#and visibly scarred daniel

[starry-bi-sky]

Danielle and Danyal's meeting... very, very quickly goes very sour from, basically, the moment Danny steps into his room and finds Ellie sitting on his bed (strike one) and reading the comic books Tucker introduced him to (strike two). By the time she's looked up to address him, Danny has the door locked, and a hand hovering near the knife hidden under his shirt.

She gets her third strike when Danny, in a voice that could make the mountains tremble, demands to know how she got into his room, and she lies (with uncertainty of her decision growing in her chest) that Jazz let her in. Danny's hand shifts closer to his weapon, and he turns towards her fully, and says that Jazz would never let someone he didn’t know into his room, and who was she.

(Vlad Masters had underprepared Danielle for her meeting with Danny -- not out of any completely direct malicious intent, but he failed to mention just how... 'touchy' Daniel could be -- he failed to mention the scars littering up his arms, unhidden by the hoodie tee he meets Ellie in. He failed to mention that along with those scars, that Danny was visibly lean, capable of doing very real damage without the use of his powers.)

(He tells Ellie that he’s adopted, and that he is observant and clever, but ungrateful and has a bad attitude.)

Her final strike occurs when Ellie, trying to keep her facade of cheeriness, tells him that she’s his third cousin once removed. Immediately, Danny has his dagger pulled out, and Ellie finds herself with the cold metal of a blade pressing against her throat.

Danyal 'A.G' Fenton hasn’t killed since he arrived in Amity Park. At first it was because mother told him to keep a low profile, and killing would do the opposite of that. But, he's been slowly learning from his sister and friends over the years the value of human life. So it's become a combination of keeping his head down, and also that life has value to it.

But. That doesn’t mean he can’t kill, nor is he opposed to doing it if the situation calls for it. It just means that he doesn't do it. And ‘Danielle’ is an unknown in his room, claiming to be family to him, and appearing uncannily similar to him and his family. Either someone hired her and she was trying to pass herself off as a relative to him because that someone realized Danny was the biggest threat, or, his false death has been compromised, his mother was unable to tell him, and the league was aware he was alive.

No matter how he looks at it, this Danielle was a threat to him, his sister, his friends, to Damian, and to the Drs. Fenton. Danyal Fenton doesn't kill, but he has no problems doing so.

(Ellie, pinned under Danny’s knee and the blade to her neck, is too terrified to think of phasing out of his hold. Not that it would help, he would just chase after her.)

“You have broken into my home, dared to lie to my face, and when I demanded to know the truth, you dared lie to me again." Danny's scowl could cower even Skulker, his glacier blue eyes burning. "Your continual breath has been a favor from me, that I have graciously allowed, from the moment you entered my room, dahkil."

"So I will ask one more time," he hisses, "who. are. you."

Danielle, only a few months old, unprepared for the ice storm that is "Daniel" Fenton, and his clone in only flesh and blood, and not memories, immediately breaks. And tells him that she was his clone, that Vlad sent her to come capture him, and to please not kill her.

Danny's face twists with anger, Ellie thinks he's going to kill her anyways. Instead, he withdraws his knife and gets off her, stringing out curses in Arabic as he sheathes his weapon back into its hiding place faster than Ellie can blink.

He switches to English as she is collecting her bearings (and contemplating fleeing), and Danny paces the room like a tiger in a cage. "--of course that wretched, arrogant, peacocking little ingrate would do something so infuriating. I should have driven my sword into the shrivel of his heart when I had the chance--"

Ellie, for a moment, thinks of leaving while he is distracted. And starts to slowly creep away. But Danny notices instantly, and whirls on her. His too-bright eyes bore into her head: "Where do you think you're going."

"...I'm leaving."

And Danny scoffs at her, "Why? So you can fly back to Masters and tell him that you failed to capture me, and that I know that he cloned me?" He says, and Ellie remains silent -- that's exactly what she was going to do. "He will destroy you within seconds."

Of course, Ellie rears back in offense, and she finds the footing to glare at him. "He would not! He's my dad, he loves me!"

Danny gets in her face, glowering back with an equal intensity. "He does not." He snaps, "Vlad Masters has not a soul in his body nor a heart in his chest. He would sooner cut off the hand that helps him stand, than to take it along with him."

"If you're really made of my blood, then I will teach you only this: we bow not our heads nor our hearts to anyone." Danny's too-blue eyes narrow, and his voice dips into a hiss, "Especially not to a conniving snake like Masters. Your heart: cut it off, or cut it out. He will sooner leave you to bleed."

Then, he unlocks the door and drags her out before she has much time to act. And as he drags her down the hall he shoots Sam and Tucker a text, and they meet up at Nasty Burger. Ellie is a spitfire, but Danny has her too intimidated to leave.

"This is Danielle," he tells them bluntly as he corners her into the booth, "she's my clone. Masters created her."

Ellie is with them for a week, and somehow throughout that time, Danny manages to actually get her to like him throughout that time. He's callous, blunt, and full of sharp edges that you can cut yourself on. But when he's not spitting venom, he's fretting.

When he drags her back to the house after being with Sam and Tucker, he pulls her to Jazz's room and opens the door to tell her the same thing. "This is Danielle." He says upon abruptly opening the door, interrupting Jazz's studying as he pulls Ellie inside. "She is my clone, Masters created her. She needs clothes."

Then he turns and leaves, shutting the door behind him. Ellie, in that moment, thinks that now's her chance to flee. But Jazz then squeals, and she is trapped in new arms, shaken around by Jazz Fenton, excited for a sister.

(Ellie finds herself complaining to Jazz that night, shoved into old pajamas. She's in utter disbelief that Jazz could care about a jerk like Danny.)

("He's rough around the edges, but Danny does care." Jazz tells her, combing through her hair with her fingers. "We've been working on it ever since he joined the family, but Danny warms up slowly. He's usually less stoney; I think your arrival spooked him.")

("Spooked him?" Ellie repeats, she doesn't believe it at all. "He has a funny way of showing it, he threatened to kill me!" And she turns around just in time to see Jazz's press her lips into a line.)

("He's... very protective. He'll deny if you ask him, but he worries a lot." Jazz's fingers find her hair again. "What I do know for certain though, is that he wouldn't have kept you here if he wasn't worried about you at least a little bit.")

(Ellie doubts it.)

But Ellie is indeed there for a week, and the day after her initially rocky introduction with Danny, he is a little bit kinder to her. Still kinda a bitch, but he's less harsh to her, if... almost uncomfortable around her. Flighty, kinda.

Whenever she gets mouthy at him though, he looks oddly smug about it and, infuriatingly enough, praises her attitude. He is very, very annoying. And still kinda terrifying. But hearing him shout insults via puns at someone during a ghost fight that happens that week lessens the intimidating factor,,, a little bit.

Things go about,,,, relatively,,,, similar to canon. In the sense that it ends with Ellie defecting from Vlad because she finds out that Danny was right and that Vlad didn't actually care about her. (And that Jazz had been right too; Danny, in his weird, mean way, had been worried about her as well)

Danny looks out of his depth as she talks about how he was right, and he cuts her off with a vaguely uncomfortable clearing of his throat. And gives her the most awkward, but genuine apology he can muster.

"I should've used more tact when telling you about Masters, and I... apologize for threatening you when we met. I was..." he makes a face like he's sucked on a particularly sour lemon, "worried. First about my family, and then later about you."

(Ellie will be damned: Jazz was right)

Before Ellie leaves, Danny puts a hand on her shoulder and tells her: "I wasn't kidding about what I said to you when we first met: you are of my blood, and as such, you do not bow your head nor your heart to anyone."

Ellie looks at him, thinks about the last week, and smiles like she's caught him in a trap. "What about Sam and Tucker then? And Jazz?"

Danny smiles, it's awkward and tilted, like his face isn't used to the gesture. "We bow not our hearts, but that doesn't mean we can't share."

#danny speaks in formal english when he's pissed. he goes full on 'i shall eat his heart in the marketplace' levels of formal #not quite a ficlet not quite a post talking about the idea but a secret third option: its both of these at the same time #dp x dc #dpxdc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #danyal al ghul au #dc x dp crossover #dc x dp au #dpxdc au #dcdp #dpdc au #dp dc crossover #older brother danny #danny is an asshole with a heart of gold #the writing feels all over the place but since its not a fic i dont feel that self conscious about it lol. very much spitballing here #morally gray danny fenton #poc danny fenton #look ellie MIGHt - and thats a big if - have gotten away with the cousin lie if it weren't for the fact that she's danny's clone #danny who is not white nor remotely white-passing in this au. she might have gotten away if he had been and she claimed she was #from jack's side of the family. but alas. danny is adopted. the fentons are whiter than sunscreen. and danny is not. #dani and danny's meeting in danyal al ghul aus have the potenial of being IMMEDIATE dumpster fires which is very funny to me #on the basis of if danny knows he's adopted or not and if dani claims to be related directly to him or to jack. #dani: im your third cousin once removed :) #danny. is adopted: i kNOW YOU LYING. CUZ YO LIPS ARE MOVING #i got fanart for this au on haunting heroes discord and it kickstarted my thoughts about danyal again. they gave him the BATWING EYEBROWS #ellie has the batwing eyebrows too that was the mind killer thats what fucked her over /j. those are UNIQUELY BRUCE WAYNE BROWS FOLKS #fuck i wish tumblr told us on laptop when we run out of tags because i just lost like 4 of them. good thing i got screenies those were FUNN

[adventuringblind]

Breathe For Me

LandOscar x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst

Dialouge: "It's okay, you can rest. We've got you. Just Breathe."

