Do you think on the ride home Dean took off his flannel and made Cas put it on to replace his bloody shirt?
“I really am alright, Dean. You don’t need to sit back here
Dean ignores Castiel’s reassurances, just like he has been
ignoring them for the last fifteen minutes.
“Cork it, Cas! Mom’s drivin’, Sam’s shotgun, and I’m back
here with you, makin’ sure you’re really holdin’ it together. That’s just
the way it’s gonna be so stop tryin’ to fight me on it!”
Both Mary and Sam give each other wide-eyed looks, but stay
quiet—knowing that Dean is still processing everything that had happened back
in the barn. He’s still drowning in the feeling of being out of control, and it’s
driving him absolutely nuts.
“Here, Ma” Dean grunts, shoving the Impala’s keys at the
woman and then turning back to tend to his angel.
She swiftly nods and takes the keys before ushering her
other son around the far side of the car—and then, all at once, they climb in
to join Castiel, who has already been carefully placed in the backseat by Dean’s
“Does it hurt anywhere?” Dean asks—slightly calmer now but
his voice still has a rattle to it.
“No, Dean. I’m feeling fine—just
like I said before.”
“Well, you don’t look
fine. You’re kinda pale. Sam, doesn’t he look pale to you?”
Sam turns around and gives Cas a sympathetic look before
shrugging silently at his older brother, knowing that his opinion doesn’t
really matter right now anyway.
“Yeah, see—Sam thinks
so. You should lean back a bit.”
“These seats don’t recline, Dean.”
Dean frowns at him. “Then scoot down a little! Jesus, Cas …
I’m just tryin’ to make sure you’re okay!”
“I am okay … I
have already told you—”
“Scoot down, Castiel!” Mary grits firmly from the front of the car—glaring at
him through the rearview mirror, eyes flicking back and forth between the angel
and her eldest son.
He wants to protest again, but then Castiel nods, finally
understanding that the only one not
fine right now, is Dean, and doing what he asks—no matter how pointless it is,
will make him feel a little better … a little more useful. Cas scoots down in
Dean smiles, happy that his friend is finally listening to
him. “Alright then … better?”
Castiel stops himself from rolling his eyes. “Yes … better.”
The proud smirk that immediately graces Dean’s face seems to
trim away the tension in the car—until the moment that the folds of Cas’s coat
fall away, exposing the dirty, blood-stained white button up beneath. “Oh … shit,
man! That looks bad!” the man yelps as soon as he sees it.
Castiel squints and cocks his head to the side, finally following
Dean’s eyes down to where the usually clean looking garment, is now a tattered
mess strewn about his body. “Oh. Yes, well … I can just—” Cas begins, already
lifting his hand to will the mess away, but he stops mid motion—cutting the
magic short because the man beside him is starting to fidget in his seat. “Dean?
What are you …”
Dean teeters back and forth, wriggling from side to side in
the confined space until he finally manages to free one of his arms from the
black coat and plaid overshirt that he’s wearing.
“Hold on … almost …”
Dean soon rocks all the way over until his head is practically in Cas’s lap—but
he doesn’t seem to notice because he’s too focused on freeing his other hand. “There!”
he yelps victoriously, finally holding up the plaid shirt for everyone in the
car to see.
Sam nods and Mary holds back a chuckle, and Cas just
continues to stare at the man—confused and slightly annoyed by everything that
“Okay, Cas. You’re
turn” Dean says after another moment, eventually turning happy eyes back on
“My turn?” Cas asks, feeling suddenly nervous about what he’s
expected to do.
“Yep” Dean chirps, looking Castiel up and down with a long
pull. “Strip and put this on.” He holds the flannel out towards him, but he
doesn’t hand it to the angel just yet, as if he’s planning on dressing him
himself … and at this point, Cas wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what Dean had
“Dean …” Castiel grumbles again, now—rolling his eyes for all to see. “You realize that I can fix
this, don’t you?”
Dean only grips the shirt tighter in his hand.
“I am an angel … I
have the power to—”
“Just put on the damn shirt!” All three Winchesters bark in
And that makes the angel finally throw up his hands in
defeat. “Alright!” he exclaims,
quickly sitting straight and leaning forward so that he can work his body free
from his coat. But before he can completely shimmy it off, Dean’s hands are on
him, fiddling with the buttons of Cas’s dirty white shirt. “Um … what are you
snaps, but his cheeks are turning red and his hands are starting to shake
against the angel’s chest.
