#i think she killed herself because no one understood her either

[pluttskutt]

the problem with me writing is that i see the scenes play out in my head perfectly so i don't describe in detail how a character moves or how their nose twitches or their fingers brush on a surface or how their mouth shift when they hold in words because it's so much and so many words but when i do manage to write better i fall in love with my writing all over again and i love creating

#i wish i could direct a show but then again i probably wouldn't be to say what i mean either #i was an actress in another life #a better life #i think she killed herself because no one understood her either

[some-pers0n]

Turtle's arc is so subtle yet so good and I love it a lot, which sucks since I've seen a number of people write him off as just "socially awkward kid who is boring", which?? No??? Gimme a second just to ramble, okay?

Turtle has terrible self-esteem issues and an inferiority complex. He puts himself down, calling himself boring, stupid, and generally useless constantly in his internal dialogue. He's kind and sweet and really well meaning, but he's socially awkward and shy and can't exactly strike up a conversation.

He's like this in due part of being one of Queen Coral's many...many sons. Christ alive this woman had thirty-two sons-- but that's besides the point. He's just another dragon. He's not old enough to be a leader, but not young enough to exactly be any special. He's a middle child. He's a nobody. Just another SeaWing prince who's destined to either run away or to become a military general.

The one time Turtle was ever truly acknowledged was when the night happened with his father, Gill. Gill needed Turtle to fetch one of the royal guards so that they could protect Queen Coral's eggs. But, Turtle couldn't find them. He failed. Gill lashes out, snapping back at Turtle for his inability to do such a simple task and killing the eggs in the process. Turtle internalized this moment. He was useless. He's a nobody, and when he's forced to be somebody, he'll just fail and let everyone down.

Thus, he doesn't see himself as anything special. A fuck up if anything; which makes it all the more ironic that he's an animus dragon. He's literally got the most powerful, special ability in the entire continent, and more than anything he's self-conscious and terrified of it as he would then be pushed into the limelight over it. Because of it, Turtle has made some...rather selfish choices every now and then. The incident with Anemone was created solely because he was petrified of being put on a pedestal. He doesn't want to be some grand dragon. So, he diverted attention away from him and enchanted Anemone to have magic.

Turtle doesn't want to make choices or do anything out of fear of failure and letting others down. Worse is if he's discovered to be an animus, where he's then elevated to such high expectations that he is convinced he will never be able to accomplish. He's held back by his own perceived inadequacy. He doesn't think highly of himself. He doesn't want the spotlight as he's both afraid of being seen and afraid of what those people will say when he lets them down.

He blended into the background in Moon Rising. Moon herself was confused by not being able to read his thoughts, which turned out to be because of the Magic Plot Rock we all know and love as skyfire. However, as the rest of the Jade Winglet ran off when Moon revealed to have been a mind reader, Turtle stuck around. He related to that. He felt pity and understood Moon the most. They are most like one another anyways, with the both of them being ashamed of their own powers and fearing being rejected by their loved ones the most.

He's a deeply kind and considerate soul who wants nothing more than to help people. He cares for Moon and wants to comfort her when she's at her lowest. He is so sweet, but he does it in a quiet, deeply personal way. He doesn't like big gestures or calling attention upon himself. He just likes being close to another. I feel he connected most with Moon because he found his own insecurities and fears in her and related to that. He found another person like him.

The Jade Winglet helps Turtle a lot with his own issues. Slowly throughout the series, he grows a little more confident of himself. His kindness is shown yet again with him becoming friends with Peril. Again, relating and sharing experiences of having powers and abilities that others want to take advantage of and unwillingly push them into roles they wouldn't want. He laughs, jokes, and playfully banters with her. He's getting better and better.

And then...Darkstalker.

Darkstalker throws a wrench into everything. Turtle reverts instantly back to his scared, cowardly ways. He enchants a stick to hide himself from Darkstalker, instantly sensing that Darkstalker hated him. He feels powerless to stop Darkstalker. What could he do?? Well, he could try to use his magic, but that would mean he steps out into the spotlight! He's seen! But this is serious. Darkstalker is massive, has animus magic, can read minds, and can see into the future. Turtle is just a kid. He's a nobody. He can't do anything.

He's scared. He feels useless and afraid. He's no hero. He doesn't want to be a hero. He's nothing like the heroes from legend. He's nobody.

Over the course of his book, we see Turtle quietly observe and stand by as Darkstalker takes over Jade Mountain Academy. He's plotting and planning, feigning his kindness and basking in the praise and worship others are giving him. Darkstalker is the antithesis to Turtle. He freely uses his magic without care and, more than anything, wants to be seen and witnessed by others. He loved the attention that his magic brings him. If somebody doesn't like him, then he either kills them off or brainwashes them into liking him. He's the polar opposite of Turtle in every way.

And you know who else is like that? Anemone.

Anemone is corrupted and warped even more by Darkstalker. Before hand, she was a kid who had just been released from the suffocating life as Queen Coral's only daughter. Darkstalker saw her as a pawn he could exploit. He encouraged her to be more risky and daring with her magic. He whispered into her ear and tells her that she's able to do anything. He's grooming a child he's grooming a child--

Regardless, Turtle feels guilty for everything Anemone has been put through. He doesn't fully understand the extent to which she had suffered as being physically tied to her mother at all times and being trained as a living weapon, but he feels so much guilt over it. Because of his inability to take accountability and risk being seen, he made a selfish, half-formed enchantment that was supposed to be a quick fix. He did not fully think of the consequences, and yet here they are before him.

As the book goes on, we see Turtle slowly but steadily try to form a resistance movement against Darkstalker. He had been watching and eventually found himself alone with Qibli and Winter. Winter, who was still heavily under the "Darkstalker is good :))))" spell, refused to listen as Turtle told them about it. Qibli, who wasn't affected, understood. For one of the first times ever, Turtle used his magic for another. Well, he also enchanted Kinkajou's skyfire so that she would be almost invisible to Darkstalker, but that would require me spending two seconds thinking about where that scene leads to (the love spell) and I'd rather not.

Anywho, Turtle is still insecure and afraid, but he's slowly becoming more sure of himself. He knows Darkstalker is evil and he wants to take him down. He's deeply afraid of him though, as he knows Darkstalker will kill him. He still feels useless and scared.

Until finally he has to act.

Anemone, coaxed by Darkstalker into doing this, goes off to kill Queen Coral and her entire family. Anemone is convinced this is what she deserves after being a terrible mother. Suddenly, Turtle realizes that his little mistake of giving Anemone god powers now has consequences and his family is going to die.

The guilt he feels is immense, but he needs to stand up. He can't sit idly anymore and let the world pass him by. He needs to stop her. He's the only one who can match her power. He has to fight her. He has to warn everyone. He has to do something heroic and terrifying.

He confronts Anemone on the beach. For the first time, he stands up for himself. He doesn't back down when she barks at him and demands he leaves. She tries to kill him, only for him to finally reveal himself. He's admitting to his mistakes. His guilt. He knows that she's not going to have a good reaction. Yeah so Anemone then tries to kill him via animus magic. The pair fight, with Turtle wining in the end.

Yada yada the book ends with Turtle having his magic taken away, but over the course of the book (as well as bleeding into DOD), Turtle has grown significantly in terms of his fears and anxieties. He's able to make a stand for himself and actively try to make things better. He's scared and still socially awkward, but he's, well, a hero in some semblance. Something he thought was the most terrifying thing possible for him he does.

Turtle is a naturally kind and considerate soul. He wants to help others, and when he does hurt them it eats away at his heart. He's afraid of conflict and prefers to be a doormat if it means he can slip through the cracks and come out unscathed.

Through the books however, he grows into a more upstanding and confident character. He's less prone to self-deprecation and letting others take advantage of him. He doesn't let things pass by and get himself into terrible situations through in-action. Through the support of his friends (and going through traumatizing scenario after traumatizing scenario) he is marginally better. Not fixed, but good enough to be happy and still the same, socially awkward but incredibly kind Turtle.

He's a character who I think a lot of people can see themselves in, and his arc in particular is one I feel many should aspire to. To stand up for themselves. To mend and fix the mistakes they've made and try to do better. Problems can't be fixed by some other hero. You have to take initiative. Stand up. Be the hero you need.

#wof #wings of fire #sp-rambles #turtle wof #Hey WoF people I decided to think again

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1 ao3

When Robin and Eddie return to the trailer, Steve is still unconscious.

“Fuck, should we be worried that—how long can someone…?”

Eddie trails off, goes to check his watch reflexively before remembering that it’s stopped.

Robin shakes her head.

“This kinda thing happened, um. Before. I didn’t see much, but I… I don’t think… Billy Hargrove was completely—well. Steve had to, like, crash a car into him, and I, uh, sorta blacked out? For a bit of it? But he just walked it off, I think. Eventually. Billy, I mean. Like his body wasn’t fully… Like he didn’t really feel it.”

Eddie stares at her, reeling. A dozen thoughts scramble to be heard, many not helpful in the slightest—namely that Billy Hargrove stalked the basketball court like there was something seething within him every goddamn school day, so he can’t even imagine what that combined with the uncanny strength of The Mind Flayer would bring.

And the real major concern is—

“But Hargrove died.”

Robin looks up from where she’s been checking Steve’s head. Her fingertips are flecked with blood.

“He didn’t die from—he wasn’t killed by. By a person,” she says jerkily. “So we… we should be fine to…” She eyes the cistern lid, but her face drains of colour again.

Eddie exhales. “One problem at a time.”

He grabs Steve underneath the armpits, Robin holding his legs up.

They take him to the bedroom. Set him down, back leaning against the cabinet.

Eddie finds the handcuffs and gingerly attaches one end to a drawer handle, the other around Steve’s wrist.

Steve doesn’t even stir at the touch. His head lolls down unnaturally.

“They better not be the shitty plastic kind,” Robin says. “I’m not having him escape cause all you had was a Baby’s First Magic Set.”

Eddie’s startled into a weak chuckle.

“Excuse you, Buckley, these are the bona fide, genuine article.”

It had become a joke in the first place, actually keeping them. A year ago, maybe two. A girl from Loch Nora with a college boyfriend had either naively or intentionally thrown an open invite party—Eddie had only gone out of curiosity, wanting to see just how impressive the living space was.

He’d barely lasted an hour there, because a shithead of a ‘concerned’ neighbour called the cops on young people ‘loitering sinisterly’—as if their precious hydrangeas were in danger of being uprooted and sold.

Eddie got grouped in with a select lucky few accused of stealing. He hadn’t been, but he figured he might as well try and get something out of it. It was either Callahan’s wallet or his cuffs; Eddie picked the wrong pocket.

Now he thinks he actually lucked out, in a grim kind of way.

They take stock of everything they’ve got: lighter fluid; a couple space heaters discovered in the RV, another one found next to Wayne’s folding bed. A few bottles of alcohol along with cloths and spears. One walkie. Lighters.

Rope.

-

Nancy had left with Dustin in the RV. The plan had been for her to drop him off at the Creel House before returning to the Gate at the trailer.

But Eddie caught the steely glint in her eye as she readied herself in the driver’s seat.

Dustin sat by the table. He pinched his bottom lip between his fingers and tugged, harsh enough to draw blood. His hand was shaking.

Eddie couldn’t look at him.

He turned to Nancy.

“You’re not coming back,” he said in an undertone.

It was only once he’d spoken that he realised it didn’t come out as a question.

Nancy grabbed him by the wrist, pulled him close to whisper in his ear.

“Going to another Gate. Where Fred…”

Eddie understood: it was a last-minute change that she alone was in control of. One that Steve didn’t know.

And if Steve didn’t know, then…

The engine rumbled into life.

Eddie got out—had one last look, hand on the door. There were tanks of gasoline wedged behind Nancy’s seat.

Dread chilled him. He wanted to tell her that she shouldn’t be alone. That when she burned it all down, she needed someone to pull her back lest she get caught in the flames, too.

He didn’t say any of that.

Because Nancy just looked at him with something close to sympathy, as if she could tell everything he was thinking; it was already clear that whatever he said, it wouldn’t make a difference.

It didn’t stop him from trying.

“Nancy. Be careful.”

She nodded. “You too.”

Eddie shut the door behind him.

He was halfway back to the porch when he realised that the RV hadn’t pulled away. He heard the door opening again, began to turn, and was almost bowled over by the force of Dustin’s hug.

“Hey,” he said softly, once he’d caught his breath.

He ruffled Dustin’s hair and then stopped near the end of the motion, kept his hand there. Just held him.

He didn’t say it was okay, because it wasn’t.

Dustin sniffed. He pulled back and finally looked Eddie right in the eye.

“We’ll get him back,” Dustin said.

His voice wavered in the middle. But his determination was much stronger than the falter had been.

Eddie put his hands on Dustin’s shoulders. Nodded.

It was obvious that when it came to Steve Harrington, Dustin would go to the ends of the earth for him. And here he was, doing the hardest thing in the world: leaving Steve behind.

Compared to everyone else, Eddie thought, his job was simple, really. All he had to do was prove Dustin’s trust in him.

-

Steve’s face twitches when Robin shuts the window.

Eddie watches closely, holding his breath.

One eye opens, barely a slit. Moves sluggishly before finding Eddie.

“Hi,” Steve says.

He sounds… normal.

“Hi,” Eddie echoes cautiously. “Are you—um. Are you…?”

He trails off, feeling immensely stupid. What was he even gonna ask? Are you okay? Like he honestly was expecting Steve to say, Oh, could be better, but the malevolent entity inside me is a fucking bummer, man.

“How’re you feeling?” he settles on, because Steve still hasn’t moved, at least seems in control, and Eddie’ll take any semblance of normality he can get.

“M’okay,” Steve says, after a pause.

He lifts his head up slightly, notices the handcuffs. Gives a faint nod of approval. With his free hand, he gestures vaguely to the back of his skull.

“Feels… distant. I dunno.”

“Good, uh, that’s good,” Eddie says conversationally, like that will take away the reality of what he’s currently doing: tying Steve’s legs together with rope.

Both of Steve’s eyes open, his gaze turns sharper, calculating, and Eddie tenses—

“Eddie,” Steve drawls. He sounds supremely unimpressed. He shifts his legs and the knot Eddie made goes slack. “Tighter, dude.” “Oh, I’m sorry, not of all of us got our Scout’s badge.”

“Here,” Robin says. She nudges Eddie out of the way and binds Steve’s legs; the knots don’t budge. She gives a half smile. “At least Starcourt was educational.”

Steve laughs through his nose, but he grimaces a bit, like something Robin’s said is distasteful.

She puts a hand on his knee, peers at him. “Still here,” she says.

It isn’t a question, but Steve answers anyway. “Still here.”

Robin ties his free hand to another drawer handle.

Eddie catches a glimpse while he’s turning on the heaters, and his stomach twists—unbidden, thinks of Christ on the cross.

Steve nods at the heaters. “Put ‘em closer.”

Eddie does. He keeps waiting for a change, ready to leap back, but it doesn’t come. The only difference is that the pulse point in Steve’s neck starts to jump rapidly when the heaters are tilted towards him, but even that’s nothing like before, nothing like the frenzy in the bathroom.

Eddie puts his palm in front of one of the grilles. It’s only just been turned on, sure, but he can’t help thinking that it’s not nearly strong enough.

He stands in front of Steve, Robin by his side.

No-one moves.

Then Robin speaks out the side of her mouth. “Should you still…?”

Her fingers curl, palm up, and Eddie realises that she’s mimicking fret positions.

“Yeah,” Steve says before Eddie can answer, and Robin jumps. “Should still work.” His cuffed hand twitches. “S’in… Vecna. Me. Not enough… can’t control bats, too. Not—not all of ‘em at once.”

His throat clicks as he swallows, like the words are getting stuck.

“Should follow. Like… like, um.” His eyes widen for a split second, as if in panic, before he swallows again and says, a little clearer, “Pied Piper.”

