#anyways yeah I remembered that comic and found it again after fucking years and it destroyed me the same as it did like. 4 years ago.

[chipistrate]

Ugh. UGH. UGH!!! I FUCKING LOVE THEM GOD DAMN IT!!!! UGH!!!!!!!!!!

[wazzappp]

I drew. a lot for this. Also heads up for non RE mutuals this is going to be. confusing for you. I'm going to do my best to annotate and provide context but you are in for a wild ride.

Anyway long ass lore post for how Lisa and Robbie go from fighting to working together in this AU.

In the RE8 cannon all of the Dimitrescu daughters are made at the same time but for the sake of ✨the situations✨ I am going to change that. Lisa lived the longest as a human before being assimilated into the mold with a Cadou (infecting extension of the Megamycite). Technically her 'sisters' are older than her, as they were assimilated a while ago. Lisa has been a member of house Dimitrescu for about 2 years now. This puts her in this. Weird middle child zone. She wants to make her 'family' proud but she's also aware that what makes them proud isn't really the most achievable thing in the world (expecially with Bela to contend with. Older sibling overachiever to the maximum). She's got a certain degree of distance from them and sometimes wonders if she wasn't better off before all of this. Her memories are fuzzy but still there for the most part. She cant remember faces or names but she remembers feelings and situations. She doesen't remember families being like this (she wants OUT).

Chasing prey brought in is fairly standard for her. It's some of the only entertainment she gets. So when she catches Robbie exploring around the castle she has no idea that he's special in any way. He's just some new guy she gets to mess with before eating and DAMN he's FUN. If she didn't know any better she could almost think that he has experience being chased around (he does. he very much so does. all of RE7's worth). What she ALSO doesn't know is that Mother Miranda (big bad. Different from Lady Dimitrescu, who she refers to as 'mother') is planning on using Gabe (who is replacing baby Rose in this) to try and resurrect her dead kid with a 'perfect vessel' and this requires. uh. disassembly (in the base RE8 gameplay the reason Ethan goes to each house is because uhhhhhhhh his infant daughter has been dismembered and stored in jars and he needs to collect them so he can put her back together.... yeah). Robbie intervenes before this can get going and is instead going house to house because if he wants to get out of this stupid fuckass villiage he needs to collect the key components to unlock the gate keeping him in here (i need him to have a reason. to kill everyone. its important to me ok).

When Lisa finds out this random, but fun guy, she's been chasing who she thought was JUST SOME NORMAL GUY killed one of her sisters she mentally goes 'Oh. OH. THERES A CHANCE FOR ME TO GET OUT OF HERE'. That in conjunction with discovering Mother Miranda is planning on FULLY DISMEMBERING A CHILD she uh. Makes some decisions.

What you have to understand about her plans of matricide is that neither Lady Dimitrescu or her sisters can actually really fully die. Sure, their bodies are gone, but their consciousness is stored in the hive mind and they can reform later after gathering their strength. If she has to put her kinda shitty found family in time out for the sake of getting herself out of here + keeping her newly revived conscience clean she's absolutely going to do it.

(fuckin. backgrounds. dialogue. fuck. why can things not just take place inside of the void. DUKE MY BELOVED WE LOVE AND RESPECT DUKE IN THIS HOUSE HES A REAL ONE fuck now I got it in my head that he keeps trying to play matchmaker for them and i need to. go draw that because its too funny not to.)

Lisas plan involves this lab I had her mention in the comic above. It's where Robbie needs to go to synthesize more poison for the dagger of deaths flowers, and SUPPOSEDLY where a medicine that might allow her to go outside again might be (enemies of Lisas type become SIGNIFICANTLY weaker in the cold. She could try to bundle up but its still really not a good idea). She would love to go there herself, but it's in an area of the castle thats exposed to the cold of the outdoors.

The Two of them make a fairly decent team and Lisa finds herself having a LOT more fun hunting with someone else than she does on her own. They balance each other out pretty well; Robbie works primarily with guns so he can watch Lisas back while she's up close wrecking any grunts they run into. It's also pretty helpful having someone who can turn into a swarm of flies for puzzle solving purposes.

After all this Robbies trust for her increases SIGNIFICANTLY. He's still not really sure about her, but she's moved out of the 'active threat' classification into the 'kinda helpful' zone.

Lisa's plan has three ways it could go:

They all fail miserably and get sent to mental and physical time out in the megamycite.

They win and get to go free but either the medicine isn't there or it doesen't work. In which case she's just planning on getting as many coats as possible and Try-or-Die-ing it.

The medicine is there and she actually gets to roam free

Luckily for her, the medicine IS there, it DOES work, and Robbies sense of honor / noticing her usefulness (its hard to wage a one man war on an entire community of mutants ok you cant blame him for appreciating having some ACTUAL HELP for once) all align for the best possible scenario.

The cold does still affect her; her healing isn't as quick as it usually is and her increased strength / speed is a bit reduced, but she can go!! outside!!

She decided to stick with Robbie in getting out of the village as a whole. She doesen't really know what the world outside is like but anything has to be better than here (plus if she stays here she's probably getting shoved into the Megamycite by Mother Miranda PERMENANTLY and that just. wont do).

Also yes Lisa being with Robbie for the rest of his adventures means that she is there for Heisenbergs 'proposal'. She uh. Does not like that much.

this all made. more sense in my head I hope it at least makes a little sense out loud.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Blood Moon

Marc Spector/Moon Knight x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Mentions of murder, spouse death, child death, betrayal, blood, violence, guilt, depression, manhunt

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Yeah remember what I said about trying to finish this before Halloween? Yeah I'm a fucking liar don't ever take me for my word I am a monster.

This is where I decided to merge a tiny bit of lore from comics/MCU Moon Knight here in regards to his powers.

But anyways... Have this little tidbit into Marc's backstory! Marc and Randall are only about two years apart in age. So that means Marc is 36 at the time of this story. Forgive a few discrepancies here and there as I better establish a timeline.

Taglist: @badbishsblog

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Pt. 5

Living with Marc was certainly a hell of an experience. But, at the same time, you two were becoming a well-oiled machine. Barring the awkward slip-ups that had you two avoiding each other like the plague for hours, anyways.

It was nice, you found, to not be alone in your house anymore. You never realized it before, but you were always so... gray. Lifeless almost when you were alone. You didn't like to be left alone with your thoughts of yourself, of your inadequacies you'd never voice with anyone except your therapist.

But having Marc around eased that loneliness you actually hadn't realized you'd been feeling. Hell, it wasn't until he moved in and you got used to having another body in your house that you realized you were lonely in the first place.

Despite this, you'd realized that while yes, you had read his file and learned about his background, you'd yet to actually ask him about his past.

You haven't heard it directly from the horse's mouth, as it were.

But you decided not to broach the subject, yet. You still felt that it was too soon for that after your fight and make-up as a team to risk being at the throat of your new roommate.

Because, you realized, it was nice having one again. You hadn't had a roommate since you had been in foster care.

And you weren't ready to lose that just yet.

Marc had odd habits, to say the least. More often than not, you'd catch him actually sleeping in the basement on the old plush couch you kept down there, instead of his bedroom.

His bedroom was always kept immaculate, but the basement was his workspace and god, was it a mess.

Papers and tech strewn about, gear scattered on worktables as he took them apart to fix them or run maintenance; plus the cases containing your hero gear as well.

It looked like a college student crammed for their exam two hours before their finals almost every time you went down there...

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Tonight, you'd found Marc fast asleep, snoring softly as he sprawled out on the worn, suede couch, his body sinking into the ridiculously squishy cushions as he dreamt.

He had one arm draped over his face, one knee raised, and the other arm hanging off the edge of the cushions, a datapad clutched tightly in his hand.

It was almost cute.

You pulled out a quilt you nabbed at a yard sale, once and carefully draped it over him, as the basement could get rather chilly at times and poor Marc was passed out in nothing but his sweats and a t-shirt.

You put your hands on your hips and looked at the mess scattered on the surface of the coffee table in front of him, plus the few on the floor. A few SHIELD-issue tablets, and some paper files (yeesh, who even used those anymore?).

You chewed your bottom lip hesitantly, sparing the unconscious Marc a small glance before you felt a nagging in your gut. Curiosity was always one of your less... qualities at times.

How did that story about curiosity and the cat go, again?

Anyways...

You simply couldn't help yourself. What exactly was Marc always researching all the time?

You had to know. Even if it was just a tiny nugget of knowledge.

You sat in a squat next to Marc, looking at him as he breathed softly, showing no signs of stirring.

You slowly and as gently as possible, pulled the tablet in Marc's hand free of his calloused fingers, and stepped away from him to turn it on, so the light wouldn't stir him.

And you were glad you did, it almost blinded you when you hit the power button.

How the fuck did Marc see with shit this bright?

You had to fumble until you turned the brightness down, and let your eyes re-adjust.

The thing that immediately struck you was one line.

A name.

It made your blood chill, turning into icy sludge as it crawled through your veins; you felt your mouth go dry.

Randall Spector.

Age: 34

Race: Caucasian

Last known confirmed location: Paris, France.

The rest of the page had a list of crimes he was the main suspect of. Murder, theft, espionage, assassination...

You looked up, dumbfounded at Marc's sleeping body.

There was no way they could be related. It had to be common name, right?

You looked back down and scrolled to another page.

And your hopes that it was a common last name were dashed.

The picture of the man was this Randall, younger obviously, he looked to be in his early 20s in his Illinois ID.

But the resemblance to Marc was sickeningly uncanny. Randall had messy curly hair that was slicked back as best he could, and a charming smile that could no doubt put a heart attack at ease, his brown eyes glowing with humor in their depths as he grinned for the camera.

You swallowed hard at the lump in your throat and continued scrolling. The file contained grainy and blurry security footage of possible sightings over the years in various places across the globe.

The most shocking picture at the end, however... Was a picture of Marc with a group of people, Randall included.

They were, judging by the looks of it, in a desert of some kind. Randall hung on Marc, appearing to be laughing as the photo had been taken, meanwhile Marc stood, unusually clean-shaven and stoic, his arms crossed over his chest as he gave a small, ghost of a smile.

A young woman stood to Marc's left, holding onto his forearm as she smiled widely, her dark black, curly hair pulled back into a tight braid, her thick-rimmed glasses perched all the way up her nose.

Marc and that woman wore matching bands on their left ring fingers.

You brought your hand to your mouth in revulsion at the revelation, feeling your stomach roil in protest. It was either guilt, or horror because you knew... Marc had no family. You knew about his daughter being dead. But not her mother. Nothing about a brother.

You were in too deep now, and you just couldn't stop yourself.

You scrolled to a new page, detailing a small bit of information on that woman.

Erica Spector.

Age (deceased): 26

Race: Hispanic.

Cause of death: Vehicular Accident (Attributed to brake failure)

The picture of her ID broke your heart. She beamed at the camera, her slightly crooked teeth showing as she smiled proudly, a slight glare in her glasses as the flash hit the lenses.

The next photo, was her and Marc. At their wedding. She wore a gorgeous mermaid gown with a floral lace neckline, her sleeves ending in almost a bell-shape. Her hair hung down in gorgeous waves with violets pinned to the strands, framing her face and sun-kissed skin illuminated with highlighter as she smiled at the camera. Marc had been looking at the ground for whatever reason as they both stood at the altar, his arm around her waist and his hand adjusting the waistline of his dress pants.

But he was smiling. And it was such a gorgeous smile, teeth out, dimples in his cheeks and his eyes practically closed from how wide his lips were stretched.

The next photo broke your heart.

It appeared to be a maybe a year or so later (at most) after the photo of them in the desert.

Erica was pregnant, her belly sticking out far in the baby blue sundress she wore, holding up a cute pink onesie in her hands that simply read "Daddy's Princess" on the front in purple cursive font.

The photo after that one was of them in the hospital, Marc standing by the window of the hospital room, holding his newborn daughter in his arms, a soft, glowing smile on his face as her tiny fingers gripped his hand.

You felt your chest burn as you felt the gravity start to kick in, but you turned another page in the file.

Diatrice Spector

Age (deceased): 5

Race: Hispanic-Caucasian

Cause of death: Homicide (Found to be caused by gunshot wounds to the chest.)

You felt like your heart would give out at that word.

Homicide.

You assumed Marc lost his daughter in some horrible, tragic accident, like you'd lost your family.

But no. Three years ago, someone murdered his baby. And her babysitter.

The photos of the crime scene unfolded next, bloody boot prints everywhere, the babysitter's head partially caved in from a beating, and Diatrice--

"What the hell are you doing?!"

You jumped and almost dropped the tablet in your fright, spinning on your heels to see Marc staring at you from the couch, the quilt hastily tossed off of him.

You expected him to be angry, to look absolutely pissed at you.

Instead he looked... Terrified. Scared.

Heartbroken.

His gorgeous brown eyes were big, heavy dark circles hanging like curtains over his cheeks as he stared at you, mouth agape.

"I... I... I'm sorry, I... I didn't--" You stammer, swallowing hard, clutching the tablet against your chest.

"I was just..."

God, there was no excuse for this. You were curious. Curious and nosey, and you didn't have the guts to ask him anything about his past to his face yet, afraid for the repercussions that might cause; of the ripples it would trigger in the glass-like surface of the water of teamwork you two strove for.

Marc looks at you, your eyes locked in a tense, silent stare.

Then, he runs his hand through his air as he lets out a slow exhale, shoulders dropping.

He looks away and waves you over to sit next to him, and he scoots to the side.

The moment you sat down, you immediately thrust the tablet into his lap, your palms spreading over your knees as you bounced your feet.

"L-Look, I was just--"

"Stop." Marc sighed, setting the tablet on the coffee table. His voice was still heavy with sleep, that slightly gravelly tone you may or may not have fantasized about once or twice.

He looked at you, his lips pressed into a thin line before he spoke.

"How far did you get?"

Your nails dug into the fabric of your pajama pants as your legs bounced aimlessly, trying to alleviate the embarrassment, guilt, and shame of you snooping through his things.

"I..." You say, chewing the inside of your cheek.

God, you felt terrible.

Your body stopped cold when his heavy hand slid over your knee, stopping your movements in their place.

You felt his fingers squeeze you softly, before his palm rubbed the bones he could feel beneath your skin and muscle in a soothing gesture.

"I guess it's only fair I tell you about me, huh?" Marc sighed dejectedly, taking his hand off of you and wiping his face, as if that gesture alone could erase his fatigue.

"To answer the first few questions I know you have bouncing around in your head..." He added, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he stared at the paperwork and tablets on the table in front of you two.

"Yes. Randall is my brother. My little brother. And yes. I'm looking for him." Marc looked at you.

You were sitting patiently, your brows pinched and your expression pensive.

"Nobody would listen to me, but I know he caused the accident that killed Erica." You saw his throat bob hard as his expression darkened. "The investigation said she veered off the road due to bad conditions. But I'm not stupid. I looked into it myself, and bribed someone to let me look at the wreckage. The brake lines weren't torn during the crash, they were cut before the crash. Nobody would listen to me and I almost got arrested for interfering with an investigation. Yeah, right."

He snorted, a humorless and cold sound.

"They closed the case as an accident, wouldn't listen to me. Said I was "too hung up on the loss of my wife"." He made finger quotes. "So I investigated myself. God, fuck, I knew it was Randall... If they'd just listened to me... He..."

His voice broke up as he clenched his eyes shut.

"Diatrice wouldn't have been... I would still have her."

"Marc...." You say, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Why... why would Randall do this?"

He sighs deeply, a heavy sound coming from him like the air was just vacuumed out of his lungs.

"It... Fuck. Randall is the one who introduced me to Erica. I had just gotten out of the Marines. It just... They weren't a good fit for me, so I returned to Chicago. Home." Marc leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. "Randall had gotten a job in some security firm for archeological digs, which is where he met Erica. It was good money, he told me. They were friends. She just got her degree and was trying to get the spot on a dig site somewhere. We... hit it off fast. Within a year, we got married, Randall got me a job in his firm. A year after that, we went to Egypt with Erica on a dig."

"Your file said you got your powers on a dig in Egypt..." You say softly.

"Yeah. That same dig. It was a pain in the ass, we still don't know what exactly happened. I touched something, a statue, and... Poof. Powers." Marc lets out a slow hiss of air, his eyes closing, dark lashes touching his cheeks. "We finished the dig, everyone swore into secrecy. SHIELD found out about it anyways, and offered me a position. It's where I built my ankh and my tech."

"But... Peter said you got your powers from the ankh." You say, brows knit together in confusion.

"He's wrong. My file was put down incorrectly, but it's been fixed since I noticed the discrepancy after Peter mentioned that when he wanted my help during the Symbiote Invasion." Marc looked at you, his eyes tired and strained.

"But still. Something pissed Randall off. Randall and I weren't ever really friends, even as siblings. We tolerated each other. When I got those powers and he didn't? He just... he fucking snapped. After we returned from the dig, members of the team started turning up dead. Then, we found out we were expecting our first child. It turns out that Erica either got pregnant during the dig or shortly after."

You couldn't help but smile softly, your expression a bit pained. "During the dig? Marc..."

"Let's just say we were happy I wasn't dead after touching that statue." Marc said, closing his eyes with a nostalgic, yet sad smile.

