#i wish i knew how to speak up more during d&d cause nothing my character says or does really matters lol

[kowaindar0u]

//

[brandnewhuman]

I love ur writing it's so good!

Could I request a reader who fought back tremendously well?

GUILTY

CONTENT:

Pairings: Thomas hewitt x reader

Tw: canon violence, murder, major character death, blood, mature language

Summary: you both have to survive, and while you both do all you can only one of you at end is going to make it. Even if it means having to live with it forever

A/n: i went a little bit...overboard :'). Initially i wanted to Michael but i just thought to myself "why don't just hurt your own feelings even more and do it with Thomas?" So yeah, I'm sorry in advance for the atrocity I've just committed. Hope you liked it tho!! Im not like the best at describing and this is probably so sloppy and shitty but I've tried my best!! Enjoyy

You had always been the understanding type. The one that, during a horror movie, roots for both the victim and perpetrator. It was almost a second nature for you to see the good in any bad and the bad in any good. 

Deep inside, something about the misunderstood antagonists has always reasoned with you on the personal level. Even now as you watch, tied up to a table in a dark, cold basement, the behemoth of a man that has brought you down there your mind is buzzing with fear trying to anxiously find a reason for all of what has happened to you. 

You knew almost nothing about Thomas, as you have learned he's called, the only thing you were sure of is that he was upset by the whole situation as you were. There was not a single trace of malicious intent in anything he did, he always avoided looking directly into your face, almost as if he was ashamed. He knew what he was doing was  unforgivable but in some sort of twisted way he was too a prisoner of the situation you both were in. That notion in your head was sending waves of guilt all over your aching body. You didn't want to hurt him, you didn't want to hurt anyone but this is not how you wanted to die. 

"I.. your name is Thomas right?" You breathed out, your voice shaking anxiously as you tried to sound as friendly and calm as possible. He only looked at you briefly before focusing again in closing the right knife to use for you. You shut your eyes close trying to hold back the tears and calm yourself before speaking again. This is the only way you have to get out of here and you can't afford to fuck up "I… I know you're not a bad person. I can see that you have..you have to do it" at this he stopped but still didn't look at you. This was the first time someone, someone who was in your position, has said something like that. There has been a few who have tried to literally fuck their way out of it but never one who was simply… kind. You took him stopping as your cue to keep going. 

"Know that…I don't hate you. You're trying t-to survive and..and I get it" your tone was more of a whisper at this point cause the painful feeling of your throat closing wouldn't allow you to raise your voice any further. You weren't even sure if he heard you since he didn't seem to react. Your heart was sinking deeper into your stomach as your head racked to find other ways to get him to untie you. 

But he did hear you, he heard you so clearly that he almost wished you didn't say anything. Slowly and hesitant he turned completely towards you, his broad shoulders raising up and down with every deep and heavy breath he took. You realised with horror that his right hand was tight in a fist around the handle of a big and blood dirty cleaver, his knuckles almost white from the how hard he was holding the tool. 

"I- i didn't want to make you angry i- I just" your words caught up in your throat almost choking you as panic settled all over your body. You couldn't stop shaking as he started taking painfully slow steps towards you. You had to keep going, you had to try again or you would be able to leave. 

"I just! I- i just d-don't want it to hurt…please. I know I can't leave, I…I just want you to be…be gentle. I know you can please" your pleas paired with your glossy eyes widening in fear tugged at Thomas's heartstrings. You weren't even trying to survive…you were just asking for a painless death and that was something that filled his entire body with liquid and burning guilt. Deep down he knew that he shouldn't even care, that he should just get over it and little does he know that part of him is right but is it really that terrible to comply just once? You were gonna die after all, was it really too much for him to just do it nicely? He felt that he owed you at least that, giving what purpose your body was going to serve. 

When he gave you a single soft nod you could've almost cried from relief. Your thank you's crushed against his already heavy heart as he worked on the straps that were restraining you with his free hand. Once he was done he looked at you, one hand reaching hesitantly to your face as he brushed away a few tears staining your cheeks. He was surprisingly careful and soft so that you felt the need to lean to his gentle touch. His eyes were full of surprise as you did and he stayed still, holding his breath as his heart started beating harder and faster. The longing in his gaze, the way he cupped your cheek as you leaned in his hand and the tremble in his breaths once he finally let his lungs get more air was not mixing well with the knowledge of what you were about to do. 

"I'm sorry…" you said so softly and so gently that Thomas didn't realise what you were saying fast enough. With one swift movement you took the cleaver from his now more loose grip, making his sharp end meet brutally against Thomas' right shoulder. 

Everything was going so slow but so fast at the same type as a heart wrenching shriek of pain filled the air. You pulled back the cleaver as soon as one of Thomas' hands tried to get a hold of you before you could run. You dodged it and pulled yourself down the table. You started to run towards the exit doors still holding the cleaver in your hand in case you had to use it again.. Heavy footsteps followed you closely as you climbed the stairs. He huffed in pain and anger as his mind was filled with red tinted violent thoughts fueled by the feeling of betrayal and shame falling upon him from trusting you. 

Before you could open the door his arms wrapped around your waist pulling away scaring you and as an involuntary reflex, the hand holding the cleaver just open and flew to where Thomas's were placed, clawing them while you kicked and screamed trying to free yourself from his deadly grip. Your elbow met his face several times, forcing out of him moans of pain while he tried to keep his mind focused on getting you back on the table. Your last blow broke his nose, taking him by surprise as he backed away from you after finally freeing your body from his hold. While holding his nose and groaning in pain he misplaced one of his feet and lost balance, falling down the stairs. If he already didn't feel humiliated enough now he definitely did. 

You turned to look at him, you wouldn't be able to leave if you didn't take him down now and you knew it. You almost hoped it didn't have to be this way but you just prayed he could forgive you as you were just trying to survive. 

You didn't waste any time. As he started to get up you looked around frantically to find the cleaver and once you found it you turned around to look at Thomas again. He got so close to you without even noticing and without even thinking about you swinging the cleaver against him, giving him a nasty deep gash across his torso. He backed away again, holding the wound and panting heavily as soft moans of pain left his mouth. His gaze was clouded with hate as he watched, his features contorted in anger as he charged again towards you. 

You ducked, dodging his arms and using all your strength and his lack of balance against, straight up pushing into his body to slam him onto the ground. You both fell, and you ended up on top of him, his whole body softening your fall while his head just slammed hard against the floor blurring his vision with pain. Everything around him was spinning and he felt his limb weighing ten times more as he hardly managed to make out your form on top of him from the dark as you immediately straightened yourself up. 

Your chest raised and filled heavily as tears now we're running, feeling down your eyes, your hand holding the weapon raised above your head as every piece of yourself got eaten up by the sickening guilt you were feeling. His eyes as soon as they got a clear vision of what was happening widened in terror. For the first time and last time Thomas knew what the victims felt as the cleaver swinger down at him one, two, three times.

You screamed and your eyes were blinded with big fat tears as you kept going with your assault at him, blood spilling everywhere staining your hands and clothes while his hands fighted back in an attempt to stop you. 

The adrenaline of the moment was giving you enough strength but as soon as you felt his arms go limp onto the floor, you stopped. You sobbed uncontrollably, your whole body shaking so much you felt dizzy and the sight before you was making you sick to your stomach.

Almost as if it was scorching hot you let go of the cleaver and crawled away from his body, covering your mouth with one hand and shutting your eyes close, trying to wake yourself up from what you were able to describe only as a nightmare. 

"I-...I'm sorry..i- i- I'm SORRY" you screamed so hard until you hurt your throat. You had to get out of there, you had to go so far away from there now cause if you stay another second the guilt is going to win over and all of this would be for nothing. You scrambled up on your shaky legs, taking in your hands the knife once more and without even daring to look at him you made your way upstairs. 

You could say to yourself that maybe you did him a favour but you knew very well that it wasn't the case..you just did what you needed to survive and that was the only believable truth. You just hoped, as you crossed the door, that Thomas was the only one you would have to kill to get away. 

[vendettaparker]

You Say the Whole World’s Ending (Honey, It Already Did) [P.P]

Summary: Peter mourns his greatest loss.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Character death, angst, typos, throwing up

a/n: hi! i’m genuinely so sorry for how sad this is lol. i had to write this idea down before i forgot it. that one bo burnam song really got me :( here it is if you want to hear it! hope you enjoy and as always reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! ok. back to my hiatus :)

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“Today, the world mourns the loss of one of the most innovative teens in existence,” The news reported stated with tears in her eyes, “Last night, (Y/N) Stark was found dead after going missing for three months. The cause of death has not yet been disclosed and her family asks for privacy during this time of grieving. The world shares in this pain, and I believe I speak for all of us when I say, (Y/N), you will be missed.”

The clouds muddled over the compound, creating a darkness that sheathed over the building while the rain pittered over the roof and windows. As cliche as it was, Pepper and Tony provided black umbrella to all the guests at the graveyard. Together they huddled over the casket with their umbrellas, attempting to keep the rain off of the perfect mahogany the best they could.

Morgan clung to her mothers leg and scratched at her neck, uncomfortable in the pearls she was forced in, too young to understand what she had just lost. Tony kept his arm around Pepper, trying to hold on to what family he had left, begging whatever god was out there to give him respite from his pain.

Pepper gripped her umbrella with an iron fist, recalling when she first met you. Small and shy as you were, you quickly warmed up to her as she showed you to your room.

“Is this her?” Pepper asked as you cowered behind Tony’s leg, a small backpack hung loosely on your shoulders.

“Yeah,” Tony nodded with a proud smile, “this is (Y/N).” Tony bent down, motioning for Pepper to join him as she greeted you with a warm smile. “This is Pepper, (Y/N),” Tony placed a hand on your shoulders, “she’ll help watch you when I’m away.”

You nodded and held your hand out to her. Pepper grasped it in her perfectly manicured fingers and held it tightly, “I think we’ll be good friends,” she smiled, giving your fingers a sweet kiss.

Pepper not only lost her daughter; she lost her best friend as well.

Peter couldn’t even go. May begged him to go, trying to pull him out of the rut he’d been in for the last three months. She did the best she could, but deep down she knew. She knew all too well the pain of losing your soulmate, and as young and naive as Peter was, he still managed to find that in you.

Peter felt hopeless. He had held out hope for months, thinking that by some miracle you;d get to come home. That you’d walk through the door and run up to him, pulling him into your warmth and smashing your soft lips onto his. Every night he dreamed of you. Your laugh and your jokes. The way you scrunched your nose when he said something stupid, but then laughed along with him. The way you’d ruffle his hair as he laid in with his head nuzzled in your chest. The way you’d rush into school so fast, you nearly knocked him over when you found him. Those dreams, or more so, memories kept him going. And now he had nothing.

He was stuck in a world without you. And at a certain point, he wondered if it was even worth living in. He was wrong. He used to think that good things happened to good people, but he was wrong. You were as good as it got and you still ended up in the ground.

“Peter,” Sam said from the other side of the call, “you gotta come to the compound.” He hung up before Peter could even get a word in, but when he arrived at the building, he understood why.

Sam met him at the door, tears crusted around his dark eyes, and the look he gave Peter evoked immediate dread.

Peter could hear Pepper’s screaming sobs from inside. The cries of all the Avengers filtered through his ears into his head like nails on a chalkboard. And as unsettling as it was, he knew.

Sam guided him through to the medbay, and part of him secretly hoped he was wrong. It wasn’t until he held your cold hand in his overly warm ones that it hit him. And then the screaming started.

“No,” Peter murmured as the tears began dancing around in his vision, “no, no, no.” Peter shook his head, “I-It’s not her.” He said, but it was more of a terrible wish he put out into the universe, “please, it’s not—no. She’s strong—stronger than that, she wouldn’t—I-I don’t understand.”

Peter whipped his head around and the whole team could see the tears uncontrollably flowing out of his eyes as he heaved. The hyperventilating, mixed with the cries of everyone else in the room was making him nauseous. Before he could properly process what was going on he was running to the window, throwing it open and spewing brown goo out into the yard.

Happy ran over and rubbed his back and shoulder, “It’s okay, Pete. Come on now, breathe.”

Peter screamed and heaved out sobs as more brown chucks spilled from his lips. When he was done, he collapsed into Happy and the large man wrapped his arms around Peter’s shaking frame.

“I–It’s not true,” Peter begged, “Happy—” he pleaded, only to be shushed.

“I know,” Happy cried, “I know it’s hard, Peter. But you have to calm down.”

Tony, having just lost his daughter, saw Peter’s breakdown and left the room. Pepper by his side, drawing her cries out in his t-shirt.

“H-How can I?” Peter wailed, “I want her back, I want her back! (Y/N)!” Peter crawled out of Happy’s embrace, up the bed that held your limp frame. He tugged on the sheet that Bruce had put over your head, ripping it to expose your beautiful face.

“No,” Peter cried, sloppily running his hands over your face, “no, (Y/N).” Peter rubbed his thumbs under your eyes and held his cheek against yours, only feeling the icy prick of your skin on his, “come on, please get up, please. I-I had so many things to tell you. I had s-so much left to—I—I never got to marry you, (Y/N), please. Please d-don’t leave.”

Every watery plea was only met with a painful silence on your end. The only sounds to accompany the dreadful silence were the wails coming from the boy’s mouth.

And now he was here, sitting alone in his room, on the same bed you used to cuddle him in. If he tried really hard, if he focused enough he could still smell the lavender shampoo you used. It was such a little comfort, but it was all he had.

May accompanied Happy to the funeral, letting him rest his head on her as the tears flowed from his eyes.

“She was so special,” Happy recalled with a sniffle, “so special.”

“Yeah,” May whispered, swallowing her own sob, “in more ways than one.” She placed her yellow rose on the casket, blowing a little kiss to it with a small prayer, thank you. Thank you for being Peter’s love.

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✧tags & moots✧ @ptersmj @princessofguineapigs @peterbenjiparker @cherrytholland @itsapeterthing @justapurrcat @thirstiestpotato @kelieah @iovebug  @waitimcomingtoo  @rosyparkers  @parkers-gal @allegra-writes @starktonyx  @celestialholland  @hollandcrush  @londonspidey @blissfulparker @spidernerdsblog @spidey-sophie @spideyspeaches @peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology @andilovetowrite @sinisterspidey @asonofpeter @westcoastcigar @arlo-sanders @love-peterparker @boiolay @letssee2468  @white-wolf1940 @fandom-life-12 @hollandsdream @annathesillyfriend @lovelybarnes @miseryholland @wierdteenagenerd @duskholland @hollandprkr @lauras-collection @arvinsescape @hollandsrecs @worldoftom

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Slumbering Hearts (Alcina Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 1

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language/brief nudity Warnings: None Summary: In a wicked twist of fate, you find out your soulmate is none other than your employer, Lady Dimitrescu. To your misery, she (at first) seems equally displeased, her heart already belonging to another. But in time, the two of you find yourselves wondering... could the universe be right, after all? Soulmate AU in which every person has a unique "soul mark", which they share with their soulmate. Notes: Reader is gender neutral, but at some points will be described as leaning towards being feminine (due to personal interpretation of Alcina's character). Additionally, Lady D will eventually be referred to by her first name, so don't worry if you feel weird about her being called by her full title all the time, it's just for this chap, when the reader isn't familiar with her. Lastly, this contains a bit of one sided Alcina/Miranda, which serves as a plot point, but is (clearly) not the primary ship.

1: In The Shadow Of Giants

Three months, two weeks, and one day. That’s how long you’ve been at this accursed castle, serving cruel mistresses, having been plucked from your peaceful life in the village. Anger stains your every thought, slowly festering inside your chest. There is no cure, at least not without a fatal price, but there are mild remedies. ‘Tis not long before the other servants learn to give you the more physically demanding chores. Nothing numbs your mind quite the same way that chopping firewood does, though you often settle for hard scrubbing age-old tile. Every day ends with your muscles crying from the effort of it all. Every day… except today. Another servant, from the night shift, has been wounded severely, and her job was deemed too important to be foregone.

And, as such, she has been replaced. By you. For once, you turn in early, long before your clothes can become stained with sweat. Yet you aren’t happy, not when you know that this change will ruin your sleep for weeks to come. Even worse, it’ll be impossible to avoid your ‘employers’, whereas working the day shift meant almost never seeing them. So far, you have only seen them on four or five occasions. Hell, you’ve only met two of them, being Cassandra and Bela. Based on what others told you, the other two weren’t much (if at all) better. As you try your best to get some rest, only a single ‘positive’ thought runs through your head: Well, worst comes to worst, I’ll get killed, then I won’t have to worry about anything anymore.

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“Remember: No talking unless you’re asked a question. The Mistress has had a rough morning, and this is her best chance at relaxing,” Juniper explains, for what seems like the eighth time since the two of you met. There’s a nervous energy around her, which does little to ease your own anxieties. If you heard correctly, she’s only been at the castle for a couple weeks, having previously worked for Mother Miranda. You’re not sure what would have caused the transfer, considering most who were ‘fired’ ended up dead. Something told you that it had to do with antsy nature. “Oh, and don’t leave unless dismissed, even once your part is done. We all need to be ready, in case Mistress- I mean, Lady Dimitrescu needs something. Sorry, I’m still getting used to how things work here.”

“As long as you don’t slip up in front of her and get us both killed, I don’t really care,” you replied, giving Juniper a level stare. Clearly unsure how to respond, she pauses for a moment, mouth opening then closing without a sound. Once she’s seemingly composed herself, you give a short nod and push open the door to the bathroom. Two other servants are already inside, and they flinch at your arrival, briefly mistaking you for their boss. “I can hardly believe they made me change shifts for this,” you add, under your breath, rolling your eyes. What was so important about making sure a few candles stayed lit? During bathtime? Maybe it was something you had to be a giant, vampiric noblewoman to understand. Regardless of your annoyance, you quickly get to work, striking the first of a couple matches. It’s a rather dull task. To think you would have preferred heavy labor to this.

Before long, the last flame springs to life, and Juniper dims the lights, allowing the candles to become the focus. At least one is scented, though you cannot place the specific kind. Less than a minute after the last one is lit, the door once again swings open, revealing your most elusive employer. She’s… more than you anticipated. In every conceivable way, truthfully. Taller, more graceful (even as she has to duck through the entrance), and, as much as you hate to think so, far, far more beautiful. If not for the warm lighting of the room, you would have worried about someone seeing your blush. Certainly I am not the first to react this way, you think, as you bow alongside the others.

“Yes, yes, get on with it,” Lady Dimitrescu says, with a sharp frown. Then she moves closer to the tub, which you imagine could fit half a dozen ‘normal’ people, and holds out her arms to her side. For a moment you’re confused, but you instinctively mimic the motions of the other maidens. Together the four of you reach for her robe, gently taking hold of it while she steps into the bath, before hanging it onto a nearby hook. A second later your entire world is turned upside down. You’re freezing in place, eyes wide, as the bare back of Lady Dimitrescu reveals itself to you. Yet this is not an instance of poorly veiled lust. No, it is equal parts horror and repulsion, for you find yourself staring at a distinctive soul marking.

One that matches your own.

Beside you, Juniper watches you with concern, silently urging you to stay silent. Neither of the other two servants seem to react, other than by taking a small step backwards. Unable to speak, let alone form coherent thoughts, all you can do is point a trembling finger towards the soul mark. It’s right in between Lady Dimitrescu’s shoulder blades. Once upon a time, you had marveled at the design, smiling every time you saw it in the mirror. Now, it might as well be the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen. Based on her expression, Juniper seems to agree, although for different reasons. As your hand drops back to your side, you try to compose yourself enough to focus on the task before you. Instead, someone breaks the quiet, boldly, daring to think that they would be rewarded for it.

“My Lady,” a servant says, stepping forward, shooting you a waywards glance. Instantly she has your employer’s attention, though that comes with the metallic sssssslk of her claws extending. There’s an unspoken threat that demands respect. None comes, however, just the frenzied words of a panicked maiden. “I know who your soulmate is, my Lady. I thought that perhaps you’d-”

“A name. Give me… a name,” Lady Dimitrescu interjects, claws still out and impatiently tapping on the tile floor. Tense, you start to step forward, wanting desperately to silence the treacherous maiden. But her tongue is faster than your fist, and soon enough your name is echoing through the room. “Oh? The one right behind me, hmm? Dreadfully convenient, really. Step forward, dear, and let me see the proof. Assuming it exists.” All eyes other than hers are on you, now. With a deep breath, you begrudgingly step in front of Lady Dimitrescu, trying not to even briefly glance at her chest (or worse, lower). One of her hands shifts, a long claw tilting your chin up. “Well?”

“Forgive the placement,” you mutter, awkwardly grabbing your shirt collar, tugging it down to reveal your soul mark, planted neatly on the center of your chest. If Lady Dimitrescu’s gaze wanders, it does so too quickly to be noticed, though she does make a low humming noise at the sight. Feeling much like a piece of meat on display at the butcher’s, you scowl deeply. Soon enough, but not as soon as you’d like, the claw under your chin retracts, and you once more cover up your soul mark. You can’t bring yourself to look your soulmate in the eyes.

“Hmm. Not what I expected. Not at all,” she muses, more to herself than to you, softly. Behind her, Juniper is sending you a sympathetic expression. All you can do, as Lady Dimitrescu judges you, is glare at the origin of this revelation. What did she think to gain by speaking up? Hadn’t she heard the same rumors that you had? Didn’t she know that your employer already loved another, even if that affection was unrequited? There was, simply put, no chance that you were the preferable option. Not when there was no race against neither time nor death. At best, you could be a distraction. Something to keep her mind off of the person she’d rather be with. “Go clean up, get some sustenance if you must, then go to my quarters. We will discuss this further there- after I am done here.”

With that said, she waves you off, letting you relax for the first time in several minutes. After giving a short bow, you immediately move to leave. On your way, you intentionally bump shoulders with the maiden who spoke up, sending her a glare, then give Juniper a nod of acknowledgement. Nervous wreck or not, she was the only person you ‘knew’ on the night shift. Not that such a thing would even matter soon. To think that we’ve been soulmates this whole time, you think, living in the same castle for months, never seeing each other. I wish things could have stayed that way. At least you’d have some time to process your developing situation. Though you doubted you’d have enough time.

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In an unusual change of pace, Alcina dismisses the rest of her servants, long before her bath is done. They exchange glances before scattering to the winds. A heavy sigh leaves her lips, and she sinks lower into the tub. Of course I have a soulmate, she thinks, bitterly. I knew this. Knew that it wasn’t her, and yet still, I find myself surprised. Disappointed, even. How had an already rough evening gotten even worse? More than that, what was she supposed to do about it? There was a part of her that wanted to kill her soulmate. She figured that, with them out of the way, the universe might finally understand who she was meant to be with. After all, it wasn’t uncommon for ‘widows’ to be given a new match, and those were generally other ‘widows’. Considering that Alcina knew for a fact that Mother Miranda’s soulmate had long since died, she did not think that her hopes were beyond possibility.

But there was another part of her, quieter, that dared to be more realistic. If the universe said that this human, this tiny thing, was her soulmate… would it not make sense to at least try? What harm could it do, when her current love had been unrequited for so long? Was this not the end to several decades of loneliness? Damn it, she thinks, gripping the edge of the bathtub until her knuckles turned white. There was no denying it, now that a single drop of rational thought had corrupted her mind. Fuck it all, I hardly have a choice. Or anything to lose, for that matter. With her decision made, she rises to her feet, emotionally ready to face the unknown.

