#he only seems to hurt people who break the conditions of his deals

[triplefishbutevil]

Ok. So. The goop monsters from the black rose oneshot that arlin was infected by in chips dream/nightmare when his curse was being fixed. What if they're made of the same stuff that is coughed up by the mayor of loffinlot and malice and the blossom boss and every other big boss the pirates have fought?

From what I remember they were described as being made of black goop of some kind and the bosses all coughed up something that was described as black goop or liquid. We know from a lot of sources- the fact that he knocked out Gill in one hit the first time they met without any effort, how much influence he has over people in mana- that niklaus is very powerful. Given his level of power it makes sense that he would have control over these creatures and maybe even the formation of that hole in the sea.

Although, I think that even if niklaus did send those monsters and start off everything that happened after I don't think it would be in a malicious way? I think I remember him implying when he was talking to Gill in episode 8 that he prefers to watch and observe, rather than directly interfere too much, so he would have been setting the story he wanted to watch into motion rather than trying to cause chaos and hurt for no reason other than seeing others suffer and the monsters were a tool for doing so.

[pinkroseblooms]

obsessedloner!Choso/chubby!f!Reader pt.2

Summary: in the second part to this modern college au, obsessive loner!Choso goes too far; reader deals with the consequences of his need to keep you close to him and him alone when he feels like you're at risk of gaining the attentions of an even more popular classmate. Yet another self indulgent piece of work, but sue me, I couldn't stop writing this all day. Enjoy!

Warnings: toxic behavior, obsessive/possessive behavior, jealousy, emotional manipulation, smut, mating press, rough sex, hurt/comfort, talks of low self esteem, clingy, needy!Choso, begging, crying, break downs, and borderline yandere!Choso, and other less than healthy relationship dynamics.

wc: 5.3k

The birthday cake was placed on the teacher’s desk: the majority of your speech class had decided that since Satoru Gojo’s birthday was coinciding with the last week of exams before break, it would be fun to have a small party. You volunteered to bake the cake; the professor gave permission to use his classroom that afternoon, with the condition the space was tidied up afterward and things didn’t get too rowdy. It was going to be a nice opportunity to celebrate the coming holiday season and the student who was arguably the school’s golden boy. Even those who didn’t like Gojo’s flippant arrogance and teasing nature admired his work ethic and almost supernatural intelligence, to say nothing of his undeniably pretty face. 

Choso was only there because he knew you were attending and in charge of bringing the requested birthday cake. He didn’t feel one way or the other about Gojo, but he would gladly be by your side, eager to hear the compliments your baking would receive and also to make sure no picky eaters decided to get nit picky and spoil your mood. Truly, Choso had been happy on your behalf to hear you had agreed to help with the party. He certainly wouldn’t think to go out of his way to do something like this for people he didn’t really know outside of a forty five minute, twice a week class. Choso was more than proud to be the boyfriend of a person so thoughtful and generous to a fault; it was one of the reasons he fell so hard in the first place. You never needed a special reason to be kind to someone. And of course, it helped that you were still the most adorable thing he had ever seen in his life and the last few months had been nothing short of heaven.

Except, the cake was red velvet. Choso stands by the teacher’s desk, staring at the cake. It was his favorite flavor. He told you that not long ago and you had promised the first time you made it, it would be for him. 

The cake is beautifully, painstakingly decorated, a perfect ratio of cake and fluffy frosting, sprinkled in bits of dark chocolate; the matching icing spells out ‘Happy Birthday, Satoru!’ in delicate, looping letters across the top. You obviously put a lot of care into making this for Gojo. That afternoon you had been the first person to arrive, followed shortly by another student, Suguru Geto; he wasn’t in the same speech class, but he was Gojo’s best friend and knew some of the class already, so inviting him was a given. The two of you had left to find a lighter and candles, hoping the school store in the basement of the building would provide something suitable. You told Choso he didn’t need to come; you noticed he had seemed a bit drained from studying and his recently acquired part time job, so you insisted he just hang back and relax while you and Geto went to obtain the finishing touches for the cake. 

For the past two minutes Choso has stood in place where you left him, eyeing the cake so innocently sitting atop the cleared off desk. He didn’t know it would be red velvet. Gojo had a sweet tooth and would probably love it. 

Surely this is too much for just an acquaintance. The recipe is a lot more difficult than the stuff you’ve made before, Choso saw there were more steps and more factors that could go wrong and ruin the cake’s moist and spongy texture. Skeptically, Choso narrows his eyes at the round, two tiered dessert. Most of the girls in your shared class offered to bake, but you were the one with the most experience and Gojo had eagerly picked you for the task. You must have felt obligated to make the cake perfect.

Choso’s frown deepens; he is your boyfriend. You promised you would make a cake like this just for him. A gesture like this could easily be taken the wrong way too and you’re so sweet and self effacing, he’s sure the idea of Gojo choosing you to personally make his cake didn’t mean anything at all.

It should be for him.

“What…what happened?”

The smile fell from your lips mere seconds after returning from the school store; Geto, insisting on carrying the purchases, had just been relaying a funny anecdote of one of his and Gojo’s misadventures as the two of you walked back into the now empty classroom. On the ground, right next to the base of the professor's sturdy wooden desk is nothing short of a mess. 

“My cake,” your hands come up to cover your gaping mouth. “What happened?!”

Geto approaches the desk with a confused frown; the cake and the plate it had been placed on are both on the floor. It seemed to have fallen top first, the icing and frosting smeared over the tiles and the plate broken into pieces around it. 

“It fell.” Geto states simply, although not without some incredulity. “Was it close to the edge?”

“No, I, well,” you struggle to recall exactly where you had placed the cake before you left the room. “I didn’t think I put it that close to the edge.”

“There’s frosting streaks on the side too’ it must have just toppled over.” Geto points out with a keen eye, kneeling a bit, bags still in hand. “It might have just been a bit uneven, a little heavier to one side?” he stands to his full height and smiles at you sympathetically. “These things happen, just a little bad luck. I’m sorry, it was a beautiful cake.”

“But everyone’s going to be here soon,” you fret as you search through your bag. “Geto, I’m going to go buy another cake, there’s a store nearby, I’m sure they’ll have something. Oh and I’ll find a custodian, oh no, I’m so sorry, I can’t believe this is happening-”

“Let me go.” Geto places a hand over your tensed shoulder. “It makes more sense, I know what kind of cake Satoru prefers the most. There’s plenty of time and a few others promised to bring drinks and snacks.”

“But I said I’d bring the cake. At least let me give you the money for it?” you hold up a few bills with a pleading stare. “I feel horrible, I should have been more careful where I put it.”

“Don’t beat yourself up; you are the one who did the work to make it.” Geto chuckles but accepts the money if only to make you feel a bit more at ease. “Maybe it’s better this way: with how good that cake looked, I’d wager you might have ended up with that glutton badgering you for more sweets.”

You return his smile as well as you can. “Thank you. I’m just being silly.”

“You’re fine.” Geto says firmly, but not unkindly. “You call a janitor, don’t try to clean up this alone; we wouldn’t want you to get a cut from trying to pick up pieces of that plate. I’ll be back before you know it; Satoru would sulk all afternoon if I don’t get him something anyway.”

“You’re a good friend.” you smile at Geto gratefully. “Thank you, I’ll call someone right away.”

You do just that shortly after Geto takes his leave; most of the custodians have already left for the day, except for one woman. She promises to be there as soon as she’s done with a request from one of the professors in the neighboring building; she sounds pleasant enough, but you feel pangs of guilt as you hang up and take a seat closest to the teacher’s desk. 

“Bunny? Are you okay?”

“Choso, you’re back!” you look up and wave at him, trying to sound cheerful; he glances at the ruined cake and back to your pained smile. “Ah, were you looking for me? I guess we just missed each other, the basement elevator was out of order, so we took the stairs. What a mess, huh? Geto thinks one side was a little heavier and it made the cake just flop right over the edge. Some bad luck, right? He left to get a cake and the custodian will be here soon, so make sure not to step on the plate bits.”

“Hey, slow down. I’m not worried about that.” Choso’s brow furrows as he studies your shaky smile. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. No big deal, accident…accidents happen.”

You bite your bottom lip harshly as your eyes begin to sting; before you know it, tears are slowly slipping down your cheeks. You quickly avert your eyes, too embarrassed to see the pitying look cross Choso’s face.

“Oh Choso, I feel so stupid. I can’t believe I put the cake that close to the edge! Ugh, I should have paid more attention, I told everyone I would make this amazing cake and I messed it all up and now Geto has to go all the way to the stupid store to get another one because I wasn’t careful!”

“Did he get mad at you?” Choso asked sharply. “Did he blame you?”

“No, no, Geto didn’t do anything.”  you bow your head and wipe at your wet cheeks. “He was really nice about it, so was the janitor on the phone about the mess, but I still feel bad. Gojo was just telling me he was really looking forward to the cake too. I’m sure he’ll be disappointed to get a store bought cake and I promised I’d take care of this for the party. Sorry, I know I’m being a crybaby, I should just suck it up, I’m the one who ruined things, I shouldn’t be feeling sorry for myself.”

“No, you didn’t. It’s not your fault.”

You raise your head and Choso is standing in front of the table between him and you; his hands are gripping tightly around the strap of his duffel bag. You wipe the last of your tears and look at him, your chest swelling at how upset he is on your account.

“You’re so sweet. Just having you to vent to makes me feel better already; I’m really just being dramatic, I’ve been stressed out and-”

“It’s not your fault.” Choso cuts you off quietly; he still isn’t looking at you. “It’s mine.”

“What? Baby, no, I didn’t expect you to watch the cake; it’s on me for not making sure it wasn’t so close to the edge, you didn’t do anything.”

“I pushed it.”

Choso’s knuckles are white: he’s strangling the strap of his bag between quivering hands. Finally, he looks into your bewildered eyes

“Choso, is this some kind of joke?” 

“I didn’t want him to have it and, and I thought he might get ideas since you worked so hard to bake it. He flirts with all the girls and you did say you were going to make it for me first.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” you shake your head and all but leap up from your chair. “You? How could you? And you were going to let me think it was my fault?!”

“No! It was supposed to look like an accident, I didn’t think you’d be so upset,”

“So it was okay for me to be ‘kind of’ upset? Choso, how could you?” you ask him again, voice raising, almost echoing in the empty room. “It’s just a cake!”

“Yeah, it’s just a stupid cake, that’s why I didn’t think you’d get this upset!”

Choso’s mouth clamps shut as your anger gives way to a look of utter hurt. 

“Wow.”

“I shouldn’t have said that-”

“Thanks a lot, Choso. Yeah, that really makes it better. Was that your plan? Swoop in and play the comforting boyfriend while I feel like a big idiot? Or maybe you just don’t consider my hobbies anything special; anyone can make a cake, right?” Fresh tears well up in your eyes as you tug your bag over your shoulder. “Nice to know what you really think.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Choso says reproachfully. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded, you’re putting words in my mouth!”

“You know what?” you shake your head and unzip the front section of your bag; clumsily you yank out a sealed box and slam it down on the table. Choso recognizes it as one of the little boxes you use to pack individual desserts. “Here, your stupid cake. Surprise.”

The lid of the container is now sticking to the top of the cake but Choso can still make out the messy letters of his name and the heart shaped sprinkles scattered all over the surface. His eyebrows raise as he sees the small, squashed up cake is in the shape of a heart. You glare down at it before turning on your heel without so much as a backward glance.

“Bunny?” Choso snaps out of his trance and begins to follow you. “Where are you going?”

“Away from you.”

“I can explain, just calm down and let me-”

“Leave. Me. Alone!” you stop abruptly in the doorway and give him a nasty look, but you’re barely able to hold yourself back as Choso fixes you with a heartbroken stare. “Don’t you dare tell me to calm down when you’re the one who threw a fucking tantrum. Enjoy the ‘stupid cake’, jerk!”

You slam the door in his face and rush down the hall to the nearest entrance, not particularly caring about where you’re going, just as long as you can get as much distance between you and Choso as possible. When you finally get home, you text Geto an apology for taking off and a nondescript explanation for your absence before turning your phone off. You’re exhausted and skip dinner to just curl up in your bed, burrowing in a blanket as if you could shut out the world. Choso’s t-shirt, the same one you’ve been sleeping in nearly every night, is balled up and thrown somewhere across the room; eventually you fall asleep, eyes rubbed raw and nose stuffed as you drift off, hoping maybe this was all just a bad dream.

When morning arrives and you manage to force yourself into a sitting position, it takes you a minute or two to realize the gentle knocking isn’t a leftover remnant from your deep slumber, but a very real sound coming from your front door. You wrap yourself in a robe and slip on a pair of house slippers, equally confused and irritated as to who could be knocking on your door when the sun is barely over the horizon. Just as the knocking stops, you peek through the peephole; there’s no one there. You rub your eyes and unlock your door with a sigh, expecting a leaflet from some early bird salesman or religious group to be stuck in the hinges. Instead you nearly trip over a huddled up mass taking refuge on your doorstep when you didn’t immediately open your door.

“Choso?! Oh my god, you scared me!” you’re still breathing a bit heavily, heart racing thinking a stranger had collapsed on your porch. “What are you doing here?”

“I,” Choso scrambles to his feet; you finally notice in his hands are two cups of coffee, one of which is your usual order, but the largest size. He holds it out to you. “Good morning. You weren’t answering your phone.”

“I turned it off.”

After a beat, you take the cup on autopilot, more preoccupied with the man standing at the threshold of your home. The circles under Choso’s eyes are darker than ever, in addition to how red and irritated they are around the edges, his hair is oily and limp. On closer inspection, you see he’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday; now they’re more wrinkled and the slight odor coming off them tells you he hasn’t showered yet. 

“Can I come in?” Choso asks, his voice weak and barely louder than a whisper. “I have to talk to you.”

“Fine.” you frown but move aside and open the door wider. “Here, come with me, I left my phone in my room.”

Choso does as he’s told, but trails after you at a slight distance, at least in comparison to how closely he usually stays to you. He’s shivering; it’s the middle of winter and he isn’t wearing even a jacket. How long had he been knocking on your door? How long had he planned to wait there outside? You banish the thought and busy yourself disconnecting your phone from its charger on your bedside table. Choso stands awkwardly in the middle of your room; he hasn’t taken so much as a sip of his coffee or taken his eyes off you, at least as far as you can see. 

“Did I wake you up?” he asks worriedly. “I’m sorry. I was going to wait but I thought you might have gone somewhere and you weren’t answering your phone, so…” he goes silent seeing his shirt in a crumpled heap in the corner of your room. “I just wanted to talk to you as soon as possible.”

You barely heard him, jaw dropping at your phone’s screen as it fully turns on to show you 32 missed calls, 15 unheard voicemails, 18 unopened texts, and 5 emails, all from Choso over the course of the night. You tap your thumb on the latest voicemail.

“Bunny? Bunny, can’t you just talk to me?” A shaky, nearly unrecognizable croaking comes from the speaker: Choso’s strong voice sounds strained, almost inaudible at certain points, as though he had been screaming until his throat was raw. “I know you’re probably sleeping…or maybe you don’t want to talk to me ever again-” A sharp, wrecked sob crackles over the speaker but Choso manages to steady himself again. “But I need to…I need to hear your voice. I’m so sorry, I’m so, so fucking sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t hate me. I love you so much it hurts. I’m going to stop by tomorrow, I need to see you. I know I messed up, I need help. My bunny? I can’t…oh god, I can’t do this. I-I feel like I’m dying, I’m…I love you. I love you, I love you, just please-”

Your heart drops to your churning stomach as Choso’s words morph into broken, unintelligible sobs. Finally after a few seconds, the other end goes quiet and the voicemail ends. A recorded voice tells you there’s still 14 more previously skipped voicemails; Choso has remained standing, stiff as a board and looking miserably at you. You take a seat on the side of your bed, staring bewildered at your phone; you decide to not listen to the other voicemails.

“I’m sorry.” Choso says in an absurdly small voice. “Can we talk?”

