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sameschmidtdiffname · 3 months

Text

Slip

Mike Schmidt x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: At some point or another, the words slip out. It's just that, naturally, you're an idiot who can't pick the right moment.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific pronouns for reader, night terrors, disassociation, attempted comfort, miscommunication, brief non sexual shower scene, unintentional harm, anxiety, sweet ending. (fr this time, I'm not pulling a 'Repentance.') Slight spoilers for 'Petals On The Wind' by V.C. Andrews.

Notes: I had a vision and I tried. Pls give me mercy.

▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

The night air is sweet, fresh with the smell of citrus from the soap I had used earlier that evening in my shower mixed with the damp smell of the dew forming on the grass and the leaves outside. The curtains shift slightly as the air spills into the dark room, the only light born by a small lamp clipped to the cover of my book as I read quietly.

Beside me lays Mike, facing the ceiling and looking as peaceful as he ever could. It was a relaxation that doesn't come to him in consciousness, too busy with thoughts I sometimes am not privy too. But I don't pry. I've heard most of the story from him and from Abby, and he is allowed to grieve the past alone. He knows I am always available to help him.

It had been a long day for him. He didn't need to tell me, it was obvious by the way he'd sat at the kitchen table, thinking he was alone and hands buried in his hair. I hadn't meant to spy on him, having just slipped out of my shower. He wasn't crying, but his face was pale and dreadful. The bags under his eyes a dark purple that they hadn't been earlier at dinner, and the haunted quality of his stare had increased in an alarming manner since I'd left him. Had he moved since dinner? Abby was in her room, her voice trailing quietly down the hall as she hummed to herself behind the closed door. The overhead yellow light directly above Michael made him look like a painting of doom, covered in shadows with sharp edges as dark as his thoughts.

When I guided him to bed he wouldn't talk to me. Not when I removed his shirt to change him into something clean. Not when I opened the bottle of pills he'd been able to relax on for the past couple weeks. And not when I held a glass of water to his lips, his mouth only moving to take a long drink before I guided him onto his back, where he stared at the ceiling quietly while I stroked his hair, watching him carefully until he drifted away into a drugged dream of obliviousness where hopefully he could find the peace he needed.

More often than not I read before bed. Usually Mike would lay his head on my chest, his eyes reading the same bits I would and commenting on something here or there, once in a while spoiling the next paragraph for me. But I never minded when he did, it was always an accident.

It did get to the point where Mike imposed a limit of two chapters a night, knowing I could become so enraptured in a story I wouldn't even pay attention to the world around me until I finished it, usually with the early light beginning to peak through the branches outside and create dancing rays of sun along our bed. It wasn't really a rule, more so a concerned request. There was no punishment if I didn't comply, if I deprived myself of sleep reading all that would exist as a reprimand is my own exhaustion. Mike would always silently pick up on this, more gentle with me and luring me away from my nightly ritual with his arms wrapped around my tired body, fingers combing through my hair and his even breathing coaxing me into the sleep I needed until his alarm would wake us, still wrapped around each other and warm in the morning glow of a new day with a new chapter. And recently I realized it was something about him I loved. Though I dare not say it out loud. Not yet.

I'm only a handful chapters into this book. It's one that I've read before, an ironic favorite from when I was younger and snuck books home that I'd borrowed from the woman next door after playing with her granddaughters. The subject of the novel was taboo, Gothic horror I would hide under my bed away from my mother's eyes until she would lay in her own bed, allowing me to click on a light and read until school the next morning. It's been years since I've revisited it, and this copy I had bought at a local thrift store for only a quarter with an excited smile, causing an amused look on Mike's face as he'd watched me.

"Shouldn't you read something you already own?" He'd teased while we walked out of the store hand in hand, Abby leading the way to our car.

I'd rolled my eyes, smiling as I checked for cars coming through the parking lot with no regard for little girls.

"Am I not allowed to spend a quarter on my passions?" I said.

"You absolutely are. I'm just wondering how you're going to read everything," he said with a small squeeze of his hand.

The answer is by drinking a cup of tea and working through the book in one sitting as he lays next to me, no work ahead of me for the next two days that would demand proper rest. No limitation able to stop me now. I'm a few hours into my plan when I notice his leg jolt beside mine, no movement otherwise.

I glance at him quickly, seeing if he's woken with a start. His eyes remain closed, lips parted slightly in sleep and otherwise seeming fine. So I resume my book, flipping to the next page to start chapter eleven.

Halfway through chapter thirteen, Mike gasps. Loud and quick, causing a cough to escape him. I slip a finger inbetween my pages, turning to face him and worry stabbing my chest as I wait for him to choke and thrash frantically. But he doesn't. He remains still, his pulse visible near his adams apple as his breath quickens slightly. I watch him, waiting for any signs of distress. But he remains still in sleep, and reluctantly I return to my book once more, having decided it was just a dream.

Finally, at the early hour of four o'clock his hand reaches out, nails digging into my thigh desperately in a way that's painful against my bare skin, raking down and surely creating a trail of blood in his wake as a short, startled yell of Abby's name pierces the air, his body going ridged. And then he's still, body shaking and eyes wide open in confusion, darting around the room as though he cannot place his environment in his still drugged state.

"Hey," I say softly, abandoning my book and turning to face him, unsure if I should touch him or what I need to say to tear him away from the horrors of his mind. "You're okay, you're awake now."

If he hears me he doesn't give any indication, his breathing so quick and unsteady I'm scared he'll knock himself out from hyperventilating.

"It's okay, it was a dream," I tell him. I place my hand apprehensively on his chest, feeling his heart slam against the cage of ribs below my touch. "You're awake now."

His head turns slightly towards me, but he's still panicking, his hand gripping my thigh hard enough hard with nails he hadn't meant to let grow out for the past couple weeks that I have to make a conscious effort to not whine in pain.

He's saying something, quiet and mixing with his irregular breathing as his other hand grabs my hand upon his chest, pressing it tightly against him. But I can't make it out, I can only hear fragments of 'sorry' and 'take.' And the words only blur more as he starts sobbing beside me, the noises he makes terrifying as he struggles for air.

"Let's sit up. Come on, let's sit up," I say. I'm close to panic myself, trying to find his shoulders to pull him up in fear of him choking in such a state. But his hand is too tight around mine, and trying to take it away seems to only cause further distress, his teeth gritting and nostrils flailing as he tries to breathe in as much air as possible. I manage to get one arm under his shoulders, wrapping it around his body and pulling us both up. The shift of his body seems to make something click, his hand suddenly releasing my thigh as he gasps once more, eyes seeming to show recognition of something.

"You're home. We're in our room, Abby is down the hall," I tell him.

"They'll come here, they knew where we live," he says in a rapid but finally coherent voice.

"Who?" I ask. He's scaring me, making me want to join him in my own hysteria. But I don't show it, the pain throbbing in my leg giving me a point of focus to keep my voice even. "No one's coming."

"My aunt- she- they-"

"She's not coming over, no one's coming to take Abby," I tell him, stroking him arm and trying to shift my body to face his. "Everyone's home and safe. I won't let anyone go."

This seems to hit him, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He looks at my face, staring and trying to focus on me.

"I won't let anyone go anywhere," I repeat gently. His shoulders relax, his body leaning towards mine.

"You don't have to worry," I tell him. "I'm here."

His head lands on my shoulder, hand still pressing mine tight against his chest as his arm finds my waist, body wracking with sobs.

"It's okay. Slow your breathing," I say softly, my hand finding his hair and holding him close against me. "Focus on me and slow your breathing."

He's trying, I can tell by the way he gasps against my chest in even tempo that he's trying to regain his breath. His skin is hot against mine, body wet with sweat. Maybe I should get this shirt off of him, take away the sticking cotton and allow his skin to feel the cool morning air against it to prevent overstimulation. Or maybe the sudden change would throw him into more distress. I don't know what to do, what to offer.

"Do you want me to distract you?" I ask. At this he lifts his head slightly, a small 'what?' Asking for me to repeat the question. "Do you want me to distract you?" I repeat, anxious I've said something wrong.

He seems to think for a moment, his heart still beating at a concerning rate.

"How long have you been reading?" He finally asks, eyeing the book I'd practically thrown to the edge of the bed in my panic.

"A few hours," I say. "Started reading when you went to sleep."

He nods, going silent once more for a few more minutes. I focus on his hair, how some curls wrap perfectly around my fingertips, how soft his hair is even though he doesn't take proper care of it.

"Is it any good?" He asks softly, his mouth against my neck as he tries to relax.

Okay, talk about the book. Book with dead parents. Ah, fuck.

"Not... particularly," I admit. "The first one was better."

"Yeah?" Mike asks. "How so?"

Well, Mike. This is a V.C. Andrews novel. So there's an unsettling amount of incest that serves a horrifying point that I don't think you wanna hear about right now because that's gonna take several hours for me to explain. I wish you'd asked sooner.

"...questionable decisions," I decide is how I'll phrase it.

"Sounds like me," he mutters against my skin.

"I promise you it isn't," I mutter back, trying to think of what to say next.

Mike doesn't say anything, still breathing hard against my skin but finally gaining a steady rhythm. His body shakes less, my fingers gently combing through his hair as I finally speak again.

"It's something you'd laugh at if you felt better," I feel stupid, useless as I try to bring him back to me. But it seems to work, his shaking decreasing as he focuses on my words. "The main character is... dramatic, and... passionate."

I feel his smile against my skin, his fingers stroking my waist. "Oh?" He asks.

"Mm-hmm," I say. He hums, waiting for me to continue. And I'm not sure if I should.

"What's the plot?" He asks. Not something you should hear in your state, Michael. Lots of people die.

"It's about..."

Fucking half the town out of spite.

"...family."

That's one way to put it.

"And... doing what's right."

By burning a house down.

"And taking care of those you love."

Well, at least that point is accurate.

He seems content with this, pulling me down onto the bed once more and keeping me close.

"Are you okay?" I ask him carefully.

"I will be," he says softly. "Thank you. For caring."

"Of course I care," I say with a small laugh of nervous relief. "I love you."

Oh.

Oh motherfucker, no.

"What?" Mike asks in a small voice, his body going still, mine going stiff.

Goddammit.

We've been together for about a year. And this is a normal point to finally say the words to each other, a sweet moment of realization and commitment that I'd been wanting to have. And I'd been trying to find the right moment, wanting to say it while he serves pancakes in the morning that he douses in syrup because he hates them dry. To say it when he pulls me close at night, taking a deep breath as he smells my hair. When he falls asleep on the couch or with his head on my lap. And maybe he's wanted to say it too, the way his eyes linger on me when I spin around the room with his sister, or when I fix her hair before walking her out the door, or when I slip out said door to return to my own home only to find myself back here the next day anyways, unable to stay away.

But this is the wrong moment. A moment of fear and terror and I have been selfish enough to dare utter such words that he may not even reciprocate while he's in such a vulnerable state. Shit.

"What did you say?" Mike asks, pulling away to look into my face, suddenly awake and clear of any fog that had been torturing him.

I can't speak. I can't tell him. What if he doesn't feel the same way? Or worse, what if he says it back in a desperation for approval after such pressure has been placed upon him to respond. Or what if he convinces himself he feels the same way only because I do?

"I- Shouldn't-" My head is shaking, eyes wide in worry as I try to think of a response.

"Shouldn't?" He says in the most heartbreaking voice.

"No!" This is all wrong! It all sounds wrong.

"Oh," he says quietly, eyes casted downwards.

"No, wait a minute. This is wrong-" I stutter, my hands shaking slightly.

"I heard you the first time," He says flatly, eyes avoiding mine.

"I'm sorry," I blurt out. "I didn't mean to say anything."

"Then stop saying things," He says sharply, pulling away and turning to face the room.

"I'm not- I can't-" One of the ways Mike and I understand each other is by the way vulnerability makes us choke, gagging on sincere words for fear of rejection and becoming fools. And this time is one of them, even if I'm fighting against it. The silence is too long as I choke on my own tongue.

"It's fine," he says. He stands from the bed, not looking back at me. "I'm gonna take a shower."

I open my mouth to speak, my mind urging me to extend my hand in explanation. But he walks quickly, opening and shutting the door before I can even begin to put the words together in my mind. And I'm alone. With no one but my book to offer comfort.

I try to read. Try to focus on Cathy's piss poor plan that ends with her toes broken because of her terrible husband that she married to avoid her adoptive father. (Don't ask.) But all I can think about is what I should have said. And what Mike must be thinking. Of course he misunderstood me, his mind still racing from adrenaline and nightmares of losing his sister, addled by his sleep medication that would still be in effect. Vulnerable situations are already tricky with Mike, who'd lost his family young and had been forced to create his own stability with no comfort or care returned to him until the past few years when he finally began to create a new inner circle. It was understandable that he was gun shy around this sort of topic. And his already darkened mind earlier today? What a horrible day for a moment like this.

It feels like an eternity, but it must have only been about half an hour when Mike comes racing back into the room. Wet, towel crudely wrapped around his waist and holding up his hand as he rushed towards the bed.

"There's blood on here," he said. "Who's is it?"

I squint as I try to look, reaching out for his hand. He offers it quickly, and at the sight I remember. My thigh. Earlier when he'd gripped it so hard, nails digging in. I can see the blood underneath his nails, dark and most likely having just been noticed by him.

"Earlier when you were upset you grabbed my thigh," I say. Within seconds he's on the bed, ripping the sheet off of me and dripping water all over the place. It's not exactly a pretty sight, cuts from where his nails had dragged and sunk into me. His eyes go wide, cheeks turning pink with shame.

"Jesus," he says. "I didn't mean to."

"I know, you were scared," I say. "Don't worry about it."

"Let me clean this," he says, moving to stand from the bed.

"Mike, we need to talk," I say, grabbing his wrist. He doesn't stop, trying to pull his arm free.

"After I clean this."

"No, now," I say. My voice sounds so much sharper than it should in a situation like this, like a command rather than a request. But he finally stops his rush, his eyes meeting mine as he stands still, gripping the towel around his waist as he contemplates.

"I left the water running," he finally says.

"Clean me in there," I offer thoughtlessly. He raises an eyebrow at me but doesn't question it, tugging me up by my hand and not letting go as we walk to the bathroom in silence.

The water stings on my cuts as Mike kneels in front of me, his body between my slightly parted legs as his hands wash me carefully, lathering soap and working at my thigh with careful concentration. 'It's been ten minutes. Say something, dumbass,' I think to myself.

"I love you," Mike blurts out suddenly. His hands don't rubbing soap onto my thigh, and his eyes don't meet mine. "And you don't have to feel the same way, but you should know that I do."

There's another long moment of silence, dread filling my chest.

"Why are you saying this?" I finally ask. He looks up at me with an unintentional glare.

"What?" He asks sharply.

"Are you saying this for me or for you?" I ask. His brows furrow.

"I don't know what you mean," he says.

"Earlier I said I love you and that was a mistake-"

"You don't need to remind me."

"No, my timing was a mistake. You were vulnerable," I say quickly, sliding quickly down the shower wall to join him on the floor of the bathtub. "Are you saying this because I said it or because you mean it?"

Realization seems to finally sink through, Mike blinking at me slowly.

"So, you love me?"

"I'm sorry that I was an idiot earlier-"

"But you love me?"

"I've been trying to say it for months, but I couldn't-"

Mike's kiss is hard and clumsy, teeth clicking together and making us both draw away in a fit of stupid, teenage like giggles from the way he'd tried to be romantic and jump on me, my face now covered in the orange scented soap from his hands.

"You need to lead with that next time," he says, laughing and covering my face in quick kisses without care that he's smearing the soap onto his face too. "You had me scripting our conversations for the next month in here."

"I was trying. You know I can't- that-" I can hardly respond between his kisses, tasting awful but so sweet I can't help but want more.

"I love you," he says. Then he says it again, and again. Like a dam has been broken and he can't stop the river spilling forth. "I love you."

"I love you too," I finally say, relieved and melting into his touch under the warm stream that he drags me under, holding me close to his body.

Later, as we lay in bed, I finally tell him the real plot of my book, to which he says "I take it back, get out," before dragging me under the covers to repeat his devotion again and again until we can't say it anymore. Coherently, that is.

¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

I'm gonna be fr, I haven't been happy with my writing lately and that's mostly due to my packed schedule. This is a draft I've been working on in bits and pieces for the last couple weeks when I've had a spare moment at work, and honestly will probably regurgitate at some point in the future when I have the time and energy to get more detailed with this concept in a more detailed fic. But for right now, I did want to put this out as a drabble. So, I hope you enjoyed it, and I promise I'll try to get some more properly fleshed out content out soon for y'all <3

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 @jhutchissupercool . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

•▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

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pinkeoni · 1 year

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This moment keeps me up at night—

because it doesn’t align with what we’re being told the entire season.

The point that they tell us explicitly in the dialogue in season one is that Joyce was right about everything.

She wasn’t hallucinating, she wasn’t out of her mind, she was right.

So then, if Joyce was right about everything, if she wasn’t just hallucinating Will in a bout of hysteria, why then choose to show us a clear example where she is hallucinating Will?

Unless she wasn’t.

I will admit that there is a chance that this is just a dream or a hallucination. Joyce is very sleep deprived and was just told that her son had died. I wouldn’t put it past her to have dream visions of her newly dead son. The scene is also presented as if this is the case, with Joyce shown sleeping before seeing Will and then sharply waking up after the fact.

So okay, case closed, maybe it’s looking like this really is just a dream situation after all 😂 but I wanna just entertain the harmless idea that maybe the audience is being mislead with the dream allegations.

So the scene above actually happens right after we get the first confirmation that Will is still alive, when El is able to find him singing over the radio.

So we learn that Will is still alive at the top of the episode, the title sequence plays, and then we get a scene where Will appears right in front of Joyce. The sequence of events should be enough to at least raise an eyebrow.

At the end of the episode, Joyce recieves the verification for herself when Will is able to make contact with her. I want to point out that Will is able to do so while screaming for his mom, exactly the same thing that “dream” Will was doing.

