#description of a flashback
Text
In the Shadow of Speculation Part 3
Part 1, Part 2, Ao3
The chapter TW
blood tw
broken bones tw
description of a flashback
abled verbiage tw
self hatred tw (mild)
forced parenthood equivalent (but in a ghost culture way.)
Ellie peeked at her older brother from behind her physics textbook.
Danny was surrounded by notes, a treatise on ancient magic’s uses in modern medicine spread out in front of him. He’d been studying it longer than she had, and showed no signs of stopping.
Frostbite had not only been delighted to teach Danny medicine, but he’d taken it so seriously that apparently, her older brother had involuntarily signed up for basically ghost college.
Ellie felt a thrill at being able to share the experience with him.
She knew it had bugged him, to miss out on going to college at the same time as his friends.
But!
She was now going to college at the same time as Danny! So it was up to her and whoever she chose to share the college experience with him!
She’d drag Danny to all the keggers! She just…had to find them first. The one’s without drugs, or the ending with a shoot-out thing.
“Ellie,” Danny interrupted her thoughts, and she realized she’d been staring directly into his eyes for a bit, “How about we take a break? I found a recipe for those cranberry-almond bread crisps things you like from Costco.”
Ellie felt her jaw drop.
There was a recipe for that?
Before she could pull herself together enough to answer, Danny was already laughing and standing up.
“It’s the first batch I’ve ever made, but you seem to like them enough to tell me if I did it wrong.”
Ellie quite literally tripped over her own feet following him to the kitchen, only to stare reverently at the tupperware he presented to her.
Then she dug in, of course, because her job was to taste test and she took that job very seriously.
The score was: perfect.
They weren’t exactly the same, but they were homemade, which made them better automatically.
Ellie sat on the counter and enjoyed her snack as Danny puttered around the kitchen, making actual lunch.
His big brother instincts hit hard when they hit, and it looked like Ellie was going to have some leftovers going home with her. Danny tended to…overcompensate.
Which was stupid, because his ages didn’t change him being her bro.
“…You know you’re my brother no matter what, right?” Ellie asked between mouthfuls of baked goods, “Like, I don’t care what age you are or what form you’re in; you’re my brother.”
Danny slowed down.
Then he started for the flour.
Ah, fuck. He was going to bake away his feelings again.
“Danny wait, please, I only have so much room in my pantry and fridge-“
~~~~~~
Alfred paused in front of the hallway mirror.
Mask firmly in place? Check. Amulet against scrying? Check. Special jacket meant to act as a talisman against offensive magic? Check.
He was as ready as he would ever be to enter the same room as the Justice League Dark.
The butler pushed the trolley into the elevator and began his descent.
He had to admit to himself, he was…curious. Normally, Master Bruce did not allow the Justice League Dark into the Cave.
It wasn’t his place, he knew that, but something quite serious must have happened for them to be allowed so close to Master Bruce’s home.
In fact, his employer hadn’t even had time to specify if it was the entire Justice League Dark or just a few people from it. Master Bruce had just dropped everything-quite literally-and made for the Cave.
The elevator made a soft chime as it reached it’s destination, and the door opened.
Alfred pushed out the trolley, completely silent.
It was meant for the cave; cushioned wheels, rubber padding to absorb the little bumps.
Which meant that Constantine had absolutely no idea Alfred was standing behind him, waiting for him to stop talking so he could offer refreshments.
“Bats, you don’t bloody understand; our entire dimension was nearly wiped out!”
“I would love to understand. You won’t explain. A text message saying the world was about to end was not explaining, it was fear-mongering. This entire conversation could have been an email.”
Constantine threw his hands up.
“Phantom was holdin’ the Infinite Realms back! An entire dimension, Batman! It’s denizens are built for combat, and if Phantom decides to turn from small-time villain theft to Actual World Ending events, that’s it! End game! Is that email material for you?”
Master Bruce grunted.
“Five years ago, mate, five bleedin’ years ago your government nearly buggered all of us. So yeah, alright, allow me to explain; how did this slip by you? You? The great Detective?”
“We were unaware-“
“Mate I cannot begin to explain how little that matters to spirits and demons strong enough to be gods.”
“Constantine, we are taking measures to ensure this does not happen again.”
“We need to do more than that, Bats; I’m sayin’ we need to…to do something to get their trust! Get on Phantom’s good side, turn ‘em to the side of good, whatever it-“
“Phantom is on the Justice League Roster, Constantine. He’s on the list of potential allies in emergencies, and we have already established a good relationship with him. He’s not actually a villain, he’s a trainer for young heroes. You would know this if you kept up with that list.”
The ‘like you’re supposed to’ went unsaid.
Constantine opened his mouth. Closed it. Pulled out his phone and frantically pulled something up.
Dropped the phone.
Stood there staring at his own hand as he processed what he realized everyone had known but him.
Alfred took advantage of his distraction to place a cup of tea into the man’s hand.
“Perhaps you should sit down, sir,” the Butler suggested.
Constantine drank the entire cup of tea in one go and sat on the floor.
~~~~~~
Dan crossed his arms and stood his ground, careful to keep his face blank as he stared at Danny.
“You know you can’t do this in human form,” Dan sighed, “So the costume needs to be for the ghost one.”
“I think I can do great in human form-“
“It’s not healthy to keep your other state of being locked away, Runt. Plus, it’ll make it a hell of a lot harder to pinpoint who you are.”
“…I don’t want to.”
Dan felt steam hiss out of his nostrils, and tried to reign in his temper.
Ellie stepped in while he calmed down.
“C’mon, Danny! Please? Please, please, please? It’s super cute c’mon!”
Danny’s face turned red as he tried to deny that, covering his face as he sank down on the couch.
Dan carefully did not mention that Ellie was…kinda right. Dan was possibly biased due to fucked up ghost instinct, though.
“Danny,” Dan said quietly, “Robin was thirteen when I squared off against him, and he was really the only threat out of all those kid heroes. It’s fine; no one will bat an eye.”
This was important. The little Twerp would get more to feed his obsession if he was in ghost form while he did it, and it would give him time to actually be in his other form.
Both things he’d been trying to avoid.
But Dan was, as usual, willing to be the Bad Guy for Little Him.
Danny’s face grew redder.
The kid sighed.
A flash of light filled the room.
And a twelve year old looking ghost kid in a hospital shift sat in his place. The prosthetic, meant for an adult man, flopped to the side, unable to stay on the leg far too small for it.
Ellie made a soft, cooing trill and started patting at his hair.
Dan bravely held his own chirp in.
Danny, for his part, glared at his hands.
“Alright kid, let’s get you suited up,” Dan said after composing himself, instinct screaming at him to coddle the Twerp.
He wouldn’t do that, naturally.
It wasn’t like Danny was actually his kid, and neither of them would know how to recover from a lapse like that.
He turned away from the pouting kid on the cough and went into said kids bedroom instead, finding the prosthetic for his ghost form hidden in the back of his closet.
Dan frowned.
Hidden away like it was, that shit was indicating Little him hadn’t even tried to transform since he’d gotten to Gotham.
That…was so unhealthy. It was probably going to set back his recovery if he kept it up.
He’d have to ask Red Hood to keep tabs on how often the new Medic-hero went out, so he’d be able to chart how often he was transforming.
He knew the kid had issues with…well, all of it. His time as a core had reversed his age, and he’d only stopped regressing a year after Dan had left him with Frostbite. As far as Danny knew, he’d fallen unconscious a sixteen year old and woken up as a ten year old.
His mortal body had continued to age, chained by the constraints of the Timeline. So when he did transform, he was going from one form to a drastically different one.
Dan knew that the changes were probably extremely uncomfortable.
Dan also knew that he’d pushed far enough that night, convincing Tiny to transform against his will.
So he opted to say nothing about it to Danny, instead focusing on attaching the tiny prosthetic to the tiny leg.
“Decided to go apocalyptic style,” Dan hummed, testing the edges to ensure it was aligned properly, “Modified gas mask, only on the lower face, goggles optional, basic kevlar, medical satchel from the Far Frozen, all black, no identifiers.”
“Yeah, about that; are you sure you don’t wanna put like, a red cross or something?” Ellie cut in, her patting stopping as she leaned over their tiniest sibling.
Danny shook his head, a pout that Dan pretended not to notice on his face.
“No; identifiers work both ways, villains would be more likely to target me.”
“Smart; keep them off your back long enough to move people out of the way. And what’s the plan if you get dragged into a fight?” Dan asked mildly, leaning back and looking up into a face that was far too young.
“End it.” Danny’s face was far too young to look that serious and dead-eyed, and Dan’s core lurched at letting a weak and injured ghostling free to enter into fights already.
“Not in a way that’ll hurt you, though,” Ellie sang as she danced towards the kitchen to raid Danny’s fridge.
The serious look faded, and Dan’s core eased a little.
“Don’t worry, I’ll dip as soon as I can.”
Dan nodded and stood up, reaching down to help the kid up.
“Well, get the fuck out of your own house then. Time to get to work.”
Danny gave him a shit-eating grin and tugged the gas mask into place, already fading from view.
~~~~~~
Danny floated down the streets of Crime Alley, not even bothering to hide himself with invisibility.
He’d already performed triage on bystanders in a gang fight, set a muggers broken leg and ensured he knew the physical therapy he’d need to prevent it from becoming a chronic issue, and had gone over pretty much every homeless kid checking for lice or sickness, and treating it as he saw signs of either.
He was loathe to admit it, but Dan had been right. Doing acts of ‘protection’ while in ghost form fed his core far more than doing it in human form.
It was just.
He just.
His hands were too small.
His voice was too high.
He was too vulnerable.
The shadows were too big, too dark, and he hated it when they turned off the lights, he could never see what they’d done to him this time-
“Hey, new supes-you’s a medic, right?”
Danny blinked, and he was standing on a sidewalk in Crime Alley while a concerned Prostitute stared down at him.
He shook himself.
“Yea, do you need treatment?” Danny winced a bit as his voice cracked, and he clutched at his bag a little tighter.
Her eyes bored into his own as she searched for something, before her expression got softer.
“Me’n some of th’ girls were boutta turn in, but Joanne had some rough Johns t’night. Need some bones set and some stitches. You game?”
Danny tilted his head, assessing her.
She was not lying.
He allowed his body to deny gravity and floated up, nodding.
The woman led him to one of the better hotels in Crime Alley, and Danny caught a glimpse of a rather large man shouting at some other men.
From the pieces of conversation he could gather, that man was Joanne’s pimp, and he was ultra-pissed that she’d been hurt.
The woman in front of him gave a short whistle, and when the man’s head turned towards her she held a finger to her lips.
Her other hand made some sort of subtle gesture, but it wasn’t ASL and Danny had no idea what it could have meant.
It must have meant some variation of ‘calm down’, though, as the man stopped yelling, and even went so far as to keep a respectful distance from Danny as he was tugged past older man.
The yelling didn’t start up again until the door to the hotel closed behind him.
Then Danny was taken to Joanne, and…she could probably do with a hospital instead of some kid hero.
Multiple lacerations, visibly broken arm and fingers-it wasn’t pretty. But Danny had seen worse.
His right hand made an involuntary fist before he stretched out his fingers.
“She ain’t comf’table with hospitals,” Danny’s guide explained quietly, “If we don’ treat her here, she’ll jus’ treat it herself at home, an’ we all know that won’t end well.”
Danny let out a small breath through his nose and stepped forward.
“Hello, I’m just a medic, but what are you okay with me treating tonight?”
~~~~~~
There was a new hero in the Alley.
Well, sort of.
The kid was clearly a Meta of some sort, but he was only focused on medical treatment.
Jason was also pretty sure he wasn’t a Super.
He’d know that glowing white hair anywhere, and the kids blue-ish complexion and pointy ears?
Nah, this was clearly Phantom’s kid.
Shortstack was older than he’d thought he would be, but Jason wasn’t an ectobiology expert; he had no idea how Infinite Realms Beings worked.
But this one wasn’t Phantom, that much he was sure of.
He felt the temperature drop, just enough to be unnatural.
“Your kids doin’ good work.”
Phantom hummed in agreement, slowly filtering into the visible spectrum beside Jason.
“Why Gotham, though?”
Phantom tensed.
Jason waited.
He was patient like that.
“The kid’s…sick. He can’t fight like I can, not yet.”
Jason couldn’t help but feel relief at that admission, if he was being honest with himself.
“But he’s a protection spirit. He has to protect, or he’ll do the ghost equivalent of starve.”
“Okay, alright; so have him help people and protect them as something that wouldn’t draw too much negative attention.” Jason nodded, starting to see the full picture.
“Yeah, and Gotham’s got uh…good ghost juice. For ghosts. You wouldn’t really get it, it’s a ghost thing.”
Jason turned to face the intimidating War Machine of an anti-hero, only to find the man wearing a perfectly serious expression.
He’d really just let that abomination of words tumble out of his mouth with a completely straight face.
“Fine, I get what you’re really here for. We’ll watch out for him.”
“Bats might have an issue.”
“Fuck Batman, a medic is a good idea.”
“No, I was saying if he had an issue that you should point him to me.”
Jason let out a wordless hum, watching the tiny head of glowing white hair bobbing on the streets below them.
“You think you could win against the Bat?”
“In my previous world I not only won against him, but I murdered his friends and family. Yes, I can win against the Bat.” Phantom drawled, truth in every word he said.
Truth, and regret.
“Damn, threat received loud and clear. I’ll tell Batman where he can take his complaints, then.”
