#i think i'm lucky that my standard lip color is red and my hair looks the way it does | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ravensmind · 3 years

Text

Happy RobRae week 2021! Here's my day 1 prompt fic. There will be an extended smuttier version coming soon. Might only do this prompt this year just due to things I have going on, but I'm still writing! Hope you enjoy this 😃.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13863436/1/Finals-and-a-First

~RavensMind~

RobRae week 2021

Day 1: Gotham Academy AU

Finals and a First

Finals week. Two simple words that had the power to make anyone quake with anxiety and while he may do a good job of hiding it, Dick Grayson was no exception. Luckily for him, he had a solid group of friends who had each other’s backs. They mostly studied as a group when they were free, unless their class schedule or extracurricular activity demanded they improvise. Gotham Academy was not known for caring about its students' friendships or whether they had free time to study together or not. Dick was on the football team and they did not have practice that day, so he was free, but Victor, Kori, Garfield, and Tara were all at meets or practices or matches or just in class, only Rachel was able to study with him, and that presented a challenge. Dick was enamored with Rachel, infatuated with Rachel, could not stop thinking about Rachel, and she had no idea because he just could. Not. Tell. Her.

Even though Rachel Roth, the quiet, reserved, sarcastic, smart, violet-haired girl was sitting only inches away from him at the same table in the library, he could not look at her, as he had some paranoid feeling that she knew exactly how he felt when he looked at her. Normally, he would play off of his other friends, but now they were alone. He hid in his textbook, pretending to be very interested in some words located near the spine of the book in some rose colored block of text. Out of frustration with his own inner turmoil, he picked up the noble they’d been assigned to read and chucked it into a nearby bookcase.

“Are you okay?” Rachel asked in a frustrated tone.

“Yeah, I’m fine, why?” Dick returned.

"You’re just not usually this quiet, is all,” she replied.

“Guess I’m just nervous,” he said.

“About our finals?”

“Yeah,” he said, thanking the universe for that excuse.

“I didn’t think you got nervous over stuff like this, at least I don’t think I’ve seen it. Wait ‘till this gets out, the chill, cool captain of the football team is freaking over his final,” she teased.

“But you wouldn’t tell anyone, right?”

“No. Lucky you, I don’t think anyone would believe me.”

“That the only reason you wouldn’t say anything?”

“No, because I don’t know that I believe you either,” she replied, toying with a strand of her hair with one of her slim, almost pale fingers.

Dick chanced a look at her and was surprised to see a playful smirk on her face and a strange look in her violet eyes that he was not sure he had seen before. He tensed a little when he realized he had slipped up and looked at her. Did she know? Was he screwed? The last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable and get on her bad side. She had enough trouble dealing with the gossip and judgmental teachers for her goth vibe and overall lack of shits to give attitude.

At one point, he heard Rachel had been summoned to the dean’s office for violating the dress code by wearing black knee highs over fishnets and foregoing the standard blue skirt for a black one. Her response was that technically she was in compliance, as there was no rule about a specific color skirt, or that she could not wear anything in addition to the socks on her legs, and she was a model student. Aside from snapping at a teacher or two, she was rarely in trouble, and he knew she had good grades. She still kept that style, even though more teachers voiced their disapproval, but they ultimately could not do anything without changing the dress code and it was not worth it. After he heard about what happened, Dick helped her out by changing the color tie and slacks he wore from blue to black, as his popularity would make her style choice far less controversial. He had mostly done it to help her, but he also liked being seen as more of a rebel. He stuck up for her when she was being picked on and she was always quick to shut down anyone who was bad-mouthing him.They had grown a bit closer as a result, though neither really acknowledged it to the other.

He swallowed and considered what his options would be if she dug deeper. He hoped that he could talk his way out of whatever accusation she was about to make. He shifted in his chair and cleared his throat.

“What makes you say that?” he asked.

“Hmm. Well, you’ve never really stressed about tests before. When Gar complains, you calm him down and put together a plan to study, so I’m pretty sure you’re more level-headed,” she replied.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not nervous.”

“No, but I think it’s less likely that it’s about the exams. Now that I think about it… you kind of acted like this last time we hung out. Maybe it’s about one of us,” she thought aloud.

