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nastybuckybarnes · 6 months

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Welcome Home

Pairing: Simon Riley X Reader

Summary: Nothing shatters the tension of a fight quite like needing your boyfriend to rush home to save you from people who would do you harm.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Fighting, Fluff, Kind of mean!Simon but not too bad, very minor violence, home invasion, I think that's it...?

Word Count: 1.5K

A/n: we're gonna dip a toe in the COD water and see what happens. I love ghost and Konig so we'll see what else I do there. For any and all COD stuff, I use Canadian Military as a basis for the readers background.

~*~

"I've had enough of this. I'm not gonna argue with you about somethin' so stupid," he hisses, glaring at you with hard, cold eyes.

"It's not stupid, Simon, you just don't want to ever entertain the idea of talking about things that might make you slightly uncomfortable!"

"Oh fuckin hell." He drags a hand down his face and shakes his head.

"Everythin's always gotta end with you being right, doesn't it?"

You frown at his absolute lack of any sort of understanding or empathy.

"This isn't about me being right, this is about you at the very least hearing me out!" You try.

"You knew what you were getting in to the moment you met me, m'not sure what you're expecting of me now. S'not like I can go and change the way things are, now can I?"

You narrow your eyes at him and his blatant ignorance.

"I understand full well, Lieutenant. I've been there, which is something you seem to conveniently forget."

He lets out a humourless chuckle and shakes his head, "don't go put yourself in the same category as me now, lovey. You know you weren't exactly at my level when you served."

His words are a slap in the face.

Sure, you were never quite JTF2 or SAS level, but that doesn't mean your time in the military is any less valid than his.

Seven years of your life you devoted to serving your country, the medical help for teams like his, and all he can do is turn his nose down at it as if it means nothing to him.

"You know what? Fuck you, Simon. I never even insinuated that we were at the same level and for you to try and..." you stop, pinching the bridge of your nose as anger fills you.

"What? Got nothin' to say now? That's a shock."

It takes all your strength not to lash out at him and even more to stop your bottom lip from quivering at just how mean he's being.

Sure, he's always been a little rough around the edges, a little harsh and brazen, but never has he been so downright mean to you.

"Get out."

"What?" This seems to genuinely catch him off guard, his arrogance faltering for a moment.

"Get out. Leave."

Simon Riley isn't a man who gets scared. He's been chewed up and spat out of hell before. Nothing on Earth can get the jump on him and nothing can scare him.

At least, that's what he thought.

His palms tingle and he needs to grind his teeth together a few times to collect himself before speaking.

"So that's it then?" He asks, his deep voice barking the question like he would an order.

You two have had your fair share of fights in the time that you've been dating, even more since you moved in together, but none where he's thought you might end things.

"I'm not gonna stand here and take a verbal beating from you, Si. Get out and come back when you've had a chance to fucking cool off."

He stares at you for a long moment, testing your resolve, waiting to see if you really mean it.

When you hold his glare, not backing down, he grabs his coat, mask, and keys and storms out of the house without another word.

You stand there in the kitchen for a long moment, the silence ringing heavily in your ears before you storm up the stairs to take a shower and, hopefully, argue out all your hostility in private.

The warm water runs over your tense shoulders for a few minutes and you try your hardest to relax, to let the anger seep out of you and run down the drain, but when you hear the front door open you're filled with rage once more.

You stand in the shower silently, waiting for the door to open and close again, signalling his departure, but instead you just hear boots on the kitchen floor.

Scoffing and shaking your head, you start to seethe.

As if he's wearing his shoes in the house on top of everything else.

You yank the shower curtain aside and step out onto the mat, not bothering to turn the shower off.

A crash from the kitchen makes you freeze.

Simon is never this loud.

Like a deer on the highway, you stay still, silencing your breathing as you listen to the noises coming from the kitchen.

Instead of calling out to him and potentially causing more trouble, you take a silent step to the counter where your phone lies.

You grab it and hit his icon quickly, listening to it ring for a while before he sends you to his voicemail. A loud beep sounds tauntingly in your ear and you huff out an angry breath.

You hang up and call him back, grinding your teeth together when he sends you straight to voicemail again.

The noises in the kitchen continue, and your heart jumps into your throat.

Answer your phone, Simon.

You shoot the text off quickly then immediately call him again, your stomach settling when the call connects.

"Are you home?" You waste no time on pleasantries, and instead hear him sigh heavily.

"You told me to get the fuck out, didn't ya? Why would I be home."

Your breath hitches and you press your back to the bathroom door, turning the lock silently as panic fills you.

"Simon, someone's here."

The fear in your voice has his blood running cold, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tighter as your fight gets shoved from his mind.

"What do you mean 'someone's here'?" He asks, his voice lacking the anger it had only moments ago.

"I heard the door open and I can hear someone in the kitchen."

You hear his tires screeching on the pavement and his engine roaring as he speeds home.

"Where are you right now?" This isn't Simon talking now. You recognize the change.

This is Ghost.

"I'm in our bathroom. Door locked and shower on."

"Good. Keep that water running. As long as they think you don't know they're there, you should be okay until I get home."

"Okay." You feel a little bit safer knowing he's on his way home.

"Keep me on the line."

"Okay."

There's a few seconds of just breathing before you speak again.

"How far are you?"

"Two minutes away."

"Okay... After you deal with these guys we can go back to yelling at each other," you whisper, wrapping a towel around your body and leaning against the wall across from the door.

He chuckles softly and the sound makes a small smile tug at your lips.

As much as he pisses you off and even sometimes hurts your feelings, deep down you know you'll never love anyone the way you love him.

You don't realize you've been quiet until he calls your name softly.

"You still with me, dove?" His voice is soft and you hear him turn the car off.

"I'm here."

"Good. I'm home now, don't come out of the bathroom 'till I come get you, understood?"

"Understood."

Sometimes living with Simon reminds you of being on base, and there are times when you despise it.

And then there are the times when you don't mind it as much. This is one of those times.

You hear the muffled sound of what must be him putting his phone in his pocket, and you close your eyes as you hear the soft click of the door handle through the speaker.

His footsteps are silent, even through the phone, and you feel ridiculous for ever thinking you'd hear it if he came home.

You can hear him as he takes down one intruder, and then what must be a second one.

He says nothing to them, that you can hear. But a series of dull thuds echo through the house before silence remains.

A few minutes go by of nothing, but you don't dare speak or open the door.

Ghost gave you an order, and you have no intentions of disobeying.

There are a few more moments of silence before you hear a crisp knock on the door.

"Lovey? You can open up now."

Breathing out a sigh of relief, you open the bathroom door and are immediately engulfed in Simon's strong arms.

He walks you backwards into the bathroom and squeezes you to his chest, mask hiked up over his nose so he can breathe in the scent of you.

"You all right, love?" He asks softly, his voice gruff and ever so rough.

"M'okay, Si. Thank you for coming home."

"S'my fault anyway. I shoulda locked the door before leavin' in a huff the way I did."

You frown and shake your head, pulling away to look up at him.

"This is in no way your fault, Simon. I could've easily locked the door after you. I'm just happy you got home in time."

Though you're not sure what the intruders really wanted, you're glad you didn't have to find out alone.

"I'll always come home."

And with those four words, he puts to rest not only the intruder situation, but also your argument from earlier.

Because he will. He'll always come home to you, regardless of what he needs to do, he'll make sure he comes home to you.

#simon Riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon Riley x reader fluff #simon x reader #cod x reader #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod fanfic #cod mw2 x reader #soap #price #gaz #fluff #angst #simon Riley fluff

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flippedorbit · 2 years

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I don’t want to fucking be here anymore I’m sick of putting up with everything and bottling up every single feeling and opinion I have and experience all to keep everyone else happy

#At this rate by the time school starts up again in August I might just fucking drop out and disappear off the face of the earth #I’m so god damn sick of trying my hardest and it all being for nothing. My best has never been good enough for anyone and it fucking hurts #that so many people try to lie about that to make me feel better. How many people lie about caring. How many people lie about wanting me to #get better. How am i supposed to fucking get better if the situation gets worse and worse with each passing day. How am I supposed to feel #safe in a house where I’m not allowed to express myself through my appearance or my words. How am I supposed to feel safe in a country #where a gun has more rights than I do. How am i supposed to feel safe in a country that doesn’t see me as a person who deserves to live.#I haven’t felt safe since I was 5 years old. Just before my little sister was born. Just before I was treated like I was far less important #than my sister. Just before my best friend at the time decided she hated me for hanging out with someone she didn’t like. Just before that #friend switched schools. Just before we had to move states so that CPS wouldn’t take me and my sister away. Just before I pretty much lost #my right to privacy. I didn’t have my own room until I started high school. I’m not even allowed to make a grade below a B. If i so much as #have a 79 in a class my fucking phone gets taken from me and I’m not allowed to go hang out with my friends. I’m getting fed up with how I #am seen as a person. All I am is bragging rights for my mom. I don’t feel loved. I don’t feel seen. I haven’t felt like I had an actual #family since I was young. I want to feel something other than pain. I want to be anything but numb. I want to stop experiencing loss. I #want to be asked about the things I like and actually be able to provide an answer. I only get time to myself from 12am-3am. I don’t wake #up until its almost noon now. I had my god damn childhood taken from me and all these assholes want is to force me to be someone I don’t #want to be. They want me to go to college. I don’t want to go to college. They want me to get a learners permit so I can get a job but they #also still want me to do every damn chore in the house because clearly I’m not exhausted enough as I am already. I want to leave so badly #and at this point if that means I have to die then so be it. I’m so tired of everything I just want to rest.

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waltermis · 5 months

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Stay, Stay, Stay

Summary: You & Natasha share a comforting moment

Warnings: hurt/comfort

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader (romantic)

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NATASHA!! ❤️❤️

↠↠↠

Natasha sighed, cutting her peanut butter sandwich. She listened to Rocket, Nebula, and the rest of the remaining avengers argue from across the universe. It’s been five years since the snap. Five years since Thanos. Five years since the Avengers officially split up. Five years since she lost Yelena. Five years since everything… But no matter how much time passed, she couldn’t let this life go.

“Carol, are we seeing you here next month?”

“Not likely,”

“What? You gonna get another haircut?” Rocket teased.

“Listen, fur face. I’m covering a lot of territory. The things that are happening on Earth are happening everywhere. On thousands of planets.”

“Uh, all right. All right. That’s a good point. That’s a good point.”

“So, you might not see me for a long time.”

“All right. Uh well, this channel's always active. So, if anything goes sideways… anyone’s making trouble where they shouldn’t… comes through me.” Natasha stated, before Rocket, Okoye, Carol’s channels disappeared, leaving Rhodey. “Where are you?” she asked him.

“Mexico. The Federales found a room full of bodies. Looks like a bunch of cartel guys never even had a chance to get their guns off.”

“It’s probably a rival gang,” Natasha denied quickly.

“Except it isn’t. It’s definitely Barton… what he’s done here, what he’s been doing for the last few years. I mean, the scene that he left…I gotta tell you there’s a part of me that doesn’t even want to find him.”

“Will you find out where he’s going next?” she asked, taking a bit of her sandwich, tears filling her eyes, threatening to spill.

“Nat?”

“Please?” she asked, quietly. She looked so vulnerable, her eyes glassy and nose red from holding back tears.

“Okay,” he sighed, before leaving the channel.

Natasha sighed, trying her hardest not to cry. She missed him, Clint, he was her best friend. One of the first few people that truly trusted her. When she met Clint’s family, they welcomed her in with open arms. They were like her second family; finding out that they were blipped broke her heart. She couldn’t imagine what Clint was going through.

‘God, this is a fucking mess.’ She thought, wrapping her arms around herself. Taking a bite out of her sad excuse of a sandwich, Natasha’s senses picked up the sound of wheels rolling against the hardwood floor. Natasha furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, watching you hauling two big blue luggage, she’s never seen before, through the common room. “Moya lyubov’, where are you going?” You ignored her, continuing to grab the luggage’s outside. “Detka? Are you okay?!” Still nothing. Natasha began to panic; thoughts of you finally realizing that you deserved better clawed their way into her brain. “Dorogaya? Can we talk about this? Please!”

“Babe?” you asked, coming back. “What’re you doing in here? I thought you were gonna use Meeting room A today… W-why’re you crying?” you asked, wrapping her up in your arms. She didn’t even notice the tears that streamed down her face.