They tailed the kid for a bit, and Jason watched as Heather broke the kid out of a flashback on her way to Leslie's.
Heather, smart woman she was, recognized what was happening and did what Heather was prone to do; take immediate steps to help someone in need.
She distracted the kid.
Flashed the sign for ‘inside voices’ at Cody to make him shut up, and got the kid off the streets and away from those who would have taken advantage of Phantom’s protege’s lapse in concentration.
Phantom was a tense livewire next to him, energy shimmering at his fingertips.
“He started out in Crime Alley, Phantom, and we watch out for our own. He’ll be safer here than he would in Bristol.”
Phantom forced himself to nod, and with a deep, shaking breath the energy dissipated.
“…I guess I’ll just have to leave him to it, then.”
Jason watched the man turn away and leave stiffly, and found himself wishing Bruce had enough trust to do the same for his own children.
Then he shoved the thought from his mind and turned his attention back to the hotel; he had a toddler ghost to babysit.
#dpxdc#dcxdp#dp x dc#dc x dp#phanfic#in the shadow of speculation#finally wrote the next part#lmfao i did not realize how much time had passed fml#allusions to past torture#blood tw#broken bones tw#forced parenthood tw#description of a flashback#abled verbiage tw#self hatred tw#long post
182 notes
·
View notes
Text
unstoppable force (Adam’s canonical teacher kink) meets immovable object (Gansey being a professor’s soul in a teenagers body).
#meta#s speaks#adansey#adam parrish#richard gansey#trc#I’m sorry. but also Maggie wrote this so it’s on her I’m just calling a spade a spade#more insane when you think about their first meeting being Adam teaching Gansey about cars and Gansey teaching him about dead welsh kings#reciprocal informational exchanges defining their whole dynamic in that way … sapiosexual disaster bi bitches#it’s so funny to me that the greenmantle intro scene is def her way of establishing Adam as queer outside of his attraction to Ronan but w/#bringing Gansey into it and yet the description of greenmantle sounds like a combo of Ronan and Gansey#and the language to describe his attraction is a downplayed version of the monologue flashback of Gansey being like the sun…chile anyway.#him thinking Ronan is so attractive I wish I could imagine him as a young hot professor but that’s just not his vibe…#so I take it you’ve imagined Gansey as your history prof many a time okay.#the raven cycle
364 notes
·
View notes
Text
I Can't Lose You- Part 7
Warnings: Descriptions of Grief, PTSD Flashback, Intense Grief, Mentions of Miscarriage, Pissed off Lee Know, Anxiety, Panic, Everyone is hurting but you knew this... right?
Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader
Characters: Stray Kids, Reader, Nurse, Soo?
A/N: Okay her we are with part 7 the song that I linked is what I had on repeat for part 6 &7 for the most part... I am so sorry and as always I'll be around for therapy after. If you really wanna cry, listen to what I listened to while writing this about 98% of the time, Can You Hold Me by NF and Britt Nicole.
I Can't Lose you Masterlist-CLICK HERE
Stray Kids Masterlist-CLICK HERE
ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE.
ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.
BEFORE:
His body went into overdrive, the shock melting into panic. He wasn’t going to let Death take you, “Han hurry up, she's slipping!” He screamed at the door. His scream didn’t sound like him. The sound akin to a bystander watching a loved one jump from a bridge. Watching the body disappear all because of one step. He couldn’t wouldn’t let you fall. He screamed as if he dove for your hand, the same hand that fits so perfectly in his, as you threatened to disappear over the ledge of that bridge.
Bin got closer to your ear, so you could hear him better, “Please don’t say that. I know it hurts, just stay with me, hold on. I’m here. Stay with me. You can’t leave me here, please.” Changbin tilted your head, so you could hear his heartbeat. Subconsciously thinking, If you go I go. He gently wrapped his arm across your breastbone, trying to provide some soothing pressure to your chest. His hand resting on your opposite arm, rubbing the meat of it in a soothing pattern. His other hand was petting your hair. The hold he had you in gave you someone to hold on to. As soon as his forearm rested you wrapped your hands around it, grabbing his hand as you dangled on the ledge.
“Binnie it hurts, pleaseee. Help me, it hurtss.” You sobbed, your voice cracking and breaking, a mirror of your soul. Bin continued to slowly rock you, “I know Angel, I know I want to take it away. Just hold on for me. Hold on to me.” He had no idea how he was able to be calm for you. A part of him knew that he needed to. He was not going to collapse so you could face all of this on your own. He refused. He needed to fight for you, and he would, for eternity if he had to.
NOW:
The boys were trying their hardest to be calm, but some just couldn’t handle it. I.N. and Felix being the two that were physically holding their heads, crouched in the fetal position, trying to cover their ears as they heard your screams in the hallway.
Hyunjin went over to them and picked them up, their forms curling into him as they cried. Hyunjin couldn’t pinpoint why your screams sounded so unhuman, subconsciously trying to find a way to help. Once reality set in he realized, none of them had ever heard the scream of a mother who lost their child… not until today. That made chills go up his spine as goosebumps riddled his skin. That was why it sounded so unhuman. His mother once told him, “Children are supposed to bury their parents, not the other way around.” He found himself repeating those words out loud as tears fell down his face. He never thought he’d understand those words, but now that he does, he was numb, numb with pain.
I.N.’s heart was breaking for you as he heard you calling out to no one, asking for the impossible. He was trying to be strong but hearing you in so much pain was too much. “I want to help her Hyung but I don’t know how.” That broke Hyunjin even more because he couldn’t do anything. No one could.
Hyunjin rubbed his back saying,“We can only be here for her, Innah. We need to be here, make sure she knows we aren’t going anywhere. That’s all we can do. I wish we could do more, but we can’t.”
Felix was crying because the only thing that could happen was him hearing the screams of a person that he loves, a best friend he considers as his sister, while he can’t do anything at all. The frustration combined with the sadness sliced through him.
Seungmin was the one member whom no one expected to cry yet there he was, crying. No one in the entire group knew he was one of the most hurt. His reactions to everything were visceral. If he wasn’t using the railing lining the hall, he was certain his legs would give out. He faced the wall sobbing, feeling the cold wall on his forehead. He didn’t care that he was in a hallway in a hospital full of nursing staff and strangers. He had been holding all of it in for weeks now…
It all started about two months ago. When Seungmin had come over to the 3Racha house, he noticed some things. He was making some lunch while he waited for the others to come back from the gym. The minute he opened the kimchi, you ran to vomit. That coupled with the fact that you looked like you were glowing raised his suspicion. When you came back to the kitchen he said, “When was the last time you took a pregnancy test?”
You cocked your head to the side quizzicaly as he giggled, “I’m 99.9% sure that you’re pregnant. Pee on a stick just to be sure but… Yeah, congrats. I’m going to throw away everything that smells like kimchi while you check.”
He was there for all of it. Everything from staring at the test with you waiting for the verdict. He spun you around congratulating you. He helped hide the evidence. Helped plan, he was even there when you got the ultrasound, filming it for Chan so he didn’t feel like he was left out. In many ways Seungmin had a better tie to that child than anyone else aside from you. He imagined everything with you.
Ever since he saw I.N. storm out to kill Chan… he checked out emotionally. He couldn’t handle the pain. He couldn’t ignore it anymore when he heard your screams. He thought of all the names you’d send him to see if they’d sound good. If it was a boy, you were incessant on Seungmin. You wanted to name the baby after him because he had “noticed first.” But he got you to change it to Chanseung, meaning “lingering victory”. This whole time...Every scream you let loose he heard the baby’s heartbeat as the memories flashed in and out of his mind.
He remembered the times when he would come over just to clear the kitchen of anything that’d trigger your gag reflex. His Hyungs would get pissed at him because they even labeled the items with "do not touch”, but somehow, mysteriously, Seungmin didn’t see it and ate it all… whoops. He even got up at whatever time you called to pick up whatever you were craving. Another was when you went out for a walk with him and you were telling him about all of the new things you were noticing about your body.
But his favorites were whenever you and himself would be alone in the kitchen or on the couch while everyone was distracted he’d look down at your belly, he would glance around and go to your ear just to say “They have no clue… That there’s 10 people in this house.” He’d do that just to see you try to suppress the smile on your face.
He even had dreams of going to the hospital to meet the baby. The dream always started with the phone call. Changbin would be on the other line as he picked up, “the baby’s coming, they’re already at the hospital, see you there.” Then the dream would jump to Chris walking out, “Congratulations everyone, you have a beautiful and healthy nephew. Once Y/N is cleaned up, you guys can come back to meet Chanseung.” In every single one of those dreams Seungmin would cry happy tears. When he’d be taken back, he was met with the cutest bundle, eyes like yours, a head full of curly hair like Chan’s. Chan would hand the baby to Seungmin and Changbin would say “what about me?” And you’d say, “godparents always hold the baby first.” Seungmin would look around shocked as more tears fell from his eyes, he would look at you and say “really? Me?” You’d look at him nodding with tears of your own, “How could it be anyone else, you took such good care of us, Minnie. You’d do anything for him. Your the one I trust the most with him.” He looked down to the baby and whispered “Hello Chanseung, I’ve been waiting for so long to meet you. My name's Seungmin, I’m your godfather.” He cuddled with the baby as he cried tears of joy, nothing but love and gratitude in his heart. Now that’s all they’ll ever be… Just dreams.
While everyone else was mourning as a friend, a brother, an Uncle, he mourned like a father. He felt like he lost a child. It destroyed him, ripping him apart inside, making him reflexively grab his chest, the air abundant but still suffocating, leaving him no other choice but for his chest to collapse inward as the sobs escaped.
Minho noticed that your screams didn’t sound human, closer to a wounded animal. Minho looked at Chan’s face as you screamed for your baby. He could see that Chan was sad, but it didn’t seem like he was truly grasping it. It was only when Chan’s phone lit up, that Minho’s patience snapped. He saw the name “Soo BFF Y/N” light up the screen, and before Chan could do anything about it, he snatched the phone. Minho grabbed Chris by the back of his neck, his nails digging into the meat of it. Minho spoke with a lethal air as he spat, “Waiting room… NOW.”
They ducked into the waiting room down the hall. The rest of the boys followed suit, locking the door to the room as Minho answered the call and said nothing.
“Hey Baby, you haven’t been picking up, is everything okay? What happened after I left?” Her voice rang through the waiting room.
Minho looked to Chris, and nodded to the phone, Chris responded, “No. Everything isn’t okay. Y/N was pregnant.”
There was a beat or two and she said, “Was?” Then she said, “As in not currently? I guess that is a good thing right? Considering you were going to divorce her for me anyway. A baby would’ve made it messy, no?”
Everyone’s jaws dropped. Some looking for confirmation, that they indeed heard what they did.
Chris looked at the phone like it had offended him his jaw slack, “what the fuck did you say to me?!” His face showed more emotion than hearing his wife’s soul being torn to shreds about losing the baby, “My child is dead and your response is ‘at least it’s less messy now?!’ How fucking heartless are you?” he asked.
Minho couldn’t believe what he was hearing and seeing out of Chris. He just heard his wife scream that she wants to die, that she wants to no longer exist because his child is dead. Yet the thing that gets him offended, have any reaction at all was his sidepiece saying something. Taking the first opportunity to skirt over how this all even happened. Minho wasn’t going to let him get away that easily, he spoke up, “You really are a fucking coward, huh, Chris? You won’t even tell her how all of this happened?”
Chris just bowed his head as Minho continued, “She miscarried from the shock and trauma of seeing you and her husband fucking right in front of her on their 3rd anniversary. YOU and Chris killed that child,” Minho seethed into the phone. “You want to hear what is happening to your so-called best friend? What you call, less messy?”
Minho took the phone off of the speaker and stormed down the hall. His heart was hammering in his chest, hearing of what she said playing in his head on repeat. His pain clouded his generous nature. For once, Minho doesn’t want to protect someone. He wanted Soo to feel the pain that you feel. He wants her to hear your screams. To hear your soul fracturing, hear the blood as it falls from the stab wound in your heart. That knife that no one can take out. That permanent piercing is now festering. The piercing that she and Chan personally put into one of the nicest people he’s ever met. He wants her to hurt. Just the thought of hearing Soo cry, made him smile. He wants her to suffer, truly suffer, just like he wants Chan to suffer. A part of him hates that this is what he wants but the rest of him knows, this is justified. A righteous anger. A human reaction. Which Soo cannot be.
Minho stopped outside of the room and held the phone out for Soo to hear your screams. He could somewhat hear Soo gasping at what was happening. Minho turned on the video to show her what little he could see from the door, which was your form rocking with Bin gently holding you, trying to calm you. “Hold on to me and breathe for me,” He heard Bin talking to you, trying to get you to fight.
“Binnie, please, my baby.” Minho heard your voice trembling, seeing you clutch on to Bin’s forearm. Your voice was worse than haunting, Minho could hear you trying to will your baby back.
“All you need to do is breathe and hold on to me. I’ve got you, I’m here.”
“I can’t Binnie I can’t I need my baby! Pleassee help me!” Your voice nearly gone from all of the screaming taking place.
It filled Minho with rage. The person on the phone caused this, along with your husband. Here Bin was, trying to will you to stay, to hold on to him, not anyone else. That made Minho feel better, if anyone could put you back together, make you want to stay, it’s Bin.
After being there for a minute or two Han barreled by him, all Minho did was flash the phone at him and point to the waiting room and Han nodded. He was telling him that when he was done making sure you were okay, for him to come to the room they were currently occupying with no words.
The minute Minho went back to the waiting room, he turned the speaker on to hear Soo. There was no response, only fast breathing and sniffling.
