#than i already have. so like. idk help a brother out and help folk who need it.

[fixing-bad-comic-art]

just like a quick heads up and bit of housekeeping, for "I was raised Catholic and by fucking God does that mess you up" and "over the years people have made exceptionay kind offers" reasons, going forward I'm going to try to be more active on this blog and with every edit I'm going to be including"like my stuff? support me here" links. Those links will always lead back to various charities helping folk in places like Sudan, the Congo, and Palestine. I'd Uber appreciate it if y'all lent them your kindness instead of directing it at me and preferably played along with the bit however best suits you.

[findafight]

Currently consumed by the thought of a stobin Hollywood studio era lavender marriage au. They elope from Hawkins and Steve takes Robin's last name (a scandal when the paps find out!) And work shit jobs until they hit it big. (Robin is a trailblazer director who verbally eviscerates people who abused their actresses to get a ""more authentic performance"". Steve is a leading man who shifts into Dad Roles in his fifties. They adopt a gaggle of children so his career isn't as full as Rob's and he is so happy about it.)

They are a power couple for over half a century and eventually come out (Robin as a lesbian who's had a partner since the fifties and Steve as 'just very queer. I didn't have the words back then and now I don't feel like labeling it' and their marriage as one filled with love and respect and caring without romance or sex. Calling it "every bit as real as any other marriage, except we never had the complications of fucking. We loved together and fought together and cried together and lived together. The only thing more important to us than each other are our children and grandchildren, and isn't that what every other marriage is?") to the confusion of nearly everyone because they clearly adore each other and constantly hold hands or sit on laps and call each other soulmates and gaze adoringly across rooms and once said about meeting that they knew, after that first month of teasing and jeering and growing pains, that they'd found the person they were meant to be with. That they'd be together for as long as they were given because to know someone so thoroughly that they know you better than yourself and you know them the same that you barely need to speak but you do for the joy of the other's company is a rare gift to be given, especially so young.

Because they never lied! It's just, people assume romantic intent or attraction when Robin and Steve don't! They're the loves of each other's lives but they are not romantically in love and that's hard for people to understand. Especially a high profile couple who was the Romantic Ideal for three generations. And so when they say they were never involved like that, it's hard for some to believe because those two love each other so openly and intensely and for that love to be something other than romantic doesn't compute.

But on the other hand, they had already been queer icons. Steve 100% played in a heavily queercoded war film in the fifties and Robin had a Way of shooting women and they'd been vocal "allies" since the sixties. They'd nearly come out in the eighties but by then it wasn't just a decision they could make. It involved their partners and their children and grandchildren, so they waited to do so. But they were activists early for queer folk and did their best to fight the good fight (and also 1000% cussed Regan out. As he so deserved)

Idk I've rewritten this post like five times as I was helping my brother move and I'm just. Very emotional thinking of a grand, seven decade spanning, queerplatonic love story in the studio era of Hollywood.

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Dark! Aemond x reader (Yes she has no name, once more)

Based on the courtyard scene.

(I FIXED TYPOS)

Concept: Assasin/spy/grey reader x prince regent Aemond.

You have a simple life in kings landing. At day, you work in a tavern. At night, you rule the underground scene of kings landing. Illegal drops, hiding bodies/disposing of them, its all in your task description. You are simply refered to as The Queen of the City or the Queen of the underworld. No one has seen your face. That is the only reason you are alive right now. One day, they arrest your father. A peaceful septon. Or so it appeard. He was brought to the keep and thats where you will help him escape from. Or so you thought.

WARNINGS: spoilers and dark stuff i like my writings as i like the night. dark, and full of terrors.

gif's not mine, not now, not ever. (for i am older than vhagar idk how to internet)

Darwen opens the door once you have knocked. He hasn’t changed since the last time you saw him. When he took the fall for your crimes. When they dragged him through the streets of King’s Landing and took off his left hand. You stare at the stomp that was once his fighting hand. His writing hand. He dreamed of being an author. A dream that you crushed. Just as you crushed his heart that once beat for you. You move your three fingers in your right hand, excluding your little finger and thumb as a greeting.

Darwens’s mouth corners begin to hang, in a disapproving manner when you greet him with your former secret signal. You drop your hands and compose your face, but inside your eyes roll so hard they would be on the ground by now. You force yourself to smile and lightly touch your face in a charming flattering attempt to charm him. ‘’Ah, good. You are here.’’

You try to walk past him, into his home. He quickly paces forwarth and blocks the entrance, glaring at you when his left arm hangs uselessly by his side. It has been a while for sure. 

You hoped you would be better at lying now. At tricking now. But he reads you once as he read you dozens of times before. ‘’Do you need something, Y/N?’’

Why do people always assume you need something from them? Perhaps if you yearned for true social contact as most folk, you would visit them outside of work hours. Yet you do not yearn for social idle meaningless conversation. Darwen knows every trick in your book for he wrote it himself. He made you who you are. You are better off asking him yourself.  ‘’As a matter of fact, that I do. I need to speak to your sister.’’ You haven’t seen her in years either. Not since they took Darwens hand.

Darwen tenses up, the protective brother that he is. You scoff slightly at his attempt of making himself bigger than you, for you are much taller than he is. ‘’My sister? Why?’’

You sigh, growing impatient. ‘’Just let me in, Darwen. The street has whores but it also has ears.’’ You would know, better than anyone.

—-----------------------------------------------------

You are let in, and they allow you to take a seat on their sofa. Freyda, his sister, was busy cutting potatoes but drops her knife when she sees your horrendous desperate face. ‘’Out! Out with you! We do not wish to be associated with you!’’ Well, she is honest at least.

You plop down on the worn-out sofa, put your boots on the table and shoot her a glare. ‘’Too late.’’ You grumble.

She is not done yelling yet. ‘’You already took my brother’s hand! Isn’t this enough, villain?! When will you be satisfied?!’’ You, a villian? You scoff. Perhaps. Perhaps not. You did not take his hand. You just made sure it wasn’t you on that chopping block. You lied, tricked, manipulated, abused, fought, stole but it was the City watch swords. Not yours.

You get to your feet after sitting down for one brief moment. ‘’’I need to borrow your uniform.’’ She knows just what uniform you are referring to. The one she wears when she works in the pretty Red Keep of King’s landing. Attending dogs, kings, whatever she is paid for. You have your own woman at the castle who would normally…provide these kinds of things for you, but she hasn’t answered you in a week now. She is either found out or she has betrayed you.

Which means she is dead…Or soon will be.

Her eyes become as huge as two oranges. ‘’Borrow? We only have one uniform, Y/N.’’ That complicates things. Of course those green greeds would only allow the people of the castle to wear one uniform. ‘’It is a new security measure. Ever since they killed the little prince-’’ 

You vaguely recall a golden casket sized for a toddler being paraded around King’s Landing’s Street. You and Vazzo joked about digging it up later, to sell it somewhere. But the dirty conquers that are Targaryens are all tossed in the sept to perish. The little brat was not any different, so you fear.  ‘’I don’t care. I need your uniform.’’ You do. You need to sneak in that palace and if they see your face, chances are that they recognize you from earlier today. 

Or worse…That they recognize you from much, much, much earlier. ‘’You want to leave Vazzo in charge of your empire?’’ Freyda is asking the real questions and you groan by the thought of leaving your empire, your criminal web of trustworthy spiders and liars into the hands of a man. Your web was designed to help former enslaved young women track their masters. To track them, and to end them. It has become more than that, bigger than that and worse than that. To put Vazzo, a man on top of that ladder kills you. Especially since you built that ladder yourself.

‘’I want nothing. I have no choice. Vazzo is my second-in command.’’ You trust him. Kind of. He is ambitious. He is cruel and calculated. But someone has to be there to feed and to lead the spiders from the dark, should you not return. Vazzo will carry on the revolution you are planning for King’s Landing. 

Your answer insults Darwen. Once, he wanted nothing more but to be your king. To sit next to you and to hold your hand. They might hate you, you allow them. You hate yourself as well. But do they hate your father, the man that raised them as their own? You hope not. Or not nearly as much as they hate you. You tell them shortly what happened in the morning. ‘‘’The guards came today. Funny looking ones. Not the regular city watch. These were Kings guards. They took my father.’’ You would recognize the pretentious sanctimonious cloaks, in a pure white color. The color of good. You would never forget how those cloaks dragged your mother through the streets before they chopped her head off, feeding it to the dogs.

Darwen and Freyda share a look, their faces grim and full of sorrowness. They are not like you. They have a conscience. They have these little voices in their heads, no hearts telling them they can’t live with themselves like this. Voices that went dead silent inside of you a long time ago. You are hopeful for the guilt to eat them alive, to make them as desperate as you truly are. ‘’So that means he is in the castle’s dungeons.’’ You feared that that would be the case, though you obviously considered it.

Your eyes never leave the proper red uniform that Freyda puts on the table. Your new disguise. ‘’I made the same conclusion. Which is why I need your uniform. Unless you’d like to risk your pretty head?’ ’Because you don’t trust Fryda to pick any lock, not even if she had the keys.You’ll likely need to pick at least 2 locks. One for the cell, one maybe for the entrance to the dungeon and who knows, maybe one or two more. You would take Estra with you, if she wasn’t on a mission in the Riverlands by now. Why must you always do things yourself? 

There is one short answer to that: If one wants to make sure something is done properly…

One has to do it themselves. ‘’If he’s in the castle dungeons, he is a dead man.’’ You refuse to believe that. Estra was stuck there for two weeks before a handyman of yours got her out safely and well. King Aegon is a lazy drunk fool who would rather party than execute prisoners. 

You feel your lips fold into a smirk as you proudly recall how you saved people from the red keep before.‘’I had men and women stuck there for months. They aren’t eager to dispose of us.’’ 

Darwen scoffs at your smugness. ‘’’That was before King Aegon got injured.’’ You feel as if someone dropped a bucket with ice cold water over your shoulders. The king was injured? 

You force your face to remain blank, an empty canvas awaiting its artist. You cross your legs and absently pull your left thumb nail. ‘’You didn’t know?’’ Of course you did not. 

Someone is playing a dangerous game with you, at that Palace. What in the seven hells happened with your informant at the palace? You think back to the new uniform rule. New security protocol, indeed. ‘’King Aegon went with his dragon, to kill Rhaenys and her dragon, Meleys.’’ You remember how proudly they paraded around the skull of the dragon. Come to think of it: You didn’t see any smug Targaryens out there that day. They were cooped up in their red stone coop, probably laying eggs out of fear and fucking each other-Normal Targaryen things.

Freyda nods, confirming the news that they played dragon-tag and one had lost.‘’King Aegon got burns. It is bad.’’ You hide an amused smirk. You hope it is. ‘’So, his brother took over.’’ There goes your smirk.

His brother took over. You try to remember everything your castle-spy told you about the princes but honestly you never could be bothered to read about the princes or any royalty at all. You just read the first lines, confirming you that your spy was alive and well. Nothing interesting was mentioned until a few months ago, when Viserys died. Then a few juicy good updates. ‘’The war has started.’’ ‘’The prince was slew.’’ ‘’The two whores are off to Rook rest….’’ and since then, nothing. Silence. Only silence.

Confirming your fear that your spy is no longer alive. 

‘’Who is his brother?’’ You need a brief recap on whose house you are going to break into.

Freyda hesitates to speak. ‘’Prince regent Aemond Targaryen. He rides Vhagar, the biggest dragon.’’ The biggest dragon. You know men who wielded swords twice as big as you. Men who thought biggest meant best. And you watched as Estra cut their throats with a thin, small blade. Biggest doesn’t mean strongest. Any dragon can be killed. ‘’He is terrifying, Y/N. Aegon was a known rapist, drunk and a fool…’’ You heard those tales, yes. ‘’But I prefer Aegons’s drunkenness, his lust and his stupidity over Aemond’s bloodlust and his paranoia and his sadism.’’ When a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin. You have so far only seen the madness. Never the greatness.

You have lost too much time as it is. You take the dress with you and intend to leave. Only Darwen stops you, his good hand digging into your skin. ‘’What will get in return for helping you?’’

You bat your lashes. ‘’My gratitude.’’

He groans as a whiny brat. ‘’Y/N.’’

‘’You are the Queen of King’s Landing.’ You are, in a certain way. Not the queen-queen but still an important female leader. You might be the only queen that is truly out there. The Queen of Aegon is powerless, so is his sister who opposes him. You hold power.

‘’Fine, you can pick out something nice. We’ll discuss the details later.’’ Or, never. 

Darwen stops you, his head inches from your own. He takes your hands into his own, staring you down. ‘’Please, do not go. Your father is likely already dead. Aemond is a pig. He kills without reason. I don’t want to bury you, the way I buried everyone else.’’ You are touched, somewhere, deep down in your soul. You feel a flame awaken. You force yourself to ignore it. To avoid it. 

‘’Vazzo likes to say that a boring death equals a boring life. I will bring my father home, or I will leave behind a corpse. If I do go, bury me face down. I was never afraid of the stranger. I am not going to start now.’’

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

This is my first attempt at a grey character so ....ANY SUPPORT IS WELCOME. ok yeah that was it.

[vivi-wtz]

The Kas Theory (Stranger things)

This post will contain sooo many spoilers for season 3 and 4 of stranger things, reading on ur on risk

I have some many thoughts on this one, I hope my thinking makes sense in the end.

Okay, I am pretty sure that everyone who watch "Stranger Things" and fell in love with Eddie Munson heard about this theory already. But in case u haven't heard it yet, I'll explain it to u real quick.

In the game dnd, there is this one character call Kas. They are some sort of the right hand of Vecna. But then Kas turns against Vecna and defends him (or helps to defend Vecna? Idk correct me if I'm wrong).

And many people who love Eddie Munson (me included) believe that Eddie becomes some Kas anecdote and will save the day in the following season of "Stranger things". But hear me out:

I saw this Tiktok like a few days ago and it got me thinking. What if Billy is the Kas anecdote? I mean think about it. To become someone's right hand kinda thing, that someone needs to trust u, which needs some time yk? I mean I wouldn't let anyone be my right hand if I do not genuinely trust them. And idk how many months will be between season 4 and season 5 but since the doors to the upside down are already open, I dont believe that it will be as much as between season 3 and 4 yk. So Eddie would have less time to "bound" with Vecna than Billy would have had. And I bet Vecna also knows that Eddie fought his bats (I mean the wounds seem kinda obvious to me). And we know Vecna isn't stupid so he probably connects the dots and knows Eddie isn't on his side.

BUT BILLY ON THE OTHER HAND?! Not only was he already some kind of doll for Vecna, so Vecna kinda still has the connection to Billy (just like Will yk what I'm on about?), but Billy also never seemed to connect with the "Anti-Vecna" group, which is probably also shown in the memory of Billy. So Vecna knows that for sure. And adding to this Billy would also have had enough time to "gain" some trust from Vecna (more like prove himself to Vecna). I mean how many months were between the timeline of season 3 and the timeline of season 4? 8 months? That sounds pretty accurate to me.

I mean hear me out. I love Eddie.. I mean I really fucking love him more than myself. And I really wish for him to somehow come back in season 5 but folks u need to agree with me. This Billy-being-Kas-theory of me makes fucking sense..

And yes I know Vecna could just whoop Eddie's ass and make him do whatever he wants him to do. But Vecna is not stupid, like I said before! And he already had that mind controlling connection with Billy which will probably makes it easier for Vecna to get into Billy's mind? And even when Billy and Eddie had both a rough upbringing, I think Billy had it a bit rougher. I mean at least Eddie had a father like figure, friends who like him for him and his trauma (the "loss" of his parents, probably bullying yk) didn't got any deeper (I mean, yes he got still bullied but he had friends, he wasn't alone, yk?). But Billy on the other side, his mother left him alone with his abusive dad, who also were his only father figure. He only had friends because of his looks and the popularity he got because of it. And because his dad is shit, his trauma got deeper with everytime, Billy's dad laid hand on him, yk? So the bad things in Billy's life, his loneliness and the fact that he went to all that basically alone probably clouded his mind and also makes it even easier for Vecna to get in his fucking mind.

And also yes, in the end of season 3 Billy sacrificed himself for El. But only because she found a good memory. And do u all remember how long it fucking took her to find it (which would basically prove my theory that I pointed out before)? In addition to Vecna knows how strong El is, so there is a high chance that El could just faked the memory to make Billy "submissive" to her plans. U get this?