You’re holding the coffee in your hands on your lap and taking a deep breath before raising your face. “Choso, why did you do it?”

“I didn’t do it to hurt you. I don’t think your baking is stupid. I was being stupid.” Choso’s cheeks burn in shame. “I was jealous Gojo was getting the cake first, or I thought he was, and I just…I didn’t want him to have it. It’s always like this.”

“What do you mean?” you ask him slowly, tempering your own indignation. “Do you think he would flirt with me? Or that I would cheat on you?”

“No. I just get so...everyone likes you. So, what if someone better comes along? What if you stop paying attention to me?” Choso shakes his head quickly, gripping his hair like he wants to yank it out. “I have thoughts like that all the time. It's awful. I knew you would be sad, but I really thought it would only be a little and then I could make it better and you would…rely on me more. I don’t want you to get close to anyone else.” he lowers his arm to his side limply. “I know it’s wrong. Are you gonna bre-break up with me?”

You don’t speak just yet; your eyes study his drawn, exhausted face. Choso isn’t trying to make you feel bad for him, you know that much. The truth doesn’t make you feel much better though. 

“I was really mad at you yesterday. I needed space.”

“I know, but-”

“Listen,” you say firmly. “Whatever the reason, that was a really rotten thing you did. It was just plain mean and selfish. Sure, you didn’t really mean to hurt me, but you did. You purposely messed up something I put a lot of work into.”

“I know.” Choso’s expression is desolate. “I like that about you. I love that you do nice things for people even if you don’t have to. Y-you’re so careful and considerate of other people. I was being selfish and it was so, so fucking stupid. You would never do something like that to me…you’re so good to me.”

“Choso, this isn’t just about yesterday.” you soften your tone, mindful of your volume. Choso looks as if one cold word from you could shatter him into a million pieces. “If you were willing to trash something I put a lot of work into for such a petty reason, it’s making me second guess things and now I’m wondering if maybe you’re not the person I thought you were. Is it more important to keep me dependent on you than for me to be happy?” You set your cup down on the nightstand, trying to keep your voice from cracking. “Maybe this isn’t going to work out.”

“Don’t say that.” 

Choso all but drops his coffee onto your dresser, barely glancing at it as he rushes to you; he lowers himself down on his knees, eyes glistening with both unshed tears and sheer adoration as he looks up at your pained face. You let him hold your hands, still folded in your lap, as Choso rests his forehead on your lap. They’re ice cold; how long had he been waiting outside?

“It’ll never happen again. It shouldn’t have happened at all. I know I could have just talked to you, I know you would have listened, but I didn’t even give you a chance, I just did what I wanted. I’m not nearly as kind as you.” Choso admits, words muffled as he buries his face into your thighs. “I don’t deserve you, but I need you. I’ll do whatever you say until you trust me again. Do you hate me?”

“Choso, I never hated you, I was just hurt.” you squeeze his hands gently. “The only reason I got so upset in the first place is because I love you so much. Hell, the cake for the party was more practice than anything so I could make you an even better cake. If you were worried, you should have just told me. You’re not some evil person from feeling jealous, but what you did was wrong. I really need to know that you understand where I’m coming from, I don’t want us to break up or anything. Did you really think I was trying to end things yesterday?”

Choso nods, head still resting on your thighs. “I thought you blocked me on everything. I thou-thought you didn’t ever want to see me again. I should have waited, Eso even said you probably just needed some space, but…I’m so used to being with you, texting you. I was going crazy.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to ghost you. And I’m sorry for calling you a jerk.”

“I am a jerk.”

“No, you acted like a jerk,” you nudge Choso’s shoulder to get him to look up; he does, taking in your face with those pleading puppy dog eyes you can never resist. “I forgive you. I love you baby, so, so much.”

“Bunny,” Choso’s lip wobbles and fat tears roll down his cheeks and chin, dripping onto your hands. “Thank you. I’m sorry I made you cry, just thinking about it makes me want to-to-” he sniffs and clenches his teeth against a whine. “I’m just sorry. I love you. I missed you so much. I couldn’t sleep knowing you were hurting because of me and I wanted to come here right away, but I thought if I did you’d really be fed up and-”

“You didn’t sleep?!” you slowly sit and move so you’re seated further up the bed; Choso follows suit, basically crawling over your pillows and covers to be next to you, tears still streaming down either side of his face. “Choso, lay down baby, you should take a nap. You’ll feel better, believe me. We can talk more later and get something to eat.”

“‘So good to me.” Choso tugs on your arm. “I want to cuddle.” He immediately moves over so you can hold him, laying on your sides as Choso stares balefully up at you through blurry eyes. “Can I have a kiss?”

“Choso, you need sleep.”

“Please?” he mutters, eyes lingering on your pouty mouth. “Need a kiss.”

“Okay, just a little one.”

“Thank you. You’re always so good to me…”

You knew those basset hound eyes would be the death of you: what started out as a tender, chaste kiss swiftly evolved into big hands massaging your breasts, then fingers tugging at the sash of your robe, and finally you being pushed onto your back as Choso holds you down in a mating press. 

“So good!” Choso can’t stop letting out choked moans, so loud, they almost drown out your cries, pushing your thighs closer to your chest, somehow, some way forcing his cock impossibly deep. There’s hints of pain but the pleasure you get from his cock head rubbing against that little spot just behind your clit was overriding all of it. 

“Baby, gotta slow down, you’ll break me at this rate.” you moan, helpless as Choso ducks his head down to lick and suck on your almost painfully sensitive nipples. He had been playing with them obsessively, pinching, rolling, sucking, even leaving dark love bites all over your breast.

“Love you, missed your pussy so much, thought I was gonna, gonna die!”

“Oh god, Choso, please, please baby, it’s too much!” your head lolls side to side; he’s made you cum three times already. Your pussy is a sopping wet mess and it’s all you can do to not pass out as Choso’s thick cock stretches you open over and over again, surely bruising your cervix. “You’re so-ah!” you let out a piercing shriek that only seems to spur him on to go harder. “So deep in my pussy baby, I can’t-”

“Just a little more, I’m so close,” Choso huffs, looking down at you with heavy lidded eyes, cheeks burning and hair sticking to his forehead; he’s a mess from his own sweat and your slick covering his pelvis where he just won’t stop pounding into you. “You look so good like this, I could fuck you forever…gonna cum so hard, give it all to you,”

“Cum in me,” you sweep his damp hair off his forehead with a faint, fucked out smile. “I want to feel it dripping out of me…can you be a good boy and cum in my pussy?”

“Yes, yes! Oh fuck, yes!”

Choso kisses you roughly, hips rolling into yours, barely pulling his cock out at all, as though he wanted his cum to go as deep inside you as it could go. It’s hot and spurting into your battered insides; thankfully Choso has enough strength left to hold you up as he humps your plush, limp body like a dog in heat. 

“Mine,” he groans, thrusting once more with a violent shudder. “Only mine.”

You suppose it’s not the best idea to encourage him, but you nod anyway, shaky hand in his hair to pet the tangled strands, chest heaving and light headed as Choso pulls his softening cock out slowly so as not to hurt you. He pants against your neck, curled into your side and using his wide palm to rub gentle circles over your hips and thighs.

“My poor bunny.” Choso mutters fondly as his fingers trail over your twitching thighs. “I’ll do better. You won’t regret this. I’m gonna get a bath ready for you, okay?”

“Th-thank you.”

“Sh, just relax, don’t get up.” Choso moves sluggishly to take the box of tissues from your nightstand; the coffee he brought you has somehow not been knocked off in the frenzy. “You’re so cute like this. I’ll wipe you off a bit first, nice and easy. Does it hurt down there?”

“Not really; feels more numb actually.” you roll your head to stare at him directly, meaning to look at least a little serious but you come off more like a grumpy kitten. “Don’t think just because you made me almost pass out that I forgot everything from the past 24 hours mister. I’m holding you to your word.”

“Yes ma’am.” Choso agrees with a hum as he wipes at the mess between your legs. “Thank you again…I still ate the cake you made for me. It was really good.”

“Oh right.”

“Yuji said you should have thrown it in my face.” Choso adds, a bit sheepish at the memory. “I almost didn’t eat it: I thought it would be the last thing you ever gave me…”

“Choso,” you smile at him sadly. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you?”

“Uh huh.” Choso brings you into his arms, careful not to jostle you too suddenly. “Just scared. I’ve never felt this way before.”

“Never?”

“No.”

“Why are you scared? Do you still think I want to break up?”

Choso shrugs. “What if the more you get to know me, the more you see bad things?”

“What kind of bad things?”

“If…if I could, I’d keep you with me. Sometimes when we’re alone, I don’t want to let you go. Then I start wondering if trying to keep you safe will just make you unhappy with me or that I’ll scare you off and then…” A single tear escapes Choso’s eye and he draws you in closer to his chest. “I don’t know what I’d do. Compared to you, I’m really selfish and short sighted.”

“No one’s perfect. I’m not.”

“You're just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I overthink things and get worked up over upsetting people. I hold myself to unattainable standards.” you list off tiredly. “And I keep doing this thing where I shy away from letting people really…know me. Like if they do, I’ll just let them down. I feel like an imposter half the time when you say all these nice things about me. You’re the first person I’ve actually wanted to know me, warts and all. It’s worth getting to be with someone like you, Choso. That’s just how relationships work; you’re always risking getting hurt or disappointed when you let people love you…when you love someone. And I love you.”

“Um…is it bad that I feel happy I’m the only person you talk to like this?” Choso sniffles. “Sorry. I’m being selfish again.”

“Maybe a little, but for the right reasons.” you grin and wipe a thumb under his eye. “For the record, it makes me happy you think of me so highly. You make me feel special.”

“You are special and anyone who thinks otherwise is stupid.”

“Does that include me then?”

Choso looks visibly panicked. “Wa-wait, that’s not what I meant!”

“I know, I know, sorry baby.” you kiss him before he starts into another round of apologies. “That was just a little payback. Ah, Choso!”

“Not funny.” Choso grumbles, bundling you into the blankets as you giggle and let out a faux fearful squeal; the sly quirk of his lips betrays his actual intentions. “After your bath, I’m gonna give you a real reason to scream.”

[queenie-ofthe-void]

I've seen a few secret admirer Steddies going around where Steve's the one giving the notes (which I LOVE! I feel like those aren't as common)

