#I definitely understand why they did the ending like that but I was disappointed cause they were just gonna part ways like that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hannahmanderr · 6 months

Text

WHOO HOO ECTO-IMPLOSION!! I was honored to get to step in to write for the incredible artwork done by @praetoring! They're such a talented artist, and their art was truly inspiring!! I'll be reblogging it myself, but definitely go check it out here and share the love with them!! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“This would be so much easier if you opened up, Daniel.”

Danny huffs and scrapes the heel of his scruffy shoe on the thin carpet. “It’s Danny. And I told you before. There’s nothing to open up about.”

Dr. Bell leans forward and laces his fingers underneath his chin. Danny’s seen the critical glint in his eye before, in the other psychiatrists who have come before him. He wonders if it’s something they teach in medical school. Maybe they make it a graduation requirement.

“I’m here to help you. We all are,” Dr. Bell says, his honey brown eyes trained on Danny. “You’re here because you have people who care about you. They want to see you get better.”

“Well, I hate to disappoint, but there’s nothing to get better from.”

Dr. Bell’s eyes crease into a sad sort of smile. “There’s a term for that, you know. When a patient believes their problems aren’t a problem. ‘Ego-syntonic’ is what we call it.”

“Why would I care what it’s called?”

“Thought you might like to know.” The doctor shrugs. “You seem like the inquisitive type.”

A silence befalls the two, broken only by the gentle ticking of the antique cuckoo clock on the wall. Danny scrapes his heel on the ground again.

He doesn’t like the quiet. It leaves room for too much to sneak through. Too many chances for something to slip through the cracks.

But he doesn’t speak.

It’s a lose-lose situation, really. He can stay quiet and run that risk, or he can talk and have to deal with all this. Again.

He shuffles and crosses his arms.

Dr. Bell sighs. “You do know why you’re here right now, yes?”

Danny doesn’t answer at first. His gaze is focused out the window now, at a point on the horizon. The sun is glaring down, melting the slushy snow and causing the air to shimmer. It’s a mesmerizing sight, he decides.

“Daniel. Danny. Look at me.”

Danny grits his teeth, but obeys. Still, his eyes continue to drift back outside.

There’s another look in Dr. Bell’s eyes. One that Danny also knows well. The same reproachful, pitying look given to him by the students in the halls at school, the cashiers at the grocery store, the dozens of professionals he’s been forced to talk to. The same look accompanied by low whispers and unrelenting rumors.

Danny knows he should be used to them by now, but he still can’t help but lash out at them. Every time. Even if it’s in his own head.

Dr. Bell tilts his head thoughtfully. “Why did you throw those meds away, Danny?”

Danny bristles. He can still hear the flushing toilet and his sister’s shouts of disbelief. The angry lecture from his parents. It’s not pretty.

Somehow, he’d never thought about the consequences of getting caught.

“Maybe if you listened to me,” he snaps, “you’d understand that they’re useless.”

“If we need to adjust the dosage, or if we need to try anoth-”

“No, just - I don’t need them!” His heart is beginning to race. He’s getting himself worked up again, and he knows it can only lead to disaster, but he can’t really help it. “I don’t need them, because nothing’s wrong!”

Dr. Bell’s brow furrows. “How long have you been tossing them?”

“Does it matter? I don’t need them, end of story.”

“Danny.” His name is spoken with a sort of sternness really only matched by his English teacher. It’s enough to make him shut his mouth and slowly sit back in his seat. Had he even realized he’d started to lean forward?

His heart doesn’t quiet, though. It pounds away in his chest, faster and faster. Something tingles in the back of his head.

He scrapes his heel again.

The doctor finally looks away and pinches the bridge of his nose. It pushes his glasses askew. “This is serious. You can’t simply decide to stop taking these meds because you think you don’t need them. That’s dangerous… to you.”

Danny doesn’t need to be a genius to hear the unspoken message in Dr. Bell’s words. Dangerous to you and the people around you.

Jazz would scold him for jumping to that conclusion. He can imagine just what she’d say. People with psychotic disorders are more likely to be the victims of violence than the perpetrators of it, she’d say in that presumptuous, know-it-all voice she dons any time she gets to talking about psychology.

Danny knows better though. Statistics might say one thing. They don’t change what people think, though.

Another shimmer outside the window catches his eye. He hones in on it immediately.

This one is different. He knows it. He can feel it.

Shit.

Dr. Bell is still speaking. “Please, Danny. You don’t want to end up back in the hospital again. You’ve been managing your symptoms for a while now. You don’t want to throw that all away.”

But Danny isn’t hearing him. Not even the thinly veiled threat of the hospital breaks his concentration.

(Somewhere in the back of his mind, though, he wonders if psychiatrists are supposed to be this blunt. All of the others before this one always danced around the issue so delicately.)

(He sort of appreciates the bluntness, for once. It’s a refreshing change.)

No, his focus is devoted to that point on the horizon, where the shimmer is waving precariously in the air, taking on a new shape and growing stronger.

Really, he wishes it had waited until this appointment was over.

Then again, he’s really the one to blame for it, isn’t he?

“We can only do so much. Myself, your parents, your teachers… I know it’s difficult, and I know you’ve been through a lot, but we can’t do all the work for you. You have to be willing to step up and take care of yourself.”

Danny’s heart is throbbing painfully now. He can feel the potent hum of something buzzing just under his skin, making his leg bounce and his fingers dig into his torn jeans. His eyes remain stubbornly trained out the window.

But this time he’s heard Dr. Bell’s words. Specifically that last bit. And he has some words of his own.

It’s perfect timing, thankfully.

He stands up abruptly, so forcefully it knocks over his chair. “Thanks, but no thanks, doc. You may think I’m just throwing away my life or whatever, but I know myself better than you do. And for the record, I am taking care of myself. I’m taking care of more than myself, actually. So - and I’ll only say this once - kindly go to hell.”

Before Dr. Bell has the chance to respond, Danny sweeps out of the office.

No one sees him exit the building.

____________________________________________________________

One year, seven months, twenty-one days, and forty-six minutes.

That’s how long it’s been since the first crack.

It shouldn’t have been possible. His parents said so themselves. With the portal destroyed, the veil between worlds was never torn. Reality remained intact, thus preventing any leakage.

That’s what they thought anyway.

But Danny knows the truth. He’s the only one that does.

He was there when it happened, after all.

____________________________________________________________

The next morning has Jazz hovering over his shoulder, watching him like a hawk.

“Go on,” she says, nodding to the pills in his open hand. “Take them.”

Danny doesn’t answer. Instead, he stares at the pills with disdain. Mom had been sure to make certain that he’d have them for this morning. Pharmacies work much faster with an impassioned Fenton breathing down their necks.

Either that, or maybe they’ve heard the rumors about him too.

Jazz huffs and throws her hands in the air. “Honestly, Danny, I don’t understand what the big deal is. They’re not gonna kill you.”

Danny tilts his head. He could probably make a decent argument as to why yes, taking these pills could end up with him dead, but he holds his tongue.

He can feel his heart begin to pulse a little faster. His focus immediately redirects to his breathing.

Inhale Io Europa Ganymede.

Exhale Callisto Amalthea Himalia.

Inhale Elara Pasiphae Sinope.

Exhale Lysithea Carme Ananke.

Jupiter has 95 moons. Danny knows all their names by heart. It became especially easy to memorize them when he discovered they make for a wonderful mantra to time his breathing to.

And Jazz wanted to accuse him of not paying attention in therapy.

Except she’s still staring at him with murder in her eyes. “You’re not going anywhere until you take those. And no, I will not vouch for you with Lancer if you make us late.”

His eyes flick up to hers for the briefest of moments. He doesn’t maintain the eye contact - it’s too hard to look at the disappointment in her eyes - but it’s long enough for him to spot something else within them. He can’t quite believe it, though.

Is that… helplessness?

Conflicting feelings war within him. On one hand, he wants to snap at her, tell her to mind her own business and quit worrying about him. She’s been on his back for the better part of the past year and a half. How has she not learned that no amount of nagging is going to “fix” him?

But on the other hand, his heart pangs for his sister. After all, she’s been dealing with the effects of his… condition for that year and a half now, whether she’s wanted to or not. He knows his problems are not self-contained; they inevitably twist their way into the lives of everyone he comes into contact with. No one has been in closer contact with him than Jazz.

In a way, he sort of hates himself for it. Or maybe he hates the universe for putting him into this position. Either way, he hates it.

Yet he still can’t take the pills. He doesn’t know what sort of effect they’ll have on him, but he’s not eager to find out, either.

Danny sighs and his shoulders slump. “Fine,” he says, his voice clipped. “Whatever.”

He makes a show of tossing them in his mouth and taking a big gulp of water. Even after he swallows, Jazz still eyes him critically.

“Open up,” she demands, though her voice is gentler. Obediently, he opens and lifts his tongue to show her his empty mouth.

She nods curtly, but Danny can see the tension drain from her face and body. The sight is somewhat strangely satisfying. “Thank you. Now was that so bad?”

Danny shakes his head.

“That’s what I thought. Now come on, I really don’t want to be late.”

“You go ahead,” he says. “Sam and Tucker wanted to walk with me today.”

Jazz raises an eyebrow. The gears are turning in her head, Danny knows, as she tries to pick the reason apart. Looks for a flaw.

A year and a half of lying through his teeth has earned him such a lack of trust.

But he shrugs half-heartedly. He’s already taken the pills, hasn’t he?

Jazz seems to reach this conclusion. “Alright,” she says slowly. She bends down to pick up her bag, but her eyes stay glued to him. “But if you try anything funny…”

“What would I even try?”

“Just -” she cuts herself off and draws in a breath. “I’m not trying to be the bad guy, Danny. I just… I worry. You’re my little brother, you know?”

His heart pangs again. “I know.”

The hint of a smile graces the corners of her lips. She plants a kiss into his hair. There’s a weight to it though, one that holds the strain of all the heated arguments, all the angry and despaired tears, all the failed pleading and promising, everything that’s happened in the past year and a half.

Even if her melancholy hadn’t draped itself around his shoulders, he would’ve known.

Still, when she pulls away, he offers her his own small smile. She leaves the house without another word.

It’s only after he hears the door close behind her that he bolts to the bathroom.

____________________________________________________________

He had tried to explain what was happening to him, after the portal exploded on him. He tried to explain the strange feelings in his body, the impossible things he was seeing.

The doctors (and his sister) immediately wrote off his complaints as residual trauma from the accident. You’re lucky to even be alive, they would tell him. It’s expected that you’d be having problems adjusting.

(Lucky to be alive. That’s what they said. That’s what everyone said.)

(If only he believed that statement was true.)

(And not about the “lucky” part.)

His parents, of course, had been intrigued at first. Perhaps it was because of some delirious hope after the destruction of their magnum opus, but they at least listened to him. There had been some skepticism, especially as it became clearer and clearer that there was no proof to Danny’s claims, but they stayed patient.

Until Jazz found out about the questions they were asking him. She had given them a lecture of her own for “encouraging his delusions” before “accidentally” dropping it to the therapist during a family counseling session.

His parents, disappointed as they had been, agreed to back off.

Leaving him alone to fix a problem no one believed was real.

____________________________________________________________

Danny’s head feels like dead weight as he lifts it from the toilet. He flushes it before he can look down and make himself sick all over again.

God, what has he come to?

The bitter taste of the half-digested pills burns at his tongue. Still, he chooses to fall back against the wall, breathing heavily and letting his eyes flutter closed.

His heart pounds in his chest. It had started even as he had been running to the bathroom. He silently berates himself for allowing it to happen. And although part of him has already resigned himself to the inevitable consequence, part of him still desperately latches onto the list of moons he knows so well.

Leda Thebe Adrastea.

Something potent and volatile pulses in the air. He can feel it seep through his skin and into his muscles and bones. It only makes his heart race faster, especially as the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and goosebumps coat his arms.

He’s had a year and a half to get used to the sensation, but it catches him off guard every time. Like something is tearing itself apart inside him.

Or maybe like he’s being torn apart.

Metis, Themisto…

Danny curls in on himself. Pressure builds in his chest. Something he has no human words for storms inside him in a relentless whirlwind. He can feel the need for release, though whether that’s him begging for a reprieve or the force inside him demanding to be freed, he can never tell. Perhaps it’s both.

… Callirrhoe…

The sizzling snaps of something electric are audible in the air, concentrated somewhere behind the shower curtain. He holds his head in a death grip and his heart beats fast - impossibly fast.

So fast it might as well be stopped.

Something cold writhes its way into his throat, stirring his stomach into nausea all over again. He can’t swallow it down. He’s forced to open his mouth in a gasp and stare in dismay as pale, blue mist pours from his lips.

But he doesn’t have time to dwell on it. The demand from the force within has become intolerable. Like always, he’s left wondering if it’ll be too much for his tiny mortal body to handle.

Unfortunately for him, he knows he’ll be able to handle it.

With a guttural cry, the energy erupts in him.

He’s never sure what exactly happens next. He’s always been too overwhelmed by whatever it is to see or understand. All he knows is the thunderbolt of something electric, something powerful being unleashed into him. Or maybe it’s clawing its way out of him.

Memories of blinding green light and an explosion that leaves his ears ringing rip through him.

That’s probably always the worst part.

And then, right as he’s sure he’ll disintegrate into nothing more than dust, it stops. In a single deafening clap, it stops.

Slowly, Danny peels his eyes open. The death grip loosens and his legs and arms begin to unfold. The tension, however, does not leave his body. Every human instinct of his whispers at him furiously to stay alert. Be prepared. Flee from the danger.

But a different set of instincts has clamored its way forward too. Instincts that are far from human. Instincts that draw him up from the floor and towards the bathtub.

A toxic green glow pulses behind the shower curtain.

____________________________________________________________ It hadn’t taken long for the rumors to start spreading. Amity Park is, after all, a sleepy little suburb. Its residents will take their drama where they can get it.

Did you hear about the ghost hunters’ son? they’d whisper. Did you hear about the crazy Fenton kid?

Speculations ranged far and wide. Even after the portal’s explosion became common knowledge, people would throw out wild theory after wild theory.

I heard he ate a bunch of ectoplasm and it’s poisoned him.

Well, I heard the radiation from all those experiments finally got to him.

Are you kidding? Those loony Fentons obviously started experimenting on him.

Comments like that last one always stung the worst.

If he’d been a social pariah before, he was even more of one after the accident.

And it definitely didn’t help that the accident left him with a slew of… “side effects.” Ones that really got everyone talking.

____________________________________________________________

Danny nearly tears the curtain off the rod as he rips it to the side.

Sure enough, right in the middle of the bathtub, a rancid green crack shimmers in the air.

“Go away,” he growls. There’s something ethereal about his voice now, something that makes it reverberate against the walls and fill the air with static. Something fueled by the anger and frustration in his bones.

Something - or someone - is trying to press their way through the crack. Even if it hadn’t been visibly apparent, Danny can feel it in his chest. It’s causing a distinct pressure that throbs out of sync with his heart. It’s uncomfortable, to say the least.

A different kind of static drifts through the portal. That would be the response, Danny gathers. Somehow, despite the lack of any English words - or any words, period - he knows exactly what’s being said. Or a rough idea, at least.

“No,” he snaps. A crack of electricity snaps in time with his voice. “You’re not coming through. Go away.”

He wishes the intruder would just leave him alone. The sooner he’s able to calm down, the sooner the crack will fade. That’s how it works. That’s how it’s always worked.

This time, when static drifts through the portal, there are the low undertones of something that can maybe be interpreted as language. Danny listens closely.

“This is my world.” He’s attempting to make himself sound as threatening as possible, allowing the anger and the fierce instinct to possess to bubble over into his demeanor. His blood is running cold, and he knows if he were to look in the mirror right now, he’d be met with not his eyes, but an otherworldly glow that mimics the color of the crack down to a tee. “This is my haunt. You’re not welcome.”

He’s still not exactly sure what a haunt is, and he’s not sure why the thought of this being his haunt makes his stomach flutter with both anxiety and excitement, but he’s dealt with this problem long enough to know how to speak their language.

“Let me through,” a voice hisses from inside the crack, muddied by the accompanying static. “I only wish to help you.”

Danny scoffs. “Yeah, right. Like any of you have ever actually wanted to help me before.” His eyes narrow, and now he can feel a cold crackle gathering behind them. “So you’d better leave now, because you won’t like it if I have to make you.”

“And just how do you intend to ‘make’ me leave, halfling?”

There’s that word again. The one that sends a buzz straight down Danny’s spine and causes something in his chest to leap. The one they’ve all been calling him for the past year and a half.

Halfling.

What exactly that means, he still doesn’t know.

“I’ve gotten rid of plenty of you before,” he says, low and dangerous. “I can just as easily get rid of you.”

The pressure in his chest increases sharply as a shadowy figure presses right up against the crack. Foggy bits of the figure begin to slip through the crack. “Perhaps you are as powerful as they say.” The voice becomes clearer. “Perhaps your words have merit. Somehow, I doubt that.”

Danny growls again, and his hands ball into fists. He swings madly at the little tendrils of fog. They dissipate under his touch, and the intruder hisses.

“You are making a grave mistake, child. It is not wise to reject my aid.”

“Sure. I’m sure your ‘aid’ involves all sorts of terrorizing and wreaking havoc and stuff. Exactly the kind of help I need.” He grunts as the intruder attempts to shove their way through again, and it feels like someone has thrown a cinderblock into his chest. Still, he stands his ground. “This place is mine, and if you think I’m just gonna let you come in and run rampant, then you have another thing coming.”

Despite his best efforts, more and more foggy bits leak through the crack. The static in the air pulses, and he gets the vague notion that he’s being laughed at. “Such strong words from such an insolent boy. This is the great halfling child I was told so much about?”

