#« maul » always remember › musing.

[mutatiio]

@rottingkiss

@mayxthexforce

@talessculpted

i love it when characters are codependent. i love it when losing someone feels like losing a limb. i love it when two people "complete" each other so wholly and terribly that one can barely function without the other. i love it when the fear of losing the only person who understands them is so all-consuming they'll destroy anything to stay together, including themselves.

[porcelainseashore]

Poison Tree

Commissioned art by @medeaft

As Wynter lies dying in a stranger’s arms, she thinks back to her childhood home and the life she once led with the man who knew her inside-out, Lucien.

Content Warnings: Uncle/niece incest, blood, violence, murder, implied sexual content, pre-canon, coming of age, Catholic guilt, vampire turning, Giovannis being Giovannis.

And there she stood, wide-eyed and doe-like, transfixed at the sight of a stranger before her. Clothes tumbled out of laundry baskets, strewn across the floor, a river of dirtied cotton and cheap knock-offs from the dollar store. A distant rumble came from the side as a lone washer left unattended churned.

It wasn’t like Wynter to be caught unaware, freezing up, indecisive or unable to move, like a gazelle that had stalled a second too late. This stranger was different, more of an apparition behind her darkly veiled face, a shapeless expression shifting like sand, never holding one position for too long. Bony fingers swathed with Venetian lace creeping up her arms like second skin. Her scent layered with oriental spice and incense—the type you burned for the dead.

She should have ran. Trusted in her instincts and ran. Yet it felt as if she had been waiting for this moment her entire life. Bathed in the somber aura of this foreign woman. Teeth gleaming and eyes shining. It was worse than getting mauled by a lion. You would think one would know pain after twenty-three years of living with it. But the adrenaline didn’t kick in.

“Welcome to The Family,” she heard a voice say. “Welcome home.”

Overhead, an ugly metallic duct groaned and burst, shooting jets of steam into the room. The very same rushes, hisses, and squeaks of the pipelines rattling around the house that Wynter grew up in the Deep South. It was an old thing, stately, Gothic and foreboding, with spiralling stairways and trick doors that led to nowhere. As a child, she watched the shadows that stalked her during the night intently, musing if they would whisk her off someplace far away. She wondered why they lived there—in a house that didn’t feel like a house. Her parents never knew who they truly were. Their lineage could be traced back to the merchants that occupied the trade routes along the Silk Road. But that was all they could boast about.

“We are hardworking people,” her father proclaimed. As if to be hardworking was a defining quality of character. Perhaps the house wasn’t a coincidence. It was only natural they were drawn subconsciously to the call of their blood, like her. Certain inclinations never really went away.

Wynter was only a day old, balloon-headed and wailing, when her uncle—her father’s brother—Lucien, cradled her tiny body in his arms. She beat her clenched fists against his chest, which were really more like pathetic bumps, and he laughed and remarked, “What a strong little girl you are.”

She smelled his freshly shampooed hair, just as well as she could drink in the scent of his blood, noisily gushing through his veins, like raging water in a storm drain. Everything was so loud and jarring. His flowy, dark blonde locks whipped around in the wind, tickling her nose as he bent down to kiss her cheek. She could hear his thundering heart while she stirred in her sleep. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.

Everyone said she wouldn’t be able to remember that. But who were they to determine something so personal to her? The sensory overload was real. What she experienced now was real. She knew she wasn’t normal when the first thing she noticed in a person was their pulsating jugular.

Her childhood was filled with frilly dresses, lollipops, and sun-baked knees as she ran about in a dizzying fit before sprawling out on the front lawn in the muggy heat. Lucien was always close by, omnipresent, keeping an ever-watchful eye on his niece. She had assumed that his overprotectiveness was due to the nature of his work. They said that he was a Lieutenant at the Criminal Investigation Division in a neighboring city. It sounded important to her as a kid. What sounded less important was when her parents teased him about his eternal bachelor status.

“There’s still hope.” Wynter’s father clapped him on the back. Lucien’s tresses were now tarnished brown and graying, but his piercing blue eyes remained vivid and alert. They crinkled as he gave a self-deprecating smile. “I believe God has saved one for me.”

