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drabbles-of-writing · 1 year

Text

Pretending Not to See Your Ghost

AO3

Chapters: 1, 2

Summary: Darius has begun to notice a few...𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 between Hunter and his old mentor. From appearance, to speech, to the smallest of characteristics, he always swears he'll blink, and his mentor will be standing right where Hunter once was, as though nothing had ever changed.

But he's sure it's only a coincidence.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Penstagram, unfortunately, had become more of an eyesore than it used to be.

The Emperor clearly had no understanding of technology, and it became evident to many Coven members that places like Penstagram were practically free-range to do pretty much whatever they wanted. Of course, plenty still used it to find the locations of wild witches, but for quick communications or revealing faces, barely anyone batted an eye. There would be no punishments for it.

Darius tried to use Penstagram for normal things. Occasional pictures, deleting DMs he very much did not want to see, passively aggressively shit-talking his coworkers, and shooting a few quick, non-incriminating messages between himself, Eberwolf, and Raine when needed be.

And then there was Hunter’s account.

He’d only followed it to keep an eye on him. He knew the intricacies of what was and wasn’t allowed on Penstagram, but Hunter might not have. He found it ludicrous to suggest the kid would blurt Coven secrets on his account, but he was still paranoid. The boy thought sunlight was optional on functional growth, he didn’t know what else he’d assumed about life.

Much to his increasing migraine, most of Hunter’s posts were about Flapjack. His profile picture was of his own face, covering only one of his scars, in his Golden Guard attire.

Darius had nearly gotten a heart attack before he saw just how many people assumed Hunter was a fake account. Or some otherwise young child dressing up to pretend as the Golden Guard. He suspected the fact that most of Hunter’s posts were blurry disasters (that, to his credit, did exclude anything else that could be directly linked back to him or the Coven) did quite a bit to aid in this doubt.

No one would find his account on accident, it was far too obscure, and never tagged properly. Darius still monitored it, of course, but he was a little more at ease, figuring they were all in the clear. Even if he wanted to take the boy by the shoulders and plead him to be at least semi-functional with technology.

Then, as though Hunter had sensed Darius staring in dismay at his most recent failure of a post, the boy himself poked his head in through his office door.

“Uh, Darius?” Hunter asked, unsure, and Darius jerked his head up.

He tried not to feel that old ping of nervousness when Hunter was slipping off his mask before he was fully in the office. Everyone knew Hunter’s face in the Coven, this was a normal, good thing. This was not something he had to be wary about others seeing.

“Don’t you have work to be doing?” Darius raised a brow, though he did set his scroll down.

“Uh, well, y-yes, I was just doing that!” Hunter said quickly, and when Darius glanced down, he saw him holding his scroll up to his chest, walking over to his desk. “But then I started getting some messages, and I just wanted to…I wanted to see if these would be of interest?”

Darius, brow still raised, held out his hand. Hunter willingly handed it over without a second thought, Titan below this kid really needed to learn how to be a teenager, and Darius took a look at whatever he was talking about.

It was a DM, with what looked like a conversation between two hex-bots. Darius raised a brow, scrolling up—nope, that was Hunter’s texting. Good grief, it was atrocious.

The other one was a bot, at least. A very obvious one, in fact.

LIke.fabriCS? to muhc woRk ? CLICK HERE!

Hunter seemed to have been trying to respond to the bot, interrogating it about details. To which it fell apart into incoherent, insane texts.

“Hunter, this is a scam.” He deadpanned, though he supposed he could only be so exasperated. The kid had no phone, of course he didn’t know about people trying to hex scrolls.

“Gus said that, too.” Hunter frowned, ears pressing back. “He told me not to click a link?” He added, frowning, face scrunched up.

“The underlined words. Of which he is correct.” Darius said, deciding not to ask who that was as he handed the phone back. “You’d get hexed.”

“Are you sure?” Hunter sounded truly disappointed, looking down at his scroll screen. “I thought more fabrics would be nice, ‘cause you have your own…”

“I have money to get more, just borrow mine.” Darius sighed, pressing his fingers to his forehead. He tried not to feel too twisted up when Hunter looked at him with pure shock. “In the future, just don’t talk to any messages you get that aren’t from your friends.”

“But how could I get hexed through some…underlined words?” Hunter squinted at his scroll, holding his phone up to his face.

“It’s a link, Hunter.”

“Like a chain?”

“Titan’s sake,” Darius groaned, dropping his face into his hand, “it’s like teaching an old man.”

“I’m not old!”

(“You’re such an old man.” Darius snickered, looking from the crystal ball to the face smooshed up against it.

“Hey!” Jasper barked, finally tearing away from it to send a pouting glare, of which Darius could only barely restrain a laugh. “I’m not old! I’m practically your age!”

“Oh, so now you’re my age?” Darius scoffed, rolling his eyes and leaning back, smug. “Is that why you hate being called ‘sir?’”

“I’m as spry as a fox-spitter, I’ll have you know.” Jasper huffed, placing a proud hand to his chest. “These crystal thingies are just needlessly complicated.”

“It’s only kind-of new tech.”

“It’s confusing, is what it is. I’m convinced you’re just messing with me.”)

“Figure of speech,” Darius waved it off, sure his mouth was pulling at an uncomfortable angle, “just be more careful in the future. Titan’s sake, you don’t need to fret about getting your own things.” He rolled his eyes. “I have more than enough to share. I already gave you a scroll.”

“Well…yeah.” Hunter hunched his shoulders a tad, looking from his scroll to Darius. “I-I just…you already got me the scroll, so…you’ve gotten me enough.”

“I’ll say when I’ve gotten you enough. This is not even close to the limit.” Darius said, firmly, if only because it made him feel…odd. This didn’t sound the least bit like a spoiled brat. “Now, scurry back to that important work you were having with your friends on Penstagram.”

“Acquaintances.” Hunter reminded, more of a grumble, than anything, neatly tucking his scroll underneath his cloak and into a pocket.

“No, they’re not. Run along.” Darius waved his hand, going back to pretending he was working on his own papers. “I’m sure teenagers like you have much to talk about.”

“I’m…working on that.” Hunter hummed, frowned so thoughtfully like he was solving some secret that it had Darius snorting, watching him turn away and pull his mask back down again.

Hunter’s fingers lingered, he noticed, over the nose. The tips scraping down slightly, pausing as though thinking something over. It was so painfully familiar he half expected to see a tangle of uncombed, wild hair when Hunter turned back to him.

But it was only his normal, somewhat-combed hair. Of course it was.

“Um, thank you.” Hunter mumbled, nodding jerkily. “For-for the assistance.”

“Happy to help.” Darius said, and if anyone said he sounded softer, they were a liar. “You can continue checking-in sometime in the future.”

It sort of slipped out. Not that he didn’t mean it, but he hadn’t really thought about saying it. The words were simply out there before he could think much. Though, he couldn’t really find himself regretting it when Hunter perked up, just the tiniest bit more interested.

Perhaps that should’ve been harder to tell, with his movements so subtle and face covered. But Darius liked to think himself an expert in such mannerisms.

“Thank you.” Hunter repeated, sounding suspiciously genuine, bringing his hood up. His small strand of hair still hung free, uncovered as he pulled open Darius’s door.

It looked a lot like Jasper’s, he noticed. There was always that one strand of hair poking free, refusing to obey the chaos of the rest of his mane. Hanging right in front of his face, bothering him to hell and back.

Then, Hunter was out the door, and Darius was alone in his office.

He shook off the weight on his chest, though it lingered like fog, and reshuffled his papers.

Perhaps he should do some real work.

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kraviolis · 11 months

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often times i scare my reflection

(The Owl House)

Rating: Teen Relationships: [All Gen] Hunter & Luz, Hunter & Gus, Luz & Gus Words: 2.3k Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Dissociation, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Post-Day of Unity, Injured Luz, Protective Hunter Chapters: 1/2 Summary:

It was the middle of the afternoon just a second ago, right? No, no, Hunter knows that hours have passed, but… what happened? He can’t remember how he got here.

AO3 LINK

___________

No one notices how, on the Day of Unity, Hunter just... freezes for a second. Barely a second.

No one notices him blinking his eyes rapidly for no apparent reason, nor do they see how his entire demeanor suddenly changes . The look in his eyes shifts, going from anxious but determined to confident, calculated, cold. His body language changes from tense and shaky to relaxed yet braced for impact, as if nothing could hurt him.

As if he were an entirely different person.

Then, they all get stuck in the Human Realm, and for weeks, Hunter gets to just... breathe.

Living with all his friends have been some of the best moments of Hunter’s life. After the first couple weeks of adjustment, his mind feels clearer than ever. The night terrors turn into nightmares and eventually become nothing but bad dreams. Seeing Belos behind his eyelids every night doesn’t scare him as badly, not when Hunter knows he’s safe from him, now. Flapjack deciding to sleep right next to him every night helps, too.

Hunter doesn’t even get anymore of those unnerving moments where he’s getting ready for bed, but realizes he can't really remember what happened that day. As in, he knew that he followed his daily routine, or on the weekends he knew he’d gone on a mission for his Uncle, but recalling the details was like trying to catch smoke. He could only ever hold onto hazy remnants, at best.

He'd always chalked those kind of days up to lack of sleep, or a recent head injury, and carried on– but in the Human Realm he doesn't have to fight just to survive anymore, and if he stays up too late reading then he can sleep in as long as he likes.

(He rarely does sleep in. He likes the stability of his morning routine, even if it has him waking at six in the morning.)

It’s a month into their stay when Hunter finds himself in the kitchen helping Camila with the dishes after lunch.

He dries each one she hands him with a towel and puts them back in place in the cupboard. The up-beat music that Camila absentmindedly bounces on her heels to, the low hum of the kitchen light that only he and Amity seem to hear, and the repetitive movement of wiping down each dish all work in tandem to relax Hunter’s ever-tense shoulders. It even seems to soothe the background anxiety that has been one of the few constants in Hunter’s life.

Then, Camila’s scroll– no, her phone buzzes on the counter.

“Ah, can you get that for me?” She asks him. “I would, but my hands are all soapy.”

When Hunter picks up the box and answers the call, it's Vee's voice that he hears.

When he hears how panicked she sounds, it’s like a bucket of ice water has fallen on him out of nowhere and soaked him to the bone.

Hunter doesn't even process Vee’s words. All he hears is the way her voice shakes and he just… blinks.

Then, he blinks again, and there is no phone in his hand. Vee is not talking in his ear. There is no kitchen counter in front of him, no damp kitchen towel still in his hand.

It takes a second for Hunter’s brain to catch up. It feels like he’s just used Flapjack’s flash-step accidentally, but without the sensation of actually moving anywhere.

He blinks again and his mind clears. His vision focuses, and Hunter finds himself in the living room.

It’s night out. The lampposts lining the street outside can be seen through the living room windows, the bright yellow lights contrasted against the starless night sky. The lights inside are turned off, bathing the room in shadow save for the light coming from the television.

Hunter is sitting on the couch, staring at the screen. Some kind of late night comedy show is on and the quiet sound of the audience laughing echoes in his ears.

He looks down at his hands. They remain steady as he lifts them off his lap, not a single tremor going through him. His knuckles are bruised and one of them has a thick red scab covering it. It confuses him.

"Hunter?"

He whips his head around, startled, and finds Luz sitting on the couch next to him, staring at him.

The first thing he notices is that she's hurt . Even in the dark with only the TV's light, he can see the dark bruising around one of her eyes, the bandage covering her split lip, and the brace on her wrist.

(It was the middle of the afternoon just a second ago, right? Wasn’t she supposed to be at her human school? No, no, there’s no way. Hunter knows hours have passed since then, but… what happened ? He can’t recall how they got here.)

Hunter doesn't say anything to Luz when he reaches out with both hands and grabs her face. Gently tilting her face up, he tries to get a better look at the black eye. It’s already healing well. Most of the swelling that should be there is absent, which has to mean it's gone down some.

“Come on, Hunter,” Luz laughs a little at his close examination and pushes his hands away. "I already told you earlier that it looks worse than it feels, remember?"

No, he doesn’t.

"R-Right," Hunter says, instead. "Sorry."

"Sorry for what?" She asks. "You're not the one who did it."

“I'm sorry I couldn't prevent it."

"You're fine ," She shoves him playfully with her shoulder. "It's not like you were Head of the Oracle Coven . Besides, I don't think the jerk’s even gonna look at me now, not after what you did to him."

She looks at him with... he thinks it's gratitude? Hunter forces a smile back at her, going along with it.

(What did he do? Did he hurt someone? He doesn’t remember hurting anyone, but the way his hand throbs as the thin skin stretches over the knuckles is proof otherwise.)

"Oh, is Hunter back?"

Hunter looks up and sees Gus in the entryway of the living room. He's already dressed for bed and holding a freshly topped up bowl of popcorn.

"Seems like it!" Luz replies with a thumbs up and scooches over to make room for Gus, who hands her the bowl.

" Finally ," Gus sighs, ignoring the space made for him for now and flopping directly onto both of their laps. Luz scrambles to save the popcorn from being thrown everywhere. "I thought you were going to be gone for ever , dude."

"I didn't... go anywhere?" Hunter tries not to phrase it as a question, but he’s not actually sure if he did or not.

“You were here, sure, but not here, y’know?” Gus pokes his forehead, making Hunter frown. “You were being all broody, like how Mattholomule gets if I didn't respond to his messages fast enough.”

Hunter makes a face, offended for both himself and whoever Gus was talking about. “I’m not broody.”

“Yeah, now you aren’t, but you have been for the past five hours, man.” Gus sits up, fitting between him and Luz. “It wasn’t like you.”

Hunter frowns deeper at this. “Sorry.”

A piece of popcorn hits his face and bounces to the floor. He turns to squint at Luz.

“Stop apologizing.” She demands and tries to hit him with another piece but Hunter catches it easily. “We were worried, not mad.”

“It’s nothing to be worried about.” Hunter insists, dropping the popcorn in Gus's open mouth. “I sorta just… check out for a while, sometimes. It’s not a big deal.”

“And exactly how often is ‘sometimes’ ?” Gus questions slowly, eyeing him dubiously. Luz takes a second to mute the TV with the remote.

“This is the first time it’s happened in a while, actually.” Hunter realizes as he’s saying it. “It used to happen way more, back when I was still…”

“Still working for Belos.” Luz finishes his sentence, ever insightful. “That makes… a lot of sense, actually.”

Hunter sits up a little straighter, alarms ringing in his head. “What do you mean?”

“You were being sorta…” Gus trails off, rocking his hand back and forth in the air. “Coven scout-y?”

“Golden Guard-y.” Luz corrects. Hunter doesn’t like the way his chest tightens just hearing his old title.

“Ehh, I think he was being more of a big bad soldier-guy than the Golden Guard.”

“Gus, you’ve never really known what he was like before you met him.”

“Oh, riiiiight ,” Gus wiggles his fingers in Hunter's direction threateningly, like he was getting ready to cast a spell. “You mean before we totally corrupted him with our dangerous wild magic .”

Hunter leans away, grimacing. “That's not what happened.”

“That is exactly what happened,” Luz declares. “And now you’ve gone from ‘bad but sad’ boy into a ‘soft but sad’ boy. Except for earlier.”

“Yeeeaaah…” Gus makes a face.

“It sorta felt like the only thing stopping you from ordering people around was not having the mask.” Luz continues. “I haven’t really seen you act like that since Latissa .”

“I…” Hunter clenches his jaw and looks away. “I’m sor–”

Out of nowhere, Luz kicks his leg hard. He yelps, quickly pulling it closer to him to rub at his calf, and glares at Luz. “What was that for?!”

She just glares back, her swollen eye negating half of her intimidation factor. “I swear on King’s dad – if you apologize one more time , I will sic Willow on you.”

Gus nods in approval. “She’ll make you run laps while yelling about how great you are. Trust me.”

“That’s– I–” Hunter sputters, his cheeks and ears warming at the thought while indignation rises in his throat. “You just said I was acting the same as back when I was trying to hurt you!”

“ No ! I meant like, the way you were talking or– or how you moved ! Your body language !” Luz explains, throwing her hands up. “I did not mean that I actually thought you might hurt me!”

“But I could've!” He insists. “Like Gus said, I wasn't exactly all there .”

Never . Hunter hears himself think. I could never hurt Luz.

You don’t know that, he sighs internally.

“Hunter, you literally had to get pulled off the guy who jumped me.” Luz makes a gesture demonstrating her pulling something, as if acting out the scene. “If anything , you were acting sorta like when you fought Kikimora so I could escape with the palismen.”