Summary: Marks on your soulmates skin appear on yours. Oscar and Lando hope they find whoever it is before they run out of time.

Warnings: SELF-HARM, Alcohol, scars, blood, panic attacks,

Notes: This is Part of my 1000 follower event. Feel free to click the link and throw me a request!

Masterlist

It's not every day you meet your soulmate. It's certainly not rare, but it also isn't an everyday event and is supposed to only happen once. If you're Lando Norris, then you get to go through it twice.

Originally he thought only one. I mean, maybe his souldmate is just clumsy. That is not the case however, because Lando has more scars, cuts, bumps, and bruises then anyone else he knows. He would be fine with it if he wasn't on national television all the time.

Max and Charles were lucky and found each other in Karting. Max had a bruise on his face from his dad and showed up to the race with it still getting darker. Charles had one to match. Now they're happily in love and the public doesn't now (is what they tell themselves).

So Lando finds himself stuck in between a soulmate who bruises every occasionally and on who gets scrapes nearly every day. He feels for whoever the first is because Lando is clumsy and is always running into things. Between himself and whoever the latter is, he probably is already exasperated.

Aside from his family, Carlos is the first person to notice. He double checks nothing is happening in Lando's own life that is causing all the marks. He assures happily that he's clumsy and the two soul mates certainly don't help.

Lando has heard of people carving names and addresses into their arms to find their destined partner. He lets it happen naturally. It's supposed destiny and who is he to rush it?

Daniel admits to an extreme worry of Lando. The older driver kept a close eye on him and Lando has to reassure him non-stop that he's clumsy, but it's not that bad.

He soon realizes that it's not the bruises Daniel is worried about, it's the scars. When his sweatshirt sleeves roll up the red lines are visible. It's something he's gotten used to over the past couple of years, but he dosen't think about it when he's not being filmed.

They cover a good amount of space on his body. Biceps, collarbone, thighs, stomach, and shins. It wasn't that bad until 2021 when it got significantly worse. It's stressing him out if he's being honest with himself.

He's is pieces when Daniel tells him he's losing his seat. No other driver lined up yet. Another teammate gone.

Daniel reassures him that Oscar looks like he'll make a good teammate. Lando is skeptical. Oscar is younger and a rookie.

The first time he meets Oscar is at the MTC. They shake hands, two sets of sleeves role up and Lando can't help but stare.

They match. Their wrists are completely identical.

They don't talk about it until a while later after spending the off season getting to know each other. They determined in Febuary they would be really close friends. It obviously escalated and now Charlotte keeps tell him to make it less obvious.

He's nit afraid to say he's weak for Oscar. A calm in his storm of emotions. The one person who can get him to actually rationalize his anxious thoughts.

In 2023, three rookies came to the grid. One of them being a female driver for alphatauri and a good friend of Oscar's. She then consequently became a friend of Lando's.

Which would be so terrible if Lando didn't know for a fact she's hiding something. She's shy and closed off to everybody unless it's him or Oscar. Mostly because he's forced his way under her skin.

"There is something about her, Osc. I can feel it in my bones."

"Are you sure it's not the cup of milk you downed getting to your head?"

"Rude!"

Oddly enough, it's max who approaches them about her later. He'd gotten to know her through media things and race weekends and often asked Lando about her or vice versa.

He pulls Oscar and him aside early one morning in the paddock. Oscar is still half asleep and Lando doesn't know what's happened until Max slides their sleeves up.

The ones they decided to wear to the cameras didn't pick up the fresh scar close to their elbow on their forearms. Completely identical to each other.

"You said you have another soulmate right?"

"Yes?"

"I think I might know who it is."

This is how Lando and Oscar find themselves in front of her hotel room door after the race. A DNF that wasn't her fault had ended her race early. Max had been about to go get her himself, but Lando and Oscar had said they would. If Max is right then they have a higher chance of getting through to the female driver.

Max sent them with the key card he has to her room. The one he forced her to give after he found her last night with a blade in her hand.

They knock out of curtosey first. No answer, as expected, but at least they tried. Maybe She’s asleep? Lando knows that’s probably not the case but he really doesn’t want to and see what is most likely happening. If the sting on his thigh says anything, it’s definitely not sleep.

Oscar keys the door open and hesitantly steps inside. Lando follows right on his heels. The lights are off and he would probably think it was empty if it weren’t for the visible blob of blankets in the corner that’s sobbing violently. to close to hyperventilation for Lando’s liking. He takes immediate action and pulls her out of the blankets.

Immediately, he keeps her body from curling in on itself so her chest is open and can get air easier. Oscar manages to find a lamp switch. She’s a wreck. So incredibly broken that Lando doesn’t know where to start.

“Breathe.” Is all he can come up with. "It's okay, you can rest. We've got you. Just Breathe."

Somehow he coax’s her to sleep. Him and Oscar combined manage to get her to bed, wrestle her shoes off, and bandage what they could see without removing clothing.

Oscar practically forces Lando into the be with her and he takes the floor. He’d said he’d take the floor with him, but Oscar claimed that Lando is the lighter sleeper and would know if she moved at all. Curse his soulmate and his logical thinking.

She manages to sleep until five in the morning. This time she just cries and huddles closer into Lando.

“I’m sorry you have to see me in such a state… I didn’t know you were stopping by.”

Lando maneuvers then int a sitting position. He then takes a pillow and throw it at his lover on the floor. Oscar stirs and groans.

“Must you.”

“Yes, It’s funny.”

Oscar makes his way up onto the bed and looks immediately like he’s going to fall asleep. Lando consequently throws another pillow at him.

“You should know something…” Lando starts. He doesn’t finish because the word are not doing what he needs them to. They jumble on his head and he can’t figure out where to start.

He’s entirely to grateful for Oscars presence. “Max thinks that the three of us are soulmates.”

Lando was thinking it would be like the first. Realization followed by smiles and laughs. This is not that. Instead it’s panic. She defends into the depths of her mind as she studies the match scars, even revealing her own identical one.

The pain, embarrassment and shame are written all over her features. She’s mumbling through some kind of an apology.

“Breathe.” He repeats. He says it over and over again until it’s all her own mind can hear.

Oscar looks gutted and lost. He’d helped Lando through many panic attacks, but this is completely different.

“I didn’t think I would ever find you. The doctors had tried to cut me off because it was a mistake since there were two. They said I wasn’t supposed to have one.”

Are the two boys shocked? A tad. Why would a doctor do that?

Lando doesn’t get time to ask as she pulls out a bottle of medication from the drawer in the nightstand. It’s stuff he’s heard of, but never actually seen. “This has been suppressed to sever the connection, but it hasn’t worked. They said to take it in higher doses at smaller intervals until it stops.”

She pops open the lid and pours a couple into her hands. Thank goodness for quick reflexes because Lando goes to get the ones in her hands, and Oscar goes for the bottle. She's too focused on Lando to notice the Aussie who manages to swipe it from her.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"Didn't feel relevant."

"But this is incredibly dangerous! I've heard most people who do it end up -" Oh. It dawns on him why she's doing this to herself. The connection between them was already rough for her. She had been trying to 'fix' it like her doctors said. Had been told her entire life that the people who are fated to lover her unconditionally won't because she is nothing to them.

"How long have you been taking the meds?" Oscar's voice is so careful. The Brit would love to swoon, but it feels impolite at the moment.

"Years. They've tried everything. Put me on different kinds and change the dosage."

"Thirteen?" Lando whisper asks. His voice was barely audible. The small nod from the female confirms it. That's when the first scars arrived.

Lando places his hands on either side of her teary face. "You are not a mistake. You have never been a mistake. We've been aching for you. Scared maybe one day there wouldn't be any more marks and the implications of it. I've wanted nothing more than to tell you for years that you are loved and wanted."

He didn't even notice his own tears. Everything is just so overwhelming at the moment. They came so unexpectedly that it almost startled him. Screw Oscar and his ability to be amazing emotional support. The hand on Lando's knee is the only thing keeping him grounded.

They don't let her go until Max comes to get her. She's flying to do some filming with him. Neither of the males want to let her go, so they don’t. They end up flying with her since McLaren hasn’t filled their schedules.

But then they don’t leave. They spend every moment possible reminding her she is loved. That they want her. That nothing between them is a mistake.

Soon the scars start to fade.

But have no fear, Lando is clumsy enough to make up for it.

#x reader #fanficion #formula one #f1 fic #formula 1 #racing #f1 fanfic #lando norris #mclaren formula 1 #mclaren racing #lando norris x reader #f1 #lando norris f1 #lando norris x y/n #lando norris 4 #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #landoscar #oscar jack piastri #oscar piastri 81 #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x lando norris #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri f1 #lando norris x oscar piastri #mclaren #mclaren lando norris #op81 imagine

[dyns33]

The Scar

Another Miguel O Hara x female reader, with suspense !