"But anyways... with our baby on the way, we focused on that instead. When Diatrice was born, it was the happiest day of my life. She was a happy, bubbly little thing."

You sensed the shift from affectionate pride as he spoke about his daughter, to the grief you knew was coming as he spoke:

"Two years later, Erica had her "accident". Three years after that... Randall murdered Dee and Sandra. God. That poor girl. She was still so young. She tried so hard to keep him from hurting Dee."

He gritted his teeth and rested his arm over his face, most likely to hide the tears that wanted to roll free from the dam of his eyelids. Marc's voice was a weak tremble.

"After that, I started hunting, I moved my base of ops to the sewers. I went digging after he vanished. He became a hitman, a no-good killer for hire. Then I went to ground six months before the Symbiotes invaded. After that is when Peter found me, or well, I found him."

"And here we are, a year later..." You said softly.

"Yeah." He croaked out weakly.

You both sat in a long, pregnant silence. You weren't even sure how long it was, all you could hear was the sound of the water heater making noises now and again, and the buzzing fluorescent lights illuminating your basement.

"Marc?" You finally asked.

"Yeah?" He answered.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and lean back and over, until your head rested on Marc's shoulder.

You could feel him hold his breath and tense, and you waited until he breathed again to speak.

"...I'm sorry for snooping." You apologized.

"You were curious about me. It's not like I've been forthcoming about this shit." Marc sighed softly, his body softening slightly.

"But still. It was wrong." You say to him, closing your eyes as you take a deep breath.

The smokey, pine scent of his choice of cologne and body wash filled your nose, filtering around in your lungs as you take in the essence that is Marc Spector.

"Marc."

"Still here."

"Thank you... for telling me all of this." You whisper.

"It was about time I get it all out. I guess it just took the right battering ram to knock the door down."

You can't help but chuckle, and Marc joins in with you.

It was good to hear him laugh.

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Pt. 6: Coming Soon

[commiicc]

Hi. I'd like to talk a little about my time on social media as an artist. I'm sure a lot of this has been said by a ton of artists before me, but I'm going to say it again anyways.

My online handle is @ commiicc. I've gone by the alias Comic for a few years now. I was extremely active of Twitter during the height of the DreamSMP fandom. My time in this community brought me many memories and experience. Both good and bad. Today, I just want to focus on the art.

In my opinion and experience the art community of the DSMP fandom was so incredibly toxic. Artists were the backbone of the community. It was said time and time again. But this held many artists to unfair expectations. The turn around on art was insane. If art was not posted directly after or the day after the stream/ event it would flop. Posts would circulate about the perfect posting times, which I would memorize, then be so sad when I'd post at those times and a price would still fail. I'd blame myself. I'd internalize it and think I just wasn't good enough. It was never my art. It was simply the shit algorithm that is any social media, but that didn't stop me of course.

And I watched so many young artists beg for followers, because validation meant everything. And we all wanted to be mutuals with the popular, big twitters because that meant we'd made it... right?

I watched followers drop and people ask if they'd done something wrong to deserve it because canceling was so common. It was usually just bots being deleted, but "what if I did something wrong" was always everyone's go to.

Going back to artists being the backbone of the community and pumping out content. I used to say how thankful I was for the community because it made me grow and find my style. But in reality, I only found my style once I stepped back and took time on a piece. I was just slapping shit together back then. I hated most of what I made during that time. It was all rushed. Because no one gave me time. I always felt so rushed to post something so it gets attention. Post something so my followers don't think Im leaving. Because if you took too long to post (more than a week) you'd start losing people. I was a small artist and craved that attention... So I forced myself to create, even if I had no ideas. It's pushed me into burn out.

I'd compare myself to other artists who somehow created masterpieces in like two hours when it took me ages to do anything. I compared myself to everyone and hated everything I did. It was incredibly unhealthy.

I've only just now started making things I enjoy again.

Even when I switched fandoms I was still in the mindset of pushing out art, so I hate it all.

Only after burning myself out can I now restart and find my style... Can I now actually create again.

And I know that's just the culture of social media. and people used to tell me "just don't care" "just don't look at the views". do you know how hard it is to be a 16, 17, even 18 years old and NOT look at that??? to be a new artist and NOT care how much attention your art gets??? when a content creator that you love can see your fanart and has actually seen it.. all humans want is validation. Social media prys on that toxic need. On that innate human need. Cause yeah, we all want to know that what we're doing looks good, but holy shit was that place bad.

And I KNOW I'm not the first person to say this. I'm just trying to share my experience and I'm putting all this disclaimer here in case... So please just check yourself and remember we're all human. Social media is kinda awful and this is literally just my blog to share long thoughts and archive who I am. My time on social media fucked me up a little and I'm just now realizing it. That's what all this is.

So yeah all this to say, I'm done posting my art on social media for now. I'm done pumping out art just for the sake of it. When I create something worth sharing, I'll post it. But for now, I'll be in my comfortable void. I'm around and always willing to chat about the art making process or just chat in general. I'm creating. I always have been. I'm just not sharing it. It's not for your eyes.

It will be when im ready.

And new artists, young artists, any artists; your worth is not determined by the views or likes a post gets. Your art is worth more than any amount of attention it gets on social media. Don't create for attention. Create because you enjoy it. Create for yourself. That's where the magic happens.

thanks for reading. sorry this is long. I'm very wordy. thanks for being here.

- Comic

[de1-os]

i'll bite, whats the story about why you turned down those coms?

okay I wroite a whole response and everything but then my pc refused to connect to my router so I ahve to rewrite. all of it so I'm gonna try a keep it as thorough but short as possible

The 2nd one was requested a couple years ago (sweating nervously I wonder if it's been too recent to talk about it) but yeah this is when i did paypal only commissions on my old acc. The request was for me to draw a. Ok I don't know the semantics of the character's race but he's White and From Japan (like, the setting of the story, he was born and raised in Japan iirc).

^ this guy. he also has a wolf form with the same color scheme

and the requester asked me to draw his wolf form as a "Djinn" (shirtless, magic lamp, turban and all). Which. I was not comfortable with! And I was like "idk dude I don't think I draw something like that esp. because I don't. Know anything about Djinn." and they insisted and explained to me what a Djinn was and gave me examples of what they wanted, and tbh I don't remember if I was like "Seriously. No." or if I stopped responding entirely but they never contacted me again.

I looked up the person's url during this whole interaction and apparently they've publicly requested (and I assume commissioned) other artists to draw various other anime characters as "djinn" (which. the most distinct one I remember was Mt. Lady from BnHA.) and Only That. And it's just. it's feels at best cultural appropriation and at worst race fetishization (maybe not the precise phrases that describes what I mean, but if it gets the point across....) to me.

-----------

The 1st commission I've ever rejected (and mind you the 1st one I got ever), I got back in late 2016. Despite having a tumblr at the time I only really posted my art on DeviantArt (and Google+ but I digress). I decided to open commissions after an internet friend of mine explained to me how it works (and the prices were horrendously low, like maximum $10 low, but I was like 12-13 years old) and I mostly did requests anyways.

Anyways this guy (and I still have the screenshots I sent my friends at the time, referring to them for accuracy) sends me a really polite message (like. waaay overly formal) asking me to draw Kumatetsu from The Boy and The Beast but "shrunk" and him going about his daily life in his shrunken form in oversized clothes. But like. this guy was really insistent about the specifics of how this character looked when "dwarfed". and was like "I Will Negotiate to get this art" (paraphrasing) and also asked for a comic about How this character was shrunk "if I wanted to" (paraphrasing). Which. 13 year old me had no idea how to take this??

I checked out his account and found a lot of art (reuploads of art he requested/commissioned I believe). And like, at the time I had no idea what it was but it was fetish art. A whole bunch of it. Baby/diaper stuff, shrunken characters, inflation??, uhm. Large. Feet? etc. of. children's show characters.

Which, t. to each their own abt their fetishes/paraphilias/fixations and what they post in their personal online spaces (the block button is free) but the actual issue in this situation was that this was an Adult Man (30s at the time, I believe) asking a 13 year old to draw fetish art for him, and even insisted that he would do Anything to negotiate getting that art. While it wasn't sexually explicit, that's like. really fucked up!!! I even actually drew out part of the commission before deciding to just not accept any money for it because it felt too weird and gross to me.

While this was like 7 years ago I still wouldn't accept the commission if I got it now. If you're going to commission fetish art from someone commission an artist who also has that fetish and isn't a minor.

Anyways that's the only 2 times I've every rejected someone's commission before.

[ardathksheyna]

When You Realize that You Fucked Up

Found this old Livejournal entry from around ten years ago. The day I decided to "put my childhood to rest."

Me to my past self: No... no Jess. You did not make the right decision.

---

and I have a life beyond Twitter. Shocking, I know.

Anyway, today I had to do something that was almost painful. I laid a part of my childhood to rest. I decided that I didn't want to do a web-comic anymore. Yeah, it's official. Silent Shadow is officially dead. I've struggled with the web-comic — well, more like the inspiration to work on it — since the last year of school. At the time, I thought maybe that it was just school getting in the way and that once I graduated and got a job, that would change. However, I was wrong. A lot of has to do with me not being the same person that I was when I launched the comic. I thought I could go back to being that person, but in reality, I can't. I think it's a re-affirmation of an observation I made in last year's year-end post. I haven't thought about Silent Shadow since that post, until last night when I was thinking about what I really wanted to do with my life. It's not surprising that I'm doing a lot of this soul-searching now. I'm about to turn 35 in few weeks. I'm another five years from being 40, which is pretty scary to contemplate in and of itself.

So, with that, I think I made the right decision with ending Silent Shadow. In the greater scheme of things, I'm seeing that I made the right decision by not setting any New Year's resolutions for 2013

—From Livejournal: "Life update: I'm alive..." on March 10th, 2013

---

Since I've been actively working on the comic, I've been wondering why I stopped in the first place. When I found that old Livejournal entry, it suddenly became clear.

Looking back with what I know now, I realized that I was in the midst of an identity crisis. Reading that old journal entry actually hurt me. Stopping like I did was a big mistake. This wasn't that long after I graduated—maybe less than three years. I tried to do a relaunch with older material the year before this post was made but between the job and helping out my boyfriend, I didn't have any time for myself. The sad part is when I did have time for myself, I spent it all coding, which I now realize likely contributed to me getting burned out.

By the end of 2015, I think I realized that I had made a mistake with ending the comic. That's when I started re-writing Hawk & Wolf, turning it into a short-story. Sometimes, it just takes a minute before you find yourself again. It took me eight years, but I think I'm finally back to where I was originally twenty years ago—just older, wiser, and more broken.

So basically, don't give up on your dreams. Keep pushing forward—even if no one else sees your work, remember this: you're not doing this for someone else. You're doing this for yourself, not for anyone else.

[fill-me-with-your-memes-daddy]

Watching the Rise of the Titans movie and I'll be documenting all of my thoughts/reactions here. [Spoiler Warning]

So instead of reblogging every new update, I'm just going to have this post up on my phone as I watch and type my reactions in a bullet list format.

Nari's human disguise is so cute. As someone who does have a cottagecore aesthetic, I want to cosplay her so bad

Are Skrael and/or Belroc non-binary coded? Regardless, I'm also obsessed and I want to fuck Skrael and be Belroc.

STEVE CARING ABOUT JIM BEING HURT YESSSS!!! My god his redemption has probably been one of the greatest there is because he doesn't just suddenly go from being a bully to a completely good person. You can see the gradual shift in learning better throughout the shows which is awesome.

IN NEW YOOOOOOORRRRRRRK!!!!!! CONCRETE JUNGLE WHERE DREAMS ARE MADE OFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!

The mugshot montage reminded me of season 1 of trollhunters when toby and Jim were arrested at the museum.

STRICKLER PUT A RING ON IT??? HE'S THE ONLY DILF IVE EVER ACTUALLY AGREED WAS HOT WYM I CAN'T HAVE HIM??? well I'm still really happy about his arc over the series probably one of my favorite character growths.

Eli my guy got his growth spurt!!! As an 18 year old who is still 5'0", I'm happy but envious for him

So I went into this movie without watching any trailers or promo, but I doubt anything could have prepared me for the existence of mpreg. In fact, I wasn't going to document my reactions until I saw that.

NAMURA!!!!!!!!! MY BELOVED!!!!!! I CAN STILL THIRST FOR YOU WITHOUT GUILT

The coach teacher just called the kids zoomers so I have to dock one point from my final rating just because of that. Unforgivable

Those husky animation models suck lmao

Oh fuck the titans got power ranger zords!!

God why did they include the mpreg??? This movie would have been perfect without it.... After that plot point being revisited only one time I'm already beyond done with it

Like it's bringing me back to the v*ltron days where they're was a suspiciously high amount of klance omegaverse and mpreg fics and art created and it physically hurts because Steve and Keith's voice actor is the same person meaning this is especially cursed to me since I was unfortunately in the v*ltron fandom and remember all of that

But like on another note, how old are these characters again??? I haven't checked any wikis because of spoilers but is Steve an adult??? I know aja might be technically a lot older than 18 because alien but is whatever age she is equivalent to an adult as far as emotionally and physically in Akaridion development??? IS THIS A TEEN (M)PREGNANCY IN A KIDS SHOW????

Like bruh I saw a singular post on here before going into the movie that was like "rott spoilers without context" and there was a pregnant belly but I was absolutely not expecting the actual context of it. I'll find the post after I finish and edit this post to tag the creator right here: @makoden

This entire post is just gonna be me ranting about mpreg huh

Anyway I love the whole roundtable allusion to the legends of king arthur (not the toa version but the one he's based off)

THERE'S 3 TO 5 BABIES????? I need to take a break bruh this is just too much

Alright I've taken a 30 minute break got some food and did some things i love (decompressed by tactile stimming with some owl plushies and watched some videos on my favorite owl, Garu. He lives in Japan with his owner and is a domesticated eagle owl who basically just acts like a sky cat. If anyone else needs some eye bleach, here is their YouTube channel)

Blinky and ARRRGHHH!!! saying their "if one of us doesn't make it" talk my god one of them is going to die I can see it and I will be utterly crushed. Jim can't lose another father figure and Toby can't lose his wingman again I will riot if this happens

On a similar but unrelated to the movie note, can we just talk about how toa started with Jim having 0 dads and (if strickler and blinky live to the end) will end with 2 dads? Like I just really feel happy for him that he has two dads who actually figured out how to put the past behind them to not have any infighting between them so that both of them are healthy father figures. Jim has already been through literal hell and back losing his actual humanity in the process so if he loses one of them, I'm going to be really pissed because at this point, this is just Jim torture porn. Y'all know how as SpongeBob SquarePants went on, the show just became Squidward torture porn? It's starting to feel that way for toa and I really hope they cut the shit by the ending

Jlaire is such a good ship but like I feel like it's too perfect they never disagree with each other

YESSSSSSS Someone finally doesn't treat toby like a fat waste of space who messes stuff up!!! I think out of all the characters that would have been most deserving of a rewrite, it's Toby. Sometimes I just feel he's only comic relief and any heartfelt moments he's had in the series was also born of stupidity (ie his flour baby project being unharmed was seen by him as divine intervention from his parents but was actually just Eli and Steve behind the scenes).

Ohhhhh yesssssss Archie's father!!! I was hoping I'd see him again because we got so little of him last

Ooooooooooh Asian trollmarket!!!!!

Oh never mind slavery trollmarket

Bruh titanic camelot

I feel like we're not seeing enough of the villains because I completely forgot about the power ranger zord things

NAMORA NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MY LAST CRUSHHHH

STRICKLER NO NOT YOU TOO PLEASE

WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THE ONLY TWO CHARACTERS I SIMP FOR ON THIS SHOW DIED WITHIN FIVE MINUTES OF EACH OTHER

THAT WHOLE ASS RANT I WROTE IS COMING TRUE FUCK THIS MOVIE THIS SERIES IS JUST JIM TORTURE PORN

WAIT JIM'S SPERM DONOR INFO?

Oh thank God I don't want to know anything about that person

For the record, I call that man Jim's sperm donor because he has no business being called a father to him. All he did was donate some swimmers to the creation of him and give him abandonment issues

Oh another blind troll elder???? This fucker is just if vendel was a bad guy

Bruh I was grieving

PACIFIC RIM WITH GUN ROBOT VEX AND THE BELROCZORD? I've never seen that movie but I know the reference

Bruh Blinky doesn't read horoscopes? Does he realize conspiracy theories are just the manly version of horoscopes?

NO DON'T KILL VEX STOP KO-ING FOUND FAMILY MEMBERS

Oh thank God he's okay

NO NOT ARCHIE AND CHARLEMAGNE OH MY GOD

oh never mind they're just gonna coup de tat I believe in them :))

But I want to see him again

But I'm glad to see vex

Yay they're in arcadia!

But yeah I wondered why the trolls and Merlin didn't keep the whole "daylight doesn't hurt trolls" feature from the eternal night but now Guillermo del Toro I see you were playing the long con in that just to kill my girl Namora :(((

Oooooh I love the animation of the Narizord over Chihuahua!! It looks very good and realistic (if only they could have put some of that into those huskies from before smh)

Bruh the character designs of the arcane order are so good I want to be them

Nari making sure the Skraelzord doesn't crush the bus

DAMN DOUBLE HOMICIDE

Bruh I'm just glad we finally have an answer on why arcadia had everything going on as opposed to literally anywhere else!! I always found that as a weird coincidence for plot convince.