Minho tried to be quiet as he said, “Did that sound clean to you, Soo? Did that look less messy? She almost died last night, almost bled out from a hemorrhage that you both caused. She just screamed that she just wanted to die already. So tell me, what part about any of this screams a clean break?!”
Soo was silent for a moment and she said, “I never meant to hurt her, Minho.”
Minho’s blood boiled as he said, “People don’t get into cars with the goal of causing an accident and killing someone, but it happens all the same. I am so happy that you called, actually. I wanted to say this to your face but this’ll have to do. I couldn’t do this last night because I’m a decent person who was worried about one of my best friends... But now that she is being helped I can tell you. You are a sad excuse of a human being, I truly mean that. It takes a certain level of desperation to take your best friend’s sloppy seconds. Even more desperate to actually believe that he’d leave Y/N for your sorry waste of an existence. ”
Chan prickled at that, cocking his head, “As a matter of fact, the sloppy seconds is glaring at me while I say this and I don’t fucking care, as soon as I am done with you on the phone I’ll deal with him. You both destroyed someone very close to my heart. A person who has done nothing to either of you and yet you do this.”
Han walks in as Minho is grilling Soo, he whispers something to Felix and Felix goes out of the room. Minho continued, “As if what you did wasn’t enough you have the audacity to say that it was a good thing that Y/N miscarried because it would make the divorce less messy.”
Han’s eyes bulged out of his head at hearing that. No wonder why Minho wanted him here. Han felt rage at those words. Calling the death of a child that was wanted, a good thing? Minho’s lip was tight as he calmly finished his say, “I hope you know what you’re wishing for when you say you want him to yourself. If he did this to his own wife, imagine what he’d do to you… A nothing, a speck compared to Y/N. I hope you can live with yourself, but at least you’re breathing, something Y/N’s child never even got to experience because of you and Chris. I hope you rot and I hope it’s painful. Above all else, I hope that you pay in full for what you’ve done.”
Minho looked around, “Anyone want to talk to IT?” he punctuated “it” as he stared at Chris, daring him to say something. Everyone was silent and he said, “I would say it’s been a pleasure speaking to you, but that would be a lie; the only pleasure I’ll ever have is seeing you suffer.” With that, he hung up and walked to Chan, shoving the phone into his chest.
Minho stared at Chan, “Now it’s your turn… What are you doing here? Were we not clear enough for you?! What part of ‘stay away’ did you not get? Or are you that fucking stupid. She was making progress, she was sleeping and you had to come in, didn’t you.” His eyes burned into Chris.
“I just wanted to see her.” Chris said.
Minho got tunnel vision as he bore into Chan,“I… I … I.. That is all that exists for you, huh? It’s all about you. What you want, when you want, who you want, where you want. YOU wanted to see her, you didn’t even think about her wellbeing did you?! Of course you didn’t! That’s why you came in here and played the husband card over and over again. You are nothing to her. NOTHING! It baffles me how Changbin isn’t even married to her yet he’s a better husband than you will ever be!” Minho’s body betrayed him as he started to shake, “YOU DIDN’T JUST KILL YOUR CHILD… YOU KILLED WHO WE THOUGHT YOU WERE. YOU KILLED EACH ONE OF US! MOST OF ALL YOU KILLED Y/N. THE FUN LOVING, HOPEFUL Y/N IS DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU! That alone is something I will never forgive you for.”
“I’m going to give you one chance to walk out of here willingly. If you don’t, I will tell the boys to go back to the room. Then I am going to lock you in here with me, and believe me when I say you won’t like what happens next. When I’m done with you, I’ll go right back to Y/N and act like nothing happened.”
His tone was too calm, too monotone, the sound sending chills down Han’s spine.
The pain that Minho is in is something that he never shows anyone. He doesn’t like to be vulnerable. He couldn’t help but look at Chris’ wedding ring and think that he should’ve done something, anything to stop him from marrying you. He told himself that it wasn’t his relationship. He even asked Changbin if he was actually going to let this happen. Changbin just looked at him and said, “Does it kill me? Yes. Do I want to be the groom instead of the groomsman? Absolutely. But she’s happy. What I want is nothing compared to seeing her happy.” Just that singular memory gave him enough fuel to do what he had to do. He made a promise to himself in that moment, he will never let Chris close enough to be able to hurt you again.
Chris didn’t make a move, Minho could see that he was shocked. Which only fueled his rage.
Han had to cut in, “Minho… she’s asking for you.” Minho's heart twisted again as he loomed over Chris.
Minho sucked his teeth, “Even after nearly killing her, killing her child, ruining her life… Even now she’s still saving you without even knowing it. You have your chance, if I were you, I’d take it.” Minho stormed out of the room.
With that, Han looked at the rest of the boys, “Make sure he leaves, he’s already banned from the room. You are all welcome to come back up since it was clear who caused her to spiral. She wants you all as well. She’s scared we’re worried or that we’ll leave her.”
Hyunjin looked at Han and said, “We’ll be there. Go to her.”
As soon as Han left the room he saw Minho duck into your room.
When Minho came in he heard you saying, “Where’s MinMin? I don’t know what happened, m’scared Binnie, where's MinMin and Hannie? Lixie did they leave me?” Minho knew that whenever you were scared, you started using pet names. They felt safe to you. With your MinMin, Binnie, Lixie, and Hannie around, you'd be safe. Your voice is low and quivering, fear and panic clear. It's ripping him apart, reminding him almost of a child. A child trying to not let on how scared they are. You were a lot like a child in that way, you were so hurt you didn’t know who to trust, but the minute you see people you are sure won’t hurt you, you start asking for the others, knowing you can trust them to say the truth. You also reminded Minho of someone trying to cry silently, the quake in your voice giving you away.
From Minho’s view, all that could be seen is Changbin, grabbing his sweatshirt and putting it on, hood up. It was your favorite hoodie that Binnie wears, full of different stitches and felt like a cloud. He made fleeting eye contact with Minho. Just in those few seconds he could see Bin’s eyes trying to focus on not collapsing, yet trying to get Minho to understand. Minho could only imagine that what happened minutes ago was something that he had seen last night. Since Bin knew to call out to Han to get the nurses. It made his heart twist yet again, he knows that Bin isn’t used to caring for people. But you aren’t just people. You are more than that, you always have been more than that. That’s why it’s second nature to him.
“Binnie I’m scared what happened, where are my boys? Did I do something wrong, did I scare them? Will you leave too?” You asked through sniffles. Minho could see the effect those words had on Bin as he pulled the hoodie back, he spared one last gaze and flitted it towards the bed as if to say, watch me. If you can’t do what I’m about to do, don’t come in. Then he changed his face completely before turning to you and walking out of Minho’s field of vision. That killed Minho too. How Bin knew instinctually to change his face, his gaze softening.
“What happened isn’t something you need to worry about. You didn’t do anything wrong and the boys aren’t scared. I’m not going anywhere, see I was just putting my hoodie on, its your favorite. You don’t need to be afraid. I’m here. So is Lixie.” Bin’s voice was soothing, calm, steady, eventhough Minho identified the cracks in his foundation with only two seconds looking into his eyes.
Felix added as he tried to calm you saying, “We aren’t going anywhere okay? We are just making sure you’re going to be comfortable. MinMin’s coming and so is Hannie, Okay?”
Minho put on a smile, “I’m here”, hiding his pain for now. Your eyes were darting as you looked at him. Tearstains still painting your cheeks, fresh ones about to fall. You looked so dazed and confused as you looked around the room like you haven't been in it before.
You smiled at Minho, “MinMin…” more tears fell as you gaze fell on Minho’s eyes, “You didn’t leave? Binnie, Lixie, and Hannie said so but… m’scared… I don’t remember what happened,”
Minho wanted to curl you into a ball and shelter you, make sure no one could sneak up on you, that Chris couldn’t get his hands on you again, spew more poison all over this healing space, your personal space. He wanted to tuck you in and stand watch, everything in him drove him to shield and protect you. He couldn’t show that though. He couldn’t call attention to what just happened. It could upset the balance that you are in. Instead he decided on another approach.
“Binnie was right, Beautiful. What happened isn’t important right now. What matters is that we are here with you, we’re going to keep you safe, okay?” Minho reached out and dried your tears with the sleeve of his shirt.
The nurse was just finishing giving you medicine, “What’d they give you? Something good?” Minho smiled warmly. He looked to the nurse who said, “Yes, she’ll be able to sleep no doubt. We’re also giving her medicine every six hours for the anxiety,” she smiled. That made Minho smile wide. He couldn’t help but be relieved for you. You are finally getting the medicine you need.
Minho looked at her and said, “Thank you so much, for taking care of her and coming so quickly.”
She just nodded and turned the lights off.
You yawned and started tearing up a little as you reached for Bin, “Don’t leave, Binnie…Lixie.” Felix was right at your hand as he said, “M’right here, it’s going to be okay. MinMin, Bin, all of us are here to make sure you’ll be okay.” Felix could see your shoulders slowly drooping as the medicine hit you. It was clear that the medicine was making you sleepy. That made everyone smile. You have had nothing but panic, havoc, and destruction. You deserved rest.
You looked at Minho and said, “I’m tired but I want my boys. You’ll wake me when they come back MinMin?”
Minho nodded and said, “Of course, Beautiful.”
You nodded then looked to Bin, “Binnie, I’m tired, if I sleep you’ll stay with me? I don’t want to ask too much, but can I have cuddles while I sleep?” Everyone in the room could tell that you were looking for constant reassurance. You just got out of a bad PTSD flashback, triggered by the man that caused the trauma, all on top of getting no sleep. Han walked in after making sure that Chris couldn’t make it back into the room, only walking in after he was sure Chris was in the elevator and clear of the area.
When Changbin heard you calling out to him, saying you’re scared he just wanted to hold and protect you. He successfully coaxed you out of the flashback. His whole being broke when you came out of it so disoriented. The first things you asked Bin was, “Why did he do that? Why did they do that I don’t know why? What happened?” Then immediately after, “I’m scared.” He didn’t know what to say to that first half. It’s inconceivable how anyone could cheat on anyone, especially someone like you. Trying to answer that question would only prove to be more frustrating for you than anything. Apparently the shock was written on Bin’s face as the nurse explained.
The nurses gently talked to Bin about what he was seeing, he’s never seen you like this and they explained that when someone comes out of a flashback episode, they are very confused. Sometimes they don’t know where they are or what happened. He learned that it was necessary to be very calm in repeating yourself, and ensuring the person coming out of it that everything is going to be okay and that they are safe. The nurse that was in the room with you was the one who coached Bin through the worse of it. He just had to keep pushing, to make you feel safe.
He himself was also on the brink of collapse. The wall he made in his mind, to hold all the emotions inside around you, started failing long ago. More rubble falling by the minute.
Bin was trying to be as strong as he could be as he got into the bed with you, pulling you to him, and petting your hair back, “Of course we can cuddle. I am not going anywhere okay? I wouldn’t dream of it. Just take deep breaths. Let the medicine work, Angel.” He looked at you, so small, sweaty, tired, fragile. Felix immediately started tucking you in. Taking time to ensure sealing all of the edges of your body to stay nice and warm. Then he moved your hand to cuddle Bin, knowing that you’d want it there. He resumed his place at your back, he re-tied your gown that was coming loose, then slowly rubbing circles on your back, trying to soothe you. Bin tried to figure out how Chris could hurt someone so precious to him, to all of them. He couldn’t wrap his brain around it. Like that, more bricks fell from the wall.
“M’safe?” You asked Bin, eyes still brimming with unshed tears as you looked up at him. As soon as they were knocked free he used his thumb to wipe them away.
With me…“Always. No one is going to hurt you.” Not while I’m here. He brushed your cheekbone, you head leaning into his touch reflexively. More of the wall crashed to the ground. He gently guided your head down to his chest.
Even though you were being forcibly calmed by the medicine, he could see it. Your eyebrows were tense, still a quiver in your lip. The worst was the shaking. As he held you he could feel the tremble in your entire body. Your hands shook as you held on to his hoodie, rubbing the pattern to calm yourself.
After a few minutes passed, the boys went to come back in, but Han stopped them, just to explain to them what happened. He also gave them the rundown of how to talk to you and redirect and reassure you, that way you can rest.
“She doesn’t look like herself right now, that’s because she is still in a very fragile mental state, she’s going to repeat herself, she’s going to say she’s scared, a lot of things that will make you want to break. You cannot break in front of her. That can make her worse. If you need I can guide you through it. Just stay close to me, okay?”All of the boys nodded and went in. Minho let you know.
“Minnie, you here?” You asked.
“Yes I am, Birdie.” Seungmin said as he walked into your field of vision getting down to your level, “Getting sleepy, Birdie?” You nodded as tears started to spring to your eyes.
Seungmin’s nickname for you is Birdie. When you started hanging out with him more, he noticed something. Whenever you had a song stuck in your head, you would sing it on repeat. Your voice was always very soft, shy, melodic. It reminded him of the morning birds, so one day he called you Birdie and you smiled ear to ear. No one heard him call you that until now, since Seungmin is more an observer than a talker.
“If I sleep, you won’t go anywhere? I’m scared you’ll leave and I won’t see you again.” your tears fell as you looked directly into Seungmin’s eyes.
Seungmin whispered, “Oh my sweet Birdie,” as he kissed your forehead trying not to cry, drying your tears immediately, “You don’t need to be scared, I’m not going anywhere without you. You will always have me, okay? Right now all you need to do is rest, okay Birdie?”