Hunter freezes, his argument dying in his throat. The memories he has of that fight are… disjointed. Some parts are clearer than others, like him telling Luz his name, and how he knew he had no true desire to hurt the human despite the fact he was going to fail his mission because of her. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” she huffs. “ Oh .”

“So, I wasn't…”

“No, you weren’t being a jerk.” Gus pats his arm in reassurance.

“Do you not remember?” Luz tilts her head at him, clear concern leaking into her tone. Hunter avoids her gaze.

“I– I do!” He says quickly. Luz and Gus share a look and then both stare at him without an ounce of belief between them. Hunter rubs the back of his neck. “It’s just– Usually, when I snap out of it, my memories aren’t this… blurry. It’s never really bothered me so much. Today was a little more stressful than usual, I guess.”

“ I'll say,” Luz groans, settling back against the couch. “It's just my luck that I get a new bully here who turns out to be worse than Boscha .”

“Hey, we still got your back.” Gus assures her, and Hunter nods. “That guy’s not gonna bother you again.” Luz smiles gratefully at the both of them.

Hunter lets himself sink into the cushions and swallows a groan as he relaxes, feeling every little ache. The one knee he injured years ago but never quite healed right throbs slightly, so he adjusts it to be more comfortable.

Even if he doesn’t really remember today, it’s obvious that his body does . All the aches and sore muscles make him regret slacking on his workout regiment.

“Hunter,” Luz catches his attention back. “Can I ask you something?”

He blinks at her. “Sure.”

“Has this whole checking out thing you apparently do been happening for your whole life?”

“I think?” He tilts his head and brings a hand to his chin in thought. “I didn’t notice until only a year or two ago, but now that I think about it… I’m pretty sure it has.”

“Do you know if it’s like, y’know, a Golden Guard thing?” Luz asks, chewing the inside of her cheek.

She’s gotten good at dancing around what she’s truly asking without giving anything away. Gus just accepts the question at face value, watching him curiously for the answer.

“I… don’t know. It wouldn’t surprise me if it was .” Hunter admits with a grumble, picking at the scab on his knuckle idly. “Especially considering all the other problems I have just from being one.”

“I don’t think it’s a problem ,” Gus says firmly as he leans into him, grabbing Hunter’s arm to hold. “I think it’s just another weird Hunter thing that you do. Like how you can nap standing up, or when you talk to yourself sometimes!”

“Yeah!” Luz agrees. “Eda always said that doing something strange and off-putting but ultimately harmless is good for the soul.”

Hunter smiles a little. “Thanks, guys.”

When Luz unmutes the TV, it’s not long before all three of them fall asleep against each other.

It doesn’t happen again for the rest of their stay in the Human Realm.

(At least, not in any noticeable way.)

#the owl house #the owl house fanfiction #hunter #the golden guard #hunter noceda #luz noceda #gus porter #toh #hunter toh #thanks to them #fanfiction #my fics #my writing #the owl house fanfic

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snortlaughs · 2 years

Text

miracle

fandom: the owl house

pairing: none! please don’t tag as ship!

characters included: ler!hunter, lee!darius

word count: 949

genre: fluff!

warnings: none

author’s note: at the time that this fic takes place, darius and hunter are both still in the emperor’s coven and living at the emperor’s castle. hunter is oblivious to belos being... belos.

hunter and darius comfortably sat down together on darius’ bedroom floor and played hexes hold’em.

darius was winning, but that was only because hunter was distracted.

he learned something quite… curious… about darius earlier that day, and it was all he could think about.

he and raine were chatting over some juice boxes, and it came up that darius is ticklish.

hunter nearly spat out his apple blood when he heard this.

“b-but… darius is so tough!” he sputtered, feeling awestruck. “he can’t be—”

raine abruptly cut him off.

“don’t be ridiculous, you little brat,” they said with a chuckle. “even the baddest witches out there are ticklish. i know a few others that are, too.”

hunter could have sworn that he saw a subtle flush meet their cheeks when they said that, but that wasn’t the point.

“little prince?” darius said, waving a hand in front of hunter’s face.

hunter jumped in surprise and blinked at the man in front of him.

he had been lost in thought.

“are you okay?” darius asked, grabbing hunter’s hand of cards and shuffling them into the large deck. he wasn’t playing, anyway, so it was no big deal.

“your smile is a bit more annoying than it usually is, hunter,” the man sneered as he put the deck of cards back into the box. “what are you thinking about?”

hunter smirked smugly and rested his chin in his hands.

“it’s funny you should ask me that, darius~!” he said, already starting to tease. this was a bold move, considering that raine could have been pulling his leg.

“i heard from a little birdie that someone is ticklish.”

“oh, did your secret palisman tell you that?” darius joked, feigned confidence in his voice.

he attempted to keep his cool, and he thought he was doing well.

surprisingly well, actually.

however, hunter wasn’t afforded the time to give a witty response.

immediately following his sharp jab about flapjack, his hair spewed a small glob of abomination that landed on his bed sheets.

hunter looked at the groaning glob, astonished, and slowly turned his head back to darius — who’s face was completely burning up.

“i thought that i was getting better at controlling the hair thing...” darius thought, running his hand over his beard in embarrassment.

hunter pointed at the purple mound on the quilt.

“that only happens when you’re nervous, darius… do you have something to be nervous about~?” he said, wiggling his fingers.

oh, titan. this is bad.

“kid, i-if you do this, i swear i’ll get you back,” he stammered as he started to scoot away from hunter, who was getting increasingly excited.

“we’ll see about that~!” hunter sing-songed as he pounced, knocking darius over and digging his stealthy fingers into his ribs.

hunter was now sitting on darius’ belly; he was trapped.

nothing could have prepared hunter for what he was about to see and hear.

immediate hysterics.

“HUHUHUNTER!” darius screeched, his whole body completely overtaken by the tingly sensations from hunter’s hands. “I SWEHEHEHEAR!”

he tried to push hunter off of him, but his arms were extremely weak already — and, hunter was actually really strong.

emperor’s coven training was intense, after all.

darius would never outwardly praise him like that, though; his ego would get far too big.

anyways, darius’ boisterous laughter filled the bedroom.

“wow, darius, you are really ticklish~!” hunter teased, alternating his hands all over darius’ torso. “and such a strong guy like you... wow, it would be baaad if this information got into the wrong hands...”

“DOHOHOHON’T — DON’T YOU DAHAHARE!” darius pleaded, barely able to speak through his dorky laughter.

speaking of, his laugh was so... childish. not to mention, it was contagious. it was completely ridiculous. he gasped, wheezed, snorted, hiccuped; everything.

“titan, darius...” hunter said, unable to hold back his own giggles. “with a laugh like that, i am surprised anyone takes you seriously. it’s a miracle that you’re a coven head~!”

hunter’s hands darted up to darius’ underarms.

he didn’t think that it was possible, but darius became even more inconsolable. at this point, he was legitimately unable to speak; he just laughed and laughed.

his smile was... so big. he really looked happy. it was hard to believe that he wasn’t enjoying this at least a little bit.

hunter, feeling merciful, removed his hands from darius’ body.

“it’s not as fun when you can’t talk. i can’t hear you try to get your words out~!” hunter said, triumphantly crossing his arms over his chest. “that was fun.”

darius gasped for air, and slowly lifted his head to attempt to glare at hunter.

unfortunately for him, his attempt was unsuccessful. he couldn’t muster anything close to a negative emotion, much less show it on his face. when he tried, all he could do was smile.

“pff— hehehehe!” darius chuckled, covering his mouth with his hand.

“what are you laughing about now?” hunter said, unable to suppress a grin.

he looked at darius’ face, admiring his smile.

a real, genuine smile... hunter had never seen darius like this before.

he never knew that darius had dimples.

darius took a second to compose himself and to think about how he would respond to hunter’s question.

there was no way that he was going to be honest and say that he... had fun.

instead, he just ignored it and countered the question with something stronger.

“you heard what i said, little prince. i’m going to get you back. you better start running now.”

hunter’s eyes widened with the realization of what he just got himself into, clumsily falling off of darius’ tummy and trying to get away.

of course, to no avail.

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sansxfuckyou · 1 year

Text

I'm immune, remember?

Summary: He's had this immunity for so long that it never crosses his mind that it could fade out, and because of that, it catches him off guard when it does.

Warnings: Fourth degree burns, screaming, hospitalization, blood loss, check tags for further warnings.

Authors Note: Hunter needs therapy, whether or not I'll give him therapy is another story, @sobredunia did the Spanish bits so I wouldn't make an ass out of myself and I totally fucked up the burns thing, I didn't do enough research to know fourth causes charred skin, but we can ignore that due to how he got said burns, once again, I take reblogs as a form of currency over likes

Hunter was home alone.

Camila had work, Luz was showing Amity the library, Vee was hiding in the local creek whilst Gus and Willow had a day of laser tag planned for weeks.

So it was just Hunter.

Well, just Hunter and his thoughts, his horrible, horrible thoughts crafted of horrors no one should endure. He can ignore them now though, he's been getting better at that as a whole and he's proud of himself for that.

The quietness of the house in itself is a little bit annoying as he tries to make the day go by faster. He does art, scribbling little things in the back of his books, he makes himself a grilled cheese sandwich, mozzarella and blue, he checks the temperature the way Camila taught him, splash water on the pan instead of pressing a finger to the metal. He rummaged through Luzes room as well, making sure to put everything back the way it should be, no one has to know he accidentally read every page of her journal.

He watched TV, finding Guses adorably labeled neon green and neon pink diary, it had unicorns on the cover, in between the cushions when he went on a search for the remote. Hunter did not read that one, because he had a trust with Gus, but he couldn't resist reading a few entries of Willows journal, which he found wrapped in the vines of a potted plant, he had a hard time putting it back. Now he was hooked on learning more about his friends (siblings?), so his search began, it was mostly fruitless aside from the undeniable abuse he uncovered after reading Amitys diary. Vee didn't have a journal, a diary, or anything of the sorts, he knew that, instead she had a notebook full of dots and dashes he couldn't decipher very well.

His head is full of thoughts, bouncing back and forth and back and forth like a game of ping pong. He can practically hear his skull rattle every time a thought hits the wall of his skull, its weird. Eventually, after a short conversation with Flapjack, he steals Luzes cat headphones and hooks them onto his laptop, trying to drown out the thoughts with music. It works, barely, he doesn't know how, but listening to songs with a lot of words he would most definitely not be repeating in front of Camila got the thoughts out of his head.

And without those thoughts in his head, he could think of the fact it was nearly five, and his family would be home at six, hungry. So he spent some time thinking of what he could cook without triggering anything and in a large enough quantity for seven people. He just now realized Camilas struggles, how hard it was to deal with six kids, damn, damn he's so gonna make her a thank you card soon, maybe start on it after he makes soup.

Hunter heads to the kitchen, humming a little tune without any rhythm to it, his eyes are closed as he swings open cupboards around the room, opening the fridge last. He doesn't realize it, but even as hes doing the most menial parts of cooking, hes dancing a little bit. Swaying his hips in tune with the knife going up and as he chops vegetables, tapping his toes and snapping his fingers as he fills a pot with broth, chirping as he flicks the burner. Of course, when the chirp escapes he freezes up entirely, unaware he could make that sound, so he does it again, and it sounds more like a chirrup. He grins to himself as he continues to dance around the kitchen and chirp out a tune as he watches the dishes, making sure that there would be enough bowls for everyone.

He knows that he likes cooking in the human world, where the ingredients don't scream in agony as he prepares them, he really likes that the ingredients no longer moan when he eats one raw. The only good thing coming out of scream cheese moaning is that he could understand a vampires mental anguish when their meal is enjoying being bitten.

The gurgle of boiling water catches his attention and he stops dancing, but he can't help a little shimmy as he walks on over to the pot and who can blame him? No one can, because hey man, no one was around to see him do a little shimmy as he heads over to the pot and goes to check the temperature. First he contemplates whether or not he should go ahead and grab a thermometer, then he pulls off his glove, holds his hand over the steam, plunges it in and it takes a millisecond, but then he can gauge the temperature.

And thats hot, oh damn, shitfuck, wow, wowie that waters more than hot enough, oh shit he is screaming his throat raw.

Hunter yells and shouts in agony as tears roll down his face like tar and he yanks his hand from the pot knocking it over in the process, boiling water spills his chest and runs down his legs. He tumbles to the ground and everything that was hit fucking hurts, just breathing hurts as cotton tears against the heavily burnt skin and he tears off his shirt going to stand only to flinch as jean tears into skin. He's quick to shed those as well as he stares in horror at his scarred form, now its blistering, red and probably full of soon to form pustules and he is not looking forward to that.

His breathing is labored, panting even and Flapjack is quick to flutter over in a flurry of panicked chirps, when he lands on Hunters shoulder though, he isn't greeted smoothly. Instead he's greeted with a yelp of pain from his witch and Hunter has to swat him away because the pressure hurts so much and when he tries to turn on the tap (cold water helps burns, Camila said), it hurts to much. So instead of hunching awkwardly between the dual sink setup in the kitchen, he's whining and occasionally screaming as he stumbles over to the bathroom, Flapjack follows.

He collapses onto the door, heaving his breathes in and out as hard as he can and everything hurts, hurts even more when the door falls out underneath him and a blister bursts. He hisses in sheer agony as serum and pus oozes from the now turn open skin, Flapjack starts running cold water and the sound helps, it drowns out his panicked thinking. His breathing slows, the pain still goes on, but after a few minutes of just plain, hurting, he manages to stand and hobble to the ice bath Flapjack managed to run for him.

He turns off the faucet and grimaces as a few more blisters on his fingers and palm pop before he simply drops himself into the frigid water, his body convulses slightly due to the sudden shock. He just sits in the freezing water, nearly naked, but it almost looks like he's covered in blood, or that his skin is 3D and bumpy, his scars look intriguing with the blisters new landscaping of his epidermis. He runs a hand over the somewhat soothed skin, it still hurts, but the pain itself hit its peak and has begun to stop hurting. He's disappointed he left the burner on, the house could be burning down as he sits in the porcelain basin, trying to quell the pain.

He doesn't even know how long he lies in that bath, doing nothing but begging that Titan makes it stop aching. He does know that his family could get home any minute, and that a good deal of his siblings are going to desire a soak, but he can't bring himself to clean himself off. Instead all he can do is try and move, but that hurts to much, so he tears open more blisters, most only have pus and serum, but a few have blood, staining the water. He feels almost light headed when he's ripping open the blisters on his torso, tearing apart skin because its numb despite knowing he should just drain them instead.

The distinctive sound of a door opening and then slamming shut followed by the murmur of his friends, his family, and he panics, chirping for Flapjack to shut the bathroom door, the cardinal doing as instructed. Once the palisman stops flapping his adorable, little wings, they are both completely silent, listening to muffled chatter and footsteps go by. Then a scream, silence, hurried footsteps, gasps of fear, then more footsteps, faster and closer until a bang on the door, followed by the jostle of a handle.

"Don't come in!" Hunter panicked and he spoke rapidly, shooting straight up from the now bloodied water, his palisman chirps in agreement, there was a very short break of silence before a reassuring voice speaks.

"Hunter, are you okay?" Luz asked, tapping on the door, leaving the handle still as she does so, he can hear Camila murmuring that she has an ambulance on speed dial.

"I'm fine, I just lost track of time, I'll be out in a minute," Hunter said, he grips the porcelain, most likely stained, and instead of pushing himself up, he just sits there, as though waiting for a response.

"We saw the pot on the ground, and the water as well, the sauce started boiling over, we're worried about you," Luz said, her tone was soft as she spoke and it was making Hunter second guess his choice of sitting in tub of icy water and bleeding out.

"No, it's fine, I can clean it up later," Hunter said before he tried to stand up, blood rushed to his head, or it tried to, the lack of blood everywhere had him far to light headed to even stand, he collapsed with a thud and a splash, some of his body on the edge of the bath.

"Hunter I'm coming in now, Luz, prepare to dial," Camila said before opening the door, Hunter was to out of it to care though as he wheezed for breath.

The instant halt in everything for a second before he was hoisted from the water by a shockingly strong grasp and lied out on the ground, wrapped in a towel he shrugged off. It was all to much, his blood was oozing from his skin as a worried expression met his gaze, Camilas, he had no clue she was strong enough to pick him up. She's crouched beside him, Luz is standing at the door while Amity tries not to let Gus or Vee see him, Willow is just staring, he looks to the ground in shame.

"Hunter, what happened?" Camila asked as she wrapped the towel around his agitated skin, he hissed and she loosened it a bit, still picking him up, one arm supporting his back, the other under his knees, he felt so confused as blood gathered at his lowest point and oozed from the torn skin, dropping to the ground in thick streams and drops.

