#so maybe more of a grown up danny from the second book??

[buttered-milky]

Jerma taking a wall out in the dollhouse has the same energy as Jack Nicholson splitting open a door in the shining

[five-rivers]

Cracked Clay Cup Chapter 4

Phic Phight Phic! @greatbigolhampuckjustforme

“Ughh,” said Danny, falling onto Clockwork’s couch.  

Yes.  Danny.  Despite Jazz lying to him a lot, the name had grown on him.  She wasn’t bad.  Just.  Bad at lying.  And sort of… constantly suspicious.  And definitely not his mother.  He was pretty sure she cared about him.  No one who didn’t care about him would push schoolwork that hard.  

Unless she’d been trying to harvest his brain.  

Yeah, he’d sort of decided that wasn’t what was going on by the end of the second day.  It was still kind of fun to say.  Jazz’s face had made some very funny movements when he brought it up.  It was kind of… endearing.  Yeah.  

“Hello, Daniel,” said Clockwork.  “I take it you had a good time with Miss Jasmine.”

“It was… A time.  I think she did know me before.  She had a lot of funny stories from when I was a kid.  And she had a really nice bedroom for me.  They do their own decorating, right?”

“They acquired and furnished the homes you will be staying in from their own resources, but they may have hired decorators.”

“Okay.  She had very strong opinions about schoolwork.”

“You will find that many of your potential guardians have strong feelings regarding your education.”

“Great,” said Danny.  He rubbed his face.  “Now what?  Do I just jump right into the next one, or do I get, like, a grace period or something?”

“You can take as long to recover from your experience as you’d like.”  He sounded amused.  “You don’t need to push yourself.”

“Mhm,” said Danny.  He stared up at the ceiling.  “Can I see the list again?”

Clockwork set the folder gently down on his lap.  

“Thanks,” said Danny, opening the folder.  “I was thinking about going to the other extreme this time around.  The oldest.  Which page are they?”

“Green,” said Clockwork.  

Danny looked up.  Clockwork’s tone had seemed… off.  But his expression wasn’t any different.  What Danny could see of it, anyway.  He’d turned slightly away, so he only saw the edge of his face.  

He looked back at the manilla folder and the green piece of paper.  

“So,” he said, “ do you know this… Oculus and Orbis?  Those are kind of weird names.  Maybe not too weird for ghosts, though.  Oculus and Orbis.  Eye… and also eye.  Wow.  Wonder if I’m going from someone who wants to steal my brains to someone who wants to steal my eyes.”

“They won’t try to steal your eyes.”

That sounded unconvincing in the extreme.  

“Are you sure?”

“Relatively so.”  That actually sounded rather threatening.  Danny gave him another look, but, again, he seemed fine.  Mostly fine.  

“So…  Married couple.  That’s different.  Maybe they’ll be more like grandparents?  Interests… Coloring.  I guess they mean, like, adult coloring books?  That’s pretty cool, I didn’t mind drawing at Jazz’s.  Watching…  I think they must have left something off here, it just says watching.  Watching… Sunsets?  TV?  Movies?”

“You will have to wait and see,” said Clockwork as he adjusted a painting on the wall.  It was of something generic and pastoral, but it was nice.  

“And… ew.  Astrology.  Do they really like astrology?”

“I can only refer you back to the information sheet.”

“Okay,” said Danny.  “Fortune telling isn’t real, right?”

“It depends on your point of view.”

“You can time travel, right?”

“That is within my powerset, yes.”

“Huh,” said Danny.  “So, you could see the future.”

“I could,” said Clockwork.  “To some degree.”

“So, you already know who I will pick.”

“Not exactly,” said Clockwork.  “Time follows a somewhat more complicated path than that of an arrow.”

“An arrow’s path doesn’t have to be simple, anyway.  It bends, because of gravity.  Unless you’re in space.”

“Indeed.  Have you eaten dinner?”

“Not yet,” said Danny.  “But shouldn’t you already know that?”

“It is polite to ask.”

.

Danny laid awake in bed.  He missed the stars in the bedroom he had at Jazz’s.  The blankets were comfier here, though.  And there were more pillows.  Tradeoffs.  He still hadn’t asked Clockwork if he’d done his own decorating.  

Yeah.  It wasn’t at all bad here.  But he wondered if he had, maybe, acted too quickly with leaving Jazz.  

It was a little too late to doubt his decision, though.  He couldn't undo it.  Not without Clockwork cooperating.  He didn't really want to undo it, anyway.  There were all the other people to visit and figure out and whatever.  

Hopefully, by the end, he'd be able to figure out enough to understand himself. 

He held his hand up over his head, fingers splayed, and tried to reach for the spark of transformation that Jazz swore up and down existed.  Nothing happened.

He sighed and rolled over in bed.  He'd think about it in the morning.  Or never.  Never sounded good. 

.

Danny bounced down the stairs two at a time.  “Breakfast?” he asked, hopefully.  

“Potatoes o'brien with gravy and eggs,” said Clockwork.  “I must confess, I’m surprised you aren’t flying down the stairs.”

“Haven’t really figured it out properly yet,” said Danny, throwing himself into a chair.  “I kept trying at Jazz’s, but I kept running into the walls and ceiling and stuff.  And where would I fly to, anyway?”

“I see,” said Clockwork, sounding vaguely amused.  

“Not what you expected of me, huh?”

“Not particularly.”

“Well, that’s just what happens when you erase someone’s memory and throw them into weird situations with redheads that are a little too obsessed with brain surgery.”

Clockwork’s answering hum was definitely amused.

“Would you like juice with your breakfast?”

“Do you have hot chocolate?” asked Danny.  “With whipped cream?”

“I do,” said Clockwork.  “Would you like some?”

“Please.”

Clockwork pulled an enameled teakettle from one of the cabinets and set it on the stovetop.  The enamel was purple, of course.  

“Are you still set on visiting Oculus and Orbis next?”

“I mean, I’d have to visit them eventually, anyway, right?  That’s the rule, isn’t it?”

“Technically speaking, no.  If you feel a strong enough connection with one of the candidates, you can forgo meeting the rest of them.”

“Wow,” said Danny.  “You really don’t like them.”

“I do not want my feelings to influence you.”

“That’s not a denial.”

Clockwork set the plate down in front of Danny.  “I do not want my feelings to influence you, negative or positive.”

“Sure,” said Danny.  He started to shove food in his mouth.  “So, Jazz told me something weird when I was over there.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.  Something about me being half ghost.”

“Ah, yes.”

“Yes?  Yes?  You mean that’s a real thing?”

“To some degree, yes,” said Clockwork.

“What does that mean?”

“You have a variety of extremely rare abilities,” said Clockwork.  “Whether those are the results of being half ghost, part human, a superb but singular transformation ability, or something else… That is a matter for debate.”

“Okay, so, transformation.  How?”

“Alas, for all that I can see, I cannot see into your mind.  I do not know how your transformations felt to you, nor how you accomplished them.”

“Oh,” said Danny, pushing around a stray piece of egg on his plate.  That was unhelpful, but he supposed it made sense.  “There’s not anything going on like, um, you’re keeping me from transforming on purpose?  Like how you said you’ve changed my appearance.”

“No,” said Clockwork.  

“Okay,” said Danny.  He scraped together the last of the potatoes.  “I’m going to go get ready before I go.  I’m still going to Oculus and Orbis.”

“Mm,” said Clockwork.  

Yeah, Danny could definitely tell Clockwork didn’t like those two.  This would probably be short, compared to his stay with Jazz.  He went upstairs and brushed his teeth before changing.  Jazz had gotten on his case about that more than once.  

What to wear today… hm…  He flipped through his closet.  Hm.  How about the skirt…  It was a nice silvery green.  And what to go on top?  That jacket was about the same length as the shirt.  And, hm, he didn’t feel like going pants-less… Or stockings.  Maybe capris?  He could do capris.  Those were cool.  Then he could show off the socks Jazz had given him.  

Were those here?  He looked through the sock drawer.  They were.  Huh.  

He really wished Jazz had been honest with him.  He really did.  And maybe a little bit less crazy about school.  Because he was absolutely sure that what she’d had him doing was over and above what schools would do.  

He pulled on his solar system socks.  

Okay.  He was ready.  

He went downstairs.  “I’m ready.”

“I see that,” said Clockwork.  “Your socks are very nice.”

“Oh, thanks!”  

Clockwork tilted his staff to the side and a portal formed.  “As before, press the button when you are ready to return.”

Danny nodded and stepped through.  Once the blue rush of the portal cleared from his ears and eyes, he found himself in a massive marble foyer.  Circular decorations in black and gold were inset in the stone.  Waiting in the center, holding on to each other’s elbows, were the strangest couple Danny had ever seen.  

Well, they were the only couple Danny had ever seen.  They were tall, robed in rich fabrics trimmed in gold and black.  Their skin was a textured, vivid green, and they were totally bald.  Well.  They were wearing wigs, but they were very obviously wigs.  One wig was blonde and long, the other was silver and short.  Both of them covered their eyes.  One was also wearing a long skirt and delicate jewelry.  The other wore bulky jewelry, gloves, and some sort of black sheath over its tail.  

“Phantom,” they said, simultaneously, spreading their arms wide. 

“My dear,” said the one in the skirt in a surprisingly high-pitched voice, “it is so good to see you again.”

“You haven’t had any problems with the riff-raff harassing us with this ludicrous custody dispute, have you, son?” asked the other, in a surprisingly low-pitched voice.  

“No?” said Danny, dodging a hug.  “I haven’t had any trouble.”

“Excellent news!  But now you’re back with us,” said the deep-voiced and vaguely masculine one.  “So you don’t need to worry about it anymore.  All our worries are over.  From now on, we have all our days ahead of us, full of joy and light!”

Danny… was pretty sure that last sentence didn’t make sense.  

“Yes, yes,” said the higher-pitched one.  “We will care for you now and forever.  Your days will be filled with the luxury you so richly deserve.”

“Luxury, huh?”

“Of course, love,” said the high-pitched one.  “Luxury, beyond the dreams of the masses.  Not your dreams, of course.”

“Um,” said Danny.  

“The best foods, the best clothes, the best games–  Everything those other fools would deny you!”

Danny had the distinct sense he was being bribed.  

“Okay,” he said, “but, um, what are your names?”

They looked at each other.  “I am Oculus,” said the low-pitched one.  

“I am Orbis,” said the high-pitched one.  

“Right,” said Danny.  “And who is Phantom?  Is that some kind of ghost pet name?”

“It is your name,” said Orbis.  

“Oh,” said Danny.

“Did Clockwork not tell you?”

“He told me my name is Daniel.”

“Hm,” said Orbis.  

“Hm,” said Oculus.  “Be that as it may, your name is most certainly Phantom.  You have no other.”

Yeah.  Danny wasn’t buying that.  

“Okay,” he said, out loud.  “So, um, how do I know you guys?”

“Well,” said Orbis, sniffing slightly, “we rescued you from those awful ghost hunters, didn’t we?  They treated you so terribly, we couldn’t help but intervene, and then, well, we fell in love with you.  Who couldn’t?”  They started laughing.  The laughter went on for… a while.  

Danny smiled tightly and nodded.  

“But enough of that!” said Oculus.  “We must give you the grand tour!  Show you all the things that are now, and will forever be, yours!”

What followed was a lengthy hike through an absolutely enormous, almost castle-like mansion.  There was so much stuff.  So many things.  Toys, furniture, games, computers, decorations, flowers, perfumes, food.  It was dizzying.  

“And,” said Oculus, gesturing grandly at a set of rooms larger than Jazz’s entire place, “these are your rooms!  There’s an ensuite - with a pool of course - and your favorite video games, and we can’t forget your mini-kitchen, completely stocked–”

Danny sort of tuned them out as they went down the list of things in the rooms, eyes sliding over various accouterments and accommodations.  It was all very nice.  But it was also, somehow, empty.  

Well, the stuff was cool.  He didn’t understand what was going on with the people, but… He could stay here a few days.  

.

Danny wandered the frankly enormous house, looking for his supposed guardians.  He was pretty sure it was in the middle of afternoon, and he had yet to see them.  This, he thought, was not conducive to actually getting to know them.  

So, he was searching as methodically as he could, given the nonsensical layout.  There was a swimming pool in the middle of a ring of kitchens, for goodness sake.  There was a library in the basement.  

But finally, he did it.  

“Uh,” said Danny.  He was pretty sure this one was Orbis.  Long haired wig, light jewelry.  Yep.  “Orbis?”

They didn’t turn around.  

“Orbis?” he repeated.  He came close me.  “Excuse me?  Orbis?”  He tapped their shoulder.  They jumped about a foot.  

“Goodness, child!  Why didn’t you say something if you wanted my attention.”

“I… did,” said Danny.  “Are you not Orbis?”

“I,” said the ghost.  “Yes.”

The other ghost glided into the room.  “Did I hear someone calling me?” they asked.  They were dressed identically to the first.  

Danny looked between the two of them as they started gesturing emphatically at each other.  He knew that ghosts could be weird, and there were a number of different lifestyles that could result in… whatever this was… but he sort of didn’t think that was what was going on.  Actually, he didn’t–  Were these ghosts shorter than they were yesterday?  He hadn’t been paying all that much attention to their dimensions…

The gesture battle they were having, as if they thought he couldn’t see them, was definitely suspicious.  Was there a ghost version of sign language?

Yeah, this was escalating.  He edged closer to the arguing ghosts.  He was about to do something that could be considered socially crass, but…

His hand flashed out and grabbed the wig of the nearest ghost.  He pulled it loose.

Without the wig, the ghost was completely bald.  They were also obviously one-eyed.  They turned to stare at him, that one, huge, eye wide and alarmed.  

Now, Danny didn’t remember all that much, but he knew who the Observants were.  

“Yeah,” he said, grabbing the pocketwatch.  “I’m out.”

[alwaysonthemend]

Author's Note: I got a request about 10 million years ago for a fluffy Jake fic where he teaches you how to swim. I loved this prompt so much and I am SO SO SO SO SORRY it took this long. Like it’s embarrassing how long this took. I doubt the wait was worth it at this point but hey at least I actually posted it eventually lol. This has no smut which is very not like me but this Jake was just too sweet for it. I can't write Jake smut without it being filthy. Anyways, all mistakes are my own!

Warnings: Just fluff and cussing. Also Jake is adorable. 

Word Count: 3984

-------------------------

“Fuck!” 

You snapped your eyes up from your book just in time to see Jake go sailing off Daniel’s shoulders and into the waves, shouting expletives even after he hit the water. You can’t help but to smile as you take in the sight before you – Josh, sitting triumphantly atop Sam’s shoulders, sporting a shit-eating grin, Sam wearing an equally smug smile of his own, and Danny giggling as Jake resurfaces from underneath the waves. 

They’ve been playing chicken for what feels like hours – far longer than any grown men should be playing such a game but they’re enjoying themselves so you can’t really fault them. They’ve more than earned some time off with how crazy tour life has been. 

“I’m done with this shit.” Jake exclaims, trudging his way up from the water and onto the shore where you’ve been sitting. 

“You’re only saying that because you keep losing!!’ Sam calls after him, unceremoniously dumping Josh off his shoulders and into the water before following Jake out as well. 

“You fucker.” You hear Josh yell and you giggle at the scowl he shoots in Sam’s direction. 

Shaking your head, you close your book and look up to see Jake standing before you in all his glory. You allow yourself to drink in his form – his tanned skin looks almost golden in the afternoon light and the smile he’s giving you is downright radiant. His expression is shy and so very soft as he looks down at you. 

“Hi.” You say, smiling back up at him. Your relationship with Jake is still in its early stages – the both of you wildly in love with each other but still figuring out how to express it without feeling hopelessly awkward.

“Hi, angel.” He answers, extending both of his hands towards you. 

You grab hold of them and allow him to pull you upwards and into him, and your belly erupts in butterflies as he presses a soft kiss to your lips. 

“You taste like salt.” You say, grinning at him as you pull away. 

“I wonder why.” 

You nudge his shoulder playfully and pull yourself away from him, turning to look at the other three boys as they make it to your spot. 

“I can’t believe we’re at the beach and you haven’t even gotten in the water, Y/n.” Sam says, shaking his head at you as he grabs his towel to dry off. “That’s literally the point of coming to the beach.” 

You freeze for a second as you stoop down to grab your book before smoothing over your expression and plastering a smile over your face. 

“Maybe I just don’t want to get in the water with you all.” You tell him, turning away as you speak in the hopes that he doesn’t catch the lie. “I’d end up getting hurt with how rough you guys play.” 

“Or maybe she has a secret fear of getting wet.” Danny supplies, grabbing his own towel and scrunching up his curls to help dry them. 

“That’s why she’s dating Jake.” Josh says through a laugh before shaking his head like a dog and spraying the rest of you with droplets of saltwater. 

You turn away from him, trying and failing to protect your book from the water. 

“Oops.” He shrugs and gives you a sideways smile – the one he always gives when he knows he’s being a shit. 

“Fuck off.” Jake snarks back, shooting Josh the bird and turning to look at you for help. 

You laugh lightly, amused despite yourself at Josh’s ability to come up with a joke without missing a beat – and slightly thankful that he’s managed to effectively turn the conversation away from you and your lack of swimming. 

“Don’t worry, babe. You get me plenty wet.” You assure your boyfriend, lacing your fingers with his. 

Jake’s cheeks flush a bright red and he mumbles out a small, sheepish “thank you.” 

“Blech. Gross.” Sam says, breezing past the both of you to walk back towards the beach house that you all had rented. 

“Ready?” You ask, turning back to look at Jake. 

He nods at you and the rest of you begin to follow Sam back to the house. 

Jake falls into step beside you, allowing Josh and Danny to walk in front of the two of you. You walk at a slower pace, falling much farther behind the rest of the group. He’s still holding your hand and the feeling of his fingers interlaced with yours makes your heart flutter. 

“You know I wouldn’t let any of them hurt you or anything, right?” Jake asks, voice soft and too quiet for the others to hear. 

“Huh?” 

“In the water, I mean. You said you didn’t want to swim because of how rough we are.” He clarifies, jerking his head back towards the beach. “If you want to swim, I wouldn’t let them bug you or anything. Or we could come back tomorrow without them.” 

You’re silent for a moment, wracking your brains to try and come up with a response. Even after being able to officially call him yours for a few months now, his sweetness still manages to take you off guard sometimes. “Thank you, Jake. I know you wouldn’t let anything happen.” You finally settle on, giving him a smile. 

“Do you want to, then? We could come back tomorrow and just swim around – just me and you?” He’s looking at you all hopeful, and a sudden flash of guilt slices through you. You know how much he loves being at the beach and there isn’t a doubt in your mind that he would adore swimming with just the two of you. 

“Maybe. I was actually thinking of going into town for some shopping tomorrow, though.” You say, praying that your answer doesn’t disappoint him. 

“Oh.” He says, the glimmer in his eyes fading a little bit. “Okay. Maybe another time then.” 

Fuck. 

You open your mouth to invite him to come with you into town instead but you’re interrupted by Sam yelling from the deck of the beach house. 

“Would you two hurry the fuck up! I’m hungry!” 

“Coming, Samuel. Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Jake calls back, extracting his fingers from yours and jogging up the wooden steps onto the deck, leaving you with nothing but an intense feeling of guilt and shame. 

Slowly, you trudge your way up the stairs behind him, signing heavily at yourself. 

-⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️-

Dinner was proving to be  a loud affair – alcohol and good food making the boys even louder than they usually are (which really is saying something). Jake cooked, looking positively gorgeous as he flipped burgers on the grill. 

“That smells so fucking good.” Danny practically moaned, taking a seat in one of the patio chairs. 

“Course it does, Danny.” Jake grinned at him, face cocky and cheeks flushed from being out in the sun for so long. “I’m the meat man.” 

Sam let out a loud cackle, shaking his head into his drink. 

“I don’t think that means what you think it means, brother.” Josh tells him, amusement flickering over his face. 

Jake furrows his brows in confusion at him before turning to look at you for support. 

Grinning, you just shake your head at him. 

“Definitely not what you think it means, babe.” 

Once the burgers were finished (Jake had begrudgingly grilled a vegan burger for Sam with only a few protests), the five of you all decided to retire – all of the boys exhausted from their earlier antics down at the  beach. As you all said your goodnights, you couldn’t help but notice that Jake seemed a lot more reserved than he had before your earlier conversation. You knew him well enough to know that something was off with him. Though he would never say it, his feelings were definitely a little hurt after you’d declined going down to the beach with him. You know that sooner or later you’ll have to either fess up the truth or come up with a more convincing excuse. 

Once you make it to your room, you turn to see Jake gathering his things to go and take a shower. Without thinking – afraid of letting him leave with his feelings still hurt, you blurt out his name. 

“Yeah?” He says, looking up from his suitcase. 

“I-” You purse your lips, frustrated at yourself for saying something before you’d been able to come up with an excuse, 

“Is everything okay, angel?” 

You just shake your head, anxiety making the back of your neck feel hot. 

“If this is about not wanting to go down to the beach tomorrow, it’s okay.” He says simply, shrugging his shoulders and shooting you a sideways smile. “I can find something to do on my own.” He turns his back to you, making his way towards the bedroom door. 

“Jake, stop!” You call – louder than you meant to. 

Jake turns back to you, confusion evident on his face at your raised voice. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to.” You start, and you can feel your cheeks growing hot as your emotions start to get the better of you. You know it’s silly to be so upset – but you’re torn between hurting Jake’s feelings or revealing something that you never wanted to reveal. 

“Y/n,” Jake starts, placing his things on the dresser and crossing the room to stand in front of you. “I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to say here. But I promise you it’s okay that you want to do something else.” He assures you, placing his hands on your shoulders and squeezing lightly. 

“I do wanna go!” You insist, clenching your fists in frustration at yourself. “It’s just..”  

He raises an eyebrow at you, silently begging you to keep going. Ducking your head to look at your feet rather than at him, you allow your confession to slip past your lips. 

“I don’t know how to swim.”  

“What?”  

You flinch slightly, waves of embarrassment washing over you at the incredulity in his tone. 

“You don’t know how to swim?” He says, before giggling softly under his breath. 

“It’s not funny.” You say, finally turning up to look at him. You can feel tears threatening to fall and your bottom lip quivers as you fight to hold them back. 

“Hey, hey. No.” Jake slides his hands from your shoulders to your waist, holding you softly. “I’m not laughing at you, angel. I’m just laughing because I thought something was really wrong.”

His words do little to soothe your shame and you shake your head and try to pull away from him – but his grip on your waist only tightens. 

“Let me go.” You say petulantly, wanting nothing more than to go and sit alone somewhere in your misery.

“No.” 

“Jake…” You warn, dropping your shoulders in defeat. “Please let me go.” 

“Why?” 

“So I can go suffer in peace.” 

He chuckles again, sweet and genuine, and you can’t help the smile that wants to grace your lips at the sound. 

Jake lets go of your waist but his gaze pins you to the spot for a moment, He’s not looking at you any different than he usually does – only a small bit of amusement lingering on his face. 

“You could have told me that a whole lot sooner, ya know?” 

You shake your head. 

“It’s embarrassing. I mean, who else my age doesn’t know how to swim, Jake?” 

“Plenty of people!” Jake says, walking away from you to take a seat on the edge of the bed. He leans backwards, using his arms to brace himself as he leans back. Despite the situation, your eyes still roam his beautiful form – admiring the golden tan of his skin and the way his hair falls across his shoulders. 