So what do I think? That Will was actually physically in the Rightside Up? That he some how got through and then decided to go back in?

Well, no, not exactly, but he could have been doing some form of shadow walking— or his consciousness travelling to the other plane.

Of course since I’m a Will has powers truther I think that his powers are at play here. Shadow walking is brought up by Dustin in the subsequent episode—

And we see this very type of thing in season two with Will’s true sight.

Was Will just seeing into the Upside Down? Or was there a projection of himself that was physically in the UD? I’m going to say in the latter option, considering that the Mind Flayer was able to physically enter Will’s body during one of these true sight episodes.

Bringing it back to the scene at the very beginning of the post, I’d like to propose that this is what Will was doing, using his powers to shadow walk into the RU from the UD.

I don’t think Will waa be aware that he was using his powers. He was thrown into a high stakes situation, scared, and desperately wanted to get back to his mom and his powers were running amuck without him consciously knowing. This instance of him shadow walking to reach his mom is similar to what happens with the lights, his powers are activating as a way to reach his mom. It’s also implicated through dialogue that the thing with the lights is because of Will.

It would make total sense for his powers to activate in this way, even if he wasn’t conscious it was powers, based on how we know powers work in the show. It’s when El remembers the strong love that her mother feels for her that she is able to unlock her ability to open gates, a unique power that El herself probably didn’t even know she had.

So all of this being said, while made to be believable that Joyce was just dreaming, there’s still enough evidence to suggest that this image of Will was a manifestation of his powers.

Think about it this way, if you wanted Will having powers to be a twist, then you would want to write it in a way where the hints are all there, but there’s enough room to believe that the opposite is also true, so you aren’t playing all of your cards all at once. If Joyce was undoubtedly awake and seeing a vision of Will, that would be way too obvious right off the bat.

#will byers #will byers has powers #el hopper #terry ives #joyce byers #stranger things #stranger things theory #my theory #byler #<- target audience

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dragon-kazansky · 6 months

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Midnight meeting

Astarion x Reader/Tav (GN)

Spoilers for the end of the game

It's done. The tadpoles are gone and all that's left is the future waiting for you to start a new chapter of your life. There's one person you're not going to leave behind, however.

Warnings: None really. Fluff. Astarion being Astarion. Not ascended. My game glitches at the end and I couldn't see the scene with Astarion, just Gale and Shadowheart T-posing while the dialogue popped up. So I wrote this.

♡♡♡

The sun had set on, what you could only describe as, a terribly busy day. The fate of everyone and everything relied on you and your friends taking down an Elderbrain.

If someone had told you a few years prior this is what your life would become, you wouldn't have believed them. Yet, you wouldn't change a single thing about it. Any of it.

There have been good times and bad times. It had been a struggle. There were nights where you lay there wondering if that night would be your last. There was also Astarion.

Your darling Astarion.

When the time came for him to make a difficult decision, you had been there to help make the choice. You had grown so close to the vampire, he opened his heart to you. A relationship blossomed unexpectedly. At first you were his entertainment, his guarantee of safety. Then he fell for you for real and he wasn't sure what to do about it.

One night he made up his mind. He liked you. A lot. You were sticking by his side through everything and he wanted more of that. You were so patient. So understanding. So kind. He didn't think he deserved any of it, but he was certainly glad to recieve it all.

You had become his person.

However, now that everything is right in the world again, the tadpole gone and people can go back to living their lives, Astarion can't help feeling guilty.

You had talked him down from ascension, which he was glad for, but also sad about because he could.no longer walk in the sun. He missed the days of waking up and seeing the sun shining on your beautiful face. He missed how it's warmth felt on his skin. He missed how happy you looked during the day.

Here you were, just past midnight, sitting by a fire keeping him company. He is watching you quietly. The glow of the moon filters in from a window. You look beautiful. Yet, his heart his heavy. He feels guilty.

You can feel his eyes on you. You lift your gaze. Those stunning red eyes are gazing at you, but you can tell he is lost in thought. You frown softly.

"Astarion?"

He doesn't move. Whatever is on his mind has really taking him away. Slowly, you reach out. Your hand finds his and your fingers curl around his pale skin. A slight jolt rocks through his body and he blinks. His gaze is on you and he is seeing you again.

"Apologies." His voice is soft. Distant.

"Are you alright?" You ask softly.

"Fine." Astarion turns his head back to the fire, but you can see the way he sulks. You move closer to him, shuffling into his side. Your arms wrap around him in a gentle embrace. You feel the way he craves your touch.

"Talk to me, Astarion. What's on your mind?"

He is silent for a few moments, but when he speaks his voice is soft and sad. "Are you happy?"

You look at him in disbelief. "Is that a real question?"

He nods.

You can't believe he ever felt the need to ask something life that. You lift a hand to his cheek and caress his cold skin. "I'm happier than I have ever been."

"What I mean is... are you happy with me? Staying with me is... is to be stuck in the shadows with me. You have no reason to deprive yourself of the joys of life to stay by my side. I... won't ask that of you."

"Astarion, you're not depriving me of anything. I love you. I will stand by your side because that's what I want. I won't ever leave you by yourself in the shadows."

Astarion's eyes glisten. He looks like he wants to cry. You stroke his cheek with your thumb softly.

"Do you hear me?" You ask softly. "I'm her because I want to be here. I love you more than anything. I am not about to abandon you after everything."

Astarion can't help himself. His arms wrap around you and he pulls you into his chest. He holds you tight and buries his face into your shoulder.

"Gods, I don't deserve you."

You smile.

"I'm exactly what you deserve."

The two of you sit like that for a while. Astarion has never been more grateful for anything. Meeting you, letting you talk him down from ultimate power, and for you chasing him into the shadows when it was all over.

You're his most precious gift, and he will never forget that.

#astarion x reader #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3

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starry-bi-sky · 2 months

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more cfau miscellaneous things because Childhood Friends Danny and Jason have my head and heart always and I need to finish rewriting chapter two dammit (and redo the half-finished chapter 4 because its just Not The Vibes). i'm almost through I need to get through the graveyard scene. (i just stubbornly refuse to have it be shorter than the original chapter and thats the little death. that is the mind killer.)

Danny and jason’s ghost forms both smell faintly like burnt flesh and cigarettes. However, Jason has a more smokey smell while Danny’s smells almost,,, electrical? In a sense? Like he just straight up smells like burnt flesh and sulphur while Jason smells like someone put him in a smoker first.

It’s very much an unpleasant smell but Danny finds an odd comfort in it just as much as he finds a comfort in the smell of nicotine.

(Jason post-revival smells burnt flesh once and is immediately offput by the fact that it brings him an instinctive comfort. He doesn’t realize its because it reminds him of Danny, and is uncomfortable by it.)

In an au of an au, Danny’s altercation with Rath ends with Rath regaining enough of his sanity to snap out of the grieving state and ends with him breaking down. Instead of being souped and imprisoned, Rath, who is permanently 14, decides to Move On into the unknown. He’s exhausted, heartbroken, and tired.

(Is this influenced heavily by the ParaNorman scene where he talks to Agatha and helps her move on? Yes. But it doesn’t fit with the Original Storyline so im shoving it into an Au of an Au.)

Rath tells Danny that Jason lied to them (which he genuinely believes), and that he’s tired of waiting/looking for him/grieving. Jason is gone. He isn’t coming back, he abandoned them. And he wants his mom and dad, and his sister, and his friends. And he’s ready to join them.

He leads Danny out to Gotham, which other than Amity Park might’ve been the only city left untouched due to Rath’s own mental block on the place. They go out to the park he and Jason used to frequent or up to one of crime alley’s rooftops, and there Rath lies down and goes to sleep. Only to never wake up again, materializing into nothing as his soul moves on.

Before Rath leaves, he forces Danny to promise him that he’ll only wait for Jason for ten years. After that if he doesn’t find him, or if Jason doesn’t show, then Danny has to move on. Whether that be like how Rath does, or if its inly mentally/emotionally, doesn’t matter. He has to move on. Don’t wait for him. Don’t waste his time any more.

(“Oh, and if you find him, kick his ass for me.”)

Danny reluctantly agrees, and Rath lies down. Danny sings to him as he falls asleep.

(Angsty points if the vigilantes including Red Hood caught wind of their presence and were silently watching from the shadows. Rath might know they’re there, but Danny’s too focused on Rath to notice.)

(If only so that Red Hood realizes that this is what happened to Danny, and that Danny is gone before he can make things right. The tragedy, folks. The angst. The initial realization that Danny was Rath, and then also that Danny was dead and has been dead for years, and that before he moved on, he moved on believing that Jason abandoned him.)

(like i said it doesn't fit in the original timeline/storyline hence why its an au of an au and isn't nearly a fleshed out, but i was largely just focusing on the tragedy of Rath moving on and Jason being alive to see it and realize just who Rath is.)

Just like how the Lazarus pits shot Jason's twiggy 4'6-5'4 (depending on what you find) feet tall and 86lb ass up like a tree an essentially fixed his malnutrition, the portal did the same thing for Danny.

(granted i forgot about malnutrition and danny's likely stunted growth at first -- his family lived in crime alley and despite both his parents working, I don't think they had enough food all the time. He probably wasn't as badly malnourished as Jason was, but he wasn't healthy either.)

Granted his ghost in its "natural" state (14) is short, and his growth spurts were slow at first, it did result in him reaching his dad's height. There were points where it just happened overnight, like a baby. He went to bed one night 5’6 and woke up the next day 5’10.

Jazz is shorter than him. Although I have't decided if she's even liminal at all (and if she is, it didn't cure everything because she would have also suffered childhood malnutrition, and since in au canon their parents didn't get their hands on physical ectoplasm until after they got to Amity Park. So the exposure is less.)

Danny's voice absolutely sounds like canon Dan's. It kinda just dropped one day when he was 16-17 and never went back up. Sam and Tucker sometimes ask him to just talk about anything because they find his voice soothing.

I'm not sure yet how Danny would feel about it at first considering Rath, but I imagine that Rath, when he did speak, would have had a quieter and scratchier/weaker voice considering he's spent the last decade shrieking and crying.

(and i suppose technically that shouldn't have any effect on his throat considering he's a ghost and idk if that would actually affect him, but i like the idea so im keeping it)

In the beginning you could hear him from a mile away by the sound of his loud, echoing wails, but ten years later you can only really hear him by the soft, shuddering sobs he makes. Like he's gasping for air that isn't there. The future is full of very quiet survivors.

And it's much easier to speak when you pitch your voice upwards (especially when whispering/speaking quietly) so he might've spoken in a higher, airy pitch in order to be heard. So Danny might actually find a comfort in having a lower voice.

#tw mentions of gore #cw gore #i suppose this counts as gore #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dpxdc crossover #childhood friends au #cfau #really leaning into the idea of rath just being a horror. the horrors! i am delighted in the horrors!#im having fun with it #i swear to god turning 19 turned a switch on in my brain because i am much more comfortable with gore and heavy injury now than i was l #literally a year ago. the urge to write about some of danny's most horrific injuries in his fights is STRONG #like the hORRORS folks. *th horrors*. i dont think i'll ever write a dissection fic because that icks me out but the idea that danny's had #to stitch up his own throat because it got slit in a fight nd he cant shift back to human until he's done because his ghost will survive bu #his body wont #the idea that he's been impaled multiple times before and it hurts each fucking time but he still gets up and hurls the hurt right back in #equal measure. because that's how you wanna play? okay. lets play. he's 14 and his best friend is dead. he can play.#and the idea that all ghosts have 'corpse' forms where their ghosts look exactly like how they died. and danny is utterly unrecognizable #jazz being liminal or not just isnt important to me because she's barely gonna show up in the story anyways #same reason why i hardly use the headcanon that ellie becomes danny's daughter because what use is she to me like that? she'll hardly have #an impact on the story and i refuse to treat characters like props. if they can't help progress the story then they aren't included

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labyrinthofsphinx · 20 days

Text

Behold, terrible people and the muffin they stole!

A scene from my drabble below. Wanted to do something special so a bit of art to go with. As always, let me know your thoughts, guys!

Statistical Outliers

“So, I’m your man, huh?”

“You know, it’s a fucking shame you just got that new head of yours because if you say that one more fucking time, I will bash it in again.”

The day hadn’t exactly gone as planned, but he won’t complain about the ending, at least. After calming both Valentino and Velvette down, enough that a manhunt for the imagined Alastor shadow wasn’t going to sound off anytime soon, he had to compensate them for…well, their time, he’d suppose. He didn’t expect that kind of reaction, the reactionary viciousness. Which also meant compensation had to be just as well.

Vel was easy to fix. He just gave her his credit card. Go nuts with it.

Val was harder to please, but less painful to his wallet. He still took him out, rented out the whole nightclub for just him and his groupies. They drank like fish and spent a terribly long time in the club’s backrooms. Val, still reeling from the damage Vox did to him just the night before, was absolutely ravaged by days end.

Not that the day ended when they got back, mind you. Hence the teasing.

“No need to be so hostile, Val. I’m just saying-”

“Yeah? Well, now you need to shut up.”

He was on the lounge, trying to pretend like he wasn’t showing off his legs again. As if they weren’t already covered top to bottom in marks, bites, and scratches. He stretched out, arms gliding along his hips, toying with the belt of yet another bathrobe that Vox will need to replace. The man was insatiable, he’ll give him that.

“Hmm.” He brought his head forward, right next to Val’s antenna. They were sensitive, much more than you’d expect. The slight vibrations of a voice sent them twitching. The static from a TV had them spiraling. Vox teased a breath by them. “Sure, Val. Whatever you want, today.”

He didn’t really want him to shut up. It was one of his favorite things about Vox, he’s pretty sure. Valentino was a man of ego, and he loved nothing more than having it stroked in every possible, conceivable way. He’s never said as much, but he’s pretty sure that’s why he always petitions him in the monitor room. There’s just something appealing to the man about having eyes watch them from everywhere, of hearing praise from everywhere. Especially if it was Vox’s.

He shivered when Vox ever so gently ran his fingers through with his antenna. Had he not been spent from before, Vox’s is pretty sure Val would’ve leapt up and dragged Vox to the floor with him.

“What I want would involve enough screaming to wake the damn ring.” He huffed.

“Oh, you want to scream now?” Vox teased. “I can help with that.”

“Vox, you talk too much.” He said, as if he wasn’t vibrating from the idea.

“That’s what they tell me.” He joked, pulling away enough to make Valentino miss his presence by his side.

It was always like this, this tugging and pulling. Some days, Val would want nothing more than Vox. Other days, well, Vox loses his face. One could never quite tell where the dice were going to land, but he’d be a liar to say that there wasn’t something he loved about it, in a sick sense of the word. Sure, he never wanted to get his head rearranged, but Val being in a violent mood could be fun, has been fun in the past.

It was just a whole lot less fun when he ended up with the target on his head. Honestly, he can’t even remember when that started to happen, only that he just had to account for it in the schedule and budget.

But at least it was still Vox. His anger and desire was still centered on Vox.

Until Angel Dust happened.

Cut it out, Vox. Don’t think of him right now. That line of thinking never goes anywhere good. Besides, he was still on camera! Can’t be frowning in the middle of the scene, now can we?

His hands quickly wrapped around Val’s sides. Before he had time to react, he’d already pulled him up in his arms. Val’s legs hitched at Vox’s waist, and his arms tugged across his shoulders and face.

That was another thing Val loved, being manhandled. Being eleven feet tall apparently gives people the wrong impression, but Vox knew better. Val was a moth, a fuzzy casing of exoskeleton covering nothing but softness underneath. He seemed strong because he was big, and because some of that frame gave him power to work with. But it was nothing compared to the complex dance of flesh, bone, and machinery. He’s not as tall, obviously, but there was a reason Val always chose to aim for his face or the delicate parts still left on his skin. If he bit too far, or aimed just a little wrong, Val could accidentally end up damn near breaking his own hand.

Machines didn’t have the same rules for bodies that living things do. Both were complicated and everything inside served a function for higher operations, but machines were made to carry out everything at a hundred percent of their ability. They do what they’re programed to, nothing more and nothing less. Organic machinery was built for the opposite, the gradients and the fine tuning. One was determination made from metal and iron, and the other was calculation on the scale of nerves and cells. And Vox was a mismatched mess stuck between the two.

That meant that when he did decide to pull, there was little Val could do but ride out the wave. Not that this wasn’t already what he had in mind, given his poison nearly dripping onto Vox’s face.

“Oh, I should’ve just gone to that shitty hotel and brought you back Alastor’s head.” Val purred. “I can’t imagine what you’d do then.”

While in theory that was incredibly hot, Vox wasn’t going to be giving him any ideas. Especially since this is Val, and he might think his stupid theory is a good idea later.

“Don’t tell me your thinking of leaving now?” Vox’s voice added a bit of television fading, just as he brought a finger to tease the length of Val’s spine.

“Oh, not on your life.”

“Good.”

One last steamy session on the longue later and a cleanup in the bath that also might’ve gotten a little steamy, and Vox had them both tucked into his bed. He never smoked Val’s cigarettes, even after they were done. Sure, it might not have the same effect on him as it does others, screen head and all that, but something in the chemicals brings his thoughts around to the worst. Maybe Val smoked too much before making out, because Vox’s head was dragging him around even without the visible smoke.

Alastor wasn’t just a Vox problem. Val probably knew that better than Vel, but she’s been around long enough to know. If the king falls, the game is over, isn’t it? Is that the only reason they came charging in today? Maybe. And why would he expect something else? He shouldn’t.

Every machine had a use, a function. Vox keeps the train moving. Vox keeps the Vees at the top. Vox keeps all of Hell focused on them, loving them.

But to his fellow Vees? Vox solves problems. That’s his function.

He admits there’s attachment there but, well, let’s just say he’s never under the assumption that the attachment wasn’t built from necessity. Like a certain radio freak mentioned once, keep only the necessities, everything else is a potential liability.

