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jackdraw-spwrite · 1 year ago

Text

By Storm, By Claw, By Sanguine Moon

Chapter 2

For Ectoberhaunt day 19 - Claw (originally for Phantasy Phest)

Words: 6729 Characters: Maddie Fenton, Jack Fenton Warnings: Body horror (of the skin breaking, bone cracking variety)

Once again, this fic is a collaboration between multiple authors! The others are: @akela-nakamura, @datawyrms, @seaglass-skies, and @five-rivers.

Read it on AO3 or below the readmore:

The rain didn’t let up.

All through the night it poured, and Maddie wondered if she should revise her estimate of the weather controller’s power or intelligence downward. Or both.

On the other hand, maybe this was a concerted effort to wear them out before the eclipse even happened.

The power at Fentonworks was still out, despite their best efforts and their nearest neighbors (who were admittedly further away than average - some people just couldn’t stand the slight inconveniences that came with advancing science) being just fine. The sunrise had also found Maddie with a rash at her joints. Some damp must have gotten past the waterproofing. Or maybe the sweat-wicking layer wasn’t up to snuff anymore. Once the power was back on, she’d have to wash the whole thing and check. As for Jack, he’d been complaining of a sore back off and on all morning.

“Try it now!” called Jack from where he’d wedged the upper half of his body into the electrical maintenance box that the city had installed between them and the power grid when�� Well, it had hardly been their fault, but the city didn’t see it that way.

Maddie flipped the main power switch in the circuit box back and forth. “Nothing!” she called.

“Hey, Mom?” called Danny from near the door. “We’re going to Tucker’s, since they have power, okay?”

“Okay,” said Maddie, distracted, waving over her shoulder even though she knew he wouldn’t see her. “Have fun!”

“Okay, this time, I’ve got it!” said Jack. “Go ahead!”

Jack had not got it, and now Maddie could hear him grumbling. “Maybe we ought to switch,” she suggested.

“I’m going to the library!” yelled Jazz, not waiting for an answer before slamming the front door behind her.

Really. What were she and Jack supposed to do about that? Well. They’d have to talk eventually. During dinner, maybe?

“One more time, Maddie, one more time!”

Maddie flipped the switch again. This time, the power turned on, and she smiled with relief. At least something was going right this time.

“Great job, Jack! Now we can check the Fenton Devilry Detector readouts!”

They went down into the lab, where the machinery was still gradually humming to life. Monsters frequently had many natural defenses against observation, going far beyond mere camouflage, so Jack and Maddie had to be as clever about finding them as they were about catching them. Some monsters could only be detected by the oldest technology, others by the newest. Some required brand new inventions.

Jack and Maddie could hardly spend all their time monitoring all that equipment all around town, though, so they’d automated their detectors, and made machines to monitor their machines, and programs to collate the data. It was all very complicated, and sent their electricity bill through the roof. It was worth it, though, to know that even creatures that could only be photographed on archaic silver plate couldn’t evade notice because of it. Especially because the monsters like that had to be full of hubris that they’d never be caught. But they would, one day.

Because the Fentons were prepared.

However, it turned out that such a system didn’t hold up well against ordinary human vandalism, storms, or even time. For example, a machine that operated a polaroid on a timer, then took a picture of the resultant polaroid to send back to the Fentonwork’s servers had many points of failure. As such, Maddie wasn’t surprised to see that the main screen was covered in red OFFLINE notifications.

But visual monitoring wasn’t the only kind. They had others, as well. Things akin to seismometers but for certain kinds of magic. They had microphones and EMF readers but these were not what Maddie was looking for. Maddie was looking for something specific.

Through hard-fought trial and error, she and Jack had discovered something critical: Magic didn’t behave like light. It didn’t, precisely, behave as a gas either. But that analogy was closer.

Magic left traces. Magic built up, and magic lingered. They might not be able to watch everything across the city, but when they needed to look for evidence of foul play, they could compare readings in the local ambient magic.

It was this system, that Jack had named the Fenton Devilry Detector, in honor of his ancestor, whose writings had given them the foundation for its construction, that Maddie and Jack rebooted now.

There were no overnight readings logged, an unfortunate consequence of their lab being offline. But the system had been functional right up until the power outage, and what the graphs showed was unmistakable.

“It’s centered right on the house,” said Maddie, tracing the massive spike in detected magic with one finger. Although, calling it a spike might have been inaccurate. Magic levels around Fentonworks in particular, and even Amity Park in general, had always been high, and had been building gradually for months - no doubt due to the monsters that used it finally recognizing Jack and Maddie as a threat. This, though… This was far in excess of even that. This was a sudden, severe change that, if Maddie was reading this right, had pulsed in time with the storm overhead.

It could only be an attack.

An attack, not only on Jack and Maddie, but their family.

Maddie picked at her lower lip, already trying to determine the best way to safeguard her children. Keeping them both home until they figured everything out would be… Well, it would be ideal, but the government wouldn’t see it that way, and from historical evidence, neither would Jazz and Danny. (Especially, Jazz, right now. After last night’s fight, Maddie had no idea where she stood with her daughter.) And whoever had attacked had clearly known about Fentonworks, and had known how to get around at least some of their protections. Talismans might work, if they could get the kids to wear them… Capturing the monsters would be better, but despite Jack’s confidence, they couldn’t count on that yet.

She itched at her elbow.

At least the kids would be safe during the day.

Jack groaned loudly, and started vigorously scratching his stomach. “I don’t know about you, Maddie, but I think some water got into my suit. It’s definitely not sensitive skin safe anymore, oh boy!”

“I have noticed some itching this morning,” Maddie frowned. “I was hoping it was only my suit that had failed. If yours has too, it might be a materials issue. Why don’t we set these aside for testing?”

“Don’t have to ask me twice!” Jack said, cheerful despite still itching at his stomach. Maddie pulled out two new jumpsuits for them, checking to see when they’d last been inspected and had their various protections redone.

Jack pulled out several pieces of testing equipment. He had to pause a couple times to rub his back against the corner of the wall like a bear scratching on a tree. Maddie frowned and hurried to get Jack a new suit. She could feel the itch spreading as well, and had to stop herself from starting to scratch at her neck.

She passed Jack his new jumpsuit, and went to go change in the small decontamination chamber’s locker room. She took a bag in with her, and placed her defective suit inside. Whatever was wrong with it, they didn’t want it to get even more contaminated before they had a chance to analyze it, and they didn’t want whatever had caused it to break down to spread.

Also, they’d been up all night, and they needed to sleep. Leaving the damaged jumpsuits and trusting they’d just remember which ones they were was just tempting trouble.

Maddie inspected her skin. There was a slight rash, but nothing terribly alarming. Still, better to be safe than sorry. She picked up the Fenton Decontamination and Exfoliation Wash, a body wash she and Jack had developed that was designed to purge negative magical influences. It itself contained ‘magical’ substances, but, well, decontamination procedures were never perfect.

For more severe cases of contamination, for example, being struck directly by an effect, or ensnarement by one of the more infectious monsters they knew to exist, there were other measures. Some simple, if tedious, like smudging or ritual purification, others… more dangerous, if not less necessary.

It was important to plan for such things, in as dangerous a line of work as they had chosen.

She lathered it over the first the rash, and then the rest of her body. Something had gotten through the protections of the suit enough to irritate her skin at the joints. It was likely trace amounts had found their way elsewhere, and she just hadn’t reacted yet.

It was best to be thorough, with these things.

The wash stung as she rubbed it into the irritated skin, like aloe vera on sunburn.

She stepped out of the shower, patting her hair dry. Jack was still in, and she decided to wait for him. As tired as she was, she didn’t want to touch any of their more involved projects. This wasn’t the first time she’d pulled an all-nighter, but she and Jack hadn’t slept much lately. Preparations for the eclipse were taking longer than they’d expected. Tools disappeared or were misplaced. Plans were miscommunicated or derailed by distractions. Rather, that’s what seemed to be happening on the surface.

Not for the first time, she wondered if someone was interfering deliberately. Or rather, how many were, and who.

Some of the monsters they’d gotten ahold of had told them things in an effort to weasel out of what was coming. Nothing that could be trusted implicitly, of course. Every monster was a practiced liar, even the ones that couldn’t. Especially the ones that couldn’t.

(There were ways to lie, she knew, while technically telling the truth.)

But enough to wonder, especially about certain more active members of the infestation creeping in this town.

Like Phantom.

Her eyes wandered up to a poster she and Jack had pinned to the wall a few weeks ago. It had been part of a presentation they’d made hoping they could convince the children that monsters, especially fairies, especially that one that loitered around the school, no doubt hoping to find easy kidnapping victims, weren’t to be trusted.

The poster featured a mock up of what their research suggested fairies of that type really looked like under the glamours. The small monsters appeared pretty and harmless, but that appearance was much like the lure of an anglerfish, designed only to draw in victims.

Fairies were small, ugly, insectoid things. Their bodies were segmented, covered in hair-like filaments and exoskeletal plates. Their mouths were grotesqueries that fused canine-like teeth with oversized mandibles. Their wings, instead of being brightly patterned, were likely drab, tattered things, possibly even covered with oily, beetle-like wing cases. Instead of hands, they had long, scythe-like claws that lacked an opposable digit entirely. Even their large eyes, so good at conveying innocence, were in truth more like the bulging, compound eyes of a fly.

Without magic and humans to deceive with it, fairies would be no better than cockroaches. Small, useless things, scuttling in the dark.

But they did have magic, and they did use it to trick humans. Especially human children, which even so-called fairy tales agreed were their favorite prey.

The fairy in the poster was a fairy like that, drawn in detail by Jack and labeled lovingly by Maddie. Jazz and Danny had barely looked at it before dismissing it.

(Her kids had been so dismissive of their work, lately. Everything she and Jack did was met with disbelief. They were nearly scornful of it.)

Maddie sighed and turned away– Then froze. She’d thought– But, no, it had just been a warped reflection in the glass of one of the older computer monitors. They really needed to find a better place for that.

Before she could start to compile a list of better places, Jack came out of the shower, towel wrapped around his head. She smiled. She remembered when Vlad taught them how to do that, back in college.

“Man,” said Jack. “I’m beat. Makes you wish monsters knew what bedtime was, huh?”

“Now, now, Jack,” said Maddie playfully, “if they knew what bedtime was, they wouldn’t stay out where we could catch them half as often.” She patted his shoulder and hid a wince as her suit dragged painfully against the rash at her shoulder. “Let’s get to bed. We’ll be ready to take on all the monsters in the world when we get up.”

Maddie was not ready to take on all the monsters in the world when she woke up. She must have strained herself much more than she’d thought before bed. She hadn’t even run for all that long. But clearly, her muscles disagreed. They protested as she reached for her alarm clock, and she contemplated simply returning to sleep.

But that had never helped with muscle soreness in her experience, and she wanted to catch at least some of the remaining afternoon light, sodden as it was. The work was worth it, of course. But Maddie had never taken well to nocturnal hours on the occasions they’d been required. She’d always been more of an early bird than Jack, and daylight had always made her feel more balanced. She left both her earplugs and her sleeping husband in the bedroom and padded downstairs.

The bottom floor was deserted. The house was quiet with the door to their bedroom shut, and light filtered through the windows in the living room. The couch with its soft cushions was inviting, but Maddie went up the stairs to the roof. There, she settled on the damp edge of the cornice and took a sip, waiting for it to return life to her body.

The kids were probably still out. Maddie could see that Jazz’s car was gone, and Danny loved spending time with his friends.

Despite the stresses of the last day, Maddie smiled. That boy and his friends. They really were as thick as thieves, always out doing something or other. Or in. She couldn’t quite understand the appeal of shooting demons in a video game when you could be going out and doing it in the real world, but she more than approved of the sentiment.

She itched at the crook of her elbow, then pulled a face. Rubbing already irritated skin would only make it worse, even with the soft lining of her jumpsuit.

She finished her coffee, then did some stretches to help with the soreness before returning downstairs. She was hungry, and Jack would be too when he woke. Maybe she could order out Chinese?

She certainly didn't feel like cooking—she could admit, to herself, that she wasn't great at it. She idly opened the drawer with all the local menus, and started digging for the Chinese menu. Her fingers, she noted, ached slightly with the movement.

In fact, she was still pretty sore all over, the stretching having only helped for a short while.

Ah, well. It would fade. It always did. She shook some stiffness out of her joints and dialed the place.

A few minutes later, she went back upstairs to nudge Jack awake. It always took him a little bit to drag himself out of bed, and if he started now he might be downstairs by the time the food arrived.

Maddie didn’t bother saying his name as she pushed open the door; she’d never seen Jack wake to a sound for as long as they’d been married. Instead, she opened the blinds, pulled the blankets down, peeled his sleeping mask off, and–

…frowned.

There was a rash around his eyes. More, it didn’t look like any rash she’d ever seen.

She shook him.

“Bwuh,” Jack said, face screwed up as he grappled with wakefulness.

“Jack,” she said. “There’s something on your face.”

“Sleeping mask,” he said, and tried rolling over.

She didn’t let him. “Jack,” she repeated. “I think the rash is getting worse.”

"Feels worse," he said. "Think'm dying."

"Jack Fenton, you are not dying."

"How do you know," said Jack. "I hurt all over."

"So do I. We're sick, Jack. Not dying." She hoped.

"Brave woman. Steel will. S'no wonder I married you. Be a fool not to."

Maddie sighed in exasperation and fondness. That was Jack for you, still complimenting her while claiming to be on his deathbed.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," she said.

"It got me you."

"Jaaack," Maddie said. "Fine, you flatterer. What do you want?"

"Five more minutes?" he asked hopefully.

"I'm setting a timer." Maddie got up to leave, and paused in the doorway. "If you're not up by the time dinner gets here, I'm eating your orange chicken."

A few minutes later, Maddie heard the stairs creak under Jack's feet. A few moments later he appeared in the kitchen doorway, slumped dramatically against the frame.

"Maddie," he said. "I think we've been cursed."

Maddie put another glass away. "Why?" she asked.

"No illness could lay Jack Fenton low like this," he said, too strained to say it with his usual excitement.

"Except for the flu eight years ago," Maddie gently reminded him.

"That was pixies."

"Mmmm," said Maddie, unwilling to start that argument again while nursing a full body ache. She’d checked. Multiple times. It had been the flu, and not anything supernatural.

"And this feels too sudden. And so soon after the attack on our generator..."

"Mmmm," Maddie said again, but with a much different tone.

Jack had a point. On the other hand, running around in the rain at all hours was a much more mundane explanation. They weren’t as young as they used to be. And while their suits should have protected them from the cold and damp, they already knew the material had failed to protect them in at least one way.

"Maybe," she said at last. "Why don't we run those tests once the food gets here? The kids aren't home, so we could eat in the lab."

Jack laughed, but there was a pained edge to it. “Yeah, no Jazz to scold us, huh? Ah. Hah.”

Maddie pressed her lips into a thin line. “Hopefully, they’ll be back soon,” she said, rather than addressing what Jack was clearly thinking. With how upset Jazz was, it was more likely that she’d give them the cold shoulder than scold them.

Or maybe not. It was becoming apparent that she didn’t know her daughter as well as she’d thought. Either of her children, really, she reflected, thinking back on some of Danny’s… odder behavior, recently. She didn’t understand it at all.

They really needed to have that talk.

“Right!” said Jack, finally managing an exclamation point. “To the lab to figure out what felonious fairy is behind our feeble feelings!”

Oh, Jack. He always knew how to cheer Maddie up.

Down to the lab they went.

Usually, the lab felt welcoming. It was as familiar and lived-in to Maddie as the living room upstairs. Usually, the clean lighting, clutter, occult diagrams, and metal tables were just as much a comfort as the dozens of experiments plugging, percolating, or maturing away on the tables. It always felt like protection. It always felt like progress. Progress of knowledge, of their bulwark against the things that stalked the night.

But tonight Maddie felt all of the weight of dirt, concrete, and metal overhead, pressing down, as if to bury them alive.

Ominous and suffocating.

Like a coffin.

Maddie took a deep breath. She hated being sick.

“Ooh,” said Jack. “This is a bad curse. We’ve got to figure it out right away!”

"What makes you say that?" Maddie asked.

"Queasy," said Jack. "And I think my claustrophobia is kicking in. I forgot I had that, after that one time we had that abandoned mine dropped on us."

"I'm feeling that, too." Maddie frowned. But what would trigger those memories? Why would a curse give them a rash and a mild case of claustrophobia? Maybe the creature that cursed them just hadn’t been very strong. Or maybe the curse had been stronger, but their protections had deflected most of it.

Or it wasn't a curse. They hadn't confirmed it yet, after all. And there was more than one way for monsters to hurt humans.

They pulled the suits out of storage. Preparations were interrupted by the arrival of food, but shortly they had takeout boxes at one table, and their compromised suits on another.

(As Jack said, if those monsters thought they’d be stopped by this, they had another thing coming.)

Jack, eagerly following his theory, was assembling their collection of more occult and mystical devices. Most of them would have limited utility in examining the suits, but… Maddie sighed, fondly. Jack would get everything sorted out. From outside, his process might seem chaotic, but he always got fascinating results.

Maddie, for her part, had on her set of magnifying goggles and was going over the inside of her suit inch by inch, starting with the edges and seams. With gloves, of course. While she was assuming the cause of the rash was irritation due to water getting inside the suit lining, assumptions didn’t rule out other causes, like unexpected chemical reactions, or even the curse Jack was so sure of.

So far she hadn’t found any tears. If there weren’t any, she’d take samples of the inner lining to test for common skin irritants. That would be truly tedious work. There were enough chemical irritants in the world that it was quite possible that she’d never figure it out, and have to leave it as a mystery… Unless it also happened to another suit. That would be an unacceptable mystery, and a real danger to herself and Jack.

“Maddie!”

“Hm?” said Maddie, looking up. She experienced a moment of vertigo, and raised her hand to remove her magnifying goggles. “What is it?”

