#hope you don't mind my shitty little in-character response !!

[siilvan]

bloodsport – IV

prologue | one | two | three | next

characters: vladimir makarov

summary: your first time back in the field is a whirlwind of emotions, especially after being forced to rely on yet another enemy. new information is revealed, and you realize that a drastic action may be the only way to fix this mess.

genre: angst, slowburn, enemies to ?, fem!reader (callsign: petra)

warnings: semi-proofread, cursing, canon-typical violence, descriptions of blood/injuries, poorly written spec-ops, allusions to trauma and stress, reader has a bit of a breakdown, graves lol

word count: 6k

note: giving a quick PSA here— please be mindful about what y'all write. i know this fic is about a very controversial and problematic character, but i try to be mindful about how i portray him and his actions. don't romanticize things that should not be romanticized, and be respectful to people. COD as a whole is problematic, but that doesn't mean we need to be a shitty community. support real victims, don't spread hate. easy peasy.

also, yes, i changed my formatting. the little text is too hard to read without my glasses, so... yeah. hope it's not ugly now :)

you spend the rest of the night tossing and turning, trying but failing to will yourself to fall asleep. soap texts you shortly before the sun comes up - a picture of himself and the rest of the team, posing for the camera. they're covered in dirt and ash, exhaustion apparent in their eyes, but the image is enough to make you crack a smile.

you give them a few hours, pulling yourself out of bed after sunrise and occupying yourself with mundane tasks around the house, before picking up the phone and calling price.

"hey, captain. sorry for calling so early." you chuckle, leaning against the arm of the couch.

"don't worry about it," price clears his throat, hoarse from fatigue, and you wonder for a second if he was asleep before you called. "was just finishing some paperwork. what d'you need?"

a low sigh escapes from you. "i know it's only been a day, but... can i come back? i really want to get back to work."

you can hear papers shuffling from his end. "i know you want to work, but we just can't take the risk—"

"there isn't going to be any risk," you assert, raising your voice slightly and interrupting him. you pause and wet your lips, speaking in a softer tone again. "please, captain, i know i can handle it. i just want to get back to normal already."

the line is quiet for a long moment, with price silently deliberating over your request. you shift nervously, gripping the phone tighter as you wait impatiently for a response.

finally, after you shift for the umpteenth time, he exhales deeply.

"i'll see if i can convince laswell, okay?" he concedes. you can hear his chair creaking as he leans back - you're assuming, at least. "pack your bags. i'll send a transport helicopter in an hour."

⋆⋆⋆

that's how you ended up at base again, with the team welcoming you back with open arms. laswell initially rejected the idea, stating the same concerns as before, but price managed to sway her after some discussion.

so, now you're in a meeting room, gathered around a table with lists, blueprints, names, pictures— any and all of the intel that the task force has gotten their hands on, scattered across the surface. you blink when price raps his knuckles against the tabletop, drawing your attention.

it's laswell who talks, shooting a glance around the table to address the group. "as you're all aware, shadow company has been a target of the konni group in recent times," she starts, sending you a cursory look, asking you for confirmation. you nod, and she continues. "not only have they been fighting the group head-on in al-mazrah, but there's been several incidents with undercover konni operatives in their ranks."

"good, let 'em fuckin' deal with it." soap remarks, earning noises of agreement from gaz, ghost, and yourself. price and laswell aren't as entertained by it.

"general shepherd, commander graves, and their men betrayed us." laswell pauses before letting out a heavy sigh. "i know none of you were happy about the ceasefire, and i know that you were furious when graves resurfaced. but, besides farah's forces, shadow company is our strongest ally."

"—and the only one capable of making any strong moves without risking an all-out war." price adds, shaking his head. everyone's displeased with the situation, that much is obvious.

"where are you goin' with this?" ghost asks. a tense silence fills the room for a long moment, making you shift awkwardly.

laswell motions towards the door on the far side of the room with her head. you cast your gaze in the same direction, watching as the door is pushed open.

as if on cue, the very man that should've been buried in flames in las almas walks into the room. the shadow himself. philip graves.

"oh, fuck off." soap growls at the man, looking ready to lunge at him from across the table. ghost steps forward and, if you didn't know any better, you'd think he was reaching for his sidearm. gaz and price are eerily quiet while glaring daggers at him, and you immediately feel the blood rush to your ears as every nerve commands you to shoot him yourself.

"i know this isn't ideal," laswell attempts to placate all of you, though the cold stare she regards him with betrays her calm demeanor. "but, for now, we're allies. we have a bigger threat to worry about."

"yeah, those konni guys are, uh..." graves perks up, languidly sauntering up to the table. he purses his lips for a second, thinking, before clicking his tongue. "real troublesome. i've lost a lot of good men thanks to them."

"good." ghost mutters, straightening himself next to soap.

price cuts through the tension with a wave of his hand. "alright, none of us want this, but we've got no other options." he grumbles. "konni's moving towards urzikstan. if we want to stop 'em, then we need to cooperate."

you eye graves from your peripherals, recalling the information that makarov gave you a couple weeks ago. graves isn't in on shepherd's plan, but he's likely the only person who knows the general's whereabouts. you need to say something while you still can. how will he take the news, though? he's betrayed you before, he'll do it again if it benefits him.

"petra, you listening?" laswell's voice abruptly interrupts your thoughts. you divert your attention back to her and notice that everyone's focus is on you.

"i have something i need to say," you blurt out. you need to bring up the general before he potentially ropes graves in.

you receive a collection of interested stares, urging you to go on.

"when i was captured, i managed to get some information," you drop your gaze, narrowing your eyes at the documents laid out. "we're not just fighting konni and al-qatala. some of the forces occupying al-mazrah are under shepherd's command."

the silence that falls over the room is almost deafening. the group balks at you with shock and confusion written on their expressions, until graves huffs out a laugh.

"general shepherd's 'forces' are my men. i can assure you, petra, that none of my shadows are workin' with konni." he says with a lopsided smile, confident as ever.

you turn to face graves fully, grimacing. "i'm not talking about your shadows. shepherd has another group under his command."

"what group?" price asks.

"cia operatives. ex-soldiers, specifically." you turn back, eyes flitting between price and laswell. "he's sending men undercover. the unmarked mercenaries that we keep encountering? that's them."

laswell shakes her head and crosses her arms over her chest. "where did you get this information?"

you freeze. your mouth opens to say makarov's name, but for some reason, you hesitate. with a deep inhale, you blink away the odd feeling and force the words past your lips.

"makarov. i'm not sure why, but he told me about it."

yet another unbearable tension befalls the group; you're getting close to ripping your hair out over it. as if reading your thoughts, gaz speaks up.

"you know about this?" he says, directed at graves. he's tight-lipped, glowering at him.

graves doesn't respond, letting the question hang in the air. he looks just as surprised as the rest of you - makarov was telling the truth, then. shadow company isn't in on the plan. shepherd has effectively betrayed his strongest ally, to your knowledge.

"i'm sure there's an explanation," graves utters, chuckling to himself. "war's a dirty business. there's good reason to send men undercover."

"he's got part of the special activities division in his pocket." laswell says.

"isn't that where you pulled alex from?" price hums, earning a nod in reply. it's a bad situation, to say the least.

you regain everyone's attention and continue. "i don't know the full plan, but makarov suspected that shepherd's doing this to put himself back on top. start a war, get himself marked as a hero, reap the rewards."

graves raises a brow at you, amusement written on his face. "and, we should trust the judgement of a terrorist?" he says while searching the room for support.

price keeps his gaze on you, though the distant look in his eye tells you that his mind is elsewhere. "i'd trust this one's judgement." he mutters, jaw clenching.

"well, there's no point in standin' around, is there?" graves seems to bounce back quickly, shrugging off the news. "we've got a job to do and a terrorist to catch. let's focus on that."

"i'll contact farah and see if alex knows anything about the men under shepherd's command." laswell says as you all break away from the table and start to file out of the room.

"keep us updated," price nods to her before turning to the rest of you. "wheels up in thirty. we'll debrief on the way."

you breathe out a relieved sigh once everyone breaks off, heading off to finish any last minute preparations before takeoff. you linger in the corridor, running a hand down your face and groaning into the palm of your hand. of course, you have no choice but to work with an enemy whilst relying on intel from yet another. at least you can be open with your team about this one.

shepherd and makarov are your targets. graves comes after. take down all three, and your headaches are gone. no more doubting yourself, no more questions, no more nights spent looking at lists of crimes that make you feel sick. you can resume your not-so-peaceful life with the rest of the task force and celebrate the world being a somewhat safer place.

your phone buzzes in your pocket, distracting you from your pondering and pulling you back to the present. you frown at the name on the caller id.

it's a single letter: 'v.'

after your conversation - if you can even call it that - with makarov last night, you saved his number. putting his name in your phone is basically shooting yourself in the foot, so you saved it under a name that gives you deniability in the event someone sees it.

you duck into an empty rec room nearby and accept the call, keeping an eye on the door as you lift the phone to your ear.

"you actually picked up the phone this time." makarov remarks upon you answering. your frown deepens, brows furrowing.

"if you don't have anything important to say, i'm hanging up."

he chuckles, far too casual for your liking. "i have an update. something that i'm sure you'll be interested in."

you shift, leaning against the back of one of the couches. "what is it?"

"in case you're planning to return to al-mazrah, just know that shepherd's men have been given strict orders to target and eliminate members of the one-four-one."

a chill creeps up the back of your spine. it's an unsurprising order, but you still rack your brain as to why he gave it. does shepherd somehow know that you know about his plans? it shouldn't be possible— until the meeting that finished just minutes ago, the only people privy to the knowledge were makarov and yourself.

of course, shepherd's allies are aware of it, but the only ally of his that you've contacted is graves. you doubt that he's talked to the general in the short amount of time since, which eliminates graves as a possibility just as quickly as you suspected him.

there has to be another source. someone feeding him information, keeping the one-four-one under watch.

"shepherd's got a mole in our group." you reply, pinching the bridge of your nose. "fucking hell. he knows that we're onto him."

"'we,' lieutenant?" he comments with an amused lilt in his tone.

"my team, asshole. he's got men undercover in your group and in my squad. he's watching all of his enemies."

makarov hums, voice dropping a little. "you have a keen eye, petra. have you asked the shadow about shepherd's whereabouts, yet?" he asks, brushing past your frustration.

"haven't had the chance," you mutter. "based on his reaction to the news, i doubt he'll give it away, though. we might have to get the location ourselves."

he exhales, audible through the phone. "it would be more convenient if you could convince him to tell you."

you roll your eyes. "yeah, of course it would. just don't expect any miracles. aren't you the one with all the mysterious ways of gathering information, anyway?" you grumble sarcastically and move away from the couch, starting to pace around the room while keeping your gaze on the door.

"i can get his location if necessary, but that would eliminate your usefulness in this operation, wouldn't it?"

he's right, and you hate him for it. "you still need me to kill him." you counter bluntly.

"i can do that, too. your team wants revenge for his betrayal. this is me being charitable - don't disappoint."

makarov ends the call before you have the chance to argue, leaving you to huff to yourself in the empty room. a moment later, a head pokes around the doorway, startling you and nearly making you drop your phone when you jump.

gaz is regarding you with a sly grin as he fully reveals himself and steps into the room. your palms immediately moisten with sweat as worry floods your mind - how much did he just hear?

"so, who you talkin' to?" gaz cocks his head to the side, teasing. he's relaxed, standing in front of you with his hands shoved in his pockets.

you pocket your phone and flash a calm smile. "that depends. you have any guesses?"

he chuckles, lifting one of his hands to playfully stroke at his chin as he thinks. "let's see... i know you weren't home for long, but—" his grin morphs into a lopsided smirk as he eyes you suspiciously. "y'got a boyfriend?"

dear god, no.

you resist the urge to gag at the thought and shake your head. "nope, it's just a... friend of mine."

gaz leans forward, an inquisitive 'ah' tumbling from his lips. "a friend, eh? they got a name?" he asks.

"he, uh... just goes by 'v.'"

"'v?' like the letter?"

you answer with an affirmative "mhm," patting gaz on the shoulder as you brush past him. "it's a nickname i gave him. don't worry about it."

gaz groans in exasperation as you stroll towards the door, trying to ignore the way your heart races. lying is a normal part of the job, but lying to your team? generally not recommended.

"most 'just friends' don't have exclusive nicknames, you know!" gaz calls out from behind as you round the corner and start down the hall, leaving him alone.

a sick part of you finds the sentiment - makarov, being anything more than an enemy - entertaining, but your better judgement steers you back on track. you've got a mission to prepare for, and the likelihood of something going wrong is as high as ever. you need to focus on the mission and getting graves to give up shepherd.

⋆⋆⋆

shadow company's gunship is a familiar sight as you climb aboard, slipping past the groups of shadows and finding your teammates gathered around what you can only describe as the command center. graves is standing close by, though the tension is palpable as you approach.

after the aircraft lifts off is when graves talks, addressing the soldiers lining the seats of the craft.

"alright, now i know we've had our problems in the past," he starts, briefly acknowledging your group before turning back to his men. "however, none of that matters right now. the one-four-one is our ally on this mission; treat 'em like your own. copy that, shadows?"

johnny snorts from next to you. "where have we heard this before?" he mumbles.

there's a resounding "yep-yep" from his men, accompanied by several nods and looks in your direction. graves pats one of the soldiers on the shoulder and looks to price.

"think you can lay out the rest, captain."

price starts down the middle row, his voice booming even over the sounds of people checking their weapons, gear, and anxiously shifting in their seats. he moves slowly, practically stalking down the length of the gunship.

"the mission is simple: konni and al-qatala have set up bases across the city. they're using gas, heavy artillery, and stolen weapons to protect themselves." price stops for a moment and lets his gaze drag over the soldiers staring back at him. "i don't think i need to remind you shadows of what konni's done to your brothers in arms. we're going to break off into strike teams - eight men - and destroy these bases. alpha team will take the nerve center in the heart of the city. you already know your assignments."

graves speaks again once price goes quiet. "the commanders are not likely going to be in any of these field bases. but, if they are, then each and every single one of you has execute authority." he announces. "first man to bag an HVT gets a reward." he adds with a smirk, earning light laughter from several of his men.

when the speeches conclude, you settle back in your seat.

alpha team includes yourself, price, graves, and five of the shadows that graves handpicked. ghost, soap, and gaz are leading the bravo team, charged with the largest and best-guarded of the field bases. the commanding chain within shadow company are leading the other groups tasked with the bases scattered around the city.

you fish your phone out of one of your vest pockets when it buzzes, reading the notification on the screen.

there's an agent in your group 11:06 am

not a shadow. special forces. 11:06 am

you frown, angling the screen back and quickly scanning the group. everyone seems to be engrossed in conversation, giving you a chance to respond.

do you have a name? 11:07 am

not yet. he's a rookie. 11:07 am

he's stationed at the base you're staying at 11:07 am

check the files. should have transferred recently. 11:08 am

thank you. 11:08 am

don't mention it. 11:09 am

you're quick to tuck your phone away again, jolting when gaz suddenly addresses you.

"texting your boyfriend, eh?" he laughs, catching everyone's attention.

soap snorts and turns to you. "since when did you start dating?"

you wave them off, sitting up again as all eyes fall on you - even ghost, who is usually horribly uninterested in gossip.

"what are you two, schoolchildren?" you ask, earning playful noises of offense. "he's just a friend. not even a close one."

you're getting yourself caught up in a lie. a shitty one, at that. all it's doing is making people more interested in who you're talking to. at this rate, you'll get caught by the end of the day.

"bullshit— no one in this job talks to a person this much if they're not special." gaz counters, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

price chuckles. "c'mon, gaz. come off it," he lightly scolds the sergeant before looking at you. "just make sure he treats you nice, yeah?" he adds, both teasing and sincere at the same time.

"he's not my— yeah, okay. i'll remember that." you concede, slumping back in your seat.

the topic is dropped not long after, leaving you to relax as people talk around you. after a couple minutes, you can feel your eyelids start to droop, reminding you of how restless last night was. the trip's going to take a while, you might as well get some sleep while you still can.

⋆⋆⋆

everything is so hot. the sun, the ground, your clothes, the air— you.

you don't have any protective gear on, your sidearm secured in your loose grip as you stumble through the ruins where a city once stood.

that's right, you think. the city was destroyed in all the fighting. reduced to nothing more than rubble. you remember when there used to be buildings here; half-toppled and abandoned, but they stood as evidence of life nonetheless.

you falter, landing on your knee and hissing as it hits the solid ground below you. your vision starts to blur as your eyes water, forcing you to rub at them with your free hand in a desperate attempt to clear them.

when you blink rapidly, trying to force back the disorientation and bleariness, you notice a figure directly ahead of you.

an ally. a friend. someone that can help.

you force yourself to your feet and stagger towards them, sucking in a hopeful breath when they start to rush to meet you. the harsh sun— fuck, it's so hot— makes you squint, preventing you from making out a face until they're already pulling you into their embrace, strong arms holding you close to their chest.

"it's okay." their voice— his voice, reassures you softly, one of his hands coming to rest on the back of your head, cradling you impossibly closer. "i took care of it, my dear. you're safe now."

hot tears streak down your cheeks, dirty with sand, dust, and ash, as you wrap your arms around his middle. you try to speak, but all that comes out is a hiccup and a pathetic sob, so you resolve to burying your face in his shoulder to muffle your cries.

you're tired. exhausted, actually. for once in this career, you want to be selfish. you want to be the protected one. fighting, losing allies, killing— it never ends.

he shushes you, but even in your state, you can tell the action is unnatural. gentleness, empathy, tender care... it isn't who he is.

you manage to lift your head enough to look at him, eyes glassy with tears.

makarov stares back at you, his callous gaze betraying the way he holds you. it makes you pause, confused, as you slowly recall why you're even here.

you were fighting konni operatives. there was a missile— no, something bigger. something that decimated the city and would have taken you along with it, had you not ducked into a shelter at the very last second. when you emerged, shaken and dazed in the aftershock, you encountered al-qatala and konni mercenaries alike.

bodies scattered in the streets, men wheezing for air despite blood displacing the oxygen in their lungs and leaking from every orifice, some still trying to fight even as they collapse in heaps of pure agony, writhing on the ground alongside their brothers in arms.

you wince when his fingers trace along the edge of your jaw, his forefinger hooking under your chin and forcing you to look into his eyes after your gaze drifts away.

"their lives mean nothing," makarov whispers, barely audible over the sound of your heart pounding against your ribcage. "not compared to you. you're better, stronger, than them. you will serve me well. you will help me usher in a new age."

he runs the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, slightly chapped from the dry heat. on instinct, you part your lips, and he moves his hand to cup your face before leaning in to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

it's wrong. this is wrong.

you shouldn't be here. you shouldn't be doing this.

the kiss is a distraction, keeping you occupied as his other hand falls from its spot on your hip. you don't even notice the change until a gunshot rings out, and pain equally as burning as the kiss courses through your veins.

you can't even muster a proper cry as you pull back, one of your own hands flying to the epicenter of the pain, right in the middle of your stomach. your fingers brush against the spot, and you whimper when you lift them back up to your face. dark red stains your skin, dripping down your wrist.

"i just need to fix you first. under my guidance... you will be perfect, my dear." makarov mutters, catching you and holding you up when you crumple against him. he coos at you, sympathetic yet mocking, as he scoops you up in his arms, the world around you going dark.

⋆⋆⋆

you wake up with a start, shifting to the edge of your seat as you frantically rub at your eyes. there's an ache deep in the pit of your stomach, making you press your palm against the same spot as your dream.

this time, when you look down at your hand, you see nothing. a shaky sigh escapes from you at the sight - or, rather, the lack thereof.

"y'all right?" ghost asks, eyeing you from the seat across from you.

"yeah, yeah—" you respond, shaking off the lingering effects of the dream. "we almost there?"

price comes over, having been talking with graves some feet away, and pats your shoulder in acknowledgement. "about to touch down, actually. let's go."

you disembark alongside the rest of alpha team, taking up formation with price and graves, with the few shadow company operatives behind the three of you. reaching the building isn't a difficult task despite the many mercenaries standing between it and your team; as much as you hate to admit it, the shadows are skilled in the field, even with their misgivings.

the building is another high rise, like the one you infiltrated weeks ago, half-crumpled from the effects of the fighting in the city. price leads the group as you all enter it through a sizeable hole in the wall, clearing out the first floor with trained precision.

the group of shadows form a perimeter just outside as you investigate the interior with price and graves, finding it... empty?

"thought you said this was the nerve center," you mutter, turning to the men as they search around, equally as perplexed as you. "there's nothing here."

price shakes his head, standing up from where he was crouched over some rubble. "there was something here. they must've moved."

