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mourntheantagonist · 2 years ago

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Trigonometry

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

warning: explicit. check ao3 for detailed tag list.

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Catching his breath felt like chasing a runaway train—impossible, at least on his own two feet. Fortunately for Steve, he was on his back in a soft warm bed, where if he passed out from a lack of oxygen, at least he wouldn’t hit his head on the way down.

He could feel his heart pounding, hell, he could hear it. It was so loud, so strong, beating through his chest like a parasite trying to escape through his rib cage. His chest heaved, rising and falling without a discernible tempo, chaotic, heavy, labored.

He let his neck relax and his head fall to his left, cheek against his pillow, looking at the occupant of the other side of his bed that was making the sheets feel warm. It was a quick glance, long enough to notice the way she was laying. She was on her side, turned towards him. Her folded arms had come to lay on top of each other, hiding her bare chest, her hands creating a pillow for her head. The thin white sheet on his bed had only come up to cover her just below the waist, draping her hips like a present to be unwrapped.

Steve turned his head back up at the ceiling the moment he caught her eyes looking back at him. She had been laying there, posed like a Greek statue, he should have been ogling her. Normally he’d be smiling, grinning like an absolute fool, but Steve was more focused on his breathing. His heavy, uncontrolled breathing. The breathing that seemed like it should have been a good thing, but, by taking one look at Nancy, was quickly realized to be just the opposite—a bad thing…a really bad thing.

There was an obvious cause for such breathing, or at least, it would appear that way to anyone with the ability to see the scene. He had a Greek goddess, perfectly sculpted, draped in soft linens, naked right beside him. The logical conclusion would be that she had been the perpetrator for such chaotic respiration. Surely, Nancy Wheeler was the girl who rocked Steve’s world.

Steve closed his eyes and tried to tame his lungs, but he couldn’t get the images flashing before his eyes like visions of the past to disappear. Flashbacks. It hadn’t been a daydream or fantasy, it was worse than that, because it was real.

He could smell the scent of Billy’s cheap shampoo.

The water was hot that day, to Steve’s surprise. Normally after gym they could only get the water to run to a nice lukewarm temperature, but that day, for some reason, they had steam.

Or maybe Steve had just been imagining that part, too caught up in the way Billy had been staring at him, looking him up and down without any sense of shame or defense of his own pride.

“You looked better this time, pretty boy.” Billy had said, maybe in reference to his performance on the court—he did sink a three pointer against him during their scrimmage—but with the way Billy was dragging his teeth across his lower lip, his eyes locked in on the center of Steve’s chest, Steve had an inkling it may have been in reference to just that, and the fact Steve had been playing skins that day.

It was very possible that the temperature of the water only felt the way it had because Billy was there, like an open flame making it boil. Billy made him feel hot, so hot, so fucking hot.

It was no surprise to Steve that when Billy touched him, just a squeeze of his shoulder as he walked past him through the showers, it felt like hot lava, melting his skin off all the way down to the bone.

The feeling remained like a phantom, the hand constantly there, squeezing, suggesting…

He couldn’t get the whole thing out of his head. It was just there, a constant memory of stolen glances and eyes that traveled to the southern half of his body.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it—about Billy—no matter how fucking hard he tried.

It had invaded his every thought, to the point that he’d sit in class chewing on the erasers of his pencil because it was the only thing that kept him grounded enough in reality to focus on trigonometry problems and not the fuzzy, aching feeling in his gut.

The same fuzzy, aching feeling in his gut he felt lying next to Nancy, still unable to breathe, still with his heart beating out of his chest.

It came to a head only a few days after the moment in the shower, the same day he and Nancy shared a bed and Steve couldn’t breathe.

It wasn’t planned. Steve sure as shit wasn’t seeking the guy out, in fact, he’d been running from him—or, well, the thought of him. The feeling had become overwhelming. The phantom touch stung and his stomach had descended down to his ankles, trying so hard to keep himself in check until the final bell rang so he could deal with the gnawing sensation in his pants.

He couldn’t, though. Like he was thirteen again, he excused himself to the bathroom, sporting a hopefully invisible semi. He didn’t have time to think about all that it meant, and he didn’t want to, in fact, he was trying desperately not to.

In Steve’s attempts at avoiding the question, he stumbled into the answer the second he walked through the door to the boys bathroom.

Billy was standing there at the urinal, dick out, his stream of piss still active, and Steve only wished he could say he knew Billy had his dick out by logic alone. Pointing to the fact that hey, he was standing by a urinal and he could hear the splattering stream, he just put two and two together. Simple process of deduction. But no, Steve knew because he was looking.

He was standing there, just a foot from the door, like a deer caught in the headlights, staring at Billy’s dick, and he suddenly couldn’t breathe.

“Like what you see?” Billy asked, like an accusation, and Steve didn’t know why he was surprised Billy had said anything. It wasn’t like he was subtle, he was the exact opposite of subtle.

Steve gave Billy’s question no response other than bowing his head, only enough so that it appeared he wasn’t looking, which he definitely still was. He could see that Billy knew he still was.

He watched as Billy rolled his eyes and tucked himself back into his jeans, flushing the urinal and walking over to the sink. That was when Steve felt the kick to his gut. His limbs were vibrating, his heart was pounding, he was grinding his teeth and pinching the skin on his hand so hard it left a mark. He didn’t know where his mind was headed, just that it was running away from him, and in his attempt to catch up with his own thoughts, he allowed his body to give into the temptation standing there on the other side of the bathroom.

Steve walked towards Billy like he was on a mission, and he noticed a subtle shift in Billy’s demeanor as he made his way over. There were three shifts in total in just the span of five seconds. First, he looked annoyed, still rolling his eyes. Then, as Steve got closer and his steps became much heavier, he looked almost frightened, jerking his head away as Steve laid his hand on his chest, palm flat, pushing him into the cinder block wall.

Then, as Billy’s back hit the hard surface, he turned into something else, something not annoyed or scared or even angry—excited.

Steve had his hand pressed firmly into Billy’s shoulder, like he was trying to hold him down and keep him from moving so much as even an inch from where he had pinned him.

They were so close that Steve could feel Billy’s heart beating against his, or, maybe that was just his own, maybe it was Billy who was feeling his heart beating. The fact remained that they were close. Their legs were slotted together, and Steve just knew that Billy could feel it against his thigh, he knew and it made his face heat up at the thought.

He inhaled sharply when he finally opened his eyes all the way, meeting Billy’s gaze at perfect level, so close, noses touching, the two of them breathing the other in, the sweat, cologne, and pheromones were like oxygen to Steve. His breaths were shaky and uncontrolled and every part of his body felt stuck in fixed form.

He didn’t exactly have a plan, and if he did, it would not have included any of the steps that he’d already taken that had got him from point A to point B. If he knew what he was doing, he wouldn’t have Billy pinned to a wall, rock hard in his pants against Billy’s thigh, mouth hung open just inches from Billy’s. He was without a plan, without directions, so he stood there frozen, trying to figure out how to turn off of the road he was cruising down.

“What are you waiting for, pretty boy?” Billy’s voice was deep and sultry, ringing in his ears like the bass in a song. He felt it everywhere from his head to his toes, overcoming him like a wave, pulling him under and drowning him. Water in his ears. Water up his nose. Everything was blocked off and plugged up and he couldn’t hear, breathe, or see anymore. Not enough that it mattered anyway.

Steve knew he missed his turnoff several miles ago, and it was dumb to think he could veer off the road by the time he’d had Billy pinned to the wall. He was driving on a cliff's edge, nowhere to turn, only forward. Steve wouldn’t have allowed it if he had any other choice, or maybe he would have, he still didn’t know if the water had been that hot that day in the showers. He let his own confusion win, surging forward, slamming his lips into Billy’s and clutching the fabric of his jacket so tight his fist cramped, searching with his lips, driven by curiosity to find answers to the questions he didn’t want to have in the first place.

Billy tasted like cigarettes and cinnamon.

That was the taste Steve still had in his mouth when he filled up his condom, thrusting into Nancy. She certainly had curly hair, very frizzy and untamed where she was laying underneath him. But she certainly wasn’t blonde, not like the person who he’d been thinking about when he came harder than he could ever remember.

The whole time, he pretended as if Nancy’s dainty and soft hands were big, calloused and strong, gripping him tightly and leaving little crescent shaped indentations. He pretended her breaths were Billy’s, and her warmth was Billy’s, and it was so bad, horrible, because it felt so fucking good.

Nancy had seen him turn away from her. He knew she had. He knew he fucked up. He couldn’t breathe.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, and Steve almost laughed. Instead, he brought his hands up to cover his face, dragging them down, groaning, not doing much to quell the idea that something was wrong. He took a deep breath, but didn’t answer her question, at least not with words anyway.

“Steve,” she said, rolling over and placing a hand on his chest, running her fingers through the coarse hair, “talk to me.”

Steve just brought his hands back up and didn’t drag them down that time. He covered his face and let the tears that were pricking at his eyes escape and roll down his cheeks. He loved Nancy. He hated lying to her. He didn’t want to hurt her. Yet, there he was, trying to pick which one of those to ignore because he couldn’t tell the truth without hurting her, and he couldn’t protect her without lying to her…well…he thought…she would get hurt either way, wouldn’t she?

“I kissed Billy.” his voice was muffled behind his hands, the words forced, pushed out of his mouth with an unexpected punch.

“Huh?”

Steve took a deep breath and removed his hands from his face, still avoiding Nancy’s gaze, wondering if she had noticed his tear-streaked cheeks yet. He felt the weight of the words leave him as he said it for the second time, clear, precise, unable to be misheard. “I kissed Billy Hargrove.”

Nancy didn’t react, at least not in a way that Steve noticed. The only thing he noticed was the way her hand stopped moving on his chest.

“Did you kiss him, or did he kiss you?” Her voice was flat, and guarded, and Steve could tell that behind her monotonous tone there was fear for the answer, and that was something he could relate to. Steve, even in his risky exploration in the bathroom during school hours, still hadn’t reached one of his own. But it was like he was halfway through solving the problem, so close, like all that was left was to simplify.

Funny. If only the situation could be so easily simplified.

Steve didn’t answer her question, and he knew that his silence was an answer enough by the way Nancy moved away from him and pulled the sheets off of the bed to cover herself up, standing up onto her feet and picking her discarded clothes up off of the ground.

Steve, in a pathetic attempt at an apology, reached an arm out towards her only to have it slapped away. “Nancy, I’m so sorry—”

“Save it, Steve.” She kept herself covered while getting dressed, as if to make a point—to tell Steve that he didn’t get to see her naked anymore. “Were you thinking about him while we—” she cut herself off, and Steve was partly grateful that she had, and disgusted with himself at the same time because he was.

And she was waiting for him to deny it. He could tell, like she had cut herself off half expecting Steve to do it for her, and when he hadn’t, well, she had gotten her answer once again.

“Nancy please, just listen, I—”

“No, Steve.” she said, clipping her bra together and pulling on her shirt. “I’m not talking to you about this right now, I need time to process.”

“Nancy, please just talk to me.” Steve was practically begging by that point, crawling all the way to the other side of the bed, hiding himself with just a pillow on his lap, hardly appearing as composed or as decent as Nancy was. Somehow, Steve was the only one visibly upset. Nancy’s anger only showed through with her words.

“I’m leaving, Steve.” her voice was stern, and almost calm, which was what surprised him the most. “I am being more than reasonable right now. I would be well within my rights to dump you.”

Steve held his tongue, biting the inside of his cheek, trying to come up with the words to say knowing the best thing to say was to say nothing at all. It was in his nature to sit there and throw more apologies her way. I’m sorry after I’m sorry after I’m sorry until one finally stuck. It was like throwing darts, simple odds, if he threw enough surely he’d hit a bullseye, which would be great if darts didn’t impale with sharp points. Each apology would just hurt her a little bit more.

He just sat there holding his breath. He watched her walk out the door of his bedroom, listening to the sound of her feet clacking against the wood stairs, left only to hope that what she said would come true, and that maybe he hadn’t ruined everything.

Steve threw himself down onto his bed, back flat, trying to relax a body that just couldn’t.

No amount of optimism could change the fact that Steve Harrington was fucked.

#harringrove #stancy #billy hargrove #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #stranger things #mandi writes tresh

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phantom-sunset · 4 years ago

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Thank yo so much to @screwunsaidemily for putting this gift exchange together.

This one is for @penguin-writes-books and is inspired by the above song

Titled: Polaroid

Rated: T

Ship: Willex

Alex has been distant recently, It wasn’t anything they had done. It was his family. His parents, to be more specific. He had finally come out to them and well...it didn’t go well. They’d stopped speaking to him completely and when he was home, pretended he wasn’t even there. His mother looked through him and his father never stayed in the same room if he was there. Alex could feel it was only a matter of time until they kicked him out completely.

Julie hadn’t joined in the anxiety party Luke and Reggie were throwing for Alex but instead patiently waited. She had an idea, she always knew when one of her boys wasn’t okay. She never pushed though, and instead waited for them to be ready to come to her.

