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minustwofingers · 1 year

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exoplanet p.6 (ellie’s journals)

summary: you’ve won the life lottery as one of the few people on earth with parents who gained admittance to the most prestigous safezone in the world after the outbreak. but after a lab accident sends you out to jackson, wyoming, real life hits you fast. it’s a good thing that a hot lesbian finds u. (lol). mean ellie at first, slowburn, enemies to friends to lovers, fem reader asf

warnings: a significantly different writing voice! this is going to be a very different vibe from the other chapters since i had to write it as i imagine ellie would (which is a lot different than i do). slight nsfw content (mdni), language, mentions of violence/gore, angst, ellie’s pov is actually really depressing

a/n: soooo i know it’s been almost 3 months...and i’m really sorry about that! a lot of stuff happened in my life and i kind of fell off writing for quite some time. but i finish series, so i’m going to get through exoplanet in its entirety so i can finally give you all closure. some preliminary notes: know that these are modeled after how i imagine ellie would journal if she did journal this much. canonically she didn’t do that much writing that follows a narrative like it does here. i think it’s honestly a little ooc for her to be emotionally responsible enough to talk out her feelings, but given that there’s no other way to tell her side of the story (save for legit rewriting it from her perspective, which would take another 6 months or so and be horrifically repetitive), i decided to just suck it up and write it. i’m sorry if it sounds awkward, since she definitely doesn’t write in a voice that i have much experience with. the next chapter will be better!

word count: 5.5k

tags~ @intrnetdoll @dazedshoon @lovecaraya @pctcr @sariyaflowr @loser-keiji @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @elliesbabygirl @pinkazelma @ariianelle @lu002 @blairfox04 @sparkleswonderland @elliesflower @muthafuckingstargirl @elliewilliamsissubermommyoml @eviestevie-14 @quicksilversg1rl @guacala @crtcrp @overtrred28

(i haven’t updated this yet bc my tags aren’t working)

a special special SPECIAL thanks to both @roarriita and @elliesflower for being soooo sexy and betaing for me. you both are so wonderful and helped me sm in feeling good enough to post this :)

without further ado, enjoy ellie’s journals!

January 20th, 2038

Today’s been…fucking…

I don’t even know where to start. I don’t get why this sort of shit always happens to me. First it was being bit and somehow surviving. Then it was getting carted off across the country. And now some girl basically falls out of the sky, claiming that she comes from some sort of paradise up North?

I’ll spare the immediate details. I don’t think I’ll forget the basic stuff—her name, the way she looked clutching at her knees in the clearing and shaking. That stupid shirt she had on and that expensive scarf.

I still want to believe that she’s just a liar who happened to get lucky with running into us, but even without Joel vouching for her story, I don’t think I’d ever be able to buy that she’d been living in the same world as us. I’ve never met someone without scars before. I didn’t know that there were people out there who didn’t have marked up arms and faces. Or people without calluses. Did you know that hands can be totally smooth?

Anyway. Tommy says that he’ll try and reach out across the contacts he has. Joel has her living right down the hall from me in the meantime, so now I have to share my bathroom. Hopefully the Terranovan authorities are good at finding people. She takes so fucking long to shower. It’s a wonder the whole compound still has hot water.

[One page of drawings follows: Dina smiling in the snow on her horse, Joel playing his guitar]

January 25th, 2038

Maria says that they’re thinking about breeding Shimmer soon. I know she told me because that means I’ll need to ride another horse for a little until she recovers and I know that we need another generation of foals, but it still made me cringe for Shimmer’s sake. She’s too free-spirited to be a mother. She doesn’t deserve that.

I went stargazing last night. It was pretty. Lots of shooting stars. I ran into the girl while I was coming back from the meadow. She gave me a weird look, and I could tell she wanted to ask me where I’d been but kept her mouth shut. Sometimes I regret dropping off that bag of clothes. I really fucking liked that gray sweatshirt, actually. I’m not even joking. It looks weird to see it on someone else.

[Half a page of drawing follows of the night sky with labeled constellations]

February 5th, 2038

Long time no see. I’ve been pretty busy with patrols and helping Maria with securing the walls. Joel made me try some of that coffee that our new house guest brought. It was just as awful as I remembered, but he seemed happy. So one point for the space girl. I guess.

Dina’s been hanging around more. She just broke up with Jessie (yes, again). She swears that it’s for good this time, but I’m not so sure. She also talks a lot about Y/N and what little detail she’s gathered about her life back in Terranova. I thought teasing her by asking her if she had a crush on Y/N would make her talk less about it, but it just made things worse.

I miss when things were normal.

[One page of drawings follows: one of Shimmer in cross-ties, another of a girl’s face, half-finished with the face scribbled out]

February 12th, 2038

Today I’m sad. I’m in bed with that book about astronomy that Joel nabbed for me on patrol a while ago and there’s a section I wanted to read that’s completely waterlogged. It shouldn't be a surprise. It’s decades old and has survived through an apocalypse. Normally things like this don’t bug me much because I’m so used to it. Half of my Savage Starlight collection is damaged. I don’t think I’ll ever find the first book to actually complete the series, and that’s okay, because I’ve never expected anything more. But now that I know that there’s a world out there where I’d never have problems like this, stuff like this hurts. It’s so stupid. I’m lucky to be alive. Compared to what’s left of the world population, I live a much cushier life than most. But for the first time in a while, I’m wishing for more.

“Greed is the enemy of happiness” is what Maria would say if I ever said this kind of shit out loud. But is it really? Or is it just realizing what life can be?

[Half a page of a drawing of the solar system, with each planet labeled]

February 22nd, 2038

Maria let me pick the sire for Shimmer’s foal. It felt kind of gross, to be honest. I asked Maria if there was any way for Shimmer to choose and I was only sort of joking, but she just laughed anyway and patted my back. I won’t have to worry about finding a new horse for another two seasons or so, she told me. It’ll be weird not having her for a little.

She also told me that there was still no word from anyone who knew anything about Terranova. She said this to me in this placating voice, like she thought that I was going to punch a hole in the wall or something after hearing it. That seems to be common when it comes to people talking about Y/N and me. I don’t know why so many people think I don’t like her staying with us.

I don’t, by the way. Let me be clear. But I mostly feel indifferent about her now. She doesn’t bother me as much anymore, not since she started getting out of the house. I think she might be helping in the gardens, but I’ve never actually asked. We don’t talk a whole ton. I don’t think she likes me all that much.

[A drawing of Shimmer’s head poking over her stall door that takes up one page]

March 2nd, 2038

Today was finally our first nice day of the year. I would’ve enjoyed it more if the bird that lives in the tree outside my window hadn’t blown me out of bed at 4 in the fucking morning. I’m exhausted now. It’s been a long day. Joel says I need to take Y/N out on patrol soon. Why, I have no idea. Maybe he just wants me to actually befriend her or something, and I do nothing but patrols now. He can’t possibly expect her to be a good patrol partner.

Thankfully, I checked the logs when I came back. The route he wants me to cover with her has been the quietest all season. I doubt we’ll run into anything. If we do, I’ll probably be able to handle it. Hopefully.

[Half a page of doodles, mostly of nature and wildlife with the exception of a half-finished doodle of an arm clad in a fabric that drapes like silk and a hand with polished nails]

March 3rd, 2038

Many surprising things were learned today. I can’t believe it’s illegal to be gay in Terranova. Sorry. I shouldn’t laugh. It’s just—out of all the things they could be bothered by, it’s that? Really?

March 12th, 2038

I haven’t been good at journaling recently. I don’t really want to talk about why. You know why.

[Six pages of drawings, with many unfinished doodles of Y/N—including but not limited to her on her horse, her reading on the couch, and one with her sitting in what is a very loose interpretation of a classroom, taking notes]

March 13th, 2038

I will feel more normal tomorrow. Hopefully.

[Two pages of drawings, all of Y/N. One is her bent over a book, the other is her smiling up at you]

March 14th, 2038

I did something really stupid. I think I should probably just document this here so I don’t accidentally drunkenly spill it all out to Dina at the next bonfire. This is so embarrassing. I don’t get why I feel this way. It’s so stupid, you know? To feel anything towards someone who’s so…I don’t know. Different.

She gives me the weirdest looks sometimes. I can’t tell what they mean. It feels like she’s judging me. And why wouldn’t she be? I bet all the girls she spends her time around back home are just like her—perfect, orderly, pretty, proper. The day before I took her patrolling she gawked at the shorts I was wearing. It was borderline offensive. Actually, fuck that. It wasn’t borderline. It was offensive. You don’t just stare at people like that. She should know that.

Anyway, I invited her over to my room last night. Normal, right? Because we’ve been doing that a little since I took her on patrol, by the way. I’m not sure if I mentioned that before. But this time I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m…I don’t know. Creepy? Strange? Scary? She told me that she thought I was intimidating. And then I called her “untouched”, like how some old-timer devout Christian wackjob or whatever would describe virginity. It was so fucking weird of me. I don’t know what got into me, but she kept doing this thing where she kicked my foot with hers or touched my knee and it just threw me off. It took me forever to fall asleep last night—I kept replaying what I’d said to her, especially how I’d told her that she wouldn’t have made it if she were me like I was some sort of hardcore survivalist. I think I embarrassed her. I’m never doing anything like this again. I’m going to be dead sober every time I see her from now on.

I’ll stop talking about that. Y/N did come back after I’d made a fool of myself and showed me her collection of movies, so maybe it wasn’t so bad. I haven’t watched any movies since I was with Cat. When we first started dating, I’d invite her over and she’d sit right where Y/N did last night. I’m trying to not think of the implications, because it’s space girl, and she’s going home sometime soon.

[Three pages of drawings follow—some nature drawings of ferns and moths, others of Y/N with wet hair, her knees tucked up to her chin like she’d been in Ellie’s bed that night]

March 19th, 2038

It’s the Spring Equinox. That’s the first thing Y/N told me this morning when she saw me in the kitchen this morning. She gave me a mini lecture on what that meant for the planet’s axis tilt and I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I already knew, since she seemed really excited to tell me.

I made a horrible discovery yesterday, by the way. Maria came up to me and told me that Tommy had decided to reach out to some of his other buddies up North to see if they had any connections to Terranova, and for the first time, I felt myself hoping that it wouldn’t work.

It’s awful. I shouldn’t be thinking like this. Even in Jackson, where things are comparatively much better than the rest of the world, there’s risk. Just this winter, one family had to be kicked out when they were found hiding an infected son. No one here is completely safe, just safer. I shouldn’t be selfish. Y/N needs to go where she’s meant to be, where there’s no chance of infection or invasion. I’ll be fine. I just need to get over whatever this is.

Speaking of her, I need to go get her to tell her that we’re heading out on patrol in just a few minutes. Fingers crossed she doesn’t accidentally shoot me, but Joel swore up and down that she knows how to handle a gun now. Sure. Haha.

I’m back. It’s the middle of the night and she only just left my room. I don’t know how much detail I need to go into—chances are I won’t forget this. But for bookkeeping purposes: patrol did not go so hot. I had to give her stitches without any local anesthesia. I’ve never given stitches to anyone nearly in my lap before. I was really nervous, too. I don’t think I’ve ever had to focus so much on keeping my hands steady when it came to stitching someone up before, not even with Joel.

I’m starting to think that maybe I was wrong about thinking that she didn’t like me. I still can’t tell exactly what she thinks of me, and I know that it’s a really bad fucking idea to be entertaining thoughts like these, but tonight she did something that made me reconsider. She got under the covers with me, and instead of moving away to keep us from touching, she rested her head next to mine on the pillow.

I hope she couldn’t hear how much my heart was racing. People can’t hear that kind of stuff, right? Even if they’re close?

I’m being ridiculous. There’s no way she—No. She doesn’t see me like that.

March 21st, 2038

She rested her head on my shoulder today. I don’t know what to think of it. If she was normal and grew up like the rest of us did, I would know exactly what to think. But she’s not normal, and it’s not fair of me to treat her like she is. Maybe this is, like, a culturally acceptable thing back from where she grew up. Maybe rich people just cuddle each other all the time. I wouldn’t fucking know, and unfortunately no one in this godforsaken town can help, because there’s a distinct lack of what Maria calls the “bourgeoisie”. They’re all either dead or back where Y/N grew up, doing whatever rich snobs do.

Even if it is normal for her, I feel like I can’t stop analyzing everything she does. She seems more nervous around me than she does anyone else, but she lingers like she can’t help herself. I’ve noticed that she stumbles over her words and touches me much more than is really necessary. Or at least I think she does—maybe I’m just imagining things.

But even if it means what I think it does, I can’t let myself think like this. It’s not fair to her. No one deserves to live here if they have the choice. At least the people out here know how to handle it. She doesn’t, and I don’t want her to turn into the type of person who does.

When I stitched her up and teased her about being weak and sensitive, I think she thought I was insulting her. I try not to think about it, but if I let myself wallow too much, I’ll wonder what kind of person I’d be if I wasn’t so jaded. Maybe I’d draw more, or read more, or write more. Maybe I’d be an easier person to love. I didn’t get to choose how I turned out. It just happened to me.

So if she has the choice, I’m going to do everything I can to help her make the right one. I don’t want her to be like this.

March 29th, 2038

I had a dream about Riley last night. I haven’t had one of those in years, not since I was traveling with Joel. We were back in the mall, and Riley had just turned the lights on as a surprise. I had this feeling then, like I was being given a second chance. That I could set things straight and do what was right. I woke up before I could insist that we leave.

[A drawing takes up half of the next page. It’s a crude depiction of the mall Riley turned in.]

April 4th, 2038

It’s the middle of the night again. I can’t sleep. I’m so disappointed with myself about what I did tonight with Y/N. At the time, it seemed like a really good idea. She likes me back, apparently. I was right about everything that I wrote about earlier, I guess. But it certainly doesn’t feel like I thought it would.

It’s not like there’s no part of me that isn’t thrilled that she feels the same way. That’s why I gave in and slept with her. But even when she told me how she felt, even before I completely lost my self-control, something heavy was already hanging over me. Regret, maybe. Or guilt. I don’t know. What I do know is that this can’t last. I can’t make this good for her like I want to. She needs to go back, and she needs to be able to feel like she can make that choice without feeling like she’s leaving anything good behind.

I’m not a spiritual person. but even so, I can’t help but feel like that dream of Riley was a sign. This is my second chance. I’m not going to fuck it up this time. I’ve already been an accomplice of so much suffering. Y/N is going home, and I’ll never see her again when she does. That’s that.

It took all I had left in me in the end to kick her out. She looked so hurt, and the fact that she tried to hide it made it even worse. I wish I could tell her why this can’t work, but I don’t think she’d understand.

[A drawing of Y/N kissing Ellie’s palm follows, her hair slightly mussed]

April 6th, 2038

I need to stop making rash decisions like knocking on her door late at night and asking her to come over. I really don’t know what’s gotten into me, because whenever I see her now, I can’t help but freeze up. Like last night, when she kissed me and touched my face and told me she thought I was a good person. I panicked and told her—well, nevermind. I don’t really want to repeat it here. It was mean, but I didn’t know what else I could do to get her to stop.

She was already tearing up by the time she left. I had to sit down and breathe deeply for a few minutes before I was sure I wasn’t going to be sick. I don’t really think I want to write more about this right now. It just makes me sad how unfair this all is. Of course the one time after Cat that I meet someone I really like it just has to be in one of the cruelest scenarios possible. I just have no idea what to do.

[Five pages of drawings follow of Y/N in bed, her head tilted back against the pillow, her eye’s half lidded, and her mouth slightly agape. Ellie redraws this multiple times, x-ing out parts that don’t seem quite right]

April 10th, 2038

I know this is none of my business, but she’s been spending a lot of time with Dina lately. She nearly got herself killed getting a gift for me with Dina yesterday, which feels like some sort of especially cruel joke. The universe isn’t being very fucking subtle right now.

If what I’m worried about is right, at least Dina has the option to come with her up North. She’d test negative.

April 20th, 2038

I would really like it if I could have one short break from the misery that’s my life right now. I turned 20 yesterday, accidentally introduced Y/N to my ex, proceeded to get much drunker than I meant to, completely fell off my rocker and asked Y/N to stay the night, and then discovered this morning that not only has Terranova found Y/N but that my strategy of keeping Y/N at arm’s length completely failed.

She wants me to come with her, and she’s threatening to stay here otherwise. I did the only thing that I could think to do and snapped at her.

I’m so tired of this. I hate having to act like I don’t care. This is the third time now that I’ve had to say something nasty to her to keep her from getting too close. I just want to get in bed and sleep until she leaves and I can pretend like nothing ever happened and that everything is normal.

[One page of drawings of Y/N passed out in her bed and Y/N grinning while holding a lopsided cake]

April 28th, 2038

I know I haven’t been writing much again. Sorry about that. I just can’t bear to think about my life right now. I know I should be relieved—this is what I wanted. I wanted her to go where it’s best for her.