“Look!” He pointed, and Maddie traced his finger to the Fenton branded All-Things-Thaumaturgy Amplified Quantifier.

Maddie inhaled sharply. “Is that…?”

“That’s the reading for the suit,” said Jack, gesturing with the modified microphone attached to the Quantifier. He pointed it at himself, and the line on its graph leapt into the stratosphere. “And that’s me.”

Maddie cursed softly under her breath. “Let me take a look at my readings,” she said, rolling her chair over.

They were the same.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” asked Jack. “This isn’t an instant curse. This is something that’s stuck, and stuck hard.”

Maddie leaned back in her chair, musing over the readings. There was an urgency building in her, but she had to think. Curses were dangerous, wild things, governed by the will and wording of the one who cast it. Curses that didn’t show up immediately, that stuck and built, were especially dangerous—and unpredictable. They weren’t easy to get rid of, nor were they easy to understand.

They had to be methodical about this. They had to find out the nature of the curse, and who cast it. She steeled herself, and looked back at her husband.

”Alright,” said Maddie, “we can narrow down the kind of curse… or at least diagnose the symptoms. From there, we can cross-reference cures, loopholes, and probable perpetrators with our library.”

“Well, feeling awful is one,” said Jack. “Plus the claustrophobia.”

“Maybe a cave or tunnel based creature, then? Like with the mine?” Maddie shook her head. “That doesn’t line up with the storm. And I don’t know why something like that would give us rashes of all things.” She set her elbow on the work bench and leaned forward. “Speaking of which, I really don’t like the look of the rash around your eyes. If we can’t figure out the cause, soon, we might have to focus on stopping the spread.”

“Rash around my eyes?” repeated Jack. He walked over to one of the sinks, and peered into the mirror. “What rash around my eyes?”

He jolted a bit, when he looked into the mirror. The rash had spread, past the rounds of his goggles. It drifted down his cheekbones, climbed his forehead, and was thicker around his eyes themselves. Concern shot down Maddie’s spine—she hadn’t realized how bad it’d gotten. It still didn’t look like any rash she’d seen before. It wasn’t red or inflamed, but it was undeniably a rash. The fact that it had gotten worse, despite showers and new suits, was alarming.

“Oh,” Jack said, blinking in the mirror. He snapped on a new glove, and gently touched the rash. “This is not a good look! Is this a reaction from the curse’s magic with our suits?”

Maddie hummed, even as she grabbed a sterile swab, and a new set of gloves for herself. She stepped over to Jack, running the swab over the rash before putting it into the sterile test tube.

“Maybe,” she said finally. “Take a sample from your goggles, and let’s see if there’s an environmental factor—this rain has been relentless.”

Jack did so, with much less of his usual gusto. Maddie couldn’t blame him—she felt tired and weighed down. Despite having slept for so long, and barely doing anything in the lab, she felt she could easily take another nap.

She couldn’t. They couldn’t. With the eclipse coming, and a curse to solve, they didn’t have time for more sleep. If they couldn’t fix the curse by the time the eclipse arrived, everything they’d worked for would be lost. This was literally a once in a lifetime opportunity!

They had to keep moving, to figure this out.

“Some dastardly monster thinks they can stop us,” Jack muttered, not able to get his usual volume. “A curse has never stopped a Fenton, and it won’t now.”

Maddie smiled to herself, even as she ran tests on the sample she’d taken from Jack’s rash. They wouldn’t be stopped.

Whatever evil being had cursed them, they’d soon regret it!

The curse was harder to pin down than expected. Usually it was a place that was afflicted with these sorts of monsters- cursing actual people took much more power and nefarious intent.

Even so, curses generally exerted their power through something. Effigies. Inscriptions. Sound. Blood. Sometimes more than one. If they could find that part of the curse, destroy that part of the curse, then the curse would start to unravel.

But they hadn’t found anything. Not yet.

At least they had been able to rule out the whole family being a target. Much as Jazz and Danny did their best to duck lifesaving checks, they got enough readings to feel a weight lift from their hearts. It was bad enough that some foul beast was after them without it threatening their children.

Danny’s readings were still uncomfortably high, but not in a new way. Jazz almost seemed like she might also be a target, but her contamination levels plummeted while theirs crept higher. Neither child was struggling with itches or food going foul in their mouths, a huge relief. They could put their whole attention on solving the curse much faster when not at risk of endangering the kids further.

A few days later, Maddie sighed as she took the final step down into the lab, and immediately headed into the corner to peel her wet jumpsuit off.

The rain was heavy today, coming down in fat, icy droplets that sank into the jumpsuit's cloth and stayed there, chilling the skin. By the time she'd finished setting up the battery of traps in the park woodlands, she'd felt icy herself and had been hard pressed to keep her hands steady against the cold.

The curse had made them allergic to the Fenton patented anti-moisture, sweat-wicking formula for sensitive skin, which wouldn't be a huge problem–except it was how they'd waterproofed all their jumpsuits. They'd had to switch to unfinished jumpsuits without the coating–and therefore, without the wet weather protection.

Needless to say, Maddie was looking forward to warming up.

A hot decontamination shower and a toweling later, she reached for a fresh jumpsuit–and froze.

The skin of her arm hadn't changed much from that morning. It was still the same scaly, angry red that covered most of her extremities. But there was something off about the movement of her forearm.

Slowly this time, Maddie repeated the action, making sure to watch her forearm as she did.

There.

It was smooth.

Not the skin. The skin was still rough from the rash. But beneath it–beneath it. Her forearm was smooth.

Maddie was a woman of science, but she was also a woman of action. She trained regularly, she kept herself fit enough to keep up with the human wrecking ball that was Jack. She fought using any number of weapons but liked staves especially, which gave her exceptional muscle development in her forearms.

She fluttered her fingers, and the back of her forearm remained motionless.

Maddie was a woman of action, and her forearm should have had enough muscle definition to see the individual muscles controlling the extension of each finger.

Should have. Usually, did have.

It did not.

Eyes could be fooled, especially while cursed. Instead of making assumptions, she let science find the truth.

The scanner showed dense plates of tissue forming beneath their skin.

They made a grocery run before the curse worsened. They didn't know how bad it would get, after all, and this way they wouldn't need to worry about food for a little while.

Jack was silent in the checkout line. Maddie felt stares prickle at her skin and pretended not to notice the way the cashier's eyes darted to the rash crawling up Maddie's cheek.

When they left, the rain was still coming down in a quiet rush. The sensation of droplets trailing down her face flared into burning when they made contact with the rash. With Jack unable to be as boisterous as he normally was, it felt like they’d lost the sun twice over. The burning pain was an unwelcome substitute in the gloom.

There was something watching them from reflections. It skittered in the corners of their vision, always careful, never quite slow enough to properly see. Or to shoot at.

Maddie saw the nebulous shadow of it in her peripheral vision as she soldered some final details on another set of traps, and pretended she had not.

Belatedly, she felt the hairs of her neck prickle.

She set the piece she was working on to the side, and reached for another, concentrating on the corners of her vision hard enough to make her eyes ache. After a moment, she eased her thumb off the on switch. She didn't need to stab herself with a fully heated soldering iron while trying to finally get a good look at the thing cursing them.

Quietly, she mimed continuing with her work, setting aside a few more pieces as she waited. It shouldn't have been convincing, but the shadow lingered. Apparently, it could be fooled. Good to know. She could make out more details, now. Too many appendages, too long. Huge, larger than she was.

A smear of red where the eyes would be. Similar, then, to Phantom's true form.

Maddie thought of her gun, holstered at her side.

Maddie thought of empathetic magic, and their research on how it might work. On how they thought that something projecting an image elsewhere might still be vulnerable to harm done to the reflection.

Finally, Maddie thought about the curse.

In one smooth blur she dropped the soldering iron, grabbed the gun, took aim, and fired at the thing cursing them–

And was left lightheaded from the sudden rush of adrenaline, arm out and gun pointed at–

At the charred divot in the sheet metal armoring the walls of the lab, directly in the center of her own head's reflection.

Nothing.

It was nothing.

But–if Phantom or something like it was channeling this magic through reflections, through their reflections, maybe that was something.

Maybe it could be disrupted.

They covered mirrors, painted the stainless steel of the laboratory walls, even hid glass.

It didn't work.

The first time it happened, they thought it was a fluke. A result of improper weapons safety due to their single minded focus on the curse. Jack had placed one of their newer weapons on the table, a thing of gleaming metal, automatic aim, salt and iron ammunition, and an alert function. It was as yet unnamed, but compact and efficient. It was a favorite of Maddie’s.

But Jack had placed it down, and Maddie had found herself catching a glimpse of a red laser, hearing the humming whine of the auto aim—and she ducked, just in time for the weapon to lose its target. Just in time for it not to fire.

Jack had been horrified. He’d checked the weapon over a dozen times, and nothing had seemed amiss.

They concluded it was either an accidental slip that had primed the weapon, and something possibly needing adjustment in its targeting code.

They moved on with their research on the curse.

The hair on Maddie’s head came off in chunks.

At least, the hair that didn't thicken and stiffen until she had a twin set of antennae emerging from her forehead.

They kept the blinds closed. When a package delivery came, Maddie signed for it with her hood up.

The second time it happened, it was something simple. She’d needed a break from their research, from the headache she genuinely couldn’t tell if it was from the curse or from the stress of it. She couldn’t think straight, and as much as it rankled, she knew she’d be useless in doing more research.

She’d pulled out some simple protections and a couple of small net projects. They needed nets of various sizes for the upcoming eclipse, and while Jack liked to show off with the large ones, Maddie did enjoy weaving together the smaller ones.

The net itself was itchy against her skin, but it was made of a new weave of fibers, embedded with near gossamer iron and silver. There was also a new mix of herbs she’d had some luck with, but she needed to mix up more to soak the net in.

With the net on her lap, and the various herbs around her, she’d begun to mix.

And had managed to spill some of the garlic, sage, St. John’s Wort, and yarrow mixture on her hands and down her arms.

It had taken her several moments of frustrated clean up for her to realize what was happening—and for the pain to kick in.

The mixture was burning her, and where she’d touched the net felt raw and prickly.

Her stomach sank as she moved robotically over to the sink.

Just how deep did this curse run?

Breaking mirrors was bad luck. Fortunately, it was unnecessary when you had a sandblaster. It even worked on steel.

The third time, Maddie clutched the toilet, thinking, thinking, trying to think of what she might have eaten, what she might have done to feel like this. They’d barely been out of the house. It had to be the curse again. Was this it? Had it been taking her through this horrible transformation only to kill her like a stomach bug? She hadn’t eaten anything she didn’t eat all the time.

The ingredients. Pasta, tomatoes, onions, garlic–

Garlic.

Like in the mixture that had burned her so badly only a few days ago.

Jack's hair was wiry, and too stiff. Too thick.

They had only two leads. What was happening to their reflections and what was happening to themselves. They didn’t want to let the curse run its course, didn’t want to see the form it ultimately took, so, when covering or defacing the mirrors didn’t work, they studied them.

When viewed straight on, their reflections seemed… not normal, not with what was happening to them, but not otherwise supernaturally altered. But from the corners of their eyes, they were more. More changed. More alien. More monstrous.

Maddie and Jack designed new machines, new tools for measurement, new methods. They compared the readings of mirrors that were reflecting them to mirrors that were not. They set cameras to record their reflections. They argued and built and tested and…

And all they knew for sure was that mirrors were involved somehow.

Entering the kitchen was like walking headfirst into a wall of acidic fumes. They had to throw out some of the herbs with tongs, and their eyes and noses burned for hours after.

Among all their tests, all their increasingly frantic research, the house became a minefield. Weapons began to track them with increasing frequency, alarms went off when they entered the house or the grounds. It felt like every fifteen minutes they got a new alert on their phones, on their equipment about monsters in their house.

No matter how many times they searched, or how well, they never found a thing.

No one but themselves.

Jazz was out of the house for hours at a time. Danny had become a shadow, fluttering in and out at odd times.

Maddie tried, several times, to talk to her daughter but it seemed something got in the way every time. A new alarm would go off, or a weapon would malfunction and start to aim, or Maddie would forget and reach for something and feel the burn of herbs or certain metals.

As the days went on and the curse worsened, so too did things around the house. Every protection they had built into the very walls of their home was now a weapon against them.

Maddie feared they were running out of time.

Maddie scratched absently at the rash covering most of their bodies, and felt skin slide.

Her hair didn't.

Her hair didn't, and through it she could feel the texture of the flesh sloughing off, suddenly too loud, too wet, too much too much too much.

When she emerged from the shower, her arms and hands were segmented. Behind her, the shower looked like a crime scene.

(After that, they had to shut down the internal alarms—they were nothing but a never ending shriek, and neither she nor Jack could figure out how to make it stop targeting them but still protect their home.)

They did research. Not the scientific kind of research that they liked best, but delving through old and unreliable secondary and tertiary sources, trying to pick out strands of truth from among the razor-wires of misunderstandings and outright fabrication. Some books, Maddie hadn’t picked up since Danny was born.

One had ‘good’ fairies. That other had humans inadvertently casting curses on their family members. The one she’d just discarded had talked about monsters that had once been human, when Maddie knew that was impossible. None of their data supported such a transformation.

But it didn’t matter what their data supported when this was happening to them. When their appearances were so warped that they’d resorted to communicating to their children solely through notes and text messages. When so many of the protective wards they’d built up around their more sensitive or more dangerous equipment made them shy away.

They were desperate. It showed.

They tried dozens of cutesy neopagan countercharms. They worked through purification rituals with limited or even singular attestation. They pulled out screwdrivers and hammers and systematically removed and broke every mirror in the house and the MAV, despite the years of bad luck common wisdom claimed they should get with each one.

It didn’t work. None of it worked.

When Jack's eyes began to bulge from his sockets, growing until they were the size of tennis balls, it was no longer a surprise but a horrible confirmation: Phantom had cursed them to become like him.

It was a foul, monstrous trick befitting a wolf in child’s clothing like Phantom. They knew they weren’t monsters, not ‘fae’, but whatever magic it had woven was enough to convince their own eyes and tools. In a home primed and ready to fight off all foul creatures of the shadows, that was no small danger. There were safeguards they could no longer safely disable.

At this rate, they’d be unable to even stay in their own home.

#danny phantom #maddie fenton dp #jack fenton dp #ectoberhaunt23 #day 19 #claws #cw body horror #jackdraw-spwrite #jackdaw-spwrite

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yvesdot · 10 months ago

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yves, if only theoretically wanted to break into publishing or lit mags, do you have recommendations or advice?

My primary advice is to get to know as many writers as you can, as well as you can, quickly. I’ve recommended joining Discord servers for this in the past and will do so again; the most active ones I’m in are Max's @goose-books server (I think you have to ask for an invite?), WTW, and writeblr garden. Participate in book events virtually and in person when you can. When you like someone's work, tell them! And mention that you're an author, too.

Disclaimer: I haven't made it into any paid magazines, largely because I find submitting and waiting for months at a time before working on edits exhausting, particularly in comparison to instant money on Patreon—so have that grain of salt at the ready! All I've done is publish the one book, twice, and release a substantial amount of short fiction on my own. People read it and liked it, and now I have lovely anons like you who seem to respect me enough to ask for industry advice. Thank you! Hope you like long posts.

The reason I say the above is that, in my experience, the entirety of publishing is just one big who-do-you-know. Utterly non-exhaustive list of ways "knowing people" has helped me in my writing career below.

I left a middling review on a trans author's book, and in the correspondence that followed we became friends. Rysz Merey went on to start tRaum Books, and because we were friends, we put out the Something's Not Right anniversary edition together.

When I was at my university, I was loudly opinionated about books and writing and art in all of my classes, and a professor's words about me in an email to an author they knew became the blurb for that same edition of Something's Not Right.

I read Tragic Accident (a flash piece originally rejected by an online magazine for, in my opinion, cisgender reasons) last night at Flash Fiction Forum, the heads of which I know personally because, after a high school internship, I was directed to a friend of theirs to volunteer at her writing camp. I sold a lot of copies of the original SNR to teens at that camp, and I've sold dozens of copies since by linking to the book in the Zoom chat and bringing physical copies to in-person readings.

Tragic Accident may have ultimately been rejected from the venue I sent it to, but I only had that venue on my list because my beloved friend Fer @asablehart posted in WTW a spreadsheet of places to submit. I still use that spreadsheet, filled with dozens of extra places I researched on my own, and pass it on to anyone who asks. Fer also read The Traveler Wife and gave extremely insightful feedback on it; we've since done tons of great critique4critiques together and they're still my go-to if I need wise words on a piece of writing.

When I held my event at Bookshop Santa Cruz, I marketed my ass off. I'd learned from my previous event at the Diversity Center in town and focused heavily on reaching out to individual people: posting in Discord servers, DMing everyone I knew, and telling everybody I met in December that by the way I would be reading at Bookshop Santa Cruz in January. I worked my job as an author and my book and my event into every conversation I had with a stranger that month. Everyone responded positively! People want to know what you're working on.

But at the end of the day, under a third of attendees were people I hadn't previously considered friends in some way. The majority of the people who came were family, friends, coworkers, friends-of-friends dragged along by someone I knew well, etc. One coworker couldn't come but invited their housemates, who bought books and left saying they would read Band Girls at home. One of the friends who came met me when we would ride the same bus every week to class, and I initially spoke to him because I fully thought he was a transgender woman (he turned out to just be an extremely fashionable individual). That guy helped code my website. Of the three people who interviewed me locally for promotion, two are people I'm friends with and one I cold-emailed due to his past work.

One of the major servers I used to invite people to both of my events is one I was only added to because I met a goth girl who invited me to her dorm to watch her inject E into her thigh and when I reported back on this to another transfem friend that friend instantly named her because they were in the server together and multiple people in it knew me from my creative writing efforts so everybody agreed to add me. I literally only had that space to network because I said "nice boots" to a girl whose special interest turned out to be DIY HRT at a protest party about the chancellor getting a raise.

