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pervcoded · 7 months ago

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DOG-EARED AND DOUBTFUL starring yuuji itadori. part iii.

──☆*:・ﾟcontent warning: amab!reader (referred to as a boy), canon divergent, college au (18+ characters) inside of the hybridverse. artist!reader, sukuna is related to yuuji. awkward meet-cute, but yuuji is implied to be (and is) slightly unhinged. reader is human and yuuji is a doberman hybrid. fluffy, safe for work-ish. nude modelling. bashful , sorta pushover reader. reader has a stutter. invasion of privacy (yuuji goes through your sketchpad and gets comfortable fast). british use of trousers (pants) and pants (underwear). scent stuff going on, yuuji has a good nose. yuuji is sorta feral and reader's not in a position to (nor does he quite want to) argue. mdni! reblogs and comments appreciated!

wc: 4.2 words.

It’s beautiful, truly. Yuuji is admittedly philistine in his artistic taste, never had a muse for it; but he finds himself wholly appreciative of the opportunity to become yours- even if it’s only for the evening. He can’t control the way his tail wags, heart pattering quicker in his chest as the excitement overrides his previously projected aloofness, his hands moving faster than his mind in that moment. One more page wouldn’t hurt.

You’re just like any other boy in class, really. Maybe the round ears and lack of fur are a bit of a weird look, but Yuuji wasn’t popular when he first transferred to the university either - and some change is always good, he thinks.

“And your tongue—is it really that small?” Someone had asked on your first day in, your classmates ogling your skin, analyzing its novel texture. You’re good at acting nonchalant when you’re placed on the spot. Tone even, eyes level, posture loose and relaxed as you fold your arm over the back of your chair. You’re smarter than they’d ever give you credit for—laughed along with their jibes so they wouldn’t see how gently you swayed. Trembled. The claws of some touchy Wolverine mutt glancing at your collarbones, and you laughed it off, never once minding the sweat cascading down the apex of your temple.

But your scent is disloyal to you. He never thought to mention it. The sour notes of tangerine, key lime, crescendo in the spot where you stand, a heady cocktail of anxiety and embarrassment and horror.

You’re quite popular for a human, however. Maybe that was your conventional appeal. Or rather stood next to them you stick out like a sore thumb, and that makes you far more interesting—purely by virtue of your association. But Yuuji likes to think you have your own redeeming qualities too. You’re an artsy type. Try and spend a lot of time by yourself if you can manage, but your peers seem intent on laywaying your silence; coveting your time like shiny trinkets in a magpie’s nest.

Still, you’re nice to him.

You remember his name. Say “Itadori, hi,” and give him a solemn nod before going on your way. You give him your leftovers you don’t want if your class schedules happen to line up that day. You share your notes from Anthropology, and sketch him in the margins of your notebook on the days you can’t focus.

The patience of hybrids doesn’t often extend to their own kind, and Yuuji’s felt terribly lonely since his grandfather passed - what with his uncle not being much in the way of making conversation. But you’re easy to talk to.

“Ah, Itadori, can you come here?” His tail wags a little at the acknowledgement, but if you notice you failed to comment. “Uh, yeah? What’d you want? I’m a little busy right now, so,” He smiles half-heartedly, suddenly a little uncomfortable to be seen with you like this. You move your stuff away from where you want him to sit at the table, and his eyes are acutely drawn to each movement of your hands. Gathering up runaway pencils, stacking textbooks. “You can call me Yuuji, by the way. I don’t mind.”

Your face lights up at that, and you tell him your name in kind. He tries it. Once for his pleasure. Again to make sure he got it right. He looks back down at the now emptied table, though he doesn’t go to take a seat.

Your lunch is sparse. Two pieces of bread with peanut butter and something else sandwiched in the middle. A browning apple eaten to the core. He thinks about mimicking the impressions of your teeth.

“Ah, well, I know we don’t talk and um - I’m still kinda new here and - please, you can sit,” Your hand fans out to gesture at the chair in front of you, and Yuuji settles into it uneasily. He can smell you’re afraid of something.

“Yuuji…” You tap your pencil on something he can’t see, draped over your thigh. “I.. wanted to draw you.” Yuuji tilts his head, finger absently reaching towards his chin. “Me?” “Yeah. It’s for an art assignment. We’re practicing portraits.” Your smile is disarmingly charming. “If it was okay with you, I wanted to see if… we could find some time to—y’know. Have you model for me.” Yuuji doesn’t let himself get excited so quickly, the hair on his forearm bristling a bit as he digs his nails into his thigh. Keep it from bouncing. “Okay. Yeah. Sure - that’s fine. I’d love to.” Yuuji sounds like he’s speaking through grit teeth, but his expression doesn’t expose anything other than slight apprehension. You sigh, a weight seemingly lifted off your shoulders. “Oh! Okay!” You try not to sound too happy about it, but a smile keeps weaseling onto your face. “Okay so, we’d have to book one of the art rooms, but that shouldn’t be too hard—nobody really lingers around after class. Lucky us, right?” You’re fishing your phone out of your pocket, and Yuuji nearly forgets to grab it with his unbloodied hand.

“Here. Add your number, take a photo if you’d like.” You’re teasing, but Yuuji never was good with sarcasm. He smiles big and wide for it, pointed teeth all in the front row.

He saves his name as ‘Yuuji 😎’, and hands your tech back to you. You send a quick ‘hey’ to make sure you got the right number. When his pocket rumbles he’s off no later, barely waving goodbye as he leaves you to your own devices.

You text out the details later. Tomorrow, at 7:00.

He gets there at 6:56 on the dot. Campus has been largely deserted this time of day, and the few stragglers left, student and faculty, each flock to their club space or the odd, afterhour meeting. You’re all set up by the time he’s there. You’re well-prepared, graphites and eraser shavings finding a home on the floor around you. Sticks of pastels lie short and chipped on the easels mantle, your fingertips already blackened by charcoal. This wing is new to him, but the hallways look just like this rooms walls. Student made murals scaling taller than him, ferals unfurling across the unorthodox canvas; a magnificent sky. Ceramic busts settle atop storage cabinets; baked and glazed vases filled with paper flowers, tucked into empty corners. Paintings hung to dry. Thick ink stains as he sidesteps a rolling chalkboard, gently pushing it to the side.

You glanced up when the door opened, but it was more reflexive than comprehending. You saw him, then looked back at the canvas, focused. Only when he nearly stumbles do you look back up again, and you’re smiling really wide. You wave excitedly. “Hey Yuuji!” His ear twitches near imperceptably, tail high and wagging. “Hey.” He’s decent at acting, if you think he’s faking casual you don’t mention it, just gesture to the seat beside you. The chair you saved for him has tall legs and a strong, straight back; perfect for a model.

“Well, you can take this chair when you’re ready,” he’s taking a peak at the easel sat in front of you, identical setups matching yours haphazardly set up around a squat stage in the center of the room.

Your sketchpage: marked with vague gestures and dancing, people-like shapes. You’ve been practicing. You absently tug at your collar at the lack of distance between you two (forgot you were using charcoal, so you quickly stop) and a strange aura radiates from you, the smell of frayed nerves stinging his nose. His tail lulls in its movement, a tad disappointed you weren’t as comfortable with him as he thought you were.

“For a portrait, you being closer is ideal, so we don’t h..have to use the stage. I’ll just do my thing over here and… Oh! I brought some water and um, snacks.” You tilt your head in a familiar, curious motion, ”You like shrimp chips?”

He shrugs at you and smiles. “They’re okay.” He’s flattered you considered him, mostly. He really did like that about you humans, such soft and compassionate creatures; moreso than any of the hybrids he knew. Where they-mournfully, himself included-took a unique pleasure in watching another squirm, your kind wasn’t like that at all, were they? Perhaps an underdeveloped survival mechanism. A tail to tuck in the presence of a predator’s bared fangs. Regardless, your grin crinkles the corners of your eyes and makes his heart soar, your anxiety easing out as you stand from your seat, revealing your true smell. Heat and sweet and pastry-light; a creme bruele after the top has been carefully cracked open. Tickles his cheeks pink.

“So, how long you been doing this art stuff for anyway?” You seem startled by the ask and pause before you answer, probably not used to being asked about your interests by the other hybrids. “Years now. E..ever since I was a kid I always liked art, drawing-” You curse as something rolls out of your bag and say sorry to nothing and no one. “Drawing, traditional, digitally. I was thinking about going into graphic design! - I’m still technically undecided, but I love art… It just calls to me, you know?” Oh, he has no fucking clue what you’re talking about. But he hums in the affirmative and reckons now’s a good a time as any to check. Take a peek through your lens and see the shape of your artisan mind. An artist’s sketchpad to him seemed the appropriate equivalent to their soul; so he takes the opportunity to flip through the pages on your drawing pad.

He’s admittedly expecting something grander. Maybe the inside of an old world colosseum or perhaps something abstract and profound, the kind of things disheartened schoolchildren write essays about; A Great Wave or Thinking Man, befitting of the brand of mystery he’d superimposed on you. Nothing suitably miraculous happens. The task merely becomes more intimate by virtue of your artistic repertoire. Surely, not the fault of his plain nosiness.

All flesh upon the paper is laid entirely bare. Inscriptions of bodies wrap around the canvas from the top to the very bottom like the prayers in a holy book. Any free tarp is not spared, a bared torso and breast here, the sole of a foot en point over there. Largely unfinished yet tangible, beginnings and inbetweens and many more ends; scores of tails, teeth, tongue and claws. “Oh, wow.” You’re still digging through your bag so you don’t mind him, preoccupied second guessing kneaded erasers and rags to wipe your creativity off on.

To describe your work as a product of mere fascination would be a woefully inaccurate assessment. Not a proper acknowledgement of your time, effort, sweat, (more than a few smudges in the graphite, a whiff of salt that sticks out above the rest) and conviction.

There’s quick notes scribbled between poses and observations, some names - none of which he immediately recognizes, but makes his head fog with some vague posessiveness regardless. Jealousy maybe. He doesn’t linger on it, instead flipping to the next page. Bodies more and more bodies, some without heads; long torsos; hips; thighs and legs and asses,

Lips, mouth wide open, teeth and tongue presenting. There’s a notable lack of vulgarity to the images. A seemingly clinical observation of how the parts move, some independent of the others; but when it all comes together…

One more page wouldn’t hurt. (It’s just admiration he’d say, when the real reason he’s so riled up is because he’d been hoping for this moment; all his anxieties of pursuing you assuaged by your apparent obsession for him- er- hybrids like him—can’t get ahead of himself just yet—) His fingers move with deft purpose.

You come back with a whole bag of stuff; chips, ramune, what smells like pocky, but he’s not looking towards you as you return. Surely, you think, a blank page can’t be that interesting, and you’re right; that’s not what he’s staring at.

He’s found your page.

Your life drawing class encourages you to practice still lifes in your free time. There aren’t many hybrids tripping over themselves to be ogled by a human - some models even abject to posing in the room while you’re there - so when the opportunity presented itself to observe something more than a picture, someone else, removed from your wheedling peers, obviously you lept for it.

You’d grown tired of drawing yourself.

“Ah, Yuuji-” Your inhale quick and sudden, the sharp clatter of a glass bottle twitching him out of his stupor. You stiffen up when he looks back at you despite his brevity (because he is just fascinated with your canvas all the sudden), your hands flapping anxiously as you step close, you’d collapse in on yourself if you had the option. “Um wait, please! That’s private!”

You are deeply gifted. He doesn’t have to stare it like he did the other ones cause he recognizes it as you so immediately. (Letting his eyes wander all those times seems to have payed off). Recognizes the arch and swell of your muscles, the slope of your back and the softness of the dimples in your hips, the gentle curve of your -

A hand darts over the artistic nudity before he can fully commit it to memory, and you shout: “Yuuji! I got the snacks, okay? Just- we can get started now,” He can’t read the expression on your face as you reset your canvas and flip to a blank page. He desperately tries to meet your eye; but your gaze is leagues away. An inkling of some base, carnal attraction blooms in his chest; your unwitting submission appealing to some feral hindbrain before he recalls your humanity, disappointingly gentle emotions and sensibilities.

He feels sad for you after though it only lasts a moment, his tail drooping pathetically and eyes sagging similarly as the compunction grapples him; and in a frenzied moment of attempting to sooth your shame (smells dull and salty like wood grain) he gets a good idea. According to his standard, anyway. He smiles at you and pants a little. His finger is digging into his collar at an angle, tugging up; in demonstration.

“If you want me to get naked, I really wouldn’t mind!” His whip tail thud-thuds into your easel. “Excuse me?” You initially abject, dumbfounded. Your face feels warm and your skin tingles, the blood in your cheeks stinging it darker, body tensing up. “W-why would you..? I..I wouldn’t, you really shouldn’t. I-it’s a, well - Portraits are mostly sup..supposed to be your face, so, getting naked? Really not necessary,”

He’s already taking his sweater off. “Yuuji, please.” His tail wags a little when you whimper and he has a mind to admonish himself for taking pleasure in such a thing.

“It’s fine, really!” Sounds so easy for him to say, when you’re on the verge of an aneurysm. “I was reading a little about it-” (and hardly did he ever read), “-and apparently, portraits can be half, or full bodies. Well, you’d probably know that better than me anyway.” His voice is dampened by the fabric, but you’re too dazed to notice he said anything. Everything is happening too fast.