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“Ah, so you do follow directions, after all. I half expected to learn that you had attempted to flee, or perhaps had a gruesome run in with one of my daughters,” Lady Dimitrescu chimes, as she ducks into her room. Inside, standing at attention, you await. All of your earlier nervousness returns, though this time it is tinged with your natural rage. Of all the monsters in the world, this was the one you were expected to love. It mattered not how tall she was, or how sharp her nails could be, or how fierce her loyalty to Mother Miranda. To you, it mattered that you had no choice in being here, that only a handful of servants had come to the castle willingly. It mattered that a single mistake could mean a cruel death. So you did not greet your soulmate with a smile, or excitement, rather with a forced bow and blank expression. Better to be dead than to fake true love. “Come now, do at least pretend that you are excited, for my sake. I have been waiting a century for this, after all.”

“Perhaps the universe found it difficult to find someone who could love you,” you say, the words tumbling out of your mouth, instant regret boiling up inside of you. What you expect is a swift death. What you get? A deep sigh, a scowl, a look of frustration. Still fearing your possible demise, you are quick to keep speaking. “Or maybe the universe heard me talk once, and struggled to find someone to tolerate me. Countless possibilities, a galaxy full of mysteries… and here we are. Forgive me for being crass, my Lady. I would blame it on my schedule change, but something tells me you would see right through that lie, yes?” Not like that was much better, you think, wondering how the hell you were going to survive this.

“You’re quite the character, aren’t you?... Do try not to make me regret this, I’d rather not kill my soulmate. Now, sit down, it’s about time for a proper introduction,” Lady Dimitrescu commands. Then she’s sitting on the edge of her bed, gently patting the spot next to her. Joining her is just about the last thing you want to do right now… but you obey nonetheless. Still, you angle yourself away from her ever so slightly, hoping the subtle body language would help you distance yourself from her. There’s something in her expression that tells you she knows exactly what you’re trying to do. “I am Lady Dimitrescu, though you already know that. You may call me Alcina… for now. Behave, or that is one of many privileges I will not hesitate to take from you. Understood?”

It takes all of your willpower to avoid rolling your eyes, but you manage, instead giving a short nod. This’ll be interesting, for sure.

[lazyliars]

Tubbo for the character breakdown? :D

How I feel about this character

c!TUBBO MY BELOVED.

The Sidekick. The Yes-man. The Pawn. The Child Soldier. The President. The Government. The Revolutionary. The Fool. The Scientist. The Husband. The Best-friend. The Leader. The Follower. The Underestimated.

Tubbo is a man with many titles, and as the situation calls for it, he can wear any of them comfortably.

Tubbo is defined, more than a lot of characters, by those titles, and by who calls him by which ones. The roles that he has played over his tenure on the server have left a more dramatic impact on both how he is perceived by others, and his own self-image.

He’s Tommy’s Sidekick and Best-friend - but he’s also Ranboo’s Husband, and Snowchester’s Leader, and A Scientist with Jack Manifold, and an (ex) President to Techno, and a Pawn to Dream.

What's interesting is that this relationship with titles is one he shares with Technoblade, and it's a unique way in which they foil each other. None of either of their other foils really share this dynamic, and to add to it, they both propagate this in each other. The difference is in how they deal with, feel about, and utilize it.

Techno is “The Blade” and “The Blood God,” and he hates it. He feels used, objectified, and reduced to a weapon by these titles. At the same time however, the actions he ends up taking only reinforces the way the average people perceive him – violence, blood and anarchy. The reputation Techno has aqquired often overshadows the person who might prefer to be seen as.

Tubbo on the other hand, tends to slip into the these titles without much resistance. He accepts them, sometimes for better and sometimes for worse. He's happy to be Tommy's sidekick; He takes on the role of President of L'manberg; He accepts Dream's metaphor for himself as a Pawn. But to his advantage, his flexibility within these roles and the ability to put them on and take them off as he pleases gives him a uniquely wide arsenal of social tools.

There is so much more to say about c!Tubbo but If I keep going I could be here for hours...

All the people I ship romantically with this character

I am an enjoyer of his marriage with Ranboo, although I wouldn't call myself a shipper really.

I think their dynamic as two people who value kindness, but who also possess the capacity to be surprisingly ruthless, makes them an unusually dangerous and honestly, somewhat thematically opposed pair.

Tubbo is one of the people on the server who has the longest and most consistent relationship with what Ranboo would consider “sides” which automatically sets him up as a foil. Before even L'manberg, it was Tommy and Tubbo vs. Dream, and Tubbo has always held that loyalty close to his heart, and likely wont be cutting that off anytime soon. As a consequence of this, he naturally adds Ranboo to the list of people “on his side,” quietly, but surely.

Ranboo's somewhat correct, somewhat misidentification of “sides” as the root of all conflict on the server, in contrast to Tubbo, drives him to be more individualistic, “choosing people over sides.” And accordingly, it would be a stretch to call him a member of Snowchester, despite how deeply entrenched he's become in it's founder's life. At the same time, it's clear that Tubbo is one of, if not the most important person to Ranboo out of everyone on the server, and he's willing to do anything to protect him.

All in all, Ranboo and Tubbo end up being an odd couple for a multitude of reasons, who, despite some very core differences in personal philosophy, both end up caring for each other ferociously.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

I would love to be contrarian here, but I just can't. Clingy Duo 4 LYFE!

Tommy and Tubbo's friendship, from the start of their time on the server to the current day, has been one “thing” that I continually return to, and that the story over all returns to. They are the emotional anchor of the server in a lot of ways – both a representation of it's innocent, idyllic past, and it's forward march into a darker future. Whenever the narrative wants to make a story beat feel strong and impactful, they'll often end it by echoing the scene on the bench that started everything, whether or not it's Tubbo and Tommy specifically; their Bond resonates so strongly throughout the DNA of the story that their Bench has become a Symbolic Archetype all in itself, and is something that no longer even requires the two of them present to recall it's power as a representation of Attachments, Loyalty and Platonic Love.

TLDR; Clingy Duo is the glue that keeps the core of the story together, and intentionally or not, most important friendships will end up either paralleling or foiling them by the sheer fact of how impactful their relationship is to the greater narrative.

My unpopular opinion about this character

I don't know how unpopular or not this opinion might be, but I do consider Tubbo to be a darker character than a lot of the content for him I see produced.

One way this expressed: he's incredibly pessimistic. He's a person who lives his life hyper aware of how easy it is to die, and with a full acceptance that, if a worst case scenario should arrive on his doorstep, he would die without hesitation, if he had to.

That isn't to say he isn't invested in preventing that, far from it – but there is an undercurrent of absolute certainty that he is living on borrowed time.

One interesting development on this is how he's expressed this – during the Disc Finale, Tubbo has already accepted his own death. He tells Tommy that he's “done enough” and that he should let him die so that Tommy can have his disc back. He tries to get Tommy to resign, to not fight Dream in the end because he can tell that they've already lost and he doesn't want him to have to die too or suffer more.

Contrast this to Snowchester now – as we've learned that the Nukes have dead-mans switch; a suicide button, that only Tubbo knew about. It's a far more proactive expression of this mentality, a final ace up his sleeve, so to speak, so that if an unwinnable situation should occur again, he can turn it from a loss into sick kind of pyrrhic victory.

It's important to note that Tubbo has not yet projected or pressed this mentality onto others; this is self destruction only, and I do think that says something about him, although it's less positive and more tragic.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

VILLAIN ARC. VILLAIN ARC. VILLAIN ARC.

Okay, as a specific example, there is sooooo much missed potential for Egg!Tubbo (and Egg!Tommy) and I will die on this hill.

Imagine, in a world where Tommy isn't immune: Tubbo gets trapped and infected by the egg, as it offers to grant him the one thing he wants most in the world.

The vines grow around Snowchester, seeping into the cracks in it's walls and then hardening into a scaly form, creating a shell around his home. The ambient radiation causes the egg to grow faster in this area, and form odd spikes that loom outwards from the heart of the town, like blades pointed at anything that gets too close.

Tommy realizes too late what's happened, and when he tries again and again to convince Tubbo to just come with him, please come with him to Church Prime, he’s sure that they can find a way--

--he ends up letting Tubbo lead him, and follows him down to the depths of the egg.

When the doors behind them are covered in thick vines, and the humidity of the room increases, and every breath feels like it draws in clouds of dust, it’s already too late to run.

Tubbo stays with Tommy for the two weeks it takes for his will to break and the egg to infiltrate his mind; it's offers of wealth and vengeance and rebuilding L'manberg and resurrecting Wilbur and making people love him and making him powerful and giving him the whole world--

--all rejected, until finally, in the sickening red haze of Tommy's mind, a single scene; a clear blue red sky, the sun high and bright, a warm breeze blowing in, a bench, the sound of good music, and there--

Tubbo moves and the vines around him creak, having been undisturbed for days. He places his hand on the mass of crimson where Tommy is trapped waiting.

--Tommy grins and rushes forwards, all of the weight in his heart, all of the dread and responsibility and fear and anger and hurt and pain, all of it suddenly gone on the breeze as he takes his place next to Tubbo on the bench.

The Eggpire grows. The vines begin to appear in more vulnerable places – peoples secret rooms, near their pets, wherever they keep their most sentimental objects.

Tommy loves causing harmless mischief, and the feeling of being accepted, of being cared for? It's perfect. Nothing can touch him now, where everything is simple and easy and just the way it should be.

Tubbo knows. It's not a deep feeling, it's not a secret part of himself still in there, still fighting. He knows, and when he sees Bad staring him down, piercing through him, he knows that Bad knows too.

There is no kinship for them. There can't be. That would be too close to rebellion against The Crimson. That would be too close to comfort.

But Tubbo knows quietly. He's not a follower by nature, but he'll follow now, simply because he's seen the most logical way to attain what he wants.

And he and Tommy will make a kinder, safer world then the one the Crimson is eating now.

[s-creations]

The Caring from Others

Gyro has never been good with emotions or understanding people. His younger years not helpful in those categories as he grew up. Good thing life wasn't ready to let him throw in the towel just yet.

Fandom: Ducktales ‘17         Rating: General Audience         Relationships/Pairings: Gyro Gearloose/Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera, Fenro       Warnings/Tags: Other characters are mentioned, How do emotions work? We’re learning today!, A little OOC.

The Father

Gyro doesn’t recall his childhood fondly.

Growing up in a small, back water farming town. A place where advancements, anything ‘new’, was labeled as dangerous. Deemed bad for everyone involved. His parents were less than thrilled when Gyro announced he wanted to become a scientist.

It wasn’t ‘honest work’.

A profession of false tests to make the common folk fearful of everything.

To make them more dependent on the government.

Even if Gyro suggested creating improved tools. Better way to help the farmers in making their jobs easier. Even safer. Every suggestion was just shot down. His parents claimed if their way had worked so well for so long, why change anything?

For 15 year Gyro had to work in secrecy. Knowing if any glimmer of creativity was found, it would be destroyed. Stomped out before it could reach their full potential. Salvation came when, after turning in so many applications, he was accepted into a high level university. Full scholarship and all. Everything was paid for, there was nothing to worry about.

Gyro should have felt some sting when his parents put up no fuss as he left. Happily letting their misfit son go off on his own journey. But Gyro honestly felt nothing but relief as he left that farmhouse behind for good.

While he now had the freedom to create in the open, university had its own issues to contend with. Like being mocked by his peers. Gyro was young and already set up with terrible social skills. It wasn’t better when fellow students deemed it a high priority to ostracize the chicken.  The other students weren’t thrilled that someone younger than them had accomplished so much in their early years. The chicken’s ideas being scoffed at when he presented or attempted to make some connection. Gyro was sure he would have dropped out long ago if not for the continuous support and offered safety from his professors.

It was during Gyro’s last year of university that he was introduced to Dr. Akita. Properly introduced anyway. Gyro was well aware of the other long before this meeting. Having studied the scientist’s work extensively. It was almost like a dream come true when Gyro was offered an internship. A way to work with his idol directly.

How quickly it all turned into a nightmare.

2-BO was Gyro’s biggest accomplishment and regret. The chicken labeled as a mad scientist and abandoned by Akita when the chicken’s creation went rogue. Gyro was thrusted into a world he had no idea how to traverse. He was turned away from every opportunity. All knowing his history, fearful of what damage he was still capable of.

Gyro couldn’t blame them for being so concerned. He was honestly fearful of his own inventions at this point.

It was a surprise when Scrooge McDuck of all people reached out to him. Wanting Gyro to present his ideas to the billionaire and his board members. It was a mounting pile of nerves that was continuously being added to as the day drew closer. The chicken was honestly shocked that he didn’t pass out while presenting. Or from the unnerving quiet when Gyro finished. The buzzards looked unimpressed. Which did not help Gyro’s as yellow eyes stared him down.

“Mr. McDuck, this was a complete waste of time,” the buzzard from the middle spoke, “We are not in need of new hires for the production line. Especially not one with such a...dangerous past.”

Gyro swallowed weakly.

“Nonsense. Who ever said about having Dr. Gearloose here to be part of our regular R&D team.” Scrooge commented casually. He stood from his large, cushioned chair. Making his way over to the quietly panicking scientist. “I’ve been in the market for a personal inventor for awhile now.”

“Please do not tell me this is for your wild excursions sir.”

“Bradford, you’re too worried about keeping finances. Personal and monetary gain cannot be achieved at the same time. I have enough monetary value...for the moment. Now is the time for personal gain.”

“If you are so determined to do this. Could you at least get someone less dangerous.”

Scrooge slammed his cane down. Causing all in the room to flinch.  “How can we expect growth if we cling to the past. Dr. Gearloose cannot be given redemption with no opportunity. I’ve seen his work. Both the bad and the good. I want him working with me.”

“Then I request a trial period. I would like to see a working, safe invention from the doctor here. If he does that, I won’t bring this up again.”

With a smirk, Scrooge gave a nod before facing Gyro. Who’d been honestly confused through the entire ordeal. Who just argues so freely with their boss?

“What do you say Dr. Gearloose? Think you’re up for the task?”

Steeling himself, Gyro gave a short nod. “Yes. Absolutely.”

He could do this. He knew he could. How many ideas had he sketched out when he was younger? Surely there were a number of inventions he could use to impress the board.

The good news was he was right. He was able to dig up multiple sketchbooks he had filled out from his college days that had yet to be used. Now came the trying task of deciding which invention he was going to use. One that was impressive enough to blow those buzzards away. But he could easily make it within the offered window of time. And that it was safe.

He wished Mr. McDuck would have been more forward with what he was looking for. The chicken would at least have a starting point.

Gyro really thought he had a winner when the month was up. More than a little confident when he entered the boardroom, all eyes on him. Giving his presentation with as much vibrato as he could. It was all going, in his mind, quite well. Even Mr. McDuck looked a little smug for Gyro’s success.

Then the machine was turned on.

It gave a warning whine, Gyro actually leaning in to see what the issue was. Letting out a choking sound as he was pulled back by Scrooge’s cane. All taking cover when the invention exploded. Leaving the pedestal it had been resting on and the wall behind it with dark scorch marks.

Gyro felt absolutely sick. Wide eyes staring at the spot where his achievement once sat. Only looking away when Bradford slammed his hands down.

“Unacceptable! Even a simple request created something so dangerous. I am putting my foot down on this Mr. McDuck.” The buzzard huffed as he stared Gyro down.

Scrooge, on his part, merely seemed unfazed by it all. Taking the time dust himself off. Pulling Gyro up and straightening him out as well before speaking. “Dr. Gearloose. Would you mind waiting for me in the labs. I need to have a quick discussion with the board.”

Gyro merely nodded. His voice stuck in his throat as he made his way to the elevator. Arms and stomach heavy with his failure. He knew he was fired. His one opportunity was gone. Gyro realized this was his best and only chance at getting any sort of job. A scientist who’s inventions caused more damage and cut off by Scrooge McDuck? Gyro would be lucky if he got a job at Radio Hut after all of this.

He collapses into the first chair he could find in the lab. Laying his glasses on a nearby flat surface and rubbing his temples. At this point in his life, Gyro wasn’t as emotionally blocked as he would later become. But he was learning that breakdowns were seen as weaknesses.

By his parents.

By his classmates.

By Dr. Akita.

So while he wanted nothing more than to hide away. Let this moment of emotional sorrow pass naturally and move on. Gyro had been conditioned to hold it in. Because what scientist falls apart?

He let out a slow breath as the elevator announced it’s arrival. Glasses on and standing as Scrooge made a direct line for him. While showing emotions weren’t allowed, Gyro learned that groveling was acceptable. Something Dr. Akita was quick to teach.

“I am sorry,” Gyro said quickly, “It wasn’t my intention for it to explode.”

“I had assumed so.”

“If given another chance-”

“Lad, you’re not fired.”

Gyro swallowed weakly. Stunned by the name and the announcement. “But...I almost killed everyone.”

“That’s a tad extreme. We would have been maimed. But kill? Doubtful.”

“It exploded!”

“I’ve experienced worse.”

“Mr. McDuck, with all due respect, you’re insane.”

Scrooge waved his hand. “No matter. Why don’t you take a seat.”

Doing as asked, Gyro looked up nervously, hands clenched together as he waited.

“As stated before, you’re not fired. Even after your explosive debut. I know Bradford is a stickler for keeping things ‘safe’. It’s one of the reasons I hired him onto the team. But he doesn’t understand that needed balance of risk and reward. I’m aware of your past. Which I’m sure you’re tired of hearing about at this point. We are our own worst critics. But I also know of your successes, your numerous successes.”

“I want to see you succeed. You deserve to see yourself succeed. I want to give you that opportunity. We’ll need to make sure you can give something to Bradford on occasion to keep him placated. But, other than that, you will have full creative freedom. How does that sound?”

Gyro swallowed hard, trying to keep himself stable. No longer fearful. Now extremely happy. However, he kept himself in check to remain professional. “Honestly, it’s too good to be true.”

Scrooge merely laughed. Clapping a hand on Gyro’s shoulder. “Well, get over that starstruck feeling quick lad. You have a lot of work ahead of you. I trust you can manage from here.”

As he watched Scrooge head back towards the elevator, Gyro realized something. “Um, sir?”

“Yes?”

“Your bet, with Bradford, you didn’t technically win.”

“Technically yes.”

“So...shouldn’t I be fired?”

A smirk appeared on the billionaire’s face, eyes seeming to shine. “Bradford needs to use his words better. He said if he wasn’t impressed, he wouldn’t discuss not keeping you. He never out right said I had to fire you. So, unfortunately, we’ll still need to hear his complaints. But he can’t fire you unless he gives me a good reason. Which I doubt he’ll be able to give.”

“I...thank you, Mr. McDuck.” Gyro weakly answered in disbelief.

“Don’t thank me. Just be the scientist I know you can be.”

“I will sir!”

Turning in the elevator to face Gyro, Scrooge gave a nod and smile. “I know lad. I trust you.”

_____________________________

The Brother

Gyro has always been a loner. He worked best this way. He was able to focus and didn’t have to constantly worry if his partner was doing their work properly. Plus, no one had really tried to include him in anything during his younger years. So he learned that working alone was better for him.

He was very much against the idea of having an intern working in his lab. Which Scrooge flat out refused to take Gyro’s refusal. Meaning the chicken couldn’t deny the hired help no matter how loudly he complained. With the unfortunate addition of the possible literal rendition of sunshine named Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera being hired a few weeks later. Which also meant an increased number of ‘visitors’ to this dangerous lab to see the brown duck. Doing nothing to help Gyro’s frantic state of keeping everything safe and making sure nothing became evil.

Scrooge was a common person to see there. After all, he owned the lab and it was attached to his place of work. Why wouldn’t he arrive to check on progress. To be shown what Gyro was working on. Now, however, the billionaire invited himself in to also check on Fenton. To make sure the intern was actually doing scientific research and not just cleaning the floors.

Launchpad had become friends with Fenton after that B.U.D.D.Y incident. The idiotic driver deciding that wasting time discussing some childhood show was perfectly fine. Gyro honestly tried to not become infuriated. But did he have to waste the interns' time! Even if the chicken didn’t want help from the other. It was the principle of the matter.

This also caused the blue nephew (Dew- something, whatever) to join Launchpad in the lab. Two children or beings with childlike personalities running around in the lab. A place filled with dangerous equipment. It was the perfect place to socialize in, Gyro sarcastically muttered to himself. And Scrooge actually encouraged it! Saying social engagement was good for both Fenton and Gyro. As if the chicken wanted to talk to someone who didn’t know what NaCl was.

So even he was surprised when he started to form a connection with Huey Duck. The red cladded nephew first started showing up to visit Fenton originally. The duckling particularly enamored with the scientist/superhero. Both talking for hours about new upgrades they could possibly make to the suit.

“With you permission, of course! D-Dr. Gearloose.” Fenton would assure with a sheepish smile. Which Gyro would respond with a mere rolling of his eyes.

As time went on and Fenton started to leave more and more due to hero calls, Huey started following Gyro around. The duckling deciding he wouldn't want to leave the labs quiet yet. And Huey wanted to pick the head scientist’s brain with his own ideas. At first, Gyro assumed his ‘wonderful’ personality would drive the other away. Huey, however, didn’t seem to care.

“You don’t have any siblings, do you.”

Gyro raised a brow at that. “Uh, no. At least I didn’t when I was actually living at home. At this point in my life, who knows. What’s your point.”

“My point being that your sullen attitude will have no effect on me. I’m the oldest of three. So, I have to deal with younger brothers. Sour attitudes are an old trick.”

“There really is no getting rid of you.”

“Nope.”

Gyro won’t lie, it was aggravating at first. He already had a shadow in the form of Fenton. Now the chicken was settled with another one that liked to constantly talk and didn’t fear him. Gyro only gave proper notice to the duckling when Fenton came to him with an upgrade for the Gizmosuit. One that sounded good.

“I thought you were busy with your toothbrush idea. When did you have time to think of this?”

“Actually, Huey came up with this.” Fenton answered.

“The red triplet?”

The duck smiled softly. “He’s been around here enough times. I think you can refer to him by his name.”

The chicken wasn’t overly fond of this idea. In his mind, the use of a name means Gyro cared enough to remember. And caring meant he wasn’t truly focused on his work. Something Akita was very adamant that Gyro learned.

But look where Gyro was now. Abandoned by his mentor.

Maybe Fenton was onto something. That felt strange to say.

“Very well. Perhaps I’ll have to try it your way.” Gyro was hit with a wave of confusion by the sudden sweeping sensation that went through his stomach. Fenton’s smile seeming to hit differently that day. But the head scientist filed that sensation away under ‘a later problem’.

Gyro should not have felt a sense of accomplishment seeing Huey’s eyes light up upon hearing his name. The chicken should have cut ties when the triplet sheepishly asked if Gyro could review Huey’s science project. And there should have been no sickening, worry feeling entering his veins when Huey arrived to the labs one day with a black eye.

Fenton, being the caring overbearing person he was, instantly panicked. “Huey! What happened to you? Are you alright?”

Gyro scoffed. “Of course he isn’t. He’s injured.”

“Do we have ice packs?”

“Freezer in the break room. I’ll get the first aid.” The chicken gestured for Huey to follow him. The duckling doing so without complaint. “Come on, take a seat. I need to see where else you’ve been hurt.”

Huey gave no response. Which was starting to become worrisome. The duckling was covered with small cuts and bruises. Gyro thankful it wasn’t worse… Because he didn’t want to waste the resources! Of course. What else would he be talking about.

Fenton came rushing back in. An ice pack wrapped in a hand towel was pressed against the black eyes. “Leave that there for a while. Do you need some pain medicine?”

“Already taken care of,” Gyro answered once again, “Now that all of that’s been taken care of. I think we’re owed an explanation.”

“Dr. Gearloose, just give him a moment.”

“I would like a reason for why Huey,” darn it Gyro said the name, “came to us instead to one of his uncle’s or other family members.”

“He can tell us when he’s ready. Give him a chance to relax.”

“And he can when he tells us- me what’s going on right now.”

“Dr. Gearloose-”

“I was able to skip a level in science.” The adult fell quiet hearing Huey’s whispered response.

“What?”