Eddie glances between Steve and Robin. “Okay,” he says eventually. He steps back while Robin remains where she is. “I’ll—”

“No,” Steve says, and this time the panic remains; he shakes his head urgently. “Not alone. Don’t—not alone with—with me.”

“Steve,” Robin says.

“No,” Steve repeats, and there’s a fierceness to the word—Eddie feels it thrum in his chest, and he somehow knows that it’s not from any unnatural force, that the power is being drawn from Steve alone.

“Buckley,” Eddie says reluctantly.

She squares her shoulders. Takes a step back, eyes never leaving Steve.

Something in Steve unwinds, relaxes. His head droops, almost like he’s falling asleep. A stark vein in his neck pulses.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Good.”

Robin pauses at the door. Her eyes dart to the heaters, then Eddie.

“Are they…?”

“Highest they’ll go,” Eddie says.

Robin bites her lip.

Eddie knows what she’s thinking: that Nancy said unbearable, and right now barely one corner of the room is being warmed.

“It just takes time to, uh, kick in,” Eddie says.

It doesn’t sound convincing—sounds like he’s free-falling, desperately searching for something to hang onto.

But Robin accepts it, Eddie thinks, because what choice does she have? What choice do any of them have?

“Eddie,” Steve says, just as Robin’s stepped out of the room.

“Yeah?”

Steve wets his lips. Swallows again. It looks painful.

“It’s gonna… make him mad.”

Fear seeps down Eddie’s spine.

“We’ll come back,” he says, because right now, it’s the only promise he can make. “We’re not leaving you alone.”

“S’okay,” Steve says. He’s starting to slur his words. “Better this way.”

-

They tumble through the Gate as quickly as they can, then immediately set up the trailer defences.

“We’re lucky this is here,” Eddie says when they’re done, as he picks his electric guitar off the wall, untouched by vines.

“Yeah,” Robin says. “Lucky…”

She abruptly gasps and runs from the room.

Eddie curses, follows her—flinging the guitar across his back.

But there’s nothing in the living room, no bats to fight—just Robin pulling something out from behind Wayne’s bed, laughing with a touch of hysteria.

“Jesus,” Eddie breathes, “you’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

Then he actually processes what he’s looking at. Robin’s brought out a space heater, a bulky kerosene-fuelled one, much larger than what they’d originally rustled up.

“But that—that broke last winter,” Eddie says, bewildered.

Robin doesn’t say anything, just turns it on. The effect is almost immediate compared to what they’ve been working with: the heater glows red-hot, and Eddie already feels the urge to take off his jacket.

“Eddie,” Robin says slowly. “It’s 1983.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie says. He grabs her by the shoulders. “You’re a fucking genius.”

Robin turns the heater off, drags it to a point just underneath the Gate.

There’s a couple more treasures they manage to stash away: a match box found on the counter, thrown into a deep cooking pot Robin snatches from a cupboard.

“Oh, you mean business,” Eddie says. “That’s the good pot.”

Robin grins, and it makes Eddie’s heart ache—he knows what they’re doing, forcing smiles to hide their shaking hands.

“And what goddamn atrocity befalls it in the future?”

“That’s between me and God.”

They’re up on the roof, Robin crouched by the amp, when Eddie hears the Walkie crackle.

“Max is—bait’s still been taken,” comes Erica’s staticky voice.

“Uh, copy that,” Eddie says. “Sinclair. Henderson with you?”

A click.

“I’m here,” Dustin says quietly.

Eddie breathes out. “Good. Stick together.”

He sets the walkie down and yanks off his guitar pick. He thinks of Chrissy, her body contorting. Of Patrick, dragged from the water.

Steve’s hands clenched around the sink.

“Showtime, Buckley.”

The noise is explosive. It barely takes a few seconds for the bats to start coming; Eddie watches the horizon as his fingers fly over the strings.

Underneath everything, he can hear Robin counting out bars like she’s in band: One, two, three, four. Two, two, three, four.

Prestissimo.

“Eddie, two more bars!”

He nods in acknowledgement. Feels his heart pound as if in time with the music.

“Now!”

They run. The bats circle dumbly round the roof, some clustered onto the still ringing amp, like moths drawn to light.

Pied Piper.

“Go, go, go!” Eddie urges.

It’s tricky getting the heater through, but they manage it between them, an awkward handover across the Gate.

And then Eddie’s falling, landing next to Robin, breathless. They sit up as one, give each other a speechless high five.

Robin moves first. But she stops midway to Eddie’s room—like a reversal of when he was first brought to a standstill, seeing Chrissy’s eyelids fluttering erratically.

“Eddie,” Robin says. “You—you closed the door, right?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, mouth dry.

He knows that for certain because as he shut the door, his last glimpse was of Steve leaning the back of his head against the cabinet drawers, eyes closed.

Now the door’s ajar.

Eddie strains to listen, but he can’t hear anything.

He feels Robin’s hand dart into his. He squeezes tight before letting go. She picks up the heater. He’s got the cooking pot under his arm.

Together, they open the door.

The space heaters they’d left are broken, cracked down the middle. The handcuffs are dangling from the drawer handle, pried open, the ropes frayed apart—and the whole room is littered with…

Shards of wood. Snapped strings.

Eddie’s guitars. They’re shattered beyond repair, the red of the Warlock mixed with the dark wood of the acoustic.

And there, backed into the far corner, is Steve.

He’s cradling his wrist to his chest—it looks badly broken. Even from here, Eddie can see evidence of splinters embedded in both hands.

But above all, what’s drawing Eddie’s attention is that his shirt is off, revealing the state of his stomach, the bandages shoddily ripped away. The wound is oozing slow, thick trickles of black and red.

Steve doesn’t seem aware that anyone’s entered the room, just mutters indecipherably to himself, hair hanging down in front of his eyes.

Eddie manages to set the pot down silently—takes one hesitant step forward, cringes when he jostles a piece of wood.

Steve’s head jerks up at the sound. He stares at Eddie, a crease in his forehead.

“Who’re you?”

Robin lets out a breath like she’s been punched in the stomach.

“It’s…” Eddie clears his throat. Stays as still as he can. “It’s me, man. It’s Eddie.”

Steve doesn’t reply.

More wood scatters across the floor—Robin stepping forward frantically, “Steve, it’s me, it’s—”

Eddie stops her with a touch to the back of her hand.

“Steve,” he says, digs deep to find a calm tone. “Who’s this?”

Steve’s jaw works.

“R… R…”

Robin’s face shatters.

She sets the heater down. Turns it on full blast.

“Robin!” Steve gasps. “Robin, it’s me, I’m still—Robin, Robin, please—”

Robin takes another step—“Careful,” Eddie whispers, heart in his throat—and forcibly shoves the heater across the room.

Steve tries to dodge it, but he’s not quick enough; the grille slams against his arm, and Eddie inhales sharply as the skin blisters an angry, weeping red.

Steve’s cries are piercing.

But they reach a peak than taper off into whimpers; he presses himself against the wall, curls his upper body around his blistered arm.

He starts to sob.

They have to get closer to hear, stepping into the circle of heat radiating from the grille, Eddie just behind Robin; sweat pools in the small of his back.

“No, no…”

It’s a dreadful whisper.

They crouch down. Slow.

It doesn’t look like Steve notices: his eyes are shut tight, lashes damp as he continues to plead, “Don’t make me. Please don’t make me.”

Eddie can’t blame Robin for what she does next.

It’s instinct—he’d seen it in his peripheral vision at the boathouse, her hand reaching out to comfort, like she couldn’t stop herself.

No, he can’t blame her. Because Steve is hurting, sobbing like his heart is going to break from it, and he’s right there.

Robin’s hand moves forward.

Eddie sees the moment Steve’s eyes open, cold and inhuman, and Christ, for a millisecond too long, he’d forgotten that they had stepped into the ring with a cobra.

“Robin,” Eddie warns, too late, as Steve’s hand seizes her wrist.

“Don’t worry,” he says, and it’s almost perfect, almost Steve’s gentle concern, but there’s something off in the inflection, a misplaced note—“I’m not killing you first.”

He twists Robin’s hand.

She doesn’t scream, doesn’t even try to move, like she’s holding her breath just to stay silent.

“I can…” Steve breathes in and out through his nose. Predatory. “I can feel her.”

“Who?” Robin says.

A vague noise rumbles from Steve’s chest, like he’s searching for a name again.

“N… Nancy,” he says eventually. “She’s dying,” he says, off-hand. “She can’t breathe.”

Eddie reaches behind. Feels carpet beneath his palm. Steve doesn’t track the movement, eyes fixed on Robin.

“She will be like… like her friend. She will know how it feels to die alone.”

Steve grunts, and then…

Eddie has to bite down on his tongue to stop himself from making a sound; the skin around Steve’s stomach wound ripples, like there’s something bubbling up underneath, moving, alive, crawling up, up, up—mottled veins spreading, black as tar.

Eddie swallows back bile as his hand finds something solid. Wood.

He feels for the lighter in his pocket.

Steve leans towards Robin, baring his teeth.

“I will—”

Click.

“—consume her.”

The jagged piece of guitar burns in Eddie’s hand.

He throws it.

Sparks fly, land directly in Steve’s eyes, and he yells, lets go of Robin—with such an impact that she’s thrown across the room, landing slumped against the cabinet.

“Robin!”

But Eddie doesn’t have any time to help her, because there’s another click, a crackle, and the walkie comes to life, and it must be on accident because all he can hear is the sound of someone—Dustin and Erica—breathing quickly. Running.

Steve’s eyes narrow.

Eddie thinks of Dustin saying, “He knows where we are, he’ll know—”

“Shit,” Eddie hisses.

He tries, desperately, to turn the walkie off, but it suddenly feels like all the air leaves his lungs, and he’s pinned against the wall, Steve’s hand on his chest.

The walkie’s wedged between them. Steve’s somehow using his broken wrist to still Eddie’s hand, to keep the walkie turned on.

Eddie has no choice but to listen to what comes through the static.

It’s chaos. Heavy, frantic breathing; it’s like he can feel the kids clutching their sides as they run. In the distance, a car, the engine stopping. A door opens.

Jason Carver’s voice. “Did you see them?”

Behind Steve, Eddie spots Robin stirring.

Steve keeps staring down at the walkie.

An abrupt cry of pain, and another voice curses, says, “Shit, Jason, I think it’s broken.”

“El?” Dustin breathes.

Something in Steve’s face flickers, but Eddie’s too terrified to know what it means—tries and fails to turn the walkie off again, but he doesn’t even know what’s the right thing to do anymore. He just wants them to be okay, he just wants—

“Jason, no-one’s fucking there. You—you can’t even stand, I’m taking you to the hosp—”

A car door slamming shut. An engine starting up, fading…

Gone.

Dustin and Erica exhale shakily. Running again, footsteps pounding up the stairs, across floorboards…

The walkie cuts off.

Steve grits his teeth.

“Please,” Eddie whispers.

Robin’s up, moving so quietly—scooping the remnants of his guitars into the pot.

Another crackle.

“Eddie!” Dustin’s voice again, up close. “Max is—the music’s not working! I—I don’t know what to—”

There it is again: that flicker across Steve’s face. A ripple in a lake.

“Max,” he says.

The name cracks with emotion, and although his voice has been used before, an uncanny imitation, Eddie knows this is different, feels it in his gut; it’s him, it’s him, it’s him.

The snick of a match being struck.

Steve’s head tilts ever so slightly, but he doesn’t turn around. Like he already knows Robin is right behind him.

Instead—

Steve pries the walkie out of Eddie’s hand. Presses down on the button. Inhales.

“Run.”

The walkie drops with a clatter. Behind them, the fierce roar of flames; Eddie’s face stings.

He can feel Steve’s grip on him loosening, feels himself sliding down the wall.

Steve’s eyes bore into his—and although dark veins have spread across the whites, like spider webs, Eddie can still see the slightest gleam of something real in them.

Something human.

Steve’s lips move, cracked and bleeding.

Now, he mouths.

“Robin!” Eddie yells.

Steve lets him go, and Eddie sees a flash of Robin throwing the entire contents of the pot over Steve, raining fire upon him; Eddie covers his face from the scorching heat, scrambling to get away, relying on touch alone, and his hand hits something, the crunch of plastic, fuck, the walkie—

He’s by the doorway, gasping for breath.

Awareness comes in stages: the fire’s gone out, charred remains of the guitars on the ground where Steve once stood; Robin’s there, her hands red raw, and she’s looking at something, what’s she…?

Steve.

Steve dragging himself across the floor, his broken wrist pressed against his stomach. Crawling to sit next to the space heater, head tipped back against the wall, eyes closed. Breathing.

Just breathing.

Then, so faintly, Eddie almost thinks he’s imagined it.

“Railroad… Snow Ball… Muppet.”

Steve thumps the back of his head against the wall with each word.

Robin goes to him.

Eddie can only watch. He feels like he’s staring at a puzzle with too many missing pieces.

Despite everything, Robin reaches out with her hand again. She touches Steve’s knee gently, and Steve falls silent, stops hitting his head.

Robin smiles, tearful.

“You’ve—you’ve changed that song for me forever,” she says, choked up, and although Eddie can’t really understand, he senses the heart in it, the echoes of their story, of their love hitting him square in the chest.

“Do you remember,” Robin goes on, laughing through it, “the first time we were closing, and you—you got that whole bag of chocolate chips? Tore the corner and just, like, scarfed it. You looked like a chipmunk. It was—it was so gross. And you just said let’s see you do better, then. So we just kept eating them, and we had to pretend we had, like, a whole week where every order had chocolate chips just so we could get another shipment. You… you made me feel like I was five years old. That’s—that’s when I knew.” Robin takes a shuddering breath. Keeps smiling. “Right there. I wanted to be your friend.”

Steve just looks at her. He blinks, and a tear falls down his face, and Eddie can see it, like the sun briefly appearing through storm clouds, can see more of him breaking through, and for a moment, just a moment, there could be a chance, please, please…

Steve’s stomach spasms, and he groans, inhales short and sharp, twists away from Robin’s touch; the litany starts again, fever-slurred.

Eddie rediscovers the walkie. There’s cracks all through the plastic—it might not even work.

But Steve keens, pressing, pressing as blood flows through his fingers, as he trips up on the words, almost insensible now, and Eddie knows he has to take the risk.

His thumb pushes the button.

“Dustin,” he murmurs, “don’t tell me where you are. But if you’re—if you’re safe. Christ, please say you’re… Steve, he—he needs you.”

Silence.

Eddie closes his eyes.

“—safe. We’re all safe. I copy.”

Eddie thinks he laughs or something close to it. Maybe something else, too. He presses his forehead against the walkie. A benediction answered.

“Eddie?” Dustin says, and his speech keeps crackling, keeps threatening to cut out, but he’s there, he’s there.

Steve blinks, turns towards the sound of Dustin’s voice.

But Eddie’s not afraid this time.

“Railroad,” Steve repeats. Soft yet intentional, like he means it with everything he has left. “Railroad.”

Eddie passes the word on to Dustin. Waits.

Dustin takes a little while to figure it out—or maybe he solves it almost instantly, but here, time moves slow: just Robin and Eddie holding their breath, Steve only mouthing the words now. Barely there.

Dustin must push his button down mid-gasp, the words rushing out.

“That’s how we—that’s when everything—”

What follows is a garbled speech Eddie can barely make sense of, as static obscures every third word or so: about the junkyard and demodogs, and tunnels, and…

“D-different details, Henderson,” Eddie says with a choked laugh.

Fondness wells up; for a second it had felt like he was listening to Dustin in the middle of a campaign, on a tangent, and Eddie knows he just has to nudge him down the right path and then he’ll work it out, because the kid’s a goddamn genius.

“Stuff he can feel,” Eddie tries.

Steve looks at him, unblinking, and God he’s still in there, Eddie thinks, there’s so many thoughts, so much of him trapped beneath the surface.