But there’s still that selfish part of me that keeps me up at night. Y/N is going to leave this place never knowing how I feel about her. Logically, that should be what I want. This way I won’t need to say a real goodbye. I know I won’t need to now, since she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore. It’s really fucking immature of me to be so hurt by what she must think of me now, but I can’t stop.

I wonder how long it will take for me to stop feeling sad about this. I’ve never had to process anything like this where there’s nothing I can do. With Riley and Sam, I at least got to heal from the knowledge that I was going to help make the vaccine to save the world. But losing Y/N just because of where we come from is totally meaningless. I can go forward knowing that I made it easy for her to make the right decision, but that only goes so far.

I don’t know how I’m going to handle this. I’m going to practically live with Dina so I don’t need to be alone for the first few weeks.

I wish May 8th would just come already so she can go away and I can get on with my life.

May 1st, 2038

Things have changed some. Joel cornered me in the kitchen last night and told me that I needed to grow up and just appreciate the rest of the time I had left with Y/N. I was going to agree and try to walk past him, but he stopped me and told me that he needed me to escort Y/N. I guess he’s right. She can’t go alone, and Joel and Tommy are getting a little too old for week-long expeditions into the wilderness.

He also told me that I need to apologize to her and make things right, saying shit like I’d regret it forever if things ended between us like this. I don’t want to admit it, but I think he’s right. When I told him that she’d originally threatened to stay if I didn’t go with her, he blinked, hard. Then he told me that he had an idea.

I’m faking it. I’m telling her that I’m going, even though I’m going to leave her when she gets picked up. I don’t know how I’m going to pull it off. When I told her in the meadow last night, she was so happy. I know it’s really sappy and cliche to say this, but I felt my heart shatter, bit by bit. I’m not a very good liar, not to people who are important to me. But I suppose I’ve been lying to her all this time, kicking her out of my room and telling her that I didn’t want anything more with her.

I can do this, I think. I have to do this, or else she might threaten to stay, and I don’t think I have it in me to be cruel again. Not to her. I guess I’ll just trick myself into feeling like I’m actually coming with her, like we have a chance of actually being together. I don’t know. We’ll see.

[One drawing of Y/N laying down in the meadow that takes up half a page]

May 3rd, 2038

It’s easier than I expected. Y/N sleeps over in my room at night, and if I don’t think too hard about it, I can pretend like things will always be like this.

I’m getting to be such a sap, though. I almost broke down in the bathroom today while I was getting ready. It was over the stupidest thing—a toothpaste bottle. Y/N always folds it so neatly, making a perfect, tight spiral of plastic near the end. It used to really bother me when I first had to share with her (because who does that—it’s weird and doesn’t do anything since she doesn’t manage to squeeze out the extra in the bottom anyways), but the thought of throwing it out when it finally emptied and having to find another one that’ll never be folded again hit me and suddenly I was counting my inhales and exhales. I don’t really give a shit about toothpaste. It’s just that it was the moment that I realized that she’s really going to be gone soon, you know? Slowly but surely, the evidence of her stay here will be wiped away and replaced. Someday I’ll forget all the little details about her.

She’s knocking on my door. I need to stop being so depressed and go see her before she picks up that something’s wrong.

[One small doodle of Y/N smiling and rolling her eyes while brushing her teeth]

May 6th, 2038

Dina’s coming now. Y/N told me this morning after she went to say goodbye. I feel really shitty about this. I guess I should tell her that I’m not going now, because this way Y/N needs to go home to get Dina the help she needs, but I just can’t bring myself to. I’ll have to escort both of them to the pickup spot anyway since Dina’s weaker now that she’s pregnant, and the thought of having to spend a full week with Y/N after she knew I lied to her makes my skin crawl. I can’t tell who I’m trying to protect by doing this—me or her. Maybe both.

I’m losing my two favorite people here, and they don’t even know it yet. But this is the best option. This is my chance to finally do some good in the world.

May 7th, 2038

I’m about to go stargazing with Y/N for the last time. I don’t think I’ll be writing in here again until I get back. I don’t want to risk losing this while I’m out in case something crazy happens. Which it probably will, but I canonically happen to be really good at living when shit hits the fan. Also—I don’t imagine Y/N to be a particularly nosy person, but if she ever came across this and thought it was a book or something, it would make things really awkward. So, you’re staying tucked carefully under my bed until I come back later this month.

I don’t know how to handle this sort of goodbye. I don’t really know how to handle any sort of goodbye, I guess, but at least I’ve been through them before. I may not do it well, but I know how to live when people I love die. But this isn’t like that. No one is dying (hopefully), and more importantly, I know it’s a goodbye this time. I see it coming on the horizon and I can’t even tell anyone about it. How does anyone deal with that? How does anyone cope?

Y/N’s knocking on my door now. I need to go before I start thinking even more and do something stupid like start crying or whatever.

I’ll be back in about two weeks.

June 1st, 2038

Sorry for not writing. It’s been pretty shitty, actually. It took me 5 extra days to get home because some scavengers gave me trouble. I hardly slept for most of them. I ran out of ammo about 4 days out and had to use my knife for everything I ran into until I was able to raid the cabinets of this abandoned cabin. Nearly got taken out by a clicker, too. It was not fun. It was especially not fun because I was not feeling super great to begin with, for obvious reasons.

Things haven’t gotten any better since getting back to Jackson. Y/N didn’t take her stupid Exoplanetary Systems textbook and now I’m struggling with whether or not I should throw it out. The rational side of me says to keep it because it was published after the outbreak and probably contains updated information that isn’t anywhere else. The rest of me doesn’t even want to look at the stars anymore because it reminds me of her.

It’s really hard not to blame her for ruining everything. I can’t go out and ride my own horse without thinking about the first time we went on patrol together and she dropped my gun and nearly killed one of us. And I can’t even relax in my own home, because I’ve spent almost every night with her since March in my bed. Sometimes when I hear a creak in the middle of the night I assume it’s her walking down to the bathroom or getting water until it hits me again that she’s never coming back.

I know I’m being melodramatic. There are many other worse problems I could be having right now. But I don’t even have my best friend anymore. I wonder if Dina and Y/N are angry with me for lying. I wonder if they’re settling in okay. I hope that Y/N manages to fix whatever her research was and that Dina gets better.

[Twenty pages of drawings of Y/N and Dina together. Some are snippets of them on their expedition to the pickup site. Others are pictures of Y/N and Dina walking around with smiles on their faces in what looks to be a city]

June 21st, 2038

It’s been over a month since I’ve last seen her. I had a breakdown while getting ready for bed when I realized that I didn’t remember what her voice sounded like anymore.

[Ten pages of half-finished drawings, each with its face scribbled over]

June 28th, 2038

I don’t think I really remember what she looks like—not exactly. I’ve been trying to draw her because I’m still in the habit of making decisions that are definitely not good for my mental state. I just can’t do it, and it isn’t for the lack of trying. Every time I get to her eyes I keep drawing something that looks wrong, but I can never tell why. I compare it to my earlier drawings of her from when we first met and it feels like meeting her for the first time again.

Joel says it’ll pass and that he’s proud of me for doing the right thing. Jessie and I have been hanging out more. Even if he won’t admit it, I can tell he’s miserable without Dina. But he understands why she had to go—just like how I feel about Y/N. And Dina too, of course. Jackson feels like a ghost town without her.

July 17th, 2038

I haven’t been writing or drawing in here for a while, I know. I was going to just go ahead and start a new journal—you know the one that Maria gave me for Christmas with the dark blue cover—but it didn’t feel right to just stop without explaining. Otherwise I’ll feel like an asshole for wasting so much paper.

I don’t want to move on from what happened with Y/N and Dina. I really don’t, but I don't think I have a choice. If I keep going on like this, I’ll never be able to live normally again. I’m just sick and tired of being sad all of the time. So I’m not going to write here anymore. I don’t think it’s realistic for me to forget all about it, because I don’t want to forget her. Not really. But I guess if I want to get better, I’ll need something different. So, here’s that. The beginning of my fresh start. “Fresh start” and you call me overdramatic!! haha. Y/N was here!

(You left this on your nightstand. I promise I didn’t read too much. I opened it because I thought it was your sketchbook. I’m going to put this back since I hear you walking down the hall now.)

ok as an aside my blog is broken so my stuff isn’t notifying people when i tag/showing up on dashes or in tags. please reblog if you’re comfortable so people can actually find this! thank you!

final a/n: i totally get it if this wasn’t quite your cup of tea this time—i just really wanted to iron out ellie’s pov before their reunion in the end. which is happening and not a spoiler because i have always promised a hea! this was a change in pace for the story and i promise you that the next chapter will be more normal/align more with my normal writing style. i have also changed my mind (probably) and have decided to stick with writing an epilogue! so two more chapters are coming before this is totally over. thank you so much for waiting and being so patient! i love you all dearly ok bye bye now

#ellie williams x reader #exoplanet #not adding tags because i’ll eventually repost #this is just for people who want to read!

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brown-little-robin · 2 months

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hi robin :] very random but im watching craft videos while i eat dinner and it got me thinking about ur ceramics. giving u permission to ramble about the ceramics process (or literally anything abt ceramics), if you want to <3 idk anything abt ceramics like not a clue but im very curious and every time u talk abt them i stare at u w sparkly eyes (also i've recently developed a HUGE respect for all 3d arts bc holy shit making it look right at all angles ?????literally how)

👀✨‼️

Hi thank you so much!! staring at you with the same sparkly eyes,,, watching craft videos while you eat that's so cool,,, Also, weirdly enough, I have the same "how???" thoughts about doing 2d art. I have trouble conceptualizing making something look right from only 1 angle; that seems like a lot of pressure. with a sculpture, if something doesn't look right from one angle, I know there's probably some structural problem, and I turn the sculpture around a little bit and usually figure out that the problem is deeper than what I thought. I'm thinking of ears, specifically—how, often, my problem with the outlines of my ears (seen from the front) is that the back of the ear isn't full enough, I need to add clay, and just nudging the clay to fix the outline wouldn't Work. and I wouldn't have known if I couldn't turn the sculpture around. the respect and awe goes both ways

longgg ramble about the ceramics process below the cut :]

okay SO. the ceramics process, huh? Well, I mean, I'm really in love with the sculpting part, where you take wet clay and make it into an Animal with Bones And Muscles. I just love the animal form—I think in a similar way to how you love the human form and the way clothing folds. I do wheel-throwing too (I make cups, bowls, that sort of thing), but I've been sculpting since I was like 8 years old and I'm way better at sculpture. it's one of a few things in my life that I take genuine pride in. I love teaching people about sculpting, too!! nothing better than seeing someone instantly grasp the insight I spent years developing <333 ANYWAY

one thing that often surprises people about clay is that it's very... flexible, water-content-wise. clay is basically made of a bunch of small "plates" of dry material with water in between. the water makes the entire structure flexible, which is why clay shrinks and goes brittle when it dries. and clay is always drying out. small sculptures like the ones I make, especially ones with thin limbs (more surface area for the air to leech moisture out of) dry out within half an hour. I have to add water to the thin parts every so often the whole time I'm sculpting. but of course the clay has to be firm enough to hold the creature's overall shape, so it's a balance. it's always a race against time. it's super exciting. To Me, anyway

it takes a day or two for a sculpture to dry. After the sculpture dries out, that's when I paint it with my special pigments. (pigments that survive 2,000+ degrees of heat!!) Like this:

these are the same sculpture. the first picture was from right after I sculpted the wet clay; the second picture is after it got painted.

Then once a sculpture is made, it sits and dries, right? the water leaves the clay. but not ALL the water. that's why you "fire" the sculpture: you put it in a kiln and heat it up to ~1800°F. EIGHTEEN HUNDRED DEGREES. at that point, all the water boils out and the clay CHEMICALLY CHANGES. the "plates" begin to bond to each other. But they don't bond all the way in the first firing, because you want the clay to still be porous / hydrophilic. you want it to SUCK IN WATER. this is because you want GLAZE to attach to the clay.

Glaze—at least the kind of glaze that I use—is basically DIY glass. It's a lot of very fine silica (sand) with other stuff (like powdered metals) in it to give color. The sand-metal-powder is suspended in water to make it usable, and I stir up the glaze in its liquid form and dip my sculpture in it, and the super dry clay goes YAY WATERRR I'M SO THIRSTY and GRABS the glaze, and the powdery part is left on the surface of the sculpture while the water goes into the clay. it feels funny on your skin when you hold a sculpture in the glaze; you can actually feel the dry clay accepting the water. it feels like... have you ever dropped water on a bone-dry wooden board and seen the water spread out in the direction of the wood's grain? it feels like that.

the sculpture is left looking white and powdery and generally not very attractive. unfired glaze is just... thick white chalk.

THEN I fire the clay a SECOND time. The heat varies, but I always fire to at least 2,244° F. >:D >:D >:D and the sandy glaze actually MELTS INTO GLASS. and I open the kiln, which has the products of about a year or two of work in it, and I WEEP IN JOY because everything has COMPLETELY TRANSFORMED. firing is always risky. some of the sculptures always fail somehow—they break in firing for various reasons, or the glaze runs onto the shelf, or the glaze color turns out different than I thought. but some of them always come out BETTER than I imagined. and it's always a process of discovery, slowly unloading the kiln, layer by layer... the objects still warm from the heat of their firey transformation... hot enough to burn, if you're unloading before they've cooled enough, which I usually do because it's just so exciting...

and my glaze shrinks slightly more than the clay does. imagine that: a thin layer of glass shrinking more than it can take. you can actually hear it breaking. little quiet "plink! plink! plink!" as the glass shatters just a little under the stress. we call it "crazing" and it leaves little cracks in the glaze, like so:

you can also see tiny bubbles in the glaze on the rabbit's inner ear!

I just. (physically shaking) I just love ceramics so much. The sculpting part feels almost like meditation. it's almost a form of worship, for me, it's religious, it's a little version of creation, a way to look at bodies and try to express how they work. For the simple sculpture, I just make them from memory, but I work from references for my difficult sculptures—for instance, here's the little pile of images I collected to make my recent tiger:

the painting part is just plain fun, putting cool designs and stuff on a 3-d object in a low-pressure way. and then the two firings are pure magic. pure delayed gratification. it's incredible. you're telling me this thing I shaped with my mortal human fingers survives TWO THOUSAND DEGREES OF HEAT? you're telling me I get to MAKE COLORED GLASS? out of SAND and METAL? you're telling me after all that, I get to open up the kiln which has put these things through immense heat and see these beautiful objects and go I made those?????

YEAH. SCREAMS.

thanks for reading, I hope you had fun <333

#HIII #hi what a fabulous ask??#sorry I'm a little late; I was on a like vacation family visit thing #back now!! just in time to answer your ask and then vanish offline for a few more days I'm afraid OTL #this is so technical... augh... I only care about chemistry in the context of ceramics but in this context I go INSANE about it #sorry I wrote you a whole essay on the ceramics process... do you forgive me... do you still love me #ceramics #Robin speaks #am I *GOOD* at anatomy? eh... not the best! do I *LOVE* trying to figure out anatomy? YES

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gumspine · 4 months

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HELLO this is horrendously late work was kicking my ass but YES i'm juice and i'll be writing for jung namoo! he's a 22 y/o production assistant/audiovisual technician (yes they still exist) (i like to imagine that it's a bit of a simultaneously hyperfuturistic but also a thing of the past type paradox that namoo precisely loves) + he's also part of the glitched-out subplot as moneybags!

linking namoo's profile + wip plots page for easy access and there's more abt him under the cut, but b4 i get into it: if you'd like to plot, please like this post and i'll msg you <3

BACKGROUND

family: parents were low level but pioneering programmers for iron fist! which would've been well and good if they hadn't gotten themselves embroiled in betting on matches/tournaments to the extent that they would tamper with code or collude with fighters to win bets. orbit found out and suddenly mom and pops were "volunteering" to "work" in the outer world

namoo and his older brother (gureum) were 9 and 12 at the time; guardianship went to a family relative who squandered their parents' payouts liberally. namoo and gureum tolerated it for a bit, but eventually found a good chance to run off w/ what little money was left and live in the belt by themselves

spent his teens doing odd jobs and gigs, picked up a lot of skills along the way. procedural learner and is what one wld describe as being good with his hands

in light of the above ^ he opted for vocational training instead of university! financially it was also the most practical choice. got introduced to PA work by an instructor he had at vocational school, and he follows orders well enough to be delegated miscellaneous grunt work around set without worry. eventually wiggles his way up to actual PA tasks, w/c is where he also picked up a lot of his initial av tech knowledge!

decides to stick to tv/film/event production by the time he's 20, and currently has trade certifications on electronics/communication systems, audiovisual tech, modern media + three-quarters of a term in event management (this is namoo pretty much)

currently still project-based/freelance, but he's rarely out of a gig because he's got that head-down no-complaints hardworking reliability that cost-cutting bosses just luuuv (it's a capitalist corporatocratic world after all)

(ok but seriously he's cultivated a rep for like. being helpful and having initiative and needing little supervision to get stuff done so it follows that he always gets called on whenever production/event companies need PA/tech help!)

