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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 2 months

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the baftas: my eyes need bleach after the livestream chat.

I SAID I WOULD COME TO TUMBLR AND SLUT-SHAME ALL OF YOU, AND YOU BET YOUR GODDAMN BILDADDY I'M HERE TO DO IT. First, a huge thank you to @good-usernames-were-taken, Valerie, for enabling this entire chaos and streaming it. And of course to Disappointment the Main Maggot.

Second, as per requests from you maggots, I have to give an honourary mention to the tragic lack of an emotional support gaseous orange, the late half-eaten packet of Lays on my desk, and my nearly empty can of Monster energy. Idk either, you asked for the mentions you got them.

Without further ado, presenting the BAFTA Awards 2024:

I am busy drawing out the neckline stitches of Crowley's wedding dress, when I am reminded of the stream and I crash into it midway. Little do I know what I am getting into.

Everyone is here for David Tennant. No one is here for the actual awards. This is made very clear very quickly.

KNEES. JUST KNEES. ALL EVERYONE TALKS ABOUT, THROUGHOUT THE STREAM, IS DAVID TENNANT'S KNEES. ARE YOU ALL OKAY WHAT THE FRESH HELL.

For context, David is in a kilt for the first half. I finally see why my relatives disapprove of skirts above knee-length. I never knew humanity's unholy worship of knees till I came here.

SOMEONE ASKS IF DAVID HAS TANNED HIS KNEES. MAGGOTS. PLEASE.

We interrupt our regular scheduled program of David knees to have an intense discussion about British versus French humour, and the misgendering of croissants.

RDJ wins an award and calls his wife his Alpha and Omega.

We're back to the knees. I can't handle how slutty David's knees are, says a worthy maggot.

This goes into a discussion about tickets for David's Macbeth, because, you guessed it, the kilt and the knees.

A lot of gorgeous and talented women in the BAFTAs tonight. I am floored.

I am not allowed to dwell in my awe because the chat is not a place of the lord. Curtain calls of Macbeth are discussed with unnecessary lasciviousness.

Thankfully, in the midst of this, I get a great Zodiac pattern reference for Crowley's wedding dress cummerbund. I was going to have to research the night sky for star charts but this is better.

People show their beautiful brainrot-induced Doc Marten purchases.

The knee thirst has moved into X-rated territory. I am terrified.

A song is sung in memory of film industry people who passed away this year, and people are sad about Dumbledore but at the same time are imagining Aziraphale and Crowley dancing to the song. The brainrot is real.

I accidentally spoil Saltburn's freakshow for someone. When I ask how I can make up for it, they say something about GOAD. I'm alarmed. Is that an OnlyFans, I ask. It's Good Omens After Dark, the chat answers. Is THAT an OnlyFans, I ask. Close enough, the chat says.

David has now changed outfits to a suit, which finally makes people pay attention to the BAFTAs, if only to alternatively thirst over the suit and bemoan the loss of knees.

Things, uh, happen, which I will have to include as quotes in another post. Cheers, @thearoacemess and @vitrilol.

Barty Crouch Jr is debated about as the Wolfstar child. Bratty Crouch Jr is said to be Crowley.

I obtain a banana, which I associate with blowjobs.

@thearoacemess talks about someone deepthroating a seven-inch banana without a hitch.

The stream does a flashback to the kilt time. It is a mistake. @queermarzipan barrels in and is being too slutty about the knees.

I tell them they need jesus, and they yell about how they've gone to mass twice today and they're an atheist.

Thankfully, @vitrilol starts chanting about the glory of Ireland. The only thing that will distract Marzipan from David Tennant is Ireland.

He proceeds to start screech-singing in all caps.

🎵IRELAND IIIRELAND TOGETHER STANDING TALLLL.🎵

The BAFTAs end. People are still thirsting over David Tennant.

🎵I KNOW YOU'RE MISSING HOME IT'S SO LONG SINCE YOU'VE BEEN🎵

Uh, more dubious things about David, suits and the absence of said suits are discussed. I'm trying my damndest not to notice.

🎵AND THE LIFE YOU HAD IN DUBLIN NOW AIN'T NOTHIN BUT A DREAM🎵

There is accidental Mascot lore: I am apparently from a different timeline (I mixed up timeline and timezone) and that's how Apollo deposited me in an illegal sushi restaurant where I became Neil Gaiman and Michael Sheen's intellectual child.

I am compared to a cat.

TOM HIDDLESTON AND DAVID TENNANT WERE IN THE STAGED-LIKE THING IN THE BEGINNING AHAHAHAHAH LOKI AND CROWLEY MY TWO CELESTIAL GENDERFLUID ICONS.

OKAY so I will end the summary here and make a list of out of context quotes in a new post. Because. Boy oh boy. That deserves its own post.

#good omens mascot #weirdly specific but ok #asmi #david tennant #bafta 2024 #good omens #maggots #good omens fandom #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #michael sheen #bafta awards #bafta #bafta livestream #tom hiddleston #loki #ireland #macbeth

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from-memphis-with-love · 1 month

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Songbird - Ch. 1 - The Handsome Stranger

Summary: The year is 1969. The place is the International Hotel. Valerie Pedretti, an aspiring singer, has a chance encounter with one Elvis Presley in an elevator that will change her life forever. Notes: To me, 1967-1971 EP is kind of peak Elvis, and so I wanted to write a fic with him smack dab in that time period. In the 1969-1970 period, especially, Elvis was probably the most handsome and alluring man in the galaxy. Lots of anachronisms and historical inaccuracies in this one, but just roll with it because it's fun! I based Valerie, in a sense, off of a mixture of Kathy Westmoreland, Joyce Bova, and Linda Thompson. Kathy met the real Elvis for the first time in an elevator, and that really inspired this work. Priscilla exists in this universe but she and Elvis get a divorce far earlier than in real life. Theirs, in some ways like real life, is a marriage of convenience and an "arrangement." Lisa Marie does not exist in this universe.

Las Vegas, Nevada, 1969

Vegas was shimmering mirage of bad decisions just waiting to snare me—a sucker-punch I never saw coming. The lights, the noise, the impossible promise of it all crashed over me in kaleidoscopic waves as my cab cruised down the strip towards the International Hotel. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, watching slack-jawed as sequined showgirls and vacationers blurred by in streaks of neon and rhinestone.

The cabbie swerved to the curb with a jolt, snapping me out of my daze. "International Hotel," he barked, his voice an ice bath to my face. I shoved a crumbled wad of bills into his hand and stumbled out and into a swarm of hairspray and cigar smoke congregating under the hotel's blazing marquee. Blinking in confusion, I took in the frenzied scene unfolding—beefy security shoving their way through the sea of pompadours, vendors hawking glossy headshots, teddy bears and "I 🖤 ELVIS" pins. The realization hit me like a freight train. This wasn't just any weekend at the International. It was the kickoff of Elvis Presley's residency. Ground zero for absolute Elvis mania.

The irritation set in, simmering beneath my skin. "Shit," I muttered, suddenly feeling foolish for forgetting. Of all the rotten luck. Out of all the times to visit Las Vegas, I had unwittingly chosen the kickoff of Elvis's shows—an event drawing crowds I had no desire to mingle with.

I wove through the throng, lugging my cumbersome suitcases behind me. Inside the lobby was even more chaotic—a swirling kaleidoscope of big-haired fans and cigarette smoke lingering over shag carpet. Elvis was everywhere, his angelic face beaming down from posters, gold records, life-sized cardboard cutouts. A veritable religious shrine. Groaning internally, I caught my bedraggled reflection in a mirrored column. Of course I would show up to the Presley Promised Land looking like something the cat dragged in. Normally I'd at least try to pull myself together for check-in, maybe swipe on some lipstick or fluff my chocolate curls into place. After all, I didn't want to look terrible in front of people dressed to the nines. But after the day I'd had, I couldn't muster the effort.

My flight from Chicago had been delayed six excruciating hours due to "mechanical issues," which apparently was airline-speak for "sit tight while we screw you over." By the time we finally took off, I'd already stress-eaten two sleeves of Oreos and read the in-flight magazine three mind-numbing times. To top it off, I'd spilled coffee all over my only nice blouse right before landing. Clearly, some divine power had it out for me today.

Feeling sweaty and vaguely nauseous, I trudged to the front desk. The angular blonde behind the counter, Brenda, barely glanced up from her well-thumbed issue of Variety as I approached.

"Welcome to the International Hotel. Checking in?" She smacked her gum, eyes never leaving her magazine.

"Yes, uh, reservation should be under Deena Lovelace."

That finally got her attention. Her penciled brows shot up as she inspected me, taking in the coffee stains and rumpled slacks. "Wait, you're Deena? The Deena who told me she booked for the Sinatra audition tomorrow?" The doubt was palpable.

I gritted my teeth into a tight smile. "No, actually. I'm her friend Valerie. Deena got sick at the last minute, some kind of exotic flu, so I'm filling in for her."

Suspicion clouded Brenda's face, but after a long beat she shrugged. "Huh. Well, takes all kinds, I guess." She signaled to a bellhop in a red monkey suit and thrust a key into my hand. "Room 2806, elevators are that way. If you need anything, ask for Hector."

