#Rest in Peace Mr Fred | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wow635 · 9 months ago

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Ok chapter 3 guys! The story is also now on wattpad under : wow635

After many long hours of talking, Hermione, Ginny, and I are all wrapped up in blankets surrounded by pillows, laughing and talking amongst each other.

We hear a soft knock at the door, and then Mrs. Weasley’s head pops in. She opens the door fully, now in her dressing gown, holding a candle. "Okay, girls, it's time to sleep. You've got a big day tomorrow," she warns us.

Ginny, Hermione, and I groan in unison, each of us expressing our disappointment at Mrs. Weasley’s interruption. We were having so much fun catching up and sharing stories, enjoying the opportunity to reconnect after a long summer apart. However, it was clear that Mrs. Weasley had other plans.

"But we're not finished talking yet," Ginny protested, her expression laced with a hint of petulance.

Mrs. Weasley simply chuckled affectionately, shaking her head at Ginny's protest. "I know, dear, but you need your rest for tomorrow. A well-rested witch is a happy witch."

I laughed. "Alright, good night, Mrs. Weasley," I said, pulling Ginny's covers over myself.

Mrs. Weasley smiled at us, her eyes twinkling with warmth. "Good night, dears. Sweet dreams." With that, she left the room, gently closing the door behind her. Ginny, Hermione, and I settled back into the bed, still giggling and whispering as we shared more stories and secrets, until sleep slowly overtook us.

A little while later, Ginny and Hermione are fast asleep. I haven't told anyone, but I’ve been unable to sleep for quite some time now. It's rather embarrassing because it's nightmares that keep me up—about Voldemort, my parents, everything and everyone I can’t afford to lose.

I slip out of bed and walk down the creaking stairs, the old wooden floorboards of the Burrow gently groaning beneath my feet. The house is quiet and peaceful, broken only by the occasional muffled snore coming from one of the rooms.

As I entered the kitchen, it was bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window. The room felt cozy and welcoming, the warm light casting shadows on the walls. I reached for a glass and filled it with water from the tap, drinking it down.

After refilling the glass, I stand by the sink, sipping my water. My attention is drawn to the sound of footsteps approaching from the direction of the stairs. I look up, and my heart skips a beat as I see Fred making his way down the stairs, dressed in plaid pajama pants and a white t-shirt.

He looks a bit sleepy, but his eyes are still filled with a mischievous sparkle.

I raise an eyebrow, and he speaks. "Can't sleep either? Or are you just here to raid the fridge?"

"Can't sleep," I smile from behind my glass.

"What about you?"

"Just couldn't resist the allure of the kitchen in the middle of the night," he replies with a chuckle. He walks over to me, leaning against the counter across from me. The moonlight illuminated his features, casting a soft glow across his face.

"What actually brings you down here?" he asks, giving me a quizzical look.

"Nightmare," I say, taking a sip from my glass. I don't know why I just told him. Merlin, I’m stupid.

As I admitted to having a nightmare, Fred's expression softened with understanding. He nodded slightly, leaning in a bit closer.

"Nightmares can be quite unpleasant," he said softly, which surprised me because he isn't normally serious. "They have a way of messing with your mind."

He then reaches out a comforting hand, gently placing it on mine. His touch is warm.

I blush and take another sip of my water.

Fred's warm presence in front of me makes my heart flutter. I glance at him, feeling my cheeks flush. He stands there, his pajama-clad figure leaning casually against the counter, his broad shoulders and arms now folded across his chest.

The kitchen is quiet for a moment, the only sound the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall.

I take a shaky breath, trying to will the butterflies in my stomach to settle. Fred seemed to sense my nerves, and he glanced over at me, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"You know, I've got a secret weapon for dealing with those pesky nightmares," he says, his voice low and hushed. "It's a little something we Weasleys have perfected over the years. Care to know what it is?" He leans closer, his expression conspiratorial.

“What is it?” I ask curiously.

His smile widens as he prepares to reveal his nightmare-kicking secret. He leans in closer to me, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It's a special kind of hot chocolate, made with a secret Weasley recipe. It's guaranteed to chase away those nasty dreams and send you off to dreamland with the best kind of thoughts."

I chuckle at his playfulness. "Hot chocolate, huh?" I smile.

"Yes, hot chocolate. It's a family secret. We can't have you tossing and turning all night, now can we?" he teases, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "So, what do you say? Fancy a cup of dream-banishing hot chocolate?"

I nod, rolling my eyes and chuckling.

"Brilliant!" Fred says excitedly, a wide grin spreading across his face.

He bounds over to the cupboards and rummages through them, pulling out a bunch of ingredients. "I'll have you feeling better in no time." He grabs two mugs and two spoons, placing them on the counter. He then looks at me, a glint in his eyes.

I smile and hop onto the counter next to where he was working.

Fred smiles as he begins preparing the hot chocolate. He quickly boils a kettle of water, pours it into each mug, then adds generous dollops of his hot chocolate mix into both, mixing them with the spoons until the chocolate dissolves completely, filling the air with a rich, chocolatey scent.

He hands me a mug, then grabs his own and leans against the counter next to me.

I take a sip. "It's really good," I say, my eyes widening.

Fred beams with pride. "Told you so," he replies, a satisfied grin on his face. "We Weasleys take our hot cocoa very seriously, you know." He raises his mug to me, a silent gesture of triumph.

I replicate his gesture, giggling quietly.

We clink our mugs together, a soft, silvery sound that fills the quiet kitchen. The hot chocolate is delicious—velvety smooth and rich with chocolate. It warms me from the inside out, making me feel instantly comforted and calm. I take another sip, savoring the taste.

"Thank you, Fred," I say, and with great courage, I stand on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

Fred's cheeks flush slightly as I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. He cleared his throat, feeling a bit embarrassed but also secretly pleased.

"You're most welcome," he said with a small chuckle. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm glad the hot cocoa helped. And, you know, if your nightmares ever return, I've got plenty more tricks up my sleeve to help chase them away."

"I'm sure you do," I smile. "Night," I say, removing my hand from the spot on his arm where it had been when I kissed him on the cheek, then turning to walk up the stairs.

Fred watches me as I make my way back upstairs, a small smile playing on his lips.

The feeling of my lips on his cheek still lingers—a tingle he couldn't quite ignore. He stands there for a moment, replaying the moment over in his mind, his heart beating just a bit faster than usual.

I really like Fred, but I just don’t want to burden him with all the other problems that come with being a Potter. Harry and I have had run-ins with Voldemort every year since we started at Hogwarts, and I just don’t want to cause harm to Fred.

As I disappear up the staircase, he returns to the kitchen, a newfound energy in his step.

I head into Ginny’s room and slide into bed.

I slip into the room where Ginny and Hermione are still fast asleep. I slide into bed, nestling under the covers and trying to slow my racing heart. Despite my efforts, thoughts of Fred float through my mind. I could still feel the warmth of his presence and the lingering tingle on my lips where I had kissed his cheek. As I close my eyes, despite my lingering fearful thoughts about everything that could possibly go wrong, I no longer think about my nightmare. Instead, I think of Fred Weasley.

Next chapter ————->

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #harry potter #fanfic #fred wealsey fic #fred weasely x y/n #fred weasley headcanon #fred weasley smut #fred weasly x reader #harry potter hcs

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magicallittlet · 1 year ago

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Magical Diary - Fred Weasley

18+

Warnings: mention of alcohol, consuming alcohol, smut, smoking, smoking w33d, strong language, heavy kissing.

Flasbacks are written in cursive

One - The dream

I've had the same dream every night since my fourth school year at Hogwarts. It always started out as a peace full, yet odd dream. Then suddenly everything turned dark. And the last thing I remember from the dream is a green sharp light. The dream was a memory, a memory that was not easily erased. I soon discovered that the remembrance was about my mother's sudden death.

The events over the summer had been hard on me, so to tell you my story, I'm not going to start from the beginning. I'm going to remember them step by step. It's not that my memory had been Obliviated or anything. It's just easier for me to start right here. But just to get to know me a little, here is just a bit of my childhood.

I had grown up in a town outside London, with my guardian Lydia and her muggle fiancé Henry. Lydia took me in when I was almost two years old. She had been told that she could not have children of her own, so when my dad asked her to take care of me, even though she had major disagreement with my father's decision, she couldn't turn it down. We lived in Epping just outside of London. A little old town filled with charming streets. Henry came into our lives when I was around 7 years old. Lydia told him right away, when things got serious between them, that she was a witch, and that she was raising a little girl with the same condition as her. Henry fell even more in love with her and accepted the adventures and challenges that come with living among two witches. As for my dad. I never saw him again. That was until my fourth school year at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. I had always been aware that he was still alive. But with the fact that he gave me up, I had never in my life thought that he would turn up as the new defense against the dark arts teacher. It took me some time to figure it out. But it was a chair swung to my face. And it made my school year much more difficult than I had ever imagined. And as I was on my way downstairs some of the events from the recent school year flicked before my eyes.

When the period ended, I walked up to Mr. Lupin to give him the homework assignment from the last DADA class. "That was fast, '' Professor Lupin said, like he was confused. "Is that a bad thing?" I asked, a little worried. What if I had screwed up. I really wanted to impress him. He was such a good teacher. "Not necessarily," Professor Lupin said, with a big smile. "Sorry Professor '' I started, and he looked up "You are not by any chance from London sir" I asked, "No, no I'm not" he said with a comfortable voice, while he shook his head. "Oh, okay. I could just swear that I've seen you before" I said curries. "Take some chocolate... it's okay" he said while he was pointing at a pack of chocolate at his table. "Thanks Professor" I said while I took the chocolate and walked out of the classroom.

As I walked out of the classroom, I heard two voices from each side of the doorway. Fred and George were standing leaned up against the wall, just outside the classroom. "Uh she got the chocolate, '' Fred and George said, while they walked on each side of me. "Jealous," I asked confidently. "Not really," George said. "We got some fun to do, Clark," Fred said playfully, while he played with my blond curly hair. "Guys we have Quidditch soon" I said while I tried to stop Fred ruining my hair. "There is just no fun in you, Clark" George said "Coming Fred" he added. Fred smiled at me and went the other way.

I wonder if he knew back then. If I was his daughter. I don't know what's worse. Not realizing that your daughter had attempted Hogwarts, or knowing that she was sitting right there, right in front of you, not being willing to say or do anything about it.

Henry and Lydia gave me some days to rest when I came home from one om the most traumatizing years at Hogwarts I've ever had. I know it sounds selfish, because since I've started Hogwarts a lot of dangerous and traumatizing stuff had happed. Like He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named living in the back of our defense agents the dark arts teacher's head. Then the chamber of secrets opened, and a giant basilisk was trying to kill all muggles at the castle, and luckily it didn't have any lock killing any. But these times I've never been in real danger.

After all Hogwarts is a school for little witches and wizards. But also, a school there had been there for centuries and hides a lot of secrets. Something like that is maybe not expected, but everything is possible.

After some days of resting, the day finally came. Professor Dumbledor and Professor McGonagall even paid a visit. We all sat down in the living room, with tea and scones. Lydia had made her homemade clotted cream and raspberry jam– with the berries she was growing in our little green house. Lydia loved her plants. She gave me real Hufflepuff vibes. But she was sorted into Ravenclaw back then.

"Take a seat, Ill fix you some tea" Lydia said to Dumbledor and McGonagall. They each picked the armchairs we had placed on each side of the coffee table, facing the sofa. Witch put me between Lydia and Henry on the sofa. Now I felt pressure.

McGonagall looked concerned, but Dumbledore just looked hungry at the scones.

"Maybe we should just get started for Rebecca's sake" McGonagall said concerned, looking at Professor Dumbledore to get his attention. Dumbledore slowly looked away from the scones and started focusing on looking at me. It was a soft glance as Dumbledore usually gave. "Very well miss Clark, or would you now prefer Lupin" Professor Dumbledor asked kindly. I smiled back at him. Dumbledor was such an odd man. And I admired him for that. "I still prefer Clark Professor. I don't identify with Lupin. Thank you for asking" I said polite. Both professor Dumbledor and Professor McGonagall smiled at me. "Very well miss Clark. Due to the events of the end of last school year, I have been informed and willingly wants to talk to you about the happenings and help you how to get by with the things you have witnessed. Rebecca Clark has been up against the mass murderer Sirius Black" As Dumbledor finished, he smiled and winked to me. I winked back. We both knew that Sirius was incident, but Dumbledore, Harry, Hermine, Ron, Mr. Lupin and I had decided not to tell our families about Sirius just yet. "Due to that event, miss Clark is required at my office once a month to have a meeting at my office with her house Teacher Professor McGonagall" Dumbledore ended. "But can we talk about what happened. We have given Rebecca some time to heal, before, I mean. I don't want to pressure her. But we need to know what has been going on to help her. Right professor" Lydia asked while pouring McGonagall a cup of tea. "Rebecca will speak when she is ready, it is for the best" Professor McGonagall said carefully. It was for the best. She was absolutely right, but I really wanted to get it off my chest sooner than later, so I could carry on with my life. Everyone around me agreed. "Professor I am ready to tell my story" I said convincing and started to tell Lydia, Henry, Dumbledore and McGonagall what had happened.

Lydia and Henry listened closely and carefully to what I had to tell about the events of that night. "I was on my way down to Hagrid, he had some ingredients I needed for a potion I was making with Fred, Lee and George" I explained as McGonagall and Lydia gave me a strict look, but I had promised Dumbledor to tell the truth. "When I saw...". A knot suddenly tired up my stomach. I hadn't expected it to happen this soon. This was where I learned that I had never been in any danger. The only person who had put me in a dangerous situation that night, was Remus. "When I saw Harry and Hermione ran after a black dog, the grim I presumed. I had to get help. I remembered that I had just passed processor Lupin just before I went over the wooden bridge, so I ran back to find him. Luckily, he hadn't gotten that far. So, as I reached him, I let him know what I had witnessed" I paused. "And did professor Lupin tell you to follow him" McGonagall asked surely. I had hoped that she hadn't asked that question, because I didn't really want to answer it. "No, professor, he asked me to get back to my dorm immediately. But I followed Professor Lupin anyway" I answered with a heavy breath. This was not the point of it, I was there no matter what Remus had told me to do.

Dumbledor was smearing some clotted crème onto a scone, topping it with a teaspoon full of jam. "So, you followed him anyway" McGonagall asked wondering. I scratched my cheek, trying to find a good explanation. But nothing came to me. Why did I even run after him? Like I was going to safe the whole day. Maybe that was the reason I made it into Gryffindor. "I don't know Professor, I wanted to help. Ever since I Remus, sorry, Professor Lupin started teaching, I had felt some kind of urge to... I don't even know what it was. First, I thought it was a crush, like the innocent crush you have on a teacher. But it was something ells. Like a feeling that he needed me to come with him. I don't know, it's silly and I'm sorry for putting myself in danger" I ended. "So, what happed when you and Professor Lupin entered the shrinking shack" Dumbledore asked like it was the juicy part now. "I walked behind Remus the whole time. I wasn't in any danger. I had my wand, and I'm good with spells. The first person I saw was Sirius and then I saw Harry, Ron and Hermione. Then it got to me. Remus and Sirius were old friends. And I was going to die. All of us was going to die. But somehow Snape and Remus helped us out of there, and we got out safe. Then the light of the full moon hit Remus and he attacked me. After that I woke up in the hospital wing and apparently, I have Veela blood in my veins, luckily for that otherwise I would be a werewolf by now" I ended with a fake smile. "And then there was your dream" Dumbledor asked politely. "The one you came you came to my office to discuss" he added. This was the part I wasn't ready to talk about. The knot in my stomach tightened even more. I let out a small grunt to let Dumbledore know that he could continue. "It is an unlocked memory. One that I cannot tell you more about. One you must figure out yourself. I hope you can understand" Dumbledore ended.