"I was checking the water temperature, and it was hot, and I wasn't safe, and everything started to bubble up, I think I'm dead," Hunter said, his voice was slow in some spots and fast in others, Camila still understood as she ushered him out of the room, pushing past her mostly adopted children, "am I dead?"

"No, Hunter you are not dead," Camila said, rushing down the stairs to the door, Luz followed, so did Willow and Vee, all of them worried, Gus saw the blood on the floor before he followed with Amity, "Luz tell them its burns, third degree, fourth maybe."

Luz could only get out a nod as she pressed talk and held her mothers phone to her ear, waiting patiently for someone to pick up while Camila rushed down the stairs. Instead of continuing to coddle Hunter like hes some sort of animal, which, he would never tell anyone, he was rather enjoying, Camila set him down on the couch and left to get him a cup of water. It took mere seconds for his family to crowd him and voices to become abundant as they surrounded him, and he could only mumble out half answers as his blood soaked into the cotton of the towel. When Camila returned she had to usher everyone else out of the room except for Luz who was trying to hold her voice steady as she spoke into the receiver, Hunters grasp on the cup was shaky as he tried to sip from it, the cold water a nirvana.

"La ambulancia estará aquí pronto," Luz said, her voice was fast, she reverted to her native tongue as well, a habit, a nervous tic if you will, and Camila knew to return in that language Hunter was yet to understand called Spanish.

"Que tan pronto?" Camila asked, her voice was smooth, as though she had gone through events like this before, and she had, she's had dying pets thrusted into her hands to save and this was just another dying animal to save, but she didn't realize that was her modus operendi at the moment.

"Diez minutos dijeron," Luz said as she nervously paced, she couldn't help it, fiddling with the key chains on her bag, "Hunter… Hunter estará bien? I, I mean Will Hunter be okay?" She had to pause her speech, remembering that no one else would understand her than Camila.

"Sí, Hunter will be fine," Camila said, her voice held a faint ache in it as she pressed the towel tighter around Hunters agitated form, to keep the blood in where it belongs, he writhed in her grip though, even as she tried to keep him calm and distracted without giving him to much to focus on.

The three sat in silence, unable to much but listening to their own pounding heartbeats as Hunter bled out on the couch and his burns soaked deeper into his muscles, scar tissue would take forever to form and forever to fade, if ever. He was mumbling a bit, shuddering here and there, the occasional chirp, it was concerning to say the least, he'd never experienced blood loss like this in his life up until this point. Then a pounding on the door and Luz raced to answer it as Camila picked up Hunter again, wrapping him in a blanket as well so he wouldn't freeze. She carried him to the ambulance, refusing to set him down and cursing relentlessly in Spanish whenever someone tried to tell her to calm down or put Hunter on a cot, she had to place him down eventually though.

Luz came as well, sitting beside Camila silently as one of the workers tended to Hunters wounds best as possible, the boy had passed out while being carried so he wasn't awake to shoot curses as he grimaced. Luz ended up leaning into her mothers side, an arm wrapped around her shoulders, a ding on her small phone, she pulled it out, more dings and all of her friends were panicking. It sounded like Willow and Gus were the most worried, they all wanted to know what happened to Hunter, whether or not he was gonna be okay. Luz felt so guilty to be the one in the ambulance with him, even though she knew his burns were going deep as fourth and potentially going deeper, she didn't know how burns worked. Hunter could be dying right now and they don't know whether or not he is and that is fucking scary, you know, watching a sibling die, nothing could be scarier right now for Luz or Camila, to watch another family member die.

"Please don't let him die, ambulance person, he has a lot of family at home who need him alive," Luz said, her voice was so quiet she wasn't sure if the paramedic had heard what she said, but she hoped so as her thumbs wavered over the keys to respond to any of her family.

"We'll try kid, that's what we do," the paramedic responded, their tone was calm, when they looked up to find Luz silently crying, tears rolling down her cheeks like melted butter, they gave a small lilt in their demeanor from calm to disheartened, "we have a vending machine at the hospital, right outside of the front doors, if you get hungry."

"Thank you, we'll check it out when we arrive," Camila said as Luz started to type out a message to Amity, she would be good at keeping everyone calm with the news, hopefully.

Luz: were still on our way to the hospital Amity: Hes okay right?! Amity: Please please tell me hes okay Luz: we dont know yet tell the others we should have news in the morning Amity: The morning? Luz: me and mama will stay in case he wakes up Amity: okay

A gust of cold wind and the back doors were opened, they had arrived in the loading bay, a dutiful nurse was already waiting to help unload the patient. Even as the paramedic and the nurse ran fast, Camila and Luz were swift enough to keep up, with the help of gylphs of course, but they couldn't bear to let Hunter wake up alone. Soon enough they hit a barred door that they couldn't pass through despite Luz banging on the door until they just gave up, took a seat on the ground beside the door and waited.

And they waited all night long, they fell asleep in chairs they migrated to a little further down the hallway. When they woke up, they were concerned, did Hunter get a new room overnight? Was he still an ICU patient and behind barred doors? They didn't know, and it was a little bit of a worry, actually, a lot of a worry, so they promptly headed to the front desk to ask for a room number.

"We need Hunter, Hunter Wittebane/Clawthorne/Nocedas room number, we haven't done all the name change paperwork and I can't remember," Camila said, she was tired, a yawn broke her speech near the start and the front desk lady looked at her a little bit confused, but she complied, it was her job.

"Hunter Clawthornes room is on floor two, take the central elevator and its five rooms down to your left on the door you leave," the front desk lady said, all the words went into Noceda ears and came out some other hole, they weren't even sure.

"Ma'am, we had to sleep in chairs waiting to hear if my baby boy was doing fine, so please, for the love of God, give me a number," Camila pleaded with the front desk lady who etched it onto a piece of paper, along with the floor number before handing it to Camila who read it over, "thank you."

The two Nocedas gave brief glances to the words and numbers on the piece of paper before proceeding in that direction, their minds were worn thin due to lack of sleep. Conversation was zero, nothing escaped either of their lips, no words could even be formed, fear was overbearing and panic was silently droning. They came to Hunters room, flinching when they heard a crash and a scream that they knew was Hunter, they simply walked in. Luz walked ahead pulling Hunter down to the ground from his standing position, his pulse was racing and the pyschologists, paramedics, nurses, whoever they sent to calm him were shocked to see him calming. Soon enough his shaking stopped, his breathing slowed, his pulse came back down to a steady hum like all grimwalkers, and he was passing out in Luzes arms.

"How did you calm him down...?" The question was a stunned cunt reaction and Luz only glared at them.

"He's my brother," Luz answered with, unable to form an answer that consisted of much more than basic fact, the paramedics left the room after getting an idea of how fucking done everyone in it was.

"Is he okay?" Camila asked, slowly walking closer as Luz attempted to hoist Hunter back onto his bed, majority of his body was covered in bandages and the IV in his palm was coming undone, she forced it back in, he squirmed when pressure was placed on his raw skin, even bandaged.

"I don't know mama, we'll just have to wait," Luz said, unable to help but rest a hand on Hunters chest, feeling for the pulse, her siblings sleep shockingly sound despite how deep the burns may be, a ding drew her thoughts away.

Willow: is he okay? Luz: he's asleep Willow: yeah, but, is he, asleep or 'asleep' Luz: HE PASSED OUT Luz: JEEZ Willow: sorry, can never be to sure Willow: what should I tell the others? Luz: tell them he should be fine Willow: anything else? Luz: we might be able to get you guys into the hospital tomorrow Willow: okay, I'll go tell them

"Who was it?" Camila asked as she slumped in a waiting chair, she;s gonna be sleeping in those for a while if she wanted to be around when her son woke up.

"Willow, I told her Hunter fell asleep," Luz responded with, her tone despondent as she traced along the contours of bandages and over his still visible scars.

"Thank you, we'll get them here soon mija," Camila said as she tried to pass out, her own phone was dinging, she sent them all a carbon copied "family emergency, can't come" message and they shut up, or they didn't she silenced her phone.

"Okay, do you think Hunter will survive?" Luz asked as she stood up, she started pacing.

"Oh, Luz, I don't know," Camila said, standing up before enveloping Luz into a hug, the soft whistle and chirrups Hunter gave in his sleep was the only kind of sound in the room aside from faint crying.

---

A week passed, Hunter was awake on and off, he was usually awake whenever everyone was asleep, he didn't wake them, or when a paramedic was in the room. So for the most part, his friends thought he was dead, or dying at least and they were witnessing it in slow motion. Like Luz had said, all of her siblings were brought to the hospital to see Hunter, even though he was asleep, it was nice knowing his corpse isn't completely maimed.

He got fourth, near fifth, degree burns on a Saturday, and on Tuesday the doctor took off the bandages on his right leg. Everyone couldn't help but stare in disgust, the skin was red, it looked raw and flaky while also being slimy. At the same time they could see where the tissue had started to turn to scar, it would still take months for the scars to fully form all the way through the muscle and fats. The doctors all say its a miracle he's alive, he's even been waking up enough to eat food so his IV is less crucial, and he's calmed down greatly in the presence of medical professionals.

Camila, Luz, Vee, Gus, Willow and Amity still have to attend to things outside of the hospital though, and the fact that their older brother could relapse at any second, collapse while walking, that something bad could happen to him and they couldn't stop it, thats been dragging them down. Of course, Luz has gotten sent home with positive letters from the teachers due to her not being a nuisance in class anymore, her mother feels guilty for some reason. Willow and Gus also go to school, all of them do, but, its just really rough explaining why they haven't been in the same spirits that they usually are. Are you okay? They would ask, my brother has been hospitalized, the temporarily Noceda children would respond without missing a beat, watching the color drain from someones face never gets old, they find it funny even though they are in so much agony.

Every single day after school Camila picks them all up and drives straight to the hospital, giving vague talk about what happened during the day until they arrive. The front desk lady has become an acquaintance of the Noceda family and will sometimes ask how things have been for Camila, its small talk, but its nice. They've come to learn that you don't need to rush through the hospital, if he really is on his dying breath, it would be better not to just rush into it and take it slower. Everyday when they return Hunter is asleep, usually with another bandage off, by next Saturday he's down to the ones on his torso, his arms are mangled but they ignore it because he's healing.

When they finally, finally arrive while he's awake, just sitting there, fingers twitching because everything itches so much, they are in shock. They can barely move further than a foot into the room, because, what the fuck Hunter? You, you should be dead right now, the doctors said so. But, they don't have anytime to question it further when Luz is on him in a second, squeezing the air from his lungs and helping him hobble over, he hisses when the raw skin is touched.

And when they ask him how he survived, what happened, is okay, he only has one stupid thing to say.

"I'm immune, remember?"

8 notes · View notes

floof-writes · 1 year

Note

could you do a fic where hunter returns to belos after hollow mind? i think that hurt no comfort would be very nice

Hi, virusgarden! Thank you for the prompt! I'll be honest, I wasn't super into it at first, about halfway through I was like, "okay, let's be done now" and then half an hour had passed and I was having to tag major character death. I would love to blame you for what's under the cut, but really it's my fault for letting my worldbuilding brain go brr.

Title: "More Weight"

Words: 2050

Warnings: graphic violence and injury description, MCD

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43461781

Hunter’s skin stung, every layer and every pore smarting with memories of how unsuited a magickless witch was to the Boiling Isles. His childhood had lent itself to pain and now to resilience as he ran, low hanging branches scraping his face and bloodying his scar because on the Boiling Isles every twig was filed to a point and every leaf had a serrated edge. The dew that flicked off the ferns turned memories to reality, burning harshly, and Hunter had always wondered how rain hurt so much but humidity and morning condensation only harmed those it particularly hated.

Hunter hadn’t been running from anything in particular at the beginning, but now he could hear his footsteps behind him echoed ten-fold, a dozen doppelgangers doggedly mimicking his every move. He only stopped himself from looking back because he knew he’d see corpses if not bones and that thought terrified him more than not knowing if they were really there.

A particularly sharp branch sliced his cheek and he stumbled. He'd always been alone in a world designed to kill and hurt and now he was alone with versions of himself who hadn’t survived it. They were walking evidence of what awaited him if he ever returned to the only family he’d ever known, and as he knew now, the only family that had ever been real.

Something white fluttered out from a crease between his boot and his leggings and before he could even think his next step had stamped it into the ground. Hunter barely had time to blink before he was slamming into the nearest tree trunk, glyph-made vines erupting beneath his feet and launching him sideways.

He hit the ground hard and gasped. It burned, his skin peppered with the glass that masqueraded as pebbles and pine needles. He jerked his cheek away only to drop it back down as his ribs shifted in and out of place, like a creaky floorboard with a bunch of cracks. He took another panicked breath, trying to process as he registered the hot blood dripping down his arm and the large tear in his sleeve.

Hunter blinked, trying to get the world to come back in focus, his palm burning as he tried to sit up, but in front of him the edges of the spent glyph and its viney creation doubled and overlapped and fuzzed, and his next blink yielded a glimpse of something he shouldn’t be able to see at all. Between the seams of reality were its origins. He saw glyphs, glancing off the glass and shimmering between layers of tree bark, writing the code that made up the universe.

Nothing more wild than that.

Flapjack was suddenly in front of his face, frantically chirping. Hunter went cross eyed and jerked back, head pounding. He pushed himself upright, throwing an arm out to shove his palisman away along with what he’d just seen.

He looked, but behind him there were no ghosts, no echoes, no whispers of the Golden Guards long dead. Hunter shivered, grabbing his ribs. His heart was pumping so clearly and so loudly, in the odd, lopsided way it always had because of his missing bile sack (although Hunter supposed it wasn’t so much missing as it was never meant to be a part of him at all. Humans didn’t have bile sacks.)

Hunter didn’t see the ghosts but there was a new hallucination plaguing him now, because the the same glyphs he’d momentarily seen reflected between Flapjack’s feathers had been strung through his own stinging pores, his skin momentarily bearing the distinct lines of smooth palisman wood.

Hunter hysterically wondered: would his chest sound hollow if he knocked? Had his lopsided heartbeat been the hallucination all along?

His body was as wild as the world around him, more inherently magical than any witch's. He was everything his uncle intended to destroy and no matter how much his body tried to mimic a human’s that wouldn’t change. Even in death his bones would have the dry and cracked texture of dead wood. He was of the Boiling Isles, he lived and died by it's wildest form of magic.

But dew still burned him like rain.

Hunter started to sob and Flapjack ceased his frantic hovering to burrow into his chest. Hunter brought up his hands to hold him. His body itself was a betrayal, since birth Hunter had been magic masquerading as magickless, and in retaliation the Titan had revoked his ability to be safe here.

But through every stinging second, Belos had protected him. When the world itself rejected him, Belos had picked him up and taught him how to survive. And Hunter couldn't keep doing it without him.

Belos may have killed all the past Golden Guards, but they had something Hunter hadn’t: a choice. They chose to betray Belos, Hunter hadn’t. Hunter was loyal, still and always, and Belos wouldn’t throw away someone- something he’d worked so hard to make.

Right?

The other Golden Guards had tried to be something they were not- tried to mimic the magic instead of the human, had tried to defy their nature, and look where that had gotten them. There was no point in pretending his origin made him any more magical than Luz the human or Caleb himself.

Hunter had only one place in the Boiling Isles, and if he needed to, he would beg for it back.

***

Hunter trembled outside the door. His knees clacked but they didn’t sound like wood. No, they creaked like human knees subjected to sixteen years of hell.

Flapjack hadn’t stopped trying to tug him further from it the entire way here, but Hunter had ordered him to hide the moment they got on castle grounds. Maybe it had been something in his voice, in his eyes that echoed back a hundred lifetimes, because Flapjack had fled.

Now alone, Hunter pushed open the door.

His uncle was hunched over the throne, mask off, breath labored. His head snapped up when he heard the door open, face half gone to the curse in a horrible, animalistic roar before he force it back. “I said not to en-”

Then he saw who it was.

Hunter tried to believe the silence was a good thing. He’d never seen his uncle silent before. Never seen him frozen before. When he couldn’t take it anymore he spoke, voice cracking. “Hey.” He cringed, regretting the it immediately. It was a turn of phrase that must've rubbed off on him from spending too much time with Luz and Willow and the team, but it was too late to go back.

Belos’ expression twitched, head cocking in curiosity, eyes and voice carrying what Hunter could’ve sworn was the slightest hint of amusement and surprise. “Hello, Hunter.”