BRUH WERE BACK TO THE MPREG IM SO JEALOUS I FORGOT ABOUT THAT EVEN THOUGH IT WAS BECAUSE I WAS GRIEVING THE LOSS OF MY LOVELIES.

Oh that's real convenient that the ninth configuration meant all of them. Way to not decide which character gets more attention. Though it probably was a smart way to not have any infighting in the fandom between each character's stan group.

Bruh I just realized where is Barbera did they just ditch her on the Camelot ship???

And where are the other trolls that migrated at the end of trollhunters s3? They said something about new jersey but obviously Jim and the other main characters got on Camelot instead.... This feels like a plot hole

And we never learned the process of how changelings are made and bonded to humans and stuff. We just know it's super painful but I'm curious ffs!!!!

THE DONT THINK BECOME HERO SPEECH ALL SAID TOGETHER!!!

BRUH THEY REALLY HAD TO SHOW HIM GIVING BIRTH??????? WAS THAT AN ABSOLUTE MUST??????

Plus the main audience for this series is little children (the rating for the movie is literally TV-Y7) so even though my adult ass is not in the target audience, I STILL DONT UNDERSTAND WHY WOULD MPREG AND ANAL BIRTH WOULD BE AN IMPORTANT THING TO 7 YEAR OLDS???? THIS IS A LITERAL FETISH HIDDEN IN KIDS CONTENT ITS ELSAGATE ALL OVER AGAIN Y'ALL 😭😭😭😭😭

Though it's probably hypocritical of me to think fetishes don't belong in kids tv when I've openly admitted to thirsting for strickler and namora

HUZZAH

NEW AMULET WAZ GOOD????

STAB THAT BITCH JIM

WAIT NO I SAID STAB NOT GET STABBED

Alright good job just missed the directions at first but you fixed it

SEVEN KIDS?????????

T O B Y ????????????

W A I T NO

N O

IS HE ACTUALLY

OH MY GOD THERE'S HOPE

NO THERE ISN'T

F U C K THIS SHIT THEY REALLY JUST HAD HIM TO BE BULLIED THEN KILLED

Y'ALL IM ACTUALLY CRYING THIS NEVER HAPPENS

I NEVER ACTUALLY GET SO EMOTIONAL OVER MEDIA THAT I CRY IT ONLY HAPPENED ONCE AT THE END OF VOLTRON BUT AHHHHHHHH

W A I T

HE'S GONNA BE BROUGHT BACK?????

HOLD UP THEY'RE JUST GONNA BRING ALL THOSE DEAD PEOPLE BACK??????

WAIT IS HE

BLINKY CALLED HIM A SON

HOLD ON IS THIS GOING TO BE A CLIFFHANGER???????????

BRUH THEY REALLY JUST CAN'T END THE SERIES WITHOUT CLIFFHANGERS like there's always an open ending

TROLLHUNTER TOBY????? You know what forget the whole rants I had on how toby was written they just redeemed it all

And that's all! I'd rate it a 6.5/10 because it's definitely the weakest of all the sequels but still had amazing animation and some good plot points. It's just really hard to look over the bad stuff enough to rate it any higher.

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Persephone’s Symphony | Prologue | Hades

Hey lovelies— this will either be a long fic or a short series, depending on how it best plays out. I decided to upload a sneak peak— let me know what y’all think and do enjoy!!

Synopsis: In which he is the bad one— the dangerous one, the clunky one, the one who only knows how to break things— and she is the good one— the fragile one, the soft one, the one who knows how to put things back together— and he has to keep her alive long enough for anyone else— anyone who can do more than kill— to save her like she deserves to be saved— to save her from him. There are no pomegranates, no three headed dogs, and no requirement to stay— that is, if they don’t count an assassin on the loose out for her neck. In that case, three days in a safe house doesn’t feel like a long time— just long enough for Persephone and Hades to remember why opposites attract.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (third person)

Warnings: Mentions of death, at times semi-graphic, eventual smut

Word count: 2.5k (and counting)

Next

Master List

“Barnes, you’re on protection detail.”

He must be dreaming— he must have fallen asleep with the tv on again. That’s been happening a lot lately; he’s trying to catch up on normal life. On all the shows and movies and music he’s missed throughout the years. He’s trying to catch up. Or maybe he’s just trying to drown out the silence. It doesn’t matter why, to be honest, all that matters is that he is asleep and what he is hearing and seeing are the workings of a bad dream. There was a marathon last night. Yeah, there was. Movies— a few of them. Something about bodyguards. He’s just dreaming about the movies.

Right?

Wrong.

“You’re to make sure she is secured at all times during the next three days— do not leave Miss Y/l/n’s side under any circumstances. Understood?”

Bucky blinks twice, his brows creasing as he stares down his commander, a stubby, burly man with beady eyes. It’s a trial run— he can’t say no. He wants to, he just can’t afford to. Not if he wants a job. Still, he sees no reason for this to be on him. He’s a soldier— a good one. A dangerous one. Watching over little girls isn’t in his job description. He’s a fighter— a monster.

“I need an affirmative, Barnes.”

He bites back a scowl. He’s not trying to get demoted, he knows he’s on thin ice. But, like, isn’t there anyone else? Hell— Wilson is right next to him! Surely he’s better. He’s charming, at least. A flirt. He would be perfect! Wilson would keep her safe. So would he— maybe. Definitely from the threat. From himself, though— well, three days is a long time to avoid sleeping. Even for him.

“Barnes!”

Damnit.

“Understood, sir.”

Wilson’s amused chuckles sound from beside him, his hand landing like a ton of bricks on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky contemplates the repercussions of punching the smug bastard in the middle of a briefing. It can’t be more than a pay dock. He isn’t making that much anyway, it wouldn’t be a huge loss. It would be worth it to wipe that grin off his face. But, no, he can’t. He’ll have to do it later.

“Someone’s on babysitting duty.” Wilson snickers, pressing his fist to his mouth to hide his goading from the commander. “Remember Barnes; no candy after seven.”

“Shut up, Wilson.” He grunts back, just barely stopping his metal arm from flying out and smacking him— from squashing him like the bug he is.

“Think she has a bedtime?”

“Think you could shut up?”

Wilson flexes his fingers, holding them up slightly. Just enough as to not get caught ignoring the briefing but also enough to make sure Bucky notices. “Woah—” he says under his breath, that stupid smirk still heavy in his tone— “someone’s touchy today.”

“It’s a bad decision and you know it.” He says it simply— gruffly— it is the truth after all. He’s dangerous.

Wilson’s face softens, the glee filtering from his tone. “You’ll be fine, Buck.”

Bucky doesn’t answer, he just clenches his jaw. He doesn’t want to have another conversation about this. You’re a good person. You didn’t mean to do it. It’s not your fault. It might not be his fault but he still did it. He still feels it. That makes him bad— if not morally than at least physically. He’s a liability.

“Y/n Y/l/n—” Bucky focuses back on the commander; he may as well learn what he needs to do— “the twenty-five year old heir to the biggest communications technology manufacturing companies in the world. They do dealings with a range of chief institutions including our own White House—”

If Bucky’s teeth weren’t pressed together hard enough to make him wonder if they’re going to disintegrate, then his jaw would be on the floor right now. She’s the what? Did he just say twenty-five? He can’t even remember what he was doing at twenty-five— whatever he was doing it certainly wasn’t that. Granted, he probably doesn’t really want to remember what he was doing. Soldier things. Dangerous things. He shakes his head, huffing out a breath of air.

“Her immediate family have all turned up dead within the last six months—”

Bucky flinches— this time his jaw does drop.

“Holy shit.” Wilson mutters from next to him— Bucky can only nod. No more jokes about babysitting then.

Some pictures appear on the screen behind the commander, each one more gruesome than the last. It is nothing overtly sinister— nothing he hasn’t seen before— nothing worse than anything he’s seen before. Or worse than what he, himself, has done. He shivers, staring at the photos. Two men and a woman, each with a scarlet circle blown through their foreheads. What the fuck.

“Other executives have been found dead as well—” more pictures, more bullet holes— “She is the last one. We don’t know who or why— our mission is to find out, execute, and above all keep Miss Y/l/n alive—”

The pictures change, finally showing the woman who is to be in the soldier’s care, and his heart stops. Not for any normal reason, though— not because of how obscenely beautiful she is or because of the way her eyes pierce through the junky projector as though she were actually in the room with him. Not because of how soft she looks or how he can see the pink sheen of her lip gloss or the way those glossy lips are curved into an open mouth smile— like the picture had been taken mid laugh. No. His heart stops because of how god damn fragile she looks.

In the picture she seems to be at a University with some friends of hers. They’re backed against a brick facade, shoulder to shoulder like some sort of preppy mugshot. It’s probably supposed to be comical— Wilson lets out a hmph next to him, clearly seeing it as well— but Bucky can’t find it in himself to laugh. Not given the circumstances. Regardless though the picture gives him the information he needs to know; that she is a head shorter than the males in the picture. That seems normal— a head isn’t much in the scheme of things. The size difference is nothing.

Nothing unless, of course, you’re a giant super soldier whose genetically modified to be larger, stronger, and faster than the average man. Deadlier than the average man. He won’t be just a head taller than her— he’ll be at least two. Maybe more. And that’s just the height— he doesn’t even want to think about the rest. He is going to be stuck for three days, in what will most likely be a cramped safe house, with a girl who he could potentially break by bumping into her too hard. He can see it now: he takes the corner too fast and the next thing he knows she’s sprawled at his feet, her limbs bent at grotesque angles and her glossy lips flattened. All because he didn’t think to check.

This is going to be a long three days.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As it turns out, there are no safe houses— not legitimate ones at least. What there is, however, is the Wilson’s old family home in Delacroix, Louisiana— a semi falling apart, two-story build with robin's egg blue, fading paint. It is nestled deep into the bayou, hidden meticulously between towering trees. It is miles from any main roads and on the bank of a mostly dead river. Foot traffic is scarce and boats rarely pass on sunny days, let alone during the rainy season— the season it just so happens to be. Perfect.

Well, the location is perfect. The rest is a god damn shit show.

“You ready?” Sam doesn’t look at him— he knows better than that, opting instead to continue staring out at the bayou from behind the wheel.

Bucky, hunched over in the passenger seat, eyes also locked on the blue home, shrugs his shoulders. “Don’t really have a choice, do I?”

Sam sighs and Bucky tries not to tense at the sound. Please, not another lecture— not right now. He tries to ignore the man, gaze pouring over what he assumes is supposed to be a charming porch. Under a dim but sturdy awning there waits a white swing with a long bench seat and some floral pillows. Across from it are two rocking chairs swaying softly in the Louisiana breeze. One has a matching blanket draped over the back. It is supposed to look cozy— he knows it’s supposed to and he is sure to everyone but him that it is cozy. To him, though, it looks like everything he doesn’t have. Like warmth and sunny days and peace. Things he wants and things that make his skin crawl because of how foreign they are to him.

“You’re not going to hurt her.” Sam taps his hand on the wheel, sounding out a pattern that plays more like bullets ricocheting through the cab of the truck than whatever melody it actually is.

Bucky grinds his teeth together. Now he’s looking at the window beside the porch. Is it a kitchen? A mudroom? A den? He isn’t sure, there’s a white curtain pulled across the frame, blocking his vision from whatever waits for him on the inside. Blocking his vision from her. For a moment he thinks he sees the curtain move— a shadow of a hand passing along the edge. He turns away— he doesn’t want to scare her if she’s trying to size him up before they meet. It’s the least he can do. God only knows how terrified she already is.

His stare lands on Sam— an invitation for the soldier to finally look away from the bayou. “But I could, right? That’s what matters here— I could hurt her.”

“No, Buck, you couldn’t— you wouldn’t. You aren’t evil or whatever it is you think you are.” Sam raises a brow and Bucky scowls— it always feels like he’s in his head.

Of course he would never tell Sam Wilson that— like a dog left to fend for himself, he would rather fight.

“Don’t pretend like you have any idea what I think.” He can’t find it in himself to feel guilty for snapping— isn’t that what wild animals do?

Ever the patient animal rescuer, Sam rolls his eyes at the bite. “You’re a good man, Barnes.”

Bucky stares back for a minute, not sure how to even broach an answer, before breaking, snapping his gaze back to the inviting home— his kennel for the next three days. He clenches his jaw, trying not to slam his head against the dashboard for being an idiot. Even Bucky understands that it’s bad when he breaks the stare first— he’s been told before that he has a staring problem. He just doesn’t want to look Wilson in his eyes and explain to him exactly why he’s wrong. Maybe it’s just easier to let him think what he wants.

“Whatever.”

Maybe he wants just one person to truly believe that he isn’t the bad guy— even if he doesn’t believe it himself.

“I thought old people were supposed to be mature.”

Bucky flashes him a forced grin, one that tastes like the three hours of sleep he got last night and the five hours of self-loathing, shoving open his door and following it with his foot. “That’s me— the mature one.”

Sam barks out a laugh; either Bucky’s grimace— grin— worked or Sam is choosing to ignore it. “You’re old, not mature— there’s a difference, pal.”

“Hmph.” Bucky jumps out of the truck, yanking the duffle bag over his shoulder as his boots sink into the spongy grass.

His skin dampens immediately, a combination of the marshy climate and the grey clouds hanging above his head. A few droplets fall against his face and he slings a hand over his brows, turning towards his fate for the next three days. Without the barrier of the truck between him and the house, he almost feels like a normal man again. The weak, destructible kind. Theoretically, if the house were to fall on top of him right now he would survive. He would be pinned under the rubble, yes, but alive. It just doesn’t feel like it— it feels like he would be crushed. It makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end— his hackles rising as he tries not to bare his teeth— or fangs— at this new kind of threat. If only people could see him now; The White Wolf afraid of a charming, bayou home.

What a joke.

He shakes his head, pushing the passenger door shut with a sharp clang. Of course he isn’t afraid of a house— then he really would be an idiot. No, he is afraid of something else entirely— something much more sinister. Bucky is afraid of suburbia; of normalcy. What, with a metal arm and a brain hardwired to kill— it only makes sense he would also be programmed to steer clear of anything half-way decent. Especially pretty, fragile girls with glossy lips. Fuck. He squeezes his eyes closed, his vibranium fingers clenching around the strap of his bag. What is he even doing here?

A familiar, mechanical buzz fills the air and he cracks an eye back open in time to see Wilson leaning his head out of the passenger window. “Look, man— it’s three days. The fridge is full, the wifi is on, and it’ll rain so much she’ll probably nap the entire time. Pretend you’re at home doing whatever it is you would normally do. You’ll be fine.”

Bucky nods, sticking to his guns and letting the soldier believe what he wants. He tells himself again that it is because it is easier that way. “I gotta go, Wilson.”

With that he pushes his way to the door. His feet sink further into the grass with every step, curling around his ankles as though trying to warn him against entering the house— or trying to save the poor girl inside. He can’t decide. Warning or trap. Both. A warning for her— the princess; the little girl in the forest— and a trap for him— the rabid wolf. He steps onto the porch, his boots echoing off the concrete. To him it’s booming. He doesn’t want to think about what it must sound like to her, especially with everything the commander said she’s been through. A giant coming to kill her is his guess. Movement to the left catches his eye, the curtains shifting again, and his neck flushes.

“Hey Buck?”

He sighs— again— and turns over his shoulder for what he hopes is the last time— he just wants to get this over with. “What, Wilson?”

He knows before the man speaks that the cheshire grin on his face can mean nothing good— still he waits for the answer.

“Remember to tiptoe.”

[alfredolover119]

I looooove your zukka rec lists! I recently became Avatar-obsessed, never got a chance to watch it as a kid and only just got through it all! I was wondering if you'd consider doing a specifically angst rec list? I love fluffy zukka everything, but sometimes you just gotta have your heart ripped out of your chest and put back in after being thoroughly blended.

thank you! i relate heavily to “recently became Avatar-obsessed” haha. as for the angst list, i sure can try! warning: all of these have happy endings because im a crybaby who can’t read unhappy endings. also, p much all of the fics in the completed section were featured on my other lists but this is specifically the ANGSTY ones >:^)

angsty zukka wips

first, most obviously, feels like we only go backwards by @oldpotatoe

-currently at 102k with 19/27 chapters posted; rated teen

-the amnesia fic. the amnesia fic. the amnesia fic. you know. i haven’t actually read it yet because, as previously mentioned, i’m a crybaby and am waiting for it to finish up but, from my understanding, this fic will murder you in a dark alleyway with no remorse. if u like zukka angst, you’ve probably already read this, but just in case!

An injury leaves Sokka with amnesia. His last memory is of the failed invasion, of leaving his father behind in enemy territory on the Day of Black Sun. Of hopelessness. Rage. // But then he wakes up, and the war is over. Suddenly, he must come to terms with the fact that years have passed, and that he's somehow the Southern Water Tribe Ambassador to the Fire Nation. He is also supposedly friends with banished-Prince-turned-Fire-Lord Zuko, of all people. Close friends.

