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starburts-addict · 11 months

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Aftermath

Note: I did my own aftermath version of the Shiny Jr fic. Some details were heavily inspired by Qeirxing's fic. Because I really did like how some things played out in their fic, but mine has noticeable differences. This work isn't 100% original fanfiction material, but it was just a fun thing I decided to write. Also it isn't 100% proofread.

CW: graphic recollection of choking, paranoia, PTSD-like symptoms,, obsessive behavior, threats (on the reader's side), unhealthy coping mechanisms

How long has it been? How long has it been since you arrived at what was supposed to be a wonderful and bittersweet experience? You don't know, nor do you care. Being stuck in such a cursed place that used to be your escape from reality was terrifying. Hell, you may have physically recovered from the multitude of attacks that day, but you haven't been the same. Constantly lacking sleep due to nightmares and you being paranoid if anyone who had the balls to break into your 'home away from home' would do so. You couldn't even call it your home away from home. It felt more like a prison you decided to isolate yourself in as Grim comes and goes as he pleases. You don't get mad at him for staying indifferent to what had happened. After all, he knew what these guys were like before your arrival in this game world.

Things were okay. You just had to stay inside, make sure you only go outside at certain times to get fresh air, and remove any social apps from your phone. That includes deleting any accounts it came with. It was just Magicam, you wished you could delete the calling and messaging in your phone, but all you could do was block any calls and texts that weren't from the teachers and faculty. Honestly, it was just the Teachers and Sam. You had half a mind to block Crowley as sometimes he would call you to start attending classes with Grim. Saying that the students have been rowdier with each other. Whatever that meant.

Grim still hung out with Ace and Deuce like normal, but ever since that attack, he's been more annoyed towards them. Fucking! Not just them! He's been annoyed at the entirety of the main cast!

Not only have they been badgering him with questions about your status, but they have been sending him home with stuff for the both of you. And most uncanny of all of this, they've been nicer to grim. Which, honestly? Has been very disturbing to him. Grim was so used to the hostility he's seen that seeing their desperate and futile attempts to get you to forgive them was terrifying.

Crewel, Trein, and Sam have the major staff who have come to visit you. Vargas was too busy making sure none of the boys could come to impose on your privacy. Crewel and Trein would sometimes tell you how holing yourself in the ramshackle dorm, but you reminded them that you aren't in a world that you don't belong in and have consequently received a trauma that you should have never gotten in the first place. Sam sometimes had to mediate when things almost turned into an argument. The three of you end up apologizing to each other. The only people you would ever apologize to in this game. Crowley would sometimes come visit and even try to demand you start attending classes. Saying he just wanted things to be less hostile between the students. Every single, annoying time he did, you'd end up threatening him with your departure to the rival school, saying that they will most definitely be the better school to take care of you. You knew that was a lie. You were actually unsure if the main side cast of Royal Sword Academy were any less dangerous. If you do end up running away, you'd rather stay on the island with the NPC residents of Sage Town.

It has just been another day that you have lost track of. Grim had come back from classes just like every other day. It's not like they get weekends off, Maybe in the story, but not within the actual mechanisms of the game. Once again Grim is watching videos on the phone on the couch, and this time you watched along. Usually, you'd spend your time cleaning the rundown place or even talking to the ghosts about your life in your own world. Beyond the game. You missed a lot, but today you were bored. You didn't like having that phone from the game. It only has reminders that this isn't your world. You started to get bored with the videos. It was starting to get dark, and you were tired of having Trein and Crewel open every single library book for you and find you a way home. You were tired of waiting. So you decided that right now seemed like the right time to go to the library. You stood up and looked at Grim. "Grim, I'm going to the library, want to come with?" Grim looked at you surprised, as if you just told him something shocking, well, it might as well have been because ever since you got here you haven't really gotten beyond the Ramshackle dorm ever since that day.

"Are you sure? You avoided stepping out further than the back door." He was worried, which brought you comfort. Out of everyone in the game, you could trust Grim the most. After all, he saved you from an untimely death and apparently cleared up a misunderstanding. A deadly one. Thinking about it, you nodded at Grim and gave him a simper. "Of course. I need to help find a way home." Grim exhaled. "As your protector, I must go. Just in case you get uncomfortable." You petted him as you got up from the couch.

Walking out the front door, you hesitated to open it, but in the end, you ended up opening the door. Off in the distance towards the mailbox that seems to stand barely. You see the plethora of packages and letters they have sent you after you blocked all their numbers and had Vargas fend off anyone who dares enter. It wasn't like the headmaster would fully prevent them from coming to your doorstep. Once you made sure the coast was clear you walked towards the gate where the mailbox was. Curiosity filled you as you wanted to see what the letters held. Although you had a huge idea of what they held, which held you back. As you patted the mailbox sorta to praise it for standing like this, one of the letters fell down. You picked it up and noticed it was from Malleus. The one who almost killed you.

You wanted to rip apart, cut and leave it on the mailbox to show the others what you would start doing if they didn't quit sending you things and harassing Grim about you but against your wishes, you decided to open it up. Grim looked at you with a concerned look. "You don't have ta if you don't want to." You shook your head. "It's fine." You opened up the letter carefully, tearing the wax seal off first and then tearing the flap off. The contents disturbed you, to say the least. The letter was desperate as soon as you read the beginning. You looked at the back, and that was even more disturbing.

The back had started off as a continuation of the beginning, but when the letter was supposed to stop at one sentence of 'I'm Sorry', it continued. The sentence 'I'm Sorry' continued towards the page's bottom. You couldn't tell if it was a diary entry that he decided to mail or what. There were two things that you can deduct. Grim had severely underestimated their obsessive admiration for you, it was beyond that. There were hardly any words that could describe this beyond deplorable behavior. Without a second thought, Grim swatted the card from your hand and tossed it alongside the pile of cards and packages he made without you paying attention. Before you could do anything, he burned it all. "No more of that. Besides, you're on a mission! Don't get so distracted [First]!" Grim stated, marching his way to the library. You followed behind catching up to Grim. Feeling relieved that Grim still wanted to protect you.

Eventually, you both arrive at the Library. You were actually surprised to hear from Grim that the library is open all day and night, but you are in a game, so you ended up losing that surprise. You wandered the library trying to find a starting place to even think where you could start looking. Eventually, you and Grim decide to split up. Hoping that maybe one of us can find a good starting place. As you were walking on the other side of the library, you felt a pair of eyes on you. Your paranoia was kicking in, and bad. You tried so hard to ignore it, but your feelings from being chased came back and you turned around.

To your horror, it was Malleus. He was about to approach you and you just stared at him. You couldn't move. The feeling of your throat being squeezed and the feeling of blood trickling down your throat, the pressure of the nails, and the feeling of air under your feet as you dangle up in the air all come rushing back as you hold back the urge to hold your throat. You didn't want to insult the dragon prince and face his wrath again. It was quite terrifying the first time, it will be the second time.

You couldn't squeak out anything, you seemed like a deer in headlights, but when you were about to open your mouth, Malleus spoke."How have you been?" He uttered. He seemed to be walking on a minefield, making sure that what he does is correct to not set off anything. You wanted to sneer at him for even asking that stupid question. You wanted to respond by saying, you clearly weren't doing well if they haven't seen them in a long time, but you advised yourself against it. "Okay, I guess." Malleus clearly wanted to rebuttal but didn't. "Have you received our cards, me and the others have noticed you haven't gotten the mail every time we drop something off." You almost physically cringed when he brought that up. You remember the card of his you read and how truly disturbing it was, but you don't bring it up. "I don't really leave Ramshackle itself." You shrugged. "I just saw the letters today, I'll read them when I get back." You said. It was a lie, of course. Grim had burned everything to a crisp after seeing you look terrified again. You couldn't tell him that though, you don't know what would happen to Grim if he found out.

There was a pause of silence. Both of you glanced away from each other to avoid awkward staring. It was annoying to you how Malleus so far has been pretending as if he didn't almost kill you. That was until Malleus spoke. "I really want you to know how sorry we are for hurting you. How sorry I am for hurting you and causing physical pain." To you, he looked absolutely pathetic for even trying to apologize. You wanted to humiliate Malleus for almost killing you, but you held back. That would make you as bad as the main cast. "… Don't worry about it. Just drop it." You ended up insisting. The fae prince seemed saddened by your response but didn't say anything. After all, he isn't the type to beg from what you gathered from his character when you played the game in the comfort of your room.

More silence ensued, but instead of Malleus breaking the silence, you did. "What brings you to the library?" Malleus seemed surprised that you asked him something about him, even if it was to ask about the purpose of his arrival. Just for a second, he seemed a little too happy for your taste. "I'm here on club activities, I would like to see the architecture of the library." He sounded a little too desperate. That caused you suspicion, instead of egging on, you thought it was best if you didn't.

Then you heard more voices coming in through the library, they sounded loud. Well, at least one of them did. The other one tried to shush the loud voice. You knew who they were. It sounded exactly like Silver and Sebek. "It sounds as if Silver and Sebek are here, I'll leave." You bluntly stated. Before you could turn around, you heard loud footsteps coming closer and almost at a running speed and then you heard him. "MY LO-" Sebek had cut himself off as he saw you. You recoiled at his voice, which was the loudest thing in the library. Then Silver and Grim came along. You weren't as scared of Silver as you were of Sebek and Malleus, but you were terrified of him nonetheless. You took a small step back and Grim took the initiative to stand in front of you just in case.

You were surprised to see Sebek kneel in front of you. Before Silver could say anything to prevent him from saying anything, Sebek yelled his apology. "Player, please forgive me for my insolence! Punish me as you see fit!" Malleus was left stunned and Silver grabbed Sebek and pulled him up and covered his mouth. It seemed out of character to you, Silver isn't really the type to get physical unless he has to. Grim was stunned at Sebek, dumbfounded even. The sleepy knight turned to Malleus and tried to hold himself back from scolding his lord. "My Lord, please stop trying to run off like that. We're lucky that Sebek has a good eye and saw where you ran off to." Malleus cringed when he said that. You looked at Malleus suspiciously. "I thought you said you were here for club activities." Silver looked at you and Malleus, he seemed to have had the color of his face drained as he still held Sebek who sounded muffled and tried to shake Silver off. Malleus couldn't even look you in the eye and turned his head in shame.

Grim shook his head in disappointment. "You guys keep making things worse for yourselves." You looked at Grim and then at the three Diasomnia members before speaking. "We'll take our leave, let's go Grim." You walked off towards the end of the row of books to avoid going through the three men who tried to bring harm to you once. Grim followed behind you and three other men seemed like they wanted to protest your departure, but they walked in the opposite direction.

The way back to Ramshackle was quiet, but you were busy thinking about that interaction. Maybe it would be best if you visit the library later in the night whenever you want to do research.

#disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst #twst prefect #twst fanfic #yandere twisted wonderland #twst au

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theheirofthesharingan · 3 days

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Hi! I had a fic question and I don't know where to ask it? Feel free to ignore this if you'd like. But I was wondering if my fic would count as an AU if I had a konoha resident character living in a house, and the weather was snowing? I'm still new to naruto and I'm not perfectly acquainted with the different villages. It doesn't snow in konoha right so would that mean my canon character would need to be in the land of snow? I don't really have a reason to put them there. Would anyone read my fic if I wrote it snowed in konoha or nearby? Or should I label my fic as an AU?

Okay, I'm going to explain a little bit what AU/canon divergence/canon compliant fics are. So depending on that you can probably identify where your fic would fit better.

Alternate Universe (AU): The only things AUs are compelled to take from the source material are the names of the characters, and the rest you can decide on your own. You can keep the basic traits of the characters as it is or change them a little bit, because a character in canon went through the things to become what we know of them. In your AU it's not necessary. So, it would work either way.

Canon Divergence: You take the characters, their canon dynamic, and equations, the world as they are, without deviating from it, but change one major plot point and that consecutively changes their future from how things happened in canon.

For example, if Sasuke learns Itachi's truth before their battle - it would change everything that goes on in canon after Itachi's death. It Naruto isn't taken care of by Iruka, it would change everything with Naruto not being able to handle the hate he received from the village. If, upon Orochimaru's suggestion, the Ame orphans are killed, it would affect the entire future story of Naruto. Fics like this are canon divergent.

Canon Compliant: These fics don't contradict canon too much. There will be minor changes here and there, but unlike an AU or a canon divergent fic these fics take place within the restrains of the source material.

If you're writing a fic with modern setting, are the characters in your story also something other than ninja? Do Shinobi exist? If not, you can tag it as Modern AU. If yes, it could easily fall into canon divergent or canon compliant, depending on whatever you want to convey.

Personally, I take inspiration from not only manga, but also filler episode and novels. Manga doesn't say anything about snowing, but in the Itachi Shinden arc there's a scene with pregnant Mikoto where it starts snowing. I've used that to show it sometimes snows in Konoha.

Some briefing on the village and nation in Naruto.

There are Five Great Nations in Naruto - Land of Fire, Land of Water, Land of Lightning, Land of Wind, and Land of Earth. These lands were the defined by the chakra nature of the Shinobi... As explained by Kakashi

Naruto is set in the Feudal era of Japan in terms of its politics where these countries have a leader they call Daimyō. And all these countries have a powerful village.

Land of Fire has Konohagakure. Land of Water has Kirigakure. Land of Wind has Sunagakure. Land of Lightning has Kumogakure. Land of Earth has Iwagakure.