“Please don’t leave me! I promise I’ll spend more time with you, just please don’t go…” she cried into your chest, her words muffled as she tugged you into her, her grip tight.

“What are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere,”

“Then why are you taking your luggage outside?!” she wailed, her nails digging further into you, afraid that you’d leave the second she loosened her grip.

“What? Those aren’t mine.”

“Huh?” she sobbed out. “Then whose are those?”

“They’re Tony’s, from when he and Pepper used to live here. They still have a bit of stuff here they haven’t moved to the cabin yet, he wanted me to finally bring it over for him.” you explained slowly, knowing that the lack of sleep was finally catching up on your redheaded girlfriend.

“Then what about you ignoring me?” she asked softly, her grip finally loosening.

“I was listening to music,” you showed her the air pods still in your ears. “I couldn’t hear you. I didn’t even know you were in here. I thought you decided to use one of the meeting rooms instead. You know I would never intentionally ignore you,”

Natasha nodded; her eyes grew heavier listening to the soothing sound of your voice. “Promise me you’ll never leave me.” she begged, tilting her head up to look into your eyes.

“I promise, there is nothing in this world that would make me leave you. Ever.” you promised, pecking her on the lips.

“I love you; you know that right?”

“Of course, I do, and I love you too. To Vormir and back.”

“Where’s that?” she asked sleepily, her head thudding on your chest again.

“Not sure… just came into my head.” you laughed, picking her up in your arms. You brought her back to your shared bedroom, placing her underneath the covers.

“Stay,” she said, grabbing a hold of your arm.

“Of course.” Bringing her into your arms, you placed a firm kiss on her head, letting sleep envelope the two of you.

↠↠↠

864 words

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #avengers #avengers x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #mcu #marvel #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n

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alienpossession · 5 months

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Body a Day 19: Father

Read the first part here

I was estranged from my homophobic father ever since I graduated college and lived on my own.

I bet deep down he knows about my whole sexcapade with the football jocks throughout high school and then the buddies I brought along during winter break were more than just regular buds. But he chose to not rock his own boat with outing his own gay son and believed that I just chose to went away from him and lived my life.

I finally reached out to him after 7 years as I projected to marry my partner next year and how fast he's approaching 60. I was anxious because I surely would rock his boat by doing this. Yet, contrary to my belief, he took the news well and even congratulated me. He was warm, appreciative and seemed more focused and less talkative, but maybe that's just his way to process the whole news.

As I planned to head back home to San Diego next Monday, I started to pack my luggage. Then, out of the blue, my father walked in my room only in his underwear, a rather common sight around this house during my visit yet still startled me everytime

"Oh, you are not staying for Christmas, Brad?"

"I told you, I promised Dylan that I'll join his family's Christmas in order for him to introduce me to his family,"

"Ahh, that's too bad,"

"Well, you can join me if you want. You haven't met Dylan after all,"

"No no, that's not what I mean. It's too bad that you'll not be able to join Dylan to celebrate Christmas,"

My father instantly leaped like a crazed beast and pinned me to the bed. I tried to fight the hardest but he's simply too strong and seemingly out of his mind. Then, with a sinister smile, he released his increasingly erect cock from his underwear and let it dangle right on top of my gaped mouth and nose. With precision, he then submerged that fat musty inches of manmeat right to my mouth while his hand held my head to keep my head in its place. His face shown a level of seriousness and rather observant look as I let him have a go with my mouth even though I was fully repulsed by the whole thing. It's like as if despite my mind screaming for help, his presence hypnotized me to not make a scene and let it all happen

As the speed of him pistoning that meat in and out of my mouth increased, I started to sense another presence within me. Something cold and foreign lodged in my throat and I can feel the freezing sensation spread slowly yet surely all across my body. As he grunted and telling me that he's about to cum, the sensation already reached 80% of my body but when the geyser finally exploded, I instantly went blank

---

"Hey Dyl, my father insisted on this so he bought you a ticket to Miami to come join us by the beach! Pack your bag and head down here first, then we'll go to your family's home in Delaware together," texted Brad with a smirk on his face while his left hand busy caressing his docile dad's body. Now it's finally inside the son, it feels truly right at home as the son is more age appropriate to ensure its long-lasting and far-reaching presence on Earth with this overflowing stamina and libido to carryout multiple conversion a day. Dylan's family seemed pretty hot based on Brad's memories of seeing their picture, might be a good way to celebrate Christmas by making all of them just like Brad's dad over here, an empty husk that will do nothing except following the conditions implanted on him

#alien possession #male possession #body a day

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youronlydarlin · 4 months

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warnings: noncon/dubconish??, incest, Kylar being nasty per usual, good sibling pc, bad grammar

Kylar's probably an incest loving freak. It's been years since the terrible accident that's befallen his parents, oh, well, your parents too actually, but one thing was for sure, that none of you ever recovered from it. The mansion was never the same again, at times it was hard to even walk around, the painful memory of what was once a happy childhood collecting dust like the furniture covered in white sheets, piled in some forgotten corner of the room.

You're heartbroken, to say the least. Grieving what you've never lost, considering how you're "parents" are technically still here, but they're in the form of something that's more monster than man. Not to mention... Your brother. He's probably taking it the hardest, you think. The lil fella spending most of his days couped up in his room doing god knows what. Has he eaten..? Drank water..? What about school, how're his studies..? You worry about him, your once bright eyed little brother who always waited at the door for you, awaiting the moment you'll come home from your classes. Hugging your waist, and giving you a big grin each time, showing off his missing tooth. You'd ruffle his hair, and pinch at his cheeks, telling him that you'll have to greet ma, and pa first, then you can play together. Oh, how you've missed those times dearly. You feel as though you never treasured them enough, feels as though you should've taken each memory and put it in a chest, locked, and sealed away, till the day comes where you'd mourn them with bloodshot eyes, and trembling fingers. But till then, you have to be strong, be brave, be the person that your brother needs, you tell yourself that you owe him this..

And, oh, how Kylar loves the way you think..

His older sibling, his family, his angel..

You're the only good thing in this godforsaken world that he has left. He might not make it to heaven, but at least he has his own little slice of eden on earth. And it's all thanks to you, you, you, you. You're all he ever thinks about, your existence alone is what keeps him sane, what keeps him tied to this lonely realm. He doesn't know what he'll do without you, what wouldn't he do..?

You're so kind to him, so loving, so caring. He's convinced himself that you two are soulmates. The fact that you were born from the same womb proves that he's already shared half of his heart to you, and the whole of his soul. He's belonged to you, as much as you belonged to him. Forever, and ever, you two were fated to be together.

Kylar's a real nasty fuck, that, we all know. It's a universal fact none of us can deny, so knowing this he probably takes advantage of you, you and your sweet, loving, nature.

The horndog drugs your food probably, excusing the odd taste as him being an inexperienced cook. And you, as the most caring sibling in the world, believes him. You feel lightheaded as you do, you're halfway through your plate when you excuse yourself. Feeling bad that you couldn't even finish the food that your little brother's cooked for you. He on the other hand, doesn't seem offended at all. If anything, he encourages you to lie down, albeit on his bed. And so you do, he takes you to his room, and you have half a mind to make sense what's happening.

Kylar pushes you down on the bed, and you don't have the strength to fight him off. Closing your eyes almost as soon as your back hits the plush material of his mattress that he's layed there specifically for you.

Has a camera set at the side, filming himself defiling your body. And, this probably isn't the first time it'll happen, nor the last. At times the lil shit would spike your drink, and make you take his dick on whatever surface you land on. Sometimes he'll just plain out ask you if you could sleep together, you think he's just lonely, so you agree each time, and he uses that opportunity to fuck your thighs, sucking marks on your neck to quiet down his pathetic whimpers.

a/n: the endings kinda shitty, sorry, ran out of brain juice, and english also isn't my first language so lmk if I made any mistakes! You have a great day now, dollface..

–dolly

#dol #degrees of lewdity #kylar the loner #dol kylar #x gn reader #freak kylar agenda

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yourlocaltreesimp · 8 months

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Memories I hope to Hold

Cal!LinkxReader Hurt/Comfort I think

TW: Mentions of death and the Calamity but that’s really it

Not edited, please excuse my poor spelling

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Today you were going to die. You had less qualms with it than you originally expected. After everything that had happened in the past few months or was it a year yet? death just seemed like an unfortunate add on to the many, many things out of your control. The sun hadn’t even breached the horizon, yet you didn’t miss its warmth. You’d only have until midday to bask in it if you were lucky, and even then you weren’t sure you wanted to. Despite the early morning dew still sticking to the grass, some of Hateno was awake with you. The tech lab, for which you’d been residing since your arrival, if you could even call it that, had white tufts of smoke pluming out from its stone chimney. Purah and Robbie had been lovely friends, letting you chip in with your knowledge about Hyrule. It was amazing to have ears that listened rather than dismissing you, you might not have been from Hyrule, but that didn’t mean that you knew nothing. Of course, you knew the story’s beginning. But more importantly, you knew it’s morbid end. The world to dust and ashes and everyone you knew either laying within their graves or just about approaching. You looked over your map one more time, each shrine you wished to visit pinned carefully. Your hand hovered over the glass screen of your sheikah ‘switch’, your old and once broken nintendo switch repaired with sheikah magic. Purahs birthday gift to you. You pressed decisively on the Central tower.

You looked out at the field you arrived here in, nothing but your switch and the clothes off your back. The sun painted the familiar field a soft gold, so deceptively welcoming. You thought back to that very day, surly a year ago by now.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Your head was splitting. The open sky above you swirled and faded in and out. Your limbs were made of lead and two voices spoke words you could not make out, but it didn’t matter, you could not bring yourself to care.

When your eyes flicked back open you were met with an incredibly confusing sight. Lush grass for hundreds of meters around, wildflowers dotting the green field with bright color, your switch was now shattered on your chest and you were not on Earth anymore. No. Not close. Two familiar blondes stared at you. One set of green eyes, incredibly concerned, eyebrows knitted with worry. The other set of blue, distrusting and guarded, arm extended to keep the other back, but beneath the harshness, you saw fragility. Maybe not now, granted, but you knew it was there. But so long spent observing Link’s journeys and memories, it’s difficult to fool you with hardened eyes and armour after you saw what lay beneath. You sat up, pushing off the ground to stand, shuffling back on your feet. The blood drained from your head, leaving you woozy and dizzy. You righted yourself as carefully as you could, not wishing to do yourself any more damage.

“U-Uh Where…” Words came slow and difficult, like the words had to pass through a coffee filter to get out, “Where are we?” You knew- well, you didn’t know but you had an idea.

“Central Hyrule, South east of Castle Town. What are you- How did you get here?” The princess had an equal parts wonder as distrust in her tone. You made your decisions rapidly, pretending not to know too much might fair well depending on what they know.

“Hyrule? Castle town? Forgive me I am… Unfamiliar… How did I?” You looked around, the familiar tower glowing a brilliant blue stood tall behind you. You staggered back, trying still to comprehend what it was you were seeing. “What on Earth? I don’t.” You turned back around to see the two moved away from you when you moved closer. You tried your hardest to not take it personally. “I’m sorry, I’m not quite sure myself.” Your voice was quiet and tapered off, the familiar bite of panic knawed just behind your sternum. Your lungs drew their breaths quicker, your aching mind tried to race to a probable conclusions and drawing up blanks.

“You do not know of Hyrule?”

Yes. “No.”

“How Peculiar”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

How peculiar it was indeed. Moreover that you ended up staying with the both of them for longer after that. It was funny how that entire conversation determined everything that happened afterward. Zelda and you worked on the study of the divine beast and their functions, you learned a great deal of Hyrule’s history and culture from her, adapting to your new home. And Link… well you had just as many words to describe him as words he had to say. Infinitely many, and yet no mix of them could truly ever make sense, to you or to anyone else. Besides, You had to get home, not dwell on such trivial thoughts and such sharp eyes and caring nature and selfless kindness. The world demanded your attention elsewhere, and so you went. Your fingers hovered carefully over the Akh Va’quot shrine before feeling yourself be whisked away.

