Stretched across a beanbag - Ducky hadn’t been sure how long ago it’d been since he’d first joined the room, eyes glazing past the sunflowers that surrounded him and sticking to the painting overhead, instead. Someone had thought to mimic Starry Night on the ceiling - the stars pulsated, colors swirled - he thought he could name constellations in the painting, like there’d been any to begin with. “That one’s, fucking ... Cassiopeia,” he pointed up, towards nothing, head half-hanging off the beanbag and body sunken in - his perception skewed, “She uh - was a queen, once. Got strung up with the stars as punishment, though - fucking ... pissed Poseidon off, or whatever. Big fucking ego.”
What's one intrusive thought you can't get out of your head?
“kinda fucked that you wanna ... know that about me. about to be used in some kind of, fucking, psychological warfare, or something. dunno. got a lot of them. hard to pick. don’t get to know ‘em, though.”
The bus felt safe, in a way - he always felt public transportation was, whether it’d been buses or taxis or the subway, even. Safe in motion - in a crowd of strangers, even though each time Ducky had gone to lean his head against the bus window’s glass, he was met with bumps and hitches as they wound up the road leading to Lovell. He used to fall asleep in moving vehicles when he was younger - sat upright and head leaned back, hoodie over his eyes. He tried not to let Mercy catch it, but he had - time and time again, until Ducky slept with one eye open instead. The bus rolled to a stop in front of the station, and the pit of his stomach sped over a speed bump; sudden jerk in his gut, enough that he had to blink back the sudden nerves - enough that he swallowed, again and again, even as he stood up and collected his belongings ( a single duffel bag and his backpack - they held everything he owned ) - even as he followed the marching line.
It hadn’t been hard to spot Dominic - all blonde hair, and half a foot taller than Ducky - and still, he hadn’t made eye contact, couldn’t will himself too; instead found himself staring down at his sneakers as he bumped shoulders against the crowd. Bumped shoulders until there’d been no more to bump into, and he’d been staring down at Dominic’s sneakers instead. “Nice shoes - they new?” He noted - adjusting the strap of his backpack and looking up, tentative smile.
The corgi whimpers in her arms. Vivienne scratches it under his jaw, and he noses her chin affectionately. Poor thing had been wandering by itself near the steel bridge, and if she hadn’t been out for a smoke break—well, the drop is steep. No collar, and her phone’s close to dying. Best case scenario is to make him someone else’s problem, but not knowing whether the dog made it to its person is enough to keep her up at night. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you home,” she whispers to the corgi, smoothing the fur on the top of its head.
Vivienne manages to reach the Darfu gardens, and she pauses. All of them are strangers—an inconvenience, especially since, well, up until the incident she didn’t even go here, but she will interact with them out of concern for the dog. Anyone will do, she supposes, so Vivienne makes her way to the nearest person, ambling across the walkways in her polished boots. She adjusts her hold on the dog as she taps the person on the shoulder for their attention. “I’m sorry to disturb you,” she says, only really meaning a small part of the sentiment, “I need help finding the owner of this dog. Will you help?” The corgi lolls its tongue out, tilting his head. * // @radopens
There’s an internal clock ticking inside his head - it’s always there, sometimes not alone - sometimes accompanied by a dozen other clock faces, mismatched and distorted across the walls of his brain. The hands never match, some too big and some too small and never just right, always something wrong. Some count the minutes and hours, some count the days and weeks and months and years - the biggest clock is ticking down, though Ducky’s never sure where it had even started. He’s pretty sure time is supposed to move forward.
He’s not focused on that clock, however - he’s focused on the one on his wrist, an apple watch won in a bet at a house party, once - he hadn’t been the one to win the bet, but he’d been the one to leave with the watch, and he’s pretty sure that’s all that matters. Darfu Gardens, 4 o’clock sharp. So much for sharp - his backpack weighs heavily; more anxiety than anything else. Keeps glancing at the watch, keeps unlocking and unlocking his phone, stuck between the messages that’d been exchanged and the home screen. “Huh?” His eyes leave the phone screen ( it’s a default background - the only photos he’d ever willingly taken were of the ... vulgar nature ) - they meet hers, ‘cos the first thing that’d been drilled in Ducky’s head was that eye contact meant intimidation, though he finds himself more nervous than anything. He blinks. “The dog? Uh -” He scratches his jaw, gaze dropping to the corgi. Shit. “I don’t - got, fucking - uh ... plans,” It’s already a useless attempt at an excuse, looking both ways before shoving phone and hands into pockets, “ - Yeah, whatever. Where’d you find him?”