“You know, you’re not exactly doing much to help your case.”

“Hmm. Then maybe I’ll simply make you my offer.”

“Not. Interested.” His hands are tingling. Is it from coming into contact with the intruder? Or from something else? He can’t tell. “You can take your offer and -”

“I can teach you how to seal the rifts.”

Now that makes Danny falter.

____________________________________________________________

It only took about a month for Danny to realize it was him that was responsible for the cracks.

They didn’t start out as anything big. Barely shimmers or disturbances in the air, when he’d get worked up or nervous or upset. Nothing big enough for anything to fit through, of course.

But enough to get him to notice.

In retrospect, it did make some sense. His parents’ portal had opened up on top of him. Or maybe even opened up in him. Of course, it was bound to leave some lasting metaphysical effects.

He just hadn’t expected to learn that he was the portal’s replacement.

It was sometime right then, a month or so after the accident, that Sam had campaigned and succeeded to revise the school lunch menu. The resulting argument between her and Tucker had gotten him so anxious that it resulted in his largest crack yet. One that was big enough to allow something through.

One that was big enough to allow one of the ghosts on the other side to slip through.

____________________________________________________________

The thought is tantalizing. It’s been so long, relying on his ability to rein in his anger and anxiety to force the cracks to fade. It’s a task much easier said than done.

Wouldn’t it be nice to have an easier, more reliable way of closing them? Of keeping the ghosts out of his territory? Of stopping things before they could cause too many problems?

The intruder must sense his hesitation, because they give another forceful push. Danny, wrapped up in his own thoughts, is caught off guard by the move, and he gasps in shock as he squeezes his eyes shut and reels backwards.

It’s enough of an opening for the ghost to slide the rest of the way through.

Danny can feel its presence. There’s something… musty about it. Like the way it feels when he goes into the attic and sees all of his and Jazz’s old baby stuff packed away. Or when he’s forced to use one of the particularly “well-loved” copies of textbooks at school. He’s not sure whether to be put off by it or intrigued.

But it does feel foreign. More foreign than the presence of most other ghosts he’s encountered.

He opens his eyes.

Endless red eyes bore into his.

He reels again.

“Who the hell are you?” he hisses. Static crackles under his voice again.

The figure simply floats there, mostly hidden underneath a cloak. Those awful red eyes shine like beacons from the shadows created by the hood. Oddly enough, they make it harder to see the figure’s face. If they actually have one. Danny’s seen more than one faceless ghost before.

“Believe it or not, I do truly wish to help you,” the ghost says. Its voice is smooth and masculine, and when it speaks, Danny is flooded with a wave of that same musty energy. Something about it feels old. Timeless.

It’s not reassuring in the slightest.

The words themselves are not reassuring either. Faces supplant the shadow under the hood - his parents’, Dr. Bell’s, Jazz’s. The phrase is one that Danny is intimately familiar with, and he immediately bristles.

“I don’t need your help,” he says, folding his arms across his chest. “And I still don’t believe you actually want to help.”

Danny can’t see the figure’s face, of course, but somehow, he can tell that the ghost is smiling at him. The kind of smile adults give children who don’t know any better. “And why don’t you believe that?” the ghost asks, unperturbed by his petulance.

Danny throws his arms in the air before crossing them even tighter across his chest. “Because that’s all you ghosts do! You invade my home and start trying to stir up trouble, and then I have to chase you down and shove you back through before you hurt something. Or someone.”

“Such hasty conclusions to draw.” The ghost clucks its tongue disapprovingly. “That won’t do at all.”

Danny’s blood boils cold and the glow from his eyes is bright enough to reflect on the ghost in front of him. He raises his fists. “Go. Now.”

The ghost sighs, as if it’s bored of the conversation already. A hand thrusts out from underneath the cloak, aimed toward the crack. Danny’s eyes widen as a blue glow surrounds the ghost’s hand, then the crack. The crack shudders.

And it begins to mend itself.

Something inside Danny shifts as the crack seals itself. He feels like he can breathe a little easier, like his heart isn’t being pushed against as much.

But the ghost is still there, in his bathroom. And now that the crack is gone, the full force of the ghost’s presence is surrounding Danny.

Danny sees the glint of sharp teeth as the ghost grins. “I don’t think I will go,” it says.

Danny’s not sure whether to be amazed, terrified, or infuriated. Or maybe some combination of the three. On one hand, this ghost just proved its ability to seal the cracks. Maybe even the ability to teach him how to do it himself. If Danny possesses that ability.

On the other hand, though, Danny doesn’t take too kindly to ghosts intruding in his world and asserting themselves.

He’s the boss here.

That instinct, the instinct to own and possess and keep his territory, wins out easily. It’s too overwhelming, and Danny doesn’t really have the energy to try and fight it.

Besides, he figures, if he can get himself worked up enough, he can create another crack to shove this ghost back through.

So with a roar of anger, Danny lunges at the ghosts and swings his fists with all his might.

The moment he comes into contact with the ghost, something changes.

And green fire explodes to life around his hands.

____________________________________________________________

The cracks weren’t the only side effect of the portal’s explosion.

Danny never understood what was happening to him. In all honesty, he’s still not sure if he completely understands. What he knew and what he knows, though, is that something within him began to shift.

He began to shift.

Why did the cold winter air seem to embrace him? Why did the night sky whisper to him with offers of belonging? Why did he find himself seeing new colors and new lights out of the corners of his eyes?

He tried to explain it to his friends, his family, his doctors. The former took some interest, but lost it quickly with nothing to back it up. The latter only used it as evidence for his diagnosis.

It didn’t help when things got more serious, after Sam changed the lunch menu and he’d had to beat back the ghost he’d accidentally summoned. He found himself drawn to some of the most random places in town - behind the dumpsters at the Nasty Burger, the top of Lookout Hill, the architecture section in the public library. Why those places, he didn’t know. All he knew was that the air in those places felt… different. Thinner, maybe. Like he could poke through it if he found the right place.

He learned to start staying away from those places.

It was worse when he started to be drawn to places that had a much more sinister aura. Like the time when he found himself standing on the side of the road at the site of a bad car wreck, watching as EMTs soberly placed a sheet over a broken body. Or when he ended up standing in the doorway of the hospice center in town as a family with red eyes and tears aplenty quietly shuffled their way out.

It gave even more reason for people to stay away from him. He smells like death, they’d say. He figured they were probably close enough to being right.

And that wasn’t counting the other side effects.

____________________________________________________________

Danny screams.

In an instant, he’s pushed the ghost back from him and scampered away, staring in horror at his burning hands. Many things have happened to him in the past year and a half, but his hands spontaneously catching on fire has not been one of them.

“Interesting,” he can hear the ghost saying, but he doesn’t truly register it. His focus is entirely on the green fire.

It’s only after a few seconds that he starts to wonder why it doesn’t hurt.

He’s heard stories, of course. About how with serious burns, they can destroy nerves before you can register the pain. He himself still has a few destroyed nerves from the explosion. He wonders if that’s what’s happening to him now. It would explain why he’s in such shock, unable to do anything to actually put out the fire.

And then he finally processes three very important things.

One: the fire is green. Not normal fire by any means.

Two: he can’t see any damage to his hands, even as the fire burns. And it doesn’t move any farther than his wrists.

Three: he can feel something. It’s not heat. His hands tingle, but not painfully. Rather, it feels like he’s dunked his hands into a bowl of ice water. Or like snow has wrapped around them.

His eyes snap up to the ghost. “What the hell did you do to me?” he shouts. His voice shakes with panic.

The ghost is as placid as ever. It holds a gloved hand up towards its chin. Danny hates feeling like the subject of some twisted experiment.

“That power has always been within you, young halfling,” it says. It could be Danny’s imagination, but he thinks he hears something akin to wonder in the ghost’s voice. “It would seem that my presence has simply accelerated your discovery of this power.”

Danny opens his mouth, but words escape him. His eyes drift back down to his hands, still lit up.

He shouldn’t be quite so stunned. This isn’t the first time something distinctly supernatural has happened to his body. Memories of arms and legs glitching out of sight and feet slipping through the ground swarm him in a rush.

He still doesn’t know why those things happen, or what they mean.

They scare him.

But he’ll never admit it. Not that he can. These occurrences would be written off as delusions.

The ghost leans down and approaches Danny. Although he’s already pressed flush against the wall, he tries to sink further into it. “Stay away from me!” As he shouts, the fire around his hands flares brighter.

The ghost’s eyes briefly flick to the fire before settling back on Danny. “Relax,” it says. “You are overreacting.” It tilts its head, and Danny sees the glint of teeth again. “Are all humans this… emotionally fragile?”

“I’m about to show you fragile,” Danny growls.

“Hmm. There’s that attitude again.” The ghost sighs. “In all truthfulness, though, you do need to relax. You will never gain control if you are continually losing it, child.”

“That makes zero sense. And how am I supposed to relax when you’re invading my home?”

“Because you are foolish,” the ghost says plainly. Danny wants to throw another punch, but the idea of another freaky thing happening if he touches the ghost keeps his behavior under control. “You are too focused on the external. You must focus on the internal.”

“Well, maybe I could ‘focus on the internal’ if you’d just leave me alone!”

A rush of that musty energy presses Danny into the wall. “You would be wise to listen to me, halfling. I am one of the very few beings that truly does wish to help you. Without my aid, you will leave yourself vulnerable to every single one of the threats behind the veil.” The ghost pauses. “Yourself… and your haunt.”

Danny’s anger falters.

The ghost continues. “What you have seen thus far is but a taste of the threats that wait for you. Everything you have faced up until this point will seem like child’s play compared to what you will face. Your only hope to defend yourself is to listen to me.”

Danny wants to stay angry. He wants to stay feisty and impudent. This is just another intruder after all. One of the many he’s had to beat back to wherever they came from.

But as he stares helplessly into the ghost’s gaze, he can’t help but feel as though he is being pierced down to his very soul. Embedded within those deep red eyes is the afterimage of every star that’s burned itself to death, from the beginning of time to the end. The infinite void of eternity. The promise of planets yet to be created, cosmic dust yet to settle, things that will happen long after the Earth’s Sun has gone supernova and extinguished any trace of life.

Danny cries out. His head snaps backward, breaking the connection to the ghost’s eyes. He pants for breath he didn’t know he’d been lacking.

He gets the impression that perhaps this isn’t just another intruder.

“Who… are you?” he asks again, this time with caution.

The ghost blinks once. “I can be your greatest ally, or I can be your greatest enemy. I am prepared to be both. Whichever one I am rests in your hands.” He nods down to the green flames still licking Danny’s hands.

Danny’s breath hitches. The way this ghost talks, the way it carries itself, he can tell the ghost knows far more than he does. Far more. He’s not sure if the threats of dangers yet to come are valid or not.

But while he asserts his ability to take care of anything thrown at him, he knows the fear in his gut says otherwise.

His fists clench. He grits his teeth. Tears pool in the corners of his eyes. Why do there have to be more threats? Why can’t these ghosts just leave him alone? Why him? Why did all this happen to him? Why must he face this alone?

The questions swarm him like angry hornets. They make it hard for him to think clearly.

His heart begins to race.

“N-no, please,” he gasps. “Not again.”

“You must relax,” the ghost reiterates. “Your abilities are tied to your emotions, as are the abilities of all ghosts. In this case, if you wish to calm the ability, you must first calm yourself, halfling.”

Danny’s stomach turns at the ghost’s words. There’s a hidden implication within them, one that Danny can’t quite put his finger on. He’s sure he does not like it, though.

“I can’t just… calm down,” he says. It’s the truth. Even a year and a half of intense therapy and psychiatric treatment hasn’t taught him how to simply shut off his emotions.

The ghost hums and puts a hand to its chin again. “How is it you humans deal with such strange matters?” He shakes his head before Danny can respond. “No matter. I can assist you by using my power to influence yours, but you must trust me to touch you again.”

Danny’s head whips back and forth wildly. “Because it went so well the last time I touched you?” he says. He hates the note of panic he can hear in his voice.

“That was, as you call it, a fluke. As I said, the power was always within you. My influence has simply brought forth that power early.”

“And how do you know it won’t happen again?”

Teeth flash underneath the hood of the cloak. “I have far more control over my abilities than you, boy. Rest assured I will be able to control something as simple as this.”

Danny’s heart thumps loudly. The ghost extends a hand towards him, and Danny instinctively flinches away from it. He can already feel the ghost’s presence beginning to press up against him again, and it only makes him more anxious.

But…

But.

There’s something different about it now.

Something that reminds him of his mother gently kissing his brow while putting a bandage on his scraped knee. Something that reminds him of his father’s bear hugs that wrap him up in a safe cocoon. Something that reminds him of the weighted blanket Jazz got him last year for Christmas, in an attempt to provide him with something to help with his leftover trauma from the accident.

“Stop it,” he says, but there’s no weight behind his words. “I didn’t… say you could… influence me.” Because as much as he hates to admit it, the ghost’s presence is affecting him. He can feel it in his heartbeat, in his breathing, as they both begin to slow.

He’s lucky he looks up in time to see the ghost’s eyes widen for the briefest of seconds. “You can already feel me?” it asks. Fascination dances behind its words, and Danny feels like he’s a being watched like a zoo animal again.

“Yes, now can you please… stop it?” Danny chances looking into the ghost’s eyes again. “I-I’ll calm down or whatever, just… please…”

To his surprise, the pressure against his chest lessens, and the vague notions of safety dissipate. The ghost floats backward a foot or two.

He feels like he can breathe again.

It’s strange, he thinks to himself. How he seems to calm much easier without the ghost’s… influence. Maybe it’s the feeling of regaining some control over the situation. Maybe it’s because he feels less like he has to defend his territory.

He looks up at the ghost. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

He’s surprised to realize he means it.

The flames die out.

____________________________________________________________

Once Danny figured out exactly what was happening within him to trigger the cracks, he tried desperately to keep it from happening at all costs.

Some tactics worked better than others. Timing his breath to the list of Jupiter’s moons was one. His therapist had been thrilled to hear that he’d taken her advice.

He tried journaling, at the encouragement of another of his therapists and his sister. It worked a bit at first. It gave him a place to vent about the ghosts and everything happening with them without running the risk of being scolded for “giving into his delusions.” It quickly lost whatever effectiveness it had, though.

Eventually, he simply tried to shut his emotions off. He tried to become uncaring, unmoved. Tried not to let everyone’s harsh words get to him as much.

That failed miserably.

Then again, so did every other tactic he tried.

At some point, they all failed. The cracks were inevitable.

They always would be.

____________________________________________________________

The ghost, for what it’s worth, keeps true to its promise to teach him how to close the cracks.

Ironically, though, it involves traveling through yet another crack.

It’s not Danny who opens it. The ghost waves its hand, and another hole in reality sparks to life inside his bathtub. The ghost’s crack is far neater than Danny’s - smoother, larger, not jagged like the forked branches of lightning.

Danny watches, and he can’t help but be in awe. The simplicity with which the ghost opened it blows him away.

“Can it really be that easy?” he asks. The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop himself. Immediately, he regrets it. His goal isn’t to learn how to create the things. He just needs to know how to stop them.

At the same time, the idea of being able to open the cracks without devolving into near panic, without feeling like his body is being ripped in two…

It’s enticing.

“With patience and precision, yes.” The ghost tilts its head at Danny. “Two things you severely lack, halfling.”

Anger flares in Danny. Somehow, he manages to wrangle it down to a simmer.

“Let’s go,” the ghost says. If it felt Danny’s silent outburst, it does not indicate so.

“Go where?” Danny asks. Realization hits him a moment later. “Through it?”

“Going above it or around it would hardly do us any good.”

Danny balks. “I - can’t you just show me here? Why do we have to go through?”

The ghost is silent for a long moment. It stares unblinking at Danny. “If you wish to stay here,” it says, low and dark, “the consequences of doing so will rest on your head.”

Danny doesn’t need his sister’s intelligence to understand what the ghost is getting at now.

“Alright, fine, I get it, it might get messy,” he concedes. “But… do we really have to go through it still?”

“You’re fearful.” It’s not a question.

Danny reflexively puffs his chest up. “I’m not afraid,” he fires back.

It’s a lie.

He wonders if the ghost knows it.

The ghost hums. “If it helps, this portal simply leads to another location here in your human world. You do not need to enter my world. Not yet.”

Danny’s head snaps towards the crack at hearing the last of the ghost’s words. “Not yet?”

He doesn’t like those implications.

“I grow weary of your refusal to cooperate, child,” the ghost says with a sigh. “You will enter this portal if you wish to learn how to close the cracks and defend yourself. If you do not, I can assure you of the hardships you will try and fail to face.”

“Okay! Okay. Just… stop being so… doomer. I get the idea already.”

“Then by all means…” The ghost sweeps an arm out towards the crack with a cheeky bow.

Reluctantly, Danny steps into the bathtub to stand before the crack. It’s the same vibrant green as the one earlier, as all the ones that had come before it. He can’t see what lies on the other side through the swirling green void.

Slowly, he reaches out and puts his hand through.

The sensation is… surprisingly pleasant. His hand meets empty air on the other side, but at the thin point where his forearm is split between two locations, where the crack touches his skin, he’s met with energy.

It’s pure and it’s raw. It’s electric. It’s invigorating and nothing like Danny has ever felt before. Standing here, in the glow of the crack through reality, he feels like he’s finally on solid ground. Like he’s found the thing that sings to him and his heart, rather than brutalizes it. Fear flushes from his body.

It’s all in such stark contrast to everything the cracks have brought him thus far. For a year and a half, it’s been oppressive. Looming over his head. Threatening to seize his heart and his breath.

But now?

He feels like he can do anything.

And that’s just with his arm partway through.

Without another thought, Danny leaps through the crack.