You nodded then said, “Jinnie and Innie too? They’re here too?”
“Mhm, everyone’s here, Birdie.” Seungmin is doing his best to see you relax, lightly petting your hair, “So just close your eyes for me, let yourself rest, we’re here.” As if on command you slowly closed your eyes. What he doesn’t know is Innah is trying not to cry. Seeing the interaction cracking him open again.
Your breathing started calming and as Bin felt your body relax into him, your grip completely loosening. Seungmin didn’t stop petting your hair until he was sure you were out. Only then, did he go to IN’s side, where IN’s tears soaked into his shirt.
Bin played with your hand for a few seconds, seeing how delicate they are as well as gauging how asleep you are. Seeing no reaction from you he draped his hand over yours as he heard a ghost of mere minutes ago, ‘Please just let me die. Let me go.’ The wall collapsed and he started crying. Trying not to shake you at all as he kissed the crown of your head.
“No one’s going to hurt you, I promise. I got you. You’re going to be okay. You have to be.” Bin didn’t care who saw him. He felt so helpless, his soul is breaking for you as he cradled you. He can’t help but think that it’s all his fault. How could it not be? He didn’t follow his gut, he didn’t make the move, and now you’re suffering because of it. He kissed your hairline as he did his best to stop the pain in his chest, worried that you’d hear his heart breaking.
Minho watched as tears fell down his face. Seeing you like this and Bin, the one who gave up his own happiness… Handed his heart over to another man, only to see his heart used and abused. He could feel the pain radiating off of Bin. Minho heard a sniffle and looked to Seungmin. Seungmin always had a placid smile to his face, all Minho found was a quivering lip, tears falling, as he watched Bin.
Seungmin was seeing how perfect you are together, like he always saw, and seeing how broken you both are, yet you are both so strong together. That made Seungmin cry. Even though both of you are in agony right now, torn to shreds, you still clung to eachother, making a silent pact to make it together.
“You can’t leave me here…” He leaned back to see you. Another specter paid a visit, ‘Binnie it hurts. Help me pleaseee’. He felt his chest caving in at the memory. He willed himself to breathe normally, each pull of air burning his lungs, the muscles wanting to constrict. He cradled your head, trying to keep you as close to his heart as possible, “I need you, My Angel.” Bin felt Felix’s hand wrap around his shoulders, much like Bin would do for Lix when he cried.
Bin couldn’t imagine a world without you in it. A life without you. He knows the pain alone would kill him, kill all the boys. Your love, friendship, and loyalty is second to none. You are just that way. That beautiful, that kind, that irreplaceable. That is what makes Bin distraught, the thought of no you in the world… even finishing that sentence is unimaginable.
Han looked up at Bin, trying to will himself not to cry. The both of you are so sweet, so kind. He could see the weight on Bin’s shoulders, crushing him. He could see it in his head, Bin keeping everything bad from crashing on top of you, his arms outstretched, using his whole body as a shield. Han knew that if it meant keeping you safe, Bin would carry the world. That’s what separated Bin from Chris.
Both may be fond of you. Only one has ever put your safety over everything. Only one ever made you feel heard and seen. Only one ever made you laugh until you cried. Only one would take off work to take care of you when you’re sick. Only one made you understand that there is no priority above you. Only one would calm you with just a touch. Only one truly loves you with their heart and soul. That “only one” was in the bed with you right now.
Han watched, eventually just letting the tears fall as Bin held you saying, “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you, I’m sorry. I love you… I’m so sorry. Don’t leave me.”
That was the first time Changbin had ever let himself say it out loud, “I love you so much it hurts…I Can’t Lose You.”
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Want more? TELL ME SO!
Want in on the tags? Shoot an Ask and consider it done!
THE CHAOS EXPRESS🚂❤️❤️
@Fuckthinking, @feybin , @1-800-shedevil , @channiesbakery, @channieswhore , @hwangswhore , @seungminhour , @skzms, @angstraykids, @roseykat , @seventeenytiny , @dreaming-medium , @thunderous-wolf , @hanjsquokka , @moonjxsung , @diddybok , @fics-lovebot, @seungminssangel, @straykeedz, @tasteracha, @ven-fic-recs , @euphoric-univers, @camilagonzalex, @juskz, @antoniorhinothethird, @mariteez, @armystay89, @i-like-nougat, @yeonjunsfox , @laylasbunbunny ,@uwuitsjungwoo , @3racha-soup , @bandolls , @bomi-ja , @skzfairyyyf8te , @3rachababygirl , @symptoms-of-moonlight , @hiddlestandom , @stay-fr0sty-r0yal-milk-tea , @8rach4, @bear8585 , @tenshimara , @galamxy, @fairlylilo , @skzms , @lolareadsimagines , @lillithathecat , @manuosorioh , @jazziwritesthings , @soulsbbg , @tuskaruska , @emmxxsworld , @maaatyroshka , @orchid-mantis-petals ,
#i can't lose you#Descriptions of Grief#PTSD Flashback#Mentions of Miscarriage#Pissed off Lee Know#Anxiety#Panic#Everyone is hurting but you knew this... right?#Seungmin Breaking Down.#stray kids x reader#stray kids imagines#stray kids#stray kids angst#changbin x reader#seo changbin#bangchan x reader#bang chan imagines#bangchan#bang chan x reader#bang chan#bang chris#Another one that hurts#skz angst#skz imagines#skz x reader#skz x you#sketchbook#skz fake texts#han x reader#han jisung
242 notes
·
View notes
Text
redid this old piece bc i wanted the whole squad to be having a good time hehe
#art#kirby#kirby return to dreamland#rtdl deluxe#illustration#also i tried adding an image description!#i wasn't sure how literal to be about it? i kinda wrote it like im just chatting with a friend#i hope that works#i kinda redid this with the intention of making it into a print#but i worked in RGB originally and oh god the cmyk#it looks like someone having a flashback about happier days after losing it all#wink wink ig
636 notes
·
View notes
Text
sebastian vettel running late, as usual, during pre-season testing, barcelona, spain - february 20, 2019
📷 jordi boixareu / alamy
#sebastian vettel#f1#formula 1#flashback fic ref#flashback fic ref 2019#not a race#2019 not a race#pre-season#pre-season 2019#testing#testing 2019#barcelona#barcelona 2019#spain#(note to self: original alamy description said he's running from fans and the media)
45 notes
·
View notes
Text
*sits up in the middle of the night* in this next universe where vampires seem to have taken over the world, marceline probably either never met simon or he died soon after they met, which means that since her mom also died when she was really young (too young to remember a lot about her i bet), she most likely raised herself completely alone through the apocalypse and never really learned about Morals which is how after getting bitten she joined the vampires and, became evil i guess. we see that even with simons good influence in her formative years she went through a rough path after getting bitten so it would make sense that shed turn out nasty if it wasnt for him. she is part demon. we just saw an universe where simon lost marcy and was fucked up and now we're gonna see one where marcy lost simon and became fucked up
#thinking about the flashback in the ep simon petrikov where hes like#''youd be fine if you didnt meet me better even. as for me...''#itd be so so cool if the show showed us that actually she Wouldnt be fine. they both needed each other to keep their sanity and morals#during the apocalypse#like itd be neat#this isnt me saying marceline is naturally an evil person shes literally my favorite character im just saying that like#if ur a child in a post apocalyptic landscape that didnt have anyone to teach you what morals are#aside from ur mom who died when u were like 5#youd probably turn out a bit fucked up too. like look at bonnie lol#im jusy using ''evil'' as a descriptive bc its easier and also we havebt actually seen this marcy so i cant speak much on her personality#but at characters arent usually that 2d#also we literally see simon being the one to teach marceline morals. Vandalism Is Wrong Marcy#and we see her having demon instincts- the wazzup dog in obsidian#i always thought that demon and vampire prolly didnt mix up well and she had to work a Lot to get to the level of stability and ethics that#she is now#so im excited to see a world where she had no reason to work on that skfhsjfhejfhejf#ok im rambling. its 3am and i have to be up in 2 hours help me#adventure time#fionna and cake#watch me be completely wrong when the ep comes out#but thats just a theory... a cartoon theory
50 notes
·
View notes
Text
fleabag "this is a love story" voice: this is about suicide
youtube
#really happy with this one i think its one of my best#for theme anyway#its still a bit sloppy in places but my laptop is lagging too much now to do anything abt it#really happy wiht the ending tho whoever i need to thank for those shots matching up THAT perfectly THANK YOU#if it was just coincidence i'll thank the universe#all the text is from the scripts#with a little creative licence perhaps#'defiant and bleak' is a description of yaz in the flashback scene in 12x7 and i think thats beautiful#matches so nice with the imagery of idk what the word is in english the blue lights and the sirens#thats really nice#anyway hope you like it
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
Don't Shoot the Messenger: Part Five
Despite how it might seem, being a messenger for the feared sea-demon pirate, Admiral Satrasi, infamous far and wide for having an entire fleet of raiding vessels who answer to him alone, is a relatively safe job. After all, no one knowingly crosses the Admiral. However, it appears the most recent captain looking to join his fleet hasn’t gotten that bulletin yet.
Fantasy, pirates, male monster x female reader, male demon, M/F, Part 5 of 9
Story Status: COMPLETE
AO3: Don't Shoot the Messenger Chapter 5
[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] Part Five [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Eight] [Part Nine - NSFW]
You leave Wicklow with a map, drawn on scrap fabric and tucked into his pants. He didn’t wake up when the stablehand brought him to his room and he’s still out cold in the morning so you don’t bother trying.
You don’t want anyone else to find the map so you hope he can follow it despite the lack of explanation or labels.
At least for the last leg of the journey, you can just head directly for the cave and not worry about trying to find Wicklow. You weigh the decision of waiting until he wakes up and then going with him, but you’re worried you’ve already spent too much time away from Satrasi and that he needs to salt. Besides, once you give that to him, maybe you can go back for Wicklow.
When you get to the cave, it’s as silent as ever, but you aren’t. Due to a growing sense of urgency and some bad luck, you had to take the last leg of the journey alone on foot while lugging all the salt. As a result, you’re hot and sweaty and head directly for the pool because of your thirst more than anything. You fall to your knees and just stick your face into the water to drink.
By the time you’ve had enough to drink to satisfy you and for your breathing to level, you feel a spike of concern, because Satrasi still hasn’t surfaced.
“Satrasi?” you ask, your voice echoing in the otherwise silent cave.
The longer there’s no answer, the more your concern grows. Is he gone? Should you just heave one of the bags of salt into the pool? Would that make it undrinkable? Is it even worth bothering with if he’s gone or too far gone for it to do any good? Maybe he’s in one of those deeper parts of the cave and just can’t tell you’re here? But shouldn’t he be close by, awaiting your return?
In the end, you decide to open a bag, take as large a handful as you can, and then throw the salt as far out into the pool as you can. A chunk of it sticks together and makes a muted splash as it sinks deeper into the water, but the rest disperses over a wider area than you expect, the light illuminating the specks in the air until they hit the surface of the water and become indistinguishable.
You wait long enough to feel foolish, to feel that worry moving through you and start to think about what to do next, when movement catches your eye. You breathe out in relief as Satrasi’s head breaches the surface, but it's a momentary feeling.
His eyes are still red, but they don’t glow as far as you can tell, his skin looks rough and stretched, puffy and bloated. The tendrils of his hair stick out strangely, looking more false in some way than they did before.
He looks exhausted and desperate. That lessens though, when he spots you at the edge. Your heart picks up speed at the gratitude and hope in his eyes because of you. Faster than you expect given the state he seems to be in, he comes right up to the lip of the pool. “Little bite,” he says, his voice muffled and wet, like his tongue is swollen and he has to talk around it. “You came back.”
You tilt the opened bag towards him and he wastes no time in reaching out for a handful of salt. “Course I did. Got the salt and found some of your people.” One handful he pulls down into the water, no doubt towards that second mouth, and his other hand comes up to take some to shove into his more human mouth, though with those teeth there’s no mistaking it.
You eye the limp, fragile and nearly colorless fins that are on his forearms with dismay and concern, wondering if there’s anything other way to help. It's not until he’s taken at least half the first bag that he looks beyond you. “Where…?”
“Navigator Rietha wanted to get more crew and verify my story—found her in the port a few days ago. First Mate Wicklow I found yesterday, drunk practically under the table,” you can’t keep some of the disapproval to yourself. “Gave him the message, though I’m not sure how much he’ll remember.”
He blinks at you, seeming to truly focus on you for the first time since you returned. Maybe it's just wishful thinking that the salt could be helping so quickly, but some of the glow appears to leak back into his eyes. “You found both of those two?”
“Yes,” you reply, unsure in the face of his surprise but not wanting to show it. “Rietha at a tavern in the port. She had known it was taking you longer than expected to come back, but not that anything had happened to you because no one who’d gone with you had returned. Wicklow was in a tavern in Halletburg, having tracked you that far, but lost the trail once arriving.”
He stares at you, going longer without blinking than he should. Usually that would make you uncomfortable, but you feel trapped in his gaze, finding new flecks of black and gold amongst the red of his eyes. He leans closer, reaching out to catch your chin in his hand between his thumb and forefinger. His touch is wet and cold, his skin has more give though than you expect, for all the obvious strength in even those digits.
You wait, barely breathing, for him to say something, to wait for the verdict of his scrutiny.
“Impressive, little bite,” he murmurs, less wetly but lower; you can almost feel his voice like you do his breath against your lips. “Very impressive.”
