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kettlefire · 19 days

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Broken Promises

It wasn't their fault.

Vlad kept trying to remind himself of that. It wasn't their fault when the prototype malfunctioned. When Vlad was curled on the floor of the lab. When screams tried to force their way out of his throat, but all he could muster was muffled choked cries. When it felt like someone had tazed him while also throwing acid on his face.

The pain had been unbearable. He couldn't focus. The voices were barely a haze in the background. Vlad knew something was wrong. So horrible wrong. He just didn't realize just how wrong it all went.

He didn't realize it when he was being wheeled out of the building. Bodies and people moving around him. Vlad could barely see anything. Cooled products were being placed all over his face, blocking out most of his vision. The coolness of the items only seemed to make Vlad's skin burn more, the feeling sinking down to his bones.

But Vlad had seen them. The two of them, just as the ambulance doors closed. Jack Fenton and Madeline Walker. The two held each other, tears streaking their faces.

But that's not what Vlad focused on.

No. What got him was the look of unfiltered horror and disgust. A look aimed at him. At whatever that portal had done to his face. A look that cut so deep that Vlad had felt something crack inside him. The last thing he saw before everything went black.

It wasn't their fault.

Vlad reminded himself after he had woken up alone in a hospital room. Nurses and doctors fussed over him, trying to tell him what was going on. Words that went in one ear and out the other ear.

Everything hurt. Every single atom in his body felt like they were boiled, burning until nothing but ash would be left behind. The medication didn't do anything.

They had to limit him, and he understood. They couldn't risk him overdosing, but it was hard not to cry and beg for more when the relief only lasted a few hours... A few hours that quickly turned to minutes.

After the fourth day, Vlad gave up on hoping. Gave up looking up every time the door to his room opened. He was at a high risk of infection, a burn unit for a burn the hospital had never seen before.

Then it happened. Vlad woke up from another fitful, short, painful sleep to voices. Gentle hands holding his through PPE. He barely believed it when his eyes landed on Jack Fenton.

Maddie hadn't come. Jack made a hundred and one excuses why she couldn't. But Vlad knew why. She was disgusted with him. She probably saw him as broken, tainted with how much ectoplasm had hit him.

Jack had been nothing but apologetic and gentle. His usual clumsiness and heavy hands seemed to vanish. Jack had doted over Vlad for three months.

When the burns healed but turned into infectious acne. Something Jack coined as "Ecto-acne". Jack swore up and down that he'd find a way to cure it. That him and Maddie were working on something, something to fix things.

To return it all back to normal.

Long evenings of Jack's visits helped Vlad. Helped him feel less horrible about how he looked or how he felt. The pain was still there, but seeing his friend's smile and attempts to make him laugh seemed to make it all bearable.

Then, one day, Jack didn't show up. Vlad tried to remind himself that the man had other duties in life. Jack had classes still, and it's already been three months. He couldn't expect Jack to throw his life away just because Vlad's life was on a pause.

When one day turns to a week, then to a month, then to five months... Vlad couldn't keep lying to himself. He had been abandoned. Abandoned completely by the people he thought would always have his back.

The pain seemed to just get worse once Vlad fell into the solitude. Even the nurses and doctors couldn't seem to stand being around him once the bandages were removed.

Vlad felt like he was dying. His body was a nerve ending current of pain. He'd have episodes of not being able to breathe. He'd constantly have cardiac episodes, code blues, crash carts, the whole nine yards.

The doctors didn't know what to make up of it. New teams, new faces, new opinions. Yet Vlad wasn't getting better. He was only getting worse.

As a year passed, and then two, Vlad lost hope complete. He resigned himself to a short future of pain, a hospital bed, and a lonely death. The tears dried up by the third year.

By the fourth year, Vlad stopped talking. He remained curled in his hospital bed. Barely eating, being fed through an NG Tube. Psychiatrist tried to talk to him, but Vlad refused. He completely shut down.

The only noises that ever left him were his choked sounds of pain, when he was choking for air, or when his heart decided to stop beating right.

By the fifth year, Vlad couldn't remember much. He had flashes of memories. Of lashing out to the hospital staff. He was constantly restrained to his bed. He was an angry shell of his former self.

By the sixth year, it was a repeat of the fourth year. Vlad couldn't feel anything else but pain. He found himself starting to hate Jack and Maddie. Hate that it was their prototype that did this. Hate that they had abandoned him when he needed them most. It was getting harder for Vlad not to blame them.

It wasn't their fault.

The seventh year was when things changed. Vlad had been resigned to the NG Tube, having to take oxygen in through a breathing tube as well. His body was barely functioning at this point, barely keeping his heart beating.

Vlad felt something change as he saw how it affected the staff. The ones that were there since day one. The ones that had tried to hold out hope, even Vlad had given up.

He saw it in their eyes. The second-hand pain they felt watching him wither away into nothing. Even as they smiled at him, they checked in on him. The pain was always there, always lingering.