It’s every bit as exhilarating as he’d hoped.

____________________________________________________________

In the months after the explosion, Danny often found himself spiraling into existential trains of thought. One does not simply go through a near-death experience without having a bit of existentialism on the side.

His therapists took this to mean he had lost his sense of identity as part of his trauma. It’s okay to feel like you’ve lost yourself, they’d tell him. Like you don’t know who you are anymore.

They would sit him down and force him through exercise after exercise, trying to identify his sense of self, the traits he felt like he embodied, everything that made Danny, Danny.

Who am I?

It was the question the therapists challenged him to ponder, time after time. Only you can answer that question for yourself, Danny.

He wanted to scream every time he was made to fill out another chart. Or outline who he thought he was. Or draw up things to symbolize himself. The question of who he was wasn’t the cause of his existential spirals. He already knew who he was.

Mostly, anyway.

No, it was a different question that plagued him time after time. After every crack, every encounter with a ghost, every unexplainable sight or sound he came across.

What am I?

A year and a half later, he still doesn’t know.

____________________________________________________________

Danny trips over his feet as he exits the crack.

He’s still breathless from the sheer euphoria from the experience. His body shakes from the overwhelming feeling of power coursing through his veins. He wants to laugh, or maybe cry. Maybe both.

Where has this been for the past year and half? How could he have gone so long without experiencing something like this?

He turns around to face the crack. In an instant, he’s up against it once more, trying to savor any last dredges of the energy that he can.

He realizes that this is the closest he’s ever been to one of the cracks. He’s stayed away from them like a plague, only getting close enough to shove ghosts back through. Their presence has always weighed heavily on him, but now Danny wonders if that’s really the case.

No, something heavy has always accompanied the cracks. But… are the cracks themselves responsible for the pressure in his chest?

For the first time, he’s starting to think he’s had it wrong.

There’s a tingle in his chest, then a push, then pressure. This is the feeling he’s far more familiar with. Knowing what it heralds, he steps to the side. A moment later, the cloaked ghost makes its way through the crack.

“There,” it says once fully on this side of it. “Was that so bad?”

Danny opens his mouth. His instinct is to gush about it, to tell the ghost that it was the farthest thing from “bad.”

Those haunting red eyes turn on him, and the words die on Danny’s tongue.

He huffs and kicks at the ground. “It wasn’t terrible,” he mutters quietly.

They’re on a dirt road, somewhere rural. Fields dormant for the winter sprawl out on either side of the road. A lone set of electrical lines runs along the side of the road. He can’t see any buildings around.

“Wait, where are we?” he asks, trepidation in his voice. Belatedly, he wonders if blindly trusting a very powerful ghost was smart.

“Not far,” the ghost responds. It does not elaborate. Instead, it seals the crack they’ve just come through with a lazy wave of its hand.

The second time witnessing it is just as mesmerizing as the first.

“Why do we have to come all the way to the middle of nowhere to do this? Seriously, why couldn’t you just show me back home?”

The ghost hums. It stares at the horizon, unfocused. “There are things you have yet to understand, halfling. You will learn in time.”

Danny grits his teeth. “Listen, you said you wanted to help me. So quit being all creepy-cryptic and help me.”

“I do not take well to people making demands of me,” the ghost says sharply. A cold breeze rustles the dead leaves on the road and in the fields. “We will operate on my schedule. A halfling child will not dictate it to me.”

Though he doesn’t know why or how, Danny’s instincts scream at him to rise to meet the challenge. To tell the ghost that it may want to operate on its own schedule, but this is Danny’s territory. That it can’t simply wander in and out of his world as it pleases and act as though it is in charge.

It takes every ounce of self-control he can muster to tamper those instincts.

He’s none too eager for the ghost to get mad at him again.

“What do I do then?” he grumbles.

The ghost floats to Danny’s side. “To learn how to control the cracks, you must first learn to take notice of the world around you.” It sweeps its arm out. “Tell me what you see here.”

“What? I don’t… there’s nothing to notice. What does this have to do with anything?”

“If you do not notice anything by looking, then notice by seeing.”

“That literally makes zero sense!”

The ghost ignores Danny’s outburst this time. “You can already see more than other humans,” it says tiredly. As though it’s explained this to him hundreds of times already. “But you ignore it. You ignore the world around you to maintain little more than an illusion.”

Danny’s stomach does a little ballet. The ghost… isn’t wrong. The glimpses of colors he has no human words for, the way his eyes are drawn to seemingly invisible movements, the dancing lights always in the corners of his eyes, they are all things he knows he can see that others can’t.

He hates it.

“Maybe ignoring it is better,” he retorts. There’s some fire in his words, but not much.

“Better for who? For those around you? For you? The answer is neither. How can you wish to protect your haunt when you turn a blind eye to that which supposedly threatens it?”

“As long as it stays on their side of the crack, it’s fine.” Even as he speaks, Danny realizes he’s losing confidence in his words. It’s terrifying.

“Naive child,” the ghost mutters. Disgust taints its words. Or is that…

… disappointment?

Danny doesn’t have time to figure it out. The ghost continues speaking.

“Nothing is ever black and white. There is never such a thing as two absolute sides.” It picks up a single dry leaf and twirls it in its hand. “Everything begins, and everything ends. What happens in between is in shades of gray.”

Danny’s head is beginning to spin. “In English please?”

The ghost sighs. “You expect life and death to remain two very distinct sides, never touching one another. This is shortsightedness.” It lets the leaf go. It drifts away on a breeze. “Life and death intermingle closer than you can ever imagine.”

Danny’s breath catches in his throat. “Life and… death?”

“Of course.” The ghost’s eyes turn on him. “What did you expect this to be about?”

“I… I don’t…” Danny’s tongue feels thick in his mouth suddenly. Words choke up in his throat, and he can’t get them out.

Before the portal accident, ghosts were a thing of fantasy. Simply his parents’ crackpot ravings. The accident proved those crackpot ravings to be real. As real as anything else. Despite the dozens of people telling him he’s hallucinating, or that he’s psychotic, he knows this is all real.

He can feel it, deep within him.

But for as real as he knows ghosts and their world are, he’s never had to consider why they exist. Where they truly come from.

Something flutters in his chest, and he can’t decide if it’s his heart or something else.

Human. Ghost.

Life. Death.

And him, somehow wrapped up in it all.

He thinks he might throw up for the second time that day.

The ghost is apparently unbothered by Danny’s newest existential crisis. “What you consider to be my world is in constant contact with what you consider to be yours. And yours is in constant contact with mine. They influence each other. They exist within one another. They are inseparable, woven into each other.”

It floats over to one of the electrical poles. There’s nothing remarkable about it. “You must be able to see this coalescence if you ever wish to understand the intricacies of things as complex as portals. So, halfling…” It pauses to run a hand down the pole.

“Tell me what you see.”

Danny is at a loss. Maybe his brain is finally starting to catch up with everything that has happened in the last couple of hours. Maybe he’s finally becoming overwhelmed by all this. Ghosts wanting to help him, a strange awakening of powers slumbering inside him, everything traveling through the crack had fed him…

… talks of life and death…

He wants this to be a nightmare. He wants to wake up. He wants to go back to a few hours ago - no, yesterday - no, last month - no, a year and a half ago, and pretend this doesn’t exist.

His heart beats faster.

Io Europa Ganymede

“I don’t see anything,” Danny insists, even as inhuman colors and glowing lights creep into his vision.

“What do you see, halfling?”

“I think I’m done,” he tries. “I - I can’t…”

Can’t what? Can’t try? Can’t see?

Callisto, Almathea, Himalia

Can’t… breathe?

His heart races.

“You must see.”

“I don’t want to,” he gasps. Static is filling the air, and he doesn’t know if he can catch his breath. Why can’t he catch his breath? He should be able to catch his breath.

What am I?

The dirt road groans, and dust stirs.

Elara… Pasiphae…

“Please…” His knees shake and the air around him sizzles and the glowing lights are looking at him.

“You must see, halfling.”

He can feel the crack building inside him. It wants out. It pounds against his chest and strangles his heart.

Where is his pulse?

What am I?

The dirt road groans louder.

Sinope…

Even without a mirror, Danny can feel the cold burn in his eyes. Knows they are blazing toxic green. The same green as the lights staring at him.

The… ghosts staring at him.

One of them prods at the pole the ghost floats beside. Like it’s pointing.

Carvings begin to appear on the pole, in the same inhuman colors he can’t name. They’re shoddy, messily carved, and clearly not English. Symbols of lines and swoops and dots.

Danny can read them.

“We see you,” they say.

“No…” he groans. Hands fly up to grip his head, and the glow from his eyes give the illusion of the fire that had consumed those hands not twenty minutes earlier.

He can’t feel his heart anymore.

What am I?

“You see now,” the ghost says. It is unblinking and stoic in the face of Danny’s crisis.

In a last fit of desperation, as he claws for anything to pull him out of this, Danny latches on to the fleeting thrill of crossing through the crack. He tries to remember how it felt. How wonderful it was to feel empowered for once. How the energy seemed to embrace him, not work against him.

How he felt like he could do anything.

He latches on, expecting it to offer relief to his crying body. He wants it to bring him back down to Earth, ground him where cracks and seemingly invisible ghosts and strange words and life and death cannot get to him.

Much to his dismay, it seems to have the opposite effect. His body remembers how it felt to hold that energy.

And now…

What am I?

… it wants more.

The ghost is in front of him once more. When did it get there?

Danny can’t scream as the ghost lifts a hand towards his chest. He’s long since lost the ability to breathe.

“And now, the final touch,” the ghost murmurs. It presses a single finger in the center of Danny’s chest.

And everything explodes in a blinding white light.

____________________________________________________________

At one of his follow-up appointments, shortly after the explosion, Danny finally worked up the courage to ask something that had been plaguing him since he’d woken up in the hospital.

How bad was it? he had asked the doctor. How close was I to…

The doctor had refused to look him in the eye. You’re a very lucky boy, Danny, was all she would say.

He never did find out how close he came to death’s door that day.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When the light clears, Danny opens his eyes.

Something has changed. Something is wrong.

Something is very, very wrong.

He clutches his chest, trying to feel his heart, but it feels as though a snowball has taken residence where it should be. It pulses, but not at a frequency he is familiar with. It’s almost as though he can hear it pulse rather than feel it.

It’s unnaturally bright. He looks down and chokes back a sob of surprise to see his body wrapped in a gentle glow.

What am I?

Trembling, he raises his left arm. How he remembers that it’s that one, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to know.

He pulls back the sleeve of the black hoodie (why is it black, he’s never owned a black hoodie) and stares in silent horror at the grotesque display of lightning that runs up his arm and disappears back into the hoodie.

It’s when bangs of snow white fall in front of his eyes that he collapses to the ground.

“No,” he whimpers. His voice echoes with static stronger than it ever has. “Please, God, no.”

What am I?

“Astounding.”

Danny’s head snaps up to look at the ghost. He falters when he realizes he can see the ghost’s features now, clear as day even though its face remains partially shrouded in shadow. Those damning red eyes - one marred by a scar - twinkle at him with fascination.

“What did you do to me?” he croaks. “I can’t… I’m not…”

“As I told you, halfling,” the ghost says. Its gentle, knowing smile sends chills down Danny’s spine and sets alarm bells ringing in his head. “Life and death must meet somewhere.”

It bends down to Danny’s level. “As it would seem, you are that somewhere.”

A strangled sob escapes Danny’s throat.

“Congratulations, Danny.” It sweeps its arm out, a staff in hand. Another crack spirals into existence, accompanied by the haunting echoes of ticking clocks. “You have learned all you need to from me.”

Without another word, it disappears into the crack. The crack closes with the toll of a bell.

Tears prickle at Danny’s eyes. He can only turn and look down the dirt road, at the product of his creation.

A green crack splits the road in two, as far as Danny can see.

Danny falls against the ground and cries.

#danny phantom #ectoimplosion2023 #danny fenton #hannah writes #danny phantom fanfic #fanfic

171 notes · View notes

damiansgoodgirll · 9 months

Note

angst with the judgment day please?

i wasn’t sure if i was gonna post this, i was in a really bad place (and still i am), this is very personal to me, but i honestly spent too many hours writing and crying over this, so grab a tissue and enjoy.

‼️ mention of depression, anxiety, insomnia and panic attacks

the judgment day x reader

don’t push us away

“don’t do this…” rhea begged you with tears spilling from her eyes.

“do what?” you asked, pretending to not know what she was referring to.

“don’t push us away…don’t push me away, don’t do this…please” you hated the way she and the whole judgment day were concerned for you, you hated the way you were causing them pain but you just couldn’t help feel that way.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about” you said. you never had been good with feelings, everything that happened in your life, you just pretended it never happened because you couldn’t talk about it.

your parents never really cared about you, sure they loved you and they still do but they never really understood you and they never will. your friends, no matter how amazing they were, they just couldn’t understand what you went through and it didn’t care how many times you tried to tell them, they really didn’t care.

so you ended up alone, alone with yourself, with your thoughts. alone, drowning in your own tears.

alone, with your mind. the same mind that always blamed you for everything that happened, even if it wasn’t really your fault.

then, growing up, the people you called friends, started ignoring you and leaving you behind, only reaching out to you when you achieved the success they couldn’t have.

and in those years, you learnt how to never count on other people.

something changed when you joined the judgment day. you saw how close they were and you thought you would just ruin their friendship, because in that moment you were like a stranger, an outsider. but they all made you feel welcomed and you couldn’t be more grateful for.

you tried to hide your depression, the panic attacks you got when you were all touring together, the anxiety eating you alive and the amount of sleepless nights you’ve spent. you always said you were okay and they all believed it, at first.

but then, rhea and the rest of the team noticed something shifting in you. the way you were tired all the time, the way you never wanted to talk to anyone, the way your text messages were only like “okay” “yes” “no”, the way you almost didn’t care about anything at all, like you were thoughtless.

in reality you were just dying inside but you didn’t want people to see that, you couldn’t handle the disappointment they would have in you.

“you keep pushing me, us away and we don’t know what to do to help you…let us help you, please sweetheart” rhea said, her face covered with tears while you were trying to hold back yours.

“i don’t need your help rhea, i’m fine” you stated.

“but you’re not” damian stood up from his chair “you’re not fine and we can see it, we would really like to help you”

“i know it’s hard but-…” dominik started talking.

“you know shit dom! stop fucking talking! i’m fine and i don’t need anybody’s help, why can’t you fucking let it go?” you ended up screaming.

of course you weren’t fine. but you definitely weren’t going to talk to them about what was making upset.

they were taken back from your behaviour. you were the calm type, never screaming and always composed.

“just talk to us…” finn spoke quietly. he immediately felt a wave of protection from the first time he met you. maybe it was because you were the youngest member of the group, and he almost felt like a father toward you so it was killing him seeing you like that.

“i’d rather go home, thanks” you said sarcastically.

they knew you were in pain, they just didn’t know what to do.

“we care about you…” finn almost begged you.

“no you don’t! don’t pretend you do cause no one ever did care about me! i don’t need you to pity me…i just, i don’t need you” you said. you really didn’t mean it in that way, but you have trusted so many people in your life and they always ended up with breaking your trust in and you didn’t want to make that mistake again.

but you were so close to break down and you didn’t want to do it in front of them.

“we’re not pitying you…we are your friends and we are worried, please” finn looked at you and you knew you couldn’t lie to him.

a few tears fell from your eyes but you were quick to wipe them away.

“let us in…” finn grabbed your hand.

“why? so you could use everything i have to say against me when you’ll be mad?”

“we will never do that y/n…” rhea spoke.

“everybody said so..then i ended up fucking alone” you said.

“we’re not everybody, we are your friends, we are your family…we care about you more than you could ever imagine…” damian said, helping you sit down on the small leather couch.

“i’m not good with this…talking about feelings and traumas and stuff…i’m not good and no one really cared so why should i start now?” you whispered.

“because whatever you’re going through, we are here for you…” rhea said kneeling in front of you.

you thought for a moment. you felt like you were going to explode at any minute and you needed to get everything off of your chest. you just didn’t know how, because every time you talked about something personal you always ended up joking about it, knowing it would make it less awkward for you.

“it started everything when i was a teen, around fourteen…you had no idea how hard was growing up knowing that you were invisible, knowing that no one cared about you. knowing that you had your five or six friends but also knowing that they wouldn’t really care about you…it’s been hard, still it is…i’ve always been there for every single one of them, always and when i needed them the most they just left…” you began explaining and the team listened carefully “so i started counting on myself and myself only but then it became tiring…knowing that i was fucking alone all the single time, i couldn’t handle it…i just i couldn’t…so i tried to make it stop, but it definitely didn’t work since i’m still here…” you joked, even if you knew it wasn’t the best time to joke about it “anyway i’ve spent so many sleepless nights wishing i could sleep forever and never wake up again…and the days and years i’ve spent hurting myself, thinking it could change something, i just hurt myself even more…and then things happened, things that i didn’t want to happen, situations where i couldn’t say no even if i wanted…and i’ve spent so many years blaming me and i still do…with the years going by everything became too much…my therapist told me to talk about it with someone i really cared, and when i tried, those people went to ignore me…i just, i made it so good all alone and but the same time i just fucking hate being alone all the time!” you ended up crying in damian’s arms. you didn’t even realise how curled up close to his body you were.

his hands were gently stroking your back, almost in a reassuring way.

your confession shocked them but they knew you needed them and they didn’t want to leave you alone.

“i’m so sorry you’ve been into all of those things y/n…i can’t imagine how painful it must have been, i wish i could have helped you before…” finn wiped his tears away and grabbed your hands.