But I mean folks, who am i kidding? We all know the duffer brothers are freaking stupid (I mean they killed the best character yk) and tbh I don't believe they thought about this, so I guess eddie it is (I mean I'm happy, but I would make so much more sense with billy... waisted potential in a good plot if u ask me)

Anyway, I really do hope, that y'all get what I meant.. I mean I know this is a lot of information and I really tried to give my rambling thoughts some structur. But on case it didn't work and u have some questions, just ask me.

Anyway, bye bye, kissies y'all

[sadcatjae]

Pretty

Masterlist

here's a thing i wrote a while ago that i didn't post cus idk if anyone would wanna read it lol but it seems like a waste not to post it so here it is! idk if ill continue, but i really do love Pretty as a character. he's just a violent cinnamon roll who just wants a hug ;u;

.

CW: Explicit language, shooting/gun violence, graphic death, stabbing, blood and gore, mentions of physical abuse, disfigurement, misogyny, sexual harassment, ableism, ableist language

.

It was supposed to be easy. 

Go in, clock the guard, scare the teller, grab the cash, and leave town. 

Bambambam. Easy as pie, Farry likes to say, easy as fuckin’ pie. 

“This ain’t pie, boss,” Hyena yips, tying up the last of the hostages. He casts his asymmetrical stare over the vault full of tellers and customers, just regular folk who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. He licks his lips and leers at a young woman who flinches and tilts her face away. “But I wouldn’t mind a nibble anyhow…”

“Keep your hands off the girl, Hyena,” Farry drawls, nudging the security guard’s body with the tip of his pristine dress shoe. “I don’t know how the pigs got here so quick, but we’re trapped in tighter than a fuckin’ sardine can. Pretty, how’s it lookin’ out there?” 

Pretty peers out of the window, keeping out of snipers’ line of sight. He grimaces as he counts ten cars and more approaching in the distance. An entire battalion of blues. 

He lets the curtain shift back in front of the window and shakes his head at Farry. Not good. 

His boss swears quietly and runs a hand through his slicked back hair. Farry’s a handsome guy, Pretty reckons, resuming his patrol of the bank. He knows all the right moves and says all the right things. Whenever Pretty tries to emulate his boss, he just makes everyone baulk and scatter, like he’d just pulled a gun on them. 

That’s his role in this three-piece outfit. Farry’s the leader ‘cus he’s got brains and face. Hyena’s the guy who knows everything there is about stealing shit, and he’s just crazy enough to garner them a bloody reputation. And Pretty…Pretty isn’t any of those things. But he’s damn well good at looking scary. He’s not particularly large or muscular or strong (in fact, he’s the opposite), but he’s got a real ugly mug that makes people turn away in horror. 

Of course, he’s got his mother to thank for that. She liked to do all kinda things to him when he was a child, leaving behind marks that he can never be rid of. From his childhood photos, he thinks he could have become a handsome guy like Farry if his mother just left him be. But that’s not how things went down. So he makes do with what he’s got, and in the end he got two brothers out of it. 

Things aren’t too bad, he thinks as he glances out the west-side windows. More pigs here. Just like Farry says. They’re trapped tighter than canned sardines. As long as I have Farry and Hyena, things won’t ever be bad. 

“Alright, I’m going to need some time to think,” Farry mutters, pacing restlessly across the linoleum floor. His shoes squeak on every turn. “I need to think. They’re going to expect demands from us. We’ve already killed the guard, so they know we’re serious. They know we ain’t playin’ around. Hyena, come out here and help me, damnit. Let Pretty babysit the hostages.”

“Gotchya, boss!” Hyena smacks Pretty in the arm as he skitters past, laughing in that mocking tone of his. “They’re all yours, Pretty! Don’t let ‘em outta your sight.”

Pretty nods in assent and rubs his aching arm. He steps into the giant vault and glances around. There’s about eleven hostages in total, most of them just people he’d see out and about in town on a Monday morning. 

The only one that doesn’t seem remotely afraid, is a man with cropped hair who’s done nothing but scowl at him from the moment he drew his gun. The guy is interesting to look at. He’s tough and beefy and seems to have some kind of military background. Pretty feels a tad nervous when their gaze meets. The guy has pale green eyes, washed out under the fluorescent lights. His mother had pale green eyes too.

“Pretty, is it?” the military guy sneers. “Not exactly what I’d call you, but I suppose that’s the point.”

Pretty sits in a chair they’d taken from the waiting area. It’s wooden and uncomfortable. He rests his revolver on his knee, keeping the barrel pointed at a wall. 

“Not much of a talker are you?” Military guy continues, wriggling slightly within his bonds. He’s wriggling a lot, actually, but Pretty doesn’t quite know if that’s something he shouldn’t allow. “What do you think’s going to happen to you, Pretty? You think they’re just going to let you walk out of here unharmed?” He scoffs and shakes his head. “They’re going to kill you and your friends over there. Shoot you down in a hail of bullets like they did the Barrow Gang. Only difference is that no-one’s ever gonna remember you.”

Pretty wipes his hand against his pants. His palms are starting to get sweaty. “No,” he says quietly, voice cracking from disuse. Military guy seems surprised that he can actually talk. “Won’t let anything happen to them.” He glances at Farry and Hyena out in the foyer, arguing with each other in hushed voices. 

“Well, you better prepare to say your farewells, Pretty, because they're dead as you are.” Military guy wriggles and jitters with increasing fervour. “Not unless you put a stop to this yourself.” 

“Not putting a stop to anything,” Pretty frowns, tightening his hold on his gun. “Farry’s smart. So is Hyena. They’ll both get us out of this like they always do.”

“Not this time,” Military guy says, suddenly becoming motionless. There’s a sense of unease growing in the gangster that he’s unable to comprehend. “Last chance, Pretty. Put a stop to this before anyone else gets hurt.”

Pretty pulses his jaw. He narrows his eyes and bares a glint of teeth. That always does well to scare people – but Military guy hardly flinches. “I said, I’m not putting a stop to anything–”

Military guy bursts from his bonds and leaps at Pretty, a pocket knife flashing through the air. The gangster hardly has time to react before he feels the blade plunging into the centre of his chest. He numbly drops the gun, grabs the guy on top of him (when did he fall onto his back?), tries to push him off. But the blade is yanked out of him, blood and viscera spraying in an arc, and plunging back down–

CRACK!

Military guy’s head snaps back. A small red hole between his eyes. Blood trickles down his face as he stares at Pretty, blankly, in shock. The light dims in his pale green eyes. 

There’s a silence that extends an aeon. 

And then he keels over. Pretty fuckin’ dead.

“Sorry,” Pretty whispers, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. 

Screams and sobs erupt, voices climbing within the echo chamber of the vault. Pretty winces at the head-splitting volume. Pain bores deep into his wounded chest, making it ache something fierce.

“You moron! What the fuck are you doing?” Farry clips into the vault and hauls the dead body off his downed grunt. His handsome face swims into view, full of irritated lines. “I told you to watch the hostages, not let them go on a fuckin’ rampage! Get up and do your fuckin’ job!”

Pretty nods and drags himself into the chair, one hand pressed tight over his bleeding chest. 

“And if you don’t stop screaming, I’ll do the same to you as I did him,” Farry snarls at the hostages, jabbing his gun at the cooling corpse. 

Almost instantly, the hostages clamp their mouths shut. Only quiet sobs and wet sniffs serve as the morbid ambience. 

Farry sighs and grabs a first aid box from behind one of the tills. He tosses it at Pretty, who fumbles when he tries to catch it. “One more fuck up and you’re out. I have no patience for useless bastards like you. So don’t test me.” He gives the disfigured man a look of pure derision, before stalking back into the foyer. 

Pretty swallows and glances down at the white box, allowing his wound to bleed freely and drench his dress shirt red. He stoops down, stifling a groan as he stretches his wound, and grabs his gun off the floor to holster. He tries not to look at the body (pale green eyes, like ma’s). 

“That isn’t–” A soft voice starts, before cutting itself off. It’s the young woman from before, who Hyena wanted to ‘nibble on’. She’s watching the wounded man rummage through the white box with round eyes. 

Pretty unbuttons his bloodied dress shirt and gingerly presses a wad of cloth to the leaking hole. Harsh pants edge through his clenched teeth in growls and groans. The pain is crushing. A pair of giant hands are squeezing his chest like it’s nothing more than a flimsy aluminium can. 

When he presses against the wound to stem the blood, the pain turns rabid. It snarls and froths and bites into his flesh, gnaws at his very bones. His vision fills with static. His hands are starting to shake. He’s losing grip of his cognition. It hurts real bad. It hurts so bad I wanna cry. 

“Bandages,” the young woman says, sharply. “Use that roll of bandages there. Wrap it around your chest – wrap it tight. Tight enough to hurt. Otherwise you’ll keep bleeding out.”

Pretty blinks at the woman, swaying as he tries to catch his breath. He sees the stern look on her pale face. Her tone is crisply authoritative. It makes him want to listen to her words. 

He grabs the roll, clumsily winding the bandage around his chest. He yanks hard on the roll with every turn (tight enough to hurt) and he heaves as the crushing pain threatens to engulf him. He’s shaking too hard to do a proper knot, so he just tucks in the loose end. At the end of it, he slumps in the chair, resting for a moment, before trying to button up his shirt. 

It’s like he’s fifteen years old again with his damned butterfingers (“You couldn’t use a button until you were in high school?!”).

“Mister…Robber, sir.” The woman’s voice probes his waning consciousness. “Sir, you have to stay awake. You have lost a lot of blood.”

Pretty huffs like he’s run a mile in ten seconds. He wipes the sweat from his eyes and tries to take stock of the hostages. Most are keeping to themselves, trying to keep their heads down. Some are warily watching him and the other two outside. The young woman is the only one who meets his eyes. 

“Pretty,” he grunts, tugging the wings of his shirt together. He drops the white box at his feet and pulls his gun from the holster. He rests it upon his knee, barrel pointed to the wall. “My name’s Pretty.”

The young woman gives a nervous smile. She’s quite fair and homely, though her features are puffy from crying so much. Pretty reckons she shines, more than Farry or Hyena ever could. “Pretty. My name is Bethan. Or Beth as my friends like to call me.”

“Beth,” Pretty repeats, dumbly. He presses the palm of his free hand to his chest, closing his eyes briefly as the crushing pain flares. He releases a tremulous breath and opens his eyes. “How did you know about all that stuff?”

“I’m a doctor,” Beth smiles. “At least I’m studying to become one.”

“A woman doctor?” Pretty raises his brows. 

“We do exist, you know.”

The gangster grunts in surprise. 

Beth’s smile fades. Turns trepidatious. “Pretty, you need a hospital,” she says, her voice low and urgent. “You need stitches. Maybe even surgery if there’s extensive internal damage. If that wound gets infected, you could die. Do you understand me?”

Pretty shrugs. “Can’t do nothing right now about it.”

“Well…” Beth pauses, drawing in a shaky breath. She raises her chin and gives the gangster a wide smile. “You have me, don’t you? If you let me out of these ropes, I can treat you.”

“What are you doing?” A bespectacled man, who is dressed in tweed suit, hisses at Bethan. “Are you trying to get us all killed? Did you not see how they shot a man in front of us?!”

“I did,” Beth snaps back, “But a patient is a patient, and I am beholden to my oath.”

“The man’s an idiot,” another hostage snorts. This time it’s an old woman, heavily made up and soaked in perfume. She looks like she’s about to go to a gala. “If we get him involved, he’s sure to get us all killed.”

“I’m not so much of an idiot,” Pretty growls, turning the barrel of his gun to the hostages, “that I don’t understand english. No-one’s going anywhere. No-one’s doing anything. And I’m not untying you. So you keep quiet as Farry says, or I’ll blow a hole in your heads. Got it?”

Silence falls once more. Even Bethan seems to have been affected by his threat, for she lowers her head and says not another word. 

There’s a flicker of regret. Pretty knows he’s gotta stand by what he says. People can see through empty threats, Farry once told him. If your threats aren’t empty, then no-one will ever doubt you. They won’t ever look you in the eye ever again.

What if I do want them to look me in the eye? Pretty’s spent his entire life being looked at, but never seen. It’s always his scars that they see. It’s either that or they avoid looking at him altogether. 

Pretty can count four people who have ever looked him in the eye. His older sister, Giana. Farry. Hyena. And now Beth. 

Pretty thinks about Gigi. He wonders if she’ll see him on the news today. He wonders if her husband, Michael, is treating her alright. 

He drowses for the next several minutes. The air conditioning in the vault sends a chill over his sweat soaked skin. He can’t stop trembling, like he’s been caught in the middle of a blizzard. 

“Pretty!” Farry rouses him with a smack upside the head. “Wake up, you fuckin’ lug. They got the news stations out there and they’ve been calling the bank non-stop.” He seems almost excited, like this is exactly what he’d been after. 

Pretty clutches his burning chest and straightens up as best he can. Unbearable branches of pain shoot out from the centre of his chest, like lightning bolts carving through his flesh. He grits his teeth, trying to keep his voice in. 

Farry continues blathering on, paying no mind to his brethren’s suffering. “I’m about to make some demands so we’re going to have to free someone. Pick whoever and bring them into the foyer. Hurry your ass up about it, alright?” He slaps a hand against Pretty's wounded chest and chuckles loudly when strangled cries follow him out of the vault.

Pretty rocks back and forth breathlessly, hands pressed protectively over his agitated wound. He feels blood seep through the bandages and stain his fingers.

There’s a terrible moment when he wonders if he could actually die from this.

.

[niuttuc]

About my Planeswalker-sona !

I have two actually, who are like twins and were both born on Eldraine (the set where I first began to play!). They were raised as knights at first but then they ignited their spark (idk how yet) and had a lot of experiences that made them change a lot.

One is a mardu-artifact wielding gruff sellsword man. He is trying to form an inter-planar mercenary force that could be hired to diverse ends, even tho it would most likely be violence. He isn't the most morally straight person, and isn't afraid to perform such violence in exchange for whatever currency or favor he can muster, but he can't help be a little white aligned and won't stoop to really evil deeds if he can help it or if he notices it. He won't call it "honor" but more like, preserving his reputation in avoiding to harm defenseless people and the like. He is short tempered, a bit ill mannered, and doesn't care about politeness most of the time but *will* respect a good warrior or other people in his line of work. He would be hard pressed to *truly hate* someone but can hold grudges for a good while. His powers are to store copies of artifacts (mostly equipments) he has seen in a remote access bag-of-holding-like demi-plane and bring them out whenever he wants like a powered down Gate of Babylon thing from Fate. His prefered style of battle is wielding a colossus hammer and a brass knuckle and going wild on his ennemies!

The other is his evil-twin, idk if they were born from the same mother or not but they look a lot like each other. Basically personnality wise he's a little evil gremlin that enjoys being chaotic and fucking with people. He's a bit like Ashiok in that regard, but while seeming a bit less "aloof" I'd say? He's still mostly doing stuff for his own enjoyment tho. He is simic aligned, and his thing is to be able to dominate weak animals and constructs, a bit like Lukka, but without a "two ways" link of the sort, because he can only impose his will upon really weak beings. But then, his greatest joy is to pump them up to great heights with green spells to surprise people and bring chaos to wherever he is, which annoys his brother a lot. People mistake them a lot and since this one is very elusive they tend to find the mardu one and bring their grievances to him even tho he hasn't done anything. For some reason, he seems to be able to dominate weak infected monsters without spreading the oil or getting infected himself (to his knowledge at least), which is his lattest "fun discovery": indeed, killing with poison is way easier than with damage... He's taking advantage of the current situation to keep an infected myr with him at the moment, but how long will that last?...

That's it ! They don't have names yet because I'm very bad at naming and I don't want to feel like, cringe lol. But I love that in the lore we're supposed to *be* planeswalkers when we duel ! So they are both the pilots of my two favorite decks : a Syr Gwyn equip/knights commander deck, and a pauper simic infect deck.

I want to keep evolving them as I keep evolving as a player too. Maybe I will give them names, new adventures, write more... or at some point retire them, if I change a lot? In any case, I like them a lot!

Interesting, not quite as mirrored as the beginning got me to assume, but still two folks that are quite different. You say they were "raised as knights", what's that to mean? Where they already adult knights on Eldraine before sparking or just educated in view of them becoming knights? Was this their parents' expectations or their own? What castle's knighthood did they have/were they aiming after?