“Swimming can be intimidating. That’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” 

You sigh heavily, looking away from him to stare at the wall. You’re not entirely sure what to say and the room lapses into silence for a moment. 

“I could teach you.” 

Your eyes snap back to him at that, eyeing him warily as he looks at you hopefully. 

“What?” 

“I could teach you to swim.” He continues, rising from his place to meet you in the middle of the room. “This house has a pool. The rest of the guys are probably asleep. Just you and me.” “I don’t know…” You trail off, biting your lip as your nerves make themselves known. You’ve put off learning to swim for so long that the fear has begun to fester inside of you – becoming much stronger than it used to be. 

“I won’t make you if you don’t want to. But the offer’s there. I wouldn’t mind.” 

He’s standing in front of you again, hair framing his face and eyes soft. He smells like grill smoke and beach air and you can feel your resolve melting away by the second. 

“Okay.” You breathe out, glancing up at him again. 

A sweet smile spreads across his face, exposing his perfectly white teeth and making his eyes crinkle in the corners. 

“Come on, then!” He exclaims excitedly, grabbing a towel from his back and practically skipping to the bedroom door. 

“Now?” You ask, heart beginning to pound at just the thought. You were hoping you’d have a bit more time to mentally prepare. 

“The guys are asleep.” He starts kindly, lacing his fingers with yours and pulling you out of the bedroom. “It’ll literally just be you and me – no chance of any of them coming out to the pool at this hour.” 

You follow him down the stairs, shivering slightly as your bare feet hit the cold tile of the kitchen. Jake pulls open the sliding door for you with a smile, allowing you to step out onto the patio where you all had eaten dinner. The deck wraps around the side of the house and the pool lies in waiting to your right – dark and ominous as the reality of what you’ve agreed to do washes over you. 

“Jake…” You start, the dark water in the pool filling you with dread. 

“Oh shoot. Hold on.” Jake mutters, before scampering back inside. 

You furrow your brows in confusion before the pool is suddenly illuminated, the little lights on the walls coming to life beneath the water. 

“Figured doing it in the dark probably isn’t the best place to start.” Jake chuckles, walking back outside to come and stand next to you. He dumps his towel onto the deck before rounding the corner of the pool to the stairs. You watch as he walks down the steps and into the water, hissing slightly as his lower half becomes submerged.

“It’s a little cold.” He says with a sideways smile, fanning his hands out in the water on either side of him. The water on that end doesn’t look too deep, but you can’t help but eye the other end – clearly deeper than the side Jake is in. “Coming?” 

You nod, walking slowly over to the steps. You look into the water, clutching both of your hands closely to your chest. You take a step in and immediately the cold makes you want to pull your foot out. But you keep going, wading into the pool to stand next to Jake. 

Immediately, both his hands extend in the water to place two solid hands on your waist. 

“Hi.” He says with a smile, inclining his head at you slightly. “Not bad so far, right?” 

You shake your head slightly. 

“This isn’t the scary part.” You remind him, before nodding your head towards the deeper end of the pool. 

“Fair enough.” Jake affirms, gripping your hips a little tighter. “Put your hands on my shoulders and just hold on, okay?” 

You comply, placing your hands where he told you too. Slowly, Jake leads you both out towards the middle of the pool, only stopping when the water reaches up to your chest. 

“Damn.” Jake says with a grin. “Really holding on tight there, angel.” 

“Sorry.” You say, realizing how your fingertips had been digging into his shoulders. 

Jake giggles softly. 

“It’s okay.” He lets go of your waist and brings his hands up to grab your wrists, holding tightly to you as he bobs up and down slightly in the water. 

“What now?” You ask, trying to keep your heart rate steady. You glance downwards, eyeing the water warily. 

“Keep holding on to my shoulders and I want you to just let your legs relax.” He tells you, adjusting his grip on your wrists. “Just let them float up to the surface.”

You stare at him for a moment, unsure of yourself. 

“I’ve got you.” He assures you, smiling softly. 

Slowly, you allow your body to untense, relaxing your muscles and letting your body float in the water. Keeping your grip on his shoulders, your legs slowly start to float up towards the surface. 

“There ya go.” He grins. “Perfect. Now kick your feet.” 

You kick your feet half-heartedly in the water, barely causing a splash. 

“Harder.” Jake tells you. “Break the surface as much as you can. Sort of like you’re kicking downwards.”

You kick your legs harder, causing the water to splash upwards and spray the both of you. 

“Oops.” You laugh, the sound coming out breathy from your nerves. 

Both Jake’s hair and your own is now sopping wet – and you’re distracted for a moment by the sight of him. His hair sticks to the side of his face and neck, and you watch, entranced, as a single drop of water makes its way down his cheek and slides down his plush lips. 

“That was perfect.” Jake says with a smile, amusement flashing across his face after catching you staring. “Now you just gotta use your arms.”

Your eyes widen slightly. 

“So I’ve gotta let go of you, then?” You ask, trying to joke but there’s no real humor in it. 

Jake laughs anyway. 

“That would make it easier, yeah. I won’t let you drown. I promise.” 

“Thanks, babe.” You say, a hint of sarcasm sneaking into your tone. “Why did I let you talk me into this?” 

“Because you love me.” He says cheekily. 

You roll your eyes in response. 

“When you let go, I want you to keep kicking your feet under the water. Think about your arms going up and down, too. Kind of like a bird.”

“Like a bird?” You ask doubtfully, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I mean… kinda. Just move them up and down.”

You grumble at him, but slowly let go of his shoulders. He hovers his hands on your waist, helping to keep you afloat as you try and practice the motion. 

“I hate this. This is so stupid.” You mutter, feeling like you’ve never been more out of your element in your life. 

“That’s the spirit, babe.” 

You scowl.

“I’m gonna let go now and you just keep doing what you're doing.”

“What?” You squeak, snapping your gaze to meet his. “Don’t let go!” 

“You’ve got this!” He grins, extracting his grip from your waist. 

You flail in the water for a moment, arms and legs flapping and kicking around wildly. Eventually, the panic wears off and you calm your movements down, allowing your limbs to move more fluidly in the water. 

“Babe!” Jake grins, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re doing it. That’s called treading.” 

You can’t help the proud smile that overtakes your face at his praise and you can feel your cheeks heat slightly. 

Jake swims farther away from you – going more towards the deep end. 

“Swim towards me.” He commands, treading in place. 

“How the fuck am I supposed to do that?” 

“Kick your feet like earlier and tread with your hands. Simple doggy paddle. Right towards me.”

“Absolutely not.” You tell him, perfectly content to keep treading water where you are. “I’d rather not drown, thanks.”

“Y/n,” Jake starts, sounding like a father speaking to his kid. “Do you really think I’m going to let you drown? You’ve got this. I’m right here.” 

You sigh at him. 

“I hate you.” 

“No you don’t.” He says kindly. “Now come over here.” 

Begrudgingly, you do as he says – kicking your feet aggressively behind you as you paddle with your hands. Slowly but surely, you make your way over to him. 

As soon as you get close, Jake darts his hands out and grabs your shoulders – helping you to float next to him. 

“See?” He asks with a grin, eyes sparkling in the dim light, “Not so bad.” 

“I still don’t like this.” You mutter, mind half focused still on trying to tread the water next to him. 

Slowly, Jake lets go of your shoulders and the two of you just float in the middle of the pool for a moment.  

“You’ll get better at it.” He assures. 

Just then, you hear a car horn honk in the distance, drawing your attention away from Jake and towards where the sound came from. Seeing nothing, you look back towards your boyfriend only to be met with a face full of chlorine as he splashes you. 

“Jake!” You sputter, blinking your eyes to try and clear the water from them. “You fuck head!” 

“Oops.” He giggles – the sound so reminiscent of Josh it’s almost like his twin just came down and possessed him for a moment. Sometimes you forget that they’re twins until you’re so starkly reminded. 

“What?” 

Your bewilderment must have shown on your face. 

“Nothing.” You smile at him. “You just sounded exactly like Josh when you did that.”

“Ugh.” He groans, rolling his eyes and swimming away from you slightly. “Don’t tell me I remind you of that loser.”

“Jake, you’re twins. You two are so simila-” You’re cut off once again by a face full of water. 

“Those are fighting words, Y/n!” Jake says through a laugh, swimming farther into the pool. 

“Come back here, you ass!” You paddle your way towards him, muscles straining to try and keep up with him. 

“No!” He giggles, stopping for a moment to splash you again. 

This time, you see it coming and splash him first, causing him to sputter and cough as the water fills his mouth. 

The two of you descend into laughter as Jake swims away from you again, using his legs to kick water at you. You give chase, splashing him as well as you pursue him. 

Eventually too winded to continue, you give up your chase of him and just tread the water again, laughing breathlessly. Jake swims back over to you, his own laughter sounding like music to your ears. 

“Does this mean I win?” He asks you, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss. All you taste is chlorine, but the warmth of his lips pressing to yours fills you with butterflies. 

“Nah. Just taking a break for a second.” 

Jake’s eyes are pinned to yours, a strange expression spreading over his face. It’s sweet and loving… but there’s something else there too. Pride? 

“What?” 

He shakes his head at you. 

“You learned how to swim.” 

“Oh.” You say on an exhale, glancing around to realize that the two of you have come to a stop in the deep end of the pool – the very place that you’d been so afraid of not an hour before. “I guess I did.” 

“I’m the best fucking teacher ever.” He says, grinning proudly at you and puffing out his chest.

You roll your eyes but you can’t really argue. You are swimming, all thanks to him and his willingness to be patient and to distract you from your nerves. You realize now that the whole water fight had just been to get you out of your head – something that he’s always been remarkably good at. 

“Thank you, Jake.” 

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

----------

If you're reading this, I love you! 💞

Taglist:

@ignite-my-fire

@demolitionndann

@brujamagik

@mybussyinchrist

@writingcold

@way-to-go-lad

@sinsofstardust

@jjwasneverhere

@ohgodthefeeling-gvf

@wildbluesorbit

@twistedmelodies

@neverwanttofallasleep

Let me know if you'd like to be added to/removed from my taglist!

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

Dear Evan Hansen

You may have seen some ~online discourse~ about the film Dear Evan Hansen, an adaptation of the 2016 Broadway musical, and you might have wondered what all the hubbub is about. I mean, it’s a feel good story about a senior in high school, Evan Hansen (Ben Platt), who has some pretty severe anxiety and depression. While trying to fulfill an assignment from his therapist to write a letter to himself, his letter gets picked up by another student, Connor (Colton Ryan) - and later that day, Connor kills himself. Connor’s grieving parents and sister Zoe (Amy Adams, Danny Pino, and Kaitlyn Dever) are desperate to learn more from the boy they think was Connor’s best friend - after all, Connor’s suicide note was a letter addressed to “Dear Evan Hansen.” And, as you can imagine, Evan tells them about the unfortunate mistake and sits with them in their grief as they struggle to pick up the pieces of their lives. 

Just kidding! He lies to them, repeatedly, elaborately, expansively for months, constructing an entire false friendship with Connor that never happened, and ingratiating himself into the wealthy nuclear family he never had, in large part because he wants to get into Zoe’s pants! THIS IS THE PROTAGONIST OF THE STORY. Oh, and it’s a musical so there is a lot of singing and crying and singing WHILE crying and sometimes crying and not singing at all. But the #inspiration, you guys. 

Things I liked:

Pretty much everything but the story and Ben Platt’s performance. The supporting cast is stacked, and all of them do a great job at elevating material scraped directly out of a diaper worn by someone who just chewed their way through a copy of the DSM-5. 

A couple of the songs are damn catchy - “Waving Through a Window” and “You Will Be Found” are standouts for a reason - and here’s the thing, Platt sings them well. But as you’ll discover, there’s a lot more to a movie musical than just singing your part. 

Stephen Chbosky, the man behind every deep thought I and a lot of people in my generation had in 2006 after he wrote The Perks of Being a Wallflower, is a pretty good director. I particularly enjoyed the fanvid-type cuts in “Waving Through a Window” in conjunction with the lyrics, and his use of interstitial shots to flashbacks (and sometimes flashforwards!) is a neat little bit of shorthand that I thought was used sparingly enough to be effective. 

Amy Fucking Adams. She’s holding on so hard, so desperately to the idea of who her son could have been, rather than the reality of who he was, and she is full of such deep pain that is masked by an almost endless supply of patience with Evan and relentless positivity. All this made me want was Enchanted 2 even worse than I already did. 

Super into everything Zoe wears - the costuming department did a great job, and now all I want to do is live in mom jeans and baggy sweaters.

Did I Cry? I teared up a couple of times because I’m not a completely heartless bastard and when Amy Adams offered Evan Connor’s college money, my heart broke for the lie Evan had thrust upon her, and Julianne Moore’s song got me good, because she’s just a single mom to Evan who is doing her goddamn best. 

Things I hated more than the time I dropped a frozen gallon container of fruit cocktail on my pinkie toe in my parents’ garage and it turned black and I thought it was gonna fall off:

Ben Platt is 28 years old. He originated the role of Evan Hansen on Broadway, so in many respects it makes sense that he plays the role in the movie, except for the one kinda sorta important thing where he looks like a wizened old crone standing amongst a sea of children doing his best twitching, cringing Hunchback of Notre Dame impression. If you want someone to convincingly play 20 years their junior, hire Paul Rudd. Otherwise, please don’t ask me to believe that this supposed 18-year-old has crow’s feet. 

And that twitching nervous energy is a huge part of the black hole at the center of this film - he’s playing to the cheap seats and walking through the halls of his high school like a wet chihuahua. It’s an excruciating acting choice to watch - he doesn’t just have anxiety, he is on the verge of a nervous breakdown seemingly every second of every day. Like honestly, where is only-mentioned-never-seen Dr. Sherman, because this young man’s meds are NOT WORKING DR. SHERMAN. 

There’s such a lack of self-awareness on behalf of the writing, directing, and performance by Platt. There’s one song, “Sincerely, Me,” that offers the only glimpse of commentary about what Evan is doing, by pointing out the malicious ridiculousness of him writing a series of fake emails as proof of his and Connor’s friendship. 

Also what high schoolers email this much?? I know this was written in probably 2014 or so, but has a bitch never heard of a text? Even a DM? This whole plot is constructed around the premise that high schoolers are just constantly, constantly emailing each other. 

Everything - and I mean EV-ER-Y-THING - about Evan’s relationship with Zoe is so creepy and disturbing that with a soundtrack change, this could easily be a horror movie. He attempts to get her to like him by describing to her all the things her brother noticed about her - oh wait, I’m sorry, all the things HE noticed about her while he was skulking in the shadows following her around for years, watching every move she made, and it ends with him singing repeatedly “I LOVE YOU” because following a girl around and never having a conversation with her or knowing her at all is love, right? This was clearly written by the same people who chose “Every Breath You Take” as their wedding song because Sting is hot and they never actually listened to the damn words. 

And it gets about 10 billion times worse when Zoe goes to Evan’s house alone, takes him up to his room, and sings “I don’t need reasons to want you” and that was the moment I was that person I hate in a movie theater and I pulled out my phone to Google who wrote the music and lyrics to the musical (we were in the back row of the theater no one was behind me THIS WAS AN OUTRAGE EMERGENCY) and of motherfucking course it was written by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul, 2 men who heard about meeting an actual human woman from a friend one time but otherwise are unfamiliar with the concept. 

Lastly, enormous serial killer vibes from Evan sending unlabeled flash drives anonymously through the mail with no note in an attempt to right his wrongs. That’s not catharsis, that’s how the next installment in the Saw franchise starts, with Evan in a Billy the clown doll mask showing up on the screen and asking if you want to play a fucking game. 

Also, I know it’s not possible for the narrative to justify this in a way that could be satisfying based on Evan’s actions, but what is with this thing where single working-class mom Julianne Moore is turning down rich people’s money for Evan to go to college? Like, obviously we can’t have that happen in the movie but in real life, fuck your pride! Take those rich people’s money!

I also know how movies work but nothing annoys me more than a giant group of high schoolers all getting beeps and boops to indicate text notifications all at the same time because I don’t know a single person under the age of 55 who keeps their ringer on. That shit is on vibrate AT MOST, and I feel like that’s a millennial thing. 

The emotional climax of the film is obviously Evan’s WAY TOO LATE confession, but the idea that it’s prompted by Connor’s family suddenly getting a lot of internet hate is, frankly, laughable. If Sandy Hook taught me one thing, it is that no tragedy is immune from trolls who live only to cause other people devastating emotional pain on the internet. That shit starts day 1. Apparently no one involved in this production has ever been on Twitter?

Also it feels like there should have been a dog somewhere in this movie and there was no dog, so points off for that too. 

Perhaps Dear Evan Hansen isn’t nearly as deep as it aspires to be. Perhaps it’s a morality play, a simplistic message of “Don’t lie, kids, lying is bad!” Major studio movies wrap themselves up with a nice bow at the end so everyone can feel good about themselves and leave with a happy ending, but the moronic cruelty on display here makes that feat feel impossible. We’re left with Evan in an orchard, reading Connor’s favorite books and staring into the big blue sky with all the self-actualization he’s earned now as a lil treat. And if Evan Hansen looked like an actual 18-year-old, it would be a lot easier to extend more empathy to him and his not-fully-developed prefrontal cortex, but it’s a little harder with this fully-grown, weathered man who was old enough to remember seeing Liar Liar in theaters. 

Dear Evan Hansen, 

Get some actual help and a haircut and maybe you can grow up enough to have an actual healthy interaction with any other living person, ever.

Sincerely, 

Me

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

[dp-marvel94]

Fractured

For the Phic Phight 2021.

Prompt by @blueoatmeal. Fracture: At his creation, he was a fusion of two mismatched halves. Now, the Dark Phantom is split into two pieces again.

Word Count: 4828

Also on A03 and Fanfiction.net

Warnings for suicide mention, mention of blood, general TUE timeline awefullness

This took me so long to finish but I'm done. I've actually really wanted to write something like this for a while. It's also inspired this post, a conversation with @all-out-disney based on a prompt by @danphanwritingprompts.

When he had first been created, it was painful. The combination of two mismatched parts, two fractured pieces that never should have come together to form a whole. In the beginning, Phantom and Plasmius had fought against each other. Everything had been confusion and pain. So much information, so many memories and sensations clashing together. The two had nearly fallen apart at the start. But the thing holding them together? Anger.

Kill it! Kill the brat!

No! No! The new being’s hands held their head while it screamed.

Weak! It was his fault! In his head, one voice screamed. His fault they’re gone.

His fault? The other voice asked, the words echoing in their head.

An enraged hiss. His fault! His fault! 

They’re gone.

Gone! He threw us away! 

A fresh memory. Being ripped out of his body, his souls being pulled apart. Oozing, bleeding. A pain in his inmost being.

He threw us away...But...

In front of the lanky, blue skinned ghost, a blue-eyed boy trembled. Danny’s human half whimpered. “Please! Stay away!”

Quick! Do it now! In the air, the new ghost twitched, hunched over in pain.

But...I don’t want to-

He didn’t want us. Didn’t want us. Pain. Pain. His fault.

That licked at their anger. He didn’t want me. A growl. This was supposed to fix things, supposed to make the pain go away.

It’s his fault.

The human pressed up against the wall, his breath quickening. “No. This is wrong. This is wrong.”

“This is your fault.” The new being hissed, his voice a sick, twisted echo of the human’s.

Danny shook, eyes widening. “No. I didn’t...I didn’t want this.”

I didn’t want this. One voice echoed the human’s words.

Kill him! Before he destroys us!

Shakily, one hand lit with an ectoblast. Their eyes widened with terror even as a wicked grin stretched across their face.

No! I don’t-

The being shot the blast anyway. Danny screamed as the energy burned him. He scrambled to get away, his hands reaching for something to protect himself with. He grabbed a green and silver device and jabbed it at the ghost.

The flaming-haired figure growled in pain. It hurt. Everything hurt. It wasn’t supposed to hurt anymore.

Make the pain go away. Destroy the weakness.

Weakness. The part of them that was, that had been Phantom, remembered. Pain. Too weak, too slow, too stupid to save them. Curled on his bed, crying until he couldn’t breath. Wishing he could just die. There’ll be no pain if he’s dead.

Die then. The part that was Plasmuis, remembered. His phone dropped out of his numb gripp. He never got his revenge, never got Maddie as his bride. Listening to Daniel weep, the boy broken, withering away. Pathetic, weak.

Anger surged at the sight in front of them, worsened by the pain of the attack. The new ghost lunged, red hot rage coalescing the battling thoughts into a single line, a single drive.

Make the pain go away.

The human Danny never had a chance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The new ghost settled, smoothing out into something like one being. He grew in power and ability. He didn’t worry about things like names. Everyone who really knew where he’d come from was dead. As was his past. His past didn’t matter. (But it did. It did. It still hurt so much. He still missed his parents. His dear Maddie, the oaf Jack. Sam and Tucker. Daniel’s little friends. His sister. Jasmine.)

No, that didn’t matter. None of it mattered. None. All there was, all that matter was his work. He had important work to do. He needed to amass more power so he could take what he wanted, do what he wanted. And what he wanted? For the pain to go away, at a global, no, a universal scale. No one would hurt if they all were dead.

He was never supposed to exist. Really all things considered, he shouldn’t. He was two fragments clinging to each other. (But...that gap, that hole it was still there. It was still there. He shouldn’t have killed Danny Fenton. He missed...he missed Danny. He missed being Danny). He was better without those weak human halves (Lie.) He was never supposed to exist  and yet...here he was. And he would do what he needed to.

Years passed. The new ghost, called The Dark Phantom or just Phantom by his enemies and victims, (The name sickened him.) raged. He killed and maimed and destroyed. Ghosts were warped by his hand. Blood was spilled. The world was ravaged. He tried to destroy humanity but they were resilient. (He should stop. He needed to stop. He didn’t want this.)

He started collecting objects of power. The crown of fire. The ring of rage. He destroyed the Ghost King. The Infinite Realms were under his thumb. 

And then...he discovered the Reality Gauntlet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Dark Phantom floated over the ravaged battlefield. Builds crumbled around him, the smell of smoke and fresh spilled blood filling his nose. He grinned wickedly, clutching his prize in his hands. The humans had fought to keep it from them, they really had. Those idiotic GIW had hid it deep underground years before, their only intelligent action before he’d overpowered them. They’d destroyed all physical and digital records of it.

But he’d found it. He’d found the Reality Gauntlet anyway, killing and destroying anyone and anything in his path. Even now, his greatest human enemy, Valerie Gray the Ghost Slayer, laid dead at his feet. Even she’d fallen in the futile attempt to keep ultimate power out of his hands.But she’d failed. They all had failed. And now he held the glove in his gasp.

The ghost laughed evilly. And now he could have anything, anything at all he wanted. He floated higher, looking towards something at the horizon at the green glow of a ghost shield. Within that barrier laid Amity Park, the last resistance, humanities’ last stronghold. And now he could destroy it. One thought and he could destroy everything.

The ghost flew closer, coming to stop at a hill overlooking the city. It was a rare bare area, free of the usual twisted metal and broken concrete of apocalyptic landscape. Instead, there was just knee length grass. He landed and slid the glove onto his right hand.

