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rootsofdread · 1 year

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May I request general hc for Ghostface, Michael Myers and the Trickster falling in love with a survivor (preferably one that doesn't seem to reciprocate their feelings)?

Danny Johnson / The Ghostface:

Danny is not very forward with his feelings, not at first. He spends a lot of time watching you in and out of trials, learning everything that he can about you. He knows he won’t be able to win you over unless he knows how your brain works, what you like and don’t like, who your friends are. It’s not stalking as long as you don’t know he’s there.

He uses his information to try to get to know you in a more normal way next. He thinks you’ll be amazed by his “people reading” skills, and thinks you’ll be more inclined to share more with him, feel more comfortable. He’s shocked to find you still seemingly uninterested in him.

He always slips in compliments when the two of you happen to talk along with his skillfully-gained information. You’re stunning, you’re so smart, you’re great in chases. Anything he thinks will earn him your favor, but it’s all true, of course. Danny is many things, but a liar isn’t one of them.

His next course of action is trying to impress you with his more practical skills in trials. He always makes sure you’re watching when he marks and skillfully downs someone, looking over his shoulder at you before taking them to a hook. He’s a lot more productive during trials when you’re around.

He enjoys seeing your reaction when he sneaks up on your teammates in front of you, the shock of realizing you didn’t even know he was there until it was too late. He knows that’s a surefire way to impress you, if all else fails. His Night Shroud works wonders.

Michael Myers / The Shape:

Michael never thought he would even love someone. Honestly, he just didn’t think he’d have it in him. So you can imagine his frustration when he falls for someone who doesn’t seem to share his feelings, who ignores all of his advances, which get increasingly aggressive. If he makes sure you know how he feels, maybe then you'll return his feelings.

You may think your apparent disinterest in him would end up discouraging him…But if you know Michael, you know it doesn’t. His drive to kill Laurie has kept him going for years. A lot of years. He’ll get you, too, eventually. He knows he will.

If he knows he has you in a trial, you’re his first target. He stalks you first, following you around, watching you behind corners or from higher places. He can never tell if you purposefully hold still out in the open, though.

He picks off the rest of your team one by one to get to you easier. He leaves their bodies where you can see them and waits for you to come to him. It's…His very twisted way of showing you his affection. He always hopes you like it, and has a little hope that you’re impressed by it.

He always lets you escape, either through the hatch or forcing you to go through the gates if he’s feeling “playful.” The latter may seem a little cruel, but it’s just his way of having a little fun with you. He doesn’t have a very well-adjusted sense of fun. But he knows you’re glad to at least be left alive, and that’s really all that matters.

Ji-Woon Hak / The Trickster:

Ji-Woon is the most romantically-inclined, and actually tries to win your favor in less frightening ways. That’s not to say he isn’t without his…Issues, but he is a romantic at heart and enjoys trying to woo you, even if it usually ends up being fruitless. He’s convinced that his good looks and charm will do most of his work for him.

He’s always following you around, trying to chat you up, mostly by bragging about his accomplishments both before and during his time in the fog. It impresses everyone else and makes them swoon, so he figures it’ll do the same to you. Your disinterest in his achievements doesn’t seem to bother him much. He’ll also tail you without your knowledge occasionally, to find things out about you, like things you like to do or talk about.

In addition to this, he’s always bringing you gifts, too. Typically items he’s looted off of dead survivors, because he knows even if you’re not interested in him, you’ll be interested in items you can actually use. He can get a little smug about it. He does also enjoy bringing you flowers, he knows it’s less creepy and you may be a bit more inclined to like them for that reason.

If you’re in a trial together, you’ll find little love notes pinned to trees or walls with his throwing knives. The tone of these notes may be a little off-putting or ominous, but Ji-Woon insists that that’s just how he writes. And if you’ve heard his music, you know that’s not a lie. He just expresses himself and his affections in strange ways.

He’ll also avoid going after you in trials, like a gentleman. He’ll let you work on generators and unhook your teammates so long as there are others still alive that he can go after. He prefers to not kill you, but he seems to have a lot of fun chasing you down and hauling you to a hook just to tell you he loves you.

#inbox #danny johnson #michael myers #ji woon hak #gender neutral reader #dbd imagines #dbd x reader #dbd x you #danny johnson x reader #ghostface x reader #michael myers x reader #the shape x reader #ji woon hak x reader #the trickster x reader

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arbiterlexultionis · 9 months

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Danny and the Spooks Pt2

This is a continuation of my other post Here

More specifically, this is where I’m dumping my ideas for it that involve crossovers, mostly with DC, as I know that stuff isn’t some peoples cuppa tea, and wanted to make sure it could be viewed and enjoyed by all.

So, I’ve come up with two ways for Danny and the spooks to mix with other fandoms. 1) Danny’s a known entity and (somewhat) trusted ally who is super protective/secretive about the tiny ass town he micromanages and 2) Danny and the ghost issues of Amity are more less unknowns and the hero’s of the verse show up only to be met with a (somewhat) functional crime fighting organization.

I’ll do the first version in this post and the second probably in a different post.

Phantom was one of the founding members of the league, and one of the most mysterious members at that. Although most of them had known about each other and occasionally worked together long before they came together officially 3 years ago to fend of Darkseid and found the league Phatom himself had come out of left field so to speak. Appearing with no warning in his bulky Hazmat suit and barely saying a word for most of the crisis, they didn’t really have any choice but to accept his help regardless of their (Batman’s) skepticism, and that decision to trust him payed out in the end as Phantom, despite being a complete unknown that could stay under the radar at that point, was apparently strong enough to give Supes and Wonder Woman a run for their money. They threw around a lot of theories about the guy, Superman seemed convince he was some type of alien while others thought he was a meta. Batman’s theory of choice was that he was a time traveler form the future with advanced nano technology, using cave paintings and historical records from across the globe that duplicated him as evidence. Aquaman and Dr. Fate think he’s some type of lord of order or God, with a capital G, because there was apparently some strikingly similar being who fought a Chaos deity to try and stop Atlantis from sinking.

But every attempt to actually investigate has ended “inconclusively”, as after Batman finally tracked down which town Phantom watched over he only got a few steps in before he got gently grabbed buy the cape and flew several states away like a misbehaving kitten getting grabbed by the scruff. Flash got the farthest in of anyone, sprinting in and getting about a block in before just appearing in Canada with sticky note attached to his forehead reading “Please stop stalking my grandson. :-) -CW.”

So when they were all in a meeting discussing where to keep the young justice team they were all surprised, to say the least, when Phantom offered to take them in and look after them Inside of Amity. Apparently(supposedly) the main reason he keeps everyone so far away from his town is because no one in the league has the experience and skill set necessary to properly combat his rouges, and gaining the experience and skill would probably include several mind control/body snatching/cloning/imposters/potential world endangering events and that just wouldn’t be worth the risk, especially with all of that resulting in their own rouges getting into contact with his, a recipe for one shitty weekend as he put it. But a little less than a week ago Luther used an intermediary to hire one of phantoms rouges to hunt Superman, which explains the bandage on Superman’s side. So now that the cats out of the bag Phantom want to make the kitty purr and prepare the rest of the heroics community for “the complete and utter nonsensical shenanaganery that he’s stuck dealing with” and The Team seems like a good opportunity for it.

I envision this whole meeting probably being told from Flash’s point of view, as he’s smart and goofy enough for some good humor and exposition but I guess it works for anyone. The Young Justice team wind up in mount justice while the main base of the Spooks, called the Grave or something else suitably on brand, is prepared just long enough to get bored and go rescue Superboy. Then the whole team and some of the justice league step foot into Amity for the first time, and then get a whole PowerPoint presentation explaining the town and its BS and are just Shook when they find out that Phantoms not some meta or alien or time traveling genius inventor but just some dead dude.

The team essentially gets fast tracked through the training for Spooks to make sure there up to snuff and begin patrolling and stuff. At first Superboy just can’t handle working in the R.I.P.D. and then he finds a ghost who whole shtick is “I need to punch shit”, which bridges the gap between the fighting he knows and the negotiations he doesn’t and helps him learn more about diplomacy and chill out, can’t decided if I want the ghost in question to be a boxer, sumo wrestler or really over the top westler.

As practice living a double life and going under cover they all have to get jobs and be Normal, but they all suck at being Normal. It just straight up doesn’t cross Superboy mind that normal people can’t use motorcycles to beat up convenience store robbers. At first he goes for the car, stops and goes wait a second that’s not something normal people can do and I’m Normal, so he picks up a Harley like “Yep, this is completely average amount of strength.”

Wally’s working in the kitchen of a restaurant and keeps accidentally using his super speed. Not enough to glow or spark, but more than enough for people to freak out. But he’s doing the work of 4 people which means management need 3 less people to pay so they just let him do his thing.

Robins such a gremlin that people think he’s straight up a child ghost very poorly disguising himself as a human child, using rafters and vents as short cuts with the justification “it’s not weird if they don’t see me do it” which makes it seem like he’s using invisibility, intangibility and teleportation to get around. He’s so quite when he walks that people come to the conclusion that he’s forgetting to walk and just floating places and/or trying to look like he’s walking like a Perfectly Normal Human Child but not actually making contact with the ground on accident.

All the locals see all this stuff and just go “Kids are kids, ghost, human or ecto-contaminated to hell and back.” And all make a group effort to hide them from the Fentons and GIW. The team, which is actively trying to investigate both groups, becomes convinced that the people they work for are in cahoots with the GIW and hiding their activities, but every time they switch jobs it takes like, a week for the GIW to get to them again(for them to go “oh poor children” and try and keep them safe).

It doesn’t help that the first friend they made in town is a scrawny little black haired blue eyed twink that they saw beat a mothafucka with another mothafucka in an alleyway on the first day of class, constantly pulls off what should be nearly impossible acts and disappears without a trace, further twisting their idea of what is within normal human limits. (They saw Danny fighting Skulker in human form at 3am in the Nasty burger parking lot because he was to lazy to shift forms, and they use the fact that the kid that can nonchalantly throw hands with a nine foot tall T9000 knock off as an excuse to get away with stuff. “Mr. I-fight-death-bots-with-my-bare-hands is the weakling at the bottom of the food chain, so me being able to do this it Normal. Probably.”)

Just a few ideas I had for this, will probably post more later. Drink some water and chill, peace out.

#danny fenton #danny phantom #danny phantom au #dp au #fic prompt #story prompt #writing prompt #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp #dpxdc #dp crossover #full hazmat au

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episodeoftv · 4 months

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Round 1 of 6, Group 2 of 4

propaganda is under the cut (359 words) - may contain spoilers

summaries (pulled from imdb or wikis)

propaganda

Danny Phantom - 3.12/3.13 Phantom Planet

When Plasmius' new ghostbuster team outclasses Danny in the field, the boy decides to remove his powers and retire, unaware of an approaching massive asteroid threatening Earth.

1) *points at Phantom Planet* LOOK AT IT! Okay there is a whole ass Power Point presentation on tumblr about why PP sucks major ass, but I can't find it right now. So my sybopsis: Danny just. Decides to give up on his ghost powers. After 52 fucking episodes. He's out. Vlad won. Bye. Except oh no who would've guessed that was all part of Vlad's plan and Vlad reveals his powers to the whole world and takes ALL OF IT hostage (wow such cunning, much intelligence, very smart villain). And he wants money. Not like Maggie, whom he has been pining for for decades. Like I get that it's a children's show and that'd be a bit too fucked up but money? Really? So Vlad fails in making the anti-ghost-meteor intangible. Danny goes into the Ghost Zone POWERLESS and gets blasted by every ghost ever and I guess those people who think that he died to get his powers are right because HE GETS HIS POWERS BACK??? LIKE THAT??? Vlad's plan of using ghost powers on the anti-ghost-meteor didn't work, but using ghost powers on the entire world as the anti-ghost-meteor is about to crash into it does? I thought that meteor negated all ghost powers??? VALERIE GRAY WOULD NOT CHEER AT THE REVEAL THAT DANNY PHANTOM IS DANNY FENTON. SHE WOULD BE INCREDIBLY ANGRY AND CONFLICTED, PROBABLY PUNCH HIM AND THEN LATER APOLOGIZE WHEN SHE ACTUALLY HAD SOME TIME TO STOMACH THAT REVELATION. HOW *DARE* YOU RUIN THAT REVEAL FOR US?! Also what happened to Dani? Tucker becoming mayor is stupid but considering this entire episode, it's also super funny. I let him have that win lol.

2) So bad the fandom disowned it, AO3 fics regularly tag "Phantom Planet didn't happen"

Roseanne - 9.23/9.24 Into That Good Night

The Conners welcome baby Harris Conner-Healy home. Roseanne is delighted Darlene wants to live at home and work on her parenting skills. The family talks about their lives after winning the lottery and are glad they have all come out of it stronger people. Over a pizza dinner, Roseanne suggests they say grace to thank God that Harris survived and the family is together again.

Family and friends gather at the Conner house to celebrate baby Harris' Homecoming and everyone takes a turn chatting with the new addition to the family. Mark and Becky have some exciting news, as do Leon and his husband Scott. During dinner, Roseanne takes time to reflect on each member of her family and reveals she has been writing a book; everything we see is Roseanne's altered version of actual events. Roseanne reveals the true story and admits she changed whatever details she didn't like about her life and the people in it. In truth, the Conners never won the lottery; it was all a fantasy Roseanne created in order to cope with a devastating reality. In the final moments, Roseanne sits alone in her basement writing room. She goes upstairs, passing through the old kitchen and the old living room. Roseanne sits on the old couch with the classic afghan on the back and silently takes in the warmth and comfort of the family home as the lights slowly fade.

