#i hope people are still around and interested in two months because i’m a slow writer and that’s probably how long it’s going to take me to

[newtkelly]

.

[saerins]

( 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐀 ) — 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔

+ suna x f!reader | wc 1.8k | content: fluff, highly suggestive (skinny dipping), college au, best friends to lovers

notes: i …. do not know how this came out it just happened ૮꒰ྀི ´∩∩` ꒱ྀིა i was going somewhere with this but … yeah :’) idk i hope it’s okay >_<

summary: you both are good at living in denial. until now, until neither of you can stay away anymore.

“god, i missed hanging out with you.”

it makes your heart skip a beat; suna’s sudden confession. you look to your right, suna in the passenger seat of his own car with you behind the wheel. his head is thrown back against the seat, his green eyes lost behind his bangs.

you swallow the lump in your throat. “what kind of friend would i be if i left you all to your miserable, lonesome self, huh?”

suna sits up, looking at you, that godforsaken smirk plastered on his face. “as much of a horrible best friend you were back when i was still with haruka.”

he laughs when you flip him off. “please, your girlfriend’s insecurity comes first, okay, rintarou?”

“ex-girlfriend now,” he points out, “and there was nothing to be jealous about, we were just friends, babe.” he’s still laughing, obviously amused by your incredulousness after so long of not being in contact with you, and too used to you that he doesn’t flinch at calling you things like babe.

you extend your index finger, pointing it at him as a warning, “rin, i’m not joking.” because yeah, there was nothing going on, but you and rin were… close. and you’d probably get why some girls wouldn’t be okay with that. some of his girlfriends were fine with it, some of them even made friends with you, but of course some were not. like haruka.

that’s also why you and suna haven’t spoken in well over a year. it’s nothing you can’t handle… really.

but then you feel suna prying your outstretched palm open, your index finger in his hands and his lips pressing softly against your lifeline, a glint of mischief in his green eyes and that favourite smile of his filling your vision and you suddenly remember why you had to pry yourself away in the first place.

“stop being so smug, rin,” you snap, heated cheeks and suddenly remembering to breathe. hurriedly, you yank your hand away from him and start the engine while suna’s still there beside you, staring at you, amused.

“whatever you say, princess.”

it’s been over a month since the breakup with haruka and strangely, suna feels fine. there wasn’t any animosity between them either. it was just two people figuring out that this wasn’t working. they had that spark at first, yeah, but everything after that was just… something. a whole lot of something that suna just wasn’t interested in anymore. neither was she.

funny how he didn’t think he’d want anyone else for a while—until he saw you again on campus. being apart from you took some time getting used to, as it always did, but it wasn’t hard when there was always someone for him to fool around with.

and funny how the moment he started talking to you again that he started thinking maybe he wants it, all of what he had with all those ex-girlfriends, with you. and sue him for thinking that maybe you wanted it too.

“you’re such a slow ass driver, oh my god,” suna groans, earning your glare. now this; this feels like the kind of life he wants. chilling, enjoying night drives, you next to him. just you.

“you take the wheel then,” you huff, indignant.

fuck, you’re so cute.

suna crosses his arms, “nah i’m a little sleepy.”

you roll your eyes, hands on the gearshift, increasing the speed a little after his complaint. he still remembers how you pout when you’re disgruntled, how you idly puff your cheeks out when you’re concentrating, how you bite your lip when you’re nervous.

maybe his repressed feelings are catching up to him. maybe they’re telling him to just fucking get it over and done with because he’s done pretending.

you’re driving him to your parents’ holiday beach house after all, because your parents are rich like that and have absolutely no notion of saving simply because they never had the need to. you’re able to enjoy the spoils of it all.

plus, your car’s probably a thousand times better than his semi-beat up gt-r but here you are, insisting on driving his car instead of yours.

suna steals a sideways glance at you, the yellow from the street lamps bouncing off your face in all the right ways. god, you’re fucking pretty.

maybe he’ll make a move after all.

“can’t remember the last time i was here,” suna sighs as he gets out of the car. his heart is beating out of his chest; you don’t need to know that. he acts normal, like he isn’t anticipating anything with you, like he still thinks you’re just his friend, as though either of you can continue pretending like this.

because sure, when would a guy and a girl go to a beach house together completely platonic? suna thinks if there were people like that they’d be insane. especially if it’s with you because—he steals a glance at you again, dragging your weekend bag along with you as you fumble with the keys to open the door—look how goddamn beautiful you are.

and he thinks even more so one hour later, when you come out of the house in your swimsuit, looking hot as hell that suna’s glad he’s already in the water because you don’t need to see him reacting to that.

“what, you pussying out on me, rin?” you tease later, when he had half jokingly dared you to turn this into a skinny dip.

suna narrows his eyes at you, and for a moment it’s like you realise that he doesn’t look like his usual, smug self. like you can tell his expression’s growing soft. “i’ll do it if you do.”

some part of him is wishing you’ll say no, and not because he doesn’t want to see all of you (because he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think about you when he’s alone sometimes)—but because he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to hold back if he does.

maybe you’re oblivious to that, though, because you swim closer, throwing your arms around his shoulders and grinning. “my bottom’s off,” you tell him, and he can’t get it out of his head how you sound absolutely sinful.

with the sea so dark, he’s cursing it for not letting him see you.

“your top’s still on,” he tells you, eyeing the straps, eyes glazed with full-blown lust. so are yours, as he realises the moment he flicks his greens to you.

you’re not grinning anymore when you speak, “untie it for me.” you look a little timid, like you’re a little too aware of how his index finger is trailing a path down your spine—and yes, your bottoms are definitely off, probably lost in the bottom of the ocean somewhere.

suna doesn’t say a word, only relishes the way your breath hits his lips, enough of a compensation for a kiss for now, while his other free hand undoes the strap on your right, and then left, until your top goes limp and is probably joining your bottom soon.

it’s taking everything in him not to just carry you up so he can look at you. you smirk when you catch him thinking; like you know exactly what’s going on in his head.

because you do, he’s your best friend after all.

“let’s get back to the house, i’m freezing,” you grin, knowing that he’s groaning on the inside.

“fucking tease,” he’s grinning now too, watching as you float back towards the shore, pulling him along.

when you get out of the ocean, he stays still as you pick your towel up off the lounge chair, swallowing the lump in his throat as he admires you, bare body and so so perfect. he doesn’t mind dying tonight after this.

“quit staring, perv,” you giggle as you toss him his towel.

suna’s not crazy for thinking you’re into him too right? with the way you look at him with those eyes, with the way your fingers linger above his for a little too long.

“what’s wrong with staring?” he asks, challenging you, inching closer, feeling the smugness wear off when you realise you’re chest to chest, the kind of proximity you didn’t allow for earlier.

you’re stubborn, you insist on playing along, refusing to back down. “quit it, or i’ll think you like me, rin.”

it’s borderline amusing how you’re almost breathless by the time his forehead presses against yours, his fingers brushing your sides through your towel. your breath hitches in your throat and he likes that, likes you, so maybe he should keep staring.

“what’s wrong with that?”

he’s treading that line you’re always so afraid to cross, but fuck he just wants to pull you with him, take you back to your house and fucking love you like that’s all he knows.

but he’s patient, he’ll wait—because he wants you to make the move. to close that gap, to inch even closer than he has.

you’re nervous, but your hands come up to his cheeks and you give him that relief he seeks; your lips taste even better than he thought they would, and you sound like paradise. the way you gentle tug on his bottom lip before you eventually pull away has him going crazy, though maybe to be fair, he’s been going crazy for a while now, thinking of you in every crevice of his room whenever he’s alone.

“finally,” he exhales, taking some pride in the way you seem to have weak knees now, leaning on him. “maybe some of my exes had a point.”

you laugh, playfully pushing his chest away, “oh our first kiss and you’re going to talk about exes? i could tell you all about the time i dated kiyo—”

suna shuts you up forcefully with a kiss, both pairs of your legs clumsily hitting sand and rocks and the cobblestone path as the urgency to get back to the house hits.

“don’t wanna hear you say another guy’s name,” suna tells you in between kisses, smirking against your lips when he hears you whining as he pulls away. “just my name okay, baby?”

it’s hard not to fall for him when he’s like this; when even before everything he calls you pet names and introduces you to his family, when he always puts an arm around you and holds you close, when everytime he breaks up with someone and you inevitably draw close again that it feels like nothing’s changed.

“yeah, only you, rin.”

that smile will be the death of you, and his whisper of good girl against your ear is the ultimatum.

maybe you’ve always had a thing for your best friend.

now you finally get him.

[zweetpea]

Interlude: Between storm and forest

“I’m sorry what?” You ask but it’s muffled. Scaramouche ungags you. “I’m sorry what?”

He kisses you and you kiss him back. “Yes! Finally someone who wants to be with me! I’ve been waiting for someone to actually want me! I guess Baizhu and Dvalin do, but I was promised debauchery! Three people interested does not a harem make. I guess Ayaka may count. But I’ve never seen a harem anime with four people.”

“You’re not going to have a harem. I am going to be your husband and with your power I’m going to overthrow the Archons.”

“Yeah! Let’s go! Venti shot me! That bitch has this coming. Zhongli may be hot and he may or may not have two cocks but he still nearly let his people die so he could drink tea. And your mom may have giant tits… actually your mom’s coming around on me. Like she’s a bitch for abandoning you but she is trying to be a better leader.”

“Ugh, you’re loud.” He starts to leave.

“Wait! Don’t you want to ravish me as my husband to be?”

He looks back at you, face as red as a tomato. “What are you saying!?”

“Please?”

“No!”

“Are you self conscious? I can take top if it would be easier for you.”

“Just shut up!!” He screamed and left.

It was about a month since Scaramouche had taken you away from Inazuma. He’s barely touched you in that time. Gave you a few kisses but it never went farther than that and a few cuddles at night. Like sure you guys are traveling but still!

“Scara.” You say one night. Climbing on top of him. “Please.”

His face goes up in flames. “Stop.”

“I have been promised debauchery. I can feel that you want this. Your dick is sprung against my ass. So what is the problem?

…

we don’t have to do anything tonight but I’d like to know what is going on. A normal thing married couples do is this. Just tell me what’s wrong, I promise I won’t judge.”

“…I… I’ve never… done this before.”

“Do you want to wait?”

“No. It would be harder then because I’ve put it off so much. Doesn’t that bother you though?”

“Do you think that I came out of the womb a non virgin? I had my first time like everyone else. We’ll take it as slow as you want.”

“In that case.” He flips you both over on the bed. “I hope you’re ready to not be able to walk tomorrow. I may have never done this but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m doing.” He kisses down your neck.

“Okay this is certainly something I didn’t expect. I never knew I needed Dom Virgin Scara in my life.”

“I won’t be a virgin for long darling.”

You squeak. Now it’s your turn to blush like a virgin.

The next morning you can’t feel your legs, your ass is sore, your throat hurts and your mouth tastes salty.

“Can you fuck me like your a virgin every night?” You say when he wakes up.

“I’m spent. Next time I’m binding these grabby hands of yours with my Obi.”

“What does a Star Wars character have to do with how hard you fucked me?”

“What’s Star Wars?”

“Nerd movies. The first three made were decent. The prequels and sequels suck!”

“What’s this?” A voice from the doorway called. You two looked back and saw dottore.

“What a pretty specimen.” He said walking closer to you.

“Stay away!” Scara warns wrapping his arms around you.

Dottore lunges and Scara quickly grabs the electro gnosis and uses it to blast you away.

You clung to the blanket for dear life. And when you awoke, you were surrounded by sand and tan buff men and women.

“Pansexual panic!”

[ash5monster01]

Goes On Chapter Twelve

Pairing: Charlie Dalton x OC!FemReader

Warnings: 18+, depression, mentions of suicide, heavy topics, eventual smut, slow burn romance, fluff, gender themes/stereotypes.

Summary: Against his best efforts Charlie has to start at a new preparatory school after the tragic events that took place at Welton. The very events that led to the loss of his best friend and getting expelled in the first place. He has no plans to make friends let alone get close to anyone ever again. That is until he meets Evelyn and her interesting group of friends. No matter how hard he tries to push them away he finds it to be impossible. So he caves and in the end learns that life can still be enjoyable even if it feels like everyone is against you.

word count: 2.9k

Eleven ←→ Thirteen

Masterlist

Ridge Academy, NY

3/26/60

Dating in a private school could be difficult. Evelyn had listened to Violet complain about it for years but until now she hadn’t realized how true it was. It had been a month of dating Charlie and every day people still gave her a hard time and she felt like neither of them had any privacy. Even the dates at the cafe on campus didn’t feel real due to so many peering eyes. It was like animals in a zoo and Evelyn was tired of it. Especially since she still felt like she was getting to know Charlie. There was still so much there he hadn’t given her access too and she partly blamed it on this damn school.

So she had been grumpy. Which wasn’t usual for the girl but she was just annoyed. Sick and tired of waiting for the world to finally let her have and enjoy something for once. She finally found someone she enjoyed being with and liked, so why the hell couldn’t the universe provide her with a break? Allow her a chance to date her first boyfriend like every girl should. Not with the overlooking eyes but with an innocence that comes with experiencing all the things you hadn’t before.

“If you’re not careful your face’ll get stuck like that” Charlie muttered, leaning toward her on the couch and rubbing a thumb over the crease between her brows. Evelyn’s face instantly softened, heart yearning for the boy beside her.

“I’m sorry” she told him, legs shifting in his lap. The library had become a sort of safe haven for the two, cradling their budding love between the stacks of hundreds of books. At first Evelyn thought it was romantic but now she just felt annoyed that this was the only place she felt any privacy with the boy beside her.

“Don’t be, what’s on your mind?” the chestnut haired boy asks and Evelyn sighs, head leaning back against the couch.

“I just wish we could be alone” she tells him and Charlie chuckles, eyes glancing around the semi empty space around them.

“We are alone” he says and she groans, head shaking against the back of the cushions, brunette tresses falling in all directions.