But then there’s days like today. When something bad almost happened, or he thought it would, and he was a little surprised they showed up. I mean, obviously they would. As he said, he was required for things to work. The body didn’t function without a brain.

That didn’t stop his replay on Val’s and Vel’s words, ‘my man’ and ‘my boys’ respectively. He liked the sound of that.

Then, of course, there was the kid. He literally clawed his way up most of the levels of Vee tower to make sure he was alive. Not to mention that this is literally like the second time he’s promised to maim the kid and he still insists that they’re friends. If it wasn’t for the fact that he tested what the kid said about his suggestions not working before Vel took him to the spa, Vox would be questioning if he accidentally hypnotized the kid into liking him. Because none of that is normal. Then again, who the hell is normal down here?

The more he thinks on it, what was the kid’s plan? What if Alastor had been in the room? What if they were fighting? What if Vox was losing? Not that he would, because he wouldn’t be, but hypothetically. What would he do then?

He wasn’t good in a fight, that much was clear. He didn’t have powers, and certainly nothing that would stand up eldritch shadow demons…

Wait, did he just assume the kid would be on his side? Why did his calcs jump to that?

Feedback on his systems told him exactly why, playing back footage from the past several days. Simply, because Vox was his friend, and it was obvious now that there was little he wouldn’t do for his friends.

Oh, fucking damn it. The kid latched on like tumor to the brain.

He liked that kid, selfishly and stupidly attached to him.

He was trying hard not to smile, but it’s difficult to force a face without muscles to do much of anything, especially when his program literally pours his thoughts into expression. And it was hard to be in a bad mood right now.

‘My man’. ‘My boys’. ‘My friend’.

“Voxxy, your screen is pink.”

“Shut up, Val.”

“Oh, it’s practically maroon now.”

“Shut the fuck up, Val!”

Like adding gasoline to flame, the bedroom door was flung open. Distracted as he’d been, he failed to notice that Vel had come back from the spa and already jumped into pajamas. She kicked open the door, and waltzed in like she owned the place. In her arms, the kid dangled like a stuffed animal fresh out the dryer.

“I’m assuming since you guys are talking in full sentences that you’re done now?” Vel said. For once, her phone was tucked away, probably in a pocket in her lounge shorts.

“‘Till the morning, I suppose. It’s the best way to start mornings.” Val answered for them, a finger teasing the side of Vox’s head.

The kid’s expression was blank, like he was staring into a void. He was clean at least.

“What happened to you?” Vox asked.

“We went to the spa.” Mimicking Val, Velvette answered for the two of them. “I got everything done, including a two hour massage. The masseur was some centipede guy, thousand arms and all. You really need steal that guy, Vee. My back feels great.”

He kept looking at the kid, waiting for his answer. When he finally decided that he could answer with the other two around, he spoke like he was experiencing a flashback to a war.

“I now know what it’s like to be play-doh.”

Despite himself, Vox tossed his head back, rolling.

“Anyways,” Vel readjusted the kid in her arms and started walking over to the bed. “you two are dressed, yeah? Because this is an invasion.”

Well, Val was as dressed as Val ever is, kept decent just barely by the length of Vox’s robes. He really needed to start ordering them five sizes too tall at this point. As for himself, he had the decency to swap into regular pajamas…just in case he and kid couldn’t sleep and wanted to give Asteroids another go.

Not that Velvette waited for an answer. The bed was big, obviously. It had to be to hold Val. Save for when he unfolds his wings, the bed could hold an ungodly amount of people. Honestly, it was just cheaper to buy two of the same size bed when he was ordering Val’s. That’s the only reason it was so stupidly big. Vox didn’t share the bed often enough to warrant it, unlike Val.

Velvette climbed over him, landing just beneath his right arm and tucking herself against his chest. In doing so, she pulled off the blanket. Probably a smart decision because of how hot Vox was to sleep against. He was unofficially Velvette’s favorite that-time-of-the-month pillow. Val, to his left, just wrapped his arms around Vox’s legs and his left arm, as per always.

The kid was crushed in the space between Vel’s body and his own. With all that fur, he could imagine it was going to get very hot, very quickly there. Using the one arm that hadn’t been abducted yet, he punched the pillow beside his head. Then, he snuck down, plucked the kid up, and put him on it.

He was rewarded by an honest smile. In hell, that was a pretty rare gift.

Then, the little body wrapped around that arm, a big fluffy tail curling down and tickling his sides. Holy shit, he was small. The kid was curled almost entirely into the palm of his hand.

Before he even knew it, he was surrounded. Trapped, you might even say, by a tangled mess of bodies all fighting for a bit of his body heat.

Oh, there were worse ways to end the evening. Barring something amazing happening, like Alastor keeling over dead or Lucifer handing over his crown, this might just be as good as it gets.

You know, fuck that heaven bullshit. This was heaven.

“’Night, Vee.” Velvette mumbled, half asleep.

“Night, guys.”

He didn’t get to sleep right away. He stayed awake long enough to hear the little noises, an offkey song of sleep. Val squeaked in his sleep, randomly. His wings would flutter together sometimes, but the fuzz on the scales kept it from sounding much more than the sound of skin touching skin. Vel talks in her sleep, sort of. She mumbles more than anything. It was never enough to make a sentence out of, in fact it sounded a bit like baby babble. Occasionally, her phone would ping, but he was so used to the sound now that it was basically a backtrack to his day.

The kid was the newest sound. He knew now that foxes could, apparently, squeak. But, as Vox was sitting there and gingerly gliding his fingers through freshly cleaned fur, he heard a different sound.

They purr? Why do they purr?

Unconsciously, the kid snuggled his face into Vox’s hand, the ridiculously soft coat almost swallowing up his digits.

Oh, this was all too cute. This was all too fucking much for today. Cuteness aggression hit him like a truck again, and it was a struggle against every instinct in his body not to move, for fear of ruining it all by waking one of them up.

Then, he caught on something.

The collar that Velvette had put on the kid on day one was snug tight against his throat. Drowned out by his fur, Vox had almost forgotten about it. It felt so odd, out of place. The cold metal stuck flat to his skin, with only the little charm hanging a little more comfortably away.

He tugged a little, just enough to see it better.

The bright blue ‘V’ looked almost neon in the dark, surrounded by that deep red heart. It really did look like a dog collar like this, didn’t it?

Dehumanizing something was easy here. No one even looked human anymore. Very few acted human even when they were alive.

A few days ago, he didn’t give it a second thought. He couldn’t have cared less. Now though?

Carefully, he undid the little magnetic hook in the back. Unlike a normal collar, this one was designed to never come off, not unless one of the three of them did it. The key was a simple, a contrary magnetic pull that would activate the lock, but too strong or too weak of a pull would just break it and cause it to get stuck. Vel probably had the actual key in her room, but it didn’t take much of Vox’s power to undo a little magnetic flux.

He twirled it around the kid’s wrist instead, like a bracelet, not unlike the ones Velvette always wears anyways. As the clasp closed, his little paw wrapped around his palm, bringing it back up to his face and cradling it like a pillow.

“Night, Drift.” Vox said, before letting the night and its new symphony drag him off someplace nice.

That might’ve been the best sleep of his life.

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6/ Part 7/ Part 8/ Part 9/ Part 10/ Part 11

#hazbin hotel #art #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel art #hazbin vox #vox #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel the vees #the vees #staticmoth #voxval #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fic #drabble #They are terrible people #But they are very fun to write and draw

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unforgivenn · 27 days

Text

SHACKLED BY ROYALTY

#1 :THE BEAST'S PET

Next/Masterlist

CW: abduction, captivity, slight whump, coercion, power dynamics, pet whump, drugging, defiant whumpee, swearing, dominant whumper, slavery

Noah woke to the jolt of the wagon hitting a rut in the road. Darkness surrounded him and he could only think he was blindfolded. The cloying scent of sweat and fear clinging to the air like a suffocating shroud. Disorient and groggy, he blinked away the remnants of his sleep, his senses gradually coming alive to the harsh reality. He suddenly sat up frantically shaking his head as if the tightened blindfold would somehow magically fall off.

"H-Hey!! Let me out of here!!" His body ached from the unforgiving jostle of the wagon, every bone protesting against the place he was in right now. Chains rattled with each bone-jarring bump in the road, a chilling reminder of the shackles that bound his wrists and ankles, tethering him to a fate he dared not contemplate.

"Where are you taking me?!!" Noah's screams only grew louder when no response was given. His heart beating so fast as if it would jump out of his chest. "ANSWER ME! SOMEONE!" He quietened when he heard a "tch" near him.

A deep, South American accent cut through the darkness like a blade, sending a shiver down Noah's spine. "Didn't expect him to wake up this early. And he's awfully loud," the voice mused, its casual cruelty sending a chill through the air.

Noah's heart pounded in his chest as he felt a rough hand grab his arm, the sting of a needle piercing his skin sending shockwaves of numbness coursing through his veins. Just then he heard whines around him. There were people. More people like him. Gradually, the numbness from the injection site started to spread.

Noah tried his best to speak something. Something that could catch the attention of other people there. He felt confused.

Who were these people? And where the hell were they taking him?

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

Abruptly, the cart lurched to a halt, the sudden cessation of movement sending Noah sprawling against the unforgiving floor. He woke with a small cry of pain, his heart hammering in his chest as he listened, breath held in fearful anticipation.

Footsteps approached, heavy and purposeful, accompanied by the jingle of chains and the murmured voices of unseen captors. Noah's pulse quickened, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach like icy tendrils of dread.

Two muscular arms went under each of Noah's underarms holding him up.

"Where are you taking me?!" he cried out, his voice raw with fear, but his captors remained silent, their faces hidden in the shadows.

One of the guys patted Noah's head leaving him more enraged.

All of a sudden, he was thrown to the ground before he was being manhandled to be in a kneeling position with multiple chains on his neck, ankles and wrists holding him in place allowing his captors to have full control over him.

As the blindfold was ripped away, Noah blinked against the harsh light, his eyes adjusting to the sight of his surroundings. It seemed like some sort of a court room? His mind was still clouded up from the drug that was given to him.

"W-What the fu-" A harsh slap shut him up.

"Shush. The young prince will be here any second" Prince? What the fuck was happening?? He wanted to question more but knew better than that. It felt like a scene right out of Hollywood.

Suddenly, he saw the men around him which he thought were most probably the guards bowed down to a young man. Noah raised his head up as to see who it was before a rough hand in his hair forced his head back down only allowing him to see the man's piercing green eyes. The man whom they called the "young prince" stayed quiet. The tension in the room visibly increased before a deep voice spoke.

"Leave us." The guards were quick to retreat from their position and going out of the court room. Noah was about to get up from his kneeling position before flinching at the harsh voice. "Stay still slave!"

"Slave?!" Noah's voice wavered with disbelief, but the harsh slap that followed left him reeling, his cheek stinging with the sting of humiliation. He heard the man tutting.

"Oh dear" He sighed. "It's going to take a lot of time to break that swearing and defiance from you.. But.."

The man grinned, the smile no other than a vicious beast's. He leaned closer, his teeth barely just grazing the other's ears before he whispered. "Oh how I'll enjoy seeing you squirm and beg me to spare you" Noah's body practically froze, terror filling his eyes.

Desperation clawed at Noah's chest as he dared to question his captor's authority. "W-Who are you...?"

But the prince's response sent a chill through his bones—a predatory grin twisting his lips as he whispered promises of torment and submission.

"I'm Andrey. Son of Viktor Kozlov," the prince declared, his name a whispered curse that echoed in Noah's ears. "You will address me as 'sir'."

Noah's blood ran cold as the weight of his situation settled upon him. This was no mere kidnapping—it was a descent into a nightmare from which there would be no waking.

As the reality of his situation sank in, Noah's world spun on its axis, his mind racing with unanswered questions and unspoken fears. With each passing moment, the weight of his captivity grew heavier, a suffocating shadow looming over him, threatening to consume him whole.

Noah only knew this was going to be one hellish of a ride. And only god knew when it was going to end.

Taglist: @anutz1234 @ash-reh @miireux134 (Let me know if you want to be added <3)

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oshiawaseni · 1 year

Note

My sibling, who is an anime only said they would not be surprised if BKDK became canon considering the depth of their relationship, their interactions, and their character development regarding each other ... despite how Bones added in Izuocha scenes and cut out some critical BKDK moments in most of the seasons so far... And, seeing how one-sided the "love" is between Izuocha, which I believe is deep admiration as of reading the manga- I have to say I agree.

Izuocha, is fine on the surface but is unhealthy. Izuku would not pay attention to Ochaco they he would need to if they were in a relationship. And Ochaco only saw "Hero Deku" rather than all of "Izuku", which would cause her to unknowingly encourage Izuku's reckless self-sacrificial behavior.

BKDK is different because not only they know each other beyond the surface level, but they also have their sights on each other and the mere presence of their partner inspires them to become better and stronger people at heart because they have genuine love for each other...

I honestly do not understand what is in the Dudebros' mind other the fact that they are lacking emotional intelligence and critical thinking... but I will just enjoy what they are missing. (Sorry for rambling...)

Hi anon! Sorry it took me a bit to get back to you (reason in tags). Let me just reply to your ramblings with some ramblings of my own :)

I actually really enjoyed Season 6. The only thing I faulted Bones for, was creating that jarring opening that made out like Ochaco was the hero of the retrieve vigilante Deku mission (which sadly only fueled izuochas more on mhatwt), when it was 1000% Katsuki's doing and there is one panel which proves this beyond a shadow of a doubt.

See this? Who is the one standing in front of Shoto and Tokoyami, addressing the whole class? It's Katsuki! Not Ochaco! She was seated with everyone else. This is why it's so frustrating when they say she was the reason Izuku was brought back to U.A. That arc was all about Katsuki's feelings for Izuku and wanting to return his smile.

He was even so worried he lost sleep over it, wondering where Izuku was, if he was okay… he must have stayed awake in bed, thinking and thinking about Izuku and how he could get him back. Katsuki was used to Izuku being by his side, and it was the first time Izuku had willingly left it. It provided him clarity about how important* Izuku was in his life, which only made him worry even more. (*see also: crucial, vital, imperative, watch me emotionally die slowly inside if you aren't around me anymore.)

Katsuki losing sleep, at a time Izuku was not sleeping was such a symbiotic soul mates power move Hori added in for flavour. I love it SOOO freaking much. There are no lengths this man won't go, to prove how in sync they are with each other, how much they need each other, the empathy they share with each other, even on a completely spiritual level where they share in each other's sufferings, *without even knowing it* such as right here, just like Katsuki wants to share all of Izuku's burdens so that he's not crushed by them.

But with that said, though Bones really dropped the ball on the opening (and 5 previous seasons...*ahem*), there were a lot of curious changes that happened in season 6 that I did love, like Izuku dropping the "tachi" in his sentence which turned his line into "He hurt the person I love…" (instead of people)

and as we saw more of these additional changes Bones made, it got us wondering, did Hori have some regrets with the manga that he was unhappy about and wanted their romance to be more obvious? Was it only natural to get anime viewers up to speed before season 7, because they were going to find out through manga spoilers that Katsuki and Izuku are actually in love? I'd like to think so.

Changes I remember off the top of my head:

Reaching out for little Izuku's hand during Katsuki Bakugou Rising

Katsuki waking up and thinking "Deku…" and remembering his Rising sacrifice and being still hurt from it.

Izuku waiting until he was in Katsuki's arms before he apologised, which made their words of "I'm sorry" and "I know" more intimate and personal to each other. Like Izuku needed Katsuki's forgiveness the most, and Katsuki needed to let Izuku feel that he understands him the most.

Izuku's little "Ka-..." (the English dub did not catch it but I know other dubs did) as he was passing out, which made the entire hug scene feel so much more romantic.

"I'm gonna say your name when I wake up" vs "I'm gonna say your name when I fall asleep." BkDk: Always on each other's minds. All the time.

And one of the most interesting changes of all…

So get this, Ochaco gets a hand hold grab in the opening which canon-wise holds about as much weight as an "illustration" … and in the actual anime content, she grabs his wrist area instead of his hand like in the manga. Making her hand hold IN THE CANON CONTENT so impersonal. Almost as if to make up for the horrible opening they made. Why this was done still remains a mystery to us today… but I hope it's because Horikoshi asked them to make Izuocha stop being seen like a couple, and more like the friends they are.

And then, about the "brothers" "friends" comments antis love to make about bkdk. Well yeah, they're coping. In fact, Hori has shied away from labeling them friends several times when he could have! "Midoriya-kun is our friend" says Iida - with multiple people from the class, including Ochaco, presented in the panel… and Katsuki is nowhere to be found.

Or like when sAFO called Katsuki "Izuku's closest person" (motto mo naka ga ii) where it would have been WAY more natural to call him "shinyu," aka, "best friend." But that's the thing, Hori runs away from calling them friends like it's the plague LMAO

Really makes you wonder… was sAFO (I'd rather just call it AFO at this point because it's his personality being dominant vs Katsuki) alluding to hidden romantic feelings Izuku hides for Katsuki that his secret gaydar quirk picked up? Could be. In a way, at the time it happened, it felt to me like Horikoshi himself was talking to us through him, telling us very explicitly, "You're damn right. They're gay."

Either way, skirting around this label for them is being done on purpose by Hori. Like his hidden way of saying "Yeah they might be acting a bit more like the best friends they were always meant to be as kids, but their feelings for each other are not 'friendly' AT ALL. Because platonic friendship is not where these two are headed." And there are STILL hidden feelings they haven't managed to say to each other yet! The content Horikoshi has been itching to draw for YEARS that he is finally getting to. All that soft bkdk romance we've been waiting for is coming SO SOON!!! and I am HERE for it anon! 🔥

2023 will forever be known as the year of BkDk canon... these are very exciting times. <3

#asks #bkdk canon #kana writes #bakudeku #I had to write this almost completely twice over bc tumblr editor decided to delete my whole post XD fun (and I was so frustrated I'm sorry #this ask was getting a bit long so I will stop here but all your ramblings about bkdk were true anon you got a good understanding of them!#togachaco anon I'll try to briefly answer you soon but look for my togachaco meta it's not that far down on my blog - though...#my feelings are still a bit conflicted now because #I am coming around to the jealousy/envy theory as well so it's anyone's guess however what I will say is that OCHACO HAS REALISED THINGS #and those things WILL be revealed #And it's most definitely not going to be she's got a crush on Izuku #but I will write about what I WANT to see happen soon as a lover of shoujo myself :D (it just might not be what will actually happen...)

