#and he speaks about her with some venom he doesn’t use for anyone else in the future arc

[makotonaegiunderstander]

something I’ve been thinking abt is how many people think Makoto is immune to despair. I don’t think he is. I think becoming the ultimate Hope was BECAUSE he felt despair. He wouldn’t have fully reached that point without Junko. Makoto becoming such a beacon was his last attempt to avoid completely falling and it wasn’t because he didn’t feel despair, it was because he was too damn stubborn to allow everything to go to waste and he refused to sacrifice his beliefs for someone else’s. His inner monologue tells me he DID experience the same new low the other suvivors did in the final trial, but at the point where he had the choice to give up and die, he looked at the others and he looked at Junko and he couldn’t allow it to happen, not out of self preservation, but because the idea that Junko would have control over their lives made him FURIOUS. and that utter refusal to die kicked in, wether luck or otherwise, and he made the concious effort for one last push while something in him was breaking. He had to be broken in order for the Ultimate Hope to come through so aggressively, bc it could only exist in the face of the Ultimate Despair. He snapped the same way she did, but in the other direction. In what could have been his final moments he chose to embody everything Junko wasn’t, and every single optimistic and luck fueled ideal in him suddenly charged forward and pushed him. It was a combination of the final straw and a choice. Makoto isn’t immune to feeling despair, he’s just too stubborn to fall into it of his own volition. I think that’s why I like that scene in DR3 so much. People were SO SHOCKED Makoto actually fell for the tape, that he actually became despair for a moment. I saw people getting mad or disappointed, saying it was pathetic and Makoto seemed to fall from some sort of pedestal for them. Honestly part of me wonders if that sort of mentality, which clearly people had in universe, affected Makoto a bit. Like he started to see himself as less of a person, subconsciously. Prompting him to take more risks, less self preservation, act way more bold. It seems he has to be reminded a lot not to put himself in danger by his friends, to not do something too reckless. All over the place I would see in regards to that scene either this frivolous ‘oh this was just angst drama with no meaning behind it’ or ‘he can do better than that. he’s so weak’ or ‘come on, there’s no way he’d fall into despair, he’s the Ultimate Hope!’ This kind of mentality, which was kind of ironic considering Ryota was there the entire time saying the same thing and treating Makoto the same way. Like Makoto was superhuman. Like Makoto didn’t feel despair the same way ‘normal people’ did. In a way that was also how Munakata saw Makoto. Makoto stopped being a PERSON to the world when he became Ultimate Hope, he became a concept, a belief system, much the same way Junko ascended beyond herself. But the difference is that treating Makoto that way is the opposite of the reason Makoto became such a representative for hope. He wasn’t doing something no one else could. He was doing something everyone had the chance to, he just… was a little more optimistic, a little more stubborn, a little more ‘gung-ho’ about things. He just took the lead where no one else did, where no one else knew they even COULD in the face of Junko’s unstoppable force. She had overcome the biggest threats and obstacles in the world, what could one person do? And the answer Makoto found was, anything. Everything. It doesn’t all rest on Makoto, he’s just the one that was inspired to try to do what seemed like the impossible. But as evidenced by the change in his friends after that trial, it’s clearly not something only Makoto is capable of. The others pulled out of despair thanks to Makoto, but it was their choice to do so.

“But… this world is so huge, and we’re so small. What can we do…? No, we can probably do anything. Yeah! We can do anything!”

[leaderwon]

HATE THAT...

chapter 55 — comforting unknown

Synopsis :- In a world where lovers are destined and written by fate, You hated the idea of a soulmate, or maybe you just hated him. Jake wanted a soulmate, a lover to be with for the rest of eternity. Just not you. Not wanting eachother, the both of you occupy yourself with someone else. But the universe had other plans.

luna's diary : my struggle to write this was actually real.

wc : 1.4k

prev — masterlist — next

The morning sun filters weakly through your curtains, casting pale streaks across your room. You sit up slowly, the weight in your chest settling in as reality seeps back in. Today is the day. The parent-teacher meeting where everything about Iseul’s harassment will be laid bare. You’ve waited for this moment, for the truth to come out—but it doesn’t stop the nerves twisting in your stomach.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed, staring blankly at the floor. A part of you is scared, anxious. The thought of everyone’s eyes on you, watching as you share those screenshots and messages, is enough to make you second-guess everything. But you remind yourself that this is necessary. After all the hurt, the lies, and the silence, the truth has to come out. You’ve been carrying this weight alone for too long.

You pull on your clothes, trying to shake off the lingering dread, and head out, bracing yourself as you make your way across campus. When you reach the meeting hall, a small group is already gathered: professors, administrators, and some students. The tension in the air is thick, and every glance in your direction feels loaded with curiosity and judgment. You glance over at your friends—Yunjin, Ningning, Huening Kai, Shotaro, and Jake—all of whom had sided with Iseul at first. They stand together, casting hesitant glances your way. You can’t ignore the sting of betrayal, even if they’re here now.

As the room quiets, you step forward, clearing your throat to get everyone’s attention. “Thank you all for being here,” you start, surprised at how steady your voice sounds. “I’ve stayed silent for a long time about what’s been happening. I kept thinking if I just ignored it, it would stop. But I was wrong. It only got worse.” You pause, glancing at the floor, gathering the courage to go on. “Iseul has been harassing me for months. I didn’t tell anyone because I was afraid no one would believe me. And when I finally tried to speak up, I was… shut down.” Your eyes drift to your friends, the words hanging between you.

The professors exchange glances, visibly surprised, but they don’t interrupt. Taking a deep breath, you continue, “Iseul spread rumors, twisted my words, and turned people against me. But today, I want to show everyone the truth.” With a shaky hand, you pull the pendrive from your pocket and pass it to the professor.

The lights dim as the video begins, displaying messages that no one can deny. Line by line, the reality of Iseul’s cruelty unfolds, each message colder than the last. The accusations, the threats, the venomous lies—it’s all there, undeniable and raw.

It’s undeniable. Every line is clear, every timestamp visible. A few gasps echo through the room as people realize the extent of what’s been said, the cruelty laced into every sentence. You watch Iseul’s parents stiffen, shock and embarrassment written across their faces as they look at their daughter, who now sits slouched in her chair, her face a mask of horror and shame. She’s no longer the untouchable, invincible presence she used to be—now, she looks small, exposed.

You glance over at Jake. He’s not looking at the screen; instead, he’s staring down at his hands, fingers fidgeting nervously. He hadn’t known the full extent of Iseul’s messages either, and you can see the regret etched across his face. His loyalty to Iseul had faltered once he learned the truth, but that realization had come too late. You’re grateful he’s no longer blinded by her lies, but the damage had been done. You’d faced the brunt of her words alone, while the people you thought would stand by you chose to believe the worst.

Iseul’s parents sit in stunned silence, their expressions shifting from disbelief to anger. Her father rises first, his voice low but sharp. “How could you do this?” he demands, while her mother’s face twists with disappointment. A harsh slap rings out as her mother’s hand meets Iseul’s cheek, leaving her momentarily stunned, a flicker of panic crossing her face.

Scrambling to regain control, Iseul’s eyes dart to Jake. She steps closer to him, her voice barely a whisper. “Jake, you know me,” she pleads, her hands reaching out in desperation. “You know I’d never do something like this, right?” But Jake’s gaze is cold, his jaw clenched. He takes a step back, shaking his head. “I didn’t think you could…but I guess I was wrong,” he says, his voice laced with regret.

Before she can argue further, the principal steps forward, breaking the tension with a formal announcement. “Iseul, effective immediately, you are suspended pending further disciplinary action,” he declares, the words final and unyielding. Iseul’s shoulders slump, the fight draining out of her as her parents usher her out of the room.

As the last of the crowd disperses, a weight lifts from your shoulders, replaced by a quiet, unfamiliar sense of relief. You breathe deeply, letting the air fill your lungs fully for the first time in months. It’s over. The lies, the manipulation, the endless, gnawing dread—they’re all over.

A burst of laughter and cheers interrupts your thoughts as Yunjin, Ningning, Huening Kai, and Shotaro approach, their faces lit with excitement. Ningning reaches for your hand, squeezing it with a warm smile. "You did it, Y/N. Finally." There’s genuine happiness in their voices, but beneath it, a tension lingers—an unspoken weight that reminds you of everything that’s happened between you.

You manage a small smile, feeling the tightness in your chest ease, but before long, you turn to leave. Just as you reach the door, Yunjin steps in front of you, blocking your path. “Hey, don’t go yet,” she says softly. “Let’s stay together, hang out for a while.”

For a moment, you’re tempted. It would be easy to go back, to slip into that comfort again. But then you remember all the times they doubted you, the way they chose Iseul’s words over yours without question. The sting of betrayal returns, sharp and undeniable. You shake your head, trying to keep your voice steady. “I can’t, Yunjin. I know you’re sorry, but it doesn’t change what happened. All of this…it damaged our friendship. I don’t think we can go back to how it was before.”

Yunjin’s face falls, and a quiet disappointment shadows her eyes, but she steps aside, allowing you to leave. As you step out, the quiet hallway stretches before you, offering a fragile sense of peace—until you hear footsteps behind you. Turning, you find Jake, hands shoved into his pockets, his gaze filled with regret.

“Y/N, please,” he begins, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can we just…try again? I made a mistake. I should have listened to you, I know that now.” You swallow, your heart aching as you meet his gaze. “Jake, I don’t think I can. Not after everything. This isn’t the first time. You hurt me when you believed Iseul over me—and that’s not something I can just forget.”

He opens his mouth to respond, but no words come. Instead, he looks at you with a desperate, pleading expression. “I know I’ve hurt you. I was wrong, I admit it. But I want to make it up to you. Please, give me a chance.”

You sigh, feeling the sadness settle over you. His apology doesn’t change the scars he left. “I’m sorry, Jake,” you say softly. “But I don’t think anything can fix this.”

With that, you turn away, leaving him standing there in the hallway as you walk forward, finally free from the weight of Iseul’s lies—and from the ties that once held you back.

As you step outside, the cool breeze hits your face, carrying away the remnants of the day’s tension. For the first time in what feels like forever, you feel light—unburdened by secrets, unchained from betrayal. There’s an ache in your chest where the closeness with your friends used to be, but somehow, that emptiness feels freeing. The road ahead is uncertain, but it’s yours alone, and right now, that’s all you need. With a final glance back, you let go of everything holding you down and walk forward into the quiet, comforting unknown.

TAGLIST (open!send an ask to be added) : @fertilizedtoesw @ynsvnte @jaeyunluvr @liinori @n1k1mura @syzavxy @alex-is-sleeping @hoondiors @baevsxii @rikimylove @enhaslxt @erehkinnie30 @desistay @ifuckedheeseung @haechansbbg @sumzysworld @simjyunnie @cha0thicpisces @noobgod1269 @sol3chu @potatosoulp1h @welovechaes @firstclassjaylee @miniature-tragedy @beommii @jiyechoi @dimplewonie @feeling-woozi @jjunie-0 @butterfliesinthenightsky @jindoriyam @iheartjayke @minthoons @dreamiestay @layla240 @heeseungismymanz @suneng @vixensss @woorcve @hyunjinheartbreakprince @blujk @electrobutterfly @dismaldiary @melancholy-z @missychief1404 @lhspeachie @grassbutneo @roryirl @heeheesang

© @leaderwon 2024. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[scarymonsters-andsupercreeps]

So… could we get some Mr. Crowley lore…. (IM STARVED) 🙏

Of course! I’m so happy someone is curious about him! I’m not 100% certain how his story is going to go just yet, so I’ll put a few ideas as well as some traits (below the cut because it’s a lot of rambling!)

I did a couple of doodles! The first one is of course how he looks hatless, and the second one is him using his stand to track someone.

If you haven’t read the stand explanation in his debut post, basically his closed eye is useless except to track someone who’s been hit by [Snakebite]. The venom shows up to him like a heat signature and he can track the victim down as it takes effect.

(I do recommend reading the debut post, everything below this point won’t make sense otherwise…sorry 😭)

He’s a sharpshooter, and you may be thinking it’s harder for him to shoot with only one functional eye. That’s actually not the case! Competitive target shooters actually place what’s called a blinder on their gun. It covers the eye they’re not using when they look down their sights. That way, they don’t have to close one eye for a long time. Mr. Crowley usually wears his eyepatch, and he did even before he got his stand.

His coat is also functional as a shooting jacket. The straps on his arms can be tightened or moved to basically immobilize his arms in the right position to hold his gun, meaning he doesn’t exert himself as much. This can also help with aim.

As a bounty hunter, he usually prefers if his targets never even realize he was there. He will pick them off from a distance with his rifle. For close quarters he uses a double barrel shotgun, and for hand-to-hand he has a machete or other knife. He likes his marks to be quick and painless, thus he rarely has to use his stand. But sometimes the target will have other ideas.

In terms of personality, he’s definitely more reserved than his brother Mrs. Robinson. He is a deeply angry person, and usually doesn’t talk much. If he’s upset he’ll stop talking altogether. He takes his job seriously, but has a strong moral code otherwise. No bystanders will be harmed, especially not children.

He was a very caring and gentle older brother when Mrs. Robinson was born. To this day Mr. Crowley has a soft spot for children and babies. If he can help it, he will make sure they don’t have to see him kill someone. He saw death at a young age and will not inflict it on someone else. Because of this he also won’t accept a contract if his target is a parent.

I think him being a touch hypocritical is important to his character. It’s good basis for him to have a big revelation. He still has a little bit of a heart left despite being hardened.

I want him to start out working under Valentine, but later encounter something that makes him change his mind. Kind of like Diego. I think maybe Valentine sends him after Lucy, and since she’s a kid, Mr. Crowley instead helps her to safety and likely dies protecting her.

I don’t know! I’m still working it out. This could all change, but I think at least the bones of it is right. I want him to betray Valentine, that’s for certain.

I haven’t decided if he ever meets anyone from the main cast, or if he’s able to save his brother. Mrs. Robinson wouldn’t even know him due to their age gap and circumstances, so Mr. Crowley would probably just keep his distance instead of complicating things. It has been in his best interest his whole life to leave him alone. He might decide to speak to Mrs. Robinson without revealing his identity, just to see him again.

I think he will spend most of the race showing up just enough not to be disqualified. Valentine wants him to keep a close eye on the racers, but he doesn’t need him winning. Mr. Crowley will probably keep his distance most of the time to most effectively watch any racers Valentine tells him to.

Speaking of the race, I should talk about his horse. His horse is a mare, named Ligea.

(I couldn’t resist a goth music name here since his other music references aren’t goth despite the fact that he is)

Mr. Crowley and Ligea are good friends and a good team. Ligea has been trained to allow Mr. Crowley to fire while mounted or use her saddle as a gun rest. She is also trained to bite anyone but him who tries to touch or mount her.

I haven’t designed her just yet, but I will soon!

I think this is all I’ve got for now! If you made it this far, thank you for reading. I’m so so happy people care about my weird ocs and listening to me talk about them!

If you want more I can make a shorter list of simple fun facts 😭 I’m sorry about how long this is, I wasn’t expecting to talk this much!

🖤💚

[querenciasturniolo]

little ramble below the cut.

tw: talks of anxiety and mental health, only take in what you can handle ! 🫶🏻

i’m watching the podcast episode, and honestly i can’t get over how much i love matt.

mary lou asked the question about reflecting back on their life and stuff, what would they do differently, and matt saying he let one day in 2014 affect his life for six years and that was upsetting to him, but he doesn’t regret anything, really made me think.

i’ve had a severe anxiety disorder since i was in sixth grade (that’s when it manifested, i was diagnosed when i was 18), and everyday i used to wake up practically paralyzed in my bed, unable to do anything but worry about what could possibly happen that day.

i was an absolute fucking MONSTER for nine years of my life. sixth grade to just two years ago, i was convinced that no one liked me, and instead of trying to push past my insecurities and my anxieties, i decided to give everyone a reason to hate my guts—and it worked. i was absolutely awful, i was nasty with my words, every sentence that came out of my mouth was like venom.

my mental health was in absolute shambles; i was beating myself up every single day about my thoughts, my intelligence, my face, my body, my family, everything, and because i was treating myself like shit, i turned it onto everyone else and started projecting. i was so disgusting in fact, that i didn’t care while it was happening.

i didn’t care that i was hurting other people, bc i was hurting as well. why should i feel bad for hurting them when I’M in so much pain ?

it took me literal YEARS to realize that my anxiety was the issue, not me. my anxiety was so bad, that it was manifesting into all of these festering insecurities, and in an attempt to keep other people from noticing my insecurities, i shut down and was silent, and when i was spoken to, my reply was always something horribly malicious.

i’m not proud of who i was, and i never will be. but, i can say that i’m proud of who i am now.

matt saying that, as corny as it sounds, was so eye opening. here i am, at 4:30am on a tuesday, crying as i type this, bc i wish i could give eleven year old me, fourteen year old me, and eighteen year old me a hug, and tell her how far we’ve come. she was doing her best, and i hope she’s proud of me, truly.

is my anxiety still debilitating and crippling ? it absolutely can be, but instead of seven bad days a week, i’ll have maybe one or two. am i still nasty towards anyone who dares to speak to me ? absolutely not, everyone deserves kindness until proven otherwise.

i’m not saying that magically over night, it will get better. but give yourself some grace, it’s your first time living a life, and no one does it perfectly.

you are absolutely on the right track for you as of right now, and who’s to say in ten, five, maybe even two years, you won’t change for the better ?

change is happening every single day, and sweetheart, even if you’re taking baby steps towards your better self, baby steps are still movement.

give yourself grace, give yourself love, and allow yourself peace.

i love you all, and if you read this, thank you.

thank you for giving me an outlet to show my gratitude for three twenty year olds who make goofy videos on the internet.

thank you, thank you, thank you 🫶🏻

[tobns]

all the lights went down in hollywood

from the writer’s desk: so, just right off the bat, for the full ~experience~ i recommend you read on ao3, as this is a multimedia fic and everything is formatted for that platform. but i know tumblr fics are slowly becoming a thing again, that’s where i came from and it’s who i’ll always be + i had some people asking, so here you guys go! disclaimer that there is adult material in this fic, so read at your own discretion. happy reading :’)

CHAPTER ONE: FEEL SO UNSTABLE, FUCKING HATE MY LABEL

"Gale is officially not coming back."