Huey gestured to his discarded bag. To which Fenton grabs it, handing it over. The duckling opened it and pulled out a familiar notebook that had been shoved into Gyro’s face numerous times. One that held Huey’s numerous sketches and ideas. Except it was destroyed. Practically torn to shreds, almost unrecognizable from what the head scientist had seen before.

“I showed my teachers my notebook. They were really impressed and talked to the principal about me skipping a level. It’s so I could enter the science fair that the upper level students can participate in. They said I had a lot of potential. Uncle Donald was happy, I was happy. My brothers teased me, but I know they were happy for me. I was kind of...blinded by my eagerness, I was under the assumption everyone would just be...okay with this.”

“Your classmates…” Gyro meant to have it sound like a statement. It instead sounded like a sickening realization.

But Huey merely nodded before continuing. “They’ve been writing things on my desk. Throwing things at me. I’ve been ignoring it…”

“Have they...hurt you before?” Fenton asked.

“No. I think they were tired that they hadn’t been getting a response from me like they wanted.”

“Have you told your uncle about this?”

“No… He’s already having a hard time finding a job and fixing the boathouse. I was hoping if I just ignored them, they’d leave me alone. ...I think I’m going to just drop back down to my grade level.”

“You are not going to let those punks win,” Gyro was surprised that he didn’t flinch as two sets of eyes snapped to him, “If you just go running back to your previous classes, you let them win. You’ll give them more fuel to think their actions are right. Especially if you haven’t told anyone about this. There will be no repercussions and they’ll continue to be terrible little creatures.”

“What do I do then?” Huey asked.

“You’re going to tell your uncle, your teachers, your principal, everyone you can. You’re going to come back with even better ideas. And This is a fight you can win because you have support. People who care about you...or something mushy like that.”

Huey gave a nod, rubbing his good eye and giving a blinding smile. “Okay...thank you, Dr. Gearloose.”

Gyro didn’t squirm weakly under the adoring look being sent his way. Or feel any sort of warmth blossoming in his chest knowing he’d helped in some way. Or become flustered at the smile aimed at him by Fenton, who’s eyes seemed to shine with happiness.

“I also know a side step that can break a femur. Very useful to know.”

“Dr. Gearloose!”

A few days later, Huey returned to the labs. Bright eyed and eager to show off his idea. No longer supporting injuries or secrets.

Gyro felt another save of fluster when Huey hugged his legs while Fenton laughed softly as he watched.

_____________________________

The Son

Gyro was surprised so much could change in one day. Well...one day-ish. It was more like three. Point being it felt as if all events had transpired in one day.

2-BO, now named Boyd, entered his life once more. The real boy having befriended Huey. Because of course that’s who would meet Gyro’s used-to-be biggest regret. Then he returned to Tokyolk after 10 years with Fenton, Huey, and Boyd in tow. The original intention was to destroy (Selene above he felt sick thinking about it now) Boyd. Get rid of his past.

Only for his entire perspective to be flipped. The mentor he thought was on his side had corrupted Gyro’s creation. Boyd was never given an option in his original purpose. Turned into a war machine that the chicken never wanted. And Gyro himself realized he was not the mad scientist so many had labeled him as.

He will admit, it was by sheer dumb luck and tapping into emotions he was sure had shriveled up long ago that it all ended so well. Akita was arrested. Going to be put to trial and allowing Gyro a chance to properly clear his name. Boyd overrode all corrupted coding, both Akita’s and Mark’s. Becoming the real little boy he was meant to be. All surviving and heading back home to Duckberg. As he rested in the cushioned plane seat, Boyd resting on his lap, Gyro was hit with two realizations.

The first topic (one which he honestly wanted to focus on much, much later) was an understanding of what Fenton meant to him. Between the fear of possible death and the burn of betrayal, Gyro had felt a deep distress watching the duck fight for his life. Fenton had given his all to protect the city and the citizens. And it almost cost him his life. Something Gyro never wanted to see again. The reason why was something that the chicken was not fully ready to review. Not yet. Possibly in the future, at some point. But he had another problem he needed to worry about now.

The second worry was equally confusing. Possibly because Gyro was still emotionally backed up. He wasn’t quite sure what was going to happen to Boyd. Gyro was made aware by Huey that the other real boy had been living with the Drake’s. A pompous rich family with an arrogant and rather disturbing child. A setting Gyro didn’t want Boyd growing up in. But what was the other option? Gyro himself? Someone who’s never known a stable family life and is not even close to the person Boyd once knew.

He could barely care for himself if Gyro was honest. Living off of multiple cups of coffee and cheap instant noodles. His sleep schedule was non-existent. Social skills were laughable. Gyro had honestly nothing to offer. It was terrible that there was not a better solution to all of this. Boyd deserved so much better than whatever his current care taking options could offer.

Gyro was shocked when, only a few days later, Boyd announced he wanted to live with the scientist.

“I- why?” Gyro winced at how harsh he sounded. But Boyd merely smiled back.

“I just found you. I don’t want to lose you again.”

Well, how was he supposed to say no to that? Gyro’s second bedroom, which once housed numerous boxes, was turned into a proper living space. He lived by a schedule that revolved around Boyd’s activities. Researching meals that both could enjoy and even learning how to properly cook. It was strange, but very rewarding. Gyro didn’t think it would affect him so much.

Until Fenton pointed it out.

“You’re really happy.”

It was a casual comment. But it gave Gyro pause. “What?”

Fenton stalled at that, flushing softly. “Sorry, I mean… I just noticed you seemed to be smiling more. And you’re more relaxed. You’re eating better and well rested. You just look really happy.”

Gyro leaned back in his chair. Tapping his pen as he thought the statement over. “I...suppose I am. Boyd really had changed me for the better, I think. Isn’t it strange...he was once my biggest regret. Now, I can’t see him not being in my life. I do worry that I’m not doing enough. Or that I won’t be what Boyd needs.”

Gyro flushed softly feeling a hand benign placed on his shoulder. Looking up at the beaming face Fenton. “You’re doing a wonderful job Gyro. Don’t doubt yourself.”

The scientist did all he could to not melt into the floor. He takes Fenton’s words to heart. Gyro had worked with Fenton long enough to know the duck wasn’t one to just give false praise. So, if Fenton thought the chicken was doing well, who was Gyro to question the given conclusion.

Gyro’s resolve was truly tested when he received a call from the school Boyd was attending. Apparently the real boy had been in a fight. A fight fight with another student.

Hearing this caused Gyro to panic. Worrying that possibly, maybe, the corrupted programming had returned. Wondering what could have happened for Boyd to act like this. Had Gyro said something sarcastic that the real boy had taken to heart? Was Boyd going to be taken away? Was this a sign that Gyro was not fit to be a caretaker?

The chicken was brought out of his spinning thoughts when someone grabbed his shoulders. Eyes connected to Fenton’s, who’s looking was concerning.

“Dr. Gearloose, you need to calm down. You’re drawing a conclusion with so little context. Just go to the school and hear what happened. Then you can react appropriately.”

“Right… Right, I need to get there.” The chicken mumbled weakly, eyes now frantically scanning the lab for his car keys. Fenton came to the rescue again when said items suddenly appeared in his hands.

“How about I drive.”

“...Yeah. That’s probably for the best.”

The drive was quiet. Fenton focused on the road while Gyro internally panicked. All too soon they were pulling into the school’s parking lot. The area was relatively empty as they walked up to the front entrance. Fenton made a quiet comment about the teachers having to park behind the building. It was a bit of a shock to run into Donald. The duck looked close to an angry snap.

“Hello Mr. Duck.” Fenton offered a smile.

“Fenton,” Donald’s eyes went to Gyro, “Boyd?”

Gyro nodded. “He was apparently in a fight. What about you?”

“Huey.”

What was going on?

The three walked in together, being directed by the secretary to where the principal’s office was. Dewey and Louie were waiting outside. The triplets wearing concerned looks when they looked over to the approaching adults. Donald gave them each a hug with a few words of encouragement before knocking on the imposing door. Gyro’s hand instantly shot out and grabbed onto Fenton’s as his heart raced. The duck gave no complaint. Even giving an encouraging squeeze as they walked in.

The large desk was the first thing to note. Large and imposing, telling all that the person sitting behind it to be respected. Even if the principal himself was a frail little bird. To the right sat a large bulldog boy supporting an arm with fabric wrapped around it. Gyro assumed there was a scrap of some kind underneath the fabric. A wiry female was dotting over the child while a brick wall of a man standing behind them both with his arms crossed.

To the left sat Huey and Boyd. The real boy seemed unharmed. Just appearing extremely nervous and worried. Huey, on the other hand, was supporting a black eye. A bag of ice already pressed on the injury. Gyro needed to research if there were long term effects of multiple black eyes.

Donald instantly broke away from the three, bending down to check on Huey. Gyro walked over to Boyd. Still having a hold on Fenton’s hand.

“Are you okay?” Gyro frantically asked. To which Boyd gave a sharp nod and fell still again. Deciding that was enough of an answer for now, the scientist moved himself and Fenton to behind the seats.

“Thank you all for coming,” the principal began, “I realize this was all on short notice. But we do not tolerate fighting. According to numerous student witnesses, there was a verbal dispute that turned violent during recess. One that resulted in Dennis benign pushed and Huey receiving a black eye. Before I continue, I will ask that you hold all comments and questions until the end. Is this agreeable?”

All adults nodded.

“Very well.” Reaching for something in his drawer, the principal pulled out a cell phone protected by a faded green case. “Louie Duck was able to record the incident and it lines up with the events the other students have provided. Dennis here was apparently using verbal harassment and inappropriate language against Boyd. To which Huey attempted to defuse the situation by walking away. Dennis has responded by throwing a punch. To what ends, I’m unsure, and Dennis has not provided an answer for his actions.”

The chair Huey was sitting in let out a loud noise of protest. Donald gripping the back of it tightly.

“And you well to continue, Mr. Duck?”

Donald nodded.

“Very well. Boyd here reacted to this by pushing Dennis away. The scrap on his arm caused by his fall. Mr. and Mrs. Morris, I’m unsure as to where your son has learned such language and actions. I would advise you to seriously monitor the media and outside influence your son consumes.”

“Oh absolutely,” Mrs. Morris answered readily, “Don’t you fret. We will have a stern talking to Dennis when we get home.”

“That is good to hear. Now, does anyone have any questions about this matter.”

“What exactly did young Dennis here say to Boyd. If I may ask.” Gyro’s voice was even. But, if Fenton squeezing his hand was any indication, his tone was dripping with venom.

“I won’t say specifics as I don’t wish to repeat them. Dennis was making comments about Boyd’s...past. Something about him being dangerous. As well as some...homophobic comments.”

Fenton squeezed Gyro’s hand again, the chicken shaking now. With fear or rage, he couldn’t tell. His own attention had snapped over to Mr. Morris. The father still having his arms crossed and imposing. But Gyro noticed the other’s eyes flitted down to Gyro’s and Fenton’s joined hands. The scowl seemed to become deeper once the father was caught in the action.

“I see. I’m very concerned as to where Dennis would have picked up language like that.” Gyro held eye contact with Mr. Morris until the principal cleared his throat.

“If there are no more questions… Mr. and Mrs. Morris, the actions, both verbal and physical, cannot go unpunished. We do not tolerate this kind of behavior. Dennis will be given one weeks suspension. As well as a written apology letter to both Huey and Boyd. I would also recommend setting up some meetings with the school counselor.”

“Understandable, very reasonable.” Mrs. Morris nodded while Mr. Morris was shaking with, no doubt, rage.

“Very well. Mr. Gearloose-”

“Dr. Gearloose.”

“Ah, apologizes. Dr. Gearloose, I’m aware Boyd was merely defending Huey. However-”

“You’re going to give him detention because he pushed Dennis. Defending himself in a violent way.”

“Ah...yes. Huey will receive no punishment. I hope we’re all understanding of this course of action?” Another round of sharp nods, “Very well, I won’t keep you all any longer. Mr. Duck, here is Louie’s phone. Thank him for providing me with his phone. All are excused for the rest of the day.”

It was tense walking out. The Morris’ were leading the way. But Gyro kept a tight grip on Fenton as Mr. Morris kept glancing back with a dark scowl. Something Gyro was not a fan of. It didn’t reach a head until they entered the parking lot. Away from the front doors and the cameras.

Mr. Morris turned and stalked over to the mismatched group. Gyro more than ready for the awaiting confrontation.

“I know you, Gearloose. I’ve seen your name in the paper before. You’re an absolute menace in every possible way.” Eyes darted back down to the still clasped hands.

“Yet I’ve accomplished more than you could ever hope for in your miserable life. Your need for constant approval has clearly made you bitter. Because you’d rather stomp out any spark of joy than attempt to change yourself or your family. If this incident was any indication.”

Mr. Morris let out a low growl. Gyro fully expecting to be decked as well. Only to be shocked when Fenton stepped between the two. The larger looking down with a raised brow.

“And who are you.”

“He’s my emotional support duck.” Gyro answered.

“Do you really think a confrontation on school grounds will reflect well in any way,” Fenton said, “I would suggest you step away from this now.”

Mr. Morris popped his shoulder, his scowl set. From behind, Mrs. Morris gave a clear and harsh cough. Her husband benign sent a hard stare of his own when he turned to look back. It was a silent, but brief conversation between the two of them that ended with the husband shuffling back over to his family. No one from the group relaxed until the pink mini-van drove away from the parking lot.

“So what exactly was your plan here?” Gyro frowned at Fenton, “I don’t see the Gizmoduck armor on you.”

“My body reacted before I could really...think.” The duck laughed sheepishly.

The head scientist merely rolled his eyes before turning to Boyd. Who looked back with worried eyes. “You okay?”

The real boy shifted nervously. “He called me a weapon and...I really tried not to fight. I tried to ignore him. But he...he pushed Huey and I got really mad… What if he was right?”

“He absolutely is not right.”

“Gyro.” Fenton whispers, in the same tone that told the chicken he was sounding harsh. The head scientist was thrown off for a moment hearing his name and not his normal title. Tuck that moment of broken mind away for later.

Gyro let out a slow breath before kneeling down and placing a hand on Boyd’s shoulder. “Boyd, you know who you are. I know who you are. You are not a weapon or a mindless machine. You are a real little boy. And you need to remember that, because you are going to meet a lot of people like Dennis. Closed minded and very ignorant. Saying anything they can to make you feel miserable and make them feel better.”

“However...you have people in your life who know you. Truly know you. Those are the people you need to listen to. Because they are going to make sure you believe in yourself. Understand?”

Boyd blinked as he thought the statement over. Eyes darting over to Huey, the triplets watching as Donald shouted at someone over the phone. No doubt having called up the principal or someone higher up in the schooling system to complain about the interaction in the parking lot. The red cladded triplet looked over to Boyd, giving a small smile and a wave. Which the real boy returned happily.

“I understand, Dad.”

Gyro swallowed weakly, pulling the small form closer while trying to keep his emotions in check. A weight on his shoulder drew his attention back to Fenton. Who had bent down as well with a smile on his face. The chicken smiled back in appreciation.

_____________________________

The Lover

Gyro knew this realization was a long time coming. No matter how many times he tried to deny it. Tell himself emotions were useless weights. He reached the point where he couldn’t hide the fact any longer.

Gyro had fallen in love with Fenton.

Which is not something he really wanted to focus on.

Gyro was sure he was becoming addicted to Fenton’s laugh. The head scientist had a mental category that each laugh fell into. A hard exhale through the nose was a sarcastic laugh if Fenton found something ridiculous but didn’t want to say anything. Hiding behind his clipboard with shoulders shaking meant he found something online but didn’t want to disturb the quiet. Small chortles seemed reserved for Gyro, the duck finding the head scientist’s dry humor funny. His full laugh was used with abandonment when he knew he wouldn’t be reprimanded for being so loud. Which was honestly more often than not anymore. Gyro found he loved how the sound would echo in the labs. It was almost like music.

There was also a list of body ticks that always caught Gyro’s eyes. Gently tapping the eraser of his pencil against his bill as he thought through a new problem. Tilting his head to the side with his hip occasionally cocked to the side as he looked over a blueprint. His brow would furrow when he concentrated hard on a situation. The top of his tongue would poke out when he reached ‘Gyro level’ of focus. His nose would crinkle when he silently found something amusing or disgusting. Which could only be determined by how brightly his eyes would shine.

Gyro could privately say, to himself, in his head, that Fenton honestly kept him grounded. The number of insults he would have hurled at the media dwindled when he thought of how disappointed the duck would be. The chicken had substantially cut back on the cups of coffee he would consume in one day when Fenton made a comment about being worried about his heart. He was surprised when he went to the duck to look over a new design, wanting feedback. Fenton beaming with each new time he was included in something. Gyro would counter saying Scrooge had warned the chicken he wasn’t utilizing Fenton to his fullest ability. Which was partially true. But he would be lying if Gyro wasn’t also looking for that blinding smile of adoration to be sent his way.

So, yes. After all the mental and physical lists he created. The pros and cons to having a relationship with anyone. Countless nights where he would lie awake knowing he was nowhere near worthy enough to have Fenton. Gyro knew he was in love with the duck.

The problem was moving forward with this revelation.

In all honesty, admitting it just made it all more bothersome. When Gyro still had his walls up, he could blame the rapid heartbeat as some symptoms of an onset illness. Just push the problem away to keep working. But having Boyd back in his life made him realize how bottling his emotions had become so damaging. Making Gyro more aware of what he was missing.

So now he was left to tread water. Wondering who he trusted well enough to ask for help.

There weren’t that many options with the Duck family. He and Donald had never really gotten along before the Spear of Selene incident. And Gyro was sure the duck still held some hostility towards him about the incident. While Gyro would consider Della the closest person to be a ‘childhood’ friend, she was dealing with her own issues. The kids were far too young to be considered as an option. Launchpad only had two rocks rolling around in that empty head, so any advice from him was not worth the headache. M’ma Cabrera? ...Selene above no. Even Gyro wasn’t that insane.

So that only left...Scrooge McDuck. This could not be considered a work appropriate topic. But the chicken was honestly at his wits end and needed help. The billionaire was his last and only option. It was with a heavy stone in his stomach that Gyro approached the familiar office doors. Knocking on them and only entering when he heard the familiar call out to do so.

“Ah, Gyro! What can I do for you?” Scrooge asked as the chicken sat across from him.

“I...need some advice.”

Scrooge paused in his writing, raising a brow as his full attention went to Gyro. “Advice on what?”

The chicken swallowed weakly. “Uh...romantic advice?”

“I see…” The billionaire placed his pend down. Clearing his throat, Scrooge sat up a little straighter in his chair. “Well, I will admit that I have not been very successful in my own love life. But I can offer help in any way I can. So, who’s the lucky person?”

Gyro swallowed again, feeling his face become flushed at the question. Doing all he could not to groan, he answered, “It’s Fenton.”

“The Gizmoboy? Really?”

Gyro nodded, not looking at Scrooge. His face on fire. “I just don’t know what to do. I’m aware that things have been going well and I don’t want to ruin it. But I feel like I’m going crazy! My heart is always going so fast when he’s near. I want to tell him, I really do. But...I also don’t think I’m the kind of person he deserves…”

Scrooge let out a heavy sigh as Gyro’s shoulders slumped. “I won’t act as if I’ve known you for your entire life. We both know I haven’t. But I have seen you at your lowest point and every triumph you’ve accomplished along the way. I’ve seen you slowly close in on yourself. It pained me to watch because I wasn’t sure how to help…”

“Let’s be honest sir. We both have not been in great positions emotionally for a while.” Gyro commented weakly. One that got a laugh out of Scrooge.

“This is true. But, the point is you have made a change in the past few months. I know you’ve built walls around yourself. I also know...bringing those walls down can be a terrifying idea. You’ve already started thanks to that boy of yours. Even if it was unintentional.”

“But what if he says no? I don’t know… There are too many variables that could offer a negative outcome.”

“That’s the risk of life. The good and the bad.”

“So what if he says no.”

“Then you move forward.”

“...I don’t know if I will recover.”

“Gyro, you’re putting the horse before the cart. And we’re still building the cart.”

Letting out a small groan, Gyro rubbed his forehead before looking back up. “Okay. So I’m taking a risk. We’ve determined that. But what do I say to him?”

“You just ask him.”

“Could you please not make it sound so easy.”

“It sounds easy because it is. You’re asking Fenton out on a date. Not defusing a bomb.”

“Yet the latter seems easier to accomplish.”

“Take the risk Gyro. Don’t waste your life wallowing on the ‘what-ifs’. You’ll regret it.”

Gyro left the office with not many answers and a pounding headache. But with determination to try and make this work in some way.

The bottom drawer of his desk was now filled with blueprints. Not for machines, but the best plan to ask Fenton out. The perfect places to go. All ranging from the cliche to the outlandish. What day would work best. His feathers became further ruffled as he worked. After a week of no progress, Gyro knew this wasn’t going to work. No reliable variables or knowledgeable outcomes. He just needed to do this. Because Gyro couldn’t stay in this mindset anymore.

Gyro’s first move was to wait for the lab to be empty. If he was going to crash and burn, he didn’t want an audience. Once that was achieved, he took a deep breath to settle his heart (didn’t work) and walked over to Fenton’s desk. The duck breaking from his thoughts hearing Gyro clear his throat.

“Hello Dr. Gearloose. What can I help you with?”

Gyro’s heart seemed to pick up it’s pace. Between the smile and wide eyes, the chicken felt like he was melting. In a good way. If that makes sense. None of this did.

Emotions were just so messy.

Darn it Gyro, focus!

“I...was wondering if you would be interested in conducting a...social experiment with me.”

“Oh, uh, sure! Of course. What’s the experiment?”

Another deep breath. “There is a new cafe that’s opened up recently near where I live. I am curious if you would like to join me in trying the products they offer. Sometime this weekend, possibly Saturday? Possibly trade some stories?”

Fenton’s head tilted to the side as Gyro spoke. A small smile forming as the other finished. “Dr. Gearloose-”

“Gyro. You...you can call me Gyro.”

“Okay, Gyro. Would it be safe to assume that this is an ask for a date?”

“That...would be a safe assumption.”

“Then I accept.”

Gyron was honestly shocked he was able to remain standing. Relief hitting him quickly upon hearing the answer. “Good, good.”

“How about I drop by your apartment around 8? Have breakfast at this cafe?”

“That’s acceptable.”

“Good. I look forward to this Saturday.”

“I am as well.”

One date turned to two. Which turned into three. Which became having dinner at the Crackshell-Cabrera household. Gyro was shocked when he received M’ma Cabrera’s blessing in  dating her son. But not before getting a stern warning of what would happen if Fenton was hurt in any way.

“I think that was successful.” Fenton commented as they were sharing their good-byes for the evening on the front porch.

“Yeah. Nothing says accepting like a talk that ends in the threat of my kneecaps.” Gyro smiled softly hearing the other chuckle.

“Well, she may or may not be upset still about your MoonVasion comment. You know. About throwing Gizmoduck into the masses as a sacrifice.”

“I may now also regret that comment…”

Another laugh from Fenton, the duck reaching down to gently take Gyro’s hand. Placing a kiss on the back of it before holding it close. “I’m glad you came. I think M’ma really appreciates it as well.”

“I’m happy I came as well… You know...I don’t say or do things that intentionally hurt you. I did at first but-”

“Gyro.”

“Yes?”

“I know you better now than I did before.”

And the matter was dropped.

The first kiss milestone occurred at the park around the holidays. Both bundled up against the cold and falling snow as they admired the strung holiday lights hanging from the numerous trees. Arms hooked, Fenton led the way with wide eyes. Giving small comments about the lights and how lovely the park was decorated. Gyro was admiring the duck himself. Loving how the lights fell over the brown plumage. Fenton eventually caught on that the chicken wasn’t looking at the light as he was. Flushing softly seeing eyes on him.

