#He can see exactly how much hatred Danny has in his eyes when he looks at Bruce | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

five-rivers · 3 years

Note

Now i would like to see prompts of a curious benevolent eldritch being coming to visit Amity Park and coo at the baby eldritch (Danny) and tech him how to access his eldritch powers.

I know this is probably supposed to be about some more traditional and tentacle-y eldritch abomination, but this is essentially what I’m writing Grandfather Clocks as (not to mention assorted other oneshots and everything happening in Mortified). I’m too invested in Lost Time to clearly imagine anyone but Clockwork in the Adult Eldritch Abomination role... at least from a more general prompt like this one.

... on the other hand I now have Vague Ideas (tm) about a full AU where Danny has eldritch abomination powers instead of ghost powers and all the eldritch abominations he’s ‘fighting’ are just coming to play with the baby.

WARNING this is for real written as horror, since it’s from Danny’s perspective.

Time seemed to congeal as the shadow in Danny’s soul stretched backwards. This one had a name. It skittered between the dark and the part of Danny’s mind that still resembled a human’s. He breathed in, slowly, then out, tasting it on his tongue. Once, it had been two.

Finally, it coalesced into something he could actually speak. “Skultech,” he said.

“Relative of Skulker?” asked Tucker. “Or Technus?” He didn’t look at them or at Danny. He had protections, but they weren’t perfect, and he’d already taken a step away from the light.

“Yes,” said Danny, internally translating the vibrations of air into something with meaning and weight.

Skulker. The hunter, fleshless and tireless. A pursuer of the mind more than the body. Almost sporting in his own way. The library with all its labyrinthine but immaterial paths was the best place to lose him.

Technus. A horror that lurked in the depths of the internet, luring in deep-web users and more than a few unluckly click-bait and phishing victims. Technus didn’t kill them, did very little to them, really, but there was a reason there wasn’t a computer club at Casper High anymore.

They had been two. Now they were one. Part of Danny was fascinated. Another was thrilled, happy, as it always was when these dark things manifested themselves in Amity Park.

His shadow stretched, whispering over his features. He could feel curl over the texture of the ground beneath him, grasping at grass and bark and soil as if it were possessed of a thousand thousand tiny fingers. It wanted to open up and play.

(’It,’ Danny said, as if it weren’t him, an extension of himself.)

“What do we do?” asked Sam. She, unlike Tucker, looked directly at him, even half-shrouded in shadow as he was. She always did, even if she averted her gaze from the likes of Skulker and Technus.

Near the beginning, Sam had made the connection between the others, especially ones like Ember, who were as beautiful as the were dark, and cults. She had started a joke about making one for Danny. Over time, it had become less of a joke.

Danny tried to ignore the pleasant buzz of his skin as he imagined a cult attempting to do something as sweet as bind him to their will.

Because, really, he shouldn’t be thinking of something like that as ‘sweet’ at all.

“It’s still Skulker and Technus,” said Danny, even if he had never seen them like this. “I think... the same type of thing should probably work. I distract, Sam gets people out of the way, Tuck, you get the computers at the library ready and tell me when to lead them there?”

“Do you think it’ll really work when it’s both of them?” mumbled Tucker. “I don’t know if I can even do both of the things at once...”

“The alternative is not doing anything,” said Sam, “and considering that they seem to be after Danny...”

Tucker made a face, the glow from his PDA reflecting from his glasses. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t try.”

“Remember,” said Danny, “don’t give me the go-ahead until you and everyone else is out.”

“Yeah, I remember, I remember,” he said.

“Go do your thing,” said Sam.

Danny nodded and left the shelter of their hiding place. He did not stand up, or walk, or move. He simply stopped being there and started being in front of Skultech.

From a distance, he probably still looked human.

They fought.

It was hard to describe how they fought, exactly, in human terms, but they did. Right up until one of Skultech’s three-fingered hands wrapped around Danny’s ankle and his shadow vanished.

He, breathing hard and falling, remembered what it was to be human. To be vulnerable. His shadow came back to him, flickering. He came back to himself.

There was a darkness that was himself, and he was so relieved. Why? How often had he wanted this gone? But he was whole, and like that he was half, and-

He’d gotten distracted.

Skultech had surrounded him, a hunting ground strobed with lightning. This kind of fight was an oddity to both Skulker and Technus, this kind of movement, this kind of strategy. Danny began to doubt that his earlier plan would work.

What was a library but another kind of forest?

With only enough warning for his self to wrap around him protectively, Skultech yanked him down into the Dream. The pale seaweed threads of human consciousness gave way to the dark and the other. He fell to the floor of a midnight palace and rolled to his back, coughing up not-water from the idea of his lungs.

Here, said Skultech, in something that wasn’t quite language. The True Voice. Danny had seen people fall to their knees when the others used that. Had seen sane men turn into blind faith worshippers. Had heard lies that became true in the speaking, or near enough that it didn’t matter.

He had never quite managed to speak that way himself, no matter Sam’s cajoling.

Danny managed to open his eyes. He did not come to the Dream often, no matter how much it called to him. Both his halves agreed, here, where every place was also a person, it was dangerous even in the shallows.

The ceiling was covered in layers upon layers of spiderwebs, and he did not like what that meant. Skultech was nowhere to be seen.

He pulled himself up and got to his feet.

The floor beneath him was glass. Beneath that was clockwork, but the gears were galaxies and solar systems, the springs were entropy and enthalpy, and the chains were the laws of physics themselves. Clockwork. It was... It would do, as a name.

The distant sense of amusement was disturbing.

Danny looked around. He needed a way out, a way back up, to where he could leave the Dream.

Why did Skultech bring him here?

Spiderwebs and gears. Symbols of control, of interconnectedness, of carefully laid plans. Was he stuck in a web he couldn’t see?

He spun, slowly, trying to see if he could see any doors or other openings. Something flashing, moving, in the distance caught his eye. His first instinct was to move away, but...

But it was like he was being drawn in. Like he couldn’t turn away. It was a mirror. A window.

It showed him himself. At first, a hundred paces away, just himself, as he was, but then at pace ninety-nine it changed. Mirrors did that, in the Dream. Everything did that, in the dream.

Time sped up. The mirror reflected not just light, but sound and feeling. He could see himself, his shadow, and-

He felt it when all the little Loves that kept him tethered to his humanity snapped, the lives they were anchored to burning up as they met their deaths. He screamed and heard it echoed back to him a thousand times over.

He could not stop walking. He could not stop watching. Ninety steps away.

His shadow in the mirror was wild. Unbound and grieving. Flesh and blood and bone existed, but his two part mind was unbalanced and divided from itself. He sought aid from the only other like himself and received a knife, received Hate to replace love and at seventy-five steps he watched as what he had once been embraced Vlad and devoured him whole, eating and becoming everything that made him him.

The shadow unfurled, hungry and seeking. The memory Love it once had and the Love it had desired for so long driving it onward and outward, the center pulsing like a diseased star. Seventy steps. It had eyes like constellations.

The mirror showed the Dream, now. Veins of sickness wound through the garden of human thought, through the tangled vines and twisted paths. What it found did not satisfy, and it sought more, and more, delving deeper. Sixty steps, then fifty.

It ate at the best of people, of others. The singers fell silent. The doctors could no longer heal. The kind became cruel.

Darkness fell. Then war. The shadow ruled all from its misery.

It was not enough.

Forty steps. It’s eyes met Danny’s. It knew he was here, knew he was watching. It began to speak in its True Voice, and Danny could not cover his ears to keep it out.

It spoke of the things it had done, of the things it would do. Danny watched as it carried out its plans, and even more. It spoke of how it, he, was Danny, and all this destruction, all this suffering was wrought by his own hands. It spoke of Love Danny did not cherish sufficiently, of fragility, of how it was determined to Be rather than Be Not even though its every moment was loneliness and Hatred to the point of agony.

Danny’s ears were bleeding.

Thirty steps.

It spoke of how it would hurt Danny, in particular. How it would rend his shadow, wound so there was no hope for him to escape his fate, even with foreknowledge of it. It spoke of how, with Danny watching, the mirror was a window, was a door it could reach through and Danny saw it reaching.

Saw it reaching out and in and towards now and those that he Loved, those that he cherished and Danny would have pushed himself to run but he couldn’t stop walking.

Twenty steps. It could make itself look like Danny, and even though it was wrong, Danny was wrong too, he was so, so, so, wrong and his wrongness was going to get them killed. It was going to get everyone killed.

They were looking at it, not him, speaking with it, not him. His darkness was covered. With it, these things were like staring at the sun.

It tore away the protections he had so painstakingly layered over those he Loved.

Ten steps.

He saw his parents with a bomb made by their own hands, one that would devastate the Dream for miles around, killing anything that dared to imagine, the culmination of their work. Nine steps. He saw Mr. Lancer writing lesson plans with his own blood, each sentence less English than the last. Eight steps. He saw Sam with the ritual knife, her smile full of blood and sacrifice. Seven steps. He saw Tucker clawing out his eyes, surrounded by computer screens flaring with symbols humans were never meant to use. Six steps. He saw Jazz-

He saw Jazz notice.

Five steps.

He could have wept.

She armed herself with stories and legends and saltwater and truths that made Danny seize and the fact that this thing was not her brother. Four steps.

He watched her confront it.

Three steps.

He watched it toy with her, her machinations only delaying her doom.

Two steps.

He watched it k-

One step.

No!

For the first time, he screamed in his True Voice. His fist snapped out, striking the mirror dead center. It shattered.

Was that enough? Was he in time? He- He couldn’t feel them. He couldn’t- They couldn’t be dead. They couldn’t be gone.

He dropped to his knees. The shards of the mirror glittered up at him, calling him. His hand shook as he reached out and picked one up. Slowly, he raised it to his lips. He opened his lips and as soon as the shard was even with his teeth, he bit down, the glass crunching like thunder.

Already, he was reaching for another piece. He swallowed. His hands went out, nails scrabbling along the floor in his hurry. Mirror shard after mirror shard was shoved into his mouth and choked down.

There was something around his neck. With one of his many hands he reached up, feeling up his chest to throat. There was a collar there. It felt like control, like ownership, like Love.

Something liquid dripped from his eye.

Even as he gagged on glass, two of his hands, his human hands, explored the circumference of the metal piece. There were delicate fractal patterns on the surface that had double on the interior. As his fingers pressed down on them, they in turn pressed on the skin of his neck, sending pleasant curls of thought down his limbs.

His questing fingers found the collar’s lead. It was at the same time, like the spider silk above and the clockwork chains below. Flexible. Strong. Indelible. It was as inevitable as gravity that he should Be Loved and Love in return.

He licked the last powdery pieces of mirror off his fingers and his extra arms slowly evaporated back into the Dream as if they never were.

Who would Love him like this? Love him to the point that it manifested in the Dream like this? The answer was all around him, was inside him, as his heart echoed back the Love as best it was able, but he could hardly believe it.

The sound of footsteps on the hard floor jolted him out of his reverie. He looked up and met the red eyes of Clockwork’s avatar.

It had the appearance of a blue-skinned man wearing a cloak and festooned with symbols of time. A few long white hairs peeked from beneath its hood, and a painful-looking scar laid over its eye.

For a moment, Danny was stunned, because this was a true avatar, an extension of Clockwork himself, not a human hollowed out for use as a vessel. For someone as powerful as Clockwork had to be to be so vast in the Dream to bestow such attention on Danny-

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but the only thing that rolled off his tongue was blood. Shame crept up his cheeks. He didn’t know if it was his use of his True Voice when destroying the mirror, or consuming all those shards afterwards, but his normal voice was gone.

Shh, soothed Clockwork’s avatar, gloved hands cupping Danny’s cheeks and forcing his lips closed. You need not speak, child. Those who love you will know your intent.

Danny nodded slowly, beginning to feel dazed. He remembered the scenes in the mirror. Remembered what the shadow-him had done. His fingers bent around the lead- it was almost as thick as his wrist- and looked up at Clockwork’s avatar.

Clockwork could strike him down, now, could destroy him so completely that even the merest memory of him was gone, and he would not care, because he would know it was done out of Love.

The lead shivered against his palms and grew.

No need, said Clockwork’s avatar. You have devoured your destiny and become free of it.

That sounded reasonable. The avatar brushed a thumb across Danny’s lips and smiled.

You have given yourself fangs.

Danny blushed again. He hadn’t meant to.

The avatar released Danny’s cheeks to reach for his hands, arranging them in Danny’s lap and rubbing circles into his palms. Then the avatar gently brought Danny’s attention to the door in its chest.

The door was glass. Beyond the glass laid an approximation of a heart made of the same elements as what laid beneath the floor. A metaphor for Clockwork’s heart, Danny guessed, though what laid in the avatar’s chest couldn’t be anywhere near as grand as the real thing.

The avatar nodded, and then leveled a gloved finger at Danny’s own chest. He looked down.

There was a door, there, too.

His breath caught in his throat and he tried to scramble away, some still-human part of him objecting strenuously to whatever was going to happen.

All at once, the whole of Clockwork’s attention turned in on him, and for an infinite moment of time he was held in a perfect embrace. His thought from earlier returned. Anything, and he would not object, because it was done out of Love.

His edges, usually so sharply defined, even in the Dream, went fuzzy, almost blending with his surroundings, those surroundings being Clockwork.

The avatar reached for Danny’s door and opened it. It hurt, but not as much as he thought it would. Within, laid his heart.

The surface, the shape, of it looked human enough. The veins and arteries were all in the right places. The atria and chambers all looked to be the proper sizes. It beat an even rhythm.

But inside it was as black as night and something like a star twinkled in its depth.

It was... odd, how closely it resembled Clockwork’s galaxies while being at the same time so different.

Clockwork’s avatar opened the door to its own chest, pinning it to his cloak, then he reached into Danny’s chest.

There was the pain he had been expecting, radiating from his core to the very tips of his fingers and toes. If he were not held immobile by the sheer force of Clockwork’s regard, he would have arched backwards and screamed.

Methodically, the avatar cut and tied off every one of arteries, veins, and nerves that led from the rest of Danny’s body to his heart. Finally, the heart excised and cradled in its hands, it drew back.

Danny should be dead. The Dream did not follow the same rules as the reality he had been born into, but his mind would not let go of the fact that he had no heart. He should be dead.

The avatar inserted Danny’s heart into its chest, next to its own, and closed its door. Slowly, the image of Danny’s heart faded into metaphor as it sunk down into the deeps to nestle next to Clockwork’s true heart.

Danny understood, then, that from this moment on, Clockwork would decide the direction of his heart, would determine who he Loved and who he Hated. If he should Love or Hate. Danny rather doubted Clockwork would let Danny do anything so damaging as Hate.

I shall keep it safe for you, said the avatar, something more profound behind its words that might have been Clockwork himself, until you are old enough to protect it on your own.

Danny understood, too, that although this promise was not a lie, he would never be old enough to reclaim his heart, no matter how much time passed or how powerful he grew. Clockwork’s Love and protection would keep both him and it safe, young, fragile. How could it do otherwise, when time itself would flow around him? When Love would keep him anchored to one form?

Clockwork’s attention relaxed, then, and Danny could move again, curling around the gaping hole in his chest. The avatar ruffled his hair and, with his other hand, held something out to Danny.

Six paired sets of life and death glimmered against the lavender of the avatar’s glove. Danny recognized them. They belonged to the people he Loved. He had not realized he Loved Mr. Lancer, but he could see now that it was true.

Moving slowly, as if underwater, Danny held his cupped hands beneath the avatar’s. His breath caught as the avatar tipped the lives and deaths into his hands.

So precious. He brought them down to his lap and, with painstaking care, began to peal the deaths away from the lives. Each death he ate, consuming it and breaking it down into nothing. Each life he placed in the hollow that had once housed his heart.

Like this, they would not die, they would not leave him. They would be with him, always, just as he would always Love them.

Exhaustion hit him all at once, and he slumped forward to rest his head on the Avatar’s shoulder. It laughed, lightly, and helped him close the door in his chest. Then, it took a heart-shaped padlock from within its cloak and threaded it into the latch of Danny’s door. The click as the padlock closed echoed off the floor and distant walls.

With a kind of detached curiosity, Danny watched as the edges of the door, latch, padlock and all, melded into his skin and vanished as if they had never been there at all. He knew that he would not be able to find the door again without help, and that, even then, to open the door he would need the padlock’s key. A key he had not yet seen.

But what reason did he have to open his chest? Others might have cause, those who wanted to hurt him, or those that he Loved. This was another protection, another way to keep him safe.

This time you devoured your destiny, said the avatar, petting him. The sick futures have been cut away. Next, we shall remove the presents where you Are Not. After that... The sentence trailed away in a buzz that made Danny��s thoughts go quiet.

The avatar began to do something that could only be described as singing even though neither voice nor sound were involved. It was a lullaby, and Danny felt himself become even heavier and softer than before. He curled into the avatar’s side, feeling small. The pain of his missing heart eased itself into something more bearable. The threads of love that kept him from becoming a monster wound tighter around his limbs and sewed themselves deeper into his skin.

His eyes drifted closed.

When he woke, he was in his bed, in Fentonworks. He blinked several times at his ceiling, and leapt to his feet only to be waylaid by dizziness and static across his eyes. He brought a hand up to his neck, half expecting to feel metal.

He didn’t.

He shifted, pressing two fingers against an artery. No pulse. He switched his grip to his wrist. Nothing.

Right. No heart.

No heart but six lives and-

He stumbled out of his room and started banging wildly on her door. Jazz threw it open and froze.

“It’s really you?” she asked, voice quivering.

Danny opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out. It didn’t seem like Jazz really needed a verbal response, because she threw herself at him, enveloping him in a hug.

“I was so scared,” she whispered. “The- the not-you-” She sucked in a shuddering breath. “Everyone was dying, and then- and then it was just- It was like a dream. Like it didn’t happen. But you were gone.”

Danny nodded, even though she couldn’t see him.

“I’m so glad it’s you,” she said. “I’m so glad it’s you.”

Her love, so tenuous and slender compared to Clockwork’s, but no less genuine, wound around his wrist. He hugged her back.

If he had been able to speak, he would have said, Me, too.

#danny phantom #ask #answer #prompt fill #eldritch abomination au #prompt #body horror #horror

315 notes · View notes

terrm9 · 4 years

Text

Home (Ethan X MC)

Words count: 2 700 Warnings: cursing Author’s note: This is my version of events that take place after Ethan and MC (Chiara) leave Louise Ramsey at the rehab centre. It was supposed to be fluffy piece about Ethan taking MC to his place when she says she wants to go home but somehow it got a little bit angsty.

Also, the biggest thanks to everyone that supported me to write this! You guys made my heart swell and I am going to tag you because I am so, so, so thankful you encouraged me. It means a lot to me, really.

———– HOME ———-

“I should thank you more often,” Ethan let out as he leaned back into his seat, turning the engine on.

“I think I could learn to live with that,” Chiara grinned back at him, fastening her seatbelt. “I truly am proud of you Ethan. And I also can’t wait to go home.”

Ethan nodded, his gaze fixed on the road ahead of them. Chiara observed his features, testing her skills by trying to guess what exactly is going on in his head. His knuckles were turning pale by the force he held on steering wheel with, his jaw clenched and his expression forcibly neutral. It didn’t take a genius to see that there was a war of emotions inside of him, just as it didn’t take one to see that he had no intensions to share what was on his mind at the moment.

Knowing better than to push him, Chiara teared her eyes off him and despite trying her hardest to not to, she glanced at the watch at the car’s dashboard.

5:57 PM.

One minute until Sora comes to see what happened.

Chiara can’t help it. She tried, she got rid of every single watch in her apartment, she purposefully doesn’t look at her phone and yet, every single day since the accident, she keeps checking the time, repeating what happened that day.

Locked in the room with Bobby and Danny and Travis and later only with Rafael and then all by herself, all she could do was to stare at the round white watch hanged above the door and memorize the exact time of every single moment that somehow affected that day. No matter how many weeks have passed, no matter how much she tried to persuade herself, as well as everyone else that she was okay now, she kept checking the damn time every day.

“I meant what I said back then, Chiara,” Ethan spoke abruptly, breaking the thoughts occupying her mind. “That I wouldn’t have done that without you. If it wasn’t for you, I would never give Louise a second chance. I would never even try to forgive her.”

“I am not sure that’s exactly a good thing, Ethan. You have felt some way towards her for twenty-five years. You have only known me for almost two years now. I don’t think I should be the one to tell you if you should or shouldn’t forgive, it needs to be your decision. Something this huge cannot be decided on my suggestion of what I would do in the situation.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he shook his head, not tearing his gaze off the road. “It was not your suggestion that made me forgive her. It’s you. Your ability to always be kind. For twenty-five years I was angry. I was so angry with my mother and the thing is, I was proud to be angry at her. I was so proud to feel the anger, to not to look for her like my father did, I felt like caring about where she was or missing her, like that would make me weak. She did us wrong and all she deserved was my anger and hatred, right? And this was not only the case of my mother. Every time in my life someone hurt me I decided all I would ever feel for them again would be anger. Because if I have forgiven them, it would make me weak and they would be able to hurt me again. And then I met you and in you, I met a person that has always been nice to everyone. Even the people who have hurt her, even those who have been rude to her, strangers, a person that, despite my efforts to push her away, despite me being an absolute asshole, has always shown me how much she cared and that she would be there for me,” he gulped and took a deep breath before going on.

“When the leakage happened, I went to see Travis with Dr. Trinh. He never told me anything that could help us and I hated him with every single cell in my body. As I was leaving the room he was in, he asked me to help him with his pain, to increase the morphine dosage. I could see that he was suffering but I was so angry with him that I left him to suffer. It was on our way back to the hospital when it hit me. That if it were you at my place, you would never leave him to suffer, no matter how much hatred you felt. You are everything I have never been, Chiara and only now I know that your kindness, your ability to forgive, that none of it makes you weaker. That you are the strongest person I know. When I asked you what would you do, with Louise I mean, I knew very well that you would give her a second chance. I just needed to hear you say that. To remind me that if I gave her the chance, I wouldn’t be weak.”

Chiara smiled at him lightly and took his free hand into hers, not wanting to burden the lightness that surrounded them with worthless words.

Thirty minutes later, Ethan parked his car in the garage of his building and leaned his head into the seat back, closing his eyes.

“I was thinking about making Thai red curry for dinner, how does that sound to you?” he asked with his eyes still closed.

Chiara was looking at him, her expression both surprised and amused.

When it took her too long to answer, Ethan opened his eyes and turned to her.

“What is it? Do you hate curry?”

“What? No, not at all. I am just, well, surprised you took me here. To your place, I mean.”

Ethan furrowed his brows in utter confusion as he shrugged: “Well you said you wanted to go home so I took you-“

He stopped mid-sentence as he realized what has just happened. Opening and closing his mouth for a few times he was gaining himself some time to form a coherent sentence.

“I am sorry, Chiara. Jesus, I don’t know what I was thinking, I mean, I clearly wasn’t thinking. Of course you meant your place. Chiara I am so sorry, let me just take you there and-“

He was stopped again, this time by Chiara’s lips pressed against his.

You are a fucking idiot, Ramsey, he thought as she kissed him, feeling her grinning. All she wanted was to go home. Her home. The one where she lives. With her roommates. Imbecile.

“Stop apologizing,” she smiled as she broke the kiss. “The curry sounds great.”

They were sitting at the opposite sides of the table, both simply playing with the food on their still half-full plates.

“You’ve hardly even eaten anything,” Chiara pointed out when she noticed Ethan putting his fork down.

“Do you want to compare?” he asked back, gesturing toward her plate.

He didn’t say it to make her feel bad or to push her to finish her meal. Ethan knew Chiara wasn’t doing this on purpose, nor had it anything to do with his cooking abilities. Through the weeks, he’s noticed how drastically has her appetite decreased and how she hasn’t really gotten it back.

With everything going on these past few months, neither of them could actually eat or sleep.

