#mentions of character death

[flamingpudding]

DPxDC Family Week June 23 (Day 6)

Prompt: Grandparents | Lost

A/N: I felt like writing something with some Angst I guess, tho I don't know what all I need to TW so if I forgot something please tell me.

TW: Grieving Danny, mentions of accidental mass Genocide, Mentions of Character Death

AO3 Link: DPxDC Family Week Contributions

Danny sat on the roof of Wayne Manor staring longingly at the smog and light polluted sky. Trying to get at least the smallest glimpse of the stars above him and ignoring the two ghostly presences that he knew were watching him worriedly. He didn't want to feel like this anymore but at this very moment he resented Gotham. Despite Lady Gotham being welcoming to him and despite the warm welcome the Wayne's were attempting to give him Danny couldn't help but feel like he just wanted everything to end.

Amity had gone up in an ectoplasm powered explosion. The entire town was gone. And so were his parents, Jazz, Sam, Tucker, Valery, Wes, and everyone else he had ever known. Even Ellie had gotten caught up in it just when she had gotten officially adopted by his parents. All because he told his parents about Phantom. They accepted him, Ancients, they were even starting to change their ways. Their research was no longer biased and rather filled with the truth Danny was able to provide them. His parents had turned from Ghost Hunters to Ghost Defenders. Helping him and Ellie in sending them back to the Ghost Zone as well as rescuing them from the GIW. It was so nice not having to worry about them hunting him or injuring him any longer.

But of course everything couldn't have stayed like that. His life was doomed to not let him have good and peaceful things. Because the moment his parents changed they also stopped providing their weaponry to the GIW. Apparently that was the only thing that stopped these people from attempting to develop their own stuff. Which resulted in them creating their own highly dangerous arsenal.

Danny drew in his knees and buried his face in them, eyes stinging. Everything has gone to shit then. He knew that Jazz and probably everyone else too, would tell him that it wasn't his fault. But he couldn't help it. If he had never told his parents the truth, they wouldn't have stopped their deal with the GIW, then they wouldn't have started developing their own stuff. And then they wouldn't have come up with a nuclear level kind of ecto-bomb that was supposed to clean out Amity of all the ghosts but ended up destroying and killing everyone in town while leaving Danny as the only survivor just because he had been called by Clockwork for some stupid royal duties.

He remembered screaming, yelling and cursing once he returned and realized that his entire home town was gone. Accusing Clockwork of everything and nothing, demanding for him to send him back at least a couple of hours so he could prevent it from happening, but the other only shook his head telling Danny that even he didn't expect that change to the timeline and that it would be useless to try and prevent it from happening. Danny hadn't believed him at all as he broke down in the rumble place that used to be his home.

Of course that level of an explosion would also finally gain the Justice Leagues attention after all the failed calls he and his friends had made. He had wanted to scream at them too, blame them for so many things when they never offered their help before, but he didn't. His screaming at clockwork already had trained him of all the energy he had left. Besides one of the people coming by to check what happened was Batman and of course when they found him Batman would arrange for Danny to probably get taken care of which meant Bruce Wayne showing up and taking him in.

He guessed Bruce Wayne taking him in was still better than Vlad at this point, if that other halfa had survived that was.

Danny only went with the man because Clockwork had told him too, despite the anger still bubbling in his core whenever the ancient ghost contacted him, he listened albeit reluctantly. Because Clockwork told him that he could still avoid a Dan Timeline by going with that man but the ghostly teenager didn't know how. He had lost everything and right now he felt like he understood Dan better than he had ever before. His core hurt so much and he wasn't sure how long he could hold onto his sanity.

Sure he mimed the good kid for the Waynes, yet it had all been an act at the beginning. He got along with Jason just fine, probably because he could feel something familiar from him. Something he hadn't really paid enough attention to figure it out. Damien was nice company and he liked how the boy reminded him of Sam. Sure the kid had been a bit stabby but that was nothing compared to the time his parents spent hunting him when they hadn't known. Tim also reminded him of Tucker in a way, brilliant and adept to technology like no one else but the guy needed a better sleep schedule. Though Danny could relate to the coffee addiction they both appear to have. He kept his distance from Dick though. The eldest Wayne kid reminded him way too much of Jazz with the oldest sibling energy that came from him. Cass on the other hand was a nice and calming presence, she didn't talk much and sometimes that was all that Danny needed, just a silent presence next to him that didn't try to do something or talk about anything with him. Duke also was nice to be around though the other boy had kept his distance at first he now appeared more curious about him than before, Duke also had subtitly asked if Danny was a Meta, but luckily for the halfa, he had been able to redirect that question without answering it.

Still no matter how nice they were or how much he got along with them. It felt wrong, wrong to be here, wrong to accept their kindness, wrong, wrong, wrong. He could feel how his core fell into the chaos of is emotions as ice slowly spread around him.

"There you are, little Danny." He tensed but didn't look up. A cold wisp left passed his lips as he breathed out and he felt a ghostly presence 'sit' next to him on the roof; one was still watching him from a distance. His ice receded not wanting to end up making that other presence an ice block despite his need of wanting to be alone.

"You know, my son and his kids are pretty worried down there. I am sure that little Jason is currently tearing through every hidden nog and cranny he used to use. And little Damien is just seconds away from stabbing someone in his ire, he gave Titus one of your shirts Alfred hasn't washed yet in an attempt to find you and I believe little Tim is speed watching every video from all the cameras my son has installed. Sweet little Cass and little Duke are slinking along and using the shadows to look for you and little Dick appears to have become a headless chicken while simultaneously trying to calm down my son."

Danny didn't answer nor did he acknowledge Thomas Wayne's presence next to him. This was another thing he would have to get used to. Thomas and Martha Wayne, two of the ghosts that stuck to the Manor had taken to him the same way Lady Gotham had. But for some reasons the two were rather protective of Danny, referring to him as their newest grandchild. Something he just couldn't understand.

He was sure that if Jazz was here she could explain it to him. Ancients, he missed his sister.

"They are postponing their patrol until you're found, you know."

"I didn't ask them to." The halfa muttered lowly, still not looking up. The ghost next to him chuckled. Danny had figured out pretty quickly that the entire Wayne Family were vigilantes. In fact they were the Bat-Clan. If he hadn't figured it out by going around invisible and intangible during his first night here because he was suspicious of Bruce being another fruitloop then Danny was pretty sure that either Martha or Thomas would have spilled the truth to him sooner or later.

They had gushed so much about how proud they were of their child and grandchildren and how Danny would perfectly fit in with them. How they would give him the support he needed and the protection he deserved. He didn't want it, he was not going to replace the support he had before.

"They mean well. I know that my son can be…" Danny peaked up from his knees to see Thomas hand waving in a way that he couldn't interpret but had seen Jazz do too whenever their parents were being difficult. "... but he tries to be a good Dad."

"I don't need them trying to replace Mom and Dad." Was his grief, frustration and resentment leaking through his voice? Because if Thomas was going to give him the 'My son is a good Dad talk' he would not hesitate to change and fly away for good. He had played with the thought of running away before but Martha, bless her ghost, had convinced him to stay longer. How she had done it Danny didn't know but that woman could be very persuasive when she wanted to be or at least that was what Thomas told him.

"No one is trying to replace anyone." He felt Thomas' ghostly hand motion over his head like he was stroking Danny's hair. It took Danny a moment until he actually felt the motion, allowing the others ghostly touch to reach him and ignoring how his core painfully hummed at that action.

"Really, cause it sure feels like it with how they 'care'." Maybe that had been a low blow but the halfa was getting fessed up and bitter with the Waynes. It wasn't like they were mistreating him. No, in fact they were treating him very well despite Danny always drawing a line. Never getting too personal with any of them despite how well he could get along with them. Martha and Thomas kept encouraging him, assuring him that they were all honest with him even when he didn't want to hear that.

Because even if he denied it with his mind, his core knew, he had already stopped pretending to like them after the first week with them. Martha and Thomas constantly sought him out, claiming it as their duty as his grandparents. Checking in on him and how he was settling in, asking how he was feeling. And when Danny would refuse to acknowledge them, the two ghostly resistances would just laugh and start telling him about their family, trying to help him understand. About their son and their grandchildren. About random things the two had seen happening that the rest of the family didn't, like Alfred the cat and Batcow taking a walk around the Manor unnoticed by everyone.

Unwillingly he had learned a lot of embarrassing stories like that about the Waynes all during his first week. Dicks escapades with chandeliers, Jason's special book collection no one knew about, Tim sleep deprived action he thought no one knew about, Cass little pranks she liked to pull and no one ever traced back to her, Duke's hero speech practices and Damian's constant attempts to smuggle new animals into the Manor. His core had ached, lamenting the fact that he would never be able to share stories like that with his sisters or his best friends anymore. Rationally thinking he knew these ghostly grandparents only meant well but it only made him miss Amity more.

He curled up again, once more burying his face in his knees.

Would his core ever stop hurting? He had failed his entire hometown? What was his obsession worth now? He hadn't been able to protect anyone. Would… would his core stop hurting if he let insanity take him? If he became like Dan after all? Was that how Dan came to be? It made sense, didn't it? Dan did come from a timeline where he had lost everything.

"Oh little Danny." The pressure on his eyes became too much and the halfa could feel how wet tears soaked the fabric of jeans as he pressed his eyes against his knees. A cold touch lay across his shoulder and he was sure that Thomas was giving him a hug, he could feel his core calling out to his self proclaimed ghostly grandparents but he ignored it. "Let it out, there is no fault in grieving. Ancients know how nearly everyone in this family had gone and dealt with grief. There is no need to rush, we all will be there for you."

A sob escaped him as his shoulders started shaking.

He didn't know how much time passed as he didn't even register how the cold touch on his shoulders changed to a warm one. How it became more grounding as someone rubbed his back. The ghostly presence that had been next to him had disappeared but instead there were six other warm presences around him and a seventh one not too far away.