Clove wishes she could say this comes as a surprise, but it does not. If anything, it is a dull ringing in her ears, like someone's phone is bleating and they're just pretending to ignore it. The noise is akin to a nail-grating whine that digs underneath her skin.

Except the phone has been ringing for four weeks, and she is ready to rip her flesh off her body.

The suit sitting on the opposite side of the board table plows ahead, adjusting the lapels of his jacket as he speaks. "His team has finalized the paperwork, and as of tomorrow, March 13th, for all legal purposes, he will no longer be attached to The SeventyFourth."

Beside her, Glimmer rolls her eyes. "So why the hell did someone post the Twelve cover this morning to our Instagram?"

"Roxanne is contractually obligated to post to the band's Instagram at minimum once per month."

"Well why couldn't Foxy post that picture of Gale's bare ass? It's the least he deserves after he ditched us."

Across the table, the suit lowers his wire-rimmed glasses. "Ms. Dillon, Mr. Hawthorne provided you all with a formal resignation letter upon his entry into rehab. I'd hardly call that ditching."

Glimmer falls silent.

A formal resignation letter is pushing the envelope considerably. Emmett's still of the belief that Gale doesn't know how to form more than two complete sentences.

Really, they'd forced his hand. They couldn't keep pushing back tour rehearsals to accommodate for his broken heart. At some point, something had to give, and Clove would go to her grave with the truth if anyone decided to ask questions about her call history.

"You're drunk," Foxy warns as Clove starts fumbling with her phone, trying to get the face identification to do its singular job and recognize her as the owner. Apparently, when she's drunk, Apple tells too much of a difference between freckles and specks of glitter and deems her as another person entirely.

"Yeah, no shit."

Foxy's fingers start trying to pry the phone gently from Clove's grip, but Clove immediately swats her hand away, all but clocking her in the face with the point of her elbow as she wrestles herself out of Foxy's proximity. "Stop it," she spits venomously. "If no one else in this fuckin' group is gonna tell him the truth, then I will."

"Clove..."

Clove's face draws up into a tight line. "Foxy," she mimics. "It's bullshit."

"I'm not disagreeing with you, but—"

"But what?" Clove snaps. Her face falls, come on scrolling in her irises as she glares at her publicist. "Rox, this is shit and you know it. Katniss didn't do anything to him, he's a pussy who can't accept that he has always been and never will be anywhere but her friend zone. And now he's making the band suffer because he's suddenly twelve?" She huffs. "We named the album after the number of songs, not how old our fuckin' guitarist acts."

Foxy is silent, lips pressing together in an attempt to suppress the riot act she's dying to read Clove, but knows that ultimately, she cannot. As long as it doesn't grace the top searches of Google, it's out of her hands. Clove's always been a fish in her hands, slipping and darting from her grasp. Every time she thinks she's got Clove, there's a narrow escape back into the pond.

Clove manages to unlock her phone and gets into her contacts, finding Gale's name and violently pressing the call button. Every drone of the phone ringing only heightens her blood pressure.

"What the fuck do you want, Clove?" Gale answers on the third ring, his words slurred together. "'M not hashing this out with you."

"Oh, the hell you are," Clove snarls into the receiver. Beside her, Foxy is now physically biting down on her fist. "You're going to stop acting like a little bitch, you're going to pull your head out of your ass and you're going to be at rehearsal tomorrow. We are not waiting around on you to get over yourself."

"Fuck you," he groans.

"Know who else I fucked? Kat." The silence on the other end is so profound, she wonders if he hung up on her, but she knows she's got him by the throat. She almost wishes he could see the smug grin that so effortlessly drapes over her lips. "While you were whining after every show about whether or not she'd ever give you the time of day, I was with her in all those hotel rooms—"

"Shut up—"

"—and tour bunks, between her legs, making her say my name—"

"God, you are an insufferable cunt—"

"—and guess what? She didn't think about you once! Not one mention of you, ever!" Clove sneers into the receiver, a low laugh rumbling from her chest. "C'mon, Hawthorne, you didn't seriously think she and I wrote honey because we'd caught a marathon of the fuckin' L Word one night and thought it'd be a cute idea for a song."

There's more silence on Gale's end, so Clove takes that as her invitation to keep prattling on. "So if you're gonna be mad at anyone in the band, don't you dare be mad at Katniss for going out on dates with someone that is perfectly kind and normal and sane like she's got every right to. Be mad at the person who was fucking her behind your back for eight months knowing full well how you felt about her. I didn't give a shit about bro code, I don't regret it, and I'd fucking do it again."

"I can't believe you."

"Believe it." Clove switches hands, pulling the phone away from her ear and putting the receiver directly up to her mouth. "You better fucking be at rehearsal tomorrow morning, or you are out." Gale doesn't have an opportunity to protest; she forcefully ends the call and then throws the phone haphazardly over her shoulder. She hears the soft bounce it makes when it lands somewhere on the couch behind her.

Clove bends down, reaching for the shot glass she'd discarded and tossing it back. Foxy just stares at her with wide eyes, wordless. "What?" Clove asks calmly as the tequila carves a neat path down her throat. "I'm expediting the process."

"Yeah," is Foxy's hollow intonation, unsure of what the fuck to say. It's a good thing she said enough for the both of them, then.

Gale was never the favorite in the band. Once upon a time, he'd been tolerable. Those were the days when Madge was on keys, of few but meaningful words and they were opening for nobodies, when it didn't matter the way it does now. And then she left, and Emmett recommended they give one of his sister's friends a listen to see if she'd be a good fit. Katniss was, of course, and everyone loved her. Gale loved her the most, in a way that he was stuffing napalm into all of their cracks that he all but promised to come back and ignite later.

Clove knows she probably put more than just a toe or her neck out, telling Gale the truth, but it was just that: the truth. He never bothered to do anything about his insufferable crush on her, and that was far from Clove's problem. It became her problem when he dialed the dramatics up to an eleven and let the band get in the crosshairs. Twelve was their most successful record to date, got them nominated for three Grammys, and the Twelve tour sold out in minutes.

So, yes, it very much mattered when Gale started saying he couldn't be in the same room as Katniss and pushed tour rehearsals back. And then it really was her problem when he broke his hand after punching a wall, a direct result of their phone conversation, and pretended to go to rehab just so he could punish her by making everything screech to a grinding halt.

She really, really hated him.

"Furthermore—" Clove's never heard anyone use the word furthermore in a conversation that was not scripted by Shakespeare — "Within the terms of his release, Mr. Hawthorne would not be officially released from his contract within the band until a suitable replacement was lined up with the approval of the label."

"Yeah, what about the band's approval?" Marvel says, the steady rap of his fingers against the wooden table never faltering. "Imagine the label's still mad at me for that time I wrecked that golf cart—"

"—they probably are," Katniss chimes in.

"—and they give us someone worse than Gale as a dose of our medicine." He glances around the table at the rest of them, looking for support. "I mean, it's more than just a business arrangement. This is somebody we have to live with, in cramped conditions, for the next seven months. Do you want one of us to become a serial killer?"

"Mr. Dillon," the suit says in a disapproving tone, lowering the wire-rimmed glasses on his nose to glare. Marvel winces, slouching back into his seat; underneath the table, Glimmer has stomped on his foot as hard as she can manage, arms now folded across her chest and a triumphant smirk on her lips that she does her best to water down for appearance's sake. "Considering your own contract and moral clauses, I highly doubt that will be an issue."

"So, what are you saying?" Glimmer asks. "We don't get to pick our new guitarist?"

"It's not just a guitarist, from my understanding. If I'm correct, Mr. Hawthorne also did male lead vocals for the group's latest record."

"That's something Marv or Thresh can do." Clove sits up a little taller in her chair, finding herself nodding along with Katniss's suggestion.

The suit, on the other hand, is skeptical of this. "That may well be true, Ms. Everdeen, but it's of the label's perspective that Mr. Hawthorne's replacement should be able to replace him entirely."

Clove sighs. This is veering on the borderline of asinine and aggravating, and she's got shit to do. Namely, get her band in rehearsal, now that they are apparently back on track. "Okay," she interjects, lifting one of her hands. "So Gale's out, and now we've got to wait on the label to find someone to replace him, and we'll probably figure out who it is once Rox's contract obligates her to post it on the band Instagram. Is tour officially on?"

Suit clears his throat. "Tour is on, yes." He begins ruffling through the stack of papers he has spread out around him. "According to Mr. Abernathy and Ms. Trinket, replacement dates with the venues are in the process of being finalized. The European shows are, I believe, the only ones still up in the air. My understanding is that you will play Amsterdam instead of Po—"

"Okay then," Clove deduces with the clap of her hands. "So when do we start rehearsals? Is the plan still to open in Glendale?"

"Yes, but..."

"And do we have to actually wait for the label to tell us who's joining, or are we allowed to make recommendations and audition people we like?"

"I like that," Marvel nods fervently. "At least gives us some say in the matter."

"And that's how we found Katniss," Glimmer adds, thumb jambing in the direction of their now slightly blushing keyboardist. "She was a perfect fit."

Emmett shrugs. "Told y'all I had good taste."

"That you did, Threshie."

The suit looks visibly uncomfortable where he sits, Clove's sharp eye narrowing in on his body language. It takes only a second to conclude why he's behaving as though his tie is choking him. "We're not going to get to audition anyone, are we?"

Marvel's neck nearly breaks. "What? Why?"

Clove's eyebrows shift upward, and Suit opens his mouth. "Per the terms of his release from his contract, Mr. Hawthorne would not be able to officially leave the band until a replacement was lined up. It's my understanding that we are meeting today because the label signed a new lead guitarist to The SeventyFourth last night, and the paperwork for Mr. Hawthorne's departure was processed and finalized early this morning."

The dull ringing is back in her ears, but this time, everything around her sounds as though it has been plunged into water.

Quite a bit of her disdain for Gale stemmed back to the way that he made Katniss feel (read: like shit, and Clove hated to see her down), but the reason Clove could not stand him, even for the sake of professionalism, was the lack of control she was able to exercise regarding his mere presence. She's always in control, even when others think she's not.

It's why the rest of them throw the baton her way when it comes to leading the charge — and the band — without a complaint. It's because she gets shit done. She doesn't mind making hard decisions that must be made, starting difficult discussions that need to be had. Everyone in The SeventyFourth has always had a fair say, but typically it all boils down to Clove.

She's been doing this twice as long as the rest of them. She's seen shit, and while it doesn't make her better than any of them (she will never be able to play piano like Katniss, or make even the stoniest person crack a laugh like Marvel, or be half the woman Glimmer is or have the rationale Thresh has in any given moment) it incentivizes her to make sure The SeventyFourth is the best it can possibly be. And Gale was the weed that no matter how she tried to rearrange or disguise she simply could not prune. Gale was a force outside of the things she could control. She'd certainly thought about it, but there was no way to physically make him show up for rehearsals. There was no way to quell his broodiness. There was no legal way to be rid of him unless he did it on his own terms.

The only thing that could possibly be worse than having the tour continue to be delayed is hearing that they have already found his replacement, and Clove's got no fucking clue who they could've picked to invade her family.

Slowly, the conversation around her pokes and prods at her bubble.

"I'm calling Haymitch," is the first thing Clove hears clearly, Katniss spinning the chair around so her back is to Suit with her phone already out, unlocked, and mid-dial.

"That's not necessary, Ms. Everdeen, but if you'd like."

Marvel is halfway across the table with how far he is hunched over. "Why weren't we privy to that information? We should have at least been told that the label would be out looking for people; I mean, for fuck's sake, we've all been doing nothing for five weeks. We could've been looking on our own for someone to take his place."

Suit seems to be sweating, even if he's doing a damn fine job with his poker face. "These were terms mentioned in the contract when The SeventyFourth signed with Rose Garden."

"Are you telling me that I don't know how to read?"

"I'm saying that this should not come as a surprise had you read your contracts."

"Those are like the goddamn terms of service," Marvel grumbles. "Nobody reads them!"

"Marvel, shut up," Glimmer says in lieu of smashing his foot underneath her Louboutins for the second time. "You're making it sound like we're stupid."

"Well, we might as well be."

"How far are you from the Garden?" Katniss is saying into the phone, hand cupped around the receiver so Haymitch can hear her. "Did you know that they were finding someone to replace Gale?"

"When do we get to meet them?" Thresh asks, perhaps the calmest of them all. It's why he is the threshold for all of their bullshit: nothing rattles him. "Since they're officially part of the band, we shouldn't be left in the dark. If tour's back on, we need to get into rehearsals."

"I'm glad you asked." The voice does not belong to the suit, but rather a sandy haired man that has burst through the conference room doors with a phone still tucked against his cheek, broad smile across his face. He winks at Katniss, who is staring back at him with her mouth agape. "We wanted to make sure you all were in the same room first," he says, hanging up the call. "And here you all are."

Haymitch.

"What the fuck, Haymitch," are the first words out of Marvel's mouth. "You couldn't have told us?"

Both of Haymitch's hands lift in mock arrest. "Wasn't allowed to." The look he gives Marvel is utterly patronizing. "Can't read the contracts for you, I can only tell you to read 'em carefully." Marvel's eye is now twitching.

"Okay, so who is it?" Clove snaps, already nauseous with the back and forth and stalling. "Who's our new guitarist?"

If it were possible for Haymitch's smile to grow, the upward curve of his lips would be carved in his skin. "So glad you asked." He turns slightly, arms gestured out to the side. "May I introduce — or, for some, reintroduce to you..."

Clove's vision goes red, and she vaguely feels as though she might be sick.

"SeventyFourth's newest guitarist and male lead, Cato Hadley."

[mercuriallycooperative]

okay but like the story? about the last time Wednesday cried? when she was six? that was genuinely horrifyingly traumatizing as hell, like what the fuck.

(i think this has haunted her all through her life, and not in the fun way; and i think we see it more often than we know throughout the events of the show.)

like I think in some ways its gravitas can get hidden, a little, because Nero was a scorpion, and when you start off a story with “Wednesday was out taking her scorpion for a walk”, that’s an image that’s a little ridiculous and a little surreal, something not-quite-real; and because Nero was a scorpion, Nero was a bug (okay an arachnid but still) and I think at least in the US we don’t necessarily instinctively group those in with animals-that-can-really-be-pets-the-way-dogs-and-cats-are, unless we know someone that has one and we learn that yeah actually they can be; and in that same vein Nero-the-scorpion, Nero-the-bug, can sort of get lost in the shuffle of the idea of a generic sort of scorpion-bug, because we’re not exactly conditioned to tell one apart from the other, right? No more than we are for, say, beetles or cockroaches. “Wednesday’s pet scorpion” is the idea that is primed to stick in mind, not the fullness of the fact that “Nero, the scorpion” was a discrete being.

and like- okay, I do not speak for the world and the general success a media has with instilling an empathy is variable and emotions are hard but like- even watching that awful moment play out on screen, even knowing it’s awful because between the basic facts of the moment and the framing and the right proper acting how can it not be, even then I suspect that with how casual our socialization is with the death of carapaced creatures, Nero’s death doesn’t receive the full impact it deserves.

that is, emotionally, the audience doesn’t quite have time to really sit with the fact that at six years old, Wednesday was held back by some bullies and forced to watch her pet be crushed in front of her, for the crime of being hers. she had to watch the life leave his body along with his organs. she said it was snowing when she buried what was left of him; and the audience doesn’t get a chance to sit with the fact that this means Wednesday probably had to scrape up her pet’s mangled corpse by hand from the pavement and carry him home.

like. jesus fucking christ.

and you know what? you can bet she never did get any justice for Nero. no justice other than what she may or may not have taken out with her own two hands at some point later, anyway. because Nero was a scorpion and he was a bug and an arachnid and maybe venomous and people are scared of creatures like that and those boys were just playing around and it was probably just an accident, you really shouldn’t have had that thing out in public-

she was a child walking her pet, peacefully, harming no one.

(can you imagine if that had been a dog or cat? and those boys had held down a kid and crushed their dog or cat to death in a public street like that?)

i said, earlier, that I think this event has haunted her all her life. I don’t just mean with respect to how she decided that crying doesn’t solve problems, and that she wouldn’t be doing it again.

one might wonder, for someone like Wednesday who is so cavalier about causing grievous injury (to the people who bullied her brother) (to the person who killed Rowan and all those people), why she seemed to care that the school, her prison, might burn. one might wonder why she seemed to care that Rowan died, when he had literally just tried to kill her- not just cared for the mystery, cared for the death. one might wonder why she says her greatest fear has always been that she would be responsible for something bad-terrible.

Nero died for the crime of being hers.

i would be willing to bet that Wednesday doesn’t want anyone else dying for the crime of being in her vicinity. (unless she’s the one doing the murdering, anyway.)

i would be willing to bet she doesn’t want to be the reason, the cause of anything she doesn’t mean to do.