But I headcanon Steve as having the worst handwriting. Therefore, I present platonic partners in crime CheerKing (is that right? Idk)

~~~

Under no conditions would Steve ask Carol to write the notes. But he's always liked Chrissy, and she seems trustworthy.

They strike up a deal. Chrissy will dictate Steve's notes and drop them in Eddie's locker herself. In return, Steve has to act as her fake-boyfriend to keep Jason at bay.

Then SHENANIGANS! Eddie gets feelings for Admirer, he sees Chrissy slip a note in his locker after Hellfire one evening. He's never had someone crush on him before, and he's straight (cue internalized homophobia, childhood trauma, big feelings for Steve he can't process) so he tries to convince himself he likes her.

The only problem is she's dating King Steve. Eddie hates the guy, with his stupid shiny hair and his big brown eyes and his moles and his smile... why does he get all the girls? Chrissy's the first girl to ever like him and of course Mr. Dreamy is dating her. They're not even clingy like he was with Wheeler so he probably doesn't even like her that much, just sees her as a rebound.

Eddie actually replies to the notes, leaving them in the library books Admirer tells him to. Steve knows Eddie likes Admirer, the pieces of Steve he shares in the notes, and it's the only way Steve gets to talk to him and he lives for it. But instead of Eddie asking who Admirer is, Steve watches as Eddie starts flirting with Chrissy. Steve gets all hurt and jealous because he thought Eddie was gay but now he's unsure. Still, he can't give up getting Eddie's replies, so he keeps writing.

Does Chrissy play along to keep Steve's secret even though this guy is crushing on her? Chrissy really likes Eddie, but she likes him as a friend. She decides to not tell him he's mistaken, because she wants to keep getting invites to band practice at Gareth's so she can spend more time with their cute friend Jeff.

Let's make it even more complicated! Instead of Tammy Thompson, Robin has a crush on Chrissy and sees her slip a note into Munson's locker on her way out of band practice and decides she's going to tell Steve to take him down a peg and hopefully breaks up with Chrissy. They then have a bathroom scene: she's been watching Steve and Chrissy for months and tells him how it's fucked up that he follows Eddie around, stares at him across the cafeteria, etc (she's saying it's bc Steve's jealous / Steve thinks she's calling him out). So he confesses, and cries. She feels like an asshat so she comes out too. They're just two gay idiots in love with straight people (only one of them is wrong. Sorry Robin!! Idk how to fix that part).

Steve starts coming with Chrissy to Hellfire night. Steve's doing it for protection from Jason, who's getting increasingly angry about Chrissy and Eddie. Eddie thinks Steve's being nice because he's sizing him up, trying to insert himself in between him and Chrissy in some macho way.

It all comes to a head when Jason catches Chrissy hanging with Jeff in the library (she's told Jeff EVERYTHING and is picking up Eddie's last reply). Jason hears them talking about Eddie planning to ask Chrissy out and decides to follow Eddie out to the quarry after school. Robin saw Jason pull out behind him and runs to tell Steve before he starts practice.

Steve rushes out and saves Eddie, then brings him home to patch him up. Eddie's pissy about it, Steve thinks it's adorable but frustrating. Jeff and Chrissy stop by the trailer when Eddie misses practice.

Eddie confesses his feelings to Chrissy, but she's holding hands with Jeff. Steve's forced to admit he's Admirer, sending Eddie head first into a sexuality crisis. But it's happy ever after so it's all good.

We get platonic hellcheer, platonic kingcheer (??), platonic stobin, Jeff x Chrissy (corrodedcheer??), and Steddie.

Idk there's something here but I don't want to write it lol Too many POVs and through lines for a person who already has a million WIPs.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

I’ve seen a few metas now that describe Crowley as self-loathing and…that’s not quite it to me.

Crowley for sure has Issues. He has a lot of anger and doesn’t always deal with it in constructive ways. He is hypervigilant as all fuck, and the fact that he is almost always correct about the amount of danger he and Aziraphale are in at a given moment just reinforces that hypervigilance feedback loop.

He has the hair-trigger flight response of someone who has spent millennia dodging oppressive forces that are more powerful than him, and this makes him default to RUN even when on some level he knows that is not the right response to a situation. He’s very aware that there are a lot of people out there who can hurt him, and there is no one coming to protect him. The only option is to try to avoid the blow.

And he is absolutely terrified of rejection, for very understandable reasons. This also encourages him to have one foot out the door of a situation, to pretend he doesn’t care, because if you leave first and actually never cared at all then you can’t be hurt. He is painfully aware that good things can be taken away from him without warning, that love that looks absolute can turn out to be conditional, because that already happened to him.

But. As much as I love a self-loathing blorbo, I don’t think Crowley hates himself.

Sure he talks a good game about how he’s not nice. But I don’t think, for example, that he thinks he is unworthy of Aziraphale’s love, that he is not good enough for Aziraphale because he is a demon or for any other reason. Because as far as Crowley is concerned, angels and demons are the same! All that good and evil stuff is just names for sides. I think he is afraid, because he’s still not sure, after all this time, if Aziraphale feels the same way he does, and broaching that topic is an enormous risk compared to just staying in the ambiguously-defined status quo they have now. (And then he works up the courage to do it anyway, and seems to have his worst fears confirmed.)

FWIW, I don’t think Aziraphale thinks that Crowley is not good enough for him either. Not at all. But I think Crowley might think that Aziraphale thinks that after the end of s2. And that really stings, because as much as they both gave lip service to the idea of “I’m good, you’re evil,” I think Crowley always assumed that Aziraphale saw through that when it came to him as a person, that it was just something Azirphale said and not something he really believed about Crowley, and now he’s not so sure.

I also think Crowley believes he did not deserve his fall (hot take: none of them did) not because he is extra-special Good, but because that’s a fucked-up thing for someone who said they loved you to do. While he is clearly still dealing with the trauma of it, I think he knows by now: I shouldn’t have been hurt like that. I didn’t deserve it, and it wasn’t my fault.

And so the horror of Aziraphale accepting the offer of going back to Heaven is partially I thought we both understood how this system works; I thought we were on our own side together and partially I can’t believe you’re going back to the people who hurt you and at least a little bit I can’t believe you’re going back to the people who hurt me. Do you think they were right?

(And Aziraphale doesn’t! He doesn’t think that! He thinks they were wrong, but he thinks they were wrong about Crowley, that it was an individual mistake and not a feature of a system that squashes questioning and nonconformity of any kind.)

I wrote a whole meta about “I won’t be forgiven, not ever” and “unforgivable, that’s what I am” in 2019 that I won’t rehash here, but tl;dr, I don’t think Crowley is saying that as a statement of his self-worth. I think he is saying, Heaven would never let me back in, and if they did, I wouldn’t go. Because I don’t want or trust the “acceptance” of people who don’t value me as I am.

And it’s part of the cruel dramatic irony of the Final Fifteen that one of the things that breaks them apart is that Crowley values himself enough not to go back to Heaven. Crowley, who we’ve seen will do almost anything for Aziraphale, says, No. I am not putting myself back in that abusive situation. You shouldn’t either; I really wish you wouldn’t; but if you do, I am still not going back there. Not even for you.

[quitealotofsodapop]

So if Wukong didn't know MK was playing superhero, why was he able to be caught by Spider Queen? The answer is clear. He took the younger cubs down to see the parade. That way, he could be closer to the fireworks, and his kids are entertained. He ended up being caught up in the initial attack and discovered MK playing hero while trying to evacuate the cubs away from the angry spider lady trying to turn people into spider zombies.

Wukong is not happy, but at this point there are far more important things to deal with. He orders MK to get his siblings somewhere safe while he handles Spider Queen. When MK protests, he tells him that MK's arachnophobia would only get in the way, and he is still Sun Wukong, the gods be damned Great Sage Equal To Heaven and the Monkey King. He isn't so far into his retirement that he can't put an upstart little princess in her place.

The plan backfires and Wukong gets captured by LBD and Spider Queen, of course, but hey, the Noodle Crew gets to meet MK's siblings! Sandy babysits them while they're in Heaven trying to get the stuff. All they know of it is that MK's mom was caught by the Spider Queen, they don't know yet exactly who his parent is. Not until much later when Wukong and DBK break out of their bonds and save them.

"Holy shit, is that Sun Wukong!?" ;Probably Tang

"Mom!" :MK

"MOM!?" :Literally eveyone

After all is said and dine Wukong makes good on his promise of a long talk, or rather lecture, and MK is grounded.

"I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU WOULD BE SO RECKLESS! Xiaotian, your father an I taught you better than this! What were you thinking!?"

"But when you were my age you were at war with Heaven, though!"

"And look what that got me! Thrown in a furnace and pinned under a mountain for 500 years! What you did was stupid and reckless. What if you'd gotten hurt!? Your still mortal, MK!"

Referencing.

Yesss. Wukong canonically adores New Years, and I def agree that love extends to the cubs too.

Wukong does a "surprise" visit to Megapolis to show the younger cubs the New Years Parade + check up on his eldest while MK is helping Pigsy with the foodtruck. Likely all in glamours, but MK 100% gets an embarassing visit from his mom at work. The Noodle shop gang tease him endlessly about it.

Then cue the Spider Queen's invasion, and Wukong giving MK the cubs to watch for the moment while he Kings Up. MK doesn't want his mom to go in his condition, but Wukong is still The Monkey King, and has no idea that his son has been superhero-ing for the past couple of months.

The gang all meet up on Sandy's airship, and the kiddos glamours all drop from stress. This is where the gang confirms (they had suspiscions) that MK is a disguised demon - they dont mind since thats sadly common in human-dominated cities. MK specifically being a monkey demon gets Tang asking questions though.

Red Son shows up and has a brain-fart mid-plan when he recognises who "Noodle Boy" actually is;

Red Son: "Xiaotian!? I haven't seen you since we were calves! This explains so much!" MK, nervous sweating: "Not now dude! My mom got captured by the Spider Queen, and my dad is MIA right now." Red Son: "Ah but of course. Seems we have the same predicament then. No fear, I have a plan to defeat the Spider Queen and save our respective parents." Tang, panic-nerding: "MK, how do you know Red Son!?" MK, flash of SWK-esque anger: "NOT NOW."

The gang get to the Celestial Realm and retrieve what they need to make the antidote - though not without attracting the attention of a certain hound that just realised her fave monkey is here.

MK, petting the dog: "I'm sorry Quan. I can't play right now! I'm saving the city." Xiaotian Quan: (*sad whine!*)

Meanwhile at the Spider Mech; DBK has finally met his little brother/enemy once again. DBK in his anger, yells about Sun Wukong's "little-thief successor MK" ruining so many of his family's attempts at gaining power, and Wukong just blanks;

Wukong, scary parent voice: "Xiaotian has been doing what!?" DBK: "The Little Thief is Xiaotian!?"

DBK would also shout at Wukong for putting himself in danger in his condition, but quiets when he learns that Macaque is missing. Tieshan had seemed worried since DBK got back (infact, maybe its why she decided to free him), and everyone knows that the shadow monkey wouldn't leave his mate without reason. When LBD arrives, DBK and Wukong immediate get a chill up their spines. They both know that she's somehow involved with Mac's disappearance... DBK has his super-saiyan moment of worried-anger and frees both himself and his xiandi so that they can find their reckless kids.

The Noodle Shop gang (+ Red Son and the cubs) bust on through with the spider-venom antidote and manage to subdue the Spider Queen with their combined forces.

Tang is about to fanboy at the sight of Sun Wukong in the flesh when MK and the cubs yell something that shatters his preconceptions.

MK & the cubs: "Mom!" "Mama!" Noodle Shop Gang: "MOM?!?" Wukong, swarmed by baby monkeys: "Thank Nuwa you're all ok!" (*hugs them all tight*) Wukong: (*suddenly bonks MK on head with a sandal*) Wukong: "And you! How dare you not tell me that you've been fighting demons this whole time! You told me you were only getting a job for mortal experience!" MK: "But mom! I did get a job! I've been using my spare time trying to figure out what happened to dad!" Wukong: "Which I specifically told you Not to do!! Your father has gotten himself tangled up with a very dangerous witch and I'm not letting you run into one of her traps!" Noddle Shop Gang + DB fam: (*standing at a safe distance from the yelling*) Tang, dizzy with excitement: "Anyone else feel like they're in a fantasy right now?" Mei: "Hm, not really. I knew Xiaotian since we were pups. My grunkle Ao Lie is the same dragon-horse from the stories." Tang: "Excuse me!?"

Erlang shows up on Earth asking Wukong tf just happened - his third eye showed him the chaos in the Celestial Realm and Lao Tzu is pissed for his missing pills and Furnace. But he immediately leaves when he sees tje carnage of a saved mortal city + Sun Wukong. (Erlang: "Ah. Say no more.")

[georgie-weasley]

Shenanigans F.W. x Reader

Warnings: a few swear words, one mention of abducting, and I think that's it (let me know if I missed something)

Word Count: 4.2k

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: You and Fred pair up to get George a partner and along the way you learn your feelings for Fred might not be just friendly

Masterlist

It was a rather peaceful Saturday morning. It was a nice November morning and the cool chill in the air mixing with the warmth in the castle only made it better. You were sitting by yourself at the table with a book in one hand and eating breakfast with the other. After breakfast you planned to do some more reading and if it warmed up enough, you might even read outside. All you wanted to do was relax.

“I’ve got a plan and I need your help.” As soon as the words came out of Fred’s mouth, you could sense the trouble that was bound to follow it. He squeezed his way into the spot next to you at the table. He had a wild gleam in his eye and a mischievous smirk on his face. This was gonna be a bad one but you were intrigued. Not to mention he completely threw out any plans to relax as soon as he showed up

“Do tell Fred.” You set down your fork and book and turned to face him. It was not uncommon for Fred to come to you with grand schemes. You, Fred, and George were connected at the hip since first year. People started to call you guys the triplets since there was never a time one of you was seen without the others. You spent summers and holidays with the Weasley family and you were thrilled to say that they all loved you. Molly and Arthur saw you as another daughter and they treated you as such. You got a sweater in your favorite color with your initial each Christmas, a birthday cake each year, and you were punished in the same way. If the twins were grounded for terrorizing poor Ron out of his mind, then you were too, if you were found guilty and you usually were.

“We need to get George a girlfriend.” He smiled brightly and threw an arm around your shoulder. “He’s been so sad about the breakup and the perfect thing for him would be a new relationship.” Fred wasn’t wrong about George being heartbroken but setting him up with someone because he’s hurt over a breakup? That’s dumb.

The three of you were 16 and sweet George was a romantic that wore his heart on his sleeve. He fell in love with anyone that looked him in the eyes or was remotely nice to him. Fred was a flirt but he kept real feelings away. He was more cautious and didn’t fall head over heels for just anyone. You, well there were a few people you found attractive but you never dated anyone. No one really stood out to you. George was the only one that had any sort of semi-serious relationship out of the three of you.

“How can you possibly think that this is the right way to help him move on? Your brother could sniff out a prank a mile away.” You rolled your eyes and moved his arm off of you. “Besides, George has an open heart. What if we find someone and it goes wrong and breaks his heart again? What will you do then?”

Fred only shrugged and stole some food off of your plate. “It’s not a prank, it's just… well I don’t know a different way to say it but it’s not a prank. We’re just trying to find him someone that will love him and won’t break his heart. Come on, I know you want to.”

He was right. George had been moping around for weeks and he hardly ate. He didn’t run around causing trouble and his smile never reached his eyes anymore. It was painful to see your best friend become a shell of who he usually was. While getting him a rebound didn’t seem like the best idea, you didn’t have a better one. “I’ll do it on one condition. We don’t force anyone to like him by paying them or anything.”

“Of course not. Even if I wanted to, I don't have nearly enough money to pay someone to deal with George.” Fred smiled and kissed the top of your head. “Finish breakfast and meet me at the lake. Our quest begins in an hour!” He ran off, weaving between the students making their way into the Great Hall.

An hour later, you bundled up and met Fred. It was freezing and even though you were wearing gloves and a thick coat and a scarf, you were certain you were only seconds away from turning into a nice ice sculpture. The freckled redhead waved as he caught sight of you. He was smiling and looked positively thrilled to be starting this plan with you. “Down to business,” Fred started as soon as you stood next to him. “First we need to find out if anyone likes him or if he’s anyone’s type. Then, we can start dropping hints and start finding ways to get them together. George will be happy and then at their wedding we can come forward and tell them all the hard work we did.” It sounded like a pretty solid plan but there wasn’t much to it. Usually Fred was more elaborate, almost too elaborate.

“So what are we supposed to do, just go around and ask people if they fancy George? He’s bound to hear and pick up on it.” You rubbed your shoulders and stepped closer to Fred for warmth. “Couldn’t we have talked about this somewhere inside? I think I’m gonna get frostbite if I’m out here for much longer.”

“No, you’re going to ask people if they fancy George. He’s less likely to suspect you if you ask. He might even think you like him.” Fred laughed and removed his scarf, wrapping it around your neck. “Do you fancy George? If you do then you can just date him and everything will be better.” He wiggled his eyebrows and leaned in, poking your side.

“Absolutely not. George is a brother to me.” It was the truth. Fred was eyeing you like he thought you were lying but he didn’t say anything. You loved George but he was just never someone you saw in a romantic light. He was sweet and kind but he was a little more subdued. He was calm and reminded you of a fireplace. He was warm and comforting and made you feel safe and at home. You preferred someone louder and more outgoing. Someone that was more of a bonfire, big and full of energy and unpredictable. Someone more like Fred.

“Fine, fine, if you say so. Maybe while you’re asking around you can talk George up too. Make him sound appealing.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close, tucking you into his side. “Just not too appealing. If they think you like him, no one will go for it.” If Fred wasn’t providing an incredible amount of warmth, you’d have shoved him away.

“What exactly will you be doing then? Sitting around and looking pretty?”

Fred barked out a laugh and it warmed you from within. “While I am pretty fantastic at doing that, I’m gonna start working on George and get him to a more presentable emotional state.”

“You know,” you mumbled as you wrapped your arms around his middle, hiding your hands under his coat, “we can just let him work through his emotions at his own pace and help him in a way he wants us to.”

