I sort of posted about this once a few months ago, but does the existence of Dan in the thermos after that og future timeline gets subverted only imply that Dan is now wholly unconnected/unaffected by Danny entirely? As in, he won’t die if Danny does, his future would be unaffected by Danny’s choices, etc?
Or does it imply that regardless of Danny avoiding that one specific tragedy in his timeline, that he ultimately (hah) still becomes Dan regardless, therefore Dan won’t die until Danny does or until Danny figures out whatever it is that needs to happen for him to actually avoid becoming Dan?
I keep circling back to the thought that they could have done so many cool things with Dan as a character, either have him co-exist in the same world as Danny without being tethered to him, or explore the cool/horrifying concept of Danny being unable to escape his own fate no matter what he does 🤷🏻
On the one hand, I like that they didn’t try to drag out the concept, because tbh if you think you cant tell the story satisfactorily then definitely don’t ruin the masterpiece you already have, but also it just feels like so many missed opportunities 😩
I know shows in general just love having open endings for stuff like that for the possibility of coming back to it in the future, but how DP leaves off with Dan perfectly allows for speculation, because for the sake of clarity whyyy didn’t they just have him disappear with that og timeline? Sure, maybe being in Clockworks realm somehow completely removed him from it so now’s he’s unaffected by it disappearing, but even if thats the case that doesn’t disprove the idea that Danny still just becomes Dark no matter what, therefore Dan would continue to exist because he is still Danny’s future and not solely because he was removed from that timeline. Like it doesn’t matter that the explosion isn’t the catalyst for why Danny turns Dark if Dan still exists in a timeline where the explosion is prevented altogether.
That means theres some otherrr reason for it and maybe the reason is that thats just who Danny is meant to be in the face of eventually losing everyone and having the only person he can relate to be Vlad, who he wouldn’t have to worry about ever losing, and who was already kind of evil.
I mean, they could have just gone the “Meet the Robinsons” route and had Danny be like “yeah im never gonna let myself become you, so you dont exist anymore” and have Dan just fade out of existence. But they chose to let us know he was still around, in an environment where the og timeline didn’t matter anymore.
I don’t knowwww, am I crazy?? I feel crazy lmao Im just talking in circles to a wall like a maniac
he’s just a silly goofy guy!!!! i’ve never made fanart for anything before and I only just played tfc for the first time yesterday, but I already love him your honor 🧍🏻
Im very clearly NOT an artist, this is the first thing I’ve ever drawn and posted online 🫣
i just wanted to see him in b a l l form, with an actual clown nose..honk honk 🤡
some people think writers are so eloquent and good with words, but the reality is that we can sit there with our fingers on the keyboard going, “what’s the word for non-sunlight lighting? Like, fake lighting?” and for ten minutes, all our brain will supply is “unofficial”, and we know that’s not the right word, but it’s the only word we can come up with…until finally it’s like our face got smashed into a brick wall and we remember the word we want is “artificial”.
TW: Yandere themes, parental neglect, explicit language, mentions of sexual content (not graphic, but hinted at in dialogue), ambiguous interactions between adults and a minor, as well as psychological dynamics of power and vulnerability. Unwanted but starved murder.
Read with caution.
They had reunited after so long. Lestat promised he would change. Louis believed him, not because he believed in second chances (more like the twentieth chance), but because he saw him as different. The Frenchman seemed different, he was, and it showed in his gaze.
For your part, you had met them on a very peculiar night.
You had missed the last bus of the afternoon and stood at the bus stop hoping another bus would come. Your phone was off; you had run out of battery since you'd had a really long day, and at the school you attended, all the assignments were on the school's website and had to be done online. You also had extracurricular activities and a 40-minute break during the break between classes (you also loved checking your social media and playing video games). Calling your parents wasn't an option, and neither was borrowing a phone from passersby since almost no one was there, and the few who were still there at that hour seemed too untrustworthy.
The night breeze snuck through the trees and the rusty signs at the bus stop, stirring your hair and making you shiver. It was late. Very late. The streetlights flickered as if they were tired too. You looked at the bus stop clock once more: 11:52 p.m.
You were alone. Or so you thought.
—"Are you waiting for the bus?"— asked a soft, deep voice, with an accent that wasn't easy to place, but it sounded elegant, friendly.
You turned around, a little scared, and saw him. Tall, thin, dressed in black, with a wide-brimmed hat that barely concealed pale eyes, too pale for someone of his complexion. He watched you without moving, as if he didn't want to scare you. It was the man you would later know as 'Louis'.
You nodded slowly, saying nothing.
He smiled, barely. A smile so faint it seemed more like a memory than a real expression.
—“I doubt another one will come by today. Can I sit with you?”
You looked at him, and something in his voice, in his manner, made you not feel afraid. He seemed... alone. Like you. You nodded again.
Louis sat down carefully next to you, leaving a respectful space between you. He took out a handkerchief and folded it between his fingers. He didn't look at you directly, but he didn't completely avert his attention either. He was present.
—“It's not safe for someone your age to be alone at this time”— he murmured. —“Do your parents know where you are?”
You shook your head.
—“My phone died… and there's no one around.”
Louis nodded. Then, with a pause that felt long, he asked:
—“Do you want a ride home?”
—“I don't get into strangers' cars”— you said firmly, though not entirely confidently. You had made the mistake of saying no one knew where you were. He was attractive and an adult; you'd always been afraid of people like that.
Louis wasn't offended by your refusal. In fact, he seemed relieved. He lowered his gaze and nodded slowly, as if he respected your answer more than anything else you could have said.
Louis wasn't offended by your response. In fact, his eyes, those absurdly sad eyes, softened, as if he were... proud of you.
—"Well said"— he whispered. —"Never trust too quickly. Even when someone seems harmless."
He watched you with a patient gaze, as if he could wait for hours by your side without saying anything else.
—"I'll stay here. Until your bus arrives."
—"You said none would come."
Louis smiled, this time more visible, with a hint of irony.
—"I know. But I can still stay."
Several minutes passed, maybe an hour, you were bored, and there was a TikTok song playing in your head, helping you dissociate, like so many times when your mother and father argued at the slightest opportunity.
Louis glanced at you every few minutes, out of the corner of his eye. You were truly adorable, and it's been a long time since he'd had human companionship; you were a warm little thing by his side. Even though you weren't that close, he could still feel your body temperature. He didn't say anything else. He stayed with you, motionless, as if he had nowhere else to go. Maybe he didn't. Or maybe he'd simply decided that, for now, you were his destiny.
The silence between you wasn't awkward. It was strange... like a pause in time. A suspended night where nothing was happening, but everything was about to happen.
—"How old are you?"— he asked after a while.
—"Seventeen"— you said quickly, looking at the floor, crossing your arms as if you could hide behind them.
Something changed in the air. You felt it before you saw it: a cooler breeze, a strong scent, like withered flowers and sweet blood.
—"And who is this little creature?"— he asked, approaching with calm, almost dancing steps. He crouched down at your level with a smile as charming as it was terrifying. —"Hello, chérie. Are you lost?"
Louis stood up immediately, standing between you and the blond like a living shield.
—“Don't touch her, Lestat.”
—“Touch her? Please! I just want to meet her. It's not every day I find you babysitting a human child at a bus stop, like a... what do you say? Boy Scout?”
Lestat smirked, but his eyes shifted to yours. They were looking at you with interest.
—“She has a lovely presence. Look at how she trembles, how fast she breathes... She's beautiful, don't you think?”
Louis sighed when Lestat sat down next to you; he knew he wouldn't do anything to you right away since he'd already consumed blood recently. You could smell him, and who knows how long he'd been listening to the little conversation between you and him.
He didn't say it, but he tensed as if every fiber of his being was preparing to act as soon as Lestat made the slightest false move. His eyes—so patient before—were now liquid steel. You, for your part, could barely breathe. You sensed the two men weren't normal. There was something about them, the way they moved, the way they looked at you, that put you on edge... though with Louis, it was different. With him, at least, you didn't feel fear. Only that strange melancholy that seemed to envelop him like a cloak.
—"Lestat..."— Louis warned, in that soft voice that never seemed to raise its pitch, but carried with it a weight as thick as the night. —"Enough."
—"Enough what?"— the blond replied, amused, as he leaned his elbow on the bench and his face in his hand. —"I just talk. Isn't that what humans do? Chatting at bus stops, shivering from the cold, sharing secrets..."
You flinched a little. His smile unsettled you. It was beautiful, but you felt like a mouse being watched by a cat that had already eaten but still wanted to play.
—"I have no secrets"— you said firmly, trying to sound older. Like someone who couldn't be intimidated.
Lestat raised his eyebrows theatrically.
—"No? And that little lie about your age? Oh, mon ange... don't tell me you thought we wouldn't notice."
Your heart leapt. He looked at you directly, as if he could see right through you. As if your thoughts were an open book to him.
Louis turned slightly toward you, still keeping an eye on Lestat.
—"It's all right"— he said, his tone softer, almost paternal. —"You're not in trouble."
But Lestat wasn't finished.