At Sunday Mass, her father placed his hand on her head sternly, a warning to be quiet and pray. An opalescent rosary dangled between her thumb and index finger. She pressed her palms together, letting the beads indent her skin, but her eyes wandered over to his younger brother across the pews. From afar, he mouthed the word, “Kneel,” and she obeyed him on the cold, hard marble before the Lord.

Adolescence brought out the best and worst of Wynter, depending on who you asked. Instead of heated arguments and slamming doors, there were awkward silences and the fear of being touched. She arched her back uncomfortably at the lightest brush of her shoulder. It prickled her skin, sent hot flashes through her spine, and she had to suppress the urge to snarl.

“What kind of child shies away from their mother’s touch?” Her parents couldn’t understand her. But they waved it off as a phase. Pain riddled her body in those days. Her chest swelled, there was tenderness in her thighs, and an aching throb that rippled like a current. Boys turned to look when she walked past. She bled and sweated a distinct odor of vile desire—it was getting more and more difficult to pretend to fit in.

The energy had to flow somewhere. Confused and overwhelmed, she locked it up in her wrists, her limbs, her face, until the seizures came. She hid out in the school restrooms, bashing her body against the toilet doors when nobody was around, willing the spirit to return to its flesh. All she could think about was her father’s belt around a boy’s neck, the leather creaking as it tightened. A pair of pale hands. Her pair of hands. And it pleased her. 

Lucien saw as Wynter withdrew into herself, spotted the signs where no one figured where to look. The hollows of her haunted eyes, her cheeks gaunt. She had a Beast even before she became one of them. In return, he fed and nurtured it. Satisfied her innate cravings by taking her on his hunting trips, where they set traps and shot fowl and game, each trophy more impressive than the next. He leaned his weight into her back, hand cupped over hers, her finger on the rifle’s trigger as she peered through the scope. Breathing in, his nose involuntarily nuzzled the crook of her neck. “Eyes on the prize, doll,” he rasped. Lips marking skin. She didn’t need to be told twice.

Her symptoms subsided as she learned to shoot a man dead. Arms outstretched, two hands gripping Lucien’s revolver high and tight, bracing for the recoil. Other times, she sat cross-legged, watching him strip and clean his gun with a blackened rag before oiling its parts. She enjoyed the methodical approach he took with it and imagined herself as his weapon, how his hands would smooth over her surfaces, ease the pain she had felt all these years. Only his touch was bearable.

As Wynter filled out, she took to hitching rides in cars with older men. It was performative—the rolled-down windows, the smokey, sweat-stained seats, her lips strawberry-sucked and forearms pressed against the frame, exchanging bold grins as their gaze lingered along the contours of her body. Assessing, calculating, the risk versus reward. On the weekends after church, she taxidermied fallen prey with her uncle, skinning and tanning, disassembling and putting them back together again. They worked quietly, and her skin bristled with life every time he came into contact, guiding her. But it was as close as they could ever be.

That terrible, sweltering summer, just crossing into alligator season, she got into the wrong car. And everything spiralled from there. Her would-be killer ended up as her victim; he didn’t expect her to fight back. Neither did he expect Lucien to lurk behind, in Wynter’s shadow, just as he had done since the day she was born. They strung the man up to a tree, his kneecaps blown off as he struggled and pleaded for his life. She noticed piss trailing down his pants as she pulled down hard on his legs. He gurgled. And it pleased her.

Lucien didn’t bat an eyelid when in a fury, Wynter hacked the man to pieces long after he was dead. He waited patiently until she had expended the last of her energy before covering up the mess into a ground-dug hole. Then, he asked if she wanted to go home.

She rubbed her eyes furiously until they were red and sore, a plum-bruised patch over the right. She rubbed them some more, wincing, and choking back mimicked sobs, but they remained dry.

“What is it, doll?” he urged. “Tell me, what is it you want?”