He eases himself back slowly and you feel an inexplicable pang of loss at the distance. “I’d only hope you might find one, and even that had seemed like a long shot. I’ll not underestimate you again.”
Your eyes are still locked on his and you don’t want to look away, you don’t want to leave this bubble, this moment frozen in time outside of the rest of the world, where someone intelligent and powerful thinks you worthy of respect. Even your thoughts, usually so quick to knock you back down where you belong are silenced by the surety in his gaze, in his words. They feel like the truth, not just opinion, and you find you believe them.
And it doesn’t frighten you, it makes you eager—though for what, you’re not sure, only that it's tied to Satrasi, tied to the way he makes you feel, the way he finds value in you, the way he lets you be.
When he breaks eye contact around handful of salt, you feel the sting of disappointment even as the rest of your surroundings make themselves known once more. The rock underneath, digging into your knees, the breeze on the cooling sweat on the back of your neck, the exhaustion in your bones from traveling too far while carrying heavy things. You slump a little, taking stock of yourself and adjusting your position to a more comfortable one.
While you refill your waterskin and sip from that, Satrasi finishes off the first bag of salt. He seems to need a break, eyes flicking back over to you, drawing along your frame in a way that makes you want to fidget but also doesn’t want him to stop.
“Thank you,” he says, as intense as before, even if he’s a few feet away this time. You don’t know what to say, so you settle for a nod. Amusement seems to creep back into his eyes at your discomfort with his thanks, crowding out the exhaustion. “I’ll need to rest now, and consume the rest of this, but then if no one has come for me yet, I should have strength enough to go myself and return with your reward.”
“Right.” You nod, he’d said as much before you left on your quest. Some sort of demon magic, taxing, but would allow him to turn from a salt water being to a fresh water one. He needed the salt to give him strength enough for such a transformation and it was difficult—especially since he would have to transform back once he’d returned to the sea. “If you go on your own, perhaps it might be easiest if I went with you.” You shrug, only half kidding when you add, “Quickest way to ensure payment.”
He smirks, willing to go along with the veneer of selfishness to your justification although likely seeing through to your true motivation. That you simply want to go with him. “Of course.”
He reaches to pull one of the remaining bags of salt towards him with his arms. Your eyes widen when a thick dark black tentacle flows out of the water behind him to wrap around the other, drawing it behind him. You suppose that answers the question about how strangely his shadow and shape moved in the water.
“Until then,” he says as he sinks back under the water and out of sight.
You feel hollowed out with his presence gone and merely curl up for a nap, satisfied with a job well done and filled with anticipation for what is yet to come.
The next day, when you come back to the cave, it feels emptier than before. You find your crudely drawn map on how to get here under a rock where you usually sit to talk to Satrasi. You hope that means Wicklow managed to find his way here and not someone else—there’s certainly no sign of a struggle and only another sea demon could have gotten him out of the pool, if that. You feel bereft, even if this is potentially an ideal outcome.
You decide to try to get temporarily hired on at the inn as the easiest way to run into people from out of town. As luck would have it, after the first day of general chores, right as the innkeeper is thinking of sending you on your way, a group with plenty of coin comes into town. They’re demanding and intimidating enough that they could only be mercenaries and the innkeeper makes the decision to primarily have you serve them, not one of her own children. You understand her caution even as you resent being the sacrificial lamb.
You’re grateful when you figure out they’re here for a bounty—one for a demon pirate you quickly deduce is Satrasi. Now you keep your head down and try to draw as little attention so you can learn what they know, what they have at their disposal, so you can warn him.
It’s easy enough to skirt their notice at first, you’ve done yourself up younger as you always do in your hometown and they pay you little heed as you refill mugs and bring them food while they discuss their plans.
“I’ll set the spell up tonight and in the morning we’ll know of any demons in a two league radius. Tiny shithole like this, with jumpy folk just at the sight of us,” he jerks his head at the barkeep who freezes at the attention making him smirk, “no chance there are any demons around besides the ones we’re looking for. ‘Sides, demons always got people who’ll pay well for ‘em. We’ll move onto the next hole in the ground if he ain’t here.”
“That’s all well and good, but that’s not til this morning,” a woman whines, she’d look like a child if it wasn’t for the knives that decorated her entire body. “What are we supposed to do until then? We’re the most exciting thing here.”
One of the other men bats his eyelashes comically at her while you collect mugs and plates as quiet as you can to stay out of their mind. “You could always do one of us.”
She makes a face and throws a roll at him, which he catches and then takes a big bite out of, grinning. She scowls down at her stew. “Proving my point. Nothing else here worth anything.”
“It does seem to just be mice here, scurrying to stay out of our sight while still taking our coin,” an older woman says scowling as well. You hate the way she eyes her ax and shares a mean smirk with the other man. People this strong, used to roaming and fighting and taking what they want are nothing but trouble. “No respect, just fear. Makes me wanna give ‘em something to be afraid of.”
“Y’all are too used to the city, plenty of fun to be had in the countryside—you just gotta be better at finding it. Gotta sneak up on these wary folk. Ain’t that right, girl?” His hand flashes out quick as lightning to snag in your apron.
You freeze instantly, cursing yourself for not moving quicker, for not getting out once you heard about the spell.
“Really?” the one in blue says, eying you up and down, unimpressed. “Her? She’s still a child.”
“No, I don’t think so,” the woman in green replies and you feel as if she can see right through you. You hate how bare you feel under her gaze. Her gaze is cold and dismissive as she continues, “She’s at least legal. Nothing to her though—like as not to break if you try to play with her.”
“You’re all too harsh,” the man in charge, the one keeping you there says to them—still too cheerful by half. “What do you say, lass? I’m sure you’re itchin’ to show someone you’re all grown up.” His eyes drag down your body, lingering on your chest and ass. You hate him even though you try not to show it—that won’t get this type to let you go. He might sound compromising, but he ain’t—he wouldn’t have grabbed you if he was. “I promise no one from this backwater will give you as good a ride as I can.”
Some of the others laugh while you keep your eyes unfocused, not making eye contact with any of them.Your mind races as his fingers tighten in your apron, fisting in the material to keep you close by. It’s time to get out of here, eyes darting to the exits, to who might be in the way. Your fingers twitch to untie your apron springs and flee, but you know you’ll only get one chance and these are hunters.
You just need a…
The door to the inn bursts open, hitting the wall with a heavy thunk because that door is no light weight. Everyone turns to look, a few, yourself included, flinching at the sound, but your fingers are quick because you’ll not get a better distraction. Two quick flicks and all the mercenary is holding is the apron and you’ve moved to the edges of the room, on the other side of the fireplace where the fireplace irons are within easy reach.
Still you’d planned to go out the front door since it’s closer. There’s a greater chance someone could catch up to you if you have to weave through the kitchens. No one had actually come through the door yet so maybe once they came in, you can sneak out past them.
A shadow crosses in front of the door and a woman, backlit by the sun so you can’t make out her features, sticks her head in. “…sure this is the place, captain? Seems rather…” her eyes land on the innkeeper cowering by the bar and she grins, displaying sharp enough teeth you know she must have a demon ancestor. “…quaint.” There’s a threat to her words, as though by her very presence she plans to change that.
“Yer the one who wanted to nab beds afore we got down to business,” a man follows her in, exasperated. Finally your eyes adjust to the light as the pair blocks enough of it and they widen. They’re both clearly pirates—the smell of brine, the fit of their coats, the weathered skin and wind-tosseled hair. You narrow your eyes and then they widen as you identify Wicklow, no slur to his voice, eyes sharp and whole frame tense for a fight. He’s got on a smart black waist coat and blue overcoat—he nearly looks respectable. For the first time, you think you see what Satrasi might in him.
As if summoned by your thinking his name, another, bigger shadow appears and follows them in. “We’re already here,” a new voice grumbles, deep and rolling—like the bells of the church that ring loud enough you feel them in your bones. Without the wet, echo-y quality his voice had in the cave, Satrasi’s voice is so clear despite how low it is. “Just make it quick.”
The first thing you notice are his eyes. You hadn’t realized how used to them being half-closed and dim you’d gotten until you saw these. The vibrant red with pure black pupils are stunning when fully open and fully bright. His main two large eyes a little bigger than yours and then his second set, less than half the size of the first right next to them, are also wide open, both sets glowing in the shadows that fall on his face. They lead your eyes to the red scales, like large freckles except for the fact that they seem to glow too, scattered in clusters near those eyes and the other bare skin you can see.
Speaking of, gone is the sickly pallor his skin had had. Whereas before his skin was a solid dull gray, now his skin is a dark, rich blue which lightens on his underarms and the top of his exposed chest. He seems more solid in this moment than any other previously, more steady—healthy. You hadn’t realized how amorphous he had seemed in the water, although his hair tendrils seem to move more than a breeze would allow them to, given they are no longer in water. Their color improved as well. Only the tentacles on his back, that you know must be there for all you can’t see them, remain dark as ink and meld well with the shadows, leaving them as mysterious as before.
A vibrant red overcoat that complements the rest of his magnificent coloring has no sleeves which reveal the crisp white shirt underneath. The shirt sleeves only go down to his elbows so that the fins on his forearms are left visible. They look so much stronger compared to how limp and colorless they had seemed in your memory, their red and blue streaks bringing to your mind jewelry or tattoos—adornment. You briefly lament how covered his chest is, that maw must be closed, but are fairly confident the rest of him must be in similarly improved shape.
Your eyes travel down to his black breeches which startle you. Yes, he’d said he had legs and yet he had seemed so natural in the water and they seemed so invisible, it is still hard to see them, defined and held in tall black leather boots.
In addition to the physical, there’s Satrasi’s presence. Gone was the skulking predator, hovering just out of your reach, even as you knew you were in his. Now he stands before you, instantly in command of the room, immediately the biggest threat—smug in that knowledge as it sits comfortably on his shoulders. He looks around the room as if searching for anything that might disagree with that assessment and welcoming of the challenge such a creature might offer him. He rolls back his shoulders, almost restlessly, as if he can’t seem to understand why he might be in such a small space so obviously unable to contain him.
How obvious it is that those fools who captured him in the first place never would have been able to keep him caged for long.
He does narrow in on the closest thing to a threat this place has and a hungry grin, his teeth glinting silver and his tongue, black streaked with an almost glowing red, flicks against them. “Well now, looks as though we aren’t the only guests gracing this humble town.”
The mercenaries have frozen where they sit except to put hands on hilts. You see the leader’s eyes dart to the silver in Satrasi’s outfit—the silver braid that goes from his shoulder to his chest, a reference to his self-styled title of the Admiral—and then to his belt buckle which has the skull and tentacles that was his insignia.
He knows exactly who this is.
“Always interesting to meet others passing through the backcountry. What brings you to these parts?” He’s obviously trying to pretend Satrasi isn’t why he’s here, even if he doesn’t bother disguising that he has identified him.
Nothing in his demeanor gives him or any of his band away: they look like uninterested but on guard, as unrelated mercenaries would, but Satrasi is no fool. He smirks and then shrugs nonchalantly. “You know how it is, handling my end of a deal. You?”
“On our way to meet some lord in the port,” the mercenary replies smoothly. “High paying bounty. You know how it is,” he parrots with a bit of a sneer.
“Of course, none that I might know though, is it?”
“We only hunt on land, though I’m surprised to see your like so far from the sea.”
“Deals are deals,” Satrasi replies magnanimously, “wherever they take us.”
“I’ll drink to that,” one of the other mercenaries says.
“Care to join us?” one of the women offers with a wicked glint in her eye that might be flirty but mostly comes across as predatory to you. “I’m sure you’ll prove more interesting than the mudlappers here.”
The woman who came with Satrasi grins and spreads her hands. “Surely they’re not so bad. Small town folks are always so sweet to passers-through.”
“Unless they got cause not to be,” Wicklow says, his eyes flicking to the still frozen figure of the innkeeper, who is obviously fearful of yet more dangerous strangers than she’s prepared for, and the boy whose head leaps out of view by the kitchen door as soon as there’s notice on him.
“We’ve been nothing, but polite,” the mercenary leader lies as easy as he breathes.
“That true, little bite?” Your eyes flick to Satrasi’s face in surprise to find his locked on you. He smirks and you feel any lingering anxiety settle with him here. Of course he saw you and saw these folks for what they are. And he’s here to hold up his end of the deal.
Your trust in him solidifies into something strong and powerful at his look.
His eyes turn back to the lead mercenary, not bothering to watch you cross the floor to him—not pausing as you draw one of the fireplace irons from their stand just on instinct—skirting the mercenaries’ table with a wide berth to be by Satrasi’s side. “Because I’d bet a pretty penny on that being her apron in your hand.” He nods at the material the mercenary has clearly forgotten is in his hand.
“It is,” you say, speaking clearly to Satrasi alone because no one else here matters. His eyes drop down to you as you fit yourself comfortably next to him. You neck tilts up to look him in the eye. You’re so used to him being below you in the water and now he stands nearly a head taller than you. It makes you feel safer. “They were starting to push, but no, hadn’t done anything yet. You should know they’re here looking for you.”
His eyebrows raise in interest. He asks, his voice somehow even more darkly amused than you’ve ever heard it before, “Oh, are they?”
The thud of a mug hitting the table makes you twitch, but Satrasi doesn’t give any sign he heard anything, eyes still on you. “This fluffhead girl doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” the leading mercenary growls, obvious threat in his voice before you can see him lean back in his chair in the corner of your eyes. “Why would we be looking for you?” he asks, trying for casual but that facade is cracking. “Besides, you just got here and we’ve been here for more than a day.”