Miguel had been acting weird for several weeks.

Ever since he had returned early from his seminar. In the middle of the night, he'd slipped into bed and kissed her like he hadn't seen her in forever.

It didn't bother Y/N. It had been a while since Miguel really touched her, according to him too tired from his work.

He had apologized that night, saying that he missed her, that he had asked to change his hours to spend more time with her, before repeating again and again that he loved her.

It was adorable, but it was also a bit weird.

There was something different about him, and Y/N couldn't figure out what.

The idea that he was cheating on her came quickly. Miguel was acting like a man who clearly had something to be ashamed of. Something bad.

Of course, all women would have been delighted to have their husbands look at them as he looked at her now. That their husbands come home early to cook dinner, give them a massage, listen to how their day went, kiss them passionately while whispering words of love in Spanish.

But it was really not in Miguel's habits.

Even at the start of their relationship, he had never really been romantic. Y/N remembered him telling her that it made sense for them to be together when they graduated, since they were both brilliant.

She liked to believe that he had loved her, at one point, then the routine had set in, and they had stayed together because it was easier.

All these gifts and kisses, it was really not normal.

It didn't take Y/N long to suspect that Miguel was having an affair with his colleague, Doctor Daniels. They had worked on a lot of projects, he talked about her often, and they went on business trips together.

She was beautiful, young and intelligent. Y/N didn't stand a chance against her.

Despite his promise to be here more often, there were always late nights when he came home. She imagined quickly that he was not always in the office, which she checked very quickly.

One evening, she woke up while he was getting dressed. He seemed embarrassed to see her in the hallway.

"Mi amor. Did I wake you up ? Forgive me, there was a problem in the office, a toxin leak, I have to go."

He kissed her so tenderly that Y/N wanted to cry watching him close the door.

A phone call to Alchemax was enough to know that there was no problem, and that nobody had called Miguel. Quickly checking, many of the dates and times were inconsistent with his schedule.

After pain and sorrow came anger. Knowing her husband well, Y/N knew there was no reason to stay and try to talk to him. So she took her things and went to stay in a hotel for the night.

She still wasn't asleep when someone knocked the next morning, and it was a surprise to see Miguel. Not only did he have no way of knowing where she was, she hadn't even thought he would be looking for her.

Visibly distraught, he took her in his arms as soon as she opened the door.

"Y/N ! Are you okay ? I came home and you were gone ! I was so scared, I thought… Why are you here ? Was there a problem Someone came to the house ? You…"

"There was no toxin leak."

"… What ?"

"There was no toxin leak in your office. Miguel, I know you're lying to me. I know you… I know you're cheating on me."

"What ?" he repeated again, looking as much annoyed as hurt. "No. Never ! I would never cheat on you, I love you ! I only love you."

"Please… I'm not stupid. You tell me you're going to work, and your office tells me you're not there. So where are you, uh ? What are you doing ? It's Why you've been so nice lately, so I don't get suspicious ? Because you're remorseful ? Because you're…"

"I'm Spiderman."

Y/N had heard of Spiderman, like everyone in Nueva York. A hero who could walk on the ceiling, and who fought crime.

Her first reaction was to laugh, then Miguel squirted a web from his handle that stuck a lamp to the wall and she agreed to listen.

He promised her that he had never cheated on her. He loved her more than anything, he would die for her, and he would never hurt her. The nights he was out and not working, he was saving lives. He hadn't told her, because he didn't want to worry her, or for her to take him for a monster.

"Okay, it's a bit special that you can pull stuff out of your arms and swing from building to building, but it's nothing monstrous."

"Actually… My DNA was altered on multiple levels, resulting in multiple physical changes."

"Is that why you look taller and more muscular ?"

"No. Yes ! I mean, a bit, but I'm not talking about that. It's… My teeth. My eyes, my hands, my legs…"

"I don't see anything weird with your eyes or your hands."

Since the beginning of their conversation, Miguel seemed really uncomfortable, but this moment was really the most complicated for him. His eyes were filled with fear as they turned red, he showed Y/N his sharp canines, and his fingernails turned into claws.

"…Wow. You look like a big cat."

"Amor, I don't look like a big cat." mumbled Miguel, blushing, lunging at her to tickle her when she tried to scratch his ear.

It could have ended there. Y/N would give everything for things to end there, because it was a very good explanation, Miguel loved her, he had promised her that there would be no more lies, and everything was fine.

A party organized by Alchemax and several glasses of champagne changed that, when Doctor Daniels approached with a strange smile, while Miguel had gone to the toilet.

"You and your husband look very happy."

"We are, thank you."

"Yeah. He didn't say that. We were happy too, you know ? The best years of my life. A real beast in bed, caliente. Then one day, nothing. He dumped me like trash. I guess he's found someone better. I thought it was nice to let you know."

"Mi amor ?"

Miguel watched her run away, not glancing at Doctor Daniels. He followed her easily, catching up with her in an alley and hugging her to calm her down, leaving her to hit him sobbing and screaming.

He hadn't heard what Doctor Daniels had said to put her in such a state, and when she repeated it to him, he seemed to go mad with rage. Because his honor was touched, but also because he couldn't bear to see Y/N cry.

"I'm going to kill her ! I've never had an affair with this woman, ever ! She's lying, she's crazy !"

"Don't lie to me." Y/N cried, still clinging to him.

"I swear to you, mi amor. Never. Not with her, not with anyone else."

In the following days, there were several elements that indicated that Miguel was telling the truth. First, there was no message exchanged between him and Doctor Daniels, despite the incessant assertions of the latter, who did not understand why she could not find them. No photo or video of them either.

At the office, no one thought they were more than co-workers who got along well. Miguel O Hara had the reputation of being a serious man, a little angry, selfish and focusing mainly on his research.

The only moment captured by Alchemax's surveillance cameras was when Doctor Daniels approached Miguel to ask him why they were no longer together, and if there was any chance they could see each other again.

Miguel remained cold, distant, politely asking her to leave him alone, repeating to her that there had never been anything between them, and that there never would be anything, because he only loved his wife.

This made Doctor Daniels laugh, who touched his arm, before trying to kiss him.

Jumping up from his chair, Miguel looked at her in disgust, forbidding her to approach him.

The incident trickled down to the bosses, which brought all the previous research and proved that Dr. Daniels had a little problem with her obsession with her colleague, who was not at all interested. She was fired.

This did not please her at all, and since she could not get her lover back, and had lost her job, Doctor Daniels insisted on destroying the married couple.

She called Y/N, texted her, followed her to work and home, telling her over and over that she'd shared Miguel's bed for years.

Maybe he never really liked her, because this guy was obviously not able to love anyone but himself, and he was too afraid for his reputation to admit it, but it was the truth.

"I can prove it !" cried Dr. Daniels hysterically, banging on Y/N's car window. "I know what he likes to eat ! I've driven his car before ! He told me about his brother."

"That's not evidence. Please leave me." Y/N begged her as she tried to start.

"He's got a scar on his back ! How do I know that, huh ? Miguel hates bathing, he doesn't undress in public, it's tiny because it was just a little fall from a horse when he was a kid. How do I know that ?!"

Y/N felt her heart race, as she tried to breathe normally, because indeed, Miguel had a scar, and hardly anyone knew about it. It was in the middle of his back, you could feel it by running your hand over his skin.

She then thought of two things.

Dr. Daniels wasn't lying.

And since his early return from his seminar and his change in behavior, she had passed her hand several times on her husband's back, without feeling this tiny scar.

In the middle of Miguel's back, there was nothing. Nothing at all.

Repeating this to herself, Y/N invited Dr. Daniels to come with her to the house, where Miguel was cooking dinner.

He was surprised to see them, and even more surprised when she calmly asked him to take off his shirt and show his back, while Daniels was screaming hysterically, ordering him to show them his scar and then confess.

He didn't look at the doctor once, his eyes fixed on Y/N, who was only looking at him as well. In his eyes, she could see that he understood why, why Daniels was asking this, but more importantly why Y/N was asking this. He knew that she knew.

Without saying anything, he obeyed and turned around. Dr. Daniels then stopped screaming, freezing.

The back was perfect, tall, muscular. In addition to the noticeable lack of a scar, Y/N noted that he was much taller and more muscular than before, before all of this.

"Well…" Miguel muttered as he got dressed. "Happy ? Excuse me, but I'm only showing the rest to my wife. If you could leave us now."

"I… I don't understand. You had a scar."

"I never had a scar. I never had a relationship with you."

"It's not… You… I think I need to sleep. Excuse me." stammered Doctor Daniels before quickly leaving, leaving them alone.

They stayed like that for a long time, face to face in the kitchen, neither moving nor speaking. Then Miguel sighed, visibly tired and sorry.

He hadn't lied. Not even once. He had simply omitted to say that he wasn't really Miguel, or at least not her Miguel, and that he wasn't the Spiderman of this universe, but of another.

He had seen an opportunity to be happy, after losing his Y/N, and now that her Miguel was gone. Her horrible Miguel, as he called him, who didn't see how lucky he was, who had never known how to treat her right, and who didn't deserve her.