So Dustin talks about Queen playing in Steve’s car, of how the fall leaves looked as they walked, of his shoelaces coming loose, and Steve getting down on his knees in exaggerated exasperation, you’re gonna fall flat on your face, dickhead, we’ve got enough going on.

Eddie takes the thread he’s been given, adds embellishments where he can—the crunch of leaves underfoot, the steady clunk of walking on the tracks, Dustin sometimes hurrying a little, just to match Steve’s stride—and as Steve finally blinks slowly, Eddie prays.

Can you feel it? Please go there. Go somewhere safe. Go somewhere it can’t find you. “What—what else did he say?” Robin says, when Steve lips stops moving, and his eyes close; he looks so tired. “Snow Ball?”

“Yeah, that’s—” Eddie pushes the walkie button again, so Dustin can hear. “Didn’t the Middle School have something… Did you do anything for it? Like put up decorations or…?”

Robin shakes her head.

Eddie furiously racks his brains for one detail, anything—curses himself for not paying attention, for shirking the ‘volunteering’ he was forced to do that December in lieu of detention; for viewing it all with a petty indifference, when for others, it must’ve meant so—

He releases the button.

“Did you say Snow Ball?” Dustin asks, before he launches into Steve shielding his eyes from hairspray, of the forest green gift bag his mom had passed into Steve’s hands, of Steve’s surprise, his shy smile—and then it’s Erica who takes over, calling over somewhere, “Lucas, remember when we came to pick you up?”

And the Sinclairs had stayed much longer than expected because Max’s folks were late in collecting her; and when Steve came to pick up Dustin, he’d noticed and stayed, too.

“He didn’t make a big thing of it,” Max says quietly, somewhere distant; Lucas adds that Steve opened up all his car doors so the tape he was playing could be heard: The Carpenters, some Christmas medley.

“He danced with Max,” Lucas says. “We were betting on how many times he could spin her in a row.”

“Ugh, shut up.”

Eddie can hear Max’s eye roll. Her smile.

“And,” Erica says, “he actually enjoyed dad’s small talk. Like, he was fully hooked on mom and Uncle Jack’s gift wrapping contest.”

Eddie smiles, covers his mouth just in case a traitorous noise slips out. The kids sound happy, and he doesn’t want to ruin that for the world.

Steve’s eyes shine, almost like he’s thinking the same thing.

Sorry, he mouths. I’m sorry.

The walkie dies.

Steve groans again, pushing down on his stomach wound. He’s trying to hide it from view, Eddie realises.

Robin keeps reaching for him. “Steve, don’t—let me help. Please.”

Steve shakes his head. “Can’t—can’t hold it back.” His voice is rasping.

“I saw you,” Eddie says, and Robin glances at him. “Last year. At school.”

The memory comes to him all at once, sparked by the kids and the thought of Steve chatting in a parking lot, so at ease.

“I was pissed ‘cause I’d just flunked—doesn’t matter. Was walking it off outside, and you turned into the parking lot, windows down, and you looked so fucking pleased with yourself cause you’d already passed everything. You must’ve had a free period, maybe a double, I dunno. I was,” Eddie huffs self-deprecatingly, “jealous.”

Steve’s head slumps against the wall. His chest rises and falls rapidly, laden with sweat. Eddie tries not to look at the marks—where the burning pieces of wood struck his skin.

Steve’s eyes find his. One long blink.

Keep going.

“You—you were wearing these sunglasses,” Eddie says, and Robin sobs, laughs, like she knows exactly the pair he means. “And you—the radio was on, but I—I can’t remember what was—anyway, you were kinda. Singing. Or, like, humming to yourself. And you were walking to the middle school, you kept throwing your keys in the air. You caught ‘em every damn time.” Eddie chuckles. “Do you know how annoying that was? And I—I just kept watching, ‘till the bell rang, and I just didn’t get it. Didn’t get why you looked so… so happy. But I—” Eddie swallows. “I know now.”

Steve’s mouth tilts, not quite a smile—he’s trying, he’s trying.

“You were gonna go see the kids, huh?” Eddie says. “Surprise them or something, I don’t know. You can tell me later. Promise me? And you—” His voice threatens to go, but he pushes through it, because if there’s one thing Steve needs to hear, it’s this.

Just this.

“You were happy. Because you loved them,” Eddie whispers. “And they loved you.”

Steve breathes in.

And he rises up so suddenly that Robin falls back in alarm. He hits the space heater as he goes, and while it still blisters his skin, he doesn’t cringe away, more deliberately leans into it—

“Quick,” Steve mutters. “He’s mad, he’s mad, we don’t have much—”

And he lies down directly on the bed frame, his stomach still oozing that viscous black and red; Eddie’s stomach drops.

He feels strange, like his body already knows what’s coming before his mind’s caught up.

“Quick, quick—”

The smash of a bottle as Steve fumbles it, spilling alcohol on the floor—he tries again, reaches for lighter fluid and douses the whole bed frame in it.

“Robin,” he says, “Robin, please.”

She’s watching Steve’s every move with wide eyes; Eddie just looks on helplessly.

Fucking move.

“Robin!”

“Steve, I—” She shakes her head, uncomprehending—more like she doesn’t want to understand. “I don’t—”

Steve doubles over, picks something off the floor. Eddie’s distracted—stupid, stupid—watching in horror as more black veins spread up, across Steve’s shoulders, the strained muscles in his neck, and too late, he realises that Steve’s holding a lighter in his hand.

Click.

Steve drops it.

Sets the wooden slats ablaze.

He cries out, back arching—the flames lick higher, higher, and Robin’s screaming Steve’s name, running to him, like she can pull him from the flames…

There’s something else in Steve’s hand.

Robin’s trapped where she’s stood, a broken piece of glass to her neck—and Steve’s struggling against it, but his hand doesn’t move, as beads of blood dot Robin’s skin—

Eddie doesn’t know when it happened. Just knows that he’s holding a spear, and it’s on fire too, flames creeping up…

“Eddie!” Steve says. “Finish it!”

His skin writhes, contorting; Eddie thinks of Chrissy again, of Patrick—and a faint memory of Will Byers, vanishing without a trace.

It was you, Eddie thinks numbly. It was all you.

The glass presses closer still against Robin’s neck. She gasps—

And Steve begs.

“Kill me!”

The stomach wound heaves like a living creature, gaping and monstrous.

“Give him back, you son of a bitch,” Eddie breathes.

He lunges forward.

With all his strength, he digs the spear straight into Steve’s stomach; the flames surge, engulf—

Steve screams.

A black mass pours out of his mouth, and Eddie thinks he’s screaming, too, but he can’t hear anything, can’t hear anything but Steve, the torture in his voice, fuck, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, and the mass hits him; he flies through the air, feels his head smack against something solid.

Then nothing.

He comes to in the living room. Blood dampens the back of his head.

Sits up. Blinks dazedly at the ceiling. The Gate… the Gate’s gone.

Bedroom. Has to… Steve, Robin. Bedroom.

He shoves himself up, wobbles. Forces himself on.

He knows he’s lost time when he nears the room: a chill hits him from the broken window, and the flames have been put out.

Robin. Robin kneeling by the bed, burns all up her arms.

“—open your eyes,” she’s saying. “Oh my God, oh my God.”

Eddie very deliberately doesn’t fully register who she’s talking to. If he does, he’ll freeze, useless. He will never forgive himself.

“Band lungs, Buckley,” he croaks, and then he falls beside her.

Starts compressions.

You’re not going, you’re not going. You’ve got so many people to see again. No. You’re not going.

He tries just to count out loud, but even as he’s doing it, something crumbles, something breaks apart irreparably inside of him, “Don’t you dare leave, don’t you…”

Robin. Two breaths.

“I wanna talk to you, Steve Harrington, and you’re gonna fucking be there to listen, do you understand, do you…”

He loses track of what he’s saying completely, lost to wilder and wilder promises, but it doesn’t matter, nothing matters except this, except the desperate push of his hands, the crack of Steve’s ribs, Robin’s long breaths; and God, Eddie would give anything, anything at all, would tear his fucking heart out if it would help, if it meant that Steve would—

“—just breathe!”

Something jolts underneath his fingers; for a moment, it destroys him: it’s back, it’s—

“That’s it,” Robin’s saying, “there, there, that’s—”

Eddie’s head sinks down to his knees.

Wretched coughs. Gasping.

“He can’t—Eddie, he can’t breathe.”

Eddie staggers over to the window. Makes the hole bigger, again and again. Glass slices through his palms.

“That’s better, huh?” Robin’s murmuring, and Eddie can’t look at her, can’t look at who’s in her arms; if he does, the proof will shatter, and that can’t… he has to…

The phone rings.

Eddie goes to it. His arm lifts, heavy and delayed. Like he’s in a dream.

On the other end, a terrified voice.

Mike. Mike Wheeler crying.

“Did it work?”

“I—” There’s a high-pitched ringing in Eddie’s ears; he shakes his head. “I don’t—”

“I-is Nancy there? Where’s Nancy?”

And there’s that gut feeling again, the one that pulled Eddie out of the RV in the first place; “Hang on,” he says to Mike, and he lets the phone fall, pushes the front door open to stand on the porch, breathing in shallow, frigid breaths.

There’s something coming out from behind the trees.

Closer and closer, and Eddie almost assumes the worst.

But it’s Nancy. There’s ash in her hair, and she’s drenched, coated in black sludge; her teeth flash as she smiles, a pocket knife gleaming in her hand.

“I made my own Gate,” she says.

Barely missing a beat, she tilts her head to the side to throw up. She wipes her mouth with the back of her sleeve, spreads more thick tar across her face.

Underneath everything, there’s a scarlet ring around her throat.

“Your brother,” is all Eddie can get out.

Her eyes blaze white-hot.

“Mike,” she says, clutching the phone so tightly, like she would do the very same if she could hold his hand. “It’s gone, it’s all gone.” And then, louder, louder, trembling, “And whoever’s fucking listening on here, get us help. I know you’re there. I won’t stop. I won’t—”

Eddie knows she says more. She must do.

But he can’t stop staring down at his hands. At the blood.

He steps forward—almost sways, and Nancy catches his wrist.

“Don’t go outside without me. Don’t talk to anyone apart from us, Eddie. Okay? They won’t touch you. I won’t let them.”

Eddie thinks he manages a nod. He believes her. Her jaw quivers, but her head’s held up high: if a gun was pressed to her head, he knows the bullet wouldn’t take.

The phone call continues, but the sound is muffled, underwater.

Eddie comes back to himself in the bedroom doorway.

Robin’s still by the bed.

Steve’s lying there, eyes closed. His stomach’s still bleeding, slow, slow, but the veins have gone, they’ve…

“Eddie.” Robin reaches out a hand to him. “Come on. You… you can feel him breathing from here.”

Why don’t you hate me?

He should leave. He should leave.

He doesn’t deserve…

But Robin keeps reaching, and Eddie’s on his knees next to her, a coward, you’re a fucking coward.

“Here,” Robin says.

She guides Eddie’s hand. Places it on Steve’s sternum, above the awful wound, above all the pain Eddie caused—

There. A rise and fall.

Just breathing.

Eddie’s breath catches.

“I thought—” He shudders. “I thought I’d—”

Robin must sense it before he does, before he even really knows it’s happening.

“You’re okay,” she says, and she pulls him into her embrace—keeps one hand on Steve as she does.

Good, Eddie thinks. He needs to know you’re there. He shouldn’t be alone.

He turns his face into Robin’s shoulder, and weeps.

#flayed steve harrington #body horror cw #pre steddie #steddie #steddie fic #steve and robin #eddie and robin #steve and the party #steve and dustin #eddie and dustin #eddie and nancy #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #dustin henderson

[waitimcomingtoo]

SLUT!

chapter eight: dying to see how this one ends

series masterlist

Following the fight, Peter saw the back of a squad car for the first time. He was taken straight to the local police station while few officers stayed behind to get stories from witnesses in the gym.

At the station, Peter was put in a holding cell and given an ice pack for his busted knuckles. After half an hour of sitting alone, the door to the cell opened and Brad Davis was pushed inside. He had two tissues stuffed up his nose and a black eye forming on his right eye. The boys made eye contact but felt too defeated to fear the other.

“What are you doing here?” Peter asked when Brad plopped beside him on the bench.

“What do you think? The police showed up and one of the soccer girls showed them the video of me saying I slipped something in Y/n’s drink. I can’t believe it. Did you know that’s a felony?”

“Uh, yeah.” Peter said flatly. “You’re really not supposed to do that.”

“How was I supposed to know? I’ve never done it before.” Brad mumbled. “And I wouldn’t again.”

“Would you really never do it again?” Peter asked skeptically. Brad was quiet for a minute and stared off at the wall. Peter silently handed over his ice pack and Brad accepted it with a sarcastic smile. He put it on his black eye and sighed.

“I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m so angry all the time. Or why I let it ruin my friendship with Y/n. Have you ever wanted a girl so badly that you start to hate her?”

“No.” Peter said without hesitation.

“Oh.” Brad said and turned away from Peter.

Another 30 minutes went by and Peter was starting to spiral. He paced back and forth in the cell while chewing his nails.

“What’s taking them so long?” He whined.

“They’ll get you when they’re done booking you. Don’t freak out. It’s annoying.” Brad mumbled.

“Of course I’m freaking out. If I get convicted, I’m going to jail.”

“Relax. You’ll be fine. Assault is a misdemeanor. And I’m sure your scrawny ass is a first offender so you’ll get a fine at best.” Brad rolled his eyes.

“Woah. How’d you know that?” Peter stopped pacing and looking at Brad in surprise.

“I’ve been arrested for misdemeanors before. My dad just bails me out.”

“Which I’m sure he’ll do this time.” Peter rolled his eyes and sat back down.

“No. I called him when they brought me in but my mom answered.” Brad said as he looked at the ground.

“What did she say?” Peter wondered when he saw how distant Brad sounded. Brad turned his face away from Peter and rubbed the back of his neck.

“She said her best friend in college killed herself after a boy told everyone she gave him an STD. She said she couldn’t handle the bullying.” Brad said quietly. Peter stared at him for a minute and debated making him feel worse. There was a lesson to be learned here and Peter needed to know Brad understood the gravity of his actions.

“You could’ve done the same to Y/n, you know.” Peter said in a soft voice. He wasn’t being accusatory, just honest.

“She never would’ve done that.” Brad scoffed but Peter could tell he didn’t believe himself.

“How do you know?” Peter asked. “You didn’t know her. And you didn’t let anyone know her either. You told everyone who she was and they believed you. You erased her. She very well could have hurt herself to take her name back.”

“I didn’t think it was that bad for her. It was just a joke.” Brad said after a long beat of silence.

“To you. To you, “slut” was just a word. To her, it was her entire identity. All because of you.” Peter told him, feeling angry again. He wasn’t worried about protecting Brads feelings anymore. Now, he wanted him to take some accountability. Brad was quiet for a minute as he thought about the way he treated you the past few years.

“The first time I called her a slut, I didn’t realize how easy it would be to do it a second time.” Brad admitted.

“Me either.” Peter realized and pictured your face the time he called you a slut. He blinked back tears as he replayed the night he lost you. Brad noticed Peter was tearing up and felt himself get emotional. He cleared his throat and tried to choke it down but he couldn’t stop the tears that threatened his eyes.

“I didn’t think I’d end up like this. I didn’t think I’d be this guy.” Brad said quietly.

“You don’t have to be this guy forever. You can change.” Peter told him.

“How?” Brad shrugged helplessly. “She’s never gonna forgive me.”

“She might not. But you can still apologize. And then be better to the next girl.”

“What if I can’t be better? What if this is all I am?”

“I don’t think is all you are. Y/n told me you used to be a good friend.”

“She said that?” Brad asked in surprise.

“Yeah. So I know you can be better. You just have to try.” Peter told him. While Brad thought about the conversation, Peter heard footsteps approaching the cell. He looked up and saw May walking up with an officer.

“Hey, jailbird.” May said while a tight, very sarcastic smile.

“May?” Peter got up and walked over to her.