“Like I said, I’m nervous about finals. It’s, uhh, just been a lot for me this time. It’s our last year and I don’t want Bruce to be harder on me if I don’t measure up,” he said, injecting a little truth, desperately hoping it would help sell his lie.

“I suppose that’s fair, but I still don’t think it’s that.”

“Why’s it matter? It’s not like I’m hiding anything that would hurt people. I’m just stressed!”

“You’re hiding plenty, but that’s not the point. It matters,” she hesitated before continuing, “because I don’t like seeing you stressed. It’s like I can feel it and I want to help you. Something’s clearly eating at you and I hate seeing you try and bury it like it’s not there.”

He sighed and looked down at his book. He stared down at the page as he felt the swelling of emotions that rose from his heart. He wanted to spill everything, but knew that it would not be fair to her, to dump everything at once and give her a massive choice to make about them. He cared about her and she clearly cared about him, so he thought he might be able to at least give her a hint or two. She was dealing with more than enough, she didn’t need his problems too.

“Okay...don’t laugh. It’s about a girl,” he said.

Rachel perked up and tilted her head. Dick swore her eyes lit up, but that may have just been a trick of the light as someone passed by the window near them, book in hand.

“I’m not going to laugh! What’s making you so nervous? I seriously doubt you’d ever need to be stressing over a girl, plenty throw themselves at you, though I guess that could be tough too.”

“She’s different. I like her, but she’s never really said if she likes me or not. I hang out with her quite a bit and we have fun, or I think we do. I'm just not sure if I want to take a chance and mess up a good thing.”

“You’re being ridiculous.. Clearly she likes you enough to spend time with you, you should have had some kinda obvious sign by now. Some girls tease you or act a certain way around you, others might be more blunt, but you have to know at this point. Though, it would help if you said who she is,” she teased knowingly.

“Hah, yeah, it is a little silly,” he chuckled, “You wouldn’t tell her though?”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m interested, I need to get ready for the big reveal, lots of pyro and speakers to set up,” she replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes, “No, of course not, idiot. You know you can trust me. Why the secrecy, though? Is it... Kori?”

She leaned forward with interest, almost teetering on the edge of her seat.

“No, uh, but you’re kinda close,” he said, anxiously shifting in his chair.

He watched as she went quiet and crossed her legs in her chair, sitting up a bit straighter as she considered the possible remaining options. He hoped she had thought of herself first.

“I admit, I could see why you’d like Tara, she’s pretty easy to talk to and knows what she likes, which isn’t common,” she said, tracing her bottom lip with her finger, “I think she can be a little insecure though, so you may want to keep that in mind.”

He wondered to himself if she was toying with him.

“It’s uhh, it’s not Tara, either,” he admitted, his cheeks turning red.

Rachel’s cheeks also reddened as her mouth formed a coy smile, and she went quiet. Her fingers played with the edge of a page in her textbook as she looked away from Dick toward the door before snapping back so her eyes met his.

“Oh. So, I think if you like her, you really should say something. I’m not sure if I know *exactly* how she feels, but I’d want to hear you say how much you like me. I’d like to know how I made you feel… if I was her,” she teased.

“Are you sure? I uhh, I’d hate if I came on to her too strongly, she’d shut me down and it would mess with the friendship she and I had,” he asked, undoing his tie and opening his school blazer a little. He was feeling very warm all of a sudden.

“I don’t think she would let that happen, Dick,” she replied, leaning closer to him, “You should probably tell me who she is...so I have a better idea.”

He took a deep breath and smiled at her, letting the moment last, enjoying the hopeful, expectant look on her face.

“Her name is Rachel,” he said, edging closer to her.

Dick felt his heart pounding in his chest and he swore his face was burning as they both got closer to each other, until his lips were inches from Rachel’s. Neither looked around to see who else in the library might be watching, and the idea that anyone else even existed was as distant as another planet. Her eyes closed as she pressed her lips to his and he eagerly kissed her back, hardly believing this was happening. Their heated kiss was interrupted by the sound of the librarian reprimanding a classmate of theirs at another table on the other side of a bookcase. Rachel smiled at him, biting her lip while she studied his face for a moment.

