#i’m so cool i’m so normal except this one thing and it’s so lame
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talking to myself about what i like and what my hobbies are so i can go out and do something related to said hobbies out in the world so i can meet a friend and not die alone
#i’m so cool i’m so normal except this one thing and it’s so lame#i’m not like Those people!! (shut in tumblr losers) 😭😭😭#I SWEARRRRR
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Sun and the Star Review: (With snippets from the book)
Since I just finished The Sun and the Star I’m just gonna say the first thing I have a problem with is the TELLING and NOT SHOWING.
• And I was wondering if anyone thought that they made Will super lame and ooc compared to previous cooler depictions of him. Like he’s supposed to be Super Chill under pressure and the Calm Dude but he’s so WHINY the entire book. He’s constantly complaining, judging, screaming, crying or sleeping. The cool, chill vibe Will had before is gone which was one of the things I liked about him before.
• someone else said ‘Tsats Will thinks there’s something wrong with Nico, something wrong with his personality. Will thinks Nico needs to be “fixed” and “healed” and so he can be “normal” and then Nico will be actually appealing to Will. Tsats Will may love some parts of Nico (or at least thinks he loves some parts of Nico). But there are more parts of Nico that Will finds unsavory or unnerving or scary or unsettling or unsatisfactory or unappealing’ I agree sadly
• Like he tells Nico in the beginning of the book that he’s just as capable of survival as Nico (which I snorted at cause no) and then is the hugest burden I’ve ever seen on a quest EVER in a riordan book. Like Nico tries to lift Will up every time he passes out from ‘lack of sun’ (which is so stupid btw) and Nico can’t lift him up cause he’s not strong enough so he’s constantly WAITING on Will. And it’s really boring to read about how every few seconds Nico has to turn around and let his boyfriend catch up.
I think Will’s character could have shined and been more likable in a completely different plot and quest.
Like, I thought since they weren’t giving Will any weapons that his strengths would lie in being the fast athletic character that didn’t need a magic item in order to show off…
• the whole ‘role reversal’ caretaker thing made Will look completely useless. Nico did 80 percent of the work and Will sadly fell flat. I thought he was coming along to keep Nico safe and to heal him when he got injured but Nico was pretty much doing almost every job. It was like he was riding Nico’s coattails to become a ‘hero’ and prove himself. But he didn’t really prove anything except that he complains a lot when things get rough.
They didn’t give Will a character weapon (even Piper has one and she doesn’t fight that much. Neither does Leo and he at least uses a hammer) they made him exhausted the whole book so he didn’t have his normal physical strength, his backstory was also pretty boring.
• and Will keeps randomly getting irritated at Nico bc Nicos irritated at him. Like?? Your shitting on his underworld home every chance you get. I’d be irritated too.
• in previous books he’s described as an archer. Even tho Leo calls him ‘the archer dude’ in TLH he suddenly doesn’t know how to use a bow AT ALL. He only said he wasn’t as good as his siblings not that he was complete shit at it. Previously he used a bow and had a dagger in BOO. Also will randomly says he never wanted to be a fighter and loved healing but in previous books he’s insecure about just that. Also the book forgets Will is a BATTLEFIELD MEDIC. Like he can fight and heal just like Apollo.
• Will whines constantly. And it’s grating and annoying to read. Either about the lack of sun (you knew what you were getting into dumbass) or the dead people walking around or about Nico’s horrible ‘darkness’ that he has to heal. It’s like he never thinks of Nicos feelings when he says stuff. And there little ‘fights’ end unsatisfactory.
• The vibe of Camp-Half-Blood is nonexistent. It does not feel like camp at all. It feels like we’re in a 12 year olds fanfic mind. ALL of the campers are gone even though it’s been established MANY are orphans and we see no beloved background characters and background chaos that makes us smile like in the past books. It made me surprisingly more depressed than I thought it would.
• it’s also missing the mystique of a quest. Like going up to the big house to have the quest recited around a table full of cabin counselor demigods all fighting to be the third member to prove themself a hero (mostly the ares cabin) no matter how important a quest in pjo was for Percy Chiron ALWAYS enforced certain rules. Even if they broke later on.
• Loose Ends. Reyna is. Not. Mentioned. Once. It never comes up how Nico feels about his big sister friend joining the hunters like his other one did even tho in BOO he tore apart a courtyard cause they took her. The girl whose shoulder he cried into, the girl who was with him during his last quest. The girl who thought of him as a little brother and tucked him in her cape and said he resembled his surname as he slept.
Hazel is mentioned… but it’s literally just a couple shallow mentions that don’t have anything to do with the fact that he may not ever see her again if he revisits Tartarus. He mentions his beloved little sister who was the actual first light in his life (don’t know why the book says Will is) in a long time only once and it’s because he can’t remember something and thinks Hazel would?? It’s weird that he iris messages Piper at the end instead of Hazel. I thought that’s what he was going to do and then it was just a big cringe fest of Piper shoved in at the end talking about the label of her sexuality?? Like we actually care??
And It’s never stated that Nico finds out where Jason is even though HE SHOULD KNOW. He literally talks to Beckendorf and Luke when they die in pjo to find out where they went but he can’t figure out where his best friend is??
Also at the end of the book it says Nico still hasn’t redecorated his cabin even though he told Jason he was going to a YEAR AGO bc the ‘decor was disgusting’ (I think that was the worst loose end not fixed 😂)
Every other relationship of Nicos is thrown away so he can admire Will Solace’s mediocrity. who’s kinda a loser in this tbh….
• The Percabeth scene was weird. What relevance does sally jackson have to Nico’s story? Why did he have to go all the way to Percy’s bedroom to iris message him?? And the fact he uses the ship name Percabeth to describe them (which he’d never done in previous books) proves a cringe fan is the one writing this.
The fact that they don’t OFFER TO HELP Nico is ooc of them. Bc even if Percy wants to chill at college he would never want Nico to clean up his mess without offering his help. Also the fact that Percy turns to Annabeth and says ‘oh man I forgot about him’ is like… WHAT?? And they just say oh yea if anyone can get through Tartarus it’s you two.
To Will who’s never been on a quest and doesn’t fight (at least in this book) that’s a weird thing to say. Percy and annabeth only survived bc they’ve fought together FOR YEARS. And bc of Percy’s big three power. It was just a forced add in cameo. Would’ve been better if they didn’t know till the end that Nico got Bob out and then they suddenly see Bob in an iris message and start crying or something…
• it broke my heart that Nico gave his SKULL RING to Will. The last gift from Bianca Nico ever got and he gives it to someone that doesn’t even appreciate his element.
And what does Nico get in return? A coin. I mean, an engraved coin but still. It’s kinda symbolic of the relationship. Nico giving Will something of such RELEVANCE to Nico’s character, something he’s always described with wearing and then Nico receiving a token in turn.
• Will asks Persephone how he’s SUPPOSED TO LOVE NICO. Like I almost blew up my house with me in it at that part. It never feels like Will is as attracted to Nico as Nico is to him. Nico instigates every kiss (which is ooc of him and his reservedness to touch). It seems Will likes to look at others a lot because one of Nicos insecurities were of him staring at fucking Paolo. While being right next to his boyfriend, Will checks out other people… Like Nico deserves so much better. He at least deserves respect.
I would’ve appreciated Nico and Ghost Jason way more than this shit. At least Jason described Nico better and they weren’t even dating. And I liked Solangelo before this. Will never describes physical attributes that he likes about Nico the same way Nico does about Will. Like Nicos inky dark eyes and baby bat winged hair, and his smile that is apparently like winter sun breaking through snow flurries, and his hair smelling pleasantly of rain against stone (I think Apollo is more attracted to Nico than Will is). But Nico has to call Will hot every five min.
• Also I simply don’t understand the idea that Will being away from the sun would drain him to the point where he can’t keep up with NICO’S WALKING PACE within a couple hours. Like the super athletic, physically strong character that can lift Nico over his shoulders and run with him (and Rachel in TON) walks into the underworld and has to be healed by a stupid portable night light within five minutes.
• Don’t even get me started on his JUDGINESS. I always pictured Will as the guy at camp that thought Nicos powers were cool and stuff, right? And now he just judges every ‘dark’ thing nico does like darkness is synonymous with evil. And only his light can heal him. I HATED that trope and honestly thought they would make him more original. But I have to say it: he was so boring. Like in a way that made my stomach hurt.
• Wills kind of a jerk in this. Like it’s weird to read.
• The PACING. It was off the whole book. The only part i enjoyed was the part where they didn’t know they were dreaming (that part got me) but that was it. But like gorgras scene keeps overlapping with the rest of the story and I kept forgetting my place. The fact that riordan or oshiro or whatever 12 year old fan wrote this put the words FLASHBACK & DREAM SEQUENCE over the chapters gave it SERIOUS fanfic vibes. The pacing is simply not suspenseful enough for a place like Tartarus.
• And do NOT get me started on Tartarus. Okay I’ll say it anyway: it wasn’t scary AT ALL. LIKE ANY OTHER QUEST. Actually it seemed easier than other previous quests which is a big nope. Hades might as well have sent him to Target.
• And about the fact that is was HADES who gave him that prophecy is SO OOC of him. He loves Nico. Nico is probably Hades most favorite child ever as of right now and he sends him horrible nightmares, and a prophecy respouted 12 times to get him to save Bob (whom Hades could care less about btw) and go back to a place that he knows haunts Nico every day MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE!
Also HOW did hades give Rachel that prophecy? He has no power over the Oracle of Delphi.
• Maria and Bianca MAKE NO SENSE! How in the hell is there any piece of thier souls left when Hades gave Maria ancient rites and was the one soul Nico was not allowed to see and Bianca reincarnated. WHICH WAS FORGOTTEN BTW. NOW SHES BACK IN ELYSIUM?? Like?? Like maybe I could see Hades letting Nico see a piece of Maria but Bianca is literally GONE forever.
Nico was ooc. Like not too badly but still bad. But the fact that Will didn’t let Nico shadow travel even once irks me. The fact Will didn’t let him summon Jules Albert irks me. The fact that Will kept brushing off nicos feeling about the underworld irks me. The fact that Will called Persephone the most beautiful PERSON he’d ever seen right in nicos face and then asked his (insecure) boyfriend if he was jealous irks me. The fact that Will is BORING AS FUCK irks me
• And the COMING OUT story. Horridly ooc. Nico shouting to the whole camp he’s gay and getting all the other kids to come out too is like??? and apparently he asked out Will before Will had even come out?? Nico would NEVER do that. Especially since not long before Cupid had done the same to him. And apparently Nico is like the first out character in a MODERN GREEK camp with DIONYSUS as a director. No.
In character Nico would’ve shadow traveled back to his cabin or the woods the moment he figured out what was happening.
• the nicknames are extremely cringe. Little ball of darkness is used to much and it made me itch. I think Will simply calling him babe or something would’ve been simpler and made them seem more like a real couple instead of a caricature of light and dark.
• ‘he’d always been the demigod who WOULDNT eat.’ ………..what the actual fuck is this. Nicos always been naturally skinny but being starved in jar is what messed up his hunger. Not that he WOULDNT eat. Why is everything always his fault in this book?
Like, he didn’t ‘LET’ himself get to the point of starvation over and over. I mean first of all he became homeless at ten years old, probably had to steal food items. And most recently he got KIDNAPPED by TWO GIANTS and starved forcibly. And then when he got out he was under so much stress of what just happened to him in Tartarus, the war with Gaea, his forced outing, and having to lug an enormous statue ACROSS THE WORLD. but nah, I guess he just LET all of that stuff happen to him
• the references are BAD. Out of touch bad. Unfunny and the joke never becomes a joke. It’s never explained how a kid from the 1930s knows how to use the internet and look up lil nas x in a camp that doesn’t use any technology. Doesn’t explain how Nico knows about Care Bear powers (I didn’t even know that) and the beginning scene with the Star Wars ‘joke’ set a weird tone for the book and wasn’t even funny.
• I hated the cocoa puff demons coming to live with Nico. Like I was fine they got created ig even tho it was weird and kinda dumb but the fact that Nico is so keen to have his worst memories and insecurities sleep in bed with him makes no sense once again. In character Nico would’ve burned them with hellfire.
• Also Nyx is a unfathomably weak villain. A PRIMORDIAL GODDESS that even ZEUS fears is taken down in two seconds. Also she’s just trying to get Nico ‘accept his darkness’. WHICH HE ALREADY HAS DONE. The moment he called himself The Ghost King in battle of the labyrinth at eleven years is when he truly accepted his powers and who he was. So… why is she even in the book in the first place??
• Also Will STILL insists it’s Nicos fault he wasn’t accepted. And that it was all in his head….
Also Micheal Yew was simply never mentioned again. Neither was lee fletcher. If they were I missed it.
There were a COUPLE of cute parts and lines but really this is simply too weird (and bad) to be canon to me. This book is just not canon. I see it as fanfiction from a random author that riordan probably let write the entire book or at least most of it. I think sadly riordan put his name on this for money and for fanservice because the writing is first draft material.
(And it kind of feels like they got this version of Nico and Will from cringy meme posts about them. Like, you know the ones where Nico’s all like ‘I am darkness, i am a vampire’ and Wills all like ‘come on, my uwu baby, no more shadowtravel for you, doctors orders~’ 🤣😭)
just because they thought that’s what the twelve year olds wanted and not realizing that a lot of those posts are simply made as a joke and not actually taken seriously in canon…. And that most people in the fandom thinks those are bad cringeposts
#tsats#nico di angelo#the sun and the star#tsats review#solangelo#rick riordan#book review#book rant#tsats rant#tsats preview#tsats spoilers#so bad#im cryin#nico rants#hazel levesque#jason grace#reyna ramirez arellano#bad writing#no plot whatsoever#publishedfanfiction#ooc#bad tropes#notreallyfuntoread#not cannon compliant#not canon#everybodyooc#pjo#percy jackson#pjo fandom#pjo hoo toa
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Some untitled platonic stobin angst for you all, set in July of '85. Apologies and thanks to @sharpbutsoft; I'll write something happier next time.
(also on ao3, for those of you who prefer interacting with fics there)
“Not bad for a guy who didn’t realize gay people existed two weeks ago.”
Steve would have been annoyed that Robin thought he was that dumb, but really, he was too relieved she was able to joke about it. The day he’d gotten out of the hospital she’d been skittish. Like she’d thought he’d start hating her once the world went back to normal.
As if he could ever hate Robin.
“I knew gay people existed.” He still couldn’t roll his eyes without thinking he was going to puke, but he could use scorn. “I just didn’t think you could be gay.”
“Really?” She sounded surprised. “I mean, I know I’m not, you know, obvious, because I’ve never had ‘dyke’ painted on my locker or had other girls not want me in the locker room. But, I kind of feel like I should be? Or, not like people would know I’m gay immediately, but that it shouldn’t surprise them when they find out? Like, I’ve never dated a boy, and I don’t like to wear make-up, and my taste in clothes- Though I guess you only saw me in my Scoops uniform. Or only remembered me that way. But I’d literally just told you that I’d had a crush on a girl. Which, even without everything else, is kind of a dead giveaway.”
“True, no normal girl would like Tammy Thompson.” He was never going to let her live that crush down.
“First, the word is ‘straight.’ Don’t say ‘normal’ like that. It makes it sound like there’s something wrong with me.” Steve nodded. There was nothing wrong with Robin. Except her lack of self-confidence. And maybe her taste in women. But he could help her with those things. “Second, I had a crush on Tammy for like three months almost two years ago. I have pined hopelessly over plenty of other, much cooler girls since.”
“Anyone at the moment?” he asked. Robin glanced away from him, so yes, there was. “Okay, who is she?”
“Thirdly,” Robin ignored his question. “What did you mean I couldn’t be gay?”
Steve did not want to answer that.
“Whoever she is, she can’t be as lame as Tammy.” Steve really hoped Robin would let him change the subject. “Still not cool enough to date you, but-”
“Steve.” She wasn’t going to. “You think I’m not going to like your answer. It’s bad, is that it?”
“Yep.”
Robin took a breath.
“Okay. Well, whatever awful shit you thought in the past, you obviously don’t believe it anymore, right? So, bad or not, it doesn’t change where we are now.” Steve was pretty sure it could, or Robin wouldn’t be asking him. “Though, it’s not that you thought I was too pretty to be gay, right? Because that stereotype has always bothered me.”
“No! Not that you’re not pretty. Gorgeous, even. If I were your type, I’d still be totally into you.” Steve still was into her, but it was getting a bit less romantic every day. “I love you.”
“Love you, too, Dingus.”
“No, that’s why. Why I thought you had to be, you know,” normal, “straight.”
Robin frowned at him.
“You thought you couldn’t fall for a girl who couldn’t like you back?” she asked.
“Not exactly.”
“What then?”
“It’s hard to explain.” It barely made sense inside his own head. Putting it in words, making it all make sense to someone else might be impossible.
“Scoops burned down with the mall, Steve. I’ve got nowhere else to be until we get a new job.”
“Okay, well, you know how people say that gay couples don’t really love each other the way, um, straight ones do?”
“Yeah, and it’s complete and utter bullshit.”
Sure, Steve knew that now. But before Robin how was he supposed to learn any different?
“Right. But I’m an idiot, remember? So what I thought was that gay people were somehow unlovable. Not just romantically,” he explained. “Friends wouldn’t be able to love them either. Or their families. Everyone who was supposed to love them just couldn’t. Even if they tried. It wouldn’t be their fault, really, but-
“But I fell for you. It wasn’t just that you were beautiful. Or funny. Or smart. Or that you were there and didn’t hate me as much as you pretended to. I loved you enough to stop being all hung up over Nancy. And since I loved you-”
“I had to be straight.” Robin finished for him. “The logic’s sound-ish, but your premise is absurd. People aren’t unlovable, for one. Besides, wouldn’t that lead to people identifying gay kids early on? If a parent didn’t love their toddler, wouldn’t they want to know why?”
“Maybe. But it’s not like it’s something they’d talk about. What parent is going to admit they don’t love their kid before it’s obvious to everyone else who the problem is?” Robin scowled at him. It was a scowl that said she didn't like his answer, not that she thought he was wrong. He liked that he could tell the difference.
“You’re such a weirdo, Dingus.” Robin leaned her head against his shoulder. Gently, careful not to jostle him. “How did anyone ever think you were normal? Did we just know you were good at basketball and never listen to anything you said?”
“I’m better at swimming.” He also hadn’t said much at school. Talked a lot, sure. Or, at least, as much as everyone else.
“Yeah, yeah. And you can talk to girls without stuttering and chug beer while doing a headstand. All hail King Steve and his perfect hair. We payed so much attention to you that we didn’t pay any at all.” He’d never thought of it that way. “And we overlooked how weirdly your brain works.”
“If it works at all,” he said, with a soft laugh.
“It works fine,” Robin disagreed. “Just, kind of backwards? Or sideways, maybe? I mean, you thought gay people were unlovable when pretty much everyone else thinks we don’t love at all.”
“Don’t love? But that’s clearly stupid.” Steve didn’t think he’d ever heard a dumber idea and he’d spent most of his life hanging out with Tommy H. and Carol. “Loving someone is easy. It’s like a layup.”
“Some people are bad at basketball, Steve.” That was fair. Dustin would probably have trouble with a layup. He might even have trouble dribbling. “Is it really easier to think people are unlovable than to think some people might be bad at loving?”
There was a pulsing sound in Steve’s ears. He wasn’t sure if it was from his headache or his heartbeat.
“I never had trouble loving people.” It was almost an admission. He didn’t think he could get any closer.
“Oh, Steve.” Robin was smart. She could hear what he hadn’t said.
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Just being honest here but I am trying so hard to not hate Judith… not because I hate her but because of all these yt feminist who only started liking her because RJ exist. It’s hilarious how they use her to hide their racism. Idk if it’s just me, but anytime someone says anything untrue but harmful about Rj, no one bats an eyelash… there are literal hashtags of people bullying the real kid but that’s okay. His Instagram is filled with folks calling him the N word.Yet the moment someone says something true about judith, who is FICTIONAL!!! NOT A REAL HUMAN BEING.( her not being ricks, and being the product of Shane ) man they get soooo upset… and we all know why!
Rick wanted RJ… this isn’t the same for Judith, but he learned to love her.
RJ is ricks legacy, and Judith is not. Yt feminist are accustomed to seeing themselves as wanted, as desired, and when a melanated little boy was desired and planned for, and not the child of a love affair between a white Baby mama and her baby daddy… their true colors show. Historically and stereotypically, a baby mama was a black woman begging to be free… except Michonne is so loved, and chosen, and declared to be the love of ricks life. So often, a black woman has a baby with no support, a baby by a different man, yet Rick truly wanted and planned for his little namesake. Michonne was content, Rick is the one who Wanted RJ. So when you have a flipped narrative where Lori, a white woman is the baby mama to Shane, bringing a white child to Rick that by yt feminist standards, Rick should want her and not have mixed feelings like we saw him have in the beginning, considering he couldn’t even look at Judith when she was first born. (considering that a normal human would have a hard time accepting a child that will forever remind you of how shitty your wife and best friend were) usually it would be a black child in Judith’s shoes, but it’s not. Rick has two kids, and the black one was wanted, planned for in a two parent and healthy home that wasn’t toxic, unlike Judith, who comes from a background usually associated with blackness
They use exscuses like, “ he’s not badass he doesn’t do anything like Carl .” But let’s be honest. RJ is 7… we’ve never seen Carl that young.. yet we’ve seen Judith at Carls age, and yet she hasn’t done anything remotely cool like Carl. So if anyone’s got plot armor it’s her… or they’ll say, RJ had awkward lines, when his made the most sense as he always considered his father the brave man. That is the only thing he knew him as.
Listen, I love how Michonne loves Judith because she truly adopted her, not because she had to but because she wanted to…. But I am so happy that Rick, a white man who married a black woman wants his biracial son, cared about his personality, and not just whether he was alive or not, because it really is making these dude bros upset… and yt feminist
It’s the fact that you can make fun of any child on the show, but god forbid you make fun of Judith or say something that’s the true, it’s the end of the world… a hit dog gonna holler
Have you ever noticed.. it’s okay to say RJ doesn’t deserve the hat… despite him being a grimes. It’s okay to say “RJ live execution.” It’s okay to say that RJ is lame and weak, despite him being 7. But if you point out that Rick has a hard time accepting Judith in the beginning, if you point out that he dreams of Carl and Michonne to stay alive at the CRM, but dreaming of Judith never even crossed him mind… if you point out that everytime Rick asked about Judith it was only to ensure that she was alive… which is on brand considering he told Michonne, “ I had to accept that… so I could keep her alive.” Not so he could love her or bond with her… if you point out all these little nuggets that shows that Rick, a fictional man, struggled to accept a fictional child that will forever carry the DNA of Shane and Lori… suddenly every yt feminist within two mile radius becomes triggered.. I’m just sick of it. Truly I hope there is a S2, where RJ is older and more marketed… purely just to piss certain people off.