Hunter had never had this expression turned on him before, Belos had never been so interested in him. His uncle’s eyes traced over him, cataloging every scrape and every twitch, the way he was holding himself to the way he breathed, calculating.

“You returned?” Even after all that looking he was still surprised, and Hunter suddenly felt as though he’d done something right. Belos straightened and stepped off the dias, another conclusion ready on his tongue. “And not to confront me?”

Hunter shook his head.

“Then why?” Belos’ voice was smooth, curious, soft. He came closer, steps imperceptible beneath his robe.

Hunter swallowed and dropped to one knee, ignoring the way his entire body shuddered. “Golden Guard reporting for duty, sir.”

“Are you dense?” Belos asked, words reactive and uncalculated, truly taken aback.

Hunter grit his teeth. “No sir. Awaiting your orders, sir.”

“Don’t you want to betray me? The others did.”

“That was their choice," Hunter said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "This is mine.” He should’ve left it at that, but he couldn’t stop. “I’m loyal to you, Uncle, I want to continue serving you, I-”

Belos crouched down in front of him and Hunter flinched to a stop as the man cupped his cheek with one freezing hand, studying his face.

“I killed the others, Hunter,” he explained gently. “Did you come here to die?” It was a genuine question.

“No sir,” Hunter said, still reeling from the admittance from his mouth, lopsided heart beat threatening to give out.

“Then for what?” Belos asked, nails brushing Hunter’s bloody cheek as he rose.

Hunter searched for an answer that would ring true, only finding the courage to speak once Belos’ back was to him.

“For the truth,” he said, and that surprised him more than anything, took more out of him than the branch that sliced his arm. “Was I ever meant to be anything more than a copy?”

“No,” Belos said, in a tone that prompted him to keep talking.

“Then the others were stupid,” Hunter said, the words torn from his chest so deep it hurt. “They tried to belong to something they didn’t. The Boiling Isles hate me. I was born- or, I guess made to be a betrayal of it. Made to serve you. Why defy my nature?”

There was silence, but Hunter didn’t have anything left in his chest to offer up for parts except a lopsided heartbeat that was going far too fast. He was certain his chest would sound hollow now.

Then Belos laughed, and Hunter’s heartbeat stopped.

It was genuine, hysterical, full, like he’d just heard something truly funny, and Hunter didn’t get the joke.

And he just kept laughing.

Hunter finally got enough of himself back to start to stand up when Belos turned, moldy green overtaking his body, the door Hunter had left open a crack slamming shut. Hunter couldn’t make it to his feet before Belos’ limbs had him pinned against the door, feet dangling in the air. He choked in pain, his ribs groaning.

“Fool,” Belos growled, eyes glowing yellow orange, mouth dripping foam. “There is nothing more in Caleb’s nature than betraying me in favor of a world that wants him dead.”

Oh titan, he’d fucked up. He’d fucked up.

Hunter struggled against Belos’ hold but it was no use, the living wood was growing around him, over him, in him, bruisingly tight without regard for their existence as separate beings. It was almost a part of him at this point, and Hunter realized belatedly that at one point it might have been. Oh titan, was Belos trying to reabsorb him?

The wood got tighter and tighter and tighter and Hunter got less and less air until- It cracked, loosening as Belos’ muscles seemed to give out from the strain. Hunter sucked in a desperate breath.

“Damn, it never works,” Belos groused, and Hunter found himself airborne, thrown across the room by Belos’ creeping limbs.

He crashed into the throne, now absolutely certain that he had not a single intact rib to his name. His next breath was a cough that came with blood and not just a little either. His chest hurt so bad and he couldn’t breathe but still he pushed himself upright, trying to see straight, past the pain in his head and the way the world was fuzzing. He looked up just in time to see another speeding limb pin him against the throne, Belos’ form becoming more and more wild.

He hadn’t created Hunter to defy magic. He’d created Hunter to prove his own dominance over it, again and again.

But this was him losing control.

Belos squeezed tighter and Hunter found that in the absence of oxygen everything was going quiet, there was ringing in his ears and he couldn’t feel his limbs or anything but the pressure in his head, really. He blinked, failing again to take another breath, and realized the glyphs that wove the fabric of his body matched those of Belos’: palisman wood hiding behind the face of a human.

Hunter’s head lolled as black spots started to speckle his vision. His gaze landed on the torches lining the room, the glyphs dancing in their flames. His scrabbling fingers slowed to a stop and Hunter's eyes slid shut.

Belo's suddenly shouted, grip loosening as Flapjack bombarded his face. Hunter gasped in a sudden breath, nearly passing out from the rush anyway. The torches danced in his vision, their symbols sparking cheerily.

Hunter’s hand twitched, creating a line through the smear of blood on the arm rest, and he didn’t even have time to assign his thought words before Flapjack screamed and Belos’ grip tightened again, crunching his abdomen well beyond repair.

Maybe Belos was shouting at him still, Hunter didn’t know. He didn't spare the man's seething face another glance. He was focused on the glyphs in the torch to his left, dragging his finger through his blood as carefully as he could manage.

‘There is nothing more in Caleb’s nature than betraying me in favor of a world that wants him dead.’

Hunter tapped the glyph. It barely yielded a spark, but it was enough. His hand lit. Then Belos' nearest limb Maybe Hunter screamed as the flames spread across his chest and down Belos' arm. He couldn't really hear much beyond the crackling of burning wood.

Who needs a stake, after all, when the witches double as the tinder?

#ask answered #the owl house #toh hunter #emperor belos #toh fic

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supersizemeplz · 4 years

Text

Cute Enough To Eat

Photographer Erik Stevens x Black PlusSized Reader

Another #supersizedfic short. Random with no real plot, I like it nonetheless. Sorry in advance if you didn’t want to be tagged or I used the wrong tag. It’s been a while. I listened to Good & Plenty as I wrote. Enjoy!

The sunlight spilled into the studio apartment, bouncing off the bright walls for a brighter room. With no buildings tall enough to block the sun beams, it was on the warmer side. Sounds of the city below were soft background noise as it barely touched the windows of the tenth floor. Looking over the spread of photos on his round kitchen table, the contrasts of bright colors and brown skin tones brought happiness to the photographer. Some photos of nature, some of models, and some of both.

Erik grinned at his work, fingers brushing over a photo that caught his eye. Picking it up, he admired the radiant brown skin of his favorite model. You. It'd been a random photo shoot months before, spur of the moment really. He could remember it vividly as if it was just a day ago.

It was your fourth date, on a Thursday morning. He'd persuaded you into having coffee and donuts with him at a new black owned coffee shop over the phone. Well not really persuaded, you'd hopped on the offer with quickness which had made him chuckle. You'd cleared your throat to try and cover up your excitement but it was too late. Besides, he was just as excited himself.

He'd met you at your home, where you both took the short trip to the shop on foot. He'd carried his camera along with him, saying that inspiration could hit him at any moment. That moment hit as you both took a detour through the park, inhabiting a few parents and their children as well as a couple of pet owners.

You'd both found an area in the center of the park, between a few bushes and a large tree. He'd snapped that first few photos of you and fell in love.

"Morning, Daka." You surprised him, wrapping your arms around his bare upper body. Taking in his scent with a hum. The soft scent of his cologne caught your nose with ease and you snuggled deeper into him.

"Morning, baby. You're in a good mood." His hand laid over yours before he interlocked your fingers. Bringing your hand to his lips, he pressed a few kisses against your soft skin. "I wonder why?" He smirked, sliding from your hug to turn to you. With a soft tug, you were pulled to him with ease.

You let out a small blurt of laughter, widening his grin. "I'm pretty sure you have a good idea of that, Mr. Stevens. You're the one who put me to sleep." Smiling, you allowed your lips to ghost his. He hummed at the memory, pulling your waist closer if possible. Mumbling that he 'might need a refresher'.

You allowed him to catch your lips, indulging in a passionate kiss. He lifted your chin, thick fingers gently holding your face in place. Lifting up on your tip toes, you both were lost in each other lips before you heard him give a soft growl. No sir.

You pulled away, much to his disappointment, giggling as he licked his lips. "Wait, wait. Lemme holla at you real quick, baby." His eyes stayed on you with a hungry lust as he spoke. You moved towards the kitchen, putting space between you and him. You'd let him holla the night before and the happy flutter between your thighs could attest to that.

"Behave, Stevens. Do you not want breakfast?" You opened the fridge, glancing back to him before finding your ingredients. He watched you as you placed the few items in your hands on the island's countertop.

"As long as I can have it with a side of you." That was rewarded with a playful eye roll from you. Corny ass. He'd picked up his camera, tinkering with it. "I know that wasn't an eye roll, baby girl."

"It wasn't." You fibbed, starting on your pancakes. "I had something in my eye." He hummed at that, chuckling when you flashed a big smile. Replying with a humored ‘I bet’. Lifting his camera, he snapped a photo of the moment.

You looked up at him at the sound of the click, never stopping your wrist as you mixed pancake batter. “I am not decent enough to be snapping photos this early in the morning sir. I look a mess.” He moved closer as you began placing the batter into their little patties.

“Neva that, baby..” Erik replies, snapping two more photos of you. The last one of you with a hand on your hip as you looked at him. He walked to you slowly, grinning as you gave him a playful eye roll. The camera snapped more as you continued your task at hand.

You turned from him, going over to the cabinet to get a plate. Pressing a hand to the countertop, you reached up with a soft stretch. With that came the exposing of your bright lace panties hugging your backside from beneath his shirt that you’d taken for your own. “Never that..” He snapped the moment with a hum of approval.

“You just take a picture of my ass, Stevens?” You raised an eyebrow, a smirk teasing your lips. He chuckling, deepening his dimples.

“I didn’t necessarily take a picture of it..” He made his way to you as you flipped the pancakes. “It just happened to be a nice bonus to my photo of you. For my eyes only, of course.”

You chuckled as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you back against him as you placed the finished flapjacks on the plate. He nibbled at your ear, making you squeal happily when he smacked your thigh. “Quitt. I’m trying to cook, goofy.”

He obeyed, stopping his toying. “Just take a minute and look at these, baby. Two seconds.” Lifting the camera, he moved through the few photos he’d taken. Voicing which were sure to become a part of his portfolio as well as the three he’d take for his own private collection. “You literally could be doing the simplest thing and make it look good. Without trying..”

“I am cute, huh?” You joked, taking the camera from him to look through the photos again. He smirked, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“Cute enough to eat.” He mumbled, giving soft pecks to your skin. Getting sloppier the closer he got to your neck. You relaxed a bit with a soft ‘I thought it was good enough to eat. Not cute’. Humming, he turned you to face him and brought his lips closer to yours. “That too.. and I’ll prove it to you if you let me.”

____________________

(Since I haven’t tagged in so long.)

Taglist:

@sisterwifeudaku @kumkaniudaku @elaindeereads @wawakanda-btch @theunsweetenedtruth @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @unholyxcumbucket @purple-apricots @marvelmaree @chaneajoyyy @wakanda-inspired

@justanotherloveaffair @cmonkillmonger @princesskillmonger @theblulife @airis-paris14 @liviy00 @whoramilaje @yaachtynoboat711 @yofavcocoa @kaykay0829

@terrablaze514 @iwrite4poc @truglori @muse-of-mbaku @killmongerdispussy @jozigrrl @thedelightfulone @bugngiz @mzbritt @tinyelfperson @ashleychristina73

@softnani @tashawar @callme-slime @kalliopetales @amethyst1993 @pinkdemolition @raysunshine78 @missmohnique @toniilaney @pinktiger501 @thehomierobbstark @princessstevens

@killmongerthiskoochie @soufcakmistress

#black panther #erik stevens #erik x reader #erik killmonger #black reader #black panther killmonger #oneshot

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wacco17 · 2 years

Text

I posted 11,474 times in 2021

381 posts created (3%)

11093 posts reblogged (97%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 29.1 posts.

I added 1,293 tags in 2021

#north of noorn - 294 posts

#save - 267 posts

#non - 212 posts

#save for when sad - 132 posts

#video - 104 posts

#wacco posts - 70 posts

#wacco shitposts - 59 posts

#wacco says - 55 posts

#ecstal soydere - 54 posts

#art by op - 46 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#oh also i am about 25% fucked cause i want nothing more than to end jezek's life with my own bare hands but he will wipe my ass on the floor

My Top Posts in 2021

Sometimes self care is drawing your characters in pretty dresses with thigh slits and heels.

22 notes • Posted 2021-04-19 21:20:00 GMT

I miss Tibsy

</3

26 notes • Posted 2021-03-10 22:46:24 GMT

Someone with slightly better artistic ability than I please please please I beg draw Jay as a mermaid pls

27 notes • Posted 2021-05-17 03:15:14 GMT

Okay okay so spoilers for ep 21 of Riptide

So like I'm just saying that at any point Chip could have pushed Gill away, made Gill save Jay before they figured out the puzzle and yet, AND YET, Chip let the kiss happen. AND ITS TOTALLY OFF BRAND FOR CHIP, BECAUSE HE WOULD BE THE PERSON TO PUSH SOMEONE AWAY IF THEY WAS DOING SOMETHING THAT HE DIDNT LIKE OR IF HE DIDNT LIKE THE PERSON AT ALL. Check and mate bitch

31 notes • Posted 2021-06-11 04:28:23 GMT

Hello fellow JRWI Riptide enjoyers! I bring you a recently finished canvas painting of our beloved Pretzel!! She was inspired by a flapjack octopus (they are super adorable yall should look at them btw)

DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION (thank you!!)

39 notes • Posted 2021-08-29 01:54:21 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #Not expecting to see Pretzel as number 1 but I'm glad she is!#Also omls that's alot of noorn posts this year huh

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onemuseleft · 6 years

Text

Divorce AU part 3

Part One Part Two

I am ridiculous. Steve and Tony take care of each other.

@musicalluna also wrote her version of what might have happened next here.

****

The door closed behind them with a soft click and Tony instinctively palmed the keypad beside it to lock down the penthouse. If the Avengers needed them, they had codes to get in, and if the impostor got loose there would at least be a locked door between him and Steve.

“Come on. Sit down for a minute.” Tony led him over to the couch and Steve sank down carefully onto the seat. “You look like five miles of bad road.”

Steve grinned, crooked and tired. “That bad?”

“You’re still beautiful,” Tony said. He leaned forward and used his thumb to wipe away a drop of blood from the corner of Steve’s eye. “Sit here for a minute. I’m going to get the kitchen to start something for you. Any preferences?”

“You,” Steve said, eyes skimming over Tony with a familiar look.

“Not until you’ve showered, eaten, been to medical and had a good night’s sleep.” Tony leaned in and kissed him again, just because he could. Steve’s lips were rough and chapped, but so fucking familiar.

It had been too long. God he’d missed kissing Steve so much.

“Cruel,” Steve said, but he leaned into the next kiss and the one after that. “I missed you every fucking day.”

Tony cupped the side of his face, pressed a final kiss against his mouth. “It wasn’t the same, I know, but I missed you too.”

Steve sighed into the kiss. “I’m sorry he did that to you, but-” He pulled back a little, dark blue eyes locked onto Tony’s face. “I’m glad it wasn’t worse. They told me- I was afraid for you.” He took Tony’s hand in his and interlocked their fingers. “Tell me again that he didn’t hurt you.”

“He barely touched me.” Tony combed the fingers of his free hand through Steve’s hair. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Flapjacks.” Steve leaned into his touch a little. “Saturday morning, late February. I kissed you awake and we made love. Thor made flapjacks for the whole team and we spent the afternoon playing basketball with Rhodey and Carol. And then SHIELD called me in for a mission.”

“And you came back a different person.” Tony remembered that day. “I was asleep when you - when he came back. I woke up when he came in and tried to ask him how the mission went but he.. .didn’t want to talk. He just climbed into bed and turned his back. I thought the mission must have gone badly so I gave him some room. When I woke up he was already gone and - we never really talked again after that. You - He always brushed me off - he was busy, he had a mission, he was meeting someone. I started to think you must have been mad at me for something, but I couldn’t figure out what. And then -” Tony’s mouth twisted into a tired smile. “Then he showed up a couple weeks later with divorce papers, telling me that it just wasn’t working.”

“I’m sorry he hurt you.” Steve shook his head. “But I’m so damned glad he didn’t touch you.”

The thought of the impostor’s hands on him made Tony’s skin crawl. He wasn’t sure he’d have been able to look Steve in the face if that had happened. “I don’t think he wanted to risk getting too close. Sam had been complaining that you kept blowing him off, too, and you weren’t training with Nat and Thor anymore. He. He wasn’t.”