"But I know." he whispered as he approached, shyly taking her hand. "I know I'm lucky to be with you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, the only one. I can't live without you. I thought… Maybe you'd be happier without him, that it would be a relief to hear of his passing. But I also thought I could give you all the things he should have given you. I can leave if you want. I love you."

For several weeks, Y/N had been very happy, showered with love and kisses. She had been afraid of being cheated on, but that was no longer the case, not with this Miguel, who loved her.

So she forgot that there had always been a small scar on her husband's back, and she kissed him, telling him that she loved him too.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara fanfiction #acros the spiderverse

[prolix-yuy]

Chapter 8: And I Was Reborn

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader “Sugar”

Summary: The only thing left is a question. And an answer.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: M, mention of nudity, allusions to sexual acts, mild body horror relating to being a host (not gory, but descriptive of seeing under the skin and a skull), sort of playing fast and loose with how the hosts work, was E in previous chapters so full series is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: After everything they've been through, it's come down to this. This is the penultimate chapter, with only the epilogue left, and one big question still left unanswered. I'll leave it to you to find out what that is, and what Sugar's answer will be.

Cross-posted on AO3

Decoherence Masterlist   ||   Whiskey & Westworld Masterlist

Morning slips into the bedroom like a lover, quiet and soft at your back. You blink awake slowly, eyes blurred as you acclimate. Cream-colored walls lend a stark difference from the blue quilt draped over you and Jack. You smile into your pillow, toes curling between the sheets.

True to his word, Russell didn’t come scratching and snuffling at the door until several hours after Jack locked him out. It was plenty of time for you to talk, wrapped in each other’s arms. Jack told you about traveling across the country looking for a home, working whatever drifter jobs he could get to pay his way. You asked why here, why this town, and he said it was the first one that felt anything like home. The people helped, and the slow discovery of who he was with free will did the rest. 

Jack in turn learned about you, the real you that he never truly got to meet. The things you like to do, the places that make you happy. It strikes you as a shorter list than you thought, the things you left in your small apartment barely taking up space in your heart. In this house, a rekindling has taken place and a warm fire now burns in your hearth, well tended. 

When Jack left to let Russell out, as bare as the day he was made, you laid back on the bed and contemplated the life Jack built. Years of grinding away at a job that kept you comfortable but unfulfilled paled in comparison to the muscle memory of a hard day’s work. Could you find happiness in taking up reins and helping the community around you? Or had you been so far gone from it that you’d make a mess of anything you touched?

Jack returned soon after, his nonchalant nudity heating your skin.

“I have dessert if you’d like something sweet,” Jack said, smirking a little at the end. 

“I’ll take anything you’re offering, handsome.”

It took another hour before you actually tasted the peach cobbler Jack made, sitting on his lap in nothing but a sheet wrapped around the two of you. He warmed the cobbler first before drenching it in cream, and the spiced sweetness tasted even better on his tongue. The last thing you remembered before drifting off back in his bed was the slow devotion of hands on your skin soothing you to sleep.

Now his head is thrown back on the pillow, lips slightly parted and eyes shut. You watch his profile bathed in morning light. The perfect curve between his nose and chin to fit your lips. The stretch of his neck to his chest rising and falling. One hand lays on his stomach, fingers curled in lazy artfulness. 

Do androids dream of electric sheep? you think briefly, reaching out to touch the strong line of his bicep. You trace from his shoulder to the dip by his elbow, baby hairs along your path standing up. Blue-green veins are barely visible by his wrists, the smooth expanse of his chest dotted with freckles. He’s imperfect, and that’s more amazing to you. Every bit of him unique, down to the spots around his chin where no stubble grows. You wouldn’t know him to be anything but real.

He is real, you scold yourself. Every part of him is real, and true. He just didn’t grow into his body the way you did. The scars that detail your history, the stretch marks, the bends and breaks of a body worn by time, yours is happenstance and circumstance. His is purposeful.

Your touch slides over to lay your hand over his. The rise and fall of his chest makes a soothing pattern with his heartbeat.

Rise

Ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum

Fall

Ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum

Jack’s hand flexes open, and you slide your fingers between. He pulls your joined hands to his lips and presses a kiss on your knuckles, a deep sigh precluding his head turning in the pillow.

“Morning Sugar. You sleep okay?”

You nod, scooting closer to him and pressing a kiss of your own to his shoulder.

“Best I’ve slept in weeks.” You’re not lying. Not an ominous dream in sight. 

“Me too,” Jack says, rolling to his side and pulling you into his embrace. His shoulders block out the harsher rays, a halo of light illuminating his fluffy bedhead. You run your fingers through it absently.

Not a hair on his head that wasn’t put there. Not a thing on him that wasn’t done on purpose. And not a single part of it looks manufactured. 

“You’re thinking awfully loud this early in the morning,” Jack says, stroking the small of your back. You consider what saying anything in this quiet moment could mean, but you both have come so far in just one weekend. It’s time for you to be as honest as he’s been.

“There’s still a part of me that tells me you can’t be a host. That you’re so perfectly imperfect that nature must have made you.” Stroking long paths through his dark locks, you worry at your lower lip. “Is that bad, that I can’t help but think it? You’ve proven it all to me several times over, it’s just…it’s still something hard to believe, I guess.” 

Jack’s eyes drift off, chewing the inside of his mouth before he sits up against the headboard. You come upright too, and he guides you between his bent legs. You let yours fold over his thighs, sitting face to face as he holds your hands in his.

“Does it make it harder, not seeing the machine?” he asks. You soothe him with your thumbs.

“I wish I could say it didn’t. Everyone suspends their disbelief in the parks, right? But we all know that it’s not real.” You study Jack’s face carefully. He’s not upset, or hurt. There’s something resolute in his expression. “I guess it does make it harder for me. I like to understand, and it’s hard not understanding how this all works.”

Jack nods, squeezing your hands tighter.

“What if I could show you exactly what’s at the center of me?”

His eyes stay locked on your face, and you realize he’s giving you something exceedingly precious. It’s not to be handled lightly.

“Maybe I should just have faith,” you acquiesce, smoothing your thumbs along his knuckles. He squeezes again to draw your attention.

“It’s okay,” Jack says, eyes soft. “I’ll show you.” He waits for your nod.

Settling himself against the headboard, he ticks his jaw and takes a few grounding breaths. The calm warmth of the morning becomes stifling, your palms sweaty as he holds one in his hand.

“What I’ve learned from all the manuals and the programs is that you can’t tell. You’re not supposed to. Everything’s realistic except for one thing. They never saw much use for making it look like a brain.” Jack presses his thumb into your palm. “Once it’s not in contact with me I’m gonna freeze up, Sugar, so put it back when you’re done.”

Your heart hammers in your throat. “Jack, what is it?”

Jack’s smile quirks up in the corner, but you also catch a thin veil of fear.

“Maeve called it a pearl. Made it sound valuable. Precious.” He holds your worried look, chucking a knuckle under your chin. 

Then his hand falls, and he changes.

Bloodless seams crawl across his face, his eyes going glassy. One splits his face down the center, drawn along the curve of his nose through the dimple in his lower lip. The corners of his lips extend up to his hair, slashing across his cheekbones. Another traces his jawline, the folds of his jowls. A series of small clicks and whirs precede the seams widening, and Jack’s face opens to reveal a smooth white skull beneath. No gore, like a mask peeled off in sections and pulled away for inspection by tiny armatures. Your stomach drops, nausea threatening your throat but you swallow hard. The eyeless skull smiles back at you before you notice another series of cracks, and the second layer breaks open. The skull separates into four quadrants, and from that fissure extends a cylinder presenting a smooth metallic ball. Prongs hold it tight against the protuberance, and you startle when Jack’s hand reaches in to pluck it from his mangled face. Thick fingers grasp the shiny surface as he guides the ball to your palm. 

It’s warm against your skin, sinking into the cup of your hand. You open your mouth to say something but the moment Jack’s hands leave the reflective surface every tiny motion stills. What was once solid flesh beneath your legs is hardened marble, not a tremble in his frame. Heart racing, tears well in your eyes as you study the fractured man who’s put his whole trust into the palm of your hand. 

“Jack?” you whisper, but nothing moves. The stillness roars in your ears, hands shaking with the pearl clutched between them. Cautiously, you let your fingertips roam the edges of his face, stomach rolling at the uncanniness of seeing something so human turned inside out. Your fingers are shaking, pressing against his chest for a heartbeat that’s eerily absent. He’s a statue, nude and serene.

Finally, you turn your attention back to the pearl in your hand. It’s hardly the size of an egg, black as obsidian and smooth. Your reflection warps back up at you, parted lips quivering as you study it. This must be what makes Jack work. This sphere holds his memories, his quirks and tells, and even though saying it out loud would make it cliche, his soul. 

To Delos, searching for their rogue host that’s become troublingly sentient, it’s probably worth millions. But to you, it is infinitely precious. You will never be shown trust this deep, this endless, by anyone else in your lifetime. Jack willingly put his life in the palm of your hand. What could you possibly do to show him that trust, that faith, that love in return?