[raraeavesmoriendi]

(discussion of family death below)

so today might be the day my mom’s dad passes. he’s been deteriorating pretty fast since he and my grandma moved in with my parents in december, and my mom came up this morning to tell me she and gran are seeing All the Signs (my aunt passed at my grandmother’s five house years ago, so they’re both familiar with how home deaths look).

I don’t have a good relationship with my mom’s dad - none of the women(/whatever I am) in the family do. he’s just always been a bad grandfather and a worse dad, and I’ve been furious with him since he demanded my mom to drive him to work at the ass-crack of dawn literally the morning after her sister passed from a long and painful illness, when he’s self-employed and hadn’t provided solid income for years. he’s just always been a selfish dude who was in it to make a quick buck at the expense of everyone else in his family, and he wasn’t even good at it bc he and my grandma have extremely limited savings that she basically has had to watch like a hawk to make sure he doesn’t blow it on something stupid. she already found out a few weeks ago that he asked the guy watching their house to repair the bed of a truck that doesn’t even run, if you need an example.

so rn I’m upstairs in my childhood bedroom bc my mom told me it was probably going to be either today or tomorrow, and I know I need to suck it up and get in the shower so I can be downstairs/present/keeping them company, but I just feel kind of… stuck? like. this man I’ve been angry at forever is passing or on his way, my mom and grandma are kind of trapped bc they don’t want to be away from here/him when he does even though I’ve gotten the vibe from both of them that they’ll kind of be relieved when he’s reunited with the rest of his batshit family, and I just needed a space to quick let this out bc I genuinely don’t know what I’m doing the rest of the day besides poking around on my laptop downstairs and twiddling my thumbs waiting for an old dude to kick it.

idk, I’m sure this makes me sound like a raging turbo-bitch 5000 and I’ve accepted that, but I can’t help but feel a little bitter at this guy who’s barely been a background figure in my life for decades - who literally lost interest in me as soon as I stopped being a cute chubby infant, but still wants to feel like he’s passing on some bullshit wisdom or whatever to my younger brother - and mad that he isn’t leaving my gran, his only wife of six decades at least, with anything but debt and an old house that she never liked that he let slide into disrepair bc he kept spending their money on useless shit.

I’m glad my family can take care of him at this stage, bc that’s what family is for and we would never dream of leaving my mom’s folks vulnerable or hurting, but I can’t help but still be angry on behalf of the three women I love more than anything whose needs he never once considered before his own, the two left alive now having to bear the brunt of his decades of shit-for-brains decisions.

anyway. family is complicated, if you have a grandpa who is/was actually worth a damn, pour one out for me tonight 🖤 that’s a lucky, lucky thing, and I’m missing my dad’s dad a whole fuck of a lot right now.

[breaktheicemp3]

idk it’s sad that patriarchy r whatever affected my mom. but I’m so desensitized and that’s shameful but it’s like. it’s not that she deserves it but on another level she’s totally fine with on some levels perpetuating the same stuff and she really doesn’t care about like anything bad that could ever affect anyone except for her or my brother. or like my sister and maybe me but then it’s more like she does that strange martyr thing where she’s like ~ this is a sign of all of the suffering in my lifeeee I am being punished by the universe/god~ and it’s so weird. It’s not like I don’t know what it’s like to be depressed and not caring but also like. on some level I feel like I can’t think of a single time that she hasn’t been. Depressed idk maybe she’s always been that way since puberty or maybe is suffering from the longest post partum depression. or maybe that’s just my way of formulating a digestible explanation for myself so i don’t have to feel guilty or think too deep about it and move on. Also maybe all I know how to do is argue but like. idk I fear being squashed by people and life so bad. I’m so self putting and maybe I have a forever but I’m complex do to not achieving what I want out of life yet or at all or whatever and feeling unliked. also omg not the iPhone autocorrecting or unloved lmao 🔫 but know it’s not that but it’s like ok so you love me but do you even care about me. like she says I love my children like a part of my body which you would think would be sweet but really it doesn’t feel like it it’s like is this. Does this already have to be connected to you like is this about your ego why don’t you love me for me I understand I make it difficult but why do you only see me as an extension to control which you’ve lost some ability to do so now im limp weight and a burden. This is so cheeseball but like. idk the more I think about I don’t know. it feels. Like she thought my only good quality was being smart but if anything the past 4 years have shown i am very much not like and a substance of self-sabatoge and just being unruly and mean or cold or distant or disrespectful or lazy or whatever. idk where I’m going with this but anyways. so I don’t even have being sensible … I hate people but I’m the biggest hypocrite for saying I’m gonna major I fucking business despite saying I don’t wanna for a year know but does it matter like with all the self sabotage I’ve done who knows if/where I’ll get accepted anyway but if anything if i don’t then it’s even all the more pathetic that I squandered every fucking opportunity and money that my parents leisurely threw in to my education like that’s just nothing short of pathetic that with every advantage I made bibi g out of myself. i don’t wanna work with read for my dad tho because I don’t think it’s good to put it simply and not just for me actually but also the control and humiliation. i am at a point of both self-pity and feeling low despite the fact that everyone I’ve done is willingly so it’s actually my fault I’m feeling unhappy with my own choices. so. idk. idk why I always feel low but as defined above clearly I’m instrumental in creating my own problems. i fantasize about having a come Lyerly different life which is stupid because I don’t even know what that looks like other than just having lots more money and not caring and just being like. my own little idol. but it’s stupid cause even if I wanted that i would have to work towards that and I’ve never had a single original thought that helped me or even like lifting a finger which is im sure a type of 21st century problem to say the least for the specific brand of person I am which is so underwhelming. I wish i could just do something and ig feel a sense of achievement but I don’t even wanna work towards stuff I think I like. So like even with all this wallowing idk it’s like i jsut do nothing just let teenage hormones get the best of me and I would say folks my worst impulses but even then I barely do anything I just argue I don’t really have much of a life.

[blushblushbear]

sweetie I run a blush blush blog, I don’t think anything is weird! You’re all good!

OKAY SO NIMH

firstly can we talk about like-- how Nimh canonically has a weak heart??? Cause I feel like that’s not talked about or mentioned much--- he’s only got a couple of lines-- but those lines are like--------------- SERIOUS

Nimh is actually my brother Fox’s favs and he like--- messaged me like OMG HE’S DYING AND WE’RE KILLING HIM?????????????????????

“HE’S TAKING ABOUT BORROWED TIME LIKE--- THIS MAN IS DYING AND WE’RE KILLING HIM BY MAKING HIM GO ON A COASTER 11GABILLION TIMES???????????????????????????????????????? WHAT”

And like

Yeah

Like

Nimh is actually p sad cause he’s probs not gonna live to be super super old???????? Maybe???? Idk

He def has dialouge that makes it like------ like he does mention a few times that he gets light headed and the way we make him feel like-- makes him need to sit down and take a breather???

But yeah, Nimh has a very weak heart and I would like to formally request that we don’t make him go on roller coasters anymore

But yeah like--- headcanons

Nimh’s probably got the most healthy and loving childhood out of all of the boys

His parents are legit the sweetest people

They’re also very chill

His family house is like--- all neat and tidy and warm and cozy, it’s very cottagecore up in there

It’s also a little old folks home-y but not in like a really gaudy way

There are def a lot of decor just chilling around tho

And pictures

SO MANY PICTURES

His parents are like the picture of a quant sweet quiet little suburian couple

But they’re also really like--- more down to earth and realistic than you’d expect???

Like--- they found out when Nimh was very young that he had a weak heart, and instead of like--- keeping that from him or never explaining why he can’t do certain things, they just like----- let him know

They were adamant that it’s Nimh’s body and Nimh’s life and he has a right to know what’s up 

They also never really like--- kept him from living his life as best he could????

Like there was never any “No, you can’t, you’re not allowed cause of your heart!”

It was always more “Well, sweetie, if it’s what you want, we can find a way to do it safely”

They let him have a lot of autonomy but also made sure he was aware of how to be safe and careful 

Tbh when Nimh was told at a young age about his weak heart he was actually pretty scared???

But his parents really helped him with it

They let him know that like--- yes, because of his condition he would have to be more careful than others, but it’s not a death sentence and none of this meant he’s not allowed to live his life

They legit had a moto “there’s a safe way to do anything!” 

They also raised Nimh with the moto “different strokes for different folks”

Cause legit they are also the most accepting people ever

So long as no one is getting hurt or being put in danger they are down for whatever

They have this picture of them on a road trip before they had Nimh, and they’re legit in a biker bar taking a big smiley group photo with their new friends 

A dude in a sweater vest and a lady in a cat sweater cheesing it up with a man who has pain tattoo’d on his knuckles and another one whose got a massive scar across his face

It was a fun trip

Nimh’s dad is a therapist and emotional counselor and Nimh’s mom is a grade school teacher 

So Nimh had just a really supportive loving home growing up

He def still talks to his parents on the daily

First best relationship with his folks, second best is Kelby

Def took you to meet his parents the moment things started getting serious

They a) had already heard a LOT about you, b) ADORE YOU

His family has regular family dinners, usually on sunday, and you are always welcomed

He also was really into books

Like legit-- him cashew and poe need to start a book club 

His canon job is a personal assistant and it’s to the head of a major publishing company

The company mostly does children’s books, though they also branch off into fantasy and young adult coming of age novels

Books always suited Nimh tbh

Not at a bookworm level like Cashew but p close

Even though he was given A LOT of freedom, he tended to prefer the calm and quiet

Less even for his heart and more just cause that’s how he is

He is a comfy boi

Soft boi

Cottagecore boi

He lives in a really cozy little apartment but he frequently visits and stays at his family home as well

NSFW but he’s sexually curious but a little timid in that area, solely due to how soft he is and how prone his heart is to going nuts in bad way when he gets too excited. Slow and steady wins the race for this rabbit folks

Fidgets like crazy when nervous 

Anytime he’s had to be in a full suit for something special he’s been nervous and also his tie is crumpled within the first hour cause he can’t stop fussing with it

He actually kind of loves sad/bittersweet movies

Big Fish is one of his favs. It’s just the right mix of whimsical and strange and heartwarming and sad for him

If anything sad/bad happens to an animal in any movie he cries for at least an hour

Marley and me mcfreaking WRECKED him

Lowkey a vegetarian

Like he’s not SET on being a vegetarian and it’s not for ideological or ethical reasons

He just really loves veggies

Healthy snacker

Can play the piano and a little bit of flute

Not stellar at either but he tries

Is def best friends with Cash and Poe

Him and Cashew are just bookworms together and Poe finds their optimism so quant, so naive, so young in it’s innocence (nevermind that he’s younger than the both of them)

THIS MAN'S SWEATER GAME IS ON POINT

Speaking of games, he actually really likes video games

Less in a here’s my battle station, let’s stomp some n00bs kinda way and more a I have an old cartridge era system in the living room that I play old school games on

Could he make a fortune selling that system and those games on the internet?? Yes.

Does he know that?? Not even a little bit.

Can type surprisingly fast and is an amazing note taker

Bit of a people pleaser too

He’s honestly the perfect assistant and can even get a little— cut throat isn’t the right word…. Sturn?? Serious?? Has a major back bone-y??? When it comes to work

The best assistant his boss ever had tbh

His boss is a lady in her 40’s who wears a lot of pastels and pearls and is p sweet but also very right to business

She does not mince words, very blunt

She’s rubbing off on him a bit, at least professionally 

In his personal life he’s still 10000000% a sweet baby angel

Idk what else there is to say about Nimh other than Fox wants to hug him cause he looks soft and probably smells like vanilla or caramel or something 

[thisisawonderfulusername]

for all time, always

episode one, part one

loki laufeyson x reader

requested by: @lonely-nerd-sodaholic

summary: you've been friends with loki since childhood, and you knew that his views were wrong. you help the avengers capture him in his attempt to take over midgard- and get caught up in the tva.

warnings: none that i can think of? idk tell me if you see anything.

word count: 4.4k

a/n: okay, hi. so this is going to be a series, because the request was so packed and i already had a lot written only 20 minutes into the first episode of the show. so, the first episode will be broken into 2, mainly because i'm figuring out how to write the rest, and i didnt want one part to be ridiculously long.

i'm still thinking of a name for this, so if there are any suggestions please tell me :)

ever since your home planet had been destroyed, way back in your childhood, loki had been your friend. for most of the thousand years you’ve lived, he was your best friend. he helped you feel at home on asgard when you first arrived, and as you grew up next to each other, you became inseparable.

you helped him stay out of too much trouble- though there was no stopping the god of mischief in causing a little chaos. but he always wanted more.

and now you stood in front of him with the avengers, hawkeye pointing an arrow at his face as he catches his breath. the hulk had clearly gotten him good, as there was now a deep, god shaped impression in the floor, and his face was covered in scratches.

you handed a pair of handcuffs to tony- ones that even a god couldn’t break through- and he locked them onto loki’s hands without a struggle from the man. his brother lugged him up off the ground as an agent of shield placed his scepter in a case, and tony carefully placed the tesseract into a hopefully secure briefcase. you didn’t want something like that to escape it’s prison- not into the wrong hands. which, unfortunately, were your friend’s hands.

captain america walked by everyone as you all waited for the two men to finish packing up the dangerous items, speaking into his comms. “on my way to coordinate search and rescue.”

loki’s form changes to look like steve, and you roll your eyes as he mocks the man. “i mean, honestly, how do you even keep your-”

before he can finish the sentence, you place a restraint over his mouth that extends to wrap around his head in order to stay in place, as his brother tells him to shut up in irritation.

you all gather into the elevator- except for the hulk. everyone ushers him away, “maximum occupancy has been reached.” tony tells him, “take the stairs.”

as the doors close, his rageful roar can be heard and a dent is made in the ridiculously strong metal.

the ride down to the main floor of the building is filled with conversation of what’s to happen with loki. the plan was for you and thor to take him back to asgard, to serve his time in a cell strong enough to hold him.

you look to the god next to you. “i thought you were better than this.” you mutter to him, and his head turns as his eyes meet yours. his eyebrows raise, and you know exactly what he’s trying to communicate.

did you really, though?

no.

the doors open to show the busy lobby, and you all begin to escort him out of the building. you are quickly stopped by some agents, including an older man who stops in front of stark and thor. “may i ask you where you’re going?” he questions.

“bit of lunch and then asgard,” thor tells him, glancing to tony before looking back at the man with furrowed eyebrows, “i’m sorry, you are..?”

“alexander pierce,” tony informs, “he’s the man above the folks behind nick fury.”

thor nods in understanding as pierce speaks up again, “my friends call me mr. secretary. i’m gonna have to ask you to turn that prisoner over to me.”

you look to the man, more attentive now, “loki will be answering to odin himself.” you contend, seeing out of the corner of your eye how loki shakes his head with a roll of his eyes.

“no, he’s gonna answer to us.” the man argues, “odin can have what’s left. and i’m gonna need that case.” he nods to where the tesseract is contained. “that’s been shield property for over seventy years.”

one of his guards steps in, “hand over the case, stark.” he moves to grab it from him, but thor quickly puts a hand to his chest to stop him in his tracks.

tony adjusts so the case is further away from them, holding his hand out, “all right, i’m not gonna argue who’s got the higher authority here…”

“i need the case.” the man states strongly.

“i know you got a lot of pull, i’m just saying, jurisdiction-”

they begin to interrupt each other, arguing back and forth about jurisdiction, and agents begin to gather around stark to try to grab the case from him.

suddenly, the case drops from his hand as he gasps, beginning to choke on air as he falls to the ground. your eyes widen, not noticing when the briefcase slides past you on the ground. you have no idea how to help in this situation.

in an instant, the door to the stairwells slams open and your head whips towards it as the hulk hits one of the agents- who drops the case that everyone had been fighting over just seconds.

you’re in shock as it falls open and the tesseract slides across the floor to stop next to loki’s foot. “loki, no!” you shout, and in one quick motion you both bend over to grab it from each other, before you’re going through a portal.

you’re falling out of the sky, and you instinctively grab for loki, managing to find his arm before the two of you crash into a sandy dune of the desert.

you breathe shakily as you quickly sit up, looking to your side as he pulls the mouth guard off. “you’ve got to be kidding me, loki!” you yell at him, pushing up from the ground and shaking the sand off of your hands.

he scoffs as he stands as well, “no, no y/n. you’ve got to be kidding me!” he points a finger at you, “helping those fools?”

your jaw tightens, “those fools were keeping you from destroying a planet! i was keeping you from destroying a planet!”

he shakes his head, chuckling bitterly, “no, i wasn’t destroying midgard.” he argues, “i was going to rule them!”