“That. Is what you get when you tell the truth,” she said.

#raven #robin #robrae #teen titans #robrae week #robraeweek #robraeweek2021 #robrae week 2021 #fanfic

28 notes · View notes

lexosaurus · 6 years

Text

Everything Was White - Part 1

Hey I wrote a phicc. Warning for GiW-related gore. Blease enjoy.

chapter two / read on ao3

---

"What do you remember about that day, Danny?"

The smell of antiseptic mixed with the citrus odor of ectoplasm. The sounds of expensive black shoes clicking against the tiled floors. Powerful hands, gripping small arms, dragging a lifeless body across the floor. The bright lights. Lips on tall faces that were always set in a frown. The white walls, floors, ceiling, suits. The glare of the lights against the floor. It's all white. The clang of the metal instruments being dropped on the white tiles. Who did that? It's so bright. The shoes won't stop clicking against the floor. Where's the body going? Why is it so bright?

"Danny?" The therapist leaned in, tilting her head to the side. Her blond hair slipped off her shoulder. "Talk to me."

"Nothing." Danny's eyes darted down to his lap where he held a blue stress ball. He pressed a finger into it, denting the material. It was soft, yet held a certain firmness that helped to ground his mind. He let out a shaky breath.

"I don't think I believe that," the therapist said.

Danny furrowed his brow. "It's too...I don't know."

The therapist sat patiently, waiting for him to finish processing his thoughts. She was the best, the hospital had reassured his parents. She would be able to get through to him. Danny wasn't so sure. How broken was too broken for a therapist? At what point would medication not be enough? This wasn't normal. Nothing about this was okay. He wasn't okay.

Danny's mouth pressed into a thin line, twitching slightly. It was as if his mouth knew what it wanted to say, but it just couldn't quite find the words to say it. "It's too...bright," he finished lamely.

"That sounds stressful."

"I guess."

The therapist relaxed in her chair, her blond curls bouncing slightly at the movement. She folded her hands across her lap. In the moment, she looked so similar to Jazz that Danny could have smiled. "Did this happen the day after you were kidnapped?"

"No." Danny squished his fingers deeper into the stress ball. He was starting to get a headache. "No...it happened…after."

"How far after?"

"I don't know. After."

It was the climax of his stay at the facility. The day everyone was waiting for. All other tests had been run. They knew Danny's core temperature, they knew his height and weight, they knew his exact power level, they knew which chemicals he reacted to and which ones he didn't. They knew how to take down a ghost far better than they ever did. They had the knowledge they needed.

Now it was time to have fun with their prize.

The therapist nodded. "You mentioned a few days ago that they said something to you when you got to the room? Do you know what they said?"

"No." The words were an automatic reflex at this point. He remembered everything. Every footstep, every speck of dust on the ceiling, every drop of ectoplasm that stained the floor behind him.

"Where's your bark, dog?" The worst of them had said, laughing as he prodded Danny with a low-powered electrical stick. The real pain was in the collar. The stick was just for show. "Little doggy's lost his bark, hasn't he?"

His eyes darted around him. Chains appeared on his side. He shivered, the chains cold against his bare skin. When had they chained him to the table? Green bled into the white tiles, into the white of his jumpsuit. Of his gloves. The DP logo was gone and replaced by a gaping hole in his chest.

A hole.

In his.

In his chest.

"Struggle against me again, dog, and you'll get a lot worse than an electric shock."

"I'm not a dog," he whispered.

He wasn't a dog. They couldn't tell him he was. He wasn't a dog.

"They called you a dog, Danny?" the therapist asked, her clear voice piercing through the dense fog in his mind.

His head snapped up. He glared into the grays of her eyes. "I'm not a dog."

"I know, Danny." The therapist jotted down something in her notebook.

"I'm not a dog," he repeated, less sure of himself.

The therapist nodded again. "You're not," she affirmed.

"Right." Danny said awkwardly, his eyebrows creased in confusion. They sat for a minute in silence. Danny turned the stress ball around in his hands, focusing on the way the light of the office reflected against the matte rubber. It was soft, soothing. He pressed a finger into the ball, disrupting the flow of the light.