Just focusing on the (at the time) series finale and not all the terrible things Roseanne decided to say and be later. This finale sucked. It was built to retcon the entire (admittedly bad) season that came before it as a bizarre fantasy of the titular character after her Husband died. They quickly and randomly undid different characters' development and swapped around couples just because.

#danny phantom #roseanne #wfround1 #wfpoll #wfr1g2 #polls #poll

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halfagone · 1 year

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So this is actually a DP x Miraculous prompt. It’d be a short one shot about Danny being mistaken as an akuma and having to fight off a both Ladybug and Chat Noir, with him somehow being able to defeat them while sleep deprived. What do you think?

Now this might have a lot of spelling mistakes, because I'm doing this on my phone, but here we go:

Danny was exhausted. There was no avoiding that fact. His parents had thought it would be a great idea to take a vacation to Paris for some 'family bonding' before Jazz went off to college. Privately, Danny was just waiting for the moment their parents would just inevitably run off and chase after some French ghost. He felt bad for thinking that, but he was just- ugh. He was just tired.

His parents had been serious about the family bonding. They were spending a week in the 'city of love' and his parents seemed set on using every single minute to their advantage. That meant going to one tourist attraction to another, and Danny would have thought he'd be able to keep up with it all, seeing all the ghost attacks he had to handle at any time of day or night. But that sadly wasn't the case.

Danny already hadn't inherited his parents' smarts, but apparently, he hadn't inherited their boundless energy either.

It didn't help that his ghost sense went off without warning. Did it ever go off with warning? Technically, the ghost sense itaelf was a warning, so did that- Ugh, Danny was getting distracted again. He should really go to bed soon.

But first, he needed to take care of the ghost. He transformed into Phantom, but tried to alter the most notable aspects of his features so that people wouldn't realize Phantom had come all the way to Paris for some reason. Hopefully his parents wouldn't connect the dots either. That was what he was worried about most.

He tried to follow after the ectoplasmic energy floating around, but no luck. He swore every alleyway looked exactly the same. Unless he waa going around in circles?

...He was going around in circles, wasn't he?

Danny sighed and shot up towards the sky, trying to get a better view of his prey. Where could the ghost have gone? He wished he could have gotten a good look at it...

He heard shouts behind him, and it took him a moment to realize it was French. His French skills weren't nearly as good as Sam's, but he was a hella lot better than his parents, so he often found himself trying to communicate with strangers for directions. But nine if that helped him now when his brain was in a permanent state of buffering.

He turned around to face them, squinting his blurry eyes as a... yo-yo? Flew right by his face. He dodged the flying projectile, and watched as it wrapped around a fireplace chimney. A stranger clad in red and black soon followed, kick aimed right for his chest that he easily batted away. He felt bad when the stranger yelped in alarm, but hey- If you don't want to fall, don't throw yourselfs at strangers? Danny had flight or fight too, and he was already in mid-air, so... Fight it was.

But fighting took so much energy. Danny sighed as a second black-clad figure called after the first, swiping at Danny with a silver staff. That was cool. Danny wondered where they'd gotten it.

Nonetheless, Danny swatted it away too, and pushed the black-clad figure back onto the roof. Where it was safe. Seriously, were they that into parkour? Why wete they attacking Danny this intensely anyways?

Danny shook his head. Whatever. He had a ghost to find.

---

Marinette was panicking. She had never seen an akuma like this before. Akumas usually had themes, wrapped up in the reason they'd been vulnerable to Hawkmoth in the first place. Or to go along with theor akumatized item. But there was no such thing for this akuma.

The only item she could spot was a thermos on their belt. Which was strange, but hardly the weirdest thing to be akumatized by. She had no idea what had happened to this victim either, they acted so... wildly? No, that wasn't right. They just had no path or direction.

She was surprised Hawkmoth hadn't tried to contact this akuma once yet. They handled her and Chat Noir with ease, swiping them away as if they were gnats. Marinette didn't even know what their gimmick was yet! But she grew more and more worried over what it could be. They clearly knew had to fight, to some degree. Was this going to be Darkblade or Anansi all over again? Chat Noir had always been the better fighter between the two of them, but even he had trouble with those...

She needed to de-evilize them before they caused any destruction.

She swung for the thermos, the only item she could think the akuma could be centered on, only for the akuma to swipe up suddenly and deflect her yo-yo. Chat Noir noticed her intentions, and tried to distract the akuma. But that did little good, because the akuma just flung Chat Noir over his shoulder and carried on. Marinette tried for the thermos once while they were distracted only for the akuma to wrap her string up around their arm and throw her through the air. She tumbled to a roll and laid there astounded for a few moments, watching as Chat Noir tried to aim a few strikes at the akuma. And the akuma either blocked it with a forearm or just... took the hit.

Marinette had never seen anything like it. Had Hawkmoth become more creative recently? If thos akuma had been at all interested in their Miraculous, they would have been totally defeated. Without trouble. They were just playthings to them.

Marinette was about to call for her Lucky Charm, when she saw the akuma pick Chat Noir up clean off his feet and then just... settle him back down out of the way?

"Huh?" She made a noise of confusion, both herself and Chat Noir watching from the sidelines as the akuma hovered over the ground towards... wherever he wanted to go.

This was one weird akuma.

---

Danny was tired. He had yet to find the ghost, and now he had no idea where his family were! This was so not his day.

And there were these two teengers in unusual clothing trying to steal his thermos? He knew Paris had thieves, but of all the things they had to aim for, it was the thing he couldn't afford to lose? So not his day.

Danny sighed as he stopped at the Eiffel Tower, looking around for his family. He'd left them around here, where could they have gone?

One of the teenagers that had been badgering him apprehensively approached him now. It was the one with cat ears.

He arched a brow at him. "What?"

The cat-ear wearing stranger blinked. "Oh, you're American." Strange, for a Frenchman he spoke with an English accent. "Uh, what are you doing? Why did you get akumatized?"

Danny frowned. "Akuma-what now?"

#halfagone replies #dp x mlb #i like the idea that at some point #they decide hey why not ask #and it turns out it actually works in their favor #or at least answers some questions #lol

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scientia-rex · 2 years

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When I first watched Sports Night when it originally aired I was 14, and I thought these grown-up characters were glamorous beyond all reckoning, in a way I could never be. I marveled at Danny's romantic streak. I wanted Casey's professional success. Even Dana's utter insanity struck me as aspirational. I wanted to move to New York. I wanted to live in a vibrant, bustling city, full of high concentrations of highly skilled and dedicated people.

Now I'm older than most of the characters were at the time. I mean, Jesus Christ, I'm 38. Casey and Dana were probably 33 when the show started. Danny was probably 28. I look at them now and I think, God, look at how this world warped them. Look at how it taught Danny that stalking was love, that only a woman who didn't want him was worth loving. Look at Casey, divorced and bitter, not really understanding how his behavior led to the demise of that relationship, that no divorce is ever 100% the evil ex-wife, that the evil ex-wife is still human. Look at Dana chasing men who don't understand that she is, actually, both human and their equal if not their better.

That was our world, in 1998. Women were crazy. Women were to blame. If he was mean to you, it meant he liked you. You had no right to ever expect, let alone demand, to be treated like an equal. You weren't one.

I still wish I'd lived somewhere more exciting once in my life. I've stayed within a fairly small radius of the town where I was born, and I've come home, twenty years after I left it. I did live in a city for ten years, a major population center, and I'm glad I lived there and I'm glad I left.

But I look at those characters now in a completely different way than I did when I first met them. They've been part of my life, intermittently, for a very long time. They shaped parts of how I thought about career and romance and sex, and there are lots of reasons why I wish they hadn't, but at the same time, where there's humor and love in that series, it's blinding.

I'm glad people who are 14 now are growing up in a different world. I wish it was less on fire and that there wasn't a plague! I really do fucking wish that! But I'm glad girls now look back at the way everyone treated women back then and they think it's bullshit, because it was, and we were so busy trying to get men to give us any rights or respect that we mostly didn't even notice the toxic sludge of misogyny we had to wade through on a daily basis. And the we here is fairly specific--girls like me--but there were a lot of us.

I'm glad I made it to 38. When I was 14, I didn't think I would. I thought I'd die. Sometimes I'd fantasize about what I hoped the future would look like. I wanted to move to Europe and write novels and be a penniless author. I wanted to sleep in every day. (I still do.) I thought I wasn't smart enough to be a doctor, so I didn't bother to hope or plan for it. I thought I wasn't worth anything at all.

I wish I'd loved myself. I wish media had showed me how to love myself.

I hope people keep writing and sharing better and better stories. I hope our myths and our narratives serve our needs and purposes better.

#sports night

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angel-dust-addict · 2 years

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//So this is a fairly common headcanon, but I've got a bit of an unusual influence for it. Angel is actually very smart. He plays the vapid himbo quite well, but that's because it's what people expect from someone like him. But he's smart enough to write his own music and to read people pretty well, even if he tends to use that particular skill to piss people off. But point is, he's not stupid.

Obviously we don't have much in the way of backstory for any of these characters. We know Angel was born into an Italian-American mafia family in NYC. We know he died of a drug overdose in 1947. We know he's gay. That's right about all we know. And those are the facts I've built my backstory for him on. By knowing the history of New York and especially the queer history of Brooklyn. But he figured out how to survive. Alone. During the Depression. He lost everything and still scratched and clawed his way to some semblance of a life.

A big influence for my version of Angel Dust, though, is the character Danny Holt from the miniseries London Spy. I've yammered ad nauseum about Cypher the last couple of days. That's who Cypher is. He's an AU version of Danny Holt. I've been RPing Danny for five years now. And while he, too, has very little in terms of solid backstory, he's got enough of one. And Danny is the primary reason I picked up Angel. The first thing I saw from this fandom - Hazbin or Helluva - was the Addict music video. So that was my first knowledge of Angel. And immediately, I could see parallels between them. That was what really made me want to dig into Angel as a character. He struck me as being very much a demonic Danny.

And Danny is not stupid. Very far from it. He thinks he's not very smart, but that's in large part because of his circumstances. One of the defining facts of his life has been that he's gay. (Which is where much of my Danny's backstory veers into educated guessing.) It really impacted the entire direction of his life and what opportunities he had. And due to extenuating circumstances originating with that fact, he got dragged into drug addiction and human trafficking very young and never actually finished high school. So he thinks he's stupid. And yet, he spent years outrunning and outfoxing virtually every intelligence agency on the planet. Yes, they killed him in the end. But that was using a virus, not a fair kill. And it still took them years.

Angel's a little different. He's a mobster. He was born into the life of intrigue and shadows that Danny was dragged into in some of the worst ways possible. But even with that earlier start, he was still confronted with a lot of obstacles. And like Danny, he managed to survive them. For a time. Angel survived his circumstances for much longer than Danny did, but Angel didn't have AIDS. And yes, Angel died due to his drug addiction, an obstacle Danny managed to overcome. But Danny had a mentor who pulled him out of a life of drugs and prostitution. Angel never had anyone to do that for him. And he survived that life much longer than Danny did, even if he was significantly older when he was dragged into it.

So Danny has impacted how I play Angel - and that I play Angel - but Angel has in turn impacted how I play Cypher. Cypher specifically, as a demon. So it's not surprising that Cypher, especially, has drifted some, given that mild muse feedback loop, spiral thing. But it's still, I think, very much in keeping with the canon for both of them to be played as I play them, they just... influence each other substantially.

#inner demons || headcanons #the addict || angel #lie to me || cypher (danny)#other voices || mun's other blogs #[[I have had 90% of this in my drafts for two days...]]

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jesse-eisenberg-interview · 13 years

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Interview: Oscar Nominee Jesse Eisenberg, Aziz Ansari Keep Comedy Real in ‘30 Minutes or Less’

CHICAGO – Following our low-grade review of the new Jesse Eisenberg and Aziz Ansari comedy “30 Minutes or less,” what we find most interesting is why these talented stars think it’s much funnier than it actually is.

HollywoodChicago.com recently discussed the keep-it-real film with “The Social Network” Oscar nominee Jesse Eisenberg and “Parks and Recreation” star Aziz Ansari. But overall, they struggled to sell a middle-of-the-road gag reel as the top-notch comedy they’d like it to be.

HollywoodChicago.com: The humor in “30 Minutes or Less” comes from keeping it real and being clueless. Like when Jesse Eisenberg’s character has a bomb strapped to his chest and he has no idea what to do. So, of course, he turns to Wikipedia.

Aziz Ansari: Yes, we had the same thought when we shot the film. This is so real and these are exactly the things we’d do if we were actually stuck in that situation.

HollywoodChicago.com: Coming from “The Social Network” where you played a very confident and intelligent guy, this time you’re the nervous and afraid everyman representing everyone because most of us would react that way.

Jesse Eisenberg: I thought that was a great take on this premise because it’s dealt with entirely realistically. And then as the guys get into it and embrace these personas, it becomes a fantasy for them. Even though they look ridiculous, they picture themselves as slick bank robbers. But of course it doesn’t actually look like that because they have no skill.

HollywoodChicago.com: It seemed like you two (Eisenberg and Ansari) mostly paired off together and then Danny McBride and Nick Swardson were another duo separate from you two.