“Come on. They said I can take you home. Isn’t that nice? I get to take my nephew home from jail.” She said sarcastically as a the officer unlocked the cell. Peter got out and immediately hugged May.

“May, I’m so sorry. I can explain everything.”

“You don’t have to. She already told me what happened.” May said and pointed through a window into the station lobby. Peter could see you sitting in one of the waiting room chairs and blinked in surprise.

“She’s here?” He asked May in disbelief.

“Yeah. She’s the one that called me. The cops told me she got here right after you did. That’s your girlfriend right?” May asked. Peter felt his heart sink when he realized he had yet to tell May that you had broken up.

“What did she tell you?” Peter asked to change the topic.

“She said you stood up for her when the boys were calling her a slut. But why do I feel like that’s now the whole story?” May asked skeptically. Peter looked her in the eyes and sighed knowing he was about to disappoint her.

“Because it’s not the whole story. I called her a slut too.” Peter admitted.

“My nephew called a woman a slut? Is that how I raised you?” May asked and folded her arms.

“No. It’s not.”

“Then why did you do that? I thought she was your girlfriend?”

“Because I was angry. And I wanted to hurt her the way she hurt me.”

“Hm. I see. And did you feel better after you called her that?” May asked him.

“No.” Peter sighed. “I felt worse.”

“I thought so. Go apologize. Now.” May turned him around and pushed him in your direction. Peter wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans before going out into the waiting room. When you saw him coming towards you, you stood up and nervously folded your arms.

“Hey.” He smiled weakly.

“Hi, Peter.” You nodded curtly.

“What are you doing here?” He asked you.

“I had to talk to the police to give my statement about Brads party.“ You explained and left out the party about wanting to make sure he was okay.

“My aunt said you told her what happened. Thank you for that. I don’t know how I would’ve explained to her what happened.”

“You’re welcome. And I should be thanking you too. You beat the shit out of Brad for me. I would’ve done it myself but I’m a little more of a kicker.” You halfheartedly joked, making Peter relax a little.

“You don’t have to thank me. I should’ve done it the first time I heard him call you a slut.” Peter replied. You shrugged in agreement as Peter thought back to that night at the party.

“And you should’ve beat me up when I called you one.” He added as he stared at the floor.

“Yeah. Maybe I should’ve.” You laughed softly. An awkward silence settled between you and neither of you knew what to say. Luckily, it didn’t last long as May came out into the waiting room and stood beside Peter.

“Ready to go home?” She asked him.

“I guess I don’t have any other choice since I am definitely not allowed back on campus.” Peter sighed.

“Actually, they were going to expel you but since I saw Brad throw the first punch, they lowered it to just a suspicion.“ You told him. Peter looked at you curiously and you smiled timidly.

“But Brad didn’t-“ Peter began.

“A lot of people saw him start the fight.” You shrugged. “The school understood that you were just acting in self defense. So don’t worry. Your scholarship is okay.”

“You covered for me?” Peter whispered in disbelief.

“Yeah, well. You covered me first.” You shrugged and avoided eye contact. Peter broke into a smile and you finally looked into his eyes to smile as well. The moment was interrupted by Brad shouting from his holding cell.

“Y/n!” He called to you. You gave Peter a confused look before motioning for him to follow you to where Brad was.

“What do you want?” You asked him.

“I wanted to tell you that I’m so sorry. About all of it.” Brad told you. You looked at Peter skeptically before looking back at Brad.

“You’re sorry?” You doubted.

“I am. I never meant for it to go this far. I don’t expect you to ever forgive me but I just need you to know how sorry I am.” Brad apologized. You smiled at the unexpected apology and nodded your head.

“I appreciate the apology, Brad. That’s not something I ever thought I’d hear from you.” You told him. Peter smiled as he watched the interaction and hoped what he had said to Brad is what inspired him to try to be better.

“Now that we’re cool, do you think you could tell them I didn’t actually slip something in your drink?” Brad asked. “I’ll get kicked out of school if they convict me and my parents already said they’re not bailing me out.”

Your smile dropped when you realized the apology was just a way to gain your trust so he could ask for a favor. He didn’t actually care and he definitely hadn’t changed. Peter shut his eyes in disappointment and hung his head in shame. He thought his conversation with Brad would’ve had some effect on him but it clearly didn’t.

“Oh. You want me to tell the police that you didn’t do something that we both know you actually did do?”

“Yes. Please?” Brad pleaded as he rested his cheek against one of the bars.

“Oh. I get it. Kinda like how you told people that I did things we both know I didn’t do?” You asked and tilted your head to the side. Peter folded his lips to hold back his laughter when he realized what you were doing. Unfortunately for Brad, he hadn’t caught on yet.

“Yeah. Like that.” Brad nodded eagerly. You laughed warmly and nudged Peter, prompting him to laugh as well. Brad was a little confused but laughed as well and assumed you were going to take his side. Your laughter came to an abrupt halt as you faced Brad.

“No.” You stated.

“What? But you have to. I could go to jail.” Brad said and shook the bars angrily.

“And I hope you do.” You said simply.

“What? Come on. Don’t do this to me. Peter already got his revenge.”

“That’s right. He did. But I didn’t.” You reminded him. “And personally, I think there are enough pathetic, predatory losers in New York. Serving some time might knock those worrisome traits of yours loose.”

“You need to really think about this. If I go to jail, I could lose everything.” Brad whispered harshly.

“I lost everything.” You shrugged. “My friends, my dignity, my name. Now it’s your turn.”

“Don’t do this. I’ll get kicked out of school. And it’s impossible to get a job when you have a conviction. Especially for something like this. You have to help me. This will ruin my reputation.”

“At least your reputation will be accurate. Mine never was.” You replied as you looked him right in the eyes. Brads face crumbled and he found himself at a loss for words.

“Goodbye, Brad.” You smiled tightly and walked away. Peter followed after you and joined up with May back in the waiting room.

“Would you like me to drive you back to campus?” May offered as you all walked out of the station together.

“Thank you. But I think I’m gonna wander around the city for a bit. Campus is a little…hostile right now. I think I want to avoid all the attention for a little bit.”

“Well you are welcome to join us for dinner if you’d like.” She smiled kindly.

“I don’t think she wants to do that, May.” Peter mumbled. You made eye contact with him and exchanged polite smiles.

“Thank you again, but I think it’s for the best if I don’t. I would like to talk, though.” You said to Peter.

“Yeah. Of course.” Peter nodded. May got into the car to give the two of you some privacy. You and Peter stood facing each other but didn’t make eye contact. Peter didn’t know what to say, so he got straight to the point.

“Look, I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I called you a slut. And that I didn’t believe you at the party. There is no excuse for what I said and did. I was angry so I called you exactly what I knew would hurt you. I guess that I’m not as good of a guy as either of us thought. You deserve a gentleman. And I’m sorry I couldn’t be that for you.”

“It’s not okay that you called me that. But I forgive you.” You told him.

“You do?” Peter smiled in surprise.

“I do. If you hadn’t gotten Brad and his friends to admit what they had done, I never would’ve gotten my name back. I had people I’ve never even seen before apologizing to me. So if you can risk your scholarship to get my reputation back, I can forgive you.”

“I’d do anything for you.” He told you as he stared into your eyes. You could see how guilty he felt when you looked into his eyes but you couldn’t get him using that word out of his head.

“Where do we go from here?” He asked after a beat of silence. You put a smile on your face and patted Peters shoulders.

“From here, you’re gonna go eat dinner with your aunt. I’m gonna go get some food with my friends, since I actually have them now. And we’re gonna see each other on Thursday in class.”

“Oh. Right. Okay. I’ll see you in class then.” Peter smiled tightly and hoped it didn’t let his disappointment show. He started walking to his car when he heard your voice again.

“Hey Peter?” You called and he turned around.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for getting your knuckles bloody for me.” You smiled at him.

“Anytime.” He smiled back. He got into the passenger seat of Mays car and waited until he couldn’t see you in the side view mirror before breaking down. May rubbed his back and said nothing as Peter cried in his hands.

“I love her. And I ruined it. I fucked it all up.” He cried.

“You don’t know that.” May said kindly. “You might still get a chance to make things right.”

“I don’t think so. She just wants to be friends.“

“I’m sorry, honey.”

“It’s okay. She could’ve written me out of her life entirely. At least we get to be friends now.” Peter said as he wiped his face. May frowned and cupped his chin.

“Let’s go home, honey.” May said. “It’ll be better in the morning.

In the morning, Peter woke up to an email confirming his suspension. He was allowed to return to campus a week later and when he did, he had everyone’s eyes on him. He kept his head down and made his way to the chemistry class he had with you. You exchanged friendly smiles with each other but that was it. Your relationship stayed in a sorta friends but sorta strangers area until the end of the semester. With one week until finals, you finally talked again.

“Hey.” You said as you caught up to him after class. Peter looked around the hallway for who you might be talking to and found no one.

“Me?” He asked.

“Yeah, you. I wanted to show you something.” You smiled coyly and handed him the test you had just gotten back in class. Peter saw a big “96” written on the top in red ink, your highest score yet.

“Woah, 96? That’s really awesome. Great job. I knew you could do it.” Peter smiled proudly and handed it back to you.

“Thank you. I never thought I’d actually pass this class. Turns out I just needed a tutor.” You said with a small shrug. Peter smiled fondly at you and nodded his head. He didn’t know why you were suddenly talking to him, but he didn’t mind it.

“You were always smart.” He insisted. “You just needed someone to explain it in a new way. I’m proud of you. That should go up on the tiny fridge in your dorm.”

“If I had a magnet or even knew where to get one, I would.” You joked. Peter laughed before a comfortable silence settled between you. You looked at each other for a moment before you took a deep breath and looked down at the test.

“So, uh, we have our final coming up soon so I was wondering if you were free to study together sometime? Maybe in the library?” You asked him.

“Oh, sure. I can definitely help you.” He nodded enthusiastically.

“Great, thanks. And maybe we can get some food after.” You suggested.

“Yeah. Totally.” He agreed.

“Like a date.” You added. Peters eyes lit up as he processed what you had said.

“You want to go on a date? With me?”

“I’ve been thinking.” You began. “You were the first person at this school who took the time to get to know me. And in that time, I got to know you too. I know you’re not a mean person. I know you aren’t like the guys who used to make fun of me. And I know I’ve said plenty of things in moments of anger that I wished I could take back. So I have a proposition for you.”

“Which is?” Peter wondered.

“If you ever call me that word again, we’re done for good. No second chances. But since I believe you’re sorry and wouldn’t do it again, I would like to give us another shot. What do you think?”

“I would also like that very much please.” Peter said immediately. You laughed at his quick answer and held out your hand. Peter took it and you walked down the hallway together. He walked you to your next class, just like old times, and stopped outside the door. You were about to say goodbye when he pulled you into a hug. You melted into his arms and hugged him back, closing all the distance that had grown between you.

“Thank you for giving me a second chance.” He said for just you to hear.

“I had too. I missed you too much for that to have been our end.”

“I missed you too.” He said as he pulled out of the hug but kept his arms around you. You looked into his eyes for a minute and smiled softly.

“For the record, I loved you too.” You told him. Peter gasped a little before breaking into a cool and collected smile.

“For the record, I was all in from the moment you borrowed my pen. Not that it’s a competition or anything.” He shrugged, making you laugh a little.

“You know, I still have that pen. It’s really good, too. Is that your thing? You give helpless girls pens and hope they’ll fall in love with you?” You teased him.

“That’s exactly what I do. You’re just the first it’s ever worked on.” He humored you.

“Oh yeah? And just how many girls have you given pens too?a rough estimate would be nice. I’d like to know who my competition is.”

“Oh, jeez. That’s hard to say. It’s gotta be hundreds of girls. Maybe even thousands. I’ve given a pen to more girls than you could ever imagine.“

“Wow. Thats a lot of girls to give pens too. I didn’t realize you were such a busy boy. Are you some kind of slut or something?” You asked with a slight gasp to poke fun at the reputation that used to weigh you down.

“I think I might be actually, yeah.” He sighed and shrugged his shoulder.

“I see.” You chuckled. “That must be why we get along so well.

“Wait, why?” Peter wondered and no longer followed the joke.

“Because.” You playfully rolled your eyes. “Takes one to know one.”

THE END

Tag List 💋

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@classygladiatortidalwave @miwagila @sarcasm-and-stiles @hitoshislut @misspascalpunk

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@bubblegumholland @starsval @changingdonnie

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x y/n

[trappedinafantasy37]

I have never understood this whole notion that the companions don't take Durge seriously when they talk about their urges. it's not that they don't take Durge seriously, I just don't think they comprehend just how bad it is for Durge.

Shadowheart acknowledges that everyone has these thoughts and everyone seems to indulge in them. But you and the others have a conscious. She truly believes that you have the ability to fight them because she has faith that you do have a conscious.

Gale interprets it as if it just ordinary anger, something that everyone has from time to time. But, he also stresses that thoughts like that should remain only as thoughts because he knows that they should not be acted on.

Lae'zel says that there is nothing wrong with enjoying a little bit of murder, as long as there is a purpose to it and isn't done too often and without restraint.

Wyll also sees it as anger, but feels that that anger is justified considering what everyone has been through the past few days. However, he sees no issue with the problem, as long as it is directed to those who deserve it (like your enemies).

Karlach immediately applauds you for admitting your problem and suggests that you can either change, or also direct your urges out on those who deserve t.

Halsin perceives your situation as any other illness, but one that you may not be able to rid yourself from. He advises you to engage in mindfullness and self control.

None of these come off as people who aren't taking Durge seriously, but merely people who do not comprehend that the urge is pathological. Astarion, Minthara, and Jaheira are the only ones that truly know and understand just how bad it is for Durge from the get go.

Astarion will actually approach Durge if he notices the symptoms as he himself knows what it's like to be feral and driven by impulses he cannot control. All the companions (except Minthara) will tell Durge to resist the urges but Astarion is by far the most convincing because he has literally been in Durges place. He truly and fully understands what it means to have another force compel you to do things you don't want to do.

Minthara has personally witnessed people driven by darker urges both in Menzoberranzan and by being the plaything of Orin. When Durge confesses to her, she will admit that she fears that Durge is like those that even Lolth would destroy for the greater good (and Lolth has no concept of greater good, that's how serious it is). She admires the power of the slayer, but she believes it to be a power that should be controlled. If the slayer cannot control themselves, then she will destroy it.

Jaheira clocks Durge as Bhaalspawn not too long after joining camp. Considering that she has personally traveled with Bhaalspawn in her past, she literally does know better than anyone how deep things go for Durge. She has witnessed it herself, many times.

When Durge reveals to everyone about being Bhaalspawn, they are all surprised (except Minthara and Jaheira) because they are forced to recognize that these aren't fleeting thoughts, but the core nature of Durge. They are forced to recognize for the first time that these are persistent thoughts that Durge has to resist every single damn day. They are forced to acknowledge that if not for the incredible restrain, Durge would have killed them all.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #shadowheart #gale #lae'zel #karlach #halsin #astarion #minthara #jaheira #durge

[sjmgirlie]

“I see so much potential for Lucien and Elain”

Where?

There has not been a single scene in 2 novels and 1 novella since we found out they were mates that alludes to any potential at all?

They haven’t even had one conversation where Feyre isn’t there carrying it? He lives on the other side of Prythian? Can't stand to be around her? She wants to leave the room each time he's there? Specifically sits away from him? Like where is the potential other than some sort of imagery (which I'll get to)? It ain't there.

“I can’t imagine a single conversation happening between Elain and Azriel”

Really?

They had one the first day they met. Talking about flying.

Not to mention on Solstice they stayed up to talk to each other when everyone else went to bed.

How do we know they didn’t talk when they were in the garden together?

“Azriel just stifles Elain. She’s just a damsel in distress”

You sure?