Ray was waiting as well. Both he and Julie, and maybe Carlos too, had an idea of what was going on. Ray had already gotten their second guest room ready for Alex, for when he was ready to open up to them. When he was ready to live his life completely out in the open. Ray had hung a rainbow flag off of the porch, just a little outward sign that Alex was safe and welcome in his home, that all of them were.

Reggie had come to move in with them when he had come over with cuts and bruises littering his body. That time Julie did not wait. She went to Ray and together they went to Reggie’s house, packed his things and brought him back to his new home. That was four years ago, when Reg was only thirteen.

Luke was a different story all together. When he began to get quiet and his energy seemed to diminish, they all noticed. Reggie and Alex had bothered him until he spilled everything. Julie had waited instead. She sat next to him quietly, worked on music to distract him. Held his hand when he cried on her shoulder. Played big spoon to his little when all he wanted was to feel loved and safe.

When Luke had finally let her in, she walked right up to his parents house the next day after school and refused to leave until they sat down and watched the entire video history of Julie and the Phantoms YouTube page. She sat there for hours until they admitted that their son was full of talent and that instead of forcing him into an engineering degree that would absolutely destroy his spirit, they should support his music major.

They had agreed when Julie sat quietly on their couch and simply stared at them expectantly without blinking. She might only be seventeen but she was scary when she needed to be, Rose had made sure of it.

___________________________

Alex really wants to stay home tonight. He’s not really in the mood to see anyone but none of his friends would allow it. He was pretty sure that the moment he came home today, his parents would kick him out. It was getting pretty blatant. If they didn’t do it, he was going to at least.

Julie hadn’t joined in the anxiety surrounding Alex like the boys had. Instead she convinced him that one night out wouldn’t kill him, adding on that if he got too anxious they’d leave straight away.

Julie knew that Alex definitely wasn’t ok but she knew it was a matter of time before he spilled his soul to her. It’s just how they’d always been, since they were kids.

Carrie is having her annual Valentines Day party tonight. Flynn’s cousin is in town touring UCLA for the week. He’s planning on starting in September. He is super cute and extremely Alex’s type.

So Julie is planning a secret set up. Alex has no idea but she’d let Flynn, Reggie, and Luke in on the plan. She was still shocked no one had told him about it but counted it as a win. One fourth of her best friends deserved a distraction and boy was Willie the perfect one.

“Are you guys ready?” Julie said as she walked into the studio that had somehow unofficially become the boys home. Even though Ray had made sure they all had their own space in his house.

Reggie was pulling a bright red shirt over his head, his black ripped jeans and combat boots already on, his leather jacket hanging lovingly over the back of a chair.

Luke was pulling on a white tee with “My Bloody Valentine” printed across it, a butcher knife dripping blood cut through the print. “Cute” she says to him as she takes in the shirt. She isn’t just talking about the shirt and he knows it but he smirks at her and winks. She rolls her eyes and turns to Alex.

He’s wearing a baby pink t-shirt and light colored blue jeans. His black and pink air maxes complete the look.

“No. But I doubt you’ll let me sit this one out.” Alex answers her question.

“You’re right. Let’s go, the Uber's here.” Julie puts her arm through his, pulls him towards Reggie where she loops her other arm and waits for Reggie to thread his arm through Luke’s. They skip down the driveway, Luke’s humming ‘We’re off to see the Wizard’ as they go.

When they pull up to Carrie’s it’s jam packed. Parents dropping their kids off, Uber’s dropping off their riders, and a lone skateboarder, weaving between bodies like he’s made of air. Julie smiles because she’d recognize that long brown hair anywhere. The guy hasn’t cut his hair since elementary school.

As they walk in, there’s staff dressed in red and white handing out brand new polaroid cameras to each guest as they come in. “To save the memories being made here.” He says to them.

“Obnoxious, isn’t it? All that money and we get outdated cameras” Flynn says from Alex’s side. He jumps up, startled at her sudden appearance.

“Fucking hell, Flynn. Stop doing that!” Alex hisses.

“Why? It’s so much more fun when you react like that.” She answers. Julie, Luke and Reggie snicker from behind him.

“Anyway. This is my cousin Willie. Willie This is Luke, Reggie, and Alex. You already know Julie.” She says, pointing them out individually.

“Nice to meet you.” Luke says as he holds his hand out. Reggie echoes him and Julie smiles and goes in for a hug.

Alex hasn’t moved yet. He’s just standing there, eyes wide and cheeks flushed as he takes in Willie. He’s cute as hell and taller than Alex which was saying something. His cheekbones reach for the sky, and a jawline that should be illegal. He’s smiling at Alex, holding out his hand to shake and oh god, this was embarrassing. How long has he been waiting for Alex to move? How long has Alex been staring at him like a deer in headlights?

“The malfunctioning one is Alex. Give him a minute, he’ll be right with you.” Reggie said as he tears open his Poloroid camera. He turns to Luke who has his arm around Julie and is busy whispering her ear and snaps a picture.

“Shut up, Reg.” Alex clears his throat and offers up his hand, finally. He’s willing the blush on his cheeks to retreat, it doesn’t.

“So, I’m thirsty. Let’s go get some drinks?” Flynn says, grabbing Reggie’s hand and pulling him. He grabs on to Luke’s shirt who grabs onto Julie’s arm and their little chain disappears into the crowd at the speed of light.

“So, they’re not nearly as sneaky as they think they are.” Willie says. A wide smile stretching over his face.

God, he’s teeth are so nice. White and straight. He probably never even needed braces. Alex shakes his head to clear his thoughts and realises Willie is speaking to him.

“Huh?” God, he probably sounds like an idiot. Way to make an impression.

“Your friends, my cousin. They’re setting us up.” Alex chokes on his own spit. Were they?

He turns towards the bar where his friends are standing. All four of them are watching him and he narrows his eyes. Reggie salutes him. Luke gives him a bouncy thumbs up. Julie and Flynn are batting their eyes and drawing little hearts in the air in front of them, their lips puckered in exaggerated kisses.

Alex rolls his eyes and turns back to Willie who had followed his line of sight and promptly burst out laughing.

“Wanna head outside? It’s super noisy in here and something tells me they won’t come back until we’ve gotten to know each other properly.” Willie suggests and Alex nods his agreement.

They end up spending an hour together. Alex lets Willie go first and everything he learns makes him like Willie more. He’s about to start college, UCLA is his first choice and he’s already been accepted. He’s going to be moving in with his uncle Robert (Flynn’s dad). The tour was an excuse to come to LA in order to see his family.

He’s from San Francisco, and is majoring in art. He’s sold his work in different galleries since he was fifteen. His mom calls him a prodigy but he just thinks he sees the beauty in things others don’t. He paints, sculpts, and does photography mostly but otherwise dabbles in everything.

Alex tells him about himself. He’s in a band. All four of them have also applied to UCLA for music majors. They’re going on tour over the summer, down the pacific coast. He tells Willie about the time Reggie and Luke convinced him to eat engine hotdogs and they all ended up in the hospital with food poisoning. Willie found that story hysterical.

It’s as Willie searches up the Julie and the Phantoms YouTube page to watch clips of their performances that he notices something and interrupts Alex’s story about how annoying Julie and Luke are in their mutual stupidity when it comes to their feelings for each other.

“Hey, do you mind if I take a picture of you?” Willie asks as he pulls the camera up to his eye.

“Only if I can take one of you.” Alex answers. It came out faster than his brain could process. Braver and flirtier than he intended but he let the question hang.

“Sure, hotdog! As many as you want.” He winks and smiles at Alex and snaps the picture.

The little rectangle comes out of the side of the camera and Willie is shaking it and still smiling at Alex as he snaps his picture. They're both shaking the film to let it develop and laughing at the thought of people only ever having to do this for their pictures.

“God, how did people survive in the 90s?” Willie asks.

“Right? Like they had to carry around separate things for everything. Music, cameras, phones, planners. The bags must have been huge!” Alex answers and they laugh again.

Willie reaches into his pocket and pulls out a sharpie, he grabs the picture of him from Alex’s hand and writes something on the white border. When he hands it back, Alex’s face turns red yet again.

Willie C. - 2.14.2021 🖤

Alex decides to do the same and grabs his own picture from Willie's hand, writing his own down too before handing it back.

Alex M. - 2.14.2021 🖤

They end up staying outside and completely missing Dirty Candi’s performance along with the rest of the party. Neither one is sure exactly how long it's been but Willie’s phone chimes and he looks down at it, startled.

“It’s Flynn. Wow, it’s midnight already? Looks like we gotta go. This was perfect, thanks for hanging out with me all night.” Willie says and Alex smiles at him.

“Yeah, I had a great time.” Alex answers as they both stand up. Willie turns to walk away but only makes it a few steps before he turns back to Alex.

“Can I kiss you?” Willie asks when he’s in front of Alex again. Alex freezes in response. He can’t do anything but nod because Fuck, he’s wanted to kiss him all night.

Willie laughs softly and puts both of his hands on Alex’s face and pulls him forward. It’s soft and sweet. Willie’s lips feel like cashmere and he smells like pine trees and coconut. The scent makes Alex light headed but he refuses to pull away until Willie makes the move to. Unfortunately it’s way too soon when he does.

“Thanks.” Willie turns and starts walking away again, leaving Alex to try and stop his brain leaking out of his ears since it’s now turned to mush.

“Wait! Can I have your number?” Alex shouts to him as he leaves. Willie turns, walking backwards as he shakes his head. The wide smile is still plastered on his face.

“Nah. It’s more fun this way, hotdog.” Willie answers, holding up the picture he’d taken of Alex.

“I hate that name! It’s how I almost died!” Alex shouts to him. Willie’s loud laugh lingers in the air around Alex long after he’s gone.

“Well well well, if it isn’t Alex C. Mercer. The boy who hasn’t been seen all night.” Reggie says as he throws himself down in the lounger next to him.

“Well, as setups go, I’d call this one a success.” Luke says from his other side.

“I definitely saw some flirting there.” Julie says as she sits down between Luke’s legs.

“How would you know? It’s not like either of you knows what flirting is.” Alex smirks at the two of them.

Reggie’s snickers come from behind Alex and makes it difficult to keep a straight face. Luke rolls his eyes and leans his head back, pulling Julie back with him so that her back rests against his chest. Julie punches Alex in the shoulder and sticks her tongue out at him.

_________________________________

It’s a week before classes start at UCLA and Julie, Luke Alex, and Reggie are enjoying being back. In their own homes, in their own beds (Alex’s happens to be at Julie’s house now). They decide to go to the beach and invite Flynn along.

Alex hasn’t mentioned Willie since valentines day and no ones brought it up. After all, he’s six hours away and had never given Alex his phone number. Sure, Alex had gone full FBI and found his Instagram page but it was private and Alex had never worked up the nerve to request him.

He thinks about him a lot though. Looks at the picture in his wallet more than he’d ever admit. He doesn’t have to come out and say it to anyone though because they’ve all caught him with it. Julie just smiled sweetly and left it alone. Unfortunately, Luke and Reggie are assholes so they bring it up all the time.

So here they are, spread out on the beach and Alex is getting thirsty. They’ve been here for a few hours and whatever supplies they’ve brought have been depleted.

“Hey, I’m gonna go grab some drinks. If you freeloaders want anything you’re going to have to come with.” Alex says as he stands up and slips his flip flops on.

“Rude.” Reggie says and stands up to go with him. Julie goes too and the three of them make it to the cement. Luke stays behind with Flynn to discuss album art concepts.

They stop to make sure someone actually had the money and when Reggie pulls out a soggy twenty that he had accidentally went swimming with, Julie laughs at him. Alex pulls out his own thankfully dry wallet.

“Watch out!” The voice comes from behind Alex but he doesn’t have time to move out of the way before something solid and strong slams into his back sending him sprawling face first into the sand.

“What the fuck?!” He yells as he spits sand out of his mouth and brushes it off of his body where it stuck painfully.

“Oh man, You dinged my board.” The voice comes from behind him again and he turns, fury burning in his veins.

“I dinged your board? You almost killed me!” Alex yells back. He doesn’t look up, examining his skinned knee.

“Yeah, I did pancake you, huh?” he’s laughing now and Alex stands up to give this guy a piece of his mind but his thoughts are cut off abruptly.

He can see Julie and Reggie out of the corner of his eye, smiling widely and snickering to each other. God, he hates them so much.

“Hotdog! Wow, long time.” He says. Alex’s brain has shut off though because wow he looks better than he did on valentines day.

His skin is sunkissed, his hair lightened by the sun, and he’s wearing a crop top that shows off his toned stomach. Alex traces the V as it disappears under his waistband. Someone pinches his elbow and he snaps out of it. Thank you, Julie.

“Willie, hi! How have you been?” When had his voice gotten so squeaky?

“I’ve been good! Starting school next week. Just finished moving in yesterday. How about you?” He answers. Julie and Reggie have walked away to the beach bar.