Now, how did he want to do this? How did he want to destroy this thorn in his side? Fire? Nuclear explosion? Maybe he should freeze it solid? Not that was stupid. Asteroid impact? Suck it into a black hole? Maybe he should just suck the whole planet into a black hole. The ghost tapped his chin. He had always wondered what that would be like. What did a black hole actually look like in person? What would it be like to fall into one? What would it feel like? Would you really sit at the event horizon and watch all of time for the rest of the universe pass in the eternal moment before you were ripped apart?

The Dark Phantom shivered. There was the space nerdiness again. It did love to rear its head at the strangest moments. He shook his head. He needed to focus on how he would destroy his hometown. The place where he’d grown up, where he’d learned to ride a bike and meet his friends. Where he’d watched the stars and gone to high school and where he’d died the first time. Where his friends and family had died. 

The images flashed in his mind and the ghost pinched his eyes closed. A fiery explosion, concrete and metal, his pounding heart as he stood intangible in the middle of the wreckage. (He should have died with them.) Numb, sitting with the paramedics. Shock, they said. It was weeks before he spoke again. Standing in the rain, the two half ghosts together. Danny hadn’t even had the energy to flinch away when Vlad had put his hand on his shoulder, smuggly smiling down at the boy. Staring at the grave. Graves that were on the other side of the shield.

The ghost shivered, pushing the images away. No, stop that. Stop that. He would destroy them. He’d destroy the graves and the city. The plants that Sam loved so much, all the technology that Tucker tinkered with. Every single last book that his sister, Jasmine, studied. Every, single damn blasted ghost that his parents, his dear friends, were obsessed with. He’d destroy all of it, all of it damn it. He pressed the Gaunlet’s gems in sequence. He’d never have to look at their graves, remember any painful memory ever again.

The Dark Phantom pressed his will into the gems. With his eyes closed, his fractured soul poured its deepest desire into the glove. Power surged out of the Gauntlet, the smell of ozone burning the air. The ghost braced himself. It would happen any second now, the one thing he wanted. It would be his and all of this would be over. But...there was nothing. No heat, no cold, no explosion, no screaming, no crying. Nothing.

Instead, there were five soft thumps in front of him and one behind him. The ghost didn’t dare look yet. Then finally, after what felt like forever, there was a gasp. The ghost opened his eyes and his jaw dropped. There in front of him were five people. Each was sitting on the ground, rubbing their heads. None were looking at him yet. But his eyes flickered between the figures.

This couldn’t….this couldn’t be. It couldn’t...He knew...No...He didn’t….he didn’t. They couldn’t be...these weren’t….but….

Sam? Tucker? He wanted to ask, but the words choked him. He glanced between the two. Sam, who was staring angrily at the ruined environment. Tucker, who was taking his glasses on and off, as if that would change what he was seeing. 

But the image didn’t change, no matter how many times the ghost blinked. Here they were. They were really here, right in front of him. His (Daniel’s little) best friends. These two who’d been with him through it all. Through tests and projects and long days at the arcade and the waterpark. Through the accident. Through the power malfunctions and the late night ghost fighting. (No, he’s been alone. His friends had left him in that hospital to rot.)  Through injuries and secrets and- 

“Madds? Where are we?” Dad’s (Jack’s) cut through. 

The ghost’s eyes widened. It was his Dad. His Dad! The man who read him bedtime stories and chased away the ‘ghosts’ in the closet and hugged him close when he was scared. (That oaf always ate all the food he’d bought from himself! He made a mess of the dormroom.) 

The ghost whined, clenching his head. It ached with the contradictions. Happiness, relief, pure joy, the love of a child for their parents. Dad had taught him how to tie a tie and had driven him to the movies and took him stargazing. Anger, Hatred, The Longing for vengeance. (He stole the love of his life! He couldn’t obey the most basic laboratory safety!)

“I don’t know.” Mom’s (Maddie’s) voice cut through. She rapidly looked side to side, eyes widening with fear. “How did we get here?”

His Mom, his core sang. His mom. The woman who’d kissed his bo-bos and made him cookies and taught him self defense and took him out for milkshakes. (The most beautiful woman he’d ever laid his eyes on.)

Head throbbing, the ghost doubled over, feeling sick. No. NO! That was wrong. This was wrong. No.

“Ghost!” Dad (the oaf) suddenly yelled.

The sound of feet stomping towards him. “You! Do you bring us here, ghost?”

The ghost looked up, shakingly meeting the woman’s (beautiful) purple eyes. “Yes...no...I..I..” His insides churned, painfully as he shrunk back from her angry glare. This was his mom. She was supposed to be happy to see him. He’d brought her back. Now he could finally steal her from Jack. The ghost growled. “Shut up.”

“What did you say to me?!” Mom glared, pulling an ectogun from her holster.

“Mo-addie.” The ghost cried, his quickly fragmenting mind switching between the two names. He stumbled backwards as Sam and Tucker finally seemed to notice the adults. 

“Mrs. F!” Tucker exclaimed. 

“Mr. Fenton!” Sam shakily stood up, rushing to the man.

“Sam. Tuck.” The ghost whispered. He was shaking, his knees knocking together. It hurt. His insides hurt. This was...he was wrong. This wasn’t...he wasn’t...this didn’t….

Mom...Maddie...Mom continued pointing the gun at him. “Where are we?”

He groaned, falling to his knees. The flame of his hair flickered erratically.

In front of him, Jack...Dad...Jack...had run to the still unconscious Jazz. He shook her roughly and the girl groaned. Sam and Tucker found the pair, helping the older teen sit up. 

“Who are you?” Mom spat out.

Who? Who...he didn’t….

Jazz blinked, taking in her surroundings. She then turned to the side, her eyes falling on his. Her gaze flickered to the emblem on his chest. Her mouth feels open. “Danny?” She whispered.

His mind stopped. Danny? That was (not) his name. Or it had been. (No it wasn’t). It had been his name. No. He...he missed...he missed that name. (That brat, that fool, pathetic). The ghost whined, his insides revolting. His eyes flickered. Red. Green. Red. Green. The black and white on his suit swirled, shifted.

“Danny.” Jazz repeated, more certain.

The ghost nodded. Then he shook his head. Yes. No. Both. Neither. Both….Yes...No...

“What...what’s happening to him?” Tucker asked fearfully.

What was happening?! What was happening?! He wrapped his arms around his middle as if that could hold him together. Maybe….no…

“Never mind that!” Sam hissed. “What happened to us? How did we get here?”

“The last thing I remember is….” Jazz’s eyes widened with shock and pain. “We...we..all of us, we….”

“You all died.” A voice, a new voice behind him, whispered. 

The ghost tensed, stiffening. He shook torn between wanting desperately to look and being terrified (disgusted) with what he’d see because-

“You all...you all died.” The young male voice choked out again.

That voice, it was so familiar. It was...it was...Rapidly, Jazz, Sam, and Tucker looked between the ghost and the figure standing behind him.

Shakily, Jazz stood, her eyes focusing on the speaker behind the ghost. "Danny?" Her eyes flickered to Dark Phantom (?) again. "You're both…. How are you…?" She stuttered, unable to ask the vital question.

But the ghost knew what she was asking. He knew who was behind him but-

"Jazz." Feet shuffled towards him. "You're...you're alive. You're all alive." A whisper. "I'm...I'm alive."

The ghost felt a sensation, so similar, almost like a heart skipping a beat. Shakily, he started to turn. 

It made sense, in a strange way, for him to have brought back his friends and family (but why would he care about Daniel's little friends or that oaf?) A shake of the head. No, stop that. It did make sense. It did. But bringing HIM back?

Another foot step sounded behind, to his left. The ghost's eyes finally met the speaker's eyes, familiar blue eyes.

Danny, Danny Fenton, identical to the the day he died, stood in front of him. The boy stared at him with a complicated expression. Fear, shock, confusion, awe. It was all there. He blinked, lip twitching. "You….you brought me back." 

His core squeezed and pulsed, his form rippling as pain shot through him. Danny Fenton. He'd brought Danny Fenton (himself, his human half; the insolent brat) back to life. Back to life. Because he never should have killed him in the first place. (Why shouldn't he have?) No! He shouldn't have! That was a mistake! A mistake! The pain was supposed to go away when he destroyed his humanity but it did, it didn't! 

His whole body was smoking, cracks forming along his skin. The ache had just grown, gap yawning wider. Instead of being whole, complete, he...they...were two fragments clinging together for stability, for survival. He wasn't supposed to exist like this.

Questions, demands were buzzing around him but there was no registering the words. In front of him, Danny was rapidly backing away, eyes widening with fear.

Danny. Daniel. An arrogant hiss. He missed Danny, he missed being Danny. He missed being alive. No he didn't, that was ridiculous.

"No!" A roar, two voices screaming at once.

The being writhed, hastily made connection tearing. They weren't supposed to exist like this. So they didn't.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phantom and Plasmius broke apart, flying in opposite directions. The younger ghost skidded across the grass before careening to a stop. He curled in on himself, shaking and whining. 

Around him, alarmed and confused questions rose in volume but he couldn't hear over the brief sound of someone cackling and the sound of his sobs.

Wait, sobs? When had he started crying? He sniffled, a tear falling down his face. Yep, crying. He was crying. He shook, great emotion overcoming him. Horror, sorrow, grief, guilt. He...he remembered everything, all the horrible things he'd done with Plasmius.

"Danny! Danny! Get away from the ghost!" Mom was yelling.

Sneakered feet approached, a lithe figure falling to his knees in front of Phantom. Warm, peach colored hands reached out, grabbing his arms and pulling him into a seated position. 

The emotions intensified, hitting the ghost like a brick wall. A double memory. Killing his human half. Being killed by his ghost half. The first murder of his reign of terror. His botched yet successful suicide. It was excruciating, tearing his soul from both sides.

"I..I…" Phantom gasped, finally meeting the blue eyes through the tears. 

"You and Plasmius...you killed me." Fenton said without accusation.

"I...I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Phantom begged. The words didn't cover it at all, the width and depth of his iniquity, of the travesties he'd committed in his insanity.

"I asked you to." Fenton whispered, looking down guiltily. "I wanted to die." He shifted, pulling Phantom towards him. "Oh god. I shouldn't have split us. I shouldn't have done that."

The ghost didn't resist as Fenton wrapped his arms around him. Instead, he clung to the human as if he would disappear. "I shouldn't...I shouldn't have joined Plasmius. I shouldn't have killed you." His core spasmed, again threatening to fracture under the strain. "I shouldn't...oh god I...I destroyed everything." 

He could barely comprehend what he and Plasmius had done, all he'd been through. And the guilt wared with other feelings at the edge of his perception. Part of him wanted to be hopeful, happy even if it was so abominably selfish. He'd missed being human, being alive. He missed being Danny Fenton. But…. Danny Fenton was in front of him, his still living soul and body pressed up against his chest. He'd brought himself back to life.

And his friends and family. They were behind him. Sam, Tucker, and Jazz were holding his parents back and offering them cursory explanations. For a brief moment, Phantom wondered; how did Jazz know his secret? 

But then the greater issue reared its head. His loved ones didn't know what was going on here. They didn't know the world he'd dragged them into. And now, they didn't need two broken, inconsolable pieces. They needed all of him. They needed Danny.

Phantom breathed, pulling this human self closer as he felt Fenton's agreement. He relaxed, feeling his body become tingling and numb. He let go of tangibly, becoming nothing more than a cloud. He was fog being burned away by the morning light. No, he was a cup of water poured back into the lake he'd come from. He was liquid, spreading out, diffusing into a larger body of water, the newly added molecules indistinguishable from the old. Phantom dissolved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a flash of light. Danny Fenton-Phantom remained frozen on his knees. His arms wrapped around himself as he cried. 

This didn't feel like the last time, with the ghost catcher. Then, when he'd finally come back to himself, there had been relief, the feeling of coming home after a long, tiring day. But now, it still hurt. He was home but he didn't belong here, didn't deserve this. He looked up, heart throbbing with love for his family and friends. He didn't deserve them but they needed him.

Shakily, with great effort, Danny pushed himself to his feet. He met his sister's eyes and she ran to him. Finally the two hugged.

"Jazz." He sniffed.

"Little brother." The girl squeezed him.

"I love you so much." He vowed.

The rest approached, his eyes flickering among each person one at a time. "Sam. Tucker." A pause. Finally. "Mom. Dad."

"Danny." Mom's voice rang with a dozen emotions as she joined the hug. "My baby boy."

"I love you. I love you so much. " Danny repeated as his loved ones surrounded him in an embrace. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I love you. I love you guys. I'm sorry. "

The others muttered much the same, assurances of love and apologies. Danny never wanted it to end but it did as the group pulled apart.

His loved ones looked around, faces pale with worry. Finally Tucker asked. "Dude, what happened here?" 

"Was it the ghosts?" Dad asked, alarmed.

Danny flinched at the words. Guilty, he looked down.

Sam bit her lip. "Was it Plasmius?"

Somehow, the boy curled in on himself even more. "It was me." He muttered.

Danny paled, bracing himself. He expected horror and disgust. Accusation. Hateful sneers. And he would deserve it, all of it. But instead, the group stared at him in disbelief.

"Dude, there's no way." Tucker started.

"You couldn't have done this." Sam denied, perfectly confident.

"I did. It was me." Danny whined. "You all were gone and I was all alone. And I just...I was so angry." He gnawed on his lip. "And I just wanted to stop hurting but it didn't work and I thought…." He trailed off. 

Thinking back, the rationale didn't make sense. He couldn't grasp it, couldn't understand what his, his and Plasmius' motivation had been. The thoughts  seemed to slip through his fingers, refusing to stay in his brain. Danny wasn't sure whether or not that was a good thing.

"It couldn't have been just you." Jazz softly said, drawing him out of his thoughts. Her hand gently wrapped around his arm. "We saw what happened with that blue skinned ghost." She whispered, as if this was a tightly kept secret.

Nervously, Danny’s eyes flickered to his parents who looked confused and deeply troubled. It was actually surprising that they hadn’t pointed the ectogun at him again, not after they apparently saw his ghost and human halves fuse back together. Obviously, his sister or friends explained that to them and they somehow believed it, or were too overwhelmed to really process. But the bigger problem? Everyone saw the fusion of Phantom and Plasmius fall apart. Again, he shivered at the memory of being even a part of that monster.

“So you and Plasmius….” Sam trailed off, nose wrinkling in disgust.

That disgust was justified, the very idea repulsive. But he’d been angry and desperate after the split. He, the Phantom part, had wanted to be stronger. Because if he had been, then maybe everyone wouldn’t have died. He’d been so angry at the older half ghost, for all the shit Vlad had put him through. And he’d been in so much pain. Vlad was so cold, so unfeeling. If he could be like that, if he could just be numb and selfish for once-

Danny couldn’t bear to say any of that, instead changing the subject. “Plasmius, where did he go?” He looked around, seeing no trace of the other ghost. His brow wrinkled in sudden alarm. “And where’s the Gauntlet?”

“Gauntlet?” His mom blinked, brow furrowing at the question.

Jazz frowned. “That glove thing? Plasmius took it, when he flew off.”

Danny’s heart skipped a beat. He flew off. With the Gauntlet. And he hadn’t noticed until now. No one had said anything either. And….the other ghost could do anything with the reality altering item.

Shakily, the half ghost pulled away from his loved ones. “I need to go after him.” With a thought, he summoned the rings around his waist. His parents’ eyes both widened in alarm while the others looked concerned. He ignored the looks, transforming and floating off the ground.

Danny took an unneeded breath, looking around for any sign of Plasmius in the distance. Which direction would he have gone? The boy frowned, considering. But he didn’t know. He’d just have to set off in one direction and hope he could find him and get the Gauntlet back. He looked around, flinching at the destruction. He’d used it to bring his loved ones back but he still needed it to-

Something blue and white appeared on the horizon, rapidly approaching. The half ghost flinched, recognizing the figure. He shifted in the air, floating to stand between his friends and family and the approaching ghost. Taking a fighting stance, Danny balled his fists and lit them with ectoenergy.

Moments later, Plasmius materialized in front of him. “Daniel.” He looked down at the boy distastefully. “I see you’ve managed to pull yourself back together.”

The boy frowned. “Yes.” He warily eyed the Gauntlet clenched in the other ghost’s hands. “What are you gonna do with that?”

The vampiric ghost scowled. He silently floated for a moment, before his form seemed to glitch, flickering like a broken TV.  His face briefly scrunched up in pain, nose wrinkling. Then his expression smoothed out, turning into something forcefully neutral. He heavily dropped the glove at Danny’s feet. “Fix this.”

The boy stared down at the Gauntlet, blinking in confusion. He bent down and grabbed it, tightly holding the object in his hand.

Behind him, Tucker asked. “Why didn’t he just use it? Ow! Sam!” Obviously, the girl had elbowed him.

Plasmius said nothing, still scowling while Danny considered. Why didn’t the man use it himself? The other ghost’s image flickered again, causing him to let out a low hiss of pain.

“You can’t.” Danny finally said, realization hitting him. “You’re too unstable.” 

It was the other reason their dark version stayed together. Both halves would have faded away, destabilizing into ectoplasm within minutes. And there would have been no solution. Phantom had killed his other half. And Plasmius’ was somewhere in Wisconsin, too far away to be of any help now.

“Fix this.” The other ghost growled again, looking at something in the distance.

This time, there was a greater weight to the words. It wasn’t just a request to be stabilized. It was a demand for more. To clean up the rest of the mess they’d made together.

Danny slipped on the glove. Looking down, he pressed the gems in sequence. Fix this. He needed to fix this. He could fix the damage, heal the people he’d hurt, bring back those who were gone. But…. he remembered his loved ones’ haunted expressions. The horror with which they looked around the destitute environment. 

The halfa closed his eyes, knowing what he needed to do. He took a breath and pushed his desire into gems. The world went white.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny Fenton woke up in his bed, the remnants of a long nightmare in his mind. The boy groaned, burying his face in his pillow. 

“Danny!” His mom called through the door. “Get up.”

The boy didn’t respond, groaning again. 

At that, the woman opened the door. “Danny. You have to get up. You’re taking the CAT today.”

CAT? His brow furrowed at the information. He was taking the CAT. Slowly, the half ghost sat up. 

“Good.” His mother nodded. “Breakfast is ready downstairs. Go ahead and get dressed.”

After she closed the door, Danny stood. He started getting dressed as she said. His brow still furrowed with confusion. His dream. He’d been dreaming about? He couldn’t quite remember, except it had been horrible. A sense of dread overcame him. And...he needed to fix something. He had to fix something.

Danny pulled on his shirt. He then turned, grabbing his bookbag. It fell open, revealing a manila envelope. Guilt squeezed his heart. The CAT test answers. He picked up the sheet, stuffing it back inside his bag. 

Dread passed through him again, his stomach flopping. He still needed to fix something. But it couldn’t just be about his cheating, right? There was something else.

“Danny! Your father’s going to eat all the bacon if you don’t hurry up.” Mom called.

Danny frowned. Whatever it was, he would figure it out and everything would be okay. Right?

[ivesambrose]

Is this taken from that Danny Devito meme? Yes, Indeed it is.

Choose by intuition or pendulum and not visual appeal (or you can use the technique I learnt from Servantofthefates here to pick an image that strikes a memory in you)

DM or email me at jovescorpioreadings@gmail.com to book a personal reading with me.

Tips are appreciated 🍀

1.

You have either been struggling with savings and finance in the past few months. You may also been having a false sense of security (could be somewhere you're at, a place you work, someone you're with or a habit etc). Eitherway, there's something in your life that isn't as stable as it seems. Whether you notice or show it or not. Perhaps you're struggling with self expression and having anxieties in regards to your public image or career. I see some of you may be dealing with nightmares, improper sleep and fatigue as well. I see you getting some rest from your burdens. Trust me, you need it. You simply need to unwind.

Good news is things will progress and move forward in terms of career or business / any projects that you have in mind.

Slow progress is stable and sturdy progress remember that. Some of you maybe changing locations or want to leave something behind and start afresh. You'll get a chance to do that as well. You're hesitant in taking the first step but you'll soon discard the worry and go for it anyway. You have a life ahead of you.

A lot of you will meet your soulmate / a fated connection after you have changed locations. It will indeed mean leaving things behind first which includes people, perhaps a breakup might occur as well. (depends on your situation)

I feel you're either Cancer, Gemini or an Earth sign or they are significant in your life in some way. Perhaps it could be the energy that will be surrounding you soon. The energy of this pile has a lot to do with you, the way you're breaking a pattern and moving forward in life.

Timing is anywhere between one season to within a year.

2.

You're stuck somewhere but that's not completely stifled your creativity. Yes, I understand that you wanted to do more. But you're doing all you can with what you have. You're trying to make something from scratch, you're bringing something to life and it's progressing. It indeed is. Maybe you're manifesting the life style you desire or the love you want or the way you see your ideal self to be. Transformation takes time. You've been bogged down by people before, people you have considered your friends. Now that you sit alone in silence and in your own company you realize how empty some words can be but you recognise yourself a lot better to know what you deserve and where you're going from here.

A lot of you are learning to reparent yourself as well.

You're surrounded by love or I feel there's someone out there who straight up prays for you. Maybe they are not in your life yet but when the weather gets warmer they wish for you or think of you, you bring warmth into their heart. You'll feel their love soon, it's coming.

But first a transformation will come, don't be surprised when people come and tell you that you've changed or they can't recognise you anymore. Because you're gonna drastically change. This is the group for a strong fire sign or a scorpio, definitely some scorpio or 8th house influence in you. I can feel it. You're breaking free from a very tight coccoon.

There's a driving force or passion in your life or simply the fact that you want to achieve a certain thing that's pushing you forward. Please remember to rest because some of you take on the energy of multiple people and circumstances very easily.

One thing you can look forward to is simply pushing past your obstacles and going your way. There's a change coming. You've put up a strong fight. You'll get time to stop and smell the roses and also see the tiny details in made up for the bigger picture. I also see some of you straight up moving overseas. There is a long distance travel somewhere. I'm also getting a significant message. Message from a community or institution? I'm seeing greenery too. A lot of harmony and an increase in status. Also being desired by a lot of people. Make sure to establish proper boundaries.

For timing, for a lot of you it's already begun.

You're highly likely going through your first or second saturn return. The wheel is already turning for you, you've got this.

3.

You feel as though situations or people that are no good for you latch themselves onto you easily with no intention of letting go. You get charmed pretty easily and don't recognise deceit. Deep down you know it, you've been stubborn in your ways. Went left when everyone else is going right or taken a different route when you've been shown the way. That's left you in an energy you find rather difficult to fully trust but it feels like something you've grown accustomed to so you stay put. You may even be dealing with some form of addiction (this is not limited to substance, it could be something as simple as a habit) you may feel stuck to a set means of income too, you want to do more. You may think you've found your tribe or you tell yourself to have gratitude for the same. But you're still rather far from it. Please don't get disheartened though.

You can look forward to building a sanctuary for yourself. The start of the journey will be rather solitary till you learn how to truly nurture yourself and grow to be the person you're meant to be. It doesn't have to be too tedious. Bug it will require unlearning and relearning some things.

I see some of you investing in property, plot of land or a house too. I see some of you trying to fix your relationship with your mother or sister or a female friend. This in turn will aid you in your own journey. I see some of you wanting to spend more time in nature, with your pets or around animals. You might take up gardening or organic farming too? Or wanting to eat more organic and healthy food instead of processed ones. A lot of you have realized how bland and structured life feels. A lot of you will realize you had dropped certain plans and paths that were for you but you decided to settle for things just because they suddenly seemed more available for you.

