#sure danny is used to doing mundane things with his powers now but fights… his years of Ghost Brawls are really biting him in the ass here | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

five-rivers · 4 years

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Adoption (part 2)

A gift for @a-flower-lover! This wound up being more along the lines of vignettes... Little snapshots into Danny’s life after being adopted by Clockwork. I hope that’s ok! (PART 1)

Mr. Lancer had met Charles Worth before, albeit briefly. The man had fostered a number of Casper High students and with that responsibility came parent-teacher conferences. He had struck Mr. Lancer as being steady and reliable, if, perhaps, impersonal, despite his predilection for clocks and ominous announcements. A decent foster parent, if not... ideal.

Mr. Worth just didn't seem to connect with his fosters, although he certainly didn't neglect them. Then, too, were the persistent rumors that his home was haunted.

Alright. So, Mr. Lancer didn't think Charles Worth was really a children person. Oh, he was a good person! It took one to do well as a foster parent, but... yeah.

Which was why the scene in front of him surprised him so much. Not the who of it, but the what.

The who was Daniel Fenton and Charles Worth waiting outside the office. The what was smiling and having a conversation. True, Mr. Fenton's smile looked like it was pasted on over several layers of anxiety, but it was genuine.

"Mr. Worth, Mr. Fenton?" he said, tamping down his surprise. "Come on in."

"Hi," said Mr. Fenton, his voice hoarse.

Mr. Worth smiled and nodded, pushing him up with his cane.

But Mr. Fenton must have noticed the curious look Mr. Lancer was giving him. "I knew Cl- Uh. Mr. Worth before this." He winced and smiled widely to cover it up. "So, uh, make up work? Since I missed the past week?"

"Yes, well, circumstances being what they are," aka his parents trying to murder him in public, in broad daylight (and didn't that give Mr. Lancer a chill?), "your teachers have put together a few packets for you to look over this weekend. They should get you more or less up to speed with where your classes are. I'm also willing to stay after school, to help you with anything you've missed in my classes."

Jazz knocked on the door of the Worth house. She had been made aware, via various supernatural (she did not particularly appreciate writing suddenly appearing on her fogged-up bathroom mirror) and mundane (Danny did have her phone number) means, that the man known as Charles Worth was actually the ghost known as Clockwork.

How this had occurred was not entirely clear to her. She assumed ghost powers, specifically time travel, were involved somehow.

But, to be honest, that didn't really matter to her. It was secondary, less than.

What was important here was that she hadn't been legally allowed to see her little brother in over a month. To keep her parents from contacting him. To keep her from letting her parents near him. Because they were legally barred from seeing him.

Because they had tried to kill him.

Jazz planned on never seeing her parents again, as soon as she got all of her and Danny's things from their house.

But now that prohibition had been lifted, because Clockwork had forced through what had to be the speediest adoption in the history of adoptions, and Danny was now legally his son. In the eyes of both humans and ghosts. Which was... Well. Danny seemed to be excited about it, anyway. He'd looked up to Clockwork for a while, from what he told Jazz.

Internally, Jazz had more than a bit of trepidation. She didn't know what adoption meant to ghosts, didn't have any context for it. And ghosts, even the good ones, even Danny, tended to be... obsessive. Extreme. She wasn't sure how that would translate when it came to interpersonal relationships.

The door creaked open, ever so slowly, the squeak it made grating on her eardrums. At first, it appeared to have opened on its own, then a hand gripped the edge of the door, and Clockwork, in human guise, leaned out from behind it.

Jazz raised an eyebrow.

Clockwork raised one right back. "This house is haunted, you know," he said.

Okay, never mind. The only thing she had to worry about was the fact that her brother and his mentor both had terrible senses of humor.

"Hi, Jazz!"

Being used to having a half-ghost brother, Jazz only yelped a little bit at his unexpected appearance behind her. Then she sighed and ruffled his hair. He hugged her and then bounced over the lintel into the house.

"Come on! I want to show you my room! It's so cool!" His voice became fainter as he went farther into the house, until his last exclamation was an eerie whisper.

Jazz looked at Clockwork as she stepped inside. "Is he doing that on purpose?"

Clockwork smiled blandly. "I am very fond of the acoustics in this house."

She looked at her surroundings with a skeptical eye. "It seems... dark in here."

"We are ghosts," said Clockwork. "Daniel is very excited to show you his room, by the way."

"He's human, too, don't forget," said Jazz.

"I won't."

The house was creepy.

Really creepy.

This was coming from someone who had spent most of her life living under the same roof as two ghost-obsessed mad scientists.

But Danny seemed to enjoy it, and he was the one living here. It wasn't like there was anything wrong with the house. Or anything in the house. It was just... off.

Danny was half-ghost, however, so maybe this was something he needed. Perhaps not all of his peppiness could be attributed to being the heck away from his murderous former parents.

Even so. Jazz had a duty, both as a big sister and an aspiring psychologist.

"I already read it," said Clockwork, setting a cup of tea down in front of her.

"What?"

"The book you were about to give me. I've already read it. And a number of others. I am not the kind of person who goes into things unprepared."

Danny rolled into the kitchen on the ceiling. This was easy to ignore. After her life, an Exorcist reference made by her over-excited younger brother, was, well. Underwhelming.

(Okay, she was a little distracted, but only by his glee.)

"Well," she said. "That's good."

"I know this house is out of the way," said Clockwork, craning his neck to look up at his coworker, "but you are rather conspicuous."

"Hm. Am I?" asked Pandora, craning her neck down to look at her comparatively tiny colleague.

"Yes. At that size, humans with average eyesight will be able to see you from town."

Pandora looked out over the trees. "Interesting," she said, mildly. "Do you think the ghost hunters will come?"

"You've spoken to Daniel."

"Yes. He stopped by earlier today, on his way to visit Mattingly. Although, I suppose you knew that already."

"Indeed I did. May I ask, is it your intention to lure the ghost hunters here, fight them, defeat them, and then leave them just close enough to here to constitute a breach of their terms of bail and the restraining order against them?"

"I am not terribly well-versed in human law," said Pandora, "but, why, yes. That is exactly what I'm doing. Best to get it done while Daniel is visiting friends, isn't it?"

"Yes. If you had done this while he was here, I would be significantly more annoyed." Clockwork smiled the sanguine smile of a parental figure who would commit murder if their child was upset.

Pandora returned a matching grin, one that promised retribution against persons who had harmed said child in the past. "Please, Clockwork. You know me better than that. I wouldn't subject him to being in the presence of those fools."

"Good," said Clockwork, eyes glinting.

"Hey, Clockwork? Do you know why there were police cars driving down the- Oh. Hello?" He stopped at the sight of an unfamiliar woman sitting at the dinning room table, next to Clockwork. He blinked and tilted his head to the side. "Wait. Pandora?"

"Perceptive," said the superficially human olive-skinned woman. "You seemed so happy when you stopped by, earlier. I thought I would come check in on you."

"You didn't have to," said Danny, beaming.

"Pandora has been trying to convince me to set her up as one of my relatives," said Clockwork, rolling his eyes. "Would you care for a cup of tea, Daniel?"

"Umm," said Danny, dubiously. "I'll try one, I guess. Does that mean you'll be my aunt?"

Pandora smiled. "Why, yes, it does."

Clockwork groaned theatrically.

"Ah," said Mr. Lancer, at the next parent-teacher conference. "Are you Mr. Worth's wife?"

"No," said Pandora, grinning. "I'm his sister."

Mr. Lancer looked back and forth between the two very different-looking entities. "I... see."

"We're adopted," said Clockwork.

"Oh! Alright then. Now, about Daniel..."

It was a bit strange to see Danny with so much energy, Sam reflected. Strange, but good.

It just went to show how drained he had become over time, how much the constant ghost attacks and worry, all the lies and stress and impossible expectations had worn away at him over time. She hadn't seen her friend this happy since freshman year. If that.

On the other hand...

"Dude," said Tucker. "Your house is spooky. And this is coming from someone who's been inside a literal mad science lab."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Mad science labs are campy, not spooky. Besides, you knew coming in that this house was haunted." He draped himself over the back of the couch, rolling until he was 'sitting' upside-down. "Anyway, what kind of movie do you want to watch? We've got a bunch, because Clockwork apparently collects media from doomed timelines."

"He's got a hobby?" asked Sam.

"Yeah, three," said Danny. "Gardening- you should talk to him about that, by the way, I think he'd like it- baking, and alternate timeline movies. And some books, too, I think. He's got a huge library back in Long Now. I've read like. Two books from it."

Clockwork's voice floated in from the other room. "You've read significantly more than that, Daniel."

"I guess," said Danny, doubtfully. He flopped off the couch, picked himself up, and started prodding at a shelf of movies. "This is from a timeline where the Earth got beaned by a massive asteroid. It's, like, a romcom, but it was made when everyone knew the asteroid was coming. This one is, uh, this is actually a dramatization of real events, apparently, but their timeline split from ours in like the fifties, so the events are pretty wild." He waved the DVD at them. "It's surreal?"

"How'd they die?" asked Tucker.

"Wacky superscience. No, really. Irradiated the entire planet."

"How do you know?" asked Sam.

"Oh, Clockwork puts notes on the boxes. He thinks it's interesting. And there does seem to be some correlation between how cursed the movies are and how bad the timeline was. Which maybe shouldn't surprise me? I mean, if they were bad timelines..." He shrugged. "Oh, this is a CGI Lion King. I can tell you: very cursed. Absolutely soulless. And this is from a timeline where copyright laws weren't changed, so Mickey Mouse and a bunch of other stuff was in the public domain."

"Isn't that a good timeline?" joked Sam.

"You'd think so," agreed Danny. "But apartheid in South Africa apparently never stopped, and they got a nuclear bomb, and, well... World War Three."

"Is that like, a domino effect, or...?"

"I'm not sure... Anyway. Uh. Genre?" He clapped his hands together.

Tucker leaned forward. "I want the wildest version of the Matrix you have."

"Ooh, good choice. There are, like, six with Will Smith. I haven't watched them all yet, but I think the one where they've got another sequel and Zion is also a- Wait, I shouldn't spoil it."

"After that, can you see if there's a non-crappy version of Dracula?" asked Sam.

"Sure. I haven't seen one yet, but I will look."

"I have popcorn," said Clockwork, entering the room, "and various baked goods. No dairy."

"You're the best."

Clockwork selected a thick blanket from the chest, then teleported himself to the living room to drape it over the three teenagers passed out on the couch. Overall, he found pretending to be human oddly enjoyable, but it could be trying at times. Tedious. All the finicky little motions humans had to go through to do the simplest of things added up over the day.

So, Clockwork tended to ease off of them when no one was watching. It made life easier.

Heh. Life.

(He would say that Daniel's puns were rubbing off on him, but in truth Clockwork's sense of humor had been like that for, well. Eons.)

He put the kitchen in order with an absent wave of his hand, and double-checked the stove out of habit. It wasn't nearly as good as his actual oven, back in Long Now, but it was serviceable.

One of Daniel's friends mumbled in their sleep, and Clockwork looked in on them. Still peaceful. It was good for Daniel to have them here. Beneficial for both his human and ghost halves.

He hummed to himself and patted Daniel's head as he thought about their plans for the weekend. He had arranged for some truly aggravating evangelical missionaries to darken their doorstep. It would do Daniel good to inspire a touch of terror. In an entirely controlled and risk-free way, of course. No matter how unpleasant the people coming were, Clockwork had no intention of harming them, or suggesting anything of the sort.

But, well. They were ghosts. Being feared was soothing.

(Clockwork knew this wasn't what Jasmine meant when she suggested Clockwork engage in family bonding activities with Daniel. But what she didn't know...)

"I think my teeth are getting sharper," said Danny, pulling a face at the mirror. "Is that normal?" The last was shouted, to get Clockwork's attention. Intellectually, Danny knew he didn't need to do that, but a lifetime of habit was hard to shake.

"It is difficult to say what is normal for someone like you, but many ghosts do have fangs," said Clockwork. "Including myself."

"Hm," said Danny. "This isn't, like, a ghost puberty thing, is it? Because I already used up most of my evil puberty jokes."

"Oh, only most?" Clockwork slid behind him and started rubbing the tension out of his shoulders.

Danny shrugged. "Eh, give or take. But, seriously."

"No, it isn't a ghost puberty thing."

"Oh, good. Because dealing with one puberty is more than enough."

Clockwork was silent. Danny looked up and met troubled eyes in the mirror.

"Clockwork?"

"Daniel," started Clockwork, before giving Danny an uneasy smile. "Speaking of puberty..."

Danny blanched. "No."

"What?"

"No. Nope. Not doing the talk today, no sir. I got that at school."

"Daniel, as strange as Casper High may be at times, I highly doubt they taught you anything about immortality."

"What."

"It's why ghosts put so much forethought into relationships like this," explained Clockwork, careful not to look directly at Daniel's hiding place. "They might last forever. I certainly hope this one does."

"But I don't want to be a teenager forever!" wailed Danny. He had mastered the art of making his voice sound like it was coming from a completely different direction than it actually was.

Clockwork was older than human civilization and had been worshiped as a god by several civilizations. He did not wince at the heartbreak in his child's voice.

"Your shapeshifting abilities should come in after a few years," said Clockwork. "You'll be able to pass as older."

Daniel answered with a moan.

"I must confess, I'm not sure why you are so upset about this. I can see that you are, but could you explain why for me?"

"I don't knoooooowww..."

"I don't want everyone to die and leave me alone," admitted Danny, hunched over a carton of ice cream. "I don't want to see my- my people die." He sniffled.

"We don't have to stay in Amity Park if you don't want to," said Clockwork.

Danny shook his head. "No! That's worse," he said, hating how his voice tilted into a whine. "That's- I can't abandon them! I can't- can't miss their time. I just..." He let out a huff of air. "It's hard."

Clockwork wrapped an arm around Daniel's shoulders. "It may not help much," he said, "but people in Amity Park have a much higher chance of becoming ghosts. It's the ectoplasm in the air."

"Promise?" asked Danny.

"Promise. Although, who, exactly, becomes a ghost is outside of my control. All I can tell you is that the people here have a better chance."

Danny leaned against Clockwork. "Thanks," he mumbled. "Clockwork?"

"Yes?"

"You don't think I'm a freak, do you?"

"Of course not."

Mr. Lancer squinted down at Daniel Fenton's latest assignment with a mix of appreciation, disbelief, and shame. This was easily the best work he had ever received from Daniel. In fact, it rivaled papers he had received from Jasmine.

It made him wonder- How long had Daniel been suffering? What had Daniel been suffering? He was no expert when it came to abuse, but all teachers had some training, and he knew that abusers tended to escalate, starting with something relatively innocuous and ending with a travesty. For things to progress to attempted murder... What had it started as? When had it begun?

(Could Mr. Lancer have stopped it?)

(That question would haunt him more than any ghost.)

Well, there was a silver lining to this, Mr. Lancer supposed. He had rarely seen two people who got along as well as Daniel and Charles Worth. It was good, he thought, for the man to have someone in his life on a more permanent basis, rather than the revolving door of temporary foster children.

How rapidly the adoption went through was a little odd, but... Mr. Lancer shrugged. Undoubtedly, Mr. Worth had taken the time over his years as a foster parent to familiarize himself with the system, and with Daniel's former parents unfit to be anywhere near children...

He shrugged again and stamped Daniel's paper with an A+.

#danny phantom #gift #prize #winner #fic #phanfiction

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dp-marvel94 · 3 years

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Face to Face- Chapter 29

Summary: When Danny went through the ghost catcher, he expected to be cured of the ghostliness that had haunted him since the accident, not to wake up on the lab floor with his parents saying he’d been overshadowed but everything’s back to normal now. But why does Danny Fenton cry himself to sleep to then dream of flying? Why does Phantom, the ghost who was supposedly possessing Danny remember a life that wasn’t his? Most of all, why do both the human and the ghost feel that something vital is missing, in their very soul? Or: Trying to cure himself of his powers one month after the accident, Danny accidentally splits himself but neither his ghost nor his human half know that that is what they did

First ->Last -> Next

Word Count: 7,787

Also on AO3 and Fanfiction.net

Phantom’s worry wouldn’t seem to ease even as he and Fenton struggled to relax the rest of Saturday. They tried to distract themselves with YouTube, books, calling Sam and Tucker. They even tried homework much to both Danny’s chagrin but the anxiety was ever present. And as day turned to night and the human Danny went to sleep, the unease just got worse

Phantom floated, watching the stars and the quiet street outside the window with a furrowed brow. All this, this waiting, it was really getting to him. He was trying to be patient and he hoped, he really hoped things would turn out okay. That Mom and Dad would figure out the ghost catcher but….

Mom not trusting him, her not apologizing was still bothering him. And it really hurt. The illusion of his stomach flopped. Things weren’t getting worse at least but...they weren’t getting any better either. He sighed. He’d been in positions like this before, when he’d been upset with his parents. An initial fight, feelings get hurt, and then...no resolution. The hurt would linger for a while until he’d eventually forget about it. He could do that now, just ignore and try to forget about what she said. But...the problem with hurt feelings was they always crept back.

Phantom turned away, deciding to do something else. Maybe he’s read some more or… For some reason, he really wanted to sit in the lab in front of the portal and just listen to its song. It was a bad idea but he had to do it anyway. The ghost sat on the stairs, ears keenly listening to the ebb and flow of the voices. He enjoyed the feeling of the green swirling light shining on his face and penetrating through his suit. But of course, the ever present worry lingered below the surface. Some of it was his human side’s natural reaction to the portal but the rest of it was much more mundane.

The ghost rubbed a hand across his face. “What are we gonna do?”

No answer came and yet….Phantom couldn’t seem to stop worrying, even as the morning came.

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Fenton blinked awake, a dream of watching the portal lingering in his mind. Or….likely not a dream, if he knew himself. He rolled over and there of course was his ghost half, floating above their desk chair with a book. Huh….he must have….left the lab at some point.

Yawning, the human closed his eyes again. He drifted in and out of consciousness for a little while. Then there was a rustling. Again, the boy’s eyes fluttered open. Oh yeah, Phantom again… that must have been the sound of him turning the pages.

The ghost’s head slowly rose up and he half smiled at the human Danny. “Morning.”

“Morning.” Fenton muttered in acknowledgment.

With squinted eyes, he reached for his phone. He noted the time, 10:40 am, with little interest as he scrolled through social media for a few minutes. Eventually though, he sat up and left the room to use the bathroom.

Fenton returned to find the ghost where he left him. Phantom looked up at the sound of the door opening. He put down the book, his expression carefully neutral though his shoulders were tense. Overall, he looked somewhat cross; it was a little concerning to see even if Fenton knew the attitude was not directed at him.

The human raised a brow. “You’re worried.” Again, it wasn’t a question but a statement, an observation.

Phantom bit his lip, his shoulders falling. “Yeah...I’m sure you felt it.”

“Yeah.” Fenton shrugged sadly but said nothing else. He felt no need to continue; both of them knew what they were worried about and why so there was no need to say it out loud.

Then the human’s stomach growled.

“Breakfast?” Phantom questioned with a raised brow.

“Breakfast.” Fenton agreed.

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Sunday progressed much like Saturday had. The pair tried to distract themselves and managed to finish with the rest of their homework within two hours. Then they lounged in the living room and watched tv. Softly, the sound of Mom and Dad working in the lab drifted up the stairs, occasionally punctuated by the louder sound of something being welded or hammered.

Fenton frowned, remembering his conversation with Jazz yesterday afternoon. She’d said something about convincing the two adults to take a break. He’d only seen them briefly around dinner time last night and they’d looked just as tired then as they had yesterday afternoon. Obviously Jazz’s appeals feel on deaf ears. They must have gone up to their room to sleep at some point at least because Phantom had been down there in the middle of the night but….

“I think they came upstairs about midnight, after you’d already fallen asleep.” The ghost supplied, apparently having picked up on that train of thought. “And Mom came down around 6:30.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “She just missed spotting me down there.”

A brief memory sprang into the human’s mind. Floating crossed legs in the air and basking in the light of the portal, he was startled at the sound of the lab door being unlocked (Yes, apparently his parents had actually started using that lock again. Too bad it did nothing to keep out someone who could phase through solid objects). With a quick gasp, he flickered invisible and rose in the air to be just inches from the ceiling. Watching Mom, hair still unkept and bags still under her eyes, trod down the stairs, he phased out of the room.

Back in the living room, Fenton wrinkled his nose. “Yeah….that would not have ended well.”

For a moment, he imagined the berating his other self surely would have gotten for being in the lab alone and in the early morning no less. From the ghost’s paled face, he was picturing the same.

“She would not have been happy.” Phantom shook his head. Then his face hardened somewhat as he crossed his arms. “But then again, she never seems to be satisfied with me.”

Fenton frowned, his heart clenching at the statement, the bitterness in it. He opened his mouth, wanting to argue that that wasn’t true but…their conversation on Wednesday after Mom and Dad’s argument in the lab rang in his mind. ‘She doesn’t trust me. It’s me, not you…..Why does she accept you but not me?’ He had been trying not to think about any of that over the past few days. He and Phantom hadn’t even talked about it since then. Fenton had thought they were being patient and waiting for things to get better but maybe that wasn’t what they were doing. Maybe-

But then an explosion rocked the house. Fenton screamed in fright at the same time Phantom grabbed for him, instinctively turning both of them intangible. The human’s eyes bulged, his heart pounding out of his chest. The smoke alarm started blaring.

Feet pounded above them and Jazz appeared at the top of the stairs. “What was that?!” She shouted, alarmed even as she ran down the stairs.

The Dannys returned at tangibility, as their sister stopped beside their spots on the couch. The siblings’ eyes feel on where the sound had come from.

“The lab!” All three yelled with equal panic.

Before Fenton could register what he was doing, he’d leapt from the couch, ran across the kitchen, and flung the lab door open. His heart dropped at the sight. His parents stood around a singed and cracked lab table, Dad brandishing a fire extinguisher and spraying the remains of a certain invention.

Jazz ran past him. “What happened?! Are you okay?”

The large man released the trigger on the extinguisher. “Fire’s out. See, it’s fine.” He said, much too casually.

“Fine?! You blew up the ghost catcher!” Mom yelled, pointing angrily.

The kids all ignored the statement, running (or flying) forward now that it looked safe to approach. “Are you guys okay?” “Are you hurt?” “What’s going on?” A cacophony of questions rang out as Fenton’s panicked mind tried to piece together what was happening. But the parents ignored the questions.

“I blew it up?!” Dad jabbed a thumb in his wife’s direction.

“I said those batteries would overload! I said that!”

“I did the calculations, Maddie! Twice! I did them twice and they’re fine!”

“They still blew up, Jack!”

Jazz cut in. “Mom! Dad!” The adults just yelled over her.

“I can see that!” The man growled. “Your wiring must have been faulty!”

“My wiring?! My wiring!? Well, if we’d stopped when I’d said, then maybe-”

“Stop!” An echoing voice suddenly roared. The arguing adults instantly froze, turning to look at the only ghost in the room. “What is going on here?!”

Mom’s eyes widened, taking in an angry and panicked Phantom. Dad shrugged sheepishly. “Well we-”

“Never mind that!” Jazz waved her arms. “Are you two hurt?”

“We’re fine, sweetie.” Mom waved off the concern.

Dad gave an over eager attempt at a comforting smile. “Yeah, Jazzerincess. Your mom and I are fine.”

Fenton frowned, crossing his arms. His eyes trailed the adults, looking for injuries. Though they still looked disheveled and their hazmat’s suits were dirty, there were no tears in the fabric. No burns or visible bruises or cuts. The human’s shoulders relaxed in relief. “You guys don’t like hurt.”

“We’re not, Danny boy.” Dad confirmed holding out his arms as if to display how uninjured he was. “We’re fine.”

Their sister was only barely placated. “Fine! The lab’s a mess! And you both...you both….” Her lip quivered. “It’s lucky you’re both uninjured.”

The human Danny nodded in agreement. Slowly his heart rate was decreasing as his initial fear for his parents lessened. Now a different feeling was welling up in the back of his mind.

Phantom pointed at the invention on the table. “Is that…” His voice and his hand shook. “Was that the ghost catcher?”

Fenton’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach, his eyes widening. “Mom? Dad?”

The man bit his lip. “Danno….”

The lack of confirmation was answer all the same. “You….you blew up the ghost catcher.” The ghost mumbled quietly, his voice strangely haunted.

“Yes.” Mom said equally quiet with a large measure of guilt ringing in her voice. “But….”

“You blew up the ghost catcher.” Phantom repeated, this time gritting his teeth.

“We’ll fix it, I promise.” Dad pleaded.

Fenton could feel his anger rising, a pale reflection of that which was seething in his other self. And the words, they did little to comfort.

The ghost’s eyes burned, flashing brighter. “You blew up the ghost catcher!” He stuttered. “That...we...we can’t... without it...How...how could you?!” He gritted his teeth in an almost snarl before disappearing.

The human Danny’s heart seemed to lodge in his throat as the phantom sensation of phasing through something crashed through him. The living room flickered into his view before he was phasing into his bedroom.

Somewhere far away, voices called his name. “Danny!” Was that Jazz? Dad? Mom? Wait, no….they weren’t far away….

“Danny?” Jazz asked quietly.

He, Fenton, blinked. Yes, he was Fenton, just the human half. He was still in the lab with his parents and sister.

“Danny?” His sister repeated.

The boy shook his head, dispelling the fog. “Yeah, I’m here.”

Mom crossed her arms, giving him an uncertain look. “Do you know where he went?”

“Of course.” Fenton said, like it was obvious. Because it was.

His eyes flickered to the stairs and then back to his mother’s face. She raised a brow, asking the silent question.

The human bit his lip. “Our room….I should…..I should go...” He pointed up stairs before looking down and muttering. “Before I do something stupid.”

Fenton glanced up tentatively, taking in the worry and guilt in his parents’ faces. Then his eyes fell on the destroyed ghost catcher. All air seemed to leave his lungs as his heart throbbed. Tears starting to collect in his eyes, the boy ran up the stairs without another word.

