It was a glorious spring night, but Dunk took little notice. He'd been shot down yet again, in the usual way, and really, how could he have expected anything different? Sure, his mates had meant well encouraging him to talk to the girl he'd been eyeing for a good forty-five minutes, but then that was easy for them --they had one another. And just as snug as two bugs in a rug they were; Dunk would be willing to bet that Raymun and Rowan would have a kid on the way within a year. Probably in six months, he corrected himself, if they keep carrying on the way they do. And so he plodded on towards home.
They had all left the pub just past midnight, after Dunk had tried to buy the girl a drink, and she and her friends had mocked him and laughed in his face. "You don't need a strumpet like her, bruh," Raymun reminded him. Rowan took a gentler approach, "Don't fret, love. You deserve a far better class of woman than that manky tart. We'll find you someone much nicer and far prettier, and get you laid soon enough."
They had offered to drive him home, but Dunk declined. "Thanks, but no, Ray, Ro" he told them, "I'd rather just walk off my misery."
Twenty minutes later, he took a seat on the bus stop bench in front of his building. The air was crisp and clear enough to beg him to just sit and take a look at the stars. Normally, he would have preferred to sit in the little park across the street, with its swings and teeter-totters for the neighborhood kids. There was an old, stout elm tree he favored, which he considered his 'thoughtful spot' like out of a kids' Winnie-the-Pooh story. Dunk would sometimes bring a book there, but he seldom read. All he really wanted was a place to daydream, and a book in his hand discouraged most folks from bothering him. But after dark? After dark, if someone spotted a huge, strange man walking in shadows, they might be alarmed enough to call the cops. As it turned out, he would've missed the adventure of his life--thus far--if he'd been under the canopy of that elm's green leaves this night.
There he sat, muttering to himself, thinking perhaps he should take up the life of a monk under a vow of silence (wondering if such things even really existed anymore) for all the luck he had with women...for all the luck he had in general, when a green flash in the night sky caught his eye. A shooting star, perhaps?
As ridiculous as thinking that his great height--just north of 6' 5"--would get him a closer view, he stood up anyway. Couldn't hurt, right? And damned if he didn't see two more. A meteor shower? Well, that was unexpected.
Go on and do it. The voice of the Dunk inside his head, the one that no one really knew about. Duncan. The kid who had always wished for a life beyond the orphanage walls where he was raised. The one who had, by the time he was ten, given up realistically hoping a family would come and take him and give him a happier life, where he was loved and not called oafish or a stupid giant when his gangly arms and legs made him clumsy. A young man who longed with his whole heart for a chance to prove that his worth went far beyond the low expectations everyone seemed to hold for him. Just do it. Make a wish. The worst answer you could get is still just a no.
And so, under the clear, cloudless sky, with his feet planted firmly on the macadam, and his eyes fixed on the stars, Dunk wished and he reached at the last few shooting stars in his sight. For a chance to make his mark. For the opportunity to show he was more than just a brute, that his mind and heart had value too. And, by jesus sodding christ, for a little span of time when he'd be cool enough that a nice girl might see him and like him, for exactly who he was. Amen.
He waited to see if there were any more shooting stars, but it looked like they were done for the night. Nice try though, he told himself, yawned and stretched a bit, and headed inside his building. Making his nightly trudge up four flights of stairs because the elevator barely worked, to the cold flat he called home. Dunk's stamina was usually unaffected by the rigorous climb, but by the time he reached his door, he was bone-tired. He didn't even bother to turn on the light, just navigated his way to his bed by the light coming through his threadbare curtains.
He fell into bed, having barely kicked off his trainers, ballcap still on head, glasses slightly askew, out like a light as soon as his head hit the pillow. It was Saturday now, and his last thought was that he could sleep in, one of the few simple pleasures a lonely life of obscurity offered.
******************
I have to thank a few people who helped me turn this idea in the tags of a post into an actual fic. @kwistowee for her timely DM which unintentionally challenged me to carry this through. @strangedreamings who for many years has been my most faithful supporter & sounding board (especially through my writer's block) @jellyfishdreams and @ororomunroro for understanding my vision (and my appalling lack of tech saavy to just be able to grab pics off of the inter-web) and providing some fantastic Nerd!Dunk pics. Friends, I truly couldn't have done this without you! xx
Now, fingers crossed that someone will read this--laugh like I did while writing it--and hey, like it enough to hit reblog!
