#i know this is the time in my life where im supposed to be Starting A Career or whatever and moving to whatever city

[mochelisgf]

CHAPTER ONE —

ᰔ — pairing: morgan cheli x oc (mar williams)

ᰔ — word count: 1600

ᰔ — warnings: none rlly, little flirting and mentions of drinking, partying that’s about it

ᰔ — links: character list, fanfic masterlist

ᰔ — story masterlist

ᰔ — authors note: hiii we are back :3 juju storyline is starting to appear….jealous mo storyline? Anyways so the first 3 chapters for this fic are already written and have been uploaded to Wattpad, so if ur feeling impatient then u can read ahead on at @m0cheli on Wattpad, hope u enjoyyyy and let me know if there’s anything that you want in future chapters or u have any blurb ideas of mo and mar 🩷

The first thing Maureen hears when she wakes up is the door to her dorm opening and two familiar voices echoing throughout the main area.

You’d think her first instinct would be to cover her ears and groan in tiredness, but no, her first instinct is to jump up. If Georgia and Renee of all people are up and lively……then what time was it?

Immediately jumping up and grabbing her phone she checks her alarm ‘snoozed’. snoozed?….maureen doesn’t even remember the last time she’s snoozed her alarm, oh god she looks a mess right now.

And just as she’s about to turn her phone off, a notification catches her eye. It’s a email, from the office in charge of the dorm unit building – confused she clicks on it, her confusion deepens even more when she reads

‘Sometime within the next 2 weeks, you will receive a roommate in replacement of your last. Please contact us if you have any other information’

…..what the fuck—

The music is blasting. The smell of weed, liquor and sweat floating throughout. And her first sentence is

“Oh my god I can’t believe I let you guys drag me to a frat party – on campus. I thought we were supposed to go to club rio, what the fuck” Maureen whines, dragging the k in the last word

“Dude calm down, being at a frat party is the last thing you need to be worried about. What you need to be worried about is how you haven’t gotten pussy is 3 months– ” ree smirked out

“oh that’s so unnecessary, you know unlike some people, I actually have a life and a job and shit to do–” Maureen responded

Georgia sighed deeply, rubbing her forehead before saying

“Okay no. Y’all need to calm down or seperate, I don’t know but all I know is – mar you need to go and talk to people, and no I’m not referring to the people you share classes with. Talk to a girl or a guy and most importantly have fun okay, I’m gonna go bye” making a salute pose before heading into the crowd.

Maureen stands awkwardly, looking around hoping that she’ll see someone she notices – anyone really, just wanting to get away but needing an excuse; that doesn’t last very long when she hears a squeal come from beside her —

“Kayla!!! Oh my god, where have you been” ree asked as she smiles widely — ree’s friend — kayla responds equally excited “Hiiiii, i've been around, ugh im so glad you were finally able to come —”

She interrupts herself as she look on the other side of ree, her eyes landing on me “And youuuu must be Maureen, ree mentions you all the—”

“Kayla!” her cousin proclaimed, embarrassment flooding her face; and Maureen in response snickers. “Oops….well uh me and the girls haven’t been here long, but you can come chill with us if you want” kayla responds

Ree turns around and looks at the girl standing beside her “Mar?” she says, giving her a look of desperation — and i mean who am I to deny my cousin? “Yeah that’s cool” Maureen says, giving an awkward smile.

Kayla, Maureen and Renee make their way to the other side of the room, stopping along the way to get drink — her cousin, who turns around to meet her eye tells her –

“dude you really need to take more…you days, you need to loosen up, we’re at a party. Act like it.” A smile sitting on her lips as she hands her the cup filled with – honestly she doesn’t even know

“Yea, okay sorry” she says, accepting the cup and taking a sip – her face scrunching up from the taste — Maureen has always had a problem with apologizing, doing it when there's no reason to, but I guess that’s what happens when you're a people pleaser.

Finally pushing through the crowd, the trio makes their way to a more closed off area, sitting there are a big group of girls, everyone engaged in their own conversations whether they were the ones explaining it or listening.

Kayla walks fully in the room, leading us in. The first one to notice us is kk — i’d never met any of the girls on the team but kk – everyone knows kk, if you don't know her on the court you’ll know her from tiktok videos that pop up on your for you page randomly.