Chiara simply shrugged and noticing the watch at his wrist, she asked: “What time is it, please?”

He watched down and answered: “Half past eight.”

“Precisely half past eight?”

“Precisely thirty-two minutes past eight. Why are you asking?”

8:32 PM.

At 8:37 they came to the room to take Rafael away because he slipped into coma.

At 8:39 Ethan told me that Danny was dead.

“Huh? I am just curious,” she lied and needing to change the topic, she asked another question. “Do you feel somehow lighter now that you got your closure?”

It was Ethan’s turn to shrug – and maybe even to lie.

“I actually do feel lighter. It was something I didn’t know I needed. But I am also scared – I promised Louise to visit her and now I feel like it was a stupid promise. I will hardly be able to see her again anytime soon.”

“I can come with you every time if it would help. Louise already thinks we are good friends.”

“She does?”

“She told me while she was in the hospital. Apparently, that’s what your dad told her.”

Ethan groaned, obviously bothered by the fact that his parents talk about him and Chiara at all. However, after a while, he simply muttered: “I guess I should give my dad an update, then.”

Chiara laughed loudly at the remark, the first real laugh Ethan’s heard from her all day. Knowing that both of them were finished with their meals, he took the plates back to the kitchen and decided to wash the dishes too while he was there. It gave him some more time to compose himself, to allow himself to simply feel lighter and happier, without the haunting feelings of doubt and fear of being hurt again.

He also felt guilty. Chiara has been through so much and even though she tried to act like she was okay, he knew her. And he could see rather clearly that she was not okay. On those precious nights they’ve spent together, he could hear her screaming from her sleep.

Please, you don’t have to do this.

Not Danny.

Not Bobby.

Just kill me.

Not Raf.

Travis stop!

Just kill me.

No. no, NO!

It could go on like this through the whole night. And here he was, burdening her with his family issues.

“You do realize that you own a dishwasher, right?” she disturbed his thoughts with wide grin on her face, leaning against a doorframe.

“I am sorry, Chiara,” he blurted out before he could even think about it. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this. I know you have enough on your plate and it was selfish from me to ask you to do this with me.”

She closed the distance between them and gently stopped the water, handing him the dishcloth to dry his hands. After she made sure he was all set, she hugged his waist tightly, resting her head on his chest.

Ethan circled his arms around her petite form and closed his eyes, letting her rose-yasmine perfume rule over his senses, taking him to the place where it could be just the two of them.

Where they could be happy.

Where they wouldn’t be broken.

“I am so happy you dragged me into this. I want to be part of your life and that means all the aspects of it. Let me be there for you, okay?”

“Will you stay for the night?” he whispered into her hair and felt his shoulders relax when he felt her nod.

After taking a quick shower, Ethan entered his bedroom in his grey pajama bottoms and didn’t even try to suppress a smile that found a way onto his mouth when he spotted Chiara sitting on the bed in nothing but his shirt, reading a poetry book she found on his bedside table.

“Come here,” she waved her hand as she closed the book and leaned into the bedframe.

Ethan sat at the edge of the bed, waiting for further instructions and was rather surprised when she pulled him toward her, his head landing in her lap. Immediately, Chiara started to play with Ethan’s hair, massaging his scalp softly.

“I can see that there is something else bothering you, Ethan.”

“There is.”

“Do you want to tell me?”

“I am scared, Chiara,” he whispered.

Chiara simply kept stroking his hair, waiting for him to elaborate his statement.

“What if I am just like her? It makes so much sense now that I see why she left us. I finally know what I have been suspecting - and fearing - all those years. That I am the picture of my dear mother.”

“How do you mean that?”

“I have always hated her for leaving us, for running away, when really, I am doing the same thing every time life gets hard. When Naveen was dying and I thought he wouldn’t be saved, I left Edenbrook. When Dolores died, I stormed out of the waiting room when you reached out to me. After your trial when it became clear that we would be working together again, I left to Brazil. And all those times I kept telling myself that it was better for the others, that I was doing it for the hospital, for Naveen, for you, when really, all I was doing was running away like a fucking coward I was. All those years I blamed my mother for hurting us and now I am doing the same to the people I care about. What if I can never change? What if I am destined to be the same failure she was? What if I hurt you again?”

There was a long silence.

Ethan hugged Chiara’s waist and closed his eyes, scared that she realized that he was right and would leave him now.

Chiara’s eyes were filled with tears as she pressed her lips on Ethan’s head, her heart broken for the man with the biggest heart, only to have it filled with so much hatred and doubt toward himself.

“If there’s something you are destined for, Ethan, it’s all the great, beautiful things in this world. And you deserve someone to show you how worthy of love you are. I will be here with you tonight, okay? Try to sleep. I am not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

He simply nodded, the words stuck in his throat. As if there were any words that could ever describe the way he felt with Chiara.

After she was sure that Ethan was deeply in his sleep, Chiara gently untangled herself from his grip and headed back to the living room, where she left her phone. She knew that Sienna was on her night shift tonight and so she needed to text her.

It became their ritual through these past weeks, checking on each other on the nights they didn’t spend together.

Chiara knew that, just like herself, Sienna was far from okay. She knew they were both trying their hardest to act normal and she also knew that they were both failing miserably. But Chiara had Ethan looking out for her.

Sienna had no one.

There were nights when they would sleep together in Chiara’s room, crying, talking about Danny and how much Sienna missed him, hugging each other until the sleep found them. And when they couldn’t be together, they would text each other to make sure that the other one was as alright as she possibly could be.

After returning back to the bed, Chiara found Ethan sleeping on his side, his back turned to her. Trying to adjust her little body behind him so that she could be the big spoon for tonight – which was ironic really, as she could never be anything big compared to Ethan – she wrapped her hand around his torso and after making sure that his breaths were slow and steady and therefore he was asleep, she said the words she wanted to tell him for a long time but never did, afraid of scaring him.

“I love you.”

After that, she closed her eyes and not even a minute later, she drifted off.

Ethan felt her small, warm arm as she wrapped it around his body, but decided to pretend to be asleep, not wanting to ruin the moment and also her attempt to somehow surround him completely.

His whole body stiffed at her words and it took him all the willpower he had to not to turn around and look at her. Only when he heard her soft snores indicating that she was asleep, he enlaced his fingers with hers on his chest as he whispered:

“And I you.”

Once again, THANK YOU GUYS: @queencarb @perriewinklenerdie @starrystarrytrouble @the-pale-goddess @catchinglikekerosene @udishaman @messrprongs

#open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #sienna trinh #chapter 16

140 notes · View notes

allyvampirelass29 · 4 years

Text

The Lost Boy

A NOS4A2 Fanfiction By: Allyssa J. Watkins

"Vicki? Where are you!? Vicki, come here!"

"You're scarin' her, Linda, all your damn screechin'! Brat? Baby, come back here."

"Yeah, sure, Chris, you're the one drinkin' and throwin' whiskey bottles, and actin' like a freakin' lunatic, but my voice is scarin' our daughter! GOD, Mister Hero, and I'm always the BAD GUY!!! Damn it, Vicki, I SAID come here!!!"

Eight year old Vic McQueen hugged her denim jacket with the pink sparkly stars on the shoulders, tighter around her, rolling her dark eyes, as her parents fought in the open doorway. Biting her lip, she snuck her way around the side of the house, climbing on her red bike, pedaling away, shooting a quick glance over her shoulder, to make sure she wasn't being followed.

"Do they always engage in so unsightly a row?"

Vic squeezed the brakes on her handlebars with a gasp, her unruly brown curls falling in her eyes, as she stopped short, swerving, just narrowly missing the older boy, standing in the street.

"Geeze, Pal, ain't your mother never told you not to play in the street? What? D'you want to get hit by a car or somethin'? What's that mean anyway, row?"

"Feisty for a girl, aren't you?" The older boy, about twelve chuckled, adjusting his red silk kerchief, and dusting off his black vest. Vic was sure she'd never seen him before, dark wavy hair, and them thick eyebrows, he sure didn't sound like he come from Haverhill.

"Yeah, what of it?" She shot back, raising her chin defiantly, balancing on her bike. "Girls can be just a tough as boys, y'know? Ask Danny Merckle, I popped him one good. And if row means raise the dead with a lot of damn noise, then yeah, they sure row a lot."

The dark, mysterious boy shook his head with a smirk. "Girls shouldn't curse, nor should they engage in fisticuffs."

"That mean scrappin'?" She asked, screwing up her little face. Geeze what an oddball, this guy.

"More or less," The boy shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah, well, I ain't exactly the type to play with dolls," She shot back, and he smiled again, his head tilted.

"So I see...... Well, Feisty, to answer your earlier question, no. My mother practically told me to go play in the street, nor would she have batted an eyelash if I'd gotten run over like a stray."

"Man ALIVE, your Old Lady is worse than mine!!!" Vic gasped, and she couldn't help but notice how sad the boys eyes looked. Real damn sad.

"You have NO idea, he said with a sigh," And they both jumped as the front door to Vic's house slammed shut.

"That's my cue," She whispered, leaning forward to pedal away again, when the older boy, grabbed one of the handlebars. "Hey, watch it guy, cant'cha see I'm tryin' to make a break for it?"

"I'm sorry." He said softly, his eyes going all sad again. "I'm sorry, you have to listen to them fight, and throw things, but you don't have to be scared."

"I ain't- I ain't scared," Vic's shoulders bristled, and the boy watched unconvinced as her lip quivered, and the autumn light caught in her pink sequins.

"It's okay..... to be scared. I am, sometimes."

"Pshhh are you kidding me?" Vic scoffed, resting her arms on the handlebars. "What's a tall guy like you got to be scared of, huh? Yeah, your old lady sounds like a witch, but, c'mon she's still your ma. She might carry on, but they love us. They gotta, right?"

The boy smiled again, but it was very sad. "One can only hope, Feisty. May I....... accompany you, on your daring getaway?"

"If that's fancy talk for tag along, then yeah sure." Vic shrugged her shoulders. "Damn, you're sure different, most boys older 'an me just want to push me around, you know, pick on me."

Vic pedaled down the sidewalk, away from her house, the sun hanging low in the sky, as the boy in the red kerchief walked alongside her, fighting his smile.

"I can't imagine anyone pushing you around. You're quite the novelty to me too."

"Thanks....... I think," Vic looked at him, scrunching up her brow. "So you got a rough home life too huh?"

"Horrendously so...... Your father may take to the drink, but I have the great misfortune of living in a bar, surrounded constantly by drunkards, and my mother, let's just say....... has a lot of boyfriends."

"No foolin'? GOD, that's gotta be some kind of awful! Folks get bonkers when they're drunk, at least mine come home...... most of the time, anyways. Boyfriends huh? What about your old man? Mine's a drinker, yeah, but he ain't all bad. He makes me laugh, y'know?"

"I don't have one...... I mean, I do, of course, but....... his identity could never in probability be ascertained. Whomever he is, he sure did not want me."

"God....... That's real rough. Everybody needs a dad......."

Vic's front tire hit a rock, and she swerved, accidently slamming into the boy, and he groaned as he fell back hard.

"Yikes! Holy sh- Are you okay?" She yelled, leapfrogging off her bike, kneeling down beside him, reaching to help him up, when she saw them....... "Hold on, guy, there's something on your neck there......"

"I'm perfectly sound, just a little jostled, hey, stop that, what are doing?"

Vic pulled off his silk handkerchief, and his hands flew to his neck, nervously. "Give it back."

"Hey........" Vic frowned, pursing her lip, and the boy shuddered, as she leaned over him, and pulled down his shirt collar. "You're bruised somethin' awful....... Did I-?"

"No-" He snapped quickly, leaping to his feet, one hand still hovering over his neck, the other held out impatiently, wiggling his fingers. "That's mine, thank you very much."

"No." She shook her rebellious curls stubbornly, clutching the kerchief tight. "You're not getting it back until you tell me....... Who did that to you, huh? You get in one of them rows with somebody?"

"Something like that...... Now give it, before I take it from you......." He scowled, knitting his dark brow.

"Like to see you try it, Buddy," She snarked back, holding it behind her back. "Who whaled on you, tell me....... It couldn't have been your old lady, c'mon."

The boy tried to look angry, tried to hide the guilt, and shame in his eyes, but they pierced through the dark shine, and he sighed, hanging his head. It was then Vic noticed the cuff on his sleeve had inched up, revealing the dark circles of even more bruises.

She gasped, her little hand flying to her mouth, slowly handing him the kerchief, which he snatched back, and carefully re-tied.

"I take it back...... Your mother's a witch with a "b."

The older boy couldn't stifle his smirk, hastily pulling down his long, starch white sleeve, fiddling with it. "Quite so."

"My ma used to get mad, and slap me around sometimes when I was talking back, but....... she ain't never left bruises like that....... You got to get yourself the hell out of there.

"I will....... Someday." He shrugged, hands in his pockets, and Vic walked her red bike alongside him, the sun casting long shadows behind them. "Someday, I'll drive away, in a fancy car, somewhere no one will ever hurt me again.

"Sounds real good, guy. You ever need a friend, you got one in Vic McQueen."

"Who's Vic McQueen?"

"Me, Stupid!" Vic laughed, elbowing him in the ribs. "You got a name, Kerchief?"

The dark-eyed boy smirked, bowing graciously, with a flourish of his hand. "Charlie Manx, at your service."

"God, you are so freaking weird. Well, put 'er there, Charlie!" Vic beamed, holding out her little hand with a smug grin, and hesitantly, Charlie took it, with a firm shake.

"A pleasure, Victoria."

Charlie Manx awoke with a jolt, bolting upright in bed, his hands flying instinctively to his neck, and he shivered, the sweat cooling on his skin.

"What on GOD'S green earth was that......!?"

His palm slid slowly down his neck, and he felt the pale brunette slumbering beside him stir, but she didn't fully wake. He stroked her face, breathing heavy, envying her expression of heavenly peace. How perfectly dreadful....... How dare you, Victoria....... Damn you, invading my sacred dreams, unearthing my- my secrets and shames. He rubbed his neck again, finding it still bare, and free of bruises, his skin, of course, flawless.

The angry tears stung his eyes, and he wiped them furiously away, his thumb circling his wrist over and over........ He had to admit this miniature McQueen wasn't quite so irksome....... Little Victoria was so far removed from her scathing, impulsive, teenage self, that there was something almost endearing about her, fussing over him and his boyhood inflictions. “How odd to think of us together, Victoria, as children, the bruised yield of broken homes. What might you have thought of him, The Lost Boy without his Neverland? We might even have been friends.......... How's that for a scary thought?”

He slowly fell back back onto the bed, his silky raven head sinking into the soft pillow, and he froze as his sleeping beauty whimpered, and eased her body against his, skin melting against skin, laying her crown of shiny curls on his bare chest.

"This one......." Charlie breathed, flaring his nostrils in a sigh, his claws caressing her luxurious curls, letting them sift, one by one, through his fingers. "She had a much different upbringing than the two of us........ An ideal childhood, and I envy her, Vic........ I envied her, her happiness, yes, I watched her grow up, loved, cared for, precious in her mother's eyes, and I ached to know what that was like....... To flourish in a tended garden, instead of left neglected in the thistle........ Ironic, isn't it......? She would have had no need of me to come, and spirit her away to Christmasland, and yet you....... who despise it most of all........ were exactly the kind of girl I would have saved.

He ran his hands through his mussed coif, his obsidian strands damp with sweat. "Imagine us, Vic, as childhood friends, the feisty girl, and the dapper dan, creating together, walking worlds that others can't even imagine....... Look at us now, scrapping, as you so eloquently phrased it, for a chance to kill each other, and I feel the swelter of your hatred, but even you can't deny that we....... are not so different."

I'm going to have to kill you, there's no way around that, not now. And I'm going to enjoy it, have fun, get...... creative with your meticulous undoing. He chuckled to himself, winding one of Ally's ringlets around and around his finger, with a menacing smirk. But that does not mean I won't miss this, our delicious conflict, the obscene pleasure that comes in hating you, hurting you....... In a perfect world, I would have you both, my conflicting passions, satisfied, her pleasure, your pain, my ultimate fantasy. But this one....... She was made too tender, Vic. Where your parents' endangerment hardened you an edge, this one feels too deeply through another's heart, even yours. She couldn't love a man that inflicts pain with such indecent pleasure, courting her tenderly with the same hand that harms you. In time, she will beg me to stop, fling herself at my feet, sobbing bitterly while you bleed, and being so affected by her, I will grant her wish. I will grant yours as well, and finally finish it, quell your flame, waste all of that Creative potential, killing you in secret. Then I'll tell her, Vic, I'll tell her I let you go.......

Charlie felt his heart quicken, imagining Victoria's aghast face, as though she were listening to his thoughts, racing by in a frenzy. That's right, My Feisty One, I'll make myself the hero of our doomed fable, and say I've decided to give up our fantastic feud, all for her, because she's changed my heart, absolved me of my sins, and she'll love me for it, Vic, praise me, reward me, even while you lay dead in the frozen wilderness. He closed his eyes, with a dark chuckle, a sinful breath escaping. You'd hate that, wouldn't you, Victoria? ANSWER ME!!! Tell me how much you'd hate that.......

You're messed up, Pal. You do that, and you're worse than your slap happy old lady.

Charlie's eyelashes fluttered open as he heard Little Vic's angry voice linger in his mind.

That's enough out of you, Young Lady. Only good girls get to go to Christmasland, and you've long outstayed your welcome.

You want me to scram? Make me.

Oh, I intend to....... Consider yourself grounded.

He simpered, feeling blissful, pressed against his wife's womanly warmth, visions of battling Vic frolicking through his head, as he smelled Ally's hair. You make me so happy, the both of you........ In hating one, and loving the other, The Lost Boy became a found man. You might not be one to play with dolls, Vic, but I certainly am......... And I don't intend to share.

#charlie manx x oc #charlie manx #vic mcqueen #nos4a2 #christmasland #paranormal romance #paradise for the lost

35 notes · View notes

ymiwritesstuff · 4 years

Text

Unfinished Business

This was the request I was initially very confused about but luckily the anon was kind enough to elaborate! Thanks for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

The request: No problem! The idea was that reader learns about Dio bullying jojo/killing Danny and just takes a swing at him, knocking Dio on his ass. After that Dio keeps trying to win her over but she always resorts to a fistfight. It’s all fun and games until he turns into a vampire and punches don’t work anymore

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Part 1: Phantom Blood

Dio Brando x Fem!Reader

Summary: Confronting Dio and inflicting physical damage on him was undoubtedly one of your weirdest yet greatest achievements but never in a million years would’ve you guessed just how serious it truly was.

There were certain moments in your life when you got this gnawing feeling that something wasn’t right. A bubbling anxiety mockingly poking your insides, making it impossible to ignore. These moments were rare, but they were almost always there for a reason. Not once, had your gut feeling been incorrect or for naught.

And this piercing feeling was stronger than ever as soon as your (E/C) eyes landed on the adoptive son of the Joestars.

The sinister aura that seemed to surround Dio was undeniable. You were sure that behind those sharp eyes and that admittedly charming smirk was an underlying malicious intent that was just waiting for its moment to strike. He was good at hiding it, often using his talent with words and good looks to his advantage. It was absurd how easily he was able to use people and turn them into his followers he could never consider as friends. No matter how much he tried to appeal to you, -which was quite a lot as for some reason he seemed to be intrigued by you-, that alarming feeling you experienced when near him was telling you to get far far away from him, because something was definitely not right about him.

And when his own brother voiced his concerns about him, your suspicions were more than confirmed. When Jonathan told you all about the things Dio had done to him, your blood was practically boiling in anger, your mind not wanting to believe those horrible actions to be true. You were angry. Not only because of the horrible things the golden haired male had done, but also because of how sad your friend seemed to be. Jonathan didn’t deserve this. He hadn’t done anything and his life was so cruelly ruined by his adoptive brother.

How could someone do something like that? What twisted mind could bring so much suffering and misery to an innocent person’s life? Learning the truth about Dio made a part of you feel grateful for your feelings of anxiety as if it weren’t for them, you could have fallen victim to his charm, rendering you completely oblivious to his true nature.

But now that you knew exactly what was going on in the depths of Dio’s heartless mind, you allowed your wrath to take over your mind and blind you, causing you to quite recklessly make your way to the blond, unrelenting determination to defend your friend fueling you.

Your heavy, angry footsteps seemed to echo around the forest, your eyes filled with rage. Thanks to some “light” questioning from his followers, you gained information of his whereabouts, and were heading towards his location, your mind set on one very specific goal; To beat the shit out of him. You didn’t care if he was stronger than you, that very simple fact flew above your head due to your fury and the only thing you wanted to see was him laying on the ground, bleeding. Quite brutal, even from someone like you, but he deserved even worse than that.

When your (E/C) eyes see his figure leaning against a tree the only thing you can see is red, burning anger as you quicken your steps, unable to hold back any longer. Dio’s amber eyes turn to look at you, seemingly sensing your presence and his lips curl into that irritating smirk you had always hated. This time though, you want to wipe it off his face.

“(Name), what a surprise to see you here. How can I-” His smug voice gets cut off by your fist hitting his face, causing him to stumble back and fall on the ground. With a painful groan he grabs onto his now bleeding nose, a sight with pleases you greatly. Serves him right. His amber eyes look directly at you, filled with that same rage that fueled yours just mere moments ago. Before he has any time to yell at you for punching him so rudely, your stern voice comes forth:

“If I ever see you harming Jojo or if you even dare to come near me ever again, I’ll make sure that your nose won’t be the last thing I break.”

And with that one, simple sentence you withdraw from the scene, leaving Dio confused, angry but at the same time, extremely impressed.

The impact of your attack stuck onto Dio for years and only seemed to increase his already existing fascination with you. Of course, the bitter taste of something akin to defeat left its mark on his tongue upon the impact but at the same time Dio couldn’t help but to feel a sense of respect for you. The fact that you had managed to inflict such brutal damage on him was impressive and he was now far more intrigued by you.

But try as he might, he soon realized that trying to win you over was anything but possible. Whenever he so much as approached you, your fists found their way in front of you, your eyes glaring at him with undying spite and hatred. To avoid unnecessary conflict, Dio thought it best to leave you be -though he could easily overpower you-, despite wanting to use his manipulative tendencies on you as well as get revenge for that utterly insulting punch you had delivered all those years ago, as it still somewhat haunted him.

But when the overwhelming power of the stone mask engulfed him, so did his thirst for revenge.

Your slow walking comes to a halt when that familiar feeling of something not being quite right hits you after it has laid dormant for years. Your eyes quickly scan the area that’s covered in darkness thanks to the night surrounding the area, not noticing anything out of the ordinary but that feeling just won’t stop bothering you. It’s as if someone is watching your every move, following you around like a shadow. And then you hear it.

“My.. Aren’t you brave? Walking around the dark and dangerous streets all by yourself.”

That voice. “Who’s there?!” You immediately recognize it, but at the same time it sounds so different. As if it’s empowered by something very sinister. Cold shivers run down your spine as his chuckle echoes around the dark alleyway, your instincts immediately telling you to run. That’s what you try to do, but stop in your tracks when a dark figure you can only assume to be him lands in front of you. You notice the familiar amber eyes glowing dangerously, that same smirk dancing along his lips framing the sharp fangs in his mouth as he looks at you, that sharp gaze burning you like a flame.

Since running seems to be out of the question, you resort to the other method that had been successful last time, and swing your fist at him, hoping to make him stumble back again. Your efforts are in vain as he swiftly grabs your fist, his smirk only growing at the disbelief on your face.

“That’s not going to work on me, (Name). But this reminds me, we do have some unfinished business.” His grip on your wrist tightens and with it sends waves of pain throughout your entire arm. The anxiety and fear within you only increases as Dio’s intense gaze looks directly at you. This was bad.

Your heart races, your stomach twists in fear and before you even realize it, your eyes fill with tears as you only now realize just how bad of an idea it was to launch your fist at this monster’s face all those years ago.