He literally gave her the knife he had literally never let anyone touch in 500 years to protect herself? Cassian didn’t want Nesta finding the troves either? Are we trying to say that a man who wants to protect a women is suddenly.. unattractive? Like idk about you, but I would love for a bat boy to save me lol. Or tell me not to do something for my safety. But okay.

“It’s just lust”

Let’s not even go there because a male willing to participate in a blood duel and renouncing his own religion is not just trying to have sex

“Lucien is the son of Helion and Elain needs sun!”

Ya?

Well Lucien has never had sun imagery. It’s fire from his Autumn Court heritage and in Hybern he released himself with SPELLS. Feyre was actually the person to cast out a bright light to break the wards, and we find out later that it’s a gift from the Dawn court. Lucien tells us this. Lucien has fire magic and is a spell cleaver, not the sun. ELAIN is the sun. Day court does not equal sun for Lucien. Sorry.

“Elain will never accept Azriel’s profession”

Oh?

Pretty sure she’s already accepted everyone in the Night Court. They all have jobs that are borderline sus. And considering the countless instances where we see Elain is actually very observant, I’m sure she knows what he does, yet she still leans into his touch. Not to mention Mr. fashion police Cassian also tells us that Elain is not a loyal dog. That she saw everything Nesta did and understood. Doesn't seem like she's not accepting to me.

"Azriel just wants a mate!!"

Seriously?

If the male wants a mate why would he bother spending time with a female he knows has one? Why wouldn't he be sailing around Prythian looking for her? Because she sure as shit isn't in the Night Court. And let's be honest, I don't think he will even be getting a mate if it's not Elain through some sort of different bond. Because there is no one in canon right now that could be his mate, and we only have 2 more novels and 1 novella left. And his book is next. Apparently we can all agree on that, but can't accept Elain is also getting the next book, aka their book together. And no, Gwyn is not his mate, because it would have already snapped into place. We had an 800 page book where they were in the vicinity of each other through all the training monologues (so maybe more 400 pages) and it didn't happen? Rhys knew before they left under the mountain. Literally happened at the end of the book. Cassian knew the first day he met Nesta. Lucien knew the second Elain took her first breath lol... it's not happening.

"Elain should be with Lucien and they would be High Lord and Lady of Day Court!!"

Ew?

You want to kill off Helion??? I want the novella to be about him and the Lady of Autumn tbh (even though it's likely Mor). Like? No, I need some sort of scene with Helion in each remaining book. I need more of him, biblically and spiritually. Also, have we forgotten “You can not resent my decision to lead a small quiet life..” ??? Elain said this in ACOSF to Nesta, like, do you think this girl wants to be High Lady all of a sudden? No. She doesn't.

"Elain needs to give Lucien a chance!!"

Why?

I swear everyone who says this has never been in that "Oh, well he's just such a nice guy!! Give him a chance" type of situation. Like why should I? WHY SHOULD SHE? He literally was an accomplice in her human life being stripped away from her. Should they end up being friends? Yes. Together romantically? No. If she doesn't want to give him a chance, which she clearly doesn't, then she doesn't need to. Stop diminishing choice in character arcs. Her whole arc, with Azriel and Lucien, is centred around choice in the first place.

"Azriel's shadows danced for Gwyn, so they are endgame"

Huh?

Don't get me wrong, the shadows are a part of Azriel, but I don't think they literally determine his life for him. Actually, I know this 100%. His shadows are under his command. Also, they danced for her breath, not Gwyn. Which is weird. Not to mention his shadows alert him in times of trouble and to gain information. Is it not weird they didn't alert him that she was there? Like that's not being wing-shadowy, that's screaming something sus is going on. (And no, I'm not anti-gwyn or even saying she's evil. Is she a lightsinger? Probably. The evidence is there. Does it mean she's bad? No.)

"Azriel's shadows hide from Elain, so they can't be together"

Lol?

Again, are Azriel's shadows the ones that command him? Or does he command them? And his shadows have disappeared for half of the IC. They disappear when there is no threat. They disappear when he doesn't want them there. Pretty sure Azriel's whole character doesn't just revolve around shadows. Sure, they are a huge part of his identity so far, but do we truly think that he wants to be reduced to them? Doubt it. He's probably had a very hard time coming to terms with the fact people have always looked at him differently because of it. I wouldn't be surprised if him becoming a Shadowsinger (since they came to him later in life in the dungeon) was a result of unfathomable trauma. Azriel does not only equal shadows only. We just don't know him yet.

"The BC sunk Eriel"

Truly?

You mean the bonus chapter where Azriel was about to get on his knees for a taste? The bonus chapter where Elain was giving him offer and permission? The bonus chapter where Rhys was the reason they DIDN'T actually kiss? The bonus chapter where Rhys became their obstacle and lifted the stakes not only on a personal level (with Elain thinking she was rejected, with Az and Rhys having a wedge between them) and politically (the potential downfall with god knows how many courts since Lucien is a drifter and the human lands)? Like we need the stakes!!!! This is what makes it worthwhile to read?? Forbidden romance? That should be enough intrigue. Plus anyone who genuinely thinks an author would write a male character willing to drop to his knees for a female (we've seen this with both Rhys and Cassian btw) only to have him move on in the next book is just idk. It's not possible. It would be so UNROMANTIC for them not to end up together. Like I would never forget Azriel wanted Elain's coochie so bad only to end up with someone else??? Ya, that's not romantic.

"Elain and Tamlin would be perfect mates"

Throws Up

So Elain is going to go to the only court where there is no gardening because the HL magic keeps everything in eternal bloom, only to shack up with her sister's ex who that same sister almost married and her mates ex best friend? Make it make sense. You're truly showing your hatred for stereotypical feminine qualities my friend. Tamlin needs some time to lick his wombs and maybe learn how to cook. He needs to stop isolating himself. And again, Elain is not his mate. Also, let's just add Elain is not ever leaving the Night Court. The series is about the Archeron sisters, and her sister is the literal High Lady of NC, not to mention her other sister is mated to the Illyrian General. Like be for real right now.

The End. 🌹🗡❤️🦇

#eriel #pro eriel #elain x azriel #elain #anti gwynriel #anti elucien #i thought it was obvious #it is sarah #just clearly not for everyone

[bonefall]

So, your Clear Sky post is absolutely horrifying, but it was very needed, so thank you. What are your general thoughts on tackling his abuse for the AU? Like you've said, pretending he's a good guy is not the way to go, but are you planning on toning down *some* of the situations, just to give some of the cats a break? Clear Sky is a very realistic depiction of abusers, but that seems to come across even without victim number 25, yknow? I'm very curious about how you'd like to go about this.

My most recent big change was bringing Slash back into the fold, because I realized that it was actually a disservice to not address where DOTC's themes dip into Colonialism. It's a hard topic, and I'm still trying to work out the details, but I realized it was important.

With how BB!DOTC is such a MASSIVE overhaul, to properly address abuse and the ways it impacts you, ableism and its violence, and xenophobia broadly, a huge reworking of Slash belonged here too. He's one of the greatest examples of how badly WC demonizes non-Clanborn cats. I shouldn't dance around it.

That's what I need to do with Skystar.

MANY of his victims have happier endings than canon, though. Bumble is one of the most famous, bumped up into a major character and directly responsible for the formation of ThunderClan. Bright Storm is taking most of Gray Wing's roles. Birch and Alder are getting examined, with either a father who wants his kids back or Milkweed as the mate of Misty.

A lot of people will die because of him, even more will be hurt, but I see BB!DOTC as a story about victims and survivors.

Others might grab POVs here and there, but as a response to canon which I feel is Clear Sky's story told in many parts, I center this rewrite around Thunder Storm. The path of kindness he marches down, with love and with anger, and the people he helps.

So BB!Star Flower...

Previously I was playing her as ENTIRELY just manipulating Clear Sky. She was loyal to One Eye and trying to get at Skystar to bleed him dry for 8 lives to sacrifice; but connected to Thunderstar over recognizing him as a victim who deserves her idea of justice. So, she offers Thunderstar the final kill, so her father will be grateful to him and he'll get power AND the death of his abuser.

(When Thunderstar looks upon Skystar, pathetic and neutralized down to one life, he thinks about the collateral damage that will descend upon the forest if he accepts the deal. He decides that he has found the line between Justice and Justification. Of course he wants the power to make his enemies cower, protect his people, and eliminate Clear Sky so he never threatens them again; that's not the problem.

He can still do these things. He wouldn't NEED the power of a war god to do so.

But if One Eye returns, he will be endlessly hungry, ruthlessly dedicated to revenge, and set out to devour the whole forest. Everything would get worse, and even more people he loves would die. It's where his desire to destroy a monster would lead to him BECOMING one.)

Even on its face, it was previously missing an element. There's a step between "Starf decides to bring One Eye back" and "Starf offers Thunderstar the final kill" that was bare. This is the piece that was missing-- That she, herself, is trying to reach out to the only person who's ever really understood her.

But more importantly... I do feel this topic belongs here, in BB!DOTC. Abuse is a MAJOR theme. SKYSTAR is a monster already. He's harmed two wives in BB (Bright Storm and Falling Cry) and played toxic games with all three kits (Thunder Storm, Pale Sky, Tiger Sky).

And I'd avoid Star Flower being abused... why? Because it's uncomfortable to confront the pattern that Clear Sky displays? That in-canon, he tries to cut all his victims into the same ideal shape, from Storm to Thunder to Star Flower? ...it should be uncomfortable. Everything that I described in Clear Sky Is A Monster is rooted in the same desire for control, power, and punishment most abusive people share, he just happens to be a severe example.

Yes. That includes how he treats his child and romantic partners. The parallels that are drawn between Starf and Thunder are there because he wants power in the form of obedience. Starf replaces the son as a narrative award for his "growth" of not killing random people anymore for a while.

A cookie cutter is an effective tool because IT ONLY MAKES ONE SHAPE.

You know what's more uncomfortable? Reading canon!DOTC and seeing someone who hurt you reflected almost perfectly in the character the writers think did nothing wrong. Because of "good intentions" that were not there.

I will say though, just to be clear; I don't see a purpose in being more than PG-13 about serious topics for this project. I promise none of my intentions have changed. Nothing will be more graphic or gorey than canon WC-- just more intentional.

I'm keeping the sacrifice because it's dope. No one is taking this from me. Girl Moment: Killed her awful husband 8 times to count as 8 sacrifices and offered the last life to her buddy as a show of good will. How else do you make friends outside of high school

But I know now that Star Flower NEEDS to keep the canon fact she has very little agency, UNTIL that moment she snaps.

She's sacrificing one abuser to try and bring back a bigger, badder one, because in spite of everything, her father One Eye always made her feel safe. Even though he promised her off to Skystar, and expected her to be willing to die for him. She's followed every command, every order, past the death of his mortal vessel.

The first, and only, selfish choice she's ever made was in reaching out to Thunderstar to offer him the power of her father.

Thunderstar's Justice is a story about a Thunder Storm at the pinnacle of his arc, how the survivors of his Clan are settling into the new normal after the carnage of The First Battle, how Skystar's arrogance brings a violent god to the Forest... and the connection Thunderstar makes with the daughter of a monster.

#Kronk meme: ''Oh Yeah. It's all coming together'' #I'll be making the fragments in another post #Just because this one's getting really long #It works well as an explanation of my intentions #I think I had been making a mistake previously to conceive of BB!Starf as a femme fatale who seduced Sky #Again: I'm not perfect! As I analyze and re-read with a more critical eye. My art changes. #Tho I will admit I do like the idea of a Starf who is totally cognizant of how she can manipulate a villain #Into doing what she wants. I do love myself a powerful and scheming woman #It's that it didn't fit my story or my themes OR even the purpose of BB as a fixit that addresses canon #Better bones au #BB!DOTC #BB!Star Flower #BB!Skystar #BB!Thunder Storm #Also imo this philosophy will let me make BB!One Eye what I think he deserves and works best as #THE WORSE OF TWO EVILS #The Tyrant of Tyrants #And man.... the idea that Skystar becomes the Clan patron of war... #The God of Summer laughs at him. #''Outdone and reeling your wounded pride speaks the words your tender mouth can never say'' #''That you were outclassed and now you obsess over the bigger monster you aren't good enough to become'' #''You fell into the step of a lion and think you can replicate what my paw does without effort.'' #Cw abuse #Tw abuse #Abuse #Child abuse

[theonevoice]

Maggie's spelling mistake

Ok, I've just had a wild thought about this moment, that led many people to theorise that Maggie could be a demon in disguise, given that 1) everything is intentional in this show, so the accent on the "ugrency" detail cannot be meaningless, and 2) demons are repeatedly characterised, of all things, as being bad at spelling.

To be honest, I cannot bring myself to believe the "Maggie is a demon" theory, but I agree that the emphasis on her spelling mistake is weird and it very much looks like a hint.

And now I think I finally have a hypothesis that I like (not because it's plausible but because I find it funny) about what it could be hinting at.

Let me list a couple of premises first:

- we know that when Aziraphale and Crowley "do a miracle together" it ends up "working a little too well"

- we have evidence of animals brought back from death (the dove) and of people brought back from Hell (Mr Brown)

- we have the Nina Sosanya and Maggie Service recasting choice, that I was obviously very happy with but never really understood

So, when in s1 Aziraphale and Crowley meet Mary Hodges, former Sister Mary Loquacious, we see Crowley initiating the hypnosis miracle and Aziraphale "stepping in" and ending it.

He is not just reversing it, he is working within the perimeter of the "miraculous window" opened by Crowley and weaving in an instruction before closing it:

So here's the wild part: what if, upon meeting Crowley after eleven years, Mary Hodges, now successful business owner, was taken back to that fatal night of the Antichrist and her dream of "whatever you like best" got mixed with shreds of memories? What if the satanic order who clearly didn't appreciate her turned into an abusive partner who "never really liked her"? What if the assignment to go fetch some bisquits from the refectory turned into the idea of having a nice little coffeeshop full of sweets and cakes? What if the contact with "His Royal Excellency the American ambassador" caused said coffeeshop to be right in front of a certain bookshop that happens to be an Embassy to Heaven? What if Sister Theresa Garrulous, the only person who that night had showed Mary some validation (although only for a happy miscommunication incident), turned into a neighbour shopkeeper with a strong bond to her mother superior great-grandmother, who keeps coming back to her coffeeshop, over and over, to grab the superfluous child a cup of coffee and have a little friendly chat?

The unknown and unforeseen power of a miracle performed by both Aziraphale and Crowley, although not intentionally and only as a result of a partial overlap of miraculous actions, could have make Mary's dream actually and literally come true. So we are not seeing a funny casting choice, but two actual characters from s1 transformed by the accidental interference of an overflowing miracle and Mary's confused memory-dream cocktail.

But if Maggie was indeed Sister Theresa...

...that would mean that the miracle did not just magically get Mary/Nina a coffeeshop in Soho, it also brought back Theresa/Maggie from Hell. So her "ugrency" spelling mistake could be there not as a sign that she is a demon herself, but as the trace of a sort of demonic contamination, a bad-grammar-contagion either from her time as a satanic nun or from her eleven years in Hell after Hastur killed her.

And if this was the case, wouldn't it be convenient that the only person who can corroborate her family history is none other than Mr Fell, the one unknowingly involved in her comeback, possibly not even knowing himself that there never was any great-grandmother selling records in the corner of his bookshop in the Twenties?

So this:

this could literally be Mary's dream come true, where miss Hodges' entrepreneurial side was fused with scraps of Sister Mary's memories from the night of the Antichrist.

Of course, this could be just Neil Gaiman jokingly referring to Maggies Service's previous role as a satanic nun with demonic acquaintances, but where's the fun in choosing that interpretation when we can run wild with outrageous theories like this?

Also, I like to imagine Mr Brown inexplicably starting to make spelling mistakes all over his impeccable tax returns after his trip to Hell...