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flightyalrighty · 3 months

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IDK if this counts as too spoilery to answer, but do they also use this memory altering to control their hosts? You described Sonic as being stuck in a 'prey animal stuck in a corner' mentality due to his parasite, but is that because she's fucking with his fight-or-flight instinct for the adrenaline or because she's literally gone in and messed with his memory to the point where he genuinely thinks something is out to get him and he's struggling to remember it's not supposed to be like this?

I guess another way to ask is is she just hitting the "Panic right now!!!" button over and over or did she go in a rewire him to the point where he's hitting the button himself? And how much is he able to think for himself right now? (Also that parasite must be in heaven rn. She jumped into Sonic? Adrenaline junky running at the speed of sound Sonic??? She is living the dream and I hate that for him 😭)

Also gonna use this ask to gush about how much I love this comic and concept. It's so well drawn and it feels grounded if that makes any sense. It feels like everyone is acting the way real people would act. I'm actually glad to see you say this is gonna have a bittersweet ending because I genuinely can't see how it could have a perfectly happy one you know? Pop off OP and have fun with this 👏 I'll be here for the years it'll take for this comic and the sequel to be made 👌👌

(Also also can I say the panel that really got me hooked was the one where Shadow was looking at Rouge after taking off the heart monitor? God it felt like it wasn't just him looking at her and then there was the foreboding flatline in the same scene and it's just 💗💗💗💗💗 love that feeling it gave 10/10 would love feeling that horrid sense of dread again)

Okay so first of all can i just say

This is both a very insightful and very nice ask -- Thank you for sending it! Genuinely such a sweet thing to wake up to this morning, and I'm happy to hear you'll be sticking around for more!

And y'know, some years back, when I was still in college, I was told by someone that my art was good but my writing "sucks." While I shouldn't have let that bother me, it's a comment that has haunted me to this day. I'm glad you like my writing, Symbio-Ratio. Makes me believe I've improved since my days of suck-fullness.

My favorite comics tend to be the ones that are, like you said, "grounded," at least in tone. Maybe Spider-Man: Blue and Hellboy rubbed off on me, idk 😜

To answer your question: To a degree, the parasites do use memory altering to control their hosts -- Less to manipulate their emotions and more to ensure they don't believe anything is wrong (and therefore seek help before she's settled in). So she targets memories that are points of major stress for the host and attempts to delete them, since getting a bug inside you would, uh, be a very stressful memory. It's trickier to do on people with PTSD, however.

The parasite does, in fact, hit that button over and over, forcing their host to lose their ability to reason while subjecting them to an overload of panic and anger until they furiously lash out at their "attackers" with a strength they can't normally use under non-panicking circumstances.

And yeah, unfortunately, Sonic is basically the parasite's dream host.

Thank you very much for sending this! :]

#symbio-ratio #asks #long post

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castleclerics · 6 months

Text

ABSOLUTELY INSANE NINA PROJECT PARALLELS FROM FUTURE MAN S2 (2019)

so there i was…. minding my own business watching s2 of a show i watched solely for josh hutcherson. then suddenly… he wakes up out of a simulation in a bathtub.

anyways once he fully awakes he’s greeted by literal female brenner

i don’t even think i have to explain the next screenshots so just look at this shit

she tells him she's from the future and she went back in time because she believes he's the only person with "the skills to save our world" similar to how owens tells el the same thing in 4x03

this part is crazy to me because i already had a theory that if el did the massacre, that her sending one through the gate was something her own mind made up.

anyways so the reason they put him in the simulation was to ask him questions about this guy (its a really long story) but like in the og timeline this doctor creates a cure but it destroys humanity so josh wakes up in another timeline where he didn't save the world, where stu, josh's former coworker, takes place of the og doctor. but it's interesting to think about since brenner was trying to have el find henry all this time and what if he wanted to see what questions her brain could answer about him to collect info on him or something??

el saying to brenner "i came here to try and understand who i was." LIKEEE

he asks if he says no to the simulation process then what would happen so she tells him they'll wipe his memory and "the only side-effect would be the lingering sensation like something was off. it would just be gnawing at you never more than a shadow." which reminds me of el laying in bed and getting flashes of the massacre in 4x03.

anyways onto the twin/clone stuff !!!!!!

he escapes into the desert after this so og josh doesn't end up getting killed. so basically they clone josh to see which version of him will be the correct one powerful enough to take down stu. also og josh ends up stumbling into a room of all of his dead clones :)

AHEMMM el commiting the massacre........ (for backstory in s1 he blew up a building to save the world so it was for good) and brenner recreating henry over and over…..

also just look at all the screenshots it literally looks like it was filmed where s4 nina scenes were filmed...

btw i'm still making a masterpost thing of how el rly did do the massacre it's gonna take a while bc i still have to do a little more analyzing and go over alllll of nina

there's literally more parallels but i can't fit them in this post but they aren't too important, more just to show the writers genuinely got inspo straight from this. anyways how fun right my jaw was on the floor watching this

#the nina project #stranger things parallels #future man

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redbleedingrose · 2 years

Text

Always ~ Part 5

Azriel x Reader

Summary: You and Azriel have been best friends for years after you joined the inner circle as the top healer in Velaris. But with Elain and Nesta’s recent arrival, Azriel has begun to ignore your friendship in favor of being together with Elain. You are heartbroken, and it is Starfall where you will be confined in the house of wind with Azriel and Elain. Everything will be okay though… right?

Warnings: Angst, cursing, smut, first time writing

Part 6

Minors DNI!!! Word count: ~ 2.7k

Authors note: Hello everyone!! Thank you so much again for all the love and support for Always. I am honestly so overwhelmed by it. Here is part 5, I am so so so sorry for the wait, but I spent all night writing it up for you all so I hope you enjoy. As always, I love seeing your comments, so do comment, repost, and like. I hope you enjoy! (Also I realized I suck at writing smut so don’t expect anything good in terms of that, so so sorry 😣) 💓🌹

The moment the scream left your mouth, the anger drained from Azriel’s face, replaced by a look that you couldn’t place. He stood there, stupidly staring at you, as if he couldn’t believe you were screaming at him, as if he couldn’t understand what he had done to deserve being yelled at. And it only made the anger in you reach new heights, the argument from Starfall only adding fuel. “What the actual fuck Azriel, what did you just do?” you repeated, heart pounding as he morphed his gaze into a cool indifference, the swirling shadows around him rushing back towards their master, subdued in his wake. And it made you even angrier, how dare he act so unbothered after what he just did? How dare he make a scene like that? What the fuck is he on? And who does he think he is?

“So this is what it took for you to fucking talk to me?,” exasperation influencing the tone of his voice as his eyes met yours. The rage that had filled your body towards Azriel boiled over; you were in disbelief, “Is that what this was fucking about? Because we weren’t talking?” The spymaster shrugged, posture leaving very little to betray his current emotions. Up until now, you and Azriel had never really argued, you never really fought with each other. You were in agreement most of the time, and often had an unspoken rule of support for one another. If you were ever in a group setting, and you thought the other was wrong, you would never admit it in front of everyone else. In fact, you would die on a hill to support one another in front of the inner circle, and then in private would talk about differences in each other's opinions. Of course, you had disagreements here and there, but those were usually resolved with quiet murmurs over a glass of wine followed by cuddling as Azriel would read from whatever new book he had obtained. This Azriel, the one standing in front of you, was one you hadn’t seen before, and you didn’t know how to handle it. Every time you felt as though you knew every part of him, he continued to throw you for a loop and would find ways to show you the endlessly complex dimensions that made him.

But this argument, this thing, whatever this was, it couldn’t be solved over a glass of wine. It couldn’t be resolved with murmurs and soft touches or cuddles or glances he would send your way. The ache, the pain that had lodged itself in your chest leaving you literally breathless, was too great for that. “Azriel, you did that your fucking self,” your spine straightened and your voice was sharp, the anger and pain created a boldness in you that pressured you to continue, “You have pushed me away ever since Elain has come into the picture. And, honestly Az, I get it, three brothers for three sisters. It should make sense, right? But Elain has a fucking mate, his name is Lucien, remember him? A mate that she ignores despite him doing everything to try to rectify the situation. A situation that you aren’t helping, in fact, it is a situation that you are contributing to by entertaining her little crush on you. And you have the gall to accuse me of doing Gods only know what with Lucien.” You were almost proud of yourself, the shadowsinger had this fucking coming. A small part of you wanted this to hurt him, to shock him into reality, to give him an ounce of the pain that he gave you. He needed to be reminded that he was not Elain’s. You could only wish that he was yours, and you would never hold it against him for not loving you the way you love him. He needed to be reminded that he hadn’t been a good friend to you, not in a while. He needed to be put in his place. But the feeling of pride was fleeting. You thought you would feel better after calling him out on his hypocrisy, but it didn’t, there was only sadness that seeded itself in you.

Azriels eyes bored into yours, looking at you like you had grown two heads, speechless. It was almost as if the words that were coming out of your mouth were ridiculous, as if they were words from some ancient language that was forgotten and he couldn’t understand what you were trying to say. But he had to understand, he had to know what he was doing. He had to know how he was treating you. He had to know that he was alienating himself. He had to know that he had been pushing you away, that the argument on starfall was not something that had come out of nowhere, but was a direct result of his recent actions and behavior. His mouth fell open before shutting it. His eyes narrowed at you, scrutinizing you, studying you, before he hissed out,“Y/N, I don’t fucking care about Elain. I don’t want to talk about her or think about her. I am with you. You, my best friend. My-,” He cut himself off, tightening his jaw and gritting his teeth, you knew that this was him trying to avoid the same mistakes he made on Starfall by watching and picking the words that left his mouth, “You know what, Y/N? I am sorry for what happened on Starfall. I am. I am sorry about the things that I said. I shouldn’t have ever said them. They were things I should’ve never thought about, let alone speak into existence. But you-,” he let out a bitter laugh as his shadows whipped around us suddenly frenzied, pointing towards his loss of control as he continued his rant, “The way you talked to Lucien, the way you laughed at his jokes, and gave him your undivided attention. Gods Y/N, it made me sick to my stomach. What I said that night, I didn’t say it because I meant it, I didn’t say it for Elain ethier. I said it because, well, I said it because I couldn’t stand to see you look at him, the way I look at you.” All the anger, all the pain you had experienced this week, these past couple of months, all of it, every bit and piece, vanished into thin air. Completely gone, replaced by confusion that filled every part of you. You hadn’t even thought Azriel was that bothered by you talking to Lucien that night, he was never the kind to express any sort of jealousy or possessiveness over his friends. It didn’t make sense, none of it did. Your heart was suddenly speeding up, and your stomach churned as you tried to make sense of what he was saying. Not one word that was coming out of his mouth was making any sense whatsoever. What the fuck was he talking about? “What the fuck are you talking about Az?” The question left your mouth before you could stop it. But you didn’t know what else to say. You didn’t know how to process or react to what he was telling you. A small part of you, a sick part of you, wanted to jump up and down giddy at the jealousy Azriel was expressing.

“I don’t know what else to say, sweetheart.” Your heart jumped into your throat at the nickname. But his response wasn’t good enough. It just wasn’t. It didn’t explain his behavior beyond Starfall, it didn’t explain why he was pushing you away, and it certainly didn’t explain the mixed signals he had been sending your way throughout your entire relationship. You scoffed, turned your back to him to walk towards the kitchen, away from him. This was not the way you expected for this conversation to go; you had spent the entire week playing it out in your head. You had thought Azriel would apologize, you thought he would explain himself and beg for forgiveness, beg to move on from this and continue to be best friends, beg to go back to how things once were. But this, the jealousy, was out of bounds, beyond any scenario you had envisioned. “I am done with this conversation. And I am done with you, Az.” You leaned your elbows against the kitchen counter, not having the courage to face him as you spoke with finality in your tone, “Please leave.”

“No.” His reply was strained and sharp. Any drop of strength in you had left, every ounce of your being screamed at you to whip around and force him to leave, your heart cracked at the thought. But you couldn’t, not when the thud of his boots hit your floor, and quickly approached you, stopping right behind you. Not when Azriel’s broad chest pressed firmly against your back. Not when the familiar scent of his dimmed every flare of resistance you had within you. Not when puffs of his soft breath landed on the part of your neck that was exposed. Not when his shadows, that were once flailing about, were wrapping around your wrists and ankles in a cool touch, slithering up your body slowly. Your hands had come up to grip the counter, so tight that your knuckles turned white at the exertion, heart beating so fast you were sure the both of you could hear it. The part of you that was once begging you to force Azriel to leave was missing, and now stood in place the part of you that begged you to turn around and face him, begging you to turn around and push yourself onto the balls of your feet and capture his lips between yours.

The shadowsinger took a deep breath, inhaling your scent, “I have missed you, sweetheart, so fucking much. Gods, I fucking ache for you,” your heart jumped at his confession, a rope tightening around it at his proximity, “Do you know what this past week, these past couple of months have fucking done to me? Do you know how badly it hurt when you didn’t talk to me that gods-damned night, how badly it hurt when you didn’t open your door for me, how badly it hurt to see you talk to Lucien and not me, how badly it hurt to see you tonight dancing with that motherfucker? Do you see what you fucking do to me, huh sweets?” Every word was whispered into your neck, followed by soft lips brushing against the smooth skin, goosebumps arising as his lips pressed gentle kisses after each sentence. You couldn’t fucking breathe, you were suffocating under his kisses, and mother help you, you were loving every second of it. Your breath caught in your throat when his scarred hands gripped at your waist, sliding down to your hips, firmly pressing his palms against your softness. You literally hung onto every last word that left him, you couldn’t get fucking enough. Rhys’s words rung through your mind, “Make him grovel, sister.”

Gods almighty, you pressed your eyes shut, not able to look at him, because if you did, neither of you would be talking anymore. No, you would be grabbing him by his neck and pulling him into your bed where you would do unspeakable things to him. Your mind had gone completely blank, butterflies filled your stomach as it churned over and over. You couldn’t think of anything to say. You couldn’t think of any comeback. Not now. So you whispered back the only thing that you could possibly think to say in this moment, “Show me what I do to you,” exhaling sharply, “Show me, Az.”

Almost immediately, as if it was his instinct, Azriel’s fingers dug into your hips, stumbling to shift you to face him. One of his hands slowly moved from your hip to your back, a tingling sensation followed it as it slid down to your thighs before gently lifting you up onto the counter. He nudged your legs apart with his firm thighs immediately moving into the space between them as he moved his head down close to yours, wanting to stare into your eyes. His hands swiftly moved to your waist, pressing you impossibly close to him, until there was no space between you. Your chest was flushed against his, feeling every shift in his quickened breath. Your hands left from the counter to grip his tattooed forearms, inked with all the promises and deals he had made throughout his life, gently sliding them up and down, and your eyes snapped to catch his hazel ones when he nudged his nose against yours. They had gone completely black, pupils blown so wide, only a sliver of hazel iris’ peeking through. Your breaths intermingled with each other as his wings flared, showing off the full membranous expanse of them. One breath. And another. And another. And another. And another. You stared at each other. And stared. And stared. And stared. Your eyes shifted between his and his lips, noses nudging each other. Again. And again. And again.

Abruptly, when he couldn’t hold back any longer, Azriel’s lips pressed roughly against yours. Any restraint held by either of you was gone, lost in the ether. A soft moan left your lips as you roughly pressed up against him, trying to remove any space that existed between you. Your lips moved quickly against each other, not able to get enough once you had gotten a taste for one another. The scent of his arousal flooded the room along with yours, a rich scent that only enhanced your need; he tasted fucking irresistible. Mother above, you couldn't stop. You didn't want to stop. Cauldron, it felt so good. Over and over again, your lips met each other, a gasp left your lips as one of his hands came down, slapping your ass leaving a sharp sting in its wake, tongue slipping quickly into your mouth at the opening, sliding against yours in a fight for dominance. A fight that he swiftly won. Desperately, your hands left his forearms and wrapped around his neck, one hand running through his hair as the other slipped toward his wings, running your forefinger right against the hard bone. “Fuck baby,” he groaned into your kiss, jolting in your arms. Your legs quickly wrapped around his waist as he hoisted you up, lips not leaving yours for a second before he pushed you onto the bed, following you down. Your hand that was gripping his hair pulled roughly, another groan leaving his lips as he pulled back, teeth catching your lip as he sucked on the bottom lip. “Gods Azriel,” a whisper, a plea that left your lips as he finally moved onto kissing your neck. “Tell me you’re mine, Y/N.” Your hips began moving of their own accord, grinding into him, trying to catch any friction possible. “Tell me, sweetheart.” You wanted him, Cauldron, you needed him. A whimper left you as he gently bit into your most sensitive spot, “I’m yours Az, always.”

“Mother above, sweetheart, that’s fucking right,” he ripped your shirt off, leaning down to catch your hardened nipple into his mouth, groaning as he sucked hard and flicking his tongue over and over again. Moans began flowing from your lips, the pleasure was almost unbearable. He rutted his hips into yours, the friction leading to a steady build in you. Your eyes shot open, a squeal slipped past your lips in shock as his hand moved away from your ass, sliding up to your other breast, pinching your neglected nipple. Finally, he pulled his head back and moved up, continuing to grind his hips against yours as he moved his hand to grip your neck, he gently squeezed as he stared into your eyes as the words came tumbling out of his mouth, “You’re mine and I’m yours. Always, sweetheart, always.” Tears stung the corner of your eyes, you slowly nodded believing every word that he was whispering as you stared back up at him. But the part of your mind that was stuck in this moment, the part of your mind that wanted this moment to go on forever, had different plans for you both tonight. And so, your voice broke as you whimpered back, “Then prove it, Az.”