There was a sharp ache in her core, a guttural, strained sound she emitted, as if she had lost all concept of speech. She tugged at his arm, bloodied prints branding the rolled-up sleeve of his white collared shirt. His navy blue blazer had been tossed carelessly to the side. For a moment, he pursed his lips and hesitated, but he knew he was only delaying the inevitable. How could one escape generations of bad blood—was what they felt bad?—and the ghosts of their past? It had been destined before they existed, and no matter how much they tried to prevent turning into a replica of those that came before them, they were playing a losing game as their ancestors’ pawns.

When he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, drawing her in, she sighed into his chest, aware of the bob of his Adam’s Apple as he swallowed thickly in response. “I know, I know,” he whispered, threading his fingers through the waves of her ash black hair.

“Do you?”

Their eyes met. Almond-shaped. Two sides of the same coin. A flicker of recognition. 

He was sick. She was sick. They had poisoned their own well and drank from it freely. How could he ever say no to her? If they were damned, then so be it.

He knelt beside her, just as he knelt by his bedside every night, hands clasped fervently in prayer, begging the Lord to show him the way. A wooden cross hanging precariously by a nail above the headboard, threatening to smite him down. He placed his cheek against her womb, his sublime angel of death. Then he peeled off her denim shorts and she suckled the warm blood from his lips like a primordial offering.

Wrists pinned and panting, Wynter took in the dazzling blue sky. If there was a God, why would he make Lucien in her likeness? She arched her back, he shivered, and she bit back a moan.

At the end, he removed a bejeweled ring from his finger and slipped it onto hers. “You will always be a Della Passaglia.” She dreamed of midnight drives in the cool air, her head in Lucien’s lap, jazz blues on the radio as he whistled along to the tunes. She dreamed of keeping her maiden name, his teeth marks on her wedding garter, and all the possibilities that they couldn’t be. And then, she grabbed her clothes and ran.

In the present, Wynter found herself staring face up at the woman who called herself Violetta. Mahogany set eyes boring right through her. Her cruel mouth sticky and sanguine. She knew that the world was unkind to little girls and she had never been more than one. When Violetta Embraced her, she died alone screaming in agony, crying out for Lucien. But he wasn’t there.

Dividers by @diableriedoll

[halfling-myth-lady]

Any Juleka content for your rewrite?

Of course!!!!

Actually, I’d consider her one of the most interesting characters in the rewrite.

I won’t give any summary, but I will give you a Drabble that more or less explains what her motivations are and will probably tell you what her place in the au is lol

Also pls ask abt this au I need reason to write about this au more.i swear it’s good.i think.

Anyways,let’s get on with this!!

—

Chapter one:A girl called Juleka.

Warning:the story is told in achronological order.technically at the time THIS ficlet would be released it would be around early season 3, though for the sake of the story we will be starting here.

The tiny panjas bracelet sat in Juleka’s hand, black chains wrapping around her fingers and the tiny jewel in the middle staring back at her. She’d gotten it at a yard sale two days ago.

She carefully put it on, intently staring at the empty space in front of her for a few seconds before Roaar materialized in front of her.

As soon as she was noticed, Roaar chuckled.

“Why, look at that! have you made up your mind already?its only been a few hours since my offer, Cub” the creature mused.

“It wasn't hard. All i needed to do was…think”

And think she did.

She thought of Luka. One of the most compassionate and kind people she ever knew, turned into a villain who took away the voices of those he deemed unworthy of them.

She thought of her mother. The most headstrong and amazing woman she could think of, turned into a villain who imprisoned her own children in her ship with chains of steel.

She thought of her father. A man who always found a way to sneak out of her public eye and back to his family whenever he could, turned into a villain who attempted to murder a fellow music phenomenon(no matter how much of an asshole he might be).

She thought about everyone… Rose, Nathaniel, Chloe, Bustier, Max, Kim, alix, Sabrina, Ivan…

… And herself.

She thought about being Reflecta.

About having her autonomy stripped from her by that bastard in a butterfly costume.

About how the moment she disobeyed he took control of her body and forced her to get those stupid pieces of jewelry.

about getting out of that control, and remembering every single thing afterwards.