You'll have certain realizations that may not be as pretty as first. Things might topple over. Things might change and perhaps you don't handle change as easily. This is definitely not the mutable sign pile. I'm also sensing neptunian influence/dominance here. Also capricorn (rising perhaps?)

Whatever happens will led you to build an empire for yourself. Something you'll feel extremely proud of. You'll be presented with several choices and opportunities, but this time your intuition won't lead you astray. The opportunities will impact your life purpose and career. You may pick up new hobbies too maybe with a friend?

A lot of you will realize how important it is to shift one's energy and try new things. Don't be scared to take this journey by yourself as intimidating as it sounds. It's necessary for you. You can't keep carrying different energies and crumbs from different people.

For timing, I'm not getting something definite yet. It could be anywhere from pisces season to a year or within a year.

[kinglazrus]

Twice is (Never) Enough

Phic Phight for @syrren, continuation of the deadpool AU

AO3 | FFN

Summary: Danny remembers promising his friends two deaths was enough for him. He remembers when keeping track of how many times he died felt so important. Now, hundreds of fatal wounds later, he can't remember why.

Word count: 2374

A moaning wind pushes the fading storm clouds across the sky. Danny first saw them around noon, gathering on the horizon. From the streets of Amity Park, the clouds started as heaps of grey peeking above the buildings. Although the wind was rough and cold, the city basked in sunlight. If you found a spot to stand safe from the breeze, the sun's warmth was rather pleasant. Danny likes this kind of day the best. It helps, sometimes, when his body can't decide whether it's too hot or too cold, switching rapidly between sweats and chills at such a rapid pace that it might have killed a normal person.

Maybe it killed Danny, tool. On those days, it is normal for him to suddenly fall asleep, succumbing to the dizziness in his head and the shortness of his breath. He wakes up minutes later feeling healthy as ever. Then the struggle starts over again.

On those days, when the weather is as indecisive as Danny's body, he can hop from the comforting cold of the wind to the soothing warmth of the sun as needed. However, it only lasted a few hours today. As Danny's patrol took him to the edge of the city, he stopped by the bridge leading to Elmerton and found the distant clouds looming overhead, threatening to suffocate what little sunlight remained. Standing on the bridge's rail, overlooking the expanse of the river, he could finally see what the city had hidden from him before. The distant sky was a dark, stormy blue, filled with the haze of falling rain.

Within the hour, Amity Park was drenched. Freezing rain pelted against the sidewalk, rattled windows, blinded drivers. More than once, Danny had to swing down from the rooftops and rescue a pedestrian from certain death. These kinds of heroics weren't normally part of Danny's job description, but he was there and had nothing better to do. It earned him a few bruised ribs, a broken arm, and one skull cracked against the sidewalk. He got better, though. As he always did.

But that had been hours ago before the Fight Knight decided this gloomy weather was the perfect time to lay siege to the city. His mistake. He could only do so much as a one-man army, especially against a kid who doesn't fear death.

Danny shakes the Fenton Thermos, knocking around the occupant inside.

"Stop. Invading. My. City!" He throws the thermos in the air and boots it down the street. It pings off street lamps and cars (oops), nearly all the way down to the next stoplight. Danny, bored, watches it bounce with dull eyes. Maybe that will knock some sense into the knight.

A gust of wind tears down the streets, buffeting against Danny's back and knocking him forward a few steps. Danny hisses when his feet jolt against the pavement and the pain in his chest flairs. Right, the sword.

Gripping Soul Shredder's hilt, he braces himself before yanking it out. The blade bites at the edges of his wound, one last pointless strike against him. In his hand, the hilt burns, crying out against his possession of the sword. He hefts the blade over his head and waves it.

"This is mine, now!" he calls out to the thermos. The sword, as if protesting, burns hotter, but Danny is too stubborn to let go. Even as the heat burns the fabric of his gloves, his grip stays tight.

Another howling wind hurls its way down the street. It catches the thermos and sends it spinning away into the street and out of sight.

"Shit." Danny takes off after it. His chest, not yet fully healed, burns. Blood drips down the front of his suit, at least Danny calls it blood. He can't remember the last time he actually saw red dripping from his open wounds. Everything inside him turned black long ago.

He finds the thermos easily, caught beneath the tire of a parked car. It rattles when he picks it up. The Fright Knight is obviously displeased with his circumstances. Good. Maybe next time he will think twice before invading the city. This had to be, what, the sixtieth time? He stopped keeping track when it hit the double digits decades ago.

This isn't the first time Danny has thought about keeping Fright's sword, either. The temptation has followed him ever since he stopped bothering to sheath it in pumpkin near thirty invasions ago, but the sword never stays with him long. These past few minutes have been the longest he's ever held it without it disappearing on him.

Danny clips the thermos to his belt on one side and slides the sword into the other. The blade slaps against his leg as he walks. His belt pulls from the additional weight, too, but he can put up with it. With the threat gone and the city quiet, he stops in the middle of the street, hands on his hips, and sighs.

"Now what?" he asks the cold night air.

The wind answers him with a low moan.

"You are a terrible conversationist."

If the wind is offended it doesn't say, which only proves Danny's point. A good conversation needs some back and forth, none of this moaning and wailing stuff. He tried that for a year. It doesn't work.

With no more ghosts left to fight, Danny heads home.

—

The Master Mansion used to be the nicest house in Amity Park. No one could deny its grandeur; only the old Manson estate could challenge Vlad's house in size. But years of neglect have taken their toll on the Master Mansion. The once well-manicured lawn grows wild and tangled, the grass well past Danny's knee. Weeds fill the cracks in the driveway. Hedges, once trimmed to perfect circles, having become hulking green beasts of tangled limbs.

The mansion itself fairs no better. Broken windows, missing shingles on the roof. The garage house collapses inward, closer, and closer to collapsing every year. Once, a long time ago, Danny thought about fixing the garage, since it's his fault it ended up in such a state. It didn't take him long to decide he didn't care.

"Hey Fruitloop, I'm back," Danny calls as he walks through the door. His body, too flesh for an act so ghostly, resists. Walking through the solid would is like pushing your way through a lake of ectoplasm with a broken leg and deadweight hanging off your shoulders. Danny should know.

Opening the door like a normal person would have been easier, but if Danny's predicament is going to give him slightly convenient ghost powers, then damn it, he is going to use them. He has earned it.

Vlad doesn't answer him.

"Are you alive?" Danny shouts.

Still no answer.

He deposits the thermos by the door, leaving it on the front table. There will be time to release its prisoner later. He keeps the sword at his hip, though. During the long walk from the city to the mansion, Soul Shredder's weight has quickly become a comfort at his side. The blade still burns, but in the lingering cold of the storm, the heat comforts him more than it hurts.

Danny walks to the main hall, heading up the grand staircase to the second floor. The entire North wing of the mansion is Vlad's, while Danny has laid claim to the rest. It's more than generous, considering Vlad's a nutcase who doesn't deserve so much care. He can barely walk most days, anyway. If he tried to shuffle his way from one end of the wing to another he might just collapse and die.

Vlad's room lies at the far end of the wing, with large floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the backyard. It must have been quite the view when Vlad had dozens of domestic workers managing his estate from day to day. When Danny pushes open the door to Vlad's room, the first thing he sees is the curtains draws open, letting in dull moonlight. Outside, the clouds are finally blowing past Amity Park.

The bed is empty, covers rumpled and hanging off the mattress. Scanning the room, Danny can't find any sign of Vlad.

Danny peeks into the dark bathroom. "Did you crawl off like a cat to die alone?" Empty. He moves on to other rooms, the study, the library—which is basically the study but with a few more books—the Packers room. All of them empty.

"Remember when Maddie did that?" Danny continues his one-sided conversation. "I found her in the garage under that dumb Lexus you loved so much?"

He heads away from the North wing. Maybe Vlad didcrawl away to die. It is a miracle he could have made it so far. Danny's tempted to give up, but he spurs on anyway. He doesn't care for Vlad, despite living with the man. It is more for convenience than anything. And, perhaps, because they are more alike than Danny wants to admit.

His search carries him to the back of the house, through the kitchen, toward the entertainment room where Vlad used to hold parties. Sliding glass doors along the outer wall lead to the backyard. One of them is open. When Danny steps outside, he finds Vlad instantly. A shadow slumped over in a garden chair, looking out over what used to be the pool. Now it's just a hole in the ground surrounded by pretty tiles.

"Damn. I thought you'd be under the car," Danny says.

"Do I want... to know... what you mean?" Vlad has to pause every few words and take a breath. His comes out low and raspy, so rough that hearing it makes Danny's own throat itch. Danny can't hear a trace of the silky voice Vlad used to have.

"I don't know, do you?" Danny asks.

"Still... after all this time... so juvenile."

"What's the point of being an adult if you can't be a kid sometimes?" Danny says with his young voice in his young body, neither of which has changed in over fifty years. He leans against Vlad's chair, elbow resting on the back. His arm barely brushes Vlad's shoulder, but it's enough to make the man groan.

Vlad, like the house, has grown withered and neglected. Nothing but sagging scar tissue and brittle bones. It must have taken him hours to get down here, perhaps the whole day. It would surprise Danny if Vlad had still been making his way outside when he got home.

The hole where Vlad's right eye used to be serves as a bitter reminder of what, or who put him in this state. Perhaps comparing him to the garage house is a better analogy.

"What is it... like?" Vlad asks. It is hard for Danny to pick emotion out of Vlad's voice, but the tremble sounds stronger now. Not the tremor of a weak throat, although Vlad certainly has that, but a waver of fear. A small admittance of weakness that he rarely ever allows, much less shows to others.

But Danny isn't other. Everyone else is, always has been. He doesn't need to ask what Vlad means. "I don't know."

Vlad tilts his head. "How?"

Danny shrugs. "I used to know, I think, but..." Things change. Dying changes you. And dying over, and over, and over again changes you so much that sometimes it is hard to tell what you were like before. So many sensations. So many memories.

Jazz told him, once, that patients with dementia have an easier time recalling old memories, those earlier in their life, then later ones. It doesn't matter if the later memories formed before dementia set in, they're just too new. When someone remembers something for decades, it passes through their head again and again, etched deeper into their mind the more often they remember it. It makes it easier, later, when their minds start slipping, for them to recall those moments they burned into their brains over the years.

For Danny, one such memory comes from the early days of his abilities. At that point, he had only died twice, and he made a promise with Sam and Tucker. Twice is enough. It sounds ridiculous now.

Twice is enough? He died at least four times today, maybe five. He still hasn't decided if he blacked out from his fever that morning or if it boiled him from the inside out. His hand drops from Vlad's chair to Soul Shredder, fingers curling loosely around the hilt. It feels heavier than ever.

Twice is enough. Twice is a fool's dream, the passing wish of a child who knew too little about the world and about himself.

Closing his eyes, Danny reaches inside himself and finds a burning light. Thousands of them, little pieces chipped away from a part of him so far beyond his comprehension he didn't know it existed until Skulker, so rudely, opened his eyes to it. Together, they shine as one solid mass, but he knows the truth. Inside, Danny is broken.

He used to have a notebook. It was Jazz's idea. Confront your trauma through words. Write down what kills you then burn the pages. She got the idea from some therapy textbook. To this day, Danny isn't sure what burning the pages was supposed to do. Whatever great expectations Jazz put upon the ritual, they didn't work. Mostly because Danny never followed through.

He can still picture those first few pages, written with more care than he put into his English homework. Electrocution, suffocation, burning, bludgeoning. Every time he died, he made an entry in the book, put down the details. It seemed so important at the time. Include every detail, how he felt, what it felt like, how fast he healed, who was there to see him die. Pages upon pages of his most traumatic experiences bound together in a neat little coil ringer notebook.

Danny remembers the promise. He remembers writing those words. He remembers believing it meant something. There had to be a reason for it, an explanation beyond the science that would reveal to him some great truth about why this happened. He's not foolish enough to believe that anymore.

Twice was never enough.

[mahalidael]

Those Familiar Spirits

(*sprints up to the podium* FIRST FLYNN FANFIC. sort of. if you don’t count the phantomrose96 one, but flynn doesn’t actually appear in that one so make of it what you will)

Danny was two years old when the police came to their house. He must have thought the flashing lights were fireworks; he ran outside alone to look.

He saw uniforms, a funny black and white car, and a great deal of shouting between the grown-ups. It was July, and very muggy. Flies buzzed around the police cars’ lights as Mom and Dad talked very quietly, and Aunt Alicia yelled, and the police said ma’am, please, we’re trying to help, could you just, ma’am. Ma’am.

Danny ran up to get a better look but was promptly swept up by a police officer and carried back inside as he craned his neck to hear what they were saying.

Mom went inside for a minute and made him and Jazz sit on the couch. She told them gravely, “We’re just going to talk to the nice policemen, okay? Don’t go out there.”

Danny huffed. Jazz noticed his irritation and spoke up. “Can we watch TV if we stay inside?”

“Mm-hm,” said Mom, looking out the window at the lights again, already standing up and gravitating towards them.

Jazz reached for the TV remote and hit the power button with an ease that a four year old will only exhibit when provided with sufficiently busy parents. Danny started chewing on his shirt sleeve as images flashed on the screen; they were big kid cartoons that he had no interest in.

“Mom?” said Jazz, peeking up over the back of the couch.

Mom paused in the doorway and addressed one of the policemen before turning back to Jazz. “Just a second — yeah?”

“Where’s Flynn? He likes this show.”

“Um,” said Mom.

She cleared her throat.

“That’s what the policemen are going to help us with. I’m sure he’ll be back before it’s over.”

Their cousin was not back before it was over. He wasn’t back at all, but this, like most everything else from when he was two years old, fell through Danny’s memory like it was water.

...

Jack had been wary of his sister-in-law coming over for a week. He’d also been wary when Maddie described her sister’s marriage as “getting better” and said that she was “calling off the divorce.”

Anyway, within two days of the visit Danny had gotten it into his head that his uncle’s name was Damn-It-Bob.

But the most disconcerting thing was that Jack couldn’t do much about the situation. Alicia was a notoriously private person, and considered the matter of her marriage between herself, Maddie, and Damn-It-Bob. Trying to get close enough to be allowed into that inner circle was an exercise in self-endangerment. He had tried exactly once in college, and the dislocated wrist he’d gotten out of that arm wrestling match nearly cost him his scholarship.

Getting through to Damn-It-Bob was even more frustrating. Alicia, at least, cared about Maddie’s studies. She didn’t understand them, but looked on with interest as Maddie expertly extracted a sample from the latest ghost specimen and held it up to the light for her sister to see.

Damn-It-Bob was worse than an outsider. He was a snob.

Damn-It-Bob looked like if Alicia didn’t already have a pickup truck, he’d drive a Prius, and if he ever tried tikka masala he’d brag about it. Jack had to assume that if Alicia married him, they had to have some kind of common ground, but damn if he couldn’t figure out what it was. And apparently neither could they.

He had a degree in aerospace engineering, which he constantly emphasized was a really useful science. Alicia didn’t even have to work at the logging company if she didn’t want to keep up the family business.

He tried to charm the kids with pictures of the rockets he’d designed. It worked on Danny, which, yeah, okay, he was two years old, but Jazz seemed to pick up his intentions and tried to steer Danny away. Jeez. If Jack left her alone for five minutes, she might be doing calculus when he came back.

And then there was the kid.

He didn’t even notice that he was there until the Walkers were standing in the living room. Jack had walked behind Alicia to hang up their coats and suddenly saw him standing right behind her.

The kid hadn’t said a word in the entire thirty-minute production of his family coming inside — or if he had, he hadn’t been listened to. He had this sort of rust-colored hair that stuck out in all directions, like they tied up a big ponytail on the top of his head and chopped it off instead of giving him a real haircut.

Getting closer,  Jack finally saw why the kid wasn’t talking. He had his nose buried in some book. Oh, so he was one of those, Jack thought. He hadn’t personally been a child who devoured books like a woodchipper, but Vlad had.

In any case, silent reading hour was over. “Hey, bucko!” said Jack. The kid nearly jumped out of his skin, one hand snapping the book shut like a cell phone at the end of a tense call. “Thirsty for knowledge, I see? We’ve got more down in the lab.”

He shrunk away. Alicia noticed and put a hand on his shoulder as she turned her attention away from Maddie. “—so that’s how the union settled. And you two remember Flynn, right?” she said, ruffling the kid’s hair. “We brought him to Danny’s baby shower. He was so shy back then you thought the table was set by a ghost for a solid thirty minutes.”

Maddie’s eyes landed on Flynn and lit up in recognition. “Oh, yeah! I remember. You were at least a head shorter last time we saw you.”

Flynn nodded, staring at his shoes. He hugged the book to his chest like it was a stuffed animal.

Alicia and her husband chuckled politely. “Well, you might have seen him earlier if you didn’t pull out your toys to try and find that ghost,” said her husband, less politely.

“Bob, could you please be civil?” Alicia said under her breath.

“The event was delayed by an hour and we missed our flight over a bunch of—”

“Damn it, Bob—”

“It was a poltergeist, technically,” Maddie laughed nervously, stepping between them, a note of oh lord not this again in her voice.

“Hey, kids, how about we go down to the basement and check out some cool gadgets?” Jack was itching to take Flynn and the children downstairs. He had to ditch the conversation before it went south. “Wanna see what ghost bones look like?”

Flynn actually looked like he was going to respond to that, but Damn-It-Bob cut in. “Flynn probably wouldn’t be interested in theoretical science. He likes studying useful things.”

Yeah, ectoscience was theoretical. You could tell it was bad because it was italicized.

Jack resisted the urge to get passive-aggressive right back. Not in front of the children. “There’s plenty of physical things in the lab that I’m sure Flynn’s gonna love. Every kid loves lasers. Right, Danny?” he queried his son, who was chewing on the leg of the coffee table.

Danny blew a raspberry, which he assumed was a yes. Jack managed to whisk them away before the Walkers started swearing at each other.

He put Jazz and Danny down in the little area of the lab that they’d sectioned off with a foldable plastic dog gate, where Jazz made herself busy putting all the crayons in a straight line before Danny picked them up and started scribbling on the rubber tiled floor.

“So, Flynn! We’ve got some whosits and whatsits to check out. That catches ghosts,” Jack said, pointing at the gadgets skewed across the counter like exploded, “this blasts ghosts, that catches and blasts ghosts, and this is a hot dog maker. What do you wanna see first?”

Flynn shrugged and shuffled an inch backwards.

Okay, this wasn’t going anywhere. Which was odd — they’d opened up the ops center to tourists in the past for alternate revenue, and kids always seemed to be the most excited about the gadgets.

Plan B, he guessed. “What’s that book about, anyway?” he said.

Flynn hesitantly held out the book. Jack took it. It was a big, heavy book, with a hard cover titled The Collected Jack London. Jack went to open it to a random page, but was interrupted when his leafing caused something to fall out from between the pages.

It was a flower. Flynn quickly snatched it off the floor and took his book back, scowling. “It’s sabatia geu — sabatia geutianoides,” he muttered. “It’s one of the rarest flowers in Arkansas, so I can’t pick another one.” He then very carefully flipped to another page in the book, counting the page numbers in whispers until he found the one he was looking for and slipped the flower back inside.

Ah. He could work with that. “Really? Is it the rarest one you’ve got?” he said, posing a challenge.

“Uh, I have Stern’s medlar, but just a leaf I got off the ground. They’re cruh — crit — crit-i-cal-ly endangered.”

“We’ve got some samples of a pretty rare plant ourselves.”

Flynn’s eyes lit up. “Can I see them?”

Jack took Flynn off into a side room. This room was mostly like the last, though being closed to visitors, it was far less organized. He picked Flynn up and lifted him over a heap of spare parts on the floor. “Watch your step.”

A cacophony of containers were heaped on a table in the center of the room. Only a few of them were planter pots that they’d already owned; the rest were old shoeboxes and burned-out pots and pans. They were all filled with soil. Their occupants stretched their purple-black stems towards the overhead sun lamp.

“Rosa sanguinea, also known as the Massachusetts blood blossom,” said Jack. “They were grown in the 1600s — apparently they release an anti-ghost vapor. Unfortunately, we can’t prove whether it works, since we don’t have any intact ghosts to test it on, but they’re delicious.”

“That’s so weird.” Flynn rubbed a black leaf between his fingers, as if he expected the color to come off. “Roses aren’t normally hardy enough to grow inside. And the leaves are naturally black?”

“Yep. Well, maybe. We think they were mutated by long-term exposure to ecto-energy. The biggest patch of them is around Salem, and that place is a hotspot for the natural portals to the dimension ghosts live in,” he said, pointing at the pictures of such that they’d pinned to the corkboard across the room. Jack himself couldn’t believe some of the places that they’d found natural portals in. One of the pictures on the corkboard was of a portal they’d found in a public toilet. “They’re stubborn little buggers, but only in ecto-energized soil — we had to cart the dirt in these pots all the way back from Massachusetts.”

Jack snapped his fingers.

“I’ve got an idea.” He picked up a blood blossom growing in a mason jar and handed it to Flynn. “That’s yours now. Take it back to Arkansas, and it’ll protect you from ghosts.”

“Really?” said Flynn, seemingly more awestruck by the plant itself than any properties it might’ve had. “I can have it?”

“All yours! After all, who knows when you might need it?”

...

Flynn hadn’t wanted to leave Arkansas. He hadn’t wanted to sit in Mom’s funny-smelling truck for ten-odd hours while listening to them argue about money, and ghosts, and damn it Bob, would it kill you to put the toilet paper in the holder the right way just once?

At some of the rest stops, Flynn had stood in the bathroom and stared in the mirror. The door was right behind him and Dad hadn’t left the stall yet. He could just turn around and run into the woods, so Mom and Dad would talk about something other than their horrible marriage.

Because Flynn was ten years old, and the problem that he saw was nothing as complex as an incompatibility of personality, or people growing apart. The problem he saw was that they needed to shut up about the divorce.

That was all he wanted. Something to come in and make them shut up, and make the divorce go away, and put things back where they were supposed to be.

But obviously that’s not how things work. Flynn went outside and picked dandelions that were growing at the edge of the parking lot, and he held them outside the window while they were driving so the seeds would scatter all along the road, and he still ended up visiting Uncle Jack and Aunt Maddie in New York, and Mom and Dad were still fighting over stupid stuff.

Flynn kept trying to put off the tour. He knew that Dad would hate the lab. He stuck with real things, metal and chalk numbers — never mind that one of the major points of contention was the slew of Young Living boxes sitting in their garage. A better statement was that Dad rejected any science he didn’t think he could exploit. Like, son, wildflowers are nice and all, but you know that the real money’s in saffron, right? It sells for twenty-five hundred a pop and it’s not getting any cheaper. Just think about it, son.

“ —converts ectoplasm into a power source.” Aunt Maddie was showing them something embedded in the lab wall. Flynn didn’t really like ectoscience either, but that was mostly because the topic freaked him out. He didn’t like when his friends played that pencil game that let you talk to ghosts, much less when his uncle talked about ripping them apart mmmolecule by mmmolecule.

It just felt kind of rude. They were people, at some point. Everyone knew a dead person.

“Quaint,” said Dad, turning over the hot dog maker he had found on the counter. “Very quaint.” It was his usual word of condemnation. “What’s that hole in the wall?”