They have their respective leaders - Hokage, Mizukage, Kazekage, Tsuchikage, Raikage.

There is Land of Iron, but it's not run by the Shinobi forces but Samurai, and it's meant to be neutral. So no other nation can attack it. According to most maps, it lies to the north of Land of Fire.

There are some other villages/lands mentioned like Amegakure, which is situated in an unnamed nation. Land of Waves has no strong military, which is why they needed Konoha's help. There are mentions of the villages scattered here and there but they're insignificant. The major confict in the world happened because of the Five nations.

That's it about the villages (that I know of).

As to the readers not reading your work, I'll say readers are a lot gentler than you give them the credit for. To grab the readers' attention you need to write a proper summary, tag your posts properly, focus on your writing and give proper paragraph breaks. Include the characters in the story only if they are recurring characters. Don't clutter your 'character' and 'relationship' section or even tags. Keep things up that are relevant to you as a writer. I'm assuming you're going to write on AO3 and not on FFN or Wattpad.

We readers don't care about trivial things that are bothering you, although I can understand your feelings. If you can utilise the modern setting and make the readers feel, that would be a win. Don't shy away from taking creative liberties. Fics are meant to explore the uncharted aspects of canon. And writers do this all the time.

You did not ask for such a long answer but I couldn't stop from rambling. I hope this answer helped you and gave you what you were looking for. Good luck for your fic.

#writing #ao3 #ask #konoha

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ra-archives · 3 months

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Which Link is Caesar to be stabbed (with fake knives)? Who’s the chain ganging up on (for fun) and why?

First, happy Ides of March to you too <3 Secondly, I feel Twilight or Wars are Caesar. Wild, Hyrule, Wind and Four are totally planning everything. They are not subtle, Time hears everything and doesn't raise a finger to stop them because he finds it amusing. Sky does nothing as well, partly because he doesn't want to suddenly be the one thats stabbed, also its nice to see everyone having fun. Legend is pulled in when the stabbing gets started, and has a surprising amount of fun when he does. Between Twi and Wars, who ever isn't the one being stabbed is in the same boat as Legend.

TBH I have very little reasoning for that^ other than vibes. Mostly just Wild, Wind, Hyrule and Four give me mischievous little critter vibes. They always scheming. Four should get to do more nonsense. Only reason Time isn't involved is because he has to uphold his serious old man reputation. (That reputation is non existent. Everyone knowns he's mischievous and silly like the rest of him, Time is keeping this up for no one. He desperately wants to join them. Let the old man have fun)

Legend doesn't give me scheming vibes, just a tad to serious for that, but won't stop anyone else. Man is down for a little bit of chaotic fun though, so he joins in after. Sky is too quiet and collected to join in, but he'll watch with an eyeroll, and a slightly concerned but kind of entertained smile. Twilight and Wars are serious but also dramatic, so obviously perfect targets. They are both so dramatic when attacked, and chaotic enough to join the murder group when not being targeted.

Thirdly, I like to imagine that outside the Ides of March, everyone gangs up on eachother at any opportune moment.

Like, if anyone says something silly or trips over their own feet, everyone immediately starts ripping on them. There are a couple of constants, Wild and Hyrule aren't allowed opinions on what tastes edible, the most common reply to anything Time says is 'Uh huh, whatever you say gramps', and Wind is dragged for pretty much anything he says because he's the youngest, etc. But that doesn't mean the others are safe. You can pretty much guaranty that if it isn't serious (about battles, past quests and trauma, genuine heart to hearts) someone is going to jab at whoever said it.

Its a lot like big friend groups or close teams. Constantly making fun of eachother, but in that way that good friends do where you know its all from a place of love. If you don't lovingly drag someone through the mud for every single thing they say, are you really besties?

TBH maybe I should write a sillier fic. Their light hearted dynamics seem so fun to explore but everyone's always dying in my stuff so there's never time :') Maybe I'll actually keep writing 'The Years Bring Change' and throw it in there.

Well, this is longer than I meant it to be and not well though out cause I'm tired, but oh well. Gotta love rambles, lists and extra context!

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu chain #I am NOT listing all of them #the ides of march #I am sorry for the paragraphs of texts but not sorry enough to shorten them #rhys rambles #happy ides everyone #Still think its so funny that thats a holiday on here

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sofipitch · 2 years

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I've thought a lot about how to try and phrase this post or even write it because I have talked about this a million different times and seems to have no impact I wonder if it even matters but incase anyone needed evidence of racism in the VC fandom, @sweetazathioprine and I started getting racist trolls the momment we started posting our fanfic The Long Way Home, and it has continued nonstop and I recently posted a fic featureing the AMC universe/timeline whatever you want to call it and it has simply escalated. And it's not just myself who has recieved this, since I know there are enough ppl that hate me or even my cowriter who are willing to say we deserve it but @vivienne1996 also began uploading fic for the AMC show and had to turn off both anon on her tumblr and comments on her fanfictions all together because of all the racist abuse she was reciving. On my fics I delete a lot of it because it contains slurs that would upset someone else who might look at the comments but I have screenshotted them and present them now as evidence that yes the VC fandom has massive racism issue

This isn't by far all of them, tumblr simply has a 10 image limit. I also chose ones featuring a slur since some people can only recognize bigotry when a slur is thrown around. I also get some kind of insult telling me they hope I die or that my writing is terrible. I don't pretend to think I am a good writer or that I'm the only person in this fandom recieving insults but the inceseant insults aren't on any of the fic I wrote before Jacob Anderson's casting announcement.

And again this isn't just me who is recieving this so take what I have gotten and imagine what the others arr getting.

This isn't isolated to just racism either, rampant transphobia has been present. I'm aware in the past fics or art depicting the characters are trans has recieved hate and @hedonisticgene has also been recieving insults based on added diversity to the VC characters. Really showing yall are only here for cis white characters.

My point in highlighting this isn't to make anyone feel bad for me but to showcase that this has been an ongoing problem and I got possibly the record for the most amount of troll comments to word count ratio on my AMC fic. And I worry for the countless number of new people joining, being happy and excited, and then getting these kinds of comments when they go to post fanfic. It's frankly just disgusting and this is what I meant when I first said ppl disliking the race change would lead to racism. And I feel like overall the VC fandom and especially those with a lot of following and big platforms to speak up and condemn this shit have simply remained silent, or been covertly supporting this shit by saying they are the ones being attacked.

I wish I had something more articulate to say but really I feel any kind of intelligent comment stifled by anger. I just feel massively disappointed and let down

#feally debating having reblogs on #i might turn them off later #but i'm not even sure i can handle good natured ones right now i'm so insanely mad #and i know some of you have stood firm on this since the beginning and actually have a backbone and i'm proud of you #and i can't tell you how much it means to me to not feel like 1 of 2 ppl talking about this #if it weren't for the amc show i really think i would have left by now #which is why i want to say something because others deserve better than to be greeted by this #vc #vampire chronicles #iwtv #interview with the vampire #amc iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #*really debating #alright gonna take a cbd and go to bed and potentially log off

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famina · 6 months

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I would like to ask about your characters, if you don't mind. I do have a few questions that you, the creator, or the characters themselves can answer. And as a side note, "the characters" will refer to all of your ocs that you have been answering for.

What kind of physical contact are the characters comfortable with? (Hugging, hand holding, etc)

Will there be any context or stories given about the characters and their backgrounds/history? And will we learn about their families?

How far are the characters willing to go in order to get food? (Stealing, fighting, etc.) For more of a clear idea about this, it had probably been during the times where the characters would go for longer than what is normal for them to go without eating. How would they be willing to handle the situation when their hunger is so bad? (This is NOT meant for any inappropriate ideas/responses, please be aware of that)

Ouuh ! Oki ! This will be a long one ! And don't worry, I'll keep this all PG.

1- What kind of physical contact they like:

Vexed : He doesn't really love any form of contact. He's not use to it and also not the cleanest so he'd feel embarrased by it.

Wither : He loves hugs but kisses are a bit much.

Natam : He's also a hugger but since poeple are usually disgusted by him he's a bit shy around poeple. He doean't want to bother anyone.

Vulphy : He'd hate any close contact like any wild animal would.

Timothy : He's not against highfives and casual contacts. But intimate contacts are reserved for those special someone.

Vigilante : He's the type to jump when you touch him. But he's not against contact such as handholding or the occasional hug if you need it.

Ernest : He's cool with whatever ! Kisses, hugs, the whole thing.

Yomi : Nope. Just nope.

Irakus : He was raised as a gentlemen so he won't initiate the contact (Except maybe hand holding) but he is not opposed to it.

2 - I really want to. I've written some script for a backstory of Irakus and others. But I can't make them into (Y/N) fics so it feels like it would be just for me. So I end up giving up on them ^^

3- How far are they willing to go :

Irakus : Not really far. He doesn't want to bother human, so he prefers to starve himself rather than bother anyone.

Vigilante : He would never steal or attack so the worst he'd do would be beg.

Timothy : He would not hurt anyone but he could go pretty far for a meal which is worrisome.

Yomi : He would stop at nothing for food. Kill, steal, trick, anything but giving something in exchange that isn't money or your life.

Vulphy : He is a scardycat so he would threaten poeple for food but wouldn't hurt them.

Ernest : He's a true passifist so he'd beg on his knees and look really pathétique but wouldn't steal or hurt annyone.

Vexed : He would steal and might push and shove poeple but not hurt them badly.

Wither : He can't hurt anyone. He could steal but while no one sees him.

Natam : The worst he could do is reach out and grab passerby pop corn.

I hope that answers your questions.

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crinkled-emotions · 1 year

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Ooh, is it possible to ask for no appetite, not themselves anymore for Rooster please? Only if you're not too busy though. Thank you!

Sure thing! Heads up; this isn't going to be a light fic, and it takes place after the Dagger mission. Please heed the warnings!

I just want to make it really clear that this fic will mention food and panic attacks, so if you feel like either of those topics may be triggering, this is not for you. It is at your discretion that you choose to read this fic.

Rooster’s headspace is not in a good place, like at all. This is messy and complicated and he gets angry but he is not destructive toward himself, anyone else or property. Please take care of yourselves.

Warnings: anxiety/ hints toward PTSD, hints of disordered eating or unhealthy eating habits, Rooster is not in a good place and continues to lash out at Maverick. Insomnia, unhealthy ways of coping with insomnia (sex).

"Mav, do you have a second?”

“For you, Phoenix? You can have three.”

Maverick closed the file he’d been working on, tossing it to the side and gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. Phoenix sat and rested her elbows on the edge of the desk, sighing as she buried her head in her hands.

“I wouldn’t be coming to you, breaking his trust, if I didn’t think it was serious.”

Maverick frowned, leaning forward.

“Talk to me, Natasha. What’s wrong?”

“It’s Bradley. He’s... different. Subdued, withdrawn. Quiet.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just- I don’t know how to describe it. He’s still Bradley but he’s not... Bradley.”

Maverick watched her sniff, and then swipe at her eyes.

“Tash?”

“I’m really worried about him, Mav, something’s really wrong and I don’t know how to help him.”

Maverick rounded his desk, coming over to kneel by her chair.

“The best thing you can do for him is to be there for him, which I have no doubt you have been. You are one of the only people who can get through whatever walls he’s put up, and he knows that. Have you asked him what’s going on?”

“He just says he’s tired, but Mav- it’s so much more than that. Hangman said he was having a panic attack in the bathroom yesterday, and when we eat together he pushes his food around his plate like he knows he’s not going to eat it but he’s delaying the inevitable.”

Maverick ran a hand over her back, brows knitted together.

“He��s not eating?”

“Not really.”

“He had panic attacks as a teenager but I got him into therapy and he was doing okay, I thought...”

Maverick sighed.

“Tasha, thank you for letting me know. I’ll go and have a chat to him.”

“Thanks, Mav...”

“And I won’t tell him you came to me.”

Phoenix sniffed again, refusing to look at Maverick as she tried to stifle her sobs.

“Bradley, you home kiddo?”

“Maverick?”

Rooster appeared from the living room, hands in his pockets. Just from looking at him Maverick could see the bags under his eyes and his face fell.

“Bradley...”

His eyes hardened.

“What?”

“Have you been sleeping?”

“That’s none of your fucking business.”

Maverick blinked, shocked at the way Rooster lashed out. Suddenly, he felt very out of his depth. He swallowed, glancing over at the kitchen which was a mess.

“You’re right; not after what I... did.”

“Damn straight after what you did. Why are you here, Maverick?”

“Because your team are worried about you and I can understand why-”

“-you spoke to Trace.”

“No, hold on, that’s not fair. She came to me, worried about you. Are you being safe, Bradley?”

Being safe was a saying they’d developed when Bradley was a teenager and he was struggling with the hormones in his body, ranging from fits of anger to intense panic attacks Maverick didn’t know how to help him out of half the time. It meant looking after yourself; eating, sleeping, going to the gym or the dugouts to work off the anger.

Rooster paused, the anger dissipating.

“I’m being safe,” he finally said, “now can you just... go.”

Maverick winced.

“Bradley, if you need to... talk. There is no shame in asking for help, whether it’s from one of us, or a professional. You know that, I know you know that.”

“And didn’t I just tell you to leave?”

Maverick took the exit for what it was; a warning shot. He slowly backed out of the house, frowning all the way to his bike.