Fred nodded and sighed. “I know and it would probably be the better idea but I hate seeing him so sad. I just want him to be happy.” Your heart fluttered at his words. Fred was loud and always smiled but he had real emotions under his happy exterior. He wasn’t like George who could be read like a book. Fred was a secret diary kept under lock and key. It was nice to hear him openly show his love for his brother.

“We can start as soon as I let you go. I think I might have frozen myself to you.” Without a warning, Fred shifted and hooked one arm under your arms and the others behind your knees and lifted you up. With a squeal, you wrapped your arms around him and held on for dear life as he walked you back to the castle.

---

Over the next week, you tried to ask around about George but either no one liked him or no one was willing to admit they liked him. On more than one occasion, people mentioned Fred and you were surprised to feel the jealousy building in your chest. You were asking about George and they kept bringing up his twin. No wonder George felt like he was living in the shadows. That was the reason you were jealous.

Fred apparently had more luck as George was beginning to act more like himself as the days went on. He was smiling more and making jokes and it made everything worth it.

On Friday, almost a week after Fred approached you with his plan, you were walking to class after lunch. Fred caught up to you and grabbed your arm, pulling you to the side of the hallway. “Y/N, I wanted to ask how things have been.”

“Not great. No one likes him or they just aren’t telling me. I’ve tried asking anyone I think might like him and nothing. I’m sure someone likes him but I haven’t found them.” It broke your heart a little to think that no one out there found George handsome or wanted to date him. He was a total catch and he deserved someone good.

“Maybe we need a new approach.” Fred rubbed the back of his head and looked around the hallway. “What about we focus on people that are George’s type and see how they feel. Then we can narrow it down a little bit more. We can start with Angelina.”

“Angelina? From the Quidditch team? Why are we starting with her?”

“She’s smart, funny, athletic, and attractive. She’s perfect.” There was that jealousy again, burning in your chest. He really felt all those things for her?

“No way. She has very clearly expressed to me that she doesn't like you. Besides, she has a thing with some Ravenclaw boy. She doesn’t want you.” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. What was so great about Angelina anyway? There were plenty of other people that were all that and more.

“This is about George, not me.” Fred smirked and grabbed your cheeks in his hand, squishing them together. “Are you jealous?”

“Of course not. I just mixed you two up. Just give me a list of people to ask and I’ll find out. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to class.” Jerking your head away from his grasp, you spun around. You didn’t even make it a step away from Fred when some first year came barreling at you, slamming into your side. You stumbled and closed your eyes, preparing for impact when strong arms grabbed you by the waist.

“Watch where you’re going you little gremlin!” Fred yelled after the first year. He steadied you on your feet, his hands resting on your hips as he looked you over for any bumps or bruises. Your eyes landed first on his arms. Has he always been this fit? Your eyes traveled up his arms until they landed on his face. His brown eyes were full of concern as they continued to trail over your body. Freckles decorated his whole face, most of them concentrated around his nose. He had one that was perfectly in the center of the tip of his nose and you found yourself wanting to kiss it. That’s a new feeling. So was catching yourself staring at his lips and finding yourself licking your own. God you would give anything to kiss him, just to see what it was like. As you looked back at his eyes, you jumped a little seeing how intently he was looking into yours. “Are you ok?” His mouth was moving and you were sure he was talking to you but he sounded like he was underwater or across the castle grounds.

The bell signaling the end of the passing period restarted your senses. You scrambled to adjust your bag and nodded. “I’m fine but I really gotta go. Get me that list later.” Without a goodbye, you ran off to class. Your heart was pounding in your chest and it wasn’t because of your run. That was all thanks to Fred. Your friendship with Fred has always been a close one and while this wasn’t the first time he’s saved you from your doom, this one felt weird. Maybe it was because you had been talking about relationships so much or maybe it was because you were 16 and had hormones. Either way, you didn’t like it one bit.

That night at dinner, Fred handed you a sheet of paper after George had left the Great Hall. There were ten names listed and you had talked to almost everyone listed. “These are all the people I know George has found attractive or would be his type. Do any of them look promising?” He sat next to you and you were disappointed that he left an appropriate amount of space between the two of you.

“Not really. I haven’t asked that sixth year Slytherin but I’m pretty sure they aren’t interested. Wait, why do you have Hermione on this list?” She was two years younger than the three of you and she was one of Ron’s best friends, even if he never said that.

“She’s pretty cute and she’s smart. I thought George would go for it. You don’t think so?” Ugh, he called another person attractive. He needed to shut up and keep his opinions to himself.

“Of course not. She’s too young. We graduate next year and then if they did date he would be heartbroken to leave her.” You rolled your eyes and continued scanning the list. “Minerva McGonagall? Fred, are you serious?”

He only shrugged and looked up at the head table where Professor McGonagall was eating dinner. “Maybe he’d like how stern she is.”

“I’m going to kill you. This list is useless. I think we should just give up and let him work through things at his own pace.” You tore up the paper; if anyone saw it they would be extremely confused and probably give it to McGonagall since Fred was dumb enough to really add her to the list.

“No, I have one more plan and if that doesn’t work, then I’ll leave it alone and let George take care of it.” Fred blushed a little and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked almost embarrassed at the thought of his other plan.

“What exactly is this other plan?”

---

The next day Fred stood in the hallway wearing his brother’s sweater. The ‘G’ on his chest clearly must have been his grand plan. “This is it? You’re just going to pretend to be George?”

Fred smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “I’m also going to flirt with people and try and see how they feel.” Everything was starting to feel more and more stupid as this went on. At this point, you wanted to just stop Fred and tell him to give it up but before you could, he was off talking to a group of sixth years.

You stood back and watched, your heart growing heavy as he laid on the charm. Fred was always a flirt and he knew how to make someone’s knees weak. It never bothered you until now. It was always common to see Fred flirting at least a little. It wasn’t always on purpose as sometimes he was just nice and it came off as flirty but he never cared.

“Hey, how are you guys?” Fred smiled and leaned against the wall. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you all. I would never forget such beautiful faces.”

A Hufflepuff girl giggled and blushed, tucking her hair behind her ear. A Ravenclaw boy looked like he was trying not to fall for it but the small smile on his face said it all. “We’re alright. I’m going to take a wild guess that the ‘G’ on your sweater means you’re George?” The Hufflepuff asked.

“That would be me. You’ve heard of me?”

“It’s hard not to hear about you or your brother.” The Ravenclaw shrugged and looked at a Ravenclaw girl that had been standing a little behind him. “What can we do for you George?”

Fred smirked and shrugged, moving closer. “I just saw all of you standing here and I felt myself drawn in.” The Hufflepuff giggled again and seeing how she seemed the most interested, Fred threw his arm around her shoulders. “What are a bunch of pretty people like yourselves doing on this fine day?”

The Hufflepuff, you think her name might have been Christine, glanced over at Fred. “Nothing really. I have a question, is this your real hair?” She reached up and ran her fingers through her hair.

That was a knife right to the heart. Tears started to well up in your eyes and your stomach dropped to your feet. You knew he was just pretending and all he wanted to do was help George but it was all too much. You turned around and sprinted down the hallway. Fred saw you out of the corner of his eye and called after you, ignoring the group to chase you.

You could hear him calling your name and begging you to stop but you couldn’t. How could you face him like this? Here you were breaking down all because he was flirting with some random kids. This was all so stupid. He was your best friend and that was it. He was your funny, stupid, handsome best friend that always got himself into trouble. He was loud and obnoxious and never knew when to quit but he was also so caring and protective and wonderful. He kept you safe and made you smile and made your heart flutter every time he smiled. His laugh warmed you from the inside and the sparkle in his eyes made your brain turn to mush. He was everything you ever wanted.

You were still running with no clue where you were headed when Fred finally caught up and grabbed your arm, effectively stopping your escape. Fred spoke up as soon as his breathing returned to normal. “Y/N, what happened? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. You ran off crying and you’re trying to tell me nothing is wrong? Do you think I’m stupid? Tell me what’s wrong.” He took his hand off you and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Nothing happened Fred so just stop asking.” You turned away from him and rubbed your eyes, trying to get the tears to stop flowing. This was all so stupid.

Fred grabbed you by the shoulders and spun you to face him. “Please, tell me. I’m your best friend. What’s wrong?”

Best friend. He was your best friend and that was the problem. He made your stomach twist up in knots and your hands sweaty and your heart race and he was your best friend. It wasn’t like you could even lie to yourself and say you just had a thing for gingers; you never felt this way around George or Ron or any other Weasley, just Fred. You were in love with your best friend. This could ruin everything. Your breathing sped up and your hands started to shake. You had to get out of here.

“I’m done helping you Fred. I can’t do this anymore.” You slowly stepped back and tried to ignore your heart breaking as you looked at his face. Fred was frowning and he looked absolutely devastated by your words. He reached out for you and with great effort, you shook your head and took another step back. “Just, leave me alone.” With that, you ran away.

---

It was absolute torture to avoid Fred and George but you managed to do so for a couple days. George had done nothing wrong but you couldn’t risk anything. He could be helping Fred or he could be Fred. It was truly horrible to watch Fred try and get close to you. He would slip you notes in class and you threw them away immediately. He tried to catch you in the halls but you would push your way through crowds and lose him. He even tried to sit next to you at meals but everytime he did, you left. This was the best thing you could do. Now that you admitted your feelings toward Fred to yourself, there was no way things could go back to normal. You couldn’t pretend there were no feelings and while you couldn’t stand being away from him, this was the only thing preserving even a small part of your friendship. It was destroying a fair part of it but maybe this way you could still remain acquaintances and see the family. Losing Fred was horrible enough but the thought of losing the whole Weasley family, you couldn’t stand it.

After lunch on Sunday, you headed off to the owlery to send a letter home. You weren’t telling anyone about what was happening but you needed to inform your parents that you likely would not be spending the next break at the Burrow. Halfway there, a hand lunged out from behind a tree and grabbed you, pulling you over. Another hand covered your mouth. What was happening? Thinking fast, you bit the hand covering your mouth.

“Ow! Holy shit! What the hell Y/N?” You spun to see Fred waving his hand around, a bright red mark on his palm where you bit him. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? You just tried to abduct me!” You smacked him in the chest and glared but it soon faded as you began laughing. Fred lightly pushed your shoulder and joined in the laughter. God it felt so nice to laugh with him again. After a moment, the laughter faded and your face was serious once more. “What do you want, Fred?”

He swallowed thickly and shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet. He chewed on his bottom lip, debating what to say. He was nervous. Fred always bit his lip when he was nervous. “I wanted to talk to you. It's been a couple days of you ignoring me. What did I do wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“Then why are you taking it out on me?”

“Because it’s your fault.”

Fred’s mouth dropped open. “So I did nothing wrong but this is my fault? What kind of bullshit is that?”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. “It’s not bullshit, ok? It’s just the truth.” You tried to take a step back, hoping to get out of this situation but you bumped into the tree.

He threw his hands in the air. “Then tell me what I did!”

“God Fred, don't you get it? I love you! I think I’ve been in love with you since I was 13 and it’s killing me because I just noticed it! I thought it was perfectly normal to think about how handsome your best friend is or how much you want to kiss them! I am madly in love with you and I was trying to save our friendship by putting some distance between us because I can't go on like this. I can’t look at you and want to kiss you and just pretend that I don’t. I can’t watch you flirt with other people and pretend like my heart isn’t being shattered every time. I can’t do it Fred. I can’t let my feelings for you ruin my friendship with you or George or Ron or Ginny or anyone else. I would rather have you not at all than watch you fall in love with someone else! I’m sorry I’ve ruined everything but I—”

Fred surged forward and grabbed your face in his hands as he slammed his lips to yours. You stood in complete shock before you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His lips moved against yours and you moved closer, pressing your body to his. Fred slid his hands to your hips and pushed you against the tree. You both parted for air but he didn’t go far; he kept his forehead pressed to yours. “You talk way too much.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t dare move. “You don’t hate me?”

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I was 12. Of course I don’t hate you.” Fred smiled and ran his thumb over your cheek. “What made you realize you like me?”

You blushed and groaned. “This is going to inflate your ego so much but when you were flirting with that Hufflepuff pretending to be George.” Fred only laughed and gave you a quick peck on the lips.

“You know, I must say I’m a little disappointed we never got George a girlfriend but I’m pretty happy with this outcome.”

“Just happy?”

“Would ecstatic be a better word?” Fred mumbled, leaning back in for another kiss.

“Sounds good to me,” you whispered as your lips met again.

[captaintoomanybattles]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤

(Not sure which blog would be best to send it)

Thank you so much for the ask! This is the blog I normally post fic on, so this is perfect.

Five favorite fics I've written:

Not a Perfect Soldier: This was the first long fic I finished, and I'm still really proud of it. Steve in canon has a lot of agency (even if I think SHIELD definitely tries to manipulate him), so I was fascinated with the idea of what would change if he started out in captivity.

In a world where HYDRA was wiped out in the '40s, Steve is found by the Army rather than SHIELD. General Thaddeus Ross wants a perfectly obedient super-soldier at his command, and to that end, he sets out to break Steve to his will. As Steve struggles to come to terms with all he has lost, his life in captivity is only made bearable by the presence of another prisoner-- another super-soldier known only as "Soldat". Then the Avengers strike a deal with Ross to "borrow" him for missions, and Steve is faced with a team who dislikes him, an organization he doesn't trust, and the question of what he's willing to do to escape Ross's clutches.

The Kind You Save: I love exploring the idea of what Steve would be like as the Winter Soldier, and what the Winter Soldiers would be like if there were two of them. I also love Sam Wilson, and it was really fun to write the relationship between the three of them!

When HYDRA sends the Winter Soldiers to assassinate the new Captain America, they expect the mission to be an easy one. After all, they're super-soldiers-- how hard can it be to kill one unenhanced human? As more and more of their attempts prove unsuccessful, however, the Soldiers' respect for Wilson grows, as does their suspicion that HYDRA's motives are not what they seem. If Sam Wilson is a good man, what does that make them…?

Six Blade Knife: Another fic with Steve and Bucky as Winter Soldiers. This is basically exploring how the Soldiers, conditioned to expect the worst possible treatment, would react to a kinder captivity with the Avengers. I started a WIP with this premise a long time ago but didn't really know where to go with it; I ended up sharing it with ZepysGirl, who helped me figure out an actual plot!

During a raid on an AIM base, the Avengers find a pair of cryotubes in a basement laboratory. When they release the men inside, they find that they are none other than the Winter Soldiers, the assassins so mysterious that most people in the Intelligence community consider them little more than a ghost story. However, as they learn more about the Soldiers, Sam and Natasha begin to suspect that the Soldiers may not have been operating under their own free will. Soldat and Kapitan wake from cryo to new handlers unlike anyone they've encountered before. Captain Wilson and Agent Romanoff seem to have no interest in hurting them, wiping their memories, or sending them on missions. As the Soldiers adapt to this kinder status quo, they must decide how far they are willing to go to protect their new handlers from their old ones.

Brave Soldier Boy (Comes Marching Home): This was a response to a bingo prompt featuring Winifred Barnes. Canon doesn't give us much information about Bucky and Steve's relationships with their families, so I really enjoyed exploring Winifred's point of view!

Ten years after losing her son in the war, Winnifred Barnes receives an unexpected visitor. The Winter Soldier needs her help with an important mission.

I Just Want You to Know Who I Am: This was based on a prompt from BulkyPhrase. It was really interesting to explore what might have happened differently if the serum made Steve look like Red Skull. How would that affect other people's treatment of Steve, and how would it affect Steve's conception of himself?

By the time Steve Rogers was selected for Project Rebirth, Erskine thought he had eliminated the side effect that turned Johann Schmidt into Red Skull. He was wrong. This story explores the question: What would change if the serum caused Steve to look like Red Skull?

[a-bit-too-silly]

If you're still looking for drabble ideas, maybe a CG Deadpool with a masc little who wants to play superheros with him when they're little :)))

i haven't played superheroes in forever but it was my favorite :D

i hope this is alright! sorry it took so long though, classes started early

Super

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

While Wade may not be the typical definition of a superhero, he tries his best. He's cut down on the whole stabby stabby part and *tries* to follow the law most of the time. After all, he's often got at least one little one to wrangle and being covered in sharp objects is far too dangerous! He's gotta be baby proofed more often than not and everyone knows he can't be parted from his beloved bubbies for long.

Thankfully, he gets to play the supervillain in this game.

-

With an evil cackle that could probably land him a role in a Disney movie, he runs across the yard with a hero quick on his tail. "You'll never catch me! I've already taken your poor cookies hostage, and you're never getting them back!" He says in an overly dramatized voice.