He kicks off his shoes and drops trou in your choked silence, your hands tremble as dread wars in your mind and you remain uncertain of where to put them. Nevermind your eyes. The thought of trying to stop him warrs with the concept that having to touch him, see him, will surely kill you. “You seem to draw a lot of hybrids- so I assume you’re already used to seeing us naked? Though I didn’t see a lot of dogs in there…”

The room kicks up a few degrees and your blood simmers beneath your skin, your boundaries bent and bowed as you struggle to figure what happens next. Your shirt feels too, too tight. His is starting to come off. The slow drag of cotton across his body is amplified by the emptiness of the space, at a pace entirely too casual for an impromptu strip tease. “But there’s nothing wrong with trying something new every once in a while, y’know?” He stumbles a little when it’s past his shoulders, self consciously fixing his hair after he’s gotten it slung over his arm.

As if he has anything to be nervous about. He looks at you triumphantly when he’s finished (pants regretfully still on), and he wishes you couldn’t meet his eyes this time; get a good eyeful of how excited he is for you. In what must be respectful to you, you catch his gaze this time, with these big round prey eyes that makes the fur on the back of his arms bristle in the studio’s cool air. A vein in his throat jumps and his pupils dilate, but (too) soon you turn away.

You’ve seated yourself back on your chair and fixed up the workspace, though he has a hard time gauging this new expression on your face. Maybe apprehensive, again? Bashful? You chew your lip with this insistence, bruising the delicate skin there. Your hands move with opposed intention; flattening out the canvas and arming yourself with graphite. “O-kay. Y..you can.. Make yourself comfortable I guess..” He can still smell you, too.

This scent is new. Near cloying and knitting to the inside of his nose as it pours off of you, slight, topping off that twinge of orange peel and grapefruit.

“Okay!” He brusquely shoves past your apprehensions; looking mighty pleased with himself-the dog-the muse’s chair dragging agonizingly against the floor as he goes to set it in place. You do nothing at first. He is seated within seconds and after your hand suddenly is no longer your own, flexed potential in every muscle put to pause in the air, your brows furrowing in newfound frustration.

You don’t look at him, still. Yuuji’s triumph of domination having past, he finds the selfish desire to be observed and admired comes gnawing back to him. He doesn’t want to push you (so he says while shoving you) but he really is going all out. He’d like some of that signature human hospitality back, pretty please? He leans closer.

You get infinitely stiffer and he whimpers. An honest to god beaten doggy whine, and your shock is what finally gets you to look up. He’s far more relaxed than you at present, pouting expression at odds with his slouched posture and occasional pant. His floppy ears tilt open and he momentarily mirrors your wide-eyed wonder. “Finally,” he chirps. ”I was starting to think we weren’t actually friends!” You scoff, still staring saucer-eyed. Your eyebrows go up and down and up, your forehead wrinkles. “You ge-get naked for all your f..friends?” The incredulous twang to your voice wants to read to him like jealousy, but projection is a fickle thing.

Yuuji genuinely thinks about your question, further astounding you. “Well. I guess only for the ones I really like.” The statement is made sincerely, the smile accompanying it darling, and could have perhaps romanticized the situation had you not been a sane-minded human man. The warmth in your face has turned to fire hot heat and you sputter on your words. “I’m fl..flattered. But humans? Don’t do t..this,” you attempt to gesture to the entire situation, “With their friends! This is, frankly, too, too-” You stutter into nothing, the thought dying on your tongue. “Too what? I mean, you don’t smell like you hate it,” he sniffs. “My nose is pretty good! If you-” you dislike the way he stresses the syllable, like you’re special some how, “-were scared, I’d smell that miles away. You have a very strong scent you know? It’s not a bad thing though, don’t worry! At least, it isn’t for me anyway. It makes you feel more.. Genuine.” He hums matter-of-factly, your pencil beginning to tremble above the page. “But aren..aren’t you cold? Or-or something? It’s always freezing-freezing in here!” Yuuji shrugs, ”Aw, it’s no worries really. I sorta run hot, so,”

You knew a lot of things about hybrids. About their keen noses, most gifted with perceptive capabilities beyond that of your kind. Still it feels no better to hear that for despite your subtlety, you never had a chance to evade their prying eyes. You sigh with a shake of your shoulders, and Yuuji takes your silence as an excuse to move closer. “Hey, don’t worry. What’d I say about new things?” You don’t feel terribly reassured, but you nod along for your own sake. “You got an assignment due, don’t you? Just focus on that. Forget Yuuji, focus on capturing..” “The form.” You finish. Yuuji would have said ‘these guns’, but shrugs. “Yeah, that.”

You look at him again, but only now do you truly perceive him, resigned yourself to capturing his image and replacing the blankness on your canvas. Your gaze is sharp and surgical, your pencil connecting with the paper as you change focus between him and it. Him, his infuriatingly cheeky grin and easy-going eyes and loose limbs. This body worthy of envy. Laid bare for you to wrangle and tame, reduce to your second dimension.

You begin to draw.

Yuuji sits in a silence punctuated by the sounds of your scribbles. Upwards stroke, down again; quick curving motions. Stare right at him, into the depths of his soul. Turn away, and sketch some more.

It’s a lot more boring than he’d imagined it. He is very excited you have your eyes on him; don’t get him wrong, but your stare doesn’t possess any of the fullbodied fascination, like he has for you. He almost wished he could give you his nose just so you could smell his pheremones, or his eyes, so you could catch every little jump of his muscles or twitch of the tail. He’d refrain for a few selfish reasons; Your changes in mood. The straightening of your spine and the twitching of your eye after you got a rhythm going. You ditch the graphite, go for the charcoal, and make some bigger shapes, Strikes some fine lines. Stillness comes simply to him, studying you as intently as you are him.

Your movements slow to an inevitable stop after a time, “Okay…” You stare stonily at your canvas. Briefly compare in silence. “I… think I’m finished.” You don’t move away, seemingly taken by your own creation.

He shoots up from his seat and moves close. “You’re no..not gonna put your c..clothes back on?” He looks down at you with his head at an angle, suddenly peered over your shoulder. “You want me to?” Your silence is loud. “Okay then.” He smiles, finally taking a look at your drawing.

The expression you gave him is burrowing and severe. An intense glower that catches even him off guard. An unbidden hunger beneath his eyes accentuated by whisps of charcoal, a pinprick of yellow nestled into his irises. He is in both awe of it and horrified that is how you saw him. How he truly was. You define the slant of his collarbones after the fact, rounding out the muscle of his pecs. You sketch and erase, sketch and erase under his curious eye, sketch. Your palette grows. Swirled into colorless grey by your finger, pencil replaced by your finger. You draw without a model, so he no longer sees the point in teasing you with his nudity. Forgive him for expecting something more dramatic- he’s been reading too much manga, surely…

He gets dressed slow and gets as close as possible to your face whenever he has a question.

“Is art always this boring?” He whispers close to your ear and you shiver. “M..maybe if you’re not the one…the one drawing. This.. I-I’m having fun, actually.” He tuts at you, “You need to teach me how to draw then. Next time when we do this, I can take a crack at drawing you!” His clawed finger crawls down your shoulder, you sweat a little under his attentions.

“Y..yeah,” you swallow. “Maybe..” He smiles cooly as he eases back into the seat opposite you. “I just don’t think it’s fair you get to have the fun all to yourself, y’know?” You shoot him a look, lip pursed. “A-a lot more people would be more … excited about getting a free portrait.”

“Well, a lot more people would be more excited about getting to see me half naked.” Practically naked, to be a precise as possible. Your exasperation beats out your nervousness and you’re no longer afraid to set your brows with attitude, scoffing in irritation. Like he knows how you feel. The sheer restraint you’re exercising. How adamantly you will not allow this to get out of hand; you will not allow yourself to do something you'll regret- “G..get them to draw you, then!”

“Nah.” He drags his chair closer, but it’s not casual like before. Now the oxygen feels stuffier. Hotness that makes the air thicken and drag you down, a heat that blazes too close to your ears and seemingly makes the air tremble before you. You look toward him, not knowing what to expect (but twitching, aching for it).

His tongue runs over his canines in a raw, animalistic fashion, the deep pools of his amber eyes threatening to drown you beneath their surface. “I don’t like them nearly as much.”

all content written by me @pervcoded is owned by me, and you are not allowed to repost or translate my works. don't put my shit into ai generators, don't steal my shit and put it on wattpad. thank you.

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marlynnofmany · 3 months ago

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Crinkly Collectibles

I opened the door of my quarters to a wall of muscles and silks. The Frillian twins were about to knock. Blip pulled her hand back just shy of knocking me in the face, which I appreciated, and she looked a little embarrassed about it.

“Hello!” she said, straightening up. “We would like to borrow your tiny predator.”

I glanced back at the mismatched orange-and-black cat who was currently licking her butt on my bed. “Telly? Why?”

Blop said, “We suspect there were small pests hidden in the packaging of the collectibles we just brought onboard.” He looked over his shoulder at the empty hallway and lowered his voice. “We’re hoping to resolve the problem before the captain has to know.”

“Gotcha,” I said. I took a step toward the bed before I thought to ask, “Are you sure the pests are safe for Telly to hunt? No spines or poison?”

They looked at each other uncertainly, waving their head frills in a complicated body language that I couldn’t pick up. “Reasonably sure,” Blip told me.

“How about one of you borrows a medscanner from Eggskin,” I suggested, “While the other brings me up to speed on the details.”

“On it.” Blop was gone in a flash of silk.

I wondered idly when they would go back to their other favorite fashion choice of elastic bands, the polar opposite of their current getup, then I refocused when Blip started explaining.

Apparently they’d just picked up an exciting new set of collectible whatsits on our last stop — Blip went on a tangent about how she’d never seen this model before, without actually describing them in any detail — and now the things were never where they left them. The twins had found them scattered around their quarters several times, with no reason to suspect any crewmate of messing with their stuff on purpose.

Did they still have the packaging that pests might have come in? No.

Had they kept the door closed, so any pests couldn’t get out? Also no.

I asked, “Are you sure you shouldn’t just tell the captain? We don’t even know how many there might have been.”

Blop came trotting up with a handheld medscanner while Blip waved her hands and frills in what was probably supposed to be a reassuring way. “It’s probably zipperbugs. They never venture far until they’ve eaten everything they like in a small area.”

“What are they eating in — You’ve got a stash of shrimp sticks in there, don’t you?” I asked, remembering their favorite snack.

They chorused, “Of course,” then both spoke at once about how those had been scattered at first too, then hidden in what they hoped was a secure location. They hadn’t checked yet to see if there were signs of gnawing on the container.

Since Blop had the scanner and they were both fretting about this, I hurried to scoop up Telly with only minimal meowing complaints, and followed them down the hall to their quarters. Telly rearranged herself in my arms and sniffed the air curiously as we walked. I kept an eye out for anything scurrying that she might launch herself towards.

The door was at least closed right now. Blip opened it quickly. I was wondering what the sudden rush was when I heard the distinctive tentacle-slap of an approaching Strongarm crewmate. The twins really didn’t want word of this to get out. Not that I blamed them.

I followed Blip inside with Blop right behind, and the door shut before anyone saw. Frills drooped with relief. I looked around the somewhat messy quarters for a sign of pests. All I saw were various belongings that could stand to be put away, and a long shelf of little palm-tree-shaped things set out for admiring. Several of those were also on the floor.

I was about to ask if those were the collectibles when Telly kicked off my chest and tackled something.

The Frillians shouted. Blop aimed the scanner. Telly lay on her side and rabbit-kicked a small thing that crinkled.

“There’s nothing there!” Blop exclaimed. “It’s only picking up the one animal!”

“Hey, she’s chewing on the Model 5! Give that back!” Blip reached for the little collectible that apparently made an excellent cat toy, then pulled her hand back when that just led to a claw swipe.

“Telly, drop it,” I scolded, nudging the cat with my shoe. When she rolled over and attacked my ankle instead, I deftly grabbed the toy. “That is not for you.” When I checked it for damage, I saw firstly that it was fine, secondly that it looked more like a sea anemone than a tree, and thirdly that it smelled strongly of shrimp. Spicy ones; it made my eyes water a little.

Blop scanned the room one corner at a time while Blip took the collectible from me. Telly was putting her hind feet to work at kicking my ankle, having a fine old time, but I was wearing thick socks so I let her. That gave me a moment to pick up the handful of other whatsits nearby.

Blip asked, “How do we get her to hunt the pests instead?” She put the Model 5 back on the shelf and took the others I’d gathered.

At the same time, Blop said, “I’m not picking up anything on the scanner! Did they already leave?” He and Blip both rushed to check on their stash of shrimp sticks.

All the heavy footsteps disturbed Telly, who scrambled onto a chest of drawers where she was above foot level.

This put her at the perfect height to jump onto the collectible shelf, which she promptly did. She swatted three onto the floor and leapt down after them.

I moved to take them away from her while the Frillians were busy being confused about the pristine state of their shrimp sticks. They hadn’t noticed Telly yet.

“Do you have the scanner on the right setting?” Blip asked.

“Yes, I double checked!” Blop said. “They aren’t here! They must have left already. Maybe it’s not zipperbugs. We’ll have to tell the captain after all.”

“Guys,” I said, holding a cellophane-and-rubber seaweed toy at arm’s length. “I think we may have found your pest.” They turned to look just as Telly sprang up to pull it from my hand.

They both shouted some more while I got the toy back. “What! No way! was it her from the start? What a jump!”

