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dramaticnerdwithanxiety11 · 4 years ago

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Mother(Ghost) of Mine but Danny's parents come home

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24227953/chapters/58372924 <THE FIC THIS IS BASED ON

@kattythingz @laylatheqhitta

btw I read like.. three chapters so far of the story but i'm already in love and I suddenly realized that you didn't include Danny's parents and wanted to write a oneshot of them showing up and just being really confused as to why Danny is suddenly a mom. Also, I modified Dan so he was slightly more physically a kid, so he looks like.. sixteen or something, instead of thirty.

(I also originally submitted this post to you directly katty so sorry if you get it-)

Clockwork was the reason Danny's parents had been gone for two months on a 'hunting trip' and Danny was just now finding this out when he flew to Clockwork Tower to try and figure out what the hell he was going to do when his parents are coming home today and he has two kids.

"What do you mean you know?!" Danny shouts, waving his arms around, easily more dramatic in his panicked state. He was trying to get this solved quick as well, since he left Dani and Dan in Jazz's care.

"I mean exactly that, Daniel, I know they are coming back," Clockwork replies with a sigh, "I am the one who sent them away in the first place, I gave you time to be accustomed to Danielle and Dan, and now that you are you should be able to handle this as well," Danny went pale.

"Please, Clockwork, send them away again, I don't want my kids getting.. getting," he waved his arms around again, "Experimented on! Mom and Dad will probably pull guns out the moment they see them and shoot before asking questions!"

Clockwork turned away from the looking clock and towards Danny, "Trust me, Daniel, you can handle this. And if you can not, I can go back," he shrugged.

"Clockwork, I don't know about you, but I still don't want to watch my kids getting blown to bits, even if I know you can fix it," he ran a hand through his glowing white hair, "Please, Clockwork," he begged, not even entirely sure what he was begging for. Does he want his parents to never come home..?

"No, Daniel, I am sorry but you must deal with this alone," he turned back towards the looking clock, "You may want to be heading back," Danny looked at the glass and his eyes widened when he realized his parents will be pulling in in a couple minutes.

"You're a jerk, Clockwork!" he shouts as he shoots off out of the tower and towards home.

-=-

Dani is pacing, Jazz is guarding the Lab (where they're waiting for Danny to come back) and Dan is biting at his nails pretending he isn't about to combust with panic. They had their initial panic when Danny came flying (literally) into Dan and Dani's room (They had modified the guest room and completely forgotten that hey, it'll be kinda weird when Danny's parents come home and find the guest room turned into a bedroom for two ghost kids they don't remember having).

He was panicked and he gave them absolutely no further explanation than, "I'm going to clockworks, Jazz is in charge, she's waiting for you in the lab, do not leave the house!" and then he phased through the ground.

The kids, reasonably, panicked and ran down to the lab, hoping to get further explanation. Jazz is biting at her nails, staring at the closing portal. She turned when she heard them coming down, made a relieved noise and ordered them to stay in the lab while she stayed by the door.

It very much felt like some big bad murderer was coming to kill them, Danny and Jazz trying to protect them.

"Mom!" Dani shouted and Danny came through the portal, he turned towards them and let out a relieved sigh, flying over.

"Jesus christ," he pulled Dani into a hug, looking at Dan over her shoulder and seeing the jealous scowl on his face. He switched kids after a moment, "Okay, you guys need to stay down here a bit longer, okay?" he told them once he pulled away, "Don't make any noise, don't try and leave, just stay put, I'll come get you when I can," Dan and Dani turned to look at each other worriedly, before silently nodding to Danny, "Okay, I promise everything is going to be fine," and then he switched back to his human form and ran up the stairs.

"Jazz, they're gonna be pulling in in a few minutes," he warned, closing the lab door and locking it in the hopes it would slow down his parents if they tried to go down there.

"Clockwork isn't going to help?!" Jazz exclaimed, "What the heck does he think we're gonna be able do?"

"Not sure, but as it turns out he is the entire reason they left in the first place, and his only backup plan is to just bring me back in time to before-," he glanced at the door, having turned around so they could do their best to look casual for their parents.

Jazz turned with him, minutely confused before her eyes widen, "Seriously?! Oh my god," he ran a hand through the part in her bright orange hair and Danny nodded with a dramatic sigh.

"It's fine, we can, tell them before they have a chance to do anything rash,"

Jazz gave him a look, "Your first idea wasn't to hide them?"

"Where the hell would I hide two eleven year old ghost kids? I don't have an accessible lair and they sure has hell don't wanna leave," he exclaimed, Jazz went to respond before the loud rumbling of the Fenton RV interrupts them.

They both turn to the front door with wide eyes, look at each other, then sprint to sit on the couch and look as casual has possible. Three minutes later Maddie and Jack Fenton come barrelling through the door carrying as many bags as possible.

"We're home!" Maddie calls into the house, before turning and spotting them on the couch, "Oh! You're already downstairs," she laughs, "Can you help us with bags?" she request. Both kids give a varied response that implies a yes, give each other a worried look, glance at the lab door before smiling fakely at their parents and rushing outside to grab things.

"Are you sure you wanna tell them?" Jazz asks hushedly as they speed walk past their parents and begin grabbing bags, Danny nearly forgetting he's supposed to be a frail teenager when he went to grab half of them at once.

"What if I tell them.. I convinced you to come with me into the ghost zone, and I accidentally got stuck in something and it popped out two ghosts that were really similar to me, and they just kinda came home with us and now they call me mom?" he explains his fake story on the spot, fleshing it out slightly in his head.

Jazz hesitates slightly, beginning to walk towards the front door, "You could try..? And if It doesnt work-?"

"I get clockwork, or like, tell them the truth," he shrugs, "I don't know, Jazz! I just want to avoid them killing my kids," he feels the need to throw his arms in the air, and almost does, before remembering he's carrying a bunch of bags and would end up throwing them. Jazz give him a small smirk,

"You just called them your kids," she teases, and Danny lights up in blush.

"Shut up," he groans dramatically, kicking the door open the rest of the way so they can get through. Only to see his parents missing and the lab door open, "Oh shit," he whispers, before dropping the stuff in his arms and rushing down to the lab, "Guys?" he calls anxiously, looking around the lab. The ghost portal is open, Jack is looking at it confused and Maddie is already working on something at the table, it looks like Dani and Dan must've gone through the portal when they realized Maddie and Jack were unlocking the door.

"What's up, Danno?" Jack calls, reaching to close the ghost portal before turning to him.

"Uhhhh," Danny leans back, "Uhm, me and Jazz got the bags, what do you want us to do with them?" he asks, doing his best not to sound like he's covering something up.

Maddie turns to him, "Oh! Sorry we'll come up, don't worry about it," she smiles, setting her stuff down. Her and Jack make their way upstairs, Danny stepping out of the way and getting his hair ruffled by his mother. He follows them up and glances at Jazz who's standing by the door.

'They're fine' he mouths and she gives him a weary look before smiling at their parents.

"Hey, uh, mom? Dad?" Danny calls, fiddling with his hands, they pause reaching for their bags.

The two adults share a look before Maddie asks, "What's wrong, Danny?" Danny fiddles with his hands.

"Uhm, so, me and Jazz went into the Ghost Zone and we ran into these like ghosts that looked kinda like Phantom but they were uh, not him and they somehow ended up just hanging out with us and we brought them home and this was at like the start of you being gone on your trip so we kinda just kept them here in the guest room and now they call me mom so I have ghost kids now and I really don't want you to kill them," he spits out, nearly choking on his words a bajillion times and pulling in a lungful of air once he's done.

Maddie and Jack stare at him for a second, seeming to not register what he just said before it's suddenly them bombarding him with questions, How far did you go? What was it like? The ghosts are friendly? Why did they take to you as a maternal figure? Was it safe? Were you safe? Where are the ghosts now?

"Mom, Dad!" Jazz shouts, causing the already reeling Danny to flinch, their parents pause their questioning before apologizing quietly, "We don't know where they are, we left them in the lab but they fled when you came downstairs,"

"I can go get them," Danny says quietly, quickly escaping the situation, he hears Jazz stop them from following him.

-=-

"Dani, Dan!" Danny shouts into the ghost zone once he's gone through the portal, floating in his ghost form. He doesn't get a response, so he calls again, moving further into the zone. Eventually he spots the bright white flames of Dan's hair and hears Dani's crying, "Guys?" Danny calls one more time, both of them jump up from what was very close to cuddling and turn to him.

"Mom!" Dani shouts, flying into him and sending them both spinning a few feet into the zone, "What happened?!"

"We saw Maddie and Jack come downstairs and left," Dan explains quickly, his voice a low rumble.

"It's alright, that was smart, but you guys have to come back now," Danny lets go of Dani, "You're going to meet my parents, and if they try and kill you we can live in the Ghost Zone for the rest of our lives," he laughs slightly, but it does nothing to ease the fear in both his kids' eyes.

"Okay, whatever," Dan grumbles, crossing his arms and floating over towards them, somehow seeming smaller than his usually bulkiness, Dani does nothing to mask her fear, and just nods slightly, curling inwards probably unintentionally.

Danny gives them a reassuring smile and begins the trip back to the portal with them.

-=-

Upon returning Danny made sure to transform before he went into the portal, so as to not give away another secret on top of his unintentional kids. It takes a minute for Dani and Dan to follow him, but eventually they do and they find Maddie, Jack and Jazz on the other side.

"Mom, Dad, this is Dan," he gestures to said character, "And Danielle, they're, uh,"

"We're Phantom's clones, who's first name is Danny so we've got similar names to him," Dani pipes up, talking a bit too fast for it to seem like anything but a lie but Jack and Maddie don't ask any more questions.

"And you.. aren't going to kill us or hurt us?" Dan asks, closest to the portal and refusing to come any closer in case they decide to try and kill them.

Maddie and Jack seem incredibly hesitant, before Maddie assures them, "No, of course not sweetie," she smiles gently, Danny looks back at his kids, "Uhm, you guys have been living in the guest room?" she asks, the kids nod, "Well, then I don't have to make you a room at least," she smiles awkwardly.

Dani and Dan's eyes widen significantly, "We can stay?!" Dani exclaims, flying higher into the air in excitement.

"Well, of course! You're like.. our adopted ghost grandkids!" Jack exclaims, throwing his arms out. Dani squeals excitedly.

Dan floats up next to Dani, "Do we have to call them grandma and grandpa?" he whisper to her, and Danny snorts when he hears it, covering his mouth. Dani giggles as well.

"I mean, I might," she shrugs, keeping her voice low, "We already call Jazz auntie," Dan nods in response, keeping his eyes trained on the adults.

"Thank you," he calls to them, "for not killing us," Danny and Dani both give him wide eyes, neither of them hear him act so sincere very often.

Maddie and Jack just give him a smile before Jazz claps her hands, "Who wants to make Pancakes?"

"Oh, no! Last time you let them make pancakes you burned down the kitchen!" Danny exclaims.

"But, mom! We fixed it in the end!" Dani whines, "Plus Jazz will be helping!"

"Absolutely not! If anybody is making pancakes, it's gonna be Jazz and Jazz alone," he decides, "I will not have you two burning the house down right after you get accepted into it,"

Maddie giggles quietly at the fact that Danny of all people is really acting like a parent, and how casual the fact he's the mom to two ghost kids is for him and Jazz. Jack smiles fondly as they argue, Dan and Dani beginning to pick on each other's cooking skill, Jazz giggling and Danny looking absolutely exhausted.

It's a happy ending, and that's all anyone ever needs.

#fanfiction #fic #Danny Phantom

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someone-worth-racing-for · 4 years ago

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Hi 🤗 so I have this theory about Daniel and I’m really eager to know your opinion, of course only if you mind to share :) I also get these somehow off/off vibe from Daniel, I don’t really think he is as nice or chill as he shows. I’ve been thinking why he can’t really succeed this year (no doubt, he has talent) while Lando is just flying with the same car, and I think it is because he is absolutely no team player and bc of that he doesn’t fit in. Carlos and Lando had always shown respect, gratitude and honest appreciation for the team while I don’t see any of it from Danny Ric. F1 is not just about the athletes and their talent and about a good car in my opinion. And I think this is what Daniel gets wrong. I somehow have the feeling after some of his interviews, that he expects that a team works for him and not him working WITH THEM together. I think this is what really was different with Carlos, and that is why Lando is the absolut King of McLaren now. We got to see how a big family this team is and I’m kinda sad that Ricciardo just stands out.

Oh and I can’t finish without some Carlando 🙈: I can’t help myself but imagine, how Carlos said to Lando, that from now on he should take care of the others at the Team bc Carlos was always so thoughtful of them (engineers should eat the food they were trying in Japan etc etc) and Lando just doing the maximum effort now, all the media stuff everything. Carlos taught his little Cabron well 🥺🥺

Of course I’m willing to share my opinion to that topic, especially when you ask so nicely, anonym 😊

I mean, first of all I’m not the biggest Daniel fan, I just don’t really like him or at least not that much like other – I think you have already known that before, anonym, but I even tho he is definitely not one my favourites, I don’t think that Daniel is someone who only pretends to be someone he actually isn’t. I think that the way he shows himself to the world or better what we are able to see from him, is real. I’m sure he is not always that big smiley, loud and funny guy, he also has other sides, but I really don’t think that it’s just an act. If so, he is a really good actor, since he is like that since the begging of his F1 career, I guess.

Going to Daniel’s missing success and performance this year – first, I actually still don’t know too much about F1 and all those things and knowledge that comes with it, so if you want to get a professional answer to your questions, you should better ask someone else, but of course I will still try, but remember it’s only my opinion/my thoughts and I really don’t say I’m right, it’s just what I have heard/read and what I’m thinking about this all here.

I mean, first of all Daniel is new in the team and it seems to be normal to struggle in the first time until you get to know the car better and you are able to understand it and handle it to finally get back to your old, performing self. I think Daniel and Seb are pretty similar at the moment. They still try to figure out everything, while their teammates are already used to the team and car. Lando and Lance already exactly know what to do to cause the car to make those moves they want or how far they can go with it, which the new ones still need to learn and find out. Obviously Carlos seems to be a little exception here.. (LUCKILY!)

So, I think that’s the first point why Daniel’s performance is how it is so far. The second point I think has been explained by Lando during the last press conference. I wasn’t aware of that before (like I have said – I focus more on the drivers, not on the sports itself), but it makes sense to me. Lando has said that Daniel maybe also struggles, because he is used to/prefers it to have a car, which is made for him. You know, what I mean? I’m pretty sure McLaren hasn’t made a complete new car just for Daniel when he has just joined the team and they hadn't known back then how he will perform, because they also had to think of Lando, the one who was already with them for two seasons and who will probably be their future. So it would have been first unfair from team to create a car only for Daniel’s skills (like F1 every cares about something being fair..) and if you ask me, it would also be stupid and very risky for them to do so, since he is the new driver in their team.

So Daniel has to live with it that he probably hasn’t got everything he has asked for and that’s why he is maybe still struggling with it. My boyfriend has already told me the same about Seb a few times, because he is the same like Daniel here (I think Lando has also mentioned that in the press conference). It really doesn’t make neither Daniel nor Seb a bad racer, even the contrary, because if they would have a car, which performs like they want, I think it would be pretty hard to beat them. It’s just the if, you know. Because they obviously don’t have that car, at least not at the moment.

But I guess that’s just the sport. Either you get what you want or you have to try to work with what you have got and I’m sure Daniel doesn’t like it how it is at the moment either, but he probably also can’t really help himself. He just has to keep going. It depends on him, how long he wants to try it and of course also the team (he has a three-year-contract or?).

But I’m sure that also the McLarens for the next few years won’t get built according to Daniel’s wishes, especially since we got to know about Lando’s new contract last week. If one of the McLaren drivers gets a car according to their skills, it will probably be Lando (if anyway), but I’m pretty sure it won’t be Daniel. I mean, think about it – it would make zero sense to give Lando not the best possible car, since he is performing the way he does so far. McLaren would only harm themselves with it and I think it wouldn’t bring them forward one bit. They just have to focus on the better driver and at the moment it is definitely Lando and not Daniel, even when he is more experienced and like many would say maybe also more talented.

I really also don’t know if I’m right here, but back in 2019 when Lando and Carlos have joined McLaren, they were both new in the team and maybe McLaren has found a compromise between the two of them and their wishes for the car and their skills. Maybe that’s why they have both been performing really great in those two years they have been teammates. They were on one level almost the whole time, their performances were always pretty close to each other, when not even similar, because the car was made for both, not only for one of them.

And like Lando has also said in the press conference, Carlos obviously is different compared to Daniel when it comes to that. Please, tell me if I’m wrong here again and it also kind of hurt me to say the following, but I think by now Carlos is already used to be the number two driver, to not be the team’s first choice. It definitely was so back in his Toro Rosso days and probably also at Renault. He had to take what he had got there and work with it. McLaren was different, if you ask me, there has never been a number one driver as long as Lando and Carlos had been teammates, or at least I haven’t been able to tell. But Carlos is definitely the number two at Ferrari once again right now, that’s out of question. And I actually don’t mean that in a bad kind of way – I mean, it’s obvious and actually also logical or? It would be the same as with McLaren – it would make zero sense to build the car around Carlos, their new driver, and not for Charles, who is already used to the car and who has also already won races for them. It would actually really be ridiculous if they would do so. Maybe that’s the reason why Carlos struggles less, because next to all the hard work he had already put into it (and I really don’t want to say here that Daniel or Seb aren’t hard workers), but maybe it’s really because he is already “used” to not have a car for his abilities and just trying to make the best out of his situation and the car he has got. You know what I mean?

Carlos and Daniel are pretty different when it comes to that and both types aren’t bad nor perfect. I mean, if Daniel should ever get the right car, he could become a world champion, but if he won’t get that soon, he probably also won’t ever become a world champion. And if Carlos should ever feel that comfortable in a car that isn’t made for him to even really become a world champion, then it’s pretty great for him, but I think the chances aren’t that big.. But he will be able to collect good points for the team, maybe even winning races in his career and be the best of the rest, but will it last to be the best in the end?! 🤷🏼‍♀️

So, but finally back to your actual ask, anonym – I really don’t know Daniel good enough to say if he is a team player or not. I think the biggest difference between Carlos’ relationship to Lando and Daniel’s to Lando is, that the two of them maybe don’t even have a relationship at all. They are probably only teammates and actually there is really nothing wrong about that, because in the end of the day, they only have to be teammates and no one should expect from them to become friends. Maybe that’s the reason why it maybe looks a little like Daniel isn’t a team player, but I think compared to what Carlos and Lando had, no one would look like a team player.

Daniel probably only does HIS job and not also Lando’s – I don’t mean that Carlos has done so, but I also can’t see Daniel staying in the garage to watch his teammate’s race after a DNF/DNS and support him or to even give him tips and share data (as long as McLaren doesn’t tell him to do so). Daniel’s job would have been done for that day, so he would probably don't see a reason why he should stay and “be there” for his teammate. And again, it’s actually okay like that, because that’s what they are there for – racing, doing their jobs and nothing more.

I always say that I’m too soft for this sport and if you ask me, I would also say that it shouldn't just only be about money and who has the most, but yeah – that’s obviously how F1 works sadly.. Also, I could never be a racer, because I would probably instantly start a friendship with my teammate and I would probably also cry if I would hear said teammate swearing about me on the team radio – I’m just not made for it at all. But at the moment it really seems like F1 is all about money, even tho Lando and Carlos has also showed us, that it can be different (their friendship/teamwork) and that this difference can also work, but that doesn’t mean that every teammates have to get along that great, as long as it doesn’t harm the team and the results.

Lando and Daniel are doing what the team expects them to do – they are teammates. Not more, not less and it’s okay that way. What the fans have expected from the two of them is another thing. I know many have thought the two of them would get along easily and they probably even do, but not in the way the fans had hoped for.

Many had hoped that those McLaren challenges will go on like they had while Carlos was still with McLaren or maybe get even more, and funnier content, but it seems like the contrary is happening. And if I’m serious, I think that maybe Daniel has told them, that he isn’t willing to do some kind of challenges. I don’t want to say because of his age (Daniel is not a grandpa), but it’s a fact that Daniel is 10 years older than Lando. So maybe he really wants to only focus on his job and don’t do such challenges. I really don’t know if it had really happened like that, but maybe – who knows..

But yeah, Lando has really used his chance to show the team and everyone else what he is able to do, when he feels comfortable in the team and car and I’m really happy to see him succeed like that. He really deserves his seat in F1 and the new contract. I’m actually pretty proud of our bub 😊

Just give Daniel some more time to get used to the team and the car, who knows what will happen as soon as he has found his confidence at McLaren?! Even tho I hope at the same time, that Lando keeps that amazing performance, since I’m supporting him.

Oh, and yes of course – some Carlando!

I can so picture Carlos laying his hand in a brotherly way on top of Lando’s shoulder and telling him, on the day he had left the team “You belong to the big boys now, cabrón. You have to watch out for team and show them and everyone else your talent and what they would miss without you in F1. I’m sure you can do this. Take care of them and also of yourself.”

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sprog-writes · 4 years ago

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Read here, or on AO3! Word count: 3293 Possible trigger warnings: Danny’s death is referenced, as is that of other ghosts.

Enjoy!

He let himself fall to the ground, phasing through it and stopping himself just in time not to facepalm on sewer water.

“Ghost or no, I’m not getting that on myself” he muttered out loud. He was sure he had lost his parents, he didn’t think they would follow him into the sewers.

But apparently he thought wrong, as he heard the metal sound of the manhole getting opened a couple of feet from him. He started flying again, turning invisible and phasing slightly through the ground once more, ready to flee if necessary, but he couldn’t help but stay to look at them, hoping to see… he didn’t know what, exactly, but he didn’t want to miss it. He thought maybe they’d let something slip, or at least he’d see their new tech in action.

He saw them look his way, scanning their surroundings, most likely in search of his presence. They walked around for a bit, with Danny on their trail, before deciding to split up, his father going back on the streets where they came from and his mom staying in the sewers walking around.

“Jack, dear, everything as expected?” he heard his mom suddenly say. They were probably talking via intercoms, having upgraded their basic equipment over the years, as well as their ghost hunting tech.

‘What does that mean?’ Danny wondered to himself. He didn’t hear the response, but something told him he had better run away from there, far from her. As soon as he actually moved away and phased through the concrete and was back on the street, he was met by his father’s eyes looking directly at him, a smug smile on his face.

Danny looked at his hands to make sure he was still invisible and as he found nothing, he shot a questioning look to his dad, before turning the other ways and flying up to run somewhere safe -or at the very least, safer than there-, instead he found himself face first onto a ghost shield, tumbling back a couple of feet and turning visible again.

“Great…” Danny muttered out loud and found himself asking his dad “Can curiosity kill the cat, if the cat already died?” His father looked at the boy confused, obviously not understanding the contest of Danny’s joke and why it was absolutely hilarious. At least, to Danny it was.

‘Not the time for jokes!’ he thought as he turned intangible again to escape towards the sewers, but as he hit his face against the shield again, he realised that it went all the way around.