PERSONALITY

at a glance: u can immediately tell he's the youngest child/baby brother bc he's very. cutesy and affectionate? loves to tease and be a lil gremlin

despite his boyish tendencies, he's far from immature. brother raised him using their parents and relatives as cautionary tales (in the sense that they sucked as human beings lol) so he grew up a decent kid, if a bit of a doormat

carries himself well on the outside but deep down he has pretty much internalized the prejudice he's experienced due to living in the belt and being poor so his self-esteem is six feet in the mud. not in a wallowy self-pitying sense but like. his instinct is to make himself small and take up as little space as possible. also of the thinking that if he's treated badly he should just put up with it because who is he to complain? he's nobody

growing up his mindset has shaped up to prioritize survival over pride so if self-esteem has to take a backseat it'll take a backseat

his glitch (moneybags, aka he gets unlimited merits for an hour if he claps under a very specific circumstanceㅡw/c he's unaware of! so it isn't something he can intentionally replicate yet) has also put him in a tough spot w/ authorities before (basically he thought the amt of money in his acct wasn't real and just went around clicking "buy" on a bunch of stuff... sorry he was 13... anyway yeah the transactions went through. cue police sirens bc what is a boy from the belt doing w/ that much money)

managed to evade interrogation/escalation by the skin of his teeth thnx to his big bro but like! ya boy is traumatized indefinitely. hates coming across/potentially talking to the terra equivalent of law enforcement or authorities

not to mention that their relatives (to a certain degree aware that their parents were virtual-deathed (?) bc things went sideways with orbit and their gambling) used to taunt namoo abt receiving the same punishment for any little thing so

he has actually accidentally triggered the glitch twice more after that first instance, though he's handled those two times a lot better and with more tact! thnx again in part to his bro so he's not as terrified of his glitch as he initially was. used it to pay the bills and purchase a couple other stuff LMAO but he still gets anxious around authority though

he's also a bit of a conspiracy theorist because he's well-aware that glitches can exist! he's proof of it! doesn't go so far as to interact w/ the tinhat community but he reads the posts n forums... has a bit of a vested interest as well in like. people being sent to the outer world via virtual death against their will because of what may or may not have happened 2 his parents (he doesn't rlly know the truth yet)

sidenote: even though iron fist is somewhat entwined w/ the way his childhood has tumbled downhill, he still luvs the game (as an audience; he can't play for the life of him) and luvs being part of the tech team for iron fist events/tournaments bc it was a big part of like. being a teen in the belt and just having this outlet regardless of how tough life was

MISC

very much artistically inclined, which is why he was initially drawn to tv/film PA work! my 31st century tech lore is that production sets use hyper-realistic life-scale "holographic" projections instead of props or shooting on location which! def sucks for propmasters and authenticity but like. even though this world is virtual and crazy advanced and the sky's the limit, it would still take a creative eye to make beautiful things! u could have the tools but w/o that human touch it wouldn't quite be the same. so he's out here sticking it out as that should-be-a-thing-of-the-past human aspect to a creative endeavor that has endured literal millennia. even though ofc it prolly has changed a lot from our time

his work is predominantly on the technical side but he's interested and has a knack for design! specifically w/ holography as the medium. one of the stuff he probably bought w/ his glitch money is the holography version of a wacom tablet

one day would love to lean into that and pick up design as his main fare but for now he earns steadily with PA/av tech work and he's really quite good at it to the point that he's kind of moving up in the world a little? so he's content! not to mention all the backstage perks of getting to work iron fist gigs lol he's just a boy fr

has had the opportunity to be additional tech help with both of last year's iron fist majors so he's hoping he'll get called on to that gig again 🤞

POSSIBLE CONNECTIONS

ppl he grew up with in the the belt, roommates (they were able to move out of the belt eventually so he currently lives in a megabuilding! give him roomies he's super neat and considerate 💙 though downside is that he snores like a cartoon character), celebs he's either had the pleasure or displeasure of working with, iron fist folks (staff, fighters, maybe people whose parents knew his parents?), fellow tinfoil hat wearers, whatever it is let's write it!

#ts:intro #finally got this out... phew #WRITE WITH ME!!!

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novantinuum · 10 months

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3, 7, 8, 17

Thank u Fwex uwu

~CHOOSE VIOLENCE ASK GAME~

3- screenshot or description of the worst take you’ve seen on tumblr

Okay so this isn't a tumblr thing, but I HAVE to describe this absolute chaos I saw on reddit once-

Basically there was this like... mega BotW Mipha stan who was super into Mipha/Link, and somehow by the end on one reddit thread I briefly glanced through ended up deciding to headcanon that Sidon was ,,, I GUESS??? Mipha and Link's secret love child which-

H-how... does that even work lmafo. I am scared. It just CAN'T work, because Sidon is like... toddler shaped by the time the Calamity in Breath of the Wild history happens. (And Zora age slower than Hylians anyways, so for all we know he'd been alive for like 10-15 years already.) It'd certainly make for... uh, a wild AU I guess, but it was definitely a convo that I was thinking This about as I scrolled past it:

7- what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

So I don't think fandom has made me outright HATE a character, but there's definitely characters or ships that have been soured for me because of fandom tomfoolery. I think the notable ones here are...

-I kinda am like, really ambivalent about the Tenth Doctor (Also the recent Ten Take Three going on rn, who I refuse to call the Fourteenth Doctor lmafoooo) because of years of being sick of everyone being all "omggg the show just isn't as good now that Ten isn't there," and shitting on the Doctors who came after. Like, I used to LOVE him but now I'm just. Eugh. Whatever. It's almost as if I feel it's my duty to be absolutely neutral about him to balance out all the tumblr girlies screaming about how Tennant being back now is going to "save" the show or whatever.

-So very sorry, as I WANT to like it as a chronic multishipper, but Link/Sidon is a ship that has been utterly spoiled for me after all the drama that came from Sidon getting a canonical wife in Tears of the Kingdom. I simply do not want to be part of a shipping community that is that bitter when canon doesn't go their way- like, yeah we all want Nintendo to give some gd representation crumbs, but what else did you expect? Like after a certain point you really do just have to acknowledge that certain pairings are never going to happen bc of company bias and just enjoy your own headcanons for your own mental sanity. And the raging misogyny that came out of people about Yona was disgusting.

-Tragically, Fiddauthor (Stanford Pines/Fiddleford McGucket) was tremendously soured for me due to a loud fringe group of shippers who were very hostile to anyone who dared have headcanons about the two characters that weren't: they are both trans and gay. Like you dare to headcanon Stanford Pines as asexual and aromantic? You want a nonbinary Ford? You dare to headcanon Fiddleford as bisexual instead of gay? Death for you. Hate anons for you. It just got so suffocating that I had to basically drop the ship, which sucked because it was one I was SO passionate about back in the days.

8- common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

Hmmm...

King Rhoam is not a good father, nor an abusive monster, but a much more tragic, nuanced third path right down the middle where he and Zelda were close once but he decided to sacrifice his relationship with her in order to campaign for what he believed was more important- the survival of Zelda and all of Hyrule through the activation of her sealing powers. Aka I believe he had to choose between being a good father and being a good king, and in an ironic turn failed at both at once bc he simply didn't have all the knowledge he needed to make the right choices. (His wife wasn't there to provide council to Zelda when it really mattered, and he literally had NO understanding of what she needed.)

To be fair I understand why many in fandom choose to vilify Rhoam in fic, as he does provide a notable moment of antagonism in the Breath of the Wild memories, and it is VERY easy to project one's own personal "bad parent" trauma on such a character while making fan content, but I am wholly of the opinion that making him a one note "shitty father with no redeeming qualities" is perhaps the most narratively boring option as far as canon interpretations go.

17- there should be more of this type of fic/art

Gen fic. This is my answer for every single fandom I've been in. There should always be more gen fic.

Also porn that involves tentacles. This is a wholly self-serving request. Yes, I AM in fact a rapidly swinging pendulum. I want either gen fic or HARDCORE PORN and there's zero in between.

#jen rambles

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sky-poprocks · 2 years

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Not to send an essay in ur inbox but LITERALLY. I've seen ppl complain that genshin is too grindy and it's like. You people would NOT survive playing sky: children of the light. Genshin has a lot of grinding and farming but at least you get noticeable progress from it!! In sky you spend 2 hours farming for 15 candles and then if u don't have any friends to hang out with u just kind of. Log off. But you can't Not do those 2 hours of farming because then you won't be able to get the 16 new cosmetics tgc introduced at once that all cost 200 candles. At least 2 hours of playing genshin gets you well into the story, or artifacts or primogems or SOMETHING worthwhile. Probably should've just made this a post this is long sorry abdhdbfjxbd I just. Have a lot of feelings about the fact that gambling: the game is less horrid to be invested in than sky: children of the light which is supposed to be this fun cute lighthearted experience. Idk. We literally do not know each other sorry for this abdjdnjd

-forgetful-storyteller

gaymer. @forgetful-storyteller

look at my first post on this blog's fucking date. I've been playing since android release and stopped around Shattering getting into beta, this is my sky side-blog. I know Sky's draining on players. 2 years of sky fucked me up.

I grinded daily in sky. it fucking slaughtered me. I still have muscle memory of HF and VoT candle runs.

I don't play sky often anymore for a fucking reason; no one I'm close to plays, it's actually draining and stressing.

I was ftp other than maybe 2-3 seasonal passes on sky. I basically did crs daily for months when possible in 2020-2021, and got fucked over.

You may have a better experience in Sky than Genshin (if you played it), but Genshin is actually better for my mental health long term. I can drop it without worry, and I only play for fun with less worry of "I'm not going to be able to get something I want!" or "shit I'm low on candles". and don't even get me started on the winged lights that only got worse and worse.

I dislike gambling as well, but I don't spend money on Genshin, and quite honestly? I get more from Genshin than Sky ever did for me, which yeah, fucking sucks, but I hate grinding and I can bullshit my way through genshin without constantly gambling. Tbh bud, if TGC found a way to get people gambling, they would. They are not above that as a game company.

Why do you think all of the IAP are so fucking expensive for what it is, even when not collabs? Sky is not a moral game on ethics to it's making either. TGC have ignored the fact they need to pay artist and sweep so many things under the rug from players to try and keep people distracted they always will.

(Edit: I did misread it, look at reblogs)

#ymir sketches #I feel like this is really fucking aggressive on my part but fr. Sky gave me panic attacks if I didn't do dailies #Sky was more addicting to me than Genshin. I just really hate sky for that reason.#It was fine until the traveling spirits prices also grew too much. it hurts to play normally than throwing myself into eden or helping #people for the fucking fire trial (my beloved). I can not play sky often for the sake of my already fucked up mental health.#It's not relaxing to me. It never *was* ever since I got into it.#I hate gacha shit. but more or less. let me have Genshin > Sky:cotl. At least it actually doesn't drain me and gives something interesting #but uh yeah... uh asker I'm from old skyblr... I dealt with panphobes and so much drama as it is in skyblr as well #Anyways... uhh brain too depressed for sky. I actually played for friends over 'relaxing'... and I can not drop it as well as other things #just on the fly... I play genshin because it's just fun for me. I don't get drained because it's actually possible to pace yourself on it.#but uh I will say I stopped caring as much for sky since about dreams. it only finally killed me around shattering beta #tbh that's probably because I'm also a beta player but ya know. I love my ocs and shit which is why I help make The Idyll with my friends

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rotisseries · 1 year

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the next cut is . after hours of walking. "these tunnels go on forever and we've been down here for hours." <- theo. "no real news from the last time you said it 20 minutes ago." "i wasnt doubting thr plan 20 minutes ago." "if you're so concerned just go. i mean no ones forcing you to stay here." "yeah and leave you and our 'army' in charge of my survival? dont think so." "whatever it takes just to save your own ass, and just nobody elses." which is objectively not true. saved liam. saved scott. "im Here arent i? .. maybe i wanna be in the pack." he sounds so hopeful and . well. after he says that mason slows down and theo doesnt realize at first and looks back at him bc he walked past and mason js like "yeah Right. you-you expect me to believe that? " and hes breathinf HARD. he feels strongly about this "a pack js about trust. i mean the first thing youd do is figure out a way to kill all of us. and and it doesnt matter who forgets. i wont." his hand is shaking on his bat in anger and fear and also because his leg got shot and its killing him and mason says "i saw scotts mom. i saw what you did. and as much as im terrified of whats down here, i am way more terrified of turning my back on you." excuse me while i wipe a tear. theo looks so hurt when he says that and his hands start shaking and he hadn't really shown any physical signs of fear until then. and then he shifts and tackles mason to the ground and its NOT what you think. HE WAS SCARED BC THE ANUK ITE WAS NEAR AND HE KNEW IT. HE SENSED IT. AS SOON AS HE TACKLED MASON , AARON SHOWED UP BESIDE THEM AND SWUNG A PIPE OR SUM WHERE MASONS FACE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE. he probably noticed his fear along with masons because of what he was saying and how hard he was shaking and sweating and . his voice cracking and . yeah. say what u want about theo but never say he's not perceptive. idk why i said that thats like one of the first things u learn ab the guy. core character trait.

i need to talk about mason saying "and and it doesnt matter who forgets. i wont." because i know hes talking about liam. mason knows theo and liam are close now. in a way. liam is his best friend he knows why he was okay with mason leaving and being alone with theo. yeah sure he can handle himself but he knows liam sees theo's different now. masons not saying hes not. hes saying he's not going to let it go. that its something he cant erase no matter who he gets to trust him. BECAUSE HE KNOWS LIAM IS STARTING TO TRUST HIM AGAIN. (MAYBE EVEN REALIZES THAT THEO IS IS LIAMS ANCHOR) AND THIS IS WHY MASON HAVING THIS DEEP ROOTED FEAR AND HATRED FOR THEO IS SO BAD. theo knows thats his best friend!!!!!!!!! that no matter how theo acts now for years and years no matter how much he helps and sticks by liam, mason will never approve. because its him!!!!! and that fucking sucks. the CLOSEST PERSON TO LIAM besides scott!!!! literally like your boyfriends best friend telling you you'll never be good enough for them. that you will never be good. basically what happened. i can get worse tho. just a little bit.

shovel talk!!

#:((((#ask #ghoultaffy #hi jayme!

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wanderinglotus7 · 1 year

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Knock Knock...Is U Okay

ANXIETY. Anxiety you’re becoming a close friend that I’m not sure that I want you around. Actually, I definitely don’t want you around. I don’t need a cuddle buddy like you. Man, my body & mind have been going through it lately. If it isn’t one thing it’s another. I didn’t realize how much my anxiety was impacting me until I spoke with my brother, and he said he could hear the anxiety coming thru the phone. OUCH! I tried to explain to him and others what’s been going on recently in my life, but they just don't understand. You can’t fully understand something until you experience it for yourself.

HOME. I don’t have a home. No, I’m not homesick. I’m not rushing to return to Gloucester anytime soon full time. Boston isn’t home for me. I don’t feel like I belong here. I’ve been giving myself time to adjust to this new environment I’m living in, but the energy of this place isn’t settling right within inside of me. Mixing & mingling hasn’t been the greatest experience for me thus far. HECK! The dating scene around here sucks in my opinion. It has been disappointment after disappointment. No wonder some single people these days just want to give up and remain single or end up settling for someone or something. Things have to get better right...? I can at least say that I went on a decent date a few weeks ago that ended up being very pleasant. However, the end result equated to me being ghosted again. Yet, I already had a feeling by the end of the night that was going to happen. So, when that individual did what he did, I wasn’t too surprised. It’s all a game that I’m not interested in playing. Sad to say that date was my first date too (bummer).

I believe my recent struggles with anxiety is connected to loneliness. I miss human connection. And I mean human connection outside of the work context. My brother told me I sound bored and need to get a hobby. Again, he just doesn’t understand. Try moving to somewhere new that is hundred miles away from everything that you’re familiar with; to an area where you have no ties (no family nor friends), during a pandemic, and basically recreating your life from scratch. Trust me, I’ve been putting myself out there. I’m not confining myself to my apartment or only going out if it’s related to work or errands. I’m socializing to the best of my ability with the small circle I do have and with the limited time & energy I have in my reserve. I don’t care what anybody says, making friends as an adult is difficult especially when other people want to remain in their small bubbles. Since living here, I noticed that not too many people are willing to step outside their comfort zone. Unlike me, I like to step outside my box from time to time. That’s the only real way to grow and experience the world. On the other hand, I’m not going to place myself in situations knowing that I’m not going to be welcomed or I’m not going to enjoy myself in desperation for creating friendships.