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Only moments later, the human Danny barged into his room before slamming the door. He took a shaky breath. His hands were shaking, maybe from his emotions, maybe from the cold. The temperature had dropped since he’d last been in here, enough to make his breath visible. And like he told his parents, the culprit was in the room.

The ghost floated in the middle of the room, his back facing the human. His posture was stiff with his shoulder’s hitched almost all the way up to his ears. His hands were balled at his sides, lit with green ectoenergy.

“Phantom?” Fenton softly ventured.

No verbal response came, but there was a mental and emotional one. The human could feel it in the tensing of his muscles, the heartbroken anger. Phantom wanted to hit something or shot something. He wanted to scream or cry or…..

Fenton balled his fists, taking a steadying breath. He felt the same of course; he too wanted to lash out but instead he slowly walked around the ghost, keeping his distance from the neon green light. “Danny?”

The human took another step, opening his mouth to call his other half’s name again. But then tearful green eyes met his. Fenton’s eyes instantly watered...or had that already been happening?

“Are you-” The human started, taking in the other’s expression. But he stopped. He was going to say, are you okay? But that was a dumb question. He could visibly see that Phantom was not okay and if he couldn’t see it….he could feel it.

Phantom vigorously shook his head. He floated forward, towards his human self before stopping. His frown deepened as he looked down at his green-lit hands. With a sigh, he extinguished the lights before looking back up at Fenton’s face. “You’re looking kinda blue.” He said both concerned and worried.

“Yeah.” Fenton shivered, again registering how his hair was raised in goosebumps. He wrapped his arms after his chest, his hands under his armpits to warm them. “So are you.”

It was subtle but there was a very slight icy blue tint to the skin of Phantom’s face.

“Oh.” In response, the ghost’s expression fell. He pitched his eyes closed in concentration for a long moment. “I can’t turn it off.” The ghost sounded alarmed.

Then there was a knock at the door. “Danny? Can I come in?” Jazz questioned.

Both Dannys’ eyes widened in identical panic. “Umm...no.” “Don’t come-”

At the same time, their sister quickly said. “That’s it. I’m coming in whether you want me to or not.” Jazz bursted into the room, her arms instantly wrapping around herself. “Why is it so cold in here?”

That just brought back Phantom’s growing panic. “I can’t...I can’t stop it…” He choked out.

Jazz frowned. “You’re doing this?”

The ghost nodded. “I..I don’t know how to stop!”

“Oh Danny.” Their sister walked forward, hands reaching out to touch him.

“Stop!” Fenton grabbed her arm. “We could...we could hurt you.”

Both Dannys’s eyes met, Phantom’s lip trembling. The human could tell he was remembering that night he’d accidentally burned Fenton. But the boy shook his head; there was no need to feel guilty about that. Or about the possibility of hurting Jazz.

The girl looked between the two, giving Fenton a cautious look.

“Cold burn.” Phantom said simply. “I can’t...I don’t know how to stop!” He shook his head. “You...you guys should go.. or...I’ll…” He glanced up at the ceiling, floated upward.

“Danny, wait!” Jazz exclaimed. She pulled her arm out of Fenton’s grip and started walking towards the closet. “You can do this. Just calm down.”

Again, the ghost shook his head, his chest starting to heave. “No, I..I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” The girl said earnestly as she riffled through the closet. She threw something at Fenton.

“What is…” The human looked down at the object in his hands, a hoodie with gloves in the front pocket. Understanding, he started to pull on the garments.

Jazz was pulling on one of Danny’s coats herself. Lightening fast, she put on a pair of gloves.

“No I…” Phantom argued, tears falling down his face.

Their sister planted herself in front of him. “Yes, you can.” She took one of his gloved hands in hers. “You are in control, Danny. You are. You control your powers; they don’t control you.” The ghost boy shook his head. Jazz squeezed his hands. “Just breathe with me okay. In...and out….” Phantom tried to copy her actions, still panting. “Okay, Let’s think warm thoughts….alive thoughts.”

Even with his core inside his other chest, Fenton felt how the words stung. “Alive...alive thoughts? I’m...I’m not alive…” The ghost gritted his teeth. “I’m...I’m dead….I’m stuck like this, ‘cause Mom and Dad blew up the ghost catcher! I’m...I’m trapped! I’m...I’m just a ghost, ‘cause….” The words blurred together into an ugly mix of anger and despair.

Jazz didn’t recoil. “They’ll figure that out but right now, you need to-”

“Figure it out?” Phantom scoffed. “They...they have no clue. They’ve been arguing about it all week and...it’s not like it’ll fix anything.” His eyes flashed brighter. “Mom will still look at me like it’ll turn into a monster any moment or...like I’m not even here.”

“Danny, that’s not true.” Their sister chastised, trying to get the ghost’s attention.

“And she hasn’t even apologized. I mean… she knows she said horrible things. She should know she hurt me but she'll barely acknowledge it. Is she...is she even sorry?!”

“Danny!” Jazz tried again, now visibly shivering.

That finally broke Fenton out of his trance. He’d been so caught up in the anger, he’d been frozen beside himself. But now he sprang into action.

The human stepped forward, taking Phantom’s other hand. “Phantom! We can worry about that later. But now we need to fix this.” His voice was stern, the determination instantly drawing his other self’s attention. Green eyes met blue as the ghost realized what he was doing. He tried to pull away but both humans’ grips remained firm.

Fenton continued. “Jazz is right. We need to think warm thoughts, alive thoughts.”

“But-” The ghost started.

“We are still alive.” The human implored. “Remember who you’re talking to.”

Phantom nodded slowly, barely perceptibly as more clarity entered his vision.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Fenton cracked the most subtle of smiles. “Here, breath with me.” He breathed in and out, his ghost copying. “You remember what lungs feel like. And our heart? I know you can still feel it.” He focused inward, on the distant churning of his spectral energy. “‘Cause I can feel our core. And I can feel how much it hurts.”

Slowly the cold lessened as the temperature rose.

“That’s it. You’re doing it.” Jazz encouraged. The girl also breathed in and out, following the Dannys’ rhythm.

Fenton felt his heart rate slow as the rhythmic action calmed him. Fenton and Phantom breathed in unison, the pulsing of the ghost’s core paradoxically increasing. The human could actually feel it physically through his glove but also somewhere distantly in his mind. At the same time, the ghost’s skin also warmed, slowly reaching a temperature that no longer threatened to burn bare hands, and then farther, to something that could be comfortably hugged.

The human Danny did just that, taking a step forward to embrace his ghost half. Phantom eagerly returned the hug, sniffling. Now that he was calmed, the ghost had started crying. Fenton was too, his throat closing up with emotion. With his powers under control, everything that had just happened hit him. What happened with the ghost catcher and everything Phantom had said. Harsh, painfilled, despaired words but….he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think and feel the same way.

After a long moment, Jazz’s arms wrapped around both boys as she joined the hug from the side. “Shh, it’s okay.” She cooed. “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not.” Phantom muttered. “I could have hurt you.”

“Well, you didn’t.” Jazz comforted. “You got things under control.”

“Yeah.” The ghost agreed passively, only slightly comforted.

“You did.” Their sister reassured. “You’re trying so hard. And I know you’d never hurt me.”

Phantom did seem to relax at her words, the guilt he was projecting to Fenton lessening. For a few more breaths, the hug continued until the siblings pulled apart.

“I am so sorry about what happened in the lab.” Jazz finally said.

“Yeah, that.” Fenton frowned, crossing his arms. Then he looked up at Jazz. “Is that why you came upstairs?”

The girl’s face softened. “I wanted to check on you.” She glanced between the two cautiously. “I’m glad I did. You were really upset.”

"Do you blame me?" Phantom muttered, crossing his arms.

"Of course not." Jazz said kindly. "You're feeling what you're feeling and that's okay. And I know it doesn’t feel like it. But…." The girl bit her lip. "It’s going to be okay. This might delay things but Mom and Dad will figure out how to help you."

Fenton frowned at the statement. He wanted to disagree, that previous anger that his other self had displayed still lingering in his mind. But at the same time… the human boy sighed. "I know."

"You're right." Phantom continued also sighing. "I'm...I'm still mad at them for what happened to the ghost catcher but I know they're trying. I shouldn't….I shouldn't have said they weren't earlier."

"You were angry, Danny. It's understandable. Although…" Jazz frowned. "Speaking of earlier, do you want to talk about what you said about Mom?"

Phantom suddenly stiffened. "No." He said flatly.

“Danny.” Their sister pinned the ghost with a glare before turning towards the human.

Fenton crossed his arms and raised a brow. “Why are you looking at me? I’m not gonna contradict myself.”

Jazz blinked twice, her frown deepening. “Really? You don’t want to talk about how you’re clearly still angry at Mom about what she said on Wednesday?”

“No. I don’t.” Phantom ground his teeth.

“Danny, this isn’t healthy.” Jazz started.

“Jazz.” The human boy scowled, with the same angry and closed off posture as his other self.

The girl continued undeterred. “You can’t keep bottling stuff up like this.”

“I’m not-” Phantom started arguing.

Jazz cut him off, pointing seriously at Fenton. “You promised me, you promised you’d talk to me, that you’d let me help you.”

That caused both Dannys’ mouths to snap shut. The human half looked down. “I did promise you that.”

The girl seemed to notice the change in attitude, her own tone softening. “So then talk to me.”

The human Danny opened and closed his mouth, searching for words but none came out. He couldn’t decide what to say, where to start. Tentatively, he glanced at his other self. The ghost still had his arms crossed, expression screaming that he’d already said too much.

Jazz groaned, rubbing her eyes with her palms. “Two mouths and I still can’t get you to talk to me.” She then sighed. “Look, I already know you’re upset about the stuff Mom’s said about ghosts and you want her to apologize.” Both versions of her brother said nothing, looking anywhere but at the girl. “Am I wrong?”

After a long pause, Fenton begrudgingly muttered. “No, you’re not.” Unhelpfully, he offered nothing more.

His sister sighed again. “Danny, things aren’t going to get better with Mom unless you talk to each other.” She pointed. “You said you would talk to her if things didn’t get better. And they haven’t gotten any better.”

“Well, they haven’t gotten worse.” The human Danny wrinkled his nose.

“Just because they haven’t gotten worse doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t do something.” Jazz held up her hands.

“Look Jazz.” Fenton sighed. "Dad said to be patient with Mom and that she'd come around, okay? That’s what we’re doing, being patient with her.”

“Or maybe you’re ignoring the problem because you don’t want to deal with it.”

The human Danny opened his mouth to argue that that wasn’t true but he stopped. He’d been thinking something approaching that line of thought not even an hour ago. He bit his lip. “Maybe-”

Phantom cut him off. “Mom hurt us. Repeatedly, multiple times.” He grit his teeth. “She’s supposed to make the first move. She’s supposed to apologize. But she’s not even sorry.”

“That’s not true.” Fenton immediately argued. “She changed her mind about training us and about the flying and...we’ve seen how guilty she looks.”

“Have we?” The ghost held out his arms. “All I know is she’s been avoiding me. Mom won’t touch me. She won’t look at me, barely talks to me. She’s always working in the damn lab.”

The human huffed. “She's been working to find a way to fix this, Phantom.”

The ghost glared. “Like that’ll do anything to fix all the sh-”

Jazz interrupted. “You’re not being fair; you can’t know what she’s thinking. Mom might not even know how much she’s hurt you, let alone-.”

A flicker of anger reingnited in Fenton’s heart. Beside him, Phantom hissed. “Is she stupid?” His eyes flashed. “What? She’s just not paid attention the multiple times we’ve cried in front of her. She just somehow can’t see how much pain we’re in! No, Mom knows the shit she’s said. She knows it’s wrong and she should know that it hurt me!” The ghost waved his arms. “But she probably thinks I’m an unfeeling monster; why would it matter if I’m in pain? I deserve it.”

“Danny. Stop.” The human boy grabbed his other half’s flailing arms. “We both know we don’t really believe what. Mom doesn’t think that either.”

“Then why hasn’t she apologized?!” Phantom shouted, pulling his arms out of Fenton’s grasp. “If she knows, if she cares that she hurt me, why won't she apologize?!”

Jazz looked between the two versions of her brother, eyes wide with concern. “You’re right.” Both heads, one with black hair and one with white hair, turned to look at her. The girl sighed. “It’s absurd to think that Mom doesn’t know that she hurt you or that she doesn’t care but...you haven’t even talked to her about this, Danny. She doesn’t know that getting a verbal apology is this important to you.”

There was a pause as both boys took in the girl’s words. Then Phantom gritted his teeth. “I shouldn’t have to ask for an apology.”

“Danny.” Jazz sighed again. “I know that-”

“Mom's the adult.” The ghost cut her off again. “She's supposed to apologize. She’s supposed to reach out and try to fix this. Not me, I'm 14! I'm a kid. I shouldn't have to beg her to say she’s sorry!”

“You’re right. You shouldn’t.” Their sister held out her hands. “You shouldn’t have to beg for an apology. We shouldn’t be having this argument because our mother should be emotionally mature enough to actually talk to you and try to fix things. But apparently, she’s not. For some reason, she’s ignoring the issue and burying herself in work or she’s a lot more oblivious than we think. Now…” She pointed. “You can keep doing nothing and hope that Mom will get her act together and tell you she’s sorry. Which is not going to happen. You can keep waiting for an apology that will never come. You can just keep making yourself more angry, bitter, and miserable. And keep on feeling sorry for yourself. Or” She emphasized the word. “You can actually talk to Mom. If you want there to be a chance for things to get better, you have to talk to her!” Jazz finally stopped, looking thoroughly exacerbated.

And rightfully so, Fenton thought. Guilt squirmed in his gut. Even if Phantom had been the one to actually voice all those thoughts, they were all still his thoughts. The human still desperately wanted Mom to apologize. He just wanted things to be better but he didn’t want to talk to the woman because he was afraid….

“What if…” Phantom swallowed. “What if we do talk and she’s not sorry at all?”

And that was it. If they talked and learned Mom still thought all those horrible things about ghosts. What if he was still wrong, still unnatural, still lesser in her eyes? What if….

“Then you’ll actually know.” Jazz said softly. “And we’ll figure out what to do from there.” She put a hand on Phantom’s and a hand on Fenton’s shoulder. “No matter what Dad and I have your back.”

She smiled at the pair, obviously trying to comfort. But it stung. Guilt wiggled through his insides; Fenton remembered Mom and Dad fighting, arguing because of him. He imagined: Escalation, shouting, tears. Mom storming out. Dad taking him and Jazz to their grandparents. Their family ripped apart because he was stupid and got himself killed. Anguish rippled through him even as Phantom’s cold hand found his and a hint of emotion pressed into Fenton’s portion of their mind. If it was anyone else’s hand, it might have been comforting but that was his own hand, his own mind trying to say it’s okay. And he wasn’t sure he believed what he was thinking.

Jazz was in front of him, gently brushing his bangs from his face. “Just think about what I said, okay? Everything’s going to be fine.” Silence lingered as neither boy responded, not that any part of them knew how. Finally their sister ventured. “Danny?”

Fenton looked up, meeting her eyes. “Yeah. We hear you. We’ll….” He glanced at his ghost half, a wordless conversation passing between the two in a matter of seconds. “We’ll think about it.”

The girl raised a brow. “You will?”

“Yes.” Phantom agreed, passionlessly. “You...you made some good points, I guess. We’ll have to talk about it.”

Jazz nodded, studying the pair for a long moment and seemingly judging their sincerity. “Okay.” Her expression finally softened, though the glint in her eyes said she wasn’t exactly satisfied. “If you decided you want to talk to Mom today, I can come with you but….fixing things is on you and Mom. You guys are the only ones who can make things better.”

Fenton looked down and frowned, considering the words. A heavy sadness fell over him; with the previous anger evaporated, the grief and fear weighed down heavily on his shoulders. Still, he said nothing.

Meanwhile, Jazz lingered for a moment. She glanced towards the door. “I should probably check on our parents. They were cleaning up the lab when I left. Although….I need to make them take a break before they kill themselves.” The girl then turned to face both versions of her brother. “Unless you want me to stay with you.”

Phantom shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I think...” He glanced at Fenton who met his eyes. “I think we need to be alone.”

Again, Jazz studied them, a deeply troubled expression maring her face. Finally she conceded. “Alright. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” She paused for a moment, before again wrapping her arms around Fenton and Phantom. “I love you, little brother.”

The human Danny just stood there; he didn’t have the heart to return the gesture or the words. After a long moment, Jazz pulled away. Her concerned eyes fell on both boys, even as she left the room.

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

For a short eternity, Phantom and Fenton just stood and floated side by side in their room. Their fragmented mind struggled to process what just happened as the fire of their anger cooled into a freezing despair.

The human Danny was the first to move. Slowly, like his limbs were weighed down, he stumbled to the bed and flopped down. The boy put his head in his hands. “Mom and Dad….they blew up...they blew the ghost catcher.” He stuttered the words painfully.

Phantom sighed. “Yeah.”

“That really happened.” Fenton said numbly.

The ghost nodded in sad confirmation. After a few beats of silence, the human looked up. Frowning heartbrokenly, he pulled his legs up onto the bed and then his knees to his chest. He met Phantom’s eyes. “What are we gonna do?”

The ghost’s core clenched. He knew that question wasn’t asked expecting an answer but oh, how he wished he had a solution. But he didn’t. There wasn’t a solution, not one within his grasp at least. With a deep sigh, Phantom floated forward. He sat down on the bed, hip to hip with his other self. With his own knees pulled his chest, the ghost’s posture mirrored the human’s.

“I guess...we keep waiting.” Phantom grumbled.

“I don’t wanna keep waiting.” Fenton mumbled.

The ghost said nothing; there was no point. They had to wait. And that hurt, the thought of this lasting for weeks or even months more. But…. “We can do this.” Phantom leaned into Fenton. “We can keep doing this. We’ll be okay?”

The ghost was getting so tired of saying that, of trying to hold on to hope.

“What are we doing?” Fenton interrupted, looking at his ghost.

Phantom blinked at him, in confusion.

The human shook his head. “We run into one roadblock and we fall apart again.”

“This isn’t one roadblock.” The ghost huffed. “Things keep...things keep getting worse. Everything’s falling apart.”

“Not everything.” Fenton’s hand found his.

The ghost looked to the side, studying him. “Yeah...not everything.” He still had himself; things were still good and getting better between his two halves. He had Sam and Tucker. He had Jazz and Dad. And the ghost catcher, it was….it was broken. Although knowing Dad? With that man’s eagerness and determination, he’d find a way to fix it, come hell or high water. But still...there was the main issue.

“We need to talk to Mom.” Fenton said, following his thought.

The ghost paled. “I don’t...I don’t want to.”

“I know.” The human whispered, the word conveying the great depth of that knowledge. “I...I don’t want to either but we have to.”

“No we…” Phantom shook his head. “We can’t.”

Fenton bit his lip. “We need to, though.”

“But…No, I don’t...I don’t want to.” Fear wrapped a cold hand around the ghost’s core. “We can’t.” He whined.

The human’s voice rose slightly in heartfelt concern. “Phantom?”

“I...I can’t...I…” The ghost stuttered. “Fenton.... I’m scared.” Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around the human, clinging to him desperately for comfort.

Fenton returned the gesture without hesitation. “I know.” He was scared too, Phantom felt.

“What if…” she still thinks I’m a monster? What if I’m still wrong? What if the only reason I’m safe is because I look like her Danny? He couldn’t say the words, hardly think them but the thoughts buzzed anyway, stabbing at his core. And the last. What if, really, Mom loves Fenton but not me? The last question burned. Something like jealousy, a horrible, ugly feeling, rippled through him. What if she loves you but not me? It burned at him, this envy he’d felt before. And Phantom hated himself for it, even as he dared to think the thoughts.

“No.” Fenton squeezed him harder. “We are the same. If she doesn’t love you, she doesn’t really love me either. She loves who she thinks I am, and that’s not real.”

Yeah, that was right. That was true. Phantom let the feeling pass. Yes, he didn’t need to punish his other half with that jealousy. But he didn’t need to punish his current self for that feeling either. He needed to be kinder to both sides of him.

Both Dannys stayed like that for a long time, as the presence of his human slowly dulled the ghost’s fear. The feeling didn’t go away but...it was dampened, muted. Even so, it wasn’t enough to bolster Phantom’s courage.

Finally, Phantom pulled away. “I...I’m sorry.” He wrung his hands. “I...I can’t talk to her, not today.”

“Danny, if we keep putting this off…”

The ghost interrupted. “I know but...I just...I need some time to work up the courage. To think about what to say.”

The human sighed, giving his other half a deeply concerned look. "Okay."

Fenton didn't sound happy, understandably, but to the ghost's relief, he didn't press. The human probably figured it would do little more than start an argument and he would be right. The ghost didn't have it in him to budge, even if he knew what he should do, even with his human half's determination.

"I'm sorry too." Fenton leaned into his counterpart. "I hate that this is happening at all. But we'll be okay. We'll talk to her together. And maybe it won't be as bad as we think."

"Yeah." Phantom said passively. "I hope so."

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

The pair sat for a few minutes with no more words shared. Just turbulent emotions and a soft attempt at self soothing.

Downstairs, a door opened and closed.

Phantom looked up. "We should stop sulking." Floating off the bed, he rubbed the back of his neck. "I should probably apologize for blowing up on our parents."

"Yeah." Fenton said with a slight frown. He stood and gave an attempt at an encouraging smile.

With that, both Dannys left the room and walked towards the stairs. They paused at the top, looking over the livingroom and kitchen. Mom, Dad, and Jazz were standing around the table, talking in hushed voices.

The ghost nawed on his lip, the shadow of his stomach flopping. What were they talking about? Were they mad about how he reacted? Disappointed? What would they say if he went down there? Was he going to go down there? No. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t-

“Phantom.” His human half whispered. “It’s okay.” He put a comforting hand on the ghost’s arm and squeezed. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Numbly, Phantom nodded. “Yeah. I’m coming.”

The pair started down the stairs, Fenton’s feet stomping along the way. All at once, the room fell into silence as the other three family members looked at both boys. Keenly noticing his other self’s reddening face, the ghost blushed and looked away from his family. He couldn’t make eye contact, not after how he’d acted earlier and...not after what he’d said upstairs.

Coming to the bottom of the stairs, Fenton and Phantom stopped. There was tense silence for a moment, the room completely still. Until…

“Danny-boy.” Dad took big steps across the living room, his arms outstretched to embrace both halves of his son in a hug. A step away from the pair, he stopped and lowered his arms. His eyes widened and concern marred his features. “Oh, kiddo. Are you okay?”

Phantom frowned; clearly, he and Fenton didn’t look as put together as they were trying to look. “Fine.” He muttered, denying the truth.

At the same time, Fenton looked down. “Yeah.

Dad’s lips turned down, though his eyes shone with love. “Danny.” Something in the tone of his voice said he saw through the act. “I’m so sorry.” Without preamble, the man wrapped his large arms around both versions of his son. “I am so sorry son, about what happened to the ghost catcher. I’ll fix it, I swear.”

The words stung; they stung so bad but Phantom did believe them. He returned the hug, even if tentative. “I...I’m sorry I blew up on you guys. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“It’s okay, kiddo. I get it.” Dad comforted.

The ghost shook his head. “No it’s...I know it was an accident. You didn’t mean to do it. But you’ll…”

“We’ll fix it.” The man reassured. “Your mom and I will fix it. Or...we’ll make a new one. We’ll get you fixed up in no time.”

“Yeah.” Phantom said mildly.

Both Dannys and their Dad lingered in the hug for a long moment before pulling away. The ghost felt somewhat better after his father’s reassurance, especially that the man was not upset at his outburst. And then he looked up. For a second, he met his Mom’s violet eyes before she looked away.

Despite that, the woman stepped forward. “Danny.” She said softly, for once no anger or annoyance in her voice. “I promise we’ll remake the ghost catcher and have you re-fused before you know it.” She then sighed. “We should have been more careful with the invention but we’ve learned our lesson.” Mom took another step forward. She gently placed a hand on Fenton’s arms before hesitating on Phantom’s. After a too long second, she touched the ghost’s arm. “I swear to you,” She looked to Fenton and then Phantom, expression sincere. “We will fix this. We’ll get you back in one...back on one body.” Her gaze turned back to Fenton. “And then we’ll put all of this behind us.”

Phantom closed his eyes, biting his lip. Those words, they sounded so sincere, so loving. He should be comforted, he would be, except...His core still clinched, previous bitterness lingering. We’ll put all of this behind us, she said. As if they could, as if they even should. Things had changed, things would stay changed. Hadn’t he already talked to Mom and Dad about how Phantom, his powers, were not going to go away after they remerged? Or….maybe he was reading into things too much.

“Okay.” Fenton finally said, speaking for both of them. “We believe you and…” He glanced down muttering. “Thanks….thanks for not being mad about…”

He trailed off, peaking at Phantom who paled before attempting a glare at his counterpart. Really? Did he have to draw attention to that?

Fenton raised a brow, shrugging almost imperceptibly. Across from them, Mom looked between the two with a slight look of confusion before she furrowed her brow. “Oh sweetie, it’s fine. I understand you getting upset.” Despite the attempt at comfort, she sounded too nervous. The interaction quickly turned awkward as all eyes seemed intent on avoiding each other.

Across the living room, Jazz was glaring at both versions of her brother. She mouthed something, making a waving motion before Phantom vigorously shook his head. His sister’s eyes narrowed, her lips turning down in disappointment. Meanwhile, Dad looked vaguely confused, obviously trying to decipher the silent conversation between his children.

Then, after a long pause, Mom took a step back. “Anyway, your father and I need to get cleaned up.” She motioned to her soiled jumpsuit, earning a frown from both Dannys. “We’ll make some lunch and then…” Her glaze flickered back towards the door to the lab.

“No.” Jazz crossed her arms. “You are not going back in the lab today.”

Mom turned sharply, narrowing her eyes at the tone. “Jasmine.”