Danny didn't look up but he knew, he knew that the Wayne's had joined him on the roof and he was pretty sure that the arm around his shoulder probably belonged to Dick and that the one rubbing his back was Duke. The one sitting close to his legs was most likely Damien as it was the smallest and Tim was probably the presence to his right. There was another silent presence behind him, Cass most likely as well as Jason's sort of ghostly but not presence. He could even sense Bruce close by.

No one said anything and the halfa was fine with that. His core didn't warm at their silent actions but it did hurt just a little bit less. For a brief moment Danny thought that maybe he wouldn't have to become like Dan after all for it to stop hurting. Maybe Thomas and Martha were right that staying here would help him heal.

Thomas watched all his grandchildren silently giving their support and help when his newest grandchild was lost in his grief. He was still worried about the little guy, he wasn't the youngest among them but he was carrying a lot on his shoulders. His trauma and grief are so different yet so similar to the rest of their family and his core ached with that knowledge. Couldn't the children just be happy without any difficulties throwing rocks in their paths?

At the moment Lady Gotham was making sure that no other ghosts would come to bother his grandchild. Apparently little Danny already had his own little group of rogues that were eagerly awaiting to check on him. Thanks to the city's spirit though, he and his wife could make sure that the little halfa was settling in well with his new family without them trying to fight his newest grandchild.

"Don't worry dear." His wife floated over to him, laying her head on his shoulder as they watched the children. "They will help him with his grief and once they have he will fit right in with the lot of them."

A chuckle escaped him as he watched the eldest helping up the grieving boy who was doing his best to bury himself in his oversized hoodie. The second oldest ruffled the halfa's hair when they passed him on their way back into the manor, the youngest hot on their heels, sticking close to the grieving teen. His granddaughter taking the chance to hug the boy and not looking like she would let go anytime soon while the third oldest boy followed rambling about an observatory he would like to take Danny too.

"I know they will. I am just wondering how our son will deal with our grandchild's special status as well as counting as a royal family once little Danny opens up."

His wife giggled. "Well that is a problem for another day, dear. I am sure our Brucie will know how to deal with it and if not Alfred is still with him to support."

Thomas nodded. "And if everything fails, we will be here to help guide them?"

"Of course my dear."

#dpxdcfamilyweek #danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #batfam #thomas wayne #martha wayne #tim drake #jason todd #damian wayne #dick grayson #cassandra cain #duke thomas #bruce wayne #mentions of character death #the GIW are at fault #grieving Danny #fanfic #crossover #long post #dcxdp #dpxdc #no beta wie die like danny

[celtic-crossbow]

Whumptober 2023

No. 9 Polaroid | No. 27 “Let me see.”

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria/Sanctuary

Warnings: Self-harm, mentions of character death

You thought it would be a no-brainer that you’d accompany Daryl to run Sanctuary. The man had been tortured and humiliated within those walls by the very people he was meant to now help. Still, Rick had balked at the idea of losing your aid in Alexandria. Daryl had, of course, sided with the leader and encouraged you to remain behind. It was by his persuasion that you agreed for a time. 

That is, until a visit to the thrice cursed compound. 

You entered with Rick, hearing his praises being sung as per usual. When he stopped to converse with and reassure the people, you continued onward, in search of the only person that mattered to you. 

Daryl was not in his room. You let yourself linger for a few minutes though, sitting upon his bed— unmade, of course — and lifting his pillow to your face to inhale the scent he’d left behind. You’d be able to indulge in that later, though, so you lowered it to your lap and leaned forward to take in his lodgings. 

Things were tidier than you’d ever expect from the archer. Maybe someone would keep things cleaned up for him as you would do when he was home with you. He had a few things pinned on the wall: maps and plans and a single photo. Of you. It wasn’t the best by your standards. Glenn had taken it at the prison. Your hair was a mess. You had one eye pinched shut, having just woken up. Your hand was reaching toward the camera and there was a smile on your face. You remembered the moment well, though you didn’t know that photo had made its way to Daryl’s possession. Regardless, the fact that the archer had only that, his crossbow, and the clothes on his back from home made your heart swell. 

You replaced his pillow and made his bed before you stepped back into the hallway and pulled the door shut. Outside was the next option. There were a few men out there but no sign of your partner. 

“You seen Daryl?” You queried. They seemed friendly enough. Not former Saviors but workers, you surmised. 

“I saw him over toward the old cells a while ago.” An older gentleman answered. He offered you a kind smile that you saw no reason to not return before you entered the door across the way. 

The former cells were being converted into more rooms for the people that still resided in the compound. Today, though, it seemed no one was working on that project. The halls were dark aside from the tiniest bit of light filtering underneath one of the doors. 

“Daryl?” You kept your voice low, suddenly fearing what the shadows could hide. The compound had been cleared of the dead but in the days you were living, fear was almost always justified. 

You reached the door and stared at the space underneath. The light was unsteady, almost vibrating. So, a candle or a match, maybe. 

You tapped a knuckle against the metal door and waited, only to be met with silence. The hinges groaned when you opened the thing, the smell of cigarette smoke and…something else wafting into your face almost instantly. 

You wanted to be relieved that you had found Daryl, but the sight you were met with was anything but relieving. He was sitting against the wall of the cell that you knew without asking had been his. He had shown you before. His lighter was open and burning on the floor, a polaroid lying beside it. But distressing were the obvious tear tracks on his cheeks and the burning end of the cigarette he was pulling away from the top of his hand. 

It was with clear understanding that you moved slowly whilst he repeated the process, burning another deep circle just below his knuckles. He didn't even seem to notice you were there, even when you were sitting on your knees directly in front of him. His vacant gaze wasn’t on you or even on the wounds he was inflicting upon himself. It was settled solemnly on the photo beside the flame. You leaned to see what it was, and your stomach lurched violently. 

Glenn. It was a grizzly photo of Glenn after—

Daryl had told you about this photo, how they had used it to try and break him. How it had nearly worked. 

But…why did he have it? You were sure it had been destroyed. 

Unless—

You closed your eyes, allowing a single tear to cascade down your cheek and fall to the floor. This wasn’t about you. 

“Daryl?” You kept your voice calm and even, gently taking the cigarette from his grasp and putting it out on the concrete floor. His hand and wrist were a mess of circular burns but that could be dealt with later. “Hey, can you look at me?” 

His eyes lingered on the photo for a moment before sliding toward you, his head turning slowly. His gaze was still eerily blank. You took that moment to reach, without looking away from him, and flip over the picture. If you could coax him back to you, you didn’t want to risk him drifting away again by accidentally seeing it. 

“That’s it. Hi.” You cooed softly, caressing his face and brushing back his unruly hair. Recognition was slowly seeping into those gorgeous blue pools. You smiled gently when you felt his hand come to rest on your forearm. 

“Y/N?” His voice was quiet and rough. How long had he been in here? 

“I’m here.” You soothed, continuing to offer small, comforting touches while not invading his space. “Want to tell me where you were just now?” He stared at you for a moment before his carefully placed expression crumbled. Shit. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” You pulled him forward gently, his face in the crook of your neck before his shoulders began to shake with silent sobs. You shouldn’t have asked, not yet. Should have given him more time to fully gather himself in the present and out of this cage. 

So you held him in silence and let him cry, rubbing his back in slow circles. His uninjured hand had released your arm to grip at your open flannel, fingers flexing in the material. You weren’t sure how much time passed and didn’t really care, your full attention on providing grounding and comfort for the man in your arms. He eventually calmed enough to pull away, attempting to turn his head in order to hide the wetness below his eyes but your hand tenderly caught his jaw. You shushed him softly while using both thumbs to wipe away the moisture. 

“What can I do for you, baby?” It was a loaded question. You knew this was more guilt than he was capable of ridding himself of all at once. His talk with Maggie had been a start, but far from the end. Daryl carried things for years before eventually allowing himself to come to terms with the emotions that certain events left for him. Daryl and feelings had never been friends. 

He didn’t answer, not out loud. His eyes moved to the polaroid and remained there, managing to remain dry but no less haunted. Still, you understood. 

Your hand came to rest atop his, lifting it and placing it on the back of the picture. He pinched the edge between his thumb and index finger, and you did the same just beside his, not allowing him to flip it over. You helped guide him the small distance to the lighter, releasing the photo to clasp his wrist in a loose grip as the corner of the polaroid caught fire. Your eyes were on him as he watched the thing burn. For a moment, you thought you’d have to shake his wrist for him to release his hold but he dropped the photo mere seconds before the flames could reach his fingertips. 

Only a small pile of ashes remained when Daryl reached for the zippo and closed the lid, sending you both into complete darkness. Your hand was still on his wrist, holding the connection until he was ready to move. 

“Le’s go.” His voice was quiet and he pulled away from you but you could hear him getting to his feet. You had a split second to worry for him before you felt his fingers lace through your own. He guided you to the door and down the hall, the simple act leaving a bad taste in your mouth. How many times had he come here in the dark to navigate without an ounce of light?

The door opened and your eyes were assaulted with the afternoon sun, forcing you to shield them under your hand. With a squinted glance, you saw Daryl doing the same. You both seemed frozen to the spot while your eyes adjusted. It didn’t take long for people to approach, riddling the archer with questions and concerns of every caliber. He tensed almost violently beside you, his hold on your hand tightening. 

“Hey!” You stepped in front of Daryl and held your hands up placatingly. “I can promise you that Daryl is very adamant in hearing each of your questions and concerns. However, we are fortunate enough to have Rick Grimes in tow today! You’ll find him in the worker’s hall and can direct everything to him in Daryl’s stead today!”

The people seemed more than happy to adhere to your suggestion, shuffling off as one unit to find the former sheriff. You watched them leave and felt your bowman’s arms encircle your midsection. 

“Rick ain’t gon’ like tha’.” He warned from behind your shoulder. 

“Whatever. He loves me. He’ll get over it. Come on.” You took his uninjured hand and pulled him along toward his quarters. Luckily, you ran into no one else on your journey and let out a sigh of relief once the door closed behind you. You leaned against the cool surface and watched Daryl slowly sit down on his bed. 