Ansari: Yes. That was fun for us when we finally watched the movie because Danny and Nick had no clue what we did with our material and we didn’t know what they did with theirs.

HollywoodChicago.com: In this film, I see your straight-faced, monotone and deadpan humor like we saw from you in “Flight of the Concords”. It’s like naïve comedy. You’re funny and it looks like you’re not even trying to be.

Ansari: It’s about playing it real. It’s trying to do what’s natural instead of forced jokes. That’s the style for me and that’s a lot of the smart comedy out these days. That’s what we do with “Parks and Recreation” now and that’s why it ends up being funny.

HollywoodChicago.com: How much were you allowed to go off script?

Eisenberg: (Director) Ruben (Fleischer) really encourages his actors to improvise. The script was wonderful, the characters were well drawn and the jokes were very specific. There was nothing vague or general about the comedy in the script. There was a specific voice and tone. But the way Ruben likes to work is if you have an idea, try it and some wonderful things can come out of it. There was nothing lacking in the material we had.

HollywoodChicago.com: Was there a particular scene that just happened but wasn’t written?

Eisenberg: Yeah. Do you mind, Aziz, if I take this one? This is in the trailer. We made up a song where he’s spray painting. It’s absurd and hysterical. That came from him coming up with a funny idea. In a script, that would probably look confusing.

Ansari: When you’re shooting a scene and after you’ve done it a couple times, there are so many little things coming from moments that just happened on set. Especially with the bank robbery. Ruben and the producers and editors did a great job filtering and picking the best stuff to use.

HollywoodChicago.com: Speaking of your bank robbery, we’ve seen countless bank robberies in film. In the bank robbery that opens “The Dark Knight,” for example, The Joker uses pure fear. But your bank robbery scene makes it funny instead of serious and stressful.

Ansari: That’s exactly why it’s funny. We’re not really bank robbers. We’re not a crew like the guys in “Heat”. We’re a pizza delivery guy and a teacher. We’ve just seen movies and we’re trying to do what we think is the right way to rob a bank. We know nothing. Then all these things go wrong.

That’s what makes that scene so good. When I first read this script, I thought that was the best scene. Ruben lived up to the promise of this script with that scene. If I had to really rob one, I’d think: ‘Well, I guess there’s a silent alarm and we’ve got to account for that.’ You just know things you see in films.

Eisenberg: Something we didn’t plan for is that there’d be so many interpersonal interactions they’d have to account for. They ended up apologizing for what they’re doing and dealing with the nuisances of interacting with other people. We were so ill-prepared. They didn’t initially plan for that. Who considers the hostages when you’re robbing a bank?

HollywoodChicago.com: Was part of your attraction to “30 Minutes or Less” working with Ruben again since “Zombieland”? There, Ruben did a great job of mixing action with comedy…

Eisenberg: Yes, and not only action with comedy but also dealing with real characters dealing with their own real lives. Even though the scope of the movie is very big, broad and funny, the characters still seemed credible. That’s rare in a movie that’s so heavily plotted like this one. Characters are usually just pawns and they’re inconsistent. They have voice changes from scene to scene depending on what the plot needs from them. But this didn’t have that at all.

HollywoodChicago.com: But like most movies do, everything’s still taken to the extreme – like the flame thrower with Nick Swardson’s character.

Eisenberg: Nick’s character is so desperately eager to please Danny McBride’s character. So, he goes so overboard.

HollywoodChicago.com: You two have an interesting, underlying struggle. You’re best friends, then you hate each other, you (Eisenberg) slept with his (Ansari) sister and now you’re (Ansari) willing to bail on your friend at any moment…

Ansari: There are tiffs in any friendship. But deep down, there’s a lot of history and you’ll be loyal. Their friendship was put in a strange place when he slept with my twin sister. He was going to see it through because that was his best friend for however long. We never established how long.

HollywoodChicago.com: The bomb strapped to your chest was a metaphor not only for actually getting blown up but also restarting your lame life. We have two guys who aren’t going anywhere…

Eisenberg: Exactly. It takes the worst day of his life to right everything, profess his love to a girl, quit his awful job with a terrible boss and reconcile with his best friend. The writers Michael Diliberti and Matthew Sullivan say these characters need this movie more than anyone else. They need this thing to happen to them more than someone else would.

HollywoodChicago.com: I see resolutions for your character (Eisenberg), but the villains? Danny McBride’s character is one of those you kind of don’t like, kind of do and kind of feel sorry for…

Eisenberg: The role was written for Danny. Danny has this very unique personal quality of saying the worst and most offensive stuff and still coming across as sweet. Nick has it as well. Danny’s character is more abrasive and evil.

Ansari: Danny’s character is someone who’s getting beat up by his dad. His dad is constantly prodding him. Even though he’s the bad guy, by the end you do sympathize with him.

HollywoodChicago.com: When it gets to be the end of the year and we look back at the best of the best in film, among other things we think about what was most memorable. What do you think people will think stands out most about “30 Minutes or Less”?

Eisenberg: For me, it’s special because the characters are credible people. I don’t see a lot of movies, so I can’t make many comparisons. But it seems to me that many comedies don’t feature genuine characters.

HollywoodChicago.com: Wait, you don’t see a lot of movies, movie star Jesse Eisenberg?

Eisenberg: No.

HollywoodChicago.com: Even though yours takes things to the extreme, I can see this kind of bank heist really happening.

Eisenberg: I hope it doesn’t.

HollywoodChicago.com: What about this film do you think will be memorable, Aziz?

Ansari: I think what works about the movie is that the four main guys have great chemistry. It feels fresh because you haven’t seen us in a big comedy before with these pairings. The script is unique and the bank robbery is very memorable.

HollywoodChicago.com: Chicago’s supposed to have such great pizza, but no one here’s so dedicated that we’ll get it free if not delivered in 30 minutes or less.

Eisenberg: The delivery service in the movie is supposed to be great. Not necessarily the pizza.“30 Minutes or Less” stars Jesse “I’m Very Embarrassed About This One as Compared to My Last Fincher Hit” Eisenberg, Aziz “Dude, Please Pay to See My Film Because I Gotta Make Some Bank” Ansari, Danny “Eh” McBride, Nick “I’m Smart Enough to Play Stupid” Swardson, Fred “You Might Actually Know Who I Am” Ward, Michael “Damnit! I Hate Getting a Pen Stuck in My Face” Peña and a gaggle of other people you’ve never heard of.

These mysterious supporting peeps who feel lucky to have gotten cast include Dilshad Vadsaria, Bianca Kajlich, Sam Johnston, Jack Foley, Elizabeth Wright Shapiro, Brett Gelman, Paul Tierney, Staci Lynn Fletcher and Gary Brichetto from sometimes actually revered director Ruben Fleischer and perhaps-you-shouldn’t-write writers Michael Diliberti and Matthew Sullivan.

The film opened on Aug. 12, 2011 and, thankfully, only clocks in a short running time of 83 minutes so we can quickly go about our lives after we wither away from watching it. “30 Minutes or Less” is rated “R” for crude and sexual content, pervasive language, nudity and some violence, but all that seemingly scandalous stuff still poops out a stillborn flop.

source

#2011 #30 minutes or less #jesse eisenberg

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redrobin-detective · 3 years

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I have never watched DP and everything I know about it is what I saw on Tumblr but... are you telling me... that you have ANOTHER fandom where the villain wants to adopt the MC?

Oh hun, let me tell you about how absolutely delicious and messed up the relationship between Danny Fenton and Vlad Masters is. It’s a veritable mine of content, a fic writer could get lost in that sweet, sweet sauce.

Long story short is Vlad is also part human, part ghost from a lab accident also caused by Danny’s parents 20 years ago when they were in college. He used his powers for selfish gain, lying and cheating his way to billions of dollars. But he was still bitter, still alone, falling victim to the ghostly nature of his powers and becoming obsessive. He was in love with Danny’s mom, Maddie and is convinced he had a chance with her if only his accident hadn’t happened. He blames Danny’s dad, Jack and swears to kill him.

He puts his plan into motion for their 20 year college reunion, to kill Jack and woo Maddie and finally stop feeling so alone. Only he finds out that the Fenton’s youngest son, a shy boy he’d written off, is also a half ghost hybrid. And just like that Vlad isn’t totally alone in the world.

But does Vlad approach Danny like a normal person? Offer his understanding, help with his powers and generally act like someone with half a conscious? hell no. Instead he beats the child halfway to Sunday, demands that Danny forsake his home and family and become Vlad’s apprentice all the while actively trying to kill his Dad. Danny, predictably, says no dice.

And it spirals out of control from there. Vlad’s obsession with Maddie slowly shifts until he’s become obsessed with Danny. He says he wants love, he says he wants a family but he’s trying to get at it by scaring the child, by threatening him, by trying to get rid of every other place for Danny to turn so he has no where else to go but into Vlad’s welcoming arms. He wants a son but he has no idea how to be a decent person much less a father. At one point, he goes full blown nutso and tries to clone Danny to create “the perfect half ghost son”, it blows up in his face (literally) but it goes to show the lengths he’d go to.

Danny, meanwhile, is rightfully angry and upset about the whole situation. He’s scared to death of these ghost powers and he meets someone who finally understands and all he does is manipulate and hurt Danny. It really takes a blow to Danny’s trust in adults, Vlad instantly tries to control him once he learns about Danny’s powers so how can Danny trust anyone? He wants some guidance, he wants security and all he keeps getting is pain. He lashes out just as hard back as Vlad, mocking his loneliness and flaunting the loved ones he has in his life. He spits and curses the man as Fenton and tries to punch his smarmy face in as Phantom.

They’re two members of the world’s smallest species and they can’t stand each other. But it’s not as simple as that. Vlad has been isolated from people for 20 years, he’s conniving and manipulative as a human but his ghost powers make him 10x worse and his moral compass is perpetually broken. He does love, in his own twisted way, but things he had to force and painfully grip that love not realizing he’s driving people off. Danny is also just a kid and it’s not his job to help Vlad through his many, many issues. Vlad also exacerbates Danny’s paranoia and mistrust in general. I think some part of him still does look up to Vlad, hoping that one day he’ll turn around and become an actual mentor to Danny who really has no adult he can rely on. He’s willing to lend a hand to help his enemies but he always hesitates with Vlad, burned too many times. We see in a future AU that Vlad is capable of change and regret, Danny likewise is very compassionate and open but just can’t extend the same curtesy to Vlad.

Danny Phantom said “lets take this traumatized boy soldier with death powers who cant relate to anyone living and dead, give him an archenemy that 30 years older than him, more powerful in wealth and skills and smarts who is out to mentally break the child until he submits completely” and we fans just ate it up

#danny phantom #the relationship btw vlad and danny is so fascinating #its MESSED UP on a fundamental level #its so goddamn sad in its own way #but its interesting to see played out #S3 butchered Vlads character and made him out to be a stereotypical villain who wants to rule the world #not a laser focused manipulative asshole who just wants to own you #which is far far scarier #gentrychild #now that i think on it #there ARE a lot of parallels btw DFO and Vlad and Danny #dan obviously isnt his real son but the supposed love being felt? the manipulation? the lack of trsut on the child's part?? fab

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kinglazrus · 3 years

Text

Deep Wounds Ch. 1 - Who's to Blame?

Phic Phight | Next | AO3 | FFN

Submitted by @q-gorgeous: Identity reveal. Dash finds out Danny is Phantom. Could be swagger bishie or not, either or is okay.

Submitted by @aj-itated: Dash catches Danny changing after gym, and spots a huge (poorly stitched) wound on his side. Dash is now convinced Danny is either abused or part of a gang, and has no idea how to deal with either - or how to interact with Danny, now that he can't bully him.

Summary: Dash didn't mean to see it, not that it was his fault. If Danny didn't want anyone to notice the bloody mess on his side, then he shouldn't be checking his bandages in the middle of the boy's changing room. But it's too late, and Dash has no clue what to do now that he thinks Danny might be getting hurt at home.

Word count: 4253

“He’s gonna know.”

As Tucker's shadow falls over him, Danny starts, rudely yanked out of his daydream. The hand cradling his chin drops to his lap, fingers brushing the grass, and he fixes Tucker with a confused glare. "What?"

"You are super unsubtle," Tucker says. "He's gonna knooow."

Tucker and singsong aren’t two words Danny would normally use together, but it is the best way to describe the lyrical bounce in Tucker's voice as he drops onto the grass. Too bad his musical prowess seems limited to teasing jabs and not the screeching caterwaul Danny usually associates with Tucker and singing.

"What are you talking about?" Danny asks, his annoyance mounting.

"Oh, come on." Tucker leans back and sweeps his arm out to the field, motioning to the warm-up game some of their classmates are playing, which Danny had been watching fervently until he was interrupted. His gaze skims over the scuffle taking place over the ball, settles briefly on Dash lounging in front one of the nets, then goes back to Tucker.

"I don't know what you mean," Danny says.

"Tucker, be nice. Don't tease the oblivious," Sam cuts in. Sitting on Danny's left, she is flipping through a book rather than watches the scrimmage. How she got the book past Tetslaff, Danny has no idea. Magic, maybe. The more likely answer is that Tetsflaff saw it and just didn't care since Sam one of the best students in their class.

Danny could never get away with it, though. "Seriously. What are you guys talking about?"

"Oh, poor Danny." Tucker tsks and shakes his head. "In time, you, too, shall mature enough to understand your own emotions."