“Just got back from touring last night. Now we’re here. Relaxing before school starts.” Alex waves his hand out, encompassing the beach and the general area where Flynn and Luke are bent over her phone.

“You know, I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that party. Kind of the best kiss I’ve had.” Willie chuckles and bumps his shoulder against Alex’s.

“Tell me about it.” Alex pulls his wallet out as he speaks. Pulling out the picture from his wallet and showing it to Willie.

“No way!” That smile that Alex hasn’t stopped staring at is back as he pulls out his own wallet and shows Alex the picture. The ink is faded, as if he’d been running his fingers over the signed name. The corners are crinkled and Alex beams because his looks just as well loved.

“Wanna join us?” Alex asks and Willie nods and smiles in response.

“Hell yeah!” He takes off his helmet and picks up his skateboard, following Alex back to their spot. The thirst that had been drying his throat moments before is completely forgotten when Willie laces his fingers with Alex’s.

#Julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfic #willex #Alex mercer #jatp willie #Julie molina #luke patterson #reggie peters #jatp flynn

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ellohcee · 4 years ago

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Ghosting

Jasper's gotten pretty used to being a ghost and things are actually going really well. He's dead, so there's not much else that can go wrong, right? ...Right?

AO3 if that suits your eyeballs better | Inspired by this lovely illustration here | Wordcount: 10,049

warnings: non graphic death mention (but not permanent because ghosts yknow? yeah)

- - - -

Out in the quiet countryside sat an old, decaying house. It stood imposing amidst the shady woods surrounding the grounds and the green fields beyond that. A large, three story beast cradled in isolation and feeling cut off from the rest of the world, the trees blocking sight of the nearby highway unless you stood directly on the long dirt road leading out. From there it was still probably a fifteen minute drive of open field until you could reach civilization, Jasper’s hometown to be precise.

The air tended to be quite still this time of day except for an occasional short lived breeze, the absolute quiet broken only by the rustle of leaves, the lonely chirping of a cricket, the occasional creak and moan of the old manor standing like a looming shadow in the fading light. The sun was dipped close to the horizon, ready to set away for the night and painting the sky with a wash of golds and pinks in its path.

Somewhere a frog started croaking softly. There was a small creek running through the woods that tended to bring around wildlife of a few sorts. Deer liked to graze and birds liked to forage in the overgrown lawns. Mice and rats had taken up residence in the debris of the old house, bringing feral cats, foxes, owls, and other small predators to make an opportune meal.

Nature hadn’t entirely taken back the house despite it’s lack of upkeep and crumbling state, but it had carved out a way for the wildlife to make use of it.

And now as he watched these happenings like usual, the day was coming to a close just as it did every other, but for Jasper it was just starting.

He hummed softly under his breath, eager, that familiar spark of excitement flickering in his chest like he was alive again. He watched the sun steadily descend beyond the skyline, the trees around them filtering golden rays of light into the garden, onto his love. It lit up David’s face in such a beautiful warmth he often had trouble believing the statue wasn’t really flesh and blood when the sun was setting.

At least while he waited he had a most wonderful view, thinking as always that whoever sculpted David did such an amazing job. Maybe he’d been modeled after someone the artist loved very dearly, to put such care and detail into his face and his hair and his hands… hell, everything about him was perfect. There had to have been love poured into the process, because there was no way a statue made simply to go in anyone’s garden could look so radiant.

Jasper had been dead for fifteen years, but David had been around for a lot longer, a marble statue poised in the middle of the old fountain in a long forgotten garden of a long forgotten house. He woke as the sun went down every night without fail, and Jasper waited the same way each evening, excited, ready to see his best friend and boyfriend after being alone all day. As the minutes wore on his anticipation grew, building.

Memories of life were sketchy for the ghost, sometimes lost in a heavy fog and sometimes as clear as the failing VHS tapes he’d kept from childhood, still able to be deciphered but a little flickering and fuzzy. When he wasn’t in the fog, he could recall how he died. He could remember going into that house, stupidly, hoping to find… what? It had been looted and gone through many times, so there was nothing of value left, he’d just wanted some excitement. To see something interesting, the passage of time on a once beloved, extravagant house.

Stupid.

It was right out of the old horror movies he loved, and it had just been too hard to resist. All the stories floating around town he’d eaten up as a child, being so interested in the paranormal. Not that he’d expected to find anything of that nature, no one ever had in that old place, but it just sounded so fun and creepy to go wandering an abandoned three story mansion. He’d gone into the house, exploring, turning things over, looking at old books and photos and trying to imagine what life had been like when it was occupied. Wondering why it had been left to the elements.

Stupid.

He’d eventually made his way upstairs to the third story, actually being very careful and minding the integrity of the steps beneath him, he swears, but still the boards at the top were far too gone to trust.

So stupid.

He’d never forget the lurching sensation in his stomach before he’d actually fallen, that sinking feeling as the step creaked far too loudly beneath his feet for just a second, a warning that came too short. Old, weathered wood gave way under his weight, splintering, probably going out all the faster for his last ditch attempt to jump away to the landing.

Down he’d fallen, straight down the center of the winding staircase, three stories, and that’s when things got hazy. Mercifully he’d never been able to recall any details, including if it was fast or slow. It couldn’t have been pretty was all he knew, as the house was littered with piles of debris and rotting wood. Lots of ways to make a three story fall lethal if it wasn’t already. His memory just skipped to waking up the next day, somehow knowing immediately something was wrong, that he was wrong. And upon looking down at his hands, seeing through to the floor beneath them, and stumbling backwards right through a solid wall…

That was that.

Some days he wondered if anyone found his body. He hadn’t checked in a while, he’d stopped going near the house once he met David. David was so much better than that old shitty house and the memories and the phantom pain of death that sometimes rendered him in the fog for days at a time. And that’s how it had been for a while, slipping in and out of that fog, floating around the house without knowing where or why he was going. Your typical lights-on-but-nobody-home wandering spirit, he thought to himself on occasion. At least his humor was in tact on his better days.

But good god then he’d met David. He’d wandered out one day when the airy voices of the house had grown too loud, when the image of rotting ceiling stretching away from him became too much. It had been just before sundown as he’d floated through the garden in curiosity, admiring the way it had taken back the man made structures. He’d been there before, he was sure, but obviously not at the opportune time.

It was probably filled with carefully tended flowers at some point, but now it was all overgrowth. Benches, trellis, the fountain, archways, cobble paths, all covered in moss, ivy, and other native plants. Except… the statue. He’d found it rather odd, how it looked almost entirely left alone compared to everything else. It still had some faint moss creeping along here and there, but nothing like the mass of clinging ivy that entombed everything else.

He’d been staring in wonder at the statue’s beautiful face, hovering closer to get a better look, admiring him and wondering how the sculptor had pocked individual freckles onto his cheeks with such delicate care. He must have been so entranced to not even notice the wash of color slowly spreading up through the pale marble, dim as it was out here in the fading light...

Then the sun flickered out behind the trees, and the statue’s eyes opened.

Being a ghost himself, shit like this shouldn’t have surprised him, but he’d never met anyone in or around the house since death, alive, dead, or in between. And boy this was some kind of in between he’d never expected so it did knock him back. The man previously made of pale stone was now looking alive and human and staring back at him in matching shock as Jasper scrambled away mid air.

“Wait, please,” the statue said softly, his voice warm and disarming, immediately making Jasper’s fear dissolve like drifting smoke. His eyes swept up and down, frowning as he took in everything wrong with Jasper. The way he hovered, the way he could see right through to the garden beyond, the slight wispy mist that hung around him. “You’re...”

“Uh, dead, yeah,” Jasper had replied, coming a little closer. “You’re…?” he trailed off uncertainly, an invitation to be filled in, because David’s case had been a lot less obvious at first glance. Was he himself the statue and he came to life at night? Was he a spirit possessing the statue and animating it? Was this some sort of illusion that came with a haunted house? He’d never met any other ghosts, was Jasper alone enough to consider the manor haunted when he didn’t even go in there most days?

But David himself wasn’t sure, he just knew that he ‘woke up’ every night with sundown, essentially asleep and unaware during the day, and it had been this way for longer than he could remember or even guess at. He must have been alone here for quite some time, that was for sure, and hazy as Jasper’s memory was for being dead a few years at that point, David’s must have been a sea of uncertainty.

But they’d got to talking after the initial shock, eager to finally have someone to interact with, getting to know each other, talking about their lives, becoming fast friends. He’d soon stopped wondering so much about what David was, because whatever he was, he must have been alive at some point. There was no way a soul so bright, so kind, so loving and warm could have been manufactured from nothing. He wasn’t just a statue that grew a personality when he woke up at night, he was far too complex and nuanced and beautiful. Sure he could be naïve, dense even, but he was the sweetest damn person Jasper could ever remember meeting.

And after a certain point, finding himself one day staring longingly at David with what must have been the silliest look and these types of thoughts waxing poetic, he’d realized his heart had run off without him.

Every day from then of he’d fallen deeper in love with the statue in the garden. And good grief, for amazing as David was, he’d somehow found Jasper worth loving right back. One otherwise inconsequential day they were doing their usual routine. The moon was high, bright and full and illuminating them both in a liquid silver. He remembered thinking how beautiful David looked. He was so suited to warmth and daylight and the sun, but god the moon sure didn’t hold back on him either. He’d gone quiet listening to David speak, not realizing he was staring openly and hopelessly love struck, lost in a haze, until David called his name.

“I love you,” Jasper had blurted without thinking, startled out of his haze on the exact thought that had been going through his head. David had frozen in surprise and they’d stared wide eyed at each other for a long few moments after the slip. Jasper’s long dead heart, or maybe a memory of it, pounded hard in mortification because oh fuck what if he’d just screwed up big time with his best and only friend, the love of his life and afterlife, his anchor in the fog of days that ran together-

“I love you too,” David had suddenly whispered, his eyes bright and glossy and more alive than ever and Jasper felt like he’d died all over again, but this time he’d gone straight to heaven. And it had remained like that from then on, better in fact.

Their nights spent together were always enjoyable, talking and telling stories and David getting confused by his slang. David himself spoke kind of prim and proper, simple but eloquent and precise with his words, always polite and friendly, never snobby. However old he was, he seemed to be at least several decades back in time. That left him understandably caught up on some of Jasper’s words and expressions, at which point he always stopped and explained to David what they meant, watching the understanding as he nodded, but still tinged with confusion because it sounded so odd to him

Be it a single word, a phrase, a concept, even things that were way beyond him like movies and video games and VHS tapes. He always wanted to know, and Jasper always took the time to explain, even if he wasn’t always the best at making it understandable. Sometimes Jasper thought he made things worse trying to explain tech to David, but it was still something to talk about, and a fun challenge to try and find the right words.

But it got easier and easier for them to converse all the time, and they had fun and never ran out of things to talk about. Sometimes they just wanted to sit together, silent but comfortable and just soaking up each other’s company. David couldn’t leave the garden for whatever reason, some shitty stipulation of whatever curse he was under, Jasper figured. Whenever he tried to go any further than about twenty feet from the fountain, his vision started going dark, his movements slowing as if the action was turning him back to stone on the spot. So they always just sat together in the garden.

Not that it made much difference where they were, Jasper being dead and David destined to turn back to stone upon daylight, but it would’ve been nice to at least walk around the woods or something. It would’ve been especially nice just to know that David wasn’t stuck on some invisible leash unable to follow Jasper beyond his garden home. Regardless, as long as they could be together it was no harm no foul to the statue. He was never too pressed about it anyway.

And now, years after Jasper dying in that stupid house and several more years after they’d met and formed the resident paranormal-odd-couple, things ran in much the same way as ever. And this found Jasper waiting like usual, antsy, giddy, ready to shoot the shit with his favorite person in the world in life or death.

He hovered closer to David’s pedestal in the middle of the old fountain, eager to see those beautiful eyes open and that perfect smile just for him. The sun was nearly gone, it would be soon, but not soon enough for Jasper. “Are you awake yet babe?” he whined softly, cradling the statue’s face with one hand. “I wanna see you,” he added, petulant.

Silence remained between them for a few more minutes as the last touch of light slowly faded off of David’s face, leaving the garden bathed more and more in the growing shadows of dusk by the moment. Jasper sucked in a gentle breath as color started bleeding into the pallid stone, life itself slowly flooding through David’s body and letting him know it was time, any second-

And then those eyes opened, and there was that beautiful smile that made him forget about being dead for the night or just plain not care. “Jasper,” David greeted softly, his voice warm like honey and just as sweet. “Good evening my darling.”

“Davey,” Jasper said in delight, hovering closer and hugging the man as David reached for him in turn, kissing him squarely on the lips and earning a pleased hum.

Jasper could remember a time where he’d thought nicknames like darling or sweetheart were so corny and frumpy. He thought he’d be caught dead being called something like that by his partner should he find one, and funny enough that ended up being the case. But he liked it. They sounded so wonderful coming from David, and maybe that was all the difference he needed, actually hearing those things from the voice of the one he loved. Instead of making fun of the love struck goobers on those cheesy romance flicks which he had definitely not indulged in as the occasional guilty pleasure.