“W-What?” The duck laughed, a small smile forming.

“You’re beautiful.” Gyro responded softly. Fenton’s eyes widened at the comment before softening into another smile. Gyro put up no restraint as he was gently pulled down. Fenton leaning up and meeting the chicken in a gentle kiss. It was only a few seconds, but Gyro loved every moment of it.

The utterance of the three words came a few months into them dating. Fenton had arrived back to the labs after an intense battle to find a worried chicken. Arms crossed and first aid kit in his hands. There was a sharp point set to the couch and Fenton understood the silent command. Stepping out of the suit and plopping onto the cushioned furniture. Gyro made it clear he was less than pleased at the moment.

“What were you thinking.” The chicken snapped. Hand shaking as he attempted to gently clean the cuts.

“People needed help.”

“Why is that your answer for everything and why do you think it’s a reasonable one.”

“Because it’s true. I have to defend Duckberg.”

“Even against crazies coming from St. Canard? Can’t that purple caped idiot keep them in his neck of the woods.”

Fenton smiled softly. “Villains are people too. You can’t control everything.”

“Don’t tell me that. You know the first thing I’m going to do is make something that controls people to make them leave this place.”

“Gyro, that’s unethical.”

“Well, maybe if you would stop being your heroic self and making me worry.”

“I understood the risks when I took this position. As did you. As long as I have you to come back to, I’ll be okay.”

Gyro huffed as he finished up. Turning to start packing up the supplies. “I love you, but you can be such an idiot sometimes.”

He didn’t catch it until Fenton grabbed his hand suddenly. The chicken looked up to find eyes filled with shock staring at him. “What...did you say?”

Gyro frowned, thinking back to his previous words. Face becoming full blown red when he realized what he’d just uttered. “I… Is it too soon to say that? I’m sorry, I just- I’ve been thinking it a lot and every time you go to your superheroing, I think how I’m not going to get to say it. But I know we haven’t dated for a year and-”

“I love you too.”

Swallowing his words down, Gyro’s head snapped back up to look Fenton in the eyes. They sat, staring at each other in disbelief before Fenton chuckled. Gyro shares his own sheepish grin before leaning forward to claim a kiss from Fenton.

It was close to a year of them dating that Fenton moved in with Gyro and Boyd. The real boy thrilled to have the other doctor living with them. The once small, cold apartment was now teeming with life. Mornings were a rush to get ready for the day and to be out the door before they were all late. The kitchen filled with warmth and wonderful smells as Fenton makes dinner with Gyro helping where he could. Meals being shared at the small dining table before watching a few shows until bedtime. Gyro and Fenton taking turns reading to Boyd before he powered down for the night.

It was a comfortable routine. Something Gyro thought he would’ve hated. But with each day ending with him and Fenton in their shared bed. The younger laying his head on Gyro’s chest and long arms wrapped around him. The chicken realized he wouldn’t want it any other way.

“I think we should buy a house.” Gyro suddenly commented into the darkness. Hearing Fenton hum softly as he was pulled from sleep.

“Where’d this come from?” The duck mumbled weakly.

“I’m not really sure. The boring suburban life seems pleasant after the craziness of...everything. What do you think?”

“I like the idea,” Fenton yawned widely before pressing closer, “We could get a big yard for Boyd and Lil Blub to play in. Neighborhood kids to become friends with. I think Della mentioned about getting a house in a quiet suburb. We could ask her.”

“That place won’t be quiet once that family moves in.”

“Oh hush. Wouldn’t it be nice to have Huey as a neighbor? Boyd would like it.”

“I suppose so…”

Fenton gave another hum, Gyro noticing the other’s breathing was slowing down again. He leaned down to place a kiss on Fenton’s forehead. “I love you.”

The duck laughed softly. Placing his own weak kiss on Gyro’s neck. “Love you too…”

Gyro let out a slow breath, a smile forming on his face. Eyes on the ceiling as he listened to Fenton fall asleep. A hand reached up to preen a few feathers as he pulled the other closer. Heart beating happily as he settled down further into the bed. A smile still on his face as he fell asleep as well.

[kindiekritz]

Get Some Rest, Samurai...

Via Anon Ask; “because im also a sap for Johnny and V- How do you think Johnny would help V cope with a panic attack? Especially when its likely something he's feeling laggy echoes of himself if he's in her head during it? (hurt/comfort is a FAVE of mine and i have anxiety, can ya' tell?)”

B ro,, don’t worry anon bc same here, we are anxiety homies together 👏😔 - This is my first time writing for Johnny Silverhand! Trying to get back on the writing boat, (haven't forgotten my previous fic!) and there's nothing like simping for video game characters to get that inspiration flowing. Do let me know what you think! Johnny may be a bit too OOC in this, I may have gone a little bit overboard with the soft? Ah well, I hope someone will enjoy it regardless :P

Here is the Ao3 Link! :D

V’s time was running out. 

Every time the relic in their head would malfunction, every time they went into a coughing fit and the disgusting taste of metallic blood would fill their mouth, every time he would manifest himself in her head and V would catch a glimpse of his stupid fucking face…

V was reminded of the fact that their time was running out, and fast.

And despite the fact that they were doing everything in their power to stop the construct in her mind from completely destroying her from the inside out, that didn’t stop the fact that she still had to pay the rent. 

In fact, it wasn’t cheap coughing up the eddies to pay Rouge for her services, or having to pay for bigger and better gear that would keep her alive when dealing with Arasaka guards, hell, it wasn’t cheap to keep purchasing more and more bottles of Omega Blockers, the pills were the only thing that kept him from completely taking control. 

She found herself taking more and more gigs, trying to simply keep up with the extra costs of having a completely second personality living rent-free in her mind. But even then… she couldn’t find it in herself to reject or turn away people who needed her help, even if they had little to nothing to offer in return. 

It seemed as if her phone was constantly buzzing with calls and texts of people who wanted and needed her help. No matter where she went or what she did, people needed her services, people needed her time.

And yet, time was something that she had very little left of.

V was exhausted. The bags under her eyes revealed that she hadn’t slept in days, and she couldn’t remember when she last had a proper meal.

She was always on the go, she didn’t have time to take care of herself.

But as she groggily opened the door to her apartment, she thought to herself that… maybe, just maybe… she would finally let herself take a nice, long warm shower.

V was too exhausted to care about the possibility of Johnny potentially staring at her nude form as she stood under the running water. Hell, let him stare for all she cared! The thought of warm water running over her exhausted muscles, washing away the dirt and grime of the city… it was too appealing at that moment. 

She removed her weapon slung across her back, letting her beloved leather Samurai jacket slip off her shoulders and onto the ground, too exhausted to care about putting it away properly. 

The weight of the gun in her hands was normally a welcome and grounding presence for V when she was on a mission, the weapon in her hands keeping her safe from those who wished to do her harm. But now? It felt too heavy, unbearably so, as if the weight would make her topple over onto the floor below. The muscles in her arms were exhausted and spent. As she rotated her shoulder she heard the joints audibly pop. The consequences of pushing her body too far.

She would do anything for the physical ache to go away. 

As she stepped through the door to her armory and switched on the fluorescent lights of the room, her gaze fell upon someone already there, casually lounging atop her workbench and raising a cigarette to his mouth, pausing to speak before inhaling a deep puff of smoke.

“Damn V. You look like shit.”

She rolled her eyes at his comment, and made her way to her weapon locker instead, trying to ignore the weight of his gaze on the nape of her neck.

V fiddled with the combination, her foggy mind struggling to remember the correct numbers and the correct order, her fingers felt clumsy and uncoordinated as she inputs each digit. V cursed herself for making it so damn difficult, but eventually, she finally managed to swing the metal door open, proceeding to put her gun away amongst her collection of stored weapons. 

Johnny hopped off of the workbench, stepping towards V as she organized her storage, resting his metal arm against the locker, using his height to his advantage as he towered over her and confronted her. “No, seriously V, you look like shit. When was the last time you slept?”

“Fuck— Johnny, I dunno… A few days I guess?” V slammed the door of the locker using more force than necessary, Johnny already starting to get on her nerves, the last thing she needed was Johnny Fucking Silverhand following her around like a worried mother hen. V pouted and huffed, blowing away a stubborn strand of hair that had fallen across her face, then turning to meet his gaze, hidden behind wine-colored lenses, and asked, “Why do you care anyway?”

“You’ve been on edge all day, I can feel it. You’re like a string that’s been strung too strongly. I feel like you’re ready to snap at any fuckn’ moment, V.” 

She could feel his stare on her body and the tension in the room was beginning to suffocate her. He was poking at a sensitive topic for her, and he knew it. 

V stuttered, trying to find the right words to say as she couldn't bring herself to look at him in the eye anymore, instead choosing to halfheartedly push him aside and walk away, “Johnny… I’m fine. Really. I just— I just need a shower and a nap, that’s all.”

As V stepped out of the room, the weight on her chest seemed to grow heavier with each step. 

She wanted to crumble, she wanted to cry. 

She just wanted to wrap up herself in a bundle of blankets and cry into an order of takeout. One of those ugly cries that made snot dribble from your nose and your cheeks flushed and red.

She wanted— no, V needed to let everything out.

But… she couldn’t. She didn’t have the time for it, she needed to get back to work soon. Here were people that needed her help and there were eddies to be made. She would let herself rest when she’d gotten that damned biochip out of her head.

It was at that moment when V’s phone began to ring, the sound interrupting her thoughts and causing her to pause in her step.

Almost as if on reflex, she quickly reached into her pocket and withdrew the device, not even bothering to check the caller ID before answering, “V speaking, what do you want?”

“V, it’s Regina. I’ve got another report of a cyberpsycho attack…”

V stopped listening to the voice on her phone, too distracted by the crushing pressure on her chest and the fact that she had begun to tremble and shake like a leaf.

All she had wanted was a hot shower and a night in, was that too much to ask?

After weeks of dodging blades and bullets, running meaningless errands and tasks for just a few eddies in return, spending sleepless nights that left dark circles under her eyes, and going days on end without even seeing her fucking apartment, all she wanted was a night in.

Was that too much to fucking ask?

She could faintly register Johnny’s voice coming from behind her, an uncharacteristically concerned tone in his voice as he asked, “...V? What’s wrong?”

The pressure in her chest grew heavier by the second, her breaths becoming strained and labored as the increasing fear and dread overwhelmed her body. She gripped her phone tightly in her hand, glaring at the device with tears prickling the corners of her eyes.

“V? Are you listening? I said that there’s another report of a cyberpsycho near your current position, are you still—“

With a press of a button, she hung up the phone.

Johnny watched V, her form trembling and shoulders tensed.

In all of their weeks stuck together, he’d never seen his little merc look so small. A real juxtaposition when compared to her usual self; a real fucking hardass, she was the only other person Johnny had ever met that was just as bullheaded and stubborn as himself. 

As much as he teased her about it, Johnny knew one thing for certain. V was strong, V was determined. A damned force of nature and he pitied the bastards that stood in her way.

But despite the cybernetics in her body and the chip in her mind… V was human. V had her limits.

The facade she’d built up for herself couldn’t last forever, and Johnny knew it. He’d sensed the cracks in her resolve grow larger and larger with each sleepless night and after every exhausting gig.

But for a brief second, a thought crossed Johnny’s mind; 

V was fractured… V was broken… V was weak.

And with that thought, V finally snapped.

“I AM NOT FUCKING WEAK!”

V cried out, lobbing her phone at him. It phased right through him, instead hitting against the wall, shattering the screen, and sending the device flying into some unknown corner of the room. 

She froze, her eyes widening in shock, almost as if she couldn’t believe what she had done. The realization slowly setting in after the result of her outburst.

V’s vision blurred as tears welled in the corners of her eyes, she slowly fell to the cold floor, cradling her knees up to her chest and muffling her sobs in her arms.

Johnny watched as she sat in the middle of the room and sobbed. 

She didn’t let herself cry when Jackie had died, she didn’t let herself cry when Vic told her that she was practically dying. V didn’t cry as she carried Evalyn’s bloodied body, and V didn’t cry late at night when she was alone, and her chest felt tight and her throat choked up.

He knew it was coming, he could feel V’s emotions as they bubbled up and reached their boiling point. 

But what truly surprised him, was just how much it hurt him to see his little merc cry.

“Shit— V…” he nervously swallowed his throat, but try as he might, for once in his goddamn existence, he couldn’t find the right words to say.

Johnny didn’t like the way he felt. 

Johnny didn’t like the way she made him feel at that moment.

He didn’t like the way his chest tightened at the sound of each of her sobs. The way he felt so restless as he could only watch her curl onto herself for comfort. He couldn’t stop himself from pacing back and forth across the room, unsure if it was her anxiety or his that was setting him off. 

Johnny could almost feel V’s heart racing in her chest, the adrenaline flooding her veins, adrenaline meant to stimulate a fight or flight reaction. But when the pain and panic swelled from within her own chest, there was nowhere V could run, nobody she could physically fight.

All she could do was sob into her knees, desperately trying to hide her sobs and cries from him, but her own cries easily overpowered her. 

And because of him, she didn’t even feel like she had the ability to freely have a goddamn mental breakdown in her own apartment, even as she choked and sobbed, she tried to grasp onto the shattered remains of her facade. Was it for her sake, or for his?

At that point… neither of them knew.

V couldn’t stop her body from trembling. She tightly gripped onto herself until her knuckles turned white. But V didn’t notice. It didn’t even register in her mind.

She didn’t register the hot tears as they streamed down her face, the shuddering cries that caused her lip to quiver with each breath. She couldn’t recognize that no matter how hard she tried, her frantic breaths caused her lungs to feel as if they were on fire, incapable of delivering oxygen to her body.

V’s mind didn’t even register the fact that Johnny had stopped pacing back and forth.

Her mind cursed at her to get her shit together. V needed to wipe away those tears and she needed to get back on the streets. A moment of weakness could’ve gotten her killed in her past, and now was no different. 

But… the thought of standing up and leaving her apartment caused another fresh wave of sobs to rattle her body.

She was tired… she was so goddamn exhausted… 

“V…”

All she wanted was a night in. Was that too much to ask? After all of her hard work and effort, hadn’t she earned it?

“V, listen to me.”

Clearly, she hadn’t done enough if people were still calling, still demanding her presence. Clearly she—

V felt something warm touch her cheek.

Someone was there. 

Although her mind had stopped temporarily spiraling, she felt the wet salty tears dripping down her face, her vision was still blurry, and her cheeks were incredibly flushed. She must’ve looked… pathetic she thought. But regardless, she allowed herself to look up at the person who had reached out to her.

The cold of his metal rings juxtaposed the warmth of his hand, and as her eyes trailed up towards his arms, she caught sight of his familiar tattoos, but also an unfamiliar detail as she reached his face.

Instead of seeing her reflection in the lenses of his glasses, she was surprised to see his eyes staring into hers. Gone was any trace of malice or cruelty, instead his brown eyes reflected nothing but concern… an emotion she’d never expected to see from him.

Johnny. 

As her tearful eyes met his, he could’ve almost sworn that he felt his engram heart stop beating for a second. The tears rolling down her cheeks, the way her lip trembled with each breath. He didn’t know why the sight of V feeling so upset affected him so, he blamed her emotions, her hormones, whatever came into his mind. He hated the way she made him feel, he hated that she had this much power over him. 

But most of all, he hated the fact that he felt so powerless to stop it.

He would’ve gladly taken V cussing him out, he would’ve taken V nagging at him and complaining about the smell as he smoked in her apartment. He would’ve even happily taken V as she sang along to the car radio, something she’d originally done to get onto his nerves, but now it has become a sound he’s grown… to tolerate. Even sometimes… appreciate it. 

He wasn’t the type to comfort people like this, he was the type to leave as soon as emotions came into play, the countless amount of hearts that he’d broken in the past were evidence enough. Fuck, he didn’t know how to deal with his own goddamn emotions, blowing up Arasaka tower as revenge to deal with his grief, that’s what got him into this mess.

But as he wiped away a tear from her soft cheek with his calloused thumb… he wasn’t going to just sit there and let his little merc cry.

“V. You’ve done more than enough for this city than it deserves. You’re always running back and forth, trying to make this shithole a better place… all while trying to keep yourself alive.” He wanted to tell her that this damned city didn’t deserve her generosity, it didn’t deserve her hard work, fuck, this city didn’t deserve her.  

He didn’t deserve her.

And she didn’t deserve what he was doing to her.

“You keep spreading yourself too thin, you keep wanting to do shit for others, you keep wanting to help. But then you add the cherry on top — the fact that there’s a chip in your head slowly killin’ ya… You’ve got enough on your plate. You’ve earned a few nights of rest.”

V sniffled and tried to wipe away tears, her voice wavering as she spoke, “I-If I don’t keep goin’ if I don’t keep looking for a solution— I’m gonna die. Johnny, I don’t want to die—“

“V, you’re gonna end up dead long before the chip has an opportunity to kill you if you keep pushing yourself like this… You need to get some rest.”

He was right. As much as she fucking hated it… he was right.

She felt his metal hand cup her other cheek, the cool metal refreshing against the flushed skin, wiping away tears as he continued to speak.

“You’ve proven yourself enough to this city. You’ve proven yourself enough to me. But running yourself to the bone is not worth it in order to prove it to yourself. And you’re not alone V… as much as they get on my fuckn’ nerves, you’ve got chooms lookin’ out for ya, even if one of them is a fuckn’ cop—“

Through tears, V chuckled and playfully chided him, “Johnny…”

There it was… that little chuckle of hers that he was looking for. He wouldn’t admit it to others, he wouldn’t even admit it to himself, but V’s laughter never failed to make him feel something funny in his chest… it wasn’t like the high of drugs or liquor, but it felt just as addictive. It wasn’t like the adrenaline rush of a firefight or the rush during a show, but it made him feel just as excited and lightheaded.

He cleared his throat, trying to get his mind off of that feeling, and spoke, “Listen… all I’m saying… is that you’re not alone V. And although I don’t have much of a choice, whenever you need me…” he playfully smiled as his eyes met hers, “I’m always here for ya V.”

And that’s all it took.

In one moment to another, V wrapped her arms around his waist, knocking him on his ass from his previous kneeling position, and burying her head against his chest.

Despite sharing a head and body, somehow, someway, V always found a way to surprise him.

He groaned, the deep rumbles from his chest as he spoke making V settle in closer, anchoring herself to his presence.

“Fuck, V, a little warning next time would be nice.”

But even as he whined… he wasn’t complaining. Not when her sobs were beginning to fade, and she was instead chuckling at his expense in his arms. 

He ignored that funny feeling in his chest as his organic arm wraps itself against her body, his calloused hand rubbing circles against the small of her back, feeling her trembling begin to slow under his soft touch. Over time, her breathing began to even, and soon enough she was taking deep breaths as she recovered. 

Without even consciously doing so, Johnny’s metal hand found itself entwined with the strands of her hair, softly caressing as V’s eyes began to droop, and exhaustion began to overtake her body.

“V… it’s time for you to go to bed.”

“I’m fine Johnny, I’m—“ a yawn interrupted her mid-sentence, “I’m not even tired.”

“And I’m not buying it.” He chuckled as his arm wrapped around her midsection.

“W-wait Johnny what are you— Johnny!” In an instant, V was thrown over his shoulder as he stood from the ground, and she gripped onto him in order to avoid falling to the floor.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m taking you to bed.” He chuckled as he felt her hand playfully slap against his shoulder.

“Fucking hell Johnny, a warning would be nice!” He could almost imagine her expression as he walked across the apartment, the way she would pout in exasperation.

“Just repaying the favor, that’s all.” He smirked as he reached her bed. Slowly setting her down from his shoulder onto the mattress below. 

“There. It’s time that you allowed yourself to get some rest, and not that weird shit you do where you sleep across the bed huddled in a little ball, but some actual sleep, under the covers and all.” 

“Fine, fine…” V slipped into a pair of nightclothes as Johnny had the decency to look away, and then slipped under the blankets, making herself comfortable. But before she drifted off to sleep, she called out, “Johnny?”

“... yeah?”

“I just— I just wanted to say thanks. Y’know, for tonight and all.”

“‘Course…” he stepped towards the bed once more as he spoke, “I mean, if I’m the one telling you that you need some rest, you probably fucked up somewhere along the way.”

“That’s true… judging from your memories, you’re terrible at following your own advice, Johnny.” She smiled at him, uncertain if the lack of sleep had made her delirious or if perhaps she was feeling particularly honest that night, but she spoke, “Y’know, if fucking up this badly was the catalyst for us to meet… I would do it all over again.”

He smiled sadly in return, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, his cold metal hand brushing her cheek as he did so. An action to acknowledge the words between them were best left unspoken and unsaid— at least, for now.

“...Goodnight V.” He tore his gaze from her as he turned to walk away.

“Wait— Johnny!”

She grasped his metallic hand before he had the opportunity to pull away.

“... stay with me? Just for tonight?”

With her eyes looking up at him, her smaller hand clinging onto his, causing his breath to hitch and his heart to race—

How could he say no?

“Fine, but just for tonight. I can’t have you thinkin’ I’m goin’ soft or something.”

Johnny slipped under the covers, and without even needing to be asked, he wrapped his arms around V, and she rested her head against his chest in return.

“Get some rest, samurai… the city will still be there waiting for us when you awake.”

-

Thank ya kindly for reading! I'm always down for some constructive criticism and I love to read any lovely comments about my fics. Do let me know if there are any mistakes, I don't have a beta reader for Cyberpunk just yet, so a few mistakes may have gotten away from me!

And feel free to send in asks/requests! I'm so in love with Johnny and V and I can spend hours thinking and talking about them aaaaa

[lcdrarry]

LCDrarry 2020 Master List

Dear lovely Participants, Creators, Alpha and Beta Readers, Commentors, Cheerleaders, Readers and Fans of our fest,

Our 2nd installment of LCDrarry is coming to an end, and we'd like to thank you all for taking part in our little fest, for creating so many amazing new Drarry works for us all to enjoy, for commenting on your favourite creations, for sharing and recommending the LCDrarry gems with your friends and blog followers, and for making this fest another amazing experience for us mods.

We hope we could bring you some joy and diversion in these trying times and send you lots of love, strength and perseverance wherever you are :*

Under the cut, you can find out who created what ;D The works are listed in the order they posted during the fest.

Happy reading & squeeing & don’t forget to follow your favourite creators!

~Your LCDrarry Mods Tami @celilasart​ and Suzi @erin-riwen​

PS: Reblogs are very much appreciated <3

***

Love, Actually, is All Around

Prompt: #180 | "Love, Actually" - 2003 - Richard Curtis Author: punk_rock_yuppie Word Count: 9,975 words Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: Wizarding Politics, Discriminiation, Slight power imbalance

Summary: It's Christmastime, and Harry has just started as the new Minister of Magic. It just so happens that Draco happens to work in his office as well, a holdover from Kingsley's tenure. Naturally, love is in the air.

Read "Love, Actually, is All Around" now on AO3.

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Drarry on Ice

Prompt: #150 | '"Yuuri!!! On Ice" - 2016 - Series Artist: RunningOutsideTheLines Art Medium: Traditional Art Rating: General Warnings: none

Summary: Harry and Draco find love on the ice. I love Yuuri on Ice and Harry and Draco seem like such a perfect fit for Victor and Yuuri. I'll leave it up to your imagination as far as which is which. This image is from the final scene when the two of them do a exhibition skate together.

View "Drarry on Ice" now on AO3.

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Boats, but Not the Ocean

Prompt: #203 | "Groundhog Day" - 1993 - Harold Ramis Author: p1013 Word Count: 15,551 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Very minor mention of suicide, some mild horror

Summary: If Draco ever gets his hands on this Bill Murray character, he's going to kill him.

Read "Boats, but Not the Ocean" now on AO3.