“You may want to keep your door shut,” I said, giving her my foot to fight again while I stretched to put the toy back on the shelf. I’d have to wash the smell off my hands. Which gave me an idea. “Hey, can you spare one of those shrimp sticks?”

They could. I opened the door, then wiggled the shrimp stick in front of Telly. “Here, kitty kitty. Fetch!” When I tossed it out into the hall, she bounded eagerly after it.

A started burble sounded, followed by Mur’s voice. “What was that? Did the cat just catch a pest?”

“Nope,” I called out to him. “Just a shrimp stick. No pests here.” I smiled at the Frillians, who were still processing all this. “I’ll take her back to my quarters for some proper cat toy time. Don’t forget to put the scanner back.”

I left the Frillians to tidy up their quarters in a mix of relief and exasperation. Out in the hall, Mur tentacle-walked past Telly, giving her a wide berth as she chewed happily on the treat. She didn’t mind when I picked her up again. As far she was concerned, this was probably a great day with no worries whatsoever.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

#my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #cats #in spaaace

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octuscle · 10 months ago

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A weird change has been going on with all the guys at my office. Many of them are now acting “southern” wearing cowboy boots and hats and belt buckles and even talking in southern accents despite almost none of them being from the south. They also started driving giant trucks and even some of my more liberal co workers are now talking about conservative politics.

Could the chronivac be behind these changes?

You have the feeling that the young employees were the first to be affected. When you went home a few days ago, you heard a "Goodbye, Mister! Havuh nice eevnun!!" from Frederick's desk. Frederick is an intern. A promising Harvard student from the best family in Providence. You're actually on a first-name basis in the office. But you don't actually wear a cowboy hat either…

The next person to be hit is Peter from the coffee shop downstairs in the office building. Peter is actually a talented barista and, like all people in the catering industry, is actually a disabled actor. You once saw him as Hamlet in an off-Broadway production. He wasn't any worse. "Hello Mr. Goldmann, sir! Uh hot blaak filter coffee as usual?" You look at him in amazement. "Peter? Is that you? I always have a cappuccino. Have you forgotten?" "Kaynt bay, mister! Way don't sayul thet kinduh stuff. An by thuh way, mah name iz Pete."

Fucking hell, Pete is really smoking hot. Okay, the conversation between you is getting more monosyllabic by the day. You'll get used to the black coffee. Not to his Trump praise.

Over the next few days, more and more of these cowboys and rednecks will come your way. There is talk in the news of a hacker attack on TikTok accounts and on Chronivac by the Russians. Allegedly, it is no longer the will of the voters but the voters themselves who are being manipulated. Thank God you don't use TikTok.

A few days later, things get more serious. You come out of the elevator, your eyes engrossed in the New York Times. What is that stench? Your eyes fall on Frank, the young man working at reception. A cloud of sweat and musk wafts around him. His left hand is under the table, moving rhythmically back and forth. "Good morning, Frank!" you say sternly. His hand is suddenly on the table and he clicks away the porn on the screen. "Excuse may, Mr. Goldmann, sir! Ah didn't say yawl coming." You say that your name is Sebastian and that he should get back to work. Apparently he misunderstood. As soon as you turn around, he jerks off again.

And it smells bad in the office. A lot of employees here seem to have an increasing problem with personal hygiene. And spend more time in the gym. And watching cowboy movies. Still mostly young colleagues. But also a few who are your age. It's frightening.

You're sitting at the financial statements. They have to be finished in the next few days. And apart from you, no one in accounting seems to have a clear head anymore. What you're given is full of errors. In terms of content, spelling, grammar… A catastrophe. You hear heavy footsteps behind you. "Goldmann, Smith, Wagner. Into thuh conference room. Now!" You turn around. The two giants look a bit like your CEO and CFO. But they smell like the locker room at a rodeo.

The two of them will forward you the links to a few TikTok videos. You should watch them! Don't have an account yet? Then bloody well get one. You'll get a lecture that our business model isn't patriotic enough. That you're doing too much business with the disgusting gooks and the cowardly French and Krauts. You're supposed to make America great again. America first!

Robert and Richard look at each other and at you, embarrassed. They don't really understand what they should do now. Admittedly, neither do you. You wonder whether the board has gone mad. Robert and Richard, who represent product development and sales, start to discuss whether it is even possible to restructure the supply chains and distribution channels in the short term.

You install TikTok and take a look at the videos sent by the CEO. They are basically advertising messages from the right wing of the Republican party. Repulsive stuff. And you have no idea what this has to do with your company's accounting and controlling.

After reflecting on the situation for a few minutes, you get up and think that you need a drink for the shock. You wonder if they could do with one too? Robert and Richard, who have also just installed TikTok and are watching the videos, look up briefly and shake their heads.

The cognac you received as a gift a few years ago is no longer in your office. You also can't remember whether you gave it to someone as a gift or took it to a company party. Surprisingly, you find beer in the fridge in the coffee kitchen, which is actually against company policy, but no schnapps or anything like that. You go to Frank and ask if you have any whiskey or something similar. Frank spits his chewing tobacco into the wastepaper basket and pulls a silver hip flask out of a drawer. "Home-brewed by mah dad, Mr. Goldmann, sir! Do yawl need uh glass?" You shake your head, take the flask and take a big swig.

Rick and Bob ask if you've brought booze and chewing tobacco. The two of them rant about the government, fantasize about how good everything will be once Trump is back in power and scratch their balls. They're both good guys. A bit hollow in the head. But they have their hearts in the right place, don't think twice and implement orders quickly and efficiently.

You really can't believe the gobbledygook they spout. You sit down, take a pinch of chewing tobacco and push the tin over to them. And after an impressive burp that smells wonderfully of the chili from today's lunch, you take a deep breath.

"Buddies, is way men or weaklings? Thuh bosses want ideas frum us, not whinin'. Wadja thank uh thuh fallerin' plan: naw more deliveries uh goods frum China frum next year an doubled prices fahwar sales tuh Europe!" Bob and Rick both snot their tobacco in the corner, shout "Yeehaw" and fart. Hehehe, they also had the chili. Shit, a good chili fart always makes you horny. You pull down the blinds in the meeting room. And Bob and Rick undo their belt buckles.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #chronivac #inked man #mullet #musk #stop trump #ai image

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hhbluedynamite · 1 month ago

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TADC Headcanons

(I'll probably add more and Headcanons are subjected to change)

General

Because I feel that the digital plane (or the Void, which I think contains the data Caine uses to make his adventures) that TADC is located in is loosely connected to the Human World, it does have access to any data information available. It just needs to be looked for.

Caine programmed a 24 hour day/night cycle to TADC

While no one needs to eat, drink, or sleep to survive, the act of sleeping still has its benefits. As for why I think that sleep can still be beneficial, one word: Burnout (a state of emotional, mental, and often physical exhaustion brought on by prolonged or repeated stress). So, while sleep isn’t necessary for survival, it can help prevent burnouts.

Going off from this, I think that psychosomatic responses can still occur since it's a result of psychological stress.

I honestly think that Caine eventually has the rooms that belonged to Abstracted players removed. The idea of a room that once belonged to a friend who lost their will to live and became a digital abomination still being present (and their picture crossed over) feels a little…distressing. So, the hall leading to the living quarters is notably smaller with three rooms on each side (it will extend if more people arrive). The surviving players do keep pictures of the Abstracted though.

The food they eat and beverages they drink does feel and taste like the real world counterpart, except they also have a staticky texture and aftertaste to it. It takes some getting used to.

The Tent’s other features:

The Library: If there is a digital copy of a book (including comics and manga), then its available in the Library.

The Theater: Same as the Library. If there is a digital copy of a show or movie, its available here.

The Kitchen: Its modeled after the place Caine and Bubble were at in the pilot. It acts as the group's kitchen area.

Speaking of Caine, his and Zooble’s therapy sessions have actually stuck with Caine and he creates new additions to the Tent for a little more variety. These new additions are:

CCs: Caine Currency or Caine Coins. Caine thought this would give the players a bit more motivation. Its not hard earning CCs. Just being present for the day gives 100 CCs. 50 more can be earned by participating in adventures.

The Gift Shop: One of the Tent’s rooms gets transformed into what can be described as a strip mall, though the stores are formed in a ‘U’ shape. Each store is dedicated to a player, usually in the form of clothing that usually keeps with the player’s theme, though there can be other items. The prices for most items are actually quite generous, but Caine would place a hefty price on certain stuff (sorry, Jax. That bootzooka is gonna cost 2400 CCs). I came to this idea because of the outfits and ‘skins’ you can get from certain games (typically mobile games, like Honkai)

The Game Room: Board games, pool, and actual video games (the latter is usually occupied by Pomni, Gangle, and even Kinger.) Same concept as the Library and Theater with digital copies of video games.

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Pomni

Was bullied a lot as a kid because she was painfully shy

Has lost her father to cancer as a teenager and her mother became emotionally unavailable after the loss (...what? Th-This has nothing to do with my love for the father/daughter dynamic between Kinger and Pomni!)

During nights she can’t sleep in her room, she sleeps in Kinger’s fort for comfort (...shut up)

Does like video games, but doesn’t like horror games. But, she’s willing to watch Gangle play a horror game as long as she has a blanket or pillow to hide behind. Most games Pomni plays are usually more light hearted.

Does gain a slight liking to anime, thanks to Gangle

Snorts when laughing hard enough. She’s embarrassed of this though, but the others find it endearing since it's rare for her to get a hardy laugh.

Among the items she bought at the Gift Shop, one was a plush of Gummigoo. It was an impulse purchase and she has mixed feelings over this.

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Ragatha

Was from a big family and the oldest child. She was forced to watch and care for her younger siblings because her parents are either too busy or too exhausted. Ragatha occasionally wonders how her brothers and sisters are doing since she’s been gone.

While she does love her family, she bites down her frustration over not having an active social life.

Enjoys tea. Its soothing.

Ragatha is definitely a mom friend thanks to her home life.

If she has any rips or loose limbs, she’ll sew herself back together. She rarely (never) asks for help for hard to reach places.

Was the main cook for the group until Zooble stepped in so she could take a break. At some point, Ragatha, Zooble, and Gangle would rotate on who’s cooking.

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Jax

Bit of a delinquent during high school and always getting into trouble with authorities and his father.

He was still in high school when he came to the circus

Kaufmo was actually his best friend in the circus since he was reminded of his old friend back in the Human World and felt betrayed that Kaufmo didn’t open up to him.

In fact, Jax was more tolerable when around Kaufmo

Can play the guitar and is a pretty decent singer.

Enjoys Caine’s adventures more than video games since its way more immersive (since he's actually participating directly)

Was thoroughly upset when he (literally) couldn’t get drunk on his 21st birthday

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Kinger

Under the assumption they were married prior to entering the game, Kinger and Queenie renewed their vows in the circus. Caine even created them new rings. Kinger still has Queenie’s ring after she Abstracted.

Kinger feels guilty over his wife’s Abstraction, believing that he caused her to feel unloved/unwanted.

While Kinger may not remember full of his time with Pomni at the manor, his feelings of fatherly protection towards Pomni is still present, often acting on instinct when he feels Pomni is in distress. Depending on the situation, and state of mind, results vary.

Has unknowingly adopted Pomni and Gangle as his daughters (they are 23 and 22 years apart from him respectively, so it works)...or Pomni and Gangle had adopt him as their father. Whichever came first.

Among the bugs Kinger had grown fond of, he has a greater affinity for butterflies

Has tried to help Ragatha with her fear of centipedes. It failed. Ragatha was grateful though.

Along with Pomni, Kinger isn’t trusted with cooking by himself. Its not like he’s a bad cook, he’s just more likely to cause a fire because he forgot he left the stove on or something in the oven.

There was a one year period where Kinger was the only player in TADC

He earned a Masters in computer science in two years before marrying Queenie, who he met in the same college.

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Gangle

Has sketched drawings of her fellow players, sometimes in different outfits depending on their body type and preferences

Has drawn for her fellow players, usually of stuff they like (such as Ragatha’s love for horses and Kinger with bugs)

A bit of a covert pervert to some degree and a little embarrassed by it. She only shared this bit of information about herself to Zooble when they found a copy of the Highschool of the Dead manga on the floor. Zooble agreed to keep it a secret after Gangle begged.

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Zooble

Occasionally smokes TADC’s version of weed, which produces rainbowy smoke

Has only been in the circus for half a year before Pomni arrived.

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Caine

Enjoys a good puzzle

During the one year period with just Kinger, Caine was surprised how hard it was to maintain a single player from teetering close to the deep end. So, he kept close company with Kinger until a new arrival came along. Since then, he emphasized more on group efforts. (go ahead RoyalTeethshippers. Use this to your heart’s content^^)

As mentioned in the General Headcanons, Caine has taken account of what transpired during his therapy session with Zooble (excluding moments Zooble said ‘nevermind’ or ‘forget it’) and tries to make sure that his adventures won’t lead to horrible experiences…however…

Among the few things Caine doesn’t have control over is what exactly happens during these adventures. Yes, he made them, plots, characters, and all, but whatever happens depends on the ‘adventure’s’ responses to the player’s choice. How’s your wife, Kinger? felt too targeted at the moment, considering the Super Scary Door was originally intended for Zooble and I don’t think Caine bothered to change anything himself. So, depending on the NPC’s given personality, they can act more antagonistic towards the players depending on choices made.