Jake was halfway through his dinner, his first steak since being back on solid ground, when there was a frantic knock on the door. He frowned, glancing at the clock before getting up from his island counter. Heading to the front door he frowned, pausing before he opened it.

“Rooster...”

“Please, I just- I need to-”

Jake tentatively opened the screen door and let his colleague in, watching him pace.

“Bradley-”

“-I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t- I wanted to tell Maverick, when he- when he came to check on me, but I couldn’t and I lashed out and now he’s pissed.”

“What are you talking about? You are the light of his life, he could never be mad at you.”

“You didn’t see the look on his face!” Rooster yelled, turning to Jake as tears streamed down his face. Jake frowned and after a moment, he stepped forward.

“C’mere man, c’mere. It’s okay, you’re safe...”

The first touch to Rooster’s hand had him flinching away, like the scared horse Jake had rescued one night at home, but the second touch to his shoulder made him melt into the other aviator.

“Roos...” Jake whispered when Bradley buried his face into Jake’s neck, moustache tickling his shoulder, the rapid breaths not helping his plight.

“Just... let’s sit down, huh? I can see the couch from here, we’re gonna sit down.”

Carefully shuffling over to his couch, Jake sat first and let Bradley join him, no longer reaching to cover himself in Jake but staring at the floor and sobbing. Jake rested his hand on Bradley’s shoulder, trying to figure out his next steps. Finally, he plucked the tissue box off his coffee table and pulled one out, placing it in Bradley’s hand.

“C’mon, I need you to sit up. We need to talk about this.”

Bradley sat up eventually, back to the couch, and Jake took him in properly.

“You look like shit.”

“Would it be any different if I said it’s not the first time I’ve heard that today?” Bradley croaked. He sniffed, suddenly exhausted, and Jake put a hand on the back of his neck.

“How long have the panic attacks been back, B?” He asked. Bradley shrugged.

“I dunno, a couple weeks? I had one on the carrier, and then... and then in the middle of the night a week ago... and I guess they’ve been kind of boiling since then.”

Jake whistled.

“And you came to me?”

“I can’t explain it, I just... I felt like I could come to you.”

“Even after everything I did?”

Bradley shrugged again, then leaned into Jake’s touch.

“Is it okay if I stay here?”

“Yeah- yeah, of course. C’mere.”

This time Jake let himself wrap his arms around Bradley’s shoulders, pressing a kiss to his temple. It felt like exactly what Bradley needed and it felt like home.

“You hungry?” Jake whispered. Bradley shook his head.

“Can’t eat; I feel like I’m going to puke it up all the time.”

“Alright.”

Jake got up, taking Bradley by the hand.

“Come sit with me while I finish my steak.”

It was closer to 4am than midnight when Jake stirred, frowning as he felt the sheets move. He knew Bradley fell asleep next to him because he’d waited until he was out before letting himself drift off, but the other side of the bed was empty and he sat up, scrubbing at his eyes.

“Bradley?”

The bedroom door opened and Bradley wandered back into the room, taking a seat on the bed. He scrubbed at his eyes, brows knitted together.

“I just want to sleep, like, the whole night through.”

“What do you usually do when you can’t sleep?” Jake yawned, running a hand down Bradley’s bare back. He hummed.

“Get up, go for a run. Work out.”

“So you get your body wired? That’s not going to wind you down for sleep.”

“There’s no point.”

“Hm.”

Jake laid back down, yawning.

“New plan. Come snuggle, like we used to.”

Slowly, Bradley joined him. Jake reached over and ran a hand through his curls.

“I need you to close your eyes for me, B. Let me help.”

Bradley did as asked and Jake kept up his movements, sighing as he watched his body start to go slack.

“There you go...”

The knock at the door made Bradley groan, burying his head into Jake’s shoulder.

“Who’s there?” He asked Jake, who cleared his throat.

“Come in,” he called. The door opened and the Daggers all filed in, sitting in various spots across the open plan living room and kitchen. Bradley looked to Jake in alarm.

“You called in the team?”

“Yeah, I did. You need to hear them out.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you’re running yourself into the ground, Roos,” Phoenix said gently. Bob glanced over at her, nodding once before he turned back to Rooster.

“We know you’re not sleeping, you haven’t been eating. You’re not yourself.”

“Darlin’,” Jake said softly, keeping Bradley’s attention on him, “you came to me and I think you were looking for a hook up.”

“Jake, I didn’t- I swear, I-“

“-yeah. I know.”

“And what about lashing out at Mav, huh? You two have been really good since you talked everything out.”

Bradley’s eyes shot to Phoenix.

“Who told you that?”

“I did.”

Maverick stood at the entrance to the living area/ kitchen hesitantly, hands in his pockets.

“I did, because I assumed you’d go to her so I wanted her to have the full story. She told me I could probably find you here.”

Maverick made his way through the team, kneeling by the couch.

“Now,” he said softly, “tell me what’s going on. Let us help you.”

Bradley sniffed, but he didn’t lash out again. Sighing, he scrubbed at his nose.

“I’m tired, like, all the time…”

#top gun: Maverick #top gun maverick #rooster #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #tgm #callsign: Rooster

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jedipoodoo · 2 years

Note

Hi! Your writing is amazing! Pretty please if you have the time, female reader in a secret relationship with Crosshair- pregnant with crosshairs baby, trying to hide it from the bad batch and getting found out!

Stay (Crosshair x Pregnant!Reader)

Notes/Warnings: Pregnancy, morning sickness, Chipped Crosshair, Angst, not very much comfort, if you think the opening scene resembles something from Revenge of the Sith no it doesn't what this fic actually resembles is Bitter, a fic written by my dearest friend Rune on AO3

"No. that's impossible." You shook your head.

"I don't blame you," Hunter sat on the opposite end of the couch, "I can hardly believe it myself."

"Crosshair would never do anything like that!" You stood to refute Hunter's claims that Crosshair was following orders, first of all, and then that he was being mind-controlled by the Empire and has attacked his squad and his brothers.

Your legs quickly lost their strength, and you fell back into the couch next to Tech.

"I don't believe you," You shook your head again, "I can't."

Hunter looked you up and down, and Tech quickly took note of how you held yourself, hands caressing your stomach.

"Crosshair's the father, isn't he?" Tech asked quietly.

The lump in your throat kept you from answering. All you could do was stare at him, blinking back tears. But both of Crosshair's brothers knew that any other answer would be ludicrous.

"I'm so sorry." Hunter whispered, his hand gently squeezing your shoulder.

"You should come with us," Tech said, "We can protect you."

"No!" It came out louder than you meant it too, at both of them looked at you curiously.

You shook your head, still holding yourself. "A life on the run is no life for a child. The galaxy's been at war for the last four years, and I want my child to have whatever semblance of normalcy I can give them, no matter who their father is."

Tech looked at Hunter, and they silently argued over if they should convince you to change your mind or not, but the glare that you fixed at Hunter's skull tattoo quickly shut down that idea.

"We need to get back to the others," Hunter sighed at last, "But you have our comms. Let us know if you need anything."

You managed a weak smile for him. "Sure thing."

Tech gave you a gentle hug good-bye, and you watched them both sneak down the hall of your apartment in the dark of night. When they finally vanished, you closed the door, clinging to the wall for strength.

You cradled your stomach as the nausea rose in your throat. "Oh, Cross-" A sob tore itself from your throat, and you ran to the toilet before your dinner could make a reappearance.

You knew he was a soldier. You knew he'd have to be away from you. You certainly hadn't planned on getting pregnant with his child as soon as the war ended. You hadn't even told your family. You wanted to tell Crosshair before anyone else found out, but with what Hunter and Tech told you, did you want him to find out? Was the Crosshair that you knew and loved still out there? Or was he replaced with some kind of abomination cooked up in the Kaminoan's most secret labs?

You sobbed over the toilet until you were confident it was all over with. For now, at least. Morning would certainly bring its own terrors.

You made your way back to your bed in a daze, collapsing on top of the blankets. You didn't even have the energy to make your bed this morning.

You grabbed a shirt from Crosshair's side of the bed, pulling it on over your clothes. It was a bit snug around the stomach, but it fit for now.

Even if Crosshair really was gone, you still had your memories of him.

-------

Sunlight poured in through the windows, and you cradled your face in your arms to block out the light.

"Good morning, sarad."

You chuckled at his familiar touch, tucking strands of hair behind your ear.

Realization hit, and you jumped back, nearly falling off the edge of the bed.

Crosshair lay on his side of the bed, parallel to where you'd just been laying. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, and you were going to throw up at any moment.

Crosshair was here. Crosshair was alive, and back in your home.

"What...what's with the armor?" You stammered, white knuckles gripping the sheets of your bed.

Crosshair looked down at his suit of armor. It looked like a regular trooper's armor, but completely black instead of white. it bore none of his own creative embellishments, all the details you'd memorized.

"I outgrew the old one," His voice croaked, as if he hadn't used it in a while. He coughed to clear his throat, and you turned and ran. Crosshair leaped up to follow you, only to realize you were seeking refuge in the refresher vac-tube.

You could sense him hovering just behind your shoulder.

"I-I'm fine," You coughed out, waving him away, "I'll be right out-"

Crosshair knelt by your side, pulling your hair back from your face and tying it off with a leather cord. Tears stung your eyes at the tender gesture, and his hands began to work at your shoulders, gently massaging away the tension.

"Is it mine?" He asked, as if he already knew the answer. You barely managed to nod before one more round of bile forced its way up. Cross grabbed the cup from the sink counter, filling it with a sip of water, which he extended to you.

"What are you doing here?" You asked between sips.

Crosshair watched you carefully, his fingers working their way up and down your back.

"I came to see you." He said softly.

You told yourself that the urge to cry was because of hormones, and not because of anything else, and wiped your tears on the sleeve of your shirt--Crosshair's shirt. You were still wearing it.

You gulped down the water. Should you bring up Hunter and the others? Chances were he already knew they'd been here, and he was probably here to get information out of you.

"Does this mean you'll have to leave again soon?" You asked.

His eyes flickered back and forth between your face and your stomach. "Maybe."

He cupped your cheek, running a thumb across your cheekbone, "But if I leave, you can be certain I'm taking my wife and child with me."

You stared at him. "Where? Kamino? Where they can make our child into a soldier?"

Crosshair froze in his soft touch.

"Crosshair, I can't go with you."

"The Empire will provide for us."

"How?" You begged him. "I can provide for us here. We can give this child a normal life, a life where they're safe and don't have to worry about growing up too fast or being forced into battle."

You took his face in your hands. "Stay. Stay here with me." You begged, pulling him closer to you.

His lips were inches from yours when his hands gently wrapped around your wrists, pulling them away from his face.

"I can't." He whispered, and once again his voice was not his own.

With that, he stood and walked out of your apartment, leaving you crying on the floor of the refresher again.

#lizart writes #the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #tbb x reader #crosshair #tbb crosshair #crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x reader #commander crosshair #commander crosshair x reader #pregnant reader #clone babies

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dodo-begone · 3 years

Text

New Normal

Pairing: Yandere!Tubbo x Reader (with some Ranboo)

Request: we need more yandere tubbo i absolutely love the way you wrote him shdhhfjd........ maybe a short fic or some headcanons elaborating on "waking up in the mansion one day"? maybe the reader gets more afraid than going along with it .. I'd love to see ranboos aspect regarding tubbos behavior as well 👀

Word count: 2.3 k

Warning: yandere, kidnapping, drugging

A/n: This is all platonic. Nothing romantic. Also this was meant to be short not this long oh lord.

The night had been unforgiving to you as of late. Every night you felt like you were being watched over. It was so weird. It didn’t matter if the windows were open or not. Or even if they had blinds over them. Your paranoia was being fed by every noise emanating from the darkness. Now you weren’t afraid of the dark, never had been. But now, oh god the dark was terrifying. The unknown of the dark scared you. Anything could be hiding in there. And with this new “admirer” of yours, your newfound fear of the shadows was being fed a damn feast. The last straw for you was when you came home one night and saw your window broken and front door open. It spooked you too much; what if they were still inside? You couldn’t risk that.

That’s how you found yourself in Tubbo’s house, on his couch, hunched over and shaking over a cup of tea. You don’t remember why you came here, in all honesty. There were so many other people you could have chosen that were more than capable of protecting you. There was Sam, Bad, Sapnap, even Technoblade. Yet you still went to Tubbo. He was a comforting presence for you. And you just really wanted some comfort for this new fear of yours. Is this what I child felt when they were scared of the dark and needed a flashlight? God now you feel so bad for making fun of little kids for needing those.

“Hey are you okay,” a hand just fucking attacks your shoulder and you wip around. Oh god what if the guy got you now- wait it’s just Tubbo. Wow you overreacted there. Your swift actions shocked Tubbo, making him take a few steps away from you. He held his hands up in the air; an attempt to show he meant no harm to you. But you were just relieved at the sight of Tubbo.

“I don’t know,” a lump was forming in your throat. The tea isn't helping at all. You were so upset that you couldn’t even tell what flavor it was. Nor did you ask Tubbo, but that didn’t matter. Only distractions mattered now; a way to get your mind off of the paranoid thoughts. “I think I am”. Your grip on the cup tightened. Some of that was you trying to ground yourself, but another part of it was just tension. It was becoming harder to breathe and you had no idea why. There wasn’t a reason. Start breathing normally again- uh what was that breathing exercise?