What video games and movies do you think modern dunk is going to be obsessed with?
Do you mean this guy, right here? He's thinking about it (as am I)...
Nerd!Dunk🤓🥰edit by my personal peter claffey supplier @kwistowee - go give her some love if you can!
This is an awesome question, Nonny ~ thank you so much for asking! Growing up in the orphanage, Dunk didn't have access to the most up-to-date games (or dvd's, for that matter). Kids there had to make do with old, donated game systems & games, several years past their prime popularity. But that never bothered him; when he got the chance to play, he was 100% committed and focused on the game and always advanced quickly. Dunk was blessed with quick reflexes, and despite the size of his hands (even as a young lad), pretty remarkable dexterity.
I don't believe you could call him obsessed, so much as driven. Driven to achieve the next goal, the next level, to save the princess, to save humanity. He never plays violent games for violence sake. I'm gonna say that among his favorites are anything in the Legend of Zelda series, Kingdom Hearts, Mass Effect, any sort of Knight-themed/DnD-ish RPG games. Sport games of anything he'd played in school, like Rugby and Football (European). And Mario Kart, of course! 😉🥰
Movies, now. Again, limited access meant he was years behind the popular curve in his formative years, but today, we'd call his faves nostalgic. His number one Hero, Luke Skywalker (hey, I dreamed it, so it must be true!), but especially in the first Star Wars movie. Dunk swears by the original trilogy, likes or tolerates the others. He'd be a fan of Indiana Jones, too (again, remember this is a question of what was available for home viewing to kids in his situation). Also, The Lord of the Rings movies, with a special fondness for Rohan, its Horses, and its People & Lore (though not so much The Hobbit films because by then he was old enough to understand the making-such-movies-for-profit-factor kind've bastardizing Story). You know, good movies with values close to his heart, where Good triumphs over Evil, where true friendship makes all the difference, where Justice is served even at the highest cost. So, some Marvel movies, too (Captain America, Spider-man, and Shang Chi with Katy) far fewer DC (Wonder Woman above all the others; in fact, his current girlfriend [me, that's ME, if you're wondering] will gladly dress up as Diana of Themyscira for his Steve Trevor 😳😁), but not the entire franchises.
And given the right group of friends, Dunk would be thrilled to attend Comic Con any chance he could. Cosplay, you ask. Again, only among his besties--and in something that keeps his face covered. It's easier to step out of his comfort zone, even in fun, if strangers can't see his face. Oh, that sweet, beautiful face! 😍😍
Since you read to the end, you get a treat, also courtesy of the talents of @kwistowee - the most broad shouldered Nerd on the planet...
Look but don't touch cos he's coming home with me, ladies!
author's note: please keep in mind that this Dunk (and OC) are citizens of Great Britain circa 2026, which accounts for their use of language that differs from that of Westeros
"Well, I looked up at those stars and I thought why not...I wished harder than I ever wished in my whole life." She closed her eyes as though reliving the moment of her wishes. The beauty of pure hope contended with unabashed determination on her face, and in Dunk's eyes, hope won the contest. He felt a sweet breathlessness and the pleasant ache of wanting something just out of reach, centered in his chest. He might've tried to kiss her then, but he didn't want to break the moment...
Chapter Three
Dumbfounded, Dunk slowly assumed his full height, taken aback by the undisguised ire on the woman's face. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, and she held up her hand to silence him. She then stepped right up to him, tilting her head back to look up at his face, forcing him to look down. He figured he had at least ten inches on her. "We need to talk," she told him through gritted teeth, "And not here, 'cuz there's too many ears around."
"Oh...um...okay...uhhhh...where then," he stammered back.