MARITAL STATUS & SEXUALITY — single & bisexual (thinks he is Straight but. laugh track)
LANGUAGES — english
TALENTS / HOBBIES — stargazing ... he can name like all the constellations ... vandalism ... and video games ... and illegal street-fighting ... ugh dynamic king ... LDKFHLSDGHLKSDLK
TOP 5 MUSICIANS — eminem, green day, cage the elephant, king gizzard & the lizard wizard, kanye :/
FAVOURITE BOOK — he doesn’t read :/ but from his childhood just like ... school silent reading he probably liked this little informative book series called ‘you wouldn’t want to’ from the teacher’s book cart or smth .. joan of arc’s was his favorite i think
FAVOURITE FILM & TV SHOW — genuinely the live action scooby doo or shrek i won’t lie to you. has cried to ratatouille probably / futurama or american dad or like :/ archer .. bojack .. bob’s burgers ... he likes comedies
FAVOURITE VIDEO GAME — i think assassin’s creed or like ... red dead ... doom ... call of duty :/ halo <3
WHAT DID THEY DO THIS PAST SUMMER? — chuckles nervously. not anything good
WHERE HAVE THEY TRAVELLED? — to connecticut for school n thats it <3
DO THEY TAKE ANY PRESCRIPTIONS? — nope
DO THEY HAVE ANY DIAGNOSIS’S? — i don’t think he’s been to a therapist in his life bt he definitely has ... ptsd ... depression .. anxiety .. a Lot ... its cos of his upbringing :/
FICTIONAL CHARACTER THEY ARE MOST LIKE? — i don’t know genuinely i’ve been told lip gallagher and freddie frm skins bt i dont watch either of those so ... answering blindly
ARE THEY EMPLOYED? WHERE DO THEY WORK? — he is a drug dealer <3
WERE THEY POPULAR IN HIGH SCHOOL? — no <3
DO THEY DO DRUGS? — yes
DRINK? — yes but not as much
SMOKE CIGARETTES? — yes but he also juuls
SMOKE WEED? — all the time
WHERE WERE THEY BORN? WHERE DID THEY GROW UP? — hell’s kitchen, new york. hell’s kitchen, new york.
DO THEY PLAN TO GO TO GRAD SCHOOL? — no <3 and they won’t <3
WHAT ARE THEIR PLANS POST-GRADUATION? — stares into the camera silently.
PARENTS NAMES — don’t know mama’s name but their dada is vincent
DO THEY HAVE SIBLINGS? NAMES & AGES? — yes! ezra mercer, 24
DO THEY HAVE PETS? TYPES & NAMES? — no :/
ARE THEY RELIGIOUS? WHAT IS THEIR RELIGION IF SO? — atheist :/
HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE THEY SLEPT WITH? — god like .. idk .. between 10 and 20 i’m sure ...
WHAT VEHICLE DO THEY DRIVE? IF THEY DON’T DRIVE, HOW DO THEY TRAVEL AROUND TOWN? — i cant remember if he has a license but he used to hitch rides with mercy but now he probably just skateboards ‘cos he doesn’t have a car
DESCRIBE THEIR FASHION — wears a lot of neutral colors. hoodies and jeans ... very monochrome ... t-shirts ... wife-beater tanks ... everything is very worn like he’s had the same clothes for most of his life ... sometimes has a nice jacket ... sweats ... basketball shorts ...
DO THEY PREFER TO BE BEHIND THE CAMERA OR IN FRONT OF IT? — behind
DO THEY BELIEVE ANY OF THE STORIES ABOUT RADCLIFFE? WHICH ONES? — no he’s a skeptic <3
DO THEY THINK THE MOTHMAN IS HOT? — n-no .. why .. did the mothman say anything?
A QUOTE THAT DESCRIBES THEM — “I may think of you softly from time to time. But I’ll cut off my hand before I ever reach for you again.”
A SONG THAT THEY WOULD RELATE TO — zombie, the cranberries :/
「herman tommeraas & cis male」⇾ mercer, ducky, the junior radcliffe student’s records show that he is a pisces and 21 years old. he is studying business, living in gorham and can be tenderhearted, nimble, compliant & taciturn. when i see him i am reminded of fear hidden behind a stoic stare, bleeding from your nose and from your gums, and the night sky with all its stars, with all its mystery and unknown . ⇽「james & 21 & est & they/them.」
hi :D this is the last of my OG characters ... the next two will b sexy n new bt they wont arrive fr a while bc i <3 need 2 hv a steady pace <3 anyways hes. rly sad so. good luck charlie <3 okay bye :D
bruises; from beneath your eyes to the edge of your jaw, aligned against your stomach and the sides of your waist and the groves of your knuckles. bleeding noses and bleeding gums, spat out teeth, tattoos scarred from improper treatment, a facial scar; jagged and old, now, from above your eye to beneath your lip. worn hoodies and scuffed sneakers, sunglasses inside. the night sky, and it’s many stars, and how brightly they shone during the 2019 blackout, and wanting to be up there, with them. knowing constellations by heart. wishing to be the face on the moon. beer bottles and secret exchanges. dark alleys. fear, through the very core of your heart. fear, hidden behind a stoic stare.
