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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year

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Company that makes millions spying on students will get to sue a whistleblower

Yesterday, the Court of Appeal for British Columbia handed down a jaw-droppingly stupid and terrible decision, rejecting the whistleblower Ian Linkletter’s claim that he was engaged in legitimate criticism when he linked to freely available materials from the ed-tech surveillance company Proctorio:

https://www.bccourts.ca/jdb-txt/ca/23/01/2023BCCA0160.htm

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/20/links-arent-performances/#free-ian-linkletter

It’s been a minute since Linkletter’s case arose, so I’ll give you a little recap here. Proctorio is a massive, wildly profitable ed-tech company that sells a surveillance tool to monitor students while they take high-stakes tests from home. The tool monitors the student’s computer and the student’s face, especially their eye-movements. It also allows instructors and other personnel to watch the students and even take control of their computer. This is called “remote invigilation.”

This is ghastly in just about every way. For starters, Proctorio’s facial monitoring software embeds the usual racist problems with machine-learning stuff, and struggles to recognize Black and brown faces. Black children sitting exams under Proctorio’s gimlet eye have reported that the only way to satisfy Proctorio’s digital phrenology system is to work with multiple high-powered lights shining directly in their faces.

A Proctorio session typically begins with a student being forced to pan a webcam around their test-taking room. During lockdown, this meant that students who shared a room — for example, with a parent who worked night-shifts — would have to invade their family’s privacy, and might be disqualified because they couldn’t afford a place large enough to have private room in which to take their tests.

Proctorio’s tools also punish students for engaging in normal test-taking activity. Do you stare off into space when you’re trying through a problem? Bzzzt. Do you read questions aloud to yourself under your breath when you’re trying to understand their meanings? Bzzzt. Do you have IBS and need to go to the toilet? Bzzzt. The canon of remote invigilation horror stories is filled with accounts of students being forced to defecate themselves, or vomit down their shirts without turning their heads (because looking away is an automatically flagged offense).

The tragedy is that all of this is in service to the pedagogically bankrupt practice of high-stakes testing. Few pedagogists believe that the kind of exam that Proctorio seeks to recreate in students’ homes has real assessment merit. As the old saying goes, “Tests measure your ability to take tests.” But Proctorio doesn’t even measure your ability to take a test — it measures your ability to take a test with three bright lights shining directly on your face. Or while you are covered in your own feces and vomit. While you stare rigidly at a screen. While your tired mother who just worked 16 hours in a covid ward stands outside the door to your apartment.

The lockdown could have been an opportunity to improve educational assessment. There is a rich panoply of techniques that educators can adopt that deliver a far better picture of students’ learning, and work well for remote as well as in-person education. Instead, companies like Proctorio made vast fortunes, most of it from publicly funded institutions, by encouraging a worse-than-useless, discriminatory practice:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/24/proctor-ology/#miseducation

Proctorio clearly knows that its racket is brittle. Like any disaster profiteer, Proctorio will struggle to survive after the crisis passes and we awaken from our collective nightmare and ask ourselves why we were stampeded into using its terrible products. The company went to war against its critics.

In 2020, Proctorio CEO Mike Olsen doxed a child who complained about his company’s software in a Reddit forum:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/01/bossware/#moral-exemplar

In 2021, the reviews for Proctorio’s Chrome plugin all mysteriously vanished. Needless to say, these reviews — from students forced to use Proctorio’s spyware — were brutal:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/09/04/hypervigilance/#radical-transparency

Proctorio claims that it protects “educational integrity,” but its actions suggest a company far more concerned about the integrity of its own profits:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/16/unauthorized-paper/#cheating-anticheat

One of the critics that Proctorio attacked is Ian Linkletter. In 2020, Linkletter was a Learning Technology Specialist at UBC’s Faculty of Education. His job was to assess and support ed-tech tools, including Proctorio. In the course of that work, Linkletter reviewed Proctorio’s training material for educators, which are a bonanza of mask-off materials that are palpably contemptuous of students, who are presumed to be cheaters.

At the time, a debate over remote invigilation tools was raging through Canadian education circles, with students, teachers and parents fiercely arguing the merits and downsides of making surveillance the linchpin of assessment. Linkletter waded into this debate, tweeting a series of sharp criticisms of Proctorio. In these tweets, Linkletter linked to Proctorio’s unlisted, but publicly available, Youtube videos.

A note of explanation: Youtube videos can be flagged as “unlisted,” which means they don’t show up in searches. They can also be flagged as “private,” which means you have to be on a list of authorized users to see them. Proctorio made its training videos unlisted, but they weren’t private — they were visible to anyone who had a link to them.

Proctorio sued Linkletter for this. They argued that he had breached a duty of confidentiality, and that linking to these videos was a copyright violation:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/10/17/proctorio-v-linkletter/#proctorio

This is a classic SLAPP — a “strategic litigation against public participation.” That’s when a deep-pocketed, thin-skinned bully, like Proctorio, uses the threat of a long court battle to force their critics into silence. They know they can’t win their case, but that’s not the victory they’re seeking. They don’t want to win the case, they want to win the argument, by silencing a critic who would otherwise be bankrupted by legal fees.

Getting SLAPPed is no fun. I’ve been there. Just this year, a billionaire financier tried to force me into silence by threatening me with a lawsuit. Thankfully, Ken “Popehat” White was on the case, and he reminded this billionaire’s counsel that California has a strong anti-SLAPP law, and if Ken had to defend me in court, he could get a fortune in fees from the bully after he prevailed:

https://twitter.com/doctorow/status/1531684572479377409

British Columbia also has an anti-SLAPP law, but unlike California’s anti-SLAPP, the law is relatively new and untested. Still, Proctorio’s suit against Linkletter was such an obvious SLAPP that for many of us, it seemed likely that Linkletter would be able to defend himself from this American bully and its attempt to use Canada’s courts to silence a Canadian educator.

For Linkletter to use BC’s anti-SLAPP law, he would have to prove that he was weighing in on a matter of public interest, and that Proctorio’s copyright and confidentiality claims were nonsense, unlikely to prevail on their merits. If he could do that, he’d be able to get the case thrown out, without having to go through a lengthy, brutally expensive trial.

Incredibly, though, the lower court found against Linkletter. Naturally, Linkletter appealed. His “factotum” is a crystal clear document that sets out the serious errors of law and fact the lower court made:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1aB1ztWDFr3MU6BsAMt6rWXOiXJ8sT3MY/view

But yesterday, the Court of Appeal upheld the lower court, repeating all of these gross errors and finding for Proctorio:

https://www.bccourts.ca/jdb-txt/ca/23/01/2023BCCA0160.htm

This judgment is grotesque. It makes a mockery of BC’s anti-SLAPP statute, to say nothing of Canadian copyright and confidentiality law. For starters, it finds that publishing a link can be a “performance” of a copyrighted work, which meant that when Linkletter linked to the world-viewable Youtube files that Proctorio had posted, he infringed on copyright.

This is a perverse, even surreal take on copyright. The court rejects Linkletter’s argument that even Youtube’s terms of service warned Proctorio that publishing world-viewable material on its site constituted permission for people to link to and watch that material.

But what about “fair dealing” (similar to fair use)? Linkletter argued that linking to a video that shows that Proctorio’s assurances to parents and students about its products’ benign nature were contradicted by the way it talked to educators was fair dealing. Fair dealing is a broad suite of limitations and exceptions to copyright for the purposes of commentary, criticism, study, satire, etc.

So even if linking is a copyright infringement (ugh, seriously?!), surely it’s fair dealing in this case. Proctorio was selling millions of dollars in software to public institutions, inflicting it on kids whose parents weren’t getting the whole story. Linkletter used Proctorio’s own words to rebut its assurances. What could be more fair dealing than that?

Not so fast, the appeals panel says: they say that Linkletter could have made his case just as well without linking to Proctorio’s materials. This is…bad. I mean, it’s also wrong, but it’s very bad, too. It’s wrong because an argument about what a company intends necessarily has to draw upon the company’s own statements. It’s absurd to say that Linkletter’s point would have been made equally well if he said “I disbelieve Proctorio’s public assurances because I’ve seen seekrit documents” as it was when he was able to link to those documents so that people could see them for themselves.

But it’s bad because it rips the heart out of the fair dealing exception for criticism. Publishing a link to a copyrighted work is the most minimal way to quote from it in a debate — Linkletter literally didn’t reproduce a single word, not a single letter, from Proctorio’s copyrighted works. If the court says, “Sure, you can quote from a work to criticize it, but only so much as you need to make your argument,” and then says, “But also, simply referencing a work without quoting it at all is taking too much,” then what reasonable person would ever try to rely on a fair dealing exemption for criticism?

Then there’s the confidentiality claim: in his submissions to the lower court and the appeals court, Linkletter pointed out that the “confidential” materials he’d linked to were available in many places online, and could be easily located with a Google search. Proctorio had uploaded these “confidential” materials to many sites — without flagging them as “unlisted” or “private.”

What’s more, the videos that Linkletter linked to were in found a “Help Center” that didn’t even have a terms-of-service condition that required confidentiality. How on Earth can materials that are publicly available all over the web be “confidential?”

Here, the court takes yet another bizarre turn in logic. They find that because a member of the public would have to “gather” the videos from “many sources,” that the collection of links was confidential, even if none of the links in the collection were confidential. Again, this is both wrong and bad.

Every investigator, every journalist, every critic, starts by looking in different places for information that can be combined to paint a coherent picture of what’s going on. This is the heart of “open source intelligence,” combing different sources for data points that shed light on one another.

The idea that “gathering” public information can breach confidentiality strikes directly at all investigative activity. Every day, every newspaper and news broadcast in Canada engages in this conduct. The appeals court has put them all in jeopardy with this terrible finding.

Finally, there’s the question of Proctorio’s security. Proctorio argued that by publishing links to its educator materials, Linkletter weakened the security of its products. That is, they claim that if students know how the invigilation tool works, it stops working. This is the very definition of “security through obscurity,” and it’s a practice that every serious infosec professional rejects. If Proctorio is telling the truth when it says that describing how its products work makes them stop working, then they make bad products that no one should pay money for.

The court absolutely flubs this one, too, accepting the claim of security through obscurity at face value. That’s a finding that flies in the face of all security research.

So what happens now? Well, Linkletter has lost his SLAPP claim, so nominally the case can proceed. Linkletter could appeal his case to Canada’s Supreme Court (about 7% of Supreme Court appeals of BC appeals court judgments get heard). Or Proctorio could drop the case. Or it could go to a full trial, where these outlandish ideas about copyright, confidentiality and information security would get a thorough — and blisteringly expensive — examination.

In Linkletter’s statement, he remains defiant and unwilling to give in to bullying, but says he’ll have to “carefully consider” his next step. That’s fair enough: there’s a lot on the line here:

https://linkletter.opened.ca/stand-against-proctorios-slapp-update-30/

Linkletter answers his supporters’ questions about how they can help with some excellent advice: “What I ask is for you to do what you can to protect students. Academic surveillance technology companies would like nothing more but for us all to shut up. Don’t let them silence you. Don’t let anyone or anything take away your human right to freedom of expression.”

Today (Apr 21), I’m speaking in Chicago at the Stigler Center’s Antitrust and Competition Conference. This weekend (Apr 22/23), I’m at the LA Times Festival of Books.

[Image ID: A girl working on a laptop. Her mouth has been taped shut. Glaring out of the laptop screen is the hostile red eye of HAL9000 from '2001: A Space Odyssey.' Behind them is a tattered, filthy, burned Canadian flag.]

Image: Ingo Bernhardt https://www.flickr.com/photos/spree2010/4930763550/

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

Eleanor Vladinsky (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Canadian_flag_against_grey_sky.jpg

CC BY 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #security through obscurity #copyfight #education #cdnpoli #whistleblowers #pedagogy #canada #intimidation #corruption #slapp #ian linkletter #proctorio #censorship #remote invigilation

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torasplanet · 6 months

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❝𝙅𝙀𝘼𝙇𝙊𝙐𝙎 𝙎𝙇𝙐𝙏.ᐟ❞

PLUG!E. YEAGER + BIMBO!F. READER ft. PLUG!C. SPRINGER

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ; you wanna get jealous over some crack whore and show your ass to connie? fine but now you gotta ride eren while connie watches. have fun.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 ; riding, slight degradation, unprotected sex, drabble, overstimulation, p in v, exhibition, mean!eren, mean!connie, threesome(mentioned), drugs, high sex, dacryphilia, cuckolding w armin(mentioned), college au, skin color not mentioned, ib

It didn’t bother Eren that much when you sat in the backseat of his car with a pout on your face while watching him deal to a dope-feen bitch who was touching all on his forearm, he could see where you were coming from and couldn’t get mad at you for being jealous, he just found it silly that you were getting upset over a crack whore who he didn’t even spare another glance after handing her the drugs she asked for.

You sitting there with a pout and your arms crossed against your chest ignoring him when he tried to talk to you didn’t bother him either. Eren was used to your fucked up attitude by now and just reminded himself to take care of that later so it didn’t lead to a petty argument.

However…what did bother him was when you purposely dropped five dollars on the ground on your way to the gas station store while he was busy practically showing your entire ass and lace panties to Connie who sat in his passenger seat after you begged him to give you money so you could get whatever fucking candy you asked for after ignoring him for the majority of the ride. That shit bothered him a lot, he considered asking Connie to handle the deal he was currently working on and getting out of the car dragging your ass back to the car by your hair, and teaching you not to fuck with him right there but no…he had a better idea. And that idea would come into play right now.