The the room was left heavy and quiet.

"Rebecca Just a simple question. Would you like to remain living with your guardians or would you like to contact Lupin to find a way and live with him" Dumbledor asked and then reached for a scone. "I would like to continue living here Professor, if that's ok. This is my home" I said with confidence, even though I really wanted to get to know Remus. "Good, just as we expected. Now I just need to inform the tree of you about something really serious and you cannot speak of this afterwards. This is going to be between the five of us, and when the time comes, we do as we discussed today" Dumbledor started. The atmospheria in the living room chanced immediately to something dark and could. Even though I thought that my story was dark, this was something ells. "We have a hint that Him-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is planning his return" Professor McGonagall said rather serious. I looked at Lydia and her face turned bright white. She looked like she was about to cry, scream and through up at the same time. Lydia then ran her fingers through her hair. Henry was looking at her, but suddenly he jumped up. "Wait, he is supposed to be dead. How can he plan his return, if he is dead" Henry yelled. McGonagall got up of her chair too and placed a calming hand on Henrys shoulder. Henry always seemed so stupid when it came to the magic world, but now it just seemed like he knew everything about it. He was even more upset than I have thought he would be. "There is no easy way to inform you this, so it's best if you just listen to what we have to offer" McGonagall said calmly. "Lydia and Rebecca would be in grave danger; I cannot protect them here alone" Henry said shockingly. Lydia said nothing, she just took Henrys hand to calm him down. He then sat back down on the sofa again. "If this is going to happen, I want Rebecca to move in with Remus, for her own protection. And for the two of you, we have a hide out for you in Scotland. But Rebecca can't come. She will attract danger. Understood" Dumbledor said firmly and all of us knotted. "And you are not to speak of this again, before the time comes. Agree" Dumbledor continued. Lydia got up and cleared the table. "Thank you for the lovely scones, Lydia, it was a pleasure to see you again Henry, and I'll see you soon miss Clark".

As I walked back upstairs to my room, started to remember the good things about my fourth school year. It was also awesome to be a witch, after all. But what now, what was I supposed to do now? All the fun always came with Fred, Geroge and Lee. The gossiping with Katie. The sneaking to the kitchen for a late-night snack with Comac. And the butterflies whenever Cedric Diggory brushed his hand threw his hair and smiled at me.

I smiled with the thought of that. I sat down on my bed to daydream even more. But that was soon interrupted by some noise coming from the street, so I went by the window to see what was going on. Some family was moving in on the other side of the street. But I couldn't care less. I was impatient to get back to Hogwarts and the first week of summer wasn't even over. But then someone caught my eye. It was the soon to be 6th year student, a Slytherin stud. Adrian Pucey. He was one of the chasers on the Slytherins quidditch team. He knocked me off my broom last year at my first match. Asshole. He reminded me of someone. Not really but there was something about his dimwitted smirk and somehow misunderstood person.

The first person I saw in the room at the Shrieking Shack, was... Sirius Black. I wanted to cry. He was a wanted murderer, and we were just four kids trying to survive. In a heroic but stupid decision, I pointed my wand at him, while I slowly and carefully followed Professor Lupin into the room. "Leave Harry alone" I said with a shaky voice. I really wanted not to sound scared, but I couldn't help it. He just laughed. Something was wrong with Rons leg. I hurried over to him, to take a look, maybe it was something I could heal. "If you are going to kill Harry, you have to kill us too" Hermione said. Her voice broke. We all thought that we were going to die. "No. only one will die tonight," Sirius Black said with a sore throat. I looked back over my shoulder, to see that Sirius was pointing a wand towards Ron and me. I was too scared to scream.

Read the next parts on my Wattpad

https://www.wattpad.com/1389489880-magical-diary-please-read

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sunnydaleherald · 2 months ago

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The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Thursday, April 24

Cordelia: Well, all I know is, my cheerleading squad wasted a lot of pep on losers. It's about time our school excelled at something. Willow: You're forgetting our high mortality rate. Xander: We're number one!

~~Go Fish~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Stumbling Towards Redemption (Angel, PG) by badly_knitted

Sugar Baby (Angel/Connor, M) by Greensword101

Paranormal Introspection (Spike, T) by xaeyrnofnbe

[Chaptered Fiction]

Ready for it...?, Chapter 6 (Wesley/Fred, T) by Philp_and_Tablet

Twelfth Labour, Chapter 8 (Angel/Spike, T) by xaeyrnofnbe

No Rest for the Wicked, Chapter 3 (Buffy/Faith, NR) by TargaryenPug

Once More Without Failing, Chapter 1 (Willow/Tara, M) by storiwr

Shadow Over Hellmouth, Chapter 130 (Ensemble, E) by Tuxedo_Mark

Something Borrowed, Chapter 10 (Buffy/Spike, M) by Geliot99

Better Things to Do, Chapter 9 (Buffy/Spike, T) by BeneficialAddiction

Corrigendo Tabulam, Chapter 46 (Willow/Tara, NR) by lyrical_echoes

mr. domestic, Chapter 3 (Spike/Reader, E) by EmWritesStuff_Sometimes

spike and the stakes, Chapter 30 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by jewelram

The Pryce of Tyme, Chapter 6 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Joan963z and Ragini

Mile Markers and Blood Moons, Chapter 3 (Buffy/Spike, R) by JamesMFan

What It Means to Be a REAL Savior, Chapter 6 (Crossover with The Walking Dead, FR15) by Buffyworldbuilder

Heart's a Mess, Chapter 2 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by splendidchapette

[Images, Audio & Video]

Artwork:glowy Dawn by flootzavut

Gifset:Buffy the Vampire Slayer | 2x06 "Halloween" by mycatismyfriend

Gifset:(2x19) ɪ ᴏɴʟʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ by likeafantasy

Video: Buffy the Vampire Slayer actress shares what sport Drusilla would play by CBC Sports

Video: Rest in Peace — Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Clara Huckeby

Video: Drawing Buffy Summers! | DRINK & DRAW (& karaoke) by ArtLife with Leanore

[Reviews & Recaps]

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Bots, bots, bots! by TTH Archive

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if i had a nickel for every time Buffy wasn’t herself... by summershq

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[Pangs cameo criticism] by femmedefandom

more evidence of anya being a "self-less" character by koriand3r

Has anyone else noticed this shot of Angel cheesing during opening credits? by multiple authors

I've just watched Buffy S1E1. Spoil the rest of the show for me - wrong answers only! by multiple authors

Poor Graham by multiple authors

Vampire Personality Theory. by multiple authors

Carpe noctem by multiple authors

What would Angel have done instead of Spike? by multiple authors

Super-speed: a healthy Drusilla in BtVS S5 could have probably beaten the entire Scooby Gang sans Spike. by multiple authors

I miss her... by multiple authors

Buffy S2 by multiple authors

"Buffy vs Dracula" is the only season premiere where Buffy wasn't dealing with trauma from an event before by multiple authors

The Body by multiple authors

Was it reasonable of the gang to assume Willow started skinning random people in Same Time Same Place? by multiple authors

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Buffy Sequel Series Rumors (Back to Sunnydale) by multiple authors

Can vampires be warlocks? by multiple authors

Vampire Nature: Reconciling the Showing and Telling by multiple authors

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caramelteaa · 1 year ago

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First meeting

A short one shot frubbo fic set in the owl house/the crow house au

Word count: 721

The usage of portal is highly restricted. Witches and demons don't tend to care about the human realm. And that's okay!

WA02 don't mind studying alone.

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WA02 has never seen the human realm before.

Well, none of his colleagues either.

Considering the portal usage is prohibited, and no one but Mr. [Redacted] has the right to use a portal (maybe his boss has accompanied him before?).

But that's okay. They have access to the Federation's library for study purposes, with their rank and all. In the back rows where the shelves are gathering dust, there's a couple of books and documents either written by past researchers, or materials from the actual human realm, they call it Earth.

So what if he has read all of them dozens of times? It's fascinating how different the human realm seems to be from Quesadilla Island and the entirety of Boiling Isles! Even if the soil seems to be roughly the same, apparently the sky is an array of blue hues, the foliage are green like emeralds instead of red like blood, and the rain isn't boiling nor does the sea cook you alive!

If there ever comes a chance, They would love to see it with their own eyes. A realm that seems more peaceful, painted in cooler tones and flora they can only dream of. But until then, his break is over, duty awaits. WA02 checks out his books at the front desk and puts on their mask, and starts their daily patrol.

--------------------------------------------------

Now, running into someone you know might not always be pleasant, but being run INTO by someone you don't know is PAINFUL. WA02 sits up trying their hardest to remain their composure, would be easier said than done with them covered in dirt and surrounded with scrolls that's not his. They soon find the culprit, currently face deep in......THEIR BOOKS! They snatched back his (borrowed, mind you) belongings, and are face to face with the most brilliant mix of blue, green, and brown.

"WHERE DID YOU GET THESE?!"

"Pardon???"

"NONE OF THE LIBRARIES I'VE EVER BEEN TO HAS THIS MUCH INFO ON THE HUMAN REALM!!!"

"Uhh......"

They start to walk away with their books now safe and sound in his bag. Too bad this stanger seems to not catch on the fact they are working because the boy with a mop of brown hair who almost ran over them is now bombarding them with questions like "How much do you know about the human realm?" and " Why do you have books that's not listed anywhere?" and "Why are you wearing a creepy mask with no face?"

The sudden stop caused the brunette to bump into them(again) and shut him up for a brief moment. WA02 turns around, looking at the boy with pretty eyes expectantly.

"...What? Oh." The brunette said, seems to finally catch on to their outfit.

"You're a guard from the Federation's Coven."

"Yes."

"Is that why you have those books and scrolls?"

"......Classified"

"That's not a no, bossman."

"......" WA02 turns back around.

"WAIT WAIT WAIT! Do you like the human realm? Not that you have ever been here since no one can, but do you though? I love it since they seems to have amazing technology and and the-"

They sighed, rather loudly for them.

"What can I do to make you leave me to my work?"

"Can I borrow your books?" He wastes no time, huh.

"No."

"Can I steal your books?"

"No."

"Can I read them under your supervision?"

"......Fine." WA02 really doesn't want to wrangle some guy who just announced wanting to steal his borrowed books.

"REALLY?" The brunette said, with sparks in his eyes.

"I'm busy for the rest of the weekdays so it has to be Sunday night, past 6 pm."

"IT'S A DEAL! We'll meet back here, and if you don't show up I'll track you down."

The brunette yelled as he ran back to the papers that he never picked up ever since he ran into him and brought both of them to the ground, waving goodbye.

"BETTER BE READY, FREDDY!"

Their name is NOT Freddy. Fred might be an okay name, not that they need a one.

--------------------------------------------------

That night, WA02 returns to their room, exhausted as usual, planting their face into his crisp bed sheets. They think back on the encounter they had with the boy who asks too many questions, with curious glints in his pretty eyes.

WA02 falls asleep dreaming of earthly delights.

#frubbo #qsmpblr #qsmp #qsmp frubbo #the crow house au #qsmp tubbo #qsmp fred #qsmp fic #calla writes?#i don't normally considering I'm not good at it #English being my second language and all #this is an au I made in my mind for fun #there's not much stuff except for thoughts atm #I'll post my doodles of some in au stuff later

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yourstrulylightstar283 · 1 year ago

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My Voice Fancast for Donkey Kong characters and some Mario characters

For disclaimer, I don't own Donkey Kong franchise, Mario franchise and their characters.

The people I cast for this voice fancast (c) Themselves

John DiMaggio or Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson as Donkey Kong

Joy Tanner(Joy Tanner voiced baby Donkey Kong in Donkey Kong animated series.) as Young Donkey Kong

Eric Bauza(Eric Bauza voiced Diddy Kong in The Super Mario Bros. Movie.) as Diddy Kong

Grey DeLisle as Dixie Kong, Kiddy Kong(Dinky Kong) and Tiny Kong

Mark Hamill or Bill Farmer as Cranky Kong

Tress MacNeille or Kath Soucie as Wrinkly Kong

Ben Schwartz or Phill LaMarr as Funky Kong

Susan Egan as Candy Kong

Bill Fagerbakke as Chunky Kong

Tom Kenny as Lanky Kong

Sam Marin as Swanky Kong

Dee Bradley Baker as Squawks, Rambi, Expresso, Enguarde, Winky, Rattly, Squitter, Glimmer, Clapper, Quawks, Ellie, Parry, Lightfish, Hoofer, Flurl, Orco and Helibird - All of Animal Friends

Benedict Campbell(Benedict Campbell voiced King K. Rool in Donkey Kong Country animated series and DKC: Return to Krocodile Isle. Plus, personally, Benedict Campbell is the best voice talent for King K. Rool to me. 🐊😀🙂) or Dee Bradley Baker(Reminds me of Dee Bradley Baker's vocal performance as Actor Ozai in Avatar: The Last Airbender's "Ember Island Players" episode.) as King K. Rool

Adrian Truss(Adrian Truss voiced General Klump in Donkey Kong Country animated series and DKC: Return to Krocodile Isle.) as General Klump

Fred Tatasciore(Len Carlson(The voice talent of Krusha in Donkey Kong Country animated series) passed on in 2006. Rest in peace, Mr. Len Carlson. 😢) as Krusha

Tara Platt as Kalypso

Kari Wahlgren as Kass

"Weird Al" Yankovic as Mario and Luigi Mario

Jennifer Hale as Princess Toadstool(Princess Peach)

Kate Higgins(Kate Davis) as Princess Daisy and Pauline - Kate Higgins(Kate Davis) voiced Pauline in Mario series.

Keith Ferguson as Toad

Jessica DiCicco as Toadette and Mario & Luigi's mother(Mama Mario) - Jessica DiCicco voiced Mama Mario(Mario and Luigi's mother) in The Super Mario Bros. Movie.

Totaka Kazumi(Kazumi Totaka) as Yoshi - Totaka Kazumi(Kazumi Totaka) is the voice talent of Yoshi.)