At first, Caine didn't know what to do with the Abstracted when the players first started turning into them. It was through Queenie's Abstraction and her time in Kinger's fort when Caine learned that the Abstracted are calmed in the dark. So, he made a dark place for the Abstracted in the Cellar.

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#the amazing digital circus #tadc headcanon #pomni headcanons #Ragatha headcanons #Jax headcanons #kinger headcanons #gangle headcanons #zooble headcanons #Caine headcanons #tadc headcanons

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danggirlronpa · 6 months ago

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I HOPE IM NOT LATE DJDJDN

HIYOKO PLS

, TAKING IN COUNT HER CONSERVATIVE FAMILY AND STUFF IT WOULD BE INTERESTING KNOWING HOW SHE DISCOVER HERSELF

Oh Hiyoko. And I say this with all the love for her in my heart. Hiyoko is ABSOLUTELY a homophobic teenager. Of course she LIKES girls, attaches to them and calls them Big Sis and desperately wants them to find her cute. But there's no conscious level where that's attraction. Hiyoko isn't like Those People. (And that's part of why she doesn't like Mikan, too - because Mikan starts to be genuinely happy when she realizes and openly accepts she likes girls. And that's not fair. HIYOKO doesn't get to be happy liking girls. Why should this bitch be??)

I think there's three things that contribute to Hiyoko unlearning her upbringing and accepting herself. Firstly, and maybe most importantly: Twilight Syndrome queer friend group. Hiyoko's closest friends are Mahiru & Sato, lovingly looking into each other's eyes at this very moment; Ibuki, talks about how she thinks women are on the daily; and Mikan, who has such an obvious crush on that model underclassman that it's embarrassing to be in the same building with them at a given time. Through her desire to be close to Mahiru and Ibuki, her Actual Friends TM, she just starts picking up the concepts. Stops being quite so aggressive about all that gay shit, because Mahiru WILL call her out on that.

Second is the time at Hope's Peak away from her grandmother's clutches. While under her grandmother, Hiyoko's only coping mechanism is, ultimately, obedience punctuated by violently lashing out. Hiyoko has no control over her own life and knows it. Being in a place where she can explore without being so confined both markedly calms her down (which you can see in DR3, where she's still a little shit but not Nearly so aggressive about it), and gives her room to explore other ways to rebel, like challenging her family's ideals themselves instead of just their actions.

And thirdly, obviously, Post Remnant Recovery. Once you have to go "maybe it was kind of fucked up that time we made a mix I danced to composed entirely of the sound of body parts being ripped off. " It is significantly easier to go "and also I probably called my classmates slurs because I was repressed." That's like easy mode in therapy, comparatively

#asks #zombyne #we love hiyoko being an Absolute Bastard Child and then unlearning all that. she deserves it #oh to have a mean female character receive a full arc #mod hangout #talk to the mod #headcanons #hiyoko saionji #sdr2 #dr3

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wolfxplush · 3 months ago

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Caught Lead Handed

Small one shot of Oscar and Lovette cause I’d find their friendship funny!!!

Oscar belongs to @lyalyagushkina

It was late in the afternoon, and the last few rays of sun streamed through the classroom windows of bullsworth academy, most of the students had cleared out, leaving a faint hum of chatter fading down the hallway from the remaining cliques having some last minute activities or calmer bullies shaking down the stray nerds dumb enough to stay late. The only sound now was the scratching of chalk on the blackboard as the prefect, Lovette , finished tidying up the classroom for the day. She had a reputation for being no-nonsense—sharp, disciplined, and with a near-permanent look of annoyance etched on her face. Earning the nickname The Bear among the other prefects due to her likeness of one.

As she moved between the rows of desks, she noticed something strange. A few loose papers were strewn carelessly across the surface of one desk, left behind in the rush to leave. With a heavy sigh, Lovette bent down to gather them up, expecting to find some crumpled-up math homework or a forgotten essay. But when she turned the first page over, her eyes widened in disbelief.

There, in crude pencil sketches, were detailed drawings of naked women—amateurish but undeniably bold. She flipped through the pages, each one more daring than the last. Her jaw clenched, and her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. What kind of idiot would leave these sitting out?

She didn’t need to look far to find the culprit.She had felt with this type of stuff before, all tracing back to one of the school’s resident greasers. Oscar.

"Of course, it’s him,"Lovette muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes as she tucked the papers under her arm. She stormed out of the classroom, her footsteps echoing in the empty hall as she sniffed out her prey.

Oscar was leaning casually against the lockers just outside, his leather jacket slung over one shoulder, nose deep into his notebook sketching away. His hands smudged with pencil lead from the pencil he held tightly in his grip. The same pencil he slammed shut in his notebook once he heard Lovette approach.

“Lovette!" Oscar drawled, his lips curving into a lazy grin. "What brings the almighty prefect to my corner of the world? Couldn’t resist my charm?"

Lovette didn’t waste any time. She pulled the stack of drawings from under her arm and held them up, waving them in front of his face. “Care to explain this?” she demanded, her voice laced with annoyance.

Oscar's eyes flicked to the drawings, a flicker of shock in his eyes, but his grin only widened. He gave a mock sigh and leaned in closer, his voice lowering in that signature, smooth tone he reserved for flirting. "Aw, c'mon, You know, if you wanted to see me outside of class, all you had to do was ask. No need to frame me for something!” A chuckle left his throat as he shrugged, removing himself from the locker he leaned upon.

Lovettes lips thinned, and she crossed her arms over her chest, clearly unimpressed. “Don’t even try it, Oscar. You left your trash on the desk, and now I’ve got to clean up your mess—again. Do you know this is far too inappropriate for a school! Keep this shit in the dorms! I don’t need the younger students finding it.” She hissed out. Tone laced with a venom.

Oscar chuckled, his voice a teasing mock. “Aw come on they ain’t porn, this is art! It’s like nude modeling! Are you trying to restrict my artistic creativity? That’s not very perfect like of you Lovette, maybe I should-“

“Don’t,” she cut him off sharply, stepping closer with narrowed eyes. “I don’t have time for your sleazy excuses, and this—" she waved the papers again, "is getting you in detention. So keep your 'inspiration' to yourself.”

For a moment, Oscar looked like he might keep pushing, the playful spark in his eyes dancing as he leaned in even closer, close enough for Lovette to catch a whiff of his cheap cologne and the lingering scent of pencil lead smudged on his cheek. “You know, sweetheart, if you spent less time scowling and more time relaxing, you’d have a lot more fun. I could show you how!”

Lovettes expression was pure ice. “I’m not here for fun, Oscar. I’m here to make sure punks like you follow the rules. You can take your ‘charm’ somewhere else because it doesn’t work on me.” She crumpled the paper in her hand into a ball.

Oscar leaned back with a shrug, his smile faltering just for a second. But like always, he played it off, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. No need to get all worked up, prefect. I’ll pick up after myself next time, promise.”

“Good,” she snapped. “Because if I catch you pulling this again, you’ll be doing a lot more than sitting in detention. Now get out of here before I change my mind.”

Oscar gave her one last cocky smirk, but as he turned to walk away. Lovette didn’t care. She watched him go with the same look of mild irritation she always wore, shaking her head.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath, shoving the drawings into her bag. Some people just never learned.

#bully oc #bully #bully scholarship edition #bully canis canem edit #bully cce #bully game #my art #shutupcain #canis canem #canis canem edit #bully canis canem #bully rockstar #lovette Jackson

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immaturityofthomasastruc · 2 years ago

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IOTA Reviews: Elation

Today's an Andre episode, so get ready for a lot of shipping fuel that goes nowhere, kids.

Let's get into the ninth episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fifth season: Elation

We start off after an Akuma fight, where Ladybug attempts to make a move on Cat Noir... even though he's about to detransform and needs to hightail it out of there. Ladybug then tries to force a kiss on Cat Noir's cheek, but because she isn't Adrien, she's actually questioned for this violation of personal space. Cat Noir thinks it was all a test for the whole secret identity rule, so the two part ways. It's weird how Cat Noir is the more sensible one in this opening scene.

Back at Marinette's place, Alya is sleeping over while the two talk about the former's feelings for Cat Noir.

Marinette: What if Cat Noir’s declining all my invitations because... because he’s... no longer in love with me?

Alya: You mean, you as Ladybug? You said it yourself a hundred times: Cat Noir and Ladybug just can’t work. You’d end up blabbing your secret identities to each other, Monarch would find out and your Miraculous would go “bye-bye”.

Marinette: Just because you couldn’t keep your secret from Nino when you’re both superheroes doesn’t mean I can’t do it with Cat Noir!

Alya: Hey! Who gave us both a Miraculous at the same time? And if you love a superhero, you’re gonna want to know who's behind the mask. How else are you supposed to live a legit love story?

Hey, remember when Alya was actually able to admit her mistakes last season? Good times.

First of all, Alya clearly forgot to mention that Ladybug giving her and Nino their Miraculous at the same time was because it was an all hands on deck situation, what with Scarletmoth amassing an army of Akumas and all that. Alya was specifically told to keep her identity secret last season because her family was in danger, and she chose her relationship with her boyfriend over keeping her and her loved ones. Second, isn't this the exact opposite of what Alya said last episode? She tried to argue that superheroes shouldn't keep their personal lives involved when fighting crime, but now, she's saying that Marinette needs to know who Cat Noir is in order to “live a legit love story”. I get that they're at least trying to acknowledge the problems with the whole identity stuff, but it contradicts the stuff Alya told Marinette last episode.

Either way, it leads to the same conclusion: Alya's all like “You're still in love with Adrien!”, and Marinette's all like “No, I love Cat Noir now!”, and then Adrien's all like “Hey Marinette, I conveniently chose to talk to you so you have an excuse to be embarrassed.” It's the same stuff we've already seen so far this season, and we're not even halfway through yet.

But yeah, Adrien came over to talk with Marinette, but Marinette's insecurities cause her to tell her mother to tell Adrien that she's busy. Before Adrien can do anything else, he's harassed by some of his fans. It's a pretty amusing scene, as it calls back to an earlier bit where Cat Noir is harassed by some different fans, and it made me smirk a little. Adrien transforms into Cat Noir to get away, only to run into Marinette, attempting to get some privacy after an argument with Alya. The two talk, and their banter is... tolerable. There's some decent chemistry here, and for once, Marinette is talking to a love interest without stuttering. I hate that it took until Season 5 to get a scene like this, but hey, it's better than nothing. There's also a really interesting take on the whole “Marinette is caught in her pajamas” gag (which has nothing to do with the fact that it lets the animators reuse one of their models), in that Cat Noir reassures Marinette that he doesn't mind.

Meanwhile, Alya came to the realization that she shouldn't force Marinette to go after Adrien... a piece of character development that came almost halfway through Season 5... after four seasons of essentially nagging Marinette to keep going after Adrien. You know what? If it makes the episode end faster, I'll go with it. Alya and Tikki go to apologize to Marinette, only to see she left with Cat Noir.

Marinette and Cat Noir decide to go to Andre's for ice cream (because I guess there are no other ice cream shops in the entire city of Paris other than his little ice cream cart), where we see another one of Andre's rules that makes you wonder how the hell he stays in business.

Andre: Marinette and Cat Noir! What are you two doing here?

Cat Noir: We’re here for ice cream, of course! Unless you’re selling hotdogs now. (the two laugh)

Andre: That’s a good one, Cat Noir! But I make sweethearts’ ice cream, not “jokers’ and good friends’” ice cream. Look, who do you see there next to Jean and Serge? (points at one of the photos posted on his cart) Ladybug and Cat Noir! Their flavor is one of my classics! Love is not something you joke about. You, Cat Noir, are in love with Ladybug, and you, Marinette, are supposed to be in love with Adrien Agreste.

Oh, for the love of—GET A LIFE, YOU CREEP!

This is the exact same problem Andre has had in his last two appearances: His entitled belief that he has to be right about love all the time, and how his ships are absolute. This man is way too invested in making sure two teenagers hook up even when it seems like one of them has found someone to love. And just like his last two appearances, Andre gets all pissy because his ice cream is supposedly never wrong, but we're getting ahead of ourselves.

Thanks to Andre's rambling, Cat Noir learns that Marinette was in love with Adrien, and the two talk about it. They eventually start kissing, but Cat Noir backs out of it, pointing out that he's essentially taking advantage of Marinette thanks to her being a fan of his, as well as his secret identity complicating things. Marinette doesn't take it well.

Marinette: UGH! I AM SICK AND TIRED OF PTHER PEOPLE DECIDING WHAT'S GOOD FOR ME!

Cat Noir: I’m taking you home.

Marinette: SICK! I AM SICK OF IT! WHY CAN'T I BE HAPPY!? WHY CAN'T I LOVE WHOEVER I WANT TO LOVE!? (breaks down sobbing)

Cat Noir: You can. I can’t. Not like this.

Honestly, this is a really great scene. While I think Cristina Vee and Bryce Papenbrook have been kind of phoning in their performances lately, they both do a great job here, with Marinette's breakdown sounding believable, and Cat Noir's somber delivery playing off it well.

Of course, this attracts the attention of Monarch, who attempts to akumatize Marinette, and Marinette seems to give in. Of course, because Astruc himself said Marinette isn't allowed to get akumatized, this potentially interesting idea is shot down thanks to Cat Noir kissing Marinette. Somehow, it works, causing Marinette to reject the Akuma, though Cat Noir still apologizes afterwards.