"So they took you into a room, right? Can you describe it for me?"

Danny tapped his fingers against the ball. "It was white. Like the others."

The therapist leaned in, resting her elbows on her knees. "Danny, are you okay to tell me what happened next?"

He shrugged. It didn't matter, anyways. He had to. His parents were paying good money to make sure he did. And the last thing he wanted was to let his family down. They'd already been through so much, with him being ripped away from his home so violently like he was. Jazz hadn't been able to leave visits without tearing up yet. And his mother...

Danny didn't know how to deal with his mother crying.

"They, uh, put me on—uh, I mean, they shocked me first." He risked a glance up at the therapist. He had her undivided attention. "And I went on this table. And...and then—uh—they...you know."

"What happened?" She said, her voice soft like velvet.

"You read the report," Danny said bitterly.

"I want to hear it from you."

Danny glared down at his lap. "They put me on the table and poked me with the metal stick. And laughed. And then...they...my jumpsuit—and. They took the scalp—" Danny choked, dropping the stress ball on the floor. His hands shot up and grabbed his hair. He bent down until his elbows mimicked the therapist's.

"I'm—I'm sorry." He rocked back and forth in his chair. "I'm sorry."

"Danny, it's okay. You in a safe place. Focus on my voice."

"I'm sorry," Danny gasped, struggling to slow the erratic air coursing through his lungs. In, out. In, out. He shut his eyes, chasing away the memories. Like a bad horror movie, they refused to stop. They flashed against his eyelids in random snippets. A flash of light as a new metal instrument was plucked from the table. The agents unzipping his jumpsuit and touching his bare skin. The white hot pain of his skin being peeled ba—

"That's right, Danny. Breathe. You're right here, in my office. You're safe. Focus on my voice. Breathe with me okay? In...and out. In….and out."

He was in the office.

"You're doing so great, Danny. Keep breathing with me. In...and out…and in…"

He was in the office.

"Danny, can you look at me?"

Breathe.

He was in the office. He was safe. In, and out. He needed to look at his therapist. She was there to help him.

His unfocused gaze shifted up to meet the steady eyes of his therapist. She smiled warmly at him. "Danny, you're doing so great. I know this is very difficult, and I'm proud that you're starting to open up with me. The things you're feeling right now are valid and okay. You don't need to apologize to me or anyone else about it, okay?"

In, and out.

"Yeah."

---

Danny arrived at the adolescent inpatient facility two weeks ago. He knows this because that's what the psychiatrists have been telling him. He also knows he came home from the GiW facility a month before that because he asked Jazz on the phone last week and she told him. And then she asked if he was okay and if he needed her to call a nurse and if he felt better on medication. He hung up and wheeled away, only for her to show up at the facility the next day furious for hanging up on her. Looking back, he knew it was a shitty thing to do. He just...couldn't handle her energy at the time.

"You're lucky your sister cares about you that much," a brunette boy told him stiffly, coloring in a mountain scene he'd outlined.

There wasn't much to do in the facility during free time, but one thing the hospital did provide is blank sheets of paper and markers. Some of the markers even had stamps on the other side. Danny found the yellow one with star-stamps last week, which quickly turned into his favorite marker. It didn't require much thinking, just a gentle press into the blank sheet of paper.

The other boy arrived a few days into Danny's stay. He was set to leave the facility next week, he said. He had a standard two-week stay. Suicide attempt, he'd told everyone during group therapy.

"My sister moved out when I was eight," the boy went on. "She comes around on holidays, but other than that I don't see her much. My family's not that close like yours is."

"Jazz is nice." Danny said. His therapist told him he needed to talk to the other patients more. But it was...weird. The other patients knew about Phantom. The whole world did. He was all over the news, apparently. Some of the other patients were starstruck that Danny Phantom of all people was here in the facility, but others were less happy. Some people refused to look him in the eye, glared at him when they thought he didn't notice. Others cowered from him, afraid he would beat them up for existing. Like the GiW did to him.

The boy paused his coloring. "You know, during...everything...she was on the news all the time, right? Demanding for the government to let you come home? She cares about you so much, dude. You're so lucky."