He saw his mom cheekly smiling at him before turning around and going back the way she came from, most likely to meet with his dad.

He floated back up, sitting on the street with his arms and legs crossed, and pouting.

“Pouting? Really?” his mother’s voice caught his attention, but he refused to look at her. Getting out of those things was annoying and he really didn’t want to be vivisected by his parents. Or dissected. He was technically a ghost, but also not really, and ghosts are not dead bodies so which one would be more correct? As he wondered his mom continued talking to him “What are you? 5?”

“I’ll have you know” he pointed at himself with his thumb “I am almost of age” Danny announced.

“It’s not like you’ll actually age past 14, ghost” his dad intervened “you’re a ghost!”

Danny stayed silent for a moment, looking at him and then floated to his eye level “Astute observation like alway, Jack” it was always weird having to refer to his parents with their first names, but after a good almost 4 years it became second nature, even a little hard not to mix it up and call them by their names when he was their son, and ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ when he was Phantom.

His dad seemed to take his obvious sarcasm as a genuine compliment and smiled proudly, as his mom shook her head and put a hand on her husband’s shoulder.

“You’re coming with us” as the words left his mom’s mouth, his mood worsened, the air getting colder by the second. His parents visibly noticed. He never meant to do it, but it was hard to control how much cold he emitted, especially when in distress. Some sort of defense mechanism, Sam had once offered as an explanation.

While he was floating, his parents took the opportunity to slide the bottom of a ghost cage under him. Danny recognised it; it was made of ectoranium, impossible to phase through for any ghost. Or, well, half-ghosts, as it were. How his parents got their hands on it, Danny didn’t know.

He sat back down, the same position as before, pout ever present on his face, and the rest of the cage appeared around him.

“You gave up easy” ‘almost too easy’ was left unsaid, but clearly implied. She was wary of what she probably believed to be unusual behaviour for the ghost child, and really. Who could blame her?

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I could’ve gotten out of here, anyway, right now” Danny shrugged, but keeping his face glowering, eyes just a tint of toxic green too much.

“Contrary to popular belief,” he decided to add, as his parents started lifting the cage -complete with its own ghost shield- to carry him to the familiar RV “And by popular opinion I mean, specifically, your opinion” the halfa turned to glare at the two adults holding his temporary prison, no real malice behind it “I am neither dumb, nor do I want to hurt humans!” he huffed, having had this conversation with his folks too many times to count.

Danny realized that carrying him in a metal cage was not going to be a good experience, the RV being pretty far away from his point of capture, so he started floating a bit. Not too much to hit the metal roof, but enough to take off the weight of his ecto-body.

A thought entered his mind, so he ignored his dad’s questioning look, probably in relation to his act of altruism towards his capturers, to ask “Why a cage?” he didn’t really expect an answer, and when neither of his parents answered he let out a heavy breath, a little disappointed.

Then, Danny heard his mom sigh and saw her shake her head as she asked for clarification “What do you mean, ghost?”

“Well, isn’t a cage a little… I don’t know… primitive? Couldn’t you have captured me with one of your Fenton Thermoses?” to Danny it seemed more work than it was worth. The Thermos would contain him and he would be much easier to carry.

“We wanted to keep you under observation” his dad butted in, making Danny turn to look at him.

“What if I just turn invisible? Can’t really observe me if you can’t see me” he smirked as he thought of turning invisible just to piss them off.

But his dad kept smiling, and even without checking, he was almost certain that his mom was doing the same. They had found him before, when he was invisible. Ergo: they had something to track him down with.

His own grin was wiped off of his face as the realization of them being several steps ahead hit him, as he began assessing their tech, everything they had with them, everything that could be new.

‘Man, I should really pay more attention when they talk about their new inventions’ he scolded himself for being so careless.

That was when he saw it. “Your goggles” he shook his head ‘The lenses are green, how did I miss that?’ Danny chastised himself for not noticing it in time.

“What is it? Heat signature? Ectoplasmic residue? A bit of both?” The look on their faces was one of confusion and mild astonishment. His dad opened his mouth, but before he could utter a word, probably about to give Danny an honest response, his mom answered him “We won’t tell you how our weapons work. It would be giving you a way to work around them” she glared at him, a silent threat not to try anything stupid.

“So I was right on the money. It’s a bit of both, isn’t it?” he put his hands down, floating a bit more to put himself in a more comfortable position “Man, you guys are good!” he chuckled, then sighed loudly when his eyes landed back on the cage’s bars.

“Well, I’m taking a nap” a yawn escaped his mouth before he could catch it, watering his eyes a bit “Wake me up when you need me” he rolled to the side and, using his forearm and hand as a makeshift cushion, he closed his eyes, hoping he could drift off to sleep.

But his peace was short lived, as he heard his mother groan not more than a few minutes later. He opened one of his eyes to look at her, and as lucidely as possible addressed her.

“What?” he asked.

“You can drop the act, stop trying to pretend you’re human”

“Maddie, I don’t know if you noticed, but it’s about…” he made a point to look at the sky, as if assessing the time. He could, if he wanted, with just a bit more time. But not at that moment “ass o’clock in the morning!” he emphasized his point by turning around and looking the other way “I’m tired and I want to sleep. So” he yawned again “if you do not require my services” he said, with as much of a posh english accent he could master “I’m going to take a power nap”

It seemed that his parents really didn’t want him to sleep, as his attempt to slumber was once again interrupted by his mom speaking, as the cage was lowered in the backseat of the RV “You’re a ghost” she simply stated.

Danny stayed silent for a second, then sighed. He had been doing that a lot that day “And you’re a human” he hoped she would understand that stating the obvious wasn’t going to help her with whatever she needed from him.

“You don’t need to sleep” she stated, once again, as if it was an undeniable, scientific truth she gathered studying ghosts, and not a prejudice developed after years of conjectures.

Danny gave up on trying to catch some shut eye. He would have to take a nap during lunch the next day, because at that point he was sure it was going to be another all-nighter. He stayed laying down, with his back towards the cage’s floor and his hands behind his head, still floating a little. It made him feel more comfortable, as a ghost, to be above ground instead of touching it. He thought it had to do with the change in weight that came with his body changing from meat to ectoplasm, but he couldn’t be sure.

He closed his eyes, but didn’t try to fall asleep, as his dad started driving “If I wasn’t already dead, I’m sure your driving would kill me” he complained to himself. His breath hitched, as the vehicle swayed all of a sudden, the motion causing a startled noise to exit his mouth and his eyes to open.

“Why do you put that much effort in seeming human? It won’t work with us” his mom didn’t even turn around to look at him. Danny wouldn’t lie and say it never hurts to be treated like that from his parents, but he knew they would change their point of view in a heartbeat if he revealed himself. After all, he had lived it.

But he never did. The cons had always outweighed the pros, the pain he would bring them to see what they unconsciously did wasn’t worth it. They would fret, and worry, and blame themselves for everything. Danny didn’t want that. He didn’t want to see the look in their eyes when they realized how much they had involuntarily hurt him.

“What do you mean?” he tiredly decided to ask his mom.

“You know what I mean,” his mom replied, completely useful. Danny raised an eyebrow at her, awaiting clarification.

She sighed “I mean” she said harshly “the breathing. The saying you want to-to- to sleep!” she sounded utterly done with the whole situation “I don’t understand what benefits you get from keeping up the charade, seeing as it won’t work” she unfatised the last words, making it clear for Danny that they didn’t buy whatever they thought he was selling.

He looked at her, closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled “Do you want an actual answer you will listen to? You will consider what I say, even if it doesn’t align with what you think you know about ghosts?” he knew they weren’t going to. They were stuck in their way, too obsessed with being right to even consider that something was different, twisting every bit of evidence they got to fit their beliefs.

His parents shared a glance. His dad had seemed more willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. He never wanted to prove that ghosts were evil -after all, why would someone wish for inherently evil things to exist?- no, he just had always wanted to get rid of those that were, and for a while it was all of them. But a lot of things happened over the years, he met a lot of ghosts that didn’t fit the mold they created with speculations.

His mom, Danny knew, was the same. But she was also in denial. She didn’t want her entire worldview to change, because the unknown was scary.

‘Wow’ Danny thought ‘I’ve been hanging out with Jazz too much’

He saw his father smile and turn to look at the road in front of him, as did his mother, but she wasn’t smiling. She had her arms crossed and looked at Danny from the rearview mirror.

“We’ll humour you” she simply stated.

‘Well… It’s a start’ Danny wasn’t going to look a gifted horse in the mouth.

“Have you ever considered I’m not faking it?” that elicited a chuckle from his mom “Yeah, sure” she said sarcastically “You don’t need to breathe, why would you?”

“I’m not sure” Danny answered honestly “I’ve thought about it, though” he, Jazz and Sam had that conversation once, when he was still scared of not being completely human. When he hadn’t quite accepted everything that had happened.

“That’s your answer? ‘I don’t know, but I’m not faking it’?” his dad said, incredulous.

“I can give you some theories I have,” he offered. He won’t let that afternoon of oversharing insecurities with his -at the time- wanna-be-psychologist sister go to waste.

“Sure” they said at the same time, his dad with a curious note to his voice, while his mom just sounded wary.

“Well…” he thought about where to start. He could pull out the big guns, but was it really worth it to lay bare his doubts in front of his parents? He decided that maybe it was, if he could change their opinions like that.

“The most probable thing is I do it out of habit” he shrugged “even though I don’t need it, I’ve been doing it for 14 years, so it’s hard to just… not. Somethings I catch myself not breathing and I panic, before remembering that it’s not a big deal” which was something that Tucker always made fun of him for, but after it always got a good laugh out of all of them.

He waited for his parents to say something, but they didn’t comment, so he kept going “The other theory I had for a while, which was mostly before I stopped aging, was that it was a subconscious thing” he heard his father mutter under his breath “Aging?”

“Yeah, I kept aging for a while, but I don’t know if you could actually call it that. I think that since I died before finishing puberty I… Involuntarily kept changing my body to look like I was still, somehow, going through puberty”

“What made you stop?” His father seemed much more interested in all that than his mom, who just looked skeptical. He answered anyway.

“I noticed that ghosts weren’t supposed to change. Seeing how young Youngblood is, how long Dorothea has been a ghost even though she’s been one since the 12th century made me realize that” it had been a little painful, Dora had actually been very supportive and helpful about it. Clockwork tried to help, but he didn’t really understand with his whole ‘being all ages at the same time’ thing he had going on.

“I was in denial. About the whole ‘being dead’ thing. When I accepted that it was it. I wasn’t going to get a driver’s licence. I wasn’t going to be old enough to drink. I wouldn’t graduate. That’s when I stopped aging” it wasn’t a lie per se, sure. It was true that he did age for a while before accepting the fact that, partially, he was a ghost and nothing could change that. But he would still be able to achieve some of the things he wouldn’t be able to do if he was fully a ghost.

Sure, he had given up on being an astronaut, certain that he couldn’t pass any medical exam, but at the end of the day, he could go up to see the stars every time he wanted. Basically everything else on his list was doable.

“So,” his mom’s voice brought him back from his daydreaming “you’re saying you remember your time being alive?” she sounded like she hadn’t believed a single thing that came out of his mouth, but like the sole thought of something like that being possible was intriguing at the very least.

“Some ghosts do, other don’t” he yawned, a very high-pitched sound coming out of his mouth at the end “Word of advice though, it’s generally considered very rude to ask a ghost anything to do with their time as a living person or, and I cannot stress this enough, about their death. Unless they’re the ones starting that kind of conversation” Danny decided to warn them. He knew some ghosts wouldn’t do anything if someone asks, but they’d most likely get their day ruined. Others could just try to harm them for such queries.

“And why is that?” His mom’s tone of voice made that question sound like a little bit of a challenge, but Danny wasn’t kidding. It was a sensitive topic, one that even he found difficult to talk about, even with his friends.

“Because happy people don’t become ghosts” his voice was flat, void of emotion and low enough that for a second he wondered if his parents even heard him.

Then his dad spoke up “I’m sorry kiddo. Must’ve been awful” his mom looked like she wanted to argue, but didn’t really have it in her heart. After all, ghost or not, he still looked like a teen, and everyone would be heartbroken when confronted with the idea of someone so young, not only dying, be having such a horrible life, or dying in such a traumatic way that they become a ghost.

Youngblood came to Danny’s mind. He didn’t think he ever wanted to know.

The rest of the ride was suffered in silence by both parties. Despite his desire to rest, Danny couldn’t fall asleep after having had such a conversation with his parents. He wasn’t delusional enough to think that one simple conversation was going to fix things, but he still hoped that it could be a start.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #jack fenton #maddie fenton #danny phantom fanfiction #dp fanfic

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redhoodedwolf · 5 years ago

Text

A Week-ish of Sterek Fics

Hello all! So I recently accidentally fell back into my AO3 bookmarks and have fallen down a rabbit (fox? eh?) hole that leaves me entirely unproductive and sleep deprived but full of feels, so I thought I’d share all of the fics that I’ve rerereread thus far in the last week (it’s over 75 guys) (since friday 😬). Each has the fic name and description, length, and year pub/finished because it makes me feel old. Also all of these are complete because I am weak and cannot handle WIPs.

Note: I’m not adding any tags to the descriptions, so make sure to read the tags and ratings on each fic first before reading!!!

Teaching Derek How to Text (and Other Shenanigans) by neilwrites | 9K | 2018

yo derek Who’s dying

---

I see your 'Derek doesn't have a phone' line and raise you 'Derek has a phone, he and Stiles text all the fucking time.'

The Hoodie by ladiekatie | 1.7K | 2017

“You shouldn’t be able to see me. What are you?” The guy in the hoodie says, the ball of energy grows hotter under Derek’s chin.

or the one where Derek is just trying to talk to the guy at the back of the subway.

Nothing You Could Say by SylvieW | 13K | 2016

Stiles’ second year of college is not working out as he planned. He rarely sees Scott, his job is exhausting, and to get home after his shift, he has to walk at three in the morning. Nearly getting mugged is the icing on the cake, but luckily a gruff stranger is there to rescue him. But now Stiles can’t seem to shake the feeling that he’s not alone in the dark.

Old Traditions, Werewolf Edition by Footloose | 3.6K | 2014

Stiles does not work his Omega ass off to attract frat boy Alphas. Absolutely not. He's at college to get his degree. If he's crushing on an Alpha who never crosses the lines of propriety, well, no one needs to know, right?

Stiles Stilinski, Boyfriend Extraordinaire by MereLoup | 14K | 2016

“Beacon County Sheriff's Department, this is deputy Mahealani speaking.”

“Oh thank god!”

“Stiles?”

“I, uh, I need some advice.”

“Advice?”

“Yeah. So, hypothetically, say you met your boyfriend’s mother and sister for the first time ever. Completely by accident. In the grocery store. And they convinced you to help them make a dinner to surprise aforementioned boyfriend when he got home after work. What would you do?”

Danny paused, and then, “Stiles, you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“That’s not the point! And I said hypothetically.”

“Stiles...what are you doing right now?”

***

Stiles never imagined he’d be in Derek’s kitchen cooking a surprise dinner with Derek’s family while they waited for Derek to get home from work.

Partly because their visit was a complete surprise.

But mostly because Stiles didn’t have a boyfriend.

Or even know who Derek was.

But he’d already come this far and Papa didn’t raise no quitter!

third time's the charm by stilinski | 4.9K | 2016

Sure, Stiles has a mark on his chest that belies the depth of his feelings, but it's not something anyone can see unless he decides to show it, or unless werewolves suddenly have x-ray vision.

Which—worrying. And probably-definitely-likely a possibility – if it was to manifest anywhere, Beacon Hills would be top of the list.

Stiles almost turns around there and then to ask Scott how his visual acuity is but is stopped by the teenager at the register finally looking up long enough to spot Derek. Stiles watches her mouth fall open and her expression—studiously blank but with a faint flush rising in her cheeks—is one Stiles knows far too well, particularly when faced with Derek in all his snug-fitting-jeans, v-neck-wearing, canvas-jacketed glory.

Stiles is pretty sure he invented that expression.

Ukochany by VincentMeoblinn| 34K | 2016

Derek comes home to find a mail order husband and two amused betas waiting for him. When he realizes their prank was far from harmless he ends up saddled with a husband who barely speaks English but insists Derek is the love of his life. He's also determined to win him over.

only if for a night by stilinskisparkles | 3.2K | 2016

“I’m Stiles,” he says breathlessly.

“Derek.”

“Derek, hi, do you—”

Derek doesn’t let him finish, kisses the words right out of his mouth.

Hypothetically by alisvolatpropiis | 6.6K | 2015

Stiles holds his hand up to shield his eyes from the sinking sun, its orange-yellow light reflected infinitely across the vast, calm ocean. As utterly stunning as the sunset over the Pacific is, especially while floating leisurely on a surfboard a few hundred feet from shore, it’s a mere backdrop that pales in comparison to who he’s looking at.

Derek Hale, whose eyes are their own oceans that Stiles feels like he’s been floating on since the first time they met. The older man’s eyes are as ever-changing and colorful as the sea they’ve spent the day on, a palette of greens and blues filigreed with gold around the pupils. And if that weren’t enough, the rest of Derek is also transcendentally exquisite: high, arching cheekbones and a chiseled jaw, although that particular perfection is a bit obscured these days by his ever-thickening beard, night-black like his hair, nearly shoulder-length but almost always knotted in a messy bun at the crown of his head.

sincerely, derek by stilinskisparkles | 8.1K | 2016

September, 2009

Hi Stiles, it’s Derek. Derek Hale, from space camp. I’m writing this in English because my teacher Ms Grady said I had to write about my summer, but I spent my summer with you, so I decided to write to you, instead.

Please write back. Love from Derek.

Pancakes and Murder by Amethyst Shard (AmethystShard) | 14K | 2012

Stiles' life has been a roller-coaster filled with awesome highs and terrifying drops ever since his best friend Scott got bit by a werewolf. The ride hits a bump when a dead body turns up at the Hale house (again) and Derek's only alibi is Stiles. Which would be fine, except that Stiles' dad is the sheriff and has no idea his son has been hanging out with the former fugitive. Awkward.

The Witching Hour by MellytheHun | 8.2K | 2016

The radio host AU no one ever asked for but I have written anyway because sometimes when DJ’s play several sad songs in a row, I worry about their mental health and then this AU was born

Derek Hale, The Hero Beacon Hills Needs (Series) by MellytheHun | 11K | 4 Works | 2016

This series started with this Tumblr prompt, "it’s the middle of the night and i’m walking home alone in the dark and there’s this guy following me and he’s starting to gain on me and i found this phone booth with a lock on the door and i tried to call my best friend but my hands were shaking so badly i accidentally dialed the wrong number and i don’t even know you but help me” au

Stiles is walking home when he's stalked by a dangerous stranger and an even more dangerous stranger comes to his rescue.

Fly a Little Faster by mirrorkill | 32K | 2013

Everyone knows when you go back in time, you shouldn't step on an ant, just in case you accidentally kill your own grandparent or something. But what happens when you go back in time and, uh, accidentally interrupt the one event that apparently made the Grumpiest Alpha in Town into a ball of mindless manpain?

Well, if Marty McFly can do it, so can Stiles Stilinski. All he has to do is get Derek and Paige to fall in love before he gets pulled back to his own time. And before he makes anything worse. That's easy as pie, right? Right?

You are the Moon by skoosiepants | 10K | 2012

Stuff Stiles doesn’t like to deal with first thing: hot, moist dog breath in his face, a cuddly werewolf creepifying his perfectly normal morning wood with shades of bestiality, and his dad holding his service revolver up against the skull of his bedmate, never mind the fact that his bedmate could possibly be a vicious unhinged rogue omega.

Baby, you should stick around by ElisAttack | 9.5K | 2016

Derek's driving along a stretch of highway when an unusual sight makes him slow down, the engine of his old pickup rattling in protest.

There's a kid standing by the side of the road.

It's the middle of nowhere, the goddamn apocalypse, and this kid is standing by the side of the road with his thumb pointed skyward. Like he's playing at being a hitchhiker.

Or the one where Stiles thinks he's all alone in a post-apocalyptic world, until he meets Derek.

Don’t Be Anything But Okay by skoosiepants | 4.8K | 2016

“Oh my god.”

Ben pops open the car door and says, “Please don’t embarrass me, Dad.”

Stiles flaps a hand, still staring at the magnificent sight before him. There are glistening arm muscles and a sweaty tank top and then the vision bends over and holy god. He has to look away; it’s too much to take in all at once, he might swoon.

OR-

Stiles has a teenager and Derek has a plant nursery.

covalent bonds (Series) by HalfFizzbin | 9.2K | 3 Works | 2015

Derek's a hot nerd. Stiles is a nerdy jock. A LOVE STORY FOR THE AGES.

Disappear Here by AgnesBlue | 28K | 2016

Stiles was quiet. “What?” Derek said again. “My first heat is coming up soon,” Stiles said at last. Derek closed his eyes, disinterested. He knew where Stiles was going with this. “I was thinking…hoping, really,” Stiles said. “Maybe you could stay with me during that time.”

AU in which wounded in a fire that killed off his entire family, Derek wants nothing more than to be left alone as he finishes off his senior year in high school. That all changes when omega Stiles Stilinski asks him to help him through his first heat.

Money Isn't Everything by TroubleIWant | 6.3K | 2015

Stiles slurps at the dregs of his iced hazelnut latté, pretending he doesn’t need a refill just yet. Supporting your local business is great and all, but Isaac charging $5 for a coffee with syrup is highway robbery. He’s already cut his expenses down to the bare minimum, and splurging for foofy drinks is not in the budget. Except that he can’t really help himself: black coffee is plain gross. Maybe I should plan on marrying rich, he thinks darkly.

Or,

Stiles has a huge crush on the super-hot guy he always sees at Isaac's coffee shop, but when he finds out that they guy's an unemployed orphan he has to decide if the difference in their financial situations is a deal-breaker, or just a bump on the path to true love.

So Shed Your Skin and Lets Get Started by halfhardtorock | 21K | 2014

He's sixteen and in the woods on the wrong side of the town-line and he's so fucking fucked.

He knows he's not supposed to run, they teach that to you in preschool (don't run from a Were, back away slowly and walk with care), but they never told you how it would feel, standing alone in the dark with your heart beating in your throat as those glowing eyes tracked you from the shadows.

you and me (and my best friend) by trilliastra | 1.5K | 2016

“Come on, I shouldn’t be the only one having orgasms. Let me help you out.”

“Uh –” someone clears their throat and Derek jumps, startled, hits his elbow on the wall and curses, “am I interrupting something?” Stiles asks, cheeks red.

Derek looks up, sighing. Of all the people working in this damn school, Stiles had to be the one to catch him and Erica talking about sex. It’s just Derek’s luck. He spills juice on his pants? Stiles walks into the classroom; Laura starts yelling at him about something that happened when they were kids? Stiles is right behind them, waiting for his coffee; Boyd accidentally throws a ball at his face? Stiles is at the E.R. when Derek gets there with a swollen face and a broken nose.