You tugged your cloak around you as the familiar bite of Hebra’s wind hit once more. Rito Village bustled with the early morning chores, children running around and adults setting up their businesses. You remembered the first time you came here like it was yesterday, the so many rows of stairs captivating in combination with the bird people that inhabited it.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

You could hardly contain yourself as you made you way up all of the stairs. You were spellbound -as you frequently were by Hyrule, how couldnt you?- by the rolling mountains and staggering peaks of Hebra around you. The rest of the champions were already met at Revali’s landing, talking with one another with practiced ease you’d yet to find. You hung back, admiring the views while Zelda and Link passed, letting them join the flow of conversation before you had to. Greetings were exchanged, some even to you which you tried to meet with the same warmth. And yet you couldn’t find it in yourself. Looking at the group of champions, you couldn’t help but feel like an add on… an extra piece of a puzzle there was no room for. You’d met with them more than a few times before, and every time you were met with nothing but welcome, especially after they were informed of your circumstance (and got over their rightful unease). You were so withdrawn that you failed to notice the group trying to draw your attention. You jumped slightly as a gentle hand rested on your shoulder, tensing completely before relaxing. The group stared at you for a moment, and all you wanted to do was leave, to run into the forest and never have to face them again. You might’ve, If it weren’t for Link’s hand on your shoulder, keeping you just the slightest bit grounded.

“Hey, (y/n) you alright?” Daruk was hardly ever worried, as he hardly ever had much that could cause genuine threat to him.

“Yeah sorry I just- I- We dont have sights like this back home and I guess I just feel a little homesick.” Not technically a lie, but not a whole truth.

“Understandable. Rito village is a sight for everyone, even for those from Hyrule. It is no surprise you’re captivated.” Revali crossed his arms? wings? And closed his eyes with confidence, smirking if he could. You allowed yourself a polite smile and another look at the surrounding mountains.

“I find myself more impressed the longer I stay here. It only makes me want to see more. I will say, Zoras domain can’t be topped by anything in my mind.” Mipha smiles gratefully, you’d managed to form a genuine connection with her, especially considering how sweet she was. The rest of that evening went smoothly, plans and conversation explained and discussed over a long dinner.

By the end, the sun was nearly gone, its warmth leaving with it. As you began to leave for the castle, a familiar grey cloak was slipped around your shoulders. It smelled vaguely of pine and grass, sunken into the fabric to the point it couldn’t be removed. You stared at the knight as he walked away from you, a flush growing over your cheeks with your endearing smile.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

You still smiled at the memory, something so trivial at the time was so… easy to read now. You checked the time- shit. You were running late. You had give or take two or three hours left before the sky came falling in. Before the worlds malice stood to fight once more. You didn’t think twice this time before clicking on the Mogg Latan shrine.

Mount Satori was just as beautiful as it always was. The twisting cherry tree letting its fragile pink blossoms fall into the clear water. Silent princesses bloomed around the rocks in the water. You could see your own bittersweet smile in the reflection.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

“Where in the world are you taking me” Link led you determinedly by the hand, mischievous smile taken his face when he told you he had something to show you. Being wholly honest he could’ve shown you a wall of wet paint and you’d have watched it dry if it made him happy.

“You’re awfully impatient” Goddesses how you loved his voice, rare as it was. You could hear his sass, making you role your eyes in turn.

“You’re awfully secretive.” To be fair he couldn’t rebuke that, there was no lie in your words. So he simply kept moving onward.

Your breath was stolen as you looked at the lake in front of you. The familiar time-old cherry blossom in full bloom. A single pink petal fell, rippling against the clear water. You kept your hand weaved with Link’s as you maces closer. After admiring the scene before you your lips pursed to get out a word.

“Link- This- It’s utterly gorgeous” Your words were nearly gone with the wind, not wanting to intrude into the serenity with your words.

“Really is.” You turned to face him and his tender words to find his eyes already on yours. Now you were really speechless. His eyes were softened and cheeks slightly flushed as he took you in, memorising your face. And you found yourself doing the same, but there wasn’t much you hadn’t already noticed. The hairline scar aver his lip, sun spots over his cheeks from so long under the suns rays, wild sandy bangs obscuring his eyes from your view.

“One of the sights I want to hold onto and never let go” His words were equally as quiet now, as if he didn’t want even you to hear them. And in one of your rare moments of courage you found it in you to speak.

“Then don’t.” He took you in his arms so gently, wrapping himself around you as if you’d shatter. But even with that, you knew when you were flush that you’d never truly leave this moment. You were met with the same scent again, pine and grass. He pulled back sooner than what you would’ve liked, but he did not give you long to mourn the loss. A calloused hand gently traced your jaw before his eyes of the endless sky above met with yours again. He kissed you slow and longing, so long spent yearning for you that it bled into his affection. Link had always felt himself tugging you closer, wanting to enjoy the moment before he was forced to abandon it. And he always was.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

In hindsight, you did get too attached. But you wouldn’t blame yourself, how could you? You were given the chance to be love and be loved in return that you didn’t see how far you’d fall afterward. But maybe meeting the world with open arms really was worth it. Maybe finally figuring out your place in the world was worth it. And maybe letting yourself fall for a love you could never have was worth it as well. A shrill cry pierced the once cerulean blue sky as it bled carmine red. You knew how the story ended, so how foolish you were to hope you could avoid it.

#legend of zelda #link x reader #link x you #angst #age of calamity #calamity ganon #hurt/comfort #x reader

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t4tadrienette · 10 days

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Goku definitely wanted to train Gohan for fun, just like Grandpa Gohan did with him, but then he wanted to respect Chichi's desire of him not becoming a fighter. He also spent 4 years of Gohan's life together and living peacefully.

But then he died, and when he came back, he found that Gohan was turned into a fighter by Piccolo, fair, I guess. He didn't see him fight, tho, he doesn't know the story behind him becoming a fighter, just that he was trained by Piccolo.

Then Gohan wants to go to Namek to find the dragon balls because he has to make sure their dead friends come back, and Goku goes wow that sounds like me, he also can't stand to stay on the side when it comes to these things.

Weeks pass, and now he's finally able to reach them on Namek. They have to fight, of course. Things happen. He's the only chance they have to defeat Freezer. Things fall apart now, Goku becomes Super Saiyan and tells Gohan to take Piccolo and get away. Goku is stuck alone on Namek. He saves himself by pure luck. He decides to stay where he is, to learn something new, to be able to also control his Super Saiyan state.

A year passes, and he comes back to earth. News from the future, saying that in 3 years, there's gonna be a new threat. They have to train, Gohan wants to train with him and Piccolo to fight this new threat. The three years have passed, and now there's another threat outside of the androids. Goku finally healed, he gets Gohan and tells him they're gonna train to defeat Cell. Gohan accepts to train with him. Gohan puts his all into that training, and Goku finds out Gohan has so many capabilities than what he shows. That's good! They have a chance at defeating Cell, maybe.

They finish their training, Goku wants Gohan to spend as much time with Chichi, and he wants to spend the remaining days before the Cell games as a family, you never know. The Cell games start, and Goku goes first to study him, to see how strong he is and if Gohan might have a chance. Oh, Gohan definitely has a chance. Come on, Gohan, now is your turn, I can tell you know you're stronger. Gohan is having difficulties, tho, Goku says it's just a matter of time before his fighting instict and anger sets in. But Gohan doesn't like fighting. That knowledge comes to Goku as a shock. He always assumed Gohan was fighting for the safety of the earth and for the love of fighting as well. At the end of the day, how could he think different, he never truly saw Gohan fighting, and at the end of the day, he was just picking up what Piccolo started in the first place. He never truly showed a disliking for fighting, or at least he never told him. He didn't know how in his first fighting against the Saiyans, he was petrified by fear. He wasn't there for the love of fighting, but because he had to, since he had this power.

Goku realises he miscalculated this. He immediately tells Krillin to pass him a bean so that he can get back into shape to go help him. Of course, Cell stops him before that. After Cell started to attack the others, finally Gohan snapped and unleashed his power, Goku was right after all. Gohan was definitely more powerful than him. He was the right warrior to defeat him. Gohan needs to defeat him once and for all, tho, but he doesn't. He says he has to have a slow and painful death. Those are some shocking words coming from Gohan. It doesn't sound like him. Well, now that has brought some problem, Cell is now about to explode and take all the earth with him. Now Goku has to make a decision. He will sacrifice himself. At the end of the day, he was the one to put Gohan in that position in the first place. It's only fair for him to do that. But, his sacrifice is useless, Cell comes back. Gohan tries his hardest, but his arm is broken. How can he defeat him now. But Goku is there to help him find the strenght and the others too. In the end, Gohan finds the strength to finally beat him.

It's time to revive people. There's still the problem of Goku not being able to be resurrected a second time. They think hey maybe we can use the dragon balls from Namek. But Goku stops them. He thinks that Bulma was right. He only attracts threats that put the earth in jeopardy, Piccolo, the Saiyans, the androids, and Cell. Maybe if he stays dead, they will stop coming. Like that, he will not put Gohan in danger anymore, Gohan will not have to fight anymore. So at the end of the day, it's better for him to stay away, rather than him staying with them, after all he was the one to put Gohan in that situation in the first place. In the end, he makes the selfless choice for Gohan. Maybe it's better for him not to have a father, but being safe, than having a father and being put into danger. At least, that's what he thinks is the right thing to do

#i don't know what this is but the goku decides to stay dead because he feels guilty compels me so much and at the end of the day #it doesn't make him a bad dad like many people think i think people also focus too much on the part where he said well like this i can meet #more powerful opponents when i think he was saying that also to not make them feel too bad #i'm of the opinion that he did it ultimately because he felt guilty for the gohan vs cell even tho it isn't entirely his fault #is he really to be blamed fully for not having notice gohan didn't like fighting when gohan never said anything and for a reason or another #he couldn't stay that much with gohan and the only time he stayed with him it was to train him #anyway i love the nuances about goku as a father truly shows him not to be as black and white as too many people think #also i probably changed verb conjugation so many times so pardon but like when i start making long posts i kinda lose track of what i said #previously so it's kinda of a mish mash of very mixed thoughts #dragon ball z #son goku #son gohan #dbz posting

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hayffiebird · 3 months

Text

Taste of Strawberries, chap. 41

Hayffie Post-Mockingjay Multi-chapter, Rated M

Four years have passed since the end of the war when Effie returns in to Haymitch’s life once again. An old friendship is renewed. Will it lead to something more?

Meanwhile Panem has entered a new era. The rebellion’s over, the borders are open but in the shadows, anger and mistrust are smoldering. Something that will affect Haymitch and Effie’s life in a way they never saw coming.

Author’s note: TRIGGER WARNING for mentions of suicide and life’s general awfulness à la young mentor Haymitch. So, yeah. This lil’ chapter is hella depressing.

Chapter 41

Piece by piece

June wouldn’t look at him – not once – as she tied balloons to a nearby tree. Floating ones of every color, just outside the cream colored party tent. The helium canister stood by her feet. A big cylinder thing, gray as stormy seas. If anything it looked like the bombs that a Capitol hovercraft might drop.

Course, he knew better than to blurt that out.

The party tent was anchored at every corner, accompanied by more of June’s floating balloons. Tethered to the ground and tied up with ribbons. The sidewalls had all been removed, leaving the waterproof ceiling above, just in case of rain.

The garden table was set up with the plump coffee pot and matching china. Pretty glasses with soft yellow napkins. Frog green plastic plates and sippy cups for the birthday kids along with a stack of gifts.

Sitting in a bucket of ice was a bottle of (obviously) alcohol-free apple cider and over by June’s apple tree: Effie’s picnic blanket spread out in the shade – just in case it didn’t rain.

“You did it wonderful out here”, he told the blonde woman’s back. “Sincerely.”

Nothing. Not even a sour: “I didn’t do it for you.” If Annabel’s patience was wearing thin, he was one drunken stupor away from making June an enemy.

Not that he wasn’t used to it. Making enemies.

Her silence. Her body language. He knew it all too well. Used to get it all the time back home. Not so much anymore. Post-rebellion.

“Because you helped put an end to Snow. An end to the Games”, Effie said but that wasn’t it. He hadn’t redeemed himself. The supposed thawing of District 12 toward him was all due to the depressing fact that almost no one survived the fire bombings.

But in the glory days – the hateful glances, the cold shoulders, even confrontations was all part of his everyday life. Took only a few seasons.