#jjba #jojo #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken #jojo's bizarre adventure x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure phantom blood #jojo dio #dio brando #dio brando x reader #dio #dio x reader #jjba dio #jojo x reader #jjba x reader #reader insert

87 notes · View notes

galaxyghostart · 4 years

Text

like looking in a mirror - ao3 link

an au fic in which phantom isn’t what he seems. aka, i take my “what if danny isn’t actually phantom” idea and make it angsty. it got very out of hand, very fast.

Danny Fenton couldn’t tear his eyes away from the TV. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t. It couldn’t.

Phantom, they were calling him. Amity Park’s new hero, menace, monster. Whatever you wanted to call him. He wasn’t any of those things to Danny.

Sam couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. “...Is no one going to say it?”

Tucker shot her a warning look. “Don’t, Sam.”

“What? Isn’t it freaky? That ghost looks just like Danny.”

“I know,” Danny said, too quietly. Sam had a hundred theories lined up already, but Danny was already standing up before she’d even gotten a chance to speak.

“...Danny? Where are you going?”

“I’ve got someone to find.”

The door shut.

Sam looked to Tucker, incredulous. “Did I strike a nerve? It wasn’t an insult, it’s just- Look at him.” She gestured wildly at the news, still broadcasting footage of Phantom flying across the sky. “It’s not like Danny’s dead. Who the hell is that, and how does he look so similar?”

Tucker hesitated. The idea was almost too awful to contemplate, but Danny had clearly thought the same thing he had when that familiar figure made his way across the screen. He stood up, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

“I don’t blame you for not knowing- It happened before you moved to town. C’mon, I’ll tell you on the way. We should find Danny before he does something stupid.”

---

For once, his parents’ ghosthunting technology was coming in handy. Danny never believed in this stuff before- honestly, part of him still didn’t,- but somehow, it seemed to work. The machine detected ectoplasm, and Phantom may as well have been a beacon for all the power he gave off.

This is bullshit, Danny thought, even as he followed it like a compass.

It led him to- of course it lead him here. The observatory. The project had been abandoned a while back, but the skeleton of the structure remained intact. The metaphor didn’t escape him. On the contrary, it was pretty much punching him in the face. Abandoned telescope, abandoned dreams, abandoned life.

It wasn’t hard to hop the fence. Okay, it was- It took like, 15 minutes, a few falls and a whole lot of swearing, but he finally made it to the other side. The machine in his hands was beeping faster, like a frantic heartbeat.

Shut up, he silently willed it. It didn’t.

Making his way carefully through the rusted doors of the place, he couldn’t help but feel a chill. Somehow, he didn’t think it was from the temperature. He turned the machine off and stuffed it into his back pocket- At this point, he didn’t need it to feel the energy radiating off of the place. It was everywhere. Wrapping his arms around himself, he stepped to the middle of the circular room.

“I know you’re here,” he called.

No response.

He gazed up at the unfinished ceiling, narrowing his eyes. “It’s me.”

Still nothing.

He couldn’t take it anymore. “James. I know it’s you.”

Just like that, he felt the energy in the room shift. He still couldn’t see him, but he knew he was there. A quiet voice echoed out from the shadows.

“...how?”

“You’ve been all over the news, man. Amity Park’s newest hero, I’m hearing.”

“not that. how did you know it was me? i’m not exactly... normal looking.”

Danny let out a halfhearted chuckle. “You know we have the same face? Can’t exactly change that with a fancy new hair color.”

“...”

“...Besides, it’s not like I’d forget my own brother.”

“...you got me.”

There he was, finally. A dark shadow right in the corner of Danny’s eye. No- There he was again. More solid, more... real.

Not by much, but enough.

“...Hey.”

“...hey.”

Danny had been thinking this over the whole way here, but everything he’d planned to say seemed to have disappeared all of a sudden. What was there to say? It had been years since it had happened, and part of him still couldn’t accept it had happened at all, even now. It didn’t seem... real.

Ghosts weren’t supposed to be real. It was supposed to be nothing but the made-up fantasy that got his brother killed. That stupid portal. It was less of a portal and more of an electrocution hazard, which Jazz had pointed out, not that either of them had listened. Not until it was too late, that is. It hadn’t worked. Why his parents had tried again after that, he had no idea, but they had, and now he was here. Against all odds, he was here.

Meaning he’d been there all this time.

And Danny had left him behind.

“You look...”

“older?”

“...Yeah.”

“so do you. guess that’s how this works.”

“Maybe.”

They’d always joked about some psychic twin connection. Danny might’ve made some quip about it now, but the humor he often used to cope was starting to feel hollow. James was here. Not alive, but here. What the hell was he supposed to say?

“I... missed you.”

“i know. i missed you too.”

“Why didn’t you come home? I had to see you beating up ghosts on the news to realize you were back. Could’ve said hello.”

There was humor in those glowing green eyes, but not much. “think i didn’t try? mom and dad had a nice hello waiting for me in the form of big ol’ ectoguns.”

“...Oh.”

“yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“it’s not your fault.”

“Not just about this, about- About everything. That stupid dare. Not... Not looking for you out there.”

The phantom’s form solidified a little more, just enough to see that familiar smirk on his face.

“what, you think you should’ve summoned the dead just to bring me back? doesn’t work like that, buddy. you probably would’ve just gotten a demon.”

“It’s just...” Danny’s voice wavered a little, and he took a deep breath. “It’s just not fair. Why you? Why’d this have to happen to you? You’re back now, but you’re still...” He swallowed, trying to hold back the tears that had been threatening to spill the entire time. “You’re still...”

Denial was the only thing standing between Danny and a full-on mental breakdown. He’d figured it was an impostor. If not that, a coincidence. If not that, some weird dream. A hallucination. Ghosts weren’t supposed to be real. James was gone.

And yet, here he was.

“Why aren’t you angry? It was my dumbass idea, and you’re the one that kicked the bucket. You should be pissed as hell. You should hate me.”

“...”

Danny’s voice was shaking. His shoulders, too. James drifted a little closer, concern making its way onto his ethereal face.

“Why don’t you hate me?”

Everything went cold. For a moment, Danny thought he’d been dunked in cold water, until he noticed the gloved arms wrapped around his shoulders. James had made it the rest of the way across the room, and was hugging him as tight as one could when they weren’t fully tangible. Danny froze, then slowly lifted his arms to return the hug. James seemed to be getting more solid by the moment, and now that there was a shoulder there to cry on, Danny did. He let it all out- The repressed guilt, the self-hatred, the sadness, the loss. He cried until he couldn’t anymore. James stayed there, solid as a ghost could be.

“...maybe i was a little pissed at first,” he spoke softly, after what seemed like forever. “okay, a lot pissed. it was a dumb idea, and a dumb portal. but i had a lot of time to think about it while i was gone. lots of ghosts get so pissed and so sad that they just lose themselves completely. go nuts. turn into a big ol’ murder monster or whatever. i didn’t want to be... that, especially not when i knew you were out there probably hating yourself enough for both of us. besides... you’re my twin, dude. i don’t think there’s anything you could do to make me hate you. so i learned to live with it, y’know? well... not live with it, but you get what i’m saying.”

“...Kind of,” Danny sniffled.

Phantom pulled away from the hug and grinned. “what i’m saying is that i’m okay, danny. it’s okay. i’m back. and besides- you know what i can do now? check it out.” He raised a hand, which immediately began to glow. In his palm, tiny, glowing green stars began to form. It seemed to be taking a little bit of effort, but after a while, he clapped his hands together and then raised them, letting the stars loose. Throughout the observatory an ectoplasmic galaxy soared around them, and James’ face was full of light. He looked... happy.

“see? isn’t it sick?”

“Y-Yeah, I guess so,” Danny chuckled, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “Guess being a ghost has a few perks, huh?”

“yeah.” Phantom smiled, then gave a small sigh. “listen. don’t tell mom and dad, okay...? they won’t... get it.”

“Are you sure...?”

“big ol’ ectoguns, danny.”

“Fair point. I’m... sorry.”

“holy shit, danny.” James smacked him lightly in the shoulder. “stop apologizing!”

“Sorry!” Another smack. “Ow! Okay, okay, I get the point!”

“good.” He looked like he was about to say something else, but a sudden chill came over the room, even worse than before. James looked suddenly agitated, and soared quickly to the window. The stars vanished. “listen, i really wanna catch up more. like, you have no idea, i missed you so bad. but i wasn’t the only ghost the portal let out. there’s lots more, and they’re mean, and i’m pretty sure there’s a new one out there right now. i better go make sure they don’t kill anybody else.”

“You don’t have to do it all by yourself.”

“i’m the only one of us who doesn’t have to worry about getting killed. i’ll see you later, okay?”

“Wait-”

“i won’t disappear, promise. show me all the pokemon games i missed when i get back.”

And with that, he was gone. The room was suddenly several degrees warmer, but emptier, too. Danny wasn’t sure how long he was standing there before a voice from behind him made him jump.

“DANNY!”

“Ack! Sam?”

Upon leaving the observatory, there they were- Sam, pacing around and calling. Tucker, lying facedown in front of the fence, clearly having messed up his footing.

“Danny! There you are,” she exclaimed, jogging over as Tucker managed to get to his feet. “We were worried you were going to get possessed.” She hesitated. “I’m sorry about before, by the way. I didn’t know.”

“Are you alright?” Tucker asked, finally having made his way over.

“Not really,” Danny replied.

He’d spent the last few years feeling like half of a pair. It had always been Danny and James, Danny and James, Danny and James, until one day it was suddenly just Danny. But now... now?

His missing half wasn’t missing anymore. Different, yes. Weird, for sure. Probably just as annoying as he’d ever been. But not missing.

Danny glanced over his shoulder, back at the empty observatory. It didn’t seem so foreboding now.

“...But I think it’s gonna be okay. Eventually.”

#fic #fanfiction #danny phantom #twin au #death cw #my writing #this was supposed to be like 3 paragraphs long #how did it end up like this

121 notes · View notes

ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Nightmares (Nate/Danny)

I ended up having a sick day from work today, so I had time to write up the second of these... after this I’m going to need some time before the next! But it’s coming, I promise!

For @badthingshappenbingo, @my-whumpy-little-heart requested: For BTHB, could you do nightmares with Danny and/or Nate? It would be interesting if they were still with Abraham, but you can do whatever you want with the prompt. Thank you :)

That ended up being… a hell of a prompt. I actually got a second request for nightmares with Ryan, so I’m going to do that one twice! It will get a second sticker. (Chronology: within the first year of captivity, but I’m not sure exactly where in that timeline)

Requested: blood stain Completed: puppy sticker

Tagging: @bleeding-demon-teeth, @spiffythespook, @special-spicy-chicken

CW: Implied/referenced/pretty obviously noncon, noncon touching, noncon kissing, referenced evidence of violence/torture. NSFW implications, although nothing outright, as always. As always, keep in mind that Abraham Denner is a bad, bad man. Well, not man… he’s a bad something.

“Psssst. Wake up.”

Nate’s used to this, so when he feels the fingertips, cold as ice, against his forehead, softly brushing the black hair back and away, he doesn’t even tense up. He floats back to wakefulness slowly, trying to cling on to the dream he’d been having.

It had been a warm and hazy thing, one of those bizarre dreams that means nothing but neurons firing at random inside the brain, the dreams he liked because they were so much better than all the ones about the living hell he’d never been able to fully escape.

He’d been dreaming about the doorbell ringing. The cabin doesn’t have a doorbell, but it doesn’t really matter, it rang anyway. Bram sent him to answer it, and when he opened the door he discovered fifteen cats in a trench coat and black film noir detective’s hat waiting when it opened.

Can I help you? He’d asked, baffled not so much by the sight of fifteen cats in a trench coat or even that they had somehow managed to find them this deep into the woods, but mostly by the fact that they were coming by so late at night.

Fifteen pairs of night-reflective eyes had turned to look at him all at once, and he’d heard Danny behind him shout, let them in, Nate, let them in!

He’d stepped back and opened the door wider, gesturing inside in that foggy ghost way you sometimes do things in dreams. As soon as he did, they simply collapsed back down into cats, leaving the trenchcoat and hat in a cartoon puddle on the doorstep and racing through the cabin.

They climbed onto the fireplace, knocked books off the shelves, meowed happily and loudly, scratched up Bram’s couch and pulled threads from the woven-rag rug.

A brightly-colored calico, vibrant with red and brown and black and white, settled herself into Danny’s lap where he sat on the floor looking around at the chaos with delight. Do you think the cats could save us? Danny asked him, smiling, as the whip-skinny calico had put her paws on his shoulder, licked a rough tongue up the side of Danny’s face, batted at his hair. Do the cats know the way out?

Nate had jumped when he realized one of them had climbed straight up him and settled around his shoulders without him realizing, a black cat with cold blue eyes that swiped gently at his hair. Baby, wake up, you have to see this, the black cat purred, rough in his ear, in Bram’s sleep-slurred, loving voice.

“Nate. Wake up, sweetheart.” The voice is low, and soft, a breath of cold air against his ear, and he shivers a little, pleasantly, at the feeling.

“Mmmmn, is Ashley up already?” He asks, and he doesn’t know why - she’s dead, she’s been dead for a year now at least, why is he asking that? But for a half-second, with Bram’s voice in his ear, he forgets.

There’s a hesitation, and then Bram says softly, sadly, “Not yet. That takes time. But look, Nate, look at him.”

He opens his eyes... and looks right into Danny’s face, baffled for a second before he remembers that Danny had slept in the bed last night.

Danny had cooked Bram’s favorite dinner without being asked, had remembered all the rules all day without even one slipup, had made their drinks with dinner perfectly and faster than ever before, served their food and waited to be given permission to get his own, waited for Bram to tell him if he could use fork and spoon to eat with without having to be reminded.

He’d even dropped to the floor to eat sitting right next to Bram’s chair like he wanted him to, with Bram’s hand petting through his hair, Danny’s eyes on the ground and the red flush of humiliation in his face.

He’s been so good today, baby, and the King always says you have to include positive reinforcement, too. Do you not think he’s earned some positive reinforcement?

Th-that’s not what I m-m-meant-

No, that’s definitely what you’re saying, that you think he shouldn’t be given good things when he’s good, Nate. That seems mean, don’t you think? Cruel to make me hurt him when he’s been so good.

I’m n-not telling y-y-you to hurt him, I’m s-s-saying leave him al, alone!

No, our pups has two choices tonight: get his reward or I’ll open all the wounds from last time up on his back again. I’ll let you choose.

Bram, pl-please-

I said choose, baby.

… the r-reward.

While Nate doesn’t particularly want to think about last night ever the fuck again (and neither, he is certain, does Danny), he couldn’t quite bring himself to regret seeing Danny actually warm for once, this morning.

He’s curled up in the center of the bed under the layers of heavy blankets, rather than the thin and threadbare things he’s normally allowed on his little mat in the living room. If it hadn’t been for the wrists bound together above his head, nearly palm-to-palm, and tied hard to the headboard, he might have even looked comfortable.

Bram had been on the other side of Danny when they fell asleep but that side of the bed was empty, now. Instead, Bram was behind him - the cold at his back where he leaned over from where he stood, fingers curled just slightly to shift back his hair, gentle and loving. Nate felt himself split like he always did into two people - the version of him that wanted to snarl and push the hand away, and the version of him that wanted to melt into the touch.

He settled for somewhere in the middle and just whispered, without really moving at all, “Is it m-morning already, Bram?”

Sometimes he stammers less when he first wakes up, when his voice is still mostly the voice from his dreams, where he never stammers at all. His dreams never seemed to catch up with whatever had happened to the connection between his brain and his mouth.

“No, baby, it’s like four.. But look at Red.” Bram’s fingers slide down, slide along his cheekbone to his jaw, take hold of his chin, tilting it up a little bit. Nate can feel the bed shift, as Bram leans his weight on it by one knee, the pressure of it along his back.

“B-Bram, I-”

“I said look. Our little puppy is dreaming.”

Nate blinks the last of the sleep from his eyes, the final hints of the cabin full of cats, the calico climbing up on Danny’s shoulder to look at him with the same bright hopefulness Danny wore, sometimes, before the darkness took it over again.

Bram settles down behind him, his cold breath on the back of Nate’s neck as the two of them look over at Danny.

Nate hadn’t really noticed it at first - he’d still been too lost in trying to find his way to consciousness, honestly - but Danny’s eyebrows are furrowed together beneath the healing bruise on the side of his forehead, and his already-rubbed-raw wrists jerk a little at the ropes, fingers twitching like he’s trying to grab at something. Nate watches his mouth moving, breaths of air that weren’t quite sentences escaping in occasional snatches of words Nate can almost, almost hear if he listens hard enough, the healing cut on his lip.

The red marks around his neck from the last round of barbed-wire are nearly faded completely, but underneath the thin sleep shirt Nate knows there are more bruises, more cuts. Danny’s back is still bandaged from the drinks incident, and Nate couldn’t forget the way he’d screamed when Bram punished him for that moment of rebellion, couldn’t ever forget the look on his face.

The top part of the bandage, the adhesive holding the giant swaths of gauze over it, is sticking up out of the neck of his shirt, nearly up to his hairline.

Danny whimpers, softly, in his sleep, and Nate winces at the sound. It’s too much like the dog Bram keeps insisting he is now.

“I think he’s having a nightmare,” Bram breathes with unabashed delight into Nate’s ear, rubbing at his shoulder with one hand in excitement. “Like a midnight snack to feel all that coming off of him. I wish you were already like us, so you could feel this, this is so… does anyone still say ‘jacked’? Or is that out of style now?”

“H-how would I know?” Nate mutters. “I didn’t know what people said before all of this.”

“I guess you wouldn’t. Still... I wish I could read thoughts, I’d love to know what he’s seeing in that head of his…”

“I al-always kind of th-th-thought you c-could read minds,” Nate whispers back, keeping himself still and relaxed under Bram’s touch, refusing to react one way or the other to the hand that runs back down his arm and curves over one hip through the blankets, rests there, like a block of ice that won’t melt holding his body down.

Danny’s little breaths are faster, now, his eyes moving rapidly under his closed eyelids, Nate struck again by the odd copper-bright eyelashes he’d never really seen on anyone else before, how pretty they are. He jerks a little harder at the ropes, whispers something, and Nate feels Bram leaning even closer from behind him, sees the sweep of white-blonde hair from the corner of his eyes.

If he doesn’t look, doesn’t see the cold ice-blue, he won’t fall in, and he can hold onto the hatred that he feels, hold on to wishing he was somewhere else. Hold on to his sense that someday, someway, he is going to get himself and Danny out of this.

I got myself out once, I can do it again.

Can’t I?

“No, baby, I can’t get into anyone’s head unless I do it the old-fashioned way, like I got into yours.” Bram’s fingers dance up the side of Nate’s head, over his ear, ‘walking’ over his hair, and Nate grinds his teeth together and keeps his eyes firmly fixed forward.

“St-... stop,” Danny whispers in his sleep. Bram chuckles behind Nate and he’s trapped - he’s stuck between Bram’s happiness and Danny’s unconscious misery and he can’t get out of this moment. All he can do is lay still, wait for Bram to move, wait to see if Danny wakes himself up. “D-don’t, st… b’good… be…”

“Oh, he’s dreaming about me, fuck yes.” Nate can hear the smile in Bram’s voice as he presses an excited kiss to the back of Nate’s neck, then pushes himself back up to get a better look. “I love when they dream about me.”

“Wh-who’s ‘they’?” Nate blinks, twisting back to look up at him without thinking. Bram looks back down and their eyes meet. Nate smiles, a little, at the man he loves and hates and cannot resist, and Bram smiles back.

“All of them,” Bram answers, as though that says all he needs to say. “All my boys.”

How many boys are there inside your head? Nate wants to ask. How many people like us have you destroyed? Also, do you actually understand that I am a grown man?

Somewhere in him, there is still a man who can think, I wish someone would bury a knife if your goddamn heart and I wish it could be me.

Stronger than that man, though, is the one who thinks, I love you.

“Stop… st, stop, ‘braham, I c’n, I’ll be good, want to be good, I… pl-... I, I don’t... stop… stop!” Danny’s whole body shudders all at once and his eyes fly open, wide open without quite being fully awake, unseeing. He pulls hard at the ropes and hisses in pain as they only tighten even more, dig in deeper. Nate sees the first smear of red just below one of his palms. “Oh god, I just, I… where-...”

“What did I do to you, Red?” Bram asks, in a low voice nearly thick with an awful happiness. He looks like wolves covered in blood on nature shows, licking their chops after eating a kill.

Danny looks slowly up where Bram looms over he and Nate, Danny’s warm blue eyes dark with Bram’s shadow as he tries to shrink back, stopped by the ropes, kept right where he is in the center of the bed. “I… I don’t… Abraham? N-Nate, why am I…”

“Don’t you remember yesterday, little Red? You were so good for me and we gave you your reward?”

Danny swallows, hard, and then slowly nods, his fingers wrapping around the ropes like he can find some comfort in holding onto them. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, I remember… I remember now.” His face turns bright red, nearly fading the scars out completely, all the way red to the end of his nose with embarrassment, with shame. “Ah, um… thank you for my re-reward-” His voice cracks a little on the word, barely forcing it out, and Nate has to keep his eyes open until they burn to avoid seeing behind his eyelids what Danny’s reward had been. “-and letting me sleep, Abraham… I’m s-sorry, I woke up, I woke you up… I’m sorry, can I go back to my mat now?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Bram laughs, sliding back and off the bed, giving Nate a few precious seconds of space and the ability to breathe and warm air at his back, before he gets back in on the other side, sitting on the bed with his legs crossed, looking avidly down at Danny like a child on the library floor at storytime. “Oh, no no no no. Nate, baby, go make us some coffee.”

Danny gives Nate a pleading please don’t leave me here look, then turns back to Bram, searching his face for any sign of gentleness, finding none - just that terrible good cheer. “Coffee’s my j-job, if you just, if you just untie me, I can go make, um, make the coffee, Bram-”

“No, puppy. Nate will make the coffee today. Do what you’re told, baby, I gave you an order.”

“Y-Yes, Bram,” Nate says, standing up himself, guilty as he all but flees the room with Danny’s eyes burning into his back… but not guilty enough to go back in before the coffee’s good and ready.

Yesterday he found something in the back of the closet and had an idea, but he doesn’t have enough courage yet to use it, and he doesn’t know how much time there is left before Bram is done with Danny, before he wants to find someone new to break.

He can’t kill him. I can’t lose him, I can’t lose Danny, I can’t.

Do you want to save him, Nate, or do you just want to have him instead?

Does it matter which, if I would never ever hurt him?

As he steps into the living room and heads for the kitchen, he hears Bram’s voice behind him, the slippery-smooth snake charmer voice, soft and vaguely hypnotic.

“I want you to tell me all about that dream you were just having… because I want to make sure we recreate it in the most excruciatingly accurate detail. If you don’t tell me, then I’ll just have to come up with something fun to do to you all on my own, hm?”

Nate hears the rattle of Danny’s ankle chain as he tries to move again. “I don’t, um, I don’t want to…”

“Since when have I given a single flying fuck about what you wanted, puppy? I told you to tell me about your dream. If you won’t - or if you try to lie, you know I can always tell when you’re lying - we’ll just have to see if maybe some time down in the dark will help convince you.”

“N-no! No, I don’t need, um, I don’t need the cellar. I swear I don’t. I’ll be good, I’ll try harder, Abraham, I want to be good for you!”

“Then prove it.”

“Just, um. Give me a sec. Will you - will you please untie my hands, then I can, I can tell you…”

There’s a silence as Nate pulls down the coffee beans and the little electric grinder Danny asked Bram to pick up on his last supply run (whole bean coffee is, um, it’s better, Abraham, this would let me make better coffee for, for you - can I please make better coffee for you, Abraham? please?) , the pressure like the air just before a storm.