“Ya already been in here.” It wasn’t a question but you gave a shrug anyway while toeing off your boots. 

“Couldn’t find you. Had to start somewhere.” Disappearing into the small attached bathroom, you grabbed a roll of gauze, a small bowl of cool water, a cloth, and stopped in the kitchen on your way back, hoping to find what you needed. Luck seemed to be on your side. Snatching the back of one of the dinette chairs, you dragged it along with you and placed it in front of Daryl. With your supplies at the ready on the bedside table, you presented your palm and wiggled your fingers expectantly. “Let me see.”

He held out his left hand without argument, wincing when he heard you hiss at the extent of what he had done. “S’not tha’ bad.” He whispered, feeling shame start to nibble away at him. 

“Hey.” You reached to hook a finger under his chin and guide his gaze toward yours. “Don’t do that. You were dealing with your pain. Alone. Maybe we can find some healthier outlets for you together but don’t beat yourself up about this.” The space between you closed for a moment, your lips pressing gingerly to his. “I was only reacting to how much they probably hurt.”

“Okay.” He still sounded doubtful but you could help him work through that a little at a time. 

You set about wetting the cloth and pressing it against the burns as gently as possible. His fingers twitched but he showed no other signs of discomfort. There were at least a dozen new burns but with something to compare it to, there were a few scars already littering the area. How could you have missed this? 

Once you were satisfied that they were clean and the skin cooled, you grabbed the half bottle of organic honey. It was definitely outdated but you had all learned to work with what you had. 

“S’that fer?”

“I am so glad you asked, Mr. Dixon!” You beamed while squeezing small amounts onto your fingertips. “Honey has natural antibacterial properties, as well as a level of hydrogen peroxide, low ph, and high viscosity.” You dabbed a little onto each irritated circle before grinning up at him. 

“Ya sound like a infomercial.” He gave a soft snort and if that was as close to a laugh as you got from him today, you’d take it. You wouldn’t dare let him catch you staring, but he looked truly awful. Dark circles were beginning to form underneath his eyes, and he had lost a little weight. Not much, but enough to be noticeable. He appeared to have aged a decade since the last time you had seen him. 

And that simply would not do. 

“Okay! All done! Oh, wait!!” You secured the gauze with a bit of tape and pulled his hand to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the bandage. “Can’t forget the most important treatment.”

“We kissin’ each other’s boo-boos now?” There was a hint of amusement to his tone that made it clear he didn’t mind. With another quick peck against his lips, you gathered up the mess and walked away. 

“Damn straight, we are. Things are just that serious between us, Dixon.”

On your way back into the room, you paused by the door and engaged the lock, flipping off the lights so that only the natural light from the small windows could filter in. 

“Whatcha doin’? Gotta get back out there—” 

Your finger pressed against his lips to effectively silence him. “Nope.” You snatched the radio from his belt and switched it on. “Get cozy. You’re not leaving for the rest of the day.” Before he could protest, you had pressed the call button on the radio. “Rick, it’s Y/N.”

“Y/N! I’ve been trying to reach Daryl. Have you seen him?”

“I have but he’s taking the night off.”

“Is he alright?”

You smiled softly at the archer from behind the device. “He will be. You got things under control, right, Grimes?”

“Could I talk to him for a second? There’s a situation with—”

You shut off the radio and placed it on the dinette. Daryl was watching you, looking a little nervous. 

“He really ain’t gon’ like tha’.” He drawled. 

“Tough shit. I thought I told you to get cozy?” You shrugged off your flannel, pulled your shirt over your head, and shucked off your jeans. Standing there in your bra and panties, you crossed your arms and cocked an eyebrow until he finally gave in with a tired roll of his eyes. 

Both stripped down to your underthings, you crawled under the blankets first and held them up for him. 

“Ain’t even dark yet.”

“Something tells me you need the extra rest. Now get in here and cuddle me like a man.”

“Yer somethin’ else.” He mused, following the order. You pulled at him until his head was on your chest and an arm draped over your middle. Once your fingers began to run through his long hair, you heard him sigh and felt the tension draining out of him. You couldn’t fix everything in a day but it was a start. Tomorrow, you’d talk to Carol about taking over there so Daryl could come home with you. Then you’d ensure Rick gave him some time off, even if it meant you had to toss the archer into the trunk of a car and steal him away to a remote cabin somewhere. 

“I sure am. You chose this. No refunds, buddy.” This was stone number one, and together, you’d build on it. 

#whumptober 2023 #no.9 #no.27 #polaroid #“let me see.” #the walking dead #fic #self harm #mentions of character death #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon imagine #twd daryl dixon #daryl twd #twd daryl #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon drabbles #the walking dead daryl dixon

[somefanficrecomendations]

i'm feeling devious (you're looking glamorous)

Author: fivecenturiesverse Fandom: Stranger Things

Summary: Steve Harrington is secretly a nerd. He's also, in Eddie's opinion, a massive dick. (Or: five times nobody but Eddie believes that Steve is a giant nerd, and one time he tells everyone else.)

Readers Notes: This fic is light, fluffy, and touchingly real. Amazing writing with great characterization, what’s not to love? The author captures Eddie’s frustration and astonishment beautifully, managing to balance the humor of the situation with a plot that’s lightweight enough to feel approachable and is easily digestible. While this fic isn’t a steddie must read, its definitely a should read.

Rating: Teen   Warning:  N/A   Words: 3,127        Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Additional tags: POV Eddie Munson, 5+1 Things, Steve Harrington is a Little Shit, Steve Harrington is Bad at Flirting, Steve Harrington is a Nerd, Platonically Married Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Mentions of Death, Humor, Fluff

Additional Info:

  Podfic Available by renna_jenkins

#stranger things fic rec #steddie fic rec #steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson x steve harrington #fanfiction #robin buckley #pov eddie munson #5+1 #nerd steve harrington #fluff #mentions of character death #complete #words: 0-5k #fic #podfic available

[slimeranch7]

columbina x signora’s darling x arlecchino.

(update 2022-07-25, i posted part 2 if u horny ppls wanna check it out)

getting sent fanart of columbina x arlecchino sucking faces and my first reaction was "LET ME IN. LET ME IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN" but then i realized the power i have

Content warnings: DEAD DOVE, dubcon

-----

With La Signora’s passing, the Fatui Harbingers gathered, not to mourn, but to plot ahead, like she was nothing more than a sacrifice. Her company had been mostly dissolved, scattering into the reserves, by the time word had arrived that she was slain by the Mussou no Hitotachi. Others deployed into the field alongside her were either captured by the Shogunate, gone AWOL, or were forced to go into hiding. Those lucky enough were able to stick by your side as you snuck aboard a retreating Fatui vessel, back to your frozen homeland. 

When you arrived, you weren’t greeted with warm welcomes, but rather, a subtle kind of hostility, like they wanted to tear you apart. Most of your men were taken without a proper salute, by your master’s coworkers, her fellow Harbingers, and there would be nothing you could do as you watched them get dragged away for briefing. 

“Why, if it isn’t Signora’s favorite little underling!” Amidst the freezing winds of the harbor, you turn to meet the Regrator, 9th of the Fatui Harbingers, and just one position behind your former master’s. He eyes you with mirth and something else you can’t quite place, but you can’t return the gaze, so you kneel and bow to avoid conflict. “I was wondering if you would have stayed by your lady’s side as she got herself killed out there, but, it turns out…” He stops just before you as a show of power. “The dog is not as loyal as her master thought she was.”

“My lord.” You all but say in greeting.

“I admire your self restraint, little doggy.” He continues to provoke you to no avail. You’ve learned to live with the jabs over time, intentionally biting or not, courtesy of your late master. She mellowed down over time, respecting your competence in your field, but her sharp words never truly faded. Pantalone could never hope to become your new master, and you’d fight tooth and nail to make sure of that. Jealous bastard.

“Will you need me for a briefing, my lord?” You choose to ignore his snark, still refusing to give in.

“Maybe you could give me a better description as to what happened to Signora.” He quips. “I’m sure you saw it with your own eyes, if you follow her as closely as they say you do.”

Truthfully, you hadn’t. The only indication your late master’s death was a flaming moth, reminiscent of La Signora, fluttering in your direction, leading you far from the Tenshukaku, when thunder shook the grounds and you willed yourself not to look back, rounding up what men you could save, and evacuating the mission. She’s dead. She’s dead. 

Rosalyne had died.

And I couldn’t even collect her ashes like I promised, you swallow a painful lump in your throat as the moth flickers away into nothing, ship parting from the foreign land she had died in. There was nothing to take in remembrance. Rosalyne had died, and having nothing to remember her by, the memory you wanted to ingrain into your heart would too, extinguish with time.

“I was not present at the time of her passing, my lord. I sincerely apologize for the lack of intel.” Your knees hurt from the salt and snow, your eyes burn and your throat itches to let out a broken sob. Rosalyne is dead, and there’s nothing you can do to bring her back.

“Huh. I suppose there’s no point in looking back then.” The Regrator hums, unconcerned and terribly cruel. You grit your teeth, head still hung low. The harbor winds threaten to freeze your eyes shut. “With her gone, where will the masterless doggy go?”

Where would you go? 

You hoped that Her Majesty, The Tsaritsa, would allow for an early retirement.

Ha. At the ripe age of twenty? Tough luck. “I am unsure, my lord.” You answer.

“I’ll say this much,” He chuckles. “I am resourceful. I am wealthy. I have connections. Under me, your job will be far easier.” The Regrator leans down, dangerously close to catching sight of your frozen tears. “I’ve seen your face, darling. You’re beautiful. I’m sure you’d make a great addition to my company.”

You refuse. “Thank you for your gracious offer, my lord.” Your heart stays with Rosalyne. “But-”

“She’s with us.”

You urge yourself not to shoot straight up to see who had taken claim so quickly. Only when the Regrator rises to full height, do you dare to sneak a peek. The Harlequin and the Dove. Why are they here? 