“‘Ren c’mon! My legs hurt…” You whined out planting your hands on Eren's chest as you sat on his lap on the couch with him eight inches deep inside of you, you had already come twice and your legs were aching! It wasn’t fair how he wasn’t letting you have a break! The brunette man simply looked up at you with his red-lidded eyes exhaling smoke into your precious face which was covered in tears and your ruined makeup, he passed the blunt in his hand back to Connie who sat on the other side of the couch watching the whole ordeal with a grin on his face “Hell no, you’re gonna fuck yourself out right in front of Connie since you love showing your ass to him right?” Eren said as you gazed down at him with watery eyes, it wasn’t a question, it wasn’t even a statement you were supposed to respond to because no matter what you said, it’d just end in him giving a slap to your ass.

But unfortunately, you weren’t thinking, not at all this entire night but you never did “No! I don’t, only for you ‘rennie!” Connie snickered at your pathetic statement as more tears spewed from your eyes, you turned your head and glared at him which just made him laugh even more, you looked so pathetic. Completely naked while they were both fully dressed, sobbing, and now you were glaring at him? You looked like a kicked puppy more than anything.

Eren sat up straight at your words before gripping your jaw and turning your head to face him, you could now feel his breath on your face from how close you two were “Then explain to me why you acted like a stupid whore showing my pussy to him?” His green eyes stared daggers into your soul as you stood there looking down at him silent, you didn’t have anything to say. He knew why and if you said anything about it he’d probably torture you more for being a ‘jealous slut’ that’s how he would say it.

He narrowed his eyes at you once more before letting go of your face harshly making a sob escape your throat “That’s what I thought, now keep going.” Eren demanded slapping his hand on the soft flesh of your ass making even more tears escape your eyes and flow down the apples of your cheeks.

You glanced at Connie for help but he did nothing but hit the blunt while remaining in eye contact with you, you whined as you continued to ride him tiredly trying your best to ignore the pain in your legs. You hoped this didn’t lead to a threesome, they would be so mean to you! Armin wouldn’t just sit there and let this happen. He’d help you and tell Eren to relax and that you didn’t deserve it! Having Armin watch was way better than dumb Connie!

A combination of moans and sobs were let out into the air as you lazily rode Eren, your back arching when he hit just the right spot as the two men acted liked you weren’t even there casually talking and passing the blunt back and forth, that might’ve hurt more than your legs. Eren knew from experience that you lived off attention, you were like a Tinkerbell, if you didn’t get the attention you would just die and he was refusing to give you that. What a dick!

Wet sounds filled the room along with their chatting that you didn’t care enough to listen to, that’s if you even had enough in you to hear anything “Ngh! ‘Rennie!” You were nearing your breaking point cumming for a third time and Eren wasn’t letting you stop anytime soon, every time you even halted your movements slightly, he’d slap you on your ass or give you a glare that scared you enough to keep going but everything was too much and you stopped completely leaning forward and collapsing on his body continuing to cry loudly.

“Fuck are you stopping for?” Eren said rudely pushing your limp body off his looking at you with hate and disgust hurting your feelings even more than he already had “Too tired…please m’ sorry!” Eren didn’t even react to your pleas as you banged your balled-up fists on his chest tiredly to get him to sympathize with you somehow even just a little bit “Too fucking bad.” Eren responded, “Hold on bro, maybe she just needs a lil’ sum’ to help her.” Connie said with a laugh before standing and walking over to you, he grabbed your jaw with his hand before putting the blunt to your lips as you looked up at him your puffy eyes. He almost came in his pants right there at the sight of you.

He and Eren watched as you inhaled before Connie took the blunt away from your mouth, the springer male leaned closer to press your lips together but Eren kicked his kneecap making the gray-eyed boy look at his friend with a scowl “Fuck was that for Eren?” You watched the ordeal as you exhaled the smoke out of your nose just glad Eren wasn’t focused on making you continue, eren didn’t really like sharing. Especially sharing you but the idea of threesomes appealed to him as long as the other person didn’t kiss you.

“I ain’t even let Armin kiss her, what makes you think you can?” The Yeager man questioned making Connie scoff before he plopped back down to his spot on the couch grumbling something about Eren being too damn possessive to have threesomes. Eren’s head then turned back to you looking at you with the same lidded eyes that have been giving you little attention all night “Lemme tell you sum’ pretty…” He whispered sitting up again and getting close to your face, he gave you a small peck on your lips making you whine. You wanted more than just a stupid peck, small kisses are for cheeks not for lips.

You looked down at him with teary eyes as you tried not to let them spill out as Eren would probably laugh if you did “If you stop again, you’re not cummin’ for weeks.” The statement made your jaw drop and your eyes widen, the sobbing continued as you heard Connie cackle loudly “Better get moving jealous slut.” You pouted at the statement as they were the exact words you thought eren would call you while your salty tears dropped down onto Eren’s white tee, with these two, this night was never going to end.

©torasplanet .ᐟ reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!

#eren yeager #eren x reader #drabble ig #aot smut #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan smut #plug!eren #plug!connie #connie springer #connie springer x reader #connie springer smut #torasplanet.ᐟ #fem reader #bimbo!reader #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager smut #marls-fics.ᐟ #◛⑅·˚♡ren.ᐟ #◛⑅·˚♡connn>_<.ᐟ

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lacesgirl · 3 months

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burn those flowers|t.nott

part 2

summary: Nott could be sweet, romantic and overall perfect boyfriend but at the end he make you to burn his promise that he's going to love you till the end.

parings: Theodore Nott x fem!reader

warnings: bad grammar, smoking, kinda angst

word counts: 2593

author's note: I'm back again just to disappear for another year but school and ib program has been lately too much and I barely got any sleep but I want you guys to have fun even tho if I'm not having fun at all.

Theodore Nott was really sweet at the beginning and during it but then…How a person can change so quickly and without a reason but maybe there was a reason.

Somehow I knew that me and him would end up close to each other but I never expected that we would end up that close. Theodore Nott and I were at the same house so it was obvious that we’re going to spend some time together.

At first it was always because of Mattheo who was even a bigger drinker than me so I usually went with them to Hogsmeade or Forbidden Forest. Mattheo gets to know me with Draco, Blaise, Lorenzo and Theodore. It's not that I didn't stand out and was quiet. As early as the first week of school, me and Mattheo got detention together. I just didn't think me and them would become friends. They were unapproachable and especially Draco, who had unexplained feelings about Pansy.

But here we are at Black Lake for the weekly Slytherin party. This time it wasn't a big deal because it was just our group but muggle alcohol could walk on water. We were sitting by the fire when Pansy and Draco decided to leave us for the Forbidden Forest.

“Have a nice conversation,” Blaise said, amused by the situation, to which Draco gave him a look.

“Leave them alone," I said, "There are no worse of them than unexplained feelings about each other.”

I felt Mattheo put his arm around my waist and hugged me tightly.

“Unexplained feelings you say.” He commented.

“Leave me alone Riddle, you're drunk.” I answered him.

Out of the corner of my eye I watched Nott whose jaw clenched. It was between us that there were unexplained feelings. It's not that Mattheo was infatuated with me, we just liked to flirt with each other and later he told me about more girls whose hearts he broke. He was good looking but Nott had something about him. Something that no one else had. Nott was also unfortunately very nonchalant and secretive but gave blunt signals.

“Why do you have to break my heart every time and even later I don't get a goodnight kiss?" he asked.

Before I had time to answer him Lorenzo threw up.

“Well, now it's time for you to give someone else your attention.” I said standing up and patting him on the back.

“He is also your friend.” He answered me.

“Yes but you are a strong man and it was your and Blaise's idea to drink.” I replied sitting down next to Theo.

I rested my head on his shoulder and we watched the others take Lorenzo, who was unable to get up. They had a hard way to go and an even harder crossing of the dormitory ahead of them.

When they disappeared from sight and Mattheo's cursing was not heard I knew I could ask Theo about his day.

“How was your day?” I asked.

“Good except for the fact that the girl which I adore ignored me all day, avoided me as much as possible and at the end of the day flirted with my friend and let him grope her.” he responded.

“You should be less nervous," I said, then gave him a kiss on the cheek.

I saw him tense up even more so I snatched the cigarette from his hand and took a decent drag. It was because of them that me and Nott became close to each other when on the Astrology Tower he was thinking that he’s not going to say sober and I couldn't sleep. Our first kiss was also thanks to cigarettes when I asked him for one and he did a shotgunning cigarette and then kissed me in the same place where we were now, exactly 7 months ago.

“Could you give it back already," he asked even though I knew he could pull out another one.

I looked at him and then sat on his lap and inhaled. I put my lips to his mouth and slowly blew cigarette smoke into his mouth. After a few seconds his hands were on my waist and our kiss seemed even more intimate. When we pulled away from each other, he pulled me closer and held me even tighter.

“Y/N will you be my girlfriend?” he asked.

“Theo, you know the answer.” I responded.

“After today I’m not sure,” he stated.

“Yes, I will be your girlfriend.” I said then I placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

Kissing with Nott has it that it never ends in one and is never just kissing. Before I knew it I was lying on the ground and he was above me playing with the hem of my skirt. I knew it wasn't the best idea but the alcohol I drank earlier gave me some courage. I didn't know if it was the alcohol that warmed me up or Theodore himself. The next thing I felt was his lips sucking on my neck and his hand going higher and higher on my thigh. When he unbuttoned my first button we heard the breaking of dry branches.

“Sorry, we didn't want to interrupt you," said Draco.

“Are you officially together now?” asked Nott.

“ I don’t know, are we.” said Draco then grabbed Pansy's hand tighter and walked away.

I think if it wasn't for those two me and Theo would have ended up the same way. Draco had his shirt unbuttoned and Pansy better not comment on that out of respect for our friendship.

“We'd better get back," I said, then quickly reached for a cigarette.

“Do we really have to?” my boyfriend asked me.

In response, I got up slightly to my feet and buttoned my button. Theo sighed then reached into his backpack.

“I have something for you, I know we haven't been together long but I'm sure I've been in love with you for a long time,” he said, pulling artificial flowers out of his backpack, “ Y/N I'm giving you these flowers because they will wilt only when I stop loving you.”

I felt my eyes glazing over so I just kissed him and took his hand.

“This is the best gift I ever got," I said as he pulled me closer to him.

Deftly snatched a cigarette from me after which he lit it. We walked like that through the night and it was perfect. Our beginnings were perfect too. I stopped being his secret and became his priority.

The next day I was talking to Pansy about what had happened between her and Draco in the common room, when I felt someone cover my eyes and place a light kiss on my shoulder.

“Guess who it is," he said.

I grabbed his hands tightly and turned around then placed a light kiss on his lips. I felt Pansy's gaze on me, which penetrated my soul and drilled a hole in me.

“After training I'm taking you on a date," he said, then disappeared as quickly as he appeared.

“So…” shouted Pansy.

I grabbed her hand then directed us to our room. We spent this time very productively and it was not without slurs under my name, because how could I not tell her. As Pansy was getting excited about the idea of double dates, someone knocked on the door. Standing in them was not only Nott with flowers but also Draco.

“We leave you alone," I said, "Don't forget to put some spells on the door.”

I left with Theo and this was accompanied by a quiet thumping sound when Pansy threw her shoe at the door.

When I entered the room it was well after midnight and I found Draco and Pansy there in one bed. I knew they were pretending to sleep. As I walked away, I just threw a quiet slur and left the room.

As I walked in silence to the men's section, I quietly knocked. The shirtless Theodore opened it for me.

“You already missed me," he asked piteously.

“I preferred not to hear two people having sex a few meters away from me," I replied and then went into the room.

“Thank you for inviting me in and letting me sleep," said Nott ironically.

“I can always go to Matteo's to sleep," I replied and then went to the closet to put on something more comfortable to sleep in.

I felt that the atmosphere in the room thickened but I tried to ignore his gaze. When I went to bed, Nott was still standing in the same place. I knew he wouldn't go in if I didn't give him some attentiveness. I got up and walked over to him. I put my arms around his neck and started kissing him. However, he still stood unmoved.

“Even in a million years, me and him will never be together," I said and then pulled him toward the bed.

I knew it would work so a moment later my head was leaning against his bare chest. With my finger I was drawing stamps on his shoulder. It was quiet but peaceful. I knew he didn't like to talk much so I was filling in the silence for him. However, today the silence was different. It was a peace that he obtained because deep down he was afraid that I would actually end up with Mattheo.

I don't even know when Snape's lessons turned into a lesson of sending me notes instead of me and Mattheo getting detention. Theodore always made sure I didn't drink too much because I had no moderation. He always made me feel better. Weekly dates turned into twice a week dates, often double dates. He always moved me from the couch to my room. When I got too drunk with Pansy I would fall asleep there. I always went to his games and made sure he went to his lessons. I often found flowers or small gifts from him. We rarely argued and it was perfect. He was not selfish in bed. It was really wonderful.

The warm summer day was giving out. The Snape chamber in the basement seemed like a dreamy nightmare when the Slytherin got extra classes. I sat bored fighting my sleep and ignoring the taunts of Mattheo, who had recently become insistent. He couldn't understand that now I couldn't spend as much time alone with him. When being awake was almost impossible, I got a note.

We’re sneaking out. NOW!!!

Before I had time to react, I was pushed out the back door.

“We are going to be fucked” I said.

“Tought,”replied Nott pulling me behind him.

We didn't have to wait long for the consequences of this escape. All seven of us were called back the same day. Snape swapped us in pairs for a project we were to hand in by the end of the semester. I felt that me and Mattheo would get the worst pair, and I wasn't wrong. Mattheo got Ron Weasley, and I got Cedric. Fucking Cedric, with whom I used to have something in common. It wasn't the other but it was awkward afterwards.

I didn't even have to look at my boyfriend to know what he looked like. After the reprimand, we left the room. The mood was no longer the same as before.

“Anyone fancy a drink," Pansy asked. However, she didn't need to know the answer, because everyone knew where they were going.

While the party was going on at its best, I went to get another drink. When I returned, Theo was smoking a cigarette again. I sat down next to him on the ground, and he put his arm around me. I could feel him tense up so I quickly took a drink. It warmed me up from the inside and I guess that's what I needed.