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Gab
Since we’re on the topic of MC’s flirting, can we just quickly talk about how bad some of the dialogue was? 😬 Not exactly a narrative issue, but still prominent enough that it needs to be commented on because it only got worse as the story progressed. And honestly it wasn’t just the corny pickup lines. It was also the excessive interjections and puns during fight scenes. But I don’t want to waste too much time on this because it isn’t exactly unique to this book. Choices has its fair share of cringeworthy lines in other books. I think it was just intensified in this one because of all the other blunders they made.
Gear
Something that was more of a problem for this particular story was the gadgets. The cool devices and weapons agents get to use have always been a notable part of the spy genre. But imo the ones in this book were lame af and also kind of few and far between. We got an electric glove, the Identi-print, infrared goggles, and an electrostick (which was somehow still supposed to be enticing even though we already had the glove). Like these people work at what’s most likely a multi-million, maybe even billion, dollar agency. Why is the woman they were originally tasked to use as an informational asset basically reinventing the wheel and making clunky items that GAIA has probably had stored in their basement for 10+ years?
And despite what it may sound like, this is more of a dig at the writers than Vivian because I don’t actually mind that she was making things for MC and the LI. But where is the imagination??? Idk I just find it hard to believe that they couldn’t come up with anything better than a fingerprint scanner, something you can buy online, and two objects that do the same thing for diamond choices 😒 If anything, the scanner and goggles should’ve been free. And they could’ve chosen one of either the glove or electrostick to include as one of a few other premium gadgets offered throughout the book.
The one positive was that all of the items truly were extras (as premium options should be). But even with that, none of them were used enough to make them worth it. I got the electric glove, which I believe was used the most and was probably also the most novel of the options. But honestly, I could’ve gone without it. So I’m glad I didn’t waste diamonds on any of the other ones.
Garb
Last but certainly not least though was the fashion. Y’all know I have to at least mention it. I was sorely disappointed in pretty much every outfit except for the auction dress. And I really shouldn’t be surprised because PB is known for making ugly outfits atp. But this was their chance to redeem themselves just a little bit. Yet as per usual, the did not understand the assignment.
A spy should literally and figuratively be dressed to kill always. Sleek, sexy, and sophisticated. Those are some of the other qualities I think of when I hear the word. But the wardrobe we got was the exact opposite of those things. An ill-fitting casino dress, a boring suit, diaper pants. A MESS. Not to mention the fact that they did actually create another decent outfit, but it was completely the wrong time for MC to be wearing it! Like why would I pay to give her pneumonia and frostbite because she’s wearing a bra top in the middle of a Russian snowstorm 🤦🏽♀️ And this is coming from someone who normally doesn’t mind slightly unrealistic outfits in these kinds of books/movies because those types of things are usually close to my style. But they had to know that was ridiculous 😒 And I’m afraid I’ll never understand why the closet is something Choices constantly struggles with.
#choices tpa#choices the phantom agent#playchoices#when I tell y’all I was incredibly disappointed in the clothes and the gear I really think that’s an understatement#especially because I hate the TH:M MC faces as well#like why were the only weapons we got to use a standard gun and two electric items IF you bought them#where’s my safe house with a secret room filled with cool stuff and sexy outfits 😭#long post
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October 14: Vague Blogging Troped Exchange
I am feeling very tired, which honestly is probably good because this is a normal time for me to go to sleep. I should capitalize on that. I don’t even know because like I haven’t done that much this weekend! Yet again I’ve done way less than I intended!
I have started work on my Troped Exchange fic, which, thank goodness, because I really, really needed to start. I continue to be plagued by the same doubts that have followed me every step of the way thus far. In particular, I’m really afraid that it isn’t scary (some irony there I guess…). I just… I don’t know. I do like the idea. I like it a lot more than I did at first. I think it is cool. I am mostly avoiding the fear that it’s actually just kind of dumb and transparently lame. But it’s not a horror to me. I’m trying SUPER hard to make it a horror, to add in stuff I feel is objectively scary, but it’s just not hitting.
Or at least it’s not hitting ME that way because of course horror is very subjective. I think this particular sub-genre of horror is interesting to me but not scary to me. But that doesn’t mean it’s objectively not scary. That’s what I’m trying to tell myself anyway. I’m trying to tell myself that if I just add in things that I think are objectively spooky, SOMEONE will be spooked, even if that someone isn’t me.
I don’t generally tend to feel anything while I write anyway. I mean, that sounds very sad but I just mean that my dominant emotion while writing is that I feel myself creating, and I care about, like, the craftsmanship of it. What should this sentence be like or what’s the pacing or what’s a good word for right here or how do I get from x to y, etc. etc. I’m not feeling sad if it’s a tragedy or happy if it’s a comedy or scared if it’s a horror. I care about what I can do to create that emotion in future readers but I don’t feel it myself. I feel like this is pretty obvious but from what I gather other writers don’t experience this, so that’s why I’m explaining in such detail. Anyway, so I can feel things about my own writing when I re-read it later. And there have been a couple times when I’ve been a little spooked out while writing horror in particular but that’s sort of an exception. One of those time was while writing the legend-within-a-story of The Wanheda Tape, and I think that was because I was writing kinda late at night and also because that IS my type of horror, and the other time was when I was marathoning spooky ficlets in 2018, and then it wasn’t one particular story, it was just the collective experience of writing so much horror so fast.
So all of this is just me trying to convince myself it’s fine. I mean in the grand, grand scheme it’s obviously fine. Nothing bad will happen if the story isn’t good or if it isn’t very scary. I am trying my best at my extracurricular activity that I do for fun. The main thing is that I finish it in time. I’m a little worried about that but not very much so—I have plenty of time still. I’m worried that this is the only thing I’ll write this spooky season, which would be a real shame because I really do want to write those ficlets, but… really getting this done is the most important. I’m just really, really curious to hear other people’s opinions on it, if any. It’s hard to write in a vacuum, not sure if I’m heading in the right direction or not.
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Nana Episode 3 - Nana and Shoji, Love's Whereabouts
“Nana”? More like “Baba” “is” “You”, the hit game.
This episode picks up where the last one left off, with what’s at the bottom of the staircase. Pinkish Nana is drinking something which may or may not be blue, because the entire scene is blue. Shoji shows up. Now it’s time for Pinkish Nana to accompany the other members of the quartet at a bar. Also, Shoji brainwashes her into dragging everyone to the beach using a clever psychological technique, so dramatic beach music plays. And by “dramatic beach music”, I mean the show’s opening.
Next, it’s nighttime, so Pinkish Nana aggressively enforces heterosexuality. What a funny girl. She says normal things like “I won’t assault you, so don’t worry.” Shoji decides not to rape Pinkish Nana. She’s so grateful, she starts singing an annoying song.
Shoji finds out that Junko and Kyosuke are going to Tokyo. This is the first half of the “everyone in this quartet will end up in Tokyo” arc, I guess.
Pinkish Nana is like an artificial intelligence or something I swear
Anyway, this is the story of how Pinkish Nana had a bunch of applications get rejected.
Shoji kinda sucks, yelling at Pinkish Nana because he’s mad she’s not dating him. It’s not her fault she’s insane, and also, stop being an entitled freakazoid “Shoji” if that is your real “Nameji”. Why are any of these people friends with Shoji, they should simply kill him
Pinkish Nana starts crying so hard she attracts the attention of the sexual businessman. What an interesting turn of events... I wonder when her life will get good. Maybe Cool Nana will be the one to make that happen.
Kyosuke stares at Junko and Shoji’s cool cell phones because they’re not in the room. This is the story of “Junko and Shoji trying to find Pinkish Nana way harder than they are trying to find their cell phones”.
Pinkish Nana decides to forgive “Sexual Businessman Asano”. That’s nice and all, but I hope he dies. I hope every man in anime dies. Except Kyosuke.
Pinkish Nana needs to find Shoji. Junko is, uh, fine.
I hope this whole anime isn’t backstory, I need something less lame than all this to happen or else I’m gonna be sad
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prompt for u: any interactions between Certified Normal Emperors joey and joel
It’s one of the last places Joel looks, because honestly, who cares about that guy, right? Joey’s like, annoying. And very fun to blame for things. And honestly, Joel didn’t visit the Lost Empire that often, so like, why would he go check there?
Except there’s no one around anywhere, and frankly, Joel’s beginning to get concerned. So he figured, sure. He’ll check that Joey guy’s empire. He was proud of those builds in a way some of the other emperors weren’t. Surely Joey would be around. Surely someone was. Surely. Surely.
He’s in the bottom of Joey’s temple when he finds him.
Joel looks down. He kicks Joey with his foot.
“Hey. Get up. Lazy.”
He doesn’t get up.
“Aren’t you like, immortal or something? Honestly, the way half of the others go on, you’d think they all don’t know we respawn or something. Get up.”
He doesn’t get up. There are black and red cracks across his body, dark and terrible. Horrible choice for tattoos, or maybe just poor craftmanship, given how cracked he looks. Can humans be built with poor craftsmanship? Joel can’t remember. This is normally the sort of thing he’d ask Lizzie, or Jimmy, but they aren’t here, which is why he’s busy kicking the Lost Emperor while he’s down, trying to convince the man to get up and help find people.
It’s not working very well. Joel reaches down to turn the man’s face to him. Joel sees Joey’s face.
Joel puts Joey back down. Joel sits down. He tries very hard to not look at Joey’s face a second time.
“Well. That’s a problem. You seem to be dead,” Joel says to the corpse. “Hey, wait, isn’t that crown from back when you were pretending to be in love with some demon? Why’ve you got that on?”
No answer. Unfortunately, dead people don’t tend to answer questions anymore.
“You know, I don’t know how to do this,” he says, after a long moment. “Funerals aren’t really a Mezalean thing. I suppose I should bring you over to the Copper King. Pixlriffs. He knows all the death things.” Joel waves his hands around. “I mean, he’s also still around. Sausage shows up sometimes? But, like, you know, that’s it. We’ve got me, Pixlriffs, and two dead bodies, apparently. Who knows if there’s - oh, right, Scott’s dead, you don’t know...”
Still no response. It’s getting annoying.
“I can’t believe it looks like you fell on your head. What a lame way to go.”
No response.
“And now I have to deal with this. I really don’t know how funerals are meant to work. Like, do I tie you to a dinosaur? Your dinosaurs are cool. If I invented a funeral, I’d use the dinosaurs, except no, that seems like the sort of thing Pixlriffs would act all disappointed about. Not that I care about his opinion, or anything, given that he’s the only non-Mezalean I even talk to anymore.”
No response.
“You know, this sucks,” Joel complains. “Why am I still here? When Lizzie and Jimmy come back I’m going to yell at them so much. And - and aren’t you supposed to be immortal or something? You have all those totems! It’s your whole thing!”
There’s blood in his feathers that Joel hadn’t noticed before, where the creeping black and red cracks haven’t overrun them. The feathers are brightly colored in a way the artist in Joel appreciates. The rest of him just feels...
“I was hoping you’d at least, I don’t know, try to frame me for murder? It would have been funny,” Joel says, poking the dead body again before putting his head in his arms and feeling a silly need to breathe in and out deeply, as though that would make his terracotta lungs do anything more or less than they already do. “Or I was going to frame you. For horse murder, mostly. People don’t find regular murder as funny anymore. People don’t...”
He pauses for a while.
“...rest well, Emperor Joey. I’ll get PIxlriffs before I do something stupid and make one of your silly made-up gods angry at you or something.”
He stands up, but before he goes, he pulls a blanket out of his inventory. While this may be the second emperor they’ve found dead, it’s hardly the second corpse. And while Joel still is frankly baffled by funeral customs in general, he can at least give them something that someone made for them. Joel thinks it would be sad, if no one had made anything for him. Life’s all about making things. He and Lizzie had made their wedding bands together.
Ah. Maybe that’s why Joey has the crown on.
He takes a deep breath and leaves again to go yell at Pixlriffs, only stopping to quietly inform the first actual citizen of the Lost Empire that he finds alive of something that he’s pretty sure they all already knew long, long ago. He leaves before they can yell at him, too, or cry on him, which is worse. He has other places to be looking.
#answered#prompt ficlets#most of a month later i come back with. this. i'm so sorry this probably isn't waht you wanted and yet#a bee fic#empires smp#magicalmanhattanproject#death tw#ONCE AGAIN THE ROULETTE WHEEL OF GIVING ME A PROMPT LANDS ON SOMETHING THAT THE PROMPTER CLEARLY DIDNT INTEND#(...i owe you another one though sorrel i just don't know joey that well)#empires smp finale
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Best friend’s ex | Benny Weir x reader
Fandom: My babysitter’s a vampire
Request: “ Um if you don’t mind can you write for mbav? Something along the lines of the reader and Ethan try a fake relationship thing cause Ethan asked her to? Like to get to Sarah/ or get her attention. And everyone is shocked cause they thought Benny and the reader would date instead cause all 3 of them are childhood friends”
Genre:Fluff mostly but I guess a little angst torwards the end
Warnings: some arguing and also it’s LONG, don’t say I didn’t warn you
A/N: This has a little Ethan x reader too but over all it’s Benny with a guest apperence from jelous!Benny torwards the end (or at least that’s what I was going for)
~~~
“Wait, you’re dating?! Like for real dating?!”
You clinged tighter to Ethan’s arm “Yeah, we are” but you weren’t. You didn’t want to lie to your friends and it was honestly making you kinda uncomfy but you were doing it for E.
“Ok so how long has this been going on for?” asked Benny. You and your entire friend group were gathered around his locker and you decided to break the news to them about your and Ethan’s “relationship”, which was all bullcrap. He had asked you a couple nights before to pretend. He was hoping it would get him closer to Sarah.
“Um, no more than a month” E said, trying to sound as confident as possible and doing a fairly good job at it. Of course you saw right through him but everyone else seemed to buy his act.
“Well that’s...interesting news” Sarah laughed awkwardly
“You think so? Why?”
The group went silent for a moment
“Well, just cause” Sarah started, nervousness laced into her tone “I mean I would have guessed that Benny and Y/N were going to get together eventually.” Rory and Erika just nodded in agreement while Benny tried to suppress a nervous laughter.
“I mean, come on guys” he said “ I’ve known Y/N for just as long as Ethan.”
“Yeah, but you two just always seemed, I don’t know, closer?”
“Well” Ethan interrupted “ seems like you were wrong on that one.”
Suddenly aware of how rude she sounded, Sarah babbled some lame excuse and left quickly, face red from embarrassment. Rory and Erika left as well, each in their own direction, but not before congratulating the couple once more. Benny was the only one left.
“You good Benny?” E asked
“Yeah, I guess it’s just interesting seeing you like this”
“I hope you’re not mad or anything I mean we…” you were quickly cut off by Benny
“No, no, absolutely, not! I’m really happy for you guys! My two best friends are in love, that’s really cool!” A pink tint made its way onto your cheeks hearing Benny say “in love”, even though you knew it wasn’t true. E smiled at you and hid his face in your hair. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he placed his hands on your hips, swaying you two back and forth for a moment
“Alright, well I gotta go. Chem starts in a few” you told your boys and headed to class, not before hugging both of them and leaving Ethan with a quick peck on the cheek
As soon as you got to class however, you texted your “boyfriend”
“Think that went pretty well”
“I think so too. Everyone seemed to buy it!”
“I know!” you said and the conversation ended like that.
You switched your attention back to your teacher, who was discussing your next assignment but even though your eyes were on her, your mind was replaying Sarah’s comment on repeat. You and Benny, huh? You couldn’t say you disliked the idea or that you’ve never thought about it. You’ve always felt different when hanging out with him compared to all your other friends.You felt more free and comfortable. You couldn’t stop the smile on your face from the fuzzy feeling you got just thinking about Bens and you together.
“So how long are we gonna be doing this for?” you texted Ethan. Now that you thought about it, you could never date Benny after this. The sudden realisation made your stomach twist in knots. He would never even go on a date with you if he thought you to be Ethan’s ex! Bro code or whatever but you couldn’t blame them!
“I don’t know for sure, I don’t see why it should last more than a couple months.”
“Ok” you didn’t mind helping E. He was a great guy and one day, some amazing girl is gonna see that and be all over him, even if it’s not Sarah! And he’s going to fall in love and have a beautiful wife and a happy family and this thing you are doing right now is just gonna be a silly high school memory to look back at. You tried not to overthink everything like you usually do and go with the flow, have fun.
It was surprisingly easy to do. Holding hands and occasional cheek kisses didn’t mean much and you never had a “proper kiss”, telling everyone you were simply not fans of PDA. It didn’t feel much like you were a couple, just closer friends. Touchier.
About 4 months down the line, you and Ethan go on your last “date”, which really just meant pizza night at Morgan’s.
“Thanks for all this Y/N, I know you didn’t have to and it might have been awkward at times but it means a lot that you went with it all this time” Ethan says sincerely while pouring you a glass of soda
“Don’t be silly E! You are one of my best friends. I would do anything for you.”
“Yeah but, now you and Benny won’t be…” he didn’t finish his sentence, as if he wasn’t sure if bringing this up was even a good idea or if it was gonna make you mad. You told E about your crush on your best friend not long after your first day as a “couple”. You couldn’t lie to him and quite honestly, you needed someone to vent to. The more you thought about Benny, the more it hurt and while you weren’t mad at Ethan for bringing it up now (you knew he had the best of intentions), it was putting you off
“Let’s not talk about that tonight” you said softly
“Right, yes, of course! Sorry” you giggle and reached out for your glass of soda, raising it up
“A toast!” you declared dramatically, making E laugh “To our breakup!” Ethan raised his own glass and clicked it with yours
“To our breakup!” he said before you both took a sip of your drinks
You laid down on the couch, getting ready to watch Scare Finder. Your head was resting on one of Ms. Morgan’s decorative pillows and you placed your feet on E’s lap. He rolled his eyes at you and you giggled
“I love you!”
“I love you too babe” he joked before laying down next to you and wrapping you in a hug. The couch was a bit too small for the both of you to lay down side by side and you felt the left side of your body hanging off the edge but E’s arms were around your waist, holding you and you felt safe
“Can we..” Ethan whispered nervously “can we keep cuddling during shows even if we aren’t boyfriend- girlfriend anymore?”
“Yes of course” you giggled
“Good, cause this is really comfortable” he whispered in your neck
“I know, I love it too”
~~~
Your breakup was a much bigger deal than you anticipated.Your friends seemed not only shocked, but heartbroken too. You didn’t tell them anything about why you ended your relationship, saying it was too early and you didn’t feel like talking about it but that you were still close friends and nothing was going to change
Things went back to normal afterwards, except now you were single and so was Benny and you couldn't help the invisible pull, dragging you closer and closer to him. Everyone of his silly jokes made you crack up and you couldn’t even be mad at him when his failed spells ended up in a big mess that you and the friend group needed to solve. You hadn’t realised how much you missed him until you broke up with E. Whether or not that relationship was real, it felt like a real reason to stay away from Benny. It felt like you were taken because everyone else belived you to be. You couldn’t make a move on him because everyone knew you to have a boyfriend but now you didn’t and you couldn’t help yourself from looking at B in a different light.
You were over at his house, helping him pack some herbs he had to organise for his grandma, as punishment for wasting all her old ones on some spell. You were stuffing dried leaves in tiny jars, while Benny was busying himself attaching little tags to them, with the name of each plant.
“Thanks again for coming to help me, you didn’t have to”
“Anytime Bens, you know I’m always here for you” you looked at him and smiled sweetly. He looked into your eyes and said
“I know, Thank you” you nodded and switched your focus back on the plants, hoping he wouldn’t notice the blush on your face. Lucky for you, he started telling a story that happened in his geography class and things slowly fell into their usual, casual place, at least up until you had to leave.
You placed the last little jar in its respective spot on the shelf
“I think this is it, right?” Benny asked
“It should be”
“Perfect, I’m in dire need of a snack. You want chips? I have some upstairs”
“No, it’s late, I should head home”
“Um, ok yeah. No problem” but none of you moved after that, you just looked at one other for a little bit, until the awkwardness got too much and you took your backpack and headed to the door
“Thanks again” Benny said right when you reached the door
“No problem” and then time froze again. You got lost in his pretty eyes and barely noticed his chest rising and falling faster with every second that passed until, you both found yourselves in each other's arms, kissing deeply and desperately, as if you’ve waited all your life for this. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling at loose strands, his hands running up and down your back, bringing you as close to him as possible. All your senses were intoxicated with him and finally, the little pit in your chest disappeared. Your lips fit together like puzzle pieces but than, all of a sudden, Benny pushed you away aggressively
“No, I can’t do that!” his back turned to you, but you saw the red in his face and his hands went to his head, massaging the back of his neck just like you had been doing
“Benny…”
“No, no, you are Ethan’s ex and we can’t do that! I can’t do that!”
“B, listen to me!” you tried to step towards him but at your slightest movement, he jumped back, finally turning to face you
“Y/N, that was a mistake and I’m sorry! We shouldn’t have done that! It was a mistake” your eyes stung from the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks
“Don’t say that…” you could barely hear your own voice and were genuinely surprised when B replied
“Of course it was! As much as I wanted to do it and as right as it may have felt, it’s barely been a few weeks since your last relationship with MY BEST FRIEND and your best friend too and we can’t, I CAN’T do this to him! You, you guys dated and…”
“But we didn’t!” you said
“Of course you did, are you out of your mind?” Benny looked at you, teary eyed and desperate “I saw you, we saw you! Holding hands and cheek kisses! He had his arm around your back every moment of every goddamn school day and every time I wished it was me! He had all of you and he could hold you during movie nights and spend all his free time with you and kiss you and run his hands through your hair and everytime he did it I imagined that I was in his spot, hoping you would look at me with the same love and admiration that you looked with at him but now it’s too late! It doesn’t matter that he didn’t cherish you better while he had you because I still can not take you! I can’t do that to him!”
“Benny it wasn’t real!”
“What does that even mean Y/N?” he was yelling now, but you knew he wasn’t angry, just hurt. You saw the tears in his eyes and how hard he tried to stop them from running down his face.
“We weren’t ever dating! We just pretended!” the madness in his eyes turned to a question, an invitation for you to continue “It was all a show Bens. He wanted to impress Sarah. He asked me to fake a relationship with him.”