"I'm mature enough to ectoblast you in the face," Danny says.

"That is literally the exact opposite of mature."

"You're the exact opposite of mature."

"Game time!" Tetslaff's bellow cuts off what surely would have been a clever retort from Tucker. Her booming voice, powerful enough to challenge Danny's father's, echoes across the field and brings the scrimmage to a halt. At the far net, Dash rises to his feet and brushes the grass from his shorts.

"Captains!" Tetslaff calls. Valerie and Dash's hands shoot into the air, faster than anyone else's. Sam, still focused on her book, raises her hand half-heartedly, then lowers it to turn the page. No one else offers to be team captain, but Tetslaff doesn't seem to mind. This is how their classes usually go when they do team sports. "You know the drill. Pick your players, take your positions, and for heaven's sake, someone take Fenton."

Snickers break out through the class. Danny drops his face into his hands, muffling a groan against his palms.

He hates gym class for a lot of reasons. For one, sports aren't really his thing. He might be strong, thanks to his ghost half, but that doesn't make him any better at sports. Because of that, he's usually the last picked when it comes to games like soccer. And then there's Dash, who sucks sometimes, but he used to suck more. A lot more. He has mellowed out since freshman year, although he's not opposed to jostling Danny in the hallway now and then.

But the absolute worst thing about gym class is playing when he's injured; it doesn't happen often. Danny's been ghost fighting for nearly three years now, and he doesn't get hurt as much as he used to. Experience has wizened him up to the wonders of dodging. His enemies still get lucky sometimes, though, and last night, Technus got him good. Hacking and slashing isn't usually Technus' thing, but the rabid dishwasher the ghost sicked on Danny was damn good at it. He has the deep slash across his left side to show it.

It's healing well, but a wound like that needs more than a few hours before he is back in peak condition. Sam, whose house was closest after the fight, stitched Danny up as best as she could. Both she and Tucker had gotten good at that over the years, but for all Sam's skill, she was still just a high schooler who learned off YouTube tutorials. Before bed, Danny bound the wound tight, took a couple of Advil, and slept with an icepack slapped against his side.

It still hurts like hell, though.

A sharp whistle pierces Danny's thoughts. He winces at the noise, along with most of the class. Dash and Valerie, the victims of Tetslaff's ire, actually flinch.

"Baxter, Grey, stop bickering," Tetslaff says.

Caught up in his thoughts, Danny hadn't noticed their argument, but it's impossible to miss the tight anger in Valerie's crossed arms or the annoyance in Dash's glare.

"Baxter, Grey made her pick. Mr. Cheong goes with her." Tetslaff points at Kwan, then jerks her thumb toward Valerie. With a despondent sigh, Dash pats Kwan on the back, watching his best friend trudge to Valerie's team as if he was going to his grave.

"They're so dramatic," Danny says.

Tucker nods in agreement. "I know, right?"

Sam lowers her book to stare at them. "You cannot be serious."

"What did we say?" Danny asks.

Sam sighs and rolls her eyes but doesn't elaborate further.

Back on the field, Valerie gestures to the dwindling number of classmates yet to be claimed. "Your next pick," she says to Dash.

Dash scans the lineup, his gaze lingering on Danny for a few moments before skipping right over Tucker to Sam. "Manson, you're with me."

"Ugh, of course." Sam marks her page and passes the book to Danny. "You gonna be okay? How's your side?"

He holds back a grimace. "I'm good. I'll tell Tetslaff I'm sick or something so I can sit out."

Sam nods, satisfied, and joins Dash's team.

"Tucker!" Valerie calls.

"Good luck, dude." Tucker gently pats Danny's shoulder before stepping onto the field.

With his friends gone, and the rest of the class distracted by the team pick, Danny shuffles over to Tetslaff. "I don't really feel good. Can I sit out?"

Tetslaff looks him up and down. "You gonna throw up?"

"I don't know. Maybe?"

"You got a fever?" Before Danny can even answer, Tetslaff slaps her hand against his forehead. He flinches back, wanting nothing more than to peel her warm palm off his skin. She holds it there for a few seconds before finally drawing away. "No fever. got a doctor's note?"

"Uh... no? I've been at school all morning."

"If you feel like you're about to throw up, book it off the field. Otherwise, you're playing."

"But—"

"Fenton, do you really want to be the only kid in Casper High history to fail gym class?" Tetslaff asks.

The threat might have been more effective if Danny hadn't spent half his high school career one bad grade away from flunking out, but he doesn't have the energy to fight her on it. "Okay, Coach."

"That's the spirit! Now get out there and show me some hustle!" Tetslaff slaps Danny on the back. He bites back a cry of pain as he stumbles forward, one hand shooting to cradle his side. Tetslaff's hand, though broad, missed the actual injury, but the sheer impact made his bones rattle and his wound flair with pain.

"Okay," Danny mutters. Just stay out of Dash's way and move enough to escape Tetslaff ire. It can't be that hard. He presses a hand to his side, feeling the thick gauze through his shirt. Closing eyes so that no one sees them glow, he phases his palm through his shirt and ices over his injury. The numbing cold helps, somewhat, and it should hold up for the whole class.

"I can do this." He falters when he steps toward the field. It looks like Valerie and Dash finished picking their teams while he was busy with Tetslaff and the game is already underway. He hovers on the sideline, unsure where to go.

"Getting worked up already?" Valerie's voice startles him.

Danny flinches and twists toward her, sending a sharp twinge across his ribs. He hisses, regretting the sudden move, and squeezes his side once more.

"You okay?" Valerie asks.

"Just fine. Sorry, what did you say?"

"You look like you're stressed out already. It's just soccer."

Danny rolls his eyes and nudges her arm. "Sure. Tell me that when Dash's team is up by five and I have stop you from kicking his kneecaps in."

Valerie laughs, no denial falling from her lips. "Oh, please. We both know I'd go for the throat. You're with me, by the way."

"Oh, thank God."

"Don't kid yourself, Danny. We both know you'd love to be on Dash's team."

Danny's mind blanks for a moment, his cheeks growing hot against his will. "Uh... what? He literally used to beat me up every day."

"Keyword, 'used to.' And I never said you had good taste." Valerie shrugs. "Except for me, at least. But don't worry about it. Now come on; I want you on defence. You suck at scoring, but at least you can take a hit."

Danny hopes he doesn't need to.

—

No hits come his way, to Danny's immense relief. At least they are playing soccer and not football. Or floor hockey, God forbid. Danny's ankles still smart from the last time they played that. With soccer, there's not a whole lot of opportunity for Danny to get knocked around. Stuck on defence, he even has an excuse to hang back, hold off on all that "hustle" Tetslaff wanted to see. His teammates charge up and down the field, shouting and jeering as they fight over the ball, and Danny gets to trail behind, halfway between the throng and his team's net. He spends most of his time watching Dash. Purely so that he's ready if Dash decides to go after him, not for any other reasons.

"Suuure that's the reason," Tucker says when he notices Danny staring.

"It is!" Danny's protest falls on deaf ears.

Dash catches Danny's gaze more than once. Rather than looking away, Danny can't resist offering a shit-eating grin and a friendly wave every time. If he had any self-preservation skills, he would stop immediately. But there's a reason he's half-ghost now, and it's definitely not because of his critical thinking skills.

He manages to stay out of the action, for the most part, only rushing in when the ball comes close to him. Otherwise, Tucker and Elliot handle the rest. Tucker knowingly spares him the pain of ripping his stitches. Elliot, meanwhile, likes to swoop in at every opportunity to show Danny up. It might have gotten a rise out of Danny any other day, but right now, when his side throbs every time he takes a step, Elliot is welcome to do whatever he wants.

When they have class outside, Danny can't tell how much time is left. He guesses they are about halfway through, and nothing bad has happened yet. Maybe he can get through this, after all.

That's when he jinxes himself.

"Heads up!" Valerie's warning shout comes just in time. Danny ducks instinctively, hissing when his injury pulls. The soccer ball flies over his head, skimming the top of his hair. Then, Dash collides with Danny, his shoulder digging into Danny's side. He cries out as he goes sprawling, hands shooting to his side. It burns, searing across his ribs, almost as bad as when he first got the wound. The pain makes his head spin and his breath ragged.

He must blackout for a moment, because one second his face is pressed against the cool grass, and then suddenly he's staring up into Tetsalff's concerned face, Valerie, Sam, and Tucker hovering behind her.

"Deep breaths, Fenton," Tetslaff says.

It would be great advice if breathing didn't make his chest expand, and his chest expanding didn't make the gash on his side strain against the few stitches that hadn't popped when Dash rammed into him at full speed. What the hell. That was such a dick move.

"Okay, Fenton. You're out for the rest of the class. Go to the nurse if you need to," Tetslaff says.

He nods but makes no move to get up. He doesn't know if he can.

Tetslaff sees his plight, whether she understands the reason for it or not, and barks over her shoulder. "Baxter! Your fault, your problem. Help Fenton inside."

"We can take him," Tucker says. At the same time, Dash whines, "Come on, Coach. There's no way I hit him that hard."

Tetslaff sticks out an arm, holding Sam and Tucker back. "Get to it, Baxter."

Dash groans but relents and steps into Danny's field of view. Rather than kneeling, or doing anything actually helpful, he bends down a little and sticks out his hand.

Danny stares at it.

"Well? You're holding up the game, Fenton."

Danny almost gets up on his own, just to spite Dash, but the second he tries to lever himself up, his side screams, and Danny has to bite back another cry of pain. Reluctantly, he grabs Dash's hand. Dash hauls him upright, far from gentle, and sets Danny down on his feet. Dash starts forward, but Danny hangs back.

"Hurry up," Dash says.

"Just... hold on a second." Danny squeezes his eyes shuts and clamps his hands against his side. The pressure helps, a little. If he's bleeding, it'll at least hide the evidence. He really hopes he put enough gauze on the wound. He didn't exactly think he'd be dealing with this today when he wrapped it.

"Dude, we can take you," Tucker says. He and Sam haven't moved away. Even Valerie still hovers close by, giving Danny a concerned look over his friends' shoulders.

"Manson, you're team captain until Dash gets back. Foley." Tetslaff shakes her head. "Your grades aren't much better than Fenton's here. Let's go, back on the field. It's game time.

"But—"

"It's fine, guys." Danny tries to smile, but he is sure it comes out like a grimace instead. Neither of them look like they believe him.

"Ms. Tetslaff!" Valerie steps in front of the teacher. "Danny's on my team. I want to make sure he's okay. Kwan can take over as captain for me."

"Okay, fine. Now let's get back to the game, people!" Tetslaff puts a hand on Sam and Tucker's shoulder each and pushes them toward the field. Over her shoulder, Sam mouths "Thank you" at Valerie.

"Can we just hurry up?" Dash says. Before Danny is ready, Dash's hand clamps down his shoulder and starts driving him forward. Danny stumbles, nearly tripping over his own feet, and is forced to open his eyes or else go tumbling all over again. Valerie appears on his injured side, walking fast to keep up with Dash's pace.

"Are you okay?" she asks. She reaches toward Danny, but holds back, her gaze flitting down to the hand over his ribs.

"Yeah, totally fine. I, uh, got caught up in that ghost fight yesterday, got a little bruised," he says.

"You should have told Tetslaff. She would have let you sit out," Valerie says.

"Yeah, I should have." Too bad Danny hadn't thought of that lie before. And it wasn't even a lie, technically.

The walk to the gym doors feels much farther than it did at the start of class. Dash yanks the door open once they're close enough and deposits Danny on the nearest bench. "There, you're fine. Whatever."

"Don't be such a dick, Dash," Valerie says.

Danny wobbles, bracing himself against the wall as he sits down. While Valerie helps, grabbing his arm and keeping him steady, Dash doesn't make a move.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asks.

"Yeah. I'm just gonna sit for a bit."

"If you say so." With one last concerned glance, Valerie leaves the gym.

Danny sits, one hand pressed against his side, feeling the deep, pulsing ache that won't leave. The ice he applied earlier hasn't faded yet, but if Danny's stitches are ripped as he suspects, a little numbing cold won't help for much longer.

Dash clears his throat, reminding Danny that he hasn't left yet.

"What?" Danny glares at him through half-lidded eyes.

"Sorry, or whatever. I thought you were gonna move, okay?"

"You sure sound sorry."

Dash bristles. "Whatever, Fenton. I was trying to be nice, but I guess I'll just fuck off then."

"Yeah, you do that."

Dash stomps out of the gym without looking back, slamming the door behind him. The bang echoes through the empty room. Alone at last, a whimper slips through Danny's lips. You would think that, over the years, he would get used to getting injured so much, learn to adjust to the pain. Whoever first said that was such a liar. It never stops hurting. Dizzying pain is dizzying pain no matter how often you experience it.

Danny sits for a few minutes, breathing slow and even, bracing himself for what he knows is coming. Peeling his hand away from his side, he checks his shirt. Faint pink splotches greet his eyes, not a lot, but enough to make him groan. He reaches under his shirt, slipping his fingers underneath the bandages, and probes the tender skin. His fingers come away slick and red.

"Shit." He applies a fresh coat of ice, enough to seal over the wound, and pushes himself off the bet, slick hand sliding against the wood. The entrance to the boys' changeroom lies only a few feet away, but it feels farther. He shuffles inside, bracing one hand against the wall. The hall leading in stretches for a good ten feet before cutting into a sharp right angle and opening into the main room.