“you weren’t going to rule them!” you’re voice raises, “you were going to be a cruel tyrant.” he’s about to speak but you shake your head, holding a finger up, “we thought you were dead, and this is the absurdity you pull to rise from the dead?”

he purses his lips, “did you mourn me?”

you sigh, “we all did, loki.” you clench your fist, “your brother, your father-”

“thor’s father.” he interrupts, “you know of my true parentage.”

your teeth grit together, and you bring your hands to your head to be able to run your fingers through your hair. “you are unbelievable.” you mumble, “unbelievable!”

“i am loki, of asgard.” you hear him say, and you spin on your heel to see him standing on a rock, looking at a group of women. “and i am burdened with glorious purpose.”

“loki,” you groan, “stop. just stop.”

one of the women speaks in some foreign language that neither of you understand, and loki is about to respond- until you hear the warbling of a portal opening up. your head turns and you see multiple people, clad in armored gear, stepping out. one of them kneels beside the tesseract.

your friend immediately steps towards them, “don’t touch that.” he commands as they all stand defensively, holding some sort of weapon pointed towards him. your eyebrows furrow as you look around in confusion.

another portal opens and a woman steps out, looking around, “appears to be a standard sequence violation.” she observes, lifting a device that resembled a phone and looking at it, “branch is growing at a stable rate and slope. variants identified.”

you tilt your head, “i beg your pardon.”

“on behalf of the time variance authority, i hereby arrest you for crimes against the sacred timeline. hands up.” she commands, all of the soldiers around her charging their weapons, “you’re coming with us.”

“i’m sorry, who’s ‘us’?” loki questions her, his eyebrows furrowing.

she pulls out her own weapon, not answering the question. “last chance, variants.”

the god next to you chuckles before sniffling, “it’s been a very long day, and i think i’ve had my fill of idiots in armored suits telling me what to do, so,” the woman is slowly beginning to creep towards the two of you, “if you don’t mind, this is actually your last chance. now, get out of my way.”

instead of moving, like you would assume anyone would do when loki commands to, she pulls back and hits him with the stick she holds. now, it seems like he’s moving in slow motion, and your jaw drops. it was quite entertaining, seeing how his hair floated and his face jiggled from the hit he took.

she holds a collar-like thing to his neck and it wraps around, clicking into place. before you can fight against it, another one of the armored people attaches one to you.

“you are now moving at one-sixteenth speed, but feeling all that pain in real time.” she tells him, and you’re quite amazed by this technology- despite the fact that it was being used on you, as well.

as he falls to the ground, he is dropped out of slow motion and hits the ground in real time, at full force. you can’t help but to laugh, until two of the soldiers grab at your arms. two others lift loki up, and you try to struggle against the people now dragging you towards a portal. “reset the timeline.”

your head is turned as they continue to force your steps, watching as the one remaining soldier places a bomb-like thing on the ground. slowly, a glow washes over the sand, but you’re unable to see what happens as you’re shoved through the portal.

the woman who seemed to be in charge grabs both yours and loki’s arms, and the other soldiers seemed to have disappeared- maybe gone to another place?

it doesn’t matter, as she pushes the two of you along, into a room that looked sort of like the lobby to an office building.

your eyebrows furrow as you ask the question that is on both of your minds, “what is this place?”

you don’t get a response, and another man is being pushed through a door to the side. “my dad is on the board of goldman sachs! one call, and your whole job is privatized.” he threatens. the soldier next to him doesn’t say anything, simply grabbing him and forcing him to move along.

loki, at the other side of the woman, looks at her. without a thought, he quickly runs forward. before he can even get halfway across the room, she presses a button and he phases back to her side.

confused, you look at him before trying the same thing as him. again, before you can get far, you appear back at her side. the two of you look at each other with furrowed eyebrows, silently communicating with each other. at the same time, the two of you run forward.

again, your both teleport back to the woman, and this time you stumble back, falling onto the ground.

she rolls her eyes, grabbing the both of you and moving up to the desk as another man leaves the room. the guy working there seems too happy, as he greets her. “hello, ma’am! uh-”

“log this as evidence.” she places the tesseract on the desk, cutting him off and ignoring the clipboard that he was going to hand her.

as you’re walking away, he grabs the cube, “okay, uh, can you at least tell me what it is?”

“it’s the tesseract.” loki pulls away from the lady slightly, “be very careful with it.”

she walks the two of you to what looks to be the doors to an elevator, pulling a lever down as loki turns to her.

“know this. you cross me, there are deadly consequences.” he points a finger at her.

the doors open and she shakes her head, “we’ll see.”

she shoves him through the doors and you try to follow, “hey!” you raise your voice at her as the doors shut on you, “where is he going?”

she ignores you as she stares at the doors, and you stand there for a few minutes. it feels like a lifetime.

when she decided it was time, the lady opened the doors again and like loki, you are pushed inside, and your breathing goes shallow for a moment as you stare at her through the closing doors.

there’s a tap on your shoulder and you jump, quickly turning on your feet and accidentally bumping into the door. in front of you is a robot with claws. “excuse you!” you nearly shout, and the digital face somehow smirks, holding up what looked like a laser pointer.

“hold very still.” the robotic voice tells you, and your eyes widen as something that definitely seemed like a lazer dematerialized your asgardian clothes.

“what-” you look down at your form, now only wearing your undergarments. your gaze falls back on the robot, which smiles at you. “now why would you-”

before you can finish the sentence, you’re dropped through the floor and into different clothes. ones that look like what a prisoner would wear. you hit the ground, almost falling, but you quickly stand back up, straightening your posture. you jump when you see a man sitting behind a desk, a very large stack of papers in front of him.

he pushes the stack towards you. “please sign to verify this is everything you’ve ever said.” he tells you, and you look at him in confusion.

“i’m sorry, what?” you ask, and a printer eats a piece of paper, spitting it out into his hand. he places it on the top with a pen.

“sign this, too.”

you look at the paper, seeing that it had typed exactly what you said. you scoff, “what is this?”

once again, the printer spits out a piece of paper, and you watch as he places it on top. “and this.”

you bite your tongue to keep yourself from saying anything else, stepping forward and grabbing the pen. you aggressively scribble your name on the line that asks for your signature, and step back, motioning at the papers to show that you did it.

once again, you’re dropped through the floor, and you yelp.

in front of you is a large machine that looks like it would be a metal detector, a short man standing on the other side with a clipboard.

he looks at you, “please confirm that to your knowledge you are not a fully robotic being, were born an organic creature, and do, in fact, possess what many cultures would call a soul.”

you stare at him in confusion for a moment, “pardon? if i am a robotic being?”

“that is what i asked, yes.” he responds in a monotonous tone.

you tilt your head, thinking for a moment, “would i not know if i were a robot?”

he writes something down, “thank you for your confirmation, please step through.”

looking at the machine, you take slow steps towards it. you hesitate to move through it, “what would happen if i did turn out to be a robot?”

he looks at you, dropping the board to his side for a moment, “the machine would melt you from the inside out.”

“well, thanks for sugar coating it.” you breathe out, looking at the doors on the other side.

taking one more deep breath, you step into the machine. a bright light flashes in your eyes and you flinch, watching as a polaroid prints to your side. you see a blue glow. “what’s that?” you ask him as he examines it.

“your temporal aura.” he informs.

“...what’s that?” you repeat the question.

rolling his eyes, he motions to the door, “move along, please.”

the doors open, and you’re met with a room that looks like a long queue, due to the ropes that cut it into a line.

“hey there!” a female voice is projected through the room, and you quickly snap your head to the side, trying to find where it was coming from, “you’re probably saying, ‘this is a mistake. i shouldn’t even be here.’”

a tv cuts on in the room, and the image of a cartoon clock spins onto the screen, saluting. “welcome to the time variance authority. i’m miss minutes, and it’s my job to catch you up before you stand trial for your crimes.”

crimes? what crimes did you commit? you just helped save new york from being destroyed by your friend!

“take a ticket.” you look away from the tv as the clock continues to speak, at a man dressed the same as all of the other soldiers. you look towards the empty queue, and you see your friend staring at the tv in confusion.

you quickly snatch one of the tickets, “loki!”

as you weave your way through the line, his eyes widen slightly, “there you are.” he sighs as you get to his side, “this place is insane.”

there’s a loud thundercrack, and you jump slightly as your gaze falls back on the tv. the visual of a lighting strike is on the screen, over the background of stars in space.

“long ago, there was a vast multiversal war. countless unique timelines battled each other for supremacy, nearly resulting in the destruction of…” lines dance across the screen before crashing into each other, and a mushroom cloud from an explosion shows. “...well, everything.”

three figures take over the screen, floating in the galaxy, “but then, the all-knowing time-keepers emerged, bringing peace by reorganizing the multiverse into a single timeline, the sacred timeline.” one single line, like the rest that had exploded, now floats in front of them, “now, the time-keepers protect and preserve the proper flow of time for everyone and everything.”

the background changes to an orange color with lines breaking it up into boxes, and a group of people shows, walking across a white pathway. “but sometimes, people like you veer off the path the time-keepers created.” a new red line appears, and one of the people stops behind the rest, looking around before following the red path. “we call those variants. maybe you started an uprising, or were just late for work. whatever it was, stepping off your path created a nexus event, which, left unchecked, could branch off into madness, leading to another multiversal war.”

new lines begin to emerge from the path, before they’re spreading like wildfire. a warning comes up on the screen, ‘danger: multiverse’.

“but don’t worry! to make sure that doesn’t happen, the time-keepers created the tva and all its incredible workers. the tva has stepped in to fix your mistake and set time back on its predetermined path.”

the variant, as the clock called him, is dragged off by drawings of people that look much like the soldiers who carried you in, and an identical form of the variant drops back into the line, following with the rest of the group. “now that your actions have left you without a place on the timeline, you must stand trial for your offenses. so sit tight, and we’ll get you in front of a judge in no time. just make sure you have your ticket, and you’ll be seen by the next available attendent.” a logo for the tva takes over the screen. “for all time,”

“always.” more voices join in to finish the motto.

the tv cuts back off and you’re standing there in shock for a moment. “this is absurd.” you whisper to yourself.

loki scoffs, “time-keepers? the sacred timeline? who actually believes this bunkum?” he questions, and you shrug your shoulders.

“ticket, sir?” another guard asks the only other ‘variant’ in the room, and the guy motions to his colleague.

“that guy didn’t give me a ticket.” he accuses, “i asked for one!”

an argument breaks out between the two, “what, you’re raising your voice at me, bucket head?” before he can say anything else, the guard taps the glowing end of his weapon to his body, and he begins to disappear.

your jaw drops, and you quickly check that you’re still holding your ticket. “do you- you got a ticket, right?” you ask your friend as he pats his body down before reaching into his pocket and pulling one out.

“yeah,” he breathes a sigh of relief, “i have it.”

you nod, and the two of you get to the front of the line, where the same guy asks you for your ticket.

both of you hold your tickets up, and the guard looks at you. “him first.”

“what-” you glance to loki as he speaks, “we’re going together. we have to.”

the end of his stick begins to glow again, and you quickly step back, “okay, fine.”

the other god in the room looks back to you, and you smile anxiously, “it’s okay. i’ll be right behind you.” you hold two thumbs up, and he shakes his head.

hesitantly, he holds his ticket out, and the same woman who pushed you into that terrible elevator contraption walks up to grab his arm. “don’t get into any more trouble, please!”

“you know me, y/n.” he looks back as he’s dragged away, through a door. you sigh as it slams shut behind him.

looking at the guard, you clear your throat. “so, tva?” you ask, playing with the sleeve of your jumpsuit, “you believe in it?”

when you don’t get an answer, you take in a deep breath, “okay. no talking from you, either.” you rock back on your feet, looking around the silent room. “are all of you the silent type? the most i’ve gotten is ‘sign this’ and ‘step through’.” you mock the voices of the men you came across before getting here.

when you still get no answer, you nod your head and give up. it feels like an eternity before you see a man in a suit entering the room, swiftly making his way towards the same door loki had been pushed through.

just before touching the knob, he quickly looks back at you. a smile appears on his face, “you.”

his eyes seem to be pointed in your direction, but you turn your head to look behind you to see if anyone else had silently made their way into the room, but no. you slowly look back to him, pointing a finger at yourself, “me?”

“yes. you.” he looks at the guard standing next to you. “i’ll be taking her, thank you.”

the man in armor looks at you expectantly, and you hesitate for a moment. “right, yeah.” you quickly hand him your ticket and quickly make your way to the other man. “and who are you?”

“mobius. it’s nice to meet you, y/n.” your eyebrows furrow, but before you can ask how he knows your name when you haven’t said it, he nods to the door, “you may want to be quiet. wouldn’t want to interrupt the court.”

you look at him in confusion, but follow him into the room. at the front, there is a desk overlooking the room, and standing before it is loki, at a sort of speaking pedestal.

you wish to call out to him, but he seems to be fending for himself as you sit in one of the rows of benches next to mobius.

“you speak of time criminals? it’s they you should be after.” he tells the woman looking down on him, “perhaps you could provide me with a taskforce and resources, and i could return and eliminate them for you.”

“we’re not here to talk about the avengers.” the judge speaks sternly, “what they did was supposed to happen. you escaping was not.”

your friend laughs, and you glance at mobius, who doesn’t pay any mind to you. “right. uh… ‘not supposed to happen’? according to whom?” loki asks her.

the woman is clearly getting annoyed, “the time-keepers?”

“oh, the time-keepers. right.” loki nods his head, “well, perhaps i should speak to these time-keepers, gods to gods.”

the lady smiles tightly, “i’m sorry, but they’re quite busy.”

“oh they are? what are they doing?”

“dictating the proper flow of time.”

you bite your lip as you think over what is happening right now. “i see,” loki says, “and what is it that you do?”

she sighs, “dictate the proper flow of time according to their dictations, how do you plead?” she snaps as she finishes her sentence.

pleading? god, what is this place? “guilty…” your eyebrows furrow as you look up at loki, as he slowly puts his arms out. you roll your eyes. “...of this.” he strains his muscles as he puffs his chest out, and you’re confused when nothing happens.

why wasn’t his magic working?

there is stifled laughter from the workers as he tries again, the judge asking what’s going on as he does it one last time. “he’s trying to use his powers, ma’am.”

“damn it! why won’t it work?” he shouts, banging his hands against the rail of the pedestal.

“magic powers?” the judge seems to be ridiculing him now, “they’re no good in the tva, mr. laufeyson. the court finds you guilty, and i sentence you to be reset.” she bangs her gavel, “next case please!”

your eyes widen as loki asks the question you have, “reset? what does that mean?” guards pull him from the pedestal and you jump up from your seat, mobius grabbing your arm before you can even try to help him.

fighting against the guards, loki shouts at her, “you have no idea what i’m capable of!”

standing, mobius joins into the conversation. “i… i think i might.” the room goes quiet as the few people inside look at him, “have an idea of what he’s capable of.”

the judge tilts her head, “approach the bench.”

the man mutters and “excuse me.” as he moves by you, and you watch as he moves past the pedestal and to the base of the desk, looking up at her.

you quickly move forward, wanting to help loki from the guards’ grasp, but you’re quickly stopped by another one. you groan, instead having to watch as mobius has a quiet conversation with the judge.

he seems to win whatever argument they’re having, and he glances at you and loki.

“and who are you?” loki asks the question you already had before you came into this room.

mobius simply smiles.

taglists

main: @horrorklaus @megasimpleplan4ever

marvel: none yet

loki: none yet

[sidespart]

For the fake fic title, “who tf is Larry?”

Human AU /fake dating AU Intruality or pre relationship Patton/Janus/Remus

okay so Patton Sanders is away at collage and he is a Good Boy (tm). He volunteers Saturday, goes to church on Sunday, arrives 30 min early for his 8 am Monday lecture and brightly asks how everyone’s weekend was. He brings home made cookies to his seminars and lets everyone copy his notes and is always polite and kind to everyone he meets.

Unfortunately, a lot of this gets him labelled as weird, childish, naïve etc etc

Which he can cope with when it’s strangers, but he can’t help but get annoyed when it comes from his family.