“Hey kayla girly pop!” is the first thing the girl says, everyone in result turns – conversations stopping abruptly.

Kayla moves closer towards me and ree, putting one of her hands on our shoulders “Guys this is Renee – my roommate's friend and her cousin Maureen! Mar is a law major – crazy right?” she says, a smile large on her face

And just as abruptly the noise ended; the noise of welcome started.

Some time has passed by; Maureen, ree and georgia – who later rejoined the two are all tired out from dancing and singing, voices raw and broken – the bright blue lights and smoke floating in the room making their heads and eyes hurt.

Maureen gets up from her seat and turns slightly towards the two girls “hey I’m gonna go get another drink, want anything?” both girls shake their heads no and so Maureen smiles slightly before walking off

She makes her way to the built-in bar, a taller man behind the counter – obviously hired, looks up at the girl and smiles signaling a ‘hold on a minute’ before finishing the drink he was making and handing it to the man that sits across from her.

“What can I get for you, pretty lady?” He says with a kind smile

Maureen smiles back “umm what’s like…the weakest drink you have?” Maureen doesn’t drink very often, and when she does she usually sticks to 2-3 drinks max. But after the news of her getting a replacement roommate and the amount of stress she’s just been in recently, lord knows she needed a night of complete freedom.

The man responds back “don’t worry I got you” and starts making her drink – he gets to the second step before she realizes what he’s making – a ‘vodka soda’ – exactly what she needed right now. He finishes the drink quickly and serves it up to her.

And so Maureen sits there, by herself, slowing sipping on her drink and scrolls on her phone – snaps a pic or two of herself and when she near finished she’s about to call the nice bar man over when –

“Hey! You’re Maureen right?” A voice beside her says. The voice sounds like the most…..calming thing she’s ever heard, like silvery and comforting and just a little bit raspy. Maureen immediately turns around, wanting to put a face to the voice and comes face to face with – someone she’s never met?….

Obviously Maureen’s face says what her voice isn’t and the girl chuckles slightly in realization “I’m Morgan, I play on the girls basketball team. I wasn’t there earlier but the girls told me that Renee and her cousin had joined us, just wanted to properly introduce myself, you know without all the drunk idiots surrounding us.” she says, her voice slowly fading in embarrassment and her cheeks turning a light pink when she realizes she’s began over talking

“Oh yeah, they told me a few of you were missing! Nice to meet you, I’m Maureen – which you already know but um….you wanna sit?” I suggested, gently tucking my hair behind my ears. “oh yeah I’d love to, thanks” she accepted

We sat there for who knows how long, just talking – shy and wandering looks but everything about this girl felt genuine – the way she actually seemed interested in what Maureen had to say, how they’d only known each other for an hour and a half and she felt like she could tell her anything.

“So I’m like ‘what are you talking about, the reason the boy became what he was isn’t because he was born like that but because of the horrible living conditions he had to live in and the lack of – ”

“Marrrrrrr i'm tired, let's go home.” The girl hears, as she turns around and sighs deeply, ree laid out on the bar counter. She turns back around facing Morgan – her face displaying obvious annoyance. Morgan in reply smiles slightly, her head tilting down slightly before she gets up out of her chair

“Do you need help?” is the first thing she asks – no, first thing she’s said in almost 20 minutes as she was previously listening to me talk non stop about something she’d known nothing about

“No i should be okay, I gotta go find my other friend and then get them both home, thank you for asking though that was kind” Maureen says also getting up from her seat, having to slightly look up to the 6 foot tall girl and her deep brown hair down that’s laying softly on her shoulders and her big beautiful brown eye –

“Um I don’t have my phone on me right now, but how about I get your insta from Paige tomorrow?” Morgan asks, wanting permission before doing so,

Maureen fiddles with the top of her skirt and responds back “Yeah that’s cool, I’ve gotta go now, so I guess I’ll see you later then?” reaching up to give Morgan a hug, and she feels the girls hands hug her mid back before they separate, both of their cheeks red and hot.