It was barely a hole. Not so much because of size, but because it was so badly occupied by a tangle of wire that actually entering it would be impossible. Aunt Maddie said: “Our prototype for a stable portal into the ghost zone.” Dad scoffed, but she smiled tightly and ignored it. “With a reliable and stationary portal, we can collect data faster.”

“And it took you ten years to think of that?”

“Bob, if you don’t want to see it, you can just wait in the guest room,” said Mom, rubbing her temples.

“No, it’s fine, Alicia.” Aunt Maddie sighed. “We’ve been thinking of it. It just took this long to make sure building a portal large enough for a human to enter would be safe. A few years ago, a friend of ours was injured by one that wasn’t any bigger than a car tire — precautions needed to be taken—”

Dad put up his hand in a ‘halt’ gesture. “So, wait. You know that those things can hurt people, and yet you build a big one in your basement, and let your kids in here ?”

“They’re at a safe distance — they’re not even on the same side of the lab,” said Aunt Maddie, eyes narrow.

“Oh, thank goodness you let your toddlers play some paces away from a potential biohazard! ” Dad threw up his hands in fake relief. “I guess that makes it okay, then!”

Aunt Maddie looked like she was gearing up to shout. But she glanced at her kids in their little corner hutch, and seemed to think better of it. “Look, Bob, I — help me understand. Five minutes ago you were calling ghosts ‘fairy tales,’ and now you’re getting on about potentially endangering my children with something that, by your own logic, shouldn’t do anything. What’s your real problem?”

“My ‘real problem’ is that, ghosts or not — and there are certainly not — the fact that someone got hurt at all tells me that you’re tampering with something that you don’t understand—”

“Bob, that’s enough —”

Seed dispersion was one of the fundamental adaptations of the plant world. A seed that dropped straight down from its parent plant was a dead seed. It wouldn’t be able to access sufficient nutrition, water, or light so close.

Mom exiled him and Dad from the lab so she could have a good talk with Aunt Maddie. Uncle Jack awkwardly let them sit on the couch and watch NCIS with him.

“I just think that pseudoscience has no place in being the primary income for a family,” said Dad.

Uncle Jack nodded with a poorly disguised grimace.

“Anyway, have you heard that lavender has anti-autism properties?”

Uncle Jack suddenly excused himself to go to the bathroom. Luckily, Dad seemed to think that the distant laughter was coming from the TV.

Dandelions had a nasty taxonomy. They were wind-dispersed, able to fly up to sixty miles away from their parent plant, where they isolated and readily speciated. This was a large part of the reason why Flynn couldn’t appreciate them without every adult in an eighty-mile radius screaming it’s a weed!

By Sunday, Mom and Dad couldn’t be in the same room together without shouting.

By Wednesday, they wouldn’t speak to each other at all.

By Saturday, they started calling the divorce lawyer again.

That night before they went back to Arkansas, Flynn slept on his aunt and uncle’s couch. He could hear Mom and Dad talking in the guest room above. At indoor voice levels. He didn’t know whether that was good or bad.

The potted blood blossom sat on the end table atop Jack London.

He was woken up at two in the morning when something spritzed him in the face like he was a cat. Flynn squinted in the darkness for what it could be and was immediately spritzed again. He wiped the spray off his face and jolted at the sight of a red smear on his wrist.

A faint hiss was coming from the end table. Flynn watched as the blood blossom emitted a quiet red steam into the air.

He looked around the room nervously. Then he looked out the front window.

At the very end of the street, between the buildings, there was a faint green glow that looked very much like Uncle Jack’s pictures.

Well, of course dandelions were weeds. When something survived too well, humans inevitably got all up in their business, trying to trammel them in. It was a weed because it didn’t cooperate with that.

Flynn didn’t need to pack his bag; he had already loaded everything from the trip back in, but he added some more anyway. He got a knife, a frying pan, and a BIC lighter out of the kitchen. And of course, he took his book and the blood blossom.

Then he walked out the front door for the last time.

It was a muggy July night, and all the lights in the windows were out. The streetlamps pooled in the road. The green light creeped into the alleyway on tiptoe.

Flynn stood before a hole in the world and found himself alone. The hole didn’t appear to properly occupy the alley. It looked like a bad photoshop in person. Just standing a foot away from it, he could feel the static electricity. It felt like it was ruffling his hair in a gesture of approval.

There was a deep hum that might have been the portal, or the flies buzzing around it, or Flynn’s heart getting ready to tear itself from his chest in excitement or fear. He did not know which.

The blood blossom was beginning to overflow its mason jar with red condensation. Flynn poured it out onto the ground. It mixed with the dank puddles in the mundane depressions of the concrete that, absurdly, continued to exist in the presence of something so otherworldly.

Flynn reached through the portal. It felt like cold water — strange, but not icy enough to be unpleasant.

This was what he needed. Something he didn’t know, somewhere his parents couldn’t find him. He could find shelter with those familiar spirits for a little while, and his blood blossom would protect him as his parents looked for him, and then he would come back and they would be so happy and angry to see him that they wouldn’t talk about the divorce again for another year at least, and it would be nice, and it would just be so nice, it would just be so nice when he got back.

And then the light consumed his vision.

...

Twelve years later.

“Jazz? Did you just come through the portal?” Danny squinted at the readout on the specter speeder — the constant green light of the ghost zone made it hard to read at times.

“No?” she said over the speeder’s radio. “I’m still in the lab, why?”

“Because the radar’s picking up signs of life.”

[mrvdocks]

Plus One Finale

Summary: You and Steve make up. Steve plans for the future ahead.

A/N: We finally made it to the end, thanks to everyone who read it and liked it and reblogged it. :))

@mochminnie​, @80strashbag​, @artsymaddie​, @har-rison-s​, @theblueslytherin​, @prettysbliss​, @deliberatequeen​, @fl0ating​, @crystalyn-aurelia​, @itsbabybat​, @bellasymph​, @hawishima​, @hvtelcalifornia​, @stevexharringtonx​, @fisherbrookphotos​, @revangeline​

He paced back and forth in the hallway of the animal clinic, somehow both muttering to himself and racking his head for some way to reply other than the incredulous reaction he just gave you.

You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head. You knew it, you knew it was too soon to say. 

You cross your legs in an attempt to stop the distracting bouncing of your leg and ease your nerves. 

Sure he just confessed he loved you and apologized, but now that you could possibly be pregnant? What if that was the dealbreaker?

“Steve.” You call, attempting to break him from his trance.

He mutters more, going much too fast for you to understand. 

“Steve!” You exclaim, unable to take the suspense.

He stops and turns to face you, visibly shaken. You exhale shakily, trying to keep yourself steady emotionally.

“Listen, if what you said earlier is true, then this is nothing.”

“This is nothing? (Y/N) we’re bringing someone else into our messed up lives. What if we’re terrible parents?”

You stand and take his worrisome hand in yours, “So we don’t have the best model. That’s fine! They’re not the ones raising this kid, it’s us. It’s you and me.” 

He bites his lip in thought, eyes falling to his feet. You felt your heart race as you tried to decipher his emotions. You loved Steve, kid or no kid. But this was something you two needed to face. 

“I don’t know. I - ” he shrugs. 

You try not to remember the last time he shrugged and what followed. 

“You and I don’t need to make a decision so quickly. We can sleep on it. Alright?” You try to be comforting, smoothing out the lines on his disheveled shirt.

He seems to relax at this and nods. You nod in conclusion.

“I’ll be back.” He says, letting go of your hands and walking down the dimly lit corridor. 

“Where are you going?” 

He won’t leave you, right? 

“I have to do something. I’ll see you back home.” 

He leaves in a rush. It hit you then. Home. You were dreading returning to the apartment all this time because you were afraid of the confrontation. 

You had planned on coming back sure, maybe yell at him or take Mickey as you’d promised, but the thought of having to confront his issues and your own made your stomach do somersaults. And not in the good way. 

But it seemed to turn out fine. You sighed. 

You and Steve barely got by as it is. Robin’s leave put more strain on both of you to come up with rent money. Neither you nor Steve were too content in your career choices, and God knows the place would get cramped with a kid. 

It was hard to be an optimist in these trying times but you tried to hold out hope. Maybe things would get better. After all, you had new friends, you’d made new connections. Who knows where that would take you. 

You wondered what your sister would say. For once, you valued her input in this. 

Honestly, the thought of the future from this point on made your heart race. 

Steve was capable of growth…..right?

Once Mickey was cleared to go home, you let out a breath of relief you didn’t realize you were holding. Things felt a lot lighter, it was a weight off of your shoulders. Though a tiny pebble by the name of Steve remained. 

You carried your dozed pet out in your arms in the early hours of the morning, choosing to walk it home and avoid another Danny encounter. 

It was a chilly week in November. The crunch of the leaves under your feet wasn’t enough to rouse Mickey awake but you kept count of how many you stepped on.

You don’t recall how long it took you to get home. It was most likely the autopilot in you flipping on, your head just too worried about other things at the moment. 

You just know you’d made it home without a scratch. You kick away the pile of mail at the foot of your doorstep and take the extra key under the mat. Once you’re inside, the warmth of the radiator kicks in, letting your body relax after the tensing up of your muscles to keep warm outside. 

You lay Mickey down in his makeshift bed, the foot tub with a mix of yours and Steve’s old shirts. He grumbles in his sleep, his tiny tongue peaking out in lazy and unconscious movement. 

You shake off Jonathan’s coat and drape it over your body like a blanket and collapse onto the couch, too lazy to curl up into your own bed. 

You shiver as you run your hands over your arms and cup your hands together to blow air into them. The tiredness from walking and overall excitement of the day weighed over you from the way you felt your eyelids start to fall. 

You blink once, twice, and then fall asleep just in time to see Mickey kick and stretch his paws in his sleep.

Steve pants as he reaches the door of the room at the hotel his father’s staying at. He’d been too hasty to berate his future stepbrothers once he saw what they’d done to Mickey. 

He knocks rapidly on the door, seeming like a madman to the couple who’s just leaving their own room and staring at him. He composes himself, zips his jacket up, and gives a faint nod as they pass him.

His dad opens the door a second later. “Hey kiddo, what’s with the commotion?”

“She’s pregnant.” Steve regurgitates your confession to his father. Don’s mouth falls open slightly. 

He closes it and stammers. He turns to check on the kids in the room, seeing them preoccupied with the tv. When the coast is clear, he closes the door behind him and stays with Steve outside in the hallway. 

“I - that was fast.” Don chuckles, feeling flustered for his son. “What did you tell her?”

“I ran here to tell you!” 

Don’s hand comes up to pinch the bridge of his nose in disappointment.

“So you’re telling me, the girl of your dreams, the one you’ve been miserable over breaking her heart, just told you she’s pregnant and the first thing you do is leave her and run to me??” 

Steve understands the gravity of the situation but he is stuck on the thought that he needed all the advice he could squeeze out of his father.

“Basically.” He says simply.

Don sighs. “What’s the problem, then?”

Steve’s shoulders slump. “I don’t know how to be a dad. In case you haven’t noticed I didn’t have the best model.”

Don nearly rolls his eyes. 

“Is that really the reason, or is there another?”

Steve stays silent, contemplating while his eyes scan every inch of the hallway from the detail on the carpeting to the colors. 

“I guess….I’m not happy with where I am right now. I’m pushing thirty in two years, I’m a bartender, everyone I know got married and I just feel like I’m out of time. But Dad, this girl. She - she’s everything I’m not. She’s spontaneous and funny and sarcastic and - I don’t know, sometimes I just feel like she could be doing so much better than me.”

Don places a hand on Steve’s shoulder and gently shakes him. “Hey, don’t say that. You’re a Harrington, you’re a catch!” 

Steve half smiles at the encouragement. 

“Steve, everyone progresses through milestones differently. No one knows what they’re doing. And if we’re being honest, I think you just have to find what you like and hold onto it. Something that makes you want to get out of bed every day and just take all of the bull that life throws at you because, at the end of the day, that something is always going to be there. Have you found something to do that for you?”

Steve nearly dissociates altogether as he falls deep in thought as his father speaks. His mind reeling the montage of memories his brain concocts like film. 

He sees you the day you walked into the apartment and into his life, covered in dirty water from being sprayed by a taxi on the curb and taking it in stride and making jokes about it. He sees you dancing in the kitchen to god awful music he’d grown to love in a big shirt and long socks. He sees the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh hysterically at the prospect of trying to help him find dates. The image of you sitting near the radiator with a book in hand and your thinking face. 

He thinks these past few months might’ve just been the best ones he’s ever had. Before he went and ruined it. 

He didn’t think he would experience something like this after Nancy. He thought he could just run away from Hawkins and leave the bad memories there, but they crept up on him when he least expected it. His fear was not your fault. 

He was done running and he was ready to grow. 

“Yeah,” he nods. “I think I do.”

The phone ringing off the hook startled you awake. You sit upright, finding Jonathan’s coat at your feet and Mickey pawing at the phone cord. He wriggles his head side to side when he finally gets the cord in between his teeth. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” You mutter to yourself. You pick Mickey up with swift ease and pull the cord out of his mouth to pick up the phone.

“I’m up.” You announce somewhat sleepily into the phone.

“Good! I have news!” Nancy’s rapid-fire voice comes through and alerts you awake.

“Wait! I did it, Nance! I told him!”

“Oh, what did he say?”

“He….kind of took off.”

“He what?!” 

“Okay to be fair, a lot has happened in the past,” you glance at your wrist to see you’ve been asleep for a while. “Five hours? Geez.” 

“Okay, okay. Well, we don’t have to worry about this anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“The tests! They’re faulty! They’re recalling them for false positives or something. I don’t know but Kali just called to tell me.”

“Oh….” You trail off. 

In a way, you're very relieved. And yet also a little disappointed. But very relieved.

“What’s wrong?” Nancy senses something’s off. “I figured you’d breathe a little better if you knew the truth.”

“No I am,” you say, cradling Mickey in your arm like a mom with a baby on her hip. “I don’t know, I guess I kind of made my peace with it.”

“Oh, well hey, maybe it’s a good conversation starter for both of you.”

You lean against the wall where the phone hangs, letting your furry son sit on the counter. “Yeah maybe. I mean, it was all too fast anyways.”

“Yeah! You have lots of time. Just take baby steps. I think slow and steady would put yours and his mind at ease.”

You had to agree. Time had to heal all wounds. You two had to start again, without interruptions. 

You finish talking to Nancy, reassuring her that you’d need to get over the first wave of shock and tell him when he turned up. She offered to go over but you’d declined. When everything’s over, you collapse onto the couch again, slumping as far as your back would let you. Your stomach protruding a little from under your tee. You roll up the lower half of your shirt and let it sit above your belly button. 

You prod your fingers at nothing, feeling odd and a little bit silly at the thought that there would be a little person in there. 

Mickey whimpers. 

“Looks like you’re the baby still.” You chuckle, scratching behind his ears.

The peace and silence are broken by the door swinging open to reveal an out of breath Steve. You straighten up immediately and pull your shirt down. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, making a pass to reach for him but he sticks a hand out for you to wait as he regains his composure. 

“I’m….fine…..just have to….talk...holdonaminute.”

He’s visibly sweating, beads of sweat on his forehead. He looks like he just ran track. His pants come to a slow until he’s back to normal. He puts his hands on his knees and it takes everything in you to not make an old joke for the sake of the seriousness of the situation.

He stands up straight, keeping his eyes trained on you, and with a softness in them, you feel at ease.

“I quit my job.” He says finally.

Your eyes widen. “You what?”

The confession hung in the air, settling in like the warmth of the radiator. He rushes to you and kneels before you can leap up off the couch and takes your hands in his. 

“Hear me out. Before you get mad, just hear me out.”

“Okay.” 

“I’ve done a lot and I mean a lot of reassessment about you, me, everything. If we’re going to do this, I want them to be proud of me. I want to be there for them as much as I can be. I’m starting over. At 28.” 

You stifle a laugh but release it when Steve takes the initiative to laugh at himself. 

“So….what are you going to be doing now?” You give his hands a squeeze, utterly terrified at the plunge he’s taking.

He looks as if he hasn’t planned that far ahead besides quitting. “I….don't know. But it’s, um, kind of cool. I get to see a bunch of different jobs. Find out what I really like.” 

“And, what’s that?”

“You.” He smiles, the sight of it sending butterflies free in your stomach. “I like you. So, so much. You’re not hard to get at all, you’re hard to earn. I’d take that over any messy, drunk bridesmaid.”

You tilt your head, feeling the corners of your lips lifting and before you know it, you’re grinning like an idiot.

“And that’s why,” he says, his right hand leaving yours and digging into his pocket to bring out a plastic ring from the bubble gum machines in the laundromat downstairs, “I’m jumping in, all the way.”

“Steve…” You’re nearly speechless. “Oh my god, what are you doing?”

“I know it’s not perfect or big or shiny. But this is just a placeholder for now. I’m all in if you are.” He holds the ring with the pink gem in his fingers, waiting for you.

Maybe it’s the fact that ever since you started to see him in a different light since the start of the year, you’d determined that you’d follow him anywhere. Whether he’d have you or not. Even with his moods and awkwardness and clumsiness. He’d been scored on your heart. You’d marry him with paper rings.

“I’m not pregnant.” You reveal.

His face softens. “What?”

“Nancy called earlier before you came. The tests were faulty. I just wanted you to know that so that wasn’t the only reason you decided to do this.”

It was and wasn’t the reason. But in all honesty, he didn’t think he could bear to stomach the idea of not being with you or the image of you with someone else. He also doesn’t think starting over with someone else was the best idea, you two had been through so much in two years. You shared a particular connection. One that he now realizes he had been looking through seas of beige and silvers and golds. 

“It’s not,” he titters, “I don’t care that we don’t have the meet-cutes or the chance run-ins. That’s not what love really is. I thought it was more complex but it’s so - simple. It’s about being comfortable with someone and wanting to hang out with them as long as it’s humanly possible….and just not trying to mess it up the way I did.”

Your heart swells. This is love for him. This is him planting his foot in the sand and not running away when the sea rushes for him. Anyone else would’ve ditched him the moment things got ugly. But you were nothing if devoted.

“Yes, Dingus. I’m in too.” You nod, overjoyed as you feel your eyes get watery. 

Don & Mary’s Wedding

December 25, 1994

Hawkins, Indiana

“Okay, okay, how does this look?” Steve asks, fixing his tux for the fifth time that day. 

You roll your eyes. “You look fine babe, honestly. We’ve ironed the jacket out twice. Any more and I think you’re going to set it on fire and then you’ll upstage the bride.”

Steve snorts, fixing the knot on his tie. “I’m sorry. I’m just so nervous. I can’t mess up the speech.”

You fix the starchy collar of his shirt. “I’ve heard it many times and I think you’ll do great. Just don’t think too much about it.”

“You don’t think it’s too late to back out?” 

“I think,” You pull him by his tie close to your face to tease him. “If you can get through this, you can either have the best after-party experience or you can get the new fridge.”

Steve purses his lips, conflicted. “We do need a new fridge.”

You playfully smack his arm as you feign offense. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He repeats, enveloping you in a hug. 

“Whoa, whoa, easy on the goods.” You say, smoothing out the easily crinkled fabric of your dress. 

“I’m always easy on them.” He jests, slipping in innuendo that you still find yourself blushing to.

“Alright, alright. Let’s go before they start guessing why we’re late.” 

You climb onto his back and ride him piggyback all the way to the elevator. He goes over his speech one more time as you descend and tries to tell a joke at the end that doesn’t stick the landing. 

You arrive just in time, settling at the table next to the newlyweds. You pat Steve on the shoulder, give him a glass, and wish him good luck. “Go get ‘em.” 

He kisses you tenderly before he goes up on stage, feeling like a teen again the way his senses go crazy when he kisses you. He fumbles his way up the stairs to the microphone making you hold back a laugh. He composes himself a second later.

“Hey everyone! Thanks for coming. I’m Steve. Most of you know me as Don’s son. And if you’re wondering why I’m up here giving his best man speech, so am I.”

The crowd of family and friends laugh in unison.  

Steve fixes his footing and his grip on the champagne glass tightens. 

“The truth is, I put up a pretty big stink about all of this. I didn’t want to do it. To me, a second marriage was ill-advised. I mean, my parents’ divorce was pretty hard to swallow. But also, I just didn’t get it. I believed in things like fate and love at first sight, that once you found the one, that was the ballgame.”

He scans the crowd, passing familiar faces like Jonathan and Nancy, Dustin and Suzie, Robin and Kali, each one helping take the pressure off just a bit. He stops when he lands on you, your warm smile and thumbs up making him feel better.

“But the truth is, if you spend your whole life looking for something perfect, you wind up with nothing. See, there are many innings in this ball game and I don’t think it's about good timing or fate. It’s about trying not to mess up.”

He locks eyes with you for the last part.

“But you will mess up. No matter how hard you try, you’ll get in your own head. But if you can learn from your mistakes, you might just end up with something...even better.”

“I’d like to raise a glass,” He says, raising his cup along with everyone else. “Dad, Mary, congratulations.”

The guests applaud as Don is overcome with emotion and wipes at his happy tears and takes his son in a bear hug. Steve is taken aback by the sudden strength of his father and nearly drops his glass.

The party goes off without a hitch. Steve actually partakes in the festivities with pride and even makes an attempt to get to know his stepbrothers. He laughs at their awful attempts at jokes and bestows some girl advice when they ask him about you. Jonathan, Nancy, Robin, Kali, Dustin and Suzie all congratulate Steve when they find out what the pink stone on your finger means. You meet Steve’s mom for the first time, a charming and lovely woman who is eager to show you loose baby pictures in her clutch and embarrassing stories.

You wait on the sidelines watching as the new Harrington family take their family photos. Mary and Steve talk in what seems to be a sincere and sweet conversation. Don is trying to bribe the rambunctious kids with sweets if they can sit still for the photo. Jonathan glances from them to you.

“Hey,” He asks from behind the camera. “Why aren’t you in there?”

You open your mouth to justify it until Don speaks up.

“He’s right. What are you doing there? Come in! Come in!” He waves you over with encouragement until the entire Harrington gang begins to beg for you to jump in.

“Come in sweetie!” Mary cheers.

You’re about to make your way until Steve leaves the group and carries you over his shoulder. Jonathan smirks as he takes multiple photos, taking advantage of the candid moment. Steve’s stepbrothers singsong about you two kissing in a tree. The Harrington party make a mixture of sounds and cheers as Steve puts you down and wraps his arms around you in a prom pose. You go with it, feeling like you belonged in this crazy puzzle with other people. The little kids make a disgusted sound when you peck Steve on the cheek.

He kisses the top of your head in return and gives you a squeeze. 

For the first time in his life, Steve’s not afraid of the future. 

[artificialqueens]

By Your Side (Biadore) - Candy Cane

A/N: just a oneshot based off of a prompt sent in that asked for bianca finding out abt adore’s onlyfans! its not quite that tbh but the words take me where they want to go lol please enjoy!! <3 theres some other things ive been trying to work on but its slow going rn as my cat is very sick and a lot of my time and energy has been dedicated to him, but i hope to get more out soon!

It’s only been a few months into quarantine when Adore finds herself on the phone with one of her oldest friends. Like, old physically not old as in how long they’ve known each other. But to be fair, there aren’t a ton of people she’s been friends with longer than she’s been friends with Bianca. Courtney and Darienne too for that matter.