The universe hates him.

Easy Alpha by interropunct | 4.6K | 2012

Easy A/Teen Wolf AU. Wherein, Derek Hale is the high school hussy, Jackson and Scott really need to learn to use their inside voices. And, contrary to popular belief, everyone is still a virgin.

Body Language by LadyMerlin | 2.3K | 2016

In an alternate universe, soulmates exist, and they can communicate with each other by writing on their own skin.

The catch? No one knows their soulmates' name. It could literally be anyone under the sun, and Stiles just doesn't have that kind of patience.

chantes une nouvelle chanson pour moi by pr1nc3ssp34ch (dallisons) | 13K | 2013

Stiles Stilinski has been at Hogwarts since his first year, okay. That's six years of experience. He knows how Hogwarts works, how it operates. He's not quite an expert or anything, but he's pretty damn sure he knows this school.

So why the hell have they waited like a million years to start taking transfer students?

And why is he the only one who can't get a French date?

C’était Salement Romantique by Swing Set in December (swing_set13) | 2.2K | 2015

The Triwizard tournament is really about fostering wizarding relations. Ask anyone. Just not Stiles, he’s busy French kissing Derek.

Hogwarts really should teach some linguistic classes.

The Long Way Home by MyChemicalRachel | 19K | 2016

Stiles didn’t plan to sleep with his best friend’s dad. It just kind of happened. And then it happened again. And again. And again…

All that once was, remains. by countrygirlsfun | 8.8K | 2016

Life is only a long list of constants.

Being a part of a royal family, being a prince, has been a constant in Derek Hale’s life since he was born and swaddled in silk cloths.

Wherein Derek finds himself in love with a stable boy who is more than he seems.

Driver's Education by arrowofcarnations | 9.2K | 2014

This is the moment he realizes he can never have Derek Hale – that he was stupid to ever think he could. Maybe their moms made them hang out when they were little and maybe they’ve managed to get along these past few weeks, but they’re too different. Derek’s cool, he plays a million sports, he drives a Camaro, he’s friends with Jackson. Stiles doesn’t fit into the equation and he never will.

Letters by ericaismeg | 8.9K | 2014

“Stiles, this is getting ridiculous. Can you please do something about it?” Lydia demands. “Do anything. I don’t care. Go up and kiss him, ask him to prom this year, write him secret admirer love letters, whatever. Just do something.”

***

OR: The one where Lydia sets up an email account for Stiles to "confess his love" for Derek. And as fate would have it, they also end up becoming friends in person at the same time.

We're One of a Kind (Like Dip Da Dip Da Dip Do Whap De Dobby Do) by orphan_account | 3.5K | 2012

Derek is your classic greaser—with a leather jacket, a hot rod, a hot bike, and a duck butt. Genim “Stiles” Stilinski a total fream—he’s too cool to be a poindexter but he’s so far from a cat that Derek almost feels bad for him. All that’s missing in this love story is some oddly perfectly timed musical numbers.

do it for our country by HalfFizzbin | 936 | 2012

In which Derek tries to play it cool but Stiles is totally hep to his jive.

Fast Times At Clairemont High by MonsieurBlueSky (MyChemicalRachel) | 6.9K | 2016

Stiles is stoked when he's chosen for an undercover operation to take down a drug ring. He's less stoked when he discovers that he'll be posing as a seventeen year old student at the High School where Derek teaches.

It's Too Early For This by thepsychicclam | 4.9K | 2016

Derek loves his job at the coffee shop, especially because Stiles comes in for coffee before early Saturday morning lacrosse practices. The problem is that Derek is too shy to do anything about his crush, and the situation is not helped by the rivalry between the basketball and lacrosse teams.

A Tentative Truce by Inell | 8.5K | 2016

Stiles and Derek have a long standing rivalry that has extended beyond the Beacon Hills High School theater department to every other area of their high school lives. With the announcement of the winter production, their competitiveness has to be set to the side so the musical can be successful. With a tentative truce in place, Stiles unable to ignore his growing infatuation for his co-star.

we keep living anyway by bistiles (alis) | 10K | 2015

“Oh, damn, my manners. What an example I’m setting, am I right? I’m Stiles Stilinski, but call me Stiles, please,” Stilinski extended his hand for Derek to shake, and Derek took it, feeling the solid grip and the long fingers around his own hand. For some reason, he blushed on the spot.

“Derek. Derek Hale. Call me just Derek,” He answered, still holding Stiles’ hand in his.

By the look on Stiles’ face, he felt much the same as what Derek was feeling, whatever that unnamed reaction was.

“And this little barnacle attached to me,” Stiles continued, letting go of Derek and flushing pink, “is Leigh.”

Stiles is struggling to raise his only child all alone, while dealing with financial problems, a new job, and Adrian Harris, the worst boss in the world.

But then he meets Derek Hale, a dreamy co-workers, and what is a terrible situation becomes considerably less grim, when he has Derek by his side.

Don't Judge a Derek By His Cover by captaintinymite (augopher) | 4.5K | 2015

Stiles doesn't care about the rumors surrounding Beacon Hills High School's resident bad boy, Derek Hale. In fact, he thinks the rumors are total crap. Of course, being secretly in love with someone has a way of clouding one's judgment.

However, he knew for a fact that Derek liked books. So when the two paired up for a final English project, he was excited (but also a little terrified).

But you know what they say...never judge a book by its cover. The same goes for people.

sometimes fate is like a small snowstorm by thepsychicclam | 8.1K | 2014

In a coffee shop two days before Christmas, Derek meets Stiles. Despite neither of them being interested in relationships, they spend an unforgettable evening together, but then part ways. During the following years, Stiles competes in the Olympics, Derek tours the world - and neither of them forget. Then twelve years later, two days before Christmas, Derek finds Stiles in that same coffee shop.

aka a kinda sorta serendipity au

should the pillars of memory topple out of my reach by bleep0bleep | 4.3K | 2015

If Stiles didn’t know any better he’d say that look in Derek's eyes is adoring, but he does know better, and also amnesiac Derek thinks they’re married. Which is the only fact he hasn’t questioned so far, which is the weirdest thing.

Just High School by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 4.5K | 2015

Derek and Stiles have been dating for some time.

The only thing is, nobody else really knows.

Tis The Season Baristas Fear The Most by stilinskisparkles | 5.4K | 2012

Scott is hands down the worst barista Derek has ever hired. But it's Christmas and apparently that means something to some people.

Mind Reading Can Be Such a Pain in the A** (Series) by Fanhag102 | 21K | 2 Works | 2015

Derek Hale can read minds. If he could have chosen a mutant power for himself instead of being given one by random, genetic happenstance it's safe to say mind-reading would not have been his 1st, 2nd, or even 96th choice.

Maybe if he'd gotten the power of invisibility he wouldn't be sitting in a senior Economics class next to a hyperactive kid with a buzz cut who won’t stop thinking about dicks.

A Criminal and His Lucky Charm by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 5.9K | 2015

Please forgive yourself.

For what?

For allowing yourself to let someone in. For letting me love you. I didn’t deserve it, but that wasn’t your fault. Derek, please, just do it. Please— please don’t drag this out.

Derek Hale valued Stiles above everyone—everything. And Stiles betrayed that. In the end, he figured if he had to die, dying in Derek’s arms wasn’t so bad. He could at least have that.

the things you said when we were the happiest we’ve ever been by foxerica (ericaismeg) | 4.8K | 2015

Derek and Stiles meet again at their high school reunion.

From Dirty Paws by Surreal | 9.9K | 2014

Stiles finds a wolf in the woods. Well, it's more like the wolf finds him. Either way, he's happy to have a new friend in his otherwise boring social circle.

flawless by bibliosexual | 4.9K | 2015

“I know you and I are, like, werewolf-married, but dude, if I ever met Lydia Martin in person . . . All bets are off, is all I'm saying."

It's not like Stiles really means it (does he?), but it still makes Derek’s hands clench into claws on the steering wheel.

"Yeah, if," he says, and keeps his eyes on the road.

Those Hidden Places by Mimiminaj | 18K | 2015

He doesn’t belong here.

It’s the first thought that crosses Derek’s mind as he watches the new inmates spill into the cafeteria. The kid stays close to the wall, eyes scanning all the exits and skimming over the tables. If he’s trying to get a barring for his surroundings he’s doing a shit job of it, something made completely evident as Lewis shoulders him from behind and the kid almost jumps to flatten himself against the wall.

Stiles is the new inmate at Derek's prison. He really didn't expect to fall in love with the mouthy little brat.

Baseball Pants by thatfamoushappyending (betsytheoven) | 2.8K | 2015

Scott shows Stiles a picture of the new pitcher for the Dodgers, and Stiles is suddenly an avid Dodgers fan.

While You Were(n't Quite) Sleeping by mikkimouse | 13K | 2015

Scott’s mom, Melissa, had given Stiles the basics on Derek’s condition when he’d first come over here a month ago. Derek had been here six years, the only survivor of a horrific house fire that had killed the rest of his family. It had left him burned, half his face puckered with scars, and he’d been in a catatonic state the entire time. Stiles couldn’t even begin to imagine how awful that would be, being trapped in your own body for years on end, all alone.

Stiles had an inkling of how much being alone sucked, anyway.

(An AU in which Derek is the one who was trapped in the fire, and then in the hospital, based on a set of pictures from littlecofiegirl.)

dhale25 by ericaismeg | 8.1K | 2014

Derek Hale is an actor in Los Angeles, Stiles is a fanboy in Toronto. When Derek posts his Snap Chat username on Twitter, inviting people to add him, Stiles gets brave and adds him.

They develop a snapping relationship, and it gets intense.

I Settle for Long Distance Calls by iamursforevrmre | 4.3K | 2014

Derek is the guy who Stiles met on some random band page on MySpace because Derek made a ridiculously hilarious comment and with a spurt of confidence, Stiles had messaged him to tell him just how hilarious it was and they got to talking. Derek is the guy that made a FaceBook account just to talk to Stiles on the messenger so they could talk more when MySpace was slowly dying out. Derek is the guy that changed his text message plan to unlimited when he finally sent Stiles his cell phone number. Derek is the guy that has been on the phone with Stiles at any and all hours through the day.

And Derek is the guy that Stiles is in love with.

You look like my next mistake by Vendelin | 15K | 2015

“So, are you dating someone new? Someone who doesn’t mind that you’re frigid?” Kate cocks her head to the side, smiling as though she just asked him about where he bought his shoes.

His entire body sighs in defeat as his shoulders grow square. Just as he opens his mouth, someone comes up to stand beside him, snaking an arm around his shoulders. When he glances to his side, expecting to see Isaac, his brain seems to malfunction. Because it isn’t Isaac. It’s Stiles Stilinski, the lacrosse talent of the year, a senior who Derek has seen multiple times from far away, but never ever talked to.

In which Derek is a nerd jock, and Stiles is a frat guy, and Derek falls for him even though he knows he shouldn't.

Coaches Cupcake Coffee House by ChildOfTheRevolution | 4.8K | 2013

Danny looked at him as if he were crazy, ‘It means he wants to ride the dick Stiles.’ He said slowly, as if talking to the mentally insane.

‘Ride the dick, my dick?’ Stiles asked weakly.

‘Figuratively speaking of course, Derek looks more like a topper to me. And you, my friend, are a twink of the most twinkiest standards, but I’m not one to judge.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Stiles admitted, finding himself in a weird crouch-like stance that he apparently now adopts when he’s overwhelmed about finding out Derek Hotcakes wants to bone him three ways to Sunday.

Gladiator AU ( Series) by HaleHole (SweetFanfics) | 9.9K | 2 Works | 2013

He looks up at the door and waits. He hopes that whoever it is, they will be go easy on him. Werewolf he might be, with superhuman healing, but that does not mean that he will not be sore the next day. And he is scheduled for a fight.

Let it be someone easy to please, Derek hopes. Someone who will be quick to take their pleasure and even quicker to leave. He keeps hoping this as the door is pushed open. A voice murmurs a quick set of instructions to whoever has hired him for this session. It is cut off half way through by a familiar, impatient voice that makes Derek strain against his bonds. -- Rome based, Gladiator AU

Stilinski's Home for Wayward Wolves by owlpostagain | 35K | 2013

“At least your puppies knock first,” Stiles snorts. “Here I thought their alpha raised them to be well-mannered.”

“There’s a sign,” Derek responds stiffly.

Stiles, whose curiosity outweighs even his hardest of grudges, abandons his chilly façade of nonchalance in a heartbeat. He jumps right up and all but pushes Derek out of the way in his effort to get to the window, and sure enough when he leans outside there’s a laminated strip of cardstock duct taped to the vinyl siding:

DON’T FORGET TO KNOCK Stiles gets cranky when we scare him

---

Or, in which Stiles Stilinski moves to Beacon Hills for his junior year of high school and accidentally adopts a pack of teenage werewolves.

Theory of Overprotective Canines by rosepetals42 | 11K | 2015

Stiles is totally looking forward to living alone in his super cool apartment off-campus. He is. He is also very excited to bike to school every day, ready to set up an awesome game room, and definitely over his crush on Derek Hale. Completely over it.

Or at least he is until Derek decides he's moving in with him. And then turns out to be the perfect roommate. And then starts attending all his classes. As a wolf.

This is not going according to plan.

Hot for Teacher('s Aide) by linksofmemories_archive | 8K | 2013

“He invited you to his apartment.”

“To do a lesson plan.”

“Yeah and to probably lesson your plan while you’re there,” Scott said, waggling his eyebrows.

“That made no sense, but you still managed to make it sound dirty,” Stiles said. “I’m impressed.”

The healing touch by devilscut | 96K | 2015

Stiles loses his temper with the rest of the pack when they all make excuses not to volunteer to help their Alpha. Deaton has instructed that for the next 24 hours Derek can't use his hands after he seriously injures them in a magical entrapment. Seeing the emotional hurt that Derek's selfish pack has inflicted on him when they argue and try to get out of it, Stiles volunteers to stay and then proceeds to give the rest of them a verbal ass-kicking. He then takes care of his friend, the Alpha, Derek Hale, while trying to work out what his feelings are towards the werewolf.

Quit Dragon Me Around (Seies) by WonderWolf | 17K | 3 Works | 2015

Stiles makes the mistake of taking Derek’s sword and now the grumpy werewolf seems determined to stop him from stealing and landing himself in jail.

Stiles is not pleased. He’s also starving.

(Or the one in which Derek has good intentions, but little understanding of how Dragon biology works. He just wants the cute mole-speckled kid to be safe). -----

“Five meals, Scott. Derek Hale has stopped me from eating five meals. I can’t believe he’s really trying to kill me over stealing his sword. That’s so petty of him. It isn’t like I meant to steal it,” Stiles complains.

“You kind of did mean to, dude,” Scott adds unhelpfully.

“But you don’t understand, Scott. It-”

“Just smelled so good? I know, you’ve said that like fifty times over the past two weeks,” Scott says.

“This is the equivalent of him stealing my lunch money, right? Thanks to him, I didn’t have a meal this week. Or last week! He’s a bully, is what he is. A nice smelling, douchebag of a bully.”

You'll See Me Again by matildajones | 10K | 2015

Stiles is standing there in his uniform, hair long and hands behind his back. There’s a blush on his cheeks and he can barely look Derek in the eye.

“Hey,” he whispers. He’s wearing the medal Derek had presented to him.

Derek stares. He doesn’t think he’s breathing anymore.

Stiles is the soldier who saved Derek and brought him back home. He doesn't seem to care that Derek's a prince or that he's a little bit broken. Derek falls, quick and sure, but it's not easy knowing that Stiles will soon have to return to the war.

Thousand by ericaismeg | 4.2K | 2014

“Seriously, Erica, I could tell him a thousand times in a thousand ways and he's never going to understand what I mean.”

“I thought I told you to spell it out to him,” Erica says. “Derek's has trust issues. I told you this would be difficult.”

Stop Crossing Oceans by greenleaf | 11K | 2015

“There are no absolutes, Scott! No hard rights or hard wrongs! The world doesn’t fucking work that way and we can’t afford to think like that, because people are going to die! We signed up for that the moment we got involved with all this!”

“We? We?” Scott hisses. “Don’t you think you? Don’t forget that you’re the one who dragged us into that forest the night it all started, Stiles. So if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours.”

Something inside Stiles cracks, so strong and so deep that he practically hears it.

The Wolf that whispered into Stiles' Heart by ElStark | 9.9K | 2015

Basically the Union of the prompts:

Mute!Stiles + Wolf!Derek + Soulmates/Mates AU

“Don’t you have a pack?” Stiles asks him –by then he had discovered that the wolf was in fact a male wolf –“I mean, wolves move in packs, right? Lone wolves don’t make it on their own. I read it yesterday.” He says while they’re both sprawled on the fallen leaves in Stiles’ secret-thinking spot in the woods. Derek licks his face, and Stiles laughs. “Is that your way to tell me that I’m your pack?” Derek licks him again on the nose, making the boy’s face scrunch up, “Ugh. Gross, dude!” he wipes his drool covered face with his sleeve and then gives the wolf a pointed look, “I’m not a wolf, you should have noticed, you know, I don’t exactly have fur and I don’t growl and I don’t have glowing eyes…” He says leaning in to look them closer, “Are you even supposed to have those kind of eyes? I couldn’t find anything about wolves and glowing eyes on the internet..” The wolf snorts.

Aftermath by GhostwithShotgun | 11K | 2015

Stiles suffers from PTSD and insomnia after the events with the nogitsune. He has nightmares, gets at most one hour of sleep every night and has daily panic attacks. He tries his best to hide it because they all have their own troubles and he doesn't want to burden his friends further.

Meanwhile, Derek has made a habit out of checking all pack members every night to make sure they're alright.

Cross a Canyon (with a broken limb) by theroguesgambit | 18K | 2015

“You never graduated,” Stiles says, just to say it. To test it out in the open air. That's... huh.

Stiles spends his senior year battling troll-gremlins, taking on an unexpected tutoring job, and definitely not falling for a certain sourwolf (even though everyone else seems to think he is).

It's a Schlong Story by floatingstark | 33K | 2015

"Do you like him?"

"Of course I do, he’s great!"

"Then what is the fucking problem?"

"My dick!"

-or-

Ex-Porn Star Derek Hale has a lot of issues but Ice Cream Parlor Owner Stiles Stilinski is not one of them.

Bad Dog Bakery and Café by Boom | 27K | 2015

Stiles saves an Omega from wolfsbane poisoning. Said Omega now won't leave Stiles alone. Stiles doesn't really have a problem with this.

Beat The Blues by lilpeas | 2.9K | 2015

Derek and Stiles have been childhood friends since the sandpit. When Talia realises Stiles is in love with Derek, she knows Derek has to stop seeing him: Derek’s a werewolf and Stiles is human. It can’t be.

But things never go according to plan.

Red Light's Already Off by orphan_account | 3.3K | 2015

Stiles isn't a hooker. He just plays one on TV.

Noteworthy Observations by LadyDrace | 3.7K | 2015

In which Derek recieves complimentary notes in his locker from a secret admirer, and though it turns out they weren't actually for him, things turn out pretty well in the end.

One Hale of a Sandwich by whatthehale | 10K | 2014

Stiles in bed isn’t really something Derek should be thinking about.

Ever.

Because the person who normally picks Lily up from school? Is Scott.

Lily’s other parent. And Stiles’s partner.

Not to mention the entire source of Derek’s current misery.

AKA, the one in which Derek thinks Scott and Stiles are in a relationship and that they want to threesome with Derek. Spoiler Alert? They aren't and they don't.

Choice by Omni | 8.6K | 2015

Derek knows what it feels like to not really have a choice, what it's like to be manipulated. He'd never take away someone's right to choose freely. The fear of even accidentally doing so is enough to hold him back from acting on his own feelings.

Stiles has never had a problem making his own choices, and fuck anyone who would try to tell him he can't.

(Or: Stiles gets bitten by a different alpha, but of course would prefer to have Derek as his alpha. And also just, you know, have Derek.)

Emergency Love by Kedreeva | 13K | 2012

Wherein Derek is a firefighter and Stiles is a paramedic, and they just keep meeting.

gave your smile to me by Sarageek16 | 4.7K | 2013

In which Stiles is a hooker (but not really), Derek wants to feed his skinny little body, and there is soup. Not necessarily in that order.

#sterek #eternalsterek #sterek fic #stiles stilinski #derek hale #fic rec list

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datawyrms · 5 years ago

Text

Electric Influence

Danymay2020 day 10- Corruption

It was easier to ignore the fact Danny should not have walked out of that portal alive. Tucker ignored any ‘shock’ his friend must have gotten would have been lethal. Sam pretended the scorching stench of flesh burning was only the ectoplasm of the portal. She didn’t kill one of her best friends on a dare.

He’d fallen out of there, after all. Cold, glowing and terrified once he had seen himself, but it was fine! He just. Stopped being that way. He breathed, his heart raced and his grip was warm when they hugged, so tightly as if they let go they’d be separated forever.

Did it have to make sense that Danny was somehow a ghost while also being human? So their friend had ‘ghost powers’. Powers that he struggled with, but they were there to help and support him. What kind of friends would they be if they didn’t?

Sam and Tucker didn’t seem to hear the low constant buzz that felt like it was trying to rip out from under his skin. They didn’t jerk away from him, or hesitate in helping as he started falling through the floor, even though at those times it was louder, more like something clawing at his ears and demanding his attention. He didn’t want to worry them, so he didn’t mention the noise. It did make it hard to concentrate. Tucker did manage to help him without knowing about the problem, though it had been a bit of a joke.

“I swear I’m not trying to fall through every floor in the school!”

“They’re your powers dude. Maybe try thinking loud thoughts?”

Loud thoughts had actually helped. If he tried screaming in his head, louder than that irritating low hum, his powers actually seemed to respond. They still went off basically at complete random, but he could at least stop the falling or the vanishing once he noticed it. It was awkward, but he’d take anything at this point. Tucker and Sam had convinced him that letting Mom and Dad know wouldn’t be good. They might think he was dead, or something like that. With how much they seemed to focus on ghosts, he really didn’t want to be their new ‘special interest.’

They weren't sure how to react when Danny became that inverted self again. The dead-no he wasn’t dead. His ‘ghost form’. He seemed proud that he had enough control to do so intentionally, so they smiled and congratulated with a few jabs about practicing not vanishing as often. They ignored the hissing voice in the back of their minds, insisting their friend was dead. Dead people couldn’t just stop being dead with two rings of light. The small spike of fear Danny caused when he was glowing was just because of the temperature drop. He was still their friend, he wasn’t acting like some out of control monster like the Fentons said all ghosts were. So he couldn’t really be a ghost. When the black haired boy suggested he might simply be half ghost, they latched on to the excuse, not thinking very hard on why their friend even thought that.

The never ending noise changed after he figured out how to switch between himself and the green eyed ghost form he’d gotten. It was less a meaningless irritating noise, now it seemed to vary and change depending on what he was doing. At first he figured it was just more noises he had to mentally ignore, but they started to be consistent. When it pitched low with a steady pulse it became easier to become invisible, not needing the mental shout to get his powers to play along. The times he unintentionally went invisible out of alarm also dropped, now that he knew if the weird energy scrabbling at his skin was making that sound, he could shout over it before it happened.