The silence inside is just as oppressive as the quiet of the gym. Even though it's the middle of the school day, being here without the chatter of other boys as they change feels odd.

Danny lets himself slump onto the bench, breathing heavily

"I'm gonna kill Dash," he says to the empty room. But knowing his luck, Dash would come back as a ghost and haunt the hell out of him. It seems like the kind of asshole thing he would do

Danny fumbles for his bag, hooking his finger around the strap and dragging it close. It takes him a minute of digging to find his phone, which he stuffed inside at the start of class. He quickly checks the time. There are ten minutes left of class. More than enough time to check his side and get patched up before Tetslaff dismisses everyone to get changed.

The smart thing would be to go into one of the showers, make sure he has complete privacy, but he doesn't want to put in the effort of walking that far.

"It'll be fine," Danny says and gets to work

—

Dash doesn't return to the game. As the gym door slams beside him, he leans against the wall and stares down at his shoes. Outside, he looks composed, but in his head, his thoughts tumble about. He can't shake the image of Valerie's glare. Fenton couldn't take a hit, so what? It's not like Dash actually didanything. He's gotten Fenton a lot worse than that before. It's not his fault the guy was already banged up from some dumb ghost fight. Not his problem.

And yet, the pained cry as Dash bowled Danny over, the sight of his crumpled body on the grass... it makes Dash shudder.

"I apologized," he says. There's no one around to hear it, to justify him. He wonders what his therapist will say about this, if Dash bothers mentioning it at their next appointment.

Valerie's glare flashes through his mind again.

"Okay, fine!" He throws his arms up and shoves away from the wall. One quick moment to check on Danny, then he'll return to the game. He's only doing this so that his therapist doesn't give him that look on Monday; the look that isn't quite disappointed, because she could never be disappointed in one of her clients, but comes pretty damn close.

Dash only receives that look when he does something dumb, like shoving nerds in lockers or taking his anger out on someone else.

Dash eases the door to the gym back open and peeks inside. The bench he left Danny on is empty. A smear of red stands out against the pale wood. Dash creeps inside, closing the door quietly behind him. His heart sinks as he nears the bench, and comes to the unmistakable conclusion: blood.

Not my fault, Dash reminds himself. It does little in the way of reassurance. Walking briskly, he heads for the doors leading further into the school. If Danny is bleeding, he must have gone to the nurse. Which means he will be fine, but Dash needs to be sure.

A low groan stops him in his tracks.

For a moment, he thinks he imagined it, but then it comes again, accompanied by a pained hiss. The sound comes from the changing room. Holding his breath, he turns from the door and enters the changeroom.

Short, sharp breaths greet him, growing louder as he nears the main room. A shaky whimper cuts through, followed by a gasp.

Dash peeks around the corner. He sees Danny's shirt first, discarded on the bench. Next to it is a pile of wrappings. It looks like the ace bandages Dash uses whenever he gets a sprain, although he doesn't remember seeing Danny wearing any. And then, he looks to Danny himself and pales.

One arm drawn back, head tilted forward to see his side, Danny peels a stained gauze pad away from his bloody ribs. Suddenly, Dash can't breathe. His throat feels clogged. His heart hammers in his ear. The gash in Danny's side is easily the length of Dash's hand. It rips across his ribs and curves up toward his armpit, ending just under his arm. Dash doesn't know much about first aid, but the stitches holding the wound together look sloppy. They pull in different directions, turning what appears to be a clean cut into a wobbly mess. Around it, Danny's skin is stained red. Blood seeps between the stitches.

A few small drops slide down Danny's exposed skin as Dash watches, pooling briefly against the waistband of his gym shorts before they are absorbed

"Fuck," Dash whispers.

Danny jumps back, spinning mid-air to face Dash. In his horror, Dash doesn't think to question the impossibility of that action. Danny drops the gauze pad, which lands bloody side down on the floor, and clamps his arm down over the injury.

"What are you doing?" Danny's voice hitches, caught between an accusing growl and a startled squeak.

Dash gapes, mouth opening and closing as he searches for something to say. His mind comes up blank. "Danny, what... what the hell? What happened to you?"

Dash's voice seems to snap Danny out of his shock. All at once, his body goes rigid and his expression turns cold. "Get out."

"You need to go to the nurse!"

"DASH!" Danny bellows.

Dash stumbles back, falling against the wall. Tetslaff's laugh voice is loud. Jack Fenton's voice booms. But just now, Dash felt the floor shake under his feet. Danny's voice rumbled in Dash's chest, knocked him off his feet. The whole school must have heard it, they had to.

"I won't say it again. Get the hell out right now," Danny says.

Dash obeys. Whether it's out of fear or a genuine desire to follow Danny's will, he can't tell. He books it out of the changeroom, across the gym, and bursts outside, only to come face to face with Kwan and the rest of the class.

"Whoa!" Kwan reels back in surprise. "You missed the rest of the game. Val's team won."

"Oh, the game. Right." Dash takes a deep breath, struggling to get himself under control.

"So... you gonna let us in?"

Dash doesn't move.

"Get out of the way, Dash," Valerie says. Pushing to the front of the group, she tries to shove past him.

Dash leaps in front of her. "No!" He can't let anyone else see Danny.

"Dude, not cool. We want to check on Danny," Tucker says.

Dash wavers. Danny's friends have to know what's up with him, right? There is no way he could have stitched that up himself, not with how much struggle it took to even look at the injury. When Tucker and Sam slip by Dash, he makes no move to stop them. Their entrance opens the floodway, and soon enough everyone is pushing past Dash into the gym.

"Wait!" He latches on to Kwan's arm as his best friend passes.

"Did something happen?" Kwan asks.

Dash swallows, unsure how to answer. "Sort of?" Now isn't the right time to tell Kwan, though, not with their classmates around them, and the rest of their friends absent.

"Let's go get changed." Kwan pats Dash's shoulder and guides him forward. Every step closer to the change room, Dash's anxiety mounts. Danny reacted so poorly to one person finding him. Dash can only imagine what will happen—what stricken look Danny will wear—when half their class walks in on his shirtless and bloody.

Except, when they turn the corner into the change room proper, Danny isn't there. His stuff is gone, too. Tucker's crumpled gym shirt covers the spot where the gauze pad landed. There are no signs Danny was there at all.

#phic phight #phic phight 2021 #phanfic #phicc #dp fanfiction #danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #danny fenton #dash baxter #swagger bishie #danny/dash #deepwounds

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theshelbyclan · 4 years

Text

Angel

Summary: You cross paths with famous Thomas Shelby after killing someone he wanted dead, and you can’t help but recognise so much of yourself in this man

(Gif by @nofckingfighting) A/N: The ever-lovely @psych0crybaby requested: good evening my dear. i saw that your request are open again. Could i ask for some Tommy with a total badass reader? Maybe where she saves their asses and no one knows where she is( and she just walks away) and then they see her again and ada explains to them that she mostly kills rapists and guys who harass woman because someone did the same to her when she was in the war? if you are comfortable with, if not have a good evening or day 🌺 I remember the first time I read this request and immediately being drawn to it. I did however want to do it right, you know? Like I really wanted to think about it, so I have. This comes with a warning for anyone familiar with PTSD, and some sexual abuse and assault is mentioned: this may be triggering. Sorry that it took a while to get this out, but I hope you like the result! Words: 4370 *** Breathe in. Look. See. Focus. Remember. Breath out. Throw. The first knife whooshed passed your face and hit the wall opposite you. The second followed quickly, almost magnetically. The third came after a small pause, the silence in which people feel a false sense of safety, and hit the target right in its middle.

“You’re too pretty to be out here in the mud.” “Again,” you told yourself, “there’s four of them”. Everything comes in four, good or bad. So you moved suddenly, ducked and threw three more knives, previously hidden in your sleeves.

“You know you want it.” Like a cat you jumped up onto a roof and mid-air threw three more, taken from your pockets. But the hardest was yet to come. The last man was always hidden, always late, like that last knife. He too swished and betrayed. So from your boots, you took another knife, jumped down suddenly and planted it in the back of the invisible assailant. “Good girl…” The job was done. Now for the real work. “What happened to you?” And you told yourself, “I’m ready.” ***

“What is your concern, Tommy?” “The one minute. The soldier’s minute. In battle it’s all you get.” Thomas Shelby lived his life looking over his shoulder, but when he turned, there was nothing there. You see it happening, everything at once and there’s no avoiding it. It’s always there, right behind you. Like running through a house with the devil hot on your heels, finally finding the way out, but when you step into the garden, it starts all over again: you’re back at your starting point. You see, your body may be outside in the sunlight, but your mind is back at the house. That’s what it felt like, every day. “We live somewhere between life and death.” This is what existing is: always living somewhere between life and death, between sleep and awake. And the nightmares, they bled into the days, taking over slowly. “Is it another war you’re looking for, Tommy?” There was supposed to be one war, to end all wars. But instead, kids were sent out to die in the mud, and for what? All that blood, smoke, tears, sweat and carnage. Men blowing the whistles, boys praying and crying. Was he looking for another war? That would imply the first one had ended. “I’ll remember everything and forget nothing. I’m thinking ahead, thinking of every possibility, remembering everything that is happening…” As if he could forget. The smallest things could trigger his memories, taking him right back. When John was little, he used to be scared of a monster. Ada had told him that: that there was a witch living in the walls that you could only see in the mirrors. John didn’t sleep for weeks after her little story. And now, the monster turned out to be real, except no one believed in it anymore. Still, it was everywhere and you had to be constantly on your guard. Because it’s not just in the walls and mirrors; it’s always right behind you, creeping, slithering, crawling it’s way up your spine… And so he became a machine, no longer a human being, fuelled by whiskey and cigarettes only, always plotting. “Thomas Shelby against the whole bloody world, right?” And so he wrote, “My name is Thomas Shelby and today, I’m going to kill a man.” *** There had been five of you at home. And home was in Small Heath, though you moved house all the time. When the poverty got bad, the family was split up and you and mother went into a boarding house for women, while father and the oldest brothers went into a boarding house for men. You were alright with this, because father was a bad man, but you feared for your brothers. Mother was the sweetest woman to ever live, always making sure you ate before she did. You never noticed her withering away before it was too late. At twelve, you started working. Walking the docks and shipyards was dangerous, so your brothers tried their best to prepare you. They weren’t like the other men in Small Heath. “Take this,” one brother told you on the morning of your first shift, “Hide it, in those boots.” You’d gotten charity boots, the first one in the family! But walking in them still felt uneasy, and now he expected you to slide in a small knife as well? “When someone comes,” he continued, urging you with his fiery eyes, “you stick ‘m. Don’t wait, don’t hesitate and don’t ask any questions. When he comes, you stick ‘m and you keep on sticking ‘m!” This was the first lesson you’d been taught. Four brothers all taught their little sister and each had but one objective: keeping you safe. One gave you the knife, the other taught you how to fight and the third took the beatings your drunk father had intended for you. The fourth hadn’t any strength or knowledge to share, so he kept close. Wherever you went, he followed in the shadows, and it was like having your own guardian angel, made up of filth and smoke. When the war came, they all enlisted. Of course they did: they were good, strong and brave men. You saw them off, one by one, and after waving goodbye to your guardian angel, something inside you snapped. Inspired by their love and courage, you became a nurse and took up a post at the front. You became a guardian angel yourself. *** Tommy was looking for a war. After France, they’d taken over the Shelby enterprise again and he had ambitions of expansion. Still, there were those in Small Heath who’d forgotten about the Shelby’s and he had to re-establish their reputation. “It’s happened again, Tommy,” John said sombrely, during a family meeting. Tommy sighed and dipped his head forwards, “Will he live?” “Yeah,” his brother replied, “but what are we going to do about this?” Polly, the voice of reason, said, “You need to make an example of him, Thomas. Show him who’s in charge. We can’t have a few Irish rebels killing and beating up our runner-boys. It’s bad for business.” Tommy nodded slowly and was formulating a plan as they spoke, “He drinks at the Horse’s Head. That’s where we’ll get him.” “Are you mad?” Arthur questioned, “On any given night there’s at least fifty Irish in there. It’s like a bloody army!” “We’re not scared of some fucking Irish,” John spat. “We’re not,” Tommy looked at his aunt with whom he shared his strategic skills, “but we need to be smart about this.” “Smoke him out,” Polly added, knowing her nephew’s mind so well. “We need an incentive.” Everything was all planned out. Tommy had an explosion, a staged fight and the rum in place. The men would scatter, the police would be elsewhere and their target would run. As the pub would be set on fire, he would literally be smoked out. That’s where they would be. The plan was good, well thought out and each eventually had been dealt with.