“Why are they looking for me?” Satrasi asks you, paying the man no mind, his smirk inviting you to be in on the joke they’re going for.
It’s warming, to be listened to, to be part of a group, to know he’ll believe you above others—you feel nearly drunk on the confidence it gives you. “A page did escape you and the forest demon. Governor offered them 100 gold for you alive, half if dead—each.”
“That’s up from last year,” Wicklow says, amused. “Getting frustrated it seems.”
“They have a spell map, finds demons in a two league radius they said—were about to set it and find you in the morn,” you continue to explain, ignoring the muttered curses from the mercenaries who are clearly giving up on their paper-thin ruse with how much they didn’t realize you heard.
“Well now, isn’t that interesting,” his eyes flick to the mercenaries, who are getting to their feet, “Seems I owe you even more than I thought. Why don’t you fetch the rest of my people from right outside so we take care of this annoyance and relieve them of their oh-so-intriguing map?”
That’s too much for the mercenaries, who are over their shock and pretense, and lunge for the pirates. You nod to Satrasi, sliding out of their way. You find Hayleth, the half-demon from the tavern in the port, leaning by some horses with three other pirates. “Fight broke out with some mercenaries looking for your captain,” you tell them. Even Hayleth, who hadn’t seemed to like or trust you previously is moving as the first few words leave your mouth without hesitation—or maybe he can just hear the sound of furniture being knocked about.
You feel full of energy, wanting to help with the fight but knowing you’d only get in the way. Instead you get down on one knee by the still open door to the inn, iron rod in hand. Sure enough, just as the fighting seems to be dying down, someone rushes out. After the split second it takes you to identify the lead mercenary, you bring the iron up with both hands just below his knees. He roars when it hits him and the force nearly throws you to the ground, but you’re able to right yourself and get back as he goes sprawling.
Before you can worry about where the best place to be is, a long black tentacle whips past you, wraps around the mercenary’s belt, and drags his prone form back into the inn. You look up to see Satrasi in the doorway, a full blown grin on his face displaying those sharp, sharp teeth. He pulls the leader behind him, tossing, “find out where he’s got the map,” over his shoulder. He barely looks like he’s been in a fight, clothing in fine order, no blood or injuries on him—only his unsheathed sword in hand as a cue.
His eyes land on you. “You simply can’t help being impressive, can you? I’ve got your payment,” he pats his breast pocket, “but more than that: how’d you like to join my crew? I could use a messenger like you.” He holds out a hand to help you to your feet.
You don’t even think, you don’t need to, as you clasp his hand. “Yes.”
[Part Six]
#my writing#story: don't shoot the messenger#don't shoot the messenger#story part#terato#exophilia#monster boyfriend#male monster#monster bf#monster x reader#monster romance#reader#osha compliant#hope the flashback lived up to expectations#and we've reached the part that literalnobody got the description highlights from#though even that was a rough draft#coming up next#back in the present#satrasi finds out what happened#let me know what you think!
325 notes
·
View notes
Text
terrible horrible day for hiram in particular
#it's all fun and games until he gets a flashback of The Fall while literally Falling again#he already plunged into the neath! there's no need to make him plunge more!!#the rotting memory description + the entire place getting erased is so good but particularly terrifying for hiram#I'm having so much fun but my poor guy is not doing good#fl spoilers#firmament
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Warning, the following video was made at 4:35am, Henchman A had a cold, I had to read a script because the English language is much easier to write than speak, and Father R is too tired to cut out the mistakes. So we kept them in and just made it funny. The music is not ours and belongs to its respective creator(s). - Editor T
#ao3 author#fnaf au#fnaf moon#fnaf sun#fnaf daycare au#fnaf sb#fnaf sun x reader#read on ao3#fnaf moon x reader#ao3 fanfic#character description#fantasy#tired#information#q&a questions#q&a session#q&a time#q&a#flashback
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
In the Shadow of Speculation Part 2
Part 1, Ao3
Heavy chapter, please heed the following;
Blood tw
vivisection tw
descriptions of a flashback
descriptions of a night terror
descriptions of recovery
abled verbiage tw
self hatred tw (mild)
forced parenthood equivalent (but in a ghost culture way)
Danny took a deep breath and used the Ring of Rage.
A glowing portal formed in the air before him, perfectly stable. Cold, bitter wind blew through it, along with the smell of antiseptic.
Wrinkling his nose, Danny stepped through the portal and closed it behind him.
“Oh, greetings Mr. High King! Are you ready for your check-up?” a nurse Yeti said, looking up from her clipboard enthusiastically.
Danny attempted a smile.
“I’m prepared for it, yeah.”
“Wonderful! Your friends are already in the room for moral support!”
Danny paused.
“Who-?”
“The Lady of the Green and the Lord of Innovation, of course!”
Oh thank the Ancients.
Danny nodded his thanks at the nurse and started for his assigned rooms.
Every inch of the hallways, unfamiliar before the Accident, were ingrained in his memories now.
He’d finally walked from his door to that window without help four months after waking up, and he’d been so fucking proud about it too. He’d hid behind that potted plant during his first flashback. He’d climbed out of that window and crawled on the roof just so he could feel the snow on his skin two months into Physical Therapy.
That was the yeti that had taken the brunt of his anger and hurt on his worst days, nodding at him as Danny passed. That was the room he’d pleaded with Dan to take him away from the hospital, that he couldn’t do it anymore, that he just wanted to go home-that was also the room Dan had set his foot down and said that he’d play the bad guy for Danny one last time.
And oh, how Danny had despised him for it.
But it had worked. Danny, with someone who was there for the sole purpose of taking the verbal assaults meant for his Physical Therapists and himself, who was only there to snipe back and deliberately egg Danny on, helped Danny find the energy to push forward.
And Danny still felt awful about that.
Danny passed the table he had eaten his first solid meal at, one month after waking up, and took a left.
There it was.
The door to the rooms that had been his sanctuary and his prison, right up until they hadn’t been needed anymore. The first place he’d seen when he’d woken up, and then been amazed that he’d woken up at all.
With a deep breath, Danny pushed it open.
“Hey man!”
“Danny!”
Danny’s smile was weak, and he was holding back tears in the face of so many memories he hated and adored in equal measure.
“Hey guys, thanks for coming.”
~~~~~~
Dan knew he was asleep. Dan knew he was awake. Dan knew he was somewhere in that awful inbetween.
He was in his parents basement. No, wait. They weren’t his parents. They’d never deserved the title.
He was in the Fenton’s basement.
The world kept glitching out, the colors kept melding together, and the only thing that stood out was the overwhelming feeling of disbelief and terror.
Little him was strapped to a table. Little him was strapped to a table. Little him was-
Stop.
Assess.
What was going on?
Little him was strapped to a table; he was locked in place. He was in his Core form. It was…damaged. It was damaged.
Why?
Who would…?
There was a sliver missing. They’d torn a piece of him off. They’d tried to peel him open. They’d-Little him would be crippled.
If he survived.
But he had survived, hadn’t he?
Little him’s core was strapped to a table, damaged, and there was no resonance coming from it. There were vials upon vials of ecto-blood on the tables.
That was a kidney.
That was a stomach.
There was blood on the floor.
There…there was blood on his shoes.
Dan floated off of it, listening to the dripping sounds it made as it rolled off his soles.
The door opened.
Two monsters walked through, all giant bug eyes and sharp metal knives.
Dan had two options.
He could kill the things that had done this.
Or.
He darted forward to break the straps and shoved Little him’s core next to his own, where it would be safe, where it could recover as it leeched his excess energy off of him.
The world glitched again.
Dan was standing in Jazz’s living room, hand digging into his own chest. Searching.
With a shaking breath, he pulled it out.
He’d only carried Danny’s core next to his own for two years, but he still found himself searching for it in moments of weakness.
He hadn’t been the best Spirit to host Danny’s core, but he’d fought tooth and nail to do it. Vengeance Spirits could not normally house Protective Spirits.
It was why he’d done the whole hero thing after; it would help Little him heal if he did. And when he scared the people he was saving away?
He’d opted to train the little fledgling heroes. He’d make sure they grew up safe, protected from actual villains and, if needed, their own personal ones.
Anything to make sure he didn’t have to see another kid so close to completely shattering into Nothing, he never wanted to see that shit again-
Dan forced himself to move away from the couch and towards the kitchen.
It was pointless to dwell on the past. He did everything he could; if the Twerp wanted to be next to those monsters, that was on him.
So what if he’d fucked up their relationship? At least the kid was alive.
Dan’s hands still shook as he made himself a cup of coffee.
…
Maybe he’d just check in. Just for a bit.
~~~~~~
Dan may have failed steps one through ten.
It had probably started when he’d played surrogate for the Runt, if he was completely honest. There was no way Dan hadn’t absorbed a little bit of his Protective nature.
Point was; Dan genuinely could not remember going to Arkham.
He just sort of…came back to himself while floating ominously above it.
He could see the alarm lights flashing below him. The humans running for their battle-stations.
The inmates being herded deeper into the complex.
Dan felt his eyes grow hotter, felt his claws dig into the flesh of his palms.
They were right there. Right fucking there. All he had to do was phase through the compound and just reach into their chests.
It would be so. Fucking. Easy.
In fact, he even caught a glimpse of Maddie through one of the windows.
Dan snarled, lifting a hand, the ectoplasm pooling in it hotter than anything he’d made before-
-and he was in the kitchen. Mom was trying to make hot dogs, but they kept fighting back. She was laughing at a dumb meme he’d shown her. His homework was covered in mustard from the fight with their food.
“I guess you can tell Mr. Lancer that you ‘mustard’ up every resource you had!” Dad called out as he walked by, and Dan felt so loved-
-Dan dropped the hand.
Maddie was hauled past the window and to safety.
Fuck.
Fuck this place.
Fuck this city.
Fuck everything about this situation.
~~~~~~
Batman grappled his way to the tallest watchtower in Arkham, keeping an eye on Phantom the entire time.
The guard that was already in the tower-a new hire, if he recalled-nervously stepped up to fall in line beside him.
Batman waved him off.
He knew Phantom. He knew that the man wasn’t actually a villain.
A Training Villain wasn’t something Batman had seen younger heroes needing, but when the Ghost in front of him had started play-fighting with the younger heroes to teach them through safe combat, the Bat had been mentally kicking himself.
It was a perfect job to train younger heroes, and Batman couldn’t help but feel like he’d failed the previous iterations by not realizing that.
Robin was still angry that he’d fallen for it, of course he was, but Batman could not deny that Phantom’s strange method of training had been instrumental in helping his youngest work through his rage.
Just like he could not deny that he and Phantom had something in common with Arkham.
It wasn’t hard to assume that the walls held a person responsible for the death of someone in the man’s life.
Phantom had only shown up to Arkham a total of three times.
The first time, he’d just hovered outside of it, holding his hand to his chest. He’d done nothing, and left in an hour.
The second time, two years later, he’d broken two walls and shattered a watchtower, screaming for someone to come out and face him. Robin had been on scene before Batman had time to distract him, convinced it was the same Phantom he was used to dealing with.
Surprisingly, the sight of Robin had been enough to still the beast Phantom had become. He’d toned down, forced Robin into a surprise hug, and then disappeared. Robin had been livid, but Batman had learned something about the Training Villain he didn’t think he wanted to know.
The man knew loss, and Batman was pretty sure he knew it on the same scale Bruce did.
From there, it wasn’t hard to figure out the most likely objects of his wrath.
Phantom was a Ghost. Ghosts had a very, very bad history with the American Government. The Anti-ecto acts had just been revealed to the public by Lois Lane, and the country was tearing itself apart.
The people who had been the most avid supporters had been, currently were, the Dr.s Fenton.
Who were housed in Arkham.
Batman had said nothing. He had gone back to the cave and quietly updated Phantom’s file, and left it at that.
The third time was the present.
Phantom had almost lost his temper. Almost.
But he’d reigned it in.
“Phantom,” Batman started, staring at the figure above him, “I know you can hear me. What’s happened?”
The Ghost stayed where he was for one hundred and twenty seconds, before slowly gliding down to the Bat.
Phantom did not say anything.
He did not have to.
His eyes were anywhere, everywhere, but where he actually was. When he actually was.
Batman quietly hissed through his teeth.
Alright then.
“I’m here if you want to talk, otherwise we can be silent. Just know that at this moment, you are not alone.”
Phantom chose silence for a good seventeen minutes.
Then Phantom opened his mouth.
“I should hate them,” the voice was halting, tired, “I should, I really should. They loved me so much, but they…they tore him apar-“ Phantom’s voice failed him.
Batman said nothing, and gave the Ghost time to collect himself.
While he waited, he compartmentalized what he’d learned. The Fentons had torn apart someone very, very important to Phantom.
And Bruce had an awful feeling that he meant that literally.
“I can’t be here,” Phantom said instead of finishing his previous thought.
Batman nodded.
“You didn’t hurt anyone this time, so go; I see no reason to stop you.”
Phantom didn’t grace Batman with a goodbye, but the Bat swore he felt an invisible hand squeeze his shoulder after the Ghost vanished from sight.
~~~~~~
Danny laid on the examination bed, one hand being held by Sam while Tucker lounged on the bed at Danny’s feet. They were talking about their new companies, how the world was changing, and distracted Danny while Frostbite examined his vivisection scarring.
Danny looked everywhere but Frostbite as the yeti pushed and prodded. He didn’t want to look at his chest if he didn’t have to, but he also didn’t want the embarrassment that was accidentally meeting his doctor’s eyes in the middle of a physical.