Cas stares at him a moment, and then up to the front of the
car where Sam and Mary are vehemently avoiding eye contact with anything but
the road. So he turns back, just as Dean undoes the final button and pushes the
cloth aside, displaying every inch of Castiel’s unmarred skin.
The man then stills for some time—never looking away and
holding his breath until the second Castiel is finally able to speak.
“You see, Dean … I’m
Dean quirks up the side of his mouth, but his face quickly
falls flat again, while his eyes bounce away and back several times, seeming
torn as to where to look now.
After that, it only takes another minute for Cas to slip out
of the ruddy, old shirt and into Dean’s flannel—and for the first time since
they left the barn, Dean doesn’t interfere, nor do Mary and Sam act like
anything is happening just behind their heads. In fact, the frenzied tone of
their drive has seemed to mellow, and even Dean appears to have settled down;
although, his hands still twitch with the need for something to do … which
doesn’t go unnoticed by the angel at his side.
Castiel sighs, flicking his eyes down towards the soft plaid
that’s now draped over his own shoulders—the fabric is warm and smells like
Dean; so just as he begins to fasten the last two buttons, he purposely skips
one—so the thing is now bunching up across his stomach. “There” he confirms, drawing Dean’s focus back to the task at hand, and of course—Dean notices the mistake
“Ah—jeez, Cas …
you’re helpless, ya know that?” Dean mutters with a smile, reaching over eagerly
to straighten out the buttons and get them all in the right order.
But Castiel just smiles too, taking the moment to take in the
worried Winchester—his charge, his
family … a man that he loves—and he nods. “You’re
right. What would I do without you?”
N1: Realize it is raining. Be determined to go to Costco anyway. A little rain can’t stop you! Even though you don’t have a car. It’ll be okay. You’ll be fine. You’re tough. You’re tougher than this.
N2: Arrive. Be firm when people try to steal the cart you’ve been waiting for for several minutes. Be prepared to Renegade interrupt. You probably won’t hurt that old lady too much. Besides, she’s probably a Reaper agent. She’s got a look in her eyes. Don’t let her fool you.
N3: Maneuver through the front door. The faint of heart may turn back here. There’s no shame in this. Some people aren’t cut out for the higher N-levels. Walk through a bizarre blast of heat. Begin to sweat.
N4: Why, why, why on God’s green earth did you think Costco on a Sunday was going to be anything less than hell?
N5: You must survive this. You must go on. Do not become distracted by the people giving out free samples. No tiny square of cheese is worth standing in yet another line 20 people deep. You can do this. Your hunger is meaningless. You are being purified.
N6: Just when the end is in sight, the dreaded Line of Doom stretches before you. It is the most intense battlefield you have ever seen. Why is anyone buying so much smoked salmon? What could anyone need that much smoked salmon for? Realize the woman in front of you is already far more advanced that you: she is purchasing a swimsuit without having been able to try it on. Salute her. She is a brave, brave soul.
N7: Load your giant backpack. It seemed like such a good idea at home. Bring a backpack. It is huge. It belongs to your 6′3″ husband. This backpack now weighs half what you do. The Hackett in your head urges you on. Gasping, the weight of the universe on your shoulders, breathe, “What do you need me to do?” “Get on the Skytrain. Yes. That means making it up all those stairs,” says Hackett. “Hope that none of your orange juice cartons explode in there on the way home.”
Once home, wear your red stripe with pride as you survey your spoils. So many crackers. So many. So. Many. Eat some. With the cheese you fought so hard for.
J watched you carefully from his seat with Nicky. You knew
he hadn’t planned on coming to the party until someone invited you so he
followed, only leaving Nicky to swap out what ever had been placed in your hand
“You wanna get out of here?” Someone offered and you nodded,
letting them lead you past J whose eyes followed you, a furious look on his
Before he could follow you, insist that you waited for him
to take you home, Nicky moved her hand up his thigh, kissing him long enough to
lose you when he turned back you’d gone.
He spent most of the night looking for you before heading to
your house, climbing through your window to find you still weren’t home.