“... you’ve got a deal, little Red.” There’s a pause, far longer than the time needed simply to untie the knots, long enough that Nate feels bile rising in his throat at the thought of what might be going on behind him. Finally, he hears Bram laughing, the high-pitched hyena bark he only makes when he’s truly, genuinely happy. “Oh, you’re good at that now, huh? Who says I’m not nice to you when I want to be, hm? Now what do we say when someone does us a favor?”

Danny’s voice, when he speaks, is low and soft, nervous and eager-to-please. “Th-thank you for untying me, Abraham. I can… I can tell you the dream now.”

“Don’t try to lie, puppy, you’re the worst fucking liar I’ve ever met.”

“I… I know, Abraham. I won’t. I was just-... I did something bad, so you said, you said I had to learn my lesson...”

The defeat and fear, the submission in Danny’s voice is too much. He can’t take it. He can’t, or he’s going to start screaming and never fucking stop. This is his fault, for meeting Danny, for talking to him when he caught the younger man looking at him, for agreeing to see a movie together. This is his fault for thinking he’d gotten away, that maybe Bram would let him be, think he was too much trouble to go after.

He’d made a mistake, leaving Bram, and Danny is suffering for it.

And he’s about to suffer more.

“What lesson am I going to teach you today, Red? What did you forget in your pretty little head while you slept?”

“I-I… um, I, I-” Danny’s voice cuts off, and there’s another pause that lasts too long, that Nate knows too well from long experience. His skin crawls, but it’s his fault, isn’t it, that Danny knows the rules? “-forgot the rule not to pull away from you…”

Bram begins to laugh again. “Oh, that’s my favorite rule… What do we say when we break a rule, Red?”

“You say you’re sorry and then you get hurt so you don’t break the rule again,” Danny says all at once, memorized, pushing the words out so quickly they’re barely even separated sounds. “I, I know, Abraham, but it was just a dream-”

“Breaking rules still counts in dreams, little one. Come here and let’s talk about how you can fix that mistake you made in your sleep so you won’t even dream about breaking my rules again…”

Nate jams the coffee grinder on and tells himself he’s not complicit if he can’t hear a thing over the sound.

#bad things happen bingo #Daniel Michaelson's story #bthb daniel michaelson's story #whump #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #tw: noncon touching #tw: noncon kissing #tw: implied/referenced noncon #broken whumpee #misery vampire #restrained #captivity #ropes #dehumanization #pet whump #nate really hates this one #caretaker whumpee #caretaker

139 notes · View notes

og-danny-dorito · 5 years

Text

Some Really Bad Michael Myers Headcanons, Mainly Done Because I Just Felt Like It

- where do I start with this bitch

- he's a big, angry, no-fucks-given sortof dude with a knife and many mental illnesses, but he's still a person, so he's got some personal preferences deep down under that creepy exterior as The Shape of Haddonfield

- for instance, he generally likes to sleep in his spare time, or listen to people reading to him. he's not sure why he likes it so much, but the sound of someone's speaking to him without depth or meaning in their word was put him to sleep faster than anything

- he can fall asleep in complete silence, but ironically enough it feels...empty without someone or something making noise. although he personally is very quiet, he grew up in the asylum where there was almost always some sort of noise in the room, whether it be distant murmurings of an inmate next door or a nurse walking down the halls, so he's used to falling asleep to whatever noise is going on during the day

- oh yeah, he also sleeps like a rock

- seriously, its a struggle to get him up. he barely wants to move in the first place, so getting him out of bed will have to be with some bribing or very gentle pleading, although he gets annoyed of begging out of the bedroom very quickly. your best shot is to promise making dinner all week (even though you probably already do) and to make sure he gets treated very generously for his fear or getting out of bed

- a good method of giving him praise is to actually give him a kiss. you may be thinking to yourself, ‘but Danny (that's my internet name, or call me Dann), he's a big scary man with basically no emotions and doesn't speak like at all, how can you make him like soft things that imply a domestic and somewhat healthy relationship?’ well dear reader because I said so, and also it basically makes sense. he obviously wouldn't remember much from his childhood before killing his sister, so what he does remember are snippets of his family and household he grew up in

- and to be honest, pretty much all of them are bland and leave a tight frown and sour taste on and in his mouth (respectively)

- the most evident one is of his mother, who he remembers as tired and snappy, hitting him over the head and yelling some slurred words at him for a reason he doesn't remember. he remembers the hatred, the sadness that came with the childhood he had learned to forget, which fuel his desire for blood more than anything after he's had the first taste of what it's like to take a life. he wants to be treated well, but in his mind he believes all he needs is to keep himself satisfied with blood until he's at his end

- but the truth is that he's really just a man, and he needs a bit of affirmation of how he slowly cared about from time to time. he needs someone to take care of him, to wash his hair or even do something's small like curl up in bed with him when he's asleep for warmth. I know that sounds likes he's not a desperate bitch, but he really won't admit how touch starved he is at all, so yknow there's will be pushing you away when you want to juggle him or smthn like that

- sex however?

- he highkey can and will fuck whoever, he doesn't even like have a gender preference. but when he's in a relationship with someone it makes him feel,,,bad? is that the right word? it's not the issue of hurting their feelings though, it's the feeling of it not being really neccissary to fuck someone else when you have someone's waiting at home, if that makes sense. it's saving him time and trouble to just push you against a wall and do whatever he wants

- it's usually just to fulfill urges that are more than just murderous though, like animalistic ones that can only be satisfied by contact that isn't entirely violent, but there's are times when he genuinely, seriously needs physical contact

- Michael on a whole isn't an affectionate guy, obviously, and so he won't outright ask for affection if he feels needy, and that's few and far between. if you catch him in one of those moods though, he'll usually end up standing behind you menacingly until you turn to face him. this usually resorts to him just wrapping his arms around you, holding you to his chest and just,,,standing still for a few minutes

- it's kindof a personal thing to him, validation of sorts. he may not show it, but he loves you, and know she damn well he's not who you deserve. he knows that you're stable, can function, don't have to suffering the burden of animalistic urges on a daily basis, etc. it feels wrong sometimes, wrong in a sense that he doesn't belong, even with whom he should feel the best confidant

- he needs physical affection, even though he doesn't initiate it and avoids it due to not wanting to feel a specific way in your presence. I mean, you're the first person he's felt anything with besides hatred since he can remember, so as a guy who literally kills people he doesn't always feel correct touching you, like you're a holy object or something

- coaxing him eventually gets him out of it, you just need to show him you want to touch him, to be around him

- on that note, I believe he would best be matched with a particularly needy partner. yes, he'd get agitated very quickly if you were too clingy like hanging on his arm or constantly hugging him, but he doesn't mind having his face held or being told that you missed him

- it also gives him a massive hard on when you look him directly in the eyes and say “I missed you today.” or “I’ve been waiting all day for you, you know. You kept me waiting for too long.”

- while all this may seem great, he's not exactly the best at showing his own affection and devotion for you. well, better phrased, he just shows it in different ways

- someone's been bothering you at work or giving you a hard time? expect their head to be on the table as soon as he gets home as proof they won't be bothering you anymore. some creep keeps hitting on you? ok, no head thing this time, yes he understands it's nasty but this time he'll just scare the person to death. usually he solves things with violence, so anything you complain to him about will be taken care of quite quickly

- you can imagine how easily possessive he gets. he knows that he's not the best, but that doesn't stop him from recognizing that no one else is better for you, at all. just smiling or laughing at a person’s joke when they're obviously trying to lay down something more beneath the veil of politeness is enough to get his blood boiling

- he keeps following you even after you two are confirmed as living together Andy being significant others, meaning you have to rub your temples slightly when you see a pale, emotionless mask emerge from the darkness in a fashion that would scare the shit out of anyone if they hadn't seen it and what was underneath 1,000 times

- when you finally come home, he's already waiting in front of the door and staring you down as if you've done something wrong

- you almost roll your eyes

- “Michael, don't tell me you were jealous.”

- “...”

- “Don't look at me like that! I don't even like them like that, only you.”

- he's borderline kindof a yandere, so expect to feel a little smothered by him if he's not feeling particularly mad about one of your friends but is hesitating to kill the, because you care about them. he's not the most considerate slasher, but he's not a dumbass so he won't hesitate to make sure you haven't been tipped off by a friend

- really random, but in all honesty it would crush him if you grew scared of him for this. he wouldn't recognize it first as rebellion, but after a while he would start to actually become a bit scared you didn't love him anymore. he wants to ask why you're acting like this, what he has to do to be better, but he can't get to words across so you both sit in silence, and he feels more like a monster as the minutes pass, making him more violent

- chances are if you become scared and want to leave you won't leave at all, you'll just end up being chained down to a bed in an empty room with no windows and being constantly given food by Michael as he attempts to get you back, train you like an animal to love him again

- but that probably won't happen, if you decide to see the part of him that truly is human

- he's not scared of anything really, but he does have a fear of being watched without his knowing, like a stalker. he's only ever told this to you, and it was mainly just blank ramblings as a product of his own fatigue in the middle of the night

- although he does sleep like a rock, that doesn't mean he wakes up in cold sweat sometimes, breathing and gasping for air while staring at the ceiling. he doesn't say anything for hours, merely staring and breathing heavily, reminiscing over whatever he's just dreamed of. most dreams are just black, blank canvases with nothing on them, deep and empty

- others are detailed, too realistic to be just dreams, abstract telling of a story that's familiar like a distant, unpleasant thought in the back of his head fleshed out to appear like reality. you scream at him, claw at the air a small he chokes you to death, say his name s on your lips before you turn to dust beforehand his eyes, and then silence. silence as he runs through the house, only door won't open to where they should, like a trick maze as his name through your labored breath echoes in directions he can’t follow. then the house catches on fire, and he wakes up immediately feeling shaken and disoriented as you slowly move from your place next to him to he placing a hand on his back, trying Tommy reassure him of your presence

- he blames you for this, since he never had nightmares so violently Andy so often before he met you, but he's refused to talk about them openly or try to work through them. it doesn't affect his life directly, so he pays it no mind

- and that's pretty much how it work for you two. to be honest you do most of the providing, the work, and the care, but the small moments that he finds himself confiding in you as your lover or feelings intimately close just Fromm looking at you can prove his love, although due to preconceived ideas he may not be the best at being conventional

- but who likes conventional anyway?

175 notes · View notes

zhoufeis · 4 years

Text

I’m almost finished with rewatching all episodes of seasons 1, 2 & 3 of the tribe. So I decided it’s time for a personalized summary (under the cut). I’ll be focusing on favourite storylines, favourite characters and ships... and things that surprised me while rewatching.

So, to give you a heads-up season 1 and season 3 are far better than season 2. And, to my own surprise, it’s not just the lack of Amber that’s a problem in season 2. Season 2 is all over the place. The Mallrats don’t seem like an actual family anymore, the storylines are told throughout the city rather than mainly focusing on the things that happen within the mall, some members of the Mallrats don’t even interact with each other. I suppose, actually, that this atmosphere of a broken, dysfunctional family (and not in a good way) is precisely what the writers were aiming for though considering the turnout of season 2, which, btw, I didn’t even remember like this but it’s BREATHTAKING. Definitely one of my favourite scenes in the entire show, which was a huge surprise to me because I just couldn’t remember anything that was positive about season 2. But besides the season 2 finale, there was actually more. The attempted rescue of Trudy - I did remember this, it was a picture of the show that has been stuck with me forever and watching it again reminded me how incredible that scene was. My favourite thing about season 2 of The Tribe as a child was... who would have thought, Ellie. And she still is. She’s less biased than most people in there and looks at things with morality and rationality alike, but she always takes different perspectives. One of my 3 top characters in season 2, which leads to the surprises season 2 had in store for me: Alice and Tai-San. Honestly, I don’t remember loving Tai-San nor Alice as a child very much. I changed my point of view on them completely. Tai-San in season 1 might not be my fave, not even close, but starting with season 2, Tai-San actually becomes awesome. Her quotes were always great, but in season 2, her actions actually have consequences and she makes valid points when verbally fighting her own tribe members. I guess it also makes it easy to side with her because she constantly fights Danni, but well, that’s just a personal preference. The friendship of Alice and Tai-San is another of my fave things about this show, and I didn’t even remember it. They’re so different and yet have such a nice understanding for each other that their argument over Lex really hurt to see. However, like all good f/f friendships... a guy isn’t worth giving up a friendship about, which these two eventually prove. Therefore, Alice and Tai-San were my favourite surprise about my rewatch.

But enough of season 2, let’s talk season 1. Season 1 is great. While the first few episodes are slow-moving, by the time you get to episode 10, you just wanna keep watching and watching and watching. I don’t know exactly what it is - the drama, the characters, the fact that you basically only ever follow the events in the mall and barely anything outside of it... I don’t know, but it’s great. What I don’t understand is the hatred that some of these characters have to endure in the comment sections. This specifically goes out for Salene and Trudy. I mean, yeah, it’s not like this is the only season they’re hated on, but I feel like this season is the most constant when it comes to hatred towards both characters. Honestly, I love them. Do they annoy me sometimes? Absolutely. But basically all of their behaviour and actions are explained - post-natal depression, an eating disorder, or the simple fear of being alone (btw, all very well-developed storylines and well-explained for children); all of it is understandable if one puts themselves into their shoes for a moment. I do feel extremely bad about what happens to Ryan and Salene in season 2+3 because they deserved better but... I cannot hate Salene for it. Salene obviously has a lot of problems with herself, which she must figure out first before she can accept someone by her side who clearly accepted her more than she ever did herself. This leads us to Ryan. Ryan... God, Ryan. Ryan deserved better and I’ll forever cry about him. His character development from the guy who blindly follows Lex to the pure, freedom-loving, rebellious, kind guy who just wants to live in peace with his Mallrats is... tragic if you consider what happens to him. Never again will I forget the look on his face when he realizes that Salene is telling him he cannot see his child. So to sum this up: Salene and Trudy deserve more love by the fandom; Ryan deserved more love by the writers. So did Patsy, btw. Has anyone ever seen a child character suffer that much?

Now... what did surprise me in my rewatch? The amount of characters I actually like or even love. Actually, there’s barely anyone I don’t love. I mean, when it comes to character depth, this show is one of the most well-written ones because the characters are not just one thing or another. They’re multi-faceted, multi-layered and you can understand most of their reasonings even when you don’t agree with all of their choices. And by “most” I mean there are exceptions. Some things you aren’t supposed to understand - you’re supposed to judge it negatively. I suppose, Lex in season 1 often falls into that category. However, it’s difficult to hate him afterwards, isn’t it?! His relationship with Tai-San is nice to watch, his love-hate relationship with Bray is entertaining, his parenting with KC is... questionable but all the more fun, his devotion to Zandra even after her death is beautiful, his friendship to Ryan is interesting, his friendship to people like Alice, Ebony or Amber is just wonderfully fun and... unlikely. So, who do I hate in my rewatch so far? There’s just three names coming to my mind and I’d like to make a difference here. I hate the Guardian. Like everyone who watches this show should. However, he’s an interesting, entertaining character to watch and he’s not someone I wish had never been in the show. The other two characters I really, really, really dislike... they’re this category of characters I wish had never been on my screen: Ned and Danni. While I do see that Danni was just this poor substitute for Amber, but was incapable of making up for Amber, I just don’t see the point in Ned. Maybe the show wanted someone to kill off none of the viewers would mourn. I certainly couldn’t. I was actually happy when Moz turned around his body and his dead eyes were staring into the sky. Kind of made me like the Guardian to 1%. #SorryNotSorry. However, Danni is a more interesting case here to discuss because there’s two things that went wrong with her character. The first thing that went wrong is the fact that she was definitely too much like Amber but she just WASN’T Amber. Also, as you may or may not have noticed... I’m a Bray/Amber fan. And I do admit, I might be biased. Then again, I love Pride. Like I looove him so far. I didn’t when I was a child, but I do now and I’m happy to. Sooo, the fact that I dislike Danni must be more than just me loving Amber/Bray. But well, still, viewers don’t like having to get over their favourite characters with characters who are basically like them but aren’t them. And the second thing that went very wrong with Danni’s character was the casting choice. The actress just was really, really bad.

Which actually leads me to some noteworthy comment about the acting on this show: I was positively surprised how good it actually is. Like, duh, not Oscar-worthy. But I could have sworn it’s as bad as the Power Rangers series or teenage-driven shows like The Next Step. I suppose, that actually has something to do with the fact that I would watch the German dubbing as a child rather than the actual English versions. Now that I’m a grown-up, I’m watching the English versions ofc. And it actually isn’t bad acting. It’s better than most of the acting that I see on The 100. There are a few who stand out for being very good compared to the others and there are a few who stand out for being quite horrible compared to the rest - the actress of Danni falls into the latter category. But Dwayne Cameron, Beth Allen, Caleb Ross, Meryl Cassie and Michelle Ang actually make great leads. And there’s a couple more actors and actresses who are really not that bad. I also like to give this show credit for the fact that they mostly actually cast children and teenagers - most other children- and teenage-driven shows are incapable of doing that.

I don’t know what to say about season 3 of this show other than pointing out that it’s just well done. I love how it starts out with the rebels not being in contact with their Mallrats who have been enjailed in the mall by the Chosen. I like the Chosen storyline, I also love how it sometimes drags religion in general... it’s nice to watch. On the other hand, watching the rebels in the form of Lex, Ebony and Bray is just entertaining and fastmoving, which makes up most of season 3 anyway and goes by fast. The development of Ebony’s reign over the city is a storyline that starts pretty early on but takes up more and more screentime with every episode of season 3. She’s a great character who has always moved the plot forward and you just know that this will go very, very wrong for Bray and Amber. She’s always been established as an energetic, mesmerizing, charismatic leader who fears no means to get to her goal - season 1, 2, 3... Bray should have listened to Amber and Lex. They warned him. The only thing I dislike about season 3 is the romantic development between Alice and Ned. Then again, I really love Alice and I really hate Ned, so it’s understandable. Furthermore, unlike most of the fandom, I’m not a huuuuge Jack fan. I mean... he’s fine, but he never will be my favorite character, which is why I didn’t mind that he was gone for quite some time. I have to admit that I liked him a lot more in season 1 because he was mostly shown spending time with Dal there - and I should mention, Dal is one of my absolute faves. In season 2, Jack mostly behaves like a jerk towards Dal, which made him lose points with me. Tbh, I’d also rather ship Ellie with Dal than with Jack... but mostly still... Dal with Jack. And Ellie with Luke... or did anyone else get gay vibes from Ellie and Ebony? Because I did. Basically, I ship a lot of things on this show. Ah, right, another thing I should mention... most heartbreaking moments: Dal’s death and Ryan finding out he won’t get to see his child. Also... peak acting on this show of Beth Allen and Ryan Runciman there. Anything else... ah yes... surprises... KC. I love KC. I don’t remember loving him that much, he’s fine in season 1, he’s better in season 2, but I just LOVE LOVE LOVE him in season 3. Barely makes up for the loss of Dal, but I love KC.

Soooooo... let’s summarize obvious things. After 3 seasons... - Top 3 female characters: Amber, Tai-San, Ellie. (special mentions to Alice and Ebony... and also, Trudy and the kids and... really, I love everyone) - Top 3 male characters: Bray, Dal, KC. (special mentions to Ryan, Pride... did I mention I love everyone?) - Characters who deserved better by the writers: Ryan, Patsy, KC, Bray, Zandra. - Characters who deserve better by the fandom: Trudy, Salene, Bray, - Favorite canon ships: Bray/Amber, forever and always. I also really like Tai-San/Lex as well as I like Lex/Alice. But we all know the best option here is Alice/Tai-San. I really am warming up to Pride/May right now... and I will always love Salene/May. I also don’t understand why the show didn’t go with Trudy/Salene when they were RIGHT THERE AND PERFECT. Istg, Ebony and Ellie are also a thing. But well... the child in me could watch an entire show on Bray/Amber... and I guess... grown-up me isn’t that different ;)

#the tribe #ktda #mischa for ts

9 notes · View notes

kakarmasobessioncorner · 4 years

Text

Hope your Holiday has been swell my Truce target @lexiepiper ! Here I have written you a lil something for your gift, if you have an A03 I’d love to know the username so I can properly link the fic to you on the site when I upload it. ^^ I hope you like it. <3

Can we Bridge this Divide Born of Lies?

Warnings: Alcohol use (just minor thing) Characters: Vlad Masters, Danny Phantom/Fenton

It was a chilly Friday evening in Winconsin, the perfect temperature for Danny. If he was out flying for any other reason than what he was he’d likely be in a good mood, however even the whisperings of the approaching winter in the air couldn’t distract him from the worry of what awaited him.

What he was doing was probably a really bad idea. Disastrously bad. Almost stepping into a questionable portal that wasn’t working for reasons unknown bad.

He was off to visit Vlad. Of his own free will.

Sam and Tucker had tried to convince him to at least wait so they could come as backup in case things went south, but he had a nagging feeling in the back of his head that this was an issue better dealt with sooner than later.

“Hey Fruitloop! You home?”

He didn’t bother to knock as he just flew right in through the door, carefully going room to room, wary of setting off any alarms as he looked for the other. Calling out as he went.

“Fruuuuuitloop! I’m not here to fight, I gotta talk to you about something!”

‘Okay maybe calling him a name he hates isn’t a good idea for a peaceful visit...’

The thought only paused him for a moment before he continued his search calling out for the other. It took him ten minutes of going from room to room to find the elder halfa. Surprised to see him with several empty bottles of something that looked like it may have been alcohol scattered around his feet and several more still full on the table next to him.

The charged Ectoshot on the other hand, wasn’t so surprising. “Daniel, what are you doing here.” He looked thoroughly unimpressed. “More importantly, what do I have to do to make you leave.”

“Now there’s no need to start shooting Plasmius, and I could be asking you the same thing. That doesn’t look healthy.” He knew that Vlad had been acting off the last few months but he wasn’t expecting this. “Are you okay?”

The look he got was concerningly lacking the normal fire.

“Daniel just tell me why you’re here. As you can see I’m clearly busy, and I know you don’t really care beyond your ‘hero complex’.”

Slowly Danny drifted to the ground, he and Vlad may be enemies but the scene in front of him was just screaming to his obsession. It felt so wrong to see his confident and powerful nemesis looking so empty and run down. He had seen that he’d been less and less into their fights, getting the feeling almost like they were just running through a script at this point. Still, he didn’t suspect it was this bad. “That’s not true.”

The elder scoffed, going to take another swig from the bottle in his hand. “Please, your hatred of me is pretty clear, and even I can admit, warranted-”

“I never hated you!” The interruption stunned him into silence, a shocked look on his face and bottle still halfway to his mouth.

“I never hated you, I hated what you did and how you acted, but I could never bring myself to hate you.” This wasn’t why he came here, yet he couldn’t seem to stop himself. What felt like a pull from his very core was pulling this confession out of him. It had been a long time coming and at last it seemed the final straw was found. “How could I? You made everything look easy while I struggled! The only other one like me was so cool and made fights look like you barely winded when I was putting my all into it.”

He took a deep breath, collecting himself from the sudden outburst flopping down in a seat across from the other.

“I didn’t come here to fight Vlad, and I didn’t come here because of some ‘hero complex’ that I do not have.” A small pause before he added in a voice barely above a whisper. “I’m tired of fighting. Will you just, hear me out? And stop trying to drink yourself into a stupor while I do so?”

It was a few tense moments of silence before he got his reply.

“Very well little badger. You have my undivided attention, and I was never going to get that drunk. Our ghost side makes it so alcohol has a much harder time affecting us, and I always had a high tolerance even before that. This is nothing.”

“Good, tha- wait hold on what? Really?”

“Yes Daniel. Our advanced healing also fights it off faster than a normal human, but less then a full ghost who would be unable to get drunk off of human drinks at all. Rather useful at times and assures you’ll never have a hangover.”

“Oh that’s going to be so fun to abuse in college if I get that far...”

Vlad cocked an eyebrow. “Didn’t you have something you wanted to say?”