ONE DEEP BREATH. My brother told me it sounds like I have no goals for myself which is wrong. I do have goals, but at this point they are more long-term goals than short-term goals. And most of those long-term goals are somewhat dependent on having another person involved in my life and I haven’t met that person yet. And another goal I have for myself right now is resolving my health issues which I might be receiving some answers this week (hopefully good news). There’s nothing wrong with having goals. I also don’t want to rush my life away being so goal oriented too. Honestly, I’m somewhat enjoying not having to worry about the next steps in my life that’s the survival mode speaking. I no longer want to live in survival mode. I’m not spending the rest of my life chasing after a bag ($).

So, this is me.

#adult transitions

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thisloveforyourmom · 1 month

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review of acotar: solid 4/10, read it all and DNF'd the second book because i got off the plane and had better things to do LMAO. it's not very good but its also not so hilariously awful or off the wall that it becomes entertaining in its badness.

feyre as a main character is really not very inspired. everything before her going to fairy land is basically katniss everdeen with sisters who suck more - hunting in the woods, starving, one useless parent one dead parent, sibling who won't/can't help them survive, etc etc etc. and her name isn't pronounce 'fairy' but come on. she doesn't really shine until very late in the book, but she's a mildly interesting POV so whatever 5/10 for her.

tamlin is a complete nothing burger of a love interest. there's literally nothing about him and feyre's interactions that is at all compelling. at one point he goes feral and bites her and it's supposed to be all erotic and i don't know who that scene is for, considering if you want a dark romance this aint your book and tamlin never does anything like that again. all of feyre's attraction to him is explained by that bullshit romance authors sometimes do where it's like "and i didn't know why....but i wanted to see him again" girl i don't know why either

the entire setup for the curse is so. contrived. like wdym it's a lengthy and complicated curse but feyre JUST SO HAPPENS to have met every single weird requirement EXCEPT.....she doesn't do the last thing needed to break the curse! and even by her own admission she didn't know why!

the worldbuilding is...a Problem. the high fae aren't fairies they're elves. idgaf. they can lie no problem, they can touch iron, eating their food is totally safe, time passes the same way in the fairy land, etc etc etc. there are seven courts because SJM wanted to bring up the whole seven is a magic number, but she does that by making them autumn, winter, spring, summer, day, night, and...dawn? why not twilight? twilight applies to dawn and dusk, why have we just totally punted the dusk court into oblivion? the main villain does that whole "i said i'd free your love, but i didnt say WHEN!! i'll free him LATER!! he can be freed by DYING!! -evil laugh-" thing except we already established she CAN JUST LIE, so there's no reason to play word games

rhysand and lucien are by far the most compelling people feyre talks to. i think SJM is good at writing enemies-to-lovers because it forces her to actually give them scenes where they find common ground and have meaningful interactions to overcome their hatred.

i do appreciate how she takes the risk of actually getting into some dark stuff in the end of acotar and the beginning of the second book - i thought feyre wasn't going to go through with that, but then she did, and it actually eats her up from the inside out instead of just becoming a woe-is-me-pity-party situation, so props for that. i also don't think many authors would have been willing to toss out the whole LI of the first book, but she committed to that too, so good on u SJM taking risks.

THAT SAID she did him dirty. i would have liked it better if feyre and tamlin truly just became incompatible after their trauma and were forced to admit that loving each other wasn't enough, but it seems like they're full sending tamlin being some kind of villain, which i really hate. in general i think his and feyre's relationship should have been done better - i could absolutely see feyre not loving him, but feeling as though she SHOULD love him because of what he did for her, which solves the whole 'i didnt say i love you' thing AND gives her a reason to go save him and then break up with him as well. overall he is just. really a nothing character until the second book.

acotar as a whole feels like the drudgery SJM had to get through before she could write the second book. it really picks up there. but not enough for me to keep reading lmao see yall

#acotar spoilers #acotar

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woman-respecter · 9 months

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how are you so good at moc omg any tips?

WARNING: INCOMING INFODUMP I AM TOO EXCITED TO ANSWER THIS QUESTION

aaa thank you so much for asking! really because for the most part star rail gameplay is very simple (there are only 3 buttons per character and for a lot of them ur using the same button every time, for example seele will always use her skill, never her basic) it all comes down to team and character builds. now a lot of this you have to get lucky for, like pulling a good character (though you can plan out your pulls strategically like i do) in gacha of getting good relic rolls. but the rest is up to you. if you don’t want to listen to my rant use the website prydwen.gg for everything, as well as teambuilding guides on youtube. also feel free to tell me what chars you have and let me build teams for you, but without further ado here is my guide. (under the cut)

HOW TO BUILD A TEAM

in order to get 3*s on the highest levels of moc you will want to run a dps/support/support/sustain comp (for kafka one of these supports should be a dot applier) or, more rarely dps/dps/support/support (this is p much only for topaz/another follow up attacker or blade/jingliu) and HOWEVER this can be kind of scary/uncomfortable to run and may result in dying a lot if you arent built enough so if you want extra comfort do preservation/abundance/support/dps

pick a main dps for each side. unfortunately, unlike in genshin, the 4* dps kinda suck so these should ideally be limited 5*s or clara. if you don’t have these, qingque is pretty good tho difficult to play and we will be getting a free dr ratio next patch.

understand the skill point needs of your main dps. for many, they will be using their skill point every turn, such as for both of my mains, seele and kafka. for jingliu and blade they only use sp every few turns. dan heng il and qingqiu use a lot of sp every turn. knowing this will help with the rest of your team building

choose two supports who fit your main dps’ needs. for example if you are running kafka, the main considerations are what stats they are buffing on you or debuffing on the enemy as well as how many sp they will consume generate. most supports fit with most dps but some may synergize better with others, for example bronya’s crit boost and sp heavy playstyle synergize very well with jungliu who needs crit but doesnt use a lot of sp, while asta gives speed and atk which are the main stats that kafka uses. basically all the supports (harmony characters + pela and silver wolf) are good in many cases tho yukong is a bit niche. make sure the supports arent cumulatively using too many sp, especially if your main dps uses a lot of sp. you will have to split up some in demand supports between each side but there are plenty of good ones to choose from.

choose a sustain. these are: natasha, bailu, lynx, luocha, gepard, huohuo and fu xuan. if you need someone to help survivability you can also use fire trailblazer but she can’t solo sustain. the most important thing about your sustain is that they fill your sp needs. luocha and gepard are entirely sp positive. lynx bailu and natasha are mostly sp positive but may need to use skill in emergencies. fu xuan uses skill every 3 turns. huohuo is sp neutral. besides sp needs, fu xuan and huohuo have some buffs that they give you. put fu xuan on teams with a crit dps (ie not kafka) and huohuo on energy hungry teams. otherwise this doesnt matter.

you can tailor your teams to the content but building more than the required 8 characters is a pain. so only do that if u have the resources.

RELIC BUILDS

use prydwen.gg for each character to see what sets and stats they want. pray that you get good roles. prioritize building your main damage dealers

ok that was long. feel more than free to send me any more questions on this topic if you need more help, i love doing this ^_^

#honkai star rail

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discountdyke · 9 months

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so the thing is that after thanksgiving I realized I seriously can't go back to my parents without addressing all of the abuse. I figured this would happen at some point, but I didn't realize it would be so soon. wrote out some very long letters to both parents, both revealing and acknowledging secrets about the abuse and looking for a way forward. put the letters in the mail tuesday evening and I've heard nothing about it from my parents so far.

somehow, I felt okay with all of this, and I still sort of do. I thought I would break down and seriously lose function but i just...haven't. I definitely feel depressed, but I don't feel like the whole world is crashing down. I feel like I can survive this without completely losing control, and that feels so wrong? shouldn't I be sobbing all day? that's how I was living in their house. and I have been grieving so much the past year or so for the childhood and parents I deserved but never had.

but what seriously sucks is that I'm basically unemployed bc I have a church gig that's about 4 hours a week. which is like, cool I'm getting some money, but it's not keep my occupied for part of the day. I need to get back into a practice routine which I honestly haven't really had for the past 3 years.

I'm sick of going thru the motions of trying to distract myself. I'm tired of trying to mark things off the list when I still feel so numb and tired. I dont want to think about how things will get better, I just want to sit in my pain. but if I don't check off enough things then I feel horrible about myself and my life. I define so much of myself on productivity so not having a job at all makes that kinda difficult when I'm depressed.

and just when I was getting my footing with all of this, new horrific memories popped up. they just absolutely can't be real, and yet I know in my heart they must be. that's part of this process. that's what happens when u were forced to split into pieces as a toddler. but why now? why is there more? how can there be anything more devastating than what I learned last year? and if that can be true, what else will I find? when will I actually be done with this?

and of course I feel ashamed bc I feel like my flashbacks aren't real (they are) and I feel like I can't grieve my parents when they're alive and my gfs dad just died (even though there is no monopoly on grief) and I feel incredibly guilty for "being mean" to my parents (who inflicted horrific trauma) and for making my gf worry (bc she cares about me). I hate that so much of my brain operates on shame. feels like I can't do anything now without being ashamed of myself somehow.

and I never liked christmas but this really is a bad time of year to confront your parents about 20 years of abuse bc everyone else is spending time with their families. thank fucking god I start the conversion process in few months and also that elise and I got to spend hannukah together so we had a holiday in that way. I just wish the entire world wasn't crashing around me while I lay depressed and dissociated from it all in bed.

#talking tag #i cry for like 10 minutes each day and I feel numb or anxious the rest of the time #it sucks so bad. and it's fucking nighttime at 5pm every day so that's REALLY not helping lmao

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years

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Hi love, so I was wondering if u had any thoughts about Edward panic changing Bella if she was close to death while he was near. Like if they were in a car accident or whatever and medical help was too far away. For all his refusal to turn her and let her die naturally, he seems like he would panic and bite her when in the actual situation. (Regardless of whether or not he succeeds in turning her or mercy kills her after, because I totally agree with u about those two lmao 😭😭😂)

Hello, anon.

Well, this actually happened in canon.

The Fiasco of Bella's Emergency Birth

Bella's emergency C-section was a complete shit show and almost like an act of God to make sure Carlisle was not there. The date for the operation had been set, after weeks of starvation Carlisle finally leaves the house in order to prepare for surgery, and the second he steps out side what happens.

Bella's spine snaps like a twig, Edward has to eat his daughter out of the womb, and Bella's goes into cardiac arrest.

Bella's heart stops in the middle of this, her spine was broken, and she lost a massive amount of blood. Bella was a millisecond from death.

Edward stabs her with a syringe and chooses to turn her.

Before that point, it was unclear that he would.

He starts Breaking Dawn trying to coax Bella into postponing the change or even delaying it inevitably. His plan is to attend college with her, something Bella would physically not be capable of as a typical newborn.

Given the Volturi, this was absolutely not an option, Edward insists it is anyway.

When Bella becomes pregnant with his child, his plan is to abort her (forcibly if need be) and supply her Jacob Black as a stud in order to deliver all the human babies she could possibly want. Bella by this point cannot digest human food, her stomach has turned to stone, and Renesmee has likely damaged her internal organs beyond repair. Bella cannot go back to being an ordinary human, not without significant health issues, and that's if she survives at all (which I find doubtful).

I'm sure Edward had it in his mind that, even with Carlisle cutting Bella's uterus open with his teeth, that somehow, in some miraculous way, they might not have to turn Bella. Bella can remain human and everything will be fine.

But then Bella is dying in front of him, he sees her heart stop, and he makes the panic decision to save her life. He shoots her heart full of venom then begins CPR. Bella survives through the transformation and is turned.

To me though, this was very much a panic changing and something that was up in the air. Edward in that moment had to decide whether or not he could live without Bella, even if she's a vampire. He chose to keep her, he likely will always wonder if he made the correct choice.

But Back To Your Question

By Breaking Dawn Bella's been around a while. She's made it repeatedly clear, many many times, that she wants to be a vampire. She and Edward have extensively argued both pros and cons of vampirism. Edward's not sure Bella really gets what his reality is (she doesn't) but they have gone over it.

Bella's also talked to Carlisle, Rosalie, and Jasper about the whole vampire package. She's met multiple vampires, been attacked by multiple vampires, even Edward can't deny she's seen the ugly side of vampirism.

Bella really wants to be a vampire.

Edward has also faced reality without Bella Swan. It's bleak, cold, and endless. There is nothing for him in that world, even separating from her if she were to remain human pains him significantly.

Even Edward, stubborn as he is, could read the writing on the wall by Breaking Dawn. The decision is ruminating in the back of his mind and the option, loathe as he is to admit it, is actually on the table.

Then you have Renesmee who really helps things along. Per Renesmee, Edward decides that vampires do in fact have a soul. He is not a damned, senseless, creature and turning Bella would not condemn her to be a monster. He still likely doesn't like the idea of it, for reasons he cannot explain to himself, but his major theological argument is now gone.

Without Renesmee's gift, he may very well not have gone for that syringe.

But say we're in Twilight or even New Moon, this is a Bella Edward is sure has no idea what a vampire is. One who has not had a chance to assert a billion times that, yes, she really really really wants to do this. He's still convinced he can leave her and she can live a human life without vampires or any supernatural nonsense.

We see this Bella get significantly injured in Edward's presence.

Bella is losing a lot of blood fast after her run in with James. Carlisle has to start stitching her up immediately and get her to a hospital. A little later, and even from the blood loss she might have died. She's also been been bitten.

To stop her transformation, the venom would have to be sucked out, something notoriously difficult to do even under the best of circumstances. Bella's currently bleeding profusely and is Edward's singer: this is a death sentence.

Rather than panic change her, Edward panic keeps her human. He sucks the poison out, nearly going too far and killing her, and risks her death to keep her human.

In that moment, though it's a flash decision, Edward would rather Bella die than turn her. (After which, of course, he would go to Volterra to kill himself and give Aro an aneurism).

He repeats this sort of idea throughout the series. Notable are the times that Bella gives him hypothetical scenarios, increasingly ridiculous, to see what he would come up with.

A car crashes? Edward never crashes cars, he is that awesome at driving. And if the car crashes anyway, he has the reflexes of a panther, he'll unbuckle Bella, vault out of the car, and heroically jump out the back window to safety and humanity. Bella will never be injured.

A plane crashes? Edward unbuckles Bella from her seatbelt, carries her bridal style to the emergency exit, and then throws them both out the window and to safety... some tens of thousands of feet below preferably in water. He and Bella are then photographed as the sole miraculous survivors of this terrible tragedy. (When Edward gave this answer, I had my answer as to whether or not Edward actually passed his basic physics class. The answer, children, is no.)

Granted, these are not actual scenarios, and it's easier to give these kinds of answers than talk about them. But it's very telling that in Twilight, when Bella point blank tells him that one day she will die and that is the truth of humanity, he essentially says, "Blue Screen: ERROR" back to her followed swiftly by, "THE SUBJECT IS CLOSED".

Back to Your Question (Again)

But let's say we have your scenario. The summer after James, in Bella and Edward's summer of love before the birthday disaster, Edward (say it ain't so) crashes the fucking Volvo.

What can one expect when making a sharp turn at 110 MPH? Well, Edward has the reflexes of a panther, so he never saw it coming somehow. Bella, of course, saw it coming the first time she stepped into Edward's car.

Edward walks out fine, Bella... does not. The car's down in a ravine, Bella's bleeding out, it is clear she is not going to survive this and Edward cannot get her to the hospital in time even with his speed.

Well, given this is Twilight, and given the shock of all of this and suddenness, Edward could very well black out and eat her. When Edward comes to, he's om nom noming on Bella's battered corpse.

Edward runs away to Italy to kill himself.

Say he doesn't though, Edward manages to hold his breath or else miraculously control himself. Bella's still bleeding out, and giving him this very dazed, expectant, look. From Bella's face, it's clear what she's thinking: Turn Me, You Dipshit.

However... I imagine if Bella can't say the words out loud, Edward while panicked and in terror of losing her, won't do it. He will not condemn her to vampirism without her explicit consent.

Let's say Bella gurgles out, "Turn me, Edward"

Well, things just got a whole lot harder. This is now Bella's dying wish, she's looking at him even as the light fades out of her eyes, and he can see the growing resignation and disappointment in them. Edward will have this image with him forever, the life, light, and love bleeding out of Bella and her undoubtedly final thoughts that Edward was never worthy of her.

Honestly? Toss a coin.

I could see it going either way.

Edward stalls so long, deliberating, that the time for action passes. Bella dies right in front of him. That, or he sees her life force flickering and before he can think about it he bites her (whether to eat her or turn her we'll never truly know) and then it's too late, it's done, he's turned her himself. (If, of course, he doesn't accidentally kill her in the process).

The Aftermath

If he turns her then Edward will forever be haunted by the guilt that he destroyed Bella Swan. He turned her into a monster, just as he feared, and has condemned her to this miserable existence where she becomes orphaned from everything she knew.

Edward in this situation breaks things off with Bella (very awkward as they're part of the same coven now), he can't handle the guilt of what he did to her or what she now is. He thinks about mercy killing her, but given it's his own damn fault, is probably very conflicted and feels unworthy of taking even this action. All of this just makes him the lowest of worms.