It comes to you in another breath. Oh Jack. He’s given you exactly what you need to prove it to him. Leaning down, you bring your cupped hands to your lips and press a kiss to the pearl. He’ll never know, never see this moment, but you’ll know that your devotion is etched on his soul. Letting your lips brush it once more, you whisper.

“I’ll always hold it, Jack.”

Just as he did, you place the pearl into its delicate cage, watching with fascination as it retracts back into Jack’s head. The pieces of his skull pull together, and slowly he becomes the man you love once more. When the final piece clasps shut and Jack blinks, you throw yourself into his arms, straddling him breathlessly. His hands come up to soothe along your back, inhaling your scent as you fight back tears.

“Feels like it took a little while, did you drop it?” Jack tries to joke, the rumble of his chest soothing after feeling it so still. When you don’t move he pulls you in tighter, pressing kisses by your ear.

“Was it too much? Sorry, I should have…” he starts to say, but you silence him with your lips. He lets you lead, gripping his face and tilting his head back to inhale him. He reassures you between devotions with murmurs of “I’m here, Sugar. I’m right here.” When he guides you to your back, tangled in sheets and legs until you’re not sure where you end and he begins, he whispers, “I’m here.” And when he sheaths inside you, cradling you against him he groans, “Here, right here.” 

Beneath your hands he’s pulsing, gasping, trembling. Alive. Jack. Your Jack. Always.

When you finally untangle, sated and drained, Jack lets you make breakfast. Fresh eggs and toast, a crumble of bacon for Russell before you serve yourselves. Across the table Jack still manages to touch you, foot pressed inside your ankle reassuringly. 

It’s so easy to imagine this as any morning. Maybe you’d follow it with chores, prepare for the week ahead. Outdoor work until the sun is too hot, making plans around cold drinks in the evening. Every night a heartbeat under your hand. 

“Still thinking loud, Sugar,” Jack interrupts, his crooked smile playful but you glimpse trepidation in his brow. It’s Sunday after all, and with that comes the “real world” you both alluded to all weekend. Pushing around the last remnants of eggs, you contemplate.

“I’d like to take a walk around, clear my head a bit,” you say, letting Jack’s nod reassure you.

“Maybe let Russ out, he’s been cooped up all night and we haven’t been paying a lick of attention to him,” he says, scritching the terrier behind his ears. You rise and lead a doting Russell to the front door, Jack lingering in the kitchen. Throwing him a smile over your shoulder, sunlight greets you on the patio.

Russell bounds out and off to run a few circles in the yard, a blur of white and brown. Your feet take you aimlessly, thoughts clouding your vision.

Before you left, you knew it was possible that seeing Jack would change things. You prepared for a conversation about what might happen when the weekend ended. There were possibilities lined up neatly for scrutiny. You could stay in touch, visit each other. The care you felt would have time and distance to grow. Then, when you knew each other better, you could take that next step and meld your lives together. Most likely something closer to what you live now, allowing you to straddle the line between the “real world” and Jack’s new and improved Sweetwater. It all sounded feasible, rational, reasonable.

Looking up, you realize your restless feet took you back to the barn, and right up to Daybreak’s stall. She lifts her nose over the gate, knocking you in the shoulder playfully before allowing you to stroke her snout. The sharp scent of horse fills your lungs, tamped with sweet grass and hay. When you scratch along her muzzle she snorts, whuffling at your pockets for treats. 

“Sorry girl, next time,” you promise. 

That’s when you realize how easily next time came to you, and how soon it felt. Not next time as in six months from now. Or three months. In your heart, now truly open, you know what your answer will be to the unspoken question hanging over your visit. Pressing your forehead to Daybreak’s, you smooth your hands along her graceful neck.

“Thanks, girl,” you murmur, her soft huff a comfort.

Jack is standing on his porch when you exit the barn, trying his best to look nonchalant but his tells are all on display. Hand on his hip, fingers clenching too tight. Jaw ticking back and forth. The smile he gives you fighting to reach his eyes. You mount the steps and slide an arm around his waist, reveling in the relief of his embrace. For a long minute he just holds you, your head on his chest to listen to his stilted breaths. Finally he pulls back, eyes shining.

“I’m…so glad you came,” he manages to get out, rubbing his hands firmly up and down your arms. It clenches your heart, watching him struggle. You open your mouth but he motions for a moment more.

“I know we didn’t start off quite the way either of us hoped, but now, with everything out in the open and all that you’ve seen, I hope you’ll consider my proposition.” A smile tugs at your lips but Jack’s railroading mouth keeps you grounded. 

“I know there’s a big world out there for you, and you’ve got a place in it. And here’s just a small slice of life that most people never even think about. But it’s mine, and I…I want you to know it’s mine to give. To you. You can have as much of it as you want. Because…” Here Jack takes in a breath, and you take his face in your hands. “Because I can’t go with you. I tried a few times, but I kept having close calls and near misses of being found. Just coming to see you was a risk, one I’d gladly take a thousand times over, but I can’t live like that. It’s here or someplace like it, and I wouldn’t ask for you to give up everything…”

“Jack,” you interrupt, tilting his gaze back to yours. Stroking your thumbs down his five o’clock shadow, you let him know exactly what you’ve already decided.

“I’m not going back.”

His face contorts in confusion, then dismissal.

“Sugar, you can’t…” You press a thumb against his soft lips, mustache tickling the tip.

“I’ve been waiting for something to tell me I made the right choice, and that all the pain was worth it. This is it. You are my choice. This, everything, is my choice. I’m going home to pack, get everything sorted, then I’ll come back.” Your throat closes up, but you manage to eke out the last words you need to say. “Then I’ll come home, if you’ll have me.”

Jack’s hug is bruising, all-encompassing and breathtaking. 

“Sugar, my god, yes, we’ll have you, I want you.” You choke out a laugh into his shoulder, dizzy with the lack of oxygen and the elation of Jack’s embrace. He spins you around, Russell’s faint yips on the edge of your consciousness. When he releases you there’s a moment to take in a breath before Jack’s mouth slots against yours and steals your air again. He cradles your cheeks, pulling away just enough to look at you with wonder before stealing another. The sun feels like it’s at a whole different position in the sky before he relents, tucking you into his chest and letting an enormous sigh empty out. 

“I’m sorry it won’t be an easy life with me,” he says, fingertips light on your skin.

“Did I ask for easy?” you tease, inhaling the soap, sweat and sun-baked scent of Jack. “Whatever might come, it’s worth it.”

“I’ll spend my life making sure of that, Sugar.”

PREVIOUS || NEXT

#jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x female reader #jack whiskey daniels x reader #jack whiskey daniels x you #jack whiskey daniels x female reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x female reader #jack daniels x f!reader #jack whiskey daniels x f!reader #agent whiskey x f!reader #kingsman the golden circle fanfiction #westworld fanfiction #prolix fics

[33max]

Would little Maxy be afraid of Daniel' scar on his hand? 🥺 we need a prompt on this one ....

He wouldn’t be scared of it, but he does get a very 🥺 look on his face every time he sees it! Daniel has assured him it’s fine, that he’s healing, that the scar is getting less and less visible…

“Hurt?” Max asks. He asks this a lot, several times a day, always when Daniel’s scar is a little more noticeable. Like when he runs Max a bath and swirls the water with his left hand.

“Nope,” Daniel says, booping Max on the nose with his index finger. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“Kiss?”

Daniel gives him a kiss on the cheek. A loud mwah.

“No,” Max giggles, “I kiss the hand?”

And Daniel holds his hand out for Max to gently give a kissy too! ♥️

#answered #anonymous #turkey dinosaurs au

[cabinboy100]

1899: 1x08: "The Key": Prometheus Roll Call

Beware: Season 1 spoilers! If you have not watched all eight episodes of 1899 season 1 on Netflix, get thee to your streaming device and watch! Then come back for a quick review with some visual aids for episode 8. =)

This will be a review of the basic layout and head count in the closing scene of the finale. We see Maura wake up in a vertical sleep pod set into the wall of a cylindrical chamber. Her hair is shorn compared to her 1899 simulation 'do and she is dressed in a grey jumpsuit of the type that we saw her and Daniel wearing in Elliot's recovered memory.

Once she steps out of her pod, she takes in her surroundings. There are 16 sarcophagi in the cylindrical chamber. They are in four groups of four against the wall, separated by sections of wall with portholes. She begins with the group that includes her own now-empty pod and examines the room from left to right, or clockwise, as viewed from the top looking down.

ROLL CALL.

Block 1 (Maura's).

Virginia Wilson

Eyk Larsen

Maura Henriette Franklin Singleton (empty)

Krester

When she recognizes Eyk (sans shock of white in his beard), she is visibly surprised, even taking a few steps backward. Understandable, as the last time she saw him, his First Mate had shut him down and told her it would be "impossible" to bring him back. Still, I have to wonder if something else might be behind her reaction. In any case, she then looks down at her left hand and considers the wedding band on her ring finger for a second or three. Why at that moment? Because Eyk is her husband? Or because she must remind herself that she is married to Daniel?