“Right! Right, just uhh,” Danny sat up after a moment of hesitation, pulling his backpack he’d been wearing to sit in front of him. “This may poke at some old wounds… but it’s for a good reason, you just have to hold out!”

“That’s not exactly the most promising start, but fine, go ahead. I'll try to resist shooting you.”

“Gee thanks.” But he didn’t press the matter, just taking a moment to collect his thoughts, “Okay, well, you said that after your accident Mom and Dad never even tried to visit you right?”

He got a dirty glare at that question. “Yes, how could I ever forget Daniel?”

“Sorry, but that didn’t line up with their side of the story!” He opened his bag and pulled out a folder, rifling through the surprising number of pages in it. “See, they were going through some old albums a few days ago and found some old pictures from college. I was being held hostage as they reminisced, but noticed as they were talking Dad got sad mentioning how they tried to visit but the nurse turned them away saying for the first while that they couldn’t visit, and later that you didn’t want visitors.”

“Well your father is an idiot-”

“Shut up, I’m not done.” The teen interrupted. “I questioned that, and Mom confirmed it. So I did some digging with some help and…”

He pulled a memory stick out of the bag and held it out.

“We found the security footage someone attempted to delete, and it confirms it.”

“You… hacked into the hospital records…”

“Well no… I didn’t… but that’s not important.” Danny again interrupted, ignoring the dirty look. “You can get mad at me for the invasion of your privacy when I’m done talking okay? Okay.” He waited for any other comments, and when none came nodded to himself. “Okay, but yeah we checked and thought it was weird. If they were telling the truth that they visited, and you were telling the truth that they seemingly abandoned you, why would some random nurse stop clearly concerned friends from seeing their friend? Then I saw her name.” He pulled a couple pages out of the file and handed them over. Inside on the first sheet was a bunch of information on a woman named Celesta Peneppor, with bright red hair and striking green eyes she almost seemed to be smirking in her photo.

“I swear I’d seen her somewhere before and turns out I was right. She didn’t bother to disguise herself and her name was a freaking anagram!”

The next page was surprisingly professional looking despite been clearly made by the trio of teens, full of information on a ghost by the name of Penelope Spectra. “She’s a monster who feeds on misery, and mentioned in one fight I had with her that ‘Halfas have such potent feelings’ and I didn’t question it at the time, but this does make that make more sense.”

The teen folded his hands in his lap as he watched Vlad look though the sheets he was given, waiting for a reply.

“Why did you come tell me this Daniel.”

The room was silent long enough that Vlad was going to talk again, to tell him to just leave, when Danny beat him to it and spoke back up.

“You looked so happy.” He was quiet, looking down at his folded hands. “In the pictures. I found out your hate was directed at the wrong person, and I can’t blame you for some of how you’ve been before since I know that if I was in your place, losing those I cared about in a painful sudden way, I would be a mess too… or worse…”

Vlad looked for a moment like he was going to interrupt, but Danny just kept on talking. Looking up from his hands and locking eyes with him. The teen's eyes looking far too mature for someone his age, eyes that knew more than most.

“Betrayal and loss can make even the most morally just person into a monster, but they didn’t betray you. They thought you hated them for what happened and that’s why you apparently had the nurse turn them away, and yet they still kept trying to keep in contact because they cared despite Spectra’s keeping them away. They were, especially Dad, so happy when you came back into contact. But now you know who’s really at fault, and you can direct your anger at the right person who deserves it.”

His voice had turned almost desperately hopeful at the end, eyes so heavy and tired.

"It's not that simple, little badger."

"Why not? Can't you at least try? What do you have to lose? Your pride? I beat that into the dust in our fights all the time!" His core ached in a desperation he hadn’t been expecting, the pull from it making him feel like he had to make sure Vlad at least tried. "All you have is things to gain from it. Like your friends back...and..."

He stood up, walking up to Vlad with his head held high and hand held out, as unwavering as the determined look in his eyes.

"A truce? Or hopefully even an alliance?"

It was silent for a few moments as if the elder wasn’t going to reply, so he added softly.

"Please. Just try."

He put down the drink, and for a moment Danny thought he was going to shoot at him to make him leave, but instead both his hands came out to grasp his outstretched one.

"You're not the only one tired of fighting my dear boy."

“I’ll try.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

When Danny eventually left after a while of them talking about the best way to go about his ‘trying’ to reconnect with his old friends, something the boy seemed to have put considerable thought into and was dead serious about supporting, Vlad slumped. Running his hand through his hair.

That had not been what he was expecting when he felt the other's signature entering his mansion. He’d thought the younger Halfa had been coming to blame him for something that was going wrong back in Amity Park. Not...whatever that was.

“I hope you're not expecting anything immediate. My own long held grudges aside, they don’t think anything was wrong. Your bumbling idio-” A glare from Danny had him stop to correct himself. “Jack, may not notice if I try to act more civil around him, but Maddie certainly would notice and likely get suspicious.”

The teen chuckled. “I mean she definitely noticed that you were acting like a creep-tastic fruitloop before, so that would be a big change.”

“Precisely, and I’d rather avoid being accused of being overshadowed. Their weapons do hurt after all.”

“Yeah you don’t have to remind me…” Of course he didn’t. Danny was shot at far more often than he was, more often then he really wanted to consider. “But there’s a simple solution.”

“Do tell.”

The teen took a seat, not even bothering to go back to sit in the seat, just letting himself float up cross-legged.

“Have you ever seen any cheesy reality shows?”

“Of course not.” Vlad Scoffed, looking downright insulted.

“Guess even you aren’t that evil… but yeah so Jazz likes to watch it to analyze the characters and even to me it’s really obvious what the problem is.” Something was off, and he had a feeling there was more to it than that. “Just, tell them. Tell them the truth.”

Danny very quickly got a look that told him what the other thought of that idea, namely how stupid he thought it was.

“I thought the goal was to not get shot.”

“I don’t mean the whole half-ghost thing! I mean the ‘I thought you abandoned me so was a bit of a dick’. Just apologize for being off around them and admit you want to try again if they do still want to be friends. They’ll freak out thinking you hated them, act confused, and all is good!”

He leaned back doing a little flip in the air with a quiet ‘Tada!’.

It was an admittedly decent idea all things considered once it was talked out and it was worded better...mostly considering who it was from, but it would be hard to push aside his pride enough to try.

However after the teen had left, Vlad noticed something odd.

For years he was bothered by the little nagging feeling, a feeling that he instinctively knew once his core had developed was from his obsession begging to be indulged. He had learnt that as a Halfa he wasn’t as strongly driven by his obsession as full ghosts, and even less than Daniel he’d later noticed. He could ignore it, but it was like an itch you can't scratch that only got worse the longer he ignored it.

It was when it reached a simply maddening level that he decided to try and go after his revenge at last. The beginnings of planning finally, finally, seemed to scratch the itch. He was working towards his obsession and that alone was enough to help lessen the pull, but it was also like a drug. He wanted more, and so worked harder and became more focused. He knew that…

It took him awhile to realize though.

A while of causing harm and driving away the only other of his kind in an obsession driven case of tunnel vision he only broke free of when it stopped helping his obsession. Stopped feeding that drive and just leaving him tired, and alone.

Alone. Alone.

It hurt, and the need to feed his obsession eventually snapped him out of his craze and made him realize he was alone and that he was in no way making progress to the family he so wanted to love.

He was tired.

Still he continued in his ways, trapped in a routine that no longer helped him and just put him further and further from any chance to be happy. Only getting the smallest spark of joy from his fights with Danny though the bantering, and even that was utterly eviscerated once it was over, only to be replaced with a pain from acting against his obsession.

This was different though, for the first time in ages it faded almost completely. Just from talking with the other halfa peacefully he felt amazing, even more so than when he first started working to take Maddie as his own.

Daniel actually cared. He didn’t hate him and wanted to be allies.

All he had to do was let go of the hate he’d been harboring for years… hate that was apparently misplaced. It would just take him putting aside his pride for a little to do so, but ghosts were naturally prideful things and that was a ghostly trait he had picked up, be it from his contamination or just his rise to power. It was a strong part of him and he was loathe to go through with the blow this would land on it.

However his core screamed to follow through with this chance for fulfillment at last.

He had two weeks to decide if he would go through with Danny’s plan.

Two very long weeks to argue with himself he wasn’t looking forward to.

Only time would tell.

#Karma's Writing of Obsessions #Karma's Current Obsession: Danny Phantom #Danny Phantom #danny phantom fic #holiday truce 2019

20 notes · View notes

averyonelovesjack · 6 years

Text

stick together ~ daniel seavey

requested: yes

@andreaj2000 hi! i love ur writing and I was wondering if you could do a danielxreader where like you both work at a summer camp and like Daniel's a hot lifeguard and you’re a cabin counselor.

summary: you and daniel work at a camp together and you bond easily over the hatred for the other staff members

warning(s): cursing

word count: 1813

author’s note: i hope you enjoy!! i tried my best to write this. unfortunately i never went to camp but the majority of this is based off of one of my friend’s camp experiences and what he told me. i apologize for inaccuracy:)) it also did not go in the direction that i exactly had planned but i’m content with it. i’m sorry if it’s not what you asked for :((

I watched as the little kids ran around the small playground area that had to be at least twenty five years old. My group was a tiny group of eight girls all between the ages of 7 and 10. They were a sweet bunch of children and almost always listened to me, even when I told them that it was too late for them to be staying up at night. I listened as the blow horn went off that signaled for the all groups to switch activities.

A few girls ran over to me, “(y/n) where do we go next?”

I smiled down at the children as they looked for an answer from me so that they could head off to the next activity for the day. It was the first day of the new session which meant that activities were still being declared and explained, so they hadn’t memorized where to go next, “the next activity is the pool with the cabin next door to ours”

They all cheered, always enjoying their time at the pool since it was very large and always fun for kids to splash around in. I giggled as the group of girls began to run off towards the large locker room area that had recently been cleaned, thankfully. My feet couldn’t keep up with their little ones as I followed them into the locker room, trying to be sure that they were going to be safe in there. The girls all had their bags of swimsuits ready and already started going into the stalls to change.

After most of the girls had changed, I quickly reminded that they were not to leave without my being with them and then stepped into the stall to change into my swim wear. Being a counselor at this camp meant that I must have CPR and lifeguard training because despite the fact that there was a full time lifeguard, they liked to be cautious and knew that I would have to keep an eye on my girls. I changed into a blue bikini that I had bought last summer and then threw my white counselor shirt on top. The girls all gathered around, waiting for me to be finished and when I signaled we were ready to exit the locker room and find the pool.

The other group was already out there and as the girls fooled around whilst getting in front, I took careful notice to the new lifeguard this year. His hair was a light brown shade and perfectly done up and he had the most adorable tooth gap that made him stand out in the group of lifeguards that had worked here over the years. his abs showed through his white tank top and i couldn’t help but flash the adorable boy a smile.

I watched as the cute lifeguard sent me a smile, “alright is everyone here?” the two groups of girls agreed and he smiled, “i’m daniel and i’m the lifeguard here this year. Before I let you guys go in, there are a couple rules to keep you guys safe”

My mind dazed from his voice as he recited the same rules that applied every year, but he had to say them. I admired his name. daniel. it was sweet, and although common, it wasn’t overly popular. it was adorable.

suddenly, i heard cheering and watched as the girls started getting in the pool. the other counselor started to laugh as daniel and i joined, “i’m hannah”

the other counselor introduced before i smiled and introduced myself, “i’m (y/n)”

“it’s nice to meet you both”

My girls were all sitting at the table with their food when I went up to fetch my own food from the buffet. There were an array of ok options as I picked out a few different things and I hear someone start talking next to me.

“hopefully the food has gotten better over the years” I turned to see Daniel, the extremely attractive lifeguard.

“not by much” i admit sheepishly to the tall boy, “you went to camp here?”

“the amount of summers i spent here is kinda crazy” he laughs, scooping some ‘stew’ onto his plate, “had to take a couple years off for touring and such, but found some time to come back this year”

Touring? strange, “working here is a lot different than camping here”

“day one and i’ve certainly learned that” Daniel sends me an adorable smile.

“i guess the best part of being a counselor is that the kids don’t make it as dramatic as i remember camp being” i tell him, “i don’t know if lifeguarding is the same, though”

he shakes his head, “i definitely understand why they put rules in place. i’ve been stressing that some kid is gonna drown. but the drama factor is certainly not there anymore”

I agreed, “my fondest camp memories are when some girl thought she was knocked up and the guys would sneak into our cabins when the counselor had fallen asleep, despite the high possibility of them being caught and being banned from returning to camp next year”

“i guess once you get older, you sorta don’t get caught up in that kind of shit” Daniel tells me.

“honestly, there are girls that are counselors who i loved when i was thirteen but now they’re complete bitches and they let their campers go out at night and do reckless shit”

“that seems to be a pattern i’ve seen here” daniel tells me, “but those were always the favorite counselors when we were here”

My head nodded immediately, “oh yeah. Daniella Hughes, best counselor in the entire world. She didn’t give a care in the world when we’d sneak out early in the morning to go see the sunset or when other girls would bring beer into the cabin or when guys would come in to hang out after dark”

“and now look where we are” he laughs, “we’re the hated staff because we need the paycheck and can’t afford to get fired”

“forreal” i laugh, recognizing how easily the two of us agreed and bonded, “and i hate the girls who are like dani. I can’t stand when they are careless”

“yeah, me too!” he smiled again, “you and i have to stick together around here”

I couldn’t help but smile at the idea of being friends with the hot lifeguard at the camp, “definitely”

Daniel and I sat with our feet dipped in the pool, a purple and pink sun setting in front of us as we listened to the sounds of the campers from miles away. The ceremonial end of camp bonfire was tonight and as much as I wanted to spend time around a bunch of screaming eight year olds, groups of horny and visibly drunk fifteen year olds, and gossiping thirteen year olds, daniel and i had other plans. He made no commitment to the bonfire and I could easily sneak away for an hour or so, and that’s what we did.

“i can’t believe camp is over tomorrow” he tells me, his eyes looking out into the dark shed that sat in front of the locker rooms and pool from where we were.

“this brings back so many memories of my last summer as a camper” i told him, “i remember that we’d snuck out to meet with a bunch of boys at the tents. We’d been hooking up there all summer and we were all very sad about it being our last night there, so we had, like, our own ceremonial hookup there. it was very artsy at the time, but thinking back to it we were just idiots who should’ve been caught”

he laughed at my story, “i remember my last summer as a camper was when i was fourteen. i wanted to come back the next year but instead i was doing music and at the time i was trying to get on idol. so while all my friends came back the next year, i went on to chase my dreams”

I smiled at his story now. He was a dream, everything about him, “you win there. not the idiots who returned here”

he nodded his head, “it’s really quiet tonight”

“oh, do you not hear ilia screeching the words to baby by justin bieber?” i giggled and he joins me, kicking his foot out to splash the water around a little bit.

“she’s a mess” he admits to me, “an adorable mess though”

“very cute, yes” i tell him before silence reaches us and i don’t know whether or not to force out the question, “do you think you’re coming back next summer?”

he turned from the vision of his feet to look at me, “i don’t know yet. my life’s kinda busy right now and i’ve got a lot to look forward too. but then again, as much as we shit talk this place and bust on it, i’ve had an amazing time this summer. it brings back some of the best memories from summers as a kid”

there was nothing for me to say. i agreed with every word that came out of his mouth. this summer had surely been eventful for us, but in amazing ways. we’d found our way to make this summer one for the books, despite our working along the way.

“and you?”

I turned to face him and gave him half a smile, “i’m going to college this year. there is so much for me to look at this year, to work up to. this summer was something that i will never forget, i can certainly tell you that, but what the future holds for me. i don’t know. in some ways, i think i need to get away from this place. leave this small town and go find something big and important, but in other ways, this camp has given me some of the most amazing things and i don’t know if i’m ready to move away from it”

the night sky shone down on us, the stars twinkling brightly as we stared at each other, “no matter what we chose or how far we go, we’ve still always got each other, right?”

i nodded my head, a smile finding its way onto my face, “always”

in that moment i saw the look in his eyes. the look of the fifteen year old boy leaning in to kiss the fifteen year old girl that he’d liked all summer. and i saw myself as the fifteen year old girl leaning in to kiss the boy she’d liked all summer. with the sparkling stars above our heads, my lips interconnected with danny’s, sending sparks through my entire body and shivers up and down my spine.

this was the perfect way to end my experience at this camp.

#daniel seavey #jack avery #jonah marais #corbyn besson #zach herron #daniel seavey imagine #why don't we #wdw #imagine #fanfic #camp #counselor

217 notes · View notes

dailyjcink · 4 years

Text

Daniel Fenton/Danny Phantom | 35 | Half-Ghost

Canon Lore History

First off, you are more than welcome to meddle around with Danny's history! This is quite inevitable to have him adapted and what things have already been established already do so.

Appearance: Just like Vlad, Danny is meant to hold two forms. Normally, he has a pale complexion, blue eyes, and black hair. He is likely on the taller end. The only abnormality, which I have established through Vlad, is that he should be aging slowly. While Danny is thirty, he probably appears to be in his twenties still. It is entirely up to whoever takes up Danny whether he is aging slower or faster than Vlad.

His ghostly form looks similar to him, as his hair is white, his skin a bit darker, and his are bright green.

Personality: Danny's personality is open to whoever takes him. I imagine that there are changes since he has obviously not only grown older but I have also based his life on the alternate timeline (aka most people he knows are deado and he was raised by Vlad). He is meant to have grown closer to Vlad despite their history of conflict, the bond, much like the show, spawning from mutual loneliness.

History: Most of what is needed can be found in either Vlad's application or the above link. However, to briefly summarize, Danny's life is meant to be similar to the alternate timeline (meaning things in the later seasons did not happen). As such, his friends, family, and English teacher die despite an attempt to help. I do not state WHO was behind this, so it could have been someone other than Dan. Either way, Danny is meant to believe it to be a murder but is likely not open about this since Vlad still thinks it is a tragedy.

Things that largely deviate is that I imply that things like ghost portals might not exist (whether the ghost zone does is up in the air but if it does it might be a bit different), I do not make it clear whether Dan exists, and the alternate timeline obviously went a bit differently since Vlad clearly never gave into any grief ridden requests from Danny. Outside of that, I have softened Vlad's characterization somewhat (not to say he's good but I got rid of his more insane actions).

Play-By: Lucky Blue Smith is suggested.

Valeria Gray | 34 | Human

Valerie is someone who learned the hard way that the magical world is not always a wonderful, but can often be the sort of place that barges into the lives of humans without caring about the damage it wrecks. When she was fourteen, an unusual incident- in the show, it was due to a ghost dog- that was rooted in magic cost her father his job. As a result, her world was quickly upturned as her family lost their wealth, struggling to make ends meet. For Valerie, she quickly learned that many of those around her were shallow and had only been her friends for what she had.

Later, a grudge is born towards ghosts when she becomes affected by the problem while Danny is trying to fix the source of the problem. While, unlike many like her, she becomes willing to work with some when it is required, this grudge appears to never properly heal.

Personality: Once a selfish and cruel person, Valerie has become a kinder individual due to the harsh hand life has given her. She is stubborn and persistent, more than willing to fight her own battles not matter how difficult they appear to be and only willing to accept help when it is either forced upon her or it is beneficial enough that she struggles to say no.

At the same time, she is easily the type of person that many individuals might consider to be a villain. Having become disillusioned with at least a small part of the magical world, she definitely believes in it. Unfortunately, Valerie is clearly an ignorant individual who lacks much information about the very beings she claims to hate, considering them mindless and out only to harm others when they are actually little different from herself. She's a hunter, but as far as she's concerned she is the hero and is protecting people.

Appearance: Valerie is African-American and a year younger than Danny. She has long, wavy hair and green eyes. She's meant to be thing, but has a bit of curve to her.

History: Canon Lore History

Valerie's character is heavily tied to Danny and Vlad. In the past, she hunted Danny, not only because she believed him to be a ghost but because she blamed him for the misfortune in her life. This hatred is something that Vlad took advantage of. Anonymously, he provided her with high-tech gear so that she could hunt. It was only later that he revealed himself to her. While she was wary of him, the two formed an unholy alliance, Valerie clearly viewing Vlad far more useful despite whatever she thought of him as he was able to upgrade what she already had.

Valerie never actually learns that Danny Phantom and Danny Fenton are one and the same. She's not meant to know Vlad Masters and Vlad Plasmius are one and the same either [while the cloning incident happened, I didn't write Vlad ever turning to Valerie during it].

Exactly what she is doing now is open, but chances are that she is still in contact with Vlad.

Play-By: Valerie's play-by is open, but she MUST be POC. The image shown is of Tamera Mowry.

Dani Phantom | 21 | Unstable Clone

Dani is a clone of Danny that was created by Vlad when he began to succumb to his loneliness and give up on ever persuading Danny to become part of his life. He does not currently know she exists.

Appearance: Overall, Dani looks similar to Danny. When she was created, she looked about two years younger than him. Whether this is still true is entirely open as chances are that her biology works differently than both Danny and Vlad despite appearing to have similar powers as Danny. Overall, she can be best described as looking like his little sister.

Personality: Dani is meant to be a bit similar to Danny, but what separated them is their experience and age. She is clearly more cheerful, childish, and naive when compared to him, something that doesn't seem to change too much even with her bad experiences. Exactly how much she may have changed over the years is open, but I do imagine that these specific traits may have not entirely left her.

History: Dani's history can be found in Vlad's application.

When Vlad was 45, he found himself in a state where he had begun to give up on ever finding happiness and, more specifically, Danny. As a result, he turned to science. While it might have seemed impossible, he was not one to give up. He tried many times to clone Danny, figuring that if he could not convince the boy to become his son then he would merely create a clone and raise it as if it were his own.

This is how Dani came to be. She was the most successful of the clones and the most stable. Unfortunately, Vlad viewed her as a mistake. He was aiming to create a perfect clone of Daniel and Dani was not that. Moreover, he was quite convinced that she would eventually decompose as the rest of his clones had. However, even Vlad had lines and killing a child who was convinced that he was her father definitely would be crossing them. As such, he sent her on a hopeless mission, telling her that Daniel had the solution to her problem and she only had to get it from him.

This eventually worked against him, as Dani and Daniel form a close bond. As a result, when she eventually brings Danny to him, she realizes that the "perfect clone" he wants to make is not her but a new male clone. Danny and Dani put a stop to this and Vlad never sees Dani again.

Something that should be noted is that some of the darker aspects of this plot line were taken out (such as the implications of how poorly Vlad treated the failed clones).

It is preferred that she still be an unstable clone.

Original Want Ad

#jcink #jcink ad #jcink site #jcink rp #wanted-ad #fantasy #supernatural #1 year #submission

0 notes

miss-m-calling · 4 years

Text

Juletide 2020 letter

Dear writer,

Hello and thank you for writing for me. I’m very excited to read whatever you come up with.

Without further ado…

Starred Up

Oliver Baumer, Eric Love

Yes I do ship it, I do, I do!

Ahem. Don’t get me wrong, I liked what the movie did with the father-son relationship and its influence on both men’s character development – but I really wish they hadn’t got Oliver out of the action before the story’s climax (not like that!). The final denouement with Love father and Love son was great, as was the hint at the end that Eric learned something in anger-management group and has a support network that will help him a lot. But. I would have wanted to see more of the intriguing dynamic between Eric the intelligent, semi-feral, yet not-incorrigible, young thug and Oliver the educated, dedicated, kind yet aware of his own potential for violence (what was he on about with “I need to be here”?), slightly older counselor. They had me at Oliver’s “I want him” and Eric later telling his father that Oliver’s a better man than Love Sr. Also the not-flirting and the push-pull in the scene when Oliver picks up Eric from his cell - yowza!

For this canon, my dubcon DNW does not apply.