(i would also be willing to bet she doesn’t want to lose people, especially not because of her own... just existing in the way she does; i think that might contribute to any natural tendency she has toward being standoffish, and possibly also why she took the falling out with Enid quite as badly as she did. but my personal thoughts about how Wednesday tries to bond with people can wait.)

there are events that shape your childhood. for better, for worse, they write themselves into your bones and make a home in your lungs and stain you in their blood.

i would reckon that Nero’s death was such an event, for Wednesday.

[ihasafandom]

Part 2/??

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So for Eddie’s arc let’s have him learn that he needs to open up and allow himself to listen to and rely on other people. He can’t go around behind other peoples’ backs, and he can’t lie to the people in his inner circle. This will connect back to his flaws in the first film, where he tried to do everything himself his own way without considering how other people would feel about/react to that or reaching out to any of his contacts or allies for help or anything like that.

Venom meanwhile got hints of it in the first film, but we need to double down on it learning the value and meaning of community and friends and allies and all that. In theory Eddie has some of that, but he also tends to throw them away so if we can have Venom glom on and stick that’ll be good for them both in the long run (not a necessity for a good story, but I like when partners fill eachothers’ weak spots.

As for the relationship, we need them both to go on a journey where they realize that/why they care about eachother, and come to value that enough to compromise and work to find their balance.

They also both need to temper their impulses and instinctive responses to be able to think thing through and not just rush in guns blazing, though that might be a series arc and not just for the one movie.

Probably makes the main thrust of this movie something along the lines of: People and relationships are important and irreplaceable, but also hard work and compromise. They are well worth the effort of doing things right.

Which gives us some nice points to invert for our villain trio.

And speaking of villains, the villains and side-characters need arcs too.

In the film, Cletus wants to tell his story, wants to escape, wants to find his girlfriend, wants to get married, and wants to wreak havoc and kill people.

Scream wants to escape, wants to find her boyfriend, wants to get married, and wants to wreak havoc and kill people.

That’s all perfect for what the film wants to do (I have not read the comics and know nothing about scream, don’t at me. But also do, maybe you’ve got some ways to sell all of this better) 100%, no notes.

Where this breaks down is when it comes to Carnage itself. We get very little of its motivations, and we don’t get much between the symbiote and Casady, and even less between it and Scream. And what we do get isn’t compelling. It seems clear to me that they were trying to do a parallel to Eddie and Venom here, but it lacks the clarity and follow-through to really work.

Also AFAIK Carnage symbiote is supposed to be she/her and it’s a bummer that it’s not in the movie though I am always gonna be a “symbiotes are it/its first and anything else second” truther.

So to fix it:

Carnage is newly born straight off of the “we should be able to do what we want with no morals/consequences/limits” argument that Eddie & Venom were having and bases its initial personality off of that. Its motivation is that it wants to murder-party its way across the Earth. It sees Cletus as a good time and it is covetous of him as a host. It wants a match at least as good as Venom’s, and it wants its host to have things that make them feel hedonistically good, but it does not respect Cletus and it doesn’t care about Scream herself.

Cletus loves Scream. And he appreciates the abilities and possibilities that Carnage brings to the table and the way that their goals and desires align, but nothing more than that. People are a means to an end, to be used as he sees fit. To be manipulated and lied to without a thought. He doesn’t care to tell Scream about Carnage being its own being, all the better to bask in the glory of saving her and being powered up all by himself. He doesn’t care to explain to Carnage how the world works, or to reel it in, preferring to ramp it up for the carnage and chaos and pretend that it was all his idea.

Scream loves Cletus, but she is jealous and suspicious. She acts up whenever Cletus seems to have anyone else important in his life, and is even more dismissive of the people around them as little more than backdressing and playthings at best. She has skills and knowledge, and tries to use them to plan their future, but gets ignored by Cletus overruling her opinions and choices unless he is in a “yes, anything for you, everything you say will be done” mood. When she finds out about Carnage she is HECKIN jealous. How dare he have someone even closer to him than she is?

The marriage going from the two of them to the three of them is a peace offering without solving the underlying issues. And when Cletus ignores one of Scream’s choices – the officiant or somethign and Scream gets mad and Carnage slaps her for ruining their big day and then Cletus fights with Carnage for hurting his love, that is the crack that weakens them enough for Eddie and Venom (with backup) to eventually win the day. Their bond is stronger, they have put in the work, they have laid out a support network and talked about their needs, and in the end they will prevail because they have a healthier relationship for it.

This is of course diametrically opposed to how the actual movie played it, where Eddie and V got back together with no actual changes and out of desperation but the movie still kind of tried to imply that they won because their bond was better? Nah, you gotta earn that, on both sides, and we’d seen more problems on the protagonist side than the antagonists’ by far at that point.

Part 2/??

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Carnage re-write P1

So I woke up today with Words in my head and instead of assisting with any of my ongoing fics my brain has decided to re-write Venom 2: Let There Be Carnage ://

So I guess we’re doing that. (Originally a quick outline; cleaning it a bit and posting on Feb 6 for @symbruary's Fix-It day)

Post 1/??

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The movie had pretty effects and a decent soundtrack and some good action, but what it lacked was the heart and comedy of the first film (and the good good deep Venom voice, why is he so squeaky and annoying now??? (T o T) )

I’m not a comedy-writing person, and I’m not gonna be doing an actual fic or screenplay for this, so I’ll be keeping to the heart part. What gives a piece its heart I thnk are its emotional throughlines. Each character and relationship having their own story where they change from how they are at the start to how they are at the end, and having that story be concretely present and observable as the movie/book goes on.

There were hints of that in Venom2 but a lot of them fell flat, didn’t go anywhere, or didn’t have a satisfying change.

For example: both Eddie and Venom are frustrated with their relationship for X reasons. They fight, they separate, they do things on their own, but when they come back together they haven’t resolved any of the reasons that they broke up in the first place. Everything’s just magically better for no reasons and we are supposed to intuit that they are good for eachother and that they have improved as partners but we never really see that happen. Just a forced capitulation on Eddie’s part and the same traumabonding and extreme circumstances that made them work as a team in the first movie.

Another thing that sucked was how they dumped the uniqueness of certain characters and plots and emotional beats from the first movie to retread the same old tropes from everything else. Dan was unique and widely beloved in my parts of the fandom for not being a jealous jerk. He admired Eddie’s journalistic work, he dropped his dinner to do doctor work without complaint, he trusted Anne, and he didn’t fall into the stupid romcom plots even when Anne brought them up. Focused, intelligent, useful, kind, caring. A breath of fresh air. Entirely unlike how he acted in the second movie.

So let’s fix that.

Situation at the start of the movie:

Eddie is depressed, frustrated, and stressed. He is not used to being the self-control in a relationship, and is trying really hard to keep to his morals. He also needs to make enough money to keep them in food and home. He is lonely; he misses Anne and Maria and people in general since a large part of his solution to Venom is isolating them in their apartment so that they don’t eat people and don’t look crazy in public. He is spending all of his time and energy either trying to do work or keeping Venom entertained, controlled, and fed. He also might need some mood-stabilizing meds, he seemed heckin ADHD and/or autistic in the first movie.

Venom is stressed, bored, and starving. It is not used to not being able to do whatever it wants (bar keeping its head down around other symbiotes higher on the pecking order), it is not used to having to cooperated with a host, it doesn’t understand Eddie’s morals, it doesn’t understand Earth, it doesn’t understand money, it doesn’t understand human relationships and society. It needs higher quality food (mammalian, more variety, more human-specific chemicals since it’s bonded with a human), it needs enrichment, it needs to understand more about what its new situation is.

They both need to communicate and understand eachother and learn to find a balance that will get them both what they need. They also need a support system and an income stream.

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[sir-yeehaw-paws]

Thinking about Les Enfants Terribles again and how much I’d love to do a proper meta on Zero sometime if I can wrap my head around what I think he’s like a person vs what little we get of him as a whole. Because there really is just something so incredibly sinister about that whole thing, from start to finish.

Like, the whole thing is absolutely monstrous even on a surface level, but it’s this bit here that has me thinking, repeatedly, “Wow, people, be they children or adults, mean absolutely nothing to Zero as people.” If anyone sees people as tools, then I believe Major Zero would be firmly up there.

Now granted, in another post I’d like to point out he like every other character is much more complicated than that, and I do think he has some genuine feeling towards other people, but his obsession with Snake is..something else. And unlike say, Ocelot, I can’t even explain it away with something as (far easier IMO) as romantic interest and personal obsession within that. Because while Zero does think of Snake as a friend (and says so in his own private tape), he’s ultimately so desperate to keep whatever makes Snake, ‘Snake’ the perfect soldier, the ultimate weapon alive that the consequences and body count apparently matters little in the end.

Honestly, even the project title is..hardly encouraging.

That’s one way to put it, Ocelot.

Enough so that the project was considered ‘unsustainable’ and thus abandoned, after what I’m going to assume was the creation of Solidus. We know Solidus (George) was created sometime after Eli and David were. But I’m of the belief that it takes a very..particular mindset in the first place to be so desperate for someone to, essentially, procreate, that they use their DNA without their consent, suffer the trials of multiple failed subjects and then don’t even bother to make sure that the RESULT of that project (aka living, breathing human beings) are even properly cared for and looked after.

Because no. Zero does not make sure the boys are kept safe. At all.

In varied foster homes, yes. Now I know damned well that not all foster care is bad. But David himself alludes to having something of an unstable upbringing. And I don’t understand why Zero bothered separating them to begin with, but that’s another thing.

And speaking of Eli,

When Eli disappears nobody, especially not Zero, bothers to find him. They fully, willingly left a child that they created with the express purpose of one day fulfilling the goal of the perfect soldier, and even at this point just a KID, vanishes. And nobody does a THING about it.

Eli has super strength, an attitude and speaks two or three languages. But he’s also still TWELVE YEARS OLD. Meanwhile the most Zero could be bothered was to put David in various homes in the USA, and wait until he turned 18. Knowing full well that he’d probably end up in the military.

Maybe Zero figured that if Eli survived, it’d be a testament to the project at large, and a sign of how ‘successful’ it was. But that doesn’t change the fact that he just lets these kids that only exist because of HIS desires for perfect soldiers, get abandoned.

(It’s interesting to me too that the only other people we know to be on par with this kind of belief about people is Dr. Clark, though we never hear her thoughts on it, and Huey, who goes on and on to Venom Snake about how ‘much of a loss’ it’d be if Snake’s genes ‘died with him’. That’s the kind of moral ground Zero appears to be working on.)

The most detailed information regarding Les Enfants Terribles comes from MGS4, (see here, though there are no subtitles, please refer to this video to cross reference the points I make below). We know from the description Eva gives to Solid Snake in this briefing that the project was:

Designed to create the ‘perfect clone’ of Big Boss. Whom was seen as ‘the ultimate soldier’.

There were dozens of failures.

The successful egg came from ‘Dr. Clark’s assistant, a healthy Japanese woman’.

Eva willingly offered to surrogate.

I want to put some emphasis on that as well. The woman who contributed her egg to the project is never once mentioned in game by name. Now, granted, an egg donor can choose to be anonymous, but it ends up looking like Zero cares so little about people as people that who the donor is here hardly matters, as long as the end result is his perfect soldiers.

Furthermore, I’d like to refer to the MGS Fandom Wiki’s Entry on the Les Enfants Terribles Project, for some added information, namely:

It wasn’t enough for Zero and those involved to create the clones in the first place, but they had to make damned sure that those clones would never be given the freedom or autonomy of making decisions about something like reproduction, or about the kind of life they could live where they have the ability to grow, mature, and enjoy their time naturally. Because they were essentially programmed with self-destruct terminator genes to keep them from being a threat. Zero didn’t just have clones made, Zero had clones made that would eventually self-destruct and never make children of their own, because these fundamentally are not people to him, and they never were.

Nobody even TELLS David this, mind you. Now granted Zero is fully unable to communicate by the time David learns about the existence of Les Enfants Terribles, and Liquid didn’t know about the rapid aging either. Solidus somehow found out on his own. In the end, an aging David is left with Otacon to figure out the truth for himself. Going through a battery of Dr’s tests and hospital visits until they are able to put the pieces together.

Zero created, abandoned, and ultimately completely used and destroyed three people (and destroyed the trust and relationship he had with Big Boss) all for..what? To have perfect soldiers that, in the end, never accomplished what he wanted in the first place. Which if anything else is some karma for the man.

What Zero DOES care about, is control.

His specialty is controlling information, but in the same tape he tells Ocelot matter-of-factly, that if someone does find Snake, he’ll deal with them. And the tone of his voice is enough to imply that he means violently.

Liquid is defeated by David. Solidus is defeated by Raiden and David himself goes against being a soldier entirely and turns to destroying the war economy and most if not all of what it stands for. David dies, but so do the Patriots.

I’d also like to point out that Zero’s inability to see people as people appears to extend beyond the children, and while it might seem out of place in this essay, if I ever do go into my attempted meta of Zero’s character, I think it bears some mention.

It’s how Zero talks about Venom.

THAT’S AN ENTIRE GODDAMNED PERSON ZERO!! THAT IS A HUMAN BEING!! THAT IS AN ENTIRE! PERSON!! A COMATOSE! PERSON!

It’s also VERY interesting to me how subtly manipulative Zero is towards Ocelot in this tape.

So much to think about there. Another time.

It’s also telling to me that, for all Big Boss doesn’t like the kids, he still has more grace regarding them than Zero does. He does say what they are is sick, but he also makes sure Ocelot knows he still thinks of them as humans, and wants them treated as humans.

The tone of these tapes cannot be adequately conveyed in my analysis, but at the end of the day, the entire existence of Les Enfants Terribles is one of the darkest, overarching plots of Metal Gear as a whole. Watching David in MGS4 and thinking about how a man so driven by his obsession with another man, a man who at the end of the day wasn’t even superhuman, all for the sake of..what? And the trail of bodies in his wake as a result.

I do want to analyze Zero better sometime. He’s terrifying and fascinating and while we don’t get much about him, what we are given is pretty tantalizing, and I suppose I could’ve just summed all this up as “Les Enfants Terribles’ is sinister as hell.” But I’m a windbag, what can I say? And how I was feeling bad for kid Eli.

[unpossession]

unholyrite​.

Taylor would never let herself be so vulnerable if they weren’t were they were.    If she wasn’t on the brink of losing the only family who cared about what she wanted. Standing at the bedside like it were already an open casket. It unsettles her enough to know that time is fleeting, short. Weeks without Willow felt like months, years. She doesn’t want it to be that way again. As she is pulled into another hug, she throws her arms around Willow’s shoulders with a desperation. She needs her to know she needs her.  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I love you, too.”  It’s all she can manage to say back. Everything else is caught up between the lump in her throat and her tongue. She had done as she always had, stuck her nose into other people’s business, and as it always had before, it bit her back. She had always thought Willow to be someone safe, kind. Those pages haunt her, and she knows that it will never be the same, but she can only hope that it will still be comfortable. Taylor lets out a little groan, trying to push back the tears that won’t stop coming, when she hears a little knock on the door.  “Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt –”      the doctor is back, standing politely in the doorway and looking in to what must be such a regular occurrence for her.

Willow  has  always  tried  to  be  someone  safe  and  kind.        But years of suppressing her darker parts, of having them cultivated in private by beastly men who water and feed her nightmares like venomous orchids, has left her thorny on the inside. She keeps everyone at a safe enough distance so that they don’t harm anyone, but Taylor leapt over those barriers put there for her safety and triggered an outburst that has been years in the making. Since even before her possession. 

She never thought she would ever hurt anyone. She’s never wanted to. But she was backed into a corner, she was being poked and prodded and became animal. Vicious. 

Willow glances over at the doctor, expectant, a little afraid. The woman stands tall and speaks slowly, so as to help the girls understand and navigate the medical jargon they’re being hit with. Willow nods, although she doesn’t understand most of it, and holds Taylor’s hand tightly though the diagnosis, prognoses and treatment plans. 

Hypoxia, traumatic brain injury... Swelling of the brain, oxygen deprivation. They’re all very scary words. Like waiting, like touch-and-go, like we won’t know until he wakes up. Willow tries her hardest to keep hopeful in the onslaught of information being flung her way and keeps her back straight. This might be the best posture she’s kept since her aunt’s funeral. She grits her teeth as the doctor looks to Taylor. 

           “We have some documents we need you to sign, as next of kin... To discuss your options and the lengths you’d like us to go for your brother, if it comes down to it... Would you mind following me for a moment and we can go through it together?” 

[ardentmuse]

Perchance a Parchment (George Weasley x Reader) - Part 7

Harry Potter - George Weasley x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 3k

Summary: Series finale! With the business sold, George pursues a friendship. But with a friend like George, and a lover like Rhubarb, what is a woman’s heart to do? 

Series Masterlist // Masterlist

A/N: Apologies this too me years to actually finish. I’m glad it is done, though I do have vision for an epilogue. I love George and I want to do more one-shots with him since this story just lost steam for me. Also since this story is based on You’ve Got Mail, we had to include the final kiss gif! 

“I think that’s the last box,” Patty says from the living room of your new flat. Cardboard and tape cover the floor in a spread that denotes only chaos. You throw the last shipping label onto the package and let out a breath.

“Every last unsold book, boxed and ready to head to a home that needs them,” you smile.

“How you managed to connect with so many schools and children’s programs, I’ll never understand.”