“No I mean alone away from this school. I feel like everywhere we go there is someone we know. Relationships shouldn’t be so monitored” Evelyn counters and Charlie gives a understanding look because he knows exactly what she means. Even now there is a librarian twenty feet away and if he sneaks into her room at night it’s only bound to be interrupted by Violet or her be there the entire time. When he had wanted girls to attend Welton he had never considered the watchful eye factor, people like Nolan and Mr. McAllister watching your every move. He could see himself now sneaking his girl out to the old Indian Cave just to get some alone time, and then it hit him.

"What if we just left campus" he says and a shocked look paints Evelyn's face quickly.

"We can't, not without written permission from a parent and I don’t know about your parents but mine would definitely not sign off on me running around with a boy" she defends quickly and Charlie laughs, pulling her closer and hoping the librarian doesn't look up to bust them both.

"I didn't say anything about asking for permission" he grins, mischief sparkling in his eyes and the gears finally start turning in her head. It wouldn't be impossible. A few right moves and they both could be off and into the night, returning in the mask of the dark, and no one would know a thing.

"Okay, let's do it" she agrees quickly and he smiles wide, squeezing her as he presses a soft kiss to the side of her head.

"What do you say about 7:30, meet past the gate and behind the tree line?" and the nerves start to bubble in Evelyn's stomach but she smiles and agrees anyway.

"Perfect, but now I have to get ready!" and before Charlie could protest, Evelyn was up and out of her seat, scurrying in the direction of the dorms so she could get dressed for her first very real date. Sighing he leans back into the couch, a smile on his face from how much he adored her. Only once in a while did he feel despair about getting so close when he had promised himself not to. Those were only during the dark moments though, the moments where he couldn't stop his mind from thinking about how much he would miss her if she suddenly went away and then those thoughts would bring him right back to Neil. He wished he had appreciated him more when he was here. With this thoughts now swirling in his head he did the one thing that always made him feel better.

"Yeah, hi. I'm calling for Todd Anderson" Charlie said once the phone line picked up and whatever twelve year old blazer boy answered was off in search of his meek friend that could be the only one to calm him down during this time.

"Hello" Todd said after a few moments, voice coming out staticky from the phone and hundred miles inbetween them.

"Hey Todd, it's Charlie" he responded quickly, trying to keep his voice even as he tried to get the panic and sadness to go away.

"Hey Charlie, what’s going on? It's not Wednesday" Todd said, confusion laced in his voice and Charlie chuckled, a little sad because he could picture exactly what the boys face looked like right now. The overbearing weight of wanting to be back at Welton swallowing him whole. How torn the world must be if he still wished he was back at that dreaded school.

"I know, it's just- I have a date tonight" Charlie spoke softly and Todd grinned wide on the other end. The image of his overcondienct and cocky friend coming to mind. The one he knew, not knowing the new person he had become.

"Hey that's awesome Charlie, is it Evelyn?" Todd questioned, coming to know the girl from how the boy had talked about her. He knew it would only be a matter of time before he couldn’t stop himself from going after her. Todd was starting to get used to always being right.

"Yeah it’s her, it's just-.." and Charlie clamped his mouth shut, suddenly feeling silly for feeling this way. He was Charlie Dalton for Christ sake, he was confident, smart, and a womanizer. Why would he be calling quiet Todd Anderson about it?

"You can tell me Charlie" Todd spoke, finally sensing the discomfort coming from the boy he hadn't seen in person since before Christmas. Charlie took a moment, collecting himself before responding.

“What if I get to close and lose her too?” He whispered, voicing his worries out loud for the very first time. Todd was taken aback, shocked to hear the words that just left his mouth. Then it dawned on him that Neil was Charlie’s best friend, the one guy who had been by his side for the entirety of his days at Welton. Todd had only known Neil four months for him to become important to him, he couldn’t imagine a lifetime. Neil had already been gone more than half the amount of time Todd had known him but for Charlie it was different. For Charlie it was losing the one real person who loved you your entire life.

“Does she know?” Todd asked, curious if Charlie had disclosed the tragic event that had all changed them entirely for the rest of their lives. Yet Charlie’s silence was enough of an answer in itself.

“No one does, well except my room mate. I just didn’t want it to define me” Charlie finally told him, realizing the weight in his chest he has been carrying this whole time over not grieving properly. He had yet to be comforted for the loss of his friend and that had made it hard to get over. Hard to move on.

“You should tell her, it won’t change anything but until you do, can she ever really begin to understand you?” and Charlie remembered exactly why he had called Todd in the first place. He had become his new voice of reason since Neil died and he knew the exact right thing to say.

“I just don’t want her to see me differently” Charlie admitted and Todd wished he was there to give his friend a hug. He remembered not liking Charlie much at first. He thought his outgoing spirit was dangerous and that it put him in a position to be targeted amongst the group. Yet he failed to notice just how loyal the boy was and now he wished that during the time they did spend together he got to know him better.

“You are different Nuwanda. What matters is if you own it” Todd told him and Charlie chuckled lightly, fighting the tears that burned at the back of his eyes.

“I’ll tell her when I’m ready, I promise” he finally said and Todd accepted this answer not wanting to push him too far, so he decided to leave him with just this.

“Just remember you may never be ready” Todd says knowing his own grief had changed him entirely as a man. He was still living out his punishment with Nolan. It was funny how Nolan used to be annoyed with how outspoken he was but the moment he speaks up he gets silenced.

“Thanks Todd, I’ll talk to you later” Charlie smiled, feeling much better than before about this date.

“Good luck” Todd bid him goodbye and then the receiver clicked before indicating the dead line and Todd was gone, leaving Charlie no choice but to get ready and face his fears.

It’s not long until 7:30 hits, Charlie had been hiding in the tree line since 7. Wanting to lessen the chances of both of them getting caught and take the time to prepare himself for a real date. He may have always been cool with the women but he had truly never been on a proper date before. Especially with a girl like Evelyn, she deserved to be swept off her feet. He jumps when the sound of a branch snapping fills his ears but he quickly calms when he sees the foot is one with a kitten heel and not loafers that belonged to a teacher ready to bust him.

“That was thrilling” Evelyn whispers despite not needing to. They were far enough away now that no one would be able to hear him. Yet her words don’t register in Charlies head because as his eyes move up from her feet they find leg. Lots and lots of leg until right at her knees he is met with baby blue tulle, the skirt making her look like an angel on a cloud. It gets even better when he meets the sweetheart neckline, strained over her chest and looking so inviting. The silver chain necklace around her neck makes him shiver. Finally his eyes meet her own, just in time to spot the grin she wears from watching him check her out.

“I’m beginning to regret this idea of going out and not staying in now” Charlie says, shifting a little as he prepared to approach her. Evelyn just shook her head and reached for him anyways, not giving him much choice in the matter.

“I already convinced Violet to stay in Marty’s room until at least 3am, so we have time” she whispers before pulling him close and capturing his lips in her own. Charlie hums as she kisses him soft and sweet, agonizingly slow and leaving him wanting more. “Right now I just want my boyfriend to take me on a date”

“Then let’s do it” Charlie smiles at her, stealing one more kiss before lacing his fingers through her own and starting them on the walk.

It takes only a mile before they’re met with the sight of town, one Charlie had only been in a handful of times since coming here. Evelyn takes lead on picking the restaurant considering she had been in Ridge much longer than he ever had. It’s no surprise when she picks the small diner opposed to somewhere nicer. People gave the pair looks walking in all dressed up just for some burgers and shakes but neither of them minded when they finally found a booth. Floor sticky and table greasy, it was perfect for two kids just beginning to fall in love.

“I’ve never been on a real date before?” Evelyn admits, taking the red and white stripe straw between her lips and taking a sip of her chocolate shake. Charlie just smiled, his own strawberry shake in his hand.

“You’re telling me none of those guys in that co-ed school snuck you off campus to take you on proper date?” He teases, voice full of amusement as he looks at her.

“No Charles, they haven’t. Yet that’s the thing about co-ed schools. The boys don’t understand to appreciate it more” she says, thinking about all the boys she grew up with who never learned to be gentlemanly or even nervous in her presence.

“Idiots, I didn’t talk to a girl until I was thirteen” Charlie says with the shake of his head, smiling as the waitress sets down burgers and fries for them both. He grins at the way Evelyn has one fry shoved in her mouth before it even hits the table.

“How come you’re not nervous around girls then?” Evelyn inquires, grabbing some salt to put on her fries and on Charlie’s before setting it down.

“I figured there was never any reason to be. If I wanted to have a fighting chance I couldn’t just gape at a girl like a fish, I had to snag her before some other idiot did” and Evelyn’s laughing loudly at the explanation, other customers looking over and chuckling at the young kids on their night out.

“Well lucky for you no other idiots in that school liked me and I learned to accept that a long time ago” Charlie’s stiffens as the words leave her mouth, thinking of his friend who was probably in their shared dorm wondering where the hell he was. His friend who was the only one to know anything about him here. If only Nate had said something before he had fallen for the girl but now it was far too late.

“Idiots indeed” Charlie agrees before grabbing his burger and taking a large bite. Evelyn just smiles, mimicking his movements and doing the same. When some mustard gets smeared on Charlies cheek she’s quick to giggle and wipe it away.

As the night progresses the conversation continues to flow, laughter and smiles filling the space between them. It’s not long until plates are empty and stomachs are full. At some point Charlie even ends up on Evelyn’s side of the booth, arm wrapped around her as he recalls tales from his Welton days. Evelyn particularly likes the ones about Knox and all the things he did to gain the attention of Chris. Sadly it was getting close to curfew so Charlie threw some cash on the table and led the girl out the booth and back in the dreaded direction of the school, feeling guilty for still not telling her the truth about his past.

“That was much easier than expected” Evelyn says, swinging their interlocked hands between them. Charlie just laughs, eyes glancing down at her in the moonlight.

“It’s not over yet, now we have to sneak back in” Charlie informs her and she just rolls her eyes, leaning closer to him the closer they get to the school.

“I almost don’t want to go back in” she says when the gate comes into view and Charlie glances at his watch, noting there still was just forty minutes until curfew. Before Evelyn can say anything more he has her pressed up against one of the trees and he doesn’t miss the sharp breath she takes in.

“Then let’s not, at least for a little bit” he tells her and before she can agree he has his lips on hers, tipping her head back and against the tree. Evelyn settles into the kiss fairly quickly, hands coming to rest on his chest. Charlie finds his own comfort in the kiss, keeping a hand at her waist and the other on her face, making sure she kept access for him. He loved how she still tasted faintly of chocolate shake and how she relaxed into his arms. He hadn’t kissed many girls in his lifetime but none of them could ever compare.

“That was the best first date” Evelyn mutters when he finally gives her a chance to breath, lips trailing down her neck and to the top of her chest that he could barely keep his eyes off of all night. When his fingers tangle into her necklace he finally begins to pull away.

“Agreed, what do you say we do it again?” and Evelyn giggles as his lips meet her neck again. Smiling she reaches to tangle her fingers in his hair and memorize this moment to keep in her heart forever.

“Anytime Charlie”

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[inaweek-project]

March 23, 2024                                      

About the “‘In a Week’ Project”

I get stuck every time I try to write this because all the details beside the main message seem so frivolous.

The song “In a Week” has always elicited strong images whenever I listened. The same movie would play in my head, but with slightly different details each time: skeletons laying peacefully in an open grave at the top of a hill; no, there was a picnic first, then the slow decay; actually, the scene should play in reverse, so the bones grow flesh and skin…

Two months after October 2023, I was getting high in a bath on my birthday and listening to the song. The story was no longer about the passing of time or decomposing next to a lover. The persistent imagery that played in my mind from then on morphed into a story about a choice a young fictional couple made while facing a horrific situation that no one should ever have to go through, but many real people did and many still do.

Everything in my life is now about Palestine.

I’m Palestinian, born and raised in America after my grandparents (that’s how recent this all is) were displaced due to settler colonialism during the Nakba in 1948. I gave up on the dream to visit the area where my family is from a long time ago. (In fact, I don’t think I ever seriously dreamt of it because it felt so impossible.) Gaza has reignited that dream and gave me the determination to dedicate my life to fighting for our right to return. I will do anything to take advantage of this unprecedented support we now have from around the world.

I’m constantly learning horrors, both new and of the past. There is always something new to learn in the worst way possible. There is nothing Zionists can do that will shock me; they have shown they are capable of doing things rooted in the deepest levels of evil. What makes everything so much worse is the lack of accountability and how they have the audacity to act like the victims. I often get frustrated in my efforts to help on the American front; I let my shyness and anxiety get in the way of doing even the simplest of things to help. This project is a way to use my strengths (writing) to help spread the truth about our history and show the abject horrors that have been overlooked for decades. They benefit from the denial of the Nakba and from the overall lack of knowledge.

I hope this “‘In a Week’ project” is interesting enough to get people to read it and at the same time learn the details of what ethnic cleansing looks like (and the deplorable people who do it with pride.) The one takeaway I want to make sure is known is that even though this was inspired by a heartbreaking love song and has elements of the romance genre, it is not a romantic story.

The reference page (to come) that lists what parts of the story are based on real events that Palestinians have gone through is the most important part of this whole project.

The true face of Zionism is rearing its ugly head and is finally starting to fall, all by their own doing. There is no argument to be made; I only have to show what has already been done.

Again:

This is not about romance or romantic love.

Every detail shows a bit of truth.

The Project:

I call this a “project” because I wrote this story two different ways, a short story and script. The similarities will be obvious at first, but then the script goes deeper into the horrors of ethnic cleansing and settler colonialism. This is where the majority of the historical context comes in. I think I went further with the script than the short story because I see this project in terms of imagery that should unnerve people, and I think the best, most direct way to do that would be on-screen visuals.

I will probably do 3 versions of each: one with no callouts or notes, one with endnotes and references, and one with annotations where I explain everything (just because I love to do that.) There are 3 important dates coming up that I will (hopefully) use as my deadlines: March 30th is Land Day, April 9th is when the Deir Yassin Massacre took place, and May 15th, the day the Nakba is commemorated.

What’s making me drag my feet on this project is having to look up the sources and read more about the Nakba. I don’t know how much more I can take.

Fears:

I’m actually not helping.

This story only comes off as romanizing the Nakba and fucks up the narrative of Palestinians and the history in a way I didn’t see, and I become a disgrace.