She loves Bianca. Their friendship is something precious to her, and surprisingly this is only the second phone call they’ve had since quarantine has started. They talk basically every day through texts, and that’s on top of the hours they spend going back and forth in the ABCD group chat with Courtney and Darienne. The four of them have something special, all of them realize that. There’s just something specifically between her and Bianca that Adore’s never really been able to place her finger on.

Out of the blue this morning Bianca simply… called her. Adore spends a full moment staring at the CallerID trying to figure out where the fuck this is coming from. With an uncertain frown, she answers the phone, hanging upside down off the side of her bed of course.

“So… OnlyFans? Seriously?” Bianca asks incredulously, her voice crackling over the phone speaker.

What a way to start a conversation after not hearing each other’s voices for like a month! Even though Adore can’t see her face, she can practically hear the raised eyebrow.

“Fuck you,” Adore laughs, unable to help smiling at Bianca’s playful accusations.

“Not that I’m mad, but why fucking OnlyFans? Aren’t bitches doing podcasts now?”

“I’m bored, okay? There’s not a lot to do but drink and masturbate, and drinking hasn’t really been doing it for me lately. Plus, I gotta make money somehow,” Adore grumbles through an explanation, lifting herself up and sprawling out on her bed awkwardly.

“Do I need to set up an intervention? You know I will,” Bianca says with faux seriousness, “Seriously though, if you need some help…”

Adore frowns down at her phone. She hates pity, she hates unnecessary worry, and she definitely hates burdening people with her bullshit.

“B, I’m fine, I promise,” she says earnestly, “I guess I just… I miss you. A lot. And we can’t see each other right now and it fucking sucks and I’m really lonely-”

“Come over.”

“What? I can’t, B, we’re quarantined…”

“When’s the last time you left your apartment?”

“Uhh, I dunno, maybe a month ago?’ Adore answers, unsure of where Bianca is going with this.

“Okay, that’s well over two weeks. Come hang out with me for a few days, get some human interaction, I’ve been needing it myself. I haven’t gone out or seen anyone for a few weeks now,” Bianca admits, and Adore feels suddenly giddy.

It’s been so long since she’s seen someone, since she’s even gotten a hug, and she really wants to see Bianca…

“I’ll be there tomorrow morning,” Adore agrees, not even thinking twice about it.

Bianca is everything to her. This person was one of the first to really take her seriously, to really see something in her, and Adore doesn’t know where she’d be without her. Every time something goes wrong, her first instinct is to call Bianca. Everytime something amazing happens, her first instinct is to call Bianca. They’ll spend hours talking or texting just because and Adore wouldn’t have it any other way.

They are as good together as PB&J, or peanut butter and celery, or peanut butter and pretzels… And Adore realizes she is feeling very snacky, specifically for peanut butter. With a sigh she rolls off her bed to get a snack before she starts packing for the next week.

The point is Adore loves Bianca, and Danny loves Roy. Sure maybe it’s in a different way than they should, or even once did, but it can’t be helped. It can be hidden, though. And Danny is more than fine with hiding this secret, as long as they get to have Roy in their life at all. He’s more than what Danny should ever even hope for, and yet a part of them can’t help but hope.

After spending so much time apart, Danny knows it’ll be harder now than ever to hide these feelings they’ve been harboring for Roy. They’ll try though, because sometimes the thought of this man loving them back is all that keeps them going.

Danny arrives at Roy’s beautiful new house in Palm Springs at nearly noon the next day. Which, to be fair, is very much the morning for Danny. They even woke up early to make the trip! …If ten a.m. counts as early in any book except their own.

Roy is already standing out in the driveway waiting for Danny when they get there, his arms spread wide for a hug the second Danny gets out of their car. The younger practically rocket launches themself into his arms, clinging tight to him as they savor the first hug they’ve gotten in such a long fucking time. Danny can’t help the tears that fall at finally having such warm, loving human contact, especially from this person.

They hold onto each other as tight as they can, each beyond glad to have each other’s trust in such unreliable times. Being alone for so long had hit Roy hard too. Alcohol and binge watching can really only do so much, and he’s genuinely been feeling lonely being stuck in one spot for so long. The dogs help some, but at the end of the day it really doesn’t replace human interaction, no matter how hard he wishes it did.

“I missed you, baby girl,” Roy says, and Danny can almost hear his voice waver.

“I missed you too,” Danny whispers, trying and failing to hold back a sob.

They leave Danny’s bag in the car for now, much more eager to go sit down and enjoy each other’s company. The dogs bombard the two of them the second Danny crosses the threshold, the enby leaning instantly down to kiss and coo at the babies and Roy can’t help grinning widely at the sight. He loves his babies, and he loves his baby girl.

They spend the afternoon talking and laughing and playing with the dogs. Danny clearly gets some ideas about the golf cart, and Roy is suddenly excited about the upcoming few days. It’s been a while since either of them have really had something to look forward to.

“Alright, I still need you to explain this OnlyFans thing to me,” Roy says with a smirk a few hours later, after they’ve gotten properly settled in on the couch together with the dogs.

Danny’s eyes go wide with slight panic, “Okay, grandpa, it’s like uhhh, Patreon but-”

“No, no, no!” Roy laughs, “I know what it is, I mean why that? Why not literally anything else?”

“First of all, I am sexy. Second of all, I spent a lot of time not making money masturbating, which is a fucking shame because as I said before I am sexy.”

They both crack up at that, giggling like idiots on Roy’s couch, the puppies quickly joining in, yipping at them to be a part of the excitement.

“Awww, do you two think I’m funny?” Danny coos, picking Dede up and cuddling the pup close, “Your daddy doesn’t think I’m funny!”

Roy snorts, “You’ve certainly picked up a thing or two from me.”

“Like how to be a bitter old hermit!” Danny grins sweetly.

“Exactly,” Roy laughs.

“So if I ask really nicely will this bitter old hermit make me food?” Danny asks, batting their eyelashes pleadingly.

“My original plan was to let you starve to death while you were here, but since you’re asking nicely…” Roy says teasingly, feeling an odd sense of satisfaction at the way the younger throws their head back with laughter.

Late that night, after a long night of talking and watching TV and a decent dinner, they curl up into bed together. At one point they both needed to at least be tipsy to do that, but nowadays that’s just overkill. They have progressed well beyond that point of friendship, though Roy sometimes still likes to put on a show of being annoyed, if only because of the way Danny pouts and rolls their eyes.

Tonight he just holds the thick comforter up so Danny can slide in easily with him, he’s not really interested in making either of them wait longer than they already have for cuddles. In seconds the two are holding each other tight, savoring the touch. As Roy lays there, holding Danny like the younger is his lifeline, he starts to think about the time they’ve known each other. All the ups, downs, and side-to-sides… Danny has grown up a lot over the years they’ve been friends, and it’s hard to deny that it’s changed Roy’s feelings for them.

Once his feelings to the younger were almost motherly, but now it’s closer to attraction. It’s kind of weird, at the least it’s very fucked up. Roy wants to just give in to the feelings, but he can’t. Not when he has no way of gaging Danny’s feelings for him. He can live with this secret, he’s not sure he can live without Danny’s friendship.

Danny interrupts his thoughts, their voice small and curious, “Why were you so invested in my OnlyFans?”

“Bitch, I’m trying to sleep here,” Roy groans.

“No, seriously,” Danny pouts, sitting up in bed and looking down at Roy. The moonlight streaming in from the window highlights the enby perfectly, and Roy curses his luck.

“I don’t want you renting yourself out on the corner like Bunny, now get back to sleep you dumb slut,” Roy says with all of his usual teasing heat.

Danny pouts though, clearly not satisfied, “But…”

“Sleep. Now.” Roy demands, reaching up to tug them back under the covers. Danny reluctantly gives in, and snuggles close to Roy.

Just as Roy is about to fall asleep, Danny’s voice has his eyes flying open.

“Roy?”

“What?”

“I love you,” Danny whispers.

Roy’s heart melts a little at that, “I love you too, Danny.”

Danny bites their lip nervously, “I mean like… I think…”

Roy’s heart starts to beat faster in his chest. Surely they couldn’t mean…

“You think…?” Roy asks, hoping that despite it all this person is about to say what he thinks they are.

“I think I might be… in love,” Danny says, their voice quiet and timid in a way Roy hasn’t heard in a very long time, “With you.”

This time Roy is the one to sit up in bed, staring down at Danny with pure infatuation. Those words echo around his ears, his chest, his very soul, and before he even realizes what he’s doing he’s leaning down to capture Danny’s lips in a kiss.

His lips against theirs feels so undeniably right. Their lips move slowly against each other, Danny brings a hand around to cup the back of Roy’s neck and in that moment nothing is wrong in their own little world. In that moment it’s just them and the moonlight. He thinks that he could live forever in this moment and never need anything else.

They break apart much too soon for either of their tastes, and Roy stares into those pretty eyes and murmurs, “I think I love you too.”

Danny surges forward for another kiss, this one much more desperate than the last. It’s a hot, heavy kiss that ends with Roy flat against the bed and both of Danny’s hands cupping his face as they explore each other. It’s like no kiss either of them have had before, with so many years of emotion and uncertainty between them it’s intense. Bianca and Adore have drunkenly kissed before, but this absolutely cannot compare. Danny whimpers pathetically against Roy, their hips grinding down against Roy’s thigh.

Roy lets out a shaky breath and grips at the enby’s barely covered ass. From the way Danny is squirming and moaning after only a little contact, Roy knows it’s been a while since Danny has been with someone like this. Roy hasn’t been able to get laid in a while either, rendering them both more than eager for this. Neither of them have a sexual partner in their circles right now, except maybe each other. Just this morning that would’ve been an absurd thought, and now it’s simply what makes sense.

Both of them need sexual fulfillment as much as they need emotional fulfillment, and even the thought of providing it for each other is thrilling. Roy grabs Danny’s bottom lip roughly between his teeth, sucking on it as he rubs his hands underneath Danny’s oversized tank top and over their skin. Danny whines and whimpers so deliciously in response, and Roy loves it.

Roy and Danny pull the little clothing that is off one another, each soaking in the familiar sight of the other being completely exposed. It’s nowhere near the first time they’ve seen each other like this, but it’s another one of those things where it’s simply different this time around. Because now it’s been established they love each other as much more than just friends.

Danny sucks hickeys along Roy’s collarbone, moaning roughly as Roy twists their nipples harshly, their bodies so close and warm wrapped up tight together.

“Think… Think I’m gonna get my nipples pierced,” Danny giggles breathlessly before it’s cut off in a moan of sheer pleasure when Roy pinches them even harder.

“Oh really? You’ve done a lot of slutty things, baby girl, but that is definitely up there,” Roy smirks.

Danny smiles innocently, “It would only make your job easier.”

“What? This job?” Roy asks teasingly, then trails his fingers down Danny’s stomach so they ghost over the enby’s half-hard cock.

Danny gasps, and Roy takes the opportunity to press his lips against theirs all over again, sucking their tongue into his mouth as he teases their cock. They moan and whine and squirm, their fingers gripping and squeezing at the flesh of Roy’s back frantically in response. Roy knows that that’s going to leave a mark, despite the fact that their nails are usually kept short. He doesn’t mind though, in fact it makes him harder knowing that he’s the reason Danny is reacting like this.

Danny’s head falls back against the pillow, feeling heat rush to their cheeks upon seeing the smouldering look in Roy’s eyes as they stare up at him. He’s so fucking gorgeous, all his sharpness and softness in just the right places.

“Tell me what you want,” Roy whispers roughly.

Danny inhales shakily, “Want- Wanna feel you-”

“What do you want me to do to you, Danny? Use your words…”

“Fuck me, oh God please just fuck me, holy shit,” Danny begs, squeezing their eyes shut tight and squirming underneath Roy’s tight hold.

“Shh, that’s so good, thank you,” Roy murmurs, caressing Danny’s cheek, “I’m going to fuck you so hard.”

And Danny just moans. They’ve wanted this from Roy for so long, and so many years were wasted convincing themself otherwise that this really feels like a fucking dream come true. It’s their own little fairytale, just for the two of them. Danny gets to live this fantasy with Roy, and that thought alone is almost more mind blowing than the idea of getting rammed until they can’t remember their own name.

Roy leans across to riffle through the nightstand, and turns back to Danny with lube, a condom, and a devious grin on his face. Minutes later, Danny is a whimpering, begging mess just from two of Roy’s fingers stretching them open. Roy is clearly enjoying it, whispering dirty things in their ear as he slowly tortures them with his fingers. When he slides in a third finger, Danny lets out the filthiest, most inhuman sound Roy has ever heard.

“You are just so fucking needy,” Roy says lowly, pulling out his fingers and quickly rolling the condom on.

Danny nods feverently, their eager words of agreement being almost incomprehensible. Roy grabs their tiny hips in his large hands and slides himself in. That moment is almost pure magic, the connection that had been simmering for so many years finally coming to a boil. Danny sobs from the mix of emotion and sheer pleasure, throwing their head back and forth, panting and begging for more while Roy closes his eyes and takes it all in.

Danny is incredibly warm and tight around him, and after a minute he begins to thrust shallowly, making Danny’s mindless babbling slur together. His thrusts quickly become harsher, aiming specifically for Danny’s spot, his grip on them tightens and he grabs the enby’s cock and starts to lavish it with some much needed attention.

“OhGodohGodohGodoh-” Danny rambles, pressing their face into the juncture of Roy’s neck and collarbone, inhaling his comforting, familiar scent, “So good, feels so good, don’t stop please don’t stop.”

“I’m not going to stop, shh, I’ve got you, fuck you’re so good,” Roy groans in response, his thrusts speeding up and his fingers around Danny’s cock tightening, “Are you about to cum for me? Huh?”

“Yes, fuck,” Danny rasps, “Yes yes gonna cum Roy please let me cum I’m gonna- gonna-”

Roy pumps his hand a few more times and whispers right in Danny’s ear, “Cum for me like a good girl.”

And Danny is a gonner. They moan high and long, their hips twitch rapidly and their whole body shakes with the force of their orgasm, ropes of cum covering Roy’s hand and both of their abdomens.

Danny practically goes limp in Roy’s hold, and just a few thrusts later Roy is undone as well, unable to help thrusting even harder and deeper into Danny’s body as he does. He falls on top of Danny, breathing heavy and ragged, and they hold each other tight. Danny’s arms still wrapped around Roy’s back when he carefully rolls them onto their sides so that they’re facing each other, nearly nose to nose. He gingerly pulls out of Danny, ties the condom, and throws it into the bin that he knows is next to the bed.

Roy cups their chin with his clean hand and stares into their dazed, half-lidded eyes. Danny blinks slowly, the afterglow beginning to wear off.

“I can’t believe it took us seven years,” Danny murmurs, reaching up to thread their fingers through Roy’s currently long hair.

“It was worth the wait,” Roy smiles softly, “And now we have the rest of our lives.”

“Yeah,” Danny whispers, “I get the rest of my life with you.”

Because for Roy and Danny it’s nowhere near over. For them it’s all only just begun.

[christinesficrecs]

This is me being completely self-indulgent. Amy Rose wrote so many great fics and ficlets. If you don’t care for fluff you should probably skip this one but otherwise ALL of these are worth a read (re-read). 

Possibly I Like The Thrill Of Under Me You | 12.2K | Explicit

It’s not that the idea of Stiles talking about him doesn’t make his stomach wrap itself in knots, it’s that it does just that. It makes him unbelievably uncomfortable and he doesn’t quite know why. He’s twenty seven years old, he pays taxes, he takes his mother out for lunch on Sundays; he is a grown up. But he’s getting weird butterflies when he glances over his shoulder to look at Stiles and a heat in his chest that feels something like what he supposes want must feel like.

Losers | 34.2K | Explicit

The one where Derek falls for a jock, Erica will cut you if you disturb her studying, and Jackson is a closeted romantic who pretends to hate everything.

Show Me The Way Back Home Baby | 14.9K 

In which Lydia and Jackson produce the world's cutest baby, and the pack goes crazy-- the good kind of crazy. Except for Derek, who is afraid of tiny cute babies and Stiles who plans to be the best Uncle ever. Even if Danny called dibs on Godfather.

It's Always Been You, Dumbass | 11K

“Alright, cool, we should go,” Stiles says breezily, dusting off his hands as he stands.

“We should?”

“Yeah!”

“But… Do you even care about photography?”

“Not as much as I should,” Stiles plants both his hands on the table, bracketing Derek in, “You’ll have to correct my miscreant ways.”

warm shadows | 22K

“Fine,” Stiles spits back, “We’ll die together, it’ll be dandy.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Derek snaps, “I’ll get some peace and quiet for once.”

Stiles grins suddenly, blindingly. There’s blood on his teeth, and his eyes are dark and desperate as he looks up at Derek, but he’s never looked more stupidly, infuriatingly beautiful.

never found a boy (to love me like you do) | 6.6K | Mature

Stiles sits down opposite him, long fingers wrapping round the vodka bottle’s neck as he drags it towards him. “Huh.” He’s practically caressing the lid as he unscrews it and Derek shifts in his seat, looks determinedly elsewhere.

every version of me falls in love with you | 9.5K

A little girl wearing a bright pink tutu flies down the steps and towards Derek. Derek has time to remember that according to Scott, her name is Rosaline, she’s five and that she’s Derek’s daughter, before she’s leaping into his arms. He catches her easily, breathes in her scent of milk and oranges and to his pleasant surprise, Derek, and someone else, too. Someone that smells good. She smells like home to him.

table thirteen | 8.1K

Where stiles has a series of disastrous first dates at the hale family restaurant, and derek pretends he's not wishing he was the one sitting opposite stiles, rather than serving him.

Game On | 6.3K

Derek first sees him from across the quad four days into fall semester. He’s sitting on one of the long benches, a marker pen in his mouth, grinning at something the kid lounging on the bench beside him is saying. When he laughs properly he pulls the pen out and throws his head back, his neck a long, lean line Derek is entranced by. He flicks the page in his book and highlights something, tossing the cap up in the air and catching it with his teeth.

5 ways cosmo can help you win your man | 5.7K

Where derek never had to work to get a date, he always had someone pursue him or ask him out. but when derek sees stiles, he waits and thinks stiles will stroll up and ask him out. everyone of his past relationships started that way, until stiles doesn’t. and derek is left with the horrifying possibility that he will have to make the first move and dare he think of it, flirt? and attempt small talk. and it turns out, he’s really bad at it. maybe he even tries cosmo tips and calls his sisters, both of whom are like 100% trolling him

awful, wonderful you | 16.9K | Mature

Truth be told, Derek was suffering from the mild delusion he lived in all summer wherein he actually thought this year might be different, and he might, perhaps, be able to bury the hatchet with Stiles and start over.

The superglue that’s destroyed a ninety dollar pair of pants, however, says otherwise. Derek knows how this play goes down; eventually, he’s going to have to climb out of the pants and trudge back to his dorm half naked. Stiles will gloat for a damn week; Derek will have to put up with constant remarks about Stiles getting him out of his pants... Dammit, he’s actually going to get Derek out of his pants, and it’s not even close to the way he pictured it happening.

big light | 4.7K

Stiles brandishes a bunch of daisies at Derek, “Saw these and thought of you.”

Derek looks down at the gas station flowers, lifts his eyebrows, “Because they’re dried out and a little wilted?”

Come Fly With Me (Or Don't) | 15.3K | Mature

Stiles is overworked and stressed out when his flight home gets delayed due to copious amounts of snow. He finds entertainment with one Derek Hale, whom he hasn't seen since high school but really doesn't mind getting reacquainted with.

Especially when it turns out Derek is surprisingly hilarious and will reluctantly play snap with him. And can walk on his hands.

i have always been the storm | 25.2K | Explicit

“I haven’t done weather since college,” Derek protests.

Boyd snorts again, presumably because he’s thinking back to the time when Derek and the weather last collided and he…. well, did the guy into the weather for a brief, wonderful, terribly foolish time. But, Boyd needs to shut up before Derek punches him on the nose.

But, Doctor! | 30.2K | Mature

“We had to splint a girl’s leg in a ditch,” Scott says excitedly.

“Bro, you sound way too happy about that,” Stiles complains, opening up his bag and pulling out a Twinkie.

Derek removes it from his hand silently and replaces it with an apple. Stiles scowls at him for a second then bites into it, regardless. Derek sits back and lets the group discuss the merits of dramatic lifesaving feats for winning over the ladies. Scott is convinced it’ll help impress Allison; Isaac thinks Scott’s a loser. Stiles—

Stiles is falling asleep on Derek’s shoulder.

[overdramatic-queer-antagonist]

And They Knew

I felt very bad about this fic so, as retribution I wrote a fic twice it’s size that is pure fluff.