Hector the bellhop scurried over and hoisted up my bags with surprising ease for such a slight guy. I made a weak attempt to protest, but he just grinned and ushered me through the cacophonous lobby to the first hallway. The doors slid open and I thanked him, pressing a few crumpled bills into his white-gloved hand.

“I can take it from here, Hector.”

As I walked along, I looked at my reflection in the mirrored wall and exhaled slowly. My nerves buzzed like an exposed wire as I thought about tomorrow's audition. Landing a spot in the Sinatra chorus line seemed about as likely as shooting the moon at this point. I barely knew the song Deena had been rehearsing for weeks, my go-go boots had a broken heel, and my voice was ragged from practicing the whole weekend.

But damn it, this was the first real shot I'd had in ages to claw my way out of the chambermaid grind and actually make something of myself. To prove Ma right for always saying I had stardust in my veins, even when it landed me more trouble than applause growing up. I had to at least try. For all those thankless nights warbling in dim lounges, waiting for my big break. For Deena, who I knew would kill for this chance.

I'd barely begun my little pep talk when someone brushed by me, sloshing their vodka tonic onto my sleeve and snapping me back to the present moment. I weaved through the crowd towards another inner hallway, clearing my throat.

I turned on my heel and started hoofing it towards my room. The hotel's layout was an absolute dizzying mess of twists and turns in every direction. My thudding, ungainly footsteps were muffled by the shag carpet and the dulled roar of fans congregating throughout the hotel.

As I trudged on, the ambiance shifted gradually. The hum of voices faded away, replaced by an overwhelming silence that signaled I was getting farther away from the bustling core. Exhaustion tugged at my bones while I navigated the maze of hallways. My room was somewhere in this labyrinth, but my bed felt worlds away at this point.

My steps sank into the plush carpet as I drifted into a quieter, dimly-lit corridor that seemed less traveled. Finally, I found myself alone in front of a bank of elevator doors. I stabbed the call button and waited impatiently, my arms aching from the weight of my overstuffed suitcases. God, why did I pack so much useless junk?

"Must be close now," I muttered out loud, my voice barely audible.

With barely a thought, I slipped out of my heels and bent my toes backwards and forwards, allowing my sore feet to relish the heavenly softness underfoot. It was soft, springy, and absolute relief for my aching soles. Automatically, I began humming a familiar, nameless tune under my breath - just a few sweet, absentminded notes I always turned to for comfort when I needed it. The thought of finally washing this endless day off my face and jumping into a crisp hotel bed was the only thing on my mind as the gilded doors opened with a tinny ding.

The cab was empty. Relieved to finally have a moment to myself, I dragged my heavy bags inside and slumped against the mirrored wall. As the doors started to slide closed, a large, ring-adorned hand suddenly shot out, halting them.

I straightened up with a jolt, my exhaustion replaced by a flash of irritation. Great, just what I needed, another overzealous Elvis fan trying to cram into my personal space bubble.

But as the interloper stepped into the elevator, my breath caught in my throat. Standing before me, in all his smoldering, technicolor glory, was the man himself. Elvis fucking Presley. The aura he gave off was undeniable, that much was sure. And I recognized his face immediately, the same one splashed all over the posters and knick knacks in the lobby. There he was, outshining the garishly glitzy elevator cab like a supernova eclipsing neon. And next to him, a well-built redheaded man, his hand resting at something shiny on his hip. Bodyguard, most likely. Quickly, I shoved my feet back into my heels, silently cursing myself for having taken them off in the first place.

I blinked hard, convinced I must be hallucinating from sheer fatigue. But no, he was unquestionably real, from the polished black shoes to the perfectly coiffed onyx hair that shone like quicksilver in the light. His lean, powerful frame was draped in an immaculately tailored black suit, a shock of pink peeking out from the silk scarf knotted at his throat. But it was the penetrating, electric blue gaze behind tinted shades that truly unraveled me.

I'd never considered myself much of an Elvis fan. Sure, I could appreciate a catchy tune like "Don't Be Cruel" or "Teddy Bear," but I'd always been immune to the mass hysteria he incited in his besotted admirers. Yet here, in such close proximity to his cosmic charisma and undeniable sex appeal, I finally understood. This man was a force of nature.

The redhead caught my awestruck stare and chuckled knowingly. "I see you've met my friend Jon Burrows here," he said with a wink.

But this was no "Jon Burrows." I knew who it was, plain as day. And his affect on me was immediate. Was I dreaming? My pulse started racing. Should I say something? And just how the hell did this happen? I opened my mouth, then closed it, swallowing hard. Play it cool, Valerie.

Any lingering self-consciousness about my frazzled appearance just evaporated in the sheer force of his presence. Though judging by the unmistakably mischievous curl of his lip, my travel-battered state didn't seem to faze him one bit. His perceptive eyes met mine, always accustomed to the spotlight but now studying me with curiosity. He took in my slumped posture and visible fatigue without a hint of judgment.

"You've had yourself a long day, haven't you, honey?" That voice, richer than a Mississippi smokehouse, sliced right through me.

I could only nod dumbly, a lump forming in my throat. "I—uh, yeah. No. I mean... yes, you could say that," I stammered like an idiot. Get it together!

His smile was pure bewitchment. "Well, you'll be tucked in in no time, I reckon. I hear the beds are mighty comfortable here."

I looked up at the ceiling in silence, tracing the swirling pattern with my mind's eye and trying to give off a vibe of cool indifference. But my stomach was actually rolling.

To my surprise, he kept talking. "Pardon my manners. My name's Elvis, and this is my pal Red. Who might you be?"

My throat locked tighter than a cowboy's bullwhip. "Valer—?"

"Valerie." He drew the name out, savoring each note and curve as if testing its ring. Each single syllable seemed to undergo some mystical transformation, alchemized to pure liquid amber from his lips. "A pretty name for a pretty little songbird." A ringed hand discreetly adjusted the bejeweled cups shielding his gaze, maybe hoping to make out my sides better.

Elvis was still steadily playing the blue suede shoes off me, from his elegant bent stance to the teasing half-smirk barely shadowing those indolently hungover features—the whole routine daring me to go chasing his bait. But I was far too busy trying not to spontaneously combust. I screwed my eyes tightly shut for a half-moment, desperately grasping to regain some sense of composure with an oxygen-deprived brain.

How did he know...?

Dumb question, Sherlock. The very notion conjured images of me, sweat-glazed and punchy-tired, mindlessly vocalizing sweet lullabies straight from my Off-Off-Broadway chambermaid days while I waited for the elevator. Of course he would've overhead that.

I cinched my mouth into what I hoped was a blasé half-smile, refusing to come completely uncorked by his pet name. I replayed the embarrassing moment in my head, wishing I could dissolve into the elevator shaft. Every breath I pulled in seemed to crackle with electricity. First I randomly share an elevator with The Elvis Presley, and now he'd overheard my nervous vocalizing and was complimenting me on it?

"Baby." A rich, salt-cured chuckle melted off his tongue, resining deep in my nerve center. "I got ears like a well-tuned radar dish. You in town for a show?"

I shook my head slowly. "Technically yes, but no. Just an audition," I replied, my heart thundering in my ears. I hoped he couldn't hear it pounding.

"Who for, if you don't mind me asking?" he inquired with that laser gaze.

I sucked in a steadying breath. Might as well take the bait since I'd already been barb-hooked but good. "I'm here for an audition, actually. Tomorrow. For Sinatra. I'm a singer. I mean, not like you, but hopefully one day..." I paused, unsure of how much backstory was worth burdening Elvis with. "Just got a last minute sub-in for a friend who's under the weather."

Something flickered across Elvis' handsome features before the mask of idle curiosity slid back into place. "Is that right?" His gaze raked over me again, slower this time, more deliberate. "And what will you be singing for Ol' Blue Eyes?"

Shit. Why was he asking me so many questions? My palms started to sweat as I racked my brain for a suitable answer. It wasn't like I could admit that I barely knew the material, that I was flying by the seat of my pants on a far-fetched favor for a friend. So I settled for a half-truth instead.

"Oh, you know. Just a little medley of standards. 'To Keep My Love Alive,' 'I Can Cook, Too,' that kind of thing."

Elvis nodded slowly, a shadow of a smirk still playing on his lips. "A classic set list. I'm sure you'll knock 'em dead, honey."

I started to stammer out a thanks, but Elvis was already moving past me towards the door as the elevator finally shuddered to a stop. He paused, throwing a glance back over his shoulder. There was a new intensity in his eyes when they met mine, a dark promise that made my toes curl involuntarily in my heels.

"I'll be rooting for you, songbird. Break a leg."

And with that, he was gone, leaving me weak-kneed and dizzy in a cloud of his smoky-spicy cologne. I sagged against the wall, trying to collect myself. What in the ever-loving hell had just happened? Had I honestly just been shamelessly eye-fucked by Elvis Presley in an elevator?

More importantly, why had I liked it so much?

I shook my head, trying to dislodge the treacherous thoughts as I finally stumbled out into the harshly lit hallway. It was late, I was tired, and I had an audition to rest up for. The last thing I needed was to dwell on smoldering looks from a celebrity Casanova that I had no business panting over in the first place.