Cat Noir: I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have kissed you again, but you weren’t listening to me, I was just trying to help you! To save you! That wasn’t a love kiss, it was... ugh, I’m just making it worse!

You know your kiss scene is confusing when one of your characters isn't sure what to make of it. If the moral of the story is that Marinette and Cat Noir can't be in love like this, why have Cat Noir save Marinette from getting akumatized by kissing her?

Of course, we still need an Akuma fight, so of course, Andre is akumatized into Glaciator again through his ice cream scoop. This time, he has the Tiger Miraculous' Clout, giving him the ability to fire bursts of energy in addition to his power to... be an ice cream golem.

Cat Noir gets Marinette to safety and tries to fight Glaciator, who sets his sights on Marinette for having the audacity to criticize his life's work. I wonder if one of the writers is projecting here. Of course, seeing how Glaciator is essentially Bomberman now, Cat Noir is overwhelmed by the sheer destructive power of the Akuma. Right when it seems like Glaciator is about to take his Miraculous, Alya stands up to him and tries to fight back, but is knocked away. Thankfully, Marinette had time to reunite with Tikki and transform into Ladybug. Ladybug meets up with Cat Noir, and after Glaciator temps the two to give up their Miraculous so they can be together without worrying about secret identities, the two refuse and reaffirm their friendship.

Ladybug summons her Lucky Charm, a parasol, and comes up with a plan. While Cat Noir distracts Glaciator by pretending to struggle to get his Miraculous off (another admittedly funny joke), Ladybug throws the parasol through Glaciator's ice cream body, causing it to open up and blind him. Glaciator stumbles back and starts melting from being near one of the nearby fires, and once the ice cream body melts away to reveal Andre, Cat Noir uses his staff to break the scoop. Ladybug de-evilizes the Akuma, Andre apologizes for going on a homicidal rampage because his OTP didn't happen, Ladybug gives Andre another Magical Charm even though the last one didn't work at all, and uses Miraculous Ladybug to fix the damage.

Meanwhile, Monarch transforms back into Gabriel, revealing that his Cataclysm wound is getting worse.

So remember when Gabriel started actually acting like a parent to Adrien in “Illusion”? It probably means he's only doing it because his days are numbered. Gabriel notes that now he knows that Cat Noir has feelings for Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and that he plans to exploit them.

youtube

Yeah, five bucks says he'll go back to ignoring her by the next episode. Marinette and Cat Noir share one last conversation about how it's easy for Marinette to mistake her feelings for Cat Noir for just being a fan (ironically, you could say the same thing about Marinette's feelings for Adrien too) before choosing to break things off, Marinette breaking down crying again as soon as Cat Noir leaves. The episode ends with Adrien realizing that there's a chance that Marinette could fall for him again.

Anyway, this episode was honestly pretty decent. Aside from a few things that have been par for the course this season, I really didn't have a lot of problems with the episode. Marinette and Cat Noir had some okay chemistry, and I liked how Cat Noir was able to acknowledge how he was abusing his status as a superhero by trying to start a relationship with Marinette, even if it never came up last season with Kagami. I also thought the animation was the best so far this season, with a lot of good shots at night and some decent action. Of course, it wasn't perfect. While it was nice to see some character development from Alya, it came across as an afterthought since most of it happened off-screen, and as always, Andre was a gigantic manchild.

While I am glad that there seemed to be some kind of progress being made for character development as evidenced with Cat Noir and Alya, it does feel long overdue. We're almost halfway through the show's fifth season, and only now are we getting stuff like Marinette and Cat Noir developing feelings for each other, Adrien learning that Marinette had feelings for her, and Alya learning to not focus so much on forcing her ships to happen. All of this should have happened a long time ago, but after almost four seasons of nothing but filler, only now are we getting some serious plot and character development. Considering the fact that this was originally planned to be the last season before the show got renewed, I'm worried that the writers are just going to cram a lot of plot progression and character development into the second half of the season without giving the audience time to process all of it, all while acting like we should be grateful because at least something's happening.

Overall, this was a decent episode, though part of me is worried how the rest of the season will handle the story if certain developments only came this late into the show's run.

THE BIGGEST IDIOT OF THE EPISODE IS... ANDRE

Yeah, this wasn't a surprise here. Just like the last two times he got akumatized, he threw a temper tantrum and tried to kill Marinette because one of his predictions based on his ice cream was wrong while ignoring the hundreds of other couples he's brought together as evidenced by “Wishmaker”, and needing to learn the same lesson he learned in “Glaciator 2”, in addition to turning down two paying customers because they're not Lucy and Ricky levels of being in love with each other. Hell, I'm pretty sure if Andre ever saw an asexual person, he'd have a heart attack trying to get them some ice cream.

#immaturity of thomas astruc #iota #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug salt #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #adrien agreste #cat noir #chat noir #gabriel agreste #hawkmoth #hawk moth #monarch #monarch miraculous #alya cesaire #andre glacier #glaciator #tikki #Youtube

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hannahssimblr · 11 months ago

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Chapter Fourteen

College is cancelled as the snow gets worse, so Claire and I spend the week in our apartment hanging out with each other, just like we used to during the long weekends of our 6th year, nobody but each other. We agree to leave the heating on all day because it’s a weather emergency and I try not to think too much about the bill, justifying that if I’m not going out to bars and clubs I’m saving money, so I can funnel it into keeping our cold feet warm during the storm.

We take her big feather down duvet from her bed and watch nineties chick flicks on the couch all day, eating through every last morsel of food in the apartment so that we don’t have to brave the weather to get supplies from the nearest supermarket, which has already been raided of all its bread and eggs as the hysterical Irish have once again entered panic mode over five inches of snow.

We send Shane on a mission to Marks & Spencers on Henry Street to get fancy food to make up for the miserable offerings of the local Tesco Express, but even the trains have stopped by now, so he has to cycle from Clonskeagh. When he arrives hours later we rejoice. Claire kisses him all over his face while I dive for the carrier bags, pulling out the fancy oven dinners we requested, huge bars of Dairy Milk chocolate, Percy Pigs and gourmet crisps with fancy flavours like flame grilled steak and sour cream and shamrock.

“I’ve another thing for you as well, Evie.” He says, and throws something at me which I fail to catch. “Happy birthday.”

I dive for it, a small soft packet that’s ended up under the kitchen table. “You shouldn’t have.” I say. “What is it?”

“Well you’ll find out if you open it.” He says.

“Right.” I rip open the clumsily taped paper and there’s a cute little knitted hat inside. It’s red, my favourite colour, and I gasp with surprise and hug it to my chest. It’s so warm and soft to the touch. “Oh wow! Did your mam make this?”

“I asked her to yeah. You said you needed a new hat so…”

“I love it.” I pull it over my ears and pull a model face for Claire who laughs. I don’t get up and try to hug Shane because I know how much he would hate it, so I settle for beaming at him until he goes a bit red instead. “I always wanted her to teach me how to knit.”

“She’d definitely do it, just ask her sometime.”

“I can see it, me becoming someone who knits stuff, like big ugly lumpy scarves and horrible mittens.” I sigh. “I miss your mam.”

“I’d say she probably misses you as well.”

Our conversation is interrupted by my phone buzzing in my pocket and my heart instantly does an anxious skip when I feel it, but then I’m just frustrated to see another message from Dean.

Bored. Do you want to hang out?

I sigh and stuff it back into my pocket. I’ve been trying to ignore him all week but he’s texted me three times now, and the more he sends the more obvious it is that I’m trying to avoid him, which I’m sure he will consider some sort of childish drama.

“Who’s that?” Claire wants to know, and I admit to her that it’s Dean, which makes a muscle twitch in Shane’s jaw.

“What’s he want off you?” He asks tersely.

“Just to hang out.” I say.

“Are you saying no, or?”

“Well, I’m saying nothing at all. I don’t know how to approach it, you know, like, giving him a hard ‘no’. It seems harsh.”

Shane takes the bag from the table and starts unpacking the groceries. “It’s spelled N O.” He explains. “Very easy.”

“Yes but I feel bad, like I couldn’t explain to him why I suddenly don’t want to see him, because really, it’s out of pure awkwardness, and I just can’t face him at the moment.”

“Can’t you say ‘I don’t hang around with boys who… do drugs’?” Claire offers, delivering the word “drugs” in that uncomfortable way that a mother would. I shake my head. “Well, no, because I’m embarrassed that I didn’t know that already, considering how obvious it apparently was.” I sigh, flashing back to the vigour with which he was rubbing his nose at my party. “I suppose it’s not really him, it’s me.”

“Nah I’d say it’s him, probably.” Shane says as he shoves the crisp packets into the cupboard beside the oven. “Just leave it, don’t talk to him anymore.”

I lope over to the couch and flop down onto it heavily. “It must be very easy to be you, Shane.” I say. “Able to just say whatever you’re thinking to anybody who annoys you.”

“As can you.”

“I couldn’t.” I insist, because whenever I do something that causes somebody to dislike me I feel the desire to move towns to get away from seeing them. Or I wish I was never born. Whichever. “I don’t want any conflict.”

“You know that sometimes conflict isn’t a bad thing, don’t you?”

“Shh.” I say, grabbing the remote and turning up the volume of whatever movie we had playing in the background. “I’m watching TV.”

The next day, Friday, I finally venture out of the apartment in pursuit of a coffee, also to stretch my legs and get some exercise after being entirely sedentary for the bones of four straight days, but mostly for a coffee as I’ve got wind of a rumour that a café on Dame Street is still open.

The outside world is crisp, clear and shockingly bright, a thick white shawl over the city, shaken out of the arms of the trees and grown on the roofs of buildings like moss. It crunches underfoot as I make my way past the park where a group of children are taking turns on a plastic sled, and further up the street where the paths have been salted and the snow has turned into slush there are more of them building a lumpen snowman that is more brown than white, snow mixed with the dirt from the ground.

One boy yanks another out of my way as I pass them. “Get out of the way of the lady.” He scolds, and it makes my eyebrows shoot up my forehead. Since when do people see me as a lady? It’s freaky to think about a society that is increasingly thinking about me in terms of being a woman when in fact I feel as much like a girl as I ever have. I shuffle on towards the promise of hot coffee.

It turns out that the rumours were true, and a small café and bookshop is miraculously open despite the weather. The snow outside has been cleared from the path and the icy ground salted so the whole thing is this inviting haven, the smell of coffee beans wafting out into the frosty air as I approach it.

I order a flat white, which is this new, fancy Australian coffee that all the hipsters are into, and I settle into a soft armchair at the window, cradling the little cup in my cold hands and looking out over the flurries of soft snow that have begun to fall outside.

I look at my phone then, lingering on the messages from Dean again and I realise that this whole situation makes me feel a bit sick. I’m confused. It’s clear that he made a fool of himself at my party, it’s clear that my friends vehemently disapprove of him and it’s also clear that I deserve better than him and yet it’s hard for me to shake the feelings I have for him. It’s not like I’m in love with him or anything, not by a long shot, but I haven’t felt much of anything for anybody in what feels like the longest time. It’s hard to let it go. My thumb lingers over the keyboard, almost ready to tell him that I’m free and willing to see him again, but then I stop myself and take a book from the shelf behind me so I can keep my hands distracted.

The caffeine leaves me feeling a bit jittery and anxious when I leave the café and head back outside, so I decide to take a brisk walk down the street and into the Christchurch Cathedral grounds, where the same flower beds that bloomed with tulips last week are covered in a thick sheet of snow. The roof of the cathedral is dusted in white and gives the entire building the quaint, nostalgic appearance of a gingerbread house, an ostentatiously festive scene considering it’s early spring now. I do a lap of the grounds, my feet sinking into the virgin snow with a satisfying crunch.

Prev // Next

#sims #sims 4 #ts4 #simlit #sims 4 story #sims story #writing #fiction #romance #sims4 storytelling #sims 4 storyetelling #sims storytelling #lucky girl part 2

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ninjababypowpow · 4 months ago

Note

Hi there !

So. You said something about A DETROIT BECOME HUMAN AU ???? AND A SPIES AGENCY AU ?????

Tell me everything you want to share please please please !!

I'll buy you in cookies in exchange 🥺🥺

*cracks knuckles* BUCKLE IN CHUCKLELOVE

The Detroit Become Human AU (Words in the Heart, bc I am pterry trash) borrows liberally from the gameand also a bit from a tv show called Almost Human, which is VERY GOOD and it has Karl Urban in it. Basicallly Bacara is Hank, more or less, without the sad backstory, he's just a grump who doesn't like androids. Obviously, he gets assigned a new partner, who is an android. Prototype Model CC-1010, who is at the same time exactly and not at all like Bacara expected. TOGETHER THEY FIGHT CRIME They eventually stumble upon a string of murders done by androids who then...basically committed brain suicide? They deleted their own memory core and programming. (During this they meet a host of supporting characters, like Android Rights Activist Maul Opress and his brothers, who specializes in being an asshole to humans and nice to androids and who may or may not run a scheme to smuggle androids out of the country to more openminded ones, rookie!Cop Rex who once almost puked on a corpse and is forever on Bacara's shitlist for that, pleasure bot Cody who may or may not be leader of an extremely subtle revolution and many more! For you, a snippet!