Yeah, nah.

and i’ll do anything you say (if you say it with your hands) by @goldrushzukka

-currently 38k with 6/8 chapters posted; rated mature

-holy shit. holy SHIT. modern au based on the “my cat likes my fuckbuddy and i am falling in love” trope(?). maybe it’s just because of how the last chapter ended, but oh my god. this one made me cry. made me want to commit violence. when it’s not angsty as hell, it’s pretty funny, but holy shit. ao3 user nebulastucky please.

It’s supposed to be a one night stand. Pick up some guy at a bar, barely remember his name and never learn anything real about him, send him packing in the morning with a thanks for the ride and a cup of coffee to-go. That’s how it’s supposed to go. // But then it’s the best sex Sokka has ever had, and he thinks he’ll hate himself if he never gets to have it again.

Violet Blossoms and Celestial Objects by @hollypunkers

-currently 15k with 2/? posted. rated teen.

-this is the sequel to blue (an angsty, zukka rewrite of book 2-- go read it if u havent!)! !! this is a book 3 rewrite. only two chapters in and mrs hollypunkers is really abusing the miscommunication tag, as zukka writers seem to enjoy doing. im excited to see how the world and story develops with the changes to the story! you should be too!! its very good! obviously spoilers for blue lmao

Having sided with the Avatar in Ba Sing Se, Zuko not only must navigate his new relationship with Sokka but returning to the Fire Nation as a banished enemy. His own journey of self discovery and personal growth must now coexist alongside the personal struggles of every other member of the Gaang as together they blaze a treacherous path toward an unsure victory against Zuko's own father and nation.

breakable heaven by @fruitysokka

-currently 71k with 9/11 chapters posted. rated teen

-swt ambassador zuko! soon to be chief sokka! fake dating ur best friend to get out of an arranged marriage! what could go wrong!!! i also haven’t read this one ((see: i’m a crybaby who is being hurt by too many zukka wips already)), but it has been hanging out in my marked for later for months. from what i understand, this fic has: angst.

With his twenty-first birthday looming just around the corner, the Southern Water Tribe Elders have decided that Sokka, next in line to be Chief, needs to get married. Sokka does not want that, but he does need to get them off his back until he can figure his way out of it. What better way to do that than to pretend to date his best friend (and newly minted Ambassador to the Southern Water Tribe) Zuko? // Seriously, this is a foolproof plan. Maybe one of Sokka's best. Absolutely nothing can go wrong.

angsty zukka fics (completed!)

(i’ll put these in wc order)

lighthouse beam by @incorrectzukka

-7k, rated g

-a modern college au!! zuko’s inner-monologue is very angsty in this fic. typical zuko. also per usual, theyre both fucking dorks. they sort themselves out in the end, but not before The Angst. zuko is semi-deaf in this fic and also he has a bit of internalized homophobia.

Sokka’s breathtakingly beautiful and he’s smart and makes other people laugh. Zuko has a half-burnt face and a deaf ear. It’s not rocket science. // Or, Zuko falls in love with the boy in his Philosophy class.

This Isn’t My Idea of Fun by @khaleeseas

-9k, explicit

-moon spirit/nwt prince!sokka, no war to be found here! admittedly this isnt THAT angsty but like. the angst IS present. zuko is still the prince. a lovely childhood friends (though they hated each other for a minute haha) to lovers story. 

If you asked Zuko, he and Azula saw far too much of Chief Hakoda of the Northern Water Tribe’s children growing up. It wasn’t until they were older, and Azula pointed out that - duh - their families were trying to set them all up, that he realized why. // He was told by his mother to be polite. These people were their friends and allies, and though their nations were as different as they came, harmony between nations was the most important thing. // It wasn’t his fault the Chief’s children were so annoying.

put your lips close to mine (as long as they don’t touch) by @celestialceci

-9k, teen

-modern au! zuko and sokka are college roommates. zuko goes to spend the summer with sokka. again,, not really that angsty but-- its there!! the detail and feeling of Home in this story make me happy. zuko is insecure as hell here too. if ur into that. 

Zuko hates his home. He likes college alright, but he likes Sokka even better, his assigned roommate turned best friend. Spending the summer with Sokka will be fun, a welcome change of pace he desperately wants. It probably won't awaken anything in him... right?

the thing about dancing by anodymalion

-9k, teen

-yes. this one right here officer. it makes my heart ache. also trans sokka! which is cool. but the zuko angst in this one. hurts me. not so much relationship angst as it is zuko learning he deserves happiness angst. i’m sure u know The Type.

The first time a attendant spills Zuko’s tea and doesn’t immediately fall to her knees, begging the Fire Lord’s forgiveness, it is not anger but a resounding warmth that fills his chest.

i could (never) give you peace by @zukkababey

-10k, mature

-OUCH. OUCH OUCH OUCH. boys please learn to communicate im begging u. also zuko.. zuko, dude. as the tags of the fic say, hes “really going through it” in this one. YOUCH. post-canon.

Zuko almost said it. He almost said the words I think I’m in love with you, but he choked them back down at the last second. // Zuko would never be able to be what Sokka wanted. They might have needed each other during the summer, when two boys with too much weight on their shoulders found comfort in each other in the only way they knew how. // But now Zuko was Fire Lord, and Sokka was leaving.

this love burns so yellow (becoming orange and in its time, exploding) by @meliebee 

-18k, teen, major character death 

-i lied. THIS is the one, officer. found family.. good mai and zuko and toph friendships.. . ozai escapes prison and tries to overthrow zuko. OBVIOUSLY angst ensues. poor boy. he Does heal in this but it gets worse before it gets better. angst angst angst angst.

Ten months after Zuko is crowned at seventeen, he faces his first coup.

Anything for You by beersforqueers

-23k, explicit

-istg. this is probably one of my favorite zukka fics. its PAINFUL. modern au where theyre broken up but sokka hasnt told his family yet so zuko goes home with him for kataang wedding. a bit smutty, but the plot oh my god ohgm y fuvk. made me cry the first time i read it. (see: crybaby!me) insert that one picture of the horse with the caption PAIN. 

In which Sokka and Zuko have broken up but Sokka hasn't told his family yet. So when Katara and Aang's wedding weekend rolls around and he doesn't want to break Gran-Gran's heart, he asks Zuko to pretend to be his boyfriend for one last weekend. // Things don't go as planned.

Moving Mountains by @thefangirlingdead

-64k, mature

-so. when i read this the first time it was in one sitting. soulmate au set within canon era / the comics, to an extent. soulmates can hear each others thoughts. i will happily say this is slowburn, jesus christ. champagne without the cham. 

Soulmates are chosen by the spirits and can hear each other’s thoughts. Sokka thinks it’s cheesy and dumb. Zuko thinks it’s poetic justice that he doesn’t have one because he doesn’t deserve it. Cruel irony is finding out that the prince of the Fire Nation (and the person currently hunting you) is your soulmate.

In the Soft Light by @voidcenturyscholar and @romancedawning

-83k, teen, graphic depictions of violence

-moon spirit!sokka living in the northern water tribe. zuko is sent to the northern water tribe as a cultural liaison. iroh is the fire lord but while he is away taking care of lu ten after his injury ozai steps up. i cannot express how many emotions this fic made me feel. background yuetara. i would almost say found family?? but. anyway. plenty of angst to spare here with a healthy dose of enemies to friends to lovers.

As the newly appointed cultural liaison to Northern Water Tribe, Zuko is the first Fire Nation Citizen to step foot inside the city's walls in nearly a century. He's determined to prove himself—to the Fire Lord and to his father—even if the Water Tribe's spirit-touched prince seems to want nothing to do with him.

That Midnight Sky by @zukkababey

-103k, teen

-now now now. tms... modern college au where sokka agrees to tutor zuko in physics because zuko has to maintain straight a’s and physics is just not doing it for him. so. thats cool but THEN azula moves in, randomly, with zuko. to hide the fact that sokka is tutoring zuko, they fake date! what could go wrong!! the mutual pining in here combined with the angst... wonderful, tasty. everyone read it rn. also SLOWBURN 

In Zuko’s strict family, needing a tutor is just about the worst thing you could do. Failing a class, however, is even worse. The only rational solution? Take up Aang on his offer to find him a physics tutor and have Sokka—beautiful, smart, handsome Sokka—tutor him in secret. // When Azula’s arrival threatens to reveal Zuko’s secret, it’s up to Sokka to convince her this definitely isn’t what it looks like. See, he’s actually… Zuko’s… boyfriend? // Hmm. There’s no way this could get complicated, right?

[scapegoatperry]

Welcome to Haddonfield

Chapter 2: Tiffany and Jason (slasher coffee shop au)

A/N: This chapter is probably shorter, but I wanted to show a little more of Tiff and Jason’s dynamic with the reader (maybe tiff more so than jase but don't worry we'll see more of him!). So, sorry no Mikey in here ://. But he'll be there in the next chapter that should be out tomorrow since I'm almost done with it. This chapter gives a little more insight on the reader’s outlook on romantic relationships. Which, yes the reader has gone through some traumatizing things both while growing up and during their young adult years. But I want you all to know they have and are going to therapy and somewhere in the future it will be mentioned that they take medication for their mental illnesses. Also I personally hc Tiffany as half chinese, since Jennifer Tilly is and I dunno, I just thought it’d be cool to add that. Friendly reminder I also hc Tiffany is a demiwoman who uses she/they pronouns, while Jason is a demiman who uses he/him pronouns (and he doesn't wear a mask but still has his deformity, he's just more confident in here). Pumpkin is afab while using they/them pronouns, again they are indifferent about gender. Pumpkin is also short. How short is really up to y’all. Anyway enjoy!

Characters in the chapter: Tiffany Valentine, Jason Voorhees, and Pumpkin (aka the reader)

WARNINGS: Cursing, perverted jokes from Tiff and the reader, a small panic attack of some sorts from the reader, and mentions of toxic/abusive relationships (not necessarily just romantic relationships). Maybe some bad grammar and spelling.

“Sooo, how was your first day at work, sugar?” Tiffany asked once she got settled on the couch, wrapping an arm around you. Jason was still at work for thirty five minutes and had let you and the blonde demiwoman know to go ahead and start Kitchen Nightmares without him. You shifted a bit looking up at your best friend, answering their question

“It was great, actually. I only messed up on two orders,” Tiff gave you a big smile, letting you know she was proud of you, before continuing, “But, uh, it was a little strange this morning. You remember Angel right? The girl with curly blonde hair? The one who picked me up on my first day of training?”

“Yeah! I remember that cutie. She giving you trouble all of a sudden?” They tipped their head to the side, with a peculiar look on her face, no longer paying attention to the tv in front of the both of you. “Oh! No, no, no,” You shook your head comically fast. “Her older brother came in. And no he didn’t do anything to me either, didn’t even say anything actually. Well verbally anyway. But the way that he was acting, it’s like he was expecting me to run away screaming or some shit like that.”

You couldn’t help but find it odd. Was he usually standoffish with people? You couldn’t wrap your head around how Angel acted before and after the whole thing, seemingly shocked by how you both were with each other, whatever that really meant on Michael’s end. You found it hard to believe someone would treat the behemoth man any differently than any other customer just because he preferred Tommy making his scone and his sister making his coffee and because he used sign language over verbally speaking. It really couldn’t be because of how he looks, because nearly everyone who works there had a style similar to his, including yourself (though your style was all over the place, you didn’t always dress like that). While Tiffany was mulling over your words, you added, “I don’t know. Maybe some people are freaked out by his height, on top of looking like a scarier, younger version of Danny Carey? And he’s taller than Jase by a good, what? Four inches, I think?” That caught the demiwoman’s attention.

“He’s 6 fucking 9?!” She screeched, making you wince. You love Tiff but damn that hurt your ears. “Without the boots he was wearing? I’m assuming, yeah. I’m shocked his head didn’t hit any of the decorations in the damn place,” you couldn’t help but joke.

You remembered him ducking down when he left the cafe. It was ridiculously adorable. “Holy shit- isn’t Angel like, around your height? How the hell did their mother give birth to him?” Sometimes they didn’t have much of a filter, which was both a blessing and a curse. You just shrugged in return. How the hell were you supposed to know? You were majoring in women's, gender, and sexuality studies, not biology. Promptly, the blonde pulled away from you, turning her whole body towards you, making you do the same for her. “What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me,” The half-Chinese adult said, with a scoff. “You’re a kind person Pumpkin. After everything you’ve been through, you’ve still managed to retain your kindness to those that haven’t done you wrong. You’re probably the first colleague they’ve had in a long time that didn’t treat him like a freak.” Then she smiled slyly at you, carrying on, “And you’re a very attractive person. I mean, look at you, Pumpkin. You’re an absolute hottie. I saw what you were wearing before you left the house this morning. Probably made his heart beat a little faster that usual and made all that blood rush to his-”

“Mhmmm! Nope, no, not today satan, absolutely not today!” You shouted pulling yourself off the couch, walking away from her. “You’re done, you’re done-”

“I was kiddin’-”

“you can go on timeout. I’ll tell Jase you’re on timeout and we’ll watch Kitchen Nightmares without your perverted ass.” By the end of that, the both of you were laughing and headed to the kitchen since that’s where you started walking off too.

“So...What’s his name?” You groaned, Tiffany really wasn’t going to let up were they?

“I- girl, why do you care?”

“Because he’s the first person you seem to be interested in-”

“I am not interested in him like that. Anyway, Michael, doesn’t seem like he makes friends very easily, let alone finds it easy to find someone to date, so, you know,” you defended yourself against her teasing as you tossed your hands up in the air.

“Hmm, sounds like someone else I know. Except for the friend part, you’re really good at that.”

You gave the brown eyed beauty a weak glare. “Cute name though.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her changing the subject to his name. But she was right, it did suit him. Knowing the taller woman wouldn’t let it go until you at least gave some sort of description of the man you relented, letting yourself at least indulge a little bit, “He’s got really pretty blue eyes. Like an icy blue, I think? It was a little hard to tell with him having long hair. Super pretty too, like, I really didn’t expect him to be that pretty.” You paused a bit admitting, “Kind of a shame he’s Angel’s brother, otherwise, I might’ve climbed him like a tree-” Tiffany instantly started screeching at your light lewd comment, grabbing onto you while you started laughing. You didn’t really date people, but you were no nun. You’ve had plenty of experience in the bedroom.

During this time, Jason had come home, unexpectedly early, and walked into the kitchen after hearing Tiff’s screeches and your laughter. He stood in the arch way of the kitchen, with a confused look on his cute face. The blonde told him almost instantly, “They’ve got a crush on one of their co-worker's brother-”

“Shut up, I don’t! He’s just cute to look at. I would never do that to Angel, I work with her for fuck’s sake. I haven’t seriously dated someone in years, let alone had a real crush on anyone! You both know it’s hard for me to even like anyone romantically.” Now her teasing was a little too much for you. Maybe you were being too sensitive, but the thought of even jumping into a relationship was making your head spin and made your stomach drop in a not so fun way. Especially with someone you didn’t fucking know. The giant, yet gentle demiman walked over to you, and set his hands on your shoulders softly just to get your attention as well as grounding you, before signing, “It’s okay, you don’t have to date anyone if you don’t want to, Pumpkin.”

“He’s right, I’m sorry, sugar. I won’t do that again, okay? I went too far with that.” They both knew why you nearly had a breakdown at that. Sure, you preferred being close friends with someone before dating them, but your very first relationship (if you could even call it that) was what made it a mandatory to be friends with someone first. Not that you would ever change that. Being in therapy since you were twenty-one helped you understand that wasn’t a bad thing, not one bit. And you’ve stuck to it even when others, not the two that you live with, told you it was a phase. You let out a heavy sigh, “Sorry, god. You would think I wouldn’t freak out even after six years since that happened...”

“You don’t ever need to apologize for that, Pumpkin. I should’ve known better than to poke at you like that for that long. It doesn’t matter if it was that long ago or not, what you went through was bad. It should’ve never happened, but it did and you’re still here with us to this day and that’s what matters.”

Tiffany leaned down a bit and gave you a kiss on the forehead, just as your guys’ mutual best friend mumbled out, “I love you two.” Just lighten up the mood and brought you both into a big hug. Which made you groan because both of them were squeezing so tightly. “Y’all are gonna kill me,” you managed to get out. Thankfully they both showed mercy and let go, chuckling at your dramatic behavior.

“Alright, let’s leave the big guy to make dinner. After all, he promised to make us burritos tonight.”

You forgot about that. The bald demiman even made breakfast that morning before you all went to work and mentioned making burritos as a celebration for your first day of work. Your mind went blank as he began to shoo you and Tiffany out of the kitchen, making her giggle, calling out to Jason as they walked to the living room with you, “I think they forgot about dinner tonight!” You didn’t miss the grumbling from the colossal chef in the other room, but knew it was just him messing around. Jason wasn’t one to get angry or even annoyed easily. The demiman was all around laid back when you and Tiff weren’t causing chaos. A smile graced your mouth as you unpaused the tv, watching Kitchen Nightmares with your best friend while the other cooked dinner for the three of you. Yeah, you had it pretty good.

[darkverrmin]

Former Lovers

Geralt heard stories about Lambert's ex-lover, during the winter they spent together in Kaer Morhen a few years ago. It was a brief romance, that lasted a couple of months and Lambert wasn't eager to share the details. He just said that humans can be "fucking morons" sometimes and that the guy had the same temper he did.