“You said that as long as i have you with me, he can’t take any kind of control over me. No Akumayizations or anything.”

“Yep!he can’t even touch you”

“And you can give me powers equal to the other heroes…”

“Of course,Cub!”She said, eyes glowing”all you gotta do to access them is say “Roaar, Stripes on!” and you’ll be able to have your abilities with no drawbacks or anything”

Roaar grinned, eyes staring holes into the girl in front of her and razor sharp teeth probably capable of maul through even a turtle’s shell coming into sight.

“What do you say,Couffaine?”

… Juleka cackled.

“I say…we have a butterfly to kill. Roaar,stripes on!”

[acr3ss-the-cosmos]

👫 gimme chennie and jiaojiao ty renni

muse dynamic headcanons. @draconicfool

Chenhua & Eros

after chenhua first made that little pink dragon plush for eros, she's decided to always gift him a different hand-knit plush for his birthday every year, every one of them based around his favorite animals (which means yes, he will get a shark friend from her askshfsd).

with the new trade agreement between the luofu and belobog, chenhua started to make secret plans to travel to jarilo-vi to surprise eros. she always gets updates from him whenever he visits her about the progress belobog has been making in the wake of the eternal freeze, but having a real opportunity to visit it herself -- the planet where eros was hatched and grew up on -- is something that has become very important to her. she'll show up out of the blue on the clinic's doorstep one day wearing the warmest layers she could find and with the brightest smile on her face, because she finally gets to see the home that eros holds so dearly.

Jiaoqiu & Eros

it's not something he does every time they're together, but jiaoqiu will sometimes ask eros about what they're wearing on a given day, how their hair is being worn etc, so he can continue to visualize their appearance in his mind. the time between when they first met in those two weeks before the wardance and jiaoqiu getting taken hostage and mauled by hoolay was not very long, and though jiaoqiu has an excellent memory in remembering the faces of people he's met, his blindness now prevents him from seeing those faces, so he wants to make sure he never forgets what those important to him look like, and this is especially true for eros -- his beloved partner.

jiaoqiu is unaware of this when it happens, but there are occasions where he curls himself around eros in his sleep and holds them close. deep in his subconscious mind, it's an assurance that eros is still there – someone he is able to feel with his touch and whose familiar scent he can breath in.

[mutatiio]

@mayxthexforce

Why is it always "I love you," and never "I want to sink my teeth into your soul, crawl inside your skin, and bury myself in your dark warmth with insatiable hunger, binding our blood in a rhythm so deep with such ferocity that the earth sighs, and not even the cold grasp of death could pull us apart?"

[velvetwarfare]

omg recent events has me excited to finally deep dive into the topic of ✨ obsession ✨ concerning betty

So!! Here’s a fucking lore dump for you lovely freaks.

Vampiric obsession is one of my favorite traits to portray because it’s simultaneously a blessing and a curse to have a vampire select you as their muse.

- Vampiric obsession can manifest on just about anything. A person, an object, multiple people, etc. Once they latch onto it, it’s essentially going ‘my precious’ . If someone fucks w said object or people, they are more than likely going to die in a very tragic manner.

- Vampires are TERRITORIAL, VICIOUS, AND ADDICTS. What’s theirs is theirs. They will rate whatever they want whenever they please and they will fight bloody tooth and nail for their ‘property’. Nosferatu in particular are all of these — just amplified.

That’s what Betty is. A nosferatu strand. Nosferatu are uncommon and defective for the most part — as most vampires are more tame and human in nature, as opposed to the nosferatu who resemble animals and depend on their feral nature.

So. Think of a mama bear protecting her cubs. A dragon hoarding her gold. Now think of said bear mauling several people limb from limb. A dragon scorching whoever dares to touch her gold. That’s how Betty’s obsession functions.

- “Love turns into hungry obsession, while friendship becomes bitter jealousy. In place of emotion, vampires pursue physical symbols of what they crave, so that a vampire seeking love might fixate on a young beauty. Ones fascinated with power and control may seek to create a vast host of thralls. Others surround themselves with art, books, or sinister items such as torture devices or trophies from creatures they have killed.”