“thank you for telling us…i know it’s hard but we’re gonna help you healing…we’re here for you sweetheart…and we’re glad you opened up with us, we’re gonna be with you, anytime you need us, if you want to talk or if you just want to watch a movie or stay in silent all night, we’re gonna be there, i promise you, you don’t have to do this alone” rhea hugged you and you ended up crying in her arms.

“thank you…” you whispered.

they all agreed with rhea, letting you know that maybe for the first in your life, you didn’t have to go through all of the pain alone.

155 notes · View notes

ghosts-bandwagon · 1 year

Note

hi dear can you do hcs with price of what hes like during an argument with his fem s/o. what would they most likely disagree on or what causes an argument, does he apologize first, how does he make it up, etc ☺️

OOH I like this one!

I think what’d cause the argument is poor communication, or rather you didn’t listen to him. Regardless of it being a life or death situation, it’s important to him to be listened to. It’s not just a respect thing, it’s that he wouldn’t waste his breath if he didn’t know what he was talking about.

He tries really hard to keep a level head throughout the argument but he also goes off of what you would be showing. So if you’re calm and reasonable, then he’s the same way. He might be frustrated and it might reflect a little in his tone but he’s calm for the most part.

But if you’re really worked up, then chances are that he is too. He’s going to try really fucking hard to maintain the voice of reason but eventually it whittles away and his frustration becomes evident.

I can see him raising his voice but he’s never mean about it. However, he can definitely get a little mean.

“How fucking difficult is it for you to understand?”

“Do I look like I’d willingly waste my fucking time?”

Not only is he upset about not being listened to, but he’s upset that you’re spending what little time he has arguing when he’d much rather spend it doing literally anything else

But if he crosses the line, he’ll know it and he’ll back peddle so fucking hard

“You can’t possibly be this stupid, it’s not that fucking difficult.”

All bets are off the table as soon as he sees you recoil a little bit, his words stinging and ringing in your ears

He’s so disappointed in himself, he’s apologizing immediately, any heat he had in regards to your argument is gone immediately.

Even though he’s apologizing he’s also trying to get his point across gently,

“I went too far, sweetheart, I’m sorry.” He sighs pinching the bridge of his nose, he takes a deep breath, “let’s take a moment, yeah?”

After a few beats of silence, he reorients the argument and brings it down to a conversation, much more conscious of his temper this time and significantly calmer

If the argument is his fault, he apologizes right away, it might take a minute for you to convince him, he has a bad habit of doubling down, but if you’re insistent, calm, and clear in how you communicate where he went wrong, it’ll click and he’ll apologize for whatever he did to upset you and for arguing with you about it

If the argument is your fault, he’s expecting an apology for sure. Even if he has to go into detail on where you went wrong and why, he still wants an apology.

Once a resolution has been reached, with your permission, he’s pulling you into a hug, pressing your head against his chest and apologizing for getting worked up.

“Dinner’s on me tonight, whatever you’re feeling, love.”

He feels bad and will definitely spoil you, regardless of whoever’s fault the argument was. At the end of the day, he wants to fall asleep beside you and wake up with you in his arms, that’s all that matters to him.

#captain john price x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #price x reader #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod headcanons

417 notes · View notes

george-weasleys-girl · 1 year

Note

Would you be able to write one with reader defending George to her friends and soft boi overhears and practically melts. If you would be so kind.

Low-key got excited that you did you might start writing for Fred as well as I'm a slut for both twins :) (Most definitely George thou but Fred kinda close second 😉)

I love this! Thank you for requesting it, anon. I hope you enjoy it!

Wonderful You

Warnings: cursing, depression

~•~

There are some days that just lay on you like a stone. Today was one of those days for George. Nothing in particular caused it. It was just something that happened to him from time to time, and he didn't know why.

George pushed the covers off, already exhausted. It was as if his body was made of lead. He could barely lift his head from the pillow, and it ached, no... hurt, to pull himself out of bed. To get dressed. To put one foot in front of the other. But it would hurt more without you by his side. So, he did all of it and made his way downstairs.

It was Thursday, which meant you were already up for your volunteer shift at the library. He'd get there just in time for your shift to end. Then you could go cuddle for hours on end, as the two of you always did when he was having one of his black days.

~•~

He could hear voices outside the library before he rounded the corner.

"I just don't understand what you see in him," one said. "I mean, he's cute, I'll give you that. But he's such an annoying prat."

It didn't occur to George that they were talking about him until he heard his girlfriend's voice.

"Well, it's a good thing he's my boyfriend and not yours," Y/N snapped.

"Look, Y/N were not trying upset you," said another voice. "We just think you could, you know, do so much better."

George peeked around the corner to see Y/N standing with her arms crossed, facing two of her Ravenclaw friends, Abby and Lydia.

"Excuse me," Y/N retorted. "But, you don't know a damn thing about him or our relationship."

"I know enough to know the only thing he cares about are his precious pranks and ridiculous inventions. He'll never amount to anything. Even his own mother knows that." Lydia said.

George slunk back into the shadows, sinking down on the nearby bench, head in his hands. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it refused to budge. What if Lydia was right? What if his mum was right? What if he was nothing more than a series of disappointments?

What if?

What if he didn't deserve someone as wonderful as Y/N? What if he'd only bring her down?

He was seconds away from shuffling back upstairs and burying himself in bed when Y/N's voice stopped him in his tracks. George turned and peeked around the corner again.

"As I said," Y/N's voice was steady, but there was an edge to it that hinted at the rage seething just beneath her skin. "You don't know a damn thing about him. You only see what you want to see. So, until you get off your high horse and make an effort to get to know the most amazing, sweet, brilliant human being to ever come into my life, I suggest you shut the fuck up."

Abby snorted. "I'm sorry Y/N but, brilliant? Brilliant? Really? He can barely be bothered to do his schoolwork. I shudder to think of his grades."

George watched in awe as his barely five foot girlfriend rounded on the very tall, wide-eyed Abby and backed her against the wall.

"You should have stopped at 'I'm sorry,' she said. "But, that's ok, because now I know who you really are. An arrogant, elitist snob. George is more intelligent than ten of you. He actually knows how to use his brain instead of just parroting back facts."

"But..." Abby started.

"Nope." Y/N cut her off. "I don't want to hear anything else you have to say. You've lost the privilege to talk to me."

Abby looked like she might cry. Y/N didn't care. She whirled around and ran smack into Lydia.

"The same goes for you." Y/N tried to go around the girl, but Lydia stepped in front of her.

"Please, Y/N, don't be like this," she pled. "I know we came off a bit gruff, but it's only because we care. We don't want to see you--" Lydia's words trailed off.

"What?" Y/N asked, stepping closer. "You don't want to see me what?"

"Well, it's just, you have so much potential and we just don't want to see it wasted on a--"

"A Weasley? Is that what you're saying?" Y/N was now almost nose to nose with Lydia, who stumbled, trying to back away from the irate witch.

"Let me tell you something, both of you," Y/N began. "I'm am the luckiest girl in the world because George Weasley loves me. And I'm doubly lucky because his family loves me too. And I ever catch wind of either of you saying one word against George or his family again, I will hex you with so many spells it'll take decades to untangle them all."

Y/N bent down to pick up her cloak, which had slipped off her shoulders and onto the floor. "Stay away from me," she warned her ex-friends. "And away from George." Then she turned and stomped away.

~•~

Y/N was so furious that she didn't even notice George when she rounded the corner. A yelp escaped her lips before she realized it was her boyfriend who'd grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug.

"Oh hi, sweetie!" Y/N gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I love you so much, Y/N," he mummered into her ear. "How are you even real? How are you even mine?"

Y/N heard the tremor in his voice and pushed back a little so she could see his face. "Georgie, have you been crying?" The question was rhetorical, of course, because his bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes gave him away.

"Uh, maybe a little."

A little, my ass. "Did you hear any of that conversation?"

George nodded, releasing his hold on her to wipe his eyes.

Dammit. "Now, you listen to me, George. Don't you dare believe one word they said. They're stuck-up idiots who don't deserve a second thought. Ok?"

George nodded again. "Will you marry me?" The question came completely out of the blue. "I know we're only seventeen, and we still have to finish school, and I don't have ring, and--"

Y/N silenced him with a kiss. "Yes," she said, eyes sparkling even in the dim light. "A thousand times, yes! But let's graduate first, ok," she added with a smile.

George nodded and gathered her up into another bear hug. "I love you, and I promise I'll take care of you and never disappoint--"

"Georgie, sweetheart," she gently interrupted. "Are you sure you're ok?"

"No," he whispered. "But I will be."

Y/N looked at him, really looked at him, and it hit her.

"Oh lovey," she said. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I am--I was," he stammered. "I came down to find you, but I heard those things being said about me, and it hurt. I started to think that maybe they were true and I almost left. But, then you said all those wonderful things, and you made me feel like the most special person in the world."

Y/N smiled up at him. "That's because you are the most special person in the world. And, to me, you always will be."

A smile spread across George's face for the first time since he woke up. "Just when I think I can't love you anymore than I already do." He leaned down and kissed her gently, their foreheads resting together even after they pulled away.

"Now, how about we grab some breakfast and go find a quiet place to snuggle the day away?" Y/N asked.

"Yes, please." George smiled sheepishly. "As long as you don't have anything more important to do."

"There is nothing and no one more important than you, my sweet Georgie."

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you #george weasley angst #george weasley fluff

702 notes · View notes

willowedwisteria · 2 years

Text

⁂~The Ends of Time~⁂

Summary -> Convincing the archons to take a break is so hard, they definitely like working.

Note -> I've definitely written about this... YEAH, I DEFINITELY HAVE. Just consider this an updated/different version. Variety is good

IF YOU HAVE BEEN TAGGED IN MY TAGLIST: I mixed up the taglist for my "the system" series and my other works, please send me an ask to specify if you're okay with being tagged in my other works or if you want to be tagged specifically for my series

Featuring -> Zhongli, Baal, Venti

Genre -> fluff

Around a year has passed since you first arrived in Teyvat. From simply that, you've noticed how people have guarded you with such vigilance. Security is always a must when you go out, returning with a single scratch causes chaos, and these people really care for you.

They know so much. About baking your favorite cake - which you happened to have a debate with your friend about before you got suddenly transported. There's also the time they noticed how much wood you collected when you were still in-game using characters as if they've been watching how much time you used up to decorate the teapot.

However, you're sure they have to be tired or bored after being so loyal, for so long.

"Say," You stir around your tea lightly, "What's the point of staying by my side for so long? Morax and Barbatos - well, Zhongli and Venti now - you have already retired, have you not?"

You watch Zhongli frowns and Venti holds back his laughter.

"I can slightly understand why Ei insists on staying by my side. Even so, what's the purpose of all of this? Really, you all are just troubling yourself."

Ei purses her lips in response to your questions. Your words sink deeper into her mind, taking their time to fully soak in.

"How about this," The three of them turn their gaze back to face you, all waiting expectantly for you to retract your last statements, "You all go on a break.

Unlike the two panicking archons next to him, when Venti hears of a break, he feels not the slightest bit of panic. While yes, he'll definitely be disappointed - he won't be by your side after all! Who will he share all of his favorite apples with? Plus, you've always loved coming to the tavern with him! A moment without you feels like boredom.

He nods in respect to you, allowing you to catch it from the corner of your eye whilst both Ei and Zhongli are in denial. You give him a thumbs-up, smiling assuringly in his direction.

Venti turns away quickly, cheeks flushing up. it's a shame he won't be able to see that euphoric smile of yours for a while. The more he looks at it, the more he'll miss it dearly.

With that, he follows the trail of the wind, disappearing from your sight. You shout goodbye to him, and it might have been your imagination, but you're pretty sure the wind became much more gentle.

"That bard..." Zhongli and Baal are practically seething. How could he just escape like that and accept it so easily? Zhongli shakes his head, sighing to regain his composure in front of you. Baal, however, seems to be clutching her polearm... a little too tight.

"I suppose since he's already left, that means he agrees to your suggestion." Zhongli stares off in the direction of Mondstadt, "I... do not doubt your grace's ability to defend yourself, but it's impossible not to worry."

Zhongli's eyes furrow, visibly concerned.

You take a small sip of the recently brewed tea, "I can see that from how both of you are so insistent on staying by my side, but you both don't need to worry. I'm just saying to take a break from being by me, you can visit me once in a while."

Before relief can be dropped onto Zhongli and Baal, you continue.

"No taking up jobs to guard me."

It feels like an invisible blade strikes them.

"No more than 24-hour visits."

A huge rock is suddenly thrown onto their backs.

"And you have to wait for another 2 days before visiting me again."

Woah, when did they become so lifeless? They've practically grown wrinkles already! Jeez.

Zhongli bears it, gritting his teeth, "...Yes, your grace. I will see you... as soon as possible. However, I will be forced to disobey your orders if you are in any sort of danger."

You nod, "That's fine with me. As long as you have a valid reason."

With that, the geo archon turns his back to you and leaves silently. You hear a few boulders being smashed after he leaves, and you wonder if he had run into any trouble. Well, he's the geo archon, he's more capable than anyone you know. You're sure he's fine.

And now, to convince the last one.

Ei quietly bites her lip, not willing to look you in the eye. Just from her shaking fist, you could tell she was against this. "Ei, are you upset with me?"

Her head jerks up, opening her mouth to disagree. Her polearm fades from her grasp, both of Ei's hands interlocking in front of her as she tries to piece together her sentence.

"Your grace, not being here with you, not being able to protect you when you're in danger is... risky." Ei can't even begin to imagine how much despair will eat her from the inside out if you ever get hurt, "I will be there for you, forever."

You lean on the table next to you, already finished with your cup of tea, the bittersweet taste left on your tongue. "You've already been there for me, for so long already. As grateful as I can, taking a break is necessary."

Sighing, already missing the presence of both the geo and anemo archon, "You wouldn't want me to worry about you being overworked, would you? I'll allow Raiden Shogun, that puppet of yours to accompany me if you really are so anxious."

You laugh to yourself, already imagining the complaints from both of them when they see that you let "Ei" stay by you.

"You can start by going to see Venti and telling him about my rules for visiting. If you want to know where I'll be staying, I'm going off to Sneznhaya for a week. The next week, I'll be in Mondstadt."

You wave lightly to her, watching her pout. Switching from denial to acceptance, she bows to you and heads off to Mondstadt.

The electro archon throws herself into her work, trying to distract herself from thinking about you. Unluckily for her, she's surrounded by everything, and everything reminds her of you.

"Oh, those flowers, their grace would look good in that shade."

"My, the scenery, it's just as breathtaking as their grace."

"The hairclip... I wonder if their grace still has the other piece."

She can't help but miss you. She dreams of you, being by you, basking in your presence, ensuring you're always safe. Your words of gratefulness shove her onto her knees and she can't help but adore how you could be so... so... enchanting.

Ei misses you so much.

She had sent over her puppet and wondered if her son Scaramouche would be there for you. Though, it doesn't stop the back of her head from generating scenarios of you being in trouble without her.

Once she can visit you, she's practically been revived, upbeat as ever. Her usual unexpressive self around others switches, you could see that sincere grin from ear to ear on her face when she's with you.

You could practically read her thoughts and emotions, delivering her a box of desserts from outside of Inazuma and a note to comfort her.

Ei will insist that Yae travels over to ensure that you're okay and guard you. However, Yae spends that time gossiping with you, exaggerating jokingly about how much of a miserable state Ei is in currently.

Venti

He's been quite leisurely enjoying his holiday. Venti had nothing else to do now since he's put his trust in the people of Mondstadt to handle their own issues.

He spends his day exploring the woods, enjoying life, and spending his time at the tavern.

Venti knows that you know what you're doing, he won't be wasting his time off working overtime. He'll visit you the least out of the three, but you coincidentally see him more since you visit the tavern quite a bit as well - admittedly, he's drunk 99.9% of the time you happen to stop by.

Diluc mentioned to you when you drop by about Venti being more relaxed. "His tab is piling up and at a remarkable speed too."

You laugh, "I would pay it for him, but you wouldn't let me."

"I'm not letting you pay so much for someone who isn't even awake right now."

Dvalin also had a small chat with you! Saying about how Venti went through all 5 stages of grief in a day. No matter how laidback he seemed to be, when Venti's drunk, his emotions get amplified.

Denial was a rollercoaster, anger and bargaining were just a bunch of complaining, depression was just pouting angrily in the corner, and acceptance was Venti falling asleep.

"...How did he become an archon again?"

Zhongli

Zhongli does worry about you, but he uses his break as an opportunity to prepare something special for you. A gift perhaps? Celebrations? Who knows? He just wants it to be for you.

He found a bit of a loophole since you didn't mention anything about letters too. You didn't really notice or mind since it was thrown into the mountain of letters that other acolytes had sent to you when they wanted to check up on you. It would take a while before you finally reached his letter.

He'll leave Childe in your care, aware of his abilities when it comes to fighting. Perhaps the traveler will happen to be around as well. He's sure that the shield he left on you will protect you as well.

He spends most of his time with Hu Tao when he's in Liyue. He can't just make Mora appear again like he used to after all.

While Zhongli absolutely loathes with his whole soul how he can't be there for you and serve you, he feels a bit more fulfilled once he visits you. Oh boy, life without Zhongli handling things was chaotic though and he noticed that during his visits.

Things are a mess without our dear Geo archon around. Usually, orders are given by him from you. He covers up mistakes and his presence alone is reassuring enough for the maids and butlers to carry out their job without worries.

Without him, maids and butlers have to speak with you directly and receive orders from you. Some have been so astounded and entranced by you, so much so that they miss your orders or hear them wrongly.

Others have been so scared about making a mistake in your food or your orders that they can't even stand up. The maids and butlers have described Zhongli as an efficient leader, whilst they've described your company as powerful and captivating - so much so that they can't focus.

In other words, things are VERY messy. You'll allow him to return by your side soon.