"Someone with a temper like yours? Yikes. It was bound to collapse" Eskel joked on one occasion at the dinner table. Lambert glared at him and Geralt just ignored them and finished his dinner silently.

A couple of years a later Geralt met Jaskier. As strange as their relationship was at first, they became close friends. And soon enough, even more than that. Falling in love with Jaskier and having him close felt natural to Geralt. So when winter came around, Geralt invited him to spend the next three months in the Witchers' keep and Jaskier happily agreed.

They arrived at Kaer Morhen just before the first snowfall. Vesemir greeted them warmly and seemed to be impressed by Jaskier. Eskel and Cöen liked him immediately and Geralt started to think that this winter may turn out to be one of the pleasant ones he had in a long time.

That was until Lambert arrived the day after. His eyes widened comically when he first saw Jaskier. Geralt glanced at Jaskier, who had a faint blush on his cheeks. Confused, Geralt introduced them to each other.

"Jask, this is Lambert, my brother".

"Huh. I mean, pleasure". Jaskier shook his hand politely and Lambert nodded. He glanced at Geralt. "Cool. Uh, congratulations and all. See you at dinner" And almost ran all the way upstairs to his room.

"What was that about?" Geralt furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

Jaskier shrugged casually. "Dunno. You Witchers are hard to read".

***

After a week or so, everything seemed to be okay. Jaskier was getting along well with everyone, even with Lambert. The initial awkwardness between them seemed to vanish. Geralt still wondered what that was about. He found his answer on the second week.

They were sitting together in the yard and Jaskier was telling Eskel and Cöen about Oxenfurt. "The people may be a little pain-in-the-ass-royalty, but the place itself is amazing".

"I passed by Oxenfurt once. And you're a professor there?"

"Yeah, I teach classes occasionally. I have a few students that I'm quite proud of".

Lambert took a chug of his ale. "Hey, what happened to that student who was really talented, but left when his brother died? I remember you were worried about him".

Jaskier smiled at him brightly. "Oh, he came back eventually. I met him one day when I was traveling with Geralt and we had a good talk".

"Good".

Lambert turned his head and saw Geralt staring at him. "How do you know about his student?" Geralt asked, blinking.

Lambert averted his gaze to the ground. Geralt turned to look at Jaskier, who was looking away awkwardly. Even Eskel and Cöen seemed to be embarrassed.

"What the fuck is going on?"

Jaskier sighed. "Okay. Uh... Sorry we didn't tell you before. Um, Lambert and I actually know each other from before".

Geralt blinked. "From when?"

"A few years back" Lambert mumbled, still looking away.

Geralt visibly relaxed. "...Okay. Why didn't you say so? And I don't remember you telling me that you knew other Witchers, Jask. Although... I think you told me about sleeping with one, but I wasn't really listening at the time-" Geralt stops talking, his eyes widening. "Wait a minute".

"Shit" Lambert groaned quietly.

Geralt turned to face him. "You- You and Jaskier were together!? That's your human ex-lover??"

"Oh, you talked about me?" Jaskier blinked. "I wonder what he told you".

Geralt snapped at Jaskier, too. "Why didn't you say anything!?"

Jaskier raised his hands in the air. "Hey, I didn't know you were brothers! I didn't want to make things awkward. Besides, dear, it was a really long time ago. It's in the past. Lambert and I are cool now".

"Yeah" Lambert nodded, finally looking at Geralt. "No hard feelings. I'm happy for you guys".

Geralt hummed and glanced at Eskel and Cöen who could barely contain their laughter. Eskel dropped his hands from his mouth and spoke. "So why did you two break up?"

"You motherfucking-" Lambert started to growl at him, but Jaskier cut him off. "Actually, it's pretty damn hilarious. May I?" He looked at Lambert with a half-smile. Lambert rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively.

"We met while I was traveling south and got along pretty well with each other. But Lambert can be... Loud sometimes. And I don't tolerate someone yelling at me".

Geralt huffed in amusement, imagining Jaskier screaming back at Lambert when he was being a prick.

"Anywho, one day we got into a pretty big fight, so Mr. Witcher here thought it would be funny to flirt with my arch enemy, right in front of my face".

Geralt raised an eyebrow. "You flirted with Valdo Marx?"

Lambert growled. "Jaskier called me a dick with eyes!"

Everybody around him burst out in loud laughter. Lambert crossed his arms over his chest.

"And then what happened?" Cöen demanded.

"Well, I was pissed, so I left him a nasty poem in our room and took off with his horse".

Everybody was roaring with laughter now.

"It's not funny!" Lambert cried, although he was smiling, too. "It was a good horse".

Jaskier chuckled. "Sorry. I can pay you back".

"It's alright. I deserved it".

"Yeah, a little. Good thing it didn't last, we were a disaster".

Geralt rolled his eyes fondly and moved to sit beside Jaskier, wrapping an arm around his waist. "I could've lived without knowing that".

"Sorry, love" Jaskier smiled, kissing his cheek.

Eskel cleared his throat. "So... Tell us. Who's better in bed?"

All the eyes were on Jaskier now. The bard pressed his lips. "Seriously?"

"C'mon Eskel, it ain't even a fair competition" Lambert said smugly.

Geralt glared at him. "Shut the fuck up".

"Well?" Eskel asked again.

"Leave him alone" Geralt frowned.

"C'mon!" Eskel and Cöen cried together.

Jaskier rolled his eyes. "I'm having trouble deciding between both of your mothers".

Geralt buried his face in Jaskier's neck, laughing silently. Lambert was grinning. Eskel huffed and Cöen laughed, clapping Eskel on the back. "Fair enough. Anyway, what were you telling us there about Oxenfurt?"

***

A couple of hours later, Geralt had Jaskier pinned against the wall of their bedroom. He stopped kissing the bard's neck, lifting his head to look him in the eyes.

"It's me, isn't it?" Geralt whispered with a smug smile on his face.

Jaskier rolled his eyes, giggling and swatting at the Witcher's bare chest. "You big oaf. Are we having sex or a competition with your brother?"

"Hmm". Geralt slipped his hands under Jaskier's thighs, lifting him up in the air. "Not a competition. I know no one can make you feel the way I do".

Jaskir hummed happily, wrapping his arms around the Witcher's neck and kissing his lips. "That is true".

[herstarburststories]

He didn’t make it to 42

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: it’s Dean’s birthday, you go to visit him with some news and things that need to be said.

A/N: Happy bday, De.

Warnings: so much angst, mentions of sex, hopeful/happy ending (?)

Dean’s dead. It’s Dean’s birthday and he’s dead. You can’t argue much.

Sam denied the demon blood inside him, and that didn’t stop its evil nature from growing and gasping for his fresh air to the point he was almost shocked alive. Dean denied his dad’s destructive methods’ results for the longest time, and that didn’t stop the cicatrixes in every emotion he had ever shown. You denied the absence of Dean and that didn’t stop the bricks cracking in your soul. There’s only so far you can go with your eyes closed.

So here you are. Standing in front of an empty grave. You are bigger than the dull tombstone, yet you can’t help but not to feel tall, at all. How can you even start to talk? Talking to Dean used to be easy even when it got hard and now you’re feeling like a lost kid in a supermarket. Your snide thinking spells out his name with venom, saying it isn’t easy for you to open your barmy mouth and spill out contrarian shit because this isn’t Dean, just another meaningless symbolism that Sam promises that will help. The real Dean died almost a year ago, he was burned in a hunter’s funeral, the flames dancing over his body as the smell of burnt meat invaded your nostrils. Whenever you try to remember his fragrance, that manly aroma which you loved to scent each morning, all your brain can come up with is the odor of his skin and guts burning. The smell lingers like bad perfume, it doesn’t matter how many times you wash yourself with his soap-- that only broke your heart worse.

But today is Dean’s birthday. He deserves a visit, even if it’s not him. Then you go and attempt to deal with the desolation, push it away just a little, and pick up something from the enormous pile of things you wish to tell Dean. You glance at the cold tombstone: Dean Winchester. 1979 - 2020. Beloved son, big brother, and husband. Hunter. A hero. Simple definitions that can never make it up for who he was and what he meant. You purse your lips and cough a little, a gentle wind touches your cheek so tenderly. If you were still a believer, you’d think this is some sort of sign, Dean’s presence or some other pious hoax. All you do now is to remain in quietude, a deep breath. Ultimately, your voice comes:

‘’You didn’t make it to forty two, huh?’’ You scoff humorless, reminiscing to the multiple days that Dean said he wouldn’t go past 35. He did live each year like it was the last--- you aren’t sure if it's such a good thing. If you carry on like your days are outnumbered, you are silently entertaining yourself until death's knock on your door. ‘’I always hated when you were right. Let’s be honest, you had the words of a pessimist and the wants of an optimist. Still, if you were to be right about something, it would be about a bad situation. A nest with too many vampires, how crappy the motel’s bedroom would be, or how that third glass of wine would make me tipsy. So yeah, I always hated when you were right. And look at you now! You aren’t right, you aren’t wrong. You are dead! And I’m the crazy girl screaming at an empty tombstone.’’

You let out a laugh empty of joy. That’s how a hunter’s life is: you die and people stop talking about you because it’s too sad or too long gone to hold any pity, meanwhile the ones who recall about you go loud with all the spirits in their heads. You put your hand in the pockets of the heavy leather jacket that once belonged to a green eyed man who would be turning 42 today, some strange force causing you to speak again.

‘’Wow.’’ You shake your head to the blue way you paint the scene until you notice that you never greeted him. ‘’Hey.’’ The simple word adds a comical insult to injury. ‘’Guess the dead don’t care about manners, huh?’’ You arch your eyebrows with a grin that demonstrates anything but happiness. ‘’Miracle died. Sam digged a hole next to the bunker and buried him there. He isn’t the same since you died, you know? Not the deceased dog-- Well, he wasn’t the same either. Always whining and scratching your door like a fucking cat, and sniffing your old boots. He made me company in your bed and I whined as much as he did when you didn’t come back home that day. He stood by the door most days, waiting for you to appear. I can’t judge him, I did the same.’’ You shrug, not caring about how risible that confession may look. It's true. You became as irrational as a loyal dog at some point in this sorrow. ‘’And Sam, your baby brother… I think he died with you right there, Dean. He didn’t try to bring you back as he promised, but I shouted and screamed so much. I said I would burn the bunker and throw Baby over a cliff if he didn’t-- if he didn’t let me try. I lived up to the mad woman title.’’

You are crestfallen, pacing on top of where the eldest Winchester - Sam’s brand new nomination -  supposedly was buried. You know your boots barely touch an infected land, there's no deceased man under your steps. The dead thing is in you.

‘’I spent days dragging your body everywhere and nowhere, anywhere I could catch a crumb of relief in hope to bring you back. But I couldn’t. Jack could, but that ungrateful idiot doesn’t wanna follow his grandpa steps and get too attached to mere humans, the creation or whatever. As if we are just some skin and bone to him, as if you are just another human.’’

You sit down on the tombstone, some tender solace in being close to a thing that's supposed to represent him, like sleeping hugged to a pillow or waking up to a photograph of his. Your nails sink against the gelid concrete at the thought of screaming into the sky for the new God that seemed as deaf as the last one. His calm answer to your burning pain. How he dared to tell you he knew what he was doing— as if he was the original lord and not a three years old. You can't make him do it, so you hold on the fury of some overthrown nation.

‘’Anyway, I couldn’t bring you back. Your body, well, you know how human anatomy works. Your body started to smell like death. We tried to stop with human and magic ways, and it wouldn’t work because you were dead. You should’ve seen the doctor’s face when we got you in that fancy hospital tha night. I think we traumatized the doctor with so much violence and trauma. She didn’t even give us a false hope or anything, you know? She just asked about organ donation of what was left. She just wanted to take every little thing out of you, as if you were just another accident on a Tuesday night.’’ Your shake your head as the memories and your points start to mix, it's hard to discern things and keep a straight line when you have an open wound in your insides. ‘’Well, they couldn’t bring you back to life, and neither could Rowena or whatever I looked for. Don’t be mad because I tried, Winchester. You know I’m too stubborn for my own good. I had to try.’’ you refuse to apologize, yet adds the playful words in his eulogy. ‘’But then your body started to stink and God, how could I continue to be so violent to your corpse? That was when I decided to listen to you for the first time and to Sam, so I let you go. I hate you for asking that.’’ What an ambiguous, contradictory truth to bare. You are glimpses of a person for months because of Dean Winchester, still have the energy to argue his selfless logic, just to love him even more. He's got your devotion, but man you can hate him sometimes. ‘’I hate you for going on that stupid hunt. I hate you for being dead, you giant idiot that I love so much.’’ You can't bring your mouth to say loved. "I was always telling you to let the past go and now I’m in love with a dead thing. What a comic way to end our history. I told you that Miracle died, right? I don’t know if dogs go to heaven, but I hope he’s in there with you. I wonder what your heaven is like. I bet it has Whiskey.''

Your dry chuckle makes your notice the tears in your eyes, glistening your orbs as they go like a waterfall to be absorbed by the thirsty land after leaving your cheeks.

"Sam and I-- We tried to make some sense out of this cruelty, but we can’t. You are dead and I can’t seem to put it past me. I still sleep in your bed, and I can still taste your body burning on the roof of my mouth in the quiet nights. I cried this morning because someone asked for a burger, can you believe that? It was so stupid since I used to shake my head and argue with you about cholesterol. Suddenly I was crying at lunch in a restaurant because some stupid kid asked for a burger with extra bacon. They sang Happy birthday to this dumbass child, and I interrupted with my awful crying, and wished that you were celebrating your birthday and not that kid. I guess you could say I wish death upon an innocent child with a problematic eating routine.’’ That was a whole new level of low, as if you are the one wrapped with the sentiment of laying six feet under.

‘’Everyone tells you about how grief is singular and particular with similar emotions that bring people who went through this together. They even have that crap stages thing and all that. You know what they don’t tell you?’’ Your mouth shuts for a moment, like you are waiting some response. You nod as if whatever you were expecting is handed to you. ‘’Grief can be fucking ridiculous. Who cries because of a burger full of oil and cardiac diseases? Who cries because they found a grocery store recipe under her dead boyfriend’s bed? Who falls on the ground screaming in the middle of the mall because they saw a flannel? Who? Those things are so stupid.’’ You smile like there's no tomorrow and the laugh leaving your lips is a treacherous tone. Perhaps you just aren't build up to express joy anymore. ‘’You see it in the movies and in the books and you think, you know, you think to yourself that grieving is being sad on special dates and randomly remembering the loved ones because of some screaming memory, like a flannel or their perfume. Thing is, it’s not just that. All your body seems so small, so tight for all the ache and agony inside it. Your senses go wild, you are not just one person in one place. You’re just the pain everywhere, like being pulled apart and you beg to jump in the fucking grave with them. At least you would be together, at least you would feel like one person and not suffering edges of a broken earthy thing. And--And you start remembering things you didn’t even know you had mesmerized. I look at the ceiling and remember you saying you’d paint it someday. I look at the kitchen and remember me screaming at you for giving Miracle the rest of the food. I smell Sam’s clothes and started crying because hey, they don’t smell like alcohol. You don’t iron them while drinking anymore, so of course they don’t smell like cheap beer.’’ You are chuckling through the tears and it only makes it more monstrous. ‘’Everything is you now that you are gone. Every man has something similar to you, every garden is green as your eyes, and each step sounds like you are coming home. They didn’t prepare me, not for this.’’ You said breathless. A soft single follows. The knife cuts both ways; the empty breeze and the words hurt. Where's the middle term? Where's the limbo? Where's the only safe place for you to rest your weary head?

Out of nowhere, you blurt out, ‘’I can’t masturbate,’’ I know it’s something stupid and even selfish to say, but I think you’d like to know. I can’t masturbate. That’s a part of the whole losing someone process that people are too ashamed to discuss, or maybe they don’t have the urge to be touched anymore because after someone you love dies, after someone-- the hands who touched are dead and cold, you become a haunted object. That’s how I feel most days, like I’m a haunted house because you touched me and now you’re dead and some days I believe I am too.’’ You look around the places. It's beautiful. It's lonely. It has trees and flowers and green. Not as green as Dean's eyes, but it doesn't matter anymore. He doesn't even have eyes at this point. ‘’Well, I can’t masturbate. I can’t touch myself. And I can’t ask someone else either. I tried and ended up punching the guy, Dean. I swear. I panicked when he was between my legs and just punched his nose. You’d have liked it, you were always the jealous kind. I won’t admit that, but I thought it was kinda hot. Especially when you got possessive in sex.’’ A dirty grin appeared on your lips, the echoes of luxury lasting in your eyes for a brief moment. ‘’I don’t think I can be cared for anymore, honestly. Sam tried to hug me when Miracle died and I… It was like I wasn't there. I got frozen in time, and I live in my sleep. In my nightmares you are alive. I  dream about the day you died every week and I used to wake up screaming, but now those nightmares are the only proof you were alive now that you’re as dead as the police report says this time. It was the most painful, calamitous moment for you and I swear it was a nightmare for me, but then I realized that at least I had you there, egoistical or not, I made my nightmare into a dream.’’ You aren't sure which opinion Dean would have on that. Would he understand? Would he shake his head? You wish you can ask him just this one more thing, just beg him to write it down for you on how to be without him here.