Benny leaned over the table, resting his body on his arms. He seemed to be thinking for a while, until he said “That’s a stupid idea”
You laughed “I thought so too when he told me” Benny seemed to think some more before saying
“Such an Ethan idea to have” which only made you laugh more
“So it was never real?” he asks you finally
“No! It was just an act” but even now, Benny couldn’t say anything. He was looking at his hands nervously. You took a deep breath and said the one thing you could think of
“He knows if that’s what you are wondering” the boy looked at you with questioning eyes again “Ethan I mean”
“Ethan knows what?”
“That I like you” Benny straightened and looked at you with soft eyes once more, you felt your cheeks heat up and turned to walk away but Benny quickly grabbed your wrist and pulled you into him, holding you in a tight hug.
“So, does that mean I can kiss you again?” a small smile tugged at your lips
“Please do”
#mbav x reader#mbav#benny weir#benny weir x reader#benny weir imagine#benny weir fluff#benny weir angst#ethan morgan x reader#ethan morgan imagine
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the girl next door ~ rodrick heffley;diary of a wimpy kid
word count: 1675
request?: yes!
waaaavyguurl “hey! could you do a rodrick heffley imagine where in rodrick rules the fem!reader has just moved in a house next to the heffley’s and she’s in maths class with rodrick. she’s kinda a genius, so he asks her to help him with hw and they start dating ?? maybe with an insert of greg who understands they’re together when he sees them dancing at the party ?? thank u <3″
description: in which rodrick falls for the smart girl next door
pairing: rodrick heffley x female!reader
warnings: swearing
masterlist
His mother had been adamant about the entire Heffley family going to greet their new neighbors just a day after they moved in. Susan spent the whole night making brownies, with Manny’s “help”, and had them boxed up and ready to go the next morning.
“What if they’re allergic to brownies?” Greg asked after Frank had to literally drag him out of bed.
“They’re made from scratch, so the only allergies in it are dairy and gluten,” Susan responded.
“Why couldn’t this have waited till tonight?” Rodrick groaned. “Give them some time to breathe before we scare them off.”
“If we wait too long we’ll look like rude neighbors!”
Rodrick rolled his eyes. He was sure none of the other people on the block had went to meet the new neighbors yet, but there was no talking Susan Heffley out of something once she set her mind to it.
She made the boys dress up in their nicest clothes, which for Rodrick was a pair of jeans without holes in them and a plain black t-shirt, before they made their way across the street. Rodrick let out an annoyed sigh as Susan knocked on the door and they waited.
A girl that looked about Rodrick’s age answered the door. Rodrick couldn’t help but stand up a little straighter as her eyes wandered over the family before her. “Uh...hi?”
“Hello!” Susan greeted. “We’re the Heffleys; I’m Susan, this is my husband, Frank, and my boys, Manny, Greg, and Rodrick. We just wanted to come over and welcome you and your parents to the neighborhood with some homemade brownies!”
“Nice to meet you,” the young girl greeted. “I’m (Y/N). You guys actually just missed my parents. They both work morning shifts, they won’t be home until sometime this evening.”
Rodrick held back his desire to tell his mother “I told you so”.
“Wait, so you’re here by yourself?” Greg asked. “That’s so cool!”
(Y/N) chuckled. “I appreciate the gesture none the less, and my parents will, too. I’ll tell them you stopped by, they’ll probably invite you guys back for dinner sometime.”
“That’d be great!” Susan said. “We’ll wait for your call!”
Greg and Manny were the first to break away from their parents, excitedly running back to the house to play video games and watch cartoons like they normally did on a weekend morning. Susan chased after Manny, telling him not to run across the street without her, while Frank just silently left. Rodrick stayed a moment, trying to think of something to say to (Y/N).
“I-I guess I’ll see you at school on Monday,” he finally managed to say, immediately cringing at the stupid thing he decided to say.
(Y/N) smiled at this, though, and responded, “Yeah, I’ll see you Monday. It’ll be nice to already know a friendly face.”
Rodrick smiled back and nodded. (Y/N) closed the door as Rodrick turned away, silently celebrating to himself before joining his family back at the Heffley household.
~~~~~~
That Monday, Rodrick tried not to seem too obvious as he looked around for (Y/N) at school. He couldn’t hide his disappointment when he couldn’t find her the first half of the day.
When she walked into his sixth period math class, Rodrick smiled widely and waved at her. She smiled back and quickly sat in the empty seat next to him.
“Hey! I finally found you!” she said. “This school is so big, and there’s so many people!”
“Yeah, it is pretty big,” Rodrick responded, lamely. “How have your classes been so far?”
(Y/N) shrugged. “They’re, you know, classes. I feel like I can’t form an opinion on anything yet.”
Before Rodrick could ask anymore questions, the teacher came in to start the class.
Math class always dragged on, but that day it felt like it was going at a pace even slower than a snail. Rodrick wanted nothing more than for the class to just end so he could talk to her more.
“The answer is six,” (Y/N) whispered to herself.
Rodrick looked over at her. “What?”
(Y/N) looked at him. Her face was confused at first until she realized she had spoken out loud. Before she could respond, the teacher asked, “Do you two have something to add Miss. (Y/L/N)? Mr. Heffley?”
The two exchanged a look before (Y/N) responded. “The answer to the equation is actually six. You mixed up on your second to last calculation.”
A snicker came from her classmates as the teacher rolled his eyes at her. “I can assure you my calculations are correct Miss. (Y/L/N).”
“I’m not saying they’re all wrong, just the second to last calculation.” (Y/N) rose from her seat and made her way to the whiteboard. “May I?”
“Oh sure, since you know everything.”
(Y/N) ignored his sarcastic tone and erased everything that was on the board except for the starting equation. Rodrick watched as (Y/N) rewrote the entire equation down to the last step, in which she changed the workings to equal six.
The entire room seemed to hold their breath as (Y/N) turned to their teacher. He had a blank expression on his face before letting out a sigh. “Okay, I see your point. Well done Miss. (Y/L/N), now go sit down.”
(Y/N) returned to her seat next to Rodrick, her cheeks tinted pink.
When class finally ended, Rodrick and (Y/N) left together. “That was so impressive! You’re, like, a math genius.”
“My parents have been teaching me basically since I was born,” (Y/N) explained. “They basically made me an overachiever since birth.”
“That’s cool, though. Maybe you could help me with my homework sometime.”
(Y/N) smiled. “Yeah! I’d love to!”
~~~~~~~
Rodrick watched (Y/N) talk to some friends in the living room from his spot in the kitchen. He couldn’t help but smile when she laughed at whatever one of the girls had said.
(Y/N) had really opened up in the months following her moving in. She had gained a great group of friends and had opened up a lot to the people in their grade. She was no longer the shy new girl, but now the smart, semi-popular girl that everyone loved.
“How long till you tell mom and dad about (Y/N)?” Greg asked as he came to stand next to his big brother.
“Disintegrate child,” Rodrick hissed. “Wait, how do you know about me and (Y/N)?”
Greg scoffed. “Come on, Rodrick. You’ve never looked at a girl the way you look at her, among other very obvious tells. You are totally in love with her.”
“Whoa, whoa. Back it up little bro. In love is a strong word. I like her a lot at the most.”
“Like who a lot?”
(Y/N) walked up to the brothers and threw an arm over Rodrick’s shoulder. He felt his heart starting to race at just her close proximity, and he couldn’t stop the smile that spread on his face knowing she was there next to him.
Okay, maybe I love her a little bit.
“What lucky girl has taken little Rodrick’s heart?” (Y/N) continued with their “friends” bit.
“You can drop it. Greg knows about us.”
(Y/N) sighed with relief as she dropped her arm from Rodrick’s shoulder. “Good. There was no way I was going to be able to pretend that Rodrick liked someone else. I was sure I was gonna crack.”
Rodrick wrapped his arm around (Y/N)’s shoulder and kissed her forehead. (Y/N) leaned into his embrace, a dreamy smile on her face as she peered up at her boyfriend. Greg looked between the two of them, an amused smile on his face.
“I’m happy for you guys,” he said. “But, just remember (Y/N), you could do so much better than Rodrick.”
Rodrick untangled himself from Greg just long enough to feign a threatening punch. Greg took off as soon as Rodrick’s hand went up, disappearing into the crowd of party people around him. Rodrick shook his head and rolled his eyes as (Y/N) laughed.
“He’s smarter than you give him credit for,” (Y/N) pointed out.
“Don’t give him too much credit, it’ll go to his already massive sized head,” Rodrick warned her.
(Y/N) laughed before giving Rodrick a quick peck on her lips. “So, Greg has already figured us out. When do we tell your parents?”
Rodrick sighed as he pulled (Y/N) tightly against them. “Realistically, they’re the next step. I don’t need Greg having anything else he can hold over my head as leverage or blackmail. But...I really don’t want you to meet them. Not because I don’t think they’d like you, they already love you more than they love the three of us. It’s just...mom is super overbearing, especially with girlfriends. The last one I had that I brought to meet them, mom straight up asked her if she planned to ever have kids and get married after graduating high school.”
(Y/N) covered her mouth to try and stifle the laugh that came out. She had met Susan Heffley a few times in passing when doing homework with Rodrick, and even in the few times she had met Rodrick’s mom, she knew that Rodrick’s story was not an exaggeration.”
“Dad is just boring,” Rodrick continued. “He doesn’t do much besides work and collect figurines. He’ll probably ask you if you’ll talk me out of being in the band and actually doing something with my life.”
(Y/N) leaned into Rodrick again. “I won’t push you. You have your reasonings for not wanting me to meet them, and I understand those reasonings. But, just so you know, they’re not gonna chase me away from you. I’m in this for the long haul, Heffley. You’re stuck with me until you get tired of me.”
Rodrick smiled and kissed (Y/N) again. “I’ll never get tired of you, (Y/L/N).”
#rodrick heffley#rodrick heffley imagine#rodrick heffley x reader#Devon Bostick#devon bostick imagine#devon bostick x reader#Diary of a Wimpy Kid#diary of a wimpy kid imagine#imagine#one shot#request#fanfiction#fanfic#fandom
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Hi! Could I get HC from the guys? 👀 How they would always react to catching the reader seeing them "badly", in addition to the fact that he usually avoids them, but with his brothers it is incredible and they feel bad because they think they do not like him. But she actually likes them and she looks at them like that because she "studies" them to draw them and she is too clumsy and shy to talk to them, that's why she ends up avoiding them. Until finally he catches her drawing them with lots of hearts or maybe they'll find her notebook with lots of portraits of them.
It's kind of funny because when I study people to draw them, they think that I look at them with hatred xd maybe I should increase my glasses prescription
God, glasses are such a pain in the ass but I have to wear them. If I don't anyone within my near vicinity doesn't have a face. But why they gotta get dirty so easily???? Makes me wanna explode or something
TMNT Headcanons
The boys w/ a quiet reader who is fine with his brothers but acts cold around him and stares a lot
Michaelangelo
mikey couldn't describe his disappointment upon realizing that you didn't want to be friends with him
well, you never actually said that to him
but he was pretty sure it was the case
you'd never made an effort to be friends with him
stared at him an awful lot though, but there was always something off about your gaze when you looked at him
like you were sizing him up, scrutinizing him, like he was an opponent
it kinda worried him
to add to that, you didn't even attempt to look embarrassed when he caught you staring
you'd just stare harder
on your end it was quite the opposite
you always found the brothers fascinating and you LOVED studying their anatomy, you'd confessed this to Donnie early on and he happily indulged in your questions
and you loved how easily you got along with the boys
well, except for Mikey
but it wasn't for a lack of trying
whenever the orange sporting turtle came around your normally flamboyant personality crept back into its little corner and hid
any words of excitement that had previously been with you died in your throat
for the longest time you didn't understand it
and you hated not understanding things, so you turned to your only outlet
that's how you ended up with an entire sketchbook full of the youngest brother in vastly different styles and poses
you had a separate book for the others, none of them as detailed as this
and when you stared to analyze you'd fallen into a habit of not looking away when caught
by your logic, if you stared back hard enough he'd look away first or just assume you'd zoned out
he didn't
and on one hectic day you'd left your sketchbook open on the kitchen table in your rush to get to work
you hadn't even noticed the slip up until Leo texted you to let you know during your shift
instant panic
in truth, Mikey was the one who discovered the book upon waking up from his nap and he'd spent the next three hours analyzing every drawing
when you finally dropped in after work to grab your book the turtle was waiting for you with it in hand
he'd asked you if you hated him
you told him no and accepted your sketchbook from him
he was relieved and screaming excitedly, just in his head
"Do you maybe wanna hang out sometime?"
You sighed in relief and nodded
"If you're cool with it- you don't think I'm weird do you?"
"I mean- you are talking to a turtle..."
you lightly shoved his chest and smiled, although it faded within a second
"Oh hush, 10 o'clock tomorrow? I'll bring snacks."
he was so stunned he could only shoot you finger guns in approval
Donatello
Donnie genuinely couldn't understand your unease around him
he'd followed all the proper expectations of holding a conversation
he was polite and engaging
so why wouldn't you talk to him?
this boy has read so many social blogs to try and figure out what he was doing wrong and he just couldn't put his finger on it
you were fine with the rest of his brothers, you'd stay up for hours laughing and gaming with them
you'd even sat still long enough to listen to Leo explain some old Japanese myth that he'd read about in a book
but with him it was always a quick, cordial greetings and farewells with bland small talk in between
Donnie had picked up pretty quickly that you weren't interested in any sort of interaction with him
and he convinced himself that that was okay
but that didn't explain the staring
he'd caught you in the act several times, eyes narrowed and locked on him
especially when you were alone with him in a room or just in the lair
the poor turtle just couldn't put his finger on it
then he caught you drawing, he noticed early on that you always carried a small sketchbook on your person but he didn't think much of it
and it wasn't so much that he caught you drawing, in fact, he wouldn't have noticed if you hadn't snapped at him while he was trying to do a sudoku puzzle
"Damn it Donnie! Stop moving! If I fuck this arm up one more time I'm gonna decompose!"
he'd quickly moved back into the position he was in prior
"sorry?"
but you'd gone silent again, occasionally glancing up from your work and running your eyes along his frame before looking down again
nearly twenty minutes later Donnie had finished the puzzle and it seemed as though you had finished your drawing
"Uh- can I ask what are you-"
"I'm drawing you but you kept moving your arm and making me mess up. You always do that when I draw you so every damn picture I have of you stays a sketch because you always come out looking like a fucking octopus."
He just stared
"Sorry, I uh- I didn't mean to explode on you like that. I'm just- I'm really bad at talking to you okay? It's so easy with everyone else but you've just gotta be so damn smart all the time and I worry that you'll think I'm boring so I just... don't talk to you?"
Donnie is stunned™
You refuse to show him the drawing until you can complete the line art and color it
But at least he knows that you don't hate him
Leonardo
To be completely honest Leo didn't mind that you were distant from him
You created an aura of calm when you were around and you always managed to distract his brothers while you were present
And he enjoyed the alone time
But after a few months that calm acceptance turned into jealousy
Not that he would ever admit it
He would just push it off and ignore it, that usually seemed to work
So why wasn't it?
And your obvious staring problem didn't help at all
Leo didn't spend much time considering his appearance but something about your gaze made him self conscious
And he hated that with a passion
Why was it that you could hold entire debates with his siblings? Even his dad for gods sake. You'd have hour long conversations on almost everything but whenever he tried to say hello you'd make up some lame ass excuse and scamper away
He just wanted an explanation
It appeared that the answer resided in your sketchbook
You'd left it open on the couch when Raph had called you away to spar with him
Leo very delicately flipped through the pages, careful not to disturb some of the polaroid pictures of his brothers
He was admittedly surprised to find pictures of himself among the pages
One of him in a handstand, another of him meditating, there was even one of him mid sneeze that you'd recreated with pencil and paper
The image of his eyes was the most startling, but the book held no polaroid of his eyes
You drew them from memory
And he was shocked when you returned to the room and didn't immediately panic
But that might have been because he didn't try to withhold your book from you
"It took me three months to color them, your eyes. I could never get the shade of blue just right."
"I'm gonna be honest with you y/n, I really thought you didn't like me."
You had the nerve to roll your eyes and follow it with a laugh
"I don't. I mean- I do but no, you just remind me a lot of myself and I haven't exactly figured out why yet. I thought that maybe if I drew you it'd be easier to figure you out..."
"Well did it help?"
You grinned
"I'm talking to you, aren't I?"
Raphael
If there was one thing Raph hated it was not understanding something that was right in front of him
which is ironic, as a much younger version of himself probably couldn't care less
and a part of him wishes he didn't care about it so much
he wishes that your blatant avoidance of him didn't upset him
but shit, it got under his skin better than any needle ever could
was it too much to ask for you to just tell him what he said or did wrong?
was he asking too much of you?
but on the same scale you'd never shown obvious dislike towards him, you were never rude and you sure as hell didn't talk shit about him to his brothers
you got along great with them
in fact it was getting more difficult to remember a time before you became a part of his family
he'd become so used to your presence that it no longer put him off when he found you hanging around the lair
but in another sense he was certain that you hadn't spoken more than three sentences to him in your time knowing him or his family
so what was the reason
several months in he finally caught onto the staring, your narrow, glassy gaze locked onto his body and refusing to look away
he stared right back at you
this annoyed you for several reasons
because within five seconds your very peaceful drawing session had turned into a staring contest and your eyes were getting VERY dry
then you exhaled in a half-sigh and looked back down at your paper
"Huh, I guess your head is more of an oblong shape..."
he took offense to this
"What tha' hell is that supposed t'mean?"
now your eyes held more of an amused silent judgement, you begrudgingly held up your sketchbook
"I'm drawing you, you fucking walnut."
"Oh..."
now you rolled you eyes and tossed the book to him, he nearly dropped it and fumbled with the pages
your annoyance was quickly growing
"Careful with that."
He flipped through the pages at a snails pace, assumingly because he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing
you had some real talent
when he looked back up at you he was wearing that crooked smile
"and here I was thinkin' that my eyes were just green."
Hope I was able to get this down pretty well! I really enjoyed writing this one! Thanks for the patience!
-Mars 🌠
#tmnt bayverse#tmnt headcanons#tmnt x reader#writing blog#writing requests#askbox#ask response#tmnt leonardo#tmnt donatello#tmnt raphael#tmnt michelangelo
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Sultry Blues-
Rating: ❌18+, Explicit❌
Pairing : Gojo Satoru x Insecure! Fem Reader
Word count: 2.5 k
Warnings: Trigger warning for insecurities (not specified), Body Worshipping, a bit of food play, cunnilingus, Semi-public sex.
The faint sounds of ringing bells from the shrine was still in the air as you made your way to the inner structure of the prestigious Jujutsu academy. The path to the meeting room was straight and lined with stone carvings which gave the entire place an ancient look. You had a lunchtime date with your boyfriend, who would, hopefully be on time so you could be on your way.
This place always made you uneasy, not because of the dangerous connotations it brought in everyone’s lives but it was the people who freaked you out the most. To you, each one of the teachers as well as the students looked like some characters straight from a book, elegant, strong and perfectly capable of doing things normal people like you could only read about. Not having enough confidence on yourself physically or mentally worsened every time it dawned on you that you were dating the most perfect being of them all.
Perplexing wouldn’t even began to describe your state of mind when Satoru first took interest in you, sure looks or status didn’t meant anything to him but even in terms of personality you never thought the two of you would get along, so much so that you would become such an irreplaceable part of each other. But you knew his feelings for you did nothing to stop the ache in your heart when you saw him getting ganged up on by a bunch of women. Women attractive than you, smarter than you and definitely stronger than you.
This was exactly the place where all those kind of women lived making you feel even more of an outsider in his world. Not wanting to cause Satoru any worries you tried to psyche yourself up by picking up your pace only to be met with a hard shoulder to your cheek.
“I’m sorry! I wasn’t looking”, you looked up at the stranger, she was tall, her sturdy figure seemed like she was also a sorcerer but her ID pass was tucked on the breast pocket of her coat along with her youthful face indicated she was a student, you squinted to see that her name was Lisa and as you were about to apologise when you saw her sneer at you.
“ Ugh… outsiders. Don’t you know how to walk properly? Or did you not learn that in your no name school?”, her condescending tone took you aback.
You knew you didn’t exactly belong here but she wasn’t cutting you any slack for being a civilian either. You wanted to ask her why was she being so rude but your queries were cut off as by the girl.
“ No need to explain yourself I already know who you are, I’ve seen you following Gojo- San like a lost puppy a lot of times, seriously it’s like you don’t even have a presence without him.”, with a pause you finally thought her pointless berating would come to a stop but she went on.
“ He has a reputation to uphold here so don’t go around embarrassing him with your airheaded and average looking face”, now with THAT she crossed the line but as much as you wanted to give her a comeback all you anger turned into self loathing in a matter of seconds and you stood there dumbly not being able to defend yourself from the onslaught of verbal attacks that even you partially agreed with.
Not even bothering to look at her when she passed you thought about her mean words that were half untrue. You knew dating a popular guy would include more that just a little bit harmless envy of girls. At this point you’d be lucky if you didn’t get attacked by one of your boyfriend’s fangirl. But, It wasn’t about Satoru anymore, you thought. It was about how you were letting the jealousy of his superficial admirers who didn’t even knew only knew his name and face. Before you could delve more into your darkening thoughts you heard a cheery voice call out to you.
Bag at hand, which probably contained some sort of dessert you saw Satoru gleefully making his way towards you. It took you a few seconds to plaster a believable smile to your face so you could greet him normally.
“ Wow I can’t believe IM the one who had to wait around this time”, placing a tiny kiss on your nose he pulled you in for a hug, his warmth seeping into you put your mind at ease and help you distract yourself from the horrible encounter before.
“ The meeting was pointless and even the snacks turned out to be lame”, whining a little he waved the bag in front of you. A convenient store vanilla sponge cake with a packet of strawberry sauce was right in front of you and honestly if it were you, you’d probably eat it without question but knowing his love for quality sweets it was understandable why he’d complain.
“ Well actually, with the right toppings and modifications even convenient store packed cakes can taste top class!”, thinking about all the ways you’ve experimented watching diy food videos you started thinking up of ways to serve it to him.
“I see, that’s a good idea and I think it’ll give us some headstart for our date wouldn’t it?”, saying that he gestured you towards one of the buildings that lead to the back exit.
Walking hand in hand Satoru came to a stop which seemed like a closed off gate that was not in use anymore.
“ Why are we here? I thought the back exit was the other way around?”, confusion painted over you face you turned to face your mischievous partner.