Now he was the love struck goober. Such is life… death… whatever.

“How are you today?” Jasper hummed, planting another soft kiss on David’s lips after they’d spent a good minute or two hugging each other close.

“Seeing you first thing as I wake up? How could I be anything less than wonderful,” David replied with a sweet smile. “And you?”

“Much better now, it’s so boring all day without you,” Jasper pouted sadly, making David laugh at his childish expression. “I’d love to sleep during the day, just like, turn to fog or whatever the other dead dudes are doing, but I am just here waiting for you to wake up like a sad little puppy,” he lamented. He could kind of drift off and let his mind and focus wander, but that was the best he could manage. At least besides falling into the soul sucking fog, but he’d much rather be awake and bored and pining for David all day.

“You know I wish I could keep you company in the daytime,” David soothed, placing his hand on Jasper’s cheek, smiling at him. “But at least we have the night, always, just you and me,” he said gently, leaning in for another kiss, long and tender and filled with so much love Jasper swore he felt alive for a few moments. The warmth that kindled in his chest whenever David touched him grew and swelled like a tidal wave, making him feel ridiculously, stupidly happy and he never wanted to let go.

Who knew you could be so fucking happy and drowning in love in death. That you could go years and years in the same routine with one person and be just as hopelessly, giddy in love same as the day you first realized they loved you back? He figured it was possible, obviously, if you found the right person. And boy had he found that person, and sure it was the most absolutely unexpected time and circumstances, but he wouldn’t trade David for anything or anyone.

When they parted, eyes fluttering open to stare at each other in a pleasant haze, Jasper sighed heavily, a goofy smile stretching his lips. “I love you,” he said quietly.

“I love you too, so, so much,” David replied tenderly, his hand still on Jasper’s face, where the pad of his thumb swept so softly across his cheekbone, his smile warm and inviting and filling Jasper’s whole world to the brim.

“Now,” David sighed, breaking Jasper from his inner lovesick poet that emerged in full force conveniently around this time. “Tell me about your day, not just ‘boring,’ tell me what you did,” he invited warmly, always wanting to hear the details even though it was always more or less the same. But he never got tired of hearing it, never failed to ask, and never failed to make Jasper the happiest man in death. He couldn’t check with all the other ghosts but he was damn sure he was the happiest one because no other ghost -or living person- had David.

And that made him the clear winner. Not that he was smug about it. Of course not.

“Well, I floated down the path a bit towards the main road, back around the house, through the woods a bit… I found a flock of birds and tried to see how close I could get,” Jasper grinned. He’d long since discovered animals could see him, and it had become a game, his only daylight pastime of any amusement really, to see how close he could get. Sad, but he made due. He would gladly chuck rocks at the house if he could physically interact with anything other than David, but much as he tried, he could not. His career as a poltergeist was not going well.

“And how did you fare today?” David indulged kindly, amused by his game.

“Pretty close!” Jasper insisted. “Like I coulda reached out and touched the closest one, but some stool pigeon piped up and they took off,” he tsked. “Buncha bird brains,” he added slyly, grinning.

David choked back a laugh, his eyes crinkling adorably at the corners in the way Jasper loved so much. “Oh stop, you’re terrible,” he chastised, his words losing all bite with the smile on his face.

“Terribly handsome,” Jasper shot back, his smile growing in smug delight when David laughed again. “Look babe, this builds up in me all day, cookin’ away while I wait for you,” he insisted. “If I had someone to haunt I’d gladly bring them my material during the day and terrorize them, but it all comes to you. All this bullshit needs an outlet, and you’re the audience, you know this.”

“I know it very well, and much as I shouldn’t, I do love it,” David replied happily, delight still stretching his smile wide.

“Then we’re in agreement,” Jasper said matter-of-factly, leaning in to steal a kiss, muffling David’s next giggle. He was still caught up in the joy of David waking up for the night, joy for the fact that David thought his shitty jokes were funny. Joy that Jasper could always bring a laugh and a smile to his boyfriend’s face, because god damn it was like the best drug.

When they parted again he sighed in content, resting his forehead gently against David’s. “Thank you for always laughing at my jokes. You shouldn’t indulge me so much but I love that you do.”

“I don’t indulge you, I enjoy your jokes,” David rebuked firmly, but still smiling.

“Even when you don’t get ‘em?” Jasper teased.

“Even then, because the happy look your face while waiting for me to get it or not makes me happy, that’s the best part.”

Jasper paused, unable to come up with a witty response because sometimes David just knocked him so far sideways he had to take a moment to collect himself. Finally, he gave up on witty and just buried his face in the crook of David’s shoulder. “Holy schnikes dude, stop, you’ve turned me into such a giant sap,” he whined softly.

You absolute giant love struck goober, he chastised himself.

David chuckled, the wonderful sound making the embarrassment worth it, patting Jasper’s back in comfort as he let the ghost cling to him. “I’m sorry, I do believe I was born in an age of shamelessly poetic love, I can’t help it,” he smiled, resting his cheek against Jasper’s hair and sighing in content.

Embarrassed as he sometimes got, even still, Jasper would happily take an eternity of it to be ridiculously sappy with his Davey.

- - - -

That was how things continued to go for some time. Until one day, otherwise uneventful like all the rest, Jasper found his routine broken. And despite how much he often wished for something interesting to happen during the day to save a little sanity, this was not what he was looking for.

He watched a truck drive onto the property after hearing the engine approach from beyond the trees, hovering near David protectively as it parked and two men got out. They stood in the large roundabout driveway, talking, pointing at the house and across the grounds. They were in suits, something that made Jasper anxious, holding clipboards and going through paperwork, which made him double anxious.

These were not kids or ghost hunters here to poke around for fun.

He worried his lip for a few moments before placing a hand on David’s shoulder, even though he couldn’t feel or hear during the day. “I’ll be right back Davey,” he said softly, before hurrying over to the men to better hear what they were saying. Part of him knew, but…

“-and the permit will be in next week, then we can start demo and removal.”

Jasper didn’t have any practice haunting people since no one ever came around to the house, so all he could think to do was jump up in front of the men abruptly, yelling in their faces. But they were without care to his efforts, going on with their conversation while he hovered uselessly.

“We’ll need all the heavy duty, hm?”

Jasper’s face pulled into a pinched frown, abruptly waving his hand through the closer stranger’s clipboard in an attempt to knock the thing from his hands, but it remained stubbornly in place.

“Yes, a crane, a couple bulldozers, excavator, and several dump trucks. The whole crew, and we’ll get the house torn down.”

An icy feeling flooded Jasper’s veins (why could he still feel shit like this? He was dead!) and he turned to dart back over to David.

Next week. Next week these suits were going to come and rip down that old piece of shit mansion. Which was fine, he hated that fucking house, but… they wouldn’t stop there, he feared. They wouldn’t go to the bother of ripping down a decrepit old house without clearing the overgrown, decayed grounds, including the garden…

The anxiety swirled into an absolute storm within his chest in the short time it took to get back to David, hovering next to him in dread as he watched the men talk. They stayed for about twenty minutes, walking all around the manor in a circle, looking in the doors and windows, making notes, discussing, pointing.

Finally, as they were walking back towards the truck, they stopped and looked towards the garden, pointing practically right at him. Jasper sucked in a soft, anxious breath and wrapped his arms around David from behind, watching the men. He didn’t know what he could possibly do if they came over here and if they happened to threaten the statue, but he wouldn’t leave David. Maybe he could learn to pull some poltergeist shit before they came back to tear down the house if he practiced hard enough.

He waited and watched them like a hawk as they talked a little more, before finally getting back in the truck and driving away. Jasper slowly relaxed, but only a little, remaining wrapped around David as his mind whirled and his stomach churned.

As desperately as he wanted to talk to David and share this important information, he was stuck with his own thoughts until sundown, which was at least a few hours off yet. He swallowed thickly, moving his arms around David’s middle and resting his chin on the statue’s shoulder, staring unseeing at the house as he sunk into that familiar fog for the rest of the day. Except, it wasn’t the usual of just being lost to the living world, dazed and placid and without thought.

This time, it was filled with dread and fear, not for himself, but for David.

- - - -

When David woke up that evening, it took him a moment to clue into the embrace he’d been wrapped in. Jasper was still holding him from behind, arms around his middle and forehead resting on his shoulder, absolutely still and silent.

“Jasper?” David asked with a growing frown, turning his head to look at the ghost. When he received no answer, his worry increased, setting a hand over Jasper’s tense arms. “Jasper, sweetheart?” he pleaded softly.

Suddenly the ghost sucked in a breath, his head lifting from David’s shoulder as focus swam back to his cloudy eyes. He blinked, turning to look at David with his mouth open just a little. “Davey!” he said in a rush of exhaled breath.

David tried to turn in Jasper’s hold, reaching a hand up to cradle his cheek. “Darling, what’s wrong?” he asked, still frowning. He’d seen Jasper like this only a few times before, on really bad days where he’d fallen too far into that fog he spoke of. Like he’d lost himself, sunken down in some deep dark sea from which he had to swim back up to the surface.

Jasper swallowed, looking anxious. “Davey, there were some guys here today, at the house,” he said, jerking his head towards the looming building, still unwilling to relinquish his almost desperate hug.

David looked concerned, surely thinking of how Jasper died exploring the forgotten halls. “Did they go in?” he asked.

“No no, not like- not kids poking around. Like, business- or- construction guys. They were talking about- about ripping the house down,” Jasper said quietly, trying to keep his voice steady, his eyes worried. “And I think- I think they’re going to tear up the garden too,” he added grimly, seeing the realization dawn on David’s face at the same rate that Jasper’s chest filled with heartbreak on top of the dread.

“They- they’re going to...” David trailed off, sounding a little fearful and obviously trying to keep a cap on it. But it was clear as day in his eyes, David had never been good at hiding his emotions. He felt so strongly and wore his heart on his sleeve, so Jasper was able to see all too clearly and painfully the looming terror in his heart.

Jasper swallowed the lump in his throat, or tried, as it would not seem to budge. “I think they… might try to tear your fountain down,” he said thickly.

David’s face had gone pale, drained of color almost as if he was turning back to stone at this news. Instead, he took a long, shaky breath, eyes focused on Jasper’s shoulder. “Well,” he said shortly, his voice trembling a little as he tried to stay composed. “We- there’s… nothing really we can do about that, should they- should they try to-” he broke off, voice catching.

Jasper buried his face in the crook of David’s neck, holding him tight for both of their comfort, feeling David’s hands trembling just slightly where they rested on his back.

“When are they going to…?” he trailed off weakly.

“I dunno,” Jasper replied, muffled into David’s shoulder. “They just said ‘next week,’ so I don’t- I don’t know...”

“Mmm,” David hummed back, a deceptively calm reaction on the surface, because ‘next week’ was a lot to process. Next week was awful short notice to come to terms that you might be…

His hands clutched a little tighter against Jasper, staring out at the garden he’d called home for so many years. So many years spent alone in an endless existence of waking and sleeping with each night and day, blurring together in a stream. Not as many years (but a thousand times more important) since Jasper had wandered out to the garden at just the right time.

Years where time suddenly regained meaning for them both, the passing of the sun and moon becoming a countdown to see each other, to hold each other, to speak of anything and everything without ever becoming bored despite the lack of new topics. To just be together even if they didn’t feel like talking.

Suddenly there was a very real threat of that all coming to an end. And as much as David was afraid for himself, he was terrified for Jasper. He didn’t want the ghost to go back to being alone, the days passing in a blur without meaning. It had taken a little while into their friendship, but he’d gotten details from Jasper about that state he called ‘the fog.’ It sounded similar to what David had experienced before they’d met, and he badly, desperately did not wish to leave Jasper alone to go back to that…

It would still feel awful but not quite as much if there was someone else here to keep him company, some other ghosts, at least one for him to call a friend. But he would be left entirely alone, and David feared what that would do Jasper. Because if their positions were switched he knew without a doubt he would be an absolute wreck to lose Jasper. He couldn’t even fathom how it would feel, he didn’t want to.

He fought back tears, holding tight to his love as these thoughts swirled around in his head without mercy. There was nothing he could do. Nothing either of them could do. He couldn’t leave the garden, they couldn’t run off together to avoid the promise of what was to happen. David was stuck here and they would both have to simply wait for it to happen.

At least, he tried to reason, if he were to die it was nice to have Jasper by his side until then. A silver lining on a dark, dark cloud. But it wouldn’t help Jasper in the end, he would still be left alone, David would still be gone, so he couldn’t find any real comfort in this thought.

All he felt was fear.

- - - -

The days started passing in a heavy blanket of growing dread. Jasper stayed with David continuously, not daring to go drift through the woods or around the house like he normally did when his boyfriend was asleep. Their conversations became quieter, less casual chatter and more just taking each other in. As if to savor the time together when it was too hard to attempt faking their usual carefree interactions. It was just easier to admit they were scared.