People’s only take away is the romantic tragedy element.

[paperstorm]

Well Ao3 is to slow to function for me right now - so in lieu of anything else to do you’re getting a random question lol re: Tarlos (no pressure to answer!)

SO it seems to generally be established fanon (if not technically canon) that neither TK or Carlos hooked up with anyone else while broken up. I agree! I don’t think based on their personalities and the timeline either would have. BUT I do think it’s fun sometimes to speculate on nonsense so.

Let’s play around with the idea that they did, who do you think is more likely to have done the random hook up (I think Carlos - I hc that TK would have been hanging on to his sobriety by his teeth the first few weeks at least, and I don’t think he’d risk going “out” for a while to avoid temptation. Although let’s be clear I still don’t think Carlos is LIKELY to have done it lol, just more likely than TK) what is the reaction on both sides? How much angst does it cause? How do they move past it? Who blames themselves more? How does it change things from current interpretation?

Here’s hoping ao3 gets its act together soon 😊

Mostly I think we’re all too in love with them as a couple to imagine them with anyone else 😂 Altho I admire people who can. Tbh I think TK would be more likely to, just because he already has a history of being with other people. I guess we don’t know for *sure* Alex wasn’t his first and only but I feel like it’s implied that’s not the case. And I feel like it is implied especially in season 4 that Carlos has very little experience before TK. In my mind Carlos seems more the type to dramatically decide that tk is his soulmate so if he can’t have TK he’ll just be celibate (at least for the short amount of time they were apart, I don’t think he literally would’ve been alone forever but I think two months in he would be certain he would never love again). Whereas TK I feel is more the type to hook up with others because he’s desperate to not hurt anymore and he thinks forcing himself to move on is the only way to make that happen. I’m always interested what other people think tho, I love headcanons that differ from my own.

[skyward-floored]

Oooh can I get more stuff about Hyrule :3 his backstory seems very interesting to me in the incredibles au!

This isn’t all of Hyrule’s backstory, but... this is definitely the worst part.

I actually already had a bunch of this written and was planning to publish it at some point as it’s own thing, so it has a reason to be as long as it is. I’m never going to be able to stick to the self-imposed word limit why did I bother

Set a month or two before Sky and Time find him, and ah... warning for blood and injury. sorry. I’ll put most of it under a cut because of that.

———

Link leapt straight over a pile of cardboard boxes, almost slipping in a pile of icy slush as he landed, but he managed to regain his balance and kept running, ears pricked for the shouting coming from behind him.

The wind was cold where it blew through the holes in his coat; winter had come earlier than anyone had expected, and Link hadn’t hadn’t been given anything thicker to wear.

But was finally out of that awful place, after a whole string of awful places, and could easily find a winter coat now, he was sure.

And maybe somewhere not so awful.

Link swerved around a corner and screeched to a halt, finding himself in a dead end. A tall fence blocked the end of the alleyway, but as Link looked closer, he realized he could probably climb it.

“There he is!”

Link’s heart shot straight up into his throat, and he ran over to the fence, scrambling up the freezing metal as footsteps pounded behind him.

He spared half a glance behind him as the shouts increased, hands shaking as he caught sight of several familiar faces. An eye insignia was visible on almost all of them, and he paled as he realized just how many people were chasing him. Was the whole gang after him?

Link had just reached the top when he heard a noise, and turned just in time to see something flying towards him—

Pain exploded in Link’s side and he screamed as he just barely managed to throw himself over the fence, forcing himself to create a shield right before he hit the ground. There was a small pile of snow which helped cushion the fall, and Link dropped his shield as he stumbled quickly to his feet.

He nearly went sprawling as his side burned, but he forced himself to walk, barely biting back another scream. He was not going back there, he was not letting them catch him again. The first time had been horrible, and he was sure it would be even worse if they caught him this time.

Link managed a jog, hoping the rapidly worsening storm would be too much for the men to keep chasing him. He took tricky paths and crawled through pipes, backtracking and going in as confusing of a manner as possible as the city grew more and more white with snow around him.

But finally the pain was too much.

Link finally fell to his knees as his side screamed in pain, red dripping onto the snow. Somehow he managed to drag himself to some shelter, shivering with pain and cold as he curled up behind a half-buried dumpster.

Link pressed his hands to his side, nearly shrieking when he touched the bloodied skin. His tears made it hard to see, but he could still catch the blue glow of his powers as he tried desperately to heal himself, fighting past his exhaustion and terror.

He wasn’t sure how far he got before he passed out.

(...)

The blizzard had slowed to mere flurries when Link awoke, exhausted and shivering with cold.

He stared above him at the sky, dark with clouds, but lit a faint orange by the light of the city. Every inch of him hurt, his tears had frozen on his cheeks, and every sound could be a sign of someone coming to drag him back and force him to heal for people who just wanted to hurt others.

Link sniffled, but held back his tears, still terrified someone would hear him. Instead he curled up in a ball, trying to conserve heat as he closed his eyes again. His side still hurt, but he knew he was too tired to try and heal it further.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been lying there when a sound hit his ears, and he dragged his eyes open again, a shadow falling across his face.

Link blinked up at the figure above him, and felt his stomach drop as he saw a large, heavyset man, who looked rather menacing despite the sprinkle of flurries catching in his beard.

It was a member of the gang.

He’d been found.

Link was still weakened from healing himself, and exhausted from how far he’d run in such a short time and the fact that he’d barely had any food the past several days. The likelihood of him escaping was far too small, but he had to try. He had to.

Link shrank back, shivering wildly and looking for a way to somehow slip away despite how he could barely move.

But then the man carefully held out a hand, in a gesture that was the opposite of threatening.

Link stared at it, then flinched as the man reached into his bag, expecting a weapon to be pulled on him. But instead the man pulled out a blanket, and handed it over to Link.

Link watched in disbelief, too frozen in astonishment to take it. The man leaned closer when he didn’t move, and tugged the blanket over Link’s shoulders, warm fabric settled over his freezing arms. Link couldn’t move he was so shocked, but then the man pressed a small container into his hands as well, of something that smelled amazing and was beautifully warm.

He looked up at the man in utter shock, and a finger went to the man’s lips, something surprisingly gentle in his gaze.

“It’s a secret to everybody,” he said in a whisper, then gave Link a single pat on the head before disappearing into the night.

Link stared after him, something tightening in his throat for some reason.

But he shook it off, ignoring how he could still feel the warmth of the man’s hand on his head, and turned his attention back to the container in his lap. Delicious smells were coming from inside, and he eagerly pulled the box open.

He nearly felt like crying at the sight of the warm food inside, meat and noodles of some kind with pieces of vegetables tucked in along with it. As the warm smells drifted around him, Link decided he didn’t care if this was a trick. He hadn’t eaten barely anything all week, and the sight and smell were too much for his aching stomach to resist.

He dug in, food warming him straight from head to toe, and even when it was gone the night didn’t seem quite as cold as it had before. Link blinked drowsily as he finished, feeling warm and surprisingly content. His side didn’t even hurt as much, and he curled up in the blanket the man had given him, the fabric thin, but surprisingly soft and warm.

He knew he should probably stay awake in case the man had tricked him and tried to come back, but his exhaustion won out, and he fell asleep.

He’d figure it out tomorrow.

[bisamwilson]

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. Let’s spread the self-love ❤

also tagged by @writerkenna!!

thanks y'all for the love <3

5 fics + excerpts!

wish that i could wind (like a spiral stair through time)

“Five o’clock sharp every morning, baby,” he’d said, over half a century ago now, his voice weak and his bones weaker, holding onto Bucky’s far less wrinkled hand with all the strength he still had. “Early morning exercise is important for old men like us: keeps us living longer.” Bucky has lived fifty-two years, three months, and twelve days longer than Sam had ever gotten to, and, running his hand over Sam’s side of the bed, his favorite blanket kept pristine even after all these years, he thinks living longer is the last thing he’d ever want. He still gets up at five to exercise every day, though. After all, Sam had asked him to, and who is Bucky to deny Sam anything he asks, even all these years later.

2. my convenience store dream boy

The most definitely real heat gets stronger for just a moment, disappearing when Cap puts on a friendly smile. “Can’t say I pegged you for an optimist, Bucky,” he says, holding Bucky’s phone out. Bucky takes it back without looking away from his face. “I’m not, usually. Only when there’s something—or someone—worth inspiring my optimism.” Bucky’s probably gone too far on the side of “hammy,” but Cap’s still interested enough for him to think he didn’t quite blow his chance. As a matter of fact, he’s a little too interested, really, because this is going to give Bucky ideas—the dangerous kind, the kind that’s gonna break his heart someday, he’s sure.

3. put some mustard on it

Sam notices the heightened restlessness too, he’s sure, but that comes along with Bucky agreeing to go on morning runs with him more often as well as an exponential uptake in random warm smiles, so Sam probably doesn’t say anything in worry of breaking that particular spell.  Every time he thinks about that ring he just breaks out into a grin, and every time Sam asks him to come along he doesn’t want to miss a single second. Smiling, running, being with Sam, looking at his ring from Costco. That’s most of Bucky’s life these days. And buying and subsequently wasting mustard, of course. He’s been too busy thinking about the ring to stage that intervention.

4. but it feels like there's oceans between you and me

Usually pleasure rolls off Bucky in waves in times like this, the initial slow push almost more satisfying to him than the explosive finish, but now Sam feels a frenzy of emotions, entirely at odds with Bucky’s calm approach to fucking him.  Fear. Relief. Anger. Worry. Something Sam might call “love” if he didn’t know better.

and, of course,

5. (it's your kiss) hey princess

There’s a noticeable pause between Sam’s steps at that, but Bucky effortlessly leads them back on track. “I appreciate dropping formalities, but I gotta say, ‘Bucky’ does not exactly fit with the handsome noble vibe you’ve got going here.” Bucky spins them around in a move that is surprisingly easy but leaves Sam a little breathless. “Childhood nickname that stuck. My middle name’s Buchanan, which is somehow even more unfortunate than Bucky, but my younger sister, Becca, had issues with it when she was young. It came out more similar to ‘Bucky,’ and that’s what I’ve been called ever since, at least by the people I’m close to.” “We’ve met so recently, Buck, one might think it’s a little sad that I’m already included in those ranks, even if I’m not complaining.” Bucky dips him low and leans into his ear, whispering, “We’re not quite close yet, Prince, but you’ll forgive me for hoping we get there.”

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Corrupted, Chapter Four: Watched - a Malevolent x TMA fic

Tim's been treading, head above water, for a while now. He had hoped to find help.

That’s not really what the Magnus Institute does.

AO3

——-

Tim leaves early.

Navigating empty streets at night is one thing. This is heading into west London right at the beginning of the work day, and he will take no chances. Beyond all the ones he can’t avoid, anyway.

John’s navigation, however, is flawless. Slow down a little. Good. The step is higher than that—good.

On the bus without incident. Amazing.

And then it’s very weird, because Tim is used to scrolling his phone on public transit, and he obviously can’t do that now—but it gives him an idea. He rummages in his backpack.

What are you doing? John sounds curious.

Tim finds what he’s searching for by feel. “Ah, ha!” he says, and uncoils a white cord with earbuds. “There,” he says, plugging into his phone. “Thank you, Past Tim, Pack-Rat Extraordinaire. Now I can talk without looking crazy. Just on the phone, ma’am, nothing to see here.”

Very smart, John says. I’m impressed.

“Modern technology, eh?” says Tim. “Modernish, anyway. Speaking of which, you don’t seem to be struggling very hard with things like cell phones and rideshares. You’d been here before. Recently.”

Have I? Tim, there are so many worlds, so many timelines, so many dimensions. I’ve seen technology you would never believe—and magic that made it all irrelevant.

What an answer. “And you’re humble about it, too,” Tim says. “Also, you’re deflecting. You know movie titles. Not that Tim Curry doesn’t deserve multiverse fame, but you knew who that was.”

Such a clever man, John purrs, and Tim shifts in his seat, unwillingly affected. I see I will have to watch what I say around you.

“Deflecting. Again. Anyway, I’ve been thinking,” he murmurs, facing the window. “You must be kind of rare, whatever you are. If the world were full of things like you, I’m pretty sure I’d know.”

Really. 

Amused. That’s that tone. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I? Why wouldn’t everybody?”

Because for most of us, it’s far more entertaining and useful when humans don’t know what’s watching them from the shadows.

“Okay, so that’s really ominous,” says Tim. “Worse than ‘a being.’ Positively malevolent. Still not gonna tell me what you are?”

No.

Tim sighs. “So. Anything interesting out the window?”

Quite a lot, actually. And John proceeds to describe what he sees.

Tim would absolutely have bought the audio with this guy narrating London for tourists.

John manages to make ordinary shops and red mailboxes interesting. He describes people Tim knows he would never have even noticed on his own. He manages to make London feel like a thriving, vividly energetic throng, a place of potential, not just a crowded, expensive place to work.

It almost feels like part of a life worth living. Maybe it’s time to face the fact that he has no plans. The house selling is great, but he is going to need another job—and yeah, Nigel is probably not going to give him a recommendation.

Tim should care about that more than he does.

You’re drifting, says John.

“Sorry. Just… trying to think about things. Future. Employment. All those boring human details.”

I see. What are you thinking?

“You actually want to know?”

I do, Tim.

Tim slouches comfortably, sliding low in his seat. “Sure. Well, I worked in publishing. I’m a really good editor. But… I don’t know anymore.”

Looking for a change?

“Needing one, honestly.” He swallows around the tightness in his throat. “I was thinking about when I quit, and nobody… nobody really cared. I haven’t been happy for a while, you know? And they say you’re not supposed to make any major changes like quitting your job or selling your house or getting married for a year after bereavement, but, uh. I’m two for three, and it hasn’t even been a month.”

I see. You feel the need to keep moving, John observes, low. The type of creature which, if it ceases swimming, will drown.

Tim shivers. “Wow. Never been called whatever that is before.”

A shark. This is our stop.

Tim laughs. “Shark? I am so not a shark.” Somehow, he manages to exit the bus without running into anyone or banging his head, and exhales in relief. “Right. Which way?”