Rob Paulsen as Wario, Waluigi and Mario & Luigi's father(Papa Mario)

Scott Burns or Jack Black as Bowser Koopa

Kevin Michael Richardson as Kamek

#my voice fancast #voice fancast #my fancast #fancast #donkey kong #donkey kong country #dk #dkc #super mario brothers #mario brothers #super mario bros #mario bros #super mario #mario #yourstrulylightstar283

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nebulablakemurphy · 2 years ago

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Through Love And By Love (Pt. 6)

Summary: Twenty-Two years ago, Draco Malfoy used the imperius curse to slow Voldemort’s rise to power. No good deed goes unpunished. Warning: this series contains mature subject matter surrounding use of the imperius curse, reader discretion advised.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Rosanna and Draco hadn't give much thought to co sleeping, before Leo was born. They thought, Draco in particular, that babies sleep in a crib; and nowhere else. But somehow, night after night, the baby finds her way into their bed. They use the proper spells, to make sure the little girl is safe while they sleep. She likes to be held and rocked against his chest. More over, she likes to use Rosanna as a human pacifier.

Draco wakes with a grin, rubbing sleep from his eyes. The morning sun peeks in, casting rays across the sheets and the infant beside him.

Draco stretches the arm that was under his pillow, over to card Ro's strawberry blonde locks. She looks peaceful, rested; still glowing in her own right.

She cracks open one eye to peek at him. "Creep."

"Can't a man admire his wife?" Draco scoffs.

"I’m not your wife." Rosanna says, smartly.

"Yet," He raises his brows, "you're not my wife, yet."

"We need to start planning, if you want to be married anytime soon." Ro nuzzles against her pillow.

"We could do a small ceremony," Draco traces the slope of her nose with his finger, "just us and a few witnesses."

"Draco Malfoy wants a small wedding?" She shakes her head, in disbelief.

"I want you," his eyes flicker to her plush lips, "the rest is unimportant to me."

"If we wait a year or two she can be our flower girl." Rosanna moves her gaze to Leo, stroking her white blonde hair.

"That's a thought." He chuckles, "although, I'm not sure I can wait."

"Impatient as ever, Mr. Malfoy." She feels Leo stir between them.

"Did Mummy wake you?" Draco asks, softly rolling the babe onto her back.

Leo grasps onto his nose as he leans closer. Her brown eyes barely open as she yawns.

"Don't let Daddy fool you,” Rosanna whispers to her daughter, “it's his fault."

————————————————————————

The little family is sitting in the living room, as rain pours over the windows. Curled up together watching television. A strange muggle contraption, gifted to them by Rosanna's grandmother.

Narcissa and Lucius are off on holiday, giving the young couple space, after their granddaughter's first weeks of life. Archer and Dixie stayed the first fourteen days as well. Everyone got along, both sets of grandparents rallying around their children to make sure they're settled, before finally stepping back.

Draco jumps at the sound of the doorbell, jostling Rosanna.

She giggles, "you're cute."

"I'll give you cute, you cheeky little-"

Ding Dong, the bell sounds again.

"Who the devil is carrying on like that?" He untangled himself from their shared blanket, making for the door on the first floor.

Rosanna stands, waiting for an update on the identity of their visitor.

"It's for you." Draco calls up to the sitting room.

"For me?" Rosanna moves toward the stairs. Leo now awake in the cradle of her arms.

Arthur, Molly, Fred, George, Ron and Ginny, along with Harry and Hermione, stand at the opposite end of the staircase.

"My savior," Fred trots up first, patting her head.

"Mum made tacos," George adds, following his brother.

"Yes, and gifts for baby." Molly smiles, drawing Rosanna in for a hug.

"You didn't have to-"

"Oh pish posh." Molly pulls away.

One by one the Weasleys fill the room.

"How are you, dear?" Arthur asks, clapping Rosanna on the back.

"Good, thanks." Ro is still surprised to see them, and here no less. "What are you all doing here?"

"Your mum sent an owl." Harry explains, they hold each other for a long moment, mindful of the baby in her arms.

"It's so good to see you." Rosanna kisses his cheek as they break apart.

"Not every day one of your best mates has a baby, you should have figured we'd turn up." Ron shrugs, moving to take Harry's place.

Hermione is last, both of them in tears when they finally meet in the middle.

"I know it's hard for you to be here, after the last time..." After Bellatrix.

"Don't worry," Hermione rubs circles against Rosanna's back, "I'm ok. We all are, somehow."

"Where can we set up? We've brought the works." Ginny asks, both hands full.

"Let me show you the dining room." Rosanna dries her eyes, waving them to follow.

"Massive house, not very homey." Ron says, no filter, ever.

"Don't be rude, Ronald." Hermione jerks the hand she's holding.

"Are they-" Rosanna turns to Harry with an arched brow.

"Brilliant, isn't it?" He confirms, following her down the hallway. "Where'd Malfoy run off to?"

"Don't tell me the bloke's too posh for tacos." Ron scoffs.

"You really think I'd procreate with someone who doesn't like tacos?" Rosanna shifts Leo in her arms. "I'll go grab him."

"Oi, the little darling can stay with us." Arthur suggests.

"Yeah don't hog her, no one's had a proper go yet." Ginny agrees, helping set up the massive table. The places are always done to perfection, although Rosanna has never eaten a meal there, until now.

"Who wants to-"

"Right here," Molly smiles, reaching for Leo gently, holding the babe close to her chest. "Look at those cheeks, my goodness."

"And all that hair," Hermione leans over, for a better look.

"Malfoy must be pleased." Harry remarks, with a slight smile.

Ginny elbows him, "she's lovely."

"I'll be right back," Rosanna hesitates near the doorway.

"Go on," Fred whispers, the only one to notice her nervousness, "she's with family."

————————————————————————

Rosanna eventually finds Draco in the library, sat in the high back leather chair, near the window.

"Hey, what happened?" She asks, leaning heavily against the door frame.

Draco doesn't look up from his book. "You wouldn't understand. You’d find common interest with any creature that crosses your path. Me? I'm Draco Malfoy, death eater."

"We all have things we're not proud of." The blonde sighs, pushing wayward hair behind her ears.

"I'm used to having things, objects, possessions, that are mine. You don't belong to me, I don't own you. It's very difficult for me, infuriating even." He turns a page, although he's not paying attention in the least.

"Will you stop pretending to read and talk to me?" Rosanna takes a step forward.

"I'm not pretending." He scoffs, indignantly.

"Ok," she rolls her eyes, crouching down and setting the book aside. "Wanna tell me what's really bothering you?" Rosanna squeezes his knees.

Draco’s icy gaze flickers up to the hair tie, holding the top portion her locks up. He scowls, adjusting the band. "I’d forgotten how unnerving it is to share you."

Rosanna chuckles, "I know that back at school, every time they’d walk into a room you'd walk out. But now, you can set the tone for how things are gonna be moving forward." She leans her elbows against his thighs. "So you can stay up here, if you want; or you can come back down stairs with me and have dinner, talk, maybe you'll even have a good time. Either way, I still love you. Either way when they leave, I'm still here with you.”

Where you go, I go. “Can’t very well say no to tacos."

————————————————————————

When they return downstairs, there are new faces around the table. Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy and Blaise, all sit looking mildly uncomfortable amongst Rosanna's friends.

"I hope you don't mind," Ginny says, "we heard them at the bell."

Rosanna forces a grin. "The more the merrier."

"What are you doing here?" Draco narrows his eyes at the four.

"Your parents sent an owl." Blaise shrugs.

"My parents?" Draco's brows furrow, why invite them all at the same time, knowing full well they don't get on?

"Yeah." Crabbe nods, eyeing the food that has yet to be served.

"Alright then." Draco takes his seat at the table.

"It'll be fine." Rosanna leans over to whisper, running a hand over his tense back as she sits aside him.

Draco is dressed down, sporting a black v-neck tee, and dark wash jeans. However his hair is still set to perfection, force of habit really.

Rosanna is a bit more comfortable, in an oversized quidditch jersey and leggings.

"She's got your hair." Pansy tells Draco. A tone of annoyance about her, as they are not the first, or only, guests.

"Never fancied babies, myself," Goyle notes, "they cry too much."

"Yeah, why's it being so quiet?" Crabbe tentatively looks toward the infant.

"She doesn’t cry much." Draco sniffs, missing the tiny baby in his arms.

"Is this right?" Harry asks Ginny, cradling Leo in his arms, nervously.

"I don't think you can do it wrong, mate." George chuckles.

"Unless you drop her." Fred chimes in.

"Hurt my daughter, and you're done for, Potter." Draco grimaces.

Rosanna swats the back of his head, some things never change.

"Shut it, Malfoy." Ron barks, "he's doing fine."

"Pansy and I brought this," Blaise extends the parcel to Draco.

"Thanks." Draco turns his nose up at the pair.

Blaise nods. "Now Potter, let's see the little bird." He rises to his feet.

"Have you ever held a baby?" Pansy puts a hand on his arm.

"If Potter can do it, so can I." Blaise reasons, making his way around the table.

They each have their fill of holding Leo, before the infant begins to fuss. Rosanna nursing her, beneath the knitted pink blanket, the Weasleys gifted.

"These tacos-" Crabbe breaks off, mouth stuffed, pointing both hands at his plate, "are fantastic."

"My Molly makes them from scratch." Arthur replies, fondly.

Crabbe gives a thumbs up, "well done."

"You sure it can breathe under there?" Goyle flicks his fork to indicate the blanket.

"She, not it, you imbecile." Draco replies, sneaking a quick glance beneath the fabric. Leo has never been fed beneath a cover, so he has to be sure. "She's breathing just fine."

"So tell me Draco, how's fatherhood treating you?" Arthur asks, taking a swig of his drink.

"I'd like to think I'm doing a decent job. But generally speaking, I'm useless; because I haven't got any-" Draco let's his hands drop to his lap, realizing he's been making the crudest gesture to represent breasts.

"Bazingas." The twins offer in unison.

"Exactly." Draco huffs a laugh.

"No matter, surely you've been changing your fair share of nappies." Mrs. Weasley says. "It's all about team work."

"And what about you sweetheart?" Mr. Weasley inquires. "Good labor?"

"Once I got the potion, it was pretty easy." Ro nods, stealing a second dollop of sour cream.

"Terrifying, really." Ron swallows.

"Hopefully everything rights itself," Harry scratches the back of his neck.

"Shall we have dessert then?" Molly asks, trying to save Ro anymore embarrassment.

"Yes please," Pansy nearly shoots out of her chair at the opportunity to switch gears.

"Cherry pie should do the trick." Mrs. Weasley moves quickly to her feet.

"On second thought-" Pansy averts her eyes.

"Oh bloody hell." Ron looks like he might be sick.

"Literally." The twins again in unison.

————————————————————————

A month later, things have begun to settle. Just in time for Draco to be served with papers to stand trial. He's not alone, Lucius and Narcissa are facing their own legal troubles.

"You'll likely be summoned by the ministry, to testify against me-"

"Against you?" Surely Rosanna's heard him wrong. Attempting to read the parchment over his shoulder.

He can't look at her as he hands the document over.

She skims it, 'use of memory altering charms, providing unauthorized access to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, attempted murder of Albus Dumbledore, abduction by means of the imperius curse and false imprisonment by means of the imperius curse.’

Rosanna clears her throat, taking a seat aside of him on the loveseat. "We have a month before the court proceedings. If we start building your case now-"

"I've done all the things I'm accused of." Draco cuts her off.

"Yes, but I think the reason why is equally important. We were trying to stop Voldemort." She reminds him.

"There's no we Rosanna, I did this!" Draco roars, in frustration. "I took your memories, I made you leave Hogwarts. I held you here. You conceived, and carried our daughter for five months, without choice. I deserve to rot in Azkaban for what I did to you alone.”

"It was my idea.” Her heart shatters. “Everything you did, was for me."

The corner of his mouth twitches, "does it then follow, that my actions are any less deplorable? What I've done to you is unforgivable."

"No, it's not." She takes his hands with conviction. "We were trying to do the right thing. I never meant for you get hurt."

————————————————————————

For simple trials, the officers of the court vote on scene, by a show of hands. This particular case requires more deliberation. Rosanna is asked to leave the room, Draco joins her in the waiting area just outside. He's hunched forward slightly, staring down at his shoes in his perfectly tailored suit.

Rosanna in a similarly colored knee length dress. Without a word she takes a seat on the bench, pulling Draco into her arms. Stroking his hair until she feels him relax into her.

"No matter what happens, I'm with you." She assures him. "I love you, we'll make this right. I'll never stop fighting for you."

"No," he pulls back, holding her face in his hands. "If I get sentenced to Azkaban, you have to let me go. Swear to me." Draco insists, his blue eyes shining with tears.

"I can't."

"You deserve a life. You deserve happiness and someone who can be there for you. You saw what the dementors did to my father, he was never himself, even after he left that place. I don't want you to see me like that. I don't want Leo to see me." He breaks off to collect himself. "You tell her that I love her, everyday. Tell her that I wanted to be there. Tell her that I'm sorry."

"You can tell her yourself." Rosanna replies, fiercely. Before kissing him, attempting, for the first time to push her stream of consciousness into his mind.

It must work, when they break apart, he looks astonished at her feelings for him. He is at peace, in this moment with her.

"If you ever start to lose yourself, remember this, remember me. Remember that I love you, and that I'll never stop." Ro wishes she could offer him more than that.

In the end, the case is dismissed. For reasons of: Draco Malfoy's age at the time of his actions, extenuating circumstance, and the unwillingness of the only surviving victim to press charges.

Draco is still in shock, frozen in the center of the courtroom. He can hear Rosanna's voice at his ear, as she wraps her arms around his neck, with such force he stumbles backwards. His shaky hands find their way to her, fisting in the material at the back of her black dress. Pressing her closer to him, knowing he'll never let go.

Part 7

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lunalovegood2 · 4 years ago

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The world has lost one of its favorite neighbors.

[ID: a tweet thread from Fred Rogers productions reading "(1/2) Fred Rogers Productions is deeply saddened by the passing of Joanne Rogers. The loving partner of Fred Rogers for more than 50 years, she continued their shared commitment to supporting children and families after his death as chair of the board of Fred Rogers Productions. (2/2) Joanne was a brilliant and accomplished musician, a wonderful advocate for the arts, and a dear friend to everyone in our organization. We extend our heartfelt condolences to Joanne’s family and the thousands of people who had the privilege of knowing and loving her."]

#joanne rogers #rest in peace #it's a beautiful day in heaven's neighborhood #fred rogers #mr. roger's neighborhood #mr. rogers #mrs. rogers #tweet #twitter #musician #pianist

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littletroubledgrrrl · 7 years ago

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Stephen Hillenburg can now join Bob Ross, Mr. Rogers, Jim Henson, Stan Lee and Steve Irwin in famous dead people who taught us wholesomeness.

#stephen hillenburg #bob ross #fred rogers #mr. rogers #jim henson #steve irwin #rip #rest in peace

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burgundybmw · 3 years ago

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Munson's Mixtape

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Cunningham!Reader

Word Count: 3,470

Warnings: Mrs. Cunningham being a bitch, Mention of the Devil, Death (Chrissy, Fred, Patrick), References to Jason being an asshole.

Summary: Chrissy has been acting weird, and like a good big sister Y/N drives to Hawkins from Notre Dame to check in on her. Only to find out she has plans to meet up with Eddie Munson. Things take a turn for the worse and now Y/N gets wrapped in to the horrors of Hawkins. Hey, at least she has the company of the guitarist she was sweet on back in high school for comfort.