"they knew we were comin'." graves says with a frustrated huff. "probably just protecting it to keep up the charade. the real control center could be anywhere in the city."

the two start for the exit with you in tow. "could be outside of it for all we know. we need to contact the other squads." price replies before pausing at the threshold and angling his head upwards. you stop several feet back and send him a confused look, before a low rumbling echoes throughout the building, sending dust and small debris falling from the floors above.

the rumbling stops for a second, until a louder, harsher one follows. larger pieces of wreckage start to loosen and threaten to fall, small bits clattering against the ground.

"shit, the building's too unstable— it's gonna collapse—!" price shouts as a metal beam crashes into the ground less than twenty feet away from you.

while price and graves are able to duck out amidst the falling debris, you're forced to dive backwards after a piece of the floor above falls right into your path. you search for a way around it, but as the violent shaking increases and sends more collapsing down all around you, you realize that cover might be your only option.

you scan the room quickly and dive under a pile of slabs and beams, sturdy enough to not collapse under the weight of falling wreckage, but with just enough room for you to squeeze in underneath.

it's only seconds after you find cover that the thundering sounds of heavy rubble crashing down all around you fills your ears, forcing you to cover them with your hands as each crash makes you flinch.

the worst of the destruction is short-lived. a couple minutes pass by before you're willing to move, the occasional piece of the upper floors still collapsing around you every now and then. you let out a trembling breath once you emerge, pure adrenaline coursing through your veins.

the exit. you hastily search for it, but all hope drains from you when you find it and see that it's completely blocked by the wreckage.

"petra? can you hear me?" price's voice crackles through your radio.

you go to respond, coughing harshly due to all the dirt and dust floating in the air. "i hear you— i'm all right," you tear your eyes from the exit and look for another path. it's a big building, surely you can find something. "just stuck in here." you grumble into the radio.

"we're gonna try to find another way in, see if you can meet us somewhere." he says. you can hear graves barking orders at his men in the background. "be careful." price adds in a rushed tone.

you drop your hand from your radio and clutch your gun close as you carefully traverse the field of debris, mentally thanking whatever higher power that the building only partially collapsed on top of you, instead of crushing you completely.

every movement out the corner of your eyes makes you stop and aim your weapon at it; it's highly unlikely - but not impossible - that you're not alone. anyone could've snuck in after the collapse, or hidden themselves like you did. al-qatala, konni, shepherd's men— you have a lot of enemies and very few allies in the area.

you spin around at the sound of something shifting, but only see a few pieces of wood hitting the ground. you're getting too paranoid. you try to steel yourself, breathing deeply, before a smooth voice makes you choke on the air that gets caught in your throat.

"you are very unlucky, aren't you?"

you turn again, gun drawn and finger on the trigger, but stop short upon seeing a friendly...

well, you see makarov standing across the room. it's an enemy that doesn't seem all-too interested in killing you - for now, at least.

"how did you..." you trail off, lowering your weapon.

apparently understanding your question, he vaguely motions behind himself. "there's a breach." he says, glancing over the destruction as he approaches you.

you squint at him as he draws closer, briefly tightening your grip on your gun. he stops several feet away, though, so you allow yourself to relax just a bit, lowering your weapon.

"i figured you'd be staying far away from al-mazrah, it's an active war zone after all." you comment, earning a dismissive look.

"i don't mind getting my hands dirty," makarov utters with a lofty grin tugging at his lips. "besides, we need to talk."

you cock your head to the side, curious. "and, you couldn't call or text me about this? that's been working out so far." you chuckle softly.

he steps closer again, standing a little over an arm's length away. "i happened to be close by." he responds. "this is also something better discussed in person."

you nod, hesitantly slinging your gun over your shoulder to cross your arms over your chest.

"after our last exchange, i managed to gather more information from my... source." he punctuates the last word with a half-assed attempt at a conciliatory smile. "the mole planted within your group reported to shepherd recently; he's aware of our communication." he continues, before you interrupt him.

"wait, no one knows about this, not even my squad." you assert, taking another step closer to him. you're just under an arm's length away, now.

"there was an agent within the group assigned to your care when you were captured. one of the two men that accompanied us on the first day - he listened in on our conversation and delivered the details to the general." makarov speaks in a hushed tone, one you can just barely hear over rubble crumbling somewhere nearby. "the agent on your end tracked you after you reunited with your squad. something of yours was bugged, they heard us that night."

how could he... most of your belongings were clothes, which you know for certain weren't bugged. the only other item that traveled home with you is your cellphone—

"shit," you mumble, practically tearing your vest pocket open and grabbing your phone. there's nothing obviously wrong with it at first glance, but once you pop the case off and check inside, your suspicions are confirmed.

there's a small tracking device flashing red at you, mocking you, and you rip it out before tossing it on the ground and stomping on it.

"he's heard everything," you say, twisting your boot to scatter the broken pieces. "fuck, if this gets out— i can explain this to my team and make do with the judgement, but if shepherd tells any of his friends in their cushy government positions, i'm dead."

makarov shifts, looking past you, but you don't even notice the action thanks to the adrenaline reflooding your system. "that would be an issue," he mutters, reaching for the holster at his hip. "i suppose i could protect you."

you snort, dragging your gaze from your boot to his face. "i'm not joining your side, even for this."

a thin string of red light shines from the darkness behind you, aimed at the back of your skull. makarov follows it to its source, all but ignoring your rejection, as his fingers wrap around the handle of his desert eagle.

a loud gunshot rings out, echoing against the walls. you instinctively reach for your stomach, preparing yourself for the pain you felt in that dream, body tensing up as it flies into survival mode.

the pain never comes. a heavy thump makes you turn, however, watching as a soldier collapses to the ground. unmarked uniform. one of the general’s men.

"shepherd has not earned your blood. if anyone is going to kill you, it will be me." makarov lowers his gun and meets your muddled gaze. "i suggest you reconsider my offer, petra, and give me a call when you make up your mind."

you’re left in that state as he sidesteps and saunters past you, seemingly disappearing into the darkness himself. you’re sure there’s another exit that you missed, one he’s taking to avoid running into your squad.

his offer. joining him for protection.

you'll never follow makarov or his ideals, much less join him for such a selfish reason. if you can kill shepherd, then you can destroy any evidence and get yourself out of this mess. with graves' cooperation and your team to help, that possibility is well within your reach. the only crime you'll have to answer for is severely disappointing your teammates, but they'll understand.

except, there's no guarantee that graves will help, and the rules of engagement prevent you from taking effective action against shepherd. he may be on the run, but he's an american general - killing him could land the one-four-one in hot water with the government.

that'll only lead to more restrictions, more eyes on you, more questions— there's nothing you can do to stop it.

you need someone without limits. someone the government doesn't have their hands on.

you need makarov.

a series of heavy footsteps alert you to a new presence, snapping you out of your trance. you lift your head in time to see price, graves, and the shadows appear from around a large pile of debris in the same direction that makarov originally approached you from.

"petra!" price calls out, jogging ahead of the group and stopping just in front of you. "you broken?" he asks, placing a firm hand on your shoulder and dragging his gaze across your form, searching for any injuries.

"no, i'm fine. nothing major." you mumble, struggling to find your voice all of a sudden. "just, uh..." you lose it again, your tongue darting out to nervously wet your dry lips.

"something wrong?" he murmurs, quiet enough that graves and his men can't hear from their positions farther away.

you can feel every beat of your heart, rapidly thumping against your ribs to the point of making your chest ache. only price can give you approval to do something so risky, so stupid. he'll understand. he knows the job isn't perfect, but you do what you have to do—

"i have something to confess, captain."

taglist: @sofasoap, @roosterr, @rohansregret, @lonesome-doves, @thorrsexual, @miss-nob0dy, @woodeelf, @fbs-fc-ur-mommy, @soap-mactavish, @itsyellow, @johfaam0, @cumbermovels, @chxe-zdechnac, @imagineswritersblog, @emorgz33, @sparda-ly, @ponyboys-sunsets, @frazie99, @chensipstea, @thriving-n-jiving, @preciouslittlecreature, @infinitewhore, @jade-jax

⋆ feel free to ask to be added to/removed from the taglist! (18+ only please <3)

#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #mw2 #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #makarov x reader #vladimir makarov x reader #cod makarov #vladimir makarov #sylph.writes

[letteredlettered]

would you be ok with a comment along the lines of, "i don't even like [character/pairing/trope] but your writing is so good, i really love this fic"? to me that's one of the highest compliments i can give, but i've seen some authors and artists call it off-putting and a backhanded compliment, so i figured id ask you first

I am not often moved to comment, because I am Like That (and that's okay!!!), but I most often feel moved to comment if someone makes me like something I didn't think I would like. In fact, in general, the media that moves me most is often media that changes my mind in some way. And when I am moved in that way, I tell the creator the way they moved me because I agree with you, it's a high compliment.

So, the comment you describe is very nice and I would certainly welcome it.

However. I have definitely seen some folks call it off-putting, and frankly, I find this very understandable. A comment in the vein of the comment you outlined can go in a few ways:

This fic was so good that it made me like [character/pairing/trope], even though I usually hate [it/them]

I like this fic, even though I usually hate [character/pairing/trope]

I like this fic, but I hate [character/pairing/trope]

I would like this fic, but I hate [character/pairing/trope].

I don't like this fic because I hate [character/pairing/trope].

I hope that you can see there's a progression here.

I love comments like 1) and 2)--they're saying "I have a personal feeling, but I'm mentioning it to demonstrate your fic is great!".

I think 4) and 5) are mean, hopefully for obvious reasons. People can say it; I posted my fic in a public place, but I don't have to like it.

For me, 3) walks a line. It doesn't seem to be sharing a personal feeling to demonstrate affection for the fic. It's just sharing a personal feeling. And again, if one is posting a fic in a public place, one has to be prepared for people to say whatever they want in response.

That said, I would write fanfic even if I didn't plan to share it. (I wrote fanfic well before I knew it was a thing; they were just little stories I wrote for myself and never thought to share). I'm not saying I don't care about the response--in fact, quite the opposite. I may write for me, but the reason I post it is because I think other people might care about things I care about, engage with things that are meaningful to me, and enjoy something I've done.

If I've written a character, ship, or trope, it's probably because I enjoy that character, ship, or trope, and want to share that enjoyment with others. A person can tell me they don't enjoy those things. People can tell me anything they want! But it's not why I shared the thing I made; it's not what I'm looking for or hoping for; it's also not very relevant to me. I won't like it and I won't welcome it.

I will add that I have gotten enough comments in the vein of 4) and even 5) that 3) sometimes feels like you're basically saying 4), and sometimes 2) even feels like it starts bleeding into 3). This happens a lot in life: when you have a lot of the same kind of conversation, when a new person comes in and tries to have a slightly different conversation, it feels like it must be part of the same old conversation that you've already been having. It happens way more often on the internet. Because you can't see faces, people don't look or feel like new people, so they might as well be the last person that left that shitty comment.

This bleed-over is unfortunate, but it's also why the actual semantics of the comment feel really important. In the end, I try to be careful to respond to what people actually say, but honestly receiving comments can be a raw business. It's nice when people say nice things! But sometimes people dump on you. Posting a fic is opening yourself up and being vulnerable, which is why imo if you want to comment it's worth it to take a moment to think about how the comment will be received. So, thank you for being so thoughtful, and thank you for your ask.

#comment culture

[snellyfish]

Why is Angie your favourite character?

This is really funny I just got off call with Glownary and was talking about how much I don't miss Danganronpa discourse. Anyway I hope someone finds a way to get mad at me in this post!

((Admittedly I'd probably actually place Korekiyo above her because he ACTUALLY has a relevant and specified canon story,,, but, y'kno))

Plain and simple, she just has a handful of design and character tropes I super adore in characters! As a base, I'm usually not super into,,, well-adjusted, well-liked , reasonable, and rational characters. LMAO. They're fine but I live for exaggeration. I LOVE when they're little freaks and not watered down at all for the viewers sake/comfort, I love when they (both the writers and the written) just keep twisting the knife for no good reason other than the bit despite how unconventional it may be.

One could argue that her not being watered down and being as shitty to the other players as she is is a trauma response, or just a mentally ill person being mentally ill. It can be neat to think of her that way sometimes! It's of my opinion that almost all Danganronpa characters are super open-ended lore/personality-wise and we as fans are just making up canon as we go because it's FUCKING FUN, and, as such, all the ways that Angie can be interpreted is very interesting to me-- EVEN if that's seen as "the irredeemable annoying religion-force-feeding zealot antagonist." Which is, of course, an objectively awful way to view anyone REGARDLESS of media illiteracy, but, you know! I like weird freaks so this "flaw" they see is simply more food for me. Yippee!!

Whether I think she's canonically A) genuinely malicious and sadistic, B) traumatized from an abusive religious sect, C) honestly caring about the other players, and/or D) none/all of the above? I'll never tell! Oops all bangers!

Tropes I enjoy, whether or not I found myself enjoying them BECAUSE of Angie herself;;

Religion, especially if it's horrifying and...bad! (Most of my own characters deal heavily with religion and religious trauma, I think it's cool to play with, whether or not it's a fantasy religion like I think Angie's is)

CULTS! Cult behavior! Let's live in a commune!! (GUYS I LOVE MIDSOMMAR)

Dark skin / light hair contrast color combo goes hard!!!

+ The pansexual flag palette is literally my favorite color combo ever!!!!

Manipulative little shits!!!!!

Small scary women!!!!!!

Islander stuff, it's very nostalgic to me and I just have a deep love and appreciation for the beach and ocean!!!!!!!

Piercings!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Cutesy sunshine character who could and would stab you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

BLOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IDK HOW THIS WASN'T MY FIRST POINT!!!!!!!!!!

AND SHE'S JUST FUCKING SILLY!!!!!!!! SHE'S GENUINELY SO FUNNY AND CUTE ESPECIALLY IN HER INTERACTIONS WITH SHUICHI!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE HER SO BAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

She was an IMMEDIATE favorite when I played V3 and when I found out that, like, everyone fucking HATED her and she's probably the least liked character in the entire class by the fans, my brain immediately went the contrarian route to find reasons to like her even MORE. I tend to do this a lot, but when it's a character I already enjoy, it's even worse, dude.

ummmmm obligatory Shinnaga mention sorry but I frequently tend to appreciate a character a lot more based on potential dynamics alone. Ships, romantic or not, have legitimately gotten me to enjoy characters I hated before, based on interesting interactions unique to them alone. So while Kiyo and Angie's (they're making out btw) ingame dynamic and dialogues aren't REALLY what my sick and twisted mind views them as, it's worth noting that my honest belief and interpretation of the two of them could even give me a sliver of that dynamic being possible .......... means she's fuckin slay ............ it means love wins..... It means Vote For Yonaga 2024

#angie yonaga #danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #character analysis #idk #ask #anon

[crypticjackal13]

Hi can I request a macaque, wukong, Nezha sandy x fem reader

Like reader has PTSD because a person close to her used her body to do bad things and other stuff….. but when months past sins that happened she stills has nightmares from what happened to her and when she’s closed to a man that she doesn’t know she starts getting a panic attack but if she forgets to take her pills that help her she starts hearing voices to do bad things to herself or hurt herself

ps: please can you do this because this has happened to me recently and I’m having a hard time right now and I want comfort from my comfort character also can it be Romantic for macaque, wukong, Nezha but for sandy platonic relationship like a father relationship please

I hope you find the comfort you're looking for in this, and I also hope you're able to heal on your own time. PTSD is nasty to have to live with, speaking from experience 😞

Macaque, SWK, Nezha, and Sandy x PTSD!Reader (Headcanons)

HEY. WARNING. HEAVY STUFF AHEAD. IF YOU'RE NOT IN AN OKAY STATE OF MIND I SUGGEST YOU AVOID THIS FOR NOW. THE CONTENT IS COMFORTING BUT THE SUBJECT IS HEAVY. GO WATCH SOME CAT VIDEOS. THANK YOU FOR BEING RESPONSIBLE FOR YOURSELF.

Macaque would swear vengeance when he finds out. Out of the group he would be the first resort to violence to cancel out what happened. If you tell him not to, convince him to stay and help you, he will. He'll drop everything to try and make you feel safe again. He keeps you close to him, making sure that above all else that whatever environment you're in that you are not in danger. If you have a panic attack I think he'd also panic a little bit but then he'd refocus and help to ground you, then help you get away from whatever triggered you. He has a very sharp memory so he reminds you to take your meds if you don't remember. But the downside is he'll feel super shitty if you hurt yourself. So he walks you through some guided meditation and breathing techniques.

Wukong focuses on you the moment he finds out. What are your needs right now? Have you taken your meds? Did you do some sort of self care today? He's super observant, he knew something was off with you, but he didn't want to pry. If you have a panic attack he will very quickly remove you from the situation so you're able to calm down. He gets you some water, your meds(if you forgot them) and tries to get your mind off of things. When it comes to what you do if you're off your meds, he's the king of distractions. He would never shame you for hurting yourself, but he would definitely try to steer you away from it and towards something healthier(i.e. squeezing an ice cube or scribbling on paper).

Nezha is very cautious with you. He is fully prepared to be violent if you want him to be however his top priority is you. He helps you find some kind of routine that ensures that you're getting what you need to function--water, meals, and some physical activity. If you have a panic attack, he's actually really good at helping to ground you. He lets you squeeze his hand or braid his hair. If you end up hurting yourself he first assesses the area--is there something there that triggered you? And once that's done he helps you. He helps you to get comfortable and provides some kind of activity for you to do instead. He still always offers to "get rid of the problem", though.

Sandy knows where you're coming from and he's determined to help. He starts out by getting some tea ready, and while that brews he talks to you. He walks you through your feelings and the basics of what happened. You relax a bit as he helps calm you down. If you allow him to he'll encourage you to spend some time with the therapy cats(especially Mo) and he'll even prepare the couch for you to sleep on if you want to spend the night. He is probably the best out of the group when it comes to reminding you to take care of yourself and take your medicine. If you happen to spiral or fall into a dark place he gently coaxes you into doing something else and relaxing again. He knows how to handle panic attacks like a champ and always tells you he's proud of you and how strong you are, even if you don't see it.

#lego monkie kid #lmk headcanon #lmk x reader #lmk #lego monkie kid headcanons #gender neutral y/n #lmk swk #monkie kid swk #swk x reader #the six eared macaque #lmk macaque #macaque x reader #lmk prince nezha #nezha x reader #nezha lego monkie kid #sandy lego monkie kid #lmk sandy #sandy x reader #you are not alone #comfort headcanons

[crayistic]

Feeling abit down today for no apparent reason -_-

So I thought i was write a post about last night's CR, so if you arnt caught up there will be SPOILERS ahead for CR3E78.

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Ok so I posted a rant on how I felt after E77 because my mind felt like it was going to explode. I spoke withsomeone about how i was hoping Matt would deal with the situation and as always he went one even better with Ashton rejecting the Shard. In my opinion this episode was brilliant, couldn't have been any better.

Matt having the shard rejected leaves it open to the possibilities of the emperor and empress storyline and if Fearne does choose to accept it, I'm still so excited to see a more powerful version of her, plus I think she deserves it. I know alot of people are getting feels about the fact that she said she didn't want it, but to me i don't feel like she doesn't want the shard. I feel like she doesn't want the possibility of turning evil and the fear of the shard being a catalyst of that is why she doesn't want it. However in the end if she accepts that and still chooses not to have it, then for sure fukl support.

The way Ashton dropped his guard, took responsibly for his selfishness and just down right shitty behaviour wad the best way to go for me. Don't get me wrong, doesn't change that he did a shit thing but I really can't think of a better way Tal could have played it. I still think Ashton is cryptic with the way he speaks sometimes but I do feel like I fully understand where he is coming from. When one of then said to him about being power hungry and he said it wasn't about that it's about being whole, I was sat there watching and said those exact words just before he said them. There is still alit of work to do, but being humble and accepting that gives me alot of hope. I'm looking forward to more conversations between him and fearne to explore what happened more.

Now Chetney... man I bow down to you sir. I adore this little man so much and he really stood out to me this ep so I just wanted to give him some appreciation aswell as laudna and the doll she made for Ashton. They all keep saying how broken they are, but it still doesn't really feel like they know and accept how actually broken you can be. The way Imogen has some crazy immeasurable power yet in the moment Laudna ran off she looks so powerless... one of the best things i enjoy so much watching CR is Laura when she is completely in character but sat there, not interacting with anyone at the time, however you can see her going through the motions. Just brilliance.

I'm just rambling now, this isn't very well put together lol but after last week I just felt like I wanted to say this episode was perfect to me, I love how it went and I can't wait for the next!