- Having her as an obsessed ally is a blessing because she’s going to be willing to do just about ANYTHING for approval and love. The chances of her committing treason is very low. She will kill for you — friend or foe, it doesn’t matter. She’s willing to drop someone at a single moment’s notice if her muse deems it necessary. You now have your own person attack dog.

Should the muse own her soul, they by proxy also own the beast. The beast will not attack the muse and acts as an even worse body guard. Congrats.

- But this also comes with the consequences.

It’s obsession. She’ll get envious very easily of other people. Might start saying ‘you’re mine’ and get extremely defensive over it. Very clingy, very attached, overwhelming.

It’s common for her to want to mark her muse up — masked as sexual appetite, she just wants to brand them as her own and feel the satisfaction of securing that property. Muses are both seen as property and a person.

- She’ll remember you in every life. Obsessions need to be personally broken — she has to choose to let the muse go. Killing her will not do it in.

Think of Strahd from curse of strahd. His obsession with Tatyana literally extended to all of her reincarnations and he attempted to woo each one — and murder anyone around her that tried to keep her from him. That’s the best source you’ll get for vampiric obsession and how Betty’s mindset works. The only way he broke that obsession was by either making that mental decision to let her go or get killed permanently.

But hey! If you’re a lover of hers and you like that sick shit, you got someone who’s going to spend eternity with you and will always stay loyal!

[vacantgodling]

💧 rain for the weather asks babey fuck me up

💧Rain - What's the most emotional scene you've ever written?

OHOOOOO we have so many contenders because i love writing sad shit—i got so many you could probably ask me this question several times and get a different answer LMAO. but honest to god i think sword of a great hero is my most painful excerpt because it’s just… the calm before the storm. lath and ensio both know they’re gonna die. and just UGHHHH.

since it seems that in haven’t posted this excerpt on this version of my blog have it in its entirety here and cry :)

##

“This will be our final stand.” Lath touched a hand to his chest. He could feel the sluggish bleeding from under the gash in his armor that lead to the gaping wound in his upper abdomen, just underneath his ribcage. There was no one to heal him now — hadn’t had anything like that since they started this death march — at this point his nerves were beyond the point of registering pain. The others who’d joined him were long dead now: either picked off or mauled, died with a fight gnashing in their teeth, or a whimper absolving from their throat. Only two of them from the initial 33 warriors remained, and somehow Lath always knew it would come to this.

Ensio stood astride him, his regal bow broken and long forgotten. Lath had given him his second sword to wield in its stead, and the grip was slightly off, and the blade shorter than he remembered Ensio liked, but it would do. Neither of them fought with the expectation to live. In the clearing where they stood, a large, curled structure rose, towering to almost the heavens above them and was teeming with magic so strong that Lath could practically smell it. The Labyrinth. The voice of Their Lady MUINENS boomed from the heavens. As your final stand, you will drive them to their dungeon.

“Aye.” Ensio’s usual baritone was a rough wheeze. If they’d had time to rest, to heal, Lath would’ve guessed it was a punctured lung. He’d taken a claw to the sternum hard in a battle days before, and had been wheezing since. Lath could not offer him any comforting hand… Ensio wouldn’t have wanted it either. But the two men stood beside one another, waiting for their cue

“What do you suppose Cerullius is like?” Ensio garnered to ask. Though he’d assured Lath it was fine that the grip was off — better him, the regular sword wielder, have the better blade after all — he was still fidgeting with his grip, whirling it between his fingers, like the drills they ran together as boys. “Do you think it’d be as warm and comforting as a fine pair of tits?”

“Even on your deathbed, you’re a lech.” Lath’s golden eyes scanned the horizon. It seemed fitting that they would die on the brink of a beautiful morning. That the land here was so wholly unfamiliar but was beautiful somehow. There were no trees or swamps or lakes around— only a large expanse of grassland and short, wiley flowers that had the audacity to bloom. If Lath were a more poetic man, he would pity them. Soon they would be covered with blood, and guts, and entrails, and stinking corpses, of beasts who refused to be herded, and the bodies of two Terraneans who dared to pretend they were shepherds.