She’s the girl who always looks like she’s in a movie, the way she dances around the city, the way her hair flips as she turns back around to see if I’ve caught up, the way she twirls around because the air is so fresh on the mountain top, the way you see her nose so red she could be Rudolph from the frost because she leans in so close to the camera grinning, her cute little laugh on the cold Seattle nights we spend cuddled up on the couch watching movies, the way she dances it out with her best friend is just so refreshing that you really do want to get it on tape, but she actually is the girl you want to chase around the world with a camera because she is the definition of the not so perfect girl who you want to show the world to. Maybe everyone is secretly filming her and she’ll never know that she’s destined for the screen.
A week after their honeymoon, things had slowly turned back to normal for Jamie and Claire. They had had such a lovely time in Greece and had wished never to leave, but alas, they had responsibilities waiting for them back home. Claire went back to work at the hospital and Jamie resumed his job at the print shop, but they had returned renewed and sublimely happy.
“How was it, then?” Geordie asked, as he brought in a new ream of paper.
Jamie smiled to himself, remembering all the amorous adventures he had experienced with Claire in Greece, blushing at the thoughts that came to mind.
“That good, huh?” Geordie grinned widely, his eyes crinkled into triangles.
“Better than good, my friend. Claire is amazing. I’m so lucky to have her.”
“Aye, ye are. Now, when are ye going to bring her by? Marjorie has been wanting to have the two of you over for a grand dinner in yer honor.
“Oh, aye. We’d love to. We’ll arrange something soon.”
The men continued talking as they worked, Jamie filling Geordie in on their adventures in Greece…well, the appropriate ones, at least. As Jamie was regaling Geordie on the finer points of Greek culture, he felt his cell phone buzz in his pocket. Reaching absently to retrieve it, he glanced at the screen.
Claire: Hey babe, just got home from the hospital. Jillian called and wants us to meet her new beau. Dinner tonight ok?
Jamie: Aye, I’ll be leaving in about half an hour. I’ll come home and change and then we can go. Who is the guy?
Claire: Don’t know. Jillian is being rather mysterious about it. :)
Jamie: Ok. I’ll be home soon, love.
Jamie finished loading the last ream of paper into the printer, grabbed his coat from the back, and said goodbye to Geordie as he walked out the door.
Claire was putting the finishing touches on her evening ensemble. It wasn’t going to be a formal affair, but knowing Jillian, she would be dressed to the nines anyway. Claire had decided to wear the sexy little red number that she had worn on her first date with Jamie. She knew he loved it on her, and if truth be told, she was hoping it would have its usual effect on him and inspire his amorous attentions once they got home.
As if on cue, Jamie came in the back door as usual, laying his jacket across the back of the chair as he walked through the living room, making his way towards their bedroom to change. Seeing her, he leaned to kiss her softly, then his hands roamed down over her form appreciatively.
“Sassenach,” he said huskily, “ye look beautiful. If ye go to dinner tonight looking like that, ye are likely to distract Jillian’s new man. God, Claire…” He didn’t say anymore, but kissed her deeper, while squeezing her ample bottom through the crimson fabric.
Finally breaking free, Claire said, breathless, “Jamie, we need to leave soon and you’re distracting me. Plus you need to get dressed.”
He gave her one last squeeze and let go. “Alright, if I must.” He began unbuttoning his shirt. “So, what do ye know about this guy?”
“Jillian just said she is totally head over heels for him. He is just back in Scotland after a couple of years abroad. She says she met him at a bar while we were on our honeymoon and they hit it off.”
“Jillian could hit it off with any man,” Jamie said, chuckling. “She’s certainly proven that. How many boyfriends has she had over the last year?”
Claire laughed, “You’re right at that, I’ve lost count.”
Later, as they were making their way to the restaurant where they were all to meet, they drove by the gardens where they’d gone on their first date.
“Do ye remember that night, Claire?” Jamie said, nodding toward the gardens.
“How could I forget it? I was so nervous, you know.”
“I was too. God, I must’ve paced a hundred times before knocking on your door that night.”
“And now here we are,” Claire said, placing her hand on his leg, “married and incredibly happy.”
“Aye, we are.” He leaned to give her a quick kiss, trying to keep his eyes on the road at the same time.
Claire leaned her head on his shoulder as they continued driving. “I wonder if it’s possible for someone like Jillian to have a love like ours, I mean, she does go out with a lot of guys and none of them ever seem to touch her heart on a deeper level.
Jamie knew what she meant. He and Claire had something different, not the usual thing at all. He felt in his bones that what they had was one of a kind, a gift so unique and precious, something to be cherished. He thought that no one, particularly someone like Jillian, could ever have a love like theirs.