You raise on your feet, glaring at the name craved in the concrete. The tears go by still, although they're as usual as the blood in glir veins at this point. ‘’Death is so silly. What it takes, anyway?" Each word conquers more inches of pure wrath. ''People die because they stumbled on their own feet and hit their head somewhere, or they drove their car too close and too fast to the cliff, or because they were giving birth, or because they dated the wrong person, or because they were hunting a fucking vampire and got impaled. What are the chances? How stupid, and idiotic is death? Always creeping and waiting to bite and chew a piece of you-- Taking every scrap of you from me like that’s its right.’’ You are screaming, starting to kick and punch the tombstone with any piece of straight you have. Your limbs hurt and the blood is visible, but you keep going. ‘’YOUR STUPID DOG DIED, DEAN! AND YOU DIED! AND I DIED! SAMMY DIED! YEAH, IS SAID SAMMY! GO AHEAD, TELL ME ONLY YOU CAN CALL HIM THAT.’’ Another punch, your knuckles are ripped. Another kick, your boot as a hole. ‘’DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT.’’ Kick. ‘’SAMMY, SAMMY, SAMMY!’’ A punch to each name. Anything to get a reaction, to get comfort. Anything. ‘’YOU CAN’T BECAUSE YOU ARE DEAD.’’ Gasping for something you don't need anymore, sweet oxygen, your eyes are on the tombstone again. And the definitions. And the trees. Your body is sore and aching. It is the kind and coercion no person wants which you needed; the freedom of feeling outside the exact pain that was inside. ‘’You can’t because you are dead. I’ve been playing some sick games in my mind, you know? Sam stopped hunting and had his closure. He was always better at letting go than you and I, but he’s still hurting. I never saw him hurting so much. I think he knows you won’t come back this time, how could you make us promise something like that?  Well, my twisted game is a bunch of misleading what ifs. What if you hadn’t gone after John? What if you hadn’t gone on that last hunt? What if you had stayed with Lisa? At first I didn’t like her much. Jealous, I admit that. But she grew on me. She gave you something I couldn’t back then and I’ll always be thankful for that. And even though it would rip me apart, I’d rather you to die at sixth after living your suburban dream with her. Have another kid besides Ben, maybe a girl this time, and just have that apple pie life. You and Sam would live close and your kids would always play. They’d be as close as brothers. Maybe I’d get a guy and bring my own kids and we could’ve a barbecue and everyone would be happy. But we don’t get soft epilogues here. It ends how it starts, right? Bloody and desperate. I thought maybe, maybe Lisa could understand what’s going through my head now. I drove to her new address and parked close to her house. I must have spent hours there, thinking if I should come in or not, If she somehow remembered after Castiel died or if I could make her brain work again if I told her the truth. But then I just drove back home and fell asleep wrapped in that stupid lumberjack flannel of yours. The one I always mocked, yeah? She may understand me, but I know you wouldn’t want that. You want her, you want me and Sam to be happy. I don’t know if I can do that, Dean. It’s like myt brittle soul shrewd and my body is just waiting to collapse.’’ You signed, overwhelmed by the battle without an anthem. The victory with no triumph. Is it still a win when you don't have someone to come home too? ‘’Your dog died, it’s the first birthday you didn’t live to see, and I bought all the things you told Mrs Butters you wanted for your birthday because it’s your birthday. I just don’t know how to celebrate it with you dead. People stop counting after they die, right? They just say he’d have been 42 or he died at 41. They give melancholy smiles when they wake up and check the day on their phones and a woe atmosphere swallows them for the rest of the day. Then they get better the next day. I think everyday is your birthday.’’ You attempt to wipe away your tears, which only causes your pulsating hand to stain your face red. ‘’Dean, for the first time, what died stayed dead! Congrats.’’ Once again, a hysterical laugh. ‘’I wish but no. What died didn’t stay dead, you are alive, so alive in my head. I swear you are there some days. I wake and watch the door, so sure you’ll come back. Sam says I’m living in delusion and I have to wake up and keep going since that's what you would want. That's enough to make him keep going, but it only makes me angry. Everyone we know and some strangers looks at me like I'm a house on fire and no longer a warm home, like I'm a car accident. They think I don't notice but I do.’’ You look at your boots, the whole is rolling out blood like your hands. You feel closer to Dean. How sick.

‘’Help, I’m still right where you left me." You plea, his love lingering like a bruise. ''I think gravity is overwhelming and it keeps me here. Sometimes it’s like I’m one of those dusted books Sam used to read. Or those Bukowski ones that you hid, so we wouldn’t see how smart you’re. You tried so hard to hide your intelligence because you didn’t think you were entitled to it. You saw yourself as the protector and never the valuable one for protection. You, the man who made an EMF out of an old radio, who rebuilt the Impala from the ground multiple times, and who knew patterns better than any detective. The man who showed me I could rely on someone other than myself. The dude with a lopsided grin, tough hands and a heart of gold. I miss you so much. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were singing all those classic rock songs and Taylor Swift pop hits, while I drove here. I would think you were home, smelling like guts because you wanted to eat before taking a shower after a hunt. I would think that you are in the Deancave, waiting for me to curl up on your lap to watch Scooby Doo or Doctor Sexy MD until we aren’t watching anymore. If I didn’t know better I would think no death could take you from me. There would be no tear us apart in our vows.’’ The only thing that keeps your organism working is that Dean died knowing how much you loved him. You never let this talk for later or never. No tomorrow is promised. That's a nice comfort, maybe that's what will help you to let go in the future. ‘’But yesterday your stupid, skink dog died and I lost the last living thing that I had from you. You know what’s more angerting? I cried and Sam cried and I noticed we were the living things you left behind and all we have is each other. All your closets of backlogged dreams were left for us-- so yeah. Sam is done hunting and he’s met a lovely girl, and they are moving in like in your domestic dreams. I’m taking care of the family business like your other contradictory dream and making sure Sam is safe enough to be normal. Because I have to, we have too. Stupidly enough, I still wait for the day you’ll burst out the door and tell us to hit the road again. I still watch every episode of your dumb tv shows to make sure I’ll know everything that happened when you ask. I still drive around in your car and close my eyes when the street is calm, only picturing you driving as Baby’s engineers go wild but those are my hands on the steering wheel. If I didn't know better, I’d think you are still around. But I know better. I still feel you all around. I love you.’’

Your monologuing ends as astutely as it stated. You get up, press a kiss to your ruined for the next weeks hands and place it on the rock with writings. You turn around and walk back to the car that you parked near, only in case of Dean wanting to see Baby. How knows? You and your clandestine faith. You lick your lip and get in the car.

You swear you the AC/DC cassette wasn't there before, but when you turn on the car and the radio it starts playing. It's the first true smile that comes to your mouth, it's bloodstained and you look like a shameless woman. With that you can deal.

It hurts a bearable hurt for now. You didn't think it was possible. Maybe someday.

The end.

(she takes a little longer to arive in heaven than sammy. his baby brother says that women are most likely to live around six years more than men. it doesn't ease him up, though. dean waited sam for too long, his platonic soulmate. and now he has to wait his romantic one too? the eldest Winchester considers it the best earthly present when the he sense you around, that smell of orange and apples. it's you, he knows before even turning around. he can't wait to love you again. your name rolls off your tongue so naturally, as if you had seen each other just yesterday: ‘’hey, y/n.’’)

But then again, nothing ever really ends, does it?

REBLOG AND COMMENT. Feedback is magic and helps me!

Starburst's footnote: It just didn't feel right to make an author's note on the top. I wanted it all only to be an arrow to the story. So, this is my side note: it's six am and I'm up writing this after inspiration kissed me with a bruise in the middle of the night. Or more like grabbed my throat. Anyway, I had to write and finish this one to post today, even pushing sleep aside. Hey, we are writers, that's what we do! I've been watching the show since I was eleven and I cried like a baby with the finale. This series was just so important and crucial to molde aspects of relationships for me. The song marjorie by Taylor Swift was used here, and so was the line "you got my devotion/ but man, I can hate you sometimes" by Harry Styles. I told you guys I would use it somewhere! A special thanks to @msmarvelouswinchester​ who helped me with her encouraging and opinon. You are the best! And with all of this I wanna say: Happy bday, Dean Winchester!

REBLOG AND COMMENT! Feedback is magic! Especially about this fic, I’d like to know your opinion. Tags in the reblog! Send an ask or dm to get in the taglist.

[kintatsujo]

LOZ AU- The Courage of Running Away PART ONE

warnings: Parental abuse, fantasy religion, fantasy religious abuse

So the original grain of this concept was actually a dream I had once but we'll get to that.

A major aspect of this idea that makes it an "AU" as opposed to "just" a "game pitch as fanfic" concept is that it has a worldmap that looks something like this: 

[Image Description: A map of a continent.  In the center is Gerudo Desert, ringed by mountains that extend from the bottom to top of the continent.  On the west side of Gerudo Desert, from north to south, are countries labeled "Termina," "Holodrum," and "Labrynna," while on the east side are countries labeled "Hytopia," "Hyrule" and "Lorule."  Hytopia is indicated to be a sky island above a territory labeled "Drablands."  Hyrule and Termina are more directly east and west of one another, as the Drablands are the northernmost country of the continent and Labrynna is the southernmost country.  There is an indication of another continent to the east, and off the eastern shore is a sky island labeled "Sky Temple."  To the south of Labrynna is a proper island labeled "Windfish Isle."  There is a legend in the upper left corner that reads "Really generalized AU map.  Proportions not to be taken too seriously and most of the sky islands besides Hytopia just aren't there because it would get too busy."  End Description.]

Lorule as a physical country to the south of Hyrule rather than a mirror version of Hyrule is because I am weak for dumb puns.  Also in general you can describe this as "this is my AU and I do what I want."  

Also the map of Hyrule itself in this AU should be considered to be heavily similar to the Breath of the Wild map because that's what I want shh.  Does this mean the other countries are similar in scope despite being based on countries from earlier and smaller games?  Well, yeah.  

I actually tried out making this worldmap in RPGMaker btw but to get something I was happy with I'd at LEAST need a nicer worldmap tileset for MZ.  Do I have the skills to make that?  Yep.  Have I got the time to make that?  Nope.

Anyway so as noted there's actually a NUMBER of floating sky islands in this version of the setting, and its version of Link was raised here, in the sky temple monastery/commune/abbey don't look at me:

[Image description: A floating island with a round temple, some sort of pillars arranged in a circle, and a few other buildings, one of which might be a dormitory.  The temple has a statue of the Triforce nested in Hylia's wings on the roof.  End description.]

A couple notes here since it's the only good place: In this Hyrule there are Loftwings because I said so.  There is also a Rito run mail service and there are also balloon-based airships.  Again, because I said so.  The Rito are the main people who run supplies to the Sky Temple, but there's also a number of hylians with bonded Loftwings living there.  The Loftwings are a little less mysterious in that they clearly roost nearby riders they've bonded with; note the large archways kind of indicated on the side of the dorm building.  Link, at this point in the story, does not have a Loftwing, which is important for reasons that will become clear by the end of this post.  Also, I'm not sure how obvious it is but I do intend that there's a cucoo/chicken coop set up near the dorm; this is for the eggs but the monk or whatever in charge of them is definitely a crazy bird person and probably also keeps messenger pigeons.  There would also be a garden somewhere and as one can possibly tell there's a graveyard.  Basically this Sky Temple is what I thought Skyloft was going to be a little more like until I found out it was literally a Boarding School Town.  Anyway.

The thing is that this Link was discovered to be the Hero of the age sometime in his infancy.

And this is the person who discovered him:

[Image description: On one half of the page is an establishing shot of a hylian man in blue and white (light gray) robes and a hat, with long hair in a braid and graying at the temples.  He's approximately middle aged by the lines in his face, tall and slender and moderately attractive.  He is wearing heavy gold diamond shaped earrings to match the symbols of Hylia and the Triforce on his clothing.  He is frowning, and he is labeled "Astramorus."  On the other half of the page are a series of comic panels: In the first, a young Link is hiding from a Rito behind Astramorus's cloak.  Astramorus asks, apparently fondly, "Come now boy, where's your courage?" while the Rito sheepishly assures him "Th-that's quite all right, Lordship."  In the second panel, a very small Link dressed in the Hero of Hylia's traditional green outfit is wiping his eyes while holding a sword too large for him.  There is blood on Link's clothes.  Astramorus, standing so that only the hem of his robes are in shot, asks "Come now boy, where's your courage?"  And in the last panel, lit as though by fire, Astramorus now has a much older Link by the back of the neck in a controlling manner, once again asking, "Come now boy, where's your COURAGE?"  End description.]

By the way the manner in which Astramorus is holding the back of Link's neck in the final panel is a sneaky thing my dad used to pull sometimes; basically if you squeeze just hard enough to hurt nobody but the person you're doing it to can actually tell so you can even do it in public without people necessarily noticing.  It took me ages to go "wait that was actually really fucked up that he used to do that."  Shoulder touch is good, neck touch bad.

A note on Astramorus's costume: It's basically an evil version of the costume worn by the priestly guy from the Sanctuary in alttp.  Astramorus himself, well, I had the idea for him well before Age of Calamity came out but yes he is basically named after Aster, so you can guess that he's more than just a terrible father.

Astramorus has been training Link since he could lift his sword, including trials he should have been too small for and acquiring things for him to fight-- and kill.    Link isn't allowed to speak to anyone unless asked questions or told to by Astramorus, not even the other members of the monastery (although perhaps many of the people there have taken their own vows of silence.)  

And he's not allowed to have opinions, and he's not allowed to back down in a fight or say that he's too tired to keep training, and this has been going on since Link was six.  Astramorus tells him this is the ideal.  That never backing down and never stopping is what courage means and what being the hero means.  That starting from a young age is only proof of the hero's purity of heart.

And when Link is nearing seventeen, Astramorus tells him that he's going to present him to the royal family of Hyrule, and that at last the HARD part will truly begin.  (Keeping in mind that he was putting a six year old through trials MEANT for a seventeen year old.)  And Link breaks: 

[Image Description: A comic.  Link is putting together a paraglider not dissimilar to the one from BotW.

He narrates: Tomorrow we're supposed to set out so that I can meet the king of Hyrule.  Which means that this is my last chance to run away.

Link grinds his classic hat into the ground with one boot, and leaves his sword stabbed into the earth behind him.  He leaps off the sky island and toward the sun on the horizon.

Link narrates: I don't care if this is cowardly anymore.

End description.]

And THAT one page is what the dream that started the concept was about; some people might remember me talking about it as long as three years ago and it's just been stuck in my head ever since!  (Also: I love the idea of there being a Link who starts out wearing the classic outfit and THEN switches to other costumes.)

This is obviously not the end of this AU, lol, stay tuned for where Link finally crash lands (spoiler: He makes it pretty far and you might be able to guess from the map >:3c)

#AU August

#LoZ AU: The Courage of Running Away

Bonus: 

[Image description: A headshot flat color sketch of this Link, who has short fluffy light blonde hair and green eyes.  He is yelling, with tears in his eyes: "I am NEVER wearing that STUPID hat again!"  End description!]

[leejungchans]

— reunited.

🆕 ask juliet anything!! | juliet’s masterlist

word count: 1.3k

warning(s): none!!

note: words in bold are spoken in english!!

set in early 2017

summary: in which juliet bumps into someone very, very familiar and dear to her heart.

Juliet nods her head along to the music playing from her earphones as she peruses the snack aisle in the supermarket. Her classes ended a bit earlier today, giving her more time before she has to be at the company for training. What better way to spend that time than getting snacks to share with the others during their breaks?

Definitely chocolate, she thinks as she grabs a bar from one of the shelves, pausing for a few seconds before grabbing two more. Who am I kidding? We’ll inhale it within thirty seconds if I get just one. What if I also got chips? Or is that too much if we’re going to get tteokbokki after training?

Sighing, Juliet looks wistfully at the assortment of snacks before lowering her head and speed-walking through the aisle. If I can’t see it, I won’t be tempted.

Stopping by the dairy section, she reaches for a bottle of banana milk after much deliberation between it and the strawberry milk. This specific brand of flavoured milk was the first thing she had after landing in South Korea, and since then she’d always try to have either before practice or evaluations as a good luck charm whenever possible.

Juliet is about to head to the cashier when she spies a boy around her age standing only a few feet away from her looking at the selection of bottled tea. Her heart skips a beat when she catches the side profile of the boy. It can’t be him... can it? But he looks so awfully similar to...

Before she can be sure, the boy makes his choice and disappears behind the aisle she was just in. Juliet finds herself following after him. She wanted—no, needed—to confirm she hadn’t been seeing things, that he is indeed who she thinks he is. It’s been so long since she’s seen him, she can’t just leave without being sure.

Doing her best to act natural, she walks back to the snack aisle and grabs a bag of spicy chips, pretending to read the label when she’s really trying to get a better look at the boy out of the corner of her eye. Unfortunately, the boy isn’t near enough for her to be sure, and before Juliet can inch closer to him, he leaves the aisle.

Damn it, I knew I should’ve put on my glasses.