"Nuh-uh!" Is the only response he gets before being tackled onto the soft grass. His little peanut has thwarted him? Impossible! He's the great... uhh... Cookie thief! No one catches the cookie thief!

He hugs the cookie filled bento to his chest as the hero stands up over him, pointing down at him with an accusatory finger.

"Let go of the cookies an' nobody hafta get hurt." they say in their 'hero voice'.

"Never." He says, pouting up at the hero.

That seems to take a moment to process. While to Wade it may be a bit obvious that a villain is never going to simply stop because a hero told them to, it might not be as intuitive to his baby boy.

"... *Maybe.*" Wade dramatizes. "Maybe we can come to an agreement, hero."

His grip on the bento loosens slightly, his gloved fingers drumming on the top. His baby crosses their arms and looks down with an attempt at a scowl, ah superheroes.. always so serious.

"I'll release your precious cookies.. on one condition!" He points up, "You've gotta wash your hands.. AND!"

"You said one!"

"And I'm evil! Evil people lie!" Wade scoffs, "anyway, *and* you need to join me for snack time."

The hero taps their chin as he thinks, giving a drawn out 'hmmmm' as they do so. Just as he's seen on TV.

"What's for snack time?"

"Well.. as the renowned Cookie Thief, I think it's only fair for there to be *some* cookies involved." He reasons, trying to sweeten the deal so he can escape once again.

"Can there be apple bunnies too?"

"Of course! I'll never say no to some delectable apple bunnies."

The marvelous hero, having saved the cookies, steps aside and allows Wade to stand up. Wade, true to his villainous nature, breaks off into a run. Not a true run, he still needs his baby to chase him after all, but a joking sprint for sure.

"Muahahahaha!" He cackles, "Race me inside, then we'll see who gets all the cookies!"

"You'll never win, Papa!"

And yeah.. that's true. He always lets his little guy win. He's a *reasonable* villain, and how could any reasonable villain say no to that cutie?

[moonlight-prose]

THROUGH THE VALLEY

➝ A HURT INTERLUDE

a/n: i was unable to let this idea go. i was scouring through the prompt lists i have saved to use and i stumbled across these lines. it's nothing long, just a small interlude into another conversation between joel and reader, but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless. y'all are welcome to ask about this fic if you want! i am full of inspo cause of this show.

from this prompt list:

"if you don’t fight, you die." "i’m beyond saving at this point." "why don’t we just stay here? live out the rest of our lives?"

summary: hiding in an abandoned house for the night brought back memories of your past.

word count: 2.7k+

pairing: joel x f!reader

warnings: not explicit but still 18+, angst, tw dead bodies, the makings of a friendship, joel doing his best, shitty food, shitty sleeping conditions, death, grief, ptsd.

series masterlist

Trees lined the border of the property, the leaves now growing back in small buds in the spring air. You could smell it. The sweetness of its sap, the light airy floral scent of wildflowers in what you assumed used to be a beautiful front yard. They had a garden at one point—the rotting wood of a flower bed still sticking up from the overgrown grass—and you couldn’t figure out why that realization made you smile.

As if the lives of the people who came before prevailed through their small actions—their way of making a mark on the world. You couldn’t see through the boarded up windows, but you knew that there must be something to keep you and Joel alive. If not shitty food that most likely had gone bad, then possibly another warm bed to sleep in until the morning sun came again. While you wouldn’t say daytime was a safer option to be walking around the empty towns and neighborhoods—it certainly helped.

“The door’s barred,” Joel muttered, kicking the wood with his foot to check if it was just as strong as he believed.

“Fuck,” you huffed.

With the spring air came the oncoming muggy heat of summer. The closer you got to Boston, the worse the weather became. You felt sweat trickle down the back of your neck, seeping into your already stick shirt. Neither of you could afford to lose the clothes you currently wore. Which meant you simply had to endure the disgusting weather, hoping to come across a cold stream or river you could bathe in along the way.

“I could get through one of the widows,” you offered. Breaking wood off a window would be far easier than dealing with the door.

You had half a mind to turn back and head in a different direction, but you were exhausted having escaped a group of stalkers with your life. It seemed that wherever you turned, the both of you attracted trouble. At this point you were ready to give up and call it here; say goodbye to him and wish him well. But in the weeks you’d been traveling with him, you had made the mistake and grown attached. Anyone would after spending so much time with only one person.

Joel protected you from the depravity of the infected, from the darkness inside of yourself. As much as you didn’t think he realized it—you did the same for him. You liked to believe you were friends, but the word allies was probably what he considered you to be.

Without any further prompting, he walked up the left side of the house and picked up a large rock. He threw it, stepping back as the glass shattered onto the grass down below. The sound was loud, echoing off the row of houses, but you figured if you got inside and stayed silent, you could avoid another run in. At least until you were ready to move on once more. Leaving another safe house behind for something bigger.

The wood had rotted due to water damage, falling apart with ease as Joel threw another rock. Eventually, a space large enough for you to crawl through opened up and he was telling you to prop your leg on his knee. With enough strength as you could muster, you swung yourself into the window, landing on the ground with a sharp thud. Causing an ache to spread through your left leg, the limb already bruised from your recent stunt of leaping over a car hood.

“See anything?” Joel called from outside.

“Ow shit,” you muttered, getting to your feet and switching on the flashlight you found at an old safe house a state away.

Dust particles formed in the beam of light, hindering your view slightly, but from what you could tell the people in this house had boarded themselves up inside of it. You knew people who thought that trapping themselves away would save them from the infection. Except it always found a way. Hiding only allowed a person to live for so long. Eventually…the inevitable would catch up and take what they held most dear to them—their life.

“It looks clear!” you shouted, slowly surveying the different bedrooms in case you had missed something important.

There was a bed in each room of the two rooms, mold growing up the walls in what you guessed to be a kids room, and something else entirely stretching along the floors. It wasn’t until you got to the closet, did you find out what exactly it was. As you suspected, a cooked infected was curled up in the corner, fungus spreading along the walls and stopping at a certain point. To you, it looked like a woman—her hand splayed across a box with a person’s handwriting all over it.

“Boston?” Joel called, his footsteps growing louder as he walked down the hallway. “C’mon tell me you’re alive in here.”

“I’m alive,” you replied, although your voice sounded different. Empty.

Just with one look at her, you understood what happened—why she ended up where she had. This wasn’t the body of an infected. No, it was just a woman, curling up with the last piece of her family she had left. She looked a little older than you when the outbreak first happened—probably in her early twenties—and you could still see the life that must have practically glowed from her. Yet another life destroyed by this fucking virus.

“She died human,” you said, feeling your chest ache with memories of your mother, your family that was no more. Even though she didn’t allow herself to turn, the virus still took her—claiming her as its own in the end.

That thought was too horrific to think about. So, you pushed it out of your mind for the time being. As much as you feared the virus, you feared not being able to fight against it in death a whole lot more. You knew the fungus grew underground, digging into the Earth’s crust and creating life that didn’t belong.

Joel stood silent beside you. His eyes focused not on the woman, but on you. Watching while you relived your grief one more time—the pain spreading from your chest down to the very tips of your fingers. Your mouth felt dry, the threat of tears still there, but never one you believed would come on its own. It had been a long time since your body allowed itself to cry.

Over time, the emotions got stuck in your heart, embedding themselves just a bit deeper the longer you were still alive. The more you survived—endured—the more you lost the ability to control them. Let alone the capacity to understand what was what. Suddenly joy became anguish, pleasure turned quickly into pain, and grief was the only thing that remained.

You were a walking corpse. Just waiting for your final chapter to come to a close.

“I’ll check the kitchen,” you muttered, tearing yourself away from the spot you were rooted to.

Even your footsteps sounded dead—mimicking the way the numbness continued to spread like a virus through your entire body. Tearing you to pieces one more time; reminding you of what you lost. What you could never get back.

“Any food?” he asked, thankfully moving on from your moment of grieving a woman you didn’t know in a house you’d never see again.

The cabinets opened with a creak, showing nothing but moldy remains of food that was past the point of disintegrating. You knew the chances of finding a meal were slim. Yet the reality of it slammed into you all at once—reminding you of the shit Joel and you went through to get here. To find another place that was already picked clean by others or left to rot—left to the hands of nature.

You exhaled slowly, trying to keep yourself from losing it entirely. “I’m tired of fighting,” you said more to yourself than him, but you knew he heard.

He stepped closer, as if unsure of what to do. “If you don’t fight. You die.”

Scoffing, you slammed the kitchen cabinet and headed to the dusty old couch. “Tell me how that’s better Joel?”

He paused. “It’s not better.”

“I know we have to keep going. I didn’t go through all that shit not to survive, but…sometimes it doesn’t feel worth it.” You were feeling sorry for yourself when you shouldn’t—unable to stop the flurry of emotions that ate at you from the inside out.

You knew that Joel probably went through worse than you in his life, but your memories were playing on a loop in your head. The understanding that your life fell apart in a span of days, even minutes the second you entered your old home, now returning. Simply seeing the woman in the closet shoved everything you’d been fighting to keep at bay, to the forefront of your mind. Forcing you to endure it all over again.

Taking in a breath, you tried to stave off the pain, tried to force the grief back into the far crevices of your mind. “I miss them,” you breathed, staring at your hands, in the hopes that tracing the lines of your palms would bring you back to life.

Joel sat beside you, a muffled groan reverberating from his chest as he finally let his limbs relax into the crappy piece of furniture. He didn’t ask you to continue, didn’t ask you any questions. None of that mattered. All you cared about was that he understood. He knew the pain—probably better than you—knew how to fight against it day in and day out. The grief, the memories, they were his reality just as they were yours, and for a moment you forgot.

You forgot about your past, the impending doom of your future. You were just you again, because Joel took you as you were. Scars and all.

Sighing, you stared at the small living room. At the broken television that sat on a table, pressed up against the wall. You took in all that came before, the beauty of its emptiness, and relished in it. This house wasn’t perfect (far from it) but it had been a home before. They were all homes. You wondered if it could be a home again and perhaps you would be the one to make it so.

The silence of the outside world filled the hollow spaces in between, covering you and Joel like a blanket. He didn’t know how to comfort someone anymore; the ability lost to his past. But to you, this was all you needed. Someone who knew enough about your pain to sit in silence with, until the memories finally came to an end, and you felt like a person again. Laying your head on his shoulder, you let out a shaky breath as time passed—giving you the choice to either keep fighting, or remain there to rot with the rest of the house.

“Why don’t we just stay here?” you asked, staring at the small patch of sunlight on the floor. “Live out the rest of our lives?”

If you had looked up, you would have caught his lips pulling up into a grin that was barely there. “What would we do?”

You shrugged, exhaling as you allowed your eyes to slip closed. “Save ourselves,” you joked.

“I’m beyond saving at this point, Boston.” His head leaned against the back of the couch, his eyes closed as he rested until it was time to move on. Realistically the both of you could sleep here for the night, but he saw the way you reacted in the bedroom. The familiar haunted look in your eyes that matched his perfectly.

“No you’re not,” you whispered, hand moving to rest over his that rested on his leg. “You’re just like me Joel.”

Without hesitation, he gripped your hand in his, clasping his fingers around your palm—encasing your cold skin in his warmth. “How so?”

“We’re both too stubborn for our own good. If you were beyond saving, you would have given up fighting a long time ago.”

Clutching your hand tighter, he tried to ignore the way your words struck him directly in his chest. They penetrated his heart that had given up the night he held his daughter in his arms—broke through the armor he wore to keep himself safe. You were right. He would have given up fighting, and at times he contemplated whether he should. But the streak of a fighter ran deep in his body, embedded in his DNA from day one.

Joel didn’t like that you could see him. That every time he looked at you, he saw himself like a damn reflection in a mirror. But he found that no matter how hard he tried…he couldn’t look away. He saw the broken pieces he thought he lost inside of you—and there you were, offering them up without even realizing it.

Letting out a breath, he felt a shudder run down his spine as your breathing grew deeper. It didn’t take much for you to fall asleep, and rather than shake you awake to keep going, Joel let you stay. Pressed up against his side, your hand still in his. Without thinking, he turned his face, allowing his lips to brush against your forehead in a soft kiss.

If he was the man from ten years ago, he’d have allowed himself to fall in love with you. He would have taken you out, given you everything he once wanted out of a relationship, and eventually…he’d ask you to be his. But Joel was no longer that man. He couldn’t even recognize that person in his memories.

Staring down at your hand, he brushed his thumb along your palm, feeling the same skin he wondered about the first time he found you. Were you as soft as you looked? Would your hands heal him if you were finally to give him the craving of touch he’d gone without for so long?

Joel killed the soft parts of himself years ago. He called it survival. But your touch somehow brought it back to life.

Your touch brought him back to life.

Mumbling, you turned away from him slightly, and he shifted, helping you lay down on the couch. He could give you a few hours of sleep before the both of you had to continue, and if he was being honest with himself, he could use the extra time to rest as well. His back was still killing him from the previous stunt of running from those fucking infected days ago. Getting up, he stifled the groan of discomfort he felt so as not to wake you up.

He grabbed his flashlight, already knowing that the kitchen was empty of anything either of you could eat. But he was taking a page out of your book and looking through a house that had once been called a home. He entered what he assumed was the master bedroom; the walls were mangled, mold practically growing up from the floorboards. Joel nearly moved on entirely, but then he saw it. The small brown box that sat on a vanity with a broken mirror.

Carefully, he lifted the lid, expecting to find dead bugs inside. Only to see a small gold necklace placed in the center. It was the first time he had seen a piece of jewelry since the outbreak first began; people usually opted to leave things like this behind if they traveled elsewhere. He picked it up, seeing the small teardrop shaped green jewel in the center glint beneath the light of his flashlight. If it survived this long then it must mean it was the real thing.

Without thinking twice about it, he stuffed it in his front shirt pocket—leaving the room to see you still curled up on the couch. He felt his heart twist at the sight. Although he’d probably never find it in himself to say it out loud. He thought you were beautiful.

Laying his larger leather jacket over you, he sat in the extra old chair beside the couch—content to get a few hours in himself. Eventually morning would come, time would go on, and you would have to forget the girl from before, settling back into the woman you were now. You’d have to say goodbye to the small imaginings you’d formed in your head, and continue traveling through the valley of despair.

[jasminegazer]

Chapter 8 Part 1

This would have been a perfect night.

Higher temperature with a cool breeze just light enough to be almost nonexistent. Jumbotrons from Time Square lighting the horizon as the usual chorus of the city blared.

This would have been one of those nights before the big battle that they would dream about. Where it would perfect to sit atop the rooftops and have a peaceful freedom filled night. Just 4 brothers and an amazing night.

“Dee you good?”

Raph’s call broke Donnie from his thoughts. Right. Find your brother then daydream.

“Yeah coming.”

Swiftly swinging to the Leo and Raph, Donnie remembered to put his thoughts together. Making a wall between emotions and the needed actions. Preventing one side from interfering with the other nice and orderly. Manageable. Controllable.

Oh who was he kidding? Nothing was in his control right now. It did anything but remain in control last night. And in every moment since then.

Focus

No need to have more worried faces resurface unless absolutely necessary.

Despite the conditions, an uneasy awkwardness had settled on the rooftop. Leo twitched his leg nervously(a bad stimming habit of his) as he looked down to the docks. Raph was completely silent, which brought both relief and concern to Donnie, as he watched his twin.

Donnie proceeded to move behind them, both an attempt to look at the docks below and push his lingering anxieties of strangers reappearing to attack to the side. The dock seemed to be clear. Nothing looked out of the ordinary or suggestive to their missing brother. What if this was just an empty lead? What if they were wasting another night looking in the wrong places?

He heard Leo bring up that TCRI may be involved. What if Mikey was already wherever they had retreated to?

…

What if he was hooked up to the machine?

Out of all of them, out of any of them, Mikey got the biggest dose of torment. So much so that he had to live off an IV for 48 hours and even then was insisted on staying at the hospital an extra night. When the adrenaline wore off he straight up passed out without so much as a weak call for Donnie. Thank God for the kindness that humans show to celebrities like they’d become.

After that night was the first time Mikey ever had sensory issues that hurt him. Before it was just the usual ‘this feels kinda weird’ or ‘I’m absolutely obsessed with this slime. Just feel it.’. He and Leo were the ones with that burden. Overstimulation and hypersensitivity were their crosses to carry. For three weeks anything that merely brushed up against the holes in Mikey’s shell caused him to completely breakdown. Yelps and inconsolable cries of pain that rang out.

Donnie knew how much Mikey loved to be comforted through his shell. And now he was barely capable of letting someone hug him. A Hug. And this is his brother Micheal-fricking-Angelo we’re talking about.

…

If all of that stress and pain could come from something that couldn’t have gone on for more than 3 hours of torture with his family to guide him through it, then what would more than 24 hours alone and tortured do?

He wouldn’t let that happen. Over his cold dead body. Donnie couldn’t let that happen.

“Hey! Hey Leo. Earth to Leo!” Leo turned to face them, his Batman face was on. But it didn’t take a genius to understand now was not the time for teasing. It didn’t have the usual goofy look anyway, just one of anxiety and nerves at their breaking point. “Sorry it’s just…confusing.”

“What is there to be confused about? There’s nothing there.” At least was being his usual self minus the heavy bags under his eyes.