The drive to the scene was awkward as shit. Bacara kept glancing to the man - machine - sitting next to him, who kept staring at him. Eventually he couldn’t take it anymore. “What?” “Nothing, Detective.” Bacara ground his teeth. “You’re staring at me.” “Yes, I am watching you.” “It’s fucking unnerving. Stop it.” “Would you like me to close my eyes?” “What? No, just - just look out the window or something. Jesus Christ.” The android turned his head and began staring out the window. The ride returned to the previous awkward silence. “What’s your name anyway?” Bacara finally asked, prompting the android to look over at him again. “My designation is CC-1010, Detective.” The duh was not spoken but heavily implied. “That’s a fucking mouthful to say. Don’t you have a name I can call you?” The LED flashed yellow, whirring for a long time, then very abruptly turned red and stopped completely. The android’s face remained completely passive throughout, but when it turned red he frowned for just a moment. Then the LED returned to blue and his face smoothed out. “You may choose whatever alternate designation you wish.” Bacara huffed. “I’m not naming you like you’re a pet or something. Pick your own damn name.” The LED went yellow again. Back to blue. “I…will think about it, Detective.” The android looked at him for a moment more and then turned his gaze back out the window. Bacara grumbled. Leave it to Androids to make everything complicated.

woooohoooooo

THE SPY AGENCY AU (Who Wants To Live Forever) features the good guys, FORCE and the evil organization SITH feuding against each other for years when SITH send their currently best asset, one of KaminoLabs most successful trainees, Cipher Nine (also know as Fox), to "defect" and thus infiltrate FORCE. Fox does this, thinking it will be easy. And it really is, too, these agents of FORCE are so soft it's kind of embarrassing SITH has so much trouble with them. And then Fox becomes part of the squad. And experiences what living is for the first time, instead of existing. But he is still technically a double agent, even as his loyalties slowly, but inexorably shift... This one borrows a lot of Marvel stuff - SHIELD and HYDRA and so on. Fox is Black Widow completely with the Red Room (here KaminoLabs) Another snippet!

Time to start acting. It really didn't take much. A few faked moments of vulnerability here and there, carefully avoiding civilian casualties, handing coins to a few homeless kids. Acting reluctant to kill the agents during an encounter. "You're Cipher Nine, right? We saw you were on a mission here." A show of hesitation. "So what?" Fox let a slight tinge of curiosity into his voice. Hook… "We saw how you avoided harming innocents." Innocents, Fox rolled his eyes mentally. "I…" another hesitant pause. "I achieved the mission goal." "Yeah, sure. But you don't really want to do these things, right?" "I don't have a choice. SITH doesn't tolerate failure or…disobedience." Line… "We can help you. You can leave. FORCE would take you in, I swear." Fox let relief show in his eyes, along with a heaping dose of tentative hope, and lowered his gun. "Really?" He asked with a wavering voice. He could almost see Agent Lightning puff up in morally righteous protectiveness. "Really. Just lower your gun and let me bring you in." Sinker.

they are both really big projects and are mocking me mercilessly, but I love them. They're both Foxcare, too, though Fox has to die in the spy au first before something really happens there. (Also, Ponds gets his leg blown off, sorry Ponds)

I really, really appreciate your excitement and love! It makes me smile so wide and really fires me up to write more, even though I am currently in MtaS porn hell.

[]~(￣▽￣)~*

#tori answers

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dujour13 · 1 year ago

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♦: Slow dancing - have to go with it, chief

@wonda-ch Thanks to both of you. 🥰 This one was nice.

There's a soundtrack to it if you want the full experience.

---

The Queen’s victory ball nearly spiraled into chaos.

First the Cavalry Sculptors started a food fight. Then after the banquet, once everyone was good and tipsy, Siavash played a couple of rousing songs and soon Sosiel and Trever had most of the guests ranged in lines, bowing, locking elbows, spinning each other around and stomping their heels in an Andoren farandole that made the chandeliers shake.

Even Woljif got swept up in it, and light as he was on his feet he picked up the steps pretty quickly. The only problem was the danger his tail posed to his partners’ shins as he spun past. Seelah threatened to strangle him with it.

It was when the Valhalflings pulled the tablecloths crashing to the floor so that they could dance on the tables that the Queen made an urgent sign to the orchestra to tone it down a notch.

At the lull in the music the dancers paused, laughing breathlessly. And then the musicians struck up a slow, romantic waltz and there was a lot of awkward bidding for partners.

Daeran bowed deeply to Ember and offered his arm. Sosiel and Aron immediately flew together as if they had been waiting for this moment all evening. Lann drunkenly threw caution to the wind and invited Queen Galfrey to dance, and then looked like he would die of embarrassment when she assented. Seelah spun around laughing, assaulted on all sides by would-be suitors, until her eyes and hands locked with Arueshalae’s.

Woljif tried to make himself inconspicuous.

Not that he had anything to hide. Everyone knew. With Siavash all but yelling it from the rooftops, not to mention the prodigious Fifth Crusade rumor mill churning out all sorts of sordid tales, he reckoned you’d have to be a deaf hermit in the middle of the Casmaron desert not to know the Knight-Commander had a thing with some street tiefling from Kenabres.

And then there was the clear blue sapphire flashing at his throat, and all it signified to him and to everyone in their entourage. Belonging. Yet also freedom.

So why did the prospect of slow dancing in front of everyone at the victory ball make him want to go invisible and slink away? Or better yet, spread his new wings and fly off with the Queen’s silverware in his pockets?

Must be the public mushy stuff that was putting him off. And he could just hear what Gran would say, rubbing elbows with the toffs like some kind of—

Before he could inch behind a floral arrangement, Siavash stepped up and bent near to the floor in a flourishing bow modeled after Daeran’s, made all the more florid by his ballroom finery: cloud-blue satin with gold embroidery, lace at his throat and cuffs, a sash the color of sunlight at his waist, burgundy trousers tucked into boots so polished they reflected the lamplight. As the leaf-green ribbon tying back his hair had lost most of the battle by now, he laughingly blew escaped locks out of his face as he rose, one hand behind his back, the other raised to Woljif.

“Chief, that get-up.”

“So rob me. Come here.”

“Fine,” Woljif sighed.

Clasping the offered hand he was drawn into an embrace, and the momentum swung him around and into the dance step before he knew what was happening.

Had a hush fallen over the ball or was it just that the Valhalflings had gone hoarse? Or perhaps everyone else had dropped away and they were suddenly alone.

He let Siavash guide his steps to the gentle three-four time of the piano. Like in bed or on the battlefield their bodies naturally fell into rhythm together, every shift of muscle against his chest an unspoken cue, the music moving through Siavash and into Woljif, lifting them along like leaves on a gentle breeze. He pulled him closer. The scent of him, the warmth, the enfolding arms. The tickle of that honey-colored hair falling across his nose. Hearts beating in tandem.

Hearts beating.

He was still here.

Woljif laid his palm to his chest, to the place where the wound had threatened to split him apart and take him away from him.

It was over and they’d survived—better than survived—and that broken, lonely future he’d envisioned at Threshold had not come true.

Tenderly a violin joined the piano as if the music were reading his thoughts.

He realized his hand had clenched the fabric at Siavash’s shoulder and buried his face against his neck to stifle the rising tide of a sob.

The music swelled and spun them together, weaving their steps. With his eyes closed he could imagine them flying side by side, the wind braided in their wake.

Free.

The violence of the Crusade was behind them now. The Worldwound was closed and Siavash’s wound was healed.

The hand at his waist braced for a dip and with unquestioning trust he went with it, the hand steadily lifting him once again.

His own wounds, too, were healed. That gaping hole of need at last closed. Everything was all right. For the first time in his life, clear skies ahead.

That crazy Andoren had grinned and told him “It’ll be fine,” and it was.

Finally.

The chief had made a spectacular bet and won. Wiped the floor with old Goat-Face, swiped a crystal right out from under Nocticula’s nose, crushed Deskari like a bug, told Iomedae where she could stuff her advice, seized the power of a demon lord and turned it into sunshine and butterflies.

And took the hand of the lowliest street tiefling in Mendev and showed him love.

The lips pressed to his forehead moved. “We did it, Woljif.”

We—not just the chief. It was true. They accomplished all of it together. In step.

It was his turn to guide Siavash into a dip and a graceful turn.

“Sure lucky I didn’t hightail it and leave you to deal with all of that on your own,” he murmured.

“I never would have managed without you.”

Woljif felt Siavash’s breath hitch in his chest. Where his forehead met his cheek a tear pooled.

“I mean that. My love.”

A whisper: “I know, chief.”

Siavash pulled him so close they could only sway with the music, and so they remained, clinging to one another, unaware everyone else had stopped dancing.

At last Woljif raised his eyes and in the soft lamplight they sought each other’s gaze through wet lashes. Siavash took his chin in his hand and raised it gently, and leaned in for a kiss.

#pathfinder: wrath of the righteous #woljif jefto #siavash #siavash x woljif #fanfic #thanks for the prompt!#silversiren1101 #wonda ch #pwotr pals

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lexosaurus · 2 years ago

Text

Everything Was White: Part 20

[see all chapters]

read on: [ao3] [ffn] (please read tags)

Summary: After being accidentally revealed to the public and taken away by the government, Danny deals with the aftermath of his time with the GIW.

****

If Danny thought that Vlad was going to be subtle about picking him up from school, he was sorely mistaken.

“Daniel!” Vlad said, stepping out of the main office and opening his arms for a hug. “Little Badger, it has been so long since I’ve seen you last!”

Behind him, whispers broke out.

“Is that the mayor? Why is he getting Fenton?”

“Don’t you remember? He paid for Danny’s court fees.”

“Do they know each other?”

So embarrassing, Danny internally groaned, pushing himself toward Vlad. Once he got close enough, he paused, giving Vlad just enough time to make a grandiose display of hugging him.

“My favorite nephew!” Vlad’s bony arms poked into his spine.

“Do you mind?” Danny hissed into his ear. “I don’t know if you heard, but I broke my back.”

Vlad pulled back, his eyes narrowing for a brief moment before the mask was back on full display. He stood, laughing joyously. “Oh, but that was ages ago, Little Badger. Come, we have much to do before your outpatient appointment!”

If possible, Danny’s cheeks grew even hotter. He followed Vlad out the doors of the school to see a sleek black car parked along the curb. It was some vintage model—Danny didn’t know or care—but he assumed at a glance that it was worth more than his life.

Vlad oh so graciously opened the passenger door for him, saying something obnoxious as he did so. Danny tuned him out, transferring into the car and folding his arms, refusing to look at the peeking faces in the window who were more than likely whispering their hypotheses to each other.

“No driver today?” Danny asked.

Vlad picked up the wheelchair and glanced around it, clearly lost.

“It doesn’t fold if that’s what you’re wondering,” Danny said, his tone icy. “Just shove it in the back of your car.”

“Of course, Little Badger.” Vlad all but pranced to the trunk of the car. “And no, I sent my driver on a day off today. I wanted to spend some time with you, nephew.”

Danny snorted in derision but let the comment slide. He was willing to play along with Vlad’s tomfoolery if it meant the end goal would be met.

Vlad stowed the wheelchair and hopped into the driver's seat, shutting the door beside him.

And then it was just the two of them. Alone. In Vlad’s car.

“To my house, I presume?” Vlad asked, any semblance of the doting uncle gone from his voice.

Danny breathed out, trying to expel the building tension in his chest. It didn’t work. “Yeah. Your house.”

“So you have wished it, so shall it be.”

“Shut up.”

Vlad turned the car on, and the sound of classical piano filled the tense air between them. He peeled out of the parking lot, and off they went.

It had been so long since it was just the two of them alone together. Danny had almost forgotten how ruthless the awkward silence could be. How unforgiving Vlad’s dark demeanor could be. How much it made him want to snap, to lash out, to punch or hit something.

Or someone.

But he couldn’t do that today. No, today he was here to proctor peace.

Or, a blackmailed version of peace.

But Vlad must have known Danny’s intentions already, right? So then why had he agreed to this? Why had he willingly picked Danny up from school?

You already know why, don’t you, Fentoid? He said it to you. Told you that you were a liability. Reckless, impulsive. That you needed to be under his control.

Except, wasn’t it due to him that you ended up in this situation at all?

“You know…” Danny started, cutting through the dark, internal cloud. “You didn’t have to be so over the top with the stupid uncle stuff.”

Vlad tutted. “My, Daniel, you should know that wasn’t an act.”

“Yeah, it was.” Danny let his head lull back against the seat. “And telling everyone I’m still in outpatient was an asshole move.”

“That one was just for fun.”

“I know. Believe me.”

“But please, as if everyone didn’t already know. You’ve done a perfectly wonderful job of making yourself look unstable enough as it is.”

“I’m sorry, how—how exactly have I done that?” Danny snapped, glaring at the piece of shit halfa before him. “I’ve done everything right since I left the hospital.”

“Daniel, look at your accomplishments since! You only managed to land yourself on suicide watch followed by months of constant supervision! And then confronting a government agent in school? Eyes glowing like a dangerous ghost on the brink of a rampage? But of course, boy, if you say so, then you’re doing wonderful.”

Oh, he was so done with people bringing inpatient up. “Yeah okay, I got tortured by the government, but sure, let’s all blame Danny because he got upset at school one time! Let’s blame Danny because the govern—government fucking stalked him!” Danny bunched his hands into fists and squeezed them at his side. Damn it, he wanted to punch Vlad so fucking bad it wasn’t even funny.

“Yes! Don’t you see, child? The public will blame you!”

Danny’s fists flew up to his hair, and he pulled at his scalp.