Hastily shoving the bag of chips back into its original place, Juliet hurries to catch up with him, carefully peeking behind the shelves to see which section he went into.

Wait... do I look suspicious right now? What if someone’s watching me through the CCTV and thinks I’m trying to steal something? The thought causes her to shudder, hoping she’ll get her answer as quickly as possible so she won’t have to act like this anymore.

Passing through the aisles, Juliet finally finds the boy looking at the instant ramen before casually slipping in and grabbing a random one from the shelf, once again watching him using her peripheral vision. Is this weird? This is so weird. Man, if he’s not who I think he is, I would’ve done all this for nothing... Fuck! He’s looking this way! Don’t look at him, don’t look at him, don’t look at him... 1790mg of Sodium... interesting... what riveting information...

So deep in thought, Juliet doesn’t realises that he’s approaching her until she feels him trying to squeeze past her in the narrow corridor in an effort to leave. Jumping in surprise from the sudden contact, the bowl of ramen slips from Juliet’s hold and falls to the ground with a clatter.

“Sorry!” they both squeak in unison, the boy crouching down to pick up the ramen before she can do so herself. When he looks up to hand it back to her, they freeze upon getting a good look at the other’s face, eyes widening with realisation.

“Felix?”

“Juliet?”

Huge smiles slowly spread across their faces after getting over the initial shock before they pull each other in a hug.

“It’s so good to see you!” Juliet squeals. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here now!” Felix explains once they separate, laughing when her eyes widen comically at his revelation.

“Shut the front door. Really?”

“Yeah! I auditioned for JYP a while ago and got accepted, and they told me to move here immediately. I wanted to contact you, but I think you changed your phone number...”

“Oh, I did,” Juliet says sheepishly. “But I’m glad we ran into each other here! Well, not really ran into... I was kinda following you around the store like a creep because I was trying to make sure if you were really... you.”

Felix giggles. “Were you? I didn’t notice. I just thought you were another student trying to buy snacks after school.”

“I mean... that part’s true,” Juliet says with a grin as they walk back to the cashier to pay. “But anyways, it’s so great that you’re with JYP now! Are you doing okay with settling in and stuff?”

He nods slowly. “I think so, I’m still adjusting to the culture shock and practising my Korean, but the boys there are helping me a lot! One of them is also from Sydney, can you believe it?”

“You’ll have to introduce us sometime then,” she says as she hands the cashier some money while he scans her items. “Plus, you found me now! So if you need anything or just someone to talk to, you can reach me! You have a Korean number now, right?”

He nods again, rummaging for his wallet and phone in his bag before handing the latter to Juliet so she can enter her number in while he pays. The two leave the supermarket with a quick “thank you!” to the cashier as she returns his phone.

“‘Aussie sister’?” Felix laughs, reading the contact name she saved for herself.

“Yeah! You can change it if you want, or if you already met another Aussie sister at JYP,” she pouts. “In that case, I can be ‘Aussie sister #2’ or ‘Julie’ or whatever.”

“Nah, I don’t know any other Aussies here other than you and the boy I mentioned earlier. His name’s Chan, by the way! Where are you going now? To SM?”

Juliet smiles melancholically. “I’m not with SM anymore, Lix,” she says softly, watching his eyebrows crease with worry. “I’m with another company now called KQ. It’s much smaller compared to SM, but I’m happy there and they treat me well, so don’t worry.”

“Well, if you’re happy, then it’s all that matters!” Felix says brightly. “I have to go back to JYP too, but we’ll meet up more now that I’m here, right?” he adds the last part hopefully.

“Definitely! When we have time, I’ll take you to all my favourite food places in this area,” Juliet promises.

Felix beams. “I can’t wait! Take care, okay? And good luck with training.”

“You too. Again, it’s really, really nice seeing you again.”

“Likewise... so, this is goodbye?” he asks when they come to a intersection, being able to tell that Juliet has to go the other route from the direction her feet are pointing at.

“Yeah... but only for now! Remember to text me later so I’ll have your number!”

Felix nods. “I will. I’ll see you around?”

“You bet. I still have so much to tell you,” Juliet tells him before they hesitantly go their separate ways, knowing they both have to be at their companies soon but still wanting to catch up more.

It doesn’t take long for her to turn around to watch Felix’s retreating figure, though she immediately bursts into laughter when he does the same, and the two friends give each other one last exaggerated wave before disappearing into the crowds of people.

Despite the freezing temperature, Juliet feels warm and fuzzy on the inside, overjoyed from seeing her childhood friend for the first time in years while also knowing that there will be more to come now that Felix also lives in Seoul.

Things really are starting to look up.

She walks into KQ’s building with a spring in her step, arms clutching her banana milk and chocolate securely when her phone chimes from a notification. Clumsily fumbling with her uniform skirt’s pocket, Juliet fishes out her phone, instantly grinning at the message that pops up on the lockscreen.

[Unknown Number] [16:03] your aussie bro right here!!! 🐨 fighting today!!!!!!

— bonus!!

juliet following felix around the supermarket trying not to look sus like:

a/n: i can’t believe it took me this long to write a scenario with felix but here it is 🥺🥺 bc they were both in a hurry, they didn’t exactly have time for an emotional reunion but rest assured they were very, very happy to see each other :3 especially for juliet, she was still adjusting to everything and everyone at kq, so when felix came into her life again it made her so happy 🥺💕

[thetriggeredhappy]

Consider: the scene in the comics where Scout dies, but instead it's Spy who's dying and he actually has the balls to tell Scout the truth face-to-face before it's too late.

consider: this shit is gonna break your heart, anon. dad!spy hours

(warnings for canon-typical violence, extreme character injury, major character death)

-

Just his luck that he’d find himself alone with so many of those ridiculous robots and with his knee so destroyed. He at least managed to take down the one that finally got him.

These tin cans didn’t even know enough to understand how to efficiently kill someone, he seethed. He’d certainly be bleeding out shortly—he was fairly sure he had a punctured lung, among other things, but the blood loss would probably be what did him in—but god, it was taking forever.

He could take some solace in that he at least didn’t drag Sniper to die along with him, had sent him to try and pick off as many bots as he could from the windows. And... well, he was fairly sure he’d been as useful as he could have been in this fight. Helped kill one of the Classic team—two, if you counted throttling his own counterpart—and done some good recon work besides. This wasn’t the most poetic or heroic death, but he wasn’t a fan of poetry and had never considered himself much of a hero, so that was probably fair.

But that stupid robot had ruined his jacket, which he was pretty annoyed about. Not like it would matter in the long run, but frustrating regardless.

God, it was cold.

He lifted his head when he heard the sound of rapid footfalls echoing down the hall, growing closer. Hey, maybe he could trick some robot into finishing him off, at least. Save himself some time and excruciating pain. He would’ve gone for the cyanide tooth, but unfortunately, this was the one situation where he’d jumped for that option a little bit too early. Just his luck.

(God, it was cold.)

Oh, well. Bludgeoned to death by a Scoutbot at least promised to be relatively quick. They tended to go for the head.

He looked up to at least give a snide remark to his more rapidly-approaching death, only for them to get stuck in his throat as the death in question rounded the corner and made eye contact with him.

“Holy shit, Spy?” Scout asked, looking startled and a little out of breath.

“Merde,” Spy mumbled, and was a little caught off guard by how hoarse his voice was.

In a second Scout had taken a knee next to him and was surveying the damage, mouth running at a mile a minute. “Holy shit we were lookin’ everywhere, Sniper showed up because I guess he was dead but now he’s better apparently and he said you two split off for some reason but you’d been fuckin’ kneecapped and—dude, you look like shit, what happened?”

“What does it look like?” Spy asked dryly.

“I mean, I don’t wanna give you an ‘I told you so’ or nothin’ but this is kinda what you get for disappearing and running off on your own all the time,” Scout pointed out.

He almost couldn’t feel the tiny ache of guilt that put in his chest underneath all the other much more life-threatening aches that were also in his chest. “Well, I’d say I’ve learned my lesson, but I think unfortunately I won’t be able to demonstrate any time soon,” Spy replied, and yeah, there was a puncture to his lung. He had to fight hard to hold down a cough, and only because he knew it would sound extremely pathetic.

“Okay, uh—can you move? Okay, you can’t move,” Scout seemed to decide. “Uh, okay, okay so I’ll uh—so I’m gonna go get Medic, and—he’s fast too we should be able to get back here in like ten minutes flat, easy! Just, I guess try and hold your guts in, I’ll be right back with help!”

Considering the amount of injured Medic was likely to be, he very much doubted Scout would be back with Medic in only ten minutes. And considering the way that his vision was swimming and how distorted Scout’s face got towards the tail end of that last sentence, he doubted he would make it ten minutes anyways.

And he found unexpected panic suddenly rising up in his chest at the thought of dying alone, here in a hallway surrounded by broken mechanical parts and acrid smoke. He forced himself into motion despite the way it made the entire room suddenly seem to careen to the left, and managed to catch Scout by the leg of his ridiculous trousers before he could take off again. “Wait,” he croaked. “Wait.”

“I, no, I gotta go get Medic, I’ll take like ten seconds—“ Scout was quick to assure, so quick that Spy realized he was legitimately worried.

“I’ll—“ Spy started, and paused to clear his throat just to give himself enough time to think of an excuse to have Scout stick around for a minute. “I’ll be fine to wait a little longer, but first I had something important to say.”

Scout frowned. “Yeah?”

And he did. He absolutely did. The problem was that this excuse was... hm.

The problem was that this was something he’d been putting off. The larger part of the situation for about 20 years, and then more directly for about six. And Spy thought that surely he would work up the courage to get to it over the course of their employment, only for it to be unexpectedly terminated, and he decided, well, that was that. He would just have to live with it. But then they got arrested and the thought that surely he would get to it over the course of their time in prison, and once again he didn’t, couldn’t seem to force himself into that conversation, not when he was trapped, not when he couldn’t run from whatever outcome ended up happening.

And now he was dying. And for all he knew, Scout was going to die shortly as well. And in most of the ways that mattered, Spy was the only person who could really answer this question, because apparently Scout’s mother had committed to the lie he’d asked her to tell, had continued to stay headstrong on helping to cover up how he’d faked his death. And how was she to know he was really dead, surely Scout would never bring it up—

If he didn’t tell Scout now, Scout would never know.

Scout would go the rest of his life never getting answers about his father.

“Merde,” he mumbled again, slumping back against the wall and squeezing his eyes shut against the way the world was spinning, feeling motion sick.

He heard Scout take a knee again, and after a second he hesitantly prompted him. “Uh, what? What is it? What’s up?” he asked carefully.

Spy forced himself to open his eyes, and was a little startled by how difficult it was. He focused hard on one of his own shoes, trying his best to make the world stop spinning so fast. He swallowed hard to try and clear his throat, steady his voice. It almost worked. “This is very important,” he started with, and forced sharpness into his tone. “So I will not be needing any of your little jokes and quips and interruptions.”

“Y... yeah, okay,” Scout said, and the worry was extremely easy to read on his face, and Spy kind of hated that.

Spy considered his words. “You’ve mentioned before that you never knew your father,” he decided to open with. Scout immediately began to frown. “And... and I never said anything. Even though that was a very brave thing to bring up.”

Scout opened his mouth to reply before remembering himself and shutting it again.

“And I wanted to apologize,” Spy managed to choke, and he kept track of Scout’s expressions in his periphery, finding it easier to hold on to that way than by trying to look at him directly. “Because you’re never going to get the chance to know your father, not really. Not in the way you deserve, and it’s my fault.“

“Spy, what the fuck does that even mean?” Scout demanded, and maybe the anger starting to flood into his voice was fair. “You—what did you do?”

“You deserved to have a father,” Spy said, and it couldn’t have been more obvious that he was dodging the question, but maybe he wanted to be obvious, just for a minute. “A good one, who did all sorts of ridiculous fatherly things for you. And it’s not your fault that you didn’t. You deserved to. You did.”

God, it was cold.

“And he should have been there for you, and for your family,” Spy continued, and felt his stomach lurch unexpectedly, and had to shut his jaw tight for a moment, tight enough to feel his fake teeth aching. “And he should have supported them and been a good father, and your life should have been made much more easy than it was, and you should not have needed to get in fights and become a criminal in the first place, and you should never have needed to sign up to become a murderer in some terrible desert in New Mexico among a pack of assassins and madmen.”

“Spy, I, I should get Medic—“ Scout tried to cut in, moved as if to stand back up. Spy snared a hand in the front of Scout’s shirt, and though he knew full well that he wasn’t strong enough to actually stop Scout in any capacity, he froze up anyways.

“And—and I know that you deserved a real father, and I knew that,” Spy said, “and I know there is no excuse that can ever be given. There is nothing that I can ever say to make it up to you, or to your mother, or your brothers, nothing. And I should have been there but I was scared and I was convinced I was being hunted and I cared too much about all of you to let that happen because of me, and it was selfish—“

“Spy,” Scout said, and it took all the strength that Spy had just to look at him, and there were a lot of emotions on his face just then. He saw realization, for one. Shock, astonishment maybe.

And for the first time in maybe his entire life, Spy decided that he just needed to be honest. 

“I’m your father, Jeremy,” Spy croaked.

Silence. Long, long silence. In the far distance, gunshots and explosions and yelling, soft enough that he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t his imagination.

“You gonna try and say some kind of cool line, now, too?” Scout asked, and his voice was sharp enough to sting, and Spy winced at it. “Some kind of bullshit about how it, it was for my own good? Or that it’s—that you always cared from far away or some shit, that it was better this way? Gonna ask me to fuckin’ forgive you, here on your deathbed?”

“No, I am not,” Spy replied, voice faint. “I know there is nothing I can say to make it up to you. Words are insufficient.” He breathed deeply and forced down the instinct that was telling him to cough. “But I would rather not leave you wondering forever. I thought... this was better than nothing.”

Scout made a noncommittal noise. Silence.

“I get the distinct impression that you are angry with me,” Spy managed.

“Duh, I’m mad at you. Jesus fuck, you have no clue how mad I am at you. But I’m not...” Scout paused to think over his words. “I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at... old you. The you who ran off. And... I dunno. Kinda seems like you hate that guy too.”

“Very much,” Spy confirmed.

“Yeah. I dunno. I guess... I dunno.” Scout paused for a long moment. “And... maybe this is better than nothing, I guess. Because... it’s not the same or nothin’, but... I dunno. At least I know now. And... at least I know what my dad’s like now. That’s something.” 

Silence. Spy managed a nod, but not words.

When Scout spoke again, his voice was uncharacteristically level. “You’re gonna die here, aren’t’cha, Spy?”

“Oui. I have no doubt in my mind,” Spy sighed, so quietly that he wasn’t sure Scout could hear it.

Scout was quiet for a minute. He moved to pull Spy’s hand off of his shirt (not that it was difficult), and for one terrifying moment Spy thought he was about to just drop Spy’s hand and stand up and leave him to rot in some hallway on an uncharted island where he would never be found. His vision was darkening rapidly, and he didn’t think he had the strength to try and stop him again, or that it would even work.

But instead Scout clasped Spy’s hand in his own and held it tight to his chest, squeezing Spy’s shoulder beneath his hand. “Run hell, asshole,” Scout said with the slightest of smiles, and it was so like Scout to be joking just then, to be trying to comfort him just then even if it was in his own way, to find the most indirect, roundabout method of letting Spy know that things were okay. And it made Spy laugh, and laughing was the last thing that Spy remembered.

-

He saw the last of the color drain from Spy’s face, the way the muscles there slowly went slack, and after a long moment he moved the hand from Spy’s shoulder to check for a pulse. He shifted to try again three times, not positive he was doing it right, before realizing, no. He was definitely doing this right. Spy was dead.

He let his own hand drop, then carefully laid down Spy’s.

Man. Twenty-seven fuckin’ years, and he finally finds his dad, and it’s Spy. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Spy would find a way to escape that kind of conversation and never look back, but he was a little surprised that his solution was apparently dying.

...

That wasn’t that funny.

Scout leaned back, scrubbed at his face with his hand, forcing himself to take a few deep breaths. Conflicted emotions. Conflicted thoughts.

Jesus, he should’ve seen it. That dumb dream he’d had back at Heavy’s house when he’d almost died, the stupid jokes Spy kept making about his Ma and the suspicious amount of information Spy had about him, way more than was probably on any official record. And the weird shit Heavy had been saying to him, and all the times Spy stuck his neck out for him when he really didn’t have to—

He didn’t think it was obvious enough for him to guess, but it was definitely obvious enough to suspect.

...So being an asshole ran in the family, huh?

He sat back on his heels.

...His Ma always said they had similar eyebrows. And their eyes in general, apparently. Ears. The mask made it kinda hard to tell.

The mask.

For a few seconds, Scout really genuinely considered taking the mask off.

This was his dad. Ma apparently lost the few pictures she had of him years ago, and this was his only chance. If he didn’t look now, he’d never really know what his dad looked like. Not in a real way. And didn’t he deserve to know? Hadn’t he earned this?

But he couldn’t, and he knew he couldn’t. That was a kind of disrespect he couldn’t stoop to, not even to a dead guy.

He didn’t know why, but he felt himself tearing up.