As Morgan is walking away, Maureen sighs deeply before collecting herself and helping her cousin up to her feet

“Hey so, where did you last see Georgia” –

— INSTAGRAM —

liked by morgancheli, juju watkins, georgiaeous and 83 others

mrwilliamsss club classics

view all comments......

jujuwatkins yk u lookin a lil too fine i mighttt have to fly you out idk

— mrwilliams idkkk u might have to

georgiaeous she may be hot but she's secretly a loser!!!

— mrwilliamsss i don’t know how to respond to that ngl

morgancheli So like... Hi 😊

— mrwilliamsss Hey 🤗

r3neewilliams you post too early

— mrwilliams just say your sleep routine sucks! Hope this helps

[silentsneezes]

Heyy me again… ahahah

Do you have any silco with allergies hc’s or maybe a k!nk Silco/Vander Zaundads fic?

Totally asking this with normal intentions, completely not obsessed or anything!

(Im gnawing at the bars of my enclosure i love your writing)

thank you anon!! trust me when i say i'm also gnawing at the bars of my enclosure... so here's almost 3k of sick v/ander and kink s/ilco

i'll probably continue this in the future, but between university and life things i haven't had as much time to write... so we'll see

anyways, this is set pre-everything in the show. you could read it as an au if you want!

The Last Drop on a Saturday is no fucking joke. Vander knows that full well, always double checking his list of opening tasks to ensure things run smoothly. Only a few hours after opening, the dimly lit, smoke-filled haven is already filled to its capacity. Earlier that day, there had been a boxing match held in a nearby arena, and it’s safe to say people are still riding that high. Vander picks up on arguments over bets that were won or lost, prideful drunkards boasting about how they’d been rooting for the champion all along.

The bar practically roars with the infectious excitement, only encouraged by the drinks the patrons continue to slam back. Vander doesn’t mind, he’s quite pleased with how popular his bar is, especially on nights where boxing matches occur. Everyone needs a good drink after a match, he supposes. Plus, the influx in business never hurts– people typically become more generous tippers the drunker they get. 

Vander works mindlessly as he pours drink after drink, zoning out to the sounds of raucous laughter, the clink of glass against wood, and the quiet kshhhh of the keg. The conversations are nothing more than a full-on-chorus, which has its pros and cons. 

On one hand, it allows Vander to zone out to the constant noise, letting himself work without second thought.

On the other hand, Vander feels like fucking shit. He’d been coming down with something the past couple of days, but he’d figured it wasn’t anything a few DayQuil couldn’t fix. Now, he’s beginning to realize that he was sorely mistaken in his initial dismissal of the cold. His usual charming grin doesn’t come as easily tonight, and when he wipes his brow, it’s not just due to the heat of the room. His skin is coated in a feverish sheen, his cheeks uncharacteristically flushed as he forces himself to work through his rising fever. 

The frequenters of the bars notice– at least those sober enough to– but they’ve seen this before. Vander’s tough. He’s the kind of guy who keeps his bar open for better or for worse, so when he’s sick, they just give him a look of silent understanding: he’ll be fine, he always is. 

As ‘fine’ as Vander might be, his movements are dulled by fever. He keeps moving, keeps working—filling mugs, passing shots, refilling drinks– functioning as if he’s on autopilot. His work is only interrupted as he hears the familiar drawl of his friend’s voice. 

“Is anybody home?” Silco asks with a slight smirk, looking Vander up and down as he takes a seat on the barstool closest to the sick man, observing his absent expression. Vander opens his mouth to reply, pausing momentarily to clear his throat before gruffly responding, “very funny, Silco,” sarcastically. He starts making Silco’s drink wordlessly, knowing exactly what the other likes. Vander doesn’t bother filling the silence between the two of them, letting the steady roar of auditory input wash over him. 

“Long day?” Silco questions, frowning as a nearby customer lets out a howl of laughter at his own joke, “I’ll bet you 20 gold coins he soils himself by the end of the night.” 

Vander finds it somewhat amusing how Silco always seems to take issue with the other patrons of the bar, as if he finds himself somewhat above this crowd. “I’d be an idiot to take you up on that,” Vander says with a tired grin, his lips barely curling upwards as he leans in, resting his weight on the bartop. He places the drink in front of Silco with a heavy thud, the glass almost too solid in his grip, as if it’s an anchor to keep him from slipping under the noise and fatigue. “You know how they get after boxing matches.”