The Regrator says nothing more and leaves.

“Milady, Arlecchino, Columbina,” You greet, head dipping even lower than before. You’re aware of them to be close associates of Rosalyne’s, but what happens behind closed doors is beyond you. What are they to your late master? What are they to you, if your loyalties will always lie with La Signora, even in death? What are they planning? 

“Come on, it’s colder than normal, today.”

You pause. Your loyalties will always lie with La Signora, even in death, you repeat in your head. “Milady, I apologize, but-”

“The Tsaritsa’s orders.” Arlecchino cuts you off. And who were you to disobey the very goddess Rosalyne dedicated her life to?

-----

“Did Rosalyne ever touch you, like this?”

Shakily, you turn your head sideways, subtly trying to creep away from her fingers prying your lower lips open, almost exposing teeth. “She has not, milady.” You wince as her hands trace lower, onto your neck, then resting on your shoulders. “M-My apologies, milady, I don’t understand the structure of your briefings,” You pause when she ghosts over your chest. “I… don’t see how these questions relate to the mission-”

“Rosalyne loved you.” Arlecchino intercepts bitterly. “She loved you, so she entrusted you to us.”

Rosalyne loved me. Rosalyne loved me. Rosalyne sent that moth. Rosalyne led me away from the Raiden Shogun’s Tenshukaku, away from the Mussou no Hitotachi. Rosalyne faced what should have been your duty, your diplomatic meeting, head on. Rosalyne sacrificed herself, not for the Tsaritsa. Rosalyne sacrificed herself for me. 

You feel like crumbling inside. It should’ve been you. You feel your heart melt and burn and char. You should’ve died in her stead. You feel your heart envelope with frost as cold as her.

Behind you, Columbina rests on the back of your chair, twirling your hair, gently tugging. She leans over to whisper directly into your ears, sending chills down your spine. “Mm. It’s only our duty to show you what she couldn’t.” You bite back an unsophisticated yelp as she licks the shell of your ear, then nibbling. “We’ll take good care of you for Rosalyne, right, Arlecchino?”

The taller girl hums an affirmative. And leans in to press a chaste kiss. For Rosalyne, you think.

Closing your eyes, you tilt your head to meet hers.

#columbina x reader #mentioned signora x reader #angst #mentions of character death #dubcon #just to be safe lol #unhealthy coping mechanisms #arlecchino x reader #dead dove do not eat

[andy-solo1]

A Moment In Time [Peter Parker x Reader]

Pairing: Andrew Garfield Peter Parker x GN! Reader

Words: 741

Warnings: Angst, mentions of character death, cannon typical violence

*****

Peter’s arms were wrapped tightly around you in a near choking embrace, and, if you hadn’t seen the expression on his face before he’d pulled you close, then you would have joked about him using his spider strength to try and crush you to death. 

That expression, when you called out his name and he turned to look at you, his face had gone white, the colour drained from him. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. He looked like he saw someone back from the dead. He looked different, from how you’d seen him just earlier that day. Older, more hardened than he once had been. 

It was only when you felt a tear fall from his face onto the bare skin of your neck did you finally break the silence hanging in the air. 

“Peter? What’s going on? I just saw you, when I went to help you fight Max. How did we end up here?” 

He didn’t respond, only tightened his grip around you as more tears fell against your skin. 

“Peter?” You asked again after a few moments. “What happened?” You asked, more urgency and desperation in your tone. 

“You died.” Peter whispered softly against you. A shiver of cold dropped into your gut and the breath felt like it dropped out of your lungs. You should have been denying the statement, but you knew Peter, he rarely lied to you, if he did it was to protect you. He’d never lie to you about something like this. 

“How?” You asked breathlessly, liking your lips, suddenly feeling like you hadn’t drank in years. “What happened?”

He lets out a shaky breath before speaking. “After we stopped Max, Harry, my- my friend Harry showed up in a suit with a glider. He was so angry that I never gave him my blood to- to save him, so he grabbed you and flew up high with you.” 

You wracked your brain, but you remembered nothing of the young Osborn coming for you. “What then?” You asked quietly.  His arms tightened impossibly more around you and he let out a small sob before his next words. 

“I tried to save you. I tried so hard to catch you when you fell, but I was too late. You fell too far and when I finally caught you…it was too late, I was too slow. You snapped your neck when you hit the ground.” He whispered, his voice breaking at the end. You stood in stunned silence as the confession hovered around you. 

“It wasn’t your fault Peter.” You whispered softly, even as disbelief stirred around in your mind, though you knew deep down it was all true. “You tried to save me, and I could never blame you for that. But, how am I here?” 

He finally let go of you, enough to look you in the eyes, a small, sad smile tugging at his lips. “It took me a long time to realise that you wouldn’t blame me for what happened. I still do, but it’s not as bad as it had once been. As for how you’re here, well, that’s a longer story.” 

You listened as Peter explained to you about the multiverse, and how himself, Max Dillon, Dr. Conners, and some other version of Peter Parker and villains he’d fought had been pulled together into the universe of a third Peter Parker and they were all trying to save the villains before finding a way home. 

“I want to help you guys.” You told Peter once he finished explaining it all. 

“No, I lost you once because you wanted to help. I’m not losing you again.” He pleaded. 

“Peter.” You whispered softly, making him look down at you with such a sad expression you could hardly bear to get out your next words. “Hun, odds are, you will lose me again, when we go home.” 

He shook his head, tears slipping out again. “No, please, there has to be a way to help you too.” 

You raised a hand and caressed his cheek, forcing his gaze to meet yours. You placed a soft delicate kiss against his lips. 

“Peter, it’s going to be okay. If you do lose me again, at least you have this chance, this moment to spend with me. One last time. I love you.” You whispered. He smiled sadly and pulled you close again. 

“I love you too.” He replied softly. “I always have.”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader #angst #mentions of character death #cannon typical violence #andrew garfield spiderman #spiderman no way home #x reader

[boombambaby]

Headcanon: Wompy Bear

Wompy bear was the first toy he’d received from his mother, and the only physical thing he has left of his parents. Once they perished and Yzma was left to raise him, she ordered most of their belongings to be dumped into the sea as a ‘tribute’ to them, under the ancient custom that an Emperor is to carry their belongings into the next life. In reality, she was having it destroyed to make it easier for her to pave her way into becoming an Empress. But Kuzco held on to Wompy for dear life and refused to give him up for any reason. He would bring it everywhere with him; to meals, to baths, to ceremonies and then when he was slightly older, to meetings and tutoring sessions. Royal staff, upon realizing how important the stuffed toy was, made replicates that they would switch it out with when Wompy needed washed or mended. Kuzco as a child didn’t exactly notice the difference, but as he became older and more aware of what they were trying to do, he allowed them to take him from him and pretended as if it didn’t affect him, not to have him. Though he always made sure to get it back when they were finished. It became a comfort item for him, and even now that he’s an adult he holds onto it for comfort and reassurance in difficult times, or when he’s very afraid. This of course isn’t something he readily shares with anyone; he does have a fearless, arrogant, vain Emperor image to keep up, after all.

#kuzco #disney rp #the emperors new groove #roleplayer #the emperors new school #Wompy Bear #Headcanon #MENTIONS: #Yzma #Kuzco's Dad #Kuzco's Mom #TRIGERRS: #Mentions of Character Death #Burial Customs

[imagine-the-energon]

PRIME DIRECTIVES, CHAPTER 1

At 25, she never expected to die.

Well, no. That’s a lie.

By 25, she was surprised she hadn’t died anytime before then. It was like some cosmic being kept pulling her back from that potential brink, not ready to part with their favorite toy just yet.

Except, one day, perhaps they looked away for a second longer than they should’ve, and the consequences… well, they’re the reason why we’re here.

It was a beautiful day. The sun was out, the children were all playing in the park, and she was stuck on a bus, desperately trying to get her outdated phone to charge so she could find her mother’s message about where the book was located in the local library.

It was supposed to be a one-stop trip, but instead, it felt as if the world had gone cold as she looked around. The windows were open to let the cool air in, and she could see traffic was a bit more congested than usual.

Something in her gut told her to stay seated, but the smell of the diesel truck ahead of them was starting to give her a migraine, so she shifted a seat over, standing up to push at least her window closed. The second she touched the window, she realized the emergency latch had popped off and a wrong tap would set the alarm off.

“Ma’am?” she called out hesitantly, trying to get the driver’s attention. “Ma’am, I think this window is busted. The latch-”

Had she looked away from the window, she wouldn’t’ve missed how the traffic lights were blinking, or the desperate look on the truck driver’s face as he tried to stop in time.

As it were, she was thrown into the window she had tried to warn about, her front half leaving the vehicle before being slammed back in it as the bus tipped. She landed harshly against the seats across the aisle, screaming as she swore she heard a crack. Glass was embedded in her stomach, and she couldn’t hear much beyond the screeching of what sounded like the emergency exit alarms.

It hurt to breathe, and she was vaguely aware of people yelling around her, and the jostling sensation of being moved.

It wasn’t until they put her under for emergency surgery that she realized she couldn’t feel her legs.

----------------------------------------

She wasn’t sure when she woke up, or how, just that one moment, she was being put to sleep, and the next, she was sitting in a small cafe, nothing but a cup of coffee in front of her.

She could see a few other people also looking around in confusion. She glanced down at the cut before pushing it away, slowly standing up, the concept feeling… alien to her. After a few shaky steps, she got to the closest person. “Are you ok?” she asked, but the Latina woman suddenly let out a wail.

“¡He muerto! ¡Él me mató! ¡¿Cómo estoy vivo?!”

She never studied Spanish aside from a few Duolingo sessions here and there, but yet, it was like she could understand what was being cried out perfectly, and judging by how a few others went pale, so could the rest.

Slowly, as if nodding to herself, she spoke again, this time to everyone else. “Ok, a show of hands… who here remembers being in some sort of accident, or… or getting killed?”