“ you said you’d help me eat them, and I think it’s a pretty good place, don’t you?”, stepping closer he urged you to take a look around. The area didn’t have any benches, buildings or even people around and the only sound you could hear was the birds and the small artificial streams of river that flowed a few steps away from the closed off exit.
If Satoru was insinuating something you started to get the hang of it and you soon felt you face get hotter. The afternoon sun did nothing to help you cool down as you struggled to make sense of the situation. His hands were all over your body, caressing, pinching and feeling you up.
“ What’s wrong? Not up for it in semi public style?”, his breathy voice got lost in the crook of you neck where he inhaled your scent, “ you know nobody’s gonna come” with a slight push, he pinned you againt the vine-covered gate, “Except for you”.
“what the- WAIT! It’s still so bright out here not to mention we’re in PUBLIC Satoru!”, wide eyed you try to grab at his hand that was halfway done unbuttoning the top of your blouse.
“Do you want me to blindfold you?”, throwing these words nonchalantly he started licking every bit of exposed skin he could find from your ears to chest.
His mouth made contact with your covered breasts and without bothering to remove the piece of clothing he latched his mouth onto your hardened nipple to give it a gentle bite. Holding back your own moans you placed you hands on his broad shoulders, a feeble attempt at stopping him.
“How would THAT resolve anything?!” already half naked, your retorts seemed like pathetic excuses even to your own ears. It wasn’t until you heard a sharp rip that you realised your underwear was no longer on your body anymore. With a horrified look you saw your unusable underwear in Satoru’s hand.
“ I don’t think you’ll be needing these anymore my sweetness because I want to see ALL of you”, dangling the fabric from his long fingers he made a show of tucking it in his pocket. Hiking your skirt up with one hand he caressed the soft flesh with his thumbs.
“I knew you had no sense of danger but this could even get us arrested”, your reasoning seemed to fell on deaf ears as your boyfriend, already half way down on the ground, pulled his blindfold down with ease. Looking at up at you with his ethereal turquoise eyes that lied beneath strips of heavy white eyelashes, this part of his face was something you couldn’t see all the time.
“You’re beautiful……”, the genuine nature of his words felt unreal when compared to his everyday frivolous self, “at least I’ve always thought so”.
All the voices in the place except for his, got drowned out by the throbbing of your heart in your chest when he kneeled right in front of your crotch. The warm smile on his lips contradicted with his tantalizing actions but he enjoyed it precisely because of that.
“Open your legs a bit more y/n, I need more space to eat”, with his haughty smirk back he exposed more of your pussy with his fingers and dribbled the strawberry sauce over it until it started trickling down to the ground underneath it.
“This looks like a good dessert, waaay better than the one I was offered before”, making one last smartass comment he threw the now empty packet away and your sugar coated pussy was soon met with Satoru’s soft, warm tongue as he buries his face in it. His tongue worked it’s way beneath the layer of your pussy hair and down to the soft flabby skin underneath. Your natural slick combined with the dressing sauce tasted even sweeter in his mouth, the pleasant hums falling uncontrollably from his mouth made you wetter.
All the blemishes, scars and your self imposed flaws started melting into something more complete and unbreakable in its nature when you felt Satoru touching you, feeling you and tasting you from the inside and out.
His warm hands firmly gripped your thighs to lap at the soft peak in between. All the sensations his tongue was providing you made your vision turn black and your body heated up to the point of burning. The broad daylight and your exposed form added to the fear of being found out but your trust in your boyfriend outweighed everything so you let him have his way.
“ Hmmm, yeah y/n…”, the exaggeratingly loud slurping of his mouth came to a stop as he looked up at you, his pink lips glistening even more when he spoke, “Even this cheap stuff tastes better when I eat it directly from you”.
You were a panting mess, already having lost the ability to make coherent words you kept you eyes on Satoru as rose to his feet.
“ Let’s move on to the next part shall we?”, after smoothening out your skirt of you he held out his hand and your need for release took over all rhyme and reason so you put one of your shaking hand in his. The next few moments were confusing as a white light enveloped both of your forms and by the time your vision returned you found yourself in an unknown room.
The place itself was nothing out of the ordinary, some books, a cupboard and a vanity. The single bed near the curtained window was properly made. It was clearly not Satoru’s room but the neatness of the place also suggested that it wasn’t an unused room either.
“ Hey we’re are we?”, you question the white haired male when he casually made his way to switch on the lights.
“Don’t worry we’re still in the academy premises, you wanted to finish this right? And I didn’t wanted to go another second with hearing your pretty voice, so you can scream now,” his voice dangerously low, he held your arms in both of his hands and guided you to the single bed in the corner.
“ and I didn’t meant that as a request”, flat on your back you had no time for further questioning as your exposed cunt got filled to the brim in a single thrust. The stretch made you cry out and remembering Satoru’s previous warning you didn’t bother covering your mouth. The light in the room was enough for him to see all of you, even if he had all of you memorized at the back of since the first time.
Your twisted face that you’d consider ugly was nothing if not arousing to him from the kneeling position of his at the edge of the bed, endearing even at how the side of your eyes well up everytime he fucked you so hard, the creaking of the bed acted as a proof of his brutal pace that threatened to break the furniture.
Each powerful thrust of his made your entire body lurch from its position, your juices flowed endlessly down your thighs, on Satoru’s cock and down to the sheets. Your voice ricocheted off the walls and gave life to the entire building.
Having your orgasm cut off before, the anticipation that had build up made your upcoming release feel even ore intense. Your walls started clenching around his shaft, already feeling waves of ecstasy you waited for it to reach its peak.
“ Y/n...Come for me”, in between his grunts he placed on of his hand on the side of your head, lowering himself till your noses touched. Breaths intermingling, you came with a loud cry of his name. Euphoria spreaded through both of your bodies making a gush of liquid come out of your pussy when Satoru pulled out, both of your mess soiled the sheet.
Few minutes of silence passed by as a fully clothed Satoru sat beside you, stroking your head until you calmed down.
“ Hey y/n?”, abruptly his cheeky tone filled the room and you looked up at him questioningly,
“ Wanna take a pic? ya'know, as a momento”, the odd question made you come to an obvious conclusion, which now seemed obvious considering your boyfriend’s not so secret rebellious nature and with how much of a brat he can be it was nothing short of hilarious.
“ It’s Lisa’s room isn’t it?”, barely controlling your laughter you tried to pry an answer out of him, the soothing motion of his hands never coming to a stop he took out his phone with another.
“ Yeah, it is, I’d say it’s an excellent way of showing her our ‘bond’ dontcha think?”, his cringey answer made you burst into laughter. The first real smile he’d seen on your face since you got here was something Satoru wanted to be a constant thing, always there when he wanted to see it just like a still photograph.
Bending his face down his lips softly met your forehead and before you could open your eyes back up you heard the click of the camera go off.
“ Heh, so how is it?”, propping yourself up on your elbows you tried to peak at the screen but it was pulled out of sight just as quickly.
“ It’s perfect”, with a warm smile that reached all the way to his eyes Satoru put his phone down before peering into your eyes, “and it’s mine”.
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen gojo#jujutsu kaisen smut#smut#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#gojou satoru x reader#gojou satoru#jjk oneshot#jujutsu kaisen scenario#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo smut#my writing
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bkdk split up fic - part 2 ig
PART 1 HERE
like some people liked this highly self indulgent idea, I’m writing more. I hope you enjoy :)
*unedited, don’t shame my English*
---
Not much later All Might entered the room and five pairs of eyes looked at him.
“Well, well, what do we have here?”
“All Might! Kacchan got hit by a quirk and split up in four” Izuku said, approaching him. The little boy between his arms looked at him, then at All Might, and back at Izuku when he spoke.
“What are you talking about? Why did you call him All Might?”
“Hmmm, well…” Izuku turned back and looked at the Kacchans there. “Should I tell him or not?”
“The fuck is going on?!” Teen Kacchan yelled.
“Well, young- younger Bakugou, the thing is, this is my body when I’m not on duty” The old man told the little kid.
“The fuck?!” Yelled the same teen.
“I don’t believe you” The child enunciated, crossing his arms. He looked out of the corner of the eye at Izuku. Then he looked away. And then back at Izuku. “Is that true?”
“Yeah, well… Yeah, he’s telling the truth”
“You wouldn’t lie to me, right? Because I’ll kick your ass, Izuku, I don’t care you’re older now”
“I know, I know. I wouldn’t lie to you, Kacchan”
The child looked satisfied and glared back at All Might, still with his little arms crossed.
“Prove it, anyway”
“Kacchan, that’s…”
“Of course!” All Might said, entering his buffed shape. “I’m here!”
“Wooooo” The kid’s eyes went wide and shiny, his mouth smiling wide. He patted Izuku’s back with one hand and pointed at the hero with the other. “It’s him!”
“I know. He’s so cool, right?” Those big red eyes looked at him and Izuku felt his heart full of joy.
“Wow!” Was all what the kid responded.
All Might came back to his form in a cloud and smiled at them. The teenager was shocked in place, the seventeen years old was just frowning looking at Deku, and the oldest was smiling lightly, with his arms crossed over his chest. The original Katsuki looked at the older and tilted his head just one second, thinking about how his future-self looked so fucking cool, just as expected. But when he looked at the teen, he frowned. To handle that bitch was gonna be difficult. But he knew himself better now, so maybe he might be able to handle him for the amount of time he had to be split up.
All Might asked Mini Kacchan to grab him and two seconds later the old man had the kid between his skinny arms, holding him with such care. The little thing has sparkles on his big eyes. The other blondes and Izuku revised the records All Might had brought to confirm that knowing the future wouldn’t affect Katsuki or the world. This was because once he returned to normality, all the experience would return to the original Katsuki, maybe with the exception of the future one. Will the future Kacchan remember the travel when he came back to his time? Probably, but it wouldn’t affect so much. How long does it take to come back to normal? It depends on how much exposure he had with the quirk, so doing math, they think it may only last a couple of days. Should they tell Katsuki’s parents? He himself, all of them, agreed in a firm no. Would they have to share Original-Katsuki’s room? Yes. Except for the child, who didn’t want to leave Izuku’s side.
“Hah? You’re not going to stay with this nerd” The teenager complained.
“Shut up, I’ll do whatever I want” replied mini Kacchan, already back in Izuku’s arms.
“Kacchan, it’s oka-”
“You just shut up, Deku! I don’t care you have a fucking quirk now! I bet it’s a lame one, just to fit you!”
“That’s enough, Kacchan. You don’t have to be that way” Izuku put the child down and looked at him with a serious expression.
“Hah? Where all this confidence came from, fucking nerd?”
“I know you well enough. We already had this fight, I’m up for having it again” Izuku raised his hand in fist in response to Katsuki's raising palms cracking little explosions.
“The fuck, Deku?” the original said, letting his body between them. “Are you fucking serious?”
“I know the way to make him stop doing this!”
“If you know, just stop!” Katsuki looked Izuku right in the eye. “You know how he feels”
“And that’s just why! I want to let him know I never looked down at him!”
“But don’t follow my ways, stupid! Right now, you're just agreeing with him”
“Kacchan… You know I’m not doing that… And having that fight changed everything between us”
“Shut up! He’s not me” Katsuki made a face. “Well, he is! But you know what I meant”
“Allright, fine. But mini Kacchan can do whatever he wants, you listen?” He knelt beside the kid and softened like nothing had happened. “You can stay with me if you want, okay?” He said sweetly, brushing his spiky head.
“Okay! But don’t treat me like a child, ok?!”
“I won’t, I promise” Izuku smiled at him.
After the little dispute, they sat on the couches, saying goodbye to All Might and waiting for Aizawa to come back with instructions. Mini Kacchan climbed Izuku’s lap and sat there. The young adult was on the couch arm, looking at them piercingly. The original was sitting on another couch, looking at them, and the teen leaning against the couch’s arm, arms crossed, an angry pout on his face.
“And what now?” Izuki said, helping the kid to sit comfortably on his lap. The little boy was looking at the oldest blonde with a suspicious look and when Izuku followed his gaze, found those crimson eyes on him. “Wh-what?”
The young adult Kacchan smiled. Izuku caught his breath. Then Older Kacchan lowered his view at the kid. The two blondes looked intensely one in another eyes, and an electric tension passed between them. The kid turned to face Izuku and hugged him, resting his little head over his shoulder, and putting his tongue out at the older blonde, who frowned a little with a smirk.
“What are you two doing?” The original said. They kept looking at each other, not answering. Then Izuku looked at Original Kacchan and smiled weakly.
“I don’t know what is happening. Are they having a staring competition?”
“He wants to steal you from me” The kid whispered in his ear. Izuku gasped and his face reddened.
“Wh-What?”
“What’s happening, nerd?” Original Kacchan barked, starting to get annoyed.
“Uh, no- Hmm, nothing” his voice turned out high pitched and he moved his hands in front of him. Mini Kacchan hugged him tight and Izuku hugged him again. The kid then loosened the grip. “Um?”
“Okay, I’m done with this shit. I’m leaving” Teen Kacchan said, already leading to the door.
“And where are you planning to go, huh?” Original Kacchan said, rolling his eyes.
“Shut it!” Teen barked, opening the door only to find Aizawa there.
“Go back in there, Bakugou”
“Are you fucking doing anything this time, or are you gonna waste my time?”
Aizawa kept looking at him for a moment, blinking slowly. Then he pointed at Teen Kacchan, turning his head to look at Original.
“And I thought you were something, wow” The older man looked back at the teen with a bored expression. “I’m a teacher, so I’m the authority here. Do you have a problem with that?”
“As long as you do something”
“Okay, look, I don’t have the energy for this” He focused his attention on the other boys present and pointed at them while talking. “Bakugou, you will need to attend your classes either way” he said to Original Kacchan. “You will have to take care of the child,” he said to Older Kacchan. “And you,” he turned to point at Teen. “What are we gonna do with you?”
“He can attend the classes, too. Take the wind out of him” Older Kacchan said, smirking.
“Whose side are you on?” Original asked, angrily.
“Deku’s” He said, lowering his eyes at him again. Izuku looked at him out of the corner of the eye and looked away, flustered.
--
PART 3 HERE
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ok idk what am i doing lmao
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Idea where the Voltron Paladins start to develop elemental powers from their Lions. Except...not the most obvious ones.
Shiro can teleport. Well. That’s the most visible aspect of his power. What he actually does is warp the fabric of space-time because of course he does that. You know how Shiro basically fights like gravity is optional? Yeah, that just got 100x worse. Shiro essentially floats and drops and moves however he needs, and now he affects space-time for everyone else, too. You can tell when Shiro’s gotten really pissed because there’s this immense pressure and everything is suddenly heavy. Or in a combat, his enemies who were grounded are now bouncing and floating. And if you think “space”= “no gravity”, you’re forgetting this is the star pilot of the Garrison who certainly knows about orbitals and gravitational assists. He doesn’t need any alien robot-lion bond to calculate multi-body trajectories instantaneously in his head even with changing gravitational fields. Teleportation might be flashy and all, but every member of team Voltron knows that’s the least dangerous thing he can do.
Lance is an empath. At first, he’s disappointed he didn’t get anything cool and flashy like Shiro. Actually, at first, Lance didn’t think he got a power at all. This is just a normal part of forming Voltron, right? Right?? Why is no one else so exhausted from all the feelings? Guess I’m just weak... Lance actually has a near breakdown before the rest of the team clocks it and realizes he’s constantly swimming in everyone’s feelings and yeah, no. No one can handle all that. Allura steps him to teach him how to build boundaries, and still, he has to spend a few days avoiding Keith and Shiro (”What the hell, you two?! Do you guys feel ANYTHING that’s not twenty shades of repressed trauma???”). But with time, Lance learns to control and use his power to help the team. His connection is strongest with the other paladins, and he mostly uses his power to look after them and help them out during the down times. Lance has learned the importance of being a support and takes pride in healing his team when they’re down so they’re ready to kick ass in battle. But he also shines on diplomatic missions. His ability to ping what other people are feeling not only helps him smooth over offenses or fears, but he can pick up on inconsistencies and unseen red flags. Not to mention, Lance can nudge other’s emotions. Normally just slightly, but it’s enough to swing things in their favor. Lance might not be flashy, but that doesn’t make him less powerful. And anyone on the other side of the negotiating table quickly learns that.
Keith has precognition. Think Jedi see-things-just-before-they-happen Force shenanigans. His instincts aren’t just on point--he’s often reacting to things just before they happen. Naturally, this makes him almost impossible to face in combat. Incidentally, this is also part of why Keith is so bad at communicating: he’s often thinking in multiple points of time at once and condensing that down to one point to talk about is just...it doesn’t work like that. But slowly, as Keith learns how to work in a team and, if he can’t quite communicate with words, to let the others in so they sense what he’s sensing, Keith’s precognition stops throwing him out of sync with everyone else and pretty soon Voltron has the same too-fast reflexes as Keith. The others have gotten used to the flashes of Keith-thoughts zipping through the Lion bonds and letting him move them when they do. Now not only are the Lions practically indestructible, but Voltron is nearly impossible to land a hit on in the first place.
At first Pidge is annoyed about the paladins powers because--Green Lion? Of course she’s going to get plants. And Olkarion might have helped her appreciate the natural world more, but she still thinks plant powers are lame. She’s not Poison Ivy. Give her computers and climate control any day. But then she starts talking to Green as she’s coding, and at first she just figures she’s a genius (which she is, thank you very much) but her programs are like nothing she or anyone else has seen before. Especially the viruses she writes for Galra tech. They grow. She can plant a “seed” on one part of system and later she’ll find that code sinking its roots into an entirely different part of the enemy ship. It creeps like vines, breaking through any firewall, tangling up any kind of security, alive in a way even the best AI isn’t. Pidge doesn’t even really need an access point anymore, just let her loose near some tech and like an invasive species, soon she’s overrun it all. Pidge’s code is like vines, like ivy or tangle weed, and once it’s in there, you can try to root it out. But you won’t succeed. Pidge likes this kind of plant.
And finally Hunk can kind of just...bend reality. Normally it’s little things, like cables that shouldn’t work suddenly don’t need an adaptor, the rust jamming certain gears is magically clean, that fuel cell that’s been on empty for the last three varga is still going strong. Of all the paladins, Hunk appreciates that difference little things can make (for good or for really, really bad. You won’t think changing the rotation rate of that star by half a second would make a difference, but turns out that changes the magnetic fields which create solar flares which...). Hunk’s happy making small, manageable adjustments to reality that he can predict the full consequences of. Mostly. But there’s still definitely been a time that someone’s held a gun to one of his teammate only to find--the gun isn’t there anymore? It never was? There wasn’t even a gun in existence in the first place? And occasionally someone will realize that aren’t really limits to what Hunk can change besides those Hunk sets himself. Those people start to back away very slowly as Hunk talks to himself about whether or not he should turn this rock into space chocolate That’s a pretty big molecular change, not telling what side effects with come with that. But if he took something that was already food, now there’s an idea... Hunk doesn’t use his power in combat that much. Or, at least, not in ways people notice (but isn’t it convenient that with Hunk around, armor lasts longer, equipment runs better, no one’s amo ever runs out...)
All these abilities would be chaos to work with, except that the paladins have grown to develop a low-level mind-meld like they have in the Lions. Normally it’s white noise far in the background, but it can flare up when needed and nothing is quite as disconcerting as when Keith pings something and all of them turn as one to look a second before something happens. Sometimes people swear that even when the paladins are outside of their Lions, doing separate things, they still move unnervingly like part of one unit. And in the Lions--
Gone are the days of inexperienced pilots attempting to survive. Pidge is turning your tech against you. Keith is predicting your every move. Shiro and Hunk are wrecking havoc on reality and all known laws of physics. This in addition to all the bells and whistles and impossible weapons they’ve unlocked in Voltron. And while you’re panicking, trying to figure out how the hell you’re supposed to fight this thing, Lance is there cranking your dread to eleven. Suddenly, it’s no longer surprising that Voltron is the most powerful weapon in the universe.
“Don’t they ever scare you?” ask some planetary leaders after witnessing the might of Voltron. Sure, the paladins are supposed to be the good guys, but... “What if they stop listening to you?”
“Oh, I’m not worried,” says Allura, the woman who has the power to heal and destroy planets in her fingertips. She smiles like her teeth haven’t turned sharp and blinding white in the last minute.
“I am their Princess.”
#voltron#vld#shiro#keith#lance#pidge#hunk#allura#shiro and hunk trying to serve cookies to the locals: why are they scared of us :(#pidge: maybe because you guy are kinda big?#shiro: [distressed shiro noises]#lance: *sighs* [gets to work soothing emotions so his scary-but-sensitive friends don't get their feelings hurt]#voltron paladin powers#mckinlily writes: vld fic
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So, I am re-watching Danny Phantom and the idea of Lancer caring for an ill Danny crossed my mind after I read all the ones I could find. I also toyed with Danny’s powers; him being able to change, obviously, but also seance and see dead spirits (and ghosts; leaving spirits and ghosts as separate entities) walking around. Basically, I upped the rating on Danny Phantom and combined Klaus Hargreeves powers with Danny’s own abilities.
Also, I’ll say, and maybe it’s the song I’m listening to, or the fact that I was reworking Greenberg and Coach from TW, but I got the picture of Danny showing up at Lancer’s door, high off his ass mumbling about Sam, Ghosts, and other teenager things.
…………………………………..
Lance Lancer had never seen a kid so sick, nor did he remember his own son ever being this ill. Danny groaned loudly, curling further into himself, his arms tightly protecting his stomach as his nails dug bloody indents on his forearms. He was shivering, his ghost sense going off every few minutes, creating a barely visible burst of cold air biting back against his sweaty flesh. He clenched his eyes shut as he tried to forget about the spirits flooding the room. As he tried to forget their voices, their screams, their hands brushing over him as they pleaded for him to look. As they begged for him to help.
Lancer bit his bottom lip as he pressed his hand harder against the 17-year-old’s shaking front shoulder, his other trying to work through some of the knots plaguing the boy’s shoulder blades. He shouldn’t have this many tight muscles, this much stress forced in his back at his age… and the fact that Danny seemed to curl tighter into himself, straining his muscles further every time he took a slow, shallow breath, worried the English teacher more.
The teenager groaned again, clenching his eyes shut tighter as he swallowed quickly, letting out a shaky breath. He stilled, hoping his lack of movement would help ease the nausea stampeding through his body and after taking several slow breaths, he relaxed. He hated being sick… not that anyone loved puking their guts out for hours, let alone in someone else’s home, but his ghost sense always made him on-edge, unable to sleep peacefully or unwind. Every spark of Ghost-breath as Tucker called it, sent violent shivers through him making it harder for his body to heat or cool properly.