“It’s not as though either of us would ever know.” Ensio mused, but not unkindly. “Your horrible habit of unblinking deterred so many.”

“Yet your horrible beard drove off more.” Lath quipped back and the rumble of a chuckle that left Ensio, even as he continued to bleed, made a quirk of a smirk tug at Lath’s lips.

“I would offer to let you experience it on my own chest, as a parting gift,” Ensio started. “But I’m afraid this armor is too hard to remove one handed.” Lath’s eyes flickered back from the horizon to his friend. His left arm still hung only barely in its socket enough to be a meager semblance of functional. If they had anything to cauterize it, Lath would’ve offered to cut it off for him— spare him the dead weight. But they didn’t. And Lath didn’t want to watch his friend bleed out. At least in the frenzy of battle, Ensio’s final cry would hopefully be the only thing he’d witness of it. He had stared death in the face since the day he was born, yet the thought of it cradling its welcoming hands around his closest friend wasn’t something Lath could reconcile with himself.

“Do you regret following me?” Lath asked suddenly. A wind had begun to pick up from the west and both men turned to face it. Though they could not yet hear it, Lath knew Ensio’s sharp, hawk brown eyes would’ve been able to pick out the first details of the beasts and monsters headed this way. He would see their horns, feathers, too wide jaws, inhuman structures and limbs. He would see them fleeing towards what would become their new sanctuary— or prison. The Labyrinth gleamed like a gem in the climbing morning light, with its two guards to usher in the onslaught. The creatures’s flight was brought on by their own gods, they both knew. And though neither men could see them, they’d had more proof than they had in their entire lives that those beings they worshipped were tangible. That they were there.

“The only thing that I regret is not having a roll in the sack just once before I died.”

“Be serious.”

Ensio turned to Lath. And as always, his eyes were dark with a wisdom Lath never claimed to understand, and never would, not as long as the two of them were alive. They turned soft with something like fondness. “I would rather die a hero by your side than waste away in Ubwyn, surrounded by every waking reminder of those I’ve failed.”

“You haven’t failed.” Lath couldn’t help but growl. Yet, Ensio went on calmly, unperturbed by his outburst.

“My mother died. My brothers, my sisters. We couldn’t bury them, we could only leave them behind. It’s not the little king’s fault, nor Zenith’s, nor yours. I just know my father will be heartbroken that he will only see me in Cerullius, not his love, nor the starlight’s that lit his life. If I die by you, Lath, maybe our journey to Cerullius won’t be so horrible. Maybe I can use this as penance for not guiding the rest of my family home.” He let out a shuddering breath—a wheeze. “It’s not a bad death, to die by my truest, dearest friend.” Lath could only hum. And as the shrieking and wailing of the beasts drew near, Lath let his hand over his wounded chest go limp, and he shuffled to Ensio, pulling the taller man into a tight, crushing hug. His armor plates cut Lath’s cheek, and the hug was far too tight for either of their aching ribs but it was important and needed and real. Ensio pulled back first.

“Our people will remember you, Lath. As the hero you were always meant to be. Even if you never received your Oracle’s Blessing, your valor is worth far more than that.”

“What was your Oracle’s Blessing En?” Lath couldn’t help but ask. It wasn’t a secret commonly shared but he suddenly felt that he needed to know. Ensio’s tired lips quirked into a bemused smile.

“To play the sword of a great hero.”

[crimsonbathed]

" we're surrounded by those who would like to see us dead. " - Oak

"Is that such a bad thing?" Carrion mused, a scoff escaping from strawberry lips. Being cornered by those who wished nothing less than death upon her was nothing new, it was comforting in a sense. "Do you not like to feel powerful? For if someone wishes you dead, then they see you as a threat. Those foolish Lost Boys want the pirates dead and vice versa, all because they think it is a game. Truly, they aren't far from the truth, are they?"