“He distanced himself from anyone who might have realized.” Steve kissed him again. “The divorce would have helped him. Anyone who thought he was acting strangely would chalk it up to stress from the divorce.”

“Yeah. It was pretty stressful.”

Steve reached for him, fingers skimming over the chain that held the dog tags for a moment before hooking underneath it and lifting it away from Tony’s skin. He fumbled with the clasp for a second - his fingers were clumsy and shaking, god, Tony should have insisted he go to medical first - but he got the clasp undone and carefully pulled Tony’s wedding ring off the chain. He slid it onto his thumb and carefully redid the clasp, tucking the tags back under Tony’s shirt.

He held the ring in one hand and reached for Tony’s hand with the other. “Please,” he said, and his voice was shaking. “Please, can I-”

“Yes. Of course.” Tony gave Steve his hand, held still as Steve pushed the ring onto his finger and then cradled Tony’s hand between his. “Steve-”

“It wasn’t me.” He gripped Tony’s hand between his. “I can’t imagine what the last couple of months were like for you, but it wasn’t me and I can’t - I can’t lose you because of what he said.”

“Hey.” Tony laid his hand over both of Steve’s. “We’ve got some work ahead of us, I’m not pretending we don’t. And the last few months were hard on both of us. But I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to leave, got it? I never signed those divorce papers because I wasn’t ready to give up on us and now that I know you didn’t want it either - Steve, you’re gonna have to pick me up and carry me to the curb to get rid of me.”

Steve shook his head. “Never.”

Tony pressed a kiss to the back of Steve’s hand. “Deal.”

“I love you,” Steve said. “Jesus, Tony.”

“Hey, language. What would your ma say?” Tony grinned and leaned over to brush Steve’s hair out of his face. “I love you, too. More than I’ll ever be able to tell you.” Steve turned his head to kiss Tony’s palm and they sat there for a long moment.

“Okay,” Tony said. “Come on. Let’s get you taken care of before you fall asleep flat on your face. What do you want to eat?”

“Anything. I could eat a horse.”

“All right, get up.” Tony helped haul Steve off the couch, noting that while he looked shaky, he was still steady on his feet. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“Clint and Nat gave me a couple of protein bars and an MRE on the plane, but before that - a couple days, maybe. The Skrulls thought I’d be easier to control if they kept me hungry.”

Anger boiled in Tony’s gut. “Remind me to introduce those assholes to a repulsor blast if our paths ever cross. Go grab a shower, I’ll order dinner.”

Steve took a couple of steps, then hesitated. “You won’t leave? You’re staying here?”

“I’m not going anywhere. As soon as I finish this I’ll come join you.” Tony waited until Steve nodded, then reached for the phone. It only took a minute to arrange for food to be sent up - the house chef took feeding Thor and Steve as a challenge, so she’d have it under control. Tony’s instructions to bring something nourishing, but easy on the stomach were taken as a challenge and he could hear her shouting instructions across the kitchen before she’d even hung up.

He heard running water as he approached the bathroom. Steve’s voice echoed off the tile walls in a low groan as Tony pushed open the door.

Tony hadn’t heard that sound in months. Parts of his anatomy tried to sit up and take notice.

The shower took up about a third of the bathroom, a wide, tiled space with multiple showerheads and no door, open to the rest of the room. Steve stood in the center, naked, head hanging down against his chest, as the jets pounded against his spine and water cascaded down over the back of his head.

He already looked a little better, the blood and a lot of the general grime running off his skin and down the drain. But it was easier to see how much weight he’d lost without his uniform, and Tony swallowed another burst of anger at the Skrull who had starved him.

He kicked his shoes off into the corner farthest from the shower and stripped quickly. The water was almost unpleasantly hot on his skin as he walked into the shower, but he ignored it as he reached for a clean washcloth and a bottle of shower gel.

Steve didn’t move as Tony carefully ran the cloth over his shoulders and back. He smoothed a hand over Steve’s skin, washing away the soap and blood, shielding a couple of raw-looking patches of skin from the sting of soap. He could feel some of the tension easing out of Steve’s back with every touch, and Steve moaned softly as Tony carefully massaged the tight knot of muscle in his lower back.

He worked his way down, running the cloth over the tight globes of Steve’s ass, down his thighs and calves, then moved around to Steve’s front. Steve lifted his head to smile at him, water dripping down his hair and into his eyes and Tony had to kiss him.

He skipped Steve’s face for now, started with a fresh dollop of body wash and carefully wiped down his throat and chest. Steve shifted for him, lifting his arms and lowering them with just a touch to prompt him, but otherwise stood largely passive and let Tony wash him. He didn’t take his eyes off Tony the entire time, and Tony felt the weight of his gaze like a solid thing. He kissed the skin over Steve’s heart, the soft skin of his belly, the tender flesh at the crease of thigh and groin. Steve’s cock stirred slightly at his touch, and Tony felt an answering heat in his belly, but he ignored both for now.

“Foot,” Tony said and Steve lifted one foot, resting a hand on Tony’s shoulder for balance. His touch felt hot, and Tony held back a shiver as he worked the cloth over Steve’s feet one at a time, kneading the arches and balls of his feet, digging his thumbs into Steve’s heels just to hear him moan again.

“All right, sit.” Tony set Steve’s foot down and urged him to the ledge built into the back of the shower where there was a hose attachment. “Tip your head back for me.”

Tony worked shampoo through his hair - it was so dirty it barely worked up a lather, and he rinsed it out and rewashed it two more times before working conditioner through. Steve leaned back into his chest and sighed, turned his head to kiss Tony’s throat. “Feels good.”

Tony dropped a kiss onto his forehead. “Keep your eyes closed.” He worked a little facewash between his hands, then carefully ran his fingers over Steve’s face, starting with his brow and then his nose and cheeks, keeping his touch light and moving in soft circles. He lathered up the beard a little, but it was tangled and matted in places and would have to be cut - Steve’s captors clearly hadn’t been overly concerned with his personal comfort. “I’m going to get your face wet now.”

Steve hummed a little, and kept his eyes closed. Tony covered the hose with his palm, letting the water fall on Steve’s face gently. He ran his fingers over Steve’s skin to make sure the soap had been rinsed away, then started on the conditioner.

Tony traced a finger over the line of Steve’s jaw. “All clean.”

“Thank you.” Steve stood slowly, stretching his back and shoulders before holding out a hand to help Tony up off the bench.

Tony took it, enjoying the sight of water running over Steve’s skin. “Better?”

Steve pulled him in close until they were pressed together, hip to chest. “Much better,” he said.

He was half hard already, his cock a hard line of heat pressing against Tony’s groin. Tony’s skin felt hot everywhere Steve touched him, like a sunburn. Arousal uncurled in his belly, a slow rush of pleasure that flared hotter as Steve began to rock his hips into Tony’s.

Part of Tony thought this was a very bad idea. Steve was half-starved, injured, exhausted and emotional - and Tony wasn’t feeling much better after the last few weeks. But the rest of him was hungry, aching for this final proof that Steve was back with him, that Steve still wanted him. He slid his arms over Steve’s shoulders, ran his hands through Steve’s hair, and dragged him into a kiss.

Steve pressed one palm flat between Tony’s shoulder blades, slid the other down to cup Tony’s ass, and dragged him closer with every roll of his hips.

It was messy and a little awkward and over far too soon. Steve’s body was shaking with exhaustion but his hands were steady and tight where they gripped Tony. His breath came hard and fast in between deep, bruising kisses. He held Tony close as he came, body shaking and break shuddering against Tony’s mouth as he spilled between them.

“God,” Tony said. Steve kissed him again, hard, possessive, and gripped Tony’s hips with both hands. He tugged, encouraging him to move again, and Tony moaned as he rocked against Steve, sliding against Steve’s softening cock, rocking into him in increasingly desperate thrusts until he came and all but collapsed against Steve’s chest.

Steve held him up. “I missed you so much,” Steve said. He kissed Tony’s mouth again, bit his bottom lip. “I would think about you while I was in that cell. Imagine what it would feel like to hold you again, to kiss you. I would dream about you and in my dreams I was home with you and safe. I would have done anything to have you in my arms again, Tony, I never would have given up.”

“I would have found you,” Tony said. He pressed his face against Steve’s throat and just breathed in the scent of soap and sweat and semen. “He couldn’t have fooled me forever. I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner, but the second I realized what was going on, nothing would have stopped me from coming after you.”

Steve smiled. “I know. That thought kept me going.”

Tony kissed his chin. “You just undid all my hard work. Stand still, I have to get us both clean again.”

“Or we could get even dirtier?” Steve arched one eyebrow at him.

Tony put on his stern face and tried to pretend his knees hadn’t suddenly gone completely weak. “After dinner. And after medical checks you out, don’t think I’ve forgotten about that.”

Steve made a face, but held still while Tony cleaned him off a second time. “Shave now or after dinner?” Tony asked and Steve hesitated visibly, obviously torn. “All right, the food’s not here yet so go sit down.”

Steve settled onto the bench again, back against the wall and leaned back. Tony turned off the jets, then ducked out of the shower to grab his razor and shaving cream. Steve’s were gone, taken when he’d moved out without announcement the day before he’d served Tony with divorce papers.

Not Steve though. The impostor. It only made it hurt a little less, but Tony could work with that. It hadn’t been Steve.

“Hold still.” Tony used the clippers first, cutting away the worst of the matted mess and letting it fall to the shower floor. He got it as short as he could before he switched to the razor. He smoothed the shaving cream over Steve’s face and carefully pulled the razor over his cheeks and the curve of his chin, the soft skin under his jaw. Steve didn’t move or flinch, but he kept his eyes open, watching Tony through the entire process.

Tony smoothed his fingers over Steve’s throat, feeling for any stubble he may have missed, and let his fingers rest for a moment over Steve’s pulse, counting beats in his head.

Steve’s stomach growling spurred him back to movement and he put the razor aside. He rinsed Steve off with the hose yet again, then used a clean washcloth and some hot water to get the last of the shaving cream off Steve’s face. “There you go. Hey, I can see your face again.” He brushed his thumb over Steve’s cheekbones, more prominent than they usually were. “Come on, your food should be here by now.”

He patted Steve dry with a towel, then bundled him into one of Tony’s softest dressing gowns. “We’ll have to get the rest of your stuff back - I don’t actually know where he went when he left, so we may have to do some digging there -”

“I can buy new clothes,” Steve said. “They only things they took from me that were irreplaceable are you and my freedom, and I have them both back. Nothing else really matters to me right now.” He frowned for a minute, then added, “And my wedding ring. I want that back.”

“Your-” Tony’s eyes dart to Steve’s hand and he feels terrible for only just then realizing it was bare. “What did they-”

“They gave it to him. The impostor.” Steve spat the word out. “I didn’t think of it while we were out there - I just wanted you as far away from him as possible.”

“He wasn’t wearing it. He had taken it off by the time he brought me the papers to sign. It’s probably with the rest of your things. We’ll go figure out what he did with it all tomorrow, okay?”

“I want that ring back,” Steve said.

“We can get you a new one, if we have to.”

“You gave it to me. I know it’s just jewelry, but it’s - it means a lot to me.”

Tony nodded. “Then we’ll get it back. I doubt he took the trouble of selling it so it’s probably wherever he was living the last few weeks. We’ll find it.”

The reassurance seemed to be all Steve needed. “I didn’t give it up without a fight.” He grinned, and it was the wild, wicked grin Tony had seen on him before when he’d done something dangerous. “When I realized what they wanted it for I made them work for it. It took six of them to take it off me and they took a lot more damage in the fight than I did.”

“I’d rather you hadn’t taken any damage at all,” Tony said as he slipped into a robe. “But if it had been me in your place I think I would have done the same.” He tried to imagine being held in a cell for two months, knowing that someone with his face was pretending to be Steve’s husband, sleeping beside him, fighting beside him, seeing him vulnerable and undefended, and thought he’d have gone crazy.

Steve was definitely starting to drag as they made their way back to the living room, leaning into Tony’s side and letting him hold up some of Steve’s weight in a way he normally wouldn’t have. Jarvis was there, setting up several plates of food, and he offered Steve a fond smile. “Captain. I must say I am intensely pleased to see you back safe and sound.”

“Thank you, Jarvis.” Steve lowered himself down to sit with a tired groan. “It’s been a hell of a couple months, hasn’t it?”

“Indeed. I must say, I find the alien shapeshifter a far more plausible cause for the events of the last several weeks than any other explanation offered.” Jarvis waited until Steve was settled, then handed him a cloth napkin and a glass of water. “Would you like me to stay and serve the meal?”

Tony shook his head. “I’ve got this, Jarvis. Steve’s gonna be out on his feet in a minute anyway, so I’m just gonna make sure he doesn’t drown in his soup.”

Jarvis gripped his shoulder tightly for a moment. “Very well, then. Captain, Sir, please call at once if you need anything. Captain, I hope you recover quickly. I shall lock the door behind me so you can have your privacy.”

Dinner was a huge bowl of chicken stew, several slices of thick brown bread slathered with butter and honey, and a plate piled high with roasted potatoes, carrots and green beans. Steve demolished the food so fast Tony barely had the chance to blink, then flopped back against the couch with a heavy sigh. “That was exactly what I needed. Thank you.”

“Thank the kitchen, they did the hard part.” Tony took the empty plate out of Steve’s hands and set it aside. “Come on. You need to rest.” He took Steve’s arm and let Steve lean on him as they made their way into the bedroom.

Steve sat on the edge of the bed while Tony pulled shades and drew curtains, making the room as dark as possible in the middle of the day. “Do you want something to wear?” Tony asked. “I - I think I have something that will fit you. Or I can go find something of yours out in the boxes real quick. Give me a second and I’ll-”

"Don’t leave,” Steve said. “Can you stay? I know you must have work...”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Tony tugged the robe off Steve’s shoulders and pulled back the covers so he could lie down. “I’m staying right here. A nap would do me some good, I was up most of the night.”

He shrugged off his own robe and let it sit on the floor by the side of the bed, then climbed in next to Steve. Steve rolled onto his side and lifted one arm in an invitation Tony happily accepted, laying against him, one arm over Steve’s chest, Steve’s arm around his shoulders. “Go to sleep. I’ll stay.” His breath caught in his throat and he couldn’t stop himself from adding, “Promise you’ll still be here when I wake up.”

Steve brushed a kiss against his forehead and his arm tightened around Tony’s shoulders. “I’m never leaving you without a fight. I promise.”

#divorce au #stevetony #stony #my fic #nightwalker writes

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txkemeanywhere · 6 years

Text

Hellhound and Humanoids - Part 6

Tag list: @undocumented-terriaki @risiskifi

Rowan watches wide-eyed, panicked and confused as the creature drags Yan to the floor, their shackled hands dragging him down too. He just about manages to not land on them and watches in fear as the slobbering maw loosens, red eyes looking up at him now. It’s ready to take another bite.

Rowan winces as something sparks in his head and numerous memories tumble out of some secret recess where they’ve been locked away, all of them scrambling to fall into the right place. Except this creature isn’t going to be kind enough to let them find their seats. Its jaw widens, an inhuman unholy growl ripping from its chest as it goes to strike.

A great flash of faded yellow light, there’s a yelp and a thud as the horrific creature is blasted across the room. Rowan turns to see Enis stood a short way away, his arms held out, palms pointed where the monster just was and a look of utter shock on his face.

“Did I do that?”

Rowan would answer but all those memories are finding their place. Where for months there have been empty spaces, all of a sudden faces, places, moments, and memories, feelings, fears, people, robots. There are suddenly so many moments, so many faces, so many things just filling up that space.

And Yan...

......Rowan pulls them to their feet, brushing down their dress and reaching into his pocket for the buttercup he’d picked at the park. Honestly they looked like they could use it more than him right now.....

.... “Hey, don’t worry about it.” Rowan playfully nudges them with his shoulder as they walk through the park. “You’ll meet someone.”.....

“Are you okay?”

Rowan blinks at the vampire as he crouches on the other side of Yan and grimaces at the not inconsiderable wound on Yan’s neck.

“That bite doesn’t look good.”

....... The droid moves to run for the door, to suddenly find AJ stood in the way, looking suitably sheepish but with his arms stretched out......

“...AJ?”

“Enis.” the vampire gives a small wave before he turns to his book. “I might have a spell that might help.”

Rowan raises his unshackled hand to tap probably harsher than necessary at the self-sacrficing idiot.

“Yan. Yan! Wake up!” There’s no motion, no sound, there’s barely even any breath there. If there is a spell, it’s probably not going to be found in time. “Yan you idiot!”

..... Something about this place is corroded and evil. It just takes and takes and now it’s going to consume Yan.... Rowan stops watching the clock, not able to handle this any more....