Prompts:

-I would love to see Oliver return to holding his group in prison, so the two of them can interact more, either in the movie’s immediate aftermath or years down the line, as it’s implied that Eric will be serving a long sentence. Give me more scenes from anger management or the ribald, honest, free-flowing conversations in group, either with the other men present (I liked Hassan and Tyrone especially, among the group members) or a one-on-one session.

-An oblique or open-but-undramatic admission/declaration that they both know there’s something there, even if they don’t know what to do with it. Or, one or both of them knows exactly what to do with it, and the push-pull that would result from that.

-Dirty talk: used for arousal, as a defense mechanism, as a form of flirtation. Eric using slurs to assert dominance, and Oliver not letting him hide behind profanity, when he can use colorful language to express emotion and/or sexual interest. There could definitely be some verbal taunting/flirting about who wants/is eager to do what or is good at doing something. There may be some sniping comments about logistics and (lack of) condoms and barebacking and what men get up to in prison. There probably wouldn’t be deep discussions about sexual identity.

-An emergency in the prison requires a lock-down, so Oliver gets temporarily stuck in Eric’s cell or another room with only Eric for company. Things get porny and/or emotional.

-Eric is eventually released (you can handwave this so it happens soon after the movie or have it happen years later) and crashes with Oliver while he adjusts to the outside world. You guessed it: things get porny and/or emotional.

-How do they get to the point where both can cross that line from friends/whatever the hell they are and become, to lovers? (There’s Eric’s personal history and general discomfort with vulnerability, plus all the ways prison sex can be or make things complicated, and if it helps, I headcanon Oliver as either gay or bi and at least somewhat closeted, at work especially.) Who initiates and “directs traffic”? How does their always-contentious dynamic shift during and after sex? Is the sex an isolated (series of) occasion(s), or a progression/escalation over multiple encounters (how would I love especially an escalating series of encounters, let me count the ways)? Eric might seem like the logical initiator and/or dominant partner as well as using the possibility of sex to manipulate and exert control, but then Oliver might (or might not!) surprise him and is definitely the one more in touch with himself as well as aware of his custodial duty toward the men in the group.

-At some point in their intimate relationship (probably not right at the start, and probably not in prison, though if you can make it happen in prison, more power to you!), Oliver decides he’s going to take his sweet time and make Eric fall absolutely apart with pleasure, while using dirty talk to both arouse and empower Eric to own his desires – by that point, Eric is in a place where he can let that happen and enjoy it, even if he still talks tough.

-Role reversal: Oliver as the con (jittery, shut off, sticking out like a sore thumb in prison with all his fancy learning, yet no pushover) and Eric as the newbie counselor (kid from the wrong side of the tracks made good? Youthful hoodlum turned around his life, now trying to help others via tough love and lots of swearing and maybe a bit of manipulation when called for?)

Witchblade (TV) Sara Pezzini, Danny Woo

I used to love this show back in the day, and loved it again in all its hokey gloriousness when I rewatched it recently. Sara figuring things out and being a principled badass, but maybe out of her depth with the Witchblade, and her dynamic with Danny, whether he's a ghost or alive, it’s all catnip to me. Sara is not extremely quippy, she has a job to do dammit! and don’t look at her vulnerable side, just don’t look at it!, and I love that about her (she’s much harsher in S1, after Danny’s death, than in S2); ditto that Danny is somewhat softer than she is, but still can hold his own thanksverymuch (well, when the plot doesn’t require him to get nabbed by bad guys) and has a bit of a deadpan snarker side too. I’d love something that plays around with their canon dynamic from either season, or uses canon as just a starting point. Some of my prompts lean dark or horror-y, so don’t be shy about going there; I’d also enjoy a story in which the Witchblade itself ends up not being very significant (say, they start to investigate a possibly mystical case and then nope, plain murder). Canon-specific DNW: Irons and any version of Nottingham appearing (you can mention them if you need to).

Prompts:

-The Witchblade is more parasitic than symbiotic, and instead of Sara learning to control it, its feeding on Sara affects her more and more over time. Or, the visions and dreams ramp up into full-blown paranoia and/or disassociation. The Witchblade's POV, maybe (it is sentient)? Asking for help is the hardest thing for someone like Sara, but what are (more than) friends for? I’d also enjoy a dubcon scenario (exception to blanket DNW) where Sara really shouldn’t be having sex when her head is all messed up by the Witchblade’s influence, but… well… they do. The Witchblade canonically enjoys violence and bloodshed perpetrated by its wearers, so it stands to reason that it might lower other inhibitions too.

-Witchblade v. mythological monsters. In S1, even with everything else that's going on, Sara absolutely scoffs at the possibility of vampires. So of course I want: Witchblade v. vampires! The scarier and more feral, the better. Or, it's implied that the Witchblade was forged from a meteorite, so it's basically an eldritch artefact from outer space. Yes, please lean all the way into the Lovecraftian tropes! (The moon is turning red, the Old Ones are back, it’s the end of the world as we know it, but Sara’s got her partner by her side.) Or something from Chinese mythology, so Danny can kick extra ass. Or, for a silly take on Chinese culture: Sara and Danny in the world of Big Trouble in Little China (another old fave of mine, the entire plot of which revolves around… a woman with green eyes and an unwanted connection to the supernatural).

-The Witchblade has a reputation for abandoning its wearers just when they need it the most. True to form, it slips off of Sara’s fist, leaving her and Danny to save themselves with good old-fashioned guns, fisticuffs, martial arts, and of course having each other’s back.

-More of the psychedelic-ness in many of Sara’s fight scenes, where now she’s a woman in a leather jacket with a gauntlet on her arm, now she’s a knight in armor! Now her opponent is human, now he’s a wolf-shaped spirit of evil and hatred! Playing around with the characters’ senses and perceptions – yes!

-Instead of seeing only Danny and needing him to play intermediary for Sara to talk to other ghosts, the Witchblade makes Sara see ghosts all over the place, and it's getting to her. Ghost!Danny may or may not help with that. Or, ghost!Danny is basically always around, whether Sara can see him or not. He manifests when Sara is masturbating, and you can't really feel guilty if the ghost of your dead partner whom you’ve always had a thing for helps you out, and anyway you’re probably going crazy and none of this is real, so it doesn’t count anyway... right?

-Case fic/stakeouts and banter. Flirting to pass the long and stressful days at work. Quick and guilty sex because Danny's married. Slow and intense sex if handwave he's not married but “oh noes we’re partners, we shouldn’t be doing this, but somehow we keep doing it anyway.” Hooking up in the car. I've always headcanoned that they had a thing pre-canon which ended for Reasons, but they both kinda wish it hadn't, hence the hand kissing, and the “I can’t even touch you,” and the coffee bringing/stealing, etc. So feel free to play around with that.

-Undercover as married, undercover as a gangster and his moll (LOL at Sara as a moll, or have Sara as the gangster and Danny as her arm candy), undercover as “they think we’re fucking, better fake it real good for the people listening in, oops shit got real fast, careful don’t say each other’s real name or you’ll blow your cover.”

-More timey-wimey shenanigans with the Witchblade. Maybe it allows Sara to manipulate time more than once. Maybe she starts doing it way too often, throwing the continuum out of whack (something non-linear would be very interesting). Maybe she and/or Danny remember some or all of what happened in S1. Something about all the multiverse versions of them, possibly splitting off from a dramatic moment. Time loops and feelings are a combustible mix.

-Apart from the super obvious shippiness, what I like about S1 especially is how Sara rolls with the weirdness the Witchblade has brought into her life, instead of reaching for rational explanations. More of that (I can't think of a better way to put it), and double extra brownie points if alive!Danny figures out at least some of what's going on with Sara's bracelet and somehow gets in on the action. Maybe a Danny saves the day divergence? Or how about a loophole that allows a man close to the Witchblade's wearer to wield it temporarily, but There Is a Price to Pay.

킹덤 | Kingdom (TV 2019)

Prince Lee Chang, Seo-bi

I fell so hard for this show. So hard! The beautiful production values, the wonderful cast, how the characters develop, how the show slowly but surely unfolds one reveal after another and packs so much into two short seasons, all the period detail, the genuinely tense action scenes, the moments of humor and intense emotion, the intertwining of political intrigue and zomg! really scary zombies, how the zombie outbreak works on multiple levels both literal and metaphorical…

I love the brave, kind-hearted, but sheltered prince, whose whole life has been so privileged yet shadowed by the possibility of death if he loses his position as heir, learning what it means to actually rule and lead people, to protect them and be protected by them in turn. And I love Seo-bi the fearless, dedicated, selfless physician, who notices things and figures things out regardless of whether this annoys the people in power. I ship them, but I also love their platonic interactions, how instantly and fiercely loyal she is to him (not just because he’s the crown prince, but because she’s seen how brave and altruistic he can be) and how he immediately takes her advice and experience seriously despite her being a woman and a commoner in this super-hierarchical setting. So I’m good with either / or & for this pairing, and you can work with any of my prompts accordingly. In a / fic, I’d even be good with a totally sublimated, “they both must kinda know what’s going on between them but for reasons of both their personalities and their respective genders and social positions, nothing overt ever gets said or done” scenario! So don’t stress too much over which flavor of dynamic you write for them.

Also, I love most of the cast (not a huge fan of Chancellor Cho, but he is an effective antagonist), and would be delighted to see any of them in fic too. Especially the loyal and funny and badass Mu-yeong (he was loyal, despite the Haewon Cho clan’s blackmail, and if you want to diverge from canon so he lives, I would not mind that at all), the even more badass and wounded and snarky Yeong-sin (or is that “Yeong-sin”???), Chang’s sparky, exiled uncle several times removed, and the terrifying and frankly unhinged young queen are my favorites. I even have a soft spot for that mostly-useless coward Cho Beom-pal, but really, they’re all great and I would love reading about them too, or just about the prince and the lady physician – whatever works!

Finally, before I get to prompts, I know a bit about the Joseon period, but we’re talking the bits and pieces I remember from a college class, and what I’ve read on Wikipedia and picked up from this and other Korean movies and shows. I know a bit more about some of the cultural background, like the Confucian values, the social stratification and feudal system, the gender segregation among the aristocracy, the wars with Japan, but again – my knowledge is limited. So if you want to teach me stuff about Joseon, go for it! If you want to invent or handwave stuff, as long as it fits the canon’s mood and broad cultural parameters, go for it! And if you want to treat me to some worldbuilding, period detail of any kind, and/or costume porn, definitely go for it.

Prompts:

Zombie fighting anything! Learning to survive in a society that’s rapidly breaking down, having to transcend their habitual social roles and challenging each other, anything! Maybe one of them teaches the other to hunt, or to make herbal medicines, or to fight with a sword, or heck, to cook or clean dirty clothes. (FYI I wrote most of these prompts before I was quite done with S2, and the time-skip took me totally by surprise. So while my prompts ignore Chang renouncing the throne, I’d also be down for the untold adventures of the former prince and his traveling companions, as Chang learns how to be just regular folks and they pursue clues about the resurrection flower, or for your take on what happens in S3. Use whatever works for you in my prompts in any way you want!)

Figuring out how the zombie infection continues to evolve and/or working together to find a cure beyond dunking the infected in water – whether that means to destroy large numbers of the undead, or to develop an antidote, or to cure and bring back those afflicted. One plot detail that really struck me: more experimenting with zombies, like Chancellor Cho started to do, might also hold the key to a cure?

Political intrigue anything! Having to fight zombies and/or factions at court with both friends and unexpected allies (not gonna lie, I would have loved to have seen the young queen unleashed on some zombies, even if that did not make her the prince and Seo-bi’s ally).

More road trip/survival/battle goodness – maybe Seo-bi offers Lee Chang some advice while they’re navigating their new situation, or she witnesses him developing his leadership muscles, and it brings them closer together than before. Or maybe a moment of humor, relaxation, or quiet affection on the road or in between zombie-slaying, especially if it catches them both a bit by surprise. Or one of them gets a non-zombifying injury (nothing too gruesome or life-threatening, please!) and the other one has to care for them – extra points if Seo-bi is injured and the prince kind of bumbles through the most basic things so she has to talk him through her own treatment. Or nightmares/being triggered by something, like we saw both Chang and Seo-bi react at the sounds of zombies growling and people screaming in S2E5.

We have seen Seo-bi insist on staying loyal to the prince, and Lee Chang rely on her repeatedly to the exclusion of all his other people – give me a situation in which he has to make clear his own loyalty to her, as a part of both his becoming a better leader and as a step in advancing their relationship. Or, there comes a time when Seo-bi really pushes against the rules of what someone like she can and cannot say or do to/around a crown prince – we’ve seen Lee Chang refuse to stand on his dignity to the point where so many of his interactions with commoners would end in the commoners’ death, but I imagine even he has his limits, and that kind of clash can only drive this dynamic forward!

Canon divergence in which Seo-bi gets sent to the capital and assigned to be the personal physician to the petulant, frustrated prince we meet at the start of the show (handwave the gender segregation and impropriety). She knows her place, but she also does not suffer fools or male nonsense. Sparks fly, social conventions get tested, zombies may or may not happen, and a new mutual understanding is born.

Canon divergence from the scene in S2E2 when Seo-bi finagles her way to being allowed to see the prince and he instructs her to resurrect Ahn Hyeon – what if instead of that, they came up with another plan of escape? Or maybe Lee Chang sending Seo-bi to spy on the queen goes a different way than in canon? And really, anything that requires those two to pass secret messages while grabbing each other’s hands and staring intently into each other’s eyes is A++ with me!

One theme which emerges gradually, and I really loved, is people having to compromise their principles to survive and ensure the safety of those they feel loyal and/or obliged to: Ahn Hyeon agreeing to turn the sick villagers into zombies, dear Mu-yeong having been a spy but also protecting the prince all along, Seo-bi resurrecting Ahn Hyeon, Lee Chang instructing her to do it as well as his thousand-yard-stare after having to finish off what’s left of his father… I’d love to see more such compromises, how their consequences ripple out, and the emotional fallout.

In addition to zombies, other magical and/or supernatural events and creatures start to appear in Joseon. If you want to bring in something from Buddhist mythology or Korean folklore, please do, and any and all worldbuilding would be awesome. One possibility that occurs to me – and I’m going for broke here – is: a dragon awakes in his cave and shit starts hitting the fan.

Post-canon something in which Lee Chang is king, possibly of only a part of the country (maybe a zombie-free enclave, or a part he won in a civil war against the Cho clan or a cadet branch of his family), and Seo-bi is there as his advisor, physician, and unofficial chancellor. Gimme policymaking to deal with the lingering zombie issue, and assassination plots, and servants/guards/ladies in waiting gossiping like it’s their real job, and all the palace intrigue!

Kind of related to the previous: even as a “spare” prince, Lee Chang can’t marry a commoner. Would he ever think to offer Seo-bi to become his concubine? I don’t think she’d go for it, and he might realize it, but maybe I’m wrong! Or maybe being intensely platonic at each other is as good as it gets for them, and they’re kind of okay with that. Or they get married in secret and have to very careful not to let slip anything by word on gesture in public, or not to let Seo-bi get pregnant. Or, y’know, one day or night on the road or in a fortified town, in between scavenging for supplies and fighting zombies, they decide to bone just because their lives are weird enough now to forget about propriety and all that jazz for an hour.

Role reversal: Seo-bi is the sheltered, willful princess fearful for her position (especially since she’s a woman as well as the daughter of a concubine only) and Lee Chang is the proper yet willful provincial physician. Do they meet as in canon, or under different circumstances (maybe she must flee the court to escape assassins, accusations of treason, or an arranged marriage, with or without bonus zombies)? How would their dynamic be complicated (and made awesome of course!) by the gender reversal? Also, burning question: does Princess Seo-bi already know how to fight (because she forced Mu-yeong to teach her back at court, of course), or does she have to learn once zombies/brigands/insurrection/whatever happen? And does Physician Lee Chang know one end of a musket or sword from another, or does he need rescuing at some point?

I realize that some of these prompts could work as well (better?) as a no-zombies AU, and that’s fine if you want to take it in that direction. Just so we’re clear. J

Likes:

I love pre-canon, canon, post-canon, canon-divergent, and missing-scene stories. I love character-driven and plot-driven stories equally, and I love fics which mix humor and angst/serious business when appropriate for the canon.

I love stories about characters at work and play, group dynamics, family dynamics (including constructed families), professional partnerships, friendships, alliances, rivalries, intimate couples (new lovers/first times as well as long-term/established couples), UST-ridden couples who are not just UST-ridden but connected in other ways too, etc.

I love irony, snark, humor as well as angst arising from the characters rather than the plot crowbaring it in, linear, non-linear, and 5+1 stories, hopeful endings, happy endings, bittersweet endings, worldbuilding, spiky characters who keep their jagged edges and spikiness in adversity as well as when their lives are going well, square-peg-in-round-hole characters, characters who are their own worst enemies as well as those who can get over themselves when the occasion calls for it, characters with conflicting values which may or may not be reconciled/resolved, characters who treat each other with respect and as equals even if they hate/annoy/can’t stand/love to dislike each other.

I especially love workplace stories (this can mean anything from an actual workplace/casefic/procedural setting to anything that revolves around the canon world in which the characters live) in which the characters are competent and dedicated to the job, and while they may not be exactly friends and they may well irritate one another, they still manage to rub along to get the job done and maybe even grow to care about one another (much to their surprise and sometimes reluctance/discomfort). Or, if they can’t get along, show me why not and what’s preventing them from finding common ground.

In terms of ship dynamics, I love (where it fits the characters) banter, competitiveness or antagonism shading into attraction (this tension need not be resolved), oh-god-why-did-it-have-to-be-you-what-did-I-do-to-deserve-this, bickering yet loving couples, characters who are serious about their romantic interests, characters who think they are much better at flirtation than they actually are, characters forced to work together only to prove much more compatible than they initially assumed, fics which mix an exploration of characters’ professional and everyday lives with shipping. A dynamic I cannot resist is shipping a couple who are incompatible in some important way (they are ideological enemies, cop and criminal, spies from opposite sides, one betrayed the other or they betrayed each other), and while they love and want each other they’re also not willing to change sides or surrender/compromise their identity for the other’s benefit, and how they might (or not) make their relationship work anyway.

I don’t have any very specific likes for smut, other than smut fitting the characters – show me how their canon dynamics spill over into the bedroom (or other place of congress). I also like sexual scenarios that subvert expectations a little and surprise the characters themselves (e.g., the person who’s usually quiet or more passive taking charge, the more aggressive person goes with it possibly snarking or commenting on it as long as they can). And I like sexual scenarios that contain an element of competition, antagonism, oh-god-this-is-a-bad-idea-but-we’re-going-for-it-hammer-and-tongs, not wanting to admit feelings or show vulnerability except oops it happens anyway, whether the characters acknowledge it or not, or just people getting way more into it or being more affected by it than they thought they would. When it fits the characters and their canon dynamic, you also can’t go wrong with we-both-wanted-this-for-forever-and-now-we-both-know-it-so-here-we-go-diving-in-headfirst. For het and/or slash, oral, vaginal, anal incl. pegging, manual (ifyouknowwhatImean) – it’s all good. You can go as veiled or as explicit as you like, but please avoid excessive medical jargon – I don’t find a lot of mention of “penis” or “clit” sexy.

DNWs:

MPREG, A/B/O, knotting, D/s, kinks, incest, underage, genderswap/genderbent characters, xeno, non-/dub-con, torture and abuse (this and non-/dub-con can be mentioned if the story needs it, but please don’t dwell on it in loving detail or subject any of my requested characters to it), dwelling on bodily fluids (mentions of gore/blood and come are fine), toilet humor, character bashing, issuefic, gender/sexuality/race/ethnicity/religion/ability/identity headcanons, unrequested ships, soulmates and soul marks, major character death (the exception is Laura Moon in American Gods dying so she can become undead), serious illness or injury, pregnancy and children, holiday or wedding setting/theme, secondary characters shipping the main pair like it’s their job, reference to RL current events, 1st/2nd person POV, unrequested crossovers or fusions, AUs which have nothing to do with canon

#dear author letter #juletide 2020

0 notes

viktorredemptionarc · 7 years

Text

Fic: I’ll go jock-casual, you can do formal-goth [JayceViktor]

A/N: Available @ AO3 too. This is the +11k words high school au that nobody (one person) asked for and I couldn’t get out of my head.

Word Count: 11.021.

Characters/Relationships: Jayce/Viktor.

Rating: T for language.

Summary: Senior year is going great for Jayce until Viktor happens.

The Science Fair of his senior year is supposed to be the highlight of Jayce's high school career. The event that'd put every other experience to shame, the greatest moment of his youth.

No matter how sad Vi thought that this idea of his was. Or the fact that she was the only person alive allowed to know.

It was important to him; and if she couldn't get that, the problem was hers. Jayce got her point, vaguely. He'd been dragged to enough high school parties to get why she thought they were cool, but what was cooler than having your scientific talent recognized in front of the full student body?

Nothing, if you asked him.

Virtually anything, if you asked her.

He's pretty confident in his win. He's won every single year without fail. And he's proud of what he's done, too. It's nothing special, is what he's going to say when asked, just a simple super-capacitator to optimize electronic devices' charging time. No biggie.

Child's play, really.

But when his time to be judged comes, no questions are asked. No surprised gasps come. No thinly veiled admiration is delivered. The judges leave his table in silence, and Jayce fights a battle with himself to keep a forced smile plastered on his face until they're done judging everybody else.

What. The. Hell.

He looks around, and sees nothing but mediocrity staring back at him.

That is until he makes eye contact with The New Kid, smirking by a fully functional mechanic prosthetic arm displayed on his table as if it's no big deal.

As if prosthetic arms don't cost around eight thousand dollars, on the cheap side.

Jayce breaks eye contact and frowns at the device on his table as he feels something that he rarely experiences.

Fear. Insecurity.

Envy.

The horrifying, dreadful, and paralyzing idea that he didn't work hard enough and now that new kid with the ugly black skinny jeans and the combat boots is going to snatch his prize away because he got too comfortable. Too accustomed to winning, too careless to try harder.

Which is absurd, because he knows that he worked his ass off on it. And he's gotta have faith in it. Who is going to if he doesn't?

Jayce collects himself, takes a deep breath and avoids looking at the new kid until the judges are done. And they stand in the middle of the gym.

And the Physics teacher holds the mic to his mouth.

And declares Viktor Evans the winner of the Science Fair.

-x-

On his first day of high school, Viktor thought that he had stepped inside an obscure cult's headquarters by mistake.

Everywhere he went, everyone he talked to, they all shared one thing: Jayce Sawyer.

Whether it were the student council presidency posters, the football team propaganda or the whispers around the halls, Viktor couldn't take a single step without having to deal with this guy, whoever he was. Which, to be fair, did raise his curiosity to an extent for the first few hours.

Even though it had died by oversaturation by the time he finally laid eyes on the one and only Jayce Sawyer himself.

Jayce entered Contemporary Literature running and out of breath, and Viktor raised an eyebrow from his sit. He was...just as one would expect the star of the football team to be. Exactly as every teen movie told you that the most popular dude in school was. He was handsome, and athletic, and tall, and broad shouldered, and Viktor hated him since the very second he opened his mouth.

"Sorry Miss B," he said. "I had a meeting with the boys, you know how they get."

Then he winked, and Viktor not only hated him, but took the executive decision to never in his life speak to him.

-x-

"How did you manage to build a fully functional mechanical prosthetic arm without having to sell a kidney?" Viktor considers ignoring him. It has worked, so far. Jayce didn't know who he was, Viktor had to deal with the entirety of the student body mythologizing him to the point of absurd devotion, fear, and hatred, neither of which Jayce seemed to be aware of. It worked for everyone.

He closes his locker and turns away from Jayce, only mildly surprised when he grabs at the sleeve of his jacket.

"Hey, I'm talking to you," Jayce frowns at him when he turns around with a sigh, holding his books to his chest. This is...not a very good situation to be in. Not one he's wanted to be in, ever. His only motivation to even try to do good at the Science Fair were scholarships, pissing Jayce off was a surprising and welcomed bonus.