“Teddy, I can always do this project myself," I said.

In response, I felt him squeeze me tighter. When he smoked a cigarette, he picked me up and began to lead me into the woods. When we finished, the party had long since ended.

“Are you sure everything is fine?” I asked.

Yes, I'm just afraid that what used to be between you two will come back. It's not that I don't trust you, I just." Before he finished talking I just hugged him.

For the first two weeks everything was the same, the only thing that changed was his need to be near me and my touch. However, later we stopped going on dates and he stopped talking. Later he spoke less but needed more and more touch. Later he just kept his hand on my thigh and rejected every other form of closeness. One day he didn't come at all. Since that day I haven't seen him and when I did it was always drunk. He avoided me and everyone else however he remained faithful to me. I tried my best to reach out to him until I gave up because I knew he would be at the party at the end of every project we had.

As I slipped through the empty castle, I didn't know if I could hear my beating heart more or the feeling walking behind me. Walking like this however, I hoped he would be there. When I got there, I didn't see him so I went to Mattheo, who was making drinks as usual. After a few drinks, I fired up a cigarette and took Mattheo aside.

“Do you think he has another?” I asked and inhaled my cigarette.

“No, believe me he was in love with you before he got to know you.” he answered me.

“Do you think he stopped loving me?” I asked.

“No, I already told you that he loves you more than anyone.” he answered me.

“Do you know what happened to him?” I asked again.

“If I knew, everything would have been fine long ago?” he answered me.

Before I had time to ask another question, we heard screams. We quickly bolted from our seats. The only thing I saw was the moment when Draco with Blais pulled Theodore away from Cedric. I quickly approached them but when he saw me he started to pull away and go to the front.

No one was paying attention to Nott, but to Cedric. I started to run towards him, however he did not give up. When we had gone far away I knew that this was the only opportunity to talk to him

“Theodre Nott what the fuck is your problem!”I shouted, but he ignored me.

So I ran up and pulled him by the hand so that he stopped. He stopped and turned towards me. For the first time I saw his eyes, so black and full of pain. Although maybe it was hatred.I’m not sure.

“Burn these flowers,” he said quite quietly.

“Talk to me," I said, although my heart had already managed to shatter into tiny pieces.

“Burn these fucking flowers,” he said, then snatched his hand and just start walking without even looking at me.

I stood like that, in the dark night, and a light wind blew on my back. I could do nothing but cry, and while I was crying like that, Mattheo found me. He hugged me tightly and sat with me all night while I alternated between crying and drinking.

Deep down I prayed that these flowers would burn on their own, because I couldn't do it.

let me know if you want part 2

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leclercstarrs · 1 year

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𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀’𝐀𝐌 ( 𝐩𝐭𝟏 ! )

characters -> kiri ! neteyam ! lo’ak ! tsireya ! ao’nung ! roxto !

synopsis -> the na’vi girls / boys calling you ‘ma’am’ !

warnings -> not proof read atm !

layout ib -> the lovely @qvrcll !

ଓ — kiri

“yes ma’am.” those are the words that just slipped from kiri’s mouth, her eyes immediately widening. “what?” you turn towards your girlfriend. you were being slightly strict, just worried about her safety as she’s been fighting with some of the metkayina boys. “nothing.” she attempts to grin, hoping you didn’t hear her. “kiri.” you glare at her, “sorry, i know you’re just stressed.” she says. “correct.” you huff. kiri sticks out her tongue and rolls her eyes playfully, quickly running away as you just stand there, staring at her with a terrifying look in your eyes. “get back here!” you call out, starting to follow her. lo’ak witnesses the entire situation, praying for kiri.

ಇ — neteyam

“neteyam!” you huff, trying to hold your boyfriend in one place, grabbing his jaw and turning his head to the side. “it stings.” he hisses, gritting his teeth as you clean the cut on his cheek. “well, be more careful next time and you won’t have to go through this.” you start, “what did i tell you last time?” you raise your eyebrow. “don’t fight ao’nung and his friends.” he quotes you, rolling his eyes. “don’t roll your eyes at me. i was right, look at you now.” you say. “yes ma’am.” he doesn’t even think about what he just said, until he notices you pull away from him with a scowl on your face. “sorry, i-” just as he’s about to finish his sentence, you lightly smack his head. “ow!” he places a hand where you smacked him, “skxawng!” you yell. “i know, i know, im sorry.” he whispers, looking down at the ground. you want to stay mad at him, but you just can’t. instead, you gently place your hand on his face and make him look at you, before kissing his cheek.

ಇ — lo’ak

as per usual, lo’ak got injured while doing something reckless. now, you’re taking care of him and basically babysitting him. “you’re childish, lo’ak.” you scoff, your boyfriend just staring at the ground of the marui you’re sitting in. “i’m sorry.” he whispers. “you said that last time!” you raise your voice, immediately regretting it. “sorry, you just, you had me so scared.” you shake your head. “please, take care of yourself from now on.” you add. “yes ma’am.” he grins, knowing how much you hate when he makes jokes during dangerous situations. “lo’ak, i swear to eywa-” you start, lo’ak quickly standing up and kissing you before you can continue.

ଓ — tsireya

you’re currently on a date with your girlfriend, leading her through the forest in order to reach the special spot you discovered the other day. “this way!” you grin, tsireya playfully rolling her eyes, “yes ma’am.” she laughs. you don’t realize what she said at first, but just as you get to the surprise spot, you stop. “ma’am?” you raise your eyebrow, turning to face her. “it was a joke!” she raises her hands in worry, her smile falling. “oh, tsireya.” you whisper, a smirk forming on your face. you rush towards her, carefully picking her up and placing her down on the sand, tackling her and then tickling her sides. “ah! stop, no!” she laughs.

ಇ — ao’nung

“ao’nung, stop starting fights! you’re going to get hurt even worse next time!” you scoff, grabbing your boyfriend’s arm and leading him away from lo’ak and his siblings. “whatever.” he rolls his eyes, causing you to smack his side. “ow!” he hisses, his ears going back. “promise me right now that you’ll at least try and get along with the sully family.” you say. “yes ma’am.” he whispers under his breath, “sorry, what was that?” you stop walking, glaring at him. “im just kidding, yes, i will try to get along with them.” he mumbles.

ಇ — roxto

roxto loves joking around with you, his girlfriend, so when your overprotective side is revealed, he can’t stop playing around with you. as you’re sitting in your marui, cleaning the cut on his lip, you order him to lift his head up slightly, “yes ma’am” leaving his mouth in reply to your demands. your eyes widen and he tries to contain his laugh, ultimately failing and bursting out laughing,leaving you to sit there and shake your head.

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thelastofhyde · 5 months

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i. sea-day 1.

pairing. tourguide!joel miller x fem!reader. series synopsis. on the brink of undergoing a life-altering change, you runaway from your problems in the only way any sane person can: embarking on a mediterranean cruise. there you meet joel miller, a grumpy, private tour-guide, who just so happens to be tasked with touring you through each stop on your cruise. from greek goddesses to roman ruins, you have ten days to avoid your fate. maybe a frowning, southern, sex-on-legs of a man is just what the doctor ordered. chapter summary. as the ship sets sail, you search for help. at the bar, you encounter a familiar stranger. series warnings. no use of y/n, set in 2015, no apocalypse au, cruise!au, rom-com, enemies-ish to lovers, sunshine!reader, tour-guide!joel, unspecified age gap, depictions/discussions of grief, angst, fluff, a whole load of smut, a lot of cheesy stereotypical romance tropes bc i just wanna see joel not suffer ( too much )<3 chapter warnings. alcohol, mentions of class/wealth themes, implications that the reader has underlining mental health issues, convenient plot-devices that would only ever happen in a rom-com bc this is fun silly fiction baby!, joel suffers from acute insuferable-bastarditis :( word count. 3.7k hyde’s input. let's all hold hands and agree to ignore the fact both parts so far have opened on the reader panicking in a bathroom, okay? maybe she's a stressed girlie with a flare of ibs, you don't know her life. feeling a little insecure abt this chapter and lowkey don't wanna post it, but i promise the actual fun begins in chapter two, where we finally get to see tourguide!joel in action. previous chapter - next chapter - series masterlist

“What time did you say you boarded?”

Your mother’s voice travels from where your phone lays, abandoned upon the bed, all the way into the decadent bathroom.

Eyes moving a mile-a-minute, as if you're rushing to take in every jaw-dropping detail.

There’s the sink area, a double-vanity that’s centred with an array of lotions and soaps, and overlooked by an overwhelmingly large mirror that makes up half the wall, lined with a golden hue of light. A shower, with glass curtains and enough room to fit your whole wardrobe in it. Then, there’s the bathtub you’re already envisioning yourself sinking into. Marble lines the floor, and the outer wall is made up of three window panes, gifting you a view of pure blue, the sea and the sky melting into one another across the horizon. It’s making you nauseous, this looming feeling of imposter syndrome the interior brings you.

You don’t belong in this, a fancy room designed for fancy people.

An iteration of your name, back on the bed, drags you away from your own troubled reflection.

“Seven,” you call out, inching your way back into the main area of the suite.

“In the morning?!” She’s just as shocked as the first time you answered her question, fifteen minutes ago, and the second time, seven minutes ago.

Humming in approval, you give a sweeping gaze over the plush carpeted floor, the wall-mounted television displaying the cruiseship’s logo, the king sized bed that’s calling out for you, seducing you with the promise of a mattress that won’t be stabbing at your back the whole night. As if on queue, there’s a sharp pain in your lower back, a lasting reminder of the hostel you’d found little rest in last night.

“Well, there goes my jealousy!” Lacklustre replies aside, your mother continues her ramblings, used to filling the void of conversation with the sound of her own voice. “Can you imagine? Me, awake at that time? You’ll be glad you’re travelling on your own, honey.” Usually, you admire the positive spin your mother tries to bring to life. Your being alone upon this trip, however, is not a topic you want her to address, much less find the good in. “I mean, I don’t think even your sister-”

“I think they’ve made a mistake,” you cut her off, eyes zeroing in on a pair of glass doors. Snatching the phone off the bed, you turn off the speaker and press it to your ear just in time to hear your mother’s confusion, questioning what you mean. Focus on those doors, you slowly make your way over to them. “The room,” you clarify, fingers curling around a handle to unlock it, prying the doors apart. A wave of salty fresh air, hits your face as you step out onto wooden decking. You find yourself upon a balcony, facing off into the deep blue distance. To your left, there’s two sun loungers and a glass coffee table, mounted by two champagne flutes and a simple welcome note sprawled out in black ink. “I think they’ve given me the wrong room.”

It’s the next best thing to a reasonable explanation you can find, no chance on earth you were ever listed to stay in such a suite. No, a room like this is meant for a wealthy businessman and his uptight wife to overindulge themselves on gold-trimmed furniture and a fur-lined bed for a week, in which they do everything but address the lipstick stains that keep lining his collars or the chauffeur who keeps himself parked between her legs.

You can already picture such a pair now, storming over to some poor, unsuspecting deckhand, red on both their faces as they begin to berate him over the fact they're in a cabin the size of a cupboard, with a communal restroom and a bunk barely fit for one person.

“Why? Is something wrong with it?”

“No,” it’s an answer you reluctantly give, more than aware of how ridiculous it sounds. “It’s… nice. Perfect. Too perfect, like I should feel lucky to stand in it, nevermind live in it for the next few days.”

It’s with caution that you glance over each shoulder, taking note of the seemingly never ending row of balconies that line the ship, a sizable gap between each one. Guts twisting a little at the thought, you peer ever so slightly over the right edge and are greeted with views of more balconies. Beyond that, there’s only blue. Waves crash into the ship’s side and bounce off in white foam. You renew the distance between you and the ledge, unable to stop yourself from glancing both ways, confirming there’s no neighbouring balcony that finds itself occupied.

Then bend down, clasping a hold of one of the champagne flutes.

You take your first sip like it’s a crime, wearily, eyes darting back and forth, waiting to be caught in the act and dragged out of this room, down to whatever poverty loft you really belonged in.

Or, maybe they’d just toss you overboard, rid themselves of any possible hassle. People go missing all the time at sea, right? People go missing all the time on cruises. You’d just be another blip in the system, an error that can be overwritten with a simple-

“I can hear you thinking through the phone, sweetie.”

You take another sip, and let a weight fall off your chest, dragging in a breath large enough to make up for the moment or two you’d stopped breathing. “I’m just… tired. Don’t worry, I’m perfectly fine. No big freak out on it’s way, again.”

“Honey, you know how me and your father feel about you calling it a freak-” she must be able to hear your eye roll through the phone, cutting herself off before she can keep going. “Just, try and enjoy this trip, okay? Maybe you’re in that room because where you’re supposed to be. Maybe you’ve been awarded some free upgrade, like that time your dad got bumped up to business class!”

Bless her for trying, though she may fail. It’s enough to bring a smile to your face.

You swallow back what remains of the bubbled liquid.

Through the phone, you hear a door burst open and the entrance of a loud, excited little voice. Something akin to granny rings down the line, and it’s enough to have you frozen where you stand, bones rigid and unable to move. Something seems to smack into the microphone, a rustling of fabric as you envision your mother making room for little limbs on her lap.

“Hey, my little munchkin! How was soccer?” You can’t make out what the voice tells your mother, heart too busy beating louder than any drum, inching its way further up your wind pipe and threatening to choke you on it. “Guess who I’ve got on the phone?” The tiny voice squeals out your name, bile joins your heart inside your throat. Maybe this is how you find out you get seasick. “Do you wanna say hi-”

“Mum, I, uh… I’ve gotta go,” you’re eyeing the remaining glass on the table, the rising bubbles enticing you to hurry up, drink it before it goes flat. “I should go find the help desk, get this room thing sorted out.”