basic info.
full name: donovan mercer
nickname(s): ducky but i’m 95% sure he hates the nickname it’s just. Stuck with him.
b.o.d. - march 15th, pisces :)
label(s): the allegiant, the despondent, the grifter, the malleable, the vacant, etc.
height: 5′11″
hometown: hell’s kitchen, new york
sexuality: bisexual bt make it closeted.
pinterest
stats
inspired by: lip gallagher (shameless), freddie mcclair (skins), frankenstein’s monster (frankenstein), fez (euphoria) … that’s it i don’t know any other characters KJNSGLDNVLSDJNFDS
biography.
born in hell’s kitchen to vinny mercer and a mother who ran out of the hospital as fast as she could, as soon as she was able. she’d gone so quick that she’d never given ducky a middle name - just donovan. the younger brother of mercy (shoutout 2 bri)
his father’s the right-hand man of a well known mob boss named lars amaretto, and so, you can imagine the kind of environment ducky (& mercy) grew up in. weapon & drug dealings, interrogations, violence around every corner. a brutal way of living, no place to raise two children.
you can correctly assume that they grew up in a heavily abusive environment, and can imagine the sort of things the two have gone through. ducky was, maybe, the least favorite of their father’s -
- for numerous reasons, and one being that ducky’d always been a sensitive kid. kinder than his brother, and far kinder than his father - kindness is weakness, and ducky was filled with it. too much so, with big brown eyes and a smile that should’ve been able to melt ice. should’ve - but didn’t. and never did, either.
he cried often, and was punished often for it until he learned to stop crying - at least in front of their father, and mercy too, at some point. only in the comfort of his room, with doors locked and blinds drawn closed.
he dreamed, too, dreamt often. he’d been obsessed with outer space since childhood, as long as he could remember. school had once shown man landing on the moon, and ducky wanted that. wanted to be that, wanted to be there, up with the stars, discovering the unthinkable.
but it was discouraged, heavily so - projects destroyed by an angry fist only to be reconstructed to the best of ducky’s ability, with mercy’s help, all throughout the night. he’d saved up for a telescope when he was thirteen, but it’d been destroyed almost immediately when discovered. not a day went by that their father didn’t tell ducky that he was, first and foremost, stupid - and would always be.
to the point where he stopped trying, simply. his grades fluctuated frequently, and it’s a surprise that he hadn’t dropped out of high school altogether.
anyways … at the age of fifteen, he’d have enough. he was sick of the abuse, the pain - the crying behind closed doors, the sneaking around, the constant feeling of needing to escape, impending doom, anxiety attacks in the shower and in school bathrooms and at the back of the bus where nobody sat besides him because he was - that boy, the son of that man, the brother of that brute. he’d been a teenager and he’d already been an outcast by all means - an outcast in his family, no matter how hard he tried to appease vinny, and an outsider everywhere else.
the plan took months of preparation, paper ripped out from the back of his school notebook and stuffed beneath his mattress, details of his escape from a checklist of essential items to makeshift maps of bus routes to different cities.
all for nothing, the moment vinny discovered it, the edge of a map sticking out after a rushed morning.
it’d been the same day he’d gotten the nickname - ducky - the way the wound wrapped below his mouth, and the way it’d begun to heal - puckered, at first, like a duck’s bill. a better name than eyepatch, at the very least. the scar’d run from the arch of his left brow, across his eye, down his cheek, and below his lip, the entire left side of his face a bloody mess afterwards. his eye sustained injury, and not allowed to see a doctor about it, it never healed properly. corneal scarring, impairing his left eye. astronaut dreams destroyed, but not in a matter of seconds. in the matter of an hour, maybe more - and that’d been much, much worse.
he stopped trying to run away after that. tried to be more like their father, more like mercy - more brutish, less feeling. spoke less, and less. spoke hardly at all, unless spoken to first.
still didn’t matter. still lived his days in fear, still knew it’d never change. nothing would ever change.
graduated high school and had been on-and-off attending community college since then. he’d miss days at a time, flunk an entire semester’s worth of classes - gpa dropped further and further. wanted to try, but life got in the way. always got in the way.