For about a second after his Quell, him actually winning breathed a sense of hope into the district. Not only because of Parcel Day - those monthly food packages sent in the first year. It was the fact that Twelve finally, finally had a mentor now. A mentor clever enough to win one of the hardest Games in history. Surely it would make a difference? Surely!

Course, it didn’t take him long to prove them wrong and all that hope and optimism turned cold and bitter as a winter storm. It wasn’t just that they resented him for not doing enough. He was also their living breathing reminder of the Games. Past and future.

And as the dead children under his care accumulated he spent less and less time outside the house, unable to look at the young faces of towners and Seam kids alike, wondering which one was next.

That and their loved ones. Families, friends, sweethearts of the kids he failed to bring home. They shouldn’t have to endure his presence more than absolutely necessary. Not if he could help it.

Like the funerals. Few things on this Earth could compete with his hatred for the reaping but those god awful double funerals were definitely up there.

As the mentor, he was expected to attend. And he did, the first couple of years.

Dandruff wasn’t present of course. You didn’t escort dead children back. It was just him and a handful of mourners, carefully selected. All presided over by an armada of peacekeepers, armed to the teeth.

The Iron Maiden and later old Cray held a speech over the small-sized coffins but it was never really about the dead, or the living. More like … sitting round the table and now let’s all give thanks to our lord and savior president Snow.

You’d think there’d be flowers. White, perfume-reeking roses, reminding you of who ran this show. But of course not. Snow wouldn’t waste a single bloom on something as unimportant as a dead tribute. Not even the local wild rose that Katniss might encounter out in the woods.

The last funeral he ever went to was before she and Peeta were born. Effie must have still been a child.

Dandruff reaped a couple of Seam kids that year, just like she did most seasons. 15 year old Laurel and Douglas – just twelve. None of them made it past the bloodbath.

Their families weren’t to go near the coffins to say a final goodbye or put down a daisy. They were just an audience. A class of school children and like the dutiful crowd they kept their expected distance while the Head Peacekeeper ran their pathetic charade.

Lauren’s parents, her brothers and sisters all sobbed together. Silent ones so as not attract the attention of those rifles. Douglas’s mother seemed in chock. Her eyes stared at nothing, bone dry, while her husband - face sunken, a head shorter than her - cried for the both of them.

Haymitch kept his distance at the scene, like he always did. Out of respect for the families. Their pain. But his eyes had flitted to Douglas‘s father at one point and right in that moment Tucker looked at him.

The coal miner knew the mentor would be there. Or maybe not. The funerals were never aired. Not unless there was a special year, like the Quells. Either way he looked stunned, staggered. Like coming out of a dream.

And then, rage took its place. There was no other word for it. And he left his wife’s side. Elbowed himself right through the crowd. Haymitch knew what was coming. Could have deflected it. Easily. After his time in the arena he had reflexes like a wild rabbit. But he didn’t and Tucker struck him to the ground. His body had barely hit the dirt before the man was all over him.

Hand clenched into a fist he punched his face, over and over. Busted his lip up, his nose, his eyebrow – all the time hollering the same thing.

“Murderer! You murderer! Child-murderer!”

Tucker never got to finish the job. Later that same day, only hours after they buried their son, wails could be heard from the coal miner’s house. Peacekeepers arrived to learn the cause of the racket and found Tucker in the bedroom covered in blood, holding his dead wife’s body.

The realization that her only child was gone must have finally hit her. She’d cut her wrists open with her husband’s shaving knife.

The peacekeepers wanted to retrieve the body but Tucker, mad with grief, wouldn’t let them anywhere near Eliza. Teeth bared he fought their every attempt until they shot him.

Square in the chest.

That night, Haymitch got himself drunk for the first time. The Hob was closed but he found his way into the Seam, guided by whatever moonlight he could make out through his one good eye. Knocked on Ripper’s door. Asked for a bottle of white liquor.

The one-armed woman hesitated, reluctant to sell to someone still so young. But her gaze travelled across his bashed, beat up face. His eye swollen shut. The gashes, the crusts of blood, the red and purple bruises.

Finally she nodded.

The liquor burned just as much as he remembered – from that one time with the butcher’s. A beverage so vile no one with any sense left, or choice, would drink it willingly. But he powered it down.

Every drop.

Sip by sip, mouthful by mouthful – even when he gagged on it, even though he knew he’d puke himself into another nosebleed in just a matter of hours.

He did it anyway. To rid himself off their faces. Their voices. If just for a little while.

Laurel, dead. Douglas, dead. Eliza bleeding out in her husband’s arms. Tucker with a hole in his chest.

Murderer! You murderer! Child-murderer!

That was the last time he ever went to a funeral. They could put him in chains, throw him in a cell, flog him or just shoot him on sight like they did Tucker. He didn’t care.

And as time wore on, he spent less and less of it outside the Victor’s Village. He reckoned there’s where he’d do the least harm. He actively pushed people away, alienated himself from the rest of the community.

Stopped spending any real time with Sae and Hazelle and all the rest. Was rude and hurtful on purpose to keep people at a distance. Like Tessa when she arrived at his door step, wanting to treat his face with her soothing herbs and salves.

He shut her out. Shut them all out.

So they’d be safe.

He drew a deep soundless sigh. Stared at the tiny lady bug crawling up a purple ribbon.

He meant what he told June. And he wanted the twins to have all this. And yet ... the whole thing felt increasingly unreal. Presents, balloons, birthday cake.

Why did he get to be here celebrating his kids growing up when so many good, decent, innocent people were all just bones in the ground?

It wasn’t fair and he didn’t deserve it.

Any of it.

#hayffie #haymitch x effie #the hunger games renaissance #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #district 11 #my fanfiction #post-mockingjay #young haymitch

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tokiro07 · 3 months

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Undead Unluck ch.195 thoughts

[You Are What You Eat]

(Contents: worldbuilding - backstory/Master Rules, character analysis - Sun/Beast, thematic analysis - happiness)

Y'know, it's odd, this is my first week in like a year and a half where UU is the only review I need to write for Jump, so I figured it would be a lot easier for me to motivate myself to do it

And yet, this has been one of the hardest to get myself to start

I wonder if it's because I'm sad about the loss of Cipher Academy and Martial Master Asumi? Or do I just feel like I don't have much to say on this chapter? It's hard to say, but I've found that when I'm feeling down on the idea of doing something I know I enjoy, simply getting started on it usually helps reignite the enthusiasm, so here goes nothing!

The big thing about this chapter is definitely the worldbuilding. I think we all suspected that the Creation Story of UU started with man and expanded out from there (we once saw Victor standing alone in an empty wasteland at what was presumably the beginning of time), but the visual of countless souls simply floating around a molten rock paints such a striking picture of this world's origin

My favorite part of that visual though has to be the Sun and Moon looming in the sky, a grim reminder that both of them are above humanity in the pecking order. Even with the Moon standing between the Earth and Sun, shielding the Earth from the blinding and burning light of the Sun, the idea that the Moon is "protecting humanity" is of cold comfort when you consider that we still don't understand Luna's motivations, and she seems to be just as if not more sadistically invested in the struggles of the humanity

I think it's worth noting too that Beast never says "Sun" added the Rules; he says "God" added the Rules out of boredom and curiosity. For all we know, the worldbuilding itself was a collaborative effort between Sun and Luna, and it was only much later that the two of them decided that the only way to truly kill their boredom was to compete with each other. This is supported by Beast's statement that he was added to the game because God tired of seeing man vs. man and wanted to see a new enemy type (which, interestingly, apparently was done repeatedly since new Beast sub-Rules had to be added in over time like Tyrannosaurus, Shark, and of course, Crab), suggesting that the conflict between Negator and UMA came later

There's also an interesting little contradiction in Beast's story: God added the Rules to torment humans and "find what they desired; the greatest life of them all." Why does God care about that? If the Rules are meant to instill suffering and nothing more, what interest does God have in knowing what it means to live well? Is this a Darkseid "Anti-Life Equation" deal where God wants to know what makes humans happiest so he can take it away and maximize despair? Or is it a Komaeda situation and God believes that happiness is found through suffering, and is setting up the ultimate despair in hopes that it will allow the ultimate hope to shine brighter? I could really see it going either way, but I kind of hope it's the latter cus I think that it'd be more interesting if even the UMAs have the wrong idea about God's ultimate goals

Actually, if it is the latter, that would imply that Ruin has the right of it, wouldn't it? "I'm sure there's meaning in the suffering brought on by the Master Rules." While it currently seems like Ruin is delusional and justifying the cruelty of God, it's possible that he's the only one who actually understands what God wants: to create the ideal and happiest form of life on Earth. That might even be the core of the conflict between Sun and Luna, that they both want what they think is best for man, they just fundamentally disagree on what that is. If I had to guess, it's similar to One Piece in that the dichotomy is between Order and Freedom, where one believes that rigid adherence provides happiness through security while the other believes that choice at the risk of regret is more satisfying. The City Mouse and the Country Mouse, for my Chainsaw Man fans

Despite how close we seem to be getting to the story's climax, it's still too early to draw any conclusions on that front, but Tozuka definitely seems to be sprinkling those themes throughout the story. While they may be overwritten later with more context, it's never too early to interpret the themes as they're presented

On a more immediate note, I love the implication that Beast was added as the Seventh Master Rule and ended up getting demoted to Ninth later. This really speaks to the prevalence of Time (identity pending) and Language to the human experience; man eventually conquered Beast as the apex predator, there are no animals that man cannot kill, and in fact it's widely accepted that we are the objectively bigger threat to them, but the Language barrier? That's a direct impediment to human communication and solidarity, so while it may not be as damaging as Justice, it's undeniable that it's a bigger threat to us as a species than any animal could be. And of course, Time has always been a major enemy to the human experience; no matter what diseases you overcome, what animals you conquer and eat, what languages you learn, your time will come. You can delay it, but the longer you do, the harder it becomes to do so; your bones will weaken, your mind will slow, and even your very genes will fray and fail you one day. Time isn't the real killer, so War and Death are obviously worse, but just because it isn't as bad doesn't mean it isn't cruel, and much more so than Beasts. Beast's desire to reclaim "the Era of Beasts" is proof enough that the advancements of man have cost him his former rank

Beast also said that the Rules are not designed to benefit man, but that's either his own shortsightedness, merely a taunt to obscure the truth, or a testament to the strength of man. Beasts are food, clothes, and even companions. Language is an obstacle, but also a tool and an art. Time is an inevitability, but one that carries with it the benefit of experience even at the expense of longevity. We don't know much about the top 6, but at least these "weaker" Master Rules carry a very clear set of benefits along with their impediments. If God truly didn't intend for these benefits, then man is that much more impressive for bending the Rules to fit their needs, and if he did in secret, then that reinforces my earlier point that the suffering is merely meant to push man to greater heights

Maybe I shouldn't be putting this much effort into analyzing these points now since they're likely to either come up or be disproven later, but half the fun is following the breadcrumbs that Tozuka leaves for us over time. Much like Ruin's faith in God, I have faith that Tozuka's words are meaningful to the final message of the story, so ignoring them as they come just because they don't show the full picture is like missing the trees for the forest

What I am going to wait on though is talking about Top's decision to pit Unbreakable vs. Unbreakable, as that's going to be developed and possibly resolved in the next chapter. While I'm sure I could come up with a lot to say now, I get the distinct feeling that this is a tree that's better served being given time to grow

Phew! I had a lot more to talk about than I thought, and I was right, I feel a lot better now. Hopefully the suffering of losing CA and MMA was just an obstacle I needed to overcome to reaffirm the happiness I feel from reading UU, and that going forward I'll be able to continue to use that as motivation to keep bringing you all fun analyses like this!

Until next time, let's enjoy life!

#undead unluck #fouryearsandananime #4y1a reviews

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weakly-skoodge · 6 months

Text

Week Forty Seven!

“Huff…”

At least it’s still nice to be able to stand off to the side and watch. Even as infuriating as Earth is, and how infuriating it can sometimes be to see Zim get stuck in his routine… it’s somehow simultaneously refreshing, for Skoodge to be watching him.

While some aspects of Zim have changed over the years, shifted to better adapt to his environment, his personality has remained almost unchanged. The thing that draws people in – or away – the most, that has been relatively consistent his entire life.

Loud, bossy, pushy, captivating…

… Everything he has been, even way back in the education plugs.