Vlad hadn't realized anyone cared if he survived until the last few moments. When his breathing was nothing but raspy harsh inhales. When the beeping in the monitors started to slow.

Then he died.

Vlad was certain he died. He felt it, his body finally giving under the years of pain and loneliness. He remembers taking his last breath, feeling his body start to shut down, and his vision fading to black.

There was no big bright light, no flash of his life before his eyes. Vlad had just faded. He heard the monitor flatline and heard the people rushing into his room. Heard one of the nurses asking him to stay with them. In the moment, Vlad realized he should have signed a DNR. That was his last thought before he passed.

It wasn't their fault.

It was unexpected when Vlad suddenly felt his eyes snap open, his chest heaving with a deep full breath. A breath he hadn't been able to take for years now. He heard the shocked cries around him, something clattering to the floor.

Vlad's eyes were wide, breathing growing labored in shocked panic. He could feel his heart. His heart was beating strong and heavy in his chest. He hadn't felt that in so long.

Then there was the aftermath. Doctors scrabbling for any scientific reasoning for Vlad's sudden turn around.

His Ecto-acne had completely gone away within the first week. His organs had started to slowly get better, functioning as they should. The only crazy split second recoveries had been Vlad's heart and lungs.

There was another year of PT, of tests, and studies. Vlad made a full recovery, at least physically. The staff started to call it a miracle after the first few months. When it was cemented that Vlad wasn't going to suddenly decline, he was free to go.

And Vlad did. He spent eight long years in that hospital, eight long years alone and forgotten.

It didn't take him long to track down Maddie and Jack. They never separated in the time he had been abandoned. Vlad found a small town called Amity Park, the place where his friends had settled down.

His friends had moved on with their lives. They had gotten married and had a beautiful little girl. She reminded Vlad so much of Maddie with her spitfire personality. Even at just the young age of four years old.

Then there was the boy. Just a small young thing at only two years old. He seemed to have his father's clumsiness.

It was then. When Vlad was watching the happy family of four at the park, hidden away in the shadows. As he watched how happy they all looked. How happy Jack and Maddie looked without him.

Vlad had shed his first tears in years.

It wasn't their fault.

Vlad reminded himself over and over again. It wasn't their fault when he had his first accident. Almost a decade in a hospital, no friends or family, Vlad had quickly realized he truly had nothing.

He had no money. No support. No anything.

Vlad had struggled all on his own, barely keeping things afloat. Barely scraping by. Barely finding a place to sleep. It was hard, and Vlad had only found himself falling back into shutting down.

And then he phased through his bed.

After waking up in a muffled cry from a nightmare. A horrible twisted recounting of the accident. Vlad suddenly found himself in the room beneath him.

Thankfully, it was empty, but it left Vlad with a whole new problem. It took months of deep personal testing and trials. Of learning about all his new abilities. Finding out about what he was exactly.

It wasn't their fault.

Vlad reminded himself as he learned the truth about his recovery. Learned that he was now essentially half ectoplasm. Half ghost. Half dead.

Abilities seemed to pop up out of nowhere. First, there was the phasing, then the invisibility, then the flying, and the next thing Vlad knew he had fire abilities too.

Things finally turned around for Vlad. After sulking for months, turning to alcohol and drugs. Alcohol and drugs that only lasted for a few moments at a time before fading from his system.

Sure, Vlad turned to a life of crime. But he changed things. He stopped letting the actions of Jack and Maddie run his life. He became a millionaire over the course a few weeks. Then he became a billionaire.

The world was watching him. And for once, it wasn't as a medical mystery. Vlad felt on top of the world. He completed the work he had strive to do in college. He built his own portal, and it worked.

Years few as Vlad learned more. Learned everything he could about the Ghost Zone. As he established power and control over many of the ghosts. As they all learned just what a halfa was.

Dalv. Co become a national success. Vlad had stolen his money, but he had earned to keep it. Working his hardest to make a name for himself, to final be someone. Instead of just in the shadows.

It wasn't their fault.

Vlad reminded himself when he received the email asking him to host the twenty year class reunion. He reminded himself when he reacted out to Jack and Maddie, inviting them to stay with him for the reunion.

Even behind the hidden anger and pain. Vlad missed his two friends, his two best friends. If he could just get an apology, then maybe. Maybe Vlad could finally let things rest.

Except it hadn't happened. Vlad found himself feeling bitter as he looked at his friends. Looked at how much older they've gotten when Vlad barely aged a year. All that changed was his hair turning white over the years.

Bitter, as he watched them interact with their children. Children that Vlad didn't have. Children that Vlad wasn't even sure he could have if he wanted to. There was no evidence of a prior halfa, and Vlad didn't know how much that changed things.

Vlad had success, yes. But he had it completely alone.

It wasn't their fault.