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens speculation #good omens thoughts #good omens theory #good omens maggie

[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

Hey, 🧀 anon here! Since you haven’t watched Made in Abyss, I’ll keep the request for another time >->

But, since the requests are closing soon (congrats on 100 followers btw), I came up with a different request: Can I please have some headcanons for Eula, Lumine and Jean with a reader that fights with a frying pan? They have formal training in sword fighting, but they use a frying pan cause they like to hear it go “bonk” when it hits things. (Can be romantic or platonic, up to you). Thx!✌🏽

(A pleasure to make your acquaintance 🧀 Anon! And I intend to watch made in the abyss one day so I’ll be sure to say when I do! Also, thanks! Still not sure what in the world I did to get 100 followers but I’ll ensure I don’t disappoint! Also, for some reason I decided to be sad for Jean's part, my apologies)

NOW THEN! YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND!

Warnings: Slight Angst for Jean's part

Lumine

Lumine was convinced you needed serious help the first time she saw you wander out of Mondstadt with a beat up frying pan that had a very long handle and a commission for a hilichurl encampment in hand.

Turns out, you did not need help, at least not with the Hilichurls.

Lumine still thinks that you need some serious mental help for fighting with only a frying pan and a pyro vision because “You like the funny sound” your pan makes when cracking someone’s head open like an egg.

And what makes it worse is that you know how to use a sword!

Hell! You're probably one of the best duelists in Mondstadt even with the frying pan! 

With an actual blade you’d probably be one of the best in Teyvat!

Lumine has seen you fight people like Jean and you nearly took her head off several times with that damn pan!

It was infuriating to her!

She has no Idea why it does either!

Well that's a lie, she knows exactly why it infuriates her but she won’t admit it.

Ever.

Or at least until she can prove that you need to use something else aside from a large frying pan.

Unfortunately people from all over have yet to force you on the back foot due to how unorthodox you and your pan is.

Catching the tips of spears and swords in the pan before redirecting them and using your new position to slam the side of the pan into their faces.

Blocking greatsword swings with the back of the pan before pushing the attacker off balance and countering.

Swiping away arrows and catalysts before hitting them with a storm of blows.

An almost perfect balance of offense and defense that was effective in duels and against handfuls of attackers and useful against hordes when paired with your Pyro vision.

She can count the amount of times she’s seen you use an actual sword on one hand minus four fingers.

And even then that was only when you were faced with a small army of ruin sentinels!

AND YOU STILL HAD THE PAN IN YOUR OTHER HAND!

So eventually Lumine had to admit that she would never find a way to stop you and your pan shenanigans.

But in doing so she had to admit something to herself she’d much rather not.

As she traveled with you, got to know you and tried to get you to pick up an actual weapon.

She had fallen for you and your antics.

The Traveler and her Pan Wielding compatriot with their mascot, Emergency Food!

It sounded like a bad circus act.

But she had to admit.

She liked the way it sounded in her head.

Eula Lawrence

Eula was someone who most people avoided interacting with or talking to.

Even still, she knew of you.

Hell, everyone knows of you.

Kind of hard to miss the adventurer who swings a pan around in place of a sword because of a love for the sound it makes when cracking open a skull.

That and no one understood why such a grand duelist never used a sword.

Yeah, most people tend to give you a wide berth.

Almost as wide as the one people gave Eula.

And considering you both ran in the same circles you two were bound to run into each other eventually.

When the two of you finally did run into each other, it was an interesting event.

Mostly because you killed a Lawlachurl by crushing its skull with your pan and laughing maniacally.

Eula knew then and there that you were the type of person who didn’t care about appearances or social faux pas.

It was something Eula thought more people needed.

And it was something that made Eula begin to take interest in you.

That and your propensity for violence with cooking utensils.

So the two of you began to get to know each other.

And in the process Eula realized something else about you.

You were exactly the type of person she liked.

And you were the person she had fallen for.

Jean Gunnhildr

You and Jean had known eachother since the both of you were young enough to run through the fields and streets of Mondstadt without care.

Long enough to develop a crush on you.

Despite your… love for swinging a Frying Pan over people’s heads.

Jean truly has no Idea what was going through your mind when you decided to have a Frying Pan as your weapon.

Especially since you were one of the best duelists she knew.

But considering the… personality quirks of everyone she knew…

You were by far one of the more normal people in her group of friends.

But Jean loathed to admit that, all because of that one word.

Friends.

That's all the both of you were to each other, no matter how much she wanted to change it.

What a cowardly woman she was.

But no longer, she was the one who was to be named the Acting Grandmaster once Grandmaster Varka left on his expedition.

That is when she will ask you.

When she’s backed by the strength and bravery of those who came before her.

Unfortunately, the world had decided against something like that happening just yet.

As you were one of the knights chosen to leave with Grandmaster Varka.

And Jean had no idea.

At least until she walked into your room, only to find it barren with a note addressed to her on the bed.

A note that told her that the both of you felt very much the same about one another.

A note that would be the last she heard of you for a very, very long while.

#lumine x reader #eula x reader #jean gunhildr x reader #eula lawrence #eula genshin impact #jean gunnhildr #genshin #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader #lumine #genshin impact

[callmeklair]

unrequited [epilogue]

« it's going to be a long journey »

Yui didn't know how she was supposed to face Reiji after what she just witnessed, no, more than that she is disgusted by the fact how their own father, Karlheinz, despite being aware of his son’s presence continued to say and show such horrendous things.

Should she confront Reiji or walk out and think for some time???

she is not prepared for either.

though it was too late to ponder on those thoughts as Reiji already got his hands on her and took her to Eden’s garden.

To Reiji it was most obvious what he should do, after all he has spent two lifetimes with Yui.

communicate.

he knows, at some point she'll blame herself, that's why he needs to talk with her. he needs to.

after arriving at the garden, both of them were quiet for some time, debating with words that'll sound proper instead of worsening things.

“Reiji-san you remember, right?”

ah, how badly he hoped that would be the last thing she'll ask.

“yes.”

“....”

“....”

“look Yui I can explain–”

“no I understand.”

“wait it's not what you think–”

“no, no, no, don't worry. I'm not misunderstanding things. even though your reason might not be identical to mine. I'm genuinely alright.”

“???? what are you-”

“I don't want Shu to remember. you heard that already right?”

Reiji was silent. he was so confused on Yui's sudden behavior. the girl who is always loyal and would rather die than fall in love with someone else has given up?

he knew how strong her love was. he even heard her genuine reasons on why she gave up on Shu, but something doesn't sit right with him.

was that the only reason?

more than that, she declared she loves him?

he should be happy to hear that but why is he not able to accept it?

“was that the only reason you gave up on Shu?”

Yui opened her mouth to say something but paused for a minute.

“maybe it's all my fault.”

“how?”

she shook her head.

“you are Reiji. you already have a speculation don't you.”

“please stop being so mysterious, that's so unlike you. Yui.” yes he knows the answer but he is also starting to get afraid at the sight of how her eyes are slowly starting to darken and becoming identical to his. he is trembling internally. he needs to convince her. but before that…

he slowly brings her into his embrace, rubbing her back gently to ease her. she is trying to be brave but she is doing that by putting all the weight on her. until she lets it all out properly, she'll keep sinking into the abyss.

on the other hand, Yui is a little dumbfounded at Reiji's actions. it's so unlike him. but even though it's not like him, she understood bit by bit what he is trying to do. after all, even though he is stroking gently, his hands are stiff.

she laughed.

this is no situation to laugh at but his small efforts and actions are making her giddy. she laughed with tears in her eyes as she finally let it all out.

gritting her teeth while the tears streamed down her cheeks, she hugged him back tightly.

“it's all my fault. it's all my fault… Reiji-san. why do we all have to go through a trial just because of my heart and reach someone’s expectations? why do you all have to do those things?”

he kept rubbing her back, letting her wet his favorite black coat, as he looked at a far distance.

“Shu had to cut the vibora leader’s head just for the sake of freeing me and you all had to face the vibora’s wrath while almost getting killed. and then what was the end result? we were sent back to square one because we didn't meet the expectations.”

“at first I badly wanted Shu to remember but then it crossed my mind. Shu changed by coming out of his comfort zone and went through all that length to protect me, only for us to end like this. even though he won't show it, he'll continuously self blame himself everyday for failing to protect me.”

“but more than that, as you already know, I was starting to lose my mind by being stuck in this animesic world all alone as I desperately pestered Shu to remember me like a mad woman. I was starting to get crazy. and if he would have regained his memories and saw me in such a state, it would have added fuel to the fire to his self-blame.”

for Reiji, love was a new word. if anyone told him such a thing, he would mock it and call it a waste of time.

it might be hard to understand Yui's way of thinking when it comes to love, but he'll do his best to get it for her.

“those tea times with you were my only solace. contradictory to my solemn days I spent forcing Shu to remember, I was calm and collected with you. devoting time in your presence made me rethink and differentiate things. it helped me to not lose my mind. maybe that's when, unknowingly, I fell for you. everytime, after I visited Shu, my head was dizzy as I felt myself slowly go numb. slowly feeling like throwing things around to vent it all out.”

“Yui…” there was this one time, he heard things breaking in the bathroom. at that time he thought she was just being clumsy but was she having a hysterical fit then?

was she becoming like Subaru’s mother? was he too late!??

it's like she sensed his thoughts and patted his back to prove otherwise.

she is alright.

Reiji was completely clueless what to say as nobody has ever relied on him or had a heart to heart conversation with him.

heck, he never even initiated such things and never cared if there was a misunderstanding. but now that he is with Yui, it's different.

maybe he should start with something simple?

“I'll support you” he slowly lifted his face away from her shoulders but made sure his eyes never left hers, as their foreheads inches apart.

it's not much, but he'll try. he will try everything he can to make her feel better.

Yui leaned closer and pecked his cheeks like she was assuring him that what he is doing and thinking is on the right track.

“you know, when you are anxious you become stiff and speechless.”

she really knows them all well. no, maybe it's more like how she spent most of her time with him too in both the timelines that she came to understand him in deeper terms.

“then should I take it as yes?” he said pointing at his kissed cheek.

Yui blushed before stammering how it should be her asking that when he obviously heard her confession back in that room.

days passed as Yui and Reiji spent time together to develop their relationship. it was more like Reiji not wanting to rush things with her as he still wanted to make sure she slowly recovers to her normal state.

Yui also figured that if she had a timeline with Reiji which she doesn't remember, then there are chances she might have one with others too.

but it's no use to ponder on it now because right now she has set her future with Reiji. they have decided that they'll face all the upcoming hardships together no matter what.

Reiji also gave her a necklace that connects her with him and vice versa for his own necklace.

this necklace will alert the person if the other is in danger, both physically and mentally.

still vividly remembering what he heard that day and also the events with Shu, Reiji researched day and night on it and after a week, successfully crafted this couple necklace.

now it was the day. their wedding day.

Yui was still unsure because they still have to face the Tsukinamis but Reiji replied that the marriage will only make things easier and those two can't try to lay a hand on someone's wife if they have morals.

the whole Sakamaki household was shocked because it's not been that long for them since Yui arrived. but to Reiyui, it's already been two timelines.

thankfully, the preparations went well and of course it was a small wedding after Yui insisted a lot.

Yui walked down the altar holding Shu's elbow, remembering how he agreed to be her Chaperone by himself. at first she got anxious thinking Shu remembered everything, but that wasn't the case. the only answer they got whenever they asked Shu with a doubt, he'll say:

“it's my duty as the older brother” like he was declaring himself not only Reiji's but Yui's brother too, after all the bride is escorted down the aisle by her father but that isn't the case with Yui as Seiji cannot be reached.

more than that, she still doesn't know how to face him when he finds out she is marrying a vampire.

oh they have a long way to go, but that shouldn't matter. because right now the priority is to spend the time with each other as much as possible and enjoy the moment.

you never know the future.

Yui smiled as she completed her vows with Reiji and kissed him.

it is going to be a long journey.

Yui… you can finally stop crying now, because this man, Reiji, will never let you shed a tear and always keep you smiling.

she said to herself as she walked hand in hand with him towards their carriage to set off for their home.

the end.

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #yui komori #komori yui #diabolik lovers fandom #shu sakamaki #reiji sakamaki #diabolik lovers yui #shu x yui #yui x shu #shuyui #reiyui #yui x reiji #sakamaki reiji #reiji x yui #unrequited reiyui #diabolik lovers fanfic

[livingdeadblondequeen]

Shoot To Kill

Daryl Dixon/RickSister!Reader

Era: Season 8; During Wraith

Warning: Violence, Negan bashing

Summary: Another Grimes takes matters into her own hands during the final battle.

“Save him.”

Despite the number of people in the field who had been watching the fight between the two leaders, there was nothing but silence, the only sounds that could be heard at that moment were the heavy breathing of Rick, and the footsteps of the new doctor as he moved towards the fallen Negan. Everyone was in shock, not only because it was over but by Rick’s demand. 

“No! No, he can’t! No, he killed Glen!” Maggie shouted, her cries echoing across the field as Michonne reached to stop her from advancing. “We have to end it! We have to make it right!”

No one else moved, those on their side watching silently while the defeated Saviors stood with their hands up, everyone listening to the Widow as she screamed. At least not until the sound of a gunshot rang out.

Rick spun around at the sound of the shot going off, thinking that perhaps Negan had had a hidden weapon on him, only to be shocked at what he saw. Standing a few feet away from the leather-clad Savior leader stood Rick’s own sister, her gun aimed at Negan. He knew immediately that she had been the one to fire, which she confirmed by firing off another round. 

Like the first bullet, it found its mark in Negan’s skull, his body spasming at the impact. Rick could see her hand tensing to shoot again but his hand on her arm stopped her from firing. “Y/N, stop. It’s over, he’s dead.”

She pulled her gaze away from the body in front of her, her eyes locking on his. “Good.”

Rick was about to say more when Y/N wrenched her arm from his grip and walked away toward Maggie and Daryl. Michonne looked at his sister in disbelief as she passed and then looked at him for direction. He just shook his head. He and Y/N would have words about what she did but now was not the time. 

*******

Hours later, Y/N found herself walking into the now-empty cell that Morgan had built. She was exhausted. She hadn’t slept well the night before, thoughts about the upcoming battle not allowing her to. Then once it was over, there were other things to do, like burying the fallen.  

Yet as tired as she was, Y/N would not go to bed. Not until Daryl got back from doing whatever he decided to do with Dwight. She just didn’t want to sleep in their bed without his arms around her, that had happened enough lately. 

As if her thoughts of him somehow made him appear, Y/N heard the familiar cadence of his footfalls on the stairs. Moments later, Daryl’s large form filled the doorway. “Tara said she saw ya come this way. What’re ya doing down here?”

“Trying it on for size?” Y/N replied, her voice rising at the end as she wasn’t sure. 

Daryl only huffed at her answer as he made his way in and sat down next to her. He took her hand in his, kissing the top of it before lacing his fingers with hers. “Rick ain’t gonna lock ya up.”

Y/N didn’t quite have the same faith in those words as Daryl seemed to. “Maggie said I would be welcome at Hilltop if I needed to. If it comes to me leaving…”

“Us,” Daryl corrected her. 

Squeezing his hand, Y/N went on. “I don’t know what my brother might do, but whatever it is, it is. I don’t regret killing Negan, not after he killed Abe, and Glen...”

With her free hand, Y/N reached up and brushed away Daryl’s shaggy bangs so she could see his blue eyes. Her fingers left his hair and trailed down his cheek, gently cupping his jaw. “And you. I couldn’t let him live after what he did to you.”

The archer leaned into her touch, his eyes meeting hers as she asked, “What about Dwight?’

Daryl seemed to hesitate a moment before answering. “Gone. Told’m not to come back unless he got a death wish. Told him to go look for her.” 

Y/N nodded. She honestly hadn’t known what he might do to the former Savior when they left. She understood either decision he would have made. Dwight had put him through hell, but he’d only been a puppet, doing Negan’s bidding to protect someone he cared about. It didn’t make what Dwight did any better, but she and Daryl couldn’t say that they wouldn’t have done something similar to protect the other one. 

