysas

Tyrion: we are living for it

Sansa: Someone bring more popcorn I want to see when they start punching each other over desert

An: Another reality show under the umbrella of Westeros Productions 'Targaryen takes Hollywood' is a reality that follows the life of a famous British rock royalty celebrity family who just moved to Hollywood. Featuring Viserys 'the weak king' Targaryen, last living member of famous 80s rock band 'the Rolling Dragonstones' , his wife, former model Alicent H. And his daughter Rock Singer songwriter Rhaenyra, lead singer for British band 'Realms Delight'.

Recurring cast in 'Targaryen takes Hollywood' are Daemon 'The Rogue prince' Targaryen. British hall of Fame actor famous for his villain roles and action hero sequences. Laenor, Laena and Harwin, Rhaenyra's other band members in 'realms delight'. Corlys and Rhaenys, West End Theater trained actors now turned Indie movie directors who are L&L parents. Otto Hightower, Viserys agent. Criston Cole, Viserys and Alicent's bodyguard, Larys Strong, Viserys publicist and Lyonel Strong, Viserys good friend and family Lawyer.

Since the majority of 'The real Sansa and Tyrion' is usually filmed England and 'Targaryen takes Hollywood' is usually filmed between America Canada and Australia. Crossovers between the two shows rarely happen. Unless it's a special occasion.

Ps: what do you guys think of me expanding the reality tv au?

[erigold13261]

I'm back at it at Krispy Kreme but this time I had something come to mind which involved what you said about Kliff and Tatiana in your last response about them going their separate ways after they sort things out with each other. This does involve some concepts from my OFA AU too so my mind is going all over for this one (don't mind me lol-)

Kliff and Tatiana have their own separate lives and have their own families, Kliff being with Artemis and eventually having their daughter and son (Orion and Prince Astral) and Tatiana being with Olive and their 3 daughters come along over the years (Titanium Qwartz, Sonya Fyra, and Rosie). Everything's all fine and dandy until the sudden reveal comes out of nowhere that Sonya (Tatiana's middle child/daughter) and Orion (Kliff's oldest and only daughter) are dating and these two lovebirds have no idea about their parents past history with each other which makes it even 10x more chaotic-

I'm sure the reaction from both Kliff and Tatiana would both be extremely shocked, while Artemis and Olive try everything they can to make sure their spouse doesn't do anything drastic. Asides from being shook, Kliff and Tatiana might also learn about all the shenanigans the girls have gotten into with their bandmates which include the following:

-Flooding an entire waterpark while shooting a music video (in which they got banned from going to afterwards)

-Causing a fire in the NSR Tower break room because Mason forgot to remove the aluminum foil covering his food in the microwave but thankfully it was put out quickly (and Danny made sure to remind Mason to remove any foil from that point forward before putting food in the microwave)

-Orion hacking into a satellite and having an album of Burning Constellation (the name of the band btw) being blasted throughout Vinyl City for 2 whole weeks until everyone got tired of it

-Holding a party when Titanium left town to take care of something at the NSR Tower which got out of hand and pictures got leaked to the internet (nobody got hurt but Titanium was very mad when she got back)

-Orion summoning Kul Fyra's guitar out of nowhere via her own dark magic, her bandmates are cool with it but it catches everyone else off guard since she somehow has it and is now playing it as her own instrument, plus she plays the most sick guitar rifts that no one else has been able to do in the history of rock (Sonya gave her the guitar because the band needed a guitarist and Orion was showing some skills via practice on her old guitar-)

And of course the one incident where the band accidentally blew up the Grand Qwasa and caused a blackout before getting into a 2 hour long police chase is the most famous out of all their chaotic mischief since they ended up getting arrested for that one- Titanium was the one to bail them out of jail and despite being at a "loss for words" she proceeded to yell at them on how reckless they had been for the next 30 minutes. (I'm certain Tatiana would be very upset about that one-)

So yeah Kliff and Tatiana end up getting back into contact with each other because of their daughters' relationship and probably end up breaking the news to the girls about their past history which they surprisingly take it well and understand. Bonus if during this conversation Prince Astral attempts to sneak out of the room quietly since he wants no part of this and ends up tripping and falling to the floor flat on his face which causes everyone to see the poor boy on the floor- Rosie also shows up and is a very confused bean but Titanium manages to convince her little sister to wait until everyone is finished talking with each other.

Sorry if this is a bit lengthy I let the brain rot take over for this ask- But I hope you get a good laugh out of this silly concept of Kliff and Tatiana meeting once again due to the circumstances of their daughters being together.

H-how did Tatiana and Kliff not know all this about their kids yet!? Those two need to stop kissing their SOs and keep better eyes on their kids! /j

Also, I know this was meant for the FRAU Re-revolution timeline, but all I can think about is Orion just magically stealing the guitar from Mayday while she is performing lol

Anyway, yeah I do find that pretty funny that they cross paths again. I'm assuming they would have just because of Olive and Artemis, but I guess their spouses knew not to bring them to the same place when hanging out with each other.