But even as I went through the motions of unlocking my room and sinking face-first into the marshmallowy duvet, I couldn't stop my mind from wandering back to the electric encounter in the elevator. The way Elvis had stared at me, equal parts scorching and inscrutable, as if he was trying to crack some tantalizing code. There was no way I could have imagined that. The effortless command he'd exuded, the sheer magnetism rolling off of him in waves. How ridiculously, unexpectedly good he still looked, hips swiveling in slow-motion in my mind's eye...

I punched a pillow in frustration, annoyed with my traitorous libido. This was so far beyond the scope of anything I'd anticipated when I'd agreed to sub in for Deena's audition. But one thing was certain—my time in Vegas was shaping up to be a hell of a lot more interesting than I'd bargained for. And something told me that a chance run-in on a hotel elevator was only the beginning.

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis fic #elvis x oc #elvis presley fic #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #songbird #elvis fans

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talzane · 2 years

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I've been seeing a lot of Damian and Danny Twins AUs lately, but they always seem to recognize each other by appearance. They're two kids raised by the League to, assuredly, be a deadly duo at least until Ra's decided one of them had to go. Once Robin starts working with Batman--depending on the canon, he's also trained by the League--those team(twin) fighting lessons and years of practice should come back like muscle memory. For Danny, that should resurface at least a little as he works with Tucker, Sam, Jazz, and possibly Valerie (for this specific AU it would make a *lot* more sense if Valerie was added since she can also fly and then have Danny train her to fight like a Leaguer beside him).

Somehow, probably a ghost nut convention, Danny ends up in Gotham. Batman has been incapacitated and captured by Scarecrow, who is once again bragging about his latest fear toxin that will bring Gotham to its knees, starting with its Dark Knight. Danny has to help a fellow vigilante out and heads off, following the signals of Gotham's shades to Scarecrow's base. Danny, being cautious for once in his vigilante career, surveys the base, and sneaks in.

Robin, the only other bat in Gotham by some misfortune, decided to sneak off to "rescue" his father all by himself. He had no clue who the newbie breaking in Scarecrow's base was, but his father wouldn't want him to let them die, which is why he found himself following the *glowing* imbecile.

*Nice going Fenton, you could have just turned intangible. I guess old habits must come back,* and not wanting to miss another opportunity for improved sneaking, Danny promptly turned invisible and broke left as he continued to creep farther into the building.

*How did that idiot manage to evade me?* Damian wondered with no small hint of irritation after he entered by the same entrance and turned towards his right.

Minutes later, both teens entered into a large, open area. Apparently Scarecrow had set up shop in a large warehouse with ample office space at the front, which the boys had found empty of threats, to their mutual frustration. Danny, still invisible, flew to the rafters and slowly drifted deeper into the warehouse towards the source of the noise and lights he could see. Robin kept to the right of the warehouse, grappled to the rafters and swiftly darted along them towards the area where Scarecrow was likely holding his father.

As Danny neared the back of the warehouse, several things became very clear. The first was that his eyes had been correct, those were *actually* massive vats of chemicals. The second was that massive vats of chemicals without lids existed somewhere outside his parents' basement. The third was that this "Scarecrow" guy, with all his advanced chemistry lab set up, advanced formulas, TV cameras, hired thugs, and insanity was...just a dude with a sack on his head. Danny shook his head, *this is why I don't fight humans.*

Robin, on the other hand, was primarily focused on finding a way to neutralize the thugs around Batman long enough to free him. Robin thought for a moment, Damien Wayne thought for a moment, and Damien al'Ghul thought for a moment. Something in his gut told him his plan would work, and father had said to trust his gut unless it told him to kill people.

Robin leapt from the rafters onto the thug nearest Batman and after absorbing the rest of his fall with a precise roll to his right into the back of another's ankles (ACL tear if done right...or wrong for the rollee), he darted, again towards his right, attempting to clear a space around the objective.

Danny, from his vantage on the rafters, saw a flicker of motion before *Robin* dropped through his field of view and instinct kicked in, pulling Danny after him. Danny, feeling years out of practice, barely avoided twisting his now-much-larger ankle on the shoulder of the goon he crashed onto, and his roll to his left into the next thug's calves was horribly off target to the point he had to yank the man's feet from under him with ghostly strength, but this fight felt...right.

Damian noticed the stutter after his partner landed, that didn't normally happen. *Normally? Ttt, father isn't so clumsy...*

After a minute, perhaps two, had passed, a small space and a shorter window had appeared for Damian to free Batman.

Danny, appreciating the moment he and his mysterious partner had bought, made eye contact with their objective. Tall, dark, brooding, bat-obsessed, and intimidating was putting it mildly. The Batman was terrifying and his gaze was fixed on Danny, so Danny pointedly looked away from him and returned to his job, keeping watch. Dam-- his brot-- Danny had never been that great at rescuing the target anyway, he'd made the best distractions when necessary though. *Could have just phased the bindings off him, stupid,* the voice in the back of his head chided him. *Great going, Fenton. Really slipping up today aren'tcha?*

Damian's hands fumbled for less than half a second as he released Bruce from the table, but he couldn't help it, that had felt...just like before. As the bindings fell away, Batman removed himself from the table and focused the full might of his glare on Scarecrow.

"Forgive me, Dark Knight, if I'm not afraid of your...theatrics. You see my new toxin will--"

An echoing, teenaged voice cut him off, "Blah, blah, crumble the Dark Knight to ruins and bring Gotham to Wisconsin or something, just give up already!"

Scarecrow's mask twisted to match the sick grin underneath, "Is this a new bat for me to te--"

"Am not," the voice, coming from the glowing figure, retorted.

The few goons who had managed to regain their feet since the first beatdown slowly worked to form a perimeter between the 'Crow and the Bats (and co).

"Good, then try *this*!" Doctor Johnathan Crane cried as he hurled a small vial filled with a yellow fluid at Danny's feet. Both Batman and Damian lunged to make space and time to don their filtration masks, but the glowing figure didn't move and vial smashed between his feet.

Damian's heart clenched in fear, *Why didn't you move!?*

The Bat's eyes narrowed.

Danny breathed in the sweaty aroma. *Ugh,* "Dude, was this supposed to smell like gym shorts?"

The Scarecrow stood amidst the vast chemical distillery he had set up in his months out of Arkham, behind the wall of hired muscle he had found, and his jaw fell slack. All his calculations had amounted to was the smell of used gym shorts!?

While the 'Crow's brain tried to reset from Danny's perfect distraction, Danny turned his head back to face Robin with his customary, cocky grin.

Damian recognized the signal for what it was and they sprung back into action together, in sync. As they bounded through the remaining thugs like scythes through a wheat field, every thug they threw was stomped out by the other, every combat roll to quickly find a new angle was covered, and every opening was protected just like they'd been doing this for years.

The fight came to an end to the symphony of Scarecrow's screams, "It's not possible. It's just not! My formula was perfect!" They ended when Batman, who had already handcuffed the pleading lunatic, had knocked him out for "resisting arrest."

Danny and Damian stood near each other to catch their breath, supposedly, but they were appraising each other. Their physiques matched, even if one of them glowed, the eyes matched, even if they shouldn't, and the hair, which was still waving around despite the lack of wind, definitely didn't match, but Damian had a feeling.

Robin was dressed like a stoplight. It was really not Damian's style...at least not back then, but maybe it could have been by now. The hair was the same, he couldn't make out the eyes through whatever was covering them, but this was Damian, no doubt about it.

Danny stepped closer to Robin. Robin's body language immediately became tense in a falsely disaffected manner. Definitely Damian. Danny swooped in for a hug and turned his head intangible, *Ha! Got it right that time!*

When Damian swung at the mystery glowstick's head, he didn't expect his fist to go through it, but his fist certainly collided with their ribs.

Yup, it's Dami.

Damian let himself relax, this was Danyal. Somehow, he was alive, and Damian returned the hug. He'd kill Danyal for not telling him he was still alive later.

"Robin!"

Damian's eyes cracked open to see the disapproving figure of Batman glaring down at him.

"Report!"

In case it wasn't clear, Danny was "slipping up" because he was running on instincts from his days with Damian, not cause he's having problems.

#danny phantom #dp au #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny fenton #damian wayne #I dont know how to write their dialogue so I kinda didn't

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goodfish-bowl · 7 months

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Wired-In

Ectoberhaunt 2023 Day 2: Technomancy

AO3 Link

Summary: Valerie hadn’t noticed any differences at first, just life being a bit easier when it came to certain things. but with the hum now constantly under her skin, it’s difficult to focus on anything else.

Warnings: angst, slight body horror

Words: 805

It had been small and subtle things at first, differences that Valerie could only notice in retrospect. Devices no longer asked for passwords, and the broken cash register at work would suddenly start functioning again after a swift hit to the side. It would only take a good, percussive kick to get the bugged-out ice cream machine working again. All of them were small things that she wouldn’t look at suspiciously, but would make her day just the slightest bit easier.