#critical role #critters #bells hells #campain 3 #laura bailey #marisha ray #imogen temult #ashley johnson #matt mercer #ashton greymoore #chetney pock o'pea #fcg #fearne calloway #cr3 spoilers #cr3e78

[stabbynunchuckss]

August and Seven - 1

So. This is my first piece with these characters. Um. Yeah. Hope it's not too shitty.

Warnings: Vampire whumpee, pet whump, imprisonment, collars, muzzles

Cell doors rattled as August walked past, their footsteps echoing through the concrete hall, but they paid the noise no mind - these cells had long since been emptied. They continued along, each cell they passed devoid of life. Blankets lay abandoned in the occasional corner, or else remains of meals piled up on floors.

Still, they continued.

And sure enough, as they reached almost the last cell, a body came into view. It seemed dead - blood pooled around its pale frame, and its eyes remained closed. As August approached, the body came more clearly into view, and they almost gagged.

Its ribs were clearly visible through its skin, and several appeared to be broken. Yet its chest still rose and fell, in a somewhat steady rhythm. The body - no, the person - wore no clothes, but for a simple black collar, and a muzzle tightened around their jaw.

August pushed at the cell door. It was heavy, but swung open with little difficulty, scraping lightly against the concrete floor.

They dropped beside the figure on the ground, placing two fingers to their neck in an attempt to find a pulse. They found one. Barely.

"Hey, uh- Can you hear me?" they tried. Nothing. "Hey, are you okay? Fuck, you can't- I can't be dealing with another dead body, you have to- You have to wake up, come on-" August's voice shook, but they forced themself to stay calm.

"Okay." They took a deep breath, staring down at the person on the ground. "Okay. Check for breathing."

They tilted the person's head back, and one hand moved to unclip the muzzle at the back- Until they were thrown to the ground with surprising strength, head smashing into the iron bars behind.

The figure, who had been unconscious moments before, was now standing pressed against the opposite wall, their breathing unsteady and about to collapse.

"Whoa, hey, it's okay," August began, getting to their feet and raising their empty hands. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I was just-"

But they were cut off as the person lunged at them, eyes wide and frightened, hands trembling. Pointed teeth flashed in the dim light, and August instinctively dodged, pushing back until the person was on the ground and they were standing above them.

"I- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please don't-" The person - vampire? - ducked their head and pressed their face into the floor. "Please don't kill me, I- I'll be better, I'll be good, I s- I swear-"

August moved closer, and the vampire let out a pitiful whimper, sinking even further to the ground.

"I'm not going to hurt you, love," August reassured them. "Can you look at me?"

The vampire forced themself to look at August. Their eyes were a shadowy grey, almost black in the darkness of the cell.

"Thank you. Do you have a name I can use for you? And pronouns?"

"I- My name is- is Seven, M- Master. And- And I don't- I'm sorry, Master, I- I-" The question seemed to have thrown them off, and August therefore treated it as a matter of isolation from society rather than ignorance.

"Pronouns," August said patiently. "You know, he, she, they..."

Seven's eyes widened, and they nodded. "Y- yes, Sir- Sorry, Master, I- I have always been an 'it', M- Master, but... if it is my choice, I-" They shook their head. "I am sorry, Master, pl- please forgive your pet, it is not- I am not thinking-"

"You're allowed to have opinions, love." They hated the way in which they had to give permission - give a full-grown person permission - to have an opinion. But they pushed down the anger. That wasn't what this person needed.

"If- if it is not too much trouble, I- I would like to be- I would like to be a- a 'he'?" It was phrased as a question, and August nodded in response.

"Of course."

The relief that came over Seven's face with those two simple words was enough to make August want to vomit. He had been so fucking scared over that one question, he'd probably not even expected such a response.

"I'm August," they managed to say, finally finding their voice again. "I use they/them pronouns."

"Y- yes, Master, thank- thank you-"

"There's no need to thank me, love. I was trying to remove your muzzle before, could you let me do that?" They crouched down to Seven's level, reaching out a hand to him, palm up.

"It is- is too dangerous, M- Master, it will- I will bite, and- and-"

"It's alright if you want to wait. I don't mind either way, but if you'd feel safer wearing it, that's okay." August stood once more, taking a step back. "Come on, then. Let's get you out of here."

-

I'm going to tag some people who I think would like this, but let me know if you want to be added or removed!! :)

@roblingoblin285 @rock-anon @i-eat-worlds @kiratheperson @a-crumb-of-whump @paintedpigeon1

#does my grammar make sense #i fucking hope so #whump #whumpblr #whumpee #caretaker #stabby's ocs #oc seven #oc august #pet whump #august and seven #vampire whumpee

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

hey cove! as a poc moot I feel like maybe I should pitch in also?

first of all anyone who's been accusing you of being intentionally uninclusive needs to understand that trying to guilt someone who has expressed a real interest in changing things instead of advising them will not solve the issue, just exacerbate it. they aren't offering any meaningful criticism, they're just yelling at you without offering any suggestions, which serves 0 purpose

I also get why you're hesitant about not wanting to go too far in the other direction and end up stereotyping in the name of inclusion! you value your work and don't want to give it the hallmark treatment, which is very fair of you and a much better way of writing than just resorting to tired tropes for the sake of points

I also understand why the original anon was frustrated, and I'm happy you came to an agreement with them, because you made it clear that you can see what they were talking about and didn't dismiss anyone out of hand. secondary poc ask that mentioned preferring a nonspecific reader over tropey writing hit the nail on the head in my opinion actually!

what people need to understand is that trying to be inclusive by pulling out tropes is still alienating, just in a different way? alienation by omission is what happens when you're constantly left out, which is why people like og anon feel like they're not presented equally.... but on the other hand, stereotypical writing also frustrates us because it feels almost careless, that you're treated as an afterthought who can settle for anything.

and you're aware of this, which the hissing gollum anon needed to understand! you know how disrespectful that would be so you hesitated, and the phrasing was enough to set them off, which is ridiculous because they weren't civil with you themselves.

all told I feel like your need for a break is valid, and you need the rest from tumblr for a bit to gather your thoughts. I also feel like most of your poc audience agrees that more nonspecific descriptions are the way to go, especially because you don't feel like you can suddenly switch up your writing, and you acknowledging that and wanting to try is good, whether bridge troll anon thinks so or not

i know this is very long and a bit rambly, but I feel like you deserve a more mature response than what some people have been plying you with lately (also, some of the characters you are writing for literally are poc themselves....? they're acting you've done nothing and it's so strange.)

anyway, I hope your break treats you well! and remember, it is an option to turn off anon asks if you feel like it. stay safe out there and good luck with the sem!

— aru

firstly, i appreciate you voicing your opinion!! there is nothing more comforting than to hear from those who are actually in the community!!

something that i LOVE that you pointed out that i didn't even realize is the fact that they added NOTHING TO THE CONVERSATION!! all they did was criticize me without backing up your claims or even voicing your opinions in a constructive way. i learned nothing, except that youre a dickwad.

i do regret the way i phrased it, but i was legit trying to keep the mood light because that ask had been stressing me out for a few days...like, dry heaving shaking and just completely frazzled. so, i acknowledge that there were better ways i could have phrased it, but i was like two days deep into the most stressed i'd ever been in my entire life, so im cutting myself a little slack lmao.

everything you said in this is perfect, perfect, perfect. so eloquently put while also tearing those shitty ass anons down.

ive def thought about turning anons off but i feel it would be unfair to those who use it in a respectful manner for their own peace of mind. but its def something i've been considering bc ALL the trouble i have is with anons, from illegal requests to all this junk now. but idk idk

#return to sender ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ

[bloogers-boogers]

So I've been getting into the sp fandom lately and let me tell u it's a must for me to do a one-shot.. It's gonna be a good attempt

One-shot SP

/CURSE/

(Kinda shipping? (Kyle/Cartman) Kinda trying to replicate the imagination land scene where Kyle dies an other various scenes, Cartman(important for the plot),Cartman and Kenny lore,some Stan against, and death of a main character. Kenny plays a role, also y'know death and resurrection that's he's thing.. right?)

It a pretty damn long One-shot.

It's been a common day in the little mountain town of Colorado called south park, Randy had arranged a parade/party at one of the most popular places in town 'DikinBaus' because of some festive weed special (trying to make it seem out of the ordinary weed when it comes to the same shit with a diffrent label) that Stan Marsh and his three other friends would care less about, well, atleast one. Eric Cartman.

Yes, the little evil master mind of south park.

Bitch was angry and quite bitter about the fact that his old home was no longer his, after being part of creating it's popularity. Though he did deserve it and his jewish friend made it know.

"I don't know why you're so pissed off, Cartman, you we're asking for it when you took advantage of Butters hard work," The latter roll his eyes.

"Whatever, it's Butters," He stated, as if it were obvious.

"Dude, just be grateful you got your old house back," Stan tune in, his tone was a little bit frustrated then it should've, luckily his fat friend payed not much attention to it. He wished he could move back, be close to his friends, have his old life back. But his father was farther than an idiot to just let go of his marijuana dream.

"How am I gonna be grateful about losing my DikinBaus!?," He exclaimed angry. Kenny, their blonde friend snorted, "shut up Kinny!."

"C'mon man, it's not a big deal," He patted the bigger boy's shoulder in hopes he'll just moved on from the subject. But ofcourse, he didn't.

"No! I can't leave it like this with out a fight!, I work hard for that shitty place to reopen, it's not fair!," He clenched he's fist, glaring at the nothing.

Both three boys just looked at each other, in a mutual agreement of not getting involved.

Later that day, Stan was forced to partake in the event host by his father, ofcourse not before arguing and complaining about it being just another waste of the income they made, for then later on his father to complain about how they had no money for more resources. Repeat all the time. Stan just hold the bridge of his nose outta frustration.

No boy his age should be this stress out for his parents doings, in this scenario, his dad.

"Hey Stan, check this out!," Exclaimed excited, Randy. The boy followed him, as he has no other choice but to listen.

"What the fuck is that," Stan questioned a little horrified, confused? He couldn't tell, cause he actually gave two shits. But this looked outta the ordinary of the ordinary. If that even makes sense.

There was a seagull looking mutation with what it seems like a rats feet. For a second there he was worried his father accidentally caught man bear pig's kid.

"It's the Tergrity farms mascot!," He exclaimed even more excited taking out a board outta nowhere, explaining his new strategy.

Oh. So that's that.

"Yeah, bye," said lastly, in a flat tone, no longer caring about the rest before returning outside.

Stan was not gonna get involved, no matter how bizarre and crazy his dad's Karen episodes get, he told himself for the millionth time that same day. He was NOT getting involved.

[...]

"For fuck sake dad! What did you do!?," He shouted confused by the change of event, being tied in a chair was far from the plans he had for this evening.

"Uh.. well, let's say it a TEGRITY strategy," Randy smiled commercially, clearly seems nervous. Clearly fucked up. The latter frowned from that response.

Stan sighed, "okay. What did you do," he asked again, finally had calm himself and processed the situation he's in. No pizza night at Tolkien's tonight he said to himself.

"Well, remember my mascot?,"

He nodded, ofcourse he did, it all happened today.

"Well turns out he's like, related to chutulu."

Stan wanted to grip his nose outta frustration again, so bad, after hearing that, "what?," he asked again. As he couldn't believe that thing was related to.. unfuckin' believable. Actually it was definitely believable.

"Yeah, I don't know how'd it happened but he found out and wanted to massacre me and my farm, can you believe that! I even offered some of my weed," said exhausted while having a pout face as a child being scolded.

"Okay, so how the hell did we end up being tied up?."

"Stan, there's a bunch of cult members in south park," he stated obviously while he rolled his eyes by being questioned this much. But he still bother to answer, "those motherfuckers knew chutulu wanted us so they found us, knocked us and tied us up, as their way of worship. We're pretty much a sacrifice."

"But why me!?," he stated bitterly as he was NOT trying to get involved today.

"Because you are, Stan! I told you about my strategy did I!?."

"I left!?."

They bicker a bit more before Stan decided to speak out for a solution.

"Look, I think, I have a plan. You know Cartman?."

"Your fat friend? What about him?."

"Well, he manipulated chutulu to join he's superheroe team awhile ago. Thing is, if we get Cartman, maybe he can help us."

"Isn't he like, a dick?."

"It's complicated. Let's just find a way outta of these ropes."

"Easy." Randy picked out of his pocket shirt with his mouth some weed and light it up with his feet and a lighter he had in his pants. And burned the ropes. He then untied him.

"You could've done that all this time!?," exclaimed baffled by his father's stupidity once again.

"No time Stan!," he said while he ran into the depths of the woods with the boy following behind.

Yes, they were in the woods. Let's move on.

[...]

Kenny found himself running like a mad man, he did not mean to provoke the dark lord, but he did. He just wanted answers about his curse! Was that too much to ask?

But here he was, regretting kicking one of those big claws of him after being bluntly ignored by chutulu, it seems it was looking for something. He assumed it was Cartman as he couldn't link the others with it. That fat fuck. What did he do!?

He couldn't bare die today as he was not aware how far chutulu would detroy the town by tomorrow. He needs to know why it's here, and ofcourse, his curse! Cause it seemed no one cares besides himself! Fuck!

He dodge one of chutulu lasers that ended destroying a car near by.

He hid in one of the markets from town, as if that's gonna make a difference. Then he saw him. That fat fucker! He was with Kyle and Butters in the meat section. Both seemed to be arguing about something while the blonde hold a riffle nervously watching the two, he'd care less right now about whatever those two were arguing about.

"You son of a bitch!," He slammed cartman into one of the freezer, Cartman looked at him with opened feared eyes, "what did you do!?."

"K-kinny..!?."

"Woah, dude, calm down," said, Kyle, "what's going on?."

" 'What's going on?'," he responded incredulous, "chutulu's out there destroying the town and killing countless souls! That's what going on!."

"Oh," Butters said not being so stoked about it.

"Yeah, we kinda know that, asshole," the brunette said casually loosing his grip.

"Eric thinks that chutulu may be here because of a mission," Butters explained.

"Oh really," the blonde said sarcastically eyeing him, "Cartman why the fuck did you summon chutulu here!? Do you know all the damage you've done."

"Excuse me? I didn't do shit, kinny!," Cartman exclaimed offended, by being accused so surely.

Yeah, he has committed various, and I mean, VARIOUS crimes, but he did NOT do this. Though he must admit to himself that this turn of events could be convenient for him to destroy DikinBaus. As no one in this stupid town does not deserve such a wonderful magnificent place. That HE made. And as such rightly deserves it and rightly could destroy it if he wanted to, right?

"Like I'm gonna believe whatever shit comes from your mouth, fatso," Kenny stated.

"It's true." Kyle spoke up, "what Cartman said.. look, I've been following this asshole since he said he was gonna try to do something about that dumb hotdog place, so, I followed him around-"

"Like and stalker," bluntly added Cartman.

"And-" Kyle continued, ignoring cartman's comment before frowning, "the only thing he's done is shit on Butter's porch and purchasing 200 hotdogs in hopes DikinBaus will run out and shut down. Which is the most ridiculous thing I've ever witnessed–"

"Oh c'mon, Kyel it was brilliant!," Cartman defended his stupidity, "it's easy an effective! I buy all the hotdogs, open my own stand and start a business," finalizing while crossing his arms. Kyle look at him angrily.

Nobody will question where he got the money to pay for all those hotdogs. Most likely in a fraudulent way. Whatever it doesn't matter.

"You ate all the hot dogs, fatass!!."

Cartman frown finding a better comeback, "well..! Atleast I have hot dogs!."

"What?," Kyle responded simply with one eyebrow upward.

"Tsch, whatever. I have a new better plan that I won't be sharing to either of you assholes."

Kenny, snapped. He had enough of this bullshit.

"Guys! Chutulu!?."

"Oh yeah, yeah," Cartman had his arms up. A freaked Kenny is a scary Kenny, "uh, what about him?," he added.

"Really?," he asked again incredulously, not waiting for an answer he continued, "something or someone must have summon the dark lord. We need to find a solution to get him out."

"Dude, that's chutulu. Even if we wanted to do something what can we do about it?," Kyle added skeptical.

"Yeah, it's not like this shitty town deserves to be saved anyways," Butters stated, still a little bitter about having to spend community service cleaning the mess the towns people made just cause he was seen as a sex offender for pinching a girl who he thought had no green on San Patrick's day!

"Well. Cartman?," Kenny asked staring deeply into Cartman's eyes. For some odd reason he felt a connection with the boy. As if his eyes had a glint of something.. he just couldn't recall what it was.

"How would I know?," Cartman asked confused, and kinda annoyed that he hasn't even started his plan B because of an overdramatic Kenny.

"You manipulated chutulu you fat fuck! Do it again," He exclaimed frustrated of the whole thing now looking at the other boys. He's finding all of these unnecessary scenarios being unfold overwhelming. Nobody seems to care, nobody seems to care about chutulu destroying south park, maybe he doesn't care!?

He sigh. Maybe he really doesn't. Maybe all this is an excuse to find out about his curse shield with the idea of being heroic. Screw that. He cared! This town may be fucked up but it was his home! Our home! They must care!

"Okay, I got a plan," Kenny stated finally after a brief silence.

[...]

Cartman found himself frowning angrily standing in the middle of the street, in a kitty costume. He would've rather just picked his coon costume but Kenny stated it'd be more effective and he was definitely trying to mess with him once again, cause he found it hilarious.

Stupid kinny.

The other three boys were hiding behind a dunked car near by him. Not like it'd make a difference. Always put Cartman in the more risky messy situations! Ofcourse he was convinced with a reward if things goes well, not because he's scared of Kenny and he was being a pussy! It was the reward he was promised of!

He heard Kenny snicker a bit, stupid kinny. He finds this amusing didn't he!? Asshole.

He then was faced with the giant dark lord with each step the ground rumble and the buildings breaking and weakening by him.

He gulped. He's done this before, he can do it again. Why is he nervous this time?

Both pair of eyes met. Time for action.

"Miaw Miaw! If it isn't one of my best pals! Miaw miaw!," he then climbed in one of chutulu's feet to his head. My gawd he deserves a reward for this acting. He then pursued on scratching the lord's head as he enjoyed the sensation of the fake claws on his skull, "who's my precious chutulu?," he then added a purr distracting the giant.

The three boys started preparing the trap they had made while upon seeing cartman's manipulation was once again, working. That fucking fatass.

Kyle was trying to knot the rope to one of the polls light but end up falling backwards in the sight of chutulu, who immediately put it's attention on the redhead. Great, just fucking wonderful.

Chutulu immediately turned his attention to Kyle and growled once knowing damn well this was set up.

"Dammit jew!," Cartman shouted making it more obvious that this in fact was, indeed a setup.

'Twack!'

Chutulu looked behind him as he had felt a tiny rock hit his tail.

"Stan?," Kyle said confused. Once Stan and his dad we're visible with some hunting gear on and some guns in there hands.

This was not going as plan. And once again Kenny sigh frustrated. He wasn't sure if the new pair of characters were a good thing or not. He's gonna let it slide this time.

Randy slowly approached chutulu leaving behind Stan, who just cautiously watched.

He then took out a weird mutant goose rat thing from behind his right arm.

Chutulu raised a brow. If that's even possible, but it was. Ofcourse it was.

Chutulu looked down as the mutant thingy went to his side rubbing himself against it's feet. It was heartwarming if it weren't for the situation they were put for and who it was. Then Chutulu did the imaginable, he squashed it.

Stan and Randy looked stoked.

"Well that does it," said Randy.

Both Marshes mouth agape, still looking at chutulu and now dead corpse.

And in splits seconds Kenny put himself in front of the two, standing in front of chutulu embracing his blonde hair exposing his face, he had taken his parka off. Glaring at the monster above. He have had enough.

"What am I?," he asked once more, "answer me now!."

"What's with this one?," Randy side eyed Stan, as he shrugged in response. Confused also.

Chutulu ignored him and approached Randy. Which jolted a bit nervous as he did not figure out what he did to anger the creature. If it wasn't his mascot than what?

He lowered his face to the man and quickly head bunked him to the side, hitting his body through a store window breaking into pieces.

"Dad!!," Exclaimed Stan, rushing in hurry to his father's aid. Noneless a idiot but still his idiot.

"Ow! I'm okay Stan.." the injured man reassured.

In a blink of an eyes the military had showed up and started attacking chutulu, bullets in and out angering the creature, he had put himself on it's feet again trying to block the bullets and attacking the attakers, Cartman still on the dark lord's head completely taken off guard as he was distracted with the dialog was then shot in the back 'ow!' falling off chutulu's head straight to the ground. He had broked his limbs and neck during impact. This anger chutulu even more, as for him kitty Cartman was like a pet.

Kyle and his other two friends had witnessed it. As he shouted, "¡Cartman!," he ran towards him caring less of the chaos around him.

"Fuck, he killed Cartman!," Kenny exclaimed as he approached the now what appears dead boy.