Author’s Note: Hope you guys liked this chapter! The next one will have Eddie reuniting with his lady in the trailer... but be warned. Next chapter won't be all sunshine and rainbows.

Track Fifteen

Y/N has never been in the back of a police car. Not once in her 20 years of life. She was always careful, anything to avoid her mother's wrath if she dared to do something untoward. However, her two decade long streak has come to a screeching halt. She was currently sitting in the back of Chief Powell's SUV, with Max Mayfield sitting beside her. Dustin and Lucas were in another car, and they were all heading to the Wheeler household. Y/N had asked the chief of police to stop at Rick's car to grab the duffle bag she had taken from her house. He agreed, and now she was peeling through Chrissy's diary trying to find something to back her story up. If she was going to successfully pin this thing on Jason, she needed more solid proof than her word.

Max was looking at her like she was insane, but kept her mouth shut. She was a smart girl, and knew better than to ask her what she was going in front of the cops. Y/N was reading her sisters most private thoughts as quickly as she could. She knew that if she found something useful, the police would confiscate it as evidence. They too would know every detail of Chrissy's life, the good, the bad, and the embarrassing. Y/N just hoped Chrissy would forgive her, wherever she was. She was framing her sister's boyfriend for murder, but Y/N held on hope that it wouldn't get that far.

The Carver's had influence, and once the panic eventually died down they would probably find the best lawyer they could to free Jason. She didn't think claims of a satanic serial murder would hold up in court, at least not for him. Hawkins was crazy enough to believe Eddie would do such a thing, but not All Star American Good Ol' Boy Jason Carver. By then Y/N would have enough evidence to prove Eddie's innocence, and then the cases would go cold. It made her sad to think Vecna couldn't be punished in a court of law, that he would never serve jail time for his crimes. But hopefully he will be dead by the end of this, and Y/N will have comfort in the thought that Chrissy could finally rest in peace knowing her real killer is gone forever.

Throughout Y/N's search she found a few entries in the diary that could be helpful, with a good enough spin. There was one from September that mentioned Patrick.

September 8th, 1985

Dear Diary, School starts tomorrow, and normally I would be excited for the new year, but this time I'm not. Last night Annie threw a last weekend of summer party at her house. Jason picked me up as usual, and everything was going great until Andy suggested everyone play spin the bottle. I didn't want to do it, but Jason said it was just a silly game and that it didn't mean anything. During the first half of the game I had to watch Stephanie, Michelle, and Crystal all kiss my boyfriend on the mouth. I tried not to feel jealous, they all said it was just fun. It didn't feel like fun to me. None of the boys landed on me at first, and I didn't know if I should've felt relieved or upset about it. I don't want to kiss any boy other than Jason, but it hurt seeing it happen to him over and over again. I wanted to get even, and I had my chance when Patrick spun on me. Jason gave him such a dirty look, and Patrick told me I didn't have to if I didn't want to. That was nice of him, and even though I was jealous of other girls kissing Jason, I didn't want to upset my boyfriend. So I just kissed him on the cheek, it was a bit closer to his mouth than I would normally do, but I never made contact with his lips. After I sat back down, Jason pulled me up by the arm and dragged me into the kitchen. He threw an absolute fit! As if he wasn't doing worse! He said it was different for girls, that I was his and his alone. I told him it was just a kiss on the cheek, but Jason wouldn't listen. He never listens when he's angry. After that he left me at the party and drove home. Patrick gave me a ride himself, and said he would talk to him today. I just hope I don't have to start senior year without a boyfriend, I already know what prom dress I want to buy.

After Y/N read the entry she thought of different ways she could make it seem like Jason had it out for Patrick. It would be difficult, considering the fact that they were friends, but not impossible. A second entry from the beginning of March mentioned Fred.

March 4th, 1986

Dear Diary, I got interviewed by the school paper today! Fred wanted to do a piece on the cheerleading squad and I was picked! My picture is going to be in it and everything! I'm so excited to tell Y/N about it. Even Jason's sour mood can't bring me down. He was sooooo convinced Fred was going to say something bad about me, because according to him Fred only writes bad things about Jason, and because I'm his girlfriend that means he's gonna write bad things about me too. I just think he's paranoid. Jason can be a little narcissistic sometimes, thinks the world revolves around him. He said the world revolves around us, which is sweet I guess. I don't know, he's been stressed out about his last basketball season of High School and getting into Yale. So I won't hold it against him.

Those two entries were all Y/N had to defend her case. There were others that talked about fights her sister and Jason had, but the rest of the diary sang his praises. She was sad reading how Jason had treated her sister, and that she didn't realize how cruel he could be. Chrissy didn't deserve Jason's bullshit, but it was too late for her to say anything about it now.

Before she realized it Chief Powell was pulling into the driveway of the Wheeler house. She could see a half dozen cars parked there, her mother's car included. Y/N's heart started pounding, she didn't think her mother would bother to show up, but she was here, waiting for her. The thought gave her little comfort.

Chief Powell opened the back door of the car and let the two girls out. There was another police vehicle in the driveway, so Dustin and Lucas must already be inside. As they walked through the door, all Y/N could hear was yelling.

Max went to sit down next to the boys on the love seat, and Y/N slowly walked to stand beside them. She purposefully ignored her mother's frigid stare. When the Chief walked in everyone stopped speaking for a moment, waiting for him to speak first.

"Okay. The story I've heard tonight is something I, quite frankly, find hard to believe. If you would have asked me a month ago if I thought the Devil was in Hawkins, I'd tell you to check yourself into the loony bin. But now, I don't know what to believe. So right now we are going to get to the bottom of this. Starting with you three." Chief Powell said sternly. Before any of the kids could speak the parents in the room started shouting again.

"The Devil? What's this about the Devil?" Mrs. Sinclair yelled. Lucas sank deeper into his seat. That was her I-mean-business-voice, and he knew he was about to be in deep shit.

"Oh God, Dusty what is he talking about?" Mrs. Henderson asked her son, wiping stray tears off her face with a hanky.

"What on Earth?" Mrs. Wheeler gasped in shock.

"I knew it! I knew Satan himself was involved with this!" Mrs. Cunningham shouted, and Y/N held her head down. She tried to stop herself from shaking. She looked up for just a moment only to find her mother staring daggers at her.

"That's enough!" Chief Powell shouted, but Y/N ignored him. The officers started asking the kids questions, about what they were doing at Lovers Lake. She couldn't focus on them, she was frozen by her mother's icy eyes. They were locked on to her, like a missile about ready to strike. The rest of the parents were shouting again, but Mrs. Cunningham never said a word.

"Shut up!" Chief Powell shouted. Y/N looked over to him, the spell her mother had on her finally broken.

"We're gonna try a more civilized approach. One at a time. You first." Chief Powell said as he pointed at Max.

"Wait, what? Why me? I'm not even in Hellfire." Max protested.

"Follow me." Said Officer Callahan as he lead her upstairs.

"And you, stay right here." Chief Powell said pointing to Y/N. "You two go in the other room, I'll deal with you later."

Dustin and Lucas gave Y/N a pitied look, before they nodded and walked into the kitchen, Lucas' little sister trailing behind them. That left Y/N alone with Chief Powell and the rest of the parents. She moved to sit down on the love seat, when she barely made contact with the cushion her mother went in on her.

"You have a lot of explaining to do missy. First, you selfishly ruin your sister's funeral, embarrassed me and your father in front of everyone, and now this? What is wrong with you! I knew your father was wrong, he should have never bothered calling Notre Dame. You should have stayed away before you ruined absolutely everything!" Mrs. Cunningham shouted. They stopped and stared at her mother's harsh voice, the other mothers in the group turned back to look at Y/N with a sympathetic look on their faces.

"That's enough Mrs. Cunningham, it's my turn to ask the questions." Chief Powell said sternly. Her mother looked like she wanted to continue, but she knew not to embarrass herself in front of the police.

"Okay Miss. Cunningham, can you continue what you were saying earlier? About Jason Carver?" Chief Powell asked. Mrs. Cunningham whipped her head around to face the Chief, protest ready on her lips before he raised a hand at her to keep quiet.

"I believe it was Jason who made a deal with the Devil... I think he wanted revenge against Chrissy, Fred, and Patrick. Jason... he's not who you think he is. It sounds crazy, but I know he somehow made contact with Satan himself, and through whatever means he was able to use black magic to kill all three of them. My sister often singed his praises, but she always saw the good in people... She didn't see how wicked he was." Y/N replied. She tried to make her voice sound haunted, scared out of her wits. Chief Powell was about to ask her to elaborate before her mother cut him off.

"How dare you. How dare you point the finger at Jason. You have no idea what you're talking about." The words were laced with venom as Mrs. Cunningham said them.

“Mom, it was Jason. I know it was him.” Y/N pleaded, but her mother ignored her.

“Shut your mouth young lady. Jason is a good, sweet, God fearing young man. He loved your sister! He wouldn’t make a pact with the Devil, stop spreading these lies.” Mrs. Cunningham replied, sick of her daughter's antics.

“I’m not lying! She told me they fought a lot, and Jason was paranoid she was going to leave him! See here, I have Chrissy’s diary." Y/N grabbed the book she hid behind her and opened it up to show the pages she marked.

"They went to a party and played spin the bottle, she kissed Patrick on the cheek and Jason flipped out." Y/N flipped the book over to show her mother and Chief Powell. She turned the pages frantically to find the next entry she dog eared.

"And here, Chrissy wrote that she did an interview with Fred about the cheer squad, and she said Jason didn't like him because Fred always wrote about his failures in basketball. Jason is the only one who's connected to all of the victims! That’s the only explanation! Jason signed his name in the Devil’s black book!" Y/N shouted. All of the parents in the room looked at her in shock and horror, all except her mother, who looked at her as if she belonged on a stake ready to be set aflame.

“Are you sure about this young lady?” Chief Powell asked.

“Yes. Something is wrong with Hawkins, so horribly wrong. We all know it, but are too afraid to admit it. I don’t know how Jason made his evil pact, but it’s the only thing that makes sense." Y/N felt the tears fill her eyes, this time she didn't have to fake them.

"I saw how Chrissy died, she levitated from the ground. Her bones shattered in place, her eyes... oh God her eyes were ripped out from the inside. No man could do that. Jason is trying to pin this on Eddie, he knows what people in town think of him. It would be so easy… but he didn’t fool me. He won’t get away with this.” She held firm throughout her tale. Y/N prayed that it was enough to convince Chief Powell. His face was still a bit unreadable, but he looked less skeptical than he did at Lover's Lake.

“Alright then. If you wouldn’t mind going into the kitchen with the others Miss. Cunningham, I’d like a word with your mother.” Y/N nodded and slowly walked away, leaving her mother and Chief Powell to speak privately. When she walked into the kitchen Dustin, Lucas, and his sister were all standing in the hallway next to the stairs.

"So, what if, with each kill, he's not simply killing them, he's making a powerful psychic connection with his victims? A connection powerful enough to rip a hole in the fabric of time and space." Dustin whispered loudly. Y/N stopped right in her tracks, the group didn't notice her presence yet. A feeling of dread so intense it gripped her from the inside out. Vecna was far more powerful than she had feared.

"He's opening more gates." Lucas replied.

"Bingo." Dustin replied. They heard another officer walk by the hallway and slowly headed back to the kitchen, Y/N quietly trailed behind.

"Why would he be opening more gates?" Dustin asked.

"To take over the world." Lucas replied, and that idea made the dread inside of Y/N grow thicker with every passing moment.

"And who do we know who wants to take over the world?" Dustin asked.

"The Mind Flayer." Lucas whispered. It was like the two of them were having their own private conversation, oblivious to Y/N and Lucas' sister's presence.

"So if the Demogorgon was just his foot solider, Vecna is his five-star general. A five-star general with the power to open gates." Dustin whispered frantically.

"Holy shit." Lucas said has he put his hands behind his said.

"Holy shit." Dustin replied in turn.

"Holy shit. That was incomprehensible. You lost me at Mothergate. Please be kind. Rewind." Lucas' sister said with distain.

"I agree, I have no idea what any of that meant." Y/N said finally making her presence known.

Dustin groaned and went back to the beginning of his theory. He explained what he knew about the massive gate that was in Hawkins Lab, the first one they found when Will went missing. He further explained how that gate remained open for a year before their friend Eleven, the girl with superpowers Dustin had told her about days prior, had closed it. They thought the gate was closed forever, until the Russians tried to open a new one under Starcourt Mall. A part of The Mind Flayer had possessed Will, and from there possessed dozens of other people in Hawkins. After they defeated the corporeal Mind Flayer in the mall, Eleven lost her powers, and they thought everything was finally over. That was until Vecna appeared, with his ability to open gates wherever he killed his victims.

Y/N's mind was racing. She hated every word that came out of Dustin's mouth, each statement more horrifying than the next. How was she oblivious to everything? Living her happy-go-lucky life as if there wasn't a living hell that casted it's dark shadow over Hawkins. Dustin had only given the cliff notes version of the story before, this, this was way worse. Lucas' sister, Erica she now knew, had led them to the dining room of the Wheeler house, convinced someone could hear their conversation. They all sat down at the table as Dustin paced back and forth in front of it, rambling on about his theories on Vecna.

"So our working theory is that Vecna makes remote contact from his attic. We don't know why. We assume he can do it from anywhere." Dustin sat back down when he noticed Erica staring into space. Y/N followed her line of sight and noticed the light from the chandelier was flickering in a pattern.

"Are you even listening to me?" Dustin asked.

"Yea, I'm listening. It's just..." Erica said as she walked towards the light fixture in the ceiling. "You said you followed Vecna through lights, right?"

"Yeah, why?" Dustin replied.

"Because I think he's here." They all stood up from the table to see what Erica was talking about. Y/N didn't look away once as the light maintained its steady pattern. A bad feeling settled in Y/N's stomach, she feared that whatever it was that was causing the lights to flicker was up to no good.

"S... O... S..." Dustin whispered. "Hey, uh, remember when I said they wouldn’t be stupid enough to go through Watergate?”

“Yeah?” Lucas replied.

“I overestimated them.” Dustin said in a disappointed tone. Y/N walked over and stood in front of the kids, her arms crossed against her chest.

“How do you know it’s them? What if it’s Vecna or something else? What if they’re trying to trick us?” Y/N asked, she was skeptical that it was truly Eddie, Nancy, Robin, and Steve on the other side of that light.

“It’s Eddie. I know Steve, Robin, and Nancy don’t know Morse Code, but he knows S.O.S. Nancy knows about Will communicating through the lights when he went to the Upside Down, it has to be them.” Dustin replied.

“Eddie? Eddie if that’s you can you show me a sign? If it’s Vecna you can kindly go fuck yourself, I’m not in the mood for this.” Y/N turned to face the lights, her arms moving from her chest to her hips with a serious look on her face. If Vecna wanted her he could just stop wasting her time and do it already, she didn't want to play any silly game.