He’s got three big brothers. Roman and Logan are both massive overachievers, Roman is super social and has had an endless parade of boyfriends, Logan claims he isn’t social but runs like 5 different clubs at his college and has an endless parade of minions. Both of them have a bad habit of talking over Patton and not truly listening to his contributions. Virgil’s a bit more chill but he’s completely overprotective and treats Patton like he’s a kid who can’t survive on his own. (Early episode vibes).

So there's some family obligation (mom wants them to...take grandma to the... old folks .. .church picnic? IDK something) and everyone just straight up assumes Patton will go because 'its not like he's doing anything else' and its just one step too far and Patton just blurts out "UM actually I'm busy that day. With Larry."

Which...who tf is Larry?

After that Patton maybe gets a bit addicted to the Larry excuse. Can't bring cookies because his boyfriend Larry licked all of them. Can't help you move this weekend, going to SeaWorld with Larry. Oh wait SeaWorld's unethical? Yeah he knows, it's a protest. Larry's going to dress as an ochrea and scream at people. Cant lend you the money - Larry needs it for bail.

(This might not have escalated so much if Patton wasn't TERRIBLE at lying, juts blurting out the first nonsensical thing he thinks of, but also has such a reputation of goody-two-shoes-ness that no one suspects him of lying. But everyone is very concerned about his association with Larry.)

The only person who knows Larry is fake is Patton's roommate Janus, who was there when Patton was on the video call and originally came up with Larry. He thinks the entire thing is hilarious and does absolutely NOTHINHG to reign Patton in, frequently helping him maintain the ruse/ escalating it further ("Patton would DIE if he knew i was telling you this, but the real reason he can't come to your birthday is Larry's old prison injury is acting up again..."). This whole thing has brought them closer than any of Patton's prior attempts at bonding with his roommate so he's a bit pleased.

Things go wrong when his brothers insist he bring Larry home for thanksgiving break. He's already told them that Larry got disowned by his family (seemed easier than making up a whole supporting cast) and is unemployed so he can't think of a great excuse (and his brothers are VERY insistent) so he ends up agreeing.

Patton and Janus get drunk in their room to toast the end of the Larry ruse. Janus insists Patton should just get a friend to pretend to be Larry to keep the game going but Patton says his only real friend is Jan and his family already know what he looks like (he has a pretty distinctive face tattoo) so that cant happen. Jan say's in that case lets just hire someone on Craig'sList to be your badass brother bothering boyfriend and Patton laughs and then has no memory of the rest of that evening.

So Patton drive's home. Hungover and resigned to having to come clean about lying for months and months. And when he walks in the door his mom hugs him and says “oh! Larry got here just before you! You never told me he had a moustache!”

So then a guy Patton has never seen before in his life is planting a big ol sloppy kiss on his cheek and yelling 'Heya honey bunch!!" and his brothers are in the background looking like they're about to have a collective breakdown and um.

He really just needs to get 5 minuets away from his family and 'Larry' so he can call Janus and ask what the fuck have you done, but with Larry clinging to him like an octopus and his brothers refusing to let them out of their sight that's almost impossible

bonus points!

Remus considers himself a method actor and refuses to respond to anything but Larry/ stop pretending to be Pat's boyfriend even when they're alone

Pattons mom is, inexplicably, completely charmed by Remus/Larry and wont stop telling him how much more confident and happy Patton has been since the two of them got together

his brothers are all horrified by Remus/Larry

Patton does eventually get in contact with Jan who is like...okay yes maybe i wrote the criaglist add after you passed out but in my defence i was extremely drunk at the time

Patton tells his mom that Janus wasn't invited home for thanksgiving (which tbf, is true, because his family's in freakin' europe) so of course she insists that he drive over an join them

this does not calm anything down, as he pisses off Virgil within the first 20 seconds of arriving, but he does distract everyone to give Patton more chances to sneak away with Remus

eventually Patton has a bit of a break down/ rant to Remus about the whole situation and Remus finally drops character to comfort him and is like "I don't get why you need to lie about yourself anyway?? Like I've spent this whole weekend learning about you and you're awesome the way you are??"

Patton: HEART EYES EMOJI

Anyway so eventually OBVIOUSLY they fall for each other and fake boyfriend becomes real boyfriend

Remus and/or Jan deliver some sort of smack down speech to the bros about how they need to have more faith in Pat/not treat him like a child etc etc

Patton learns to stand up for himself and also realises he's so lucky to have so many people who love /care about him even if they are all completely ridiculous

at some point, Remus initiates a food fight

[helnjk]

Stitching Together - G.W.

George Weasley x fem!reader 

Requested: yes !! by my lovely bean marissa @lumos-barnes

please accept my humble request for a george x reader where the reader owns a shop in diagon alley and one day they walk into WWW and george knocks over a whole display, he is a complete SIMP & cannot compose himself. complete buffoonery when the reader is near. they become friends & do all these nice things for each other and the reader is oblivious like "george, i'm so lucky to be your friend" (even though the reader is secretly simping) and he's like "um what, i'm literally in love with you"

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: mentions of meals and drinks (coffee), but other than that it’s just pure fluff & Dumb Idiots In Love

A/N: somehow i always end up writing george knitting? idk how it happened, but it happened. i hope you like it marissa 🥺💕

–

You took a step back to admire your handiwork. 

After what seemed like neverending hours, the layout of your shop was finally perfect. From where you stood, you had a view of the streets of Diagon Alley, several passersby coming and goings from your sight. The display of charmed knit work by the window was already moving, demonstrating simple stitches that formed into a scarf. 

It had always been your dream to open up your own shop in the most prominent wizarding area of Britain, with your passion for knitting and crafting, but the timing had always been off. Now, about a year or so since the war had ended, your grandmother surprised you with the capital to make your dreams come true. 

The gesture was extra special because she was the one who first taught you how to knit. Many summers were spent in her cottage, sitting side by side and working on personal projects together. 

Outside, your sign read ‘Stitching Together: Grand Opening’. There were a few flyers posted right on the door and on the window advertising the different classes and crafting groups you were offering, as well as the different products that could be found in your store. 

It was as if your heart could burst at the sight of your fully furnished shop and you could wait no longer. With a flick of your wand, the sign on the door flipped to say open and that was that. 

–

“Hey Freddie, have you seen that new shop that’s opened down the street?” George yelled from the bottom of the stairs once the last customer of the day made their leave. 

“Haven’t gone in, but it’s gotten a lot of customers from what I can tell!” the disembodied voice of his twin replied from somewhere above. 

As he began the process of cleaning up and reshelving, products floating in midair or zooming towards their proper shelves, he called out once more, “What type of store is it d’you reckon?” 

“Arts and crafts? Something like that.” 

George’s eyes drifted towards the shop window, where he could just barely see the outline of the new store. Dusk had begun to set in London, so the sky was filled with brilliant hues of purple and orange. His curiosity getting the better of him, he decided that he would go welcome the new shop owner to Diagon Alley. 

With a shout to let his twin know where he was off to, George strode out of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and into the brisk weather. Luckily for him, Stitching Together was still open. He could see you bustling around inside, fixing displays and swishing your wand to tidy everything up.

It had only been around a month since your shop had opened, but the local wizard folk of London seemed to be very keen on buying the different things you sold. Many came around to purchase the instructional books and the different kinds of wool and yarn, and some of your regulars had even taken an interest in the classes you held weekly. It was a great way for you to get to know the community and to establish friendships. 

You had always taken note of the joke shop a few shops down from you, but with the hustle and bustle of just opening, you hadn’t had a chance to visit or introduce yourself to the owners. It was just your luck that one half of them pushed open the door to your shop, the little bell at the top of it ringing to indicate his presence. 

“Oh, hello!” you smiled, turning to face the redheaded man, “Welcome to Stitching Together, what could I help you with?” 

Unbeknownst to George, your heart began to beat rapidly in your chest. How could a man be so positively handsome you didn’t know, but at the sight of him standing by the door, all you could think about was how gorgeous he was. And he hadn’t even uttered a single word yet! 

The charming smile he sent your way did not help the heat you could feel creeping up your neck. “Just popping by to say hello and welcome to Diagon Alley! My twin and I run Wheezes just down the street,” he said. 

Your smile grew as he stuck his hand out for you to shake, “Oh I was just thinking about how I’ve been wanting to pay your shop a visit! I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“George Weasley at your service,” his hand was firm and warm as he shook yours, eyes sparkling with something you couldn’t quite name. “Nice to meet you!” 

“So tell me about your shop!” 

Somehow, after that evening, George Weasley snuck his way into becoming a part of your daily routine.

Every morning he would show up with two cups of coffee in hand right before your shop was set to open. After realizing that you depended on caffeine to function throughout your day, he made it a point to bring you one everyday. As you sipped on your coffees, the two of you would spend a few minutes chatting about your plans for the day before going to work. 

Whenever you would offer to pay for your own cup or even try to insinuate that you could get your own coffee in the morning, just so that he wouldn’t have to go through the trouble, he would stop you in your tracks.

“But George–”

“Nope!” he would say in a voice louder than yours. “I’m doing this out of the kindness of my heart. I really feel for your customers who have to deal with a Y/N that hasn’t had her coffee fix. Could you imagine the grumpiness? Not on my watch!” 

You would roll your eyes, but secretly it warmed your heart how sweet this boy could be. He was slowly inching his way into your life and becoming a great friend. 

–

“So,” said Fred one day as George had gotten back from delivering your daily coffee, “The bird from the knitting shop, huh?” 

His twin only rolled his eyes in response, used to the teasing that came with being brothers (and twins) with Fred Weasley. Instead of engaging, George went instead to do the routine last check over their store before they officially opened their doors. Still, Fred couldn’t resist the temptation to continue provoking him. 

“Oi! C’mon, you bring her coffee everyday even if you don’t like the stuff. If I don’t remind you that you have a store to run, you would spend the whole day staring out the window just to catch a glimpse of the girl! Tell me you’re not whipped for her,” he teased, following George through the shop.

From their position at the till and on the second floor, both Verity and Lee tried to hide their smirks. This was too good a story to not eavesdrop on. 

“Come off it, Fred.” George rolled his eyes. “I’m just being a good friend, that’s all!” 

“Yeah but you wouldn’t mind being more than friends.” 

The cheeky wink Fred sent George was not appreciated, as the prior soon found out, having to duck away from a stinging hex. Still, Fred’s laugh rang through the semi-empty store as he ran away from his brother. 

Later in the day, as the lunch crowd tapered off, the four of them were left to mull around a bit. Lee and Verity were off taking stock in the back room, Fred was doing some accounting (because his twin couldn’t be trusted with any sort of math), and George was reshelving some Skiving Snackboxes. 

The bell above the door to the shop rang, but he couldn’t quite tell who came in from his position towards the back of the shop. 

“Welcome to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes!” he yelled, rushing to get all the boxes in order before he could help the new customer, “I’ll be with you in just a second!” 

Just as he admired his handiwork, eyes scanning the display to make sure nothing was out of place, a familiar voice called from behind him, “It’s alright, take your time. I’m not looking for anything in particular.” 

George almost jumped out of his skin as he heard your voice. He was so surprised that as he turned to meet you, his elbow caught on the edge of one of the Snackboxes and the whole thing toppled over. 

You watched as the tower of boxes crumbled around him, and your hand automatically covered your mouth as you tried to contain your laughter. It didn’t work, though, and soon the whole store could hear your guffaws. 

Thankfully, George was a wizard, and what would’ve taken a muggle quite some time to fix, only took a quick flick of his wand. 

“Oops,” you smiled at him bashfully as he finished, “Didn’t mean to startle you, Weasley.”

“Erm, it-it’s alright,” he blushed, “I just didn’t expect you to come ‘round today.” 

In truth, the reason why George was so flustered at your appearance at his shop was because he had just spent most of the afternoon thinking about you. He often did that, getting lost in his thoughts about the many little things that made you, well, you. The deep breath you took before that first sip of coffee in the morning, revelling in the aroma. How your face lit up when you spoke about the different people you met in your classes. Your hands and how skillfully they worked whatever project you were creating at the moment. 

He wouldn’t admit it to Fred, but what his twin had said earlier in the day was accurate. He was absolutely smitten over you. 

“Well you’ve been a regular over at mine for the last couple of weeks, I’m just returning the favor and visiting my favorite redhead at his place of work!” 

“I-I,” he stuttered, his brain refusing to acknowledge the fact that he was your favorite anything. 

Fred, who had heard the commotion and had gone down to check if everything was okay, nearly face palmed as he watched George fumble through his words. The man was whipped for you, no doubt about it, and as a good twin, he decided to save his brother from further humiliation. 

“I think what my lovely twin here is trying to say, is that you just haven’t met enough redheads to make your decision about your favorite one,” he said, smoothly inserting himself into the conversation. “Fred Weasley, at your service!” 

Your smile immediately brightened at the sight of George’s twin holding out his hand for you to shake, “Nice to meet you! I’m Y/N, George’s told me loads about you!” 

“Has he?” Fred raised his eyebrow, turning to look at George who was still a little dumbstruck at the sight of you in his shop. “Well, that just means it’s my turn to spend some time with such a lovely lady. C’mon, I’ll give you a tour of the shop!”

“Oh I’d love that.” 

With a small glance and wave at George, you took the arm that Fred was holding out for you, and so began his (largely amusing) tour of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. 

“What in Merlin’s name was that!” yelled Fred the moment you left the shop. 

George groaned into his hands, embarrassment creeping back into him. He had acted a fool, unable to even mutter a single sentence to you the whole time you were around. 

“Mate, I have never seen you so flustered around a girl,” his twin muttered, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Just tell her you’ve got feelings for her! Ask her on a date, do something! From what I could tell, you’re not the only one who’s caught feelings.” 

“It’s not like that between us,” he said, “I doubt she even notices how much I fancy her.” 

–

Somehow, George wound up taking Fred’s advice. Though, in typical-George fashion, he never explicitly mentioned to you anything about the way he felt. 

Instead, he would stay around your shop longer in the mornings, taking slower than usual sips of his coffee (which he still couldn’t say he preferred over a good cup of tea). Other days, he would come around closing time and help put everything back in order and if he was lucky, the two of you would go out to dinner. Of course, he would also never let you pay a sickle for your meal, no matter how much you insisted. 

Weekends were usually spent together as well. 

Saturdays were for brunch and muggle films on the telly. It was one of the rare occasions he would drink a beverage in front of you that wasn’t that (god forsaken) coffee. 

Sundays were more for crafting together. He would floo into your flat after having lunch with his family and the two of you would continue working on his little project. 

“My mum loves to knit,” he mentioned one day, while he observed your quick hands skillfully moving the thread through your needles. “She knits us all sweaters for Christmas. It’s become a tradition of sorts.” 

“That’s lovely,” you smiled up at him.

“Yeah, anyone who’s practically family gets one too. Like Harry and Hermione,” he mused.

“I could teach you how to knit her something, if you wanted,” you offered. “It’d be something pretty simple though, especially if you’ve never knitted anything before.”

The smile he sent you was so dazzling, you had to take a moment. You were practically melting under his tender gaze and you swallowed thickly, trying to gain your composure. 

 “That’d be bloody brilliant, Y/N!” 

You only hoped he didn’t notice how your face got hot and how your hands couldn’t move the needles to do what you wanted, too flustered to be precise with your movements.

Since then, the two of you spent most of Sunday afternoons making sure George had the correct strings of yarn on the correct needle. You would keep a close eye on him and his progress, but most of the time he was alright on his own. Sometimes, he would purposely sit closer to you on your couch and you could practically feel the warmth radiating from him. 

In between knits, your eyes would drift towards his focused face and you would smile. George had a habit of poking the tip of his tongue out when he was knitting. Something about the gesture helped him concentrate, and you found it absolutely adorable.

The more time you spent together, though, the more confused George got. It was getting to a point where in his head, it was impossible to miss what he was trying to say with his actions. You had to have caught on by now. And, since you hadn’t acknowledged what was going on between the two of you, he had assumed that this was your polite way of rejecting him.  

On a chilly morning, he clutched the warm cups of coffee in his hands as he pushed the door to Stitching Together open with his back. 

“Morning, Y/N!” he greeted.

You grinned in his direction as he made his way towards you. The moment he placed the warm drink in your hands and you took your first sip, a small moan of gratefulness escaped your lips.

“Merlin, I don’t deserve you,” you mumbled to your cup. 