'There's no way'.

"Holy fuck!," said Stan from a far, he was still on his father's side but had witnessed it aswell.

Kyle was next to him analyzing the boy's wounds as he couldn't believe it.

"He's dead.." says Butters while having his mouth slightly agape standing next to Kenny watching the now corpse.

"You bastard.." whispered Kenny, he was staring at his so called best friend, lifeless eyes. It was definitely an odd sight.

"He can't be dead.." Kyle reassured griping into the boy's costume, "he just can't," he frowned.

Stan had already approached the scene as his father seem to had been well standing up not as injured.. or in this scenario dead.

He was also as stoked as the two other boys that were just standing there watching there fat friend laying there. Kyle was the only one on the ground gripping on to Cartman as if he didn't want to let go.

Kyle stared at him for a bit longer than he expected, his body had lost color, his half lidded lifeless eyes staring at him and his hands were cold.. this can't be happening. Cartman can't die. That's not possible!

Kyle with both his fist hit his friend's chest as hard as possible, anger. So much anger!

"Cartman! Can't! Die!," hitting him more times with no intention, it just felt right.

"Woah, dude," Stan put a hand on his best friend's shoulder trying to calm him down he's never seen his friend act this way. And to be honest he never expected to see Cartman this way either. Lifeless.

Kyle smacked Stan's hand off him still in disbelief.

"¡Cartman! Cartman!," he shouted almost in a cry, desperation in his voice," you fat fuck! Wake up!," he again hit as many times as he could, in the dead one's chest.

"Dude, Kyle.. he's gone," Stan said in the most pity voice. As if he could feel what Kyle felt.

"No he's bullshittin' he's fucking bullshitting, Stan!," He said almost as he's trying to believe it himself, he felt himself shake, his eyes felt watery.

A big thump caught their attention leaving the other boy kneeled to the other not leaving his side. He could now care less about that fucking dark lord and this stupid chaotic town!

"You fat fuck...!" he whispered more to himself as he closed his eyes and clenched his fist.

He may hate Cartman, and may have countless times told him that's he's better off being dead. But he really didn't mean it. If Randy can be alive, if Garrison can be alive, if man bear pig can be alive.. then why can't him? It's only fair. Two of those people he mentioned are assholes in there own fucked up way, but have done countless crimes and gotten away of being a dick atleast man bear pig is a wild satanic creature it makes sense if he kills thousands of lives. But those two other bastards are here! Free, alive.. So can Cartman!

"Cartman..?," he said choked as he felt steaming tears fall down his cheeks as he watched his fat friend laying down breathless, no bicker response. No insults. Nothing but flat silence from his part. His death even seems painful, not the typical peaceful dead look, just plain painful.

[...]

As the day ended things went back to normal as per usual, well almost.

Kenny never thought he'd find himself sitting in a funeral of one of his best friends. It was always the way around. For some reason it felt wrong. That he was supposed to be in that box and not his friend.

His mother crying on the side of the casket while some of the south park parents tried to comfort her, but failed. As she was never that close to them anyways. Besides, deep inside she knew no one would fully understand what she feels as she knows her son wasn't the best of person's. And that probably there were people from this town who'd want this or asked for this. But she? She saw the evil in him and had gotten tired of his stupid schemes but that was still her little boy and she will always be his mother. And that won't ever change, so the pain will always remain there. And everyone else was an hypocrite in her eyes.

The four boys remain silent, listening to the ceremony behold them. Yes four boys, as for now that Cartman would no longer partake in their group they added Butters in his place.

"So, do I like have to act like an asshole now?," Butters asked grabbing their attention.

"Uh no?," Stan answered.

"Well if I'm gonna take Eric's place I think I should like try to act like him, like when you guys once choose Clyde because he was the second fat boy of our class..?"

"No Butters, you don't have to act like Cartman," Stan stated now a little annoyed, this wasn't the place or time to discuss something like this when their friend hasn't still been buried. It kinda stings.. this feels fresh. It is fresh. Who knew this fat fuck would affect him?

"Are you sure?."

"For fuck sake Butters, shut up!," Kyle exclaimed angrily, receiving a couple of odd stares from some of the other people there. He cared less to be honest. He clenched his fist as he wanted so bad to punch his face and beat him up. As he'd normally just do with Cartman. Cartman..

Cartman, Cartman, Cartman..

He looked down to his feet avoiding his friends gaze.

[...]

Two days have pass, and honestly this Butters thing just wasn't working. Stan wondered if he truly would prefer having Cartman back than having to witness a whimp like Butters attempt to be a douchebag loser. Don't get him wrong, Butters can be a douchbag but he can't get into Cartman's level. Even if he tries to be. Maybe that's what Butters doing wrong? He's attempting to be someone he's not when he can easily be himself as a douche. But still, not Cartman.

For much of Stan's surprise, south park still hasn't changed a bit after his friend's passing. It's still chaotic, and bizarre. And as hard to admit it even feels longer and even torturous. New characters appear here and there, some were dicks, others were plain awful, some just bland boring ass people. He couldn't believe it, he's actually starting to miss him, as these other characters just feel forced to continue continuity when it's just full filling!

It's just two days. Two fucking days. He's been longer than that with out seeing his fat friend and he's okay with it, even thankful, and yet knowing he won't ever be seeing him because he's dead just changes things.

Let's not even talk about Kyle. Out of the the three. Yes, he's not counting Butters. Fuck Butters!

Kyle has been the most affected. Ofcourse he also has to witness the cringey attempts of their idiotic blonde friend, trying to become his new "arch-rival" as that comes in the packaging of being Eric Cartman. Including being a selfish, manipulative piece of shit. Anyways, point is, to be Eric Cartman you must also hate Kyle Brofloski. And Butters just doesn't have it in him to fully hate on someone or just give him the time of day Cartman would normally do daily, actually obsessively to Kyle.

So here he was, on one of the seats of the school buss behind Kenny and Butters, hearing Butters trying to bicker Kyle. It really feels surreal.

"So, Kayl."

"It's 'Kahl', if you're trying to mimic Cartman atleast do it right," he responded back with an added eye roll at the end.

"Well, geezz.. I mean Ay! Shut up you dumb jew! I'll do and say what I want, whenever I want!."

Well, now that's actually better. Stan actually had to repressed a laugh cause he actually found that funny.

"Wow, Butts you're getting better," complimented Kenny.

Butters beamed and stared at Kyle, who silently watch another kid entering the bus. He really did not bothered putting his attention on the blonde.

"C'mon Kyle, you must admit that was pretty good," He tune in, trying to get Kyle to loosen up.

"Yeah.. I suppose," Kyle then looked up at Butters while the other just looked back nervously. Kyle sigh, "can you fight?" he then added with a glint of mischief while the other two boys stared at Kyle, confused for the sudden change in demeanor. Butters looked a little uncertain on what to answer.

As he should, this is Kyle we're talking about.

"O-ofcourse I do!," In fact, Butters does know how to fight, just not Kyle, never Kyle.

"Great, meet me up after school in the playground," said finalized while standing up to get off the bus.

"Ah geez.." Stan heard Butters whispered before getting off the bus to join his friend.

He didn't know what Kyle had planned, but he sure wants to find out.

[...]

"Oh geez! I don't think I can be Cartman no more!," exclaimed Butters with a couple of bruises in his face, tired, "Kyle was beating me up like a butcher to its meat selection!."

"Well that is Cartman's job to deal with y'know," Stan added. He figured this must be a way for Kyle to get rid of Butters. So he followed along.

"Yeah dude, if you're gonna be Cartman. You must know that you have to become Kyle's personal punching bag," Kenny tune in, actually enjoying the laugh. He knew we were all messing with him. Cause in fact, it seems Stan was not the only one bothered by Scotch.

"Oh Jesus!."

"Man, actually I do believe you can become Cartman, even better. As you seem to be more capable of taking Kyle's moods," yeah, we can be assholes sometimes. Stan smiled a bit.

"Oh boy.." he was not liking what he was hearing. Before adding anything further Kyle approached the group, tuning in with a happy humming.

"Hey there guys," he then glared at Butters, "Butters."

"AHHHHHH!!!," He scream while dashing out of there before adding, "Screw you guys I'm going home!."

"Well, that does it," Kyle shrugged.

"Guess no one can deal with you more than a day," Kenny added.

"I guess so."

"So now what?," Stan questioned. Everything just went silent.

Normally Cartman would suggest some stupid shit, we'd shit on first before following through with it. But even the substitute bailed on us, so we must figure it out on our own.

"Board games..?," Ken then added.

"Nah, done that yesterday," Kyle replied, tapping his foot on the ground, kinda impatient, kinda bored.

"What about basketball," Stan suggested. Once again the three boys remain silent. The wind whistling in their ears as they thought harder and the space between them felt thicker as they become smaller. And smaller, and smaller..

"Who wants to try summoning Cartman with a ouija?," Kenny added plainly, while pursuing on leaving the area to his place, with the certainly the others would followed.

In fact, not only did they follow, they were eager for it.

[...]

-In Hell-

"Dammit! no barbecue at sight in the most hottest place between three worlds!," Cartman exclaimed baffled.

He's been a hell citizen for two days now, and it has sucked. He isn't even allowed to go in the cool clubs cause he was a minor and would be forever be one for eternity! He did enjoy the public torture that was embrace there but besides that, nothing too outta the ordinary he could see up in south park.

He sigh, not knowing what to do, with out his friends to annoy, death feels empty. Boring as fuck! He wants to get outta here!

When he approached a counter were there were two men talking about some country song while drinking martinis, he decided to sit next to them. They immediately stayed quiet as his presence disturb them. 'Dumb bitches' he thought.

"So... how can we get out?," he asked.

"Excuse me?,"

"Yeah, like how do we get out from hell."

"Oh, why the hell do you want to get out?."

"Because it's boring as fuck, i want to live!."

"Well, he is young, George," one of the men side eyed his companion. The other nodded in agreement.

"Well there's no way, young boy," one of the men answered, I'll call him number two. Pftt, number two, get it? Hahaha! He repressed a laugh and continued trying to get more information outta the two grown men.

"Okay, but like there must be atleast someone who COULD know a way outta here, right?," he digged.

"Hmm.." number one begin thinking, pftt.. number one, "actually I believe there is."

Getting the boy's attention, he leaned forward as if it'd help him hear them any better. They were both drunk as fuck. For what it appears. Their talk was all gibberish, but 'anything to get out of here' he said to himself.

"You should look for the 'dark red soul'."

"The 'dark red soul'..?," he murmured.

"Yup, he lives in the coast side, just follow the direction signs and go to the yellow hotel. And just ask for him, someone must know where exactly he lives at, he's quite a party goat," number two explained chugging the bit of martini he had left.

So that, he did, he followed the directions signs that lead him to hotel 'jak n off' it was yellow, that's all he cared about. This asshole better know how to get out or he'll make sure he'll make himself a new bowl of chili.

[...]

"Oh, looking for red man?."

"Sure? Is that dark red soul?," he asked not very sure if it's the same guy he was told of.

"Yeah, that's his party animal name. Follow me."

'Tch, lame.' But he did follow. This tall freckle man took him to a long dark alleyway, he was feeling skeptical at first but then remembered he couldn't die if he was already dead. It's like respawn. Sigh. He remembered when he first came here, he fell in some spikes down a lava-fall (waterfall) he also remembered how painful it was but how quick he repawn back. So all is new.

The man enter a dark room and turn on the lights.

"Yeesh!!," some rookie exclaimed angrily as he was caught in a very peculiar position with a lady friend. Both naked.

"The fuck man!?," the red head turned his gaze down looking at the chubby boy.

His eyes widen as the latter.

"Dad..?" his mouth slightly agape. He couldn't fucking believe it. Out of all things. Out of all people. It was him.

Back then he would've dreamt of finding his dad, feeling complete and happy. But once he knew about what the town hid from him what HE hid from him, he just became bitter with the idea of ever having a father figure in the picture. He figured it would've weakened him and it was for the best to had never encountered or meet him. Cause he hates feeling weak. Cause he isn't.

They both looked at each other for a long brief silent second.

The other two people that were in the room left them, well more like the other dude stole his companion.

"Uh.. 'dark red soul'..?" he added, uncertain what to say. The boy felt his legs wobble and his lip twitch. While the older man had his left eye twitch instead.

"Yeah.." Jack answered quietly.

They were both put in a very awkward situation.

"..Eric huh?.." He then added when he received no answer. He wasn't use to having someone who didn't listen to him. Noneless a son who doesn't. Scott was always so eager to answer him even with the most smallest things. Man, he really missed his boy.

"You know my name?," the boy answered too quickly than he expected. He cough nervously, "ofcourse you do, I'm Eric Cartman," he boost his ego. More like a cover up of his insecurities at the moment.

Jack lighten up a bit at the comment. Indeed he knew about the trouble maker he was, well the trouble in general, everyone in south park knew. The son of a single crackhead whore mother, a whore he slept with.

"I see you're quite a confident one," he said cheeky before nudging the boy.

Cartman jolted by that action. Skepticism was basically like his middle name. That type of gesture is uncalled for and unnecessarily. And it made him feel uneasy for some reason.

"Yeah..right," he decided to ignore the remark, "okay so.. I heard you know how to get me back to south park?."

"Oh, so that's why you're here?," then he realized that the only reason the boy is presented here was because of the inevitable, he died in the upper world.

Maybe it's his instincts, or just maybe because he's been so lonely. He feels this sudden sickening attachment towards the boy. As messed up as it sounds, considering he did ground him into chilly. But in his defense he didn't know. He didn't know he was his father. Would've that made a difference? That he couldn't know. But that made him soften just a bit. That would keep him fooled just for now.

"Yeah, I want to get back home," Cartman stated, as the tense moment had started to drift off coming to a lighter ambient.

"Oh, well I suppose I could help you with that," he lied. He saw Eric's eyes sparkle a bit, as in hope. It remind them so much like Scott's..

"Sweet!," he exclaimed excited. Finally, this literally hell will be over soon.

[...]

"So you're saying you own that hotel?," Cartman asked. As his father explained most of his living down in hell and his ropes in it.

They headed to a taco stand and Jack gesture him to take a seat in one of the chairs while he order.

"Pretty much. Cool huh?," he responded a little proud of his accomplishments.

"Yeah.. so.. 'jak n off'?," Cartman asked while he saw the waiter place their beverages in the counter.

"Haha yeah.. I thought it'd be funny. No one seems to care," he added with a chuckle, taking a sip of his soda.

"Ha.. I- when I was in the upper world me and my friend kinny started a business reopening a old hot dog restaurant and we named it 'DikinBaus' haha.. just to mess around with people," he admitted, strangely still feeling uneasy and nauseous.

"Ha! 'DiknBaus'? I love it!," Jack laughed a bit whipping a fake tear out of his right eye, "I guess we share a certain humor, Eric."

"Yeah.." he look down at his hands. It felt odd talking to his dad. He wasn't sure if it was good but he knew it wasn't unpleasant.

"So you also have a business?," Jack asked interested. His boy does resemble him in ways he won't deny that, though his slut of a mother's features were surely there, all over his face to be in fact.

Scott never seem interest in taking big steps on trying to climb to the top leagues or have big ideal dreams. He seemed okay with living in the low peaceful life and well, following his favorite bands gushing over there new songs as a fellow follower than a leader.

"Well. Turns out they took it away from me when it became one of the most popular places in town! Can you believe that?," he complained, finally letting loose the awkward tension he felt, to vent his anger and displeasure, "and what's worse is that my mom followed through with it and didn't care that we had a lifetime successful business with a cool looking house!."

"That sounds awful, your mom's a bitch," Jack admitted. He can already tell Eric can have a bright future as a business man if he we're to try harder.

The boy jolted. It anger him when anyone talks bad about his mom, maybe Jack can be an exception being his dad and all?.. but it still pinch his heart and left a sour feeling in the tip of his tongue. Yes, his mom's a bitch, but only he can say it. He really doesn't know how to respond to his dad about it.

"Right.." he then continued sipping his soda, "so, how did you manage to create one of the most popular hotels in hell?," ignoring further his mother's mentioned.

"Well, when I was down here I was very popular among the other people that had also previously died. I stood out in a way."

The food had already been served. And Cartman picked one of the bean tacos and starting munching it, he felt his father's stare on him and he felt conscious of how he was eating 'Do I have something?'.

"Really? What made you so different?," oblivious to the other stares he was getting from the other customers.

"My death," He bluntly admitted, making Cartman almost choke on his food. 'Fuck'

"Oh," he flatly stated.

"Yeah, it was a hit back then. Everyone was talking about it, and people glorified me for it. As they say it was one the most radical deaths they've had ever heard happening," Jack explained, smiling by the memory, he found himself oddly proud of it. As it had benefited him in so much, and honestly he liked the attention on him, "As to expected I was very popular and was given many opportunities, like talk shows and lots and lots of 'money'," said emphasizing the last word.

Cartman stared at him for brief seconds, "money?," hint of greed in his words. Jack smiled by that, and nodded. He sure was his son.

"So.. how did you die?," he finally asked that anxious question he's been wanting to know.

"So like, I was kinda forced to help my annoying friends out to bring back chutulu to the underground, even though I didn't want to and wanted to just use chutulu to destroy 'DikinBaus' as because no one deserves such a wonderful place I made, and I was shot by the military by accident while I was on top of chutulu's head, falling straight to the ground," Cartman answered casually, squeezing some ketchup on his plate mimicking the blood he imagine leaving, sparing the costume details and the manipulation tactic he use too.

"Wow, I guess us Tenenorman just have it in us on dying radically and cool," Jack laughed excited with a fist in the air.

The name used took Cartman off guard. He was a Cartman after all! But it really warmed his heart to be complimented that much and it felt nice, being included for once. So he let it slide just this once.

"Yeah, I guess it is!," He exclaimed more confident and puffed his chest out, proud.

Jack gave him a warm smile and Cartman returned it back.

[...]

Jack had went on asking for some books he claimed as 'solutions' for Cartman's problem, while the boy decided to sit back and rethink his choices of the chilly incident and how different it would've been if they had just told him the truth.

Then, he felt a odd buzzing sound inside of his ear. He started smaking his left side with his palm.

"Cartman!," he.. 'was that Stan?', "Dude can you hear us? Are you there?."

'Holy shit, it is the hippie!'

"Stan?."

"Fatass?," another familiar voice chimed in.

"Aye! I Ain't fat you stupid jew!."

"Holy shit, Cartman dude!," Stan exclaimed a little too excited then he wanted to be. Cartman flinched by the intense noise in his ears, it was bothering him.

"Ow! Aye you damn hippie! Lower your voice will yah! My head hurts just hearing you guys!."

On the other side Kyle couldn't hold a smile. The other boys just laughed by being able to still annoy Cartman even being in a whole different life.

"So how's it going over there, Eric," Kenny asked.

"Yeah, you haven't lost ten thousand pounds over there by not eating junk food all day?," Kyle added, knowing well Cartman would answer back by the remark he leaned forward to the magic ball that was centered in the middle of the ouija.

"In the matter of fact, you dumb jew, I'm eating pretty well," The boy answered with puffed cheek and airs of superiority, "But things are going pretty well, it's boring as fuck though I was trying to find a way outta here," he then added. Not even questioning how they even managed to connect with him.

"And how's that going, Cartman?," Stan asked curiously. He really wanted to know if there was way.

Cartman took a few seconds to rehear his friend's question. He considered it a bit. After all, he was starting to find hell quite less boring now that he found his dad. He was not going to admit that to them though.

"Uh- well, I'm still on it. Not much luck though," he lied.

"Dammit Cartman, you fat fuck you really can't do shit with out us can you," Kyle then added, smirking slightly.

"Aye!."

The three boys started howling of laughter.

"Eric?."

Eric jolted in shock by the sudden voice behind him, reappearing to his vision. He reposition himself.

"Everything alright?," Jack answered a little concerned of his son behavior just now. He had just returned with some books at his hold while he witnessed Eric seemingly talking to himself.

It was nothing new to him that his son was mentally fucked up, so he has decided to shrug it off.

"Yeah, everything's alright."

'Who's that, fat boy?,' Stan asked.

"No one.." Cartman answered in a whisper.

"C'mon, Eric. Let's go to my place and discuss about your situation," Jack added with a nod gesturing to follow him.

Eric then pursued on following behind him.

[...]

"I guess we lost connection with Cartman," Kenny stated. As they no longer could hear their fat friend.

"How long will it take for us to be able to contact him again?," Kyle asked a little eager. He was finally being able to enjoy the presence of Cartman again, and honestly it was hard to admit he did miss it.

"Probably tomorrow," the blonde shrugged laying down on his bed, "maybe we should try asking the goths if they know how to bring a person back from the depths of hell."