The last time Danny remembered being this sick was a few days after the Accident. He’d been on a famous “Fenton Family Vacation,” which was just code for some lame ghost-convention his parents attended every year, forcing their two kids to cram in the RV for a 12-hour car trip to some middle-class hotel. Usually, Jazz and Danny occupied their time exploring the city or making fun of the people who attended the convention. But since the Accident a few days before, for Danny, the family vacation turned into 3-days of complete feverish hell as his body tried to figure out how to survive with only half an immune system, half the person he used to be.
There wasn’t much to remember from that experience except cold showers, endless puking, aimless wondering in some sauna-type hotel as Danny tried running from himself, and the vague memory of leaning against his father several times as his mother coaxed him to take whatever foul-tasting liquid she wanted him to drink. Whether or not his parents actually attended the convention, or if Jazz had explored the same boring city, Danny couldn’t remember. But he remembered his parents arguing, his sister cradling him to her chest on the bathroom floor, and at some point, crouching under the bathroom counter as he forced himself small, trying to hide from the green-eyed, white-haired kid in the mirror or the bloody, contorted people following him. Since then, sickness never came easy despite his immune system being half-dead or ghosted or whatever it was Tucker had told him.
The 17-year-old pressed his face against the comforter, lessening the pain shooting through his temples as the thought of puking again slowly began to evade, and his head welcomed the soft cool fabric cushioning the migraine eating away at his jawline. He was lying at the edge of the bed, curled into what had to be a pathetic sweaty ball, his knees pulled halfway to his chest as he braced his arms across his stomach. This was hell. It had to be. Because only some sick fuck would make him miserable, feverishly grasping what little reality he could hold onto, and so nauseous he couldn’t move, away from his parents with only Mr. Lancer as his only comfort. It was some kind of sick joke.
Danny’s stomach churned, and he swallowed hard, his hands clammy against his overheated skin, trying to will whatever else he could possibly still have in his stomach, back down. He stilled again, breathing shallowly through his nose, feeling his stomach relax slightly. He sighed internally, praying to God he was done puking as heat lit through his veins, and Danny lurched, retching loudly as he shut his eyes, willing for everything to stop. He had no strength left to hold himself up; his mind fuzzy and everything hard to piece together through sweaty nauseating moments. He whimpered as he lurched again, retching as bitter acidic bile spewed from his mouth, running down his chin, and the 17-year-old coughed harshly, tightening his grip across his stomach, and clenching his eyes shut as he struggled to breathe through the rest of it.
He felt something wipe across his chin and mouth, his stomach lurching further at the thought of the humiliation of being so exhausted and sick he couldn’t even be bothered to wipe any of his vomit away from him. Danny whimpered loudly, letting foul saliva pool from his mouth as his stomach heaved, hanging his head off the edge of the bed over what he had been hoping for the past two hours was a wastebasket… but considering Lancer had rapidly become more concerned with other ailments such as the teenager’s temperature or the tight muscles straining in his shoulders and back, the 17-year-old was willing to bet the dark wooden floor wasn’t pretty. He’d also been too scared to look, not wanting the guilt of Lancer having to clean up his vomit added onto the guilt and humiliation he already felt.
“Alright. Easy, Daniel. It’s alright… just let it all up. It’s alright,” Lancer said as softly as he could. He was pretty sure the kid was mostly delirious by now, his fever spiking as sweat layered on top of him, soaked through damp clothes and sheets that were plastered to the teenager’s pale skin. He couldn’t even hold himself up anymore, his face pressed against the edge of the bed while Lancer kept a firm grasp on his shoulder so the kid wouldn’t topple off.
Lancer pressed the disregarded and mostly warm rag from the nightstand against the teenager’s face; forehead, cheeks, neck, trying his best to mop up as much sweat as he could, trying to cool Danny off as much as he could without physically carrying him into the bathroom and forcing him under a cold shower. It wasn’t ideal, and Lancer knew from previous experience with his own son, it wouldn’t be pretty; but considering Lancer was currently in charge of the poor kid, he was willing to do whatever was necessary. He’d just never seen a kid so sick.
Lightening flashed outside as a branch scrapped against the glass windowpane, thunder clashing loudly as rain continued to beat against the old house. The small leak in the roof audible in the kitchen as tiny droplets fell against some crappy tin figurines his wife failed to take in the divorce. Lancer had always hated them… but he didn’t have the heart to toss them… or admit to himself that those stupid scrap metal trinkets were his last thread he had tied to her. His last hope that maybe she’d come back. But it’d been 12 years… and she wasn’t coming back. Neither was Charlie.
Danny coughed harshly, flinching as something cool touched the back of his neck, brushing sweaty sticky hair matted to his neck from his burning flesh. He felt like he was on fire. No, worse… his core was always cold, freezing almost; so, his temperature was lower than any other humans. So, the fire eating away at his muscles and memories, was excruciating.
He coughed again, wheezing slightly as his heart skipped. He had to be breathing faster than normal… hell, he was breathing faster than normal. Air sucked through achy lungs and forced out through a dry mouth as his heart tried keeping up the pace. He swallowed, pulling his knees further to his chest, shivering again as his ghost sense went off, and he opened his eyes slightly, wincing as the dark room spun in a multitude of blacks, browns, and dark purples. Red mixed against almost translucent flesh as faces inched closer, and Danny’s stomach lurched, hard, as his eyes met the contorted and split face of a middle-aged man in coveralls.
The teenager choked, swallowing loudly as his stomach cramped again, barely feeling Lancer’s hands trying desperately to work out the clenched muscles in his back. Blood dripped from the man’s face; his appearance split into two as his smile dropped in opposite directions. Normally, Danny could ignore it; ignore them… but it was worse when he was vulnerable. He couldn’t block them out. And to be completely honest, the past couple of months hadn’t been easy on him.
He and Sam had broken up before they ever began dating. Tucker had maintained under the radar both boyfriends and girlfriends while helping his childhood crush, Valerie, pick off the ghosts Danny had missed. They were still close, the three of them; but Sam had been more distant, avoiding plans with Danny when it was just the two of them… and deep down the teenager knew it was his fault. Everything was.
The 17-year-old bit his lip, blood coating his tongue as he buried his nails further against his flesh. Sam had almost died. She had been willing to sacrifice everything for Danny… and that was something Danny would never have been able to live with. He had fucked up. He had tried to help… and she had almost died. The faint tan scars still visible against her neckline, shining as a reminder in the sunlight and under the florescent lighting in the chemistry lab. Since then, she’d been doing her best to avoid Danny, and Danny let her. He couldn’t face her. He didn’t know how.
That had been months ago, but it still flooded the teenager’s mind every time he glanced in her direction. Every time their hands touched in chemistry… every time she forced a watered-down excuse past purple lipstick. The sigh. That sigh. She had been scared of him that night. He saw it. The fear plagued across her face. The horror. And Danny didn’t blame her because he scared himself nowadays too.
He felt colder than he had been in his youth, emotions concrete against things that troubled his peers. His demeanor seemed further away as he toppled over the puny shadow of his early years. He wasn’t a pushover; Dash didn’t come near him anymore… but he was still outcasted, marked freakshow as newer threats and tougher bullies appeared. Sam had borne witness to things Tucker knew nothing about; she had seen a darker side of Danny that the teenager tried so damn hard to hide. But it was getting harder… the spirits were bleeding through more and more, scratching his mind and haunting him with nightmares that kept the 17-year-old up most nights. Nothing was a comfort anymore. Not even his friends. Not even his sister.
The teenager’s stomach lurched again, and he felt cooper flood his mouth as he bit his lip harder, forcing his eyes shut, cutting off the images around him as the spirits continued to scream. He breathed through his nose slowly, feeling Lancer’s hand grip his fingers as he tried to pry the teenager’s grip baring against his sweaty flesh.
“Wuthering Heights, Daniel!” Lancer breathed, still trying to force Danny’s fingers away from his arm as the small bloody marks from his nails became visible. Despite visibly shaking, and his breathing coming in teeth-chattering waves, Lancer was surprised Danny’s grip remained resilient. Likewise, when Danny had grabbed his wrist in the hallway earlier, when Lancer had startled the teenager, his icy-blue eyes daggered towards him, watching the older man’s actions, his fingers tight and threatening around his wrist… Lancer had been taken aback by the teenager’s strength. Just like now.
The English teacher sighed, giving up and pressing his hand against the 17-year-old’s shoulder once more as Danny lurched, coughing harshly. Concern and sympathy ate away at Lancer’s expression; his own actions feeling clumsy and foreign as he tried to soothe the teenager as much as he could. As much as he remembered. But he hadn’t comforted his own son in almost 12 years… and Danny had become much more distant and independent over the past three. So, the comfort Lancer used to try and reassure the kid, felt awkward, just as the sickened pain written across the teenager’s pale face, looked wrong.
The lights flickered above, and Lancer glanced up, hoping he wasn’t going to lose power as that would add to his already worrying list of problems. Lightening cracked again, a tree in the front yard visible momentarily as a branch fell against the window, rain threatening to break glass, and the distant sound of a tornado signal blaring through Amity Park.
Danny whimpered loudly, clenching his eyes as voices cut through his skull, pounding against the pain enveloped in his forehead and cheekbones, trailing down his jawline and neck. The bed spun despite the teenager being curled into a tight motionless ball, sweat falling from his hairline as the smell of body odor reached his nostrils, and the 17-year-old gagged.
Lancer pressed a reassuring hand against the teenager’s shoulder, murmuring he’d be right back before rising, grabbing the lukewarm rag from the nightstand, and trashcan from beside the bed as he made his way towards the kitchen. After replacing the trash bag and running the rag through cold water, Lancer sighed loudly, pressing his hands against the counter as he watched water droplets forming through the small hole in his ceiling and ping against the metal statues harbored on the bar.
He huffed again, running a tired hand over his bald head as he stared at his reflection in the dark window. The electricity shut off as the lights flickered before the microwave beeped loudly as the powerlines fought against the storm. He didn’t need this. And if there was any type of superior being looking out for him, they’d keep the lights on. At least, Lancer would have one thing going for him then.
He sighed again, glancing towards the direction of his guestroom then back towards his reflection. It was nearing 5am, and despite the sun aimed to rise in an hour, Lancer doubted it would bleed through the storm that had showed no signs of letting up. He wished it would, wished the skies would clear… wished flights would take off because that meant Danny’s parents and sister could fly home. They’d be able to take better care their son… they’d know what to do. Lancer didn’t. He hadn’t been a dad in years… he hadn’t looked after someone in years…
Danny had been miserable all day, this had become evident to Lancer in 4th period as he berated the teenager for once again sleeping in his class. His cocky, sarcastic attitude pushing the English teacher to his limit as he awarded the 17-year-old with another days’ detention. But it hadn’t been until later that Lancer began to notice things he should have seen to begin with. The dark circles, pale complexion, the bloody nose, and red tint painted across sharp cheekbones; his voice, cracked and sudden, as Danny retorted sarcasm aimed to hurt… his stare gazing past whatever Lancer had been teaching, staring at nothing but looking at everything.
Lancer shook his head as he glanced down at the red coffee cup and abandoned bowl of cereal lying in the sink. This had not been in his Wednesday evening plans… then again, there was no way in hell Lancer was going to let the teenager go home to an empty house. Lord knows what could have happened, and the fact that Danny’s temperature had spiked in the night, confirmed any doubts the older man had of letting the kid stay with him until his parent’s plane landed, which had been grounded until tomorrow evening, at best.
The older man glanced back towards his reflection, catching sight of the radar flashing across the television in his living room, silently. The storm was huge, coming from the Gulf, pressure building from the North and East as it moved slowly over Amity Park. And it was only expected to get worse which was ironically befitting. Lancer had played with the idea of taking Danny to the Emergency Room several times within the past few hours; the only thing stopping him was the question of what was more dangerous: Danny’s illness or the storm?
Jack Fenton had argued while on the phone with Lancer that he had half a mind to rent a car and drive back, despite it being a 20-hour drive back to upstate New York. But much to the English teacher’s amusement, Mr. Fenton’s plan had been shot down from his wife in the background, asking Lancer the condition of her son. Danny’s sister groaning loudly in the background, yelling something about embarrassment. But that had been yesterday evening…
And now. Danny couldn’t keep anything down, not even the miniscule amounts of water Lancer had encouraged him to take to prevent dehydration. His fever had spiked from 102 yesterday to 104.8 through the night, and most of the hardened demeanor Lancer had come to expect from his pupil over the years, was vanquished within a matter of hours. The tough, fuck-you-attitude Danny had adapted, was replaced with the youthfulness of his age. Only 17. He was still a kid; scared, alone, and whether he wanted to admit it, trying his best not to cause his teacher any further inconveniences than he already had. And despite Lancer finding the teenager’s attempts admirable, he found himself at a loss of trying to convince not only the teenager, but himself, that he only wanted to help, to make the kid feel better. But Lancer was so far out of his parental element, and he’d never seen a kid so sick before.
It hadn’t taken long once Lancer had settled down for the night, warming his hands against a mug of tea, quietly watching the news, for things to take a turn. Danny had been rather quiet during the drive to Lancer’s house, slumped in the passenger side, forehead pressed against frosted glass and still mumbling in disagreement with whoever thought he needed a babysitter every couple of minutes. The 17-year-old had attempted to convince Lancer he was fine, that he felt better since puking in detention, and his parents were overreacting. And despite sloppily scribbling through his homework, half of which the older man was certain Danny hadn’t even bothered to read, the teenager remained sullen, flushed, barely touching the sandwich Lancer had offered.
After some time spent brooding in a chair at the kitchen table, Danny had apparently concluded his English teacher wasn’t going to take him home anytime soon. He seemed more compliant then, taking up to inspecting Lancer’s memorabilia instead, trying his best to leave everything exactly as he’d found it. The older man had admired how careful the 17-year-old had been when picking up photos or knickknacks, casting weird what-the-hell-is-this glances towards his teacher as he explored.
Something sounded to his right, and Lancer blinked, running another hand over his head as he cleared his mind. Most of the things taking up refuge in the old house were objects ghosted with the memories of previous family, previous love, a previous life. He had never had the heart to take them down… it was creepily comforting.
Lancer sighed, reaching for the water-soaked rag puddling on the counter as something moved in the corner of his eye causing the older man to jump. He turned, facing the 17-year-old leaning heavily against the wooden arch of the hallway, shaking as he pressed a hand firmly against the wall for support, the rest of his lanky form hunched.
“Great Gatsby, Fenton! What are you doing up?” Lancer advanced, his tone slightly harsher than intended causing the older man to grimace. The teenager looked fairly close to passing out, a hand on his stomach firmly, the other grasped at flat wallpaper. Sweat trailing down his flushed face, forming in droplets at the kid’s chin before melting into his sweat-soaked shirt. Red set high across the bridge of his nose, painting his cheeks as he opened his mouth to speak before closing it, confusion setting across his features.
Lancer made a move towards the teenager as Danny stepped back, his eyes wide as they observed the older man cautiously. The English teacher raised an eyebrow, taking another step forward, a sick feeling sitting in the pit of his stomach as the teenager recoiled once more. Lancer cursed softly, pushing his hand towards the 17-year-old slowly, his voice low and calm as Danny reeled back. Lancer hesitated, “I’m not going to hurt you, Daniel.”
Danny pressed against the wall as Lancer took another step forward, leaning a shoulder against the wall, his eyebrows furrowing together as he tried to focus on the swimming interior around him. He couldn’t breathe, the air around him sucked from tired lungs, voices piercing through his head as he raised a shaky hand to his ear, wincing loudly as the spirits around him grew louder. He clenched his eyes shut, feeling his body struggle against the wall supporting him as he jerked away, wincing again as questions pelted him, begging, pleading for his help, for him to look. Look. Look! Just look at what had happened to them!
“Daniel?” Lancer questioned quickly, stepping forward again as the teenager gasped loudly, forcing a hand against his left ear as blood began dripping slowly from his nose, his shoulder slamming against the ugly wallpaper, “Daniel? Danny! Hey!”
The 17-year-old felt something brush against his wrist, and he forced his eyes open against the harsh lights flickering above him. Everything was hot, confusing, mashed together in a nauseating off-kilter vibrancy that hurt; his legs refusing to support him, lungs unwilling to take air as panic took over as he tried to clear his head, as he tried to remember where the hell he was.
He grimaced, sliding against the wall as his legs fought to keep him upright. He felt wrong. Everything felt wrong, weird, gone. He swallowed, wiping his nose on the back of his hand, fear crossing his face as he pulled back, red sticky liquid coating his fingertips. Tears threatened to spill as he tried to catch his breath. This was his fault. Everything. And now he had blood on his hands. Sam’s blood.
Piercing cut through as Danny pressed a shoulder to his ear, crying out as the man in coveralls laughed, reaching towards him. Danny dropped to his knees, his fingers trembling as they slid down the wallpaper, forcing a picture of a little boy in a baseball uniform to the ground; the glass breaking around it as it smashed against the wood flooring. Tears clouded his vision as he glanced towards the photo, the blonde-haired kid morphing, mirroring Danny’s own reflection through splintered glass.
“No,” The 17-year-old choked, pulling the photo from the floor, glass splinters slicing his trembling fingers as the kid’s gap-tooth smile distorted. He couldn’t breathe; suffocating fear eating away at him as he realized he was gone. The kid in the photo was gone. Taken, dead, his soul split, lifeless as the portal had taken everything from him. He had died, leaving behind grief and broken disappointment. His friend’s hurt, bleeding out on the side of the road as Danny struggled to hold onto any humanity he had. As he struggled to save those he should have left long ago.
Blood dotted the photo, the boy’s face hidden by crimson, and Danny wiped his hand under his nose again, smearing blood across his face. The innocent boy in the photo was gone; he had killed himself in the Accident, left behind by evil contentment and a nightmarish reality that he’d never been good enough. He was broken, built in a sweetness that no longer existed, a black gaping hole where his soul was, under aching ribs, sweaty skin and a tormented, fucked up version of himself. A black pit of beautiful disappointment. An unlovable thing. He had become something unlovable, the portal killing the good and resurrecting the bad, and even that wasn’t worth much. He wasn’t worth much.
Danny gagged harshly, crumpling the photo in his hands as the leftover glass pressed into his palm. The floor swaying under his body as he grasped the wall for any support he could find. He wanted to go back; to be his parent’s innocent little boy again, to forget about the shitstorm around him, forget about the portal, forget about those he’d hurt, the blood he’d shed. But that was unfixable. He was. And unforgivable. He’d hurt Sam; hurt others, the blood of death splattered on what was left of himself, his human self. And in the end, he was the cause of everything; the collector of souls, the Grim Reaper labelled by Freakshow years ago. The bringer of death.
Lancer took another cautious step forward, crunching down before reaching once more towards the teenager as Danny crumpled sideways, slamming against the wall beside him. The older man faltered. Sweat glistened against the 17-year-old’s face as he gulped for air, his breathing harsh and sporadic as he pressed a trembling hand against his chest, eyes towards Lancer, clearly alarmed by his own breathing. He coughed roughly, doubling over as he caught his breath, and Lancer reached towards the kid, his fingers brushing against the sweat-soaked cotton fabric clinging to Danny’s shoulders.
The 17-year-old flinched, shoving his English teacher away from him harshly, wincing again as he pressed his shoulder to his left ear. He fell backwards, his knees failing him as he slammed against the wall, his head smacking against the small hall table. Darkness swallowed him momentarily, his hands shaking as the photo was crumpled tighter in his hands, letting out a strangled cry as the spirits towered over him, their eyes white, pupils missing as they shouted his name.
The electricity failed as the teenager recoiled violently, and Lancer swore the kid’s cold-blue eyes flashed green before the lights flickered back on, the light in the living room broke, glass shattering to the ground as Danny flinched, gripping one of the iron legs of the hall table, tightly. He eyed Lancer, his knuckles white against black, his forehead pressed against the cold metal, his breathing labored as he pulled his knees towards him in an effort to make his lanky form small.
The 17-year-old coughed, the sound hurting his chest, forcing his headache to crawl, spreading across his shoulders. He grasped at the metal leg of the table, yearning for more cold than the iron rod was willing to give as he sucked in breath after breath. He couldn’t think anymore, the heat had taken everything from him, had taken his core, leaving him with a spinning floor, voices flooding in dizzying waves, and the horrifying notion he was surrounded by death. He had died… the portal had stolen half of him, and now, the nightmares screaming at him, had killed whatever he had left. And the photo crushed in his hand was all he had of forgotten innocence.
Phantom had taken everything. And no one knew. No one understood. The beating, aching heart pounding in his chest was a lie. He was soulless; Phantom was soulless. Welcoming the darkness that swallowed the person Danny once was. And everything else, everything he did, was insignificant. His life was insignificant, a short dull buzz, a flicker. Just shit that happened and none of it meant anything. It was the flick on his lighter as he tried cupping his trembling hands against the wind, trying to spark one of the cigarettes he’d stolen from his father; the light fading, barely there; lighting what has killing him. Because no one wanted Danny Fenton. He was just a mask of stupid disappointment, broken and haunted by his past, damaged by unlovable fear. A shell of a person; a shell of a kid with nothing else to offer the world except the blood he was willing to spill. And then, life moved on.
Something pressed against his wrist, and the teenager yanked it back quickly, clawing at the back of his neck with both hands as he pressed his forehead against his knees, trembling as he tried blocking out all of them. Tried blocking out the tormented and lost souls swallowing him. He clawed again at the back of his neck, pressing his head between his sweaty arms as he rocked on his heels.
Something wet splashed against his joggers, barely noticeable against the heat plaguing him as the 17-year-old coughed. He clenched his arms over his ears as he realized he was crying, hard. He felt sick, wrong, the ghost sense no longer going off because he had nothing else left to give. Tears sliding down overheated flesh, meshing against black cotton as loud pleas left his mouth, the taste of blood sitting on his tongue. Something grabbed his arm, and Danny choked, “Please go away. Please go away. Go away. Go away. Go away...”
His parents would be disappointed. His sister would be a wreck. If they knew. Knew he had killed himself years ago; that the innocence that he once had, was gone; eaten away by the things his parents aimed to hurt. Danny Fenton had surrounded himself in a hypocritical tranquility; believing nothing past the Ghost Zone yet praying to God every night that there was a way out, a way away from himself, from Phantom. Because despite the good he’d done, bad followed him further, bathing his body in the blood of those around him. Sam’s screams, her tears, the fear she felt as Danny shred the last remaining hope of becoming more than the ghost killing him.