Claire Oshetsky came to my event and I made a point of finally starting to read their book beforehand so I could honestly tell them it was cool when I signed their copy of Something's Not Right (it was cool, and everyone should read Chouette, and also Poor Deer, which I am on page 10 on and can already certify is fantastic). They were incredibly nice to me for no reason—well, because of those interviews I had, which led to them noticing another nonbinary author in the area—and ultimately reviewed SNR very positively on GoodReads. You can see what happened to the numbers afterwards. (I also sold a copy that day; when you sell roughly a copy of a book per week, you can absolutely make these connections directly.)

Tonight was Claire Oshetsky's event, so I showed up having read Chouette in full and asked a question during the Q&A and told them how cool their book was, and they invited me to a little post-event author dinner. (One of the authors introduced herself as "Karen" and described a prolific writing career very opaquely until her friend mentioned the name of her latest novel: Booth.) Everyone was incredibly nice and wanted to buy my book which was unfortunately sold out because of the aforementioned event, and a couple of people gave me email addresses so they could buy it later. I've been trying to meet local authors for over a year, and I met seven by accident because one of them came up to me to say it was nice to see Bookshop Santa Cruz had two nonbinary readers in a row.

Talking to David Sedaris at an event got me a job! He complimented my outfit, I said thank you I wore it for the interview with [x], and he did everything he could to help me network with the [x] people there. I was later told that my "chemistry" with Sedaris, among other things, helped me get the position. I would also find out that David specifically loves the last people in the signing line because they're the most patient; I happened to have waited until last because I wanted to have more time to talk to him.

I have emailed several authors with fanmail, and depending on how popular they are, I have gotten responses! I'm in a correspondence right now which netted me a behind-the-scenes look at an incredible draft, and thank you for reminding me because I need to respond and tell them how good it was.

Patreon is on pause right now, but I believe over half the subscribers are people I'm friends with in one way or another. I've tried nearly everything under the sun to advertise, and so far the only thing that's worked is "telling someone who has the disposable income."

The people who beta-read my latest release, Band Girls (18+), for me (which is the only reason it wasn't an unmitigated disaster) include my butch, who met me in a Locked Tomb server (naturally), a friend from a creative writing class in university who later became my housemate, and a good buddy of my butch's whom they rescued from the aforementioned TLT server. I literally didn't even notice that guy when we were in the server together and it turns out he's also a writer with a Giant Lesbian Women project who also wound up really liking Long Line (18+). Glories are all around you.

(Also, apparently my butch had that "how to write a blurb" post bookmarked and immediately recognized me, which is crazy. Imagine meeting some random author in a fandom server and they ask to see your [redacted] in DMs.)

Hell, my buddy Max Franciscovich read my book five years ago in the back of a car and had a transcendental nonbinary lesbian experience, and because he happened to be mutuals with a high school friend of mine, that friend sent me screenshots of him panicking about how he couldn't talk to me because I was too cool. I DMed him, and we are like each other's female husbands now. Undoubtedly we have each gained a substantive reader base from hyping each other's work at anyone in earshot. Maxserver, which I shouted out above, only has me in it because I know the darn guy. It's a lot more populous than yvescord in part because he is that much more active than I am, and can engage with other people's work more. I'm mooching off the labor of my best friend who pseudo-reached-out to me because I put a pronoun pin on a character's bag in the book I self-published in 2018.

Speaking of which: I self-published the original edition of Something's Not Right as a thank-you birthday gift to the Beta Reader. I seem to remember him reading my writing for the first time and saying something along the lines of "You do realize this is really good, right?" (I did not realize.) That was the first person to appreciate any of my original fiction, and it led to my entire career. We met on a class trip because he was the only person who would listen to me talk about Star Wars.

I try to never ingenuinely be nice to people. This is not particularly difficult, because I like people and give the benefit of the doubt to a pretty extreme fault. I will occasionally be nice out of politeness, but everyone I mentioned here is someone I genuinely like whose work is fantastic. It wasn't hard to honestly say I liked them and their writing.

I also recognize that much of this is kind of just me blathering about Ws with no actionable advice... but it might give you ideas for where to go or who to talk to about your writing. I also want you to feel just how much of writing is about "networking" in a way that is not cold and manipulative and moneyhungry but actually just involves being genuine friends with other people. I think the sheer quantity of evidence here is helpful to understand just how much you can do for yourself by talking to the people you like.

I also think it's good practice to own the fact that very little of my microcelebrity success has anything to do with how good my work is. I mean, sure, I think it's good, but this should make it clear that my greatest strength has been my perseverance and my friendliness.

(Also, obviously, I have the immense privilege to have gone to college, to live in California, to get to all these places and meet these people and work with them. I had the money in the bank to publish and promote a book. This is not a small factor. I'm hoping to do a full rundown of costs and efforts to promote Something's Not Right's anniversary edition sometime this year.)

I also don't think I'm particularly good at socializing—I have a knack for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, a difficulty with meeting people's eyes, and a mild stutter when I talk too quickly (which is often). A lot of people find me annoying or insincere because I act like a sentient powder puff, and when I'm not jumping up and down and meowing at people instead of saying "on your right," I'm complaining about the most widely-beloved pieces of pop culture and making two-hour rant videos about video games I think insufficiently scrutinize the concept of the nuclear family. I say all this to head off any concerns that perhaps I am just secretly very suave and social; I love talking to people, but I don't believe this is the case.

If I can summarize: nearly every time I've had any success with my writing, it's been because I made an effort to be kind to people I respected and share my passion for books and writing. I hit upon enough privileges and lucky circumstances to get the right circle of people to make all of the above happen. I think you can do it, too! I wish you the best. Thanks for asking ^__^

#yves talks #yves talks writing #txt #Good Lord this evil wall of text. Hope somebody enjoyed??#writeblr #writeblr advice #writing advice #asks #important writing updates #snr2 #something's not right

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oceangirl24 · 2 months ago

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Why Am I Blocked?: An Ask Answered

For those who have come to Tumblr via my AO3 profile or by other means looking for an answer to this question, I'm compiling the answer here along with the links to the original answers.

I hope this will help anyone who have found themselves blocked from commenting on AO3 and occassionally FFN.

Anonymous asked: I'll admit i was very angry and hurt that i was on your block list until i read your user profile. sorry you got bullied and harassed by this person. now i'm kinda of nervous of who she is because i don't think i could take 16 months of bullying.

I debated overnight if I should answer this. I am going to respond so that my readers understand what's been going on.

This ask is very typical of the type of thing the person who harassed me, and plagiarized Autumn in Philadelphia does. Since she found out about the link to the report, she has sent readers and has impersonated readers to get the link to that report which details not just the plagiarism but also her harassment.

I have had mutual readers gain my trust, participate in my BMW discord server, and pretend to be supportive through this ordeal all while relaying information to her.

She has also used her readers from other fandoms to try to do the same.

This is why I preemptively block readers who gush over her or indicate that they are in private communication with her (all of this is public information on her stories that I found while compiling my report).

Why is this ask typical of her methods to gain access to me and the report?

There is no indication to which user profile this information is on as those of you who follow me know I post on three sites.

I would think if this ask was by a legit reader and not by her or one of her friends (she is blocked on every single site I know we share as are any associates of hers that I'm aware of) I would think the reader would want me to know who they are so I can directly address them and the site they are on.

Which I would do privately.

The fact that immediate concern is about who she is also bothers me. I would assume once I named the person, they would want proof in the form of the link to the report.

That will not happen.

If this ask is from a legitimate reader or follower, then I really am sorry you've been caught in this.

To be clear: I am not upset with anyone who follows her or interacts with her works. This issue should have stayed between us but she chose to bring others into it and use them.

Even if you have been a part of this with her, I'm honestly not upset with you. I know how manipulative she is. I'm sure you thought you were helping a very sweet loving Christian writer obssessed with Jon and Shawn (aren't most of us obssessed?).

I fell for it myself. Hard.

I care about all of my readers very much, but it has come to the point where I have to protect myself.

If this is not a legitimate ask and you are doing this on her behalf or she's gotten another account, then we now stand close to 20 months of harassment.

To my readers, you know where to find me and how to interact with me that is not AO3.

I thank you for sticking with me through all of this and for supporting AiP, whether you comment or simply just read as I post.

I appreciate you more than I can say.

Aria

Anonymous asked: Hi, im the anon from last night. I only found your stories recently. I had no idea who you were. I have no clue who bullied you I wasn't actually expecting you to tell me. I'm pretty new to the fandom (writing since 2023). The reason I said I was nervous because I had a bad experience with a user in a previous fandom who falsely accused me of sending them hate, and they still do it occasionally. That's why I don't post links of my bmw fanfics to Tumblr. Again, I'm sorry that happened to you. I know you're going to have your guard up, but there are people who genuinely don't know what was going on. Also I wasn't expecting you to unblock me. I was just relieved it wasn't anything I done or that you disgusted by my writing. I won't bother you after this. I just wanted to clear things up.

Oh, I see.

If you are who I think you are then, you recced one of her works in a space we share. That place was one of the sites she tried to get a foothold in the fandom and was never able to and resented my presence there. It was also one of the places she focused her harassment until the report went out. Then she left and started on other sites.

Obviously, I overreacted when I saw her name come up and my instinct was to block everywhere just in case.

I apologize for that. I am really sorry.

I'm also sorry that you've had to deal with your own situation. I know how much these things mess with you. 🫂

No, I don't have any issues with you or your writing. And you haven't done anything. This was just an unfortunate coincidence.

I've unblocked you in both places. Best of luck with your writing and belated welcome to the fandom.

I hope to see you around.

I really do.

Anonymous asked: Thank you for unblocking me :) Also,I want to say sorry about the recc list. If I had known about your situation I wouldn't have done it. Anyway, I'd like to be more of an active member of the bmw fandom one day. But for now I'm gonna keep my tumblr private.

You're welcome. 😊

There's no way you could've known about the situation. And all of the other recs were solid choices. ❤️

Totally understand about keeping Tumblr private. There is also the Discord server if you're interested. You are most certainly welcome there. There's a section just for fanfiction writers, too.

I hope this clears things up.

Much love,

Aria

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vixthefantheorist · 2 years ago

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Who sent these messages?

So I was just looking back on the stream... well the latter half of it. Since I'm talking about the section of time (ha) of where this appears:

Mostly due to the importance of why it's there. This was Sean's failsafe loop to play in case the stream went tits up for some reason or another. But not only was it a failsafe for that situation but it served for another purpose that didn't get to be played out as planned since Sean decided to play then entire thing in one day.

As we all know, the IRIS Project was originally going to play out over the course of about a week, 5 days, if I recall correctly. Each day the stream would appear at some time, have us all play a mini-game to earn a Chase clip. (No joke the minigames were fun. Challenging since we're talking about thousands of people entering commands all at once but still fun IMO) But then IRIS's systems will be alerted to our meddling and kicks us back out as IRIS does a maintenance on their servers in attempt to keep us out. And we're 'locked out' for the day and have to wait the next day to try hacking again. Thus the above image appears. BUT there is something else within that little Server Maintenance Required loop that I just noticed a couple of days ago, that I did share on the official JSE discord. I'm sure others caught onto it waaaay before I have but I haven't seen it be discussed so I'll share it.

In that loop, four words appear.

I can imagine that these words only are suppose to show up during the four days we get locked out of the camera systems before the final day in which Anti breaks into the facility in order to apprehend Chase for himself.

So my question is...

Who the hell sent those?

Like someone on the inside of IRIS, giving us a warning before locking us out for the day then reopen it for us to pop back in to hack? Like, I dunno? Arin? Henrik?

Or could it be out mystery team that had broken into the facility ahead of Anti? Perhaps Echo?

Not sure... but notice how the words get a bit more frantic as it goes. 'Patience' is very clear and easy to read and smaller. But the words 'Wait', 'Don't Look' and 'Hide' get more fuzzy, somewhat harder to read and larger, as if someone is panicking and yelling at us to stop what we're doing.

Granted, we don't listen, too curious and stubborn to see what happens to Chase next. And determined to free him somehow. (Honestly, not sure how big of a part we play in the story, if at all, in the way it affects the story. Or we're in another POV of another character trying to help Chase and the others are yelling at them to stop because they just allowed Anti pass through the defenses? Or it's just meta fun for lulz?) I'm not sure myself, but either case, someone on the other side of the line was panicking for good reason. Anti did tear through the IRIS facility with terrifying speed. (Which brings me to go off topic for a moment. I think the reason why there's no huge pool of blood for Anti to step in and leave footprints as he approaches Chase in that hallway; is because I believe Anti was alternating between walking and floating through the facility and killing people. And the last room he killed in, probably had a pool of blood to step in and he just decided to float in Chase's direction to intimidate and showcase his power to him; before setting himself down to walk closer to him in the end.

-snerk- Now imagine finding several spots of the facility with bloody footprints. Kinda funny, but also clever if he wants to confuse anyone from IRIS following him or investigating what happened of where he was going in the building. If he cared about hiding that at all.)

Anyway, back on topic, the question still stands. Who left those messages in the server maintenance clip? I'm curious to hear your thoughts! Who do you think did that? And were those messages meant for us, the viewers? The 'character' (if there is one)? Or... perhaps meant for Chase?

Perhaps the messages were for Chase...

After all, Anti is the one seeking him out... Chase the one losing his patience... and the one who shouldn't look and must hide from Anti...

EDIT:

I also figured something about the words too. 'Patience' is the only word written in black, while the other words are in white or a mix of both but static. Maybe 'Patience' is more of something of Anti being the one to say it to us viewers to be patient for his arrival or someone telling Anti to be patient so that things will be easier for him.

Either way, its fun! :D

#jacksepticeye #jse community #jseprojectiris #jse iris #jse iris project #antisepticeye #chase brody #jse egos #jse anti #jse chase #jse fandom #jse theories #jsegos #jse project iris clues

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misteria247 · 3 months ago

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A bit of a ramble/vent cuz I need to kinda get it off my chest-

So I'd went to North Carolina's Outer Banks a few weeks back for this singles retreat/Christian camp thing for adults and they've got a Discord server right? I've been interacting with people on and off there, being more open than I usually am to try and establish actual friendships with people who I've actually met face to face and to step out of my comfort zone. And most of the time it's nice, having this place where you can fellowship with others. But some days......I'm reminded pretty quickly that I'm not really like them.

There's just little moments. Moments where I have to mentally go "Oh yeah, they're more stern on this kind of thing huh." And have to backtrack a bit. Like the other day when the Sonic 3 trailer dropped and as y'all know once I'm excited about something I tend to uh go off the rails sometimes. I did the post on here and decided to share my excitement with these people on this server. Because if we're gonna be friends they've got to know the real me ya know? So I go on there and start my rambling, excited and kicking my feet and chewing drywall like I usually do. And it's then I realize that......some of those people had no clue what I was talking about.

They were nice don't get me wrong, everyone's pretty nice there but as I was talking and delving into my love of video games and such I was met with amused confusion from some. One guy even jokingly sent a gif of Frodo saying "it's some kind of Elvish I can't make it out" cuz he was obviously lost on what I was rambling about. I didn't take it personally but it just.....it really made it obvious that I'm not exactly the kind of gal who can fit into this group fully.

Then there's my lingo of saying stuff like I stg or God I wish, and yesterday this girl bless her, seemed to think I was saying it in a disrespectful manner and she was super nice about it and me being me, of course apologized for making her feel uncomfortable despite being completely confused. Cuz the last thing I want is to do that to someone. Especially since they've been nothing but kind towards me. But at the same time it just reminds me that I'm in a way not like them. We may believe in the same God, and we may love his creations and want to follow his laws but that's where the similarities end.

In a way, I can't help but feel like an outcast whenever I'm me. It's silly to feel like this I know, and I shouldn't be feeling like that because these people have been nothing but kind towards me. And yet......every time I run into these little, miniscule things, it's glaringly obvious that I'm different. The way I do things and the way I act is different from this group. I originally went to this camp in hopes of finding a possible husband for the future, yet now as I sit here thinking about it I can't help but wonder......if I did find the one God made for me in this group......will I have to stop being me? Will I have to tone down the person I am, in order to fit into this group better?

It's scary fam. Because I've grown to like these people despite only knowing them for a short time. Going to this camp, it changed something in me. It made me more comfortable to be sociable towards others and be more welcoming. Which is insane for me. Yet these little things also are bringing up dead insecurities. Insecurities that I haven't had since I was a child/young teenager. Insecurities that because I'm different that I don't belong, that because of my personality and way I go about life, it makes people not want to be around me. That it makes me annoying and overbearing.

Which is ridiculous because right before I left Carolina to go home, a good chuck of people asked me if I was planning on coming back to their spring one and even expressed wanting to see me again. They clearly found something in me that makes them want to see me again in person, to continue getting to know me. But these little things.....even though they're of no ill will or of a cruel nature.........they make me wonder ya know?

Honestly I'm just a bit of a confused mess ngl lmao.

#oli talks #ooc #muns ramblings #mindless ramblings of a madman #venting #rambling #ranting #religion #Christianity #honestly I'm probably over thinking it but I can't help it #thanks childhood bullying you really ruined me lmaooo

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coffinlid · 10 months ago

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If y’all wanna hear some shit read below the cut. It’s a lot. Sorry 🩷

OK SO! Yesterday I go into work at 4 and one of my coworkers immediately tells me that the restaurant is closed Saturday. I was like oh ok…. Why? Like shut down for the day or…. And he said no like the business is shutting down forever. He kinda jumped the gun bc soon after the director of operations (Pete) gathers all of the evening crew around and lets us know the situation.

(I’m gonna try to explain some context without being confusing. The company I work for owns 3 restaurants. The restaurant I work at is technically not owned by them, but they manage it for the original owner/landlord. The landlord (who fucked off to the Dominican Republic because he’s in trouble with the law) saw our finances for the first time in like a year and decided to just shut it all down. He has no restaurant experience and doesn’t understand the concept of slow season in the food world. Yes, business has been slow since November. However, we are ALWAYS popping off spring-fall. Business BOOMS. Well. Landlord guy gave our company an ultimatum.)