The girl held out her arms, undeterred by the use of her full name. “You guys have been working yourselves to the bone. You need a break.”

“We need to be working on remaking the ghost catcher.” The woman countered.

“You need to rest.” Jazz pleaded. “You and Dad have been exhausting yourselves. Danny and I can see how tired and stressed you’ve been. And well this morning….” The girl trialed off, biting her lip.

Phantom gave his sister a wary look; they all knew what she was referring to but to the ghost’s relief, Jazz didn’t go into it. His gaze then flickered between his parents. Though Mom did look vaguely annoyed at being told what to do by her teenage daughter, she was clearly stressed and tired. And Dad….the bags under his eyes and the sag of his shoulders said it all.

Dad sighed. “That is true; we’ve been over doing it but...” He glanced at Fenton and Phantom. “Fixing the ghost catcher is very important.”

Phantom frowned; there was a weight to the statement, an undertone of guilt, a desperation even. It wasn’t about fixing the ghost catcher but what that action would accomplice, the mistake it would correct. Part of him, the impatient part, wanted to agree; fixing the device so he could re-merge was the most important thing in his world right now. And he was so tired and waiting and being unable to do anything. Even the thought of adding a day to his wait felt agonizing but…

Jazz was looking at him expectly. And Phantom knew he couldn’t be selfish; he knew what he needed to say. “Yeah it is but...Jazz is right. You guys need a break before you hurt yourselves. The ghost catcher can...we can wait a day.”

Dad raised a brow, looking at the ghost version of his son. “Are you sure?”

Phantom blushed, looking down. “Yeah, of course.”

Guilt lashed out at him. Was him coping badly really having this much of an effect on his parents, driving them to work harder and harder to fix him to the point of exhaustion?

He shook his head, Fenton’s memory of talking to Sam and Tucker running through his head. He didn’t need to think like that. He didn’t need to look put together for his loved ones. And anyway...how they reacted wasn’t on him. He couldn’t control what Mom and Dad thought and did.

Finally Mom agreed with a sigh. “Alright. We’ll take a break today.” She started taking off her gloves. “I still need a shower.”

“And some food!” Dad piped up with a grin.

“Then maybe we can play a board game together.” Jazz added, a satisfied smile growing on her face.

Phantom blanched, glancing at his human who wore an identical look. Please, not board games. Not when he was unsure of his ability to interact with Mom for any length of time without saying something he’d regret.

His sister rolled her eyes. “Fine. We can watch a movie then.”

“Sounds good to me, Jazzrincess.” Dad said, already walking towards the kitchen.

At the same time, Mom walked towards the master bed and bathroom. A moment later, Jazz followed the man into the kitchen, leaving Fenton and Phantom standing in the living room. The pair looked at each other, nebulous worry and unease drifting between the two pieces of their mind.

Phantom sighed, not looking forward to the rest of the day.

Fenton shook his head. “Maybe they’ll let us pick the movie.”

“Oh joy. Like that’ll help.” The ghost muttered unhelpfully.

The human rolled his eyes. “Come on. I actually do wanna get some lunch.” He walked towards the kitchen and Phantom followed.

#Danny Phantom #Face To Face #Ghost Catcher #split danny #double danny #My fic #danny fenton

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iamfandom00 · 4 years

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[some of] you asked for it, so here’s more unhinged danny phantom commentary

season 1 ep 13/production code 015: "fright night" - this is The Halloween Episode, so naturally it had to be shoved into the October 29 air slot. I was scared cuz i forgot for a sec that i had this in drafts instead of just on my laptop but its all good now

- cool design on the eel

- holy shit dash takes no prisoners lol

- is this deal legal tho? like, idk if i trust the other kids to not tattle to faculty, and breaking zero tolerance in favor of an even worse idea...

- wait why didn’t they go with fright knight with a k for the title? that’s totally in line with their whole thing

- danny uses his powers for a lot of fairly mundane things and honestly yes.

- tucker is unimpressed

- oooo shit! the lore turns out to be real!

surely the ghosts themselves have given it a better name than ghost zone, right? what do they call it?

- wait whos klemper

- so... your idea... is to go "visit" a ghost... the spirit of halloween... the spirit of being scared fucking shitless... and ask him to give some pointers on how to decorate your haunted house well enough to avoid detention?

- oh. alright then. youre just gonna... recreate his room

- workout idea: binge this series and do a squat for every time danny makes a bad decision, not under any particular duress, able to think it through, etc., and every time his parents or jazz come in and make the scene awkward do a wall sit or plank and hold it for the duration of whatever scene is in question.

- ah. predictably, we cut to the fenton portal

- you do understand how this situation isn’t really so desperate as to warrant this death wish of a mission, right?

- great idea, get closer to the purple pumpkin with the glowing sword

- "which means it’ll scare the pAhants off of lancer" the voice actor is gold i swear to god

- it may sound like im just ripping on dp but i have a tendency to pause stuff anyway and think out my thoughts/commentate in my head. this is why im doing this

- but like serious note i fuckin love this, i love these characters. it’s a really good show and i need it like i need air

- okay but back to the commentary you really just took the sword didn’t you? think stuff through tho my dude ffs kid

- "i’ll bring it back" KID OH MY GOD PLEASE JUST PUT IT BACK AND GET SOME NERD TO LEND YOU HIS PROP FOR A [k]NIGHT

- +1 plank

- or maybe you don’t worry enough

- "whats the worst that could happen" just for that, +5 squats

- jelloapocalypse

- "soul-shredder" are we sure this isnt an anime in disguise??

- is tucker always this dense

- he bounce

- danny youre supposed to be the good guy

- GOD the animations good

- okay in the fight scene it feels a little off model. hopefully it didn’t just get rushed through production

- however the action sequences are BADASS

- oh come on dude you KNOW his parents are weirdos, you can’t just revoke the win like that >>:C

- all in all: v spoopy, very good story

- end of episode question: who’s your favorite ghost?

#danny phantom #fright night #episode thoughts #commentary #original content #oc

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ladylynse · 4 years

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Part 8 [FF | AO3] of Whirlwind: Jake should be used to ominous predictions by now. Randy should know better than to blindly follow McFist. Adrien should think twice before sneaking away. And Danny should’ve expected something like this when he got that phone call. (Secret Quartet crossover)

(previous | timeline post)

-|-

7:12 PM

Blood magic.

He hadn’t counted on being lucky enough to find someone with blood magic.

Fortunately, Gabriel didn’t need to recall his akuma to glean information from his champion. He still had all she had given him before she had shut him out. Whether she realized it or not, he had more than enough to discern her identity. He knew exactly what she’d been feeling. He knew precisely why she’d been feeling that way. And that meant that finding her name was as simple as having Nathalie check their records.

“The head caterer is Susan Long,” Nathalie reported at last. “She owns the company. I’m sending you all the information we have on her, but I’m afraid it’s very little.”

That was an understatement; the information was next to nothing. Even her business address was unlisted. Nathalie had told him of her reputation as a caterer, told him that she was in high demand and had handled large, premiere events before. Her food was always impeccable, and she came highly recommended. Still, while he could appreciate that a certain amount of secrecy was necessary in business, particularly where sensitive information was at hand, that didn’t mean he didn’t find this frustrating.

Given what he knew now, however, he didn’t find it unusual.

“Find out more,” Gabriel growled into his headset. “Pull every string you can. I don’t care what it costs in promises or favours.”

“Of course, sir.”

Gabriel knew perfectly well that he was taking Nathalie from other work, and he knew that the excuses she’d given regarding his current preoccupation wouldn’t be enough for long—this was his show, and he was expected to have input on what to do now that it had been ruined—but he wasn’t willing to lose this when it was within his grasp. The meetings to discuss the damage that had been done and setting the contingency plans in motion and even something as simple as crowd control— They didn’t need him for all of that. If they wouldn’t settle for his final word, they could be content with his input at the end, once they’d hashed out all the needless details that had mostly been written out before he’d stepped foot on this side of the ocean anyway. Really, Nathalie could make it so that it didn’t matter when he put in his appearance providing he did put one in. They would easily believe he had important work that demanded privacy, given how much money he’d had to sink into this venture.

It was going to pay off, though. Even if he couldn’t find another Miraculous, he could find power. This wasn’t something he’d trust to Audrey Bourgeois. He’d very pointedly not involved her in any of this and had planned for this trip to neatly coincide with a time when he knew she was elsewhere. She was too prone to go digging for secrets for his taste, especially when she thought she could benefit from the result. The last thing he needed was for her to discover how much power he already had, let alone that he had reason to suspect there was more to be found here.

“Master,” Nooroo said as Gabriel strode back to look out the window of his private suite, “we shouldn’t pursue this.”

“I don’t recall asking your opinion.”

“I’m sorry, Master, but I—”

“Be quiet, Nooroo.”

Gabriel didn’t want to hear Nooroo’s fears again. Vague, dire warnings meant nothing. He was willing to take risks for concrete rewards, to further his ultimate goal. This was why they had come. He needed something to tip the scales in his favour. Something Ladybug and Chat Noir would never expect and wouldn’t be able to counter.

Chat Noir’s appearance here would be much more unsettling if he thought for a moment the heroes actually suspected his identity, but he was certain it was nothing but unlucky coincidence.

Well, perhaps more unlucky for Chat Noir than for him.

He’d been trying to separate Ladybug and Chat Noir for ages. He was hardly blind to the opportunity of defeating Chat Noir now, in a foreign city where he didn’t have the support of the people or his knowledge of the Parisian streets to help him out. Where his only ally was some self-proclaimed ninja from another town as opposed to Ladybug, who knew how he fought and worked altogether too well with him. Success was a tantalizingly real possibility. If he could return to Paris with the Miraculous of the Black Cat….

He still needed the other information he’d requested, and Dracona couldn’t avoid giving it to him forever. But even if she might claim that she couldn’t provide any information about the phantom or the ninja because they didn’t call New York City home any more than Chat Noir did, she had agreed to tell him about those who did.

Even if she didn’t consider herself a hero, it was highly unlikely that she didn’t know any personally. She had magic. He knew how rare that was. And magic that she was born with? Magic that didn’t need to be stolen or harnessed?

She would be able to tell him so much, once he knew enough to nudge her past the point of silence.

Once their connection was re-established and he could talk to her again, if not control her.

If Nooroo’s magic didn’t pose enough of a threat to make her fear him, he could find more mundane ways to turn her to him.

He knew she had a son. Whatever she had felt in the moment that he had been able to akumatize her, he was sure she would still love him, care for him, even with those emotions amplified. She wouldn’t have been so upset if she didn’t. At the very least, the mix of emotions which had been at the forefront would have been different.

And if he could use her family against her, well, perhaps that would be enough to spark her memory. To remind her of whoever truly did seek to protect this city. And if it didn’t, well, he could experiment with harnessing blood magic as easily as he could search for a magical artefact to use in the fight against Ladybug and Chat Noir. As long as his akuma remained in her necklace, he’d still have ties to her, even if he couldn’t make her dance on command.

He could make sure anything was enough.

-|-

7:12 PM

“I don’t know what to do, Plagg,” Adrien admitted once they were back in his hotel room. Getting in hadn’t been as tricky as he’d expected; Nathalie was preoccupied, no doubt in conversation with his father and their contacts over the mess of the launch, and the Gorilla was busy listening to whatever the police were telling the security services. With the way things were going, he’d be lucky if he saw his father even once during the remainder of their trip. The bulk of the organizing might fall on Nathalie’s shoulders, but the ultimate decision-making still rested with Gabriel, and—

One thing at a time. The akuma was more pressing; until Adrien dealt with that, planning for anything else was irrelevant.

Plagg was currently trying to gorge himself on camembert. The concierge had procured an impressive supply to be sent to his room, and Adrien would have to leave him a large tip when he next saw him. As it was, Adrien was talking to Plagg as much out of a desire for advice as a need to slow the kwami down long enough for Adrien to pocket the rest of the cheese before it was completely devoured. “Should I trust these guys?”

Plagg swallowed and zipped over to the last wedge of cheese Adrien had left for him. He picked it up, but before he ate it, he looked at Adrien and asked, “Are you ready to fight Hawk Moth on your own?”

No. He wasn’t. Plagg knew that.

“Maybe I should call Ladybug. Maybe she knows of some way—”

“She doesn’t,” Plagg interrupted, “and even if she did, she’s asleep. If Hawk Moth’s here, no one’s getting akumatized in Paris.”

“Right.” Adrien glanced at the clock on the bedside table; it was past one in the morning in Paris right now. “But these guys…. I don’t know if I can do this. I mean…. It’s not that I didn’t think ghosts might be real or that a different magic than yours could exist. It’s more….” It was more that he couldn’t forget the feeling of falling. The terror that had flooded into him when he had realized he didn’t even have his staff to try to slow himself down. He’d been flung away numerous times in his fights with Ladybug, but this was different. She wasn’t here to watch his back. He couldn’t fight his way back to watch hers.

And there was no distant assurance that if something terrible did happen, something Plagg’s magic couldn’t prevent, Ladybug would be able to restore everything to the way it had been.

“It’s scary,” Plagg said frankly, “but it’s not the first time you’ve been scared.”

No, it wasn’t. But he was usually more terrified of losing Ladybug than he was of anything that might happen to him.

“I never expected that Hawk Moth would be here,” continued Plagg. “No one would. And the fact that you’re here at the same time is lucky. You know how he works and what he wants. You know—”

“He can’t have known that I’d be here,” Adrien interrupted, “which means that what he wants isn’t just my Miraculous. So is…is there a lost Miraculous or something? One that might be here?”

Plagg didn’t answer right away. “There is,” he finally said, “but it’s more likely that Hawk Moth is after something else. Finding a lost Miraculous would be a nearly impossible task, even for someone like Hawk Moth. Like I said before, there’s other magic at work here, and that shop we were in earlier was steeped in it. Rumours of that would be more substantial than anything about the Miraculous.”

“The dragons. You think he wants something they guard?” Adrien didn’t wait for Plagg to answer. “Then I can’t not work with them. I can’t risk Hawk Moth stealing and using something of theirs that I won’t know anything about—that you might not know anything about.” And Phantom had grabbed him after he’d glimpsed the first dragon, so his claim that he was friends with one was more likely truth than a lie. “I need them as much as they need me.”

“So call them. You don’t have to trust them with everything right away.”

That was true enough. Even if he did decide to trust them fully in the end, if only to make things easier, he certainly didn’t have to be the first one to spill all his secrets. Not that there was much they didn’t already know about him, assuming Phantom had talked to the others.

He definitely didn’t need to let them know where he was staying, though. He’d call them once he was back out, meet them somewhere that wasn’t quite the opposite direction of his actual hotel. He didn’t want to head too far away—he didn’t know when the dragon would return—but he didn’t want to pick a spot that would be too crowded if this was somehow a setup and he had to fight.

Then again, he might not have to pick the spot at all. “Plagg,” he whispered, “do you think you’d be able to find them? The dragon from the shop, at least?”

“Can I have more camembert first?”

“Once this is over. I promise.”

Plagg let out a long-suffering sigh but agreed. Adrien didn’t question his luck at the lack of wheedling, instead pulling his hood back up and waiting as Plagg zipped in to hide again. The first step was sneaking back out past Nathalie and the Gorilla. If they caught him and insisted he stay in his hotel room, sneaking out wouldn’t be the difficult part; it would be coming up with some reason that he wasn’t there when someone inevitably checked up on him.

But that would only be a problem if he got caught, and Adrien didn’t intend to get caught.

He cracked his door, listening as much as looking to make sure the coast was clear, and then he slipped into the hallway and headed for the stairwell, quiet as a cat.

-|-

7:16 PM

Rotwood ducked into another alley and ground his teeth. Insolent children! They should not treat him this way. He was their professor. And it wasn’t like he hunted Jake Long at every opportunity. Really, this time, it wouldn’t even be him. He would not be so foolish as to be caught on camera. (Rotwood knew this all too well; he had tried many, many times.) Would it really be so bad if Jake let him have this one moment? This one little tiny moment where he could shine?

Rotwood had already tried offering his expertise on the situation. Called up the local news station the moment he heard. He was still laughed off before he could even make it to the air. It wasn’t his fault Jake had given him a reputation that made it seem like he cried wolf when he didn’t.

How much of a laughingstock had he become that no one listened to him even when the magical creatures he had previously told them about turned up?

It was like no one was taking this seriously. No one except for those who already knew, of course. Why was there all this speculation that the dragon wasn’t real? Of course the dragon was real! Dragons were real! Just like ghosts! And a whole slew of other magical creatures most people hadn’t even imagined, let alone had the chance to meet.

Rotwood waited, hoping to hear the telltale shhhck of skateboard wheels on pavement.

It did not come.

How was he supposed to get closer to his goal—on foot, since some hooligans had let the air out of his tires, including his bicycle tires—when he couldn’t even shake a pair of high schoolers? It would be different if the traffic weren’t generally atrocious and the cab drivers, for some reason, didn’t remember him as ‘that crazy man from TV’. He did not deserve that reputation. Sure, he had made a few mistakes, everyone made mistakes, and maybe he had released some creatures he shouldn’t have in his quest to prove their existence, but it wasn’t like he was trying do that this time.

Really, Jake should thank him. He wasn’t meddling. He wasn’t meddling at all. He was merely trying to document. Would it not be better if someone like him did that, rather than someone Jake didn’t know at all? Certainly better him than someone like Brock, no?

He had tried yelling such arguments at Trixie and Spud, but they of course didn’t listen to a word he said.

He would have been much happier, however, if Trixie had not had a water gun with her. Or if Spud did not manage to play the most incessant earworms at full volume whenever he pulled out his phone to try to call anyone. Or—

“Yo, Rotwood, you ready to give up yet?”

It was, unfortunately, rather unprofessional to murder one’s students. He’d have to lose them. If he kept trying, he’d manage it eventually. He had to.

“Me and Spud, we can do this all night if we have to. But if you give up and go home now, your feet might not even hurt in the morning.”

The stitch in his side hadn’t had nearly enough time to go away, but there was nothing for it. He’d have to run again and hope that, this time, he was able to reach the edge of the crowd. They wouldn’t be able to use their skateboards in a crowd.

Of course, since they were on skateboards, it was increasingly unlikely that he’d make it to the crowd.

“Do we really have to go now?” a man’s voice whined, and Rotwood’s heart leapt when he realized how close it was. A distraction! He could use a distraction.

“Honey, there might not have been an official announcement yet, but the show won’t go on tonight, and I do intend to eat supper,” a woman answered. “It has been rather stressful. A three-course meal—”

The man groaned, and Rotwood moved before they got farther away. He jumped out from his hiding spot behind a dumpster and managed to get past Trixie and Spud, both of whom had quieted their own search while waiting for the couple to pass. They didn’t want witnesses. They didn’t want to explain themselves. Good. He would put himself in a position where they would have to do both if they continued to chase him.

“Excuse me!” he called out, waiving. They’d just passed the alleyway, and they kept walking. The nerve! He expected as much from New Yorkers, who didn’t even blink at things that should catch their attention, but tourists were supposed to be curious. “Yes, hello, behind you!”

They slowed, each of them glancing over their shoulders, but neither stopped.

Rotwood kept waving like a madman. He didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know he’d see two scowling teenagers. “Could you possibly give me some directions?”

“Oh, we don’t know the area,” the woman said with another quick glance back as she tightened her grip on the man’s arm. “I’m so sorry.”

“But you are dressed for that fashion show gala tonight, no?” He tried to remember the information that had been on the news. “The spring release?” What was the name? “Gabriel’s?”

The couple finally stopped, turning to him as he jogged up. The woman was looking at him with narrowed eyes. The man just looked exhausted.

Rotwood figured his best bet was to keep talking. “I heard what happened. Terrible. These magical creatures—” He broke off, remembering too late that telling the truth wouldn’t win him any favours. “They made a good show, those magical creatures?”

He hadn’t managed to keep the note of desperation out of his voice, but the man at least was looking him over with a more critical eye. “Marci,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet, “why don’t you go on and have dinner without me?”

For the first time, Rotwood noticed the man’s mechanical arm, and he had to make a conscious effort not to stare. He was well acquainted with those with prosthetic limbs, especially in his line of business which really wasn’t the safest, were you to actually find the magical creatures you were searching for, but most did not include features which looked disturbingly like brains. He pointedly raised his eyes to wait for Marci’s reaction. She kept a smile pasted on her face, but its edges were sharper than they should be.

“This isn’t a working vacation,” she said. “We should take our meals together.”

That didn’t stop the man from pressing several hundred-dollar bills into her hand. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, but this man needs help, and I do know the way.”

“No such thing as a free lunch, don’tcha know?” Marci murmured, but she tucked the money into her handbag. “You’ll answer your phone when I call.”

Even Rotwood knew that wasn’t a question.

“Of course, sugar plum,” the man cooed. “You can go and have a nice meal, and I’ll help, uh—”

“Professor Hans Rotwood.”

“—I’ll help Hans here.”

Rotwood knew pleading when he saw it. That was definitely pleading. If Marci said no, the man—presumably her husband—would acquiesce to her wishes. He could not afford for that to happen. Once they left, Ms. Carter and Mr. Spudinski would jump at the opportunity to overwhelm him, most likely quite literally, and he was still sore from his excursions last week trying to get a clear shot of a leprechaun. He didn’t need the added pain of hitting asphalt under the force of two teenaged bodies.

“That really would be most appreciated,” Rotwood added, not sure what he needed to say to sway Marci. “If there’s anything I could do in return….” He trailed off, unable to think of anything to offer someone who could so clearly not only afford to attend such a prestigious event but also to spend so much money on a single meal.

“We can talk about that,” the man said hurriedly.

The woman took a step closer to her husband, half turning away from Rotwood, and hissed words he heard but didn’t understand: “You know the Ninja we saw here can’t be the same one as back home.”

“He might have information,” the man answered in a too-loud whisper. “Please, you know how important this is.”

Marci sighed and stepped back. “Of course I do. If you’re so insistent that your work is more important than I am—”

“It’s not. This is just…. It’s…. You know what it is!”

Rotwood was convinced the argument was lost then and there, but Marci’s face softened and she leaned down to give her husband a quick kiss. “Yes, I do, so if you must do some work, then run along and do it quickly. You are not spoiling this for me.”

Rotwood was still trying to figure out how the man could have possibly gotten his way while the couple said their goodbyes, and it was a moment before he realized the man was staring at him. “Ah, my apologies,” he said. “You were saying?”

“Hannibal McFist,” the man said, offering his hand. As Rotwood shook it, McFist continued, “You said you’re a professor. You don’t have any colleagues at MSU, by any chance? Or attended it for one degree or another?”

MSU? Michigan State University? Rotwood hadn’t pegged McFist’s accent as being from that part of the country, and it certainly hadn’t been his wife’s, though in truth, he really wasn’t that good with accents, especially American ones. “No, my position is, ah, merely at a high school level these days, and my alma mater is in the old country.”

McFist grunted. “Had to ask. You look like the type who’d have been friends with Viceroy. If you didn’t annoy each other to death first.”

Rotwood didn’t ask. The important thing was that McFist was walking with him past the alley containing two teenagers who couldn’t stop him without making fools of themselves and giving away the game. He kept up the conversation instead, trying to get what information he could out of McFist without making it clear what he dearly wanted to know, as that would be the fastest way to find himself abandoned and once again at the mercy of merciless teenagers.

-|-

7:19 PM

Randy was pretty sure Jake was going to drive himself crazy. Or maybe that was just his sister doing it. She seemed nice enough, for a little kid, but she also made him happy that he was an only child. He was pretty sure her supposedly innocent needling was totally intentional.

Judging by Jake’s expression, he figured the same.

“Haley, I told you what’s going on,” Jake said, not attempting to keep the exasperation from his voice. “You know how bad this is, so just…stop. Please.”

Haley’s face transformed into what Randy was sure was a practiced pout. “I’m only trying to help.”

“Yo, stressing me out by pointing out all my failures isn’t helping.”

“Look,” Randy said slowly, figuring he should say something but speaking before he’d entirely decided what that should be, “when I was fighting the dragon, she wasn’t, um, trying to barbecue me. That’s probably a point in her favour. The Critic lady from earlier pulled a lot of shoob moves. She didn’t care if she fought dirty. If Chat Noir and I hadn’t had each other’s backs, she’d have wonked our cheese. But the dragon…. Danny said he thought she was testing me. Teasing out my attacks and strengths and stuff.”

“So?” Haley prompted.

Randy frowned at her. “So that’s more than what the other lady was doing when she got butterflied. She went straight to attack mode.”

“Yeah, but Mom’s had all the training, even if being a dragon skipped her generation,” Haley said. “She knows how to fight. She’s not going to throw strategy out the window, and learning what you can do before fighting you is smart.”

All the training…. No wonder she’d been so good at flying right off the bat. Randy had just assumed it was magic. Maybe it still was, but magic plus lessons made sense.

“So none of that’s from this Hawk Moth person,” Haley continued. “That’s just Mom. I mean, Jake’s not the best example of what we dragons can do, but he should have been able to give you some idea.”

Randy was really getting a good idea of why Jake had told him that Haley was a know-it-all.

“Oh, c’mon, you know I just met this guy tonight,” Jake interjected, gesturing at Randy.

“Yeah, him and this Chat Noir, only you messed that up, too, didn’t you?”

“Haley!”

“Why didn’t you ask me for help earlier?”

“Because you do stuff like this!” snapped Jake. “We both know you’re not perfect, and you’re not better than me at everything, so stop pretending you wouldn’t have made mistakes, too, if you were in my shoes.”

“But you knew this was going to be bad. Sara told you, and Kara said you’d have help.”

“She said from my friends, not my little sister.”

“Being friends doesn’t have to exclude me!”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Yo, you think I—?”

“Hope I’m not interrupting a vital family argument,” a voice said from behind them all.

Randy wasn’t the only one who jumped and spun in a circle before remembering to look up. The voice had come from behind and up. Sure enough, Chat Noir was perched on a pole that jutted out about five feet above their heads from the side of a building and into an alleyway. Randy squinted. That was the staff Chat Noir had fought with earlier. It could do that?