When she looks back up from the ring, she turns her gaze directly on Krester, whose face is not scarred. Could it be Krester to whom she's married? Watch those seconds again, from Maura turning from the ring to Krester. It's as if she knows whose face she will see next.

Block 2.

Tove

Olek

Ling Yi

Yuk Je

Tove's sarcophagus does not appear to be any different in shape compared to everyone else's, but it's possible that its design might accommodate a pregnant woman without any outward sign or difference. Difficult to say, which means that Tove *might* be pregnant, but is not obviously so.

Block 3.

Iben

Anker

Angel

Ramiro

Block 4.

??? (empty)

Jérome

Clémence

Lucien

2099 PROMETHEUS MATH.

There do not appear to be any doors set into the wall. Once we get an exterior view, that makes sense. The chamber is one of several cylinders attached by their "floors" to a larger wide octagonal boxy base structure, ten of which are connected to one another in an oval ring revolving around the central axis of Spaceship Prometheus. There does not appear to be any inhabitable space directly above the chamber. I think this means that the only egress from the chamber, that doesn't lead to the vacuum of space, must be set into the floor, behind/in the middle of the ring of consoles and cables in the center of the room.

When we get a side view of the spacecraft, stem to stern, we see that there are two rings of ten octagonal boxes, and each of those boxes actually appears to be two conjoined blocks, and each of those blocks has eight cylindrical sleep chambers attached, four above and four below. Let's assume all the chambers have sixteen sarcophagi. If every pod holds a person, the ship carries 2 x 10 x 2 x 8 x 16 = 5120 people in hibernation.

The 2099 Prometheus readout tells us there are 1423 passengers and 550 crew, giving a total of 1973 people. Yikes. That's less than half capacity. Have we seen this scenario before…?

CAP: We're carrying barely any freight. Just like the Prometheus. Our cabins aren't fully occupied either. The company travels this route w/o making any profit.

OLEK: The bunkers are half loaded. Two are almost empty.

CAP: Am I mad? I know this ship inside out. This is not supposed to be here.

CAP: This is impossible. We're on a ship. How does a whole landscape fit inside a ship? MAURA: This isn't the only one.

CAP: It's as if all of this is somehow part of the ship…

If there hasn't been a catastrophic malfunction or accident on the 2099 Prometheus before Maura wakes, this *does* sound similar to the state of the 1899 Prometheus and Kerberos, launched with many fewer passengers and much less freight and supplies than capacity. And how was all that supposedly empty space used? It housed the backstory worlds of the passengers and crew. Does a similar traumatic funhouse await Maura and company in "2099"? Is this one virtual as well? Or—wishing/reaching—could it possibly be Westworld-ly physical?

WHO'S MISSING?

Everything we've seen and heard so far tells me that that empty berth must have been Ciaran's. Does Ciaran wear the face of someone we've already met in the simulation? Who of the 1899 Kerberos passengers and crew Maura interacted with is conspicuously absent in this chamber?

Daniel (Is he real? =)

First Mate Sebastian

Franz

Ada

Elliot (Is he on the passenger list of the 1899 Prometheus?)

Other travelers with whom Maura did not directly interact…

Garlic Necklace (aka Furnace Mulder)

Werewolf skeptic (aka Furnace Scully)

Mustached Adam Driver Crewman

COUPLED 2099ers?

Did the 2099 Prometheus assign paired/adjacent sarcophagi for couples and family who booked together?  The placement of the sleepers in Maura's chamber does seem to support the idea (for me, at least =).

Eyk is beside Maura. (Of course =)

Maura is beside Krester. (I mention it because of that post-ring-gazing look.)

Olek is beside Ling Yi.

Iben is beside Anker.

Angel is beside Ramiro.

Jerome is beside Clemence is beside Lucien. (Interrrresting…)

Mystery Sleeper (Ciaran?) is beside Jerome

Have to say, I'm a little disappointed that Franz was not asleep next to Tove. =)

Just wanted to get this info Out There in this post. Will save follow-up theorizing on the identity and whereabouts of the mystery sleeper for future posts, hopefully.

Wake up 🜃

Keep on keepin’ on~

#1899 #1899netflix #1899 theories #1899 spoilers #theory #spoilers #2099 #Prometheus #Ramiro #Clemence #Angel #Lucien #Jerome #Eyk #Maura #Maura Franklin #Ling Yi #Olek #Yuk Je #Virginia #Virginia Wilson #Daniel #Daniel Solace #Krester #Tove #Iben #Anker

[apoptoses]

Chapter 7/10

In life Daniel had snored. Softly when he was sober: the quiet inhale and exhale of his breath punctuated with the rasping sound that came from his crooked nasal passage. He’d broken his nose- when, Armand didn’t know- and it had healed with a slight curve to the left. Charming to look at. Hideous to listen to when he was drunk and his misplaced septum joined with his constricted soft palate to create a jagged sound even Armand couldn’t tune out. In life he had been so loud even in his sleep.

In death he was silent. Even dozing off for a nap stopped his breath entirely.

Armand laid there, restless. He touched his palm to Daniel’s chest and felt his beating heart. Shifted to sit up beside him so that he could take a good look at his sleeping face. Young and full of blood, there were some things even immortality couldn’t erase.

Armand touched the scar on his lower lip, tracing back and forth. Curious not to feel his breath on his finger or see him twitch in his sleep at his touch. His finger moved upwards to connect the faint freckles on the bridge of his nose and circle around the birthmark at his temple. Armand followed the near invisible lines that bracketed his mouth; worn into his skin from smoking and smiling and laughing at the bizarre things Armand had done in his presence.

All of them faint, visible only to immortal eyes. All of them growing fainter as the years passed and immortality wiped Daniel’s features smooth. Armand’s breath caught in his chest at the thought.

His fingers itched, down in the bone. Something had broken free in him. Daniel overwhelmed him and erased the shame he’d carried for centuries and now-

It was as if he could do anything.

Armand picked up his phone and took a photo of Daniel’s sleeping face. Then slipped out of bed, pulled on one of Daniel’s worn t-shirts and a pair of his boxers. Quiet as he could he snuck out of the room.

[AO3]

#armand/daniel #armand #daniel molloy #the devil's minion #vampire chronicles #vc fic #apoptoses fic #blood sanation

[yuuniee]

Name: Daniel Jett Sterling

Japanese: ダニエル・ジェット・スターリング (danieru jetto sutaaringu)

Dorm: Octavinelle

Birthday: 24th April (Taurus)

Age: 18

Height: 193 cm

Dominant Hand: Right

Homeland: Coral Sea

Family: Unnamed mother, unnamed father, unnamed younger sisters, unnamed older sister, unnamed older brothers

Voiced by: Wataru Hatano

Nicknames/Aliases: Monsieur Remixer (Rook), “DJ Shining Aura” (his dj name), Danny (his mother), Dan (his friends)

Grade: Junior

Class: 3-E (no. 19)

Club: Track and Field Club

Best Subject: Culinary Arts

Hobby: Ice skating

Pet Peeves: Smacking mouth

Favorite Food: Cheeseburger

Least Favorite Food: Anything bland

Talent: Remixing songs

Appearence: Daniel is a young gentleman with black messy wolf cut hair, slanted blue eyes, muscular build and dark skin.

In his school uniform, he wears a loose hooded jacket, white shirt, pants with gold stripes on each side and a pair of grey sneakers. He doesn’t wear his armband, but his hooded jacket has an Octavinelle patch on the left.

In his dorm uniform, he wears the standard Octavinelle dorm uniform without the hat, jacket and scarf. He also puts his hair in a ponytail and wears a lip piercing.

In his merform, his skin is dark green and his lower half basically looks like a sea turtle’s. He also has a scar on his chest.

Personality: He is actually really calm and doesn’t get worked up about things unless something really gets under his skin. Your generally chill bro! :D

Jokes aside, there are moments where he gets a bit cocky and teases others when they are in trouble. Definitely not the type to scold them though!

———

- Unique Magic: “Protecting Shell” -

It allows Daniel to create a strong shield around him and those who are close to him. The shield lasts longer if there are less people. So, the more people around him, the more shields he has to create and the more magic he has to consume and therefore more blot he eventually accumulates.

The picrew that I made this is sadly deleted... :(

———

[x]

———

His merform 😊

———

Fun Facts:

He works as a DJ in a club and often streams it in Magicam.

He is a sea turtle merman.

He donates most of the money he gains in either orphanages, nursing homes or charities.

He is childhood friends with Coral since they were very young and he was the one who encouraged her to pursue her dream of becoming a songstress.

When he is in his merform, he spends most of his time either swimming in the ocean or polishing his shell.

He often grows his own vegetables in his garden, but he doesn’t mind buying some from a grocery store.

He has a piercing on his right eyebrow, nose and both of his ears though he doesn’t wear too much of them in his dorm uniform and formal occasions.

He has misophonia, hence why he hates the mouth smacking. (You can visibly see his eye twitching when he hears someone smacking their mouth!)

He likes swimming in the currents and lets the waves take him to different parts of the ocean. Wherever he goes, he always finds his way back.. eventually. He says it makes him feel free.

He often struggles to find his siblings’ names and he feels embarrassed for it because his older siblings often tease him for it.