Then, some other things became a lot easier. Valerie’s fingers would fly across a keyboard, autocorrecting to exactly what she meant, even if the word was widely misspelled. Using her suit became so close to second nature it barely took the hint of a thought to get it to do anything, from her hoverboard to the manifestation of weapons she had never called upon before. Valerie actually noticed this one, but wrote it off as a progression of skill. That sniper rifle-style blaster had managed to land a solid hit on Phantom before he could even react.

The first time Valerie really noticed something was up, it had been during a three way fight between Skulker, Phantom, and herself. A vivid image of Skulker’s wings deploying and sending him directly into the closest building flashed in her mind. With a show of teeth, and an audible snarl, Valerie gave into the impulse and harshly shoved the mechanical ghost out of the way. Red flashed beneath Skulker's suit, racing up his arm in a pulse of light, his eyes flickered to her signature crimson. With the sound of skulker yelling inside of his suit as he lost control, the wings deployed and he crashed directly into the office building to their left. Valerie only spared enough time to glance between her hand and the Skulker-shaped hole in the office windows, before forcing her hoverboard to go faster after Phantom.

It had been later that night, that Valerie truly acknowledged that something wasn’t quite right. The screen in her visor no longer projected the tracking formation before her face, but flashed with complete understanding behind her eyes. She accepted it easily in the moment, caught up in the chase, but laid in her bed for hours afterwards. After flicking through the mental computer in her mind for a while, Valerie ended up mentally going over recordings of her own memories, like they were recorded from her own eyes with perfect clarity. Even with her suit tucked away, she could still feel it humming under her skin, and buzzing behind her eyes. It didn’t go away, and she couldn’t find the power button either.

Valerie couldn’t decide if this was a good thing or not, still lost in her own mind, but still hearing every minute of Mr. Lancer’s lecture as it was recorded and transcribed into a small corner of her mind. It made her feel less human, with every second of her memory being perfectly recalled like a computer log. Now that she was aware of it, Valerie could even feel the high-frequency buzz of electronics in the school building, the call of various devices tucked away behind the textbooks and in bags. It made her hyper aware of everything humming with electricity in this corner of the building. She absently wondered what she could do with it, but these powers reminded her far too much of Technus, usefulness aside it twisted her gut in a way she didn’t like as she was changed without her permission.

Valerie wondered if she should go to the Fentons about her newfound powers, but that brought the drawback of them finding out. Valerie herself didn’t want to know if they cut her open, and took samples, if they would find electricity and ectoplasm mixed into her blood. Chips and wires replacing her veins. Danny was terrified of ghosts, she didn’t want him to look at her in fear, if she turned out to be more ghost-like than human.

Valerie rammed the thoughts about her powers to the side with such mental force she thought Skulker would go through another building (in the room over, a light burst). She was human, some neat and very useful abilities didn’t change that, it was a good thing, it made her a better ghost hunter. If she could link into the local security and traffic cameras, she might finally be able to find out where that awful ghost went when he wasn’t terrorizing Amity Park. She could take him down for good. Valerie hummed in contentment at the thought of finally getting her revenge, matching the humm of the lights above her perfectly.

Valerie didn’t catch the brief glance from Danny across the classroom as his breath released in a cold wisp and caught a flicker of crimson in her eyes.

Ectoberhaunt 2023 Master Post

#ectoberhaunt23 #EH Science #Day 2 #technomancy #danny phantom #goodfish writes #valerie grey #Valerie POV #dp fic #possibly halfa!Valerie #angst #cw body horror #tw body horror

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scarletsaphire · 9 months

Note

Gray ghost for your ships ask game?

Danny collapsed against the rubble of the building, gulping down the dust filled air. He didn’t technically need to breathe in ghost form, but it was comforting, and a habit. The sound of metal hitting concrete sounded to his left, and he spared one glance to his left. Val had found him. That meant she was ok.

“How’s it going with yours?” he asked, turning his eyes back to the fluorescent lights flickering its last in the ruined shop window. Valerie just groaned in response, throwing her head back against the debris. “That well, huh?”

“I don’t know what is up with these things,” she said. “I swear I shoot one and three more pop out from behind them.”

“They’re breeding like rabbits,” Danny replied. “Which makes sense, since they are rabbits.” Giant ghost rabbits, that seemed to not understand that rabbits ate carrots and lettuce and not people, cars, or buildings.

“Do me a favor, and the next time your parents decide to bring anything back from the ghost zone, stop them.”

Danny raised his arm in a lazy salute before letting it fall back to the pavement with a soft thud. He winced slightly. One of the rabbits had gotten a lucky hit. Probably had to do with all their feet. “You ready to get back out there?”

A loud crash echoed through the street as, presumably, yet another rabbit tried to eat something it shouldn’t. “Not like we have a lot of a choice.”

Danny leaned over and planted a kiss on Valerie’s visor, right where her cheek would be. “Knock ‘em dead, Red.”

She took his hand and squeezed it. “Too late for that.” In the blink of an eye she was flying off on her hoverboard. Danny was in the air less than a second later.

#grey ghost #gray ghost #danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #valerie grey

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q-gorgeous · 1 year

Text

He Just Needs Time To Think

fanfiction

ao3

word count: 1025

We have a lot of identity reveal fics- how about a post reveal one? What are the consequences (positive or negative or quirky) of danny revealing his identity (accidentally or not) to either his parents, Valerie, or anyone of your choice @dekalkomania

more dash content here on the dash

Everything had been weird since the reveal.

Dash had seen him one day. He’d managed to sneak up on Danny from behind after a ghost fight and saw him transform. He had knocked over a garbage can in his haste to get away, the only indication Danny had that anyone had even seen him. When he saw the back of Dash’s head as he ran away his stomach had filled with dread.

Danny tried to talk to Dash about it. He had to make sure that Dash wouldn’t tell anyone his secret. That he understood what kind of danger Danny would be in if it got out. He’d have both the GIW and his parents knocking on his bedroom door.

But everytime Dash saw him, he turned the other way. He made some kind of excuse. He no longer sought Danny out anymore. Didn’t beat him up or pick on him.

It made Danny worried that Dash was scared of him. It was something that he feared would happen if someone found out his secret. That they’d think he was some kind of monster. A freak.

He really needed to talk to Dash though. It had been a week since he found out and there were still no rumors going around. At least not yet.

Danny walked down the hallway towards where Dash stood at his locker. He hadn’t seen him yet but Danny was ready to chase him down today. He wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Hey Dash.” Danny started. “We need to-“

A ghost crashed through the ceiling and Danny threw his hands into the air.

“Come on!”

The rest of the students aside from Danny and Dash scattered away. After a look back and forth down the hallway Danny transformed.

He could feel Dash watching him as his transformation rings spread over his body. He didn’t know why he didn't leave. This would have been the perfect excuse to get out of talking to Danny one more time.

He leapt up and flew toward the ghost. It was a large, deformed bear. When Danny reached it and punched it in the face all it did was swat him away. Danny slammed into the wall and shook his head. When he looked back up he could see the bear advancing toward Dash.

It opened its mouth and roared. It brought up a paw and was about to strike when Danny had the sinking feeling that this bear was looking for a snack.

“No!” He flew as fast as he could toward Dash. He barreled into him and wrapped his arms around Dash’s waist. He turned them intangible right as the bear’s paw slashed through where they had just been standing and they flew through the wall of the hallway into an empty classroom.

“Are you okay?” Danny asked as he stood up from where they just landed on the floor.

Dash nodded.

“Okay.” Danny turned to face the wall they just flew through. “You need to find somewhere to hide. This ghost looks like it has a taste for humans.”

“Why do you even bother saving me?”

The question made Danny pause. He wasn’t expecting it. The way Dash asked it made him sound so small.

“Because it’s the right thing to do. Why wouldn’t I?” Danny shrugged. “But now’s not the time to have this conversation. We’re lucky that the ghost hasn’t already phased through the-”

Right on queue, the ghost phased its nose through the wall, sniffing. It growled and pushed the rest of the way through the wall into the classroom, its eyes fixed on Dash.

“Shit!” Danny said. His fists glowed with two ectoblasts and he started shooting them at the ghost. After shooting enough blasts at the ghost, it finally fixated on Danny. He started flying circles around it. It traced him with its eyes and Danny conjured an ice blast and threw an ice ball at the back of its head. While it was down, Danny quickly took the thermos out and captured the ghost. He floated back to the ground, landing on his feet, and took a deep breath. When he looked up Dash was watching him.

Danny walked over to him and sat next to him on the ground. “You can’t tell anyone about this.”

Dash shook his head. “I wasn’t going to. Why would I?”

Danny shrugged. “I don’t know. Because you like to pick on me and your girlfriend is the queen of the rumor mill.”

“Girlfriend?” Dash asked, confused.

“And you guys all make fun of me for being a freak.” Danny continued, ignoring him. “Why wouldn’t you tell everyone if it adds more fodder to your digs into me?”

“All of us know how dangerous it is for Phantom.” Dash looked away from him. “You’ve got enemies everywhere. Nowhere is safe for you. It’s not that hard to figure out that you being Danny would make it easier for them to find you if they were to figure it out.”