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

Taglist: @paasrin @positivewitch @fieldofdaisiies @judig92 @sv0430 @highlady-ofillyria @wrensical003 @brekkershadowsinger @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @mrs-azriel @cityofidek @nova-stardragon @thewarriormoon @ilovespideyyy @azzydaddy @bookish-dream @nobody00sthings @marigold-morelli @solossweater @rubygirly @hanasakr @ellievickstar @shadowcrowsworld @lucyysthings @cameronsails @peachycandy10 @bruhhvv @flyingsquidsgrowwings-blog @adreamerforthestars @lahoete @mis-lil-red @his-sweet-nightmare @esposadomd @blurredlamplight @elizarikaallen @tiffthebookworm

(let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list)

#azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #rhysand acotar #pro rhysand #pro nesta #pro feyre #feyre acotar #morr acotar #cass acotar #nesta acotar #lowkey anti elain #elain acotar #lucien acotar #first time writing #rose writes #smut

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adaptacy · 6 months

Note

If you are taking requests, I have a pairing that I do not ever see enough of: Gale x Durge. Specifically resisting the urge type Durge. Starved for content as I am, I’d be happy with whatever is written about the two. But I’d love something involving Durge nearly killing their lover or the reveal of Durge being one of the orchestrators of the Absolute plot. In game, those scenes feel far too underdeveloped.

Durge playthrough spoilers blow the cut (Shadow-cursed lands, Last Light Inn stuff. No act 3 spoilers)

so, I haven't gotten to that far into my durge playthru but I did get to the part where you try and kill your lover and to nobody's surprise that happened to be Gale!! i was actually kinda terrified that he was going to die bcs, in my defense, I did try to kill Isobel but Marcus or whatever-his-name-was got the last blow on her first and I was devastated that Gale was gonna have to pay the price for my low damage roll. in the end ofc it was worth it cause he tied my durge up and, I mean, who's gonna complain abt that??

ANYWAYS point is, yes, I agree, I wish that scene was more fleshed out too and I am more than happy to oblige and build on the scene that we were given! Also fun fact, I hadn't actually confirmed the relationship with Gale when this scene happened but the night directly after I tried to kill him he showed me his... 'tower'. And given how horny he gets watching tav/durge beat ppl up in the shadow cursed lands, i do not think that was a coincidence LMAO

No Sceleritas here cause I'm just gonna get to the good part :D — also durge here is gonna be sorta resisting the urge, but has more or less been allowing it to fester, just not embracing it.

Gorgeous was an understatement.

Busy days — waking hours occupied by wars, sight filled only with the flashes of spells and showers of blood — were all you knew. Nights were barely any break. Smiles were more common at camp, but given the near complete lack of smiles outside of camp, it wasn't saying much. There wasn't much time to be at camp, as the original mission to rid yourselves of the tadpoles grew messier and messier with every passing battle, and each matter was more pressing than the last.

You didn't mind, really. While you were just as eager to get the incubating creature out of your head as the rest of your group, each new quest and mission brought along with it the promise of bloodshed. Adrenaline. Victory. A momentary but exorbitantly satisfying quenching of your thirst for violence. A thirst you first found unsettling and terrifyingly unfamiliar.

When you first found yourself gazing down at the bloodied body of a stranger, dreaming of the torturous pain they must have felt when they met their fate, you were disgusted. Couldn't believe where your thoughts had wandered.

You'd fought it. Refrained from telling the others for fear of being ridiculed, or losing their trust, or scaring them. For a while, you'd fought it. But scarlet liquids, screams of terror, and slaughter had become your routine.

And gorgeous was an understatement.

Peace. Security. Naivete.

One knee bent, the other lazily stretched out, the bedroll barely containing the length of his body. One hand under his head, the other by his side. His eyes were closed, the soft hazel only ever plagued by a buried longing was hidden from you now. His hair spread over one arm and on the thin straw pillow beneath his head, more messy than he'd ever let it be seen while he was awake.

His right cheekbone had a bruise on it from where he'd hit himself with the butt of his staff while swinging it, and you recalled finding time to chuckle at his mistake in the middle of the battle. Being a few feet away, he'd heard it, and couldn't help but look over at you, his cheeks red from more than the blunt force, his mouth pulled back in an embarrassed smile. The moment of shame had earned him a punch to the side from his opponent moments before Astarion managed to stick them with his own blade, saving Gale from a worse fate.

Even down here, far from the surface, it was warm enough — perhaps from the fire that burned a mere two, maybe three, feet away — for Gale to concede and discard his shirt, resting more comfortably in a pair of indigo pants.

He had been honest about his appetites. His cravings. He was hardly hesitant about revealing that part of himself to you — fortunately, he was plenty aware of the consequences that would be wrought upon you, and the rest of the group, should he risk being unable to consume artifacts if he kept his secret.

Even Astarion, who's affliction was much closer to your own, was honest about his needs. It took a lot longer, and you're not sure how things would have gone over had you not woken up the night he planned to feast on you, but his admission did occur.

You were aware of the risks of your secret. You always yearned for more, even when you were positively drenched in crimson, when you'd been messy enough in your strikes that bathing in the river the following evening caused the water around you to be tainted a diluted red. Everything was temporary. Even the satisfaction derived from fights that left your weapon with such thick clumps of gore that Gale had to hold the shaft while you scrubbed away, as if the fight itself hadn't been taxing enough on your exhausted body.

Yet they all remained unaware. Some picked up on it better than others; Lae'zel's compliments, however shallow they often were, had picked up in frequency as you allowed your hunger to get the best of you, undoubtedly giving you some heartless upper hand against the foes forced to face off against your party. Karlach found you delightful, affectionately doting over you as you imitated her own battle-induced rages, though she didn't quite pick up on your lingering stares or mild smirks when your appetite had been satisfied.

Gale was the closest to discovering the truth. Unsurprising, given your mutual favoritism for one another. When you'd butchered Alfira, you'd been quick to blame wolves. Shadowheart, immediately discomforted at the mention, believed you without a second thought. Lae'zel had jumped to blame the Tiefling's lack of defense. Astarion seemed unbothered at best. The others were too busy mourning the bard's early demise to ask questions.

But he'd found you later, kneeling by the river, just before bed. 'A devastating misfortune she suffered. A sweet, innocent soul. Misfortune is perhaps the only apt term for the loss. Terribly curious, it is — To be so savagely slaughtered by beasts that aren't even native to these woods.'

You remembered freezing, fear flashing in a quick rush across your vision, knowing his eyes were on you, studying your reaction. He was so close. You'd agreed — 'an unfortunate fate indeed' — and he'd said goodnight.

Never again was it brought up. Never again was it questioned.

And gorgeous was an understatement.

That was, perhaps, the worst misfortune of all. He had such undying curiosity about the world, and yet that curiosity never reached you, or your intentions, or your past. Too trusting.

The camp was quiet. Crackling flames, distant whispers from the shadows hanging just beyond the light's reach, and his soft, patterned, blissful breathing. His chest rose and fell, so helplessly gentle.

His staff leaned up against a rock several feet away, alongside with everyone's weapons, save for Astarion, who preferred to keep his daggers close. Today had been no different from the rest; the battles had been taxing, only seeming to increase in difficulty the further you wandered into the shadows. He'd given it his all today, and it had been worth it, as you'd managed yet another day without losing any member of your party. As he'd explained it, the more of the weave he manipulated, the weaker his spells got — at least until he was able to rest.

He lay before you, undoubtedly sapped by the day's events. Defenseless.

And gorgeous was an understatement.

Three bruises. One on his cheekbone, one persistent discoloration that sat in the middle of the dark mark of the orb, and one on his side where he'd been assaulted by the undead in his moment of distraction. In a blink, your fingers grace the bruise on his side, and they tingle. Being fresh, the blemishes swirl a deep purple into his light skin, nearly matching the tint of his pants.

Purple was his best color, wasn't it?

The twitch of your fingertips sends a pulse through your body, and you taste an itch in the back of your throat. The tadpole squirms, you can feel its short wriggle behind your eye, but its control falters. Some other sensation warms your body, easing you into a malleable, thinning consciousness, and your gaze trails slowly, drunkenly, over his torso.

Three bruises. Clear, stuck to his skin like the stars he so fondly recalls. So far from the view of the sky, and yet you find a constellation still. Another blink, and your right leg has crossed over his waist. However forgotten your past is, it grants you a waking dream, as vivid as reality; Gale Dekarios, laying under you much like he was now, his pretty face littered with prettier bruises that dot all the way down to his shoulders, his neck red and swollen, branded by the picturesque imprint of hands.

Your hands.

And gorgeous is an understatement.

It's distinct. The pulse of his arteries, teasing the gift of blood beneath his skin, purring under your fingers as they push, your thumbs hitched underneath his jaw, pressuring the veins. Your own heart is thumping, encouraging your desires, urging you to indulge.

You've tasted vindication like this before. When you awoke to the spectacle of Alfira's maimed corpse, there was serenity like nothing you knew possible. It came underlined by pride, your work preciously appalling, and you relished the piece, the art macabre and perfect.

The sweeter the canvas, the finer the design.

Gale was nothing if not sweet.

"My — Hardly the sight I was expecting to wake to."

Another blink, and his bruises are gone, save for the contusion on his cheek. Absent are the inscriptions of your hands on his neck, and his hazel eyes are revealed to you once more. Though you don't remember moving it, your hand presses against the black circle on his chest, palm pining for his throat.

You're unable to move. Unable to control yourself. Unable to win back your own consciousness. Gale props himself up on his elbows. His heart rate has picked up, and yet you don't sense fear. The curiosity in his eyes is familiar. The quirk in his left eyebrow and the smirk playing on the corner of his mouth is not.

"I do assume you meant to wake me, eventually. No harm," he says, gaze narrowing, and your lack of a response makes him huff out a chuckle, or at least part of one, as it only lasts a beat. Your eyes are pinned to his throat, reaching to find the comfort of your imagination's lens again, but your dream has been interrupted. At last, your eyes meet his, and it's the hazel that causes the tadpole to squirm again, awakening your senses once more. Gale moves one of his hands to rest on your waist, and his head recoils ever so slightly. "You look uncomfortable. What's wrong?" He asks, and you're able to sense a less pleasant curiosity, but it's still free of fearful influence.

"I'm going to kill you. You have to stop me."

His eyes widen, and still, there is no fear. He doesn't believe you. "A rather twisted joke... Not one I find particularly humorous. Albeit, humor is subjective, although–"

"I killed Alfira. You're next. No time – you have to stop me," you huff, and your confession brings on a raging headache, unlike any pain you've ever felt before. You lean forward, teeth grit as you groan, and Gale squeezes your hip for a moment. Though the reverberations in your head are overwhelming at the least, you finally catch a hint of fear from the wizard, and you're thankful for it. At least a part of you is, though the beast that brings on your headache is only bubbling to a rage, furious that you would dare turn against your thoughts. You've not committed a betrayal against your own conscience, but instead, betrayed your destiny, refusing some urge that is larger than yourself.

With what little remaining control you have, you push yourself off of him, and he's quick to rise to his feet. Your eyes squeeze closed, fighting the unwelcome entity with the rest of your energy, though given your excursions earlier in the day, that energy is quickly dwindling. Your knees press to the dirt, the heels of your palms pressing to your temples as you keel over, an aggressive, roaring nausea plaguing your senses, soon joined by an even more violent malignity that rips into your control as though it means to test you.

You want him dead.

A wonderful bath his blood would provide — A marvelous crack his bones would sing — A remarkable terror he could feel. He will suffer.

There's a firm squeeze on your arms as they're yanked behind your back, and you writhe, fighting your cravings as they fight your containment. The hold is followed by a burning scrape on your wrists as they are hastily, and uncomfortably tightly, bound by rope. Your head swings, but Gale manages to pull back in time, his reflex causing his grip to falter, and you fall to your side, rolling towards his bedroll.

He frowns, eyebrows pinched inward and he kneels in place, a few paces away, reading the situation and assessing just how much of a threat you pose. Gale glances at where Shadowheart and Karlach lie, still miraculously sleeping soundly despite the struggle occurring no more than two yards from where they reside. His attention returns to you. "Easy. Should you retain any control, I merely request that you refrain from indulging in... whatever your intentions may have been. Greedy as it may be, an explanation certainly wouldn't hurt."

There's a command, conjuring as a sensation rather than a verbal declaration, and it rings through your entire body. You're unable to decipher the apparition's ambition, but your muscles act nonetheless. It fights — you fight — against the rope, and there's a flare of savage discontent when you're unable to free yourself. "You're better off as my prey! You will suffer a purgatory worse than any of the hells could manage," you bark, and your words are not your own. The control he speaks of is entirely silenced, leaving you an unwilling vessel, forced to submit to the will of your past.

"Not the answer I would have preferred, but an answer nonetheless. Yelling will only stir the others from their slumber, and I predict they won't be as understanding as yours truly. You should consider taking up a quieter tone," he advises, and you growl, forcing rashes into your wrists as you wage a war on your binds.

"I will spill your blood before this night is through!" You yell again, and Karlach shifts where she sleeps, stirring a flash of worry in his expression. "Wake them! I'll slaughter them all the same!"

Gale cringes, conflicted for only a moment before he overcomes his internal argument, and he quickly rushes to your side. You bite at him with a rabid ferocity, and he sits behind you, pulling your body closer to his own, even as you squirm and fight him. Shadowheart mumbles, bordering on the edge of lucidity, and Gale curses out a whispered "Godsdamn it." He huffs, irritated just as much as he is scared, and his palm presses to your mouth, his thumb keeping your jaw shut — or at least trying to keep it shut — as your head is pulled against his shoulder.

You mumble, fervently antagonizing him, your muffled words being split up only by the subtle flinching of your jaw as you attempt to bite at his hand, all to no avail. His grasp is tight, nearly rough, keeping you as restrained as possible, and he watches Karlach and Shadowheart with apprehensive dread, his focus painfully split between concern for you and fear of you.

Gale looks down at you, his expression firm and yet, against all odds and expectations, somehow understanding, even if it is incredibly mild. "I've seen you tear apart the most ferocious of beasts. Foes that would make Bhaal himself tremble. You always prevail. You must defeat this — whatever it is." He nods, but his encouragement is not what you want to hear; you thirst for his terror, you thirst for his pleading, you want to see him tremble. His tone softens, and he squeezes your jaw, almost tenderly. "I'm right here. No blood will be shed tonight. Fight to your heart's content; I will not give in. You cannot give in, either."

Your heart is all that remains of your better judgement, and it aches at his promise, though the guilt and appreciation is quickly whisked away by your burning rage, your need for violence. You persist, as does he, correcting your every shift, no matter how exhausted he grows. Certainly the most stern you've ever seen him — more disciplined than you knew he could be, but you have little room in your mind to process that. You despise the way that he cares, the fact that he is just gentle enough not to injure you as he restricts you, the understanding in his expression, the near nurturing tone he takes on.

Yet it's the affection that eventually subsides your bloodlust, willing it to retire, however angry it remains. Angry at the loss, angry at the incompetence, angry at the devotion. Devotion to the wrong subject. Gale wins, ultimately — and by some affiliation, so too do you. A temporary victory, you're well-aware, but even if it isn't permanent, your body becomes your own, your thoughts and feelings along with it.

Exhaustion is the first burden you bear upon your return, and Gale is hesitant to ease his grasp on you, but he takes the risk, and you can't muster the energy to move away from him. Your head pangs with a narrow pain, manifesting as a faint ringing in your ears, and your wrists sear with sharp bites from the fraying rope. His hand releases your mouth, shifting quickly to your shoulder as your torso threatens to fall over, your buried rancor having completely wasted away the last of your energy.

Gale sighs, his own muscles easing up as he inches backwards, allowing you to lean more comfortably, and with a bit more stability, against his chest. One of his arms stays displayed over your abdomen, quite possibly still a little worried you might lash out again, and you didn't blame him for exercising caution. You lean into him, mostly because you lack the energy to do much else, but also because you want him to understand that you are beyond appreciative. "I'm sorry," you mumble, your voice hoarse and barely above a whisper — barely audible at all, really.

"I know. You're okay. Rest now, you'll certainly require some form of rejuvenation if we intend on defeating Ketheric and... Well, repressing whatever it is that you find yourself cursed with. And I assure you, I do so unquestionably intend on assisting you with your affliction. After all, I'm quite fond of my vitals, and I've no interest in seeing them spilled." Gale's tone is almost lighthearted, but genuine still.

His arm releases you, and he guides you to rest your head in his lap, allowing you to experience a little more comfort. Your eyes close, and you fear sleep — you know the possible horrors you could cause when you're left defenseless against your bloodlust — but you feel it taking you nonetheless. Gale doesn't untie you, not yet anyways, and it provides the slightest of reassurances. Worst case scenario, you know that, should the urge take advantage of your rest, Gale will expect it this time.

"Perhaps a poor time for confessions," he begins, his hand brushing stray hairs from your face, "But I must admit, the notion of you becoming lost to that rage is not a concept I'm anywhere near comfortable with. Keeping my heart beating is one motivation, and a strong one at that — but I hope you understand that keeping you safe is also immensely important to me. In all honesty, I'm... not sure what I'd do without you. I worry enough witnessing your engagement in the violent affairs we do so often find ourselves tangling with." Gale pauses, and clears his throat, shifting nervously. "Apologies, pay me no mind — A little shaken up, I fear my feelings may be getting the best of me. Rest. We'll reconvene come morning."

#baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #gale baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale dekarios bg3 #gale dekarios x reader #gale dekarios x durge #durge bg3 #bg3 durge #durge #gale bg3 x durge #durge x gale #bg3 #gale of waterdeep

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butterflydm · 9 months

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wot rewatch (book spoilers edition): 2x4

Not only is this one going to have spoilers for all the aired episodes plus any teasers, it will also have book spoilers through book 14: a memory of light (haha let's pretend I didn't accidentally call it book 13 in my previous rewatch book spoilers posts). I am also going to talk about the trailer for ep5.

I love this change to the seals being what's holding the Forsaken -- and Lanfear's side-step of death at the end of the episode shows us why such a choice was required on LTT's part (I am currently assuming it was LTT who was the driving force behind this because of the memory echo that Rand had at the 'Eye of the World' where he was confronting Ishamael). He had to seal them up because they couldn't be killed conventionally, because the Dark One could just bring them back (Lord of the Grave). This is a great change for a visual medium because it means they can keep the same actors instead of needing to swap them out for a new body. It also adds a great new threat level to the Forsaken right off the bat and it gives viewers another reason to understand why joining the Shadow might be compelling. They don't want the wheel and reincarnation -- they want to live on as the person that they are now.

It's also interesting because it means that the Forsaken are potentially widely dispersed and it may mean that Ishy has to actively seek for where they've been sealed up (maybe asking his Darkfriends to try to find more seals like this) -- which may mean that the Forsaken are loosed more slowly than in the books, as Ishamael discovers where Lews Therin hid them. (or they were all released here and we were only shown Lanfear because she's the most relevant one)

3. The reveal that Lady Anveare is Moiraine's younger sister! This episode gives us a lot of information about Moiraine -- one of the big things that we learn is that she's much older than she was in the books. Which is a change I like; so many of the AS that we meet in the books are still within a 'natural' lifespan and it was kinda weird tbh. I think that she (and Siuan) took longer to make Accepted and Sister in this version (hence the note we get about how Cadsuane is the person to compare Nynaeve's rocketing through the ranks to and not the two of them) and that they were already full Sisters when they heard the prophecy from Gitara. This does track with them wearing blue in that scene from the trailer, which is potentially going to be a flashback to the prophecy (fingers crossed! would love to hear it!).

I am curious about how this may affect all the various familial relations in the show! But they were basically ignored completely in the books anyway, lol.

4. "My family have a cabin up near Kinslayer's Dagger". Wanting to take Rand up to the place that was named after how LTT killed his wife and all of the people that he loved -- I mean, yeah. That's Lanfear for you. So... has Lanfear used Compulsion on Rand at all or is it all pure manipulation? I am torn, tbh. She's manipulating him hard, both in the waking world and in the world of dreams. I'm not sure if she needed Compulsion to push him over the edge -- and I feel like her reaction to him implying that he loves her feels very genuine and I don't know if she would be quite that blown away by him saying that if she's been Compelling him to go along with her part of the way. They also might not want to lean too much on Compulsion for subtle things like this and save it for bigger influences. But we may find out more next episode, so I will be patient. He does abruptly change his mind in her favor a couple of times, so that may speak to a hint of Compulsion. If she is using it, she's picking and choosing her moments. (I don't think Compulsion has been mentioned at all on the show yet?)

5. An interesting thought to me about how Alanna approaches being an Aes Sedai with her family: this is potentially similar to how we're going to be seeing how the Wise Ones are integrated with Aiel society. They keep their families and are a vital part of their community.

6. Timing-wise, they do make it clear that Moiraine bonded Lan after her abrupt personality change -- so Lan is probably the same age that he was in the books, with only Moiraine (and some other Aes Sedai) being older. It's also interesting that Moiraine didn't feel any need to have a Warder before she heard the prophecy.

7. I will note again that Egwene does NOT tell Elayne the name of the person that she lost, which I am going to cross my fingers has pay-off later on in the season, with Elayne meeting Rand without knowing that he's the person that Egwene is talking about here. I really do want them to meet without the context of "this is my friend's ex-boyfriend who faked his own death" hanging over their heads. Right now, Elayne has zero facts or knowledge about Rand as a person -- doesn't know his name, his looks, or that he's a man who can channel (she does not even know that Egwene is talking about a man! Egwene says "someone I love more than anything").

8. We get some more foreshadowing of the coup in this conversation with Liandrin and Leane. "If she falls, you'll fall with her." I really am wondering when exactly Elaida will be introduced. I feel like it would likely be before the coup itself happens.

Liandrin, I suspect, will not be going back to the Tower (or, if she does, it will only be briefly, to collect a handful of other Black Ajah members and then head out to whenever it is that the Black Ajah Hunters plotline will take Elayne and Nynaeve next season -- whether that be Tanchico like in the books or Tear as @markantonys has speculated, also, to briefly go back to the previous scene, I am sorry that you did not get your boy! Hopefully we will hear something about him soon). Liandrin torched her bridges with the Wondergirls in this episode, so even if she does go back to the Tower, as soon as she learns that the Seanchan were pushed out of Falme, she would know that her cover in the Tower is blown and that she needs to leave before anyone can learn about what she did.

9. I think the placement of Perrin learning about wolfbrothers is so much better here than jammed into right after Shadar Logoth, lol. Elyas really just rolled up, infodumped, and then rolled away in the books, lol.

10. We still don't know that LTT was Lanfear's ex, which is fantastic and I love it, lol. Show-onlys guessing that Ishamael is the ex that Lanfear keeps talking about is the most hilarious thing in the world and I'm in love with it. I've seen it at least twice now in the non-reader reactions that I've watched.

Haha, Lanfear's reaction when Rand reminds her that he wasn't a virgin when they slept together. Her face is just priceless. She is stabbing Egwene in her mind right now. (does she know it was Egwene? I mean, Egwene being one of the ta'veren actually gives her a shield against Lanfear killing her that she didn't have in the books, since Fain established that TDO sees all five of the ta'veren as important)

11. The show has been establishing so strongly that Rand dreams of having a home, raising his kids, and doesn't want to be... idk a lone wanderer in the wilderness, and it does make me wonder/hope that they'll adjust his ending epilogue and have him going to his loved ones in the end instead of wandering off on his own and wondering which of the women he loves is going to be the first to abandon her responsibilities to join in him wandering around aimlessly.

(it's probably obvious from my description there that I am in favor of a bit of tweaking of Rand's ending!)

12. Learning that the person telling him to 'take' what he wants was, in fact, one of the Forsaken, might be something that leads into Rand pushing away the idea of being allowed to ever indulge in the things that he wants, which would match a lot of his behavior in the books.

13. So, in the books, Barthanes is a Darkfriend. I'm assuming that's the son that Anvaere is talking about, the one that she is marrying to the nameless queen who might be a Galldrian expy. Is Anvaere a Darkfriend? Lanfear didn't seem to like her in 2x3 but, well, she was A Woman who was talking to Lanfear's Man and that might matter more to her than any Shadow affliations.

...still, I'm going to guess 'no', because I don't think the Shadow would want Moiraine to get literally any information on Rand and Anveare's information is a straight line that leads to Lanfear's throat getting cut. But Anvaere's son being a DF while she is not is also very tragic to think about! While Anveare was trying to restore their house the honorable way, Barthanes may have taken a shortcut. Another possibility would be that Barthanes is not yet a Darkfriend but will become so because of the events of this season.

14. I think "Elayne is following them because she's suspicious of why they're sneaking out of the Tower" is a good way to get around the fact that Elayne doesn't know any of the people that they're going to rescue and she ends up getting caught up in it by accident, little knowing how the course of her life is going to change. It really feels like it needed to be something like this because of us losing Caemlyn from s1.

15. I am so glad that Min has a storyline that isn't about following Rand around like a puppy. She has a painful backstory! She has goals and desires that don't revolve around Rand! She has to experience moral quandaries and goes through trauma that actually focuses on her as a person, instead of her being Rand's post-trauma cuddle toy.

16. Okay, so now that we know that Ishamael specifically wants Mat in Cairhien, I feel like that gives us a bunch of information:

a. It implies to me that Lanfear is still working under Ishamael's direction for the most part and that she's essentially "the agent assigned to Rand's corruption".

b. We know that they want to corrupt as many of the ta'veren as possible (from what Fain said in the s1 finale). Rand is the Big Prize but if any of them turned that's a bird in the hand. So, Ishamael is approaching this in a few different ways.

c. It seems like he wasn't certain exactly what was going on with Perrin until 2x3 but as soon as he has realized more about the wolf connection, he worked to try to get Perrin to view it as something evil and dark.

d. Lanfear got put in charge (volunteered, I'm sure) to do Rand. In every possible way.

e. Liandrin got basically "everyone in the Tower" but chose to focus her efforts on Nynaeve and Mat. It sounds like that may be because they were the two that stood out to her more -- she had the (hilarious) impression that Egwene was the one who would 'know her place' when the time came. So she worked on Nynaeve by trying to mentor her openly (while doing some more subtle manipulation). And she worked on Mat by destroying him psychologically.

f. Once the Seanchan are settled in the far west (maybe once Suroth's soldiers are close enough to a Waygate), Ishamael lets Liandrin know that time is up to corrupt Nynaeve and we're moving to Plan B. We've gonna do this the 'easy' way by throwing her at Suroth and let the sul'dam break Nynaeve and Egwene to be obedient.

g. But BEFORE that happened, Liandrin released Mat (with Min tugging him along) out into the world, and we find out this week that Ishamael wants Mat to be brought to Cairhien. Why?

h. Theory: Mat is the back-up plan if Lanfear fails with Rand (which she did). One of the theories that I posted about Mat's viewing from Min (Theory #4) is that he is Compelled to stab Rand. We know from 2x3 that Liandrin could sneak into his cell without waking him. Easy enough for Ishy to do the same with some Traveling. Maybe Mat is already under Compulsion by one of them, with a trigger-event waiting to happen.

Which would be completely devastating for Mat (and Rand) and also (along with Liandrin's torment of Mat in general) lead to a very compelling (ha!) reason for him to seek out a way to prevent channelers from using weaves on him. It would essentially give him the same kind of emotional reaction that we saw from the flicker-flicker scenes in the book (where he was talking about how he's not going to betray Rand) without us actually needing the Portal Stones. Mat will be: a. absolutely traumatized by Aes Sedai in general; b. terrified about weaves being used on him; c. have viscerally been forced to betray Rand against his will.

There is also... hmm, to this point. The first shot of Ishamael in the trailer for ep5 might be a match for the 'Mat is tempted by the dagger' scene that we've seen in some of the other trailers. And Ishamael and Mat getting a scene together would complete the circle of him having an intimate little talks with all the ta'veren boys. Not certain if it's the same place, but it feels like the lighting is the same. Not the later shot of him walking with Suroth but the earlier one of him in a room that looks like it's got some fireplaces going on. I will brace myself for potentially not getting Mat next episode though.

(again, if this doesn't happen in the show, I might be forced to write it. We will see!)

Plus!

i. It could provide a real-time example of Min accidentally creating a viewing while trying to prevent it! She doesn't want to hurt Mat but she also would not want him to stab Rand. But since she is the one who would likely be bringing Mat into Rand's orbit (as she has no idea that Rand is in Cairhien, I don't think), it would show the viewers that Min's viewings are inevitable instead of it just being her telling us that.

I've seen speculation that Min is going to do a U-turn and take Mat anywhere else but Cairhien (presumably accidentally going to Falme) after learning that one of the Forsaken wants Mat there but... but I really really want Rand and Mat to get a reunion lol. Rand was THE most affected by Mat staying behind last season and it would be good to build them up again in anticipation of them spending s3 together, so I'd love if they got a reunion BEFORE Falme. Like, I was so excited to hear Min is meant to take him to Cairhien!

17. I do feel like something changes for Lanfear when Rand implies that he loves her. She stops for a moment and reacts to that, and the vibe of the scene shifts afterwards too. Great meta on the subject here: https://moghedien.tumblr.com/post/727929706072227841/1-it-immediately-sets-up-the-threat-of-going-up and I pretty much agree completely. This is where her true obsession with RAND as LTT was born. She just got everything that she wanted and then it was stolen from her.

Episode 5 next week! So excited!

Looking forward to seeing Lanfear unleashed in the next episode! The saa in her eyes was just... yes. Such a good decision for them to treat TDO's resurrection of his Chosen this way, I think, so that we can keep these spectacular actors. We're gonna get info from Moiraine about the Forsaken next episode, it sounds like, which is exciting.

We also are going to get AVIENDHA! So excited about this. She looks amazing in the trailer. She sounds amazing. She is amazing.

This is also when we're going to get some more insight into the Seanchan as a whole (Loial is with Ishamael and Suroth in the trailer), I suspect.

The other probable important event about next episode is, uh, gonna be more trauma for one of our characters, though. Lots more trauma. So far, most (definitely not all!) of Egwene's trauma has been "horrible things keep happening to the people I care about" (Nynaeve's assumed death; Perrin being tortured in front of her; Rand's assumed death; Nynaeve's assumed death again this season) but now her trauma will include "a horrible thing is happening to me". It might be the 'cliffhanger' of the episode; Egwene getting taken as damane. Since it looks like we're spending some time in the Ways with Liandrin & the Wondergirls first. Or it might happen earlier. I will brace myself!

#butterfly watches wot #wot #wheel of time #wot on prime #wot show spoilers #wot prime spoilers #wot 2x4 spoilers #wot s2 spoilers #wheel of time s2 spoilers #wot book spoilers #a memory of light

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soulofapatrick · 1 year

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Delirium - Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Y/N gets injured on patrol and the pain makes you say things you have always wanted to say (I can do a part two if wanted)

Words: 2k

Warnings: swearing; injury; taking pills (literally painkillers)

Y/N’s POV

“FUCK JESSE!” I cry out, trying to wriggle away, not having much of a pain tolerance, but he lays a strong arm over my waist and puts most of his weight on it to keep me steady. I squeeze my eyes shut in agony and I can’t help leaving half moons in his forearm as he stitches the gaping hole in my side. It’s the least of my pain right now, my ankle is either broken or at least sprained while my leg is very much broken.

Jesse decided he had to stitch up my wound first, or I’d bleed out, which means I still have the pain of him resetting my leg to wait for. I’m in so much pain I’m barely self-conscious about being in just my underwear in front of my best friend. We were on patrol when we got jumped by a hoard of 10-20 runners and clickers, and I got thrown off my horse and, of course, tumbled down the most rocky cliff side in the whole area. It was a close one, but we made it and neither of us got bitten, so that’s great but now I’m here in a cabin we don’t know is safe or not; I’m almost butt naked and slipping in and out of consciousness.

We’re staying put because it’s too dangerous for Jesse to try and get me back in the condition I’m in and we’re pretty sure my horse, Cash, would have bolted straight back to town. They’ll send a search party when Cash returns without either of us in tow, so for now I just have to lie here as Jesse tends to me.

I passed out again because I’m waking with a scream of pain and an echoing snap of my leg. Jesse looks up at me from where he’s now sat on the floor with my leg in his warm grip, an apologetic look in his charcoal eyes. His hands move down my leg to my ankle and I begin begging him not to and that it’ll be okay if we leave it. He has to squeeze his eyes shut and taking a deep breath before speaking quietly, “We’ll do it on three, okay?”

“O-Okay.” I nod, hating to see him so mentally hurt by all this and gripping the sheets under me because this is going to hurt even more. I take a deep breath, “O-one,” then another, “Two.” Then I’m screaming again as Jesse popped the bone back into place.

“I’m sorry.” He leans up between my legs and hugs me as tightly as safely possible without opening the stitches or jostling my leg. I hug him back, crying into his shoulder, feeling that familiar light-headedness again and I know he can sense it too because he’s laying me back down, “Sleep, I’ll be right here, okay?”

I nod, gripping his hand tightly in mine as the pain takes over and I’m passing out again.

The sound of a warning shot has me jolting away as Jesse calls into the hallway from where he’s kneeling by my side and his gun aimed at the door. “Who’s there?”

“It’s us Jesse,” I recognise Ellie’s voice and Jesse just falls back against the bed, gun falling to the floor and face in his arms as his knees are brought to my chest. He’s exhausted and I don’t know how long I’ve been out, but from the look of the sky outside, I think I was out for at least half a day. The sun is still rising.

Ellie appears in the doorway, shadowed by Joel as they take in the scene before them. It looks a lot worse than it is as the duvet cover thrown aside, drenched in blood and the sheets I’m laying on splattered with them too, so are my clothes and Jesse’s hands. He used the last of the water to clean the open wounds on my side and the cuts all over my body.

“Check on him,” Joel’s gruff voice brings me back to the land of the living and it dawns me that I’m in my underwear in front of the man I have fallen in love with but his honey eyes don’t show any signs of anything other than concern. Ellie’s guiding Jesse into another room of the cabin while Joel rummages through his pack, pulling out a pair of sweatpants and a shirt. “What hurts?”

I open my mouth to speak but even that hurts too much so Joel calls Jesse back in asking Jesse what happened and I just listen as Jesse’s smooth voice flows like velvet around my pain fogged mind, “We got jumped on the way to the lodge, Cash bolted and Y/N got thrown down the… well she got thrown down the cliff-“

“You mean that?!” Ellie’s pointing out the window at the mountain side that has obvious tracks of blood in the snow as Jesse rubs the back of his neck and nods, “How the fuck-“

“Where is she injured?” Joel cuts Ellie off, as if wanting to get me back as soon as possible.

“I’ve cleaned and stitched up the worse wounds but she’s broken her left leg and her ankle was dislocated, I set them both. I think she’s got a couple of broken ribs, but she won’t tell me.”

“Okay. Jesse, go saddle up, take her pack with you and Ellie, help me get her dressed. We want to get back to Jackson before the storm hits or any permanent damage is done.” Joel directs my two best friends and I feel myself on the verge of passing out again, barely feeling Ellie’s familiar hands on me or Joel’s calloused ones. A rough thumb is on my chin, parting my lips so two pills can be placed on my tongue and then there’s a rim of a bottle. I do as I’m told, swallowing the pills before I’m sitting back on the bed, this time dressed.