“Just a second, let E-”

“I’ll call you later,” you hang up.

You’re left with just the raging waters below, a caw from seagulls up above. Eyes slipping shut, you pull in a deep breath and push out a silent plea for that sting in your eyes to be from the salt in the air, not a set of unfallen tears. A few more breaths and it feels safe enough to open your eyes again, glancing down as your phone vibrates in your hand.

Two texts, each from your mother.

09:38 - She says hi, and that you better bring her back a cool souvenir. 09:39 - Doctor Anderson says she’s showing improvement and they’re finally starting to get somewhere. Just thought you’d want to know x

Giving in to temptation, you snatch up the champagne glass, bring it up to your lips and- pause, interrupted as you make eye contact with a man one balcony over. He’s older, a well-rounded gut fit into a light blue shirt and tailored trousers. With a rolex on one wrist and set of bright white teeth smiling right at you, there’s no mistaking he belongs in one of these suites.

You wonder what he thinks of you and your frayed sweater, no jewellery on your wrists.

He nods, politely, and raises his own glass towards you. A silent cheer, a recognition that you’re both here, living life in luxury. You meet it, raise your own glass, and try to smile as brightly as him.

Then knock back your second drink and saunter back inside.

“Miss, there’s been no mistake.”

In spite of it being an excuse to hang up, you stay true to your word.

Come early noon, you’re standing within the help centre. Against all odds, accidental nap and wild goose chase upon the ship deck be damned, you’ve found what you were looking for.

Or, well, an older woman with sweet smile on her face and a squinted nametag pinned to her chest found it, pointed you in the direction of the ship’s atrium. What you’re looking for is the Purser’s Office, dear.

“See? The booking under your name lists you as part of our excelsior guests.” The desk clerk turns her screen towards you, acrylic nail pointing at your booking information. Sure enough, in bold letters, your full name accompanied by a golden badge at the end. Excelsior Status, checkmarked and approved by the cruise. “This grants you access to one of our excelsior suites and all private excelsior lounges.”

In all honesty, you’re tuning her out a little.

You don’t mean to, sincerely, but you’re just so caught up in reading both your name and excelsior suite, over and over and over again, that you forget to really listen, mind running just a few seconds behind the speed of her mouth.

When you finally process what she’s saying, all you can manage is dumbstruck look on your face and a muttered, “oh.”

Paper rustles as your hands wring, the pristine pamphlet you’d been flicking through to fill the time as she’d searched up your details now rumpled, thin white cracks of paper peaking out beneath printed ink.

“I also see that you’ve added the excelsior tour package onto your booking, though I’m willing to change that for you, if you’d prefer signing onto one of our team tours instead.” Confused by her offer, you glance down and read over the pamphlet’s title- All-Aboard Tour Trips, Fun for all the Family! “Would you like to hear what your current tour package grants you?”

“If,” as if you’ve not embarrassed yourself enough with your cluelessness towards your own booking, your voice cracks under the pressure of being used, more squeak than actual intelligible words. You swallow back the lump of shame in your throat and push through. “If you don’t mind, please. This, uh- The ticket, it was a gift, so I’m just a little out of the loop of what’s been booked for me.”

“Not at all! So, the excelsior tour package gives you access to your own private tour-guide, for all seven stops we’ll be making on this cruise!” Already, you feel a little queasy at the thought. A private tour, no one but you and some stranger. It’s not exactly your dream scenario. “Your guide’s purpose won’t just be to walk you through all the memorable sites, but to curate your visits to your liking, helping you explore foreign land with a familiar taste. Where the tours in team are restricted to allocated timeslots and a set route of sites to visit, having a private tour-guide grants you the privilege of exploring where you want, for however long you want. The private tour also provides more time for you at each stop, as your timeslot to board will be the latest available, making your whole trip less of rush and more of a thrill.”

The clerk, without a doubt in your mind, is quoting a script she’s already said hundreds of time- word for word, beat for beat. Yet her voice is animated, her smile is kind, and you admire her a little for getting through it without a single laugh at the corniness of it all.

You, however, fail the challenge, glancing off to your side and biting back a giggle that you hope she takes no note of. The last thing you want is for her to mistake the laughter as directed towards her.

Weighing your options, you nervously ask, “but, you could change me over to a team tour?”

She says of course, with a smile that doesn’t waver, and the tension in your shoulders lessens, the ice cold feeling of inconveniencing her melting away at her warmth.

Her nails clack as she types away on her keyboard. A double click and then, a hiss. She’s no longer smiling, a grimace taking it place. “I’m sorry, but all of our tours are fully booked.”

“Oh. That’s- It’s okay.”

“But, I could add you to the waiting list! If there’s any cancelations for any of the stops, you’ll be the first to know. This won’t affect your excelsior tour package, so either way you’ll have some kind of guide.”

With nothing to lose, you figure why not and let her throw your name in the metaphorical hat.

Mid-typing away, eyes glued to her screen, you watch as her brows shoot up. “Oh, while I’ve got you here, there’s one more thing. With our excelsior guides, it’s customary that they meet with you on the first night, to touch base on simple things, like your interests or any goals for this trip, and to plan out tomorrow’s official first stop, which is in Santorini. Your guide has left you this, detailing where you’ve to meet him.”

With renewed hesitation, you grab at the folded note she slips over the desk. It’s small, with half an inked fingerprint burnt into the top left corner.

As you thank her for her help and bid her goodbye, she interrupts you before you can turn to leave.

“I know private tours can seem daunting but, you’re in good hands. Joel will take care of you, he’s our top-rated guide.”

The note remains folded as long as you can control your curiosity, which appears to be only until you’re back on the deck, sun shinning directly in your eyes and forcing you to squint as you read over faded blank ink.

10 pm, the Tipsy Byson bar.

Below that, in a bolder blue ink, wear something green for me to find you, JM.

You’re awfully overdressed, and painfully aware of it.

The Tipsy Byson is nestled between the arcade and the casino, a balance of childlike shrieks harmonizing over outraged yelling of men cheated out of their hands. Brown wood lines just about every inch of the place, from the walls, to the tables, to the bar. There’s an outrageously large Stars and Stripes flag hanging on the wall, and memorabilia of all things Texas Roadhouse. The place is themed, down to the cowboy hat that sits atop the bartender’s head, and clearly everyone is aware of this, decked out in scruffed up boots and worn out denim vests.

Everyone but you, dark green silk clinging to you in the shape of a laced-back midi dress, dainty black heels tucked into the footrest of the barstool you occupy.

It’s the only green thing you brought and- wear something green for me to find you- you’d had no choice.

It was a quarter to ten when you got there, earlier than you were requested, but a gentle buzz of something shooting through your nervous system left you impatient, unable to wander the ship’s halls any longer.

It was fine, you figured, gave you a chance to get a drink, cool your nerves a little. Sticking with the theme of green, you’d yelled over the line music for a midori sour, please, and even cracked a little smile at the cute bartender.

By twenty past ten, you’re still alone, no tour-guide in sight, and your glass is empty, a sole ice-cube all that remains. You order another glass, given him another smile, and return your eyes to the entryway as you sip back the taste of the dewy melon goodness.

The doors opened, your hopes rise and- a couple walks through the door, adorably dressed in matching jackets.

Another sip.

The doors open again, this time you watch as a few women walk in, party hats and bachelorette signs dripping off them.

Half your drink, gone again.

Two, three, four more times the door opens and you watch as strangers filter in and out, pretending you don’t notice the way some of their eyes linger on you, sticking out like a sore thumb.

It’s as you throw back the last sip of your cocktail, eyes catching the time- 22:36-, that you watch a grin overtake the bartender’s face.

The door shuts with a slam, buried beneath the layers of stomping feet across the dance floor and the twang of a country song, yet you hear it all the same, twisting in the stool.

A man stands by the entry, salt-and-peppered hair a little tousled and a scowl etched into his forehead. He moves like water, slipping through the cracks in the crowded bar with minimal effort. All the while, eyes seem to follow him, the occasional head turning in his direction. He spares no glances, to anyone.

Instead, he’s staring right at you.

And heading your way, frown and all.

There’s something in his face that feels familiar, and you swear that this is not the first time you’d stared into those eyes. Broad, scruffy facial hair, his irritation as some drunk girl slams into him so palpable, you almost taste it on your tongue.

You mumble something to the bartender, a request for another drink, a parched feeling stirring in your loins.

He’s inching closer, and closer, and closer- and, only as he’s a mere three bar stools away from you, do you realise who he is.

You’re in the way.

Signore Miller.

The rude man from the airport!

God, you can’t wait to see what this is about. He must recognise you, must feel the shame licking at his wounded ego, driving him to come over, apologise, beg for forgiveness to a stranger he unnecessarily berated.

“Look what the cat dragged in!” It’s not Signore Miller that speaks, nor is it you. It’s the bartender, arms crossing over his chest, smirk widening on his face. “Thought you said last season was your last!”

“You know me,” his eyes are still glued to you, an intense stare, even as he replies. There’s so little space between you now, you manage to notice the wrinkles in his flannel shirt. You choose to ignore the fact it’s green. “Ain’t no good at stayin’ away from the things I hate.”

“Wasn’t what you were saying at the staff party last year, Mr. Blubber-face. Took two whiskeys to get you crying ‘bout how you were gonna miss the cruising life.”

Another midori sour lands your way, yet you don’t even manage a single sip of it before he’s opening his mouth.

“Well look at you, all dressed up with nowhere to go,” his eyes still pierce into your own and, this time, it is you he’s talking to.

You’d have half the mind to throw your drink on him, if it weren’t for the fact you’re too busy taking a stabilizing gulp out of it, a sweetness to counter-attack his sour persona.

“Excuse me?!” You final sputter out, face burning too hot and pride too scorned to begin to feel even more out of place.

He seems unfazed by your outrage, turning away from you to acknowledge his friend behind the bar at last. “Do me a favour, Luke, don’t give her too much to drink.” Condescending tone perfectly intact, Signore Miller doubles down on your initial impression of him: an absolute asshole. “Last thing I need is to spend all day draggin’ around some prissy hungover diva.”

The man- Luke- scoffs back a laugh, shaking his head in bewilderment. “Quit teasin’ the poor girl, ‘fore she runs for the hills and ruins your five-star rating.”

An uncomfortable feeling creeps down your spine. It’s cold and alarming, and has your straightening your back, sitting a little tenser in your seat, realization rising in you like the dawn.

It can’t be.

He can’t be-

He’s stepping all in your space, face leaning down till his mouth is at the level of your ear. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t even come close to it, yet there’s goosebumps littering your arms and hairs standing at the back of your neck.

Like touching a live wire, his proximity feels electric.

“Best be on that deck by 7 am, darlin’, or I’ll be dockin’ without ya.”

“Wait, you’re-”

“Joel, tourguide. At your service.” He’s pulled back, just to thrust his hand in your face. By the time you reach to shake it, he’s retracting it, that grating quirk in his lips moving higher up his cheek. “Oh, and do yourself a favour. Wear somethin’ a little more… practical. Santorini ain’t the place for dainty heels like those.”

You knock back the rest of your drink moments after he leaves, only to find Luke’s already placed a fourth glass at your side.

“Our little secret,” he faux-whispers, pressing a finger to his pursed lips. “Besides, you look like you could use it.”

Signore Miller.

Joel, tourguide.

Joel Miller.

He’s already making your trip unbearable, and it’s hardly begun.

+ extra hyde. sorry if that was a little boring it was a necessary part to get the ball moving, i promise chapter two gets right into it. again, updates to this fic happen every other friday! i'm bad at describing spaces, so if anyone is curious to know what reader's suite looks like, here are some reference pics:

taglist. @auteurdelabre

#joel miller series #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #pedro pascal smut #joel miller fanfic

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kodydrs · 5 months

Text

The Vice-Admiral’s Daughter - Portgas D. Ace (final / IV)

a/n: IT HAS ARRIVED!! I’ve had AOT brainrot for the last month so I’m actually surprised a finished this today. But it is what it is. I changed the name from “the first time” bc the ending fits better with the new name. anyways, enjoy lol

warnings: fxm, ace x fem!reader, pirate!ace x marine!fem!reader, smut, mdni, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), fingering, thighs kisses (🫶🏻), not proofread, i’m bad at tagging

request: yes / no

ib: none

You’d last seen Ace in the dark hours of the night, and apparently your pirate boyfriend wanted to make it a trend.

The sound of soft tapping on glass woke you, followed by your window freaking open. At first you panicked, until you saw a familiar spark of light illuminating his face.

‘Hey, princess.’ Ace whispers, standing in your window. You know he can see your look of disgust. The look wasn’t caused by him being here. More the time, and his constantly bad timing.

‘Ace. What the fuck? My dad is literally 2 rooms away.’ You curse, standing quickly to try push him out of the window. He stumbles slightly, nearly falling had he not wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

‘Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. I’m glad to see you too.’ His laugh echos of your walls and you’re quickly to slap a hand over his mouth, bringing your other to his lips. He looks at you, up and down then frowns. ‘You never wear long pajamas.’

His voice is muffled, but not muffled enough that you can’t make it out. More muffled enough that no one else can hear him.

‘It’s been cold lately. It is winter after all.’ You huff, straightening out your long pants. Confusion still morphs his face, but he seems to brush it off.

With little to no effort, he lifts you onto his hip, your legs instinctively wrapping around him, and walks you both over to your bed. Against your will, your body keens into him, his body heat enveloping you.

You’re staring at the ceiling a minute later, lips pulled in a straight line as your boyfriend rubs his face into your collarbone and jaw.

‘You’re like a freaking cat.’ You hiss, adjusting the arm his head is resting on. He laughs at your remark, and you swear you hear him purring a few seconds later.

Despite the genuine annoyance that he’s unsafe in your house at the current moment, you adjust your arm, pulling him closer to you. He breathes quietly, peppering kisses onto your neck.