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When I Put My Eyes On You

Prompt: #193 | "The Way He Looks" - 2014 - Daniel Ribeiro Author: Zzzara Word Count: 31,155 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Summary: When a hero defeats a villain, there's supposed to be a happily-ever-after... but when did anything ever happen to Harry Potter the way it was supposed to? Having sacrificed himself to the greater good, Harry is left alone in the darkness, blindly groping for the shreds of the life he knew. When the enemies meet, how is the story supposed to go, once they learn there's more to it than the eye can see? A story of pain, hope and things we discover, once we stop looking for them with our eyes.

Read "When I Put My Eyes On You" now on AO3.

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Spellbound

Prompt: #113 | "Overboard" - 1987 - Garry Marshall Author: mortenavida Word Count: 15,878 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Amnesiac Draco Malfoy, Widowed Harry Potter, past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Dub-Con due to Amnesia (Only Kissing)

Summary: It’s been years since Harry left with Ginny to get away from the bad memories of war. The small town of Elk Cove, Oregon, had been a perfect place to raise their children. Now widowed, Harry works hard to make sure his children never want for anything. When an old rival steps into his life, everything changes and Harry finds the perfect opportunity to get back at Malfoy for everything the Slytherin did to him -- if he doesn’t regret falling for him first.

Read "Spellbound" now on AO3.

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Of Labcoats and Animagi

Prompt: #97 | "Queer Eye" - 2017 - Series Author: meandminniemcg Word Count: 10,868 words Rating: Mature Warnings: mention of past abuse, panic attack (tw at beginning of chapter, can be skipped)

Summary: Fashion icon Draco? That's long past. After the war, he never bought any new clothes and lives in his labcoats. When he doesn't feel confident enough to meet his pen friend Prongs in real life, Luna decides to stage an intervention with a little help from the Fab Five.

Read "Of Labcoats and Animagi" now on AO3.

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Title of Their Sex Tape

Prompt: #112 | "Brooklyn Nine Nine" - 2013 - Series Author: Cibee Word Count: 12,428 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: None

Summary: What are the Wizarding world's most elite law enforcers doing when they aren't catching criminals? It seems Auror Malfoy is often caught throwing food into Auror Potter's mouth when he's mid-yawn. This story isn't about Draco throwing food at Harry. What it does have is: Undercover! Heists! Draco pining for Harry! Harry being oblivious, but also can't help noticing how good Draco smells! Banters and jokes! That's about it.

Read "Title of Their Sex Tape" now on AO3.

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Harry Potter and the Beast

Prompt: #204 | "Beauty and the Beast" - 1991 - Gary Trousdale Author/Artist: Miakagrewup Word Count/Art Medium: 5,655 words/31 illustrated pages Rating: General Warnings: None

Summary: Arrogant prince Draco is cursed to live as a terrifying beast until he finds true love. This fairy tale consists of 31 fully illustrated pages.

Read "Harry Potter and the Beast" now on AO3.

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So Open Up My Eyes, Tell Me I'm Alive

Prompt: #191 | "Secret Garden" - 1993 - Agnieszka Holland Author: mycucumbereyes Word Count: 12,865 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: trauma, canon typical violence, homophobia, use of f-g/f----t, mention of suicidal thoughts, character with a disability

Summary: When Draco Malfoy comes to live at Godric’s Hollow, he finds it full of secrets. One night he hears the sound of crying…

Read "So Open Up My Eyes, Tell Me I'm Alive" now on AO3.

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i demand to dig my own grave

Prompt: #10 | "Psych" - 2006 - Series Author: M0stlyVoid Word Count: 20,836 words Rating: Mature Warnings: None

Summary: Draco finds himself in hot water with the Aurors, and in a burst of panicked inspiration manages to wiggle out of it by claiming to be a Seer. There's just one little problem– Senior Auror Harry Potter, the Prat Who Lived, who's known him for a decade, knows full well Draco doesn't have a single psychic bone in his body and seems determined to pull him up for it. Now, the Department is demanding he help them solve cases, Potter's looming over his shoulder at every turn, and worst of all, he hasn't had a shag in weeks because of all this bother. What's a pseudo-Seer to do?

Read "i demand to dig my own grave" now on AO3.

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As You Wish

Prompt: #37 | "The Princess Bride" - 1987 - Rob Reiner Author: Pineau_noir Word Count: 21,917 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Canon-typical (Harry Potter and The Princess Bride) violence, mention of suicide, canon-typical character death

Summary: Draco was raised on a farm in the small country of Witshire; his favourite pastimes were flying on his broom and tormenting the hired farm boy. Though his name was Harry, Draco never called him that. On Harry's forehead there was a scar shaped like a lightning bolt, so Draco called him Scarhead. Nothing gave Draco as much pleasure as ordering Harry around.

Or a story about fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, True Love, and miracles.

Read "As You Wish" now on AO3.

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Queer Eye for the Drarry Guys

Prompt: #97 | "Queer Eye"- 2017 - Series Author: blowfish_diaries Word Count: 18,201 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: none

Summary: Teddy's dads are great! Really! They just need a little push from five *fabulous* gays to get them to see what's right in front of them.

Read "Queer Eye for the Drarry Guys" now on AO3.

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Casecation

Prompt: #112 | "Brooklyn Nine Nine" - 2013 - Series Author: Mfingenius Word Count: 4,293 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: AU, canon-typical discussion of heavy topics, discussion of mpreg

Summary: "Draco Malfoy, I swear to God-” Hermione snaps under her breath, causing Draco to laugh lowly as he ducks under a hanging plant pot. “Draco Potter, ‘Mione,” Harry murmurs with a helpless grin; they’re not really supposed to be speaking – they're walking through the halls of Antonin Dolohov’s beach house, on their way to arrest him – but Harry can’t help marking the difference, even a year after they got married. “Be quiet,” Ginny says, rolling her eyes. “If he hears us and escapes-” Draco signals at them, and they all steel themselves for when he throws the door of the bedroom open. “Shit!”

Read "Casecation" now on AO3.

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Don't Blink!

Prompt: #179 | "Dr Who" - 2007 - Series Author/Artist: Gnarf Art Medium: Digital art Rating: General Warnings: None

Summary: Harry had always had exceptionally bad timing. It's not different this time.

Read "Don't Blink!" now on AO3.

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A Demon and an Angel Visit the Ritz

Prompt: #167 | “Good Omens” - 2019 - Series Artist: ravenclawkward Art Medium: Digital Oil Painting Rating: General Warnings: None

Summary: Harry the demon and Draco the angel just finished saving the world. They've earned their celebration, wouldn't you say?

Read "A Demon and an Angel Visit the Ritz" now on AO3.

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Change on the Horizon

Prompt: #57 | "Shameless (US)" - 2011 - Series Author: static_abyss Word Count: 118,645 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Character with depression, mentions of not wanting to exist and lethargy, though no actual suicide or mentions of suicide. Unhealthy coping mechanisms, specifically not taking prescribed medication for depression. Internalized homophobia, and general homophobia from parental figures, though there is a happy ending. Casual relationships.

Summary: A canon AU drarry fic based on the relationship between Mickey and Ian from Shameless. A story about the aftereffects of the Second Wizarding War and how Draco and Harry come together and break apart over and over. How maybe, somewhere along the way, they find a way to live with themselves.

Read "Change on the Horizon" now on AO3.

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The Thrill of the Chase Moves in Mysterious Ways

Prompt: #192 | "Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries" - 2012 - Series Author: VeelaWings Word Count: 32,569 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Heavy Drinking, Smoking Cigars, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Minor Character Death, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Kidnapping, Non-Graphic Violence, Gun Violence, Poisoning

Summary:

“Do you have a personal interest in this case, Malfoy?” Harry asked, arms crossed and blocking the view of the body behind him.

“Not at all.” Draco smiled sweetly, cuddled into the side of tonight’s date. “Although I did briefly own that painting until it proved to be stolen.” He helpfully pointed to the Renaissance portrait a few metres to their left.

“Why is it always so complicated with you?”

+++++

Some people might argue that Draco didn’t have very good ideas. That was a lie. Draco had fantastic ideas, however, due to mankind having free will, the planning and execution of those ideas didn’t always pan out in his favor.

(Or — Draco solves crimes that don’t technically belong to him and Harry tries not to fall in love. Co-Starring: Hermione, High Heels, and Hiccups along the way. #dat 1920s lyfe)

Read "The Thrill of the Chase Moves in Mysterious Ways” now on AO3.

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Burn Your Life Down (but look back to me)

Prompt: #202 | Casablanca - 1942 - Michael Curtiz Author: Triggerlil Word Count: 35,910 words Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Warnings: Alternate Universe - World War II, Film Noir, Self-Medication, Alcohol, Infidelity (not between Harry and Draco), Smoking, Mention of Slavery and Human Trafficking

Summary:

It's been years since destiny walked into an apartment on Rue Azais, and Harry is over it. Really, he is. He has Blaise, he has his work, and if necessary, he still has his memories. But with the onset of WWII, the foundations of his life are crumbling, and suddenly a certain blond man is walking back into his life, asking Harry to make important, and dangerous, choices.

Read “Burn Your Life Down (but look back to me)” now on AO3.

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Super Rich Kids

Prompt: #24 | "The Bling Ring" - 2013 - Sofia Coppola Author: Thusspoketrish Word Count: 81,000 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Thriller, Murder, Dark Humour, Angst, Depression, Nihilism, Existenialism, Jealousy, Hurt/Comfort, Gaslighting, Very Brief Instance of Suicidal Ideation, Immorality, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence (not between Harry and Draco), Abusive Drug Use, Manipulative Behaviour, Heterosexual Sex, Threesomes, Candaulism, Possible Infidelity Due to Unclear Relationship Status (please read the tags on AO3 carefully, this list is not exhaustive)

Summary:

Draco Malfoy has become disillusioned by the glitz and glamour of the scandalous lives of the Post-Second Wizarding War Pureblood Elite. Enter: one existential crisis, one group of cynical friends, and several terrible, terrible decisions.

Read “Super Rich Kids” now on AO3.

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We Built This Right

Prompt: #48 | "Yuri on ice" - 2016 - Series Author: remy_writes5 Word Count: 15,344 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Homophobic Language, Anxiety, Strained Relationship with Parents

Summary:

At last year's Grand Prix Final, Harry had an accident that left him with a lightning scar on his forehead, a concussion and a twisted ankle. Now everyone is waiting to see if his career is over - including former rival, Draco Malfoy.

Read "We Built This Right” now on AO3.

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Please help promote the fest by sharing your favourite submissions, so more people can enjoy all the amazing new Drarry works of LCDrarry. Thank you!

[cwopf]

MY THEORY OF GILLOVNY

What if these two actually are together in real life. What if it IS a possibility. As lunatic as it seems, I can’t help but think about it. I have a life of my own, believe me, yet I keep coming back to this thought every once in a while, because I admit I’ve never seen anything like it before and I am not someone who gives even a flying fuck about celebrities. But these two make me wonder and I don’t know what is it about them, but I somehow want to believe in them.

What if their undeniable chemistry truly is real and their love is so much more than just a friendship.

What if Peter Morgan truly is nothing but a colleague and some kind of publicity she caught herself in, because even with all the “proof” of them being a couple, something just doesn’t sit right.

Her behavior, the gestures around him, it just doesn’t seem like a well loved, happy beyond dream kinda woman, I don’t physically see it. I truly don’t get the “love of my life” vibe. Do you?

Stiff, reserved and all in all a bit cold even, they truly make me wonder if it might be just a PR stunt. And, look, if I saw her crazy happy with a guy I’d be happy for her, totally. But, this? Nah, I don’t buy this shit.

Which, when I look back at all the gillovny moments, as crazy as it was, makes me believe that it was more than just an acted out exaggeration. And not even just a deep, year long friendship.

What if it truly passed all of that and became a romance at some point, and a big one. It certainly did look like it at a time. And while it currently looks like it had already ended, it made me think - what if that’s the point?

It takes a fool not to notice their ways towards each other, and even with all the denials, which sure make it hard to believe, when you see it for yourself it naturally comes as a possibility. It seems like a waste not to pursue something like that.

If we go back to the hints. The random sightings. Some might be made up, I am sure, but then some seem just crazy accurate.

What’s with the random dates in their lives, how can it all be so synchronized. Is it just random luck or is it an ode or a message to one another of some sort?

Why were they spotted in the same places so many times, randomly and out of their professional time together. Why the visits on sets, the airport sightings, the deleted tweets that seemed to reveal a little bit too much, the supposed holiday trips to the same destinations.

Why do people in the biz say stuff like “You mean Gillian and David? They’re not married, but they have been together for a while now.” Why does a random person (who apparently works for tv) on fb wish them a happy bday, then posts about how they have been together for a while now and how it was a nice surprise. And why would someone just say that out of the blue? Yep, it probably meant nothing. But, again. What if there was some truth to that? And that was only a fucking year ago.

How do two people accidentally get crippled at the same time? Also the stories from that same event, of how they love each other and their gestures towards one other, them arriving together and entering separately? What the hell are people noticing? Wasn’t she already kinda supposedly taken by then?

Why does she always wear the link bracelet, she wore it in their “good times” and it truly seems like a gift from D, which, of course, we will never know matter of fact, but it just feels like it. She has it on constantly, it seems so telling. She also wears it on red carpets with PM all the time and on almost every photoshoot. What IF it is from DD, wouldn’t that say something?

Also the necklace with a link he once wore on the stage of one of his concerts, could that very link be a part of her chain? If yes, then that is some deeply romantic shit.

Also the recent interviews, one in particular comes to mind. First, her mentioning her supposed boyfriend subtly and only saying the name out loud when asked about it, then proceeding to talk about her “partner” and telling a story of how they were talking about the aging process, but how they respect it because they are both going through it. Why does it feel like the mentioned totally fits someone else, like she’d discuss such a thing with someone who has been a part of her life for a long time and she had inevitably experienced this process with during the years. Does this click for anyone else too, or am I crazy and making up shit?

This was the moment when I stopped to think if just maybe there was a crazy possibility of David still being in her life.

Why does she speak about it being so good not living with her man and how she doesn’t see him that often, but when she does it’s special and it works for them.

While she must have been seeing her “current man” on set all the time. Do you notice how a lot of stuff that are supposedly about PM just don’t add up? Also, again, does the story make you think about someone else as well?

Also, have to throw this in here. The Christmas Jonathan Ross show. The sudden David (dick) reference. The Rob Lowe (apparently a good friend of David’s) saying “not far off from what I’ve been told” then both of them giggling together, almost as if an inside joke. The kind that gives off the vibe of making you wonder if the size thing’s something she’d accidentally blab out and brag about jokingly at some dinner party they once shared.

Why does she usually not give a fuck about half the stuff said, yet she would feel so shaken by people’s disbelief to publicly put it out on twitter about PM being the “love of her life” just to defend that idea? Why does it not seem like her at all? Why do I feel making a joke or being sarcastic about it would fit her more?

Is her SM being totally under control?

Maybe the penis and yoni of the day (along with Nelson) are one of the rare outlets right now, even that being some pre-approved idea for having it seem like she’s being her regular self, cause that’s something that we know fits her character.

But when you think about it, it is still a mini subtle commercial for SexEd. Which I love, yet...Netflix. Again.

Also, the constant mentioning of Netflix along with PM in her stories, desperately trying to fit him somewhere. Like the “what do you eat during quarantine” and bam: “when me and Pete hosted a dinner we froze a chocolate cake...” Riiight. Is it just me, or does it seem like trying way too hard?

Which makes me think of all the contrary. If we go back to the past Gillovny fuckery...“he’s in the shower” and “I’m with schmoopie” shirts and “chewie’s girlfriend” and the twitter saga. What if it was intentionally done that way to make people think “what if”, but obviously take it as a joke, because of course that’s what it is. But was it? Maybe they just knew no one would truly buy it so they could play around for a little bit and actually be a couple for a minute, make out on Kimmel and fuck around on twitter. Propaganda? Maybe.

Some truth in that? God damn it, almost feels like it. Sure felt way more natural, sexy and loving than any of the stuff going on today.

What if we hate MP for no reason, what if she’s just truly a fucking assistant, a help and nothing but it. What if G hugged her after the play in London out of gratitude, because she’s just a prop they need to act this shit out. What if it’s all a big shitshow, but a shitshow nonetheless.

What if I will say the silliest shit of all time and boldly assume...that behind all of this which we do not understand, D&G are still together and fine. What if it was meant to feel like the end to us. But they are there, in secret, because it’s somehow better for them, because they prefer it that way.

What if the shoe pic of “working from home in my Dune London shoes” a day prior to his 60th birthday is just another way to turn people away from that idea and subtly make them not even question anything, while in reality she is with him, somewhere, celebrating his 60th birthday. And things are much brighter for them than what they seem.

I might be so wrong, so off. But something is going on in the background and there are way too many things I do not buy.

Also, it was honestly more probable to me that they were once together, but fell apart somewhere along the way, I believed that and it totally seemed like a probable scenario.

Until the very subtle, yet interesting stuff that have been going on made me question it again, maybe it’s silly, but when I connect the dots, like the constant bracelet wearing, the talking about a partner and not mentioning the name, but referencing stuff that feel completely Gillovny, aging with someone, long distance shit, random people still stating “they have been together for a while now, nice surprise”. Maybe it’s a load of bullshit, but it also just makes it seem like he still might be there, somewhere, after all.

How the hell did I end up here? I ask myself this constantly. I still have no idea.

Yes, it is so fucking crazy. But this is where I leave this at.

[cosmostasia]

Cosmostasia’s Story

So as I mentioned in my first post, Cosmostasia is the character that I played in a long-form Dungeons & Dragons campaign with some of my best friends in high school. Obviously we were all getting ready to graduate, go off to college, etc., so we decided that once we completed our last campaign objective, we would find a way to tie up the story. It was a kind of bitter-sweet realization, but we made a lot of amazing memories along the way!

I joined the game during my junior year in high school, probably a few weeks after the game itself was started. My then-friend (now girlfriend) was in the game and had invited me. This was my first game ever, and honestly, I’ve never had so much fun with D&D! Our DM was an expert in just about everything, ran the game smoothly, answered just about every question... He’s a great DM, but I’m sad to say that since graduation he’s had almost no time to run another game.

But that’s all reminiscence about better days, not the story!

My character - at the time, named Anastasia - was a shapeshifter wizard. Most of her studies involved mapping the cosmos, reading star charts, and understanding the movements of the celestial bodies. I’ve always loved space, so it felt right making a wizard who was also an astronomer!

As the campaign went on, my girlfriend’s character (a tiefling bard name Tarx) basically became Anastasia’s love interest. Yes, there was romantic and intimate involvement, but we never really went into that kind of detail at the table - it was more heavily implied, “fade to black” than anything. Of course, that never stopped my mind from racing and thinking about how our characters did things... Normally, Anastasia had a relatively small bust, but Tarx was pretty open with his preference. Anastasia, of course, is a shapeshifter.

You get the idea there.

Moving on though, we went on to deal with a lot of problems throughout the world, from roving bandits and raiding orc factions, to entire armies of undead being raised and controlled by an ultra-powerful lich named Victus. Victus would become a recurring villain for us since whenever we killed him, his soul just returned to his phylactery and he would reincarnate at an unknown location in the world.

Our final campaign arc involved the Queen of Sarpathion, Queen Anisterian von Draxxis. A few of our questlines had involved going and saving some of the princes and princesses of the von Draxxis royalty - apparently they had been kidnapped at different points and no one was able to find them. Or at least, no one was brave (or stupid) enough to challenge the people that did it. From bandit chiefs to full-blown warlords and archmagi, one of whom turned out to be an ancient black dragon (imagine fighting THAT at level 10!!). Well, we managed to round the three of them up and bring them home to safety.

W R O N G .

Turns out what we had actually done was deliver Queen Anisterian the three children she had borne specifically for a blood sacrifice. For context, the von Draxxis line were all tieflings - part of the only reason Tarx cared at all about them was because they were like him, and he’d been treated poorly in other kingdoms.

Apparently Queen Anisterian was waiting until just the right moment when a solar eclipse would coincide with a planetary alignment (which my character knew about btw! We had been talking about this for months in advance!). During that brief moment, the time would be right for her to sacrifice her offspring and drink their blood, turning her into a matron vampire.

What she hadn’t been counting on was that our party in had become good friends with Dimerius, Alistarge, and Valliana von Draxxis. Lots of fun adventures and hard-fought victories were won by their sides. As such, if she was going to hurt them, she’d be answering to us. She also didn’t know that this ritual (which was apparently copied from the Book of Vile Darkness) would also cause untold instability in the Weave around the ritual site. Basically, you use magic within a mile of this place, and reality has a pretty solid chance of just unraveling itself. Fun, right? We got to learn this because one of our characters was a less-than-good-and-not-in-a-neutral-way vengeance paladin, and he’d managed to catch a glimpse of the Book of Vile Darkness the last time we’d dealt with Victus. It was that moment when we realized something was up (you know, a section that explicitly states “the blood of three of the mother’s offspring” seems a little obvious). That’s when we started making our way to Castle Draxxis with some help. 

This was around the time we were going to be concluding our campaign; we were all level 16 and were very capable of taking on such a threat. We’d worked with a lot of people and by that point, we were able to convince enough allies to band together and lead an invasion on Castle Draxxis. Of course, every time we had been there since the first time, the castle always felt slightly more... Off. And Queen Anisterian herself was sickly and unwell. She’d even made the comment at one point that her reign would soon be at its end, and then the kingdom must answer to her eldest son.

As we led the invasion, her armies fought as we suspected they would, up until the gargoyles adorning the buttresses and spires of the castle began to crackle and move. They came alive and made it impossible for us to march on Castle Draxxis.

The NPC that we’d appointed the sort of de facto general (Petram, a retired general for the army of one of the human kingdoms) told us to try and find a way in ourselves, and they would keep the bulk of the Queen’s forces distracted.

We make our way over the outer wall, fight off the gargoyles that noticed us get in, and made our way to a secret passage that Valliana had shown us. The Queen apparently hadn’t posted any guards at the passage, and we were able to make our way to the throne room with only a few brief encounters with royal guards.

By the time we had gotten there, the sun had been eclipsed by the moon and we could already hear the screaming. We opened the door as she was taking the last gulps of Valliana’s blood - the brothers already lay dead at the foot of the throne.

She underwent a violent transformation, and immediately forced half of the party to kneel before her (she charmed them and gave the command to kneel). Our cleric, Volmund the dwarf, was kept busy running around the room un-charming everyone, and Tarx did his best to help with his countercharm, but... her save DC was really high and we were not rolling well.

In the end, we had all been charmed and forced to kneel before her. She had been casting spells left and right, I had been casting spells, and because of the instability, we were beginning to notice reality shift and obscure. Of course, as we’re all powerless and unable to do anything, she began channeling a spell that was pretty much either going to kill everyone in the room except her, or tear through the fabric of reality. On the bright side, we all got to roll another save before her next turn, and then we’d be able to do something!

Except that we all failed. You know how people are usually like “Ugh I don’t want another elf in my party”? Make sure at least one of you plays a damn elf.

It got to my turn (right before hers) and I made my roll. Of course, I also failed. I then asked my DM if being charmed and forced to kneel also meant that I was unable to speak. He gave me a look, thought about it, and gave a smirk. “Sure, you guys are able to speak while you’re charmed - she didn’t say “Kneel and be silent,” so I’ll allow it.”

When we last defeated Victus, the one item that we were able to loot from him was this beautifully crafted ring. Everyone in the party already had a ring of some kind, so Tarx gave it to me as a sort of promise ring. However, our DM said that as I put it on, I felt this overwhelming magical energy flow through me (being that I was the only real magic-user in the party, Anastasia was sensitive to these things). I spent some time identifying the ring and learned that it was an innert Ring of Wishes! Of course, no charges on it so it was really just a fancy ring at that point. Everyone else had already forgotten about it, but I was texting the DM under the table and asking questions about the implications of having the ring near such a huge source of power/disruption. He said that it might (on a very, very lucky percentile roll) restore one of the charges to the ring.