He still failed to catch it sometimes, the odd ectoplasmic song was just a constant background noise to him now. If he didn’t tune it out from time to time, he probably would have gone mad. It was more manageable now. When he became that second self, his ghost self, the crackling sound wasn’t trapped under his skin. More that he was wrapped in it, protectively swaddled in the noise that swung from beautiful to nails on a chalkboard irritating depending on his mood. The powers always came easier like that, as if being under his human flesh made it hard to exert his will on them. More surprisingly was when he managed to just instinctively do things. He had no idea he could fly, until he had started hovering because it ‘felt better’.

He didn’t really need to think too hard, or struggle to control anything with the sound outside. He could just relax and just do. His head pounded less as his capabilities broadened. In fact it almost seemed like planning too far ahead weakened him, or had him take the wrong choice. His hangups about being a poor ghost fighter led to so many unneeded hits against Bertrand, more so when the right answer came to him too late. The self doubt and shame was a weakness.

It was easier to be reactive, to let these instincts do as they will. After all, he was getting better at all of this, Sam and Tucker said so. Relaxing into the steady buzzing confidence felt right, and seemed to be working out fine. It was still part of him, it wasn’t something to worry about.

Danny was really getting the hang of this ‘being half ghost’ thing. That should have been a good thing, that they didn’t need to fish their friend out of walls or hiss at empty air to ‘show up’, but something felt off.

He’d stopped using his powers for his own gain. Sure, Tucker was glad his friend wasn’t casually possessing people after the whole Poindexter thing, but the slow shift from occasional ghost pranks to practically none was strange. Sam would say he was just ‘more mature’ now and didn’t want to blow his cover over something stupid. Yet even she would admit it was weird he wouldn’t brag to Tucker about sneaking into locker rooms he did not belong in anymore. He just ‘wasn’t interested’ in doing that sort of thing anymore.

More disturbingly he seemed to reverse that opinion shortly after the Freakshow incident. He slipped back to ‘before the accident’ Danny, more interested in space talk than ghosts, openly offered to help sneak them into a movie for free and seemed to avoid ‘going ghost’ as much as possible. Were they bad friends for not noticing Danny had practically dropped any ‘negative’ trait like being selfish or spiteful? Surely he had only been trying to ‘not be like Vlad’, or be like a comic superhero. After all, their friend slowly slid back to his new normal over a few weeks.

Sam didn’t tell Tucker that Danny had come to her one night, eyes wide with a strange mix of terror and exhaustion.

“He would have let you die! I-I broke free but I’m so, so sorry!”

“Danny, you didn’t do anything wrong. You broke free when it counted.” she reassured her friend, trying to ignore how fragile he felt as she forced the trembling boy into a hug.

He’d shaken his head. “I let him-I didn’t even realize-”

“You couldn’t help it! It can’t happen again, don’t beat yourself up about it.”

It was only weeks later that it occurred to her that Danny might not have been talking about Freakshow that day.

The sound was too much. His skin felt stretched tight simply containing his now ever present companion. Every movement, every action felt like this would be the one that would split him open and let the crawling screaming noise devour him whole.

Though it wasn’t really a noise anymore. It could talk. It had been named, though he wasn’t sure if he had named it, or the sound had named itself. He remembered the conversation, how Tucker had called him out for such a terrible alter ego name, but he couldn’t remember if he had answered back as himself, or if Phantom had done it. They were always influencing one another now, the ghost had practically trained him into letting it take control through the constant ghost fights. Danny didn’t know how to fight, Phantom knew almost nothing but. Of course it had made sense to just let the noise prompt and delegate his actions, of course it had been easier when he didn’t try to struggle control away with a half baked plan.

Yet apparently this throbbing pulsating thing wanted more than that. Being the hero that forced ghosts back wasn’t enough, because apparently Danny was misusing their powers. Danny was their weak link.

Didn’t his friends deserve better than some slacker? Didn’t he want to be the best he could be? He’d stumbled through fourteen years with minimal success, while the new self under his skin was practically a hero within a year.

It wasn’t a fair comparison, and he was only struggling so much this year because of all the ghost fights. Yet who’s fault was that? Who was the one who let them all here to put everyone in danger?

It was his responsibility to fight it. Shirking it just showed he wasn’t a very good human.

Their only real compromise was they couldn’t worry their friends. So Danny was still present in a way, a flimsy bit of cloth hiding who really was in charge a significant amount of time.

He had always wondered how Vlad could have gone off the deep end, to turn so violently on people who were once friends. Now he was fairly sure it was easy because Plasmius barely knew the Fentons at all, and warped Vlad into whatever best suited him.

His friends didn’t say anything about it. Maybe they liked him better this way, dragging them into adventure and danger because of ghosts instead of throwing out star charts and insisting on nights they needed to watch the skies.

Phantom was always happy to remind him that Sam and Tucker liked him better than Danny nowadays. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. Yet the shrieking in his ears was getting harder and harder to ignore.

The Master of Time broke him. His ghost half, his dead self, whatever Phantom was would no longer stand for Danny to put their friends at risk. He made a bad choice. He got all their friends killed. HE plunged the world into ruin by trying to escape his guilt! He’d asked Vlad to remove his humanity after all, and wasn’t Danny always insisting that was him? He couldn’t risk any of that happening, not when Clockwork gave them a second chance. The uneasy status quo was torn asunder as Phantom attempted to claim dominance over both forms by force, the static sound a shrieking agony, like knives being driven deep into his brain. He wasn’t needed, he wasn’t wanted. No one would know that Danny was gone. He was just getting replaced by a better version of him in every way. The one who didn’t almost drive the world to ruin over being an immature child.

He was a child! Of course he was! He wasn’t even sixteen, he was allowed to make mistakes. That didn’t keep the ghost from shoving him deep down, too convinced in his own way to even consider letting his other half do as much as blink.

The sound finally stopped, but he couldn’t even feel the pain that should have been put in his stomach, disconnected as he was from himself. Now he was the quiet humming nudge, aware and ever constant, but unable to act without permission.

He was fairly sure his sound was not like the electric hum Phantom had been. At least, he had no trouble ignoring him. He’d listen when talking to his friends and family sometimes, but that was it. The ghost eventually got to the point that Danny didn’t even have much to add. He already knew what to say, they were his friends and family too.

Maybe he was pointless. Trying to fight for control was exhausting, and even if he won there was nothing to do. Sam and Tucker wouldn’t know what he was going on about if he said he was trapped in his own body. Being split apart never seemed to go well, and his ghost self was vehemently against it thanks to Clockwork.

He had to just stay put and watch someone else live his life. Someone that was basically him, but not quite.

Yet as time went on, he almost started to believe Phantom. Maybe this was for the best. He’d never reach his own dream now. No one cared that Danny wasn’t actually Danny. They liked this one just fine.

He could feel the strange pressure that seemed to be trying to crush him completely. Yet it was warm and comforting instead of terror inducing. A warm weighted blanket that slowly squeezed ever tighter. He’d be whole again. Not the same, not himself. Assimilated, overwritten. Replaced.

He couldn’t bother to keep fighting it anymore. Besides, the ghost’s whole name was Danny Phantom. Maybe he was meant to have been devoured like this way back at the accident. He didn’t even need to bother to ask the ghost to protect his loved ones.

They were more Phantoms’ family now anyway.

#dannymay2020 #Danny Phantom #sam manson #Tucker Foley #my stuff #the angst train has pulled into the station #honestly this is such a good prompt #so many ways to do it #but i'm going with the obvious #i actually had a fanfic from While The Show Was Airing #that the one we were following the whole time was Phantom #and his powers going out of control/being more violent #was his HUMAN side waking back up #(i never finished it lol)#now you know the twist for a mystery fanfic you will never find :V

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darks-ink · 5 years ago

Text

Absurdism Chapter 1

Rating: Teen/K+ (a lil swearing, because teenagers, man) Warnings: - Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort Additional Tags: Sibling Bonding, Family Bonding, Alternate Universe - Halfa Jazz AU, Jazz makes friends

Chapter 1: Mirror Image [AO3] [FFN] First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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Jazz rolled her shoulders, shifting her backpack to lie more comfortably on her back. It resettled easily, and she kept up the pace as she walked back home. Sure, she could have asked Danny to drive her, but… well, she liked walking! The fresh air was good for a growing youth like her.

That, and Danny’s driving was either far too careful, or not nearly careful enough. And, quite frankly, she wasn’t very big on either of those.

So. She walked. It wasn’t like the school was that far from home anyway.

If she trusted her new powers a little more, she might consider flying to school instead. It would probably be faster, which would leave her with more time for studying. But, then, there was also the possibility of people seeing her, causing a ruckus. So, maybe not.

Whatever. For the moment it didn’t matter anyway. She could barely fly in her ghost form, and not at all in her human form. Well, not on command, at least. Only the occasional bout of accidental floating, although luckily that didn��t happen a lot. Not nearly as much as the partial invisibility or intangibility, at least.

If only there was some sort of guidance for this! She had gone through all books she could find, her parents’ entire ghost library, but she hadn’t been able to find even the slightest hint of this happening before. A human with ghost powers, a ghost/human hybrid… nothing. Absolutely completely nothing!

Hell, she had even tried the internet. Even if the online sources tended to be sketchier, there had to be something, right?

But, no. She hadn’t been able to find anything.

So she was forced to figure out herself. Alone.

Sure, she could tell her parents. But… But what if they didn’t believe her? What if they thought she was a ghost playing pretend?

Jazz knew her parents cared about her, about their family, but… she also knew how little they thought of ghosts.

As long as it wasn’t killing her, and it didn’t seem to be, did she really have to tell them? She was smart, wasn’t she? One of the cleverest in the school, despite being only 14. She was sure she could figure this out herself, somehow.

Besides, if she didn’t know much about ghosts, she was certain that her parents didn’t, either. They sure acted like they knew a lot, but Jazz was fairly sure it was based on nothing. For all their bluster, her parents hadn’t even seen a ghost.

And she? Well, she most definitely had. Even if the few animal-like ghosts hadn’t been anything too spectacular, she doubted her parents’ claims about them not being able to feel pain. The screeches of the Ectopi when she punched them sure sounded genuine.

Not to mention the two humanoid ghosts Jazz had encountered so far. Even if both seemed a little more inclined to pick fights that humans, that didn’t mean they were malevolent. They just… They just worked a little strangely! They wanted to do good things, but their methods were a little strange. That was okay!

Like the Lunch Lady, she just wanted people to eat well! And even if she had lashed out at Jazz, and at the human lunch ladies, she had calmed down well enough. Had listened to Jazz when she explained the intricacies of a healthy diet, and when Jazz promised that she would talk the school into a more varied menu, the ghost had agreed to hold off and watch.

So Jazz went and talked the school into a more varied menu. Which, really, someone should’ve done earlier. Even if she agreed with Sam about vegan options, you can’t just force that on people. Not everyone can live on a vegan diet, after all!

It took a bit of work, but thankfully Jazz had already found herself the teacher’s pet, so she managed to convince them. The menu was changed, the Lunch Lady calmed down, and then she went back to the Ghost Zone.

Which was, of course, the moment Jazz had realized that the Portal was always open. It would, constantly and without ever stopping, let through any ghost who wished to enter Amity Park.

And Jazz seemed to be the only person who cared. Her parents didn’t care, or didn’t realize how many ghosts might wish to pass through (or liked the challenge, maybe?), and her brother was still somewhat skeptical on the topic of ghosts being real.

The rest of the town? No one knew about the Portal. Not about what it could truly do, what power it held. What kind of danger they were in.

She couldn’t let that slide. She was the one who had turned the Portal on, after all. She was responsible.

So she had to stop any dangerous ghosts that came through. Ghosts like the animals that roamed the streets, now, and ghosts like the Lunch Lady.

And ghosts like Dora, who had come into the lab as a giant roaring dragon, but who had thankfully shrunk down once she had removed the necklace.

Dora, who had promised she would stay in the Zone, as long as Jazz gave her the necklace back.

Jazz’ core hummed in her chest, suddenly, and she paused. Cold energy gathered in her lungs, then puffed out as a visible cloud of ectoplasmically-tainted air on her next breath.

It was her ghost sense, she knew. But where? How?

Looking around, she couldn’t see anything that stood out. She didn’t have much experience with ghosts, she had to admit, but still.

Every ghost she had encountered, the humanoid and the animals, no matter their intelligence, they all shared a single behavioral trait. They all sought out civilization. The human ones, like Lunch Lady and Dora, had both come to Amity Park with a goal in mind. And the lesser ones, they all sought to terrorize people, all targeted the human population of Amity.

So why was this one hidden somewhere were she couldn’t see it?

Realization clicked, and she looked up.

Yes, there it was. So high up in the air that she could barely see it, a small blurry dot of black and white. Its glow hidden against the bright backdrop of the sky.

She eyed it pensively. It didn’t seem out for trouble, true, but that didn’t mean anything. Lunch Lady hadn’t either, but she still would’ve caused quite a bit of chaos if she’d been left to her own devices.

Even if this one just hung there in the sky… Jazz had taken responsibility for all ghosts in the city, and that would include this one.

Although she would admit, in the privacy of her own mind, that part of that reluctance might come from how high up the ghost was. So sue her! She didn’t even trust her flight to carry her from home to school, let alone go that high up! If it failed, if she was forced back to human form, she would surely die! She was just fourteen! She didn’t want to die, especially in a way so grizzly.

So she heaved out a sigh. As much as she didn’t want to, she had to go check it out.

Taking her eyes off of the distant ghost, she looked around. Ah, there! An empty alley off of this already quiet street. Perfect!

She ducked out of sight, half-crouched behind a dumpster to make sure no one saw her. Then she tapped into the ball of cold energy in her chest, which thrilled in response. It was still foreign to her, unusual and strange and--

But she had practiced with it, regardless. If these powers would be part of her life, now, she had to be in control of them. And if she hadn’t quite nailed that yet, at least she held enough control to shift to ghost form without too much hassle.

Blue-white energy crackled to life around her. Darts of light and electricity, spreading into a single ring around her waist. Then, splitting into two separate rings, flew past her body. Lit up the alley she was in.

Replaced her ordinary clothes with a dark purple jumpsuit, so much like her parents’ it was a little embarrassing. Her hands, and most of her arms, were now covered with long white gloves, and her neat shoes were replaced by sturdy white boots. An equally white belt around her waist, a hefty bag attached to one side, balanced by a Fenton Thermos on the other side.

The upward ring caught her hair, carrying it upwards into a ponytail. Dyed it purple, vibrant and unearthly, as its ends started flickering like fire.

As the rings faded, Jazz blinked her even sharper eyes as she refocused. Her senses had already gotten enhanced by the Accident, but they grew even better when she shifted into her ghost form.

Glass crunched under her boot, and she glanced downward, automatically. A ghost met her eyes, warm gold staring back at her, its glow brightening in shock.

Then she laughed, the startle wearing off, and her mirror image did the same. Oh, how embarrassing. At least no one saw that.

She focused her enhanced vision on the ghost, worried that it had left, but no. It remained in place, hovering high above Amity Park. Even now, she could barely make them out. Humanoid, she thought, and dressed primarily in black. The ends of their limbs were white, including what she assumed was their head. How match-y.

Still, she had stalled as much as she could. Now the only thing left was… to go up there. And, hopefully, talk.

Grasping onto her confidence, she pushed off. Like a jump, except gravity wouldn’t—couldn’t—drag her down. Just a continuous path upwards.

Her flight was a little shaky at first, but she managed to smooth it out a little. She was still climbing slowly, but that was better than rushing and losing control. She just had to get up to the ghost, but at least they didn’t seem to have noticed her. Didn’t seem to be trying to get away.

At this point, she was willing to take whatever she would get, really.

Now that she was finally getting closer, she could make him out properly. Because he certainly seemed to be a boy. A teenager at most, barely any older than her brother. The black she’d seen was just his outfit. He wore a jumpsuit in all black, of similar make to her parents’. And here she was, thinking they were the only ones who would wear such stuff.

Although, she supposed she was, as well. Maybe he’d gone and died wearing one of those for protection, too. Even if she wasn’t sure she counted, herself. She hadn’t died, after all. Just become… half-ghost? A human/ghost hybrid? Something along those lines.

Much like her own jumpsuit, the ghost wore white gloves, white boots, and a white belt. Unlike her, however, he wasn’t carrying a Thermos. Not that she had expected him to, of course! But it was kind of funny to see a ghost wearing something so similar to her!

Before she knew it she was approaching him, and he still hadn’t noticed her. His back was turned to him, his snow-white hair heavily windblown and messy.

His build was lean, and he looked a little twiggy, but there was no denying the muscle definition underneath his jumpsuit. She hadn’t seem any such muscle on the Lunch Lady or Dora, but then, neither of them wore such tight clothing.

If this ghost was human, Jazz was sure he could carry a mean punch. She might not know enough about ghosts to know if that carried over, but she didn’t feel like risking it. Even beyond his lean muscle, he might possess all kinds of ghostly powers.

Finally she drew even with the ghost, hovering right behind him. He still hadn’t noticed her. Hm, well. She was hoping to just talk, right?

She cleared her throat, then said, “Hey, what’s up?”

The ghost visibly started, flipping over his own feet in an attempt to turn to face her. He hung upside down, blinking wide green eyes at her.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” she assured him, raising her hands placatingly.

He blinked once more, then slowly started to rotate upright again. “It’s… okay,” he said, slowly, almost hesitantly. “I just wasn’t… expecting anyone to be here.”

Now that he was finally angled properly, she could make out his face. He was definitely a teenager, losing the softness of his youth. If she had to guess, he would’ve been sixteen, like her older brother Danny.

But that wasn’t the only thing about his appearance that reminded her of Danny.

There was… something about his face. About his facial features, the shapes and the angles and the proportions. It was almost eerie, really, how much this ghost looked like her brother. If she just imagined his hair black and his eyes blue, he might as well be Danny.

He was squinting at her, too. Eyes shifting like he was studying her.

She didn’t know how long they hung there in silence. Looking at each other in silence.

But she did know that it was the other ghost who broke it. He spoke up, haltingly, voice questioning.

“Jazz?”

And that just confirmed it for her, really. Because she hadn’t told anyone her name. The Lunch Lady and Dora both only knew her as Specter, her (improvised) alias for her ghost form. She hadn’t wanted to tell them her real name, and even if Specter was a bit of a stupid name, well. She couldn’t go back now.

So she was Specter to all ghosts, and ‘ghost girl’ or ‘ghost gal’ to the few humans that knew of her existence.

In front of her, the ghost of her brother frowned, his white brows drawn together.

“Danny?” she finally responded, thrown off. “How are you-- What’s going on?!”

#danny phantom #jazz phantom #dp fanfic #phanfic #dp fanfiction #jazz fenton #dark writes #absurdism

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holmesiswherethehartis · 5 years ago

Note

please write Zavier realizing hes gay for Danny if you're feeling it! this fandom had like 4 fics i need it😂

One Zavier x Danny fanfiction coming right up!! This is my first fanfic, so forgive me if it’s shaky, but I did my best. It’s long—I’ll warn you now—but hopefully that will keep you occupied!!

Part One

Warning: Contains Firestarter references and spoilers

Zavier traced his fingers along the map, following the path that he planned on taking to the city of Bern, Switzerland. He had toppled that tower in early November, and without a doubt, the Builders planned on putting up a new one. Last he’d seen of the Builders, they were still working their crimes in Bulgaria. Hopefully, they still had a week or two before any of them split off and came their way.

“You called a meeting?”

He cast a glance over his shoulder, then quickly returned to the map. “Edmund. You’re early. I was thinking we could meet up once everyone had a chance to eat. You know how Liddy gets when she’s hungry.”

Edmund whistled. “She got that from our dad. He had a temper.”

“He had a drinking problem.”

“That too. But you should have seen him when dinner wasn’t ready the minute he got home.” He walked over to him. “Anyway, what’s the meeting about?”

“I want to change our route to include going to Bern. I think we can get there before the Builders do, and maybe send some kind of warning to the clock mechanics union there.”

He was so concentrated on the map, it took him a minute to realise that the coughing sound behind him was actually Edmund laughing and trying to cover it up. He looked over his shoulder, and his suspicions were confirmed.

“What?”

Edmund shook his head. “It’s nothing. I think it’s a good plan.”

He hated it when Edmund did things like this. Ever since they were young, he had liked to hide things from Zavier. He was sort of like an older brother--but he was the kind of older brother that picked relentlessly on his siblings. Nevertheless, they got along very well. Zavier trusted Edmund more than just about anyone else. He usually told things to him before he even brought them up to Sally or Aunt Jo.

Still, he didn’t like that he was snickering at him. “What? What’s wrong with it? Did I make a mistake?”

Edmund couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. “No, not at all. I just think your sudden interest in mechanics and their unions and everything is… touching.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Zavier asked, even though part of him already knew the answer.

“I’ll let you figure it out. Use your brain for something besides staring at maps all day. By the way, I came in early because I needed to talk to you.”

Zavier raised an eyebrow. “About?”

“Mister Hart wants to know if he’s invited to this meeting. He says he’s well enough to walk.”

Danny.

Zavier doubted that he was, in fact, well enough to walk. Earlier that month, in the city of Prague, Danny had rescued him from an exploding clock tower--a situation that Zavier had gotten himself into--and he had taken the fall for it. Since then, Zavier had gone to check on him constantly, but he was rarely awake. On the occasion that he was awake, Zavier usually turned around quickly and left the room before Danny noticed, pretending that he’d walked into the wrong place. He wasn’t sure how to go about saying ‘thank you’ to the mechanic quite yet. He felt immeasurable guilt, and he was caught in a web pulling him in one thousand directions. Should he say sorry? Thank you? Sorry and thank you? He’d stopped blowing up clock towers completely, ever since Danny’s boyfriend, a very sweet clock spirit named Colton, had asked him to. But somehow, that didn’t feel like enough. What Danny had done for him was the kind of thing that couldn’t be repaid in a single lifetime.

Maybe he ought to take him back to London. The poor young man had already lost so much at Zavier’s hands. He deserved a break.

But giving him a break would mean that he would need to find a new way to figure out the secret of time. Meena had already claimed that she didn’t know it. Daphne scared him too much for him to go near her. It had to be Danny.

But Danny deserved to go home.

For some reason, the thought of him leaving made Zavier...sad. An image in his mind manifested of Danny going back to London and never thinking twice about the Prometheus. Whether or not that would happen should Danny go, Zavier was left in the dark. But he couldn’t get it out of his head. He would miss Danny. Yet, Danny probably would be better off back in London, unbothered by the thought of the Prometheus or any of the people on it. Him included.

It was as if he wanted to somehow give Danny everything, but the situation kept forcing him to take more away. Time after time, Danny saved him and gave him a second chance. One of those times--Zavier didn’t remember which one, it was somewhere in between talking with him on a bench by a fountain in Prague and seeing him as he floated in and out of consciousness in the tower--something had changed.