“Yan please!” Rowan isn’t begging. He isn’t! He’s just trying to get a reaction. Except there is none.

“I don’t think I have any chickens left.” Enis mumbles as he flicks through some more pages.

....Rowan clearly can’t trust the idiot to look after themself so if they need to go, he’s going to....

He clutches at Yan’s shirt, and gives the idiot a firm shake. Desperate, yeah desperate is a good word but Rowan isn’t begging. Begging won’t make any difference. ....Then again desperation doesn’t seem to be being much help either.

“Give me your hand.” Enis grabs for Rowan’s hand taking it from the shirt, and clutching it tight as he says some random nonsense, seemingly reading it from the book.

Nothing happens. “.........huh.....backwards usually words.”

When did Rowan last do anything to help Yan? It’s been six months. Six months of being a complete and utter ass. Being unhelpful, uncaring, unsupportive Rowan is trying to remember the last time he saw Yan eat, or even when he saw them smile.

“Come on you idiot! I’m sorry! Please!”

“We don’t have any flapjacks.” Enis turns page after page but isn’t finding anything. What little color there is in Yan’s face is just draining from Yan’s face and it’s not filling Enis with confidence either. When he glances over at Rowan he squeezes the robot’s hand. “Hey, don’t cry!”

Rowan blinks, suddenly aware of the tears rolling down his cheeks. He didn’t even know he was capable of crying. Still when creating a droid designed to appear human, it would stand to reason that they might install some means of expressing sadness.

Squeezing his eyes shut he tries to stop them, but even more tears spill forth. Rowan tugs firmly on the hand in his own, forcing Enis to move closer.

“Fix this.” his voice is low, quiet. Filled with sadness, no doubt, but underneath, at the bottom there’s undeniable anger.

“I-”

“You've got to save them.” Anger at himself, anger at Cyberlife, anger at god-damned fucking Lucas. This can’t be how this ends! It can’t! They can’t die! He won’t let them die!

Enis looks awkward, continuing to holld Rowan’s hand as he flips through a few more pages of the book.

“Have you tried kissing him?” Rowan glares at the vampire who looks nervous as he glances up. “It works in the movies.”

“They can’t die! I’m not letting them die here! You stopped that thing!! You have to be able to do something!!” Rowan’s voice is getting more and more panicked as he clutches at straws, refusing to acknowledge how long Yan has been too still and too quiet for. No! This can’t be how things finish!

Enis bites his lip in nervousness and glances to his book. This is awful. He’s always known that Hellhound was going to cause trouble. That’s why he’s done his best to avoid it for so long. Hellhound bites are bad news and the spell didn’t work. There’s no way any mere mortal could ever-

Enis’s eyes go wide. That’s it!

The vampire lets the robot’s hand go, moving to kneel by the stranger’s head, placing one firmly on either side. For a brief second he hesitates. He’s not really supposed to do this, but it’s been a really long time. And this guy is dying. And you know, maybe they’re not looking, and if they don’t see it they won’t get mad at him for it.

Enis’s tongue does a small blep of concentration as he focuses. After a few seconds, the same light that moments before had lit up the room illuminates in Enis’s eyes, glowing a faded yellow color as he stares intently at Yan.

Seconds tick by, until finally Yan’s eyes snap open, glowing with the same power while the wound shrinks on their shoulder. It doesn’t disappear completely but it’s definitely smaller and a darn sight healthier looking.

Rowan’s fingers are interlaced with Yan’s, the pair’s cuffed hands tightly holding onto each other as Yan’s body seems to wake up, twitching and shuffling. Finally, both Yan and Enis blink and the power is gone.

Yan takes a huge gulping breath, their fingers tightening around the ones they’re holding onto as they glance around in complete and utter confusion.

“What in the-?” they start, only to be cut off as Rowan surges forward, pulling Yan’s head up and holding them in place as he kisses them. It’s short, it’s strange, clearly very panicked but when Rowan pulls away, moving to brush Yan’s hair out their face, he doesn’t regret it.

“The kiss won’t do anything now. Silly.” Enis rolls his eyes as he sits back with a satisfied grin.

Yan blinks in slight confusion as their brain stalls. They were just dying weren’t they? And now they’re....did Rowan...? After a few moments, when their brain has had a chance to catch up, they smile, purposefully squeezing their fingers.

“That was nice.” They say with a knowing smirk while Rowan looks a little embarassed.

“It seemed a little ‘extra’ to me.”

They all turn to see two people a short way away. They look very similar to each other and are even wearing the same glasses but one, wearing a formal shirt and a necktie holds himself much more sternly than the other. The one in a blue shirt with a grey cardigan thrown over his shoulders is regarding them with a look of a concerned father.

Enis isn’t grinning anymore. “Oh no.”

“Hey kiddo.” says the one in the blue shirt, clearly addressing Enis. “We need to talk.”

#Yanderiplier #Enis #robo!Nate #natewantstobattle #Protection Verse #Egos AU #Hellhound and Humanoids

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mew-mew-mothertrucker · 6 years

Text

Cold Storms Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Word count - 3230 TW - swearing, mentions of violence, mentions of blood, mentions of abuse Sorry, this has taken so long. I’ve been in a creative block recently. Summary - Parent-teacher conferences go wrong

Tag list (sorry if i missed anyone ahhhh) @minamishipist @theprotectedpuff @preyed-llama @theawesomemaple @migraine-marathon @sombraplayslazertag @nightmarejasmine @missa-fawn @pr0bablypr0crstinating @ccecode @toomuchstuffnotenoughcreativity @fandoms-n-ship @not-so-innocent-bi-sander @deaf-girl-of-pismobeach

A few weeks of school had passed. Virgil had slowly become friends with Patton from the kind boy’s kindness. Roman still hated him, and Logan seemed to lean to like Virgil because he actually did all of the work, including homework. Virgil was surprisingly doing well at the entirety of the class, and it was the end of the first quarter, meaning fall break. He had a report card that needed to be shown and signed so that the school knew his father knew how well he was doing in class. He held onto the sweatshirt that Mr. Sanders’s friends had sewn up. Virgil had sen the signature of Talyn and Joan on the back in white stitching. He smiled at it anytime he saw it and knew that Mr. Sanders’s friends cared. He put the report cards with the lowest grade being a B and looked up as Mr. Sanders began to write on the board.

“Okay class, we have parent-teacher conferences. I have contacted all of your parents and arranged a schedule, so please write down when you and your parent or parents will be coming in.” Mr. Sanders began to write and Virgil saw that the time for him and his father to go in was in between Patton’s and Andy’s. He smiled and wrote down “Wednesday 10:15” on his paper so that he could remind his father. The bell rang and he waited for Andy and the two began walking.

“You nervous to have half a week off of school?” Virgil asked, seeing how Andy’s fingers kept on tapping on his backpack.

“More nervous about Mr. S seeing my parents. Plus I’m gonna see Chris after mine. And I’m afraid he won’t want to be my friend after seeing my mom…”

“It will be okay, Andy,” Virgil said, giving a reassuring pat to the other boy on the back. Andy gave a small half-smile to Virgil and the two continued on, talking about the homework that Virgil had already completed most of. Virgil waved away as he walked up to his door and walked into the house to see that his father wasn’t home.

He decided to clean up the living room, knowing that otherwise, it wouldn't get clean. He took the empty bottles and they them in the trash, put the still full bottles on the kitchen counter, cleaned up mysterious stains and vacuumed the carpet. After taking out the trash and cleaning the plates and glasses that were in the living room, it had turned to night.

Virgil turned on lights and began to work on his homework, completing the packet that was supposed to last a week, probably getting a few things wrong, but he knew that he wouldn't get any help from his father. He made sure to leave the paper he had written the time of the meeting tomorrow morning.

He sighed as the clock turned to 9 and his father still wasn't home. He went to his almost bare bedroom, deciding to sleep in the hoodie he had gotten from the nurse’s office weeks before. He zipped up the hoodie and grabbed his cat, hugging too close to his body as he went to the bare bed. Using his arms as pillows, he fell asleep.

Virgil was standing in his old house, looking at the room he once lived it. It was nice, a bed that was the perfect softness, purple paintings on the wall of cats and rabbits bouncing around. A plaid purple quilt was on his bed, covering the pillows and purple bed sheets. On the bed was a black cat toy with a purple ribbon around the neck, a tag with “from mom” on it in purple. Virgil walked into the room and picked up the cat toy, holding it close.

He closed his eyes and opened them, only to find himself not in his room but inside his father’s truck, parked outside of a warehouse. He could see his mom and dad through the front window and saw his father holding a large brown briefcase and yelling at his mother. His mother screamed back and pointed to Virgil.

A man who Virgil didn’t know came out of the warehouse with large storage bags, containing several different things. One of the bags had something that was faded green and in odd spherical clumps. The second had what looked to be a lot of clear rocks. The third had waxy looking white clumps. Virgil watched as the man walked up to his father, handed him the bags, and glared at his mother. His mother huffed and walked to the car and sat in the front seat. She turned to look at Virgil.

“Baby, if you had to choose between Mommy and Daddy, you would choose me, right?” She said, her voice soft as she looked at him with dark blue, almost purple, eyes.

“Yeah, Mommy! Why?” Virgil said, holding his cat closer.

She sighed and looked over to his father, who was talking to the man, nodding and then handing over the briefcase he had been holding. “I’m not sure if we can all stay together if your father keeps on doing this to us, baby,” She said, pushing back her dark hair and closing her eyes to think.

Virgil watched as more guys came out and started talking to his father. His mother seemed worried and looked back at him. She got out of the truck and closed the door, moving to go in front of the truck to get into the driver’s seat. The men started yelling and one pulled out something black. Virgil watched as he held it up and-

“Virgil! Wake up! You have to come with me to this stupid thing for your school.”

Virgil woke up, blinking back tears that were brought on from the nightmare that was also a flashback. He looked at his father, who was walking out of his room. He got up and followed his father to the living room.

“SO what does this teacher know?”

“I-I told him I lived with you and mom disappeared”

“Good job kid. Why don’t we go get some flapjacks before we have to go see your teacher?”

Virgil looked at the clock. *. THey had 2 hours. He nodded, watching his Dad as the man walked around in a good mood. Virgil was scared but relaxed slightly when his father patted him on the back. Nothing hard, just a soft pat, like he’d seen other fathers do before school on the first day. He followed his father to the large black truck and got in the back seat, putting on his seatbelt and not questioning what the waxy looking cream colored blocks in bags in the seat next to him or what the nasty smell in the car was. They pulled up to an IHOP and got a booth seat, Virgil looking at the menu and eyeing chocolate pancakes with strawberries when his father got up.

“If a waiter or waitress comes around, tell them I want a coffee and a stack of pancakes with bacon, I need to go do something.” He said, getting up and walking out to the truck. A teenage waitress came around.

“Hiya buddy, did your Dad tell you what to order for him?”

“A coffee and pancakes with a side of Bacon.”

“Okay, kiddo and for you?”

“Hot cocoa and a stack of chocolate pancakes with a side of sausage.”

“Okay kiddo, I’ll get that out for you.” She smiled and went to the kitchen, coming back a moment later with his father's coffee and his hot cocoa.

Virgil took a sip and tried to look out to his father, seeing him talking to a guy outside. He opened the truck and the guy moved so that both of them were behind the open car door. Virgil couldn't help but remember that day and decided to focus on something else. He looked around the iHop and saw a familiar face of Paton. His eyes widened and he quickly put his hood on and sank deeper into his seat, looking at the other kid.

Patton was wearing a plain light blue shirt and was smiling. A woman with strawberry blonde hair and a man with dirty blonde hair were sitting across from him and a little boy, who looked to be 4 or 5. The little boy was wearing a yellow shirt and was poking at his food, not really focusing on Patton or their parents. Patton spoke to his parents and, after they nodded, got up and started walking in Virgil's direction. Virgil panicked before realizing he sat near the restrooms. He tried to hide in the booth and willed the waitress to come out and hide him from his classmate. Luck was on his side as the waitress came over with his and his father's meals. She put them down and looked disapprovingly at his father’s spot.

“Your dad sure it taking a while…”

“Yeah, I think he’s just busy talking to people,” Virgil said, seeing that his father was coming back. Virgil watched as the waitress walked away and his father walked in. As his father sat down, Patton came out of the bathroom.

“Virgil?” said the blue-clad boy.

“H-hi Patton,” Virgil said shyly, praying that Patton would just walk away. This time,. However, luck was working against him.

“Are you getting something before your meeting with Mr. Sanders? Aren’t you right after my meeting with him?”

“Y-yeah”

“Oh, and you must be Virgil’s Dad! Hi, I’m Patton!” Patton said, turning to face Virgil's Dad.

“Hello...Patton” Virgil’s Dad said, looking at Virgil with a look of ‘Who is this child and why is he so excited?’ Virgil shrugged and poked at his pancakes.

“Patton sweetie, it’s time to go, we have to go to Daniel's teacher meeting before yours” The woman that had been sitting across from Patton came up.

“Sorry for him, he’s….”

“Mom these aren't strangers! THat's Virgil! The boy I sit next to in class!”

“Oh, well, in that case, my name’s Amanda, and I’ve heard that your son is a very lovely child” SHe smiled at Virgil, who smiled softly and turned back to his food as she walked away, holding Patton’s hand.

“Bye Virgil!” The embodiment of sunshine said as he was pulled away.

“So you have a friend?” Virgil’s Dad asked, looking at him after a few minutes of silent eating.

“I have a few. Patton’s not really close to me.”

“Hm”

Virgil awkwardly poked at his pancakes, finishing them as his father finished his food. Virgil watched as the nice waitress came back over and gave the check to his father. He pulled out some cash and paid to give her a tip. She smiled at Virgil as they walked out before going to her next table. Virgil got into the car, seeing that the bag with the chalky clumps was no longer in the backseat with him. He watched the stores zoom by as his father drove to the school, parking in a parking lot and then they walked up together. There were few chairs outside of Mr. Sanders classroom, some filled with Patton and his father. Virgil sat down, his father choosing to stand next t him. Patton looked over and moved to sit next to Virgil.

“Verge, wanna go play tag? We still have a bit until my meeting!”

Virgil looked at his father, who wasn’t paying attention to him, instead of his phone.

“Let me ask my dad,” He said to Patton before getting up to stand in his father's field of view.

“D-dad?”

“What?” he asked sharply.

“Can I g-go play tag with Patton?”

“Whatever”

He looked at Paton, who grabbed him by the hand and pulled him o the field outside.

“Okay, I’ll be it! I’ll give you a head start by counting to 10!”

Virgil quickly ran away as Patton started counting. He ran to the playground equipment, thinking that he could find a way to slow Patton down. He ran up the stairs and looked at Patton who had stated to run up to Virgil.Virgil ran to the very top, next to a slide and watched as patton foolishly made his way to where there was nowhere to go but to where Virgil was. Virgil flug himself down the slide and bounced up and down with the force and his lack of weight. Virgil laughed as Patton tried to chase after him. The smaller boy went down the slides, but by the time he was at the bottom, Virgil was on the other side of the playground, starting to run onto the field. As they both got onto the field, a conversation was happening inside

Derek watched as his son took off with the shy child. He turned to the child's father, who wasn't really paying attention.

"So, our kids get along pretty well"

"Yeah I guess"

"My name's Derek."

"Louis"

"Say, why don't we-"

"Listen, buddy. I don't want to be all buddy buddy with you. The kid's, quite frankly, a fuck up. I didn't want him and now his mother's gone and I'm left with him. The only reason I keep him around is that he makes sure that the house is clean, okay? So why don't you just back off? This is my kid, not yours. And just because your kid is getting along well with the little rat doesn't mean anything. Soon, he'll tire of him and the idiot will be alone again. I've seen it time and time again."

Derek did not like this man. He felt it rude to interrupt, so when he was done he just looked at him. "You know, I was trying to be civil. I saw you selling who knows what out of your car to the druggies. The only reason I didn't call the police was that I saw you with that kid and when my boy was so happy to see his friend, I thought that maybe you just had no other way, and I could look the other way. But that's not the case. You, sir, are an insult to fathers. So watch your back"

Derek finished as the door opened.

"Okay, have a nice day," Mr. Sanders said as a mother left.

"Okay, which one of you is Patton's father?"

Derek lifted his hand. "THat'd be me, you must be Mr. Sanders, I've heard wonderful things about you!" Derek.

He walked in and they made their way to his desk, with a table in front of it.