I whispered into the ring, and said “If you can hear me... I wish for a way to survive long enough to fix everything Queen Anisterian has done.”

The DM raised his eyebrows, and rolled a percentile.

He laughed.

Hysterically.

Once he composed himself again, he said “Your wish... Has been granted.”

Everyone else at the table was just so confused and excited and panicked all of the sudden, and then, since Queen Anisterian had completed her round of channeling uninterrupted, was able to basically cast a spell that would drain all of our life forces until fell over as dried, dusty husks.

Before casting, the DM rolled a percentile (as he had been doing any time magic was used during the fight).

He laughed again.

“You all feel this horrible sensation as your blood, your life force, your very souls, are drained from your body. The pain is absolutely agonizing, and lasts for what feels like eternity in that instant. And then, as Queen Anisterian is laughing maniacally and relishing her new power, her hand suddenly flashes with a blinding light.”

He then turns to me specifically.

DM: “When you wake up, you don’t know where you are. As far as you can see all around you are nothing but distant stars and nebulae.”

Me: “Wait... What happened to everyone?”

DM: “The entire world blinked out of existence. You, however, have been granted immortality - and immunity - by your wish. You’re out in open space, but the lack of oxygen, the temperature... It doesn’t bother you, you actually feel fine.”

Basically, our DM had intended that a roll of 10 or lower on a percentile would cause reality to collapse on itself, but only enough to affect our world to different extents. Rolling a 10, for example, meant Castle Draxxis would blink out of existence.

He rolled a 1.

When he rolled for my ring, he rolled a 100.

We all kind of sat there basking in the sheer improbability of rolling a 100 and then a 1 right after (I think it’s a 1/10,000 chance? I’m an artist who likes space, not a mathematician). Then as the realization of what had happened settled into us, I had so many questions that I barely knew where to start. “Am I near where the planet was? Was I shot away from the blinkpoint, or was I teleported somewhere?”

He told us that I had basically been knocked out cold by the sudden magical reverberation (again, magic-sensitive) and fell adrift into space. Anastasia was able to identify where some of the planets were - the moon was not caught in the blast, but there was a massive chuck taken out of the side where the blinkpoint hit it and it was just floating adrift around the sun. From that, we were able to determine how long it had been (”Can I please roll an Intelligence check to figure out how long it’s been since the planets were aligned?” “Hm... Actually no, you just know how long it’s been based on their positions.”). Figured out that I’d been out cold for a week.

Anastasia panicked at first, frantically trying to get the ring to work again - but you know, it only regained the one charge. It’s innert. She cried for her friends and for everyone on her world. She cried for hours, knowing that she could have made a better wish. Knowing that her self preservation came at the cost of literally everything.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a glimmer. At first she thought it was a star, but realized it wasn’t one she recognized. She cast Fly on herself (can’t exactly swim through space) and made her way over, and as she approached, she found what looked to be some sort of crack in reality.

It didn’t take long for everyone to realize that this was the blinkpoint, and even looking at it made her feel like she was being electrocuted with magical energy. She decided that, being immortal, maybe touching it might do something? Who knows at this point, right? Even if it killed her or unmade her altogether, at least she wouldn’t be immortal and stuck with the guilt for the rest of eternity.

She reached out, and her hand connected with the fissure... And it pulled her in. She couldn’t see anything around her, being locked in an inescapable abyss. But that painful sensation that came from the blinkpoint had... faded. It was a dull hum in her mind now. She had the idea to cast Detect Magic, and the DM described the scene.

“You cast Detect Magic, and as you do, your eyes adjust to the scene around you, where you see all around you this intricate, perfectly woven latticework of microscopic threads. They cross in every conceivable direction, glowing in an impossibly numerous array of colors. This... is the Weave.”

By passing through the blinkpoint, I had basically transcended, and was able to perceive magic itself. And then, a voice came to me that caused every thread to resonate and vibrate.

???: “I see that you have found your way to that which lies between. A space betwixt realities.”

Anastasia: “Yes... I... Who are you? Can you help me?”

???: “I do not have a name. I am simply the Weaver of Magic.”

After a brief discussion about the implications of weaving space, time, and magic to bind everything together, the Weaver had a proposition.

Weaver: “You see, Anastasia... I also require assistance. Reality needs stability within the Weave, but I am unable to exist anywhere except within the Weave. I cannot leave this place. I could grant you the power to reverse the mistakes of the past, the power to right the wrongs of this Anisterian. But I would request that you act as the eternal guardian and curator of magic throughout the Planes.”

Anastasia: “Oh, I... I don’t know if I would know how to do that. You wield tremendous power, and even the gods find magic to be a fickle thing! Where would I even begin?”

Weaver: “Your gods find magic to be fickle because they have not embraced the Weave. You, however, may be granted this power freely.”

Anastasia: “You mean... You mean I could become a goddess?”

Weaver: “I do not fully understand these “gods,” but in your terms, yes. You would become Goddess of Reality.”

Anastasia: “That’s... more responsibility than I’ve ever known possible... But I can save my friends this way?”

Weaver: “I will allow you to undo the damage to the Weave. This will revert your reality to the moment before the threads were torn, and allow you to change the outcome of everything that had happened.”

Anastasia had to think long and hard about it. She would spend the remainder of her existence - the remainder of time - as a goddess, protecting and weaving magic throughout all of the Planes. That, of course, was nothing compared to the guilt of being the only survivor of her entire world.

She accepted the agreement, and the transformation began. Threads from the Weave wrapped themselves around her, covering her entire body until she was wrapped in pure magic. When she could see again, she was back out in space, adrift near the fissure. She looked at her hands instinctively, and noticed that her skin was glassy-smooth. Looking at her hands, her robes, her hair, she saw the same glass-like smoothness, but was able to look into herself and see the deepest parts of the cosmos within herself.

She had been transformed into the Goddess of Reality.

She looked to the fracture and began to focus. In the past, she was able to occasionally channel raw magic into different objects in order to activate them. She used the same process, but rather than the magic needing to be coaxed out of her, it erupted from her hands and shot into the fissure.

The fracture slowly crumbled into itself, and soon showed the entire world exploding in reverse. The moon lined back up with where it was, the planets unwound their orbits to realign, the planet reformed itself around her.

Within moments, she was floating just above the floor of the throne room right where she was, her hands raised at Queen Anisterian’s channeling hand. She held a hand out to Anisterian, and clenched her fist. Every thread of magic that had been woven into her unraveled and spun itself into Anastasia’s palm, and she was able to guide the threads back to the slain children of the queen. They would slowly reawaken and rise, and Queen Anisterian’s power was rendered innert.

Our party was able to stand up, and we apprehended the Queen and were able to throw her into the dungeons with no trouble. She was no longer capable of using magic in any form, so leaving her down there would pose no threats.

Alright, roll credits - that was the end of our campaign!

From then on, Anastasia changed her name to Cosmostasia, and wandered the Planes curating all of the torn threads of the Weave, ensuring that magic wasn’t being abused in a way that damaged it, etc.

Yes, Cosmostasia continued to visit her homeworld and help those in need, but given that she was a goddess and had some very pressing responsibilities, she couldn’t be there as consistently as our other heroes. Plus, when she was home, she was trying to take time off and be with her beloved Tarx!

If you made it this far, thank you for reading the entire thing!! I’ve always wanted to illustrate it and make a comic or something, but... that’s a project for another time lol. But now you have some context behind Cosmostasia!! :)

[skylights422]

Seed of a Memory

Here is my piece for @arowrimo! This features D&D iterations of my novel characters, and there’s a lot more to both of these characters’ stories, but hopefully this serves as a nice introduction to them.

Title: Seed of a Memory

Language: English

Category: Short Story (Theme: Subverting Romantic Tropes, Fantasy)

Prompt: Friendship

Genre: Fantasy, Drama

Word count: 1907

Content warnings: Brief mentions of racism and arophobia.

Summary: Fiera Casales takes a stroll with her pretend boyfriend and ponders the importance of things like love and memory.

Cold. Distant. That’s what the others had always called her, in whispers that faded down the corridors, in offhand remarks that begged judgement be met with indifference. Ever since she had awoken surrounded by cold ruins, vague images and feelings telling her that whoever she had been, she had been unwanted, and decided to become an anthropologist. They admired her skill in spell casting and dedication to her cause, but questioned her work, and refrained from getting too close. They doubted a high elf lacking the famed fair complexion could advance at such a rate without deception. They thought it undignified to spend so much time studying the cultures of ‘lesser’ species.

But it was well enough that they did not want to spend time with her. She did not very much want to spend time with them either. They were narrow minded and could tell her nothing of her missing past. They gossiped about her ‘lack of love’ despite their own callous indifference towards her.  It was enough to simply know how they thought, and how to best maneuver them to make her life easier.

It was also, she had to admit, more convenient for her current study that she not have much to lose in regards to relationships, as she was currently committing an unwritten social taboo simply to see what changes it might or might not have in the long run: she was ‘dating’ a drow elf.

The bitter, hated enemy of her people, so often described as ruthless killers and amoral abominations, as nature’s greatest mistake. She had often wondered if the drow were half as vile as the stories told, but after having met one it seemed more likely the hatred came from an old grudge allowed to fester, the separation of their countries making outlandish exaggerations difficult to disprove. A high elf being a partner to a drow elf was unheard of, and she had just enough status to see the effects of such a scandal.

The drow elf in question, who now lead her down a street gently by the arm, was a fellow by the name of Kadri. They had met quite by chance at a library, when she was knocked down a staircase and nearly took him down with her. Things were sorted out, and she had immediately wanted to interview him despite her own nervousness once realizing what he was. It took some persuasion, and the promise to make the interview a two-way one (she felt she was enormously fortunate that the first person from her sworn enemy’s country was a scholar such as herself), but she got to spend the day conversing with him. Despite the clear distrust he held towards her and his barely concealed agitation, it proved to be one of the more amiable and fascinating conversations she’d ever had. He answered questions thoroughly and with a frank wryness, and asked thoughtful questions in return.

During the next two weeks they met up every day to talk more, and typically ended up conversing for hours on end. They were both frank with their prejudices, though she felt them growing more at ease as time went on. She learned Kadri was a warlock, sworn to serve the demon Kir’giren after they saved his life when he was a child, and was disappointed but unsurprised to learn he had suffered several times at the hands of her people. She told him about her fractured memories, and of her time spent with the sea elves.

By the time Kadri had to depart to serve his master on some quest, she was surprised to find that she was missing his company. She didn’t tend to miss people, if anything she felt more at ease when she alone in her house. Usually the only feelings of longing she felt were in connection to her mangled memories, the faces she could recall but not quite put into context. She definitely couldn’t call the feeling she had love, if she had to guess she probably missed the intellectual challenge of working with someone so different and so on edge.

Regardless of the cause, she determined that if ever they crossed paths again, they would speak at length. That was when she realized that he would actually be perfect for an experiment that she had had in mind for some time, if he could be persuaded. Suffice to say, they did cross paths again, she did manage to persuade him to fake being her partner for up to six months, and they had now been living together and pretending to date for a little over a month. And the initial reaction of her people was horrified confusion as she and Kadri had expected, but over the weeks, opinions started to become more varied. Some applauded their bravery, others thought Kadri had cruelly put her under an enchantment, and some thought this was the final proof that she was a willful traitor and could never be trusted.

Just walking down the street as they were now, people were glancing and glaring at them, some people hurried to get out of their presence, others stared and whispered to their neighbors. They were walking through the city square, browsing some shops before looking for a place to eat.

“Are your thoughts happy, Fiera?” Kadri asked, snapping her out of her reverie.

“Huh? Oh, I was just reminiscing a bit. So perhaps bittersweet is a better descriptor. Why, did I look happy?” she asked.

“You looked contemplative. Are your contemplations ones you’d wish to share?” he said. Fiera turned to look at him properly. Even now he insisted on keeping his hood up in public, and his eyes were watchful, but underneath the wariness he did seem genuinely curious.

“I suppose…if I may ask, what do you think of love? I promise it’s relevant,” she said. Kadri seemed only slightly taken aback by the question; one of the first things she had told him before agreeing to the experiment was that she would never love him, and if he fell in love with her then that was his own problem to deal with alone, so he already knew the subject was one she had given thought to. He gave the question a moment of thought before answering.

“If anything, I think it is something I understand very poorly. I claim only to love Kir’giren, but that is truthfully a wild oversimplification. I know it drives others in equal parts to great acts of generosity and great acts of cruelty. I know there is very little agreement, between individuals or between groups, what exactly ‘true’ love is, and yet they at the same time take for granted that people will recognize it with ease and react accordingly. I have read enough to have some idea what most people see as loving actions, and to know that it is associated with attachment. But that is where my knowledge ends, I’m afraid.”  He said.

“Then you don’t know much more than myself,” Fiera sighed. “I was wondering about the nature of feelings, and the nature of relationships, and how they relate to memory. You have all your memories intact, and have, I believe, had crushes before, so I hoped you might be able to offer some insight. You don’t suppose emotions can be born of memories, do you?” Kadri looked quizzical.

“Crushes? I would hardly relate those to love…ah, but to answer your question, not exactly. I think it more accurate to say emotions are associated with memories. We do feel things in the present, after all.” He said.

“True…then I ask you instead, are there any memories you would forget if you could? Would you still be you if you had different memories?” she said. She knew she was prying at what was both purely a hypothetical and quite possibly personal, but the possibility of losing more memories, or of not being who she used to be, were ones she considered often. If she asked too personal a question Kadri would just tell her that.

“Hmm… I believe it may be more truthful to say there are many things I wish had never happened to me in the first place. But they did happen, so I would not let go of them.” He said. Then he chuckled to himself. “But then, I am an incredibly miserable person often stuck in the past. Surely, if I had different memories, the essence of me would be the same, but I would see the world in a different light.” Fiera thought about that. Without her old memories, she had been forced to grow new ones, and she wasn’t discontent with them…

“That is fair. I suppose I just wonder if my old memories have truly withered away or not. It can feel strange to be ‘moving on’ when that is not certain.” She said.

“Well, I suppose it would be hypocritical of me to in any way judge…” Then his expression grew slightly softer. “Truly, Fiera, you are not lacking in any respect. You are exceptionally driven and kind, and brilliant beyond compare. I do not doubt you will find joy and peace in your own way, no matter the circumstances of your memories or your relationship with that nebulous thing called ‘love’.”  Fiera smiled at that. Kadri would sometimes just say stuff like that, about her or about some of his old travel companions, and yet still denied having friends or attachments in this world outside of his master. Though she did sometimes wonder if he simply idolized anyone who wasn’t cruel to him. Either way, it was an appreciated statement even if she yearned to be able to confirm its truth in a more concrete way.

“You are kind to say so. I have a similar faith in you.” She said, and she did believe it. Kadri gave a laugh, and the thinly veiled pain in his eyes made it clear that he didn’t.

“Truly, you are too generous. Ah, but here we are, I don’t think I’ve been to this place before. Can you tell me of it?” he said. Fiera silently noted the quick change of subject, and then went on to tell him whatever she could of the little restaurant they had come upon.

She had always been called ‘cold’ and ‘distant’. And even now, she knew she was not in love. But she didn’t feel cold, or distant, when she was chasing her memories or spending time with Kadri. She wasn’t sure why he seemed to be an exception, perhaps it was simply because he had no expectations of her other than to fulfill her side of their agreements without mocking or betraying him, which was easy enough to do since he always did the same on his end. No, the feeling wasn’t love, but it was a warm kind of feeling. She wondered if they were friends, or only amiable business partners, or if it really made a difference. Certainly, if she called him her friend to his face, he’d probably find some excuse to go away and never return. But privately, she would like to think of him as a friend. She didn’t know what her past would reveal, about herself or about those she must have known, but there was always the present, and a dream for the future.

Perhaps the memory of joy and peace could still be grown in some other way.  

[sebthesnipe]

The Dreamer by Whatwashernameagin an Analysis? Part 2

All portions:

Chapter 1: Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Chapter 2: Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

The Dreamer

by @whatwashernameagain

Reminder: Spoilers under cut!

So… Where were we? Aw yes… The desperation for acceptance of a POV which is both unique and far out of the reach of the human populous as a whole. In other in other words, Logan being very lonely and wanting to share his ideas with the world and hoping against hope he will not always be alone in them… heartbreaking…

The next portion of Whatwashernameagain’s work introduces The Dreamer. Going into the work with foreknowledge of the ship and the characters within, we as the readers (or I, rather) know that Roman is The Dreamer and thus know that Logan is referring to him. So, to be completely honest I am not sure if I am imagining this next bit or if it is truly the case (hence why I have chosen to focus more on Reader-Response theory rather than some of the more closed reading disciplines). However, in Logan’s first description of The Dreamer there are a few …. Odd choices in wordings. Eva writes:

“The one thing consistently standing between him and the fulfillment of his plans had turned out to be an outrageously insignificant detail…. This thorn in his shoe showed up at the most inopportune moments, predictably puffing up his chest in his ridiculous, unpractical costume, ready to boldly reassure the public before thoughtlessly storming in to hinder his plans with his irritating presence” (Whatwashernameagain).

There are a number of things in this small paragraph that gives way to yet even more of Logan’s personality, still molding the mental image that the author is painting while still leaving the blanks to be filled in our heads. ‘Consistently’ being italicized, for example, provides me with the mental image of a small tick of annoyance like Logan is mentally hissing the word while his index finger and thumb are pressed together drawing it out with annoyance (kinda like Moriarty during the pool scene in BBC’s Sherlock). Anyways, it immediately pulls the reader back into his frustration but this time… something is different.

Lets recap a moment, So far we know that Logan is a cold calculating man with only his work to keep him company; we know that he wishes for someone to share his view points but otherwise hasn’t really shown any emotional fluctuations (he obviously has emotions, there just seem muted almost) and yet his train of thought here, indicated by the italics is fairly harsh. His choice of words far less calculated than we’ve seen thus far. Here we see him use something akin to an oxymoron calling The Dream ‘an outrageously insignificant detail’. Why would he use so many words when a simple ‘insignificant’ would work? Unless… He is compensating. Many authors will push a thought or description to further lengths than necessary to give the owner of said thoughts a unique perspective. One of the best I’ve ever seen/read would be Robert Jordan in his The Wheel of Time series. Jordan switches from POV to POV flawlessly without pausing to explain it to the reader but as talented as he is at making each so unique the reader never needs the explanation, following along without a hiccup. As much as I would love to say that Eva is there, she isnt... at least not yet… but then again, I haven’t found anyone on par with Robert Jordan’s use of POV and character development as of yet. My point is that she uses the type of flow shifting POV very fluidly without having to spell it out for the reader; and the use of the additional descriptors are a testament to that. (I hope I am making sense I am so very tired #dead).

Logan goes on to talk about the ‘puffing up’ and how ‘unpractical’ The Dreamer’s costume is and his ‘irritating presence’, he talks about grand speeches and attempting to appeal to Logan’s ‘humanity’. The tone of the paragraphs is that of annoyed humor as if it were amusing to think Logan had any humanity at all. That being said… another literary study comes to mind when reading this portion of the work. I will do my best to keep from going too much in depth but basically back in the early EARLY 1900s Sigmund Freud invented psychoanalysis with his publication of The interpretation of Dreams (Rivkin, Julie). Why was it such a big deal? Well, before the publication psychology assumed that what goes on in the mind was limited to the conscious (Rivkin, Julie). What does that have to do with Logan? Well, the revolution was a huge part of history and the strides that were made in psychology didn’t only affect the medical world but the literary one as well. Psychoanalysis wasn’t only limited to a person but the work they created as well; it began to be used as a way of studying literature, analyzing the author through their work. But… I’m veering a bit too far to the left. The reason this is important is because some of Frued’s research was based on the ‘defenses’ that the ego mobilizes against unacceptable libidianal or unconscious material (Rivkin, Julie). I.e. The mind can invert a feeling into its opposite, so that a yearning for contact can become a desire to do violence (Rivkin, Julie). That, of course, is an extreme but we see the same psychological mechanism here for Logan. The Dreamer is a man who represents the very thing Logan is determined to pull down; it would be extremely illogical to have any sort of attraction to the man. There for, to put it simply, he’s in denial. (Yes… I am aware I went into a bunch of Fruedian jargon just to say Logan is in denial and everyone already knew that… He would have approved though so I’m not editing it out. You will just have to deal with it.)

This says a lot about Roman’s character as well. Those who are familiar with the character knows how outrageous the creative man can be, but Eva writes (from Logan’s POV) ‘the idiot was actually attempting to change his mind’ (Whatwashernameagain). This give another shift in the emotional tone of the work, feeding off Logan’s annoyance and dark undertones and changing it into something more hopeful; giving us our first glimpse at the painting of The Dreamer; so far nothing but a symbol of hope (and a ‘thorn in Logan’s shoe’).

Going to reverse for a moment as well. Bringing up the metaphor of ‘a thorn in his shoe’; there is a lot to be said about this line as well. It really puts The Dreamer in perspective from The Utilitarian’s point of view…. At least his conscious one. It shows that Logan wants the hero to be beneath him, that he consciously tries to convince himself that he is. That The Dream is at his feet causing more annoyance than actually damage. I’m a sucker for a good metaphor and this one certainly isn’t a bad one.

Within the next paragraph Logan goes on ranting about The Dreamer being a nuisance, continuing on his rant that really only cements his attraction to the hero. But, once again, the image of The Dreamer is becoming more detailed. Logan describes him as ‘clinging desperately to his ancient, deontological ethics with its rules that mustn’t be broken at any cost’ (Whatwashernameagain). It sounds as if despite the way Logan whines about The Dreamer he sees him as misguided. If he truly believed that the ethics The Dreamer represents were the man’s own then we would no doubt see the frustration we did when Logan spoke about the state of the world. Instead, we see the deflection of the blame from The Dreamer to ‘ancient, deontological ethics. It is obvious that Logan doesn’t blame him but rather sees that he is attempting to simply ‘do his duty’. This provides a sense of honor for The Dreamer which is quite fitting for Roman really.

Logan only cements his denial and affection for the hero but commenting on his concern for the man’s well-being despite his inconvenient presence: “Many a times he’d foiled his operation with simple stupidity, like running into an already unsafe sweat-shop he was about to blow up in order to rescue the industrialist he’d tied up in the vicinity” (Whatwashernameagain). It is possible that he has this concern for everyone that is not directly involved in the crimes he is attempting to shine some light on but it is doubt full.

To add to the growing case against Logan’s inaffection for the man, he actually tries to defend himself! He claims that he hadn’t planned on killing the industrialist, just make a statement and ‘singe his eyebrows’ (Whatwashernameagain). I love this line; it does a lot for the story is so few words. So, first it paints Logan, the cold calculating villain, as a sulking teenager who has been scolded. I love the imagery. It also brings a bit more humor into the work than the subtle outlines of Logan’s denial had been providing. It is makes it even more clear that Logan does not dislike Roman enough to actually want to hurt him; in fact, quite the opposite. It paints Roman as someone he would like to protect, emphasizing the ‘misguided hero’ view of The Dreamer once more.

Now to the good bits: “He knew very well how much the media loved [The Dreamer] with his uniform accentuating his broad shoulders and his lush, caramel hair, his blinding smile and perfect, tan skin” (Whatwashernameagain); Really Logan? Lush, caramel hair? Who talks like that? Only someone with a crush…. And boy do you have it bad! You think he’s smexy with a capital ‘M’! I don’t even have to explain this one… we all know… We all understand.