You let out a laugh, “You don’t have to wonder. George reached out to his brother Percy who works at the ministry. He basically just printed me out a list and I sent some letters.”

Patty falls down onto your couch and raises an eyebrow your way.

“Just George now?”

You turn to her with a hand on your hip.

“What’s that question supposed to mean?”

“I’m just saying, that’s a big change from a month ago when he was just Weasley and you said it with such venom I thought you were speaking parseltongue.” 

Heat spreads across your cheeks, and you know Patty sees it. But she isn’t wrong. It’s been a big change in such a short period of time. It started with George showing up the day the closed sign was officially placed on your store, offering any help you might need with moving out the last of your things. At first, it felt a little patronizing, like he was simply trying to get to your space more quickly. But one look at his smile and the way he kicked at the ground, nervous you might say no, made it clear he was really only trying to be helpful. And George has yet to fail you on that front. He moved boxes and furniture. He sat with you over tea as you debated your next step and hunted for a new flat. He used his family of contacts to get these books to new homes. And all of it he did without any air of superiority you always assumed the Weasley twins would have. He was open, honest, kind, funny, distractingly handsome, and worst of all, exactly what you wanted. He wasn’t complacent like Tom. He didn’t fill space the way he seemed to around everyone else. No, with you he gave you space to grow to meet him. He stepped back so you could step forward— always there, always listening, always supportive. And while you could not be sure you were ready for love again, you were having a hard time picturing that future with anyone else.

“Do you just want me to admit it, Patty?”

She smiles sweetly at you, playing with a rogue curl that fell in front of her face. “I’d love nothing more, darling.”

You let out a long sigh, “I’m falling for him, okay? But—”

“No buts, Y/N. None. Life doesn’t happen on some arbitrary timeline. You don’t have to wait some set amount of time to be over Tom—”

You shake your head at her, “I don’t care about Tom. It’s just…”

Patty frowns, her expression confused. “Rhubarb?”

You nod and sit down on a box, your head between your hands.

While George had been everything you wanted in his actions, Rhubarb had been everything you wanted in words. Falling for George meant having to acknowledge the reality that everything George was doing was simply friendship. And if you interpret his actions as more, that wasn’t because he did anything to make it so. Every coffee date ended with a smile, a “See ya later,” and a quick hug, one that didn’t linger and didn’t presume. Sure, maybe some of it was flirting, but George Weasley making a woman laugh was not some great seduction tactic, it was merely George being himself. You were just victim to his naturally charming personality.

But with Rhubarb, there was no guessing. Rhubarb spoke all the things you would love to hear from George’s ears. Words of passion, desire, longing, interest. Words of a man who wished for something real and deep, to know you heart and soul. But he had also stood you up before. Words were nothing without actions.

It was becoming hard to decide where you should invest your energies: the man who is present but may not see you as more than a friend, or the man who is absent but who wants you with conviction. Why couldn’t you have both?

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. With a quick look at Patty, you answered. 

“Sorry for intruding,” George said, his hand running through his hair and the shoulders of his jacket wet from the sudden showers. “But when it started raining, I thought you might need a hand getting those boxes to the train.”

He lifted his face, granting you the sight of that breathtaking smile surrounded by those rosy pink lips and that skin covered in a constellation of freckles. Your hand was raising to touch them before you could stop yourself.

“Y/N?” George asked as your fingers grazed his cheek.

You caught yourself, feeling the awkward intimacy of the moment immediately. Your fingers brushed his soft skin. Your faces were far too close together. Your eyes were locked on each other in curious question. 

Your pulse quickened as you managed to stutter out, “You’ve got some rain on your cheek.” You brushed the invisible droplet with the pad of your thumb, George’s inquisitive eyes trained on you the entire time. And when your finger finally left his cheek, he smiled.

“Told you the rain would be a problem.”

You laughed, and somehow George moved closed. He didn’t pull away, leaving your body electric with the need to touch him again.

Only then did Patty hum.

“George, thank you for helping her. I’ll let you two get to it.”

She walked over and kissed my cheek before slipping out the door behind George. She winked at me as she turned down the sidewalk.

George stepped into my flat fully and took in the boxes. 

“Wow, you really are doing a lot of good. You’re far too kind for this world, Y/N.”

When he turned around, he took me in his arms, making me gasp. He held me tight, his voice close to my ear.

“I know I’ve said sorry a million times, but I hope you know how truly impressed I am with you. You’re gratuitous and giving, hardworking and smart. You’re sassy and sensitive. I know whatever comes next, you’re going to be just amazing.”

He breathed into my neck and suddenly it all snapped. Every feeling of friendship dissipated with that single breath and the goosebumps it created. 

You pulled away, looking up into George’s eyes. Once again, his only shined with curiosity. But when you began moving your face towards his, he didn’t pull away. And when your lips touched, those goosebumps only spread, moving with them a shiver that radiated from your fingers to the very tips of your toes. And when he kissed you back, nothing could have felt more kinetic.

“Y/N…” George whispered against your mouth before pursuing yours once again. And as you met him with the same enthusiasm, you had to pull away. 

George’s eyes grew with confusion as he slowly regained himself, his grip on your back loosening.

“George…” you tried to explain, but there weren’t words yet. 

He gave you a smile, somehow understanding without even needing to hear a word.

“How about I take a few of these boxes and we can talk again tomorrow?”

“That’s… thanks, George.”

You couldn’t even lift your head to watch him leave, but you heard the door close. With a stabilizing breath, you went over to your writing desk. Letters from Rhubarb over the past few weeks littered the top. You read a few, trying to understand the swirling emotions inside yourself.

Cherry,

I thought about you today when I picked up my morning paper. The woman at the counter was reading a book about the Knights of the Round Table— a serious historical breakdown, not the adventures you’ve shared with me. And somehow it seemed so silly that something that could be filled with such magic was being boiled down to facts and figures, devoid of life and meaning. 

It’s kind of like love. You can analyze it forever, work out your pet peeves, your pleasures, take all the right steps to finding the perfect person. But the adventure — the magic — that’s what makes a love story worth reading. 

We may have not had the perfect path. Hell, we may not even be the perfect pair. But you are magic, Cherry. Perfect magic. 

Your Rhubarb.

My sweetest Cherry,

I know things are tough right now. I also know things are incredibly exciting. You have the world ahead of you, and no one is prepared for what you’re going to bring. If you open another store or use your cultural skills with the ministry or try something completely new, you’ll do it because you’re a capable woman. The possibilities are endless and that’s as scary as it is thrilling.

That’s what I felt that night we were supposed to meet. Fear and exhilaration, anxiety and anticipation. What a complicated set of emotions. You stole my heart, you did, but you also took away every safe barrier I’ve ever created for myself to keep the hurt away. 

You are my greatest potential pain. My greatest potential gain. And just like you now, standing at the precipice, there are so many possible directions, some good and some bad, some with joy and some with pain. But knowing joy is possible is a beautiful thing.

Whenever you’re ready, I’m here to take a step off the precipice with you. I’m ready to fall, no matter where we land.

With love,

Rhubarb

Tell me Cherry, how are you liking the new apartment? Are you making the space all your own? I can picture your living room filled with your favorite books, but also a ton of materials for hosting others. What does that sentence even mean? What are materials for hosting parties? Pillows? A bar cart? I don’t know, but I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it inviting for everyone.

I believe I told you I have quite the large family, and my mother loves to host parties, even though we never have the space for it. Her biggest secret to hosting success is to keep everyone well-fed. I’ll send you a serving tray once you let me know the color scheme you’re going for in the kitchen. Maybe someday you’ll let me attend one of your parties. I can’t wait until the day that I can hold my arms around your waist, kiss your head while you greet guests, telling everyone how delicious your pastries are. I’d be a very proud man having you on my arm. So, so proud.

And even proud now,

Rhubarb

With a heavy sigh, you took your quill in your hands. Diomedes rubbed his face into your knuckles, pushing the ink towards the paper.

Dearest Rhubarb, 

Your support over this past month, as my world came crashing down around me, has meant so much. While you haven’t been able to be here in person, the words you have penned have made me feel seen in a way I didn’t realize I needed, that I didn’t realize I had missed for so long. You’ve given me confidence, and for that I am thankful.

But I also must be honest, not having you here in person… it has made it hard for my heart to know what it wants.

Let’s meet. Tomorrow at 6PM in Queen Mary’s Rose Garden in Regent’s Park. I can’t promise anything, but I need to know who you are. I need to see your face. I want to see what could be… I just need to know.

Cherry 

“Fred, god, what do I do?” George screamed at his brother while shaking your note in his hands.

Fred shrugged and stoked the fire. “I told you lying was a bad idea.”

“That’s precious, Fred, when lying is basically the only reason we have a business.”

Bill stood in the corner, looking out the window where your Diomedes had just entered, flying only a couple blocks from your flat. Bill chuckled to himself at the realization that if you had just watched your bird as he flew out into the night, this all would have been solved without any chaos.

“And what’s so funny over there, William?” George asked, his voice still laced with desperation.

“You know I’m going to tell you what I’ve always told you. This isn’t your decision alone. It’s Y/Ns. You have to put yourself out there. If she reciprocates, great. If she’s absolutely fuming and never wants to speak to you again, well, you have to take that, too.”

George fell onto the couch, his arm thrown over his head dramatically. 

“I’m supposed to just walk into that park tomorrow and let the woman I love with every fiber of my being — a woman who just kissed me today and blew my mind with how good she made it feel — just walk away from me forever?” “If she wants to, yes.” 

George let out an angry grunt before stomping over to his desk.

His quill moved over the paper faster than he thought possible. But he didn’t want to second guess himself. He just had to do it.

My Cherry,

Wear red. And I’ll be carrying my copy of the Merlin Adventures.

See you at 6PM.

All my love,

Rhubarb

George hadn’t reached out yet today like he said he would, which was odd for the George you had been coming to know. George was chaos, yes, but only in the frantic way his mind sometimes worked. In the practical, George was consistent and steady, more like a river than a monsoon. Strong and powerful but peaceful and predictable, not nearly what you expected when you first met the twins. 

But maybe not hearing from George was a good thing. It took away a lot of the conflict you felt about today’s meeting. You had feelings for two men in completely different ways. And the feelings for both came with their own complications. Rhubarb was a ghost, a phantom who could mold himself to be just who he needed to be to please you. George was real, warts and all, but a new friend and a previous enemy. It was tenuous at best to assume that George might feel the same way, even if he did reciprocate the kiss. But that could easily be brushed aside. Men like when women kiss them, even if they don’t necessarily want to be emotionally involved with them. 

But god, did you want it. The kisses, the emotions, all of it…

Pulling you from your thoughts was the sound of footsteps. It was close to dinner time now and families could be seen using the park to cut through to their homes for the night, or to play games with friends. A breeze blew through the trees and as you wrapped yourself tighter in your red slip dress, a tweed jacket fell on your shoulders.

“Don’t go catching a cold on me now, Cherry.”

You turned your face upward to spy the warm freckled cheeks and beautiful smile of George Weasley.

“Thank you, George,” you said with a smile, only then processing what he just said.

Your eyes traveled down to his arms, which hold a copy of your favorite book close to his chest.

“It’s you…” Your voice was a whisper. George looked in your eyes, unsure what you would do next. The fear and doubt you saw there hurt.

Soon you were up from the bench and tossing yourself into his arms.

“It’s you,” you breathed into his neck, “Merlin, I had hoped it was you.”

George dropped the book, his arms wrapping snuggly around you as his voice let out the biggest, most beautiful laugh.

“And here I was thinking you were going to punch me in the face.”

He kissed the top of your head and you could feel how unwilling he was to let you go. And all it did was make you hold tighter, cry harder, pull his lips to yours with passion.

“You never stood me up.” “No, I didn’t. And I never would.”

So many elements of the past few months fall into place. George was both the man with the words and the man with the actions. He was heart, body, and spirit. He was yours, without question. And while something about him spending the day with you in person and writing letters to you at night felt a little mischievous, what was George but mischievous? And what choice had you given him when the one time he tried to reveal himself, you gave him such a strong tongue-lashing that you felt guilty for weeks.

“Rhubarb,” you whispered against his wanting mouth.

“Yes, my love,” he said between kisses.

“Is this the red outfit you were hoping I’d wear?” you lifted your eyes to George in playful question.

“Absolutely not,” he said with a frown.

Before you could speak in protest, he held a hand to your mouth.

“I made dinner plans. Figured we might have something to celebrate. And if we didn’t, I’d have a nice quiet place to drink away my sorrows.”

The corner of George’s mouth lifted roguishly. 

“But this dress, this dress isn’t making me want to take you to a restaurant. It’s making me want to take you home.”

You leaned up to kiss him again. His strong arms lifted you off the ground, glee and peace and sensuality mingling together in a cocktail of overwhelming emotions.

“Take me home, George. Take me home.”

And that’s a wrap all! This isn’t how I initially envisioned the ending. It was planned as 8 episodes, but oh well. I think I like it, and I hope you do too.

Epilogue hopefully out later next week.

-Lia

All tags: @fangirlandnerd, @aerdnandreaa, @thisisbullshytt,  @cancerousjojian, @whovianayesha, @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @luna-xxxxx, @sleepylunarwolf, @starryrevelations, @potter-thinking, @all-by-myself98, @bananafosters-and-books, @cutie-bug, @igotmadskills​, @hazelandcoconuts​, @yallgotkik​, @amberkay284​, @13ofjuly​, @daft-not-punk​, @sapphireorchid​, @geek-lass​, @ietss​, @garbdump​,

Harry Potter tags: @tessimagines, @0-lost-in-stereo-0, @whysoseriouspadfoot, @eldritchscreech​, @luckyvirgo​, @hellizhelusive2​, @lexrius​, @sapphireorchid​, @amazingwonderlandnapkin​, @garbdump​

Perchance a Parchment tags: @cucumberinmyass, @justducky0423, @thequeen-ofnerds, @yuaasa, @comic-creature, @hermionebennet, @semicharmedkindofali, @sugerquill, @can-i-fangirl-yet​, @doct0rstrange, @igotmadskills, @otherthingsinhead, @olixerwxxd, @caramiriel, @gryffinclxw, @lizmar20, @indicisive-af, @confettidreameryouwhoreo-blog, @hellizhelusive2, @kaitsubaki, @dooriha, @justfollowtheroad, @memogorgon, @xxsophie-raabxx, @madamcadaver, @bookscoffeeandracoons

[novamirmirsblog]

Favourite crime pt 2

Natasha Romanoff x reader

Word Count: 2936

Genre: angsty fluff? or fluffy angst 👀

Request: yes

Warnings: swearing, mentions of cheating, slight coercion into sex (it doesn't happen tho)

Part 1 is here

A/n: The long awaited part two is officially here. I had lots of people who wanted the reader to move on, people who wanted them to get back together and people who wanted both. Thank you everyone for your INDECISIVENESS (kidding. ily). Also Emma was a randomly generated name - I'm sorry :3

Did I write this fic instead of sleeping? Yes. I have no regrets.

It had been a year since you moved back home. The seasons had come and gone and with that, so had your thoughts of Natasha. The same could not be said for the assassin. She had spent a blissful 3 months with Bruce before he had dropped off the face of the Earth and she was missing you. By the 5th month, she had stopped moping about and tried to find you. She searched everywhere but your town was large and unfamiliar and you didn’t want to be found.

Natasha both regretted what she had said and didn't. She regretted it because she realised just how much she adored you once she saw all the areas Bruce fell short in. You knew her better than she sometimes knew herself. You knew when to back off and when to put pressure on. You knew when she needed control and when you needed to take control. You knew when she wanted ice cream or when she wanted brownies. Bruce didn't. However, a part of her didn't regret those nasty things she said because she really didn't deserve you. You were everything she wasn’t, and she didn't know how to measure up to you.

She never voiced these concerns and so they festered and grew until she believed the only way out was to cheat. She knew that was the only thing that could drive you away. Natasha had told you all about her past, how she believed the Red Room had stripped her of her humanity – of her choice whether to become a mother. She knew there were other ways to have children - of course there were, but she hated the fact they had taken that option from her.

You were not like Natasha. You voiced your concerns which is why she knew exactly what to say and do to get you to hate her. Your previous boyfriend had cheated on you with your once best friend. You had watched as your father cheated on your mother and how that made her a hollow shell for a while, her never understanding why the man she loved could hurt her in that way. Supposedly, everyone models their future relationships on what their parents’ relationship looked like. Perhaps that’s why you kept choosing the cheaters. You were content with where you were. You had a forest, a busy town, and a beach all within a 15-mile radius of your house. You were far enough from civilisation that you could forget about reality for a while but close enough to occasionally dip back in whenever you wanted to.

You had kept in contact with Tony and Pepper, congratulating them on the arrival of Morgan and insisting that they should visit. You also continued to occasionally talk to Wanda when Carol was off world. Carol was overjoyed when she found out you had started dating someone new.

You had met Emma when you were taking a dip back into reality at the local supermarket. Her blonde hair vaguely reminded you of a woman you used to know, and you guessed that’s why you felt drawn to her. It wasn’t the electrical crackle that stole your breath away like your first meeting with Natasha, but it was something. Emma could occasionally be a little controlling, but you guessed that’s what normal relationships were like. She didn’t like you going to bars or pubs anymore and you certainly weren’t allowed in any clubs. You didn’t mind it too much as you hardly minded giving up a few nights out if it meant you could have something that resembled normalcy.

“Who’s that?” Emma asked, your face illuminated from your phone as the ding rang out.