“Fantastic news, Young Savior,” Frostbite said, interrupting their idle chatter, “Your core, while still healing, is recovering at a phenomenal rate. Truly, Lady Gotham is good on her word! At this pace, your core should be fully healed in a mere century!”
Danny hated that. He hated that it needed to heal, and he hated that he was going to outlive his friends.
Sam and Tucker leaned a little closer, offering comfort for something that they knew the Ancient before them wouldn’t understand.
“Better news, the physical damage appears to be almost completely healed. The regrown kidney and stomach are showing no signs of failing, and the scarring should be the only nuisance. I recommend the afore-mentioned stretches and lotion to help the scar tissue conform with your movements.”
Danny nodded, sitting up as Frostbite stepped back and removed his hand from inside Danny’s torso.
“I also see no issue with your residual limb, although it does appear you’ve been forgetting to remove the prosthetic often enough to cause some light bruising. Can’t say I don’t understand, but perhaps write a reminder and pin it on your bedroom wall.”
Danny avoided Sam’s flat look.
Tucker just flashed his phone screen at Danny, the words ‘I can make you something really cool with rockets it you let me’ sprawled across the screen.
Danny absorbed Sam’s flat look and mirrored it towards Tucker.
Tucker threw up his hands.
“Ancients forbid I do anything, I guess,” the techie sighed dramatically.
Once Danny pulled himself together and got ready to leave, Tucker threaded an arm around his own.
“So, wanna go ding-dong-ditch Walker?”
Danny paused, then grinned; and for the first time in two weeks, it wasn’t a lie.
~~~~~~
Danny waved back at Sam and Tucker as they went through their own portals. They would definitely have to get together and hit the town on Earth.
Danny walked through his own portal and ran face-first into a mass of muscle.
Dan steadied him as he bounced back.
Danny was immediately hit with conflicting, very confusing emotions.
He was looking at Dan, his enemy. He was looking at his father? No, it was Dan. Wasn’t that the same-?
Danny shook his head. He’d never gotten a straight answer about why his Ghost self’s view on Dan had changed so dramatically; everyone always shied away from the question.
“Can I ask what you’re doing in my apartment?” He asked instead, stepping back and closing the portal.
“Just making sure you’re settling in, Tiny.”
“We’re the same height?”
“Nah, we’re not.”
Danny shoved the absurdity of their interaction in the back of his head and made for his couch.
“Well, whatever you’re doing here, here’s to hoping it involved making dinner,” he groaned, sinking into the cushion and pulling up his left leg to start the tediously cumbersome process of pulling it off, “because per the doctor, I’m supposed to keep the prosthetic off for the rest of today.”
“I was gonna order out. Move, we’re watching Sailor Moon.”
Danny whined pitifully when Dan physically picked him up and moved him to the side.
He fought his instincts, and his instincts won.
He leaned back and allowed Dan to take the prosthetic off, clawed fingers delicate for all that the man snarled under his breath.
He also allowed the man to commandeer the TV; not something he would even allow Jazz to do.
“Why do I let you do these things?” Danny muttered, eyeballing the quasi-villain on his couch as said villain massaged the stump just below his knee.
Dan snorted.
“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”
“Ugh, no one tells me anything.”
“We’re pacing you,” Dan corrected, blunt for all that the words were careful, “when you’re back on your feet, you’ll get the non-vital details we skimmed.”
Danny didn’t bother arguing; he’d already tried for the better part of the previous year. For some reason, the yetis took Dan’s side, too.
Instead, they fell into a companionable silence, appreciating Sailor Moon. Which was fine by Danny, since he never knew how to behave around Dan. It was only interrupted by the delivery of the Greek food Dan had ordered out.
Danny was on his second Gyro when Dan finally broke the silence.
“So I heard there was a rogue attack outside your apartment,” he said idly, and Danny could feel his eyes on him.
“Yeah.”
“So you got to see the Bats in action?”
“…Yeah.”
Dan leaned in, eyes going critical.
“What needs improvement? Don’t lie; that ‘yeah’ was one that means you weren’t impressed.”
Danny shrugged.
“I dunno, just…they didn’t have someone who’s only job it was was to evacuate the people, or help the injured. It was just offense, no defense.”
Dan snorted and leaned away.
“Kept telling that to Robin, but no; ‘Father this’ and ‘Father that’.” Dan shook his head, chewing thoughtfully on his rack of lamb. “So. What are you gonna do about it?”
Danny blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve seen what they need, and I’m not stupid enough to think you’ll stay out of the game forever. What are you gonna do about it?”
Danny looked down at his Gyro, frowning.
What was he gonna do about it?
He couldn’t fight, not like he used to, not really. But if the Bats were tanking, then…he probably wouldn’t really have to.
“I’ve been in medical facilities for almost a year,” Danny said slowly, ignoring how Dan stiffened next to him, “I think I’ve picked up a few things. Frostbite would probably be thrilled if I asked him to teach me, honestly.”
Dan relaxed, humming thoughtfully around the bone he was chewing on.
“I think…I’ll be a medic.”
@simplestoryteller @gildedphoenix
I do not suffer PTSD, and I've never had a life-altering injury. That said, I know people who have, for both of those.
I apologize if my descriptions are off.
Here's some notes to piece together what this chapter outlines, for those that want the sparknotes as to what Dan is alluding to.
From my notes;
"Ghosts can carry another ghosts core if that core is injured, to protect and promote healing. Typically, the father or mother figure does it. In this particular instance, Dan did it.
We will see in a bit, but for Dan their relationship went from enemies-warden-person I gotta apologize to-person I’ve got to save-the core housed next to mine-son.
For Danny, it randomly went from enemies to ‘why do I think dan is my dad more than I think my dad is my dad’."
This is where the "forced parenthood" tw comes into play, because Dan felt like he had to do it, and due to instinct Danny subconsciously got dragged along for the ride.
Also, if it wasn't clear from the age list on the first chapter and the timeline presented, I'm playing around with Lian and Roy's timeline; Dan's first year he babysat her, and then she died. She came back only four weeks prior to Danny re-entering the human world.
#in the shadow of speculation#dcxdp#dpxdc#dc x dp#dp x dc#blood tw#vivisection tw#flashback tw#night terror tw#descriptions of recovery#physical therapy mention#self hatred tw#abled verbiage tw#forced parenthood tw#healing through helping others#past abuse#past torture
192 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Noise
He didn’t care.
It was too loud.
Everyone at the return parade to celebrate their victory in the war was having fun, but Sun didn’t care.
He wanted the noise to stop.
The sound of drums and trumpets and other instruments vibrated with power in his chest, rattling the metal and wires within his scarred body. He pushed his even more ruined brother along in a wheelchair as if he was nothing more than a S.T.A.F.F. Bot.
He kept moving even though all he wanted to do was run away and hide. He wanted quiet.
The large band parted eventually, forcing Sun to roll a crippled Moon and himself through the tunnel of noise.
The band grew ten times louder than before, blaring into Sun’s audio sensors and forcing him to hunch over. He tried to stand straight again for the people, he really tried, but he couldn’t. It’s as if his joints rusted in place.
He pursed what would be his lips together, biting on the soft material that made up his tongue. He would get through this even if he had to be reset because of the delayed reactions to his panic this would bring.
The band wouldn’t stop. As the rest of the military branches followed behind Sun and the army, the noise got increasingly louder. The civilians at the parade cheered with all their might every time someone announced something on the booming microphone.
Images of a hospital flashed though Sun’s mind. A hospital. Snow. Red snow. The screams of the Ukrainian victims. The ones he and his comrades were unable to save. Moon’s leg, lying mangled in the dirty snow several yards away from who it belonged to. Instead of the overjoyed faces that were actually there, Sun saw faces of fading hope.
The faces of defeat that were plastered on the victims of the war.
His grip on Moon’s wheelchair tightened as he looked on. Luckily, it wasn’t long before they all came to a stop. The military that walked, the band that played, the people that cheered.
It all stopped.
However sudden it was, the relief was obvious as soon as his sensors processed the silence.
Sun didn’t care for Moon’s concerned gaze trained on him as he breathed a sigh of relief.
All was quiet.
He would be okay.
#q is dead#from the bitty jar#DCA veterans#dca! veterans au#veteran sun#sargeant sun#drabble#tw war#tw flashbacks#descriptions of violence#robot gore#cw mentions of death#cw mentions of blood
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
What genre of book were you written for and did you survive to the end
Written for an adventure book where you were killed during a battle
You live for whatever the next greatest thing may be. You don’t worry about the possible danger, instead only looking at the possibility of excitement and the great story you may be able to get out of this. You are a bit rash and don’t look before you leap, which is what ends up getting you killed in battle.
Tagged By: No one. Liked this quiz and decided to share!
Tagging: @senpujin @shacchou @hhorakhty @acollapsar @chapeliier @adversitybloomed @battleguqin @thuganomxcs @infintasmal (Any muse!) @tophatz (Any muse!) and anyone else who'd like to do this!
#💎 Sun Treasure (Gao Mikado)#💎 Sun Plays Along (Gao Dash Games)#(considering by that one flashback Kiri has of an ancestor/past life of gao's dying in battle...YEAH THAT MAKES A LOT OF SENSE ;;;;#(The description fits Gao too. This kid jumps into danger a lot and doesn't always think. but he's also 12 so like LOL
5 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Drew some art for Hellblazer fanfic Gimmie Shelter (by NAOA on AO3)
#NAOA#john constantine#hellblazer#gimmie shelter#horror#art#fanfiction fanart#trigger warnings in the description of the fic#id say dont read if you arent used to / familiar with the old VERTIGO hellblazer runs and its fragged up content#John and his no good very bad times after the flashback events from Vertigo HELLBLAZER Special#sketches
143 notes
·
View notes
Text
Like the other psa post we made about not wanting anymore of people to ask us how we're doing / how our day is since we're technically never going to be truly okay unless my abusive mother is out of my life, I don't know if this is a permanent thing to add onto the guideline or not as well, I think I will say this anyway that for the time being, if people can be sure to trigger tag or place a warning of " child distress " where out of any context in illustration, audio, or writing a child ( either as a muse themself or muse's childhood self ) is in physical or mental distressful position / state, especially if they're described as crying; that would be extremely much appreciated.
On an additional note, because we do explore and interact with Micah's childhood self and their child alter, Mimi, quite often and they had experienced various forms of distress across their life and in childhood, we will use this specific tag, #child distress cw. As most people know, Micah is often in a distressful position / state across the series ( prominent example was across July - August after the massacre event, Micah was at their most vulnerable state ). We will be using #distress cw if anyone needs it at all or at times if they are not at a certain mental / emotional state to read / see an intense piece involving Micah or other Starwakers.
Lastly, the Starwake System is an intense system of individuals who have their extreme experiences at time, even for a quick moment. We will never reduce or remove the intensity that any Starwakers would think and feel and behave for anyone because we wouldn't do their characters justice by not following any aspects of them ( personality, mental health, etcetera ); it would be wrong to water down parts of their identities, so this is a gentle reminder that as that is the case, we can and will at least provide warnings of distress and any other applicable sensitive contents when necessary.
#𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ PSA . ›#[ vvvvv warning for child distress + abuse implication and ptsd description ]#///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////#[ child crying has always been a trigger of mine due to having a younger brother and having an abusive mother... well ]#[ it's bound to become a trigger ; but I think after what happened on Thursday ; it's worsening ]#[ as Friday morning ; I just started crying after hearing a child client cry outside the classroom we were in ]#[ as I experienced quick vague flashes of the Thursday event ]#[ and somehow I managed to push it through and could still work even in a draining position ]#[ usually I'd dissociate but this is the first time I'd experience crying and flashbacks ]#[ so I want to kindly ask - if possible - that any instances where a child either as a muse or as an adult muse's childhood component ]#[ would be in a distressful state / position for any reasons would be tagged + warned for the time being as this trauma is still recent ]#[ that'd be a lot appreciated ]#[ while we want to remind people the Starwake System is an intense system of characters and we do focus on Mimi a lot ]#[ in our writings and metas and inspo that we reblog so we will always be sure to use triggers for anything necessary ]#[ but thank you so much for giving this a read ; it's most appreciated. please take care. ♡ ]
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dannymay7
Lab safety
“This doesn’t sound safe.” Jazz protested. From the look on her face, Danny thought she might have been trying to sound judgmental, but she only managed worried.
“Relax, Jazzy.” Dad said, “Dann-o’s more than old enough to be allowed in the lab. Besides, he actually wants to do some chores for a change!”
“He already does…” Jazz murmured.
“I wanna help in the basement!” Danny insisted, jumping excitedly.
“But what if he gets hurt!” His sister insisted.
“Danny what are our rules?” Mom asked absently.
“Um- No, no being in the lab without adult superstition,”
oOo
Danny felt a wave of regret as he walked down the basement steps. His legs grew lead-heavy, and he slowed to a nervous amble-shuffle behind his two closest—only—friends, wishing, not for the first time, that he had put a stop to this excursion when it had only been an idea.
He couldn’t remember for the life of him how Sam and Tucker had made this sound so appealing.
“Guys, there really isn’t anything interesting down there” he attempted, uncertain. It was technically true, for all the time his parents spent down there—a familiar pang of resentment struck him, a twisted blade in an old wound—few things in the lab worked, as many of them required ‘ghosts’ to be tested or demonstrated; nearly every single one of his parents’ gadgets was a product of ‘ludicrous delusions’ (as Jazz had put it) despite the fact they were able to construct ridiculously complex and advanced technology based on their fictional creatures.