The pattern of the lights stopped for a moment, the light maintaining a consistent glow, before it started up again. This wasn't the same S.O.S Dustin pointed out earlier, it was something else. The light flickered once and held the glow before dimming, then it did it a second time, and a third in the same way. Then it started flickering again, a steady 1, 2, 3, 4 beat. Other lights on the chandelier started to flicker as well, all following a consistent beat. Y/N began tapping the rhythm on the chair in front of her, and just like that, muscle memory kicked it. It was the same motion she made when she tapped the steering wheel of her Buick, every time she listened to Eddie's mixtape. It was the beat to For Whom The Bell Tolls. She started to softly sing the lyrics of her favorite song, the one she told Eddie and only Eddie.

"Make his fight on the hill in the early day… constant chill deep inside… Shouting gun, on they run through the endless grey. On they fight, for they’re right, yes, but who’s to say… Oh God Eddie baby you’re a genius!” Y/N cheered. She turned around to face the rest of the group, a massive smile on her face. Eddie was here, in a way, and he was alive.

“Hey! Meet us in Nancy’s room, I’ve got an idea!” Dustin yelled. Y/N followed the kids as they stole the Lite-Brite from Mike and Nancy's little sister and headed upstairs. She hoped that whatever Dustin was planning would work. Y/N hated the idea of Eddie staying in the Upside Down for a single minute longer.

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thislovintime · 3 years ago

Photo

(Some) photos by Bob Campbell, Henry Diltz, Michael Putland.

Q: “What got you interested in playing the banjo?” Peter Tork: “My folks had Weavers records in the house. Weavers was the group that Pete Seeger belonged to. They were the nation’s top vocal group in, I think, 19- oh God, I don’t know what, ‘49 or something like that. They had a record out [...] which was essentially an anglicized version of the song they later did in Hebrew, a Hebrew dance tune, it was a lot of fire and fun, they did it with an orchestra then, it was very commercial. Pete Seeger, Ronnie Gilbert, Lee Hayes, Fred Hellerman were The Weavers and they were basically a commercial pop group based on kind of a folk music kind of an operation. And they went along pretty strongly until the McCarthy hearings and then they were pretty much shoved underground for a long time until their reunion in, what, about, oh, I don’t know, ‘57 or ‘-8 or ‘59 or something like that, and from then on it was about I guess it would be ‘56, because I’d be 14 and they... and, yeah, I got my banjo about then. And I asked for a banjo, and they went out, my folks went out and bought me a little tiny, dinky five-string banjo. And Pete Seeger’s book, How To Play the Five-String Banjo, I think I bought that myself, and learned how to play from that. Nobody said, ‘Here, take a banjo,’ or, ‘Gee, you’d be good at it,’ or anything like that. I just wanted to play it.” - Headquarters radio, 1989

Dear Mr. Tork, I am so glad you are willing to talk to your fans like this, what a great idea! You've always seemed to be a beautiful person in so many ways. I wish you had put out an album of your banjo songs. Having said that, I am 31 years old, and I listen to your music in all its incarnations a lot, so much so that I fell in love with the banjo because of it. My best friend of over 20 years bought me a banjo for my birthday. So, I would like to know if a banjo is difficult to learn for someone with no musical ability or experience (the 4th grade clarinet lessons don't count). Or is there another instrument I should try to learn first like piano or guitar? Do you have any tips for someone starting out on an instrument or the banjo in particular? Thank you, Peace and love to you and yours, Eve P.S. I love your middle name.

Dear Eve, As far as I’m concerned, no instrument is harder than any other, overall. If you want to play the banjo, play the banjo. I recommend most particularly Pete Seeger’s book, How to Play the 5-String Banjo. It was hugely valuable to my learning. The thing about the banjo, at least the way I play it, is that there is a kind of hump that’s a bit high getting over right at the start. Once that’s behind you (and it’ll take a month or six weeks depending on how hard you work at it), the rest of it’s a piece of cake. Incidentally, I reject the notion that anyone doesn’t have musical ability. It’s true that some learn faster than others, but that’s true of everything, and why people should discourage themselves in the musical realm is pretty much beyond me. True musical inability is about as common as congenital blindness. Everyone else can improve with effort. Remember, the surest predictor of success in any endeavor is not talent but work. Thanks for asking. Peter Halsten [2008]

“[M]y goal was always to wend my way merrily through life, playing my little banjo and my little guitar and singing my songs.” - Peter Tork, When The Music Mattered (1984)

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handful0fteeth · 3 years ago

Text

friends don’t lie

words: 4.5k

summary: dustin has been hiding a big secret after the battle with vecna

warnings: angst, hurt + comfort, description of injuries, mild descriptions of gore, vomiting, mention of abusive parent, fix-it fic, non-canon compliant, major stranger things 4 vol. 2 spoilers

rating: pg-14 Dustin sits on the steps of the high school, backpack leaned against his shins while he rests his face in his hands and cries. He’d been sitting with Wayne Munson for the last hour, alternating between resting a hand on his upper back while they both sobbed in silence, and trying to assure the bereaved man that if nothing else, he knew Eddie was innocent. He had always known, and nothing would ever change that. That he knew Eddie’s true heart, he knew he wasn’t capable of hurting anyone the way Chrissy, Fred, and Patrick were hurt. Wayne didn’t say anything; he just clutched Eddie’s pick necklace in his hand and cried. Dustin hopes that at least knowing one person would always be on Eddie’s side gives Wayne a modicum of comfort.

“Hey, kid.”

Dustin sniffles and sits up, wiping his puffy eyes even though he knows it’ll be evident to Steve, Robin, and Nancy that he’s been crying. Steve’s face is sympathetic as he sits next to Dustin on the stoop. Robin squats just behind them, and Nancy leans on the concrete banister. “How you holdin’ up?” Steve asks.

Dustin shrugs and shakes his head. “I told Mr. Munson.”

“I saw,” Steve says.

“It’s good that you told him,” Nancy chimes in, her voice gentle. “He deserves to hear it from you, not some shitty newspaper article or a TV reporter.”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not like anyone else in this town is gonna be as nice about it as you were,” Robin says, resting a hand on Dustin’s shoulder. “God knows if he stays here he’s gonna get bombarded with, like, people throwing rotten tomatoes at him or yelling about his nephew being some crazy Satanic murderer guy and -”

“Robin,” Nancy says sharply. Robin laughs nervously and squeezes Dustin’s shoulder.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. Maybe that won’t happen at all, maybe they’ll just…yanno, leave him be.”

“I think people have bigger problems than Wayne Munson right now,” Steve says, eyes scanning the blackening skyline. Smoke billows from the pulsating cracks in the ground just beyond the school, filling the air with God knows what. The strange, swirling particles that have always denoted ending up in the Upside Down are floating down into the parking lot, collecting like fat motes of dust on the asphalt.

“You think we’re gonna get sick from breathing that stuff in?” Robin asks.

“Maybe. Maybe it’s better we get sick,” Nancy mumbles. “The alternative is dealing with Vecna and whatever he has planned.”

“What, more bats?” Steve scoffs. “I can take those shits in my - ow.”

Nancy kicks Steve sharply in the side, luckily not in the spot where his bat bites are still healing, and pointedly flickers her gaze at Dustin. His eyes are filled with tears again and locked on the ground in front of him. Steve rubs his tender skin and sighs, realizing his mistake.

“Sorry.”

Dustin had to tell them what had happened once he limped out of the gate inside Eddie’s trailer, alone. He told them about the horde of Demobats, about Eddie’s last words, and how he had to leave him there because he wasn’t strong enough to carry his body back. Steve had offered to go back and retrieve him, or to maybe see if they could take him to a hospital, anything that would give Dustin some semblance of peace, but by that point, the ground had already begun to melt apart, and they all needed to run to higher ground.

“We’re gonna head over to Hopper’s old cabin to help clean it out if you wanna come,” Nancy says, bobbing her head in the direction of the woods. Dustin shakes his head and stands abruptly, grabbing his bag and swinging it over one shoulder.

“I gotta go help my mom out,” he says, taking the steps very slowly so as to not agitate his leg injury. “She can’t find Tews and she’s been freaking out for the last couple of days. Maybe I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

“Dustin, are you…I mean, do you wanna talk about it?” Robin asks, standing up and following behind him.

“We’re here for you, bud,” Steve affirms, but Dustin doesn’t even turn around to look at him. He starts hobbling off across the parking lot, wincing every time he accidentally puts too much weight onto his bad leg. Nancy jogs after him, fingers already curled around her car keys.

“Dustin, hold on, I can drive you to your house -”

“I got it, Nance.”

“Dustin, c’mon, you live a few miles away from here and you’re still hurt, just let me -”

“Nancy, my leg’s not goddamned broken, I can walk home by myself,” Dustin snaps. He stops, pivoting on the spot to look at Nancy. Despite his annoyed tone, his blue eyes are full of sadness and pain, not anger. Nancy blinks, taken off-guard, and stops with her hand still in her pocket. There’s a moment where they all just stare at him, and eventually, Dustin uncomfortably readjusts his bag on his shoulder and sighs.