Her own hand was the only one up at first, but slowly, the other twelve also raised their hands. She let out a shaky breath, dread building up as she glanced around. There was no one else, save for the barista.

Glancing back at the others, she moved forward, the barista looking up immediately. He had a sad look on his face but otherwise held a smile. “Anything else I can do for you, ma’am?”

“Where are we?” She asked, making him blink.

“New York,” he replied. “Are you alright?”

“I think I’m dead.” It slipped out so easily, she couldn’t even be shocked by it. “Are you the Grim Reaper?”

He set down the cup of coffee he was making (it looked similar to the one she had, except there was some swirling blue liquid in it) and sighed. “You always were perceptive, Purity.”

“That’s not my name,” she protested, but yet she couldn’t deny the feeling of rightness she had felt when he had said that. “My name is Ashley.”

“Ashley,” he corrected. “You’re not dead. Not quite. You’re all in a state of limbo, between life and death.”

The woman had stopped crying by then, and she looked furious. “¡Mándame de vuelta! ¡Llévame de vuelta ahora mismo para que pueda matar a ese hijo de puta!”

But the man shook his head. “I can’t take you back to your previous life, but I can continue it back where you were supposed to be.”

Ashley stared at him, jaw slack as the implications hit her. “I got truck-kun’d,” she muttered. “How long have you been trying to get us? And why us and not others?”

“Because you’re my creations. You weren’t supposed to be like this. You were supposed to be better .”

She shook her head. “No. No! Only I can call myself useless, got it? I don’t even know who you fucking are!” The second she stopped talking, he just looked at her with bright, unnatural yellow eyes. He was human, but his eyes…

His eyes were alien.

“You know my name,” he started as she took a step back, shaking her head. “All of my children do. Especially you twelve,” he turned to the others, motioning to them one at a time. “Prima. Alpha. Vector. Nexus. Solus. Mortilus. Alchemist. Amalgamous. Onyx. Micronus. Quintus. Septimus.”

She knew those names as if they were seared into her very soul.

“Dynasty of Primes,” she whispered. It tickled her mind, reminding her of the memories she had forgotten over the years. The amazement and hope she had felt. “You’re trying to say you’re Primus? A fictional god?”

He let out a deep chuckle. “I am not trying. I am saying.”

She blinked, and suddenly, she was in nothingness, floating in pitch-black darkness, only able to see herself and nothing else. It looked like she was falling, but the sensation wasn’t around. Slowly, the darkness shifted, and she was face to face with… what could only be described as a giant eye. It was the size of a bus, and that same alien yellow as before.

The eye shifted back, revealing a giant robotic face. The top of the robot’s helm was blue, with a blue chin guard, and all of the kibbles across its shoulders were spires and towers. She couldn’t begin to describe just how massive the robot was, only that its presence didn’t frighten her. Rather, it was comforting.

When the robot spoke, the mouth didn’t move, but his voice surrounded her, practically vibrating all of her bones. Do you believe me now, Purity?

“Why do you call me that?” she asked once her throat felt like she could finally breathe.

It is what you should have been. It is what you are. It is what you always will be.

She bit back a scoff; in what world has she ever been considered pure? Regardless- “Are the others also getting this treatment?” she asked instead, and the mech shook his head.

They are remembering their previous life in the world they were supposed to be in.

“You named eleven of them after the original Thirteen,” she commented. “Excluding Megatronus and Liege Maximo, of course.”

They were taken from before they could return to the Well. I sent you to find them.

Her eyes narrowed. “All those accidents. Were they you?”

I prevented you from leaving before it was time. None of the others were ready yet.

“I wasn’t ready,” she protested, and he had such a look of pity, even she knew she was lying through her teeth. She had been ready since she was 11 and diagnosed with bone tumors. “I’m just a human. Why me?”

You are more than you think, Purity.

One of his hands came up, and she could’ve easily fallen through the cracks of his plates, but instead, she was now standing on his palm. “So I’m, what, dying and have to choose to stay and die or, what, continue living in a world I know I won’t survive in?”

You will survive. You must.

She shook her head. “I don’t even know what year it would be in! Before 2007? Oh, look, there’s Sector Seven and their “if it’s alien, it’s ours” policy. I wouldn’t be considered human in their eyes if it got out the information that I know. The years from 2007 to 2014 are ok, and great for gay rights, but from 2015 onwards? Cemetary Wind going and killing any Cybertronians regardless of faction? That’s not even talking about human allies! So I get sent to that world, I have a maximum of seven years to live depending on where I get placed if I accept.”

No harm will come to you.

“And the others?” She demanded, crossing her arms. “There are twelve supposedly Cybertronians turned human who are about to be thrusted back into that world. Are you going to put them back to their hypothetical original race? Or are you going to have them remain human and be torn between two species?”

If their human body is intact, that is their choice.

She could somewhat understand that and nodded. “How many and who can’t be human anymore?”

Solus, Amalgamous, Onyx, and Septimus will return as descendants of their former selves.

At least four had to go through identity crises just to be told they can’t be human anymore. She felt sick to her stomach. “And me? I get to remain human, right?”

You must. It will be your job to connect the races. You must stay hidden in plain sight.

“So I stay human and become The Liasion?” she joked. “As tempting as that is, I… I can’t. I can’t just leave my family like that.”

But they have already left you?

For a god, she could hear the confusion and anger in his voice, causing her to sigh. “We’re… tight on money. If it comes between being in debt with a brain-dead daughter or pulling the plug, I hope they do the latter.”

Would they not wish for you to be happy?

She hesitated and hated the fact that she did so. “My father would’ve,” she finally whispered. It had been him and her eldest sister who introduced her to the Transformer’s franchise, and it had been them who encouraged her to do what she loved.

You will find happiness with the rest.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath..

How long had she been unhappy? How long had she cried herself to sleep? How long has she felt like she never belonged?

When was the last time she had been able to be herself?

When she opened her eyes, she could see the mech smiling down at her, and she gave a watery grin back. “What year are we going to then?”

----------------------------------------

Six chose to remain as humans, while two transitioned back to Cybertronians. Most noticeable was Solus and Nexus, Nexus remaining a human while Solus declared herself his guardian. The others paired up, leaving her alone, but as she was left in a small cottage on the outskirts of a forest, she supposed it was for the best, especially with the giant pile of paperwork she had been given to sort through.

Beside that were her black laptop, a smartphone, and a smaller manilla folder. The phone buzzed once, then twice, then it was a never-ending stream.

With a sigh, she picked it up, noticing the giant group chat.

[COMM DEVICE 6]: So… was all of that a weird fever dream?

[SECURED PHONE 4]: You mean where we’re all actually 50-foot tall aliens with half of us stuck in human bodies?

[SECURED PHONE 2]: OH THANK GOD IT WASN’T JUST ME

[COMM DEVICE 3]: Sound off, who is who?

As they introduced themselves, she turned, booting up her laptop and looking over the giant files first. The first bit was false documents, birth certificates, passports, all that jazz. The second was the stuff she’d get in trouble with Earth's government for having, while the third would definitely put her on the squish list.

Her phone gave a final buzz, causing her to look over at it before quickly changing the numbers to the names provided.

Mortilus: So the human who was with us is Phone 1 then?

She bit her lip before sighing and beginning to type.

[SECURED PHONE 1]: You may call me Ashley. I have the documents for those who are human, seeing as I am supposed to act as a bridge between our species.

Nodding to herself, she added that she’d be turning off her phone to get used to her surroundings and that she still had access to her emails if they needed her. Looking around, she realized just how right she was to call it a cottage. There were two rooms downstairs; the first one being a living room/kitchen area, which had a sliding door open to reveal a burnt orange. 1970-style muscle car parked along a gravel driveway that wound through trees. There was a small staircase in the corner of the room, and when she peeked upstairs, she found another two rooms. The staircase led directly up to the bedroom, a door on the opposite end of the bed. A quick peek in there told her it was a bathroom with an attached closet. It was roughly the same area as the other room downstairs was also a bathroom, but only a half-bath.

The best, or, perhaps, worst, thing was that everything was decorated exactly how she loved it. The pillows on the chairs and blankets were thrown onto the couch for no apparent reason - it was like she had been the one who decided where everything went.

Feeling too unnerved, she left the cabin and walked outside, pausing as she realized that she could actually walk without feeling severe pain. But yet, her chest burned as if-

She was frozen for only a second before she bolted into the first-floor bathroom, ripping off her shirt, bile rising up at the sight of the numerous scars on her, her once brown hair now a more silvery-blue tint.

The most noticeable was a giant Y across her collarbone that went down between her breasts, ending at her naval.

“Fuck,” she whispered, the stitches flaring to life a second later, causing her to cry out in pain. She fell to her knees, curling up as much as she dared, After the initial wave of pain washed away, she all but crawled out of the bathroom, fumbling for her phone.

[SECURED PHONE 1]: Cybertronians, scan your humans. NOW.

She could feel something warm trickling down her stomach as she let the phone slip between her fingers as she leaned against the table leg, trying to catch her breath between the sharp bouts of pain from the dissection wounds. Or would it be vivisection, considering she was alive with them now?

She could hear her phone ringing, blaring a ringtone she vaguely knew, but couldn’t be bothered to answer. She knew that something wasn’t right if she was passing out, but, well, she also didn’t do blood, and seeing that on your body was definitely a way to knock that trigger out of the ballpark.

And so, as she lay bleeding, she felt a deep pulse within her soul...

#Transformers #Prime Directives #The Failed Fix-it fic #Original Characters #Fanfiction #fanfic #writing #Transformers Fanfic #Transformers Bayverse #Bayverse #Primus #Dynasty of Primes #maccadam #mentions of character death #dissection #Prime Directives Fic

[on-coming-dusk]

sad thought hour (for my Zombie AU)

Wayne Munson knowing that his boy got bit, knowing that there is only going to be a little while before he's turned and...

Eddie grabbing his arm, looking up at him with tear filled brown eyes, telling him, "Kill me. Please, kill me then get the hell out of here Wayne. Please. You can't die too you need to find Gareth and get to the safety zone. Please Wayne."