“A friend. He’s bringing his wife and new baby over tomorrow and was reminding me to baby-proof the house.” You smiled lightly as you texted Tony back. You hadn’t mentioned to Emma that you were an ex-avenger, but it just kept slipping your mind.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Who is he? Where will he be staying?”

“I just forgot. Sorry. He’ll be staying here.”

“But you only have a single bed.”

“Yeah. I was planning to sleep on that and Tony, Pepper and the baby can stay in my room.”

“You mean our room.”

You said nothing, too engrossed in arguing with Tony about how under no circumstances will there be any celery in your house. Apparently, that was the wrong thing to do.

“Our room, right Y/n?”

“Um yeah.” You wave her off was apparently your second mistake, but you didn’t multi-task too well and so half answers were all you were good for while texting.

“I have been your girlfriend for 3 months Y/n. The least you could do is answer me properly and tell me what’s going on in your life.” She huffed, pushing your feet from her lap, and turning to face away from you, all of which you missed. You really weren’t having that evil green vegetable in your house.

“Seriously, what is even so important that you’re ignoring me right now!” Emma’s voice cut through the fog, and you looked at her with a blank expression. It was times like these that you really missed Na- No. You refused to go there. You didn’t miss her. You were over her.

“No celery.”

Emma threw her hands up in the air. “You seriously don’t see what’s wrong, do you?”

“No.” You tilted your head, confused at what your girlfriend was talking about.

“Well, I’m not just going to tell you! Jesus. You should know. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Emma stood up in a huff, making a lot of noise while getting ready to leave.

“Okay – bye” Your attention was bought back to the phone when Tony sent you a cute video of Morgan crawling about, probably as a bribe to get you to buy celery. You stood, watching the video a few times before you shut off your phone, finally getting around to babyproofing your house.

~~~~~

Babyproofing a house was a lot more work than you originally thought. You had spent most the night picking sharp objects up from baby-height areas and making sure you hadn’t left any weapons about. All the guns taped under tables had to be relocated and you found enough change to set you up for retirement. You just hoped and prayed there were no small beads for Morgan to choke on. You didn’t even get around to putting soft corners on the edges of tables and counter tops, but you told yourself that it was survival of the fittest at that point. The whole endeavour had taken most the night which is how you found yourself with only an hour till Tony, Pepper and Morgan arrived.

There was a knock on the door, and you saw that you were 15 minutes late. Luckily your girlfriend had arrived half an hour before so you figured she could let them in. You shouted down, telling her to get the door as you finished putting on your socks.

“Hiya baby!” You cooed at Morgan babbling in Pepper’s arms, watching as her chubby hands reached for your hair, grabbing on with a crazy amount of strength. “Oh my god you’re strong. Pep, are you sure she’s Tony’s? I’m pretty sure she’s as strong as Thor.” You laughed, looking over at Tony. Your face dropped into careful neutrality as you saw the redhead standing behind him.

“Of course she’s mine doofus. We had multiple paternity tests.” Tony winked.

You didn’t know what to do. You weren’t ready. Your throat went dry as you asked if anyone wanted any drinks, your girlfriend waving them into the living room. You prepared the drinks, and you felt a presence behind you, wrapping their arms around your waist, their head resting on your back. You hated it. You felt suffocated. You took a breath and handed half the drinks to Emma, opting to grab a wine glass and fill it with the wine you had been saving for a special occasion. It might not have been a special occasion, but you needed something strong to get though the next few hours and you knew this would do the job.

You made your way back into the living room and Tony gestured to Emma “I don’t think we’ve met yet.”

“I’m Emma.”

“Tony. This is Pepper, Morgan and Natasha.” Your heart dropped at the mention of her name, realising that she wasn’t some cruel hallucination but was in fact standing in your living room.

“Sorry. I forgot to introduce you all.” You smiled and took another large swig from your glass.

“Hey how come you’re the only one with alcohol?”

“Because you’re a parent now.” You rolled your eyes at Tony, feeling Natasha stare holes into your face.

“So I need it even more!” Pepper hit Tony as he said that, causing Morgan to laugh.

“Don’t worry about Y/n getting drunk, she can handle her alcohol pretty well.”

“We know.” Natasha finally spoke. Her voice bought back floods of memories and you realised you missed her voice – just the tiniest amount. “Who exactly are you to Y/n?” To anyone else, the question was flippant, like asking about the weather but you, Tony and Pepper could all hear the carefully laced venom within her words and while the question sounded like it was aimed at your girlfriend, you could tell she was speaking to you.

“Where’s Bruce this fine day?” You shot back, not letting Emma speak.

“My question first.” Natasha finally turned her gaze to focus on you.

“Why are you here?” You felt Emma’s arm slither possessively around your waist. Perhaps if it had been another day, you would have appreciated it but right now, you felt like you were drowning. She held you too tight, you couldn’t move.

“Ah.” Natasha wore a smug look on her face and yet her eyes flashed with hurt. You hated that she had found out information you weren’t willing to give.

“Why are you here Agent Romanoff.” You wanted- no needed her to answer you. You needed to know why she came to you. Then you looked at Tony. “Why would you bring her here?” Your voice was level, Morgan was pulling at your leg to get you to pick her up. You used that as an excuse to escape your girlfriend’s grip.

“We need you back.”

“So you bring your baby to try and bribe me back?” You ran a hand through your hair, lightly bouncing Morgan. “That I can understand but why bring her?” You waved at Natasha, feeling both her and Emma’s eyes bore into you.

“She’s part of the team too and you both need to get on.” Pepper said.

“You were in on this too?” Your throat felt tight. You couldn’t breathe properly.

“I’m sorry but who exactly are you?” Emma asked. Natasha scoffed at her, folding her arms, and rolling her eyes.

Everything was a little too loud and muffled. It felt as if you were underwater. The sun was too bright, and it made everything a little too hard to look at. You could see your furniture, but it wouldn’t stay in your brain long enough for you to fully register it. You placed Morgan on the sofa and took a deep breath, closing your eyes to focus. When you opened them again you looked straight at Natasha.

“I am not going to play nice with you. You broke me and now that I’m moving on you suddenly decide to show up? No. I don’t believe it. Why can’t you just let me be happy? Leave me alone. Besides, I thought I was a ‘fun little distraction’.” You spat at Natasha. You were tired of being the bigger person. She had hurt you and you wanted to watch her bleed. It’s why you leant over and kissed Emma harshly, why you let out a slight moan so Natasha could hear. It didn’t matter that it was completely fake because even though you knew you should feel satisfaction at Natasha’s hurt face, the twinge of sadness upset you more than you would have liked.

Natasha knew the kiss was forced. She knew it was, but it didn’t stop the knife digging deeper into her heart. You had moved on and she had to respect that. She had said some awful things to you, and you really did deserve someone much better than her. You stormed out of the house, saying that you were going for a walk, leaving your girlfriend to entertain your guests.

~~~~~

It was dark by the time you got back. You saw Natasha on the sofa and ignored her as you walked straight to the guest bedroom. All you wanted to do was curl up and sleep this horrible day into the past but unfortunately for you, you had a girlfriend sitting on the bed.

“This bed isn’t big enough for-” Emma cut you off with a rough kiss. “Emma not now-”

“Yes now. I want to remind your ex what she’s missing.” Emma went back to kissing you and you wanted to cry. You didn’t like her possessiveness, didn’t like her jealousy. With Natasha that had been fun but with Emma, it made you feel afraid.

“Emma seriously.” You grabbed her wrist, not letting her reach into your underwear.

Emma huffed and stepped back. “What’s your problem?”

“I’m really tired. Can’t we just sleep?”

“It’s your ex, isn’t it? Why is she even here? I can’t believe you were going to just let her stay here and not tell me!”

“I didn’t know she was coming!” You were both stage whispering, conscious of the fact there was a baby that most likely didn’t sleep all that often.

“Then kick her out!”

You said nothing. You couldn’t just kick her out. That wouldn’t be fair.

“Oh my god you still love her. You still love her and she’s in love with someone else. Or she was. Ha.” Emma let out a bark of laughter. “That’s so fucking rich. You know what, crawl back to her but don’t come crying to me when she fucks you over again do you hear me?”

“Emma that’s not- I don’t love her anymore. I hate her. She ruined my life.”

“You truly hate her?” You nodded at her. “Supposedly, you can only truly hate someone if you loved them first. We’re done Y/n”

“Seriously?! What? Because I used to love Natasha? Because I don’t want to have sex with you? Grow up Emma. I’ve loved people before you and at this rate, I’ll love people after you too. I’m tired. I don’t have to have sex with you. You can’t make me.”

“I’m your girlfriend! You’re supposed to want to have sex with me!”

“Well not when I’ve had a long ass day!”

“Guys, I think you might wake Morgan.” You winced a little at the addition of Natasha. You knew this was going to end badly.

“This is my fucking house!” Emma said, not lowering her tone.

“Actually, it’s Y/n’s.” Natasha calmly stated. She really wasn’t going to rise to the bait.

Your girl- sorry- ex-girlfriend, fumed next to you. “You know what? Have her. She’s so screwed over from whatever you pulled that I don’t think she can love anyone ever again anyway.” Emma seethed, grabbing her shoes, and slamming the door on the way out. The sound of baby Morgan crying echoed through the house.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You ran your hand over your face, the exhaustion of the whole day catching up with you.

“No, it’s not. I betrayed your trust over the one thing I knew you couldn’t tolerate. I knew how hurtful cheating is to you and I did it anyway. I know it’s not an excuse, but I guess I just felt like you deserved someone more than me. Someone better.”

You said nothing. You were so so tired. You missed her and it ached, but you couldn’t forget what she had done. “I can’t trust you anymore.”

“I know but please let me try again. Bruce wasn’t worth it. He only made me realise how much I love you.” Tears were filling up Natasha’s beautiful eyes and you could see just how tired she looked.

“I missed you.” You whispered out, not wanting to break whatever was being formed

“I missed you too. So so much.”

“I can’t forgive you. Not yet, but…you can have one more chance Natasha. That’s it. You get one chance at my forgiveness.”

“Okay!” Natasha sniffled slightly “I promise I won’t mess this up.”

“I’m serious Natasha. One chance. I don’t play baseball. There are no three strikes.”

Natasha gingerly reached up to cup your face. “I won’t waste this.”

“Good because I never really stopped loving you and I’d hate to be a simp.”

“I think it’s a little too late for that dove.” Natasha let out a watery laugh.

“Excuse me?” You let out a fake gasp and wiped some of the tears from her cheeks.

“It’s okay, I’ll tell you a secret.” Natasha ushered you to lean closer and you did, she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and whispered, “I’ve been whipped for you for as long as I can remember.”

You were looking forward to all the ways Natasha was going to make it up to you and hopefully, you’d get to give Bruce a good punch too. You both knew it was going to be a long road ahead but you both felt a little more ready for what lies next.

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

Hey, you once mentioned something about Tom Riddle being a little suicidal. Your new post reminded of that and I wonder why you think that. It’s the complete opposite of what the books want you to think.

Alright, it’s time, let’s do this.

My standard disclaimer whenever we venture into the dark pit that is my thoughts on Tom Riddle: I’m going to say a lot of controversial stuff that fandom generally doesn’t agree with, I will say so much of this shit that I simply do not have time to explain it all, I expect 99% of you to disagree with me and the other 1% to be so horrifyingly offended that I dare to contemplate a world in which Tom isn’t always an overly competent psychopath that they leave me notes telling me to take this trash out of their character tags.

We good? Alright.

So, when I say a little suicidal, I mean that he is suicidal.

Not on the level that he’s going to kill himself tomorrow, or even has plans to kill himself, but in that he makes very strange decisions for someone who desperately wants to live.

And yes, I realize I speak blasphemy given that Tom Riddle’s entire m.o. is supposed to be his crippling fear of death.

Oh man, this one’s going to be so long.

So, my reasoning comes down to a few things:

The location of the horcruxes and the nature of their protections.

The events of Deathly Hallows and Tom’s final actions in the novel

The nature of horcruxes and what it means to not only be able to create one but what it does to you (caveat that I am going to headcanon hard here and speak utter blasphemy)

So, let’s start in order this time, because I think the first two are actually far easier for me to explain.

The Location and Nature of the Horcrux Protections and the Trouble with Backdoors in Security

So, first, the horcruxes are all conveniently located in Great Britain. Not even just in Great Britain, all in places that Albus Dumbledore and later Harry Potter can track down with relative ease, all fairly close to each other.

Now, part of this is undoubtedly attributable to Tom’s overly romantic nature. 

Yes, Tom Riddle is a giant romantic, though not necessarily in the traditional sense everyone thinks of. The film “Patton” and its treatment of Patton comes to mind. Tom Riddle is a man enamored by a sense of greatness, of being remembered in this world rather than fading into oblivion, by the significance of places and times in history not only of the world but of himself. He creates an entire, grand, persona for himself because to live an ordinary life for him is to be worthy of nothing.

So, given that, of course Tom places the horcruxes in sentimental locations that have personal meaning to him.

However, it also makes them perilously easy to find and collect.

By itself, this wouldn’t spark my notice.

The ability to destroy horcruxes are not easy to come by. There’s only one basilisk and it’s by chance/Lucius fucking up that Harry gains access to the necessary basilisk venom. Using Fyendfire is an incredibly dangerous thing to do and just as likely to blow up you and the next three towns over as it is to destroy a horcrux. And if there are other means of destroying a horcrux they’re just as hard to come by or just as dangerous.

It’s not quite throwing it into the fires of Mt. Doom from which it was forged but it’s pretty damn close.

So, really, without JKR’s convenient Deus Ex Machina giving both him and Dumbledore the means to actually destroy these things, Tom Riddle’s horcruxes are pretty damn safe no matter where we put them. As we see from the locket, which Regulus manages to collect but Kreacher cannot destroy even after several decades.

However, what does spark my notice, is that the horcruxes can be collected by someone other than Tom Riddle when it appears as if they were never intended to be. What do I mean by this?

From what we see, there’s no benefit to Tom if the original horcruxes are found by anyone. He doesn’t seek them out to restore his original body, they’re just anchor points that should be hidden at all costs. So, he’ll never need a Death Eater to go collect them for him should he be indisposed (indeed, to do so would require a tremendous amount of trust in people he has very little trust in). 

So, why hide them in such a way that others can access them? There are canon based options which would have prevented anyone else from reaching them. Given the existence of age lines, I imagine Tom Riddle could make some arbitrary barrier keyed only to himself. There are mokeskin pouches, such as the one Harry is given in the seventh book, which we know can only be accessed by whoever they’re keyed to. There’s the Fidelius Charm which, true requires a secret keeper which Tom would be very meh on, but options exist.

Tom Riddle could wipe the locations of his horcruxes off the face of the map. He chooses not to. Which leads me to believe that, at least on some unconscious level, he wants the horcruxes to be found.

Then we have the protections.

Specifically, I’m thinking of the locket here.

Yes, the protections are very formidable, but they’re also goddamn weird. 

Rather than make the horcrux simply inaccessible, kill all those intruding, instead the intruder has to go through a very “Saw” like puzzle in which they drown themselves in despair until they finally get the locket, at which point they likely suicide by zombie.

More, there’s no hint that there’s any other way to retrieve the locket. 

Backdoors in security are a very bad idea. What they do is weaken the security as a whole and, if you can take a short cut is, it means that someone who is clever enough and motivated enough can to. Dumbledore is both clever and motivated enough, and I imagine if there was a way to get the horcrux that involved not doing this ridiculous task he would have done it.

More, we’d be back to the land of Tom making sure only he can access the horcrux by requiring a password, keying it to his magical signature, or something so that no one else could get it.

Which means, that’s right, if Tom wants to get the locket he’s drinking the goddamn despair juice just like the rest of us.

What kind of a person would do any of this?

I’ve gone over this before, but I don’t think Tom Riddle’s crazy. Rather, in this case, I think he’s driven by an unbelievable amount of nihilist rage and is also quite depressed.

Tom goes to collect his horcrux, “Ah, it’s time to remember what a miserable life I’ve led and the sheer awfulness of my own existence. Good, I was starting to feel a little too happy. Let’s see if I get eaten by my undead, vengeful, victims today.” 

The Events of Deathly Hallows and Tom Riddle’s Death

I think Tom Riddle’s final death in the books was suicide.

Tom takes over the Wizarding World, finally, and it’s as miserable as ever.

He’s trapped in this sham, barely functional, probably very painful body. His Death Eaters are completely out of control and for all that he wanted society to burn it’s now burning and no one’s even learned anything from this. Children in Hogwarts are being routinely tortured and have now staged a rebellion in which he’s having to slaughter them (I have reasons to believe that this is not what Tom Riddle wanted, at all, but that’s best saved for another post), and then he learns his horcruxes have all been destroyed without him even noticing.

There’s so little left of him, he has accomplished nothing, and there’s Harry Potter back from the dead yet again, gloating at him that love conquers all and Tom Riddle will never understand.

And Harry’s right, Tom Riddle will never understand, the world is meaningless and flat to him now and he finally understand that there’s no point to it. I think Tom Riddle decides he’s done. He’s just done.

He enters in a duel with Harry Potter knowing the weird nature of their wands. Now, it can be assumed he used the Elder Wand, but we know they get locked in Priori Incatatum , and that makes no damn sense with the Elder Wand (well, wandlore in general is silly, but I’m working with what JKR gave me here). So I choose to take JKR at her somewhat established canon and say that, no matter what Harry thought, Voldemort was using his original wand.

He throws out the killing curse, despite having now witnessed Harry resurrecting twice to this thing, and within two seconds it rebounds and kills him.