"Tim, I want you to know I'm never going anywhere with you again," Jon said, drying his sopping wet hair off. Of course, everyone and their mothers knew that the threat was an empty one. So Tim hardly blinked. "Whatever you say, boss," He said with a smile as he slung his arm around Sasha. "Oh, come on, Tim! I'm the only one who wasn't thrown overboard!" Sasha complained as she tried to escape his grasp. "Exactly! It's really not fair to the rest of us if only one of us is dry, now is it?" "Well, maybe if you weren't so keen on jumping out of kayaks, you wouldn't be wet." "Oh, so it's my fault that my girlfriend is so perfect I couldn't resist giving her affectio- Hey!" At some point, Martin had come up behind the pair with a bucket of water and had, graciously, poured the entire bucket on Tim's head. "You know the rules," Martin said, "no being a simp. You agreed to it, Tim." Affronted, Tim argued, "It's not my fault, I'm in love with a goddess!" Or at least that's what it sounded like he said. The moment he said the word, "love" Martin had placed the, now empty, bucket on his head. Getting a muffled laugh from the now thoroughly bucketed man. Jon had dried his hair as much as he could and was now reading. He looked up and nodded towards Tim, "If you're done being gross-" an offended gasp from the bucket went wholely ignored- "Should we check out that restaurant we saw on the way here?" Sasha shrugged, "I could eat." Jon, Sasha, and Martin walked through the beach to the parking lot wordlessly. This decision was made through ridiculous hand gestures and pointed looks and was entirely to mess with Tim. Who, even as they left the beach, was Still. Wearing. A. Bucket. On. His. Head. This wasn't much of a problem until he got into the driver's seat, still refusing to take the bucket off. "Tim, why are you driving with a bucket on your head?" Sasha asked. "Spite," Tim said, tilting his bucket to make a pointed gesture at Martin. Martin groaned, "Okay, fine! You can take it off-" "Fuck Yeah," A freed Tim exclaimed. "-If you promise not to simp." "Slightly less fuck yeah." His freedom from the bucket is all well and good, but why not just have someone else drive?" Jon asked. "Oh, you sweet summer child," Tim said, clasping a hand to his heart, "Well, since you asked so nicely. Sasha was asleep on the way here and has no idea what we're talking about. I can tell by looking at you that you drive like my Grandpa, and gay people can't drive," Tim finished out the list by gesturing to Martin, who nodded solemnly, "It's true. I'm gay, can confirm." "I drive at a perfectly fine speed, thank you very much," Jon responded. Tim was gesturing wildly at Sasha, shocked that his and Martin's joke went unmentioned. Jon paused to look at the horrified Tim and asked, "What's with that look?" Tim recovered and grinned, "Sorry boss, we're just in shock that you would tell such a bold lie to our faces," he said in a tone that could almost be mistaken as hurt, if not for the snicker at the end. Sasha made a noise of disagreement, "I don't know, Tim. Maybe he speeds like a mad man. All that pent up stress. It's better than when he took it out on Martin."   Jon stared at the ground and nodded, "I am really sorry about that, Martin." Martin gave him a soft smile. "I know you are," he whispered. "Are you two lovebirds gonna get in the car, or do I have to grab the bucket?" Tim yelled from the driver's seat. Honking the car's horn as he did. Jon rolled his eyes but acquiesced. *** The drive didn't take long in the sense of nothing ever takes long on vacation. The twenty-minutes it took was dulled into peacefulness by the knowledge that they were in no rush. Sasha and Tim were arguing about the music, and somehow Jon had suggested they listen to a band he used to be in as a compromise. The car was silent as the first song faded out. Then it exploded into excitement. "Oh, my God! Jon!" Sasha exclaimed, twisting around from the front seat to face him. "That was amazing!" "Hell yeah, it was!" Tim agreed, "Man, boss. Didn't know you could sing!" Jon, for his part, folded in on himself, half preening, half mortified. Martin was grinning at him in silent awe, and that was Not making it any better. Jon bet the others could practically feel the heat radiating off his face as Tim drove them into the parking lot. "Man, we are learning so much about each other today," Tim marveled as he parked. "We should go kayaking more often." Martin looked at him in confusion as he stepped out of the car, "We already knew you were a simp, Tim." "I meant you coming out to Jon but, okay, be like that," Tim scoffed without any actual bite, following Martin onto the asphalt. Jon looked at Tim like he'd grown an extra head as he caught up with the pair, "Martin and I have been dating for six months." Tim looked disbelievingly between the (apparently) couple. "No way! No fucking way! How? Why?" He asked. Sasha patted him lovingly on the back, "I think he's having an aneurysm." "Did you know?" He asked. Sasha shook her head and shrugged, "No. I just don't really care. All this really means is Martin'll get the Simp Bucket too." Martin shook his head at Sasha."Check your preconceptions. Last week, Jon wrote me a love song." Tim doubled over in shock and pointed an accusing finger at Jon, "Who are you, and what have you done with my friend?" he yelled. "No, really! He's quite romantic!" Martin laughed. "And you're sure he hasn't been replaced by some shapeshifter who fucked with all our memories?" "Shapeshifters don't exist, Tim," Sasha said as she placed the Simp Bucket on Jon's head with a decisive thunk. "Even if they did, why would they need to fuck with people's memories? They could just act like their victim," Jon said from the Simp Bucket. "Ahaha!" Tim yelled, getting very into the joke despite having stepped into the restaurant. "They'd keep the memories of one person to psychologically torcher them!" "Wait. Why would a shapeshifter need to gaslight someone?" Martin asked as Sasha went and got them a table. "Because they feed off of fear!" Jon looked at Tim, amused as he removed the bucket from his head. "Okay. I'm not a shapeshifter. I just got therapy. But you should write a book." "Thank you! At least someone appreciates my vision. Even if it is NotJon." *** After a meal that was not as good as they wanted it to be but still alright, the quartet made the decision to head back to their hotel (also pretty not great.) The sun was setting, and everyone else had figured that they were done for the day, everyone except Tim, that is. When Tim and his brother, Danny, were little, their parents used to take them out here, and on the last day, they'd always sleep under the stars. This was their last night, and Tim wasn't about to let that tradition die. He ignored Sasha's confused looks as he packed a hell of a lot of blankets, some flashlights, and booze. "What's up?" She asked. Tim beamed at her and said, "Come with me." as he grabbed her hand and pulled her out of their hotel room. A few seconds later, and Tim was knocking on the door of Martin and Jon's room (Suddenly making a lot more sense why they got a couple's. Wow, they weren't even trying to hide it.) Jon opened the door, blearily, as if he had been sleeping, and gave him a questioning look. "No time to explain, boss man! Just get all the blankets you've got and meet me by my truck," Tim said, excitedly turning around before he was even finished. From behind him, he heard Jon ask, "Why would we have brought our own blankets?" Followed by Martin saying, "I've got a few!" and after a pause that Tim could only imagine being filled by Jon looking at Martin confused, Martin added, "What? Bed bugs." Tim felt like a kid again as he waited in the driver's seat, tapping at the steering wheel, giddily. Sasha kept asking him what they were doing, but Tim wanted it to be a surprise, so he just promised her she'd love it. Eventually, he heard the doors to the backseat close and, after looking back to wave, Tim drove off out of the parking lot. For the car ride, Tim was mostly silent. He didn't want to ruin the surprise, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. Martin and Jon were asked him questions, which Sasha answered for him. After what felt like ages to the excited Tim, they made it to the clearing. It was the exact same clearing his family had used because if he was going to be sappy, he was going all the way. "O-kay. We're in the woods now," Martin said as the truck slowed to a stop. "Why are we in the woods, Tim?" Tim whipped around excitedly, "We're going to sleep here!" There was a pause for a second before Martin replied," You get that that's the kind of thing a serial killer would say before killing us, right?" Tim shrugged and made his out. "I meant like, in the truck bed. That's why we brought all those blankets. My family used to do it when I was a kid." "I don't really think you can fit four people in a truck bed," Jon said. "Then I guess we'll just have to cuddle!" Tim laughed as Jon groaned behind him. They did end up cuddling. They didn't actually need to, but you cuddle your homies, Steven. Through the silence and the stars, Martin had asked, "Tim? How did you find this place?" Tim stiffened and looked away from the others, towards the sky, "Danny found it. When he was ten, he never could stay still." "Danny?" Tim heard Jon's voice say. "Didn't he die." Tim heard a smack and Jon saying ow, and he laughed. "No need for violence. Yeah, he- he did" Tim's composure was quickly wavering, but he felt Sasha's hand on his, so he squeezed it tight and continued. "He was big into urban exploration. One day he went into some tunnel place alone, and he never came out." Tim felt a head lean against his. Not Sasha's. She was on his other side, still holding his hand. Jon bumped his forehead against Tim's cheek and said quietly, "Sorry for asking." But it was fine. They both knew it was good to talk. They sat in silence for the rest of the night. It wasn't oppressive like they had all dealt with far too many times. It was quiet because there didn't have to be noise. They had tomorrow to be loud. Tomorrow was for Jon and Sasha debating the pronunciation of words. For Tim making the same joke until it wasn't funny anymore. For Martin to defend spiders like they were people. For the chaos, they would create to make their boring-ass office job bearable. They didn't Know what tomorrow would bring. Hell, they didn't even know it. But they knew that they could get through it. Like they'd gotten through shitty jobs, and missing brothers, and oppressive silence. The stars didn't know they weren't alone. There was too much space between them to see it. Sometimes people are like that, as well. Too caught up in their worries that they can't see just how loved they are. But you are not ever alone. And in that truck bed, in the dark, the four knew. And they knew what a gift that knowledge was.

[silver-rings-and-rabbits]

Open Heart: Second Year

I don’t think I’m saying anything that hasn’t already been said before but this is bugging me like crazy. I don’t use Tumblr very often but I don’t know anyone else who plays Choices, so here I am (I guess spoiler alert for those who haven’t played Open Heart).

Open Heart book 1 is one of my favourite books, possibly even my most favourite. I genuinely couldn’t decide between Bryce, Raf and Ethan. I switch between the male and female MC and I’ve been able to give them different personalities. The book had strong writing and a coherent plot with probably three main storylines: Patient X, Panacea Labs, and Mrs Martinez, which all tied together beautifully at the end. Even all our patients came back in the last chapter.

And then Open Heart: Second Year. Where to start.

Obviously Ethan is our boss, mentor and colleague so he will have a vital role in the story, but why push the other LIs aside? Why can’t Bryce romancers steal a few minutes in the hospital corridors where Bryce gives you a flirty wink and a pat on the butt? Why can’t Jackie romancers sneak into her room every so often?

And let’s get started on Rafael. First of all....what the fuck?

I love a little bit of angst so I wasn’t initially too mad when Sora was introduced (actually I think it made me want Rafael more, because apparently I only like men I can’t have...and I’ve gone off Ethan because he would be too easy). But there was none. Sora appeared in chapter 2, where it’s described as ‘stings a little to watch’, but doesn’t appear again until the baseball game in chapter 8 where they cheer for Edenbrook a couple of times. The only kind of ‘angst’ Rafael romancers got was dancing with Raf at the music festival where Sora is briefly mentioned and MC closes their eyes and listens to Raf’s heartbeat (which was a sweet moment, to be fair). Are you seriously telling me that none of their friends acknowledged that he and MC used to date? That they wouldn’t have asked if MC was OK at least once? That they would have invited Rafael over to the apartment without giving MC a heads up? And when PB was asked about this they gave some crap about making things realistic and exploring the mature themes of a medical drama. If Open Heart were realistic, MC would have been fired halfway through book 1 (one of the dialogue options with Ethan in book 1 chapter 6 actually leads him to say ‘consider yourself lucky you’re even getting a next time’) but NO, we get ‘realism’ by losing a beloved love interest and character that people have grown invested in and spent money on, and then completely waste the opportunity for drama.

And then there’s chapter 10.

And going back to realism, they couldn’t think of anything else apart from vengeance and terrorism? Not, I don’t know, just a highly infectious patient which is probably more likely to happen within a hospital?

I do think that chapter 11 is one of the strongest chapters of Second Year, and the book has got stronger since then. But knowing that it might have ended with the death of Rafael leaves a VERY bitter taste. I’m very glad they rewrote it...but what on earth was the thought process behind that?!? Going back to realism again, if they wanted drama and emotions, why not have Kyra die of surgical complications? At least we’d have been somewhat prepared for that as she was introduced as being a cancer patient, and there would have been more angst (especially for Bryce romancers) as he would have had the guilt of not being able to save her when he promised MC he would, even if it was out of his hands. But sure, have Rafael caught in an assassination attempt, that makes sense. And it still doesn’t really excuse Sora, I mean, imagine the pain if he was still an LI and he and MC were saying their last goodbyes in that room??

I was happy with the rewrite to chapter 11 and the kiss between Raf and MC in chapter 12 was beautiful. And PB have actually made something of an effort to include Raf in the rest of the story; I was half-expecting to not see him again until the obligatory 30-diamond scene in the last chapter.

Chapter 12 was so emotional and it was so clear that each character and LI was struggling with the events. And the end of chapter 12 and the beginning of chapter 13 made it very clear that MC was terrified of returning to work. MC has butterflies in their stomach as they walk in to Edenbrook and then...nothing. That was that. As if they just needed to face their fear and they’d be alright again. Now I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure PTSD isn’t as simple as that? It would go far deeper than ‘Oh, I’m alright, just taking it one day at a time’. And the narration specified that MC was uncomfortable at the idea of going back into the diagnostics room where the attack happened, but chapter 14 we’re back in there without batting an eyelid.

Someone (I don’t know who...if you’re reading this let me know!!) pointed out that Danny and Bobby could have been mentioned at the gala...there could have been some kind of ‘in memory’ and donors could have been guilt tripped by MC. But no, not a peep. I keep thinking that we could have had Baz, Zaid and Inez (I miss her) catching up with MC and asking how they’re doing and how worried they were. If you’re going to the gala with Raf there could have been a highly emotional scene between them about what happened in the room. Raf alludes to it in a line of dialogue but there was potential for so much more.

And how about the fact that a group of doctors cured the incurable OVERNIGHT and it worked without proper testing? NO ONE has mentioned that since! Surely there would be papers being published and deeper research being conducted now that lives aren’t on the line? We had a whole chapter about how a research grant would save the hospital but now...nothing?! Ed Farrugia hasn’t been mentioned since chapter 12. No one in the team is talking about how it was June’s idea to convince him to switch to Edenbrook. Surely that would be a huge elephant in the room? Wouldn’t she at least say something like ‘I never wanted this to happen, we went too far’? Something?!

The fact that there has been no follow-up to the attack suggests to me that it was purely for shock value. They just wanted drama and didn’t care about keeping it grounded. And assuming that Rafael died in the original, that’s more upsetting. I can’t believe that he was the least profitable character in the history of Choices ever. And even if he was, was it because no one bought his diamond scenes, or because he didn’t have diamond scenes to buy? I romanced Bryce in my first playthrough, but I remember choosing to assist on his surgery without even thinking about it, I didn’t even look at the diamonds it would cost. So a beloved character would have been killed, and it would have brought nothing to the story.

Furthermore, Sora would never have been explained. Rafael almost explained in chapters 2 and 12 but both times MC cut them off. If Rafael was originally going to die in chapter 11, Rafael romancers would never have got that explanation, unless they were to hear it from Sora themselves afterwards (doubtful). And it’s highly unlikely it actually will be explained. PB will probably say ‘it’s up to you what happened!’ like they’re doing us a favour by creating our own headcanon, but to me that’s just lazy writing; they wanted to write off Rafael and they didn’t care how they did it.

If Second Year hadn’t opened with a funeral scene we might never have been clued into what was going to happen and demanded a rewrite.

Aside from that, there’s Esme. She’s introduced as breaking Dr Thorne’s hand and then has to diagnose and treat him in chapter 10. Depending on your choices, he gets surgery and thanks Esme for saving his life and apologises for the bar incident. Otherwise she doesn’t run further tests and he messes up a surgery which eventually forces him to resign. And then Esme gets her plotline with Levi. If Dr Thorne wasn’t her main plotline, what was the point in introducing him? It’s another storyline that had huge potential--sexual harassment in the workplace, for example--but had little to no payoff and fell off the radar. If PB wanted to introduce MC and Esme the night before they both started working then MC could have just literally walked into Esme and either apologised, asked if she was OK, or told her to watch where she was going, and that would have affected how she greeted you in the hospital the next day. But no, we get this storyline hinted at which is then written off and replaced. Maybe it was a rewrite, I just don’t see why it would have been.

Like I said before, the main storylines of book 1 all tied together in the end, but the storylines we’ve had in book 2 have just felt like completely separate events, just a bunch of stuff that happens and is quickly forgotten. I think the balance of the LIs has been better since chapter 11; even when the gang went to Vegas, Raf romancers got a quick phone call with him. As a Raf romancer, I appreciated that, and it only goes to show how PB could accommodate for all LIs whilst having Ethan integral as our boss (see before, bonus scenes for Jackie romancers sneaking into each others rooms, bonus scenes for Bryce romancers having flirty interactions in the corridors). 

There is such a difference in dialogue if you’re playing Ethan’s romance route or not. I had him stay behind in chapter 11 and I thought it came across as a sweet conversation between a mentor and his protégée. But the other LIs don’t have anything close to that level of detail. Ethan romancers get pretty close to being official in chapter 17 but I’ve heard Jackie and Bryce didn’t get that. And Raf romancers didn’t even get caught sneaking back into the gala. I’m still holding out hope that book 2 will end with all LIs saying ‘I love you’ and being official with MC, but the inequality makes me sad.

I might have had some more to say, but this post has been longer than I intended and I don’t remember what that might have been. I really wanted to like Open Heart: Second Year. Book 1 will always be a favourite, but book 2? It’s like going from the classic era of The Simpsons where Homer was a lazy dumbass but genuinely loved his family, to the modern era of The Simpsons where nothing makes sense and Homer is a straight-up jerk. I just hope that, if we get book 3, they would have learned from their mistakes and Open Heart can be saved. It doesn’t deserve this.

Well, that’s my two cents. Sorry for the long post. If you got this far, thanks for reading.

[twoidiotwriters1]

1994-1995 (WITT One-Shot)

A/N: I’m sorry, I give you this short Merry scene from Harry’s POV to hold onto and ask you to be patient and to not lose hope! -Danny

Words: 1,632

Series’ Masterlist

To be clear, Mel had no idea as to why Harry was such a fan of physical contact lately. 

Harry didn't know why he was acting like this either, but he didn't want to stop. He didn't know why his first reaction was to be constantly touching her, but he did know why was he doing it. Harry was gone over Mel.

The exact date he realized something weird was going on was before the start of his second year. It was his birthday and for the first time in years, he'd been forced to spend it by himself. Mel had gone to the burrow and he was still waiting for his invitation.

The funny part was that the thing that was upsetting him wasn't that he was alone, he could deal with that, his birthdays hadn't been something he would actively look forward to, but he was upset about the fact that Mel was having fun with other people. It sounded selfish, yes, but it also sounded completely true for his twelve-year-old self. Mel was having fun, and she probably didn't miss him.

Then she arrived in the Ford Anglia with the rest of the Weasleys, and they wasted no time in telling Harry that she'd been the one who'd been nagging about checking and going to his rescue. The joy Harry felt when he found out Mel hadn't actually forgotten about him... that's when he knew something was up.

Now, Harry had always liked her a normal amount. She was his best friend, and he had the strange feeling she could read his thoughts as much as he could read hers. It was special, he didn't know what it was, but Harry was thankful that he could have her.

Then during their third-year things started to really get out of control. He was barely able to keep his mouth shut about Mel, and not only Ron, but Hermione was starting to notice too. Luckily for him, they never said a word to their friend, who seemed oblivious to it all.

Then fourth-year arrived, and Mel had grown. Not a lot when it came to height, but she was definitely different. It was the first time in a long time that her hair was reaching further down her shoulders, and she was still the same clumsy, impulsive girl from years back, but there was a different form to the way she would act around others. Even around him.

By the time the Yule Ball arrived Harry had long ago accepted he had a crush, but he was bitter about it. Of course he fancied her, Mel was the prettiest girl in the whole school! And of course, he wasn't the only one who could tell, he would listen to older boys talking about her, or even Dean and Seamus whenever they thought Harry wasn't paying attention. It would make the monster in his stomach jump around and wish it could shut their mouths permanently.

And so this is why now, a few days after the Yule Ball, Harry finds himself making up excuses to hold her close. Thankfully Mel doesn't mind, she's always been okay with physical contact, as children she used to be the one to hug him all the time, she'd stopped doing that this year, and he was wondering if it was because of something he'd said.

Mel was sitting in front of the fireplace, snuggled up with Grey beside her, she was playing with the cat, a soft smile brightening her entire face. Harry approached and sat beside her, he yawned and stretched. With his heart pounding against his ribcage he tried his best to look casual as he shifted and placed his head on her lap. Mel stopped all her movements.

"...Hi?" She replied, her voice trembling with nervous laughter.

"Hi," He tilted his head and looked up to her. "How's your day going?"

"Uneventful," She sighed, her attention now completely on him. "Are you tired?" Mel grinned.

"Exhausted," Harry smiled. "Mind if I take a nap?"

"Oh no, I'd hate to disrupt the champion's peace," Mel joked. "Please do use me as a pillow, not that I mind or anything."

"That's very kind of you."

"But just so you know, if my legs start to go numb I'll throw you out of the couch."

Harry frowned.

"You wouldn't."

"I guess we have to wait and see," Mel smiled softly at him, and before he could reply, her hand ran through his hair in such a gentle form that Harry had a wave of goosebumps running all the way down his spine.

He squirmed a bit and blushed, hoping she hadn't noticed his reaction.

"You know," She continued, "I was reading the other day about magical inventions of the twentieth century, because of Erick's grandfather and all... but I ended up discovering something you might like to hear."

"What thing?"

"Did you know your money comes from your grandfather because he invented a hair potion?"

"What?" Harry laughed. "How d'you know that?"

"It was in this book I borrowed from the library months ago," She grinned. "I completely forgot to tell you about it until now, because the tournament took all my attention..."

"A hair potion? Really? What for?"

"Oh, you'll love this," She smirked. "It was a potion to 'tame even the most bothersome types of hair'– I reckon you could use a bit of that, don't you think? Maybe they'll make you a discount, given that your Fleamont's grandson?"

"Fleamont?" Harry asked in shock. "That was his name?"

"Yeah, and his wife's name was Euphemia," Mel nodded, still playing with his hair. "Fancy names, they do sound like rich people."

Harry sat up again and beamed at Mel, it was one of those moments when he simply couldn't help himself. She was too good for him.

"Thank you for telling me that," He replied.

"It's not a big deal, Glasses," The girl snorted. "I mean, you would've found out eventually..."

"Yeah, but it feels good when I hear it from someone close instead of a stranger," He reached out to hold her hand. "So thank you."

Mel blushed, Harry discovered days before that he loved getting that reaction from her. He'd constantly try to make her blush, he thought that since she had the power to make an idiot out of him without trying, he was allowed to make her flustered from time to time.

The twins entered the common room and Mel jumped a bit, breaking contact with Harry. The boy suppressed a scoff and waved at the twins without much enthusiasm. He didn't know how Mel felt about the twins, but the twins certainly enjoyed flirting with her at all times, and the way she would try to keep her distance when they were around told him there was a chance that she was interested in them.

But Harry wasn't planning on making things easier.

He bid his time, they went to have dinner with their friends and once back in the common room he convinced her to stay and talked for a bit longer. At this point, Ron and Hermione could pick up on Harry's actions and know when they were supposed to leave them alone. Not that Harry was discrete anyway. Really, it was a miracle how Mel had no clue of what was going on.

"I know you found the information about my Grandad on accident, but have you tried to find things about your grandparents?"

Mel tensed at the mention, but almost immediately she smiled.

"Oh well, there's not much to read. They weren't especially wealthy– they weren't wealthy at all, my uncle was the first to start getting large amounts of money, but money's not important... Oh! I did ask my uncle about my great-grandmother and it turns out she was muggle-born! I don't know why, but I find that really exciting."

"So you're halfblood, like me," He smiled. "More things to have in common, then."

"Like we need more," She grinned. "My grandad's still alive, though I've never met him, and I don't think he wants to meet me... I don't know, I asked my uncle, he says that it's hard on him because he lost his wife and his son, but others tell me he never really loved my dad so... so maybe Dumbledore is telling me that so I don't feel bad about him not wanting to meet me."

Harry's stomach churned in annoyance. How could anyone not want to meet her? How could anyone prefer to keep their distance?

"Well, if that's true he's an idiot," He blurted out. His face turned red when he realized what he'd said. "I–I mean–"

Mel laughed, patting his hand softly.

"I... I also think he's a bit of an idiot."

Mel yawned, pushing a loose strand of hair away and rubbing her eyes. Harry's heart went crazy at the sight, she had to stop doing this, it was unfair and slowly killing him.

"I think we should go to bed," He admitted after a moment.

"Yeah, reckon so..." She replied.

They got up at the same time, and in a wild burst of courage, he reached for her and placed a kiss on her cheek. Mel froze, staring at him with a dumbfounded expression.

"Goodnight, Mellow," He let out hurriedly, if he were to stay and stare at her any longer he would end up kissing her for real in front of everyone.

He heard Fred and George along with Lee whistling and teasing them from a corner of the room, Harry lowered his head and walked away, unable to hide the wide grin on his face.

He didn't know how, but he'd end up dating Mel one day, and that was a promise.

One day.

Taglist.

@dee123ksha​ @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere​ @t-rexs-world

[sophfandoms53]

History Repeats Itself AU One Year Anniversary

I can’t believe that it’s been an entire year since I’ve created this AU! Seriously, I feel like it was a few months ago. But nope. A whole year. It’s crazy how much has changed from then to today. I hope you are all staying safe and inside!

This AU has grown in a massive way that I could have never predicted. I never intended on creating a whole book to follow the AU but y’all wanted more and I realized how much I could explore with this AU and I’m so thankful for all the love and support, seriously it means the world to me. This AU helped me get back on my feet when things were extremely dark and bleak, so I really appreciate it.

Okay enough sappy stuff lmao, lets get to the purpose of this post.