“Sorry?” George asked, brows furrowed slightly. 

“Oh nothing!” you quickly said, “I’m just really glad you’re my friend, Georgie.” 

Friend. 

The word seemed to make his heart sink down to his stomach and ignite something in him at the same time. It was time that he told you how he felt, no matter what would happen afterwards. He couldn’t keep going on pretending he wasn’t head over heels in love with you. 

“Erm, about that Y/N,” he began, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his work uniform, “I’ve got to tell you something.” 

It was now or never. 

You smiled up at him encouragingly, almost oblivious to the bundle of nerves that were most definitely visible in his expression. 

“I-I don’t want to be just friends, Y/N,” he said, lips pursed in anticipation.

“What do you want then?” you still didn’t understand what he was trying to say. 

In a burst of confidence, George took your hands in his and gripped them tightly, “I want to be with you. I fancy you loads, I think I might even be in love with you, Y/N. Honestly, I might’ve been in love with you from the moment I first walked into your shop.” 

Your lack of an immediate response left him to back track, “But I understand completely if you don’t feel the same way, I just wanted to get it out there.” 

For a moment, the two of you were silent. George eyed you nervously, wondering what was going on through your head, bracing himself for the rejection that he thought was on the tip of your tongue. 

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore, “Y/N? Do you want me to go?” 

Instead of answering, you flung your arms around his neck. He was so startled at your sudden gesture that he almost didn’t notice your lips on his. Almost. 

As suddenly as you had kissed him, all of his apprehensions melted away. Almost automatically, his arms found themselves wrapped around your waist and he pulled you closer to him. Your lips melted together seamlessly. It was as if this was where the two of you were meant to be, and you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. 

Sooner than you had liked, George pulled away from you slightly. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t help but dip his head down to peck your lips again. Once, twice, three times. This left you a giggly mess, your nose scrunching up in a way that was practically begging him to kiss it as well. 

“Does that mean you fancy me too?” he murmured against your lips. 

“Absolutely, head over heels,” you smiled in return. 

The pair of you spent a brief moment with your foreheads pressed together, giddy smiles on your faces. That was until a knock on the door of your shop sounded. Immediately, you sprung apart, a blush coating tip of George’s ears and cheeks. 

A few people stood outside, eyeing you amusedly. 

“Oh shit,” you said, hurrying to flip the sign on the door to say ‘open’ and to unlock the door with a flick of your wand. “I completely forgot I had a class today.” 

As the small group of people began to file inside, they sent knowing glances your way to which you only groaned softly and looked up at George.

“I’ll see you tonight?” you asked hopefully. 

With a kiss to your cheek and a mischievous grin he said, “You can count on it, love.” 

–

General taglist: @expectoevans @george-fabian-weasley @gxthsanrio @slytherinscribbles @harpyloon @nuttytani @mesmerisedangel @amourtentiaa @sarcasticallywitty15 @lumos-barnes

Weasley twins taglist: @whizboingies @pineapplesandpinas @papapapadumb @Mrs-g-weasley @a-castle-of--glass @hey-there-angels @leovaldez37 @pinkypurplemagic @werewolfslut @surprizeshawtyy

crossed out means i couldn’t tag you for some reason, sorry!

[teddy06writes]

PLEEAASE 😭😭 I'm begging you for some hurt/comfort resolution for the last karlnapity x reader and sleepy bois brothers!! I just want them all to be happyyy. If the 3 lives was implemented, or if reader came back like ghostbur and the hurt is raw for the loved ones, the fallout and fixing, the love and regret i- (I loved the fic, your karlnapity are my favorite!! keep up the awesome work!! <3)

sapnap x karl x quackity x reader + sleepy boys x silbing!reader

trigger warnings: mention character death (it’s you, your the dead one) yelling, swearing,

requested by the anon above, another anon: “ngl after reading that angst fic I can picture y/n ( even tho I know y/n came back with knowing who the boys were ) coming back kinda like ghostbur knowing the boys voices but can't exactly place their names and who they are to them or something like that ?? idk my brain went think of more angst after that fic - also sorry this is just me rambling. love your work btw !!” 

as well as @tobiostfu @theprocrastinatingshipper @pastelvixenbeauty  and probably some more folks I might have missed

premise: this is a part two to the other angst thing from the other day, so I recommend you read that for context, this is a resolve (ish) to that 

(y/n/n)- your nickname

“blep”- talking

‘blep’ thinking

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

You had drifted the lands of the SMP, and L’Manburg for sometime trying to remember what had happened, and why everyone was always yelling.

You’d try to talk to Karl, after Alex and Nick had left, but he just ignored you.

Now you were perched on the top of the stage, looking out ‘why are the walls gone?’, and then looking down, confused, at the strange, cage like structure built at the center.

You heard a sigh, and turned to see Eret looking up at the cage as well, you hopped down off the stage and concentrated, “Eret?”

They jumped, looking around, “What the hell?”

You screwed your eyes shut ‘please see me please see me please-’

“(y/n)?”

You opened your eyes to see Eret looking at you in shock, “Eret! I’m so glad to see you! Everyone’s been ignoring me lately, and acting like I’m not here, and I don’t get it.”

“(y/n)?” His voice was shaking.

“Yeah, Eret. It’s me!” You giggled, “What’s going on here? Did I miss the festival?”

“(Y/n).”

You looked at her confused, “Yeah. W- whats-”

“(y/n/n)?” A teary voice behind you called.

You grinned turning around, running to hug him, “Karl! I missed you! Why did you keep ignoring me?”

He began to cry as you sailed through him, “(y/n/n).”

“Karl? Karl love why are you crying? Eret what’s going on?”

Karl all but fell to his knee’s burring his head in his hands, muffling his sobs, “(y/n/n)!”

You sat beside him, continually trying to wrap your arms around him, but instead they just past through, over, and over, and over and over again, “Wh- why can’t I- what’s- what- Eret whats?”

Tears similar to Karl’s began to roll down your cheeks, as you looked down at your hands, only now noticing how gray your skin looked, “What’s going on?”

“(y/n),” You could tell Eret was fighting to keep their voice from shaking, “Do you not remember?”

“Remember what? What’s going on?”

Karl sobbed louder, and Eret shook her head, “(y/n), I- theres a path, through the woods, behind- up behind the hill. I- I need you to go up there, as far as it goes, alright?”

You nodded, “Why?”

“Just go. I’m going to take Karl back home. Maybe- maybe don’t come back to his house for a while.”

Eret gently helped Karl up, and led him away, his sobs still echoing in your head.

‘what the hell is going on here?’

Slowly you drifted up towards the hill Eret had spoken of, ‘hey, pogtopia is this way! maybe I’ll go see Wil an’ Tommy an’ Techno! They’ll know what’s going on.’

You continued to drift up the path, humming quietly and wondering what Eret had sent you to look at, and why Karl had been crying.

You looked up and around at all the trees, trying to remember them. It was in bits and pieces, Tommy yelling about about freedom, Wilbur saying how proud Phil would be.

You remembered the forests burning, ‘who had done that?’, hiding in the woods after- after something- tnt, blow- after L’manburg had been blown up.

You stopped moving, looking down confused at the stone you had come across, it as large, flat and upright, and you looked at the words confused.

‘(Y/n) brave beyond words, hero of L’manburg’ there were various flowers scattered around, a sword stuck out of the ground, a flower chain wrapped around it’s hilt, there was a uniform jacket, one you vaguely recognized as your own and a bandana, also tied to the hilt of the sword.

Someone dropped something, a sword, “(y/n)?”

“Techno! I missed you! Everyone down in L’manburg is being wierd and when I finally got Karl to stop ignoring me he just started crying, and there’s this weird thing up on the stage and the walls are gone, and Eret told me to come up here, and why is my name on this headstone?”

“(y/n/n) I’m sorry,” Your brother fell to his knees, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean too! They made me!”

“What are you talkin about Tech?”

“How are you back here? I’m sorry! This is my fault I did this to you!”

You were surprised to see your brother crying, “What’s wrong Techno?”

“You don’t remember?”

“(Y/n)?” Another voice asked.

You turned, looking at Wilbur, “Wilbur what’s going on? No one’s answering me again, and I’m scared that they can’t see me again! And I’m really confused and I made Karl cry and I don’t get it!”

“(y/n) your dead, you died, you- how are you?” Wilbur stuttered.

“Wha- wh- d- dead? What do you mean?” You watched as Wilbur carefully placed himself between you and a still crying Techno.

“You died, a few days ago. (y/n/n).”

You sank to the ground, fading away so that your brothers wouldn’t see.

~~ “So you don’t remember anything?” The man with the rams horns asked.

You shook your head, “Not everything. Just a lot of things. Wilby says I’m dead, which I guess makes sense now.”

You’d continue drifting around L’manburg, for a while, trying to figure out what had happened on your own, and ended up sitting dejectedly outside the white house, you could remember making it with Tubbo.

“Well I’m Shlatt.” He shuffled around in his desk, looking for something.

“Shlatt?” You paused, trying to remember him, pretending not to notice to see the fear that flashed in his eyes, “Your.. you were here before L’manburg right?”

“Yeah, uh, here.” He pulled out a book and quill, “Uh, write down what you remember, that might help.”

You looked at him quizzically, “I can’t touch things, uh- or manipulate objects in the normal world with out using huge amounts of energy.”

He frowned and quickly picked up the pen, “You dictate then.”

You hummed, “Well, things I remember....”

~~

Alex woke with a start, sitting up from where he was hunched over his desk, blinking at the harsh afternoon light that was drifting through his office window.

He still hadn’t been back to the house since the fight after the execution, and had been forcing himself into work to mask the grief.

“So is there anything else? It doesn’t seem like you remember much.” Shlatt’s voice was muffled by the wall.

“Well it’s a bit foggy towards the end, and the beginning Ooo! I remember Alex and Nicky and Karl too! I could never forget them!”

Alex froze at the familiar giggle.

“Yeah, you never used to shut up about your boyfriends.” Shlatt chuckled.

Alex was running down the hall and slamming the door to the presidents office open before he could register he was moving, “Shlatt am I going insane or...”

He trailed off as your floating grayish form turned to him, “Alex! I couldn’t find you! And I didn’t know what was going on and everyone was ignoring me then I saw Wil and Techno and they told me I was dead. and then I found Shlatt! And he’s helping me write down what I remember! Have you met Shlatt? He’s nice!”

“Shlatt what the fuck is this?” He spoke through you as if you weren’t even there.

“Your partner. Apparently no one around has been helping them sort things out,” The president stood up and moved around his desk, “Ghosts tend to forget things of there past lives, and no one was helping them, so I am.”

“Did you tell them what happened? Why there fuckin- floating around instead of being here with us?” Alex spat.

Shlatt sighed, “Quackity listen this is a delicate thing. Right now it’s be better to help them remember than just tell them. So go find your stupid boyfriends and tell them the situation!”

“I cant Shlatt, we broke up. They don’t want to see me.”

“Is that what you were yelling about?” You asked quietly.

Alex looked at you, shocked, “You heard that?”

“Yeah. You and Nick made Karl cry. And then I couldn’t do anything about it,” you looked down at the floor, “w- is it my fault y- we’re broken up now?”

Alex remained silent so you continued, “I’m trying to remember what I did. And how I died. But if I did something stupid, or something to hurt you, I’m sorry.”

You were crying again, and Shlatt glared at Alex, which somehow surprised you, “This is why is trying to fucking handle this. Leave. Tell the others or not I don’t care, they’ll find out eventually.”

“Wh- Shlatt they- How-”

“I said get out,” Shlatt said firmly, “At least let me try to fix things I’ve fucked up.”

Alex shook his head before turning and heading out of the office, only ducking into his own long enough to grab something before stalking out of the building.

Shlatt turned back to you, already starting to pick the pen back up, “So what else do you remember about.. uh, your last few days. What do you remember right before the end?”

“Did they really break up because of me? If I did something I should go apologized.”

“Hey, hey, no, it ain’t your fault. I’ll go yell at them later. Tell me more about what you remember about the festival.”

~~ “Why the fuck are we here Shlatt?” Tommy half yelled.

Tommy, Technoblade, Wilbur, Alex, Nick and Karl were all gathered in front of Shlatt in the holy land.

“So, some of you may know, some of you may not, (Y/n) is back,” He looked over all the faces, Karl already looking like he was about to cry, and Nick frozen in shock, “For the past week or so they’ve been wandering and apparently none of you have been doing anything to help them.”

“Ghosts don’t remember much from there past lives, so good job on all of you that knew, you left your partner or sibling lost and confused,” He dropped the book you’d written together on the table, “I did my best, they remember everything that's written down here. I couldn’t tell them much about what they forgot, because it’s not my place.

“If you guys want, I can keep talking to them, and doing my best, but incase you haven’t noticed I’m also the fucking president. I can’t spend all my time helping educate a ghost. They disappeared yesterday, after saying something about Karl and how they saw you fools yelling, so, this is in your court now.”

Shlatt turned a walked away, heading back towards Manburg.

With shaking hands Tommy took the book, reading aloud,

“Things I remember: Home, fire, Phil finding me, Wilbur never having seen a child before, Techno swearing he’d protect me, fire, Tommy trying to spar with me before he could walk right, Techno teaching me to fight, finding the SMP lands, L’manburg, fighting for independence, fire,

“the forests burning, seeing Nick for the first time, Babysitting Fundy, winning independence, Eret leaving, fire, destruction, L’manburg thriving, the sun, Tubbo and his bees, more people coming to the country, meeting Karl, finding Alex, when we got our act together and finally all started dating.

“Wil threatening Nick and nick not being scared, Techno threatening all of them and making them terrified. Pogtopia, the cavern The festival, the dunk tank, Techno almost crying, my boys, fire.”

He looked up at his brothers, “You knew they were back?”

“I was in shock,” Techno was staring at his boots, clearing his throat uncomfortably, “Y’know I swore I’d protect ‘em, but- I- I killed ‘em.”

Nick grabbed the book from Tommy, “We have to find them.”

~~

“Fundy can you turn the page for me please?”

The fox nodded, “Course (y/n).”

Most of the shock had worn off, and now he was mostly just happy to see you again, even going and finding an old photobook Wilbur had given him a while ago.

“Oh I remember this!” You pointed to a photo, it was taken a year after Phil had found you, “There was a big fire across the field, and while they were taking care of it I got scared and ran away, Techno found me in a tree.”

Fundy laughed, “3 year old you got in a tree by yourself?”

“Yeah, furball, I was in a tree when Philza found me too.” You chuckled.

“Hey Fundy, have you...” Niki burst in the door, tailing off as she saw you.

You waved “Hey Niki.”

“Uhh, Your brothers, and your partners are looking for you.”

You frowned, “Are they still my partners if I’m dead?”

Niki gave you a sad look, “Come on. Sapnap hasn’t seen you and he’s worried.”

“They all fought because of me, I’d rather stay here,” You looked out the door warily, “I don’t want to make things worse than they already are.”

“They need you (y/n), you brought them together.”

You drifted around Fundy and towards the door, “Making things worse isn’t something I want to do.”

You went through the door, past the group of people, making your form fade as much as possible so as not to be noticed, from there you wandered down to the docks, sitting on the edge to look over the channel.

“Phil sent a letter, said he’s devastated your gone, but overjoyed your still here.”

You looked up at Techno, “How’d you know I’d be down here?”  

“You always liked the water,” He chuckled, “Specially if there was a fire goin on somewhere else.”

“I don’t want to make things worse, if your here to take me back there.”

“I’m here to apologize. I know you don’t remember, but in case you do, I’m sorry, I had to do it.”

You laughed, “Your my big brother Tech, I doubt I’d be mad at you if I remembered.”

He smiled sadly, sitting down next to you, “Why do you think you’ll make things worse?”

You sighed, “Well when I first came back, I thought everyone was ignoring me. And when I found L’manburg again Karl and Nick and Alex were fighting about something I did, and then when Eret finally saw me Karl started crying, and then when I found you and Wilby you started crying and I just- I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

Techno looked at you, “If anything it’s our fault. All of this.”

“Techno, can we talk to (y/n)?”

You froze at Nick’s voice, but your brother was already moving, and Your partners were taking his place.

“(y/n/n), we’re sorry-”

“Stop,” You cut Alex off, “Whatever’s happening stop. You can’t apologize to me for shit I did that I can’t remember.”