Bella is utterly devastated that Edward appears to no longer love her (just as she suspected) and tries desperately to assure him that she loves being a vampire. She's finally comfortable in her own skin. She certainly still loves him and more, even if she wasn't happy, she gave her consent and would never hold that against him.

Edward doesn't care.

Edward likely goes to Rio to try to wrap his head around everything and be miserable by himself. Alice and Jasper likely leave on Alice's journey of self-discovery (but mostly to just avoid the emotional turmoil of the Cullen household). Rosalie actively blames Bella for this and tells her so to her face, Esme is an utter wreck, and Carlisle's working triple overtime at the hospital. Bella is even more devastated, she's Yoko Ono breaking apart the Beatles.

Bella offers to leave the Cullens. If she leaves then everything will go back to normal, right?

Everyone protests. But everyone here is pretty much Esme and Carlisle. But mostly Carlisle. Esme tries to, but it's in between sobs, where she talks about how beautiful Bella and Edward were AND THEY CAN WORK IT OUT. Emmett would, but Rosalie views Bella as a home wrecker and he has to side with the wife. Which just leaves Carlisle trying to lamely insist this isn't her fault.

It isn't, but, well, things are very bad right now.

Carlisle likely sets up Bella with the Denali. This ends after a few weeks, Bella can't handle the lifestyle and being the ugly brunette sister. Bella likely becomes a nomad and catches up with the Cullens every few years or so.

The 'Cullens' of course, becoming smaller and smaller each consecutive visit as the coven utterly dissolves.

The last time Bella visits, it's just Carlisle. Esme ran off to support Edward in Rio, Alice and Jasper never came back, and Rosalie and Emmett are on their 23rd honey-moon.

And that's how Bella rejoins the Cullens (i.e. Carlisle).

It's very awkward.

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #edward cullen #anti edward cullen #bella swan #edward/bella #anti edward/bella #carlisle cullen #esme cullen #rosalie hale #the cullens #meta #headcanon #opinion

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doyoungyoung · 3 years

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Summary: Never leave someone without telling them or simply you shouldn't have left doyoung alone

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: heavy angst

Doyoung and you had the relationship everyone wanted in their lifetime. You were so lucky to have him around you, were basically living with him, waiting for him to come back home from his work, and almost jumping on him when you see him. Everything was perfect, too perfect that it scared you. The fear that was keeping you awake at nights came true when you got a job and they wanted you to leave the country and go to America. The idea of being away from doyoung made you cry, you had your doubts but you never thought it will come so soon. Facing doyoung became difficult from that day, you cant even look in his eyes properly.

Doyoung works enough for both of you to have a good 2 bedroom flat for both of them but the problem was your parents. You have to give them money so they can survive. It was hard, exhausting, you are stuck with them forever even though you hated them but there was no way for you to get rid of them. The moment you told them you have to go to America, they were like

"Thats the best thing"

"Yeah now you can leave that rabbit dude"

This is why you hate them they dont care about your life they only care about your money.

There was only a week left before you have to go but you havent told doyoung it just couldn't come out of your mouth. You were scared to see how he will react, how angry he would be and that was ur most cruel thing you ever did.

D-day

You were super clingy with him knowing you have to leave him today for 2 years or more if they didnt let you go. The thing you were doing was absolutely wrong but still you didn't have to courage to say it loud

"Why you are so clingy today?" Doyoung ask while caressing ur hairs softly making u sleepy

"Just bcoz- wait do we really need a reason for cuddling?"

"No you dont i was just ask- " you didnt even let him complete his sentence and kissed him. He smiled in the kiss and wrapped your face in his hand and deepen the kiss. When you both were satisfied he broke it.

"Baby i will go now and buy the things you told me to okay wait for me i will be right back" he kissed ur forehead and went to our room to take his wallet. You watched his every step wanting to suck in all his beauty, his feature in your mind to keep the memory something you can think about when you will reach there.

Time went faster than you expected, after saying goodbyes and love yous he left. The nostalgic feeling you were feeling moments ago hitted you hard making you cry out loud in pain. Nothing like this would have happened if her parents were working so all the blame was on them. And then being away from doyoung was more hurtful. Maybe you did really bad things in ur past life that you are stuck in this situation. You put urself together and packed your things maybe taking away two three of his hoodies bcoz they give you the comfort like doyoung do. Everything was done under an hour, his arrival was close you changed your clothes, took a cab and was able to escape to the airport before he could come back.

Doyoung was happy. He bought all the stuff even though he was confused why will you even need it. He was thinking about u making him smile. You made him the happiest without doing a thing and he was ready to spend his whole life with you. He came back home, placing the stuff on the table and you werent there on the couch and it felt a bit empty he didnt knew why. He brushed off the awful feeling and moved to your room.

"Y/n where are you"

He opened the door and maybe he forgot how to breathe for a moment. Everything was out there was only a bed which was only used for sometimes or else u were sleeping with him. His heart was trying to tell him dont think that dont think that but it was so obvious he found a letter laying on now an uncovered bed, he slowly took it, scared to look at it.

Dear doie,

If u are reading this you might be back home and heartbroken after seeing i am not here. Doyoung it wasnt in my hand. You know how i have been helping my family for years now and still they struggle so i got a job opportunity in america and decided to take it. I know i made a very selfish decision but i hope you can understand why i took this path. I wish maybe we can be together when i get back from there i dont think it will take way too much so only i can wish. Its too much to ask right?? I shouldnt. Doyoung you are one of the best things that ever happened to me and i love you the most in this whole world. No one ever made me feel the things like you do and i hope you remember this. Btw i took 3 of your hoodies with me to have the same feeling i feel when i hug you i hope u dont mind that. I am sorry doyoung for doing what i did but please dont take anything on urself, you deserve much better person than me. U can find anyone if u want. In the end i just wanna say

I love you doyoung please stay safe and stay healthy <3

Doyoung eyes were filled with tears which was on the verge of falling down while reading the letter. He doesnt understand why you didnt told him. He may have understood you but now you were gone leaving him in the apartment which he tried so hard to earn just for the sake of them living together. At this point the tears made its way out of his eyes. His heart was hurting like someone just cut it open making a wound which he thinks is never gonna heal. He falls down on the down trying so hard not to scream it hurts it hurts more when you were his first love. The love which he tried so hard to keep but all his efforts went to waste when you left.

He pulled himself together after that day he spend all his time for 3 4 days in your room ,crying, screaming, hurting himself. He wasnt able to come out of this phase and accept the fact he lost you.

On the 5th day he woke up with dark circle under his eyes, ruffled hairs, smelly clothes bcoz he may have forgot to bath. He was feeling numb thought of you was out of this mind too fast for his liking but it felt nice for the first time in 4 days. Feelings weren't there he doesnt feel anything and doesnt even pay attention to it. He takes a bath, puts up some makeup to hide his dark circles and leaves the house for his office. He already was on a leave for 5 days and it may risk his job. He went there, worked and came back and he didnt knew when all the time passed by

5 years later

"Y/n boss is calling you" mark told her making her a bit confused on the sudden invitation. U entered his place kinda intimidated by the office layout. It was too dark for her liking but who can question his choice.

"Yes sir"

Jaehyun made you sit down on the chair in front of him

"So listen y/n you have been working here for 5 years now and i am really impressed by your work and i think your job is done here. I will allow you to go back to korea and i will talk to the boss their to get you on a higher post so dont worry about the salary"

The words leaving his mouth made you so happy that u almost jumped.

"Thank you sir i will moved out tom"

"Sure" he send me off giving me the cutest smile which everyone was a fan of.

Your stay in america was nice, you were given a place to live while working, you made some new friends which made you forget about doyoung for a bit but he never got out of ur heart like he sat in ur heart and never stood up. Living without him was more tough than you thought but now the suffering was gonna be over you can go back to your place back to him and now even your parents approved of him as the best guy for you because no one can take his place.

Next day

You were here, here in your hometown seoul which was one of the prettiest place for you. You were happy more happy than you were ever in the other country. You decided to visit the bridge you love the most that maybe be the place where doyoung first confessed to you. It holds a special pace in your heart so you made your way there.

The weather was a bit chilly but it was warm enough to roam around in a jacket. The trip to the bridge was beautiful. Night time in seoul is one of the most beautiful things you can encounter making your heart full. You reached the place and took all your sweet time to reach the top. You were about to reach it when you saw him.

You saw his broad shoulder he was wearing a black tshirt his jacket was in his hand. You can tell its doyoung by his hairstyle he never changes it. He was looking at the city which was lighted like Christmas. You stood there behind him observing how he was breathing slowly taking all the scenery in. But..... you didnt have to courage to face him. All of the sudden you were scared remembering how everything was ur mistake and maybe its very wrong to be back to him after hurting him for so long. U were busy with your own thoughts that you didnt realise him turning back and your eyes met. That moment felt like all the time in the world stopped. Everything stopped moving around them like it was only them in the world.

Doyoung in the past 5 years went through a lot. His job gave him a hard time but he worked hard getting promotions after promotions making him the manager in his company. It made it easy for him to buy a new home for himself in the expensive area of this town. He was living a good life now without worrying about anything. But seeing you there standing front of him felt like the wound he thought he closed 5 years ago opened up in broad nightlight. It hurts he forgot how things feels after you left. All the feelings he burried in that 5 days were back he wasnt sure if he was happy, angry, sad or everything at the same time. He was out of words. You were staring in his eyes with so much love that he might have melted away at that moment. You became more beautiful than how he was used to see you before. You looked matured like a business lady. It made his feel things after so long which he forget how it felt. It didnt last long when all the pain he went through those 5 years hitted him making him almost loose his balance. When u saw him looking a bit lost u decided to start the conversation

"Hey doyoung" hearing ur voice was too much for him he cant figure out how he feels he was confused he was hurt he was on the verge of crying again but he tried to maintain himself.

"Hi y/n" it felt right and wrong at the same time hearing your name again from his lips made you feel the butterflies again but it also felt painful at the same time. Before you can say anything he spoke

"Why are u back?" Fuck that hurts he said it with so much coldness. the eyes which was filled with emotions 2 seconds now were filled with hatred.

"B-bcoz i am done with my work there now i can have a better post here so they sent me back" u were suddenly nervous that you might trigger him or something.

"Good for you" he dropped the topic more quickly then it started.

" what about you?"

"I am a manager now at the same company"

"Congratulations doie your hard work paid off-"

"Dont call me doie" "you lost the right to do so"

His words were like a swords piercing through ur heart knowing u deserve it u deserve all of it. Doyoung saw it he saw ur eyes getting teary. He was mesmerized even though he hates you now from all his heart he still was in love with the same person who he confessed to on the same place they are standing rn. No one can take ur place even after trying a thousand times. He took ur wrist and pulled you closer. Your heartbeat increased at the dangerous speed like a teenager in love. You looked into his eyes you felt the love when you saw the same doyoung you loved 5 years ago.

You were about to say something when you felt his lips on yours. Your heart might have bursted in love. It felt so soft it was perfect, his lips moved with you pulling each other closer to feel what was missing for 5 years. U were crying between the kiss overwhelmed by the whole situation. He was the one who pulled back he kissed you for the one last time, and he got backed to his cold eyes which made you cry harder. He whipped your tears away and walked a little far from you.

"One day we will meet again y/n. i am leaving u here. I loved you the most y/n and u still decided to do all of this leaving me to suffer. Lets hope we wont meet again bcoz if we did idk if i will make u suffer like you did to me or will give u all the love we both missed in 5 years. So dont ever try to find me again bcoz the wound you made will never be healed"

And he walked away.

#doyoung #doyoung imagines #doyoung x reader #doyoung scenarios #nct #nct oneshot #nct doyoung #nct 127 #nct drabbles #nct jaehyun #jaehyun #mark lee #nct mark #nct smut #nct angst #angst

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threecrowsinatrenchcoat · 3 years

Text

Plant Your Hope With Good Seeds

Dukeceit Week Day 3: Snakes/Bugs

Remus and Janus break up. But literally everyone knows that's not what they want. Everyone, including their plants.

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 4337

Warnings: n/a

@dukeceitweek <3

Unknown Number

hey so i kno i said i wouldnt text u but rupert isnt doin good. can i bring him back? he misses u

Janus stared at the text for several minutes. Rupert was, of course, the Monstera Variegata that he and Remus had raised together all the way from propagation. It had been one of the pride and joys of their plant collection. Losing Rupert in the split had hurt almost as much as losing Remus.

...Almost.

Janus

Is it getting enough light? Remember it needed the grow light even next to the window.

Janus texted back against his better judgement. He and Remus were broken up. They’d agreed not to text for a while. They’d agreed to give each other space, get used to being apart.

It sucked, though. The apartment felt empty without Remus and half their plant collection.

Unknown Number

ya i kno. but i don’t have any south facign windows here. our place is better

Unknown Number

i mean ur place

Janus sighed morosely. Well, if it was for Rupert…

Janus

Fine. Rupert can come back.

Unknown Number

yay! ill be in town this weekend. ill bring him ok?

Janus

Ok.

And then Janus promptly threw his phone across the room.

Because here’s the thing. Janus and Remus were broken up. Remus had moved eight hours away and everything. He’d been accepted into the Nuclear Engineering graduate program a state away, and they had both heard too many horror stories about long-distance relationships to brother trying. So they’d had a very civil and mutual split. Janus kept the apartment. Remus took the TV. And they’d divided their plant family between them: they each kept their favorites, and Remus had taken the hardier plants, while Janus kept the ones that were likely not to survive an interstate move.

And then… Remus left.

And Janus had not immediately wanted him back. Not at all.

(And, of course, Janus was lying to himself.)

Remus texted him Saturday morning that he was on his way, and Janus spent the first few hours of the wait stress-cleaning. He then checked on every single plant in the apartment. Watered the ones that needed it. Rotated some of the more vivacious growers so that they wouldn’t lean full-body toward their light source. Moved his small army of Sansevierias out to the apartment balcony for some extra sun.

Then, when all that still failed to fill up the entire eight hours of waiting, he started stress-cooking. So by the time Remus texted that he’d just gotten off the highway, Janus had himself a pot of minestrone soup simmering on the stove, a tray of made-from-scratch lasagna in the oven, and was mixing up a batch of double chocolate chip cookies.

There was no way he was going to eat all this food himself, he realized. He was so used to booking big meals like this, because Remus ate like he was three people. And lasagna was his favorite.

“Oh, Jake, what am I doing?” he groaned to the N’Joy Pothos that cascaded down the side of the refrigerator. And then his doorbell rang.

Janus opened the door to find Remus, dancing awkwardly from foot to foot, with his face half-hidden behind the green-and-white leaves of Rupert.

“...Hey,” Remus said, sounding sheepish. Janus’ heart clenched.

“Hi,” he said. They stood there in the doorway for a full minute before Janus stepped back and motioned for Remus to follow. Remus hesitated, but obeyed.

“Uh… I’ll just…” Remus looked around. Janus hated how uncomfortable he looked. Until about two weeks ago, this had been Remus’ apartment, too. “Can I put him in his old spot?”

“Sure,” Janus replied with a nod. Rupert’s old spot had been in the bedroom, where the big, beautiful south-facing window let in a ton of light. He’d moved Venus de Milos, his Marble Queen Pothos, and La Hoya Jackson, the finicky Hoya Carnosa that Remus had wanted but didn’t expect to make the 8-hour drive without going into shock, to free up Rupert’s spot. Remus hesitated again, before he nodded awkwardly and wandered off to the bedroom, all three feet of plant and two gallons of soil in tow. Janus went to the oven and took out the lasagna.

“Howl looks good,” Remus said when he came back into the kitchen. Janus glanced up from where he was laying balls of cookie dough out onto baking sheets.

“Thank you,” he replied. Howl was their dramatic fiddle leaf fig tree, which had decided to throw a fit just before Remus left. “I switched it to a terracotta pot with peat moss and pearlite, and doubled its water intake. It seems to be tolerating it well.”

“Good.” There was a long pause. Then,” How are you?”

Janus looked back to the cookies. “I’m doing well,” he lied. “And you? Do you start class soon?”

“Next week,” Remus answered. “And, uh. Yeah, I’m doin’ good.” Another long pause. “Uh… I’ll just. Head out, I guess.”

“You could stay,” Janus blurted out. Shit. “For dinner, I mean.” He gestured to the tray of lasagna, fresh from the oven. “If you want.”

Remus gave him an uncharacteristically shy smile, then nodded slowly. He didn’t say anything, though, so Janus just gestured for him to take a seat at the table. And then he joined him, a plate of lasagna for each of them.

“So tell me, how’s living with Roman again?” Janus asked, a few bites into the meal, because he could not take the awkward silence a moment longer.

“It’s ok,” Remus answered. He shoveled another forkful of lasagna into his mouth. “This is really good, Jan.”

Janus smiled softly. “Thank you.” A pause. “Roman doesn’t mind all the plants?”

“Nah, he’s dating this guy Patton who apparently loves plants, so the apartment being full of houseplants is a huge plus to him now.”