It wouldn’t be too big of a stretch to say that Skoodge is still as absolutely charmed by those same eccentricities as he was centuries ago – even after being separated from them.

“Come now, Skoodge! I know you can do better than that!”

Even if those eccentricities might end up killing him one day. At least with Zim, Skoodge knows that getting killed by him will be more incidental, rather than malicious. Zim tends not to be aware of the radius of chaos that’s always surrounding him.

A shaky wheeze wriggles its way out from his flabby throat. “I’m trying – hhng – my hhhuhardest –”

“Your hardest is clearly not hard enough.” Zim clicks his tongue. “Here, let me.”

Steps sound out in the grass, taken just outside of Skoodge’s field of vision.

Two tiny hands make themselves known as they grasp along his backside, the abrupt sensation causing him to jolt in place.

“– Whuh-at are you–?”

Cccrr-RA-ck-CK!

Skoodge goes limp, stuck in a half-bent position from his failed attempt at touching his toes. His hands hang below him. He can’t feel his spine.

He wheezes. It sounds hollow and utterly dead.

Zim hums. Skoodge can’t look up to see it, but he’s almost certain that the other is stroking his chin in some provoking thought. “Eh. That did nothing. You really are dookie at this, Skoodge.”

Skoodge would love to bite back with some equally sardonic remark – perhaps something that could really give Zim pause. Something along the lines of not all of us can be built like tiny little pretzels, Zim. But, unfortunately for him – or maybe, fortunately – all of his mouth functionality has been lost along with what used to be his back. He can’t even groan without risking more burning, searing pain to shoot its way through his body.

These morning stretches are not meant for an irken with Skoodge’s build. But Zim always insists on doing them right before a big scheme. Different from his regular ones. Doing these today means that something is coming, very, very soon.

Not soon enough, Skoodge thinks. He doesn’t really know what the special occasion is. Not yet at least, since Zim was so insistent on not spoiling the surprise – and Skoodge won’t get to knowing any time soon.

All he can really do now for the next hour or two is stare at the ground and his belly, and at his hands hanging limp, still unable to reach his feet, until his spine regenerates.

Terrible. Cruel.

This is like that Earth ‘Hell’. His own highly specific form of torture. Repentance for his crimes.

Eh. At least he’s not starving. Or dead. He could always be dead!

… He’s pretty sure he’s thought that very specific thought a lot of times, already.

… Well, that’s only because it still holds true!

Yup! Mhmm! I love being not dead! And not suffering too, preferably, but hey! Beggars can’t be choosers!

He’s pretty confident he got the saying right, that time. He mentally pats himself on the back for it, well aware that he can’t actually do it thanks to his current predicament. The still lingering pain tingles that occasionally shoot throughout his body serve as helpful reminders not to move. Aah. Refreshing.

#somehow ive had this in my drafts for forever? and have just not posted it????#EDIT: IT WAS IN MY DRAFTS CAUSE I ALREADY POSTED ALL OF EM #switching it out for writing #oops!#written skoodge #weekly skoodge

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sitp-recs · 1 year

Note

hey liv how are you!! i’ve been craving some gut-wrenching angst lately, and i was wondering if you had a reclist for draco hating himself for loving harry, like he thinks it’ll always be unrequited or that they’ll never work, but can’t help himself either way? not sure if this is too specific or if i’m just describing pining!draco with a side of angst LOL, but i wanted to ask my favourite reccer! pls don’t feel pressured to answer (or to answer quickly), i know you get soo many requests!! thank you so much for everything you do 🤍

Hello anon! Hehe I see you’re a hardcore angst fan, I envy those whose heart can take it on big doses 🥲 I think you might enjoy these:

An Emerald In The Sky by corvuscrowned (M, 6.6k)

The hardest part about shagging an Unspeakable is that they’re not allowed to speak of anything. All Draco knows is that Harry works in Time. Harry works in Time, and while he’s out there in all of that time, it is as unforgiving to him as it is to anyone.

you've got the antidote for me by Kandakicksass (M, 20k)

When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want.

Tuxedo Angel by tryslora (E, 25k)

Harry and Neville are looking for the infamous Dragon Lily, a Dark witch active throughout Europe and Asia. Instead, they find the Tuxedo Angel, a beautiful witch performing in Rome.

Waiting By An Open Door by Femme and noeon (E, 29k)

Draco starts following Potterwatch secretly during the War. He wishes Potter would come save him too. But that sort of thing only happens in fairy tales, and Malfoys don't get fairy tale endings, do they?

Everything is Relative to You by @thehoneybeet (E, 43k)

Potter was supposed to have lived. Draco is certain of this. That Potter would no longer walk the earth was tantamount to the sun moving west to east across the sky. If only he could have stopped this from happening, if he’d have known…

The Boy Who Only Lived Twice by lettered (E, 54k)

Harry Potter is an Unspeakable. Draco Malfoy is the wizard who shagged him. Adventure! Intrigue! Secret identities, celebrities, spies! It's all right here, folks.

We Are Young (I'll Carry You Home Tonight) by Femme (E, 69k)

Harry and Draco have been falling into bed on and off again since the last election five years ago, much to the amusement--and financial gain--of their circle of friends.

Super Rich Kids by @thusspoketrish (E, 81k)

Draco Malfoy has become disillusioned by the glitz and glamour of the scandalous lives of the Post-Second Wizarding War Pureblood Elite.

Far From The Tree by aideomai (E, 112k)

The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.

Written on the Heart by who_la_hoop (E, 113k)

Unnerved by the attention he’s attracting from everyone – the Slytherins are the least of it, to be fair – and struggling with a raft of changes to Hogwarts itself, Harry wishes he could be happy that one constant remains: Draco Malfoy really fucking hates him.

Another Mask Behind You by lettered (E, 116k)

Draco is a high-end prostitute who hides his identity. Harry unknowingly hires him. And then there is porn, questions about identity, domestic bliss, more porn, and truth as seen through a web of lies.

Close Behind by @oflights (M, 134k)

To rescue Draco from the Underworld, Harry has to look forward. Unfortunately, Draco has to look back.

By the Grace by lettered (T, 140k)

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

#asks #anon #drarry reclist #pining Draco #hardcore angst

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goodfish-bowl · 2 years

Text

Too Dead for This

Ectoberhaunt Day 24: Past

AO3 Link | Next Chapter

Summary: Things go sharply south after the "Disater-oid" incident. With the entire world being familiar with his face, and the GIW after him, Danny has been on the run for years. But after seven years, Danny stops running, and fights back. He dies for the second time that night. Danny Fenton wakes up in the body of his 14-year-old self, the day after the Accident.

Warnings: Violence in Self Defense, Phantom Planet compliant, Major Character Death

Words: 4381

Notes: Based on this au by @wheatsheep on expect I play more hurt the Danno for now. Perhaps. I've seen to have dug myself into a long-fic hole, so it's not going to be hurt the boy the entire time.

@ectoberhaunt

Danny knew he had awful luck; it was a proven fact. After the whole “Disater-oid” incident, keeping with the media trend of terrible names, he thought he might finally catch a break. Sure, his identity was out to the entire planet, and his face plastered all over every news outlet internationally, but they’d give him a break, right? Vlad wasn’t… around anymore, and the ghosts were actually leaving him alone to recuperate in their own way. He’d managed to save an entire planet, he needed to rest after pulling that off. He felt he deserved that much, at least. It’s not like they were building statues in his honor or anything. Sure, his parents were avoiding him (Jazz said they needed time to adjust), and no one on the news seemed to know how to react to the fact that ghosts were real, one had saved the earth, and said ghost was also a 15-year-old boy from Illinois.

But then there were news reporters seconds away from breaking into his house, and Danny actually had to stop one from trying to climb through his window. Sometimes he’d let one ask him a question from his window, or floating above them as Phantom, just to offer a few crumbs before they started making stuff up about him just to get something out there. He didn’t want another Inviso-Bill situation, especially internationally, and he had at least learned it was better to have a hand in the narrative than let it run wild without him. So no, he wasn’t getting much rest.

Sam and Tucker were also in their own form of social lockdown, which both of them took far more advantage of than he did. Tucker used it to score brownie points, and also got to talk to some big names in tech. Sam used the publicity to push her various causes and had developed an internet cult following overnight. Valerie took to it worse than he did, especially since she had developed a tendency to growl at the reporters if they tried to bother her at work, and nearly broke some tech-guy’s hand when he pushed too hard about her suit, leaving him little time to talk with them himself. The Nasty Burger was doing surprisingly well the past few days at least.

His parents decided to approach him sometime on day three. In short, it was awkward and uncomfortable, and Danny was infinitely thankful for Jazz’s ability to play interference. Danny had ended up spending most of that night trying to explain to his very confused parents that he really wasn’t possessed, hadn’t taken place of their son, did not have any evil influence affecting his every waking moment due to being a ghost, he had actually wanted to do the things he did (mostly), and clearing up any other miscellaneous misconceptions that came up. Jazz was probably the only reason it didn’t devolve into shouting or Danny getting jumped by his own parents and dragged into the lab. He just hoped some of it stuck with them, so he wouldn’t have to explain it again. The hardest part was when his parents asked if he had really died. That of course wasn’t something he really wanted to go over, but he told them all he could about the day in the lab. It seemed to pain them as much as it did him to go over it.

By day four, Danny was sure he could actually start to catch a break. His parents were talking to him (mostly ghost questions), and the news reporters had all miraculously disappeared sometimes late the night before. But he also hadn’t heard much from any of his friends either, just a partially concerned call from Mr. Lancer who wanted to talk to him about accommodations and making up schoolwork over the summer, tacked on to a ‘thank you for saving the world’ and an offer to talk whenever he needed it. Which was nice, but Danny wasn’t so sure Mr. Lancer was equipped to handle even half of his problems, even if he did appreciate the gesture.

Then, that afternoon, it all went to shit. The GIW rolled up to his house and demanded his parents hand him over to their custody. They cited the Anti-Ecto Acts and everything, and suddenly the lack of reporters made sense. The news reported had been chased off by the government. They didn’t want the public to know that they were going after his head. His parents confronted them, while Danny watched from the window. The answer was a resounding ‘no,’ and the GIW didn’t take it well.

Danny, Tucker, Sam, and Jazz had planned if things ever went south, but most of that plan depended on all of them being available. None of them except Jazz now were, but he had to make do. So, he took off, without the money from Sam or way to get in contact from Tucker. Jazz provided the cover and distraction for him to sneak through the perimeter the GIW had set up around his house. It was a close thing, and Danny had to stay human to keep him from pinging on their equipment, along with limited power use. It didn’t help that he was still exhausted, but he had no choice. He had to leave.

And so, Danny fled, and kept running. The entire world knew his face, so he couldn’t find any reprieve either. The GIW’s newest slander campaign was doing its damnest to make him a villain, and while that wasn’t very successful, everyone knew he was on the run. The news fought back, and there had been a reporter near his house anyways and had managed to catch part of the confrontation. He became more intensely nocturnal to avoid people, sleeping in empty hotel rooms during the day, and sneaking around at night. He stole food he needed during the night as well, but only from places he knew wouldn’t miss it. He could get into libraries and cafés to send out an email to Sam, Tucker and Jazz, but those messages were few and far between, and he was never able to get a message back.

The GIW were always on his tail, in some sort of twisted game of cat and mouse. They followed him all across the country, from the big cities to the boonies. Anytime he transformed, he knew he set off their alarms, and his only hope was leave faster than they could get to him. He couldn’t not transform either, he was still recognizable, and someone ended up tipping them off after a time anyway. He didn’t dare return to Amity or anywhere near there. It was too dangerous to both him and those he cared about. It was better to be constantly on the move.

Danny did get his few moments of rest. There was a nice couple in New York who hid him for a while, though he only suspected they did it due to their lost nephew. He also found his way to Aunt Alicia in Spittoon and had managed to hole up there for a good couple month. The people there were protective of their own, and when the GIW came knocking, they fought tooth and nail to buy him time to escape. There were less GIW agents after that. Another small town in Oregon had the GIW chasing their own tail more often not, until some of the locals decided he was too suspicious and chased him out themselves.