(Riku is probably fine, he's slowly taking control of the situation at his own desired pace [Riku is my OC])

Tag list -> Taglist -> @under-a-starry-night, @yourfaveisblack, @bardisipatos, @callmemeelah, @kithewanderingme, @pale-value, @bamboowritess/@bamboowritess, @uchihaeirin, @karmawonders, @lunavixia, @anfre109, @ly-archives, @zuyoo, @pimacolada-lulu, @bimboing, @gallantys, @swaggyb0ke, @borbsbirbs, @shizunxie, @tiffthescales, @genshin-impacts-me, @keithsaccount, @mkaella, @mentallyunpresent, @alicehasdrowned, @franc-1-s, @no-regrets-just-confusion, @christmaspickl, @lunalily19

Special tags -> @is-very-sad, @chocoenvy, @raidengaile/@ly-archives/@simplygaile, @saigomo, @gunterdon, @emilemovhi, @lovelyy-moraxx, @demon-bane, @i-put-the-yan-in-polyandry, @xiaophilia/@ayayaxia, @thewindstale, @creation-magician, @my-white-canvas/@pale-value, @yuzuricebun, @ventivity, @sweetstrawberrybabe, @euthym1as, @lotterymology, @mx-kamisato, @matsutake-san

604 notes · View notes

hwanchaesong · 18 days

Text

━⁠☞🍽️ Eighth Course: If you squint, you'll effectively recognize the facts that everything about his new girl is... disgustingly similar to your image. Talk about serving it in a silver platter. 🥢

🎧: Olivia Rodrigo - Deja Vu

wc: 838

genre & warnings: angst, flashbacks, hints of betrayal/cheating, cursing, lovers to exes, Lia of ITZY is featured here, etc etc

a/n: this is a part of The Sour Restaurant series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

You almost laughed at the man who was standing on your porch, looking like a poor child in need of assistance.

"Choi Jongho, what the fuck are you doing here?" you asked incredulously, crossing your arms in annoyance at this ridiculous situation.

He pouts at your aggressiveness, not used to this kind of attitude of yours towards him.

Normally, you'd be so sweet and nurturing, kissing his pout away and cooing at him, asking him what's wrong. But he guesses that disturbing your sleep and knowing that you still haven't forgiven him are good reasons for your change.

His silence further vexes you, raising your eyebrow along with your voice.

"Jongho, I asked you a damn question. Answer it! What are you doing here?!"

"I missed you." he mumbles and you nearly didn't hear him, but you did.. and you are absolutely, insanely furious at his audacity.

He comes barging in your life, causing a cyclone, then he leaves you in the middle of the storm, and he returns like nothing ever happened.

He's treating you like some kind of motel, and it's very disrespectful on your side.

"You missed me? Why? Did your new girl dump you?"

"No, but she resembles you so much that I can't help but remember you through her."

Lame. Lame fucking excuse but you somehow understand it.

Why?

Because you saw how she's basically you, a twin perhaps.

When you and Jongho broke up, which was a nasty one, it left you incredibly shattered. You were basically shaking as you picked up your pieces and tried to glue it back together so you'll be able to function like a human being again.

But you also went into the stages of grief, the worse one was the in-denial part.

You were about to throw your phone on the wall, an action that you will definitely regret later but your friend, Lia, thankfully stopped you from doing so.

"No! Y/N, calm down!" she yells, pinning you down on the mattress and doing her best to comfort you.

You let go of your phone, from your palm it landed on the sheets and Lia's eyes went over to it. Realizing that you're stalking Jongho's social media account.

She shakes her head in disappointment but she can't exactly blame you. She knows what you're going through and she's willing to take care of you until you can stand on your own feet again.

"Lia!" you wailed in her arms, bags in your eyes and hair turning greasy for not showering the whole day.

"I-I see his new girl and it's m-me! If he wants a girl like me then I'm here! Why does he need to look for others!?" you shouted and cried and she stayed there to listen to your rants.

Lia scans the phone again, lulling you into sleep and she can't help the cringe on her face.

Jongho's new girlfriend does seem like a clone of you.

Same hair, same facial features, same physical attributes, heck even the way she dresses.

If you are the standard that he's keen on keeping, then why would he leave you alone at the end of the altar while he meets other girls that will inevitably bring him back to you.

You do not, cannot, and will not accept such bullshit.

But that was back then, when you were too naive to realize that the world is a large place to explore. You had to be the bigger person, no, not forgive but you'd rather forget, and you did say to your family and friends that you wish Jongho well.

Now though, that he stands in front of you, all you could think of is how you should've wished him hell instead.

"Oh you've got to be bullshitting me, Jongho." you chuckled, tone full of mockery and irony, "I'm not dealing with this, I'm done with you."

Before you can shut the door on his face, he puts a foot in and it accidentally gets caught in the middle. You winced and almost apologized but you held yourself back, in the back of your head, he somehow deserves that pain.

"Ow!" he grumbles, but he straightens himself up in a mere second, "Y/N, please. We can talk this out."

If you hear one more begging, you think you'll have to choke yourself.

"Jongho, the 'talk' you're saying has been long overdue." you smile, truly infuriated, "Well then, go have fun recycling our routine to your new relationship."

You slammed the door, locking it— locking him out.

You have spent lots of sleepless nights thinking about the things that he's doing with his new girlfriend, the one that he easily replaced you with.

You have thought about them eating at the restaurants that you frequently went to, watching the movies that you have recommended to him before, singing their hearts out during late night drives.

It's maddening, and now that you're only starting to get some rest, you are not gonna allow him to ruin that.

taglist:

@acciocriativity @iarayara @stolasisyourparent @xdannix @nsixns @heartssol @vixensss @shakalakaboomboo

45 notes · View notes

lillylvjy · 1 year

Text

wait- ghost?!

a/n- hey! Long time- um. Here’s the ghost au! I had no clue what to title this so, I may change it in a little bit! But this will be a series, I already have part 2 done! Hopefully people like this- but yeah! Enjoy!

Warnings// death, murder, ghost, knife (also being thrown), blood mentioned once, brief mention of reader being short (they just can’t reach something), Wilbur being a flirt, Tommy being Tommy, mentions of food and if there’s anything else, please tell me!

Edited- yes!

wc- 1.3k

You were new to the neighborhood, so no wonder why people were looking out their windows when you arrived with a moving van. Or maybe it’s because someone actually wanted to live in the house that everyone avoided because of its past.

A couple years ago, a man in his early 20’s, along with his brother, got brutally murdered in the same exact house you were now standing in. And it was yours. Nothing seemed off, but you can definitely feel a sense of sadness and anger. ‘From what?’ people may ask, but you didn’t really know yourself. All you know is that the parents moved across the world after the incident, wanting to get far away from the place that caused them so much hurt. Which is understandable.

But here you were. In that house, standing in the middle of an empty, soon to be, living room. Smiling at the ideas running through your head as you started unboxing things.

You had drug all the furniture in and placed them randomly around the room for now until you got to decorating.

You quickly made work as you unboxed everything for the bathroom, your bedroom, and anything else you had for the time being. You saved the kitchen for last, knowing that’d take you the most time with how much stuff you have from your parents and other family members.

As you started to unpack all the kitchenware you had, you quickly were made aware of your surroundings.

“Well hello!” You jumped as you heard a deep, british voice come from behind you. Quickly grabbing a knife from the holder on the counter, you turned around to see a man, brown curly hair sitting on top of his head with a grey crewneck and black jeans on, probably somewhere in his early 20’s, smiling at you.

“Who- who are you?!” You asked, pointing the knife at him as to defend yourself. Yet all he did was laugh and shake his head.

“You don’t know who I am?! Also sweetheart, you can put that down. That won’t do anything for you.” The man said as he stood up from the chair he sat in, standing taller than you thought he would, pointing at the knife. Before he could take another steps forward, you threatened him once more.

“I swear- I’m not afraid to use this! Don’t come any further!” You shakingly told the tall man in front of you.

“Darling I promise that won’t do anything-“ as he started to take another step forward, you threw the knife at him. The knife ended up lodged into his stomach. He froze and looked at you with the most disappointed face you’ve ever seen.

“Ow? Seriously sweetheart, what do you want me to say?!” He questioned as he took the knife out of his stomach. It was clean. He was clean. No blood on the knife nor soaking up his shirt.

“What the hell-“ you said as you looked at him with wide eyes and furrowed eyebrows.

“Don’t look so scared! It’s not as bad as it looks, I promise.” The guy tried to joke but you just shook your head and rubbed your eyes, wanting to get out of this fucked up dream.

“This isn’t real, this isn’t real-“ you repeated as you turned towards the sink and splashed water on your face.

“What’s not real? Me?! Because let me tell me you darling-“ you quickly jumped back from the sink, now seeing the stranger sitting on the counter next to it. “Don’t be so jumpy love, I don’t bite- I mean, unless you want me too.”

You rolled your eyes and quickly shook your head to gather your thoughts. “Ok- you better explain what’s going on and fast.”

The man sighed and hoped down from the counter. “How about introductions first yeah? We got off at the wrong foot. I’m William Watson-Gold. You may call me Wilbur or Wil, either is fine.” Wilbur said as he stepped closer to you. You moved back, bumping into the island and grasping the counter as if it’d protect you from this super attractive man in front of you. “What’s your name sweetness?” He smirked as he leant down to meet your eyes.

“Y/n.” You replied with a monotoned voice, not wanting him to know the effect he had on you so fast.

Wilbur’s smirk turned into one of a smile in ways. His eyes stared into yours as almost to examine who you were and what your backstory was. Like he wanted to get to know you. But he quickly snapped out of his head and took a few steps back, the smirk being thrown back on his face as he looks in the living room.

“You can come out now Tom.” Wil yelled out as you quickly turned to the entrance of the kitchen.

“Fucking finally- you need to stop flirting with them! It’s very uncomfortable to watch!” The boy, Tom, complained as he hopped onto the island counter.

“Ok- what the fuck?!” You yelled as you waved your hands around, trying to figure out what was going on in your home.

“Wait- do they not know we’re-“

“Dead? No, I haven’t gotten there yet. Now continuing my explanation- Me and Tom here are the two unfortunate men that got murdered in this house. We’ve been stuck in this shit hole ever since with very little human interaction besides each other.” Wilbur explained as he leant against the refrigerator.

“Which is why he’s being so flirty with yo- ow!” Tom yelled out as Wilbur punched his arm and glared at him.

“So- you two are, dead?”

“As dead as dead gets.” Wilbur said as he picked up one of the apples you just placed in the fruit bowl and bit into it. “Fuck- I forget how good food taste sometimes!”

“Wait-“ you went up to Wilbur and grabbed his hands, feeling the coldness his body carried with him. You were thinking your hand would go right through him like the shows portray- but your hand stayed perfectly in his. Wilbur would never admit it, but it felt like your hand was meant to be in his. Like it was a puzzle piece that fit perfectly together. “Then how can I touch you? Isn’t my hand supposed to like- go through you or some shit?”

“Stupid movies. No. That shit isn’t real! But us- we are as real as it gets.” Tom said as he took a bite out of the apple Wil stole.

You nodded as you slowly let go of Wilbur’s hand, looking up at him to see his eyes furrowed and almost saddened at the thought of losing that warmth you provided him.

As you both continued to look at each other, not wanting to let the serene moment go, Tom noticed the silence and looks up at the two. Rolling his eyes, his hopped of the counter and stood in between the two and turned to look at Wilbur.

“I’m going to my room- it finally has a bed again and I need my beauty sleep. And for god sake Wil, STOP FLIRTING!” Tom yelled down the stairs. Wilbur scoffed as he looked down at the floor, hiding his face from as it turned red.

“Um- so you guys are just going to be here? With me?” You asked as you went back to unloading everything. Wilbur cleared his throat as he looked back up at you, seeing how you struggled to get the cup on the highest shelve. He smiled and went over to you, grabbing the cup and placing it for you. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem. And yeah, unfortunately. But! We can be somewhat fun! At least you won’t be alone.” Wilbur stated as he moved out of the room and turned to look at you. “I’ll let you be for now darling. Just call my name if you need anything.” Wilbur nodded his head as he walked towards the stairs, disappearing once he passed the wall.

He did have a point. At least you won’t be alone. That was the one thing that worried you.

But , how the hell are you supposed to live with two-

Ghost.

taglist: @deadphantomsociety @jadeissues @sixofshadowandbone @z3ro-to-h3ro @gaytoadwithapopsicle @art3m1s-adelia @mcr-pr-fob @romancingdaffodils @swevenne @maarriiii @ella-fella-bo-bella @opheliq @mysticalsoot @anon-duck (if you wanna be added, all ya have to do is ask lovelies!)

#lilly writes #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot imagine #dsmp wilbur #wilburfromlvjy #wilbur x reader #wilbur x you #wilbur mcyt #x reader

315 notes · View notes

i-literally-cant-with-this · 20 days

Text

"There he is, there he issssss ohmigod!! (Co-worker's name) he ... is ... here. How do I look?" You bent your knees down to look at yourself in the small mirror in the back of the coffee shop, straightening your hair that was already perfectly fine for the situation.

"You look fine. You always look fine. Calm down, y/n. He's just a man."

You gasped, "Take ... that ... back. He is my future husband. The father of my unborn children - I mean, if we want to have any. We'll discuss that later. Over dinner. On our anniversary."

"Oh my god, you're insane. You're literally insane. Whatever. You better get out there and make his coffee or you-know-who will take care of it."

"Over my dead body!" You ran out to the front of the cafe and tried to slow your heart. But it was no use.

Kafka was standing in front of you. Cuter than he was yesterday. His spiky hair stuck out from his head and his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled at you.

"H-hi. What uh, what can I get'cha?" You asked, trying to sound even a little bit confident and failing miserably.

"I dunno. Dunno what I feel like today. What's your favorite thing here?"

You blushed, fighting off the urge to say 'When you come in' to him.

"I like the [your fav. drink]. And you're in luck. I make it better than anyone else here.

He smiled, "That sounds good, I'll take 2."

"Comin' up." You looked calm on the outside - at least you hoped so. Busying yourself with the 2 drinks for him, you tried not to peek over your shoulder to see if anyone was coming in to meet him.

You'd never seen him with a woman here. But that doesn't mean anything. Sighing heavily, you wrapped up making them and wiped down the machine.

"Here you go, 2 [your fav. drink]. Anything else?" You could feel your heart sinking deeper into the recesses of your chest. It felt hollow and it made you want to scream and throw yourself on the floor because someone was going to get that second drink that you made with love. No, not 'love'. Affection, maybe? No, it was definitely made with love. You have never been able to lie to yourself, why start now.

"Thank ya much. But I'll only be needing 1."

You tilted your head, not understanding what the hell he was talking about. "You ... you did say you wanted 2, right? I didn't hear you wrong?"

Kafka laughed, writing something down on one of the cups, "Nooo no no. I did say 2. This one ..." he put the cap back on his pen and held the drink out for you to take back. "...this one ... is for you, darlin'." He blushed and turned his head away from you. No doubt trying to hide the most beautiful shade of pink you've ever seen on a man.

"F-for me? What ... I mean, thanks?"

He looked disappointed for a second. "I uh, I wr-wrote something on the cup. F-for you, I mean."

You frantically turned the cup in your hands and ended up spilling the drink everywhere. "Shit! Oh my ... shit." You tried to read the writing on it but the drink caused the ink bleed and made it illegible. "Great."

Kafka stood there in shock. The amount of strength it took him to build up the nerve to write his phone number down for you was one of the hardest things he's ever done. And it was all washed away in less than 10 seconds.

"I'm so sorry. What did you write down?" Your face was twisted in embarrassment. "Y'know what, my god. Here. Here is my number," you wrote it down on a receipt, "call me. I like you. Ok? I've liked you for about 2 months now.

He smiled and pulled a napkin from the stack on the counter. He took his pen back out and wrote his name and number on it. Putting his hand out for you to take the napkin, "Call me. Anytime. And uh, I like you too." He pulled the napkin back, "Careful! Don't throw this away or something. I'm going to think that we're not meant to be or something, heh."

Tucking the napkin in your pocket, you looked him in the eye, "Don't talk like that! But yeah, I'll try to remember to clean out my pockets before doing laundry."

He smiled and took a sip of his drink. "Oh, this is really good."

You grinned, "I know, right? I told you!"

He looked at you and smiled, "I can't wait to taste you."

"Pardon?" You coughed out.

"I MEAN, I can't wait to taste what other drinks you can make. Jeez."

You narrowed your eyes at him and smirked. "No, no. I heard what you said."

"No you didn't." He tried convincing you ... and himself.

"See you tomorrow," you looked at the napkin, "Kafka?"

"See you tomorrow," he looked at the receipt, "sweetheart."

@supersecretsaga @katkusuo @kazutora-kurokawa

@arlerts-angel @darkstarlight82 @bakubunny

@trevengersprincess @reiners-milkbiddies @viburnt

@southside-otaku

36 notes · View notes

carawenfiction · 1 year

Note

Will we have an update soon?

Tumblr won't let me make normal posts for some reason, so the update will have to be in form of an answer to this ask smh. Anyway:

Hey everyone!

This post is long overdue, I know. I’m really sorry to those who have been worried about my wellbeing, as well as those who have been waiting around for an update for so long.

I’ve put off writing here because this “update” is something I’ve been wrestling with for a long time. But I can’t keep going back and forth on it forever, which is why I’m now letting you all know that the Shadow Society is officially discontinued.

I know that this might not come as much of a surprise to anyone at this point. I’ve tried to salvage the story by remaking it into something I’m happy with through a rewrite. But I’ve rewritten the rewrite itself more than once, and no matter what I do, I’m just not happy with the result. Rewriting something that’s already published with all the coding it involves is a lot more tricky than I initially thought it would be.