“Good for him.” The oven timer went off, startling him slightly. He started to get up, but Remus waved him off.

“I got ‘em, you did all the cooking.”

Janus didn’t protest. Remus got up and took the cookies out of the oven. And he even moved them to a cooling rack like Janus had taught him to do. He came back to the table.

“How’s work?”

Janus sighed. “Oh, terrible as always,” he answered. “I really must start looking for a new job.”

“Finally getting fed up?” Remus teased. Janus rolled his eyes. More seriously, Remus continued, “You deserve better, Jan. You gotta find some place that treats you right and pays you what you’re worth.”

“Thank you, Remus.”

“And hey, just sayin’, I still think you’d make an excellent stripper.”

Janus snorted at that. “I haven’t fully ruled out that particular career change.”

They fell easily back into their usual banter, lingering late into the night over a dessert of milk and cookies. It was pushing 10pm when Remus glanced at his phone and cursed softly. Janus glanced at his phone as well.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so late,” he said. Remus shrugged.

“Nah, it’s cool. Thanks for dinner, Jan. It was real good, as always.”

“Where are you staying?”

“Uh… well, the plan was to stay with Logan, but I guess he had some kind of family emergency, so I don’t wanna trouble him. I’ll probably see if I can find a hotel room.”

Janus’ brow furrowed at that. “Why don’t you just stay here?”

“Oh, uh. I don’t wanna trouble you. I kinda feel like I already overstayed my welcome a bit?”

“Nonsense. A hotel room will cost you at least $100 for the night, and that’s simply ridiculous,” Janus insisted. “You should just stay here.”

Remus worried at his lip, which Janus knew meant he was mulling over his options. Then, he nodded. “If it’s not a bother?”

“Of course not. You’re not a bother, Remus.”

Remus’ eyes softened, and he smiled. “Ok. Thank you. Oh… lemmie go get my overnight back outta my truck.”

When Remus came back inside, Janus had just about finished making up the couch.

“Hey, you don’t gotta get all fancy,” Remus teased. “You know I can sleep basically anywhere.”

“This is for me,” Janus replied. He fluffed up one of the pillows a bit more. “You take the bed.”

An odd look flashed across Remus’ face. “No way, Jan. I’m good on the couch.”

“Remus, you just drove eight hours, and you’re doing it again tomorrow. I am not letting you fuck up your back.”

‘I don’t-”

“Yes you do, no matter how often you say you can sleep anywhere,” Janus scoffed. “You can’t lie to me.”

Remus’ eyes softened, and after a moment, he sighed. “Ok, Jan. But what about you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You hate sleeping on couches.”

“It’s only one night-”

“And don’t you work tomorrow?”

“Yes, but-”

“You’re going to be so grumpy at work without a proper night’s sleep.”

“I’m usually grumpy at work anyway,” Janus pointed out. Remus snorted.

“Ok, that’s true. But I don’t want you to be even grumpier,” he said. “Let’s just share the bed.”

Janus eyed him for a moment. This was a terrible idea. They should not do this.

“Ok,” Janus said anyway.

They got ready for bed in awkward silence, which just made Janus miss Remus’ long, rambling chatter that much more. When Janus finished in the bathroom, he found Remus sitting gingerly on what used to be his side of the bed. Janus came over and sat down on the other side.

“Hey, uh… thanks,” Remus said. “For lettin’ me stay.”

“Of course,” Janus answered. “I… I still think of you as a friend, Remus.”

At that. Remus grimaced slightly. He didn’t say anything, seeming unable to find the right words. Before he could, Janus pulled back the top blankets on the bed and laid down. After a moment, Remus did the same.

“Good night, Remus,” Janus said quietly.

“...Good night, Janus,” Remus answered. Then he reached over and shut off the light.

Remus played that night over and over in his head in the days after he got home, and each and every time, he was just as stumped.

He knew, in his brain, why he and Janus had broken up. It had been the only thing that made sense at the time, when the facts were just that Remus was moving away to pursue a lifelong dream, and Janus would never ever try to stop him from doing so. So they broke up. It made sense… right?

But… That morning, he’d woken up to Janus curled up in his arms, face smushed against Remus’ neck, and… Remus had completely forgotten why they had even broken up in the first place.

Remus was back at Roman’s apartment, now. Eight hours away in his own cold bed, arms empty of the man he loved, just staring at the ceiling. A sharp knock on his door snapped him out of his daze.

“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty,” Roman called. “Don’t you have class in like an hour?”

“Fuck!” Remus scrambled to get up, but succeeded only in rolling out of the bed.

“Don’t forget to lock the door when you leave,” Roman added. Clearly he was unconcerned by the loud “thump” of a body hitting the floor.

“Yup, got it,” Remus groaned in reply. He staggered, successfully this time, to his feet.

Getting dressed was a rushed affair of ‘grab whatever’s closest,’ and soon he emerged from the bedroom with one shoe on, the other in his hand, and his backpack slung over one shoulder. He rushed into the kitchen to grab the travel mug of coffee Janus always set out for him in the mornings. And then the realization hit: Janus didn’t live here.

Remus dropped his shoe.

The rest of the day went about as well as it could have gone without any coffee- that is to say, terribly. He got lost trying to get to campus, then he got lost again trying to get to class. Then he got stuck in traffic on the way back to Roman’s apartment. And then, to top it all off, the grocery store had been out of his favorite chips.

So here he was, mopey and chip-less, and fucking exhausted. He dumped his backpack and collapsed face-first onto the couch. Roman, who happened to be sitting on said couch, made a noise of protest.

“Move, I need to sulk,” Remus mumbled, though his voice was thoroughly muffled by Roman’s thigh, since that was where his face had landed.

“What on earth do you need to sulk for?” Roman asked incredulously. He moved to shove Remus off of him, but Remus went full ragdoll, and Roman couldn’t do a damn thing. “You are a grown man, you know.”

Remus turned his head just enough to stick his tongue out at Roman. Roman stuck his tongue out back.

“I had a terrible day, I earned a good sulk.”

“Didn’t like your classes?”

“Nah, they were great.”

“Professors?”

“Great.”

“Classmates?”

“Great.”

“Then Zeus Almighty, what are you so mopey-dopey about?” Roman remanded.

Remus squirmed around so he was laying on his back, head still in Roman’s lap, to look up at his brother. “So… uh… you promise not to get all, like. I told you so and shit?”

“You miss Janus!”

“No! I-”

“You do!” Roman crowed triumphantly. Remus rolled onto his side so he didn’t have to look at his brother’s dumb gloaty face.

“...Maybe,” he groaned. Abruptly, he clamored to his feet and started for the stairs. “I gotta go build a chair.”

“Carpentry won’t solve your relationship problems,” Roman called after him.

“I know,” Remus called back. “Wrong type of wood.” If Roman had a response to that, Remus was already out the door and didn’t have to hear it.

Patton found him out in front of the apartment building some time later, a jigsaw in hand, and a pile of cut wooden dowels at his feet.

“Hey, kiddo, what are you up to?”

Remus looked up from where he was balancing a plank of wood precariously across a milk crate, because his work table was one of the things he’d had to leave behind at Janus’ place.

“Oh, hey. Ro-bro’s upstairs.”

Patton gave him the sort of smile teachers gave to the kid they caught eating glue for the fourth time. “That doesn’t look super safe. Do you want any help?”

Remus took in Patton’s soft blue sweater and the dad-jeans from the nicer end of his closet, as well as the reusable grocery store bag that smelled suspiciously like some kind of lovely home-cooked meal; he shook his head. “You look dressed for a date night,” he said. “I don’t wanna fuck up two relationships this week.”

Patton’s eyes, impossibly, got even bigger and softer than they normally were, which honestly was quite the feat. He walked over to the stairs but, instead of making his way up to Roman’s apartment, he plopped down on the third step, facing Remus. Remus stared, bewildered.

“Uh, what’chu doin’ there, pops?”

“Well, it just sounded like you needed to talk,” Patton replied cheerfully. “So here I am.”

Remus stared a moment longer, somehow even more bewildered than before. “Uh…”

“I know I haven’t known you very long,” Patton continued. “But something tells me you’re the type of person who busts out the power tools when you’re upset.”

“How the hell can you tell that?”

Patton glanced over his shoulder, then leaned forward slightly. “Because,” he said, voice lowered conspiratorially. “I’m like that too.”

Remus blinked. “You?”

“Yup! I replaced all the tables and chairs in my house with ones I made myself after my last breakup,” Patton giggled. “Only two of them collapsed when I sat in them, too!”

Remus glanced down at the jigsaw in his hands, and then he sighed. He set it down, and went to sit next to Patton on the steps.

“Ok, well. Yeah, maybe I’m kinda upset.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yeah? No? Maybe?”

“Yup, those are your three options!” Patton teased. Remus rolled his eyes.

“Ok, fine. You win, daddy-o. I’m upset because I miss my boyfriend. Or, well, my ex-boyfriend. I want him to be my boyfriend again.”

“Have you told him that?”

“Of course not,” Remus whined.

“Why not?”

“Because… I mean. It wouldn’t change anything. I still moved away. And I don’t even know if he’d want to be my boyfriend again either. Maybe he’s happier now.”

“You don’t know that,” Patton said gently. “Sure, maybe the circumstances aren’t the best right now, but if you both want it, things have a funny way of working out. But you have to talk to him.”

“I…” Remus paused. And then he sighed deeply. “I guess you’re right. Hey thanks, that did actually sorta help.”

Patton offered him a gentle smile. “Of course, Remus! Any time!”

“Hey!”

They both turned to see Roman standing at the top of the stairs, arms crossed.

“My own brother, hogging my boyfriend like this! The betrayal-”

“Relax, Ro, he’s not my type,” Remus shot back. “I prefer sarcastic little menaces.”

Patton giggled at that. He stood up and patted Remus on the shoulder. “I hope things work out,” he said. Remus smiled back.

“Yeah, I hope so too.”

Really, he just wanted Janus to be happy. Ideally with him, but if Janus was happier without him, well… so be it.

- - -

Janus was miserable.

“Dude, c’mon,” Virgil grumbled, immediately upon seeing the state of the apartment. “You’ve been watering your plants and filling the humidifiers, but you can’t be bothered to throw out your gross pizza boxes?” A pause. “Wait, you don’t even like pizza, what the hell.”

Janus just shrugged. After letting Virgil and Logan into the apartment, he’d gone straight back into blanket-burrito-on-the-couch mode. And really, he’d only bothered to get up and let them inside in the first place because Virgil had threatened to axe down the door- and Janus knew for a fact that Virgil owned multiple axes.

“I believe he is engaging in what is described as ‘emotional eating,’ or using food as a coping mechanism in a time of stress and emotional turmoil,” Logan said helpfully. Virgil just huffed.

“That’s fine and all, but Jesus Christ, dude.” He gestured around the livingroom where… ok, yeah, it was a mess.

“Did you two come here just to insult me?” Janus grumbled. His face was half-mashed into a pillow, though, so who knows how much of that was actually discernible.

“We came to make sure you were still alive,” Virgil snapped, indicating that at least most of what Janus had said was discernible. “You weren’t answering any texts.”

“Yes, and you called out of work three days in a row,” Logan added. “We are concerned for you, Janus.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Janus lied from the comfort of his depression blanket burrito. He was not particularly surprised when neither Virgil or Logan looked even remotely convinced.

“Alright, drastic measure time,” Virgil growled. He walked over to the window, and picked up the young Burgundy Rubber Tree Janus had yet to name. Janus sat bolt upright.

“Virgil? Don’t you dare-”

Virgil walked past him and vanished down the hall. When he came back, his hands were empty, and he had a smirk on his face.

“Oh, fuck you,” Janus hissed. He dragged himself up off the couch to go rescue the poor thing, finding it stashed in the dark, windowless bathroom. When he came back to the livingroom, Virgil and Logan were sprawled across the couch.

“Ha ha, very funny.” Janus set the rubber tree back on the windowsill alongside the Snake Plant Army. “Ok, I’m up. Are you heathens happy now?”

“I take offense to that,” Logan muttered, while Virgil just crossed his arms and said, curtly, “Spill it.”

“Spill what?”

“Why are you so upset?”

“I’m not upset-”

“Falsehood,” Logan interrupted. “I have known you since high school, Janus, and I have never seen you like this before. It is highly alarming.”

“Is this about Remus?” Virgil asked.

“No,” Janus said immediately. “Of course not.”

Virgil and Logan exchanged a Look. Janus groaned.

“Fuck. Ok, fine. Maybe it is.”

“Was that so hard?” Virgil asked.

“Yes.”

“You-”

“Janus,” Logan interrupted Virgil’s retort. “It is my understanding that emotional distress is often alleviated through, as they say, ‘talking it out.’ It is clear you are not handling the break-up as well as you initially believed-”

“Of course I’m not!” Janus snapped. He took a deep breath, and turned back to the plants on his windowsill. Kaa, the Sansevieria Moonshine Remus had gotten for Janus as an anniversary present last year, was already leaning slightly toward the window again. He rotated it, and a few of the other snake plants on the sill. And then he realized the others had been quiet for far too long. He turned to find them both watching him with sympathetic expressions. “What?”

“Keep going,” Virgil prompted. Janus sighed. He felt exhausted.

“Of course I’m not,” he said again. “Because I love Remus.”

“And?” Virgil prompted.

“...And I didn’t want us to break up,” he finished, feeling glum. Wordlessly, Virgil stood up, and approached Janus, arms out. Janus stepped into the embrace. Nobody said anything; Janus didn’t cry, but he stood there for a long time. Then, he stepped back.

“Thank you,” he said, and he meant it. Virgil gave him a small smile. Logan cocked his head, seeming confused.

“I don’t understand. You just… needed a hug?”

“Hugs are great, Logan,” Virgil replied. “You should try them sometime- hey, where are you going?”

Janus strode past them both, beelining for his bedroom to find his laptop. Over his shoulder, he answered, “To fill out some job applications.”

- - -

Remus was outside building a new bookshelf- because Patton was moving in, and Roman's teenie-tiny sad little excuse for a bookshelf, which held only Disney DVDs and no actual books, wouldn’t suffice for all of Patton’s cookbooks- when his phone rang. Which was weird, because nobody ever called him, because he never fucking answered.

“Not interested, Mr. Spam Man,” he crooned over the sound of the generic iPhone ringtone. He was learning how to do kerf bending for this bookcase, and goddamn it he wasn’t going to be distracted by-

His phone started ringing again. He swore and ripped off his gloves to silence his phone. But as he did so, he realized the number flashing across his screen was a familiar one.

“Janus? Are you ok?” he answered the call, half panicked, because Janus hated phone calls almost as much as he did.

“Hi. Yes, everything’s fine.” Janus sounded slightly hysterical, which made Remus feel even more frantic. “Where are you?”

“I’m at Roman’s. Are you sure you’re ok-”

“Great, don’t leave. I’ll be right there.”

“What does that mean-” Remus demanded, but the line was already dead. Remus swore again. He briefly considered calling him back, because what the actual fuck was that all about, but he was only about 30 seconds into that brief consideration before a familiar car tearing through the apartment complex parking lot caught his attention. He quickly brushed as much of the sawdust off his clothes as he could because holy shit Janus had just parked right there in front of Roman’s apartment.

Remus watched, dumbfounded, as Janus scrambled out of his car- dressed in his very nice black suit and pale yellow button-up- and came running across the lawn toward where Remus was working. He had a tiny plant clutched to his chest.

“Uh, Jan, you good?” Remus asked. Janus stopped in front of him and doubled over, breathless, for a few moments. Then, he straightened up, and fixed Remus with a look of sheer determination.

“Remus. I want to get back together.”

Remus’ heart, the traitorous bastard, leaped up into his throat and blocked all his words from coming out.

“It’s… it’s ok if you don’t want that,” Janus continued. His look of determination faltered slightly. “It’s ok. But I needed to tell you. Because I love you, so much. And I… I didn’t want you to think I didn’t, even if you don't-”

Remus found his words abruptly. “Jan, fuck! I do! I do love you. I never stopped loving you. All I want is to be with you.”

Janus’ eyes softened. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Good, because I’ve just been offered a job here.”

Remus choked. Janus was eyeing him smugly. “You. Just like that, you got a job here?”

“Just like that,” Janus grinned. “I just came from the interview. They offered me a position on the spot.”

Remus couldn't help himself any longer. He lurched forward and pulled Janus tightly into his arms.

“Hey, be careful,” Janus said, though he made absolutely no effort to get out of Remus’ embrace. “You’ll crush our new son.”

Remus pulled back just enough to look at the small plant Janus held in his hands, and only then did his brain register what it was.

“Is! Is that-”

“Yes,” Janus replied, holding up the tiny Drosera Capensis seedling. Remus had wanted one of these for ages.

“For me?”

“Well, for us, ideally,” Janus answered, with a shy smile. “But, mostly for you, yes.”