Dash looked back at him. “Besides, why would I share the fact that the kid I wail on everyday is actually the superhero that’s protecting us? I’d look like even more of an asshole. Besides, it made me realize you were holding back. You could’ve fought back but you never did.”

Danny shook his head. “It wouldn’t be the right thing to do. I’d be able to hurt someone too easily if I wasn’t careful. And it helped protect my identity anyways.”

“That’s true.” He smiled sort of awkwardly. “So you’re not going to threaten me into keeping your secret?”

“No.” Danny rolled his eyes. “Not unless I have to.”

“My lips are sealed.” Dash did the locking motion over his lips and threw away the key.

“Thanks.” Danny said. “I really appreciate it.”

“It’s the least I could do for making my hero’s life hell for the past couple years.”

Danny chuckled. “So I’m your hero?”

Dash spluttered. “What? Did I say- No. Forget it.”

“I’m just kidding around. Come on. We better figure out where our classes went so they can mark us accounted for.”

“Right behind you.”

#gorgi writes #danny phantom #phic phight 2023 #fanfiction #danny fenton #dash baxter

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sidewalk-cracks · 2 years

Text

Vlad Masters' character just routinely shoots me in the heart. He's a man who, when you boil him way down, just wants a family. His primary, baseline desire is simply to be loved, by a family that he can also love and protect. He's lonely. The problem is, is that he's been hurt in his life, and he's let his resulting bitterness, trauma, and hatred twist and warp how he goes about trying to get the love he wants. His pain has corrupted his morals, which in turn drives potential love away from him, which in turn makes him more desperate as the love evades him, which in turn pushes him to more and more drastic lengths to get what he longs for, which in turn continues this vicious cycle. He continually sabotages himself, but can't realize that because of how far he's sunk in his misery.

It's incredible setup for a redemption arc, wherein Vlad, through multiple events, is aggressively jolted into realizing how he's destroying himself, and subsequently everyone around him. He goes through his repentance and redemption and to Danny, expresses that he's always just wanted to take care of him. That he's always wanted to protect the younger halfa and be someone important to him, but he let his pain poison everything and he did so many things he regrets now, and is there any possible way he could give him a second chance? And Danny can tell that Vlad's actually aware now. He knows just how much he'd been screwing himself over; it's easy to see in his tormented expression.

And as time passes and Vlad works on fixing things, he gradually grows the family he's wanted for so long. It starts with Danny, hesitant to trust him at first but loosening up the more he sees that Vlad's genuine. Then Jazz, who's much more willing to forgive him since she sees Danny's giving him a chance. Eventually Tucker and Sam, too, who end up crashing at Vlad's house more than once with Danny. Tucker shares a common interest of hacking government databases with Vlad and Sam likes to team up with him to harass other rich people. Valerie takes much longer, even longer than Danny, but time slips by and the tension in her shoulders starts to ease whenever she's around Vlad, and at some point she's started crashing at his house with the trio. Eventually Vlad brings himself to visit the Fentons, to pull Maddie aside and apologize, to take a deep breath and clear his head and give Jack a second chance, since he's gotten one. Danielle's the last one, and it takes a long, ugly, agonizing process with a lot of crying and fighting and white-flag-waving, but the day Vlad sits with his daughter asleep his arms and Danny and Danny's friends napping in a blanket fort in the living room, is the day he feels loved.

#danny phantom #vlad masters #vlad plasmius #character study #danny fenton #badger cereal #vlad redemption #jazz fenton #maddie fenton #jack fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #valerie gray #red huntress #dp #danielle phantom #dani phantom #dani fenton #redemption arc

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reallydumbdannyphantomaus · 2 years

Text

Reset

Valerie, Paulina, and Danny are stuck in a time loop as the end of the world looms. It goes about as well as you'd expect. (ao3) (p.s. if you read an earlier version of this already, this is a longer and more complete first chapter, tho the first section is almost entirely the same) also tagging @not-your-average-url since they specifically requested it

Loop 0

"Oh my god, Valerie, do you have to be so dramatic?" Paulina snapped her compact mirror closed, meeting Valerie's glare with her own, just as fierce. "Now we're both in trouble."

"Don't say shit about my dad, then," Valerie said, fingers clenching at her side, "and we won't have a problem."

"I didn't say anything that wasn't true."

"My dad baked you brownies every year for your birthday, and you called him a fat loser to my face. You should've expected to get punched."

Stuck between them outside Principal Ishiyama's office, Danny sighed. Sam and Tucker were right: he'd developed too much of a "hero" thing. Jumping in the middle of Valerie and Paulina's fight to break it up only got him sent to the office as well. He should've left well enough alone, but it was too late now.

"You and your dad's fall from grace isn't my fault. All I did was acknowledge it."

Danny groaned. It was the end of the school day. The last bell was about to ring. And here he was, trapped between two angry former crushes.

"Paulina, could you stop being an asshole for, like, five minutes?" he said, pinching the bridge of his nose where his headache pounded. He just wanted to go home and pass out. Between Skulker and his homework, he'd only gotten about an hour's worth of sleep last night.

Paulina scoffed. "Whatever, Fenton."

Valerie turned her glare on him. "I don't need you to fight my battles, Danny."

"I really just wish you wouldn't fight at al—"

A wisp of blue air escaped his mouth just as the world exploded in light and noise and pain.

Loop 1

Danny burst awake to his blaring alarm.

The world came into focus bit by bit, as the jackrabbit pace of his heart slowed to a normal pace. Danny could make out the glow-in-the-dark stars over his bed, faintly shining in the morning light.

“Danny, if you’re not ready in 15 minutes, you can take the bus to school! I’m not waiting!” Jazz yelled on the other side of his door.

“Uh, okay!” he yelled back, trying to keep his voice from quivering. Was it… a dream? It all felt so real, so normal, even, right until the end…

The smell of burning bread wafted into his room. Mom burned her toast again. She burned it in his dream, too, but she burned it most days. That didn’t mean anything. Had Jazz yelled at him in the dream? He wasn’t sure. He’d been pretty sleep deprived so a lot of the day was pretty fuzzy.

He had the strangest sense of deja vu the whole day. When he got to school, Dash knocked into him in the hallway and sent him crashing into the locker. This happened most days. Less common was Sam shouting “Douche Baxter!” after him. She’d said that in the dream, too.

“New nickname?” he said.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess. I mean, it fits him well enough, right?”

“Y-Yeah. Yeah.”

Sam frowned. “Are you okay? He didn’t actually hurt you, did he?”

Danny waved her off. “Nah, Skulker gave me worse last night. Just some… weird deja vu.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Okay, well. If you change your mind…”

“You and Tuck will be the first to know, I promise.”

“Good.”

The rest of the day wasn’t any better. Dash stumbled over the same presentation on the industrial revolution he vaguely remembered sleeping through in his dream. The cafeteria served the same almost-crunchy tuna noodle casserole. Mikey slipped in the same puddle after one of the football players removed the CAUTION: WET FLOOR sign.

“I think I’m going crazy,” he said as Nathan helped to pick Mikey up off the floor.

“And this is news?” Tucker said. Sam elbowed him. “Ow.”

“What he means is: what makes you say that?”

“I just—I had this dream last night, and I think it’s… coming true?”

“Like a prophetic vision?”

“Something like that. Like, in my dream, Mikey slipped in the puddle just like that.”

“So?” Tucker said through a mouthful of his turkey sandwich. “Mikey falls all the time.”

“It’s not just that. It’s—I swear I heard you call Dash ‘Douche Baxter’ in the dream too. And I heard his presentation, too.”

Sam sat back in her seat, humming thoughtfully. “What else happened in the dream? If we are living your dream, then what happens next?”

“Ugh, I don’t know. I only remember bits and pieces. The next thing I remember for sure happening is Valerie and Paulina getting into a fight in seventh period.”

Tucker laughed. “Oh, I’m putting money on Valerie to win that fight. A hundred percent.”

“Okay, well how about this: if the fight happens, then you’ve got some weird prophetic vision going on. If it doesn’t, then it’s just a weird dream.”

“Works for me,” Tucker said around another mouthful.

“I guess,” Danny said. The ending of his dream played on a loop in his head. He was pretty sure they’d died there at the end.

He really hoped Valerie and Paulina didn’t fight in seventh period English.

The clock ticked interminably slow the rest of the day. Every sound made him jump. He turned his head at every movement. Every word spoken was checked against the catalog in his head of his half-remembered dream. He second-guessed everything that happened around him. Had Kwan sat down quite so heavily in his dream? Did Star ask that question? Yes, she definitely had. He remembered it. Right?

As the bell rang for seventh period, every muscle in his body ached with the strain of being held in tension for so long. In his dream, Valerie and Paulina had got up to fight almost immediately after the bell rang. Lancer hadn’t even gotten class started yet.

He eased himself into his seat, staring between Valerie and Paulina, both of whom seemed… set on ignoring each other. His eyes darted back and forth, but neither of them even looked at the other. Lancer moved to the front of the classroom and wrote The Scarlet Letter on the board and the two girls were both still staring at their desks.

Danny let out a sigh of relief. It was just a dream after all.