“Oh, do I,” Silco replies, the words clipped, his voice carrying an immense judgement of those customers who lack any semblance of manners or public decency. He doesn’t like them, doesn’t trust them, but he does like Vander. 

Vander struggles to think up a response, his usual charm and banter replaced with a steady painful thrum threatening to become a migraine. The noise of the bar presses against his skull like a vice, and just as he finally manages to think up an adequate response, he feels it coming. A tickle in his nose, faint at first, but enough to make his breath catch as it buzzes through his sinuses. 

At first he tries to fight it, swiping at his nose roughly with the backside of his hand. His other hand searches his pockets for a rag, a handkerchief, anything. Unfortunately for him, the sneeze builds quickly. His eyes are forced to scrunch shut as his chest swells with an urgent, “hhHHHH-” and for a half-second, everything around him goes blurry, the pressure in his sinuses making his head swim, “hHHRRZZSCHHH’HUw!!”

Vander turns away from the bartop just in time, snapping forwards into his elbow with a resounding sneeze, one that grates his throat enough as to where he has to blink away a few tears. Silco watches with rapt attention, his abdomen pooling with hot attraction as he observes Vander’s broad frame nearly bend itself in two with the force of the sneeze. 

“Bless you,” Silco purrs, his voice low and sultry. The blessing practically rolls off of his tongue, and yet Vander knows it’s not just out of politeness. You see, Silco doesn’t just bless anyone. For him, offering a blessing is somewhat of a privilege, something one earns through continuous affection, and he and Vander are nothing if not affectionate. 

“I’ve got the whole damn package today—head full of cement and a nose that thinks it’s spring,” Vander mutters, barely able to keep the irritation out of his voice. Had he not known about Silco’s kink, he would’ve been entirely fed up with his body's need to sneeze. Except there’s a sliver of him that can’t help but relish the fact that he can make Silco squirm so easily. If he has to feel so utterly miserable, someone might as well enjoy it, right?

And he is miserable, nothing short of it. Silco, however, seems to be basking in Vander’s sickness, finding it difficult to resist the sight of his friend turned fuck-buddy turned… whatever it is they are now. 

“Why is it you insist on working when you’re sick?” Silco questions, knowing full-well the stubborn answer he’s about to receive– it’s the same every time. 

Except Vander doesn’t answer, letting Silco’s question hang in the air as he raises a hand to his nose. It’s back again, that bothersome, tantalizing itch that’s been wreaking havoc on his nose all night, “hhHHH’uh-”

At the sound of Vander’s hitch, Silco prepares himself for the imminent sneeze. Vander has never been one to have dramatic build ups when he’s sick– though allergies are an entirely different feat– rather, his sneezes come on quickly with one to two hitches beforehand. 

Unable to find a rag in time, Vander settles for cupping a broad hand over his nose and mouth, “hHHMMPH’DSSXCHHhew!” The sneeze is barely muffled against his palm, and Vander can feel moisture threatening to slip through his fingers. He pinches his nose between his thumb and his forefinger, gathering the residual mess and moving to wash his hands. 

When Vander returns to the bartop, he sees Silco, his gaze intensely focused, waiting with that unsettling calm, as if he could pounce at any moment. Had the countertop not been separating them, Vander is certain Silco would be draping an arm around his waist and pulling him close. And god does he want that. 

Just as Vander moves to prop himself against the bartop again, he hears a drunken, “Oi! Vander!” and groans internally, straightening up and snapping out of his exhausted haze. The woman, a regular frequenter of the bar, leans against the other side of the counter with a casual air, “Get me something strong, but nice. I’ve got a lady to impress,” she says with a smirk. Usually, Vander would have the energy to engage in some sort of playful banter, perhaps asking the customer as to who she’s pursuing tonight. Instead, he rattles off a few drink options, giving her a sideways glance as she chooses the strongest of the drinks he’d proposed, “You sure? It’s got one hell of a kick.”

The customer dismisses his warning with a wave of her hand and a chuckle, “I’m feeling lucky today.”