One of those times, he had stolen a glance at Danny for no reason.

Another time, the young mechanic had made him laugh.

Once, he’d been unable to sleep, and he’d been looking out over the sleeping city of Prague. Danny had woken up, too, and they both pretended to not notice each other. Zavier had curled back up on the floor and tried to fall asleep, but he hadn’t been able to. Maybe it was because he was so tired--but more than anything, really, he’d wanted to stay up with Danny and talk with him. Even for just five minutes.

Something inside him… wanted Danny to stay. It had nothing to do with time anymore.

Zavier wanted him to be happy. More than that, though--he wanted to be someone who made him happy.

Just like he did for him.

“He… he can come to the meeting if he wants,” Zavier replied. “If he thinks he’s stable enough to walk.”

Edmund winked. “I think he’ll be happy to see that you’re sticking up for unions like his.” Then, he left the room.

Zavier didn’t need a mirror to know his face had gone red. “What the hell--what--”

There was no use talking to the door, swinging behind his friend as he’d left.

Part Two

Just as Zavier had suspected, Danny needed help to even walk inside the meeting room. Edmund was helping him, supporting him on the back and allowing the young mechanic to drape his arm over his shoulders.

The second the two of them came inside, the entire dynamic of the room changed. No one else seemed to notice it, but Zavier felt it as surely as a change in temperature. He was no longer talking to his crew members about making a course change. He was taking a stand, of sorts. He was letting the world know that he was starting to care.

Maybe the entire world wasn’t listening. Danny was, and that was all that mattered.

He collapsed in a chair, and instantly, Zavier could see his muscles relax. Walking was still hard on him. But after a long, deep, cleansing breath, his shoulders dropped and his chest stopped heaving.

Zavier cleared his throat and tried to focus on the rest of the room. Astrid and Prema were snickering about something in the corner, faces too close to one another for it to be overheard--even by Liddy, who was sitting next to them with her arms crossed as she munched on some crackers. Edmund sat next to Danny on the other side of the table, with Ivor and Felix on his other side. Dae had neglected to show, as Zavier had suspected. Aunt Jo was still up flying the plane. Closest to him was his younger sister, Sally Holmes. She sat silently as always, her grey eyes softly on him.

He gave her a brief smile before he sat down. “Thank you for coming here on such short notice. I’d like to make a change to the route that includes stopping by the city of Bern in Switzerland. The Builders have not yet gone there to put up a new tower, as they were mostly preoccupied in Bulgaria, and before that, India. However, they are nearing the area.We know that the Builders have a ritual that they perform, and it involves sacrificing a clock mechanic.”

“Murdering,” Danny breathed. It was only just loud enough for Zavier to hear, but if he heard it, he could be rather certain that everyone else did, too. He was about as far away from Danny as possible--both physically and emotionally speaking.

Zavier cleared his throat. “Murdering might be a more appropriate term, yes.”

Edmund grinned knowingly at him. Zavier ignored him, though it was difficult as the murmur swept through the whole room. Even Sally, his own sister, seemed to find something funny.

“Anyway,” he continued, hoping that his cheeks were not as red as they felt, “it might work in our favor to stop by Bern and alert them of what’s coming. The fewer casualties, the better. There is a strong mechanics union there, and if we warn a few of them, I suspect that word will spread. In order to do that, though, we’ll need to actually stop in Bern for a day or so. We’ll need fuel anyway. Thoughts?”

Liddy raised one hand while she wiped crumbs away from her chest with her other one. “I’ve got a question.”

He hoped that it had nothing to do with his sudden desire to help the mechanics unions, but before she finished her sentence, he knew it was exactly that. “Yes?”

“Why are you suddenly protective of mechanics?”

You could have phrased that better, he thought. This time, there was no hoping that his embarrassment was hidden.

“Liddy’s got a point,” Astrid elaborated. “We ‘ave not exactly ‘elped mechanics in the past. They might not be open to us.”

“I’ll admit, this is different for us,” Zavier responded, choosing his words carefully. He glanced over at Edmund, who gave him a small nod of approval. “But after what we saw happen in Prague--”

At this, he accidentally looked at Danny.

The mechanic looked tired, and at the mention of the city’s name, his eyes fell down to all the cuts and scrapes on his arms. Then, he looked up again, and for a brief second, and his emerald gaze lingered on Zavier.

Zavier, trying and failing to not sound distracted, continued talking. “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

For some reason, that made Danny smile.

And his smile made Zavier feel happy.

It made him feel like maybe, an apology wouldn’t be so hard. Maybe he could do it. Danny might even forgive him. Hell, part of him wondered if Danny was even upset. His smile looked so reassuringly genuine.

The rest of the meeting went on, and Zavier answered any questions thrown at him. It took a mere ten minutes for things to draw to a close and for his crew to leave. Edmund walked over to Danny and offered to help him stand up and walk back to the medical wing, but he politely declined. Instead, he looked over at Zavier. “Would you mind if I talked with you for a minute? Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble.”

Without thinking, Zavier smiled at him. “I wasn’t too scared.”

Edmund walked over to Zavier and patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll see you later, Z. Good luck.”

Good luck? What’s that supposed to mean, Ed? he thought. But Edmund was gone before he got the chance to continue.

So, he walked over to Danny. “You wanted to talk.”

He nodded. His green eyes looked brighter with the dark circles around them. Zavier was fairly certain his shirt was on backwards, but decided not to say anything. His hair almost looked windswept, though no one had been outside in a few days--especially not Danny.

“I’ve actually been wanting to talk to you for awhile, but you never came and saw me in the hospital,” he began.

That wasn’t true. Zavier had gone and seen him several times. Twice a day, at the beginning. It was just… he didn’t want Danny to see him. He hadn’t been ready.

“I suppose I have missed you. I did check on you--quite a bit when you were first admitted to the hospital. I just didn’t realise you had a reason to want to see me.”

Danny looked up at him. “Of course I have a reason to want to see you. The last time I was conscious and in the same place as you, we nearly died. I know I’ve been doing pretty shitty, what about you?”

Zavier sighed. Something about the way Danny said it made him want to smile-- there was a distinct sense of sarcasm--but he was also worried that he might be telling the truth. Perhaps everything had been horrible for him. “I’m sorry, Danny. We’ll do what we can for you--”

“You missed the important part.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“I asked you how you’re doing.”

I have been wanting to talk to you for days, but I’ve had no idea how to go about doing it. I feel guilty. I want to apologise to you and help you put everything behind you, if that’s what you want. But I can’t. I made a promise to free Aetas, and you’re the only way I’m going to do it. I don’t want to hurt you. But what else can I do?

Instead of saying any of that, he just cleared his throat. “I’ve healed up pretty well. Still have a bit of a limp, but even that’s not too bad anymore.” Then, he nodded to him. “Thanks for asking.”

Danny returned the nod. “Of course. Yeah, anytime.”

Neither one of them spoke after that. Maybe the silence lasted a minute, maybe it was an hour, or maybe it was only a few seconds. Danny could stop time. He could control it. It made sense that Zavier lost track of it when he was around him.

Finally, Danny looked over at him with his tired expression. There was something in his eyes--maybe mischief, maybe excitement--that both momentarily terrified and exhilarated Zavier.

“I know you wanted me to have some kind of revelation when I read Prometheus Unbound,” he began, “but I didn’t. I took something else away, it just wasn’t what you wanted.”

The book had been fascinating, but only to Zavier. Sally had read it and told him that she found it boring. Edmund hadn’t even finished it. “What was it?” he asked.

“At one point, the character Demogorgon says that all things are subject to eternal Love.”

Zavier paused, waiting for Danny to go on, but he didn’t. “What’s so captivating to you about that line?” he asked.

Danny looked over at him. “I think that it’s true.”

“And?”

He leaned in. “And I don’t think that you’re an exception. I think that you’ve loved and loved, and you’ve lost and lost. You told me about your mother. I think that it’s easier for you to pretend you’re cold and heartless, but you’re not. You love more and deeper than you’re letting on, and frankly, I think that the concept of loving others has started to terrify you. But you do. You do, and I see it.” he was getting more passionate the longer he spoke. His voice wasn’t rising, but it was growing more heated. “I think you’re trying to forget what love feels like, because you don’t want to get distracted from your work. To you, it’s so much easier to make everything about work. About Aetas and your mom. But you’re subject to love, too. And you need to start showing it, or else I am not going to work with you.”

With that, Danny stood up. He was having a hard time walking, and so Zavier stood up to help him, but the mechanic dismissed him.

“Don’t. I can get back. It’ll be good for me to walk on my own.” He stabilised himself against a wall and looked at the leader of the Prometheus. “I’m not trying to sound mad. I just think you need to get it together.”

Usually, he would have lashed out at Danny, but he was already in poor enough condition as it was. So, instead, he straightened his jacket, readjusted his collar, and looked at him. “Sorry to disappoint you, Danny, but love needs to come second, in my line of work. There are millions of people that depend on my succeeding in this mission, and I ought not to let them down by getting caught up in my own emotions. There are bigger problems out there.”

Danny shook his head. “You need my help, and I won’t help you until you break down a few of your own walls. I tried to do it for you, but obviously, it didn’t work.”

Zavier watched Danny leave. He was struggling with walking, but if he wasn’t going to accept the help from him, there was no point in offering.

So, he turned back to the map, pretending to study it. His eyes drifted immediately to Prague, and he took a deep breath.

His walls were broken. Did he really need to shout that to the world in order to get a simple answer from Danny Hart?

There were other ways to find the secret of time. Maybe, he didn’t need Danny’s help. He could improvise.

Part Three

“How was it?” Edmund asked, stepping into line with Zavier as he walked down the hall.

Zavier shrugged. “It could have gone better. Danny says that he is not inclined to work with us.”

“Anything new?”

He sighed. “He was just rambling about how I don’t show enough emotion. Things like that. I’m trying to help the mechanics unions--is there any pleasing him?”

Edmund bit his lip. “I was going to talk to you about that, actually. The whole emotions thing.”

Part of him wanted to tell Edmund to save it for a rainy day, but he decided that he was too tired to argue. “What’s your stance on it?”

“I kind of agree with Danny. But, that’s not what I was going to say.”

Zavier raised an eyebrow. “What was that, then?”

“I--can I talk to you in a more private place?” he asked. “I don’t want Liddy to hear this. She won’t drop it.”

“That bad?” he asked, lips twisting up into a half-smile.

“Oh yeah. If Astrid or Prema hear it, they’ll go nuts. This needs to be private.”

And so, the two of them stole away to a small room off to the side. It was usually used by Felix and Charlotte when they needed ro get away from everyone and share sweet conversations. There was a couch and a window, but not much else.

Edmund stayed standing while Zavier took a seat. “Zavier, this is a theory that I’ve had for awhile. It’s… regarding your taste in people.”

“I don’t… taste people.”

“Well, not yet,” Edmund replied, tongue-in-cheek.

Zavier, for the one thousandth time that day, flushed bright red. “What the bleeding hell is that supposed to--”

“Never mind!” Edmund interrupted. “Forget I said that. You’ll know what it means the day you figure out what it means.”

“Who are you, Nietzsche?” he asked. “Are you trying to philosophise something here?”

“Nietzsche didn’t talk about this stuff, Z. Also, just don’t compare me to that guy.” He took a deep breath. “Anyway, I think that you like men.”

How many people could lecture him about love and romance in a day? Zavier groaned. Edmund was starting to sound like Danny, with his talks about love and acceptance. “Is this really necessary?”

“Yes! I think you’re in denial,” he continued.

“What about me makes me seem like I fancy other men?” he asked, quickly closing off his body language. He crossed his legs and his arms, and then for good measure, leaned back.

“Well,” Edmund began. “Let’s start with the basics. Men who like women don’t dress in white button-up shirts with vests or wear their shirts tucked into their pants.”

Zavier’s face grew hotter. “Men with status do.”

“You’re a criminal. An outlaw. A vagabond labeled by the masses as a terrorist.”

“But I have style,” Zavier protested.

“You also put far too much effort into combing back your hair and sometimes even gelling it.”

“I’m sorry, are you criticising my fashion or is this going to feed into your point?” he asked, getting annoyed.

“Oh, no. It feeds in. But up until this part, it could all be written off as a strange sense of style.”

“Strange?” Zavier asked. “Is that what everyone thinks?”

“But what happened in Prague--you got visibly upset when I asked if Danny would be uncomfortable sleeping with another man. You stood up for him.”

“I just don’t like discrimination.” Then, he quickly added, “I didn’t feel like you were necessarily discriminating--”

“I wasn’t. You knew that. You got protective over Danny. Also, you took him out and sat for nearly half an hour, talking with him on a bench by a water fountain. You two were laughing. He made you laugh. You need that. I think he brings out the best in you, and he seems to really care. He took the bullet for you, so to speak, in Prague.”

Zavier uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. “Are you suggesting that I’m interested in men, or are you trying to set me up? Because it clearly won’t work. He’s in a happy, albeit illegal, relationship and I won’t allow anything to come in the way of that.”

The moment the words left his lips, he realised that he could’ve phrased it better.

Edmund smiled. “I think you care for him quite a bit. But we can leave off for today at you accepting your romantic preference in men.”

After that, he left. Zavier leaned back on the couch and looked out the window, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

There was no way he liked men. He didn’t have a romantic preference. Frankly, he didn’t believe that romance was his thing.

His mind drifted back to Danny, as it had been lately when it had nowhere else to wander.

All things are subject to love.

“That is a line from a book,” he reminded himself. “No matter what Danny and Edmund are trying to tell me.”

For some reason, though, that line had started to stick in his head, too. And he associated it with Danny, and his brief smiles, witty jokes, and selfless character.

All the things that made Zavier lose his composure and start to laugh. They were what had broken down his walls, and made them crumble like a clock tower to the floor.

It all came back to Danny. Every time.

With a start, he even realised that he’d been thinking of Danny while Edmund talked to him about being in love with other men.

Zavier didn’t fall in love. He couldn’t afford to. There was too much for him to lose, and too much that had already been lost. He didn’t want to add Danny to that list. It was a composition of broken hearts, tears, rage, and a sense of helplessness. Danny was… so much more than that.

Danny was happiness that spontaneously caught him off-guard, appearing out of nowhere and refusing to go away. He was a sense of security and belonging. He was a reason to be a better person, someone to look forward to.

That was when it hit him.

Love was happiness that spontaneously caught him off-guard, appearing out of nowhere and refusing to go away. It was a sense of security and belonging. It was a reason to be a better person, someone to look forward to.

Edmund was right. He fancied men.

Zavier was in love with Danny Hart.

Part Four

Danny collapsed on the hospital bed. The talk with Zavier had taken everything out of him, even though it had been worth it.

Colton was already inside, waiting for him. He ran over and helped him lay down in a more comfortable position. “Danny! Why didn’t you have anyone walk back with you? You should not be walking around by yourself right now. You’ll get hurt!” He paused. “I’m gonna make a great dad someday. Just listen to me.”

Danny laughed. It still hurt like hell to even breathe, and so the laughter felt like a medieval torturing method, but he couldn’t help himself. “Thanks, Colton.”

He smiled and kissed Danny on the forehead. “Really, though. I don’t want to see you walking around and getting yourself all banged up.”

“I won’t! I promise, Colton,” he replied. “I just needed to stretch my legs.”

“And?”

Danny sported a lopsided grin. “And I needed to talk to Zavier. It went alright, but he didn’t like what I had to say. I didn’t get punched, though.”

“That’s a plus. He’s getting better.”

He stretched out, and Colton sat down next to him. He leaned in closely and kissed the top of his nose, and then sat back up to allow for his boyfriend to keep talking.

“I told him about that line that made me think of you during Prometheus Unbound. The one that goes ‘all things are subject to love’,” he continued.

Colton ran a hand down Danny’s cheek. “You’re so sweet. What did he think of it? Did he have a revelation about clock spirits having emotions, too?”

He shook his head. “We’ll get there. I was actually trying to talk to him about his own emotions. I told him that I wouldn’t tell him the secret to time unless he started breaking down his own barriers. I want him to show that he cares, and stop pretending like he can’t show weakness. Weakness is what makes us human. And I want him to see that he’s human, too.”

The clock spirit smiled. “You have a lot of faith in that guy. Do you think he really does feel love? I personally thought he was a sociopath, until he stopped blowing up towers.”

Danny laughed dryly. “I think he’s got more of a heart than he lets on. And I want to see it.”

“Who would he love, though? I mean, I know he loves his family and his mission and things like that, but who would he love? Romantically? I just can’t see him in a relationship with anyone here. Maybe he’d fall in love if he ever left the Prometheus.”

Danny thought for a moment. Who would Zavier love?

He went through the options in his head. Liddy was too obnoxious, and for some reason, he felt that Zavier deserved better than a girl like her. He deserved someone who would watch out for him and protect him. Someone, he thought, who would bring out the better parts of him.

There was Daphne, but she was in a relationship of some sort with Akash. Besides, she hated him.

Meena was far too young. Zavier was twenty-two, whereas Meena Kapoor was only sixteen. Eight years apart, with one being a minor, was way too much of a gap for Danny to want to think about.

Astrid and Prema were together, too. And they both liked women, not men.

Then, a thought struck him.

What if Zavier liked men?

It was a bizarre thought, but he decided to bring it up to Colton. “If anyone, I think he’d make more sense dating a bloke.”

“You think?” Colton asked. “Edmund seems like too much of a brother figure to him. Dae hates him. Felix is old and married. Akash is together with Daphne.”

“Dae hates everyone, except you, to be fair. But… I don’t know.” He took a deep breath. “It’s not our place to decide, anyway. This is his love life. I just meant that I think he should start showing more happiness and fondness toward other people. I tried so hard and for so long to force even a laugh out of him.”

Colton stroked his hair gently. “Did you? Did you ever get him to laugh?”

Most of what had happened in Prague was blurry in his head. Bits and pieces came together until he could stitch a picture of what had gone on. A few things, though, were clear.

He had sat on a bench by a water fountain and talked to Zavier. Zavier had asked him if his scar ever hurt him, and he’d asked him the same question. Then, he had made him laugh--or maybe that was before--by making a morbid joke. That time, he hadn’t even been trying to be funny. It was just a witty comment that came to mind, so he said it. Zavier had liked it.

Edmund had asked if Danny would be comfortable sleeping with another man. Zavier had instantly stuck up for him and even given Danny an entire bed to sleep in, alone, in case he was uncomfortable. It might not have been saving him from a clock tower, but he had been so willing to give up his own comfort if it meant that Danny would sleep soundly and without trouble. Looking back on it, he almost wished that he’d invited Zavier to sleep with him.

Next to him, he would have been able to make sure the young man was alright.

One night, he had woken up and thought about escaping, but then he’d seen Zavier, sitting on the floor and staring out at the city of Prague with a sense of young innocence that had been unfamiliar to his face. More than anything, he had wanted to sit down and talk to Zavier about why he was awake so late. Danny had nightmares--maybe he did, too. He wanted to know if the two of them were as similar as he thought.

Similar, and yet strikingly different. Danny wore his heart on his sleeve, whereas Zavier kept his tucked away. Danny saw beauty in everything, and Zavier struggled to find it at all.

Zavier needed someone like Danny to keep him stable.

Colton could see where his train of thought had arrived, and he started to mess around with his hair again. “You’re worried about him.”

Danny looked up. “I think I can help him. I just really need him to open up to me.”

“How much?”

It was a hard question to answer, but Danny knew what he wanted to say. “Entirely. I want to see him admit what he’s feeling, and I want him to ask for help. I want to see that side of him that he hides away from the rest of the world, because I think I can help heal it. I want him to--”

I want him to love me.

Colton understood what was implied. “Do you think he ever would?”

“I don’t know, Colton. Frankly, I don’t care. I have you, and you’re all I could ever want.” He reached up and ran his hand through his golden hair. “I will always be yours. That won’t ever change.”

Colton leaned in and kissed him. Danny kissed back, hand still on the back of his lover’s head.

Soul meets soul on lover’s lips, he thought, pressing himself as close to Colton as he could go.

It was a refreshing feeling, and once they both pulled away, he couldn’t stop smiling as he looked at him.

“I know it wouldn’t,” Colton replied. “You have proved that to me, one hundred times over. I’m not suggesting that you should leave me.” He slowly laid down next to him and put his hands on Danny’s hips. “I don’t think either of us could actually survive not seeing each other for a week.”

“And you’ve proved that one hundred times over,” Danny joked, thinking back to all those months ago, when Colton vandalised his own tower, just so he would come back and fix it. It had been over a year, even though that feeling of seeing him for the first and second and third time was still as fresh as ever.

“But I don’t think you should push Zavier away. I think you’re right--he needs you,” Colton muttered, only loud enough for the two of them to hear. “He’s falling apart, but he’s not letting anyone see.”

“He’s got Edmund,” Danny replied. “Sally. His aunt.”

“But I think he needs you.”

The mechanic touched his forehead to the spirit’s, and they stayed in that position for nearly a minute. Finally, he gathered the words that he wanted to say and started to talk again.

“Don’t get me wrong. I loved kissing you and holding you and having you on top of me back in the tower, right after you saw someone else kiss me, but I don’t want you to get jealous again. It’s a hard feeling, and no one deserves it.”

Colton laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll kiss you and hold you and lay on top of you any day. I don’t need to be jealous.”

“Time sped up. Almost a day.”

He smiled. “It was a good day. We were both having fun.”

“I know. But my point is, I know how you are when you get jealous. You get overwhelmed with passion. And while I love the feeling that gives me, I don’t want it to happen more. It puts other people in danger. You’re a clock spirit. We can still be in a relationship, we just can’t do that together. And I don’t want you to feel left out--”

“Danny.”

He looked over. “Yeah?”

“This is different from Harland, back in Enfield. That guy wasn’t thinking about you. I didn’t like him.”

“And you do like Zavier?” Danny asked, confused.

“I like the version of him that you talk about. He sounds really pleasant, when you describe him letting you have the whole bed to yourself and whatnot. He’s putting you first and himself last.” He paused. “I also like the fact that he stopped blowing up clock towers when I asked him to. I think he’s getting softer.”

He almost laughed. “No. He’s not getting softer. I tried to get to him--”

“I think you did.”

His laugh fell short. “Really?”

“Yes. Listen, Danny. I want you to be happy. If it’s going to take two people to make you happy, then I want you to be in a relationship with two people.”

Danny thought for a moment. Did Zavier make him happy? He had held Colton and him both as prisoners, up until recently. Now, though, they were allowed to go anywhere they wanted, and he treated them as equals.

That made him happy, in a satisfying sort of way.

Zavier had kidnapped him multiple times and threatened him. He had been cruel and cold. That, too, had changed in the past couple of weeks. Recently, he had stopped any kind of blackmail and Danny had even heard discussion of Zavier dropping him off back in London.

That side of Zavier made him happy, too.

And then there was the side of Zavier that he had seen in Prague. The side that wanted to protect him and look out for him.