After that oh so very subtle remark, Eva follows up with a ‘He was a nuisance, is what [Logan] was trying to say’ (Whatwashernameagain)…. Mhmmm suuurrrrree D-E-N-I-A-L. Freud would love you! Just saying!

I think from now on I’m just going to break it down paragraph by paragraph. This is getting quite long and I don’t want anyone having to jump back and forth. So:

“The Utilitarianist prided himself in his polite, calm manners, yet this – man – brought out a temper he was not fond of. How dare this simpleton speak to him about right and wrong? Despite knowing the math advised against it, he found himself drawn into moral arguments repeatedly … and had almost gotten caught by those strong hands several times due to his frustration. He found himself simply unable to refrain from correcting the man when his claims were just so utterly stupid.” (Whatwashernameagain)

We’re going to jump back into Freud’s work now… be prepared. So, obviously Logan blames Roman for Logan’s reactions, his loss of self-control. This is known as projection. In projection, we assign to others feelings or thoughts in ourselves that are unacceptable (Rivkin, Julie). What possible feelings could Logan be having that are unacceptable? Maybe it has something to do with being caught by those ‘strong hands’. -eyebrow wiggle- This is also a good example of intellectualization. In intellectualization, we avoid potentially overwhelming feelings by focusing out attention on things that allow us to exercise that part of our mind devoted to reasoning rather than emotion (Rivkin, Julie): Hence, the arguments.

Before I move on, I want to point out the author’s talent here. Writing characters with a lot of depth can be difficult especially with characters that weren’t originally yours. I say that because I do these analysis’ constantly; I do them for work, I do them for school… I obviously do them for fun on occasion… but, while talking psychoanalysis can be daunting and perhaps a bit boring; the fact that I can apply these theories to a CHARACTER not the author is astounding. That is when you know someone has a great talent for their character formations. Sure, I can slap a few fancy words to describe a character but to actually be able to analyze a fictional character’s psyche… that is when you know that they are fully formed.  

I’m afraid I will need to end Part 2 here. Once again work is approaching. I will be back with a Part 3 When I get the chance, however. Hopefully, I can get through more than 5-6 paragraphs of the work then… Some dialog is coming up so it should be a bit quicker. I am quite enjoying this analysis and I wanted to thank everyone who had read/commented/liked/reblogged Part 1; and for all of the asks I have received. I quite enjoy hearing from you and love answering questions so feel free to drop a line! Special thanks to Whatwashernameagain, as always, for writing so brilliantly and just being a genuinely wonderful human being. Until next time…

 (Please forgive any poor grammar or misspelling. I tend to run short on time so I don’t really proofread)

Rivkin, Julie. Literary Theory: a Practical Introduction. Wiley-Blackwell, 2017.

Whatwashernameagain. “The Dreamer - Chapter 1.” Hello Guys Gals And Non Binary Friends, 8 Sept. 2019, https://whatwashernameagain.tumblr.com/post/187581477262/the-dreamer-chapter-1.

[ashis2gay4u]

Heroes Of Olympus Heathers! AU

Here's the character list, in case people get confused:

Veronica: Percy Jackson

JD: Nico di Angelo

Martha D: Annabeth Chase

Heather C: Nancy Bobofit

Heather M: Silena Beauregard

Heather D: Drew Tanaka

Ram S: Luke Castellan

Kurt K: Octavian Augur

Big Bud Dean: Hades di Angelo

Veronica's Mom: Sally Jackson

Veronica's Dad: Poseidon Jackson

Kurt and Ram's Dad's: Hermes Castellan / Jeremy Augur

Ms. Fleming: Hecate Hearths

Principal Gowan: Zeus Skyson

'[text]' signifies what Percy is writing in his journal.

Now, on to the story!!

~

Percy Jackson stepped into the high-school, taking a deep breath as he tightened his grip on his open journal and pen. Another first day at Hell.

A boy bumped into him, one of the jocks.

Percy froze, and glared at him, "Hey, don't be a dick-"

The jock laughed, "What did you just say to me, bitch?" he asked.

"N-nothing," Percy replied, inching away, realizing who he was.

"That's what I thought, wimp," he said, smirking. His best friend walked up to them, and pushed Percy into a locker.

'Introducing Octavian Augur, the lead quarterback of the football team, and his best friend Luke Castellan, the captain.'

'Octavian allows his dick to lead him everywhere, and has a sense of cruelty regarding everybody. He's also the smartest guy on the football team, which is like being the tallest dwarf. Luke is charming, but is obsessed with being known. He did everything and anything to make sure people knew where he stood, and who he was.'

"What you got there, sissy? A diary?" Luke laughed, pointing at it.

"What a fag," Octavian added, knocking it out of his hands.

Percy watched in distaste as the two high-fived, and went to pick up his journal, only to find his best friend Annabeth Chase standing there, holding it out to him.

"Here you go, Seaweed Brain," she said, smiling.

Percy smiled back, taking the journal from her and cradling it against his chest, "Thanks, Wise Girl."

"No problem, Perce."

"Another year of Hell, and then University or College. Did you get your applications replied to yet?" Percy asked, opening his journal to continue his entry.

"Yep, all of them."

"You sent out ten, how in-"

"You must forget why you call me 'Wise Girl', Seaweed Brain," she teased, laughing as he blushed. "What about you?"

"Nothing. I sent out five, and no reply from anywhere. I'm doomed if I can't get into New Rome University, it's where Uncle Neptune and Dad went and they're both top-notch marine biologists."

Annabeth hummed, staring off into the distance. He followed her gaze, and found them both staring at Luke's ass.

"Annabeth-"

"I know, I know... But he has to still love me, I know he does..."

Percy was about to speak up, when people started clearing out the hallway. He quickly pulled Annabeth aside, and watched as the "Heathers" walked by.

They aren't all named Heather, but they definitely fit the trope in their own way; gorgeous, dumb, and cruel.

The first Heather stepped out, brushing her long, claw shaped, hot pink nails through her hair. She wore her usual emerald green outfit as she strutted down the hall, winking at the popular boys and sneering at the geeks and rebels.

'Introducing Drew Tanaka, the "Beauty Queen".  Bulimic, narcissistic, and obsessed with sex. Has a mean streak a mile wide.'

Percy didn't like her at all.

The second Heather stepped out, giggling as she stared at her phone, probably texting her boyfriend. She wore her usual yellow attire, which she somehow managed to pull off despite her black hair and crystal blue eyes.

'Silena Beauregard, the "dumb" one. She was sweet and kinder than the other two, but she got picked on for it often by her two best friends.'

Percy liked Silena, they used to be friends when they were younger, but then high school came and they stopped talking. He's sure she doesn't even know his name anymore.

The final Heather stepped out, donning her blood red clothes and scrunchie. She walked to the front of the group, seeming unimpressed with her friends.

'And last but not least, Nancy Bobofit, the queen fuckin' bee...'

Percy paused in his writings, before smirking.

'She is a mythic bitch.'

People started whispering about them, saying how they'd wish they were nicer, how pretty they were, how sitting at their table even once grants immunity, etc.

One guy made a creepy comment about a basement, nudity, a camera, and rats, but he chose to ignore it for his own sanity.

He watched as they went into one of the few non-gendered washrooms, fitted with three toilets, three stalled urinals, and three sinks each.

He suddenly felt the urge to pee, and after giving Annabeth a look of "wish me luck" he followed them in, heading into the first stall he saw.

Toilet, dammit all.

He could hear Drew puking in the stall next to his, and he cringed inwardly as Nancy said, "Pull it together, Drew. Bulimia is so last year."

"Yeah, Drew, maybe you should see a doctor," Silena added helpfully in a softer tone.

"Maybe you're right, Silena, I should."

The door opened, and the voice of Hecate Hearths, the student counselor, rang out into the room.

"Ah, Nancy, Silena..." She paused as she heard Drew puking again, "...And of course, Drew. Didn't you hear the bell? You're all late for class."

Percy quickly set to work in his journal, a plan forming in his head.

"Drew isn't feeling well, we're helping her," Nancy said sweetly. Her voice made Percy's blood boil, but he knew he couldn't back out now that the note was finished.

"Actually, Miss Hearths, I have the hall pass right here!" Percy said, flushing and stepping out of the stall.

Drew was now standing next to her friends, and the three of them stared at Percy in shock and awe.

Miss Hearth checked the note, and nodded. "Alright, but get back to class soon!"

As soon as she was gone, Percy found himself cornered by the three girls.

"Who are you?" Nancy demanded, glaring at him.

"P-Percy Jackson."

"Why would you do that?" Drew questioned next, eyeing him suspiciously.

"I want immunity," he blurted, "If you let me sit at your table just once, no talking necessary, people will think you at least tolerate me and leave me alone."

Nancy laughed, "Seriously?"

"I also do report cards and late slips!" he added.

"What about prescriptions?" Drew asked curiously.

"Drew!"

"Sorry, Nancy."

Nancy grabbed his chin, squishing his cheeks, and moved his face side to side, "For a greasy little nobody, you do have good bone structure..."

"And a symmetrical face!" Silena said excitedly, "If I took a meat cleaver down the center of your skull, I'd have two matching halves. Very important!"

"Of course, you could stand to lose a few pounds," Drew said, smirking at him.

"You know, this could be beautiful... Some eyeliner, maybe some light eye-shadow and mascara, and we're on our way. Silena, get this boy some blush, and Drew I need your brush. Let's make him beautiful~"

"Let's make him beautiful!" the other two repeated, doing as they were told.

"Okay?" Nancy asked sweetly as she sat him on the counter of the sink.

"Okay!" Percy said excitedly.

~

Percy was nervous as they all stepped out of the bathroom during second period, his face all made up with a blue-green eye shadow, black eyeliner, red blush, and mascara. His hair was somehow tamed due to Nancy's harsh brushing.

People turned to look at the four of them, and once again, the halls erupted into whispers.

"Who's that guy?"

"Who's the sexy dude?"

"Who is he?"

Nancy smirked and pushed him to the forefront, and Percy gasped as he turned to see Annabeth staring at him, "Percy...?"

"Percy."

"Percy?"

"Percy!"

Everybody started fawning over him, and his face lit up like a lighthouse on the shore at night, "Fuck yes!"

Nancy smirked, turning to the other girls. She nodded her chin at Annabeth, who was staring at Percy with a look of shock.

"Let's see how much of a man he really is," she whispered.

Drew and Silena nodded, giggling.

~

"No, no way!" Percy said, "It'll crush her!"

Nancy's smile faded to a snarl, "Are we gonna have a problem here?" she snapped, glaring him down.

He gulped, backing away.

"You've got a bone to pick?" she advanced, backing him up against the lockers. Drew and Silena moved to block his only two exits.

"You've come so far, why now are you pulling on my dick? I'd normally slap your face off, and everybody here could watch~" she purred, smirking.

Percy suddenly became aware of everybody watching the scene in silence, and he felt his body begin to tremble in fear.

Drew snatched the note from his hand and headed towards Luke.

He barely managed to get it back from her, but he gripped it like a lifeline as Nancy snapped her head in his direction.

"Well, I'm feeling nice, so here's some advice, listen up, bitch."

Silena, in all her pure glory, began to speak, Drew following her lead.

"I like!" They managed to say it in sync, which scared Percy half to death.

"Lookin' hot, buying stuff they cannot~" Nancy sang, her voice much more attractive than her face.

"I like!"

"Drinking hard, maxing dad's credit card~"

"I like!"

"Skippin' gym, scaring her-" she turned and smirked towards Annabeth, causing Percy's blood to run like ice through his veins, "-screwing him~" she then pointed at Octavian, who waved.

"I like!"

"Killer clothes, kicking nerds in the nose!"

He scrambled back as her leg swung up inches away from his face.

It's official, he's died and gone to Hell.

"If you lack the balls, you can go play dolls, let your mommy fix you a snack!" Nancy snapped, advancing again, "Or you could come smoke, pound some rum and coke, in my Porsche with the quarterback!"

"Honey what you waiting for?" Silena asked, managing to slip the note from his grip.

He reached out for it, only to have Drew block his way, "Step into my candy store!"

"You just gotta prove you ain't a pussy, anymore!" Nancy said, motioning to Silena, who had already delivered the note.

"And step into our candy store~" the three said, smirking.

"Percy, Percy look! Luke just invited me to his homecoming party! This proves he's been thinking about me!" Annabeth said, rushing over, the note in hand.

"Color me stoked," Percy said nervously, feeling extremely guilty at the excited look on her face.

"I'm so happy!" she said, seeming on the verge of tears.

"Yeah..." he said, forcing a smile.

~

"McDonald's has always been my place to go, always. No matter where we move, it's always right there!" Nico di Angelo said with a small smile.

Percy laughed, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach as he payed for the coffees, "Yeah, but it'll make you fat."

"Not if you work out daily, it doesn't," Nico insisted, "Come on, do I look fat to you?"

Percy, in all his idiocy, made the mistake of eyeing him up and down, hoping Nico didn't notice how his eyes lingered on his lips.

Blushing, he said, "No, you don't."

"Exactly."

"PERCY! WHERE IS MY COFFEE?"

"C-coming!"

"You have some... Interesting choice in friends."

"Yeah, I hate them, but I need them."

"Why?"

Percy said nothing, merely walked out.

~

That question is what was brought to the forefront of his mind as Nancy stood before him, hands on her hips.

"Nobody will talk to you, touch you, or even look at you! You don't get to be a nobody, you get to be dead to everybody!" she screeched, causing his ears to hurt.

Silena giggled, "I know who I'm sitting with at lunch on Monday."

Drew smirked, "Do you, big boy~?"

Percy turned to look at the others at the party, but everybody was turned away.

"I-"

"Come Monday morning... Percy stew will be on the menu~" Nancy purred with a smirk akin to that of a wolves before it tore out the jugular of it's prey.

He fled the party, tears in his eyes.

~

"P-Percy, what are you doing in my room?"

Percy took a deep breath as he stared at the other boy, before smirking, all of his uneasiness fading away as he stepped away from the window.

"I'm sorry, but I really had to wake you."

"W-why?"

Percy's smirk evolved into a huge grin, his cheeks flushing a dark red, "You see... I decided I must ride you 'til I break you~"

"W-what-"

"Nancy says I got to go, you're my last meal on Death Row," he purred, moving to straddle the younger boy, "So shut your stupid mouth, and lose those boxers~"

Nico's face went bright red, and he pulled Percy down for a kiss.

The rest of the night went even better then Percy had hoped it would.

~

"She's dead! Fuck! I just killed my best friend-"

"Percy, calm down, love," Nico cooed, cupping the older boy's face.

"W-we need to call 911-"

"-and get ourselves arrested for murder?" Nico questioned, an eyebrow raised.

"Well, what do you suggest we do?" Percy shouted, on the verge of a panic attack.

"Suicide note," Nico said, standing up and grabbing a pen and paper. "Write."

~

"Hey, Dad!" Hades di Angelo said, smiling at his son.

Nico rolled his eyes, his grip around Percy's shoulder getting tighter, "Hey, son."

"How was work?" Hades asked, before changing his voice, "Oh! It was crazy! They wouldn't let me blow it up, but I did it anyways!"

"That's great, son."

"Thanks, Dad," Hades finally noticed Percy, who smiled weakly and waved shyly, "Hey, Dad, meet my new girlfriend!" he added in a poor imitation of Nico's voice.

"Dad, this is Percy. Percy, this is.. My dad."

"Hello, Percy."

"Hi, Hades..."

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" Hades asked.

"Oh, no... My mom is making my favorite for dinner, fried salmon. With lots of ah... Salt."

"Oh, that's funny, isn't it dad? The last time I saw mom, she was waving out of a building you blew up seconds later."

"Yes, son," Hades said darkly, "Yes, it was."

"Uhm... I'm gonna go..."

~

"Drew! Silena! Open the door!"

"On no, oh no!" Drew laughed, locking the doors.

Silena gave him an apologetic glance, "No, no... No."

"You make our balls so blue~" Luke sang drunkenly.

"They're hanging sadly~" Octavian added.

Percy ran off, tears in his eyes and a burning rage in the pit of his stomach..

~

"Sword fight, eh?" Drew purred, the red scrunchie in her hair standing out against the green outfit she wore.

"What?" Percy questioned, staring at her deadpan.

"The sword fight in your mouth, idiot," Drew snarled.

"What? When-"

"Last night, yeah! Turns out the pretty girl was Percy Jackson dressed in drag!" a kid said from a few meters away.

'What?'

"Oh, everybody is talking about last night, Percy~"

"You bitch-"

"Apparently not like you, mutt. Go slobber on some more cock, eh?"

~

"Sword fight, eh?"

"Nico, I-"

"I know, Sea Prince, I know. Come on, we'll make 'em pay~"

~

Nico smirked as he loaded up his gun, "Not real, just tranquilizers. My grandpa Kronos brought them back from World War two."

"Well... Okay. What do we do though?"

"Plant a note saying they killed themselves for being gay for each other."

"Hah! Brilliant!"

"Mmhmm, they made you cry, so now they'll pay. They'll wake up as laughingstocks."

"I love you," Percy said, kissing Nico.

He hummed against Percy's lips, "Our love is God, baby."

~

"We love our dead gay sons, whether they were pansies or not!" Hermes Castellan and Jeremy Augur said at the funeral, just before Luke's poor mother broke down in tears.

"My son!" she wailed, "My beautiful, beautiful son!"

~

"You're a fucking psychopath! Get the hint, Nico!"

"But, Babe, our love is God~"

"Then God is dead!" Percy screamed, glaring daggers at the other.

He stormed off, ignoring Nico's call of, "You'll be back, sure as day turns into night! Nothing can break our bond!"

~

Silena clung to him, gripping his t-shirt so tightly he was scared her nails would cut into his skin through the fabric.

"I stand in a boat... On a raging black ocean, low in the water, and nowhere to go... The loneliest lifeboat, filled with people I know..."

"I know, Silena, but don't worry, we'll make it to shore someday..."

~

"Percy, please, talk to us son!" Poseidon Jackson cried, waving the book Moby Dick around.

"Your problems seem like life and death," Sally Jackson added, staring at her son with tears in her eyes, "But believe me, they aren't!"

"You don't know what my life is like!" Percy screamed back.

"Yo, boy, keep it together~" Nancy purred in his ear.

"You've burned that red scrunchie, come join us in Hell!" Octavian and Luke said in unison.

"Somebody's here for you~" Nancy said, smirking.

Percy's eyes widened, and he rushed upstairs.

~

"Don't make me come in there, Percy."

"Go away! I'll scream, and Mom'll call the cops!"

"Don't you want to make s'mores with me? We can smile and cuddle while their screams burn out! Ha! Get it, burn out?"

Percy knew he had only minutes to figure out how to get away, when he spotted the bed sheets.

'He wants suicide so badly? I'll give him one he didn't plan...'

"Percy, open the door! Open the door right now!" Nico snapped, brandishing his gun.

Silence.

"Don't make me come in there!"

Silence.

"On the count of three!"

Silence.

"One!"

Silence.

"Two- Fuck it!"

He kicked in the door, and froze at what he saw.

"No... Percy, why...?" Nico whispered brokenly, dropping to his knees. "You were all I could trust... Please don't leave me alone..."

The hanging body said nothing, merely swung back and forth.

"I can't do this alone," Nico sobbed, yanking at his hair. He suddenly got a crazy look on his face, onyx eyes wide and crazed, his grin so wide it could split his face in half, "Still, I will if I must!

He climbed back out the window, laughing.

"Percy?" Sally questioned, "I brought you a snack, blue cookies-"

She saw him there, hanging in the closet, and screamed.

His eyes opened.

~

"Drop the bomb."

Nico chuckled, "Oh, this little thing? I'd barely call this a bomb..." Percy gaped as the smile on Nico's face stretched, a crazed look in his eyes. “This is merely to trigger the packs of thermals upstairs in the gym, now those are bombs!”

Percy knew he didn’t stand much of a chance against Nico, but he also knew he had to try.

Nobody was going to hurt his friends anymore.

"I'm a fucking dead boy walking, and you're going down with me!" Percy shouted, tackling Nico to the floor.

Nico laughed, "I knew that noose was too loose!"

The gun went skidding far off, and as Percy was just about to reach it, Nico pinned him to the ground, smiling at him crazily. "I don't think so~!"

Just as his hands clasped around Percy's neck, a gunshot rang off.

Percy gave a sob as Nico spat up some blood, his beautiful onyx eyes wide in shock.

And then the unexpected happened.

Nico kissed him, sweet and gentle, before standing up and grabbing the bomb.

~

"I.. Am damaged. Far too damaged," Nico said softly.

Percy merely stared at him, not knowing where this was going.

"But you... You are not beyond repair," he added, looking up at him with a sad smile. He pressed the button on the bomb, the one to set it off.

"Wait-"

"Stick around a little longer, make things better, it's too late for me."

"Please, no!"

"You beat me fair and square..."

"Nico-"

"Please, stand back now, I'm not quite sure what this thing will do... I don't want my Sea Prince getting hurt," the younger replied, motioning with his hand for Percy to back up.

Percy took ten steps back, eyes wide in horror as the timer clicked down.

10.

"A little further..."

Percy took a dozen more steps back, full-on sobbing by this point.

5.

"Our love is God, baby," Nico said with certainty.

3.

"...Say hi to God."

~

"You look like Hell," Drew said with a sneer.

"I just got back," Percy replied, walking up to her.

"Hey-! What're you-"

In one swift motion, he kissed her cheek, yanking the red scrunchie from her hair.

"No more. War is over. We're all damaged, we're all broken up and hurt, but that's okay! We'll heal, all of us! If nobody loves us now, someday, somebody will."

Drew put a hand to her cheek, blushing as she glared, "You stupid-"

"Shut up, Drew," Silena said, "Percy's right."

Percy smiled at her, and she smiled back at him softly.

He turned to Annabeth, who was sat in her wheelchair, "Annabeth, are you free tonight...? I was thinking, maybe, we could hang out..? Rent a movie, something with a happy ending..?"

"Are there any happy endings...?" Annabeth asked softly.

"Maybe not now, but someday there will be," he said confidently.

She smiled, throwing her arms open.

He eagerly obliged, hugging her tightly.

"For now, let's party!" A kid yelled.

For the first time since he first became a "Heather", Percy felt happy, and free.