To celebrate my AU’s one year anniversary I wanted to do something a little different compared to my other two big posts. Instead of writing mini fics about the events, I’d just show you guys what’s coming up and explain it without revealing too much. Mainly this will be about certain character’s plot points and their arcs. Just wanna have some fun with a dash of feels inbetween.

So let’s begin!

So obviously this is the start of Troy and Skye’s investigation. They stumble upon this hidden room in the archives, similar to Della’s, and the entire room is in dedication to Dewey Duck. An idea that manifested between Huey, Shelly and Louie and it became a reality.

For Troy, this starts as a gold mine. All the stories about his families adventures, a lot of those artifacts, are in this room. Most of his attention is on all the artifacts as he comes to realize how much his parents hid from him. They had this entire room and no one ever told him about despite him constantly visiting The Archives. Although at first he doesn’t initially realize this room is about his Uncle Dewey, he see’s that when he looks over at Skye.

The first thing Skye saw upon walking in was the portrait of her father, and that’s where she remained fixated for a while. Even after Troy walks over, he too becomes distracted by it. This is the first time Skye has seen her father outside of the family photo Webby showed her and her brothers when they were young. Her emotions are all over the place. Her initial impression of her dad was not him being an adventurous person. So seeing this portrait, and the painting from the other day, it solidified her father was definitely not what she thought.

Seeing all this, Skye immediately wanted her brothers to know. She knew they were just as curious as she was, well maybe Danny a little more than Chase. But regardless, that was the plan.... until.

The note.

Louie,

I need to use The Curse Of The Sirens. I know this is late notice. I hope to explain soon. I’m sorry.

- Dewey

Once this was read. Any plan or idea they had, went out the window. They had more questions than answers and Skye became even more confused about who her father was. When Troy suggested that Dewey betrayed the family and used the curse to do so, the two came to an agreement to keep everything hushed until they found out the truth.

They just weren’t prepared for how complicated and messy the truth was.

Oh Lena. Lena, Lena, Lena, I’m so sorry.

Lena is still definitely a mess in this AU. 11 years of corruption when you thought you left your past behind? Yeah that does stuff to ya. However, during the first 5 years of everything happening, she was able to fight back and remain in control during the day time, she was able to be a proper mother and teach Aurora how to control her magic, but at night? The darkness took over. Similar to how Magica’s powers were connected to the Lunar Eclipse (this comes into play later too). After year 5, Lena had no choice but to banish herself away to protect her daughter and everyone else. Unfortunately this left her bound to Aurora as a shadow and the darkness causes Lena to manipulate her.

Once set free from the Shadow Realm, Lena imprisons both Aurora and Louie (not realizing this would allow them to talk and figure out their relation) and takes over the bin, in a similar manor like Magica. Although, Lena transforms a section the money bin into her own little place, creating her throne. She sent shadows and darkness rapid around Duckburg and enjoyed every second of it.

This does come back to be a huge regret when Lena is reformed and the darkness is sealed away in the Shadow Realm, along with Aurora who made the sacrifice to give her mother another shot at life. Due them both being shadow’s (in Aurora’s case half shadow) Lena is still able to keep contact with her in her shadow form, and the two work together on how to free her, while repairing their broken relationship slowly, but steadily.

Yup, Magica’s still around. Her number one target? Sweet little Aurora.

Lena’s not the only one keeping contact with her daughter in the Shadow Realm, Magica is too. Magica see’s how vulnerable and confused Aurora is and she wants to feed on that.

She wants to lure Aurora in and make her feel like she can help, teach everything there is to know about magic. Any question she had, Magica would answer. Aurora would be the key to gaining back all her magic abilities, which she slowly gained feeding off of Lena in order to corrupt her.

Due to Aurora being half duck/half shadow, it would grant Magica more power than ever before. She’d have the ability to manipulate more than dreams and shadows, she could manipulate things in the real world. All she needs is a new puppet.

After all, they’re family, right?

I kinda showed this moment already, but I wanted to bring it up again to clarify something. (And an excuse to draw Danny with his hair zoosh so y’all can see them side by side lmao)

Danny is not the kid Dewey is going to have the most trouble building a relationship with. This little moment is meant to emphasize, for Danny, that Dewey knows who he is, uses his proper birth name, Daniel, and he accepts his father with open arms.

All Danny wanted was for his father to know his name and show that Dewey was trying to connect with him. That little moment was enough for Danny to want to create a proper bond with his dad, and they do just that.

Dewey quickly bonds with both Skye and Danny once he comes home. Which makes sense as Skye dedicated most of her life to finding out the truth about her dad and was the first to accept his offer to be a proper father and Danny is a happy-go-with-the-flow 8 year old kid, he’s game for anything.

Notice how I missed someone? Well....

Look familiar?

Currently a WIP as I’m figuring out the background, but yes this is that infamous scene between Della and Louie.

Unlike his brother and sister, Chase struggles to find any common ground with Dewey. On his first day home, Chase admits to feeling completely disconnected from him due to Dewey and everyone else mentioning specific aspects of his father that Skye and Danny inhabit. He feels lost in the middle as most of Dewey’s time is spent with either Skye or Danny, while he just watches.

Chase believes his father is unaware of his heart condition (which comes into play during their fight) as Dewey never brought it up upon meeting. Chase is so use to his mom and doctors taking care of him that he struggles having his father around, a lot.

Attention is something Chase wants, but he never knows how to go about it because he doesn’t wanna seem weak or have it come back to his heart condition, sometimes he just wants someone to spend time with him and not bring that up.

This cultivates into Chase internalizing his frustration for his father’s attention that he does something drastic and it all goes south and falls apart in the matter of minutes. He got his father’s attention, but not in the way he wanted.

The reason this conflict is with Chase rather than Danny is, Chase is the middle child, just the same as Dewey. It felt fitting that Dewey would clash with the kid who inhabited his middle child syndrome and thirst for attention.

Similar to Della and Louie, Dewey calls Chase out for going completely overboard just because he wanted some attention when Chase could’ve just vocalized his frustration instead of thinking he had control over the whole situation and that he hadn’t thought through every variable or how it would affect the entire family. This, of course, provokes Chase to say,

“Oh? And who does that sound like?”

-

And that’s all for now! Again, thank you all for the support of the AU, it’s absolutely insane how far we have come and I cannot wait to share more with you guys. You all mean the world to me.

Happy One Year History Repeats Itself!!!

[og-danny-dorito]

『 Man In Red 』

{   A/N:

    This is that Jason x Reader thing I said I was going to write. I changed my mind about the reading thing because my stuttering got annoying and I doubt anyone wants to hear that. Anyway, thanks for reading cause I know no one likes the author’s not part, and you can reblog if you want (I don't care).

         - Danny ✌️👽 }

<|--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------|>

   From the small balcony from your apartment, you could see the rain dropping to your feet where the balcony’s overhead cover ended in front of you. The smoke rose from the cigarette between your lips, your nose flaring only occasionally to let out the smoke that flooded your lungs like poison into the open air before you. Poison...why was that word so familiar? Why did you feel the word’s meaning as you thought it and felt it as you spoke it out loud? Was there a meaning at all?

  You cursed yourself for missing him, but what were you going to do, not want him? You cursed yourself for hating when he was gone, even when you yourself told him not to get attached.

It had been three months since you met Jason Todd, the vigilante known as Red Hood.

  The first time you met was an odd one, mainly because he dropped down onto your balcony with his back leaning against the wall and his eyes screwed shut tightly like it was normal to do that right outside of a random person’s apartment balcony door. It didn't take you long to realize that he was clutching his side because he was bleeding out, and in those few moments of staring down at him in your pajamas at 1:03 in the morning you mad a decision to help him. Or phrased more correctly; technically act as a safe house for him whenever he was in trouble and you were nearby.

  You could count on your fingers how many times he'd shown up to your house injured or needing somewhere to stay. At least that's what he said. He never took of his mask around you, and so you were fairly certain he didn't trust you enough to do it yet, or...wouldn't at all. It had been concluded (non verbally, mind you, and probably mutually?) a long time ago that you weren't just used for tactical use but also...for company. Someone to talk to.

  You had to admit that he wasn't very hospitable at first. Maybe your thirst for friends waved some red flags for him in the beginning, but you eventually eased him into it. As a resolve, you started off slow. 

  When asked if he wanted to stay, he'd hesitate, making sure to get a little comfortable and asking to hear about something in your life to fill the silence. When asked how his day had been, he seemed a little awkward at first in his responses as if he wasn't used to reporting in a way that was a sort of ‘i care’ type. That red mask couldn't hide what was underneath forever, you know? He told you his name was Jason after three weeks of consistent asking if you could call him something other than some comic book esque alias. Jason, was his name. Jason Todd.

  You'd sit out here for the past few months now, waiting with your cigarette between your lips and/or fingers, listening to the cars pass by below and watching the onlooking city of Gotham you'd grown so accustomed to. It hadn't changed since you left. At least not by much. Still full of crime, grime and bright lights. But it seemed a little...different. Maybe it was the change in jobs, or change in setting since when you lived here as a kid. You weren't sure, but you were sure of one thing; you had it bad for the man in red.

"You know, I've died once before. It's not fun. Those things just speed up the process."

  Speak of the devil and he shall appear, the man in red hears his name and- poof!- he's here. You made no move to turn your head as you heard the familiar thunk of weight carried in combat boots against the metal ground, shaking a glass and plate nearby that you had eaten off of and never bothered to bring inside again. He stood still for a moment, looking over your figure. He was wet from the rain, you could feel him shaking it off his coat as he stood there. Your muscles pulled taught at the corners of your eyes, he could hear it in your voice.

   "Can't be that bad if I've got a dead man telling me what to do, huh?", you said, removing the cigarette from your lips. He slowly moved forward, stature seeming to be much more straight and muscular than yours. It still amazed you sometimes how big he really was, not just visually. Jason, physically, was a big dude. Like, monster height yeah you'd seen that, but muscle wise? Dude looked like he could bend you over his knee and crack your spine in half with his thumbs. Bad analogy, but you get the point.

   Jason chuckled a little, taking the cigarette from your lips and holding it between his fingers. He almost made a move to smoke from it, but lowered his hand once he remembered that he had his mask on. You rolled your eyes for a second, but didn't pressure him on it.

  If he was wearing it it was for a good reason. His face may have been messed up or something, but you really didn't care. Or maybe he didn't like looking at himself? "Well, smart ass, being dead helps you learn a few things. Like take care of yourself. And...take it easy.", he said, leaning onto the frame of the railing to his right with his elbows positioned to hold him up to face you. You seemed to contemplate the thought, thinking that you'd like your cigarette back while he was toying with it between his gloved fingers. Now you were starting to question if you liked how you couldn't see any of him at all in the first place because of how damn annoying he was sometimes. Maybe you also liked that you couldn't see his face, too. It might've bee not the mystery behind it. It used to keep you up thinking about it.

  But, like most things, you'd gotten to the point of not giving a shit, and stuffing your hands in your pocket, you exhaled a sigh, watching smoke rise due to the coldness in the air. Your brow raised as you still didn't turn to face him. You didn't have to. You already knew what he looked like; enticing and practically begging for you to kiss his dumb mask-face. And it was annoying. "Really? Feel like that's directed at me in some way, you trying to say something?", you said, with a bit of a hiss to your voice. Of course you didn't mean it in a vile way, but it sounded like it.

  He knew better than to get offended at it though, instead resorting to smiling a little and shrugging, watching the butt of the cigarette lose its flame. Would it hurt him if it hit his skin? Could he even feel pain? "You look tired, rough day at work?", he asked quietly. He meant it, you could tell from the way his pitch changed from teasing to slightly more...concerned. Your back was hunched at an angle only used to alleviate a greater pain along your posture, and your eyes were half lidded to the point of making things in front of you seem hazy if you were to zone out, like you were falling asleep standing. You sighed deeply, running a hand over your forehead. "Some dickheads from Cobblepot’s gang came in and caused a fight to break out. Had to stay a few hours over repairs cause the boss of the joint can't get his shit together long enough to stop drinking and handle it on his own."

  He stood there was your brows furrowed into and agitated expression, eyes narrowing suit and grin fading from its neutral position to a displeased frown. "If that son of a bitch walks into the bar again I'll just shoot him down, I'm starting not to care if I loose my damn head for it." Jason's hand tightened on the railing he was resting on. "Don't say that." His voice seemed concerned, but more in a way of trying to sound concerned in a masked way. Like he didn't want you to know that he cared. There was a long moment of silence, and for a good few seconds you felt the familiar rage from earlier bubbling in your chest. That same burning sensation in the back of your throat and the tightness in your chest wasn't helping, your eyes narrowed as your arms crossed over one other. You were thinking it over, trying to figure out what you were thinking about it clearly behind the emotions of blinding rage. You did a lot of that lately.

  He didn't push you to speak. You were starting to think that he wouldn't be good with a partner since he didn't seem to care much whether you spoke or not, but to be fair you weren't his partner. You were... what were you? A refuge? That sounded to generous for your affiliation. A safe house? Probably, but that sounded too personal. With a long sigh, you tried to alleviate the tightness forming in your ribs. The moon was almost completely clouded over, the starts invisible due to the light pollution in the city. It was kind of sad how that had become something so common now. So many kids wouldn't be able to see the stars from their bedroom window anymore, or be able to look out from their backyard and see the endless unknown they'd most likely never get the chance to explore.

  Turning on your left heel, you moved to face him more directly, standing in close enough proximity to hear his voice if it were above a whisper. On previous occasions prior to your meeting you'd feel him tense up a little and grow uneasy under the closeness. But he didn't move now, and it felt more as if he was welcoming your presence more than anything. Your eyebrows lifted from their scornful expression, moving to something more mutely interested and amused. Your voice carried like the wind passing, ending far to short for his liking. He wasn't sure he'd ever want it to stop. "What about you, Red Hood- got any stories up your sleeve for me?", you asked, moving to steal your cigarette back. But Jason moved quicker than you, and faster than your hand extended to his arm he moved his hand back up to be level with his his shoulder. Tilting your head, you smiled a little. "Let me guess, you got hurt again? You can't be hurting that bad if you've managed to pop off at the mouth a few times in the course of a few minutes-" Your tone was teasing, but he made sure to cut you off to spare himself. Albeit he sounded sort of wary, it still caught you off guard enough to stop in your tracks.

"I saw something- ...that reminded me of you. Today."

  Saying that made you a little more than surprised, and in a flash of heat you felt your cheeks burn up a bit and your grin fade into amazement. His shoulders dropped, head dropping for a second as his hand fell back to have his elbow rest on the railing to lean back. You knew it was weird but you felt oddly...good. Did he really think of you? "Wh- Me?", you chuckled nervously, seeming to try to hide your reddening face by the dip of your head and the sudden interest in the ground below you. "Yeah- I uh- I did.", Jason replied. In a sudden burst of what seemed like realization he hurriedly reached for his jacket pocket, taking out what looked like a small necklace in a see-through box. From his outstretched hand you thought that it looked rather nice against the leather of his gloves, and your hand moved to take it from his.

  You watched closely as the dim lights from your apartment and the lights of the city blended around his fingers as they retreated from your own a little less eagerly than you expected. Huh. Slowly, you opened it, revealing what seemed to be a small blue flower in resin that looked like a water droplet. It was a pendant for the chain through its metal hook, glistening a pale silver that made you feel the urge to smile for a camera that wasn't there. Glancing up, you grinned at Jason. And in a flash of a second he felt his whole body flush with a sensation he knew all to well, especially with you. From under his mask he bit on his lower lip subconsciously, seeing how the curve of your mouth upturned in a grin so sincere he couldn't help but feel some sort of need to protect it.

  "You got this for me, you big sap?", you said, grinning widely. Your tone was teasing, but the light punch in his shoulder as your eyes glistened with admiration towards the necklace proved you weren't mad or creeped out by it. Jason chuckled a little slowly, dry and hoarse but still easygoing. "I said it made me think of you, right? Might as well give it to you to uhhh... think of yourself. I guess.", he retorted softly, shrugging a little. This d o r k. This man child. This dumb sexy masked man with attachment issues. How dare he make you start smiling, the bags around your eyes bending to seem like the most beautiful part of your face in that moment. Who even uses the word beautiful so loosely anymore?

  He seemed to watch as you placed it around your neck, the clasp going shut behind you through feeling its position a few times. You looked down, watching it cast a water-like reflection on your chest as you tilted your head a little bit like a child. Ah, fuck, that's kinda cute. Jason cleared his throat after a second, his arms folding over his chest after a second of watching you look at your own neck in awed silence. It was only when he felt his own body stiffen that he noticed you were looking at him, a slight grin on your face as you looked into the eyes of the mask. It felt like you were trying to say something to him, but your lips didn't move. Somehow, he knew what it meant, and his shoulders lost their tense feeling for the time.

  A few awkward moments passed before you looked down to your feet, clearing your throat and stepping a little closer. Oh shit, what were you- Moving closer, you felt your breath quicken a fraction as your eyes remained trained to the ground. You avoided eye contact for now, finding the cuff of his pants just above his combat boots much more interesting, it seemed. But your hands were raising, your fingers twitching under your own anticipation. He could feel his eyes wandering now, looking over your hips, your shoulders, your lips. Did you mean what you were going to do? Did you really want it?

...

Suddenly, you felt yourself stop. 

   Your hands were stuck above your waist, having been firmly held in place by two leather-clad gloves. Your eyes began to go wide, stuck on the downward angle of his head. Jason, who had felt so nervous when coming into contact with you previously but was now firmly holding your wrists, held his head low, away from the gaze your head moved so desperately to maintain. Slowly, you felt yourself relax, frowning a little. What were you thinking this time? You couldn't help but swallow down a gulp of fear forming in your throat. Maybe you had gone to far...?

   “You can't kiss me if you don't take off my mask, you know."

   Your heart stopped for a moment, eyes going wide for a good few moments as he released your hands, moving them gently by your elbows to the sides of his mask. You felt yourself gulp, cursing the strands of hair that were tickling the sides of your face and closing parts of your peripheral. You wanted to watch with all of your senses, not just your eyes. You couldn't help but tremble a little as well, and he seemed to wait patiently.

  The edge of the mask first came off of his jaw, slipping upwards smoothly as you saw what looked like part of a scar. His skin was tanned, light in places it had been cut, marred, or marked by some violent force you knew nothing about. Soon it came over his lips which were slightly parted now. Those to had a scar running up from the bottom of his pronounced chin, ending right below his pronounced nose which you saw clearly now. It seemed the edge of his eyelashes caught on the mask's cuff, causing him to close one eye. In the dim light of the balcony, you saw bright, bright eyes. They seemed to outshine the sun, beaming a slightly translucent green that made your own widen a small bit in wonder. His eyelashes were thick, dark and clumped a small bit from the wetness of the rain you assumed his face got drenched in earlier.

  His brows were thick too, seeming to line the end of his forehead over his eyelids in a way that made him look brooding. There were circles under his eyes. He looked weary. You felt, in that moment, as of you were going to collapse. Your legs and fingers had been shaking for a bit now as you stood still on the pavement, eyes trained on his own changing features. Parted lips moved to close only for a second as his tongue slid over their chapped surface. He was...beautiful. More beautiful than any person you'd ever seen at least. His expression looked as if it was constantly tired and brooding; like he'd seen things he shouldn't have.

  But you could see- and you were sure you wouldn't if you were only a few inches away -that his eyes were sad. The expanse of skin on his cheekbones and from his chin to his upper lip were charred, a very thin outline of a jagged letter 'J' carved into his left cheek. His eyes were...wary, like a tired animal. His hair looked messy and dark, a single white patch on the middle-left part of his head coming over one of his brows. He looked like the only reason he cut his hair was to keep it off his neck considering he had a very clean undercut in the back and a matted, long few pieces covering parts of his ears and brow in the front. His jaw was strong, having been pronounced by being clenched and unclenched with each touch, sending slight waves of heat over your body as your moved your trembling fingers to put down the helmet on the ground. It was heavy, but it didn't take you long to discard it somewhere near your flowerpots full of patches of unsoiled dirt and plates with cups on top of them.

  You could see that he didn't feel completely comfortable with this, and yet in the fact that you could even consider him to think himself anything less than gorgeous made you grin widely in an odd half-smile that made a small bit of your teeth shine through your lips. He clenched his jaw nervously.

  You felt a little choked up, but you could manage a few words at the moment. "Didn't know I'd be seeing God's face when I took of your mask, Jay. You could've warned me.", you said, grinning. He seemed to widen his eyes in slight surprise, moving to look anywhere but your face. Maybe he thought that if he couldn't see you you couldn't see him- and the growing blush on his face. In a breathless tone, sounding almost desperate, he spoke quietly. "Don't say that..." You rolled your eyes. "I will say that. Now look at me while I kiss you." He seemed to follow the command, his eyes still telling you that he felt a little scared. Moving his right hand from your elbow to your hip and his left from your other elbow to your neck, you slowly moved in, glancing him in the eyes before going for it.

  It seemed to catch him off guard first, for he didn't actually start kissing you back until you put one of your hands on his hip, drawing him closer. You felt suddenly that with a very restrained fierceness he moved into you, hips first, seeming to grip onto the side of your neck and your hip a bit more tightly. You felt like you were being used as an anchor, but you couldn't help but not mind it when you were being kissed like this. Jason's lips were just as chapped as they seemed, but they were strangely warm. The fact that his tongue kept darting out and straight back in was sort of endearing to you as he let out a sort of pleased sound at your hand moving to tangle in his hair.

  There was quiet as you parted, although you could now tell he was holding you as tightly as a screw would a nail. But for the moment, you didn't mind it. You liked looking as him like this, his eyes half-lidded and lips parted slightly, new moisture on his lips. With a grin, your eyes lit up as you felt a slight laugh come from your throat. This felt strangely intimate to you. Not once did you consider the fact that there was a slight raging sexual tension between you two that maybe said he wanted something out of this two, like a dumbass. But you couldn't feel bad right now for being dumb, you were too happy. With a slightly unsure moment, his grip loosed enough to let you stand more independently, the wobble in your movements mostly gone.

  His body was slightly stiff as he stood there, eyes moving all over. His movements made a lot more sense now; you could tell that previously when he did the same stiff posture earlier with his mask on he was looking around nervously to try and avoid his impending embarrassment. But he couldn't deny the pink tinge on his cheeks, and your thumb ran over his cheekbone as your hand slid back down to your side. Your eyebrow raised for a small moment as you felt yourself smirk, placing your hands on your hip. "So, uh, that was...nice. Wanna do it again sometime?" Jason said nervously, a grin spreading out on his face. You rolled your eyes at him, shoving his shoulder a little and watching him laugh and take the hit with a dramatic movement.

  "Go run home Romeo. And come back tomorrow, otherwise I'll hunt you down.", you said, backing up and watching him pick up his helmet. He shrugged a little half-heartedly before putting it back on, seeming to almost trip over the damn rail before perching up on it, looking at you with a grin. He fixed a grappling hook on the edge of the roof, pausing for a moment. His head didn't move as he breathed, but you couldn't help but chuckle a little and run a hand through your hair at the gesture. It was then that he inhaled sharply, nodding at you and giving you a two-fingered salute. "Couldn't leave if I wanted to, babe.", he said. You could hear the smile in his voice as he dropped away.

   And with that, he was gone. You felt your chest flutter at the words, and for a second of watching him drop to the street below before looking directly down there to only see nothing, you bit down on your lip.

You couldn't help but not care too much about your cigarette now.