That made him happy enough that he considered taking Colton up on his offer to attempt to hold a relationship with two people.

“I can’t push you away.”

“You wouldn’t have to. And I don’t think you would. He needs you, Danny. Maybe he’s not even in love with you, but the more I think about it, the more I think he is. He checked on you a lot in the days following the explosion. He cares about you in a different way than he cares about anyone else on this whole ship.”

“All things are subject to love,” he whispered. “You think he loves me?”

“I do. And really, I wouldn’t mind if you kissed him. Besides, he stopped blowing up clock towers for me. I guess I can try to share.”

Danny leaned in and kissed Colton’s cheek. “Alright. I’ll see what I can do. I think we’ve got a long road before he admits anything.”

Although inside, he knew he’d done it. He really had broken down Zavier’s walls.

#hellhart #danny x zavier #zavier x danny #danny hart #zavier holmes #tara sim #timekeeper tara sim #timekeeper #chainbreaker #firestarter #timekeeper trilogy #timekeeper series #tara sim timekeeper #colton bell #bellhart

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lovehugsandcandy · 6 years ago

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It’s Only a Game (Part 4) (Colt x MC)

A/N: This is completely AU and has gotten so far away from me, I don’t even know how this happened. This will have 8 parts once we are done (at least that's the plan...). Still pretending that Chapter 10 never happened. Also, anyone else excited/terrified for tomorrow? Only me? Ok then.

Pairing: Colt x MC

Rating: PG-13 (swearing and kissing)

Length: 2929 words

Summary: The crew needs three rare cars to pacify The Brotherhood so Ellie and Logan go undercover.

Tags: @deimosensblog @alegria1580 @choicesarehard @thefarrari @client-327

Disclaimer: I own nothing. This is only for fun.

Ellie slid into the rideshare, making sure to gather the fabric of her dress in alongside her. It was undoubtedly the nicest thing she had ever worn, the delicate beading falling in waves down her body and the thin fabric skimming her hips.

She turned to Logan as he shut the door behind him. "You look dapper." She grinned and reached out to straighten his bow tie. He was in a tux, black, tailored to fit. For someone who had never been accustomed to the finer things, he sure pulled it off well.

“Thanks,” he grinned at her. He pulled on the lapels of his jacket and struck a pose. “It is going to be weird living it up like rich people tonight. I am definitely looking forward to being a fly on the wall.”

“You know Brent. Didn’t you get enough of that lifestyle at his parties?” Ellie leaned back in her seat and pulled her purse closer. It contained two tickets to the Los Angeles Arts Association Masquerade Ball and she needed to be conscious not to lose them.

Logan looked at her and shrugged. “This feels different. Brett is rich but these people are on another level; not only did they pay to get in, but they are donating more than most people see in a year.” He grinned at her and winked. “I also have the most gorgeous date in the house.”

Ellie chuckled and elbowed him. “Nice try, charmer. Here we are.” The rideshare pulled up to the elegant gates of a West LA mansion. The owners, some couple who owned a baseball team, had a palatial home and Ellie felt her jaw drop as she stepped out of the cab.

Logan let out a low whistle. “Not too shabby.”

Ellie could only nod and look at him. “Ready?” She pulled out the elaborate gold mask out of her purse and grabbed the tickets.

“Ready.” They took turns fastening their masquerade masks. Finally, with their disguises on, Logan held out his arm and they headed up the marble steps together. Ellie’s heels clinked with each step and she had never felt more glamorous in her life.

After handing over their tickets, they entered a receiving line to greet the hosts. “Thank you for having us," Ellie smiled and shook the hand of a distinguished looking gentleman. His giant watch sparkled in the chandeliers of the entryway and he looked vaguely bored. This was all so formal she felt like she should curtsy. Next to her, Logan put a hand protectively on the small of her back and forced a grin.

"Hello. I'm Danny." The boy next to the baseball owner smiled, all teeth, and instead of shaking her hand, kissed her palm. He looked like he was Ellie’s age and would have been cute if not for the aggressive leer on his face. She forced a smile and could audibly hear Logan's teeth grinding next to her.

Ellie plastered a smile on her face and began the slow process of extracting her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"I'm Logan," he aggressively butt in, shaking Danny's hand, eyes hard.

"Of course," Danny smiled again but this time, it did not reach his eyes. "Please enjoy our party."

Logan led her through the party with a hand on her back. Dipping low, he whispered in her ear, "I am so looking forward to lifting a few cars off their hands." The squeezed though what felt like an interminable mass of people until, finally, they were able to separate from the crowd. Together, they headed over to a quiet corner to strategize. Logan looked at her intently. “Do you remember the plan?”

“Of course.” Ellie nodded, trying to contain the butterflies. “We mingle and, in five minutes, you sneak out the back and open the garden gate for Colt and Mona. I stay here. You get the cars. I watch the back door to the garage. If anyone goes down...” She trailed off. The earpieces hadn’t been discrete enough for this mission so they were relying on a bit of improvisation.

“If anyone goes down, try to head them off. If you can’t, try to be loud so we know someone’s coming.” He placed his hands on her shoulders, their weight comforting Ellie as she nodded. “You’ve got this.”

“Ok. Let’s do this.” Together, they wandered over to get appetizers, stole a flute of Champagne (Ellie decided against drinking it, but couldn’t deny it looked stunning against the navy of her dress), and circled the party, mapping out possible exits.

All too soon, Logan nodded. “Ok. I’m headed out.” He squeezed her elbow and looked intently into her eyes, nodding. “Have fun. You’ve got this.”

Ellie watched him walk down the hall and fade into the distance. She took a deep breath and looked around. “Ok.” She muttered to herself. “Go time.”

She started to mingle, trying to make the most of the party while keeping an eye on the back entrance to the garage. She tried appetizer after appetizer, fended off advances from a couple of people who probably shouldn’t be driving home, and tried to look as natural as possible. It was hard when she didn’t know anyone but, given the theme, she supposed she was lucky. She could hide behind her mask and no one knew her either; she felt a certain safety in that.

She was edging down the hall, heading towards the bathroom, when she saw the creep from the front door, Danny, stop outside the door to the garage. He looked around, completely confused and then, to Ellie’s horror, he opened the door and peered inside. Before she could move, he had taken two steps inside and shut the door behind him.

“Crap. Crap crap crap.” Ellie walked as quickly as she could towards the door, frantically thinking as she went. She had no idea what she was going to say but, before she could talk herself out of it, she opened the door and quietly ducked in after him.

Once she shut the door, it took a minute for her eyes to adjust. There was some moonlight coming through the windows but it was mostly dark. She squinted, trying to find where he went. The cars were there, at least, so she couldn’t see anything dramatically askew in the room; hopefully, Danny was also seeing nothing.

She crept down the stairs and finally saw him, standing next to the giant garage doors. “Hello?” he called out, looking around. He must have heard something; if they made it out of here, she was going to be sure to give Colt hell for this.

Internally debating, she thought that she might be able to get the jump on him, but decided to try something safer. “Danny?” she called.

He twirled around, startled, and she continued down the stairs. “Hi. Sorry. I saw you duck in and just had to follow you.... It’s Ellie, remember me?”

As she stepped into the moonlight, he visibly relaxed. “Of course I remember you. Where is your date?”

Ellie sighed. “I think he actually left me here. He was talking to some girl and now I can’t find him anywhere.” She trailed off, biting her lip. “It’s just so sad being here alone; I think I might head out and wanted to say good-”

“No, no, no.” Danny interrupted her and moved closer. “Are you sure you want to leave?”

She looked up at him, biting her lip and trying her best to play the part. “Well, I mean, I was having fun but it is so lonely-”

He cut her off. “Stay with me. I was just looking at our car collection and I would love to show you.”

Her eyes widened and she had to think fast. She turned her lips down and sighed. “I was actually hoping to dance but now....”

Danny grabbed her arm. “Would you dance with me?”

“Really?” She lowered her eyes and then gazed up at him. “I mean, I don’t want to bother you...but it would be nice to get to know you.” She cocked her head at him and touched his shoulder, letting her hand trail down his arm. She thought she heard a thump in the darkness of the garage, but relaxed when the only thing Danny did was take his sweet time looking down her body and back up to her face.

He nodded eagerly and grabbed her hand, leading her back up the stairs. “Of course.” She had to suppress a smile; were boys always this easy?

~~~~~

Ellie had no idea where they were in the timeline but she knew that having him see either the crew or the missing cars would throw a serious wrench in the plans. Unfortunately, while rerouting Danny was a success, that meant she now had a new shadow at the party. Gratefully, he didn’t insist on a second dance but now he was at her shoulder and would not be dissuaded. He was telling her some story about the Maldives and Ellie thought she would fall asleep of boredom when she felt a gentle hand on her elbow.

“Excuse me. Could I have this dance?” Ellie looked up in confusion. Colt was standing there, looking slightly out of place, wearing Logan’s tuxedo jacket and mask, with a devil-may-care grin on his face.

Ellie opened her mouth and then closed it again. He only grinned wider. “Sure,” she said, clutching his outstretched hand.

She could hear Danny sputtering behind her about how she said she was tired but she was only paying attention to Colt. He led her though the crowd, to the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by couples swaying and laughing. Turning around, he grinned impishly at her. “Hey.”

Ellie looked around at the couples gliding to some slow pop ballad. When no one was paying attention, she stopped to stare incredulously at him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“What do you mean? And you don’t know who I am; I’m in disguise.” He jiggled the mask on his face at her.

“Seriously?!” Ellie rolled her eyes at him. “I would know you anywhere. And I also know that you have somewhere else to be.”

Colt shrugged. “We had ten minutes to wait before we could sneak out the driveway. I figured that I should enjoy the festivities too.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. “So....you should know that I don’t really dance.”

Ellie sighed, putting her arms around his shoulders. “Then why are you out here?” Her dress was so thin that she could feel all of his fingers resting on her back. She could not afford to get distracted.

"For the caviar?”

Ellie cuffed his ear. “This isn’t part of the plan.” They were slowly swaying now and, if Ellie closed her eyes, she could almost imagine she was at prom. That was a different world, one where she had continued on her same-old muted path; she couldn’t go back now. There the everything was drab, grey. Here, it was vibrant, almost too intense. She was different too; she was both terrified and bold but she couldn’t give up the life between her fingertips.

“I made the plan. It’s my plan. I can change it.” He smirked, tightening his fingers around her waist. “I also wanted to make sure Richie Rich over there behaved himself.”

Ellie glared at him. “Seriously? You thought I couldn’t handle one dance with him?”

“I just...” Colt trailed off. He looked at something behind her for a few seconds before turning back to her. “I just-”

“You just what?” She shook her head before she froze, realization dawning. “Wait, you were there. In the garage.”

“Yeah, we were there. Nice save, by the way. Much better than plan B.” He pulled her closer, fingertips on her lower back. “Plan B would have been rough.”

“What was plan B?” Ellie looked up.

Colt shrugged. “Probably make a break for it.” He smirked at her dumbfounded expression.

“Didn’t you say that you needed to prepare for anything?”

He grinned, reaching up and tracing his fingers over the delicate mask on her face. “And didn’t you say that I wasn’t prepared for you?” He trailed his fingers down her cheek to the back of her neck.

“And you’re not.” Ellie tilted her head and looked up at him with a smile, but he wasn’t looking at her face anymore. He was watching his fingers slowly trail down her neck to her shoulders, a ghost of a touch. Ellie froze; Colt glanced at her and, emboldened now, continued. The gentle fingers kept going, sliding under the strap of her gown and he slowly trailed them down, tracing the line of the beading as it curved delicately across her chest. Whereas Danny’s eyes on her had made her feel vaguely dirty, Colt’s focus was different. She felt warmth blooming in her stomach and she couldn’t move, couldn’t think. She was paralyzed and could only stand there, watching him watch his fingers trace along her dress, over and under the hem, over fabric and bare skin, to stop at the lowest point of the delicate beading, right in the center of her chest.

She drew in a shaky breath and Colt looked up, looking into her eyes. Her mouth was suddenly dry and her lungs wouldn't inflate. She had no idea what he saw there but he turned back to his fingers, sliding them up the dress, slowly, to her opposite shoulder and playing with the strap there.

Ellie realized her legs were shaking. She couldn’t breathe.

Colt looked at her then, right into her eyes. “I just didn’t want him dancing with you.”

Ellie grabbed the sides of his face and pulled, throwing their lips together in a frenzy. Colt reciprocated in kind, sliding his hands down her back, pulling her to him with rough hands. His lips were hungry on hers and she groaned into his mouth as he gently bit her lower lip and then soothed it with his tongue. She had no idea how long they kissed but he was all she could feel, touch, taste; he was everything in that moment and nothing else, nothing, mattered. A hand slid down and somehow found the high slit in her dress, tracing her thigh and setting her absolutely aflame. She was on fire, a delicious burn throughout her stomach, lower, and nothing was strong enough to put her out.

“Ahem.” Ellie heard something but couldn’t tell where it was coming from. Nor did she care until, again, a louder “Ahem.”

She came up for air and saw a disapproving woman in a fur stole glaring at them. “The song is over.”

Ellie looked around. The song was indeed over and couples were edging around them, heading to the bar or to the appetizers. Her cheeks burned and she averted her eyes until the woman huffed and walked away.

Colt gently touched her waist. “I have to get back.” His hair was mussed, lips chapped and a blush on the tips of his ears. I did that, Ellie thought. He leaned down and kissed her, deeply, fingers lightly mapping the curves of her cheeks as if he was mapping her features, afraid they would disappear.

“Ok, now I really have to go.” He turned and made his way through the crowd, ducking quickly through the back hall. Ellie watched as long as she could, then turned and slid through the crowd.

She could not afford to get distracted.

~~~~~

Ellie stumbled out of the cab and through the back door of the shop. She was exhausted and would have pulled off her heels, but she didn’t know what Toby had left on the floor of the shop. She yawned and made her way towards the stairs to the loft when a sudden movement made her freeze. She peered into the dark floor as a shape stood.

“Colt?” He had been sitting on the stairs to the loft and he looked as tired as she felt. "What are you doing up?”

“Where were you? It’s almost 5am.”

“I had to wait while they questioned every single person at the party. They took a special interest in me because Logan disappeared, so I was talking to the police forever.”

“What did you tell them?”

She smiled. “That he ditched me to go hook up with a cocktail waitress there. Played the whole jilted date card and everything.”

Colt chuckled quietly. “Good thinking. Do you think they suspected?”

“Not at all. Did everything go ok?”

“Like a charm. All three cars out and hidden around the city.” He rubbed the back of his head, looking at the floor. “Thanks for being there today.”

“Wait...were you waiting up for me?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “You were supposed to be back hours ago. And you didn’t have your phone. I didn’t know what to think.”

“You were worried.” Ellie smiled, secretly pleased.

Colt rolled his eyes. “Well, I need to make sure that the crew gets back....and now you’re back.” His smile softened and he nodded at her. “Good night, Ellie. Good job.”

He was almost past her before she moved and she was able to just barely grab onto his elbow. “Colt?”

“Yeah?”

She took a deep breath and bit her lip. “I just....I don’t want to sleep in Logan’s bed tonight.”

His eyes widened and he swallowed hard. He stopped for a beat, looking at her questioningly, but didn’t say anything. He just nodded and laced his fingers in hers, leading her down to his room.