Some people deserved to die, and yet, he was the exception. An unkillable thing because the Accident had done that for him; and no amount of pills, cuts, stupid mistakes, or blood could take that from him. A cosmic joke of isolated soulless bullshit. The 17-year-old dug his nails harder into the back of his neck, coughing on the blood in the back of his throat as it smeared further down his chin. Tears mixed with the monster he’d become, crushing his heart as the reality of himself, the fact that no amount of water could wash away the pain he’d caused others, was coated in blood on halfa hands. An unholy thing.
Someone laughed, and Danny flinched, digging harder as something sticky coated his fingertips. The spirits were louder, yelling for him, scratching his skin as they tried forcing him to look; to look at their pain, to look at what had happened to them, at what he had done to them. The 17-year-old gagged as the scent of blood, dirt, and rotting flesh overpowered him. This was his fault. Their lives. Their souls. Death had collected those around him, pulling their individualities from themselves as the teenager tried to hang onto his. Danny was drowning in death, spirits shredding him, ghosts pulling him apart molecule-by-molecule as he constructed more damage than his parents ever could.
Air fell between his lips as his lungs refused to take any more. He couldn’t do this anymore. He needed his friends, his family- but they didn’t need him. They needed Phantom. Leaving Fenton as nothing more than a liability, a liar with cops and parents, a part-time substance abuser as he tried killing what everyone needed. Danny refused to move, pressing his body as hard as he could against the wall as spirits crowded him, ripping skin from his body, screaming for him to look at the damage around him, the lives he had taken.
The grip tightened on his arm, clawing at bruised skin as his world morphed and the ground hovered below him. He was pulled up, his body slamming against the spirits pulling towards him, no longer able to cooperate himself. He gagged loudly as he forced his eyes open, meeting the upside-down bloodied split face of the man in coveralls, an elderly woman praying in the corner, the back of her head blown off revealing dark grey matter.
Danny heaved as some of the grey matter fell from the woman’s white hair to her rosary, liquid meshing against him as the man in coveralls slapped another man, his head decapitating slightly, spewing blood across his vision. The teenager groaned as he glanced towards a German couple screaming at each other in the hall, the wall moving as hot fingers braced against the memories etched in the wood paneling and ugly wallpaper. He whimpered as he locked eyes with a small boy reading in the corner; the boy glanced up from his book and waved towards Danny as the 17-year-old wheezed.
Words passed his ears, muttered and useless as the pleas continued to pierce his mind. Red tears of pain he’d caused, spirits forcing him to look; their bodies distorted and warped as they screamed for the souls he had taken. The ones that had left him, a bloody and tormented ending of human life. His death was coming fast, Danny knew. He could feel it. A sudden drop-off from connection, any humanity left, falling moment-by-moment, a punctuating ending happening so involuntary fast as those would soon realize the monster he had become; realize the death he had collected. Danny retched weakly as the man in coveralls forced his head together, pain screaming from his mouth as lips that no longer wanted to meet, met, and hatred ate away at his features before the heat that fell from the 17-year-old washed over them, their bodies disappearing in the flames.
Danny gagged as the smell of menthol and stale sweat filled his nostrils, his head falling back further as a heartbeat echoed around him. Sweat trailing upward as blood fell back down in a disheveled passion, choking any air left, and the teenager’s body gave out. His eyes connected with the flames engulfing the man in coveralls, his disgust bleeding from his eyes as his face separated again before he disappeared in the fire. Danny whispered, “I’m sorry. I-I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry I couldn’t save anyone…”
His vision failed as he continued floating through those he couldn’t protect… and death swallowed what was left.
……………………………………………………………………………………………
Danny had fallen asleep, and relief settled across Lancer’s features as he took another slow sip of his tea, leaning further back in the couch. The teenager had been pretty quiet, but his looks and constant moving had become a distraction to the older man as he tried re-reading Pride and Prejudice. It’d been a long time since there’d been a kid in his home, and Lancer had forgotten how annoying they could be despite wrangling them during class as he desperately tried to pour some type of education into his students.
Lancer set his book down, glancing towards the television as the weatherman showed another map of the storm outside, the pictures flashing silently across the screen as Lancer hit mute. He sighed as rain began to pelt against the roof, the shutters on his windows slamming against the old brick harshly, and thunder echoing around a few other houses in the neighborhood as wind threatened to tear down the old house. It was going to be a long night if the storm kept up and the damage was probably going to cost him a fortune considering his salary wasn’t worth a lot these days.
The teenager coughed, and Lancer turned to see the kid curled at the other end of the couch. His head resting on the armrest at an awkward angle, his knees drawn to his chest as he refused to take any more space than needed, as he tried to force as much distance between himself and his teacher as possible. He shivered slightly, and Lancer wondered whether he should have told his charge to take the guestroom or given him a blanket… or checked for fever. After all, the 17-year-old had been trying to convince the teacher he was fine over the last few hours, but something about him, something about his demeanor told Lancer otherwise.
Lancer sighed again, setting his mug on the coffee table, eyeing the pile of books crammed into the rickety wooden shelf as it slanted forward. He needed to fix it, to buy another one before it fell, or before the weight of the books forced it down. He swallowed loudly as his eyes met the ripped, yellowed copy of Catcher in the Rye, dust coating it as it lay on the top shelf, untouched and abandoned for years. Despite all the books Lancer had reread, all the books he spent his nights enveloped in, that one, that book, he refused to touch… refused to move, to think about, to reread. Memories sat in its pages, crushed between folded pieces of paper from being read over and over, and that was something Lancer didn’t want to revisit, to think about, to remember.
Danny shifted uncomfortably, and the English teacher leaned back again, pulling his book from his lap once more, opening to the page he’d left off on. Considering it was closing in on midnight, Lancer debated heading to bed, but he hadn’t reread Jane Austen in a while. And besides, with the storm raging outside, and a kid he would feel guilty about waking, the older man considered waiting to see if he would need to dig the flashlights from the back of his silverware drawer before making any further decisions.
The ceiling fan sputtered slightly as the lights flickered, and Lancer grit his teeth as the teenager shivered again, his teeth chattered momentarily. Lancer sighed. The situation was uncomfortable needless to say; but Lancer had been a teacher and dad long enough to know that kids were good at hiding things… especially Daniel as he always had some excuse for his tardiness, his absences… his injuries. And a simple cold could turn quickly because most of the students at Casper High were walking petri dishes. Besides, Lancer and Danny’s parents agreed it was best, if the teenager were to become ill, to be surrounded by someone who could look after him or take responsibility for him if he were taken to the hospital seeing as he was still a minor and given the circumstances.
So yeah, the situation was uncomfortable; and Lancer knew that pissed Danny off. But the Fenton’s had gone with Jasmine to visit several Universities, refusing to let their only daughter attend if they couldn’t ensure the campuses were safe from ghosts. An amusing and almost stupid idea but considering Amity Park had seen its fair share of ghosts, not ridiculous. Besides Lancer could understand the Fenton’s concern, their protectiveness over their children as he once had felt it too. He knew what it was like to want to hide your kids from the evil in the world… to protect them, to hurt anything that hurt them, to give them everything. But that was gone now.
The lights flickered again as the screen door slammed against the side of the house. Wind howling outside as the news channel flashed a weather advisory warning across the screen, and Lancer exhaled, setting his book down, and leaning further against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest, closing his eyes. It’d been a long day… like most. Lancer spent a good portion of his time trying to keep a classroom of 17-year-olds from laughing over the cringing dramaticism of The Mysteries of Udolpho. Considering most of the books he taught were classic romanticism or gothic, the English teacher understood he was faced with a level of immaturity from his students. After all, it was hard for 17-year-olds to fully grasp the concept of metaphorical and real monsters of society.
The other portion of his day was spent grading poorly written essays over whatever topic he had sought to assign his students for the week. Honestly, Lancer had come to the conclusion that the only capable student in his class, after Jasmine Fenton had graduated two years prior, was Tucker Foley. If only his intelligence would rub off on Daniel, Lancer would have very little to worry about. Clearly, the teenager was capable of decent grades as Lancer had always been surprised when Fenton passed an exam or book report. But he seemed more concerned in his peers, in his life outside academics, to give his grades the attention they needed. He wasn’t stupid, Lancer knew that… and considering he came from a family thriving on higher IQ’s than half the city, the English teacher was sure that if Danny put even a little effort in his studies, he’d have no problem climbing to number one in his graduating class just as Jazz had.
But Jasmine Fenton had been competitive; aiming for greatness through academics and challenging those who threatened her perfect GPA. Daniel, however, competed with his teachers, refusing their help as he challenged them, challenged Lancer on a daily basis. Danny’s comments and cockiness had become a problem in his classroom; his antics or clownishness, difficult, as he proved how very little he cared about his grades. And despite his attitude problem, the older man was almost certain the teenager suffered from ADHD, which would explain his inability to focus most of the time and his forgetfulness.
Today had been no different. And Lancer had given the 17-year-old several chances to correct his behavior, letting his less-than-quiet remarks slide under the radar as he continued teaching. But with the constant bickering between him and Tucker, the annoyed whispers from Sam, falling from his seat twice, and the inability to explain what page the class was even reading from, Lancer had had enough. He’d tried to push back, pointing his ruler in Daniel’s direction and explaining there was an idiot at the end of it; but this resulted in the teenager’s sarcastic question of which end? After the laughter had died down, Lancer retorted that the 17-year-old could find out in detention.
Normally, detention was Lancer’s chance to unwind; to bask in the quiet as he encouraged his students to take the time to go over their studies. But today had been different. Not only had the lights gone out more than twice during his 3-hour prison sentence, but Danny had seemed different than earlier that day. Distracted, his eyes out of focus, shivering, and his quiet, slumped demeanor. Usually, the 17-year-old was pouting, refusing to do any real work, or trying to rally those who shared detention with him. But today he just sat there, quietly tracing some type of drawing on his textbook with his finger, his head resting against his desk.
Lancer had let it go for a while… after all, it was beginning to become obvious something was wrong. But into the 2nd hour, the complete lack of motivation, had become annoying, eating away at the older man’s patience. The other students in the classroom had taken Danny’s character as an invitation to abandon their own work for better things such as texting, making paper planes, or horseplay. Through the 17-year-old’s melodramatic and pitiful attitude, Lancer was losing control of his classroom. That had been when things had taken a turn, going from long to endless.
The older man had risen, scowling the other students into compliance as he made his way towards the cause of his current problem. Lancer scoffed when the teenager didn’t even bother reacting to his presence, but continued tracing over the outline of Thomas Jefferson on his torn-up history textbook. And it hadn’t been until Lancer had slammed his copy of Northanger Abbey on the 17-year-old’s desk that Danny reacted.
He jumped, flinging his book from the desk as he jerked towards Lancer, a look of horror crossing his face as he straightened slightly. The older man crossed his arms, a stern look casted down as he raised an eyebrow while the teenager scrambled to grab his textbook from the floor, flipping to a random chapter. Lancer stood there for several minutes, ensuring Daniel was at least pretending to read the words in front of him, and to enforce his authority as the superior in the classroom to his other students. This didn’t last long.
Once he had situated himself back at his desk, opening his book to the last page he’d read, Danny had raised his hand. Lancer raised his head towards his pupil but ignored him and continued reading. After a few minutes, the teenager put his hand down but forced it in the air a few moments later. Again, the English teacher refused to acknowledge his student’s attempt to leave detention. Normally, Danny would give up and ride out the rest of his punishment, partially compliant. Lancer had learned this during the kid’s Sophomore year; refusing to acknowledge or give the teenager permission for whatever excuse he had, was the only way to ensure he completed detention without further incident.
Lancer watched from his peripheral as the 17-year-old dropped his hand, sighing loudly as he continued scanning the words in his barely passible history book; Lancer smiled slightly. Some quiet had passed, relaxing the mood in the room as the older man felt himself beginning to unwind from the day once again. A few seconds later, however, there had been a noise, and the older man had glanced up to see Daniel rushing from the room, his book once again smacked against the tiled floor. The remaining students had jumped, conversing amongst themselves as their eyes watched the open-door slam against the wall.
Lancer grit his teeth, a scowl crossing his face as he calmly rose, placing his book on his desk before glaring towards the remaining students. They straightened, returning to their tasks as the older man exited the classroom, closing the door gently as he traced over the small indent in the wall from the door handle slamming against it. He shook his head as he glared back inside the classroom to his students watching him before looking busy as the wooden door clicked shut.
Out of all his antics, Danny had never defied Lancer enough to leave. And something in his gut told the English teacher this was either a new low from the teenager or an incident that needed attending to. Lancer had hoped all that was needed was a harsh conversation and another week of detention, but as he rounded the corner past the lockers, the root of the 17-year-old’s behavior became evident.
The older man closed his eyes briefly, sighing loudly as he ran a hand over his bald head and made his way towards the kid. Danny was hunched over one of the trashcans in the hallway, retching loudly as his arms trembled slightly, threatening to bring him down from his own weight. He had expected the unpleasant smell of half-digested food, but what Lancer hadn’t expected was the warmth radiating off the teenager as he reached out to grasp his shoulder. Both him, and the 17-year-old gasped, and Lancer stumbled back slightly as Danny pushed him away, slumping against the wall as he slid to the floor.
Danny had landed with a small smack, and he groaned as he eyed his teacher before closing his eyes and leaning his head against the wall. He mumbled something that sounded like a half-assed apology as Lancer inspected his character. Pale, sweaty features set in a flushed undertone as pink ate at his cheekbones. The English teacher ran another hand over his head as he glanced towards his classroom, then back towards his pupil, before turning and advancing towards the class.
After explaining that he felt like cutting detention short due to the storm clouds forming outside, Lancer had gathered his belongings, slinging Danny’s tattered backpack over his shoulder as he crossed through the halls towards the teenager still slumped against the wall, pitifully. He knelt down, reaching a hand out to rouse the 17-year-old, his fingers brushing against his hairline as he made an attempt to check his temperature before the kid jumped. He grasped Lancer’s wrist, pulling it from him harshly, his fingers tight enough around his arm that the older man could feel Danny’s fingernails digging into his flesh.
The teenager’s eyes were locked on his English teacher; the warm blue turning cold and hard as a menacing look crossed his face. Lancer had opened his mouth to speak but closed it a second later as Danny tightened his grip. He’d been surprised by the amount of strength the kid possessed seeing as he always seemed lanky, awkward, and weak. And the threat crossing the 17-year-old’s face sent chills down Lancer’s spine as Danny blinked, releasing his grip before apologizing quickly.
The older man stilled, his eyes glancing over his student as the kid refused to make eye-contact with him. Lancer sighed, offering the teenager a ride home, only to find out that his parents had been out of town for the past few days and weren’t due back until later that evening. And after a very awkward but short conversation with the Fenton’s and finding out their flight had been cancelled due to the oncoming weather, Lancer was driving a pissed off teenager to his own house until his parents returned. Thus, claiming an uncomfortable situation which neither Daniel nor Lancer liked much. But the older man wasn’t a monster… and if a night of letting Danny occupy his guestroom until he was convinced the 17-year-old was fine was what it took, then the English teacher would bare through it.
Lancer sighed again, letting his mind drift as he felt his body relaxing, sleep creeping towards him. Outside, the wind ate away at the chimes and shutters surrounding the house, lightening sparking against powerlines as the lights wavered in and out. Thunder roared overhead, creating a low rumble through the old house as the imminent threat of a tornado loomed in the horizon. But silence engulfed the English teacher as the thought of just resting for a few minutes evaded his tired mind…
It hadn’t been the flinch that woke Lancer, but the loud crash of things falling. Panic clouded his mind as the thought of a tree crashing through the front windows washed over him as he jumped up, cursing loudly. He glanced towards the windows quickly to find them intact and instead turned his attention in front of him as another sound hit him. Heaving.
“Lord of the Flies!” Lancer remarked as he turned his attention towards the sound. The coffee table had been overturned, laying on its side, its belongings littering the floor. And the rickety bookshelf the older man had been wary of earlier, had fallen slightly; its shelves no longer apart of it as the books wedged between non-existent space had crashed to the floor, surrounding Danny as he struggled to breath.
Lancer made his way around the overturned table, crouching down next to the kid as he gagged again, vomit coating his sweatshirt, puddling on the floor below as sweat trickled down his temple. The older man put a steady hand on the teenager’s shoulder, running his hand between his shoulder blades as the muscles in the 17-year-old’s back spasmed between heaves. Lancer let out a slow breath, his voice low and calm, “Alright. It’s alright, Daniel. You’re alright, just get it up. It’s alright…”
The teenager tensed, breathing through his nose lowly as he spit foul-tasting salvia from his mouth, and concentrated on settling his stomach. He felt disgusting, sweaty and embarrassed. He could feel vomit squished between his fingers, and the fact that he had just emptied the contents of his stomach on his English teacher’s floor, mortifying. But considering he had forgotten he wasn’t home, and in attempt to seek out the bathroom, tripped over the coffee table, not only taking it and its belongings down, but falling against the bookshelf, bringing a pile of books crashing to the floor with him, was more humiliating than the acidic puddle in front of him.
Danny closed his eyes briefly, breathing slowly as he leaned back on his knees, scrapping a hand against his mouth and chin. He turned his head towards his teacher but refused to make eye contact because he was afraid of the expression on the older man’s face. The 17-year-old groaned inwardly, setting a hand on his stomach as he let the short silence pass over them; the television cutting off then flicking back on a second later.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Lancer asked softly as he glanced around at the state of his living room. Surely, the shelves or books had fallen on top of the kid when he fell, and given the state of the coffee table, Lancer was betting the kid had tripped over it or something. The splintered shelves could have cut him, or his foot could have gotten caught on the ledge, and injury wasn’t something the older man really wanted to add to his list of problems right now.
Danny was quiet for a while, making brief eye contact with Lancer before looking back towards the floor. He swallowed loudly against the hiccups forcing themselves up his throat and hunched his posture further. He looked downright miserable which didn’t help Lancer’s current situation. The 17-year-old swallowed again before muttering quietly, “Sorry, I’ll help you clean up… I’m sorry about all the mess.”
Lancer sighed, relief washing over him as the kid finally spoke. He ran a hand over his head as he bowed his head, trying to get the teenager to look him in the face, “That doesn’t answer my question, Mr. Fenton. Are you hurt?”
Danny froze for a few seconds before meeting the teacher’s gaze slowly. He shook his head, his body twitching slightly as hiccups still resonated through his chest. Lancer nodded, glancing over the kid quickly, looking for any visible injuries but finding none, and ran his hands over his knees before standing, exhaling loudly.
The wind howled outside, and the branches on the tree outside knocked against the window forcefully as Lancer glanced towards the clock hanging on the wall. It was around 2am, which answered two questions: Was he to be expected at school tomorrow and was he going to get any sleep tonight. The 17-year-old coughed gently, and the older man turned his attention back towards the teenager.
“Well,” Lancer started carefully, “Let’s get things cleaned up.”
Danny cast his gaze back towards the floor as he moved to pick up one of the books next to him. Lancer crouched down again, pulling the book from the kid’s grasp, “What are you doing, Daniel?’
The teenager glanced up slowly, “You said to clean-”
Lancer shook his head, cutting the kid off, “The state of my living room doesn’t concern me right now, Mr. Fenton. You, however, do. Despite what you and your friends may think of me, I’m not heartless.”
Danny’s expression shifted as the older man grasped the kid’s arm, pulling him to his feet. He put a hand on the teenager’s shoulder as he swayed slightly, an eyebrow raised as a silent question flashed across the teacher’s face. The 17-year-old swallowed and gave Lancer a weak nod before crossing his arms over his stomach gently, stepping around the chaos as he followed Lancer into the hallway.
He shivered harshly as his ghost sense went off, and his eyes danced over the photos nailed against the ugly wallpaper in the hallway. Pictures of family- of times no one at Casper High knew of; a different side of the English teacher never shown. Danny lingered on the photo of a young boy with blonde hair, a huge gap-toothed smile swallowing his face as he held his ice cream cone towards the photographer. Confusion crossed the teenager’s face as he glanced over some of the other photos, the blonde kid present in almost all of them… and a pretty woman in a few others, posing next to the kid. As far as everyone knew, Lancer didn’t have kids, and he wasn’t married.
His ghost sense went off again, and Danny shivered as he paused momentarily, the photos around him blurring together, spinning into a colorful mess as dizzying fatigue washed over him, his limbs shaking as they fought to bring him down. He made a slight noise as he glanced towards the end of the hall, towards a small boy hiding behind a half-closed door; his green eyes huge and alarmed as he watched the teenager. Danny swallowed, Lancer’s questions floating over him as the boy peered further out the door, motioning for the 17-year-old to follow.
The teenager made an attempt to move, the hallway spinning as the pictures on the wall melted together in an array of sickening colors, and Danny blinked slowly as several spirits began to crowd around him, blood forced from gruesome wounds. A sharp noise escaped his mouth as he glanced back towards the boy, only to find the doorway empty, the door fully open now. Chills washed over him as his knees gave out, and his ghost sense sparked again.
Someone grasped at him, a hand gripping his arm while another snaked over his torse, pulling him back on his feet. Black filtered through Danny’s vision momentarily as his body went limp before he groaned, looking towards his left as Lancer adjusted his grip on his torso, asking something Danny couldn’t grasp. The teenager’s feet dragged against the wooden floor as he struggled to gain his footing, but his legs felt clumsy and foreign. He felt like shit, weird, split into two, leaning heavily against his teacher as the older man led him slowly down the hall, towards the room that’d been previously occupied by a scared little boy.
The 17-year-old hadn’t realized he’d been deposited on a bed until everything stopped moving. The room swaying slightly but no longer spinning in a multitude of nauseating colors. Heat pressed against his body as he glanced over the side of the bed towards the boy he’d seen earlier, hiding behind the rocking chair in the corner. His eyes fixed on the teenager as cold air pushed past Danny’s lips, and he shivered again, turning towards the ceiling fan as his shoes were slipped off his feet, followed by his socks.
He groaned as Lancer pulled his hoodie over his head gently, forcing his arms from the sleeves, leaving him shivering against the warmth dotting against his skin. He was freezing. His ghost sense going off every few minutes, causing his body to ice, goosebumps breaking out over his arms as warmth rushed through him a second later. He blinked slowly, feeling something press against his forehead, and he squinted towards Lancer leaning over him.
“We need to get that fever down, Daniel,” He whispered, running his hands through the kid’s messy black hair. Danny groaned, tuning out his teacher’s movements as he turned back towards the boy hiding behind the chair, hoping that this was as worse as his night got…
……………………………………………………
Heat. Heat blistered against tired flesh and limbs that refused to move… and warmth. Warmth pressed against bruised flesh gently, killing the heat sweating against him, weighing him down in thick blankets. Warmth poured over him, comforting him, drowning the confusion and panic etched in his veins, and Danny suddenly found himself calling to his childhood memories.