—"Twelve. Maybe thirteen, if you count generosity and good lighting."— He laughed softly, a cruel gleam in his eyes. —"Did they teach you to lie like that in school?"
—"Lestat..."— Louis repeated, and this time, his voice was colder. More dangerous.
The blond man stopped. He looked at him with feigned innocence. Then, without warning, he stood up, took a couple of steps, and bowed in front of you again. Louis didn't move, but his gaze was a silent threat.
—"You're shivering"— Lestat said, his voice low. —"You're cold. Would you like to borrow my coat?"
You shook your head sharply. You shrank even further, hugging yourself.
Louis took a step forward. It was enough to make Lestat back away.
—"Good. Good"— the blond said, raising his hands as if in a sign of peace. —"How hard it is to make friends these days..."
Lestat reached into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out a shiny, modern cell phone, a little too new since he rarely used it. He turned it elegantly between his fingers, playing with it as if it were a tempting candy.
—“Oh, Cherie… imagine this: you make a little call, your parents come, and everyone is happy. Only…”— he gave you a crooked, dangerous smile— “…not everything in this life is free.”
—“What do you want in return?”— you asked, your voice low, as if you were afraid of the answer.
Lestat tilted his head, delighted and admiring the new creature he had just met. Louis leaned a little closer to you, enough so that his shadow shielded you from the world.
—“Just ignore him”— he murmured. —“Lestat talks a lot when he's bored.”
—“Ouch!”— the blond complained exaggeratedly, putting a hand to his chest. —“That hurt, Louis. Honestly. I'm just trying to be nice to this sweet creature.”
Louis ignored him. He crouched down a little to be at your eye level.
—“Would you like to use my phone?”—He asked, glancing at the one Lestat was holding. —"It's not his. It's mine. He's just borrowing it because he likes to snoop."
Lestat chuckled, but didn't protest.
You nodded and grabbed the phone, entered your mother's number, and called on speakerphone.
—"Hello?"
Your eyes lit up when your sleepy mother answered.
—"Mom, I missed the bus and I've been here for hours. Some men lent me their phone. Can Dad come get me?"— you said, trying to hide your excitement, thinking they were never going to answer.
You heard him groan in annoyance.
—"Are you at the bus stop near your school?"
—"Yes, Mom."
There was a silence; you could hear your father's murmurs.
—"I can't right now, honey. I just had make-up sex with your dad. You don't want the spark to go away, do you?"
—"Uhm... I don't think so."
—"Find a place where it won't get cold. We'll stop by tomorrow morning and have breakfast as a family. I love you, minha nega."
And he hung up.
You couldn't help the urge to cry. You knew your parents were what other overprotective parents call "neglectful." And it pained you that cold strangers heard it so clearly.
You looked at them, not knowing what they would say.
The blond just laughed, and Louis looked at him with distaste.
—"Well... I know horror movies start like that, but... what if we take you? We have a nice car that the new generation of kids like you will surely like."
They both stood up when you did.
This wouldn't have happened if you had enrolled them in a school closer to your house.
—"Don't pressure her, Lestat."
Lestat raised his eyebrows, clearly amused.
—"I'm not pressuring her, I'm just offering charming alternatives. Although of course... if she prefers to wait alone in the dark..."
You stood still for a moment, weighing the situation. You were cold, you were tired, and your parents weren't coming. Those two men were strange, yes, but they didn't seem dangerous... at least, not to you.
—"Are they going to kill me or something?"— you asked suddenly, bluntly.
Louis blinked, surprised, but Lestat laughed as if you'd told him the best joke of the year.
—"Oh, no, chérie! Killing children is boring and vulgar."
Louis looked at you with a mixture of sadness and tenderness.
—"We just want to help you. No one should be left alone out at night because of their... busy parents."
—"Too busy having sex"— Lestat added with theatrical sarcasm.
Louis closed his eyes in resignation.
—"Enough."
You sighed, crossing your arms.
—"Oh, come on, it's not bad. We fuck each other too."
You didn't know what to do; it wasn't the first time adults had spoken explicitly in front of you. But that didn't make it any less uncomfortable.
Even less so if your mind only thought about that later.
—"Look, you've already made her uncomfortable, well done."
Lestat rolled his eyes at the scolding.
Your stomach ached with hunger, that discomfort so unfamiliar to you. You'd skipped breakfast and lunch; dinner was supposed to be your first meal of the day. But your return home was thwarted.
That was the last time you went to school.
=============
They had been quite convincing; after taking you from the bus stop, they took you to see the nightlife spots that were suitable for a girl your age. But then, then, they wouldn't let you leave.
They promised you luxuries and money to keep you staying.
You hadn't agreed, and that resulted in Lestat locking you in a coffin.
Why would they have two coffins in the same room? It was something you didn't understand.
Until after keeping you in the coffin for two days, they let you out to drink water and eat some sandwiches, and then Lestat told you that if you screamed, he'd rip your jaw out.
—"You'll stay here and never leave if you don't want us to cut you into little pieces. Your father, Louis, went to get you some things."
Two years had passed since then. You didn't come home that night, or the next. Or ever.
You had tried to escape, of course. For the first six months, they had always hugged you and brought you along. Once, you had gone out onto the highway and asked a police officer for help, but Louis appeared behind you and hugged you around the waist while you watched Lestat bite the policeman.
That was the time you discovered they were vampires, and it was also the last time you tried to escape from that luxurious apartment where they lived.
As I said, two years had passed; you had grown accustomed to their behavior, and luckily, you had only witnessed Lestat feed on the policeman who tried to help you once. Still, you knew they both fed on people Louis hired.
You ate normal food. An Italian-speaking chef would come and make you food that Louis chose, saying it would have more vitamins or something. Lestat was the one who had intervened so you could eat desserts.
Okay, you're not kidnapped. More like, you were adopted illegally and by force. (Spoiled captive syndrome is knocking at your door, darling)
But when you showed them you were no longer the little girl who wanted to run away, they treated you even better. They hired tutors so you wouldn't lose your studies. Sometimes Louis would spy on you while they taught you applied calculus and leave when he realized you were making a mistake because you were nervous about being watched. But they couldn't help it! You made them feel like they did when they first had Claudia (you know, before everything got complicated). But even though you're a teenager, to century-old vampires like them, you were like a baby. A baby they'd let grow a little longer before being turned into another bloodsucker.
—"Do you know what your life would be like if we hadn't found you?"— he asked one night, crossing his legs while swirling a crystal goblet of dark liquid.
—"Probably better..."— you whispered softly, almost without realizing it.
Lestat fell silent. His smile stretched, slow, lopsided, like a cat that has just found prey it won't let go of.
—"Better? Oh, little one..."— he leaned in, his eyes shining. —"do you want to be alone at the bus stop again? Do you want to be found by other men less... noble than us?"
You said nothing. You just pressed your lips together, your knuckles white around the pencil.
—"Come on, my dear..."
Louis appeared behind you, his cold hands resting on your shoulders like the weight of a curse. —"Don't say things you don't understand... you have no idea what's out there."
The first time you heard that phrase from Louis was the night a man in an elegant suit was let into the apartment. He had looked at you, curious, and Lestat had spoken to him in a low voice while you pretended to read a book. When the man left, Louis wiped his hands with a white napkin, and Lestat laughed as if it were all a game.
From then on, you understood. You didn't want to know what was going on out there. Or who they were bringing.
The days went by. Sometimes Lestat bought you new dresses, necklaces, shiny ornaments. —"So you look pretty, chérie..."— he said as he tried them on, adjusting them with his icy fingers. You stood still, letting them slip around your neck like golden chains.
And yes, sometimes... sometimes you thought it was okay. That it wasn't so bad. That they gave you good food, books, they even taught you how to play the piano.
But then, when Louis walked by and brushed his fingertips against your cheek, or when Lestat stood looking at you from the shadows of the room, as if deciding something, you remembered that night.
The night you didn't come home.
The night the door closed behind you and Louis wrapped his arms around your waist while Lestat smiled with his fangs bared.
You remembered how you screamed.
And how you never did again.
But then it all came to a head when you fell in love for the first time, with your geography teacher's daughter. Lestat had said that "whore" only wanted the family money and was manipulating you. Louis was more reserved; he wasn't trying to brainwash you. But he was clearly upset. You didn't understand why. They couldn't complain that you also liked women. You thought it was just anxious parent syndrome.
Until one afternoon, you were coming back from shopping. You and your girlfriend were having a sleepover, and you had decided to buy some candy. It was already getting dark. But that didn't worry you; it was for the best, since it meant your "parents" would be going hunting very soon.
But as soon as you entered the luxurious suite where they lived, you got a surprise. She was there. Lestat was yelling at her, saying that if she didn't stay still, he would break her legs too. You ran to her, noticing how her arms were broken.
—"It's about time you arrived. We were waiting for you..."
Then Lestat pulled you away from her and quickly sank his fangs into your neck. You kicked against his great strength, but your body quickly gave out from blood loss.
—"This is for your own good, Y/N..."— Louis whispered.