#colt kaneko #choices rod #colt x mc #colt rod

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libramoon2 · 8 years ago

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Between Worlds

Between Worlds ~ Persephone to Caela I want to write her story, but it isn't ready to write. I imagine it as a painting, swirling colors and intricate spectral figures, everything moving at once, a kaleidoscopic panorama. When I was a kid, I used to wish on the Moon, the big Full Moon. It was so much grander than any sparkling star. I would twirl around and around on the dewy summer grass, electrified by blinking fireflies. Then, I would flop down to watch the sky swirl like a Van Gogh Starry Night. What kind of Solstice celebration would she have? Would they have comparable seasons? They would have to have a whole new system of astrology, if anyone bothered with that Earth-based lore. They would have ceremonies, celebrations, dancing and romancing and offerings of special performances to keep in touch with the mysterious. They would be a spiritually aware people, happy in the shared wealth of their culture. They would know to honor, value, celebrate the individual as the ultimate resource of the common wealth. Empaths have no ambition based on suspicion, no need for hierarchical arrangements to be secure in one's place. The year, or whatever passed for one, would no doubt fall out differently than our years. What constellations might appear? How many moons? Does it matter? Important occasions are marked, harvests and births, rewards for hard labor, sacredly meaningful losses that we move beyond through honoring sacrifice. What else must be honored, must be held holy? There would be celebration for the occasion of the moment when the spirit is strong within the tribe, when there is need for release, tears and laughter, impassioned artistic rendering, raucous song, frenzied dance, the strong scent of blazing emotions gone wild in the loving safety of tribal union. ************** She found the children, understandably frightened but so far unharmed. The telepathic ability which had condemned their parents had helped to save them. She knew this to be a time of crisis, a crossroad, which must open an opportunity to end this unnecessary enmity, these unnecessary tragedies. Caela was called. She chose to answer. She was uprooted as a child, but within the caring arms of community. Within that communal embrace, she was able to learn her power, use it for the communal good. She enjoyed a happy, balanced life with family, friends, fulfilling work, peaceful spirituality, the grace of natural beauty. At the point when her life as it had been had taken her as far as it could, she was called to a sacred journey, a mission for her own continued growth of soul, and for the transformation of a world long divided, a healing of the wound dividing the people of her world. It all came as a natural progression. She was always given all she needed to be able to give what was needed by those she served. Gentle eyes, but much more, eyes anyone could stand before with no shame. Self-evidently these eyes were ready to accept and respect what they saw. She speaks to me sometimes. No, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting different results. She speaks to me in my own voice, though, perhaps, in a different register. She comes to me in a dream, a recurring dream. It was so clear and powerful. She is beautiful, full of life, full of magical power. I feel safe with her. Perhaps she is some kind of totem, spirit guide. Perhaps she is someone I could become, in the fullness of time, as some kind of metaphoric singularity, familiarity, familiar inner voice who has always guided me. I feel a special affinity to cats. They are so completely themselves. I love the strong sensual flowering scents of Spring. Yet, I am a creature of the Winter of low lights, of shadow and multiple realities. I call her Caela. She makes me happy in a special, secret way. I have a sparkling, shining secret. No, it's not schizophrenia. In a way, it is sanity. She helps me to understand who I am, who I could become, free and self-empowered. She is like a fantasy mother who is giving me everything I need to face my fortune. She is a gift from me to me. Moon in Virgo, maybe? I’m losing track. It’s all one long wintry night. None of that life so mine so few months ago seems real to me now. I am not that person who lived there. Can't go back; don't have a clue how to go forward. Celia's still taking care of me -- I have no financial woes. I can stay here for probably longer than I would ever need to, meeting all my 21st century needs, even indulgences, without having to concern myself with paychecks. One less thing. Pandora cuddles up to me, lets me blubber and cry all over her. She doesn't make the demands of human friends for coherency, consideration, a semblance of self-control. Yeah, I miss me, miss them, miss us. It's like I'm being told, simply, in strict terms, that here and now I am not that girl, that womanchild. I am not clear on who this metamorphosed me is becoming. A great, golden cockroach comes to mind. But I am not ashamed. I have no family to fail, no social position to lose. I am not a golden butterfly, simple grace flying from flower to flower. Often I feel like a wraith, between worlds -- not of one or the other. Am I my namesake? But in what realm am I Queen? No, I am not taking over your place, sweet Pandora, so solidly Queen of the household. There is solace in the awareness of another life, a natural way of being. I am Persephone in her mother's home. It is Demeter who has been taken by the minions of death, her body barely holding on to life's sweet definition. Strangers minister narcotics to soften the veil, blur the journey. That is where the dream comes from. The potent journey; the aging mother, crone, no longer a complete integral of her tribe, no longer anchored to her long-time position in life. Is she called to a sacred mission? Is she a possible guide to my own salvation? What do I need to be saved from? The endless days that make no sense, unanchored, dependent on inspiration? It is getting dangerously close to dawn on this not long enough winter night. I can't bear to see the light as if ordinary routine of weekday activity could be my expected, accepted norm. I feel so much more naturally alive in Caela's world, as I diligently figure it out in a faithful inner theatre of cinematic splendor. This has got to be a good thing, this insistently reveling imagination that hugs me with warmth and ecstatic emotion. So much more than a distraction or psychotic state, I believe it is meant to heal and elevate. But what do I know, pretending to be somewhere other than this sad little apartment in this sad little neighborhood, someone more grand than sad little me. This lassitude is not like me, or not like the me I like to be. I do remember other times when life was too much with me and restlessness without activity overtook me. I need a visionquest. I can attain that even from this restraining lassitude by projecting my mind onto another, more vital, life. I can follow that path of no resistance, encounter demons and deities, solve the puzzle, claim the prize, reemerge, shimmy down the beanstalk refreshed and reinvented. Perhaps I must. It's hard to know, living on all these levels, in all these layered dimensions of cosmic meaning to random happenstance, how to go about continuing. It's not the drugs -- anyway, they are only mild antidepressants along with that old central nervous system shut-down stand-by measured in proofs below 30. I'm a self-medicator from way back; but I have considerably grown up and cut way down. I refuse to touch Celia's pain medication, even though she left quite a nice stash behind when they evacuated her. Or, what is the word? They removed her from her former life to watch her die. I should evacuate myself, get back to where I once belonged. I should get over this private pity party and find my way to be useful and productive in the world. I am drawn into this fantasy universe as if it were the one that was real. I imagine channeling is like this. So now I am the gypsy witch of fairytales casting my scrying eye into other worlds. Anything's better than being nothing, no one, lost, drifting, alone. Yeah, melodramatic and untrue. I have wonderful friends who I just can't seem to reach out to. But, you know, I know, I'm used to being alone. It's restful, familiar, delightfully irresponsible, just me. Yet I'm never alone with my insistent imagination ever entertaining me with charming characters playing out stories. I will self-indulge for awhile, take advantage of this luxurious lapse into insanity to see where it lands me. I can't think of any reason not to that makes any sense to me. I'm sure if I get too loud the neighbors will complain. Just a ditsy witch with her cat and inner crucible, listening to jazz, smoking herbs, drinking wine, writing fantastic journeys. If Celia wanted more from me, it's too late for her admonishments now. Danny wanted nothing from me. Maybe some absolution, but I'm not in that business. What do I want from me? That's the question worth pondering. Maybe Caela will tell me as I follow her visionquest through the brave forest, discovering who we are, what we can do, where we belong. Hours melt into hours, navigators' objects move across the sky outside this progressively filthier window. I feel the luxury of my hand losing itself in soft fur as Pandora purrs beside me on Celia's couch. From time to time as it occurs to me, I pretend to write cogently, for something to pretend to do. Yes, I know there are vast ventures of exciting adventuring, or even simple chores I could engage in, if I could engage. Gulping down wine when the feelings get too close to the surface probably is not helping my thinking to find coherence. The radio music gives me an illusion of being somewhere, some connection to a greater world out on the airwaves. I can ride those airwaves like a magic carpet to imaginary places, people to whom no responsibility can be owed or expected. I somehow hypnotically manage to do the few daily chores necessary to maintain me, cat, plants, to keep real squalor at bay. Going through those motions with minimal consciousness is not responsibility. I don't have to answer for or explain myself, keep up a conversation or show appropriate emotional responses. How did such simple everyday bits of business become so exhausting to even contemplate? It's not just that I'm not the person others expect of me. I am no one at all. There is no cohesive sense of me to explain or hold together an acceptable identity. My memories don't feel of me but like some old tv drama series of connected stories. Do you remember that episode when Persephone and Tom made love on the beach at dawn, hidden in the water though there was no one else around to see? Or that one in the earlier seasons when Danny explained to little Persephone why he wouldn't be living with her and her mom anymore? Seasons and seasons of this long-running soap opera in which nothing is ever resolved; no strong central character emerges complete with her happy well-rounded life, a joy to her friends, a boon to her neighbors. Or is that Caela, the refugee? Not that I think I can find myself in her; lose myself in her is more where I'm aiming. But maybe, Goddess willing, I can lose myself in her, live out her story in my inner movie, to find myself later, after the show, curled up in the shelter of some hidden woodland tree, a sprouting seed learning how to be this new creature as I become. Or maybe I'll just get lost in my own insanity, no good to anyone. Happy pitty party to me, lazy and selfish and brazenly morose. Who do I think I am? Secretly: Once upon a time a princess grew into a queen, and then into a crone, and then into a legend that never dies. When all she wanted was a world that made sense in which she could feel free to be alive. But that makes no sense. That's not me. Must be the alcohol talking -- in vino a lot of nonsense, hyperbole, and sloppy thinking. Caela wouldn't need wine. But they would probably have come up with a process for making fermented fruit juice, along with everything else they would need to come up with as a community creating their own existence outside civilization as they had known it. So much to consider in creating a new world. I suppose this one happened bit by bit and all at once like most endeavors over time. Is that how it happens? Threads and consequences moving together imperceptibly until there you are, hemmed in by rules and customs and history? If we travelled back along every thread to the less than conscious decisions creating consequences along the way, we would probably find much better ways of making it all work out. But I'm not that conscious or conscientious; nor are most people getting by or getting behind in our narrow little worlds. Those with real vision come off just sounding crazy. Caela's people, despite their unique situation, would most likely fall into their own level of complacency over time. Goddess, what would you have me do? I feel there is some purpose of yours in all of this, not just my little personal devolvement into insanity. Of course that feeling of destiny could easily be a symptom of insanity. No doctors! No prodding or psychotic drugs or setting myself up for nasty incarceration or reindoctrination to normalcy -- whatever that is. I will follow my own damned path, wherever. So, Goddess, I guess we are in this together until you abandon me too. Those dreams of sinking into mushy ice on blue frozen tundras, there is a way through, beyond -- or am I frozen in stasis, merely waiting for the frostbite to reach vital organs? It all remains to be seen. Walking unsteadily between the worlds, I could fall forever I suppose. But wouldn't that become its own level of complacency, falling without thought, receding into a normative back-drop for lazy, selfish, morose self-entertainment? Let's pretend there is a future-place where all the threads come together in colorful, festive array that make perfect sense on reflection. It's just a matter of making it from here to there. So, dear imaginary Caela, what can you tell me? I feel a kinship to Caela. It's not just because she is a creature of my mind, woven from bright bits of thought, feelings, fantasy. It's like she can see inside me and understand as I look into her, learn her. She does not look like me. I envision her as slightly tall, strong frame, dark hair and eyes, swarthy skin, quiet, pensive, yet with a strong sense of somewhat ironic humor, a merry open laugh, sweet loving smile, mischievous grin, dancing countenance. She is intelligent, not erudite. She is compassionate, loving, kind with that strong solid kindness that tolerates fools with enduring good humor, never maudlin, never haughty, but never obeisant or credulous. She stands tall, moves gracefully, takes in each scene, each lesson, each conversation or reflection deeply, holistically, completely. She is intimately connected to her people and place, yet always able to stand apart and accept her own vision. She is quite imperfectly human, and very comfortable with exactly who she is. She loves and lives without reservation, yet with deep, complex reflection and an eternal sense of wonder. She is not representative of her people nor her time, yet she is completely enmeshed with them. I feel comfortable with her. Her presence in my mind calms and inspires me. She is an amazing friend and confidante. I feel compelled to tell her story though it is nothing like mine. Probably there are metaphoric parallels that I, my deeper self, knows I can learn from, can delve into to discover my own intimate secrets, to grow and heal. If I fall into this other world of my own creation and never return to conventional reality, it will harm none and expand my horizons. But that is getting way too ahead of where I am now. Most likely I will go through this little experiment in traversing into a different realm, find myself on the other side an experienced dimension-shifter, cosmic traveler, no more lost to insanity than most who dare to follow the art star to personal freedom and multiple awareness. Okay, Caela, tell me a story. Tell me stories for a thousand nights in whatever time zone we can agree on. My mother told me stories all my life. She was very certain of the line between fiction and fact; but she was also aware of the kind of truths that can best be understood through myth, fairy tales, poetry. Celia, in your death bed, do you see and understand your morphine dreams? Are you just fading away, or are you finding answers to your lifelong mysteries? I know you no longer need or want to talk to me, to share with anyone your last ecstatic visions or drooling pain. Will I feel that why too at my end? Right now I only want to live in my spinning fantasy with Caela on her world where it is all quite wonderful and far away from here. It's not that I get to control this world of my creation while the real world is too far out of control for me to come to terms with. It's that I get to make wonderful discoveries, to leave the routinely painful neighborhood of planet Earth and think big thoughts, experience my wild and crazily manifesting dreams. Pandora wants to cuddle, presses her purring body against me. Another magical companion on my road to Goddess knows where. Tom has left several concerned messages: why don't I respond? Isn't he my magical companion? My wine glass needs refilling. The curtains are drawn against impending dawn. I thought of calling Danny, but there's too much to say. I'm not ready to say any of it. Thank Goddess I have this time, this place, to dissolve and, hopefully, resurrect. What do people do when their reality fragments and they have no realistic choice but to keep moving forward, doing the day job, paying the bills, supporting the family, acting responsibly? Guess that's why pharmaceutical companies make the big bucks on anti-depressants. Then there are those who crack and become homicidal suicides. It's always the quiet ones, so they say. I can understand that. When I was more actively alive, I was so much noisier. Not that I'm about to be outwardly dangerous, or actually suicidal. I'm just going on a little sabbatical within a dreamscape. I can see her now in her teen years. She is full of passion and purpose. She is in love with the lover of her life, waiting for him to pursue her. She is happy and reasonable and ready to take on the world with no idea what awaits her. Transitional times. Caela wouldn't have the astrology as we Earthlings developed it, being under different skies. Still, I see her as a Scorpio. She is a healer by going within and sharing deep content. She has power of her own, independent yet entwined in her relationships, deeply intuitive, a person of total integrity. Talk to me, Caela the naturally wise, of the integration of my soul. I feel split into ethereal bubbles wafting into unknown space. I will concentrate, become as one with my imagined healer. I know you will carry me through into my best destiny. I will learn and emulate you, my very personal hero. We will become a legend in my mind to carry me forward. I am moving forward, though not at pace with the outside world. I am on my own time and space with my own reasons. I am on my educational sabbatical, exploring an other world, other ways of being human, to discover who I am, separate from everything I've known. I get to overdramatize in my own private theater. And I harm none, I get to do what I will, imagine what I will, will what I imagine to hold me with divine mothering arms, rock me with lullabies and fairytales. Twilight's future is the heroine's journey. I understand, compassionately, that too much choice is overwhelming to an individual trying to navigate a reasonably safe, reassuringly livable, life. That should not excuse or glorify obstruction against less usual ways, more ambitious or far-seeing strategies. Caela does not feel the pain or outrage of the outcast. She is happily enmeshed in her community, comfortably acknowledged. The solitude and self-directing she has carved out to accommodate her gifts, honed into skill for her best contribution, are well respected. If she wants to leave the group to follow her own dreams and visions, that is her choice and right. The newer generations of her people no longer keep an outcast identity. They are woven into, continuing with their own threads, the rich fabric of a community that creates their experiences and goals. Her daughter, as an integral member of this younger, self-integrating generation, lives in a large home of like-minded self-identified professionals and their children, sharing familial chores, responsibilities, celebration, physical and emotional care. Caela is happy on the outskirts of the community in her small, cozy cabin. She visits and enjoys visitors, but spends much of her time on her own. I am learning who these people are, slowly gaining their acquaintance. They are more real, immediate, than the world outside my self-absorption has become for me. I ask questions about how they live, what their world gives them. My grateful mind forms moving pictures, so beautiful, engaging. The scenes, the backgrounds, change to meet my changing expectations. It doesn't matter if I ultimately put it all together in cogent words. It is the world I need now to be formulating, a soothing, enlightening meditation. I keep getting caught up in the details. Lovely, soothing details, like doing sums in grade school. Weather. What would the differences in planetary physics do? And even if I am no scientist, how have they developed economic and cultural norms? How have the planet's -- let's call it Eden -- natural lifeforms (because if it is capable of sustaining life it probably already does) dealt with the invasion of life from Earth? I surmise they would have brought embryonic and seed life on the spaceship to continue farming once land was reached. Would there have been combinations, mutations, some species devouring others to become dominant in that ecological niche? I recall attempting some preliminary research about space colonizing, some proto-musings about this race of genetically engineered empaths that seems to have morphed in my subconscious into Caela’s witchfolk. At that time I got too caught up in immediate living, abandoning forays into an imagined far future. If I get too caught up in these endless details I could ensnare myself and be unable to continue. I can let them percolate, let the questions come to a head and seep through my imagination. Looking deeply into my metaphoric crystal, I can watch these people, see their details play out, feel out what feels right for these far off colonists and their descendants. In the mysteries of time and space and fantasy, I can watch these people I command into existence assemble into their customary daily lives for my inspection. See the scenes. Note the salient points. Feel the poignant stories. Those devilish details don't daunt me. They will fill out as they will, as I will, once the grounds percolate and become more clarified, more real than reel (omg, what mixing of metaphors, what a mish-mash of maudlin strings). Willingly giving myself over to this fantasy, somehow this is who I am, at least for now. It feels right and safe. It's like I want to be scared, but can't feel it. But what is there to be scared of? I am protected by the great power of prepaid bills and social anonymity, the strongly purring cat beside me, the blessings of alcoholic bliss, and a total lack of real world responsibilities. Whoever the Hell I am, must be some mumbo-jumbo mystical power there. Caela would know about that kind of power. I see the beginning of a beautiful friendship, despite the boundary difficulties between worlds. As long as I've only myself to answer to, reality can be whatever I agree to. Young Caela was able to adjust and thrive because she was tuned in to herself, to her own perceptions and power. Her parents, Lev and Letta, they exist within her, but so does all that psychic energy moving through her. To make use and sense of that, she needs integrate experiential impressions, integrating a trusted sense of self. How moderate can temperatures be? Do we have the ranges we do have because of some specificity of size or shape or orbit and distance form our Sun? I'm not picturing Winter on Eden, despite its frigid everpresent reality for me here and now on Earth. Fall I can see, the harvest season. But why not several harvests like in the sunny warm states? Out in the farm areas beyond the city's structures, they have greenhouses, even hydroponic technologies from the ship. Even if the planet has a variety of climate zones, they may have settled in an area less likely to freeze. Would it be sweltering in the Summer in the city? They would know how to build for minimizing that, design to encourage cooling winds, maybe have air conditioning. They would plant trees according to ecologically thought out plans for shade and water retention and air cleaning. The cultural norms would include a slowness of outdoor perambulations, light-weaved clothing. I see bright colors, even in the enclosed atmosphere of the built-up city. There is an appreciation for art, culture, color, design. It's not that they don't enjoy diversity. They are worried, frightened, that they will be left behind, out-classed, unable to successfully excel in competition for what they think to be scarce resources, even such nonmaterial resources as public appreciation and prestige, as well as whatever passes for wealth in their culture. They have closed themselves in to this city. Those of true valor and adventure have gone off exploring. Those who can't abide fences and rules have been sent to the outer reaches to work out their destinies as farm labor or defense trainees or bucolic eccentrics. People jammed together with their secret inadequacies and fears can build up a psychological squalor. People who present as clean, upright, hard-working citizens can be harboring petty and grand mal demons who rule over their potential better natures and insist on penance without respite, respect or concern. The empaths are not immune from demons, though are to some extent insulated from personal devolution by their mutuality of feelings, the ability to if they so choose never be alone. They will be able to take advantage of distance from the closed in city to develop a culture of their own design. Thesis, antithesis, synthesis. The dialectic of socially evolving mankind prevails. This is not a story about man against nature or man as part of nature, but about human nature; but we are not alone in the Universe. There is no clear division of background and foreground. The picture includes waves and landscape and sky and all the rest, as far, as near, as detailed, as the artist bothers to render; as the eye bothers to see. All I can do is look deeply into the crystalline vision, and respect, describe, reflect my impressions, my perceptions, my emotions and their creations. Jase was Singer's father, not Aron. She had heard Maris talking with her father, Lev. Aron was Maris's husband, father of her three daughters, though apparently not of her youngest, her son, Singer. When the troubles started getting serious back in the city, Aron had not felt his wife and children worth the sacrifices of standing by them. He was not an empath, had only married one. He had become resentful over the course of that marriage, feeling that Maris was better than he was in every way that counted. She was, but not because of some special talent. She was naturally practical and loving. He was naturally neither. He had been young and charming, confidentally ambitious but privately shy. Over time he had become uncomfortably aware that this wonderful prize of a wife he had won neither made him a better man nor failed to see his flaws. Be careful what you wish for. Keep your eye on all the clauses and subparagraphs. Relationships won't heal us, only give us comfort and anchoring when we do the work to heal ourselves. If Jase were Singer's dad, not Aron, Singer was full empath, unlike his sisters. Jase was a sweet, good-humored drifter of a guy, strong and smart, always ready to help out, but mostly a loner. He and Maris had been close friends since childhood, back in the city. Neither were the kind to deny their feelings, or broadcast them. Maris and Lev had become good friends since the relocation. She was at the moment ranting a bit, reminiscing a bit, in the company of a friend she found easy to talk with. He was happy to listen. He certainly had his share of venting, ranting, sharing memories secondhand. His wife, Letta, Caela's mom, had become unreachably ill, unable to participate in conversation, to show evidence of reciprocating his love which he now sometimes felt bordered on tragic. Like children everywhere, Caela picked up bits and pieces of gossip and common knowledge listening to adult conversation as it drifted through her day. She had never met Aron, but did feel the distinct negative tinge given to memories of him by those who had known him. Everyone loved Jase. She supposed Singer had gotten the better of the bargain without consciously thinking about the matter at all. She loved Singer and Maris, similarly though differently from the way she loved Lev and Letta. They were all family, intertwined lives. Though she was a few years older than Singer, they were left to play together while the grown-ups worked, often looked after by one or more of Singer's sisters. There weren't a lot of children in this new community. Everyone did what they could to make sure all were cared for, all the necessary work got done and done well. Everyone taught what they knew, shared tools and techniques, learned what they needed to. Separately and together they figured out how to make a life that worked. Singer and Caela took on what chores they could as time went on. Still, there was plenty of time for playing, just being, figuring out who you are and how that's done. Friends are good mirrors, sounding boards, brain-storming aids, quiet companions. True to Maris's intuitive naming, Singer loved to sing and was incredibly talented at contriving a wide range of soundings from his voice and various musical instruments he was finding ways to fashion from what came to hand. He could keep those around him singing and dancing as well, lightening chores, enlivening leisure. Certainly he was quite a popular figure, central to celebrations. He took this popularity in his gently smiling way, always generous, always bubbling with fun. Music is magic. It excites, inspires, and heals. Caela found she could heal in another way. She knew without thought that she had profound feelings of empathy, profound insights, much more than was ordinary for the extraordinary people of whom she had been born and nurtured. She had from earliest times learned without knowing she was learning to encapsulate the feelings driving into her from all around that she might work through and understand them without being overwhelmed. It had always been like a special extra mother within her teaching and protecting, perhaps an extra gift from Letta who had not been able to learn such necessary protection well enough for herself. Though little girl Caela had tried and tried to use this gift of separating, working through feelings to move in with care and incisive healing, to help her beloved mother, Letta, cope with the demons that crippled her mind, she had not the power to effect that cure. Letta had not learned to protect herself. She had not felt the need in her protected environment where her naturally strong healing abilities had given her a fine, well-respected career. She had never expected a need to prepare for her denouncement or the escalating troubled times eventuating in exile from the life she depended upon for emotional anchor. Though Caela's efforts to heal that breach continued to be heartbreakingly unsuccessful, the failure did not deter nor break her. It was like layers of strength being built by practice and reflection. She found, bit by bit, that she could look into the core of dis-ease and injury to encourage and accelerate natural healing processes of those who suffered. She was also drawn to learn about healing plants, meditative practices, techniques of touch and movement. Not all callings are so strong. Perhaps she had been learning from Letta, even from the womb, to take this offered gift farther, to develop the instinct for self-preservation needed to make it a blessing rather than a curse, even should her world fall apart. Lev had been a writer in the city, a journalist of wry social and political commentary published regularly in the most popular news magazine. In this new life, he was finding artistic and physical outlet in learning carpentry -- a craft he had never been exposed to in his former life. It amused and amazed him how much he enjoyed working with his hands to miraculously create a useful product. He had been quite appreciative of Maris's skill in weaving beautiful fabric of the fur and plant fibers of their now farming community. He continued to appreciate her creative skill, even more so, as he learned his own craft. Former city business types were having to relearn how to be alive, become people they had never known they were, processing radical change, a broken linear norm revealing to them that it was only a convenient fantasy. For Caela it was all perfectly natural, the colorful adventure of life. Nothing is promised. A great deal is possible. Singer's sisters, Mirra, Cali and Arla, were cheerful, responsible, warm and witty like their mom. Even in appearance they resembled her and each other, though they had not yet achieved her manner of calm wisdom. Though they might appear less vivid younger copies of Maris, each had her own distinct flair and essence. They were all wizards of cloth, weaving, sewing, designing clothing and other useful textile wares. They had their own cottage industry, producing for their own use and trade as well as teaching others who wanted to create their own clothing and furnishings. Though no one had thought the need to come up with "money," there was plenty of rudimentary trade. For big projects, work and outcome were shared. It was expected that everyone help out as needed. Beyond that, individual enterprise took over. Tools were shared on rough timetables open to disruption by urgencies. Adaptations often had to be invented suitable to available resources, repurposing, devising tools and processes as necessary. Of course there were angers, resentments, frustrations, but this is where the skills of empaths excel. There are those naturally soothing presences who help to keep good feelings flowing. There is not the kind of awkward or tragic miscommunications to slow useful negotiation. It helps that there's plenty of cohesive goodwill, shared sorrows and celebrations, respect grown from working together, playing together, sharing humor, philosophy, and everyday concerns. Recipients of an interconnected web are intimately in tune to enlightened self-interest, true vested interest in success for all.

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darks-ink · 6 years ago

Text

Disinterred CH.5

Chapter 5: I’m Still Here, But Not Completely

The text, a rare single text considering it was send by Jazz, was simple and to the point. ‘mom and dad think that a ghost killed danny and replaced him, wtf?’ God, what a mess. How did he always get himself into trouble like this, without even trying?

(the full summary, previous chapters, author notes, content warning, and the links to AO3 and FFnet can be found here)

Several hours later found Danny floating above Sam and Tucker as they zipped through Amity Park on their scooters. The patrol had been rather quiet so far, with few ghostly disturbances. The overall quiet, combined with the cathartic effect of flying and the presence of his friends, had settled Danny’s emotional level back to normal.

Just as he considered diving down towards his friends to startle them, Danny felt his phone buzz in a pocket of his jumpsuit. Pulling it out, he saw that Jazz had texted him. She must’ve returned home and heard about the events of earlier that day.

He stopped, mid-air, to read the message Jazz had send him. From the corners of his eyes he saw that Sam and Tucker had stopped as well. They had probably seen him, and had decided to wait for him to explain.

The text, a rare single text considering that it was send by Jazz, was simple and to the point. ‘mom and dad think that a ghost killed danny and replaced him, wtf?’

Danny couldn’t stop the snort that came through, and barely stifled the bitter laughter that followed it. God, what a mess. How did he always get himself into trouble like this, without even trying? The universe must really hate him.

He briefly considered the possibility that there was a ghost controlling this sort of stuff out there, similar to Clockwork, but dismissed the thought almost as soon as it came up. If there was a ghost of fate, then it most likely is Clockwork.

He shook his head to clear the thoughts, deciding that he should probably just go and talk with Jazz in person instead of trying to explain the situation via the phone. He sunk lower to the ground so he could talk with Sam and Tucker more easily, white boots soundlessly hitting the asphalt of the street.

“Apparently Jazz just got home, and has been informed by my parents that a ghost killed and replaced me. So I think I’m gonna fly over real quick so we can talk this entire thing through, preferably before she gets all overprotective older sister on me.”

“Dude, I’m pretty sure it’s already too late for that.”

Elbowing Tucker in the ribs, Sam added. “But you should go anyway. We’ll finish up patrol for you.”

Danny nodded. “Alright, thanks. I’ll meet you back at Tucker’s place, okay?”

The other two acknowledged him before turning around and continuing down the street. Danny quickly texted Jazz (‘omw’) before launching himself back into the air, shooting off towards FentonWorks.

Not much later, Danny hung (invisibly) outside of Jazz’ window. Hesitantly, he knocked. Jazz looked up from whatever she was working on, glanced in his general direction, and then nodded.

Permission to enter thus granted, Danny quickly phased through the window, turning himself visible again once he was inside. He opened his mouth to explain, well, everything, but Jazz was faster.

“So, what on Earth is this about?” she snapped at him.

He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. “Well! When the accident happened and I became half-ghost, I may or may not have left behind my old, fully-human body. And since we were kind of, you know, panicking, we decided to bury it in the forest so no one would ever find out what happened.”

Jazz stared at him, an incredulous expression on her face. Apparently he had stunned her to the point of speechlessness. He didn’t even know it was possible to turn Jazz speechless. Somehow it didn’t quite feel like the achievement it should have been.

Apparently Jazz had finally found her voice again, since she chided him. “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought we were past lying to each other, Danny.”

He hunched up, blushing in embarrassment. “We are! I just… I just kind of forgot?” he muttered the last few words, guilt lacing his voice.

“Oh my God, please tell me you’re joking.” Her tone was a rather odd combination of appalled and bewildered.

Danny remained quiet. He considered complaining that he wouldn’t joke about a situation this serious, but they both knew that he always cracked jokes in situations where he shouldn’t. It was like, his number one coping mechanism. The less suitable the situation, the more he joked.

Jazz stared him in the eye, then sighed. Apparently she had determined that despite his normal behavior, he was not, in fact, joking.