Pete explains that himself, the CEO, and I guess some of the other corporate people tried reasoning with landlord and even just begged to let the restaurant stay open until spring when business picks up. Landlord said they could do 3 things:

1. Buy the restaurant from him for an astronomical amount

2. Continue to run the restaurant but with absolutely no financial support from him from now on (which we were already kind of doing for a year��)

3. Shut down the whole bitch

Our company can’t afford to keep the restaurant with no support so they had to concede to landlord and just shut the whole thing down. And it had to be on Saturday. There was no reasoning with him. This took absolutely EVERYBODY by surprise. EVERYBODY, including corporate and head management of the restaurant, got a total of 2! DAYS! of notice.

I could tell when I walked into work yesterday that Pete and my two managers had been crying a lot. I know the GM is gonna float between the other restaurants as a training coordinator, but I have no clue what’s gonna happen to the assistant manager bc there are no other management positions available in the company. She’s pretty much just been hung out to dry. With 2 days notice.

My front of house and back of house coworkers were all discussing where we’re gonna go from here and what the fuck we do now. 2 days to find a new job. Everybody was scrambling to get each other’s socials so we can all keep in touch. This fucking sucks dude. I loved coming into work just for my coworkers, not even the work itself. I know it’s a cliche that companies call themselves a “family” but honestly truly we really were a little family.

Pete wants us all to stay within the company if we can, and I know at least 3 of us are going to transfer to one of the other restaurants. It’s technically not the end of the world, at least for servers. But I have no clue if the other restaurants have any space for back of house employees. I know I’m never gonna see some of these people ever again.

And we have a whole ass brewery in the back. And we JUST CHANGED THE MENU AND INVESTED IN ALL THIS OTHER SHIT JUST LAST FRIDAY!!!! We had 1 week with the new menu and that’s it. Everything is completely stocked. There are so many fixtures and plants and technology, so much new merch that we just bought.

Somehow a mass text went out to all the other stores and restaurants on our street that we were shutting down and we had so many people walking in to share their condolences. But this text went out before most of the restaurant even knew about it. So when they came in some of us were like uh… what are you talking about…. How the fuck did that happen???? No one knows who sent the text.

On the bright side, I got a SHIT TON of sympathy tips last night and made almost $200.

It was going to be my last night since I wasn’t scheduled for the next 2 days but thankfully my manager added me to the roster for Saturday night. So I will be there for the end of it all 🥲

#long post #I hope the cut actually works on mobile #so yeah I’m technically out of a job in 2 days #but I just got an offer letter for the funeral home so it’s not like I’m scrambling #THIS SHIT SUUUCCCCCKKKKSSSSSS #tt #I’m gonna miss my people so bad I think I might cry on Saturday

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kelmcdonald · 1 year ago

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August Newsletter: Back From Comic Con

Hi everyone! And welcome to everyone who signed up for my newsletter at San Diego Comic Con. It was fun to see a San Diego Comic Con where comics were the focus again. If you're new here I'm making these comics:

Blue Moon is a werewolf romance gn I'm writing and Meredith McClarren is going to draw. I'm late on its script.

The City Between is my webcomic about werewolves in the future. It updates Wednesdays. The current story is called Shards of Reflection.

You are the Chosen One is a fantasy comic about 23 kids who got the same prophecy dream. It was posting on Fridays on my Patreon. But my editorial work has been piling up/overwhelming me lately. So it's on hold until I finish up some other stuff.

My day job is an editor at the manga company Seven Seas and the indie comic publisher Iron Circus Comics. I like folklore, fantasy, and especially like werewolves.

This month I'm making tweaks to my website. So we finished some more minor switches like adding more social media buttons to the top bar. But this month we are gonna revamp the store section. Speaking of the store, Misfits of Avalon volume 1 is out of print. I just sent the last ten copies to White Squirrel who handles my store fulfillment. I'm not gonna sell it at cons anymore. In about a year or so, I'll probably talk to Darkhorse about putting it back online and printing an omnibus.

This month's werewolf movie is The Howling 2. I'm showing it in my discord server August 30th at 5pm PST. Pop in to join if you like!

As always I'll be streaming art on Twitch. My schedule is currently the following:

Tuesday 8pm-10pm PST

Wednesday 8pm-10pm PST

Thursday 6pm-9pm PST (during the Iron Circus Geekshow)

On August 24th, we'll have Tracy Butler of Lackadaisy Cats on Iron Circus Geekshow as a guest to close out the wildly successful Iron Circus crowdfund for Lackadaisy Season 1.

So last month I was too wiped to post photos of going to the Del Tor that I went to in June. But I sat down and put them in a drive that anyone can browse. So have a look if you wanna see some of the puppets used in the Pinnocino movie.

While I was at San Diego Comic Con, I went to a Junji Ito exhibit. It was very cool seeing his originals. I always think its cool to see how different artists end up using white out or what needs correcting. All the photos I took during SDCC are also in a drive for you to browse.

If you just want to see cosplayers though and not horror art I posted cosplay photos on my instagram.

As for what I'm working on, I'm still playing catch up on stuff from shake ups at Iron Circus Comics. So I'm officially putting You are the Chosen One on hold until I have Blue Moon scripted. I might put it on hold longer because I realize I'm almost half way through Shards of Reflection and haven't finished the next City Between stories's script. I'm pretty sure more people read/are interested in The City Between than You are the Chosen One. So it's got to take priority.

Some time this month I need to find time to clean up Murky Water. It got it's first proofreading pass and I need to fix text. Then I need to start building a crowdfund for it and decide when and where to run it. Iron Circus has been having good luck with Backerkit, but it's back end is overly complicated in my opinion. Meanwhile, I said last year that I probably wasn't gonna use Kickstarter again because of them moving to the blockchain. They have kinda walked that back, but not 100%. Either this month or next, I'll type something up and ask what you all think of both platforms.

With all this on my plate, I haven't had much time to check out new stuff. Plus with the writers/actor strike, I don't want to promo any TV or Movies I've been watching. The makes my what I've been checking out section pretty focused/brief.

I started reading Berserk.

And it's really really good.

If you are unfamiliar with Berserk, it's a classic manga/anime. And about a year ago it's creator, Kentaro Miura, died. Since then more and more people online have been giving it new attention and encouraged people to sit down and read it. The youtuber Super Eyepatch Wolf had a video that got me interested, Then FD Signifier brought it up in his videoessay about masculinity and anime. And then War Rocket Ajax reviewed it on Comic Catch up. So I pulled the trigger and read a big chunk of it.

And like I said, it's really really. It's extremely violent and frequently indulges in edge lord levels of grim dark. So skip it if you don't like extreme violence. But there is some beautiful character moments that are all the more touching because they contrast the violence.

It's just some really good comic storytelling.

That's it for this month. Thanks everyone for your support!

#comics #webcomics #newsletter

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polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup · 2 years ago

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Hi hello!!!

So for 6: “If Matt stays away, he can be lonely and beloved all at once. No one to hurt him but maybe someone will attend his funeral. Crack open the box and look at that, he’s croaked. Schrodinger’s fucking orphan.” I I!!!! am quite insane abt schrodinger’s box metaphors and I remember every part of this fic but this is the first snippet I sent my best friend

For 7: “This isn’t a fight.” *screams* yeah

Lastly lastly 8: your writing style is so very particular in such a sharp way?? there’s such a specificity to it and your use of voice is just the best ive read in a long long time. your writing style makes me mildly insane and ive sent many a snippet to my discord server and/or my best friend out of sheer vibratingness and I love it a lot thank you so so much for the words

Hi hello yourself!!

The line in 6 was actually one of my favorites ones in glaze defects and I’m sooo thrilled you liked it too.

I wasn’t planning on continuing the “box” motif from the earlier scene with captain america when i started glaze defects, and then i ended up realizing how well it fit for matt too.

like, you always have that moment in superhero movies where you have the character in this big metal box getting changed into the hero. they get the serum or the radiation or whatever. captain america, bruce banner, green goblin, etc. i think even the thing got a scene like that in the old F4 movies. the metal box’s sliding panes open, all this dry ice pours out, and you find out whether you cooked up shirtless chris evan or norman osborn who just heard the words “back to formula.”

as the audience, we know already whether they’re going to be a hero or a villain. we always knew that steve rogers would be captain america and norman osborn would be green goblin, and we know whether it would be a good or bad thing. but in universe, i feel like that’s the moment that clearly determines whether you have a superhero or a monster. it’s the exact same scene over and over again, but in the universe, in the moment before those doors open, you don’t know whether you have hero or villain. in a way, it always seemed like schrodinger’s cat to me, waiting for the box to open for it to be determine as to which of the two would be true.

of course, there’s a third possibility that we never see, but that logically must be the most common: the doors slide open, the dry ice pours out, and look at that, dave, you fucking killed another. someone get the janitors to clean this shit up before we try to cook up another.

like, we always see either 1) hero or 2) villain in superhero movies when the big superpower scene passes. we don’t often see what must be the far most common in universe result, which is 3) dead. most attempts to give someone powers just can’t be successful.

which was an interesting motif to me, because arguably, in the scene that that line comes from, matt is still in the box in his superhero origin story. we don’t know which of the three he’ll be yet.

like, matt never got a “box,” per se. he didn’t get the magical moment of transformation the way steve rogers did. he did get his super senses via accident, but arguably, his super senses and how he got them are not at all analogous to steve getting the super soldier serum. with steve, he’s suddenly equipped with super strength, recovery, durability, etc.--and while who steve is and his mind is what makes captain america what he is, the powers are like this sudden weapon in his arsenal that make him dangerous. matt didn’t get that. his powers were a handicap more than anything until he learned to use them. it was matt’s history, his training, his past that made him dangerous.

both steve and matt would have the mindset, the spirit, the person that made captain America and daredevil who they were even if they woke up the next day without any powers. but steve got a magic girl transformation that let him immediately go toe to toe with a nazi. he became captain america after the serum. matt became daredevil after years of pain, suffering, and training shaping him into the devil of hell’s kitchen.

in that scene, matt’s still in the box. he’s in the process of daredevil being forged, the same as if someone was actively administering the super soldier serum. he’s learning how to become what he’ll one day need to be--and he doesn’t know he’ll be option one yet. he thinks he’s option three. but the doors haven’t opened yet, so not even he knows, and he’s the fucking cat.

i think this is especially interesting with matt because he’s one of the few characters that we have canonical confirmation that he could have been anything other than option 1. i feel like there’s this huge temptation with these characters to make who they are fate. that there’s an indescribable element destining them to go into the box and come out of it again as option 1 again and again and again no matter the universe. with matt murdock, however, we have earth-65 and matt murderdock. we know he could have gone otherwise, even if he overwhelmingly becomes daredevil.

i think one of the reasons why i like daredevil so much as a character is that ultimately, his hero call to action isn’t as glittery as other heroes. like, don’t get me wrong--steve rogers is also my blorbo, i love him with all my heart and soul. but he’s got the swelling music, dry ice, box pops open transformation with the big climactic moment of reveal. with matt, it just feels more like entropy. he’s just in pain for so long, and it just becomes a matter of which of the three options he’s going to end up falling into to make it stop.

for 7, that’s a line that was so important to include in it for me and that, not gonna lie, i’ve definitely reused in other matt stories (can’t remember if i’ve already published them or not--i’m assuming this is its use in glaze defects). like, fundamentally, matthew murdock only comes about through systematic abuse. he’s a character who's extraordinarily bad at communication, and i think that he genuinely cannot tell when things are a fight sometimes.

like, in abusive situations, there’s very rarely a neutral “stressful thing happening” situation where it’s just things going on and everyone’s going to work through them together. Someone Is To Blame And That Someone Is You. or even if you can’t get blamed for it, the anger’s going to be taken out on you. Matt’s traumatized as fuck from his everything, and I think that a part of him is inclined towards registering things like agitation and upset emotions and perceiving it as something that’s in conflict with him. even if he figures out later that the person in question wasn’t mad at him, i think that his immediate instinct has him categorizing disagreement or upset as a fight.

of course, in the scene in question, it’s not a fight. foggy and karen are deeply upset, but it’s on matt’s behalf--they just found out that matt was taken advantage of as a ten year old orphan and abused horribly and that matt blames himself for it. they’re not fighting him, they’re not against matt in this moment, but matt’s been reading “genuine concern and indignation for a horrible violation committed against him” as “my two friends want to fight me personally over this.”

foggy as a character is interesting because he seems to be more aware of why matt is the way that he is than any other character--sometimes even matt himself. he’s very good at not letting matt’s maladaptive behaviors run unchecked, but he also seems to understand why he turned out the way he did. like, there are a lot of scenes where matt’s destructively self isolating--and actively hurting his loved ones, like foggy, in the process--and foggy’s like “yeah he’s a dumb son of a bitch. he’s my dumb son of a bitch tho. every single person in his life walked out on him and i’m not doing the same.” and he’s right. matt’s the like, “kitten abandoned in a cardboard box in the rain” of men. he’s got abandonment issues out his ears and it absolutely is a direct factor leading into why he’s so quick to try and keep people out of his life, at a distance, or why he walks out on people entirely. it doesn’t diminish the pain he causes foggy or karen, but it does show why he ever thought it was the right decision.

i think in that scene foggy’s figuring out that matt thinks all conflict is a fight he needs to defend himself against before matt’s figured it out, and he’s also clocked why exactly it is.

thank you sooooo much for your kind words it made my night. i am also mildly insane so i think it is good company

#pottery shards #pottery shards verse #matt murdock #ask games #glaze defects

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randasar · 6 months ago

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Welcome to RANDASAR, a role-play blog for Randasar, my San'layn from the Moonguard server of World of Warcraft.

The content of this blog is restricted to 18+ due to the nature of the content and my personal comfort.

My name is André, my pronouns are They / Them, I am 30 years old.

This is a side blog, not a main blog - my main blog here is Landaullan.

You can find my rules here it should work just don't be a dick and we should be fine -shrug-.

A small about is under the cut.

While it’s unknown exactly when the one named Randasar became a San’layn, some reports that he was one of the many blood elves that followed Kael'Thas to assault the Frozen Throne, there were others that he was one of the earliest Blood Elves sent in the early days of the War of the Lich King.

No matter the exact timeline of when he was raised, he was one of the many San’layn and Randasar considers himself one of the originals - though that could highly be debated.

He served the Scourge throughout most of the war of the Lich King. Being sent on missions through the entity of Azeroth for one reason or another.

While part of the Scourge, Randasar, was extremely hopeful, though he didn’t know why. Perhaps it was because he believed in what he was doing fully and that he believed that the Scourge would take over Azeroth entirely.

However, as the tide of the war turned, that hope faded and turned into despair, making the San’layn do a handful of disastrous moves, which eventually lead him to being captured by the Kirin Tor of Dalaran and thrown into a cell about six months after the fall of Arthas.

Several attempts of escape were made during the first year of imprisonment, but none of them actually worked. It was where Randasar lingered, his hatred festering and growing for years.

When the Legion assaulted the Dalaran cells again, Randasar had hoped that it would be a chance for escape, but alas, he was not one of the lucky or unlucky ones. With his hope squashed, he went into a spiral of depression and hopelessness.

It was only after an unknown amount of time passed that a Magister known as Shelandia offered Randasar an ultimatum: kill Landaullan and gain his freedom or face an infinite amount of imprisonment again.

Obviously, Randasar accepted the offer and Shelandia orchestrated his release - right under the noses of the Kirin Tor.

The ensuing battle was long and extremely difficult on both of them. As Randasar had gotten in over his head for whom exactly he was fighting and while it did look that Landaullan was going to win the battle, that was when Shelandia sprung the trap.

Shelandia moved to make a massive cave in to trap the both of them inside and during that moment, Randasar took the chance to both kill and raise Landaullan in attempt to save them both.

Little did Randasar know, that would have been the biggest mistake of his life as Landaullan was inside his mind at that time and somehow a bond was made - though, neither one knows exactly what that means, even if raising Landaullan was done out of survival for them rather than anything else.

After Randasar unburied both of them from the rubble, he left Landaullan to deal with the changes on his own. Not out of malice, but because he knew that eventually the other would seek him out when he was ready - he just didn’t know when.

It was years before Landaullan sought him out and came face to face with him. Randasar was harsh, harsher than he should have been - sending Landaullan through rigorous training in an attempt to control himself.

Suffice to say, it didn’t work as well as Randasar hoped and instead, it caused Landaullan to hate him.

Eventually, Randasar ended up getting himself imprisoned by a mercenary group to be closer to Landaullan. To see if maybe he would talk to him in a setting where Randasar was not a threat.

It actually worked and for months Landaullan and Randasar had nightly talks, which the Mercenary group hated.

Eventually, Landaullan was not allowed to see Randasar again for the fear that Randasar would end up controlling Landaullan due to the fact of what they shared, which by far was not the case. Randasar just wanted to get through to Landaullan and eventually he did.

After a trial that involved Landaullan, Randasr was released into Landaullan’s custody and was finally released from that cell.

Randasar returned to Northrend with the offer to still help Landaullan if he wished. At first, Landaullan enjoyed the training, but Landaullan had become far more erratic and unstable - it resulted that one night Randasar pushed Landaullan too far and it resulted in an attack where Landaullan almost killed Randasar. However, just as Landaullan was about to take the killing blow, he stopped himself and vanished without a trace.

Randasar was left in a pool of his own blood and a massive gash on his neck, one that left a massive scar. And while Randasar could have seen if he could heal over the scar, he decided to leave it as a reminder of what happened that night.

Now, it has been months since that incident, he had recovered quite well from it, but Randasar still knows he could have been given a true death that night. He wasn’t and that is on his mind as to why - all the same, he knows that it’s easier to leave Landaullan alone than face him outright.

And so Randasar is trying his best to let Landaullan do as he wants. Even if that is quite difficult for him over-all. And while Randasar may be free - once again- he still has to dodge the forces of the Kirin Tor and the Knights of the Ebon Blade.