Danny fled to Canada for a while, and honestly should’ve stayed there. But it was harder to survive on the move since he didn’t know how to get food in the middle of the Canadian wilderness, even if it was the best hiding spot he found. He would have to venture into a settlement of some kind eventually. He had considered going more abroad to hide, where the US government couldn’t both him, but he didn’t think he could make it over the ocean on his own and didn’t feel like hiding in a place so close to people such as a plane or a boat for an extended period of time longer than an hour. It was too risky.

As for the ghosts, Danny would find one every now and again. He didn’t fight them, and they didn’t try to start anything with him. These encounters were brief, mostly to exchange news since the ghosts didn’t want to associate with him either. Danny never really did check the news himself anyway. His mental state was fragile enough without hearing the GIW blasting ads about what an awful being he was.

It was… lonely, especially once Danny found the rhythm to moving around and his days shifted from intensely stressful to more monotonous. He was too recognizable to be anonymous, and with the GIW chasing after him, no one wanted to get caught in the cross-fire, no matter who he was and what he had done. It had been years since he had seen his friends, only sending the occasional email when he could, and even then, those had become less detail oriented, more like personal journal entries. He wondered if there was anyone other than the GIW still looking for him. It had started to feel like his only hope was to just keep moving until the GIW eventually gave up.

But by year five, it didn’t seem likely, and the GIW were getting closer to catching him every time Danny took a chance or didn’t get out soon enough. They’re weapons were getting better, while they agents themselves got more skilled. But Danny had gotten a lot stronger himself, now that he was an adult. His powers were off the charts, at least he thought so. He hadn’t checked in so long, he no longer had a full bearing on what he was capable of. But he did get really good at hiding and using his powers while in human form. Danny was pretty sure he could completely hide his ectosignature if he needed to at this point.

Danny had just turned twenty-two when it all went further downhill. The slander campaign reached a peak, and now normal humans were gunning for his head, with the media finally backing off of his defense for some reason. He had been camping out in the woods for the day, sleeping far too high in a tree. Someone had spotted him, and the GIW swarmed that small town like nothing else he had even seen. They had new weapons. Ones that looked distinctly FentonWorks in design. They hurt, in more ways than one. Two agents found his tree and shot at him before he could fully wake up.

“Where did you get those?” Danny spat.

The agent snarled, “what? You didn’t think your parents would sell you out, freak? I was honestly surprised it took this long for them to crack, those failures of ectoscientists.”

“What did you do?” Danny hissed, his unused powers boiling under his skin, begging to bet let out.

The other agent laughed at him. “Got rid of those fools years ago! It only took us so long to get our hands on their tech because they tried damn hard to hide their more interesting inventions from us. They tried to protect you, even in death. How pathetic.”

Danny stopped running at that point. After seven years of it, he was tired, and decided in that moment, he had given up on waiting it out. No. His parents were gone, and he had no idea if his sister and friends were okay either. He halted in his tracks and snapped around, switching his tune completely. He was tired of being hunted; it was time to try to opposite to see if that worked instead. Those two agents never left the forest that day.

Cat and mouse became a different game. Danny would wage guerrilla warfare on the GIW, while they, in-turn, hunted him endlessly. Neither of them would relent, and neither would leave that small town as long as the other was there. So that small town in North Dakota became a battle ground. He should’ve felt bad about hurting the GIW, they were just human after all, but after all those years living in fear, Danny didn’t hesitate to strike down an agent. It was a ‘them or him’ situation. And they had killed his parents. It was a clear-cut decision from his perspective.

After so long without being on the offensive, Danny felt like the ectoblasts were burning through his hand, along with whatever he had managed to hit. They were much stronger than he remembered, and his ice came out more freely than it ever had before, but was that much more difficult to reign in. Between his lack of control and the GIW general indifference to collateral damage. That small town somewhere in North Dakota was nearly leveled in the process. He did feel bad about displacing the people that had lived there and hoped somewhere in the back of his head that they had all managed to get out safely.

But Danny could only keep up so long. There was one of him, and hundreds of them. They had managed to get more than a few lucky shots. Danny was littered with holes that burned, and it sapped his strength. But he ground his teeth and pushed through it. Then, it was no longer about survival; he wasn’t going to last much longer either way. He wasn’t going to get to finish growing up, or any of that. He knew what lied ahead of him. Danny was going to take those bastards with him on his way to hell.

Danny stood in the middle of the carnage, right out in the open. He let them fire first, but then unleashed carnage. His wail ripped from his throat, decimating what little infrastructure was left, full of grief and rage. He fired blasts after blast and encased the entire town in an early winter. He fought tooth and nail, hitting with as much strength as he could muster, tanking more hits than he blocked or dodged. He could almost see how Dan had taken comfort in the absolutely violence he wrought. But this was difference than mindless slaughter, he was more of a cornered animal than predator. He only stopped when the agents did, deep into the night. They didn’t come back with reinforcements in another wave, if they even had any left in this this horrible, small town in the middle of nowhere.

Danny collapsed, felt himself switch back, and bleed out in the middle of it all. At least he could see the stars, even if he would never reach.

Danny awoke with a choked gasp, clutching the sheets and whipping his head around wildly, confusion fogging up his mind. His entire body ached and burned, and his grip on his powers was slippery at best.

Danny awoke in a bed, a familiar one, and that was the first thing he noticed that was wrong. He was in a room, his room, that he hadn’t seen in years. All of his models and posters perfectly in place, just as he remembered, even the ones that had suffered since he had gotten his powers. But his room didn’t have the small stains that at had built up on the carpet from when he would sit on the ground to patch himself up. His sheets were untouched by small burns from ectoblasts set off by nightmares. It was like nothing bad had ever happened, but Danny could feel his powers, dancing in an uncertain flux under his skin. They hadn’t been this unstable since he had first gotten them.

As Danny shook the sleep from his head, the scenery didn’t change, and neither did his memories of the past seven years. It was distinctively not a dream, but here he was, in his own room, after what he knew had been his second meeting with death. Danny climbed out of his bed, and immediately wobbled on his feet. He should be taller than this, and the sudden height change threw him for a loop. He stumbled and wavered on his now too-short legs out of his room, across the hall, and practically crashed into the door of the bathroom when his intangibility refused to cooperate.

The face staring back at him was his own, but not the one Danny had come to know. This one was still padded by baby fat, eyes wide, flesh unscarred by anything other than the bright red Lichtenburg shooting up from the collar or his pajamas. It was seven years too young to be the face he had come to know as his own. Danny swayed and crashed to the bathroom floor. There was a shout from someone else in house. He was fourteen again, just after the accident that had taken his life from him. The past seven years were gone. Danny shuffled himself over the toilet and hurled.

The door opened and he was embraced. Danny stiffened and looked over his shoulder to see bright red hair and teal eyes he hadn’t seen since he had left. Jazz gave him a worried look.

“Danny? Are you okay? You don’t have to go to school if you don’t feel up to it. I’m sure we can convince mom and dad to call you in sick, especially after what happened yesterday. You need the rest, even if it is your first day of high school.”

“Jazz,” Danny whined, his eyes filling with tears. He sunk further into her embrace.

“Oh, Danny…” Jazz said gently, embracing him tightly.

Danny let himself cry and be led back into his room and back into his bed, taking any comfort he could get. Jazz planted a small kiss on his brow before giving him another soft, worried smile.

“I’ll talk to mom and dad. You just focus on getting better, okay?”

Danny nodded, tears blurring his vision as he watched Jazz walk away and out of his room, shutting the door gently behind him. As soon as the lock clicked, he broke down, choking on his own sobs so that no one would hear. He hadn’t cried in years, there had been no time, but now his jumbled mind couldn’t think of anything else to do. His eyes flares with his surge in emotions and he screwed them shut. He was all they way back at the beginning of everything, but a day too late to stop it all. He was already dead, but still too weak and unsteady to be of any use. Was this even a second chance? He could be hallucinating it all, or it could be some sort of twisted joke.

Danny took a deep breath to prevent himself from hyperventilating and grounded himself by focusing on the near-silent hum of his core. It was hard to pick out, which helped him focus in its own way. Last time, he hadn’t noticed until he was already on the run, but now he could feel his core steadily forming and solidifying in his chest after being used to a fully-developed one for so long. This one was still too fresh and fragile, smaller than he was used to. Danny curled up on himself and made a keening noise his throat wasn’t yet equipped to make.

Danny let the exhaustion sink deeper into his bones, which ached, and he fell into an unsteady sleep.

Danny awoke to the unfamiliar sound of a cell phone. It had been ringing for the past several minutes, forcefully dragging him from his slumber. It took his mind a couple second to catch up to his current situation. It had been hours since he had fallen asleep, apparently, now early afternoon instead of morning. He grabbed the distantly familiar device and struggled to remember his passcode, before figuring it out after a minute of trial and error.

His cell was full of messages from both Sam and Tucker throughout the day, asking him where he was. Danny noticed the messages seemed to get more worried as the day went on. It made sense that they’d be concerned. He had died yesterday, after all. He responded simply and truthfully, with the fact that he’d been allowed to stay home and had been asleep. Their responses were immediate, asking if he was okay and if they could come over.

At the thought of seeing Sam and Tucker, Danny froze. Jazz hadn’t picked up anything different with him, and Danny hadn’t really been acting his (mental) age, but it was possible that either of them could pick up the sudden change. Sam had always been an extremely critical person, and Tucker had known his for so long he new every last one of Danny’s quirks, which had drastically changed over the past seven years. He could be spotted immediately.

Danny could always just tell them. It would be better than lying and pretending, but he wasn’t sure if they’d believe him. They weren’t the same Sam and Tucker he knew, not really. These ones didn’t have the experiences his did. No ghost fights, no possessions, no time travel. They had yet to go through the rough experiences that would follow in the next two years. He wasn’t even sure if he should drag them into all of this ghost business again, but he knew them better than that. They already knew he was a ghost; he wouldn’t be able to stop them from at least helping out.

Danny sent a text back out to the two that he was still really tired and wanted to continue resting. He was fine. It was a lie, but it would be a small one. It was a lie to buy time. Danny went and dragged himself out of bed, and stretched out his hands, trying to get used to them again. The dissonance was still there, but nearly as bad as it had been that morning. It was worse when he overshadowed someone.

Danny’s desk wasn’t the absolute mess it always became during the school season, so it was pretty easy to find a composition book that had been bought for the upcoming term. It gave it a nondescript title, ‘Future Plans.’ It took him hours, and his hand cramped up more often than not, probably from the nerve damage his ghost half had yet to fully repair, and not from no writing anything in years like his mind suppled, even if holding a pen felt foreign to him.

Danny wrote it all down, messily scribbled down in Esperanto. He jotted down everything he could remember, starting from his accident and continuing on over the years, but mostly just until he left. He wrote down what he felt were the causes of certain things in retrospect, and some events he hadn’t known about until long after they happened. He didn’t want to forget anything, or struggle to recall anything in the heat of the moment. If he could stop the worst of it all from happening, then he would consider it a resounding victory.

Danny’s pen stopped in the middle of a phrase. He knew better than to meddle, didn’t he? He had messed with the past before and he knew exactly where they would get him. He wanted things to change, all of the stuff from this point forward, other than certain things he needed to happen, he wanted to alter, but should he?

Danny set the pen down and tried to rub the pain out of his hand, only cramping it further. He let out a low groan. If his parents weren’t in the lab, he could’ve tried to get to Clockwork. He had to know about what was going on and could even be the reason Danny had ‘Returned to Go’ in the first place. But with the portal being newly opened, his parents would be holed up in there for the next week, just like last time.

That brought it into question on if he could even handle the Ghost Zone at this point. He had no control over his own powers, and his core was underdeveloped. It would probably help him stabilize to be in such an ectoplasm-saturated environment, but people would notice is he was gone, especially if he didn’t have anyone to cover for him. No, he couldn’t go to the Long Now yet, but that didn’t write off going into the Ghost Zone in general.

Danny went back to writing, finishing up what had to be the story of what had been the first two years of his life as a ghost in messy, Esperanto-shorthand. It was completely indecipherable to anyone else. Perfect. Danny flipped the book to the back, then upside down, and began again. This time, constantly referencing what he had already written in the first three-quarters of the notebook, Danny started making plans to counter the big bad events and possibly turn things in his favor, sorting events into preventable, unpreventable, and need-to-happen. This time, he had the advantage of information and experience, something he sorely lacked the first time around. He needed to make sure he put them both to good use, both to make some of his battles easier, and to possibly prevent them altogether. He had about a month before the first thing he wanted to change occurred, so that was what he dedicated most of his time to, ironing out all the details he could. It would be great if he could pull this off without getting slammed through a few walls.