‘That’s more like my girl.’ His voice is soft and warm, gently fanning your skin. The arms around your waist tighten, and you finally fold, rolling onto your side to wrap both arms around his neck.

‘Whatever.’

You’re looking at him, memorising all his features as he hands travel your body, leaving no part untouched. Lips reconnect with your neck, kissing up to your earlobe.

‘Do you want me in you now or later?’

Your face spreads into a smile, pressing your foreheads together.

‘I knew you didn’t just wanna cuddle.’

He also grins, shuffling up so you’re face to face.

‘I gotta at least pretend I’m not here just because I missed the sex.’ He teases, hands brushing against your waist, lips on lips. A giggle feels the room, and it’s only then you remember where you are. A hand quickly covers his mouth and the other brings a finger to your lips.

‘We have to be quiet, baby. If we get caught, you’ll be executed.’

‘Not with my trusty “Vice-Admiral’s daughter by my side.’ His voice is muffled by your hand, but you still make out what he’s saying. ‘But I’ll try my best to stay quiet. I promise.’

Large, calloused hands wrap around your wrist, pulling your restrictions away and pressing kissing to your palms. Kisses trace down your skin to your neck, the pirate leaving purple love bites on your jaw.

You moan lowly, hands running through his black strands.

‘What’s that moan for?’ He tantalised. ‘I haven’t even done anything yet.’ To emphasise his words, his hand runs along your torso, dipping past your waistband.

A soft sigh pushes your breath against his skin.

‘I want you to fuck me so bad right now.’

His eyes widen in surprise but he quickly recovers, grinning from ear to ear.

‘Damn, I adore you when you’re honest.’ He holds your hips and rolls, pushing you down onto the bed to crawl over top of you. Your hands follow him, stroking his sides with the back of your fingers. The ticklish feeling pulls a laugh from the pirate. He leans next to your ear.

‘Quite the flirt, aren’t ya?’

‘Always. Just for you.’

He smirks, kissing your cheek and just simply resting there for a few seconds.

It was soft moments like this that truly made you consider running off to sea with him. You missed every minute where you could be together but you aren’t.

‘Don’t worry, my love.’ He whispers. ‘I’m gonna make sure you’re satisfied in every way possible.’

The sound of metal on leather makes your insides twist and your back arches to the ceiling when cold air surrounds your legs. Cold air which is quickly replaced by a warm heat running up and down them.

‘You ok?’ He asks, fingers tracing your thighs before dipping between them. You whinge slightly, holding him. ‘Tell me if you’re not.’

‘I’m ok.’ You whisper, pulling his face to press your foreheads together. He slowly starts pumping his fingers out of you, and your teeth meet your lips, soft moans filling the space between you both.

Ace whispered quiet affirmations in your ear, telling you good of a girl you were, and how perfect you are.

‘You’re the love of my life, and I miss you when you’re not around.’ His fingers scissor inside you, and it takes a hand over your mouth to not cry out. Ace looks at you, eyes widened for a second before they squint to smile. ‘You’re so easy to please.’ He teases, bringing his cum-soaked fingers to his mouth.

You cringe, covering your face as a burning blush paints it.

‘I can’t believe you just did that.’ He laughs, kissing your neck to add to his already many decorations. He pulls your hands away, tracing circles on your palm with his thumb.

‘Are you ready, or do you want me to prep you more?’

You nod, finding comfort in his touch.

‘I’m ready.’ Your voice is barely above a whisper, and you can’t imagine how he’d heard you. But he did, and slowly he aligned himself before sliding into you, stretching your walls. Your lewd moans are silenced by a hand over your mouth. Even with prep, it felt like you were being torn apart. You lock eyes with your boyfriend, vision blurred from tears. Soft lips kiss over your face, comforting you into adjustment.

‘You tell me when I’m ok to move. And if you want to stop, just tell me. Ok, baby?’

You nod, hiccuping. You reach around, finding his hand and intertwining them. For a minute you just lay like this, cockwarming him. With a deep sigh, you lean up into his neck.

‘You can move now.’ You whisper, nipping at his earlobe. A smile presses to your cheek as he slowly drags his hips back, then snaps them forwards. A high moan echoes through your room, and you both stop, listening to see if anyone heard. When there was no sign of movement in the house, you nodded and Ace repeated the motion. You bit your lip harshly, most likely drawing blood as he ploughed into you.

If nothing else drove you crazy (but believe me, everything Ace did drove you mad), then the way he groaned into your ear was definitely it. Nothing got you more turned on.

‘Do you want me to cum in you or out?’ He groaned, pressing his forehead against yours.

‘W-Whatever you want.’ You pant, feeling your nails bluntly scratch his back.

The soft whimper that comes from him almost makes you release right there and then. He felt your walls clench around him, and a tired laugh escaped.

‘Holy fuck. You sound so good when you make noises.’ You say, arching your spine as a knot forms in your lower abdomen. ‘Such pretty noises for me.’

‘Oh shut the fuck up.’ A bit of teasing didn’t hurt. Over the past year-ish, teasing had become your love language. Not so much when it came to intimacy, but more just in everyday life.

‘Fuck. I’m gonna cum.’

‘Hold it a second.’

‘God, Ace. Please.’ Your nails were drawing blood now. Not a crazy amount, but enough to make him hiss. With a few harsh thrusts, you felt the knot snap, sending you over the edge, and it’s not long before your boyfriend joins you, planting his cum deep inside you.

Your mouth falls open in a silent moan while Ace bites down hard on your shoulder, a muffled grunt coming from him.

He slowly gets you both through your highs, moving lazily inside of you. With tired eyes, he pulls away to look at your face, bringing a hand to soothe where you’d been bitten.

‘Sorry.’ He whispered, seeing how deep his teeth marks went. You shook your head, bringing a hand to his face.

‘It doesn’t hurt.’

You both wince as he pulls out of your wet cunt, flopping beside you, your body wrapped tightly in his arms. You nuzzled against his chest, feeling sticky and disgusting, but not having enough energy to clean yourself up. Neither of you had enough energy, and still Ace groaned and stood, moving to your door.

‘Wait.’ You whisper-shouted. ‘My dad-‘

‘I’ll stay hidden. Where’s the bathroom?’

You hesitated, but if he’d been able to get away for this long, then he must be good at hiding.

‘First door on the right.’ He disappeared for a minute or 2, returning with a wet cloth and a glass. ‘Thank you.’

He was gentle in the way he cleaned you, washing your thighs and planting soft kisses on them as he did so before cleaning your pussy. He kissed just above where your shorts had sat, before quickly cleaning himself and disappearing out the door again. You waited patiently for him to return, crawling into his body heat the minute he hit your bed.

‘You know.’ He whispered, playing with your hair. ‘If you came out to sea with me, then we wouldn’t have to worry about anyone hearing us. Or finding us even.’

You rest your chin on his chest, looking at his brown eyes.

‘I want to Ace.’ You start. ‘But an Vice-Admiral's daughter becoming a pirate would ruin lives.’

‘How so? My brother did it.’

‘But it was Luffy’s grandfather, and no one knew him as Garp’s grandson. I’m known as the Vice-Admiral's daughter.’

‘I know. But we could get you a new name. You aren’t bound to the one you were born with when you’re at sea.’

You sighed, closing your eyes.

‘I love you, Portgas D. Ace. And some day, I might become a pirate with you. But for now, I can’t. So you go off on your dreams, and I’ll wait here patiently for you. Ok?’

There was a sense of sadness in Ace’s eyes, but he smiled nonetheless, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. You chased his lips, pressing them against your own chastely.

It didn’t take long for you to drift off to sleep, the rise and fall of his chest, along with his heartbeat soothing you into slumber.

Like the last time, you awoke to no Ace. Only the sun coming through your currents, and a soft breeze coming through your window. It saddened you, but it was reality.

You didn’t see Ace again. You didn’t even hear about his death until long after it happened. And for some reason, you didn’t cry. You didn’t feel sad at all. For some reason, you laughed. Maybe it was because you’d never dealt with that kind of grief, or maybe because he didn’t have to run anymore. Whatever the reason was, it didn’t matter. He was gone, and you were still the Vice-Admiral’s daughter.

taglist: @rotin0

all rights and reserves are copyright to kodydrs on tumblr. this material is not to be copied or translated.

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tojivu · 5 months

Text

love, kisses & croissants ⋆ naoya zenin

an. naoya you've infiltrated my brain.... ib the song where the lyrics go "i love you i love you i love you"

cw. sfw. naoya is kind of an asshole. gn!reader, but not proofread so please lmk any gender references if i made any.

playing. because she goes by the 1975.

naoya zenin would press kisses onto the soft, supple skin of your cheek as soon as he wakes. no good morning, no stretch — he reaches and bends from where he is to let his lips latch onto you.

two kisses later and he's finally greeting you, whether you're awake or not.

"morning." his voice is raspy, throat dry from the cold air of the bedroom you two shared. he brings his fingers to brush the stray hairs away from your face.

how naoya loves your expression when you sleep: an overwhelming need to hold and kiss you, make you feel as comfortable as possible so you can continue your slumber — how he finds you prettiest when you're unaware of it.

your eyelids flutter as the sunlight seeping in through the curtains sting; a long exhale leaves your lungs and you find yourself inching closer to naoya — who was warm amidst the temperature of the room.

he lays face up, shirt nowhere to be found (as usual). your husband was always one to show off even when sleeping — you're able to feel his skin graze your fingertips, some spots more prominent than others due to scarring: you've memorised the position of each and every one of them on his body.

"morning, naoya." you smile lazily at the man under your touch. he doesn't smile back, but you think the way his arm pulls you closer says everything his face doesn't.

naoya zenin was a puzzle, most days — it took you a long time before you could even touch him without earning a complaint or an irritated expression.

"stop touching me." a grunt and an eye roll, every single time.

it was the night after your wedding. you remember it vividly, the order of events engrained into your mind and heart. you never want to forget the hour that naoya let you love him.

it wasn't much, and you think if you told anyone that they might laugh in your face: most couples would scoff and say that the first kiss should have happened long before the knot was tied.

you think you would've gone the whole marriage without any touching. before the ceremony, naoya would only let you hold his hands or fix his tie — mundane things that held no passion — or maybe very little, not enough to remind you both you were to be married.

it was naoya who pulled you in that night, hands on your hips as he pressed his lips onto yours. it's inexperienced, and you want to giggle but you know you can't (due to the crowd and family attending the ceremony). it would be much too embarrassing for your husband.

when he pulls away, his lips are glossy and his eyes are enlarged — as if he's never experienced this feeling before.

it's just then that naoya zenin realises he loves kissing you. the feeling of your lips so close to his skin, the feeling of laying on clouds when he tastes your favourite lip balm. the feeling of you.

he felt embarrassed that his clan witnessed such a thing. naoya's weak in the knees in front of you, someone who was nowhere near his power or authority. he finds it annoying just how much control you have over him, but he thinks it's okay — for now — as long as you don't betray him.

he hopes you don't.

naoya doesn't bother saying a word in the morning, only kissing you where he feels you need to be — your forehead, wrist, cheek, lips, jaw, neck.

the small discovery he made on the night you two got married had his mornings set for life: a kiss as soon as he woke, a gentle 'morning' followed by another kiss. he's hooked.

sometimes he returns all bloodied from brawls: wounded but still the victor, dragging himself into the home he shares with you (and the servants he keeps around) — naoya appreciates your warm embrace and the soft kisses you pepper on his face. you complain about how he smells like metal, but you hold him anyway.

"[name]," naoya snaps you out of your reminiscing-like daydream. "we should go out for breakfast today."

you roll your eyes at the fact that this is what your husband stopped your trip down memory lane for.

"we have chefs for a reason, naoya." you remind him, as if he doesn't know that already — he orders them around almost all the time, mostly due to your random cravings.

"i know."

"then?" you ask, "i thought you hated being around random people."

"i don't like being around lowlives," he clarifies. "but we could spend some time together. if you want."

"if i want?" you giggle, poking at his cheeks. this would've gotten you killed if you were with the naoya you knew all those years ago. "i didn't know you cared about what i want."

"don't act like that." naoya's grip around your waist tightens, your stomach pressing against the side of his abdomen. "just say yes or no. i'm a very busy man."

"are you making space for me in your tight schedule, busy naoya?" you tease. his ears burn a bright shade of red, and he tuts. "i'm feeling really special. you're so good to me."

"cause you are," naoya admits. how vulnerable he seemed that it made him feel like throwing up. "[name]."

naoya zenin was a puzzle, yes, but you think he's gotten easier to solve by now. a kiss and some praise and he's all set, sarcastic or not — whatever you say has him weak in the knees. it's almost scary how much power you hold.

"i love you, my busy man," your hands cup his cheeks and turn his head towards you, and you press a quick kiss onto his lips. "i'm thinking about croissants."

you earn a flustered naoya, cheeks reddened and eyebrows furrowed to hide his crystal clear expression. he was starting to feel his heart pound.

"we can get croissants. i know a good place."

"it's probably expensive, then." you roll your eyes.

"who do you think i am?"

"my dearest husband." you flirt. it hurts to be so cheesy this early in the morning, but you think it's okay because it's got naoya blushing like a tomato.

he doesn't say anything. naoya is fighting the deafening sound of his heartbeat in his ears and the electricity he feels flowing through his veins, along with the smile creeping up on his face.

"i love you," he replies a minute later.

"i never knew you were a romantic, naoya."

"i love you," he repeats, as if you're losing your hearing. "i love you."

the words flow like water. it's a disgusting phrase he never thought he'd utter, but here he is — repeating it like a prayer to you.

"i heard you the first time." you giggle again, running your fingers through his hair. "loud and clear."

"i love you, [name]," he mumbles as his eyes get gentler by the second, his gaze softening the more you play with his locks. he thinks he'll fall back asleep any moment now. "i love you so much."