Damn why did they take their surprise day off from school for granted. Donnies limbs felt like stale jello, dried out, stiff, and good for absolutely nothing.

But as angry as Don was with his oldest brother, he had a point. The news had made a pretty big deal about this attack. With dramatized descriptions of blood and gore at the scene of the crime. So where were the people. The only thing you could tell from the dock was that these “attackers” were pretty experienced. Like serial killer level of experience. No blood stains. No foot prints. No possible weapons. Nothing. Not even a sign that this wasn’t just a normal night at the docks.

That being said something felt wrong. What exactly Don had no idea but maybe-

Something reflected off of his glasses. Like a fork… or a metal blade.

His brothers must have seen it too because now they were all in fighting stance. Someone was here. And something told him that they weren’t here to chat.

Donnie twisted his bo staff nervously in his hands. Waiting for the attack to come. He and his brothers had been taught how to fight since they were 4. The first lesson in war is never let your enemy know your moves.

For few minutes nothing happened. Dread started to fade from the atmosphere. Don started to lower his weapon to let out a sigh of relief. Worst mistake of his life.

The guy came out of nowhere and kicked firmly in the abdomen. Away from his brothers. Away from his safety.

“Dee!”

Raph started to run over before being firmly knocked to the ground by another stranger. They both wore dark clothes and oni masks. Their masks covered their whole face with glowing markings and eyes that sheened against the dark night.

Leo barely caught the blades of a third stranger with his katana.

But right now Don had other things to worry about as his attacker pounced on top off him. Somehow he managed to use his bo to block them. Woah they’re strong. His muscles strained under the weight as he pushed back against them. Aaaaannd his glasses were slipping too. GREAT!

Somehow he managed to catch a glimpse of Leo’s attacker. She(Don didn’t usually assume gender but she looked like a she) had a similar color palette to her colleagues. Her initial mask only covered half of her face leaving her amber eyes exposed. Her dark hair highlighted with white was held up in a ponytail with two long pieces hanging down from behind her ears.

AH! RIGHT! RIGHT! STILL FIGHTING!

Donnie was starting to loose his grip and his patience. Using all his strength he gripped his bo and swung it and his attacker to the ground. Hopefully that will keep this bastard down for a while.

Turning to face his brothers, he saw that Leo was still locked in a one on one with Amber eyes. Raph had managed to get back up and start wrestling with his attackers. He started to head over to help his brother in red, their eyes meet for one moment before-“Donnie! Watch out !”

Leo came plunging into his plastron sending them both to the ground. Where he JUST GOT UP! Not again!

Raph was there when Don readjusted his glasses(his CRACKED glasses). Suddenly more attackers showed up looking almost identical to Don’s and Raph’s. Amber eyes stuck out like a sore thumb. Or at least she would have if she didn’t look so intertwined with the others.

Raph helped Don get to his feet quickly right before the fighting started again. It went on for a while like the fights they had when looking for Superfly but with much more skill and obvious challenge.

These guys kept coming one after the other. But the tensions started to die down. They were becoming easier and easier to knock back. Almost like-

like they were stalling.

Donnie looked up to find his brothers but only saw Raph. “RAPH! Where’s-”

Leo cried out before he could finish.

They both turned their heads to see him locked in between two of their attackers. They’d plunged the same device in the same spot as last night into Leo. Donnie’s breath hitched. No no no no no NO

“LEO!” Raph started rushing over to his twin bashing in the heads of anyone blocking his path. Donnie followed his lead as he watched Leo loose consciousness, eyelids slowly sliding closed.

His big brother was looking right at him. Silently pleading for help like Donnie had done to him countless times. His whole life he had looked up to Leo for help. And every time his brother came through. But for once in his life he couldn’t do the same for him.

Someone threw a smoke bomb where Leo was standing and just like that he was gone. Donnie’s big brother was gone. He lost two brothers within 24 hours. “NOOOO!”

They weren’t dead yet. There was still a chance to fix this.

Without a single clear thought in his mind, violent thrashes escaped from him. He could only keep pushing forward. He needed to get to his eldest brother. He COULDNT lose him too.

A yell tore through the air and Raphs throat. He was knocked onto his stomach curled over and jolting at every movement that affected his shell.

He’d been hurt by the machine too. Even if it was only for like 5 minutes it still affected Donnie’s brother in red. Unlike Mikey, Raph barely managed to try and cover it up for almost 2 weeks. They knew he was sensitive about feeling vulnerable but this was why he needed to tell people. So he could have someone to-literally-watch his back.

“RA-ack.” Someone hit Donnie on the back of the head right down infront of his only remaining brother. He was on his hands and knees. His head was swimming like a drunken man. During the whole car chase with Superfly, when they were driven off the highway, he landed on his head. This gave him some of the worst amount of pain a person like him could experience- a concussion. Of course he still wasn’t used to normal blows after a whole ass month of healing.

Shock filled his body and suddenly-

He couldn’t breath.

Panic and fear and memories swirling through his pounding head was making him lose control. He COULDNT not be in control. He needed control so he could fix this. Fix problems. Fix wounds. Fix himself. Fix fricking EVERYTHING.

Donnie crawled quickly to Raph ignoring the few remaining attackers leaving. His throat was burning. Through the blurs and cracks in his vision he shook Raph hurriedly. A loud yell echoed in his broken mind.

Donnie heard the horrifying shing of a blade being unsheathed. He turned to see Amber Eyes stand above him and Raph with her weapon raised to her waist.

Donnie cowered next Raph like a little kid. Like when he was a little kid and used to fear the dark and the same brother told him to man up. Like when TCRI was in the process of abducting them and he had already watched them knock out his other brothers.

Raph held a hand on his shoulder and Donnie curled over to it was the blade was raised to her head.

He clung to Raph’s hand as he waited for the blade

🎶Oops! I did it again!🎶

Yeah but no I’m serious. Oops sorry for the long wait (again) but man I have not been motivated to write this at all until like June apparently. Hope y’all like the cliffhanger. Cowabunga turtle fanz!

Previous Masterpost Next

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Dancing 'til the break of dawn - Pt8

<Pt7

(TWST zombie apocalypse au for all your crack-fic needs)

It was hard to tell who was the least amused by their current situation. Ace, who was stuck in a radio tower until Yuu was in good enough condition to safely travel again, with the guy who had shot Yuu, whom he was currently forbidden from stabbing? Deuce, who really wanted to use the radio tower to try and contact the outside world but didn’t want to risk being impolite to Yuu by showing he had other priorities? Grim, a monster who wanted to know for sure whether Yuu was as okay as he claimed? Cater, who now had to deal with way more zombies, crowding around the outside of the building, surrounding them, trying their damndest to figure out how window locks and doorknobs worked?

Well, the obvious answer was Yuu, who had been fucking shot.

No, he was not going to get over that anytime soon, thank you very much. Mostly because the day after he had gotten shot it rained, and he learned very abruptly that injuries hurt approximately ten times worse during rainy days because – like – God or something. Who knows. All he knows is that it sucked.

Not as much as shirts, though.

Shirts were made by the oppressive class, Yuu had decided. He glowered at Ace when the boy tried to hand him a clean one. He laid back, spreading out on the floor. He had learned his lesson earlier that day. If he were to sit up, Ace and Deuce would tag team him to get a shirt over his head.

He had no real excuse not to use it, since the towels they had taken from the store to be used as bandages were finding good use, and would (mostly) keep the shirt from being dirtied. But also. Ow. He’d rather just die. It certainly felt like dying, when he attempted to force his arm through the holes, might as well finish the job.

“Yuu, it’s indecent,” Deuce reminded him.

“Your face is indecent,” Yuu sulked.

“Oooooh, good one,” said Ace, sarcastically.

Yuu sulked harder. If there were a teacher around who could grade people’s sulking abilities, he’d get extra credit.

“It is a good one, Yuu-chan,” Cater lied through his teeth. “Are you feeling better?”

Yuu was briefly distracted from his hatred of shirts, giving Cater a flat look. First of all, he didn’t need to be patronized. He could, probably, forgive shooting him. He had forgiven Ace for attempting to kill him, after all. Being a condescending dick, however, he would never let go. Second of all, it seemed like Cater was doing this in hopes that, if Yuu was feeling better, they would get out of his hair.

As if they wanted to be there.

Yuu stared down Cater for a solid half a minute. And then he pushed himself up to try and stand.

If Ace hadn’t been next to him, or if he’d had slower reflexes, then Yuu’s knees buckling would have been much more of a problem. As it was, he was saved before he could make things worse by giving himself a concussion, too.

Gotta love blood loss-induced anemia. It was really good for proving points. Also for scaring his friends into forgetting that he needed a shirt.

~

“We have guests today,” Cater said into the microphone, undeniably peppier than they were used to him being.

But, then again, this was the guy who complained about not being able to sleep because people were screaming, in the cheeriest tone of voice Yuu had ever heard. Clearly, the guy just had a few screws loose.

So, it wasn’t that hard for them to go along with it, despite the change in demeanor:

“Nice to meet you, listeners, I’m Deuce Spade,” said Deuce.

“Listeners is probably a little generous,” Ace sneered. He was not taking kindly to Yuu telling him that he was not allowed to commit murder. “Hello, listener – if you even exist – I’m Ace Trappola.”

Cater sent Ace an unimpressed look.

“Ironic, coming from the guys who only came here because they heard my broadcast!”

Ace’s nose scrunched up. He did not, it seemed, appreciate the logic being presented to him. Or maybe it was because the cheerful voice now felt slightly condescending.

Deuce sighed. A finger poked Yuu in the side.

Yuu blinked, tiredly, his head starting to lift from where he’d been leaning on Deuce’s shoulder, before he thought better of it. He’d been more or less able to think clearly after a day, but that didn’t change the fact that healing up was tiring. Stupid… homo… goblins…? Whatever Cater said, he hated them.

Another poke in the side, this time more insistent.

He shifted just enough to mumble that his name was “Yuu”. He wasn’t sure whether the microphone managed to catch it, but that sounded like the audience’s problem.

But probably not the audience’s main problem, because he would argue that the audience’s nonexistence was probably far more concerning to them. They should probably solve that first before they bothered trying to figure out his name.

A bottle of coconut water was handed to him. Yuu’s expression soured. He took a reluctant sip. Agh. Health. He’d had a vegetable, like, three weeks ago. It had been a novelty then. Now he was just suffering. He could feel his carefully curated stomach acids churn, unsure what to do about the new threat in their midst.

“It helps with blood loss,” said Cater, looking much more tired than his voice suggested.

Yuu shook his head. “Doesn’t.”

“That’s… not how that works! :D!”

Yuu scowled. He was going back to sleep. At least he was always right in his dreams.

Wait did Cater just say ‘:D’ aloud what the fuck –?!

~

Yuu ate a lot of cereal, vitamin C tablets, and coconut water. It was a diet geared towards making sure that his blood loss was treated as soon as possible. And towards curbing the nausea that had made it its life’s mission to make him throw up (he had not thrown up since second grade, he was not going to let the stomach acids win).

By day 5, he was starting to wonder if cannibalism really was that bad. Like, sure, morals, but also… at least it tasted better.

When he told Ace this, the boy lit up.

Cater retaliated by dumping the coconut water into his cereal. Because Yuu was ‘having a hard time with it’ and ‘it might be faster to combine the two’.

It was not, in fact, faster, because Yuu had to choke down every bite.

But he sure as hell stopped complaining about it, so Cater didn’t seem to care.

~

“So, is this guy just – like – a zombie magnet or something?” Cater finally broke. The zombies had managed to find their way up to the roof. He did not seem to appreciate this.

“Yes,” said Deuce.

“Pretty much zombie catnip,” said Ace. He must have thought he was hilarious.

Yuu decided to ignore him. “Hey, if anything they usually avoid me because they don’t want to risk biting me! I’m, like… an anti-magnet!”

“... you are still describing a magnet,” said Cater. “Just the opposite pole.”

Yuu did not like Cater. The list of people he was ignoring was growing by the second. Deuce, don’t mess this up.

He wanted to cross his arms over his chest but his bullet wound would not appreciate this.

Well, he didn’t appreciate it, either, but he didn’t complain nearly as much as it did.

Do not scroll up and see all of the times he had complained, it is not relevant to the case, your honor.

He settled for leaning against Ace. At least he could ensure that other people were annoyed, too.

Ace glared at him, but made no moves to push him off. Yuu wasn’t sure whether to laugh over his injury privileges or be upset that Ace wasn’t reacting.

In fact, Ace was quick to let his attention stray from him entirely, up to the banging sounds coming from the roof. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many zombies before.”

“They’d probably go away if we sent Yuu out to confirm he’s okay,” Deuce said. “But… I don’t know. I’m not sure we should do that.”

Yuu blinked. Deuce had never really expressed this kind of wariness about the zombies. He’d never looked… scared like that. Not for Yuu, anyway.

Deuce started to bite one of his nails, only to stop with a grimace and shove it back into his pockets. Ah, the apocalypse, breaking bad habits since March of 2020.

“It’s just… how much of a hivemind are they?”

The other three boys were just confused.

Cater was the most confused out of all of them, as he was not in the loop: “They’re a hivemind? They have minds – er… a mind?”

But they ignored him.

Yuu frowned. “They have to be a hivemind. If they don’t have a collective consciousness then I would have to deal with zombies trying to kill me just like the rest of you plebs – people, I said people.”

Thankfully, they were all too concerned with what was going on to retaliate at the moment.

“And we know that Grim’s own desires affect what the zombies do,” Ace reminded Deuce, so confused that he had even forgotten to be condescending. “All of the female zombies steer clear for whatever reason. Some of the zombies try to talk to him, some follow him to keep him safe.”

Deuce pointed at him like Ace had just proven his point by accident. “Some of the zombies try to talk to him, some follow him to keep him safe. But why not all of them? The other day, when we saw that group of zombies, only one of them waved at Yuu. Why?”

“... redundancy?” Yuu offered.

Deuce didn’t seem to hear him. “And you mentioned a fan club, didn’t you?”

Yuu nodded, slowly.

“Do the members swap out?”

He shook his head. There was a core group of three members that had been steadily added to overtime. Now, he was pretty sure he was approaching ten consistent stalkers.

That he knew of…

He shook his head again, harder, to clear it, and focused instead on Deuce, who was grinning widely.

“Those few zombies are forgoing eating in order to follow you around as much as possible. But swapping out every few hours would make more sense, right? Which suggests there is a personality element to it. That those ones are particularly obsessive. Probably because they were obsessive during their original lives, too.”

Yuu had never really thought about it. He was… a little embarrassed, a little jealous. He had spent months on end with Grim, he should have noticed this. And Deuce wasn’t even all that smart! When he finally spoke, it was to petulantly grumble, “So what? What does it matter if they keep a bit of their original personalities?”

Deuce’s amusement faded. He hugged himself uncomfortably. “Well… obviously, Grim is… very attached to you. And that means all of the zombies like you a lot. Which is fine, for the most part – helpful. Most people won’t take it too far, because most people aren’t, like, evil. But what about the ones that are?”

The room went deadly silent.

“You think that there are probably ex-serial killers that are obsessed with him,” Ace summed up, his face pale.

“Hypocrite,” Yuu murmured, but his heart wasn’t really in it.

He liked to consider himself largely untouchable, especially nowadays, because he also had Ace and Deuce to help him where Grim fell short.

But, if Deuce was right, and Grim didn’t just immediately know and have any zombies with ill-intent dispatched…

“If we pushed Yuu out into that crowd… well, statistically, one of them might show their obsession in a... less nice way,” Cater finally caught on. Yuu might have commended him for being able to piece things together as quickly as he had, but that was hardly what he was concentrating on.

Yuu, slowly, pressed his face into his hands. “None of us can leave.”

~

“Can we use this radio tower to try and get help from other countries?” Deuce asked, as polite as he possibly could be.

Ace and Yuu’s eyes widened. They had mostly forgotten about that particular, unfortunate plot point. They hadn’t yet figured out a way to stop that. No explanation that wouldn’t devastate Deuce, no way to ‘casually’ mess up all of the settings on the radio tower in a way that would alleviate suspicion. Yuu had thought of making Grim do it, blaming ‘cat instincts’ for him needing to mess with cables, but Grim wasn’t allowed inside.

But it was then, as they watched Cater for his response, their minds racing, that they noticed something:

Cater’s smile had wavered.

Ace and Yuu realized, abruptly, that Cater knew it was a bad idea, too.

Immediately, their expressions shifted from mildly panicked to hopeful. They didn’t even have to fake it, though they were certainly faking the reason for it.

Unfortunately for them, Cater knew that there was no way all three of them were that stupid. He eyed Ace and Yuu suspiciously.

“You are not pinning this on me,” he said.

Yuu had been expecting it, but he still winced.

Deuce’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Pinning what on him –?”

They were interrupted by a loud banging sound, far closer than anything they’d heard over the past few days.

The vent cover popped off, and out spilled a zombie, curled in a tight ball.

Around Grim.

Yuu gasped and rushed to scoop up Grim, hugging his baby to his chest. His baby his baby his baby!

(He ignored Ace, Deuce, and Cater, who were busy dispatching the zombie with ruthless efficiency. Fire was the only way to kill a zombie, as they regenerated seemingly without end, but you could still make it very hard for it to chase you. Slice a few tendons, break a couple of joints, put a gun in its mouth and get rid of its only weapon… well, three-on-one was hardly a fair fight, especially when the zombie wasn’t even bothering to fight back.)

He pressed kisses to his darling’s furry little head. He realized, with an odd sense of pride, that Grim’s second eye was beginning to grow back. Yuu cooed.

Grim, for his part, just curled up in his arms, purring, his tail snaking its way around his bicep as if to hold him, too.

He thought, dully, that he might just cry at the sight.

Because it was cute.

Don’t pay attention to Ace’s disgust and Deuce’s poorly-hidden wariness, who cares about them?

Not Yuu, not when Grim was there.

But he did lift his head when Cater gave a pained cry, more out of curiosity than anything.

The vent had been right over the control panel for the radio station. And, when the zombies had come crashing inside, they had smashed into the controls.

Yuu pressed his face back into Grim’s fur to hide his laughter.

Looks like Grim really had messed up the wires for him, after all.