Danny had about a month before the larger ghosts started coming through, and about two weeks before the smaller ones learned of the portal’s existence. He had a few good weeks to get his powers under control, now that he knew what he should be capable of. Danny wondered if he could change the time frame and get stronger faster. He would need to be stronger, and more cautious than before.

Danny had a month before Sam inevitably decided to change the school’s menu, and the Lunch Lady appeared in retaliation. He just hoped he would be ready in time.

#danny phantom #ectoberhaunt22 #eh order #day 24 #past #goodfish writes #phantom planet is an interesting problem to work around if used #this is the last thing I'm doing for ectoberhaunt22 was nice knowing ya #i spat this out so hard and fast i need more caffine #cw violence #character death #time travel fix-it #don't see a lot of those for dp imo #lets fix that

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biolizardboils · 2 years

Text

Crumpled Up Pages: Old Captain Underpants WIPs #5-9

🎵So they’re FINALLY HERE, performing for YOU🎵—

It’s been a while, huh? I won’t waste as much space above the readmore this time. All the ground rules from the first post still apply, so go read them again if you need to—I know I did!

Again, most of these WIPs deal with the twelfth and final book in some way. If you haven’t read it, this post won’t make a single lick of sense. Any summarizing I do will be very sparse, cus this thing’s already super long. Seriously, just go read it (and the rest of the series, too)!

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So how about that Book 12, huh? In many ways, it’s a fitting finale for the whole series. It talks more explicitly about ADHD than ever, gives a glimpse of George and Harold’s future, segues into Dog Man, and doesn’t end with the usual “here we go again”. Not to mention, after years as just a running gag, the villain is the gym teacher.

Like, yeah, it’s pretty decidedly the final book. And it seems the general consensus is that it satisfies that role in all aspects… except for one.

George and Harold get a happy ending—two, in fact—but a certain superhero does not. In fact, he barely gets an ending at all.

Now, he was never truly the series’ main character, and the book gets very busy tackling a more serious subject. With those facts in mind, such an oversight is forgivable. Personally, I can forgive it. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell to see.

The book just… declares him “dead” posthumously. It’s just... you know what, screw the formalities: I adore the Captain and I miss him and I wish he'd had a better sendoff.

I’d been warned, but reading Book 12 was still very bittersweet for me. In mid-to-late 2017, when I wanted to get at least one fanfic out, I wrote down some ideas to express that pain. Casual cruelty to neurodivergent kids was a daunting subject, so I mostly focused on the Captain’s “death”. I started thinking: how could I make his last moments more meaningful without contradicting canon, or downplaying what makes the rest of the book so important?

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WIP #5: Sendoff (aka Chapter 33 1/2)

Soon they knew everything, from the chemical makeup of their arch-enemy to the events that lead to the destruction of Smart Earth... to the presence of one more consciousness among their combined particles. [Book!Verse, Book 12. CW: Major character death.]

This was by far the hardest WIP to summarize. I remember how it goes pretty well, but its concept is really tough to put into words… which, uh, might explain why I gave up on it 5 years ago. Welp, here goes nothing.

So after showing that snapping doesn’t affect Krupp anymore, the book offers two explanations: “Perhaps it was the electromagnetic pulse [when Sir Stinks-A-Lot blew up] that erased the hypnotic spell from Mr. Krupp's brain. Or maybe it happened during the Super-Power-Juice-ectomy.” This fic runs with the second option: basically when Sir Stinks-A-Lot absorbed Captain’s powers from Krupp’s body, he absorbed Captain himself as well.

After sending their distress signal, Old!George and Harold realize he’s there and talk with him telepathically. (I noted here that George should mostly use words, and Harold mostly pictures. Captain would’ve used both, crudely at first, but improving as the conversation went on.)

The following exchange of thoughts took place for only a millisecond. For its participants, however, it was as if time itself had stopped so they could speak once more.

[...] He knew they were adults, and yet they appeared in his mind’s eye as the children he’d come to know.

The dialogue would’ve opened with Captain feeling very conflicted. Since Stinks-A-Lot and the Old!Boys could access each other’s memories and intelligence while merged, it would stand to reason that Captain could, too.

You can probably see where I was going with this.

I imagined that learning the truth instantly, and in a way that he can’t possibly misunderstand or deny, would hit Captain hard. Unfortunately, I barely wrote any dialogue for this fic, and none of it was for this segment. This is the third time I’ve had to say “oops, 2017!me didn’t write this part,” but this is the one I’m kicking myself the hardest for.

So, while I can’t say what I had in mind back then, I can at least describe how I’d write it out today. I think… I think Captain would try to apologize for all the ways Krupp hurt the Boys as kids. Then the Boys would assure him that Krupp’s actions weren’t his, that they don’t hold them against him, and apologize for never telling him the truth. Captain would admit that he probably wouldn’t have believed them. After some more back-and-forth, he’d conclude that as much as it hurt to learn he isn’t “real”, he was grateful it had never kept him from making a real difference.

Eventually the Hamsterdactyls appear on the horizon. George explains what’s about to happen, and Captain realizes what it means for him.

“Don’t worry. The explosion will send all the Zygo-Gogozizzle 24 back into space, but the elements that make up our original bodies should stay behind and reconstitute. At least, that’s what I’m gathering.”

His body had ran away screaming. What would happen to him when...?

This is where, I imagine, the three would’ve said their goodbyes.

Cheff Goal-d’ BLOOOM!

Sir Stinks-A-Lot explodes, and Captain’s mind ends up in the Super-Power-Juice-soaked Zygo-Gogozizzle 24 that gets launched into space. As it solidifies back into rock form, he finds himself watching the Earth grow smaller and smaller.

But the rock starts to crack from the force of the blast, and his vision flickers as it falls apart. He accepts that this is it and decides that, after fighting so hard to ensure the world could sleep peacefully, he’s ready to enjoy some sleep himself.

So he slept, as the remains of Smart Earth splintered into millions of glowing fragments, glittering stars to remain forever in the night sky.

This is the only WIP where I thought ahead and wrote the final sentence, and I’m honestly still proud of it. Because I loved quoting Superman and passing it off as hypotext, it’s a near word-for-word reference to the original radio show’s first episode. The original line is about Krypton exploding, which makes for a nice allusion to both Underpantyworld and Smart Earth. It also just felt poetic to pair Superman’s beginning with Captain’s end.

I cared a lot about adhering closely to canon, but I did notice a continuity error while skimming Book 12 for this post: on the same page as the Krupp-snapping thing, Old!George says he has “no idea how [it] happened.” Maybe I just ignored that at the time, but now I’m imagining him lying so their younger selves wouldn’t be too sad, and now I’m sad. Well, sadder than I already was from typing all this. Oh God, there's still 5 WIPs to go.

So some of these documents have a “Mood Reference” segment at the bottom, where I pasted links to songs with the tone or atmosphere I was aiming for. I often forgot to label those links. So you can imagine the whiplash I felt when I found one in this fic, clicked on it, and heard this. I vaguely remember hearing it for the first time in mid-2017, and thinking of it when I first read Book 12. Sir Stinks-A-Lot threatened to wipe out the concept of childhood itself; in a series about celebrating the adult-offending things that make childhood great, that basically is the end of the world. Him blowing up brought to mind the song's explosive bass drop. And the vocals breaking down until it flatlines… yeah. I never shook off the resulting mental correlation, and I later chose a cover of it to represent this book’s events in Usually Responsible.

Sendoff was always a placeholder title, and I had some better ones lined up: Whatever Happened to the Waistband Warrior?, O Captain, Our Captain, and Up, Up, and Away. If I had to pick one today, it’d be the last one: it's short, it relies the least on hypotext, and it foreshadows where Captain ends up going.

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WIP #6: Untitled Rid-O-Kid One-shot

And together, the two friends wrote and drew and laughed all afternoon.

They didn’t notice how nauseous they were until dinnertime. [Book!Verse, post-Book 12. CW: discussion of overmedicating children.]

You know the part where the Boys’ parents say they like how they’re acting under Rid-O-Kid? The last four books all have their sad moments, but god, this one just hit different. They had no clue their sons were drugged, though, and I liked to think they’re genuinely good parents who would make up for it if they found out. Thus, this fic about them finding out.

This one never got further than a summary, some scattered notes, and a list of Ritalin withdrawal symptoms. I remember some details I never wrote down, too, so I’ll combine them all to paint a fuller picture.

This fic starts immediately after Book 12. The Boys go home for dinner, but realize they can't finish their food. Then they get bad headaches, and their parents get worried, give them the classic childhood check-up, and tuck them in early.

The parents call each other and make plans to ask other parents if a bug's going around. One of them sees the Rid-O-Kid ad on TV (the local network was slow to take them down idk). Meanwhile, the Boys whisper through Walkie Talkies and realize how blurry their memories are of yesterday—specifically after seeing Mr. Meaner in his office.

The next morning, the parents learn the truth from their friend circles and the local news: every kid at Jerome Horwitz is going through withdrawal after getting dosed with an untested drug. Along with them dealing with that bombshell, this segment would have expanded on the incident's aftermath: Mr. Meaner is in jail again, Mr. Krupp has fired him (possibly just to avoid bad press), and the school is closed until its whole student body recovers.

One of the families they call is the Sneedlys. Melvin's parents mention that he's shaken from being used as a guinea pig by a teacher after sucking up to them so much. They also suggest that the withdrawal might hit neurodivergent kids the hardest. This prompts Mr. Beard to dig up the ADHD book he'd read to the Boys years ago.

The Boys themselves wake up very late and very groggy. After breakfast, one family invites the other over for a meeting. There, the parents share what they’ve learned, apologize to their sons for not noticing, and ask what being on Rid-O-Kid had felt like.

The Boys admit that they’d felt a drive to compensate for all the little ways they’d disappointed their parents before, like forgetting chores and wandering off when they talk. Voicing it makes them cry, and hearing it breaks their parents’ hearts. They comfort their sons, assuring them that they’d rather keep those little disappointments than force something like Rid-O-Kid on them.

All three parents call in sick to their jobs, hit the store for bubblegum and cooking supplies, and spend the afternoon baking chocolate chip cookies with their kids. :)

Nothing else to say about this one, except that I mentioned its basic plot in this post.

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WIP #7: Coda

In which George and Harold realize they forgot to say ‘thank you’. [Book!Verse, post-Book 12.]

This one takes place a little bit after Untitled Rid-O-Kid Oneshot. The Yesterday!Boys have recovered enough to keep working on their Dog Man reboot. They discuss their fuzzy memories again, and wonder if their doubles and pets vanishing might be connected.

They make a safe bet that their doubles had gotten Captain to help fix things, and make a note to ask him what happened (and also thank him) when school reopens. One of them suggests going to Krupp’s house and asking him now, and the other says to remind him after they work a little more.

Cut to Monday afternoon. The first full school day since the events of Book 12 has just ended, and the Boys are selling Dog Man #1 on the playground. It’s an instant hit, but a few kids ask about their Captain Underpants series; the last issue ended on a cliffhanger, and they want to know if their hero made it out okay. *wink wink*

The Boys realize they’d hyperfixated so hard that they’d forgotten to see Captain, so they close up shop and run to the principal’s office. They find Krupp reading some resumes and snap their fingers.

I never wrote the dialogue here, but the Boys give a long spiel that’s all “sorry for not checking in with you sooner” and “thank you for saving the day without us” and “have you seen Tony, Orlando, and Dawn?”

They don’t notice Krupp trying to butt in and clutching his head until he suddenly screams at them to shut up. It’s so loud even for him that Ms. Anthrope comes in to see what’s going on.

The Boys snap again, but he just gets angrier; he’s had a constant headache for days now, and their snapping and nonsense talk are making it worse. Any other day he’d gladly trap them here for a stern talking-to, but now he begs them to leave and let him get back to finding a new gym teacher.

The shock of hearing him beg gives the Boys pause. They look him over—no goofy smile, no puffed-out chest—but they still don’t quite believe what they see. Harold breaks the silence with a whisper:

“Captain…?”

But that whisper pounds at Krupp’s skull, and he orders Ms. Anthrope to get them out of his office. They snap even more as she drags them away, but he covers his ears until they’re gone.