hadn’t intended on transferring to radcliffe, but their father’d been missing for a few months then, leaving ducky to handle the drugs side of their business in hell’s kitchen - and mercy’d disappeared, too, leaving their branch in lovell completely open. in a split decision - an opportunity, and opening - something he couldn’t miss, or he’d maybe never get the opportunity again, ducky bullshitted a scholarship essay (plagiarism, tsk) and transferred to pick up where mercy’d left.
this wasn’t very well thought out, because that meant there were no mercers in new york - and lars amaretto? not a very understanding man. more of a brute than their father was, by far. to keep a story short - ducky is missing a tooth (molar, luckily, this time) and is … more rough’d up than he’d like to be, for sure. but mercy’s back, now, and he’s still at lovell, at radcliffe.
and that’s enough.
UPDATE: heehaw. mercy is gone & ducky’s still here. feeling a bit lost - dealt with a lot of shit this summer, new wounds and old wounds and just. a lot. started an underground fight club on campus for some extra cash, reasons unknown. being blackmailed by someone named rocky - someone who knows ducky is skimming cash. god. i don’t know ... danger danger danger danger. nightmare-ville. wrapped up in more walls than ever.
personality.
he’s actually very? intimidating? when you first meet him. mercy’s younger brother, with a criminal’s record almost as long as his - a scarred face and a mean resting face. it takes at least five minutes of conversation beyond small talk before it starts to weigh on your mind that maybe, he’s not as bad as he seems.
and - well, he isn’t. but he’s guarded - so guarded. more-so than mercy, because mercy’s quicker to anger, quicker to react, and ducky tries so hard to drown out the noise. but he’s not a robot, and his facial expressions can give him away in a second.
he’s seen what happened when mercy had a glimpse of something good in his life (though, it wasn’t actually good at all - mercy had someone, at least. at the very least) - and how quickly it’d all fallen, and so ducky puts a barrier between him and others. distant, as much as he can be.
it hurts, because ducky isn’t by any means antisocial. he doesn’t hate people - he wants to be normal, wants to have friends and a girlfriend - or maybe even a boyfriend, god - but he’s so afraid. ducky is, by nature, a very scared person. terrified to his very core. he knows there is always eyes on him, and mercy too, and he knows that nothing is worth getting someone else hurt.
you know him as mercy’s little brother, and he’s quiet you know that - but his name is ducky, and you think - he’s not too bad. and he knows this, knows the doubts. knows that it’ll get back to mercy, eventually, that his brother is nothing more but a pussy. so he fights more than he’d like to, against the guilt that buries itself deep within his chest with every thrown fist. he throws up, afterwards, in the garbage can outside. too much to drink, he says, rare grin - because grins are convincing, and grins with bleeding gums are intimidating. he learned that from his brother.
violence makes him sick to his very stomach. he can’t watch horror films, or even action films, without feeling queasy. there’s been more times than he can count where he’d thrown up after a fight, or after an interrogation, usually in private but in the occasional presence of mercy.
they fight, a lot, sometimes - ducky’s too soft, too weak, and it’s bad and it’s terrible and ducky knows that mercy’s afraid. for him, of their father, and his wraith. ducky knows that if mercy isn’t hard on him now, their father will be harder - and his hits will be, too. still. there’s resentment, small but there, like the flame of a match. he doesn’t know what’ll happen when there’s nothing more to burn, but he doesn’t want to find out. he’s afraid to find out.
he’s still in love with the moon and the stars, and the planet’s - and their moons, too. its subdued, now, though. a silent passion - one that is often not watered, left for rot. he sneaks into engineering lectures, occasionally, or physics - or anything that isn’t business, because he hates his major, but he knows it’s the only chance he’s got to stay at radcliffe. and that’s to follow his brother, to follow his father. a business degree treats you well, teaches you skills you’ll need to know for this type of work.
commits small acts of kindness when nobody looks. doors held open, the meals of elderly folk eating alone suddenly paid. picks up litter besides trash bins, and always cooks extra than what he needs, only to leave it in the gorham community fridge with no name, something for somebody who may need it. it’s these small things that make him feel, just the slightest, better about himself.
because god - there are layers and layers of self-loathing, the result of years of abuse. it’s a labyrinth, and he’d never speak of it - but he can’t stand his own reflection. doesn’t keep photos of his family, only a few sparingly of mercy. his room is messy, but still oddly barren. nothing on the walls except for a poster or two, sheets a standard navy blue and a row of empty liquor bottles on his windowsill.