If he made it out of this alive, he made a promise to himself. He was gonna talk to Miss P—those two were friends, right?—and he was gonna find out more about Spy. He’d hire a private eye if he had to, he’d spend every penny of his Tom Jones money figuring out everything he could. Spy hadn’t given him a lot to work with, but it was something. It was enough.

He wiped his eyes, rocked forward to stand, shook himself. For a second he thought about getting Medic, seeing if he could work his magic, but he’d only seen Sniper for a minute, only long enough for him to say that coming back to life was a one-time deal. He took a deep breath and turned, starting to walk down the hallway. Running off felt wrong just then.

Maybe God was looking out for him, just then, because that meant he hadn’t turned the corner down the hall, which meant he heard the feeble little cough behind him and could turn around, could see that Spy had a hand lifted.

A pause to process.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Scout scathed in the angriest voice he could manage, even as he felt tears leap into his eyes.

[peepeepotter]

New Girl Hogwarts AU Chapter 5: Merry Christmas, Georgie.

Pairing: George Weasley x fem!reader; Harry Potter x Ginny Weasley

Warnings: Cursing? I think?

Word Count: 3.2 K

Series Masterlist

“It was just so weird.” Y/N shuddered, using her rolling pin on a sheet of cookies in the Hogwarts kitchens.

“I mean, yeah, that sounds uncomfortable as fuck. What are you guys, teenagers?” Fred asked her, his head in his hand, watching her closely. He had told George before, Y/N is totally George’s type. Fred couldn’t help but think that it was a surprise it took this long for them to have an uncomfortable sexually tense encounter. “What did Terry say?”

“What do you mean? Terry didn’t see. I don’t want Terry to know. I’m trying to date casually right now.” Y/N said, suddenly remembering the reason she moved into the loft.

“Casually? With TERRY? Have you met that guy? He looks like he cries during sex.” This made Y/N laugh loudly.

“It’s so weird to talk about this with you. You’re his twin, maybe I shouldn’t be talking to his dead brother about this.”

“Hey, I’m basically alive. I’m just a ghost. And stuck in this stupid castle.” Fred pouted, reaching to grab cookie dough and put it in his mouth. “Although I really can’t taste much. But from what I remember, this tastes a lot like some cookies mum used to make.” Fred smiled.

“Fred, I love you, but please don’t talk about your mom when I just told you about a sexual encounter with your brother.”

“Sexually tense encounter at best, don’t get ahead of yourself, love. Anyway, how could you be attracted to him? I’m so much better looking than him.” Fred scoffed, fake-offended. In actuality, Fred was quite happy that George was moving on from Angelina. Fred was especially happy George was moving on with one of Fred’s most consistent friends at Hogwarts. Plus she baked like Molly.

“Fred, I hate to break it to you, but you died when you were a teenager, so you still look like one. As an adult, I’m not attracted to teenagers.”

“I’ll have you know I was twenty when I died. No longer a teenager, thank you very much.” Fred grinned. “Besides, mentally I’m like four years older than you.”

“You know what I mean.” She rolled her eyes, but maintained a smile on her face. Y/N always liked hanging out with Fred, he was actually her first friend at the school. He found her crying one day after the breakup with McLaggen and did everything in his power to make her feel better about it. Ever since then, Y/N spent the majority of her free time between classes with Fred. She supposed it didn’t help that he looked an awful lot like the guy she liked. No, shut up, I don’t like him. Don’t listen to her thoughts, I’m the narrator. I’m always right, just wait.

“Y/N, do you even like Terry?”

“Well, he’s nice. And I could see myself liking him.”

“So you don’t.”

“Not yet.”

“Y/N.” Fred had his head resting in his hand against the counter, giving Y/N a look of pure disappointment. He knew Y/N and George would wind up together the minute he met her. He’s the one that showed her the ad on the wizarding web for a new place to live. Although, Y/N wasn’t happy that he didn’t tell her that she would find a man identical to him when she went to the interview with the boys. Fred just shrugged, he knew George well enough to know that they’d let her move in. He also knew George well enough to know that George would find Y/N just as adorable as Fred did.

“I just, maybe I need to rebound, okay? I don’t want to end up with someone like Terry, but I don’t want to end up hurting someone I really like in case I’m not ready to date yet.” To Fred, this sounded like code for ‘I don’t want to fuck up with your brother.’

“So you’re using Terry.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Y/N!” Fred chuckled, knowing he was right.

“I mean, so what? We’ve only been on a few dates, what’s the worst that could happen?” Little did Y/N know, she’d just jinxed herself.

-

“I’m sorry, what?” George asked, throwing his head back on the couch.

“We’re going to a party. Together, all of us.” Draco asserted. “None of you have a choice, I need people to know I have friends.” At this, Harry and George started snickering. Draco might not have been as bad as he was when they were at Hogwarts, and it certainly helped that he switched sides at the battle of Hogwarts, but people still didn’t like him.

“You mean you need—” George started.

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Draco quickly interrupted.

“What are we doing?” Y/N asked upon leaving her bedroom. “I was on the phone with my mom, what’s going on?”

“You mean mum, you stupid American.” George said unwavering, taking a sip from his beer.

“Okay, ha-ha, it was funny at first, now it’s just sad.” Y/N scrunched her nose. “Also do you ever drink water? I don’t think I’ve seen you drink anything other than beer for the past few months.”

“No comment.”

“We’re going to a Christmas party on Christmas eve.” Draco answered. He was tired of the two bickering all the time, and wouldn’t entertain it anymore.

“Oh fun! Can we also go look at Christmas lights? There’s this no-maj neighborhood not far—”

“A what neighborhood?” George asked, teasing Y/N.

“Muggle. I hate it here.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “Anyway, it’s called Candy Cane Lane and it’s supposed to be super cute.” Y/N’s face lit up, her hands clapping lightly out of excitement. George felt that stupid feeling in his stomach again.

“No.” Draco said.

“Sure.” George shrugged. Draco turned and glared at him. “If we have time. I have to get to the Burrow that night. I’ve missed Christmas with my family for the past three years because of these idiots.” He gestured towards Neville and Harry chatting in the kitchen.

“You’re supposed to party on Christmas eve!” Harry interjected.

“Yeah, party, not get black out drunk and go to the hospital annually.” George muttered, causing Y/N to giggle quietly. She took a seat on the couch near him. To her it seems that they had gone back to normal after their interaction on Thanksgiving.

“We’ll go if we have time.” George whispered to her again. She nodded with a small smile on her face.

“So Y/N,” Harry started, walking towards the couch from the kitchen. 

“Harold.”

“It’s actually—”

“Just Harry, I know, it was a joke.”

“What are you getting your boyfriend for Christmas?”

“Oh god, I have to get him something? We're barely dating. What do you get someone you’re not that close to?”

“You don’t?” George offered.

“A plant?” Neville shouted from the kitchen.

“Hand soap. I have the feeling that man doesn’t have any in his bathroom.” Draco straight-faced. Y/N snorted.

“Let’s go to the shops and find something.” Harry smiled.

--

“Why? Why did I split up and go with you?” Y/N sighed, standing behind George who was distracted by some small robotic trinket. Y/N, a muggle-born, had seen them all the time as a teenager. George clearly had not.

“Because I’m the comic relief of the group. Also, I’m the hot one.” George smirked at her. She rolled her eyes, a small smile on her face she was hoping he wouldn’t see. He did.

“Whatever, help me pick something for this stupid man.”

“So you admit it?”

“What?”

“He’s stupid?”

“I mean, yeah, but I have a muggle doctorate and I’ve studied magical creatures forever. I’d say objectively most people are stupid to me.”

“Even me?”

“Especially you.” He pushed her arm lightly, she pushed back laughing.

“Just get him one of these. They’re cute. He’s simple.” George shrugged, handing the small robot that said “Merry Christmas,” over and over to her. She shrugged, figuring he’s right.

“What about you? What do you want for Christmas?” Y/N asked. She asked to be nice, but she had already gotten him a bunch of Friends merchandise. George had proved to be a real sucker for most muggle things.

“Don’t get me anything. Seriously.” He turned towards her quickly. He had a stern look on his face.

“Why?”

“Because I’m horrible at gift giving, and I always feel in-debted when someone gives me something really good.” He didn’t look at her when he spoke this time, walking towards more muggle items. She raised her eyebrows, noting that she might have to return his Christmas gift. Actually, no. He’s getting a gift. Idiot.

--

“Here, merry Christmas.” Y/N said to Terry. They sat at the foot of her bed the day before Christmas Eve, giving each other their gifts.

“You open yours first.” He smiled at her, handing her the envelope. She opened it with a shrug. Her heart dropped. In front of her were two passes to a portkey that would take them to New York City. At the bottom of the card that contained the tickets, Terry had written a sweet note, signed with love. Love? Oh Merlin.

“I-I—” She stuttered, not knowing what to say. “Thanks, Terry.” She suddenly felt very bad for her cheap muggle gift. When he opened it, though, he wasn’t disappointed, just amused by the toy.

“Thank you so much.” He grinned at her. “I love you so much.” Her heart dropped further, and she had to keep herself from cringing.

“T-thanks.”

--

“Oh no. You said THANKS? To a confession of love?” George asked, all of the guys holding back laughs as she sat on the couch with her head in her hands.

“What was I supposed to do? Lie?” Her words were muffled by her hands.

“Well, no, but thanks?” Harry chortled out. Draco was bent over, almost on the ground from laughter. Neville was flushed red from secondhand embarrassment.

“What do I do? Break up with him? I’m not ready for any of this.” Y/N felt nauseous.

“I mean, weren’t you just kind of using him anyway?” George lectured.

“Why do you guys keep saying that?”

“You guys?”

“You fucking Weasley’s, your brother said that too.” She rolled her eyes, storming into her room. She hated living with men. They were never helpful but always thought they were.

--

The next day, George opened her bedroom door without knocking. She glared at him.

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s fine, I overreacted. I’m just annoyed at the situation.”

“Well, we’re leaving soon, so get ready.” He offered, ducking back out of her room. Y/N put on black tights and a little black dress. She grabbed a red coat after putting on fake eyelashes. She grabbed her purse, and opened her door while slipping on her heels. Stumbling into the hall, she once again was faced with several men staring at her.

“Why do you guys do this every time I wear a dress?”

“You’re pretty.” Neville smiled, making Y/N almost tear up. They always did this, stare at her, but they almost never complimented her.

“Yeah, plus we only ever see you in sweatpants. So maybe we would stare less if you dressed less like a goblin every day.” Draco said, ruining the moment and heading towards the door.

“I don’t think you look like a goblin.” George whispered to her as they walked out of the loft. She smiled softly up at him.

Upon arriving at the party, Draco flocked towards his work wife. Harry headed towards Ginny, ready to give her the gift he got her. He was only slightly disappointed to find that she had brought a date to the party. 

“Here, Ginny.” He gave her the small box when her new boyfriend (boy toy, hopefully) walked away to get her a drink.

“Harry, you didn’t have to get me anything.” She said guiltily, not having gotten him anything. She opened it slowly as he shrugged in response. It was a small bottle. “What is it?” Her eyebrows scrunched. Harry laughed.

“It’s perfume. I’m not telling you that you stink, before you say that.” Ginny smiled, glad to know Harry knew her so well. “It’s a bunch of scents that remind me of you.” He shrugged, not wanting to admit that he had Draco make amortentia to see what she smelled like.

“Oh Merlin, if I smell like this I’m so sorry.” She coughed upon smelling it, making Harry laugh.

“Yeah, it’s a little all over the place. But it’s the thought, I guess?” She grinned at him, nodding.

Meanwhile George and Neville followed Y/N over to Terry. After a short, awkward conversation, Y/N excused herself to the bathroom. Neville walked away to find Luna. George stayed with Terry.

“So, quite a present you got her.” George said awkwardly, drinking from a plastic cup.

“Oh yeah, I think she really liked it.”

“Eh.”

“What? Did she tell you she didn’t like it?”

“I think it was just a lot really soon, buddy.”

“Oh no, do you think I should’ve toned it down?”

“Probably, Terry. You spent a small fortune and told her you loved her after like three weeks.”

“Oh no, what are you saying? Did she say she doesn’t love me? I was so stressed after she didn’t say it back, but I just assumed she was nervous.”

“I— you know I don’t actually think it’s my place to tell you that, Terry.”

Simultaneously, Y/N and Ginny convened in the bathroom.

“Did you like the present Harry got you?”

“It doesn’t smell very good, but it was really sweet.”

“Well, yeah, it’s Harry. He’s been in love with you for like, ever.” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“I mean, has he, though?”

“You absolute idiot.”

“Whatever, did you like what Terry got you?”

“I didn’t tell you, yet? He got me plane tickets to the states for him and I and told me he loved me. When I’m out here thinking about my roommate.”

“Oh Merlin, so a bad perfume is definitely the way to go.” Y/N nodded in agreement. “Why are men so difficult?” Ginny added.

“It’s like they’re so simple that it’s difficult.” Y/N hummed. “We should go back out there.” They fixed their appearances in the mirror slightly before returning to the party. Y/N found George and Terry out on the balcony.

“You really don’t love me?” Terry said, turning around to face her with tears in his eyes.

“What? Where did this come from?” Before anyone could answer, she turned to George who immediately cringed. “What did you do?”

“I just- sometimes I speak without thinking?”

“Terry, don’t listen to this idiot.” George put his hands up in defense and went to leave back to the party, but found the door locked. He went for his wand and realized he had forgotten it at the loft.

“Oh no.” George whispered

“You don’t like me, do you? Did I do too much too soon? Be honest, stop doing that thing where you make me feel better.” Terry looked like a puppy, making the whole situation a lot worse.

“Somebody please help!” George pleaded, banging against the glass.

“I-Terry. Yes, okay? You scared me. It was a lot really soon. I just got out of a relationship, and I really wanted to take it slow.” Y/N confessed.

“I’m stuck out here! This is so awkward, please help!” George kept banging on the door.

“I— what if I can’t do that?” Terry asked.

“LET ME OUT!!!” George shouted.

“You can’t take it slow?” Y/N scrunched her brow.

“Oh Merlin.” George sat on the ground against the door.

“Isn’t it obvious? If I already love you and you can’t say it back, maybe we shouldn’t be together.” Although Terry’s words kind of hurt, Y/N felt somewhat relieved. “I’ll see you at work, alright?” Terry approached the door and unlocked it wordlessly with his wand.

“Thanks Terry.” George went to follow behind Terry as he left, but stopped, looking back at Y/N. He sighed, realizing he needed to clean up the mess he had made. He walked back over to her, leaning against the balcony next to her.

“You know, I think maybe this was my fault.” He admitted, looking through the glass doors at the party.

“You think, George?” She snapped.

“Well, didn’t you want to break up with him anyway?”

“Yeah, I did, but I wanted to do it on my own terms.” She puffed a breath of air out of her lips.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to completely ruin your relationship. I was trying to help him tone it down.”

“Well, thanks I guess.” She pushed off of the balcony, heading back into the party to find Neville and Luna.

“Well, fuck.” George sighed. 

--

The group, Ginny included, left the party at three in the morning. Walking through town, George attempted to rush his sister and Harry.

“We’ve got to get to the burrow like, three hours ago.” 

“Who cares? Mum and dad are asleep. They won’t know we were late.”

“Because I still have to wrap all my gifts, Gin.” George sighed. Y/N was behind the group, attempting to peel her shoes off despite the snow. Harry and Ginny started talking, and George looked around for his best friend. Finding Y/N at the back of the group, he slowed his pace until he was walking with her. He looked at her shoeless feet, walking in only stockings in the deep snow. He sighed.

“Stop.” Y/N looked up at him, his voice startling her. “All of you, stop. We’ve gotta go somewhere.”

“I thought you needed to get home to wrap your gifts.”

“We’ll just be late. It’s fine.” George shrugged, he faced Y/N suddenly. “Jump on my back, alright?” He leaned down in front of her, offering a piggy-back ride. Y/N smiled a little and climbed up on his back. The group walked to Candy Cane Lane. Upon arriving, the magic-users were disappointed. The lights were all off.

“HEY!” George started shouting.

“Oh my god, George it’s not that important, it’s okay.” Y/N whispered into his ear. Goosebumps raised on his neck upon feeling her breath so close to him.

“It is important! It’s Christmas! COME ON! YOU ALL PUT SO MUCH EFFORT INTO THESE STUPID LIGHTS! TURN THEM ON!” He shouted. Ginny grinned.

“YEAH! TURN THEM ON!” Ginny shouted

“TURN THEM ON!!” Harry grinned.

“WAKE UP!!!” George added.

“TURN THEM ON!!” Neville shouted, although much more softly than the rest.

Suddenly, one at a time, each house’s lights turned on. Draco’s wand was lifted, turning on each house's Christmas lights.

“You all are so dumb. We are fortunate enough to have magic, there was a whole war. Remember?” Draco rolled his eyes.

Y/N grinned, feeling her heart swell upon seeing the bright Christmas lights. “Thanks, Georgie.” She whispered, nestling her cheek against his neck. This time his heart swelled.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” He said, squeezing her thighs as he held her up off the ground.

“Merry Christmas, Georgie.” Y/N pressed a soft kiss against his cheek.

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A/N: if anyone wants to be added please just comment or message me and ask! I’m also working on submissions and asks if anyone wants a one shot or something <3 -mj