"That sounds like a good idea," Stan chimed in.

The three were now determined on bringing Cartman back.

On the other side, Cartman found himself admiring his father's pent house. It had one of the most amazing views of hell. He stared at the window for a brief long period while seeing every store, house, streets, even the small from afar hell citizens.

And don't get him started on his gaming room! There was also a personal gym 'meh' who gives a damn about exercise. He continued looking through the home. Big kitchen, bathroom, room.

Wow, literal heaven.

There was a box full of condoms on one of the kitchen counters which his dad immediately hid when he found the boy inspecting the area.

He followed behind him with his arms cross on his back, he liked how much Eric was admiring his success with those big innocent looking eyes, though he knew deep inside that image, he was a little devil just like his mother. Both innocent looking yet easy to sugarcoat someone into giving them what they want, making them devilish.

He remembered venting with pride to his son Scott about being a Denver bronco and the games his won, all the attention he received because of it looking for praise from him, but received none but a small nod while he presided on listening to music. Maybe because he was a teen and no longer interested in hearing about their parents accomplishments and tales.

But Eric, oh small little Eric found everything he did amusing and exciting! He enjoyed that.

"Okay, uh.. Jack?," the boy spoke, uncertain what to call him.

"You can call me dad," The redhead added too quickly, he 'tsch' silently.

It went silent again. Jack figured it'll be a matter of time for things to settle down and fix on it's own.

Cartman had his mouth slightly agape staring at his father trying to pick on any slight hint of bluff in him. But found none. 'No one wanted to be his dad' no one dare tried to be.

Jack was starting to feel a little uncomfortable 'maybe it was too soon?' Before the boy spoke up.

"O-okay, dad," he said with a flat line as his mouth.

That word just felt so cursed coming out of his mouth.

Jack beamed.

[...]

A whole week has passed and the boys were no longer able to contact Cartman. Kyle began to worry if something must have happened to his idiotic friend while in search of an exit from hell.

They had failed miserably to summon Cartman back. Tried the various forms the goths have told them to do. But nothing worked. And now they had lost the only connection they had towards him, Cartman was just too much to bring back he supposed.

Stan had suggested that it may be because he was too fat to fit in any of the portals made. He found that funny cause it was most likely to happen.

He sigh.

The boys decided to just start looking for a new replacement. As they had already gripped on the idea on the other boy's return being less possible.

So here he was. Being the one chosen to pick the new Eric Cartman.

"So why again do I have to pick him?," he asked with a frown expression, having cupped his cheek with the palm of his hand.

"Because, the new Cartman has to be able to keep up with you," Stan stated the obvious.

Kyle raised a brow by that, "What's that supposed to mean?."

"It means, that if he were to be put in a stupid situation where he pissed you off enough to riled you up, then he must be able to budge through with it."

"Doubt it," He said bored. He wasn't interested in finding a new Cartman, he wanted his Cartman back. Their Cartman back.

"Okay, kid. You got the rules?," Stan questioned, eyeing a brunette chubby boy. His name was Tobias. The boy tilted his head not as sure.

"So.. I just can't fight back?," he asked displeased, wrinkling his nose. 'Kinda like cartman' Kyle thought.

"No. You fight back in a sketchy scheme to bite back at Kyle," Kenny explained balancing a pencil with his mouth, "you just let Kyle beat you up."

"But- that's not fair! How can I just let this dude just beat me up?."

Kyle was just standing next to him eyeing the boy. Already annoyed by this interaction. A good start he supposed.

"Dude, it's Kyle you just-" Stan gripped the bridge of his nose to calm himself down, "look, you be an ass, then Kyle beats you up for it. Get it? That's how their dynamic works."

Still not reassured by the answer the boy looked at Kyle in a stance for a fight.

Kyle then did a stance, about to prepare punching the kid. But before even giving him a throw, the boy flinched and cover himself up with his arms.

"Damn, what a pussy," Stan said.

"Ay! I ain't no pussy!," he shouted, his fist were clenched, and his cheeks were red with embarrassment, frowning his face.

"Go on," Kenny tune in, finally fully focusing on the boy, an eye brow raised.

"W-well.. you guys are a bunch of assholes! Fuck you guys!."

"Okay, okay," the blonde boy raised his hands, grinning from ear to ear, "and what am I?," he closed his eyes putting a hand in one of his ears waiting for the correct answer.

"A poor piece of shit!," the boy in question exclaimed, "you're a stupid hippie. That only -" he points at Stan. And continued bashing on all three of us.

Stan and Kenny were grinning widely while Kyle felt a little sting is his chest.

They found their Cartman.

[...]

Cartman on the other hand had been laying down on the living room couch, with a very thin blanket as the environment he was in was already quite warm. Atleast for what his father had explained to him. The weather is only based on just two season changes. Summer and 'winter'. Summer is burning hell, winter it's freezing hell as if it were wanting to snow in literal hell, but it never does. Ofcourse, they were in summer when he had arrived, and it'll be like that for the next eight months.

The TV was on and it was kinda late at night for what he supposed called 'hell hour'. Their night time.

His eyelids were half lifted, tired. He won't deny the first few days spending time with his dad we're great, with the exception of the crappy so called 'food' he made, it was just too.. let's say bland 'healthy'. Unlike his mom's amazing cooking nothing could compare. But he had adapted to it very quickly as Jack had promised him to go out for some yummy foods as a 'treat'. He supposed he could endure the torture for a couple more days as long as he was still able to play with all his video games.

But the more the clock ticks the more bored he gets, the more un-patience he gets. Jack also wasn't always home compared to his mother. He had work, and had explained to him this is how he owns such nice things and keeps things in check under 'their' rooftop. He was barely home, and not only that he'd come back with lady friends and takes them to bed with him, claiming they were there for business. What he's not aware of, is that he's already very familiar with the so called 'business' before. His mother has finally mellow down on it but this prick doesn't seem on ending it anytime soon as some college freshman.

He had guessed his former wife had ended up in heaven as she is no longer in the picture and the man never mentions her. Taking this as a opportunity to sleep around with as many women he could get, just like with his mother. He frown by the thought.

He sigh, as he knows better than to knock on the grown man's door. He knew he had taken a lady friend with him inside, he didn't even bother glancing at him before taking her inside. So he layyed there. In that silent room, all by himself hearing the TV noises slowly being blocked by his brain.

He missed south park.

He missed his friends, and his bitch of a mom.

He closed his eyes. And then he jolted back up.

'That's it!' He exclaimed to himself.

He went through all the pages of the books Jack had brought, claiming they could 'help' which he never bother bringing up again cause he was distracting Eric with other cool more interesting stuff than returning him back to South park. For Eric's surprise they were a bunch of cooking recipes 'nothing of actual use!', he frown angrily. 'That motherfucker!' Literally.

He quietly tip toe to another shelf and started going through each individual book but found nothing. He was getting desperate as he was wondering how could Jack keep that information from him when it was literally the whole reason he found him for.

Then, when he was about to give up a green book had ended up smacking his head 'ow!', it had fell from above the shelf. But there was something special about that book that made him peek inside. There was code written in the back part of the book. He wondered where to use it for but was immediately answered as he look at the front cover. It was the best hint.

He slowly open the front door to sneak out and successfully do so. He ran trough each hall way of that huge building and had entered the elevator tapping a button for the ground floor.

He waited patiently, and had entered the shallow hallway. The book was titled 'room fith'.

He open the room and for his luck, it was opened. Everything was empty, a plain green painted room. He stood there confused thinking in 'what' he had calculated wrong.

Before 'snap!' The ground open immediately letting him fall straight into some cushions. The fall didn't feel so deep. But the whole secrecy makes it all skeptical, as if there's something to hide.

He looked around the small room, it was adorned with many satanic symbols, candles, glasses with sand and there were plenty of papers spread in the floors like rituals. He examine each one and approach the table that had many finished and unfinished work. Building plans, maps from areas of hell he hasn't heard of. He figured this was all work of his father as he can recall his writing from the small notes he had left him in the counter before heading for work explaining how to use certain things of the kitchen and wishing him a 'have a nice hell day' before adding 'you're not allowed to go outside'. Kinda controlling not gonna lie.

He flipped through plans and saw many other rituals of summoning. Who knows, he may be able to summon Kyle here? He snorted of the thought of pissing his friend off by bringing him to hell.

But then stop his tracks when he looked under the table to find a small safe, his eyes widen at the revelation 'this is it! This is were he's supposed to add the code.'

"What're you doing there champ?."

He jolted scared turning into the opposite direction.

Jack was smirking slightly while having his arms cross.

"Guess you're enjoying the tour huh," he approached slowly stopping three steps away from Eric.

The boy gulped felling this huge uneasy felling between them, sweating uncontrollably. He felt small for the first time in his whole life, looking at the older man's eyes.

Before being knocked out.

[...]

He opened his eyes and felt his arms tied to a wooden surface unable to move, he notice once adjusting his vision that he was in fact tied up in a chair. He freaked out, this feels oddly familiar.

He then turned his gaze upwards looking straight ahead. Seeing his father sitting down in a couch from that same room, arms were cross around his chest, man spreading but his gaze was straight towards him. He gulped once more. 'He really looks like Scott right now'.

Jack immediately lightened up once he saw Eric awake, he then proceeded to speak.

"Oh, Eric you're awake!," he beamed, forcing a cheerful tone. He didn't want the boy to realize how disappointed he was for catching him trying to escape, "look, Eric, I'm not gonna hurt you," he tried justifying his actions while he stood up.

"You knock me out and tied me into a chair you crazy bitch!."

"BECAUSE someone decided to bash in a forbidden area," Jack defended, he disliked the naming but bit his tongue.

"Cause you lied to me of helping me get out! Those books you brought were all cooking recipes!."

"Well, yes, they will be of help once you're older, champ! I didn't lie," the red head continued explaining while searching through his drawer, "Eric I want you to know that I'm just doing this for the best for you."

The boy remained silent which gave Tenorman the opportunity to continue reasoning.

"I want you to be able to accomplish your goals, I want you to become successful and I want you to be able to follow my steps in hell."

"What? Fuck that! I don't want to be a business man!."

"Eric, I see so much potential in you and have no plans on letting you waste it like your brother."

Eric froze by the mentioned of Scott.

"Unless you'd prefer ending up living in a old dusty hotdog like your mother lead you too?," Jack said with a blank face showing a couple of prints that had many, and I meant many incidents involving Cartman, "When you first approached me, that same night I made a huge search and found so much information on you, Eric, so, so much. You're quite a special boy," he added with a little hum.

"Scott has lost all his marbles, and as hard it is to admit it. I don't see him giving a good name for the Tenormans."

"Fuck the Tenormans! I'm no Tenorman!."

"But you are, Eric," there was a glint of greed in those eyes, something that made Eric's skin scrawled, "in fact, you're more of a Tenorman than a Cartman," he took out a scrapbook from the left side of his drawer.

He flipped through it and stopped in one, deciding to show the boy what was in it.

It was a old newspaper with a young man, probably in his mid-thirties he had ginger looking features but it looked like him, a way older version of him. He had a smirk on while being dragged by cops in the picture, his features resemble pure chaotic vibes. You just knew by seeing a glance of this man, he was trouble.

The article had titled 'psycho man rigged presidential election'. Eric gulped again.

"That's your great grandfather," he then picked up another of his prints, "you know who also tried rigging a presidential election?," Jack added smirking while showing a picture of Cartman and the head of Disney along of millions of election votes.

He then showed him another article, he so called great grandfather was standing next to three other boys picking on one in peculiar, he supposed a friend. He seemed jewish as he had a star of david necklace on him. This article had nothing too chaotic on it, they just use those four teens as an example of 'what not to be'.

Then his dad showed him a picture of his three friends and himself. One where he was in fact, taunting his jewish friend.

He sigh.

"Okay? That means nothing! I want to get back home!."

"That's the thing, Eric, you're not," Jack said, calming placing delicately the scrap on top of the drawer, "I'm protecting you, by the evil of yourself, the evil of your great grandfather's soul on you and the evil of your mother's influence," he pointed, sitting back down comfortably in the couch.

"I'll actually put of good use of your skill and potentials, someone like you Eric should always waste their potential in something actually beneficial than to just fuck around with," Jack lit up a cigar while he continued his rant, "that's what your great grandfather did wrong, and that's what you're doing wrong. Putting your motives and desires into unbeneficial things, un important things. And for what? Just for a three second laugh before being dragged away to jail or to a 'pyscho ward'?," he denied with his head looking at his expensive shoes, smiling after emphasizing his last sentence.

"You mother fucker.." Eric murmured finally realized what the ginger meant, Jack smirked in understanding, "Scott.. he didn't just go crazy because of what I did, he was already going crazy before I enter his life I just pushed him forward to actually snap!," the boy exclaimed scared.

"Ding ding ding!," Jack nodded happily, "see, you're very smart."

Cartman really wanted to go, run away and hide himself under the warm covers of his bed, under his mother's care far away from this crazy bitch!

Jack had left claiming he'd get him some food.

There he was just sitting there afraid, he really prayed for a miracle, just one more miracle in literal hell!

He closed his eyes tight trying to imagine himself being just trapped in a really bad nightmare.

The boy found the switch in personalities amusing, as it were so sudden and unexpected. In a blink of an eye the man that was seen as a caring cool father turned into a crazy psychotic lunatic! He really started missing his mom.

He felt himself uncomfortable felling the ropes being sunken in his flesh, hurting him and he felt having cramps in his calves, it hurted like hell and he couldn't do anything about it. He began crying outta desperation.

Then, he felt a buzz in his ears once more 'guys?'

His eyes lit up.

"Is there someone there?," he asked sniffing his snot back inside as it was running down his mouth.

"Cartman?."

"Kyle?," the brunette boy smile, 'there was still hope after all!'

"Kahl! You gotta help me! Kahl!," the boy cried with no shame. It isn't unusual for him to seek help from his ginger friend when he had fucked up and needed help solving it, "I can't! I'm all tied up and I-I-! Bwaaahh!!!," he cried louder.

"Okay, Cartman calm down!," his friend responded, "what happened? Is everything okay?."

"No! Nothings okay you stupid fuck!," the chubby boy eyes were all puffed up and red, while he felt his throat dry up, "this fucker lied to me! He lieeed!"

"Who lied to you?," he didn't hear Kyle ask as he cut him off continuing explaining his current situation.

"I need help! I'm tied up in 'jak n off' hotel in room five the ground floor! I'm at the bottom!," He cried once again, between breaths he hold back tears, he was freaking out. He was scared, and he was alone.

Then snapped back nervously when he heard a door open from behind him.

"Hey, Eric. I got you some grilled cheese sandwiches in hopes for you to cheer up a bit, my little future super star," said Jack beaming mimicking his mother's tone, it had sent shivers down the boy's spine, "I don't want you gaining too much weight though, or you'll be seen as a piggy for the rest of your life. And no one, likes, pigs."

"Cartman? Are you still there? Cartman!?," he heard his friend's voice.

He remained silent not trying to reveal his last only solution outta this mess, blocking also Tenorman's hurtful words.

"Why Eric! Look at you, you look like a mess," Jack put the sandwiches aside while running to his drawer and taking out a box of tissues and wipes. He then approached the boy and started wiping his face. Cleaning all remaining leftover tears and the snot that had started to dry up in his mouth.

[...]

"Dude, how the hell are we gonna go find Cartman if he's in hell," Stan exclaimed confused about his best friend's claims.

"The only solution is one of us dying," Kyle said with a frown, determinant on finding cartman.

"Dude!?," the latter responded with a brow raised and his arms raised in 'wtf', "dude I don't want to die! There's so much I want to do" looking at the ground thinking about the thousands of board games he hasn't played yet.

"Yeah, me neither!," exclaimed, Tobias.

Kenny remained silent staring at the red head.

"No one has to die, but me," Kyle spoke, he lowered his gaze. He knew it was risky, "I'm offering myself to do it," but it was worth the shot.

"Kyle that's the most crazy shit I've ever heard you say!."

"It's the only way! Nothing else has worked!."

"No, I'll do it."

The three boys turned their head towards Kenny. He had a frown and he seemed to not fear losing anything. Cause he wouldn't.

Kenny had already tried getting back into hell, dying various times to see if he could find Cartman but for some reason he hasn't been able to get a hold of the underground world. Waking back to life the next day. As in some sorta temporary limbo.

"That's okay, Kenny," Kyle reassured with a smile," I know you have your siblings to care of.. and well, I know Ike would have my mom and dad to take care of him, just in case I don't come back."

"Kyle, I'll do it. Eric is my best friend after all," Kyle's words was heartwarming but he wasn't gonna risk losing another friend.

Kyle frown reconsidering it. He then proceeded to nod.

They had left the Marsh residence as they wanted to be as far as possible from any witnesses, they went inside the weed 'garden'.

They found a solid ground far away from the farm. Atleast enough for a bullet to not be able to hear from a distance.

They got into a circle and Kenny stood in middle of the three.

He took the gun out, and pulled the trigger with not even a second thought. But there was nothing, just a small click everytime he pulled the trigger.

"What the fuck?," the blond asked confused looking up at Kyle.

"Sorry, Kenny I couldn't let you do that," his friend stated before pulling out a gun out of his jacket and pointed at his head 'that crazy son of a bitch' Kenny thought eyes wide open in panic, "here goes nothing," 'BANG' was all he heard before hearing the other two boys scream.

"Kyle no!," Stan shouted with his hands gripped into his head staring at his now dead friend, his face covered in Kyle's blood, "Jesus christ!!."

"Holy fuck," the brunette boy said horrified, "you guys are crazy! I no longer want to be part of this stupid group!," he screamed horrified before dashing away no longer looking back.

[...]

"¡AHHH!," Kyle found himself screaming while falling straight into what it seems to be lava. He looked upwards meeting with a pair of people staring at him. Is he really in hell right now? Fuck, he needed to start behaving once he's back in south park. He got up and managed to get out of the pit with ease.

He looked around, people forming circles partying here and there. There was lights everywhere even though it was pretty much lit already. Stores, buildings even food stands. 'No wonder that fat fuck didn't complain about being hungry' he thought to himself. Hell didn't seem bad at all! Well with the exception of the public torture displayed in front of him, he didn't seemed to mind it as much as he felt he should. What the literal hell?

He went to what appeared to be a big wooden cartel for new hell residents with the instructions on how to get back in their feet and their new purposes and do's, 'fuck that', he went where there was a map with all the locations needed to know. Also, pamphlets. He picked one and opened it. He recall Cartman mentioning a hotel called 'jak n off' and pursued following the directions given.

He then stood in front of a yellow building.

Okay, first instruction checked. Now, room fifth of the ground floor. But he stopped before doing any further action. He recalled his friend claiming there was someone with him 'what if they're still there?' He thought before considering a different approach.

Meanwhile...

"Holy shit, Kenny! What do we do!?," Stan said in panic, gesturing the other boy's dead body.

"Okay, Stan. Just listen carefully," the blonde had his right hand as a 'stop' gesturing to calm down.

He saw his friend breathing heavily, closing his eyes trying to regulate his heartbeat and breathing.

'he's just a crazy as Cartman!' That realization made the boy's eyes widen, "Holy shit," He spoke, now gripping into Kenny shoulders while the other boy flinched by the sudden action, "that was just as crazy level as Cartman!," he exclaimed his concerns.

Kenny loosen up from the grip before picking Kyle's body from head to shoulder. He gesture with his head for the other boy to help him with the other half.

Stan hesitated a bit but followed through.

"Fuck."

[...]

"Hmhm hmm!," Jack nodded repeatedly when he had finished re-dressing his off spring. He had bought him a little business suite the other day but had found this time appropriate to give.

The boy had refused and complained when the man attempted to take his clothes off but then failed immediately from his strength. 'Something beneficial from being a Denver bronco' he thought. He proceeded to submit.

Once back tied in the chair, his father turned him around being front of a large mirror.

'Ofcourse he was handsome' but he did not like being force to do things against his own will.

"Eric Tenorman," the man spoke with pride, "doesn't that just sound right?."

Eric gulped. He hated that name.

"Look at you, looking like a professional business man already!," he beamed again, "I'll be right back I'm gonna go fetch some wine."

"When are you planning to untie me!?," the boy wince when he saw a spider slowly going down on him.

A laugh as it were a joke was made, "oh, Eric," he then walked out.

None long after he had heard a loud 'thump' from behind him, he looked instead in the mirror and his eyes widen of excitement.

"Kahal!"

"Cartman?," the boy asked while standing up, he had fallen down from the cushions, ass straight to the ground, "Holy shit, dude! You alright?," he asked approaching him, he proceeded to untie the boy.

Kyle looked around a bit and proceeded to look at the boy that was stretching his back. He heard some cracking and popping.