When you were about to close your eyes
÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷
÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷
Yes, I know I've been gone longer than I should have.
BUT I'M BACK!
Well, as always, your likes are welcome, and please reblog too. It would help me a lot.
Requests open, leave me your request and I will be happy to fulfill it.
TW Yandere, forced transformation, in a way, kinda parental neglect?, light kidnapping
------------------.* ✶ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✧ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ✶ *.------------------
You open your eyes.
Everything is too much, the sounds, the smells, the lights. It feels like it's attacking every nerve in your being. You try to drown your discomfort by holding the ends of your soft sweater harder, is not really working, but at least it distracts you from that hollowness in your chest.
You close your eyes, leaning on the wall of the alleyway you are currently hiding in, letting the cold air of the night bring you some comfort.
It was the first time you were out of your apartment in a month, still being able to remember the night your life went to shit.
You were just finished the shift that you traded with a coworker, making decent money as a waiter in an upscale restaurant. And you were happy to go back to your apartment and proceed to past out on your bed.
That's when the sensation of being watched started. But you were in an active part of town, so you decided to just speed up your pace to get home and don’t really worry about it.
After all, who would try to attack you with so many people around?
You felt confident on that decision, until someone grabbed your arm, and trying to look at the one doing it was the last thing you remember for a while.
Next thing you knew you were sitting at a bar, in front of a drink that smelled way more flammable than drinkable.
You were just about to get up when a smooth voice captured your total attention. "Hey sweets, finish your drink, weren't you thirsty?" for some reason you couldn't really focus on the strangers face. But their eyes, those deep wine eyes stayed with you.
Swallowing, you thought your throat was very dry, and next thing you knew, you were downing a drink once, twice, until you lost count of how many glasses you had. When you next regained awareness you were in your bed, and everything was spinning.
"I think you are nice and ready for me Sweets?" The nice voice was with you, and something cold was sneaking around your chest, and it grabbed at the collar of your shirt, playing with it before tearing it open.
"A sweet lil' drink, just for me, how lucky" and with that, you felt your neck being stabbed twice, two sharp things buried themselves on you, and an explosion of pain assaulted your senses, your mouth locked in a silent scream as you could feel how your cheeks dampened by the tears and cold sweat from the pain.
A chilling coldness started to envelop you from your core, and slowly grew, overtaking every part in your body.
Weakly trying to fight the person on top of you, but being unable to do much, and the last thing you heard before being swallowed by darkness was a mocking laugh.
.* ✶ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✧ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ✶ *.
The next time you woke up it felt terrible, your whole body hurt, and you felt in a constant state of fever, with a killer headache to seal the deal.
Everything felt too much, the clothes on you felt like sandpaper caressing your skin, you swear you could hear the water flowing in the pipes on the walls, the sunlight coming from your window felt way too bright and hot.
It was overwhelming, but worst of all there was this hollowness in your chest that was growing and threatening to swallow you whole.
Something important was missing. You knew it in your bones but you couldn't determinate what. And that sensation was all consuming. Small sobs escaped from your dry throat and a broken kind of chirp came from your chest.
Just once.
And there was no answer.
That fact destroyed your declining mental state. Suddenly those strange sounds were cutting between your wails growing more desperate by the second.
The weird animal instinct inside you grew desperate for an answer that never came, you weren't sure how long you stayed there crying your eyes out until you tired yourself out enough to fall asleep.
.* ✶ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✧ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ✶ *.
The next few weeks were nothing short from hell on earth.
Soon you felt hungry, and trying to stand up was a task of its own, you felt like you lost control of your motor skills, at the point that it felt like you were re-learning how to walk.
When you finally reached the kitchen, the humming of the refrigerator grating on your ears, and the smell of food both overwhelming and alluring to you. Almost in animal desperation you ate the left overs you had with gusto. When you felt satiated enough your eyes started to feel heavy.
That broken chirp coming back against your wishes, and a new wave of sadness enveloped you. A constant "scared, scared, alone" in the back of your mind.
Dragging your tired body back to your bed while the tears threatened to fall down your cheeks. Picking a faint scent in one of the pillows in your bed, and your body launched itself to it. Bringing that stupid voice in the back of your mind to a stop. Some kind of relief washing down you, and with shaking hands you hugged the pillow closer, almost instantly falling asleep.
.* ✶ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✧ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ✶ *.
At some point of the week you accidentally destroyed your phone, too loud with pre-programmed alarms, it didn't survive being thrown at a wall.
It wasn't until the middle of the second week that things stopped being so overwhelming to the point of freezing you in place. Now they were just overwhelming enough to give you problems thinking, count your blessings right?
You decided to get rid of the uncomfortable clothes you were in, choosing a soft and fluffy sheep themed pajama that you usually saved for when it was really cold outside.
But that cutesy white texture was the only thing in your closet that didn't make you want to crawl out of your own skin, plus it gave you some kind of comfort.
By the end of that week a thirst was starting to grow on you, but it didn't matter what you drank it wasn't satiated.
That was until the end of third week when you tried to cook something for yourself, it was a complete disaster. And you didn't finish even cooking the vegetables.
But after a crying fit you realized something smelled...... nice.
An odd thing to notice when you failed so miserably at cooking anything substantial, but trying to follow that lead you ended up in front of the block of raw meat that was finishing de-frosting on the counter. Its mere sight disgusted you, but your body was telling you to eat it, that you needed you satiate the thirst.
You resisted, even from the cloud that currently was your mind you started to think that you were starting to lose your mind to even consider doing it.
You cracked at the beginning of the fourth week, the thirst being just too much. Accompanied by pains all around your body and a realization of how sensitive your teeth and fingers started to become.
At the end of the fourth week you felt very out of it.
The scent that you found on your first week was completely gone from the pillow, a fact that every time you remember, you started to tear up about it.
Your food supply also slowly started to disappear until you had to resort to eating raw vegetables. Something that definitely was not sitting right in your stomach, if puking that morning was any sign.
That bring you to your predicament.
Looking like you were sick, your skin being flushed but looking very pale, your legs shivering from trying to stand up for a long amount of time. Red and puffy teary eyes that weren't focusing correctly on your environment. Hiding in an alleyway in your pajamas because you tried to go to the store to buy more food, but underestimated how overwhelming everything outside was.
The sights, the voices, the new smells made you feel very on edge and anxious.
Like you weren't safe.
Like you were lost.
Like you were so terribly alone.
That stupid sound bubbling inside you, while you tried to contain it. Biting your tongue and pushing it down as best you could. It's easy, you reminded yourself, just one foot in front of the other, and to go back to your apartment, food can wait till tomorrow.
While you were trying to hype yourself up, a sudden, overwhelming feeling started to cover you. As if you were being watched. Your breathing hitched and you tried to scan your surroundings to no avail. You can't hear anything out of the normal thing you were already hearing, but you are sure you felt something near you.
A sound cached your attention, but before you could even try to look for the direction it came from, someone grabbed you and pushed you against the end of the alleyway.
"Do they not teach you new-bloods any manners?"
A towering figure stands before you, broad shoulders and wavy dark blond hair, a full beard adorning an intimidating face. You can make out some scars in the hand that holds you by the collar of your shirt. Deep amber eyes pin you in place.
He has an air on him that screams danger.
The voice in your head telling you that you are completely outmatched by this man, internally screaming danger, danger, alone, scared, help-
"Hey, I'm talking to you" He says with an authoritative tone, making you snap out of your inner monologue and instinctively coil on yourself, or at least attempt to. His hand goes to your chin. Forcing your head to the side to get a better look at your neck “Really, who even is your maker-“
His eyes stay stuck looking at the fading mark that is barely visible at this point where the bite mark was made. You can feel him gaze scanning you from head to toe once more, and his grip on your collar started to soften.
He starts asking you more questions, one right after the other about things you don’t understand, too overwhelmed by everything happening, the adrenaline that was rushing through your body starting to disappear, the situation eerily similar at the one with the man that did this to you.
Your eyes filled with tears and those chirps came back full force, mixing with your whimpers and sobs.
Those sounds took the man by surprise, his eyes turning more soft and he let go of your shirt completely, and proceeds to lift you, cradling you to his chest and rubbing circles while shivers wreck your frame, your sobbing turning to all out wailing. “Hey, hey buddy it’s okay. I’m sorry if I scared you, I wasn’t expecting a kid like you being here all alone. Hell, you shouldn’t be here, period”
You feel terrified of this man, threatened even, but it has been so long since someone held you like this, your instincts fighting between the longing for security and comfort with the consuming fear of someone that you don't know getting closer to you. At the end you go almost in autopilot, nuzzling into his chest while trembling like a leaf.
He takes out his cellphone and starting to walk out of the alleyway. He calls someone, but you feel a bit out of it to really understand what was being said, just small parts, Thomas…surprise.... abandoned.... home..., drowned by the sounds of everything around you.
Yeah, you would like to go home, the sounds of the streets in the middle of the night are getting to you, and in reflex you try to hide deeper into the man's chest. A hand comes, running his fingers in your hair while he finishes his call.
"It's okay buddy, we are getting you somewhere safe" You feel tempted to trust him.