Tubbo came around the couch and sat by your side. “Hey, can you look at me really quick?” He grabbed your hands and you looked at him. Somehow looking into his eyes made it harder to breathe. “Okay now repeat after me- wait not repeat. Uh, do what I do. Ready?” You didn’t get a chance to reply before he started. “Okay take a deep breath with me. In through the mouth for five and out the nose for four. In for five, out for four.” A small pattern formed from the mantra. Something about the exercise was extremely comforting, but you were never sure on what it was. Well you knew it had to do with slowing your breathing and helping you focus, but you felt like there was something else to it. There had to be something else to it. Why else would it be able to calm you so well right now?

It took a while, but you finally calmed down. Well, “calmed down” being a relative term. You were tired and numb inside. Your attention was completely focused on the flames in the hearth. They were mesmerizing. Happily dancing away, illuminating the room.

You hadn’t realized what was happening. All you remember is looking at Tubbo and then everything just became blurry. The sting of tears stung your eyes. Oh, you were about to cry again. That’s so annoying, stupid. You had just calmed down and yet you’re still crying. Craving human contact must be a symptom of sadness or some shit because you looked at Tubbo for comfort. And he gave you exactly that; opening his arms to give you a hug. Without a second thought, you essentially flew into his arms. He accepted you immediately and held you close. The tears that had once been contained by a damn once again ran free. Slowly you grew tired. Oh how you despised the act of crying and how it drained you so. A little nap wouldn’t hurt.

__________________________________ The sunbeams were attacking you and it hurt so much. So bright, demanding. You didn’t want to get up. Sleepiness still held you captive, flowed through your body like the very blood you had. Yet the light was relentless, attacking your closed eyes through it’s armor. A valiant effort was made to stay asleep and keep the sunlight out of your eyes. But it was futile. Rolling over did nothing but illicit noise and made you mildly uncomfortable. When you finally gave in, you just stared blankly at the wall.

For a wall, it was pretty. Kinda. It was plain but a stylish kind of plain. A timeless look. It took ages to finally muster the energy to even sit up, but you still did. The view changed yet it didn’t at the same time. It was pretty empty in the room. Three doorways, two next to each other on your right and one on your left, a bed, some curtains, a small nightstand, and a bookshelf. Other than that, there was a ton of open space.

Once you regained some more consciousness, you slipped out of bed. There was a jingle, but you didn’t really pay attention to it. You definitely heard it, you just thought something fell on the floor. Whatever it was could wait. The unexplored room was just waiting for exploration, though you could have easily explored it from your bed because of how empty it was. When you got to one of the doors, you slowly opened it to reveal a closet. It was absolutely filled with clothes you liked. Or some you were missing. Didn’t you own that shirt at home? And that one too? Huh, what a coincidence. Pretty cool.

Not even two steps away from the closet was another door, which you also slowly opened. Didn’t want to hit anyone. Through that door was a bathroom. It was pretty big and pretty. Very shiny and clean. There were some care products in there, some shampoo and conditioner. But you stopped yourself from looking too much. You didn’t want to snoop. It was rather rude to do.

Grogley you turn toward the last mystery door. It was all the way on the other side of the room. Man you weren’t awake enough for this. Yawning, you start your way to the other doorway. That must be the way back to the rest of the mansion. Sadly you didn’t get far. Not even halfway there before you were stopped. More accurately tripped. Something made your foot slip from underneath, making you fall onto your stomach. Everything ached, but your ankle felt weird. It was a different pain. When you tried to pull it closer to examine it, something stopped it and the sound of metal hitting itself rang across the room. You nearly give yourself whiplash from how quickly you turn your head.

A metal cuff clung onto your ankle which in turn was connected to a tense chain. At the other end of the chain was one of the bedposts. Specifically the one closest to the closet and bathroom. That’s odd. Okay now what’s going on here? Oh did Tubbo do this to make you feel more secure? Well it was and wasn’t working all at the same time. Because who puts an ankle chain on somebody?

A knock interrupted your thoughts. From your spot on the floor, you whipped your head back around to the last mystery door. You stayed quiet, wondering if you were just imagining noises. But another knock soon came. It was undeniable, very pronounced and purposeful. Whoever was out there- what could they be here for. Panic started to overtake you again, but the sound of Tubbo’s voice coming from the other side of the door caught your attention.

“Can I come in,” Tubbo announces his presence again with another round of knocks. With the amount of noise you made, you were pretty sure he knew you were awake. But you still replied to him.

“Yeah you can.”

Not even a second after you reply, the door slowly opens and Tubbo peaks his head in. He seemed to have woken up with some bedhead, which made him look boyish. A little careless for physical appearances, which can be an endearing feature. Tubbo gave the room a sweeping look, checking for something. What exactly, you couldn’t tell. But apparently he was satisfied because he opened the doorway entirely. You swiftly stood up, getting as close to the door as you could.

On the other side of the door was Tubbo in some pajamas. He looked a little sleepy, but his happiness shone through it. You smiled at the sight of him, happy that someone came to get you out.

“Good morning, Tubbo!” You gave a toothy grin and spread your arms to emphasize your joy. “Sleep well?”

“Good morning!.” He gave you a toothy smile in return, but it looked odd. Like it was forced, nervous even. But you must’ve just been looking too far into it. “I slept pretty good. How’d you sleep?”

“I slept like a fucking rock,” you reply with a little laughter. “Honestly? Best sleep of the month, man. Really needed it. Thanks for letting me bunk at your place last night.”

“Not a problem at all,” his smile soon became more natural, much bigger. “I really enjoyed having you over”. It seemed like he was going to say something else, but stopped himself. The nervous look reappeared on his face, and you gave the most reassuring look you could. “So about you moving in-”

“Oh yeah that,” your smile disappeared as quickly as it came. “I can’t just do that Tubbo. I just can’t.” Tubbo seemed saddened by your response. “It’s not like I don’t want to live with you,” you explained. “I’d love to live with you and Ranboo, but I have other responsibilities. Things that have to be done very far from the mansion. Seriously, I’d love to stay.”

“Then stay.” It was a simple statement on his part. You thought it was a little banter.

“I’d stay if I could Tubbo. But I gotta go.”

“You can’t go.”

“Yes I can, Tubbo. Now can you please unchain me, I gotta go.” You lift your ankle and shake it along with the chain for emphasis.

But Tubbo doesn’t even give it a look before answering. “You can’t leave.”

His actions are words are a bit worrying now, huh. This is just a silly prank. Any second now he’ll say it’s a joke and release you. Yeah, any moment now.

That moment never comes though.

“Come on now,” Tubbo starts to lead you back to the bed. “Get back in bed. You still look tired.”

“I’m not tired Tubbo,” your voice hardens to emphasise the fact that you really don’t need this shit right now. “Look I’m completely fine and I have to go. This joke isn’t funny anymore. Just unlock the fucking cuff and I’ll be on my way.”

You two stop at the bed and he gently ushers you in. Climbing on the bed to give you a hug. Struggling against him does no good. If anything, it just makes things worse. He just tightens his grip like a damn python. Wtf why is this kid so strong and clingy? This definitely isn’t a good combo.

“Look you aren’t fine. See?” He emphasizes his point by hugging you tighter. Which you don’t like and groan in protest. “You need to rest. It’s fine. You’re home.”

Internally you start to panic. Yo, hold up, what the hell is he talking about? You know damn well you ain’t home or agreed to stay here. So what does he think he’s doing?

There’s a cough from the doorway, and both you and Tubbo’s attention is diverted to the newcomer. At the threshold of the room is Ranboo. A platter loaded with food held between his hands. He looks awkward standing there. And you don’t blame him because you felt awkward just being in the hug. You couldn’t even imagine the embarrassment you’d get from walking in on this shit. When your eyes meet, he gives you a small, unsure smile.

Movement behind Ranboo catches your attention. You look behind Ranboo’s legs to see Micheal clinging onto Ranboo’s pants. He looked so happy. Well, happy being debatable and interpretive. He looked normal but he was making his little happy noises. Micheal bounded over to you, stretching his arms out while making the most adorable little oink noises. You look between Tubbo and Ranboo for any sign. Literally anything for them. But Tubbo just encourages you. So you pick up Micheal and hold him close to your chest.

Tubbo gives a cheer of joy while Ranboo joins in, though a little less enthusiastic. Still the fact he sounded genuinely happy about this situation was worrying. Especially since he knew what was going on. Knew how wrong it all was. Micheal had no idea. Happily oinking way in your lap and messing with your hands. Suddenly two sets of arms entangle themselves around you; pulling themselves toward you for a hug.

Looking down at Micheal, you now question if the backstory you were told about him was true. Was he actually found wandering around? Or was he kidnapped, just like you?

#c: tubbo #c: ranboo #tw: yandere #yandere #dodo writing #mcyt x reader #x reader #dsmp x reader #dsmp!tubbo #dsmp!ranboo #tubbo x reader #ranboo x reader #yandere tubbo #yandere ranboo #yandere tubbo x reader #tw: kidnapping #tw: drugging #dsmp!ranboo x reader #dsmp!tubbo x reader

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wintergrew · 2 years

Text

Thoughts about Tricia and fandom

So I'm one of those people who LOVES using Tricia Tucker in fandom things, and a little while ago I was talking to people and reminded of how people tend to be really negative towards people using her, especially compared to other sibling characters. This is just sharing my thoughts and not meant to attack anyone, but just throwing this out there in hopes people can be kinder about egg children, but I think there's a ton of reasons for this.

Because, quite frankly, many fans are fixated on Creek or "Craig and those guys". Craig is kind of still a character that is in a ton of ships, with pairings like Crenny or Cryde or Staig having significant fanbases. So...if Craig or someone dating Craig is a main character, naturally they would likely come across his sister? A Creek story with focus on Craig's family would naturally have her front and center? If Tricia is around playing with friends maybe you might get Karen or Ike, but older siblings like Shelly or Kevin make less sense? I mean they could still be incorporated, but it is more natural than "main character's literal immediate family." Or tl;dr...Craig is often a main character in fics or a central muse in art. Of course his sister is going to get more attention than siblings of kids the creator isn't focusing on.

For fics, most stories have characters aged up. If characters are 18 and in their senior year of high school, older siblings are likely going to be away at college or not at home. Someone like Shelly isn't particularly close to her dad and brother, so it makes since she is written as being "not around". Younger siblings like Tricia, Ike, or Karen would still be living at home with their students. Even if you have the main characters in college, younger siblings would often still be in high school so a visit home or phone call is more likely to have them. Characters closer to their siblings like Kyle and Ike or Kenny and Karen are more likely to keep in contact in stories because they're all adults than siblings not shown to be as close. With Tricia it's an unknown, so it's up to the writer's interpration. But overall, it's just basic logistics in a lot of stories' settings.

Ignoring Tricia completely for this one, you DO see a lot of Karen and Kenny or Ike and Kyle in stories about htem because they have a wholesome relationship. Kevin and Kenny, especially compared to Kenny with Karen, seem to mostly ignore each other, while Stan and Shelly have primarily been openly hostile. Don't get me wrong, Shelly can be a BAMF but the way their relationship has been potrayed (mostly early on) is more than just fun bickering siblings and more her being openly violent towards him. That appeals to some people in writing, but not others, and I think people writing an older Stan being not super close to her is #valid, just as it would be that they grow up to get along.

BECAUSE Tricia and her sibling relationship with Craig is so vague it allows for open creativity. You wanna have fun writing a mini-Craig? You can do that! You wanna write her as a social butterfly who is his exact opposite? The freedom is yours! It's what makes her fun to me--I can do literally whatever I want with her without feeling any sort of restrictions. Much of the appeal of South Park fandom in general is the sandbox, free for all nature. So having a character you can do whatever with? Adds to the fun.

Related--people obsess and use one-off or minor character boys all the time. Thomas the tourettes kid has little to go off of, but he's somewhat of a fan favorite. Jason only had a few lines, yet he has his dedicated fandom and ships. Or Brimmy, or Dogpoo, or the "foreign kids", or Damien, or so many of them who have few more lines than Tricia has. Plus, there are so few developed girls, with many of them like Red also being primarily fandom dictated. I wish fandom would do this to more of the girl characters, as opposed to just Red and Tricia. If fandom can obsess and create personalities for one-off or background boys, they can do it for a minor girl character as well! Don't discourage focus on da gurlz, encourage it!

#south park #tricia tucker #craig tucker #karen mccormick #shelly marsh #kevin mccormick #wrote an essay sorry lol

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dream-a-little-bigger-darling000 · 3 years

Text

You'll Fit So Nicely You'll Keep Me Intact

Author's Note: Hello Hello! Not my GIF, please don't think it is, but it is my fic! I asked a few days ago if I should do Bane or touch-starved Tommy, and it was pretty clear I should do my sweet summer child Tommy boy. I just really think this big tough fighter needs to take a break and be held every once in awhile. And you can't tell me this man wouldn't have the sweetest moans. Fight me on it you can't. Please Please PLEASE reblog, like, or comment on this if you liked it. I live my day to day life craving validation.

If you absolutely hated it, also let me know! I admit I'm not the best at writing, and I'm willing to learn so I can feed my Tommy Conlon addiction. Ok, that's all, be fed!

2400+ words?! C'mon, that's gotta be enough to make you proud.

The whole fiasco was genuinely an accident.

