Additional Tags: Empath Feyd-Rautha, Dissociation, Hurt No Comfort, I don't even like h/nc so idk where this came from, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, but it's not the Rabban brothers, you can do the math, Non-graphic death, Feyd POV, Feyd is around 7-8 years old, little man was just living his best life in Lankiveil
Series: Part 1 of Empath Feyd au
Summary:
Feyd had known something was wrong when he woke up that morning.
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AU where empathic skills are another Bene Gesserit talent and Feyd's mother kept his a secret.
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Ok but an empath au with the halfas though. Canon would go waaaay differently lol. Vlad's had this little chill in the the back of his head for months now that is nearly 24/7 fraught with anxiety and frosting him with fear. He's learned to control and compartmentalize it, of course, but he's so insanely curious about it. He has his theories, which yes, include an empathetic link with someone, and while he kind of hopes it's another halfa, he's (relatively) smart enough to realize that it's probably not possible.
(except one day he'd been driven to his knees by the phantom bolts of electricity tearing through him, leaving him in a twitching, spasming heap, and with a little patch of ice in the back of his head, nearly screaming in agony in a voice he doesn't recognize— but he doesn't dare hope.)
Though he doesn't know who it is, he'd tried as many tests as he could without risking harm to himself— mainly experimenting with if he could communicate with what seemed to be the other person's emotions, if he could potentially influence them. As far as he can tell, he can't actually change what they're feeling, but he can push his own emotions into the frost, like sending a cart over a bridge from his side to theirs.
He's managed to compartmentalize it to the point where he barely registers it most of the time, but there are a few nights where he wakes up in a panic, only to realize it's not his own— he feels chilled to the bone, stomach roiling violently with fear. At first he's angry, upset that they can't keep themselves in check, but he's been realizing that the moods of this person feel so young, so inexperienced. (Could they really be a child, so afraid?) And he's reluctant to hope, but what if it is a second halfa? It spurs him, perhaps against his better judgement, to shake off the ice and tend to the flames of his core, gathering the warmth, wrapping it around the thought of be calm, and sending it rolling gently over the bridge. (The restless soul settles, just a little. Vlad continues, and the fear begins to ease.)
Meanwhile, the first several weeks of being a half ghost has been absolute chaos for Danny. He's always on edge, always anxious, because he's having a monster of a time trying to wrestle his powers under control, and trying to not be caught by his parents, and not let Jazz find out, and suddenly other ghosts are targeting him. As such, it takes him a while to actually notice the tiny corner of warmth that sits in the back of his head. It's quiet, reserved, barely sparks at all, but it's a little flame there, all the same. He has absolutely no idea what it is, but it doesn't seem to pose much of a threat, doesn't really do anything, so he leaves it alone.
Then one night, when he's collapsed into bed after hours of ghost hunting, trying to get a measly hour or two of sleep before school, he jerks awake in a cold sweat, still seeing the twisted creatures from his nightmare. He vaguely realizes he's panicking. But then the flame, normally so quiet, starts to grow; warmth trickles in, with a calm rationale, like a strong hand resting on his shoulder. It makes him pause, startles him from his panic, for a moment. After a moment comes more and more as he begins to loosen and relax, until he feels warm from his head to his toes, like he's wrapped in blankets, like he's sitting next to a fire. Something soothing works to smooth out his frayed nerves, feeling like a hand running through his hair, a tranquil heartbeat pulse of patience. Danny falls asleep reassured.
then, of course, Vlad still wants to kill Jack, but hoo boy Bitter Reunions changes quickly. The emotions in the frost seem to suspiciously match how Daniel Fenton is acting. This Plasmius ghost growls at Danny and the the little flame suddenly crackles into a roaring wildfire fire. They put two and two together and just look at each other like "WHAT"
Ofc they manage to work something out and further badger cereal ensues
Person A is cursed that their emotions are contagious to those around them, no matter how hard they try to hide what they’re truly feeling, it rubs off on other people. Which means Person A struggles to hold jobs because whenever their around too many people, their emotions can affect everyone around them. Person B is their career coach who tries to help them get jobs where they can be fairly isolated from others, but since Person A struggled academically due to their curse they don’t have many qualifications to allow them to work from home, and so Person B manages to find them a job working as a night janitor at the office Person B works at. Person B is someone who stays late, but otherwise it’s fairly deserted. Person B ends up mentioning after a few months of Person A working that they always feel more relaxed whenever Person A is around.
here is something i just scribbled down in honor of you babe. i stole fatins_toothbrush's doctor OC from Scar Tissue bc i was too lazy to come up with my own name. read that fic tho it's good.
“Hyper empathy syndrome,” Dr. Haq said. “Rare but not unheard of, especially around here.”
“What does that mean?” Toni’s mother demanded. Toni kept her eyes shut, the bright lights combined with her mother’s agitation was making her dizzy.
“Did you take the drug excederinofin while you were pregnant, Ms. Shalifoe?” The doctor asked.