"I have no idea...yet. I've gotta think..." She shoved the lute against his chest, "Here, hold this." With a second thought, she handed him the bow as well. "I was managing this fine on my own," she grumbled to herself while collecting her few other possessions. The stool, a half-empty sack, and the bowl from which she scooped out all the coins--including his contribution--then depositing the coins into a small square of cloth before tucking it into the bodice of her shift. "Give me the lute?"
"Uh...sure..." Dunk watched her put the instrument in the sack, along with the bowl, and then sling the sack across her shoulder.
"Okay..." She closed her eyes and released a long, exasperated breath. "It's all gonna be okay," she told herself quietly, "We're gonna get through this, and I swear it's gonna be okay."
Dunk felt compelled to step forward, "We'll...the both of us...we will be..." We'll be what, Dunk? You're no closer to figuring this mess out than you were when you woke up this morning. Yet still, just finding what he guessed was a fellow traveler, had kindled his hope. "We'll be better than just okay. We're gonna find our way back."
She looked to him, and he could tell she was actually seeing him for the first time. Just Dunk, not an obstacle or a threat or a problem to solve. The fear that had shadowed her face began to fade into something like relief and a quiet eagerness to trust. "You really think so?" When tears overspilled her eyes, she rubbed the back of her free hand across her face to erase them.
"Absolutely." Dunk laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she gave a little shiver before nodding. "Why don't you let me carry that for you," he told her, taking the stool where it hung from her hand at her side, "And then we can find a place with some privacy."
"Right...yes...that's a good plan to start with."
Egg had been watching their cryptic conversation from several feet away, looking puzzled, "Back to where, Ser?"
"Um, Egg...right...well...this lady, she..." Dunk hated having to tell such a huge lie to the kid, but it couldn't be helped. For now, anyway. "We know each other from before...before I became a knight."
"When you squired for Ser Arlan?" He didn't look very convinced.
"Yes. That's it exactly," she jumped in with a soft laugh, "In fact, Ser Arlan is quite a good friend of mine."
"Then you must mourn him now, as Ser Duncan does." Dunk wished he could've warned her that the kid was far too smart to miss a trick.
"Squire, please don't speak out of turn," Dunk bluffed grimly, "I haven't had a chance to tell her of Ser Arlan's death."
Egg looked down at his shoes. "I apologize, Ser...ma'am. I was only being curious."
"Well, now you know, I guess. That curiousity, uh...killed the cat." Dunk bit his tongue. This was so not what he wanted to be saying right now.
"Ser?"
Apparently they don't use that expression here, either. "Never mind that, Egg." Feigning an air of authority, he added, "I'd like you to go check on the horses now." He grabbed a few coppers from the fast dwindling supply in his change purse. "You can buy something for supper before you leave the tourney grounds. But I expect you to have the camp squared away by the time I get back."
"Yes, Ser." Egg sketched a little bow towards the woman, and wished her a good evening before setting off.
"Well, he's a smart one."
"Yup," Dunk agreed, "Like, the smartest kid I've ever known. But now, any idea where we can talk?"
Considerably calmer now then when he'd dared to speak their hidden secret, the young woman actually smiled. "I think so...Ser." She gave him such a sidelong look from beneath her lashes that Dunk had to tell himself she was not flirting. So few women from his world did, so why should she be different? "They're about to start the evening jousts, so I've got the perfect spot in mind."
She had been right. The ale tent was practically empty as the crowds had cleared out for the jousts, but still they choose a table in a back corner to avoid any chance of their conversation being overheard. They were only drinking soft cider, but when Dunk went to pay, his companion patted his arm. "I'm flush--I've got this one...Ser." Again there she was, with that teasing tone. If they weren't in mortal danger--by her description, anyway--Dunk might've found it charming.
They sat close, so any onlooker would mark them as just another couple there to enjoy the faire. They'd barely taken their seats, and she was speaking. "Look, I'm sorry I had to be so brusque back there, but I was just starting to figure this place out and you really threw me for a loop."
"Right, um...what's your name?"
"Oh, lord," she laughed, covering her mouth with her palm until her giggles passed. "I'm sorry, this whole situation is so absurd, I've forgotten how to be normal." She offered her hand for Dunk to shake; his swallowed hers with room to spare. "Virgilia Gordon. My friends call me Vicki, but I think here I need to stick with the formal version. It rather fits here, don't'cha think?" She took a long swallow of her cider, waiting on him.