They spent longer and longer saying ‘goodnight’ and ‘I love you’ as the sun started creeping up each morning. The words became much more solemn, heavy, more of a veiled ‘goodbye’ just in case things went wrong come daylight. Suddenly every parting was threatening to be their last, bringing a terrible, sick feeling, wondering ‘will this be it?’ with every passing of the moon. But on the flip side, every nightfall when David woke up, it was with the most intense relief and pained delight to see Jasper’s face. To see him possibly one more time. And they would hold each other silently for a long time, just soaking up the touch and love mixed with heartache.

As much as Jasper had seriously considered his poltergeist idea, he’d quickly abandoned it. He’d gone 15 years without being able to interact with anything around him besides David, it was highly unlikely to change now. He’d much rather stay close to David, both to have more time with him and to keep watch for when those men came back.

And sure enough, they did.

He’d lost track of time but six whole days passed since their last visit, and as soon as Jasper picked up the sound of tires and heavy engines approaching, his stomach dropped out. Now he watched as the trees surrounding the road revealed trucks and heavy construction vehicles. Bright, nauseating yellow harbingers rolling down the long dirt road from the nearby highway. The one white truck a week ago had been bad enough, now this whole squadron of people ready to flip his world upside down made him want to vomit.

“No,” he protested weakly, his hands starting to shake. “Not yet.”

He’d been hoping but not really believing that maybe they’d just… never come back. And things would go back to normal and they could go back to their routine after a false alarm. It was unfounded but he couldn’t help but cling to that little bit of desperation. That maybe it would all be okay.

So much for that.

He watched while holding tight to David as the vehicles rolled to a stop, scattered about the large driveway in front of the house. People started getting out, garbed in hardhats and bright vests, looking ready and willing to start their destruction for the day. Jasper’s stomach churned in such heavy dread, he was pretty sure he would be throwing up if he could.

There was really no amount of time long enough to come to terms that your boyfriend might be killed without a second thought, but six days had been nothing. Suddenly it felt like it had all gone in the blink of an eye, the years they’d spent together about to be ended, and it just wasn’t enough.

Jasper stayed like that for a while, arms wrapped tightly around his David, watching as people walked around and made their plans for the day and got their equipment ready. He spared no thought as someone operated the crane and wrecking ball towards the old house. Somewhere in the back of his mind he suddenly wondered if the house was what tethered him here as a ghost and what would happen once it fell, but he couldn’t spare it much thought.

All he could do was wait, wondering if they would start on the garden today or focus on the house. Would it be better or worse for it to be put off another day? If they were spared for the moment, how would he manage to tell David once he woke up tonight? Would he wake up to see the house half torn down and just know? It almost felt like… a mercy, for him not to know for sure. It was so… vague and nebulous not to know exactly when it would happen. What Jasper was feeling now was probably a mere fraction of what David would go through if he woke up tonight to be told ‘this is your last night.’

Jasper swallowed the lump in his throat, these thoughts quickly breaking him down. He shouldn’t have to think about shit like this. About losing the love of his life, about David dying, about never seeing his smile or hearing his laugh or being told how much David loved him ever again…

Without realizing that he’d started to fall into the fog, drowning in these terrible feelings, Jasper suddenly snapped out of it when a few of the crew broke off and headed his way. Suddenly he was back on high alert, every phantom nerve in his body firing with anxiety and fear. As terrible as this last week had been, telling himself he only had a finite amount of time left with David, it all suddenly became indisputably real.

Jasper watched the construction crew approaching, nerves relentlessly eating at him because they were talking about the fountain and if they were going to bring down the whole house they were surely going to tear up this entire garden without care to salvage anything, even a beautiful, lovely statue that had only a thin layer of moss here and there-

Without preamble, one of them approached with a sledgehammer and he panicked, his heart racing with unprecedented fear. He moved quickly around to hover between David and the approaching man. “No! Stay the fuck away from him I swear to god- do you fucking hear me? Stay away I’m warning you, asshole-!”

And without preamble or waiting until Jasper was properly done with his threat, the man swung the sledge hammer in a smooth but violent arc. It went right through Jasper’s body despite his instinctive move to block it, bringing with it a wave of nausea and dread so strong he almost passed out as he whirled around at the terrible sound behind him-

Just in time to see his David, his beautiful, perfect, loving David crumble into a heap of stone, chunks and dust scattering into the empty fountain and crumbling like his heart and Jasper screamed-

The demolition workers collectively paused, unable to hear him but seemingly feeling his anguish like a cold wind on this bright sunny day for just a moment. A couple of them shivered briefly as a haunting chill ran up their spines, before shaking it off and moving on with business.

And all Jasper could do was collapse onto his knees, shaking like he’d never done before in life or death and he already couldn’t see his lovers remains because the tears were so thick and burning in his eyes and they wouldn’t stop. “Davey,” he forced out in a harsh whisper, barely able to speak through the frantic breaths that he couldn’t control, ripping past his lips and catching his throat painfully. And fuck all- he’d never wondered if ghosts could still experience crying and hyperventilating but apparently yes he very well could- strongly at that.

Maybe in hindsight it was a fair trade, if he could still feel love and joy and elation, logically it would follow that could also feel heartbreak and desolation.

His shaking hands tried to scoop pieces of the destroyed statue, making him sob harder because they passed right through- he’d always been able to touch David, they could touch and feel each other and he’d never passed through David like he did other solid objects so did this mean- his soul was gone? That the worker had absolutely, unarguably murdered his love right before his eyes without knowing either discretion?

His shoulders quaked as he tried to hold himself together, because he’d been right and David had a soul, he was once alive and unique and now he was gone and Jasper’s hands passed through the stone like any other object and he couldn’t remember feeling more alone than in that moment. The pain was so unrelentingly sudden and vicious it threatened to rip him apart, like he could die all over again and he kind of wished he would, because he couldn’t- going back to that lonely routine without David, to have known his light and warmth and love and have that cruelly ripped away-

The worst part was none of them would ever know the passing of such a warm light from this world, of someone so bright and beautiful and kind, no one but Jasper knew or would remember David. It felt like such a grave injustice that he could be torn away so easily and the only person able to mourn him was Jasper.

But in his defense, it sure felt like a world’s worth of mourning...

He hunched in on himself tightly, feeling sick, his ears ringing as he choked on a hard sob, tears running down his face to drip onto the old stone fountain. Everything around him abruptly faded away, the construction workers, the sound of the house being torn down, the loud beeping and rumbling engines of heavy trucks, all fell away to a terrible hazy buzzing. It was as if he was sinking underwater, the depth muffling more and more of the sounds around him as he drifted.

He wanted very much to curl up and lay in the fountain in hopes that he’d somehow become solid and they could put him out of this absolute misery when they destroyed it, let his remains lay with David’s in a pile of stone to be discarded in a landfill somewhere. He didn’t care, he just wanted to be anywhere other than that creeping abyss pulling him down, because it had never been this dark and hopeless before, swallowing him up so ruthlessly like maybe his own soul was fizzing out with David’s and this was what it was like for a ghost to die-

Suddenly a glow appeared beyond the mess of tears that distorted his vision, making Jasper sit upright a little, swiping a hand over his eyes because it was practically shining in his face. He scrambled back a little as a mist floated up from David’s remains, coiling and twisting the air and gathering close, starting to take a shape that was almost human and making Jasper’s heart race.

He watched as features began to form, achingly, painfully familiar features constructed before his eyes as if painted into that delicate mist with the finest brush. That or he was already losing his mind from heartbreak and he was imagining all this but honestly he would take that over being alone.

And then eyes opened with a sharp gasp, looking around frantically before squinting against the sunlight, shielding his eyes because he’d never been awake during the day and goodness it was bright- why was he awake during the day??- then he spotted Jasper, a mix of confusion, fear, and concern turning his face. “Jasper?” He asked shakily, lowering down from where he’d been floating, reaching for him.

Jasper’s breathing came fast and shallow, tears still pouring down his face as he stared in shock at this specter, the spitting image of his love but now- now David was like him-

He choked on a rough sob, pushing himself up to lunge at David and capture in him in a desperate hug, shaking hard with emotion because he could feel David- he still felt warm and solid and he’s here he thought frantically-

“Jasper,” came that familiar, warm whisper, arms wrapping around him and holding him close. “Shhhh, it’s alright sweetheart, it’s okay,” he soothed, rubbing Jasper’s back.

“I t-thought he killed you,” Jasper cried roughly into his shoulder. “I thought you were gone- I thought he killed you-”

“I... think he did,” David whispered, sounding lost and confused. It hadn’t been what he’d meant to say, it surely wouldn’t be a comfort to Jasper at all but he couldn’t help it. He had to process here and now and it seemed it would be out loud. “I feel different than before, I can’t explain it but- I feel it.”

Everything was different, confusing. He’d expected to wake up at night like usual or not at all, not midday with things being torn down all around him, Jasper crying his heart out and mourning David, and himself now distinctly dead much like his love. It was both a relief to be gifted this chance and terribly world shaking to comprehend what was happening.

“But you’re not, you came b-back to me, I- I-” Jasper choked, feeling David hold him tighter as he rattled in the other man’s arms.

“Sshhh, easy, easy,” David soothed again, his heart wrenching to hear Jasper in such distress. “Come here, let’s go somewhere quieter,” he said, looking around at the construction workers moving through the garden without care to their emotional scene, feeling pain upon seeing ivy and arches being ripped down- his own crumbled remains lying strewn in the fountain churning his stomach-

He helped Jasper up, already seeming pretty adept at moving around as a ghost, and they floated away from the center of the garden, away from the house, where overgrown ivy met the nearby woods. The trees and foliage were so dense here that it helped to muffle the sounds of destruction and dim the light of the sun. It helped that they didn’t have to go far for some reprieve, finding a large rock to sit down together.

Jasper looked up as David cradled his face, swiping tears from his cheeks with such care and love it made them fall faster again. “Davey,” he hiccupped weakly, his voice broken and nearly lost under grief, leaning into the touch. “I thought you were gone, I thought I lost you,” he said again, shoulders hitching.

David’s face etched in sorrow to see him in so much pain, and he gave up on wiping the tears away to instead pull Jasper close in another hug. Jasper leaned into him desperately, needy for the reassurance that David was alive- well- as alive as they could get, but still here with him. But even so Jasper was going to see the image of David’s statue crumbling for years and years to come, he knew it would never leave his mind. Suddenly for the first time ever he was thankful he couldn’t sleep, for if he could it would haunt his nightmares without relent. One good thing about being dead, he had to admit.

They held each other tight for a long time as Jasper cried it all out of his system, for as quickly as David had come back the shock and pain of losing him had been immense and soul wrenching. He was still swimming out of that sea of despair and the thoughts of wanting to die right along with his love.

David was perfectly content to just give him all the time he needed, holding tight to assure Jasper he was still here and running a hand up and down his back. Wishing he could take all that heartache from his love, to share that burden with him and ease the pain if only a little.

Even long after Jasper stopped crying and went silent they stayed wrapped up in each other, Jasper leaning heavily against David as the other man supported him easily, protective, comforting, whispering the occasional soothing assurance to him. Reminding Jasper that he was right there with him. That he loved him.

When Jasper finally drew in a long, raspy breath and sat upright, he roughly scrubbed tears from his face. Once his hands were out of the way, David cradled his face and leaned in to give him a tender kiss, not even bothering to ask if he was okay because it was obvious he wouldn’t be okay for a while. He had one foot each in fucking great and fucking terrible and they met in a painfully jagged line.

When David pulled back to look at him sadly, but so full of love, Jasper almost started crying again but managed to keep himself together. David��s hands slid down to take his, and Jasper pulled one of them closer to inspect. “You’re like me now,” he whispered finally, rough and scratchy, his voice fighting past the lump of emotion that still wouldn’t go down.

“I am,” David replied softly, his eyes on their joined hands, a similar shade of misty gray that just barely revealed a hint of past life. His skin color was still there but transparent, muting it into a pallid shade as if a person could be washed and faded in the sun. “I suppose... I don’t know,” he added, uncertain, confused, because now he had more questions than ever before.

“Are you okay?” Jasper asked quietly, sodden eyes flickering up to David. Because sure he’d dealt with a soul crushing despair for those few terrible minutes, but how was David handling this?

“I- I think so,” he replied, tangling their fingers together and squeezing weakly. “I just... I don’t know what I am. More than ever. I still don’t remember how I came to be in that garden, I thought I was just... a statue, I hadn’t ever imagined I was alive enough to become a ghost,” he shrugged weakly.

“You were never just a statue,” Jasper insisted, weak but determined. “I knew from the start you were alive, you have a soul and heart, you’re the most beautiful, amazing person I’ve ever met and there’s no way someone as warm as you could be ‘just a statue.’ I don’t know how you ended up like that but you were alive in your own way,” he said firmly. “You still are. You’re still here with me.”