A few minutes later, they made it to the restaurant. They checked in with the greeter, who guided them through the dining room toward the table where Jillian was already sitting. As they approached, Claire felt Jamie’s hand tighten in hers and thought she heard a distinct intake of breath. She looked up at him in concern and leaned to whisper, “Are you ok?”
Jamie composed himself as best he could. “Aye. I’ll do.” He had recognized the man as soon as the stalwart form came into sight, seated next to Jillian. He couldn’t believe it. Of all the men she could have picked, it would have to be him.
They reached the table and greeted the couple. Jillian turned and said, “Claire, Jamie, I’d like to introduce you to—”
“Dougal,” Jamie said, a bit coldly.
Jillian’s eyes widened and she looked between two men. “You know each other?”
“Aye, lass, ye could say that.” Dougal seemed to find the situation amusing, although the grin on his face didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Aye,” said Jamie, “he’s my uncle.”
It was Claire’s turn to gasp. “Your uncle?”
For a moment there was a stunned silence, but finally Jillian broke the tension. “Well, I knew there was something I admired about you, Dougal. You have the most striking resemblance to our lovely lad here,” she said, turning her eyes to Jamie.
Dougal chuckled. “Aye, he’s rather a handsome lad. He definitely takes after the Mackenzie side of the family.”
“I like to think I got the best of both of my parents’ heritage. Ye never liked my Da though, did ye?” Jamie said, coldly.
“Well, ye ken how he took off with Ellen and knocked her up before we could find her a proper husband.”
Claire gasped. Jamie’s fist tightened on the table, rage bubbling up beneath the surface.
“I’ll thank ye to not talk ill of my Da. He loved my mother very much. Still does.”
“I meant no disrespect to ye, lad, but it’s the truth.”
“Perhaps it’s a truth that need not be discussed in present company, and certainly not in this setting,” Jamie said, gaining control over his emotions.
“Ye are right, lad,” Dougal said, “we shouldn’t be talking about the past, we should be celebrating your nuptials”. He motioned to the waiter and ordered champagne. After the glasses were full, he raised his in a toast. “To the happy couple. Congratulations!”
They all toasted and eventually the change of subject and the alcohol helped temper Jamie’s mood. For the rest of the night, they talked about neutral topics, never venturing again into dangerous territory. They actually ended up having a good time, despite the initial awkwardness. At the end of the night, they all said their goodbyes and promised to meet again soon.
Dougal helped Jillian into her coat as they followed Claire and Jamie out the front door of the restaurant. As the other couple reached their car, Dougal couldn’t help but admire Claire. There was something about the lass that he found intriguing. She was intelligent, to be sure, but there was also a fire he could see under the surface. A fire he found very appealing. He watched her as she leaned to get in the car, her short skirt accentuating those impossibly long legs. His heart raced at the sight and he couldn’t stop himself from imagining those legs wrapped around him. Suddenly he realized that he was staring and shook himself as he reached for Jillian’s hand and led her to his car.
Jamie had seen the look in Dougal’s eyes. That look was predatory, even menacing in its way. He knew his uncle had always been a ladies’ man, but Claire was one lady that he would never get his hands on. Jamie would make sure of that.
Summary: Harrison hadn’t expected to fall in love with how someone says his name, but it happened.
Warnings: Slight smut (It’s honestly nothing but a heated make out session) and a little angst
“My name’s Harrison, but people call me Haz.” He stuck his hand out towards you, “Haz.” You repeated as you shook his hand lightly. The way you said his name resonated in his mind. He had never thought that he could love the way someone would say his name, but every time his name tumbled out of your lips, he was infatuated. He thought it could be just the alcohol getting to him, but he was intoxicated just by the sight of you. You turned your attention back to the drunken Tom who had introduced you two. He watched as your fingers tucked a piece of hair behind your ears, you laughed at Tom’s foolish actions. His heart soared once again.
Okay first of all can I just say I absolutely LOVE your blog, second of all I wondered what your opinion on the situation and general hate surrounding Jack and his video personally I disagreed with him and what he said regarding Felix and basically defending the media but he straightened things out on Twitter and I respect that and see that he wasn't "stabbing him in the back" as most people are accusing him of doing, however I respect your opinion and want to know what you think about this.