Until now.

"Yes, I gathered as much," he says, slowly, and Jayce lets go of his sleeve and crosses his arms scowling. "I was trying to ignore you and see if you'd go away, but no such luck."

Jayce bristles. "Do you know who I am?"

"Is it possible not to?" Viktor gestures at the walls, covered as they've been since he got there in Jayce's face and the words PAVE THE WAY in neon green.

Jayce makes a very odd thing with his face, that looks like he's in pain but also angry. Viktor drums his fingers on the cover of a book. If Jayce doesn't say anything in ten seconds, he's leaving.

He's gotten to eight when Jayce snaps.

"But seriously. Why? How? Where did you even get the materials to build that?"

Maybe Jayce was like a band-aid. The fastest you dealt with him, the fastest you could go on with your business and the least it'd hurt.

"Scholarships. Effort and wires. I rented a 3D printer, cuts the costs by more than a half," he says, barely even pausing, and Jayce blinks at him and gapes. "There isn't any more to it than that, and I would appreciate it if you'd stop harping on it. Sorry your ego got stung?"

"It's not..." Jayce pauses and frowns, and Viktor is losing his patience. "It is a bit about my ego. I just needed to know, okay? The Science Fair was important to me."

Viktor does not believe for a second that Jayce Sawyer, jock extraordinaire, thinks that the Science Fair is more important than any other football match. Not that he blames him, but it would be nice not to be lied to.

But whatever.

He does know that Jayce has been winning first place in the Science Fair since he was in freshman year, though.

Intriguing.

Yet not enough to make him ask.

"Fascinating. Can I go, now?"

"I'm not holding you at gun point, am I?" he makes to leave, he does, but Jayce holds his sleeve again and Viktor would like to say that yeah, maybe he isn't holding him at gun point but he sure as hell is fond of clinging to him like an asshole. "Wait. I didn't mean why in that way. I. Just. Why a mechanical prosthetic arm?"

He sounds pained, and Viktor gets it. A little. Not like a super-capacitator is any less of a flamboyant choice, but. Yeah. True.

"I like cybernetics and reading on their implementation in everyday life," Jayce snorts, which rude, but Viktor loathes to comment and having to talk to him for another minute. "I'm going to be late for Physics C, can I go now?"

Jayce shrugs and waves him off.

Viktor is late for Physics C. Jayce is already there when he arrives.

-x-

Vi's room is obnoxiously pink, and Jayce is aware that it's a declaration of war to all and any who ever dared think or say that she wasn't girly enough. As is her hair, which is also hot pink. She defies the world with every step she takes, a walking paradox, and Jayce wouldn't have her any other way.

Which doesn't make her pink walls hurt his eyes any less, with how saturated the color is.

"I painted it last week," she smiles, pointing at it proudly, and Jayce sniffles. "Don't be a baby. It's intense, yeah, but you just gotta get used to it."

"If you say so..."

She smacks his shoulder and sits on her bed by his side, smirking. Jayce knows that look, and it's one he doesn't like.

"Prom is coming," oh no. No please, no thanks. Prom is awful. Prom is hell. Prom is the very thing he's been dreading since he was ten and his mom let him watch Carrie with her. Prom is something awful that always ends in tragedy. A dark mark in his teenage years that will embarrass him to remember forever. "You asking any hunk out?"

As if. Vi is the only person in the world, including his family, who he's out to. It's a matter of reputation and fear. He's every teenage movie fantasy rolled into a single person, the Troy Bolton of Piltover with just enough Danny Zuko thrown in the mix to keep it interesting. It's how he naturally is. Gifted. Not his fault.

It comes with its perks.

Like the risk of ruining the status quo, with which he's pretty comfortable with thanks, by being out. And being more or less obligated to attend prom.

Jayce avoids her inquisitive look and coughs. "No, I don't think so. Any chicks in your radar?"

He dodges, as he sometimes does, but is alarmed to see her deflate by his side.

"No. I tried to be out, but they don't...they think it's a phase or some shit. I don't know."

She shrugs, and Jayce is confused and out of his element. It's usually the other way around. He comes to Vi moping and she puts his pieces back together. Dealing with emotions is not his strongest suit, but he can try. That's the least he can do.

"Hey, it'll work out. And if we can't find anyone, we can go together."

She snorts, and Jayce is relieved to see her smile again. "Yeah, sure. As if we need any more rumors about us dating. They hurt my chances with the babes, you know?"

"Tragic," she nods, and Jayce is glad to have her. For some reason, even though he's popular, people seem to...not want to talk to him much. Viktor's reaction when he tried to speak to him comes to mind. It's worrisome. "Hey, Vi. What do you know about that Viktor guy?"

"The one who won the Science Fair?" Jayce grumbles and she laughs but doesn't insist. "Not much. He doesn't like you. Doesn't talk much. Kind of a goth vibe with all the black clothes, but who knows. Why? You like him?"

She wiggles her eyebrows and Jayce slaps his hand over her mouth to hush her. No. Absurd. Never. Viktor is not the kind of guy he'll ever be into, and he sucks anyway.

"No. Shut up. I just tried to talk to him the other day, about his project, and he was super rude and I don't know why."

"It's because you're an arrogant dick," she deadpans, muffled by his hand, and Jayce isn't even offended.

"Maybe. It's not as if I can't be one, have you seen me?" he lets her go and gestures at himself, and Vi shoves him off the bed.

"Out of my house. Get out of here. I want your ass out of my space," she kicks him softly, and Jayce laughs as he stands and leaves the room flipping her off.

-x-

"I wish I could be like Jayce."

"Jayce is an asshole."

"What bullshit is Jayce going to pull today."

"Christine told me that Jayce once snogged her and Laura Davis the same day."

"Isn't Jayce just dreamy?"

"Jayce's been going out with Vi since junior year."

"I don't want to anger Jayce. Who knows what he'd do."

"Jayce helps at the local shelter every single day. Rob saw him."

This is Viktor's high school experience every single day.

Jayce this, Jayce that, Jayce Jayce Jayce Jayce Jayce.

Jayce in class, Jayce around the halls, Jayce's plastered all over the walls.

Jayce fans, Jayce haters, Jayce mythomaniacs.

Jayce friends?

One to his knowledge, not that he cares.

Viktor enters the cafeteria and the first thing he hears is Jayce's voice, loud and clear.

And sure enough, there he is. Letterman jacket and all, sitting with the head cheerleader and talking as if there is nobody else in the room. Viktor hates him, but he hates himself even more for staring.

The girl sitting with Jayce, Vi he thinks, catches him looking and waves with a smile and Viktor feels like pointing at himself and asking if she's one hundred percent sure, absolutely certain, that she wants to be seen establishing contact with the guy who everyone still calls New Kid. If they have to call him anything at all.

She keeps waving.

What is he supposed to do.

He raises a hand and wiggles his fingers, fully aware of how awkward he looks but what other options does he have? Approach their table and talk? To them?

Not in a million years, thank you.

Viktor stares in wonder as Vi smiles at him and elbows Jayce in the ribs. Hard. Then points his way, and Jayce kind of waves? At him? Too? Kinda. A little.

Thinking about it later he'd say that it was a tactical withdrawal. That he did not run away, no siree. He left the cafeteria because he wasn't that hungry to begin with, he was sick to bastard death of everyone waxing poetic about Jayce, and he wanted nothing to do with him. That'd be his reasoning, and he'd be pretty content with it too.

Right there and then, he feels like he's about to puke. Insecure and small, angry at himself and angry at Jayce for existing and making him feel in the spotlight. So he leaves, before it gets worse and he has to deal with the situation any longer and decide whether or not to wave back.

It turns out to be a mistake, as he discovers the next day when he finds Jayce hanging by his locker staring down at his phone.

He's wearing his letterman jacket again and he looks up when he hears Viktor approaching, regretting it almost instantly when Jayce beams at him as if they've been friends since freshman year.

"Viktor, my man!" if he says my main man next, Viktor is going to punch him. "My main man!"

Right.

Viktor punches his arm. Jayce doesn't even flinch and yes, it could've been more effective but he feels slightly less frustrated with the world at large. A little.

"What do you want."

"I..." Jayce hesitates, and it's surprising enough for Viktor to stop trying to open his locker and look at him. He's staring down at the floor, and Viktor is. Well. Viktor is intrigued, for lack of a better word. "Believe it or not, not many people here are willing to talk about robotics."

Jayce looks back up at him, sheepish, and Viktor is horrified to realize that he feels sympathy for him. Oh, the horror. The absolute dread.

"Cool. I guess. Or...uncool? Why do I care about this, exactly?"

He opens his locker more forcefully than necessary and Jayce flinches. "I figured you'd...be? Interested? In talking about robotics?"

Viktor hangs his head and takes a very deep breath. Slowly.

He would like everyone around him to get the message he tries to project with how he presents himself quickly. The message being leave me the fuck alone, thank you very much. Honestly. He dresses in all black, he's a walking loner teen trope. Awkward and socially inept, that's what he is.

Why must the most popular kid in school (trademark) be obsessed with talking to him. He'd love to crack that, but also to forget about it and go on with his life without ever thinking about it again.

"Listen, Jayce," he starts, and tries to be as clear as he can. Even if he has to be brutal about it. "I do like to talk about robotics, I just...don't want to do so...with you?"

He glances Jayce's way checking for a reaction and finds his face...oddly blank. Worrying. Better than anger, better than tears. But weird.

"Why?" Jayce's voice is low, strained. Viktor grimaces.

"Why should I?"

"Please," Jayce says, and it sounds more or less like pooleese and Viktor quirks an eyebrow and closes his locker to stare at him as a grin spreads across his face. "Aren't you supposed to be like super smart or something? What's up with the silly questions? Of course you'd want to talk to me, why wouldn't you?"

This conversation is going in circles and Viktor's head is starting to hurt. Though he dreads to admit that Jayce's arrogance is sort of funny, in an awful kind of way.

Viktor scoffs and tries to shove Jayce away. With little to no success. "I'm afraid of your ego getting big enough to suffocate us both, that's why."

Jayce, wonder of wonders, snorts. Viktor stares at him trying to mask his disbelief, cover it with disdain or aloofness. Whichever gets Jayce to leave. Judging by how Jayce's grin grows, he's failed. Quite spectacularly, too.

"I bet you love the Borg."

"Of course I do," he bites his tongue, hard, because he has answered before he has thought about it and he wants to kick Jayce's look of contempt out of his smug ass face. "Why am I still talking to you."

Jayce leans across his locker, arms crossed, and Viktor bristles and takes a step back. Too close. Much too close. No thanks.

"Why shouldn't you?"

Viktor turns on his heel and leaves Jayce right where he is.

-x-

It's been a week and Jayce might still not be over it.

At all.

"He likes the Borg."

"So you've said. Twenty times in the last five minutes."

"He does not like me."

Vi stops fiddling with her phone and looks at him over the rim of her sunglasses. "Tell me something I don't know."

Jayce sneers. "The new girl is coming this way and she looks ready to kill a man, or you, or both before fifth period starts. So am gonna bail and see if I can find Viktor somewhere."

He jumps off the bleachers and takes a second to enjoy Vi's panic as the girl marches her way before he takes off. He's a man on a mission. On one that he is not one hundred percent sure why he took, if he's to be completely honest with himself.

Luckily for him, Viktor is so easy to spot that he doesn't have enough time to reflect on that before he finds him.

He's sitting with a book on the stairs to the main building's entrance, alone. His hair is an absolute mess and Jayce should tell him that black is not the only color available at stores, but he doesn't think it would be welcomed advice.

It's not as if it's a bad color on him. The whole broody teen aesthetic fits the sharp features like a glove.

Jayce struts his way as casually as he knows how, which isn't very casually at all, and Viktor is digging a hole through his skull with his eyes by the time he reaches the steps he's sitting on.

"What is it now?" he asks, before he even has a chance to say hello, and Jayce shrugs and picks at the sleeves of his jacket. Curiosity, he guesses. A little bit of pettiness.

"Just wanted to talk."

Viktor smiles, but it's cold as steel. "Well I don't. So that's settled. Bye."

"About the ethical and aesthetic implications of performing body modifications when not needed," Jayce says, and Viktor frowns at him and heaves a sigh.

"Define body modifications," Viktor spits. Jayce sits by him. He'll enjoy this victory while he can.

"Not piercings or tats or that shit, I mean prosthetics. Legs, arms. That kind of stuff," Viktor closes his book and taps his finger on the cover as Jayce speaks. "We are over this debate when they are needed. In my opinion, at least. But how do we judge it when someone who doesn't need them decides to like...better themself or something and gets them done?"

He's been more eloquent other times, he'll admit that, but Viktor's eyes are intense on his and he's been paying attention. Jayce doesn't know why he wants that as much as he does. Maybe it's a matter of pride. Nobody is allowed to ignore him.

Maybe it's a matter of having someone, anyone, to talk to about these things.

"Aesthetically speaking, it'd be an statement. They do it because they can do it, and their reasons for it are inane. If we are to discuss the aesthetics, that's as far as we can go. Ethically, I don't think we are the right people to discuss these matters."

Jayce hums. "I guess you are right."

"I do think that media questioning whether or not cyborgs or, say, augmented human beings are still human is boring. The prosthetic I built is proof that those so called cyborgs are possible in the world we live in. We either go full posthumanist, which makes the question meaningless, or stop being fucking assholes. Then again, this is not my topic to discuss."

Viktor's voice, which has raised through his speech, dims and dies by the end of it and he avoids Jayce's eyes as if he's done something wrong. Jayce finds himself dumbstruck, unable to come up with an answer.

He's going to drop on his knees and cry at Viktor's feet because this is the kind of conversation he's been longing to have for years but nobody thinks a jock has substance. No matter how many Science Fair prizes he might have won. His dad could've been making those, for all anyone knows.

"I've been thinking about that, too. Not that exactly. But progress, you know? How we...advance. And go on. And there's no way to stop that, but sometimes it's dizzying. I love it, we are just gonna need help catching up with ourselves with how fast we are going."

Viktor snorts. "You mean like Moore's Law?"

"Yeah, something like that. Though that's pretty much dead with how tiny chips are now. I meant that applied to technology at large. Take the super-capacitator I built, for instance. With how phones are produced nowadays, wouldn't a device meant to make them charge faster be useful?"

"It would. Though I do find that to be a little too distanced from humanity, and paradoxically too emotional at the same time," Viktor answers, and Jayce is...Jayce is dying. Maybe even literally.

"It's emotional because I care. I'm involved in it and I sound like I am. Of course it's emotional. How couldn't it be?"

Viktor shrugs. Jayce is having a very hard time deciphering his expression. He looks tired.

"Emotions are messy. Why are you so set on talking to me, anyway? Useless to ask now that you have gotten what you wanted but might as well," Jayce recognizes a change of topic when he sees one, but he doesn't comment. He chooses to be honest instead, because what could go wrong.

"You seemed to be the only person at school who didn't like me."

By the way Viktor snorts, dry and humorless, and looks at him with what feels a lot like actual pity in his eyes, everything could go wrong.

"Are you telling me that you're so self absorbed that you haven't noticed? Me ignoring you is pretty mild compared to what others are doing, Jayce."

He's panicking, but Viktor doesn't need to know. The way Jayce's world is falling around him because of his words is none of his business. At all. So he tries, hard as he might, to hold on and smile, fake as it may be. He's handsome, athletic, smart. It's only natural that he's popular. He's avoided pulling awful stunts. People...can't hate him.

It doesn't make sense.

"Can't help it if they're jealous of my natural charm," if Viktor has noticed the tremor in his voice, he doesn't comment. He hums, and hits his arm lightly with the book, but doesn't say anything else, and leaves Jayce sitting on the steps feeling like the ground is shaking beneath his feet.

-x-

"I just can't stand him."

"God, he's so...overbearing."

"His ego is the size of the building."

"I've heard he got Brian expelled because he didn't let him copy his homework."

"His dad's loaded and that's about everything worthy about him."

"I hate him."

I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.

Turns out every piece of media Jayce has ever watched about teen life is right and being popular is a double edged sword, and he wasn't just an exception to the rule.

He didn't get lucky because he's got the looks and the charm. He's just been so busy with being enamored with himself and the idea of being a teen idol since freshman year that he hasn't noticed that half the student body fucking hates him, and that most don't even do it for legit reasons.

Even though some of them do.

They are done with his face being everywhere, or his attitude, or his brashness. That, Jayce can understand. With that, he can live.

Others hate him because of rumors, or because he's somehow managed to interfere in their lives without wanting to.

Jimmy Burton's girlfriend left him when they were in junior year because she had a crush on Jayce, then refused to get back with him when Jayce turned her down and blamed Jimmy for it and somehow it's Jayce's fault. Arabella Williams waved at him once when they were in the hall during sophomore year and Jayce didn't wave back, mostly because he doesn't have eyes in his ass, and it's been eating at her since then.

And so on and so forth.

All in all, he was happier when he was a self absorbed prick who didn't pay attention to his whereabouts and didn't know that people hated him. His life was better that way.

He tells Vi at lunch and she laughs in his face.

"I thought that you were being mature about it, but you didn't even know."

Jayce looks around but no one seems to be paying attention to them. For now. "Yeah. Keep your voice down, alright? I just. I don't know, Vi. I've been busy?"

"Having your head inside your ass, yeah," she's crude as fuck, but it's okay. It's fine. It's not as if everything he's thought to be true for the last four years has been a lie. At all. It's totally chill.

He doesn't want to keep talking about this, all of a sudden.

"What did that girl want, yesterday?"

Vi quirks an eyebrow at him and Jayce prays for her to let him off the hook, just once. It won't hurt her and it'll make him have at least five minutes more to digest this situation he's in. Win/win, really.

"I'm gonna let you get away with it today, but don't count on it again," she says, flicking his forehead, and Jayce smiles. "Her name's Caitlyn and f y i, she thinks I'm hot. Wants to take me to prom."

"You are kidding. There's still like a month till prom. I should know, I'm in charge of it."

"Yeah, well. She's in a hurry. Didn't want you to snatch me up with your debonair claws or some shit," Vi sneers. "It's nice, you know? For someone to believe me when I say I'm gay. For a change. You fuck my reputation up real bad, Jaycerino."

He leans over the table, as close to her as he can get, and Vi pushes him back hard enough for him to fall back on his chair. But it's good. It's great. She's laughing, Jayce is laughing, life seems nicer when Vi is happy and glowing as she is now. No matter what people, apparently, think about him; he does care about his friends a lot. Even if he only has one, and that one spends twenty hours a day out of twenty four laughing at him.

"Hey, I did scram when she marched your way, didn't I?" she scoffs, which is never a good sign.

"Sure. Only 'cause you thought that she was out for blood and you wanted to chase that new kid around. Viktor, wasn't it? Still sore about his win?"

"Oh no, I have bigger things to be sore about right now, like the fact that half the student body hates me apparently."

Jayce knows that there's someone behind him halfway through that sentence but it's too late to stop and he doesn't want to anyway. No regrets when he's telling the truth.

"Are you always so over dramatic?" Viktor asks, and yes some regrets maybe.

"Viktor, my boy! He can be way more dramatic, this is nothing by his standards," Vi is the worst kind of traitor to ever exist, but Jayce will go easy on her. She's trying to do him a solid, he knows. She thinks that he wants to befriend Viktor, when it's kind of more complicated than that. He...wants to...talk to him about slightly philosophical robotics related stuff?

Or something like that.

"I see," Jayce can't see Viktor's face, but he can feel the smirk deep within his soul. "It's not that bad. Some of them do want to be your friends."

Pity, that's just what he needs. He reaches back, doing his very best to pretend that his ego isn't shattered, and grabs Viktor's hand when he finds it.

"Do you want to be my friend?" Jayce says, having the feeling that he's only half joking and not caring for a change, and looks back at Viktor's face upside down. He seems to be scowling, but it's hard to know from down there.

"Do you?" Viktor tearing his hand away as if burned doesn't hurt, not exactly, but it does sting. In this moment of odd weakness and vulnerability of his, Jayce finds himself...lacking. Many things. And Vi is great, but he can't only rely on her. It's been four years of them against all odds but what about college?

And he's been silent for way too long.

"Could do with a little bit of black in my life to counter all the pink, I guess," Vi snorts, and Jayce sticks his tongue out at her just to be a brat.

"He's like a bucket full of black," she says, nose scrunched, then looks apologetically at Viktor with a shrugs. "No offense."

Viktor laughs, dry and airy. "Non taken. As long as you take the hair gel away from this one."

Jayce stays silent as Vi and Viktor laugh at him and feels like he might just have made the biggest mistake of his life.

-x-

Prom is looming over the horizon, his acceptance later came in March but no scholarships have been offered so far, and he has the sickening feeling that during last week he is being Jayce and Vi's charity project for their last year of high school.

It's...a cliché, really. Take the new, socially isolated, student and make them popular. He can list more than ten movies with that as a major plot point. It's either that or the new kid ends up with their hands covered in blood. Or both. Which he does not want, thank you.

Some things are missing, sure. They haven't taken him shopping, and they haven't tried to change his ways. Yet. They have invited him to a party, though. That very same night, two hours from Viktor having the impulse to bail. Just...call it quits. They wouldn't mind, would they? It's not as if Viktor is their best friend or anything. He's just this odd kid who can talk science to Jayce and laugh at him with Vi. That's it, nothing else. They'll have fun without him.

His phone rings and he almost throws it against the wall when he sees Jayce's name displayed on the screen.

"Yo Viktor," calling is so outdated it almost fits Jayce, who has to stand out in everything he does, to do that instead of texting. "Long story short, Vi dumped me 'cause she's got a hot date or something. You still up for tonight?"

Well that's not cool. If he bails on Jayce now he's going to feel guilty and bad and that sucks.

Shit.

"I..." he hesitates. Is he, really, up for tonight? Viktor's not sure. It's either risking it or having to face feeling like shit for leaving Jayce alone. Absurd as that thought is, being that he's going to a party. Was his life this complicated before he got tangled in this mess of a friendship? "Yeah. Yes. I'm still in."

"Alright. Not liking that pause, but okay. You chill?"

No, never.

"Yes. I'm chill. Don't sweat it."

He hangs up before Jayce can keep on asking, and ends up being late to the party only because he spends too much in front of the mirror caring about things that never mattered before. Is his hair okay? Is wearing too much black possible? Does he look as unapproachable as he feels? Should he tone down the leave me alone vibes he tries to project?

It's an exercise in frustration and futility that makes him feel stupid and irritated, and by the time he gets to Elijah Brooks' house he's tired and not exactly ready to interact with people. Looking around and only seeing people he vaguely recalls from some classes or the halls, or people who have laughed at him, doesn't help.

Where the fuck is Jayce fucking Sawyer.

Viktor shuffles around the house, bumping into people as he goes, looking around. They wave at him. Some say hello. He doesn't think anybody there knows his name. He turns around a corner, looking over his shoulder, and bumps into a guy he has seen around the halls but's never met. He steadies him, a hand on his shoulder and the other around a plastic cup.

"Hey, you okay?" Viktor nods, and shrugs his shoulder. The guy drops his hand and frowns. "Viktor, right? You looking for someone?"

He has to shout over the music, and it isn't helping with the knot twisting in his stomach. Viktor is surprised, though, to see that he does know how he's called.

"Yes. Have you seen Jayce?"

"Jayce Sawyer? Yeah. Go back to the front door, he's in the backyard."

"Thanks."

The guy finger guns and dances away. Viktor looks down at himself and, sure enough, he hasn't melted. He's right there, in one piece, alive. After a very awkward but successful interaction with an stranger. Maybe he will survive the party, after all.

He makes his way to the backyard, and Jayce's voice booms from the deck chair he's laying on by the pool.

"Viktor! You finally made it," Viktor flinches, but hey. If Jayce gets annoying he can try to throw him in the pool. Not many people around, could get away with it with little to no witnesses. "Where were you?"