“How did you find us?” Jake asked, and Randy didn’t need to know him well to hear the panic in his voice. “I thought you were gonna call!”

Chat Noir dropped lightly to his feet, one hand reaching out to catch the staff as it fell. He didn’t even need to look at it to catch it, collapse it, and slide it in place on his back. Magic. It must be. Or a lot of practice.

“I have a friend with a good sense of smell,” he said.

“My smoke bombs do not stink that badly,” Randy insisted, forgetting for the moment that he wasn’t currently wearing his suit.

Chat Noir blinked. “Ninja?”

“Randy.” He pointed at the dragon siblings and said, “That’s Jake and Haley.” Jake shot Randy a glare but didn’t say anything, instead tapping his Fenton Phone and letting Danny know that Chat Noir had found them. Ignoring him, Randy continued, “Their mom’s the one who’s been butterflied.”

“Akumatized,” Chat Noir corrected. “And I know. I mean. I guessed. From what Phantom told me and, um….” He trailed off and must have abandoned that thought entirely, since he instead asked, “Where’s the akuma hiding?”

“Her necklace,” Randy said, happy enough to roll with the subject change because it was a pretty important subject change. Even with different names, what was happening to people didn’t seem terribly different than what he was used to dealing with. He knew it wasn’t the same, but the idea of it was similar enough to stanking that it made whatever Chat Noir must do on a regular basis easy for Randy to follow. “It’s still on her, even when she’s a dragon. It just…adjusted with her, I guess? It doesn’t look like she’s being strangled by it.”

Chat Noir was nodding. “Hawk Moth can cause pain to those who disobey him, but he wouldn’t hinder their transformation.”

“What about the person being transformed?” Haley asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Can they do something?”

“We’ve only ever seen Hawk Moth change people who agree to it,” Chat Noir said. Randy almost asked who we was and then remembered that the Critic had taunted him about not having his partner around. “And the transformation…. It’s not something they negotiate. That’s all Hawk Moth’s domain.”

Haley glanced back at Jake, who was still talking to Danny. “But…. My mom’s different.”

“She really…probably…is,” Randy offered. “Me, I just use something that’s magic. Maybe you do, too. These guys are…different.”

“I know,” Chat Noir said quietly as Jake rejoined their circle. “That’s…. That’s why I’m worried. Hawk Moth can’t have known I’d be here. He wants my Miraculous, but that’s not why he’s active. He’s looking for something. Maybe another Miraculous that was lost, maybe something else.”

Jake frowned. “Aren’t there only, like, seven of those?”

Chat Noir didn’t confirm that, and Randy wasn’t great at reading faces, but he was pretty sure that was a no. And that Chat Noir didn’t particularly appreciate Jake’s comment. Maybe he thought Jake was pretending to be an authority on the subject of these Miraculous things? Randy might not know much, but he knew Jake definitely wasn’t.

Or maybe it was just that these guys hadn’t exactly gotten off on the right foot, and that was something Randy could smooth over. “Point is, their mom getting akuma matated or whatever you said is bad, and we could really use your help to fix things.” He bit his lip, already feeling that Chat Noir wouldn’t appreciate his next suggestion, and added, “Even if you don’t wanna tell us your real name, you might wanna lose the suit. Just so we can, y’know, blend in with the crowd when we search. It’s not like we’d tell anyone your identity when we’re all trying to keep the same secret.”

“And I already know what you look like without your mask,” Jake added.

“So does your Phantom friend,” muttered Chat Noir, not quietly enough that he didn’t intend for them to hear it.

“That’s Danny,” Randy said. “He also gets the secret identity thing.”

Chat Noir frowned. “He’s a ghost.”

Randy shrugged. “Only some of the time.”

Haley spun to her brother. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she hissed, and he shushed her. Unsuccessfully. They started arguing again. Randy tuned them out, figuring Danny would show up sooner rather than later anyway, and he could settle things easily enough.

“You’ve gotta admit,” Randy said to Chat Noir, “that you’re not exactly inconspicuous in that getup.”

“I’m not exactly inconspicuous without it, either,” mumbled Chat Noir, though that made no sense to Randy. The Critic lady had said this was a foreign country for him, so it’s not like he’d actually know anyone here or that anyone would know him. Even if he was visiting relatives, chances were they didn’t know his secret, so there was nothing wrong with them seeing him without his mask. He’d be as thoroughly unremarkable to this crowd as Randy was. No one was going to look at him twice. But in that cat getup? After fighting earlier? Someone was bound to look again, even in a city this big.

“C’mon, the others already know what you look like. It’s just me, and I’m not from here, either. If that makes you feel any better. I mean, I’m still trying to figure out how I’m going to get home when this is over, so….”

Chat Noir sighed and walked back toward the alley. Randy followed, more to get farther away from the squabbling siblings than anything else. “Claws in,” Randy heard Chat Noir whisper when he was out of easy sight, and the boy tugged the hood of his sweater farther forward before turning around.

Yup.

Unremarkable.

Randy didn’t even need to see his face out of shadow to know that much. “Got a name?” he asked.

Chat Noir hesitated.

Randy didn’t miss Chat Noir’s glance in the direction of Jake and Haley. Quick as it had been, Chat Noir’s continued silence spoke volumes for him. “Just tell me the name of your best friend for now,” Randy suggested, even though it wasn’t like any of them would be able to figure out Chat Noir’s identity from his first name alone even if they wanted to. “That way, you’ll remember what we’re calling you, and you can tell us your real name later if you want.”

Chat Noir smiled. It was small, but it was still a smile, so Randy figured that was a win. “Call me Nino.”

(see more fics | next)

#secret quartet #miraculous ladybug #adjl #rc9gn #danny phantom #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #crossover snippets #let's see who's still reading this fic #only 23 notes on my last chapter so it's definitely dropped off #(plus 11 reviews between two sites so not bad)#which is understandable because it's been a while

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pokelolmc · 3 years

Text

Ectoberweek Day 2: (Pulse)

Sadly, my Ectoberweek submissions are a few days behind because of...pesonal reasons. This is what happens when I wing it last-minute, I guess (also, this one turned out much longer than I anticipated).

This one is also a crossover, with Doctor Who (featuring the Ninth Doctor), but hopefully it’s not too much trouble to get the gist of if you haven’t seen it:

ff.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13729906/2/EctoberWeek-2020-Collection

‘A faint spectre of a familiar wheezing noise—something roughly halfway between an electric train engine and some contraption from the mind of H.G Wells—drifted through Danny’s window, bolting him unceremoniously up off of his bed in a messy paradox of fear and excitement. A quick ghost-aided hop out of the second-floor window landed Danny safely onto the manicured lawn of his backyard with nary a giveaway crunch of grass. He leapt into a hurried sprint out to his front yard and down the footpath, a prayer on his lips that Jazz—or, god forbid, his parents—wouldn’t find it odd he locked his bedroom door for something as mundane as an alleged “nap”.

He couldn’t tell them why he was leaving, not without admitting a secret he dreaded they wouldn’t understand.

He sadly had little justification to convince him they would, considering the misery of the past hellish year that slipped by his hitherto closest loved ones completely unnoticed, let alone understood. The only person who could understand his discomfort was a once-stranger who had properly noticed, pulled him back to his feet and saved him when everyone else couldn’t.

For someone as guarded in lies as Danny, the hefty pile of trust he invested in the Doctor after only half a year still continually stunned him…

…For all the time that he had been a halfa, Danny adamantly ignored the implications of his own modified biology. As he zeroed his focus in on his early superhero-esque impression of the outcome, the notion of becoming something not entirely human sat tightly folded and stuffed into the belly of his mental closet where it could no longer hurt him—out of sight, out of mind. The notion of an otherworldly, freakish creature—one of the only two on the entire planet—alone amongst a crowd of normal humans, ready to tear him apart should they find out he was not one of their kind…

It reared its ugly head out of depths of his psyche in his nightmares.

An unfortunate doubt had burrowed its deep way into his heart that, no matter how well his family and friends knew him, the intricacies of his situation were impossible for them to understand— unlike him, they all remained fully human…powerless, mundane, living without fear of being found out as something else… Vlad, for all that he was Danny’s fellow in physical nature, remained his moral opposite. Danny lost count of just how many times that broken record had replayed his denial of Plasmius’s contemptible deal to the stubborn maniac. By all accounts, he should’ve had no one to turn to.

However, for all of the paranoid secrecy that lodged the topic close to the vest, Danny felt fare more at ease breaching it with the Doctor, minus the unpleasantness of the touchy subject matter tasting bitter in his mouth…

…“…Something wrong?”

“Can we talk about it inside...?”

The Doctor nodded carefully, letting Danny into the vast exterior of the disguised time machine and locking the door behind him.

The teenager shuffled in as the Doctor paced to a cooler bag resting beyond the edge of the main console to grab a drink for them both, returning to break his companion’s awkward silence.

“I assume this is something difficult, then?”

“Well…yeah.” Danny responded pathetically, rubbing the back of his neck as he averted the man’s gaze. “It kind of occurred to me earlier, but I’ve never wanted to think about it…”

Those ancient eyes pierced immediately into him.

“Does it have to do with your family?”

“No!” he stammered hastily, “It’s just…”

His throat moved as if possessed, his voice lowering carefully from a reflex honed for reasons he wished never had to be.

“I…what do I do? …What if people find out what I am?”…

The Doctor’s eyes blinked almost owlishly for such a scant second that Danny wasn’t even sure if he had just been imagining it, before his features schooled into a pensive frown.

“Oh…”

“I can’t take it! I told myself I was normal, still normal, forever…but I’m just deluding myself!” his hands clenched tightly into shaking fists by his sides, “I’ll never be a normal human like everyone else again! I have powers they don’t; DNA that’s different to theirs—how different is my body, even, to a normal human’s?! How much physical, undeniable proof is there that I’m not normal?! Have I got some sort of freaky biology that would set me apart from everyone in a hospital—that as soon as they took a look at me, they’d know I wasn’t like them?! A monster?! A weird thing that needs to be locked up?! What am I supposed to do when everyone finds out that I’m some freak?! How…how can I live with something like that?!”…

…“Danny, there’s nothing ‘freakish’ about being other than human; normalcy is in the eye of the beholder.”

Danny’s gaze sank to the floor, fighting a losing battle to keep his face restrained, eyes dodging away from the Doctor as he put a hand on the teen’s shoulder.

“You say that…but you don’t know what people are like.”

“Oh, I think a good 700 years of being acquainted with Earth had made sure I know.” The Doctor scoffed.

“You don’t know what being human is like! You don’t know what I’ve lost!” ripped itself from Danny’s trembling throat.

“I don’t, I’ll admit that—but for all it’s worth, why does it have to be something to mourn? There’s nothing wrong with having biology different to a human’s, and that’s not going to change what you’re worth or take away your ability to find a place to call your own.”

“What about my parents and the people in town? Even Tucker and Sam, forgetting what they already know, would still find me weird if they found out how deep it went! It would matter to them!”

“—You already know I’m not human; you just said so.” the Doctor replied simply.

“Do you think it would matter to me?”

Danny choked on a dumbfounded stutter.

“I…I don’t know.”

The older of the duo tapped a hand on Danny’s shoulder, trying to coax the younger’s gaze upwards, with a thoughtful pause…

“Danny, did you know I have two hearts?”

Danny snapped up to look him in the eye.

“It’s true!” the alien crowed in mock defence, “You must’ve forgotten if you don’t remember! I’m sure I’ve mentioned it at least once!”

A cocked brow from the boy told him to return to seriousness, “For all I look like a human to you, Danny, Time Lord biology has quite a few major differences on the inside; mainly, two hearts—additionally, also a respiratory bypass system in the same area. It’s quite useful in situations of air blockages. That is a clear, solid reminder that would prove me vastly different to any human who took a look—and they have, too...a hospital had the unfortunate shock of taking my bloods and chest x-rays in the 1970’s. It’s happened quite a few times since.”

Leather wrinkled as he rolled up one sleeve in response to Danny’s gaping face, offering his bare wrist to him.

“Go ahead—feel my pulse; it’s right there, double time—the vascular valves have to work twice as fast to keep up with a second heart.”

Danny cocked an eyebrow, taken aback for a few short seconds before gingerly taking the Doctor’s wrist in his hand…

…As Danny fumbled to find the right spot and gesture, the Doctor mimed with his own free hand on the wrist to guide Danny on the correct position.

He fought down the light tremors of emotion in his hand as he tried to focus on the right spot beneath the time traveller’s skin, tactile attention peeled for any slight movement.

Thump-thump,

The hybrid’s eyes shot as wide open as dinner plates.

A beat rippled under the pads of his fingers, rapidly fluttering in quickly succeeding rounds of two each third of a second…

…Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump…

A vague fog spilled into his brain an isolated fact from tenth-grade science—a snippet of the teacher’s comparisons to show the rough scale of average resting heart rates.

The Doctor’s pulse hurried like a human pumped up on terrifying high of adrenaline…all, incredibly, while still at rest. Such a pace remained impossible for a human heart to handle alone…

A chest far more bizarre than any of the freakish physiological anomalies he had ever fathomed or dreaded discovering in his own mutated body.

“How…how fast is that?” Danny stammered in awe, pulling his hand away.

“Roughly around 126 beats per minute, resting.” The Doctor grinned proudly, “That can go up to 150 when I’m running. The hearts themselves are even faster than the pulse—in rounds of four. You think that’s too different from human for you to have no problems with?”…

… He glanced over the other’s smaller frame.

“Want to try yours? Take some vitals to see if there’s anything different we need to know of?”

Danny frowned, unease starting to pool in the bottom of his stomach.

“But, we’re in Amity Park…”

“We’re in Amity Park in the TARDIS” he corrected, “safe from any prying eyes—those walls are impenetrable. There’s no better place than here to take a look—and knowing how your own body adapted to ectoplasm will very likely come in handy later.

If not now, that’s alright—but consider it for later some time; self-knowledge is very important, and courage starts with stepping up to face what frightens you.”

“No…I’ll give it a go now.” Danny decided hesitantly.

“Alright, then.” The Doctor strolled briskly down a branching corridor, disappearing down the amber hallway.

The console room fell into silence, only broken by the faint drone of the TARDIS engines in the background. Left to his own devices in the empty room, curiosity lightly crept in over the upset in Danny’s chest, tempting him into a quick glance at his own wrist.

He’d gotten to check the Doctor’s pulse…so what about his own?...”

Read full story from beginning under cut:

A faint spectre of a familiar wheezing noise—something roughly halfway between an electric train engine and some contraption from the mind of H.G Wells—drifted through Danny’s window. He sprung up off of his bed with the suddenness of a wound-up spring, in a messy paradox of fear and excitement. Hardly a blade of backyard grass crunched under his step as he ejected himself, ghost-aided, from the second story window. He leapt into a hurried sprint out to his front yard and down the footpath, a prayer on his lips that Jazz—or, god forbid, his parents—wouldn’t find it odd he locked his bedroom door for something as mundane as an alleged “nap”.

He couldn’t tell them why he was leaving, not without admitting a secret he dreaded they wouldn’t understand.

For someone as guarded in lies as Danny, the hefty pile of trust he invested in the Doctor after only sixth months still baffled his own judgement.

Sheer serendipity had smashed them into each other in the dirty, deserted alleys of Amity Park in the heat of late spring—in retrospect, it was only sensible that Amity Park’s run-ragged local protector was pulled head-first into the Doctor’s mission to chase down an alien threat to the town. Danny’s experience with danger, quick thinking and compassion received the unbelievable surprise of an approving eye from the peculiar “traveller”—and at the end of an averted crisis, their exchange switched from a currency of snarky banter to their inevitably unveiling secrets. Two pairs of light sapphires locked into each other’s depths, piercing through the icy surfaces to glimpse at mutually familiar reflections of loneliness and pain. With the planting of a hand on Danny’s shoulder, and the man’s lighthearted switch to a casual offer to take him on a trip (he owed the boy one for the help, was his excuse), and Danny had finally witnessed the unthinkable: the miraculous salvaging of the hitherto unsalvageable.

His childhood dream of becoming an astronaut, struck down by the brutal consequences of recklessly buckling to peer pressure at fourteen (sacrificing one half of his life to get his powers, and the other half to the ungrateful town he used them for), had somehow been resurrected from the ashes. In the blinding abyss of despair that tore from him all motivation and vision of his own meaning and future, he had finally regained sight of what he had longed for so long ago:

He was offered a chance to see the stars.

…not just gazing at constellations from the roof he vastly preferred to the entire home that sat underneath, but a chance to spare a glance up close and personal—on the densely populated planets pulled into the stars’ orbits. To bask in the colourful evidence of those stars in an alien sunrise, and set foot on the moons and asteroids bizarre geological impossibilities called their ancient homes…

One trip turned into a second…which, unsurprisingly, turned into a third…

From there, the call of Danny’s responsibility to stay in Amity brought a semi-regular schedule of visits back and forth—from Danny relearning what hope felt like from the firsthand wonders of space, to the Doctor’s frequent check-in visits to the child’s haunted hometown. Hours filled with conversation and strengthening rapport that Danny’s busy double life deprived him of having with his family and friends. A fresh perspective on the universe leapt into his life out of the blue and sat, in a worn leather jacket and raven buzz-cut, listening to his pain and pushing him to heal.

That report nagged at Danny from the recesses of his mind, insisting on the only person he could take his dredged-up dilemma to.

For all the time that he had been a halfa, Danny adamantly ignored the implications of his own modified biology. As he distracted himself with his earlier superhero-esque impression of gaining ghost powers, the notion of becoming something not entirely human sat tightly folded and stuffed into the underbelly of his mental closet where it couldn’t hurt him—out of sight, out of mind. The concept of an otherworldly, freakish creature—one of the only two on the entire planet—alone in a crowd of normal humans with the tenacity to tear him apart as soon as they knew…

It reared its ugly head in his nightmares.

An unfortunate doubt burrowed a deep beeline into his heart that, no matter how well his family and friends knew him, the intricacies of his situation were impossible for them to understand. Unlike him, they all remained fully human…powerless, mundane, living without fear of being found out as something else… Vlad, for all that he was Danny’s fellow in physical nature, remained his moral opposite. Danny lost count of just how many times that broken record had replayed his denial of Plasmius’s contemptible deal to the stubborn maniac. By all accounts, the second halfa should’ve had no one to turn to.

However, for all of the paranoid secrecy that lodged the topic close to the vest, Danny felt almost entirely at ease breaching it with the Doctor—minus the unpleasant sting of the touchy subject matter tasting bitter in his mouth.

His hasty feet scraped to a stop at a sliver of blue wood past a corner. Relieving his straining lungs, his legs strolled the last few metres steadily of their own accord, ceasing before he bumped into the hilariously unfitting shape of a 1960’s British police box at the mouth of an alleyway. An unearthly glow pulsed faintly from the lantern atop the booth, tinting the deep Aegean-blue paint with scant patches of flashing turquoise. A soft orange glow streamed out in beams from the two windows on a pair of double doors at the entrance. Danny’s fingers reached up, sensitively, to the sturdy corner framing of the booth, his eyes catching the ebony sign that read “POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX” along the length of the roof. A shudder through the wood brushed feather-light underneath his fingertips in greeting, the warm purr of an impossibly ancient—and just as volatile—housecat eagerly welcoming its familiar guest.

After a quick rap on the doors, they swung open with a long creak, accompanied by a Northern British accent rising in a pleasant tenor.

“Ah, Danny—right on time again!” faded eyebrows shot up a bare forehead under the familiar black buzz-cut. A welcoming smile spread over half the distance from one embarrassingly prominent ear to another.

“I heard you landing.” the forced cheer in Danny’s words fell in ruins to the awkward, shaky tumble they came out in.

The grin quickly turned into a serious frown, those electric blue irises lowering their gaze in concern.

“…Something wrong?”

“Can we talk about it inside...?”

The Doctor nodded carefully, letting Danny into the vast exterior of the disguised time machine and locking the door behind him.

The teenager shuffled in as the Doctor paced to a cooler bag resting beyond the edge of the main console to grab a drink for them both. He broke his companion’s awkward silence.

“I assume this is something difficult, then?”

“Well…yeah.” Pathetic as it was, it was all the response Danny could momentarily muster. His gaze darted from one side to the other and he rubbed the back of his neck, “It kind of occurred to me earlier, but I’ve never wanted to think about it…”

Those ancient eyes pierced immediately into him with a protective air.

“Does it have to do with your parents?”

“No!” he stammered hastily, “—not exactly, it’s just…”

His throat moved as if possessed, his voice lowering carefully from a reflex honed for reasons he wished never had to be.

“I…what do I do? …What if people find out what I am...?”

The Doctor’s eyes blinked almost owlishly for such a scant second that Danny wasn’t even sure if he had just been imagining it, before his features schooled into a pensive frown.

“Oh…”

Silence.

“Danny, there’s nothing ‘freakish’ about being other than human; normalcy is in the eye of the beholder.”

Danny’s gaze sank to the floor, fighting a losing battle to keep his face restrained, eyes dodging away from the Doctor as he put a hand on the teen’s shoulder.

“You say that…but you don’t know what people are like.”

“Oh, I think a good 700 years of being acquainted with Earth had made sure I know.” The Doctor scoffed.

“You don’t know what being human is like! You don’t know what I’ve lost!” ripped itself from Danny’s trembling throat.

“What about my parents and the people in town? Even Tucker and Sam, forgetting what they already know, would still find me weird if they found out how deep it went! It would matter to them!”

“—You already know I’m not human; you just said so.” the Doctor replied simply.

“Do you think it would matter to me?”

Danny choked on a dumbfounded stutter.

“I…I don’t know.”

The older of the duo tapped a hand on Danny’s shoulder, trying to coax the younger’s gaze upwards, with a thoughtful pause…

“Danny, did you know I have two hearts?”

Danny snapped up to look him in the eye.

“It’s true!” the alien crowed in mock defence, “You must’ve forgotten if you don’t remember! I’m sure I’ve mentioned it at least once!”

Leather wrinkled as he rolled up one sleeve in response to Danny’s gaping face, offering his bare wrist to him.

“Go ahead—feel my pulse; it’s right there, double time—the vascular valves have to work twice as fast to keep up with a second heart.”

Danny cocked an eyebrow, taken aback for a few short seconds before gingerly taking the Doctor’s wrist in his hand.

“Umm…how do I check for a pulse?”

“Take your index and middle finger together and put them on the wrist, underneath the base of the thumb; there’s a palpable vein there in most ‘humanoid’ species, a similar one in Time Lords as well.” As Danny fumbled to find the right spot and gesture, the Doctor mimed with his own free hand on the wrist to guide Danny on the correct position.

He fought down the light tremors of emotion in his hand as he tried to focus on the right spot beneath the time traveller’s skin, tactile attention peeled for any slight movement.

Thump-thump,

The hybrid’s eyes shot as wide open as dinner plates.

A beat rippled under the pads of his fingers, rapidly fluttering in quickly succeeding rounds of two each third of a second. It throbbed as fast as the metal-style Dumpty Humpty song he’d listened to on loop for the last two months, accelerated beyond the rabbiting thud of his heart in his chest when he ran himself ragged in the two-minute mile in ninth grade. The very rhythm of life that kept the Doctor in the universe, pushing his physiology onward, spoke clearly of the hidden contents of his ribcage.

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump…

A vague fog spilled into his brain an isolated fact from tenth-grade science—a snippet of the teacher’s comparisons to show the rough scale of average resting heart rates.

The Doctor’s pulse hurried like a human pumped up on terrifying high of adrenaline…all, incredibly, while still at rest. Such a pace remained impossible for a human heart to handle alone…

A chest far more bizarre than any of the freakish physiological anomalies he had ever fathomed or dreaded discovering in his own mutated body.

“How…how fast is that?” Danny stammered in awe, pulling his hand away.

Sixth months of travels, venting and understanding, everything he owed the miraculous alien in front of him, won out beyond questioning.

The halfa shook his head vigorously.

“No…never…”

“Well, with the body I’ve got, yours certainly wouldn’t ever a problem for me. Even if there are people in your town who wouldn’t accept you, I do—and there will be other people out there in the larger universe who would, too. Even if you lose one place, you don’t lose the ability to find another—and I’m sure there are people already in your town who would find a closer place with too. From what you’ve said of your friends and sister, I’m sure they’d handle it fine in the end.”

“But I’m pretty sure they couldn’t take something like that in stride.”

“Oh, come on! What’s a little non-human physiology between friends?” the Doctor jabbed warmly, “An initial shock, inevitable as it is, wouldn’t end bonds that old just like that!”

He glanced over the other’s smaller frame.

“Want to try yours? Take some vitals to see if there’s anything different we need to know of?”

Danny frowned, unease starting to pool in the bottom of his stomach.

“But, we’re in Amity Park…”

If not now, that’s alright—but consider it for later some time; self-knowledge is very important, and courage starts with stepping up to face what frightens you.”

“No…I’ll give it a go now.” Danny decided hesitantly.

“Alright, then.” The Doctor strolled briskly down a branching corridor, disappearing down the amber hallway.

He’d gotten to check the Doctor’s pulse…so what about his own?

A bombardment from his brain halted that train of thought at a railroad crossing, forcing it to make way of a nuisance little car that jeered, ‘Try, and you’ll seal that proof in stone; if that pulse is anything non-human, you’re never unseeing that, you frea—’

Danny pounced at the scathing thought in defensive irritation as it sent his hands into another series of light shivers. Another part of him stepped in to remind him of the Doctor’s words—receiving a reluctant welcome by his conscious.

How different would it be? Was it any different from a full human’s at all? How different was it when he hadn’t really had a strong concept of what a normal human pulse actually felt like in comparison to his own? Using his own heartbeat as a frame of comparison for the Doctor’s was one thing—a point of reference to compare his pulse to another normal person’s, he did not have.

He pulled a deep, slow current of air into his lungs, trying to settle his nerves again as he fumbled with the posture of the middle and index finger, stumbling embarrassingly for a few seconds to find their claim on the thumb-side of his other wrist.