He doesn’t fear capture again, he knows he can avoid it, but what he does fear is a true death, now that he is closer than ever to one. He doesn’t have to want to face that prospect ever again.

#( pinned post. )

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neon-moon-beam · 2 years ago

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My roommate (@1863-project) and I have been talking about this for a bit, but it seems like maybe the pandemic/isolation has even affected quality of games lately?

We were talking about how everything in general seems to have dropped in quality (after I ordered a new piece of furniture and was sent half the parts in a different color and we had to call and ask for replacements and this was far from the first inconvenience with this store since 2020) but even games have been this way.

So much of Splatoon 3 suggests they’re out of touch with their fanbase. Nobody wants to lose their rank every “season” (heck, seasons seem pointless as you don’t pay to play the game like you usually do with games that have them), Table Turf is EXTREMELY hit or miss, but you can’t even play with other people at this point and get the same amount of points per win no matter which NPC you challenge, making leveling up a painful grind, Salmon Run still doesn’t give you any EXP and needs a lot of adjusting when it comes to Salmonid movement, player hitboxes, and the glowflies especially, Hero Mode demands perfection when the target audience is young teens (it’s just like Octo Expansion in too many ways but the difference is Octo Expansion wasn’t necessary to complete Splatoon 2′s Hero Mode)...and the bullying in Anarchy Battles is OUT OF CONTROL. Meanwhile the issue with the servers hasn’t been fixed at all despite having a few patches at this point. Whatever is going on feels half-baked and like the devs there forgot this game was intended for kids, and instead put out difficultly levels intended for pros and devs, suggesting maybe the devs got stuck in their own heads during the pandemic. Even the seasons feature would be for pros and devs because they can get their rank up quickly--casual players would barely get their rank up before losing it again. Either that, or they really just want you to play with friends, which it can be hard to find seven other people to play with if not all your friends like or own Splatoon, or can all play at the same time. Unfortunately and unintentionally, these things are gatekeeping casual fans from being able to enjoy the game much, or in the case of Anarchy Battles with random people, to even play the game.

The last three Pokemon games have been abysmal for various reasons. BDSP was outsourced and feels like a reskin of DP with very selective faithfulness to the originals. On the one hand we have only one button on the Poketch, the pacing hasn’t changed so it’s all grinding...basically it seems that the worst of Sinnoh has stayed. But on the other, we have quality of life updates such as Pokemon being able to follow you (which everyone wanted to return since HGSS), accessing the PC boxes from almost anywhere, HMs accessible from the Poketch (but disappointing as it’s the same Pokemon that help each time), and new rooms in the Underground to catch some Pokemon a lot earlier...yet they got rid of the Secret Bases for statues nobody wanted. “Faithful to the originals” seems to be a phrase they pull out only when faced with criticism for the games being nothing like what anyone had hoped for remakes, and for even being broken in some regards. BDSP feels like a game they definitely did not have time for, as well as one they may not have even wanted to make in the first place.

Everyone who’s been on my blog knows I hate PLA and that I haven’t played it in nearly 10 months. The biggest issue is the story; with all the dropped plotlines (INGO, the player character going home, what’s going on with the seemingly one-sided feud between Palina and Irida, the entire Daybreak Mission...to name a FEW) it really feels like multiple people worked on the story and none of them ever got to be in the same room, and they ran out of time and had to release the game as-is. In addition to this, the story contradicts itself a lot (”Pokemon are terrifying and humans and Pokemon must live separately!” yet from the start several people in Jubilife have a partner Pokemon, if not a team, the Diamond and Pearl Clans have several members who live alongside Pokemon, other regions are mentioned as already having people raising Pokemon and battling for fun, etc). As a result, the game feels incredibly unfinished and like the Pokemon Company (not Gamefreak) didn’t even care for it considering they announced Scarlet and Violet a month after its release...and PLA itself was released about two months after BDSP. Both games have been left without DLCs or major improvements, and PLA’s plot was just dropped, making it feel like development wasn’t able to fully come together and the corporate crunch just doesn’t want to have time to let anyone enjoy creating or playing these games before pushing out the next.

Scarlet and Violet...well, everyone is talking about how buggy they are. In addition to this, it’s still not truly “open-world” as you’re forced to do the Gym Challenge once again, and you have to do at least the Gym Challenge AND Titans if you want to be able to catch Pokemon at higher levels and access all areas on the map. The Gyms, Titans, and Team Star Bosses do not level to you so you either have to over-level your current party or be able to catch Pokemon of higher levels, meaning you WILL be doing the Gyms and you WILL be doing them in order according to the Gym Leaders’ Pokemons’ levels. The story could have been great, but gives too little too late. Starfall Street seemed to be the best-paced. Arven’s story gives you his motive early but doesn’t progress again until the final Titan. Nemona needed a lot much earlier because she unfortunately came off the wrong way to many people, as we don’t get any answers until the final part of the main gameplay and postgame. Often I find myself just riding around Paldea, looking for something to do because the trainers you find aren’t a challenge and there’s no sidequests, unless going to class and assisting your teachers counts, but these are more like playable cutscenes. This was a game that needed more time, but wasn’t given it. In many ways it feels like there was a schedule for programming things and once time was up on each segment, they weren’t allowed to go back. The overworld mechanics are much better in Arceus compared to SV, and it’s weird that being able to just throw balls at Pokemon, and have multiple Pokemon out in the overworld didn’t return...unless SV was programmed first and Arceus was actually where they improved things and weren’t able to go back to fix it for SV.

I’m just really wondering how much the pandemic affected how all these games turned out, as they were mostly likely being developed during the worst of it, and seem to be rushed as well as out of touch with what players have been wanting.

#moonbeam's personal posts #just my thoughts and opinions...nothing spectacular...no one has to agree

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potter-imagines · 4 years ago

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Left Waiting at The Three Broomsticks (Fred Weasley x Read)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Request: Hi! I was wondering if I could have a Fred Weasley imagine where he pisses off his gf somehow and so she gives him the silent treatment and only talks to literally everyone (including George) but him so he gets all jealous and pouty lol. Eventually he gets her to start talking to him again and then it’s all fluff etc. Hopefully this wasn’t a confusing request! Thank you!! :)

Warning: Tiny bit of sexual content towards the end, little bit of swearing, kinda angst at the beginning ?? and a lil towards the end ?? I think that's all, a lot of fluff scattered about

Word Count: 9.5k (I am so sorry I got carried away)

Two hours. Y/n had spent two hours waiting for him. Two stupid hours on a Saturday night that she could have spent elsewhere making something productive of her day but no. The last two hours Y/n had been seated in a small booth in the corner of The Three Broomsticks waiting patiently for her boyfriend, Fred Weasley.

The thing that infuriated her the most was that it was his idea in the first place! Originally, the couple had planned a stay-in date in her dorm room for the night before, Friday, but other plans came up. Fred got tangled up in a prank with George that had landed him in detention with Snape for the night. Yes, it annoyed her but what could she do? It wasn’t like Snape would excuse Fred because she tells him they have a date. If anything, Snape would hold him back longer.

When Fred and George were finally dismissed, it was nearly eleven at night and Fred was sprinting down through the dungeons to the common room. Their arrangement was for eight and he was praying to anyone listening above that she was still awake, but not furious at him.

Skipping up the transporting stairs, Fred basically shouted the secret password at the Fat Lady making her narrow her eyes at him. She swung open, not without muttering about how rude he was, and Fred jumped inside. Ten or so students were scattered around the common room, chatting amongst themselves. Hermione, Ron and Harry sat around the couch near the grand fireplace. They sent Fred a wave, which he frantically returned. The golden trio watched in curiosity as Fred darted up the stairs of the girl’s dormitory.

Hermione looked back to the group and asked,

“Wonder what that’s about- he seemed in a hurry.”

“Heard him and George got detention. They put stink-bombs in the Slytherin common room! Heard it stained some of the furniture maroon!” Ron chuckled at his brother’s antics then resumed his debate with Harry over their thoughts on the Quidditch World Cup happening every four years. Harry tried to explain the concept of the Olympics to Ron, but Ron was too focused on how amazing it would be for the World Cup to happen each year. Hermione went back to her studies, blocking out the mindless bickering of the boys.

Above the common room, Fred Weasley was scurrying to his girlfriend’s dorm room. He hoped Angelina and Alicia were out so he could be alone with her. Their time spent together had been oddly less than usual the last few weeks. Fred had no change of heart- actually, he found himself falling more in love with her every day, but their final year at Hogwarts was creeping up from the woods and he was working on a dream career behind the scenes with George that was eating up his time with her. He had shared this idea with her before- but it was just an idea then. Fred and George planned on putting their dreams to action once they finished up the next year. He wanted her to come- George did as well, but he didn’t want to mention it until it was a reality.

Reaching his destination Fred took a second to compose himself. A thin line of sweat was forming near his forehead. This was the first chance he had to take a breather since detention ended. Fixing his dark robes Fred knocked against the door, quiet enough not to startle her but loud enough to hear.

“Y/n… Y/n… love, are you awake? It’s Fred-“

Abruptly, the heavy wooden door cracked open and a weary looking girl poked her head out into the quietness.

“Darling, did I wake you up? I’m so sorry.” Fred stepped forward and wrapped the girl in a tight embrace. Y/n’s head fell against his chest out of instincts. His arms fastened around her waist as he invited himself in the room, slowly walking her back.

“Here, go back to bed, love. You look exhausted.” Fred led the sluggish girl to her familiar bed. Throwing back the covers, he readjusted her pillows so there would be room for him to fit as well. Fred then walked back to Y/n and took her hand softly. Kissing the back of her hand, Fred helped Y/n get into bed then slipped in beside her. His arms snaked around her body without thought. The naturalness of holding her in his arms made Fred feel confident in his dreams of starting a future with her. All the tension in his body collapsed when she leaned into his frame. Fred held her close and kissed the side of her cheek lovingly.

“I’m sorry about detention tonight but I promise I’ll take you out Saturday, alright? We can have a date at Hogsmeade and spend the night together, does that sound nice?”

The sleepy witch gave a tired mumble and nodded her head. She was cuddled under a stack of blankets, wearing Fred’s sweatshirt which made him smile. He’d usually crack a joke at this and tease her but, she was already asleep when he looked back to her. Fred couldn’t help but stare at her for a while. There was never a moment that went by where Fred didn’t think of Y/n as anything other than beautiful but in these moments, she looked ethereal.

Moonlight poured in from the open window and splashed across her s/c cheeks. Her hair was sprawled against the white pillowcase. Fred smiled at the sound of her light snores. Fred wouldn’t leave until he was sure she was deep asleep. It was their thing. She hated going to bed without him there.

“Okay, I love you, Y/n. Get some sleep, angel.” Fred whispered.

He pecked her forehead, then kissed her lips gently. Removing the covers, Fred tucked them back into Y/n so she could keep warm. He closed the open window then tip toed out of the room. Instead of rejoining his friends, Fred decided to head to his room. He felt too guilty for missing out on their plans to go have his own fun. Anyways he did have a Potions paper coming up and if he was going to spend the day with you Saturday, he surely wouldn’t be doing any homework.

So, the plan was confirmed the next morning, Friday. Y/n ran into Fred on her way to breakfast and they discussed where they’d meet and a time. They ate breakfast together, walked to class, then headed in different directions when six rolled around. Fred had a Quidditch match and she had a group project, so they didn’t cross paths for the rest of the night. Even though he refused to admit it, Fred absolutely hated when Y/n missed one of his games. His favorite thing to do was search for her in the stands during each game and it made him sad not to see her smiling face standing out in the crowd. Y/n entered the common room around midnight and went straight for her bed. Gryffindor had lost so there wasn’t a single housemate sitting in the common room. She could only imagine how upset Fred must be, she’d be hearing about it tomorrow. Y/n giggled to herself at the recollection of Fred’s angry rants about his teammates to you in private. She basically crawled to her bed, dreaming about the handsome, goofy, witty twin that had captured her heart.

Which would bring us to Saturday night. Fred and Y/n had made specific plans; they were to meet at The Three Broomsticks at seven then hangout for a while and spend the rest of their night sneaking around the castle with the help of The Marauder’s Map. Fred had practice at six so he was planning on meeting up with the girl at the pub. Y/n expected him to be running late- it wouldn’t be Fred if he didn’t show up a good twenty minutes late.

Only Fred never showed up at seven thirty, not at eight, and by the time nine neared, he was still nowhere in sight. The Three Broomsticks would stay open for a few more hours but the thought of sitting there alone for any longer, jumping at the sound of the door every time it opened, it made Y/n feel less than sane.

Throwing a handful of coins on the table, Y/n thanked her server then exited through the front doors. The walk back to the castle wasn’t long but being with Fred made it a lot more amusing. He’d pick her flowers, give her piggy back rides, play games, race, and hold her hand the whole walk back.

This time, Y/n walked alone hugging the material of her raincoat to her chest. A light drizzle had been pouring on and off for most of the day. Earlier, it was perfectly bearable- hardly noticeable. Although the weather had only worsened as the night grew darker. Hard rain drops crashed against Y/n coat, cascading down her covered arms and bouncing to the wet ground. Her black boots were soaked. She could feel the water rising to her socks, one of her biggest hatreds. Wet socks.

The hood of her jacket only helped so much before the pelting raindrops started to seep to her hair. Typically, Y/n loved the rain. If Fred was here, they’d be dancing right now. But he wasn’t, she had no clue where he was and that was exactly what Y/n was headed to find out.

By the time Y/n made it back to the castle and up to the Gryffindor common room, it was past ten.

Much as Y/n had expected, the common room was lively with energy and conversations. Katie, Alicia, and Angelina were all sitting in a circle with Fred, George, Lee Jordan, Seamus, and Dean. A dark bottle of Dragon Barrel brandy and Daisyroot Draught were being passed amongst them. Y/n watched as Fred leaned into his brother’s side, obviously tipsy and slurring his words while he practically shouted to their friends who were only sitting feet away.

His frame twitched with every small hiccup he let out. The whole group was smiling, they were happy. Y/n wondered to herself if Fred even noticed that she wasn’t there. She wondered if he liked it more when she wasn’t there, they were having fun and although the group was also her friends, no one was interested enough to invite her. Biting on the tender skin of her bottom lip, Y/n bundled her fist to her sides. The anger refused to simmer, only continued to boil. Her dripping clothes weren’t helpful to her sour mood.

It wasn’t the fault of her friends, no, but they were bound to get caught in the crossfires. Fred was the one who left her waiting for hours on end. Her chest was tight- livid yet sad all at once. It was an aggravating feel, unfamiliar. Y/n hated the suffocation entering her drying throat. More than anything she longed to handle situations like these in an aloof fashion. The last thing wanted was to wear her emotions on her sleeve, but she couldn’t help it. Her head screamed ‘just go to bed, ignore him’ but her heart wanted to scream at him and let him know just how bad he had hurt her. Her breathing quickened, each inhale received a choppy exhale.

For the first time, Y/n decided not to join her friends or to even say a word to Fred about how he stood her up. She was sick of it- completely exhausted and drained from his lack of care and presences in their relationship the last few weeks. If he wanted her as bad as he claimed, he’d find a way to show it. And leaving her sitting alone in a noisy pub while he partied and drank with their friends, showed her the exact opposite of his words.

Diverting her leer from the inebriated group and studied the rest of the room, hearing voices near the sitting area. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville were all staring at Y/n in mixed judgement. Harry, Ron and Neville looked concerned by the appearance of Y/n. Hermione on the other hand, she was absolutely flabbergasted, Y/n could see the pity written on her face. You had mentioned having a date night with Fred in Hogsmeade to the four the night before. Harry had invited Y/n to hangout with them and visit Hagrid, but she politely declined and informed them about the special night Fred had planned for them.

Harry and Hermione stood up at the same time ready to comfort the teary-eyed girl. They motioned her over but just as she started towards them, Angelina Johnson noticed her friend who had been absent for most of the night. Setting the bottle of brandy down, Angelina wobbled up to her feet and smiled giddily,

“Y/n! Come- come drink with us! I was wondering where you- why… why’re you all wet?”

As the words fell from her mouth, a crowd of eyes planted on Y/n. Her fists clenched, bone white knuckles visible, at her sides. Angelina scurried over to her friend and wrapped her in a tender hug. If the scenario had been different, she’d gladly join in the fun but there wasn’t an ounce in her body that desired a drink.

Y/n’s eyes found their way to the boy she had been longing for all night. Her lips quivered, the anger and sadness reaching it’s overpour. He looked so handsome, so happy, but it meant nothing to her.

Pulling back, Angelina squinted in confusion at Y/n. The lack of embrace given back had thrown her off. The group had been awaiting her arrival, no one was quite sure where she’d gone off to. Angelina scanned Y/n’s reddening face, noticing the emotions bubbling under the surface.

Moving away, the dark-skinned girl turned to her friends. No one else seemed to notice the offset of Y/n’s attitude.

“Angel, where have you been? I missed you!” Fred’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. Quickly standing up, he held his hand out to his girlfriend. Y/n shot a dangerous look to his outreach, then up to his face. Usually she’d find his toothy grin and childlike state loveable but for obvious reasons, it made her irate.

Stepping back, Y/n sternly scowled at Fred,

“Missed me? You’re the one who left me waiting all goddamn night, Fred Weasley.”

A part of Y/n felt guilty for forcing her friends to witness their unpleasant exchange. George was now to his feet standing behind Fred, just as lost as the group he had been sitting with. Despite the alcohol running in his veins, George could sense an argument budding by the second.

“Not like any of you really seemed to care where I was.” Y/n kicked herself for this cold statement.

Her friends weren’t at fault- not in the slightest. But everyone was at risk of becoming a victim to her fiery wrath. In actuality, it did hurt her a little that no one had gone searching for her. It had been hours! Tears welled in her eyes as she took in the reactions of the group. George took his arm off Alicia and nudged his twin.