I’m not sure. There are a lot of old buildings here, but not much signage. Walk forward. More to your left.

It’s like a trust game, Tim thinks. Like something to do with your brother one boring summer afternoon, one of you blindfolded and the other giving directions and accidentally-on-purpose steering you into things.

Sure. That makes it less scary. Right.

Ha! There we go. I see a small, brass sign that says, MAGNUS INSTITUTE 1818. Perfect. And—oh, Tim.

“What?”

This is a place of power. The way John says that… deeper, richer, absolutely eager.

Tim shivers. “Power? What kind of power? Is that good?”

Perhaps. I’ve never had trouble with this particular Power. I believe I am safe.

“You sure you’re as anonymous as you think?”

The moment you made that phone call, Tim, you bet both our lives. If I thought this were truly a danger, I would have said so.

“Sure, put it on me,” he mutters. “How far?”

Stairs starting… now.

There are more stairs than Tim expected. They’re wide and shallow, just a little awkward to climb. “Does it look spooky?”

It’s a temple, John breathes. Oh… I knew it was old, but I didn’t expect this. The one worshiped here has been worshiped here for a long time. Door.

Tim feels for the handle, tugs. Of course, it’s still locked. “Guess we’ll just have to loiter for a bit. You know, in front of the scary pagan temple in the middle of London. What time does my phone say?”

Seven. We’re an hour early. Heh. And pagan doesn’t cover it.

“Sure. Well, better early than—”

“Excuse me, can I help you?” comes a posh baritone.

Tim, there’s a… oh. 

Tim wonders what that oh was for. “Hi. I, uh. I need to see someone inside. Kind of an emergency.”

The posh man huffs, like an irritated cat. “Well, we don’t… this is a place of research, so I’m not sure what you expect in an emergency.”

He’s a slight person, shorter than you, much narrower. Brown skin; I’d think mixed South Asian ancestry. He’s slightly overdressed for the weather; shirt, vest, sweater over that. He’s managing to look down his nose at you in spite of his height. But Tim… he’s been claimed, branded by the thing that calls this its base of power, in a messy, undisciplined way. I don’t understand what I’m seeing. It’s like he’s accidentally a priest.

So that’s the oh. Tim wonders how the hell one can accidentally be a priest. “Well, I need to, uh. What was it the website said? Give my statement?”

There is an irritated sigh. “Well, you might as well come in. I can at least give you a place to wait until Gertrude arrives—ah, Ms. Robinson, the head Archivist.” The voice is moving away, accompanied by the sound of keys. “I’m Jonathan Sims. In research.”

“Tim Stoker. In trouble.” 

He hunched when you said that. I believe he feels more for our emergency than he wants to let on. 

“Sorry to hear that,” researcher-Jon mutters. “But as I said, I’m not sure what we can do. Police?”

“Not for this, mate. But thanks, anyway.”

Correct to the left a bit. He’s holding the door for you. Ahead of us is an enormous, open lobby with old marble and dark wood. It’s beautiful, elegant. I see no furniture or anything else to trip you. To the left and right are the stacks going out of sight in the gloom. Clearly, at least part of this building is a library.

Their footsteps echo. It smells like books.

“What’s your statement regarding?” drawls researcher-Jon, audibly trying to be polite.

“A horrible book that ruined my life,” says Tim.

He’s stopped walking and is staring at you, abruptly pale, the arrogance dropped away like a mask. Oh, you’ve got his attention now. 

“What?” says researcher-Jon. “What did you say? A book?”

“Yeah.”

“Did it have… a bookplate in front?” says researcher-Jon.

Tim can feel himself going pale, too. “Yeah. It said, ‘The Library of Jurgen Leitner.’”

“Oh, gods,” says researcher-Jon. “You… you’ve…”

He looks afraid, Tim, and—oh!

Those oh exclamations were, Tim was beginning to realize, far more important than any casual fuck or damn.

“Jon?” comes another voice, posh, somehow managerial. “Well, I’m used to you being here early, but who’s your…” The voice stops.

Oh!

Tim is about ready to strangle something over those oh’s.

“Elias, he’s touched a Leitner,” says researcher-Jon.

“I understand. I’ll handle this one,” says the man.

“I was going to make sure Gertrude—”

“Jon,” says the man, in a quiet, uncompromising tone. “I will handle this. Go on, now.”

“All right, all right. Good luck, Tim.” Researcher-Jon sounds like he means it, and he leaves, Oxfords clacking away.

“Thanks,” Tim calls after him.

Tim, this has to be the high priest of this place. Its power, its marking, is all over him.

“Elias Bouchard.” There’s a pause. 

He’s holding out his hand. He’s a couple decades older than you. Expensive suit. Handsome in a boring sort of way. And he’s powerful. Oh, Tim, he’s powerful. 

“The head honcho, eh?” says Tim, and reaches.

The handshake is firm and not spooky, so that much is good.

“Can you navigate?” says Bouchard.

“What?” says Tim.

And Bouchard’s voice is low. “I can clearly see that whatever… that is inside you has done something to your eyes—which is to say, you are blind. Do you wish for guidance to my office? I completely understand if you’re more comfortable making your own way.”

He… can see me? John sounds stunned.

“You see him?” says Tim in a small voice.

“I do. He’s… my, my, my.”

He’s not supposed to be able to see me, John says with a slight tremor.

Tim’s not feeling fear. Relief and shock and desperation rise up his throat like vomit, and he has to swallow emotions down before he can talk. He is not insane. External validation. His eyes leak, and he wipes them. “Can you help? This happened last night. You can see him. What’s—”

“Good morning, Mister Bouchard!” comes a cheerful tenor. 

A tall, overweight man, surprisingly light on his toes, with bright red hair and a charming smile.

“Martin, good morning,” says Bouchard. “Mister Stoker, was it? Please come with me. We’d best deal with this in my office.”

Tim, you didn’t tell him your name.

True. And unnerving. “Okay,” Tim says, wary. “How’d you know my name?”

“Your passenger is not all I can see. Come along, please.”

Well. John had said they’d read his mind here.

I’m familiar with avatars of this particular Power, but this is an unusual level of skill. Be cautious.

Great! “Well, that simplifies things, right? At least I’ll be believed,” says Tim with cheer he does not feel.

“Refreshingly pragmatic,” says Bouchard. 

Yeah, this was lovely.

Follow the sound of his shoes. We’re passing a secretary’s desk. His office is straight ahead. Tim, this man’s body isn’t as old as he is. He’s confusing to look at.

“What’s that mean?”

Bouchard ignores Tim’s mutters. “Here we are.”

The sound of a door closing behind Tim feels… weird. Very weird. He feels stared at. Ganged up on? Prickly, like he has to defend himself, or—

“Please, Mister Stoker, have a seat.”

Tim feels for the chair. “Do you think you can help us?”

There is a pause. 

He’s seated at the desk. His hands are folded, and his gaze is… intense. 

“Well, can you blame me?” says Bouchard. “You are truly magnificent.”

Tim is confused for the moment it takes him to realize who was just addressed.

John gasps. You can hear me?

“Yes. I simply had to… adjust a few details. Tilt the radar dish, play with the bunny-ears—ah, but you’re too young for those references, aren’t you, Mister Stoker?”

And Tim can feel two very distinct things.

One: John is afraid. Being seen and heard has shaken him; finding out why is definitely going to come up after this.

Two: Tim knows he’s being subtly mocked. The weird, watched sensation has grown, making him feel judged, and he really, really wants to make it stop. “I’m not a kid, for crying out loud. I know what a television antenna is.”

If you can hear me, then I highly suggest you stop siphoning him, John growls.

“What?” Tim blurts.

“My apologies,” Bouchard sounds positively silky. “My patron craves your fear. Can I get you some tea?”

Tim is frozen. “My fear?”

John growls. Full-on growls, and it is not remotely a human sound, and it is huge, and absolutely frightening. Back. Off.

“I’m afraid I have no such control over it,” says Bouchard, standing. “The Eye doesn’t have much in the way of personality—only hunger. However, if Mister Stoker does manage to calm down, the Eye will have no use for him. He’ll practically be invisible to it.”

“The Eye? What? Like a giant eyeball?” Tim stammers.

“Quite. I’ll be back with that tea. Take a moment, will you? Breathe deeply. You’ll be just fine.”

Bouchard leaves, and Tim resists the urge to wipe himself down as if the man’s words had been coated in oil. “It’s a big eyeball god?” he says.

Something like that. What we are dealing with is a Power—an Entity that lives on fear.

“What the fucking hell?” 

You need to calm the fuck down.

“Oh, sure, I’ll just hit the calm the fuck down button,” says Tim. “Maybe I should’ve asked for something stronger than tea.”

John sighs. Then he flips that smooth, warm, absolutely devastating voice into action.You’re going to be all right. He told you what to do to avoid his Power’s hunger. Just take a minute, and breathe with me, all right? In. Out. Slower.

Fucking dom, Tim thinks, but does it. “This place is actually trying to making me feel watched, isn’t it?”

I believe so. But you’re handling it like a champ. In. Out. There, you see? That wasn’t so hard.

It does feel better. “No, I guess not.”

I told you—you can trust me, Tim.

Tim snorts. “Opportunist.”

Bouchard returns. “Hold out your hand.” 

Tim finds himself with a cup of tea. He closes his eyes, sipping. “Thanks. That makes me feel human again.”

“Of course. Now. Why don’t you tell me what happened last night?”

His fingers are steepled. He’s watching us without blinking. 

“Spooky,” says Tim before he can help himself.

Bouchard laughs lightly. “I serve a patron that feeds on fear. I’m afraid that whatever else I offer, comfort will not be on the menu.”

Tim’s heart sinks. “But… can you help?”

“Let’s find out. What happened?”

Tim takes out the book.

Careful,  John warns. Open that, and it will again send out a— oh. He’s leaning away from it. Tim, he looks terrified.

“Well,” says Bouchard. “That is… ah..”

Tim already hates touching this thing. It may be psychosomatic, but now it feels terrible, greasy, like living skin. “What? What do you see?”

“I am going to make a guess,” says Bouchard slowly. “The passenger in your head was in this book first. Yes?”

“Yes,” says Tim.

“There is something else in that book. I would heavily advise you not to open it again.”

What? What? There is no other being in this book.

“I assure you, there is,” says Bouchard.

Impossible, John says as if offended.

“I assure you, it is not,” says Bouchard.

“So what do I do?” says Tim. “There’s got to be something I can do.”

And though he cannot see Bouchard looking at him, Tim suddenly feels pinned. Feels very distinctly like this man just reached into his brain and peeled it open, revealing everything he is.

John growls again.

“I will be frank,” says Bouchard. “I do not yet have an answer, but I believe I can find one. I have at my disposal quite a lot of knowledge, as well as some truly interesting contacts. I am willing to leverage all of that to help you in exchange for the freedom to watch how it all pans out.“

Tim’s not sure what that means. “What do you mean, watch how it all pans out?”

His eyes lidded just at the thought.

“I will give you much more than aid. I will give you answer. Any I find.”

Tempting. “You must really like to watch, eh?” Tim says, trying not to make it sound sexual.

“You have no idea,” Bouchard says, not trying to avoid that at all. “I’ve never seen the like. A new thing, to my patron, is the highest form of offering, and I am quite eager to help you. You rather have me over the proverbial barrel, Mister Stoker.”

He’s leaning back again, considering us. His fingers are still steepled. It’s a thoughtful look, pensive, as if he’s weighing something.

“You are in need of a job,” he says.

Spooky mind-reading confirmed! Tim thinks, slightly panicked. “I... will in time, sure.”

“I could employ you.”

Tim snorts. “No offense, but this place feels really weird.”

“It does, yes—but it’s also very safe.”

“Not according to every nerve in my body,” says Tim.

“The paranoia and fear are side effects of proximity to the Ceaseless Watcher. They are not representative of actual danger,” says Bouchard. “Working here would grant you some… protections, as well.”

“I don’t know quite how we got to offering my CV to a fear-god, but no thanks?” says Tim. “Got at least a few months before I’m that desperate, I think.”

“And do you plan to remain occupied that long?” says Bouchard.

Tim goes silent.

Can you help or not? I want something definitive. Your god is impressive, but this man is mine, and if you think I’m going to share—

“Hold the fuck on!” says Tim. “What?” 

Bouchard laughs. “It’s all right. Mister Stoker. I’m fairly sure he’s just responding to the invasiveness of my patron—for which I do apologize. Do you have a safe place to stay?”

“Sure?” says Tim, still fighting against the absolute certainty of being watched, against the weirdness of his desire to rage in response.

“Would you be willing to leave that book with me?”

Absolutely not.

“But what if he can see inside it without opening it, or something?” says Tim.

No .

That growl is really something. 

Tim takes a deep breath. “Hey. What does John look like?”

John has no body of his own to stiffen, but Tim feels him do it, anyway.

“Well,” says Bouchard, eyes lidding. “I see him in two ways. First is an impression—I suspect his own of himself. Whispers of the form he once had; catastrophically beautiful, like a terrible storm. Darker than mere absence of light, as if he might absorb it. There is gold throughout—I can’t quite make out the shape, but it is a very specific and almost harsh yellow. He seems to have… how shall I put this… the essence of a body that simply is not human. Multiple limbs, perhaps tentacles. Enormous horns or antlers, casting spined shadows. And I think he was quite large. All of that, however, is echo. What do I see when I look at him? The reverse of a flame. Dark, and hungry; fluttering and flickering like conflagration dancing in the wind, and significantly more dangerous than he seems. Given the right fuel, I daresay he could burn the world.”

Tim is silent.

John is silent.

“Wow,” says Tim.

There is a fabric rustle, and Tim suspects Bouchard has shrugged as if to say, Well, there it is.

“You really see all that?” said Tim.

“I do.”

“What the hell is he?”

“I have absolutely no idea. You’re very lucky. Whatever you're experiencing may have no precedent in this world.”

John is still silent.

Tim sighs. “So… what now?”

“Well, I suggest food that is not peanut butter? And keeping your head down. If you truly wish to keep the book, I think there may be a target on you. I can’t offer you protection outside my place of power.”