His nostrils flared with another deep breath as he steeled himself in anticipation, seconds dragging their heavy feet as he searched for a feeling of movement in his veins.

He froze in astonishment as plodding pulse gently thrummed to his touch.

Thump…thump…thump…

His…

That was his.

The giver of his own life—half-life—the very perpetuator of his existence; the fundamental thing that kept him alive from the inside, human and post-…the emissary of the complex organic pump at the centre of his once-human body…

A dizzying rush of…something indescribable surged through his body, bringing a surreal tickle of cold everywhere it flowed; the hairs on his arm stood straight upwards atop a desert of countless goosebumps cluttering his thin skin. A breath caught itself in his throat, straining his diaphragm as it pulled tightly around his chest. The sluggish pulse accelerated to a more vigorous flutter under the light touch, as adrenaline hit in the snap-short second his body screamed for air—responding to his own emotions in real time, like a viewing window cut neatly into the exterior steel plating of a mechanical marvel, giving a tantalising glimpse of a small section of the mechanism inside as it continued playing its part in the unknown, concealed whole…

He snapped out of his reverie as the Time Lord re-emerged into the console room, his arms cradling a steel bin stacked with medical equipment, a stethoscope coiled around his neck.

“…You know, I thought you weren’t that kind of doctor…?” Danny probed with shy wit.

“I am now!” he grinned, sapphire orbs glimmering humorously as a quick yank saved a digital thermometer from falling to its death off the top of the overflowing pile.

His head took on a slight tilt like a contemplative owl as he lay down his cargo and eyed the halfa’s fingers drawing a pattern into the skin of his wrist as his mouth seemed to temporarily malfunction.

“My pulse…it’s there.”

“Well, that’s one thing you have over other ghosts, then.”

The halfa probed hesitantly, “Is it too slow? …Is it human?”

“Hold on, let me take a look.” The Doctor insisted, brows squashed downwards in a neat line of concentration as thick, calloused hands took a hold of Danny’s wrist. The concentrated frown descended further as his throat hummed in thought for a few, lagging moments.

“That’s rather slow,” he rated, “Usually, the average resting rate for humans is between sixty and eighty beats per minute. Considering that you’re hardly an elite athlete, you wouldn’t be expected to go below forty to fifty at a healthy rhythm…but here it is.”

An uncomfortable gulp didn’t cure the tension in Danny’s throat.

“…how slow?”

The Doctor’s face stilled for a scant second in a familiar schooling of intense focus; six months of seeing the Time Lord in action told Danny that superhumanly precise calculations of the flow of time were running through that head, measuring speed in all but brief moment, like a supercomputer.

“…45 beats per minute, rounding up the half-seconds.”

“Damn…” his gobsmacked mouth fell open.

“It’s the ghost half affecting the human one, likely.” His friend explained simply. A pair of leather clad arms burrowed into the box and returned with handheld metallic box, snaking around a cuff of rough cloth on a length of rubber tubing, “What would be interesting is to see whether your blood pressure compensates for the heart rate in any manner—and what it does to your temperature, for that matter.”

Danny grimaced in anticipation as the blood pressure cuff slipped over his bicep. For some inexplicable reason, insistent check-ups back in the forgotten times his parents fretted constantly over a risk of childhood ecto-contamination had given him a mild aversion to blood pressure machines. It left a mark so strong, that being thrown violently across the pavement by a volatile ghost while fighting remained a more tolerable preference to having his blood pressure taken.

“It won’t take long,” the Doctor insisted as he picked up the thermometer he’d intercepted earlier, “Just stay still.”

Danny’s upper arm pressed in on itself like a squashed balloon about to burst; he ground his teeth together as a few, unpleasant seconds passed, relief flooding through him as the crushing push of the cuff retracted and gave his limb free room again. The few seconds of a thermometer pressing against his middle ear lasted for a few less, far more comfortable seconds before it chimed a small, synthesised beep.

He watched the Doctor’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates.

“Well, your blood pressure seems to be within normal human range–not compensating for the slow blood flow at all, something else must be at work...” the Time Lord quickly evened his voice, hastily attempting to salvage the second that he looked taken aback, “…your temperature, though…that’s 26 degrees.”

“WHAT!?”

The Doctor locked onto Danny with a dumbfounded look, “…Celsius.”

Danny groaned.

“You almost gave me a heart attack! …what is it in Fahrenheit?”

“78.8, almost 79.”

“Oh…wow, that’s cold. Average people are around 90-something, right?”

“Yes; 79 would be hypothermic for full humans.” he continued, his voice leaking a hint of fascination, trailing off lightly into a short, pensive silence…

“You’re not a lot colder than I am…” his voice tumbled out airy and absent, hints of buried emotion leaking through his cracks in his straining voice…

…such a foreign tone from the elder that Danny froze.

“Time Lord core temperatures sit generally at around 12 degrees Celsius—around 53 in Fahrenheit. ” he continued, “Any human that cold would be on the brink of death—or already dead.”

As soon as the cracks opened, they sealed themselves shut—the Doctor’s voice evening to a low, serious tone leaking with hints of curiosity, leaving little trace that tension had ever been there, “Whatever is happening in your body, the ghost aspect of your biology is somehow enhancing or interfering with the human body; there has to be a trace of something sourcing all of that…”

Danny blinked as the azure light of a Sonic Screwdriver emerged out of the Doctor’s pocket and intruded into the path of his vision. The shining spot smeared a line of light, alongside the device’s typical warped buzzing, as it swept through the air in all directions along Danny’s body. He fidgeted bemusedly as the screwdriver’s whine spiked to a much higher pitch as it aligned with his chest.

“The scan has just found ectoplasmic energy readings trailing through your entire body,” Danny’s elder translated as he pulled the Sonic Screwdriver back with a deft flick of the wrist, “and it’s all gathering in one place in your chest, like streams of energy all flowing into one, teeming reservoir. There, it’s a singular point of high ectoplasmic concentration, but the overall energy doesn’t seem stationary; it seems to continue flowing around the body, become attracted to the centre point and travel through it before flowing out again, temporarily spiking the energy level in that point.”

“I don’t get it…” Danny frowned.

“It’s like a…core…” The Doctor reasoned, “Like planets have cores, and atoms have nuclei; there’s a central ‘core’ of denser energy all held together in one localised area, and the rest of the energy flows around it, like an atmosphere. As the energy changes, it’s attracted closer to the centre; the centre is the waypoint that keeps all of the ectoplasm in your body on a leash—keeps it flowing and cohesive. I wouldn’t be surprised if it also controlled your ghost half itself.”

In essence, it’s highly likely that ‘core’ is keeping your ghost form together.”

The words assaulted Danny’s ears like a crack of thunder.

His hand glided to his chest, attention peeled for a single movement, a charge, anything…a sign that wasn’t the tell-tale beat of his heart…

As he settled in the very centre—just to the right of his trudging heartbeat—he found it.

A wave of surreal, visceral lightness overwhelmed him, flooding through his very bones.

A rapid, blurry buzzing flashed in and out of existence under his palm, pulsating in his chest like a crackling electrical circuit. Dizzying confusion flooded him as fear and resentment gave way to a profound sense of relief, of near-euphoria. A spark of life erupted from the blurry sphere in his chest to every tissue, every muscle, every vein and bone in his being.

His whole body stiffened in surprise, his diaphragm forcing his lungs to take in a stuttering gasp of awe.

A desperate voice cried out in familiarity from somewhere deep within him, a cry for help, a cry for acceptance…and an overwhelming sense of oneness.

‘…This is me.’

His weak knees threatened to give out underneath him, and the concerned Doctor bolted forward to grapple him under his arms as he collapsed to the TARDIS floor like a ragdoll.

“What happened?!” the words rushed out in a tense demand.

Danny’s head snapped upwards in a swift, stiff motion; their wide eyes locked. Young sapphires bore for relentless, painstaking seconds into ancient ones.

“I can feel it…” he breathed, “It’s there...”

The Doctor’s hands flew to the stethoscope around his neck, hastily uncoiling and fitting the two prongs in his ears in a frenzy as his instructions under pressure came out, clear and sharp.

“That’s it—I’m taking a look. Shirt up, now!”

Lifting the hem of his own shirt became a fumbling mess in the boy’s dazed state as the alien placed the bell end on his chest. The cold metal of the stethoscope sent shots of ice through Danny’s skin.

Seconds drudged on in the apprehensive silence as the Time Lord listened.

“…It’s pulsing…” he concluded at last in a daze.

“That buzzing in and out, right?”

“Yes—can hear the vibration.” He elaborated, “It’s very clearly there, lodged almost over your heart; it’s nearly completely mixed in with its motions…”

His voice lowered thoughtfully.

“They appear to be working in conjunction. As the heart beats, the ectoplasmic core flares up, then quickly peters out...”

A mud of dissonance lurked in Danny’s gut as those lips twitched into a restrained smile—he could’ve sworn those worn eyes above them flickered with a glimpse of conflicting melancholy.

“In a way,” the Doctor proposed, voice trailing off absently, “it functions like a second heart…”

The smile widened warmly, though hints of vulnerable emotion cracked through a strained veil of positivity.

“In a way, you almost have two hearts as well…or perhaps one and-a-half hearts is more accurate, considering its difference to a proper organ.”

The Doctor reached down and grabbed him by the wrist to haul him to his feet; Danny’s other hand clenched instinctively on that similarly cold joint above the clamping hand in response. Two vastly conflicting pulses thundered through the pair’s sensitive tactile reception as they pulled on each other’s weight—one too rapid to be a human not sprinting down a racetrack, the other too plodding and slow for one not in a deep slumber.

Two pulses at opposite ends of a spectrum of the blatantly unearthly, but simultaneously indicators of a vaguely similar common ground…

…common enough to flood Danny’s bones with a primal, euphoric relief of belonging.

“I haven’t met anyone like that in a while—we could start a club, the two of us!” the Doctor smiled proudly, “The two-hearts club…or approximately-two-hearts, I suppose.”

“Y-yeah,” Danny grinned as his uneasy legs strengthened beneath him; the realisation that he was standing without help didn’t loosen his grip on the wrist in his hand.

“The ectoplasmic output is like background electrical interference in your chest, though, so you’ll certainly never want others to be looking at you on an electrocardiogram,” he interjected casually, “but otherwise, you’re perfectly fine.

…just remember, ‘fine’ and ‘human’ are not the same. If you can’t trust your own word, trust mine—not being ‘normal’ or ‘human’ in the eyes of planet Earth doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you. Even if you came across all the close-minded humans out there who’d be happy to shove that opinion down your throat—aware of your secret or not—don’t give them that power over you and they can’t take away the fact that you’re not wrong.”

A small grin split across the half-ghost, half-human hybrid’s face.

Even if for just a small while, he could believe that.

#danny phantom #ectoberweek2020 #ectoberweek2020 day 2 #pulse #doctor who #crossover #danny fenton #ninth doctor #nonhuman biology

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goliath-de-senfina-sango · 4 years

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Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Danny Phantom Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Danny Fenton & Tucker Foley & Sam Manson, Danny Fenton & Jack Fenton & Jazz Fenton & Maddie Fenton, Danny Fenton & Sidney Poindexter, Danny Fenton & Lunch Lady, Penelope Spectra & Bertrand, Jack Fenton/Maddie Fenton Characters: Tucker Foley, Danny Fenton, Sam Manson, Jazz Fenton, Valerie Gray, Jack Fenton, Maddie Fenton, Angela Foley, Maurice Foley, Ida Manson, Jeremy Manson, Pamela Manson, Skulker (Danny Phantom), Desiree (Danny Phantom), Paulina Sanchez, Bertrand (Danny Phantom), Penelope Spectra, Wesley Weston, Walter Weston, Spike (Danny Phantom), Edward Lancer Additional Tags: I'm back baby, The Fentons are a family of Geniuses, Mulltilingual Danny Fenton, Multilingual Tucker Foley, Multilingual Sam Manson, The Ghosts have backstories, Bisexual Male Character, Transgender Danny Fenton, Space Core! Danny, round 2 friends, reseting the world to fix your mistakes Series: Part 2 of Monstrous Mundane Magick Summary:

Ghosts are a part of life that none of them can get rid of, apparently, so now they just have to figure out how to manage them. Join the ghostly Trio as they deal with bad wishes, fight a demon (because of course ghosts aren't all there is) and even deal with a dragon or two! Will they catch any semblance of a break, or will the horrors of the supernatural break them?

Green mist, the crackle of the Specter Deflector mk1 resisting the energy in that mist, and then darkness. That was about what Tucker could remember of the fight if you could even call it that. After what felt like forever, he opened his eyes to find he was in his room. Sitting up with a groan, Tucker rubbed his head and took stock of the situation, just like a badass in a movie. “Still in all my clothes from the fight, Sydney isn’t here, Danny and Sam also aren’t here, room’s a mess as usual…” Grabbing his phone, Tucker checked for any panicked texts and saw none. It was just Friday again, Friday morning even. “Alright, so maybe cotton candy wasn’t her power. Ugh, whatever she did it clearly had no effect on me, so that means the Fentons at least know how to make a good protective belt.” Swinging his feet over the edge of the bed Tucker tapped the Specter Deflectorand paused. “Oh, wait, will whatever she did affect me if I take off the belt?”

Deciding he didn’t want to find out, Tucker climbed out of bed, brushed his teeth, changed most of his clothes, and checked more of his room. To his dismay, he found that Hunter’s mech was not, in fact, here in his room anymore. “Where the heck could that’ve gone? Mom and Dad didn’t move it last time it was this morning.” He paused, scratching his head. “Did they? Ugh, ok, that’s something to worry about later. If I ask they’ll just get upset that I lost track of it ‘because it’s dangerous’ or whatever.”

Heading downstairs to find his parents in the living room, Dad watching football and Mom knitting something, Tucker called out his usual good mornings and headed into the kitchen for some much-needed bacon, eggs, and hashbrowns. Headphones in, the latest Dumpty Humpty songs on, and the smell of food filling the kitchen, Tucker almost didn’t notice the oddness of getting practically no messages from Danny or Sam the whole morning. By now Sam should’ve been complaining about being sick, at the very least.

When he finished up his food, Tucker headed out the door, calling out to his parents, “Gonna go visit Danny, see ya later!” And before they could respond, he was out the door and putting on his helmet. The AI he’d rigged together pointed him toward his board, which he was more than grateful to still have even if Hunter’s suit would be useful, and soon he was in the air. Still, even with no air traffic since the boards weren’t exactly for sale - yet, he needed to talk with Danny about that - he stopped before texting Danny. He couldn’t just phase through a building instead of crashing because he wasn’t looking where he was going after all.

Hey Danny, where should we meet up? I’m omw to tell you something wild.

He guessed, of course, that Danny was at home, so he took off for FentonWorks. Music blaring in his ears, the wind tugging at his body as he did a loop, Tucker considered whether or not he should see if a random girl at the park would find his board cooler than the girls at school. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he blinked a few times, lifting up his helmet to make sure he was reading this right.

Astroboy: I’m at my uncle’s place, u know that.

“Alright, the ghost did more than just chuck me back to this morning, apparently. Why would she put Danny at Wes’ place?” Tucker readjusted his helmet and sped off, going a bit faster than before. He took a moment to take in everything below him, seeing no signs of the fight with Hunter that took place outside the library as he passed it. “There should be something there though… the plasma and the lasers melted holes into the walls and street.”

When Tucker reached the Weston home, he was almost certain of what had happened. The ghost had been some sort of wish granter, like a genie, and she’d heard him wish that Danny hadn’t gone into the portal. That explained the lack of Hunter’s marks on the town, without Danny being half-ghost the poacher had no reason to go after him. Maybe Danny just grew closer to Wes without the ghost stuff in the way? Regardless, Tucker went through the awkwardness of greeting Mr. Weston when he answered the door, “Hi there, I’m Tucker Foley. I’m not sure if you remember me but I’m Danny’s friend and he said he was here.”

“Ah yes, Tucker,” the ginger said, taking him in and clearly searching for a memory. “The one he made the hoverboards and the rockets with, right?”

“Yup! That’s me. May I come in?”

“Of course, sure. Shoes at the door and all that.” Tucker kicked off his shoes and Mr. Weston pointed him upstairs.

When Tucker finally found Danny, his good mood at the fact that his best friend didn’t have to worry about fighting ghosts or questioning who and what he was anymore dropped like a lead ball. It looked like a half-assed recreation of Danny’s actual room, desk and posters, and even his Horrorstation all together in one room. It didn’t have the murals of the stars on the ceiling or the walls like in Danny’s real room, but it looked too personalized to be a guest room. Danny looked up from his handheld and waved at him, looking for all the world like something was crushing him. “Hey, Tuck. What’s up?”

“More than I wanted to be, it looks like,” he muttered. Taking a seat on the bed next to Danny - and it was his bed, the exact same mattress - Tucker took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “How do I ask this?” His eyes swept over the room, marking where things should be but weren’t, until he landed on Danny again, looking concerned and tense and just as thin as he was before. He wasn’t as pale as he’d been growing but he was still paler than Tucker thought was healthy. “Right, ok. Rip off the bandaid I guess. Say a ghost has, for whatever reason, messed with my memories so that I remember things a whole lot different than they are now.” Danny scowled at the mention of ghosts, the same way Dr. Fenton did. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. “What’s happened since August?”

Danny sighed, leaning back on his hands and glaring at the ceiling. “Ghosts. Ghosts have fucking happened since August. Of course, they had to mess with you too, they already messed up everything else.” Danny looked at him again, trying to judge how much of Tucker was the Tucker he knew probably, and Tuck was doing the same. He’d never heard Danny refer to ghosts as a whole with such venom and ice in his voice. It wasn’t right. “After you convinced me how stupid it would be to actually go inside the Ghost Portal, Mom and Dad figured out what was wrong with it - an extra switch inside that would’ve had to be pressed to activate it - and after they fixed it, it worked. Jazz had a fucking fit when she realized she was wrong about Mom and Dad being delusional for believing in ghosts.” Danny looked down, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. ��“I wish she was right.

“At first it seemed like the portal was working the same way all the other portals worked: a window into another world for Mom and Dad to look through and examine what was happening on the other side. But then something actually came out of the thing.” Danny shuddered and Tucker threw an arm around him. “I remember seeing the ectopus thing for the first time. It was so... wrong. Like a messed up hologram that made my eyes hurt to look at it. We all had weapons, thank the stars, but it took a while to get that thing back into the portal.”

“Ok, so it was a door and they didn’t want one of those yet, so they tried unplugging it,” Tucker said when Danny went quiet. He remembered this conversation when Hunter came up. “But it didn’t work that way. Self-sustaining or something, right?”

“A self-sustaining interdimensional intersection that was apparently powered on the other side as much as it was on ours. Stars, Tuck, the freakin Lunch Lady from the 50s came through - or rose up in the cafeteria kitchen, I guess. Either way, when Sam had her menu change thing done and we started a food fight with Dash over it, the ghost lady set the kitchen and cafeteria on fire because we were making a mess of her cafeteria.” Danny scoffed and Tucker winced. “Mom and Dad to the rescue with the Fenton Foamers, since regular extinguishers and stuff wasn’t working. That one got them attention,” he muttered. “The whole town suddenly had their eyes on us, so Mom and Dad did a press conference and then the whole world was paying attention. And then things went wrong.”

“Went wrong, how?” He almost didn’t want to know the answer but at the same time, he knew that he should know what happened because of his wish. This was his fault, and he needed to know what.

Danny curled up in a ball under his arm, and his breaths grew a bit shallower. Tucker was certain he wasn’t going to say anything but a moment later, Danny opened his mouth and forced out the words like they stung his mouth to say. “This giant fucking ghost hornet killed Jazz while I was in the counselor’s office and talking with Ms. Spectra about how the media circus was affecting my home life.” He leaned against Tucker, face streaked with tears and chest heaving. “Jazz fucking died of a giant hornet sting and I was talking to a counselor. One who fucking ratted my parents out called them neglectful and said they were endangering us at home and CPS shoved me into uncle Walter’s house.”

Tucker knew what being punched in the face felt like, Dash had made sure of it. Now, however, it felt a thousand times worse. Like someone had taken a hot poker right out of a fireplace and shoved it into his chest. “Oh my god.”

Tucker stayed with Danny as long as Mr. Weston would tolerate, getting the fact that the Mansons were moving out because of the danger in Amity out of him before they played some videogames to get all of this off of their minds. It didn’t, of course, because nothing could get this off of Tucker’s mind, but he had to at least try to get some normalcy out of this for Danny. He got curb stomped by a HellKnight and Danny took on being the Doom Slayer while Tuck stewed.

How the hell am I gonna fix this? That one thought bounced around in his head, the only thing besides static, and for what felt like forever, it didn’t go anywhere. Then he checked the news app on his phone for once in his life and saw that cotton candy had flooded the swap meet. I’ll fix it how I messed it up. I just need to find that ghost.

When Wes knocked on the door and told Danny it was time for dinner and heavily implied that Tucker should probably leave, he got up and squeezed Danny in a hug. He got squeezed right back, and it was weird how quickly he’d gotten used to the hum of energy under Danny’s skin that he couldn’t feel anymore. How odd it was to think this should hurt a bit more just because your friend was hugging you as hard as he could, but without superstrength.

On the flyby heading home, Tucker made a detour to the swap meet and started looking, though he wasn’t entirely certain what he was looking for. “Something Alladin-esque, I guess,” he muttered under his breath. Reaching into his jacket pocket thankfully produced the ecto signature tracker he was hoping for, and he followed it to several shards in front of a stand near the center of the cotton candy flood. That was good, at least. The woman putting things away gave Tucker a swell of hope, even if he felt she was probably wearing too much pink. Hopping off the board and removing his helmet he cleared his throat.

“Are you Madam Babazita?”

She stood, turning around to raise a brow at him. Pointing above at the sign that said Madam Babazita's Mystical Oddities. “Who else would I be, kid. Are you here to help with the cotton candy clean up?”

“Actually, I was here to ask about the uh genie that got released around here.” The Babazita turned her full attention to him, and Tucker flinched. There was a sharpness in her eyes and something… off. He didn’t want to make her mad.

“Oh really? You’re here about the djinni?” She looked him up and down and spread her arms out. “I didn’t see you here when her lamp broke.”

“Well, not this version of this morning, no.” He chuckled and cleared his throat again. “I jumped the gun and made a wish without realizing that she could grant them. The only reason I remember all of this, apparently, is because of this.” He raised his shirt to show off the Specter Deflector™. “It blocks out ghostly energy. Is there anything you can tell me about this genie ghost thing that would help me to fix the mess I made?”

Madam Babazita stared at Tucker for several long moments, her beakish nose raised high and her eyes sharp as a hawk’s. After another beat of silence, he opened his mouth to plead a better case than ‘I made a mess and need your help to fix it’ when she held up a hand. “Alright, kid. You look like whatever you did, you regret enough to keep bothering me about it. I’ll tell you about that djinni, but if you get hurt fighting her that’s your fault, not mine.”

“Got it.” She frowned at him and Tucker winced. “I understand, madam.”

Learning of Desiree’s life was a sad story to hear, but finding out that she was compelled to grant any wish she heard was a lifesaver. Sure, it sounded rough having to fulfill everyone else’s desires and not your own, but Tucker needed that kind of guarantee that he could get what he needed so long as he asked for it correctly. Unfortunately, that would have to wait. The sun was going down, and his parents probably didn’t want him out late with ghosts on the loose.

There were things Tucker could get away with, such as staying out particularly later than he should, ignoring all the vegetables on his plate and generally being less engaged in dinner discussion because his parents weren’t the parents he knew. Not exactly, anyway. A few months could really change someone. One thing he could not get away with, however, was taking a shower in Angela Foley’s household. So, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and took off the Specter Deflector™. Nothing happened. Opening his eyes, Tucker found nothing had changed. He could remember everything from how it was supposed to be and he didn’t get any new memories aligning with what Danny had told him. “That’s one mystery solved,” he muttered. That done he got rid of the rest and cleaned, trying to devise a plan.

When he woke up the next morning he had a plan. It was a relatively simple one. “Find Desiree, unwish my wish, and the world is fixed.” He put the belt back on with his new outfit of leather pants, a green sweater and a leather jacket he’d found sitting in his closet. “If she can change reality this much then who knows what else she can do? She probably remembers me shooting at her.”

Even with the wildness of a ghost messing around with people’s desires and a huge, overly public case regarding the town crazies who discovered the afterlife - a thing that Tucker was going to file under ‘think about in more depth later’ - life still went on. There were movies to attend, and people still went to them. This was not the place where Tucker expected to be dealing with a ghost of any sort. And yet, here the tracker pointed him, leading to Paulina… chibified. “I know chibis are supposed to be cute, and on-screen they are, but this? This is horrifying, and I don’t like it. I dunno how anyone else thinks this is cute.” Everyone in the theater was going nuts over Paulina, who steadily grew into a seven-foot-tall chibi version of herself. “Oh wow, the weebs are feeding her power or whatever. That’s just great.”

Riffling through his jacket pocket, Tucker felt the handles for familiar weapons - an ecto-pistol, a tube of lipstick that also shot lasers, the wrist ray he should have on and was now putting on- but none of those guaranteed he’d be able to get the ghost energy out of Paulina. Was this a good idea to act on? “Only one way to find out…” Aim, charge, fire. A beam of green struck chibilina in the forehead, dead on, and her supernatural form rippled with a green light. Everyone turned to Tucker, who sucked in a sharp breath, ran for his board, and flew away.

“Ok, I don’t have a weapon on me that can push the ghostly energy out of someone,” he muttered, hoping and praying that Paulina couldn’t also fly. “Good to know. Ugh, where would I find a wish obsessed djinni?” He looked down below him, and up above him even, hoping he’d spot any kind of clue as toa car flew within an inch of Tucker’s face and it’s tailwind dragged him into a spin.