“What- I don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout, love. I think you should have a drink and loosen up-“

Y/n couldn’t take it. She just couldn’t take it anymore. Scrunching her face, she used every bit of strength to force her salty tears to hide at bay. Although her emotions screamed to be heard and saw right through her façade. Sweeping her hand across her cheek, Y/n caught the stray tears that rolled down her rosy cheeks. Huffing all her emotions out at once, Y/n shook Fred away from her and hurried towards her room.

Fred stood appearing dumbfounded. He could only gawk in perplexity. Blame it on the alcohol, but Fred’s mind was drawing a blank when surveying her words. For most of the night, he was the one thinking she was leaving him waiting. No one else had a clue as to where she’d gone off to, so he assumed she was in the library or wanted some space.

“You’re an idiot, Fred.” Hermione’s sharp voice cut through the thick air. The happiness and drunken laughter was extinct. The girl’s shared an exchange, all confused as to what just happened. The glass bottles didn’t help clear their judgement. Dean and Seamus took small sips from the Daisyroot Draught. The tension was unbearable, it felt wrong for their friends to be a part of it.

George set a hand on Fred’s shoulder, pulling him back slightly. Leaning forward, George whispered to his twin,

“I reckon it’s best if we turn it in for the night.” Fred gave a tug of protest. His intoxicated fought against him though he knew he did something wrong and needed to find Y/n. In spite of his desire to chase after the girl, George couldn’t let him do that. It was obvious Fred had forgotten something and Y/n was more than upset. Sending his brother up to drunkenly apologize to his hurting girlfriend for a reason he can’t even recall, that was a recipe for disaster and would only cause a bigger mess.

“Fred, you’re going to bed. You’re too drunk to talk to Y/n right now, okay? We’re going up the boy’s stairs, not the girls, okay? You two can talk in the morning, maybe you’ll remember where you fucked up tonight by then.”

Suddenly, Fred stop moving and let out a low groan,

“Oh shit… merlin’s sake, I fucked up, George. Oh my god- Hogsmeade… shit! I told her we’d meet at Hogsmeade and I forgot-“Fred whipped around in his discombobulated state. Everything clicked at once. Fred had been so concentrated on Quidditch that once practice had wrapped up, his exhausted body dragged him back to the common room out of muscle memory. It was his typical routine; Quidditch practice, head back to his dorm, shower, change, eat, work on some possible products with George, then hangout with his friends. How could he be so neglectful?

George sent his brother a comforting look then grabbed him by the shoulders, helping aid him up the winding staircase. It came as a shock to him that Fred had forgotten about their date. All he spoke about was Y/n, it was a rare occurrence for the couple to

“So that’s where she’s been all night?” George pushed open the door to their room, looking to his twin sternly. Fred had most of his weight piled on George, trying his hardest to remain upright. Lee had decided to stay back, allowing the brothers a chance to talk.

George helped his frantic twin in the dark room, then gave him a light push towards his bed. Fred plopped down, burying his face in the fluffy pillow. Pulling off his jumper, George threw the large maroon comforter over Fred’s tall frame while he wailed,

“I’m a terrible boyfriend. I planned the bloody date too! I left her-“

“How ‘bout you get some rest? You can find her in the morning and apologize to her and… hope for the best. It’ll give you more time to think of a way to make it up to her. You’re just a rambling mess right now.” The alcohol was not wearing George down. He had been on an adrenaline high since his second shot. This was the first moment of the night where he had stepped back. His tiresome hands rubbed against his face as he made his way to his bed and collapsed on it.

Fred was still moaning on, the sound of his drunken voice making it harder for George to fight back the urge to sleep,

“She’s gonna dump my sorry ass-“

“Go to bed, Fred. It’ll be okay.”

George let out a sigh of exhaustion. The twins had been best friends with Y/n since they were just children, new to Hogwarts and unfamiliar with the power of magic. It pained him to see his brother hurt, but it also hurt to see Y/n upset. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Turning his head, George let out a breathy chuckle at the sight of his twin passed out cold. The worry that dripped from his voice was now gone as he eased into his dreamland.

George wanted to scold him, knock him upside the head for skipping out on Y/n again. He cared a lot about her, she was basically a sister, a triplet to him. If Fred was gonna win her back, it wasn’t going to be easy, George knew this. Y/n was stubborn, and the twins had witnessed this first hand for years, it was a trait they loved, when not directed towards either of them.

As George’s head hit the pillow, all he could do was pray to Godrick that the morning would bring good news.

Sunday morning arrived much faster than Y/n had hoped. A bright, loud, light interrupted her sleep as the gears in her head started to turn. Her mind was groggy, the events of last night were foggy. Warm sunlight broke through the glass stained windows. Y/n wiped her eyes and slowly sat up. Her mouth was dry, screaming for a drink of water.

For a minute, she felt calm- happy almost. The room was half empty; Angelina’s bed was bare and Alicia laid in a star-fish position, a snore sounding from her mouth. The image made Y/n laugh.

Standing up, Y/n’s hands flew above her head as she stretched. She cracked her back, a morning ritual for the girl. Just as she reached for the knob of her dresser, a wave of recollection nearly knocked her off her feet.

Fred had stood her up, of course, how could she forget? The irritated skin under her eyes and nose suddenly made sense. Leaning against the wooden cabinet, Y/n huffed. It was times like these she wished she could crawl into bed and stay there for eternity. Nothing would get better though if she didn’t at least try to fix it.

As quick as the thought came, it had evaporated once more. Why did she have to be the one to put forth the effort to fix things? There was no use in fixing their relationship if Fred wasn’t willing to try too. More than try, Y/n thought. It took a piece of her when she came back to the castle just to see him drinking with their friends, not thinking a thought of her. She needed to see that he cared. His words held no value to her anymore, not until he could prove he meant what he said.

Y/n went through her morning routine like a snail, wanting to drag out her time. Eventually, she was fully dressed and ready for the day. She liked to take advantage of the days her school robes weren’t required. The cooling weather led her to a fuzzy black sweater, and light washed jeans. Sliding her delicate wand into her back pocket, Y/n exited the room and took the stairs down to the common room.

Approaching the bottom of the steps, Y/n could hear familiar voices exchanging hush words. She stepped into the room and was surprised to see the lack of students. The only ones present were sat one the long leather couch on the left half of the massive room. All of their gazes fell on Y/n.

Fred, George, Ron, Angelina, Harry and Hermione were all relaxing- well all of them except Fred. He on the other hand was frantic- disheveled. His knee bounced in anticipation. The clock was sneaking

“Oh, uh, hey Y/n!” Ron Weasley moved his hand side to side, waving to Y/n. The temptation to admire the handsome boy at his side leaped into her heart. Using every ounce of strength, Y/n trained her eyes on Ron, not allowing a single peek at Fred.

“Hey, Y/n/n!” The voice of Angelina brought a perk to Y/n’s head.

“Hi.” She greeted the younger Weasley and her close friend back, then headed for the portrait. Before she could make it half the distance, the tall figure of her boyfriend appeared.

“Angel, how did you sleep?” Fred was by her side in an instant. He was desperately trying to read her expression, testing the waters to see her mood. He had hardly slept, he spent most of the night thinking about this exact moment, when he’d have the chance to apologize and make it up to the girl he loved. “Can we please talk? I’m really sorry for last night, honestly, I am so so sorry, darling.”

Y/n stared at him, or rather, through him. It was like she didn’t see the tall wizard in front of her.

“I’m gonna go study, I’ll meet you with you guys later.”

“Y/n, love-“ His warm hand took hold of her of her own, an action she’d typically love. The familiar grasp sent a burst of comfort in her stomach, but she ignored it.

Wiggling out of his grip, the girl shot him a look of displeasure then rushed off. Hermione chased after her, no one else brave enough to step in. Besides, Hermione was one of her closest friends. Watching the younger girl follow after her roommate, Angelina walked after them. Fred stomped like a toddler having a tantrum as the portrait swung open then closed. He knew he had to do something- anything to get her to talk to him again, and that was his plan.

For a Sunday evening, the school library was relatively empty. A majority of the students occupying the tables were studying away for their O.W.L.S. The exams weren’t for another two months but hardly anyone dared to procrastinate until the last week before opening their books. The stress of the exams was enormous, but the students still had other classes to keep in mind.

Y/n Y/n/l and George Weasley were sitting across from on another at a study table. Three hefty textbooks were open as the two discussed their Potions paper. Y/n had been stuck on hers and George had yet to start so they decided to head to the library together and get it done.

Fred was usually right by their side, his hand wrapped around Y/n’s shoulders, but she neglected an invite for him. About an hour after their exchange in the common room, Y/n had apologized to each friend she had snapped on the night prior. They were understanding, clearly seeing where her frustrations had come for. They also felt bad as she was right, no one had even checked to see where she’d gone, and George especially felt terrible for not searching for his friend.

At least three hours had passed since the two Gryffindors started their study session. Y/n was sneaking up on her last two pages while George still had three left. They collaborated every few minutes, then returned to tranquil silence, scribbling away.

Y/n was in the middle of sharing her idea for the last section of her paper when George’s eyes brighten and he interrupted her,

“Fred, how nice of you to join us.”

Turning in her chair, Y/n found her boyfriend standing behind her with a nervous smile. She hated how perfect he looked, even in the poor lighting of the library. He still managed to make her breath hitch in the back of her throat.

“Hi, Y/n. You look beautiful as always.” Fred announced himself softly. George scoffed teasingly, muttering a ‘hello’ to himself to make up for his brother ignoring him. Freds words were genuine though didn’t make much of a difference. Y/n was still hurt and a compliment wasn’t going to mend that. She needed to feel it, to see him truly show that he cared- that she meant something to him. That she was deserving of his time. Sweet comments didn’t not add up to that feeling.

George closed his textbook, then glanced up at his twin,

“Should I leave?”

Before Fred could answer, Y/n slammed her hand on top of George’s Potions book. Wide eyed and frightened, the boy gaped in shock. Even Fred was taken aback by her unexpecting movement. Leering at her friend Y/n replied,

“No. I want you to stay, we were in the middle of a conversation.”

Fred’s heart dropped at her words. It was heartbreaking to have the girl of his dreams now shunning him- brushing him off with ease. It was driving him mad. All he wanted was for her to acknowledge him, give him a little hope that he can earn his way back in her heart. He loved her, every bit of him loved her.

All he wanted was to make it up to her for his mistakes the night before. He couldn’t stop thinking about the look on her face when she saw him sitting with their friends. She was miles exceeded hurt- more devastated at his negligence than hurt alone.

Maybe it was the fear of meeting the reality that losing Y/n was a possibility, but Fred experienced a new sort of emotion when his girlfriend asked for his brother to stay. Yes, they’re friends, all three of them are. Fred had to remind himself of this like a record on repeat. He couldn’t fight the envy off though.

It made his heart twist as she stared at George. Never did he think he’d be jealous of his own twin, but Fred was livid. The seething stream of covetousness overtook his veins. Fred wanted to be the one you ran to for comfort, not his brother. His entire life he had shared everything with George, Y/n was far too meaningful to Fred for her to be shared.

Now it does take two for a turn of events like that to happen. Fred knew, clear as day, that George had no romantic feelings for Y/n and she had none for George. This was true, but for some reason, it didn’t help tame Fred’s envy.

He knew causing a jealous scene would do no good for anyone, so Fred realigned his train of thought and asked,

“Could I steal you from that conversation, please love? I really need to apologize to you.”

Fred allowed his hands to reveal themselves from their previous position hiding behind his back. When he moved them, a full bouquet of colorful flowers and small green plants of different shapes and sizes. The flowers were a display of fuchsia, pink, orange, red, and yellow. They were beautiful, so beautiful, Y/n thought to herself. She couldn’t help the gasp that slipped past her lips.

Fred had gotten her flowers their first-year dating but since the last month or so, she hadn’t received many of his heartwarming gifts. It wasn’t the monocle value of a present but the thought and attention to care that captured Y/n’s heart. Fred had always been the best at creating meaningful gifts on a tight budget. Whether it was flowers he stole from school grounds, or necklaces he made out of stones she found around the Great Lake. He’d make her perfume- proving rather excellent in the Potions department. He also asked Molly to teach him how to knit in order to make Y/n a sweater. This of course delighted Molly over the moon.

George bit on the skin of his knuckles to keep for laughing at his brother. He recognized the flowers, as did Y/n. Fred had picked them from the garden outside the castle- something that had earned him a detention before. George decided not to comment on his observation, Fred was sure to murder him in his sleep if he put his apology in any jeopardy.

Fred extended the bouquet to his flustered girlfriend. He felt a sense of accomplishment while watching her reaction. It was small to most, but for as stubborn as she was, it was big in his eyes. The girl reached forward, accepting the gift with a tiny smile rising to her lips, one she didn’t force down.

For the first time since the night before, Y/n fully saw Fred. She peered directly at him silently. George glanced between the two, stuck between a dual. Without speaking, Fred took some steps forward and pulled the chair next to Y/n out. He slipped into the seat, the couple still staring at each other. Y/n studied his demeanor, he didn’t push her anymore, but he wouldn’t leave her side. Not that she would tell him but, she was happy he joined in. She didn’t want him to leave, she had missed being around him. Tearing herself away, Y/n focused herself back on the other twin.

“As I was saying, George…”

Fred drowned out the words but accepted the fact that Y/n didn’t reject him from sitting down. She also didn’t set the flowers down for the rest of their study session. The remained clutched in her hands, resting in her lap the whole time.

Monday night came in the blink of an eye. Classes had resumed and the castle was bustling in stress. When the end of the year neared, the time spent sitting through lectures was an eternity, while the weekends flew by. Fred had always hated summer break, actually, that’s not entirely true. His dismissive of break budded around the same time his relationship with Y/n became official.

Their first two years, she would spend the holiday back home in London with her family. She loved her family but once she experienced her first holiday at the Burrow, she never wanted to miss another. Her family was a bit distant, not the warm and welcoming pure-bloods like the Weasley’s, but not as cold as the Malfoy’s. Y/n’s family had no issues with her spending breaks at the Burrow, as long as she had Molly and Arthur Weasley’s approval. Molly insisted each time that there was no need for her to even ask to stay. They accepted her with open arms, ecstatic to see Fred had found such a lovely girl.

The end of the school term was coming up and Fred needed to fix things with Y/n before that happened. She planned to spend the break at his family’s home and he feared she’d take her agreement back if things weren’t improved between them. Spending almost two days stuck in the anger of his love was two days too many. Fred was going to fix this and he planned the best idea he could think of, good thing he had their friends happily available to help.

Unbeknownst to Y/n, while she was resting up from her illness Harry, Ron, Lee and George were helping Fred create his masterplan. Hermione helped in her own way by remaining near Y/n’s dorm, sitting in as the lookout. It gave her an excuse to get her school work done so she didn’t protest.

Alicia and Angelina stayed in the room. Once Y/n started to feel better, thanks to Madam Pomfrey, the girl’s altered Hermione who passed the news along to Harry as the chain continued until it reached Fred. At the confirmation, his plan was set into action. Ron was sent to retrieve the girl after Alicia and Angelina convinced her to get some food from the dining hall.

She walked through the common room then down the moving staircase, when her redheaded friend popped up. Ron scared the girl, making her stumble back, her hand placed over her chest.

“Y/n! I’m so glad I ran into you! No one has seen you all day- Angelina said you were feeling ill this morning.” Ron rambled at a fast pace. Y/n, still surprised by his sudden arrival, took a deep inhale, nodding to the boy,

“Yeah, I saw Madam Pomfrey this morning when classes started. I just had a stomach bug and she said I’d have to wait it out but the medicine she gave me seems to be doing the trick.” Y/n gave Ron a kind smile. Ron was two years younger than her but they had always been great friends. Y/n would travel to the Burrow as a guest of the twins during the holiday breaks, so Ron and her had spent a lot of time hanging out together. It was sweet of him to ask how she was doing, but he didn’t seem that her health was the reason for their conversation.

“That’s good to hear. You wouldn’t happen to be heading anywhere, are you?”

“Just to get some food. I’m starving-“ Ron nodded eagerly, cutting his friend off in the process.

“That’s great! I mean, not great, just… well… uh, follow me please!” Scrambling like a mess, Ron clasped his hand over Y/n’s wrist and abruptly dragged her down the stone corridor. She couldn’t find the words to question him and allowed Ron to lead the way. Her curiosity was far too big to ignore his odd request.

Ron carried on for another five minutes then took a sharp turn, heading for the courtyard. Two figures ran off around the side of the castle in the darkness. Y/n swore she recognized the pair as George and Lee. What were they up to? Snapping her head to the younger boy, Y/n waited for him to fill her in on why he had dragged her halfway across the castle to the freezing courtyard.

“Okay! We’re here- I’m just gonna… head out. See ya, Y/n!” Ron rushed his farewell then ran off towards the direction George and Lee had escaped to. What in the world is going on? Left by herself without any explanation, Y/n threw her hand up in annoyance.

“What?”

Alone in the cold, Y/n wrapped the opening of her fuzzy cardigan against her body, attempting to keep warm. Although warmth entered her vein as a pair of arms snaked around her waist, snatching her backwards into a firm surface. She gasped, thrown off by her attacker and tried to turn in retaliation, but their grasp was far too firm. The familiarity of the hold made her body ease up. As much time as the spent together, she could recognize his touch anywhere. Fred.

His touch released a swarm of butterflies through the girl. She could feel the anger washing away as she leaned her body into his chest, having pined for his arms for two too many days than she was accustomed to.

The tall Gryffindor held her tightly. Moving forward, Fred pressed his lips against the shell of Y/n’s ear. The heat of his breath causing her to shudder as he whispered,

“I’m so happy you came, darling.”

Y/n smirked, looking up at him. The concurrent willfulness of her nature could only carry on for so long until her headstrong demeanor crumbled. A pang of chagrin still grumbled in her stomach but the sight in front of her certainly was a runner in her change of heart.