I honestly didn’t agree with much he said, but I didn’t see it as him backstabbing Felix…opinions differ from person to person, doesn’t mean he’s turning his back on his friend
OMG. I did a Lee thing today. I started reading a book by an author friend. He sent me a DM on Twitter and I just had dinner, a chat and time after working most of the day with Thranduil. Not bad actually, so far. I had a fever for a couple days, so I spent most of that writing in a notebook and doing elven stuff.
Finally, when my fever broke today, I felt better and did some typing. My Dad’s obsession of calling me all day started last weekend so we had to put him on a schedule so I can work and spend time with him (and show him that Lee wears pants). Probably got sick worried about him. But reading a book with pages was cool. I mean, I do it all the time but it has been awhile reading non-Tolkien stuff. So I had a minute. I can read as many pages as I write so I have to stop myself to take meds.
So there I was, reading a book and posting on Facebook about it. I’ve been around Lee and Thranduil way too long. Might end up talking books one day. That would be weird.
Book: Pieces Like Pottery by Dan Buri. Not done yet. Just started. I also read some of The Janus Chronicles Book I by Patrick David Daley (nice guy that likes The Kingdom of the Woodland Realm Trilogy). Oh, God. Lee’s rubbing off on me. Get him off (say that without throwing something at me).
The bitter air of London whips around my practically bear legs. My mother had always told me not to stand outside if you aren’t properly clothed. But I have never been one to listen to what my sister says.
I hear the creak of the sliding door open and close behind me. I didn’t bother to turn around, knowing exactly who it was that had come outside.
“Y/N?” I hear a gentle voice behind me say. I turn around and see a sleepy looking Jack Maynard standing in his underwear, similar to myself. I smile softly at him and turn my attention back to the night sky. I watch as the stars and the moon hypnotize me. I feel Jack wrap his warm arms around my waist.
“Bad dream?” He says kissing my neck softly. He breath warming me up. I nod my tear-streaked face against his chest, his smell calming me down. “You’re safe now, they can’t hurt you anymore, I’m right here,” Jack says already knowing what my dream was.
“It’s changing,” I whisper turning around to face him. His dark eyebrows drawing together, He runs one of his hands through his messy hair.
“They don’t hurt me anymore, they hurt you,” I whisper tears falling from my eyes, “I watched as you died.” I break down sobbing.
Jack’s hands tighten around me pulling me closer to him, supporting me. My knees give out and soon Jack and I are sitting on the floor. I feel kisses being prepped across my shoulder. My sobs slow down and we are just sat there holding each other. I feel wetness appear on my shoulder.
“Please don’t cry,” I croak out.
“I’m so sorry that I couldn’t protect you from them,” He whispers.
“You weren’t there you couldn’t have helped me,” I kiss his neck softly.
“But I should have been there, I blame myself for it,” He says voice thick with unshed tears.
I pull my head out of his neck to look into his eyes watching as the silent tears fall from his eyes. I place my lips to his. The kiss tasting of salt from out tears.
“Can we go back to bed now?” I place my head on his. He nods picking me up and walking through the door and back into our shared bedroom. He places me down onto the bed and kisses me softly.
When Bart Allen crash lands in the present, it’s strange, and he’s strange, but Danny has long been used to strange. He bobs his head when the YJ team relates to him what Bart had said about the future; his eyes closing when the knot in his chest releases at the telling of Impulse’s future. He’s not a monster.
Bart screams the first time that he sees Phantom.
Dan glances up at the natural portal over his head, double checking that it was indeed still open, the Infi-map thrumming in his belt. He turns his gaze back to the workers laboring away.
Blue looks up at him, squinting into the empty space created by invisibility. Dan knows well enough now that the Reach suit can read the ecto-magnetic signature of his core. That had been established decades ago. The psionic cannon whirs, and Dan grins, flickering into view; red eyes dancing with mirth and revenge.
Dan’s howl neutralizes the blast; the air vibrates with the tension of conflicting sound waves.
Small things here and there trip Bart up. A comment here, a sidelong glance, stiffening abruptly when Phantom phases through the wall, staring a little too long at Danny (both human and ghost) as if he’s trying to catalog the differences. Danny’s skin prickles and flashes of the desolated landscape from his future echo.
He relates these to Tucker and Sam; they vaguely remember the incident through a fog, but they nod and write down the instances that Danny lists. The journal confirms Danny’s suspicions that Bart is lying about his role in the future.