Voldemort’s death is a lot like this scene from the recent, terrible, 2020 live action Mulan (10/10 do not recommend).  Now, we’re supposed to think that this scene is the witch saving Mulan’s life and thus showing her hope for the next generation. In actuality, the witch literally flies into an arrow she could have easily deflected from Mulan’s path. It’s a suicide that Mulan is too stupid to notice.

Tom chooses suicide in the most ridiculous, flamboyant, and easily written off manner one can and no one even notices. Instead Harry crows that he has personally defeated Voldemort, with the power of love no less, HUZZAH!

And the castle parties.

The Nature of Horcruxes

I almost don’t want to include this because it’s so... well, I’m really drifting far from canon and fandom now.

However, with horcruxes, there’s always an overriding question of why Tom is able to make so many when we don’t see anyone else with these things around (especially as it’s clear that murder doesn’t simply happen for those that now have horcruxes).

Usually, you have fic authors just sort of shrug and go, “Well, he’s that evil, I guess.” Sometimes you have them go, “No one else is crazy enough to keep going, and that’s why Voldemort’s cuckoo bananas.” 

One very good explanation I’ve seen is that it’s because most people, when they murder, feel remorse immediately. The soul split happens, but they’re haunted by the murder for the rest of their life, and thus the horcrux isn’t made. Voldemort, feeling nothing when he kills anyone, is thus able to make them even for when he’s only indirectly associated with the death in question.

However, to me that never really jived philosophically.

Mostly, I simply cannot imagine that tearing apart your very soul is an act of indifference. Here’s how I see it: to do something like that to yourself, you must care, you must care beyond all imagine and human endurance. Your soul literally cannot abide it and saws itself in half, purging what you cannot stand about yourself the most. 

The remorse part is, yes, remorse for the act and the victim but more to the point it is the ability to forgive and reaccept the worst part of yourself. That part of yourself that you purged and destroyed, which is nearly impossible to do and might very well destroy the fabric of who you are). 

In other words, while creating a horcrux is an abominable act of hatred, it is also one of profound self-hatred.

Tom Riddle loathes himself so much that he is able to do this over and over and over again. 

As Tom Riddle goes on he makes himself into less and less and less of himself until he probably doesn’t even know who he is anymore. He just knows, whatever is left of him, he loathes that too. 

And then, of course, he gives up, runs into the nearest flying arrow, and dies.

TL;DR: Tom Riddle’s is a miserable existence that ended in a miserable if unintentionally hilarious manner

[sereisstuff]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 // Shuntaro chishiya

Hey guys, I haven’t written in a while and got inspired by @hvrriicane​​ who’s Chishiya imagine is absolutely amazing. I wanted to write for Chishiya too so started off with him, next will be Niragi or Kuina. I still don’t know yet what I’m going to do but enjoy..

There’s literally no point to continue living, nothing but our own lives we cradle like a new bought gift.

“What’s the point of this reality anymore”

I questioned absentmindedly, gazing out into the open window while releasing the tension in my shoulders as I sighed in thought. My mind was running in circles ever since I arrived at the beach, defying all my morality to feel normal again. Selfish wasn’t it, to disregard human law to feel like my body was mine once more. Not some fetish in a game overruled by a faceless master.

The wind was calm, carrying the melodies of serenity with it. It was almost like I was myself again but I knew better than to question that, the pumping outrage of music often reminded me where I was and the stumbling people knocking loudly against the walls kept my mind at bay.

“There is no reason” was spoken in a sultry voice behind you, you could tell who’s voice that was by a mere grunt. Your heart raced and you cursed yourself for ever falling for someone in a world such as this “Living is just a game, you survive based on how well you play” chishiya spoke once more, followed by a light grunt of amusement.

His steps echoed through the room as he slowly approached my place, I didn’t waver nor acknowledge his presence. Concealing what I felt was always my specialty and I’ve yet to met anyone succeeded at deciphering them. He stopped just beside me, hands in his pockets, staring at the sky just as I did. 

“Is there a reason why you’re not speaking to me?” he laughed with a smirk smearing across his features making me furrow my brows in fury, he leaned slightly against the door frame. Hooded eyes meeting my own with the tilt of his head “I don’t want to die, in your attempt to steal” you explained with a fault, a lie no match for Chishiyas intelligence. You hadn’t met his fierce eyes yet, staring aimlessly into the sky, painfully watching the velvet lasers drip from the roof of reality sharply. As if one minute they were there and the next, their existence ceased to exist just like the souls they took with it.

It was an excuse, another reason to lie to his face. You couldn’t bear the thought of having to constantly be around him while concealing your feelings, his mere presence was something hard to resist and you hated yourself every day for it “I’m speaking to you right now” Chishiya raised his sharp brows with the pucker of his chapped lips, he spoke “for the first time in a week” 

“Is there any reason for your visit? Or was it merely to annoy me?” You managed to huff, concealing your heartache with pure annoyance.

Chishiya shrugged, his voice high as his dreamy eyes followed the lining of your body from your toes to your covered figure and then once more meeting your eyes “are you looking down on me?” he said with amusement, the words slipped from his mouth like a devilish command. 

"I would never, your too clever for me to care" 

"I get told that more than you know” Chishiya spoke, slithering his lips into a charming smile.

I cradled my knees closer to my chest as I relentlessly thought about the wonders it would be if we never met “Of course you do” you mumbled under your breath, Chishiya’s laughable gaze slowly rolled down, he looked from the corners of his eyes while swiping his tongue against the floor of his lips.

“Anything I said or did before, it was a lie. I don’t want to be apart of your plan anymore, I just want to go back to normal” There it came, your truth. Merely a disguise for your hearts motives but it bit you back venomously. Normal? Normal was adaptive, Normal used to be walking home at dawn after running to the store for a midnight snack, normal was falling sick and having your mother come and cradle you. You even missed her sharp tongue, preferring that more than the ache of love and the wrath of this immoral reality.

“Normal is adaptive, wicked or not. Nothing ever stays the same as much as you wished, Life is sickening like that” Chishiya spoke leaning against the frame, his feline eyes begging to be sunken into. Similar to you, Chishiya had a knack for emotion, easily able to ignore and manipulate his own but he could tell what you were thinking as if it was a superpower.

“I’ve found you amusing ever since the hide and seek game” Chishiya laughed, his words were sharp but something in you told you he was telling you the truth, you didn’t notice how the sharp tune of your neck snapping towards his direction whilst your fiery eyes met his but just like fire, his eyes calmed something in you. Chishiya raised his hands with a casual raise of his eyebrows and a low giggle. 

“If your here to laugh at me, leave the way you came or I’ll make you” your forced threat didn’t waver him, Chishiya was never one to back down even if he seems so. 

His hands slowly retracted back to his pockets, as he sat casually beside you. You could feel his warmth and enjoyed the mere second until you remembered his reasoning, you hated having to continue as if you felt nothing, wanting more of his comfort “Can I continue?” He asks politely, his eyes never leaving yours so you felt his truth seeping from his callous tongue, he knew you more than anyone else, not even poor Arisu knew just how deeply you thought and how hard you fought.

You sent him a quick nod, finally holding eye contact. Chishiya took this as a sign to somewhat move closer to you, his jersey knitting your sweater as his head stood just a few inches away from your shoulders.

“The world has a wicked way going about telling us about our feelings, showing us what we can and cannot have. Sometimes, we have what we want but we cannot grasp them fully because the world doesn’t want us to have them, selfish at most” 

“What are you trying to say chishiya? I’m not in the mood to play in your game of minds”

“The hide and seek game showed me what I could have, what that meant for me. I’m grateful that you saved me as stupid and selfless that was.” He continued and it was odd seeing this, you could see his own defenses melting but your anger got the best of you and you made an abrupt stand, clenching your fist as you fought the tears brimming your eyes. You felt tortured and played by him as one of his stupid jokes.

“Leave” you spoke sternly.

“Leave Chishiya, I already told you I don’t want anything to do with your riddles right now. I- I can’t handle it”

Chishiya although didn’t falter, you followed his body as he stood. His chest puffed high. Standing just before you “I know you don’t want me to leave” he knew, he knew all along and sat here toying with you like you were nothing to him.

Chishiya’s long lashes fluttered as his cold eyes stared deeply into yours, so deep your anger slowly subsided and you gave him the time to speak “I don’t want you to leave me, you’re an idiot, yes but I know if I let you go now. I’ll feel torn in the future, living at the beach taught me one thing. You can’t trust anyone but somehow I can trust you” he inched closer to you, so you felt his breath tickle your lips and for a moment Chishiya let his comfort seep over you, enjoying your company that he missed.

“Do what you wish with that” and just like that, he was gone again. Leaving you with frustrated thoughts. To untangle his way of words but what you most definitely knew was that your feelings weren’t alone anymore.

[waitimcomingtoo]

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter five rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!reader

Synopsis: you are Peters greatest love and Spider-Man’s greatest enemy

Series Masterlist

“Why are you in such a mood?” Ned asked his best friend as they walked to their college campus. Peter had been grumpy all morning and Ned was quick to notice. He usually showed up at Ned’s door exhausted but eager to share the adventures from the night before, but he seemed defeated today.

“I got my ass beat last night.” Peter grumbled as he shouldered his backpack.

“By who?” Ned wondered.

“I don’t even know.” Peter sighed. “I think it was some kind of alien.”

“What’d it look like?” Ned asked. It wasn’t uncommon for Ned to ask a million questions after being told something Spider-Man related. After all, he was the guy in the chair.

“Like nothing I’ve ever seen before.” Peter said swallowed and tried to push the previous night from his mind. He’d rather focus on this morning, and the moment he had shared with you. Peter felt such a strong connection to you, and he would’ve stayed on that rooftop all day if he could.

“Describe it to me.” Ned pleaded, tearing Peter from his thoughts.

“I don’t know. It was like eight feet tall, black, and bald. And it was super veiny.” Peter grimaced while Ned’s eyes widened.

“Oh my God. You fought Shaquille O’Neal?” Ned gasped.

“Keep your voice down. I did not fight Shaquille O’Neal.” Peter whispered harshly. Ned always seemed one step away from blowing Peters cover. Peter gave bashful smiles to the passing students who gave him weird looks upon hearing Ned’s words.

“Terry Crews?” Ned continued. Peter rolled his eyes at his best friend and starting walking to class.

“No. This is serious.” Peter said, his voice heavy with annoyance.

“I know it’s serious. You got beat up by The Rock.” Ned remarked. Peter fidgeted with the strings on his backpack, still bothered knowing he was beaten so easily by Venom.

“The Rock is Samoan, not black.” Peter corrected.

“I know. But I heard “bald” and I just automatically envisioned The Rock.” Ned defended.

“There’s another thing. It had this huge, gaping mouth with rows and rows of teeth. I keep thinking about it.” Peter shivered. “It came so close to me. And its tongue was super long. It was like a cracked out frog.”

“So a ninja turtle? You got beat up by a ninja turtle?” Ned gawked.

“It wasn’t a ninja turtle.” Peter snapped. “ It was black, remember?”

“So an emo ninja turtle.” Ned deadpanned.

“It kept saying “we”. “ Peter remembered.

“What do you mean?”

“There was only one of them, but they only referred to themself as “we” as if there were multiple of them.” Peter explained.

“Do you think there could be more? Like an alien army or something?” Ned asked incredulously. Peter hadn’t even thought about that.

“Maybe. I remember something else, it’s name was Venom.” Peter recalled. He distinctly remembered those words coming out of the creatures mouth.

“Venom?” Ned repeated, clearly finding it cool.

“Yeah. And I told it my name. I used my regular voice too.” Peter realized. He usually disguised his voice when speaking, but he had been so scared that he forgot to. It haunted him knowing the creature now knew who he was and he wondered if it knew both of his identities.

“Wow. This is so cool. Not cool for you, because you might die. But this is super cool for me.” Ned smiled as he envisioned what Venom might look like.

“Thanks, ned. Actually, wait.” Peter stopped in his tracks. “One more thing happened.”

“What?” Ned whispered as they approached their class.

“Venom was about to eat me but then it started talking to itself. It sounded maybe like it was having a conversation with someone? I’m not sure, I could only hear one side of it.” Peter explained. “It put me down, well it threw me down, and let me go. But before it left, it said something about a girl. I don’t really remember. I was too focused on catching my breath.”

“Catching your breath? Were you running?”

“No. It choked me.” Peter told him as he lightly touched his neck.

“Kinky.” Ned smirked as he took a seat next to Peter in their class.

“That’s gross.” Peter stifled a laugh. “Did I tell you about this morning with Y/N?”

“No. Tell me.” Ned said. He wasn’t disappointed in the change of topic. He was glad Peter had moved on on from Liz, finally. Peter recounted the discussion he had with you that morning, barely getting through it without blushing and laughing at certain parts.

“I really like her, Ned. More than I’ve ever liked anyone. She’s so amazing. I barely know her, but I can tell already. I want to know everything about her. I want to hear her full story. And most of all, I want to be a part of that story.” Peter declared but frowned suddenly.

“What’s wrong?” Ned asked.

“After our talk, we just kinda sat there staring at each other for a while.” Peter began. “She kinda leaned in, and I did too, but then this seagull flew by and scared us half to death. We laughed about it but the moment was gone.”

“So you almost kissed her?” Ned smiled. “Why is that upsetting you?”

“Because what if that was our chance and I blew it?” Peter feared. “What if that seagull was a sign from above that I was in way over my head? Like God was asking me who I was to think I could just kiss the most perfect girl in the world? She’s so cool, Ned. Way too cool for me. She’s already had a boyfriend and I’ve never even kissed anyone.”

“If it’s meant to happen, it will happen.” Ned assured him.

“Or, the same thing that happened with Liz will happen.” Peter argued. “I won’t tell her how I feel and then she’ll be gone forever.”

“Then don’t let that happen.” Ned reasoned. “Tell Y/N how you feel. Do it tonight, before you go on patrol. And if she doesn’t feel the same, then at least you’ll know. Isn’t it better to know?”

“When did you become such a love expert?” Peter teased as the professor walked into the room.

“Since I started dating Betty. She’s opened my eyes to what love really is.” Ned shrugged. “Tell her tonight. Then tell me how it goes. I’m here for you either way.”

Peter nodded and gave Ned a thankful smile before turning his attention to the professor.

On his walk home from campus, Peter spotted you walking down the sideways. Ned’s words of encouragement rang in his ears and he made a brash decision.

“Hey, Y/N, wait up!” Peter called after you, making you turn around.

“Hey Parker. How was kindergarten?” You teased him.

“Alright alright. Majoring in chemical engineering is hardly kindergarten. And I’m only one year younger than you.” Peter reminded you. “I don’t want you to have a heart attack on me, grandma.”

“Watch it, sonny.” You kept with the joke. “I’ll hit you with my purse and then say something mildly racist.”

“Just like my grandma.” Peter laughed in amusement. “We’re gross. And not funny.”

“We really are.” You scrunched your nose. “Couple of gross ass orphans.”

Peter laughed again, feeling comfortable enough with you to joke about a tragic situation.

“Look, Y/N, I really enjoyed our talk this morning. I really enjoyed all our talks so far actually. I guess I just like talking to you. ” Peter began. He looked nervous all the sudden, like he lost his stamina. You raised your eyebrows hopefully, as there were only so many ways this conversation could go.

“I like talking to you too, Peter.” You said honestly, hoping he’d continue. Hoping he’d ask that question. Your answer seemed to give Peter the confidence he needed to go on.

“Really? Um, that’s great cause I really like talking to you too. I already said that. Oh god. I’m crashing. I-“ he began to flail and you calmed him down by taking a few steps closer. You were almost touching at that point. He stopped talking immediately and looked at you with wide eyes.

“Is there someone you wanted to ask me, Peter?” You asked slowly as you looked at him through your eyelashes.

Damn. He was tall too.

“Yes, actually. I, um, will you…would you maybe want to-“

“Hiya kids!” A gravely voice came from the front stairs of your apartment, completely cutting Peter off. Peter looked up and angrily rolled his eyes.

“Don’t look now. It’s Henry.” Peter grumbled. Henry was the creepy neighbor with the foot fetish.

“Oh Dear God.” Peter said in a low voice.

“What?” You panicked when you saw Peters expression change.

“You’re wearing flip flops.” He pointed at your black painted toes and you felt the color drain from your face.

“Run!” He whispered harshly. You bolted into your apartment and Peter ran into his. Once inside, Peter blew out an angry breath. He had been interrupted twice in one day when trying to talk to you, and he worried that it was a sign.

Back at the apartment, you sat on your bed with headphones in. You were prepping for your interview with Cletus Kasady by writing down some questions you wanted to ask him. It was hard figuring out what to ask a serial killer. You looked at your notepad and sighed. All you had written down was “but why tho?” in sloppy handwriting. You tore out the page, crumbled it up, and threw it at the trash can. When you went to write something else down, you noticed the paper ball still stuck to your hand. You shook your hand but it still wouldn’t come off.

“What the hell?” You grumbled as you shook your hand.

“Oh. This might be our fault.” Venom said suddenly.

“What might be your fault?” You asked as you continued to shake the paper off your hand, but to no avail.

“We sort of went inside Spider-Man when we were talking to him yesterday.” Venom said timidly and the paper ball dropped from your hand.

“What?” You demanded and Venom went silent.

“Come out here.” You said, like an owner to a dog.

“We’d rather stay inside.” Venom said softly.

“Get out here now. You need to explain yourself young lady.” You said sternly. Venom slowly manifested and looked at you with sad eyes.