"Mr. Sanders, before we start, I feel the need to address a concern You see, That man out there, Louis, the father of Virgil? I fear that he is perhaps abusing the child. He was also selling what I think was crack to some druggies outside of the iHop this morning. Now, I know that that is a very big accusation, but I was just in a very heated discussion with him, and he has no concern for the child. So, do you think it is at all possible to call the police to at least have a look at the situation?"

The teacher looked surprised but then thought. He had noticed small, off-putting things. Bruises that would peak from under the boy's trademark hoodie. How thin the boy was, and how he was scared of almost anything. He nodded slowly. "Yes, I'll do that now so that they can at least, I don't know look over Virgil at least. are the children here?"

"Yes, they went off to go play something. Dear Patton took Virgil off to have some fun."

Mr. Sanders nodded and walked over to the phone. He started talking softly, due to the phone being close to the door.

Virgil had been tagged. He chased after Patton, seeing that the other boy was going to try and sidestep from the way he kept on looking to the side. As soon as he did it, Virgil was already there.

"Tag! You're it!'

The last word faded off as police cars, with sirens blaring came to the school. Patton looked a the cars. "Huh, I wonder what going-"

Virgil was back at the scene. Blood. There was blood everywhere. The metallic scent filled his nostrils as he cried. His mother's white shirt was quickly turning red, dark in the center. He walked over to her, only to be shoved aside by his father. "Melissa? Sweetie, come here" Virgil watched as his father pulled his mother to him, her body limply falling. Virgil felt bile rise up in his throat-

"Virgil? Are you okay Dad! COmer here! Virgil fainted I think!"

Virgil opened his eyes to see Patton's face over his, calling out to someone far away. He slowly tried to sit up and felt his behind and back. They hurt in a way that Patton Virgil has never known. He slowly sat up and Patton's father same overlooking at Virgil.

"Are you okay kiddo?" H asked, helping Virgil up. Virgil nodded. "Y-yeah I just don't like police cars..."

He trailed off as he saw his father running out to them.

"You son of a bitch! Get over here you fucking piece of shit!" Following him were some cops, one of them with a bruise that was forming as he chases after Virgil's father. Virgil backed up, seeing his father more angry than ever before. He stumbled but stayed up as the man came up to Patton's dad, who had moved quickly in front of the kid.

"Patton, go take Virgil somewhere safe now" Patton looked confused but nodded and turned to Virgil, who was already shaking. Patton grabbed him and pulled him into the forest that surrounded the school. Virgil kept looking back and saw the police officers come up to his father and try to handcuff him, but then Patton pulled him behind a tree.

"Virge...are...are you okay?" Patton said.

"Y-yeah, I'm alright," Virgil said.

"I would look at your back, you fell down pretty hard."

Virgil nodded, not thinking. He took off his hoodie and Patton gasped. Bruises were covering Virgil's arm and neck. Virgil paid no mind and turned around, lifting up his shirt.

"Is it too bad?" He asked.

"You're bleeding a lot" Patton looked from behind the tree.

"Dad! Come here, I think you need to see this!"

Virgil was confused. See what? Oh, right. Patton said he had started bleeding.

Derek walked over to where his son was and gasped. Across Virgil's back, we're lashes, much like the types that were pictured on slaves in early colonial days. Bruises were all over his body, and some of the lashes were bleeding.

'Virgil, kiddo, can you put your shirt down and grab your hoodie and come with me?"

"Why? WHat's happening to my dad?"

"You're Dad...he's going to not be able to hurt you anymore. I promise you. How about you come with me and we can take you out to some ice cream and talk to the police officers so that your father can't do this to you anymore?"

Virgil turned to that, looking slightly hopeful.

"He's...not gonna hurt me anymore?"

"I'll make sure of it. Now c'mon, we gotta talk to the officers!"

Virgil nodded and grabbed his hoodie, putting it back on.

#Cold storms #sander sides fanfiction #thomas sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders

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chainsawbettyloo · 6 years

Photo

Title: Boomerang Compliments

Pairing: Sidlink

Rating: E for everyone

Tags: fluff, established relationship, compliments, lovey dovey, they’re married, farm AU

Summary: They're on a farm, they love each other but sometimes, Link has a bit of a hard time comprehending how he ended up being lucky enough that he was able to marry such an amazing, handsome man

A/N: It took me such a long time to get this prompt OTL But, I hope that it’s okay! You didn’t say anything about farm AU and I wasn’t planning on writing a farm AU but that’s what this ended up as....

Cross posted on my AO3! Comments, reblogs and kudos are much appreciated! Also, prompts are still open so if you got one, send it my way

Ignoring the sun beating down hard onto his back, Link roamed around on his hands and knees, yanking up pesky weeds as he found them. Being excessively mindful of the delicate plants that needed to stay firmly rooted in the soil, he blinked away the sweat that broke through the protective barrier of his eyebrows and dripped into his eyes. Every so often, he paused, wiped a sleeve or bare arm across his forehead, leaving behind a smear of dirt. The thin material of his work shirt stuck in all the wrong places and was completely drenched in several areas. Around him was the overwhelming, pleasant scent of plants and earth.

Tossing the weeds over his shoulder, letting them accumulate in a small pile on the edge of the garden, he paid less attention to the invaders he was expelling - eventually, the motion became second nature, with little focus needing to be put towards it - and more to the bounty that was growing in the massive garden that wrapped around his and Sidon’s small wooden house. Tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, peas, eggplant, zucchini, lettuce and cabbage; watermelons, blueberries, raspberries, and blackberries; mint, basil, spinach, coriander, parsley and lavender - a goddamn feast of nature. Mouthwatering, jaw dropping, envy sprouting, just about the most beautiful sight anyone could lay their eyes on, and yes, he did intend to brag quite a bit about it when he next wandered into town.

And this year had been the most bountiful harvest the farm had had in a while. With the amount they had grown, there was more than enough to fill their cellar to the bursting point, and still have bushels full to take to the market to sell. Link felt a rueful smile tug at his lips. Last winter had been more than cruel, it had been gruesome. Bad for him, worse for Sidon who was used to the warm weather of the West. Link was, at least, used to the kinds of winters they got up in the North but poor Sidon - it had nearly knocked him straight outta his boots. Got to a point where his husband had been confined to the house, plopped straight down in front of the fire at all times. Drove him nearly goddamn crazy but he had survived the winter with his life, all digits and limbs intact.

Still, it had easily been one of the worst winters Link had ever lived through. Not the absolute worse - no, that honor belonged to the winter of his eleventh year, when his Paw had moved the family up to this neck of the woods. Mam’s uncle got kicked by a horse and died due a ruptured stomach, leaving her his farm, as well as everything on it - equipment, house, animals, barn, the whole picture. Paw, who had constantly filled the air with whining, whistling complaints about his job and the inferior pay, decided they’d take it, go back to living off the land like the settlers of the past, and made the family leave their small, albeit comfortable apartment in the city, and took ‘em up North.

Problem was, fucking bastard hadn’t had a lick of goddamn sense in his bald head. Also didn’t help he was about as smart as a boot, and as stubborn as a cranky mule. He weren’t ever wrong, it was everyone else who was wrong. Paw had brought them here without a single inkling as to what went into farming, fucked up nearly everything by the time fall had started, and when the first snow started trickling down from the grey sky, they were in what Link now referred to as ‘shit territory’. Their first winter on the farm had been hell on earth, and came close to killing just about all of them. Mam, a frail thing that coughed with every other word and who always had the complexion of old wash water, didn’t make it through that winter. Paw lost his left foot and three fingers on his left hand to frostbite. What animals they had had left froze to death, leaving them with nothing but the goddamn house, which, at that point, was about as bare and empty as a whorehouse on Sunday.

Paw didn’t stick around after that. He took Mam’s ashes, clamored up onto the back of the horse he was “borrowing” from a friend then left without a single glance back. Fled back to the city, leaving behind failure, decay and one goddamn unhappy kid. Link had been given the option to go but had vehemently spat into the hand offered to him. Angry didn’t even come close to describing how he had felt - he was pretty darn sure there wasn’t a single word in existence that could come close to articulating that rage. No way on earth was he gonna quietly follow after his Paw again. He’d rather suffocate in cow shit than do that. So, he had stayed. Goddamn eleven year boy, alone on a barren plot of land with no animals, no food and no idea what the fuck he was doing.

It was a miracle he had survived a day. He managed...somehow, he had managed. First few years were a blur, he couldn’t hardly remember a single second of them. There were flashes to be found inside his head but none of them pleasant so he didn’t linger on them. Things had gotten better six years in, and achieved ‘good’ level by the time he was twenty. Now, what had once been empty, hard, wasting land was filled with beautiful, vibrant, colorful life. Nearly every goddamn inch was covered with his harvest, his crops that had been nurtured and grown by his own hands. Standing up, head whirling with dizziness from the abrupt movement, he brushed the dirt from his hands and happily surveyed the land stretched out around him. Well, not just his hands. A good amount of the hard work that had led to such a bounty belonged to his husband.

Despite being a city boy with little to no knowledge of how to grow anything, Sidon had fared far better than expected. It was a little shameful to think of it now but during the beginning stages of him and Sidon living together, which had just been around the time winter was closing in, Link had been scared that it’d just be a repeat of the first winter he had spent on this land. Course, that line of thought had never been expressed to his husband. No, that was something he kept locked up tight in his heart. Thankfully, Sidon had quickly proved him wrong. The winter had been tough on him, which in of itself had been terrifying, but despite him being a bit stubborn and foolhardy, he knew when to shut up and listen, knew when to admit he was wrong, and, perhaps most importantly, learned from his mistakes, rather than run away from them. He supposed that while his father was the embodiment of everything not to do, Sidon was the opposite end of the spectrum.

Pushing sweat soaked hair off his forehead, Link closely inspected the patch of vegetation he was currently standing in, looking for even the slightest hint of something that shouldn’t be there. Only thing he could find was a nasty looking sprig growing right on the boundaries. He quickly yanked it up, tossed it away and nodded in satisfaction. One section done, fifteen more to do but before that, food. A quick sniff of the fresh, warm morning air told him Sidon was cooking up some breakfast. Floating from the open window in the kitchen was the mouth-watering scents of greasy sausages, fluffy flapjacks and something sweet. His stomach immediately began to make its excitement and anticipation known, gurgling and rumbling loud enough that it was almost deafening. Figuring there was no reason for lollygagging, Link set off towards their small house.

Going in through the screened kitchen door, which squeaked in protest as he pushed it open, he found the table already set and Sidon hovering over the fireplace. His long, vibrant red hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. Little wisps of ruby hung around his broad, smooth face, floating softly in the sparkling morning sunlight. Long, slender fingers held onto a greased soaked spatula, which was currently being used to roll around several thick lengths of sizzling sausages. At the sound of the door opening, he turned and smiled dazzlingly, golden eyes sparkling with energy, enthusiasm and excitement, “There you are! Wash up, I’ll be done in just a second.”

For a moment, he was absolutely gobsmacked, utterly in awe of the person who he had been given the privilege to call his husband. How he had managed to end up married to someone so immensely beautiful was such a goddamn mystery to him. Not that he considered himself unprepossessing or repugnant - he actually was rather proud of his looks and personality - it was just that while he was a solid five or six, Sidon was an eleven. Very well-educated, articulate, dignified and clever - there was a reason his nickname had been ‘Prince’ back in his hometown. Compared to Link, who had a sea of dirt underneath his fingernails at any given moment, had problems getting out even the simplest of sentences, and whose schooling had stopped at addition and subtraction, he was so far out of his league that they might as well be on different continents.

“You’re going to make me blush if you keep staring.” Sidon said teasingly, favoring him with a warm, playful smile.

Blushing a bit himself, realizing that he had been blankly staring at his husband for several silent, awkward moments, Link let the kitchen door noisily slam shut behind him and sheepishly made his way over to the small washroom just off the kitchen. After quickly scrubbing his hands clean, taking extra care that the caked dirt underneath his fingernails was thoroughly removed, he splashed some of the refreshingly cool water on his face, made a mental note to top off the jug after breakfast and then dried both his face and hands off.

Walking back into the kitchen, he nearly collided with Sidon, who was waiting for him just outside the washroom. Managing to stop just in time, Link came to a stop, and looked up at him in confusion. Arms crossed over his broad, muscular chest, he regarded Link with a scrutinizing gaze and said, “You were thinking it again.”

“Huh?”

Sidon reached forward to gently tap the center of Link’s forehead with one finger, “You were thinking again that I’m out of your league, that I’m too good for you, that there’s a difference in quality between the two of us.”

Link gawked at him. It shouldn’t have been that obvious. If there was one thing he prided himself most on, it was his poker face. Even in the worst of times, he could remain, at least, looking like he was in control. His mind could be a shambles of anxiety and panic, and no one would know but him. The only emotions that showed on his face were the ones he deemed were acceptable. Could Sidon see right through that? The moment that thought crossed his mind, he realized it was an incredibly stupid one. Of course Sidon could see right through him, see him right down to his core, leaving him bared and naked in his gaze. How many times had Sidon been able to sense what he was feeling, without him ever speaking a word? How often did Sidon articulate the very same thought that he had been struggling to get out? Really, he shouldn’t be surprised in the slightest.

“Link…” Sidon sighed, tucking a curl of red behind his ear.

Ears burning with embarrassment and shame, Link fought against the urge to lower his head and opened his mouth to give some kind of reassurance or defensive, he hadn’t decided at that point when Sidon, suddenly, reached forward to firmly cup his face in the palms of his hands. Leaning down, he stared intently into Link’s eyes, his golden gaze so strong and intense that the rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving behind nothing but that rich, beautiful hue.

“You are incredible, Link.” Sidon said firmly, “When I first came down here, I was awestruck by how you were able to run this farm on your own. Back home, when you used to talk about your farm, I never truly came to the realization of just how much work it was, how much effort it took to keep everything running smoothly, and yet, you handle it with such ease. And you’ve been doing it since you were a kid. That’s amazing, Link! You’re amazing! You’re so smart and strong and capable! There was so much that I didn’t understand when I first came here, and I’ll admit, it was so overwhelming that it was scary but because I was with you, because you were able to lead me with such a confident, loving hand that I was able to learn, to grow. I-”

Clapping a hand over Sidon’s mouth, the battle against bowing his head now lost, Link stared down at the floor, knowing his face had to be as red as the tomatoes happily growing outside, and mumbled, “E-enough, I get it.”

Yanking his hand away, Sidon pulled his head back up, his gaze softer and warmer now, “I love you, Link. I love you so much, and I think you’re one of the most wondrous people. Your resolve, your strength, your steadfast nature, your kindness; all of it make it impossible for me not to adore and admire you. You think that it's a mystery how someone like me and someone like you ended up together but the answer is so simple.”

Closing the small distance between them, Sidon gently pressed his lips against Link’s. Breathing out sharply through his nose, Link, still thoroughly flustered, managed to clumsily wrap his arms around Sidon’s broad shoulders. Pushing himself up onto his tiptoes so that his husband wouldn’t have to lean down so far, grateful for the reprieve in the constant barrage of compliments, heart hammering hard against the confines of his ribs, Link focused intently on the feeling of Sidon’s firm lips pressed against his own. These were the only lips he had ever kissed, and they were also the ones he was intending on kissing. He was pretty sure there were no other pair that could compare.

Breaking the kiss far too soon, Sidon leaned back, two bright blotches of red dying his cheeks, and smiled lovingly, “You’re irresistible, Link. If anything, I’m grateful that you chose me.”

Panting a little, Link stared up at him in surprise for a moment then shyly lowered his head. Biting his lip, he pulled in a deep breath, clenched his hands into tight fists and choked out in a gushing rush of words, “I didn’t choose. You were the only ones I had eyes for. I couldn’t look away from you. There was no one else but you.”

He felt Sidon jerk in surprise, which was followed by a giddy giggle. Suddenly, he was pulled into a tight embrace and Sidon was raining little kisses all over his face. Pulled up off the floor, all he could do was hang in his husband’s embrace as every inch of his skin was blessed with a soft smooch. Not that he was complaining about being in such a predicament. Wrapping his arms loosely around Sidon’s broad back, he felt a big smile naturally appear on his face. Getting those words out, as embarrassing as they were, felt so good. Stuff like that didn’t come easily to him, but he would need to make a habit of saying that kind of thing more often. He was sure Sidon would appreciate it as well.

“I love you, Link.” Sidon breathed, nuzzling against him, “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” Link mumbled in return, feeling like all the blood in his body was currently in his face.

“I’m glad, Link. I’m so glad.”

“Me too.” Link whispered, snuggling closer to him, burying his face into the crook of Sidon’s shoulder.