He felt something flare inside of him. "I'm not lucky."

The other boy looked up at him in surprise. "What?"

"I was locked up in a government facility for...for three weeks. How is—uh, how is that lucky?" Danny asked.

"I was saying that you're lucky your sister loves you so much, not that you became a walking experiment—"

"Shut up!" Danny was on his feet in an instant, his face red. "I'm not! I didn't ask for this! Shut up!"

"Boys!" Came one of the nursing assistants. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm sorry!" Danny yelled, his eyes wide.

"Phantom's gone crazy," the brunette said. Turning to Danny, he hissed, "I can't believe you were in charge of protecting—"

The nursing assistant held up her hands. "Devon, would you like to take a minute alone in your room?"

"No, I want to get back to my activity!" The brunette pointed at his paper. "It's not my fault Phantom's acting like an animal!"

The blood drained from his face. "I'm not a dog!" Danny yelled reflexively. His shaking hands flew up to grip his hair.

The nursing assistant held up a hand. "Danny, I know you're not. Would you like to come over here with me?"

No, he needed her to understand. She needed to understand. "I'm not a dog!"

Another staff member approached him. "That's right, Danny. Would you like to continue coloring with me?"

"I need to...to change." He mentally poked at his sleeping core.

"Change into what?"

He needed to get out. Leave. The walls in here were white. Who designed that? He was trapped. He couldn't breathe. He tried to transform again. "Why can't I change?"

"I think he's talking about his ghost," one of the staff members whispered to the other.

"It's not my ghost, it's me," Danny argued. "I can't...I can't find it. I need to—uh, to get out of here."

The bright lights glared down at him, and walls started to move in. A familiar weight appeared on his neck. No no, he wasn't back at the government compound. He was at the hospital. Breathe two three, out two three…

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the first staff member pick up the brunette's art supplies and move to another table.

"Do you remember when you got here?" the new staff member's voice was patient. "The hospital had to give you a chip that took away your...other side for a time. It'll be out as soon as you are ready to leave the hospital, I promise. Why don't you sit down and color with me, Danny?"

"I'll get it back?" Danny said, a hand automatically covering his chest where his core rested.

"Yes, Danny, once you complete this program," the nurse said. "Please sit down with me?"

"Okay," he said, removing his trembling hand slowly from his hair. "Okay."

He glanced around the room. People were looking at him. Some people seemed curious, but most appeared tense, as if they were plotting their escapes should he go on a murderous rampage.

He blew out a large stream of air and sat back down in his seat, suddenly exhausted. He tried to ignore the way the tension in the room immediately dissipated. He scowled, despite his best efforts.

The staff member slid a blank sheet of paper towards her. "What do you think I should draw, Danny?"

Danny shrugged and glanced around for the yellow stamp marker. It was on the floor. When did it fall?

She bent down and grabbed the marker from the floor. Handing it to him, she said, "I think I'll draw my favorite lake that my family likes to go to during the summer. What are you drawing, Danny?"

"Space. Or something," he said, poking the marker at his paper. Maybe he could make some constellations while he was at it.

"That's cool! Space is so interesting, and I love those markers. Something about using those stamps is just so relaxing, isn't it?" she asked.

Danny shrugged again.

"You want to work with NASA, right?"

Danny frowned. "I do…"

"You seem unsure," she observed.

"I just don't know if...you know...someone like me can be hired by them," Danny said. "It's not exactly a secret that people are afraid of me. You know? And after...everything…" Danny huffed, pausing his coloring and reaching for his hair once again. "My grades are awful I'm not...I mean, uh...I'm not exactly human. The...the government made sure to let me know."

She sighed. "Danny, don't—"

"But it's true, isn't it?" his wide eyes met hers. "That no one thinks of me as human? I mean, I—I know...like..I'm not but I still...I still want to be treated like one." An all-too familiar lump formed in his throat. "And I know what the other...other people...teens say here. They're all...all afraid of, uh...me. And I—I know the staff is too. Ghosts aren't...they're not—uh...mindless blobs of...of energy. We have thoughts and...stuff...feelings too. They're just...a...just different...I guess. But they're still there."

