I completely forgot I wrote a fic called "Baby Cartoon Expo" until someone left a comment on it. Surreal experience. I was like "I have no memory of writing a fic called that" and then opened it and was like "ah. yes i did."
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♫ Frank Castle and platonic relationships here please: Foggy & Matt, Matt & Maggie, Jess & Trish. Thank you x :)
Uh… so for some reason tumblr refuses to let me add the actual tracks… sorry friend but I’ll just write them out. 😔
Frank — Frankie boy… its probably because of the shows use of guitars and country rock vibes but Johnny Cash always comes to mind when I think of Frank.
Okay I’m giving him two because they just fit so well. First up, Sad Frank™️
Hurt by Johnny Cash
Second, the Punisher intro sounds nearly identical to this song and it’s truly Frank in essence. Vengeful Frank™️
God’s Gonna Cut You Down by Johnny Cash
Foggy & Matt — I remember seeing a edit with this song for Nelson vs Murdock Foggy and Matt and I literally can’t think of this song and not think of them. It’s their song now 🤷♀️
Matt & Maggie — This song always breaks my heart and is how I imagine Matt forgave Maggie so quickly.
Jess & Trish — Okay this is kinda a joke, kinda not. 😂 But I just think of these two when I listen to this one.
Jack Fenton sat down in the uncomfortable chair, his bulk moving slowly and carefully to avoid scaring the girl sitting on the other chair. There was something odd about her, the way she held herself, the little glances out of the corner of her eye, the way her hair didn’t quite fall right. Jack couldn’t quite stop himself from cataloging all the little differences about her, even as he tried to stop himself and see her as just a girl. A girl in need of help. “Hi,” he said, keeping his voice gentle.
“Hello,” she said.
Jack opened his mouth to say something more, but nothing came out. He couldn’t think of anything to say. He let his mouth close again, his lips twisting in frustration. There was certainly plenty that needed to be said.
“Why are you here?” the girl asked, her thin fingers digging into the cushion of the chair. Although her knuckles turned white with the pressure, the stiff vinyl didn’t seem to notice the effort her hands were putting in.
“I like Seattle,” Jack said. “Nice city. Always wanted to do the haunted tour…” He trailed off, wondering if bringing up ghosts was, perhaps, a bad idea.
She scoffed. “Seattle’s not haunted.” The IV machine she was hooked up to beeped loudly, and the girl flinched. She studied it for a moment before sighing and sinking back against the hard chair. “That’s not what I meant. I called Danny, not you.”
“Danny couldn’t come.” Jack sort of fudged the truth. Danny could come. Danny had come. But not being 18 yet, the hospital didn’t particularly care what Danny had to say in the matter, requiring Jack’s presence. “I’m here to help.”
“I don’t want your help,” she said, shoulders crunching up around her ears.
Jack shrugged, falling silent, watching the girl glare around the small room. He had only the briefest of explanations as to who this girl was - a genetic malfunction, an aberration, a splintered example of a not-quite-human - and he understood almost none of it. His gaze fell to his bag, and he reached down, pulled out his latest needlework project, and quietly got to work. Jazz had said to do that when he was at a loss for words. She’d thought it might be helpful.
It was nearly twenty minutes of silence, the girl watching him slowly work through his project, before she spoke. “What is that?”
“It’s going to be a quilt,” Jack said, turning the scrap of fabric so she could see a bit better. “All the different types of ghosts from stories around the world. This one’s a banshee. Sits under windows and cries and screams, usually associated with someone dying.”
She studied it. “You’re… pretty good at that.”
“Lots of practice,” Jack said with a shrug.
“You don’t seem like… like a guy that would do something like that. Art stuff.”
“It’s calming and good for the mind,” Jack said, tying off the string and picking out a new color. “Jazz got me started on it years and years ago. I’m hoping to have the whole thing done by August, so I can put it in the county fair.” He chuckled. “I won’t win, not compared to the artwork of other people, but it’ll be nice to finish a project.”
Her eyes were blue, just like Danny’s. But there was a shadowed, haunted feel to them - and a blankness that hurt Jack’s heart.
Perhaps Danny was right. Maybe Maddie should have come instead.
The IV machine beeped again, and this time a nurse knocked and entered the room. “Hello,” he said, walking over to check the machine. “The battery on your IV is getting low. Gotta plug it in.” He smiled at her, holding out a hand. “Back to the bed, please.”
The girl sighed, but reached out for the assistance. She was unstable and barely able to hold her own weight. It was only a few steps, but Jack had to bite back the offer to carry her. She settled against the bed - too skinny, too broken, too empty - and laid her head on the pillow.
Jack was quiet as the nurse fussed for a few minutes, plugging in the IV machine, taking her blood pressure and temperature, setting the blanket over her legs.
Then he turned to Jack. “Parent?” he asked.
Jack wondered how to answer that. He set down his needlework, dug a paper out of his bag, and held it out. It was fake, of course; there were no real legal documents in the world for her. But the stamp was real, and the judge’s signature was real, and that was enough. “Legal guardian, for now.”
The girl on the bed flinched.
The nurse glanced at the papers. “As of yesterday, huh?” he asked. “Nice to meet you, Mr Fenton. Wanna chat in the hall?”
Jack leveraged himself out of the chair and followed the man into the hallway. “She’s going to be okay?” he asked.
“Eventually,” the nurse said, walking him to a quiet alcove. “How do you know her?”
“She’s a relation,” Jack said, trying to avoid being specific. “Her and my son are very close, although I haven’t had any real contact with her yet. She called him two days ago and we’ve been figuring out how to best help her.”
The nurse nodded. “She was found in a park, unconscious. Came in massively dehydrated, malnourished.” The nurse glanced around, his voice quiet. “She’s not saying much, but she definitely hasn’t been treated right.”