I'm Duncan..." Bollocks, this part never gets any easier. "Duncan...Dunne."
Vicki opened her mouth, thought better of her reply, closed it, considered her possibilities, and then just said it. "Duncan Dunne? Your parents seriously named you 'Duncan Dunne'?"
Every time he had to answer that question, it was like tearing a scab off an old wound. "I can only assume so, as my mum gave me up for adoption when I was just two."
"Oh, man, Duncan, I didn't mean to be so insensitive. I'm sorry." And she did seem truly so.
He shrugged, "It's okay, I'm used to it. Besides almost everyone just calls me Dunk."
Her eyes went really wide as she nodded. "Dunk Dunne?"
"Yeah. And I know--it's hard to say which is worse." He looked down at his near empty tankard, then watched her out of the corner of his eye, "'course, Virgilia is quite the interesting mouthful as well."
"God, yes," she agreed, throwing her head back in laughter. "Like you have no idea!" And suddenly Dunk was chuckling as well, then laughing so hard that tears gathered in his eyes. It took a couple minutes until both of them had settled down from sharing the absurdity of their given names.
Dunk grew more serious first. "Do you have any idea where we are?"
"Actually, I've paid real close attention to the conversations of these smallfolk..."
"Smallfolk?"
"I'm guessing we'd call them peasants, back home." Dunk just nodded and she continued. "The best I could piece together is we're in a country called Westeros, ruled by some kind of royalty who are closely associated with dragons..."
"No way--that can't be real," he interjected, though he definitely would've liked to see one.
Vicki shook her head, "I dunno, Duncan. I mean, you wouldn't think we'd be here if some kind of magic...sorcery...whatever...didn't exist. So perhaps 'here be dragons' is a good possibility."
"I suppose," he murmured, his brow furrowed as his mind posed at least a dozen questions more. "So, how d'ya think we managed to end up in a place they speak English?"
"Welllllll..." She leaned her chin on her palm, considering the likelihoods. "It might be they aren't, and we're speaking their language instead. by whatever magic dropped us here. It's their world, after all."
"Good point," Dunk conceded. "I think, though, the most important question is how the hell did we end up here in the first place."
"Oh, that's an easy one, Duncan Dunne." She appeared to hold her breath as she studied his face, though he could only wonder what she searched for. "I think I'm here because I wished on the wrong star."
"No. No..." he told her flatly, "If you're mocking me now, Virgilia. I don't appreciate it..."
She grabbed his arm before he could up and walk away. "Please, Duncan, stay," her voice had turned frantic, her knuckles white where she held on. "It's the only honest explanation I can give you. I had a horrible night...and then I wished on a star. And when I woke up this morning, I was in a field of long grass, just behind the pavilions."
The truth was clear on her face, but he needed more. "What kind of a star?"
Fighting back tears, Vicki sniffled and blinked several times. "A shooting star. With a tail of..." her voice cracked, "...with a tail of..."
"Green." She was nodding yes, unable to speak another word amid her tears. Dunk's world, his sense of reality, had just shrunk down to the space that encompassed only them. He laid his free hand atop hers, not surprised to feel her trembling, moved enough to want to assure her. "Mine was green, too...and...and there were several of them. And several wishes, as well."
Vicki rested her face in her hand. "At least I'm not crazy." She was breathing deeply, doing her best to grow calm, "Or if I am, I'm not alone."
"We're not crazy, I know that for certain."
"But how can you...how can we...be sure of it?"
"Because ever since I woke up here, this morning, I've felt really calm despite how mad this seems--and like there's a good reason for me being here. Like there's something I'm meant to do...or to find. I just have to figure it out." He glanced around at the few folks seated around the tent. Everyone looked like they belonged here. Not a one struck him as odd--for only he and the woman beside him didn't fit in. "So, maybe we can figure it out together," he suggested. "That's got to be better than struggling alone."
"Tell me, then, Duncan. Your story. Perhaps I'll see some clue to explain why we're here, that you might've missed."