Wayne staring at his kid, surrounded by the now full dead zombies, knowing the general direction that Gareth ran but not knowing what he was going to find if he went looking. Staring at his kid who he failed to protect, Eddie got bitten protecting him, because he wasn't paying attention and he got pinned and...

Wayne raised his shotgun, bringing the butt of it down against his temple with enough force to send him crumpling to the ground. He gave himself a moment to breathe, to try to steady the way his hands shook, to stare at his nephew and the small trail of blood that ran from his forehead where the gun made contact, the other that came from the bite mark on his forearm.

They were so close to the safety zone. Detroit was only a couple of days away by foot now. And Eddie was never going to make it there. It had been months now, their journey had left them turned around and lost several times but they pulled through. They got back on track, they were going to make it, until now.

Wayne grabbed his pack, his flashlight, the last couple of items that were still scattered around their camp. He was going to find Gareth, get that boy back to his parents. He couldn't fail him too. He turned back to Eddie, raising his gun to fulfill his boy's last wishes. He pressed his finger against the trigger...

Then he turned around, walking away without a single glance back. Maybe it was selfish. He knew Eddie was already gone, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He headed down the path that Gareth ran down, trying to force rhythm back into his breath and control back into his hands knowing that when his boy came to he wasn't going to be his boy anymore.

:((

Anyways that's sad hour over here i'm so sorry

#stranger things writing #stranger things #zombie au #stranger things zombie au #wayne munson #eddie munson #gareth stranger things #mentions of character death #fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #my writing #writing #my fanfiction #work in progress

[wreywrites]

Tiger Shark

Part 7: The Sail

Chapter 46

We leave Cassia with the Leegs. There’s a limited number of people we trust to keep an eye on her when so many rebels would hear her name and want her punished for her father’s investment in the Hunger Games, and most of our trusted friends will be in this meeting. So she stays with the Leegs, playing cards in our room.

Johanna walks to the meeting with us. None of us say it, but I know we are all hoping that there are more survivors out there than just the ones living in the mansion. We’re victors, after all. If nothing else, we know how to survive. But then we walk into the room and there are thirteen chairs around the table.

Coin is already seated in one of them, a small stack of loose papers in front of her.

We sit across from her, as far away as possible, Finnick, then me, then Johanna. Cecelia comes in next and sits by Johanna, then Gloss, Cashmere, and Alvan by Finnick. Peeta comes in with Beetee, then Enobaria by herself. How she is still alive, I have no idea. Finally, Katniss and Haymitch arrive, and all the chairs are full.

Is this really it? I remember a funeral full of victors, fifty-six of us, mourning Megary. And now there are twelve of us, and we all have the same broken look in our eyes. Even Enobaria looks different than I remember her. I still think she’d be willing to rip someone’s throat out with her teeth, but she looks… tired.

Coin steeples her fingers in front of her. “I have asked you all here because you are the remaining victors. You are uniquely qualified to make the decision that lies before us today.”

I don’t like the sound of this. I’m tired of being special just because I knew how to swim.

Apparently, two options face us today. Some of the rebels want to execute those involved with the Hunger Games: Gamemakers, financial supporters, style teams, escorts, the scientists who designed the mutts, the Capitol’s most prominent citizens, all of them. Some of the rebels want leniency. Snow has been removed from power. The districts have won. The next president can outlaw the Hunger Games and we can be done. Compromise, however, seems unlikely.

Then Coin presents her plan for justice: the Seventy-Sixth Hunger Games, featuring the children of the Capitol’s most prominent citizens and highest government officials. “I believe this is an acceptable compromise, delivering justice to the proponents of the Hunger Games, while avoiding the barbaric executions of all involved.”

She pauses while we digest this.

“Your individual votes will be kept confidential, of course, though it will be announced that the victors made this decision.” Coin shuffles the sheets of paper in front of her.

The old victors stiffen. I’ve never been in a meeting with Snow, but from the reaction everyone else but Katniss and Peeta has, this is a familiar power move.

Coin leans back in her chair. “As there are an even number of victors, my vote, as interim president, will be the tiebreaker. And I must vote for these Games.”

“No!” Peeta practically yelps.

All I can see is Cassia Vickers standing in the arena.

Johanna is trying hard to look impassive. “I vote yes.”

“I vote no with Peeta.” I stare around at everyone else. “How can you say this is not barbaric? We’re no better than the Capitol if we agree to this!”

“No,” Finnick says firmly. “No more Games.”

Coin is giving Finnick and me something just beyond the neutral look of displeasure.

“Give them a taste of their own medicine,” Enobaria says. “Yes.”

From the look in Johanna’s eyes, having Enobaria agree with her almost makes her change her vote.

“No,” Cecelia says. “I’m the only person here with kids, and let me tell you all, you cannot imagine how horrible it is to think they might someday face the arena. I would never do that to anyone. Not even the Gamemakers.”

Coin picks up the stack of papers, taps one edge on the table, straightening them.

Alvan’s hands, resting on the edge of the table, are shaking. Finnick is breathing too fast.

“Yes.” Gloss sounds defeated.

Cashmere echoes him, her whispered “Yes” barely audible.

“No. We’re better than the Capitol,” Beetee says. “We rebelled and we won and now we have to prove that we are the better choice. Another Hunger Games will not do that.”

Alvan nods, hands still shaking, staring through the table. “We- we gotta be better’n they were. No.”

We are all looking at Katniss and Haymitch.

Katniss volunteered for her sister. Katniss just watched her sister die. Katniss wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

“Yes. For Prim.”

My hands ball into fists.

“I’m with the Mockingjay.”

I want to scream. Or maybe strangle Haymitch.

I do neither as Coin nods once and says, “Good. It’s decided. It will be announced this afternoon after the execution of Coriolanus Snow.” She stands and leaves the room, leaving the rest of us in shocked silence.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

Cassia is playing tag with Tilly, Edie, and Bax.

“What do we do now?” Finnick has his head in his hands. “Do we tell her? Do we pretend we didn’t know? Do we hope for the best? Maybe she won’t get drawn?”

I bite back a bitter laugh. “Titus Vickers? They’ll draw her. You and I both know the reaping was easy to rig before and you can be sure they’ll rig this one. Snow’s granddaughter, Caesar Flickerman’s youngest, Cassia, they’ll draw them all. Honestly, I think Plutarch’s lucky he doesn’t have any kids.”

“What if we left?”

“What, walk back to Four?”

“No, just left the mansion. We could find a place to keep low until… until it’s done.”

Before we can debate the merits of this plan, Cressida and the Leegs arrive. Cressida to inform us that Coin wants us in our rebel uniforms for the execution and that they have been returned to our room, and the Leegs to stay with Mark and the kids, since they are wanted at the ceremony, but not to stand by the victors. Cassia will go with them, with their solemn oath they'll keep her safe.

Once dressed, we join the others and take a hovercraft to the City Center at the end of Victor’s Way. They give us places of honor in the front row as the crowds fill in, down the length of the street. I clutch Finnick’s hand.

Katniss walks out on the ground level, only ten yards away from where Snow is tied to a post. He is smiling.

I force myself to watch. This is the man who has taken so much from me. I will watch him die.

Katniss readies the arrow, takes careful aim, and shoots Coin.

****

****

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

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Tag List:

@avoxrising @snow-dragon-rider @anakins-ride-or-die

#wrey writes #the hunger games #thg: tiger shark #annie cresta #finnick odair #ptsd #character death #mentions of character death #it wasn't a conscious choice to have 12 survivors #but i like that it worked out that way #it's got some nice symmetry

[telemna-hyelle]

Like Patience on a Monument

I said I woke up and had angsty Legend/Fable thoughts, so here they are. 

Have some Fable pining!

I was partly inspired by one of my favorite zelink animatics of all time: Strawberry Blonde by Becky Weber on youtube. It’s the best go watch it.

And don’t worry, you know me! The fic has a happy ending. It just has a rather large amount of sad to get through first.

She was twelve when she met him, when he unlocked her cell door and knelt before her on the dank stones. When he took her hand and assured her he’d heard her voice.

She was twelve, and it was little wonder that her heart beat faster for some reason other than fear as he led her by the hand through the dungeons to safety. Or when he wrapped his cloak around her to make sure she stayed warm and dry. Or when….

Well. He wasn’t making this easy.

Then Ganon was defeated, and in the resulting peace afterwards, Link would be constantly stopping by; often bringing her apples from his orchard.  Then, as she sat and enjoyed her treat, he’d play her music on his ocarina, or tell her stories: moments from his own journey or outlandish tales he’d heard from travelers from far away.

She could see the sparkle in his eyes when he spoke of those other countries, and so she was ready to smile and wave him off when he set off for distant lands.

She prayed for him every morning, and tried not to miss him too much. That was impossible, though, so she settled for putting on a smile and getting things done. It was better than moping around the castle and staring moodily at the apple trees in the garden for daring to not taste half so good, after all.

Sometimes she’d daydream that he was missing her, too, and wondered what he would say when he saw her again.

Then the Twinrova snatched her up, and Link saved her again.

This time, however, she borrowed a little of Link’s courage, squeezed her eyes shut, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Her face turned a brilliant scarlet as she leaned back, her heart frantically jumping in her throat—

But Link was blushing just as much, a silly grin on his face, and Zelda felt like she was flying through the clouds.

They had to say goodbye then, however, because Link’s feet were still itching to wander. “I’ll take the sea route back,” He said with a grin, “And you can take the land route, and we’ll see who gets home first! It’ll be like a race.”

That sounded fun, so Zelda agreed. She hugged him goodbye on the pier, waved happily until his little boat disappeared over the horizon, and then ran to Impa to tell her they were leaving.

She missed him this time, but it was a different sort of missing, a missing full of anticipation for what would happen when they saw each other again. Each night she thought of Link’s reaction to her kiss, and felt a warm, bright feeling slowly unfold in her heart, like a seed opening into a seedling.