{La Fin}

~Ashton Bende

[thismads]

1-102 thanks

1.) what’s a song you depict with your childhood? Best of both world - Hannah montana PLS 2.) did you have a memorable childhood pet? yes my angels may they rest in heaven3.) have you ever been drunk? nope, alcohol is useless and stupid4.) have you ever tried drugs?  nope, drugs are useless and stupid 5.) have you ever completely regretted what you’ve said? nope I rarely does, even when i’m angry i’m honest and people that tells that you don’t mean what you say when you’re angry you always do, it’s  just that you’re more honest when you’re angry6.) have you ever made someone cry? yes, I selena gomezed my old justin bieber :D 7.) has someone ever made you cry? yes8.) have you ever been in love? if so, describe the moment you knew it. yes, and I knew it when I couldn’t feel my cheek from smiling when he only said hi 9.) which came first the chicken or the egg? chicken, next :D 10.) are you part of the lgbtq+ community? do you support them? nope i’m not a part of it but yes I support them 298456543256543% they are superior i said what i said 11.) how many siblings do you have? 1, this little shithead i’d b nothing without :D12.) have you ever been in love with someone you couldn’t love? yes13.) are you a good cook? ask @lordbieber he would ask me to cook for him all the time haha but fr I tend to be a good cook tbh14.) what is your favorite tv show? Buffy The Vampire Slayer15.) what is the last movie you cried during? Sleepers16.) what are songs you’ve cried to when you first heard them? (if any) Anyone - Demi fucking goddess Lovato17.) do you have a middle name? Marie 18.) have you been out of your country? yes19.) are you a chocolate fan or not? DUH DOES A BLIND PERSON WANTS TO SEE20.) how many people have you kissed? a girl never reveal those ;) 21.) what is your favorite album? any P!nk’s old albums22.) what is your dream car? a porsche or Maserati23.) what is your lucky/favorite number? 624.) what is your favorite flower? roses and cherry blossoms25.) books or movies, why? books lmaoooo just because it’s superior, it comes from 26.) have you ever been on a blind date? yes thank you ophelie :D 27.) has one of your friends ever backstabbed you? DUH more than I could count28.) have you ever backstabbed one of your friends? never29.) what thing do you symbolize love with? hurting30.) do you have neat handwriting? nope 31.) do you have a friend with benefits? aaaaah lmao nope32.) do you want a friend with benefits? nope i’m too much of a helpless dumb and depressive romantic bitch :D 33.) if you could be anything in the world, what would you be? right now? toilet paper cause this shit’s gold these day LMAOOO jk but idk .. a star or a planet, as far away as possible form human kind34.) have you ever been blackout drunk? nope, hate alcohol, useless and stupid35.) have you ever met someone famous? Yes36.) how many concerts have you been to? 037.) which concerts have you been to? none38.) do you have a hidden talent? I exude dumb bitch energy for decades to come without anyone asking :D 39.) what do you do when you’re stressed? die lmao no but sleep or listening to music40.) do you think money can buy love? dunno i’ve always been a broke ass bitch :D 41.) how old would you date? up to 2 year older than me42.) have you ever done something illegal? yes43.) what is your biggest fear? spiders, horror movies and not being able to breathe44.) what is an unusual fear you have? fuits seeds lmaooo I hate those they creep me out lmaoo lemon seeds? HORROR MOVIE45.) can you drive? nope46.) do you believe in supernatural creatures? i’m here so DUH yes47.) do you believe in karma? yes and everyone should48.) what is one quality you need in your partner? loyalty, honesty and sense of humor 49.) do looks matter? yes, cause if the man looks like a hobo I won’t be too turned on lmao50.) does size matter? height speaking? yes. i’m 5′1 but other than that I mean we can manage ;) 51.) who is the last person you forgave? myself xx52.) what is your favorite ice cream flavor? vanilla 53.) what languages can you speak besides english? french, and a lil bit of spanish and italian54.) ever been on a plane? yes, best time of my life55.) ever been on a boat? yes, worst time of my life56.) is there anyone you’ve lost touch with that you wish you hadn’t? nope57.) are there any friendships you regret? nope all of the people that are in my life are meant to be there and those who aren’t must not be there at this exact moment of my life :D58.) are there any friendships you wish you could make? duh.. where is madison beer 59.) have you ever stayed awake for 24 (+) hours? yes60.) have you ever walked outside after 12 am? yes61.) have you ever seen a sunrise completely through? yes62.) are you scared of rollercoasters? nope not at all my biggest dream is too jump off a plane63.) on a scale of 1-10 how stressed are you usually? I’m not very stressed.. unless it’s school lmaoo but i’d say my peak is 2 64.) do you have any plans this weekend? It’s a quarantine time bebe so I plan on breathing which is already more than enough65.) do you miss anyone right now? yes66.) who do you wish you were talking to right now? aaaah secrets67.) if you could have any superpower, what would it be? controlling the 4th elements68.) who is your favorite superhero? Henry Cavill, yes he saves life with his accent and features I SAID WHAT I SAID69.) are you dirty minded? yes lmaoo soz xx70.) what is your favorite song from every decade starting at that 80’s?80′s (my fave era about music) : Part time lover - Stevie Wonder &  Hotel california by the eagles / 90′s: Unbreak my heart : Toni Braxton / 2000′s: Lose yourself - Eminem & back to black - Amy Winehouse 10′s ugh there’s so many bops atm i’m 71.) how many kids, if any, do you want? 272.) who is your biggest OTP? Me and pasta73.) what is your favorite food? pasta74.) do you want to be married one day? Yes75.) dogs or cats? cats76.) do you drink enough water daily? Nope I don’t drink water on a daily77.) have you ever seen a shooting star? yes the most beautiful thing the life has given us78.) if you had the opportunity to go to the moon, would you? fly me to the moon and let me play among the starssss YES I WOULD BYE WORLD79.) how many best friends do you have? I have a lot of good friends but @thisamick‘s my main bitch80.) when was the last time you cried? Idk I was watching Sleepers!81.) have you ever laughed so hard you peed yourself? YES82.) have you ever made anyone laugh so hard they peed? Yes I did it was the funniest shit83.) if you could travel any where in the world, where would you go? California 84.) what are 3 words you would use to describe yourself?  Loyal, funny and @thisamick said perfect but it’s all a lie so I’d say honest :D85.) do you consider yourself a loyal person? one of the most loyal person u’ll ever find86.) what is your favorite season and why? Fall, because the colors, the weather, the mood, the leaves on the ground, all of it87.) have you ever told anyone you loved them, and didn’t mean it? nope never omg what a horrible move88.) do you know how to play any instruments? I wish but nope89.) do like like falling asleep to music or not? yesss omg my fave, a daily routine, a lifestyle90.) what are you allergic to? life and people91.) have you ever wanted to be someone else for a day just so you could see what there life is like? yessss92.) if you could be any character from your favorite tv show would you, and if so, who would you be? yes I would def be Buffy93.) if you could be best friends with any celebrity who would it be and why? Madison Beer or Angelina Jolie94.) are you outgoing? when you know me yes95.) have you ever wanted to kiss someone, but weren’t brave enough to? duh yes96.) are you a good flirt? tbh yes lmao97.) have you ever been turned down, or have you ever turned anyone down? yes and no at least I don’t think I ever did?98.) which planet is your favorite? Jupiter or Saturn99.) are you superstitious? no100.) are you a good listener? yes 101.) are you a good kisser? hun I leave a indelible mark baby ;) 102.) would you kiss any of your friends? girl friends? yes // boy friends? nope

[migleefulmoments]

"Hahaha. A friend pointed this out. W online shops too!" What does this even mean?! I don't know anyone in 2020 who doesn't online shop besides my 80 year old grandparents because they refuse to learn how to use a computer 😂 I don't get how Will, a 30 something year old man, online shopping is worthy enough for Abby to comment on it. I'm sure Chris does it too. And Darren.

On Nov 5, Darren wrote this post and the cc fandom lost their shit. ��  

They decided that organizing 10 costumes for multiple events in two different states for two different people was not worthy of acknowledgment- especially since they wore several purchased costumes. They spent the next 30-ish days mocking her “online shopping skills” like the petty idiots they are and now they bring it up two months later. 

Anonymous asked: this is funny, C posted a photo of beard, D posted photos with the beard. Almost like they were sitting next to each other and saying “ok ok I will say this”

ajw720 answered: The only difference, C controls his SM and the bearding, D does not, but they knew the Halloween post was coming when C posted his belated b-day wishes (not that he acknowledged they were late).  

It really is, if you can remove the very human, tragic element, like a script for a really bad D Movie.  C posts “Happy Birthday, Babe!” a day after the man’s actual b-day and “D” praises his fake bride for MAKING TEN costumes.  Sure praise her if she actually designed them and sat with her sewing machine.  No, she went online and ordered things (I doubt she even went to a store).   And 3 couple costumes were cheap frankly.  The only thought was how narcissistic she could be in their execution (as @flowersintheattic254pointed out even the Mario costume had  a reason, it was a reminder of Japan and the fake encagement by referring to the ad that paid for their trip there).

And seriously how are people not questioning that she spent the entirety of her month picking TEN costumes?  Who has time for this?  I know, i know, a person whose only role in life is to play fake plus one.

I am just so tired by D in particular being utterly dragged down by the useless dead weight by his side and his team’s sole ambition to promote her and make her sound like a decent person.  

If they wanted to praise her, maybe they should have forced her to participate in the zero waste initiative instead of sitting drinking by the pool or have her volunteer to help young girls who have been kicked out of their homes, or have been raped.  Or pick any cause and truly volunteer her time to promote it.  If she is not going to actually get a job and pursue a career, please force her to do something that is actually of value and contribute something good to the world. But to praise her for picking TEN costumes?  

Praise that comes from a man who this year alone won three awards, is starring in a show he created and wrote the music for, has his first big movie premiere this week, is exec producer and star of a huge show on N/etflix, just announced his starring role with 2 A++ lists actors next spring on Broadway, celebrated the 5th anniversary of the festival he created, volunteered his time for the zero waste initiative, performed at several charity events, and was just yesterday name limited series actor of the decade.  Where is the praise for him from his “bride”?  He at least deserves it.

How do they not see how ridiculous it is for someone with D’s accomplishments in 2019 alone praise a person for purchasing TEN costumes for Halloween?  And stans, how do you accept that this is right or normal.  You really know nothing about him and have such little respect for him as a person if you continue to accept the character his idiotic team has created on his behalf.  It is so far from the person he is and that he generally holds himself out to be when given the opportunity.  

This isn’t about being a “gay fetishist” or “hating woman” this is about wanting for D to be fairly and accurately represented and no longer forced to participate in this stupid, life sucking game to promote a person that contributes absolutely nothing to the world.  If you want to have a strong female role model, there are so many, i’ve talked about a few in the past few days (thus far Nancy, Lea, and Phoebe) and will continue to do so, but please stop worshiping a person whose sole reason you are speaking about her is her connection to D, even if you refuse to accept it is fake.  

klainecentric Finished reading the funniest ig story of the day, the qween being praised for sitting in front of either a sewing machine or computer...bravo your majesty qween....your my hero well done.👏👏. And all I can think of is how irrelevant the statement D made about being an emotional horder, being a very private person and finally D saying he's lazy when it comes to social media, I'm internally screaming in frustration because yeah we know D wouldn't have written a post praising that lazy good for nothing waste of space but he's coming across as a lier and it's extremely damaging to his character as a person. I absolutely hate lying and every time another "private" moment is posted to the world is another small piece that's chipped away from what D has originally stated about privacy. PBB, nobody cares about your cheap arse highly flammable costumes you buy online, did you forget about your piano baby adult strip club. I'm sure there are still plenty of people out there you can hire to rub and flaunt their flanges all over the beer taps, why don't you keep busy on that instead. If you want to make costumes, I'm sure you can sew some mighty fine titty tassels together. It'll be cheap nasty, sound familiar.

souly So, let me get this straight. We should all praise a person for going online, looking up different costumes in online stores, putting those in their shopping basket and hitting “buy”? Because I do that at least once a week with other stuff. Do I get praised for that now? Pretty please? I’m doing good work there and buy a lot of stuff, therefore I must be the best person ever!

notes-from-nowhere You’re my Queen. Please, love me.

souly

(I think I got it right. I’m getting the hang of what said person is doing. Wheee! ;))

notes-from-nowhere You nailed it 🤣

ajw720 Yesterday I got a delivery of car food. And instead of his usual seafood mix up greats, I got him shrimp flavor. I’m awesome!!!!!

souly Oh, hey! I think we should all take pictures of whatever we bought online during the week or month and make individual posts on all of our social media accounts about it. Because, you know…

cassie1022 I picked up stuff I ordered online at Target and PetSmart. Does that count? Should I receive accolades because my cat will have fresh litter to do her business on?

souly Only if you post the pictures to prove it! ;)

ajw720 As soon as I get home. Pictures forthcoming. Shrimp cat treats and I also got a burgundy blanket for my new comforter!!! Life goals!!!!!!!!!!!

souly Okay, so, let’s see… What did I buy online during the past month that can be shared as pictures? Some things are gifts, so I obviously can’t post anything about those yet. But I think these here are safe.

Let’s start with one of my fav new shirts. (Excuse the grainy quality. I had to quickly edit it for privacy reasons. :p And yes, that’s a butterfly mirror.)

The rest are behind the cut to save your dash from drowning in too many pictures. ;)

cheekyface72 You’re my queen from now on…

ajw720 I think emmy/sag/gg/CC winner DC should write a post @soulypraising your awesome, amazing, unparalleled online shopping skills!  You earned that praise.  That cat toy is particularly spectacular.

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

Just A Taste of M’s Amazing Online Shopping Skills that are worthy of such Praise

ajw720

Super Mario with inflatable Dragon $54.66 (x)

Princess Peach $78.99 (x)

chrisdarebashfulsmiles. i can’t

flowersintheattic254. When you add the fact that the wedding was sponsored so heavily, and her history of outfits I think it shows Mi@rren is something that’s always been done very much ‘on the cheap’.

From work vacays (honeymoon included), RC ‘glue gun’ looks, thrift shoes and subsidized weddings.

It’s BUDGET BEARDING!!!

leka-1998. It’s not worth more than this, that’s for sure.

notes-from-nowhere  We are so ungrateful. She worked hard to find the gloves.

I bet she had to click on another link to find them. She deserves another accolade.

ajw720 @flowersintheattic254 Budget Bearding!  I LOVE It! (and something tells me D’s SW costume in particular was far cheaper than either of these).

souly That Snow White dress can be found for about $25 in a ton of online shops. I stumbled upon it even before Halloween way too many times. 😂

@notes-from-nowhere The plush question mark block can be found in a couple online stores like this one. She simply glued it onto some gloves - or asked L to do it with that glue gun of hers.

flowersintheattic254 Well funnily enough I think we may have confirmation that 🚽🚽 glued on the puppies so I guess YES to the question mark block too!!!

cassie1022 They can’t even glue things properly. Why am I not surprised?

leka-1998

SW

So, so amazing. Bow to the kween and her not so helpful helper.

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

There are lots more...I figured enough of your brain cells died reading the ones I posted.  On Nov 30 she is STiLL bringing it up”

Anonymous asked:

Whenever I see miarren gifset they always use the same quote underneath (the rolling the windows down quote) and at first I rolled my eyes and thought uh not that quote again, and I can't believe it took me this long to realise it's because there is literally no other quote that can be construed as loving. You can hardly put down "she's a big girl" whenever you make a set of gifs with M beaming and D looking like someone murdered the dog he's allergic to.

ajw720: And I love the Emmy quote as it was an absolute reference to his character who was a psychopath. Pretty telling if you ask me. But that reference is over their heads.

And pretty much the only one. Guess saying he’s a ball and chain kind of guy isn’t romantic. They can’t even take pooping exes as he clearly steered the conversation away from her. Lovely lady of many moons? Nah she sounds like a stranger. Saying nothing changes after marriage? Sounds boring. It’s a struggle. But hey she’s an excellent online shopper that he done got hitched to!!!

[i-am-masterkittens]

You better prepare yourself cause these are Quite A Few Questions 👀👀 3, 4, 11, 12, 15, 21, 23, 31, 33, 39 and lastly 40. Wow. 11 questions lmao

Thank you so much 😭😭❤

3. rant. just do it (I am going to put my whole ass rant under the cut because BOY IS IT LENGTHY. Also tw child abuse, pedophilia, self-harm and I think that’s it.)

4. do you think its ok to separate the artist from the art? No? Like I guess if you want to, that’s fine, I’m not gonna hate you for it, but for me personally I’m gonna try to avoid it as much as possible. If a bad person creates a masterpiece, I’m still not gonna support them.

11. what unusual talent do you have? Uhh mild body contortion? Like I can’t touch my toes for the life of me but I can twist my body really weirdly and bend all my fingertips backwards by a lot. I love freaking people out by doing that.

12. what’s the most interesting schools gossip you’ve ever heard? I have audio-based problems meaning I have trouble understanding someone when they speak and also remembering what they said, so I can eavesdrop on the juiciest gossip and forget the next day. However, I do remember this one thing about some kid named Evan being a vampire, which I distinctly remember because Jake talked about it, but I don’t remember how it came up.

15. what’s a question do you constantly get asked? One would think it would be “omg are you left handed?” Or something similar, but I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me about it. One question I do get a lot is from my boyfriend, “why are you so cute?” It makes me shy and I have to hide my face.

21. what’s a conspiracy you believe in? That there are Warrior cats living somewhere in the world (from the warrior series). Which I guess isn’t a conspiracy, but I believe in it!

23. if you could break one of your bad habits which would you choose? The inability to take care of myself. I mean, if someone wasn’t there to remind me every day, I would never remember to take my medicine, or brush my teeth before bed, or even get dressed half the days. I wouldn’t call it lazy, it’s more of a “I’m too tired to take care of myself”. That’s mental illness for you babey!!

31. you can change one thing in your life right now. what are you changing? OH. I would totally delete every disease in the world. This whole quarantine thing is making me sick physically, emotionally, and mentally, because I am not allowed outside at all and the lack of fresh air, meeting people, and vitamin D is stressing me out and well I feel bad almost all the time now. Not to mention all the cool stuff I was gonna do for my 2020 graduation. 😔

33. what do you think about a lot I sometimes wonder if my best friend would let me call him Jakey or Jakie as a nickname but I’m too shy to ask because I am baby.

39. describe your asthetic Okay so I call it “Pretty-Cryptid, Baby-Softcore.” Because I am baby AND a cryptid. I’ll be eating baby carrots from the bag and staring out the window one minute then I’ll want to be snuggled under lots of blankets the next. I also really love pretty things and colors. Pastel purples and blues? Hell yeah! Pats on the head? I love you. A demon with ethereal vibes and pretty jewelry is standing next to me in bed and telling me everything’s going to be okay? OGHOHOHHHHGH ❤❤❤❤ Anyway I want a pretty monster dad, please?

40. answer with one of your ‘school memes’ (inside jokes you have with your class/grade) with no explanation Mr. Wise.

Here’s my rant:

The basis of it all is just that I would probably sleep forever if I could.

I guess that isn’t all quite a rant, so I’ll start of on a mild note. What the fuck is happening to my dreams? I’ve been having these weird ass dreams about people taking care of me and genuinely wanting to become a parental figure to me. They all wear masks, two of which look exactly like SCP-035 and SCP-049, but there’s this one dude, I don’t know him, but he wears this mask with holes in it. Apparently his name is Jason? This isn’t the first time I’ve had a dream about someone who I didn’t know existed, I’ve also had dreams about Monika from DDLC before I knew who she was, and even about how she died. It was creepy as fuck, and I sure hope my dreams don’t come true because I’ve had dreams of the future more than once.

Now that that’s out of the way, let’s get into the heavy stuff, starting with my parents.I know I’m not the only person to have shitty parents, but that doesn’t stop them from being shitty. And before I get into anything, please please, please don’t report them to anyone. It’s probably weird to hear considering all they’ve done, but the guilt will probably kill me literally, and I still kinda love them, I mean they’re my parents and they took care of me. I don’t want anything to happen to them, and I don’t want to have to hurt myself because I did something to them, even if it was indirectly.

It used to be physical abuse, but it’s evolved into verbal as I grew up. Whenever I used to get in trouble, I would get so fucking terrified of what was going to happen to me. My dad, who was mostly absent from my life, (hence my constant wishing for a fictional character to be my dad, and probably a HUGE factor for what’s happening to my dreams lately) was also the most heavy handed with the hitting. He would spank me so hard that I would be crying and my butt would be red for hours. And it was so SO obvious that he liked my sister more than me, because it was always me who ended up with the red butts, and she’d get away with a loud yelling at. Meanwhile my mom would just hit me wherever she could with whatever she could, including a wire coat hanger when she was doing laundry.

And I recognize that I was a problem child, both physically and mentally because of my internal deformities that cause a lot of health problems, but also my weird boyish mentality and energy (I was into roughhousing a lot). But even then, just yelling would be enough to make me stop. Hitting me the way they did only made me learn how to lie to them and hide when I did something wrong.

This sort of stuff went on until about middle school, where it turned into more verbal threats about kicking me out of the house, as well as calling me names and making comments that dropped my self esteem very low, including stupid cow, bitch, and even telling me to hide my body and never wear bikinis or short shorts or crop tops (which I was already sensitive enough about because of my scars and the bump in my abdomen because of my knotted intestines, which gives me digestive issues if I eat too much). Dad almost completely dropped off the disciplinary train, only yelling at me extremely loudly when he got angry, but other than that I did pretty much nothing with him.

Because of them I’ve become extremely paranoid when it comes to touches that aren’t meant to be 100% comforting, and I’ve never been able to fully trust anyone for fear of getting hurt, (I’m sorry Jake :( if it makes you feel better though I trust you the most out of anyone else) and I get nervous when speaking up because I always got shot down by my parents.

It’ll be okay though because I have my boyfriend who I’ll get to live with soon, even if it’s just for the summer.

This isn’t everything that they’ve done, but it’s the majority of it, and even though they do good stuff with me sometimes, like my dad cooks breakfast or takes us out to eat, or we all go on nice vacations together, and it makes me feel guilty that I’m making them look bad, and worry that I’m oversharing or being too sensitive, but then I remember what they do and have done, and remind myself that I’ll only visit during holidays.

When I was 13, I came into contact with a pedophile. My first one out of at least 2 that I remember. I’m going to spare the details, but he tried to roleplay sexual situations with him, and convince me to undress in front of him, and that’s when I cut contact with him, and faked my death. I’m so, SO fucking sick of pedos, and pedo apologists, saying there’s nothing wrong with the age difference, when pedophilia has done nothing good to or for children. It gave me severe PTSD, to the point that I can’t say any words relating to reproduction, and visual-based sexual content will cause me to have flashbacks and panic attacks and cause me to scratch myself. Thanks pedos! Fucking hate you all! Please die.

And before people say I am overreacting, I’ve had this huge trigger since I was 13 and that is not something a kid should go through. And the reason why not a lot of people know about what happened, it’s because of the fear that I harbored, that people would laugh at me, and might use my triggers against me, which made things even worse, and it wasn’t until my boyfriend triggered me (accidentally) that I finally told someone, and it made me feel better that I could rely on him.

Other than that, another rant is about my boyfriend. I mean, he’s a good boyfriend, and he’s nice, but sometimes he comes off as insensitive and it makes me upset. That’s most of the reasons why we fight. Another big thing is lack of affection/attention, which might seems strange since we’re always hanging out, it seems, and cuddling, but sometimes he falls asleep on me and I get bored and don’t know what to do, or sometimes he ignores me to play video games or talk to other people. I am very touch starved so I need constant attention and contact or else I get worried, and I don’t know if he knows this or not, but he definitely comes off as ignorant sometimes. 

He makes up for a lot of stuff he does, but it doesn’t make what he did go away, and I wish he’d realize that and change because he keeps making the same mistakes.

My last rant is going to be about myself, and that I feel like a shit person! I feel like I always make things worse! I feel bad for every decision I make! I feel like I’m too clingy to my boyfriend and that I ask too much of him sometimes, and it makes me feel like shit because what I want and how I feel afterwards are different things and wow! Time for scratches! Also I want to have the power to always know what to do and say to make everyone happier and feel better! But then I get scared I’m gonna make a mistake and instead of trying to help I ignore them and go wow! I am a very shit person for ignoring them! And now my heart hurts because I got another heart palpitation by panicking! Wow I have a shit body! My heart deformities might kill me in my sleep! Wow! I am so insecure about everything I do and every way I look. I just want to become small and disappear sometimes. I miss you Jake. It’s hard for me to tell you I love you because it’s such an intimate phrase and my boyfriend was the first to hear it from me. But I’m glad you’re the second, even though we were so close to it. Somewhere in an alternate universe we’re together, and that makes me happy. I hope I we can become platonically intimate again, I remember holding your hand at night and it made me feel a little bit better at that camp.

My body just always hurts. I have to take a lot of medicine, and between all my heart, lung, and intestinal issues, on top of all my mental issues, majority of which have gone undiagnosed because my mom is in denial and refuses to get me to any sort of therapy; all of that combined makes me tired constantly, and I just always have stress, and a little headache in the back of my head.

I’m still hurting a lot, but I hope to get better. I have lots of ideas for the future, and I want to complete them before I go. I hope I make it past 2020, with many of you in tow.

I’m so tired.

I’m sorry if I made you sad.