.* ✶ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✧ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ✶ *.
After what feels like a blink you land on a balcony.
You feel less overwhelmed, this place is way more quiet, without overly bright lights or overwhelming sounds and smells, just the lingering scent of the man carrying you and another one that makes you squirm in place.
Now that your mind feels a bit clearer. You don't even know the name of the guy that has been carrying you around like you weighted nothing.
"H-hey, uhm.." your voice feels scratchy from disuse. He turns to look at you, and smiles. before you can ask he answers" Elias" "What?" "My name, I'm Elias Cromwell, sorry little thing I haven't asked, what's your name?" He asks softly
You are a bit taken by surprise at being spoken so nicely from the guy that gave you quite a fright when you first encountered him. " I'm (Y/N). Can I ask, err, where are we?"
"Well kiddo, we are at my house. And you" He boops your nose "Are about to meet someone very special"
Elias slides the glass door to enter the house and instinctually you straighten up, the second scent that doesn't belong to Elias feels even more oppressive. You cling harder to him, almost clawing at his back, looking up at him in fear.
“Well, who is this cutie Elias?” A warm voice speaks from behind you, and you feel someone going to pick you up from Elias arms. You instantly start squirming in place, those annoying broken chirps start once again, you are scared, you just found someone to hold on to, and that security is being taken away from you, the tears start forming in your eyes, you hold on to Elias’s shirt while trying to bury your face into the crook of his neck “Woah! Hey buddy”.
The tears start to prickle your eyes, for some reason you are way more emotionally sensitive than usual, and that little scare is almost enough to throw you into a crying fit.
“Everything is okay kiddo, it’s just a friend, remember?”. After a bit of silence without an answer you hear the other person sigh and start walking away. You almost feel relieved until Elias starts to follow them.
After a minute of walking, enough for you to, somewhat, calm down, you hear a door opening and you enter into a room, if outside felt that it wasn’t very bright, in here is way dimmer, just one light that give out a warm soft glow to the room, but not enough to really see well your surroundings.
Elias sits on the center of the room and you feel the presence of his friend getting near you, a cold hand starts to softly scratch at your head, making you try to bury yourself deeper into Elias arms “I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean to scare you. Could you let me get a look at you?” The second voice asks.
You shake your head no, but feel how Elias starts to lower you down, you chirp again in a panic trying to hold on again, but before you can even try, a cold hand grabs yours while you are being sat on the soft floor. “There, there” Thomas hand comes up your cheek cleaning your tears as they fall.
“There is nothing to be afraid of honey” He lets go of your hands and bring his hand to cradle your face, making you look up at him, he is smaller than Elias, slimmer too, long strawberry blonde hair framing an elegant face, a fanged smile directed at you, his eyes feel like they are swallowing you up, that bright vivid red almost shinning in the dim room, it makes the instincts in you try to get away, but his gentle hold turns a bit more forceful, holding you in place. “I know you are feeling fussy baby, but you need to start behaving, I won’t have any of my children behaving like brats”
That gets you to freeze for a second, what does that mean? His child? But you are an adult!
“Really, you should be grateful” He continues, not really carrying about the look of fear that crosses your eyes. “It’s obvious the vampire that was taking care of you, was doing a poor job at it. Just look at you! Almost just skin and bones” You did feel like you lost some weight, a bit expected seeing how your diet ended up the last weeks.
“But everything is okay now” Elias says behind you, and pushes you a bit so you end up in Thomas lap. “You are home after all” Thomas says while hugging you.
You want to fight, you really do, but you are so tired, you have already been having a bad time on your own, and all the emotions from tonight are getting to you. The small voice in your head relishes in the fact that you are not alone anymore, even if you don’t know the people that are holding you so sweetly, but that can be a problem for the future you. The present you can feel their eyes start to become heavy and with a hand guiding your head to the crook of Thomas neck you decide that maybe a nap can take priority in this situation.
Completely unaware of the smiles adorning the faces of the two vampires holding you, having at last found the perfect little addition for their small family.
TW: Implied neglect, implied abuse, yandere, parental yandere, forced age regression, death of family (not main characters), light violence, kidnapping
If there's any more trigger warnings I should add, let me know!
...
The cold gnawed at your bones, breath visible in front of you as you made your way through the thick snowfall. The chill bit into your skin, but you pressed on.
"Monster!" "Witch!" "Cursed!"
Their words echoed in your mind. The entire village thought you were some kind of monster, all because you were different from your peers. You were used to the kind of horrible treatment you received at their hands, and had long since learned not to fight it; no matter what you said, they never listened.
It got lonely never having friends, though. Even the people who weren't scared of you were ridiculed for being seen with you, sometimes even being called a witch just because they associated with you.
Your own family became embarrassed and ashamed by your reputation, to the point where they would go days ignoring your existence.
Sure, you had thought of running away before, but given you had nowhere to go, that'd just be a dumb idea.
Only when you overheard the church speaking of burning you at the stake did you realize just how little you actually had to live for there.
Either way, it seemed like your chances of death were high, so either way, fuck it, right?
You could barely feel your feet beneath you, wading through the snow.
How long have you been walking now? Hours? Days?
It feels like years. You felt tears burn at the edges of your eyes as you tripped over a root, collapsing into the soft cushioning of the snow.
A snarling noise behind you causes you to get back up and run, stumbling blindly and weakly through the snow.
You could barely tell what was going on behind you, but all you knew was that a vicious growl from some sort of animal was definitely not something you should just stand around for.
In the distance, you see a structure, probably the first one you've seen in days.
With some sudden rush of adrenaline, you sprint towards it, almost rolling down the hill leading up to the old building.
The steel gate in front of it makes you curse in frustration, looking up to assess how likely it is you can climb it. Your hands curl into fists around the bars, shaking violently as you pull. Not a chance.
"Help!" you scream, hoping whoever is inside can hear you. "Please!"
When there's no response, you turn back, seeing glowing yellow eyes approaching you. Fear courses through your veins, paralyzing you as you look on in horror. The shadowy beast prowls closer, standing tall on its four paws and staring you down hungrily.
Just as it stalks forward, ready to jump, it pauses. You squeeze your eyes shut and prepare for the inevitable. When the sharp fangs never come sinking into your flesh, you hesitantly crack an eye open. The beast whines and scampers off.
Only when the sound of its footsteps disappear completely does a breathy laugh escape your lips. What a weird twist of fate.
"My goodness! Are you okay?!"
You whip around to see a tall figure with piercing green eyes and long dark brown hair. He's wearing some kind of old-fashioned clothing that looks like it hasn't been touched in centuries.
Before you can say anything, you promptly pass out from exhaustion.
...
"You poor thing. I wonder where you came from..." A hand reaches down to caress your face, the gloved fingers ice cold against your flushed skin. "Seems as if you were meant to find me."
When you finally stir awake, your brain feels like it's rattling in your skull. Blinking slowly, you bring your hand up to rub at your temple, sighing and looking around. You're lying in a large canopy bed, soft red velvet sheets encompassing you.
Sitting up, you take note of the grandiose bedroom, decorated in similar deep shades of red, gold, and black.
There's antique furniture lining the room, with a large painting above the mantlepiece directly across from the foot of the bed. An embroidered carpet is spread on the floor, its design weaving into the same complex, golden filigree that is the headboard of the mattress.
Your gaze drops, noting that you aren't wearing the same clothes you were before.
Now you're wearing some kind of tunic, reminiscent of pajamas but far too fancy and extravagant to be called something so simple. The silk hugs your frame, falling delicately across your lap as you cross your legs and take a look around.
Then you meet his gaze.
He looks surprised that you woke up already, pulling his hand back quickly from where it was about to rest on your shoulder.
He had been watching you sleep, it seems.
The man clears his throat and smiles down at you. "Oh good. I thought for sure you'd sleep through dinner." His voice is deeper than you'd expected, but still gentle. He gestures to himself. "I am Octavian. What's your name, precious?"
"Uh–" You hesitate, caught off guard by the nickname. "I'm (Y/n)."
"A sweet name," he says simply, the corner of his mouth quirking up even more. Octavian reaches down to brush a strand of hair out of your face before straightening back up again.
You watch him cautiously, unsure why he's so comfortable touching a complete stranger.
Then again, you suppose most strangers don't magically appear outside of someone's home, either. Besides, he did just save your life; he deserves at least this much courtesy after helping you.
"It's been a very long time since I've seen anyone out here, let alone gotten any visitors. What on earth were you doing out here all alone? You certainly aren't a traveler, you barely were carrying anything with you." He looks almost ready to scold you.
"Well, uh..." You awkwardly tug at the sleeve of your nightgown, thinking how best to answer his question without opening the door for him to judge you or ask more questions. But he did save your life... "My village doesn't like me. Thinks I'm weird. And when they started talking about killing me, I figured it'd be better to get out sooner rather than later."
Octavian sucks in a sharp breath, concern written all over his features. "Killing you?" He puts a hand over his heart. "You poor thing. You must've been so scared," he coos.