A comfortable silence fell over the two of them as Y/N leaned her head on Daryl’s shoulder. She was about to say it was time to go home to bed when they heard the door to the street open and her brother’s boots could be heard on the stairs. Despite the fact that she trusted Rick with her life, Y/N couldn’t help but feel her body tense up. Time to face the music.

Rick’s gaze ran over her form then Daryl’s, taking in the scene before his eyes flicked back to her. She met his stare head-on, years of practice of him trying to boss her around using the big brother card. “Daryl, why don’t you head on home? I need to have a moment alone with my sister.”

“Nah, I’m good here.”

The archer’s response caused her brother to break his gaze from her to look at his friend. “You think I can’t be trusted with her? That I would hurt Y/N?”

“Nah I don’t,” Daryl replied as he stood, dropping Y/N’s hand as he did so that he was eye-to-eye with Rick. “But ya surprised me once today, ain’t risking her if ya do it again.” 

Jumping up between the two most important men in her life, Y/N placed her hands on each of their chests. “Daryl, it’s fine. I’ll meet you at home in a bit.”

Daryl continued to glare at Rick before finally looking down at Y/N. He gave her a short nod before brushing his lips against her temple. “Ya ain’t out in an hour, I’m comin’ back.”

Rick took a step back to allow Daryl to pass through the door and out of the cell, the two staring at each other again until Daryl disappeared up the stairs. Once the siblings were alone, Rick sighed heavily as he ran his hand through his hair. “Do you know what you have done?”

“I did what you were supposed to do,” Y/N replied, keeping her eyes straight and not backing down. “What you should have done.”

“But I didn’t and you should have followed my lead. I had my reasons not to kill Negan.” Rick stated.

“I know you did, I know what Carl said in his letter to you. About finding a way to live peacefully with Negan. He said something similar in mine.” Y/N told him. “But that wish was never going to happen. It couldn’t.”

“It could have, we could have made it work. Michonne and I had a plan.” 

“That neither of you thought to talk to one of us about?” Y/N practically shouted. “What was the plan, Rick? To have the new doctor fix him up then tell Negan he had to behave?”

“No! We were going to put him in here,” Rick said with a wave of his hand to indicate he meant the cell they were standing in. “With guards. Make an example out of him.” 

“So you wanted to waste not just manpower to guard him but also food and water?” Y/N asked, not believing what her brother was saying. “Did you not think how locking up Negan would be dangerous? I mean, when has letting our enemies live ever worked out for us? Andrew, the Governor, and Gareth, they all came back at us and we lost more people.”

“He would be locked up, people always watching him.” 

“Who's to say that his people wouldn’t try to break him out? From what we know, they were living the good life under Negan. They would want that back, instead of being equal with everyone else.” 

“It wouldn’t have been like that. They would see our way was better and fall in. Or we’d make them leave.” Rick insisted. 

“Negan killed Abe, he killed Glenn! They tortured Daryl!”

“You think I’ve forgotten that?!”

“I don’t know, have you?” Y/N asked.

“I know who he killed and what he’s done, but Carl…”

“Was a sixteen-year-old boy. Granted, he had been through and seen way more than a kid his age should have ever seen but he was still a kid. I would have done anything for him, if I could have taken that bite instead of him I would have in a heartbeat,” Y/N confessed, the grief she had been holding off since Carl’s death suddenly rose. It became too much, and she leaned against the wall, trying hard not to let the tears fall.

Looking over she saw her brother’s eyes soften as he looked at her, taking in her words while she continued. “And yes, what I did wasn’t what he wanted, but it is what I did. What I did, Rick. Not you. I hope that alleviates any guilt you might feel at not carrying out your son’s wish.”

Rick looked at his sister and felt the anger he had been feeling at her dissipate at her declaration. He knew she had only done what they had all wanted to do, what he had sworn to Negan’s face that he would do that night of the lineup, and he couldn’t fault her for that. “What are you doing down here, anyway? Of all the places I’d thought to find you, the cell isn’t one of them.” 

Y/N shrugged. “Thought after what I did, it might be my new home.”

Rick’s brows shot up in surprise. “You thought I would lock you up.”

“No, not really. I don’t know. While I knew you wouldn’t be happy about my killing Negan, I thought you might be more upset that I did it in front of everyone. Go against your wishes as a leader.” Y/N explained. “Maybe it would be a good thing if I leave Alexandria for a little while. Go to Hilltop and help Maggie. She will be showing soon I’m sure and will want some extra hands. Daryl and I…”

Shaking his head, Rick interrupted her. “Daryl’s going to be needed somewhere else. I need him to take over at the Sanctuary, make repairs and get it up again.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“The people there are going to need someone in charge and I need it to be someone strong and who I trust.” 

“You can’t send him back to that hell, he suffered enough, Y/N begged. She wanted to tell Rick about the nightmares that Daryl had when he slept, or how the fact that he hated their room in complete darkness but she knew he would not want that. “He’ll go if you ask him but don’t ask that of him. Please.”

Rick sighed loudly and ran his hand over his face, “Y/N...”

“Send Carol, send Rosita, let the place burn for all I care,” She argued. “So many there were miserable, without the Saviors taking stuff from the other communities it couldn’t sustain itself.”

“Okay, okay. I see what you are saying.” Rick conceded. “I’ll talk to Maggie and Ezekiel, and get their thoughts on it.”   

“But no asking Daryl?”

“No. No, we’ll find someone else.” 

Unable to help herself, Y/N grabbed her brother in a hug, squeezing tightly. He hugged her back, and the two stayed like that for a few minutes before breaking apart, Rick nodding towards the exit. “Come on, I’m sure Daryl is wearing a hole-in-the-floor pacing while he waits for you.”

“Funny that you think he actually went all the way home to wait for me.” 

Rick was about to ask her what she meant as they reached the street when the small red light from the end of a cigarette out of the corner of his eye. Standing a couple of doors down, far enough to give them privacy but close enough to come when called, stood Daryl. She knew the archer would be waiting for her. His sister smirked up at him before reaching up to kiss him on the cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning, big brother.”

Rick said his goodbye before she strolled off to the man waiting for her. Daryl nodded at him in acknowledgment before he focused on the woman in front of him as she took his outstretched hand. Rick watched his sister and the man he thought of as his brother walk away together before he turned toward his own home. Tomorrow was the first day of something new. 

*Note: I have an entire headcanon for Ricksister!Reader & Daryl and have thought of doing other one-shots with them. Let me know if you’d be interested in reading them. And if you have any requests for them, you would like to see, let me know.

Please share by reblogging

Thanks to @minervadashwood, @littlegodzilla, @green-eyedladywrites, @bringinsexybackk69 

#Daryl Dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #twd drabbles #twd #Daryl x Reader #Daryl Dixon

[genericpuff]

Honestly it’s getting tiring seeing the sobbing chronically of the cast ; Hera , Demeter, Persephone and probably more . Like it’s giving big baby cry cry energy instead of idk something proactive. Not sure if It’s just me getting that from the latest chapters???

I have two schools of thought on this.

On the one hand, I can fully understand wanting to show the vulnerability of these characters, to not send a message that emotions are bad and that people should just "toughen up". This is trying to be a "feminist" piece of work after all, and much of feminism preaches vulnerability and empathy and allowing oneself to get back in touch with their own emotions, rather than shutting themselves away from them which is often perpetuated by the societal expectations and norms of toxic masculinity.

Persephone crying as she confronts Apollo - the man who she now understands assaulted her - is understandable and real. A reasonable reaction to an emotional situation that many people can empathize with.

Hera crying as she reveals the true extent of the damage Kronos caused her is understandable and real. He's quite literally been stalking her in the recesses of her mind and it's reaching a breaking point.

But on the other hand, there's a difference between wanting to show a character showing their emotions and then learning to overcome the challenges they've presented with - whether they do it independently or learn to trust in others to help them - thus growing in the process and coming out stronger on the other side vs. using a character purely for torture porn. As much as we preach concepts like "normalize crying" in a very simplified way for the sake of being easily understood, such simplifications often result in a lack of nuance.

An entirely other subject to use as a comparison point to explain this nuance - it's like the difference between having a character who's become so jaded and disconnected from the concept of empathy that even murder becomes just a menial task to them vs. murderhobos. Murderhobos are not interesting or complex or empathetic or relatable, they're just written (and in the case of where the term comes from - Dungeons & Dragons - played) for the sole purpose of having an edgy uncaring character who thinks they're free from consequences while they fuck up the lives of everyone around them in a completely irredeemable way (and is often protected from such consequences due to plot armor, unless it's in D&D, in which case you'll likely be politely asked to either change your character for the sake of the campaign or leave.)

There's nothing to gain or learn from murderhobos. They only exist for the satisfaction of an ego complex - "I don't care what you want or how it affects the people around me, I want to kill people without consequences because that's as creative as my imagination can get in my own personal fantasy."

There's nothing to gain or grow from anymore when we get another scene of Hera bleeding mascara as she cries over her situation with Kronos while still refusing to actually tell anyone what's going on with Kronos, despite the fact that we had an entire fucking therapy speak episode where she realized she needed help. So it feels like it's purely there just to play on the trope of "sad woman is saaaad, won't anyone help herrrr?" which is really starting to learn into learned helplessness.

This is especially apparent with Persephone, who, upon causing a massive problem for everyone, has taken it upon herself to shut herself away while her loved ones deal with the problem. If she needs the time to cry and process what's going on, that's fine. But while that's happening, we know mortals are dying and that she's turning the situation into a learned helplessness pity party of "I'm a monsterrr and no one likes meeee :((((" while having zero self-awareness that yeah, she did cause this problem, and her locking herself away in her literal mansion isn't exactly going to help the situation.

I've already used Tamberlane as an example of approaching the subject of learned helplessness and how it's fundamentally different from simply being vulnerable and having emotions, but I'm gonna share it again here because it's really relevant and Persephone needs someone to give her this same wake-up call.

Considering Demeter was the one to approach her at the end of the last episode, I'm hoping she'll be the one to broach the topic with her, but judging by how Rachel's treated it so far with every character reassuring her with empty platitudes that accomplish nothing but comforting Persephone over something she caused like "Noooo you're not a monster, you're the best queen ever and you're trying her best!!" (and the fact that Rachel has spent so much time turning Demeter into public enemy #1 that her readers still can't fucking give her any shred of empathy even after finding out she lost a child, fucking yikes) I'm not holding my breath that this week's episode is gonna actually have that same level of emotional maturity or growth. This is the second time in the entire comic we've seen Persephone suffer the consequences of her actions out of many that have been harmful, some accidental, others very intentional (which Rachel has even supported her doing in a very unironic sense, it's safe to say Rachel really truly does believe that Persephone is entitled to abuse people). And judging by how things went the first time, it's hard to have the benefit of the doubt and assume Persephone is gonna actually take accountability and learn and grow from this. She didn't the last time and her character has only devolved since.

Sure, feeling like you've fucked up to such a monumental degree that you'll never be able to show your face in public again is something that's real and relatable and worth crying over... but crying is an emotional response, not the actual solution. It is a PART of expressing and processing emotions, but ultimately those emotions are not actions, just REactions. Crying is okay, crying is a normal response to grief and sadness, but if you don't actually take steps forward and continue to wallow in the sadness, blame everyone else around you for it, and simultaneously rely on everyone else to carry the burden of your own actions for you, then that's when it exits the realm of healthy emotional processing and broaches the unhealthy realm of learned helplessness and emotional manipulation.

If anything, her entire monologue in the last FP episode was more about Rachel being upset over criticism of her comic and her self-insert that, like Persephone's deal with Erebus and the "plague" that followed, she earned over not addressing the issues in her work sooner and instead choosing to double down - both through Persephone's abusive behavior within the narrative and Rachel's passive aggressive meta-commentary on that abuse being okay because "she's earned the right to lash out".

The only people in this entire comic who have "earned the right to lash out" are the women that Rachel has villainized along the way in the pursuit of giving her self-insert everything without effort or sacrifice. And even then those people would still have to rightfully answer for their wrongs and grow from them - because there is no right to abuse, there is no right to harming others, especially not if the "others" you're harming are people who were victims in their own right that you turned into imaginary enemies so you could have someone to punch down at in the absence of a spine to stand up for yourself against the real perpetrators. And in doing so, Persephone herself has become a perpetrator, who sheds crocodile tears that no one is buying because the writing is on the fucking wall.

#lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical #ask me anything #ama #anon ask me anything #anon ama

[animehideout]

A Deal ( Ryomen Sukuna X Reader )

Part 6

Check out part 5 here.

a/n: Hi loves, sorry for the late update, I'm struggling with finding motivation since I'm active on both Tumblr and Wattpad.

‼️Since you voted for 3 different endings and I promised to write all of them, I'll start writing 3 different parts ( for exp 3 different versions of part 7 ) till we reach the end, since the events would obviously differ.

Warnings: NSFW MDNI ⚠️

Standing in front of Jujutsu High, nostalgia flooded your mind with cherished memories ; laughter, giggles, echoes of principal Yaga's scolding. The scents and images of your past enveloped you, painting a bittersweet picture. As you began to reminisce, a soft smile adorned your somewhat gloomy face.

Sukuna's voice broke the reverie, jolting you back to the present.

"One hour... that's it," he declared, grounding you in the reality of the moment.

Realizing that despite the risks of being a Jujutsu sorcerer, life then felt like heaven compared to the current disaster, a true hellfire. You nodded, all what you wanted was to hug them once more. An hour seemed more than sufficient, considering you had endured weeks of separation.

"I'll be waiting right here.. if you don't come back in one hour, I'll get in there and kill everyone before your eyes" he threatened.

You gulped, already know that he won't hesitate and would do that for real. You can't risk putting them in danger, you've been bearing all the pain for so long for them to keep them safe, so now you can't ruin it by simply being one second late...one hour is one hour.

"Understood" you muttered,

Sukuna's hold on your waist loosened, granting a temporarily liberation. It felt like a bird that had been caged for years, now experiencing the freedom to spread its wings and fly once again.

You stepped inside as the clock started ticking, countdown began. You started running, to waste no second.

Sukuna's Pov Why do I feel empty? It's just one hour; she'll return, she'll come back to me! Yet, everything seems to turn gloomy and dark without her by my side. I've lived in darkness across all timelines, for long 1000 years. But she changed it; she ignited herself, unintentionally lighting up my world. The moment she offered herself to me as an exchange for Gojo and Megumi's life, what a woman! Maybe it was the way her soul was pure, maybe it was her courage, maybe it was just for my own filthy pleasure, desires and sins. But she succeeded in making me break from the ordinary, and now all what I can think about..is her. If she was anyone else, I would have killed them at the spot, wouldn't even waste a second to negotiate, or spare them with my mercy. But Y/N,she got me wrapped around her finger, to the point that despite boiling with jealousy, and this unexpected ache that I've felt in my chest, aware of what could happen between her and Satoru in these 60 minutes, I've let her go to him, because she wanted to. Because I can't say no to her pleading eyes that drove me crazy. But one thing I won't allow, I won't allow Gojo to steal her away from me. No one can have her. Either mine, or death. End of Pov.

Panting trying to catch your breath, stomping inside, with no further warning.

"Satoru, I'm home" you said with a smile,

“Y–y/n?" they said in union.

taglist 🫶🏻:

@bellagum @darlax @saiyara05 @bontensbabygirl @aquatufana @kiki17483 @certainduckanchor @openup-yourmind @certainduckpalaceland

[biorusted]

So, trying to wrap my head around it all.

The lesson learnt here was ‘Do the risk, but tell the group first.’ Which is interesting because I did not understand that as the source of the issue.

I thought the source was letting hubris take flight and going after a larger power that one felt like they ‘deserved.’

Ashton felt he deserved the fire shard because of his family history with the hishari and the tragedy that marred him for the rest of his life. BH seemed to have a problem with this hubris and ignoring the (obvious to some) signs that the power didn’t ‘belong’ to him.