David’s eyes had gone glassy during Jasper’s muted but passionate words, and he sniffed softly as he looked down. “Now I’m going to cry,” he joked softly, almost inaudible, his voice catching just a little with the truth of the statement. “I suppose I can look on the bright side, I’m no longer condemned to that garden, we can- we can go wherever we want now, I can be with you during the day!” he insisted softly, suddenly grasping his new found freedom. He hadn’t even thought about his previous confinement, he’d just wanted to get Jasper away from the sounds of construction. “I won’t be... asleep, a statue anymore....” he said in wonder.

“All the perks of ghost world now,” Jasper quipped in an attempt at his usual humor to lighten the mood, even though his voice was still thin and shaky. “You can float, we can go haunting together, super romantic date material, that’s kinda rad, yeah?” he offered.

David’s breath caught on a weak laugh, earning an exhausted smile from Jasper at the familiar exchange. He knew David didn’t always get his humor or it wasn’t even particularly funny if he was being honest, but bless his heart he always laughed and Jasper couldn’t get enough.

David smiled, bringing their linked hands up and kissing Jasper’s knuckles for a long moment, sighing softly as those fingers gripped his own. “I hate that you had to suffer such hurt for this to happen, but I have to admit, it’s nicer this way,” he said quietly, smiling at Jasper.

“It is,” Jasper whispered, his heart stirring in happiness for the first time in what seemed like ages to see that smile once more on David’s freckled face. A frown didn’t suit him at all, not that it made him unattractive, but he was just… meant to shine like the sun, and a frown was very much akin to heavy clouds blocking out that warmth and light. Had David smiled at all since Jasper brought the news? He couldn’t recall, he didn’t think either of them had until this point. It felt good to smile again, to see David smile again even if it was still tinged with sadness. “Totes worth it, by the way,” he added, grinning.

David laughed again, leaning forward to pull Jasper into a tight hug. They stayed that way for a long time, wrapped up together, the sounds of the house being torn down lost on the wind for all they cared.

- - - -

Later that evening they found a spot to lay under the stars, the construction crew having called it for the day and leaving them in blessed silence once more. He’d obviously taken for granted the absolute quiet this area usually sat in, as it was now a godsend not to be hearing that heavy machinery and the house being torn down.

Jasper stared up at the sky s he soaked in this reprieve, his mind whirling over multiple things that had been coming to bother him since the fiasco earlier.

Eventually, David rolled on his side in the crook of Jasper’s arm, resting a hand on his chest. “Darling, what’s troubling you?” he asked softly, the unspoken ‘besides the obvious’ left off of his query. There was something else now weighing heavy on Jasper, he could tell.

Jasper took in a soft breath, measured, anxious. “I just- had these terrible thoughts and I’ve been thinking- what if- I… I don’t even want to say it...” he trailed off, frowning. It almost felt as if speaking the thought out loud would help it into existence. One of them, anyway.

“Tell me,” David encouraged gently, leaning a little closer. “Whatever it is I don’t want it resting on your shoulders alone, let me share it with you. Let me help.”

Jasper sniffed softly, his heart squeezing with so many emotions. He’d long gotten used to how sweet and caring David was, never taking that for granted of course, but after nearly losing him today those little things had started to hit him straight in the heart again. Every touch, kiss, sweet assurance and act of love from David made him think how close he came to never feeling those things again.

“Well… the first thing is uh. When. When he broke you,” Jasper said, his voice cracking a little on the word ‘broke.’ “Um, I started to think about if. What if you hadn’t come back like his?” he asked, gesturing vaguely to them both before resting his hand over David’s, still on his chest. Those fingers twined with his own, squeezing gently. “And what if. Like. You were still in there. And the sun sets and what if you woke up like normal but you- you were- Would it hurt? Would you be able to feel-” he cut off, unable to finish the sentence.

David frowned, a similar thought having passed through his mind, among many other possibilities ranging from simply being gone to a lot more terrifying and painful. He squeezed Jasper’s hand again, bringing it over to kiss his knuckles. “Well luckily none of that happened, but it does no good fretting over it and making yourself sick with worry or what could have gone wrong,” he assured, advice for both of them because he’d been fighting that scenario for a while.

“Yeah, guess so,” Jasper sighed.

“But it feels better getting it off your chest?” David asked hopefully.

“I think, yeah.”

“And what of your other worry?” David encouraged.

“Well, this one’s not really what could have been and more… what could happen?” Jasper said nervously, turning his hesitant gaze to David and seeing the beginnings of concern on his face. “Um, I still don’t- I don’t know if anyone ever found my body, in the house,” he said quietly, making David’s eyebrows furrow and Jasper knew he was starting to clue in where this thought was going.

“So I started worrying, what if it’s still there and what if they find me?” Jasper whispered, feeling David’s hand squeeze his a little tighter, that fear setting in for him well. “And if they do… will that like… will I ‘move on’ or whatever?” Jasper wondered, hearing David’s breath hitch. “I don’t… I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave you alone, I want to stay with you,” he insisted, his voice starting to break. “And I’m scared that- if my body- or bones or whatever are still there and what happens if- if-” he broke off, putting his free hand over his mouth to ward away the oncoming burn of tears.

David took a long, slow breath. “I know I’m going to sound really selfish by saying this but… I don’t want you to leave either,” he whispered. “If you were unhappy like this and wanted to move on, I would understand… but we…” he trailed off, swallowing against the lump in his throat.

“Then I’m just as selfish, because when I thought you were gone, I- I fucking wanted to die too,” Jasper whispered brokenly, his voice dissolving as he spoke the words. “It hurt so much and I couldn’t imagine being stuck here alone without you,” he croaked. “I don’t want that for you either- I want to stay-”

“Shhh,” David soothed, pulling Jasper into his arms where he promptly buried his face in David’s shoulder. David let him work through another round of tears. It was quieter this time, less like the breaking dam from earlier and now a residual trickle of hurt. He’d gotten through the bulk of the water works earlier but there was still more to give, because that pain he felt, losing David for those few terrible minutes, would never leave him.

They stayed wrapped up like this for a long time, long after Jasper stopped crying again and remaining in silence for the rest of the night. They could not yet fall back on the routine of talking for hours, it was just too hard to speak pleasantries and jokes like usual. Today had been so much and there was still possible heartbreak on the horizon, so they just lay together quietly. It was reminiscent of the nights waiting for the demolition to start. A lot less dread weighing on them, yes, but still so far away from the usual mood before all of this had started looming over their heads.

In the morning when the sun started to break, peeking over the horizon and filtering through trees to cast a soft glow on the ghosts, David for once stayed with him. He wasn’t taken away or turned to stone by the light of day like in the past, no longer forcibly separated from Jasper. They remained silent and watched each other for a long time until the sun was well into the sky, when they were sure David wouldn’t be taken away. And when that finally did settle in, it certainly helped ease some of the pain of yesterday, leaving them with lighter hearts, even with the question of Jasper’s remains still weighing.

At least for now, they could be together in this peace, in each other’s arms, and that was enough. Whatever happened beyond that, they would face together.

#camp camp #cc david #cc jasper #jaspvid #ellowrites #here it is after nearly two months my eyes are wigging out #from editing on a white screen i got so used to my nice soft teal in openoffice #anyway #uh #go easy on me #i'm going to go away now

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oingos-bitch · 4 years ago

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JJBA Smash or Pass -- Phantom Blood

Jonathan Joestar

Absolutely, without hesitation, undoubtedly, 100%, unconditionally, my answer would remain the same if my life depended on it, yes.

Not.

Look, Jonathan is a sweet, loving man that anyone would be lucky to have, and I sure as hell would let him marry me and I'd have his babies. Unfortunately, that role's already been filled in by Erina. Jonathan could -- and would -- never cheat on his wife. So, no. 0/10 (disqualified?).

Dio Brando

I mean, he's not bad-looking and all, but I can't get past the whole attitude problem. Sure, the "bad-boy" approach works, but there is such a thing as too much. I rate him 5/10: I would've smashed had it not been for him being so damn pompous.

George Joestar

Yes, that's right. George Joestar.

Without the mustache it's easy to see why Mary let him smash the puss-puss, and honestly, who wouldn't? Those freaking wavy blue locks and ridiculous caterpillar eyebrows, just mmmmmmmmm

mmmmm

Yes. 7/10.

Erina Pendleton

Damn. If only she wasn't married. She's a dom, that's for sure -- just look at the way she fricking drank muddy water after Dio kissed her, just look at the way she beat Joseph with an umbrella in Part 2. That's big dick energy right there, and she doesn't even have a pp.

Not to mention her looks, she's so pretty, even after she's just had a stroke; I especially like her eyes. Damn.

Unfortunately, I'm gonna have to pass 😔. Jonathan's really lucky to have her. Actually, they're both really lucky to have each other.

Damn. 0/10 (disqualified?).

Dario Brando

Ew. Words cannot express how much hatred I have for this man. I'm genuinely curious, however, as to how he got Dio's mom to sleep with him. Maybe she just put a bag over his head or something, but I don't think that'd be good enough for anyone in their right mind.

He's got thicc hands though, maybe that's what interested her? But even then, his hands look hella nasty.

Pass, 2/10 (for the thicc hands).

Robert E.O. Speedwagon

HELL YES. He's second to Jonathan; everything about him is just 😤👌 amazing. His hair's so floofy and I bet it's fun to hold onto/pull; his eyes are a beautiful shade of brown; his eyebrows are just so perfectly sculpted for his face; that scar is so fucking sexy; his lips have such a cute pout; he's an honest, good man that cares deeply for his friends, so you know he'll treat you right; and much, much more!

He's also got healing abs. Niiiiiccceee. 10/10 smash.

William A. Zeppeli

Absolutely not. He reminds me too much of my grandpa. Definite pass. 10/10 for the character, 0/10 for the smash.

Tonpetty

Ditto. Love you, Grandpa!

Dire

He is pretty handsome, and he's an honourable guy (my favourite type!), so yeah, why not? Smash. 6/10.

Straizo

Hot, but he's also got a major attitude problem. He's also kinda boring, I imagine him to be the dead fish type in bed. Pass, 5/10.

Wang Chan

Normally I'd say no, but. . . That tongue, man. It just keeps pulling me in. Smash out of curiosity, 3/10.

Tarkus

He's certainly not that bad-looking, and the fact that he could kill me mid-way through the act if I uttered something as simple as "Your hair's dumb" just seals the deal. Smash. 5/10.

Bruford

Hot, honourable, loyal, and has a sexy scar? 👀 Sign me the fuck up. Hell, we could even have a threesome with Tarkus. Smash, 8/10.

#jjba phantom blood #o shit i wrote something #roja's bored #roja thirsts #jonathan joestar #dio brando #Erina Pendleton #tarkus #dire #straizo #jjba smash or pass #bruford jojo #wang chan #robert eo speedwagon #dario brando #i accidentally deleted part of this when writing #oopsies

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viktorfm · 4 years ago

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(MAXENCE DANET-FAUVEL, NONBINARY) - Have you seen VIKTOR SAMUELS? VIKTOR is in HIS/THEIR SENIOR year. The VISUAL ARTS MAJOR is 24 years old & is a CAPRICORN. People say HE/THEY are OBSERVANT, INGENIOUS, RETICENT and DEPENDENT. Rumors say they’re a member of KINCAID. I heard from the gossip blog that THEY'RE HAVING AN AFFAIR WITH THEIR THERAPIST. (JAMES. 21. EST. THEY/THEM.)

dont. look at me. i know. anyways if it wasnt obvs i abandoned cupid (n darrow) in order 2 bring the two ocs tht he ws inspired by n ws a combination of bt. theyre better as different ppl methinks.

