#(oxo) rabbit in the headlights: william & vanessa.

[runelocked]

❝ you passed out, i carried you here. ❞ — vanessa @hazardess , but she’s bitter about it

FEVERISH  MUTTERING  HAD  HAUNTED  HIM  ALL NIGHT,  ALL DAY,  AND  THE  LAST  MEMORY  HE  HAS  IS  LEAVING  THE  PIZZERIA,  still  shivering  uncontrollably  in  the  heat  of  the  sticky  summer  sun.  Head  aching,  angrily  waving  off  his  daughter’s  questions:  I’m  fine,  he  remembers  snapping,  more  of  a  groan  than  anything  else,  I  just  need  air.  Don’t  you  even think about. . .  

The  rest  is  a  sliding,  slippery  blur.  Despite  everything  he’s  done  and  the  lengths  he’s  gone  to,  it  seems  he’s  still  just  as  human  as  ever.

That’s  the  really  terrifying  part.

He  can  barely  even  face  lifting  his  head  from  the  makeshift  pillow  Vanessa  has  propped  under  him,  the  whole  world  tilting  precariously  on  an  axis  of  its  own  bearing.  But  he  does:  persists  in  rising,  his  pale  face  ghostly  and  off - color.  Even  trying  to  keep  his  daughter  in  focus  hurts.  She  blurs  in  front  of  him,  fades  in  and  out  between  the  little  girl  he’d  initially  doted  on  and  the  young  woman  he  knows  logically  that  she  is.  Is  this  his  fever - addled  brain  trying  to  offer  him  a  reprieve  from  the  disappointment  he  feels  his  daughter  has  become ?  –  Clumsily  reaches  out  for  her,  words  heavy  and  absent.

“ ‘S  a  good  girl,  Ness.  Always  so  helpful. ”  Her  father’s  right  hand  man,  through  and  through.  Remembers  getting  her  to  hold  his  tools  as  he’d  painstakingly  built  that  old  Spring - Bonnie  suit,  his  pride  and  joy;  remembers  more  recently  handing  her  his  knife  to  wash.  Clean  that  up  for  me.  We’ve  done  well  today.  Both  killers.  Nobody  suspects  him,  of  course  they  don’t.  Confident  words  and  faux  charming  smile  keeping  him  out  of  public  scrutiny,  the  loss  of  his  own  son  only  years  before  at  the  hands  of  his  daughter.  

He  smiles  that  same  smile  now,  but  it’s  pathetic.  Laden  with  the  sudden  realization  he  feels  helpless  for  the  first  time  in  a  long  time.  If  she’d  wanted  to  kill  him,  she  could  have.  Ended  it  all.  He  wouldn’t  have  even  known.  Maybe  that’s  why  he  addresses  her  now,  in  an  exhausted  facsimile  of  love  he’d  once  shown  her  as  a  young  child.  “ Help  me  stand.  [...]  How  long ‘s  it  been ? ”   How  long  has  he  been  lying  there,  human,  vulnerable ?  How  long  has  she  been  watching  over  him;  how  long  has  she  served  her  duty  to  him  loyally  today ?

[runelocked]

@hazardess !

I don't regret it, but it's sad anyway

Now we're both dead and scared of the black.

[runelocked]

@hazardess : Dad…?

[ hear me out, he’s still stabbed/hurt her in some way, but it’s a time before the events of the movie, and it’s just the two of them, and there’s nothing else to distract from what just happened ]

HE DOESN’T LET GO OF HER. THERE’S A BODY ON THE FLOOR BETWEEN THEM AND EVEN THOUGH HE THINKS SHE’LL BE JOINING IT SOON, SHE’S AN AFTON. His girl, his Nessa. She deserves better than lying on the ground, discarded like a useless tool. A dog without a purpose. He won’t let her fall.

It’s not his fault. That’s a comfort, even as he holds her, carefully, like he had as a child when she’d scraped her knee or bumped her head. It’s not his fault he’d stabbed her. She’d interfered with his work, endangered his life. Gone against his wishes. Tried to grab him while he finished off the security guard, and he’d reacted accordingly. Automatically. It’s not his fault!———

And yet guilt creeps in anyway. Shock, undiluted, blooming over the anger and frustration. William’s hands never slacken as he holds her, and his face doesn’t change one bit, but his eyes are wide. Disbelieving. Shameful.

“ What have you done ? ” He murmurs. What did you make me do ?