“(y/n/n), we aren’t apologizing for that, that's not even your fault. We’re apologizing for fighting as soon as you were gone.” Nick said.

“Please come back with us. Don’t disappear,” Karl’s voice was barley a whisper, “We can help you remember.”

You bit your lip, sobbing, “I don’t want to make things hard on you guys. I didn’t even want to come back like this! Before I woke up again, it was just darkness, and it was horrible. but somehow staying there for eternity seems better than this.”

All three sets of arms passed through you, all of your boyfriends forgetting they couldn’t hold you, only making you cry harder.

~~

“I want to be resurrected.”

It had been a week and a half since the day at the docks. You hadn’t gone back with them, though you had continued hanging around Manburg, talking mainly to Shlatt, and by now you just wanted to go back to the normal you remembered.

“Resurrected?” Dream looked at you curiously.

“Yeah. I want to go back. If I can’t stay dead the normal way and I’m stuck here then I want it to be normal. I want to hug my boyfriends, and ruffle my little brothers hair!”

The man behind the mask merely cocked his head, “So why did you come to me?”

“You’re essentially a god in these lands. I figured you might know someone or someway for me to be resurrected,” The mask shifted and you could almost here the plan formulating in his mind, “And if it ends up failing I don’t want it to hurt anyone else.”

The man sighed, “It would be a very complicated process. It’s been what, three weeks since you died, what ever was left of your body is going to be- less than in good condition.”

“What was left?” You questioned.

“Oh, (y/n), didn’t they tell you?”  Had the mask been gone you would have seen the gleam of wickedness in his eyes, “You went off with a bang.”

~~

“You’re planning what?” Shlatt yelled, incredulous.

You’d told Shlatt about the plan for resurrections, seeing as he was one of the only one who really still talked to you, “I have to do it Shlatt! I can’t stay like this! I want things to be normal! I want-” Your voice grew small, “I want to take back what you took from me.”

Fear flashed in the horned mans eyes, “He told you.”

“Even you wouldn’t,” You said dejectedly, “I thought you were my friend.”

“I- I was your friend, At some points at least.”

He watched as you floated away, “I suppose we’ll see once I’m back.”

As soon as you were gone Shlatt was hurrying out of his office, “Quackity! Quackity, some shit is about to hit the fan! You better call the idiots in Pogtopia!”

It didn’t take long for him to assemble your brothers and partners, frantically telling them the situation, “Dream is up to something with this people! He obviously is doing some manipulation shit!”

“Why do you even care Shlatt?” Tommy asked, “Your the bitch who killed them, so why should you care if they come back?”

“Sorry that the one time I’m willing to look past shit you don’t trust me?” He groaned, pulling a bottle from his coat and taking a swig, “Sorry that I’m trying to help.”

“How would he even turn this against us?” Nick asked, “Resurrections isn’t something he can do, he’d put Bad in charge of that, and we all know that Bad wouldn’t corrupt someone.”

“It’s possible that they won’t remember anything, at all, and people who’ve forgotten are the easiest to manipulate.” Shlatt sighed.

“We have to help them.” Karl decided.

~~

Darkness, darkness, darkness.

You had finally found your way back to that dark abyss, though now it was filled with strange chanting.

It felt like you were bein dragged across the length of the universe, losing everything of your being along the way.

‘stop! stop stop stop! I want- I want to remember’ you begged the darkness.

The hell you found yourself in seemed to stretch, continuing for infinity, the darkness, called you, begging you to stay, to give up the last of your essence to it.

The chanting grew louder as you tried to scream, the sound lodged in a throat that no longer existed.

All at once you became nothing, and then you felt the weight of a thousand suns crushing you back down into a body.

~~ Your eyes flicked open, to a blinding white world.

“It worked! There awake!” You heard Bad yell.

You started to smile as you heard Alex yell, “Get the fuck away from them Dream, you can’t manipulate anyone else!”

You sat up, starting to look around, but still, you saw nothing but light, “Alex? Wh- It- why can’t I see?”

“They remember!”  you heard Karl rejoice.

“Why can’t I see?” You asked again, raising your hands to your eyes.

“(y/n) what do you mean?” Nick asked.

“I can’t see.” You said desperately, reaching out you felt your boyfriends wrapping there arms around you.

“I think I know how to fix it!” Bad yelled triumphantly.

Everything went black again.

~~

This time, your trip through hell was not as bad, though you seemed not to notice as your existence and identify was striped away again.

~~ Your eyes flicked open, the feeling returned to your body, and slowly you sat up, looking around at the odd group of people gathered around you, “Who are you?”

As soon as the world came out of your mouth a mousy haired man in a colorful sweater burst into tears, the man with the beanie next to him quickly pulling him into a hug.

“I- Who are you?”

“Do you not remember?”  

You shook your head, “Remember what?”

you turned to the pink haired man, “I know you don’t I? I swear- I- I know I know you. Why don’t I remember you?”

A demonic looking man quickly closed a book, “You guys should clear out. a third party might be better for this.”

~~ The man- Bad, had explained basics of things to you, who everyone who’d been in the room before, and the said that you would have to stay at his house in the Badlands for a few days.

The next day was better.

‘holy shit it worked!’ you thought, looking down at your arms, ‘I’m back’

Quietly you got out of the bed, rushing through the room and towards the stairs of Bad and Skeppy’s house, “Guys! Guys it worked! I’m alive again!”

You turned another corner to see you brothers, looking at you shocked, “(y/n)? You remember?”

You grinned, quickly pulling your brother into a hug, “It wasn’t your fault Techno! You didn’t mean to it’s okay!”

“(y/n/n)?”

You turned again, “Karl! Nicky! Alex!”

The next thing you knew you were in a pile on the ground, your boyfriends all hugging you tightly.

~~

They brought you home soon after, and from there you had good days and bad days.

There were days where you remembered it all, days where you found yourself lost and confused in an unknown house, and days where you could on recognize certain things around you.

Still, you were back with Nick and Karl and Alex, and you would make it through, together.

[aerequets]

can you give me some webtoon recommendations? name some of your favorites! :)

i am here to answer folks 😎

all of these webtoons can be found on webtoons.com! I'm not sure about the whole daily pass thing they've got going on (which sucks tbh) but like,,, you could probably find it online illegally. NOT THAT I CONDONE ILLEGAL ACTIVITY HAHAHAHA ᵖˢˢᵗ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ

I'll split these up between completed and in progress :) most are still in progress though

COMPLETED

1) Gourmet Hound (166 chapters)

this is like, my all time favorite webtoon. it follows Lucy and her quest to find all the chefs that left her favorite restaurant, Dimanche! it’s a really heartfelt story and the food illustrations make you really hungry, so make sure you have a snack before you sit down to read it. each character’s name is also food-related, so that’s pretty cool too! and the diversity in this webtoon is AMAZING. it’s the only webtoon i’ve ever read that has a hijabi character in the main cast. the development is done really well and it explores themes of loving and letting go. all in all, it has a bit of everything. i personally love food-related things, and this centers around it, so i was set LOL

(also a bonus is that this webtoon has NOT succumbed to daily pass hell, so you can binge read the whole thing. legally.)

2) Hooky (200 chapters)

if you like stories of witches, this is the one! the summary and beginning chapters are deceptively lighthearted. DO NOT BE FOOLED! the story really develops further on and explores numerous conflicts, a big one being (if i remember correctly) witch vs. nonwitch. if you like to see struggles between two sides, not a good-and-evil but just people-who-want-the-best-for-themselves-and-their-loved-ones type of thing, this is good for that. also, sibling love! the two main characters are Dani and Dorian, and while there is someee romance, i like how this story centers around the siblings first and foremost. ALSO THE ART??? I LOVE HOW THE AUTHOR DRAWS SETTINGS SO MUCH and am unabashedly jealous because i am completely incapable of doing so   just like,,,, even if the story doesn’t pull you in, you can at least stare at each panel for long stretches of time.

(unfortunately succumbed to daily pass, but you can read it on mangaowl or manganelo!)

3) Spirit Fingers (167 chapters)

aww, this one is cute. Amy is 18 and lacking in self confidence (her family definitely doesn’t help). but HEY she joins a wacky art club!! without her parents knowing!! HECK YEAH!! unfortunately it takes more than joining an art club for her to learn to love herself (it is a long journey after all!). i love this webtoon because it explores the problems of multiple people, not just amy: her high achieving brothers, her mother who had to give up her dream, the different members in the art club, Amy’s girl friends. the art is unique and has a cool watercolor-y texture! and the main couple is just adorable, too. if you’re an artist especially, i recommend this because that’s a big theme and you get to see these characters expand their art styles! which is very cool!

(you can read this one fully on 1stkissmanga)

now here’s where the majority of my recs are:

IN PROGRESS (all can be read on webtoon.com)

1) The Makeup Remover (currently 71 chapters)

i look forward to this every tuesday and friday because oh man!!!!!!!!! idk about you guys, but i am thinking about beauty standards A Large Amount of the time, especially when i consume media. and this webtoon is all about beauty standards (specifically in Korea, but still applicable like. everywhere). Main character Yeseul ends up having to partake in this beauty competition and, with her experiences through it, she begins seeing makeup and beauty standards for the huge role they play in society. i said it already but i LOVE LOVE LOVE this webtoon because it really challenges you as a reader to think about your own perspectives. why do we find the things/people beautiful that we do? what shapes our perception? how much of it is marketing, and how much of it shows in our daily lives? what assumptions do you make about people based on how they look? AGHH im sounding like an essay prompt instead of a reviewer but man. if you like webtoons that examine society through a critical lens (gosh i sound like an english teacher), this is the one. 

2) Odd Girl out (currently 261 chapters; on season 2) 

okay, first and foremost: if you’re NOT into long winded drama, this probably isn’t it for you. i will admit im not a fan of long problems that get dragged out, especially in a school setting, but i did keep reading this webtoon and i am glad that i did! the character development here is amazing and ONE CRUCIAL THING is that the whole first season (which is many, many chapters. at least over 100) focuses on the friendship between our main 4 girls. if you don’t wanna wait for a romance storyline (which comes in season 2), then you’ve gotta have the patience of a saint. i loved this though because lots of romance webtoons cast friendships aside or use them to further the romantic plot. platonic relationships are great to read about and this one does it masterfully! main character nari is resilient and emotionally strong, and it’s great to see her ruin her enemies

3) Cursed Princess Club (currently 110 chapters; on break before the final season)

this is another one about beauty and societal expectations, but in a fantasy setting! it’s really funny and the cast of characters is heartwarming. Gwen is a princess, but she doesn’t look like the typical princess. she accidentally stumbles upon the Cursed Princess Club, which is exactly what it sounds like: a club for princesses that have been cursed and are trying to find their self worth despite not being conventional princesses! now that i think about it, this is like a lighthearted mixture of Makeup Remover and Spirit Fingers. although while i do say “lighthearted”, this webtoon has its fair share of mysteries and exploration of deeper topics. but its funny throughout

4) Brass & Sass (currently 83 chapters)

ahh this one is really cute and the art is cute, too! i also like how this has a diverse cast. high schooler Camilla kinda sucks at band, but dangit if she’s not passionate. Victor is some type of musical prodigy but he’s a brass-hole (hahaha get it. no that’s not original i ripped it from the summary). now i KNOW I KNOW, the whole “perky girl and asshole guy” is so overplayed BUT DON’T FRET! this isn’t the type of story where the girl “fixes” the guy, or where the guy is an asshole to everyone except the girl. believe me, the character development and relationship development in this story is SPLENDID. there’s no real antagonist. it’s just a bunch of high schoolers trying their best to make themselves and everyone else happy, and that’s hard! the story is carried more by the characters than by the plot, but it works well in this case since the characters are strong and each one has a presence. 

5) Surviving Romance (currently 10 chapters)

this one is relatively new compared to my other recs but it’s by the author of the Makeup Remover so yaknow i had to hop on it. BUT IT IS VERY DIFFERENT! first off, it’s a horror, so keep that in mind. the best way i can describe it is a mixture of the standard “girl falls into a story” genre, Groundhog Day, and zombies. Yeah. Bascially, Chaerin is our main girl and she’s in a romance story that’s she’s read a bajillion times, so she knows the day has come for her male lead to confess his love! except he doesn’t! because he becomes a zombie instead! hahaha well that sucks! it’s only got 10 chapters but i am very into it, and it seems to be taking an emphasis on platonic relationships, so i am very closely watching 👁👁

6) The Witch and the Bull (currently 60 chapters) 

another witch story! and the art is GORGEOUS. more witch + nonwitch conflict, too! our main dude, Tan, is the royal advisor and he’s hella bigoted against witches. our main girl, Aro, happens to be a witch. and Tan needs her help to make him into a human again (because he got turned into a bull. that is worth mentioning). this is a very barebones summary and there’s a lot more that goes on, but that’s the general gist of the beginning!

ANYWAYS. this got very long, predictably, and i rambled for each title, predictably. i’ve got more that i’m reading, but i really like these 9! i also made comments on the art for a lot of them, which might not matter to some people, but i feel like my art was very impacted by each webtoon i read. if you’re an artist i recommend finding a webtoon you like and studying the art; try implementing parts you like into your own style! 

anyways, i am FINALLY done talking. bye yall 

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

You’ll Have To Come and Find Me - fic

Characters: Tim Drake, Damian Wayne Summary: Damian runs into someone on his way to the League of Lazarus’ tournament. The last person he wanted to see. The last person who should have been looking for him. A/N: Just a thought in my brain that wouldn’t quit. Dialogue heavy. Shittily written idk. ‘Polarize’ by TwentyOne Pilots is such a Damian song to me, and was in my head while writing this, so inspired the title. Might continue this idea a little bit as the Robin series continues, who knows.

~~

He was counting the money from his fight with King Snake as he walked into the café. That’s why he didn’t notice. That’s why he didn’t see.

That’s what he told himself.

But after he walked in the door, he found himself freezing as he looked up.

No.

He’d been so careful, so deliberate. He didn’t leave any traces. He knew he didn’t. There was no way they could find him.

And of course, he couldn’t even back out now. Couldn’t sneak back out of the restaurant, back into the darkness. Because Timothy Drake was already lowering his cup of tea and raising his head to look at him.

They stared at each other for a second. Two. Three. Four. Five. Faces blank, mouths shut.

Then Tim smiled, turned towards the café’s counter and waved. The barista nodded and started on a drink.

Nope. No turning back now.

“How did you find me?” Damian demanded as he stomped forward. Tim motioned to the empty, waiting, chair across from him. A glass of water was already there, as was an empty plate.

Tim shrugged. “Wasn’t that hard.”

“Liar.” Damian spat. “I covered my tracks. I made sure-”

“You made sure Bruce couldn’t find you.” Tim countered, pulling his napkin onto his lap. “And I am not Bruce.”

“…Oracle is smarter than you.” Damian tried.

“Absolutely.” Tim took another sip of his tea. “But I know you better.”

“You don’t know me at all.” Damian crossed his arms. He nodded a thanks to the waiter as he brought Damian’s drink, and a basket of bread. It was tea, like Tim’s, and he could see two sugar cubes dissolving in the bottom.

…His preferred preparation.

He never told Tim how he liked his tea. He never told Tim he liked tea at all.

He glanced up to the elder. Tim smiled behind his own cup and raised his eyebrows. See?

Damian huffed, taking the drink. “What do you want?”

“To find you. Duh.”

“To what, mock me? Remind me of my failures? Rub it in my face that once again you prove you’re better than me?” Damian listed. But as he spoke, Tim’s amused face fell back into stoic, blank.

“No. I wouldn’t do that in the first place. Not…” He lowered his cup once more, stared into the liquid. “Not now, anyway.”

Damian narrowed his eyes, gaze bouncing around Tim’s face, trying to read it. Trying to figure his predecessor out.

“Really?” Damian drawled in disbelief. “So, you’re not here to gloat about how Father gave you Robin back?”

Damian was surprised to see Tim’s face darken, just a little. “I didn’t want it back. He forced it on me in a weird grief-fueled crusade after you disappeared.” Tim glanced up. “A lot’s happened since you left.”

“I’ve been back since I renounced Robin. All this tracking me and you didn’t know that?”

“No, I mean, even since then.” Tim sighed. “…Did you know Dick had regained his memories before you helped save him and the family?”

Damian pursed his lips, stared at the basket of bread. “…No.”

“…How are you feeling about that?” Tim asked softly.