"Yeah... I was," you admit. "I'm glad I ran into your place, at least."
The tall man gives you a soft smile, sitting down at the edge of the bed. It dips beneath him under his weight. "I am too. Stay right there, I'll go get you some dinner."
Before you can say anything else, Octavian slips out of the room.
You think back to when he found you. That animal chasing you acted scared when it saw him. Why? Sure, he's pretty tall, but the guy clearly wouldn't stand a chance against the teeth and claws of that thing. So why was it so spooked by him?
He reenters with a golden tray in hand. On top of it sits a bowl of soup and some bread.
"I'm afraid that's the only thing I have available at the moment," Octavian sighs, setting it down next to you and handing you a spoon. "It should warm you up though." He watches you eat with an adoring smile, one you miss, too busy ravaging into the food. "My Gods, you must've been starving. When was the last time you ate, sweetheart?"
You scarf down a piece of bread. "I haven't been keeping track of time. Maybe three days ago?"
Octavian almost appears on the verge of tears. "You poor little angel..." He hesitantly reaches his gloved hand over to wipe away a stray droplet of broth dribbling down your chin. "You won't ever go hungry again, I swear it."
"What do you mean?" you mumble while chewing on another piece of bread.
He gently wipes at your cheek. "You got some on your face. Messy thing," he tuts. His green eyes glow brighter. Unnaturally so. "I'll go refill your bowl. More bread?" He watches you nod, then takes the tray from you.
It was weird how he avoided your question, but you shrug it off. Seems like he's a little weird too.
...
After having four bowls of soup and God-knows-how-much bread, you finally start to feel full for the first time in ages. Octavian watches with pride as you polish off each meal, praising you for cleaning your plate every single time.
In the middle of him gushing over you, you interrupt him.
"So... Do you think I could use your horse tomorrow morning to head back into town?" you ask shyly. "Assuming you have one."
Octavian freezes, brows furrowing as if in confusion. "(Y/n)... surely you don't think I'm just going to send you back to the people that are trying to kill you?"
"Well, not mine... just a town nearby," you shrug. "Anywhere with people, really."
He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. "There is no other civilization for miles. No. That'd just be a death wish."
You try not to raise your voice, reminding yourself it's thanks to him you're even alive. "Then what am I supposed to do?"
He opens his mouth to argue, but snaps it shut before taking a deep breath. "You need some rest. Let's discuss this later." You frown in frustration, knowing he's avoiding talking about it. Though he has a point. Sleepiness settles within you, a yawn bubbling past your lips. He bends down to kiss your forehead. "Sweet dreams, little love."
He's so weird.
...
The next day, you venture from the room he put you in, looking around. As to be expected, everything is beautifully furnished, from the wallpaper to the ceilings to the marble columns holding it all up.
In your searching, you stumble upon a portrait.
There's a tall man holding two children, with a woman standing next to him. It takes you a minute before you realize the man is Octavian.
He looks exactly the same in the portrait, except now his hair is slightly longer and he's wearing different clothes. Something in his appearance also seems happier.
You squint at the picture, wondering what's up with it.
"That's my family."
You jump, turning to see Octavian standing beside you, eyes glazed over as he gazes at the painting.
"Oh. They're beautiful," you whisper. You can hear him suck in a shaky breath. "Are they here?"
A melancholy smile pulls at his lips, though it doesn't meet his eyes. "No. My wife and my son and daughter... they're no longer here." His voice is far quieter than before.
Your chest grows heavy when you realize what he means. "I-I'm so sorry..."
The last thing you were expecting was for this to be so sad. Here you thought the picture was taken recently. Guilt pools in your belly for thinking that, especially now that you know the truth. Poor guy.
Octavian places a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Don't apologize. I think my loneliness streak is nearing its end." He guides you away from the painting and to the stairs. "Let's go eat. Breakfast should be ready by now." You're silent, not sure how to respond.
Walking down the ornate staircase, Octavian keeps his hand placed firmly on the small of your back.
Once you both reach the ground level, he removes it, walking ahead into the kitchen area. Following, you sit down across from him, watching as he places food in front of you both.
"It feels nice to cook for someone else again," he hums, beginning to dig into his own plate of food.
It smells really good, which you suppose you shouldn't be surprised by given the fact that everything else in this house seems to be perfect in its presentation.
"Thank you," you mutter, picking up the silverware and eating.
The two of you talk idly throughout the meal, Octavian being mindful of what you like and don't like to eat for future reference.
He asks you about yourself, appearing invested in every little tidbit you drop. Eventually, you're finally satiated, leaning back against your chair with a pleased sigh.
You watch him do the dishes and leave into what you presume is the living room. Curiously, you follow after him.
He's holding an open book, reading glasses perched on his nose.
The fire flickers and crackles, providing heat to the otherwise chilly space.
Sitting down next to him, you catch his eye. Octavian smiles at you and scoots closer, putting one arm around you and shifting his eyes back to his book.
Unsure of how else to react, you lean into the embrace. He's very cold compared to most people, you find.
The gesture is welcome though, regardless of the cool chill of his skin. Even through his gloves, you can tell his body temperature isn't normal.
If he came from your village, the villagers would definitely think he's some paranormal beast too.
Maybe that's why he lives so secluded from society.
...
A few more days pass. He gets a little more odd, but it just makes you more comfortable to show your own quirks too.
One morning, you wake up next to a teddy bear placed between your arms. He must've put it there last night.
It's almost like he senses you're awake, because he strides into the room not even a minute later.
"There's my sweet little angel," Octavian coos. "Did you sleep well?" You yawn and rub at your eye with a closed fist. He gives you a bright smile at that and sits on the edge of the bed. "Do you like your toy? I figured it might keep you company while I'm gone. Does it help?"
"Yeah, but..." You frown. "How'd you get it? There's no nearby shops, right?"
Octavian nods. "It belonged to my son." At that, you stare wide eyed down at the stuffed animal, moving to give it back to him.
"I-I can't take this from you–"
He grabs your hands and holds them in place around the toy, shaking his head. "Nonsense, I want you to have it." His eyes burn with such intense emotion, so much so that you're unable to resist the pull to listen to his request. "Keep it, please. When this winter is over, I'll go get you some of your own stuffies and clothing. Do you have any clothing preferences? Any favorite animals?"
"When winter is over, I'll be leaving," you correct him.
He stiffens. "Right. Of course. Silly me." His emerald irises flash with something unreadable.
The rest of the day, he becomes even more overbearing.
He pulls you into his lap whenever he has the chance, insisting you rest your head against his chest while he reads to you (all of which are children's books). He constantly is giving you random little hugs, or complimenting you for whatever little mundane things you do.
You only allow it because you feel pity for him.
Each time you even try to pull away slightly, he looks so heartbroken and hurt, as if you stabbed him in the chest.
And it's not like you dislike it. You're so starved for attention and touch that it actually feels kind of good, having someone hug you and hold your hand and read to you.
It makes up for all the times you've been neglected.
Each day, he gets even more coddling and babying with you. You wonder why he's like this.
Then it hits you.
His kids are gone. He's never going to have another chance to hold his babies again.
This behavior... is this just him projecting his loss onto you? Trying to relive the feeling of caring for a child?
It breaks your heart for him, making you feel more guilty for wanting to leave.
...
As the snow begins to melt, Octavian gets more antsy. He constantly holds you in his arms now, rambling about anything and everything, bouncing and swaying side to side.
It reminds you of how mothers soothe their babies.
One day, he stops to give you a serious look, gripping your face in his hands and kissing your cheekbone.
"Please," Octavian whispers, desperation seeping into his tone, "please please please stay." Tears drip down his pale skin. "You have no idea what these past few weeks have meant to me." The grip on your jaw tightens and he shakes his head with a dry laugh. "God, I can't imagine living without you anymore! Don't make me go through that agony again! Don't abandon me! You're happy here!"
Your hands hesitantly grab his wrists, not pulling him away but letting him know your boundaries. "These past few weeks meant a lot to me too. But I don't want to live alone out here, forever."
He sniffles and glares down at you. "What do you mean? You wouldn't be alone. I'm here. You'd have me!"
"But I want more people than that!" you cry out. "And in the end, you're still basically a stranger..."
That last sentence was the wrong thing to say.
All color drains from his face, shock freezing him in place.
"A-A stranger...?" Octavian scoffs, betrayal seeping into his broken voice. "After all this time together?! After all the things I've done for you, all the things we've talked about?!" You tremble and try to move away. "Why can't you love me back?! Your parents don't want you, but I do!"
You shake your head. "You're freaking me out..." Never before had you been so scared of this man. Never did you think he'd act this way, even with how affectionate and caring he could be. This is on a whole new level. "I'm not a kid. Just because you lost yours doesn't mean you can make me yours instead!"
Octavian doesn't say anything.
The silence that hangs thick in the air between you is deafening. It makes you want to scream, break it somehow, just so you don't have to endure how tense this is.
Tears pool in his eyes. He hesitates, then yanks off both of his gloves and drops them to the ground.
You notice his fingernails are long and sharp. Like claws. Not human.