“I’m 600 million years old, by the way.” Venom added. “You can’t call me young lady.”

“What do you mean you went inside Spider-Man?” You ignored her comment.

“When we were choking him we put one of our tendrils inside him and swirled around.” Venom explained. “He didn’t even feel it. We did though. He’s very squishy on the inside.”

“You…what?” You didn’t even know where to start. “How does that explain the paper sticking to me?”

“We think we absorbed his powers.” Venom said. “We used to watch videos of him on YouTube after you went to bed. He can stick to walls and stuff. We think that’s why the paper ball stuck to you.”

“Since when can we absorb powers?” You wondered as you looked at your hands.

“We never had a host before. We don’t really know how it works.” Venom reminded you. “But back on Klyntar, our home planet, the Grandmaster used to tell us we could absorb the powers of superhuman beings. Judging by your newfound stickiness, we think it worked.”

“What else can Spider-Man do?” You asked. “Since you’re such a big fan.”

“He can shoot webs out of his wrists. And he can return lost dogs.” Venom answered, sounding a little annoyed.

“Do you have something against Spider-Man?” You chuckled a little at her tone.

“We hate what he did last night. He thought we were the bad guy, and he let the real bad guy get away. He judged us before he had the full story. We’re not a bad guy.” Venom defended. You were surprised to hear how passionate she was about this and gave her a soft smile.

“Let’s not worry about Spider-Man right now. I want to test out our new abilities. Let’s rock and roll, baby.” You cheered, complete with rock and roll hands. The second you touched your middle finger and ring finger to your palm, a black, web-like tendril shot out from your wrist and stuck to the ceiling. You stared at the web with a gaping mouth, weakly shaking your wrist to see if it would stay attached.

It did.

“Maybe that’s one of our new abilities.” Venom said. You looked back and forth between her and the gooey web coming out of your wrist.

“Oh my God! What’s happening?” You screamed. You took your fingers off your palm and the web retracted back into your wrist. Looking at your wrist incredulously, you made the rock and roll hand again and the same web shot out from your wrist. This time, it grabbed the ceiling fan.

“V-Venom?” You asked. You didn’t know what to say.

“Try to aim it at something.” She suggested. You aimed your wrist and the lamp across the room and touched your fingers to your palm. The black web shot across the room and grabbed onto the lamp. You quickly yanked your arm back to pull the lamp towards yourself. The lamp flew across the room, smashed you in the face, and left you with a bloody nose.

“Ow.” You cried, gingerly touching your nose.

“We see this as a absolutely win.” Venom cheered. You shot her a look and went to get cleaned up.

After about a week of practice, and very little work on your questions for Cletus, you had a better handle on your webbing ability. Of course, the week also consisted of long talks with Peter on the roof, late patrols of New York, the occasional run in with a criminal, late night FaceTime calls with Peter, and beating the shit out of Spider-Man, twice. Venom eventually grew bored of using the new powers around the house, so it was time for the final test.

You stood at the rooftop ledge and looked down, talking a deep breath to calm your nerves.

“It’s a long way down.” You commented.

“Yep.” Venom replied in your head.

“We could die.” You added.

“Yep.”

“Ready?”

“We’re ready.” Venom grinned as you transformed. You stepped off the ledge and fell freely for a while, screaming the whole way down.

“Stop being a little bitch! Shoot a web!” Venom yelled. You aimed a web at a building and began to swing. You were too close to the ground and ended up knocking over a bunch of tables at an outdoor restaurant. People ran away in fear while others took out their cameras and recorded.

“We’re not here to hurt you! Peace and love!” Venom shouted as you continued to swing through the steers of New York. People began to cheer upon hearing your words.

“Do you hear that, Y/N? People are cheering. They love us.” Venom said happily.

“I love us too.” You replied. You were even happier than she was. You knew how much it hurt Venom to be seen as a monster, it was why she hated being called a parasite. You also knew it was why she hated Spider-Man. He was praised for stopping bad guys while Venom was seen as one of the bad guys he needed to stop.

“Hey, what is that thing?” A man called from the street. Venom stopped swinging and landed on the street. You proudly turned to the crowd of people, a massive grin on your face. There it was, our favorite question.

“We…are Venom.” Venom growled. People took pictures and videos of you from a distance.

“You can come closer. We won’t hurt you.” Venom assured the crowd.

“Are you like the anti Spider-Man?” Someone asked.

“Spider-Man is a joke. He can’t protect this city like we can. We are no Spider-Man. We are Venom.” Venom roared. A few people took a step back and you began to feel uneasy.

“Hey, King Kong. I want a word with you.” A sassy voice quipped from the crowd. A man in yellow sunglasses and a suit stepped forward, and you bet your ass you recognized him.

“My name is Tony Stark. Heard of me? Of course you have. Would you mind coming back to my tower with me?” He asked, but it felt more like a demand. The people in the crowd slowly dispersed and soon, you stood there alone with Tony.

“Be nice. Say yes.” You told Venom.

“Who is this guy?” She asked out loud.

“I just said my name.” Tony said, slightly annoyed.

“He’s a really famous inventor. I’ll explain later. Just follow him please.” You begged. Venom gave Tony a once over and followed him to a limo.

“Yea, you’re gonna ride up top big guy.” Tony said, patting the roof of the car.

“Girl.” Venom growled. Tony looked surprised.

“My apologies ma’am.” He raised surprised eyebrows. You rode on top of his car all the way to his tower, wondering what he could possibly want with you.

The inside of his tower was huge. Tony lead you to a lab that was bigger than yours and Peters apartments combined.

“I’ve seen videos of you on YouTube. Seems like you and Spider-Man aren’t the best of friends.” Tony remarked as he pulled out an iPad.

“We will crush his bones and snort them like cocaine.” Venom growled. Tony was just as surprised to hear that as you were.

“Now that’s a visual.” Tony smirked. “I’ll have you know, Spider-Man is a friend of mine. He’s not your biggest fan either but from what I’ve seen, you’ve done this city some good since you’ve been here. How long has that been?”

“Two weeks.” Venom answered.

“I thought so. I’d never seen you before then. And since your arrival, petty crime has dropped significantly in Queens. Criminals are too scared of getting eaten to do anything. Don’t get me wrong, I love Spider-Man and I’ll kill you if you tell him that, but no one fears him. He gets the job done, but there’s always another job to do. With you, on the other hand, your mere presence is preventing crime before it even happens.” Tony smiled to himself, like he was just given a new toy. “You’re scary, is what I’m trying to say. But you’re a good guy. It’s rare. I want it to stay that way. I want you on my team.”

“Team?”

“We’re called the Avengers. We had a bit of a falling out but the name still stands.” Tony waved his hand. “We fight bad guys together. Really, really bad guys. I think you could us some good. Plus, you’ll be taken care of for life and we’ll only call you in for serious threats. But I need a few things from you first.”

“Like what?”

“Your story.” He pointed a finger at you. “How does a giant, anthropomorphic alien wind up in New York City?”

“It’s a long story.” Venom answered.

“We can trust this man, Venom.” You told her telepathically. “I’m gonna come out okay?” Venom hesitated and Tony looked impatient to know more.

“Are you sure?” She asked you. Tony looked confused.

“Am I sure?” He pointed to himself.

“Not you.” She said. Tony looked around for who else Venom could be talking to and found no one.

“I’m sure.” You decided. “This guy is one of the good guys. We can trust him. I promise. I’m coming out.”

You slowly transformed back into yourself in front of Tonys wide eyes. Venom stayed in her snake-like form and rested on your neck.

“Hello, Mr. Stark. My name is Y/N L/N.” You shyly introduced yourself. “This is Venom. We want to help.”

Tony’s face shifted from shocked to impressed as he looked you over.

“I gotta say, I did not except someone like you to be inside that scary monster.” Tony chuckled.

“We’re not a monster, Mr. Stark. We want to help people.” You reminded him.

“I can see that.” Tony nodded. “That’s why I’ve been developing you a suit.”

“When did you do that?” You wondered. “We just met.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve been designing it while you talked. I want you to have it incase you and Venom get separated. That way, you’ll be protected until you’re back together.” Tony explained as he showed you his ipad. Sure enough, it had a drawing of a suit on it.

“I’ll get started right away. I just need a little piece of Venom. If I make the suit using her skin, you’ll have the total protection you need.” You looked at Venom for consent, who nodded and extended a tendril towards Tony. He quickly snipped a piece off and put it in a container.

“When will the suit be ready? A few months?” You asked as Tony tapped the container. Tony stopped looking at the container and laughed.

“Y/N, I’m a genius inventor. Go get lunch. It’ll be ready when you’re done.” He said.

And he wasn’t kidding. An hour and a half later, Tony presented you with a suit. You ran my fingers over it slowly, not wanted to disturb a single thing. You looked at it in awe, completely speechless at what he had created.

“Go on, try it on.” He shrugged casually. You grinned from ear to ear before rushing to the bathroom to put it on. You came out soon enough with tears in you eyes.

“You like it?” Tony asked. You looked at your covered hands in amazement. The suit was jet black, like Venom was, and hugged your body like a second skin. There was a big white spider symbol on the front, the complete opposite of Spider-Mans small black one. You figured it was a nod to being called the anti Spider-Man and it was perfect.

“Well?” Tony was still waiting for an answer. You looked up at him just as a few tears fell down you cheeks.

“We didn’t celebrate my birthday growing up because it was the anniversary of my moms death. I used to be so upset every year.” You blurted. Tony looked like he didn’t know what to say and you couldn’t blame him. That was something deeply personal and you had only just met him.

“What I’m trying to say is, I get it now.” You explained. “All those missed birthdays were for a reason. I didn’t get gifts those days because I’m getting the ultimate gift right now. This is the most amazing thing I could’ve asked for. I cannot thank you enough Mr. Stark. I’ll never take it off.”

“You can’t take it off anyway.” Tony told you. “When you don’t want to wear it, it absorbs back into your skin like Venom does. And it’s equipped with Venoms essential abilities. It’s bullet proof, knife proof, taser proof, spork proof and so on. And you can still shoot your webby things. You just won’t have super strength, super speed, or that Venus flytrap mouth of yours.”

You tested it out and shot a web towards his desk. You grabbed a pen and caught it with ease, then looked at Tony for approval.

“That’s the best I could do. It’s no Iron Man suit but it’ll suffice.” Tony said casually. You couldn’t take it anymore and rushed towards him to hug him tightly.

“Thank you.” You said into his chest. Tony patted your back awkwardly and you let go.

“It’s nothing. You can thank me by not eating Spider-Man. I know he’s annoying but he doesn’t mean any harm. Now go forth and do good.” Tony requested.

You swung back to the apartment and landed on the roof. You turned back into yourself and made your way down the steps to your floor. After this mornings conversation with Peter and the incredible suit from Mr. Stark, you were having a great day. For the first time in years, you couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

[cdroloisms]

hey pspsps i found this thing n twitter and i cant get it out of my head,, so dreams escape right? and sapnap said that he'd be the one who'd take dreams last life rgiht? so imagine if he gets ant, bad and george and tells them "its the final manhunt" (:

im ngl the name of this on my document was “the final manhunt *offkey kazoo*” 

with that, have some good ol’ post-prison c!dream angst! probably not exactly what you asked for, but i hope you like it anyway :D 

tw: implied torture, abuse, dark portrayals of c!sam and c!quackity, suicide/suicide implications, panic attacks, emotional distress, emotional instability, death threats, violence, flashbacks, pandora’s vault/prison arc

When Dream escapes the prison, he is a frothing thing of spite and rage, one part human and ninety-nine parts determination simmered and condensed over high heat; there is anger and then there’s this, the fire that leaps to his eyes and the shaking shreds of a battered heart he holds close to his chest and refuses to let anyone close enough to see. He moves and the server moves with him, tugged along by his iron will and sweat-slick desperation, joining in the brilliant blue whirl of a diamond axe swung recklessly and slammed into the dirt, an aimless fury following each formless drive of the blade into grass and gravel. The air sings danger and the air sings wrong and every step closer brings a ringing scream of away away go away that dances like static electricity against their skin.

Puffy follows, cutlass strapped to her hip and hair tucked messily beneath the rim of her cornet as the group advances - someone had alerted over comms about seeing the escaped prisoner in this direction, and they’d all jumped forward in the hopes that the weeks-long manhunt could finally be ended. Sapnap leads the way, headband whipping behind him as he strides forward, jaw clenched in fierce determination; George brings up the rear, bow in hand, a full quiver of arrows strapped to his back. Puffy’s running alongside Sam, who has been strangely tight-lipped the entire time Dream has been gone, firm in his insistence that the prisoner be detained but saying little else - it’s something that she would pry at, usually, but her head is filled with half-formed regrets and fears and a bubbling undercurrent of anger she’s afraid will come loose if she opens her mouth, so she stays silent as they run ever forward.

Sapnap yells, and her head snaps up - there, in the tall grass of a plains biome lies a flash of orange that must be Dream. The hunters around her speed up and she strains to follow; the other three are clearly experienced, easily falling into step with each other as she scrambles to keep up. Dream’s head snaps over towards them and he begins to sprint, cutting a line through the yellow field as they race to follow. She’s not seen him since the prison break, has only heard the whispers- an orange clothed monster, all bones and skin and uncaged fury, a diamond axe heaved in his arms slamming against anything that comes too close. It’s hard to rationalize this untamed, unrefined dash to the unwavering calm that she had always associated with his style of fighting, his movements much more like the life-or-death escape of a hunted rabbit than any hunter’s dog. It’s hard to rationalize this Dream with the one she knows- but well, she’s gotten used to that.

It took her far too long to admit, but she’s come to realize that she doesn’t quite know Dream at all.

He leads them forward to the shorter grass and harsher dips and planes of a savannah, the sun beating down in slanting heat against the backs of their necks. The ground they’re standing on begins to shatter into steep cliffs and jagged mountains, rough edges of stone climbing into the sky all around them. Sapnap curses, shading his eyes against the sun.

“He’s going up there,” he says, and George sends arrows flying towards the orange dot blurring across the steep face of a nearby mountain. Sam grumbles as Puffy strains to catch sight of him, watching his scrambling movements up the cliff face to the top.

“Then we follow,” he says, pulling a stack of ender pearls from his inventory. “Each person take a few. We’re too close to lose him now.”

The climb is anything but pleasant, the sun right overhead and making sweat gather at her hairline and drip down her face. Even as a sheep hybrid, she struggles to keep pace with the other hunters as they race over thin paths of granite and clamber up near-vertical faces of stone with little problem, clearly practiced as they follow Dream without breaking their sprint. The rock gives way to dirt and tufts of short-shorn grass and Sapnap’s eyes flash.

“Be careful,” he says, looking straight at her. “He’s cornered - that’s when he does risky shit without thinking about the consequences. He knows you’re the least experienced here and there’s a good chance that he’s going to charge you. If that happens, hold your shield and just block. We’ll handle him from there.”

She swallows back the spark of indignation that rises at his words, a bitter scream that they only see her as a liability dying out as she reminds herself that these three had hunted Dream professionally before, had struggled even with two more at their sides. The caution is far from unwarranted.

“I understand.”

Sapnap nods tersely and looks to the other two with a hand movement that she doesn’t understand. The other two immediately start moving, Sam moving to the front, George nocking an arrow as he takes his place at the rear - they’re still shielding her, she realizes with a small spike of annoyance again, shaking her head and drawing her own cutlass as Sapnap leads the way for them to swing up onto the top of the mountain.

It takes her a moment to adjust; the wind, unhindered by the cliffs that had been shielding them seconds before, whips at her face and draws tears to her eyes, makes her hair fly wildly into her face. Through narrowed eyes, she watches as the figure on the other side of the mountaintop scrambles backwards, diamond axe braced in front of him as he backs to the opposite edge.

“Dream,” Sapnap calls, voice deadly calm. “You’re cornered. Stand down.”

Dream shakes his head, lips curling in a wordless snarl. The sound is desperate, almost inhuman, making Puffy’s hair stand on end. As her vision clears, she stops dead in her tracks despite herself - Dream looks awful. She’d expected him to look disheveled after his escape, hadn’t expected much comfort in his stay in the Vault, but the way he looks, now, hollow eyes and gaunt cheeks and skinny, shaking limbs that only barely seem to be able to hold up his weight, bandages covering every visible inch of skin, wrapped messily around his right arm as if done by one hand - she reaches forward unconsciously and Dream flinches back.

“Don’t-” his voice rasps, cracks, falls in on itself as he wets his lips to try and speak again. “Don’t come closer.”

“Prisoner,” Sam growls, stepping forward, and he turns those wild, fever-bright eyes towards the creeper hybrid, flailing backwards and knuckles white from the grip on his axe. His breathing visibly hitches, head whipping back and forth.

“Don’t come closer,” he hisses again, stepping back, and Puffy stills.

“Sam-” she grabs his sleeve. “Sam- don’t. He’s at the edge.”

Dream’s gaze swings to her, and her heart stutters at the uncaged, obvious fear raging in his eyes. He’s backed to the very back edge of the mountain they’re standing on, left foot halfway off, sending dirt skidding over and off of the cliff down down down to the ground hundreds of feet below. The three hunters stop, muscles tensed, and Dream bares his teeth at them but doesn’t back away further.

His shoulders sag as they stand, stagnant, each huddled on their own side of the mountaintop. His gaze is venomous, green eyes burning even in the glaring light of the sun, flicking warily between their faces as he holds the axe between them.