Tim snorts. “Well, unless you’ve secretly got an apartment complex in here, it wouldn’t do me much good, anyway.”

“Actually, we do, in a way.”

“What?”

“My employees are… hard-working. Part of the archive below has been converted. There is a small sleeping area, a washroom, a very minimal kitchenette. Should things grow desperate, you have my permission to kip there, as it were.”

“You really want to watch all this, don’t you?” says Tim.

“Indeed I do. And while I readily confess I will be watching anyway, doing so with your permission and awareness makes it all so much more delicious. Is there anything else?”

At least he’s honest about being creepy, Tim thinks, because that’s all he can think. “Not until you have a solution.”

“Not yet.”

“And my offer?”

This has to be a them, not a him. “John?”

I need to think.

“Fair enough.” There’s the sound of a chair rolling back.

He’s standing. 

Tim stands, too. He doesn’t know what to do. This hadn’t gone at all how he’d hoped.

“I’m sure it’ll all work out,” says Bouchard with a sort of dark glee.

“Right,” says Tim. “Thanks, I… guess.”

“Here. I do hope you change your minds.”

He’s holding out a business card.

Tim takes it on automatic. 

It sounds like Bouchard opens the door.

Tim walks out.

#

With every step, his heart feels heavier.

He’d been so sure solutions would be here. Immediate ones. Telling himself that had kept him going all morning. But now…

There wasn’t help. There was the possibility of help, with the cost of loss of privacy—which he might have lost anyway, just by coming here.

None of this feels good. Tim sighs, fishing for his earbuds.

Someone gasps.

Tim, there’s an old woman looking at us. She… something about her is very dangerous. Something about her… Tim, I think she can see me. Fuck this place.

“Good for her,” mutters Tim, who has decided merely seeing John does not qualify one for anything. “Am I still going right?”

Yes. The door is three steps ahead.

“Leave it,” says Bouchard behind them.

Tim doesn’t think that was for him, and he feels for the door handle.

“Elias, you can’t be serious,” says the old woman’s voice—old but strong, frustrated.

What, had she been about to do something to them? 

Tim is sure of it. Sure of it, and doesn’t know why.

Hurry. Apparently, John is sure of it, too.

Tim hurries.

#

Stairs just ahead. Take your time.

Tim does, one step at a time, using the excuse of concentration to be silent. He wipes his leaky eyes.

Are you all right?

“No. Gonna have to be, though, apparently, because I don’t want to take his deal.”

I promise you, Bouchard will be watching us regardless of what we do; it’s the nature of the Power he serves. It only makes sense to benefit from it, given that we will pay either way.

“Well, fuck that guy, then,” says Tim. “I guess consent isn’t on some fear god’s radar.”

I don’t know why you ever thought it would be. You’ve reached the last step. Where now?

“I don’t know. I’m trying to think. Can I just walk somewhere? Get away from this place?”

Walk to your right. There isn’t much traffic. I may have an idea, but I need to… weigh the pros and cons.

“Right.” So Tim walks, and doesn’t speak again until he’s found a comfortable pace and position that seems to keep him from smashing into anyone.

It works better than Tim would have thought. John directs, corrects, and says nothing of substance.

Tim is deep in thought. A lot happened here.

He’s always thought of himself as deeply pragmatic. That means tackling this with an open mind, and organizing it in lists as quickly as possible, ready to absorb new rules. “So,” he says. “A few things.”

Hm? says John, sounding distracted.

“First, you were scared in there.”

Yes. At least John can admit that honestly. I know you’re new to this, so it may seem like nothing to you—but neither of those people should have been able to see me, much less hear me. I am deeply startled.

“Right,” said Tim. “And by saying that, you’re revealing you’ve done this so often that you have a ‘normal’ in your head, so that’s a whole thing.”

Not as often as you think. I’ve spent most of my time in this world in that book.

Tim’s not sure he believes that. “They didn’t recognize you, though.”

No. They did not, or I would have urged you to run like a cat on fire.

Tim smiles weakly. “Hell of an image. Look, what did you do that you have to hide from everyone? You said you’d tell me after.”

It isn’t so much what I’ve done, John says slowly. It is what I am. You were correct in that earlier assumption: I am… rare. Endangered, in fact.

Tim has a feeling John isn’t using that word casually. “So what are you?”

A being. Rare. Powerful, in my own right, though as you can tell by our current situation, I’ve been robbed of my body.

“Where is your body?”

In another plane of existence, friend. Quite out of reach, I’m afraid.

“Are you dead?” He has to ask.

No.

“Are you… what, a prisoner?”

Tim… I really don’t feel like answering these right now.

“Promise broken. I‘m keeping track,” says Tim, but only half means it. “So there’s you, antlered-tentacled-whatever-the-fuck. There’s fear-gods.There’s accidental priests. So… are there good fairies, or something? Wishing wells? Forest spirits of mercy, or kindness, or whatever?”

No. The lack of hesitation is upsetting. There are no beneficent fairies. No good and kind spirits waiting to freely give of themselves to mortals in need. Everything that exists only does so because it has not been eaten or used by something else, including yourself—from your immune system to your choices, you also fight to survive. 

This is different from John’s usual calming tone. It’s not crazy-smooth; it’s just quiet, and Tim suddenly feels like this is the first time John has been genuinely gentle with him.

Tim’s throat feels tight. “Bit of a downer, there,” he manages after a minute. “So what do we do?”

You truly don’t feel what he offered was worth what he asked?

“Just being in that building made me feel like hitting something, and that isn’t like me. I started to get angry, over, just… nothing. No. Whatever price I have to pay to get out of this, I’m not losing myself for it. That guy didn’t even have a solution, anyway. Just a what-if. Not worth it.”

Yes… yes. John sounds thoughtful . That’s a good way of looking at it. The cost cannot be one’s self. 

Tim isn’t done. “And just so you know, John? Maybe I am surviving , like everybody else here, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make choices and be a good person and help other mortals in need.”

Seeing yourself as the hero, are you?

Tim snorts. ”No. I’d be a cheerfully bisexual bard, at best. I just mean… I don’t know. You make every living thing sound like an asshole, and I don’t think all of us are.”

John chuckles. A slutty bard? Really?

“It’s a DND ref- wait. You understood that?”

Yes. I’m familiar with the trope. I’m merely amused you used it.

“That has some implications, holy shit. How the hell are you familiar with an internet meme? How much time have you spent here?”

Not everyone who kept this book was only a cultist. Some of them were nerds.

Tim is flabbergasted. “What, did they just keep you on the table while scrolling through The Adventure Zone?”

Sometimes.

This doesn’t feel like the full truth. There’s something else John is not saying here, but Tim doesn’t know how to get at it. “I can talk to you in memes,” he says instead. “I’m going to be insufferable.”

John chuckles. Ah… I do like you, Tim.

That sounded regretful? Odd. Why would he… 

Or maybe Tim just feels paranoid thanks to whatever the hell that place was. “How does anyone even manage to work there without all becoming axe murderers?” he mutters.

I believe if you are inclined toward the type of fear and information-gathering that god prefers, it grants some sanity so you can keep feeding it. I’ve seen the like.

“A whole fear-god economy. Fuck me, that’s wild.”

Indeed.

“And by the way—what was all that ‘mine’ stuff about?”

John sighs. I apologize. I could feel the Power feeding on you, and I thought perhaps it would respect some kind of… prior claim. Obviously, that didn’t work.

“So you’re not a lot familiar with that thing.”

No. Enough to know that one isn’t much of a danger to me—but others like it must be avoided.

“Did one of those fear-gods send the monsters to my parents’ house?”

Yes.

Tim laughs weakly. “Wow. So they’re actively after you. Fuck. John, you’ve got to have a better idea what to do.”

I have an idea, if you’re willing to try it—but first, you need to eat. Your physical form has needs; Bouchard was right about that. Man shall not live by peanut butter alone.

It is deeply unnerving to hear all these deeply human references used with such familiarity. “I don’t want to try dealing with a restaurant. Find me a take-out place.”

Keep going. I’ll get you there.

He couldn’t believe himself anymore. A tiny part of him is beginning to wonder if, somehow, his family might be cursed.

It’s going to be okay, Tim tells himself on repeat. It’s going to be okay. 

———-

NOTES:

Do I hear that description of the King in Ben Meredith’s voice? Yes. Yes, I do.

[fangirl94stuff]

Jorel Decker (J-Dog) (Hollywood Undead)

JOREL

'How long have you guys been together?' Danny asks, bringing his beer to his lips.

the whole band had a party at George's place to celebrate our recent album release with our partners and close friends. I'd decided to bring my new partner y/n, who'd met the members individually but not all together with alcohol involved.

'Two months,' y/n replies, and I squeeze them around the waist.

After my last breakup, I'd decided to be single for a while, but that was short-lived because I agreed to a blind date to shut people up and was set up with y/n. They'd also ended a long-term relationship so we were in the same boat, and we found out we had a lot in common so we decided to give this relationship thing one last chance. However we'd also decided to take things slow, and that had gotten around the band, especially the fact that y/n and I hadn't had our first kiss yet.

Danny smirks at me, 'And you still haven't kissed. Does J have bad breath or something y/n?'

y/n laughs and sips their drink but I could tell the question annoyed them, 'Nope, and it's none of your business.'

'That's my y/n, let's leave Danny,' I suggest, unwrapping my arm from around their waist and taking their free hand.

y/n nods and we leave Danny in the kitchen, 'let's get some fresh air.'

We make our way through the dining room where Dylan was joking with some guys from the label, and he wiggles his eyebrows in our direction as we pass.

'Where are you two going? Seven minutes in heaven?' he jokes.

I flip him off and y/n and I enter the lounge where Jordan and George were. We probably should have gone out back to avoid all these snarky comments.

'Ignore them J,' y/n whispers to me and I smile fondly at them, at how despite being uncomfortable and annoyed themselves they were concerned about my feelings as well.

'You going to get some J?' Jordan shouts across the room.

George slaps him across the back of the head, 'Dude they have to kiss first.'

Jordan pouts and rubs his head, 'doesn't matter which lips he kisses.'

'You little fuc--'

'Let's get you outside J,' y/n cuts me off from blowing up at Jordan for being inappropriate. They pull me into the hallway and open the front door.

y/n lets go of my hand and I start pacing, 'I'm sorry about the guys.'

y/n stands in front of me stopping me from pacing, 'You know what J let's do this.'

Before I can question them, they lean forwards and peck me on the lips sweetly before pulling back blushing, 'I wasn't expecting your lips to be so soft J.'

I blink in shock, 'I hope you didn't feel pressured to kiss me y/n.'

y/n bites their lip, 'I wanted to kiss you J, see what all the hype is about and it was worth it. Do you want to kiss me back?'

I nod, 'yes I want to kiss you y/n, come here.'

I close the space between us and kiss them back. This was an interesting way to have a first kiss with someone and would be a funny story for the future. we stop kissing after a minute or two and y/n rests their head on my chest and I can't help but chuckle.

'I can hear your heartbeat y/n, relax.'

y/n looks up at me and smiles, 'Oh quiet you.'

[rottencoyote]

for like, idk maybe for like four months i’ve been pissed off at my friend, FOR GOOD REASON BRO I SWEAR! so when i was still doing uni (studying in film for whoever wanted to know, and somehow graduated idea bro that was the big man upstairs doing me a solid for once), me and my friend went on break and walked around the city doing fuck knows what, cause that’s what uni students do ig. she was bored, and i was bored, so i was like “hey! wanna go see my favourite store? sells cool shit” (by cool shit, i mean cool clothing and jewellery and other neat lil nick nacks) and she said “sure id love to!”.

now a thing about my friend is that she likes to steal. actively steal. both because she thinks it’s fun and because she can’t afford what she wants sometimes cause she spends most her money on vapes and weed and a bunch of other psychedelics. before we entered the store, i made her promise not to steal, cause i love and respect the fuck out of this store and i’ve wanted to work there since i was fifteen (and i’m now twenty). she said she promised and swore she wouldn’t take anything, and me being a fucking hopeful and trusting dumb fuck, believed her. now i saw this really sick hoodie, where it was basically a cropped hoodie (STAY WITH ME ON THIS) but it was made to look like a rib cage, so it was fucking cool. the owner sold it to me for 45 bucks, but the hoodie originally costed 55 bucks, so she took ten bucks off cause i fell in love with this hoodie, so i got real fucking hyped and thanked her profusely. now, this is a key thing to remember, cause the tags they used were airtags. the type of tags where it needed to be unlocked with a type of pin at the front desk. otherwise you can’t take that shit off, unless you got scissors (this is also important).

so my friend went into the change room with a BUNCH of clothes, and i waited near the front and had small talk with the store owner, asking if it’s been busy, slow, shit like that. i noticed that my friend is taking a long fucking time, so i go to check on her and ask if she’s good, and she said yes, paused then asked “hey coyote? do you have any scissors in your bag? i need it for my nails”

now this is where a lot of my guilt comes in, cause i genuinely didn’t realise my mistake until it was too late. i said yeah in my bag (which was in the change room with her) and she said thanks. i always carry scissors on me cause i like to scrap book, and if i see anything interesting i cut it out and sample it to put into my sketch book so i get inspired for any future projects.

after like another ten minutes she finally comes out, but i notice two things. the first was that there were significantly less clothes than when she walked into the change rooms with, and the second thing was noticing something sticking out of her pocket.