"What...?"
"I've never been normal either." Octavian lets out a choked sob. "My wife died trying to protect our children from vampire hunters." He bares his teeth, revealing pointed fangs. "She couldn't. They all died before I could save them."
Your breath catches in your throat at the sight.
A mix of fear and sympathy swirls in your gut, making you feel nauseous and disoriented all at once. You step backwards, putting distance between you and him.
His eyes grow dull. "I couldn't save them. But I could save you." Octavian reaches out with those strange hands and cups the sides of your neck with a featherlight touch, holding your gaze despite your attempts at averting it. "You may think of yourself as big, but to me? You're just a baby."
A pitiful whine leaves your lips as your eyes begin to water.
"They said the same things about me. Aberration. Monster. I know how you feel; how lonely and awful it is. That's why you need to stay with me," he insists. "We understand each other. We're the same."
"No! You're crazy!" you exclaim, backing up further until your back hits a wall behind you. His form looms over yours ominously, casting a shadow across the floor beneath him. "Stop fucking touching me!"
"Maybe I am crazy," Octavian humorlessly chuckles. "But anyone would become unhinged from losing everything dear to them." Without warning, he moves quicker than lightning, picking you up and holding you close to his chest. He curls himself over you, shielding you from nothing as if to protect you. His body completely engulfs yours, swallowing you in his presence. It's unnerving. "Everything will be okay now. Papa will keep you safe. No one will ever hurt you again," he promises softly. "You won't be like them."
"No, no, stop," you beg pathetically. "Let me go."
"Shhh... this will hurt a tiny bit, but only for a moment. It's necessary for us to always be together," he hushes you. "I was going to save this for when you've settled in more, but I can't have you run away."
Octavian kisses the top of your head before pulling the collar of your shirt down just enough for his mouth to hover above your bare shoulder.
"Nonono, please, don't!" you cry. "I don't wanna be a vampire!"
"I know, sweetheart," he laments. "I hate seeing you in pain, too."
Before you can say anything else, Octavian sinks his teeth deep into the flesh of your exposed shoulder blade.
You shriek in pain as you feel fangs digging into muscle tissue and sinew alike. Tears stream freely down your cheeks now, uncontrollable sobs wracking your frame as blood runs freely down your back and stains your clothes crimson red.
"Shhhh..." he hushes again, caressing your hair even while he drinks away your humanity. "I love you, I love you, I love you..."
By the time he's finished drinking, you feel woozy from blood loss and adrenaline. Octavian lifts you up, grip looser now that you're too tired to struggle, and dampens a cloth under the faucet, using it to clean up the excess blood.
Then he takes you back to the bedroom, tucking you underneath layers upon layers of warm bedding.
You try to speak, but your throat hurts so badly and you can barely move. Everything feels heavy, including your eyelids which threaten to shut due to exhaustion.
"Get some sleep. It's bedtime for little ones," he murmurs giddily. He adjusts the blankets covering you. "Oh, I knew I was missing something." You hear him shuffle around the room before returning. Suddenly the familiar feeling of the teddy bear is pressed against your torso, its fur tickling your nose.
"Papa..." you croak deliriously, thinking of your own father.
"Yes," he says. His face splits into a manic smile. "That's right." Octavian crawls under the covers next to you, dragging you towards his cold figure. He combs through your hair and cuddles you tightly, as though if he lets go, he might lose you. "Say it again. Say 'Papa.'"
You don't reply, far too exhausted to even care anymore. All you do is slump against him and close your eyes.
Octavian squeezes you tighter.
He buries his nose into the top of your head and breathes deeply.
"My baby..." His words sound distant as slumber overtakes your mind and drags you into darkness. "You're back home where you belong."
One thing I’ve always been curious about is what Danny’s future would have been if he wasn’t going to become Dark Danny or Dan anymore. We know that it was losing his humanity and not fusing with Vlad that affected his personality, because Dan didn’t show the most prevalent trait the man had -being obsessed with Maddie- thank god, so if fusing together solely affected Danny’s physical appearance and abilities, then would his personality eventually become similar to Dan’s no matter what?
Because, we know Danny goes dark after losing his family, moving in with Vlad, not wanting to feel his emotions any more and requesting Vlad rip the human side out of him, but, seeing as Vlad was noticeably hesitant to want to do so, that means it was likely Danny’s own idea/desire alone.
So, if Danny was able to mentally get to the point where he wanted that or thought it was a good idea, would he not just…do that again in the new future when his friends inevitably die from old age?
I was always curious about that. Was it that Danny was just a teenager that couldn’t handle death, was it the fact that they all died at once, was it that he felt like it was his fault? Was it the combination of all those things? Or, is it just thats what would happen to his mind in general if someone he cared about died?
Because eventually Danny will watch all his friends/family die, and presumably while he may be able to change his physical form like we see other ghosts in the future do (ember/box ghost) I don’t think Danny would actually die in the traditional sense, it kind of seems like he was already technically half dead and would stay a half dead teenager forever, choosing to age/look like an adult if he wanted to.
It’s just a random concept I think about sometimes, because while Danny may have avoided that one exact future in Ultimate Enemy, inevitably he will lose everyone he cares about over time, and continue to “live” for a very long time without those he cared about grounding him in humanity. And he may just end up going to Vlad again, who would be in a very relatable situation.
I kind of feel like eventually, no matter what, Danny would probably end up at least somewhat similar to Dan. Maybe he wouldn’t choose to completely rip out his human half or merge with Vlad, but I do think he would probably become a lot colder, maybe stop turning into a human altogether and only interact with the ghost realm.
I don’t really see a scenario in which his future wasn’t kind of grim. Even if he didn’t go full on evil, I do think Danny would eventually choose to give up living as a human.
I’d like to hear from other people though, is there anything I’m missing or forgetting? Danny Phantom in general was such an interesting concept, it really had infinite potential.
It’s like a normal library. Libraries can upload ebooks there and let people check them out through openlibrary if you have an openlibrary account, or it can point you to nearby libraries that have physical copies of the book for you to go and check out. If you check out books via openlibrary it counts towards the count of books checked out from the library that uploaded the ebook, and they can use it in their reporting and funding and stuff.
There’s like 150 libraries partnered with openlibrary so far.
They also have copies that you can check out if you are print-disabled.
You can also ‘sponsor a book’, which means you pay the cost of the ebook you want openlibrary to acquire, and then they can add it to their collection and let people check it out.
And click on a title even if it says ‘no ebook available’ and scroll down, ‘cause sometimes that just means “all of the copies of ebooks are checked out right now but you can get on the waitlist when it’s back in”
Other kinks: Reverse Cowgirl, Doggy Style, Creampie
Warnings: Implied Kidnapping, Dubious Consent
Word Count: 1060 words
Kinktober Masterlist
“I must say, this meal is exquisite.”
There's a general murmur of agreement around the table, just vague enough to not draw attention to any one person. Your master, Cillian, takes another sip of his wine. “Where did you say this meat was from again?”
Sebastian, one of your masters closest friends and whose servants had set up this dinner tonight, answers with a smile. “Japan, your liege. It’s wagyu.”
“Ahh yes, that sounds right.” Cillian takes a slice of the rare beef, red juices squelching onto the plate as he cuts a cube for his fork. “Here my darling, you must try this.”
Even with his steady hand, you struggle to take a bite from your master's fork. The hand that guides your hips, keeps you bouncing on your master's cock, shows now sign of slowing down, forcing you to try and line up your mouth with some difficulty. The drool dripping down your jaw doesn’t help either, making your pallet wet and slippery as you try and grab the cube. Curious, ravenous eyes seem to dig into your skin, the entire retinue watching as you struggle with the simple action.
Your master rewards you with a pat on your ass when you finally choke the bite down, the rich flavor and fat sitting on your tongue.
“How was it, love?”
“D-delicious, my lord. My compliments-” Your voice catches in your throat, Cillian hitting hard against the particularly sensitive spot inside you. “M-my compliments to the chef, Sebastian.”
Vampires cannot blush, but a familiar look of flattery crosses Sebsastian’s face anyway. His eyes linger down to your entrance swallowing his superior’s cock, but only for a second, before locking back on you.
“Thank you.”
Cillian takes another bite of the meat, moaning at the spices before setting his fork down. Cillian takes another sip of his wine, some spilling into your lower back when you jerk and twitch in his grasp. Your master tuts.
“Making a mess, aren’t we dear?”
Cillian jokes, getting a congenial laugh from the rest of the table. As the master of this coven, Cillian holds considerable sway over all the vampires present. All of them do whatever they need to to please him, all with the hopes of gaining boons or his favor. It’s why these dinner parties are so frequent, often supplied by the lower vampire’s staff in order to impress their head. It’s why no one complains when Cillian decides to fuck you in the middle of dinner, showing off your body and your submission. They all keep a cool and detached air, not showing any embarrassment or desire, knowing how possessive Cillian is of you, his favorite toy.
Even so, you can’t ignore the covetous glances to your nude form, the desperation which reeks off of all of them. You think Cillian does too, but revels in their obedience. He knows they want you too, to drink and to fuck, but he also knows that no one would dare to try anything.