"i know, naoya," you assure him, head drawing closer to his to peck his forehead. "and i love you more."

"you can beat me in very little things, [name]." naoya replies, eyes blinking slowly at yours. "this isn't included."

"i beat you at wii that one time. you're terrible at wii golf."

"i play real golf," he scoffs. "not in some video game for children. it's harder in real life."

"such a sore loser."

you suppose you're a sore loser, too. you'd never be able to beat him at the 'i love you' game — he'd never let you — but that didn't mean you couldn't try.

you've got plenty of time, anyway.

041223 — Bue i'm gonna cry this is so ?!??? idk what this even IS

#naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya fluff #naoya zenin fluff #naoya zenin x reader fluff #naoya x reader fluff #naoya zenin #naoya #jjk naoya #jjk naoya x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff

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inkblot-inc · 1 year

Note

Fury and Hill come to realize pretty quickly that their orders mean basically nothing to Jaws. There’s nothing they can threaten jaws with either to get them to comply. But simply asking Natasha or Wanda if they could get Jaws to do it will always get them results. Jaws might be dramatic and grumble a bit but they would do it. That’s why 95% of Jaws’ missions have Natasha or Wanda on the team as well.

mhm precisely

There's not much you can do to intimidate Jaws into doing something they don't plan on doing themselves.

It took two times when Jaws was finally able to go on missions for them to be like, "Well this is gonna be an issue."

You had an instance where Jaws is just beating a target till their two inches from death for information even though they're a public figure and their instructions were to incapacitate him and bring him in for questioning.

The thing is: Jaws is efficient at getting the job done, it's the specifics of what they have to do that they pass over. "Let's skip the song and dance. I can get the answers you want right now, gimme five minutes."

Jaws works best in strike missions or those with high threat level since they get shit done. Jaws definitely has to be with Natasha or Wanda for something like and intelligence or recon mission though. Again, you wanna guarantee Jaws will listen? Bring Natasha and/or Wanda *shrugs*

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lew9ndowski · 5 months

Text

❦ hotel.

| jude bellingham x fem! reader.

| watching a movie in your hotel room, until you hear a knock at your door.

| ib , hotel by montell fish

you stood up from the hotel couch, and paused the movie before it could begin, you go to the kitchen and grab your popcorn box, you grab a bag and put it inside the microwave, while you waited for the popcorn, you leaned on the counter, replying to your unread messages, most of them being from your sister, asking you how you were doing during your vacation. she was taking care of your dog too, so most of the messages were of him. “it’s so quiet here, i like it, but i’m about to watch a movie.” you texted your sister, she immediately replied “okay, that’s nice, also, remember to send pictures of the hot guys you see and most importantly, text me if you met one…” you roll your eyes and scoff. “stfu, i’m not here to focus on guys.” that was kind of a lie, because the guy on the counter to check into the hotel was kind of… “k.” she replied. you chuckle and place your phone down as you hear the ringing of the microwave.

you take the bag of popcorn out of the microwave and open it, pouring the snack on the only bowl you could find in your hotel kitchen, you open a soda from the set you bought earlier at the store and take the bowl, you head to the couch and set everything up in the coffee table, you grab the remote and resume the movie.

you’re in spain right now, taking a small trip away from your problems at home, spain has always been your favorite country to travel to, you love everything about it, there are some things, here and there, but you’re just glad you could be here and enjoy a little bit of everything.

you’re halfway into the film and you’re about to drift off to sleep, you were “resting” your eyes, until you hear a knock at your door, you groan and curse under your breath, you look at the time, and it’s about to be 3 am, you furrow your eyebrows, but then remember the people here don’t know what sleep is. you walk to the door and unlock it, you should’ve looked through the peephole, but since you’re nearly asleep, why would you?

“yes?” you croak, the bright yellow light of the hotel’s hallway almost blinding you. you see a ball heading your way, until the man standing in front of your door catches it “you ladies, alright?” you shoot the boys in your sight a dirty look “what the fuck?!” the boy with the ball turns to look at you and immediately straightens himself. “hey…” his voice was soft and he had a small smile on his face as he waited for your response. “how old are you? four?” you scoff and were about to close the door, until he stops it. “hey, hey… i’m sorry, my mates and i just wanted to do this tiktok trend.” i nod and lick my lips. “okay, fine, just don’t do that again, shit scared me.” you take your eyes off of him and look at his mates, they all nod and raise their hands in defense, asking for your forgiveness.

“we’re sorry.” he grimaces. “it’s fine.” you shake your head, “no, no, really, what we did was messed up, how can i make it up to you?” you tilt your jaw and raise an eyebrow, you look at his team mates and they’re all looking at each other awkwardly. “i said it’s fine bro, don’t worry.” you chuckle. “yeah, you heard the lady, she said it’s fine.” he shushes him loudly, you cock your head back, he maintains eye contact and you start to look around uncomfortably. “you can leave now…” you smile and since he didn’t say anything, you begin to close the door slowly, and when it was inches away from closing, you whisper a soft “bye bye…” you close it and sputter, rolling your eyes before you head back to the couch.

“my god she is stunning.” he turns to his mates with a wide smile. “she is.” his mate agreed, “too bad you’ll never see her again.” his other mate speaks up. “says who?” his mate shrugs and he shakes his head. “nah, i’ll do something about it.” his friends share a look, “mate, that sounds creepy.” they head back to their hotel room.

the bright sun, forced your eyes to open, your brain to wake up, and your body to stand, you sit up from the couch and stretch, followed by a yawn, you look at your phone and check the time, it’s still pretty early. you stand up from the couch and do your exercises, after that, you do your personal hygiene and get ready to go out, you put on your outfit, grab your stuff, and head out. you held the door open to look for your rental car keys, and then focus on something on the floor, you raise your eyebrows and pick it up, it’s a rose and a card. “the hell?” you read the front page of the letter and flipped it open. “we’re sorry for that little prank, here’s this from us (especially the handsome, tall one that saved you from the ball) we hope to see you again, under different circumstances, of course.” at the bottom of the words, there was a phone number. “no way..” you laugh softly and put the rose back inside the hotel room, but put the letter on your purse.

as you were walking around the streets of spain, you found a cute coffee shop, and decided to sit outside and get something to drink, along with a snack. you sat outside, admiring the view, fiddling with your fingers and fighting the cold breeze. your mind starts to drift to your fellow prankster of a neighbor. was that his number on the letter? you think. should i call? nah, i should leave him alone. why did he give me his number? i shake my head, wanting to get those thoughts away as soon as possible, but before you could, you text your sister about it. she was asking all the possible questions on earth.

once she stopped replying, you set your phone down, beginning to get anxious if you should call the number or not, if my coffee comes in less than ten seconds, i’ll call him. you thought to yourself. ten seconds? try three, that’s all it took, the waiter placed your coffee and croissant softly on the table, your mouth stays agape and you softly chuckle. “gracias.” you say with a slight tone to the waiter, but try to disguise it with a nice smile. “fuck!” you curse to yourself and grab your phone, you open the phone app and dial the number on the letter, the cold class hits your ear and you begin to shake your leg up and down, the repeated ringing beginning to stress you out.

after what felt like forever, you hear a lot of noise, the sounds of someone yelling names, laughing, and someone picking up the phone “aye, jude! someone’s calling you, mate.” you hear someone shout, then you hear another voice over the phone. “hello?” you smile as you hear his familiar voice. “hey! hey, it’s me, the girl from the hotel room?” you bite your lip, patiently waiting for his response. “oh! hey, i take it you got my rose and letter?” you chuckle. “yes, i did, i should probably let you know that, i don’t really like roses.” you hear him groan out loud. “well, now i know for a future occasion.” you raise an eyebrow and begin to sip your coffee. “oh? i love your confidence, jude. that’s your name, right?” he chuckles. “hell yeah… and yours?”

“you said you wanted to see each other again under different circumstances, right? so, how about you come find out later tonight?” you just can’t believe you said that, your heart was racing, but the boldness you were feeling, you loved it. “got a special place in mind?” he questions, you hum. “no, not really, do you?” you now ask him. “i do, i can take you..” you gulp, the tone in his voice making butterflies hit your stomach, “i can do that myself, just tell me where…” he tells you the directions, it’s supposedly the best restaurant in the whole city, so, you were excited. as you finished talking with him, you set your phone down and hide your face.

oh mY fucKingGg GodDddd.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham oneshot #jude bellingham x you #lowkey thinking about making this a series idk

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slothpoth · 10 months

Text

Uncanny Vash and Knives Hcs

I just finished TriMax like— today so now I feel more comfortable being Public with hcs

TW: Body horror and the like

I’m gonna format this by saying overall hcs and then getting specific on how both of them treat/adapt to these hcs and what personal differences they have

Duo Headcannons

Every time their voicebox reopens their voice takes on a different tone

Most of the time it’s imitating voices they’ve heard in the past, sometimes it’s a weird amalgamation of them creating a new voice.

For example when they only knew Rem their voices would sometimes go a bit too high pitched like it’s their original voice mixed with Rem or just straight up Rem

Their eyes are very glassy and doll-like

I won’t say life less because they can still emote but I think when they’re at rest it’d be very like IB/ Mad Father Doll Room Tease

I’m playing with the idea of them not blinking but I wanna make it freakier somehow so maybe they blink inconsistently? Like one eye will blink every hour and the other every two hours?

The surface of their skin is always feels like there’s an electric current underneath, like you touch their arm and they have buzzies

Independents in general start off looking very uncanny as a newborn, grow into a child that looks very human, and as they rapidly age they start to become more plant like again (got inspo for this from possuminatrenchcoat_27 on tiktok)

This could possibly be a newer adaptation after what happened with Tesla assuming that Tesla is the first instance of an independent/ the first instance of an vs independent getting brutalized like that.

When they get antsy or any high tension you’d be able to see their respective abilities kind of…..moving under their skin

When the tension or emotion gets too much they start to like leak whatever their thing is, think “Hikaru” from The Summer Hikaru Died

When they bleed it’s a mixture of blood of sometimes a feather or a leaf or two

Viewing their “human” visages as a sort of disguise, I’d like to assume they can change colors

And by change colors I mean change how saturated or unsaturated their skin, hair, nails, and other organic parts are

Like if they do choose they can have the brightest teeth none to man and plant

Speaking of teeth, they can choose how many, how little, how long, how short, and what order their teeth are in

Also!! Incredible muscle control, like thinks Fox in a trap, rather than knaw off their leg they simply move and contract the muscle (and possibly bone) until they can slip out

They can photosynthesize but when they do it’s very obvious and very ominous

Like imagine one of them standing looking up, neck limp head back, eyes wide and unfocused slightly rolled back, jaw slack, a rumbling coming from the top of their head and from the ground but nowhere inbetween

Their senses are heightened so in high traffic areas they can get overwhelmed easily, especially considering that they spent their developing and adapting years on the ships where the loudest thing was the machine hum

I think it’d be funny if they can make themselves smell like different types of foliage like one day it’s roses the next it’s honeydew the next it’s just grass

Vash Copes

so Mr. Deluxe-Life-Like over here is a hummer

Like he’ll hum and clear his throat and make noises to try a get his speaking voicebox to around a tone that somewhat sounds like him.

He can’t just start randomly talking and sound like Milly! That’d be rude!

So along with the rainforest animal sequence chittering and chattering he’s just, “hmm hrrmm huummm buh…how are doing? Do you feel okay?”

To make up for how his eyes are he wears glasses (of course) but also had figured out how to dilate his eyes in time with what he sees in other people’s emotions (incredible muscle control)

He’ll be purposely very expressive to take as much attention from his eyes as possible so none notices how his eyes look or the blinking issue

Sometimes he’ll make himself blink when he knows he’s being looked at

So when Vash is getting antsy under his skin youll see almost like vines wiggling about underneath, but very inconsistently

Like if you’re looking at his arm you’ll see a long thin vine, that could be mistaken for a vein, jerk around sporadically

When he’s getting very antsy the vine will sprout thorns that’ll push through his skin like water. It won’t leave a wound behind the skin will just fall back together

That’s why he likes the coat so much because you can’t see the things going on under his skin

So like imagine an almost worm like part of his skin being raised that’s jerking around and moving these thorns that just glide through his skin (freaky huh?)

I think Vash would use the color changing thing for comedic effect, like the usual tinting red for blush or embarrassment, stuff like that

Despite having all these options for self customization, I think Vash would keep it pretty human like.

Well— not exactly. He hasn’t been in a place to get the details right so he kinda…fills in the blank spaces with other things!

Like since he hasn’t had the time to peek into someone’s mouth, he has a dog mouth. He’s seen the inside of a dogs mouth lot of times what’s wrong with it? They look cool!

One time him and wolfwood were play fighting and WW had pinned him so Vash started to moved his muscles around to squeeze out and WW got so scared he jumped like a foot in the air and cowered in a corner

Vash doesn’t photosynthesize often because he typically eating so that’s how he gets his energy

But when he’s on the run and another town is a ways away and he’s sooo hungry he just gotta Yknow

one time Meryl and Milly caught up to him while he was doing it and when they approached (after passing once to try to taunt him with water) he jerked out of it in a blink all creepy like

Like they were a yard away from his back and they blinked and now he’s a foot away and facing them all “Hey Ladies!” fym hey ladies bitch move

For his senses I feel like he kind of enjoys being on the run so he’s not constantly overstimulated by all the sounds of towns

Don’t get him wrong he loves towns and people but 24/7 everytime he opened his eyes? He just needs a wee break is all

Smell wise I think he’d keep to a grass kind of scent, it’s all he really knows

So when Meryl or Milly or Wolfwood come up and get personal with him and ask “what are you wearing” after answering cheekily for a while he just goes “nothing, I just smell like this”

Knives Cope

Welcome to the stage Mr. I-Look-Like-This-For-The-Irony and his special talent How Far Can We Push The Human Assumption

One of Knives’ pleasures is seeing how far he can push what he looks and acts like until people start to think he’s not a human

He’s found it’s reasonably far if he’s careful

Voice wise, Knives’ voice really doesn’t change all that often

It gets more erratic based on the people around you and Knives is usually isolated, since he’s not constantly around voices and people like Vash he just has to deal with voice pitching up and down and less imitations

That doesn’t mean it’s never happened

When he and Conrad first teamed up and we’re talking more often about their plans and what’s possible, Conrad thought Knives was warming up and being playful by imitating his voice sometimes

He chuckled once and Knives was like “What’s so funny.” And Conrad brought the voice thing up and Knives was like “That’s unintentional, why would I wanna win your favor I already have it.”