This is not a case of me being needlessly harsh on myself, however; it’s simply a truth I’ve come to realize after struggling to find a way to keep going with the story. I’ll never be fully content with it, or even content enough, unless I’d be able to completely remake and rewrite everything from scratch – and consequentially, I will never find enough motivation to continue because of how unhappy I am with it.

I’ve seen some speculation about my reason for rewriting the story and my long absence, and that they’ve had to do with comparisons to other IFs (well, you know which one). This isn’t entirely the case. While the comparisons did happen and probably still do, and while they were discouraging in the beginning, I can definitely understand where people have been coming from when making them. I talked about this more in-depth in the forums right after the release of TSS.

The main reason for why I can’t continue is that it’s not a series I feel passionate enough about to work on. My tastes have changed, and so has my writing to some degree. I’ve tried to convince myself that I am passionate about it. It’s hard to admit that you’re not when it’s been in your head for so long, when you’ve tried for so long to make this work and when you know that one part is published and that some people are anticipating a continuation. But it had to be done sooner or later.

Other reasons:

-While I don’t think that my writing style has changed drastically, I feel like it is somewhat different from how I wrote back in 2018 (which is a GOOD thing). Whenever I tried working on the rewrite or second book and attempted to emulate the writing of TSS, it just didn’t sound right anymore, and that took a lot of fun out of it.

-With everything that has happened with CoG over the past few years, they are no longer a company I want to write for.

Please know that none of this has discouraged me from writing in general. I still love doing it. If anything, this has taught me a lot about what I actually want to write and the writing process in general. Whether I end up publishing anything else in the future or will simply do so for my own enjoyment we’ll just have to see, though.

I still have the idea of a shadow-like world in my head, and maybe it’s one I will revisit at some point. Maybe there will be another version of TSS someday, albeit very different from the original one.

But for now, I can only thank you all for the overwhelming love and support over the years, and apologize for any disappointment this has caused. If people are interested, I’d be happy to share parts of the rewrite and unused ideas. The Tumblr page will still stay up at least for some time, but I will probably not be answering any asks from here on out.

EDIT: Forgot to add, but if anyone wants a genuinely amazing IF read you should check out my friend's wip here: https://uroboros-if.tumblr.com/ ❤️ Play the demo here: https://mistyriousness.itch.io/uroboros

#the shadow society #tss #carawenfiction #interactive fiction

208 notes · View notes

saintsenara · 11 months

Text

rare pair tag game

thanks for the tag, @said-snape-softly :)

i'm pretty sure everyone has done this by now, but if you'd like to, please consider this a blanket tag.

apart from all the tomarry and the odd dabble in remadora, i am a rare-pair enthusiast, so i am delighted to spread some propaganda here... the criterion i've used for a rare-pair is less than 2500 works on ao3.

pairs, little metas, fic recommendations, and some suggestions for authors to follow under the cut.

sirius black/severus snape

why i ship it:

this one can just about claim to be a rare-pair.

sirius and severus are narrative mirrors, whose complicated relationship to themselves and to each other is crucial for driving several of the most important arcs in the series.

in particular, sirius - constantly haunted by guilt and grief over his role in the death of the man he loved [you can decide if his love for james is platonic or not, but i definitely think the text thinks it isn't...], trapped in his childhood home, unable to have his real loyalties acknowledged before his death by the fact he's on the run - leads harry through his journey in hero-worshipping, then being disappointed in, then forgiving james. and then promptly dies.

this is one of harry's most significant areas of personal growth - it begins to chip away at his rather black-and-white morality, which is finally destroyed by his ability to confront the complexity of dumbledore in deathly hallows - but it is also key narratively: harry coming to understand james starts to hint to the reader that it is lily - otherwise absent from her son's conception of himself - who is the key to the mystery...

which brings us to severus - constantly haunted by guilt and grief over his role in the death of the woman he loved, trapped in his childhood home, unable to have his real loyalties acknowledged before his death by the fact he's a spy - who gives harry, and us, the final piece of the puzzle. and then promptly dies.

put them together, though? well, you get the delicious tension of two fundamentally broken people - who cannot comprehend the possibility of their own redemption - bound to each other. can they forgive each other and themselves? is it a disaster? the story can go either way.

and even in fluff there is so much potential for d r a m a between sirius' recklessness and severus' cunning, sirius' emotional control and severus' temper, the fact that sirius is canonically hot and severus is canonically not, how they react to harry and draco [i don't usually accept the fanon that severus is his godfather, except when it means snack can be fighting about it], and so on.

and i'm a sucker for two bitter old men getting a happy ending. sue me.

want to give it a read?

if you trust nothing else i say in my life [and why should you] you can trust this - second life by nwhiker and cassandra7 is one of the greatest pieces of writing i have ever seen, not only in this pairing but in this fandom full stop. it's a profound and solemn meditation on loving and grieving, choice and chance, and the great pain caused by the divide between the magical and the muggle worlds.

then, for gorgeous angst with a happy ending - two boys kissing by @writcraft and the merit in trying by brightened

albus dumbledore/tom riddle | voldemort

why i ship it:

the facetious answer is because they wouldn't be so obsessed with each other if there wasn't some sexual tension underneath it.

the facetious and nsfw answer is because it appeals to the part of me whose favourite book aged 11 was lolita

the serious answer is that they should be horrifying together: they're both liars; both incredibly self-righteous; both living behind masks which conceal their true emotions and motivations; dumbledore took one look at tom as an eleven-year-old, said "he reminds me of gellert", and then did nothing about it; tom thinks dumbledore's a hypocrite and is right, although not for the reasons he thinks; there is a colossal age gap; there is virtually no scenario in any timeline where they could be openly in a relationship unless one of them is concealing his identity; and - really, this seems quite minor in the grand scheme of things - they are constantly trying to destroy each other.

but.

intellectually, they are the only two characters in the series who could be the other's equal - i'm sure that violent arguments about the twelve uses of dragon's blood trigger the majority of their sexual encounters, and a man who's passionate about your research is hot.

if either of them ever fancy being honest - so, no - there is a shared cavernous [although, in tom's case, unacknowledged] grief in their lives which has shaped their not-as-divergent-as-the-text-thinks-they-are views on death, love, duty and so on. their active refusal to understand each other [i.e. dumbledore entirely misreading voldemort's motivations in the job interview scene] and commitment to constantly underestimating each other [i.e. voldemort bouncing around like an idiot in the chamber of secrets instead of using his brain and remembering what a phoenix is] could, in time, lead to something almost resembling acceptance. i mean, just imagine the hurt/comfort sex which happens when voldemort finds out about grindledore.

the way dumbledore describes the young riddle - "self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless" - is also an exact description of him. that each sees himself in the other canonically drives their hatred of each other, but it could also appeal to two very vain men in a much racier way. after all, who doesn't want to bang their narrative mirror?

and being an orphan probably doesn't seem so bad when you realise your boyfriend's family is aberforth.

want to give it a read?

i can't recommend concordance by @laeveteinn enough, particularly for one of the best-written dumbledores i've ever seen. i find dumbledore is often written either as far more whimsical than i'd like, or far more fiery and radical [when one of his most interesting personality traits in canon is his tendency towards inaction], but this dumbledore is the perfect balance of contradictions, while tom is his canonical feral self, longing to perceived, rather than the emotionless sociopath of so many other stories.

i also recommend as an entire ocean in a drop by eldritcher, which really leans into just how similar these two are underneath all the artifice.

albus dumbledore/severus snape

why i ship it:

well, we've had dumbledore with one lost boy, let's have him with another [i haven't been brave enough to venture into dumbledore/harry yet, but i'll take recommendations...]

as with riddledore, we have the potential for horror here: a vast power imbalance; enormous age gap; the fact dumbledore sends snape out to potentially die every time he goes off to voldemort; and - this is the crucial one - the fact that dumbledore's recognition of himself in snape is pure self-loathing ["you disgust me"] manifested in punishment [allowing snape to be humiliated in front of fudge, not stopping the presumed-to-be-real moody searching his office, making him give harry occlumency lessons, not letting him teach defence against the dark arts].

but then this stops, when snape does the tremendously brave thing of agreeing to kill dumbledore, and their dynamic equalises, as dumbledore recognises that snape is courageous, steadfast, and redeemed. i'm always struck in half-blood prince by the fact that dumbledore has it with harry's sniping about snape and straight-up tells him to shut up, as well as by the fact that he very nearly gives the game away and confesses why snape switched sides [the thing he promised not to do] when harry finds out it was snape who gave voldemort the prophecy.

and within this equalised dynamic - so this hot geriatric sex is happening in the afterlife, i guess - we have two men who are intellectual close-to-equals, who understand grief and guilt, whose aesthetic senses are charmingly mismatched, who are rarely honest but might be for each other, and who have lots of profound similarities which might lead somewhere...

want to give it a read?

cheerfully disregarding everything i've just said about how snumbledore could work, i highly recommend in infinite remorse of soul by @perverse-idyll, which is a chilling look at how dumbledore uses the power imbalance between the two to assuage his own guilt through snape's humiliation.

for something much more wholesome, i'm a big fan of byzantium by eldritcher

petunia dursley/severus snape

why i ship it:

because vernon is a dick.

i'm fond of petunia, who i think is one of the most interesting characters in the series because of how full of contradictions she is, and who i think is also a victim in fandom spaces of how the adult cast was aged up for the films [in canon, she's only in her early twenties when lily dies, and the implication is that vernon is a good deal older than her)] which makes her inadequacies, such as her inability to truly care for either child in the household, seem much more nuanced than they do if she's pictured as a middle-aged woman with considerable life experience.

like snape, she teeters on a knife edge between various chasms: she is a working-class girl from the midlands made good in middle-class surrey, he is a working-class half-blood boy who spends most of his life in pureblood circles; she ends up with her whole life wrapped up in a square little house when she's barely out of her teens, he ends up with his whole life wrapped up in spying at the same age; she hates the wizarding world and yet covets it, he hates the muggle world and yet cannot escape it; she loves lily and she hates her and she loathes her for dying, he... well, you know the rest.

want to give it a read?

i was first convinced by this pairing by the lovely regretfully yours by @maria-de-salinas, which takes both snape and petunia's awkwardness and bitterness and moulds it into something really tender.

i also highly recommend barking at the moon by rinsbane, the summary of which speaks for itself.

merope gaunt/tom riddle sr.

why i ship it:

our first canon pairing, and probably the most problematic of the canon relationships, since the series never acknowledges that tom sr. is a rape victim.

but i have found myself recently in my merope era and, in particular, in an attempt to give her more nuance than she gets in canon. as i've said to anyone who'll listen in the three broomsticks discord server, i loathe the implication in canon that merope dies because she just cba to live [since it directly justifies voldemort's belief that her death was shameful] and prefer to see her as someone who was desperate to escape a truly horrifying life [the fact she's going to be forced into an incestuous relationship with morfin is right there in canon...] and so did something she didn't have the capacity to understand the implications of [this is not a woman who's ever heard of consent] because she thought it would give her the first chance to be happy in her life, watched it all crash and burn around her, and would have very much liked to have lived to raise her son.

i doubt there was anything real or tender in her relationship with tom sr., of course, and his escape - while merely a brief stay of execution from his son's perspective - is tremendously brave. it's impossible to write tom/merope fluff [although i respect you if you're inclined to try] but fanfiction gives a space to explore the intricacies of their relationship which canon doesn't allow, and i'm obsessed.

want to give it a read?

i'm recommending myself here, and assuring you that you will enjoy: enchanter's nightshade, which explores how merope's attempts to keep her husband enslaved fail; the snow child, which treats the relationship as folk-horror; and the shack at the end of the lane, in which there is redemption, in the end.

the best exploration of tom sr. dealing with the fallout of the relationship is @phantomato's exquisite ganymede, which feels so truly embodied that you can't pull yourself away from the page.

bellatrix lestrange/tom riddle | voldemort

why i ship it:

our second canon pairing, i am obsessed with these two and the tragedy and - to some extent - tenderness bound up in their relationship [which can be proven to be there because noted softy @whinlatter loves them].

i've written before about my conviction - in contrast to a lot of bellatrix fans - that her relationship with rodolphus is utterly miserable, and that voldemort is the only man in her life who can understand her desire to make a life for herself which is not constrained by the gendered expectations of her social class.

obviously, lord voldemort is not a shining paragon of a boyfriend [and he is an awful choice as a baby daddy, bella, get it together], but i think the enormous power imbalance is perhaps slightly less enormous than is sometimes assumed - certainly, she tells him to his face in half-blood prince that he's wrong to trust snape [she's a clever woman], voldemort never physically punishes her for anything [rip to lucius malfoy, who seems to get picked for this in her stead], and voldemort tolerates a surprising amount of nonsense from her which shatters his mystique.

all of which is to say... the scream when she dies isn't just because he's losing the war.

want to give it a read?

tee hee, i'm recommending myself again, and encouraging you to take a look at: atramentum, bellamort's last afternoon together before voldemort goes to the potters; nor all that glisters gold, bellatrix's life - including her relationship with voldemort - through sirius' eyes; and death (eaters) in paradise, because murderous psychopaths deserve crack fics too.

draco malfoy/tom riddle | voldemort

why i ship it:

because the ship name is taco.

these two are a pairing which i enjoy with my tongue firmly in my cheek [and tom's tongue firmly in draco's], as i do with most other things in which draco is a main character [do i want to read drarry angst? no! do i want to chuckle? absolutely!], although this should not be taken as saying that many of taco's fabulous authors don't manage to make the pairing entirely plausible.

in fact, consensual taco [non-con is, of course, its own beast] often has some of the best characterisation of both tom [fretful, mercurial, stubborn, and nowhere near as charming as he thinks he is] and draco [prissy, a very good judge of character, someone who likes being taken care of, and much braver than he appears if he absolutely has to be] i've seen in the fandom, largely because - unlike other voldemort-centric ships [especially tomarry, but also voldemort + any of the adult death eaters] - there's no sense of inevitability there. these two aren't connected by a shared bit of soul, or a prophecy, or having gone to school together, or having been hooked in by voldemort in the first war when he was unassailable.

they have to choose each other. or, more accurately, draco has to choose tom, and tom has to get chosen.

and the results have me entertained.

want to give it a read?

then you will want to have a look at the travelling cabinet by @the-paper-monkey [and its sequel, bluebeard], truly the gold standard of taco content with an absolutely brilliant draco, whose sheer capacity to cling on and make himself an irremovable part of tom's life may just end up changing the course of history.

narcissa malfoy/severus snape

why i ship it:

because i am in deep with the conspiracy theory that it's canon. i am absolutely certain that narcissa is the person that voldemort is referring to at the end of deathly hallows - "he desired her, that was all, but when she had gone, he agreed that there were other women, and of purer blood, worthier of him". it seems highly unlikely to me that the canonical voldemort would give a shit about snape fancying any random pureblood [although the snapemort version is, naturally, hugely jealous], but snape having had some sort of liaison with narcissa, and the ability knowing this gives voldemort to humiliate snape, narcissa, the memory of lily, bellatrix, lucius, and draco is definitely information he would go out of his way to remember...

plus, how do you know where he lives, babe? v suspicious.

want to give it a read?

if you want some fluff, you will very much enjoy the incredibly sweet the reformed man by gingertart50, which features narcissa nursing snape back to health post-nagini and is a favourite re-read for me when i'm drunk and it's christmas.

if you want some very-much-not-fluff, other women and of purer blood by yours truly will scratch the itch...

minerva mcgonagall/severus snape

why i ship it:

because i'm an equal-opportunity age-gap fan, and there is far too little older woman/younger man in the fandom.

and look, i'll admit it, i'm a fan of the fanon that snape and mcgonagall are friends prior to dumbledore's death - i'm not sure it's canonically plausible, but this sign can't stop me because i can't read - and i like the idea of that blossoming into something more, especially in fics where snape survives the second war. after all, he is a man who definitely needs to be treated quite strictly [and i don't just mean in the staff room], there is a shared loneliness and grief to them both, they're intellectual equals despite the age gap, and bickering about quidditch is absolutely fine as a method of foreplay.

plus, you can't tell me dumbledore's portrait doesn't ship it.

want to give it a read?

for a fic which shows minerva at her acerbic - and yet still sensual - best, always but not necessarily forever by gingertart50 is an old, fluffy, and very funny, favourite.

for something much more bittersweet, that good night by kelly_chambliss has my heart.

severus snape/tom riddle | voldemort

why i ship it:

because voldemort is canonically down bad for it - there is no need to believe snape's ridiculous cover story for not attending his resurrection, to try and spare lily as a treat for his man, and to give him a nice, painful death which allows the narrative to move on and harry to defeat him if the dark lord isn't firmly in his simp era.

more seriously, they obviously have an enormous amount in common, particularly in terms of their backgrounds [harry draws a connection between all three of them, but actually the fact that harry is rich in the wizarding world, not a slytherin, and with a muggle mother, therefore giving him a pureblood name, means he can't relate to the post-childhood experience of both halves of snapemort].

as a result, i think snape is the death eater who comes the closest to understanding voldemort's motivations - above all, the fact that he's not seeking an oligarchy, which the malfoys etc. obviously believe - while voldemort is someone snape feels understands his intellectual interests and his creativity.

want to give it a read?

boy, are you in luck, because i myself have a snapemort wip - scylla and charybdis. it is not wholesome.

tom riddle/myrtle warren

why i ship it:

because it started as crack and now i love them.

in particular, i just have so much respect for being incredibly annoying as a method of seduction, and i think myrtle's commitment to just following tom around chattering at him - and, therefore, without her realising it, preventing him from committing all sorts of crimes - is iconic.

want to give it a read?

then my unhinged rom-com - bookbinding - shall provide.

tom riddle | voldemort/ginny weasley

why i ship it:

because i enjoy seeing my dear friends who ship hinny shake and cry.

but also because ginny and tom have an enormous number of similarities, right down to the fact that they both have yew wands [if you're sick of people saying harry has an oedipus complex, you'll be delighted to be confronted with the mountain of evidence ginny reminds him of the villain who keeps trying to kill him instead].

they are both very good liars, quick thinking, remarkably resistant to shame, possessed of nerves of steel, predisposed to violence, brown-eyed, so hot they have harry gagged, and the profound enemy of someone whose surname is smith.

despite what he claims, tom was absolutely not just sat politely in that diary gritting his teeth while ginny complained about having second hand robes and idiot brothers. as he says, he opted "to start feeding [her] a few of my secrets", and i think it's justifiable from canon that they were at the very least half-truths [for example, i would not be shocked to discover he tells her he's a half-blood orphan brought up against his will in the muggle world - there's no other reason, i think, for him to successfully make her tell him these things about harry without it], which means that ginny has lots of lovely emotional leverage over him.

plus, as with tomarry, you have the element of "this is kind of inevitable" in the relationship, and the mysteries of fate are always sexy.

want to give it a read?

this is a tommary/hinny/tominny triad, but it has had me in a chokehold since the first time i read it - shameful company by merrivale, which, truly iconically, manages to be epilogue compliant.