“I don’t need your pathetic brand of therapy, Drake.” Damian snapped.

“I’m not trying to play therapist, I’m just trying to make sure my little brother is okay.” Tim shot back just as harshly. “Especially since he’s running off to some secret tournament that he could die in.”

Tim’s mouth clamped shut then, and Damian watched him. “…How did you know about that?”

“That’s not important, here, okay, I just-”

“It is to me.” Damian countered. “Tell me or I’m leaving.”

Tim glowered back at him. “I’ll follow you.”

“Not if I break your leg.”

“Why do you…!” Tim cut himself off in a sigh, slumped back in his chair. “I got word Talia was in town, followed her tracks. Saw the security footage from her apartment when you went and met her. Heard about that League of Lazarus thing and looked into it.”

“How did you look into it?” Damian asked. “Even I didn’t know about it. And if Mother wasn’t forthcoming with me, I can’t see her being a source of information for you.”

Now it was Tim’s turn to cross his arms and look away.

Damian studied him for a moment, then let his eyes go wide. “…You didn’t.”

“Look, I said it didn’t matter-”

“You did not contact Grandfather for information.” Damian practically begged. “Drake!”

“You know as well as I do he’ll give me anything I want if I’m the one to reach out to him.” Tim reassured quickly. “And sorry if my brother’s safety is a good reason for me to contact an enemy!”

Damian glared at him for a moment before looking at the clean white plate. “…Stop calling me your brother.”

“Oh, for god’s sake, Damian-”

“Because after what I’ve done, I don’t deserve the title.”

Tim paused then, stared right back. Sighed and leaned forward to grab his tea again.

“What happened wasn’t your fault.” Tim whispered. “Definitely not Dick, not Alfred…especially not Alfred…I know you think it is, and trust me, I get that. I felt the same back when my dad died. Bruce.” A moment. “…You.”

Damian glanced up at him.

“I get that you think it was. Because you were there, because you’re supposed to be a hero, that’s what the world thinks you are, but…It’s not, Damian. It never was. You’re just a kid. A kid in a shitty, traumatic situation.” Tim hesitated, and Damian watched as he swallowed a lump in his throat. “And we just want you to come home.”

“Why?” Damian asked quietly. “I’ll do nothing but hurt all of you.”

“Can I make a counterpoint to that?” Tim asked. “What do you think you’re doing to us now? Disappearing? We don’t know how you are, or if you’re even alive. Don’t you think that’s hurting us too?”

“…It shouldn’t.”

“Well. It does.” Tim sniffed. “That’s why I’m here. That’s part of why Babs became Oracle again. That’s why Dick wants to use the fortune Alfred left him to find you.”

“Forget about me.” Damian shook his head. “You’ll all be better off. Grayson especially.”

“A matter of personal opinion. An opinion I highly disagree with.” Tim shrugged. “And just because Dick, arguably, loves you the most, therefore is the most heartbroken with you not there, doesn’t mean he’ll be better off if you just…vanish from his life like you weren’t ever there in the first place.”

“He thrived without any memories of me as the cab driver, so we have proof that he would be.” Damian explained. “Besides. Time heals all wounds. Or whatever. You’ll all forget about me if you give yourself the chance to.”

“And I think you dying is proof that we won’t, and can’t.” Tim leaned forward more, reaching for Damian’s hand. Damian allowed him to take it. “Which is why I’m here.”

“I’m not going back to Gotham, Drake. I can’t.” Damian murmured, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “I’m not…I can’t be there. Right now.”

“I know. I know I said we want you home, but I never said I was taking you back. I told you I’m out here to find you.”

“Well. Congratulations.” Damian said bitterly. “You did.”

Tim smiled. “Great.” He squeezed Damian’s hand and released it. “So, where’s this island? For the tournament?”

Damian furrowed his brows. “What?”

“I’m not taking you home. I promise.” Tim let his grin widen, become just a little too shit-eating. “But that doesn’t mean I’m leaving you.”

“…You’re not serious.”

“My goal was to find you. And not lose you again. The only way to do that is to not leave you, in my deductions.” Tim winked. “Besides, you were right – this Lazarus Tournament sounds interesting. And concerning. You’re gonna need backup. More than the folks we know who are gonna be there already, anyway.”

“…How do you know who’s in the tournament?” Damian asked slowly. Tim just pursed his lips, blinked, and grinned. Damian sighed. “After this tournament, I’m making sure my grandfather never contacts you again.”

“Hey, sometimes it’s nice having a super-villain obsessed with you.” Tim shrugged. “Helped me get you back, after all.”

“All the more reason I’ll have to kill him.”

Tim laughed at that, took a piece of bread for himself. “…You okay with me tagging along?”

Damian sipped his tea. “Not in the slightest.”

“Good.” Tim glanced at his watch. “About an hour until your boat arrives. That’s enough time for you to rest a little while we figure out an outline of a plan to take out this League of Lazarus.”

At that, Tim turned, digging in the backpack he had hanging off his chair. Damian watched him as he pulled out papers and notebooks, dropping them on the table between them.

And he didn’t want it. Didn’t deserve it. His family deserved better. Drake deserved better. Drake had better things to do than chase him, a failure, across the world, and hardly for either of their own sakes. All for the sake of their family. Because Tim loved them. Because Damian loved them. Because Tim loved Damian too.

“…Drake?” Damian whispered. Tim glanced up. “…Thank you for finding me.”

Tim blinked, and let his face drop into a smile. “Any time, little brother.”

[thora-jane]

Twin-Way Mirror (pt vi)

(a/n): Hey everyone. My mental health's getting a little bit better. These past few weeks I've had some depression/anxiety episodes but I think I might be on the better end of it now? I will say that the stories I post may be more spread out over time (I had a lot of this already written before I made the tumblr account, and I haven't had the time/energy to write more of the story. So like...idk thank you for your patience and understanding? anyway, I hope you enjoy this :)

Summary: Thanks to the Weasleys, you start to recover from the attack at the world cup

Word Count: 2,229

Warnings: mentions of blood and injuries, reader has a bit of a ptsd attack, also things get a little bit spicy but nothing nsfw.

TAGS!: @aliiiyyaaah @superblyspeedydragon @bamboozledflamplant

***

Someone was moving you. Everything was spinning. Mudblood. Mood. Blood. Mud and blood filled your mouth, swirling with bile and spit. Spit. Something smelled terrible, you smelled terrible. Reeking.

You felt a hand on your cheek. The pain stabbed across your face like a knife.

You bolted upright.

And screamed.

“Hey, hey hey hey it’s alright,” you heard George’s (or was it Fred’s?) voice through your ragged and panicked breaths, his hand placed gently on your back, “(y/n), we’re safe now, we’ve made it home.”

You finally looked around, you were on the couch in the burrow’s living room.

“Home?” You asked. You looked up, George was rubbing your back and Fred was sitting on the arm of the seat, eyes flitting back and forth between looking at you and down at his hands with what appeared to be shame. You looked back at the rest of the room, where the others had managed to find room standing and watching you, Harry and Ron stone-faced, Ginny with her jaw clenched, Hermione appeared to be on the brink of tears, Mr. Weasley looked awfully serious, and Mrs. Weasely was holding her muddied and bloodied hand to her chest, a damp rag in the hand at her side and fear on her face.

You felt your face gingerly, most of the caked on mud and blood had been smudged off, except for the grime around the large bruised and scarred lump on your face.

“Yeah, home,” George nodded again with a smile, “How are you feeling?”

You held your head in your hands, “Who was that?” You felt your eyes well up as you sat up more and looked down at the rest of your body, you were still covered in mud, and there appeared to be a boot print right in the middle of your shirt.

“Death Eaters,” Harry piped up from the back, “Voldemort’s followers. They stormed the campgrounds and-” He stopped, looking at you, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have…” His voice trailed off, and it took you a second to realize you were crying, the salty tears stinging the wound on your face.

“Oh it’s alright Harry,” you interrupted yourself with a shaky breath, “I don’t mind, keep talking-”

But Mrs. Weasley interrupted you, “Alright everyone, I think it’s best we give her some space. I’ll come back in a bit to help clean you up more, sweetie. Get some rest.”

The others filed out of the room quietly, but Fred and Geroge stayed beside you in silence, after a moment you sighed and bit back a smile. “I don’t suppose I look any better than either of you now, eh?” You chuckled, but it came out more like a twisted sob. George’s arm wrapped around your shoulder as he pulled you into a gentle sideways hug, “I wouldn’t say that. Why, look at Freddy over there, you could hardly believe we shared the same womb! He’s hideous!” He chuckled softly, squeezing your shoulder. You let out a wince at the pressure and he frowned, turning to you, “you’re in pretty bad shape, (y/n), but I doubt it will last. Is there anything we could do to help?

You looked back down at your crusted and soiled shirt, “A change of clothes would be helpful. And cleaning up doesn’t sound like the worst idea either.” you smiled, or at least offered what you could manage of a smile without hurting your face, “I’ll go get my clothes-” You started trying to get off the couch with a long and pained groan. Everything hurt, your stomach, your legs, your hand. And Merlin, you could barely move your wrist without tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

George seemed to catch on, and he carefully eased you back onto the couch, “I’ll go get you a change of clothes. Stay here, alright?” he stroked the back of your head for a moment before getting up and leaving.

You and Fred sat in silence for a moment before nuding him with your foot, “Oi, I don’t think I’ve seen you this quiet since...well, I can’t remember.”

“(y/n)...I’m so sorry this happened.” He said, looking up at you hesitantly.

“Hey, it’s alright. We’re both here now, yeah?” you shifted in your spot on the couch, leaning forward as you tried to maintain eye contact, but he only looked away again.

“No, no (y/n) it’s not alright. I shouldn’t have let you out of my reach. I shouldn’t have let the crowd separate us, I should have forced my way back sooner-” his voice was dead serious, something that you hadn’t thought was possible before now.

“I don’t want you blaming yourself for this,” your voice was a little uneasy, you could feel it as you tried to keep your breathing steady, “Because I’m fine now. We’re home, you heard your brother-”

“No, but (y/n) you’re not fine!” he snapped, standing up and gesturing to your body in one big sweep of his arm, “They were going to kill you! And whose fault would that have been? It wouldn’t have been yours I can tell you that!”

“Freddie,” George’s voice was stern as he returned to the room, a change of clothes in hand, “Go get some things to clean up. What’s done is done and we can only start moving forward. I don’t think either of you are in a state to start pointing fingers,” He walked towards you on the couch as Fred went off to the kitchen, his hands balled into fists.

George knelt down beside you, brushing the hair from your forehead and dabbing at your lingering tears with the edge of his sleeve. “How are you feeling?” he asked, holding his hand under your chin carefully and examining your face.

“A bit banged up, surprisingly,” you quipped. You paused, looking down at the clothes in his hand, “So...should I change?” You looked back up at him, a bit embarrassed by your current lack of mobility.

“Oh! Yeah,” he agreed with a bit of a start, “You can’t quite be up and about right now, huh?” He glanced around the room before snatching the blanket off the back of the couch and holding it up in front of him as a curtain between you two, “I swear on Fred’s life I’m not going to move this until you say you’re done, and I will scream bloody murder if anyone walks in,” He delcared in what you assumed was a mock-stoic voice from the other side of the blanket.

You began to peel off your muddied pants and slide your sore legs into the new pair. It wasn’t until after you had them on that you realized how this unfamiliar stripey pair fit quite loose, “These aren’t mine?” you mumbled to yourself, and from the other side of the blanket you could hear George clear his throat.

“I uh...couldn’t figure out how to open your trunk so I..grabbed a pair of my pajamas. I promise they’re clean. I can get you yours later it was just...short notice and I didn’t want to be a bother-”

“It’s alright,” you assured him as you started to lift your shirt over your head, “At least they're clean- OW!” you felt a screaming pain stab it’s way through your wrist after you had managed to get one arm out of your sleeve.

“Are you ok?” His voice was nervous, and you saw the blanket shift beside your head-

“Oi!” You almost shouted, “Watch the blanket!”

“Sorry! Sorry,” you heard him mumble as the blanket lifted up a little bit, “I guess we’ll call it even from this morning.”

You had managed to carefully wrangle your way out of your shirt and pull one of the sleeves of George’s shirt before it dawned on you, “Oh Merlin, did you see me? Just now?” Your stomach twisted as you shrugged on the second sleeve and looked at the open front of the shirt, “Damn buttons.”

“If it’s any comfort, I only saw your shoulder. And I looked away as soon as I saw-” He stammered out nervously, as you gave the buttons down your front a calculated stare.

“Just...never bring this up again, yeah?” You muttered mostly to yourself before your first attempt at buttoning up your shirt. But your try was unsuccessful, pain twisting the muscles and bone in your wrist as your right hand went to try and help the button through the hole. You let out a faint gasp of pain, and from the other side of the blanket you heard George shift his stance awkwardly.

“Do you need any help?” he piped up from his side.

You paused, sighing as you carefully moved the shirt to cover your front without buttoning it, “If I must. But if you try to pull something then so help me Godric the second I get my wand back you’re dead.” He let the blanket fall to the floor and his hands flew up to his face, squinting through his fingers. It was clear he was trying to lighten the mood as he perched himself on the edge of the couch. You chuckled at his efforts and reached for one of his hands with your good one, placing his fingertips on the buttons of his shirt, “You don’t have to do it with your eyes closed, dimwit.”

George smirked, opening his eyes slightly and making it clear he was staring directly at the buttons he was fastening, “Y’know, I don’t usually do this for folks,” he smiled looking back up at you with a dramatic wink. His eyes stayed latched to yours as he worked his way up the trail of buttons, making a point to not stare at your chest.

“Oh? This isn’t a regular occurrence between you and your roommates? You don’t sit in a circle helping each other tie your ties each morning? You don’t fix Fred’s hair and make sure Lee’s robes are nice and straight?”

George laughed, “Keeping Lee’s robes straight is Fred’s job.”

“Well someone ought to tell him he’s not doing a very good job of it, Lee’s robes wouldn’t stay smooth unless he used a charm,” you sighed, a weak smile lingering on your face.

“Oh! That reminds me,” George reached into his pocket and pulled out your wand, “managed to get it out without a scratch!” He tucked it into your messed-up hair and smiled, “Good as new!” His hand lingered on the side of your face, carefully touching the area around the swollen and bruised gash for just a moment, “You don’t look that bad, really. A little roughed up but give it some soap, water, magic, and time, you’ll be back to your wonderfully-faced self,” his voice was encouraging, but your thoughts had drifted off to elsewhere.

“Oh my god, you took on a Death Eater.” You blurted out, eyes widening, “Are you ok? Did he get you at all? Are you alright?” Your hand reached for his face, there was a scratch just below his cheek bone but other than that and a few smudges of mud he appeared fine,

“I’m alright, (y/n), really,” he patted your hand.

“Oi, I got you out of there too, y’know.” Fred interrupted from the doorway, “Where’s the worry for me?”

“Oh my god, Fred!” Your voice was startled as you scrambled off the couch and stumbled across the floor over to him. He had just barely managed to set down the bowl of water and sponge before you practically collapsed in his arms, “are you alright? What on earth were you two thinking? Running into danger like that? You could have gotten yourselves killed!” You winced at the pain pulsing through your body, but you only hugged Fred tighter. After a second you let out a muffled sob into his chest and you could feel his arms wrap around you, patting your back.

“But it’s alright,” you heard him whisper, “You said it yourself, we’re home,” He placed a kiss on the top of your head, and you could feel another body hug you from behind.

“We’re here, (y/n). Now c’mon, it’s late and you should get some sleep,” You felt George lean down and kiss your cheek before helping you shuffle back to the couch and wipe the last bit of mud from your face.

***

You woke up the next morning feeling sore, but minimal agony in comparison to the night before. As you opened your eyes, you realized you were face-to-chest with one of the twins. You figured the two of you had slept on the couch the night before. As you poked your head out from behind his shoulder, you saw the other twin asleep in the chair. Neither of the boys had changed their clothes from yesterday, and you looked down to see the large gold “G” against a green sweater, with its sleeves wrapped around your waist, pulling you close.

“Mmm, (y/n), are you up?” George murmured, his eyes not opening.

You smiled softly at his warm embrace, “No George, go back to sleep,” you whispered, laying down again with your head against his shoulder.

“Of course, sweetheart,” he nodded, barely awake as he pulled you closer and nuzzled his face into your hair with a sleepy sigh.