The painkillers start to kick in, making me a little delirious by the time I’m sitting on Joel’s horse - Callus - with one of his arms around my waist holding me up as the four of us are on the route home. All I can focus on is Joel’s hand pressed against my stomach, grumbling to myself about there being too many layers between my skin and his hands. I’m leaning back into his comforting body, resting my head on his shoulder and giggling as the snow falling tickles my cheeks.

I’m turning my face to look up at Joel’s cold-flushed one, but he doesn’t look at me. Too busy keeping the horse steady as Jesse’s leading the way back with Ellie behind us. I bring a hand up and lightly scratch his salt and pepper beard; the painkillers getting rid of my verbal filter. It seems as I’m suddenly booping him on the nose and mumbling, “You’re cute. I love you.” It seems it was spoken loud enough for Ellie to let out a choked sound behind us.

Joel’s face finally turns down to look at me with an unreadable expression that has me shrinking in my seat, but my hand doesn’t want to stop gently scratching his beard. He just watches me for a second longer, those beautifully hazel eyes softening before he has to look up a Jesse’s calling to the people on watch to open the gates. He keeps a hold of me as we come to a stop, Maria and Tommy greeting us in the courtyard by the gates, helping me down after he’s jumped off.

I cry out in pain, almost falling face first into the snow, having tried jumping down onto my broken-in-two-places left leg because the pain has generally made me so delirious still. Joel scoops me up bridal style and I’m giggling again, sticking my tongue

out at Jesse, who is shaking his head fondly before he and Ellie disappear to take the horsies home. Joel’s talking to Tommy and Maria as we head towards the building that has been turned into a hospital/infirmary kind of place. I’m not listening to what he’s saying, just watching the way his brow creases with worry and his tongue darts out to wet those pretty lips every so often. My hands moving of its own accord again, moving from where I’ve looped them around his neck to run my thumb over his bottom lip.

He stops talking and meets my gaze, conflict in his eyes as we enter the building. Tommy and Maria are talking to Theo - the doctor dude - while Joel sets me down on the bed but I let out a sound of protest, grabbing his large hand. He signs softly, sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning over me, “Theo needs to check you over, okay? I’ll be right outside talking to Tommy and Maria.” He brushes a strand of my hair out of my eyes and I find myself nodding, eyes slipping shut at the feel of his chapped lips pressed to my forehead before he’s getting up and leaving me to get checked over.

I think I definitely passed out again because the next time I surface I’m no longer in the hospital bed but a very soft one that smells like heaven and there’s a firm body pressed against my side. I groan, stretching until I let out pained hiss the stitches registering with me and the body next to me stirring too.

“Easy now,” His voice is sleep filled and deep, the sound going straight south despite the pain I’m which has me blushing because why does this man have such a hold on me. Turning my head to the right I’m met by those hazel eyes that are rimmed golden in the sunlight streaming through the net curtains. He’s right there, noses almost brushing and breath mingling as we just watch each other. I want to move but I can’t, scared to ruin anything between us, but I don’t have to because he’s cautiously moving closer. His hand that was draped over my waist moves to cradle my cheek while he raises to his elbow so he’s hovering over me with eyes searching for some protest from me and finding nothing.

His lips are gentle and hesitant against mine, thumb and finger gripping my chin and guiding my head as I begin to respond to the kiss and my eyes slide shut. I splay my hands on his bare, toned chest and run them over it, mapping every mole and scar that usually lay hidden under his shirt. He lets out a soft groan and it sends sparks through me but I don’t want this to be rushed, especially with the state I’m in so I pull back a little so I whisper against his lips, “You keep making sounds like that and we’ll be reopening those stitches with the way I jump you.”

It sends a chuckle rumbling through his chest under my hands before his lips are on mine, even more delicately and he’s laying back down while pulling me with him as gently as possible. It works somehow, the cast on my leg removing any pain I thought I’d feel but then again I might just be drunk on everything Joel.

His name slips from my lips like a prayer and his rough fingers are running along my spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I don’t want this to end; I don’t want to wake up from this beautiful dream. We have to separate for air but that doesn’t stop my trailing kisses down his throat, nipping at the sensitive skin and hearing how he reacts to every little thing before he’s laying me back down next to him. His chest rising and falling rapidly and those eyes darkened with want as he whispers, “We gotta stop or I won’t be able to.”

“Then don’t.”

“Darling-“

“Joel, you don’t know how long I have wanted this.”

“We have all the time in the world baby girl.”

All the time in the world.

#Joel Miller #Joel Miller smut #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller one shot #Joel Miller x y/n #Joel Miller imagine #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller flulff #Joel Miller fic #Joel Miller fanfic #Joel Miller fanfiction #Pedro pascal smut #Pedro pascal fluff #the last of us #the last of us 2 #the last of us smut #the last of us fluff #the last of us fanfiction

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dp-marvel94 · 5 months

Text

Face to Face - Epilogue

Summary: When Danny went through the ghost catcher, he expected to be cured of the ghostliness that had haunted him since the accident, not to wake up on the lab floor with his parents saying he’d been overshadowed but everything’s back to normal now. But why does Danny Fenton cry himself to sleep to then dream of flying? Why does Phantom, the ghost who was supposedly possessing Danny remember a life that wasn’t his? Most of all, why do both the human and the ghost feel that something vital is missing, in their very soul? Or: Trying to cure himself of his powers one month after the accident, Danny accidentally splits himself but neither his ghost nor his human half know that that is what they did

First -> Last

Word Count: 5,791

Also on AO3 and Fanfiction.net

Note: Hi friends! It's been a while. Honestly, I was putting off posting this, the last chapter of Face to Face, because it intimidated me. 😅 But I really wanted to wrap this up by the end of the year. So we're finally here! I'm so excited to share the ending with you guys.

Also in honor of finishing this fic, I wanted to share this loving art made by @lilianade-comics on Tumblr. Check out this lovely scene from chapter 51 here!

Happy Reading!

Six months later.

“I must have been here a dozen times at least. And your lair still surprises me every time.” Sidney said, eyes surveying the room.

Danny leaned back on his couch, giving a chuckle. “Hey, I’m just working with what I have. I think the Hobbit vibes are pretty cool.”

“I figured you would want something more modern and sci fi.” His friend shrugged.

The halfa raised a brow. “Like an underground bunker? Nah.” He shook his head. “As cool as quarters on the Enterprise would be, or the inside of the TARDIS…. It just didn’t feel right. Plus,” He shrugged. “I like to be comfy.”

“It is definitely that.”

True to what Danny had imagined all those months ago, the underground house was cozy, warm, and homey. Wooden floors and paneling. Circular rooms and round doorways. The furniture was simple, warm, reddish maple-wood beds, chairs, and sofas accenting each room. Multiple rugs covered the floors and carefully selected books filled one book shelf. Other decorative objects and nick-nacks covered the walls, end tables, and other surfaces.

Some were brought from the material realm. One of his model rockets. A blob ghost plush that had been made by his dad. A Black orchid, a gift from Sam, sat in one corner, a Femalien Poster from Tucker on the wall above it. A shadow box with tickets and a glossy photo of the siblings, smiling in their bowties and fezzes with a certain actor; for Christmas his sister had bought him tickets to Comic Con and a Meet and Greet with Doctor Who actor Matt Smith.

Some objects were picked up from various trips through the Realms. There was a black and white lamp from Sidney’s lair that gave off gray light. A drum head on the wall sported an animated image of blue fire; he’d gotten that when Johnny and Kitty had taken him to see their friend Ember perform.

And some were manifested by the lair itself. A painting of a The Library with swirling spectral clouds in the background. Snow globes from different places he’d visited: Sid’s lair, The Library, Dora’s kingdom, Ember’s concert hall venue. And…. the halfa smiled softly at this last object… photo of his family and two best friends, Danny grinning in the middle in ghost form.

“Jeepers! What is this?!” Sidney’s voice interrupted the half ghost’s musing.

Danny’s gaze flickered to the object of his friend’s attention. “Oh. That? It was a Christmas present from Mom.” He jabbed a thumb at the kitchen counter where a ceramic cookie jar sported half a dozen eyes and pointy teeth around the lid, threatening approaching hands. He grinned. “It’s a Mimic.”

“A Mimic…” For just a moment, Sidney’s black and white brow wrinkled. Then… “Like from that Dungeon and Dragons game Tucker told me about?!”

“Yep.” Danny nodded.

“Fighting a monster like that… that must be the bee’s knees!” The half ghost could practically see the stars in his friend’s eyes.

“You’re still invited to our games any time you want to join.” Danny raised a brow.

“This section of the Realms needs its own group.” Sidney crossed his arms, pouting slightly.

“Dora might like it… and Ember.” The half ghost grinned toothily. “She’s already literally a bard.” He tapped his chin. “Maybe we can get Ghost Writer to let us use a room in his lair.”

“The Library is not the most convenient location though; it’s far away from everyone but me.”

“Hum.” Danny’s brow furrowed, considering. “That’s fair.” Sidney’s lair was the closest to the Library by far. But the other’s…. Ember’s lair was about the same distance from the portal as Sidney’s, except in the exact opposite direction. And Dora’s lair was vaguely below his, a leisurely forty-five minute flight down. If anything…. Danny blinked. “I’m in the middle.”

“You sure are, buster.” Sidney raised a brow, looking at him as if it was obvious.

The half ghost took a second to process and then laughed. “It’s always like that, huh?”

Getting in between the Lunch Lady and his friends. Helping Dora and other ghosts get back to the portal. Making friends with people in this part of the Zone. He rolled his eyes at the irony. The literal half ghost always stuck in the middle. Or rather… maybe he’d chosen to place himself there.

“So I guess we’d meet here. Or…” An idea had been swimming around in his head. A place for the ghosts on this side of the portal to gather, to bond, to help each other and…. “So I’d been thinking-”

Just then, the black rectangular device clipped to the belt of Danny’s suit chimed. “Oh. That’s probably my parents.” He detached the communicator– made by his parents, with Tucker’s help, to work across dimensions and designed to look like the ones from Star Trek– and flipped it open.

His brow furrowed. “I’m not late for dinner, am I? Didn’t think I’d been gone that long.”

“No sweetie.” His mom’s voice sounded from the other end. “I’m sorry to interrupt your hang-out with Sidney. But Mr. Jenkins called from the Salvage Yard about a ghost problem.”

The boy sighed, head rolling back on the couch to look up at the ceiling. “Is it Technus again?”

“It sounded like it.” The wince was almost audible in her voice. “Your father and I would go but Mr. Jenkins asked for Phantom… very insistently.”

Another sigh. “I’ll be right there.” Danny hung up, putting the communicator back on his belt before burying his head in his hand.

“Technus again?” Sidney rose a brow.

The halfa looked up, fixing an eye on his friend. “ I mean, I’m fine with him hanging out in the material world and tinkering with stuff. But…” The halfa groaned. “He keeps trying to blow things up the salvage yard.”

The ghostly nerd chuckled. “All that new fangled modern technology…. That beatnik must think he died and gone to heaven.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “He will if I have to tell him to stop stealing other people’s stuff one more time.”

Sidney shook his head. “You know it’s hard to keep a ghost from his obsession.” Then tapping his chin, he mused. “But maybe if he had his own place to experiment…”

“Hum…” Danny furrowed his brow, considering. He floated up. “Gotta go.” He pointed at the black and white ghost. “I’m serious, you should come to our D&D games next Saturday. Think about it?”

“I will.” The other ghost nodded, also rising. “See you later.”

The two exited through the lair’s door, Sidney flying into the green atmosphere of the Zone. Danny flew up, towards the portal. The clear dome around the structure parted with his presence and he entered.

The boy drifted over the carefully cultivated plants, a particularly energetic snap-dragon snapping at his heel. “Hey! I don’t have time to play right now.” He bent down, patting the petly approximation of a draconic head.

Danny stood again and continued, passing the beds of black lettuce. A ghostly blue lizard darted between the squash vines. In the flowering tiger shrub, a tiny green bird cooed. Other plants were scattered over the area, glowing insects, some as large as his fist, buzzing over them. The boy couldn’t help but smile. Only six months and there was already so much after-life here on his little island.

The half ghost arrived in the middle, the frame of the portal surprisingly at home among the vegetation. Though… green no longer swirled in the frame; instead, black and yellow painted doors blocked the entrance. His parents had installed a set on either side to keep out unwanted visitors.

But Danny, of course, wasn’t an unwanted visitor. With a quick scan of his palm on the panel beside the door, they parted. He flew through, just as the doors on the human-world side opened too.

At the sound, both parents looked up from their work. “Danny-boy!” His dad smiled with a wave. “You want one of us to come with you?”

“Nah. I’m just gonna try and talk to Technus again.” The halfa waved off the concern. He floated up, towards the ceiling.

His dad looked almost disappointed at the decline; trust Jack Fenton to always be ready and eager to soak an annoyance in ectoplasmic goo, whether they were ghost or human. Still both adults accepted the statement.

“Knock his socks off, son! And be careful!” “We’ll do great, sweetie! Call us if you need anything!”

With his parents’ words of encouragement rising in his ears, Danny phased through the ceiling and zoomed off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Banging, clanging, and shouting rang through Mr. Jenkins’ Salvage Yard.

“It’s finished!” Maniacal laughing sounded “Finally finished! I-”

“Finished?! What in tarnation even is-.” A sudden crash. “Woah!’”

“Ah. A few more finishing touches and…” A sparking, sizzling hiss…

“Where did you get a welding gun? Wait! Is that my coffee maker?!”

The ghost scoffed. “It’s not like you were using it.”

“I used it this mornin’, you-”

Danny arrived just as Technus flipped up his face shield. “Tada! My greatest creation!” The ghost spread his arms, grinning proudly.

“You stole my French Press!” Mr. Jenkins yelled.

“Ghost Child!” The adult ghost ignored him, eyes lighting up at Phantom’s arrival. “You arrived just in time to watch!”

Danny fixed Technus with a skeptical look. “What’s going on here?”

“As I was saying, I Technus! Master of all things electronic and beeping have finished my greatest creation yet!” The ghost motioned again, to a tracker-trailer sized collection of mismatched metal parts.

Well, that wasn’t here the last time. “Technus… where did you get all this stuff?”

Just then, a frantic woman came running out of the square building sitting among all the old cars. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Jenkins. I don’t understand how, but the office phone is gone. So are the fax machine and the microwave. And all the computers and-” Her eyes widened, voice squeaking as she spotted Technus. “Not you again!”

“That’s my computer?!” Jenkin’s eyes bulged, his face turning red. “I already told you, this ain’t a junkyard. You can’t take whatever you want!”

“These machines are just sitting here, wasting away! I had to do something with all this beautiful technology.”

“What’s it even supposed to be!?”

“An ingenious invention! And greatly needed!” The green skinned ghost held a finger up. “What kind of junk yard doesn’t have a car-crusher?”

“You’re nuttier than a fruitcake.” Jenkins pointed accusingly at Technus. “This ain’t no junk yard! We’re a salvage yard. We sell used parts!”

“Salvage yard.” Technus rolled his eyes. “That’s ridiculous. You’re just jealous of my brilliance, old man!”

“At least I made it past half a century!” The older man spat.

“I, Technus! Made it to 52, thank you very much! 52 years and then felled by my own unstable experiment! Oh, to die in the pursuit of science! What a glorious send-off! And don’t you know about that, Halfa child! Still wearing that hip and sweet hazmat suit-”

“We are not talking about my death.” Danny interrupted pointedly. “Now-”

“Of course! Enough of this. You came to see my genius!” The mad scientist darted around the metal monstrosity, lab coat flapping behind him.

“Phantom! Stop him!” Mr. Jenkins cried.

“You heard him, Technus.” The ghost boy crossed his arms. “Don’t make me get out the thermos.”

The older ghost ignored the reprimanded, eagerly grabbing at the machine’s controls. “First! The claw will shoot out and snag the car we want. Now which one…” His brow furrowed, then turning and pointing at a red, old-looking convertible. “Ah! That sad sorry hunk of junk will do.”

“Technus! We talked about this!” Danny drove forward, arms out to pull the other ghost away from the controls.

At the same time… “ No! That’s-” Mr. Jenkins sounded panicked.

Danny surged forward but faster than he could process, the mad scientist blinked out of the way. He missed, tumbling in the air and barely missing the side of the car-crushed machine.

The clawed arm lashed out, clamping around the truck. The metal fingers snapped closed with an agonizing crunch of metal and glass.

“Must be out of practice.” Danny mumbled. Then, he lit his hands with ecto-energy, “Technus, I’m warning you!”

“And now! My hyper-efficient car-crusher will reduce this rust bucket to scrap in seconds!” The other ghost laughed maniacally, jamming one of the lever’s down.

“No! No! No!” Mr. Jenkins sounded near… tears?

The arm pulled the car forward, the headlights meeting the jaws of the crusher with a stomach-turning crunch.

“Look! My funky fresh creation is working perfectly!”

The ghost boy let his shot lose, the ecto-energy knocking the other ghost away.

“No! That’s my car!!” Mr. Jenkins fell to his knees.

Danny darted in front of the control panel. His eyes widened. So many buttons, nobs, and levers…. Lights blinked in front of him. Frantic, the boy jabbed at different controls.

“My Oldsmobile!” Beside him, Mr. Jenkins was definitely crying. “That was Pa’s. Me and Pa fixed it up before he passed. No!”

The halfa’s eyes flashed. “How do you turn this thing off?” He turned to the other ghost, demanding.

Technus floated there for a moment, eyes wide and startled. He stared, the previous mad joy completely evaporated, even as he took in his invention. After a blink, his gaze moved from the machine to the devastated human man. The ghost’s face scrunched up, brow wrinkling. Then…

He flew back to the controls. Wordlessly, the mad scientist pushed a series of buttons, metal crunching uglily all the while. He pulled a final lever and the sound of gears and breaking glass stopped.