“Look, I’ll…I’ll call once I’m home, okay? I’ll leave a message on all of your machines so you know I’m back safe,” he says, voice decidedly softer. “I just…I wanna be alone for a little bit. Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” Nancy nods, forcing a half-smile onto her lips. It doesn’t escape Dustin’s notice that it doesn’t meet her eyes, but he just presses his mouth into a thin line and turns around again, shuffling away from the school while his friends watch.

~~~

“Friends don’t lie,” Dustin mutters to himself, waddling through the wet carpet of dead leaves and rotten vines that is the forest floor. Most of the trees in this area have been either completely uprooted and toppled onto their sides, or their roots have formed strange, almost claw-like formations above the damp soil. It’s as if they’re trying to rip themselves from the ground and go somewhere, anywhere but Hawkins. Dustin can’t say he blames them.

“Friends don’t lie. Friends don’t lie.”

It’s eerily quiet in the woods. Usually, there are at least faint, distant sounds to keep him company, but today the air is thick and heavy with an unnatural silence. There are no birds chirping above him, no critters crawling amongst his feet. He surmises every living thing that wasn’t melted and torn apart by the Mega Gate opening has fled to find a different, far more hospitable environment, just like so many human residents of Hawkins. Dustin sighs and hangs a left off the path he’s walking, venturing onto unmarked ground and struggling uphill.

Friends don’t lie, or at least they’re not supposed to. But what about when friends feel like they need to lie? What about when friends lie to protect their other friends? Is that any better? Dustin honestly doesn’t know, he just knows he feels like shit for lying to his friends in the first place.

After toiling upwards through the woods for another half hour, limping through dense patches of dead trees, over gnarled roots, and getting closer and closer to the meadows on the outskirts of Hawkins where the Mega Gate is belching out smoke, Dustin finally happens upon a small cave. It’s narrow, yet deep enough that sunlight doesn’t touch the back of it. The rounded top is covered in a substantial layer of moss and dead foliage, and a yellowy curtain of Spanish moss obstructs about half of the entrance. A tree that’s grown in bent at almost a ninety-degree angle looms to the left of the cave, its spindly branches reaching toward the rock. Dustin huffs and wipes the sweat from his brow, swinging his backpack off his shoulder and letting it thud against the cave wall.

“Hey,” he calls, “it’s just me.” Silence.

Oh, right. Dustin walks to the crooked tree and knocks his fist against the trunk in purposeful bursts.

S-A-F-E.

Dustin waits for a moment after he spells out the message in Morse code, listening intently. To his great relief, the same message echoes back to him, and the leaves inside the cave start to crunch.

“How’s the end of the world treating you, Henderson?” Eddie Munson asks, staggering slowly out of the mouth of the cave and pushing the Spanish moss aside with one hand. His hair is knotted and filthy, sticking to his forehead and cheeks in clumps, the skull bandana they’d acquired from the War Zone tied around his neck like a scarf. His Hellfire Club shirt hangs off his body in bloody tatters; the stomach is mostly gone, exposing the dingy fabric that’s keeping the chewed-up flesh of his torso pieced together. Despite his grungy appearance and the way that his smile is clearly hued by the amount of pain he’s still in, Dustin relaxes at the sight of his friend.

“Shitty. How’s it treating you?” he asks, sliding down the tree trunk so he can sit amongst its roots. Eddie rocks his head from side to side, shrugging one shoulder before sinking to the ground and grabbing Dustin’s bag. He unzips it, pulling out a hunk of tinfoil and greedily ripping it open to reveal a plain peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He takes a massive bite, and jelly smears across his cheeks.

“Never better,” he says, mouth full and smiling.

Dustin was certain Eddie had died in his arms in the Upside Down. The way his eyes glazed over, the way he fell limp against him - Dustin could’ve sworn he stopped breathing. He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, amongst hundreds of Demobat corpses, the stench of blood and death all around him, sobbing freely into where he’d buried his face into Eddie’s hair. He couldn’t imagine moving from that spot and just leaving Eddie there. What would happen to him? Would he decompose like a normal dead body? Would he be assimilated into the hive mind, used like a horrifying puppet for Vecna’s grand plans? Would he end up just being bat food for a new horde? It was all too much, it was so much pain and grief all at once that he couldn’t do anything other than cradle Eddie and wish more than anything he could turn back the clock for him.

And then, Eddie coughed.

He coughed again. And again. And again. His eyes snapped back into focus, staring up at Dustin’s face in confusion and fear and clear agony as he coughed and choked, blood and saliva flecking onto Dustin’s cheeks.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, Eddie, it’s okay, I’m here, I’m right here, just breathe!” Dustin cried, but Eddie just kept spluttering. His body was so tense, it was like every muscle had flexed all at once, and the way his eyes kept moving back and forth in a panic quickly clued Dustin into the fact that he couldn’t move. He set Eddie down on the ground as gently as he could and rolled him onto his side, which allowed him to finally vomit up what had been choking him.

Blackish, viscous fluid poured from his mouth in seemingly unending bursts, and with every heave of his body he puked up more and more of the strange liquid. Dustin leaned over him and thumped on his back, hoping he was doing enough, hoping he didn’t get Eddie back just for him to aspirate on his foul vomit. Eventually, he spat out a final greyish glob and took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Eddie?”

“That…tasted like shit,” Eddie croaked. His head flopped back on his shoulder so he could look up at Dustin, and though his dark eyes were shining with tears, he grinned up at his friend, teeth slick with blood and black bile.

“Looks like I didn’t get my hero’s ending after all, huh?”

Dustin just sobbed and wrapped his arms around Eddie’s shoulders, relieved and confused and elated all at once, squeezing him so hard Eddie hissed in pain through his wheezy laughter.

Though he could talk, and he could move his head around a little, the rest of his body was immobile. He could still feel everything, including the massive, oozing pile of shredded flesh that was once his torso, but his limbs were frozen in place. Dustin hypothesized that maybe the Demobats carried a sort of paralytic venom that was meant to temporarily disable their prey, and Steve was only able to avoid the debilitating effects because Robin, Nancy, and Eddie swooped in to save him before they could really dig in.

“Oh, so like Shelob?” Eddie laughed, very amused with his comparison of the murderous bats to the demonic spider in Lord of the Rings. “I did say I would follow you into Mordor, Henderson, but I didn’t think we’d get all the fixins’ to go along with it.”

Dustin was unsure of how long it was before Eddie could even twitch his fingers or roll his shoulders back, but at one point he was able to hoist himself out of Dustin’s lap and support himself on his arms. By then, Dustin had taken the fabric he’d draped over his head and used it as a tourniquet/bandage for Eddie’s stomach. When Eddie had enough strength to push himself up onto his knees, and hobble forward a little, Dustin handed him one of their makeshift spears, blade pointed at the ground, to use as a walking stick.

Together, they limped back to the gate in Eddie’s trailer, but before they flipped back into their Hawkins, they came up with their plan.

Eddie looks out at the towers of smog leaking from the angry red gashes in the earth just beyond where they’re sitting, chewing thoughtfully. “You think that’s gonna give a lot of people cancer?”

“Huh?”

“Well, that doesn’t look healthy, now does it?” Eddie asks, flapping his half-eaten sandwich in the direction of the meadow. “You think it’s gonna give people, like…demon-cancer? Vecna-sickness?”

“Maybe? I dunno, Ed, I’m a little more concerned with giant, nasty monsters coming up through the cracks to slurp our brains out through our noses, to be honest with you,” Dustin says. He doesn’t know if anything in the Upside Down is particularly interested in human brain matter, but it’s worth considering. He points at his backpack.

“Those supplies should last you a couple of days. I was only able to snag one bottle of water so make sure you don’t chug it all today.”

“There’s a creek not too far from here, I could just drink from there,” Eddie says, licking jelly off his dirty fingers, the metal on his cracked rings glinting in the sunlight.

“The last thing you need is dysentery because you drank shit-water, Eddie,” Dustin reminds him. Eddie shrugs and rummages in Dustin’s bag, pulling out a clean roll of gauze, bandages, and a bottle of Bactine spray and lining them up next to him. He slowly, carefully rolls himself forward onto his knees and lifts the frayed ends of his shirt up to his chest, pinning it in place with his chin. He takes a quick breath, holds it, and starts lifting the crusted, grisly fabric from his skin. Dustin can hear the makeshift bandaging coming off inch by painful inch, undoubtedly yanking loose hunks of flesh with it, and Eddie’s face twists and contorts the closer he gets to the deepest injuries on his stomach. His hands start to tremble, and he screws his eyes shut tight.

“Do you want help?” Dustin asks, already leaning forward. Eddie shakes his head, eyes still closed.

“Nope,” he says through gritted teeth. “I got it, I’m good…I got it…”

He huffs shakily and curls his fingers tighter around the loose end of the fabric. Suddenly, he tugs it hard and fast, trying to rip it away from his body like a Band-Aid but it gets stuck halfway. Eddie lets out a cry, one hand flying up to cover his mouth and stifle himself, and collapses backward onto his ass. Dustin is at his side before the dirt has even settled back onto the ground.

In the Upside Down, Dustin was tying the sheets he pulled off of Eddie’s alternate bed into another makeshift rope while Eddie leaned against the wall, one hand white-knuckling his spear-walking stick, the other clamped against his stomach. Dustin had just knotted the second sheet onto the expanding length when Eddie spoke up.

“What’s the plan for when we get back?” he asked. Dustin glanced up briefly before resuming his task.

“Well, assuming everything’s worked out in regards to Vecna, Max, and the gates, we figure out a way to clear your name and then you execute your “flipping off Principal Higgins and running like hell outta here” plan.”

“That easy, huh?”

“Eddie, you didn’t kill anyone. You don’t seriously think the police are believing Jason’s “satanic worship” bullshit, do you?” Eddie didn’t respond. Just stared ahead at the slick vines tangled along the trailer’s walls.

“Eddie?”

“Yanno, when my uncle took me in, he got so much shit from our neighbors,” Eddie said softly, the ghost of a smile flickering across his lips. “They knew all about my dad, the kind of stuff he was into, how he was always strung out or bouncing in and out of jail. Wayne talked about it all the time, it bugged the hell out of him - I guess he couldn’t ever have his own little crotchgoblins, but he sure wanted some, and it made him nuts that my old man had exactly what he wanted and just…ruined it. ‘Course, my dad could write the book on ruining shit, so, that didn’t come as much of a surprise…

“Anyway, he got busted again, and when they couldn’t find my mom anywhere, it was either foster care or Uncle Wayne’s. And Uncle Wayne’s didn’t include six shitbird kids all crammed into one room and fighting over who got the bed with the least amount of bugs in it, so…pretty easy choice. Our neighbors couldn’t believe it when Wayne brought me home, they stared me down like I was tracking shit in the house the whole time. And I heard ‘em talking about me, tellin’ him, “Oh, that kid, he’s gonna grow up to be just like his scumbag dad and you know it, Wayne. He’s gonna get you into real trouble someday, Wayne.” But he didn’t listen. He didn’t care.”

Eddie’s bottom lip quivered, and he wiped the sleeve of his leather jacket across his nose, clearing his throat. “That was just when people thought I was a juvenile delinquent, Henderson. What kind of shit do you think he’s gonna get if people think I’m the next Bundy?”

“Eddie, we’re gonna figure it out, I promise you,” Dustin said, and Eddie scoffed.

“No…no, I can’t do that to him,” he said lowly. “I won’t. After everything he’s done for me, the least I could do is make sure a bunch of angry hicks don’t bang down his door for harboring a murderer.”

Dustin pulls the last of the fabric off Eddie’s stomach, balls it up, and sets it next to his bag. Eddie’s on his back now, sweat beading above his brow, panting from the pain. One hand is curled up into a fist and pressed into his forehead, the other is crushing Dustin’s hand in its grip. Dustin examines Eddie’s injuries - too many bites to ever hope to count, with such a thick layer of dark red blood crusted over everything it’s hard to tell where the skin is still intact on his body.

“Do you still have any of the water we brought from a couple of days ago?” Dustin asks. Eddie nods.

“Yeah…back there, somewhere.”

Dustin walks further into the cave, past a disheveled sleeping bag, a few empty water bottles, crumpled-up chip bags, and paper plates with the remnants of a lasagna Dustin had stolen out of the fridge at home. Eddie’s jacket is the only thing in here that displays even a shred of care, as it’s folded into a crisp square and resting on top of a large rock. Dustin snags a mostly empty water bottle off the ground and heads back to his friend, unfurling the fabric he’d cast aside and picking a relatively unstained spot to work with. He wets the edge and slips his other hand back into Eddie’s.

“This might hurt,” he says, and Eddie laughs bitterly.

He pulls the skull bandana from around his neck and bunches the end of it up, sticking it between his teeth as a bite guard. “Do your worst,” he says, voice muffled.

Luckily, it doesn’t seem to be unbearable - Dustin wipes the crusted blood off of Eddie’s body as tenderly as he can, rinsing the rag of blood every so often and wringing the soiled water out. Eddie breathes through it, his eyes shut and his hand flexing around Dustin’s. The cleaner his skin becomes, the more Dustin can see that any flesh not marred by Demobat bites is bruised almost black.

Setting the rag back down in the dirt, Dustin picks up the Bactine bottle and shakes it. The sound makes Eddie crack open his eyes a sliver, and he makes a strained noise in the back of his throat.

“Now that, that is gonna hurt,” he says around the bandana, trying to remain humorous but his voice is tinged with fear. Dustin squeezes his hand reassuringly.

“Just try not to scream too loud, okay?”

Eddie gives a thumbs up. “Roger that.”

The moment the spray hits his skin, Eddie arches off the ground and slaps his hand over his mouth, stuffing the bandana even further into it, agonized wails muffled by his fingers. He writhes in absolute misery, feet carving trenches in the loose dirt beneath him as he kicks and flails wildly. Dustin apologizes over and over again, and when he’s finally finished cleansing the wounds, tears are slipping down the sides of Eddie’s temples and dripping into his hair.

“There, all done, we’re all done,” Dustin soothes, setting the bottle down by Eddie’s head as he reaches for the gauze. As he’s lifting the corner with his teeth, he hears Eddie heave a humorless laugh. He looks down, and Eddie’s head is turned so he can look at the Bactine bottle, bandana wet with saliva and spat onto the ground.

“No sting my ass,” he pants, reading the label. Dustin chuckles.

“On the bright side, nothing is pus-y or infected looking,” he says, pulling Eddie up into a sitting position. “So as long as we stay on top of cleaning it out, it should stay that way.”

“Maybe I’ll get some vampire powers out of this,” Eddie says. He’s gone white as a sheet, and Dustin can feel his body tremoring as he wraps the gauze tightly around his body, but he’s still cracking jokes. He doesn’t know if it’s to make him feel better, or Eddie.

“What’re you thinking? Super speed?”

“With my luck, it’ll be an aversion to holy water and crucifixes,” Eddie says snidely. He groans as Dustin knots the end of the gauze and applies extra pressure to his wounds. The bandage is secured next, and Eddie gives Dustin a spare safety pin from the pocket of his jeans so he can fasten it.

“There! Good as new,” Dustin announces, patting Eddie on the shoulder.

Eddie flattens his shirt back down over his stomach and crosses his legs underneath him, letting his head fall into his hands and rubbing his eyes. They sit in silence for a bit, the only sound in the entire forest being the wind rustling through the leaves. Dustin reclines against the cold inner wall of the cave, staring up at the damp, smooth ceiling, the stale stench of the Upside Down wafting toward him on the breeze.

Eddie made Dustin promise he’d keep up the act that Eddie was dead. He couldn’t fathom waltzing back into Hawkins and graduating after everything, even if somehow he was found innocent, because the stigma would still follow him no matter what. And if it followed him, it would follow Wayne too. He would be a permanent dark cloud above his uncle’s head, as far as he saw it.

Eddie remembered a cave he’d found as a kid, one he used to run to whenever he got in trouble with his dad and wanted to avoid a beatdown for as long as possible, and since it was so deep into the forest he presumed no one would find him out there even if they didn’t believe he was dead.

“I don’t care what story you make up,” he said, “you can tell everyone I went out with my head spinning and puking up pea soup like Regan MacNeil, whatever, just…just as long as they think I’m gone.”

Vecna nearly sinking the entirety of Hawkins eliminated any need for an Exorcist-esque lie, but that’s still what it was - a lie. Dustin lied to everyone, he lied to Steve. But it was to protect Eddie and Wayne from any further harm. Surely his friends would understand that?

“How’s he doing?” Eddie asks suddenly. “Wayne. How’s he doing?”

“He was putting up missing posters for you in the high school when I saw him.”

“Okay, that’s what he’s doing - I want to know how he’s doing.”

Dustin tilts his head down to look at Eddie. “How do you think he’s doing, Ed?” he asks somberly. “I told him I was with you during the earthquake. That I saw you die.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything. He looks away, back into the darkness of the cave, and takes a deep, quivering breath. He has no witty comeback, no smart remarks. He just sits and stares, and he pinches the bridge of his nose before sniffling and clearing his throat.

“But I told him you died a hero,” Dustin says. Eddie nods, looking down at his lap, a watery smile on his face.

“Yeah. A hero.”

“You are a hero, Eddie,” Dustin assures him. “You’re a hero to me.”

Eddie’s smile splits his face apart further, and he meets Dustin’s gaze evenly, dark eyes wet with unshed tears. He grunts, pushing himself up on his knees again, and hobbles over to Dustin’s side of the cave. He flops down beside him unceremoniously, throwing an arm over Dustin’s shoulders and knocking their heads together gently.

“You’re pretty heroic yourself, man,” he says sincerely. He jostles Dustin against him, ruffling his curly hair with one hand. “You pulled my ass out of the Upside Down with a busted leg.”

“You would’ve done the same for me,” Dustin says confidently.

“Kid, after everything we’ve been through, I’d steal the moon out of the sky and crush it up into a d20 for you.”