Once he corrected himself in the air and almost caught all of his breath back, Tucker focused on the car zooming around through the air with green energy pulsing through it. “I know we were talking about making flying cars happen, but not like this.” He flew off and after the car, having to push the engine of his board to keep up, and knocked on the driver’s side window. “Uh, hello, this is technically speeding, I do believe.”

“DUUUUDE WHAT THE HELL!?” The blond surfer stereotype screamed, bringing Tucker to question his style and location. There were no beaches in Minnesota.

“Roll down the window!” Tucker pointed at the button, which the guy thankfully hit, and Tucker reached in to grab the wheel and steer the man away from the city. “Alright, so I don’t know how to drive exactly but I’m pretty sure there should be some brakes down there.” No sooner did he say that than the car stopped. It stopped dead in the air, and gravity took hold - a thing it did at inconvenient times. Thankfully, Tuck didn’t have to scream for the man to hit the gas again since this sudden a drop kept him from being able to catch the air needed for screaming. When they started moving forward and up again, Tucker clung to the car door and wheezed in his helmet, shaking his head. “Find. Empty. Parking spot. Think about going down. Slowly.”

“Oh what, just fuckin think about it going down smoothly and it’ll go down?” Tucker, who was on his hoverboard of all things, was being glared at. By some surfing wanna be. He had no time for this kind of bullshit.

“DID YOU WISH FOR IT TO START FLYING AND IT FLEW?!” the guy flinched and nodded, face screwing up with concentration as he steered the car. Tucker felt free to let go as the vehicle descended toward an empty-ish parking lot and began to slow down. When the car landed and Tucker hovered only a foot off the ground, the man practically kicked his door open and wrapped Tucker in a hug. “Whoa! Ok, ok this is happening.”

“Thank you! Fuck, man, thank you so much! I almost died, flying around in a car!”

“Yeah, I’m looking to find the person who did this so I can stop her.” Tucker gently pushed the man away and started floating up higher, his visor flashing with a status update on his board. It might need maintenance after pulling speeds like that. “You just do your thing, probably avoid using this car for a while. Buh bye.” That said, he sped off into the sky.

“You’re serious?”

“Would I be telling you this if I wasn’t 100% serious, Sam?” Tucker groaned, sitting on his board on the roof of the school. It was the only place he could think of that’d be abandoned on a Saturday. “I know how to be serious, you know!”

“I dunno,” Sam drawled, “you can be pretty insensitive.”

“Enough to joke about messing up everyone’s lives with a wish?” Tucker glared at his phone. “Sam, Jazz is dead in this timeline! I wouldn’t joke about being the cause of that!”

The line was silent for a long moment, and he checked to make sure he hadn’t been hung up on. Finally, Sam sighed the crackle of it in the receiver matching the static in his head when he learned about that little tidbit. “Fine. Ok, let’s pretend I believe you. Why do you want my help instead of Danny’s?”

“Pardon?”

“Danny’s the one with access codes to all the weapons his folks have for fighting ghosts, not me. Why are you telling me this instead of Danny?”

“First of all, I have the weapons I need to fight her if it comes to that, which gods I hope it doesn’t.” With all the chaos she was causing, Tucker didn’t want to get into an actual fight with Desiree. He had a feeling Danny wouldn’t have won that fight with his powers either. “Second of all: gee Sam, I wonder why I didn’t tell Danny that I essentially got his sister killed with a hasty wish?” The line was silent, and Tucker took a few deep breaths. “I’m sorry, if I sound harsh or anything I just. You’re the one who comes up with most of our winning ideas, and I don’t wanna hurt Danny any more than I already have. All I need to do is find Desiree and make a wish. Any ideas on where she might be?”

“Well, she might be at a place where people typically go to make wishes. Everyone has a desire to ask for pretty much all day but a wishing well or fountain or something would probably do the trick.” There was a loud clacking of keys and Tucker winced.

“You need to ease up on that poor keyboard.”

“It’ll be fine. There’s a wishing fountain around the middle of Magnus park. Heck, toss a coin in and make a wish of your own, that might get her attention.”

Why hadn’t he thought of that? “Thanks, Sam, you’re the best.”

“You know I am. And Tucker? Be safe, or as safe as you can be.”

“Safe as anyone can be going after a djinni, yeah. I will be.” Tucker nodded and hung up, slipping on his helmet. Putting in the directions for the Magnus park fountain through his PDA, Tucker took off into the sky and hoped that things went even a bit ok.

Finding Walter Weston as he wished for a million bucks and peridot green mist swirled around him like a caress as a familiar voice spoke was not what Tucker would call ok. Still, he took the opportunity to stop another stupid wish from getting twisted - a million bucks could be quite a few deer or even just that much money crushing him under its weight. Slowing down enough to not break anything, Tucker swerved, yanking Mr. Weston up out of the smoke, and dropped him off a few meters away. Looking up, Tucker saw an infuriated Desiree glaring down at him and shouting in a language he didn’t understand.

That was fine though. He didn’t need to understand her just yet. She understood wishes in English just fine, clearly. “I wish that I hadn’t interrupted your conversation with Danny!” The djinni stared at him, eyes bright red with obvious fury, but her hands glimmer pink and green, and the mist wrapped around him again.

“So you have wished it, so shall it be!”

#Danny Phantom #Tucker Foley #Angel Foley #Maurice Foley #Danny Fenton #Wesly Weston #Walter Weston #Paulina Sanchez #Desiree #fanfiction #Phanfiction #fanphiction #fanfic #phanfic #fanphic #phanphiction #phanphic #Rexy Writes #Monstrous to Supernatural

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mlmdarkfiction · 4 years

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Power of Three

For a Friend who wishes to remain anonymous

Fandom: Dead By Daylight Ship: David King /Jeff Johansen/Danny Johnson Description: Instead of confiding in each other when odd things begin to happen to them in their everyday lives, David, Jeff, and Danny decide to keep it to themselves instead, leading to things becoming worse and worse until they all disappear one by one. No trigger warnings, however the fic is very canon divergent/close to a different canon entirely. Read on AO3:

Read Below:

Jeff wakes with a start, covered in a sheen a sweat, hair sticking to his face. A nightmare. That’s what it was. He recognizes this fact immediately, as he’s met with the familiar surroundings of the apartment he shared with his boyfriends.

He’d fallen asleep on the couch again. A bad habit the man had formed some time ago. His nightmare, he notes, was probably caused by the playing of Halloween, left on the TV.

He’s sure Danny was watching with him, but maybe the other man had ditched him when he’d started to snore. Wouldn’t be the first time he complained about Jeff falling asleep while they’re supposed to be watching something, and then snoring so loud he can’t actually enjoy it.

Turning the TV off doesn’t calm his post nightmare anxiety, neither does realizing he can hear both of his boyfriends bickering somewhere else within the apartment.

Jeff lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his eyes making patterns in the white paint. The dream, or more accurately the nightmare is still fresh in his mind. It’s odd enough that he remembers it at all.

Woods, dark woods, and he’s running for his life from something but…he can’t quite remember what. Whatever it was that was chasing him, it was blending into the darkness, blending in and-

“Hey! Why’d you turn the movie off?”

Any more thoughts on his nightmare are interrupted by Danny literally flopping onto him on the couch. He’s got a bowl of popcorn with him, as reaches over for the remote. “You don’t get to fall asleep on me and turn off my movie, that’s fucked up.”

“Sorry. What were you and David fighting about?” “What do we always fight about?” Speak of the devil.

Danny doesn’t elaborate, just sticking his tongue out at David before shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“Fuck you.” “Fuck me yourself, coward.”

It’s normal. The normalcy is enough to calm any left-over anxiety. He readjusts the Danny on his lap, sitting up to enjoy the rest of the movie.

Danny is jittery. Something just doesn’t feel right about his walk. He grips the knife in his pocket, he carries it for protection, even if his boyfriends argue it’s a bit much.

It’s not uncommon for him to go out this late. He does it all the time, taking photos of things just slightly off putting enough to be interesting.

The photos he takes for the paper are all mundane, just shots of people and events, things that are boring and a waste of his time. No one cares about the photo’s he actually wants to take. No one but Jeff…and maybe David. Danny’s still not convinced that David just pretends to be interested in what he and Jeff talk about when it comes to art.

He doesn’t take long to think on this though Every other step he takes fills him with anxiety. It’s like something in the darkness is watching him.

He’s the people watcher, he’s the predator. This role reversal is what makes it incredibly nerve wracking. He knows what he would do if he were the stalker in this situation, and it terrifies him.

Finally, he’s had enough, pointing his camera into the darkness and taking a photo. The flash lights up the dark…at least some of it. Danny saw it, a large portion of the darkness, a blob of it seemingly unmoved or caring about the camera’s flash.

Maybe his eyes are playing tricks on him, maybe…

Danny snaps another photo, just in case he is seeing things, but no, the flash once again penetrates only some of the darkness.

The rest seems to be advancing on him, getting closer, and closer.

Fuck.

Whatever it is advancing on him, he’s not waiting to see what it will do. He turns, high tailing it off the path as fast as he can, not even stopping when his camera slips from his grasp crashing onto the rocky ground below, only to be absorbed like everything else into the darkness.

David went out to the bar by himself. It’s not that he didn’t enjoy spending time with his boyfriends, he does, but it’s much easier to blow off steam without them. You see David enjoys getting into fights. He enjoys the adrenaline rush he gets while tussling with some drunken rando, and he enjoys the fact that nine times out of ten he wins. And he used these fights, and these wins, to justify his masculinity to himself.

One of the reasons his boyfriends insisted he doesn’t need to do this. That he has nothing to prove to himself, or to others.

David knows, on some level that they’re right, but that doesn’t stop him from needing to do this. So when Danny’s sick, and Jeff’s busy taking care of him he manages to convince them both he’ll be fine to go out on his own for a little. He does feel a bit guilty leaving his sick boyfriend just to go out drinking and fighting, but he needs this. And besides, it’s not as if there’s anything he can do that Jeff can’t.

The bartender knows David, even with how little he’s come in recently, David see’s how the man’s eyes narrow. A reminder that he will be kicked out if he starts anything inside, any fighting he wants to do should be outside the bar. David can respect that.

He keeps to the rules, at least until he finds a man drunk and belligerent enough to piss him off. David’s the one who gets up, grabbing the man from the shoulder, and pulling him back from the bar.

“Come on- You and me. Outside.”

The drunken man blinks several times, taking multiple minutes to actually understand what it is David’s said to him, and by then the much younger man’s already pulling the drunkard out of the bar and into the street.

David doesn’t even get a chance to throw a punch before the other man is torn free from his gasp, fist colliding with the side of David’s face.

It stings, but more than the physical pain is the shame of knowing he just got slammed by someone who was far more intoxicated then him.

This was supposed to be an easy fight, once David could win without a scratch, and then return home his ego inflated, not get almost KO’d in one shot.

He stumbles back, leaning against the wall, and it’s then he realizes there’s something off with this man he’d chosen to fight. What was definitely just a regular drunkard before was now definitely… something inhuman. It’s the eyes. That’s what makes him realize that something is wrong.

The drunkards eyes, they’re pure black.

All David knows is that suddenly he’s back, in front of his home, no strange black-eyed man in sight. He makes his way inside, but no matter how much he tries, David’s unable to relax until sunrise.

- Maybe things would have gone differently if they had told each other about the odd things that were happening. The nightmares, the stalking, the strangers with pitch black eyes.

But they don’t. All three seemed to silently agree to keep their discoveries to themselves. Jeff simply doesn’t want to worry his boyfriends with something as simple as reoccurring nightmares. Danny’s afraid that his experiences are nothing more than his mental state deteriorating, and what revealing his struggles to his boyfriends could mean in the long run. And David is simply unwilling to admit to the others that this problem all came back to his fighting, something he was supposed to have given up already.

And by refusing to share their experiences with each other, they doomed themselves.

It’s Danny who goes missing first.

He was there one day, and the next he was gone. As far as David and Jeff knew, aside from them, he had no friends, no family, no one else to miss him. It was almost as if he’d never even existed in the first place.

But that’s not true. He did exist. And they did miss him. Everyday.

Both men were a wreck, and although they tried everything in their power to figure out just what had happened…

They never learned anything.

The police even went as far as to claim that, because there was no evidence, that perhaps Danny had willingly left to start fresh somewhere, or that he’d even gone as far as to kill himself, doing so in a way that they hadn’t yet found the body.

But neither man could allow themselves to believe such a thing. For all his quirks and occasional bitterness, Danny loved them. There’s no situation in which he’d leave them, but even if somehow, for some reason, Danny did decide he was going to leave…then why would he leave his camera?

It’s his prized possession, and like all of Danny’s other things, it stays untouched exactly where he’d last left it in the apartment.

When Jeff goes missing-

At least when Jeff goes missing David’s able to make some sense of it.

His mind is whirring with all sorts of theories.

But the one that makes the most sense, is what the police thought happened to Danny.

David thinks, tries to accept, the very real possibility that Jeff killed himself.

The man had struggled with his mental health long before Danny had disappeared, and although Jeff had done his best to keep it from David, he wasn’t stupid, he saw how everything just kept getting worse, and that there was nothing that David could do to stop it.

And with both Jeff and Danny gone, all that left was David. David completely alone in an apartment far to big for the one person, an apartment filled to the brim with reminders of people who are no longer with him.

He breaks within days.

David doesn’t care about the black-eyes stranger that he’d confronted before at the bar, or the fear the man had caused.

He wants a drink.

And what’s more…

What does he care? What does he have to be afraid of? What does he have to live for now?

David welcomes the inevitable fate that awaits him that night when he goes to the bar. He welcomes the group of men, talking in too loud drunk voices, about mugging him. He welcomes the fight and beating that follows.

It goes as well for David as one would expect. A three versus one fight, that leaves David bleeding out alone in the dark of the alley way behind the bar.

But…he doesn’t die.

Despite his deliriousness, the alcohol, the bleeding out, David is still aware enough of his surroundings to notice the shift. He notices the way the world around him shifts into darkness. The void shifts and turns around him

When David comes to, it’s not the dim streetlights of the alleyway that he’s faced with, but the unfamiliar crackling of a campfire.

“Jeff- Jeff he’s awake!”

He doesn’t get to question what’s going on. The campfire, the unfamiliar female voice, and the name. Jeff’s name.

David doesn’t get to question it because he’s pulled into an embrace, a familiar one at that. It’s Jeff. It smells like Jeff, it feels like Jeff, and the fast talking, blubbering voice above him definitely belongs to Jeff.

“Jeff?”

“Yeah?”

“Please stop crying. I have a headache…and that sound is just…the worst.”

It’s comfortable though, being held by Jeff again, after all this time thinking he was dead. Even if David can feel the prying eyes of strangers watching the two of them.

“I thought you were-“

“Dead?”

“Yeah.”

“Not dead just…here.”

David finally looks around to get in a look of their encompassing surroundings. Fog, a darkened forest, and the campfire surrounded by equally confused and damaged looking group of people.

“Where exactly is here?”

He listens to the explanation from Jeff and the others; an Entity, and a never-ending game of life and death meant to keep it fed on all of their individual suffering.

Still despite the explanation, David’s just thinking one thing.

He cups Jeff’s face.

“If you’re here does that mean….”

The other man doesn’t have to answer, the look of despair on the metal heads face is more than enough of an answer.

Danny isn’t here.

At least as far as they know.

Because Danny is within the Entity’s realm, simply not with the survivors. Danny was sent to the side of the Killers, their own fire, a sanctuary for them as well in between the trials.

He knew why.

Why he’d been chosen to be a killer and not a survivor.

He’s not ashamed of what he’d done before coming here, he refuses to be ashamed of his art.

But then Jeff arrived

The only thing Danny had missed at first in his pseudo captivity were his partners.

And then Jeff arrived.

His course of action was simple, and easy.

Under no situation was Jeff allowed to know that Danny was here, and under no situation was Jeff to find out what Danny had become- no, who Danny had always been.

Keeping his secret hidden was an easy enough task. It’s not as if the killers and survivors had any contact outside of the trials, and when faced with one another well…

Danny made sure Jeff was sacrificed. Every time. Every single trial.

This task only got harder with the addition of David, however.

David, who was more than happy to put himself between Jeff and harm’s way.

David, who without fail got Jeff down from the hook before the Entity could come.

And when David finally got tired of defending, and of saving, he got angry. The anger grew until he fought back.

A piece of glass lodging itself within Danny’s shoulder blade as he carried the boxers towards the hook.

The scream that ripped from his lips was familiar.

His game was over.

Identity discovered, not by the removal of a mask, but the pained scream which ripped from his throat.

There was no mistaking the glint of familiarity in David’s eyes, nor the way it was quickly replaced with betrayal.

Although the injury was far from severe, Ghost Face wasn’t seen for the rest of the match, the survivors, David included, were all able to leave, (mostly) unharmed.

David doesn’t tell Jeff.

He can’t bring himself to.

This place has already taken so much from the two of them, and there’s no reason to add to Jeff’s suffering.

It’s nicer, David thinks, to let Jeff continue to believe that Danny simply left them in the real world.

To let him think that at least one person he cares about may still be free, living a happy regular life, and not trapped in this hell hole.

#this fic was entirely rewritten three times and took months to complete #I've never been so glad to be finished with something in my whole life #Danny Johnson #Jed Olsen #Jeff Johansen #David King #Dead by Daylight #my work

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tema-makes-art-sometimes · 5 years

Text

Dark Sins AU Drabble

Dark Sin’s Masterpost: https://tema-makes-art-sometimes.tumblr.com/post/183574237222/the-kingdom-of-dark-sins-masterpost

Main Characters: “Sloth” Ven Vargas (Veneziano), “Envy” Daniel Matthew Kirkland (Canada), “Wrath” Raymond L. Fuchs (Germany)

Mentioned: “Pride” Benjamin A.C. Kirkland (England), “Greed” Yao Ling (China), “Gluttony” Jason Eugene Miles (America), “Lust” Matteo Valentino (Romano), Lily Trembaley (Nyo Canada)

Synopsis: Ven pays Daniel an unwanted visit; Ray also visits, but it is less unwanted.

Daniel sighed, running his blade down the wet stone once, glaring over his shoulder at the unwanted and exhausted guest. Ven had been insistent in seeing him today, and no matter how the man tried to shrug the slothful off the sin would not leave him alone. So he had allowed the man to stay while he sharpened his tools. The one plus side is that he was able to convince the sin to make dinner so he could focus on his work. Ven was making some sort of seafood stew, he didn’t know where he had gotten the ingredients for such things but he wasn’t going to bother to ask right now. His scissors were dulling and he’d rather fix that first than deal with the mysteries of Ven’s seafood.

The tan sin mindlessly stirred his pot, continuing to stare at the envious as he worked. He had to have guessed his work ethic was from his mother’s side. After all, there was no way someone like Ben had been the source of Daniel’s diligence. The boy didn’t know how to take a break sometimes. It was surprising how he accepted a life of mundanity, in comparison to the rest of them. The only exception being Ray, but Ven doubted the man would ever be able to gain a foothold in Iras anyway with their intense anti-sin policies.

“Hey, are you going to keep staring at me and let your stock boil over?’ Daniel asked with a smirk, Ven whipped around to move the pot off the open flame a moment so it could settle back down. He smirked a bit to the sin at the table.

“Thanks Danny, I’d hate to piss you off.”

“Yeah, yeah.. I can hear the sarcasm.”

The two were almost friends, in a way. Ever since he was young Daniel had gained Ven’s favor for his sass and his work ethic, his determination to be better than his father in every way. And nothing was more satisfying to Ven than a nap- and if there was a second thing he was satisfied by it was seeing Ben eat shit.

“So, to what do I owe this visit?” Daniel sighed as he added another few passes to the blade of the scissors over the stone. “Just cryptically not leaving me alone for your own amusement while I work?”

“Oh you wish you were that entertaining,” Ven said with a laugh.

“Clearly I am if you stayed this long and were so determined for me to not lock you out that you, the embodiment of Sloth, was willing to make me dinner for the trouble.” The blonde remarked, rewetting his wet stone so he could refine his edge.

“Alright, you caught me.” he laughed again, reaching for a few of the fresh herb plants growing near the windowsill and making a few trims with the small scissors Danny remarked were for the task. Goodness did that boy love his scissors.

“Skip the half sarcastic congratulations, and cut to the chase would you?” the blonde sighed, putting his scissors down for a moment to focus his attention on Ven. Ven didn’t turn away from his task, cutting herbs on the chopping board.

“Don’t you find it weird?” he finally spoke up, Daniel confused.

“It?”

“That you, the sin of Envy, son of Pride- who is the King of Supasin, is running a small local dress shop and making alterations to clothing?” he remarked. “That you, by what is decreed as destiny, are supposed to be trying to gain favor in your district and rise into power, but instead here you are! Sewing on buttons and hemming work pants.”

Ven could tell that the sin was disgusted by his assumptions, insulted that all of his work was belittled in such a fashion. He didn’t mean to sound demeaning to the man this time, actually curious on why the man would completely disregard a position as high as his father’s that he could raise even higher if he wished for such a calm and well-- uninteresting life. Daniel did not seem like the time to accept mundanity. Speaking of Danny, he was glaring at the sin, not bothering to answer for a moment.

“Oh fuck off with you! I run this shop for my mother! She passed it down to me, it was all she had after getting away from that bastard you call a King. I couldn’t just abandon it.” He scoffed. “So what? Others don’t follow that dumb prophecy anyways, what do you even do?”

“That doesn’t pertain to the topic.” Ven yawned. “I just find it interesting is all. Raymond is the same.” he had to turn his back to the man to hide the smirk as the envious man tensed, the faintest of pink on his ears at the mention of the Irasian sin. Just as he thought.

“Exactly, he’s a hunter in Iras. And stays off the mainland.” he scoffed, turning away from Ven. “It’s not that weird.”

“Though it would be hard for him to even get into a decent position in Iras anyhow with their policies against sins.” Ven remarked. “The poor man’s being hunted in his own home.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“Yes, but if there was any sin I would be concerned about when it comes to public acceptance, it would be Ray. At least people like Matteo, Yao and Jason have been able to keep in public favor.”

“People don’t know about Yao.” Daniel huffed. “And Jason couldn’t keep his mouth shut so of course they know. But Gulan in general is one uprising from being flipped on its head and he knows that.”

“And that doesn’t even bring up your father.” Ven added, Daniel scoffing.

“Him and Matteo are in the same boat. Sins with no link to humanity who never outwardly deny being such things. If it weren’t for Supasin being the way it was, I doubt he would have been able to take power in the first place.”

“Another thing we can agree on.” Ven laughed. “I do get Ray’s struggle though, Acedian isn’t that welcoming to sins either.”

“Neither would they after you destroyed an entire town and turned it into an insomniacs wet dream.” Daniel remarked, Ven scoffing in response.

“That was two cycles ago!”

Daniel simply laughed at the slothful’s distress, finally satisfied with his scissor sharpening he moved to wash the pair in the sink.

“So you seem to really like Ray, care to give me the tea on it?” Ven remarked, suppressing a snicker as he heard the scissors tumble and thunk to the bottom of the sink before being picked back up. He could tell Daniel had hoped the running water and the boiling stock had covered the sound.

“Wha- What are you on about? He’s my friend. So what?”

“Just friends? I doubt it.”

“Shut up Ven.” Daniel huffed, turning off the water pump harshly before drying his hands and meticulously drying his scissors. “We’re not a thing or anything.”

“Ah, right. He’s talking to that Supasinian woman isn’t he?” Ven smirked, “Ah what was her name? Lily?”

“Sure.” Daniel tensed, drapeing the towel he was using back into place before moving to clean up his wet stone and dry off the table where he had been sharpening his blades.

“Did I strike a nerve?”

“Thin. Ice. Ven.” the green eyed sin glared at him, clearly about to tell him off before hearing a harsh, frantic knocking at the door. The two were startled, Ven turning off the heat to the stove and Daniel keeping his scissors in hand as he walked to the door. He opened it, but was not prepared for what he saw. His prized possession fell out of his hands to the floor without hesitation.

It was Raymond, his blonde hair disheveled and hanging into his face. His clothes were torn and his body was covered in bruises and slashes, he had clearly been in a very bad fight. His cheek was swollen, his nose looked broken.

“Shit! Ray- Ray what the hell happened!?” Daniel panicked, helping the man inside. The male weakly started signing, but Daniel placed one hand over his. “Actually don't worry about it right now get inside. Ven bring me the big mat in the kitchen on the back wall NOW!”

Ven having not heard the struggle, and only just the last bit Daniel had shouted was surprised to come out with the folded blue mat in his arms and see Ray in such terrible shape. He joined the man, laying the mat flat, allowing the two to lower the man down to the ground onto his back.

“What do you need me to do?” Ven asked. He left the snark and remarks to the side, he could see the panic and concern in Daniel’s eyes and knew better than to test the already thin patience of the sin.

“Finish making dinner, he’ll need to regain his strength and rehydrate himself. I can tend to his wounds.” Daniel paused. “And… do you have any of that numbing tonic on you?”

Ven nodded without a word, handing over a blue glass bottle. It was Ven’s specialty brew. He knew Daniel didn’t know much about him but he did know the boy knew he had more alchemical hobbies than he would ever let on. It was one thing he and Matteo could do together.

“Alright, but if anything happens call for me. I’ll be in the kitchen. And remember t--”

“Apply to the wounds lightly and make sure it’s heavily diluted in water I know, I know.” Daniel corrected as he moved to get a large bowl, luckily able to have some still warm water from earlier. He didn’t have the patience to wait for water to boil. After what felt like hours Daniel had gathered the different things he needed, cleaning Ray’s wounds, first with soap and water and then the diluted tonic to help numb the pain. He also was able to snap the man’s nose back in place and brace it.

Ray snapped his fingers, getting Daniel’s attention. Daniel glanced over with a frown.

“Sorry I got really focused. What was it?”

The sin gave him a worried look, signing quickly.

I’m okay

Daniel huffed. “Don’t give me that, you are not. Let me finish treating these and I can get you some new clothes.

I don’t need them.

“Yes you do, you are not running around in blood soaked and torn clothes. Not in my house. I’ll clean and repair them, you can borrow some spares.” Daniel sighed.