The two of you, in his small cramped apartment, helping each other make dinner, because you couldn't remember whose turn it was, walking around each other like you had been doing it for years, because you had been.

You had been by Tommy for as long as you can remember, through those years where puberty slammed in the door and decked you directly in the throat (and other places), through the time where his family had slowly fallen apart, and into the years where he had joined the US Marine Corps.

Those years had been hell. At least when he moved away you were still able to text him annoying day-to-day updates and talk in the quiet nights when no one was awake to hear you admit how much you missed each other. But when he joined the Marines, you heard even less from your Tommy, and the ache you felt for him only grew.

When he came back, he had came back for good, immediately seeking you out with the promise of your old relationship back. And things went back to normal, slotted into place perfectly.

Except the insane amount of pining that you went through every waking hour you saw his stupidly attractive face.

But you weren't going to think about that. There was spaghetti to be made.

"Those are done." Tommy nodded his head to the noodles as he made the salad. You sneered to yourself, still pissed that he got the easy part.

"No, they're not, look, that one's still hard-"

"That's what she said."

"It's still undercooked you jerk. Can you please let me cook in peace? You're over there, doing the bare minimum, you ass."

"Hey, if this isn't tossed right, the whole thing is ruined. And those noodles are definitely done. We can get them in the sauce before the garlic bread is done so it'll cool down a bit. Look." All the sudden Tommy was crowded up behind you. Your breath did something funny. Probably the steam from the boiling water. Because, you know, it's so hard to breathe around.

Tommy took the spoon you were using to stir and managed to scoop up a single noodle. He then carefully picked it up and threw it on the cabinet. It stuck, but looked like it would fall via a strong sneeze.

"See? Done." You looked behind you to stare up at the infuriating man. He smiled and tilted his head. You had the sudden urge to hit him. With your mouth. Damn it.

He turned around, not giving you a chance to argue with him. That was his first mistake. As a MMA fighter, the idiot should know never to turn your back on the enemy.

You scooped up another noodle with your spoon. You waited until he was truly busy with cutting the tomatoes up for the salad.

You aimed for his head. It wrapped around the back of his neck with a soft splat. He startled for a moment, and then set the knife down and stared forward, still not turning around to look at you.

"You know what, now it's done. Now it's stickin'." You were struggling to hold it together, desperately trying not to laugh as you turned off the stovetop and set the pan aside.

You felt strong arms envelop you from behind, and you let out a loud laugh as you felt your feet leave the floor. Tommy, spinning you around before setting you on the counter. You've really put yourself it a bad position.

Well, if you're being honest, probably the best damn position you've ever been in.

Except that the bastard started tickling you. More laughter spilled out of you, uncontrollable at this point.

"Tommy!" You were out of breath from the constant attack. What happened to never turn your back on the enemy? "Tommy, what are we in-" More laughter as his joined yours. You two were so close you could feel his shoulder dip every time he rumbled a laugh. "what are we in 6th grade now- Tommy!"

You could feel his laughter huff by your ear, and you knew you had to resort to dirty tactics. If he wanted to play by middle school standards, then you had no choice but to stoop down to his level.

Tommy was very distracted trying to murder you by laughter alone, and he looked like he was having the time of his life. He never even realized your hands were so close to his head. He was in the middle of another fit of giggles when he felt your nimble hands glide through his hair. He had half a second to understand what you were planning, and he was just about to pull away, to get as far from you as possible before-

You gave a solid pull to his hair. You felt satisfaction shoot through your body as his laugh choked off, his body going rigid underneath your fingers. His breath stuttered and his hands instantly fell from your sides to grasp the edge of the counter.

You didn't quite understand what was going on at first, the only thing on your mind being that you'd won the battle. You couldn't help the smug smile from sliding across your expression, or the snarky little giggle that bubbled it's way out.

"What's wrong, Tommy? Did someone school you at your own game, hmm? Maybe next time you'll think before you-"

"Could you please let go?" Tommy sound winded, like he'd just fought a few rounds with someone much bigger than him. It made you pause, and then frown.

Your fingers loosened from his hair, but you didn't lower your arm just yet. You couldn't fathom why Tommy was acting this way, when he instigated the rough-housing. And you knew for damn sure you hadn't hurt him. You had seen the idiot stub his toe on his coffee table before, and the only reaction out of the fighter was a pause, a look up to the ceiling, and one long, drawn out sigh.

So even though he sounded like he was trying to fight for his life, you know it absolutely wasn't because you had hurt him in anyway. Tommy could break you five times over.

You looked down at his hands. Not only was he grasping the edge of the counter top, but his knuckles were white, like he was anchoring himself. You glanced to his face. His eyes were squeezed shut, his lips pressed tightly together, and his eyebrows were furrowed in deep concentration. Was he- was that a blush? His body was still pulled tight.

Experimentally, you lightly scraped your nails along his scalp.

If Tommy were to ever hear you call the sound that came from him a whimper, he'd probably swiftly and effectively dispose of your body. But it was a fucking whimper.

His eyes snapped open wide and met yours. You saw his utter mortification. You would say you felt guilty, but having your long time crush whimper while slotted between your thighs as you sat a top a kitchen counter really did things for you.

You mentally reprimanded yourself for letting your mind fall into the gutter as your friend so obviously had a small break down.

Before you could get a word out, to try talk him down from whatever thoughts were swirling in that pretty head of his, Tommy was out of kitchen. Ah, so he's chosen drama today? Coming from a man who would rather fight his own brother than talk, you can't really find it in yourself to be surprised.

"Tom." You dropped down from the counter, heading toward the living room, which was the only way he could've gone. As you rounded the corner, you saw him pacing the length of the room, his hands interlaced behind his head, elbows out, eyes wild.

"Tommy." You smoothed out your voice, pictured yourself trying to calm down a particularly flighty horse. You know, if the horse were the love of your life and you were desperately trying to make things less weird between you two before the already delicate friendship collapsed.

At your gentle prod he stopped. He let his hands fall down to his sides. He huffed once. Crossed his arms, made a face, and then dropped them. His fists curled up into balls and he closed his eyes. He opened one and looked toward you.

"You didn't hear that."

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your own arms to your chest.

He pointed to the kitchen. "That didn't happen."

Because you love your best friend very much, you didn't roll your eyes.

"Tommy. Calm down. Take a deep breath." He did not take a deep breath. You did for him. Then another one for you. You moved toward the couch, and the way he suddenly looked like he was about to sprint out the door didn't escape you. You held your hands up placatingly. Easy, boy.

You sat down, leaving enough room for him to sit beside you. He looked at you wearily. You gave him a pointed look, one that said this is something to be discussed, and there's no way you're getting out of it, and gently patted the space for him.

He looked like he'd rather do anything else. He eventually made his way to the spot and plunked down, but as close to the arm of the couch as possible.

You gave him a sweet smile. He looked away, but not before you caught the blush. You decided to let him speak first.

It was quiet for awhile. Your thoughts went to the noodles still sitting on the counter, probably cooling in the water making a film. He cleared his throat.

"I don't. Not a ton of people touch me." He stared dutifully in front of him. You stayed silent, afraid of scaring him into silence again. He shifted uncomfortably, letting out a growl of frustration. "I mean people touch me. I just meant. It's not. It's," He looked like each word was slowly strangling him, "Never that intimate. I guess. And never anyone like you."

You're eyebrows shot up. His head jerked toward you.

"Not like that, I mean like someone so pretty." You choked a little. He visibly flinched. "Ok. I think that's enough for tonight. I think I've made plenty an ass of myself for one God forsaken night." He made to move, but your hand covered his before you really thought about it. He immediately stopped, staring at your hand on top of his.

"Tommy, it's ok." He gave you a dubious look. "No, really. Lots of people don't know how to deal with touch when it's not normal for them-"

"I'm fine, I touch people all the time, it doesn't matter it's ridiculous-"

"Tommy." He stopped. You lifted both hands to slowly cradle his face. His eyes were panicky. He looked like he was fighting every instinct inside him. "Listen to me, love." His eyes widened. "You don't have to explain anything. I need you to know it's ok to freak out a little. It's ok for this to be new." You bit your lip. "It's ok if it feels good."

A small sound came from the fighter. His eyes slipped closed. It suddenly hit you. You sucked in a sharp breath, and you started to gently stroking his face to his neck.

"Oh Tommy. You spend all that time fighting in the ring, so much time dominating. You barely let anyone touch you before you knock them away." His dad was probably never there to offer him any type of physical love, and his mom was too distanced from anyone to truly give what Tommy craved. By that time, he had pushed his brother away, and you had never really noticed him to be very active in the dating area.

You could feel his control slipping, could feel him slowly letting you hold his head up while he explored the sensation of someone just feeling him. When he spoke, his speech was slightly slurred.

"Was always jus' scared."

"I know Tommy."

"Didn' want you t' leave."

"And why would I do something stupid like that."

There was a second of silence, but Tommy was too far in to go back now.

"Cuz' I only wanted you to touch. Only ever you." Your heart stopped. His eyes slowly opened, meeting yours. His gaze snapped to your lips, back up to your eyes. All it took was for your eyes to snap to his lush mouth, and he was surging to meet you.

You felt like you were melting, melding into him. His lips were sliding against yours, his hands suddenly huge, thumbs cupping your face while his hands rested on the sides of your neck. He kissed like you see him fight. The urgency and the power and the emotion. You ached all over.

You could hardly remember your name when you finally separated, heaving lungfuls of air. Maybe all that oxygen deprivation had really done something to your brain, because you might be having a stroke. It almost smelled like something was burning. Tommy's face did something funny and he sniffed the air.

Oh. OH. The garlic bread.

Both of you made a mad dash for the kitchen, Tommy arriving first and throwing the oven door open, grabbing whatever cloth he could find to take out the charred bread as you used a dishrag to flap away any smoke that spilled out.

Once he made sure his apartment wasn't going to burn down or that the ambulance wan't going to be making a surprise visit, he slumped against the counter, breathing heavily. You put your hands on your hips.

A few second went by, both of you trying to catch your breath. Tommy looked up at you. You met his eye.

You both melted into peeling laughter, trying to stay upright. It seemed like every time you two would get your shit together, you'd fall right back into cackles.

He finally reigned in the worst of the laughter, and slowly made his way to where you were standing. Your own laughs died down.

"Are we good?" you ask him gently. He nods his head, with his sweet smile.

"We're good" he replies gently. He gets this determined look on his face, and steps real close to you. He doesn't do anything else for awhile, instead looking to you, asking with questioning eyes.

You give him an encouraging smile. He smiles right back at you, and for the second time tonight, strong arms envelop you.

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

Note

Here's a quandary I've suddenly found myself in: where do you stand on writers deleting their own works, fanfiction or otherwise? I've had this happen to me on more than one occasion - I go to look for an old favorite and find it's since been deleted from whatever site I read it on.

On the one hand, I'm inclined to think that, "Sure. The author wrote it, it's their call. I don't own the work - I certainly didn't pay for it. It's their decision, even if it's disappointing."

But at the same time I can't help but consider the alternative - if I believe in death of the author (and I do), that an author's work fundamentally isn't solely theirs once it's been published, posted, etc., then it also seems wrong to have a work deleted. Stories aren't the sole property of their creator, after all.

But then I circle back. D'you think there are different obligations between authors and readers and the works being made in fandom space? I know if I had bought a book and the author decided they wanted it back, I would feel pretty comfortable telling them no, given I'd paid for it and whatnot. But that's a different world from fanfic and fandom space generally.

So. You're insightful Clyde, I'm curious as to what you'll have to say here (and to all y'all thinking about it, don't flame me. I haven't decided where I stand here yet - haven't heard a good nail-in-the-coffin argument for or against yet).

Val are you a mind reader now? I’ve been thinking about this exact conundrum the last few days!

(And yeah, as a general disclaimer: no flaming. Not allowed. Any asks of the sort will be deleted on sight and with great satisfaction.)

Honestly, I’m not sure there is a “nail-in-the-coffin argument” for this, just because—as you lay out—there are really good points for keeping works around and really good points for allowing authors to have control over their work, especially when fanworks have no payment/legal obligations attached. In mainstream entertainment, your stories reflect a collaborative effort (publisher, editor, cover artists, etc.) so even if it were possible to delete the physical books out of everyone’s home and library (and we're ignoring the censorship angle for the moment), that’s no longer solely the author’s call, even if they have done the lion’s share of the creative work. Though fanworks can also, obviously, be collaborative, they’re usually not collaborative in the same way (more “This fic idea came about from discord conversations, a couple tumblr posts, and that one headcanon on reddit”) and they certainly don’t have the same monetary, legal, and professional strings attached. I wrote this fic as a hobby in my free time. Don’t I have the right to delete it like I also have the right to tear apart the blankets I knit?