Remus gently plucked the baby octopus plant- their new son!- from Janus’ hands, and placed it carefully on top of the milk crate that was serving as his carpentry workbench. Then, he hoisted Janus up off the ground and spun him around.

“Oh- Re-” Janus exclaimed, though he was laughing. “Put me down!”

“No!” Remus trilled. He spun Janus around once more. Then he just stood there, holding Janus, gazing up at him. Janus’ eyes grew soft. Slowly, he carded his fingers through Remus’ hair.

“Hey,” Janus said.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Remus set Janus down, but kept his arms still wrapped tightly around him. His heart felt warm.

“Hey.”

Janus looked up at him. “Yeah?”

“I love you, too.”

#dukeceit #dukeceitweek #remus sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #kye writes

42 notes · View notes

breynekai-tfc · 3 years

Text

Number One Fan

Summary: Danny is injured during a ghost fight one night. Dash finds him, takes him home, and nurses him back to health.

Length: 7081 words

Part 2

Basically some meandering interactions between Dash and Phantom, with hints toward a one-sided attraction on Dash’s part. This is a two-shot; the second half will be up tomorrow.

Read on FF.net, AO3, or keep reading below.

He sucked up the puddle of arachnid into a Fenton Thermos. Holes littered the lawn around him where its feet had sunk into the spring soil, muddy and loose from three days’ worth of constant drizzle. ‘British weather’, his mom would have called it. Even now a light mist - heavier than fog but not substantial enough to be called rain - floated through the air. It had already coated Danny’s hair, face, and suit in a thin layer of condensation. The water ran over his face like sweat.

He was exhausted. If he had needed to breathe, he would have been panting. If he’d had a pulse, it would have been racing. Instead, his core ached dully, complaining of the expenditure of energy. His aura was not as bright as it should have been on this dark, misty, overcast night. Normally he would have been a beacon; right now he probably blended into his surroundings, giving off no more light than a will-o-the-wisp in a murky swamp.

And still, it wasn’t over.

After defeating a ghost and containing it in a Thermos, any ectoplasmic waste or byproducts it left behind should disintegrate and vanish. The Thermos completely sealed ectoenergy, thereby cutting off the core from any parts remaining in the world. But the Amity Park Public Library was still covered in a purple, pulsing tent of ghostly webbing.

Geez, he hoped there wasn’t another one.

Danny eyed the building. He wasn’t sure how long it had been sequestered like this. Presumably not much longer than it had taken for his ghost sense to explode out of his cold core, jolting him awake, and for him to race in the direction it pointed him. Five minutes later, he had discovered the library and the Godzilla-scale spider crouching on top of it.

He had no idea what time it was. He hadn’t checked the clock before flying off into the night.

It had been about eleven when he wrapped up his patrol earlier - a patrol which, ironically, had been entirely quiet. Goes to show what happens when you skimp on security duties because of bad weather, some mild discomfort from having to fly through a neverending curtain of damp. He wondered if he had stayed out a little longer if he could have intercepted the spider before it nested. Ghosts often tended to get a lot stronger when they were allowed to accomplish their objectives, drawing energy from the sheer satisfaction of fulfilling an obsession. Who knew how long it had been working before its sudden power boost triggered Danny’s ghost sense?

Danny squinted through the drizzle at the cloud cover, barely making out the position of the moon. Maybe three o’clock or after? He wasn’t sure how long it had taken him to beat the hairy, eight-legged behemoth. The fight had been tedious and drained his strength, but in all likelihood was shorter than it had felt.

He wasn’t sure he had actually defeated it.

His core twinging, he forced himself back into the air and drifted across the ruined lawn, across the parking lot, and to the side of the building. A feeling of unease filled him as he drew closer, the product of psychological wards woven into the strands of spider silk to scare away predators. Ignoring the way his core clenched and his skin crawled, Danny grit his teeth, turned intangible, and phased through the protective layer of webbing.

Inside, the dread atmosphere was even more overwhelming, hanging in the air like a miasma. Webbing draped over every surface and hung from the ceiling in loops and clumps, glowing a sickly shade of violet. It provided the only light in the building, and Danny’s own silver aura barely reflected back to him.

After nearly three years of being dead and fighting ghosts on a daily basis, Danny was rarely unnerved by the things he saw. But this was spooky, even to him. He shrugged and shook out his shoulders and arms, chalking up his feelings of trepidation to basic survival instincts, which were good things. He was tired, and his body knew it, and it was just sending signals to his brain to be careful. This was not actually all that frightening. Nope. Not frightening at all.

Danny floated further into the building, senses on high alert. The webbing stretched on and on, but nowhere did Danny see a creature who could have spun it. This was surely the work of the larger arachnid he had fought outside… right?

Danny reached the central help desk. It was a small unit of furniture - a U-shaped table, return bin, filing cabinets, and several computers with the library catalog system, all sitting in the middle of a wide and open space of carpet at the hub of the fiction and reference shelves. As Danny drifted towards it, he was so focused on looking and listening for an enemy on all sides that he floated straight into a web. Unlike the thick, goopy strands coating the rest of the building, this was a delicately woven oval suspended between the floor and ceiling. The kind of webs spiders built for catching prey.

He yelped and flung himself backwards, but the web followed him, snared him, snapped back into place with Danny still firmly attached to it. The webbing clung to his face, filling his eyes with violet light, inciting panic. He pulled at his arms, frantic to wipe the strands from his face, get them off of his body, but nothing was moving, he couldn’t budge, he was stuck, like a fly, and what did spiders do to flies…?

The realization of his own stupidity struck him like a slap in the face, and a split second later, he was intangible and shooting backwards, arms pinwheeling as he forced himself to a mid-air stop - before he blindly landed himself in a similar trap, or before he decided to phase through the roof of the building, call it a night, let another ghost hunter deal with this.

He wasn’t allowed to do that.

The leaden weights of responsibility wrapped around his body, draining the blind panic and replacing it with lucid determination. If Valerie or his parents were hurt because of some mess he failed to resolve, if one of them died, he would never be able to forgive himself, would never be able to claim the mantle of hero for the rest of his half-life. That reality was much more frightening than anything a ghost could throw at him.

As he centered himself, Danny noticed that the web he had just extracted himself from was vibrating, humming tautly, shivering from floor to ceiling. His eyes followed the anchoring strands of the web upwards. He groaned, and everything suddenly made sense.

On the ceiling, stretching from one wall to another and looking like a scene out of Femalien, were eggs, a hundred of them, violent purple and struck through by glowing green fissures like ichor. The spider he had faced outside of the library must have been their mother, and her objective had been finding a safe place to nest and lay her eggs. Having accomplished that, she was at her most ferocious when a certain human-ghost hybrid had shown up to threaten her children.

Danny had vaguely known that ghosts could reproduce - how else could he explain Box Lunch? But if this was seeing the miracle of ghost life in action, it was nothing he ever wished to see again.

The trembles from the web rippled through the eggs on the high ceiling of the library. First in the middle, expanding outwards in waves, the eggs began to wobble, began to crack with sharp snaps of verdant light. As he watched the first legs begin to poke through purple membranes, Danny realized why the oval-shaped web had been created. It would trap prey, and in thrashing for escape, whatever unfortunate creature (or person) was snared in the web would be ringing a dinner bell, telling the babies that it was time to wake up and have some breakfast.

The first of the brood had breached their cells and were dropping onto the floor. Deep black in color, struck through by ectoplasmic green striations, they were the size of large dogs, and they were fast. As soon as their myriad eyes found Danny, they began to leap at him.

Crying out, Danny flung up an ectoplasmic energy shield. The newborn spiders slammed into it, causing the shield to flare and for Danny’s core to tighten painfully. The shield broke within seconds, and the rush of arachnids slammed into him, knocking him to the floor.

Danny saw legs, flashes of black eyes with verdance burning deep within, and then pain like acid burst against his right shoulder, his stomach, his left leg. He screamed, feeling the bright acidic energy flowing into him, burning him from the inside as it bloomed across and underneath his skin. Distantly, he felt something soft drifting over him, light as snowfall but as firm as steel cables. It crossed his bleary vision, sickly purple.

The weights on his chest, his arms, his legs, were abruptly flung off of him. He was left staring at the ceiling, where spiders continued to crack their eggs and fall to the ground, but he could hear their hissing voices, impacts, sounds of tearing, squeals of pain, splashes of ectoplasm on carpet. The spider brood was fighting. Apparently there wasn’t enough of him to go around.

Danny could not move. His thoughts were blasted with hot green pain, eating through his limbs and leaving cold numbness in its wake. He knew he had been bitten, repeatedly. This was poison. His enemies were fighting for the chance to devour him. And he could not move.

The deadly, acidic pain trickled down from his shoulder and up from his stomach and danced around his core, which stubbornly burned it away. If not his body, at least his essence was refusing to go down without a fight.

The realization that he was going to die, really die, eaten alive and entirely helpless to do anything about it, galvanized him. He grunted, a strangled sound from deep in his chest. Then Danny pushed at his core. He had no confidence that he would be able to move his limbs to do a damned thing, but if his core was fighting, he would use it as his best asset. He concentrated on it with a singular intensity, blocking out the squall of the hungry spiders, blocking out his pain, willing his core to expand, explode if it needed to.

A different but familiar type of cold rushed through him. A split-second later, a blizzard burst from his awakened cold core, howling through the room and freezing everything in its path. It hit the walls and ceiling and windows, shrieking, and died away. In its wake - silence, like a winter’s night under a blanket of snow.

Icy energy crackled over his skin, momentarily halting the spread of the venom. Danny wanted nothing more than to close his eyes, succumb to the cold numbness of poison and frost. But the spiders weren’t gone, and the next prey they sought would be outside of the library with no weapons to defend themselves. This was a horde that could kill a town. Danny had to protect them.

With a Herculean effort, Danny sat up. The webbing laced over his body crackled and splintered to pieces. The room around him had been transformed into a glimpse of a modern-day Ice Age. Thick, supernaturally blue ice coated the library’s every surface, the spiders and their webs only barely visible in its bright but murky depths. Danny concentrated on moving his right hand, but it was entirely numb and dead to him. He switched to his left, fumbling for the Thermos that hung on his right side. He pulled the strap across his chest until the Thermos was sitting in his lap, wedged between his thighs for support. He unscrewed the lid, lifted it with one hand, braced it against his chest, and hit the button.

Blue light swirled from the softly whirring device, but with no target in its path, it simply dissipated into the air. Frowning, Danny channeled some of his own depleted power into the Thermos to influence its behavior. The light began to do what he wanted. It condensed above the checkout desk in a bright orb. Like a black hole, it began to absorb the ectoplasmic energy around it. Ice, webbing, spiders, everything ghostly in the room began cracking apart and flying into the focal point of the power, which in turn compacted and channeled the energy into the containment device. Danny felt it tugging on even him, but because of the nature of the energy fueling it, he was not swept up in the maelstrom of deconstruction.

No more than a minute later, the room was cleared. Danny snapped the lid back on the Thermos, and everything went dark. Without the ice or webbing, there was little to illuminate the library. After a few seconds, as his eyes adjusted, the room clarified under the soft orange glow of the street lamps outside.

Danny’s core felt like stretched taffy, or a threadbare cloth. It felt like if he were to exert any more pressure on it, it would snap or implode in on itself. Danny was surprised he hadn’t reverted to his human form yet.

He glanced down at himself. He couldn’t see the bite on his shoulder, but he could see the ones on his abdomen and his left leg. Four punctures, holes left in his jumpsuit, roughly the size of nickels. They oozed something green, which Danny might have mistaken for his own ectoplasm if not for the fetid feeling the ooze gave off. Danny wasn’t sure what the poison would do to him, if it was meant to paralyze him or kill him or turn his insides into goo. Already it was fighting his cold core to continue its inextricable path through his body.

A certainty settled over Danny, based on no evidence but his own gut feelings: if he returned to human form, with this poison coursing through him, it would be the end of him.

Sick with dread, Danny fell forward, planting his left arm against the floor, dragging his right leg underneath him, pushing to standing. He nearly toppled over again. His left leg from the knee down was numb, and it barely supported his weight. Danny only managed to walk by rocking onto it and back to his right leg before his knee had the chance to buckle. He did not dare fly.

Danny reached the door and opened it by hand. The webbing that had covered the building earlier was gone, destroyed with the capture of the spider brood. Dazed, Danny hobbled into the parking lot and across the lawn.

He had to get home to Fentonworks. His parents would have something in their lab that could get him through this, preserve his ghost half long enough for it to fight off the poison. Maybe, if he gave himself an injection of purified ectoplasm it would bolster the energy in his core, or maybe he could just toss himself into the Ghost Zone and absorb the atmospheric ectoenergy there.

He had to get home.

He had to walk there.

How many miles was it?

Danny stumbled down the sidewalk in a haze of existential terror and pain. The poison had begun to sludge through him again, climbing his thigh, spreading across his back, filling his chest. He began to feel light-headed, and the edges of his vision were filling with shadows. His feet jerked him forward numbly, but he had no perception of actually moving.

His left knee buckled, and Danny fell to the ground. He tried to catch himself with his hands, but they didn’t respond to the commands from his brain. His chin throbbed dully where it hit concrete.

Danny lay with his chest against the ground, arms limp at his sides, face turned toward the grass. Moisture pooled in his eyes and trickled out of the corners. If he’d had the energy for it, he might have been sobbing. But his upper body was numb, and so was most of the rest of him. Cotton wrapped around his head.

He was dimly aware of sounds: the crunch of tires over asphalt, the slamming of a car door, a shout. His body was turned over, presumably by a person. Danny’s vision was too full of shadows to see who it was.

After that, there was nothing.

---------

Dash had woken to the sound of his PhanClub Ghost Spotters app shouting, “I am the Box Ghost! Beware!”

Blearily, he grabbed his phone off the bedside table and swiped to unlock it. His eyes scanned the notification, picking out key words: public library, giant spider, literally it’s as big as a house, level 5 apparition or higher. It was 2:36 a.m.

Dash groaned, letting the hand holding his phone drop onto the mattress next to his pillow. He was too tired to deal with a fucking ghost spider halfway across town. He had school tomorrow, and besides that, it was a fucking ghost spider. He had no plans of being eaten.

He was nearly back to sleep when his phone nagged him again. “I am the Box Ghost! Beware!” Against his better judgement, Dash brought the screen back up.

2:41 - Phantom is engaging the spider. #IRememberEmber58

And like that, he was wide awake, sitting up in bed and staring at the notification.

It was a long shot. It would take him about fifteen minutes to get to the library, not including the time it took for him to get dressed, sneak downstairs to his car, and actually hit the road. There was a chance Phantom would be long gone by the time he got there.

But…

He was already moving, pulling on sweats and a hoodie, cramming his feet into sneakers that already had the laces tied.

But a level 5 apparition was tough, and a spider the size of a house was a new enemy. It might put up a real fight. If Dash got there in time, he would not only be able to catch a glimpse of his hero in action, but he would also be able to get some new material for his scrapbook. Grabbing his Fenton Camera (the only camera on the market with film and lenses specifically designed to capture ectoplasmic radiation), Dash crept out of his room.

His parents were heavy sleepers. Besides, he was seventeen, and the probability of him getting in trouble for going out at night was extremely low, even if he was caught. As long as he was on track for his scholarship, his parents hardly cared what he did. But Dash was still careful to move quietly through the house. Encountering his folks would waste precious time.

Shortly, he was out the front door, crossing the driveway to the curb, and climbing into his black convertible - top up, because of the absolute crap weather lately. He turned the key in the ignition, put it into gear, and sped out into the silent streets of Amity Park.

In the two and a half years since the PhanClub had been founded, many members had joined, and many of them had since become inactive. Everyone in town - except the Fentons and a few other diehards - had accepted that Phantom was a bona fide hero. No one had abandoned him in that sense. But after two and a half years of seeing Phantom kick ghost butt around town, the ghostly hero had lost his novelty for a lot of people, who then moved onto other things. There were very few members left who, like Dash, were willing to hop out of bed in the middle of the night to drive to ghost fights and take pictures. Most members had either muted their nighttime notifications or gotten rid of the Ghost Spotters app entirely.

Dash considered himself Phantom’s number one fan. He wore the badge with pride and contested it with anyone who tried to claim it (though very few bothered anymore). Sure, there were others on the Ghost Spotters app, like IRememberEmber58, who posted every ghostly encounter they came across, but these guys were “ghostakus” - they were in it for the ghosts, all ghosts, any ghosts. Some Ghost Spotters even supported the local bad guys. Ghosts like Ember, Technus, even the freaking Box Ghost had fans, and many Ghost Spotters would take bets on ghost fights, not over who would win - that was always Phantom - but how long their favorite ghost could escape the Fenton Thermos.

There was even a trading card game… okay, Dash collected those, too. They were pretty cool.

But for Dash, there was only one reason to be in the Ghost Spotters, and that was to be alerted of every appearance of Danny Phantom possible. Watching Phantom in action, risking his life to selflessly protect the people of Amity Park, displaying awesome feats of power, and doing it all with a good sense of humor - it never got old, and Dash didn’t think it ever would.