They both laugh, and Dustin leans into Eddie’s side, smiling.

He lied. He’s technically aiding a fugitive, since “presumed dead” doesn’t mean much to conspiracy theorists who will probably always tell stories of Eddie “The Freak” Munson, the devil-worshipping dungeon master who disappeared without a trace. But sitting in this cave, with Eddie safe and alive, his grimy hair tickling his cheek, reeking of sweat and dirt and antibacterial spray, Dustin knows he will lie for the rest of his life if it means he gets to keep his friend safe.

Friends don’t lie. But friends always protect.

#stranger things #stranger things fix it #stranger things fic #stranger things vol 2 spoilers #stranger things 4 #stranger things vol 2 #fix it fic #eddie munson #eddie munson fix it fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #dustin henderson #dustin henderson fanfiction #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #angst #angst fic #hurt/comfort

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weelittleweasley · 4 years ago

Text

mr. and mrs. (f.w.)

prompt as requested by anon and @the-romanian-is-bae: the morning after your wedding to fred feels surreal.

pairing: post war! fred weasley x fem! reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: mentions of the war, marriage, mentions of nudity and sex, food, mention of children and pregnancy, fluffy

a/n: short little fred fluff hehehe

tag list: @rosaliepostsstuff @harrysweasleys @lumos-barnes @c-t-h @lol-idk-oops @another-lonely-heart @weasleylangs @shilohpug @peachypotter @spacexcowgirl @paintballkid711 @vogueweasley @kaseyrose @hufflepuff5972 @amourtentiaa @sweeterthansammy @loonylovegood13 @lostaurorax @freddie-weaselbee @freds-slut @missmulti @evermoreweasley @dracoswhore007 @theorangedrummer @emmaev @wholebigboxofyikes @the-romanian-is-bae @lostaurorax @Inglourious-imagines @nuttytani @onlyfreds @fandomhideout @lilypad-55449 @v4l3nt1n44 @potters-heart @hufflepuffhaze @hogwarts-boys @andineverwould @butterflybuchanan

Soft winds swirled their way into the open windows and into the master bedroom of a cabin in the middle of nowhere in the woods. The wind smelt of dew and honeysuckle as it wafted over your nose, your eyes fluttering open, adjusting to the sunlight that streamed in. White chiffon curtains seemed to dance in the wind as you awoke from your slumber.

You awake with a yawn and stretch, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. As you stretch the sleep from your body, you wince at the aching between your legs as you blush, the memories of last night flashing through your brains like snapshots. That’s when you look next to you and find a stirring Fred with his muscular arm draped over your waist. Your eyes follow his arm before landing on his hand, your eyes stopping at his ring finger. A silver band on it that wasn’t on there before. Your first full day as a married couple has begun.

“Lay back down please,” Fred grumbles into his pillow as he urges you to come back down to lay with him. “It’s so early.”

With a smile, you sigh and scoot back down to where Fred was lying peacefully. As you lift your hand to comb through his ginger hair, you realize that you had a matching wedding band. You could get used to this. “It’s ten o’clock, darling,” you brush his hair with your fingers as Fred hums contently. “Don’t you want to start the day? Now that we are officially Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,” you wiggle your brows.

Fred rolls over so he can catch a good glimpse of you. As he looks up, his breath is quite literally taken away. You hovered above him, the sunlight adorned your face in a way that made you look unearthly, a soft smile playing on your lips as you looked down at your new husband. Fred couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest man alive as he adored you in this moment. He had waited for this moment for so long. The morning after your wedding, just the two of you, in peace, alone.

The war had put everything into perspective for Fred. War brought along devastation, loss, chaos, pain, and a lot of suffering. His near death experience made him realize that there was no reason to wait any longer to marry the one person he loved more than anything in the world. Fred knew from that moment forward that he would do anything to spend the rest of his days with you and he wanted to start as soon as possible. There was no point in waiting any longer. Fred wanted you, and you alone.

Reaching up to brush the hair from your eyes, Fred smiled and thought for a moment. “That has such a nice ring to it,” Fred beams as you giggle. “(Y/N) Weasley,” he recites. “(Y/N) Weasley,” he repeats, laying on his back now, facing the ceiling, his bare toned chest rising and falling with each repetition of your new and improved name. “(Y/N) Weasley. I love it. But not as much as I love you,” he coos as you roll your eyes.

“Very cheesy,” you tell him before placing a sweet kiss to his lips. “Come on then, let’s get up,” you speak as you swing your legs over the side of the bed before he grabs them with one of his arms, pulling you further into the bed.

“Not so fast,” he stops you, dragging you closer to him. “The whole point of a honeymoon is that we aren’t obligated to do anything,” he kisses you temple as you giggle in his arms. “We can just lay here all day if we want to...and have sex.”

“There it is,” you laugh as Freddie joins in with a low chuckle.

“But really. I just want to lay with you. Right here, just the two of us, enjoying the peace and quiet. Godric knows when the honeymoon is over we both have lots to do,” Fred groans, just thinking about the amount of work he’s going to have to do, getting the shoppe back up and running with George. All the inventory, all the orders he has to fulfill, all of the bills he has to pay, all of the trips to Gringotts he will have to make. It was too tedious to think about when all he wanted to do was lay in this king sized bed with his wife, tracing miscellaneous patterns on to each other’s exposed skin, sneaking kisses every now and then.

With a smile, you cuddle further into Fred’s arms, obeying his wishes. “Then that’s what we’ll do,” you tell him, pressing a kiss to his jaw before he captures your lips in a kiss. “Just me and you.”

Fred smiles, content with you laying on his bare chest, legs tangled up in each other, him pulling you impossibly closer to his chest. It was something out of a dream. Finally being able to call you his forever and ever and even after that. “Perfect,” Fred sighed, pressing a kiss to your hairline.

As you laid in the bed, the sweet sounds of the morning echoed in the small cabin. Birds chirping, trees rustling in the wind, Fred softly breathing beneath you. It seemed like this was a scene from a movie. Everything so still and quiet, as if this moment was crafted for the two of you. It was as if you were meant to be here, right now, together like this.

You look up at Fred, stroking your forefinger on his jaw as he peeks down at you. “Yesterday was perfect, wasn’t it?” you ask with a smile as you prop yourself up on your elbow to better look at your handsome husband. He looked unreal right now, ginger hair sloppily tousled (thanks to your doing last night), swollen pink lips, big brown eyes dosed with fatigue. Fred was an angel on Earth.

Fred smiles to himself, “Absolutely. It’s everything I could have asked for. You know, besides the rain. And the tent falling down. But it was perfect.” You both laugh at the memory of the wedding.

The weather forecast was supposed to be sunny all day yesterday. A perfect spring day for your wedding. But after the ceremony, the heavens seemed to open and rain came pouring down, absolutely drenching the entire reception. All of the wedding guests shrieked and made a break for the tent that had been set up for the party, but within minutes, the water had collected on the roof of the tent, making it collapse on itself and saturate the party guests underneath it. This caused all guests to then dash for the Burrow, seeking shelter in the small home. Arthur and George ushered guests in as Molly started the fireplace, trying to create a source of warmth for the guests. As people filed into the Burrow, you and Fred stayed behind and laughed and danced in the rain, Fred spinning you around as he cheered that the both of you were finally married. Despite Ginny’s protests that the both of you would catch a cold in the rain, you and Fred continued to run around, getting your dress and his tuxedo absolutely soaked before finally surrendering and running into the Burrow.

The rest of the night was more than you could ever ask for. After all the guests had dried themselves off and warmed up sufficiently, the party was in full swing. Music played, people ate and drank, cracked jokes, relished in old memories, created new memories, danced with each other, and enjoyed the night. It was beautiful chaos. How fitting for this family.

After George had given the best man speech, you found yourself sitting on Fred’s lap, watching the party, your head resting on top of his. You watched as your family interacted with Fred’s, your friends mingling with his friends. Your two worlds were finally melting together in a beautiful symphony and you couldn’t be happier. This was all you ever wanted. You and Fred didn’t need to say any words to each other. You were both content beyond words.

You and Fred both laid in bed for another hour, sharing kisses, falling in and out of sleep, recalling events from the wedding. Finally, the both of you peeled yourselves from the bed and dressed yourself for the day. And by dressing yourself, it was you wearing nothing but sleep shorts and Fred’s large shirt and Fred a pair of boxer briefs and nothing else.

The pair of you shuffle your way into the kitchen, Fred starting a kettle for tea, you opening the fridge to find something to cook for breakfast. You grab eggs, a pack of bacon, and some bread for toast, starting to cook for the both of you. As you cook your (very late) breakfast, you glance over at Fred who pours you both a cup of tea, humming a song as a small smile dances on your lips. You could get used to mornings like this. Waking up next to Fred, starting each morning together in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. Not to mention, the view wasn’t too shabby.

Fred wraps his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to the base of your neck as you flip the frying bacon in the pan. “Mrs. Fred Weasley,” Fred says, a smile evident in his voice as you chuckle. “I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of that,” he says, dancing around the kitchen. “Mrs. Fred Weasley. Introducing Mrs. Fred Weasley! That’s my wife, Mrs. Fred Weasley,” he repeats as you smile, shaking your head. “What a name.”

You open up the cabinets in the kitchen, searching for plates to serve your scrambled eggs, bacon, and buttered toast on. “Well, Mrs. Fred Weasley needs help finding the plates,” you tell your husband as he chuckles, walking over to the cabinet and reaching above your head and grabbing the plates for the both of you.

The two of you serve yourselves as you sit on the countertop of the kitchen island, Fred standing beside you. You and Fred quietly eat in comfortable silence before Fred interrupts it, speaking lowly, “So it’s…” he looks at the clock hanging on the wall, “a little past noon. Did you want to do anything special today? We could go to the beach or go for a walk or we could apparate somewhere?” he suggests.

A smirk creeps onto your face as you lick the butter from your finger before speaking, “Or we could have sex in the shower?”

Fred smiles before shaking his head, “I love you so much.”

The rest of the day is spent lazily. You bounce from the bed to the couch to the kitchen back to the bed. Typically honeymoons were couples going on adventures together and exploring and trying new things. But there was something so comforting about a cabin in the woods, just you and your husband enjoying your time together. After everything the war had put you through, you were owed two weeks of absolutely nothing. Even if it was just sleeping, eating, and having sex. It was all spent with Fred.

Dusk creeped around the corner as quickly as the morning came and you found yourself back in bed, resting next to Fred. This time his head resting on your stomach as you combed through his hair, his hands rubbing up and down your legs soothingly. “After we move into our house in London,” Fred starts imagining as you play along, “what’s next?”

You think for a moment, pondering the possibilities for the life you and Fred could create. “After we move, and we both go back to work,” you sigh at the thought of starting work again, “I say we ease back into things. There’s no rush to do anything so soon. We’ve got forever ahead of us,” you tell him as you smile down at him. “But that being said, I do want to have kids,” you say under your breath as Fred laughs.

“Alright,” Fred chuckles. “We can ease into everything, especially starting a family.” You smile and lean further back into the pillows. “But while we’re on the topic of children…” Fred speaks, sitting up as you roll your eyes, knowing exactly where this was going. “How many?”

You knew very well Fred wanted a large family. He grew up with a full house and he appreciated the chaos and noise and constant movement as he grew up. Although it could be much at times, he loved knowing that his family always had his back. “I don’t know, Freddie,” you sigh, rubbing your face with your hands as Fred laughs. “How many do you want?”

Fred shrugs, “I dunno. Five? Maybe six?”

“Maybe six?!” you yelp as Fred chuckles to himself. “Listen, I know your mother had seven of you, but I don’t know if my...birthing canal can take that,” you tell him, making Fred laugh. “I mean, four? Sure! Reasonable. Four is a lot, but I can do four! But six? Six, Frederick Weasley? I don’t know if I can do six!” you exclaim, only making Fred laugh harder.

“We don’t have to have six, darling,” Fred laughs, clutching his sides. “We can stop after one or four or six or whatever. As long as it’s with you.”

You sigh, shaking your head and looking down at your caring husband. “How can you manage to find a way to make things sweet?” you tell him, placing a soft kiss to his lips. “Amount of kids is to be determined. All I know is that I do want a girl,” you look at him knowingly.

Fred huffs, “Well, it took Mum seven times to get a girl...so who knows…”

“Oh, shut up, Fred!”

#fred #Fred and George #fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fic #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley smut #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #fred weasley x reader imagine #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x female reader #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley x fem #HP #harry potter fanfic

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yourstrulylightstar283 · 1 year ago

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My Voice Fancast for Donkey Kong characters and some Mario characters - Revised version

For disclaimer, I don't own Donkey Kong franchise, Mario franchise and their characters.

The people I cast for this voice fancast (c) Themselves

Travis Willingham(Reminds me of Travis Willingham's vocal performance as Knuckles(Including Sonic Boom animated series).) as Donkey Kong

Eric Bauza(Eric Bauza voiced Diddy Kong in The Super Mario Bros. Movie.) or Greg Cipes as Diddy Kong

Hynden Walch as Dixie Kong

Mark Hamill or Bill Farmer(Aron Tager(The voice talent of Cranky Kong in Donkey Kong Country animated series) passed on in 2019, rest in peace to him. 😢) as Cranky Kong

Tress MacNeille or Kath Soucie as Wrinkly Kong

Keith Ferguson as Funky Kong and Toad

Grey DeLisle(Grey Griffin) as Candy Kong and Kiddy Kong(Dinky Kong)

Cristina Valenzuela(Cristina Vee) or Christine Marie Cabanos as Tiny Kong

Bill Fagerbakke as Chunky Kong

Tom Kenny(Reminds me of Tom Kenny's vocal performance as SpongeBob SquarePants.) as Lanky Kong

Sam Marin as Swanky Kong

Dee Bradley Baker as Squawks, Rambi, Expresso, Enguarde, Winky, Rattly, Squitter, Glimmer, Clapper, Quawks, Ellie, Parry, Lightfish, Hoofer, Flurl, Orco and Helibird - All of Animal Friends

Adrian Truss(Adrian Truss voiced General Klump in Donkey Kong Country animated series and DKC: Return to Krocodile Isle.) as General Klump

Fred Tatasciore(Len Carlson(The voice talent of Krusha in Donkey Kong Country animated series) passed on in 2006. Rest in peace, Mr. Len Carlson. 😢) as Krusha

Tara Platt as Kalypso

Kari Wahlgren as Kass

Patrick Warburton as K. Lumsy

"Weird Al" Yankovic as Mario Mario and Luigi Mario

Jennifer Hale as Princess Toadstool(Princess Peach)

Kate Higgins(Kate Davis) as Princess Daisy and Pauline - Kate Higgins(Kate Davis) voiced Pauline in Mario series and she sung "Jump Up, Super Star!" in Super Mario Odyssey("Jump Up, Super Star!" was performed by the Super Mario Players and sung by Kate Higgins a.k.a. Kate Davis(The voice talent of Pauline).).

Stephanie Sheh or Andrea Libman or Laura Bailey as Toadette

Jessica DiCicco as Mario & Luigi's mother(Mama Mario) - Jessica DiCicco voiced Mama Mario(Mario and Luigi's mother) in The Super Mario Bros. Movie.

Totaka Kazumi(Kazumi Totaka) as Yoshi - Totaka Kazumi(Kazumi Totaka) is the voice talent of Yoshi.)

Rob Paulsen as Wario, Waluigi and Mario & Luigi's father(Papa Mario)

Scott Burns(One of Bowser's voice talents) as Bowser Koopa

Kevin Michael Richardson(Kevin Michael Richardson voiced Kamek in The Super Mario Bros. Movie.) as Kamek

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ickle-ronniekins · 4 years ago

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forever, i choose you

desc: he’s always been everyone’s second choice, in every aspect of his life. george weasley just wants to be someone’s first.

word count: 3.9k

pairing: george weasley x muggle!reader

warning(s): idk you might cry, i sure did but what else is new. loneliness/discussion of sexual content/idk

A/N: i still have no motivation to write and/or read. and it’s the absolute worst. but i wrote the bulk of this story back in december/the beginning of january, and i figured maybe i’d try and write the ending and publish it and see if it’ll spark any inspiration in me. i’m real, real, real sorry if i haven’t gotten to your fics to read (i’ve got them all saved!) i just don’t know what’s wrong with me atm and it’s THE WORST. also it might evoke more emotion if you listen to this while reading this lil fic. thank you, to all of you, for your support and patience, always.

disclaimer: i do not give consent for my work to be posted on ANY other platform.

Seven-year-old George Weasley watched with wide eyes and a goofy grin as his father twirled his mother in the family space of their normally bustling and loud home. But tonight, the Burrow was quiet. Everyone was already sound asleep, his five brothers and his younger sister. George should be too, but he just couldn’t fall asleep no matter how much he tried. He fidgeted uncomfortably in his sheets and kept groaning, and it wasn’t long before his twin brother Fred threw a few pillows at his face, and eventually, George decided to get up and go for a stroll.

He hid strategically on the staircase so his parents wouldn’t see that he was still wide awake at nearly midnight, and he watched as they swayed lightly to the music emitting from somewhere in the house. It was light as a feather, the music, a small piano tune that echoed through the lower level, its sounds traveling effortlessly up the stairs of the home. Mr. Weasley dipped his wife and Mrs. Weasley giggled like some of the young girls George had seen in the village, kind of a nervous giggle, and he watched her blush. He saw his mother placed her head gently on Mr. Weasley’s chest and they both closed their eyes, and George wondered if they were happy to have a moment of peace without their seven children running around causing mayhem.

He wondered if they danced like this every evening, after everyone had already gone to bed.