Well yes… but also no? I personally view fanworks as akin to gifts—the academic term for our communities is literally “gift economy”—so if we view it like that, suddenly that discomfort with getting rid of works is more pronounced. If I not only knit a blanket, but then gift it to a friend, it would indeed feel outside of my rights to randomly knock on their door one day and go, “I actually decided I hate that? Please give it back so I can tear it to shreds, thanks :)” That’s so rude! And any real friend would try to talk me out of it, explaining both why they love the blanket and, even if it’s not technically the best in terms of craftsmanship, it holds significant emotional value to them. Save it for that reason alone, at least. Fanworks carry that same meaning—“I don’t care if it’s full of typos, super cliché, and using some outdated, uncomfortable tropes. This story meant so much to me as a teenager and I’ll always love it”—but the difference in medium and relationships means it’s easier to ignore all that. I’m not going up to someone’s house and asking face-to-face to destroy something I gave them (which is awkward as hell. That alone deters us), I’m just pressing a button on my computer. I’m not asking this of a personal friend that is involved in my IRL experiences, I’m (mostly) doing this to online peers I know little, if anything, about. It’s easy to distance ourselves from both the impact of our creative work and the act of getting rid of it while online. On the flip-side though, it’s also easier to demean that work and forget that the author is a real person who put a lot of effort into this creation. If someone didn’t like my knitted blanket I gave them as a gift, they’re unlikely to tell me that. They recognize that it’s impolite and that the act of creating something for them is more important than the construction’s craftsmanship. For fanworks though, with everyone spread around the world and using made up identities, people have fewer filters, happily tearing authors to shreds in the comments, sending anon hate, and the like. The fact that we’re both prefacing this conversation with, “Please don’t flame” emphasizes that. So if I wrote a fic with some iffy tropes, “cringy” dialogue, numerous typos, whatever and enough people decided to drag me for it… I don’t know whether I’d resist the urge to just delete the fic, hopefully ending those interactions. There’s a reason why we’re constantly reminding others to express when they enjoy someone else’s work: the ratio of praise to criticism in fandom (or simply praise to seeming indifference because there was no public reaction at all), is horribly skewed.

So I personally can’t blame anyone for deleting. I’d like to hope that more people realize the importance of keeping fanworks around, that everything you put out there is loved by someone… but I’m well aware that the reality is far more complicated. It’s hard to keep that in mind. It’s hard to keep something around that you personally no longer like. Harder still to keep up a work you might be harassed over, that someone IRL discovered, that you’re disgusted with because you didn’t know better back then… there are lots of reasons why people delete and I ultimately can’t fault them for that. I think the reasons why people delete stem more from problems in fandom culture at large—trolling, legal issues, lack of positive feedback, cancel culture, etc.—than anything the author has or has not personally done, and since such work is meant to be a part of an enjoyable hobby… I can’t rightly tell anyone to shoulder those problems, problems they can’t solve themselves, just for the sake of mine or others’ enjoyment. The reason I’ve been thinking about this lately is because I was discussing Attack on Titan and how much I dislike the source material now, resulting in a very uncomfortable relationship with the fics I wrote a few years back. I’ve personally decided to keep them up and that’s largely because some have received fantastic feedback and I’m aware of how it will hurt those still in the fandom if I take them down. So if a positive experience is the cornerstone of me keeping fics up, I can only assume that negative experiences would likewise been the cornerstone of taking them down. And if getting rid of that fic helps your mental health, or solves a bullying problem, or just makes you happier… that, to me, is always more important than the fic itself.

But, of course, it’s still devastating for everyone who loses the work, which is why my compromise-y answer is to embrace options like AO3’s phenomenal orphaning policy. That’s a fantastic middle ground between saving fanworks and allowing authors to distances themselves from them. I’ve also gotten a lot more proactive about saving the works I want to have around in the future. Regardless of whether we agree with deleting works or not, the reality is we do live in a world where it happens, so best to take action on our own to save what we want to keep around. Though I respect an author’s right to delete, I also respect the reader’s right to maintain access to the work, once published, in whatever way they can. That's probably my real answer here: authors have their rights, but readers have their rights too, so if you decide to publish in the first place, be aware that these rights might, at some point, clash. I download all my favorite fics to Calibre and, when I’m earning more money (lol) I hope to print and bind many for my personal library. I’m also willing to re-share fic if others are looking for them, in order to celebrate the author’s work even if they no longer want anything to do with it. Not fanfiction in this case, but one of my fondest memories was being really into Phantom of the Opera as a kid and wanting, oh so desperately, to read Susan Kay’s Phantom. Problem was, it was out of print at the time, not available at my library, and this was before the age of popping online and finding a used copy. For all intents and purposes, based on my personal situation, this was a case of a book just disappearing from the world. So when an old fandom mom on the message boards I frequented offered to type her copy up chapter by chapter and share it with me, you can only imagine how overjoyed I was. Idk what her own situation was that something like scanning wouldn’t work, but the point is she spent months helping a fandom kid she barely knew simply because a story had resonated with her and she wanted to share it. That shit is powerful!

So if someone wants to delete—if that’s something they need right now—I believe that is, ultimately, their decision… but please try your hardest to remember that the art you put out into the world is having an impact and people will absolutely miss it when it’s gone. Often to the point of doing everything they can to put it back out into the world even if you decide to take it out. Hold onto that feeling. The love you have for your favorite fic, fanart, meta, whatever it is? Someone else has that for your work too. I guarantee it.

So take things down as needed, but for the love of everything keep copies for yourself. You may very well want to give it back to the world someday.

#fandom #fic things #mymetas #never any easy questions on this blog huh? lol

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ambivalent-anarchy · 4 years

Text

The Spidey Squad Playing Among Us

Masterlist

Welp, this game is all the rave all of a sudden and irdk how since the game's pretty much been here forever lol but it's still fun so I had to jump on the bandwagon and here we are! Make sure you check go out @chaoticpete's new fic. Anyways here it is! If this gets enough likes I might do an avengers headcanon too.

Thanks to @angelsparkers for helping me realize I wasn't writing complete garbage and helping me to get through it even though she didn't even know she was doing that. So yeah thanks for that.

Peter

Crewmate: Peter is that crewmate that will 100% call you out on your bs, because he knows the game a little too well for you to be able to pull anything over him(because of all that free time waiting on patrol). You think all that stuff with the avengers didn't teach him strategy? Ha! This guy is PEAK detective. Gets his tasks done fast and when he's done is probably spending his time monitoring people on security or vitals. It only took him like 2 weeks to memorize all the maps and where everything is, so if you say you were in navigation, you better believe he's gonna ask you what task you were doing there. And if you don't answer to his liking, Peter will sound the "sus" alarm on you in two point five seconds and have everyone voting you out. He's probably the only person that could figure out MJ when she's the impostor. So if you're the impostor, watch your words and make sure your alibis are strong cuz little Petey ain't playin' no games. Definitely gets attacked from time to time by those people that are always like "sMaRt PpL rUiN tHe GaMe"

Impostor: He's pretty much the most average impostor. Sometimes he doesn't know what to say when people call him sus and he'll get voted out because he's being "too quiet" or because Ned keeps defending him. He'll mess up every now and then but for the most part, he's pretty decent. His style is usually to stay in the vents most of the game and kill when only one person's around. He probably bribes Ned to not rat him out by promising him that he won't kill him.

Name: It used to be just Peter, but soon he wanted an actual cool name so he chose Sherlock because of all the times when he was "too smart" and won the game too quickly and people would go "pack it up Sherlock" and vote him out.

Favorite color to be: It used to be red, but he quickly found that the more he was red the more people found him "sus" so now he's usually either blue or cyan

Ned

Crewmate: Pretty average crewmate. 80% of the time is covering for Peter, even if Peter is the impostor. Won't do much calling people out unless he's absolutely sure that he saw a kill or vent. Pretty chill and easily persuadable. You'd definitely want him on your team. If he ever gets wrongfully ejected he's the one that pitifully tries to plead his case saying stuff like "what???" and "guys it's not me!!!!" which doesn't really convince anyone and just makes him look more guilty. He'll still do his tasks after though.

Impostor: He's the impostor that doesn't want to be the impostor. If you're texting then maybe he can hold his own, but if you're doing voice chats, there's no way this guy is getting past ANYONE. He has so many tells that it's ridiculous. Is actually scared to vent too much because he's always paranoid that someone's gonna be right there when he jumps out. 8/10 the crewmates win when he's the imposter because he'll just kill like only two people the entire time or gets caught really early on.

Name: Probably some sci-fi reference like r2d2 or Potter

Favorite color to be: Yellow or white because he says those are the most "innocent" colors and he'll be less likely to get voted if he's those (not true but we'll let him believe it)

Crewmate: Suspicion times 100. Her motto: trust no one. Will get you kicked out in a heartbeat with a quick "trust me. if it's not them vote me next." An absolute unit but will never be caught getting emotional over a game. If she's ever wrongfully ejected her last words will be "whatever. go ahead. vote me and lose." She'll just come back in the next game with a vengeance and false accusations ready, not caring if the entire team loses because of it. She's especially dangerous to have because people usually trust her word. She always finds a way to seem the least suspicious. Though sometimes she'll get suspected because of her quiet nature. There's always that one guy that's ready to go "uR qUiEt ThAt'S sUs!!"

Impostor: If MJ is the impostor, you can just throw your whole phone away. You're not winning that game. Like, ever. She will do whatever it takes to win, even sell out her own her partner. On the off chance that you catch her being suspicious, she'll sabotage a bunch of things so that you can't call meetings and then she'll kill you when no one's around. She is ruthless and will hurt your feelings with the way that she will own everyone in the game. Hardly anyone ever expects her. Thrives on venting. You won't see her you'll just be doing a task and suddenly you'll be dead.

Name: Used to be just MJ but she got annoyed with all the people in the messages who always assumed she meant Michael Jackson or Michael Jordan so she changed it to Michelle

Favorite color to be: She literally doesn't care either way. Won't change the gameplay so why bother? Whatever color she ends up with she'll be fine.

Betty

Crewmate & Impostor: The most average player of them all. She wins some, she loses some. Nice partner to have though, because she'll never give you away. Probably the first to die most times. If she ever gets wrongfully ejected she's the one that uses her last words to say who she thinks it and doesn't even try to plead her case once it starts to look bad for her. She just finished the rest of her tasks.

Name: Probably either her name or some nickname or inside joke. Idk she just seems like the type of person to have a reference to something that absolutely nobody knows

Favorite color to be: Pink. Just because she likes pink.

Flash

Crewmate: Claims things are sus even if they aren't. Will totally be biased based on names. Anybody who knows him will never count him as a credible source. Gets voted out quickly alot because of how annoying he is in the game.

Impostor: He's the easiest to figure out. He's the impostor that obnoxiously accuses literally everyone else. And in all capital letters too. "ITS RED I STG. IF IT'S NOT HIM VOTE ME NEXT!" Calls everyone sus and always claims he's seen people running from the body. He usually self-reports and goes for the easy marks in electrical. He's not that good (even though he thinks he is) and it takes anyone with a brain to figure him out. Peter and MJ are bane of his existence in that game. If he gets wrongfully ejected he'll rage and probably leave the game like the little crybaby he is.

Name: Spideys#1 because he's really just THAT obsessed. Or when he's really feeling "teenage boy" he'll be cOchieman

Favorite color to be: Red because sPiDeRmAn'S hIs BeSt FrIeNd (ahahaha if only he knew)

May

She didn't know this game at all until Peter introduced her to it one day because he was bored. She LOVED it. He had to pry it out of her hands after she kept repeating "Hold on, one more!" So she downloaded on her phone and now she plays it whenever she's bored.

Crewmate: Average. Same as Betty.

Impostor: The way May can actually dominate being the impostor is sort of scary. And she'd always be the last person you'd expect because she just has that trusting vibe about her. Sometimes she'll mess up and give herself away, but for the most part, she's pretty good. Doesn't vent much. Just like Ned, she doesn't trust it.

Name: Madonna

Favorite color to be: She doesn't care much but she prefers to be purple, cyan, or orange

Funny Moment

《Peter calls an emergency meeting 10 seconds into the game》

- Michelle: what

- Betty: what

- Michelle: skip

- r2d2: bro already?

- Sherlock: okay everyone just listen

- k0chieman: bruh

- Michelle: okay listen to what

- Sherlock: flash what task are you doing

- Betty: alright were listening

- k0chieman: the divert thingy in navi

- r2d2: pete what is this

- Sherlock: yeah dude that diverty thingy is the second of two steps

- Sherlock: u never did the first

- Sherlock: which means ur an impostor faking

- Michelle: flash?

- k0chieman: no

- k0chieman: i did do it

- r2d2: the times low we gotta decide guys

- Sherlock: if you did it wouldve taken you 12-15 seconds to get there and were not that far in the game

- Sherlock: u cant already be doing it

- Sherlock: everybody vote flash

- r2d2: petes on x games mode

- Michelle: damn dude

- k0chieman: wtf parker

- Sherlock: bye dude

- Sherlock: worlds greatest detective strikes again

- Michelle: okay calm down pete

《couple seconds later》

. 　　　。　　　　•　　ﾟ　　。　　.

　　　.　　　　　.　　　　　。　　。　. 　

.　　。　　　　　 ඞ 。 . 　　 • 　　　　•

　　ﾟ　　 Flash was An Impostor.　。　.

　　'　　　 1 Impostor remains 　　　。

　　ﾟ　　　.　　　. ,　　　　.　 .

Best Imposter Combos

Peter & Ned: Goes without saying. Nine times out of ten they're in the same room while playing this so they can just talk strategy to each other and take everyone out really quickly. Really annoying for everybody else, but they'll win so they're happy.