Which directly relates to Imogen and Laudna’s hubris. Imogen believes it’s her destiny/power etc to pursue the red moon and control that magic, while Laudna has leaned into her patron for the power she can provide. These powers can destroy them but they feel like they can and will control them. This relates because it is pm Ashton’s whole deal.

Power that relates to them: power that they can control and is thus theirs.

Ashton even mentions that the Witches’ idea that Fearne deserves the fire shard because of her natural power and the power of her biological parents is the same flawed line of thinking as him, but they seemingly ignore that, implying that hubris/power grabbing is not the ladies' main concern.

So the signs that I thought were leading to ‘do not think that this strange power is for you just because you think you can control it’ became ‘control the power, but tell the group that you’re going to do it first.’

I believe Ashton sees the disparity, but Imogen and Laudna do not (not sure about the rest of the party.) And that’s why Ashton said ‘it could have been any one of us’ because the lesson they took from this was still to take the risks.

Which is interesting because it implies if Ashton told the group what he wanted, they would have been semi okay with it, even if it led to Ashton dying or almost dying.

I also think it’s interesting because hubris always goes well in a dangerous situation (sarcasm.) Imogen is very quickly sliding down a slippery slope of pradathos’ powers and relying more on sneaking into her friend’s minds to control the situations around them (her words were more specifically ‘If I knew what Ashton was planning I could have stopped it’) which still does not insinuate communication and trust in the group, just an invasion of privacy and control.

Laudna’s lines of herself and Delilah are becoming more blurred, and while Laudna is scared, she also has leaned into this power as well, even comming up with plans if it becomes too much (for Imogen to kill her)

But both of these are ‘okay’ with the group because they have told the group.

Note that they have not *discussed* it with the group, only told them. Whether or not the group feels okay with these certain growths in power and hubris we do not know. I think Orym has certain feelings about it, and as mentioned I think Ashton does too now that they’ve been humbled significantly, but whether either of them speak up about it… Well Ashton has illuded to it and Orym’s goal is to keep the group together long enough to subdue the threat/ complete their missions.

So overall, the lesson that the majority of BH understood was ‘tell the group before doing the risky thing.’ Which while I was surprised and a bit disappointed, I also recognize that it is extremely in line for this group. I think will have some consequences for not being ‘don’t let hubris tell you that the power was made for you.’ and I think their communication needs to improve over all (not just Telling the group before something goes awry, but letting it be a discussion) but at least they understand to talk to one another before something explodes (like with FCG going murderbot this last ep)

TLDR: The lesson that BH took away from their therapy session was ‘do the risk, but tell the group’ which will have major consequences.

#critical role #bells hells #critical role spoilers #ashton greymoore #imogen temult #laudna #fearne calloway #orym of the air ashari #rusted words

[mdhwrites]

Do you think the show rewards Luz’s Selfishness too much?

So I normally frame Luz's decision to self martyr herself and stay in her own world as not wanting to bother with the effort to fix her mistake. Let's shift that a bit so we can talk about why the show couldn't have Luz tell ANYONE this deeply selfish choice. A choice that by all means, Camila seems to think is just a bad choice for Luz and for no one else.

But... Luz chooses that her pain and angst is so bad that she doesn't want to help Amity reunite with her siblings. Or to make sure they can live in a world where they're safe. Gus' dad, Willow's parents, Darius, etc. All of them can rot as far as Luz is concerned. She even explicitly states this in For the Future. "Once Eda and King are safe, I'm going home."

No one else matters. LITERALLY no one else matters to her but the people she has chosen to care about and there aren't many of those. This is framed even worse by the fact that by the end of this episode, Camila will effectively say that Luz has NEVER done anything wrong. That trying to critique her at all, to try and give her life skills and friends with the camp after she put people's lives potentially in danger (snakes and fireworks are not meant for school for a reason), was wrong. That Luz just needs to be 'understood'. Part of understanding Luz, especially in S3, means that unless someone attacks her about it, like the dream sequence, WHICH ISN'T HER OWN MIND BUT A FABRICATION AND LIE, she isn't going to think about others. Just her adopted family and herself. And even then, maybe not even her adopted family since they sure as shit didn't matter in Thanks to Them.

BUT. we are supposed to sympathize with her and believe she did nothing wrong, just like Camila. Do not question her motivations, or her efforts, just believe her words.

This is emblematic of the show as well. The first two episodes talk a big game about fantasy vs reality and like Luz's selfish motivations, warped way of looking at things and her learning to be a human being, not a walking, wanna be protagonist will be interrogated. But... Not really. She repeatedly does things that are mirrored in her favorite series. Her final battle line will be a reference to that series and her delusions with that series. People might get briefly upset about her actions but most of the time she either doesn't have to do anything, like Reaching Out or Adventure in the Elements (where she gets a glyph BEFORE making up the fuck up she did) or show how special she is like in Lost in Language and Covention. I can only really think of like one episode after the first two where Luz fucks up and genuinely has to take the brunt of punishment for it, Winging it Like Witches, and even in that one, she is saved before anything bad happens to her before winning with the same trick that hurt her friends, just... Now it's okay because they're all on the same page about it I guess. Couldn't have had Willow come up with something herself because Luz actually was willing to listen to Willow and not force something onto her. That'd be too much work.

It's part of why the more you interrogate Luz's intentions and motivations, it gets BAD. So much of what she does could be easily grafted onto a kid trying to play hero or not learning anything from past mistakes. Don't ever forget that Teenage Abomination says "Listen to your mentor about their specialty," then The Intruder says "Don't take shortcuts to magic" before then in Adventure in the Elements, Luz takes a shortcut for magic while also not listening to Eda and almost gets people killed for it. GREAT JOB LUZ! Much development, such depth.

And yes, lots of shows will have characters yoyo and the like but these are within HALF A SEASON of each other. It usually takes a little longer for most animated shows to straight up start repeating lessons. Hell, yes, it is theoretically a problem for Amphibia too with stuff like Bessie and the hibernation episode both featuring Anne's impatience but also S1 is genuinely about how Anne is fighting between the lessons she's learning and her growing empathy versus how she used to be with her selfishness and laziness. Also, both episodes might be about her impatience but they genuinely tackle it in different ways, with one being about disregarding the rules because of overconfidence and the other one is out of boredom. For TOH... It's just that Luz wants the magic she thinks she should have, as easily and as fun as she thinks it should be instead of weird and actually taking work, and fucks it up because of that same motivation.

That same motivation that doesn't treat reality like reality. According to the show though, that's just the best way to be. Follow your own version, fuck everything else. That's what Luz gets to do in the end after all and she's the one literally blessed by God to be correct.

So yeah, I think her selfishness might be a touch rewarded.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

#the owl house criticism #toh critical #toh #the owl house #luz noceda

[vioartemis]

I'll die with you (part 7)

(Tara Carpenter x fem! reader)

Summary: You finally put an end to this nightmare, and start a new life in New York, with a new 'hobby'. Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 Warnings: Ghostface stuff, deaths, blood, etc (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

You got pushed forward harshly, stumbling into Sidney's arms. Damian was laying on the floor, unconscious, next to the old couch.

How did he even get caught?

You tried to go to him to see if he was okay, but were interrupted by Ghostface.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you"

You looked up to him, watching in horror as he pointed Sidney's gun at Tara's head, and took a step back.

"Go fuck yourselves, assholes! Don't you know the fans never win?" Mindy spat

"First, we're not 'fans'" the Ghostface near you said "And second, you might want to choose your words more wisely, Mindy."

The other Ghostface, the one holing Tara, took off his mask. Her mask.

Blond hair fell on her shoulders, free from the restraining mask.

"Surprise, my love" she said, smirking at Mindy

"Lexi...? I thought you said she got killed!" the brunette said to Tara

"That's what I thought...!" your girlfriend defended herself

"Wait, if Lexi is Ghostface... who's the other one?" her sister asked

The other killer took off his mask, to reveal...

"Who the fuck is that?" Sam asked

No one answered, sharing confused looks, until you finally spoke.

"Ayla... she's a classmate of mine... we have a few classes in common"

"What did you do to make her want to kill you?"

"Nothing! We barely ever talked." you turned to face the killer "Why are you doing this...?"

"Oh, now you're interested in me?" she huffs "You really are a bunch of hypocrites"

You all looked at her, pure confusion on your faces.

"We've been in the same class for 4 years. And not once you paid attention to me. I bet you didn't even notice I was missing last year. But I'm getting carried away, that's not the reason I'm doing this."

"What's your motive then? Why did you even bring me here?" Sid asked "Let me guess, the movies made you do it?"

"These stupid movies? I couldn't care less about the movies! I'm taking my revenge on you all. For what you did to me."

"'For what we did to you'? We don't even know who you are!"

"That's the problem!" Ayla replied, anger rising in her voice

"What do you mean?"

"Last year, my mom's hometown lived a nightmare. We lived a nightmare. We got trapped in the mall, and some guys started to kill everyone. The Woodwork massacre? Rings a bell? Of course not. Because at the same time, you were being attacked. And who cares about a little town when there's another massacre in Woodsboro? No one! No one cared about what happened! Journalists were supposed to come and cover the events. Your mom was supposed to come and cover the events. But because of you all, the medias rushed here and forgot us."

"'Because of us'? Do you think we wanted this?!"

You got cut off by Ayla pressing her knife against your throat.

"I don't care what you wanted. My story was forgotten because of you. And I'm going to kill you all for that."

"And how do you this you'll get away with it?"

"We have the perfect scapegoat here, thanks to you, and your suspicions." she said, pointing Damian

"What does this have to do with you...?" Mindy suddenly asked the blonde

"Me? I'm just here for the adrenaline. We weren't working together at first; we had the same target, some cops, and killed them together. Then we talked, and I agreed to help her."

"You're fucking crazy... Both of you." you said

"Yeah? Whose fault is that, hm? You're the ones to blame for it." Ayla replied, a crazy smirk on her face "You'll tell that to your mom, hm? That, and how you couldn't save yourself, like you couldn't save her either."

When you understood that she was the one who killed your mom, you saw red.

You grabbed the girl's wrist with force, almost breaking the bone, and kicked her in the stomach, sending her a few meters away, her knife falling on the floor.

Lexi was too shocked by your move, and didn't see Sam coming and got punched hard, making her let go of Tara. But the blonde was quick to react, and tried to shoot Sam, who dodged. The bullet hit Mindy, who fell to the ground.

The blonde looked at Sam and ran after her. Tara tried to follow them, but Sidney intervened.

"Help your friend, I'll take care of your sister"

Tara hesitated a second, before nodding and looking at you.

"It's okay baby, I'll handle her and protect Damian. Take Mindy outside and try to bandage her up."

"But-"

"Please. I don't want you to get hurt..."

She was about to protest again, but finally gave in and went to Mindy. At the same moment, Ayla got up, rage visible on her face, and rushed to you, trying to punch you.

You dodged, and grabbed the nearest object - an old little table - and slammed it on her head.

"Go, quick!" you said to Tara, while the killer was on the floor, trying to get up

You gave a last look to Tara when Mindy and her walked past the door, before concentrating again.

A shiny object caught your attention, partially hidden under a cupboard. The knife she dropped earlier. Taking advantage of her confusion, you rushed to it.

The handle fit perfectly in your hand, as if it had been made for you. The knife wasn't too heavy nor too light, just the perfect weight to be used in the most efficient way.

You turned to face the girl, knife in hand.

"What are you going to do with that? Kill me?" she smirked "You wouldn't dare"

You took a step closer and grabbed her hair, forcing her to look at you.

"Wanna bet?" you asked before stabbing her in the stomach with force

The cry she let out as the blade sank in her flesh was so pathetic, so miserable, it almost made you smile.

"Did I hurt you?" you asked with innocent eyes

"Fuck you."

"Oh, no no no, that's not what we say"

You twisted the knife, causing blood to splatter on you and on the floor, exactly like when she attacked you. Except this time you were the one holding the knife.

"I said, 'did I hurt you?'. What do we say?"

She looked at you, teeth clenched, determined not to give you what you wanted. You rolled your eyes and twisted the knife again.

"What do we say?"

"Yes, you're hurting me! F-fuck..."

She was losing a lot of blood. You would have to be quick.

"See, it wasn't that hard."

You pulled the knife out of her stomach. More blood gushed out of the wound.

Your grip on her hair didn't loosen; it grew even stronger, as you pulled her towards the nearest wall and slammed her head against it.

"How does it feel, huh? Having your head slammed against a wall?" you sank the blade in her side "Sounds familiar?"

You pulled out the knife and stabbed her in the leg and in the arm. Her cries and whimpers were music to your ears. As you pulled her head back, ready to slam it against the wall again, you heard Tara's voice.

"Y/n?"

You turned around, covered in Ayla's blood.

"What are you doing...?"

"I just-"

"Yeah, Y/n, explain to her how you're trying to kill me and enjoying it" Ayla groaned, trying to free herself from your grip

"Shut your fucking mouth." you growled

"I know you're not like that, baby... You will regret it later..."

You slowly pull the blade out of the girl, a fistful of her hair still in hand, holding her in front of you.

"... Maybe I will... But..." you looked at your girlfriend, pain visible in your eyes "She killed my mom, so..."

You sank the blade in the girl's throat, not letting Tara react to what you just said.

"Who's dying alone now, huh?" you whispered with a slight smirk, pulling the knife out

Blood splattered on your face and clothes as your grip on her hair loosened, letting her fall to the ground. You looked at her, oh so pathetic now, helpless.

God it felt good to get your revenge done.

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

A year after these events, your little friend group had moved to New York, in hope to have a better life there. And it was working. Mindy, Damian, Tara and you started college like normal people. Not victims, not survivors, just new students.

It was comforting to know that all the Ghostface stuff was behind you.

This city gave you plenty of date ideas, and without the fear of getting attacked at every corner, Tara and you spent most of your time outside, visiting and having romantic little moments together.

But since that very night at Woodsboro, something in you had snapped. This thing had followed you here, leading you to start a new 'hobby'.

You couldn't tell anyone, they wouldn't understand. They would call you crazy, say you had lost your mind.

So, you kept it all a secret, hidden in a wooden box under your bed.

The first three months, everything when well. You were doing a great job keeping your activities a secret. Until that night.

As always, you had packed your bag and waited until Tara fell asleep to sneak out by your bedroom's window. You did what you had to do, and two hours later, you were back in your room.

Little did you know that Tara was awake, waiting for you. She was sitting on the bed, arms crossed, raising an eyebrow as she saw you climbing back in.

You didn't have any other choice and told her everything. And let's say that her reaction surprised you; she offered to join you in your nightlife.

You couldn't hide your shock, your jaw was on the floor. You had think about this moment so many times, and yet, she still managed to say something you hadn't think of. Evert time, she ended up leaving you, in your scenarios.

From this night on, you had a partner in crime. And you had to admit it; she was really good at that.

Two months after Tara joined you, on a 'break night' as you called it, you were cuddling on your bed, when Sam called your names. Hearing the tone of her voice, you quickly made your way to the living room.

"What's wrong?" Tara asked

"Remember the news saying that someone wearing a Ghostface costume had been spotted at night across the city?"

"Yeah, we all agreed it was some freak joking around. Why?"

Sam just pointed the tv, and you both looked at the screen. Someone had just been murdered, and according to the security cameras, the killer was wearing a Ghostface costume.

You turned to Tara, eyes filled with worry. You could say you were both thinking about the same thing, by the way she looked at you.

The bow under your bed hadn't been opened in a week, and none of you acted alone.

That could only mean one thing.

You were not the only Ghostfaces in New York.

~ maybe the end? ~

[Previous part]

׺°”˜`”°º×•°¯`•• ♡ ••´¯°•×º°”˜`”°º×

a/n: before anyone sues me for Ghostface's identity, the lack of 'screen time' she got is meant to mirror the confusion of the group, and the lack of attention she got after what happened to her (kind of foreshadowing (?))

@karsonromanoff @cheesybacon1 @liaaa-1

#scream #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x fem reader