a liar, sad to say. has little experience with. ehem. intimacy, and the bodies of others, but lies often and says that he does. mostly to his brother, but word travels quick - and he’s not nearly as much as a fuckboy as is rumored, having only been with a handful of girls, if even that. it’s better this way - if people know that he throws others away like they’re nothing. sex is uncomfortable for him, he always feels gross afterwards. wrong, sometimes.
he ghosts often, too, if he does get to talking with anybody. the moment ducky feels a spark, something pulling at his poor heart, he ghosts. he develops feelings too easily, too often than he’d like. has left many friendships without explanation, because of this. you know the priest in fleabag season 2? the scene where he comes to fleabag’s house? yeah. tht’s ducky!
has maybe half the amount of clients that mercy does, but he’s working on it. it’s his first semester at radcliffe.
pretends he doesn’t care as much as he does. pretends a lot, like there’s nothing soft to him. but a trained eye can see clearly through this. even so - even if you can see that there’s more to ducky than violence and drug deals - you’d still have to break through a dozen walls.
in the rare occasion you get him talking - i mean, talking a lot - he’ll talk about space. ramble off a dozen useless facts about dwarf stars and black holes and all of jupiter’s moons. about a video game he likes, about nothing and everything at all. but as soon as he begins, he stops - embarrassed. apologizes, shuts his mouth, disappears to wherever. anywhere but there.
uuuhhh. god. okay so ducky’s got an addiction to xanax. it’s numbing and it’s better than feeling, and he’d rather this than that and it’s. a Thing. we won’t go further into it. besides that - he does smoke weed, does try out some of their products to make sure it’s not … fucked, for their clients, but otherwise fucking hates drugs. social drinker, but still doesn’t like it a lot. hates beer but drinks it often.
overall just … he’s a soft boy, with a big heart - bigger than anybody else in his family, that’s for sure, but his exterior is far different than that, and it’s hard to tell.
purposely loses fights so that he doesn’t have to severely hurt someone. because sometimes he just - he was raised in a violent environment, and sometimes he snaps. sometimes ducky just fucking snaps. and his vision goes red, and he can’t control himself - because need to survive kicks in, and violence is all he knows. if someone pushes ducky - pushes him enough, he breaks. he fights back. it’s all he knows. it’s all he knows. it’s all he knows, and that’s not an excuse - and he knows this, and god, he’s so tired. he is so. tired.
wanted connections.
clients… first n foremost. he needs people to deal to. i don’t think he handles the Hard Shit like mercy does, but like coke and mdma? works for him.
f…riend..s?… like it’s so hard for ducky to be sincere with people but if you don’t mind like … an emotionally distant man who doesn’t even hit 6′ then maybe? he’s your guy? maybe you can break him down a little? chip away at his cold shoulder?
a close…r friend… maybe not like. the best of friends. but at least one normal friend whose world does not revolve around fucking drugs and violence would be nice for ducky. someone he can be a little soft with, as a treat.
hook-ups… not many, because ducky doesn’t really enjoy sex too much but y’know. that’s just how it is. he do be having needs, tho. KDSJGSHDKLFSE god.
fisticuffs!… someone he got into a fistfight with. multiple people he’s gotten into fights with. he’s probably lost them (on purpose) but - mayhaps, some of them, he did not?
gorham roommate… god… i don’t know what these two cld get up to but! maybe give him a sexuality panic but who knows.
unrequited feelings… there’s probably a few of these. whether people are drawn to his fucking ~mysterious~ demeanor (he just has fucking anxiety, man) or mayhaps. mayhaps he has the feelings.
flirtations… he’s never been in a relationship so i can’t really include exes, but he can flirt with people i’d like to think … when he’s drunk. :-)
ghostees… everybody he’s ever fucking ghosted because he’s stupid and is afraid of both friendship and relationships and romance and platonic? feelings of warmth? so sometimes he panics and ghosts people forever. :) spite!
new yorkians… who are familiar with his family or the business they have there
enemies… god. i’m sure he has a lot of these even without attempting to make them. just like, by association, you know? sometimes ducky hates people because mercy does. sometimes he hates people because mercy likes them. JKSDGDSJGFSNLKF
i won’t lie i’m very tired and am having a Troubled Time coming up with connections please. bare with me.
annoyances… i don’t know if ducky can get annoyed very easily but? thorns in his side? something lighthearted? alternately, something Not lighthearted and then ducky :/ goes rogue JKDNGDSNLFK
idk something soft… literally anything soft. please :) give me something soft and cute :) and peaceful and not stressful :)
something ANGSTY and AWFUL… literally. i don’t know. duality of man.
ok i have been awake fr too long i’m going to bed goodnight.
“I used to punch walls until my knuckles bled because I was filled with rage and anger, now I punch walls until they bleed just to fucking feel something, or to at least try.”