“Danny, how on Earth did you forget about the fact that you buried your own corpse in the woods?”

He shrugged, somewhat uncertainly. “Look, the Accident was a really confusing time, and then I had to learn to control my ghost powers, and then ghosts started attacking and we just kind of forgot, okay? Now will you please help me explain this to mom and dad so they’ll stop shooting at me?”

Jazz looked at him with an expression he couldn’t read, but she put her hand on his shoulder and pulled him into a hug. She didn’t even flinch at how cold his ghost form was.

“Of course, little brother. We’ll figure this out, okay?”

He hummed, wrapping his own arms around Jazz. They remained like that for some time, and Danny felt the last of his dread and panic melt away. Jazz was here, Jazz would help him. Everything was going to be okay.

The assurances no longer felt hollow, like they had before.

Finally releasing him, Jazz put her hands on her hips, face settling on a determined expression. “So, first things first. How much are you going to tell them?”

“Uh, everything, I guess.” He shrugged, biting the inside of his cheek. “Well, except for the Phantom part, they don’t need more encouragement to shoot at me.”

“You’re not going to tell them about Phantom? Are you sure?” She set a scrutinizing gaze on him, and he pointedly ignored her by turning away.

“Jazz…” he sighed, deflating. He shook his head, then turned back to look at her again. “If this goes well I’ll tell them, okay?”

She nodded, before cutting back to the original subject. “Alright, so you’re going to tell them that you got into an accident with the Portal, and that you instantly became a ghost, and that you freaked out and decided to bury your body and pretend nothing happened. Does that sound about right?”

“Yeah, I guess so. You think that that’ll be enough?”

She offered him a smile, and he felt himself calm down even further. “Of course it will be enough. The only reason they freaked out is because they care about you.”

Jazz looked him over for a moment longer before her eyes softened again. “Do you have somewhere to stay for tonight?”

“Uh, yeah, Sam and I are sleeping over at Tucker’s place.” Knowing what she was about to ask, he elaborated. “I’ve had dinner at his place too. Don’t worry Jazz, you’re not the only one making sure that I take care of myself.”

She huffed and rolled her eyes, but ignored the jab. “Good, good. Come by tomorrow after breakfast and we’ll talk this through with mom and dad.”

He groaned, grimacing. He knew that he had to talk with his parents. That was the whole point of talking with Jazz. That didn’t make the thought of coming over and facing his parents any more appealing.

Seeing his hesitation, Jazz spoke again, with a soothing but somewhat stern tone. “Danny, don’t worry about it. Everything will be fine, I promise. Now go and get some sleep, because you need it.”

He eyed her for a moment. Sighing, he rubbed in his eyes with his fingers. “Yeah, alright. Thanks, Jazz.”

“That’s what I’m here for, little brother. Now go, shoo.” She made some shooing motions with her hands as she said it. Danny grinned at her before tugging on his invisibility, disappearing from sight.

Jazz watched him leave, before shaking her head, a fond smile on her face.

The next day, not long after when he would normally have eaten breakfast with his family, Danny found himself hesitating on the steps of his house.

Had this been an ordinary Saturday, he would have been in the kitchen now, breakfast just finished but everyone still lingering around. But, unfortunately, it wasn’t a regular Saturday. Hell, Danny didn’t know if he would ever have a regular Saturday with his family again.

But no matter how much he wanted to leave, he couldn’t. No matter how badly he wanted to put off this confrontation, Jazz was waiting for him. And no matter how much bad everything got, he knew Jazz would come through for him.

He clung onto that thought, took a deep, fortifying breath, and entered the house.

Quiet chattering came from the kitchen, and Danny made his way over. He watched them for a moment from the doorway. They were all sitting at the table, the remnants of breakfast put away. It was a rare occasion, since there weren’t even any inventions of his parents’ around.

He didn’t get long to observe before his dad spotted him, however. The man grinned widely at him, and Danny felt his hopes lift. Maybe his parents had already gotten over him being a ghost?

“Danny-boy!” Jack boomed, but suddenly his face soured, and Danny’s hopes were crushed again. Apparently his ever-brilliant dad just forgot about their last interaction. His mother’s face also fell, and Danny almost winced at their expressions.

Jazz, however, shot him a warm smile, and grabbed their parents before they could pull out any of their weapons. That didn’t stop them from attacking with their words, however.

“What are you doing here, ghost?” Maddie hissed. “Haven’t you caused us enough pain yet?”

This time Danny actually winced, and Jazz glared at their mother.

“Mom!” she chastised. “I asked Danny to come over, not that it should have been necessary, since he lives here.”

“Jazz, honey,” their mother tried to soothe her. “That’s not your brother. That’s some foul ghost playing a sick game of pretend.”

“No, you listen to me!” Jazz continued to glare, so angry it was almost tangible. “Danny has been a ghost for two years, but he never told you. And this is exactly why! And despite knowing that this is how you would react, he still came over to tell you what happened! And you won’t even let him!”

It remained silent for a few infinitely long minutes. Both of their parents were visibly working through this new information, processing it- and everything it meant.

“Jazz, you knew? How- How long have you known?” Danny had never heard his dad so quiet, and he hated it. He hated everything about this conversation. He could barely stop himself from turning invisible, his emotions churning and stormy. He forced himself to stay focused on the conversation, however.

“I’ve known pretty much from the start, but he told me about a year ago. And yes, I know the entire story.” Jazz looked over at Danny, clearly hoping that he would take over to tell the story.

But Danny could barely pay attention to the conversation, let alone play an actual part in said conversation. Seeing this, Jazz picked up the slack again.

“Do you remember when he had an accident in the lab, in freshman year?”

Their parents glanced at each other, sharing a brief but silent conversation before relaxing a little. “Was that it? Was it- Was it one of our inventions that- that killed our son?”

Danny could hear how close his mom was to tears, and he sighed, inadvertently drawing the attention back to himself. He uncertainly rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, kinda. It was the Portal. I uh, may or may not have turned it on while I was inside.” He shrugged at them, smiling sheepishly. “You put the ‘on’ button on the inside, that’s why it didn’t work.”

“Sufferin’ spooks,” Jack swore quietly, eyes locked on Danny.

“But if it was the Portal, then how did your,” her breath caught for a second, “your body end up in the woods?”

“I- We panicked, okay?” He wrung his hands uncertainly as he spoke. “We didn’t know what to do and we didn’t know what happened and we were all really freaked out so we decided to just bury my body in the woods and pretend it never happened.”

“Oh sweetie,” Maddie mumbled, standing up from her chair and walking over to Danny. She touched his face, gently, before pulling him against herself, hugging him. “Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for everything.”

Danny stiffened momentarily, before the events sunk in and he wrapped his arms around his mom. “It’s- It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” Before he could say more, however, a second pair of arms wrapped around the two of them.

“Oh Danny-boy,” his father muttered, and Danny was shocked to see tears forming in his dad’s eyes. “I- We-” The man murmured uncertainly, tripping over his own words.

“No, no, don’t blame yourselves.” Danny pulled himself partially out of the hug so he could look his parents in the eyes. “I don’t blame you, okay? Not for anything. None of it is your fault. Not the accident, not the- the events yesterday. None of it. Okay?”

His parents nodded at him, uncertainly, and he nodded back. Finally they broke apart again, and as they smiled at him, Danny found that he couldn’t keep the truth to himself any longer.

“Actually,” he started, before hesitating. He anxiously licked his lips, and glanced over to see Jazz nodding her approval. Thus steeling his resolve, he cleared his throat and started again. “Actually, there’s something else that I need to tell you. Uh, promise you won’t freak out?”

“Oh sweetie, of course. You can tell us anything.” His mom laid her hand on his shoulder, her smile a little more uncertain but still kind.

He nodded, smiling back, but carefully shook off her hand and stepped away. Then he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, focusing on the feeling of ectoplasm coursing throughout him. He braced himself, then called on his ghostly core, letting its power wash over him. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes again, looking away from his parents.

“I’m, uh. I’m Danny Phantom too. This,” he made a vague hand motion towards himself, “is what I actually look like as a ghost.”

Suddenly he was drowning in warmth again. His father hugged him, ruffling a hand through his hair. “Look at my son the ghost hunter! I knew you would follow my footsteps!”

Danny grinned at his dad. “Yeah, I guess I had some good role models.” Seeing his dads uncertain expression, he winked theatrically.

“Well, I still think that Phantom has done some… questionable things,” Maddie trailed off, apprehensively. “But… knowing you as I do, I’m guessing that you can explain all of that?”

“He can, trust me.” Jazz cut in, not wanting to ruin to moment for Danny by having him recall those events. “He has told me everything, about all of that and more.”

Maddie nodded, and once more smiled warmly at her daughter, and then at her son as well. “Then I must say that I’m proud of my ghost-hunting son as well. My own little superhero, huh?”

She re-joined the hug as well, and Jack grabbed Jazz and pulled her in as well. Danny melted away in the familial love, feeling far happier than he had in a long time.

But he knew that the same didn’t go for his parents. They thought that they had killed him, for fuck’s sake! He said he didn’t blame them, and he didn’t, but it wasn’t enough. The guilt would be eating them alive. That was the main reason why he hadn’t told them before. After the Reality Gauntlet thing, he knew that they would accept him. It was their reaction to themselves he was most afraid of. As long as they thought that they had killed him, they would feel guilty about it.

So what if they knew that they hadn’t killed him? After all, he wasn’t actually dead, was he? So maybe- maybe if he told them, they would be happy too?

And surely if they accepted him as a full ghost, they would accept him as a half-ghost too? It was weird, yes, but they were his parents. They had said it themselves, in that alternate reality. It didn’t matter if he was a ghost, or a human, or a little of both.

He took in the moment a little longer, letting the warmth soak into him. Then he phased through the arms holding him in place, grimacing at the startled expressions of his family. He released his hold on his ghost form, allowing the warmth of his human body to roll over him again. It was little compared to the familial warmth he had just given up, but it was better than nothing.

“I-” He hesitated, cleared his throat again. “There’s something more. Something else I need to mention as well.”

Jazz quirked a questioning eyebrow at him, before she realized what he was going for. She also untangled herself from the group hug, walked over to Danny, and wrapped a supportive arm around his shoulders. He looked at her, uncertainly, but she nodded her approval.

“I’m not- I’m only half ghost.”

Silence lingered for a few, uncomfortable seconds. The expressions on the faces of his parents had shifted, an array of emotions that he couldn’t decipher playing on their faces.

He bit his lip, glancing at Jazz for strength. Then he took another deep breath, looking his parents in the eyes.

“I’m not actually dead. I’m only half ghost. I, uh. I don’t know the exact science behind it and stuff. But that’s why I can switch.”

“Sweetie,” his mom said, softly. “There are all kinds of ghosts who can take on a more human appearance. You don’t have to lie, to yourself or to us, okay?”

“But it’s- it’s different! The ghosts know it too! They call me a halfa, a human-ghost hybrid.” He groaned, mussing up his hair with his hands. He had to convince them, somehow. But how?

Suddenly an idea struck him, and he strode towards his parents. He pulled off his moms glove, and placed her bare fingers against his neck.

“Danny, what-”

“Feel it. Feel my heartbeat. Ghosts can’t replicate that, can they?”

She opened her mouth, about to protest, but suddenly stilled. Her eyes grew wide. She glanced at Jack, uncertainly, and then back at Danny.

“How?”

He shrugged, offering a sheepish smile. “Like I said, I don’t really know how it works. Running theory is that it has something to do with the supercharged ectoplasm in the Portal.”

Frowning, Jack inserted himself into the conversation. “So why not tell us from the start? Why make us think you were a ghost?”

Danny shrugged again. “It’s… hard to explain. Mostly, I don’t tell anyone because it’s kind of hard to believe?” He grimaced. “And right after the accident, I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t get my powers to work right so I couldn’t prove that I was telling the truth.”

His mom finally pulled her fingers away from Danny’s neck, slowly putting the glove back on. She frowned as well. “But then what about the body?”

“Well, I’m not a scientist, obviously. And the only other halfa I know of… Well, I’m not really on speaking terms with him, so I couldn’t ask him either.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But what I- What we think happened is that my DNA was altered by the ectoplasm. But you can’t just infuse a body with ectoplasm, so a new one had to be formed. Or something like that.”

“Well, son, how about this,” Jack said, pulling out a chair and gesturing for Danny to sit down. “Why don’t you tell us exactly what happened, and then we’ll figure all of this out together. As a family.”

Danny nodded, smiling, and sat down.

“Alright, so it all started two years ago, in August...”

#danny phantom #phanfiction #phanfic #dp fanfiction #dp fanfic #danny fenton #jazz fenton #maddie fenton #jack fenton #dark writes #disinterred #okay i THINK that that's all the tags i need #look good things happen for once!#but it's obviously not gonna last #since the title for next chapter is:#offer me that deathless death

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artificialqueens · 8 years ago

Text

Not So Single AF (Bitney) - Lemonade

AN: so i know they wrapped filming for this, but it’s such a good opportunity for a fic so why not? there’s a bit of biadore friendship (just friendship no romantic undertones promise!!) in the beginning so yeah…hope y’all enjoy!!

Summary: A jealous, insecure Roy flies to Paris during the filming of MTV’s Single AF.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

It seemed all Roy did these past few weeks was tap through Courtney’s Instagram story over, and over, and over again. He was sure he watched that video of Shane kissing- whoever the fuck (he didn’t care what their name was, he just cared that they were kissing his boyfriend) about a hundred times before the story finally expired.

“I don’t know why you told him you were okay with all of this if you were just gonna sit on the couch the entire month and obsess over what he’s doing.” Danny, who was in town for the next few days chimed in. Roy shot them a death glare over the screen of his phone before going back to replaying Courtney’s Instagram story for the fourth time. “Because,” Roy started, wincing a little as Shane kissing what’s his name replayed on his screen. It felt like a punch to the gut, but he couldn’t stop subjecting himself to it. “If I told him not to do this he would hate me. He would go on and on about how I’m always on tour, and how the one time he wants to do something I won’t let him.” Truthfully, Roy didn’t think it would bother him this much. He wasn’t ignorant, he knew watching his boyfriend of two years pretending to be single would hurt, but he didn’t think it would hurt this bad. He didn’t know he was insecure enough to think Shane would leave him, or sleep with these guys, but turns out he was; It was eating him alive. He also didn’t want to take a career opportunity away from Shane. Now Roy wasn’t sure if this was an opportunity to advance his career, or an opportunity to drop his ass out on the street.

“ I don’t know, Roy. Going on tour is one thing, you’re not sticking your tongue down hot guys throats-” Roy raised an eyebrow at Danny. “You think they’re hot? Hotter than me?” Danny knew it wasn’t the best choice to laugh at Roy’s insecurity yet there they were cackling on his couch. “You sound like a fucking teenage girl, get yourself together.” They playfully hit him in the face with a pillow that Roy just pushed away. “And no, they’re not hotter than you. The point I’m trying to make is that when you go on tour, you’re not sucking face and pretending to be single for a shitty reality show. I’m sure Shane would have understood if you told him you were uncomfortable with it.” Having it laid out in front of him like that put the situation into a perspective Roy hadn’t viewed it from.

“It’s too late now anyway.” Roy shook his head. Shane had already been on all of his dates and chose someone to take to Paris with him. Roy just had to suffer through maybe another week until Shane got home. “What if things are different when he comes back?” Roy thought out loud, trying to bounce things off of Danny to get a rational outsiders view. Maybe he was too close to the situation and was blowing it totally out of proportion. “Why would it be? Do you think he’s like, really gonna fall in love on an MTV reality show?” Roy shrugged his shoulders, not looking up from his phone. “He fell in love with me on a logo reality show.” Roy mumbled under his breath, his tone completely defeated. He felt so pathetically insecure he couldn’t even make eye contact with his best friend who had seen him in far worse conditions. “Or maybe he just got fucked by them.” Danny’s whole demeanor softened when they heard true fear cracking through Roy’s voice. They scooted closer to him, rubbing his back. “He’s not gonna do that to you, Roy. He loves you. He asked if you were okay with this because he didn’t want you to get hurt in the process. You told him it was fine, he doesn’t know that it isn’t. I’m sure if he could see how upset you are he’d pull the plug on the whole thing.”

Danny’s words comforted Roy, putting his thoughts, at least for the time being, at ease. “Still, I don’t like that he’s in Paris with this guy.” A mischievous smile spread across Danny’s lips, Roy instantly knew they had something up their sleeve. “Oh god, what is it?” Roy questioned, almost a little scared to hear what Danny’s chaotic brain came up with. They just continued to smile, grabbing their phone and furiously tapping on the screen for the next few minutes. “I just booked you a flight to Paris.” Danny’s phone dinged. “And here’s Court’s hotel information.” They forwarded it to Roy, who was shocked, and quite pleased with what Danny had done. “Go remind your man why he fell in love with you in the first place.”

—

Roy was over an hour early for his flight, the butterflies flapping around in his stomach didn’t let him sleep more than three hours that night and he was too anxious to just sit around at home. So here he was, pacing back and forth in an almost empty airport looking like a complete mad man. He was sure the security guard on duty had been keeping an eye on him the whole time.

He pulled out his phone to text Danny.

Roy: What if this is a huge mistake and he thinks I’m some kind of creep for flying all the way out to Paris without even telling him?

Danny: Wow you must be nervous you’re not even tying in caps

Danny: He’s not gonna think it’s weird you’re his boyfriend! He’s gonna think it’s romantic and probably suck your dick on sight

Danny: Don’t worry it’s gonna be fine Roy you’re overthinking it

Danny was right, Roy was overthinking it. He was just flying out to surprise his boyfriend. Nothing too overly obsessive about that, right? He noticed he was psyching himself out again and quickly shook the thoughts. This had to be done. He had to show Shane that he was the one, not some random he found on a dating show.

Roy: Thank you Danny

Roy: I’ll let you know how it goes

—

Roy let out a shaky breath. He was standing in front of Shane’s hotel room, fearing all the things he convinced himself he could be walking into. He thought if he saw Shane with another man he would actually, quite literally, drop dead. His heart would just stop beating at the sight, that’s when he realized: I’m hopelessly in love with this man. Roy always knew he loved Shane, but this whole ordeal really put into perspective how important Shane was to him. How he had become such an intricate part of Roy’s life that Roy couldn’t picture a life without him. Behind that door Shane could be fucking someone, or kissing someone, or blowing someone, or the absolute worst case scenario : falling in love with someone.You’ll never know if you don’t go in there Roy. He could be playing fucking scrabble. His inner voice encouraged him, though it sounded more like Danny than his own thoughts.

Knock. Knock.

This was it. No turning back.

Shane was laying in bed alone, scrolling through Instagram bored out of his mind when he heard knocking. The blond rolled his eyes, getting up to answer the door. “Lucas, you know you’re not suppose to be here when the cameras aren’t.” He yelled from the opposite side of the door. Roy was beyond happy to hear that, the nerves in his stomach settling a bit. At least Shane didn’t sound like he wanted to see this kid other than when they had filming requirements.

“I have a fucking boyfriend, how many times do I have to tell you that?” Shane flung the door open, the aggravation in his eyes melted into a wide-eyed surprised expression, his jaw practically hitting the floor before contorting in to a wide smile. “Roy!” He yelled, jumping right into his loves arms. He was speechless, his hands slightly shaking as Roy squeezed him tightly. As Shane nuzzled his face into the crook of Roy’s neck all of Roy’s worries melted away. Shane loved him. Shane seemed to be sick to death of this Lucas kid. And Shane was more excited to see Roy right now than his dogs were when he came home from a long tour. He didn’t even know what he was worried about, and felt quite silly about it as he held Shane.

“What are you doing here?” Shane asked, looking like he was on the brink of (happy) tears. “I wanted to surprise you.” That was partially a lie. He wanted to surprise Shane sure, but being a jealous insecure fuck was the driving force of this trip. “And maybe I was a little nervous that you would fall in love with someone else and leave me forever.” Roy blurted out as Shane stepped aside to let him in. “What?” Shane couldn’t be more perplexed by what had just come out of Roy’s mouth. He sat down on the bed, patting the spot next to him signaling for Roy to come over. “Baby what are you talking about?” Shane’s eyebrows laced together, his hand rubbing softly against Roy’s arm. Shane never took Roy for the insecure type. He never thought he would be hearing anything like this coming from him. He was glad in way though, that Roy was opening up to him. He wasn’t always the most vulnerable person in the world, it had been like pulling teeth to get a real show of emotion out of him so this seemed like a step in the right direction for their relationship.

“I just…” Roy sighed. Shane moved closer to him. “It’s okay,” He was rubbing his back now. “take your time. Don’t rush yourself.” Shane encouraged him. The last thing he wanted was for Roy to feel pressured to open up to him, or share more than he wanted to. This was a rare occurrence for Roy and Shane wanted him to be as comfortable as possible.

“Just… seeing you with all of those guys.” The Instagram stories Roy had burned into his memory replayed in his mind. All the dates, all the kisses, all the gushing. It all flooded back into Roy’s head and chipped at his heart. Hot tears began to stream down his face, Shane was completely taken back. In all of the time he knew Roy he had very seldom seen him cry, so for him to be a tearful mess in front of him had to mean he was in horrible pain. Shane wrapped an arm around Roy, pulling him into his side while the other hand wiped away his tears. “It just hurt so much.” Roy sobbed, his voice breaking. Shane began cooing to him, rocking him back and forth to calm him. “Roy, I’m so sorry.” Guilt seeped into the cracks in Shane’s heart that seeing Roy cry carved into it.

Shane gave Roy a few minutes to collect himself in silence before grabbing his face and looking deep into the most beautiful pair of brown eyes he’d ever seen. “I love you. Roy, I love you so much. I’m never gonna look at anyone else and think about being with them because I already have the best person in the world.” Shane began to tear up himself, his feelings for Roy so intense they were slightly overwhelming him. “I’m so sorry I made you feel like you had to worry. I’m so sorry this hurt you so much. I love you. I’ll always love you. You’re my favorite person in the world, and the love of my life. I never want you to second guess that, or ever think that there will ever be anyone better for me, because there won’t. You’re it, and I’m happy with you. I love you, pussyface.” Shane pressed his lips to Roy’s before embracing him in a hug.

–

They went to dinner that night, then hit some common tourist-y spots. Shane wanted to make up for all the hurt this stupid show caused the love of his life by blowing off the cameras and scheduled date to be with Roy. If Lucas wouldn’t accept the fact that Shane had a boyfriend before, the moaning he heard from the room adjacent to him made him face it in the most uncomfortable way. Shane had passed out hours ago across Roy’s chest, but all Roy wanted to do was run his hand through Shane’s short hair, and bask in the feeling of having his boyfriend back in his arms.

“Oh.” He mumbled to himself, knowing he was forgetting something and reaching over to the nightstand where his phone was.

Roy: HUGE FUCKING SUCCESS

Danny: Told you so :)

#bianca del rio #courtney act #adore delano #bitney #angst #fluff #lemonade #rpdr fanfiction #canon compliant

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