[runelocked]

STAY DOWN. HE OBEYS, NOT BECAUSE HE’S LISTENING, BUT BECAUSE THE ANGER THAT WASHES OVER HIM AT HER WORDS LEAVES HIM TOO DIZZY TO STAND. He’d been ill all the time as a child too, always the smallest and sickliest — runt of the litter, he remembers thinking, and even back then, seven or eight, his cheeks had been awash in bitter hurt pride — and he’s supposed to be more than that, now. More than human.

Here’s humanity: the father’s legs buckle and he’s forced to sink back to the bed, the world dripping in his vision like the blood marring his hands. The daughter stands tall, for now, for once above him. “ Fine, ” he tells her, growls, because he knows they both know it’s a damn lie, “ I told you before. Needed fresh air. ”

The room does feel suffocating, so it’s not entirely false. Even more so when his lungs gasp for air like it’s a diminishing resource, leaving the breaths he takes wheezing, disorienting. The whole situation is — his daughter in front of her, her young childish face full of love and concern, holding his hand: Dad ? Are you okay ?

“ I’m alright, Ness. Just feeling a little tired. ” ( His answer to his little girl is always softer than to his real daughter. Some things never change. )

He’s always lied to her. As a child and as an adult. William’s head spins, and the thought of lying down and drowning the world out sounds great, but he’s got work to do. And he’s got a reputation to keep. And his daughter shouldn’t see him like this. This is pathetic enough. Damp with sweat and cold with urgency, he goes to stand again: pitches forward, almost onto the floor, if he hadn’t managed to balance himself in time. Fuck, he’s warm. “ Can you — ” First warning. When has he ever asked her for anything when he could take it instead? “ — get your Mom for me ? Be a good girl. ”

Stand up straighter. Stop smiling like that. It’s time you grew up. You’re going to hold this for me. Lie down, play dead. Bad dog. He hasn’t mentioned her mother in a long time. Drowsy eyes lift, only half certain of who he’s looking at, try to find hers amidst the tilting, teetering world. Be good.

CONTINUED. / @hazardess

[runelocked]

you're just as broken as i am. / vanny for reverse au bc i'm fucking insane

SWEAT SOAKED SKIN GLISTENS, PALER UNDER LAMP LIGHT. Another nightmare. Moments of lucidity snatched between blurry images of a life, a man, a puppet gone rogue, and all William can do is revel in her touch. So glad not to be alone. Wishing he could sink a knife under her ribs despite this gratitude. He wants her dead. He wants her. He wants to crawl inside her skin and be her. He wants his life back. Doesn’t know what life is without her. How long has it been they’ve been dancing this dance ? A week ? A decade ? Does it even fucking matter ? ———

He doesn’t reply for a long moment. Throat rough and unused. A smile twitches on his lips until he realizes he’s forgotten what it’s supposed to look like, and he lets it fall again. “ Broken, ” he repeats, prickly, fingers like claws digging into his arms, needling and pressing, “ and I suppose you think — we’re the same then. That we’re some kind of kindred spirits. ” He’d laugh if he hadn’t felt like such a kicked puppy: his body is his own, and always is, even if he finds his senses sometimes snatched away by her. ( Hates himself for wishing she’d keep him under her control deeper than ever. Lucidity is humiliating, humbling. )

[runelocked]

WHOSE MOTHER ? WILLIAM’S FEVERED MIND CAN’T REMEMBER. HER MOTHER ? HIS ? DOES HE HAVE A MOTHER ? The word comes with vague connections: the smell of fresh laundry, the sound of a lavender perfume spray, a quiet accented voice. It’s alright, bunny. You’ll be okay. The image dissolves with no remorse and leaves him hanging alone again.

Not alone. Nessa stands studiously, back turned. Giving him some privacy. Always respect your elders, don’t you forget it. For a second, gratitude eats him alive: she’s so good to him. So diligent. He loves his daughter, loves her to death.

Mom’s not here. Then her words come back to him, and he’s not so grateful. Takes a rattled breath instead, and then another, because he has to. And then he rises. Slowly, weakly. He’s barely fifty and feels so much older for the first time. But like a cockroach from the ashes of the world he stays standing, eyes pinching closed in tight aching pain. Steady. Steady.

“ Coffee, ” he says plainly, “ please. ”

He doesn’t exactly command authority like this. That’s when the gratefulness returns, because with Vanessa, she knows him well enough, he’s trained her long enough, to know that authority doesn’t really matter. A dog obeys an owner. This is a very old tale.

“ And don’t mention her again. ”

( His ex-wife’s name cuts deep. Draws blood from his heart. If he ignores the fact he was the one who brought her up, he can almost dredge up anger against his daughter. )

CONTINUED. / @hazardess

[runelocked]

💬 + rumour has it you can’t count ! (from @hazardess <3)

SEND 💬 & A RUMOR AND MY MUSE WILL REACT TO IT / ALWAYS ACCEPTING!