DEATH, HEAVY GRIEF, OVERDOSE / DRUG ADDICTION, HOSPITALIZATION, HYPERSEXUALITY, RELIGION MENTIONS TW

aesthetic.

old tvs and their static, worn tapes, horror movie screams, spilled ink, a sculptor’s hands, clay-stained, chicken scratch handwriting, messy notes, messy hair, scoffs and eye-rolls, bruised knuckles, sore throats, funeral homes and a crying preacher, shattered ceramics, knife fights, high ledges, vertically-striped pants, red lights, the moon shrouded in clouds, cigarette butts, graveyards and half-empty wine bottles, sitting there for hours and talking to nothing, about nothing, a god complex, gold rings adorning both hands, barbwire baseball bats, having never played baseball in your life, deep eyebags and broken mirrors, a permanent chip on one’s shoulder, yearning, longing, wishing.

basics.

full name: viktor phillip samuels

nickname(s): icky vicky :/

b.o.d. - january 2nd, 1996

label(s): the black hole, the crepehanger, the impious, the opaque, the tempest, etc.

height: 6′1″

hometown: preaker, vermont

sexuality: pansexual uwu

stats

favorite song: disorder, joy division / it’s getting faster, moving faster / now it’s getting out of hand / on the tenth floor, down the back stairs / it’s a no man’s land / lights are flashing, cars are crashing / getting frequent now / i’ve got the spirit, lose the feeling / let it out somehow

background.

born to mama and papa (preacher) samuels in preaker, vermont - fifteen minutes after his twin sister, tatiana samuels. years later, rosa samuels joined the gang.

was an awkward, quiet kid growing up, he didn’t interact well with others and preferred being left alone to dig up worms and draw on the walls of their childhood home. the only exception was his twin, really.

as he got older he grew out of this, but instead became like … sort of an asshole? maybe to compensate for years of childhood awkwardness. he’s the sort of person who will bite the hand that feeds him & developed into a full time nuisance by middle school, unlike tatiana who was much more subtle about her conniving manners.

always has been a fan of ‘darker’ materials. grim & creepy morbid shit. probably the biggest tim burton fan, ever since he was a kid … not a good look for a preacher’s son, but he never really felt ‘in’ with the rest of his family to begin with. classic black sheep syndrome.

drew disturbing pictures as a kid that probably prompted one or two or five phone calls home to assure everything was fine.

just really had a knack for art at a young age, from drawing to painting to playing with clay. it’s always been his thing and probably is the only thing he’s good at.

being twins with tatiana was hard. they were near opposite besides both being quite mean-spirited. tatiana handled being in public better, left a better image behind - but viktor had talent, more than she did. they loved each other deeply - y’know, those unbreakable twin bonds as cliche as it sounds - but found each other as competition for their parents’ attention. a rivalry for affection.

in high school is when viktor really started to act out. it started extreme, like losing his virginity in their church and vandalism around the neighborhoods. faked being possessed in the middle of sunday service & almost had an exorcism performed on him.

his only redeemable trait was like … just his sheer talent in the arts. was in a 3d art ap course and specialized in sculptures. he could pretty much create anything he wanted with enough dedication.

because he was the problem child, the one who deserved to be disciplined for all his antics, tatiana could sneak away and get away with whatever she wanted much easier. on the bright-side, for her, i guess.

not a very motivated person - wasn’t planning on going to college, much less going to yates but his parents literally wrote & sent his college application for him because they weren’t going to house a deadbeat but had too much heart to kick him out onto the streets. cool!

he’s actually pretty smart but he just doesn’t apply himself. has a minor in english because he didn’t care for an extra course-load, but he’s good at writing & analyzing literature. is going to use it to write and illustrate his own series of children books with a style similar to tim burton’s. not for the kids, but because he likes to leave a trail of terror in whatever he does.

has been experimenting with himself since high school but college is where he really had started to crack down on himself. was out as pansexual & nonbinary by his sophomore year of college just … not to his parents, who don’t really need to know.

if you asked him if he believed in twins having a psychic connection with each other - he’d tell you he wouldn’t know. it felt believable at times, but sometimes he had no idea what was going on inside of tatiana’as head. on the other hand - viktor had always felt oddly transparent to her, like she knew all of his moves before he did. the only person who could predict him accurately.

( tw death, grief, overdose / hospitalization beyond this point )

when tatiana disappeared, viktor knew something was up. it was a twist in his gut, pure instinct that something wasn’t right. and it wasn’t right - and when she was proclaimed missing, they couldn’t find her.

and when tatiana died - viktor knew. it felt wrong, something cut so severely in him he could pinpoint her death to the second. he didn’t know how, or why, but he knew it. knew it before anybody else had.

afterwards he went on a sort of bender. he’d begun to struggle with a mild drug addiction late senior year of high school / early college, but he was managing it up until this point.

his mental health had also sunk to an all-time low, when it’d never been great to begin with. (manic & depressive episodes. once fixated on a sculpting project for six months and then knocked it off the table and destroyed it as soon as he finished it for no apparent reason.)

tatiana’s body wasn’t found immediately, and when it was … viktor went off the rails. ended up overdosing & being hospitalized. spent six months in & out of psychiatric care after that.

came back to yates to finish his senior year because … for the reasons above, he hadn’t been able to complete it. just wants to get his credits and get out of here.

is still dealing with a lot of trauma & grief - causes him to spiral and be unpredictable in regards of his mental health. he stopped taking his medication, so. :/ some days are alright, other days are pretty bad.

personality & facts.

the human embodiment of a gremlin that was fed after midnight. a goblin, if you will. one of those cats with a narrow head and really big ears … that’s them!

a big horror & halloween enthusiast. loves the old campy horror movies & probably has an abundance of masks from different movies. dresses like a grimy millennial beetlejuice more than they should because they just … love those black & white vertical-striped pants.

can appreciate the ~urban legends~ at yates and likes to feed into the fear that surrounds them. is probably the cause of a few ‘anomalies’ and ‘paranormal sightings’ because they’re just … a jerk.

fashion alternates between e-boy (they would be tiktok famous if they were 17 & didn’t think that a majorly minor based app was weird.), millennial beetlejuice, and goth in a crop top & sweatpants. big fan of crop tops and a big fan of sweatpants.

they can be really fucking mean? petty, aggressive, a major instigator. will literally spit in your face for little to no reason, you could just look at them the wrong way. the kind of person who will stick their gum into someone else’s hair. other than that? they’re like … sort of okay. they’re not always mean, just a dick about 90% of the time lmao

like okay yeah they’ll call someone a stinky bitch for no reason except they feel like it and believes it. it’s fine, they’re fine, we’re fine.

despite the fact that they’re probably getting into a fight whenever, considers themself to be a lover and not a fighter but that’a primarily because they fuck a lot. uses it as a coping mechanism, like they’re this big fancy carnival show that’s like ‘come one, come all! fuck the dead girl’s twin brother!’ and it’s … a lot. might have a problem with hypsersexuality but they’re not fully aware of it.

the preacher’s whore son, basically :)

pansexual & nonbinary, switches between he & they pronouns often and without a pattern, but they have such a fragile grip on their identity that you could call them ‘dog-faced bitch’ and they’d turn around like. sup.

vastly impulsive … like i said, they destroy their own creations for the fun of it. spends all their money on useless shit, will cheat on someone because they feel like it & likes the thrill, screams into the night sky frequently like a cat in heat.

will also spend months creating useless shit for no reason too. spent six of them sculpting a hollowed out tree the size of them & then took a sledgehammer to it.

they’re very super dramatic. would play the organ at church when nobody was looking after them and service was about to start. would just churn out these super haunting, creepy melodies like they were phantom of the opera. would do the same exact thing at home on their keyboard with the pipe organ setting whenever they got grounded until their parents took it away hbdsjfngkh

will absolutely not talk about their ‘time away’ because it’s not anyone’s business, not even their own younger sister. still refuses to talk about tatiana’s death, or their mental health, or their addiction (fallen back into it but it hasn’t gotten severe … yet :/), or anything involving their own emotions.

will just change the topic abruptly, no warning. asks about the jonas brothers instead and they fucking hate the jonas brothers.

that being said they’re absolutely not over tatiana’s death & it’s to the point of obsession over it. like there’s some kind of secret that needs to be uncovered, even though there just. isn’t. tatiana was their rock and they were pretty much dependent on her. kept them grounded. could control them when nobody else could, got into their head easier than others. it’s sort of like rosa lost two siblings that day because viktor hasn’t been the same since.

emotionally unavailable while also crying twice a day. cries during their brawls but still wins. is stony-faced when they tell you they cheated on you with your much hotter best friend.

will tell you straight up what they want from you, no bullshit & no beating around the bush. just blunt. if they want to fuck, nothing else, then that’s it. if they feel deviation or developing feelings then they’ll ghost in less than a second. is awful like that but feels no shame.

but also emotional as shit and it’s confusing. will cry on a whim and then flip you off if you try to console them or ask them what’s up. will bite you.

they go to therapy but they just fuck around and wastes their therapists’ time … also is fucking their therapist, but that’s neither here nor there. so they’re not really getting the help they need.

likes to be intimidating but not … with their body or anything because they’re a twig but uses their love & knowledge of horror and creepy shit to their advantage. has an abundance of fake blood. has channeled the energy of jack nicholson and used it on tatiana’s boyfriends before (also is a big fan of sfx makeup & has dabbled in it)

probably chases kids around with a chainsaw without the chain on halloween every year.

generally never doing good, both mental health wise & morally. would probably steal candy from a baby for funsies.

i don’t know if there’s a good to them somewhere deep down, but they don’t see any issues with themself either. nothing really breaks through to them anymore because the only person who ever made them stop and think about their actions was tatiana, and well, y’know. :/

an introverted reclusive type who doesn’t like most people or going out, but does so anyway if it means a quick high & a cheap thrill.

pretty observant and likes to analyze people even though they’re often like … partially wrong. judgmental because they like to make people feel bad, not because they’re a righteous mighty person. because they’re not. so like, a hypocrite!

wanted connections.

religious trauma? oh worm ;; three cheers fr <3 guilt <3 anyways uh. just people tht viktor hs known thru the church in some way even tho hes a fkn. freak now. maybe even family friends.

the horror of our love :/ ;; hmm. any romance tht cld b toxic i think this cld fit. just rly a bad fit. viktor doesnt rly know hw to love so nothing rly lasts bt. maybe they try n try n nothing works bt they keep trying. cld also just be anything unrequited.

little fkn gremlins ;; theyre all evil n mean. bt theyre all friends. <3

you are nothing ;; uuh. enemy plots. spicy enemies. rly bad enemies. rivals. they r brutal towards each other bcos nothing viktor does is ever soft.

fuck u dont pity me ;; uh. people who try to get close to viktor n he just. bites at them. he’s like no. bc he assumes ppl who r kind in response 2 his vileness r. theres smth wrong w them. n it might hv to do with pity. n he hates pity.

ugh. locals x ;; ppl who also grew up around preaker, vermont. the samuels r <3 well known folks n the uh. hm. the murder is an ongoing case. so they cld know abt it <3

dont tell anybody x ;; this is for soft plots. i dont know much about soft plots but.

maybe i am part of the problem ;; the problem is chlamydiagate. this is a hook-ups connection. fwbs n one night stands. ppl viktor hs brutally ghosted. he doesnt acknowledge their existence outside of these events, perhaps.

dont u just wna go apeshit ;; this is where viktor becomes a bad influence.

bt uh. anything. pelase

#yatesintro #death tw #grief tw #murder tw #addiction tw #drug abuse tw #hospitalization tw #overdose tw #hypersexuality mention #religion mention #zooweemama

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audreycritter · 5 years ago

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day five: gunpoint bruce wayne & alfred pennyworth general canonverse tw: guns

***

“Not another step, sir, if you please.”

Alfred held the shotgun in his hands, finger resting alongside the trigger. He could brace the butt against his shoulder and sight along the barrel in a second, but he wasn’t prepared to aim unless the warning was disregarded. The broad-shouldered silhouette at the end of the dark hall turned, hands slightly raised.

He took a step to the side and Alfred raised the gun.

The shotgun was bulkier than any of the handguns Alfred currently owned, but it was also showier. It had chased off more than one would-be intruder by mere presence, which was the point. Alfred wasn’t especially itching to put more men in the ground than he already had in his lifetime-- his trigger-finger was a leaded one, and not an eager one. Most break-in attempts were ones he caught on the outside grounds, a fortunate distance away from young Bruce. The few who had tried, assuming the house was too large for their intrusion to be noticed or that it was perhaps empty, didn’t get far after setting off the perimeter alarm.

This one, somehow, had.

Only the second in the time Bruce had been away globetrotting, and the first had taken in the shotgun and the man behind it and taken off at a dead sprint.

“The silver is locked up and you will not get far with other valuables. Leave now, ahead of me where I can properly see you out, and you may be ahead enough of the police to escape.”

The figure down the hall didn’t move. There was a dark shape hanging at its side, a duffel bag, perhaps. It looked heavy and full-- Alfred was getting too old and soft if he’d missed the intruder already collecting things around the manor.

“I knew I wasn’t going to get a warm welcome after how I left, but it is still my house, I think,” the figure rumbled, a touch of amusement in the deep baritone.

Alfred, arms suddenly weak, lowered the gun.

“Master Bruce?”

“Hey, Al,” Bruce said, and he didn’t sound like Thomas anymore. That, more than a resemblance, startled Alfred. He had once, for a few years, sounded an eerie match for the youthful timbre and cadence Thomas had never really outgrown. Thomas Wayne had always sounded young, and Bruce seemed destined to follow during his later teen years.

Alfred fumbled at his side for the lightswitch and the hall flooded with bright, clear light. Bruce stood at the end with the bag strap digging into his broad shoulders. His hair was a shaggy mess beneath the cap he pulled off and held in one hand, and there was a shadow of beard partially covering the sculpted cheekbones of an adult.

He was a man.

He was a man, and Alfred had missed it, but he still knew him beyond the shadow of a doubt.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred said, swallowing. The rebuke he wanted to give at the creeping and sneaking in the dead of night did not come, it refused to spill out of him in that same scolding habit he’d developed in the last few years of Bruce’s adolescence. For one thing, it struck him as a bit off to scold this adult, and for another, the gun was still in his hands.

He’d leveled a gun at Bruce Wayne.