“Liquid luck,” Silco tuts almost inaudibly from his seat, though it goes unheard by anyone aside from Vander, “what a foolish concept.”

Vander’s lips curl into a slight smirk at the sound of Silco’s words, but he forces himself to maintain focus. He has a job to do. With a sigh, Vander grabs a glass, still feeling the steady ache that only a cold can instill. As he’s about to start mixing, he feels that nagging sensation in his nose return, the familiar tickle building once again. He grimaces, trying to hold it back for the sake of not sneezing into a customer's drink, but his body has a different plan. His breath hitches involuntarily, forcing him to pivot away from the countertop without even setting the glass down first. He draws in a final, urgent breath before snapping forwards and spraying the tiled floor with an uncovered, “hHHRRRSSXCHHHh’eHw!” 

As the sneeze fades, Vander stays still for a moment, eyes squeezed shut, his body still catching up with the sudden burst of pressure. He forces himself to stand upright, tending to the moisture clinging to his septum with his sleeve. He’d usually have a bit more decorum when it comes to covering and utilizing his sleeve as a tissue, for the sake of germs moreso than any feeling of embarrassment, but he’s too fucking tired tonight. 

“Salud,” the woman blesses absentmindedly, watching as Vander composes himself enough to make her drink, “you look sick as a dog,” she comments. Vander just continues mixing the drink, replying with a halfhearted, “that’s never stopped me before.”

“Touche.” Luckily, the woman leaves the conversation at that, exchanging the drink for a few gold pieces and making her way across the bar back to the person she’s trying to impress. 

“She’s right, you look terrible,” Silco says matter-of-factly, drawing Vander’s attention back to him. His fingers trail along the rim of his now empty glass, his expression smug as he receives an eye-roll in response. 

Vander doesn’t have time to reply as another customer approaches the bar, and he internally curses as he turns away from the one person in the bar he actually wants to see right now. His head throbs, the dull ache in his throat turning into a tight, bothersome burning sensation. As he prepares a round of shots, every movement feels slower than his last, his limbs growing heavier as the evening progresses. 

Finally, after what feels like hours, there’s a lull in drink orders, and Vander has the opportunity to return to his conversation with Silco. He doesn’t bother with pleasantries, instead saying, “you’ve got a handkerchief, no?”

“I always do,” Silco replies effortlessly, a slight smirk tugging at his lips as he registers where this is going. Vander extends his hand wordlessly, becoming increasingly frustrated with his nose running like a faucet. 

“Use your words,” Silco tuts, though his eyes flick between Vander’s outstretched hand and his nose, reddened and irritated after being berated all day. 

“Silco,” Vander huffs huskily, evidently too exhausted to tolerate any sort of teasing, “give it here.”

“That’s no way to treat a customer.”

“Bullshit, you’re not a customer.”

“Hm, then what am I?” Silco asks, enjoying this far more than he should. His hand slips into the inner pocket of his vest, extracting his crimson red handkerchief from its resting place. He keeps it hidden in his lap, waiting for the perfect moment to submit to Vander’s request. 

“A brat.” 

Vander’s hand remains outstretched, waiting for Silco to drop the dominant act and give in. Fuck me Vander mentally curses as the itch swells in his nose again, forcing his wide nostrils to flare in protest. It’s like Silco was waiting for this moment—the vulnerability of Vander, flushed and slightly out of breath, his hitches almost an invitation. 

“I know you always hhhHave one on you. Give it to m-hHHH-me dammit,” Vander’s previously annoyed tone is replaced with one of urgency. Both he and Silco know damn well he can’t hold back for shit. 

Silco watches, waiting until the very last second before pressing the handkerchief into Vander’s palm. His fingers brush across the calloused skin of Vander’s hand, which is nearly twice the size of his. Vander clutches the handkerchief, turning on his heel and doubling over as a sneeze tears through him, “hHHHGGSXCHHH’Hh’ugh!”

“Bless you,” Silco purrs once again, silently cursing the countertop separating him from the sick man. He can feel his arousal making itself known, pressing against the tight confines of his pants, “You’ll be making that up to me, you know I don’t share–” he begins, but Vander cuts him off. 