“Shall we start dessert?”
Cillian says, setting down his wine. There's another general murmur of agreement, various servant thralls clearing dishes away as others bring out several silver trays of Red Velvet Cake. A thrall moves to give Cillian a slice, but he waves his hand first.
“Everyone may start without me. I still need a moment.”
The thrall just nods obediently, everyone else slicing into their cake as Cillian sits up. With you still sheathed on his cock, he presses your upper half into the table and kicks your legs apart, your toes now just touching the floor as he readjusts himself. Cutlery and porcelain clatters as Cillian begins fucking you in earnest. Your fingers dig into the nearest tablecloth, mouth open in a debaucherous display. You don’t bother to hide your moans, already knowing how angry that makes Cillian.
You hear Cillian grunting behind you, rock-hard hips snapping into your backside as he thrusts like an animal. There's a resounding slap that echoes through the dining room when Cillian spanks you, but no vampire even bothers to look up from their dessert. Some even make small side conversation, barely hearable from the clapping of your skin and the thumping table.
Your eyes wander nonetheless, trying to remember how you got here. Surrounded by some of the most gorgeous creatures imaginable, being defiled so openly.
Your eyes catch in someones; Sebastian, who sits closest to you and your master. He carries significant clout in the coven, being so close to your master, and it means he doesn't bother to look away from you. In fact you think you see him lick his lips, ruby red irises dancing down the curve of your back to your ass, which jiggles against Cillian’s thrusts.
“Oh, I’m close, dearest.”
Cillian moans, once again ignored by the rest of the coven. But you can feel several more eyes digging into your skin, younger vampires who can’t resist looking at the erotica in front of them.
“I think I’ll cum inside you tonight, lovely.” Cillian purrs, digging his hands into the fat of your ass cheeks. “It’s been so long since you've milked my cock properly, since I’ve drained my balls into this hole.” Cillian spanks your ass again and you close your eyes, the embarrassment of everything becoming too overwhelming. Your toes curl as your own orgasm grows closer, only adding to your shame.
“So tight.” The table legs squeak as they scratch into the fine hardwood floor, the entire table shaking as Cillian thrusts faster and faster. The other vampires simply hold tight to their glasses of wine so they don’t spill. “Gods, yes!”
Cillian yells as he cums deep inside of you, streams of hot cum painting your insides as Cillian leans down and bites into your shoulder. Your gasp, fresh tears running down your face as you cum around his cock for all to see.
Cillian collapses back into his chair, still sheathed inside you as he leans forward and grabs his glass of wine. He takes a long sip, petting your side.
“How is dessert, everyone?” He asks the crowd.
Everyone gives their compliments, saying it’s perfectly fluffy and sweet. Cillian nods.
Pairing: Yandere!Vampire!Neuvillette x Reader x Yandere!Werewolf!Wriothesley (Genshin).
Word Count: 3.0k.
TW: Non/Con, AFAB!Reader, Oral Sex, Mentions of Blood, Non-Human Anatomy, Possessive Behavior, Prolonged Imprprisoment, and Slight Dehumanization.
“Pouting won’t get you out of this.”
“I’m not—” You paused, gritting your teeth as his shoulder pressed uncomfortably into your stomach. In retribution, you did your best to drive your knee into his chest, to let him know he was hurting you without admitting that you were even more fragile than he’d assumed, but if he cared about your attempts at resistance, if he so much as noticed that you’d moved at all, Wriothesley didn’t waver. “I’m not pouting, I’m trying to get away from my fucking stalker and his—” Another fit of thrashing. This time, Wriothesley was kind enough to tighten his hold on your legs. “—fucking dog. Why is that so hard for you two to get that through your heads?”
He hummed, drumming his fingers against your thigh. “Might be how often call us… what was it, again? A stalker and a dog?”
You scowled, crossing your arms. From your current position, slung over his shoulder, the remnants of one of his rope snares still wrapped around your left ankle, you could only see the thin footpath he was following and the dense forest that laid beyond it. The tree canopy was too thick to let you see the sky (something you mourned and Neuvillette adored, considering his fondness for early evening walks), but rays of golden sunlight still managed to pierce the endless sprawl of branches and leaves, marking the first signs of dusk. Neuvillette had still been asleep when you slipped through the door Wriothesley had forgotten to lock when he left for his daily hunting trip, but he’d be waking up soon; you could already imagine him rising from his canopied bed, picture the diluted shock he’d wear as he stepped into your bedroom for his first meal of the night only to find it empty. You weren’t surprised Wriothesley was so eager to get you home. Neuvillette was stoic at the worst of times, but the thought of letting his pet blood-bag get away was one of the few things that could get a reaction out of him.
Not that Wriothesley was much better. He was more level-headed, sure, more likely to let you wear something aside from ivory nightgowns and untangle you from Neuvillette’s arms when his hunger left him in a blood-thirsty daze, but that never stopped him from taking Neuvillette’s side when you found yourself in another petty argument, from standing in the doorway with a smile and a dreamy look in his eyes as Neuvillette fastened a lace collar around your neck, a collar just a touch too small to cover the twin puncture marks at the base of your throat and just a touch too similar to the steel choker that sat at the base of Wriothesley’s throat more often than not. He might’ve been human, something as mortal and as delicate as you were, but he was still a monster. He’d be crushed under Neuvillette’s heel a thousand times before he ever considered showing you mercy.
The shadow of their mansion was coming into view, now – the lonely building just as dark and just as intimidating as it’d been the first time Wriothesley lured inside. It stretched on as far as the eye could see in either direction and towered above you like some awful, looming thing; thick curtains constantly drawn over its many windows and every surface of its exterior constantly covered in a thick layer of creeping ivy. The rotting boards of the front porch groaned under his weight as he approached the front door, and you braced yourself as he cursed under his breath, patting down the pockets of his heavy flannel. You weren’t sure why they bothered keeping the door locked at all – aside from what it took to keep you trapped inside, at least. Neuvillette was the most dangerous thing for the next hundred miles, and Wriothesley was a close second.
The inside of the mansion was just as ominous; any light from the outside world captured and suffocated before it could penetrate Neuvillette’s endless abyss. You squirmed, hoping Wriothesley would at least let you cross the threshold on your own, but he wasn’t so kind, only responding to your silent plea with a playful squeeze to your calf as he made his way past the entryway and down an unlit hall, passing several torn paintings and overturned tables before finally shrugging open the door to Neuvillette’s study. A bottle of red wine sat open and half-drained on his mahogany desk, a small fire smoldering in the stone hearth he only rarely used. Neuvillette sat beside it, dressed in a simple black robe, his eyes blearily focused on the low-burning flames. He looked concerned, but his apprehension faded as Wriothesley carried you into his line of sigh, disappearing completely as you were hauled off of Wriothesley’s shoulder and dropped into Neuvillette’s lap. One of his hands found its way to your waist, its twin cupping your cheek, tilting your head back and allowing him to press a lingering kiss into the top of your head. “Beloved,” he muttered, practically breathing out his pet name for you before turning to Wriothesley. “Thank you, duke. I’m sorry you’ve had to inconvenience yourself for the sake of what should be my responsibility again.”
With a groan, Wriothesley fell onto the foot of the fireplace, shrugging off his coat. Where Neuvillette chose to hide his bloodlust behind a thick veil of unwavering niceties and delicate elegance, Wriothesley leaned into his brutality; broad muscle straining at the confines of his black undershirt, scruff cropping up faster than he could clear it away, his hair an untamable mess of black and grey and his clothes caked in an ever constant layer of mud and wear (save for his metal choker, of course, which was always polished to conspicuous shine). His eyes lit up when he heard Neuvillette ask after him, posture straightening like that of a soldier called to attention. You’d been too generous when you called him a dog. He was a mutt, too mindlessly obedient to ever question his master’s orders. “How many centuries has it been since you’ve had a reason to call me that?”
“It should be four this year.” Another kiss, this one to the corner of your jaw. You could feel the points of his fangs, still tucked behind his lips but no less dangerous for their momentary concealment. “Don’t you have something to say to him, as well?”
It took a moment to register he was talking to you, another to recognize the hypocrisy of what he was asking you. Your pressed frown fell into an open-mouthed balk. “Absolutely not.” And then, when Neuvillette held strong, “You can’t expect me to thank him for keeping me trapped here—”
“Silence.” He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t bear his fangs or dig his pointed nails into your thigh – he didn’t have to. All it took was that tone. Assertive, but not quite forceful. Lulling, but no softer than the wood and stone of his hellish mansion. Immediately, you shut your mouth. Neuvillette closed his eyes, letting out a raspy sigh before taking you by the hips and turning you in his lap, so that you faced outward rather than into his chest. That was enough to earn Wriothesley’s full attention, perking up as you were perched on the edge of Neuvillette’s lap. “Why don’t we try that again. Do you have anything to say to Wriothesley?”
You glared pointedly at the floor. “Thank you. For bringing me back?”
“And?”