SHE CUT THE FUCKING TAGS OFF WHEN I TOLD HER NOT TO FUCKING STEAL. SHE EVEN PROMISED ME MULTIPLE TIMES TOO!!!!

like????

now i’m freaking out, cause i don’t want to get roped into this. and she kept on trying to reassure me and said it’s fine she’s a ‘pro’ at this. bro idgaf you promised me and BROKE that promise. the lady asked where the clothes were, and my friend said in the free clothes box. so i go and check, literally emptying the box while thinking “she’s fucked, i’m fucked, we’re BOTH fucked, god PLEASE no” just planning out my fucking funeral atp, and the woman goes to the BOTH OF US “empty your bags, now.”

i watched her empty her bag, fucking cringing and mortified, just watching the store owner tear into her, saying she has to pay for all of it. i started apologising profusely, telling her i didn’t know she was going to do this, just kept on saying i’m sorry over and over again, cause i’m livid, mortified, just fucking humiliated at my friend. BRO, THE STOREOWNER DEADASS LOOKED ME IN THE EYE, AND SAYS THAT I WAS IN ON IT?? HUH??? KEEP IN MIND THERES LIKE FOUR OTHER PEOPLE IN THE STORE WATCHING THIS HAPPENING AND WERE JUST JUDGING US. (which i don’t blame them, cause it was a fucking shitshow and a half). the storeowner asked her how did she even do this, and she said “i used my nails to cut the fabric”…bro come ON LIKE-

you could tell she used scissors, CAUSE SHE DID. MY DAMN SCISSORS THAT WERE IN MY BAG. CAUSE IM A STUPID FUCKING DUMB FUCK WHO REALISED WHAT SHE WAS DOING WAY TOO FUCKING LATE.

i genuinely wanted to fucking cry AND die man, right then and there. i was so unbelievably humiliated and embarrassed cause my fucking friend couldn’t keep her damn hands to herself and couldn’t keep her promise. the storeowner said that she did the same thing at our age, and said she wouldn’t call the cops on us, i tried saying sorry again and that i never meant for my friend to do this, and pretty much got shut down again and that the storeowner didn’t want to hear my excuses. i ended up dragging my friend out from there and tearing her a new one, saying how i can never show my face there or even step foot into that store again, and she kept saying sorry, but also tried to joke about it?? which only made me more fucking angry, cause any chance i had of working there was just fucking trampled, chewed and spat onto the fucking dirt because of her.

i feel guilty cause i was unknowingly involved until it was too late, but i’m angry and hurt because she promised me that she wouldn’t steal from there, but did it anyways and didn’t give two shits, and that i got pulled into it and blamed because if she was stealing, then that meant i was stealing too. idk man, cause it’s been four months and it’s STILL bugging me, cause it was literally MY DREAM to work there. it sucks man. it really fucking sucks.

[in-my-feels-probably]

Untitled Dramione Fic

A/N - Hi! So, this is an untitled Dramione fic that I very roughly planned out and wrote the first chapter to a few months ago. Basically I was wondering, is anyone interested in reading it?

This chapter is unedited, and if people want me to continue with it, it will definitely be edited and potentially altered to fit whatever plot I plan for the fic. But I figured I would post it as is just to see if anyone was at all interested in reading more. I roughly planned out a few ideas for the fic, but I’m open to any questions, suggestions, criticism, comments, and feedback you may have! I am currently in the middle of writing two other fics, one for Aemond Targaryen, and one for Kaz Brekker, as well as taking requests. I was hesitant to even post this because I know I’ve got a lot of other writing to be doing, so this would probably be a slow moving fic. But I figured I may as well post it just so people can see it and leave any comments.

So, yeah! Please let me know! I’ll definitely get back to planning and writing this fic if people seem interested. It’ll be posted on Wattpad, Tumblr, and Ao3! I hope you enjoy it :)

–

Chapter 1

Hermione had long since scourgified the blood away from her hands, but she still stared blankly at the tile floor as she held shaking hands in the scalding water under the tap. This pain, she could bear. She had become used to the physical anguish of war, with a few years to grow accustomed to it. This part was easy for her.

The pain of losing someone, however, was as fresh as the day Dumbledore had died. And although she had grown to loathe the man after, she still felt a little prick in her heart at the mention of his name. She had seen countless deaths since then, and has even been responsible for a few herself. She tried to let the faces blend together, tried to detach herself from who they were, how she knew them, what they were fighting for.

She let the water run over her hands a few moments longer, the skin so red it looked like it was beginning to blister. She faintly recognized the pain, but she kept her eyes to the floor, zoning in on the tile pattern. A lion, stood tall and powerful on its hind legs, a symbol of courage, and bravery. Ironic, considering how fast the courage drained in the room when the shadow of death was looming. Still, she stared at the mosaic on the tiles, watching how the light gleamed across the floor. She would’ve stared at the floor all day if it meant not having to face it.

Anything to prolong the imminent pain of turning around and seeing Neville Longbottom’s cold dead body, lying there on the table.

She sucked in a breath, willing the tears not to fall.

She turned to face Neville, feeling her stomach turn at the sight of him. Having spent the better part of the war learning spells and countercurses that would be useful in the war effort, she had done what she could to help Neville. He had been hit with a Furnunculus curse, which covers the target in boils.

Normally, a charm or hex like this one could be easily countered and remedied. However, as the playing field between sides began narrowing, Voldemort ordered his brightest witches and wizards to begin studying curses and spells. His efforts were successful, as simple spells normally used for pranks were altered into life threatening curses, if not countered quickly.

Hermione hadn’t seen anything like this curse. The boils were filled with poison, slowly seeping into the bloodstream of the victim. Once enough was in their system, there was nothing that could be done.

When Neville was rushed in, screaming, and being practically carried by Dean Thomas, Hermione was called in from Snape’s laboratory where she was studying, and she had apparated to St. Mungo’s, where she and the hospital ward healers rushed to help. Normally, she worked clinically and efficiently with victims, skilled at her craft.

But this was Neville.

The boy who lost his toad on the first day of class, who took Ginny to the Yule Ball. One of the first to volunteer for field missions, despite the blatant horror on his face. His stubborn Gryffindor bravery had shined through.

She saw no bravery on his face as he looked to her with pleading eyes, begging for help, no actual words coming out from the gargling in his throat. At the end, he managed to screech out, “kill me!” before spitting up blood onto the lion mosaic on the floor..

Sometimes, Hermione wished her friends would have adopted the Slytherin trait of self preservation.

Hermione’s mind began racing with what if’s, berating herself for not studying hard enough, for not paying attention enough when–before he was killed a month later–Kingsley Shacklebolt ordered the entire Order learn basic healing spells. Not that it mattered much, she was probably one of the only students to take it seriously. Most of them thought the war would be a quick feat, and the extra schooling was deemed unnecessary.

The blind optimism died after the first field mission, when countless students came back cursed into oblivion. What Hermione would have given to have Madam Pomfrey alongside her, reminding her of the basics.

Voldemort was quick to rip away that advantage, too. He had sent Fenrir Greyback after particularly useful members of the Resistance. Greyback made it through half the hospital ward, including Pomfrey, before McGonagall took him out.  

Hermione was forced to pull herself together, trying to remember every shred of knowledge she had learned about healing and countering curses. She wasn’t a great healer, by any means. She could hold her own, but her real talent was in her work with curses.

But Neville had gotten there too late.

Hermione had no choice but to watch as the boils leaking into his skin sputtered blood and poison, Neville laying on the table, screaming and writhing.

He was the most recent of the mercy kills on her list.

After he was gone, and everyone had filed out of the room, their eyes glossed over, staring blankly, Hermione was forced to analyze the body, to try and figure out what the curse was made up of.

Because the Order hardly let her out in the field, her value with her mind was too great to lose. She was quite knowledgeable in the new curses emerging from the field everyday, and she was able to figure out the curse easily enough. All she could do now is send her findings to Bill Weasley in whatever safe house or country he was in. He hadn’t been studying Cursebreaking for long before the war made it too difficult to continue running Hogwarts or the Ministry, and Voldemort had certainly corrupted what was left. However, Hermione and some of the professors thought Bill had a knack for it, and continued his training.

For the past two years, all curses identified through her were sent to Bill to reimplement into the field training.

Still, she thought she would double check with Snape when he got back from the mission Voldemort called him back for.

Hermione was one of the few to know that Snape was a spy for the Order. She found out soon after Dumbledore died, when the war started picking up. She was wary at first, but she had to admit, his knowledge of spells, potions, and charms were fascinating–and incredibly valuable. It was enough to trump her own disdain for the man, seeing as that it was for the greater good.

Now, she only wished to herself that things were normal, and that she could go back to Hogwarts and sit in another one of Snape’s classes. The opportunity seemed a lifetime away.

She shook her head, clearing her throat. Now wasn’t the time for dreams. She turned back to Neville, pulling the sheet up and over his body. She stood still next to him, before she registered Harry walking in.

He walked up to the table, lifting the sheet to see Neville’s face. Hermione watched the lines set on his face into a grimace. He dropped the sheet, his fists balled at his sides until the knuckles turned white.

“So it’s true, then?”

Hermione said nothing, fiddling with a string coming out of the hem of her apron. Harry mumbled swears under his breath, slamming a fist on the table. Hermione fought the urge to flinch back.

“Fuck!”

“Harry, you shouldn’t be here, it's not safe.” Hermione slowly raised a hand and placed it on his shoulder.

It was torture, watching Harry’s spirit crumble. The only time she ever saw him anymore with a genuine smile on his face was when he was around Ginny. Hermione didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

Still, it wasn’t safe for Harry to be out in a place so public, not on a mission. She wished Dean had brought Neville to one of their warded and armed hospitals, but St. Mungo’s was the closest. And it would have been pretty empty, with people too scared of attacks to attempt a visit.

Harry sighed, gripping her hand in his.

“You shouldn’t be here either, ‘Mione. We need to go,” he mumbled.

Hermione nodded, calling in a healer to take care of Neville. She felt the sting behind her eyes, and just before apparating, she called out, her voice masking a sob.

“Please be careful with him.”

–

They landed in front of Grimmauld Place, which had been abandoned towards the beginning of the war. After Sirius died, it stopped being used for meetings. Kreacher died soon after, and although he was very old, Hermione thought it was more probable that his heart couldn’t handle losing another Black heir. Grimmauld Place stood vacant, minus the vandalization the Death Eaters must have been responsible for, or others who resented the Order for not fighting back hard enough.

Hermione let her eyes close for a moment, feeling the wind blow through her hair. “Harry, we shouldn’t be out here, either. If Lupin knew–”

“I know, Hermione! I know!” Harry threw his hands up in the air as he spoke, and the wind brushed the hair back from his forehead. His hair had grown in length, wisping in tufts, framing his face. When it was pushed back like this, Hermione glanced at him and realized just how young he looked. How young he was. With everything he had been through, he carried himself a lot older. A long scar, more realistically resembling a lightning bolt, ran down the length of his face from his temple to his jaw. He had gotten it on one of the first missions out, around the same time he realized he was going to have to learn nastier spells. It was visible now.

Harry sighed, running a hand down his face. “I’m sorry. Just give me a minute, yeah?”

Hermione nodded, quickly scanning the area, before taking a seat on the step. She watched Harry’s mouth open and close, like he was fighting himself to speak, and she noticed the bob in his throat. It was silent a moment longer, and he finally spoke.

“Seeing Neville like that…it reminded me of him. I just miss him. I really fucking miss him.”

Hermione felt her heart ache at the mention, balling her fists until she was sure her nails had drawn blood on her palms.

Ron.

Ron had died a little over a year ago. The three were out hunting for Horcruxes, when Ron got mad about something, something so little that Hermione couldn’t even recall exactly what it was anymore, and he stormed out of the tent. Hermione had tried to go after him, calling out to him, but he apparated, and was gone.

His body was found at the Burrow three days later.

Nobody was staying there, but Lupin went to check on it often. It was used as an emergency hideout or post delivery point. Nobody knew this but a few members of the Order. Hermione supposed the use of the Burrow was just a sick message. Ron’s family home, an homage to his death.

Ron was found strung up from the second story window, with a sign around his neck.

It read,

“Found the moronic blood traitor on his own. Trouble in paradise? The Mudblood is next, then the Order, and then, Potter. You have my word. The Dark Lord sends his regards. - L.M.”

Lucius Malfoy had found him wandering alone, trying to send a letter with an update on the Horcrux hunt. Snape determined that Ron had been victim to the Imperious curse, forced to wrap the rope around his own neck and jump off the ledge himself. His chest was puffed out, meaning Lucius had used a spell to keep putting air in his lungs, just enough to keep him alive, while he was strangled to death. From the lacerations on his neck, it was clear he had hung for a while, struggling, before he finally died.

Hermione coped by throwing herself into her work. Becoming Snape’s apprentice, learning healing, spells, charms, hexes, and counterhexes. She was easily one of the most skilled and valued witches of her time. She tried her best to see Harry as often as she could, but the pair would never be the same as the trio.

Harry never got over it.

He blamed himself, and spent most of his time out on missions. He never used an Unforgivable Curse, but he had killed many Death Eaters before he finally mustered up the courage to go to Ginny. As far as Hermione was concerned, Ginny was the bravest person she had ever met. Ginny had already lost Percy and Charlie, so she knew how to cope with Ron’s death. She carried her family, she carried Harry, and they all made it through as best they could. One of Hermione’s favorite things was seeing how soft Harry would go around her. He was always angry, but never with her.

Hermione tried not to think about Ron, and if she did, it was only the good things. She couldn’t bear thinking about the night he left, she already blamed herself enough already. But Harry had now reminded her of him, and reopened that wound. But now, it wasn’t just him. It was Neville too.

“Hermione, we have to do something, we need an advantage. I can’t lose more people to them, not like this. They’re suffering for nothing. We’re sending them out there defenseless against the magic Voldemort has them creating daily now.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “What are you asking me, Harry? I’m doing my best.”

“It’s not enough!”

Hermione felt a pang in her chest, and she let out the smallest gasp. She saw the regret on his face, and she knew he was sorry. He wished he hadn’t said it, but he meant every word, that was clear.

Hermione cleared her throat. “I know you’re hurting, Harry. And I’m sorry. But I am trying my best. I’m sorry that’s not enough for you.”

Harry’s face fell, regret clear on his face. “Hermione, I’m sorry, really. I’m just frustrated, I didn’t mean that.”

She smiled sadly at him. “You meant it. Just ask whatever it is you’re thinking about so I can get back where I’m needed.”

Harry’s lips pressed into a thin line, now unsure if he should ask what has been bothering him for days now. With a raise of Hermione’s brow, signaling him to continue, he spoke. “We’re getting demolished on the field. Voldemort has new curses created everyday, and we’re sending out our own to take the brunt of it. I’m fucking tired, Hermione. It’s not fair. You’re working till your fingers bleed, and it doesn’t make a fucking difference! We’re drowning—”

“What are you asking, Harry?” Hermione cut him off, getting overwhelmed..