#asenora fic recs #rare pair tag game #starprince #snirius #snack hp #riddledore #snumbledore #petunia dursley x severus snape #merope gaunt x tom riddle sr #bellamort #tom riddle x draco malfoy #snarcissa #minerva mcgonagall x severus snape #snapemort #tom riddle x myrtle warren #tom riddle x ginny weasley #lots to read

130 notes · View notes

lets-try-some-writing · 1 year

Note

I had to ask this bc your teacher Optimus AU has me by the throat.

How would Optimus handle students or faculty who are just plain assholes to the people around them? I can’t help but think that it would be less of a righteous fury (oh he’d definitely be angry, but not just angry) and more of a mournful pity. You are so young, so small and so few in your years, he might think. Why would you give them all to misery? Why do you choose to see only the darkness in peoples hearts when there is so much beauty left in your world?

I'm so glad you like this AU! It similarly has me in a chokehold demanding I write more XD Also love this whole thought of Optimus being so old that he can't even really be mad and just disappointed.

Previous part here.

Children, All of Them

As a general rule Optimus greatly enjoyed his job as a teacher. It was a welcome relief from the weight of war and the burden of his position as Prime. It brought back old memories of better times when he was just the Head Archivist working cycle in and cycle out to teach and to catalogue. Being able to share the joys of his passion and the history of his people was something he found no end of happiness participating in. It certainly helped that many of his students and co-workers were wonderful people either just trying to get by or working hard because of their love for learning or teaching.

However not every student and faculty member Optimus worked with was a ray of sunshine.

He was well aware of the fact that he would likely have less than pleasant individuals around him at times. As such he had long prepared himself to handle aggression in the way that such feelings normally presented themselves on Cybertron. He was fully prepared to endure unsettling EM fields, threatening messages, non-verbal insults, quiet battles of wit, subtle touches that were intended to be painful, and much much more. On Cybertron aggression among the more civil members of society was always a near silent affair and never made explicitly public. It was always a dangerous game played between the involved parties and no others, at least if one knew the rules of high society.

Optimus was ready, that is until he came to the rather saddening realization that these humans, these infants in his mind were far less reasonable in expressing their distaste.

Every student and co-worker of his had bad days, it was to be expected and he always did what he could to help them. If a fellow teacher was stressed with work, he would take some of it from them and help them get things in order. If cleaning staff were stuck with too much to do and feeling disheartened, Optimus would remain behind long after hours to assist and bring out some snacks for them to thank them for their efforts. Almost the entirety of his paycheck went straight back into gifts for his fellow teachers and his students. He just wanted them all to be as happy as possible as they worked. Teaching and study should be fun, not a struggle just to endure.

His efforts usually solved the problem fairly quickly, however there were a few individuals who just refused to be reasonable.

The vice principle was a piece of work and reminded Optimus far more of a youngling just getting a taste of power for the first time. The man was strict, demanding, and made it his life's mission to try and find a way to force Optimus to teach traditionally even if it was less effective. For whatever reason he despised the way Optimus taught and the level of sympathy he showed to his student. Optimus of course held a degree of understanding, but was also left confused as to why. What was so wrong about children enjoying his teaching that it would cause the vice principle to dislike him so much?

His efforts to reach out to the vice principle and try to smooth out any misunderstandings only ended with threats of being fired. Optimus was not unaccustomed to people abusing their power, and so he let the situation be and instead focused on his students. However as the vice principle kept on digging further and further, trying hard to find a reason to get Optimus fired, the time for remaining inactive ended.

Thus one day he stepped out with the vice principle and went with the man to his office to talk. The vice principle was so very smug when he sat down thinking that Optimus intended to concede and give up his way of teaching. However instead Optimus pulled out an old datapad he had resized and styled and pulled up images of earth in all its beauty. Many of the pictures were of children laughing and playing, learning, growing, and overall enjoying life. The vice principle didn't understand and was prepared to lash out when Optimus allowed a hint of his nature to shine through his holoform. EM fields could not be sensed by humans the same way they were by Cybertronians, but the waves carried emotion and tone well enough to be vaguely felt.

Optimus: Why do you struggle so bitterly against my teaching methods?

Vice Principle: Its against protocol and makes the students more unruly! They need discipline and control, not fun and games!

Optimus: Children are just that, children. They are unburdened by the woes that come from age. They are pure and see the world in such an innocent way. They will lose that gift as they age, yet you wish to strip it from them sooner?

Vice Principle: What are you on about?

Optimus: Children are a gift, a glorious one that must be protected and tended to with utmost care. While yes, children do need a firm guiding hand to ease them along the path of life, they deserve the chance to enjoy their freedom while they have it.

Vice Principle: This is school! Not a playground! It is not a place to goof around, it is a place of learning!

Optimus: Yes, it is a place of learning, thus it should be adjusted to suit the children should it not? It is the greatest honor and burden one can bear to have the chance to mold the minds of the youth. They are our future, and having them live without joy will only induce a cycle of depression that will continue onward with them.

Vice Principle: I'm your superior! Just do your job and stop making a mess of things!

Optimus: Why is it that you dislike seeing the children joyful? Are you fearful that you will no longer be respected if they are not treated like young soldiers? Respect is something that is earned and gained through trial and action, not mere titles.

Vice Principle: This is slander!

Optimus: Is it? Your lives are so very short. Your world is beautiful and unmarred by the ravages of a war greater than you could ever understand. Appreciate the little joys in this life young one. It will not last, and neither will you.

Vice Principle: GET OUT!

Optimus got nowhere with the vice principle and he couldn't even bring himself to be truly angry at the man. He was youthful, drunk on power, and desperate to have as much control as possible. He was a product of the broken system of education he tried so hard to enforce. He was just like the delusional mecha that lorded over Cybertron, thinking themselves greater than all others purely because of their titles.

It was disappointing, but there was little Optimus could do if even his presence as a Prime did nothing to sway the man. More than anything else, he felt pity for the man. He was just a sad human who had not the years to know his actions nor the wisdom to be able to observe and see as Optimus did. A broken child lost in a broken system that he had never escaped from.

How very disheartening.

Of course the issues were not just with the vice principle. There was one other human who simply could not be consoled or convinced to behave, that being the boy who called himself Vince. He was a cocky, overclocked, and overconfident young man who had no issues flaunting his possessions and skillset even when it was the wrong time. He was exactly like the nobles back on Cybertron, and that brought a sickening sense to Optimus's mind at the thought of the boy turning out just like the cruel nobles that doomed his homeworld. He did not want to watch this infant race doom themselves through the same methods his people had.

They were still so young, so innocent, and lived lives far too short to be wasted on such foolish things. It hurt his spark and made him angry in a more disappointed way than anything else when he watched Vince harass his classmates and flaunt despite performing poorly outside of his motor skills. He was not fond of the child's seeming obsession with going after Jack who was one of most successful students. There was no reason for the behavior other than the fact that Jack showed an interest in getting a vehicle while Vince already had one. There also appeared to be an underlying conflict over courtship for a young female, but to Optimus it was ridiculous. The children were far too young for that. The behavior needed to be cut at the bud before it could grow into something like the vice principle.

Thus he took the boy aside after school one day and sat him down. Vince of course offered no respect whatsoever and only served to make Optimus sigh. So young, so foolish, and so very arrogant. The boy needed a wakeup call before things got worse for him later down the road.

Optimus: Vince, do you know why I pulled you aside?

Vince: No, but its probably for something stupid.

Optimus: You've been treating everyone around you poorly. Don't think I haven't noticed.

Vince: So what? They're all losers anyway!

Optimus: That is not a good way to view your peers child. They are all gifted in their own ways, just as you are.

Vince: Of course I'm gifted! I'm one of the best racers in Jasper! Those nobodies can't stand a chance against me!

Optimus: You put so much pride into you ability to race. Why is that? Do you fear being unable to succeed elsewhere? Or is it perhaps a false sense of entitlement?

Vince: What do you know old timer? You look like you walked off a movie set from world war 2! I bet you can't even drive more than twenty miles per hour without putting your hazard lights on!

Optimus: You are so very arrogant. Do you not realize just how harmful this mindset is?

Vince: Whatever old man!

Optimus: ...

Optimus: If that is how you wish to behave, then I will not stand for it. If you want respect, you must earn it. Get your car, I will prove to you that your pride is misplaced.

Vince: What? Are you serious?

Optimus: I am completely serious. Meet me out at the tracks and I will make my point.

Vince was shocked, but Optimus paid it no mind. Vince was a child that would only learn through force, and Optimus was not afraid to use it. Thus he absorbed his holoform and moved his real frame out. The team were bewildered to the point of Bumblebee tagging along just to see what was going on and report back. Not a spark expected half the school to be out at the tracks with Vince waiting with his sports car.

Optimus had his holoform step out and Vince gave him a look that screamed of confidence. He was so very sure he could beat Optimus with his vehicle, but Optimus merely shook his held and got into his vehicle as a student readied an airhorn to signal the start of the race. Bumblebee watched from his own holoform in confusion but also a bit of awe as Optimus obliterated Vince without even trying. The boy was left defeated and bitter to the point of marching off before Optimus could get a word in.

The legend of Mr. Pax grew and he was given a fine for misconduct, but beyond that Vince continued to be rude to all his classmates. However surprisingly he left Optimus alone and stopped what he was doing whenever Optimus came near. It wasn't much, and honestly it didn't fix much, but it was improvement to a degree.

The humans were so young, yet so bitter. They were so hopeful, yet so prideful. They were the embodiment of younglings just getting their pedes under themselves.

Children, all of them.

#maccadam #transformers #transformers prime #optimus prime #tfp kids #teacher au #Optimus wanted to make a point and instead got himself more kids tailing him after school #every time he does anything he becomes more of a cryptid #humans are children literally all of them #Optimus will believe nothing else

221 notes · View notes

justsomemusingsandthoughts · 4 days

Text

Now about season 3 of Bridgerton....some thought from a Greys Anatomy fan of the first hour cause I need to get it off my chest :)

I was really excited to see Polins story unfold even though I didn't watch Bridgerton before or read the books but I was swept up by the excitement on tiktok and got invested in their story.

But as soon as I heard Shona was involved I was like okayyyyyy, I gotta keep my expectations in check cause the women is not one to write healthy and lasting relationships and reasonable men who communicate well😬

Looking at how the season played out, I completely understand why so many people are disappointed cause there was so much potential wasted, so many scenes that could have made clear to the viewer what was going on in Colins head. I think I filled in the gaps in my mind but there are still some moments, some things he said and did that were almost character destroying, specially the comment about the entrapment, cause dude, she didn't even know what sex was🙄 Also, not even trying to have a converation with her about why LW started and has such significance to her was not sth Colin would do.

And that's the crux of why I think for many die hard fans, the season was a let down. They didn't show any true discussions or enough moments of passion alongside the argument cause in truth, there was no time with all the unnecessary side plots and so few episodes. If you saw the season you know, I won't list them all but I will say they better put a proper Polin side story and spicy scene in Ben's season cause the amount of pointless threesomes I had to skip through is almost offensive, especially cause it should be clear people want intimate scenes of the main couple😮‍💨

But looking at all of it considering this show is part of Shondaland, I am not the least bit surprised. The number of downright character assasinations I watched on Grey's (and other shows of hers) after over a decade watching the development of some of them is kinda ridiculous. The number of ruined relationships and the horrible ways most of them were ruined (I almost cannot believe I'm saying this now but thank god they killed off Derek before completely undoing who he actually was and what Meredith meant to him😭).

Untimately, Shonda loves the drama and the angst and very clearly doesn't think there is much entertainment value in showing happy couples resolving their issues in a healthy way. If you watch a project she's involved in, you gotta be prepared for the couple to not make it and in that way, Bridgerton fans are rather lucky considering no matter how the seasons play out, it's gonna end with a happy couple that's not gonna split up again.

She also was never gonna just take books and keep to the narrative cause I don't believe that would be any fun to her. Especially this season, since she has said that Pen is her favorite character. I was immediately thinking Colin will be taking a back seat and have moments viewers will hate him for to have Pen in the forefront individually.

I guess I'm gonna take away and rewatch the beautiful moments, even some of the angsty ones and wait for what little side plots Polin will have in future seasons. I don't believe I will watch the entirety of future seasons cause I'm not interested to be disappointed by Shonda Rhimes' story telling anymore. Been there done that😂

But my little obsession with Polin was still worth it cause they're just an amazing fictional couple and I might just read their book now☺️

And I have definitely found a new actress to follow along for her future roles cause Nicola is just amazing as an actress and as a person🥰

(Also find it deeply offensive to make an audience wait for 2 years (!!!) for 8 episodes but that's for another day😅)

#bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #polin #shondaland #shonda rhimes #unimportant rant #musings #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #penelope bridgerton #rant #greys anatomy #lady whistledown

22 notes · View notes

mayiwritesomething · 2 months

Text

Love is an Unfamiliar Name (Pt. 7)

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Wordcount: 2,1 k

Warnings: friends talking about sex, basically an allusion, no big deal.

A/N: In this slightly longer (and quite sad) chapter we have a Pedro who is a bit... let's say a jerk . but along the we will understand why this kind of behavior is happening, I swear haha

PART SIX

——————

Fear (Of the Unknown)

"Neeeeext," Jenny demanded, munching on a bag of Takis while perched on the couch. "I want all the juicy details, girl." You finally met the girls at Jenny’s room on Sunday night after spending the whole day at Pedro’s.

"Well, we have to give the guy credit," Amy chimed in, reclining at the end of Jenny's bed. "I can't even remember the last time you had a sleepover with a man. He must've really impressed you to change your mind."

"Hey, it's not like we were going at it like rabbits," you chuckled, the memory still fresh in your mind. "We talked a lot too. It just felt like any other day, you know? Even during sex, we found our rhythm quickly."

"Have you noticed how radiant her skin looks?" Amy observed, peering at you with curiosity as you sat in the middle of the bed.

"Fuck, you're glowing!" Jenny exclaimed in surprise. "We'll have to find out what his secret is." You simply laughed it off.

"He really paid attention to what I wanted, always checking if I was comfortable," you admitted shyly. "But he could also be quite dominant. And like I said, we had some deep conversations in between... activities," you finished with a silly grin.

"My friend, I have some news for you," Amy interjected with a laugh. "It's a good thing that you finally let yourself date someone you've known for a while, it is way better than with some random shit—and you’re going to have to swallow your pride and admit that this guy was good. You probably didn’t let him know, but he got you on your knees.”

"He got me at least three or four times that I can remember," you chuckled.

"Come on!" Jenny playfully tossed a Taki at you.

"I'd pay to see that," Amy teased. "YOU," she pointed at you, bursting into song, "Just like a prayer, you know I'll take you there." She laughed.

"It was definitely a great point of view; I can't deny that." You smiled, feeling a shiver of excitement run down your spine.

"Amy, look at her. SHE IS FUCKING SMILING," Jenny pointed out, munching on her Takis.

"And to think he was so nervous about approaching her," Amy added, causing both you and Jenny to look at her in shock. She realized her mistake.

"WHAT?!" You and Jenny exclaimed simultaneously, eager for more information. Amy tried to backtrack, claiming it was obvious, but you pressed her for details.

"Please don't tell Timmy I told you this," Amy pleaded, disappointed in herself. "Remember that night you were feeling down, and he joined you on the patio? You two spent the night together. He was feeling confused and guilty for maybe mixing things up, so he confided in Timmy."

"And why are you telling this now, Amy?" You snapped, a hint of irritation in your voice. "I could've been having this great sex all this time. Single people also deserve happiness, you know," you added sarcasticly.

"Timmy only told me at the pub! before we went to check on you," Amy explained. "I was mad at him too, ok? But he told him that you're not someone to mess with. If he screws up and you decide to leave, you'll walk away just like you did before." Tim knew you; he had seen you broken before.

"Well… that explains a lot," you mused, recalling your conversations from the previous night when he decided to explain himself.

—

You jetted off to LA for a few days as planned, but true to your workaholic nature, you managed to squeeze in a business meeting during your vacation. After years of toiling on scores and earning some awards such as an Academy and a Golden Globe, you now have the luxury of being selective with your projects. The upcoming project was one you couldn't afford to pass up.

Your conversations with Pedro continued as usual, but as you boarded your flight on Monday, a nagging fear crept in—would he suddenly disappear? You didn't want that to happen; the memory of your past involvement with someone you had a prior connection to still haunted you.