“I’m going to have to stitch up this gash in your arm.” He remarked. “I numbed it with Ven’s tonic but it might still hurt.”

Ray nodded, and relaxed his arm as much as he could. Daniel made swift work of it, making sure to make it clean as he could, pausing when Ray hissed in pain, letting him slowly relax before he continued. Eventually it was sewn shut, re-cleaned and bandaged. Daniel sighed, shaking his head as he finished tying one of the smaller wounds with a bandage.

“What in supasin happened to you Ray?”

Ray frowned, glancing to his bag.

“Would you rather write it?” Daniel asked. Ray shook his head, signing again.

Don’t be mad.

“I’m not going to be mad at you.” He said, Ray gave him a knowing look. Daniel blushed slightly, looking away. “I can’t promise anyone else.”

Another stern look.

“I’m not going to hunt anything or one down, come on. That’s your job.” Daniel remarked, getting a bit of a laugh out of the injured sin before he started coughing. “You want something to drink? If you don’t want to talk about it we can discuss it after you--”

As Daniel had gone to get up, Ray had pulled him back down by the wrist, a concerned expression on his face. The envious focused down at his own hand as Ray held it in one of his own, the other hand moving gently to write into the man’s palm with his finger.

H.. U.. N.. T.. E.. R.. S..

Daniel felt his blood go cold, a deep frown etched into his face as he took Ray and brought him up to a sitting position, his hands on the wrathful’s shoulders.

“Ray please, tell me what happened.” he begged, moving to get the man’s pad as he saw him struggle to sign it. Ray nodded, thanking the envious as he took his charcoal pen from Daniel’s hand, and began writing. He handed over the pad, the blonde reading aloud what he had written.

“ ‘Was out on the mainland for a supply run and ran into another group of hunters. They recognized me. I fought them off but I was too injured to get home. I didn’t know where else to go.’ “ Daniel felt his fists gripping the pad so tightly his knuckles turned white, his shoulders starting to shake.

“They.. they tried to kill you again didn’t they?” he asked, only receiving a sigh and a sad nod in return. He handed the man back his pad. “Well, thank you for coming to me. You know you’re welcome here no matter what.”

“Soup’s on!” the two heard from the other room. Ray tensed up, tilting his head in surprise as he looked to the kitchen door frame before looking back to Daniel and signing.

What is Ven doing here?

Daniel sighed. “At this point, I don’t know. He was insistent on visiting with me today while I worked. I was spending most of the day sharpening my--- shit-!” he started looking around to where he dropped his scissors but it seemed that Ray beat him to it, gingerly picking them up and holding them out to the now pink sin.

“Th-thanks…” He glanced away, putting his favored pair back in the pouch on his belt where they belonged. “But yeah, he made some sort of seafood stew or something since I told him he could stay if he made dinner. It was my idea, but who knows where he got the ingredients..”

Part of that was a lie, and Daniel knew it. But he couldn’t help himself. Ray had started lighting up at the mention of seafood and he just couldn’t resist that man’s smile. It was impossible. He helped support the wrathful into the kitchen, doing his best to try and hide the deep blush on his face. The last thing he wanted right now was this moment ruined by Ven. Ven may have thought this was weird, but honestly it was all he really wanted. Sure being King sounded nice and all… but he wouldn’t mind if things stayed like this.

#dark sins au #aph hetalia #aph canada #aph romano #aph germany

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fountainpenguin · 5 years

Note

What do you think of TUFF Puppy? I see a lot of people give it flack for one reason or another, but do YOU think that’s warranted? Would you recommend the show at all? Hopefully that’s not a loaded questions. Thanks!

I was able to watch the show with my free 1-month trial on Hulu (as opposed to buying the episodes on Amazon or something), so that’s always nice, and it was a good way to keep entertained during my study breaks this semester.

I previously wrote out my general thoughts about “T.U.F.F.” in THIS post just after I finished my binge-watchif you’d like to read that too. I can expand on some thoughts in more detail more below the cut.

“T.U.F.F. Puppy” isn’t the first show that pops into my head as a recommendation for its genre (“WordGirl” is the superior crime-fighting cartoon in my mind). When it comes to secret agents, I do enjoy a good “Bruno the Kid” for its wit, slow burn character development, and the fact that some of its villains legitimately die. And when it comes to cartoons that really explore animal behavior and what it would be like to live in an anthro animal world, I’d point first to “My Gym Partner’s a Monkey.”

But for what it’s worth, “T.U.F.F. Puppy” was enjoyable. It didn’t feel like a repetitive Monster of the Week show and it had its share of fun and engaging plots. There were some worldbuilding elements I really enjoyed (such as laws protecting endangered species - including villains - and the aquarium doubling as prison for aquatic criminals). There were some fun animal behaviors that I enjoyed seeing anthropormorphized, such as Kitty bringing people dead mice to express affection and the Chief (who is a flea) sneaking drinks of Keswick’s blood when he gets hungry. Many of the jokes were creative and worked for me- for example, a background character ended up committing crimes solo for a day because his usual partners in crime were on jury duty.

It is a show aimed at 7-year-olds, so it has its share of simplistic characterizations, crude humor, and a preference for action over long-term character development. And blood. There will be blood.There are a few continuity issues as well, but they’re pretty minor details. If you’ve enjoyed the other Hartman shows and are itching for something to watch this summer, it’s a fun choice if you can find it for free. I will say that now that I’ve watched it, it’s fair game for headcanons and ‘fic allusions.

I’ve been re-watching the series with my little brother (skipping around to see my favorites instead of going chronologically this time) and it’s been enjoyable. He’s gotten really into it and we like quoting random lines at each other (There’s an entire song about how to defuse a nuclear bomb that we’re particularly fond of).

The way I see it, if you go into it with an open mind, you’ll enjoy it, and if you go into it looking for reasons to dislike it, you’ll find them. I’ve been thinking about it for a few weeks now and I think that “T.U.F.F.” might actually be my second favorite of the Hartman shows. I’m more biology-minded than tech-minded and worldbuilding-oriented than action-oriented. I could never get interested in much about “Danny Phantom” except Youngblood psychology, and as much as I adore Mikey being a manipulative narcissist, the rest of “Bunsen Is a Beast” is a little hit or miss for me.

I enjoyed how “T.U.F.F.” really drew me into the world. If you watch the show starting from Episode 1, you learn everyone’s names extremely quickly. That means every major character at T.U.F.F., every single villain, and every henchman every villain has. I believe the exteriors (and some interior rooms) of every major character’s home were seen within the first half of Season 1, except Keswick’s which was seen in Season 2. We even learned the streets of several major locations. Details like that helped strengthen my belief in the world and follow along without getting lost. Villains were often defeated through clever plots rather than just punching them into submission, which was nice too, and they were a nice blend of being goofy and legitimately threatening.

Feel free to skip anything containing the Caped Cod, though, because he’s a piece of work and you’re not missing much.

Character-wise, I would have liked to see more female characters, and more villains too. One of the awesome things about “WordGirl” is that is has a truly massive pool of villains to draw from, and they’re all fleshed out in lovely shades of moral gray. In “T.U.F.F.” you will get the same few villains over and over again, so you’d better learn to like them. Some of the villains didn’t appeal to me, while others are fascinating from a psychology / writing perspective.

I wasn’t very interested in Snaptrap (the show’s main antagonist) during my first watch. He’s your typical evil megalomaniac, but he’s also dumber than bricks and doesn’t have a lot of redeeming qualities to choose from. During my second watch, however, he’s grown on me. I’ve realized that I like him more when I listen to what he says instead of overthinking what he does. He’s probably the funniest character in the entire show, and has a whole slew of quirky lines like “If I’m so dumb, why have I been getting away with slowly poisoning you?” and “I love our new crib! It was an impulse buy. (Gasp!) We should steal a baby to put in it!” One of his quirks is that ambiguity trips him up, so he’s easily confused and has a lot of quasi-insightful thoughts about mundane things… it’s hilarious.

Snaptrap’s not that bright, but he’s incredibly impulsive with a knack for building destructive weapons and promptly losing them. He also has a streak of affection for kids and is a surprisingly good parent when put in that position (He’s absolutely the type who would encourage his kids to follow their dreams and would support them every step of the way, which is an interesting quality for a villain). Literally the first thing he did when he realized he’d accidentally cloned himself was send his clone into the world to live the happy life he didn’t get to have. He grows on me more and more each day. He’s fun.

I like the Chameleon (the second main antagonist of the show) a lot. I favor neutral characters, and the Chameleon tends to base his loyalties on the kindness others show him. Sadly for him, both the good guys and the bad guys find him clingy and annoying, so he ends up ping-ponging back and forth between whichever side he believes will cause him the least amount of pain (When he knows he’s upset powerful enemies, he’ll try to hide in either jail or witness protection to avoid facing consequences).

His motives for most crimes are hilariously petty. He’ll target vacation spots where he had a bad experience or attempt to burn the whole city because he thinks the heating company takes advantage of him for being cold-blooded. He’s the type of villain who commits international crimes purely to earn the “international criminal” bragging rights, but he’s also the type of villain who will drive random strangers to the airport mid-crime attempt despite it being out of his way. He’s described himself as someone who “doesn’t always make the best choices, but you just can’t help rooting for anyway.”

The Chameleon is arguably the smartest of the main villain trio, but his weakness is that he’ll let his “friends” walk all over him in a desperate attempt to maintain one-sided friendships. In Season 2 he got himself tangled in a terribly abusive relationship with his girlfriend and is completely in denial that she’s only interested in him for his money. He’s exactly the type of quirky villain I’m interested in. I’d love to tap inside his head for a ‘fic or two.

The third main villain, Bird Brain, isn’t one of my favorites. I did enjoy a lot of the minor villains, such as the members of F.L.O.P.P. (the Fiendish League of Potential Perpetrators) who think they’re way more evil than they really are. Meerkat is particularly interesting. He’s obviously in the criminal business for fame rather than fortune, but planning isn’t his strong suit. He can organize a get-together, put together an evil lair, scout for useful weapons, he’s great at pep talks, he has connections- he can do EVERYTHING on the spectrum to put a criminal organization in motion, except actually think up ambitious plans. He works so hard, but he’s his own worst enemy.

He’s like an evil secretary.He really needs a boss to design plans for him and keep him on track and pat him on the head and tell him he’s doing a good job. If Snaptrap ever took him into D.O.O.M. (and listened to him), he’d have organization and Meerkat would have muscle. Seeing ‘kat run with the big kids for a day would be interesting, I think.

Anyway, there’s a nice handful of engaging characters in the show and some fun episode plots as well. The worldbuilding is decent, though there’s still room for headcanons to expound upon. I’d recommend it to anyone who thinks they might like it, because if you have a good attitude, you’ll see it as a good show. It has its ups and downs, but it’s cute and clever overall. There are three seasons worth of episodes (Seasons 1 and 2 have 50 individual episodes each) so if you watch it, you’re sure to find something in there you enjoy!

#asks #Anon #Eyyy Hartman gang!#Spy dog show #Vile Verminious #Lonely lizard #No mere cat #The tag I should check later

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daresplaining · 6 years

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So what's Matt's relationship with Stick like? It's clearly very complicated and I don't know what to make of it. Because Matt seems equally frustrated with Stick (telling Jessica, Luke, and Danny that Stick is very good at manipulating people), yet also clearly felt affection for the guy (given how he teared up when telling Foggy what happened).

Yes, it’s… complicated.

In the comics (as in the show), Stick enters Matt’s life during a period of turmoil. Matt has just lost his sight, and finds himself trapped in a new, torturous world that he doesn’t know how to deal with and can’t discuss with his father. His whole childhood was defined by confinement, with Jack’s well-meaning over-protection forcing him to sneak out on his own to indulge his restlessness nature. After his accident, Matt sees this one source of freedom closed off, seemingly forever. He feels powerless, frightened, angry, and alone.

Caption: “That night. In the gym. It used to be Matt’s favorite place– but now it’s filled with cries of frustration– tearful fury– and low sobs that speak of defeat. He can’t see. He can’t see. He’s useless.”

Daredevil: The Man Without Fear #1 by Frank Miller, John Romita, Jr., and Christie Scheele

Stick saves him from this despair. He understands Matt on a fundamental level– something Matt has never experienced before. (He and Jack are very close, of course, but they don’t fully get each other.) They’re similar people– two big personalities capable of challenging each other, which is part of what makes their interactions so much fun. Stick offers Matt hope and– more importantly– power. With Stick’s help, Matt fashions something he saw only as a weakness into a new source of strength, and he rediscovers his own freedom and independence, which has become even more important to him since his blinding. And while his training is hard, and Stick is an unforgiving teacher, Matt is a stubborn, hard-headed thrill-seeker, and in between the frustration, pain, and occasional terror, he enjoys learning to fight and use his powers. While Jack cares for Matt in mundane ways, Stick understands his need for freedom, adventure, and empowerment, and encourages behavior that his dad would never, ever allow.

(Pictured below: Jack Murdock nightmare fuel.)

Caption: “The nights are the best. When Matt wakes before dawn– and, as always, Stick is there– and they dance, unseen…”

Daredevil: The Man Without Fear #1 by Frank Miller, John Romita, Jr., and Christie Scheele

Caption: “He remembers feeling alive– in a way he never had before. The city was alive, too: he could hear every night-sigh, every bellow of rage, every desperate cry of hope. Catch the scent of an insomniac’s three A.M. cigarette. Of pooling blood. Of shedding tears. All of it– the pain and the joy, the terrors and the triumphs– washing over him as he sucked in his breath, made the leap… captured the night in the palm of his hand. But no matter how high he leaped, how far he went, his teacher pushed him higher, farther.”

Daredevil vol. 1 #349 by J.M. DeMatteis, Cary Nord, and Christie Scheele

Matt: “Stick! I made it, Stick! That was awesome! Right? It’s like I was flying! Whaddaya got t’say to that, old man? Huh?”

Daredevil vol. 3 #25 by Mark Waid, Chris Samnee, and Javier Rodriguez

(Stick calls Matt “punk”, Matt calls Stick “old man”. Aren’t they great?)

Matt knows that, essentially, he owes his life to Stick, and their team-ups when Matt is an adult reveal a functional working relationship and sense of mutual trust.

Matt: “Hallucinated, just as I was taking that last shot. Relived a promise to my father that I made as a child. That promise made my childhood a misery, Stick. The neighborhood ridiculed me horribly, made me so angry…”

Stick: “All the things that’ve made you feel that way… they’re obstacles in yer mind, keepin’ it from workin’ right […]. You gotta dig deeper now, Matt. You gotta face the enemies in yer head. An’ they’re just as real to you as if they was flesh and blood. They can kill you. Scared?”

Matt: “No.”

Daredevil vol. 1 #177 by Frank Miller, Klaus Janson, and Glynis Wein

But Matt also resents him, to a certain degree. While “I hated that man. But he taught me well” (from DD vol. 3 #25, excerpted above) feels like an oversimplification, it speaks to Matt’s conflicting feelings regarding his teacher. The main comic doesn’t show us their initial falling-out, so we have to assume it’s the same as what happens in the Man Without Fear mini-series– which isn’t entirely within the regular continuity, but exists alongside it and often informs it. (You’ll notice we’re referencing it a lot in this post.) In MWF, Matt’s training ends when Stick deems him too volatile and emotional, as evidenced by his all-encompassing relationship with Elektra and his violent treatment of the people who killed his father. (The actual degree of violence in Matt’s revenge quest varies between MWF and the normal continuity… but in both cases he goes out and attacks people for emotional reasons, so we can assume Stick’s response is the same.)

Matt: “Stick– what–”

Stick: “Shut up and listen. That girl is poison. She’s on her way to the worst side and she’ll drag you down with her. It’s bad enough you failed me. I won’t have you joining the enemy. I’ll kill you first.”

Daredevil: The Man Without Fear #3 by Frank Miller, John Romita, Jr., and Christie Scheele

(We have major issues with the way Elektra is portrayed in Man Without Fear, but that’s a topic for another post.)

Being cast aside in this way would be enough to make anyone resentful. Stick is right– Matt is extremely emotional, which often impacts his judgement– but Matt also has a lot of pride, and rejection hurts. His reunion with Stick as an adult is short, as Stick ends up sacrificing his life to protect Matt, Natasha (Black Widow), and Stone shortly thereafter. But he lingers on as a kind of sentient ghost, haunting both Matt and Elektra and offering up advice, for a long while afterward– which allows their relationship further exploration. Mostly, we’d characterize Matt’s attitude toward him as grudging respect and admiration. Matt would never choose to hang out with Stick, he recognizes that he’s a massive jerk (takes one to know one, right?), and he is fine with not having been chosen to join Stick’s super secret boy band. But he’s also willing to go to Stick for help when he needs it, and to trust in his advice… and as we said, he is grateful for everything that Stick has given him.

The situation in the Netflix show is similar– with one vital alteration. The sting of Stick’s rejection is far sharper in this universe due to Matt’s young age (616 Matt and Stick didn’t cut off contact until Matt was in college), and the fact that he doesn’t encounter Stick until after his father’s death. By switching the order of events and removing Jack from the narrative early (we’re not huge fans of this choice, for the record), Stick’s significance in Matt’s life increases. In the comics, Stick is a mentor and parental figure, sure– a kind of counterpoint to Jack– but in the show he is Matt’s only parental figure (that he knows of, anyway). When he has lost the one person he had in his life, Stick appears. And Matt clings to him all the more tightly because of it. 616 Matt would never have made Stick a dang bracelet. That wasn’t the nature of their relationship because that warm, fuzzy parental role was still filled by Jack. But Netflix Matt needs someone to hug him and take him to the park and tuck him in and do all the normal caregiver things… and that’s not what Stick is there for. He doesn’t want to get attached to Matt the way he grew attached to Elektra, and he certainly doesn’t want Matt getting attached to him.

Reaching out for that kind of love and being rejected, losing another father, is a terrible experience for young Matt. Thus, his resentment of Stick is far more powerful in this universe– but so is his emotional attachment. After they get their initial, obligatory name-calling out of the way, Matt is friendly to his mentor when he first reappears. The discovery of the bracelet among Stick’s belongings clearly hits Matt like a truck, showing that on some level, he still cares that Stick might think of him as a son.

And while he doesn’t have much time to mourn, he cries when he realizes that Elektra has killed Stick.

(This moment, by the way, is probably multi-faceted grief. He is upset that Elektra killed someone, he is upset that she had the capacity to kill Stick (who is her father figure too), and he is upset that Stick is dead. It’s just a depressing situation on all levels.)

This underlying attachment– which, evidence suggests, is mutual, and part of the reason Stick broke off contact in the first place– clashes with Matt’s anger and resentment, and the manipulation that becomes apparent throughout both seasons of Daredevil and The Defenders. On the surface, Netflix Matt hates Stick and his lying and scheming and emotional abuse. But underneath… it’s complicated.

#Daredevil #Netflix Daredevil #Stick #Matt Murdock #Asks #Commentary

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iamthedukeofurl · 7 years

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How to Make a Good Iron Fist

So, it sounds like Iron Fist Sucks, for a variety of reasons. An undue focus on corporate law, shitty fight scenes, and unironic embracing of the White Savior myth. The thing is, Iron Fist is a tricky story, Not in the “This is a deeply complex character that requires careful handling” sense, but in the “This is kind of a shitty premise at its core, but it has been granted legitimacy due to its popularity and history” sense. Iron Fist is a faberge egg full of dog shit. It can work, but don’t drop it or inhale too deeply.

Let’s start with Race (Disclaimer, Duke is a White, Cis, Straight male who has never known financial hardship in his life.) The “White Savior” narrative is stupid, so the obvious solution is to make him not-white. If you don’t want him to be Asian for some reason (Possibly because you’re afraid of making him the stereotypical Asian Kung Fu Guy), make him Black, or Latino, or Mixed-Race, just to avoid the whole “White Savior” thing.

But, okay, you want to stick to the comics, so you make him White. Lets say we’ve already cast Finn Jones as Danny Rand, Now you have the story of the White Guy who goes to the not-white place and becomes The Best At The Thing, where do you go from there?

For as much as Doctor Strange is neck-deep in the same bullshit, the recent movie actually resolved that particular problem in an interesting way. While talented, Strange was NOT the best magical kung-fu wizard. His great victories were due to luck, cleverness, and abuse of an overpowered magic item (The Eye of Agamotto) rather than greater skill with magic kung-fu. I don’t recall a time in the film when he beats even one of the mook-wizards in a straight fight. He’s not the Chosen One, he’s a talented rookie who grabs a lightsaber while everybody else is using fencing foils.

So, rather than denying the metatextual context of “The Chosen One” being the Rich White Orphan, let’s lean into it.

Iron Fist Backstory 101: Danny Rand’s father is the head of Rand Industries, a nondescript but very successful company. They are in a plane crash in Asia, his father dies, Danny is taken in by a mystical city of martial artists, who train him. Eventually, he emerges from a pool of candidates to become The Iron Fist, so he punches a dragon in the heart and gains it’s superpowers, then goes back to New York.

I obviously don’t know how the Netflix show does it, but in my version, the Magic Kung-Fu People are preparing an Iron Fist to lead the fight against the Hand (Evil Magic Ninjas). The Hand has been spreading their influence, and has a lot of wealth and power at their disposal in addition to magical martial arts, so the Kung-Fu people decide to even the score. When selecting the next Iron Fist, they choose Danny Rand, not because he’s the best magic kung-fu guy they have, but because they expect that he’ll be able to leverage the wealth and power of Rand Industries into the fight against the Hand.

So, Danny is convinced he’s The Baddest Motherfucker Around. His teachers rig the selection process, and focus his training on the techniques he’ll need to successfully punch a dragon in the heart, rather than win a fight against a human. So, he does so, and now he’s the Immortal Iron Fist. He goes back to New York to claim his company and lead the other candidates in the fight against the Hand. At which point, he learns that you can’t just walk into a building, say you’re the long-lost heir, and get access to the bank accounts.

So, he calls up the Magic Kung-Fu Guys and says “Hey, Iron Fist here. Bad news about the international corporation that I was supposed to use. But, the Hand is here, and they’re causing trouble, so, send in the other Iron Fist Candidates and i’ll lead them into battle!”

To which the Kung-Fu guys say “Well...we kind of made you the Iron Fist because we wanted your company. Congrats on the superpowers, take the fight to the Hand, but all the other candidates really, really hate you, and are kind of waiting for you to die so one of them can become the Iron Fist. So, you’re on your own.”

So, Danny has no army of martial artists at his back. “Whatever” he says, “I’ll recruit my own support. After all, I’m the Iron Fist, the Best Martial Artist in the world!”

Which is where we get Colleen Wing. He identifies her as a good recruit, she identifies him as a punk bitch who thinks he found enlightenment during a summer backpacking through Tibet, and they square up. And she kicks his ass, at first anyway. Don’t get me wrong, Danny Rand is good, you don’t spend your childhood learning mystic martial arts without being good. But his fundamentals are weak, his teachers indulged and coddled him to make him look like the Best Martial Artist, and to make sure he could fight the Dragon. He specializes in more outlandish, showy techniques: Flying kicks, pressure point strikes, acrobatic feints that lead into devastating combos, ect. But every time he tries to do one of those moves Colleen puts a foot in his kidney. He’s just not fast enough to use any of those moves against a master martial artist.

That is, until Danny activates the power of the Iron Fist, his chest tattoo glows, and he surges with power. Suddenly, he’s fast enough to dodge Colleen, tough enough to shrug off her blows, and strong enough to power through her guards. His wire-fu techniques work when his body is boosted by magic to make up for his lack of fundamental skills. He wins, stopping himself just before he causes her serious injury.

So, this sets up the Dynamic for our two leads, at least as far as Martial Arts goes. Danny’s showy, magic-kung fu techniques CAN work, but only if he juices himself up on Dragon Power. But, because Danny isn’t ACTUALLY the Worthy Wielder of the power, he can’t keep that up for too long without serious consequences on his body. His teachers were not aware of these consequences, because all previous Iron Fists had been the best fighters around, good enough that they didn’t need to channel the Dragon’s power for an extended period of time, and tough enough to avoid side-effects of using the Power.

Colleen joins Danny in helping to thwart the Hand, while also training him in the practical fundamentals that his teachers skipped in order to speed up his journey to being a convincing Iron Fist. Thus, you get to have two types of fight scenes. More “Realistic” Fights, where Danny and Colleen beat up goons in alleyways, and the occasional crazy Wire-Fu fight, where Danny channels the Dragon’s power to take on Hand Ninjas. Meanwhile, Danny gets better at the traditional stuff as Colleen trains him, potentially leading up to a final confrontation where, unable to use the Iron Fist powers for some reason, he’s forced to defeat his superpowered opponents entirely through mundane martial arts.

This also provides a strong character arc for Danny. He needs to deal with the realization that he didn’t become Iron Fist on his own merits, that he is in over his head, and that he still has an important job to do despite all of that. He arrives in New York on a high horse, and must first break down his ego, then rebuild himself as a humble, but still confident and determined, person. He has to become a hero worthy of the title. Finally, one of the main complaints I’ve seen is too much focus on corporate politics. If reclaiming his company is a key part of the plan to stop the villains, that adds some more stakes to the whole struggle, rather than “Danny wants money”.

#Iron Fist #Marvel Netflix #The Duke Declares #Danny Rand #Armchair producing

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five-rivers · 4 years

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Manuscript

Phic Phight phic phor @phantomroyalty. I'm experimenting with a slightly different Clockwork. Sort of inspired by those prompts I did late last month.

Once, there were half-ghosts.

Danny knew this, now, drumming his fingers on the hard plastic surface of the binder he'd borrowed from Sam. Written on one cover in purple sharpie was the title 'Voynich Manuscript.' It was, according to Sam, an untranslated 15th century work that had baffled cryptologists and linguists for years and years.

Danny could read it. It had been written by a half-ghost.