He took a deep breath. “Can you…can you create curses? You spend all day breaking them down, surely you can put one back together.”

Hermione furrowed her brows in confusion. “Create a curse? A curse that does what, exactly?”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t know, ‘Mione, but I’m sure you can come up with something. I don’t care what it does, but we need something to even the playing field, we need something that really does some damage. I’m not asking you to kill anyone yourself, or help the Order do it, but…we’re a few good fighters away from having to use Unforgivables, and I don’t want to be the one to suggest it.”

Hermione shuddered at the idea of the Chosen One, with a flash of green emerging from the tip of his wand.

She couldn’t believe her best friend, the one she had fixed his glasses for in First year, was reduced to another soldier in the ranks, broken and battered by war. Then again, she couldn’t believe the depths she had gone to herself. Maybe things would have gone over smoother if Dumbledore hadn’t gotten himself killed, and all his secrets with him.

“Some of the others, they’re not willing to use them, not just yet. But eventually, the majority will be in favor, even Lupin. We need to offer them something else, something effective. Lethal, even. We need a fair fight,” Harry finished, taking a breath.

Hermione sighed exasperatedly, bringing fingers up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Harry, are you sure? Some of these curses are really dark, they take a toll on you. You know Lupin will be furious if he finds out what we’re doing. Do you want to be responsible for its effects?”

“That depends on what ideas you have,” Harry halfheartedly jokes.

She nodded, running a hand through wild hair. She racked her brain for every possibility, any part of her knowledge that would be useful. She pondered over ideas for a moment, calculating in her head. Suddenly, she looked up at Harry, eyes wide.

“What is it?” Harry cautiously questioned.

“Harry, where are you keeping the Marvolo ring?” She quietly asked.

Harry appeared confused, but he reached out to her anyway. “Come on, I’ll take you.”

She grabbed his hand in hers, and they apparated away from Grimmauld Place.

–

A/N - Hi! Like I said earlier, please leave any comments you have, let me know what you think! If people are interested, I’ll definitely get back to this. Honestly, this fic could change a lot if I do actually get back to it, we’ll see. I’ve always wanted to write Dramione though, so I’m definitely interested in getting back to this! Hope you enjoyed it :)

[plant-dad-sulu]

Back in April on a Tuesday morning I got a call from my dad

He asked me if I’d gotten an email from my aunt and when I said no he told me that my uncle was sick. He had gone into the hospital feeling unwell and on Monday they had diagnosed him with cancer and hospitalized him. It was liver cancer they said, he couldn’t tell me what stage just that it was terminal, had already spread by the time they found it. He had tumours in his kidneys and lungs.

I had to work that day so I thanked my dad for telling me and got on with my day. I told one person that my uncle was sick, no one else knew.

On Wednesday I drove to Hamilton for work, or maybe Catham I can’t remember which came first. We spent a week there setting up our show, rehearsing, performing, striking, something we’d been doing every week for 6 months, it was easy by then. I worked and tried not to think about it. I’d already lost family and friends to cancer, I knew what to expect. I told one more person. She told me about her grandparents who had died of brain cancer. I didn’t feel like I had any room to feel sorry for myself so I didn’t bring it up again.

On Monday night I got into my hotel room past midnight, it was Tuesday morning now, we’d just struck the show and I was sore and exhausted and ready to sleep. My coworker I was sharing a room with was already sleeping in the next bed over. I got changed and collapsed into bed and I checked my email before going to sleep. I had an email from my aunt saying my uncle had died.

It took one week.

Seven days from him getting diagnosed to him dying. I’d never known anyone who’d died that suddenly before, everyone else I’d known who had had cancer had had a slow decline, months or even years, sometimes with a remission or two just to give you hope first. I didn’t have time for hope with my uncle. I hadn’t even been home.

We drove back to Toronto the next day, unloaded the trucks, returned them, took the bus home. I didn’t tell anyone he was dead, I didn’t know how. When I got home that night I told my friends I had gotten bad news and needed to talk to someone. One person was free. I told him what had happened and I didn’t know what else to say about it. I just needed someone to know.

He asked if I was close with this uncle. I said no. He asked if I was sad. I said didn’t know. We hung up pretty quickly.

The next email was to tell us there wouldn’t be a funeral or memorial. We couldn’t because of covid. She told us they would hold a “Celebration of Life” once it was safe. We still haven’t done it. We’re doing Christmas this year though, it’s safe enough for that. I’m not going.

After he died, weeks or months, I started to learn about what happened after he’d died. My dad had been helping my aunt, his sister, clean up all my uncle’s stuff, and they found out he’d been hiding a spending problem. His office was full of stuff he’d bought for hobbies he’d lost interest in. Unopened boxes and unplayed guitars - lots and lots of guitars. They found extra credit cards too, ones my aunt didn’t know about. They found so much debt.

My uncle, when he was alive, was one of the only good people in my family. That side of my family isn’t happy. They’re all angry or depressed or tightly wound, they were all on edge around each other, none of them were ever happy when I saw them, not for long, but he was. I loved him for that, I thought he was one of the only people worth the miserable Christmases.

And then I learned that he wasn’t really that. He was someone who hid his spending from his wife and left her in deep debt with closets worth of junk to show for it. He didn’t consider her when he kept getting cards to hide the problem or tell her when things got bad. And I know that’s not his fault, I know it, but it also was.

And suddenly he wasn’t the person I remembered anymore. I remember his smile so clearly and his polo shirts and his little rectangular glasses and the way his whole body shook when he laughed. But now I also had this other understanding of him. And this resentment for how he left things. And resentment too that I never got the chance to say goodbye to the wonderful, lovely, happy man I saw every year at Christmas and Canada Day, who made it worth enduring the other relatives and the crappy turkey stuffing and the decorative nutcrackers that watched you in the bathroom. I didn’t say goodbye before he became a man I didn’t like.

And it’s not his fault. He was always that way and I just didn’t know, nobody did. But I hate him for it. And I miss my uncle. And I’ll think of him anytime I see that guitar in my dad’s office, the one my aunt gave to him because she was in too much pain to sell it. And I’ll think of him at Christmas when I’m not there because as long as I’m not there he is.

Just like I’ll always think of my other aunt whenever I see her daughter. Or my friend Ryan when it’s our birthday. Or Dana when I go to Niagara-on-the-Lake or wear sweatpants on the bus. Remembering them all, too, at the strangest times. Thinking sometimes, by mistake or even when I know it’s not true, that they’re alive.

And it’s almost Christmas and I won’t see that side of the family this year because I’m seeing my mother’s family instead on the west coast. And I don’t know if I’ll ever see that side of the family again at Christmas, those unhappy people. I don’t know if I could stomach seeing that he really isn’t there. If I’m not then maybe he is.

It took one week.

[kylesvariouslistsandstuff]

Mario, Mickey, and Legacy Character Movies

A legitimate movie based on SUPER MARIO BROS., many years after getting tons of sequels and spin-offs and installments, was arguably a long-time coming. Being the most recognizable video game character, that even your grandma knows, a movie made sense going back at least two decades.

We all know about the 1993 live-action SUPER MARIO BROS. movie, and the once hard-to-find anime film from 1986… But by 2006 or so, I think the time was right for an animated Mario movie. It had been over 10 years since TOY STORY came out, CGI was at a state that was quite a step up from older plasticky movies… But Nintendo protected Mario, and its other properties, under lock and key… And it was largely because of that 1993 movie.

And now look what’s happening… As of April 19th, the roughly 90-minute all-animated THE SUPER MARIO BROS. MOVIE - made at Illumination, and directed by Aaron Horvath and Michael Jelenic - has cleared $350 million domestically and $700 million worldwide. Barely two weeks or so into release… A number most animated movies have to fight for in their entire run, or even a fraction of that! And especially in post-outbreak times, where families have narrowed down their options on what they see in a cinema every year. This thing’s locked to make a billion, possibly challenge the highest-grossing animated movie record held by the 2019 LION KING remake ($1.6 billion), it’s a Mario monster…

It’s very simple. It’s Mario… And lots of people around the world have either waited for a Mario movie, or really wanted to see a Mario movie happen, or would see a Mario movie if it did happen…

In 1993, things were different. Back then, we were at - console-wise - around 4 SUPER MARIO games. The latest one was SUPER MARIO WORLD, released in 1990. You had the handheld games, SUPER MARIO LAND and its sequel 6 GOLDEN COINS, SUPER MARIO KART as well, and a plethora of spin-offs and such. Yes, Mario was very popular back then, but you could argue some thirty years later… He’s of absolute legendary status. And also, it doesn’t help that the Mario movie deviated heavily from what general audiences think of or expect of the material. A common criticism of the 2023 movie is that it’s too much of a Mario movie, that it’s exactly what it says on the tin. To the point where it tries nothing interesting with the characters/world, while the 1993 movie seemed to go way too far the other direction. I haven’t seen THE SUPER MARIO BROS. MOVIE yet, so I cannot say, I’m just observing…

Anyways, this was a case of the planets aligning: Mario has been around since 1981, there’s been gazillions of games and merchandise and appearances, and the movie is very much a “Mario movie”… Beaucoup bucks at the box office!

And another box office win for Universal in the post-outbreak era, too… Meanwhile, the usual big dogs at Disney have been having it rough at the box office… And whenever their movies - made at either Disney Animation or Pixar - don’t break even at the box office (RAYA, ENCANTO, LIGHTYEAR, STRANGE WORLD) or they get shafted to streaming because the former CEO really wanted people to subscribe to Disney+ (TURNING RED), well… Expect lots of sequels, remakes, and franchise entry announcements. We’re only four months into this year, and Disney has announced TOY STORY 5, ZOOTOPIA 2, FROZEN III, and a live-action remake of the very recent MOANA… Projects without release dates, which are still quite far off... we know about these... But yet nothing about the movie Disney Animation is releasing in fall 2024, after WISH comes out this year... Just you watch, you’ll hear ENCANTWO after a thousand more employees are laid off. Even their ever-reliable Marvel is showing signs of slowing down, note QUANTUMANIA’s abysmal legs at the box office and subsequent failure to break even. I keep hoping ELEMENTAL and WISH turn the tides, and so on.

I think… Given that Mario is a legacy character… And Disney has plenty of legacy characters, too… Ones they tend to be overprotective of…

Who is to say Disney can’t finally let the mouse out of the cage… And give us a full-blown, theatrical, animated Mickey Mouse movie?

I mean hey, that cartoon rodent’s 100th year of existence is coming up, in 2028…

Mickey Mouse, interestingly, has had more than a few unrealized movies. You know the MICKEY AND THE BEANSTALK segment of the 1947 anthology film FUN & FANCY FREE? That half hour segment was actually planned as a feature around 1940, but World War II’s impact on the studio’s features and revenue put a dent in that plan. Other features were proposed over time, including a take on THE EMPEROR’S NIGHTINGALE in the early 1960s and a THREE MUSKETEERS adaptation in the early 1980s (funnily enough, a direct-to-video THREE MUSKETEERS movie with Mickey, Donald, and Goofy would be made and released in 2004, but it bares no resemblance to the project pitched in the ‘80s)…

Disney sometimes were very strict about Mickey Mouse. Even going back to the 1940s, there were limits imposed on him following his ascension to company mascot; hence a lot of his short films circa 1948-1953 feature him as a very easy-going “aw shucks!” suburbanite, who often plays second fiddle to Pluto getting bothered by an animal. It’s like he was the fine china, only taken out during the special occasions. And sometimes, on those special occasions… People weren’t pleased!

In 1983, Mickey made his big screen return in MICKEY’S CHRISTMAS CAROL, a Dickens adaptation that ran about a half hour and was attached to a re-release of THE RESCUERS. Really more of a training vehicle for Disney’s then-new animators, the featurette had gotten some criticism for being too safe. Then in 1990, THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER came out, which was attached to THE RESCUERS DOWN UNDER. A good number of critics felt it was “too ROGER RABBIT”, too mean, too violent, had too much of a modern attitude, etc.

Then, flash forward to 1995, RUNAWAY BRAIN! Goddamn, I love that short! While it was well-received, Disney hid this one in the depths after its quiet rollout… They even attached it to a movie that no one ever heard of… John Lasseter, upon taking over Walt Disney Animation Studios in 2006, reportedly had the thing buried. Disney were often skittish about this short because of its few moments of dark humor and some scary visuals (as if THE MAD DOCTOR and PLUTO’S JUDGMENT DAY don’t exist), but some people there really, really, really found it be sacrilege. For the reasons many of us absolutely love it!

You had those MICKEY MOUSE WORKS shorts in the late 1990s, some of those were pretty fun. They’d of course later be integrated into the equally fun HOUSE OF MOUSE, still not on Disney+ even though lots of us clamor for it to be on there… But it’s like, whenever there was stuff that got made that adults and Disney animation fans really enjoyed, then there’d be a period of dormancy. Disney pulling back, being strict about Mickey. You know how on the show BONKERS, he barely even appeared in his own episode? That was a period where they were very strict about where he’d appear, what he’d do onscreen, etc.

Then for a long while, it seemed like Mickey was but a character on merchandise and some various games and a preschool show; MICKEY MOUSE CLUBHOUSE…

That was, until, in 2013… The character really came back in a big way. First, there was the premiere of the wild and outlandishly fun Paul Rudish MICKEY MOUSE series on Disney’s TV channels… And then the 2D/3D hybrid short GET A HORSE!, which played before FROZEN in theaters and was nominated for an Oscar… Nowadays, there’s a Mickey Mouse for everyone: The preschool CG stuff (that roadster race show, the “Bow Toons”, etc.), the Rudish cartoons, and the occasional other project (like those Goofy COVID cartoons animated by Eric Goldberg)…

And, no surprise… Both Rudish Mickey and GET A HORSE! attracted criticism when they first came out. To this day, there are people who really do not like the Rudish Mickey cartoons, and GET A HORSE! got some criticism for being… Again, too mean, too violent, too this, too that… I guess that’s what happens when you sanitize a character like that for so long, that some tend to not know or even forget that there was once upon a time when Mickey Mouse was a genuine cartoon character. Late ‘20s/early ‘30s Mickey was a rascal, sometimes a real jerk! There’s also comics Mickey, Floyd Gottfredson’s works, Carl Barks’ duck stories, etc. etc. Mickey pulls a gun on Donald Duck in the 1942 short SYMPHONY HOUR!