Lancer’s class passed in a blur. He pillowed his arms on his desk and let the teacher’s low drone lull him.

As he had almost passed out, he gasped as the cool mist of his ghost sense escaped him. He looked out the window to see something bright and green and burning race toward the classroom. He stood. Paulina screamed.

The world exploded again.

Loop 2

Danny burst awake to his blaring alarm.

—

Loop 0

Sometimes, Valerie couldn’t believe she was ever friends with Paulina Sanchez.

She wasn’t always this girl, was she? She wasn’t always someone who dragged everyone down to make sure that she was always on the top, right? At some point, the two of them were just normal, everyday friends.

Weren’t they?

Over Danny’s head, Valerie glared at Paulina, who was fixing her makeup. Whatever the past, the present reality was that Valerie was no longer Paulina’s friend, which apparently meant that she was now Paulina’s target.

She could handle it, though. She would never be favored by school administrators in a fight regardless of the context, so she had gotten excellent at not reacting.

Until Paulina brought her dad into it.

Valerie clenched her fist at the thought. Damon Gray had always been kind to Paulina. She’d even told Valerie once that he was more of a father to her than her own dad. He didn’t deserve the words that came out of Paulina’s mouth.

"Oh my god, Valerie, do you have to be so dramatic? Now we're both in trouble."

“Don’t say shit about my dad, then, and we won’t have a problem.”

Danny cringed between them. Poor guy, getting stuck in this mess. He really should’ve just let her go to town on Paulina rather than getting in the way.

“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

“My dad baked you brownies every year for your birthday, and you called him a fat loser to my face. You should've expected to get punched.”

"You and your dad's fall from grace isn't my fault. All I did was acknowledge it."

"Paulina, could you stop being an asshole for, like, five minutes?" Danny finally spoke up, a heavy layer of exhaustion in his voice. Valerie had no idea why he insisted on staying up so late every night, but it clearly took its toll on him. She was pretty sure she’d seen him dozing in each of the three classes they shared.

Still, she didn’t need his help with Paulina. It was her own problem.

"I don't need you to fight my battles, Danny."

"I really just wish you wouldn't fight at al—"

Danny gasped mid-sentence, and the world erupted.

Loop 1

Valerie jolted awake.

Cold sweat stuck the old Humpty Dumpty t-shirt she slept in to her back. Each breath came out as a stuttering gasp. She pounded her chest with her fist, desperate to get some control over her breathing.

A knock on her door. Her father’s exhausted voice. “Val, I’m heading to bed. Have a good day at school, sweetheart. I’ll see you for dinner? My shift starts at 8, can you be home in time?”

Valerie took a deep breath. Then another.

“Val?”

“Yeah!” she said, keeping her voice more-or-less stable. “Yeah I can—I can make it.”

“Good. Good morning!” he said with a chuckle. It was her dad’s new favorite joke: now that he worked the night shift and went to bed in the morning, he said “good morning” the same way most people said “good night”.

She heard the soft click of his door closing and let out another halting breath. It was 7:15 AM. School started in an hour. Last she remembered, school had blown up.

She got ready in a haze, showering, getting dressed, eating. She packed up her homework that she’d done two nights ago (last night? Was that whole day a dream? A vision?) and changed into her Red Huntress armor. Elmerton was a ways out of Amity Park proper and it had its own high school. Dad, though, had taken one look inside it and its broken lockers and moldy ceilings and marched right back out.

So she still went to Casper High, despite the commute. Besides, her dad had said, he didn’t want her to leave all her friends.

(She hadn’t yet figured out how to tell him that only Star would still talk to her, that Paulina and Kwan and Dash had dropped her like a sack of potatoes at the first sign of trouble. Kwan had come up to her and apologized two months ago, but she wasn’t ready to forgive so easily. She held grudges like it was going out of style. Ask Phantom.)

So she covered up her Huntress activities with stories of going to Paulina’s house. She got to hunt ghosts and protect the town, and her dad got to think that she was living a normal teenage life. It worked out for both of them.

Flying to school cut down on her commute a lot, too. Instead of 45 minutes, she could get over there in just 20 minutes, 15 if she booked it. And today was a “book it” kind of day, if only to get through the weirdness as fast as possible.

Unfortunately, the weirdness kept coming. At her locker, she heard Sam Manson’s shout of “Douche Baxter” just before Dash jogged past, laughing at what looked to be Danny Fenton, picking himself up off the floor. Typical Dash, except it happened the same way in her dream.

Nathan came up to her in third period. He did that a lot, too, but he didn’t usually do it with yellow roses—except he did today and in her dream. Mikey slipped and fell in the cafeteria, again; Tyson, one of the football player who used to jokingly flirt with her, moved the CAUTION: WET FLOOR sign just in time to Mikey to walk by. Coach Tetslaff gave Tucker Foley detention for being on his phone. Again.

None of this was odd behavior, except it had happened the exact same way in her dream.

“C’mon Val, keep it together,” she whispered to herself. “This doesn’t mean anything. It could just be a crazy coincidence.”

The only thing in her dream that wasn’t common was the fight with Paulina. Paulina was often mean, but she had never come for her dad like that before. Valerie had always thought they had an understanding that Damon Gray, at the very least, was off-limits. If Paulina said the same things to her in seventh period English, then she’d know for sure something was up.

(She ignored the voice in her head that said that would be too late.)

So when English came around and Paulina couldn’t even look at her, she breathed a sigh of relief. As Lancer launched into his lecture, she glanced around the room. There was Paulina, staring at her desk, scribbling notes. Kwan, behind her, drumming his fingers on the desktop, humming something under his breath. Danny, behind him, head pillowed on his arms, not even pretending to pay attention. She smiled a little; maybe they hadn’t worked out, but he was still pretty cute when he was sleeping.

It happened like this: Danny gasped. She turned to the window to see something radiating green and fast approaching. Paulina screamed.

The world exploded again.

Loop 2

Valerie jolted awake.

—

Loop 0

"Oh my god, Valerie, do you have to be so dramatic? Now we're both in trouble."

Paulina dabbed the finishing touches of her foundation before snapping her compact mirror closed. Her cheekbone still throbbed where Valerie had gotten in one good punch before Fenton got in between them. It would probably bruise later, but Paulina was determined that no one but her would ever see it.

“Don’t say shit about my dad, then, and we won’t have a problem.”

Well, if Valerie would’ve ever reacted to the other things she said, then she wouldn’t have had to go after Mr. Gray. And besides—

“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

Valerie clenched her fist like she was going to hit her again. Paulina half-hoped she would, so that maybe she could come off as just the victim in this. She really didn’t want to deal with her papi if he found out about this little adventure to Principal Ishiyama’s office.

“My dad baked you brownies every year for your birthday, and you called him a fat loser to my face. You should've expected to get punched.”

"You and your dad's fall from grace isn't my fault. All I did was acknowledge it."

"Paulina, could you stop being an asshole for, like, five minutes?" There was Fenton, butting in again. For such a loser, he seemed to have a real problem minding his own business.

"I don't need you to fight my battles, Danny."

"I really just wish you wouldn't fight at al—"

Fenton gasped. She was conscious of something ripping her apart, then she was conscious of nothing at all.

Loop 1

Paulina screamed into awareness.

The numbers on her alarm clock read 7:15—15 minutes before she usually got up. One of her proudest achievements was when she perfected her 10 minute makeup routine, meaning she could get ready for the day with only 45 minutes before the first bell.

This was the first thought on her mind as she calmed her racing heart. Not whatever strange nightmare had woken her up, but that fact that it had robbed her now of her most precious, fought-for, extra 15 minutes of sleep.

She groaned aloud, flopping back in bed and squeezing her eyes shut, like she could go back to sleep through sheer force of will. After a minute, it became obvious that she was still too shaken to doze off again. She flipped off her alarm and, pushing herself to her feet, began her morning routine.

She showered. She ate breakfast—Honey Nut Cheerios, except they were almost out. She’d have to remind Alma to pick up more on her next trip to the store. She did her makeup, adding a little flare in her eyeliner and eyeshadow, since she had the extra time. She put on the outfit she’d laid out last night, careful not to smudge anything, got in her custom-made pink convertible, and left for school.

Later, Paulina would never quite admit how long it took her to notice anything was wrong. In her defense, her days had long since melted into a blur. She barely knew where one ended and the other began in a normal situation.

It wasn’t until Mikey slipped in the cafeteria that she caught on.

Mikey fell, often. But Tyson wasn’t usually the one who messed with him; this was something new. After he stole the sign and Mikey ate it, Paulina watched Tyson look directly at Dash, an odd little blush on his face as the other boy laughed.

Oh, Paulina thought, I’ve seen this before.

In her dream, she’d thought it weird that Tyson was trying so hard to get Dash’s attention when he could clearly do better. She noticed it because it wasn’t normal behavior. This wasn’t an everyday thing. For something like this to happen both in her dream and in her life was just… too weird.

She ran the events of her dream back through her head. Most of the day was the kind of unremarkable that she couldn’t remember for the life of her, except for right now and—

And the end. The fight with Valerie, Fenton intervening.

Her dying.