It make me think a lot of Romeo and Juliet with the star-crossed lovers, except of everyone dying at the end they get a nice happy ending!

I can definitely see a few scare moments with FRAU Tatiana might having yelled or lost her anger for a moment after the reveal, but she just looks at Olive which calms her down and then they have their little chat or whatever.

Also, again, these kids (teens?) need to be watched so much better! THEY FLOODED A WHOLE WATERPARK! FOR A VIDEO!!! omfg XD

[twoidiotwriters1]

Copycat: Agent Zero —(Marvel Fem!Oc)

A/N: I knew little about this story when I started it but All Too Well was always Peter and C.C.’s song -Danny

Words: 1,756

Phase Four Masterlist

Previous chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘All Too Well’ -by Taylor Swift

xv: Lost

"Hey! Are you going to—?"

"There's no time," Cat ran up the jet's ladder.

"Where's Fury? And Peter?"

"Mysterio was a scam," she looked inside the jet anxiously. "Where's my stuff?"

"The suitcase's over there," Happy pointed at a seat further away.

Cat looked at the suitcase without moving, she opened her mouth a little, but then the man's phone rang and distracted him.

"Happy..." she said weakly. "Happy, I think Peter—"

"Parker! Thank God," Happy looked at her and pointed at his phone. "Yeah, okay. Where are you?"

Cat looked up with immense relief. Trying to get rid of her teary eyes, her hands rubbed her face.

"What? I didn't get that," Happy walked towards the cockpit. "Wait— hang on, let me see if Friday can get it..."

"Thank God," Cat sighed, still feeling faint. "He's okay..."

"We're landing, I can see Peter..." Happy went down the ladder and a few seconds later she followed his lead.

Cat was restless, and she wanted to make sure it was Peter and not some illusion, so she took her gun.

"Peter? Are you okay?" Happy asked out loud.

"Happy, is that you?" Peter's voice was fearful, the last time it'd quivered like this was seconds before turning into dust.

"Is it me? Yeah, of course it's me!"

"Stop! Tell me something only you would know!"

"Only I would know... Uh— you remember when we went to Germany? You wanted to help Pietro and Cat so you convinced them to sneak out and Pietro was hungover the next day—"

"...okay, it's you," Peter's eyes landed on her. "Cat?"

She tried to remember some intimate memory only she would know. "I... I used to have a scar on the back of my head, I told you about it the day you said 'I love you' for the first time."

The boy looked at her, and for a brief second his voice softened. "It's you." He limped towards them and Happy was the first to react, Peter hugged him, and squeezed his eyes closed. "It's so good to see you."

"Okay, you two have to tell me what the hell is going on here..." Happy demanded.

The hero stepped away and stared at her. "You haven't told him?"

She felt like she would throw up out of pure stress if she tried to speak, instead, Cat looked at her watch and shrugged. "I waited for you so we'd have the whole story."

"Okay, hold still. There we go..."

Peter jumped. "Ouch!"

Cat's hand flinched as if trying to reach for Peter, she grabbed her folded spear instead, twirling it around and trying her best to look unbothered. An hour ago Peter had died again, and it surprised her just how much it'd hurt, even while keeping her distance.

"I thought you had super strength?"

"Super strength doesn't equal pain endurance..." she muttered absently.

Peter glanced at her like he wanted to say something, but Happy's stitching distracted him. "Ouch!" His fist hit the table's surface. "Happy!"

The man raised his voice in exasperation. "Relax!"

"Don't tell me to relax, Happy!" Peter sprung out of his seat, eyes tired and swollen. "How can I relax when I messed up so bad?! I trusted Beck. Right? I thought he was my friend. I gave him the only thing Mr. Stark left for me, and now he's gonna kill my friends and half of Europe, so please do not tell me to relax—"

"Don't talk to Happy like that," Cat warned him.

"Don't fight," the man tried to calm them. "It's okay."

Peter collapsed on the seat in front of her, he was going through many emotions in very little time. His hands went up to his curls. "I'm sorry, Happy. I'm sorry. I shouldn't shout... I just... really miss him."

"Yeah... I miss him too."

"That makes three of us," she sighed.

"Everywhere I go I see his face. And the whole world is asking who's gonna be the next Iron Man and I don't know if that's me, Happy," Peter sniffed. "I'm not Iron Man."

"You're not Iron Man. You're never gonna be Iron Man. Nobody could live up to Tony. Not even Tony. He was my best friend and he was a mess. He second-guessed everything he did. He was all over the place. The one thing that he did that he didn't second-guess was picking you. I don't think Tony would have done what he did if he didn't know that you were gonna be here after he was gone. Now, your friends are in trouble, you're all alone, your tech is missing. What are you gonna do about it?"

"...I'm gonna kick his ass."

That made her laugh. Both men looked at her and she lifted her gaze, her skin felt a little warm and she couldn't tell if it was anger or embarrassment.

"Sorry," she said, but it didn't sound sincere. "I guess I get it, but Peter... what's your deal?"