'He looked like shit'

"We have to get outta here!," Cartman said before dragging Kyle from hand to hand outta the dark room. He was grateful he manage to see how his father summoned a door. But he stopped returning to the safe and grabbing the book and papers that were in there, once again gripping onto Kyle's hands dragging him out.

Once they were safe. They had ran out of the building, running towards the entrance of hell through the amount of new people that had arrived, and found themselves hidden behind 'Sussie's Buttocks' club.

Cartman sigh and Kyle just watched him with a frown brow.

With out further warning Cartman hugged the boy tight leaving Kyle speechless tensing his shoulders and his hands were up in the air unable to figure out if to correspond or just let the boy finish. He decided the second option.

"Thank you, Kyle! You came! I can't believe it!."

The boy loosen up the tension he had felt on his shoulders and just kept silent, letting his arch rival embrace him with his warmth. He could feel Cartman's rapid heart beat.

"Just so you know, I'm just here cause I couldn't stand your replacement," he said finally getting out of the boy's grip.

"Ay! You guys replace me already!?," Cartman protested angry while pouting.

The ginger smirked. With out realizing he felt himself hugging the boy tight. 'Fuck, he actually missed him', he buried his head under Cartman's shoulders as he felt him tense.

Kyle then let go, gazing at Cartman who had his eyes widen and the most heated red cheeks, mouth agape 'he looked gay' he thought. The boy then proceeded to lean towards him causing Cartman to panic as he weakly slapped him backwards snapping him out to his senses.

"Okay so who are we hiding from?," the red head spoke while he dust off the dirt on his jacket.

"Jack Tenorman."

Kyle's attention back to Cartman, in shock, "your dad?."

He nodded before vomiting. Everthing was all so overwhelming. Everthing his father revealed, his great grandfather and how home sick he felt, how much he missed his friends and mom. His insides twisted as he felt shivers all over him.

He made sure to point at Kyle's seamlessly new shoes though

"Ow gross, dude!."

[...]

Kenny found himself desperately wanting to go to hell but no matter how much he tried, he just couldn't. As if there were something blocking him by going.

He sigh, legs crossed next to Kyle's rotten body, flies piling up around him. He and Stan had hid themselves in Randy's shed. They weren't certain if to burry him or not so they toss him in there while both took turns checking outside for any future witnesses which they failed miserably because Stan's dad had went for a quick smoke hidding from Sharon, and looked at them, glancing at both boys before looking at Kyle 'ohhh' he murmured, both brows were raised before closing the door slowly, leaving.

Kenny then took out the ouija board and place it in the ground. Might aswell try to contact Kyle.

"Any luck?," Stan asked wincing from the smell that was coming out of his best friend.

"No," Kenny tried cutting some more blood out of his wrist, carefully not making the wound any deeper. They needed a living mortal's blood to be able to contact the dead.

"Do you think he went to heaven?."

"Nah, man. You really think one of us will end up there after the amount of shit we've down?," he had went to heaven before but it was a one time thing, after he started simply caring less about his deaths he became bolder and is no longer admitted into heaven.

Besides he recalled Kyle unintentionally killing a bunch of Canadians that was enough reason to be sent to hell.

"Good point."

Cartman and Kyle found themselves looking through rituals and plans, they inspected the book while Kyle flipped through pages then stopped pointing at one.

"Here 'lay the one and only chosen one for the path to open, a bright light as blindfold being turned to one'," then continued reading the next paragraph, " 'the second gripped to life, will become sacrifice to give light as they are two'."

"What's that supposed to mean?."

"As they are two.." Kyle reread trying to add sense to what was written, brows knitted together, "that's it," He said looking at the drawings of two men one represented death, the other life. While life was seen switching places with death.

He flipped through the rest of the pages reading new paragraphs and prophecies.

'Misplace the two bounded souls and fear it's wrath between worlds, as they are one'

'Life and death which are shown to be bounded by a soul'

'Death is life, life is death, a curse forming in between them as the new bounded soul is created'

He flipped through the next page and eyes widen. It was a drawing of Kenny and Cartman. 'Holy shit'

"Did you find anything?," Cartman asked while laying down on his stomach, making paper airplanes with the loose pages that were spread on the floor as he had gotten bored.

"Well, there you are my special little boy."

Both boys gasped turning around while they got up, Kyle having gripped the book on his chest. He walked backwards placing an arm on Cartman backing away slowly shielding him

'Cartman was our way out' he told himself, justifying his actions as if it were the first time he found himself protecting the fat fuck. Which it wasn't.

Jack stood there with his arms crossed behind his back, grinning eyeing the book then looking back at Kyle.

"I see you brought a friend to play, Eric," he took a pistol out from the inside of his suite pocket.

Both dashed outta there running through the multiple people that were all formed in circles. Hearing Tenorman shout from a far 'Ay! come back here!'

'Like father like son'.

Kyle panted hardly while trying to grasp some air, Cartman was knocked out cold on the floor. Hopefully they were far enough from Tenorman.

A buzzing feeling in his ear caught his attention, he held it because of the intense pain it did as if that were gonna stop it. Blood trailing down his cheek he looked at the hand he had held himself with 'my ear is bleeding'.

"Kyle?," the boy in question jolted.

"Kenny!?"

"Dude finally! We were worried sick for you!."

"Is he there? Kyle? Are you there!? You crazy piece of shit! Jesus christ!," Stan chimed in," are you alright? Did you find Cartman?."

"Yeah, he's right here," he looked at the boy that was now trying to stand up. He offered a hand while the boy reached out and was pull up to his feet again. He looked tired, uncharacteristically tired. It gave Kyle an uneasy feeling as he remembered what he had read 'Misplace the two bounded souls and fear it's wrath between worlds, as they are one' he assumed Cartman may be 'life'.

"Okay cool, have you guys find a way out?."

"Is that the hippie?," Cartman asked finally paying attention to the buzzy feeling of his own ears.

"Yeah.." Kyle whispered more to himself than to anyone else, "Kenny?"

"Yeah? I'm here dude."

"Look this is gonna sound crazy but,"

'Bang'

"¡AAH!," Kyle looked at Cartman who had screamed in horror, then looked at his now wounded chest half lifted eyes before feeling his legs weakened.

'Fuck' was the only thing that came out before knocking out on the floor.

'Kyle!?'

'Kyle!?'

'Kyle!'

The boy slowly felt himself waking up by the sound of Stan's voice rumbling in his ears. He grunted, feeling sharp pains in his chest were he was previously shot, but managed to stand up.

He looked at his hands an feet, then his chest. It seemed to have healed as if it never happened 'had he dreamt it?' He looked around and found himself in the entrance of hell once more. Cartman was no longer at sight.

"Fuck," he frown 'this was being dragged too much', "Kenny, are you there?."

"Yeah man, what happened? We lost you for like an hour!."

"An hour? Holy shit.. okay, Kenny. I'm not crazy but I think you're 'death'."

"What."

"Yeah. I have a satanic looking book on me that has you drawn in here stating that you're bound into a soul."

"W-what?.."

"Yeah.. as crazy as it sounds but you're bonded. Not only are you bounded but to Cartman of all people."

"What!?," he heard both friends shout in unison.

"Look I don't know much for sure, but that's what I've gotten from what's written here. It says we need both of you to be able to get out."

"But how? I'm not allowed in hell."

"What?," he found himself confused by that comment but shrugged it off, "look 'the chosen soul must be into one of understanding to open a door through life and death' i- I honestly got lost by that point," Kyle admitted nodding to himself.

" 'The chosen soul must be into one of understanding to open a door through life and death..'," Kenny found himself repeating the words. He frowned.

Cartman and him were bounded.. but how? But why? Life and death. If he was death that makes Cartman life. Which having him in the underworld makes it not possible to be 'life'.

Death.. death is life. Which would makes sense if he were to die and revive.

Would that mean switching places with Cartman? As he found himself in life and he in death. All this is messing up his mind.

Would that mean what's been blocking him from both heaven and hell and keeping him in a sorta limbo state is because he's slowly becoming life? And Cartman..

'fuck'

"Kenny?," Stan's voice snapped him back.

"We need to find a way to bring Cartman back and quick!."

The chubby boy felt his body weakened while he was carried by his father. He had taken him to the rooftop of the building he owned while gripping tight with steel chains his wrists and legs into some torture table he had put there.

Half lifted eyes stared to the ground. He felt like shit.

His father stood there with clasped hands eyeing him everywhere as he was some golden trophy, as he were just waiting for something. But he couldn't grasp what it was.

"Did I ever mentioned you that Liane was part of a cult?," spoke Jack.

Cartman just kept silent as he began coughing badly.

The grown man walked towards him taking out a tissue from his pocket cleaning some of the trail blood he had cough out 'the fuck!?'

"When I first met your mother it wasn't at some stupid party your town folks had told you about. I met her in a cult meeting. I was young and was told they will be free booze," He reveal while fixing the boys now untied tie, "we felt attraction immediately and bonded over the fact that we were both there for booze, laugh it off and things just lead to an other," continued while shrugging.

Cartman found himself feeling his muscles spasm.

"I'm the good guy Eric! I would've never asked for this to have happen to you if I knew," he then place his hand onto his chest as an innocent demeanor, "your mother is to blame."

"The thing is, unlike me, Liane ended up getting too into the cult meeting and had unintentionally set herself up with two other soon to be parents, she had dragged me in, unaware of what would happened. She found it silly and fun and I found it a little creepy but followed through cause I was just too wasted to care about the odd rituals the other members were putting us in 'everthing for a piece of that' I kept telling myself."

The boy cut him off he began to have various seizures that lasted for up to three seconds before repeating itself, he felt his mouth grasping for air and being choked by his own saliva. His fingers twitched and his feet curled.

"And then, months after, you were born," unfazed the man wiped the saliva off his cheeks, "ofcourse by the time you were born I had no longer any contact with Liane and that so called meeting became a fuzzy memory for me."

"But, Eric," he approached the boy, face to face, "this, it's life changing," the boy heard while still trying to grasp for air, his vision long gone as it became blurry.

"Imagine, a Tenorman being able to switch in between worlds! Being able to use this curse and becoming one of the most powerful beings on both worlds," He ranted for himself, with every word being said his eyes dilated. Malicious, greed, selfishness surfacing, "not being able to die! HaHA! We'd be unstoppable!."

'Bang'

Tenorman fell into the floor.

Kyle then reloaded his shotgun while two other boys stood next to him.

"Stan help me with Cartman!," Kenny order running towards the almost unconscious boy. Stan nodded following.

They had manage to summon Satan while being in the upper world. Luckily Satan owed Stan a favor and it was just all convenient.

They managed to release Cartman by pressing a button that was place under the table with the label 'release' on it.

Kenny held the boy who convulsions worsened.

"Eric can you hear me?."

"K-kinny? Dammit kinny! Get out my death sequence," the boy complained even though his eyes looked elsewhere.

"You're not gonna die fat boy! You're already in hell."

"Oh, right," His body stiffened trying his best to take control but failed miserably once more, "how's it going?."

The comment made the blonde boy cracked a smile, "look Eric," he gently caress cartman's hair.

'That's gay' he heard the boy remark but ignored it.

"It'll be hard to believe this.. but I die," Kenny revealed, "like all the time," he sigh, feeling the glances of his other two friends on him.

"I know."

Kenny's eyes widen, "no, like I mean it, I die all the time!."

"I know," his chubby friend frown feeling stupid by hearing his best friend seemingly finding it hard for him to remember the obvious. And because of the condition he's in 'duh' he didn't feel like arguing, "I can tell you death by death, each and single one with detail and date."

Kenny was left with his mouth opened, speechless, he couldn't believe it. 'Is he really telling the truth or is he fucking with me?' All this time he's been looking for someone atleast one person that could remember. And he was there all along infront of him, someone he least expected.

"And you didn't bother on telling me!?," Kenny said angry, he felt his eyes water.

Cartman twitch in his arms, "nobody seemed to mentioned anything, and you never asked. I figured it may have been a bad dream or not as important cause nobody seem to believe me the few times I did mention it, they all looked at me weird as it I we're delusional," the boy admitted.

Now that he thought about it. The times he has admitted to someone about his curse, Cartman was never present. Which meant he had never given the opportunity to answer him. And when he mentioned it he was either dead or not around to tell.

Like if it were intentional for both boys to not be able to share this moment until now.

"You know what's messed up?," cartman's voice snapped him back, he had a weak smile plastered, "I began to be so use to it, it was easy to use your deaths. Like the time you were in the death bed or the time I had convinced everyone it would be best to disconnect you to have your psp, or being able to better my vision stealing one of your eyes, I knew you'd come back, you always did."

Kenny's eyes sparked in amusement 'he really did remember'.

"But the first few times.. kinny they were horrifying, I still feel uneasy but it isn't as before," his body twitch some more while he complained about the pain in his arms and legs, "I remember the rats eating your flesh, I remember trying to shoo them away cause you still weren't dead."

Kenny watched his friend with such warmth as if it were a cute tale he was retelling.

"The time Kyle killed you with a chainsaw," 'I what?' They heard their ginger friend asked confused but ignored it, "being killed by a bull, eaten by some pterodactyl, by oral sex, squished, run over," the boy shaked, the pain decreasing the more closer he got to kenny. On the other hand kenny was feeling immense warmth in his chest, like literal fire. 'Hell, It's really burning!'

Kenny remembered always being close in a certain way with Cartman, they even were once trapped together by his soul because the stupid idiot had eaten his ashes.

He glance down at Cartman who had let his head fall into his lap, smiling. 'This was kinda gay' he thought.

He felt the boy latching on to him, and he won't deny he felt the sudden urge to do the same which he unintentionally did. The burning sensation in his chest increased the pain, becoming unbearable 'fuuuuuck!'

On the other hand Cartman never felt more peaceful in Kenny's arms, he felt like he was in the clouds and couldn't recall why the sensation just felt like he was falling but there was no fear of an impact just comfort with in the clouds and sky.

Stan and Kyle didn't bare interrupt the two boys as they knew it was needed to get out and Kenny knew how to do it but they couldn't help feeling a little discomfort as this felt intimate and private. Atleast for Stan it wasn't displeasing just disturbing while with Kyle it was the opposite. He found the boys sudden closeness displeasing he just didn't know why.

Sudden the back door sling open reveling Jack. Kyle prepared his gun and pointed at him making him stop in his tracks.

"You guys don't know what're you're doing! Fuck, ¡no!," He exclaimed once he saw Kenny holding on to Cartman and vice-versa. He knew there was no longer takes back as their ritual bound was already in the stages of ending.

The two boys burst into flames seemingly showing no response to it. Atleast from Cartman's part, internally for Kenny it was a pain in the ass but he didn't show it. Sweat begin to pop up in his skin and his nails digged up in Cartman's suit, wincing his eyes shut.

Their silloette formed a door which proceeded to opened.

"Dude! I think it's the portal!," Stan exclaimed getting near it, while Kyle shot Tenorman in the head once more before following Stan. Not after glancing at Kenny and Cartman before jumping through the portal.

Cartman then layyed down flat finally letting go of Kenny. The blonde watched him while he started twisting in pain 'this is it' he then looked at Cartman, suddenly understanding before proceeding to enter the portal, finally vanishing.

Kenny sigh as he turned into ashes finally dying.

[...]

"Morning dudes," Kenny salute, beaming. He was in a good mood after all.

"Sup Kenny," Stan greeted.

"Hey Kenny," Kyle added.

"Cartman hasn't arrived yet?."

"That fat fuck probably forgot to turn his alarm on," the red head spoke with a yawn.

"Or, he did set an alarm but ignored it," Stan added.

"Either sound possible."

Not long after Cartman got on the bus greeting them.

"Hey dipshits!," he proceeded to take a seat next to Kenny who grinned at him, "so how you guys dealing after the hell incident?," he asked.

Stan and Kyle just raised a brow confused.

"What're you talking about, fatass?," Kyle then added while frowning not wanting to deal with Cartman's shit again this early in the morning.

"Yeah, dude, you alright?," Stan chimed in.

Kenny stared at Cartman still beaming while he saw the bigger boy's face turned in disbelief.

"Dude! I literally died a horrible death not long ago! Remember? Hell!? Kyle you literally went to save me!," he screamed.

"Did he also came in a shining armor?," Stan teased while both best friends, then, howl in laughter.

Cartman pouted bitterly. Kenny put a hand on his shoulder understanding well enough the feeling. The boy glance at him.

"Welcome to the club," he smiled.

Cartman looked up at the two boys infront of him that still found themselves laughing then looked at Kenny, smiling back.

"This sucks ass."

They both chuckled.

[...]

Kyle found himself approaching Cartman while they were entering the school entrance.

"Hey, fatass."

"What up," the fat boy answered while he took out his phone.

"About me saving you did I also bring a sword?," he bite his upper lip before bursting into laughter.

"Ha ha very funny Kahal," the boy said bitterly, "actually not only did you showed up in a shining armor, a sword, but you also kissed me on the lips as I was the damsel in distress." honestly was not the best combat but it was the first thing that came into spot. He wasn't planning to let Kyle have the last word after feeling still bitter about the red head not recalling the previous events.

Kyle was left baffled by that. For some reason Cartman's stupidity was beyond compression but the mystical accusation left him speechless.

Cartman had already proceeded on leaving to class but Kyle just stood there blank hearing a small noise in his ears that kinda sounded like 'hootie and the blowfish'.

In class Kenny had both his hands clenched, excited. He never felt more happy knowing someone does remember! Not only that, but the bound ritual just made their bound strengthen, as he watched Cartman knowing the other boy felt the same. He knew the feelings were true cause he felt it, they both felt each other when their soul united once more 'as gay as that sounds'. Cartman looked back at him sharing that same beaming felling before returning to bother Wendy interrupting her speech with slurs an unwanted opinions.

He always felt alone knowing no one remember him dying, an as much as he had his moments despising Cartman there was now this warmth comforting feeling that someone other than him knew, even if it were a bigot like Cartman. It's not like he could complain much after all, they will be forever bounded by a soul so there's no preventing being connected to one an other.

But he'd care less, he wasn't alone no more.

He smiled once again, he's been feeling all giggly all morning, he just couldn't help it. He was happy and today was just a nice super fantastic day.

School had ended as the bell rang.

The four boys walked with each other discussing what they'll do this evening as a squad.

"What about boar-"

"Stan, I swear to God if you say 'board games' once more I'll kill myself," Cartman interrupted by grunting.

Stan frowned.

"No offense dude, but Cartman's right. We've been playing boards games three times in a row for weeks," Kyle chimed in.

Kenny nodded. He knew Stan had developed a new obsession with board games when he moved to the farm and starting hanging out with Tolkien, which we didn't seem to mind much, but it had gotten boring being repeated multiple times everytime they hang out.

"What about cards?," the blonde suggested.

"Same shit," Cartman rolled his eyes with that.

Is that 'hootie and the blowfish' they began hearing in the background?

"Does anyone hear that?," Stan asked looking around.

"No," Kyle quickly stated.

"Anyways, what about basketball?," Cartman suggested while putting his attention on the others, his hands gripped on to his waist.

"You know what? That doesn't sound like a bad idea Cartman," Stan agreed while turning his focus onto Kyle who seemed kinda spaced out.

"Hm?," the boy said before barfing on Cartman.

'BLEEEEARGH!'

"Ah! Gross dude! Wtf Kahl!?," he wince disgusted wiping off the barf from his jacket, "disgusting!," he kept complaining.

"Sorry!."

"Woah dude," Stan exclaimed.

"I think breakfast didn't do me too well," the boy explained while rubbing his stomach, nauseous.

"Fuck you! You're so fucking disgusting!," Cartman kept rambling angry while walking off, seemingly going home, "ew! Screw you guys I'm going home."

"Sorry, Cartman!," Kyle apologized once more before returning his attention to the others, "so is basketball still on the list?."

"Hell yeah."

Cartman not long after joined the other three with a new jacket staying farther away from Kyle claiming that he didn't want the ginger to barf on him again which the boy rolled his eyes from and Stan calling him out a 'pussy' while continuing playing the game.

It was a nice evening with the four boys peacefully enjoying their company as everthing had turned back to normal.

#south park #eric cartman #kenny mccormick #kyle broflovski #stan marsh #kyman #-ish #sp one-shot #i always loved the idea to jack being a sneaky psychopath behind hes family back #after all they do say genetic plays a huge role when it comes to psychopaths mostly from the father side #idk just found it fun? #a went a little rush at the end but I didn't intend for it to be long #in explanation in Kenny and Cartman #Kenny's is the door into life and Cartman's the door into hell ironically being contrasted in what they are 'life' and 'death' kinda silly #im so tired that they're alot of typos in my tags which im too lazy to fix srry

[writtengalaxies]

Roommates

Characters: Murdock, GN!Reader

Word Count: 771

Spicy Rating: Some talk of depression and death.