“And...” This was the part you hated the most. If there’d been an alternative – a dungeon they could’ve thrown you into, a brand they could sear into your skin – you would’ve embraced it with open arms. But, that was the worst part about dealing with an captor. He had all the time in the world to make you bask in your own humiliation, and he never seemed to tire of the pasttime. “And, thank you for making sure I didn’t get hurt in the forest.”
As if there was anything out there that could’ve hurt you more than they did. Still, it seemed to appease Neuvillette, who let out an approving hum as he turned to Wriothesley. “What do you think? Be honest, this time. No lesson was ever taught with a gentle hand.”
He took a long moment to look over you, another to wet his lips. Wordlessly, dependent on the pure desperation in your eyes, you begged him not to listen to Neuvillette, to take your side just this once, but your improvised attempts at telepathic communication proved unsuccessful. “It could’ve been more genuine,” he admitted, with a slight shrug. “Didn’t have much nice to say on the way back, either.”
“Is that so?” His fingertips drummed against your side. “Why don’t you join us?”
Wriothesley didn’t hesitate, practically stumbling over himself as he crawled to Neuvillette’s feet. He came to rest on his knees, hand braced against the rug between his thighs and his cheek only a hair’s width from Neuvillette’s leg, as if waiting for permission to press against him. He always looked at his most relaxed there, on the floor, patiently waiting for an order from his master. It was hard to tell whether it was a skill learned through time, or if subservience was just in his nature.
His obedience was rewarded with a breathy chuckle, a hand run through his unruly hair. Wriothesley was more lax with himself than he usually was, letting his eyes fall shut as he melted into Neuvillette’s touch. “Since your tongue is so uncooperative today,” Neuvillette started, leaning forward just far enough to rest his chin on your shoulder. “How do you think you can show our dear helper how grateful you are?”
A bolt of cold dread shot down your spine. You moved to stand, to get away, but Neuvillette’s arm wrapped tight around your midriff, keeping you pinned against him despite your resistance. “Neuvi’,” you mumbled, squirming against him. “Please, Neuvi’, I don’t want to—”
“Now you’re going to play nice?” His hand fell to your knee, drawing your legs apart. Wriothesley filled the space before you could clench them shut again, his mouth immediately latching onto the inside of your thigh, his dull teeth burying themselves in the plush of your exposed skin. You cursed under your breath, trying to shake him off, but he held tight, fists curling around your ankles to keep you spread and exposed as Neuvillette watched on, his grin pressing into the crook of your throat. “That’s a little cruel, beloved. Can’t you see how excited he is?”
You could. There was a glassy sheen over his half-lidded eyes, a hunch to his posture that meant he was too distracted with you to care about how he held himself. You’d slipped out in a rush, eager to get as far as you could before Neuvillette woke up. In your haste, you hadn’t bothered to change out of the simple, silken frock you were wearing; a choice you only came to regret as Neuvillette dragged the tattered hem to your waist, as Wriothesley’s attention drifted from your thighs to your panties, the lacey fabric torn away with little more than a curl of his fingers and a throaty growl. That, more than anything, caught you off-guard. It wasn’t a threat, but it was more hostile than anything he’d ever directed towards you before. It wasn’t a sound someone like him, someone like you, should’ve been capable of making.
Neuvillette must’ve felt the way you stiffened against him. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss into the curve of your throat, just a touch too close to the vein he preferred to drink from, then another into the dip of your shoulder. “Surely, you must’ve noticed how scarce Wriothesley makes himself around this time of the month.” He paused, laughing airily. “He’d already be safely locked away in the cellar, if you hadn’t made him run out and fetch you. I suppose it must’ve slipped his mind while he was looking for you.”
“I don’t—” A tongue, broader than it should’ve been, hotter than it should’ve been, ran over your slit. “But, he’s supposed to be—”
“Human?” You refused to look at him, refused to acknowledge what he was doing to you, but you could feel his teeth ghosting over your skin, their usually dull tips beginning to sharpen into something more pointed, more animalistic. His tongue slipped into your entrance, thick enough to stretch you open with little more than its curling tip, and Neuvillette’s focus fell to your clit, left neglected by Wriothesley’s unwavering concentration on lapping up as much of your (humiliatingly, quickly accumulating) slick as he could. His thumb toyed with the sensitive bundle of nerves as he went on. “He is rather young, as far as immortal beings are concerned. He made an adorable puppy, back when creatures of the night were free to roam as they pleased, but he’s matured since his days of village razing and cattle slaughtering. I think you’ll find he’s learned how to keep his fangs to himself.” Wriothesley nipped gently at the junction of your thigh. You winced and Neuvillette added, “More or less.”
You could only bring yourself to half-listen to what he was saying. Wriothesley was growing more wild by the second, his formerly languid movements now hasty and agitated, little groans and growls joining the wet, disgusting sounds quickly filling the study. You felt claws that hadn’t been there a moment ago dig into your ankles, his already impressive build taking on bulk that would’ve been possible for anything natural, anything human. It wasn’t enough to just look away, anymore – you shut your eyes completely, bowing your head and curling into yourself as Wriothesley ate you out like a man— no, not a man, a beast starved. The cool marble of Neuvillette’s chest was almost a comfort when compared to the raw heat of Wriothesley’s mouth. It might’ve been more soothing, had he not been taking so much joy in your suffering.
“He’s always been prone to getting carried away. I used to have to fetch him at dawn – he could never seem to make it home before the moon set and he was left bare and unconscious in the vineyard of some poor nobleman.” He pulled back, letting Wriothesley’s cold nose grind against your clit in his place. You weren’t free from his touch for very long, though. The array of ribbons that kept the bodice of your frock drawn tight were undone, the neckline loosened and allowed to fall to your shoulders. “I’ve always preferred a more direct approach. The occasional drunkard taken off the street and drained was always enough to keep me sated.” He paused, cupped the curves of your chest. “Until I came across you, of course.”
You felt his fangs scrape over your neck, but he didn’t have time to bite down before you lurched forward, the sporadic movements of Wriothesley’s tongue bringing you to a sudden, unsteady climax. It was abrupt enough, violent enough to make tears swell in the corners of your eyes, to steal a ragged gasp from your lungs despite your attempts to swallow back any pathetic sound your weak-willed body might’ve wanted to make. For the first time, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at him, letting your gaze fall onto the black-furred, oversized thing between your legs. He was unrecognizable, black fur and a wolf-like muzzle swallowing any familiar trait you might’ve latched onto. Pointed ears laid flat against his scalp, a grey-tipped tail brushed over the floor lazily behind him as he moved to keep going, to milk every last drop out of you, but Neuvillette reached down and took him by the metal collar now pressing flush against his throat. There was a low, drawn-out whine as he was dragged up and away from your pussy, but Neuvillette’s cruelty was limited to you.
“We spent hours talking about what to do with you, when he first brought you home.” He spoke absent-mindedly, muttering against your throat as he guided Wriothesley onto his knees. Even at only a fraction of his full height, he was tall enough to loom over you, to replace your limited world with a towering shadow of black fur and white teeth. He was panting, his chin glistening with slick and drool, what was left of his tattered clothes torn away in a few aggerated swipes of his claws. You’d been wrong, again – not every part of him was unfamiliar. His eyes were still there, the grey clouded and his pupils blown out but still undeniably his. Still fixed entirely on you.
“I thought he should turn you as soon as possible, but he protested, claimed the transformation would be too much for you.” He bowed his head, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Between you and I, there might be a chance he’s hoping I’ll give in first. He does his best to hide it, but he tends to sulk whenever I choose to feed from you. I think he’s hoping we might both have to rely on him.”
Clawed hands curled around the arms of his chair, the wood creaking under Wriothesley’s weight. For the first time, you let your eyes drift lower, let yourself take in the massive, pulsing cock standing erect against his lower stomach. It looked too big; like a prop, made to only vaguely resemble the real thing. It looked like it could tear you in half.
“Then again, he might’ve grown fond of the idea of adding another wolf to his pack,” Neuvillette added, as you went limp against him. “We’ll have to see how human you feel when the sun rises.”
It was an awkward position, Wriothesley too tall and Neuvillette too unyielding. He kept one arm wrapped tightly around your midriff as his other hand drifted into the limited space between your body and Wriothesley’s, his pale hand curling around Wriothesley’s thick shaft and carefully lining it up with your dripping cunt. Wriothesley bucked into the stimulation, his body lurching forward and his head nuzzling into the dip of your shoulder. You felt his breath, warm and humid, fan over your chest, then the rough reverberation of his voice against your skin. “Mate.” It was more of a groan than anything, one long breath that seemed to escape from some unseen vault. It was his voice, but there was something underneath it, too – something more guttural than you would ever want on top of you. “Mine.”
“Ours,” Neuvillette corrected, tightening his hold and drawing you close. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel it, pressing against your throat as his fangs reclaimed lost territory. “Our precious, misguided little pet.”
Wriothesley thrust into you as Neuvillette drove his teeth into your skin, both men piercing you simultaneously. Too stunned to scream, you could only silently wonder who would end you first.
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