Reproach funneled inward, while concern overrode other outward emotions.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Alfred said. “I shouldn’t have…I heard the alarm. I’ll go put this dratted thing away, if you’ll give me a moment, and then perhaps a cup of tea would be in order…”

He felt horribly out of place in the manor he’d called home for so many years. He’d raised someone’s child, here, and now he felt like the stranger staring down the hallway at the master of the house, waiting with bated breath for the inevitable panic.

“It’s alright,” Bruce said calmly, as if the gun simply hadn’t registered, or didn’t bother him in the slightest. “You don’t need to rush. I was going to wait until tomorrow, but I wanted to see you.”

The size, the voice, the confidence. They were all things Bruce had grown into or manufactured for himself somehow in his time away, and Alfred felt each detail like a carving knife in his gut. He’d missed it, because it had been kept from him, and that stung in a way he hadn’t known to brace himself to bear. He had expected, foolishly he now saw, that Bruce would return very much the same-- a few more books or skills crammed into his thick skull, but otherwise unchanged. He had been waiting all this time for a sullen teenager to return, and hoping he’d grown out of the sullenness at the least.

Now, he wished Bruce had grown a little less.

The shotgun in his hand felt heavy. He left without a word, startled beyond speech, and tucked it into the case that slid beneath his bed. It was the gun he kept close, and for the first time in years, he didn’t bother to lock the hardshell. Distraction drove him back out of the room and down the hall toward the kitchen, where he hoped Bruce was still lingering and not merely a nighttime phantom wrought by strange dream.

Dread enveloped him. For the first time in months, he let himself wonder quite at what Bruce was doing when he dropped occasional postcards about training, or education. His suspicions were varied and wild and vast, so he had never allowed himself to entertain them much before. Whatever it had been, to strip the instinctive fear of a gun barrel away, it must have been unpleasant and difficult.

The hall was empty, but someone was rummaging in a cupboard in the kitchen.

He went into the lit room to find the duffel bag on the floor by the kitchen table, and Bruce sitting on the marble countertop eating peanut butter with a spoon directly from the jar.

There you are, Alfred thought, the dread draining some, like a canal lock had been raised and diverted the depth of it into smaller channels. This was his Bruce, for all his size and gravelly voice.

“M’hungry,” Bruce said, sticking the spoon back in. “I didn’t eat on the plane.”

A spark of suspicion ignited in Alfred; he knew that wariness, the distrust of food he didn’t see prepared. He chased that away and in this new, fragile balance between worry and relief-- a thing in its infancy compared to what he remembered of the same scales in Bruce’s adolescence-- he found it was not beyond him to scold, after all. He swatted at Bruce’s leg with the kitchen towel, before throwing it over his shoulder to prepare tea.

“Off the counter, sir,” Alfred said. “We have chairs enough.”

It wasn’t until Bruce grinned that Alfred realized his expression had barely changed since he recognized him. The grin was familiar, the ghost of a child’s smirk, and a balm. He hadn’t seen that expression in years, not even in all the months before Bruce had left. Whatever fear or misery he carried in addition to his grief, it seemed Bruce had outgrown that some, too. He moved like a man with purpose, even dropping into a chair, and not a sulking and haunted boy.

Perhaps he had not been the only one suddenly anxious at the reunion and its tone.

Alfred chided himself, while setting the kettle, for being so conflicted at Bruce’s lack of response to the gun. That, too, was a good thing, in theory, however unsettling he found it. He warmed a small pot of soup from the freezer and sat it down at the table before his former charge.

“Well, then,” Alfred said. “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to, hm?”

Bruce stared at the soup for a long moment, and then inclined his head. For the first time since he’d made his presence known in the house, he seemed uncertain. Alfred wondered if it was the food, until Bruce spoke, his voice thick.

“It’s a lot. You’re not going to like it all,” Bruce warned. “Honestly, I thought you were going to be pretty pissed at me for showing up at all.”

Broad shoulders, shadow of a beard, deeper voice, new habits, changed manner-- none of that changed that this was Alfred’s boy, still. He did harbor dread at whatever Bruce would tell him, he was more than a little angry at the long absence, but these were things for later. For now, Bruce was home, and alive.

Alfred bent and folded Bruce into a hug against his chest, pressing a kiss into the hair that so needed a trim.

“When has being mad ever stopped me from caring for you,” Alfred said. Bruce slumped a little into the embrace and sighed, and there it was-- that young sound. Alfred withdrew and took a seat, and Bruce shook his hair out of his eyes and tucked into the soup.

“Do people do that often,” Bruce asked, between mouthfuls. “Break in?”

“More than I’d like but not as often as you probably will let yourself think,” Alfred said. “That’s the kettle. Tea?”

“The usual,” Bruce said.

Alfred, a weight lifted off his shoulders, measured the tea.

#no profreading we die like mne #i'm so behind #but have a thing #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #normal canon #gunpoint #whumptober

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altviktcrr · 5 years ago

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『MAXENCE DANET-FAUVEL ❙ NONBINARY』 ⟿ looks like VIKTOR SAMUELS is here for HIS/THEIR SENIOR year as a VISUAL ARTS student. HE/THEY are 24 years old & known to be OBSERVANT, INGENIOUS, RETICENT & DEPENDENT. They’re living in NOLAND, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ JAMES. 20. EST. SHE/THEY.

hllo ,,, again ,,, this is my last child i SWEAR ,,, at least fr now ,,, hes also the most problematic one ,,, the most dramatic ,,, one of my absolute faves ,,, pleathe love him. as always if u wish to plot please like this so i can msg u !!!

TW DEATH, HEAVY GRIEF, OVERDOSE / DRUG ADDICTION, HOSPITALIZATION, HYPERSEXUALITY, RELIGION MENTIONS, MENTAL ILLNESS

aesthetic.

basic info.

full name: viktor phillip samuels

nickname(s): icky vicky :/

b.o.d. - jan 2nd

label(s): the black hole, the crepehanger, the impious, the opaque, the tempest, etc.

height: 6′1″

hometown: rochester, new york

sexuality: pansexual uwu

stats

inspired by: beetlejuice (beetlejuice), sid (toy story), jack sparrow (pirates of the caribbean), francis wilkerson (malcolm in the middle), azula (avatar: the last airbender), vicky (the fairly oddparents), stu macher / billy loomis (scream), marshall lee (adventure time), bojack horseman (bojack horseman), any it’s always sunny character :/

biography.

born to mama and papa (preacher) samuels in rochester, new york - fifteen minutes after his twin sister, tatiana samuels. years later, rosa samuels joined the gang.

as he got older he grew out of this, but instead became like ... sort of an asshole? maybe to compensate for years of childhood awkwardness. he’s the sort of person who will bite the hand that feeds him & developed into a full time nuisance by middle school, unlike tatiana who was much more subtle about her conniving manners.

always has been a fan of ‘darker’ materials. grim & creepy morbid shit. probably the biggest tim burton fan, ever since he was a kid ... not a good look for a preacher’s son, but he never really felt ‘in’ with the rest of his family to begin with. classic black sheep syndrome.

drew disturbing pictures as a kid that probably prompted one or two or five phone calls home to assure everything was fine.

just really had a knack for art at a young age, from drawing to painting to playing with clay. it’s always been his Thing and probably is the only thing he’s good at.

his only redeemable trait was like ... just his sheer talent in the arts. was in a 3D art AP course and specialized in sculptures. he could pretty much create anything he wanted with enough dedication.

not a very motivated person - wasn’t planning on going to college, much less going to radcliffe but his parents literally wrote & sent his college application for him because they weren’t going to house a deadbeat but had too much heart to kick him out onto the streets. cool!

has been experimenting with himself since high school but college is where he really had started to crack down on himself. was out as pansexual & nonbinary by his sophomore year of college just ... not to his parents, who don’t really need to know.

( TW DEATH, GRIEF, OVERDOSE / HOSPITALIZATION BEYOND THIS POINT )

afterwards he went on a sort of bender. he’d begun to struggle with a mild drug addiction late senior year of high school / early college, but he was managing it up until this point.

tatiana’s body wasn’t found immediately, and when it was ... viktor went off the rails. ended up overdosing & being hospitalized. spent six months in & out of psychiatric care after that.

came back to radcliffe to finish his senior year because ... for the reasons above, he hadn’t been able to complete it. just wants to get his credits and get out of here.

is still dealing with a lot of trauma & grief, especially since the one year anniversary of tatiana’s death was this month (january) - causes him to spiral and be unpredictable in regards of his mental health. he stopped taking his medication, so. :/ some days are alright, other days are pretty bad.

personality.

the human embodiment of a gremlin that was fed after midnight. a goblin, if you will. one of those cats with a narrow head and really big ears ... that’s them!

can appreciate the lore & cryptids at radcliffe and likes to feed into the fear that surrounds them. is probably the cause of a few ‘anomalies’ and ‘paranormal sightings’ because they’re just ... a jerk.

they can be really fucking mean? petty, aggressive, a major instigator. will literally spit in your face for little to no reason, you could just look at them the wrong way. the kind of person who will stick their gum into someone else’s hair. other than that? they’re like ... sort of okay. they’re not always mean, just a dick about 90% of the time lmao

like okay yeah they’ll call someone a stinky bitch for no reason except they feel like it and believes it. it’s fine, they’re fine, we’re fine.

despite the fact that they’re probably getting into a fight whenever, considers themself to be a lover and not a fighter but that’a primarily because they fuck a lot. uses it as a coping mechanism, like they’re this big fancy carnival show that’s like ‘come one, come all! fuck the dead girl’s twin brother!’ and it’s ... a Lot. might have a problem with hypsersexuality but they’re not fully aware of it.

the preacher’s whore son, basically :)

vastly impulsive ... like i said, they destroy their own creations for the fun of it. spends all teir money on useless shit, will cheat on someone because they feel like it & likes the thrill, screams into the night sky frequently like a cat in heat.

will also spend months creating useless shit for no reason too. spent six of them sculpting a hollowed out tree the size of them & then took a sledgehammer to it.

will absolutely not talk about their ‘time away’ because it’s not anyone’s business, not even their own younger sister. still refuses to talk about tatiana’s death, or their mental health, or their addiction (fallen back into it but it hasn’t gotten severe ... yet :/), or anything involving their own emotions.

will just change the topic abruptly, no warning. asks about the jonas brothers instead and they fucking hate the jonas brothers.

emotionally unavailable while also crying twice a day. cries during their brawls but still wins. is stony-faced when they tell you they cheated on you with your much hotter best friend.

but also emotional as shit and it’s confusing. will cry on a whim and then flip you off if you try to console them or ask them what’s up. will bite you.

they go to therapy but they just fuck around and wastes their therapists’ time ... also is fucking their therapist, but that’s neither here nor there. so they’re not really getting the help they need.

likes to be intimidating but not ... with their body or anything because they’re a TWIG but uses their love & knowledge of horror and creepy shit to their advantage. has an abundance of fake blood. has channeled the energy of jack nicholson and used it on tatiana’s boyfriends before (also is a big fan of sfx makeup & has dabbled in it)

probably chases kids around with a chainsaw without the chain on halloween every year.

generally never doing good, both mental health wise & morally. would probably steal candy from a baby for funsies.

an introverted reclusive type who doesn’t like most people or going out, but does so anyway if it means a quick high & a cheap thrill.

pretty observant and likes to analyze people even though they’re often like ... partially wrong. judgmental because they like to make people feel bad, not because they’re a righteous mighty person. because they’re not. so like, a hypocrite!

wanted connections.

a roommate... but it’s an absolute nightmare to live with him.

enemies... because viktor would have a lot of them...

familiar faces... people who knew tatiana or of her / were her friends. maybe even those who dated her, and who viktor would’ve tried to intimidate / scare at any given chance :/

pitiful glances... people who take pity on viktor and he hates it sooo much.

hooligan gremlin kids... just a friend group of grown ass adults who do drugs and fuck shit up around town like they’re edgy teenagers.

high school girlfriend... probably the one he lost his virginity to inside his family church :/

childhood acquaintances... people who knew him from his youth.

exes... good & bad terms, but mostly bad terms because viktor is an actual demon. probably cheated on them.

soft... i don’t know if he’s soft towards anyone and/or is capable of it but we can try. we can try.

unrequited... either viktor just doesn’t like them or he’s holding back because he’s :/ got issues with relationships & is self-sabotaging as one does

enemies with Tension... of the ... spicy kind if you know what i mean. wink.

friends... old friends, new friends, bad friends, good friends, close friends, frenemies, etc. i don’t know how many he had but if your muse likes to cause a ruckus and fuck shit up then viktor’s your man.

hook-ups... current or old. friends with benefits, one night stands, anything and everything because he fucks around a lot.

ride or die... friendship but make it extreme.

bad influence... he’s just toxic to be around and brings out the worst in people :/

bad egg... he’s gotten into a few fights :/ maybe you witnessed it. maybe you were in it.

literally anything i wld love all sorts of plots.

#radintro #death tw #grief tw #overdose tw #addiction tw #hospitalization tw #mental illness tw #hypersexuality tw #religion mention tw

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