As she fell asleep, she curled about this seedling of emotions, clutching it close to her chest, but she didn’t quite dare to give it a name.

When Zelda arrived back in Hyrule, Link was nowhere to be found. At first Zelda was ecstatic. She’d won their race, and when Link returned she’d tease him for weeks.

But Link didn’t return.

……………………………………….

She waited, and waited, and waited, and with each morning she awoke and saw Impa shake her head sadly, another crack formed in her heart.

She had trouble sleeping, and trouble eating, but she forced a smile on her face and dove into her work, trying and trying to distract herself from the whirling thoughts in her head.

They served apple tarts for desert one day, and she burst into tears after taking one bite.

Then, one day, a traveler showed up at the door. The guards eyed his rather bedraggled appearance uncertainly, but he was bearing the symbol of the royal family, so they let him in.

The knock came hesitantly on her door, and Zelda was already rushing towards it when it swung open—she knew that sound, and hearing it again after beginning to think she never would—

And though she knew it was him from the moment she heard the knock, she wasn’t prepared for what it would be like to see him again, sunburned and tattered but there. She flung herself towards him with a sob, and he caught her in his arms, and they clung to each other and cried. And in his embrace, Zelda could feel all those little cracks healing, warmth and relief and joy smoothing them over like clay over cracked pottery.

Then she’d pulled back, and smiled, at him, and he’d smiled back… but the smile wasn’t right.

She’d pulled him to her window seat, and they sat there for hours, Zelda holding his hands as he stared out the window.

At the feel of his hands in hers she felt none of the bubbly pitter-patter of her twelve-year-old heart; this time she only felt cold and aching and dreadfully afraid.

And then, as the sun began to sink towards the horizon, casting the world in a glaze of bittersweet orange, he spoke. “Her name was Marin.” He said. “And I loved her.”

And all the little cracks that had just begun to heal over broke again, and Zelda’s heart shattered.

She held him, for hours, as he drenched her shoulder with tears, and she cried with him. With each droplet that fell, her heart broke anew; for him, for her, for the Marin that was lost.

She was sad, and lonely, and furious at herself for hurting when he was the one hurting, and aching so terribly because she couldn’t even be happy for him. Because there was no happiness here to be had.

At last his tears ran out, and she wiped the traces away. Zelda wrapped him in a blanket as snugly as Link had once wrapped her in his cloak, and she called for warm tea and smiled and told him the news of the realm, trying to distract him. From his pain. From hers.

It was dawn by the time they finished talking, and Link insisted on going home to rest then.  So Zelda stood at the gate to the castle and waved him away as he disappeared around the bend in the road.

Then she turned, and ran. Across the moat and courtyard, down the hallways of the castle, until she reached the room and locked the door.

Then Zelda crumpled onto the floor and cried for all the broken pieces of her heart, at the loss of all that she had ever wanted; and she hated herself for her selfishness.

……………………………………….

Time passed.

Link began to smile again, but he’d… changed. Now he hid behind a prickly wall, poking and prodding and teasing to prevent being poked and prodded himself. He was never this way to Zelda, of course—with her he was always kind and respectful, but… it was different. He was different.

Zelda couldn’t afford to be different. She had to smile and hide her own heartbreak, because she could never let him know he’d broken her heart by mistake. It wasn’t his fault he loved someone else.

Still. She ached. But not just for herself, for him as well, to see him so pained and changed.

She wished he would find happiness, even if it was with some other lady, just so long as he was happy. She wanted so badly to be happy for him, because then he would be happy, and all would be well. Her feelings didn’t matter now.

Another adventure came and went, and Link seemed to let the sudden departure of his newest friend—his counterpart from Lorule—roll of his back like water on a duck. But Zelda saw how he trailed into the castle, shoulders slumped, when the emptiness of his house became a little too much.

When Link wasn’t around, Zelda cried for him because he wouldn’t. First the loss of the love of his life, and then that of his best friend—she couldn’t even fathom the hurt he was shouldering.

But eventually that got better too, and whenever Link came around, he came with a snarky smile and a confident swagger, and his shoulders were no longer straining to hide their slump.

He began genuinely joking again, grinning and eyes sparkling as he told her stories of his adventures in Lorule and Holodrum and Labrynna, stories she never got to hear before, because of their decision to race each other home. He would bring her apples, or play her tunes on his ocarina, and Zelda felt some of her worry wash away.

She watched the sparkle in his eyes, and smiled knowingly, and braced herself for when he’d bring a girl to the castle to introduce her. Zelda vowed to be ready, so when he smiled and laughed and held that girl’s hand, she could smile and laugh with him.

Then one day… Link stopped coming.

Zelda felt the old dread from years ago crawling back, but she gritted her teeth and shouldered it. She had to have trust in Link, that he was all right, that the strange, extra-strong monsters she sent him out to investigate were nothing to his courage and cleverness.

So she worked, and worked, and kept smiling for her people, and set the fear aside with the bruised and broken pieces of her heart. She tucked it in a corner where she could control it, rather than let it control her, so she could hold it and breathe and face it at her own pace.

But she avoided the apple trees in the gardens, and Impa instructed the cooks not to bring her apple tarts.

And then… a letter arrived.

Zelda opened it, and read it, and she cried. For Link was all right, except he was Legend, now. He was on a new adventure, and he wasn’t alone—he’d made friends. Brothers. People who could be there for him, who could have his back, who could lend a shoulder when Zelda wasn’t there to do so.

And, at the end of the letter, he’d written,

Love,

Legend

 Zelda smiled at the signature. It was a bittersweet smile, a little achy and thin, and she tried not to think of how she would have reacted several years ago.

That was all right. It hurt a little bit, but not too much. She was mostly simply glad that he could express such things again, and not hide behind his prickly wall.

So she tucked the letter away in a little drawer besides her bed, and beat furiously at the thoughts that whispered foolish and selfish and hopeless, refusing to let them bother her.

Then Zelda settled down to wait for Legend’s adventure to wind its way around back to her time, content as she could manage to be.

……………………………………….

The knock came at her door, bright and eager, and Zelda was already running towards the door when it swung open. Before she could even blink Legend had swept her up in a hug, twirling her around once before dropping her on the floor.

Zelda shrieked, and smacked his shoulder, and gave him a righteous kick to the ankle for good measure, but they both were laughing.

“You’re back!” She’d said, blinking furiously to hide the urge to cry.

“For a little bit.” He smirked, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “Wanna meet the rest of the idiots I’m traveling with?”

“Of course!” Zelda gasped, bouncing a little with excitement at the thought of meeting all these legendary heroes, and Legend grinned.

“C’mon, then, I’ll introduce you.” And he took her hand in his, pulling her down the hallway after him.

And Zelda…

Zelda felt the feel of his hand wrapped around hers. She looked at the sparkle in his eyes, and the grin on his face.

She felt her heart skip and patter, and with every little joyful beat Zelda felt a crack begin to smooth over.

And with every step, she felt something she had almost forgotten wake up again; that warm, seedling-unfolding sensation in her heart, the one she’d never dared to name.

Zelda had a name for it now, and she called it hope.

……………………………………….

#linked universe #lu fable #lu legend #legend/fable #fable/legend #legendxfable #fablexlegend #tellie writes stuff #my fanfics #the title is a quote from one of my favorite shakespeare quotes #gee i wonder why #and i wonder why i wrote something like this #ahahahaha #ignore me pls #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #mentions of character death #mentions of marin/link #pining #unrequited love #then! #requited love #happy endings

[asmodeus-682]

A Lord Lunar AU I made

In this AU "Lord Lunar" or as he is titled in his realm "Prince Lunar" is a young kid; around 2 to 4 years old. Golden Freddy being his royal advisor and the only other person there that had been around since before the world was reset.

How the world reset

Simply putting it, Lunar had accidentally reset the world when trying to get rid of Eclipse. In doing so not only did he eradicate almost everyone else; but also got reverted to a younger age. Golden Freddy had found P!Lunar crying and hugging a seemingly normal Monty Plush. This plush actually being the star. Goldie felt bad for Lunar and chose to raise him and aid in ruling the newly made kingdom.

Prince Lunar's Powers

Lunar has 2 main Powers he can control in this AU; levitation and teleportation. Along with this he has one he is unable to control, that being reflecting his sadness onto others when he cries (similar to Blue Diamond's ability in SU) which due to his grief and being a kid is relatively common. He also has enhanced hearing but I don't count it as a power more of a small feature he has as a result of the star's powers.

Kingdom scenery

The Kingdom is different shades of dark blue and purple; along with this there is a constant cloudy sky. To the point of people never being able to tell if it's day or night. The buildings all look rather calm despite the gloomy atmosphere of the Kingdom.

That is all for now, might elaborate further and make art of Prince Lunar (and possibly Advisor Goldie too) at some point. Along with naming this au

#sun and moon show #sun and moon show lunar #sams lunar #sams #golden freddy #sams golden freddy #sams au #tw grieving #mentions of character death #sun and moon show au #sun and moon show Golden Freddy

[bespectacled-bookwyrm]

2023 Whumptober 14

Summary: They must make their escape.

Written for the 2023 Whumptober event!

#Whumptober2023 #No.14 #“Just hold on.” #Darkest Dungeon #Fanfic #Blood #Violence #Pigs #Swinefolk #Mentions of character death #The Plague Doctor #The Flagellant #The Abomination #The Swine #The Warrens

[indi-ice-cube]

🏜️ 🚗 🎢 

 in the feels again 

warnings: Discussion of Character Death, Grief

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redacted vincent #mentions of character death #grief/mourning #gender neutral characters

[prokopetz]

Crowdfunded metroidvania with a "put your OC in the game" support tier, but in order to avoid the "gameworld populated exclusively by tonally inappropriate weirdos who constantly talk about how their quest is so much more important than yours" syndrome that's afflicted similar projects in the past, what you're actually buying is for your OC to be one of the corpses the player character loots an upgrade from. Available options include "embedded head-first in the ground at the base of a tall cliff with only your legs sticking out", "pinned to a wall by several enormous spikes directly across from an obvious spike-launching trap", and "pile of bleached bones with inexplicably mostly-intact clothing at the bottom of a giant pool of acid".