The shouts of the crowd at the evening jousts carried clear across the tourney grounds, but engrossed as they were in sharing their stories, neither Dunk nor Vicki paid any heed outside of their hushed conversation. "When I first woke up, I was confused, of course, but not in the same way that you described, Duncan. You see, I work at the Eynsford Renaissance Faire. I understudy several of the supporting roles, and on the days I'm not on, I sing and play the violin for tips..."
"Like you were here, when I heard you play?"
"Yup. I mean, I know plenty of period pieces, but the crowds at our Faire get a kick out of hearing modern music I've adapted to a medieval vibe."
"Medieval Madonna," he grinned, "That was pretty sick."
"Thanks...Dunk." Her liked her bashful smile and how she spoke with such enthusiasm for her music. "It's way better on my violin...if we get back..."
"When we get back," he corrected her.
"When we get back--maybe I can play for you sometime."
"I'd like that, V," he rumbled, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "Very much." Watching her face soften, the way she let his wee compliment sink in--that's what Ro would call 'a moment', he thought, completely natural and from the heart. Sure, the timing sucked, but it still felt damn good.
"Um...anyway..." Vicki lowered her lashes as though, if she kept looking at him, she might forget some important part of her tale. "I work at the Faire, spring through the end of October, so normally this...environment...wouldn't faze me. At first, I thought I just had to figure out how I ended up sleeping in that field, but pretty soon I realized this was a far sight from Eynsford. Plus," she patted her sack resting on the table top, "Everything I had with me when I fell asleep--my violin in it's case, my street clothes, my mobile, even my glasses--had ended up in this burlap bag. Most of it transformed to..." she waved her hand indicating everything around them, "...to this world's equivalent. Except for my glasses, I'm guessing 'cuz there's no counterpart to it here. And my mobile is gone. There has to be some kind of logic at play..."
Without a word, Dunk pulled his own glasses from the leather satchel he wore and set them on the table in front of her. She nearly jumped off of the bench.
"No frickin' way," she blurted out, then clapped her hand over her mouth to keep worse from tumbling out. "And now you can see without them?"
Dunk popped his glasses back into his bag. "Perfectly."
"Unbelievable. Duncan, I've worn glasses since I was seven. Seven. And contacts for performing. But all my contacts gear didn't even make the leap here."
"And you see everything fine without them now?"
"Crystal clear."
"Sunuvabitch....You know what this means, don't you? Something...the same something...did this to us."
He watched the light of understanding dawn in Vicki's eyes. "The wishing stars," she gasped.
"Right. Those sodding wishing stars..." Dunk groaned.
With the jousting complete, groups of people began to fill the empty spaces in the ale tent. Dunk and Vicki took it as their cue to move their conversation elsewhere. "Though I ought to get back to where, uh...Ser Duncan's camp is set up."
"Is it far?"
"Maybe a 20-minute walk, or so. But in the dark, it'll probably take longer." Being the adult responsible for Egg, Dunk was feeling a little anxious to check on him.
Vicki had paused at his answer, so he had to turn back to speak to her. She looked back toward the light coming from the ale tent, seeming strangely uneasy. "Dunk, I...um...I don't have any place to go. Except maybe that field, but I really don't fancy bedding down there in the dark. God knows what kind of animals they have here."
He jogged back to her side. "Don't be silly, V. You're coming with," he told her, and urged her along with his hand on the small of her back.
"Really...it's okay?" She sounded like she truly hadn't expected such an invitation.
"What kind of a knight do you take me for, to leave a damsel in distress?"
She shot him a pretty, little pout, "Well, I didn't just to want assume anything." They continued on their way. "But just so you know, Ser Duncan--normally I can take care of myself."
"I don't doubt it," he chuckled, "But if there's dragons, even you might need an extra hand."
"Cheeky lad," she sniffed--and he laughed even harder.
On the way, Dunk insisted they grab something to eat, though many of the market stalls had already shut down for the night. They ended up with several pieces of the last day's fried bread from a plump, gray-haired woman who only charged them for two, 'owing to the poor quality of the batch'. She wrapped the bread in a linen cloth and handed it over to Dunk with a wink. "I'm sure you've a mighty appetite, Son, but make sure your Lady gets her fair share."