“M-mom?” He whispered, his voice barely audible as it scratched past his throat, rough and raw. He swallowed harshly, trying to force his eyes open but finding the task difficult. His body felt heavy, weak, tired… he felt like he had gone several rounds with Skulker… or someone worse.
“Shh, don’t talk, Daniel,” Someone said softly, and Danny blinked slowly, squinting against the dim lights swaying next to him. He shivered as shadows danced around him, and he groaned loudly as he tried pushing himself up. Strong warm hands pressed against his chest, keeping him in place as any strength the teenager had, left him momentarily.
Warmth threatened to pull him under again, and Danny swallowed, his head lolling to his right as he forced his eyes to stay open against flickering, dancing lights. Something pressed against his temple, his cheek, his neck, dampening the fire momentarily wherever the warmth touched, lingering against his skin just long enough to cool the sweat clammed against his body.
Danny coughed harshly as he opened his eyes sluggishly, unaware he had closed them, and he glanced around disoriented, his neck aching from the little effort he put into turning it. His vision wavered slightly, and the 17-year-old groaned as he made another feeble attempt to move only to be stilled by calm hands.
“Just relax, Daniel. Otherwise, I might be obliged to add to your weeks’ worth of detention,” Someone chuckled softly, and Danny forced his eyes open again, “Mr. L’ncer?”
The 17-year-old winced as his voice met his ears, weak and small; the syllables barely leaving his mouth as his tongue felt heavy against his teeth. He swallowed, his mouth feeling cottony and thick as his eyes lazily met his English teacher’s face hovering above him; a stern expression settled on tired features.
The teenager groaned loudly, closing his eyes briefly as the room began to spin, leaning his head back as he listened to the silence surrounding him. A quiet popping echoing around him, and Danny squinted, noticing several candles sitting on the counter and next to him, their flames flickering wildly. Confusion crossed his face as Lancer leaned further over him, “The power went out a while ago, so I had to improvise as I couldn’t find any batteries for the flashlight.”
The older man held up the flashlight, shaking it gently as confusion continued to sit on the 17-year-old’s face. He blinked slowly as he tried to piece together everything. But it was hot. And he felt weird, sick, his mind a muddled mess of exhaustion; his headache still pounding behind his eyes. He tried moving again, sitting up slightly before being pushed back down gently as Lancer sighed, “I swear, Mr. Fenton, do you ever listen?”
Danny swallowed, doing his best to understand his surroundings. He sighed loudly, letting his head fall behind him as he slowly connected the dots. He was in a bathroom. More importantly, he was lying in a warm bath, shivering against the heat beaded on his skin. And more embarrassingly, Lancer was soaking washcloths in the water, pressing them against his face, wiping down the sweat that was forming on Danny’s body. It took him longer than he liked to realize his shirt was gone, gentle fingers pressing lightly against his torso, covering every inch of heat that surrounded the bruised and scarred flesh. Whether or not he was wearing further clothing wasn’t something Danny tried to think about, and if he had the energy, he would have protested this level of comfort. This level of embarrassment. This level of weakness. But he felt too tired, too sick, and too hot to care.
Something moved in his peripheral, and Danny peered at the end of the tub to find the boy from earlier sitting on the edge, his gaze still watching the teenager. He bent down slightly, his blonde hair covering his face as he touched the water before jerking his hand back and shivering. Warmth hit him as Lancer washed over his chest, and the 17-year-old squinted, his eyes still watching the boy, refusing to let his exhaustion overpower him.
The boy disappeared momentarily before returning to his spot at the edge of the bathtub, a rubber duck in his hand. He set it in the water gently, pushing it in Danny’s direction before smiling widely, his two front teeth gapped, three missing from the bottom. The 17-year-old stirred, pressing against Lancer’s hands as his eyebrows furrowed together, and he yelled, “Hey!”
The boy jumped from the ledge, fear setting on his face as Danny struggled against his teacher’s grasp. His ghost sense went off, goosebumps breaking out over his naked skin as the boy disappeared, and the teenager let out a strangled cry as he shoved Lancer’s hands away, leaning over the edge, water splashing to the floor as he scanned the hallway for the boy. The 17-year-old gripped the slippery ledge of the tub as he scrambled to pull himself up, water slapping against the ground loudly.
Lancer gripped the kid’s shoulders, forcing him back down as alarm crossed his face. He held the teenager down as the candles flickered, water soaking into his khakis as the 17-year-old continued to thrash. The older man let out a quick breath as he tried grabbing the kid’s attention, “Daniel! Danny!”
The teenager stilled, his gaze moving from the hallway towards his teacher as his nickname left Lancer’s mouth. The older man sighed softly as he felt the kid’s body relax, his grip loosening on the bathtub as the teacher eased him back down. The alarm that crossed Danny’s face earlier, vanishing as confusion set in, his head smacking once again against the back of the bathtub as exhaustion ate away at his features.
He exhaled loudly as Lancer pressed a washcloth against his forehead, leaving it there for several minutes before repeating the action. Danny swallowed softly, closing his eyes against the dimly-lit room as his teacher cleared his throat, “I’m sorry about the circumstances, Daniel. But your temperature spiked again causing you to pass out, and I had no other way of bringing it down quicker. I know it’s uncomfortable. My son freaked too.”
Danny turned towards his teacher’s voice but kept his eyes closed as his mind spun violently. He furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to understand the information, as he tried to recall the pictures on the wall in the hallway. He coughed, sweat dripping from his hair plastered against his face, “The kid…”
“In the photos. Yeah,” Lancer sighed, wiping across the teenager’s chest again before pressing another rag against his forehead, “He passed some time ago… a car accident.”
The 17-year-old’s eyes opened slightly as he met his teacher’s sad smile before his focus lazily danced towards the hallway. The boy stood there, leaning against the doorway as he fumbled with the zipper on the bottom of his blue jacket, worry flashing across his face as he met Danny’s gaze. The teenager swallowed again, closing his eyes as he turned his head away from the door, sweat rolling down his cheeks as it dripped from his chin.
“Hey…” He muttered softly as he tried calling the boy closer, as he tried to connect the dots. He felt like shit. Even after being extremely sick after the Accident, he didn’t remember it feeling like this. Then again, that had been 3 years ago… and Danny hadn’t really been sick since. But maybe that had to do more with Phantom. Maybe he’d left… leaving the 17-year-old as a barely alive thing. Maybe this was his immune system dying, the other half giving out as it had struggled to survive with half function over the years. Maybe this was the portal killing the other part of him, claiming what it had started.
Danny’s teeth chattered loudly as he shivered against the warmth, “I shou-should call my parents…”
“I assure you they’re fine, Mr. Fenton,” Lancer said calmly, rewetting a washcloth and pressing it against the teenager’s neck, “They’re just concerned, trying to find a quicker way back to New York… unfortunately, the storm is making that difficult.”
The 17-year-old swallowed slowly, confusion washing over him before swallowing again. He coughed, his throat raw and his mouth dry like sandpaper, feeling his mind slipping, the reality he could understand becoming harder and harder to grasp. Everything was muddled, fuzzy, hard to comprehend.
“I- I should call them,” He muttered softly, “Apologize for killing myself… they’re going to be-be so- disappointed in me…”
Lancer froze, alarm flooding through him as he choked. He watched the confusion on Danny’s face melt, his features relaxing slightly as moments passed. The older man turned the teenager’s face towards him, shaking his shoulder gently as he let out a sharp breath, “What? Mr. Fenton- what! What does that mean? Daniel? Daniel- Danny!”
The kid whimpered but other than that, showed no sign that he had even heard Lancer’s questions. The English teacher took a few slow breaths, closing his eyes as he forced the panic back down. Perhaps he had misheard… or the 17-year-old’s temperature was getting to him. Hallucinations and muddled speech were common, so perhaps, that’s all it was. Thoughts of a delusional and feverish mind.
Then again, Danny’s attitude had shifted over the years as he still maintained his cocky and sarcastic demeanor… but darker things lurked over him. Lancer knew the kid smoked from time-to-time, and he had heard from a few rumors that Fenton had become no stranger to weed or alcohol. Then again, the aspect of rebellion was fairly common in teenagers, and Lancer couldn’t see the Fenton’s letting their son get away with anything too serious. But perhaps they didn’t know… perhaps they didn’t know about their son’s newer habits. Or the fights. The grades. The attitude problem. The bruises or scars. Perhaps Danny was hiding his true self from them just as he was from his peers.
But it wasn’t Lancer’s place. Not exactly. Sure, he cared for the kid, as he did for many of his pupils. But Jack and Maddie had become neighborly to him after the loss of his son, and the divorce. They expected Lancer to keep Jasmine and Daniel on the straight-and-narrow when they entered high school… which Jazz was no problem… but Danny. Danny was a different story.
Every direction Lancer took, the 17-year-old steered in the opposite direction. And it seemed even worse the last couple of months. Lancer knew something had happened between Fenton and Manson… and Danny seemed really broken up about it. After all, he had overheard Foley’s comment that the two had begun dating… among other things. And rumors were they’d been caught in the Janitor’s closet several weeks prior… But for the past few months, both Danny and Sam could barely sit next to each other, let alone look at each other. And most of the flirting Lancer had come to expect from the two, was replaced with cold stares, harsh short comments, and feeble excuses as to why they couldn’t work together.
Something sounded behind him, and the English teacher jerked, turning his head quickly towards the hall, squinting against the flame’s shadow dancing over the dark doorway. He scanned the empty area before closing his eyes briefly, breathing slowly through his nose, allowing his thoughts to calm as thunder roared overhead. Most nights Lancer could swear his house was haunted. Haunted by the memories of his past, the memories of his wife, his son… the life he missed every day. But that was ridiculous. An idealization deluded from the minds of Jack and Maddie Fenton… and nothing more.
The lights flicked several times as one of the lightbulbs above the bathroom counter popped, before burning out. The TV in the living room spluttering to life, news blasted through old speakers loudly before silence and darkness once again evaded the small house. Lancer sighed, running a hand over his head, listening to the rain pelt against the roof. Despite it being close to 10am, the storm hadn’t ceased… in fact, it seemed worse with every passing hour which was ironically befitting given Lancer’s current situation, and Danny’s condition.
The English teacher sighed loudly, wringing another washcloth out before pressing gently against the teenager’s forehead, cheeks, and neck as lightening cracked against the house. The 17-year-old whimpered softly, his eyebrows drawing together momentarily before Lancer shushed him, forcing another rag against his forehead lightly. Despite trying his best to bring the kid’s fever down, the older man was more than certain he was doing little to cause a significant change in the teenager’s temperature. Or at least it felt like that.
When the 17-year-old had passed out in the hallway, collapsing against Lancer the second he was pulled from the floor, going limp in his arms as the older man tried his best to hold Danny as gently as he could, Lancer had been at a loss. But when the lights spazzed, the shutter door slamming against the entryway and the power gave out, Lancer was close to both panicked tears and self-consumed anger.
He’d been angry over the situation. Over the power going out, the storm wreaking havoc outside and forcing flights to ground. Angry with his own useless attempts to soothe the teenager he thought he could care for. Angry he hadn’t taken Danny to the Emergency Room earlier and angry, that in spite of everything, the teenager seemed to be getting worse rather than better. Panic had eaten away worry and concern, leaving fear racing through thoughts riddled with questions; his own parental instincts, despite having died long ago, blaring as every sound, every cough, every whimper, and every unconscious groan that whispered from the 17-year-old’s mouth, sent Lancer’s senses on high alert.
Something that had scared Lancer more than he could account for was the fact that the 17-year-old was crying, hard, and his temperature. The moment he was near, the heat melting off Danny was deeply concerning, sweat plastered down pale flesh, dripping in puddles down his face and soaked through hand-me-down clothes Lancer had given him earlier. The teenager had been on the verge of hyperventilating when Lancer pressed his hand against his forehead, worry and panic lacing his tired mind as Danny cried harder, pleading with fevered hallucinations to leave and forgive him.
The thought of which was worse, the storm or Danny’s illness, no longer a debate but a firm decided answer that should have been sought long ago. But Lancer wasn’t sure if he would be able to find his keys in the dark, the rain pounding sideways against the windows as it threatened to break glass… and even though it was early morning now, the sun having rose two hours prior, it was still black as hell outside. Lancer’s own attempts to calm the teenager were futile. He was out of his element… so beyond his own familiarity, and he had forgotten how to soothe his own child. Lancer needed help, he needed another adult, and Danny needed a parent, but the older man hadn’t been a parent in a long time…
…………………………………………………………………………………….
He wasn’t a hero. Because a hero wouldn’t do this. A hero couldn’t. And Danny Fenton was no hero. He’d shed blood through Phantom hands, ghosted in hellish torment as he sat, throne to bodies and souls collected at his feet. Human hands forever red with mortal lives, halfa instincts more dead than alive as Fenton became a facade for Phantom. A mask. A plaything. A puppet of normality and bitter resentment as Phantom was forced to live in a barely alive flesh suit. And now, only now, was the teenager hit with the realization that he was no hero. He’d never been.
He’d been a boy. Stupid and ignorant in childish idealization, playing make-believe, costumed in his parent’s clothes, pretending to be something more. Something better. But he wasn’t. He was joke. A harsh cosmic occurrence of puny humanity and preemptive temperament of selfish actions. Cocooned in the tranquility of his youth as he tried to convince himself that he was more than the blood dripping from halfa hands, that he was the savior of death instead of the bringer. But he’d been stupid. Weak. Pathetic. Insignificant. A joke.
Danny Fenton was a joke of unlovable fear and horrible outcomes. Death followed him. Shadowed by terrible posture and cold features. Sam had fallen for the wrong boy. Had loved the wrong boy. Fenton wasn’t a hero. He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t save her… fuck, he couldn’t save anyone. He was just a stupid kid with stupid luck. A false identity born to humanity, mirrored from the reality of Phantom, a messenger, a front for what had killed him years ago. Fake bravery. Fake chivalry. Everything fake.
Ectoplasm oozed down his temple, sliding past his left cheekbone, gathering at his chin as sweat and dirt fell past, splattering against ashen snow and green puddles of forgotten souls. Blood pooling from open wounds, forced between busted knuckles and broken fingers as red stained white. Danny choked, his fingers pressing tighter across Sam’s neck as blood gushed from wounds he couldn’t close… from a death he couldn’t stop. From a love he couldn’t lose.
The purple haloed around Sam no longer vibrant or visible through dark crimson, eaten away by the innocence of her youth, and the immorality dripping from Danny. He wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t a good guy… and Phantom? Phantom couldn’t save her. Phantom couldn’t save anyone. Ever. But Phantom wouldn’t have done this… he couldn’t. Fenton had.
Fingers slipping from flesh, Sam’s necklace pulled from her neck as Danny fought for a better grip, forcing the broken bones in his right hand to bend, to curve, to keep blood from puddling around him… to fix this. But he couldn’t. There wasn’t a way to fix it. A way to fix death. To restore what was lost. What he had taken. What he had always taken. Over and over and over again.
And now, because he wasn’t willing to live without Phantom, Fenton had destroyed the one thing he loved more than anything. The one girl he loved more than anyone. The one girl willing to fight for him instead of Phantom. But that had been a mistake. Sam loving him had been a mistake. He and Sam had been a mistake. An intimate beautiful mistake.
Danny wasn’t the same person she’d fallen in love with. He wasn’t the same person he used to be. He was different. Darker. Quieter. Colder. He was awkward in his own shadow, uncomfortable in a foreign skin as he allowed Phantom more and more control. Danny Fenton was a waste. Danny Phantom wasn’t. He was the thing people needed. But Phantom wasn’t the one Sam had loved. He wasn’t the one she trusted. He wasn’t the one she tried so desperately to save… He wasn’t the one who had killed her.
The fight was over the second it’d begun. Box Ghost had slipped through the Ghost Zone, followed by Skulker and Johnny; the three musketeers of complete failure as they threatened to destroy the state of New York. But Danny had barely broken a sweat. Ghosts were easier now; less challenging than in his youth, repetitive and old, and most of the time, the teenager had bigger things to worry about. Like Spirits. The Veil. The Spirit World. And Vlad. There was always Vlad fucking Masters. A pain in the Fenton family ass… not that Jack would ever admit it.
Snow had started littering the ground in heavy flurries by the time Vlad appeared. Danny had sat on the park bench for hours, waiting for the stupid pointy-haired bastard to make an appearance; after all, Danny had gotten his message the night before when he was pulled into the Veil. He always got the message while in the Veil. He wasn’t welcome. He was never welcomed. And the Spirits collected within made sure he knew it, made sure he stayed long enough to understand the damage he had caused, the lives he had fucked, and the lives he had taken. Many in the Spirit World knew him, but he knew very little about them.
Despite knowing almost everything about the Ghost Zone, the teenager knew almost nothing about the Spirit World. About summoning. The Veil. The Spirits. He only knew how to tune them out, but the older he got, the more his power grew, the harder it was to keep them in check. Too many times had he been caught in public, or with his parents, or his sister, talking, ranting, yelling or even fighting Spirits that refused to leave. He couldn’t block them out. Their voices, cries in the dark, hands pulled through murky water towards his body as he dreamed, screams echoed through restless thoughts. They were getting harder to ignore… harder to kill.
Drugs didn’t really work anymore, barely a dull buzz of quiet whispers, and other outlets were laughable options. Weed made it hard to focus between Fenton and Phantom, his abilities harder to control… and the Spirits had barely left. Ecstasy was great, the screams a distant thought, the Spirits warping into smokes of green, yellow and red; but Phantom disappeared too, refusing to appear for several days after. And Acid… Acid just made the teenager more jittery, more paranoid, more on-edge than he already was.
Vlad had taught him a few tricks to keep the Spirits quiet enough to function before he died. He’d promised to teach Danny more, but his death made that almost impossible. Unlike the Ghost Zone, the Spirit World lacked a supernatural possession; rather turning anyone such as Vlad, normal and human- barely able to summon Danny through the Veil to talk. And Danny? Danny’s powers were pretty much useless inside the Veil, humanity coursed through fragile bones, muscle, and skin as blood beat through a half-alive thing. The teenager could barely summon, barely survive a night in the Veil, of being pulled through, forced out-of-body through airless lungs and the stillness of a barely beating heart.
In the Spirit World, the teenager was human. So very human. And so very vulnerable. A War progressed through the Veil, the Spirits capable of darker, more sinister realities than Ghosts such as Skulker or Freakshow could ever procure. A world of Death. True Death. The promises of the Ghost Zone vanquished through shreds of paper-thin souls of victims to the War. Death in the Spirit World meant no Ghost Zone after. No other World beyond. No connection or tie back to humanity. To the Human World. Nothing. Just black. Just…
The 17-year-old’s ghost sense had been going off for hours; his teeth chattering as he pulled the thin green jacket closer, cursing Vlad for taking his sweet time. To any untrained individual, the teenager appeared to be alone… but Danny was never alone. Not anymore. His shove through the Veil on his 16th had killed any isolation or solitude he had. They were always there. Always watching. Always with him.
The teenager grit his teeth as he smacked his head against the bench behind him, staring towards the grey sky as white dust fell in clumps, blanketing Amity Park… and most likely, the rest of New York. The weather had been unpredictable lately; a chaotic shitshow of indescribable patterns, something his father chalked up to some weird readings in the Ghost Zone. Despite never really seeing a ghost, his parents still obsessed over them, inching closer and closer to diving into the portal with each passing week. But Danny, Danny wished he’d never have to see another fucking ghost in his life.
More and more of the transparent bastards had been slipping through the portal lately. Part of that was Danny’s fault. The other, unknown. Valerie had helped pick up the slack, along with the Fenton Duo, but the teenager had more important things to worry about like Spirits. The harder they were to ignore, the more of them appeared… and they could touch him. Hurt him. Kill him… the scars plastered against his right ribs should be evident enough to speak to their danger. He’d barely survived his first trip through the Veil, and Vlad kept pulling him fucking through… mainly because summoning wasn’t something the 17-year-old had mastered yet. And with Vlad dead, Danny doubted if he’d ever actually be able to master summoning… leaving no hope for resurrection.
Something kicked against the teenager’s red converse, and Danny shot up quickly, expecting Vlad to be standing over him. A smile crawled across his face as his eyes met Sam, her black hoodie blowing viciously against the winter air, small specks of white clinging to the fabric. She kicked his foot again, tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear, “Hey.”
“Hey yourself,” Danny smirked, forcing his hands in his pocket, his right hand clamped around the red lighter he had stolen from his dad’s secret stash. Whether or not Jack Fenton had noticed a few of his smokes were missing, the teenager would never know. After all, if his father ended up confronting him about it, then that meant Jack would also have to come clean to Maddie about smoking… something he supposedly gave up a few years after Danny was born.
Sam slumped down next to him, her shoulder hitting his as Danny turned towards her, smiling. Sam rolled her eyes, her purple lipstick twisting into a grin as she leaned her head against his shoulder. She sighed, “So, I take it Vlad hasn’t shown?”
The 17-year-old shook his head, before clearing his throat, “No.”
“That’s pretty unusual for him, isn’t it?” She asked, pulling her head up as wind forced her hood down, short black hair flying chaotically. She glanced in Danny’s direction as he flicked some snow off his jeans. He hadn’t really thought about Vald’s behavior- about his pretty punctual habits, but now that it was mentioned, it was rather worrisome the older man hadn’t shown yet. Especially given he seemed rather paranoid the night before. But surely, the older man would have said if he was in danger.
Danny shrugged his shoulders, meeting Sam’s gaze, biting his bottom lip. Pieces of ice clung to her hair, freckled across her face, and the 17-year-old hesitated, before brushing his thumb across her cheek carefully, wiping away some of the fallen snow. He paused, his fingers pressing gently against her jawline, following the curve softly before Sam pressed her hand over his. Danny froze, warmth flooding his face as he refused to advert his gaze.
Sam had been weird lately. She’d been acting weird… almost feminine… which was weird for both Tucker and Danny as they had always seen her as one of the guys. But between a few awkward non-date dates, a few fake-out make-outs, and being caught half-naked in the Janitor’s Closet a few weeks prior when Danny had phased through the wrong room after a fight; Danny was finding it harder to act normal around her. And then there was the Annual Winter Dance last month which neither Sam nor Danny refused to acknowledge, involving some sloppy drinking, heated kissing, and one awkward morning after at the Fenton household as Danny tried sneaking Sam from his room only to be caught by his sister.