#concepts #gaming #video games #metroidvanias #crowdfunding #game design #character design #ocs #violence mention #death mention

[kathaynesart]

TMNT AU COMPETITION - CONTEXT COMICS: COMIC 1 - COMIC 2 - COMIC 3 - COMIC 4 - COMIC 5

Don't mind, Omega. He's just being dramatic. Thank you so much @abbeyofcyn and @thegunnsara for pulling me into this hilarious mashup as well as @kittynomore @tapakah0 @hylwicks and @isaacz for letting their characters be a part of it! Figured I would use this opportunity to do my Replica introduction as well!

The @tmntaucompetition has barely even started and I am already overwhelmed by the amount of asks and support I've received! Thank you everyone! There are so many things I want to respond to, but I just don't have the time!

However I am so excited to get to interact with some of you! I'll be sure to respond to a few more that reference Omega directly when I can (looking at you @intotheelliwoods and @karonkar )!

Also, please don't destroy my asks trying to offer chew toys to Donnie... it's too late. His fate has been sealed. He's in autistic robot hell now. Goodnight sweet prince.

Also also, uh... THAT one image? Don't think about it too hard. :)

#I love me some impending doom symbolism #everything is great! #no problems here #on with the competition! #I don't know what Rep!Leo and Fracture!Donnie are talking about #but Rep!Leo is so happy to be by his twin again #tmnt au competition #tmnt au propaganda #rottmnt replica #replica #rottmnt #kathaynesart #save rottmnt #blood #tw blood #character death mention #tw character death

[lizkreates]

Reflection ~A Trigun fan comic~ (Comic Script in the Keep Reading)

Context note: This takes place just after the events of TriMax Vol 10 on Brad’s ship going to December. I’m giving them more time on the trip because Livio grew a full-ass beard between pickup and drop-off (prob because of his healing factor, who knows.) Enjoy!

Vash's coffee is a reference to my first comic Black Coffee & Donuts!

Comic Script for Reflection: A Trigun Fan Comic

PAGE 1

Panel 1: Vash, with his hair down and dressed in his black undersuit, wakes up startled in a cold sweat. He clearly slept poorly bags under his eyes. It’s only been a day or two since he laid Wolfwood to rest.

Panel 2: A full body shot of him stepping out of the bed, his Colt weight down his hip, face obscured.

Panel 3: He leans over the counter in front of a mirror, shoulders hunched, head hanging.

Panel 4: He looks up, hand covering the remaining blonde of his hair so it appears full black. Large pale portraits of Rem and Wolfwood flank Vash on each side in the background.

Vash: Rem, Wolfwood, you both sacrificed everything. Funny isn’t it that I’m beginning to look more like you?

PAGE 2

Panel 1: Vash flashes back to a moment when he and Wolfwood walked side by side in the arid desert of No Man’s Land.

Vash: Wolfwood, you were there every day by my side, now I'm alone again. 

Panel 2: Another flashback to a moment Vash and Wolfwood sat on the edge of a rooftop and looked out over the cityscape to the stars pricking the sky.

Vash: There was so much unsaid between us.

Panel 3: A fresh flashback to the couch, where Vash held Wolfwood's hand in his final moments.

Vash: I wish I had known how to tell you that I loved you before it was too late.

Panel 4: A dramatic crop of half of Vash’s lower face, tears streaming down his cheeks as he cries out.

PAGE 3

Panel 1: Livio, a tall, tan, broad-shoulder, white-haired man with a tribal tattoo over his left eye, dressed in a white shirt and black pants, bursts through the bedroom door concerned.

Livio: Mr. Vash, I heard crying, are you okay?!

Panel 2: Vash looks over, a little comically rattled and surprised

Vash: Livio?

Panel 3: Close-up of Vash’s lower face smiling, a tear rolling down his face.

Vash: I’m alright.

Panel 4: A blank Panel, filled with still air

Vash: Actually.

Panel 5: Big Panel, Vash crying into the crook of his arm.

Vash: I'm not... I miss him. I can’t stop missing him.

PAGE 4

Panel 1: Vash rubs the tears from his eyes, Livio grabs his arm shamefully, his body language clearly showing regret and discomfort.

Livio: I’ll uh, leave you to it, and see myself out.

Vash: It’s okay, I just didn’t want anyone to see me like this.

Panel 2: Close-up of Livio looking down.

Livio: It’s better to let yer feelin’s out than to hide ‘em and let ‘em fester, I should know.

Panel 3: Livio turns to the side and a sad snot stream runs down his nose he was trying to keep in. Livio is very much struggling allowing himself to miss Wolfwood. He doesn’t feel like, he should even though he desperately does.

Sounds effects: sniff

Vash: Now who’s keeping in their feelings? Let it out! He was your friend too, wasn’t he? You deserve to cry too.

Panel 4: Livio smiles sheepishly. He wants to make Wolfwood proud of him first.

Livio: Yeah, I suppose he was, all this time. But I don’t think I’ve earned that right yet.

Panel 5: Livio’s stomach growls LOUDLY. Draw in a chibi style, breaking the tension.

Sound effects: grumble

Panel 6: Drawn in chibi style, Vash waves around his noddle arms and Livio’s mood brightens, grinning with excitement.

Vash: Oh, are you hungry?

Livio: Hell yeah, I am!

Vash: What would you like?

Livio: Uh, pancakes!

Vash: Alright, pancakes it is!

PAGE 5

Panel 1: They sit down and eat at a retro 50s-style diner booth in a small nook of the ship. Livio swirls the last of his pancake in syrup on the plate. Vash cradles a black coffee with both hands looking at Livio.

Vash: Hey, Livio, what do you want to do when this is all over?

Livio: Dunno, maybe wander around for a while or return to the orphanage to help make up for what I and the other guy did.

Panel 2: Livio hangs his head, eyebrows worried.

Livio: If I can be honest with ya, I'm scared to face them.

Panel 3: Zoomed out drawn in chibi style to break the tension. Livio shivers.

Vash: Is that scarier than Elendira?

Sound effects: shivers

Panel 4: They laugh.

Livio: Well, when ya put it like, hell no!

Vash: Haha!

Panel 5: Extreme close-up of Livio’s eyes softening as he remembers back to his time at the orphanage.

Livio: I think he’d like that. They were my first real family.

Panel 6: Vash is hit with a sudden realization, Livio has no one right now. In a misty background, he remembers when Razlo cried out after Wolfwood did in Master Chapel.

Vash (internal): Wolfwood, you left Livio in my care... so we wouldn’t be alone.

Razlo (background): ...I’m all alone again!

PAGE 6

Panel 1: Close-up of Vash with the sincerest smile.

Vash: I hope you know you’re not alone. You have me now.

Panel 2: Livio’s face contorts sorrowfully.

Livio/Razlo (internal): I don’t deserve this.

Livio: Mr. Vash I --

Vash: Wait, before you say anything...

Panel 3: Zoom out so we can see both of them and the table. Vash extends his leg as he digs deep into his pants pocket. Livio leans on the table watching him.

Vash: I know that we don’t know each other well yet, but he trusted you with me and I trusted him, wholly and completely, so…

Panel 4: Extreme close-up, Vash pulls out 2 black leather wristbands with silver latches.

PAGE 7

Panel 1: Vash offers Livio a wristband while holding one for himself in the same hand.

Vash: Here. One for you, one for me. I used a strap from his cross to make it, so part of him will always be with us.

Panel 2: Livio puts the wristband on his left hand.

Livio: Thank you.

Panel 3: Extreme close-up of Livio’s non-tattooed eye, tears pricking his lashes.

Livio: I hope one day I can repay yer kindness.

Panel 4: They fist bump wristbands in view.

Vash: Welcome to the family, Livio.

PAGE 8

Panel 1: A large portrait of Wolfwood with his sunglasses and back turned, fills the background, smiling as he holds his cigarette in his hand.

Livio: Hey, Mr. Vash?

Vash: Mm?

Livio: Would you mind tellin’ me a lil more about him… Wolfwood? Ya see, we were close at the orphanage as kids, but I don’t know who he became. I’ll understand if you don’t want to, you owe me absolutely nothin’.

Panel 2: A close-up of Vash’s coffee, Wolfwood’s staple morning drink, Vash’s reflection smiles back, tears in his eyes.

Vash: I’d love to.

PAGE 9

Panel 1: Bonus! Sometime later.  Drawn in chibi style.

Livio: Can I hug ya?

Vash: Sure, buddy!

Panel 2: They hug, Vash smiles, and Livio whimpers as he lets out the waterworks. He’s thankful for Vash’s kindness.

Panel 3: This sets Vash off, who also sobs. They cry in each other’s arms.

#Trigun #Trigun Maximum #TriMax #spoilers #Trigun Spoilers #Vashwood #Vash #Vash the Stampede #Livio #Livio the Double Fang #Nicholas D Wolfwood #Wolfwood #my art #tw character death mention #food #TrigunStampede #NO BETA WE DIE LIKE GUNG-HO-GUNS #sorry for any choppy dialogue #shoved a lot in here but wanted to touch on Trigun's running themes like loneliness and family #and Vash being heart wrenchingly kind #vash privately mourning wolfwood was a good move on nightow's part but my guy I needed to see some tears to fill the hole in my heart #take that trust line as you will to fit your narrative :3 #i love these 3 idiots (affectionate) a lot and I can't fit all I want to say in the tags #this spawned from an art mistake I noticed in the manga #livio's wristbands changed from 2 to 3 at some point #it looked suspiciously like a strap from Wolfwood's cross and the rest is history #and i needed more bonding time between vash and livio #and for them to know they aren't alone in this fight #i 100% think livio would struggle mourning ww and becoming worthy to do so #I needed this so maybe someone needs it too