“I’ve been pudting on a show for you all nighd. Don’d be so greedy,” he mumbles huskily, the congestion in his voice dulling certain consonants. Vander gives his nose a strangled blow. It’s unsuccessful at first, eliciting a huff of frustration from the man. With both hands holding the handkerchief over his nose, he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the next attempt. The second noseblow is much more productive, clearing his airways as best they can be with a cold ravaging his nose.

“That’s better,” Vander acknowledges, tucking the– already soiled– handkerchief into his back pocket and moving to wash his hands again. Silco, having been observing Vander’s every move, shifts to relieve some of the pressure in his pants. 

“It’s a shame you have to work,” he comments idly, knowing full well that Vander could’ve called someone in to cover his shift, “I’ve heard a good fuck is quite the cure-all for colds.” 

Silco’s bluntness never fails to catch Vander’s attention. People typically shy away from expressing their kinks, especially one as bizarre as sneezing, but Silco treats it as he does anything that can bring him sexual gratification: without shame– though don’t be mistaken, he’s eager to indulge in humiliation when given the chance. 

Vander knows exactly what Silco is alluding to, weighing the benefits of closing early or calling someone to take his place. His stubbornness and grit can only last so long, it seems, as he leans heavily against the bartop again. 

Grinning as he recognizes the slight defeat in Vander’s expression, Silco presses on, “Would it be so terrible to take a night off? I’d stay, of course, to attend to your needs.”

Vander looks up, his eyes traveling from the smirk on Silco’s face to his slightly unbuttoned top– had his chest been so visible before, so appealing? His view of Silco’s slim waist is blocked by the counter, but he’s almost certain Silco’s hard to some extent; it really only takes a few sneezes to get him going. After all, Vander’s are his favorite. 

“Fine,” he agrees stubbornly, glancing at the clock. Typically, The Last Drop would stay open well into the night and through the earliest hours of the morning, but it’s only 11:30 and Vander feels like dead weight. He leans down, searching for the bar-phone he keeps next to the especially expensive liquors. Upon finding it, he dials an employee's number despite the guilt ringing through his mind. He’s not one to give up easily, and he’s certainly given one hell of a fight to make it through this shift, but the promise of a quieter room and Silco’s attention is enough to sway him. 

“Jay? I’m sorry to ask, but–,” Vander pauses as his breath hitches, the itch suddenly returning with a vengeance. He holds the receiver as far away as possible, ducking to the side and clamping his other hand over his nose, “hhHHHGDTSCHHH’huew!” 

Apparently, Jay could still hear the utter desperation of the expulsion from over the phone– and was left to imagine the mess it made, and trust, it was messy– and is quick to say, “I’ll be there in twenty. Try not to drop dead by then.”

TBC…

as always, any reblogs, tags, and comments are very much appreciated!! i experimented with a different writing style with this fic, so any feedback is appreciated as well :3

[faaun]

i feel rly sad and conflicted abt one of my best friends on earth but idk who to ask for advice bc i usually would have consulted her in this situation lmao

[lunarharp]

wip thing...

of my bg3 avatar hellebore. i also did some casual nude studies of my 3 characters which i'll put under a cut... rather unlike me after all. (so WARNING for abrupt non-sexual full Artistic nudity lol...,,,,) (< won't be making a habit of this)

they mean the world to me

[br1ghtestlight]

living alone & sick for the first time and have come across a difficult question: who washes the dishes when you're too sick/tired to do them for days at a time

[thehardkandy]

I have now made it to six weeks, I think, of my daily mini workouts. Unfortunately doing it this consistently has in fact not made it any easier in the slightest. In honesty, it is harder because I do not have the momentum of the initial change. I am still going though

In reality too I probably have 2-3 weeks left at most that I will do, because after that I will no longer be home alone in the apartment. Still will have been worth doing I hope, so that I can do it easier when I eventually have the space long term

[screechingsandwichhologram]

my uninformed american opinion is that i will be calling it derry not londonderry because im american and therefore will always support ireland if its ireland vs the british.