Soaking in her surroundings, Y/n realized they were just a few hundred feet outside Hargid’s hut. This explained the garden full of massive orange pumpkins. In the middle of the path was a small gazebo decorated in fairy lights and sunflowers. A small table set for two was tucked inside. Small teacup white candles line the path, creating a runway of sorts. Another candle, larger and purple, sat flickering in the breeze in the center of the neat table.

Y/n stood motionless absorbing the creation her boyfriend made- all for her. Speechlessness was not common for Y/n so Fred undoubtably began to second guess if his efforts were good enough. His fears were stomped in a matter of moments when Y/n harshly yanked at the material of his collar and placed a brisk, short kiss to his lips. Fred was startled, losing the opportunity to kiss her back but Y/n didn’t want him to. It gave her a sense of control- they still had issues they needed to work out, but she loved him nonetheless. Besides, avoiding and staying mad at Fred forever? Impossible. In two days, Y/n had to stop herself a million different times from approaching Fred and sharing a laugh with him, or kissing him, or holding his hand and giving him a hug. She didn’t want to fight off the urge anymore- and Fred couldn’t handle the distance spaced between them. Thus, being the motivation for his grand, heartfelt, date.

“I’ll assume that means you like it. I won’t take all the credit- it was my idea, but our friends are the main reason I was able to pull this off. I feel really bad and… I need to do something special for you- I don’t do that enough lately. I forget sometimes to remind you how important you are in my life and how much I love you.” Fred sheepishly smiled, nervously awaiting her reaction.

The small table was set, a new bundle of crimson red roses placed on her seat. To the side of her plate was a small box with a beautifully wrapped ribbon tied to the top. Fred had a special way of showing his love and adoration for his girlfriend, but even this was new to her. Never before had he gone so over the top to prove his feelings to her.

Y/n lifted her hand and intertwined it with Fred’s, smiling up at him,

“It’s gorgeous, Freddie.” The bashful smile made Fred’s heart melt on sight. He had prepared himself for the repetitive rejection she had been sending, so when she whispered those sweet words, his chest tightened, and his pace stopped.

Fred almost fainted in shock at the sound of her voice. He squeezed her light hand and drew it back, forcing her body into his own. Y/n couldn’t help the laugh that fell from her lips. She missed his playful ways. With the foreheads pressed against each other, Fred grinned,

“I’ve missed your voice, love.”

Although his words made her heart take flight, the reality of her hurt was still roaming. Y/n detached herself from his grasp and rested her hand on the black metal table. Her fingertips fumbled with the white cloth, it served as a distraction only for a short period of time. Fred sent her a sorrowful look. Her shift in moods was confusing to him, he only wanted to make things better.

Y/n sighed and ran her hand through her h/c locks. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply then asked,

“Why don’t you have time for me anymore, Fred?” The question of the night- or rather month. His date was beautiful, absolutely stunning. As riveting as it was, it couldn’t erase the hurt she had been experiencing.

Fred shook his head frantically, dismissing the accusation. He knew why she would think that way, he understood. It wasn’t true, though. Actions speak louder than words and Fred despised the fact that recently, his feelings for Y/n weren’t lining up with his actions. His words could only do so much. But he also knew soon, things would be different. Missing the Hogsmeade date was his fault, and he paid for it. Two days might seem minute to most, but when you spend essentially everyday attached to someone’s hip, two days of them purposely ignoring you and speaking to every soul expect you, it can feel like a lifetime. He realized a few things in this time.

Fred remembered how fun it was to act as if he was still trying to win her over. Gifts, no matter their cost, always brought a gleam to her face which never failed to make Fred grin. However, it was much more entertaining when she wasn’t upset with him and would throw the flirtatious comments right back at him. He was also reminded of how lucky he was to be with Y/n. While she ignored him, Fred found himself envious of every living being Y/n spoke to, as they were not him. When he started engulfing himself in his plans for the joke shop, his effort in his relationship had decreased and this was something he vowed to never let happen again.

“I’ll always have time for you, darling. And if I don’t, I’ll make some. I truly am sorry about this weekend- you don’t deserve that.”

“It just seems like you’re distracted, like you don’t care anymore.” Y/n batted her reddening eyes, finally throwing her worries to the air.

“No, no, Y/n, not at all. I’m so sorry I made you feel that way, love. I’m a terrible excuse of a boyfriend, I never meant to create this mess. I love you so much.” Fred’s head bowed down. It tore him up to know the way his actions made her feel, the only girl he loved.

“I love you too, Freddie. I really do but I can’t feel alone in this relationship. I let our date Friday slide, even though I was annoyed, but Saturday night? I feel like it broke me. Just knowing you forgot about me-“ Y/n fought back the burning sensation in her eyes as the tears began to brim.

The anxiety blooming inside her was clear to Fred. Suppose that was the downside to dating your best friend, they can always tell when somethings wrong. Before a tear could hit the floor, he whisked her to the iron garden chair, then kneels before her, his hands holding her face as if it was a priceless, dainty piece of china.

“I didn’t forget about you, darling, that’s impossible to do. I’ve been… well I’ve been working on something with George for when we leave school next year. It’s real important to me and I wanted to share it with you but I was scared that it might not happen but… if I have your support and you with us, I know it’ll happen.”

“What’re you rambling on about, Fred?”

“Remember how I told you that George and I wanted to open a joke shop? Well, it’s happening… I think. We’re really close, we just gotta make it through next year then we’re free! We’ll have our own joke shop and get to sell our own products and start our future.”

A silence overtook the atmosphere. Y/n’s lips were stuck open in a small ‘o’ shape, eyes glued to the floor. Was he really going to leave her all alone next year? Would they have to break up? Surely, he wouldn’t want to be in a long-distance relationship.

She was snapped from her own mind when her skin registered the touch of Fred’s lips as they traced her knuckles, kissing each finger as he did. His eyes then peered up to meet her own. She could tell he was serious by the feeling of his stare. Then he continued, making Y/n perk up,

“But none of that can happen without you… Y/n I want you to come with me. Move in with George and I, start a future with me. We want you to be a part of the shop. I want you there. You’re the only girl I want, for the rest of my life.”

Her once open mouth clamped shut in a swift motion. Ever since she met the twins, Y/n wanted a future with Fred. Everyone saw it as a childhood crush, but she always knew it was more. She never stopped loving him- never could. Even when his pranks took a step too far over the line. They always found their way back to each other and would work through it. Fights such as the most recent were rare- but Fred’s admission filled in a lot of empty spaces that had left Y/n sleepless for days. Finally, the crushing weight was lifted from her chest as she choked out a shaky breath.

Leaping forward from the chair, Y/n threw her body into her boyfriend’s body and clamped him in a koloa like hold. Fred chuckled in amusement, falling onto the near ground at her jump.

“Why do you have to be so lovable? I hate it. I should be angry with you, but I just love you too much. Besides, I think you did enough suffering.” She giggled as she pinched his round cheeks in her hands. Fred poked his tongue out at her and grabbed at her sides. Y/n swatted his hands away, giving him a stern glare saying, ‘don’t push it’.

Slowly, she leaned down and brushed her lips against Fred’s, smirking down at him. It was a change in roles. In their more adult situations, Fred was typically the one on top with Y/n pinned below him, but that’s a story for another time.

A small, almost whimper, sound came from Fred. He hated being teased- that was his job. Dragging out the moment, Y/n tugged on the skin of his bottom lip with her teeth, earning a groan of approval from Fred. She grazed over his mouth one last time before dipping her head down to meet his and interlocking their lips, still straddling his waist. Fred’s hips pushed towards her core out of instinct. Not ready to give in quite yet, Y/n lifted her body and shifted forward, entrapping Fred even more so in the heated kiss.

They parted for seconds to sneak a bit of air, then continued their needed make out. It had been a while since they proved their love to each other in this way. For the last month, it had been small kisses here and there when the couple had a chance to see each other. Y/n needed his touch- she needed him. Fred longed to have under him, pleasuring her. He desperately wanted to sink his head between her legs and really show her just how much he loved her.

The coldness of his fingertips hit Y/n’s skin as his fingers dug into the sides of her waist. As much as she longed to keep the exchange going, the last thing either of them needed was a detention.

Y/n plucked herself away, a small pout lining Fred’s lips. His hands remained tied up in her own, lying them on his stomach. The weight of his question seeped in like molasses. Opportunities like this presented themselves once in a lifetime, there was no way Y/n was going to let it slip by.

Rolling off his lap, Y/n plopped down on the ground to the side of Fred. Their heads turned simultaneously towards each other, Fred winking to Y/n.

This is what she wanted. To see him care for her, show his love. His attention. It was the one thing she had been striving for but now that the cat, or rather joke shop, was out of the bag, Fred didn’t feel the need to hide anything from her anymore and keep his work to himself. He was over the moon with excitement to have her join George and himself. It was everything he could hope for.

Coyly averting her peer, Y/n asked,

“Do you really mean it, Fred? You really want me to come with you and George?”

Kindly, Fred swiped his thumb under her chin and raised her head up so their eyes were level.

“I wouldn’t want you anywhere else in the world then with me.” The serenity in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. Y/n propped herself up to her elbows and brought Fred in a bone crushing hug. Heavy chuckles croaked from Fred as she smothered him lovingly. He managed to sneak in a tiny peck to her check and she hugged him. Placing her head on his shoulder, Y/n poked the side of Fred’s cheek, commenting,

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever, Fred, I love it!”

Throwing his arm around the elated girl, Fred just smirked.

“Duh, that’s kind the whole point of you moving in with me.” He replied in a matter-of-fact tone. The night was growing darker and the steady wind was escalating. In an hour, two if they were lucky, Filch would be surveying the grounds in search of students, mainly Fred and George, out past curfew. It was a sport to him, catching students breaking rules and getting to turn them in. It was part of his job, yes, but Y/n hated that he never took it easy on anything for the Gryffindors like he did the Slytherins. Fred looked at the scenery around them and remarked,

“Y’know, angel, as much as I’d love to spend the rest of the night laying with you in my arms, we can do that in my dorm room tonight… in an actual bed instead of dirt. I mean, we didn’t set up this whole thing for nothing! If I knew laying in the dirt would win you back, you should’ve told me!” His sarcastic words were received with a light slap.

“Smart ass.” Y/n rolled her eyes teasingly and started to sit up. Before she could get to her feet, a pair of hands planted themselves at her waist and lifted her. Fred had his moments, but he was always a gentleman to her. His teasing ways were comforting to Y/n, reminding her that they were good now, in comparison to the recent downfalls.

Fred helped Y/n to her seat, then jogged over to his own. He presented the girl with a cake he made for her. Hermione brought him to the kitchens and taught him how to make one. It took about three hours, he burnt the first, put too many eggs in the second, then forgot to add eggs to the third. Finally, on the fourth attempt, Fred created a passable cake. Hermione had no desire to spend any more time in the kitchen, so she quickly frosted it for him, not wanting him to ruin it this far in, then covered it and locked it in the fridge. Much to Y/n’s surprise, it was one of the best homemade cakes she’d ever had. Her teeth were practically chattering from the intense amount of sugar, but she had to keep in mind it was Fred who baked it.

After eating, Fred and Y/n took their sweet time strolling around the castle. Fred swung his hand back and forth, causing the same effect to Y/n’s. They laughed feverishly as Fred chased Y/n up the moving stairs as they raced to the common room. When they entered the room, they sprinted straight for Fred’s, still in a chase. Hermione, Ron, Harry, George, Angelina, and Lee all watched in amusement as the couple seemed to be reunited.

“Wonder if they’re back together. You guys think the date worked?”

Everyone shared glances at the obliviousness of Ron. There were times when social cues and context clues just didn’t exist to Ron. George scoffed at his little brother and shook his head. The rest of the group roared with laughter as Ron’s face scrunched in irritation.

“Not sure, Ron. Why don’t you go out to our room and ask them?” George smirked mischievously causing Ron to turn white as a ghost in realization. A faint ‘oh’, tumbled out of his lips and his eyes went wide.

Despite their assumption, up in the top room in the Gryffindor boy’s dormitory, Fred Weasley laid snoring in his large mattress, still in his school robes. Squished against his chest by his arms, Y/n was sound asleep, similarly dressed. The two didn’t care what they looked like or who came in, as long as they were together, that’s all that mattered.

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enderwoah · 3 years ago

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ORIGINS SMP HEADCANONS (because i love them): SEASON TWO EDITION BAYBEEE

(this is really long ENJOY :gun:)

tommy

he is phil's son smile

phil's most recent son at least

he's got like one more somewhere

he picked this one up off the dangerous streets a few years ago and he's been sticking with phil ever since

his wings are small- not too small to fly, but they're untrained to the point where it would take a lot or work to get him off the ground

but at first, he didn't really seem to want to learn all that much?

(he has three scars on his face- all from trying to learn how to fly when he was younger)

(he gave up after the third one)

("if at first you don't succeed; try, try again" is his motto, and he tried all three times)

but!! phil and wilbur are very persuasive :) and now that he knows he can fly, he's not going to rest until he does

he's a little manipulative to get what he wants sometimes, but can you blame someone that lived on the street for so long?

he had to do that to survive! it's not his fault.

(it's a great excuse.)

he laughs like a kookaburra amen

he squawks when he gets scared

he chirps. he tries not to because it makes phil go absolutely bird-brained but he does sometimes and he hates it.

tubbo

NOW'S YOUR CHANCE TO BE A B[GUNSHOTS]

god he is. so fucking annoying (/rp)

he simply does not know when to stop

he ignores social cues to see when someone is annoyed

(see: he can read social cues. he does read social cues. when you get annoyed that's when he starts being more annoying, because you're more likely to give him what he wants to get him to shut the fuck up.)

he loves talking to (at) people, especially people he doesn't really know that well

so he's trying to be friends with ranboo, but the absolute prick keeps trying to avoid any actual conversations, so that's not working

he buzzes when he gets excited-happy

his fingertips are completely blackened and horrendously sharp, functioning as ten individual stingers

they don't do any actual damage but he's working on that

techno

wither hybrid (??)

how can you be a wither hybrid?? nobody got down and dirty with the wither

he's an experiment

the reason we haven't seen him yet? he's staying away from the main area of the smp

he doesn't want to ruin its natural beauty with his withering effect, so he keeps to himself on the outskirts of the smp

which sucks

withers get health from killing things

he's not fully a wither, so he gets energy from being around people and sort of draining their life force a little bit

he feels terrible when he's with just one person because they are Literally his life support and it makes the person feel like shit

when he's with a big group of people its great!! he only has to take a little bit from everyone and its barely noticable!!

but then there's the wither part. so he has to stay away.

he's always tired

always exhausted

he's a farmer, so taking it from animals works, but god does he miss people

but he can only visit a few times and for very short

(he's afraid that one of these days he'll get so bad that the next time he sees someone he'll accidentally kill them)

(it already happened once. he's blessed that he's been forgiven, even made friends with by the victims, but he doubts he'll be able to pull that off again with no consequences like last time)

wilbur

phantlings are dead elytrians, and given that wilbur was phil's son...he's a phantling

he died in the late 50s and was a librarian when he was alive, so he's very possessive (ha) over all of his things

you should never ask to "borrow" anything from him, he will hound you about it until you give it back

it's best to just say that you want something from him to keep

even if youre going to give it back

just for your own peace of mind

phantlings can feel fear and get a genuine feeling of elation from scaring people

of course, sometimes its unwelcome (feeling large amounts of fear from someone they care about in a bad way just makes them pissed)

but for the most part, wilbur loves appearing in the corner of people's visions just to jumpscare them a few minutes later

all in good fun, of course!! it's just hilarious :)

being the lighthearted, fun guy he is, he's not particularly secretive about his method of death

"how did i die? well, it all started -- ended -- on november 16th, 1958!"

"i walked out of the library late, since i took the shift for my wife since she was feeling sick and i worked there anyways,"

"the streets were dark and only lit up by gaslamps...and out of an alley...appeared..........."

techno.

he didn't mean it. wilbur isn't at all mad at him (anymore)

he was starving. he didn't know that one touch would be enough to fully revitalize him...

and murder wilbur where he stood.

sneeg

has details on everyone on the server

you Cannot Hide Shit From Sneeg

its impossible

if you find of his any shittly little mouse holes then you're doomed

you find one and there are twenty more

he's under your floorboards while you're having your important discussion about trapping the nether roof

sucks to suck ig??

he seems to be the favourite of many, which is weird since he rarely goes out of his way to actually talk to many people

he's the only person that tubbo doesn't actively try to annoy (or maybe he just doesn't find tubbo's antics all that annoying)

he's the only person that ranboo stays around (or maybe he stays around ranboo- he and Phil seem to be the only ones not off-put by his slightly sadistic and whiny demeanour (not counting tubbo, who annoys him anyways)

phil seems to be more protective of him than he thinks is normal (he lets sneeg ride on his shoulder while travelling, so he doesn't really complain)

niki is completely protective over him (again, not complaining)

contrary to popular believe, he does not get high from sugar

if anything he gets

high-per

(get it)

(high-per)

(hyper)

he's literally just a nine-year old getting a sugar rush leave him alone

phil

take the normal "bird-brain" headcanons and multiply it by like sixty-four

and you've got origins phil

he can't see glass- or, rather, he can, but it doesn't register that 'hey, this is a solid surface i am going to slam into'

its very funny for everyone else but he's pretty sure he has permanent brain damage from the blunt force trauma

if there is ANYONE on the server who dares to chirp, bird or no, they must understand that they are signing away their privacy and giving phil the right to go absolutely bonkers over them momma bird style

(shoutout to tommy, wilbur, ranboo, and fundy for having to suffer through this)

"oh??? you don't have wings?? you don't have feathers?? omg?? then what's this im preening?? what do you mean im just braiding your hair?? nono this is preening smile"

god help you if you dare to have wings

poor tommy, wilbur, sneeg, and tubbo

phil can't help himself alright

do you think he wants to be any sort of protective over sneegsnag?

no!! but he cant stop himself!! sneeg might damage his wings if he keeps flying those super long distances!!! nnnno! carry the bug man!!!

it's weird, he's always had that protective sense over ranboo, too

but ranboo very obviously doesn't have wings, so he doesn't get it...

ranboo

yes ur a peasant

yes ur poor

yes im cooler than u

what r u gonna do about it

the enderdragon's son! partially a dragon, partially enderman, partially human (don't ask, his other mom is a hybrid), all spoiled brat!

given that he has a ton of dragon genes, he's extremely possessive over his stuff and Yes He Does Do The Hoarding Thing

he has a pile of rings and gold chains and necklaces and most of his jewellery hidden underneath his bed

(if you ask him, no, he doesn't)

not to wear

just to Have

one time, fundy stole one (1) bracelet from the hoard and ranboo was sent into a panic for a good 24 hours

he wouldn't leave his cave and kept counting and recounting as if that'd make the missing piece reappear

(when fundy had to give it back because of the guilt, he expected to get his face bitten off)

(instead, he just watched as the prince was flooded with relief, telling him to get the hell out and nothing more)

it's weird, he has so much gold and even a crown, and yet here he is

living with all those people ^^^

truth be told, the enderdragon isn't a very nice dragon

nor is she a very kind queen

nor was the other queen

nor was her son

there was a mutiny in the end, leading to the dragon queen and her wife being killed brutally by the crowd of angered people

they went after their son next, who had ordered executions and worked servants to the bone just as much as they had

they cut off his wings in the middle of the square

he was sure he was going to die until a random person (a peasant) jumped up and yelled at them for publicly torturing a child

but ranboo didn't really catch all of it, given he was delirious from pain

he got to get some stuff quickly and escape with his life

this wasn't too long ago, either, so he's still trying to...adjust...to people talking rudely to him

(he's also trying to adjust to not having wings)

(hence why he hurls himself off the edges of cliffs and then has to teleport to the bottom instead of glide. he keeps forgetting.)