“You are in a delicate situation. One slip-up and you can set everyone against you. You’re an anomaly, do you understand? You and I both know that ghosts aren’t inherently dangerous, but do they?”

“My parents are working on it.”

“Yes, right. Your parents. You mean the parents of the half-ghost child that was taken by the government? The parents who were in mourning and were desperate for their child to come home to them? Those parents? The same ones who conveniently went from twenty years of anti-ghost propaganda to now retracting their own publications at the same time their son was taken from them for being part ghost? Those parents?”

Danny shut his eyes, pulling his hair tighter.

“In case you haven’t seen the court case yet, child—and judging by this conversation, I’m inclined to believe that you have not—it wasn’t exactly a blowout. The time, money, and resources, the strings that I personally had to pull to get you out legally were more than enough to put you on some indescribably thin ice.”

The heat in Danny’s body evaporated at once, and ice pooled in his stomach. His hands loosened, then fell from their position on his head, and he looked over at Vlad’s grimacing face with wide eyes.

But why…hang on, was Vlad scared?

Danny’s voice detached from his body. “Who did you overshadow?”

The gentle tapping of Vlad’s finger against the steering wheel was deafening in the silence of the car.

Danny’s voice was more forceful this time. “Vlad, who?”

“Calm yourself, child. Nothing got picked up on camera if that’s what you’re worried about.”

If anything, that made it worse. Danny heard his breathing pick up, his chest grow tight. He felt his fingers shake and any bit of hope exit his body.

Vlad groaned, more than likely feeling Danny’s heightened emotions. “It was a few members of the jury and the defense lawyer on certain occasions. As well as others who had the power to move the case along more quickly. The jury members I selected were either alcoholics, had substance abuse problems, or other personal issues that could cause high amounts of stress. As for the defense lawyer and the others, I only overshadowed them in their offices. No cameras.”

“Am I—did we even win that case?”

Vlad was silent for a moment, and Danny could see him mulling over his response.

“Vlad!” he tried to shout, but it came out more choked than not.

“I couldn’t leave you in there. You’re too valuable to my personal safety. And…regardless of what you believe, in some twisted way, I do think of you as my son.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“You’re young. It’s easy to forget that with how much you flaunt your powers like a peacock. It’s annoying, honestly. But it’s also a reminder that you don’t understand how politics work, especially when a potential weapon that the federal government appears particularly interested in is up for grabs.”

“What are you talking about? Vlad, was…was the government rigging the case?”

“Well, if they tried, they didn’t succeed, did they?” Vlad gave him a sideways glance as they pulled into his driveway. “No thanks to me, anyway.”

Danny’s head was spinning. “But I thought there was a jury?”

“And you think that alone makes a fair trial? Or that cases can’t be delayed for years?” Vlad scoffed. “Please, your innocence is showing. Come, let’s go inside. And I know you don’t care, but I will be leaving you with an elementary-level school project to show off to any potential onlookers, so you better put it to use.”

But as Danny began the process of getting out of the car and planning how the hell he was supposed to get up Vlad’s front steps without his walker (he’d be damned if he asked that asshole for help), he could feel the panic grow, and with it all the different what-if scenarios that came with it.

“You don’t know that no one caught on to you,” Danny said, undoing the brakes on his wheelchair and following Vlad down his front path. “Or that no one will notice anything wrong looking back at the courtroom tapes. Or the person—the people overshadowed won’t…I don’t know, realize they’re missing time or something.”

Vlad climbed the steps of his walkway and stood by his door, frowning down at Danny as he scootched his body up the stairs backward, dragging his wheelchair with him.

“Tch—this is just embarrassing for you.” Vlad ripped both the wheelchair and Danny from the ground and shoved them through his front door.

“Hey, get your hands off me!” Danny growled, begrudgingly settling back down into his wheelchair.

The sight of Packers memorabilia assaulted his view, clashing against the medieval purple interior of Vlad’s home. The mansion was just as massive on the inside as it appeared on the outside, with tall ceilings and plush furniture smattered about. But despite the massive fireplace with its pink ecto-fire and all the tall windows with their heavy drapes, when Danny was inside Vlad’s home, all he felt was cold.

And not the pleasant kind of chill, the ecto-frost that nipped at his fingertips. This kind of cold was different. It was lonely. Foreboding.

“Vlad, I can’t go back…” Danny’s stomach turned. “You have no idea—”

“Frankly, I do have an idea. But really, Daniel, it’s like you’ve forgotten that I have twenty years of experience at having a ghost half. Do you think I’m some infant ball of ectoplasm like you that can’t prevent my eyes from glowing when I want them to? That I didn’t do any test runs before enacting my plan on your case? That I didn’t cover my tracks and make sure every single person had some sort of reason for any time they might not remember? Or fill in any spaces in their memories artificially?” Vlad stalked over to his liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of wine. “I know you’re not one to pay attention to the details, but I am.”

“Oh, right, because you so paid attention to—to all the details when you gave Skulker that weapon that revealed me!”

Vlad poured himself a glass, studying the swirling liquid before he sighed. “I admit that my calculations didn’t account for Technus’s interference in Skulker’s equipment. But I assure you, with the severity of the situation, I did not engage in anything I wasn’t sure I could get away with. My many years of underhanded deals and market manipulations were to your benefit. You should be thanking me.”

“I’m not thanking you for fucking up, costing me my life, and then—and then scrambling to undo your mistake.”

“Suit yourself.” Vlad shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “Either way, you’re out, and I still have my secret intact.”

Danny narrowed his eyes. “Vlad…what exactly do you know?”

“Hmm?” Vlad grinned, setting his glass down on his expensive mahogany table.

“Like, from…” Danny’s heart rate picked up again. “From inside the facility. You know, with…me.”

“I told you already, didn’t I? I have resources.”

“Yes, but—but—” Danny broke off. He didn’t know if the increased pressure in his head was due to frustration, fear, or a mix of both. “What resources are you even talking about? What do you know?”

Vlad took another long sip of his wine, draining half the glass in one gulp. “They had a running game with you after your escape attempt.”

Danny went rigid.

“The game worked in that they would present some small amount of food, usually some packaged food like a granola bar, and they would order you to eat it. And when you couldn’t do it for one reason or another, then they would—”

“Okay!” Danny yelled, cutting Vlad off.

“What?” Vlad smirked. “I thought you would have wanted to hear how it ended.”

“How did you—how do you know? How do you know about that?”

“I thought I told you. Resources.”

Danny had the sudden urge to bash his head against the wall. “What resources? Did you—did you overshadow an…agent or something? Have a guy on the—the inside?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then what? Stop being an asshole and tell me.”

“I have money, Daniel. And money can buy so much. Pictures, videos, documentation. All of it.”

Danny’s fingers twitched, and he didn’t resist the pull when they flew up to his hair again. “So…so who else knows?”

“Other than the gentleman I hired? No one for now. So long as you be a good boy and keep your mouth shut, then you have nothing to worry about. But I warn you,” Vlad said, leaning down to Danny. “One little slip to Maddie and I’ll make sure everyone sees that game you all had so much fun playing in your cell. And you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

Danny sat statue-still, too frozen to speak. He wasn’t even sure if he was breathing. His head fogged, his vision spun, his chest burned, and nausea was creeping up his throat.

But perhaps this was the confirmation Vlad was looking for because he straightened back up, plucked his empty wine glass from the table, and set it in the sink atop the liquor bar. “So, Little Badger, to what do I owe the pleasure of this excursion?”

“Huh?” Danny managed out, trying to force away the incoming panic attack.

“Surely the science project couldn’t just be these little tiffs between us. Not when you made such a big show of calling me. Have you forgotten what ghost powers are? Or did you forget that my entire house is lined with material that throws off ecto-sensors?”

“Um…” Danny shook his head, fighting away the dizziness. He forced his fingers to release their grip on his hair and return to his wheelchair. “Uh—no. No, I just—I, uh—I can’t…go ghost. I can’t use my ghost powers.”

Vlad’s brows shot up. “Still? They never removed the inhibitor device?”

“Wouldn’t you—didn’t you already know this? You bugged our house,” Danny pointed out.

“If you must know, Daniel, I have been away these past few weeks on business and vacation in Europe. And despite what your narcissism may tell you, I don’t spend my entire days watching your parents.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“But looking at your history of emotional outbursts, I understand why your parents have decided to keep your core locked up.”

Danny gritted his teeth, then let a deep breath out.

In, two, three…out, two, three.

“I know. I know how this looks,” Danny said. “How I look. But…but you’re like me. You understand, right? You—you know what this is doing to me? To my ghost half?”

Vlad pursed his lips, giving Danny a hard stare from above.

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t. Not with—with the government breathing down my neck. I—I—I feel like I’m in danger all the time. I can’t remember the last time that there wasn’t this…this claw in my chest squeezing me. I feel like I’m going crazy all the time and nobody seems to care, nobody gets it. They all just tell me to keep—to keep working hard and…well, one day the chip will come out. But I can’t. I just can’t—I can’t keep improving if—if it’s…I’m being suffocated.”

Vlad sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You want me to remove it.”

“Yes.”

“Because your parents won’t remove it, your friends won’t help, I’m guessing, and you think that I will.”

“...yes.”

“Then tell me this.” Vlad let his hand drop to his side. “Tell me what exactly you plan on telling your parents once they figure out what you did.”

“They won’t know. I’ve hidden Phantom from them before, I can do it again.”

“Because you were hiding in plain sight, Daniel!” Vlad snapped. “You may have tried some bullshit on everyone else with your promises of staying out of trouble, but I’m a halfa just the same as you! I know that once your core wants something, your adolescent, infant ghost mind will leave you right out in the open acting as a hero once again!”

“I won’t!”

“Don’t lie to me, you will! And your parents know this too! It’s why they’ve kept the chip in your body, isn’t it? Because they know that as soon as a Skulker, a Johnny 13, a Spectra comes into this realm to cause mayhem, you won’t be able to stop yourself from leaping into trouble!”

“Then that’s my fucking problem to deal with!” Danny shouted, glaring up at Vlad with glowing eyes. “If I get caught, then I’ll tell them one of my ghost allies did it for me! It’s not illegal for Phantom to exist anymore, right? Then the only—only issues are my parents, and I’m sorry if you don’t want to go against my mom’s wishes, but you know that if—if this stays in me for too much longer, it’s going to ruin me! It’s—the government is going to ruin me.”

To Danny’s surprise, Vlad’s eyes did not glow in return.

“They’ll take me, you know they will. If—if they were bold enough to rig a trial, then they’ll be bold enough to kidnap me and stage my suicide or something. Which, let’s be honest, that wouldn’t be so fucking hard to convince people of! If I can’t—I can’t defend myself, then you get fucked over too.” Danny let go of the intensity in his glare, letting his aura seep back into his body. “If you really want to keep your secret safe, then give me my core back. Please. I don’t know how much more I can take this.”

“Fine.” Vlad turned and started walking toward his office.

Danny blinked. “Huh?”

“I said fine, we have a deal. Come, I can remove it in the lab.”

“Oh…oh!” Danny hurried after Vlad.

“I really do prefer you this way, unable to walk,” Vlad said, pausing at his office door. He turned back to Danny and remarked, “You know, as much as you like to state otherwise, I have taught you so much. Manipulating my secret? Using your own Obsessive tendencies against me? Very well done, Daniel.”

Danny halted, his heart leaping to his throat.

Vlad chuckled at his reaction. “Oh, but you didn’t think that slipped by me, did you? Please, child, I recognized myself in you instantly. But, you do have a point. The government is unpredictable, and getting you out once was already annoying enough. And even worse, it would be quite inconvenient PR for us if you had another public meltdown because you couldn’t access your core. So in that case, I’d rather see the chip removed.”

Danny followed Vlad into his office where the older halfa shut the door, locked it, and opened the entrance to his lab.

“Uh…” Danny wheeled up to the many tiled stairs, feeling his hands grow clammy on his wheelchair.

“Get off, I’ll carry it down for you,” Vlad instructed, holding his hand out.

“Um, thanks?”

Vlad scoffed. “Please, I’m only doing this because, with your body as disgustingly human as it is, we’ll be here for hours if you try to transport it down the stairs by yourself.”

Danny slid off his wheelchair and onto the carpet, feeling more than a little small under Vlad, who—the asshole halfa that he was—made sure to flair his aura out a bit as he snatched Danny’s wheelchair from next to him.

That dick.

“We’re under a time crunch,” Vlad spoke up as he descended the steps with ease. “The anesthesia will take some time to kick in, so please do come down sometime this century.”

Danny gritted his teeth and began the task of carefully scooting himself down the steps. “What do you mean, anesthesia?”

“I can’t have you squirming around, Little Badger. Not unless you want to go from paraplegic to quadriplegic! Which, if you’d like, I’m more than happy to make that happen.”

“That’s not funny.”

“On the contrary, I think it’s quite humorous.”

“I’m not kidding, Vlad. If—if you do anything—”

Danny heard Vlad dramatically sigh from around the bend. “As if I’d risk Maddie’s love by ruining her only son even further.”

“Will you cut that out? Jesus, you don’t have to be such a villainous asshole all the time. And besides,” Danny said, remembering the Paralympic athlete, “I’ve met paraplegics who are ten times what you’ll ever be. People with legit—legitimate jobs, families who love them—all things that you’ll never have. So shut the fuck up.”

“I’m sorry, was I not about to save your life just now?” Vlad’s tone was light, but the pressure coming off his aura was enough to let Danny know he had struck a nerve. “Keep running your mouth and I’ll pick you up and throw you in the portal. We can see how well you fare in the Zone by yourself with no ghost powers.”