George noticed a weird sort of feeling in his chest; he wondered why his heart was hurting. Was it because there was something wrong? But then he realized that wasn’t the case, for the aching in his heart came from his pure desire to find exactly what his mum and dad had -- a love like none other, with seven children, a home with multiple stories, and more treacle tarts than one needs.

He vowed in that moment, as he watched his parents from the staircase and tapped his foot quietly in rhythm with the music, that he’d find love like that one day.

He wanted someone to choose him first, just like his parents chose one another.

He brought his hand to his chest, as if to calm his rapidly beating heart, for the sheer idea of finding a love like theirs filled him with such excitement that he was certain he wouldn’t be able to sleep now. Seven-year-old George Weasley laid in bed, ignoring the soft snores from his twin across the room, his eyes wide with wonder as he dreamt of the woman he’d dance with one day.

Twelve-year-old George Weasley wasn’t ready to date. He was only twelve years old! He much preferred to dream.

He knew when he looked at the girl across from him that she wasn’t the one, lovely as she was. He adjusted his Gryffindor tie and cleared his throat and focused on the Potions assignment in front of him. It wasn’t exactly a date, was it? He was in a Potions lesson with his classmates, and Snape. But when the cute blackhaired Hufflepuff approached him and asked if he’d like to work together on the next of Snape’s ridiculous concoctions, Fred poked his brother in the ribs and winked, as if to say, If you don’t partner up with her, you’re a right prat.

And so George did what he thought was gentlemanly and he said yes. He could tell by the rose pink colour that flooded her cheeks that she was smitten with him, and that she’d asked him to be her partner because she was smitten. And he had to admit, she really was quite cute and very, very kind.. and rather smart for her age as well. And he knew that she’d make some man very, very happy someday. It just wouldn’t be him.

He did what was asked of him. He measured out the correct amount of powdered Griffin claw. He made sure he and his partner had enough salamander blood for their strengthening solution. And he smiled back at his partner, though his heart and his mind were still with the girl he’d dance with one day.

The Hufflepuff tried her hardest to capture his heart, but it belonged to someone he had yet to meet.

She wasn’t the one that felt like home.

-- -

Sixteen-year-old George Weasley didn’t understand why all of his classmates wanted to snog people and move onto someone else without so much as a blink.

So many people were pairing off and lasting less than a week before moving onto someone new. George rattled his brain for answers, he searched the eyes of his classmates for explanations, but he couldn’t understand why people would want to hop from one person to another. Didn’t they want to find love, a love that’s long lasting and pushes boundaries and moves mountains and weathers the storms it meets?

But perhaps, he worried, maybe that’s where he was going wrong.

Maybe, in order to find what he truly yearned for, he needed to be reckless and love without really loving.

Maybe he needed to search less, in order to find her.

And so he decided, with much persuasion from Fred, that he’d ask that pretty brunette Ravenclaw to the Yule Ball, and he’d dance and drink firewhisky and maybe he’d even kiss her, if the courage he tried to summon stayed with him throughout the night.

And maybe if he did all those things, he’d forget about the one his heart desperately craved.

And for a little while, he really did forget. Perhaps he could get on board with this “love the one you’re with” mentality. Maybe he could just be in the moment without worrying about everyone else. Maybe he could kiss girls without feeling anything, maybe he could date casually, maybe he could be like everyone else his age and not think about weddings and marriage and having children.

“Georgieee,” the Ravenclaw slurred on the dance floor. She tugged on his tie and pulled him close. He could smell the firewhisky on her breath and his heart began to pound when she pressed her lips lightly to his cheek. “Dance with meeee.”

No, this wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted more than this. He’d always wanted more than this.

George begrudgingly agreed and caught Fred’s eye from across the dance floor. The elder twin threaded his brows together and pushed the air with his hands, as if encouraging his younger brother to go for it. The Ravenclaw dazedly draped her arms across George’s shoulders and he sheepishly looked down toward his feet, but didn’t wrap his arms around her.

“George Weasleeeeyyyy,” she slurred again, hiccoughing in between giggles, “I said dance with meeeeeee.”

He tried to fight it, tried not to think of what he always did, but he couldn’t help it.

This girl was not the one. He could tell, because there was no love in the way she said his name. There was no true feeling in the surplus of kisses she kept pressing to his jawline, and there was no warmth radiating from her -- not the kind that mattered, anyway.

He knew, as he placed his hands gently on her waist and swayed with her to the music, that this was not what love felt like. This is not what home felt like.

He danced anyway, even though it was not the kind of dancing he’d seen his parents do all those years ago, and he allowed himself to think about what the rest of his classmates weren’t -- the person he’d hold in his arms, who’d be the mother to his children, who’s kisses would send him spiraling, who’s embraces would become all too familiar in a way that would comfort him in the darkest of times.

He allowed himself again, to dream of true love.

-- -

Seventeen-year-old George Weasley was sick and tired of waiting for the one.

It sounded kind of dramatic in his own head, seeing as he was only seventeen, but he’d known now for ten years exactly what he was looking for, and ten years seemed like a lifetime.

It didn’t help that nearly all of his friends had gotten over their casual dating scene and were now all enthralled with their significant others. He felt so painfully lonely, though he’d never admit it to a soul. He could hardly admit it to himself.

One evening, he shot up from the couch and out of the common room in a fit of fury, for if he had to see Fred and Angelina snogging in the corner for one more minute, he was quite certain he was going to explode from disgust. He was happy for his brother, of course he was, but he didn’t need to see it. Not as often as that.

He found Ron sitting in the Great Hall with Ginny, Harry, and Hermione and plopped beside them all before engaging in exciting rounds of exploding snap. But as the night grew darker and he grew more tired, George noticed the undeniable chemistry between his sister and Harry and his brother and Hermione. Though they all hadn’t admitted to one another how they felt, George had found it obvious, and he politely excused himself before he tugged his jacket rather angrily around his shoulders before he walked out into the winter storm, just to feel the cold air numb his skin.

He walked out of the castle, over toward the owlery, through the treacherous amounts of snow. Anything to distract George from everyone who’d apparently been hit by Cupid’s bloody arrow.

Ever since he was born, it had always been Fred and George. What about George and Fred? Was it because Fred was older? And why were people always lumping them together? Just because they’re twins? George loathed that. They were individuals too. He was always second, in everything.

In getting hand-me-downs from his older brothers. In being referred to with his twin. In lessons when the professors would call out their names for attendance, because F came before G in the alphabet. And even when it came to love; all the girls always seemed to flock to Fred instead, because he was more exciting. More boisterous. Less shy.

The cold, winter air bit violently at his exposed skin, and he reckoned it hurt less than watching everyone around him find someone that chose them, all while he was still waiting for the right person to choose him.

George Weasley didn’t want to be someone’s second choice.

He wanted to be someone’s first.

-- -

Twenty-year-old George Weasley didn’t know how exactly he ended up here.

He didn’t know how he ended up in a relationship three years deep, without having said “I love you” once and actually meaning it.

George thought he might’ve found her, his person, during his seventh year. She was beautiful and kind and everything he thought he’d hoped and dreamt of. Her soft touch, her yearning eyes, the way she curled up next to him in the dormitories late at night and held onto him as she slept -- it was everything, and it seemed to be perfect.

He thought that maybe, perhaps, she was it. But even so, he found himself waiting, still, for that feeling… the one on the staircase he’d felt so long ago.

But the pain of realizing that she wasn’t who he’d been searching for was more heartbreaking than the pain of him asking her to leave.

He’d been looking at her through rose coloured lenses and had been ignoring the truth that was right in front of him.

He should’ve left years ago, when that Gryffindor girl began to make backhanded jokes about the shop, and his dreams of becoming a business entrepreneur, claiming that she was only joking around.

He should’ve left when that girl showed up late to the grand opening of their shop, nearly a year into their relationship.

He should’ve left when he held her in his arms, and still didn’t feel comfortable beside her.

His heart ached for it, what he’d felt on the staircase at the mere age of seven. And perhaps he’d become so desperate for it, that he took something disguised as true love.

But the truth was that he knew, deep in his soul, that this Gryffindor girl wasn’t the one. He’d just chosen, outright, to ignore it. Perhaps if he could forget that idea that “the one” would smack him square in the face with an overwhelming sensation of knowing, he could have learned to love her, even when he hadn’t had that smack in the face moment when he’d met her all those years ago.

But it hadn’t happened, had it? He hadn’t grown to love her. Not truly, anyway. And she hadn’t grown to love him. Not in the way he wanted to be loved, at least.

Because it was more than just heated kisses and lazy days in bed and all things physical that he wanted.

It was about love. Pure, blinding, unadulterated love.

He stood frozen solid in the middle of his tiny flat and watched as that Gryffindor girl grabbed her coat off of the hanger and raised her hand slightly before slipping silently into the dimly lit hallway for the very last time. And George poured himself a glass of bourbon and sat near the window, looking up at the stars, expecting to feel sad at her departure, but in fact, he didn’t feel sad at all.

He felt hopeful.

He hadn’t found the one yet, but he knew she was out there, getting to him as fast as she possibly could.

Though his brothers had urged him to come to the pub and meet someone else, George didn’t fancy the idea of doing that. He was over that entire scene, just as he was in school when everyone was pairing off and moving on immediately. He didn’t want something fleeting, and he didn’t want something meaningless.

He wanted something true.

-- -

Twenty-three-year old George Weasley was certain that he was never going to find that feeling ever again, for as long as he lived.

While all of his friends were out at the pubs, meeting people and fooling around as if feelings weren’t involved, George was walking aimlessly through the streets to work. He was constantly dealing with the haze above his head, waiting for it to lift. He was turning down girls left and right and ignoring his brothers’ insistence on dating casually again.

He didn’t want to waste any more of his time on people who weren’t going to reach out and trace circles onto his chest in the middle of the night, or who weren’t going to dance around the kitchen in his clothes while cooking dinner, or who weren’t going to look at him with eyes so tender, it would render him useless for days to come.

He’d been waiting sixteen years to find his person, the one who would choose him everyday over everyone else, and in hindsight it didn’t quite seem like a long time. But as he cried silently to himself every few nights in bed, feeling the empty space next to him and yearning for the one who was meant to be there, sixteen years felt like a lifetime.

He thought for a long while, that maybe she was in another country, or maybe she was an auror or something, fighting her way through the monsters of the wizarding world.

He’d thought for a bit that perhaps he just hadn’t met her yet.

But as the days dragged on and he found himself lost in crowds, searching face after face, looking for hers, he truly felt as though all hope was lost.

And so George paced back and forth in the kitchen of his flat, biting at his nails and pouring himself hefty glasses of wine, keen on ignoring everyone’s attempts at getting him to come out.

Maybe this was what he deserved.

Maybe because he wasn’t out there, sleeping with people whose names he wouldn’t remember come morning like everyone else, he was just going to be alone.

Maybe there really wasn’t someone out there for him. Maybe not everyone finds true love. Maybe his parents had just gotten lucky.

The dull ache in George’s heart grew stronger, and for the upteenth night in a row, he laid in bed and gripped the covers and cried himself to sleep, his tears sliding down his cheeks the same way the evening rain slid down the window terrace.

-- -

Twenty-four-year old George Weasley stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he felt it.

That feeling. The one from the staircase as he watched his parents dance, all those years ago.

Heart pounding, chest rising, hands freezing.

It hit him square in the chest without warning, nearly knocking him over though his feet were rooted into the ground at the spot, smack dab in the middle of that cafe in the middle of London.

Someone was playing a slow, soft piano tune coming from the other end. People were filtering in and out, asking the man in front of them what exactly he was staring at and why he wasn’t moving. But George Weasley stood where he was, not taking his eyes off of you.

You were reading furiously, flipping through pages of a book gripped tightly in your hands, as though you couldn’t devour the plot fast enough. George watched with admiration as a gentle smile tugged at your lips, as your eyes scanned the words quickly, as you tapped your foot on the ground, in rhythm with that slow piano.

He watched with dazed eyes and parted lips as you finished the end of your book. You dabbed your eyes with a tissue and clutched the book tightly to your chest, overwhelmed, clearly, by the end of the plot. George’s heart soared so high at your passion that he found himself struggling to hold back the I love you that was pressing behind his lips.

You immediately took a long sip of your tea and placed your finished book back into your bag, only to pull out another and immediately immerse yourself in the next story. George laughed to himself, stunned that you were so intent on falling into someone else’s storyline, if only for a little while, that you hadn’t dared take a break from one book to the next. You merely jumped right in.

He wondered if his overwhelming feelings called out to you like a signal of sorts, because just as he was working up the courage to walk over to you, you looked up. You searched the room for a moment before meeting his gaze and suddenly, the world around you both stopped.

George found himself wanting to know everything about you. He itched to devour up any and all information you’d be so kind to provide to him -- your name, your favorite color, your birthday. He wanted to know what book you’d just been reading, and what about it had moved you so much to the point of tears. He wanted to know everything, but deep in his soul, he also knew that he’d have years to learn it all.

In fact, he’d have the rest of forever.

Your eyes went soft and George began to feel the steady pounding of his heart increase, and to his amazement, he noticed a gentle smile tug at the edges of your lips.

And he smiled back.

He’d been right all along. That feeling of finding the one would smack him square in the face. He wondered, as he peered at you now, biting down on your bottom lip and looking toward the ground, why he’d ever doubted himself in the first place. And he wondered when you looked back up at him once again and raised a hand to say hello, if you’d been smacked in the face with that feeling too, just like he had.

He resisted the urge to pour his heart out to you, right here and right now. He’d have time.

Perhaps today was just about having today, and recognizing that you were everything he’d been looking for since that evening on the staircase.

He’d tell you this one day.

-- -

“And what does… Lumox mean again?”

George laughed and squeezed your hands. “You mean, Lumos?”

You bit your lip in embarrassment and laughed, too. “Yes! Lumos. That’s the one that produces light, right?”

George brought your hands to his lips and kissed them gently. You two were seated inside a bustling restaurant in Diagon Alley, and he wondered if people passing by realized just how cozy you two looked together. “You’re more brilliant than most witches I know.”

You cocked your head to the side with an air of confidence and batted your eyelashes at him. “What can I say, Georgie? I may have been born a… Mugglie… but maybe I was meant to be a witch.”

George had to bite down on his lip to keep from laughing. He couldn’t get over how painfully adorable you were as you attempted to pronounce these wizarding words and learn spells and charms and things as he taught you all things about the wizarding world. You took his wand and pointed it at your wine glass, pretending to transfigure it. You couldn’t, of course, since you weren’t a magical being. But George didn’t mind. He could watch you pretend all day long.

In all his years of studying magic, he’d never felt anything quite like this.

BONUS, just because i hate feeling sad asf:

Thirty-two-year old George Weasley rocked his redheaded daughter back and forth in his arms, until he was certain that she was sound asleep again -- her mouth open wide as she began to snore softly when he placed her back into her crib.

He peered up at the clock on the wall and blinked a few times before 4:32 a.m. came into focus. Exhausted, he made his way back into his room before sliding into bed.

And there it was again. That feeling.

You turned over in bed to face him, squinting in the darkness as your eyes adjusted to the scene unfolding before you. Groggily, you reached out and traced your fingers across his jawline. His heart nearly stopped. “Is she alright?” you asked sleepily.

George grinned softly and leant forward before pressing a kiss to your forehead. He whispered, “She’s alright. Go back to sleep.”

Though your eyes were already shut, you reached out again and took his hand in yours before bringing your lips gently to his fingers. “Okay.. I love you.. G’night..”

But you were asleep again before George could respond, so instead he pulled you closely to him and began to gently trace circles on your bare shoulders. He breathed in the smell of your shampoo, and listened intently for the beating of your heart that had fallen into sync with his.

Tears pushed at the edges of his eyes, but he slowed his breathing and reminded himself, again, that there was no longer an empty space beside him in bed.

Maybe he shouldn’t have ever given up hope, but perhaps giving up hope was what made finding you so much sweeter.

If only he could tell seven-year-old George what he’d find when the time was right.

And in the darkness, as the rain pattered on the rooftop of his house and he felt your embrace tighten around his body, he whispered into the silence, “I love you, too.”

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