IF LOOKS COULD KILL, VANESSA WOULD HAVE JOINED HER FATHER’S OTHER VICTIMS. Luckily for her, his scowl deepens, but cannot harm her: unluckily for her, his words can.

“ Rumor has it you’ve always been some level of disappointing to me,” he replies candidly, and the sheer petty spite in his voice betrays his indignation at her accusation accurate though it is! “At the end of the day, I can learn math. You, however, will always be a failure. ”

[runelocked]

✔ ( @hazardess )

SEND ✔️ AND I WILL BOLD MY PREFERENCES FOR YOUR MUSE! / ALWAYS ACCEPTING

My muse: william :3

Do I know your muse: yes | no | a little | tell me about your muse

Setting: our verse | my verse | your verse | modern | alternate verse | other

Pre-established relationship: yes | no | depends on the relationship

Possible relationships: friends | classmates | co-worker | roommate | family, biological or adopted | dating or blind date | married | friends with benefits | unrequited love | lending a hand | teacher - student always insane of the idea of vanessa being forced to help her dad out | rivals | allies | partner-in-crime | enemies | protector - guarded | business partners | spy - infiltrated could be fun | manipulator - manipulated | star-crossed | first meeting | other

I’m in the mood for: fluff | angst | horror | romance | humour | crime | hurt / comfort | action | supernatural | slice of life | crack | dark threads | light threads | any genre | multi-para | shorter para | one-line | any length | plotted threads | unplotted threads | other

Feel free to: message me ooc | message me ic | tell me your ideas | write a starter | answer one of my opens | send a meme | reblog this with your preferences - let’s find common interests!

[runelocked]

HE’S STRONG ENOUGH TO TAKE ON A FORM IN FRONT OF HER. More solid than when they’d first met — she’s strengthening him in leaps and bounds, his little rabbit, and his pride shows itself in the sharp smile, teeth flashing at her smugly. He’s adopted a jaunty little stance; hands tucked into his pockets, posture relaxed, comfortable. At home in her head.

Vanessa’s struggles are precious, but they’re growing old fast. The malhare — almost corporeal, so close, yet so far — closes the gap between them, ears twitching, those gaping empty eyes leaning forward to try and catch her own. Oh, but he loves it: watching her fight, watching her succumb. If she’d been able to escape, he thinks, a giggle breaking loose from his throat, spiralling into a sickening reality that breaks the sound of her ragged breaths, she would have done so by now! She’s his. …And so he can indulge her these little moments of horror.

“What would you know?” The question comes innocent and soothing, if not for the air of malice lining the creature’s words. It glitches just a little closer — not quite close enough to reach for, but not far off — that grinning ghoulish expression never leaving his face. “You haven’t been yourself in so long. What would you know about yourself, my dear?”

(Is he wrong? His Vanny doesn’t know herself, not anymore. He’s made damn sure of that.)

“If only you’d stop making things so difficult for yourself,” it sighs, and its head tilts; creaks on his shoulders, far too lopsided for anything remotely human, “you could enjoy this, you know. I could show you a world beyond yours. We’d be a team the world would never recover from.”

"THIS IS FOR YOUR OWN GOOD." [ for vanessa ! :eyes: ]

RANDOM DIALOGUE PROMPTS (1/?)

✧ . * ｡ ⋆ — It takes everything in Vanessa not to scream back — the cry caught in her throat, something guttural and raw, torn between rage and anguish. A physical pain to swallow back, the softest of whimpers pushing past her lips instead as she clenches her jaw in some pitiful form of defiance.

Moments where Vanessa feels fully aware of herself are few and far between. She's been locked away in the back of her mind, moving through time in a daze ; not fully gone, though not entirely present. A perfectly moldable tool.

The moments where she does come back to herself are violent.

Fist is curled into blonde tresses, tugging hard as if to assure herself that she's truly here. She's hardly aware of her own surroundings — much more focussed on the entity in her head.

"Shut up! Shut up! Nothing you do is for my good!"

[runelocked]

💬 (for vanessa, @hazardess !!)

SEND A 💬 AND I’LL WRITE A STARTER BASED OFF A SENTENCE MEME I’VE REBLOGGED / ALWAYS ACCEPTING!