Outside, the Boys' denial finally runs out. They tear up at the thought that whatever Captain had done to save the day, he had laid down his life to do so. They salute to him at the office door before walking out of the school. Some kids ask them what’s wrong on the way out; they keep walking, suddenly hyper-aware that they have no one to confide their grief to but each other.

After enjoying the peace and quiet for a while, Krupp thinks about the name Harold called him. The fic ends with him opening his drawer to stare at the Captain Underpants comics inside.

The Mood Ref section for this one contains two songs: Separation Anxiety from the movie, and… this. Like, wow, 2017!me was going through it. (If it helps at all, I just imagined Mr. Meaner in Scar’s place and chuckled. …Yeah, that probably doesn’t help.)

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WIP #8: Letter Column

20 years later, George and Harold still deny everything… even if it hurts. [Book!Verse, pre- or post-Book 12.]

This one was gonna be a Log Fic, made of mock-up screenshots from various sources. The setup is that Old!George and Old!Harold have an official website like Dav’s, including a page dedicated to fanmail. Kids send in questions (with their parents’ permission), and the Old!Boys post their answers for all to see.

The fic would’ve opened with a screenshot of this page, with two Q&A’s visible to show how it works. The next screenshot would be of a third question waiting in the Boys’ inbox:

So I notised this one guy shows up in crowds a lot. I checked every Dog Man book I own and hes in every single one! Whats up with that?

– Curie Yuss, age 10

Attached to the email are close-up photos of different Dog Man pages (drawn anime-style like the one shown in Book 12). Each page has a crowd shot, and a bald man in underwear and a red cape can be seen in each crowd.

Cut to a series of texts between the Old!Boys. Harold opens with a screencap of the email.

H: oh man

H: i REALLY shuldve seen this coming

G: Its okay dude

H: u were right one in each book was too many

G: Calm down its okay! I can take this one solo if you want, Ill draft it tonight

G: [a few hours later] Done! If you like it go ahead and press publish

H: its up now. thx dude

G: 👍🏾 I get why youre worried but hey, its not like we have to lie

George’s response is then shown on the site:

Dear Curie,

I see you’ve spotted Captain Underpants! Harold and I came up with him when we were your age. He thought it would be funny to sneak him into every Dog Man book, and so did I!

Thanks for writing in!

– George Beard

And that's the end of it… until it isn’t. A few weeks later, six new emails sit in the inbox, all asking the Boys if they’ll ever make a Captain Underpants novel.

Now they’re both worried. If they say no and don’t give a reason why, more kids might write in to ask. If they say “maybe someday,” they’d be setting up false expectations. On top of that, they’re upset at themselves for getting worked up over kids asking an innocent question.

G: We probably shouldve put a ToS on the page before we launched it

G: Like “we reserve the right to leave your fanmail unanswered for any reason”

H: yeah we probably shuldve

G: Its too late to add one now right?

H: oh for sure. some kid will def notice. i know we wuld

Then a new email comes in from one Perry Graff and his mom, Artie. She’d gone to Jerome Horwitz with the Boys, and seeing Curie’s Q&A had jogged her memory. She’d dug her old CU comics out of her attic to share with her son, and strangely, one of them had seemingly been signed by the Captain himself. Artie admits to remembering having met a very real Captain Underpants, and asks the Boys how on earth they’d pulled that off.

Attached is a photo of the signature. The cursive lettering is too thin to have been stamped on, and too neat to have been forged by a kid.

If the Boys felt cornered before, now they’re mortified.

H: u know what

G: Trying to think

G: Oh god Lisa just asked what im looking angry at my phone for

H: maybe we shuldve ignored Curie

G: ??And just leave her hanging?

H: better 1 kid than 7

H: also we never heard back from weird Al and we came out just fine

G: We checked the mailbox for like a month!

H: yeah but we moved on. we figured it got lost in the mail or he was too busy or smthn. and then we forgot about it

H: …..why cant we move on from him george

G: Al??

G: Oh

H: why is this still so hard

G: I dont know man. I just dont know

…And that’s as far as I got. I couldn’t come up with an ending—or at least, one that didn’t leave me mad at the Boys—which might be why I scrapped it. Well, besides the whole “designing a fake website” thing. I never started the designing part, but I did leave screenshots of Pilkey.com in the doc for inspo (specifically from the mid-2000’s cus that was the site’s golden age, don’t @ me).

I love George and Harold so much, but I also think they should feel bad for, you know, making an entire person and hiding his existence. Yes, they were 9, and no, I didn’t quite expect Dav to touch on it. Still, it’s interesting to imagine the guilt they might deal with when they grow up and think back on it all.

Trivia time! The Log Fic format stems from an event I almost did at @treehouseblogsinc. The plan was for some space-time shenanigans to change the blog into the Old!Boys’ modern-day site for a little while. It never happened cus I was scared of changing the HTML too much, and its days were numbered at that point anyway.

The main conflict draws from something Dav said happened early in his career. He would draw Captain at school visits, and kids would often ask him to make a full book about him (“Becoming a writer”, fourth paragraph).

Finally, Artie Graff is meant to be that one girl from that one song. I thought it’d be fun to show she got that autograph after all and use it for drama lol.

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WIP #9: Recall

One moment, Mr. Krupp finally had those two delinquents cornered. The next, he was having the strangest dream. [Either Verse, but borrows imagery from the Movie.]

Tired of all this talk about Captain’s “death”? Me too! Let’s dial it back and talk about his “birth” instead!

This fic was a first-person look at what went on in Krupp's head when he got hypnotized. It played out in four acts—the start of the trance, Chicken, Monkey, and Superhero—with the last one having the most Story Meat. (You'll see why I didn't just name it Captain in a bit.)

I remember researching how hypnosis works and what it feels like before starting on this. Most of the real-life “rules” don’t apply here, of course, but I took note of aspects that made sense anyway. For example, trance can help loosen up even the strictest, most habitual thought patterns, which is why it's used to stop smoking; maybe all the years of bitter adult-ing and principal-ing melted away, allowing Krupp to look further inside himself than he had in ages. And maybe he just welcomed an excuse to take a nap during a workday lmao

That research also inspired me to experiment with this fic’s “voice”. Nearly every sentence in here is short, simple, and has a whole paragraph space to itself, as if that’s all the thought Krupp can muster at a time. The sentences get longer near the end, but take on a strange, lilting flow and break into new paragraphs where commas should be.

But enough explaining, let’s get to the actual text already. Act 1 was fleshed out a surprising amount, but given the format, that's not saying much.

I can’t move.

Correction: I can move if I want to. I just… don’t.

I can think of some good reasons to move.

My office’s linoleum flooring is nipping at my back, for instance.

I’m pretty sure my toupee’s fallen off again, too.

But everything is so heavy, and deciding which need to address makes me realize something.

My mind is so… quiet. I forgot it could be this quiet.

I can think… I think. I still have a few thoughts. They're just not pouring in constantly and bouncing off the walls of my skull anymore.

It’s like those walls are lined with cotton. It’s… weird, but not uncomfortable.

… I could get used to this, actually.

Not right now, though. I’ve got paperwork to sort, kids to keep in line.

For ten straight hours… for the next five days.

…A few more minutes here couldn’t hurt.

Captain is associated with cotton, so its mention here was probably intentional. Anyway, this segment ends with two bullet points that just say “SNAP Chicken” and “SNAP Monkey”. Those two Acts never got written (Library of Alexandria-scale loss, I know), but here’s a bit about them from what I think was an early summary:

The night after he gives the tape to Mr. Meaner, Krupp has a very strange dream. First he's a chicken in a coop, plucking at an oddly-shaped pile of grain. Then he's a monkey, swinging on branches that glow and throwing strange white leaves.

Then, all of a sudden, he's a child again.

Surprise—we're in Kernel Theory territory.

Krupp is about 10, lying on a red towel, looking up at some trees and an overcast sky. Something flat lies on his chest; he holds it up and sees that it's a comic book. The cover is blurry, like a half-forgotten impression. All he remembers is that he desperately wants to keep it.

There’s a note here to leave it unclear if this is a memory or just a dream. Either way, Krupp’s thoughts on it might be my favorite excerpt out of all 10 documents:

I squeeze it to my chest and the paper crinkles in my ears.

I don't want to lose it.

I don't want to lose this.

I’m going to lose this.

I won't even remember what it is I've lost.

After a long moment, he loosens his grip on the comic… only for a sudden gust to send it flying. He grabs his towel and gives chase, down a hill and past his childhood home. When he catches it, he feels the wind still tugging at it.

He looks up and sees the source of the wind: a wormhole floating at his height a few feet in front of him. Its rim “glows a searing red [...] swirling endlessly into the deep blue void within.”

Somehow, Kid!Krupp knows where it leads. Somehow, he knows he’s been “stuck” here for decades, and that this wormhole will set him free.

Somehow, he knows it won’t be open for long.

When it closes… I’ll be stuck here again.

All the everything will rush back in and bury me, like nothing happened.

Not this time.

Not while I still have this.

Benny holds his comic up to the wormhole. Its pages fly out one-by-one and form a barrier around the wormhole’s rim, as if holding it open for him.

He looks back at his home, as if for the last time. Then he ties the towel around his neck and charges into the wormhole.

It closes behind him, and the pages start swirling around his floating form. He feels himself change both physically and mentally; he realizes he can choose what to “take with him,” and decides that the “this” he’s reclaimed is all he wants for now. A powerful sense of valiance sweeps away everything else, leaving him unburdened and unbelievably happy.

The void starts to dissolve, beams of sunlight pouring through. He recalls a song about letting the sun shine in, facing it with a grin.

Smilers never lose and frowners never win.

But frowners still want to win

even long after they forget how

and now that I remember

I’ll protect smilers from frowners

until the frowners remember too

and the world is safe and happy.

The outline ends just as he perceives a floor beneath his feet and a battle cry in his throat.

How happy they’ll all be

to know they're being protected

by the greatest superhero of all time.

Man.

There’s a crossed-out bullet point down here about why Kid!Krupp feels “stuck” and is so eager to leave the dream-memory. I won’t go into what it says exactly, and I think leaving it ambiguous instead was a good call. I remember other creatives at the time positing that his Krupp-iness might stem from... well, let’s just say it’s a topic I don’t trust myself to explore at length, even now. This way it can be whatever the reader’s most comfortable with attributing it to.

In the same vein, I hoped to find a note here explaining what his precious “this” was, but there isn’t any. I dunno if I deleted it or just never wrote it down, but maybe not spelling it out is better. If I had to guess, though, I think I was drawing from the Great “woah, I used to love these books!” Movement earlier that year. Sorry to bring it up again, but I can’t overstate how it helped me regain my personal “this”; something nameless that I’d lost growing up, but was drifting aimlessly without.

Recall’s Mood Ref section also has two songs: the first was Interlude by Dunderpatrullen. Words fail me here too, but I put it on SIDE A: The Warden to mark the playlist’s shift from Krupp’s life before Captain to after.

The second song was this. Hardee har har, 2017!me.

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So what’s this WIP based on Book 1 doing among all this talk of Book 12? Well, I tried to expand on the Baby Benny idea with my next and final WIP...

...which I’ll go into in its own post. I know, I know, listen—I’ve been writing all this up in a Google Doc, and WIP #10 alone takes up one-third of it. I REALLY don’t wanna put it off, especially cus it’s nearly finished, but this is already the longest post I’ve probably ever written and I’m scared of invoking this hellsite’s glitchy wrath.

Now, WIP #10 isn’t taking longer because it’s finished or anything—it’s probably the least finished out of all 10, actually—so please curb your enthusiasm there. I just have a lot more to say about it because, unlike the others, it wasn’t a fanfic. It was meant to be something a little...bigger. I’ll leave its description here so you can guess what that means. See you in Part 3!

They created the greatest superhero in the history of their elementary school… but that was all in the past future!

Time travelers George and Harold make a pit stop in 1950-something, a peculiar time when strangers filled your gas tank for you and every band sounded like The Beach Boys. They don’t plan on staying very long, but that changes when they meet a kid who’s familiar and different all at once. Can they safely leave the past without preventing the future? And how will their new friend change how they view their greatest enemy...?

Have you read your UNDERPANTS today? [Book!Verse, post-Book 12.]

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