~~~~~

Pt9>

[oldflyingraven]

Fic masterlist

Critical Role

Guilt Like Poison After Grog's death at the hands of Craven Edge Percy deals with some heavy guilt.

(Not So) Smiley Day to You Ashton's head is hurting. That's not so out of the ordinary. His plans to have fun with Fearne would be a lot more enjoyable if it could stop hurting so bad however. There's no possible way that trying to rob people while suffering from a chronic migraine could go wrong, right?

Aftermaths (We’re in this Together) Ashton almost dies for the first time since joining the new group. The aftermath is not particularly pleasant. Featuring Ashton bonding with Imogen.

Critical Role Febuwhump 2022 Critical Role Febuwhump 2022 prompt fills! 28 chapters of angst, hurt and sometimes comfort. Campaign 1, 2, EXU and 3 are all featured in here, so there's probably a story for everyone!

The Ghost of You “You haven’t been back in a while,” he said quietly. Will stared back at him. His blank eyes as unseeing as they’d been for six years. Moments between a man and the ghost of his past.

Dream SMP

Revenge From the Eyes Of a King The day of the final conflict against Dream is here. And Eret is fighting against him. This is the story of how Eret felt during the final conflict.

A King and his Redemption A dethroned and sick Eret joins the Pogtopia rebellion, desperate for redemption. Wearily, they allow him to join. This is the story of the start of the redemption Eret really just deserved.

It's Never Quite As Easy As Planned An ex traitor and his enemy have to travel together, alone. What could possibly go wrong? Turns out, a lot can when you run into a group of pillagers on the way to the village. Or: Wilbur and Eret need to go to a village to trade for supplies. Eret gets hurt and doesn't tell Wilbur. There is no way this ends well.

Bonds forged in snow Tommy moved to Snowchester after the final battle. Eret promised to come by and visit sometimes. Today is that day.

Bruised Knuckles and Slowly Healing His knuckles were bleeding again. He hadn’t even punched a wall this time. Instead he had hit his throne over and over until he felt the skin break and bruise. But it was okay, it was just this once (or twice, or thrice…) Bad habits are hard to break, but with some time and help, maybe Eret can break one of his. Of course, it helps that the one who indirectly caused them is locked up.

Warm hearts (I’ll be there when you need me) Fundy was laying on the floor, scarily still. The only way you could still see he was alive was if you focused very intensely on his chest. It was still slowly rising and falling. The fact he wasn’t shivering was the scariest part. Eret immediately picked him up and ran inside. “PUFFY! GET SOME BLANKETS! QUICKLY!” he shouted, running past Niki and Puffy and laying Fundy down on one of the couches closer to the fireplace. He had no idea how Fundy had ended up like this, but all that mattered right now was getting him warm before he froze to death.Eret finds Fundy collapsed in his doorway. AKA: Eret takes care of Fundy and starts to become the father figure Fundy needs in his life.

The Return of a King Eret’s eyes hardened, although that was hard to see behind his sunglasses. “I will only consider retaking my position as king if I’m promised full autonomy. That means no guidance, no interference, no help. Nothing. If this request is not granted you can take your kingship and shove it somewhere unpleasant.” he bravely said. His hands were shaking, and he balled them into fists to hide it. Dream seemed to sour for a second, and Eret could imagine him pulling a sour face behind his mask. “I’m willing to… consider your request. Conditions would apply. Make your decision by tomorrow.” Dream offers Eret his kingship back. Eret struggles with the memories of the last time he was king and tries to make his decision. Luckily, he has his friends to help him.

Hold me Tight, Protect me from the Memories It's Eret's first night back in his castle after being recrowned king. But being back in a place which held so much trauma in the past is not the best thing for your mental health, and Eret and Puffy find out about this.

The Return of a Villain (And Dealing With It) When they opened the door they saw the sight of the platonic husbands. And their child. Michael was fast asleep in Ranboo’s arms, cuddling a plush chicken and looking very content. The two older teens in contrast looked as tense as a bowstring. “Is Tommy here?” Tubbo asked. His voice was rough, as if he’d screamed a lot and was losing his voice. Eret nodded. “He’s here yeah. So is Fundy. Please, come in. Do you want me to prepare a room for Michael? I have the space and the kid looks like he really needs to be in bed." Wilbur has returned. And now Eret has a group of very scared teenagers in front of his castle. And he'll try his best to help them. Even if he himself is terrified.

Playground Wars “What are you guys making here?” Dream asked Wilbur, who looked up from his wall construction. “We are making a country! And it’s for europeans only.” he said. Dream frowned. “We all live in Europe dumbass.” he said. Wilbur couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. “Native europeans then. This is L’Manburg and it’s our country.” he said, pointing at Eret, Tommy, Tubbo and Fundy. “You’re all part of the DreamSMP, you can’t be independent.” Sapnap said. “Yes we can! Tell them Wilbur!” Tommy yelled from behind. “We declare independence from the DreamSMP!” Wilbur declared. Tommy and his friends start playing a story on the playground about a land called the DreamSMP. Drama will unfold, fun will be had. This is the story of a bunch of kids on the playground having fun.

Broken Binder (Oh, How it Hurts) His binder was broken. His binder was broken and he didn’t know how to fix it this time. Fundy stared at the ripped seams on the damn thing as it layed broken on the floor. Wilbur had given him the binder when he first came out. Fundy breaks his binder. Luckily, Eret knows how to make new ones.

Learning About and Slowly Remembering Your Past Foolish’s face lit up. “I keep being surprised by how little you’ve changed Wither.” he said. “Glad to hear Totem.” Eret responded automatically. Foolish was taken aback by the very old nickname Eret had just called him. “What did you- how? You said you didn't-?” he sputtered out, confused. Eret himself was taken aback by the nickname that had just slipped out of him. He sighed. “Actually, that is something I meant to discuss with you. Let’s sit down first.” he said. --- Eret has been getting flashes about his past recently. He decides to finally talk about it with Foolish.

One Day My Past Will Become My Own Again (I hope) “I have to say Eret. I was surprised by your invitation. Considering that our paths don’t overlap often.” Phil said. Eret cleared their throat again before speaking. “Yeah. I uh, I actually wanted to discuss some things with you both.” Techno raised one eyebrow, and Eret realised he might get the wrong idea. “It has nothing to do with alliances or governments or stuff like that. It’s about, wel, I recently started getting flashes of my memory back.” Phil stiffened at that, and Techno gave him a questioning glance. “We’ve known each other way longer than just the time we’ve been on this server, am I right?” Eret, Foolish, Technoblade and Philza discuss their shared history as immortal demigods.

Eret's (Unofficial) Kids And How He Got Them It started with Fundy. Then Tommy. And after Tommy it was only a matter of time before Tubbo and Ranboo were brought into the fold. Eret accidentally adopts Fundy, Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo. None of them are mad about it.

Without you my Wings are Clipped "When he spoke the last words the feather poofed away. In its place was now only a bit of smoke and silence. Phil tried reaching out, tried feeling if the message was received. But he only felt the same emptiness he’d felt since he’d arrived in the DreamSMP." When Phil came to the DreamSMP he immediately felt it. He could no longer contact Kristin. His goddess. The goddess of death. And after over a thousand years of being connected to her, this hurt like hell.

Memories of a Time Long Gone By “The deal is simple. You protect me, I protect you. Deal?” the golden man in front of them held out his hand. Alastair, or Eret, as they’d taken to calling themselves took it. “Deal.” they said. Eret had a life before the DreamSMP, even before SMPEarth. A long life. These are snapshots of his life before he lost it all.

5 Times People Thought Eret and Foolish were Dating + 1 Time they Found the Name for their Relationship People seem to think Eret and Foolish are dating. Eret and Foolish are not. These are five times people thought this and the one time they finally figured out the name for what their relationship actually is.

This Poison in my Veins (it's not pleasant) "He ran his hands across the smooth stone. He’d placed it there himself. But then he ran across something he hadn’t placed there. Some of the stone had been moved and replaced. Small grooves were cut into it. They ran their hand across the grooves, and jerked back with a shock when something sharp poked into their finger." Eret gets poisoned by one of the old traps in his castle. The consequences aren't pleasant.

It's the End of the World as we Know it (and I'm not fine) Eret is visiting the UK when the apocalypse breaks out. Now, after seven days inside Wilbur's house they decide to leave with two goals in mind. 1. Make it to Tubbo's house and pick him and Ranboo up. 2. Make it to the Isle of Wright, one of the strongest safezones in the UK. George, Quackity and Niki are caught by suprise when the apocalypse starts. Caught in the middle of London, they attempt to make their way to the only safezone they know of. The Isle of Wright.

The World is our Playground, and we Have the Power(s) “We should make up a new game.” Tommy continued in his whiny voice. The suggestion sparked something in Wilbur. He sat up. “I might have an idea.” he said. Tommy’s eyes lit up. “Really?!” he asked excitedly. Wilbur nodded. “Yeah. Remember when Tubbo said something about playing superheroes? Something like that.” After the unfortunate end of the DreamSMP the gang decides to play another game. This time they will be hybrids with superpowers. Of course, this game doesn't go as smoothly as expected either. Sequal to Playground Wars!

Crossed Wires Eret. Eret was standing in front of him. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. That wasn’t so unusual. She usually kept them concealed when she wasn’t around Phil, Kristin or Totem. What was unusual was the fact that she’d was here, as she’d been missing for twenty years. He still remembered the day Totem told him that Eret had gone missing. The helplessness, the anxiety, it all came back to him in a flash. A leader of an empire meets a man without his memories. The problem is that Phil has known Eret for over a thousand years. Why does Eret not recognise him?

Eret and his Path to Redemption Drabbles A bunch of drabbles/ficlets for my Eret and his Path to Redemption AU! Some of these might be turned into bigger stories later but most are just short stories following Eret and his path to redeeming himself.

Hermitcraft

How do you sleep at night? (seriously, how is that comfortable?) PearlescentMoon: Scar is asleep on top of the Boatem pole? PearlescentMoon: [BoatemScar.png] MumboJumbo: Huh MumboJumbo: I thought Grian would be the first to do that Grian: I would be offended but honestly yeah I’d expect that of me too The hermits have a tendency to fall asleep in weird places.

You're here (you're actually here) "Grian!" Tango responded with a smile. "Who’d you fi-" The world froze. Jimmy. Jimmy was standing behind Grian. Tango and Jimmy reunite on Empires.

Hearts on fire Tango stared at the smouldering ruins of the ranch and tried to hold back the tears that were forming. The embers of his fiery rage were still burning in his chest but were slowly being overtaken by a deep sadness. He’d worked so damn hard on that ranch. It hadn’t been the best building he’d ever made, far from it. But it was a thing that he and Jimmy shared. Sometimes it takes your ranch burning down for you to realise your feelings for your soulmate

Hermitcraft Whumptober 2022 I'm doing Hermitcraft Whumptober 2022! 31 days of whump, angst, hurt and comfort. There's probably something here that you'll like!

Processing (we made it) Ex exhaled. “We made it,” he said softly. He moved his hand over to a different console and pressed a button. “Attention all. We have safely crossed the barrier between the world and the void. We are now floating in the void,” he announced. His voice was amplified and projected through the speaker system. Then, he walked away from the intercom and turned his back to the console. “Fuck,” he whispered. Scenes on the Hermetheus as the hermits process their hasty escape from season 8.

A Watcher's Escape This was it. His last chance at escape. If the Watcher behind him caught up to him he was done for. His legs were trembling, both with exertion from running and pain. His right wing was dragging lamely over the floor. His wings. Once a beautiful combination of vibrant red, yellow and blue. Now a blinding white like so many things the Watchers touched. Well, one of his wings was turning red again, but now with his own blood. Or: How a watcher crashed into Hermitcraft and how he started recovering.

Torn Apart Instant tears started to run down his cheeks. He scrambled to grab his communicator and send Jimmy a message. Red text stared back at him. The message you tried to send couldn’t be delivered. Jimmy and Tango wake up back on their home servers, unable to contact each other.

Spooky!Lads

Vampires aren't human (and you need to remember that) How Dan stopped drinking blood and almost killed himself on accident, and how the Lads started helping him to pick up the pieces.

I'm fine, he said. I can go on, he said How Daniel fainted after barely sleeping for 2 weeks because he was a stubborn idiot who just wanted to hang out with/babysit his friends.

This is why we don't go on roadtrips The Lads plan a roadtrip and try (read: TRY) to go and have a fun and peaceful time. Of course, that doesn’t happen now does it? Kevin almost being run over, monster hunters and a dead body or two. What happened on the road trip stays on the road trip.

The Sun is a Deadly Laser The lads have a nice, chill summer day in the backyard of the mansion.Yeah right, like it's that peaceful. Arson ensues. People are not happy about it.

Blood Blues Daniel has never liked the fact that he has to drink blood. One day he decides to just... stop. His body can digest little amounts of human food, surely he can sustain himself on that? Oh how wrong he his. The story of how Dan accidentally got into real trouble from not drinking blood and how his friends had to break into a blood bank to feed him. This is a rewrite of my first Spooky!Lads story called Vampires aren't human (and you need to remember that)!

Spooky!Lads Tidbits A vampire, a werewolf, a cyborg, a ghost and a human with a lighter. What shenanigans do they get up to? Drabbles/Ficlets that fit into the Spooky!Lads universe! Get your angst, fluff and comedy all in one here :)

[universalzones]

You should give into that anger.

Those words have been echoing in her head all day since they were spoken to her, and what's worse is she knew who did it. Whisper having been out and about, getting some supplies for a stakeout when it happened. A stranger, someone she didn't get a good glimpse at or wasn't even paying any attention to, whispered this into her ear. It stunned her because there was only one person who would use those exact words. Mimic, though they were gone in the crowd before she could react.

Whisper tried her best to ignore it, drown out the mountain of thoughts building up in her head and move on with her day. Though it wasn't easy, not when she knew the reason why Mimic said those words. He was the only one who truly knows how deep her rage ran now, and how it was now tied to that monster inside her. The one trained to adapt to any environment, any situation, and any opponent to come out on top. The wolf had been conditioned to be a true killer.

Whisper had done her best, though it was starting to get too much, almost like she could feel them pounding at the door and demanding to be free. To continue the hunt for the one who hurt her so much, caused her this pain, and caused her all this anger. The wolf drowning out everything around her as she walked around the base in an attempt to clear her head. Then the voice she fights to keep repressed finally surfaced.

It was mocking her, calling her weak, questioning what she was doing, telling her to follow the training, to find Mimic, and finally end him. Whisper hated this voice because it's not who she is, not anymore. Though it disagrees, saying who she is now is a fake and that they were hiding from who they really were. The wolf continued try and ignore it, though it persists and she was starting to slip.

Whisper's fur was now standing on edge, she began looking at everyone like there were a threat under her mask, she began to keep her distance from the people she walked past, and the voice stroked this by saying anyone could be Mimic. The wolf tried harder to ignore the voice and even repress it again, though it fought back strongly.

Whisper was losing ground, her fist clenching tightly, her body tensing up, her eyes darting between every person from behind her mask, and the voice's flawed logic sounding more convincing. Had it been anyone else the wolf could bounce back, though it was Mimic which meant he was here. She was close to breaking, her eyes targeting on someone she's about to pass, going full tunnel and they would be too close. Her eyes going into tunnel vision and behind the mask she began to smile sickly.