When the night came, the first part worked like a well-oiled machine. A small explosion in the shipyards, John’s, had drawn the police away. It would take them a while too, seeing as the Communists held their meetings there. Danny Whizz-bang would be inside the pub, looking both menacingly and vulnerable enough to not attract attention among the rebels. He was doing good tonight; he’d be able to light the fire. Tommy, Arthur and a few other blinders were waiting in the alleyways. Smoke started emerging from the pub and Tommy’s head shot up at the shouts of men. As he was getting ready mentally, he thought: some day, I won’t be the one doing this work. As men started fighting and chaos ensued, he followed one insignificant figure with his eyes. This man ran, frantically, into the protection of one of the dark alleys. Tommy followed and shouted his name. The man turned and his face fell as he recognised the Shelby. He in turn grabbed his gun and pointed it at him, saying, “Don’t fuck with the Peaky Blinders.” But as Tommy was about to pull the trigger, the man fell forwards. The irritation of an eventuality not anticipated shot through Tommy and as he walked forwards, he saw a small knife sticking out of the Irish’ neck. He died on the spot. His first thought was if he could still pass this off as a killing by the Peaky Blinders, because Polly had been right: they needed to make a statement. Of course he could. His second thought lasted a lot longer and actually drove him to action: who’d done this? The angle of the knife made him look up, towards the roofs. No one was there, but Tommy still ran. As a kid, he used to climb roofs. As an adult, he dug tunnels. It’s funny how both came back to him now. Fearing whomever it was he couldn’t see, he chased the murderer. Once up, he could easily recognise the signs: someone had been on the roofs. There were bits of dust where bricks had been falling, flecks of ash where someone had been smoking and the smell of soap where someone had been waiting. Still, the killer was long gone. *** You weren’t sleeping, but sort of dreaming with one eye open. You did that a lot. Nightmares kept you vigilant, even at night. The boarding house you were living at was positively Dickensian, but you didn’t mind. You came from nothing and had little trouble going back to it. Besides, there was no money coming in at the moment, so you didn’t have the funds for any proper room.

In the dark, you thought of the men on your list. One of the best things about the boarding house was its anonymity. People who lived here were the poorest of the poorest, only surpassed by those on the streets and the working houses. No one asked any questions, no one looked at each other and shame drove people into hiding. The large room was separated into small spaces by a few curtains only, but still, there was some sense of privacy. In the darkness, you could think. The worst thing about the boarding house was the sound. It wasn’t the crying babies, children whining for food or people fighting each other, but the sound of pain. Some women wailed in their sleep and it shook you to your core every time. Your mother had sounded like that. You had too, you knew it. Early in the morning, you left. “Where are you off to, eh?” the old lady who slept next to you asked. In some ways, she was the pauper’s queen and she got away with prying. “Work,” you replied shortly. The old woman laughed a hoarse laugh, “You’re not fooling no one, dearie…” As soon as you walked onto the streets, a calmness came over you. Poverty was familiar, but it frightened you too. It was like a hand around your throat, always squeezing just a little but more. Inside, especially, it was like drowning. In Small Heath, some women had started their first shifts at the factories already and men were shovelling coal into the big machines. Sparks flew and fizzled out in your hair. Soot clung to your already filthy clothing. In other words, nothing about you looked out of the ordinary. The rest of the day was filled with you practising two skills: observing and vanishing. You listened in on conversations everywhere, while timidly looking away when anyone did notice you. Men boasted of their achievements and women complained everywhere. But you listened for any signs of cruelty and found it easily. See, in a city forgotten by civilisation, no one notices cruelty anymore. It’s part of everyday life. You, however, had decided to change that. This was your revenge, or atonement, whichever way you looked at it. One man in particular stood out to you. His eyes were cold and his shoulders broad, and when his wife came to him during his break, he slapped her without warning. Sometimes menace leaves a certain aura and you could sense it in him. When a filthy child came from the factory as well, also on a short break, you motioned the child to come over. “Hey, love,” you said softly. The child didn’t trust you, but his sunken eyes still pleaded, “What?” “Here,” you offered him a bun you’d just stolen, “I need your help.” He hadn’t eaten in days, that much was clear, and with his mouth full of crumbs, he said, “Wiff whaff?” “I’m new here in Birmingham. Where can I get a job?” He pointed, “Ask the foreman.” You smiled gently, “Thanks, love.” “Where’d you get the bun?” he inquired, less shy with each bite. “My husband bought it for me.” “You not hungry?” This child was sweet, so he’d know, “No, you have it. We got more at home.” “Okay,” and he continued absolutely devouring the pastry. Just before he walked off again, you asked him, off-handedly, “That man, over there?” you pointed at the man with stony eyes, “You know him?” The boy fell still, “Yeah. He works here.” “What’s his name?” “Don’t know,” he whispered, “But mum told us to stay away.” “Why?” The kid shrugged, “He’s a bad man I suppose.” “Like those Shelby’s,” you tried, knowing the kid would know them like everyone around here did. It worked. “Nah,” he laughed, “the Shelby’s would never touch a woman!” “Does he?” you asked, eyes narrowing. “Mum says so. Mum says women are scared of him, because he hurts them. All of them.” You nodded slowly, “Why don’t the Peaky Blinders take care of him?” He shrugged again, “Miss? Thanks for the bun, but I really need to get back. I need my job.” “I know,” you urged him, “Go.” In France, you helped the sick and dying. This is what you had come for and you’d given up everything to do it. With the telegram of each brother found dead, you became more focussed on the work. It was like you turned into a machine, running only on adrenaline. Sometimes you would work shifts of 48 hours, simply because the other nurse had collapsed, or because the bodies wouldn’t stop coming in. Fear became second nature and fatigue had to be ignored. But being tired also made vulnerable: you learned this when one of the superior officers followed you into the halls of the makeshift hospital. Remaining on your feet after working for so long was easy, as long as you kept on moving. But when he grabbed you and you paused, your knees started buckling. Maybe it’d been the fear, maybe it was his rank and maybe it was purely that fucking bloody war, but there was no fight left in you in that moment. He had his way with you and you just… froze. Shame and guilt drove you back to England and back into the shadows you retreated. And then, shame and guilt turned into anger and the guardian angel became an avenging angel. You didn’t have to wait long. After his work was done, you followed the man with the cold eyes, watching his every move. All your fears and the kid’s warnings were confirmed in a dark corner of a filthy street. The woman never stood a chance. And so you vowed: you would end him. *** “What’s up with you?” Ada asked pointedly. Tommy’s head shot up and he stared at his sister with vacant eyes. “Thomas Shelby, the man who never eats. A rare biological mystery, he is,” Ada commented sarcastically. He grabbed a fork and picked up a potato, “I eat.” “Hardly,” Polly commented. “I have work to do, so if you ladies don’t mind…” But Ada wasn’t finished, “You’ve been lost in thought all day. Mind sharing it with us?” “No really.”

“Because we’re just women or…”

“Ada!” Tommy sighed, “Something… happened. Something unexpected and I can’t figure out how.”

“And this bothers you.”

There was something deeply infuriating about having a sister who was reading the newspaper, right next to you, but never made eye contact, and still she was absolutely right about everything. So Tommy threw his head back and admitted defeat, “Someone killed a man.”

“It’s Small Heath.”

“Someone I wanted dead, but he got there before me.”

Polly sat back down and leaned forwards, “The Irish? I though we did that.”

“Yes, that is what I had people believe.”

Ada suddenly looked up, “How?”

“I failed to take it into my calculations…”

“No. How was the Irish killed?”

Tommy blinked a few times, “A knife. Thrown from the roof.”

His sister smiled faintly, didn’t say a word and then went back to her newspaper.

“Ada…” Tommy growled, “If you know something, tell me.”

“Why? I thought you boys were taking care of business now.”

He looked at his aunt for support, almost desperate, but saw from her face that he could hope for little sympathy there.

“Fine, what do you want,” he demanded.

“Respect,” Ada said coldly.

“You have my respect.”

“Good,” she slowly flipped the page, “Now tell me you need me.”

Polly’s smirk grew into a grin and Tommy cursed all women, right there and then.

So he cleared his throat, “Ada, please, tell me.”

“It’s almost like it’s physically painful for him, isn’t it?” Polly said conversationally to Ada.

“Fucking hell…” Tommy groaned, “Ada, I fucking need your help. Please just tell me what you know!”

“Fine,” she abruptly closed the newspaper, “You need to go to that pub in Digbeth.”

“The one by the water?” Tommy frowned.

“That’s the one. Next to that boarding house that should’ve been closed years ago. That’s where you’ll find your killer.”

Immediately, he stood up. Because even though he thought he’d been subtle about it, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the incident for days now. The killer, whoever he was, had taken over his thoughts entirely. It was dark outside already, but still early enough for the pubs to be open. He’d go there at once.

“Tell her I said ‘hi’,” Ada called after him as he left.

And Tommy retraced his steps slowly, “‘Her’?”

“Her.”

He paused for a second, but when nothing else came, “You know they don’t allow women in pubs.”

“They do her,” Ada chuckled.

“Ada, stop playing these fucking games!” he shouted, as he threw down his cap in anger.

She, however, didn’t even blink and repeated, “Her. It’s a woman who killed your Irishman. All the women here know her; she takes care of a certain kind of man for us. She doesn’t want it known and she rids the world of bastards, so we leave her be. It all works out.”

Tommy turned to Polly, “Did you know of this?”

“I’ve heard of her, yes.”

“Then why the fuck has no one told me before?”

Polly sent a stern gaze at her nephew from over her teacup, “I thought you weren’t interested in women’s business.”

***

When you walked into the pub, a small nod to the man behind the bar was all that was needed. Dressing like a man had many advantages and this was definitely one of them. Still, he knew you were a woman, but after helping him out one night, you were allowed in. So you sat in the corner and became one with the furniture, drinking your whiskey in silence.

And then it happened. One man, who had no business being here, walked in. Thomas Shelby of the Peaky Blinders was considered royalty in Small Heath, so why would he be here, in this grimy little cellar pub?

The thought that he came looking for you never even crossed you mind at first. He leaned over the bar and ordered whiskey, asking a few more questions you couldn’t hear. You tried to listen more closely, but the more you did so, the more inaudible his words seemed to become.

Suddenly, he turned and looked you right in the eyes. Without a second thought, you jumped up, kicked the table towards him and made your way to the door.

“Fuck,” you heard him ground out, but still he was quick. In a flash, he had the door barricaded and a gun pointed at your head.

“Out!” he commanded everyone but you.

You felt for the reassuring blades under your clothes and relaxed a little.

“Now, Miss…” he started after everyone had left.

But you didn’t plan on being interrogated, so the first knife whooshed passed his head: a warning.

Thomas Shelby froze. Then it was like an animal awoke in him and he lunged forwards, tackling you down with him. While you were struggling, you tried to plant a second knife into his leg, but he rolled away just in time. With big eyes he stared at the weapon now stuck in the floor.

And so you were standing opposite each other, weapons of choice pointed at each other’s heads.

“Alright,” he said after a while, holding up his hands in a pacifying manner, “There’s no need to fight.”

“Spoken by a man who knows he will lose,” you replied, without missing a beat.

“You want a fight?” Tommy said quickly, “Then fight me like a man. No gun, no fucking knives. If my sister is right about you, you’ll fight me like a man.”

With that you scoffed and threw away the knives, right next to his head, into the door. It gave you such pleasure to see him shudder with each one, but your face betrayed nothing.

“Now what?” you asked.

“You tell me.”

“Fine,” you sighed and punched him in the face, hard.

As his head shot back, you noticed a flicker of surprise in his features, but he quickly recovered and his face turned emotionless yet again.

Your triumph didn’t last long. If anything, you arrogance had distracted you, so the three blows that followed from his fists came out of nowhere. One to the nose, one to the chin and the last one square in the jaw. Thank God you weren’t vain.

You took a breath in, made yourself focus and quickly jabbed him two times, before hitting him right in the eye with a mean left hook.

“Jesus Christ…” he muttered, “Who the fuck taught you how to fight like that?”

“My brothers,” you replied, before you could stop yourself.

Tommy held up his hands and his two punches to your gut literally took your breath away. Meanwhile, he said, “Why aren’t they here to defend you now, eh?”

“Do I look like I need to be fucking defended?” With a sudden kick you were certain you cracked at least on of his ribs.

Wheezing, he leaned over, but managed to grab your leg in the process and flipped you over onto the ground, “Brothers still do.”

“They’re dead,” you said from the floor, “the Somme,” and with one quick motion, you’d tackled him with your legs, “What about you?”

“The Somme too. Verdun…”

Before he could recover, you climbed on top of him and started pounding his pretty face with your fists. Unfortunately, he quickly bucked you off and hit you with a nasty uppercut, which made you wonder about your teeth.

You crawled back a little and felt with a hand at your mouth: blood. Tommy leaned against the wall and was still panting, lightly tracing a hand over his ribs. The chaos subdued and you both rested.

“Are we done?” he growled.

You stared at him with a look that told him you could go on for hours like this, “What is it that you want?”

“I just want to talk.”

Quickly, you started thinking out your options. Clearly, he knew who you were and evidently, you’d killed the wrong person this time. Really, it was bound to happen at some point.

“Who was it?” you asked, “the one you didn’t want dead.”

“I did want him dead,” he said as he slowly lifted his cigarette case from his pocket.

“Then what’s the problem?”

He smiled a little and the gesture was so unexpected that the feeling it gave you caught you completely off-guard, “I wanted to be the one to kill him.”

You furrowed your brows, thought back and suddenly nodded slowly, “The Irishman.”

He pointed at you with his cigarette in hand, “That’s the one.”

In the silence that followed, you watched this man, this broken boy. His eyes started glazing over and you knew he drifted off to placed in the distant past. As he smoked slowly, you recognised the signs of a flashback so well and you suddenly became more curious than ever about this man.

He saw the same thing in you evidently, because out of the blue he said, “You and me. I think we understand each other.”

“Do we?” you said in a voice that demanded distance.

He nodded a little, “We kill.”

You laughed a cold laugh, “Are you insane like me?”

“Maybe I am…”

“Or just in pain like me?” you added.