Since then, Sam had become more… Well, it was hard to explain because Danny was pretty sure he’d become more of it too. Every moment he was around her, it seemed like he had reverted back to his weird, awkward, clumsy demeanor. He couldn’t talk around her anymore, let alone act normal anymore. His ghost sense unpredictable, his powers uncontrollable as his body forgot how to be him around her. He couldn’t eat or sleep and paying what little attention he normally did in class, unbearable. He couldn’t get Sam out of his head. Her purple lipstick. Her laugh. Her hands clasped around his. Her mouth… Her. And it was driving him insane.
Mentioning it to anyone was out of the question. Tucker had them married in 9th grade. His parents were too hyperactive and weird to be able to deal with their only son dating- let alone his sister’s recollection of her very awkward first date that involved more of Jack Fenton than Danny wanted to picture. And Jazz? Jazz had freaked when she had caught Danny and Sam together the morning after the Annual Winter Dance, forcing both teenagers to attend a lecture involving responsible actions, so asking Jazz for advice was out of the question. Honestly, Danny had found some console in Vlad, but that bastard’s advice was wishy-washy and outdated.
Sam’s fingers brushed over the rough scars on his hand before she trailed up his arm. Her hand hesitating on his shoulder before cupping the back of his neck, her fingers tussling his hair softly. The wind whooshed past, snow raining over them as Sam met the 17-year-old’s gaze, a small smirk painted across purple lips. Danny shivered slightly, brushing his thumb over her cheek again, “I-”
“Shut up,” Sam cut him off, pulling herself from the bench as she pressed her lips against his, pushing the 17-year-old back slowly as he dropped his hand from her cheek, trailing down her shoulder slowly, arm, back. He inhaled loudly, a hand pressed against the small of Sam’s back, the other pressing her closer to him as she kissed him again, one of her hand’s slipping underneath his shirt. Cold fingers pressed against the warmth on his back. Black nails scrapping gently over scarred flesh, fingers through black hair, and Danny’s hands dragging her closer. Sam was driving him insane… but maybe this time, they could acknowledge it… maybe this time, he could tell her how he really felt.
Maybe this time he could tell her he couldn’t get her out of his mind. That he couldn’t concentrate around her, he couldn’t get that night at the dance out of his mind… that she made everything better, made everything okay. He needed her like he needed air. She was a reminder that he was still alive, that he was still human, that he was still more than Phantom. Because she seemed to want him more than Phantom… She liked him. Not Phantom. And that- that was all Danny ever wanted from someone. From her…
Her nails scrapped harder against his back as Sam straddled him; her hair flying in the wind, covering her face, smacking against Danny’s face comfortingly. His hands gentle as they trailed down the rest of her back, her thighs, holding her steady against him. Her lips forceful against his, nails marked against skin, her heart pounding against his. She breathed deeply, “Danny…”
“Well, isn’t this nice,” Someone sneered. Danny pushed Sam off him gently, jumping to his feet as he pressed Sam behind him, his stance protective as he met the stranger’s gaze. The 17-year-old watched as a woman stepped forward, a smirk on her face as she pushed some of her long blonde hair behind her ear. She eyed the 17-year-old, sizing him up as she walked around the small bench. She scoffed, “They said the halfa was young, but I never would have thought this young… Tell me, handsome, do you even know how to tie your own shoes?”
Danny tensed, “Do you want to find out?”
The woman laughed loudly, circling them once more before standing a few feet from him, “Oh, and that wit. I bet you’re a troublemaker, uh?”
She crossed her arms, straightening her posture until she was eyelevel with him. Her skin almost translucent against the white ground, blood dotting against her neck where a necklace should have been. Her bright pink and blue jumpsuit standing out against the snow, fitting the ideal clothing for an 80’s teenager… her blonde hair in half-buns, purple triangle earrings dangling from her ears. She laughed again, shaking her head, her red lipstick twisting slightly as she peered towards Sam.
Sam had risen from the bench, pulling her hoody back over head as her hair still fought against the wind. She forced the sleeves past her hands, her fingers intertwining gently with Danny’s as the 17-year-old stepped forward, “Where’s Vlad?”
The woman cocked her head, her smile offsetting as she held up her hand, inspecting her chipped blue fingernails, “I wouldn’t worry about Grandpa anymore. He’s been taken care of.”
The teenager swallowed, dropping his hand from Sam’s as he took another step forward, his hands burning slightly as Phantom threatened to appear. Danny swallowed, “What did you do to him?”
The woman laughed again, shoving her hands on her hips as she faced the 17-year-old again, “You’ve become quite the gossip in the Veil. Did you know that? Everyone talks about the halfa; the teenage boy with a hitlist bigger than… well… for decency, think of someone historically bad. The merciless angel. The bringer of death. The red. You could say you’ve become very popular amongst Spirits… and to hear, the little ghost boy could be harmed,” She paused, clasping her hands together as a smile painted her face, “Well, that was like Christmas morning.”
Sam reached for Danny’s shoulder, her fingers gracing over the fabric of his hoodie as he stepped forward again, “What did you do with Vlad?”
The woman smirked, “Me? No, honey, I’ve done nothing. See, I don’t really care for the creepy-uncle-lotion-in-the-basket types. You, however, are much more interesting. Much more powerful than Vlad would be… I can feel it. Radiating off you like the wind around you. It’s beautiful… And we can hurt you. We can touch you. Something those pathetic airbags in the Ghost Zone could only dream of. And believe me, pretty boy, there are many in the Veil eager to show you their real power. Eager to walk this Earth again… all we need is the blood of the halfa.”
“Fuck you!” Sam yelled, stepping in front of the 17-year-old, her finger’s gripping Danny’s wrist. Sam took a step forward, her stance tense, her hood down as wind washed over her. Snow beading in black hair, melting down her face as hatred flashed across her features. Her grip tightened around the teenager’s wrist, protectively; and Danny swallowed softly as he realized she wasn’t about to let go.
The woman stepped forward slowly, smirking again as she chuckled, “Call off your guard-dog, Daniel. I have no intention of killing you today… besides, in order for us to be reborn, you have to come to us willingly. Which I give you… a year before you enter the Veil for the last time.”
Danny scoffed, “Unlikely.”
He shivered as he met the woman’s gaze, her smile hiding something that scared the teenager more than the threat. An understanding… knowing. She knew what went through his mind. What he thought about, how he thought about himself… The way she looked at him, the way she smirked towards him, sneering… she knew. About the drugs. The blood. About the recklessness. She knew what stimmed through a tired mind in the nightmarish reality of Fenton from Phantom. She had to know… but the only way she would, would be- Vlad.
Danny glanced down for a second, swallowing loudly. Him and Vlad had had their differences, but they seemed to work it out over the years… so would Vlad really tell people about him? Would he really betray his secrets to other people, well, Spirits? The teenager had confided in him over the years. Not about everything… but about himself, about how he had come to hate Phantom. How he had become forced to live with Phantom’s pain and torment. How he felt, as the years past, and he let Phantom have more power, he could feel reality crumpling around him. Crumpling in, and slipping through his fingers, through the cracks created by Phantom, opened and birthed through the Ghost Zone and Spirit World. How it felt like he was being drained… that his humanity was dying. Would Vlad really betray him like that? After all this time?
The woman scoffed again, “Perhaps. But I’m willing to help you out… give you another nudge in the right direction.”
Confusion crossed the 17-year-old’s face as he stepped forward again, only a few feet from the woman as she crossed her arms, raising her head. She shook her head slowly, “I can see you’re confused, so I’ll make it simple for your stupid hormonal teenage brain.”
There was a flash, and Danny dropped harshly, his hands and arms burning as he felt the shift starting to take over. Phantom gaining control as the Fenton canister, forgotten on the park bench, exploded loudly, and the teenager pressed his burning hands against the snow. Cold braced against his fingers as he looked up, wiping away some green ectoplasm that litter across his body, blood dripping down his chin slowly from a cut on his upper lip. His eyes flashed green as he let Phantom gain control, his body burning slightly as he shifted, the aching pain that plagued him, gone as Phantom took over.
Within a second, he had the woman pinned against the tree, a smirk twisting against his lips as she struggled pathetically. He huffed, his tone cocky as he tightened his grip, “You missed.”
The woman hesitated before laughing loudly, snapping her fingers as Phantom reverted back, forcing Fenton through translucent skin as he was shoved back into his teenage body. Sweaty fatigue washed over him as she kicked his leg, slamming him against the ground harshly, pinning him against the snow. The 17-year-old squirmed, trying to coax Phantom out, trying to shift but finding the task difficult, his fingers tingling and sparking green but refusing to change.
The woman snorted, grasping his hand in hers, smiling down at him as her blonde hair brushed over his chest. She pressed her fingers between his, humming softly before jerking her hand back, bending Danny’s fingers as she clawed at his palm, bones cracking, causing the teenager to scream loudly as he fought against her. After a few seconds, she let go as wind rushed past them, and she pressed her chest against his, stroking his hair back gently. She bent down further, her lips brushing against his ear, “I wasn’t aiming for you, honey.”
The 17-year-old twisted; his head jerked towards Sam as he tried forcing the woman from him. Blood splattered against the snow as Sam fell, her face pressing against the ice, her hand, bloodied and shaky, as she reached in Danny’s direction. The teenager cried loudly as Sam’s hand dropped in the snow, her body going limp as red bled through white. The woman pressed her fingers against the 17-year-old’s cheek as he screamed again; his hands and arms burning as heat clawed through his chest. Sam opened her mouth, purple lips parted but no words came, only tears trailing down pale flesh before green eyes shut.
The woman laughed softly, digging her nails painfully into Danny’s cheek and chin, prying his eyes away from Sam and towards her. Rage ate away at his features, his skin scorching against Phantom as green began to steam off him, his eyes flashing bright green before darkening as his eyes met hers. The woman tightened her grip as green smoke continued to envelope them; a smirk plastered to skin pulled back too tightly as she pressed her clammy forehead against his, gently. She took a deep breath as Danny struggled against her, his skin itching as black ectoplasm began to drip from his nose and ears, running down his face before smacking against the ground. Cold soaking through his clothes as his skin began to burn away, green fading to black, and black sparks radiating from his fingertips as the woman pressed her lips against his.
The teenager jerked away, his gaze meeting Sam’s stilled face. Her features silent, and Danny choked again as he yelled her name, fighting against the woman’s grasp again. Her nails dug once more into his flesh, pulling his face back towards her as black tears fell down his cheeks in thick trails. She thumbed some away slowly before licking the liquid from her thumb and smirking, pressing her chest once again against his.
“Such power. Such a waste,” She bent down further, her lips pressing against his temple, “Two down… See you in a year, lover.”
Pain seared across his chest, and the 17-year-old screamed as her hand pressed over his heart, burning against flesh as the greenish black swallowing him, ceased. His eyes flashed back to blue as he choked, grasping towards her hand before realizing she was gone. His hand pressing over the bloody handprint stained against his shirt as the pain slowly began to evade, and he twisted around, stumbling to his feet as he forced himself towards Sam….
#in the mood to watch danny phantom#danny phantom#fandom life#i need some fanfiction in my life right now#sick Danny#I was told to stop writing this and create a book out of this lol#posted on archive#lancer taking care of Danny#kb
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Back again with the request of the brothers and undateables reaction to MC drunk texting them that they love, Love them ❤️
Oh thank you so much for resending this! I'm sorry about the mishap before. I hope you'll enjoy these~ Since you didn't specify, these are written from the perspective that MC and the boys are in a relationship when they text the boys.
Also, I decided to split these up into two posts so this one will only have the Brothers in it, but I will put up a post for the Undateables real soon!
~
Lucifer:
The man sighed at his desk, signing what felt like the thousandth paper that night. It was only 1am so the night was still young; he knew he'd be at this till morning only to have to go through his duties tomorrow without rest. It was not unusual for him, but the oldest brother was still feeling a bit burnt out.
Ding.
He paused for a moment before setting his pen down and picking up his phone from the corner of the desk.
'Daaaddy. Mammnk dispered'
Ignoring the name they gave him, the man just stared down at the text. He gave another big sigh.
'MC, where are you?'
'I djnno. I went tk a party with Mammm and Asmo and thyy jsyt went poooff.'
God, his brothers were idiots. What if something happens to MC while they're off doing whatever?
'I'll track your phone then. I'll be there soon'
'Nuuu. I jsut wanna get my phone bacc from Mamsmm'
Oh dear Diavolo...
'Love, you're texting me off your phone.'
'Ooo. Yur rite!'
'I am coming to get you now.'
'Okaaaa bye Daddynm. Love yuo.'
The man rolled his eyes, but smile slightly down at the screen. What was he going to with his Love?
Mammon:
Shit! Where'd they go?! He took MC with him to the casino to help distract the other gamblers as he played cards-- hey don't judge!! He promised to buy them a few drinks afterwards. So there they were, sittin' and drink together when this guy he owes money to starts running up and yelling at him! Of course Mammon had to bail! He told MC to run with him but at one point he turned around and the human wasn't there! He's been rushing around and searching for them for the last twenty minutes. Where did they go??
Bing. His phone went off. The moron facepalmed. He has his phone! He should have been calling them or something.
'Baaaabbby. Im loneyl.'
'Oi! Where'd you go? I told you to follow me!'
'But I waz tlkin to thhe fnny man! He evn boght more deinks.'
Shit. They're still back at the bar. But with him of all people??
'Babe, why ya drinking with that jerk??'
'Im not. Hss wife cam e adn got him.'
Wife? Oh thank Diavolo, Belinda came through for him!
'Stay put, got that? I'm heading back now.'
'Kk I love yuo babbny 😘'
Mammon blushed as he read that last message.
'Ya, ya, just stay put, human.'
Leviathan:
Okay so Levi himself is not really a drinker in most circumstances. He pretty much sees it as another thing normies do and use as an excuse to spend time with other normies. Like, why would he care about something so stupid anyway?
Still, that doesn't mean there aren't exceptions to that kind of thing. Like the new bottle he won from a contest run by the creators of the anime I Partied So Hard That I Ripped Opened The Frabric of Reality And Was Met By My Future Wife Who Is Secretly A Cat Girl From Venus! I mean, it's seriously cool! It's the same brand of Venustian wine that Nyanitia loves in the anime!
Levi was so excited when it arrived that he practically begged MC to come to his room to drink it with him as he played his new video game from Akuzon. Honestly it didn't end up like he thought it would though. The wine barely did anything to him at all. I mean, yeah, the third brother didn't have a lot of experience with alcohol but he thought he would at least feel a little different than normal. Eh, whatever. The effect is kinda lame but it's still from the anime! If it's good enough for Nyanitia then it's good enough for him.
The demon shrugged it off and got absorbed in his video game to the point where he even stopped talking to MC, which wasn't unusual. After dying a couple times, he threw his controller down.
"Uggghh, can you believe that MC--"
The boy just noticed that he was alone. Oh... was he really that boring to hangout with? The Avatar of Envy started mumbling a lot of insults to himself as he picked up the bottle.
"Was my gaming that bad? Or was it the wine?" He mused sadly. "No, I bet it was the wine. It barely did anything to me so I doubt it effected them either...."
He starts reading the label on the back, skimming till he reads a section on alcohol level. Level for demons: mild.
"That explains it..." He grumbled, continuing to read in his head.
Level for Angels: low medium. Level for Humans: HIGH. WARNING. KEEP OUT OF REACH OF HUMANS.
Oh...oh no. What's gonna happen to his Henry?? Are they gonna die?? Is Lucifer gonna kill him??? GAH! Where did they go--
Beep. His phone!
'Leeevvvvvi. I fels wooozy.'
Panicking, the boy typed back.
'Where are you??? Are you dying???'
'Nuuuu. I'm jsyt wwwoooosh.'
Gah! What does that even mean?? Before the demon could respond, he got another message.
'Leeeevvvvi chan I lvoe you~.'
The boy's face and ears blazed red. I mean, yeah, it's not the first time he's heard/read them say that but still! Now isn't the time for this!
Another message.
'Sweeeeetue. Coem love me 😢'
The demon let out a panicked yell and charged out his door. His foot collided with something and he heard a whine.
"Sweeeeetie why?" MC laid on the floor of the hallway, pouting and looking more hurt emotionally than physically.
Still panicking, Levi picked up the human and brought them back into his room. He laid them in his bathtub and start researching the affects of Venustian wine on humans.
Boy nearly collapsed from relief and exhaustion when he found out they only had a sip and shouldn't have any health issues from it.
Ends up apologizing a million times over and becomes extra protective of them for the next couple weeks and is paranoid about every food and drink placed in front of them.
Satan:
It was an average evening for him. He was in his room, reading in bed as he waited for MC to come home. Asmo managed to convince them to go to a party with him. Satan didn't really want them to go tonight, but he saw their eyes light up with just the idea of it and the blonde couldn't bring himself to say a thing. Like him, MC didn't really have any experience with parties prior to this, but unlike him, they had a great interest in them. How could he ask them not to go if this was an experience they had wanted for a long time?
Ding.
The man laid his book down next to him and reached for his phone that he laid on the closest stack of books.
'Satn, peple are sk mean 😥'
The demon launched into a sitting position.
'Who needs to die?' He texted back, protective instincts springing up inside himself for them.
'Nno. Teh people here just amke me feel so lft out.'
He sighed. MC was too sensitive for that kind of environment.
'Kitten, tell Asmo to take you home now.' Satan texted before adding 'Tell him I said so.'
'Btu hes tlkin to a succubus'
'I don't care. Tell him what I said.'
'Okaa 😔'
The demon waited a few minutes, but didn't get a new message.
'Kitten?' He texted them.
Minutes when by. Nothing. The blonde got out of bed and started pacing. When that didn't help, he started to transform from the anger at his brother. He decided to text Asmo.
'Bring them home now or so help me, you will face a different type of hell when you get back.'
No reply from his brother either. The Avatar of Wrath was ready to start breaking shit.
Ding. He quickly checked his phone. It was MC.
'Bb I love you.'
The blonde stopped in his tracks. Why--after over 20 minutes of waiting-- was that their only response?
The demon reached out for his door knob, ready to go out and hunt for them, when his door swung open, revealing his brother, who was holding up an intoxicated MC.
"Ugh, you ruined my night!" The fifth brother complained.
Satan, still in his demon form, was ready to deck the other man at best and at worst, who knows. He didn't get the chance to find out because instead, MC tumbled forward and into his arms.
"Satan," They whined. "I wanna.... I wanna lay down."
The blonde took a deep breath before looking to his brother.
"Just leave. Now." He slammed the door closed on the other demon before laying MC down in bed and joining them. He pulled the blanket over them both and held his Kitten close to his chest.
"I should have...stayed home." They mumbled.
He kissed their forehead.
"It's fine. You're fine now, Kitten."
Asmodeus:
After a long, but fun night at The Fall, the Avatar of Lust had his fill was ready to get his beauty sleep. Sadly, he had lost track of his Doll. Oh dear, where could they be? Despite being so late, there were still plenty of people out and he was having trouble tracking them down.
Beep. The demon checked his phone.
'Azzy, I lvoe you🥰'
Asmo giggled, texting back.
'Aww! I love you too! Now where did you run off to? I miss my Dolly~.'
'By eth bahroons'
The man headed off that way and found MC on the floor in the hallway that led to the bathroom.
"Well, what are you doing down there?" He teased.
MC started giggling.
"I fell."
Seeing that they weren't hurt, the demon simply bent over and helped them up. The human instantly leaned against him and hugged him close.
"I love you, Azzy." They told him, closing their eyes as they enjoy the embrace and pressing their cheek against his.
Asmo let out a small laugh then pulled back just enough to kiss his Doll on their cheek.
"Oh you're just too adorable, you know that?" He told them before leading them to the front of the building. "Now let's go home, okay?"
Beelzebub:
Beel woke up for a midnight snack and headed to the kitchen. It was a quick in and out thing, not wanting to be caught by his brothers. He grabbed a whole cabinet full of snacks and carried them back to his room.
Ding. His phone went off and as he opened the door to his room.
The demon laid his snacks on his bed and got in before grabbing his phone off the nightstand.
'Beeesly, I love oyu~'
The redhead smiled happily. It was MC.
'I love you too. When are you coming home?'
No response. The demon simply opened up a bag of chips and started eating. It's fine; he can be patient.
Instead of getting a response however, he was greeted by his Muffin at door.
"I'm baaack~." The human giggled, stumbling just slightly as they walked up to the bed and flopped down before snuggling up to the big demon.
Beel kissed the top of their head, smiling at them.
"Did you have fun with Solomon, Muffin?"
"Mhmm." They said, closing their eyes and stretching out their legs, causing some of the snacks to fall to the floor. He didn't mind.
"That's good." He sat the chip bag on the stand so he could use both hands to hold them close.
The two of them laid there, cuddled up together. The big demon stroked their hair till they heard the human's breath slow and were asleep.
"G'night, Muffin." He whispered. "Dream sweetly."
Belphegor:
It was the middle of the night and Belphie was asleep. That might sound normal for the Avatar of Sloth to you, but in actuality, this was unusual for him. The sleepy boy slept so much during the day that he was usually awake starting from whenever he woke up from his after-dinner nap up until around 4 or 5 am.
Tonight, however, Belphie really wasn't feeling it. Ya know, the whole 'awake' thing. He didn't feel like being conscious. The same reason he didn't wanna be awake was the same reason why he wasn't sleeping very deeply either.; MC wasn't there with him.
That scum Mammon took them out somewhere and they didn't even tell him. He had to hear it from Beel. The 7th brother has been grumpy since then and didn't wanna do anything so he hid away in his attic and fell asleep.
Bing. Bing. Bing.
The demon let out a frustrated sigh. That was the 9th text he got in the last two minutes. He picked up his phone from the other side of the bed and begrudgingly read his messages.
'Belpphi'
'Beelphi
'Belphii'
'Babb'
'Babe'
'Babr'
'Beeelpie'
'Heeyy'
'Mr Moomooo man pay atttention ot me 😢'
"Mr. Moomoo man?" Belphie said out loud, scowling down at the screen. If he wasn't mad at MC, he would have cracked a smile.
'What's wrong with you?' He texted.
'Mammmn lfet me all alone 😔'
Belphie eyes went wide.
'What happened?'
'Mammo owes mnoey to this big Moloc guy and eh chased Maaamkn away.'
Ugh. Mammon's a dumbass.
'Where are you?'
'I dunno. He lefy me on a bench. Teh park?'
'The one by the school?'
'Mmaybe?'
The demon let out another big sigh.
'I'll be there soon. Don't move.'
'Okyy'
A couple seconds later, they sent another text.
'I love yuo, bb. Im srry 😔'
Belphie frowned. His anger at them was dissipating.
'Yeah, I love you too, butthead. Now stay there.'
~
Masterlist
#obey me#obey me otome#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me mc
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