"No...she's...she's not my lady..." he tried to reply, but the woman silenced him with an arched brow and a telling smirk, before turning away.
The bread was still warm, but a little lard saturated. "Tasty, though," Dunk commented, before biting into his second piece.
Vicki agreed. "It reminds me of a gingery version of a Jersey Wonder...and it does hit the spot."
Once clear of the tourney grounds, they only had moonlight and starlight to navigate by. The air was filled with the sounds of night creatures, and Dunk felt quite pleased when Vicki slipped her hand through his arm. "For warmth," she told him, "And so I don't trip on the rocks in this path. These shoes are not made for hiking."
"Sooooooo," he asked at last, for they still had the mystery of why they were where they were, to solve, "You never really told me what you wished for."
"Look, Dunk--I dunno if I can talk about it just yet." Her caution in answering echoed her cautious steps in the darkness.
"I don't think you've got a choice, V." Funny how he'd settled on calling her that, after only a couple hours acquaintance. Funnier still, that she'd accepted it without comment.
She sighed hard, and gently tightened her grasp on his arm. "Okay, but I have to explain something first. Just...so...you'll understand if my wishes sound...frivolous."
The sadness in her voice was sobering. "Okay. Whatever you need, Vicki."
She sighed again before beginning. "It was a really long day, yesterday, and I was exhausted. Then, I missed the last train back to London, but I was able to bum a ride from a castmate." She seemed lost in remembering, her voice grew softer and then distracted. "That was a mistake. I might've done better to sleep at the station."
The hair on the back of his neck rose in concern."What happened?"
"He kept saying we should stop for a drink or two, and I kept saying no thanks. I was not in the mood. I was still in my bloody costume, for Christ sake, but he stopped down the road from a pub near my street anyway..."
"Oh, god...Vicki..."
"It's okay, Dunk. I'm okay. Not gonna say it wasn't scary." Her voice wavered, but didn't break. Dunk could feel the depth of the breath she drew and then exhaled. "He got...handsy...wouldn't take no for an answer...and I wasn't having it. So...I broke his nose."
"You what?"
"My elbow met his nose with... extraordinary force..."
Dunk was glad for the darkness--otherwise she might have seen how deeply his apprehension for her had so quickly grown. Or his huge relief on learning how well she'd defended herself.
"I have two older brothers, see," she explained, "So by the time I was allowed to date, they made damn sure I could take care of myself."
"Good for them," he exclaimed. And even better for you, dear.
"Anyway, dude was bleeding a fair amount and calling me the worse names you can imagine, so I grabbed my violin case and rucksack and hightailed it for home." She let out a bark of bitter laughter, "He hadn’t even restarted his car by the time I rounded the corner."
Following that revelation, Dunk could feel that Vicki walked with a stiffened spine. With a kind of earned fearlessness. He wanted to tell her nothing would hurt her on his watch; he wanted to promise that he'd see her home with no harm. But he couldn't because they had only barely met. And he couldn't because no matter how confidently he'd been claiming they'd find their way home, he had no way of truly knowing if they ever could.
After that they walked in silence for a while, which allowed him to focus on the narrow path back to his campsite. By his reckoning, they should get there soon. Dunk sighed in relief when he spotted the flicker of a campfire in the distance. "It's not much farther now." They both relaxed after that. "So, what about your wish," he reminded her.
"Oh, right." She cleared her throat and began again, "I rent a basement bed sit in the East End, but when I got there, I couldn't find my key. I figure it might've fallen out of my bag or maybe I'd left it sitting on my dresser when I left for work yesterday morning. Either way, I was just done with everything for the day."
"Yeah. I know that feeling."
"It was a pretty nice night, so I sat on the stoop a while. Trying to count my blessings instead of my problems, like my mum always taught me to. And that's when I saw them...
"The shooting stars." Dunk was smiling in the dark, thinking how very likely it was they each saw them at the same time. And that no matter what force in the universe had caused those stars to fall, it wasn't mere coincidence they had wished on them together.