The boy frowned. "Excuse me?"

"I had to hijack your stupid trip so you'd help and now you act like this holds any meaning to you?" Cat scoffed. "Tony hated being Iron Man. He hated it, and yet he forced himself to keep going because he was arrogant."

She got up and walked away so she didn't have to face them.

"This is a joke. S.H.I.E.L.D's a bunch of old people whose only way to feel better about themselves is to keep us in line. People like Quentin suddenly felt entitled to make their own institutions—"

"Cat—"

"Don't tell me to be quiet," she said. "All I've done is fit into their precious boxes. I've been the Avenger they wanted me to be and what did that bring me? Do you know how it feels knowing you won't live to turn thirty?"

"Don't think like that, look at Tony's family, look at what he built!"

Cat gave him a sour look. "He did that after he left the Avengers! Listen, I don't care about dying, alright? I guess it's been my fate all along, I just wish Peter stopped acting like being a hero is worth all the sacrifices I've done since I was a kid."

"That's bullshit," Peter argued.

"What?"

"When you broke up with me you said the exact opposite," he replied. "Our relationship wasn't worth it, your life only mattered if you became an agent— you don't care about dying but you hate feeling like you won't make it to thirty? What is your deal?"

"This isn't about me!"

"It's always about you!" Peter got up and stood very close to her. "I keep thinking of you as this naive girl, but I don't think that's right. I don't think it's naivety."

"I was naive when you met me, I knew nothing about the world!" She retorted. "I let you convince me I'd be able to have a normal life—"

"You couldn't wait to grow up and the moment you did you never looked back."

"That's not true."

"Where's all my stuff?"

She blinked without understanding. "What?"

"The presents I gave you. The pictures you had of us together. You really want me to believe you still have them? You left half of Pietro's things in the apartment and I know you gave away the rest!" She remained quiet, Peter did not wait for her reply. "For you, it was five years. I lost everything in less than a day, and you didn't look at me once."

"Because every time I look at you it hurts," she replied with a choked voice. "Y-you don't know how hard it was... the time it took to move on and forget all of it."

"You're right I don't know," he swallowed harshly. "'Cause I didn't forget you. I remember everything. Everything."

Before the blip, Peter was a person she could talk to about her fears and dislikes, about the things that hurt her the most. Now he was the embodiment of her pain, and she couldn't look at him without wanting to bawl her eyes out.

She decided to bring down the tension for Happy's sake. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I want. I'm lost. That's why we can't be friends after this is over, we have too much history together and if I make a mistake, I'm going to hurt you again."

"You're right," his voice got darker. Peter never felt like he had to hide anything from her, C.C. was soft and light, but this young woman in front of him was all sharp edges and grey tones. "Stay away for real this time."

Her stomach shrunk with an awful sense of guilt. Peter shook his head shortly and walked past her.

"If you wanna say goodbye we'll do it after I fix my mess, if not... you don't have to worry, I'm done trying to be friends with you."

In spite of herself, Cat laughed. She wasn't amused, though. It was out of incredulity and utter desperation. One hand instinctively reached up to her hair and pulled to ease the pain in her chest. Peter clicked his tongue impatiently, moving in the opposite direction from where she was standing. They were facing away from each other.

"Kids..." Happy tried, but she didn't allow it.

She went to get the suitcase, discretely drying her eyes. "We need a plan. Any ideas?"

"I can't call my friends because he's tracking their phones," Peter looked around and pointed at Happy. "Give me your phone."

"My—my cell phone?

"Yeah."

"Okay..."

"What's your password?" Peter tapped on the screen.

"Password."

"No, what is your password?"

"Password, the word. Spell that: password."

The young heroes stared at him. "You're the head of security and your password is "password"?

"Yeah I— I don't feel good about it either."

"Do you also give the security numbers of your bank account to street thieves?" Cat inquired.

"I don't like you when you're being sarcastic," He muttered.

"I'm pretty sure no one does," she replied uninterested.

"They're in London," Peter announced.

"London, okay," Happy went up to the cockpit.

"I need a suit!" He added.

"Suit?" Happy smiled and pressed a button on the controls: a pocket-size lab was revealed behind Peter.

The teenager went in and looked around. "Okay, um— bring up everything you have on Spider-Man... Yeah, open that! Okay, no, no, no..." Happy stood next to her, both staring at Peter with a funny look in their eyes. "What?"

"Nothing," Happy patted her shoulder. "You two take care of your suits, I'll take care of the music."

"Back in Black" blasted through the speakers, Peter looked up with glee.

"I love Led Zeppelin!"

Cat chuckled, this time sounding a bit like her old self. "You're unbelievable."

"Hey," Peter pointed at the console. "Want an upgrade?"

"I'm good."

Peter insisted, maybe he was starting to feel bad about the things he'd said. "Are you sure? I remember how you begged Tony for a new suit every Christmas..."

"Don't worry about me," she pointed at the suitcase. "Santa paid me an early visit."

Next Chapter—>

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