At least, that was the claim, and, considering that Danny could read this language he'd never learned, Danny was inclined to agree. He opened the binder again, running his fingers down the printed pictures of the pages. He'd been doing that off and on throughout the evening, ever since Sam had showed it to him, instead of doing his homework.

It was comforting. Strange, but comforting, to know that Vlad had not been the first half-ghost. To know that there were other paths to his future than 'bitter old man,' even if the other visible path was 'weird botanist.' To know that Vlad's issues really were Vlad's issues, and not half-ghost issues.

The book was about ghost plants, what they did, what they were good for, how to find them, and when to harvest them, complete with maps, time tables, and recipes. It was a sort of almanac, almost. A very out of date, almanac, true, and Danny was pretty sure those islands weren't arranged like that, at least not any more, but still...

And it had been written by a half ghost. That, more than anything else, was what kept drawing Danny to the pages. The author had barely mentioned their identity, skimming over their origins in the first couple of pages, but every plant had notes regarding how it affected half-ghosts in particular, every recipe was tuned for the half-ghost anatomy, with side effects listed for humans and ghosts as an afterthought.

Danny slowly leafed through the pages, occasionally pausing when sentences jumped out at him.

This book had been written by a half-ghost. It had been written for half-ghosts.

Once, there had been half-ghosts. Many of them.

What had happened?

There were a limited number of people he could ask. He threw the book into his backpack, shouldered it, turned himself invisible and dropped through the floor. He fell through the kitchen and into the lab, whereupon he slowed his fall to a gradual drift and set himself down lightly on the floor.

His parents were, of course, working in the lab, but they didn't notice Danny. He padded by them, silent, and snagged the remote for the portal doors from the table. After taking a moment to make sure they didn't notice the sudden disappearance of the remote from the table, Danny pressed the button and darted through the still-opening doors.

Safely in the Ghost Zone, Danny released his invisibility, which he still found tiring to use for long periods of time, and went ghost. Ghostly tail streaming behind him, Danny flew to the lair of the only ghost he could be sure had all the answers.

The clock tower certainly lived up to the 'tower' part of its name, looming tall above Danny as he approached the front doors. Not that it didn't live up to the 'clock' part. It did. And the surrounding zone kept up the theme with all the gears floating around. It all added to the sense of foreboding about the place.

But what really pulled it off was the faint, persistent ringing sound that hung just on the edge of Danny's hearing, like that of a large bell that had been rung just a moment ago, its sound perpetually fading into imperceptibility but never quite getting there.

The doors opened as Danny raised his hand to knock on them. Danny always at least tried to knock on the doors, because the time he hadn't, he had walked right into them. Clockwork had a weird sense of humor.

"Clockwork?" called Danny, floating into the large main hall and searching the corners.

"Yes, Daniel?" said Clockwork, once again managing to wind up right behind Danny despite Danny's best efforts.

As always, Danny tried to hide how startled he was by turning and smoothing down his ruffled hair.

"Hi," said Danny. Clockwork smiled. "So, uh, I'm guessing you know why I'm here?"

"Yes," drawled Clockwork, circling Danny once, then floating away.

Danny flew after him. "I'm just, well, you understand why I'm curious, right?" asked Danny as they flew into a narrow hallway lined with time mirrors. Each one held an image of a different time, a different age. All the mirrors on the left were of the Ghost Zone, and all the mirrors on the right were of Earth.

"I do."

"So, you know what happened to them, right? All the halfas?"

"Of course," said Clockwork, stopping to face an image of a city that might have been London.

Danny drifted to peer over his shoulder. "Will you tell me? At least, what they were like?" he asked, hopefully.

His blood when cold(er) when Clockwork shifted to look at him. The expression on Clockwork's face was pure trickster mentor.

"Oh, Daniel. You know I like you to find answers like that on your own time."

"Yeah, um, I'll just-"

Clockwork pushed him. Danny tumbled back, farther than the hallway should have allowed. Heck, heck, heck.

He righted himself, hands going to his chest. They seized on something small and round. When had Clockwork managed to slip a time medallion onto him?

After a beat he processed his question and snorted at himself. Clockwork could have put the medallion on him at any time. That was kind of Clockwork's whole thing.

Danny looked around himself. He was still in the Ghost Zone (unless, of course, the Earth's sky had turned green for some reason), but the land beneath him spread out in all directions. There was even a slightly curved horizon.

Directly beneath him was a city. The streets were all covered over with blue cloth awnings, and the buildings sparkled like crystal.

Alright. So, Danny had a couple of choices. One, he could take the medallion off right now, go home, and have to learn whatever lesson Clockwork was trying to teach him the hard(er?) way. Two, he could stick around and (possibly) get the answer to one or more of his questions. Probably a lot of trauma, too, considering he'd asked about why the other half-ghosts were all gone, but he could take the medallion off whenever, provided that no one decided to phase it into his chest.

Were there half-ghosts in the city beneath him?

He wanted, needed to know.

Letting go of the medallion, he flew down diagonally, reaching ground level a good distance outside the city. He didn't know what the etiquette was for entering this city, but starting off at the gates was probably a good idea.

When he reached them, skimming along the purple earth, the gates were wide and open, the tunnel they formed in the wall carved with abstract swirls. There were no guards that Danny could see, and no one was going in or out through the gates, but Danny still proceeded cautiously. Beyond the gates he could hear the noise and bustle of a crowd, and, sure enough, as soon as he got past the first building he found himself in a marketplace.

This was not the first marketplace he'd seen in the Ghost Zone, and it had many familiar features. Unidentifiable glowing plants, glowing potion jars, glowing clothing, glowing powders, things with too many legs being sold as food, a lot of glowing in general, poison-bright colors on otherwise mundane merchandise, things that floated, rugs with kaleidoscoping patterns, etcetera.

The difference was that so many of the shoppers and merchants were human.

No, he corrected himself as he caught one of them changing forms with a pair of bright blue rings, they were halfas.

Danny stayed in the market place and listened.

He listened to gossip and haggling and children playing with each other and begging for their parents to buy them this or that. He listened to merchants advertising their wares. He listened to a young man not much older than himself complaining about new powers. No one pointed Danny out as unusual, even when he switched forms a few times.

It was amazing, just seeing half-ghosts live like this. He wished he could talk to them, but although he could understand what they were saying, he had no confidence in his ability to pronounce the words.

It was just so peaceful.

A shape fell through the blue awnings stretched above the marketplace, tearing them and pulling down some of the poles and booths they were attached to. People screeched and shouted. Merchandise escaped. From the epicenter of the wreckage, a man stood, eyes flickering between sea green and toxic glowing orange.

"Lord Dimidius!" shouted one woman. "What has happened?"

The man's face was twisted in pain and fury. "Pariah Dark has declared war on us."

A hush fell over the market. Except for the chickens. Chickens feared neither man, ghost, or god.

"Why? My lord?" asked one of the men, floating forward.

"The Observants," Dimidius said, spitting, "gave him a prophecy that one of us will someday end his rule."

"Then let's make it true!"

"Time out," said Clockwork, putting a hand on Danny's shoulder. The scene froze, chickens and all.

Danny had been right about the trauma.

"Was this," said Danny, "about me fighting him? Did all these people die because I fought him, and the Observants saw that?"

"No," said Clockwork. "Ultimately, Pariah was looking for an excuse. The Observants wanted to give him one. The prophecy, as far as they knew, wasn't true. They made it up. Besides, Pariah doesn't succeed in taking this city for another hundred years, and most of the younger residents were able to flee to the human world."

Danny exhaled. "Really?"

"Would I lie to you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you would."

Clockwork laughed. "Let's get you home." He opened a portal. "Other than the revelation at the end, did you have a good time?"

"Yeah," said Danny. "I did."

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2020

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recentanimenews · 5 years

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THE GREAT CRUNCHYROLL NARUTO REWATCH Sees Four BIG Returns In Episodes 120-126!

Welcome back to the Great Crunchyroll Naruto Rewatch! I'm Jared Clemons, and I'll be your host this week as we make our way through all 220 episodes of the original Naruto. Last week, we covered Episodes 113-119, where Shikamaru’s newly assembled team faced off against the Sound Four and we saw Choji and Neji fight for their lives against two very tough opponents.

This week we keep the rewatch moving with Episodes 120-126 which saw FOUR big returns from Rock Lee and the Sand Siblings of Gaara, Temari, and Kankuro who are now on the side of Leaf Village. Naruto’s very angry and sends a bunch of shadow clones to fight against some body horror while Kiba and Shikamaru have their own fights against the rest of the Sound Four. How will these big returns help out the remaining members of Shikamaru’s squad and are they able to break free to find a way to get to Sasuke while he continues to be carried in his box?

It’s been nice that both times I’ve hosted the rewatch, we’ve got to see Rock Lee come in and do something cool, even if this time his return might have been a tad rushed. Plus, seeing the Sand Siblings return was perhaps the biggest shock I’ve gotten from this show so far. So, what did the other members of the Crunchyroll Features team think of Shikamaru, Kiba, and Naruto’s fights or the four big returns? How about what they think about what will happen with next week’s big main event showdown between Naruto and Sasuke?

Let's check in with the Crunchyroll Features team and see what they thought about this week's batch of episodes.

We start off these episodes with Kiba taking on Sakon & Ukon while Shikamaru has his hands full with Tayuya and her flute solos. How did you feel about these two fights after the ones we just saw with Choji and Neji? Were they too similar in nature or did they do enough to be different?

Paul: While I appreciate that Kiba was willing to straight up shank himself in order to stab his enemy, I could have done with less strategic ninja peeing on the part of Akamaru. Likewise, while I enjoyed Shikamaru's intense planning, once again his strategy ultimately proves inadequate in the face of raw power and he has to rely on someone else saving his bacon at the last minute. For me, Choji and Neji's fights were more engaging, even if all of these fights are treading similar ground.

Kevin: Choji’s fight is in a different category for me, since it is the culmination of his characterization to that point. None of the other fights have been treated with the same weight as Choji finally giving it his all. For the other fights, they’re narratively similar to each other, but all manage to stand apart by having different mechanics and narratives. Kiba’s constantly on the run, Shikamaru’s hiding and plotting while Neji was being attacked from all angles constantly.

Carolyn: I agree. I did like seeing Shikamaru at a loss for what to do for a hot minute. But it seemed like overall, last week’s fights were a lot more intense and were intercut with character growth and Choji and Neji’s friends learning their strengths. That was definitely more compelling for me.

Danni: It felt a lot less compelling watching these fights, honestly. A lot less actually happened. Seeing Shikamaru plot fifteen steps ahead is always cool in action, but the lead up to it was a lot of him running around. Kiba’s fight was mostly canned footage reminiscing about how much he loves his dog. It’s sweet, but come on. Who doesn’t love dogs.

Joseph: The constant back and forth between these fights was fun but made each episode feel the same. Out of the main showdowns I dug the first half of Shikamaru’s the most, but it lost me a little when it became a long-form shadow hug-out.

David: I think this is the start of where the huge power imbalances in this show start to get in the way of the fights being satisfying. Like Paul mentioned, it really doesn’t matter how well-planned a strategy is when the enemy’s power is so overwhelmingly strong you need someone like Temari to bail you out with a single swing of her fan.

Noelle: Definitely agree with the rest here, Shikamaru at a loss of what to do when being brute-forced by an enemy is pretty interesting to see. Wits can absolutely help you in a pinch, but sometimes it just isn’t enough. I think the fights all do cover different things—they have similarities, but they’re different enough to not feel like complete repeats. I did think that last week’s was much more action-heavy though.

Kara: I really like both Kiba and Shikamaru, so I was ready for some epic action with these two in the vein of last week. I didn’t mind the Akamaru reminiscing all that much because Dogs Are Just That Good, but I do feel like they kind of got the short end of the stick. I do, however, appreciate Shikamaru memorizing Tayuya’s hand movements to account for his lack of musical knowledge.

Naruto slightly gives into the Nine Tails side and we see that side of him pop out again. However, it doesn’t really seem to bother Kimimaro as he just plays his own version of Dynasty Warriors with Naruto’s clones. Should Naruto have implemented a different strategy here or was he too blinded by rage to come up with anything different?

Paul: Perhaps it's my penchant for all things lycanthropic, but I keep hoping they'll do more with Naruto and his partial fox transformations. Instead we got four or five episodes of Naruto tossing Shadow Clones at a guy who made short work of them with a bone-sword (ewwwwww!), and that is not terribly dramatic staging for a duel to the death. I didn't gather that Naruto was supposed to be blinded by rage; it just felt like they were stalling for time.

Kevin: He was probably too blind to think clearly, but he also isn’t the kind of character to come up with much of a plan. Outside of the Shadow Clone Shuriken jutsu from the Zabuza fight, his strategies pretty much all come down to “make clones, punch the enemy a lot,” with the new addition of “make clones, use Rasengan.”

Carolyn: I honestly just could not get over the little “pew” sound every time a clone was taken out.

Danni: The first time we saw Beast mode Naruto was against Haku, and in that fight he actually fought like a feral beast. It was rad, and the fact that nothing of the sort has happened since has been an utter disappointment.

Joseph: Naruto has proven in the past that he can have one or two really clever ideas so his reliance on Shadow Clones is kind of disappointing. I could give it a pass as a way to test an enemy before facing them, but he doesn’t seem to come up with much beyond it when facing these stronger characters.

David: He probably could have come up with a more interesting plan, but honestly I’m not even sure what he could have done in that situation 1-on-1, especially once we see what Kimimaro can do against Lee and Gaara later.

Noelle: He’s blinded by rage, but I didn’t think that it was too jarring. Naruto can be creative, but strategy definitely isn’t one of his stronger points. It’s hard to think clearly when you’re running on mostly instinct.

Kara: I really like the Shadow Clones when they’re used as a basis for something else—like I’ve said before, I think it’s such a good metaphor for more mundane differences in learning styles in the real world. I hesitate to say he “should have done more” or “could have done better” because I sure as heck can’t think of what he should have done.

Rock Lee makes his return to help Naruto out in his fight with Kimimaro and debuts a new fighting style by accidentally getting hammered. What did you think of his new drunken style? Do you think the speed of his recovery back into fighting shape matches up with him being able to fight at all given the last time we saw him he wanted to just climb stairs?

Paul: Drunken Boxing is probably my favorite cinematic kung fu style, and I liked that the animation got a little loosey-goosey to go along with Lee's inebriated state, but it's really hard to pull off that martial arts style within the constraints of TV anime production. What we got was a little bit Jackie Chan, a little bit Bruce Lee, and a little bit of “The Sleeping Wizard” from John Woo's Last Hurrah for Chivalry. As for Lee's recovery, it was a lot of build-up for very little pay-off. After all of that business about having a nearly 50/50 chance to live or die, Lee has the surgery off-screen, and he's mostly fine afterwards!

Kevin: I would find Drunken Fist way more entertaining if it was in basically any other part of the narrative. Seeing Lee not being allowed to climb stairs earlier the same day really doesn’t work well with how fluidly he fights, especially before becoming drunk. If he can still do a modified Leaf Hurricane, I’m not sure why Tsunade was holding him back. That being said, Guy’s cutaways to the restaurant when Lee went out of control still got me to laugh a little, so clearly something is working correctly.

Carolyn: Rock Lee! It is weird that he’s OK already. But I don’t care. Give me more Rock Lee. Rock Lee all day every day. Honestly, not sure I care for drunk Rock Lee. It’s a new version of him, that’s for sure. But I like goofy, socially awkward, good boy Rock Lee.

Danni: It REALLY bothered me when he showed up out of nowhere, but then we got an awesomely animated taijutsu battle. Then we got to see freaking Drunken Fist Rock Lee and I forgave any and all plot contrivances that had led up to that moment. It was stupid and cool in all the best ways. Now I really wanna watch Drunken Master.

Joseph: I thought the whole point was that he wasn’t okay but was there anyway. Getting drunk was a good way to mitigate any potential issues with fighting stiffly and injuring himself further. I would have rather they planted the seed for this earlier, though. It would have been more satisfying if we had seen his restaurant destruction as a goof in a previous episode rather than Guy shoehorning the whole alcohol issue in right before this went down.

With that said, I still love Rock Lee and enjoyed his fight! The animation wasn’t quite capable of handling drunken style fighting, and I wish he didn’t sober up so quickly, but it did the trick.

David: I really don’t mind how quick the turnover was from when we last saw him and now, because the journey from his fight with Gaara to his recovery took way too long in the first place; we’re just making up for lost time, really. Also, taijutsu is the coolest stuff in Naruto, so I’ll take any excuse to see two ninja really duking it out.

Noelle: Drunken fist is such a classic martial arts cinema thing, and I am always here for that. It’s a great and fun battle! As for his turnover time, it is pretty fast all things considering, but it doesn’t matter to me- we get more Lee. Enough said.

Kara: As soon as I saw we were getting Drunken Fist action, I could not have been happier. That was freaking awesome. My thought going into this week was that I wouldn’t mind his ridiculously speedy recovery provided it was in aid of getting to see something really cool. That’s kind of how it worked out, so I’m happy.

This set of episodes is return-palooza as we also get the return of the Sand trio of Gaara, Temari, and Kankuro. They’re also now babyfaces having transitioned from being heels by aligning with the Leaf village. This return was perhaps the biggest shock I’ve had so far in watching Naruto, but what did you think of how their return was handled? Should we consider them true allies or more in the vein of mercenaries who will go help anyone for the right price?

Paul: This was another big reveal that was spoiled for me because I had to scroll through the list of episodes to find where I'd left off last week, and the episode titles and thumbnails give away that the Sand Siblings are back and antagonistic to the Sound Five. I wish I hadn't known that going in. As for their loyalties, they seem fine so far, and Gaara especially seems to have absorbed the lessons that Naruto lovingly walloped into him. Do I spot the first sparks of romance between Shikamaru and Temari?

Kevin: I have no idea how to answer, and that’s probably my biggest problem with these episodes. We never got a scene with Tsunade debating whether to send help, or a cutaway to what the Sand Ninja were doing, or anything else that would’ve hinted at them returning in any way, then they just show up as full on allies. If they were mercenaries, that would actually make MORE sense and would be an interesting plot point, since whether to tell their village how weak the Leaf is at the moment would serve as a character moment for them, testing whether they were truly just in it for the money or if they were truly becoming allies.

Carolyn: It was very strange to me to see Gaara and Rock Lee fighting together like everything is hunky dory after Gaara broke Rock Lee and then returned to try to kill him while he was stuck in the HOSPITAL.

Danni: I definitely spoiled myself on this by scrolling ahead to see what episode to stop on, but their appearance was still one of the coolest things in this batch. It also just makes sense to me. They’re soldiers acting on orders. Yesterday’s enemy can be today’s ally. Interestingly, Gaara of all people seems to feel the most sympathy for the Hidden Village shinobi now. I can’t wait to see how this plays out.

Joseph: I loved it. I knew it was coming but they each had such cool entrances I didn’t care!

David: They are some of my favorite characters, so I was happy they showed up—I’d completely forgotten they were in this arc, actually. However, they also represent the power disparity I mentioned in an earlier question, so it’s a double-edged sword. Lee shows up and kicks butt, but when whatever he can do is basically immediately rendered moot by Gaara’s powers, it’s kind of disheartening.

Noelle: What can I say but the power of friendship. I like the sand siblings a lot, so I was just really happy when they reappeared. They do appear at extremely convenient times, which can feel a little anticlimactic, but I’m glad they’re around. Gaara! I missed you, Gaara.

Kara: I’m divided. On the one hand, I’m not a big fan of badasses being saved from certain doom by badasses who arrived slightly later. On the other, I’m all about getting to see these sand kiddos as allies. Also, Gaara’s got a sort of Season 3 Zuko vibe going on (or maybe Season 3 Zuko had a Sasuke Recovery Mission Arc Gaara vibe going on).

We are building toward Naruto vs. Sasuke happening for real next week. For you first time watchers, what are you expecting from this fight and for those who have watched, has the build matched what you remember?

Paul: If I were writing the show, I would have Naruto suffer his first serious defeat by having him be unable to convince or conquer Sasuke. This would force Naruto into a deep moment of introspection and require him to examine what it truly means for him to follow his own “Ninja Way” in his efforts to become the next Hokage. I have no idea how it will actually play out, though.

Kevin: Having watched before, I actually thought that the Sound Ninja Four stuff went by more quickly. I seriously thought that we were going to end this week at the climax of Naruto vs. Sasuke. Instead, I hope you like Kiba bleeding to death, Shikamaru sitting in a tree, and Naruto running through trees, because you’re going to keep cutting from one of those options to one of the others for the majority of the runtime, with the occasional reminder that Lee’s somehow not killing himself by fighting.

Carolyn: I thought the hospital roof fight came about inorganically. “You must fight me!” This time it does feel like there’s much more of a reason for a showdown. Sasuke’s gone rogue!

Danni: I’m expecting some real cool-looking animation from this fight, some flashbacks, and a whole lot of “SAAAAASUKEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!”

Joseph: I know what to expect from reading the manga but it’s been just long enough for me to not be totally sure I remember it correctly, so I’m excited! I do know how it shakes out, but that’s fine. This is going to be another good batch.

David: It feels like it’s happening sooner than I remember, but in a good way?

Kara: I’ll be shocked if Naruto bests Sasuke right away. There’s just too much going on here for it to be one and done. Plus, so much of his motivation has been about how he stacks up against Sasuke, I feel like beating him in this state would settle the score way too easily. I could be wrong, obviously. I’ve been wrong before.

Finally, what were your high points and low points for these episodes?

Paul: My high point is Gaara using his sand to gently cradle Lee and protect him from harm, which was a very satisfying reversal of what happened when last they met and also a welcome evolution of Gaara's character. My low point is the sheer incredulity I felt when I realized that Sakon and Ukon were slain by a glorified game of Pop-Up Pirate(TM). Talk about going out like a complete chump!

Kevin: High: The Sand Ninja assisting the Leaf. Why they’re there is a complete mystery, but I loved seeing them absolutely dominate the Sound Four/Five. Most people already know that the Naruto franchise pretty much drops its ninja credibility over time in favor of insane power scaling and everyone basically being a wizard, and we’re starting to see the power creep get to the point of changing the landscape. The kid in me loves the sheer wanton destruction, so I have fun with this kind of escalation. Low: Lee fighting. As a Lee fan, I love seeing him back in action flying all over the place with crazy Taijutsu. Narratively though, he’s what, a day out of major surgery? The simpler motivation of just wanting to climb stairs would’ve been a great story to progress over time. There are 100 episodes left, every 10 episodes just give a scene with Lee to show noticeable progress from the last time we’ve seen him.

Carolyn: I actually loved Kiba promising to protect his perfect doggie in the future. That’s my high point. Good boy doggo saving the day and good boy Kiba wanting to do right by his pupper. Low point, sadly, probably drunk Rock Lee. Just because I love him as he is and there is no reason for him to change and I completely agree that his struggle is more compelling than this goofy arc.

Danni: High point is easily Drunken Fist-style Rock Lee. It’s the dumbest plot contrivance used for the best purpose: turning Rock Lee into a drunk badass. It’s so transparent that it’s laudable, and the resulting fight just looked real good. Low point was the complete drag watching Kiba and Shikamaru fight was. I watched every episode hoping the Sand shinobi would just show up already.

Joseph: I, too, love drunk Lee, no matter how stupid it may be. That’s my high point along with the story about his restaurant destruction. For my low point, it would have to be Naruto basically gawking as Kimimaro musou-style thrashes his clones. Such a dull way to kill time and a little too on brand for our tactics-adverse ninja boy.

David: My high point is also drunk Lee, with the best part being when he ‘wakes up’ and realizes he was drunk because he has a headache and an injury he doesn’t recall having before. Low point is, also, the Naruto fight, simply for being the only downright boring segment this week.

Noelle: Gaara and Rock Lee teamup still makes me so hyped, even after all this time. Some things don’t let you down! The Naruto clone musou segment felt a little dull- I don’t recall feeling that when reading the manga, but I definitely felt it here.

Kara: High point was the Black Ant. Oh my God. Kankuro’s puppet skills have always been super creepy to me, but dang. It was quick, efficient, and absolutely horrifying. Low point was Akamaru’s aerial pee ballets. He’s a good boy and I love him but you’re gonna put someone’s eye out.

COUNTERS:

Nothing new this week!

Total so far:

Bowls of Ramen: 42 bowls, 3 cups

“I'm Gonna be Hokage!”: 52

Shadow Clones Created: 352

And that's everything for this week! Remember that you're always welcome to join us for this rewatch, especially if you haven't watched the original Naruto! Watch Naruto today!

CATCH UP ON THE REWATCH!

Episodes 113-119: Operation Rescue Sasuke

Episodes 106-112: Sasuke Goes Rogue

Episodes 99-105: Trouble in the Land of Tea

Episodes 92-98: Clash of the Sannin

Episodes 85-91: A Life-Changing Decision

Episodes 78-84: The Fall of a Legend

Episodes 71-77: Sands of Sorrow

Episodes 64-70: Crashing the Chunin Exam

Episodes 57-63: Family Feud

Episodes 50-56: Rock Lee Rally

Episodes 43-49: The Gate

Episodes 36-42: Through the Woods

Episodes 29-35: Sakura Unleashed

Episodes 22-28: Chunin Exams Kickoff

Episodes 15-21: Leaving the Land of Waves

Episodes 8-14: Beginners' Battle

Episodes 1-7: I'm Gonna Be the Hokage!

Here's our upcoming schedule:

- May 24th, NICOLE MEJIAS plays referee for Naruto vs. Sasuke, Round 2!

- May 31st, NOELLE OGAWA will start us off on a journey back into the land of filler.

- June 7th, DAVID LYNN keeps us going as we get even deeper into filler.

Thank you for joining us for the Great Crunchyroll Naruto Rewatch! Have a great weekend, and we'll see you all next time!

Have anything to say about our thoughts on Episodes 120-126? Let us know in the comments! Don't forget, we're also accepting questions and comments for next week, so don't be shy and feel free to ask away!

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Jared Clemons is a writer and podcaster for Seasonal Anime Checkup. He can be found on Twitter @ragbag.

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