However, just before Whisper crossed paths with the person walking by she felt a hand on her shoulder. The wolf swiftly turning as the tunnel vision got worse, though then it all seemed to just... pause. She was looking at Tangle who had the goofy smile, a bag on her left hand, and just giving off a positive aura.

"Whisper, I just came up with the COOLEST idea. I'm going to ask Belle to make a small battery with a plug so for the holidays I can wrap these Christmas lights around my tail and festival tail punch Badniks. What do you think?" Tangle asked, barely able to stay still at the thought of what she thought was a good idea while ignoring how it could go terribly wrong.

In an instant the voice swiftly died down, almost nothing more than a light nagging in her head. Whisper pulled off her mask, smiling softly at Tangle. "I think is not the safest idea." The wolf didn't wisht to see Tangle hurt after all, and that was likely having Christmas lights wrapped around her tail.

"I'm sure it'll be fine, and my tail is tough enough to withstand Badniks blowing up on it so I'm sure if something goes wrong I'll be fine. I just want to punch Badnik festive style." Tangle was sure it'd be fine. Besides, the lemur was tough and had been through worse dealing with Eggman and his bots.

Of course Tangle wasn't worried about the worse case scenario, though it only made her smile softer and the voice finally stopped. "How about festive stickers instead? Much safer, but still festive." Whisper thought it best to compromise when the lemur got like this. "We don't want Lanolin yelling at you after all."

"Dang, I completely forgot about Lanolin, and I think she's still a bit mad after my Halloween prank. Stickers it is then, though I'm getting a TON of them." Tangle best start saving up. "Then we'll use the lights for your room. I know you aren't big on holidays, though couldn't hurt, right?" The lemur asked, once more offering her goofy smile.

Whisper wanted to decline, though knew once Tangle had her mind set on something it was nearly impossible to stop her. "Alright, I'll have them up at the start of next month." The wolf watching the lemur jump in joy at this small victory before rushing off as she always tried to get her to decorate her room during the holidays.

Whisper was glad to have friends like Tangle as they made it easier to manage the voice inside her wanting to come out. The wolf would never be them, not if she could help it. Though now she was going to be on guard knowing Mimic was around. She doubts he'd be bold enough to attack her at The Restoration and was sure he was simply attempting to make her snap. With this failed attempted she was sure he'd retreat. She wasn't going to let anyone hurt her new family, especially herself.

[crimsononiarataki]

A lot of people would be shocked to see a guy his size working using a camping stove as efficiently as he was capable of. Never mind the knife he used to chop, or slice things. As an Oni nobody other than close close to him were capable of understanding that he was MORE than his size and the negative reputation he'd been given by a certain group of mortals. He was creative, helpful, and not at all hindering toward those who were genuine. Now, if they were a hinderance or a problem? He was a problem for them.

"Mmm? I mean, I don't mind, somethin' lots of folks seem to not realize is that those like myself, bein' the Yokai of Inazuma, we're viewed similarly to the Adepti of Liyue,"

They were the same classification, really, supernatural beings, though they differed from one another due to more than their general appearances, and home nations. In Liyue, the people looked at him like he was some sort of... positive appearance, where in Inazuma, there were a number of humans who would rather hurt him, or have him dead. Because he was a Crimson Oni. He was viewed as a 'cursed child' since he was the sole survivor of his people, a genocide that was caused at the hands of a certain man, though referring to him as such was a bit of a stretch from what he knew, and he'd rather NOT think of his name.

"Yeah, some humans CAN be exploitative, but ya haven't given me that impression, Myyrin. You're seekin' knowledge and what better way to learn about how I go about healin' than to try learnin' from me?"

The dish he prepared was made with root vegetables, a broth, and something that would help break the excess Electro inside her body down. It was infused with a bit of Geo, though not things such as dirt, sand, rocks, or ore made it in. He wasn't sure she could learn that particular technique, but he might be able to make her something that would help her to have a similar effect if it was needed at some point. Though, he really hoped that she didn't electrocute herself again as part of an experiment. The Kairagi would seem her prone form as an easy target and he would much rather not come back to the area only to find that having come to pass.

"I might have to get my hands on some of the spices from Sumeru at some point, maybe when I'm in the area again I can pick some up from the main city, or Port Ormos."

He'd enjoyed the bean-free dishes he'd tried while in Sumeru, the spices were subtle to him, but he wasn't human so the level was likely much more intense for some of them than it was for him. That was probably fine. Not everyone could have a Yokai's spice tolerance, he'd not really expected his own to be quite as high as it was in the first place, but then again the heat of the desert hadn't really had any effect on him. Just like the cold of winter never really bothered him. he just thought it was a thing that all Yokai could do but he could be wrong.

"I don't really eat more frequently than others do normally, but when I'm healin' I do tend to eat a bit more often. Just figured that was normal, then again back when I needed to heal up last I was... uh in pretty bad condition."

Calling the condition he'd been in back then 'pretty bad' was putting it mildly. He'd been told he was on the verge of death but he felt fine. He'd been fussed over by Shinobu, and the medical staff that Ayato had supplied, and he'd been basically confined to his bed for three months. He never wanted to deal with that kind of condition again. He'd get stir-crazy which was one of the reasons he'd taken the time to teach himself some dishes that helped with healing. He wasn't sure that Myyrin would be willing to learn his way of meditation but it also helped with his healing, and it was a means that HE used to heal as a Yokai.

"I ain't gonna let ya camp outside, I'd rather ya be inside where I know the elements ain't able to trigger a reaction in your body. The storms on this island are rough, but my cabin is insulated, ya would have access to a bed, and a full bathroom to clean yourself up and rejuvenate. I get livin' off the land, I do, but given the condition you're in I'd feel better if ya would stay inside until the Electro energy is fully expelled."

If she was going to be stubborn then he was going to have to be MORE stubborn than she was. It was fairly simple. (It was absolutely NOT). He was a Geo user, he was as stubborn as unmoving rock could be if needed, she was Hydro, and while she may be used to living off the land, with the Electro energy still coursing through her veins, he'd feel better if she was inside his cabin until she was fully recovered. Plus, Ayato's men never followed him into the area his cabin was, the thick surroundings allowed him to have privacy and safety.

"Why would ya attack me? More like why wouldn't ya attack me. I'm used to bein' targeted by mortals. Ain't sure what Ayato told ya about me, but there's some folks who... well they've called me a 'cursed child' since I was a little guy, and now that they're older men with families of their own, they still come after me."

He was more than just 'misunderstood' but Ayato didn't know the severity of the hatred those men in particular held for him, and he'd never done anything other than exist.

Myyrin watched as Itto prepared the food with surprising precision and efficiency. His movements were confident, steady and it was clear he knew what he was doing. When he mentioned Yokai having their own recovery methods, her mind immediately began whirling with possibilities. The apothecary in her couldn't resist. She shifted slightly, wincing as she adjusted her posture, her injured arm still limp at her side.

As she observed, her mind wandered through the paths of knowledge she’d already walked—the herbal wisdom of Liyue, the practical alchemy of Mondstadt, the art of cultivating healing plants in Sumeru—and now, the possibility of learning from the Yokai. She couldn’t stop herself from asking, despite knowing it might be a delicate topic.

“Itto,” she began slowly, hesitant to overstep boundaries, “you mentioned Yokai having their own techniques for recovery. Would it… would it be alright if I studied some of those practices? Not to exploit or misuse them, of course." She paused, carefully choosing her words. "I know humans can be… exploitative. I understand if you'd rather keep them to yourself. But… I’ve been documenting different methods from across the lands. Mixing practices, seeing how they interact, how they could help someone down the line. If it helps even one person heal faster, or avoid unnecessary suffering, it’d be worth all the effort.”

She fell quiet, her gaze dropping to her severely scarred hand, her journal of experiments to see what was effective and what was harmful. The uneven texture, the burned flesh—a lasting mark of both her curiosity and the risks that came with it. She flexed her fingers slightly before looking back up at him, her eyes holding a certain resolve beneath the weariness.

"I’ve learned some adeptal arts too," she admitted, her voice softening as she thought back to her time in Liyue. "Studying from notes, and even interacting with a few illuminated beasts. They’ve been... generous with their knowledge. I’m just trying to broaden my understanding of the world, to help as many people as I can. But you don’t need to humor me. I understand if that kind of knowledge is private or sacred to your kind.”

She gave him a faint, almost self-deprecating smile. “I get carried away sometimes. Can’t help myself when it comes to learning new things. But don’t worry about the spice,” she added with a small chuckle, trying to shift the conversation back to lighter things. “I’m from Sumeru, the land of spices. We practically live off the stuff. I can handle anything you throw at me.”

She found herself genuinely curious about him, not just as a fellow traveler but also as a subject of study. "You mentioned you not knowing about your metabolism," she said, her apothecary instincts kicking in again. "I’d wager it's faster than most, given your size and activity level. Have you ever noticed needing to eat more frequently than others, or maybe heal faster from injuries? Or never getting drunk from alcohol? That would indicate a high metabolic activity."

Itto’s offer to take her to his nearby place took her by surprise. She hesitated for a moment, glancing around the desolate area they were currently in. She hated the idea of imposing on him more than she already had, but the logical part of her mind reminded her that she wasn’t in any shape to fend off another attack from Kairagi or rifthounds if they came. Her pride and practicality wrestled briefly before she nodded. "Alright," she said, her voice measured. "But I don’t need a room. I can camp outside, under the stars. I’ve already imposed on you more than enough, and besides," she smiled lightly, "I’m used to it. Traveling solo and sleeping outdoors comes with the job." She said the last part with more confidence than she felt. The truth was, her body was screaming for rest and comfort, but she didn’t want to trouble him further. She’d already taken too much, and she didn’t want to be a burden.

When he brushed off her thanks, she couldn’t help but frown in confusion. Her mind turned over his words. Why would she attack him? It didn’t make sense. She mulled over it for a moment before speaking her thoughts aloud. “Why would I attack you?” she asked, genuinely puzzled. "First of all, you didn't seem hostile. And second," her lips curled into a wry smile, "I’d never pick a battle I know I’d lose. That’s just… bad strategy.”

[joylinda-hawks]

Today, as they say, I will add fuel to the fire. I'll explain why I'm here and not on the other side. Cold logic, assumption of the thesis, assessment of the situation and conclusions are to blame for this. Everything is cold and emotionless. We know one thing that what happened to ZZH is a clear warning to the general community of actors, celebrities and people associated with the entertainment industry. The message was clear: do not oppose us, because it means the end of your career, the end of normal life and the need to fight to return to normal. A powerful, effective lesson. I think a lot of people in the industry understood that. Many people in the industry humiliated themselves and agreed to conditions that were often demeaning to their dignity. The one who deals the cards in this game does not like the unruly and indecisive. ZZH was rebellious, he wanted to live his own way. He found it difficult to adapt to the constraints imposed by the industry, suffocating in the tight confines of the assignments in which he was placed. WOH was a revelation for him, a chance to come out of the shadows and become known in the industry. Years of work, years of dedication and talent can give this to the industry. When he got to the top, the industry rejected him. He became a threat, a threat to other less talented people, a threat that his rebellious nature would tempt others to imitate him. Therefore, it had to be destroyed, find dirt and sink it. His personal and professional life was simple, he did not engage in any affairs, he did not break the law, he was almost perfect. He loved his family and valued his friends. There was nothing on it that could destroy it. That's why it had to be created, done in a precise, perfidious way, so that everyone around had no doubts that ZZH had done what they were accusing it of. The cruelest solution was chosen, because only this could condemn him to damnation. Accusation of treason is a terrible accusation, the mark of a traitor is the worst thing that can happen to a person. innocent man. ZZH was betrayed, left to the mercy of a raging mob that killed him bit by bit in hateful comments. I can't imagine how ZZH felt when he read such comments, deleting those that defended him. He didn't want his fans to suffer, even in such a traumatic moment for him, he cared about his fandom. In the end, he was deprived of his voice. It has been suggested that the authorities, not a private association, are behind what happened. His fans were silenced, anyone who tried to coolly explain the situation was attacked by powerful water armies. He was slandered not only at home, the clear and clear message went abroad, where the press and the Internet, looking for a cheap sensation, spread this fake news. His mother must have been devastated at this point. She loved her son and would do anything for him. Yes, his mother tried to seek help and justice for him at the time, but everywhere she turned she was chased away like a stray animal. Death wishes, funeral wreaths can scare anyone. His mother must have found great strength at that moment to fight for him. That he was safe, that no one would hurt him. How people who refused her help can look each other in the face. Do they have peaceful dreams knowing that the refusal hurt an innocent man. Such behavior is sometimes a measure of humanity. Sometimes it seems that there is a little man in the man himself. Only one person was touched by his mother's tears and her story. One person who stood up against a corrupt system that has existed for years in the entertainment industry. She was silenced, but that didn't make her give up. Systematically and with full premeditation, she fought for ZZH. She gave hope that the ZZH case is not hopeless, that it may take a long time, but it will come back. Yes, time, time, which is not an ally of ZZH. He is no longer a young actor, and what counts in this industry is youth and freshness. There are many young guys who want to make a career and are able to do anything to achieve it. +

[sepublic]

I know people are saying Hunter was being manipulative, and while he definitely WAS to some extent...

At the same time, I think he genuinely thought he was right about Luz and Amity’s relationship? The kid has NO other frame of reference for a good relationship, just the conditional ‘love’ of Belos... I think Hunter was also genuinely trying to connect to Amity over this, as Luz had encouraged him to reach out more with others like him.

Maybe Hunter wanted to reassure Amity through his own solidarity with her and understanding of the situation, because she’s not the only one- He gets it! It’s okay, Amity doesn’t need to justify nor explain, her concerns are also valid, probably because they’re right and she’s NOT being too paranoid or letting her feelings take over!

And Hunter is right as Amity later acknowledges! She IS that same type of abused kid who felt the need to justify her own existence, Hunter just misinterpreted this as applying to Amity’s relationship with Luz, and not just her interactions with Odalia and Alador.

Plus Hunter HAS interacted with Alador and Odalia before, so with how Hunter recognizes Amity as the ‘Baby Blight’, he probably understands the Blight Parents as the same type of abusive, opportunistic people like his uncle. He knew the two of them first, so when Hunter sees Amity, he uses Odalia and Alador’s treatment of others as a frame of reference for how Amity was raised.

And even before Hunter chimed in, Amity HAD been concerned about losing Luz- Hunter had correctly observed what was already there and worked with it, made it worse... But this didn’t come from nowhere, nor was it quite his idea to begin with. Hunter didn’t plant any seeds into Amity’s mind, but rather feed a preexisting one.

There’s a reason why Hunter offers to dig a grave for Amity, when he thinks there really is no Titan’s Blood left, and thus has no reason to manipulate her- Yet he still extends this sympathy to Amity, just as Hunter does when he ‘thanks’ Amity for handing over the key, even though she was threatened.

On another note, I guess Hunter being a bit manipulative isn’t so shocking, not just because he’s legitimately desperate and feels cornered, and not just because he takes after Belos- But also because it seems he’s always been a bit of a deal maker, as we see in Separate Tides.

The kid DOES want to avoid conflict, actually- And he’s at least somewhat motivated by the fact that he doesn’t want to fight nor hurt people, and as soon as he no longer feels like he has to... Well, we see how he gets along with Luz, and thanks Amity in a moment of vulnerability that nobody asked for.

It doesn’t excuse what he did, but this IS who Hunter really is, just like Lilith isn’t someone who’d normally threaten to impale a child. But both of them, and even Kikimora, feel terrified of Belos;

Terrified of losing something from him, because he truly did grind their souls into nothing, and break these people to make them dependent upon him. He broke them so they legit can’t function without Belos... And when they don’t have that desired approval, the three of them completely fall apart.

But yeah, Hunter is at least socially aware enough to try and negotiate with people, play into what everyone wants, and he makes good use of hostages- Like threatening to drown King, all so he doesn’t have to kill the Selkidomus, and can justify not arresting Luz and Eda. It’s clever in a way that can be devious or kind, depending on the situation- But usually Hunter prefers to not be THAT mean, as he puts it.