He didn’t speak for a long time, like he was thinking what to say next, but then, suddenly, he broke the pregnant silence. “Who hurt you?” he asked, in a voice so low it was almost inaudible.

You leaned forwards and locked eyes with him, fire burning inside them, “Everyone.”

Tommy sat back and offered you a cigarette, but soon realised you wouldn’t take it from his hands without expecting abuse from them. So he threw it your way and you grabbed it gratefully. When you lit it, the two of you leaned against the wall in the same manner, postures similar.

“It’s time,” he announced, looking up at the ceiling.

You cocked one eyebrow, “Is it?”

“The minute is almost up.”

“And how does it end?”

He sighed, “With names. You’ve beaten me. I’m no longer Mr. Thomas Shelby. It’s Tommy now.”

And you smiled at him softly and replied with your own vulnerability, “Y/N.”

***

Masterlist

#Thomas shelby #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders headcanon #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders #ada shelby #ada thorne #polly gray #polly shelby #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders angst

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postingjustwhatever · 3 years

Photo

Flynn Fenton redesign

My redesign on Flynn Fenton, I’m a bit late to the party but whatever. First one has a white background, second one none and the third one is just the line are, if anyone wants to use it to try out some different color schemes or anything. I really didn’t intend for the colors here to look as washed out as they do, but I got a new laptop and they looked really vibrant on there but looking at it now on my phone they look really pale.

For this Flynn is the son of Maddie and Vlad from the episode Master of all time. Maddie and Vlad originally continued research in to ghosts after college, even beginning to build a ghost portal. Flynn somehow ended up falling through the portal at some point, Vlad and Maddie actually thought he had been killed (don’t know how I’ll come up with more details later) Thinking their son had been killed as a result of their research Vlad quit the research all together not even wanted to speak of ghost, while Maddie continued it in secret. While the timeline was reset to how it was originally at the end of the episode, Flynn continues to exist in the ghost zone. I headcannon the Ghost Zone as sort of an in between dimension that exist outside of those two timelines but still runs parallel to them. So it was unaffected by the timeline reset. I haven’t decided how Misery Vex fits into this yet (I am redesigning her though btw) Maybe she has been looking out for Flynn or caring for him for a bit but idk I’m still not sure. Flynn has mostly been surviving on his own, he is still mostly a regular human. I think it would be stupid that just anyone could go in the ghost zone, stay there for a while and basically end up with ghost powers. What’s the point of Danny being a half ghost then, anyone can go get ghost powers. So Flynn is probably affected by it to some degree but not enough that he has a bunch of powers or anything. I like to think he is smart like Maddie and Jazz and is able to build some ghost fighting stuff buy scavenging for parts in the ghost zone. Maybe he’s even trying to find a way back to the human world. He basically has his own little lair which is just a place he keeps all his scavenged stuff. Since humans are basically like ghosts in the ghost zone, able to pass through solid objects, he uses that to his advantage. He sneaks around places trying to stay out of site most of the time. He has become quite skilled at fighting and there are rumors of a dangerous creature in the ghost zone that you don’t want to pick a fight with, one that picks off ghosts in a fight without hardly being seen itself. (sort of like a phantom lol) He wears the skin of a creature he was attacked by but killed. I like to think the ghost zone has its own native creatures while also having the souls of humans who haven’t passed on yet. The one he wears was native to the ghost zone and basically the equivalent to an animal on earth. He wears it mostly as an intimidation tactic because a regular human in the ghost zone is an easy target.

I was trying to base his hair color more on Maddie’s sister, his Aunt Alicia. He has Maddie’s eye color and face shape and Vlad’s nose. He also has a more tall and thin body type like Vlad.

He was pretty young when he went through the portal but he still remembers his parents. He also doesn’t know of all the timeline shenanigans that went down and that basically his version of reality doesn’t exist anymore. (i’m honestly gonna have to go back and rewatch that episode because I don’t remember completely what happened) So to him Vlad and Maddie are still his parents and when he does “reunite” with these characters it’s gonna be kinda awkward, also would make some great drama. This would also set him up for the possibility of a more antagonistic role for a while because I think he would sort of blame Danny for his timeline not existing anymore. (even though Danny was kind of the reason it existed in the first place)

The colors for the clothes on his kid self are based on Vlad’s in this picture.

#danny phantom #flynn fenton #redesign #maddie fenton #jack fenton #vlad masters #flynn masters

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brawltogethernow · 4 years

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So, I don't think I've ever asked you this... what IS the whole point of the Spider-Sense? It really seems like something that only exists for writers to ignore or work around when they want to inject Legit Tension into a story.

I’ve thought about this power so much, but never with an eye to defend its right to exist, so I needed to think about this. The results could be more concise.

Ironically, given the question, I have to say its main purpose is to ramp up tension. But it’s also a highly variable multitool that a skilled creative team can use for...pretty much anything. It does everything the writer wants it to, while for its wielder always falls just short of doing enough.

I went looking through my photos for a really generic, classic-looking example to use as an image to head this topic, but then I ran into the time Peter absolutely did not reimburse this man for his stolen McDonald’s, so have that instead.

A Scare Chord, But You Can Draw It

That one post that says the spider-sense is just super-anxiety isn’t, like, wrong. It’s a very anxious, dramatic storytelling tool originally designed for a very anxious, dramatic protagonist. I find it speaks to the overall tone of the franchise that some characters are functionally psychics, but with a psychic ability that only points out problems.

Spidey sense pinging? There’s danger, be stressed! Broken? Now the lead won’t even KNOW when there’s a problem, scary! Single character is immune to it? That’s an invisible knife in the dark oh my god what the fuck what the fU--

Like its counterpart in garden variety anxiety, the only time the spider-sense reduces tension is in the middle of a crisis. But in the wish fulfillmenty way that you want in an adventure story to justify exaggerated action sequences, the same way enhanced strength or durability does. Also like those, it would theoretically make someone much safer to have it, but it exists in the story to let your character navigate into and weather more dangerous situations.

For its basic role in a story, a danger sense is a snappy way to rile up both the reader and the protagonist that doesn’t offer much information beyond that it’s time to sit smart because shit is about to go down.

Spidey comic canon is all over the board in quality and genre, and it started needing to subvert its formulas before the creators got a handle on what those formulas even were, and basically no one has read anything approaching most of it at this point, so for consistent examples of a really bare bones use of this power in storytelling, I’d point to the property that’s done the best job yet of boiling down the mechanics of Spider-Man to their absolute most basic essentials for adaptation to a compelling monster of the week TV series.

Or as you probably know it, Danny Phantom. DON’T BOO, I’M RIGHT.

DP is Spider-Man with about 2/3 of the serial numbers filed off and no death (ironically), and Danny’s ghost sense is the most proof in the formula example of what the spidey sense is for: It’s a big sign held up for the viewer that says, “Something is wrong! Pay attention!” Effectively a visual scare chord. It’s about That Drama. And it works, which won it a consistent place in the show’s formula. We’re talking several times an episode here.

So why does it work?

It’s a little counterintuitive, but it’s strong storytelling to tell your audience that something bad is going to happen before it does. A vague, punchy spoiler transforms the ignorant calm before a conflict into a tense moment of anticipation. ...And it makes sure people don’t fail to absorb the beginning of said conflict because they weren’t prepared to shift gears when the scene did. Shock is a valuable tool, too, but treating it like a staple is how you burn out your audience instead of keeping them engaged. Not to go after an easy target, but you need to know how to manage your audience’s alarm if you don’t want to end up like Game of Thrones.

The limits of the spider-sense also keep you on your toes when handled by a smart writer. It tells Peter (everyone’s is a little different, so I’m going to cite the og) about threats to his person, but it doesn’t elaborate with any details when it’s not already obvious why, what kind, and from what. And it doesn’t warn him about anything else-- Which is a pretty critical gap when you zoom out and look at his hero career’s successes and failures and conclude that it’s definitely why he’s lived as long as he has acting the way he does, but was useless as he failed to save a string of people he’d have much rather had live on than him.

(Any long-running superhero mythos has these incidents, but with Peter they’re important to the core themes.)

And since this power is by plot for plot (or because it’s roughly agreed it only really blares about threats that check at least two boxes of being major, immediate, or physical), it always kicks in enough to register when the danger is bearing down...when it’s too late to actually do anything about it if “anything” is a more complex action than “dodge”.

Really? Not until the elevator doors started to open?

That Distinctive, Crunchy Spider Flavor

The spider-sense and its little pen squiggles go hand in hand with wallcrawling (and its unique and instantly identifiable associated body language) to make the Spider-Person powerset enduringly iconic and elevate characters with it from being generic mid-level super-bricks. Visually, but also in how it shapes the story.

I said it can share a narrative role with super strength. But when you end a fight and go home, super strength continues to make your character feel powerful, probably safer than they’d be otherwise, maybe dangerous.

The spider-sense just keeps blaring, “Something’s wrong! Something’s wrong! God, why aren’t you doing something about this!?”

Pretty morose thing to live with, for a safety net! Kind of a double edged sword you have there! Could be constantly being hyperattuned to problems would prime you for a negative outlook on life. Kind of seems like a power that would make it impossible for a moral person to take a day off, leading them into a beleaguered and resentful yet dutiful attitude about the whole superhero gig! Might build up to some of the core traits of this mythos, maybe! Might lead to a lot of fifteen minute retirement stories, or something. Might even be a built in ‘great responsibility’ alarm that gets you a main character who as a rule is not going to stop fighting until he physically cannot fight anymore.

Certainly not apropos of anything, just throwing this short lived barely-a-joke tagline up for fun.

One of my personal favorite things about stories with superpowers is keeping in mind how they cause the people who have them to act in unusual ways outside of fights, so when you tell me that these people have an entire extra sense that tells them when the gas in their house is leaking through a barely useful hot/cold warning system that never turns off, I’m like, eyes emojis, popcorn out, notebook open, listening intently, spectacles on, the whole deal.

It also contributes to Peter Parker’s personality in a way I really enjoy: It allows him to act like an irrational maniac. When you know exactly when a situation becomes dangerous and how much, normal levels of caution go out the window and absolutely nothing you do makes sense from an exterior standpoint anymore. That’s the good shit. I would like to see more exploration of how the non-Parker characters experiencing the world in this incredibly altered way bounce in response.

It’s also one of many tools in this franchise hauling the reader into relating more closely with the main character. The backbone of classic Spidey is probably being in on secrets only Peter and the reader know which completely reframe how one views the situation on the page. It’s just a big irony mine for the whole first decade. A convenient way to inform the reader and the lead that something is bad news that’s not perceivable to any other characters is youth-with-a-big-exciting-secret catnip.

Another point for tension, there, in that being aware of danger is not synonymous with being able to act on it. If there’s no visible reason for you to be acting strange, well...you’re just going to have to sit tight and sweat, aren’t you? Some gratuitous head wiggles never hurt when setting up that type of conflict.

Have I mentioned that they look cool? Simultaneously punchy and distinctive, with a respectable amount of leeway for artists to get creative with and still coming up with something easily recognizable? And pretty easy to intuit the meaning of even without the long-winded explanations common in the days when people wrote comics with the intent that someone could come in cold on any random issue and follow along okay, I think, although the mechanic has been deeply ingrained in popular culture for so long that I can’t really say for sure.

It was also useful back in the day when no artists drew the eyes on the Spider-Man mask as emoting and were conveying the lead’s expressions entirely through body language and panel composition. If you wiggle enough squiggles, you don’t need eyebrows.

Take This Handwave and Never Ask Me a Logistical Question Again

This ability patches plot holes faster than people can pick them open AND it can act as an excuse to get any plot rolling you can think of if paired with one meddling protagonist who doesn’t know how to mind their own business. Buy it now for only $19.99 (in four installments; that’s four installments of $19.99).

Why can a teenager win a six on one fight against other superhumans? Well, the spider-sense is the ultimate edge in combat, duh.

Why can Peter websling? Why doesn’t everyone websling? Well, the spider-sense is keeping him from eating flagpole when he violently flings himself across New York in a way neither man nor spider was ever meant to move.

How are we supposed to get him involved with the plot this week???? Well, that crate FELT dangerous, so he’s going to investigate it. Oh, dip, it was full of guns and radioactive snakes! Probably shouldn’t have opened that!

Yeah, okay, but why isn’t it fixing everything, then? Isn’t it supposed to be why Peter has never accidentally unmasked in front of somebody? ('Nother entry for this section, take a shot.) That’s crazy sensitive! How does he still have any problems!? Is everything bad that’s ever happened to characters with this powerset bad writing!? --Listen, I think as people with uncanny senses that can tell us whether we are in danger with accuracy that varies from incredible to approximate (I am talking about the five senses that most people have), we should all know better than to underestimate our ability to tune them out or interpret them wrong and fuck ourselves up anyway. I honestly find this part completely realistic.

*SLAPS ROOF OF SPIDER-SENSE* YOU CAN FIT SO MANY STORIES IN THIS THING

The spider-sense is a clean branch into...whatever. There is the exact right balance of structure and wishy-washiness to build off of. A sample selection of whatevers that have been built:

It’s sci-fi and spy gadgets when Peter builds technology that can interface with it.

It’s quasi-mystical when Kaine and Annie-May get stronger versions of it that give them literal psychic visions, or when you want to get mythological and start talking about all the spider-characters being part of a grand web of fate.

Kaine loses his and it becomes symbolic of a future newly unbound by constraints, entangled thematically with the improved physical health he picked up at the same time -- a loss presented as a gain.