Despite your reservations, you decided to give it a chance. Spending a long night with people you had no attachment to was much easier, you understood why the girls were excited to see you with someone you shared a connection with. And from your conversations with him, you learned that his friends felt the same.

A lingering question plagued your mind: Two different people, same traumas. Could it possibly work?

You pushed that thought aside, refusing to indulge in self-sabotage this time. You were enjoying yourself and didn't want to ruin a good thing. Upon returning to Canada, you and Pedro found yourselves in a rather funny situation—sneaking into each other's rooms like teenagers trying to evade their parents' watchful eyes.

Both of you excelled at maintaining a professional demeanor during the day, and no one would suspect that you were secretly meeting in the middle of the night. You were admired for your serious demeanor, while Pedro's easygoing nature was already known. Despite your differences, you both managed to keep your clandestine rendezvous under wraps, maintaining the facade of being nothing more than good friends.

In the past few months, you have been seeing each other at least once a week, a frequency that felt just right for you. With both of you thriving in your careers, it was important not to let things spiral out of control. So, when Pedro broached the topic of aligning your schedules to spend more time together, you felt a sense of relief. It was evident that he was trying to downplay his excitement about seeing you more often, but you welcomed the conversation, knowing it was a discussion you had also been considering.

You made sure to let him know that after the post-production phase, you would go on tour with Mended Fragments, so it would be harder to meet during these months, but with the tour ending, you would have a break, which he acknowledged and agreed, considering he had his own projects.

—

As usual, you meticulously planned the agenda for the following two weeks, which included a trip to New York to produce a quick soundtrack for a runway show while assisting your team via Zoom. Additionally, you had been invited to the show’s after-party, where Jenny would accompany you, presenting an excellent opportunity for networking and reconnecting with familiar faces, so you had a good feeling about it. During a post sex conversation, you discovered that Pedro would also be attending the same event.

"She's a good friend I made during my time in New York, so I'll finally have some free time to catch up with her. Oscar is also attending," Pedro mentioned, his gaze fixed on you as you both layed on the bed.

"Wow, I had no idea you knew her. Vivienne sounds like a lovely person," you replied. "She was blown away by Rick's show in Paris last season, so she reached out to him to know who the composer was, and that's how we met—even though you didn't ask," you added playfully, planting a kiss on his shoulder.

"I would ask, but you're quite quick, baby," he said, his demeanor distant as if his mind were elsewhere, which made you feel quite bothered.

"Is everything okay?" you asked softly, pulling away from his embrace to look him in the eyes.

"Yeah, it is; you just wore me out a bit, that's all," he replied, though you sensed he was not being entirely truthful. Or perhaps it was just your own mind playing tricks on you. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, you decided to let it go, so you kept talking.

"It'll be nice to see you there without anyone from work around," you said without hiding your smile. "I mean, being able to talk to you without having to sneak around like thieves." Your excitement was palpable.

"Well, baby...” Your smile faded, his tone felt weird. “I think it's best if we keep things as they are now. It's not like we have anything serious going on to show up at a party as a couple," he said, getting up to get dressed. His words stung like daggers, piercing through your skin. "It's almost 7 a.m. I should head back to my room."

"I never said anything about us being a couple, Pedro," you retorted, your tone sharp with frustration. "I simply mentioned meeting you at a party you were already planning to attend. I'm not suggesting anything." You were hurt by his sudden change in behavior.

"Okay. I just don't want us to misunderstand things," he said, noticing the glint of tears in your eyes. "I really enjoy what we have, baby, but it's more of a close friendship with benefits, isn't it?"

You couldn't understand why he was bringing this up out of nowhere. Perhaps it was the tequila you both had indulged in due to exhaustion. While you tried to make sense of his actions, you refused to throw a fit at that moment. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you beg for his affection.

"If that's how you see it," you replied curtly, masking your hurt with sarcasm. "I must have misunderstood, but thank you for clarifying. I guess I'll see you at the party then. I'll be leaving on Monday."

"I thought you were supposed to leave on Wednesday," he remarked, surprised. "So, I won't get to see you?" Closing the distance between you, he attempted to embrace you, now fully dressed, while you stood by the bed, wrapped in a blanket.

"No," you answered firmly.

"I'm going to miss this body," he said, adjusting your hair, his breath tinged with the scent of alcohol. You held back tears, refusing to let them fall.

"Is the body all you'll miss?" you asked, trying to maintain a facade of strength.

"Is there anything else to miss?" he replied, deliberately cruel. It felt as though he wanted to see you break down in tears, solely because of him. He wouldn’t let you win this argument.

"Leave,” you were about to break. “Go have a shower and eat something, you’re fuckin drunk.” Your voice was trembling. You were also quite dizzy.

His gaze lingered on you, taken aback by your response. It wasn’t the plea for attention he anticipated. Why hadn’t you begged for his affection? Though he wanted to express his regret and admit he'd miss you, he needed validation from you. It was then that he realized he had screwed things up. You held the door open, silently urging him to depart. As he reluctantly exited your room, he reached out, attempting to grasp your hand.

"Please, just go," you stated firmly, unwavering in your resolve. And so, he left. Without a word.

Two hours later, after shedding all the tears you had in you, a message from Pedro lit up your phone screen. "Sorry for what I said." You decided to ignore him, but the persistent ringing of your phone indicated that he was calling. Reluctantly, you answered. "What?"

"Babe, I'm sorry.” He started, “I shouldn't have drunk that much. I was upset about work shit that happened yesterday, and I took it out on you—It's not your fault, please,” he added. ” I was a jerk, and I'm sorry for being mean to you. I'm really sorry, baby."

"Okay, anything else?" you responded coldly.

"Baby, I'm fuckin scared—what we have... it scares me," his voice quivered, betraying his own tears. “I don’t want to fuck things up; I truly don’t—”

"Listen, I always make an effort to see things from your perspective, Pedro. I hope you can do the same for me now," You wanted to express more, but you held back. "I don't want to talk to you right now, okay? Can you respect that?"

"Babe, please..."

"Can you respect that?" you reiterated firmly.

"I can. I'm really sorry."

"Goodbye. See you at Vivienne's," you abruptly ended the call. All you wanted to do was cry. Little did you know Pedro was doing the same: crying about the cruel words he said to you. He wanted it to be just a friend with benefits kind of relationship, but deep down he knew it wasn’t, and he was scared. You both were.

“Imagine two complete strangers

Who suspect they were meant to be

Both in need of love and affection

Yet their suspicions prevent something heavenly

Fear takes control — fear of the unknown”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedrohub #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro x reader

45 notes · View notes

dreaming-about-fanfictions · 2 years

Text

Almost Forgotten Dreams (Part 2 of 2) ~ Morpheus x Reader

Summary: Another year has passed since you left Morpheus but you're feelings for him are still there. One night, you find yourself in his throne room and you realize that maybe there is a chance for your relationship after all. II angst & fluff

READ PART 1 HERE

Requested: yes Pairing: Morpheus x gender-neutral!Reader

Words: 2.3k Warnings: none

“Why don’t you – caw – just go to them, boss?” The sound of wings flapping in the air and then Matthew landed on the bench next to Morpheus. The Dream Lord sat across the street from your apartment, hands buried in his pockets.

“They don’t want to see me”, he said to his raven without looking away from your window. It was dark outside but your kitchen fully lit, the window partly open. Soft tunes drifted across the pavement and you moved slowly to them. Hips swinging, fingers tapping on your thighs as you stirred something inside a small pot.

Matthew cawed again and tilted his little head. “I think they’d be happy to see you. They look happy … all things considered.”

“They’re still hurting.” Morpheus wanted nothing more than to go over to you, knock on your door and pull you into a hug. Every cell of his body longed for your touch, your scent, the sound of your voice when his name rolled off your tongue. But you told him you needed time and he wanted to respect your wishes. Another year had passed. People might think this would feel like the blink of an eye for an Endless but without you by his side, it mirrored an eternity of loneliness. He felt your presence in the Dreaming every night, yet you didn’t call for him. Not once.

“That’s why I said all things considered”, Matthew countered.

Dream huffed and leaned back against the bench. In the kitchen, you leaned over the pot and tried that looked like a red sauce. It was too hot – you coughed and jumped in surprise. It was … cute. Morpheus smiled.

“Just go to them.” Matthew tipped his beak against Morpheus leg when he saw his reaction to your clumsiness but Morpheus smile fell and he stood up.

“They made their choice long ago.”

***

A soft “caw” made you look up from the pot. On your windowsill, outside in the dark, sat a bird. Not just any bird – a raven. You froze. Its small black eyes stared at you through the glass.

“Matthew?”, you asked softly. Could it be …? Could Dream be …?

But the raven just flapped his wings and a moment later he vanished into the night.

“Nice”, you mumbled, “talking to random birds now, do we.” However, your curiosity had been sparked. You walked over to the window and opened it. The stupid hope grew inside of you that maybe he was sitting across the street, on the bench that faced your apartment.

It was empty. Disappointed, you turned, ready to close the window when a familiar black coat caused you to gasp.

There, at the end of the street, a man in a black coat walked underneath a street light, hands buried in his pockets. Was it possible that …?

You blinked and he was gone.

“You’re going crazy”, you whispered and finally closed the window.

***

After six years, the throne room still looked the same. It towered over you, majestic in its own right, a mirror of Dream’s power.

You stood at the foot of the stairs, wearing only a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, feeling painfully underdressed. If you knew that he’d call on you, you would definitely worn something different.

He. Morpheus. The king who raised from his throne in this moment, a mixture of emotions written all over his face. Confusion, anxiety, and utter relief.

“You came.”

You let out a shuddering breath when his voice travelled down to you, so full of disbelief, full of love. “You called?”

He frowned as he came down the stairs, eyes fixated on you, as if he was scared you were just a pigment of his own imagination. A dream. “I did not.”

“What?” You didn’t understand. “How?”

“You asked for time. I would not have called on you without a sign. I merely left the doors to my palace open.” He came to halt before you and his voice was barely a whisper when he said: “You dreamed yourself here.”

Silence fell between you as you took each other in. His eyes were warm and full of admiration as he bathed in your presence. Your heart beat a thousands miles per hour in your chest and you were scared he’d actually hear it. Emotions flooded over you, your heart, drowning it in them.

After Morpheus helped you last year and your fiancé mysteriously disappeared, you needed a while to get back on your feet. A weird mixture of shock and fear from the violence that looked you in the eyes kept you awake at night. Once you started to slowly feel better, those feelings got replaced with the irritation Morpheus’ visit had left inside of you. You had been sure that you’d never see him again but then he was there for you, in your most vulnerable moment. And quickly you realized that all the feelings you had tried to bury deep inside your soul had come crashing back once he had reached for your hands in that night.

You loved him. Still. But how could you ever be with him? So instead, you spent your nights lingering in the Dreaming, looking at the palace from afar, too scared to actually step foot in it. Until tonight – apparently your unconsciousness had enough of this.

“I was scared to come here”, you admitted.

Morpheus tilted his head ever so slightly. “Why?”

“You know why.”

“Say it.” The demand was spoken softly but it was still this – a demand.

Overwhelmed, you took a step back. “Dream, I –“

“I love you still”, he interrupted you, voice dripping with hurt. “Are these the words you’re scared of?”

You woke up with a gasp.

***

It took you three nights to come to your decision. Three nights of restlessness, of thoughts running wild inside your mind. His words kept replaying inside of you. I love you still. They were devastating and yet, they made your heart flutter. You hated it. For years, you had wished to forget him. You prayed that your feelings would go away – but they didn’t.

However, you also realized that neither of you could move on as long as you wouldn’t give him a decent explanation. It was only fair and so you decided, tonight would be the night. No matter your feelings, after tonight you had a chance to finally look forward.

“Dream?” You sat by the lilac river again. Not on the bridge this time but on a small patch of grass underneath a maple tree. The air smelled like lavender and in the distance, the pair of ducks cuddled by the water.

You were certain that Morpheus had heard you. “Dream?”, you tried again. “I want to explain … please.”

“You don’t owe me an explanation.”

You flinched when he appeared behind you, a stern look on his face. He made it known that he didn’t want to be here – it stung. Morpheus came closer, sitting down beside you in the warm grass.

You shook your head. “I think, I do.”

He didn’t look at you, instead he stared at the pair of ducks across the water, lips pressed together to a sharp line. His coldness made sense to you, yet it made you hesitant.

“Were we not happy?”, he asked quietly. “Were we not in love?”

Something inside of you broke. “We were.”

“Then why did you leave?”

“I wanted a normal human life.” It wasn’t the first time you had told him this and it still felt wrong. It wasn’t the whole truth. You wanted to get to that but Morpheus spoke again:

“What does that mean for you? A family? Children? I can offer you that and so much more.” It cost him strength to say it. You could tell by the way his whole body tensed up. You hurt him. Possibly even angered him. “I would have given you everything. Dreamed everything for you. There’s nothing in this or any other universe that you don’t deserve, that I wouldn’t have created for you.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks but the bitterness caused you to look to the ground. He had told you this before, the first time you had left him. What he didn’t know was, that exactly these words captured the whole essence of your problem.

“Unless that is what you don’t want?” He looked at you now, searching for answers.

You pulled on the grass until the silence became unbearable. “How could I?”, you whispered, eyes meeting his. “How can I ever be enough for someone like you when you talk about creating universes?”

“You’re scared of not being enough?”, he scoffed as if this was really so unbelievable.

You let out a deep, shaking breath. Here we go. “What happens when one day the excitement fades and you see me for what I am?”, you asked him. “A boring, normal human with no special abilities.”

“It pains me to hear how you speak about yourself.”

“But it’s the truth, Morpheus!”, you shot back, sounding harsher than intended. “You’re Dream, you’re Oneiros, the Shaper of Forms, the God of Dreams, the King of Nightmares, an Endless. And I’m just … me.” Breathless, you stared at him. His gaze didn’t leave you for a second.

“No special abilities.” He shook his head. “Not a day, not an hour, not a minute goes by where you are not on my mind. Everything I do, I do with you in the back of my mind. You are ever present for me. The reason I haven’t gone truly insane by now is knowing that I can feel you every night when you enter my realm. You have no special abilities?” As if the river sensed its Kings anger, it began to flow faster. Waves hit the shore, warm drops of water splashing on your legs. “Nightmares haven’t touched you in over a year because they are too terrified of what would happen when I find out they came to you. Dreams stay away for that very reason. Lucienne and Matthew watch you from the library windows every night. The Dreaming comes to a halt whenever you enter it. All because you bewitched its ruler, made him fall terribly and utterly in love with you.”

In the distance, the skies darkened and the trees bowed to the sudden wind. Thunder rumbled far away. You didn’t care. Your brain had trouble keeping up, digesting what he just told you. “Is that true?”

He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed, suddenly looking very tired. When he opened them again, the river began to slow. “Have I ever lied to you?”

No, he hadn’t. And you wanted the words to be enough – but they weren’t. Tears dwelled up and you swallowed heavily, trying to chase them away. “What if your feelings change?”

“How could they? Just look at you … look at your soul.” He smiled softly. “My responsibilities are important to me and I can’t promise you to not get distracted by them from time to time. But my love for you will not change. Not today, not tomorrow, not in a thousand years. There are some things that I just know.” Morpheus sunk back and propped himself up on his elbows as he looked up to you. Without you realizing, you leaned forward.

“So many stories and they all tell us that relationships between gods and mortals are destined to fail.” There it was – the tear. You leaned in even more, your foreheads touched and you felt him sigh at the touch. Your fingers searched for his and he squeezed them tightly.

“I’m not a god, my love”, he murmured. “And even if I were, wouldn’t you want to be the one to prove the stories wrong?”

You finally give in to the desire to touch him. You let go of his hand and gently put your own to his face. His eyes fluttered shut. Gods, he was beautiful.

And he offered to be yours.

It was so tempting. It was everything you ever wanted, everything you needed. You wanted to give in, to believe him, to feel like you could be enough for him.

“Tell me how I can prove my intentions to you”, Morpheus asked as if he had heard your thoughts. “Tell me a way, any way. You have me in the palm of your hand.”

It was too much. Without further thinking you leaned down and softly pressed a kiss to his lips. He tasted like love and devastation and you couldn’t comprehend that you were the reason for it.

“I’m terrified.” Your lips touched his when you spoke and he captured them, kissing you again.

“So am I.” His hand reached for yours that was still resting on his cheek. Gently, he placed your hand on his lips, kissing your knuckles ever so softly.

Looking back on this moment, you didn’t know what it was that left you weak and defenseless. His words of promising you an eternity by his side? His kisses, so soft, so longing, as if he had waited millennia just to feel your lips? His longing for you that he didn’t even try to conceal? The raw truth and hurt in his eyes as he held on to your hand, terrified that you would leave him again. Maybe it was all of the above. But before you could come up with another reason to leave, you gave in:

“Can we take it slow? A date in the Waking World. As a start?”

He closed his eyes again and you physically felt the relief of him all around you. Those words were what he had been waiting for. The river stilled, the sky brightened, the smell of lavender once again filled the air – heavy, warm, sensual. “Anything for you, my Queen.”

You chuckled. “Calling me your queen is not taking it slow, Dream.”

He countered your statement with the most beautiful smile. “And yet it’s the truth.”

***

“Fucking finally”, Matthew whispered when he watched the scene unfold in front of him. “Took them long enough.”

tagging the people who wanted a 2nd part: @layla2-49 @lilithskywalker @kuchokitty

thank you for reading!

#dream x reader #morpheus x reader #morpheus x you #the sandman x reader #the sandman dream x reader #the sandman fanfiction #the sandman dream of the endless x you #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman morpheus x reader #the sandman morpheus x you #the sandman imagines

830 notes · View notes