Quiet fell and Danny sighed, shoulders untensing. Still, he nervously fingered at the thermo’s lid. “Technus, you know I don’t have any problem with you hanging around Amity Park. Tinkering by itself is fine. But when you start taking other people’s things and destroying property…. I can’t let that stand.”

“But it’s just an old car…” The older ghost fixed his head down, voice oddly subdued.

“It’s Mr. Jenkins’ car.” Danny pointed. “It belongs to him.” His tone sharpened. “I wouldn’t come in your lair and mess with your laboratory. Take your inventions without asking. You can’t do that to Mr. Jenkins.”

A long, tense pause fell over the yard. The sound of gravel shifting at the human man stood, as his assistant nervously shuffled. Danny could feel both adult’s eyes on him but his own gaze was fixed on the ghost and his tight, unreadable expression. Technus had stopped the crusher but… why? Did he understand? The boy’s stomach turned, anxiously hoping. That the ghost had listened, that he could find a peaceful resolution.

Technus’s grip on the control panel’s levers tightened. “It seems, I, Technus, made an error. The first tenant of the scientific method…. I failed to gather all the important background information.”

Mr. Jenkins looked up, angrily whipping his face. “You don’t say.”

“I got so excited, I forgot to ask for permission to use the junk…”

“Hey! It’s not-” The human started objecting.

“Or to think about whether the invention would be useful here. I mean, who ever heard of a junkyard without a car-crusher? But apparently, you don’t need one. Which does not make any sense to me. Still, I should not have taken your things and-”

“That’s all fine and good. But my car’s still trashed.” Jenkins interrupted, scowling at the crushed vehicle.

“An honest mistake.” Technus winced. “And…” He held up a finger. “Give me a second.” He darted over to the wreckage. “Here, let me…”

The mad scientist ghost waved his hands over the debris. His aura sparked, spreading out and enveloping the twisted metal and shards of glass. The pieces trembled slightly, rising with a jerk. Technus’ fingers moved as if he was counting, typing, or playing an instrument. The wreckage floated and flowed, swirling in the air and coming together. It coalesced into…

“Well I’ll be damned.” Mr. Jenkins said breathily.

Danny’s eyes widened, just as amazed. “How? You… you-”

“Fixed it!” Technus swung around, arms spread. “I fixed it!”

Sure enough, the car sat in front of them, whole and intact.

The on-lookers just blinked for a long moment. Then…

“My car!” Mr. Jenkins practically ran forward. “Bessie! You’re alright!” He flopped onto the hood, arms spreading wide as if hugging the vehicle. “Better than alright!” Eyes wide and gleeful, he wiped at a spot over the headlights. “That blasted scratch is gone!”

The human man kept cooing over his car and Danny laughed. “He’s worse than my dad with the GEV.” The boy rolled his eyes. Then… “Seriously though. Putting it back together like that…. that was incredible, Technus. Thank you for fixing this.”

“Pst.” The ghost shrugged off the thanks. “It was child’s play!” He laughed almost maniacally.

“Can you uh… put back the rest of the office?” The assistant asked meekly.

Technus’ eyes flickered to her, briefly looking disappointed, before he scoffed. “Can I put the rest of the office back?” He waved his arms, green light again spreading and enveloping the metal pieces. “Easier than differential calculus. Can I, Technus, master of all things mechanical, put it back? Please.”

The different pieces separated, flying off in seemingly random directions, while the mad scientist mumbled to himself.

Meanwhile, Mr. Jenkins looked up from his car. “I didn’t know you could fix things like this, Technus. Incredible!” He popped open the trunk, gaze flickering over the various parts. “She’s as good as new.” He reached inside, tapping something. “Say. One of the new tow-trucks is acting squirrely. Some kind of malfunction with that fancy new, space-age onboard computers. Can’t make head ‘r tails of it. Take a look and maybe I can find some spare parts for you to tinker with.”

Parts continued to swirl away, the car-crusher growing smaller and smaller. Technus tapped his chin. “Is this a problem worthy of I! Technus’ vast expertise!?”

For a moment, both Mr. Jenkins and his assistant looked worried, concerned eyes searching Danny.

The ghost boy nodded sagely. “Of course! Computer technology is so advanced now. Especially in cars! They definitely need someone as genius as you to fix it. Plus free parts!” The half ghost spread his arms. “You can’t pass up a deal like that!”

“You’re right, Ghost Child!” With a final flourish, the last remnants of the disastrous car crusher vanished, the components returning to their proper places. “Come Jenkins!” The mad scientist quickly floated away. “Show me this tow-truck!”

“Not so fast! We mere humans can’t fly!” The human man jogged after.

Danny gave another chuckle at the pair. He flew after them.

“Here it is.” Mr. Jenkins panted, motioning to the car. He unlocked the door and slid into the seat. “The problem is, anytime I start up the car…” He pressed the ignition. “See?”

The ghost nodded from where he leaned over, observing. “Ah! That is confounding! First, let me try…”

The half ghost watched two for several minutes. His eyes slowly widened, anxious core lossening. The two talked and hypothesized, bouncing ideas off of each other.

“Try it again.” Technus instructed.

Mr. Jenkins pressed the start button again. A pause. “Well, I’ll be.”

The mad scientist laughed. “I told you, old geezer. No electronical problem can overcome my genius!”

The human rolled his eyes, good naturedly. “Old geezer? Ya didn’t know what a computer was until last month.”

They were… getting along? “This is great! See.” Danny gave an encouraging smile and spread his arms. “Technus can help you out with stuff like this and you can give him some spare parts to work with. How does that sound, Mr Jenkins? Technus?”

The human tapped his chin. “You know, my brother’s got an auto shop. He’s always needin’ help. Maybe we can work something out.”

“I’m listening…” The green-skinned ghost nodded, face serious. Even as his aura flickered excitedly.

“I’ll give Perry a call and…”

The two talked for a few more minutes. Hope bloomed in Danny’s heart, a smile slowly parting his lips. They had this. Coming up with a compromise together. Without him. In fact…

The ghost boy turned to leave. “I’m going to go check on your assistant and everything in the office. Shout if you need me.”

The two barely acknowledged him, simply waving as they both chuckled over something.

Danny flew away, shaking his head. Moments later, he knocked at the office door. “It’s Phantom.”

There was a shout to enter and the boy did so. His eyes flickered over the room. Slightly disarrayed but… there was the microwave, the phone, the computer.

The assistant looked up from the desk. “Mr. Jenkins is okay, right? I haven’t heard any screaming recently.”

Danny laughed. “Yeah, he’s fine. Him and Technus are working out tech-help for spare parts.”

The woman blanched. “Is that wise?”

The boy nodded. “Giving the guy something to focus on will be good for him. And I’m sure Mr. Jenkins could use the help.”

The assistant’s brow furrowed thoughtfully. “I guess you have a point.” Her face smoothed out, smiling gratefully at him. “Thank you, by the way, for coming and helping with all this.”

“It’s just what I do.” Danny shrugged. “No big deal.”

“Seriously. This all wouldn’t still be standing without you.” She motioned around her vaguely. “We’d be in a mess without you, Phantom.”

“Well then…” The boy blushed at the praise. “You’re welcome… uh, I don’t know your name.”

“It’s Nancy.” She smiled.

“Nancy.” Danny gave a nod. “Everything’s good here so I’m going to head out. Give FentonWorks a call if you need anything.”

“I will.”

With a wave, the half ghost drifted up and phased through the ceiling. He flew over the salvage yard, catching a glimpse of the two men, one human and one ghost. Mr. Jenkins leaned against the vehicle, arms crossed casually. Technus floated, head lifted to the sky. His unique brand of laughter carried on the wind, the human’s hearty chuckle just as real and vibrant below it.

Danny beamed down at the scene. “Yeah. They’re going to be fine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny returned home to his ghost researcher parents, both proudly congratulating him on peacefully dealing with Technus. After which of course, both had to blather on about their latest inventions. The boy fondly rolled his eyes.

He tried to invisibly sneak up on his big sister, the super-powered little brother’s prerogative. To his chagrin, he was unsuccessful though; before he could even think of turning her chair intangible, she turned the spray bottle on him like he was a misbehaving cat.

He logged onto Doom and played with his best friends. The boss of the current level decimated their party three times before they gave up for now and started on a new side quest. All the while, they talked about new movies, rumors and gossip at school, Ember’s upcoming concert, and convincing Sidney to join them for D&D.

Family and friends. Ghosts and humans and the two somehow, miraculously existing together. All this and more, in a day in the life of a half ghost.

And now, during the darkest part of the night, that eerie time between the late night and early morning, the Haunting Hour. Now, Danny Fenton-Phantom floated on his back, suspended in the air above the Ops Center.

Blobby snuggled against him, tiny paws kneading biscuits into his side. The smaller ghost purred loudly, now firmly settled into something between a very cat-like blob and a blob-like cat. The boy gently stroked his pet, idly scrolling through his phone.

A text notification pinged and Danny laughed, typing back.

Danny: that’s the most cursed meme i’ve ever seen

Another cursed follow up. And another. Danny snorted, sending his own.

Tucker: 😵 ☠️ Deed. Y u stil up thoigh?

Danny: Dude it’s spooky hour. Getting my haunt on.

Tucker: U lucky basterd. Ony need 4 hrs of skeep

Danny: 😜 Y r u still up?

Tucker: Doom. newd new armor.

Tucker: 😵 stupd skelton killed me😭

Danny: Go to sleep!

Tucker: Neverrttt5454er66wreeqwsd

Danny: ?

Tucker: dropped phome on my face

Tucker: maybe i shoud slep

Danny: You think? 🤨

Tucker: One more meme!

Tucker: Phantomceiling.mov

Tucker: wrong file. 😴🥱😫 Sry. Gd night Danny

Danny laughed softly, shaking his head at his sleepy friend. He could imagine it, Tucker half-way across town, drifting off at his computer, gaming with one hand and texting with the other. No wonder the skeletons, the freaking easiest monster in the game, managed to kill him.

And he sent a random video? Danny tilted his head at the file name, pressing play.

“Woah!” Tucker’s excited voice cheered.

The camera shifted wildly, a blurry tan surface covering the screen. The crispness of the image wavered, in and out until…. tiny, glow-in-the-dark stars shifted into focus. On the… ceiling? Why did Tucker have a video of his bedroom ceiling?

“I can’t even believe this, I’m floating!” This friend’s voice cheered.

The half ghost’s eyes widened, suddenly remembering. This video, the one Tucker made while swinging from the ceiling. Meaning….

The image titled, pointed directly above and… Black suit, white hair, sparkling green eyes paned into view. Danny felt his heart squeeze.

“Say hi, Danny.” Tucker laughed.

“Hi Danny.” The ghost stuck out his tongue, giving a wave.

“Hi Phantom.” The boy smiled softly, waving back.

This video… he’d forgotten about it completely. Hadn’t even realized they had any video from when he was split, all those months ago. And now…

On the screen, Tucker grunted in effort, Phantom’s face deceptively even, eyes twinkling with suppressed mirth.

And now, Danny could remember it like it was yesterday. His feet planted firmly on the ceiling, one hand in Tucker’s, his familiar weightlessness spread through the contact. That was him, trying to hold back his laughter. And yet…

“Come… on.” His friend shouted in frustration. “Come on!” Two voices burst out in laughter, one higher pitched- obviously Sam. And the other….

The camera panned. Black hair, blue eyes pinched closed, mouth open with his laughter.

“Hi, Fenton.” His eyes crinkled, a fond mirth.

Danny remembered this too. Busting a gut at a constipated-looking Tucker, bent over with his chortles, Sam rolling her eyes at his comment. That was him. And yet…

After re-fusing, it had felt like he’d been asleep for a long time. Like he hadn’t really been present; it was all a dream. And yet, he had been right there. He remembered everything. It was like he told Jazz, all those months ago. He was Phantom and Fenton. Fenton and Phantom had been him. And yet he, the Danny thinking this thought, hadn’t really been there. But now….

The video continued, the camera passed around as Tucker cheered, swinging like a pendulum. As Sam had her turn, laughing hysterically the entire time. As Jazz screamed to be put down, before admitting that it wasn’t so bad. All the while, Danny chuckled at the scene. His smile grew, something soft and precious and fond.

“Wait… how?” Tucker wrinkled his brow. “I don’t get it.”

“He’s tapping into our powers.” Phantom righted himself in the air. “I mean, I’m the ghost so I’m technically the one with the powers right now. But we’re still the same person.”

“So I can kinda use them if we’re touching.” Fenton explained. “I uhh… actually turned myself intangible last night, when Phantom did it and I was touching him.”

The video ended there, Fenton and Phantom side by side. The human’s brow wrinkled in thought. The ghost mid-nod, agreeing.

And Danny’s heart squeezed, something nostalgic. “Guys. We made it.” A finger brushed the screen. As if he could reach back to then and reassure both halves of himself. “We made it.”

Danny remembered that day where it started. Sitting with his friends, his burger falling through his hands. That was the final straw, the moment that changed everything. It led to his fateful decision to go through the ghost catcher. A bad decision but it had left him all the better. It had taught him many hard won lessons, changing the way he saw his friends, his parents, and most importantly himself.

And those lessons…. Danny remembered, his dream the night he re-merged.

“I’m going to be okay.” A soft, swirling gratitude. “I won’t forget what I learned when I was you guys. I’ll remember.”

Danny hadn’t forgotten. He’d come back to himself, like finally coming home. And he’d found that he was more. More than just Phantom plus Fenton. More than just human plus ghost.

Letting out a sigh, the ghost boy lowered himself in the air, down to the roof of the Ops Center. To the camping chair left out here for his nightly star gazing. Blobby curled into his lap, the halfa giving gentle pets. His head drifted up, towards the sky.

And he let himself remember his last night as two halves of himself.

Danny closed his eyes and he was back there. Sitting side by side. Pointing out constellations and telling stories, one arm around his other half. And at the same time, drifting off to sleep to the echoing voice, his body comfortably leaned against the familiar chilly presence.

“Hey, I’m very witty. You just happen to share my brain.” The ghost grinned, roughly ruffling his counterpart’s hair. “Can’t get one over on you, can I?”

“I’m the pun master.” Fenton chuckled, leaning into the touch.

“You’re annoying, that’s what you are.” Phantom teased.

A chuckle at the memory. Seeing this from both sides really shouldn’t make sense. Yet it couldn’t be more clear…

“I love you too.” The human muttered, rolling his eyes.

The ghost stilled, his free hand dropping out of the black hair. His core squeezed, jovial teasing giving way to a soft and quiet joy. The tiredness radiated off of his other self, heavy enough that he was starting to get silly. But those words…. Every syllable was real.

Phantom breathed. Teasing and joking was familiar, comfortable even. He was even used to transparency, tender honesty. But this…. The arm still around his human half tightened, his free arm circling around Fenton’s front. He had said earlier, if they had anything else to say to each other while they were still split, they should say it.

Ghost Danny completed the hug. “I do love you.”

Back on the roof, Danny’s hand tenderly rested over his heart-core. Maybe if anyone else had seen that moment, he’d feel embarrassed, ashamed. But that moment was just for him. That same soft and quiet joy rose, quivering in his chest. Splitting himself had let Danny see himself in new ways. He’d learned so much. He’d grown to know, accept, appreciate, and, yes, love both halves of himself. As strange as it was to say, Fenton and Phantom had loved each other.

An overbearing gratitude washed over him at that. Gratitude that they (that he) had been brave enough to voice that, to give him this memory. This proof, this reminder of how far he’d come. Of all he’d learned.

He had suffered and struggled and agonized. He had fought with his own self-hatred and doubt, his shame and fear, with the painful reminders of his death. But with the love and support of his parents, sister, and friends, he had overcome. He had learned and grown and changed. The transformation itself hurt and terrified him. But he had risen above it. And now. Now Danny loved who he had become.

And who had he become? What did loving himself mean now, with his heart and core nestled together, where they belonged? It meant taking care of himself. Letting his friends and family know him and love him. Loving other people. It meant eating enough– both ecto and regular food-, sleeping well, watching the stars during his Haunting Hour. Spending time with his loved ones and letting them share his burdens. Helping others as Danny Phantom.

He saved humans in the town with his powers when ghost animals appeared or over-enthusiastic ghosts wouldn’t listen. He helped lost ghosts find their way back to the portal. He worked to find ways for humans and ghosts to exist together.

The idea from when he’d been talking to Sidney earlier flickered in his mind. A shared place for the ghosts on this side of the portal to gather, to bond, to help each other. A kind of Sanctuary, that was his dream.

That first time he’d almost fused, before telling his parents about Phantom, he’d dreamed of the human in the ghostly, ghostly in the human. He’d imagined truly being both. And now Danny found he was. The life he wanted was here, in the life he was building.

Danny unlocked his phone again, taking the image of Fenton and Phantom side by side. “We’ve come so far.” His eyes softened, full of awe and gratitude. “I said it before, in that dream. I’m happy I was both of you. And thank you for working to grow into who I am now.”

In his lab, Blobby mewed, head jerking up at something in the sky. The half ghost looked, eyes widening. A shooting star, streaming across the vibrantly deep sky.

His core fluttered in time with his heart, swelling with hope. Danny smiled. “Here’s to whatever comes next.”

Note: Thank you all for reading! Whether you joined me at the beginning back in 2019, you started following only recently, or you're binging at some point in the future, I appreciate you! I would never have written this story, let alone finished it, without all the kind comments on here and fanfiction.net, Tumblr reblogs and rambles in the tags, and DMs on Tumblr and Discord. If you ever talked to me about this story, offered your support and encouragement, I am so thankful to you. I am so thankful for the friendships I've found through this fic and for how much I've grown as a writer.

As always, I would love to hear your thoughts on this chapter and the story as a whole. I love and appreciate you all!

#Danny Phantom #Face to Face #Double Danny #Split Danny #My Fic

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