#this is so long #origins smp #originssmp #ranboo #tubbo #philza #philza minecrft #sneegsnag #wilbur soot #technoblade #tommyinnit #help this is so long

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ray-ray-writings · 4 years ago

Text

Ghost of You-SBI AU Imagine

To the anon that requested this, why would you rip my heart out like this?

This is a Father!Philza x Brother!Technoblade x Brother!Wilbur x Brother!Tommy in the dreamsmp. In this you’re younger than Wilbur and Techno but older than Tommy. This is pretty sad with only a slightly happy ending… Just a warning.

Masterlist here

Three cannon lives. Some argue it’s too many, some argue it’s not enough. But once Y/N loses all theirs, everyone can agree that there’s never enough

Y/N’s POV

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. I was only supposed to go out and find a new village. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I was in a desert searching for a village like I said. I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t stop myself from kicking the dead bushes and collecting the sticks they dropped. I don’t know why. But it made me so happy to do so. Made me feel like a kid. But I kicked a bush and the sand underneath me moved. I wasn’t fast enough. I fell. I fell and fell into the ravine with nothing to stop the fall damage. I didn’t have a bucket of water or a hay bale or anything. I wasn’t expecting to fall. It wasn’t supposed to happen. I could remember my scream echoing off of the stone walls and then nothing. Nothing at all.

*POV Switch*

Third Person POV

The whole server was gathered at the remains of L’Manberg. They were deciding what to do with the giant whole in the ground. There was light chatter in the air. Jokes and laughter danced through the crowd as they all got along once. But then it changed. Everything shifted as a notification dinged on everyone's arm.

By habit, all heads turned to the arm to see it. Immediately all noise stopped. Everyone froze at the message that popped up on their right arm. Surely this had to be some sort of sick joke, right? There is no possible way it was real.

Y/N fell from a high place

They all knew. They all knew that you were on your last life. You lost your first one in the original L’Manberg war and then lost another in the most recent war due to a wither, Techno still felt very guilty about that. If what the message said is true, then you just lost your last life. “No” the silence was broken by a desperate whisper escaping Philza’s lips. “No!” He cried out a little louder this time. “I can’t… I can’t lose another. No please,” He begged no one in particular. If you listened closely, you could hear everyone’s hearts break at the sound of the desperate father. Even Dream felt the heavy weight on his chest.

You were so young. Not quite a minor, but young nonetheless. How dare you be taken away from them? Philza broke out into a run to your house, blubbering, begging for you to be there. Techno and Tommy also followed their father in a sprint, silently begging that you would be alright, that this was just some sick joke. Ghostbur didn’t quite understand what was happening, but he followed at a much slower pace.

Slowly, everyone broke up from the group and went to their respective homes, the business could be conducted another day. They all attempted to go about their own business as normal as possible, but when the heart wrenching scream of Philza sounded from your house, everyone knew…. You were gone. Really actually gone.

*POV switch*

Y/N’s POV

I woke to a scream. A scream I had never heard before but I somehow knew who it was. It was my father. Why was my father screaming in my home? And why was I so cold? It only took a simple look down to understand why. Had this happened a few months prior, I wouldn’t know what was happening, but because of Ghostbur, I knew. I knew I was a ghost. That confused me too though. Why was it that I could remember everything and Ghostbur remembered nothing?

I got out of my bed. I couldn’t help but give a dark chuckle. That’s where my reset spawn was and I guess that’s where I respawned even as a… ghost. I almost couldn’t believe it. I lost all my lives. I’m dead.

I slowly left my room and walked downstairs. There I found my father, sobbing on the ground. My brother’s crowded around him, tears also streaming down their cheeks. I could feel my non beating heart break at the sight. I had never seen my father so distraught, not even when he killed Wilbur. That was something he was forced to do. It was something Wilbur wanted. Yes, Dadza was sad about it. But it was something that had to be done. Something that was for the best. But this? This was unexpected. I was only supposed to be gone for a few hours. I was supposed to come back.

“Dad” I breathed out, causing all heads to snap to me. A single sob escaped Philza’s lips as he scrambled up from the floor and ran toward me. “Dad, wait!” I tried to stop him, holding my arms out, but it did no good. Philza ran right through me. In one way and out the other. Another loud sob echoed out of his lips. “Y/N” he cried out as I turned around to face him. He held his hands out to try and hug me, but stopped. He instead wrapped his arms around himself in a tight hug, “What happened?” His voice cracked.

And so I told him. I told him the truth. Even though it was a really lame way to die, I told him the truth. Small sniffs left his lips as I told my story. When I was done, Philza spoke again, “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I sent you out to find that village. Had I not done that, you wouldn’t be dead. You wouldn’t be a ghost.” “Dadza” I breathed out, “It’s not your fault. It’s really not. You couldn’t have known, and neither could I. I should have been paying more attention, but I wasn’t and that’s the price I have to pay. At least I’m still here. I may be dead, but I’m here,” I did my best to comfort my father. He let out another sniff and nodded, “Yeah… that’s true. But I still can’t help but feel guilty…”

I turned around and faced my brothers. They were staring at me in shock. “Hey Y/N” Wilbur greeted brightly, walking over. “How are you? Why do you look different?” I couldn’t help but laugh at my brother’s ghostie innocence, “I’m okay Ghostbur… I look different now because I’m a ghost. Just like you,” I informed him. Ghostbur gasped, “No way! We’re twinsies now! Move over Techno I’ve got a new twin.” Techno took a few steps forward toward us. “Yeah Ghostbur, we’re twins now” I responded softly, watching Techno.

My pink headed brother stopped right in front of me, staring at me. In his eyes I could see the tears pooling. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. I knew that he was not only talking about this death, but my second one as well. “It’s not your fault either Tech” I told him in the most comforting voice I could.

Tommy came up behind Techno and stared at me with angst in his eyes. “Y/N… It wasn’t your time” He whispered. A sad smile appeared on my lips as I nodded, “Apparently it was Tommy. But it’s okay. I’m still here, and I’ll always be here for you,” I tried to comfort. A sad laugh escaped Tommy’s lips. “God, I’ve never wished I could give you a hug harder than I’m wishing right now.” “Me too Tommy. Me too”

The sweet moment was broken by a small gasp behind us. I turned around and found an excited look on Ghostbur’s face, “Maybe we can hug! Since I’m a ghost and you’re a ghost,” Ghostbur claimed with a huge smile. Huh… Maybe. “Worth a shot,” I claimed with a shrug before walking over to Wilbur.

Before I could prep myself, Ghostbur’s arms wrapped around me in a solid hug. Once he realized that we weren’t just going through each other, he let out another excited gasp. “It’s working! I can hug you! I can actually hug someone! This is the best day ever!” He yells. I couldn’t help but laugh at his phrasing, this is the best day ever huh? I couldn’t blame him, he was excited about getting to touch someone after weeks of zero contact.

When I pulled away from the hug, I found that my father had made his way to my alive siblings and wrapped his arms around them. A soft smile rested on his face, the tear tracks gleaming off of his cheeks. “It’s going to be okay,” I promised, giving him a small head nod. Dadza returned one with a soft sigh, “I know. I just wish we could be okay with the alive you.” “So do I, but I guess you’ll just have to deal with the ghost of me for now.” I teased gently, walking over, just to be near the three. A soft chuckle rumbled through each of them. “Yeah, I guess we’ll just have to deal with the ghost of you… For now”

There you go, I hope you enjoyed! If so, be sure to leave a like, maybe even a reblog or a reply telling me what you liked!

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zeta-in-de-walls · 4 years ago

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Tommy and the role of ‘hero’

Hey, this little essay is discussing how Tommy’s character has struggled with being called a hero and hows it’s been a significant part of his character arc for Season 2 of the SMP. It’s not a title he ever gave himself yet it’s a title he’s burdened with all the same.

Funnily enough, I don’t recall Tommy ever being called a hero before Technoblade’s damning speech on Nov 16th, where he compared Tommy to Theseus.

Tommy you just did a coup. You just did a hostile Government takeover and then immediately instilled yourself as President. And then you gave it to your friend but that’s still a tyrant Tommy.

But the thing about this world Tommy, is that good things don’t happen to heroes. Let me tell you a story Tommy, a story of a man called Theseus. His country, well his City-State technically, was in danger and he sent himself forward into enemy lines. He slayed the Minotaur and saved his city. You know what they did to him Tommy? (”What did they do?”) They exiled him. He died in disgrace, despised by his people. That’s what happens to heroes Tommy. The Greeks knew the score. But if you want to be a hero Tommy, that’s fine.

Do you want to be a hero, Tommy? Then die like one!

Technoblade’s speech is a frustrating one at first. It begins by essentially calling Tommy a power hungry tyrant despite that being far from the truth - Wilbur was the one who formed the Government and Tommy rejected power. He trusted it to Wilbur who then chose Tubbo. Schlatt wasn’t even killed by Tommy, he died of a heart attack after being abandoned by every one of his allies so it wasn’t even really much of a takeover at all and it wasn’t Tommy. Yet this speech was entirely directed at Tommy.

But the latter half is different, accusing Tommy instead of trying to be a hero who thinks he’s saving the world and that he’s doomed to have a bad end. It’s interesting as never has Tommy claimed to be much of a hero. Tommy’s always just fought for the things he cared about. Indeed his response to Techno’s speech suggests the same.

“I’m not the hero. No one’s the hero! We’ve got L’Manburg for each other.”

But of course, Techno’s words stick with him all the same. Particularly the bit about a tragic end as Tommy becomes very, very aware of his own mortality in the arcs that follow. To Techno, a hero seems to be a naive figure who tries to do good but is destined for failure and tragedy.

But there’s another path Tommy fears even more. One that he’s witnessed firsthand. Becoming the villain.

Let’s be the bad guys. Tommy, why not? Our nation’s gone. our nation’s far behind us, Tommy. Let’s blow that motherf*cker to smithereens. Tommy, I say if we can’t have Manburg, no one - no one can have Manburg! ...L’Manburg.

This is a new era! We burn the place to the f*ckin ground, I want no crops to grow there ever again. I want f*ckin mycelium and cobblestone, it all covered, Tommy. I want it all gone!

Tommy, let’s be villains.

Wilbur was Tommy’s hero. He loved Wilbur dearly and wanted nothing more than to be a good right-hand to him and make him proud. But when they lost L’Manburg and were banished, Tommy saw Wilbur changing, saw him giving up home and deciding he’d rather destroy the thing they’d worked for and blow it all up. After Wilbur made this speech, Tommy argued, making it clear he was entirely against his plans. Even saying that it wasn’t the moral thing to do. He said not to give up hope, that everyone wasn’t against them and that Wilbur’s ideas were reckless. But he stayed with Wilbur and continued to support him, hoping that he could convince him to change his mind. Tommy failed. And Wilbur died.

So, the Tommy at the start of S2 just wants to go back to his old life, a simpler time where he doesn’t have to worry about L’Manburg anymore as it’s in safe hands and he can focus on his personal concerns once more - like his music discs. He doesn’t want to be a hero or a villain, he merely wants to be happy again in a world without Wilbur.

But there’s someone else watching him. Dream.

I think it’s no coincidence that Dream wanted Tommy exiled by his own people. I think he was deliberately trying to make Techno’s speech into a reality. Dream had become rather obsessed with Tommy and treated all their interactions like a fun game where he played the villain and Tommy, the hero. It’s not a narrative Tommy himself liked but all he could do was play along.

Dream had him exiled and this seriously pushed Tommy to his limits. On the first day, Techno briefly visited and asked him why he was still trying and he answered that he always gets back up and he would keep on fighting Dream. But as his exile progressed he slowly lost his will to fight. Slowly Tommy stopped believing that his exile would ever come to an end and that people still cared.

In exile Tommy had a lot of time for reflection. Here’s something Tommy says days into his exile when he’s begun to lose all hope and is starting to accept that maybe Dream’s his only friend.

Everyone always tells me I was the- the hero of this server. The one that came and f*ckin fought Dream - the only one that ever spoke back to him. But maybe I was just... maybe this was just meant to be.

Tommy’s got complicated feelings about being a hero. To him it means standing up to Dream, never giving up - that’s what he believed people expected of him. But in his exile, he began to give in to Dream. He begins to express how no one cares and that the only reason they ever pretended to care was when he had status - when he was part of L’Manburg. There’s this implication that he felt like people only cared about him when he was being the selfless hero. When he was trying to be selfish for once, causing trouble like he used to and wanting to focus on his personal disc war rather than on L’Manburg, he got exiled. (Of course, this is Tommy’s biased perspective not how others actually viewed him.)

Tommy eventually escaped his exile, finding renewed courage to fight against Dream. Except, he’s still scared and uncertain and feels confused about Dream. He feels lost and clings onto Technoblade for support.

With Technoblade, Tommy starts to feel more like himself - but Techno also influences Tommy, turning him more against his friends. (I think Techno’s character genuinely thought they didn’t truly care about Tommy, likely not realising how much they had also been manipulated by Dream.) Technoblade gently encourages Tommy to be more violent and wants him to help blow up L’Manburg.

This is where Tommy’s fear about becoming more like Wilbur come into play. Tommy did not want to become a bad guy - he’d had nightmares about it even. But in his time with Technoblade, after how helpless he’d been during his exile, being given some power lead Tommy to start lashing out more violently, he began to get more aggressive - alarmingly so even. Technoblade’s path was one of revenge, dealing with his own pain by causing others to suffer (for noble goals, fighting corruption etc I don’t want to get sidetracked though this is about Tommy). Technoblade’s presence was helpful to Tommy, helping him to get over much of his fear but he still lacked in agency and still felt lonely knowing he hadn’t made up with his friends.

Tommy finally came to his senses at the festival, where he realised he was fighting his best friend and putting his personal attachments - his discs - over Tubbo. And that was wrong. He realised he was becoming just the sort of person he didn’t want to be - he had been on the path to becoming like Wilbur. And he rejected that path. He wasn’t going to be a bad guy. Just because he was hurt didn’t justify hurting others. So he reconciled and once more committed to protecting L’Manburg, having put his personal desires aside. It seemed like he’d put himself into the role of selfless hero yet again.

And he failed. Again.

Dream tells him how it was a fun game to him. And how their story was not over. Tommy though, had become extremely tired of it. He didn’t want to play Dream’s game.

They meet up again. And again, Dream talks to Tommy like he’s important - like he’s the key to everything. He wants Tommy to play the role of hero and has been manipulating events for a long time to keep pushing him, to keep taking things from him. Being a hero, which Dream believes Tommy wants, simply means playing along with Dream’s narrative.

Tommy, you want to be a hero, right? You want to be the hero of the server. And every hero needs an origin story, right? Batman had his parents, Spiderman had uncle Ben, you have Tubbo, right?

In the end, Tommy refuses to play Dream’s game anymore though. He called for help and got saved by everyone else. Then he killed Dream twice and had him locked away for good.

And once more, Tommy decided to do things for himself again. He decided to live peacefully, working on a project, talking to various people on the server and trying to avoid making waves and getting into any more conflict. It’s a good end.

He rejected Wilbur’s path and he defied Technoblade’s predictions and he didn’t lose his best friend to Dream. And now Tommy’s trying to avoid playing the role of hero anymore. It’s not a title he ever gave himself but one thrust upon him. Yet it’s one he’s keenly aware of. And one that, despite everything, he can fulfil.

Tommy’s arc has been in some respects about defying the expectations of others - but he also can’t help but fight for the things he loves. He realises his troubles were not that his friends didn’t care or that he had to play a role but that his life was being controlled by Dream and now he’s free of that. No longer is he so weighed down by expectations but when there is a sufficiently threatening enemy, he has not lost his determination to challenge it.

#tommyinnit #meta #analysis #uh feel like i didn't have a great conclusion #anyway i love tommy's character #and his arc has been great this season #i especially appreciated how the exile arc really showed another side to his character #and dream's a great antagonist #driving much of this conflict #dream smp #exile arc #i didn't really talk much about love and attachments which are also impornant to understanding his character this season #and also his grief and thoughts on death #anyway this is about tommy not techno or dream or wilbur so i'm not analysing their actions except in regards to how they affected tommy #but feel free to add or correct me on anything #cheers!#the disc war

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