(i wasn't even going to post this but i wrote a whole essay in the tags so i don't want to waste that)

[whoviandoodler]

you ever go into a tag for a show or whatever and find several painstakingly created gif sets from interviews with the actors where they're just like. fully mocking fans? talking about them like they're the most despicable thing on this earth kind of bitter mocking. and on the one hand you're like, okay, i get it, fans can really be shit and get overly parasocial and think you owe them something beyond the work you created but on the other it's like. bro this makes me not want to engage with anything you do at all. ever. you don't have to sing your fans praises but you can do them the basic courtesy of professionalism and not ridiculing the entirety of everyone who both engages with your creative work and whose interest ultimately results in your paycheck.

[acaciapines]

i need to talk about the dess raises kris au. or im gonna explode.

[stonedopossums]

starting to panic abt the move. im under so much stress.

[nerdie-faerie]

Thinking 'oh I'll be able to find my way, I used to live here' and immediately remembering I lived here in a pandemic and rarely went out is not a great start

[snowjosh]

paralyzed by wanting her

[burningcomputerpersona]

person: *shows even the slightest hint of interest in music that I enjoy*

me: ah yes a new victim muhahahaha

[shoveitevil]

god. why does no one care about me in this damned house

[phiniusandjelly]

Vaguely inspired by that one post where Danny gets summoned by the JL and keeps throwing his shoes and stuff at them bc HE might not be able to leave the summoning circle but his clothes sure can!

I think the twist for that was that the circle doesnt effect him at all because hes a halfa and he was just goofing with the JL.

But imagine if the summoning and containment WORKED.

Like, he gets summoned and its startling, but once he realizes hes been summoned hes mostly annoyed.

Its a school night! He has work to do! Sure he wasnt DOING it, but it was still a possibility!

And hes trying to banter with the JL. Which for him just means being vaguely-obnoxious-but-somewhat-charming.

But then he tries to leave.

Maybe hes worried about his friends reaction to seeing him disappear.

Maybe the JL are saying some anti ghost/demon/whatever they think he is nonsense.

Maybe he changed his mind about doing that homework.

But either way, it doesnt work.

He drags his hand along the edge of the spell. It doesnt give, and he realizes hes not sure what this spell is supposed to do.

Its all along the floor beneth him, he cant fly through the floor.

He tries to get away from the walls and floor, worried whatever spell makes up the container can be triggered to hurt him or brainwash him or SOMETHING.

Its not his best guest, but he has never been summoned before, at least not with this type of barrier, and he doesnt know what to expect.

He barely gets a few feet off the ground when he hits the spells invisible roof.

And he is trapped.

And now this fourteen year old child is caged in a room with clearly dangerous adult strangers.

After hes been more or less kidnapped.

He’s suddenly regretting insulting them.

And its not his first time beimg kidnapped. Or his first time being in danger in general (obviously).

but its usually some ghost! Or Vlad “Loser, I hardly know her!” Masters!

Both of whom explain literally everything they plan in long ass evil monologues! It usually takes danny five minutes tops to learn their entire life story Dr Doofenshmirtz style!

He knows most of them personally! They hang out sometimes! Heck! even the local ghost hunters are either literally related to him or someone he’s dated!

He knows their powersets, their strengths, their weaknesses.

Most importantly, he knows their goals

But now hes trapped. In a room of clearly superpowerd strangers. With magical abilities strong enough to trap him for real.

And has no idea what they want

And Danny just freezes up

This could be super angsty if the JL were told that he was evil and think his panic + young features are only done to manipulate them.

You can also add angst with a language barrier/translation issue

I imagine the JL would be trying to get information about ghosts/ are trying to get someone to fight a villain they can’t defeat

Its going to scare the shit out of Danny either way- like imagine fourteen year old you gets kidnapped by strangers and they start asking you about your weaknesses or say they will only let you out if you agree to fight this monster.

And if Danny doesnt know this villain or how tf hes going to fight them he might feel like hes being sent off to get his ass kicked.

I can just imagine Danny being told he has to fight this supervillain and being like “…if i like..die…trying to fight this guy…what are you going to do with my body? Like will you send me home? Cause my family will freak if my corpse is teleported into the living room”

JL would not be happy about any of his responses.

Im begging someone to write this please have a nice day

[snekdood]

any time ive been scared or paranoid about something and ppl dismissed me bc of my past but i ended up being right- those ppl owe me 100 dollars.