Anyways… Where am I going with this?

Look at what happens in, say, Japan… There are over 20 Pokemon theatrical anime films… Ditto Doraemon, DETECTIVE CONAN, etc. Legacy manga/anime/game characters in Japan? Tons of movies… Over here? Only ICE AGE made it to five theatrical mainline movie not counting spin-offs. SHREK would be the winner there, but even then… Five SHREK movies and two PUSS IN BOOTS movies, that’s only seven. In Europe, it’s sometimes kind of the same deal, but across different mediums. There are plenty of ADVENTURES OF TINTIN movies, for example, some live-action, some animated, and there’s also Steven Spielberg’s movie adaptation that sadly didn’t lead to a sequel.

But yeah… In another context, there’d be a Mickey Mouse movie every couple of years and they’d dutifully make good money at the box office… But Disney hasn’t made a single theatrical full-length Mickey Mouse movie, and the character is going to be 100 in 2028… That’s kind of weird, don’t you think? Some other American legacy cartoon characters have gotten theatrical movies, and also plenty of direct-to-video movies, too. Doesn’t Scooby-Doo currently have the most? Tom and Jerry have plenty as well, including two theatrical movies. The Looney Tunes were in three live-action hybrid pictures, and there are also those compilation features Warner Bros. threw together circa 1979-1983. COYOTE VS. ACME is also coming, so, the Looney Tunes have been around when it comes to theatrical movies.

Of course, there’s the worry of “cheapening” the character, the image, the brand, etc. I get that… But part of me feels, much like how Nintendo was with Mario, Disney kind of his Mickey Mouse on a leash… I think THE SUPER MARIO BROS. MOVIE shows what kind of big money a legacy character can attract in movie form, and not some random DVD movie to throw on for the kids at home… And we see how many droves of people turn out for the live-action/CG remakes of the classic animated movies. Those always make me wonder what would’ve happened if THE RESCUERS DOWN UNDER didn’t lose money in 1990/91, and Disney made a few theatrical sequels to their megabits in the late ‘90s/early ‘00s - NOT direct-to-video sequels. Like, how big would an in-house LION KING II have been in theaters circa 1998/99? Or an ALADDIN sequel? Well, that ship had long sailed, so we get the remakes of those movies now… But as far as Disney legacy characters go… Mickey, Donald, and Goofy have yet to star in a feature-length animated movie…

[earthbreadandtendrils]

Rules + Info

Read under the cut. This is Rules to follow and info about me to know! as well as Verses and more...

I might try a stab at carrd one day, but for now this is it. Also new rules and updates are added too!

Two things you MUST know about me;

I am 30+ years old and I'd rather rp with people who are at least 20 or older. 18 is my hard limit [but still hella iffy for me]. I do not wish to roleplay with minors due to me enjoying darker themes, and it just being a general preference. This also being said, If you refuse to show your age, I will assume you are a minor, and will not interact with you.

I Do not want smut. I have no interest in the lemons. Only character interaction regardless if it's with Cannon IP characters [divergent or not] or OCS/fan characters, etc. It Does not matter, no is no. The end. The only thing I'm okay with is slow-burn Romance/chemistry and fluff. Attempt to guilt me into smut and you risk being blocked.

Other info;

◘ I am a neurodivergent [Severe ADHD], I tend to make a lot of mistakes, I am blunt, and can be quite forgetful. Please do give me reminders every so often, but not every day, and not every hour. Also, I sadly lose interest if a person takes months to reply. Even tho I do understand we all work [I do too], please just try not to keep me waiting too long. Otherwise, I suggest that we close the thread. [However, there are rare moments where I won’t lose interest. Depends on the situation, really.] ◘ I am NB fem, and Asexual. If you are Acephobic, DNI.Note: If you are just confused or unsure about Asexuals, then I recommend this video to understand us better. ◘ I’m not big on grammar, especially given that I have some really bad quirks myself when it comes to writing. [like random capitalization, strange phrasing, and a few other things]. I hope to get better and learn from other skilled writers as I go, I tend to try and mimic my partner’s writing style as best as I can. What I don’t do is the fancy text stuff. But I will add the occasional picture or two, make headers, etc [I am an artist]. But I also do expect you to try your best and at least not write like how someone fires off a half-assed text on their phone like how I saw back in 2011. Simple enough, right? *However, if you are the kind of person who has to nitpick at every little mistake someone makes, then you are not my type. I already feel bad about my writing skills enough already. I just want to have fun. That is it. ◘ BE BLUNT WITH ME, because I will be blunt with you. Ask what you want and do not beat around the bush. I can't be a good RP partner if you don’t tell me what you are looking for. The worst that could happen is that I say no. And if I’m doing something you don’t like? Just DM me and say it. I want to trust my partner is not going to be a pushover, or accidentally come off as two-faced in my eyes. I do not care if it makes me upset, the bottom line is that you are being honest with me, and honesty goes a long way, it can even build a good and healthy friendship. JUST DON'T ABUSE IT TO MANIPULATE ME! * One of my biggest pet peeves is when people don't say shit. ◘ My discord is open if you wish to do more private roleplays or plotting, I can set up a private server for us as well if you don’t want your friends list being spammed by people you don’t want to be friends with. We can use it to discuss the plot, and maybe even write something together for the people on Tumblr to see. I love an invested RP partner [or partners]. Just DM me for my discord if interested. ◘ Reblog Karma; please try to pratice it, and reblog any ask memes from OP [ the original poster ]. ◘ If I do not think we will vibe or believe you are not for me, I will probably just block you. There is just specific type of rpers I avoid.

Drama? I hardly know her! But realtalk? I’d rather block and move on with my day. Do not get me involved. I don’t tolerate petty shit. I just want to have fun. And if you try to control me you will get the boot. Main or not.

Yes and Nos

[ More may be added later ]

Yes's

◘ You may send asks Anon or not. You can also do so IC ◘ I allow Magic Anons [ M!A ] Which would be referred to as "anomalous events", but I'm also allowed to reject them. ◘ The [ “Indulgent Vanity” ── * Open Thread" ] Is for anyone to respond to as long as you are a roleplay [RPC] account ◘ I will rp with a fandomless character as long as they have a CRK AU. ◘ Fluff, flirting, and teasing are fine. Just no smut.

◘ Rping Duplicates is fine for me. Ill give you a chance. But my mains are the priority. I also do not mind rping with dups either. I like to see other people's depictions.

NO's

◘ Crossovers. Not even CRK Aued ones. I just find it weird, sorry! ◘ Personal blogs. You will be blocked if you try to RP with me, but feel free to watch though. ◘ Drama. You start shit? You get blocked. I have 0 tolerance. This includes "High school drama" people! ◘ Minors or Ageless blogs. To the ageless blogs; If I don't know your age, I do not want to interact with you. If you try to lie, I will block you. If you try to rp with me, I will block you. ◘ pro-shipping or forced shipping Note: Pro-shipping has a bad reputation, and I can’t stand people who allow P*dophilic or in*est shipping. As for forced shipping? It is technically harassment. This is a big no for me fam. I’ll probably just block you without warning if I see it. ◘ Smut or fetish posting [ especially Mpreg ]. If you fail to tag your fetishises, I will Ask you to tag it, but if you make it an issue, then I will unfollow + block. ◘ Fetish/kink mining = Hard block. [ If you don't know what it is; it is involving other people in one's kinks without their knowledge. ] ◘ Headcannon Gatekeeping:

SHIPPING

OKAY. TBH, Romantic Shippping is off the table. Unless you are someone I know very well or you are a main of mine that has been with me for a while.

This is a big one. Shipping is something I'm always antsy with and struggle to trust anyone with unless we are friends. I am sensitive about this stuff.

◘ If you are a multi-shipper, I have no issues, as long as you don't involve your other ships with what we have going on ( unless I say otherwise), like if your character is shipped with mine? Then keep it in my verse and with others who are involved with me, do not involve others outside of mine into my verse/plot (unless I say otherwise and everyone involved agrees to it!). Respect my space and i'll respect yours. ( If you are confused on this feel free to talk me, so I may explain it in another way. ) ◘ Personally, I can't multi ship, it feels weird when I do it. So I am a one ship type. I will not multi ship. But don't feel like you have to do the same, Just respect what I had stated above and we will be fine! I also do not multi-ship with dups. ◘ My mains are people who are automatically allowed to bring up my ships in dash comms and in others rps. (Because i trust them). ◘ I love slow burns. I eat that shit up. I love character development between characters. It helps me be more invested. ◘ If you are expecting smut, don't try to do ships with me. The answer will always be NO.

~ Basic RP rules ~

No god-modding my stuff [ unless given the okay on the said situation ]

Note: Godmodding in its simplest terms is controlling another player's character without their permission. By imposing your will on their character without their permission, you are gaining 'godlike' or 'divine' powers, hence the origin of the term.

Do Not Auto (Auto hit, Auto walk, etc) my characters 

[ unless given the okay on the said situation ]

Note: It is self-explanatory, but it goes under God-modding too.

No metagaming [ unless given the okay on the said situation ]

Note: In tabletop role-playing games, metagaming can refer to aspects of play that occur outside of a given game's fictional universe. In particular, metagaming often refers to having an in-game character act on knowledge that the player has access to, but the character should not.

Do not powerplay [ unless given the okay on the said situation ]

Note: Powerplaying is when a player manipulates their character's abilities, powers or skills so that their character always has an advantage in the situation. This could be as simple as always knowing the best spell or having a black belt in every type of martial art known to man.

Verses and Aus

So to put it shortly; I’m a one-verse type of person. I prefer to stick with one verse because I get confused and mix things up easily, also I like to make a story when I do. Which means I usually like to group people into specific places.

I’ll have a Main verse and then there will be AUs, and they will be tagged as such.

This means;

◘ If you are involved in my main verse and wish to RP with other people who are not directly involved; I ask you not to include others who are NOT involved in my main verse, especially if there are already established relationships and plots existing. This goes both ways. ◘ Communication is number one. If you are unsure about something, then talk to me. This includes character involvement or plot, verses, aus, etc.   ◘ If you do rp with others, please make sure to tag your rp as something else, let be another verse or an AU, or give my verse your own unique tag so I know what I need to pay attention to, thank you. ◘ I do not care if you have other verses or aus or duplicates that you rp with, as long as you don’t force me to be involved in it, and that it also does not interfere with what we have going on, because I’m not comfortable with it, period. ◘ If you have issues with a person I rp with, we can talk about it, but I can’t promise anything, because If it’s with the mains that I rp with, then there might be an issue between us since they are people I vibe with so well. ◘ If you start drama with my mains and cause anything to try and disrupt the peace? You will be promptly removed and hard-blocked. I’m just trying to have fun and just make my stories with ppl who want to be involved. I have 0 tolerance for that high school drama BS.

* This is new due to unfortunate circumstances that occurred;

If you are a main of mine and try to control me and tell me who I am to be cordial with, you will be promptly removed. You do not control me and who I talk to, you only have power who gets voted in as one of my mains. No matter the situation. This also goes both WAYS! Respect each other no matter how much you disagree with those you rp with outside of the main circle!

I will not let this happen again.

[planetconfession]

I fell in love with someone during my separation. He bought content from me one time and I never keep close relationships/friendships with customers but he just felt different and I was lonely and he was so different and handsome to me, the prettiest brown eyes I’d ever seen and he was silly and made me laugh and feel like myself in a way I hadn’t for a long time and that led into months of non stop talking and long amazing phone calls. We ended up meeting once briefly while he was visiting a friend in my state, seeing him in person was a feeling I’ll never let go of. We were very intimate and passionate and it felt so good. I’ve been listed after my whole life but it has been so long since I’d been touched like that or looked at like that. Everything was all happening so fast and unexpected. I ended up pulling away out of fear and confusion and lied to him about the reasons why but ultimately was honest that I just needed time to get myself in order as I was going through a lot of personal turmoil. I had two kids and a business I needed to make profitable to survive and an abusive ex partner I was navigating custody with. It started to feel like all he wanted was sexual intimacy and wasn’t interested or able to be patient and pull back and slow down the way I needed. So I gave in and would try keeping him satisfied but I knew it felt wrong I was going through too much. He ultimately said he needed to delete all my pictures and not think of me like that if I wanted to be his friend I guess in order for him to be a friend to me he couldn’t want me sexually which I tried to understand, I said I understood but I didn’t understand and it hurt so bad. I never said I didn’t want him I was so clearly obsessed with him and into him and trying to be an adult about a complex situation knowing I couldn’t give him exactly what he wanted right then, but it wasn’t like he was interested in someone else, not that I knew of. He told me he was in love with me and I don’t take that shit lightly. I said it back because I did and I do but I felt guilty asking him to wait or give me more time so I let him go and he went. I’m low key well known here / tumblr famous and don’t let people get close to me out of the assumption they only want one thing from me. I am not vulnerable with anyone and I stupidly let my entire guard down around this person. I’ve had little fluffy online flings and friendships I’d romanticized as many of us do but this was so epically different. He felt like home. Now we’ve just grown further and further apart. I’ve wanted to reach out to him and tell him I’m sorry and love him and I was scared but my bad obsessive brain cyber stalked him and realized he was actively and like aggressively trying to replace me with other woman, I found out he likes younger women (not like inappropriate) but age gap interests none the less. He immediately went to flirting and liking girls pictures and like I don’t know. We all heal differently I guess but I guess I’ve come to terms I’m not really what he wanted. He deserves someone who will give him kids and a life I couldn’t, a less complicated partner. I think I could have loved him forever though, in this moment it feels like I might. It’s been a little over two months. I feel hopeless and heartbroken and hope I can eventually stop checking up on him and move on. Looking at anyone else still makes me feel sick though. He’s all I want but I’m not all he wants. So it is what it is. Maybe one day we can be friends..but I think that’s just what people say to hide from the agony and truth that you’ve lost someone.

Thanks for creating a safe space for me to vent that out.

.