❛  Don't you dare tell me you're sorry!  ❜ It bursts out of him before he can stop it: this vicious, vengeful explosion of anger. His hair is wild, a product of pale hands running through it practically all day, and his narrowed grey eyes are clouded with bitter rage. She knows better than to antagonise him like this — and yet every little thing she does is getting on his last nerve. ❛ You have no right. No right. Look at you! Look at what you’ve done to me, to this family. And you’re going to apologise, you’re going to ask me for forgiveness ? ——— Don’t you dare. ❜

[runelocked]

you analysis of william stabbing vanessa makes sm sense and now i’m sad :((

she’s been the chained dog for so long and now she gets to watch him bare his teeth uselessly at ghosts he can’t kill. he’s always got to externalise where she internalised fear, he’s always going to bite the hand that never hurt him and be the hand that always hurts her. there was never any other ending for them etc. slides down a wall

[runelocked]

" please don't spout shit unless you know what you're talking about. " / @reluctaunt

“ NO, NO. YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND, ” William persists, and whether he’s fresh out of college and flung into the future or that possessing, powerful glitch that had infected her, his voice does not change. He’s younger, here, and certainly not a fan of what his future self has done what his older self will do, in years to come but he has to admit, he’s fascinated by it all. How can he not be? Controlling someone else’s body… cheating death… snaring his mind inside a computer virus… It makes him sick to see those hurting from his actions, and yet God, he is so, so curious.

Turns to Vanessa now, uncertain of how to make her see. He understands how she feels. Of course he does. She’s had her entire sense of self violated, ripped from her — and in a way, William tells himself that he has too. Hasn’t he been vilified for the actions of his future self? Hasn’t he suffered exactly like Vanessa has? (You know nothing about what she’s been through, a small part of him snaps, you are not a victim in this place; and yet, he ignores it.) Instead, he stands a little taller, face twisted in something like empathy; gleaming eyes a little too much like the malhare’s, enough that if he could have seen them, William might have reconsidered.

“We’ve both suffered because of his actions, correct? In fact, considering he’s completely stripped away my future, I might say I’ve suffered more.” Winces at how combative it sounds as he exhibits for the first time in the whole conversation! self awareness of his words, and William tries to explain himself. “Which is why I understand you, I mean. Of course I understand. What he did to you was awful. But you’re free now, aren’t you? You can get on with your life freely. Not to say you haven’t been through hell—” (He has no idea) “—but… you’re fine now.”

In years to come, he’ll lose a son, and then a daughter, and his entire life will crumble around him because of these two events. William will begin to understand Vanessa then — how a single traumatic event can destroy a lifetime. He won’t understand her enough to stop himself delving into work on remnant, or ruling over death, but for a while, he’ll truly, deeply regret this conversation.

But that’s in his own time. Not here in the future, seventy years out of time and stumbling around uncertainly in the debris of his future self’s destruction. So William looks to Vanessa expectantly; searching for a scrap of camaraderie in her, something that shows him she feels sorry for him.

[runelocked]

TORN FROM THOUGHTS, WILLIAM FLICKS A LOOK OF IRRITATION HER WAY WHEN DROPS OF TEA SEEP INTO THE TOP PAGE. Genius, he wants to snap at her, but instead wraps cold fingers around the mug she places down, not pulling away when the heat scalds the skin. His eyes snap up to her: she’s doing a remarkably good job of avoiding his face, but William doesn’t look away, gaze hounding, sharp.

“ If I’d interrogated my father about his own business, I’d have been out on my ear, ” he says mildly, but other than his eyes hardening, doesn’t continue with that lecture. It seems she’s caught him in a slightly better mood than usual. Besides, she’s seen enough of his business to know better than to talk openly about it. At the thought, discomfort spills into his frame, but he continues: “ Other than my daughter’s pitiful attempt to make a decent cup of tea, ” William begins, unfair, considering he hasn’t even tried it yet, almost a joke, if it had come from anyone other than him, “ well ——— the future, Nessie. […] Can you keep a secret? ” Doesn’t he remember? She’s kept his secrets this far. Dark eyes, watching her every move intently, glint with uneasy possibility.

OPEN STARTER! ——— MUTUALS ONLY.

There’s a pounding in his head as he nurses his coffee that morning — not tea, coffee, nose wrinkling in sheer betrayal at the taste — quite frankly, it’s far too early to be here. The restaurant doesn’t open for another hour, but he’d dragged himself here two hours ago just to get out of his study for a while. Not that sitting here is any better: William’s eyes haven’t left the stack of papers sitting in front of him, scanning each one like he hates it personally; so engrossed in his work that he sees their approach and automatically assumes they’re a waiter— “ Another coffee, please, ” he mumbles, gaze still fixed on his files, “ black. ”