“It was prescribed to me. I had a back injury. What are you—“
“Studies now show babies born while the mother was using the drug have their emotional receptors in the brain damaged. Instead of receiving the chemical signals from just their brain—they receive it from all brains within a certain vicinity. Depending on how much the mother took, that range can vary.”
“This is the first time anything like this has happened,” her mother said.
“It presents in puberty,” the doctor said.
“Okay so what’s the cure?” Her mom asked.
“At this time there is none,” the doctor said.
“What?” Toni’s mom demanded. Toni groaned as the shock and ire joined her own misery, it all combining into a painful concoction. Her mother took her hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry, baby,” she whispered.
“There are treatments,” the doctor said. “Medicines that will reduce it. But they’re all very experimental. We can talk through it in another room?”
“Toni?” Her mother asked and her concern hit Toni like a freight train. “I’ll be back in a minute alright? Dr. Haq and I are gonna discuss some things. Do you want me to turn the light off?”
Toni nodded and in a minute the piercing LED bulb flicked off, the door shutting behind them.
The pills mostly work. They work the best they can when Toni’s mom can afford them and Toni can remember to take them. Sometimes she’s on her own and she just has to get through a day feeling every single hormonal kid’s emotions on top of her own.
But she could’ve sworn she took them when the teacher sat Shelby Goodkind next to her and Toni instantly felt the fear radiating off her. Fear and disgust.
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Well, guys, this is the end for this tale. Honestly, I think the main thing I wanted for this tale was that Will Graham finally got to create his own happy ending rather. I wanted him to be able to make home a reality. I hope you enjoyed, and thank you all so very much for your support.
I will be posting the sequel to Magnum Opus within a week or so, so stay tuned! :)
Chapter 23: The Unquiet Grave
Abigail doesn't fall asleep the way Will would have preferred her to. At his insistence, she'd woken up and gotten her things ready. At the expression on his face and the brusque nature of his voice, she accepted that they were leaving with Hannibal Lecter. At his exasperated grunt and shrug, she allowed that the car Dr. Lecter pulled up in was in no way, shape, or form the car he always drove. At his borderline parental tone at her hesitance, she plopped down in the back while Will drove and the doctor allowed the car-that-may-or-may-not be his to be commandeered.
Naturally, at his light suggestion ten miles into the drive that she lay back down and get some more shut-eye, she sat ramrod straight with legs criss-crossed in the middle of the back seat. Each time he glanced into the rearview mirror, he found her staring back. He hadn't spoken during much of their time since leaving the Great Red Dragon to his meal. After her reassurance that the injuries from the wreck were superficial at best, she'd remained quiet with her back to him on the spongy and suspiciously damp bed. From there she'd fallen to an exhausted sleep. If she hurts, she makes no comment. Only watches.
Hannibal sits with far more ease. He's content in the passenger seat to watch electric poles swing by in rapid fashion, the snow whipping by and blinding with each random flash of car lights in the distance. Will wonders if he'd slipped back around to grab the linoleum knife in order to get his revenge when Will least expects it.
I'm fond of you. Can you see?
Will envies his ease. Since he'd driven away from what had almost become his final resting place, ants marched along his skin and left vengeful rashes. Red Dragon with walls as high as mountains, Dolarhyde's decimated in his need to be Seen.
Pressed between the cold and the vending machines, Will had felt something powerful in how he'd been able to finally, finally see through Hannibal so easily, and yet...
Now, in the cramped space of the car, Will finds that he desperately wants to run. Run and run and run until his legs give out. He wouldn't get far; Will's pretty quite sure he couldn't get much more than a mile before falling into a ditch and letting the cold take him like Purnell likely will.
Will had let her do that. He'd shut his eyes and let her walk into the frigid night to die alone. Wandering the halls of his own mind palace, opening doors and peeking behind curtains, he's not quite sure if he can find the guilt he should be feeling right now. His body aches something awful, and bruises from the seatbelt had already formed in a striped fashion across his chest and neck. Small cuts had dotted his shirt a suspicious pink where the belt broke skin. He hadn't noticed until taking a quick shower.
"So many questions you must have to remain so silent," Hannibal observes once they find their way to the interstate.
Plows had long already gone through to pave the way, semis keeping most of the falling snow at bay in the aftermath. Giants alongside their lone, nondescript car. He imagined each one as sentinel as they passed by.
"He's waiting for me to fall asleep-" Abigail says sweetly.
"Abigail-"
"I don't mind her hearing what I have to say," Hannibal assures him lightly, as though that's the only thing tying Will's lips into a knot. He looks away from the window, and Will avoids his stare.
"Why are you going on the run with us?" Abigail asks when Will still can't speak. "No one could have ever figured you out."
I love the Empath Logan idea! Are you planning on continuing it?
Mmmm I dunno, usually the ideas I post are out there for anyone to pick up if they wanna use them for a fic. But I might post headcanons or something, as of yet..it’s just up to the people who find this thing kinda interesting.