MJ & Peter: These two together are a force to be reckoned with. The second they see that they're both impostors they call each other up and get to business like they're on a mission. This stuff is serious. (More for Peter than MJ. She has to keep telling him that it's just a game.) He stays on security stuff, telling her when it's safe, and she racks up the kills. When things get heavy, they sabotage and then go on a spree. These two hardly ever lose. (When the whole squad is together whoever's in charge [if it's not Pete or MJ] usually puts the kill cooldown at max just in case these two get that they can't be at full power)

MJ & Betty: Betty isn't afraid to sacrifice herself so that they'll win and MJ is ruthless and quick with her kills. Both have the smarts to be able to be extremely persuasive and you'd hate for them to pick you to frame. Because being put against those two in the chatroom will lead you nowhere but abyss of space.

May & Peter: Parkers united. 'Nough said.

Tagging: @spideyyeet, @soft-petey, @spidey-reids-2003, @spidey-boy-89, @sovereignparker, @bubblebucky, @underoosjae

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mimzy-writing-online · 4 years

Note

I hope this question isn't too stupid, but you're one of my favorite writing blogs so I'll give it a shot. I want to write a FanFic based on the 1971 version of Willy Wonka. I wanted the story to tell Violet Beauregarde's story, the one that turns into a blueberry. However, I have SOME questions as I'm fairly new to FanFic. 1). Am I better off focusing on each kid's perspective, going back and forth? Or is it good to narrow my focus one one character? 2). Can I give them a character arch, li

(2/3) like Violet's really mean in school but she becomes kind after her experience at the factory. Is that too cliche or predictable? 3). Why does she try waddling away after her blueberry transformation and the Oompa Loompas are singing/dancing around her? They're trying to help her, and I don't really get why she'd do something like that. 4). What are tips to better understand the characters I want to flesh out? I guess it circles back to the last question, understanding their psyche. Yikes

(3/3) Yikes! Super sorry this ask is long. And I'm even more sorry if my questions were lame or you've covered them before. :P. I can overthink at times, ESPECIALLY when it comes to my writing. I'm such a perfectionist storyteller, it's not even funny. I hope my questions aren't bothering you. You're one of my favorite writing blogs, so I figured I could come to you. I apologize in advance for wasting your time. You DO NOT have to reply at all if you don't want to. :P Thanks, have a great week

First and foremost: this is not a stupid question, you are not wasting my time at all. This is actually a rare treat for my blog because I don’t get many asks that don’t involve blindness, though I usually know better how to answer those than I do other questions. So, here we go:

Are you better off focusing on each kid’s perspective, going back and forth? Or is it better to narrow your focus onto one character?

The general rule of writing is to simplify. If two background characters serve a similar purpose, just combine the characters, for example. Slimming down extra scenes that don’t contribute to plot or character development.

However, that advice is meant for people publishing novels, working within an overflowing industry, dependant on sales and royalties. They have to meet whatever industry standards are, like word count or POV types. They have to find someone willing to take them on as a client because they love that book.

Fanfiction is not bound by such nonsense. Fanfiction is a beautifully lawless land where capitalism cannot influence it. What defines what you do with fanfiction is if you enjoy reading it, and if you have the steam to continue a long project.

Some people easily write 200,000k fics within a matter of weeks or months (or in my case, just once, two years). Some people work best with short fics. Both (and everything in between) are wonderful.

So, how much steam do you have for this project? How long do you think you can carry it and still finish it? Because that defines how big you should plan to make this project. If you don’t think you can write a long fic, then maybe just stick to one character.

A compromise between the two is to focus primarily on one character, and examine the other characters more briefly. This could be done in just a single POV chapter, or a handful. This could be done with the characters connecting and seeing the side character through your main character’s eyes, seeing how they’ve changed.

There’s no wrong answer. This fic is for your enjoyment primarily. No matter what you write, it will appeal to at least a few people, if not crowds. But your fun comes first, both literally and figuratively. Write for you, write to explore the story for yourself.

Can you give them a character arc like Violet’s where she becomes kinder after her experiences in the factory? Is that too cliche or predictable?

I wouldn’t call it predictable, because I’d expect everyone to go into completely different directions because they were all such unique and individual people before they entered the factory, and they were foiled by their own quirks.

Violet was mean and fake, she was demanding. I don’t know how much I want to speculate on the plotline you have going for her, how you’ll develop her to make her want to be more kind.

But I would love to speculate on the others.

Agustus Gloop?

I feel like his experience in the chocolate river and almost drowning would make it hard to enjoy chocolate ever again. I think it would be a long time before he had any sweets. Also, because of his weight, I imagine there’s got to be some body-image issues hiding under the surface. I’d also put money on him being bullied, and him acting out against the students who bully him and because of his size he is more intimidating, but that doesn’t stop people from saying things behind his back.

I imagine the chocolate thing is a form of self-comfort. Maybe he turns to other foods to over-eat with to cope. Maybe eventually he figures out that this isn’t helping him. Does he try to replace unhealthy foods with healthier ones? (idk, I have a personal turn off on getting into the concept of dieting, so I’m not going to dig in much there).

I’d like to see him learn to love himself, develop some body neutrality, that his body doesn’t define who he is or what his worth is. That he becomes okay with who he is as he grows up. People who are happy and comfortable with themselves are generally nicer and easier going than people who aren’t. Maybe with some self-love, he’ll be kinder to others.

Veruca Salt?

Okay, I have a confession. My brain thought of her when discussing Violet. I haven’t seen either of the films in years.

Well, let’s thank Wikipedia everyone, the greatest gift of the internet.

Veruca does come across as a spoiled brat. Her parents shower her in material objects, which might mean something. I have a close friend who hates people buying things for him or giving him gifts that cost money. This has to do with a parent buying him things out of guilt after episodes of emotional abuse. I asked him a while back what he wanted for his birthday (I meant baked goods, I bake or cook special meals as birthday gifts for my friends. A has asked for chocolate chip cookies for three birthdays in a row now. Several friends ask for cookies for Christmas). Anyway, my friend had a panic attack and couldn’t respond until an hour later.

Maybe there’s something to that.

What does she think about money as she grows up? Does her love language continue to be gifts? I think it might one day be quality time. Maybe it is now. It’s common for rich parents to be absent and barely spend time with their kids because of work and extravagant social lives that sort of money gives them access to, meaning they barely have time in the day to spend with their kids. Maybe gifts are the only way she can make sure her parents still care, the only way she can get their attention?

Mike Teavee?

Apparently in the movie credits his last name is spelled Teevee. But I’m obsessed with tea (and this is the point where I remember my tea and wonder if I’ve let it go cold because I got too focused. Nope, it’s still there). So it’s Teavee here.

Wikipedia describes him as a young boy who only watches TV, nothing but TV. He’s especially interested in cowboys and Western films. He comes across as a know-it-all. He’s easily annoyed but gets along with others.

Anyone have a guess at where I’m going with this?

Mike is neurodivergent. I mean, that’s my new headcanon. I lean towards ADHD because that’s what I project, but like everything else, his interpretation is in the eye of the beholder. Every viewer sees something different in him.

Some common ADHD (and autism) experiences beyond having a specific interest is how others react to your special interest. You get used to people getting bored when you talk about your interest for the thousandth time, but it’s still important to you, but not to someone whose opinion matters to you. RSD is probably common.

Wikipedia says he’s described as lazy in the books? Common ADHD “symptom,” or rather something that outside viewers label as laziness. Really, he just doesn’t have the motivation to do any of those other things.

And Charlie?

Did anyone think I wouldn’t have any thoughts on Charlie, our hero and protagonist?

Oh no, I have thoughts. Charlie goes to great lengths to set his family up comfortably, he becomes generous with his money. He also knows nothing about running a factory. I’m hoping Willy Wonka gives him some help there. But I bet adult Charlie is a stressed-out workaholic who tries to do everything and thinks he has something to prove, that he’s not just some random lucky child, that he can do this. Charlie totally gets a work-related anxiety disorder.

Those are my thoughts. I still think giving them Violet’s arc isn’t cliche or predictable, but rather completely different from what you think would happen to all those kids.

I mean, maybe a few of them are still little jerks in their adult lives. There’s no one road to grow up on, even if you’re four strangers who shared a similar traumatic experience.

Why does she try waddling away after her blueberry transformation and the Oompa Loompas are singing/dancing around her? They're trying to help her, and I don't really get why she'd do something like that.

They strange looking short men she’s literally never talked to, never seen or heard of before today, who’s already taken away two children by this point, all while singing a song about what terrible children they were.

And she’s scared because her body is doing something strange and scary and awful. She’s scared. She doesn’t know what to do. What will happen if these strange men take her away? She doesn’t know what happened to the other kids.

And they’re not really communicating they want to help, just singing cheerfully about how awful children are.

What are tips to better understand the characters I want to flesh out? I guess it circles back to the last question, understanding their psyche.

A lot of it is just watching real-life people and wondering why they are the way they are. Listening to their reasoning and what they tell you about who they are and where they come from.

I know people who grew up like Agustus with using over-eating as a way to self-comfort, and the bullying they experienced. I know that if a kid was physically bigger than his bullies, maybe he’d fight them to make them stop and leave him alone. People who go through that journey of learning that their body doesn’t define who they are, accepting it because it is theirs and it takes care of them.

(Which reminds me of a post I like that pops around here and there, that positive body image should be about more than how “sexy” your curves make you look. A person shouldn’t have to be sexy to be treated like a person. A person shouldn’t have to be sexy at all if they don’t want to, especially not all the time, and especially not a child. And there are a lot of obese children in the world who don’t have any positive body image messages designed for them)

I learned what my friend’s love languages are and why they have them and what they mean. Which is why I have that theory for Veruca.

Mike is just self-projection and listening to other neurodivergent people when they describe their life experiences or listening to their theories when they say a character is neurodivergent too.

I won’t lie, my theory on Charlie is based entirely on the Avatar: the Last Airbender fandom’s common head-canon that Zuko becomes a workaholic after he becomes Firelord. There might be some canon material in the comics that supports that, but I’ve never seen it. I think Zuko and Charlie have a similar vibe and that those three years Zuko struggled, and Charlie’s entire life before the factory make them both feel like they need to be perfect and do everything right to prove they deserve the job they’re given and that their backgrounds don’t define their worth.

Thank you so much for your ask anon!

And again, you are not a bother. I enjoyed digging into this movie I’d never thought in depth about until tonight. And you’re not alone, lots of writers are overthinkers and perfectionists. You are in good company. Our writing and fanfiction community welcomes and loves you <3

And thank you for your kind words! I’m so happy that you love my blog so much <3 It made my day to read that

Take care anon, and good luck in your writing :)

#writing advice #fanfiction #writeblr #anon #charlie and the chocolate factory #Anonymous

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har-rison-s · 5 years

Text

ask me why

IT: CHAPTER TWO SPOILERS!

request: I love your stan fics!! could you possibly write a sad, angsty one where the reader and stan were childhood sweethearts and they move away and forget each other because of the magic of derry and then when she comes back she’s heartbroken over his death. maybe the scene where they are in the neibolt with the spider-stan(😭😭) and she freaks out and has like a panic attack because she realises he’s not there to help her anymore? idk if that makes sense? thank you either way❤️keep the stan coming!!

A/N: Oh, my goodness. I am the reader and the writer in this one, my feelings are one with her on this one. Oh, god... I'm heartbroken. Also school is tomorrow and I hate gooooiiinnnng but I gotta. Anyways, hope you like this and that it's what you're looking for! Happy reading!

warnings: death, grief, panic attack, descriptions of blood and suicide. Take tissues cause this is very emotional, trust me. Get ready.

IT masterlist

main masterlist

heaven masterlist

gif credit goes to owner, which isn't me!

“The bathtub.” Beverly says into the phone before Patty can. Beverly realises that what she saw twenty seven years ago had happened. What a tragedy. She thinks of how Patty feels and then glances over at Y/N, who waits for Bev to end the call and tell everyone what Patty said. How ever will she tell her? It'll break her heart, it will break the girl herself. “Patty, I'm so sorry, honey. You can call anytime, alright?”

“I'm sorry, I have to go.” Patty tells Beverly and hangs up. Beverly puts her phone in her pocket and turns to her friends. All their faces awaiting, impatient and nervous of what she might say. Is it true what the fortune cookies told them or is IT playing tricks on them?

“Stanley's gone. In--In the bathtub. There's blood everywhere, Patty said.” Beverly says, but she's looking at Y/N while she's talking. Her face falls. Her eyes empty in a second, looking hollow and abundant. Everyone gasps and mutters words of shock and disbelief. In her ears, everything fades out and she can only hear his voice. Stanley.

“Let's go swimming.” He turns to her with the biggest smile. She tilts her head to one side. “I won't scare you, I promise.” Stan raises his arms up in mock defense. She sighs.

“Okay, fine.” Y/N agrees and raises to her feet. The pair lock hands, taking steps towards the lake, skipping here and there. They're both smiling at each other. Y/N leans towads Stanley's shoulder with her head, resting it there and humming.

He didn't scare her in the water for the first time. He usually tells her there's something big underwater and when she looks under to see if there is indeed something, Stan would grab her thighs and she'd scream. No more of that, he said to himself after Y/N told him she's starting to get scared of the water.

She feels her heart being crunched up by someone's hand. Fate, it could be. But it's IT. IT is responsible for this. For all of this.

Her lungs collapse, too. Y/N feels like she can't take breaths anymore, like she never will. Feels like her lungs have closed down, stopped working. Like they're filled with water or something even heavier. Like there's never going to be air in her lungs, like they're filled to the brim. Never possible of saving.

She opens her mouth to try and breathe, but she's hiccuping, coughing almost.