He stays in the same room as Fawn.

In his Swim Wear story, he gets asked about the scar on his chest. Although he refuses to tell Ace and Renée why, he later reveals that he was born with his heart outside of his chest and that he had a surgery at a young age that left the permanent scar on there.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #disney twst #twst wonderland #ツイステ #octavinelle oc #Daniel Jett Sterling

[chuthulhu-reads]

[ID: Two panels from Trigun Maximum. Vash and Wolfwood are both dressed very casually. Wolfwood seems to be wearing light-coloured slacks, a black turtleneck, and his sunglasses. Vash is wearing a hoodie, jeans, and he has no gloves on so some of the scars on his right hand and forearm are visible. He also has his hair down, making him look incredibly like Just Some Guy. In the first panel, Wolfwood is looking at Vash as Vash holds out his hand. In the second, they high-five and fistbump with serious expressions. End ID]

I am thinking of that scene in Nope where the main cast have formed an alien-fightin' plan and Daniel Kaluuya and Keke Palmer's characters share several of the most intense and forceful high-fives I've ever seen in quick succession because it's the only way for them to express the overwhelming amount of "LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOO" they're feeling

#Trigun #intrusive thought: Vash kinda has yaoi hands in that first panel #maybe the perspective is just bad but #his hand looks bigger than his head #and wolfwood's head

[bardicbeetle]

sitd (oops the sequel maybe) snips - in what is left unsaid

Isaac is coming home from Carrie’s apartment when it happens.

He’s been expecting it.

Some part of him, somewhere, holding its breath.

Alex is staring up at the Lamplight sign, which has been out for at least an hour now. There’s still other streetlights of course, enough to see that they look… good. Healthy. Relaxed even. They aren’t holding onto their own arms like they’re afraid to let go. Their hair is pulled up somewhat haphazardly, a lot of it is spilling out of the “bun” it’s held in. They—

“Isaac.”

That ragged quality that had seeped into their voice the last time Isaac saw them is gone. Their eyes are grey and sharp and carry none of the haze and glassiness of the last few months.

Breathe.

“You should go.” Is what he says, and can almost make himself believe it.

Isaac had been half-hoping to hear from Daniel for weeks now, he didn’t know why, maybe just deluding himself into thinking these were people he was dealing with. People. With feelings and thoughts and the capability to reach out when—

He mostly knows better.

It’s hard.

Looking at Alex—who isn’t dying anymore, that much is obvious—and seeing more life than he’d seen in them since… well, since ever probably. Or at least since that day in the church. Since watching their cheeks go warm and red with his own blood.

“Can we talk?” Their gaze is lingering on his neck, on the scar he knows is even more visible under the warm orange streetlights. It’s still easy to recall raising his fingers to mutilated flesh, running wet and hot while he bled out on his own floor. Just like dad. Worse still is the ease with which he remembers Daniel’s blood. A debt Isaac can only hope was repaid the night he was called to the house.

“I don’t think—”

“—Please,” Alex reaches out to take his hand and he flinches back, eyes dropping to the ground, not fast enough to miss the flash of hurt. They draw back, wrapping that hand around the lamp and continuing: “Right. Fine. I just thought— it’s less dangerous now than—” They stop abruptly, reaching out again—slower this time—and pulling Isaac’s hand to their chest.

He tries not to think that they actually feel warm now.

They had felt so cold towards the end.

“—for what it’s worth.”

Isaac doesn’t answer. Doesn’t quite, understand, for a moment.

Then he feels it. The rythmic pulse of blood, of life thrumming under his hand.

This time when he jolts back it’s truly involuntary, as is the disgust that curls across his face. He can’t help it. It’s sick. It’s playing at being alive to hide predator from prey. It’s—

He makes the mistake of looking Alex in the eyes again.

What is he supposed to say?

This was supposed to be over.

It was supposed to end the second Alex took that first life.

Why is he still standing here?

Why hasn’t he told them to leave again?

“For what it’s worth,” Isaac echoes, fingers closing on the door to the shop. He’s deliberately looking away now, keeping his back turned. “I’m glad you’re alive, Alex.”

Breathe.

Unlock the door.

Walk away.

He half expects Alex to stop him when he steps inside. To feel them pull him back.

It doesn’t come.

The door closes.

Breathe.

It’s done. It’s done.

@cjjameswriting / @falling-rivers / @maabonwrites / @blve0 / @inexorableblob / @blueberrypoptart / @betwixtofficial / @drowsy-quill / @ezwriting / @ofinscriptions / @vaguelyhumanekid / @meatandboneasmr / @h-faith-marr-writeblr / @necros-writings / @poetinprose / @flyingbananasaur / @oldestenemy / @multi-lefaiye / @dotr-rose-love / @abalonetea / @albatris

#writeblr #writeblr community #vampire writeblr #amwriting #writers on tumblr #lsdente #sitdsnips #safe in the dark #sitd #face the finish line (final drafts) #character ref ab #character ref ir #honey and blood and the things we ignore

[gender0bender]

Descriptions of current and former steelworker lesbians interviewed for the book Steel closets : voices of gay, lesbian, and transgender steelworker by Anne Belay, available on the Internet Archive

Transcript:

Erin, interviewed in January 2010. A bit sloping in the shoulders and tentative in her demeanor. She wore an embroidered V-neck sweater. Probably in her early fifties.

Fern, interviewed on January 29, 2010. She was a slim Asian woman with short, spiked hair and a ready, flirtatious smile. Though tiny, she had a butch swag- ger to her walk and told stories revealing an intense pride in her work. I would guess she was in her mid-thirties.

Gail, interviewed on January 25, 2010. She is a short, stocky woman with neat gray hair. She wore blue jeans and a denim shirt advertising ISG (International Steel Group, the former owner of her mill). She had a warm smile and laughing eyes, and loved to tell stories. She was about sixty.

Harriet, interviewed on April 10, 2010. She is mixed Indian and Mexican, and very butch. She had black, feathered hair, and seemed to be in her late forties. Her boots and leather jacket had many zippers.

Isabel, interviewed in June 2010. Younger (mid-twenties) than most of the nar- rators, with a presentation somewhere between hipster and goth. She was skinny, with hair partly black and partly hot pink. Clearly not comfortable in Northwest Indiana, she fantasized about moving elsewhere.

23. Wanda, interviewed on January 26, 2011. She wore a scrupulously butch tie, sweater, and hat, along with a Bluetooth. She was a dark-complected black woman with no visible hair. Her handshake and manner of sitting established butch domi- nance immediately, as did her sideways, knowing smile. I would guess she was in her mid to late thirties.

Xena, interviewed January 31, 2011, at her home. She wore a Steelers jersey over a thermal shirt and smoked constantly. She had a dry sense of humor and a butch presentation. She had iron gray hair. Probably in her mid-forties.

Carmen, interviewed in March 2011. In her fifties, she is a black woman with dreadlocks, who has some scarring from a burn accident at the mill. She was very reserved and held her lower jaw tensely.

Danielle, interviewed on April 25, 2011. She is a big woman, with long, straight, almost stringy hair. She wore glasses and dressed casually but with lots of makeup.

Janis, interviewed July 20, 2011, at a restaurant. She wore the jacket of union electrical workers and identified as a strong union supporter. Blonde and fit, in her fifties, she had a lively demeanor, but she refused to be recorded.

Kate, interviewed in August 2011, at a bar. Relaxed and funny, she loved to talk and was full of stories about the area, the mill, family, and life. She carried herself with confidence and had a physical presence. She had medium-length gray-blonde hair.

Lupe, interviewed September 18, 2011, at a bar. She was fairly boxy in build, with short black hair and butch mannerisms. Though she was in her mid-forties, there was something very boyish and innocent about her.

Marie, interviewed October 19, 2011, at a coffee shop in Pittsburgh. She was an older woman, many years beyond the steel mill, which showed in her body and demeanor. She had medium length hair, wore jewelry and a blazer, and was prob- ably in her sixties. When she discussed her life as a steelworker, memories began to flood back, and a butch attitude accompanied them.

#lgbt #steelworkers #lgbt writing #lesbian writing #lesbians #working class lesbians #steel closets #my uploads

[spotsandsocks]

Seven Sentence Sunday

Thank you for tagging me @rogerzsteven @monsterrae1 @buddierights @shortsighted-owl I’ve spent most of my time on the two Christmas gift fics but they’re done and I’ve spent today fighting with this fic (epilogue for alone with thoughts) and this section in particular. If this bit actually reads ok on my editing might get it out tomorrow!

Bringing up the day he died with Maddie is going to upset her, add Daniel to the mix well, it’s not something he wants to rush.

He never meant to but he’s added another scar to Eddie and Maddie’s battered hearts.

His scar is only physical, just another mark he’s put on his body, it’s fresh and pink but it’s already fading. It doesn’t hurt too much now.

Eddie and Maddie’s scars aren’t as visible as his but he sees them, in the way Eddie holds onto his hand a little too tightly sometimes, how his eyes skate over the scar. Eddie can’t seem to look at it for too long. He knows why, he feels the same about the scar on Eddie’s shoulder. A reminder of how easy it could be to lose someone you love.