Jack frowned.
“I’ll send the doctor along, but it doesn’t seem like there’s anything permanently wrong with her, physically anyways. Really fragile mentally.” The nurse frowned. “The police have been around a few times to chat with her. Don’t think she’s said much to them. She’s in for a long road.”
Jack glanced over his shoulder, through the cracked-open door. She was picking at her sheets, staring at the sky through the window of the room. She looked so small. Twelve years old. Her third year of being twelve, if Danny’s explanation was right. And she’d be twelve until her broken body stopped working, whether that was next week, or five years from now, or ten, or twenty. “Anything else I should know?”
“Gentle, slow, careful. She’s a nice girl, when you can get her to talk. I’ll be around every fifteen minutes or so, checking on her.”
“Can she have visitors?”
The nurse hesitated, but then nodded slowly. “If there’s one or two people you think would do her good, I can’t see how that would hurt.”
“My son will probably scale the outer walls and sneak through the window if you try to keep him out any longer,” Jack said with a smile. “He’s worried out of his mind about her. He can probably get her to talk like nobody else.”
“Sounds great. You let me know if she needs anything,” he said.
Jack stood in the hallway for a long minute, trying to decide what he would say. From what little Danny had told him, the girl had been literally programmed to hate him. Created, somehow, in a lab from a mix of Danny’s genetic material, donor tissue from the corpse of a dead girl, and a ghost. Created and programmed, like a computer, for a task - to be used and then thrown away.
He walked closer, standing in the door, frowning at how little of the bed her frame took up. Her arms were too skinny against the hospital blanket - almost skin and bone. Whoever had created her had certainly not taken care of her.
She noticed his gaze, turning to study him with those sunken, haunted blue eyes. “You don’t have to be here,” she said.
Jack hummed, walked in, and dropped back down into his chair. The vinyl squeaked. “I want to be.”
“Because Danny told you to.” She sounded sullen. “It’s okay to hate me, you know.”
“I don’t hate you,” Jack said, surprised at the thought. Where had she decided that he hated her? What had he done to make her think that?
“I hate you,” she shot back, eyes narrowing. She leaned forwards a little. Little sparks of green shone against the blue.
Jack shrugged. “Join the club,” he murmured. He rested his arm on the bed, but drew away when she flinched away from him.
“I don’t want you to touch me,” she snapped, clearly uncomfortable.
He nodded and kept his arms to himself, careful to keep his arms to the small armrests. “I plan on sticking around, just so you know. And Danny’s planning on stopping again by after school.” He picked up his needlepoint, studying the messy shadowing job he’d done with a frown.
“Again?” came her soft voice after a minute of silence.
“He was here… day before yesterday,” Jack said, squinting at the banshee’s arm and trying to decide the easiest way to fix it. “You were out cold, and the hospital wouldn’t look twice at a 17 year old. Came and got me instead.”
“He told you who I am, right?”
“Yup.” Then Jack shrugged a half-shoulder. “Okay, a little. Getting anything out of Danny is only slightly easier than storming Fort Knox.” He grinned at her. “I got that you’re important to him, and that you’re family, and that I can help. That’s enough.”
“I’m a monster, you know that,” she said.
Jack pointed at his needlepoint. “This is a monster. You look like a scared young woman in need of some help. Maybe you’re not as human as me, but that doesn’t make you a monster.”
She bristled, but didn’t respond.
Jack let the quiet last for a few minutes, slowly fixing the bad shadowing on his banshee.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” she said.
He glanced at her. She’d drawn her knees up to her chest, and was hugging them close. She looked lost and broken, and somehow even smaller and younger than before. “I don’t want anything from you,” he said, confused.
She frowned.
“Danny said you wouldn’t trust me,” Jack said, deliberately keeping his gaze on his needlepoint. Jazz had been correct in packing it for him - it did seem much easier for the girl to talk when he wasn’t staring at her. “But you can, you know. Jazz has already cleaned out her bedroom for you, and Danny-”
“Bedroom?” she asked.
Jack blinked at her. “Room. With a bed in it.”
She scowled. “I know what a bedroom is-” she cut herself off, like she was going to say something more. She let out a breath through her nose. “You make it sound like I’m coming to live with you.”
“You are!” Jack grinned. “See, we got the legal-”
“I’m not coming to live with you,” the girl snapped. “We’ve been over this. I hate you. I don’t trust you. Why should I live with you?”
Jack twisted his mouth into a half-frown, turning his eyes back to his needlepoint. “Why wouldn’t you?”
“Take off your gloves.”
Jack hesitated. He didn’t take off his gloves. “Why?”
“Because I’m a monster. I’m contaminated. I’m broken, and seeping radioactive liquid, and, and, and I can hurt you just by touching you.” Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see her eyes burning a toxic, horrible green. “And I want you to take off your gloves.”
He watched the way the light gleamed off the black glove, slowly twisting his fingers. He didn’t take off his gloves. He just didn’t. Since learning how contaminated Danny was, Jack had even gone to great lengths to not touch his own son.
But Jack knew, in the depths of his being, that Danny wasn’t a monster. And neither was this girl. Yes, she could hurt him with just a touch. But...
Slowly, he took off one of his gloves. His skin was extremely pale, fingers a bit wrinkled from the moisture inside the gloves. His fingernails were in need of clipping. He flexed his fingers and ran them over the intricate stitching of his needlepoint, feeling details he couldn’t through the gloves.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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@it-refused HAPPY BIRTHDAY DUDE! Thanks for reblogging many pictures and headcanons that make me smile. :3 have a birthday Papyrus, since I just saw your headcanon and decided to draw him. Hope you have a great day!