Stanley. Stanley Uris. Her Stanley.

The most beautiful boy she's ever layed her eyes on in her whole life. Anyone she saw as a person of potential interest in her so-far life was lacking something, she realises now. One thing. They weren't him.

His radiant smile that made her smile when she didn't feel like ever smiling again, when she had forgot how to. Lightened up the room and shone like the sun. Made her feel like there was nothing bad in the world.

His voice. The boy could sing, but only she knew that. He never sang in front of anyone else, none of his friends. Only her. And she loved it.

He thought he was bad at singing but God, did he sound like an angel. He was very insecure about it, that's all.

“Sing what you want to. I wanna hear it, whatever the song!” She beamed, resting her head in her hands, her elbows on Stanley's desk surface. Stanley sighs, sitting in a chair not so far from her and his desk. He looks down, lip bitten, deep in choosing the song he could sing.

“Okay, okay,” he says, lifting his head and breathing deeply in and out, preparing himself, “but don't laugh.” Stan points a finger at Y/N. She shakes her head.

“I would never, baby.” She says. “Go ahead.”

Stan takes a breath in and out and, after a few more seconds, starts finally singing. “I love you, whoo-hoo-whoo-hoo, cause you tell me things I want to know,” He sings. He doesn't look Y/N in the eyes as he sings, he focuses on one of the furniture facing him. He's so shy about it, “and it's true, whoo-hoo-whoo-hoo, that it really only goes to show...

“That I know, that I, I, I, I should never, never, never be blue-ooh!” He hits the highnote perfectly. “Now you're mine, my happiness still makes me cry. And in time you'll understand the reason why if I cry, it's not because I'm sad.

“But you're the only love that I've ever had.” He looks at her at once. Because he means the words, wants to sing them to her, wants to tell her those words. They're true.

Y/N smiles wide, happy tears in the corners of her eyes. Stanley smiles wide and rushes over to her. He kneels before her and his face is mischievous, up to something.

“I can't believe,” he resumes singing, a theatrical facial expression on his features, which makes Y/N giggle, “it's happened to me. I can't concieve of anymore,” he extends his arm in the air, “mi-se-ry!” He exclaims, a mock-brave and determined look on his face. As if he was playing Superman, who's flying through the air after saving a particular girl form danger.

Y/N giggles histerically, looking at Stanley and holding his other hand. He drops the act and leans closer into her face. Not too close, not that intimate. At least not yet.

“Ask me why,” he sings quieter, “I'll say I love you,” with each verse, he gets closer and closer, keeping their eyes locked on each other, “and I'm always thinking of you...” Stan drifts off and kisses her on the lips tenderly, sweetly. Just like he sang a second ago.

Her knees buckle in, her feet give out. Gravity or rather, horrible pain and grief, takes over her completely and she's falling down to the ground. In the street, between her friends. All of them immediately get closer to her, huddle around her.

They see the terrifying look on her face. It's everything mixed. Pain, memories, grief, terror, fear, anger, longing... It's all in there, in her wide, wide, as-big-as-buttons eyes. Mouth agape. She looks just like a person having a stroke would look. And her friends are actually scared that she is having one.

“Y/N!” Beverly calls to her, hoping to get her out of this horrid and scary trance. Ben pushes Y/N in a sitting position from behind so she wouldn't be laying on the wet, dirty ground of the Derry street.

She gasps and hiccups and tries to regain control over her body and brain. But her mind can't help but go back to the best memories of her childhood. And her body is completely out of order, out of anyone's control. Her friends try to shake her, bring her back to them pysically first.

The only thing they get from her before Y/N completely shuts down, is one word. “Stanley.” It's a quiet whisper that they barely heard. It was like a mutter between her lips, something meant for only her to hear.

Her wide eyes close instantly and her mouth, too. She's limp in Ben's and Beverly's arms. “No! Y/N!” She exclaims, afraid something serious has happened to her. Some sort of internal, physical damage. But she's having a very pleasant dream, unconscious to her friends.

“Let's see that!” Stanley takes her sketchbook from her, making Y/N gasp and pry after her book, her pencil still in hand.

“I'm not finished!” She exclaims, but it's no use. Everyone's huddled around Stanley holding her sketchbook and already looking at the new drawing she really has not finished yet.

“Oh my God, that is so pretty!” Beverly says.

“I'm the prettiest one, of course, thank you, Y/N.” Richie boasts.

“Then I shall draw your horrible witch nose bigger, Rich!” She says and the kids both stick their tongues at each other, mean faces showing. Y/N comes closer to Stan holding the book.

Everyone's gasping and pointing at themselves in the artwork, saying how alike the drawing is to real life. And though Y/N loves the compliments and thanks them, she really needs to finish the piece so that it could be even more prettier and perfect.

She puts her hand firmly on the sketchbook and pulls it towards herself. Stanley looks at her with his delinquent famous smile and holds the book tight in his hands.

“Give it back, I need to finish it.” She requests. Stan takes the book closer to his chest.

“What will I have for that?” He bargains and she narrows her eyes at the boy.

“If you give it back,” she starts, “I'll give you the whole book. For your own exploitation.”

“Come on! We're hoping for something more enticing, Y/N!” Richie cries and Eddie hits his arm, despite snickering.

“What about a kiss?” Stan suggests and Y/N lets herself smile at him. She throws herself at him, kissing him hard on the lips as they both smile wicked smiles.

“Ew!” Everyone exclaims upon the action and turns away from the couple.

“Guys, they're so cute.” Beverly cheers, but everyone boos her, already finding new things to do. Beverly laughs to herself and turns back to her book in the hammock.

Stanley and Y/N pull apart, smiling and looking at each other with heart eyes and looks of pure gratitude and appreciation. Though their friends exclaim in disgust whenever the two show a bit of affection towards each other, they really love them and can't help wishing for the same kind of love in their lives. They're happy for the most loving best friends in their group, very happy.

“Guys, she's waking up!” Eddie calls out to his friends once he sees Y/N opening her eyes slowly. He hopes she's really waking up, not just a flutter of the eyelids in-between dreams or nightmares. Richie, Bill, Mike, Beverly and Ben come up to the hotel's lounge sofa where Y/N is laying, now conscious.

“Hey, honey,” Beverly tries to smile at her. She takes Y/N's hands between her own, “how are you feeling?” She asks.

“I would love not to answer that question.” Y/N says and sits up. Her friends sigh, somehow relieved by her answer and her healthy look. “How long was I—how long ago—” She can't seem to form the question she wants to ask.

“A couple hours.” Eddie answers her un-finished question. “Do you need some Advil or Morphine?” He questions. Y/N furrows her eyebrows at the man.

“No, thanks.” She says. “So, what are we doing, what's our plan?”

“Well, since Beverly has seen us all die,” Richie starts to say, oblivious that his words might trigger tears and intense emotions in Y/N. Unwantedly, tears start dripping down onto her sweater and jeans in hot streams, “we need to kill the stupid clown this time. Otherwise, we'll die. Just how Bev's seen us die.”

Y/N sobs, pulling her knees to her chest and letting it all out. She sobs and she cries and she hiccups and she wails, heartbreaking sounds for her friends' ears.

“I don't care.” She cries. “I don't care. I'll die, then. I don't care.” She shakes her head, repeating the phrases over and over.

“Well, that was my plan.” Richie admits.

“We can't let you die, Y/N.” Ben tells her. But she doesn't listen. She doesn't want to hear support or any positive comments from anyone now.

“Listen, Y/N/N,” Mike starts to say, sitting closer to her, “there is a way to kill him. For real this time.” This is what makes her look at Mike, or look at anyone, really. He's caught her attention. Is it true?

“Trust us, Y/N. W-W-We can end IT he-here and n-now.” Bill joins in. She looks at him, she looks at Beverly, she looks at Ben, and Richie and Eddie. They're all nodding. Quite sure that there really is a way for them to get rid of this horrid creature that's ruined so many lives. Finally do it. And they get to do it.

No one will know it if they do, no one will congratulate them and put crowns on their heads and give them flowers. But it doesn't matter. They'll be heroes to themselves and to the people who have lost everything because of this stupid killer clown. If they succeed and don't die in the process.

The whole point was to find an artifact from your childhood here. It had to be burned. Y/N's was a portrait of herself that Stan did. He tried really hard. And she doesn't want to burn it now.

She sat in the clubhouse alone, after everyone left, crying. Full-out sobbing and wailing in her deep sorrow. She was completely spent after it, save Pennywise spooking her out of there, the portrait crumpled up in her fist tightly.

IT thought it'd be funny to portray itself as Stanley who was drowning in his own blood and almost taking Y/N with him, if she hadn't ran up the stairs. It's not real, it's not real. Her fear was drowning and losing Stanley. And the fact that one of them came true is just so unacceptably sad. Devastating. (A/N: I want to cry.)

She layed in the grass above the Clubhouse for however long she needed to calm down and pick up her broken pieces, mentally and physically. She slowly rose to her feet and started her way back to the hotel. She thought she saw Bowers on her way back, but she told herself she's just mistaken the man for Bowers. But, when Eddie came out of his room with blood gushing out of his cheek and said that Bowers is in his room, she realised she wasn't mistaken with who she saw.

After an argument and Richie trying to flee the town, the Losers Club reunited and bravely went back into the Neibolt house to kill IT once and for all. Y/N was scared, hollow, but with the realisation and perk that she had nothing to lose anymore. She had lost the most important thing in her whole life. Nothing can be worse than that.

They were a mess. Not five minutes into the trip in Neibolt and they had split up, everything was in shambles and they couldn't get a hold of themselves or each other.

Y/N was crouched down, turned inwards, in the corner of the must-have-been kitchen. Her head between her hands and her eyes on Stanley. Or Stanley's head. The one that now had spider legs grown out of it. His eyes are... horrid. No sign of life or love or anything good. Death, hate, anger, maliciousness. None of these qualities were something that Stan ever contained.

Tears are streaming down her face in a quick pace, scorching her cheeks and eyes, irritating the skin. Her throat is already dry from the screaming and crying for the past twelve hours. It hurts to cry, but it hurts to see... this weird Stanley Uris. She can't help but cry.

Her love. Her life. Her only love ever. The boy that was ready to give her everything he could give from him. The boy who was ready to show her the world, who was ready to take the moon and stars from the sky if she ever asked, the boy who was ready to protect and love her like no one else could ever try.

He's dead. He's dead because of IT and its wrath and its toll on Stanley. How unfair. How unfair for IT to do this to such a caring, innocent young boy. How dare he. Stanley had done nothing wrong in his life to get this end. Stanley hadn't done anything wrong for something or someone to bite him back in the form of IT, a killer clown or a weird-looking woman.

She's filled with fury. She's still crying, still bawling and moaning in emotional pain while her friends are in panic. Stanley's spider form is not getting off Richie. Bill is trying to help him, Eddie's in another corner, frozen in fear, as well. God, he can't even help his friends. He's so scared. His fear and traumatic memories have been so repressed and now they're coming back in a second's time, all at once, and hitting him in the face like a brick. Quite physically.

Y/N picks up a spike from the floor. She figures it must be laying there since Pennywise got it out of his head when Beverly stabbed him. Twenty-seven years ago... When Stan was still alive... When they were all in one piece. Her face twists in utter anger and she growls, almost. Eddie's eyes flicker over to her, scared of her, too. He hopes she's not another form of IT.

Y/n holds the spike in her hands so tight it makes her hand hurt. But she doesn't care. She must do this. At least this. She staggers over the room to where Richie, Bill and Stan's head are with the spike in her hands and, upon reaching them, immediately starts hitting the damn spider-head with the spike's sharp end.

She's screaming and crying and calling IT names, calling the entity out for what he's done, for what he is. Her every emotion is spilling out into each hit and each word and spit of her tongue.

Richie and Bill start screaming, and Y/N tries hard not to hit Richie in the process. The spider-head grows weaker and falls off of Richie, who now has a very bloody shirt. Bill helps him get up, and the men both watch Y/N completely destroying the spider-head with the spike.

She's yelling, she sounds like an animal, there's anguish and rage. The only things they see existing in her. Blood is everywhere, the head is screaming, as well, blood and guts and brains and pieces of spider-legs everywhere. Horrid, disgusting scene all around.

The moment the head is hit to complete pieces is when Y/N finally groans out, relief in the groan, and drops the spike. She collapses on the floor next to the destroyed head, her hand on her stomach.

That was a big thing. A big step. In stepping over her fears and in starting to get over Stan's death. If she's ever capable of that.

“Y/N!” Bill and Richie go over to her, helping her stand up. Eddie's in terrible shock from everything he's seeing, he can't move.

“I'm fine, guys, I'm fine. That just took a lot of strength.” She says and takes a few deep breaths, panting as the two men hold her by her sides and back supportively.

“You're a fucking hero, Y/N.” Richie says. She doesn't say anything, and nor does anyone else for a while. Richie and Bill exchange looks, thinking the same thing.

Y/N could destroy a thing that looked exactly like the love of her life. While her fear is losing him, Stanley dying or just... going away in any other way. She is so brave. Much, much more brave than the two of them combined, at least now. She is so, so brave and strong. She could be the main key to destroying IT when they get to the layer.

A/N: Maybe this was very dramatic, but just... imagine being in the Losers' place. Imagine it, just... swim deep into the thought and concept. It couldn't be otherwise.

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