Well, if it was some fucked-up prophecy, she just had to keep it from coming true, right? She instigated the fight with Valerie there in English. She was big enough to admit that that part was on her. So then all she had to do was keep her big mouth shut and her dream wouldn’t happen.

Easy-peasy.

She couldn’t quite keep her hands from shaking through the latter half of the day. Every second was too long and not long enough. When she finally walked through the door of Lancer’s classroom, she nearly fell into her seat.

“Are you okay?” Kwan whispered from behind her. She coughed out something like a laugh.

The bell saved her from having to give an actual answer as Lancer ushered them all into their seats to begin his lecture. Paulina stared at her desk the whole time, avoiding Valerie’s desk at all costs. She scribbled on a piece of paper just to have something to do with her hands.

And… nothing. Valerie said nothing to her. A quick peek behind her revealed Fenton sleeping at his desk (as always). The tap-tap-tap of Kwan’s fingers on the desk between them kept pace with her beating heart.

She dared for a moment to think it was safe.

Then Fenton gasped. A green light overtook the classroom. She screamed as the world exploded again.

Loop 2

Paulina screamed into awareness.

#danny phantom #dp fanfic #my fic #danny fenton #valerie gray #paulina sanchez #time loop fic #yeah ok so i wrote a whole chapter #dont come for me #i'm still working on switch but this is living in my brain and i needed to get it out

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mitochondriaandbunnies · 8 months

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This is a re-post/archiving of a twitter thread from Oct 16, 2021, edited slightly for clarity.

Know what I haven't done for a while? Waxed philosophical about Miami Vice.

I'm currently stuck in traffic bad enough that people have turned off their cars and are chilling outside, so here goes.

So we have a houseguest who actually ASKED to be subjected to Vice, and Dan immediately suggested we watch Bushido, because let's face it, he's a Castillo Guy, and the "Vice Squad's Lieutenant is a Weird Weeb" episodes are some of his favorites.

I expressed some hesitation— Bushido is an episode that is very slowly paced (purposefully) and works best when you know the characters and know what the stakes are. We watched it anyway, and it didn't really land the way it should've (although the guest appreciated the Battlestar Galactica connections).

(Traffic cleared. In line for donuts now.) I tried to explain the fact that while Vice is technically an episodic show, it's a precursor to arc based shows in the ways it handles all the characters and their *emotional* arcs— case in point, in Bushido Sonny and Rico both seem *happy.* Castillo earnestly smiles for the first time in the show, and we learn the depths to which duty and honor matter to him (and yet, how much actual RULES really do not— his own code of honor supersedes the law even if he finds ways to pay lip service to it.)

This got me thinking about how Season Two of Miami Vice telegraphs an enormous amount about the characters' eventual arcs and the decisions they'll make throughout the series; practically half of S2 is episodes about Sonny Parallels crashing and burning and how that predicts his own eventual crash. Of course, those are the OBVIOUS things the show tells us about its cast. The thing I find fascinating about S2 is that a LOT of information is broadcast through music and images rather than the script, and Vice expects you to be smart enough to pick up on this and how it will come to fruition later in the series. So much of who Sonny and Rico are isn't spoken, and a lot of the things they say and do later in the series make a lot more sense if you pay attention to music and visual cues early on.

(Gonna drive again, will finish this thought in a bit…)

This, on top of a friend on the Vice Discord asking for a listing of all the music in Vice got me thinking (aloud) about the music in S1&2, and Dan mentioned there were 14 licensed songs in Prodigal Son alone. That reminded me that a few weeks back I'd had a revelation: I had realized something about You Belong to the City, a song specifically written specifically for Vice (I.E., it's a significant piece of music thematically and lyrically), and which plays in Prodigal Son over a sequence of Sonny being distraught in NYC at night.

I wrote about Prodigal Son last year (2020) and didn't mention that sequence at all except to talk about the weird aggressive roller skater who chases Sonny on a darkened road. At the time, I frankly thought it was a song that was chosen for its sound more than its lyrics, because the lyrics don't really fit with what we're seeing on screen.

The song starts playing about halfway through the first Prodigal Son episode, right after Tubbs reunites with Valerie and leaves Sonny alone in a city he doesn't know and doesn't have any connection to. I've mentioned before that I think, as the opener for S2, Prodigal Son is very much about home and belonging. And the thing is: Sonny doesn't belong in New York. The end of the episode confirms that, at least at that point in the series, it isn't really home for Tubbs either.

Sonny's a Southern Boy, most at home on a boat. You could argue there's some kind of ominous irony in the first 1/2 of the chorus:

Cause you belong to the city You belong to the night Living in a river of darkness Beneath the neon light

But it's not objectively TRUE.

When you start picking apart the rest of the lyrics:

You can feel it Starting all over again The moon comes up And the music calls You're getting tired of Staring at the same four walls

It really starts to fall apart. Sonny isn't *tired* of anything, he didn't choose to go out wandering or to be in the city at all, Tubbs just left him alone to be with his ex-girlfriend. This isn't wanderlust, like the song implies, it's aimlessness. The second half of the chorus and the second verse make it clear that this isn't an accident.

You were born in the city Concrete under your feet It's in your moves It's in your blood You're a man of the street

This... isn't a song about Sonny Crockett.

You Belong to the City *is about Rico.*

The second verse says:

When you said goodbye You were on the run Trying to get away From the things you've done Now you're back again And you're feeling strange So much has happened But nothing has changed

These are exactly the circumstances Rico is in in this episode—he's the titular Prodigal Son, returned home after a long time to discover things are in some ways exactly as they were, and yet he doesn't fit anymore. It doesn't describe Sonny— Sonny isn't "back," he didn't leave NY "on the run." Rico did!

So, why, then, is a song about Rico playing when Sonny is wandering the city alone?

Because the idea that Rico *belongs here in NYC* is Sonny's driving fear at this point in the episode. From his perspective, he's been abandoned. He's unmoored. (And I think this is what leaves his guard so far down with Maggie. He is painfully lonely at the best of times throughout the series; alone in NY he's bereft. First port in a storm and all that.) That the episode ends with Take Me Home is a repudiation of that fear—especially considering the more-or-less-overt flirting that occurs when they meet again.

Why is any of this important? Because Vice is a series that often takes Show Don't Tell as far as you can go without becoming French New Wave: Now on TV! I argued last year that Prodigal Son intended for a savvy audience to read Sonny as bisexual; the seemingly incongruous lyrical use of You Belong to the City both confirms that and adds the extra wrinkle that *Tubbs needs to be considered in that equation.*

Which is to say: the first episode of Season Two decides to make a statement about where the season is going, and that statement is that *the relationship between Sonny and Rico is import\ant and vital and that they both have a concept of home that involves each other.* Considering where the rest of the series goes, that makes the eventual unraveling of their relationship as Sonny falls apart just about the closest thing the series has to a full overarching plot.

THEIR PARTNERSHIP IS THE MOST IMPORTANT THING, FOLKS

GLENN FREY WROTE A SONG ABOUT IT

(and I'm done)

#miami vice #ricardo tubbs #sonny crockett #i wanted to save this before twitter fully implodes forever because i want to use part of it in an essay later

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letstalkwhump · 1 year

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Let's Talk Whump! No. 18

Welcome to Let’s Talk Whump, a series of interviews that spotlight the amazing people in our whump community! I’m Malice and I’ll be your host today.

Today I’m talking whump with the amazing @crash-bump-bring-the-whump!

Great to have you here, @crash-bump-bring-the-whump! Before we begin, do you mind sharing a little bit about yourself?

Hi! I’m Ruin, I’m a graphic designer and I love horror, drawing, and playing video games!

Alrighty, let’s get started! What does whump mean to you?

Whump is the juicy bits of a story! It’s the conflict, the agony, the struggle! The good stuff that we’re all here for.

How did you find the whump community?

I found it because I was poking around for more hurt/comfort things to read! @friendlylocalwhumper and @sweetwhumpandhellacomf were actually the first blogs I followed! Lux and the Hunter, and Valerie and Eos were what inspired me to make my own blog.

Do you feel like your view on whump has changed since you joined?

Ohhh man all that’s super changed is that I’ve found more tropes that I like! I knew fevers and environmental and self-sacrifice whump were favs, like who doesn’t love a good sickfic or someone taking a bullet for their loved one, but I also really really discovered my love of gore and lab whump, which are just amazing.

Everyone’s favourite topic: whump tropes! Which are your favourites?

Oh man, so many right now! I love a good drowning, and bouts of hypothermia are fantastic. Those tend to go hand-in-hand though so I usually feel blessed when I find stuff with those. I also love a good fever, “Stay with me”, kidnapping, and self-sacrifice though I’m not as big a fan of death, so this usually also includes intensive caretaking and probably a lot of worry from the other characters which is also amazing.

And your favourite piece you've written?

Oh this is hard, I have a few favorites!

If I can cheat a little bit and name two, the first is MO-1620, which is my current fav OC Mariano’s prison psych transcript! It was super experimental for me, and I had a blast getting to explore his feelings about his imprisonment and how he sees himself versus the reality of his actions and behavior and circumstances. And the second is my first BTHB 2023 fill, for Possession ! I’d gotten House of Leaves for Christmas one year and the formatting just really grabbed me, so I wanted to try playing with that! Plus I love a good human AU, and my OC Will was too perfect for this prompt.