You came to, head feeling fuzzy. Your day had been terrible, and now you were met with dim lighting and plastic tarps all up in your apartment. Part of you knew you should be terrified, but at this point, what did it matter? Sure, you were tied to a chair and the plastic was a sure sign it was the Serotonin Killer, but...what did it matter?

The man himself stepped around into sight, clearly waiting until you woke up to greet you in what should have been the last panic-filled moments of your life. The small knife he played with, the small, self-assured smile. All of it was part of the act of making the simple things made horrifying. However, your expression gave him pause.

"What...?"

You sighed, slouching more in the chair. "Just, close the door when you're done. The neighbors don't need to see that."

His head tilted, and even though he wore dark shades, you could tell he was sizing you up. "...Well, now all the fun's gone out of it." You bark a short laugh, frustrated that you'd even fail at getting murdered. That just made his smile dip into a small frown, crouching to be closer to eye level with you. "Do...you need someone to talk to?"

Your laugh must have been near hysterical for him to continue to look at you like that. Hell, he had even removed his sunglasses. Of course he'd be attractive.

"How pathetic I have to be," you spat, "that a murderer is asking me if I need someone to talk to. You want the list? I got laid off last week, can't get hired anywhere, spent the last of my savings on fast food without a plan, my house is a fucking mess...and that's before the depression! So yeah, maybe my life is a little fucked right now!"

He blinked, moving closer with his knife out. In moments, the zip ties holding you in place were cut, and he sheathed the blade somewhere you couldn't see. He even sat in front of you, his thumbs working gentle circles over where the ties had bit down, trying to lessen the angry marks. "It sounds like you're stressed out. What did you used to do for work?"

You figured this was just another way the killer played with his victims. Not like anyone ever asked before, or had reached out to help you. Even if he was lulling you into a false sense of security, at least someone would know all this.

His deep, quiet voice was soothing, and your own angry tears exhausted you as you talked with him for what felt like hours. You could feel yourself growing more and more tired, laughing softly to yourself.

"What is it?"

"Just...you're a good listener. You're...you're a much better person than...than this." You gesture vaguely at all the plastic, watching as he smiles, a soft little thing. "Kind of wish you'd been my roommate. It would have been nice." You don't hear his response as sleep takes you by surprise.

Honestly, it's more startling for you to come to in the morning in your own bed. You blink at the ceiling, wondering if the night before was just an exhausted depression dream until you shift and your wrist throbs, a faint bruise marking the whole way around. That's when you process the sounds of someone cooking in your kitchen. Carefully, you creep down the hall, standing and staring at the sight before you.

The man from last night, the murderer on the run, was cooking breakfast. He had even dug out that gag gift of a frilly apron someone had gotten you years ago.

"I hope you don't mind," he rumbled lowly, assembling a plate of food for you. "But I tidied things up. Looks like you could really use a roommate to help take some of the stress off you."

"...Why?"

"Hmm?"

"Why bother?"

"...Because you're worth the effort. Everyone is. Just because you've been dealt a shitty hand doesn't mean you deserve to suffer. Besides, I need a new place to hide out for a while, and we get along pretty well. I can cover the rent and bills as well as help you get back on your feet. I have... connections."

It was a tempting offer. But you didn't know anything about him--

"Murdock. Murdock Sabre." You blinked, staring at him as he sat down with his own food, while he was giving you a new smile, one that was wide and confident. "As a sign of trust."

There were worse things in life than a killer roommate, really. 

#stab happy #iswm murdock #iswm murderplier #murdock iswm #my writing

[mikka-minns]

Hey Minnie! Hope you don't mind me coming into your inbox to ramble, but I had a realization and a theory that I think you might appreciate.

So, I know we always complain about Dominic as The Guy Who Can't Write MK, and I do think he's part of the problem, but I think the real final boss of Bad MK Writers is Shawn Kittelsen.

He wrote the MKX comic, and is thus responsible for "Cassie was the result of a one night stand and Sonya never loved Johnny before MKX" (which is a bullshit interpretation of their dynamic), Hanzo "Sub-Zero is Beyond Saving Let's Just Leave Him For Dead" Hasashi, and probably other awful shit (oh wait, now I remember. Killing off a bunch of characters unceremoniously, for really no reason other than blood. That's just a shitty use of resources)

He started working on the games in MK11, and I'm pretty fucking sure he's responsible for Kotal/Jade (weird because it has no buildup), past Sonya being an unrepentant bitch (telling the father of your future daughter to get a vasectomy when you know said daughter personally is bitch behavior. As is not reading a mission report all the way through. Sonya is an emotionally repressed soldier, duty comes before everything for her. That's kinda the point of her arc in MKX??? But now she's suddenly incapable of understanding the idea that military service is about duty and sacrifice), the weird sexual threats Shao Kahn dishes out (because what the FUCK NRS? That's never been an aspect of the character before. Forced marriage, yes, but you'll note that he has no offspring of his own. Also, that's just a little much for the tone of MK), and probably the Sindel Retcon.

I have no idea what we're getting at, other than "Dominic is semi competent at writing" and "Shawn might just be on par with Stephen King, but only if you're comparing his writing to the sewer scene in IT."

Dont worry, i dont mind at all! I do appreciate this!☺️

And yeah, Shawn is apsolutley to blame as well. I think that the whole NRS writing team hates the franchise tbh(not the whole, but the Ones who write the most important stuff for the games and media). I did hear he was one of the main writters for mk11.

You are right tho, his interpretation of the characters that he did in the comics is pretty much what is ruining them the most(before mk11 ofc). I first found mkx the game and then the comics and without the knowlage of what comic!Hanzo did, i Just Kinda Thought he was Just a vengfull ass, but then the comics are what made me hate him.

I realy want to know what all of these mfs are smoking, cuz it doesnt seem like its good for them.

I also heard that mkx the game and mkx the comic were in production at the same time, so whoever was in charge of making sure they are on the same Page didnt do a good job, since the comics are not even complitely Canon at the end. Mostly cuz they didnt fit in with the game's narative and the characters were off(even they noticed, but a little too late). The "Cassie is a product of a one night stand" is one of them, cuz, in the game, some of the dialogue seems to indicate that Sonya was realy in love with Johnny and they only divorced later cuz of their marriage problems.

Some of their choices for mk11 are just disturbing. Someone Thought of that and actualy presented it and then someone ALLOWED it!

And Ed Boon seems to not give a flying f about what people do to the franchise he has built. Just stands around and hopes it makes him money.

In advance, i apologize if i ended up a bit biased and its complitely alright and understandable if Someone disagrees with me. I am in no way a profesional and probably just letting my emotions do all talking. (imma be honest, im mostly mad cuz the torture Kuai and then make him the bad guy or imply his life is easy)

#Mortal kombat #Mortal kombat x #Mkx comics

[angelmichelangelo]

I don't think I can actually contain my excitement for the new Mutant Mayhem movie!!! What are you most looking forward to/anticipating and hoping for?

anon i’m right there with you pal, hahah.

more under the cut cos i went a little insane lol

and oh boy SO much. it’s funny because i am a no trailer kind of person. i don’t mind teasers but on a general note i tend to avoid trailers only because most of the time they’re very spoilery. but i broke my own rule mostly because i have no impulse control and was very very happy when it decided to not show me the entire plot of the movie in 2 minutes or less.

i really REALLY love that it’s not a krang/shredder movie. don’t get me wrong: love those guys, i think they’re great “main” villains but it gets a little tiresome of seeing them on the big screen most of the time.

it feels really reminiscent of spider man homecoming in the sense that, we didn’t need the entire movie to spell out peter’s origins. we already KNOW he’s been bitten by a spider, we already KNOW about ben and about responsibility and blah blah blah. and having homecoming be a little ways into his new life, having him takedown smaller, street level villains felt super refreshing and so much more down to earth and so much more like spider man, and that’s the feeling i get with this new tmnt movie.

we don’t need them going to space taking down aliens or making mortal enemies right away, we need them saving shitty parts of the city from purple dragons, making home for all the stray mutants. if feels so much more.. homely? in a way? it feels grounded and im really happy to finally see that in a tmnt movie.

(we can save shredder or krang for a sequel lol)

I LOVE that it doesn’t seem to be focused on just one of the brothers. unfortunately over time tmnt seems to boil itself down to “this is the plot and then we have leo/raph conflict, then we have the peak, and then leo/raph conflict resolves and they finally work as a team and save the world”

and again, i do enjoy some brotherly angst from time to time but it really gets tiresome after a while, especially when you’re watching donnie and mikey get shafted into essentially background support cast lol.

brothers fight and argue and i don’t doubt that we’ll see that in the movie, maybe driving somewhat of a wedge between them before their big moment but as long as it isn’t the resounding conflict of the movie i’ll be happy. i want name calling and hair pulling but don’t make the entire movie just leo vs raph match. they’re each others best friends at the end of the day.

i’m hoping for a little more of mikey and donnie. again like i said in my last point, they’re always pretty under-utilised. mikey always falls into the comic relief cycle and donnie is just. there until someone needs him to pick a lock or defuse a bomb lol. notice in the trailer when mikey asked what they would do if they weren’t monsters (coming back to that in a moment) we never actually hear what it is mike and don want. whether it was just for the gag of donnie’s sarcastic response to leo’s answer or whether it was intentional, i have full faith in seth rogan ever since he put out the characters sheets about mikey wanting to be taken more seriously AND the fact that it was mikey looking longingly out of the sewer towards the city. he might make me cry in this movie. he might make me cry.

i want to be HURT. yes mikey is my very first blorbo so naturally i treat him like a personal punching bag. mike sees himself as a monster, no doubt the others do too, but throughout the lifespan of the tmnt franchise, mikey’s always the one that wants to be part of the “normal” world, making human friends, wanting to be accepted. yeah we got that in bayverse 2 but if we get a repeat of the scene where the police officers that were surrounding them with guns calls them monsters to their faces and mikey starts tearing up… i might not make it. look for me on the isle floor underneath the fold up cinema seats cos i’ll be there, weeping like a damn baby. i want this movie to be fun and im okay with it if it isn’t more angst heavy but the tmnt fandom are pretty used to the pain by now, it’s almost expected lmao.

things im hoping for: a casey hint. hand on heart i don’t think he’ll be here for this movie, and unless he’s referred to at the end then im hoping we get a Easter egg at least, a la yoshi at the end of the super mario bros movie. show me a hockey mask and i will go bananas.

woody dirkins. i will honestly do so many unlawful things for a woody cameo AT LEAST. woody is one of my favourite side characters…. i want Woody. i might protest this who is with me.

no multiverse shit. i don’t mind tongue in cheek references, i think that’s cute and it’s fine and hey. if we get a 2003 reference or joke i might just combust because it’ll be nice if SOMEBODY in the Nick studios remembered those guys. but i’m so happy with this being a standalone movie. no crossovers no sky splitting open no big blue beam going to destroy the city. i want this bubble of a world to exist on its own, mostly because the multiverse trope is everywhere at the moment, so it would just be really cool not to have it again lol

OH. ideas for a sequel despite not even having seen the first one ???? here is one:

the rat king. again, we don’t have to go full main mega villain yet but 2012 rat king was UNREAL and genuinely one of my favourite villains of all time. it wouldn’t have to be beat for beat the same as that particular episode but i quite enjoy it when they give Splinter stuff to do.

overall i think i’m gonna be pleased with this movie. i genuinely am not fussed about many things, if it’s gots the turtles, i’m gonna be happy, trust me.

i’m also looking forward to the soundtrack. we’ve only had one song so far but i just know it’s gonna be very fun, 90s hip hop, my kinda thing.

a lot of love seems to have been poured into this project and it doesn’t feel like a cash grab or toy selling front in any shape or form. the tmnt fandom has pretty much been bobbing about in waves of content for years, some good some bad, some left in the mud. we haven’t gotten a real movie since 2016, back when i was in college making essays on the franchise itself, and now here we are seven years later and i’m just as hyped as i knew i would have been if I’d known this movie was coming out back then.

i cant wait for this movie, to feel it’s love through the screen from the writers and the cast, and it’s just so exciting. be prepared because as soon as my little mushroom brain goes and watches that movie, i’m making it my entire personality for perhaps forever. i won’t even be sorry lol

thanks for the ask anon, sorry it got a little rambly there — have a good day :)

#ask #anon #tmnt #tmnt mutant mayhem #teenage mutant ninja turtles #mutant mayhem

[presleyhearted]

Yours Truly - Chapter 10: Girlfriend?

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

・❥・Genre: slow burn, mystery, angst, fluff.

・❥・Word Count: 2.9k

・❥・Summary: In which a 21-year-old girl suddenly finds herself having consecutive dreams of a particular rock ‘n’ roll star whom she has never met and who died 45 years ago.

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW. self-conscious OC, fluff, a kiss, adorably oblivious OC.

chapter index| prev | next

--

NOVA

"Did you choose this dress?" I asked over the locked door, as I studied my reflection in the floor-length mirror. It was a cream white dress, with wildflower patterns adorning its entirety, the straps were tie-straps and the dress reached just a little above my knees. It was beautiful, and elevated the remembrance of summer days. The dress hugged my figured surprisingly, and I can only logically say that in dreams, of course a dress would fit perfectly. It is my dream, after all. 

"Yes and no." 

I roll my eyes at his response, of course. I take one final glance at the mirror and sigh. It is only natural to feel insecure, but its very existence loomed over me for majority of my teenage years. Being not 'conventionally beautiful' in a high school setting really does something to a young girl's self-esteem. I know now that outer appearance is not all that makes up a person, but it still does hurt when harsh words aim at something you were born with, it eats your soul. So, I guess even at the age of 21, webs of insecurity are still something I battle with. 

"You never give simple answers, do you?" 

Elvis chuckles, "I don't know what you mean. Are you done?"

"Give me a sec." 

I turn around and check my reflection in the mirror one last time. What if the dress is beautiful, but me wearing it destroys it? I purse my lips at the thought, but I don't really want to go back to wearing my pyjamas. What to do? 

"I can almost hear your mind running wild, doll. " He muses, his voice was closer to the door. 

Ok, breathe, Nova. Just get out there and if you look atrocious in the dress, you can always just blink your eyes and wake up from this dream. I try hard to tell myself. 

I take a deep breath. 

"Darlin, do you need help? I wouldn't want to be the shitty guy who's out here waiting when you are out there struggling-" 

I swing the door open, which cuts off his sentence. Elvis is leaning against the wall of the hallway, but he straightens to stand up suddenly. His familiar blue eyes gazed at me, slack-jawed. I take my hand off the door handle and take a cautious step towards him, my hands fiddling. His eyes trail from my legs up to my head, holding my gaze for what seems like an eternity. I hug myself, rubbing my arms consciously. 

What is he thinking?

"I, um. . . sorry I took so long." I finally say, the words seem to get stuck in my throat. My voice was unfamiliar to me, there was shake to my tone. This much attention, coupled with strong silence - I never know how to act. I don't think anyone else has looked at me like that, except for- well, I can't think about him right now. 

"No, no, don't be sorry. " Elvis says, shaking his head. He steps forward and takes both my hands in his, removing them from my self-conscious guarding. 

He breaks out into a smile, "You look beautiful, Nova." 

There's that thump again in my chest. Whenever he is within this close proximity to me, his scent encompasses my senses - that familiar cologne. I honestly do not know how all those woman in the past managed to contain themselves being this close to him. It's like a magnetic pull, an invisible rope that I know I can't fight against, or that I don't want to.

"Thank you." I softly say and looked down at my feet, "But I don't suppose I go wherever we are going wearing these house slippers, right?" I question, in hopes to cut the prevalent tension. 

Elvis laughs at this, as he bites on his bottom lip, "Nah, I don't think it helps your height." 

I gasp and hit his arm playfully, "Rude! Bye now, Presley. I'm off." I dramatically walk past him, but I am not fast enough as he catches my arm quickly. I then feel both of his arms wrap around my waist rapidly, his chest pressed firmly against my back. 

"No, honey, I'm sorry. I was only joking." He laughs, and I can feel his smile against my cheek. 

Oh god. He has never done this before, and this is a different level of closeness. Something you do when you know someone so intimately, and that thump in my chest beats far rapidly. I can almost feel it about to leap out my chest. But nevertheless, I feel my lips stretch out Into a smile, as I feel my face heating up. 

Our laughter dies down and we are once again met with silence.

"Please, don't leave me, Nova." He says this time, in whispers of desperation. So quiet that I almost didn't catch it. 

Is he afraid that I'll end this dream sooner than he wanted, and then he'll have to wait for me again the next time I close my eyes. 

"I won't." I softly say, tilting my head a little to the left to turn to him. 

・‥...━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━...‥・

I sit down in the passenger seat of his car, I am sat down sideways with the car door open and the right side of my body leaning against the back of the car seat. I glance down at him on his knees in front of me. 

"And you just so happen to have this in your car?" I asked him, referring to the pair of white heeled-sandals that are in his hands. 

"In case of emergency," He looks up at me and winks. 

"Elvis, you do know I can manage putting shoes on myself." I chuckle. 

"I know, darlin. But let me just do this for you, okay?" Elvis grins. 

I nod as I know there is no point in disagreeing, once he has his mind set on something he'll do it. 

His hands are soft and careful as he slips my feet into the pristine white heels. The contact of his hand against my skin doesn't go unnoticed by me, as I feel heat rush to my cheeks. He finishes putting the final strap on and suddenly leans down, planting a kiss on the area right next my ankle. 

I gasped, "Hey!" My cheeks are no doubt turning a bright shade of pink. 

"Sorry, couldn't help it." He looks up with that infamous smirk of his, not apologetic at all. 

"Well, thank you." 

"For the kiss?" He says mischievously. 

"No, not for the kiss, oh you are impossible." I roll my eyes, biting back a smile. 

I slip both my legs into the car into a comfortable position, as Elvis stands back up. He closes my car door and jogs around, quickly getting into the driver's seat. He starts up the car, and slips on his sunglasses. I stare in awe at the infamous musical gates of Graceland as we pass through them, "Who opened the gates?" I asked him, as he heads down the main road. 

"Consider it a magic trick," Elvis replies, briefly glancing at me before refocusing his eyes on the road. 

Both of the windows on either side are rolled down, perfectly welcoming the fresh breeze into the vehicle. The wind accompanied my hair, letting the strands dance wildly which I am sure I will have to fix later on. The sun hangs high in the dreamy blue sky, encapsulating scorching hot heat onto my skin.

"It's so warm for a December day, " I admit, it's definitely not the usual temperatures for a day in the supposedly Winter months. But I suppose in the land of dreams, nothing really Is logical. 

Elvis chuckles, "I ain't complaining, just embrace the change." 

"Neither am I. It's good." 

Although the gust of wind is continuous as Elvis speeds through the roads, the scorching heat of the sun still permeates my skin. I have the right clothing on and the right shoes, so it's just my thick, long hair not really helping the situation. 

"Damn it, why don't I have a hair tie?" I mutter to myself, instinctively looking down at my wrist as I pull my hair up in a ponytail. I purse my lips in thought, what can I use to tie my hair up? I pause on my train of thought as I feel his gaze on me in my peripheral vision. I turn my head to look at him, and see his eyes flicker briefly to my exposed neck - his sunglasses are half-tinted blue, making his gaze much more prevalent compared to normal fully-tinted ones. 

"Sorry, I was just looking for something to tie my hair." I find myself explaining, and he simply nods and refocuses his attention back on the road. His jaw is noticeably tensed, with his bottom lip between his teeth. I wonder if he's deep in thought about something. 

He mutters something under his breath, and I think it's along the lines of "Lord, have mercy." He pushes back his hair with his one hand that's not on the steering wheel.

"Elvis, are you okay?" I ask.

Elvis clears his throat, "Yeah, yeah. 'Course I'm good." 

"Okay, I just wanted to makes sure you weren't in pain or something." I chuckled, smiling at him. 

He shakes his head, "In pain? Now, why would I be in pain?" 

"Nothing." I shrugged, "It's just you looked a little tense there for a second."

He lets out a chuckle and gives me a wink, "There's nothing to worry about, darlin', trust me." 

Before I could spark a new subject of conversation, the car comes to halt as Elvis switches the engine off. I observe where he parked, which is in the middle of a vast landscape. He has basically parked on grass. 

"We are here." He states. 

"Um. . . this is the middle of nowhere." I say, as a matter-of-factly.

Elvis gets out of the car and quickly opens my car door for me, with his hand outstretched. I gratefully take it, "Thank you."

He shuts the car door, locks the car - all without letting go of my hand. 