“Danny, You live here. You’re hardly one to judge.” Tucker said, excitement tinting his voice, and while Danny couldn’t deny that was valid, it was hardly fair.
“Plus, you said they’ve been building a portal, how do you not hear how cool that sounds?” Sam countered easily, stopping in her descent to lightly grab his wrist, and began pulling him along. He almost abandoned his protest.
The portal. It was his parents’ life’s work. The hole in the wall of the lab had been there since before he was born, and anytime he caught his parents going over theories, or blueprints, or just any aspect of their profession, the portal came up. It was even the reason they weren’t home; Jazz had pushed them to stop moping at its failure, called their festering dependence on its success unhealthy, and told them to go out and enjoy themselves, and Danny admittedly couldn’t remember the last time his parents left the house for anything that was purely recreational.
It was actually unbelievable that the portal hadn’t come up prominently in a conversation with his best friends before… Although It had been on the forefront of Danny’s mind lately. He thought it’s completion (it’s failure) might mean his parents would drop the whole ‘ghost hunters’ thing—not that he could imagine that—and hopefully pursue a normal career, or at least obsess over something more… tangible.
“Come on dude, your parents are never out. We might not get the chance to check it out again. Plus, you’ve got to admit it does sound cool. What’s the harm?”
oOo
“Supervision.” Jazz corrected.
“That’s what I said! Don’t interrupt or I’ll forget!”
“If you forget them, then you don’t know them and you should be allowed in the lab! Danny it’s dangerous.”
Danny scowled and ignored her, counting off the second rule on his fingers as he continued, “Always wear my science suit,”
oOo
“What is it?” He asked, curious. Sam turned and looked at him, before a devious, mirthful glint entered her eyes. He shouldn’t have asked, terrible idea, he’d never felt so much regret..
“Danny, you should go inside the portal.” She said waving her camera. Oh. He tried to protest.
“I really shouldn’t. It could be dangerous.” He offered.
“You said it doesn’t work, so there shouldn’t be any problem.” Tucker countered, teasing, a silent dare on the words, as he moved to stand with him and Sam.
“Tuck…” Danny groaned.
“That settles it.” Sam half-cheered, pushing him towards the wall opening.
“But, the radiation—” Danny started, digging his feet into the ground. He knew that line of argument was pointless; ‘ectoplasmic radiation’ could potentially do some terrifying things—the fridge was a prime example of that—but with the concentration the portal was emitting, the worst he could get was something akin to a sunburn (plus contamination). His parent must have told him a thousand times at this point, and always they followed up with attempts to talk him and Jazz into wearing their—
“Didn’t you say you had a hazmat suit in here.” Sam interrupted, grinning like the cat that caught the canary.
“There’s a box of clothes on that cabinet.” Tucker pointed out, already moving to carry it down.
“…There are open wires in there.” Danny knew his objections had devolved into whining at this point.
Sam simply raised an eyebrow, letting her eyes fall to the thick wires that ran across the portal floor, and the few, spark-less cut ones tucked neatly to the sides of the portal. Danny’s shoulders slumped as he admit defeat.
“Just one picture.” Danny compromised heading over to the box, Tucker was already digging through.
Sam appeared to be opposed, but didn’t say otherwise. “one picture,” she assured, following him.
In the box, there were four complete hazmat suits, only two of them being his size: One orange, one a pale white. Danny chose the white one, because it was the same make as the ones his parents constantly dawned, while the other, while thicker, rigged with lead and metal parts that would offer more protection, it might have taken him hours to figure out how to put on complex article, even with Sam and Tucker’s help.
He quickly unzipped it, slipping into the suit easily and zipping it up over his clothes, before looking down at himself with a pained expression.
“I look ridiculous.” He said into his gloved hands, covering the emerging blush.
Sam walked up to him and ripped off the sticker of his father’s face that had been stuck on the centre of his chest. “Problem solved.” She deadpanned.
Danny groaned, but conceded. He headed towards the portal entrance, keeping a hand on the edge. He looked back: Tucker was grinning madly, and Sam beckoned him forward, camera still in hand. He sighed and gazed back into the portal.
oOo
“-and… never ever play with any of the stuff mom and dad build.” He finished smugly.
oOo
“If I die, I’m going to haunt both of you!” Danny threw over his shoulder, much the amusement of his closest companions.
Step. Step. Step.
Danny felt himself becoming more weighed down with each step. Anxieties and fears pooling in his gut, knotting his stomach. He breathed out slowly, attempting to push back the pointless dread he felt. He continued to tensely tiptoe over the wires. Nothing in here could hurt him. He flinched at a released puff of steam. So why was he so afraid?
He turned around to see Sam’s camera raised. He gave, a small, shaky smile.
Flash.
Danny rubbed his eyes, stumbling a bit, but caught himself. Tucker looked over Sam’s shoulder as she shook out the photo; he waited.
“It’s good!” She called over to him. Good. He could get out of here now.
“This one’s definitely a keeper!” Tucker declared merrily, snatching it out of Sam’s hand and holding it up to his own face.
“Hey!” Sam complained reaching for it, but Tucker held It out of her reach. He was the tallest of the three of them, so Sam shouldn’t have been able to get it back. A kick to the shins accompanied by a yelp, and Tucker was down.
Danny sighed fondly. Tucker may be tall, but Sam was Sam.
Danny watched the scene, a genuine smile stretching across his face. “Just make sure my parents don’t see it or they’ll never let me take this stupid jumpsuit off.” Danny was only half joking, and judging by the way his Sam cackled, while Tucker tried to hide his snorts, they could tell. He eased up, moving an arm up to lean against the wall of the portal.
It hit him like a brick.
Pure unadulterated dread, as he commit to the action, the unnatural air that had been resting over the house, over Amity as a whole, turned cloying and thick.
Something was coming, something was coming. Something was coming. SomethingwascomingSomethingwascom—
Click.
A lot of things happened in the next instant.
The first thing Danny saw was white. Well, he wasn’t so sure he’d seen it, as opposed to feeling it: hot white, seething on the surface of his skin, running up his arm and phasing deeper and deeper until Danny was sure he was feeling his bones, the light cutting through the fibres of his being, tiny needles made from static.
It hurt.
He was hyperaware; he was cognisant of every part of his body. He was connected with the rims of his bleeding ears, felt the backs of his eyes roll as they charred and shrivelled, tasted his too-dry organs as if they were a bad meal coming back up.
It hurt.
The next thing Danny saw was green. At this point Danny was sure he had been frozen in the blistering light-heat for some long agonising minutes, but only when that chilling of green washed over him, through him—hitting him like the weight of an avalanche in a dream, fuzzy and not there with a force—did he acknowledge time had slowed, that he hadn’t even been there for a second.
Ithurt.
Reality twisted upright upon the green’s impact and Danny finally felt, full-force, something he knew was present, but hadn’t truly been able to process before then. He was in pain. He was burning and freezing all over. His body was being grated away at. He vaguely recalled when he was eight and Dash had shoved him into the pavement while he’d been running from him: the scrapes were deep on his knees and hands, and his split open lip made eating burn for days; the pain felt dull and quiet compared to this. But, that memory played in the back of his mind, meanwhile, any semblance of coherent thought fizzed away, the contorting sensations and sharp agonies trying to erase him, leave only cold ashes behind.
(His last real thought was doused In relief; he thanked every star in the sky that this had been his mistake, that Sam and Tucker were safe and wouldn’t have to feel this torture. They should never have to.)
Ithurt Ithurt Ithurt
Seconds passed and that thrum of awareness that had let him feel everything as he was cooked Inside out, dulled painfully. Slowly. Enough for him to regain thought, to try and make his lungs work (to no avail), to try and blink away the fire only to find his eyelids just weren’t there anymore.
Ithurtithurtihurt
He felt something heavy grow in his chest (or maybe somewhere far away? He wasn’t too sure) and pull pieces of his mind away. Coax pieces of something more him than his mind, something more.
He wasn’t as resistant to it as he should have been, instead letting it lump within him—it felt like that strange green—take charge while memories resurfaced. He just wanted the pain to stop.
ItHuRt iTHurT IthUrT—
Suddenly, Danny remembered. He remembered when Jazz took him to school on his first day of first grade. He remembered how happy he was when she’d gotten him a toy rocket for show and tell. He remembered looking up at her and telling her exactly what he’d always thought; Jazzy was the best sister in the world and he wanted to be smart and amazing like her. He remembers how he met Tucker when he was crying, because Ryan had torn his new Barrett, and Danny had snagged it back, hid it away, and later offered to help him fix it. He remembers how happy he was when his mom taught him how to sew (even though he already knew how), and he remembered how ecstatic he was when she tried to teach him how to cook for the first time. He remembers how joyous he felt when his dad agreed to come in for careers day. He remembered how much he regret asking. He remembered the whispers of freak, and the way they’d called his parents loons. He remembered the way Star and Mickey, and Lester, and Ashley, and Mia wouldn’t hang around him anymore. He remembered feeling alone. He remembered when Tucker didn’t leave. He remembered the way his teachers looked at him with disappointment, thinking he couldn’t be smart like Jazz. He remembered trying to prove them wrong. He remembered getting fed up with Dash and Dale’s when their teasing and tormenting got worse for everyone when they got on the football team. He remembered Dash taking everything he did as a challenge. He remembered getting in trouble for fighting Dash even though he never fought back. He remembered some of his peers stopped insulting him when he passed by. He remembered when some of them thanked him. He remembered when he didn’t tell Jazz but she knew anyway. He remembered when the men in white coats came to his house and his parents argued with them really loudly. He remembered when his parents started spending even more time in the basement. He remembered spending a week at Tucker’s house before his parent noticed he was missing in the third grade. He remembered when his family stargazed together for the last time. He remembered when he grew a taste for exploration. He remembered when he decided he wanted to be an astronaut. He remembered first seeing Sam at recess in fourth grade when her parents let her go to public school, admiring the flowers. He remembered making her a flower crown with all the best colours. He remembered her yelling at him for picking the flowers. He remembered him and Tucker helping her take care of a bent tree In the schoolyard. He remembered Dash destroying it. He remembered catching the chickenpox, and giving it to Jazz. He remembered their parents looking after them even if his dad thought ghosts had made them sick and tried to decontaminate them. He remembered when Paulina stopped talking, to him and asking him to braid her hair, even though it had been in secret, and started calling him names too. He remembered not wanting to hurt anymore. He remembered when the names stopped making him too upset. He remembered when he finally acknowledged his parents weren’t quite normal. He remembered when Jazz got him a toy telescope for his birthday. He remembered that being the second time his parents forgot his birthday. He remembered finding that injured rabbit in the park. He remembered how he, Sam and Tucker had taken turns hiding It while they took care of it. He remembered when Sam’s parents found it. He remembered the first time her parents had said what they thought of him to his face. He remembered not wanting to feel inadequate. He remembered how happy he was when Mickey started asking him for help in physics. He remembered when Jazz stopped pretending that she wasn’t psychoanalyzing him. He remembered when Jazz and his parents got him a real telescope for his birthday. He remembered his first day of high school being memorably mundane. He remembered when Mia and Rachel asked to use his telescope. He remembered agreeing to meet them in the park next Friday…
(Danny fixated on something, several things actually, as the events of his life flashed by in a haze of vivid joys and regrets. He tried to place it… he wished he’d done more. More things he’d wanted to do. He wished that he’d succeeded more, that he’d done more to help. He’d always cared about being useful. He’d never wanted people to feel bad, or hurt, or ignored, but… he felt, for all he’d tried, he could have done more. He wanted to do more.)
ｉｔ ｈｕｒｔｓ.
Danny remembered going Into the lab with Sam and Tucker. He remembered going inside the portal. He remembered the switch being on the inside. He remembered…
He couldn’t remember.
He couldn’t remember anything. His mind went blank as one by one his senses switched off, that odd energy, a second brain, still trying to pick at his mind, scavenging memories and something more. What was left of his eyes stopped seeing light, leaving him in a painless dark. Then, He became deaf to the thrum of electricity and the crackle of energy as his now brittle bones shattered away, the desperate yells from something beyond the haze of green and light. Next, his hoarse voice went quiet (had he been screaming?) as his mouth sealed shut, the coppery taste of blood faded as his black, crinkled tongue became numb. He couldn’t smell the burning; he couldn’t breathe. He felt shadows embrace his consciousness, guiding him away from his body once he’d lost feeling in it. The shadows became clearer, a single dominating presence ruling them all, plunging him into a cold pool, emitting surety and gentle reassurance. Everything went dark.
It was like an outstretched hand had taken a hold of his psyche, and he could tell it was going to take him somewhere much better.
Nothing hurt.
oOo
“Honestly honey, you worry too much.” Maddie said, ruffling Jazz’s hair in a way Danny knew she didn’t like. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
#cw: pretty vivid descriptions of the accident#I mean- it’s fine :D nothing bad ever happens in basements seriously#c’mon read my thing#it’s soft and not graphic I swear ;)#but seriously don’t read this if Danny being burnt alive will make u uncomfortable or anything#I repurposed the entirety of the flashbacks from something else#i’m tired#danny phantom#dp#danny fenton#Sam Manson#tucker foley#jack fenton#maddie fenton#jazz fenton#fanfiction#phicc#fanfic#phanphic#dannymay2022#dannymay 2022#dannymay lab safety#dannymay day 7#the accident™
207 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
fragmentsofameaninglesslife-blog
Fragments on a nutshell
yeswereabeautifulmess
Were A Beautiful Mess
serene-sabo
『♡』
levithea
Unbetitelt