I love the style and formatting of MO-1620! That’s such a unique idea! Do you have a writing routine?

I usually write during the night! I usually have some flavored water, probably a little snack, and I definitely write best if I can just get a big chunk out at once. I try to write regularly while not putting pressure on myself, so it winds up being every few days at least, unless I’m just super grabbed by something and it won’t let go of my brain.

Is there an easy thing for you to write or anything you struggle with?

Oh I love writing horror. If I can incorporate horror into something, or explore what I think is scary about a situation, then it flows SUPER well. Or if I’m getting to do something with a lot of dialogue. Or lately, smut, because consensual NSFW writing has really been going well too.

I also tend to struggle with delving more into environmental, in-depth descriptions. Or diving hardcore into tactics with my military whump stuff because I…am not a clever man sometimes. Also patiently staying on a linear timeline is the worst. I can never do it. Which sucks, because it puts me in a situation like now, where I KNOW how a bunch of characters WILL be and I want to write about it publicly NOW but first I have to REINTRODUCE them AND get them through the initial “I want to kill you here and now” conflict.

Is there anything you're working on at the moment?

I’m working on so much right now! I do written roleplays, my drafts are 15 posts deep, and that’s not even counting my random google docs. Uh I’m working on introducing Mariano’s war buddies again, a bunch of smut, I have a grim reaper fighting a losing battle against a demon, a prompt game request for a friend, a response piece for my co writer, more therapy vignettes for said war buddies, and– you get the picture!

Sounds like you’re pretty swamped! Do you have any advice you’d like to share?

Write what makes you excited! If you don’t want to read what you’re writing, change it! Make it self indulgent! Make more OCs that are specifically catered to you and what you love and want to see! That’s more fun to read anyway, honestly, I love seeing passion!

Shout out to your favourite writing/whump blogs, bffs or people who've inspired you. We're hyping everyone up here!!!

YEAH HERE WE GO! I’ll shout out my co writer @brinkofdiscovery, my bestie @friendlylocalwhumper, my accomplices @comfy-whumpee , @that-one-thespian, and @painful-pooch, uh god there are so many more people. So many people are so sweet! @actress4him, and @inscrutable-shadow, and like everyone in the various servers I’m in, I can’t name everyone or this post would get so obscenely long so quickly…

Anything you'd like to add?

Thank you for this!! It’s super fun to see this happening, and I like getting to see everyone talking about stuff.

Thanks so much for joining us today!

And to all you folks at home, have a whumpder-ful day!

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fereldanwench · 1 year

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I'm not entirely sure how much of DAI I'll end up replaying--I'm definitely not doing all the side quests, but I do kinda wanna do the DLCs since I totally slept on The Descent and haven't played the other ones since their release. But until I finish the game or get bored with it, I wanted to do slightly more structured rambling about Valerie in Thedas.

First things first: Yes, Goro also exists in this AU. How? Not sure yet, haha. Story-wise, I immediately envisioned him being a bodyguard for a Tevinter magister, but I'm still musing a lot on the specifics. Pretty-picture-wise, I might attempt to create him in DAI's CC. But that's a big might. I don't have a lot of confidence I could do him justice. I think looking into porting some of DAI's assets to Cyberpunk would probably be the "easier" method, but that's not something I'm interested in pursuing just yet.

Valerie's in-game build is a human archer. I was torn between archer and mage--In her canon, she's guns and netrunning, but more on the guns side so I went with archer. (Also, I just like playing as an archer. Old-time mutuals might remember that's what my canon Inquisitor was, too.)

Her face tattoos were an effort to find something to sort of mimic her cyberware, and of all the options, these were the closest. I was originally going to try it with scars instead, but I lost my first attempt at making her because the scars can crash the Enhanced Character Creation mod, and I didn't want to tempt fate again.

Although I'm obviously playing her as the Inquisitor in this, I don't actually want her to be a big damn hero in Thedas. I kind of like the idea of her being from a disgraced merchant family from the Free Marches who ends up doing fantasy merc work that eventually brings her to Tevinter.

I'm still very much trying to suss out where she'd be politically and religiously. She's been denying that she's the Herald of Andraste, which feels right to me, but I can't decide if she'd believe in the Maker or not. I generally tend to assume the average Southern Thedosian probably doesn't challenge that belief too much, but she might not be average in that regard. To be decided.

I don't have Cole or Dorian yet, but Valerie's quick first impressions of the advisors and companions so far: Leliana: The single most terrifying person Valerie has ever met (potentially across all universes, lmao) Josephine: The only responsible, reasonable adult in the room Cullen: Just because he's a good fighter doesn't mean she can't tell he's a total dork Cassandra: Brash and headstrong, but in a way Valerie very much likes; not too keen on the Herald shit, though Varric: Affable and clever, but senses a whiny streak that might get on her nerves Solas: Arrogant and condescending, has to begrudgingly accept his expertise Blackwall: His beard is so big because it's full of secrets, and those secrets are not about the Grey Wardens Sera: A little over-the-top, but in an endearing way (for the moment) Vivienne: Pompous and powerful, definitely not someone to piss off Iron Bull: Almost suspiciously honest, but she admires the bond between him and the Chargers

#oc: valerie v powell #g: dai #s: dragon age #au: thedas adventures #oc snippets

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nullshocked · 1 month

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HELLO ALPHABET SOUP TIME!! WOOHOOO!! (answer as many/however u want 🧡)

A, E, J, K, Q, U, V, X, Z!!

and ima throw in a 6 and 13 and 22 just for no reason dnjksnfdsa!!

OC Alphabet Soup / Questions About Your Durge I ASSUME THE NUMBERS ARE FOR THE DURGE QUESTIONS???

Going under a cut for obvious reasons:

A - Aodh'a Nbolo

One of my miqo'te boys! A kind of reserved, blunt, and grumpy conjurer who runs a clinic in Gridania where he treats people at little to no cost. He is a deeply caring person who is extremely bad at expressing himself and full of anxiety bees. Also has like four kids now (three he gave birth to, one he adopted as his own that's the daughter of his mate/partner by another mother) and the youngest two are twins and he is so tired all the fucking time for real.

E - Eyes

Not much to say because it's an OC I had when I was like 14 that I mostly just drew art of. I don't think there was anything I ever really like... did with him outside of that? He started with silver hair but I ended up making it bright blue later. I think he was blind maybe and the name was ironic??

J - Josef Hamilton

Dumb werewolf whose twin sister was a vampire, and he was pretty relentlessly cruel to her about that. Also just depraved bisexual vibes. I don't remember much beyond that about either of them, except that his sister was married to a rockstar AND had a girlfriend/wife (not legally married) and I think Josef was kind of pissed she got to be happy with her partners and their shared children.

K - Kaenea Dawnstar

Blood elf paladin I played for actual years. She was a war veteran involved in the Third War and the Northrend campaign, both of which profoundly scarred her emotionally as well as physically. She was a bit of a complicated mess determined to do the right thing in a world that... made that very difficult, a lot of the time. I love her.

Q, U - Nothing for these, unfortunately.

V - Vanessa Harley

Originally started as a Silent Hill OC with a split personality and got reworked. Her other personality just became her twin sister instead named Valerie. Vanessa is a violinist with a love of music and a quiet, soft personality contrasting with her twin's fiery passion. They also share a telepathic and empathic bond with one another. So that's neat.

X - None for this one either.

Z - Zion Tobias

Used to be a doctor, then he died and went to hell and became the side piece/personal manservant to Lucifer. Don't worry about how that works. I think he later got with a nurse if I recall? I dunno, he was. A guy.

AND NOW FOR THE DURGE QUESTIONS

6. How does your Dark Urge react to waking up with memory loss?

Jack wakes up with no memory and kind of not a lot of personality to start, which is eerie to the people he meets because he just seems so emotionally detached from everything around him. (He snaps out of it later and starts to kind of revert to some of his more benign tendencies pre-tadpole.) Overall he actually reacts quite calmly, but that's probably more to do with shock and the whole like... we're gunna crash if we don't do something about this ship crashing thing. Practicality.

He does spend a lot of time muttering "my name is Jack" to himself over and over again in some effort to like... make sure he doesn't lose the one piece of himself he remembers. This is also kind of weird to everyone he meets, before they realize what's up.

13. How does your Dark Urge feel about killing?

Pre-tadpole? He's good at it, but for him it's more practical and clinical than something he takes joy in. He kills for his father's approval, not because he enjoys the act of killing anyone. Post-tadpole, the ease with which he kills people (and doing while not in control of himself) is something that deeply frightens him, to the point that he actively avoids doing so if he doesn't have to.

22. What first impression does your Dark Urge give off to strangers?

"Sad wet cat man. Are we sure he's the Chosen of Bhaal? I mean look at him, he's got anxiety and he keeps clutching the pale one like a fucking freak."

#WOWIE THIS WAS LONG #UH #i answered all of them sorry #mailbox #syrips

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