Peter loses his and almost dies 782 times in one afternoon because that didn’t make the people he provoked when he had it stop trying to kill him, and also because he isn’t about to start “””taking the subway’’””’ “‘’“”to work”””’’” like some kind of loser who doesn’t get a heads up when he’s about to hit a pigeon at 50mph.

Peter’s starts tuning into his wife’s anxiety and it’s a tool in a relationship study.

It starts pinging whenever Peter’s near his boss who’s secretly been replaced by a shapeshifter and he IGNORES IT because his boss is enough of an asshole that that doesn’t strike him as weird; now it’s a comedy/irony tool.

Into the Spider-Verse made it this beautiful poetic thing connecting all the spider-heroes in the multiverse and stacked up a story on it about instant connection, loss, and incredibly unlikely strangers becoming a found family. It was also aesthetic as FUCK. Remember the scene where Miles just hears barely intelligible whispering that’s all lines people say later in the film and then his own voice very clearly says “look out” and then the room explodes?? Fuck!!!!

Venom becomes immune to it after hitchhiking to Earth in Peter’s bone juice and it makes him a unique threat while telling a more-homoerotic-than-I-assume-was-originally-intended story about violation and how close relationships can be dangerous when they go sour.

It doesn’t work on people you trust for maximum soap opera energy. Love the innate tragedy of this feature coming up.

IN CONCLUSION I don’t have much patience for writers who don’t take advantage of it, never mind feel they need to write around it.

#spiderman #peter parker #spiderverse #spidey #marvel #danny phantom #one day you'll see what i'm doing with it in the project i'm collabing on w/ my brother and then you'll all be sorry and hopefully impresse #mirrorfalls #asks answered #essays

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twoidiotwriters1 · 3 years

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Written In The Stars CLXXXIV (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: Y'all really thought I would pull a Snape on Erick?? In this economy? As if you didn't know he's my favorite son -Danny

Words: 2,414

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Eighteen: The Muggleborn Protection Squad.

"Is this truly necessary?"

"Well, Erick, you've always been a brilliant liar," Ron said, making sure the Snatchers were all tightly bound by the middle with thick, magical ropes.

"I'm not a backstabbing prat!"

Mel and Ron looked at him sceptically and he rolled his eyes.

"Alright, maybe I am— but not with my friends! I fixed your mess when Umbridge was trying to get you!"

"We already thanked you for that," Mel said, firmly holding his chin to heal his bruises. "Did Snape check your memories when you went to see him?"

"Yeah, which is part of the reason why I stayed away from you. Had to look genuine and I'm not as skilled as you are in Occlumency..."

"What about when you rescued my mum?"

"Well, I said I'm not as skilled as you are, but I'm careful. I asked Mily and Abe to stay behind me at all times, therefore all the memories showed me alone after I supposedly killed her."

"Smart boy... let's see what you're hiding."

Mel stared deeply into his eyes, his pupils got bigger and bigger... suddenly she was falling into their darkness, and she moved through the young man's thoughts one by one:

Recent memories showed him guiding people to strange places, talking to Yaxley in the Ministry, then out in the villages... he was helping the muggle-borns, though she had no idea how was he hiding this from his supervisors.

She came back to the present, Erick shook his head and closed his eyes.

"I think I underestimated Harry's discomfort..."

"Which isn't a surprise," Mel stated, her voice was sounding extremely different now, no longer the numb and bitter tone she'd adopted after Remus's departure. She turned towards Ron with part of the old glint already coming back to her gaze. "He's telling the truth."

"Bloody hell," He quickly released Erick. "If Yaxley finds out about this, he'll kill you!"

"Yeah," Erick rubbed his wrists, "I worry more about living like a slave than I do about dying a hero. Actually, I reckon dying a hero would give Slytherin something worthy to brag about, don't you think?"

"Same old pampered Prince," She grinned.

"Mel," Ron checked his watch. "It's already four in the morning..."

"Right," She stretched her hand towards Erick and held her breath. "Lead the way."

"Hey, you didn't throw up this time!"

"You stop having the reflex after the fiftieth time," She joked. "Ron here wishes he could say the same. He suffered from a splinching a month ago, it wasn't pretty..."

"This is it?" Ron looked up at the huge Victorian-looking house in front of them. "Blimey, you're Grandad was rich, wasn't he?"

"He worked hard to earn it, though," Erick raised a brow. "But yeah, it's lucky he left me this house. He left a house for each of his grandchildren, actually. We're not that many, and Marcus got the smallest one..."

"Why is it lucky that he left you this one?"

"It's really odd," He smiled. "It has secret rooms and all that haunted house rubbish— Emily and Leon get to live here and it's impossible for anyone to find them unless they know where to look. The spell protecting it is similar to the one the Room of Requirements has, but this one is not as strong— doesn't make random things appear, it just hides them."

"Like the spell that kept muggles away from the stadium when we went to the Quidditch final?" Ron said, looking up at the windows appreciatively. "Smart."

"I could've sent them abroad with Joseph, but Emily wanted to stay close in case... well, in case you showed up."

Erick unlocked the door, Mel entered the house and looked around anxiously, but her friend quickly responded to her silent question.

"She doesn't leave her room if I'm here. I told her it was for the best, that way if someone were to check my memories they would see I'm always alone in the house."

"What about now?" Ron frowned. "I'm sure it's worse to be seen with a wanted criminal than with someone who's supposed to have died months ago."

Erick grimaced. "We'll find a way to fix that later. Let's go upstairs..."

The former Headboy guided them through the second floor and then the third, there he pointed to his Grandad's portrait— muggle made, judging for the way it wasn't moving— and told Mel to knock four times.

"Your mother always thought you'd come. We'll be waiting downstairs— Are you guys hungry?" Ron nodded enthusiastically, Erick grinned. "Come help me in the kitchen, then."

They left her in front of the portrait; with a shaky hand, Mel knocked on its edge four times. Merely two seconds went by before half of the painting swung backwards and revealed a wide room: Standing right at the door, with her wavy, long auburn hair falling elegantly down her back, was Emily Sultens.

Mel let out a sob, she jumped into her mother's arms and both women fell to their knees.

"I thought you were dead!" She exclaimed, perceiving a bit of resentment in her own voice.

"I'm sorry," Emily held her tighter. "I thought that maybe it was better if you thought we were gone— that way neither Snape nor You-Know-Who would've been able to coarse you into doing anything. What you said to me last Christmas, it was cruel of me to treat you so harshly—"

"I shouldn't have said you sent others to fight for you, I know you never wanted any of that," Mel hastily wiped her tears. "I know you fought in your own way and you looked after Harry and me, we owe you everything."

"Where is he? Is he downstairs?"

Mel felt a tug of guilt at the question, she was about to reply when a new voice distracted her.

"Mummy!"

She looked over the woman's shoulder to meet Leon's striking grey eyes. His hair was longer than before, now completely covering his ears, he was taller too.

"Look who's here, love!" Her mother smiled. "It's your sister!"

"Hi, boy!" She could barely see him thanks to her own tears. "You remember me? I'm your favourite sister! I'm Mel!"

The boy's smile faltered a bit, but a part of him seemed to recognize her, he walked up to her and his little hand came into contact with her cheek, his eyes locked with hers.

"Mel," He repeated.

"That's me."

The girl picked her brother up and hugged him, kissing all over his face and throwing soft apologies as she cleaned his cheeks from the tears she'd spilt on them.

"I can't believe you're alive!" The girl exclaimed. "I know you didn't mean it, Mum, but you're going to pay for all the therapy I'll need if I survive the war..."

Emily chortled, listening to her voice was like drinking a whole cauldron of Felix Felicis.

"One day at a time, girl," The woman stood up and kissed her shoulder.

Emily was incredibly understanding with Ron when they explained how they'd ended up separating from the others.

"It's always hard when good things start lacking," She sighed. "Sirius could be cruel on bad days, he didn't like not being able to help, just like you, Ron. You guys have no idea how important you are for the fight right now. Rumours spread after you went to the Ministry, you know? The fact that no one's got you gives them hope, keeps them fighting."

"It was the Hor—" Mel discretely pinched his arm, Ron quickly corrected himself. "It was the talk we overheard. Knowing Ginny had been punished at school put me on edge, and well, we all know Harry isn't patient when a fight breaks..."

"We were under a lot of pressure, knowing our friends were being mistreated put us in a tough spot— still, it was nice to hear a friend's voice..."

"Dean Thomas, you say?" Erick asked, already starting to come up with an idea. "I'll try to be the one who finds his group, I'll talk to Yaxley in..." He looked down at his watch. "Sweet Merlin, three hours! I'll tell him I've been noticing some strange activity in that area... It isn't that far from here, anyway."

"Talking about that," Ron replied. "You haven't explained to us what are you doing if you're not bringing anyone to the Ministry? How come Yaxley still trusts you?"

"Who said I'm not taking people to the Ministry? I told you before, they're extremely easy to trick."

"Yeah, but how are you doing it?"

"What you have to know, Ronald, is that Snatchers come and go all the time. They only care about the money, they're not Death Eaters— although some search groups are led by them. Yaxley gives me the recruits that aren't here to stay, he thinks that I go easy on them. Whenever we find muggle-borns I make sure the prisoners know what my real intentions are. I'm the one who takes their wands, so obviously I can give them back when the others aren't paying attention."

"Then what?"

"I use the Imperio curse on the Snatchers, make them drink Polyjuice potion with the hairs of our prisoners, and then that's it. Hey, I never said I was fair!" He added when he noticed their expressions. "I know it's terrible to send someone to Azkaban when they don't deserve it, but I give away the money I get from it, I give it to the real muggle-borns so they can flee the country and look after their families. I have agents that help them disappear: Joseph is in France, Daphne went to the Netherlands, and Lucas is currently hiding a whole family in New York... We're all over the five continents."

"Erick, that's... that's..."

"Cool," Ron finished for her. "You know what? I agree with you— better to send those racists prats than the real innocents."

"Are the Dementors still guarding the prison, though?"

"Not really," Erick shrugged. "Half of them are out in the open looking for victims, only about a third stayed to guard the prison. So it can't be that bad, can it?"

No one answered his question, instead, Mel asked one more.

"I saw Joseph at Bill and Fleur's wedding and he had no idea of where you were, how come now he's helping you?"

"Had no choice but to contact him when I ran out of places to hide people," He grumbled. "He almost cried when I asked him, said he'd be honoured to help."

"He told me the last time he spoke to you, you were acting all weird..."

"Part of my act," Erick took a sip of the wine glass he had. "Tried my best to look all crazy for Dolohov's enjoyment. But I didn't waste my time, while I was at Joseph's I asked him about the empty properties our family owns. Right now they're shelters for the muggle-borns and their families. We provide food and all that, Emily here brews potions, all those magical cooking things I'm still learning, then we send them by owl during the night."

"I think you're my favourite rich guy right now," Mel teased. "I can't believe you're doing all this!"

"It's not enough," He shook his head. "I can't find all of them on time. Greyback's head of a search group and he's really good, he likes to play with his preys as well— muggles that have nothing to do with this are being murdered on the daily, sometimes it's too much..."

"We do our best, all of us," Emily reached out to hold Ron's hand. "And we're all worthy."

They had decided to leave Erick's house to go look for Harry and Hermione, it was hard to say goodbye, but she couldn't stay.

However, as time went by Ron and Mel started to get more and more anxious, they called and search the area but it was no use. After a moment of silence, Mel looked back at her watch and realized it was already nine in the morning. Harry and Hermione surely had abandoned the campsite by now.

"We can't stay here, Ron," She said miserably. "We need a few days to get our things in order and decide what we'll do next."

The boy's face turned pale. "How are we going to find them?"

Mel hid her fear and worry as she continued. "I say we go back and ask Erick if he can let us stay for a few days, although it would put at risk all he's been doing..."

Her friend wasn't surprised at all when he found them standing outside his doorstep.

"Knew you wouldn't be able to find them," He commented nonchalantly, "they probably left right after you guys disappeared."

"You always know what to say to make me feel better," Mel said grumpily. "You're leaving?"

"I'm about to go and look for Dean's group," Erick nodded. "Hopefully, I'll come back tonight and tell you where you'll be sleeping. If not then just take the first room you can find."

"Thanks, mate," Ron sighed. "I'm really sorry I caused this, it wasn't my intention..."

"It's not your fault," She assured him. "If anything, it's bloody Vol—"

"DON'T!" Everyone shouted at her.

Mel blinked. "I thought Ron was the only idiot who didn't like the name?"

"It's not that, they've turned the name in taboo," Erick explained, fixing his travelling cloak. "That's how they find members of the Order, the spell gives their location, even if the area's guarded with magic."

"Oh," She said, turning to look at Ron in surprise. "Looks like your intuition was right for once!"

He pocked her side. "How long are we going to stay here?"

"A week at most? Also," Mel stared at Erick apologetically. "I think we should obliviate you. The longer we interact, the more they can take from you."

"I agree," He yawned. "Can't be today though, I need to have a clear head this morning if I'm going to alter five minds. Think it's time I send the lot to Azkaban... I guess..." He rubbed his eyes tiredly, then he heaved a sigh. "I'm not proud of this part of my job, you know?"

"We know."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @reverse-hxlland @hamiltonwc @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @dielgonacoffee @thelastpyle @cedricisnotdead @aconfusedslytherin @greengarsstuff @talksoprettyjjx

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

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