"Are we going to have a picnic? Do you have a picnic basket? I mean, there's literally nothing here. But it is the perfect weather to have a picnic, for sure. Or are we going to play football? or any other sports? Elvis, I'm terrible at sports, I can't cop-"

He cuts off my nervous ramblings with a laugh as he turns his body to face me completely, "Breathe, baby. Breathe. I'm with you, okay?" His thumb gently grazes my cheek, before returning his hand into tightly intertwining with mine. 

baby. 

I feel my pulse quicken, my heart hammering ruthlessly against my chest. And something tells me it's not because of the unknown, but because of him. His way of being so affectionate, gentle, and- I should really stop thinking about it. I can't hold onto this thought any longer. Elvis is a charmer, I mean, I guess he is like that with everyone. It is only natural for him to be so, so. . . close. 

I slowly nod after taking a deep breath. His lips spread into a smile, as he tugs me along with him. We walk down hill a little and not long after, I hear the sound of excited chatter and music booming from speakers fill my ears. We keep on walking, until we find the source of all the sound. There, in the middle of the vast empty grass, was a walkway leading up what looked like two giant light tan-coloured tents that are combined together. As we walk closer, the tents seemed to be held up by numerous solid wooden poles. I immediately stop walking, as my eyes widen in realisation on where we are going, "A party?" I turned to Elvis to confirm my guess. 

"Hmm, not exactly." 

"What do you mean?" 

Elvis ignores my question and tugs me along with him. We keep on walking down the pathway until we are at the very opening in the middle of the two tents. The music and the chatter grow louder and louder, until we are right inside of the tent. Fairy lights dazzle my vision, framing the entirety of the main entrance and the large inner space. Numerous rustic tables adorned the space, with around eight or so people on each table. At the very middle of the it all is a mirrorball. A simple stage is at the very front of all the tables, and a bar to the far left. What seems to be hundreds and hundreds of people occupy the space, all adorned in such formal clothing. But what catches my eye is the three-layer cake on the long table beside the stage, "This is. . . stunning. It's a wedding reception."

Elvis nods. 

"This was not on my list." I say, challenging him. 

"Are you sure 'bout that, Nova?" He grins mischievously. 

Oh no. What now?

Suddenly, a man dressed in security uniform approaches us rapidly. His eyes are narrowed at us, with a clipboard in his hand. 

"I didn't see you both at the entrance. Names?" He questions, suspicion evident in his tone. 

Well, shit. Did I see Elvis take in invitations? I don't think he had any invitations in his hand when we left Graceland. 

"I'm Aaron and this is Katerina." Elvis confidently says, smirking at me. 

First off all, how does he know my middle name? Well, I mean, I know his but that's not the point. 

The guard flips through the pages of his clipboard and shakes his head, "Neither of you are on the list, which means you have both just broken into a private event." 

Oh shit. 

I pull Elvis' arm and frantically whisper into his ear in a panic, "Elvis, this is not good. This is really not good." 

"I've got this, doll." He whispers back calmly with a smirk. 

Elvis turns back to the man, "You see. . . Gregory is it?" He asks, briefly glancing at the name tag on the guard's uniform, in which the man firmly nods. 

"Gregory. Listen, pal, " He steps forward and places a hand on the man's shoulder, he then leans down and whispers something to him as he gestures to me. 

Damn it. What is he saying? 

The guard, Gregory, his face goes a deep shade of red as his eyes widen at me. Elvis leans back and returns to stand next to me, intertwining our fingers. 

"Now you see why, Gregory?" Elvis dramatically sighs, in fake sadness. 

The man nods his head and sputters out a string of apologies, "I-uh. . . of course! Silly me. I apologise to you and your girlfriend. I am so sorry for the trouble." 

"It's all good, man. " Elvis smiles brightly, as Gregory walks away very quickly. 

My mouth is hung wide open in shock and surprise, I turn to Elvis with my eyebrow arched at him in confusion. 

"Girlfriend?! What on earth did you tell the him? You frightened the poor guy to death." 

Elvis simply laughs at my reaction and tugs me along with him, "I'm afraid I can't spill my secrets, baby."

There he goes again with the pet names. 

"No, I want to know!" I pout at him. 

He hums, "Maybe another time. Let's crash a wedding first?" He questions, smirking at me.

I roll my eyes and chuckle, "Fine. But this is not the end, E.P." 

"Wouldn't dream of it, Nova."

next

#elvis x oc #elvis fanfic #elvis presley #elvis x original female character #original female character #fantasy #slow burn #angst #fluff #mystery #elvis fic #yours truly

[supramingi]

First of all, I absolutely ADORE you. I’m grateful that you’ve been sharing your talent and passion with the world for several years.

I have a question for you, humbly asking for advice.

That you write a l o t of heavy stuff we already know, and then you’re always publishing them and talking about them openly. I like to write and read dark themes a lot, and I’m constantly considering posting it on Twitter and talking about it more openly, rather than hiding behind the Anonymous label on ao3 when it’s time to publish. The thing is I’m terrified of people hating on dark fanfiction and I hate how it pushed away a lot of writers from fandom spaces, so I keep it hidden.

How do you deal with this? Does people hate on your work too much to this day? I know that with HOC and others there was a lot of bad attention regarding the works, right? I guess I’m just a coward afraid of little trolls on the internet. Is it worth it? Should I prefer my peace? Am I overthinking?

Anyways, I always looked up to you. I hope you’re able to do what you love with peace of mind for the rest of your life. Wishing you the best, always. Thank you for your time.

Hi Anon, thank you for this lovely message! Regarding your questions about dark content, I'll try and be as open as possible with my response.

Truthfully, dark themes in fiction will always anger or upset someone. As an avid consumer of horror media, I've never personally understood the association between content and creator that fandom consumers like to create. It's a complicated issue that I won't go into too much because it's a waste of good time and energy.

To use HoC as an example - HoC did receive some negative feedback, not only in its comments but also from other creatives in the fandom. I was aware of a few writers saying not great things about my stories and me as a person thanks to friends who saw tweets from them.

At first, I won't lie - it felt shitty! I hated being perceived in a bad light for simply writing a story. Having my actual character called into question, being accused of being things that I'm not, etc.

However, as someone that has never really socially engaged in fandom, it really didn't bother me after a while. I know I'm not a bad person, my loved ones know I'm not a bad person, so why would I care about the opinion of someone on the other side of the world that literally only knows me through fiction and a pseud? My ability to just not pay attention to what other people are saying because I was busy with my own life and creating content is a blessing. But I understand that some people aren't able to shut it out that easily.

I don't get negative comments on my work these days (unless you consider the occasional criticism negative comments.) HoC itself didn't receive a lot of negative attention whilst it was still on my AO3 account, the positive far outweighed the negative.

My advice to you is - are you okay with handling small amounts of negativity? Say, one bad comment out of 50, 100 comments? That's pretty much how rare I would say the bad response to HoC felt like. (At the time it felt much bigger, but now looking back I can see it wasn't that big at all!)

If you are the kind of person that doesn't take negativity well, if you might spiral or really be affected by bad responses, I would either advise steering away from sharing. Or maybe sharing content that isn't as dark/extreme to begin to test the waters and see how you feel about it.

I don't know which fandom you would be writing for, so I don't know what the general response is like. But some fandoms have completely different levels of tolerance for content, so best to keep that in mind!

Hope this advice helps!

#sorry for the delayed response #tumblr notifs don't work well lol #*ask

[just-some-random-blogger]

I never stop day dreaming, and I fundamentally live in my head, my imagination has never melded into my reality. I know what is real and not.

Are you me? Yes yes yes, yes to every word you said. Yes to day dreaming. One should never blur the reality they are living in, I agree. But I think most of us are just exhausted living beings trying to navigate through shitty lives, and we should allow ourselves to seek comfort in that little safe space in our head to heal after mentally exhausting ourselves during the day.

I think, when you love a fictional character, they are with you. Their life only ever exists through those who know of them. Again, it should never be scary though. ):

This almost made me cry. I love every single one of my fictional characters. Living in this shitty world sucks, I need my fictional character stay by my side. Everyone could use some healthy amount of escapism, and I personally don’t like some else tell me what I should do, they don’t know me, maybe they should restrain themselves from casually giving me advice. However I understand what that anon meant, if they feel like it’s become a serious issue for them, they should seek help and cut back their time spending on the site. Moderation is key.

HI NONNIE. HAHAHAHAH the hive mind is real HAHAHAH. you are me, i am you, we are one.

i was excited to see a response to that post cos i thought you were the anon i replied to. alas it appears you are not. but that's fine. that's great! we're now having a dialogue on the interwebs, just as the greeks intended 😌

Very truly i say we really are just exhausted zombies tryna navigate this unfortunately post-apocalyptic reality. I wanted to quote this Argentine writer that I learned about in high school. I think his name was Jorge Luis Borges, but askfg;aksgf I can't say for sure cause I don't remember him nor the essay. I do remember a striking part of the essay though that uses hemoglobin as an analogy... or was it cancer T_T I EVEN PULLED UP MY OLD LIT BOOK FOR THIS BUT I THINK MY LIT TEACHER DISCUSSED THAT AS ADDITIONAL MATERIAL AND AALSFHASFLAHSF. the point is, that essay talks about how fiction is important because it's like the life behind the eyes of a dead city ya know....

ok tbh i dont remember that shit enough to quote it BUT IN A VIDEO IN ANOTHER LIT CLASS I HAD MORE RECENTLY IN COLLEGE, it was talked about how fiction is important because we can navigate a lot of different and complex things within the safety of the pages it is bound upon. i couldn't find the video T_T and i know this isn't explicitly said or how its explained, but its like we can witness a cold blooded murder and perhaps feel for the perpetrator more than the victim, due to the circumstances presented and the perspective we're shown. it's not to say in any way shape or form that murder is OK, but again, that realm was explored in a way that didn't actually harm anyone.

i hope i'm making sense and this isn't just extremely macabre.

I used to not understand the fun of reading when i was a kid, i used to think my classmates that liked reading were faking it (cos i was). reading = studying and school SUCKS/IS BORING/ETC but then i discovered ✨fiction✨ and more importantly ✨fan fiction✨ and now i will die on the hill that is: everyone in the whole entire world loves to read it's just a matter of finding content they like.

anyway the part where you said you don't like being told what to do HAHAHAHH you like me FR FR HAHAH. the inner childish gremlin in me reacted first to that message with 'LOL' 'ITS NOT THAT DEEP' 'DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO' 'WATCH ME DO IT ANYWAY' but i thank God everyday that my childish gremlin mind is not the pilot of my brain cos that would be so embarrassing. imagine being an internet troll 💀💀💀. for such a long time, i wanted to be one of those really sharp tongued, quick witted people on the internet that would give dry responses cos it's cool. i cannot for the life of me find it in me to contribute to that though because in my heart of hearts, i don't believe people are mean and i especially dont think anyone will come out of their way to my inbox just to be mean to me. i am glad to say it's not happened, nor will it ever 😌😌. huzzah, cynicism has not made me a stale cinnamon roll yet.

moderation is definitely important, but if you don't know how to gauge yourself and you are in genuine need of help, that won't do much, i think. yes reading is therapeutic but it is not replacement for the guidance of someone who has spent years studying how to help people in that manner. sometimes all it takes is just guidance of someone out there who cares. <3

needless to say i am surprised someone who wasn't that nonnie read my answer, which further just proves my point that someone cares. <3

....omg nonnie i think you love me 😍😍😍😍😍😍

cheers to going against the grain, lovie

xxx

#ask #anon ask #my beloved anons

[chelleztjs18]

Hello you mrs. used to be a party goer lefty eyebag 😅

Well, make sure you don't pull it out or you'll get twice as much gray hair! Besides, if you look good now with your hair color, you'll probably look good when you get more gray.

I was just teasing about you not spoiling anything 😅 I like that you gave us readers a chance to explore the possibilities of what could've happened to Yelena. Same with the Natasha and R portions where you just skipped over the months, leaving it to our imagination and making it sort of free for all to think how they want to.

I kind of feel bad when I do that though, cause it was your story to tell and then me imagining different scenarios for the characters makes me feel like I'm cheating on the author's thought process... does that make sense? Lol

My favorite part with the whole fic is finding out R's past. It gave insight on how they became what they are now. And I like that in stories, cause if that wasn't in the story, I'd keep wondering the whys. I also enjoyed the detail when R was showing Natasha how to get rid of the body.

So with your husband, did you guys stay together for a bit before getting married?

Hey now, I could have asked for more songs but then you'd be writing all night and might have to make 2 to 3 days to post the response...like your stories..hahaha just kidding 🤣 but 600 songs is not that much to be honest.. how many genres of music do you like?

Wild old times huh 😏sounds like a crazy fun summer. But you never got into the pool at all? And you didn't mingle with any pretty girls back then? Cause you know, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas anyways lol

Hm, I'd have to do a rain check on my list. Summer for me was always about bbq on the grill and working lol

Okay next, top 3 songs that was your favorite from your childhood.

-CuriousGeorge

Hello hello old head who cant stay up late righty eyebag!😅

Sorry i fell asleep last night..(the irony after i call u old head who cant stay up late 😅🤣)

How r u today? Whats ur plan for today? I woke up with worse allergy than yesterday..i cant wait to get rid of that tree, i swear.. 😅🤣 i got headache all day yesterday n today i feel shitty.

Haha yeah i hv been pulling those greay hairs n it keeps grow back n i found more. Some of them even look like a silver-ish color of grey so i looks a little shinny when the light hits it.😅😅

Aw thank youuu.. i hope so too but burgundy red n grey r total different color though, so it could have a total oposite look.😁

Yeah sometimes i like to do that, leaving some space or part for people to imagine the possibilities (not pasta-bilities though 🤣)

Yeah i got what u meant with feeling bad about imagining other different possibilites that u have in mind.

Ohhh so u told me the good dark possibility that happen to yelena last night, so it means u hv cheated on my thought's process about the story??🤨 how could u!! I cant believe u do that! *soap opera dramatic scene* 🤣🤣🤣 just kidding just kidding.

Haha true, u can ask for more songs but u only asked 3 but u know what? Im gonna rebel a bit n i will give u another more of the songs that reminds me of summer (on the next answer because i need time to find it.😅)

Also it's not fair, u didnt tell me 3 songs that remind u of summer.. so give me the answer! 😅😆

I like any genres my ears found it good n enjoyable.. except the heavy metal or underground or other type of screaming rock type of genre. It drives me crazy. What about u? Have i asked u what kind of music u like?

Yep it was a pretty fun summer in Vegas. N nope, i didnt go in to the pool besides i think it's gross, i wasnt wearing swimsuit or bikini (dear god, no. 😅). I was wearing short tank top n a thin oversized shirt to kinda cover my body a bit, flipflop n a baseball cap 😅 n i was happy enough to stay at the bar have my drinks n enjoy the view of women 🤭 (in respectful way of course)

I didnt mingle with the pretty women because i was with my friends but i remember a few women smiled at me. But i'm pretty oblivious n i dont know how to flirt or if i flirt. one of my friends, he sometimes noticed n one time he said "how come everytime we r at the club, girls hit on u?"

I was like "what? They did? I dont know" 😅🤣

Well, i made out with a girl in the corner of the club there once.. but not too long because my friends were looking for me n kept calling me. 😅 what happened in Vegas, stayed in Vegas. Lol

3 songs that reminds me of my childhood, like when i was a kid? Or teenagers? Or how young? Haha. I didnt really remember my childhood to be honest. U gotta be more specific on this.😆😅

Next question?

Cheerio! (Not the cereal one)

[daisylore-au]

To Tommyinnit!

Hello, I’m Ghostbur! I was missing you a lot today, so I wrote this letter! You can’t read it right now, and I do hope you won’t get to read it for a long, long time, but they say writing your feelings down is a good way to think. I haven’t written many letters, but I think I should start by saying I’m sorry. It was very rude of me to leave without saying goodbye. It wasn’t on purpose! But I am still sorry. I know you said you didn’t want Alivebur to come back, but I know you care about him. I hope the resurrection worked and you two are getting along again. I hope it turned out okay for you.

Things turned out better than expected for me! I thought if Alivebur got resurrected, I’d disappear into the void and be alone forever, or that I might just stop existing all together. I was really, really scared Tommy. And for a little bit, I could feel myself falling into the void. But someone caught me.

Did you know Philza Minecraft’s wife is Death? I’m not sure why, but I could have sworn his wife was a refrigerator! I like her much better this way, though. Mumza is a very nice lady and she took me to her home! Its very nice here. She has a big library full of stories, and she says I’m good at music, and there are birds everywhere. She treats me like family, but she doesn’t call me Wil. She says I’m my own person. Its taken getting used to, but I think I like it.

I still miss you, and Philza, and Technoblade and Friend and everyone. I still dream about L’Manberg. Even though this is my home now, I still get homesick for the old times. Mumza says I’ll see you all again someday, but since she’s Death I think maybe she’s talking about when you all die. Don’t rush for me! I can wait, and when you do finally come, we can share so many stories. I hope you find that happy ever after you deserve.

PS. Take care of Friend for me! :)

Love, Ghostbur!

Dear Ghostbur,

So this is pretty stupid because I know you’ll never get this letter (considering you’re dead and shit) but Puffy told me that sometimes writing out my feelings is better than speaking them. I’ve never really been good at speaking (or writing) things so I thought I’d give it a go because I’m the best.

I’m sorry I got you ki

I feel gui

I want to thank you, man. For everything. I don’t want to get sappy because Tubbo might find it or something and I think I would rather blow up a country (sorry not sorry) than him read this but you were kind of there for me when nobody else was. In exile, even if you fucked off halfway through but that actually wasn’t your fault and I don’t really hold it against you. When I got out of prison. When I was alone. When I thought I had nobody. You can tell I’ve been to therapy because I’m being open and honest about my feelings which isn’t exactly something I’d done before coz Wilbur and Philza are shit at feelings and never open up about anything (which actually makes me better than them because I’m at therapy and they’re not. Sucks to be them. They’re dumb.)

But yeah. Thank you for being there for me. Thank you for sticking by me even when I was horrible to you a lot of the time sometimes. You were a lot nicer to me than Wilbur was, and I think I took a lot of my feelings towards him out on you at times, which was a bit shit of me. He’s still dead, by the way. I thought maybe when you died, he’d come back, and I was really scared not really sure what to think if he did. But he didn’t, so now I’m just kind of brotherless. Which is fine, you know, brothers fuck off every so often, but it was lonely for a while. 

I’m not alone anymore, though. There’s this kid - her name is Henry (yes like the cow, fuck off) - and she’s kind of mine? Now I’M like the big brother which is fucking weird, but she’s cool. You would have liked her, I think. Her favourite colour is blue, and she has a toy sheep that she calls Buddy (think she got that from you, though I have no idea how). Puffy told me to tell you that I’m happy because she was trying to ask me what you’d say if I told you that, but I told her I didn’t think you’d say anything. I think you’d’ve hugged me, and I think you would’ve cried, even though crying hurts you, but it would’ve been happy tears.

It’s nice not being alone. I hope you’re not alone, wherever you are. You won’t be alone for too long - I’ll be coming up before you know it, I mean, fucking hell, I’m twenty now. I think. (I still don’t know when my birthday is actually but Philza Minecraft says I’m twenty and he’s never wrong), but I hope maybe someone is with you. Maybe Wilbur? I dunno how well you’d both get on, but I think even someone is better than no one. 

Fuck me, man, this is so rambly. This is the first time I’ve spoken about you properly to anyone. Well. I guess I’m technically just speaking to myself, actually. But maybe one day when I die when I’m old like Philza you’ll see this and then you’ll think I’ve gone all soft (WHICH I’VE NOT BY THE WAY). But I just wanted to let you know that I think I’ve got my happy ending, even after fucking everything over the past few years. I think I’m finally happy. I have a family, a proper family, and I have my friends, and the server is at peace.

If you see Dream by the way, tell him I 

Hope you’re having a good time in Heaven, big man. I mean. If you got into Heaven. Coz if you didn’t and you’re in Hell then I’ve got no fucking chance. And I don’t fancy the big flaming ground pit

Does Heaven even exist?

Getting all existential again holy shit.

Anyways. I’m going for dinner at Tubbo’s (WHO HAS A KID TOO CALLED MICHAEL) and Henry’s coming in from school (we finally have a fucking education system in this place) so I’m going to leave it here. Cheers again for everything, seriously. I’m sorry things ended the way they did, and I hope you get peace, because if anyone deserves it, it’s you.

Thank you for being my brother when I needed one the most

Miss you a lot

TOMMY. (AKA Big Man, AKA Big T, AKA Biggest T.)

#anon that letter made me cry when i first read it :') #hope you don't mind my shitty little in-character response !! #brain's scattered so it's not the best but this is c!tommy Growing TM #> daisy lore: writing #> daisy lore: ghostbur #> daisy lore: tommy #tw death #tw grieving #tw mourning #tw grief #tw guilt #long post