Knives knows his eyes are off putting. He knows very well.

He intentionally makes an overt amount of eye contact until he knows the other person is freaked out

When Knives gets to a point of tension where you can see his blades poking under his skin, he just lets em out

To him it’s his base plant side telling him to free himself of this embarrassing flesh suit so he’s like ah just as nature intended

It could also be why he has the cloak of blades cause he’s always high tension

Back to his stage act, How UnHuman Can We Look Until They Start Actually Thinking I’m Not Human, when it comes to their customization options, Knives likes the keep it just about human

He wants to look like his sisters, but knows he can’t get people to do what he wants if they think he looks too sweet (in his opinion his sisters are adorable)

So he tries to balance both visuals. He’s crazy pale with platinum blonde hair because his sisters are also incredibly pale.

But on the other hand, he keeps himself looking somewhat human because what else to should humanity see at its end but itself?

When he isn’t in public, he likes to look ALOT less human, like biblical Angel.

Knives doesn’t get into situations where he needs to move his muscles around himself to escape anything, the only time he did was when he and Vash were younger and playing around

Unlike Vash, Knives photosynthesizes all the time

He doesn’t like eating, it overwhelms his senses. The sunlight? Oh the sunlight.

Knives feels the same way about the Sun like yearning gays and the moon

He will photosynthesize even if he doesn’t have to, he does it so often he can do it laying down (he looks like a corpse and if you come too close to him while he’s laying there you will get skewered right ways)

Knives remembers more about the flowers Rem showed them and how they smell so usually he’ll choose whichever plant he thinks of first

That’s the end, this took like two days straight there was more in the thinker and reading The Summer Hikaru Died mid way through making it. Can you tell how much I like figuring out how human is human?

#trigun #trigun stampede #trigun vash #trigun knives #trigun nai #trigun stampede vash #trigun stampede knives #trigun stampede nai #trimax #uncanny vash #uncanny knives #uncanny nai #trigun headcanons #trigun stampede headcanons #vash headcanons #knives headcanons #nai headcannons

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phantomtwitch · 9 months

Text

Sooo I wrote a Part 2 for the Everyone Knows AU part of angstfest. (Anything to avoid editing my IB fic right now, apparently)

Part One of this fic is here if you missed it!

Danny sits in the passenger seat of Jazz’s car, leaning his head against the window as his Mom drives them in silence, her hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. His Dad and sister are back at FentonWorks, since his parents insisted it would be best if Danny and his Mom went alone, and it’s been hours since he’s seen any real signs of civilization. The further they travel from home the worse he feels, some nagging sense of discomfort and uneasiness that won’t relent, even as he knows this is to help him.

For over a year and a half, he’s been experiencing fainting spells and blackouts every time there’s a ghost attack. He’s lucky his friends have managed to keep it hidden from his peers at school, since he knows Dash’s bullying would only increase if he knew Danny was so terrified of the ghosts that he fainted every time one appeared. They tried to keep it from his parents, too, with his sister Jazz’s help, even as Danny couldn’t understand why. But every time he thought about telling them in the past, his jaw would lock up and the words would die before he could utter even a single syllable.

Yet now they know. He remembers waking up in the lab, not sure how he made it there, his parents sobbing as Jazz hovered in the corner, arms crossed over her chest as she watched the three of them warily. They said something to him, explained something even as they lectured Jazz, too, about keeping this a secret, but the words slipped from his fingers within minutes, and whatever confession they made was lost to him. But he can remember the fear in their eyes, the way they trembled and shook, and the odd sense that they were afraid of him rather than for him. He can remember asking if he should go to a doctor and the way they paled, adamantly refusing to bring him to anyone for weeks. It’s only now that they’ve finally agreed to bring him to see some specialist way out in Wisconsin.

It used to be that whenever this happened, something would push back in his own subconscious eventually, reassuring him that it was fine, that he was fine, that there was nothing to worry about. It would smother him like a comforter in the middle of a snowstorm, warm and inviting and soft even as it felt entirely too heavy and like he really ought to be outside helping to dig out from the blizzard instead of hiding inside beneath his covers, but he still let it, the embrace too kind and safe for him to push back against. But this time he could not forget, not when his parents flinched every time he entered a room, not when they seemed so afraid even after so many weeks. Danny wishes he knew what he did wrong, what they fear about him, why they seem to almost hate him at times. It hurts, the ache so intense that there are moments when he swears something within him is fracturing and slowly crumbling to pieces, and he hopes this specialist can help repair whatever’s been broken.

When they finally arrive, though, it’s not at a doctor’s office but a massive mansion. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow.

“I’m sure,” she insists as she unbuckles her seatbelt while Danny steps out of the car. Despite the bright colors and decor, something in him uncurls in his gut like a snake, rearing back and ready to strike, and Danny shivers as he fights back against the odd sensation.

The man who greets them is tall with silver hair pulled back into an elegant ponytail tied with a red silk ribbon that probably costs more than Danny’s entire wardrobe. He’s wearing a dark black suit and red tie, and the way he smiles reminds Danny of a crocodile or a shark. It’s as if he’s slime given form and Danny shudders.

“Hello, Vlad,” says Mom.

“My dearest Maddie,” he says, kissing his mother on both cheeks. “How lovely to see you after so long. And what a pleasure to meet you, young Daniel. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.” He offers him his hand and Danny shakes it, barely resisting the urge to pull away immediately since the man’s grip is too hot, like fire burns beneath his fingertips. A small, absurd part of him wonders if he’s the devil, if his parents are planning to make some terrible deal (or admit to having done so long ago given his issues), but he pushes his fears down.

“Thanks, I guess, but I don’t know anything about you,” replies Danny, and the man flinches briefly before recovering. “My Mom said you could help me with my fainting spells and blackouts, though.”

“Ah, yes. Your ‘fainting spells,’” he says bemusedly, as if in quotes, and that defensive, roiling in his gut returns, more pronounced than before.

“Vlad,” says Mom sternly. “Please. Can you help him?”

“That depends entirely on what you mean by help, but I’ll see what I can do,” he says with a small smirk, and Danny bristles even as his Mom seems satisfied with the response. “Follow me.”

The two of them walk through the massive mansion. It’s decked out in Packers paraphernalia, which seems completely at odds with the perfectly poised man in front of him. “You’re a cheesehead?” says Danny.

“Indeed. I’ve tried to buy the Packers several times, too, but to no avail,” he says, teeth gritted, and Danny suspects the man isn’t told ‘no’ very often. He worries what that means for him and his potential treatment.

“What kind of specialist are you?” he asks.

“I am technically a business owner, but I’ve done extensive research into unique types of ecto entities,” he says, watching Danny out of the corner of his eye. “Entities like yourself.”

“I’m not–I’m human,” he objects, and he can feel that buzzing, that comfortable embrace pulling on him, and he tries to resist it but finds himself unwilling to do so for long, and by the time he’s aware once more he’s standing on the stairs to a basement lab, unable to remember what Vlad’s specialty is, what else they talked about or how they even made it here.

“What did you say you specialized in?” he asks, and Vlad pauses on the stairs in front of them, turning to him with a frown.

“See?” says Mom. “I told you already, Vlad, he can’t remember for more than a minute or two.”

“Remember what?” asks Danny irritably.

“That I’m a specialist who can help you with your blackouts and medical issues,” says Vlad, and Danny frowns. That’s frustratingly non-specific, even as it’s almost certainly, technically true.

“So like a neurologist?” he presses.

“Something like that,” he says, and Danny scowls as he follows him the rest of the way into the lab, not sure why they won’t tell him the truth, not sure why he can’t remember if they already did.

The lab itself is incredibly high-tech. There’s no repurposed household items like there are in his parents’ lab, and everything is carefully organized, labeled, and tucked away. In one corner sits a massive portal, and Danny’s eyes widen as he takes in the green swirling within it, recognizing it for what it is. “You’re an ecto scientist?” he says, turning to the man as he puts on a lab coat.

“Indeed, though I specialize in many other areas, too,” he says. “Maddie, dear, why don’t you have a seat over there while I examine young Daniel?”

His Mom pauses, eyeing Vlad warily for a moment before finally relenting and taking a seat at one of the empty lab benches. “And you, child, come here,” he insists, beckoning to him like Danny’s an obedient puppy, and Danny glares as he takes a seat on the bed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I need to do a quick scan. Please lay back.”

“What kind of scan?” He won’t simply do what this man asks, not without knowing more first. Not when even his Mom looks nervous.

“Think of it like an MRI or x-ray. I promise, it’s harmless,” he says, flashing his teeth in a way that’s meant to be reassuring but is far too predatory, and Danny shivers as he looks at his Mom. She gives a small smile that’s not half as reassuring as he hoped even as she nods for him to do as Vlad says, and Danny sighs as he lays down on the bed, letting his hands rest on his stomach, his fingers twisting around in his shirt as he ignores the pounding of his heart and the sweat on his palms.

‘I’ll be fine,’ he thinks stubbornly to himself, and he feels that odd sense of warmth, of a hug from something within his chest and relaxes as Vlad wheels over some strange scanner. It moves slowly over him, hovering for a long time near where his heart and lungs are before progressing, and then Vlad sits down at a computer for a few minutes as he reviews the results, humming thoughtfully as Danny’s Mom walks over and peers over his shoulder.

“Is that . . .?” she asks, pointing to something on the screen.

“Yes. But see this? There’s disconnection here,” he says, pointing to it and moving his finger, and Danny angles his head to try and see what they’re looking at but he can’t, the screen angled away from him too much. He starts to sit up when his Mom looks at him and shakes her head, and with a sigh he lays back down, drumming his fingers on his stomach impatiently. Clearly they’ve found something, and he feels like he has a right to know what. “The pathways didn’t form properly, and if they aren’t repaired, he’s not going to survive for much longer. You can already see the damage to his internal organs.”

Danny swallows, his blood running cold. He’s going to die? He didn’t–he can’t be–

“Can you fix it?” she asks, interrupting his thoughts.

“I think so, but it may be a bit traumatic,” Vlad says, “and with the disconnection having lasted so long, I’m not certain how cooperative he’ll be when it comes to the required treatment. Still, the memory issues are more severe than they ought to be even in this case. I have my suspicions about the cause, but I’ll need to provoke him to confirm it.”

“What?” Danny’s heart is beating rapidly and he’s sitting up now, staring at them with wide eyes, unable to hold back his terror even as he can begin to feel that tug at him, that warmth, but he won’t give into it this time. He can’t. He needs to know.

“I would explain it, child, but you won’t remember,” sighs Vlad as he stands up. “Do you trust your mother?”

“I–what?” he sputters. Aside from it sounding like he’s probably dying, Danny’s still not sure what’s happening here, even as Vlad and his mom do seem to understand, and he desperately wants them to explain it to him, to tell him the truth, for someone to be honest with him just once.

“I would prefer your consent, of course, but you literally cannot give it due to your condition,” he explains, which makes absolutely no sense to Danny. “I’m asking if you trust your mother so she can at least grant it on your behalf.”

His mouth opens automatically to say that of course he trusts her, but then he pauses, the words dying on his tongue. Does he trust her? She’s brought him here with little to no explanation, and like with his sister and his friends, Danny knows nothing about why or what’s happening to him besides the blackouts. They all claim they’ve told him about it before–even this Vlad guy seems to suggest as much–but he hates that he can’t remember, hates that he has nothing to fall back on to confirm that they all have his best interest at heart beyond his own gut feeling. And his instincts right now are diametrically opposed, screaming at each other to reassure Vlad that he trusts her even as another part insists that he can’t, that he shouldn’t, that she’ll hurt him and he needs to be kept safe and he can feel that part forcibly pushing down on his ability to say yes, to let them know they can do the treatment, that they need to move forward and–

Danny blinks, struggling to remember what he was thinking about, what question he was supposed to answer. “I–sorry–can you . . . what did you say?” he whispers, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment, and Vlad tilts his head to the side.

“Interesting,” he hums. “But it does provide more proof for what I suspect is occurring. Maddie, dear, do I have your permission?”

“But he–”

“I’m not sure he can,” interrupts Vlad as Danny stares at them cluelessly, not sure what they’re talking about again. He’s lost some more time, he’s sure, but he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t think he fainted or fully blacked out, yet the last thing he can remember is laying down on the table before Vlad prepared to start the scan, and he shivers, rubbing his arms.

She turns to look at him, and then walks over, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay, hon,” she says and then she gives him a hug, squeezing him tightly, but he can feel her trembling even as she tries to reassure him. “I promise, okay?”

“I–okay,” he manages, the word choking its way past, and then she walks back to Vlad.

“Maddie, my dear, you’ll need to stay here, please,” he insists, and Mom nods as Vlad comes over with something Danny recognizes. It’s a portable ghost shield, although the design is different from the one his parents use, and Vlad presses a finger against a sensor, activating around them as Danny’s heart beats faster now and the thing in his gut rears back, ready to strike as Vlad’s eyes flash impossibly red and a set of black rings appear around his waist, and–

Danny’s body drops to the table as Phantom emerges, hissing and shrieking at the intruder and ghost before him, tackling him with his claws as his brain screams at him to protect, protect, protect! The ghost puts up a shield, eyeing him lazily as he speaks, his words full of fire and ash even as they sound human, too, smothered beneath the surface of the water. “Enough, child,” he insists, using human words, but he can see the ripples in his aura, the subtle shifts that indicate his intentions, and he pauses with his claws outstretched, ectoblast building between the black tips. “So you are sentient enough, at least, to understand. Can you speak?”