An electric blast from Black Beetle illuminates Dan’s frame, highlighting the glowing scar that sit across his chest, slipping across his collarbones and bisecting the insignia. Dan remembers dying; he remembers the pain and distress at watching GIW and Reach scientists alike poke and prod. He remembered his human side violently rejecting him, barring him control while it slipped out of the black hazmat and into civilian clothes to bleed out and find rest. Phantom, the halfa now dead, remembered their names and faces.
He didn’t kill them. He just worked to be a constant nuisance, a thorn in their side. He was angry, yes, but he refused to become that creature from his nightmares. It was a line he’d drawn. Helping out the workers made him feel better, overshadowing them to share his strength and let them rest for a moment.
That was how he’d found Vlad, actually. The older halfa had been doing much the same. Plasmius’s eyes had echoed the loneliness Phantom felt inside as they discussed how he’d come to be captured, how the Reach tech had learned to corrupt both Valerie and Jazz’s suits. The discussed the era of the fallen heroes. It was nice to reminisce even if those memories were tainted with anger and revulsion from how those heroes had been vanquished. Plasmius asks after the specifics, and Phantom state–as a distraught Vlad had told him in a future so many years ago–that some things are better left unsaid.
Time ticks on. Both are acutely aware of Clockwork’s radio silence.Vlad ceases to aide as Plasmuis now that the Reach follows him everywhere. Apparently, they finally deemed Luthor’s files worth a read. Vlad has not been a young man for years, and now Phantom helps as he does with the laborers, sometimes overshadowing Vlad through the worst of it. He works carefully to avoid expelling him as Point Dexter did so many, many adventures ago (was that even him? it couldn’t have been).
Dan remembers dying then too, the feel and slide of Vlad’s body tiring, how it felt to lose that last vestige of humanness and how the collapse into a single wavelength of their two separate ghostly cores rippled across their (his?) being. He remembered how the grief and loss resonated through and that spark of defiance and vengeance hollowly drove at him.
Dan Plasmius was a ghost that killed. He razed the testing labs, freeing as many of the Metas as possible, but ultimately, he wasn’t willing to sacrifice his existence. Dying twice (4 times technically including the accidents) does that to you. There was a speedster there; Dan swallowed down the nostalgia that came from that.
Bart evades Danny like it’s his job.
Danny hunts him down like he’s freaking Skulker or something. Probably more like Walker honestly. He has to know though. He has too!
He can’t go into this fight not knowing if at any second he’s going to trigger his change into Dan Phantom. Danny can’t go through that again with this family.
Clockwork’s intervention isn’t what he’d expected. Be drastic. Be bold. Be enough of a ‘rival’ bad guy to create a scientific time travel back.
Blatant support to misuse the rule of the Ghost Zone? Granted. Dan doesn’t atriculate the unease in his core as he reestablishes himself as ruler of the ghost zone. His memories as Plasmius call this hollow, but Dan shrugs his discomfort off and works at it. The Phantom memories balk at being trusted with so much power and responsibility, and Dan soothes that away with a reminder that they’re not 14 anymore, that they have experience and know the risks and rewards.
Being a hero is hard. Knowing that this is the best way is even harder.
Under new management. That’s your threat. You challenge and harass the Beetles and the Reach. You talk up how much better the Ghost Zone is doing (which it is). You make sure that the laborers (slaves, Plasmius corrects) can always see your confrontations. You thrum in sympathy because you know that you’re making their lives harder. You know that you have the potential to start an apocalypse, but that’s not who you are.
You don’t care anymore how the people see you; you’re too focused on fighting the Reach. You overshadow Blue Beetle and Jaime’s psyche welcomes you with shock and relief and so many emotions that you can’t even comprehend them.
The scarab changes its electrical signal shortly after and Dan Plasmius is thrown away. There’s a speedster that watches this, and Dan aches in pity of his former teammate. He doesn’t leave the Ghost Zone again.
Getting Bart to talk legitimately takes a trip to Clockwork. Danny taps his fingers while Bart makes his feet thrum on the floor. Clockwork’s been ignoring them, flitting through his castle and choosing to do other things instead. Danny jumps when on one of the passes, the time ghost sets a dented (still sealed, thank god still sealed) thermos on a table just beside them.
“We’ve been expecting you.”
Dan Plasmius glances around (between the younger half him and the speedster, between clockwork and the sealed thermos, and all around).
“I guess I owe you an explanation,” he directs to the ginger, “Surely, you’ve figured out now, that I’m just 90% talk with the power to back it up.”