Tagging to share their words to make our Sunday brighter @elvensorceress @jacksadventuresinwriting @sibylsleaves @fleurdebeton @hetrez @the-likesofus @lostinabuddiehaze @ajunerose @bekkachaos @dickley-buddie @megslovesbooks @fiona-fififi

#seven sentece sunday #buddie wip

[enkisstories]

That night Black Spire experienced something like a mini invasion.

In theory the presence of Markus and his squad should have been cause for joy - it meant that Rey Palpatine had managed to slip through Agnon's blockade and returned to Batuu. But in practise Rey's personal guard was still looking, walking and often also still talking like the nextbest stormtrooper.

North: "Simon...?"

Simon: "Coming."

Martin: "Maybe if someone gave Lord Daniel had a nice, visible scar, Simon would be less anxious about looking exactly like him in public. Not suggesting anything, of course..."

Simon's face, it turned out, should have been the least of his worries.

So briefly after the liberation war, the presence of eight stormtroopers, no matter how informal they presented themselves, was sufficient to empty the cantina. The wounds caused during the occupation war might have closed, but the scars caused by them were still itching...

Meanwhile the real Daniel was staying at Savi's lightsaber workshop overnight. In the morning the tinkerer helped him to re-fit his lightsaber with the blue crystal Plum had found on Ryloth.

#BatuuGameplay #sims4journeytobatuu #star wars #simblr #newstarwarssims #battleforbatuu7

[kim-poce]

Punishment for Thievery

Thank you @boonasaurusrex for the commission!

CW: kidnapping, torture, hand whump, gore, multiple whumpees.

Daniel was nervous, afraid even, which —he didn’t want to admit— hurt his pride quite a bit. It wouldn’t be his first nor second robbery. Everything would go just fine. He only needed to take a deep breath and do it.

There were no walls around the house, but several large trees made it hard for the neighbors to see what was happening there. Only one man lives in the small house, and his routine is strictly the same every day. Daniel knows that, he has been watching for a month already (much longer than usual, and even so he still couldn’t shake the nervousness away.)

Well, it was bad business to wait this long to rob a single house. The night fell and the man left for work in the same exact minute as always, Daniel was in awe with the amount of punctuality that person was able to perform.

The man got in the car and drove away. Daniel would get inside, take everything that was worth some cash, and be gone long before the man’s return. The first thing Daniel took away was the hidden camera he had left in one of the trees. He deleted all the clips of that house, no need to have proof laying around.

Door password: 7246

And he is in!

Now, he was quite more attentive than usual in this house, partly because of the nervousness, and partly because in a month of observing he could not look inside for more than a couple seconds whenever the owner got in or out. The windows were always closed, with dark curtains that allowed no natural light inside. The second the front door closed it was pitch black.

Flashlight on and in a couple seconds the light switch was found and the lights were on. The house was —as he knew— full of trinkets, the man brought such things really really often, he believes his money goes to: food, house bills, trinkets. Some cheap, some worth the trouble of stealing. The house was neat and spotless, everything was well lined up, there wasn’t one speck of dust on sight. Once again the owner shows to have impressive skills on neatness.

Daniel opened his bag and threw any shiny looking thing inside; A golden bird with red gem eyes, an old clock, some expensive looking watches that were in ornamenting the living room for some reason. 

The bedroom was next, just as organized as the rest. The money was hidden in a fake bottom in a drawer, it would be a good hiding stop if it wasn’t such a clear fake bottom. There were at least a couple thousands of dollars there. Luck day.

Second bedroom is it then. Daniel didn’t expect much, the owner lives alone, the room is either a deposit or just a plain guest room. But you never know right? Maybe there would be a surprise there.

It was fast, he opened the door and turned the light on, the bedroom was dirty and smelly, blood stained everywhere, a worn out mattress laid on the floor, chains clanked against each other. Daniel tried to dash out of there, he didn’t want to see it, the fastest he left that house the better. But before he could step back the world went black.

The fear sank it when he was still waking back up, bringing the memories of the bedroom back. Daniel tried to run, just to find himself tied to a chair.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

There was a single weak light right above his head, lighting up which had to be a basement, assuming he was still in that house, after all; the house only had a kitchen, a living room and two bedrooms. And that place sure wasn’t any of those.

The floor was made out of stone, it has dark stains all over. The chair was metal and bolted to the floor. This was bad, this was so fucking bad.

Calm down. He ordered himself. Calm the fuck down.

A noise just ahead made his heart jump, it was the chains again, this time being dragged on the stone. A stranger walked closer, standing under the light. They were shorter than Daniel, their skin was dirty and scarred, bruises painted all the visible skin under, brown eyes, with large blackcircles stared down. 

Daniel stared back, afraid of closing his throat and gluing his eyes to the prisoner(?) in front of him. The stranger screamed, no words came out of their mouth, only a loud high-pitched scream. It took a little too long for Daniel to understand why, until footsteps could be heard from upstairs. They were calling him.

“nonononononono,” Daniel whispered, “Shhhhhhhh, please you can’t-”

His voice was cut by a metal door being unlocked, the bruised stranger stepped back right before stronger lights were turned on. Blinding Daniel while footsteps walked closer and closer. 

“Look at what we have here,” the owner said, grabbing his chin up and smiling down at him. “A dirty thief. You made quite a mess upstairs.”

“Sorry,” Daniel said, he was not the defiant type, and what can he do? He is tied, he has seen what this man can do to someone. “Sorry, I’ll pay you back for everything. I swear if you let me-”

“Shhhhhh,” the man’s voice sank deep, all the way to Daniel’s bones. “I have no use for your money. Losing some cash won’t make you repent right?”

The man reached out for a table, and Daniel looked around for the first time since the lights had been turned on. His heart almost stopped at the sight; saws, knives, hammers, drills, pliers and chains all neatly organized. He reached for a cleaver.

“Please,” Daniel dry swallowed. “I’m sorry, it was a mistake, I’ll never do it again please just-”

“Shhh,” the man ordered, before turning at his captive. “Shut him up.”

They obeyed in a heartbeat, the chain attached to both their ankles was once again dragged over stone, their scarred hand put a cloth inside Daniel’s mouth covering it afterwards to make sure no sound would come out.

Daniel’s eyes teared up, failing to stop the man from opening his hand, he tried begging, fighting to do anything. But the cleaver was placed between his index and middle fingers regardless of his will.

“I don’t believe in convincing people to behave through words,” the man said with a large smile, “Much less people like you. No, you must feel the consequences of your actions.”

The cleaver was brought down quickly, cutting all the way across, and making Daniel’s index finger look longer than it was. His mind was a mix of nothing and pain, he screamed through the cloth, and the stranger forced it deeper down his throat.

“You are overreacting,” the owner said after a while, he seemed to be giving him some time to couch his breath before the next cut. “Get your act together, it was the first of six. Don’t you dare to die on me before I’m done.”

The tears made seeing anything impossible, the cloth made breathing through the pain way too hard. But the cleaver was once again placed over his hand, this time between the middle and ring fingers.

“Take a deep breath. Try to stay awake,” the man said, his smile still large, his eyes narrowed down dangerously. The cleaver was brought down and Daniel’s world went black again.

—

@kathea

#whump #kidnapping #torture #hand whump #gore #multiple whumpees #not a reblog #my writing

[granvarones]

July is #DisabilityPride month, and I wanted to share these scars because I got them due to surgery to help improve my mobility since I was born with #CerebralPalsy.

Before I knew I was queer or gender non-conforming or recognized that my Latinx identity would make me different, my gait, off-balance, disability pre-school attending self knew I was different because of my disability.

While my disability isn't as visible these days, these scars are. Working with Daniel of @clear_pathworks over the last two months has helped me deal with my CP.

I am a disabled, brown, queer femme, and Proud.

mark travis rivera, (he/him)

atlanta, ga

#granvarones #gay #queer #latinx #lgbtq #storytelling #disability pride month

[dumbass-extraordinaire]

“I’m so sorry that you have to have a body… So very sorry that you have to have a body…” (AJJ)

(do not repost w/ out permission)

[Image ID: a traditional pen and ink drawing of daniel powell circa season 2 of archive 81 in the style of an anatomy textbook.  

daniel is a painfully skinny white trans man with shaggy blond hair and light stubble.  his left arm and leg have been replaced by old-fashioned prosthetics, and there is significant scarring at the amputation sites.  his stomach is opened up and his organs have been replaced by a vhs tape and a nest of wires visible behind his exposed ribs.  some of the wires are connected to the tape recorder that has replaced his heart.  his voicebox has also been replaced by several wires that connect to a machine replacing his left ear.  half of his head has been shaved and he is only wearing heart-patterned boxers.

End ID.]

#my art #my art tag #queer artist #artists on tumblr #traditional art #tw body horror #tw body gore #tw unreality #tw gore #tw organs #tw bones #tw partial nudity #tw top surgery #tw surrealism #tw surgery #archive 81 #a81 #daniel powell #dan powell #archive 81 podcast #archive 81 pod #a81 podcast #a81 pod #archive 81 fanart #a81 fanart #archive 81 art #a81 art #character design #lyrics from body terror song by ajj #now with image id