He hisses, echoes and static and chirps as his aura flares in response, letting him know that he sees the threat but that he’s unafraid, that he will protect Danny and his mother from the ghost in front of him. There are no real words, not in the way there is with human speech simply because there doesn’t need to be, his intentions and meaning clear enough for any ghost to understand.

“Ah. I thought not, based on what we saw in the scans,” he muses. Black rings appear around his waist and he shifts, the dark haired ghost with bluish skin and fire in his hands and eyes vanishing beneath a human facade. “I promise I intend no harm.”

The words mean less to Phantom now than they would’ve if Vlad spoke them before transforming. Vlad’s aura is muted this way, his intentions less clear even as Phantom can taste the ash on his tongue as the man speaks, the echo of Vlad’s otherness apparent to him, and Phantom floats forward, tilting his head around as he puts a clawed hand on Vlad’s chest to better feel the pulsing of his core beneath his flesh.

“Vlad, are you–” begins Mom, her words sounding distant and submerged beneath waves. It’s always so hard for him to hear and understand the humans that speak to him, even as he tries since he doesn’t want to hurt them. He needs to protect them. He needs to keep them safe.

“I’m quite fine,” he insists, even as Phantom hisses a warning at him. “Are you done posturing? I’m here to help you, Daniel. Or do you prefer Phantom?” Phantom’s aura flares, spiking and sending a mixture of signals. “You are not helping him.” His claws extend, pushing intangibly through his skin, grasping his core, but Vlad remains calm despite the clear threat. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. You are disconnected from yourself this way. You leave behind your body each time, and eventually, no matter how much your friends and family intervene, you will not be able to return to it.”

He turns his head more, floating upside down, his tail spiraling behind him as he considers the words. Vlad’s core is too tightly grasped between his fingers for him to hide his intentions, and there’s truth there, at least as far as Vlad sees it, and Phantom sends a questioning chirp. “You are meant to be a single entity,” he says. “But your core is not fully connected to your biological systems. It’s created a barrier between you and Daniel, an artificial wall that should not exist, and it’s harming both of you.”

Phantom hisses reflexively, showing his sharp teeth as he lets one of his claws dig into Vlad’s core, and the man winces but otherwise hides his distress at the intrusion. “You can’t keep denying it and hiding the truth from your human half. I know you’re trying to protect him. I know you’re trying to help. But it’s hurting him. He’s confused and upset and scared. You’re leaving his body behind whenever you respond to the intruders in your haunt, as you’ve done here. You risk him being discovered, being captured by the GIW or other ghost hunters who, unlike your parents, would not be willing to try to help you. They would experiment on him, dissect him, and ultimately destroy both of you.”

“And it’s hurting him physically, too,” says Vlad. “My scans are showing damage to his internal organs and structures. If this continues for much longer, your human half will not survive. It cannot.”

He relaxes his hand, the words coming out in a whisper of echoes and static, of uneasiness and fear.

Vlad responds quietly in kind, sending an oddly comforting response from a man whose core burns with impossible anger and resentment at the world. “I know you’re worried about how he’ll manage knowing the truth of who he is. But you cannot hide it from him forever, not without destroying him and yourself. Please, child. Allow me to help you be whole again,” he says.

He withdraws his hand, sending out a questioning burst of noise, of inquiry. Because he doesn’t want Danny to die. He doesn’t want to die.

“The integration was prevented due to the interference of your family and friends,” he explains, and his Mom flinches. “Our transformation is not meant to have artificial triggers. The use of the AED to resuscitate you, to fill your core with electricity so it can artificially force the ectoplasm within your body to bring you back, has prevented it from fully bonding to your own systems and sending the spark from within itself to revive your human half upon your transformation. You must re-enter Daniel and trigger the change yourself. You must use the energy from your own core, your own essence.”

A soft, pleading whine.

“You can,” insists Vlad. “More than that, you must.”

He moves from the man, floating over to himself, to his other half, to the part that he misses and aches for every time he leaves to take care of the ghostly threats that intrude on his haunt. Reaching out, Phantom places his hand on Danny’s chest, feeling the absence of breath, the missing life that should be there, and the gentle hum of a fragment of his own core pulsing within, that keeps him whole and alive despite the loss of his spirit even if humans can’t sense it.

And with a terrified shiver, he pushes himself inside, letting him flow into the body, to not merely overshadow and reattach but become one again as he tries to seek the spark from within his core, tries to connect his spirit and body in full. He’s not sure he can, not without the external boost, and he can feel himself holding back, his worry over how Danny will handle the truth about knowing what he is, knowing that his parents almost certainly hate him and fear him, that his friends will never accept him–

“--focus,” says Vlad, and then he feels someone gripping Danny’s hand and he opens Danny’s eyes, expecting the half-ghost, but it’s not Vlad.

It’s his Mom.

“Please, son,” she whispers, tears burning in her eyes. “Please.”

And he mumbles something in response, his aura flickering as he speaks in a language she can’t understand, and he feels her grip Danny’s hand–their hand, his hand–more tightly, trying to reassure him, to let him know he’s okay, he’s safe, that they love him and care about him as he–

–Danny blinks, gasping as he sits up, clutching at his chest. It hurts, like ice and lightning and fire pouring through his veins and he wants to scream even as it feels right, as a bright light passes over him and he shifts, feeling oddly weightless and absent for a moment before they pass over him again and he shifts once more, back to being heavy and human and present. It’s painful and terrifying yet oh so right, and somehow, that makes it worse.

And he sits for a moment, hand still clutching his chest even as his mother hasn’t let go of his other hand, as his world crashes around him, as he remembers who they are, who he is, what he is. As his memories he’s kept from himself in an effort to protect his human half crash back, slamming into him impossibly hard, moments spent in ghost fights and then burrowing himself inside his own helpless corpse as his friends were forced to endure the burden of caring for him and protecting him, and Danny lets out a keening wail that’s neither human nor ghostly in its sound but some odd blend of the two.

“I’m a monster,” he whispers, sobbing as his shoulders shake, and his Mom shifts, moving to hold him tightly to herself.

“Oh, hon,” she says, but no words follow, no gentle affirmations that she loves him, no denials about him being the horrifying creature he knows they’ve seen him as, that they’ve hunted and shot at and threatened to experiment on and–

“It’ll be okay,” she says, interrupting his spiraling thoughts as she strokes his hair. “We’ll figure it out, Danny. I promise.”

Maybe someday he’ll believe her.

#angstfest2023 #danny phantom #dp fanfiction #my writing #everyone knows au #electric core au #if you squint #corpse au even if you don't #I want to edit this and post it to AO3 at some point but that will require coming up with a fic title #Sooooooooo #we'll see

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five-rivers · 1 year

Text

Iewuukaubweenz

AO3

@jaybirdscall

Footnotes at the bottom!

“Iewuukaubweenz,” said Danny, smiling toothily at the tour guide.

“What was that?” she asked. “I wasn’t quite able to make it out.”

“Iewuukaubweenz(1),” repeated Danny.

“Ignore my brother,” said Jazz. “It means good morning in one of the languages he’s studying.”

“Oh,” said the guide, smiling, “that’s wonderful. Preparing for college?”

“It’s just a hobby,” said Danny.

“What language is it?”

“Oiwawu uno Yinis(2).”

“Well, it’s lovely. Ah, I think that must be everyone…” The guide stepped away and started to do a headcount.

“Don’t make me regret bringing you,” said Jazz.

“Oh, you should have done that long ago, nu(3).”

“Nuuhuueiwee, uu iiuuni yinis, uzue(4)!” snapped Jazz.

“Your pronunciation is a little off, there. ‘Don’t forget’ should be ‘nuuheiwee,’ since ‘eiwee’ starts with a vowel.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Wibli i iiuuni eulmau noo iitsetu(5)!”

Jazz groaned. “Please, just don’t scare off any of my potential future classmates.”

“I make no promises.”

“Danny.”

“I won’t do anything on purpose,” said Danny. As annoyed as he was to be here, he didn’t want to tank Jazz’s social life from the start. “But you know how things are.”

“Yeah, I know. Uu iiuuni(6). But you could be helpful, too.”

“That sounds like a jinx, honestly.”

“Danny.”

“If you look at it from a certain perspective, it’s like I’m helping them.” And Jazz, too, because most people would run for the hills upon being presented with the elder Fentons. Crummy friend material, if you asked him. Which people usually didn’t.

Jazz gave him a look. It was a remarkably effective look. He crumbled.

“Fine. What do you want me to do?”

“Well,” said Jazz, “when people ask why you’re here, I want you to let me explain that you speak over a dozen languages fluently and that I brought you here so you can look at the language, anthropology, and archaeology options.”

“But,” said Danny, “that is why you… Oh.”

“Honesty is sometimes the best policy.”

Danny squinted at her.

“Look, you’re the one going around showing off ghost speak. At least stick to Latin or something?”

“Ihi Yinis nyoobli wutish(7)!”

“And maybe stick to English unless someone asks? Maybe? Like, it’s kind of weird when someone who isn’t, you know, Spanish or Mexican or something starts a conversation off with hola, right?”

“I guess. But I am a native speaker of Yinis.”

“Danny. You have a utwueeeweustee(8).”

“Your pronunciation is still off.”

“Give me a break, here, I’m not sure if you can pronounce things in Yinis correctly unless you’re a native speaker.”

“Native speaker?” asked a young man behind who had crept up behind them. “What are you a native speaker of, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh, it’s Danny that’s the native speaker,” said Jazz, spots of color high in her cheeks. “My little brother. I’m hoping he’ll be interested in some of the language programs here at the university, if he gets to see them.”

“The language is super rare, though. Not very many people speak it at all.” Well, all of the dead, but that didn’t count.

“Mind saying a few words to me? I’m a bit of a language buff myself. Maybe I can guess it.”

“Noo iileihush hii u ib eunti aawee(9).”

“Yinis! Noo ieku iiiwoo, noo u hib euwi einu ihwuu muueu(10).”

Danny’s mouth fell open. A sideling look at Jazz revealed that she, too, was slack-jawed.

“Hii huuyeu yihi, iim. Wuicheuu(11).”

“Ur hii(12)!” exclaimed Danny.

The tour guide clapped her hands together. “Now that you’ve all got a moment to get to know one another, let’s start!”

Danny and Jazz kept an eye on the young man all through the tour. Neither of them were quite sure what to do with the fact that a… Ghost? Human? Someone who knew how to speak ghost was here, at the college with them.

“All right!” said the guide, “here’s the student union and our food court! Let’s meet back here for the second half of the tour in one hour! Okay!”

Everyone nodded, murmured, or cheered their assent, and scattered. Danny and Jazz made a beeline for the maybe-ghost. He had staked out a lonely table in the corner, as if waiting for them.

… Actually, that was probably accurate.

Jazz slid into the seat right in front of the maybe-ghost. “Before you two start talking, I want you to know I’m not fluent.”

“Of course not,” said the young man, “I wouldn’t expect a winoo(13) to be.”

“So you are…?” Jazz said.

“You can call me Roman,” he said. “But, for what you were actually trying to ask, yes, I am a ghost.”

“Your disguise is really good,” muttered Danny.

“Yet not, I think, better than yours. It’s practice. I’ve been in academia for a while.”

Jazz sharpened. “As a student? Isn’t that a bit unethical, considering that there are a limited number of admissions every year?”

Roman laughed. “Not really. I’m a ghost student, so to speak. I don’t really show up anywhere officially, people just remember that I’m where I’m supposed to be.”

So, unethical but in an entirely different way. “You just… go to school?” asked Danny. “That’s what you do with your… life?”

“What’s better than learning forever?” asked Roman with a shrug. “They say you’re not really dead until you stop doing that, and intend to demonstrate that idiom. I do move around, though. This is my first time at this university. But speaking of that… You must be a lover of knowledge as well, to scout out this place for your afterlife.”

“It’s not like that. I’m just here because of Jazz.”

“You really should think about what you want to do when you graduate, though.”

Roman cleared his throat. “As presumptuous as it may be… If you do determine to further your education, I will be here for the next several years.” He reached into his vest-pocket and pulled out a small, pale green business card. “I can show you the tricks of the trade. How to blend in, even if you look, and feel, out of place.”

“Go ahead and take it, Danny,” said Jazz, nudging him.

“I don’t know,” said Danny. “It’s not really…”

“You can always throw it away later,” said Roman.

“Alright,” said Danny, plucking it out of the ghost’s hand.

“Excellent. Now that we have that out of the way, what major are you taking, Miss…?”

Jazz blushed. “I’m Jazz. Psychology and pre-med.”

“Hm. I was planning on sociology this year, but that’s not set in stone.”

Danny stood up. “I’m going to go buy lunch.”

He did not need to watch Jazz flirt with a ghost. Another ghost. Jazz… seemed to only flirt with ghosts. And guys like Spike.

Oh, ew, Danny did not need to know about his sister’s preferences.

Did Mountain Dew work as brain bleach? Yuck.

Or, as ghosts would say it, nuekawuhuu(14).

1 - Good morning.

2 - The language of Yinis (also called Old High Spirit)

3 - Sister

4 - Don’t forget, I know Old High Spirit, too!

5 - Now you know how I feel!

6 - I know.

7 - But Old High Spirit is fun!

8 - Secret identity

9 - I doubt you have heard this one

10 - Old High Spirit! I must say, I have not heard that in many years.

11 - You don’t look dead, though. Very impressive.

12 - Neither do you!

13 - Human

14 - Gross

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2023 #ghost speak

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