Dash drove to the library at however many miles over the speed limit he could get away with. Every few minutes, the Ghost Spotters app would light up with a new notification. Dash grabbed his phone and glanced at them:

2:50 - Spider is down. I repeat, spider is down. #IRememberEmber58

2:51 - Vestigial ghost matter on library not disappearing. Phantom looks wary. #IRememberEmber58

2:52 - Phantom entering library. Ghost fight part deux? #IRememberEmber58

2:58 - Webbing on library vanished. May be over people. #IRememberEmber58

Dash growled. He was so close, but it looked like this was going to be a waste of time after all.

At last, the public library rose in Dash’s sight down the road. Like IRememberEmber58 had indicated, everything seemed quiet. Dash figured he ought to drive by anyway, see the damage, maybe catch a glimpse of Phantom flying away, make sure this wasn’t a complete fucking waste of time.

As he pulled up along the eastern side of the library, Dash’s phone went off one more time.

3:01 - Phantom emerging from library - on foot? Probability of injury high. #IRememberEmber58

Dash blinked at the notification. He took his foot off of the pedals, letting his car cruise slowly down the road, all while he squinted through the damp on his windshield towards the front of the library.

There. At the end of the parking lot, cutting across the grass toward the sidewalk a few hundred feet down the road from Dash’s car. Phantom’s aura was so weak that he barely stood out from his misty surroundings. He was limping, on the ground - the actual ground. Dash could see that his right arm was hanging at his side like dead weight and that his head was down, like all of his attention was on putting one foot in front of the other.

This was not good.

Fear wound its cold fingers around Dash’s heart and squeezed. Dash had never seen his hero in such bad shape; even when he lost battles, it was because the other ghost would get away, not because they actually defeated him in combat. Nervous, unsure of what he should be doing, Dash let his car keep coasting down the road so that he could follow Phantom, make sure he got to where he was going okay.

Phantom reached the sidewalk, Dash following a few yards behind. The ghost’s steps were slowing, and he was not walking in a straight line.

All of a sudden, one of Phantom’s knees gave out and he fell over face-first onto the ground.

He did not get up again.

“Shit!” said Dash. His foot slammed down on the accelerator, and his car leaped forward before he managed to slam his foot on the brake. He was out of his car a second later, running around the front of it, falling onto his knees by Phantom’s head.

“Phantom!” he cried out. “Hey man, are you okay?”

Phantom did not respond, did not move. He lay on the wet sidewalk in front of Dash completely inert, damp hair hanging over the half of his face that was turned upward. A Fenton Thermos, strapped over his left shoulder, lay in the small of his back, its indicator pulsing red.

Dash brought up his hands, and they hung in the air over Phantom’s back, shaking. He was hesitant to reach out and touch his idol. He had not been this close to Phantom since the time at Fentonworks back in his freshman year, when they had both been shrunk by some loony Fenton invention and had to fight Skulker to get back to their normal sizes. A true team-up, and Phantom hadn’t spoken to him since. Instead, Phantom had gone on to become even more powerful, defeating huge and impossible foes, rising to a place Dash could never hope to be, probably forgetting all about Dash in the process. Dash didn’t deserve to be this close to Phantom, not anymore.

But Phantom was in trouble, and Dash was all the help he had. It looked like, after two whole years, it was time for another team-up.

As Dash grabbed Phantom’s rain-slick, icy-cold shoulders to turn him over, he did not feel excited about the prospect at all; rather, he felt sick to his stomach.

Phantom weighed basically nothing. It was the easiest thing in the world to roll him onto his back, and Dash half-expected the ghost to dissolve into nothing in his fingers. Once he was on his back, Phantom’s head lolled against Dash’s knees. His eyes were open, dull green rather than the bright, vivid neon they should have been, staring blankly ahead at nothing. Dash saw trails of some silvery moisture coming out of the corners of his eyes, mingling with the rain, and he realized that they were ectoplasmic tears.

“Phantom…?” he whispered. Phantom did nothing to indicate he had heard Dash. The muscles in his face hung slack, and he wasn’t breathing - shit, he wasn’t breathing! But did ghosts even need to breathe? Did they even have lungs?

Could they die?

“Calm the fuck down, Baxter,” he told himself. “He’s not dead. He can’t be. He’s just hurt bad, real bad.” He glanced over Phantom’s body, looking for the injury that had put his hero in such a terrible state. What he saw were six small holes in his jumpsuit, in pairs, two on his right shoulder, two on his stomach, two on his lower left leg, all oozing a sickly green substance. Now that he looked more closely, Dash noticed veins of the same color, branching under the skin on Phantom’s neck where it rose out of the collar of his jumpsuit, curling over his jawline towards his cheeks like emerald lightning bolts.

“What the…” Dash murmured. Then it hit him. Phantom had been fighting a spider. These were spider bites.

Without thinking, Dash reached out his right hand and touched the green stuff oozing from Phantom’s shoulder, just above his collarbone. Immediately he recoiled - it felt like it had stung him! And it kept stinging him, burning him as if he had stuck his fingers into a vat of acid. Dash stared at his fingers in horror. His forefinger and middle finger had two small drops of venom on their tips, and even as he watched, it absorbed into his skin, snaking down through his fingers in bright green lightning bolts of poison.

Dash screamed, kicking away from Phantom, staring at his burning hand. The venom crept down his fingers, into his palm, where finally the green veins tapered to nothing. The sensation of burning sunk into a deep cold, and then into complete numbness. Dash tried to move his fingers; his thumb, ring finger, and pinkie only twitched, and the two that had touched the poison would not respond at all. The muscles in his wrist and at the base of his thumb ached dully. Turning his hand over, Dash saw more lightning bolts pulsing on the back of his hand.

“Fuckfuckfuck.” What had just happened? What was he supposed to do with this?

His eyes were back on Phantom. Whatever had just gotten on Dash’s fingertips, Phantom was full of it. No wonder he wasn’t moving. The dude needed help.

Dash clambered back to his feet, careful of his right hand. He opened the back door of his car, then turned around and, with extreme caution to avoid touching the spider venom again, lifted Phantom into his arms. One arm under the ghost’s knees, one under his back, Dash carried Phantom to his car and gently laid him in the backseat. The weakness of Phantom’s aura was even more apparent in the darkness inside the car.

Dash slammed the door shut and climbed back into the driver’s seat. His Ghost Spotter’s app went off again. Thinking that there might be another ghost around, Dash checked the message and scowled.

3:08 - Phantom abducted by strange black vehicle. Probably the feds. Good luck, ghost boy. #IRememberEmber58

Dash had no clue where IRememberEmber58 was watching the library from. Regardless, he rolled down the window, stuck his hand out, and flipped the dweeb off.

Dash put his right hand over the gearshift but could not clutch it to put the car in drive. Awkwardly, he used his left hand to shift gears. Driving home, his right hand was hooked in the steering wheel at the wrist to help in steering as much as possible. He sure hoped the numbness wasn’t permanent. That was his throwing hand.

On the way back to his house - and was that really the best place to take Phantom but he couldn’t go to a hospital and the Fentons wanted to gut him so screw it Dash’s house was as good a place as any - Dash kept an eye on Phantom in the back seat. There was no outward change in his condition, which could have been good or bad for all Dash knew. The green venom leaking from the bites and glowing under his skin was the brightest thing about the ghost, who could almost be mistaken for human at this point.

Dash speeded all the way home, and it still took too long. As soon as his car was on the curb, Dash cut the engine, leapt out of the vehicle, and got Phantom out of the backseat. He ran with the ghost, who couldn’t have weighed more than twenty pounds, up the driveway to the front door. Dash had to shift Phantom, drape him on his stomach over Dash’s shoulder, so that he could get his key out and get the door open. Once they were inside, Dash carried Phantom up the stairs, praying to God that his parents didn’t choose now to wake up.

At the top of the stairs, Dash began to feel a biting pain in his right shoulder, underneath where Phantom was laying on top of him. Clenching his teeth against an expletive, Dash hurried down the hall, into his bedroom, to the bathroom attachment. He shut the door, turned on the light, and hurriedly deposited Phantom in the bathtub. Stepping back to the counter, Dash looked in the mirror and was horrified to see that some of the venom from Phantom’s stomach had seeped into his hoodie. Crying out, he frantically yanked the hoodie off and threw it into the corner.

Turning back to the mirror, Dash watched three small fireworks of ectoplasmic venom sparking across his right shoulder. The bitter cold sensation sank deep into his muscles, and by the time the numbness set in, Dash was not surprised to find that he couldn’t lift his arm. With his hand already out of commission, the only thing he could do was bend his arm, weakly, at the elbow.

Dash gripped the countertop with his left hand and leaned forward until his forehead was resting on the cool surface of the mirror. Things were fucked, and he knew it. His hero was laying in his bathtub, possibly dead. Dash himself had been poisoned by a giant ectoplasmic spider he hadn’t even seen, and who knew what kind of messed up shit this was going to do to him?

He had no idea how to help either of them. He was just Dash Baxter, high school quarterback. He wasn’t smart enough to be useful to anyone in an emergency, not even himself.

He forced himself to take several deep breaths. He reminded himself that he might not have been the best help for Phantom, but he was the only help the hero had. Dash had to do something. For all the times Phantom had saved his life and the lives of everyone in Amity Park, he had to do something.

Not looking at Phantom - not yet - Dash went back into his bedroom. He dug around in his closet until he found the lime green raincoat his grandma had bought for him on his last birthday, which was so ugly that he had never worn it. Awkwardly, he shrugged it on, using his left hand to grab his right and drag the right arm into a sleeve. Then he went back downstairs into the kitchen, where he grabbed a pair of rubber gloves from under the sink that his mom used to wash dishes. He hoped that this would be enough.

Back upstairs in the bathroom, wearing the raincoat and rubber gloves, Dash finally looked at Phantom in the tub. The ghost looked even worse under the bright LED lighting. His glow was essentially nonexistent, his normally tanned complexion was sallow, and his dulled green eyes continued to stare into nothingness. Phantom’s white hair was plastered to his head with the moisture from outside, and his suit was wet with water and smears of toxic venom.

Dash had to get the venom out of Phantom. The question was - how?

Dash sat down cautiously on the edge of the tub. With his left hand, he pushed Phantom into a more comfortable position, sitting propped against one end of the basin. He grabbed the strap of the Fenton Thermos and pulled it over Phantom’s head before setting the surprisingly heavy contraption on the floor behind the toilet; Dash knew what was inside, and he wasn’t about to unleash a house-sized spider monster because he accidentally kicked the thing.

Turning back to Phantom, he experimentally touched some of the venom on Phantom’s leg with his glove, half expecting the ectoplasm to eat through the material. It didn’t, and Dash heaved a sigh of relief.

Using his left hand, Dash tried pinching the skin and muscles of Phantom’s shoulder to squeeze some of the poison out, but between the rubber of his glove and the slick material of Phantom’s jumpsuit, it was impossible to get a hold. Really, the jumpsuit needed to go.

Dash flushed red at the thought. Was he really sitting here, thinking about undressing his hero…? His eyes found the little zipper at the top of the neck, and Dash gulped. A second later, he was berating himself. “You’re being an idiot. Just take the damn suit off so you can help him.” He reached out, grabbed the zipper, and pulled.

Dash soon discovered it was a chore and a half to use one hand to undress another guy who was completely limp, and any excitement he might have felt at the task quickly evaporated. It was several minutes before Dash had Phantom out of his gloves, boots, and jumpsuit, which he piled in a heap on the floor next to the tub, leaving Phantom in nothing but his white undies.

Like the patterning on Phantom’s neck, the rest of his body was covered in zigzagging bolts of pulsing emerald poison, especially concentrated around the three weeping bite wounds. Dash felt sick looking at it, and he hoped Phantom wasn’t conscious underneath that blank expression.

Dash turned on the bathtub faucet and ran the water until it was lukewarm. Phantom showed no reaction to the liquid sloshing around his legs, but Dash had not expected him to. Dash figured room temperature was the best bet - he didn’t want to burn the ghost, but he didn’t think cold water would be good for someone with spider bites, even if ghosts were naturally cold. Thinking about that, Dash rinsed his left glove in the faucet and then used his teeth to tug it off of his hand. He then laid the back of his hand against Phantom’s forehead.

It was warm. Human warm. Dash had been grabbed by enough ghosts in his life to know that Phantom should have felt as cool as the inside of a freezer. Phantom’s heat now must have been the ghostly equivalent of a fever.

On second thought, Dash cut the heat to the faucet entirely.

He used his teeth to pull his glove back on, grabbed a clean towel from under the sink, took down the showerhead, and turned the hose on. Dash used the showerhead to rinse the globs of venom from Phantom’s wounds. Then he set the hose down near the drain and began pinching the punctures, starting with the ones on Phantom’s shoulder. Venom ran from them freely, running in viscous rivulets over Phantom’s chest. Dash stopped every few seconds to hose Phantom off, sending the toxic - probably radioactive - ectoplasm down the drain to be carried far away from the Baxter home.

Dash pushed against the wound until he was sure Phantom would have bruises, and it kept offering him venom. It was not until several minutes later when the green liquid oozing from the wound lost its visceral feeling of venom and turned into a much more neutral shade of green. It was the strangest thing. The two types of ectoplasm - the spider venom and Phantom’s ‘blood’ - were almost identical to the naked eye. Dash only knew that the venom had turned to ectoplasmic lifeblood when his gut stopped screaming at him about the wrongness of the liquid he was seeing.

Dash repeated this process on the other two punctures. By the time he finished, Dash noticed that some of the bolts of venom across Phantom’s skin had begun to lose their intensity. That was good. Dash had actually been able to do something.

He rinsed Phantom off one last time from head to feet and then turned off the water. Dash patted Phantom dry the best he could considering the ghost was sitting in a damp tub in soaked underwear. Tossing aside the towel with the rest of the discarded clothing, Dash bent down, slid his left arm under Phantom’s back, managed to hook his right arm under the ghost’s legs, and lifted him out of the tub. He was thankful that Phantom weighed next to nothing, otherwise his mostly paralyzed right arm would not have been able to support his weight.

Dash carried Phantom back to his bedroom and laid Phantom in his bed. The covers were already thrown back from when Dash had gotten his Ghost Spotters alert an hour earlier. Complexion drained, eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling, hair damp, veins etched in poison - Dash’s hero looked so small and helpless. It made Dash want to hold him. Either that, or cry.

He did neither. Instead, he stripped off his gloves and raincoat, which he put in the bathroom with the rest of the contaminated articles of clothing. He went back to his closet and pulled out a pair of pajamas from the bottom of a bin. They were his favorite pair from when he was in junior high but had no longer fit him once he got taller and bulked up in high school. Warm red flannel, patterned with brown teddy bears wearing cozy-looking scarves - the only person outside of his family who had seen these was Kwan, who was sworn to secrecy. But they had been the best, especially during the winter or when Dash had been sick, the times when it was important to feel comfortable. They would probably fit Phantom.

Averting his eyes, feeling his face burning, Dash peeled Phantom’s soaked underwear off, dropped them on the carpet, and immediately put the ghost boy’s legs in his red flannel pajama pants. The hero’s modesty preserved, Dash pinched the underwear between two of his fingers, took them to the bathroom, and hung them over the shower curtain rail to dry. They hung there innocuously, glowing faintly - ghost undies.

Back in his bedroom, Dash wrestled Phantom’s upper half into the pajama top. His estimate had been mostly right - Phantom was a little too tall and his arms too long for the pajamas, by about an inch, but otherwise the pjs fit him. Phantom was pretty small.

The veins of venom on the ghost boy’s face had retreated past his jawline and were not glowing so fiercely. Now that the rest of the ones on his body were hidden from sight, he looked a lot better, although it was strange to see the hero wearing Dash’s favorite childhood pajamas, laying in his bed. A strange flutter tickled in Dash’s stomach and flitted into his heart. He was blushing again.

Gingerly, Dash pulled the blankets over Phantom up to his chin and tucked them around him. Even more gingerly, trying not to draw comparisons between this paralyzed ghost and a dead body, Dash touched two fingers to Phantom’s eyelids and closed them. If - no, when Phantom recovered from the spider poison, it wouldn’t hurt him to get a few hours of sleep… assuming ghosts slept.

Dash preemptively texted his parents, letting them know that he was sick and would be staying home from school that day. He hadn’t had a sick day since last school year, so he knew they would take him at his word. To be safe, he locked his bedroom door.

He pulled his computer chair over to the side of the bed and slumped into it. His numb right arm lay in his lap, paralyzed, the green lightning bolts on his hand as harsh and virulent as when they first appeared. He tried not to think about it. Instead, he sat up, determined to watch over his hero through the rest of the night.

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Part 2 -->

#tfc writes #danny phantom #dash baxter #pre-swagger-bishie #protective!dash #injured danny #here be spiders

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