Vlad barely kept a straight face in as they had dinner together. As Maddie and Jack boosted about Fentonworks and their kids. As Jack washed him with compliments for Vlad's accomplishments.

Vlad barely made it through, but he did. Kept it all together as he wished them all good nights. He kept it all together until the moment he went down for a quick drink.

He had to remind himself that he had guests. Ghost hunters in his home. Reminded himself he couldn't just fade down to the kitchen. It was smart he hadn't, considering the fact that Jack was down there. Helping himself to some leftovers.

Vlad couldn't fake it anymore. His mask slipped slowly as they sat in the dimly lit room. As Jack blabbered on and on the way he always did.

It wasn't their fault.

Vlad reminded himself again, not realizing it would be the last time. He found himself in a vulnerable moment. The pain and hurt in his eyes and tone were clear as day when Vlad finally broke the fake pleasantries.

"You promised."

The words had left Vlad as nothing but a whisper. His heart felt raw in that moment. Open and exposed as he felt those feelings. Those feelings from when Jack and Maddie first abandoned him.

Vlad hadn't meant to. He didn't want this to happen now. Not before the reunion. Not before Vlad truly got to see how much they all changed.

But it happened. And Vlad found himself aching to hear a few simple words. For Jack to apologize. Apologize for turning on the prototype. Apologize for taking four days to see him. Apologize for suddenly leaving him behind. Without so much as a word.

"I know."

All that hope, the desperation in Vlad's chest, broke the moment he heard those words. Heard the resignation in Jack's surprisingly quiet tone. A wave of pure despair and pain washed over Vlad in that moment.

Jack didn't apologize. A simple two word phrase that would have meant the world to Vlad in this moment. Jack didn't say it. Instead, he said two words that felt like a stab to Vlad's half-beating heart.

Vlad didn't say anything else in that moment. He downed the last of his drink before standing from his seat. Vlad was much too into his own feelings and thoughts to notice the shock on Jack's face. Or the way Jack's mouth opened to speak again.

Instead, Vlad turned his back on Jack. Although his tone was more hollow than Vlad intended. He managed to fake a layer of pleasantries. A second good night given that night as Vlad made his ways up the stairs.

He wanted nothing more than to curl up in his bathroom. Downing his sorrows in alcohol and maybe taking his rage out in his hidden lab below the surface.

Instead, Vlad found himself with a burning need for revenge. A burning need to break about Jack's life. Break apart Maddie's life. A life they built once leaving Vlad behind. A life they excluded from him for so long. Only just now showing interest to having him around.

No. This time, Vlad was putting himself first. His wants. His needs. His desires. It wasn't about the Fentons anymore. It was going to be about him. About him finding a family. Of having a community. A life outside of his economic and scientific success.

And maybe this time, Vlad was going to start with a certain fourteen year old boy. A certain boy that Vald had picked out at the start.

A certain boy whose heart beats half the average. Who takes in a breath every few seconds, just a tad too long. A certain boy that made Vlad's ghost sense trigger. A certain boy that reeked of ectoplasm.

A certain someone who might just know how it feels to be an abomination to science. To be so different that you may just be the only one to exist.

A certain someone that might just make his life a bit less lonely.

In this moment, Vlad finally realized the truth of his situation. Whatever has happened since that accident. Whatever happened in the years they hadn't talked. Whatever happens now, after this reunion was over. When Vlad finally made his moves. Whatever happened then, now, and in the future. He knew with unbridled certainty that...

It was their fault.

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vaguely-concerned · 8 months

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Thinking about the symbolic weight of smoking in the TLT universe that comes to the fore in The Unwanted Guest -- the way it moves through from person to person: Pyrrha smoked, and Augustine wanted to impress her in all her stone cold fox MILF James Bond glory (and tbf who wouldn't) so he started too. and even though as far as he knows she's been gone for a myriad and is never coming back, he keeps the habit. Ianthe sees something in the hollowed-out Faberge eggshell of Augustine that resonates with her, all that gilded eloquent emptiness and disdain through the ages, so she picked it up from him to try to emulate it. She picked it up so hard that Palamedes -- the exact spiritual antithesis of the 'smoking! on a space station! what a powermove' ennui Ianthe so admired -- spontaneously unnerded enough to even known how to, simply from a sort of contact contamination of the soul.

G1deon and Augustine sharing a jittery smoke after their near-Harrow experience during soup night, and it's the closest thing to any real sense of brotherhood that remains between them. Pyrrha going ten thousand years dying both literally and for a smoke (and then Camilla sold her fucking cigarettes (for a third of what they were worth, probably Pyrrha's own good, and also more importantly grocery money). what an entirely haunted time to be alive etc.). Augustine and Mercy trading a cigarette back and forth in the middle of their collusion over the love and murder of god.

An act of small and measured self-destruction in the name of something a little bit like connection when you're stuck somewhere in yourself where love itself dares not or cannot tread (ritualized, transmissible)..........