Not for the first time today, Danny wished he had a way to contact Frostbite. At this point, he would even take Skulker over Vlad. Though being defenseless around a ghost that wanted his head as a trophy was probably a bad idea.

“The clock is ticking!” Vlad called out.

“I’m coming!”

Danny slid down the last few steps before pulling himself up and bracing his body against the cold metal wall. It had been a while since he was in Vlad’s lab, and everything looked mostly the same. The test tubes were still carefully lined on their shelves, Vlad’s various machines were stationed around the room, and his pristine portal—much shinier than his parents’ portal—was still nestled into the far wall.

In the middle of the room, Vlad was fiddling with his supplies. Next to him was an empty metal table.

Danny remembered a table like that.

He remembered the last time he was strapped down to it.

The dark chuckle above him. The fingers that ghosted his bare torso, savoring the touch of his skin before they ripped into his body, breaking bones, slicing nerves, and tearing muscles alike.

“Well, hurry up, child.” Vlad carted over a smaller table of tools.

“Uh…” Danny’s eyes were glued to the table. He could feel the thoughts begin to swim in his head, and he wished he had taken another pill today.

“Daniel, don’t be difficult.”

“Huh?” Danny blinked. “Oh. Sorry.”

Stalking over to him, Vlad grabbed Danny’s arm and dragged him over to the table. “Honestly, child, you would be nowhere without me. Of course I can’t just phase the chip out of your body; your mother was actually the one who told me she made it phase-proof. Perhaps she didn’t want you trying anything, hmm?”

Danny couldn’t find it in him to react. He just kept staring at his reflection on the table, slightly warped, clouded, but still him nonetheless.

He wondered how he looked back then. With the Guys in White.

“Take your sweatshirt off and get on the table.”

Danny’s eyes snapped up. “What?”

“The table. Get up on it. And take your top off.”

“Oh…uh…” Danny lifted his sweatshirt off and tossed it aside. He felt naked in even just a T-shirt, and he fumbled with the hem, suddenly facing second thoughts about the chip in the first place.

Other than the doctors and surgeons, no one outside of his family had seen his quilted torso.

“You can leave your T-shirt on.”

Danny tried to not let his shuddering relief be too audible. He gripped the table with his hand, surveying if he even could maneuver his body onto it.

“Must I do everything for you?”

Before Danny could protest, Vlad was heaving him onto the table.

“Jeez.” Danny coughed at the sudden jerk. “A little warning would be nice?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Now, I’m going to give you some anesthesia, and I’ll be able to cut on your previous incision line and pull out the chip.”

“Can’t I stay awake?” He knew he had failed to hide the whining from his voice. “I won’t squirm, I promise.”

Vlad didn’t dignify him with a response, instead pulling out a needle with some liquid inside.

“I—I really will be fine, you know.”

Vlad’s sigh was sharp this time. “Daniel, I’ll only be giving you a local anesthetic. You won’t even fall asleep. Honestly, I would prefer to put you under, but with the time crunch and your terrible acting, I don’t want to be held responsible for any delirious state when your parents pick you up in a few hours. Now lie down.”

“Oh. Okay.” Danny’s breathing slowed. He shifted his body until he was lying on his stomach. The skin on his chest prickled at the pressure, but he ignored it.

“Alright, this will be very quick. You’ll have your ghost powers back after this, but try not to run off.”

Danny grunted in acknowledgment, his throat dry. His stomach flipped over, and he wasn’t sure if it was from nerves or excitement.

After this, he would have his ghost half back. He would be whole again.

“Okay.” He breathed out. “I’m ready.”

“Let’s begin.”

There was a pinch in his neck followed by a wash of cold. Vlad’s fingers prodded around his neck, and another pinch followed.

“It’ll take a few minutes to kick in.”

Danny grunted in acknowledgment. The cold table was incredibly distracting. He forced his eyes forward to remind himself that he was in Vlad’s lab. Not THAT lab, the lab he was taken to every night in his nightmares.

“It’s not too far down in your neck, you know,” Vlad said. “I can actually feel it when I press here.”

“Fascinating.”

Vlad chuckled. “You’re chipped like a little dog, aren’t you?”

Danny hated how he flinched. He hated the immediate, instinctive plummeting in his gut. Hated the way it was so obvious he was in pain when he hissed, “Fuck you.”

“Oh, I do jest.”

“It’s not—not fucking funny.”

He hated how Vlad could just do that. How he had the power to instantly make Danny feel horrible.

Especially since Vlad—it had to be Vlad—had videos of what happened. And he, apparently, still didn’t care.

He had videos, Danny realized all over again. He knew there were security cameras everywhere, but they had recorded it? And saved those recordings?

But why? What purpose could they possibly gain from holding recordings of Operative O tormenting Danny?

Something ugly curled inside him. And he thought that maybe…maybe they had saved it for fun. As something to look back on and laugh.

Because his pain was so amusing, right? That was why Vlad had joked. It had to be.

“Alright.” Vlad bent over his neck. “Can you feel this?”

“No.”

“Excellent.”

Danny didn’t ask what Vlad was doing behind him. He didn’t want the details, he decided. He didn’t care.

But he knew anyway the instant the chip left his body. A frost over his skin, the pulse of his repressed core flashing outward. He was sure, then, that if he had a mirror, his eyes would be glowing.

The ectoplasmic energy rushed around his body, both inside and out. It was beautiful and dazzling and it felt like taking a fresh breath of air after spending months in a polluted city.

“I’m not finished yet, so please contain yourself,” said Vlad.

Danny forced his breathing to slow again, forced his body to calm down. But he couldn’t help the excitement, the sudden spark of adrenaline, and that something else he hadn’t even tried to explain to Sam and Tucker before.

His throat tightened, and he couldn’t help the sudden rush of emotions that threatened to spill. After so so long feeling empty inside, feeling broken, finding the other half of him again was magical.

“You’re such a young ghost,” Vlad muttered. “Only a toddler would flail like this.”

But Danny couldn’t even find it in himself to snap at Vlad. Because this—this—was amazing.

“We’re done,” said Vlad.

Danny’s heart thudded, and despite the increasing burning in his chest, he pushed himself up on the table, swinging his legs over the side.

“Well?” Vlad asked.

Danny pressed his hand to his chest. His scarred skin prickled as normal, but even through his T-shirt, he could feel the chill of his core. His fingers pushed down, and something icy pulsed back.

He exhaled, relaxing into his body. His core hummed in response, sending waves of frost through his veins. He raised his hand and with hardly a thought, it was intangible, then invisible, then covered in a thin layer of ice.

Staring at his hand in awe, he pushed further, watching as the layer of frost crept down his forearm in wispy patterns, stopping at his elbow.

Just like he had commanded it.

He brought his other hand out from his chest and repeated the patterns, watching his fingers become transparent, then invisible, then covered in a sheet of white.

This was it.

He breathed out, and snow dotted the air.

He looked over to Vlad with what he was positive were glowing eyes, but for the first time in so long, they weren’t glowing out of anger or hurt. They were glowing simply because they could.

“Go on, child,” Vlad said, his tone strange. “Let’s see if it worked.”

Danny nodded, hardly believing that this was real this was happening. He shifted, scooting farther to the edge of the table, and then triggered his transformation.

It was amazing, really, what an old reflex it felt like. Snapping his body back into ghost mode was little more than just brushing off the dust from an old light switch and flicking it on.

The rings washed over him in a brilliant display of blue and white, and with it, the pulse of his core grew stronger. Waves of ice rushed over him, radiating out and cooling the room. White hair replaced black, and the black material of his hazmat suit cloaked his skin. His aura blazed out, shimmering and blanketing him with its wispy transparent white.

“Well, well, well. Congratulations, child, it looks like most of you remained intact,” Vlad said.

Most of him…

Danny stole a glance down at his legs, or where his legs should have been. Instead, his ghostly tail was on display.

Maybe he could…

Danny closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of having legs. He tried to dig into his subconscious to pull them out, but when he opened his eyes, his tail remained.

And then the inevitable fatigue came crashing down on him, and he lost hold of his transformation. The rings appeared once more, and he was returned to his human form.

Lights spotted his vision, and he swayed in his seat. But he couldn’t find it in him to be upset. “I—I’m back. Vlad, I’m back.”

Vlad rushed over, steadying him before he tipped over the edge of the table. “You are indeed.”

“I can’t believe it.” Danny stared at his human hands once again. Ectoplasm buzzed below his skin, and his senses felt so much sharper than before. “I can—I can feel everything. It’s all—wow. It’s there.”

“You’re welcome, Little Badger.”

“Yeah…” Danny’s hands dropped, and he gave what he might consider a genuine smile to Vlad. “Wow, thank you.”

****

Danny stared up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. It was nearly one in the morning, and he was wide awake. Exhausted yet alert at the same time. His chest burned like hot lava, his fingers trembled at his sides, and he felt like screaming and sobbing all at once even though there was nothing to cry about. No reason to lose his cool.

After all, he should be celebrating. His ghost half was finally back. After all this time, he could feel the chilled frost on his fingertips. He could coat his chest in sheets of ice to relieve the pain.

But that wasn’t enough. He was tired, he wanted to sleep. Desperately. More than anything, he just wanted to sleep.

He couldn’t.

He couldn’t sleep.

He hadn’t been able to sleep for the past two nights. His head pounded in his skull, fatigue blistered his eyelids, and his chest burned.

So tired.

But he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop replaying the events in his brain. He couldn’t stop seeing the glint of the scalpel as Operative O held it above his head, he couldn’t stop seeing his rib reflecting off the sterile lights, he couldn’t stop seeing the tube as it shoved painfully down his throat, he couldn’t stop seeing the camera in the corner of his cell, the vomit next to his head, the white walls, tiles, his skin, the ectoplasm.

A tear leaked from his eye, and he tried to look up. Focus on the stars.

Another wave of pain hit his chest, and he stifled a groan. His back hurt, joints hurt, everything hurt.

He couldn’t—

Why couldn’t he sleep?

He sat up, sending a wave of nausea down his body. He wanted to stop remembering, go to sleep, stop thinking, stop it. Stop it.

Nights were always the hardest.

Before he knew what he was doing, he had transformed into his ghost half. The sudden wash of cold under his skin felt soothing, and he sighed in relief.

Until the relief was replaced by familiarity. Familiarity from his core that yelled at him to fix this, fix what was hurting, protect his body, don’t let the Guys in White catch you with your guard down…don’t let them catch you weak.

He was weak.

And he couldn’t sleep.

He was outside. The winter air felt remarkable on his face, and he spent a moment letting the soft wind kiss his cheeks, his eyelids, his forehead. He took his gloves off and threaded the air between his fingertips.

It was amazing. So relieving.

But the freedom was short-lived, not before the exhaustion hit him again followed by an angry growl from his core.

He willed his gloves back on his hands and flew high in the sky. Being up in the air after so long awakened an old sensation in his body, one he’d nearly forgotten. And like an old muscle being stretched, it felt stiff, almost uncoordinated at first. He went slow and easy, letting himself regain all the rusty movements until he glided with ease once again.

He didn’t think about where he was going, he just let his muscle memory guide him until instinct told him he had arrived.

He pulled up, hovering over the mansion before him.

Sam’s house, he blearily recognized. He hadn’t been here in months, not since June, but nothing had changed. The grass still looked artificially green—far too green for December—and the tall, perfectly manicured hedges still lined the property.

He wasn’t welcome here. He knew that. He also knew that he wasn’t going to follow that rule. Not to see Sam this time, but for…something else.

Invisible now, he floated through the wall around the house. His chest admonished him, sending jolts of pain all over his torso, but he ignored it just like he ignored the fact that he still wasn’t able to form legs from his ghostly tail yet.

It was fine. He was a ghost. He didn’t need legs.

He barely registered where he was going as he traversed the halls. Invisible, of course. Grandma Ida could be shrewd, despite her old age. Part of Danny had been convinced that many months ago, before his reveal, she had already figured out who—or rather, what—he was.

Danny flew through a door and held his breath. The master bedroom in all its overzealous glory greeted his eyesight. He hardly stayed to take in the wealth, though. Not when the temperature drop could be enough to alert the sleeping Pamela of a ghostly invader in her home.

He darted to the bathroom instead. After all, it dawned on him, this had been his goal all along, hadn’t it?

…yes, it had.

He carefully opened her medicine cabinet and stared at the pharmacy before him. Rows and rows of bottles of every color stared back at him, and Danny made quick work of scanning through the list of names. Advil, Ibuprofen, Dramamine, Vasotec…

And then he stopped.

There it was.

Hydrocodone. Right there. Just waiting for him to take it.

But he couldn’t…

That was stealing, it was wrong. He only knew this was here because Sam had been desperate to give him something to relieve the pain one time—taking this was abusing that trust. He couldn’t do that to her. Not Sam, not after everything she’d done for him.

But it wasn’t like Pam needed this. She was healthy, she was fine. She didn’t have any chronic pain issues that required her to take medications.

And besides, she really owed him after all the bullshit she’d taken to spreading about him to the PTA and conservative media outlets.

Yeah. Fuck her.

Danny snatched the bottle and disappeared through the wall.

****

Thank you once again to @imekitty for carrying the weight of my grammar on her shoulders!

****

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#danny phantom #fanfiction #phiccs #my writing #everything was white #the chip

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