"None of the staff is afraid of you, Danny," she reassured. "If we were, you wouldn't be in this facility. But you're here because we and your parents want to help you. You've been through something really traumatic and everything you're feeling is normal and very human, okay? We all want what's best for you."

"Then why aren't I—uh, I allowed to go ghost?" Danny demanded. "Why do I have this...this...chip inside me?"

"Hospital policy against having weapons inside," the staff member told him. "You know this, Danny. It's not that we don't trust you, it's that we are responsible for everyone that passes through these doors. Including you. What if you use your powers to hurt yourself? What if you use them to leave? We can't have that." Her expression softened considerably as she added, "And I don't think this response is that surprising to you, right?"

No. It wasn't surprising. But that didn't mean he had to agree with it.

"Yeah, I guess."

"You can't control what others think of you based on the media, but by being a good person, which you are, you can change people's perceptions of you. And Danny, I don't think anyone here thinks badly of you."

His jaw tightened. "You're wrong."

"I think people may be initially apprehensive or nervous, but once people meet you it goes away immediately. People like you, Danny. You're a good person and it shows."

He was silent at that.

"Do you think you're a good person?" the staff member asked with a gentle voice.

"I don't know," Danny answered, refusing to meet her eyes. "I try to be. But I...I don't think...you know, I don't think it's working."

"But you still try, right?" she pressed.

"Yeah," Danny said.

"Then that's all that matters."

They continued coloring in silence for a while. Eventually, even Danny was forced to admit his night sky had more than enough stars in it. He flipped his sheet of paper around and starting drawing Saturn. He always liked the way Saturn looked with its rings and its swirling gas clouds. It was colorful, yet peaceful at the same time. If only he could see it in person.

Something wasn't right. Before, he didn't realize. But now, with the silence and the mindless energy of dotting stars against the night sky, he understood what was wrong. And before he could help himself, Danny blurted out, "I don't like that."

The staff member peaked over at Danny's drawing, "Your drawing of Saturn? It looks good to me."

Danny shook his head. "No. Not that."

The staff member stayed silent, allowing Danny to collect his thoughts. His brow furrowed, and he gripped the table as if that stability would someone help him form sentences faster. "I...don't like...being called an animal."

"Yeah?" the staff member asked, a clear prompt to continue.

"They...you know," Danny shifted uncomfortably. Before coming to the psych ward, his parents hardly made him talk about his experiences. They thought space was the answer. One month and several meltdowns later, his parents had realized that space was very much not the solution. Talking through issues with professionals was. Danny, despite his teen hormones still screaming at him to block everyone out, had to agree.

"Sorry," he apologized. "This is hard."

"It's okay. We have all the time you need here."

"I just—it's just like, uh...they never—they never called me by my name. Ever," Danny said awkwardly. "One of the nicknames they liked was—uh, was dog. Sometimes it was just animal though. Like...like they couldn't pick the worst one. I was all of them combined. I was...I was just an animal to them."

The GiW called him that right from the start. They hit his head in the van ride over to the facility, which they said was because they couldn't have him escaping, but Danny knew better. They dragged his dazed body through the maze that was their hallway system until they stopped at a pristine white door, identical to the other doors they passed on the way over in all manners except for its label. Alpha Priority Room.

"I'm that special?" Danny asked, his brave mask doing nothing to cover his trembling voice. The GiW had injected his body with some liquid on the way over, forcing him into Phantom form. He couldn't change back, no matter how hard he tried.

"Save it, ghost scum," one of the agents said as he swiped his card along the scanner next to the door.

The door hissed open, revealing a room no larger than a prison cell. The walls, ceiling, and floor was all white, and four security cameras sat upon the corners of the room. There were no lights on the ceiling, no windows overlooking the outside. Just whiteness.

The agent shoved him inside, and his weakened form could do little more than brace his impact to the ground. Danny rolled over just in time to hear the agent snarl, "You're government property now. No one can save you here. You're nothing more than a fucking animal to us."

The door closed, and Danny was encased in darkness.

---

chapter two

#danny phantom #phicc #lexx writes things #i tried #quality content

214 notes · View notes