“So you came,” his voice is tight, a slight tremble pulling at the end despite his seeming bravado. “Here to finish the job, huh?”

Sapnap pulls back his shoulders. “I made a promise, Dream.”

Dream laughs, bitter. His left hand releases on the axe handle to come to his chest, grabbing at his right, looking almost like he’s trying to hold himself. His laughter tapers off into something weak and wrecked, and the sound makes Puffy’s heart clench uncomfortably in her chest.

“Figures you’d keep that one,” his head tips up, looking Sapnap in the eye. “What- did your fiance give up? The revive book not worth the effort anymore?”

Sapnap hisses. “Don’t bring Karl into this-”

“Karl?” Dream’s eyes flash, grip tightening on his upper arm. “No- what? Why-”

“Dream.” Sam’s voice is low, something dark buzzing behind his tone, “Don’t-”

Puffy interrupts him with a hand to his shoulder, stepping forward and freezing mid-step when Dream’s head whips to her, eyes widening and foot scraping against the edge of the cliff again.

“Sapnap, Sam, let him talk,” she levels her gaze at Dream, trying to pick out the emotions warring behind those brilliant green eyes. “Not Karl- you’re talking about Quackity then, right?”

Sam hisses, “Puffy, I don’t think this is a good idea-”

Dream laughs.

The sound is grating, awful, making her hands come to her ears. It rips through skin, wraps around bone, seeps into marrow - he’s laughing, axe disappearing into his inventory so he can clutch his face with both hands, the loose sleeves of his prison uniform falling to his elbows to reveal the bandages wrapping all the way up his forearms and disappearing further under the fabric. In front of her, Sapnap falters, grip on his sword loosening; George steps back, eyebrows wrinkled, bow lowering. Dream laughs like the world is ending, and some cold, hardened thing in her chest shatters at the sound.

“You know,” his hands claw at his hair, wrapping around the strands and pulling, “You know you know you know- you have to know. How-” He shakes his head, tugging at his hair harshly and making Puffy wince at the sight, “Don’t- don’t play stupid here.”

“Know what?” George reaches forward, hands empty, palms up like he’s approaching an injured dog. From the way Dream snaps at the sound, hackles raised and teeth bared, he might as well be one. “Dream, what are you talking about?”

Sapnap looks stricken, still, face clouded in a way that Puffy can’t decipher. “Q- don’t play your mind games here, Dream,” despite his words, he sounds uncertain. Puffy hasn’t seen Quackity around for a while, had thought that he was staying at Sapnap and Karl’s new place. From the way Sapnap’s eyes have darkened, it looks like she assumed wrong. “Quackity hasn’t even been around, what does he have to do with any of this?”

Dream shakes his head again, seemingly stuck in his own head, barely even responding to their words. “You know- you know you know you know- Sam knows- you-” His breath hitches, chest heaving, and Puffy blinks. He’s having a panic attack, a clinical, much more calm part of her says as Dream seems to collapse in on himself. “You know. You have to know he wouldn’t- nobody came if you didn’t know then why didn’t you come if you didn’t know then why did Sam let him in you know you know you know-”

“Sam?” George turns to Sam, hands curling into fists and then uncurling again and again, “Do you know what he’s talking about?”

Sam’s expression is unreadable, ignoring George as he looks back at Dream. “Prisoner,” and has he called him by his name, yet? “Come with us calmly and your punishment will be lightened. There’s nowhere to run. Give up.”

Dream keens, a high-pitched whine exiting his lungs, “I won’t- I won’t tell,” his voice cracks, tears clearly running down his cheeks, “I won’t tell you Quackity I won’t-”

“Sam,” Puffy turns to the hybrid. “I think you should go.”

“Puffy-”

“He’s having a panic attack, Sam. He’s hardly going to do anything.” She levels a glare at him, sheathing her cutlass at her side. “I’m perfectly capable of defending myself, and I’ve promised to help anyone having a mental health crisis on the server.” Something dark and traitorous whispers how she’d given up on Dream before, and she pushes it down.

“He’s a danger to everyone on the server.”

“Sam- he’s not fucking breathing right now on the edge of a cliff. He’s not a danger to anyone but himself.”

“She’s right, Sam,” Puffy’s head snaps to George. He’s looking at her, expression hidden behind his glasses, lips pressed together in a small frown. “Puffy, we’ll be waiting. You or Sapnap call if you need back-up.”

She nods tersely, watches as Sam gives in and follows George down the mountain, the hybrid’s red eyes still staring at Dream as he leaves. Sapnap seems distracted, hardly acknowledging their exchange with his eyes fixed on Dream’s crumpled form, emotions clearly warring over his face, and Puffy brushes past him to get to her patient- Dream.

“Dream,” she speaks, not moving forward when his shoulders seize. “Dream, I won’t move closer unless you want me to,” she enunciates the words clearly, watching his face for any flash of recognition or understanding. He shakes his head minutely at her words, arms trembling, but he doesn’t move closer to the edge. “Can you hear me?”

He nods jerkily, and she smooths the palms of her hands on her pants, trying to calm the race of her heart in her chest.

“Good, very good,” years of training, habit, flood her head, pushing away the buzzing unease and fear and tangled knot of dark feelings that linger every time she sees Dream’s face, “I need you to breathe for me, okay? We’re going to inhale for four- there you go,” she counts, watching the shuddering movement of his chest as he struggles to replicate her movements, “Very good, hold for four, there you go- you’ve got this-”

Slowly, painfully, the rattle of his lungs in his chest becomes something quieter, more manageable, no longer rising and falling in desperate arrhythmic wheezes that make her chest hurt in sympathy. She’s still kneeling there, hands palms-up when he looks up at her, eyes wide, a degree of lucidity having returned to them, and for a moment a flash of fear stabs through her heart.

She swallows it down, pulling forward every ounce of professionalism she can muster. “Dream,” she keeps her voice low and soft, biting her lip at the way he freezes, again, at the call of his name. “Dream, can you step away from the edge?”

His hands clutch at the line of grass and dirt that make up the sod overhang, knuckles white. His eyes keep staring in hers, wide and wet and green, and she shushes him softly under her breath.

“It’s ok, take your time,” she breathes, watching as his hand inches forward bit by bit, gaze still fixed on her face, “It’s okay, Duckling.”

She blinks, and there’s a whirl of orange flying towards her chest; Sapnap shouts behind her, and panic blooms in her head too quickly for her to pick out anything but a desperate little oh god I’m going to die-

The blow never comes.

Instead, she looks down, heart in her throat, at a sobbing, shaking lump pressed against her chest, head buried in the crook over her neck as dirty, tangled hair falls in waves over her shoulder. She freezes, watching as his shoulders shake, hands tangled in her shirt sleeve, barely able to hear the words he’s saying over his wails and her heart thudding in her ears.

“Please don’t bring me back,” he pleads, voice cracking, “Please- please I don’t wanna go back please tell Sapnap to make it quick please I can’t go through another Quackity visit please Puffy don’t let them send me back-”

“Dream-”

“I’ll- I won’t fight, I pr’mise, Sapnap can keep his promise it’s okay I won’t fight anymore I’m-” he keens, high-pitched and mangled, into her shoulder, “I’m so tired Puffy.”

“Duckling,”

“Don’ make me go back, please.”

Puffy pulls him back, presses her hand on his cheek, murmuring softly. And- maybe she shouldn’t be doing this, maybe Dream’s a danger just like Sam said, maybe she’ll come to regret helping him the same way she had before - but right now he’s in pain and he’s crying and he’s closer than he’s been in so, so long and all she can see is her duckling, hurting, her duckling, home.

“Dream,” she brushes her thumb against his cheek, smooths a lock of hair behind his ear. “What happened in there?”

And he begins to speak.

[forever-rogue]

Congrats on the milestone!!! I found your blog thanks to "In Name Only"- haven't read an Oberyn fanfic that good in years!!! <3 <3 Buuuut could I have one with Javi, pretty please? :3 “Why aren’t you with her?”; But because I've seen you're already done some with Javier and maybe you'd like sth else: Din “ I thought we were family!”. Happy New Year!!!!

So, I had to go with Javier on this because I am in it for him 💕

Javier Peña x Fem!Reader ; warnings: language

Javier Masterlist 

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Oh no, no, no,” Javier shook his head fervently as he picked up his glass of whiskey, downing it in one go before he took a long drag of his cigarette. He seemed amused as he spoke in rapid Spanish to his companion for the evening, a man you hadn’t met before. A small smile tugged on your features as you noticed just how relaxed he seemed for once; normally he was tense and tired, just like you and Steve as well. It had been a last minute decision to come here for a drink by yourself, and you definitely hadn’t expected to find Javier here, but you weren’t upset in the slightest, deciding to go in and say a quick hello and see how it went. But his next words caused you to freeze in place.

“She’s nothing to me,” he commented as both burst into gruff laughter, “she’s just a kid, but good for a fuck now and then. A good rookie, but that’s it. If you want something worth your time, you know where to go.”

Your heart felt like it froze before dropping into your stomach at his words; they were so cruel and vile, laced with amusement at your expense. It didn’t long to figure out who he was talking to. Rookie? There was no one but you. Fucking every once in a while? Also you - well the two of you. But it had never been just...sex to you. It had always held so much more weight and somehow you’d thought it had for him to. 

“Move,” a man, clearly drunk, shoved you slightly as stood in the doorway, rooted in place. Your eyes were focused on Javier, and you made a small sound as you were jilted to the side. Javier’s head snapped up at the slight commotion and he paled as he noticed that it was you; shit, shit, shit. Judging by the broken hearted look on your face, he knew you had heard everything. 

You mumbled a quick apology before meeting Javier’s eyes for the briefest of moments before tearing out of the bar and out into the cold, dark street. It wasn’t but a moment before tears were spilling down your cheeks as you tried to control the sobs that threatened to rack your body. No - you weren’t going to let him or anyone see you like this. If he even cared enough to come after you and see if you were okay or what you’d heard. Judging by the cruel sharpness of his words, you highly doubted he would give the situation as much as a passing thought.

Well, you huffed lightly to yourself, dabbing at your tears with the sleeve of your sweater, no one to blame but yourself. Everyone had warned you about Javier Peña - you just hadn’t listened. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

“What’s wrong, Peña?” the man across the table looked at him and laughed, flagging down a nearby waitress and signaling for her to get two more beers, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Javier closed his eyes and let out a long breath, running a hand over his tired eyes. Part of him knew he should have come after you, but another part of him figured it was pointless. You’d probably never want to see his face again. It was supposed to be a quick comment to his contact, a blaise comment so the man knew to stay away from you, so you were protected - at least as much as he could ensure it. Instead he royally fucked everything up, and naturally you’d had impeccable timing. 

“Nothing,” he lied as he accepted the beer and downed half of it in one go, “nothing at all.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Part of you had wanted to call in sick to work the next day - and the rest of your days. But you’d decided that that was not the way to handle things. You were going to steel yourself and offer him as much indifference and disregard he had afforded you. May it was stupid and childish, but in the moment you didn’t care. He didn’t want anything to do with you and only viewed you as a good fuck now and then, then you would give it right back. You were finally going to take everyone’s advice and keep Javier Peña out of your personal life. At work it was unavoidable, but everywhere else, you were done with him.

“Good morning,” you offered Steve a kind smile before handing him a cup of coffee just like you did most mornings. Javier was already at his desk, pouring over paperwork, but stopping to glance up at you. Steve offered you his own greeting before eagerly accepting the coffee and getting back to work; you could feel Javier’s seeing gaze on you, but weren’t about to break down and gave into him. 

“Morning,” Javier offered, looking intently at you, as you sat down at your own desk and busied yourself with paperwork. There was a ton of it to do after last week’s raid, and that meant the three of you would be stuck at the office for the next few days. Not exactly ideal, to be stuck in close proximity with the man you desperately wanted to avoid, but you’d deal with it. You nodded and made a small, noncommittal sound. 

Steve looked between the two of you, opening and closing his mouth a few times as he realized something was wrong. Javier and yourself were normally thick as thieves, so this was a sharp contrast to what he had come to know as normal. While he didn’t know the full extent of your relationship, he knew it was more than friendly, and it didn’t long to figure out that something had happened. But he wasn’t going to push it or say anything; it wasn’t his place and he was sure that the two of you would figure it out. 

The rest of the day continued in much the same fashion...as did the day after...and the day after that. You played the role of cool and collected, not hurt and unphased by anything, while Javier felt like he was slowly breaking down. He just wanted to speak to you for just a moment, to explain what had happened and that none of it was true - he’d never meant to hurt. He’d just wanted to protect you. 

By Friday evening, he couldn’t handle it anymore; he needed to explain himself, to just get you to listen for a few minutes. Whether or not you chose to believe him would be another case.

“Dulzura-”

“I have a name, Javier,” you snapped at him, trying to push past him and head out of the office for the weekend. You’d planned to meet up with Connie to grab a drink, a much needed girls’ night, and that didn’t include Javier. You’d spent all week trying to get up and over him, and even though you weren’t sure it had worked, you liked the illusion that it did. 

But the seasoned agent was quick, and was able to grab your wrist and keep you from walking away. You looked at him, a frown on your features as you tried to pull out of his grasp, but he was stubborn and steadfast and didn’t release you. 

“We need to talk,” he insisted softly as you huffed impatiently. You didn’t dare to meet his eyes for fear of breaking down and giving in to him. Instead you stared at your feet and wished the ground would open and swallow you whole.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you hissed, the venom in your voice causing him to recoil, “you made that crystal clear. I’m just...what did you call? A good fuck every now and then? What could you - the wonderful most amazing agent - possibly want with me? A rookie?”

“You need to listen and let me explain-”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you’d caught him off guard and he dropped your wrist, allowing you to pull out of his grasp and take a step away, "if you thought that's all I was you could have made it clear. I never...I don't know what I was thinking. I guess I should have listened, huh? Stay away from Javier Peña and I was just thinking dumb rookie that didn't listen. Joke's on me, right?"

"That's not - that's never what this was. Not to me," he insisted as you'd started to walk, causing you to stop dead in your tracks. Slowly turning around, you cocked your head to the side in confusion, "that's not what this started out as or what I wanted."

"Oh really?" you were stuck somewhere between shock and disbelief as you laughed bitterly, "do you mean it or are you saying that because you're trying to look good? Is that what you tell all the girls when you want them to get back in your bed?"

"Would you just stop and listen to me for one fucking moment?!" the sharpness of his tone caused you to look at him in surprise, "I've been trying to talk to you all week and you've been avoiding me like I've got the fucking plague. You won't even look at me."

"You broke my fucking heart!" you yelled back at him, feeling something snap within you as a few tears rolled down your cheeks, "and the worst thing? I was never even supposed to know. You couldn't even tell me to my fucking face! Was I supposed to find out or just be a laughingstock for you and your buddies? Or what about your informants? Why aren't you with her?"

"Stop! Just let me talk and listen for a moment," he ran his hands over his face as he groaned in annoyance, "fuck - if you never do anything else just please listen now. A few minutes is all I'm asking for."

"Fine," you agreed quietly, crossing your arms over your chest as you quirked an eyebrow, "you've got five minutes."

"You weren't supposed to hear those things I said," he agreed with a heavy sigh, as you tried not to sniffle too loudly at his declaration, "because it wasn't true - not in the way you think."

"How...what-?"

"My turn to talk," he reminded you, "your turn to listen. That man I was with...he's not a good man, Dulzura. He's an informant, but that doesn't mean he has any honor or virtue. If he knew you were mine, or anything if the sort, he would have used that against me in a heartbeat. He's not a good man. And all I wanted to do was protect you. The only way I could think to do that was to make it seem like I didn't care - if you don't matter he won't think twice about you. If he knew even a fraction of how much you mean to me, you'd be his first target if the tables ever turned. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

"Javier…" at some point your mouth had dropped and your mind was reeling as you tried to figure out what was going on. Had you really jumped to the worst conclusion with knowing only half of the story? He leaned against the door-frame and let out a long sigh, "do you...really?"

"I just wanted to protect you," he confirmed with a small nod, "I didn't mean for you to hear it because none of it was true. Of all the times for you to walk into that shitty bar...amazing timing, Dulzura. I'm sorry you had to hear it, especially since none of it was true."

"Wait," you looked at him with wide eyes as your heart sank when you realized you'd been giving him the cold shoulder for no reason. You felt like a fool; you should have known better than just to give into your flighty emotions. You knew Javier - the real Javier. You should have known you could have trusted him - talked to him from the start. But...shit.

"I would have told you that already if you'd just let me talk and not run away every time you saw me," he admitted with a shrug, "maybe it wasn't the best way to say it but I just...I want to keep you safe. Always."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

And just like that, you threw your arms around his neck and pulled him close before crashing your lips onto his. He kissed you back without hesitation, his strong arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you close. 

"What if someone sees?" you suddenly remembered between kisses as grinned at him. He shook his head and easily played it off.

"Doesn't matter," he insisted as he kissed you softly, this particular kiss filled with more longing and saccharine intensity, "I'll protect you. I'm sorry for how things seemed. I would never mean anything like that."

"I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions," you whispered softly, sneaking in a few more kisses, "I should have known better. I should have just come to you."

"Next time," he insisted as he gently touched your face, "Dulzura - you know how much I…"

"I know, Javier. Now I truly know," you grinned at him, "me too."

"Want to get out of here?"

"Sorry babe," you teased, "its girls night. I would not be opposed, however, if my two favorite partners happened to make a surprise appearance at the same bar…"

"See you soon," he grinned, "and then you're all mine."

"I'm counting on that."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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