There they stayed for a long while, simply enjoying each other’s touch and warmth when Sidon, suddenly, jerked and yelled, “The sausages!”

Dropping Link rather abruptly, he darted over to the fire, which had died down to a glimmer. After regaining his balance, Link followed after him. Looking over his shoulder, he found that, thankfully, the sausages were a bit burnt but far from inedible. It probably hadn’t been that long of a time between Sidon leaving the fire’s side to now. Drooping his shoulders, Sidon sighed in relief then turned to smile sheepishly up at him, “Maybe, next time, we should keep a conversation like that as tabletop discussion.”

Link smiled back and nodded, grateful that they hadn’t had been burnt to a hunk of rock. Sidon would have been so dismayed if that had happened. Stepping up to his side, he gazed down at the pan for a moment, then glanced over at his husband. Reaching over, a little hesitantly, he brushed the backs of his fingers along the curve of Sidon’s cheek. Without taking his eyes away from the fire, Sidon reached up to take his hand in his own, brought it to his lips and kissed it softly. Swallowing with some difficulty, Link took a deep breath, knelt down beside him, leaned over and lightly kissed the corner of his husband’s mouth.

He felt Sidon turn in what was surely a motion to capture his lips in a firm kiss but before he could manage that, he pulled back. Their eyes met, Sidon’s gaze a little surprised, and Link fought to keep the contact. Taking another deep breath, he choked the first time he tried to get the words out but managed success the second time.

“I think you’re incredible too. You were thrown into a situation that you were lost in. You not only made the best of it, you thrived. You kept going even if you failed. You put so much effort into learning everything you could, and made the best out of everything. You adapted, even though it was difficult. And I’m,” he couldn’t do it anymore. His gaze fell to the floor, his cheeks practically glowing with heat, “really proud of you.”

Everything had sounded better in his head but he had, at least, managed to get the jist of it out. Abruptly standing, trembling a little, he turned to make his way over to the table, where he planned to become very acquainted with every detail of his plate, when Sidon grabbed his hand. Coming to a stop, he bit his lip, hoping that he wouldn’t be made to turn around. Thankfully, his husband seemed to sense that he was close to being overwhelmed and wrapped his arms around him from behind. Warm breath ghosted over his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

Squeezing tightly, Sidon placed a warm kiss on his cheek and whispered, “Thank you, Link. You just made me incredibly happy.”

Wrapping his fingers lightly around the wrist of one of the arms encasing him, he leaned back into Sidon’s warmth and mumbled, “I’m glad.”

Another kiss then Sidon said, “Go sit down. I’ll get everything ready.”

With that, he released Link from his embrace. Grateful to be able to escape to the safety of the table but also mourning the loss of his husband’s warmth, he strode over, plopped down in his chair and forced himself to keep his chin up. Some of the heat was slowly seeping out of his cheeks, though he was pretty certain he was still a bright shade of red. Still, he discovered that he was happy. He was incredibly happy. Happier than he had been just minutes ago, when he had been outside, surveying the fruits of their labor. He felt happy, light and just plain good. Without a doubt, even though it was difficult, he would need to make a habit of having discussions like that with Sidon more often. It would probably be good for the both of them.

#loz #breath of the wild #prince sidon #sidlink

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boglog · 6 years

Text

Wholesome Questionare Tag Meme

Tagged by @80sglamcowboy Rules are: -Post the rules -Answer the questions given to you by the tagger -Write eleven questions of your own -Tag eleven people

This is long as Hell, friends and I apologise.

One inquisitive bitch has asked me:

1. Name one person (real or fictional) that you think you could 100% take on in a fight

Foaming mouth guy from Avatar. He’s got no stamina, barely any health, no skill. He’s unfocused and weak and my noodley nerd-ass could take him. (Though I am a little concerned he has rabies.)

2. What’s your favourite snack rn

Grilled cheese w veggies, mustard, and grilled tofu w a side of ketchup made by my roommate. It’s honestly the purest thing.

3. Which apocalypse do you think you’d do the best in? (i.e. Nuclear winter/ robot uprising/ Too many vampires, etc)

O man. I love apocalypse movies and I love survival horror (that one episode of the X Files where they’re trapped in a cabin, anybody?). I also genuinely love camping and I’m a bit of a medical hobbyist. I also watched an unreasonable amount of prepper videos on YouTube. That said, as mentioned above, I am a couch potato weekling. Furthermore, I don’t do well in conflict so if the world hierarchy collapses into a power vacuum where you have to Orange is the New Black-style intimidate ppl for supplies, I would melt and die quickly.

My best bet, it would seem, is an Arrival-esque alien apocalypse where the ones who have enough patience and sci fi knowledge to communicate w aliens are at the top of the food chain. And worst case scenario it’s better for my ego to die at the hands of an alien than a human.

Sci go apocalypses are just cleaner y'know ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

 4. Best and worst fandom you’ve been in? Or have you somehow managed to avoid fandom completely?

Worst has to be Steven Universe. I regret not just moving on after I got bored. Ah well.

(I also think celebrity/real ppl fandoms are a dead end.)

My other fandoms all have various pros and cons and it’s hard to pick a favourite.

Adventure Time has great fanart, great meta and ppl have yet to descend into Homestuck-ian chaos. That said, they’re quiet af. People also fixate way too much on the fake fanfic AU Fionna and Cake. I have yet to read a really good Bonny/Marcy fic and that is a tragedy (a few have come close tho). Bottom line for AT tho is that it’s my go to wholesome cartoonist fandom. I like that it has depth but that it’s generally very simple and fun and that the fans are mostly shut in animation adults.

AtLA/LoK fandom’s biggest pro is that it’s huge and you literally never ran out of quality content. I’ve even made a few friends via this decade old franchise. It’s also enjoyably rich and complex. One of my favourite (now inactive) blogs was one that connected world building and little background Easter eggs to real Chinese history and culture. That wAs so cool!! I defs think as a Chinese person it allowed me to connect to non-western culture in a socially acceptable way.

The downsides tho are many: it can be overwhelmingly complicated (esp as someone who knows jack shit abt Chinese history), people take it too seriously, The Great Shipping Wars, it’s so big it’s a little lonely, the show itself has so many flaws upon greater inspection you wonder why you wasted your time on anything related to it, it’s an Asian themed story created by white dudes who make fun of their fans, the best parts of the show were written by other writers but those same white guys get k the credit. Also as w any fandom related to POC culture, racism happens. Anyways most of you know this already. IMO the best thing to have happened do the fandom is korrasami. Now it’s just abt Asian lesbians ruling the world.

(Though I also thoroughly enjoy the Family Rivalry part of the fandom. There are so mNy dysfunctional families to choose from!)

Rick and Morty is technically speaking my newest fandom. It’s got a lot of obvious cons (pickle Rick sexists, Szechuan sauce racists, asfhkkh incest) but one other con is just how pedantic and overly analytical people are abt the world building. I can’t breathe wo being corrected. RM has a misleadingly complicated high sci fi aesthetic that begets the kind of overanalysing my brand of overanalytical nerdiness can’t handle. Too many alternate universes. It’s just too complicated.

However one thing I like is that conversely I can overanalyse the writing and characters’ psychology/relationships (which I LOVE) and ppl take me very seriously. (At least they used to.) it’s kinda validating to have your 3k word essay on an old man’s bedroom and what that signifies for his depression get over 1k notes.

Rm also attracts the fun, super talented animation crowd so there’s boundless fanart and memes. I never knew I would like a gravity falls crossover retirement home AU btwn Rick and Stan so much but the art is objectively gorgeous?? So ??

I really dislike the lack of attention the female characters get from fandom bc they’re all really great? Female rep is limited but both canon and fic really do their 2-3 tokens justice. Also the jerry hatred is getting old (that male aggression… Like… Calm down, Jake) but it’s a refreshing departure drom when Megg from family guy was the butt of the joke.

Harry Potter, one of the pillars of nerd society, has both changed my life and irreconcilably annoyed me to death. (W no thanks to the racist creator herself!) One can’t underestimate how huge the hp fandom is which offers you as many reasons to love it as reasons not to. Harry Potter’s canon has complex world building that’s also charming enough not to take itself too seriously and much the same could b said of fanon. To a degree. Certain corners of the fanbase are fantastic shitposters and meme-ers and can draw you back in like a black hole. Casually enjoying Harry potter imo is where it’s at. The fanfic is probably one of the most impressively vast. Strangers at Drakesaugh, believe it or not, still updates and not only that, I still read it.

Not casually enjoying Harry potter is, um, yikes? HP and Hunger Games love to insert themselves appropriately in real life political traumas and honestly the dedication of the fandom can be overwhelming.

The HP fanart corner of deviantart circa 2010-12 and @flocc HP comics however are the best.

Meet the Robinsons, Ye Olde Fandom, still stands to this day. (Thanks in part to me ngl) As Iroh might say, they are a proud people. MTR is so bizarre and tiny it’s the only fandom I was able to read EVERY fic summary in existence (ones published on obscure sites excepted). The fandom has never ceased to surprise me for better or worse and mostly due to its age range. The original movie was intended for 8-12 yr olds and their (jaded) parents which means that now, ten years later, the fans are anywhere between 12 and 25. It has approximately 20 pieces of professional-grade fanart and fic and I am downright serious abt the quality and thoughtful complexity of this minority of fanart. Like I shit you not some of it’s almost too dark. However, tragically, one can’t talk abt obscure Disney fandoms wo also mentioning the incest ships (this is what happens when middleschoolers have to resort to cartoons to explore their sexuality in an anti sex ed world), the disorganised crossovers, and the blinding lack of imagination. Nonetheless, that a fandom of any kind could sprout from a 90 min cgi movie before the recession, based off an obscure but objectively fascinating children’s book, is still impressive. The fandoms smallness can in many wars work to everybody’s benefit: it’s a tightly knit community w little to no drama. And lots of memes (that I mostly make) to enjoy sincerely or ironically.

I’m also going to mention, very briefly, the Twin Peaks fandom, most of whom, even the die hards, are v casual when it comes to fan content (I need more fic damnit). Nonetheless it’s a decidedly cool art kid crowd for an art house show and I really enjoy befriending twin peaks watchers.

5. What’s one hot food that you prefer cold? (or, alternatively, one cold food you like hot)

Is it snobby to say I like food to be the temperature God intended?

Like I like cold pizza and salad-y pasta but I wouldn’t mind if everything were room temperature as long as the food itself was well made.

6. ya like jazz? What music do you enjoy listening to? Can you recommend any songs/ artists from that genre?

I think in some contexts I can like jazz. It’s very cosy and nostalgic, it can make you feel like a grand dame stepping out of your limo into your martini filled mansion as records pop around you and your fur carpeted living room. I also occasionally like jazz covers and alternate genres of jazz like electro swing etc.

Generally though I also think jazz is a little antiquated and a little all over the place. I lean more towards the ambiguous minimalism of mellow techno music like Jonna Lee, Grimes, Björk, early Lorde, Yasmine Hamdan, Austra, TRST, etc

I mean I don’t stick to just one genre (I imagine most ppl don’t). I like alternative (Tori Amos, Regina Spektor, Joanna Newsom) and some musicians who seem to completely exist outside of genre like iMonster and the Gorillaz. Not to mention straight up pop like broods, Ellie goulding, lady gaga and Lana del rey. (I mean technically Ldr isn’t pop but u get the ideer)

7. What binge worthy show do you like?

So many man. There are so many out there! Twin peaks, Transparent, Love, Grace and Frankie, Adventure Time, House of Cards, Bojack Horseman, Rick and Morty, Mad Men, Girls, Broad City, Black Mirror, Avatar TLA, 6Teen, Chowder, Over the Garden Wall, Flapjack, the first season of Downton Abbey, Game of Thrones, etc

The list goes on. I’m a TV fiend.

8. What’s an old meme that you miss and wish would be brought back?

Always liked the Gothic [x town or whatever] meme. It was like a text post version of the cursed images meme. Currently I’m really enjoying the song from another room meme and I hope even after it gets old it’ll make a comeback.

9. Tell me your aesthetic  

O man. That’s a can of worms! Okay. Deep breath.

I like futurism, of all kinds. I like strong lines and clear shapes. I like colour blocking and minimalism and glass and holographic LED neons. I like white Japanese urban tiled buildings. I like aliens and ruins and cubes and white and colour blocking and black. I like technology and aliens and Comme des Garçons and Issey Miyake. Rooms that are empty but for one light and one window and one plant. Love that.

I like the midcentury cubism and Mod and 30’s futurism. Clear and strong industrial shapes and curves and post modernist abstractionism.

I also love nature, I love most every Björk and Iamamiwhoami music video. I love the mountains and the forests and the desert and the winter tundra and most of all I love the water. A vast expanse of sky and sea w so many colours and textures. I love the 2000s and funny blob shapes and y2k’s obsession w secondary colours and shiny round things. Love pink. I am a grown adult who will never tire of pink. (Though I don’t really like when people overdo pink.) I love cursed image family photos taken with flash in a suburb. I love the grime and the sanitary aesthetic of suburbs and hospitals and brutalist office spaces. The fluorescent lights of the institution but with purple carpeting!

I love 70s mod and I love colorful 80s brutalism I like it when houses are shaped weirdly and they have carpets and polished curved wooden countertops and spacious nothingness where everything looks clean and cosy and bizarrely ugly and it all looks like an art gallery w too many plants.

I also really love maximalism and wood and detail and fur and velvet and embroidery and silk and windows and wood carvings.

I love 70s kitsch like John waters movies and Shrimps designer fake fur CDG17 where they just piled on knickknack after knickknack onto white dresses w food long trains. Toys and novelty items and lamps shaped like a woman’s leg in a fishnet stocking. (See also: most Tim burton movies, wes Anderson, Carrie fishers house)

An overwhelming mishmash of wool patterns with clean cubic 70s architecture and so many plants and windows and wallpaper and candles and cobwebs. Also really like witchy mourning jewelry and essentially every house in Harry potter. Love the unfortunately racist boho/hippie aesthetic. Any house designed by bill kirsch is a masterpiece. Woven baskets on the ceiling piles of hats and art supplies everywhere. Stuff!! Everywhere! Hidden passageways reading nooks fireplaces the Pink Palace from Coraline!

Everything!!!

I’m a cartoonist who’s a nerd for design so I like when concepts are taken to the extreme in a humourously charming and clear-minded way. Whatever aesthetic someone chooses, they should go all out and really dedicate themselves to the highest form of that aesthetic. It has to be perfect without being sanitary of fake. It has to be alive yet beautiful, frozen in one perfect moment.

10. Favourite time of day and why?

Dusk. I think it’s a nostalgia thing. I loved the hours before bed time as well the hours before dinner when it was getting dark and the sun was reflecting freaky colours along the horizon while I ran around the grass. It’s cozy but it’s spacious and adventurous. So many things can happen at dusk!

  11. You have the choice to live in any fictional universe - which one do you pick and why?

Harry Potter!!! You get the best of both worlds: magical, over-romanticised Victorian/medievalism, wish-fulfillment surrealism and wifi. It’s great. Likelihood of dying is so low, medicine is so advanced and even then ppls n°1 choice of lethal weapon (Avada Kedavra) is painless. Me and Luna could hang in her garden. I’d never have to pay for the subway again. I could live a nomadic life in a tent w infinite space. If you chose to live as a wizard amongst Muggles you’re basically god and you can cheat capitalism. Gravity is my bitch! And I’m not gna lie my dream house has always been a combination of The Burrow, the Lovegood house, and Shell Cottage.

My turn to pick your brain:

1 Favourite texture?

2 Favourite smell?

3 Favourite children’s book/children’s TV show? (I’m talking about the bizarre abstract ones for toddlers)

4 Best and worst prank you’ve ever pulled?

5 Weirdest beginning of a friendship?

6 When you’ve been in fandom for a while you start to notice you’ve a habit of staying in the same corners. What corner are you in? Are you part of the fluffy ship corner? The intense world building spec meta corner? The shitpost comic fanart corner? Etc

7 If you could invent a class that would be obligatory for all high schools across your country what would it be?

8 What’s the weirdest thing you’ve gotten at Halloween while trick or treating?

9 Weirdest family tradition of yours?

10 Describe your significant other (or your crush, or your dream partner or if you’re aromantic your fave person) through only TV references.

11 Favourite piece of dialogue in a movie?

I don’t know 11 ppl but nonetheless tagging: @that-guy-in-the-bowler-hat @skairheart @nochangenohope @eventheslightestrayofsunshine@autistic-jaredkleinman@phoenixkluke

…and YOU (if you were not mentioned above and so choose to accept this mission)

#tag meme #u #food m ?

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