Now he could make out Egg sitting by the fire, and the horses tethered to a short-growth elm tree.
Vicki stood in place, pulling him to face her. Looking up at him, deadly serious. The moonlight painted her skin pale, her widened eyes deep and dark. It made him miss the loveliness of her cornflower blue. "Please don't think poorly of me for my wishes, Dunk. They'll probably sound vain to you."
"I'm not one to judge, V," he said gently, "I promise."
"Well, I looked up at those stars and I thought why not. Why not ask for the things I've been hoping to find. Hard work hasn't gotten me there yet. Fantasizing about some impossibly wonderful guy wasn't going to make him knock on my door. So I wished harder than I ever wished in my whole life." Vicki closed her eyes as though reliving the moment of her wishes. The beauty of pure hope contended with unabashed determination on her face, and in Dunk's eyes, hope won the contest. He felt a sweet breathlessness and the pleasant ache of wanting something just out of reach, centered in his chest. He might've tried to kiss her then, but he didn't want to break the moment.
"I wished for a shot at a starring role, not just on stage, but in life. No more understudy, no more runner-up. No more always being second best." She opened her eyes and smiled up at him softly. "And I wished for a bloke that was simply nice. That would treat me right, and tell me I'm pretty even when I'm at my worst, because he would see me with stars in his eyes...and recognize the good things I have to offer, that the others always miss."
wherein Modern AU Dunk takes Egg & Daeron on the road trip of their lives
inspired by
maybe it starts the morning after a bar fight that Dunk stepped into to save Daeron from some biker dude who'd cut the prince (but not a prince cos it's Modern AU, I've yet to figure that part out) because he was making repeated (and repeatedly declined) passes at biker's girl while playing a really sloppy game of pool. maybe Dunk could've stepped in sooner, but he thought Daeron needed a lesson in more respectful behavior toward women, but then the biker cut Daeron's face, so that was the end of that. and of course, Dunk is gonna feel awful that Daeron got cut bad enough to need stitches, and even with cosmetic surgery down the road, it's still gonna scar (personally, I think the scar is gonna look very hot on him, but hey, what do I know?)
then maybe it's Egg who says 'hey, Dad is really pissed at Daeron this time, and it's not gonna blow over anytime soon, and maybe we...or you...or us, Dunk...could you know, help my brother who has looked out for me time after time against our shit brother, Aerion, what do you say?'. and of course, Dunk being the stand-up guy that he is, with a most excellent heart (and feeling that partial responsibility towards Daeron) says yes, okay, road trip time, but the both of you need some lessons in the real world and we're gonna do things my way, no ifs, ands, or buts.
(and @kwistowee maybe in this AU, Dunk has to leave behind his live-in girlfriend Virgilia😉, who's a performer at the Eynsford Renaissance Faire, but she's very understanding about the temporary separation because her dude is the best dude on the planet, always doing things to help people in need)
I am so awash in Dunk warm fuzzies right now, I cannot help myself...
Modern AU Dunk (aka Nerd!Dunk) is a PE teacher for kids right around Egg's age. He is, in fact, most of his students' favorite teacher. Everyone passes, and if you can't climb that rope, Mr. Dunk finds an alternate 'test' of your abilities that leaves you feeling you've accomplished exactly what all your classmates have. A lot of the girls develop their first crushes on him; they may not be able to put that kinda goofy but very nice feeling into words, but the horse girls, for example, give their mums their crayon drawings to hang on the fridge--and the mums have to ask who the giant man next to the horse in the picture is. The young lass will reply in a tone of voice as though the answer is obvious, 'That's Mr. Dunk', before skipping off to play Barbie with her friends. There's one girl that has named Barbie's white horse Sweetfoot, and her Ken (whom she has decided doesn't Beach, but Horses) takes the most excellent care of that beautiful horsie.
every time I look at that adorable, goofy yet still damnablely handsome thumbs-up picture of Claffey, I end up giggling like I'm in high school once more
it's absurdly fun, and it reminds me how lucky I am that my imagination has finally returned to me, allowing me to write again