He walks Jayce's way, and sits on the edge of the deck chair. He can definitely try to throw him in the pool. If he uses the chair he could even succeed. "Inside. Why the hell are you out here?"

"Too many people inside. It's nicer out."

"Don't you like being with people? Why come to a party if you don't?"

Jayce shrugs and avoids his eyes, which is very odd and makes Viktor lean closer to see him better in the dark and try and make sense of his expression.

"Vi's the party animal, I'm a tag along," try as he might he can't see him, and his voice isn't giving him any clues as to what he's thinking. "She threatened me with murder if I, quote unquote, denied you the once-in-a-lifetime experience of a high school party."

The more he knows Jayce, the more his mental image of him changes. It isn't completely destroyed, because he was right about some things. But he is not...what he expected him to be. He's like a subversion of a trope, an intellectual jock with feelings who languishes by the pool during parties all by himself. It's confusing, but it'd be one hell of a movie protag.

Viktor can't help it, he laughs. It's too much for even him to keep on trying to look broody.

"Do you hear yourself when you speak?"

"Hey, I'm wounded. Here I am, being sincere and open with you, and you laugh at me."

He looks down at Jayce, at what he can make out in the dark, and what he sees -the person he knows, someone who can talk about the complexities of circuitry for hours- is so far removed from the guy who strut into a classroom and winked at the teacher that he's having trouble piecing the whole picture together.

"I don't even know how you ended up being so popular with how weird you are."

"Natural charm. I'm handsome, I'm smart, I have great hair. Not my fault, I didn't even try," Jayce flashes a smile up at him and Viktor puts his hand on his face.

"Don't ruin it, please," he deadpans, and makes a face when Jayce licks his hand because he's a gross asshole. "Too much to ask from you, I guess."

Viktor cleans his hand on Jayce shirt as Jayce cackles away, and is only a tiny bit angry at himself for smiling.

-x-

"How was your date?"

"Very nice. We had milkshake and played baseball, she smooched me under the moon. I texted her like ten sparkly heart emojis and she texted a winking emoji back. So far, so good. Why are you still using your phone to call instead of texting, like people younger than thirty do?"

"Because you hate it," Vi hangs up on him. Jayce deserved that. He calls again and she keeps him waiting but picks up eventually. "Anyway. Emergency."

She whistles, the noise piercing Jayce's ear, and he deserved that too. "Code?"

"Code deep dark fucking red. Get your ass to my house asap or face mopey Jayce for years."

She hangs up again, and Jayce stares at his room's door from the bed.

Saturday, the morning after the party. It went great and Jayce is a mess.

More of a mess than usual, lately, with all his life shifting and turning and making him think about himself.

Vi stumbles through the door, looking frantic, and Jayce waves weakly from the bed.

"What happened?"

Better get this off his chest as soon as he can.

"I like him."

"Who?"

"Viktor."

"What? Since when? How did this happen?" she sits by his side on the bed, boots on the comforter and all.

"Since last night, is my best guess. He just. I was down, you know? How I get sometimes at parties and stuff. And he was there and we talked, and he was teasing me and he smiled and he was framed by the stars and the fucking moon and shit and I just. I don't know. I looked at him and he was...right there."

"You sure this isn't you being lonely and him being the only dude who talks to you?"

Jayce scowls. "Fucking rude. I'm in the football team and in the student council, a lot of dudes talk to me. I'm crushing hard on him because he knows how to play that stupid Star Trek 3D chess and his smile made me want to cry."

"Oh boy, you've got it bad."

"Yeah, that's my point," she drops her head on her shoulder and pats his leg. It's comforting, if only a little. He'll take it. "This sucks. I gotta start working on prom night, and college is coming, and you're going so far away, and a crush is the last thing I need right now."

"Shut your trap. No matter how far I go, you'll always call me like a fucking grandpa."

Jayce doesn't remember having fallen asleep when he wakes up but Vi's still there, popping a gum bubble and looking down at her phone with a smile.

"Caitlyn?"

"Yeah," her fingers fly over the screen for a second, and then she locks the phone and turns to him. "You feeling better?"

"Kind of? A lot of stuff piled up," he stretches and Vi rolls over and jumps out of the bed. "Thanks for coming. Needed to talk."

"Whenever, dude. Just don't let it get bad, okay? You suck at emotions," she punches his arm, softly, and runs to the door. Jayce flops on the bed with his arms open staring at the ceiling, listening as Vi yells TALK TO HIM from the stairs.

-x-

Jayce is acting weird and Viktor will blame it on the Monday blues and stop thinking about it. He's going to ignore that Jayce isn't by his locker when Physics C is over. He's going to pretend that he isn't noticing the way Jayce is being much less tactile today. He will absolutely not comment on the bags under Jayce's eyes. Everything is normal. Going as expected. Perfectly fine.

He cracks at six in the evening, when he gets news of yet another scholarship denied and he can't deal with the mess any longer.

"Viktor? You never call. Is everything alright?"

No. Nothing is alright. His parents expect too much even if they won't stop fucking moving, he expects too much no matter how hard he knows he tries, Jayce is being distant, and he's starting to care about being alone. Everything is wrong. Everything fucking sucks.

"I don't know if I can pay for college, I don't know if I'm smart enough for college, you weren't like you at all today and I don't know if anything is alright, no idea at all," there's silence on the other end of the line, and Viktor takes a deep breath and sits on his desk. He shouldn't just...dump all his problems on Jayce. He wasn't okay today. It isn't right. "Sorry. Forget it. I'll just try to stop thinking about all of this and I'll see you around, I suppose, talk to you tom..."

"Viktor," Jayce cuts him off, and Viktor runs a hand through his hair and waits. "It's fine. I'm going through some stuff too and I let it get at me today. We are okay, don't worry about that. You can talk to me about things unrelated to technology or philosophy or nerd shit."

Viktor laughs despite himself. "We couldn't end the year without some teenage drama."

"This hardly counts as drama. Finding out that your popular boy status implies hatred, that is drama. A meltdown over the phone is regular friend stuff. Ask Vi, I think she prints my crytypes."

"They idolize you too, stop ignoring that. Is it really bothering you that much?"

"Yes and no. I also have to deal with prom, which sucks 'cause I don't even want to go. Vi has a date already, nobody asked me out, every teen movie warned me about it. I don't know, it's a silly thing to worry about but it's...being on my mind a lot."

"You are the student council president, it's one of the things you have to do. Vi isn't helping?"

Jayce sighs, and Viktor feels the very strange impulse of patting his back. "She can't. Yearbook committee, her hands are full already. I also have this game next week. Last of the season, and the year, and my high school career actually."

"Sounds big."

"You know what? I...should care more about it than I do. I like football, but I don't like it as much as the rest of the team. I feel guilty about that, even if I do give it my all when I play. I don't know, it's a mess. You'll come, though, right?"

Viktor wasn't planning to. He knew about the match, knew that Jayce was going to play and that Vi was going to cheer, but thought that it was okay for him to stay home and do his own thing or go out alone or whatever. Those things he used to do before he had friends. But if Jayce wants him to go, he'll do it.

The idea of a crowded bleacher makes him cringe, but he will go.

"Yes, sure. I'll be there."

"Cool. Cool. That's...that's great. I'll see you there, then. And tomorrow. Talk to you then, okay?"

"Okay," Jayce hangs up and Viktor lets his hand drop and looks down at his phone, unsure of what to do next.

Having to move so much during his childhood, it's always been easier to merge into the background and get ignored than making friends. He suffered less forgetting and getting forgotten as if he had never been there in the first place. But now, with Vi and Jayce, things feel different and they are scary. Viktor is starting to care about them, and his parents won't up and leave when the school year is so close to ending but fear is hard to control.

There's a certain level of safety in being alone that he misses and dreads at the same time now that he doesn't feel as lonely anymore. There's also the ever present anxiety that comes with the possibility of them realizing that he wasn't that great to begin with and leaving him. It's easy enough to manage on a good day, but bad days are hard to deal with. Friendship had grown alien to him as the years passed. He has to get used to it again.

He can do that.

Right?

-x-

Jayce looks ridiculous in football gear, but Viktor thinks that everyone looks ridiculous in football gear. He tells Jayce, right before he has to march to the locker room for the pre-game pep talk, and Jayce flips him the bird as he walks backwards and almost trips climbing down the bleachers.

"You could ask him out," Viktor jumps out of his skin and Vi sits by his side with a smirk. "If that's what you want."

He glares at her, but it only makes the smirk grow. "What makes you think that I want to do that? And shouldn't you be down there with the rest of the cheerleaders?"

"Chill, it's okay. Still got ten minutes till I gotta get down there," she hooks an arm over his shoulders, and Viktor wants to leave but this is the friend he's managed to make and this is one of the horrors that come with her. "I don't know. You were making goo goo eyes at him, figured you might have a teeny tiny crush on our good old friend the Jaycer."

Viktor hopes he doesn't look as mortified as he feels. "I'm...I don't. Football gear is ridiculous, that's all. He is the most popular guy in school, and not interested."

Vi quirks an eyebrow. Viktor fears for his life. "Sound like excuses to me. But sure, you do you. If you say that you don't have a crush on him, I have to believe that. If you want my help with him, though, am glad to lend you a hand. Gotta skedaddle, see you in a bit."

After that, Viktor tries to pay attention to the match. He really does. But not knowing the first thing about football isn't helping with the fact that he can't stop thinking about what Vi said. He can't have a crush on Jayce, and he can't have one without noticing. Right? It's just. Not possible.

The guy on his left bumps him with his shoulder and Viktor doesn't even notice.

Jayce is everything he says he is, but in ways that Viktor didn't expect. He's charming, sometimes even when he's being and arrogant brat. He's handsome, something that Viktor admitted to himself since day one, but there's something about him when nobody's looking that Viktor's seen once in a while and that he can't really put down into words. He's smart, unexpectedly so. He's also irritating, obtuse, bad at feelings and self-absorbed.

Someone drops popcorn on him and Viktor doesn't care.

There's so much to unpack about the matter of whether or not he has a crush on Jayce that he doesn't even know where to begin. They've only been friends for a few weeks, and Viktor is. Lost. Did Vi's words start this? Is he questioning his own feelings because Jayce is the only guy who's on good terms with him?

Their team scores. Viktor looks for Jayce on the field and Jayce waves at him and Vi.

It's impossible anyway. Vi might be dating Caitlyn, but Jayce is supposed to go to college and marry a beautiful girl and have 2.5 children, a golden retriever and a house with a pool.

He remembers how Jayce sounded laughing on the deck chair by the pool, so carefree and happy, and his stomach drops.

Viktor spends the rest of the game trying to focus but failing, having to deal with a journey of self discovery ended in tragedy and the prospect of a very smug Vi in his future. By the time it's over, he only knows that they've won and that he's fucked.

Vi's the first to run up to where he's sitting, fresh out of the shower and beaming. "Viktorino! We won!"

"I know."

"You don't look like it."

"You were right."

"I usually am, but what are we talking about?"

She lays on the bench with her head on his lap and Viktor stares off into the distance, dodging her eyes.

"Jayce."

"Oh."

"Yes."

"Just ask him out."

"I can't."

"I'll help you, it's easy. You walk to him, you ask him to go catch a movie with you, and then you pick him up, and then you watch a movie, and then you smooch him."

He smacks her forehead and she swats at his hand. "It's not that easy, I'm not exactly a dreamboat and he's coming this way act casual."

"Good game, Jayceton," Jayce beams, and it's awful. Viktor wants to slap him and then himself.

"Our last hurrah," he sits by Viktor's side, much too close for comfort right then when Viktor is having the worst kind of revelation. "You were great out there too, Vi."

"When am I not," she stretches and straightens, sitting by Viktor's other side. "Gotta ditch you, though. You are my favorite boys, but Caitlyn's waiting."

Viktor watches her go and hates her a little for trying to help him. He doesn't doubt that she does have a date, late as it might be by his standards, but leaving him alone now with Jayce is not cool.

At all.

Jayce sighs, and Viktor turns to observe his profile under the harsh lights of the field. He's smiling, easy and relaxed.

"I can't believe that this is going to be over in like...two months?" Jayce says, something sad in his voice tugging at Viktor's heartstrings, and turns to look at Viktor himself. "Wish we had met sooner, too. With college and all...I know we'll keep in touch, but it won't be the same and it feels like we didn't have enough time."

Viktor can feel Jayce's breath on his face.

"I have a feeling we would have hated each other for four years," he says, dry, and Jayce laughs. "It feels easier this way. We didn't know enough about each other to...not become friends?"

Jayce leans on him and he's solid and warm.

"Yeah. Still funny to picture you as a freshman, though. Full on broody mysterious look back then too?"

"No. I did wear whatever my mom got for me back then. Things changed after we started moving. Where you always like this?"

Jayce snorts and pinches his arm. "Like what? Glorious?"

"An insufferable jock," Viktor retorts, nudging Jayce's side with his shoulder, and Jayce lets more of his weight fall on him. "You can try to suffocate me but it will still be true."

"Shut up. And yes, I think I was always...like this. I'm good at looking like I'm good at people, actually very bad at people and at myself, and pretty amazing at pretending that I know what I'm doing. Didn't plan on becoming a jock, though, that kind of just happened."

Viktor takes a deep breath, leaning his own weight against Jayce. People are leaving the field, climbing down the bleachers, chattering away and ignoring them. Jayce feels real and close, and Viktor is drowning in it.

"I hate how much I'm going to miss your pompous ass."

Jayce's laugh rumbles through Viktor's chest.

"God. Yes. Same."

-x-

"And you didn't fucking kiss him?" Vi throws a pillow at him and Jayce doesn't even try to dodge. He deserves it, he's an idiot. "He tells you that he's going to miss you looking into the horizon and you stay there and do nothing."

"No, of course I didn't. He was having an open and vulnerable moment with me, that would have been nasty."

Vi grabs another pillow and screams into it.

"I cannot believe this sense of honor you've grown in like a week."

Jayce starts pacing around his room for lack of a better thing to do, and dodges the other Pillow that Vi throws his way.

"Vi, please. It's hard enough as it is, it was not right," she heaves a sigh and jumps off the bed, hopefully leaving the pillows alone.

"Okay. Alright. Fine. Do it your way, Jayce, but it's going to take forever and a bit. Why don't you talk to him?"

"He is very hard to read," Vi quirks an eyebrow. "Okay, fine. He isn't, but he is hard to follow when emotions are in the mix and I don't know if he's straight and he complains a lot about me being overbearing and I'm pretty sure that he has his eyes on that girl from Chem?"

"Oh my God," she kicks his shin, not hard enough to hurt but he gets the message. "Who are you and what have you done with Jayce?"

"I don't know. I'm insecure on the inside, whatever."

"Don't you lie to me, that's a lie. You know that you are pretty, it's your mouth that's the problem," Jayce pouts, but she hushes him. "You care, I get that. You don't wanna fuck up, but is it really worth the misery?"

No idea.

He only has a couple of months left with them. It's either talking to Viktor and risking those months being awkward or Viktorless, or doing nothing and letting his crush die. There's no good option. Viktor being into him is almost impossible as far as he knows, no matter how pretty he is.

It's a mess.

He hates it.

His phone buzzes and of course it's Christine asking if he's gonna get to the student council meeting or not.

"Vi, listen. I've got a meeting about fucking prom now. We'll...talk about this. Later. I'll do something. I don't know what yet, but I will."

She glares at him, arms crossed. "I sure hope you do."

He does, too.

-x-

Viktor leaves his pen on his desk and looks down at his notebook with satisfaction. It's full of complex diagrams that Jayce gets but that he's amazed that Vitkor knows at all, and when Jayce glances at him he finds his eyes already on him.

"What do you think about that?" he asks, a smile softening his sharp features. "This scholarship is easy come easy go, looks high level enough for you?"

Jayce grabs the notebook and scans the diagrams. He can recognize the skeleton for a full on robotic construction, and notes about the possible development of an AI. Impressive.

"It is. And if it's high level enough for me, it should be for anyone."

"So humble," says Viktor, with a smirk, and Jayce leaves the notebook where it was and flips him the bird. "How's prom going?"

Jayce grimaces. "Almost done, thankfully. Only last minute things left."

"It'll be over by Sunday. You going?"

"Don't think so, didn't get asked to," he laughs, and Viktor makes a face but doesn't further comment. "It's fine. I don't really want to go. Nothing good can come out of prom."

Viktor's hair is a mess and Jayce wants to run his fingers through it.

Focus.

"You have very strong opinions against prom for a prom king," Viktor turns on his chair and smiles, and Jayce snorts.

"We've been warned against it, I'm just being cautious," he reasons, and Viktor's awful dry laugh makes him feel like screaming. "Are you going?"

Viktor shrugs. "I don't think so. Nobody asked me to go with them, and it will be too crowded."

"Do you want to go with me?" Jayce says, and immediately wants to kick himself in the teeth for lacking impulse control and self-preservation.

Viktor blinks at him, stunned. "You want to go with me."

"Yes," he answers, before he chickens out, and Viktor frowns.

"Why?"

Really? Is that honestly going to be his reaction to Jayce being a dumbass and asking him to prom? Jayce laughs, surprised, caught out of his element. He's not good at this. He sucks. Why did he do this.

"Why not," it's a good an answer as any. But it is...lacking. "We could have fun."

"Okay. Fine. Pick you up at seven?" Viktor says, voice steady and fierce eyes set on Jayce's, and Jayce can feel his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest.

"Sure."

-x-

Viktor calls him the day before prom, panicking, and Jayce almost starts begging him not to ditch him right there on the spot before Viktor tells him that he doesn't own a single suit.

"Not one. Suit jackets, sure. Full suits? No," Viktor sighs, Jayce wills his own breathing to settle after almost going into full panic mode himself. "Are jeans fine? Why do I care so much about this?"

Jayce smiles and leaves his cup of coffee on the kitchen counter. "Relax. Jeans are fine, I'll wear jeans too. I'll wear my fucking letterman jacket if it makes you feel any better."

"It would, actually. I mean, if you don't care. You must have suits, you are the jock of the century."

"One. Wore it to my aunt's wedding," not having to wear it again is a relief. It was uncomfortable and made Jayce feel like he was playing dress up. "I'll go jock-casual, you can do formal-goth."

Viktor's amused snort makes him almost drop his phone. "Sure. It'll be interesting. See you tomorrow."

He hangs up on Jayce and he stares right there, in the kitchen, looking down at his coffee unable to wipe the grin off his face.

-x-

Formal-goth does sound like a bad joke, but he looks at himself in the mirror and has to admit that it's not half bad. Black, smart enough to pass as proper prom attire but casual enough to be comfortable. Viktor checks himself one last time, takes a deep fortifying breath, and leaves his house to pick Jayce up.

He's not sure what Jayce's deal is. If this is a pity date, he might just be sad enough to accept it. If it's a platonic deal, he'll go along with it and bury his feelings for Jayce deep down inside himself where they belong. Those are the only two options he's considered, the only ones that feel reasonable and possible.

Viktor scowls at his hands, trembling on the steering wheel, as he waits for Jayce to get in the car. It's fine. He's going to be okay. It's not as if Jayce is going to declare him prom king and drop a bucket full of pig blood of his head. No serial killers on the loose. No zombies. Vi and Jayce aren't prone to popular kids high school drama.

It will be okay.

Jayce climbs into the car and Viktor looks at him, smiling at Viktor with his letterman jacket on, and it won't be okay. Viktor can feel his eyes on him, and he shifts in his seat.

"Cool look," he says, smirking, and Viktor groans and starts driving to avoid spilling his guts in his car. "Vi doesn't know we're going. She's gonna yell at us, you've been warned."

Vi does yell at them when they get to the high school gym. She hits Jayce, too, and Viktor winces because that did sound like it hurt.

"You assholes could have at least told me that we were doing casual and I wouldn't have even tried to get my ass inside this suit," to be fair, it's very classy. Black and white, a perfect fit. "Stay here. I'll get Caitlyn."

She storms off and Jayce leans into him. Viktor shoves his hands in his pockets.

"I told you, didn't I," he can smell his expensive cologne and it's ridiculous, how emotional it makes him. "What do you think about the setup?"

Viktor looks around.

It's everything he was expecting. Loud music, dim lights, neon colors, people dancing to the beat. Smiles and drinks. A crowd that makes him feel like sinking down into the floor and never coming out again.

That aside, it's great. It's what prom is supposed to be.

"It's cool," he says, raising his voice over the music, and when he looks at Jayce he's beaming. "Good job, paved the way nicely."

Jayce laughs. Viktor can't hear it, but he can see it and it makes his stomach twist. "Shut up. I'm just happy everyone seems to be having a good time. It's not my scene, though."

Viktor looks at his profile as Jayce surveys the dance floor. He seems so focused, but so detached. This is his job, not something he's meant to enjoy.

Jayce hooks an arm over his shoulders and his thought process dies.

"Wanna go somewhere else? I know that we just got here but I can't stop thinking about what I should've done better organizing this stupid thing."

Viktor nods. "Sure. What about Vi, though?"

"She'll yell at me a bit tomorrow but she'll have fun without us. Come on."

He follows Jayce out, still with his arm around his shoulders, and wonders about the possibilities he considered. Jayce has taken him to prom. As what? He does not know. A friend? Jayce's fingers grace his nape and Viktor shivers and starts to have doubts, but hoping is a big no in his book. Hoping only brings trouble.

Viktor takes a steadying breath once they get in the car, closes his eyes, and opens them to look at Jayce as he checks his hair on the mirror.

"Where to?"

"Wherever."

Viktor snorts, dubious. "You serious?"

Jayce turns and holds his gaze as he says yes.

-x-

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Fucking stupid idiot.

Jayce had to go and make this platonic-prom-date very not platonic. He had to get close to Viktor and make him drive them somewhere. Wherever. Like in a bad cheesy movie.

He's so screwed. He bites his lip, his heart pounding against his ribcage and his feelings all over the place.

Viktor stops the car, and Jayce looks up and sees nothing but stars.

"You said wherever," Viktor says, voice low but firm. "This is the quieter place I know in town."

Out of the car, Jayce takes a deep breath. He looks at Viktor by his side, and is about to tell him everything, just be done with it, when Viktor turns and pins him in place with a glare.

"What is this all about?" he asks. "Because I can't stand tiptoeing around things like this and I'd rather be clear with you than keep on dodging the subject."

Jayce swallows.

"I..."

"I'm not done," Viktor sits on the pavement, and Jayce does the same. He isn't looking at him, but he looks furious and determined. Jayce swallows around a knot in his throat. "I have a crush on you. It's awful. I hate it. And I need to know if this is like a friendly outing to you, because we are sitting here under the fucking stars and it's-"

Jayce kisses him. It's only a peck but it seems to stun Viktor into silence and Jayce himself isn't sure about the next step to take.

He should say something.

"It's not a friendly outing," he says, bewildered, and Viktor grabs Jayce's face with his hands and frowns. "I mean, it can be if that's what you want bu-"

Viktor grabs him by the ears and tugs at him, and Jayce lets himself get dragged into a kiss. He pushes his fingers into Viktor's hair and smiles when Viktor pulls back and their lips brush together.

"Formal-goth looks good on you," Jayce whispers, and revels in the feeling of Viktor's laughter tickling his lips.

-x-

Vi yells at them for ditching her at prom, then hugs them both so hard that Viktor feels his back pop.

-x-

It's graduation day and Viktor's phone wakes him up at eight am with a text from Jayce.

Jayce: u ready for a tear fest? <3

He snorts, still half asleep, even though he isn't ready for a tear fest at all, and calls Jayce instead of texting back.

"Do you even know what time it is?"

"Time to face our bright future," Jayce says, upbeat, and Viktor groans.

"What about our shaky, tear ridden, present?"

Jayce laughs, with a warmth that makes Viktor smile despite himself.

"We'll deal with that as it comes, one step at a time."

#League of Legends #Viktor the Machine Herald #jayce #jayceviktor #fic #viktor league of legends #one million shrugging emojis

11 notes · View notes