A smirk graced her features as she turned her attention towards the basket within her arms which housed her latest collection of webbing. The spiders had a habit of cooperating with her, so long as she had something to offer them in return. Should they refuse, dare to strike at her even, well . . . she had ways to ensure they remembered just who was in charge.

"Power shifts, it is like the water. Waves come and go, an ever changing tide of charge, and the receding shoreline fights to hold its ground- but in the end, the strongest waves will always win, pushing the land even further back. Are we not the waves?" Her head lulled to the side, allowing inky black waves to fall in front of her shoulder. There was little on the island that used to hold a candle to the small folk, what says that they could not reclaim that oh so powerful position they once held? "It is no different than life in the Other Place. So many wish us dead, and we could slaughter them all like little lambs. What stops us? Dear Oak? What prevents you from making them fear you even more? Do you not miss the days where you could roam freely, without fear of being mauled by something around every corner, haunting you?"

She paused for a moment, searching the man before her for any tell as to what was wandering through his mind. He could be a most powerful ally, should she ever need one, there was only so much Peter could do while the Darling girl ran about. "Would it be such a bad thing, if we were to fight and claw our way back to the top? If so many want us dead, then I see us as being back on the right track."

[paladinwife]

⭕🔮:)

@a-mei-lius

DUM DUM???

⭕: Dum Dum

Muse raises her eyebrows, a look of disgust in her eyes.

“The one from Maelstrom?”

She clears her throat.

“I can’t say I think about him much at all, especially given that he’s dead.”

She leans her head into her hand.

“If you’re looking for remorse, I can’t say I feel any. I had an… agreement to fulfill. Besides, neither of us are particularly fond of Maelstrom in the first place.”

She glances upward.

“I will say, negotiating with Maelstrom is a unique experience. Like trying to talk biz with a bear. Ultimately, no matter how good I am at negotiating, I can’t talk a bear out of mauling me. Still, bears usually aren’t also armed.”

🎤: Kerry Eurodyne

“Ah. Him.”

She sighs, a smile curling up at the corners of her lips.

“I’m still at a loss as to how the others keep up with him. He’s certainly… something.”

She shakes her head.

“Still, I’ve certainly seen worse, even among washed-up rockerboys.”

She leans her head into her hand.

“Though, the other day he, for some reason, brought up the subject of me singing. Still haven’t a clue where he got that idea.”

🔮: Misty Olszewski

“I remember her. Jackie Welles’s girlfriend, right?”

She has a thoughtful look on her face.

“I can’t say I personally spoke with her very much, but she always seemed reasonable enough. Though…”

Her glance turns up and to the side.

“She did offer to read my tarot cards, and immediately drew the tower card. I’m still unsure if I’m unlucky or if I had offended her somehow.”

[mayxthexforce]

🎶 feemor and maul

send me 🎶 and i'll arrange a playlist of 3-5 songs for our muses' relationship!

1. Remember Me by Anadel.

You cringe at the lightning You walk on the water afraid Cause faith to move mountains Is like a shadow, falling away And memories of darkness Obstruct your view in the light And a foothold eludes you As your lungs flood with the tide

So remember me, write my name on a stone But don’t let me hold, you back from it all

2. The Journey by Conchita.

I don't know if I did the right thing by bringing you to this crazy world

I want to believe I did the right thing and will know how to protect you [...]

I don't know if I did the right thing by bringing you to this crazy world I already want to kill the first person who dares make you cry I don't know if I did the right thing, but when I look into your eyes The world seems bigger and I feel like I can fly I don't know if I should tell you that it won't always be easy There's so many idiots that turn the world upside down

But there are roads that stretch out slowly Colors that you'll never be able to forget There are eternal kisses, that truly never end And laughs that you'll never be able to compare Thousands of animals of all shapes and forms Friends who will always have your back A sun and a moon that never forget That this whole world has to keep on spinning

And in the middle of it all, I know there will come a day When I'll have to let go of your hand And then, from the sidelines I'll try to protect you

And I hope that, in the end, it'll be worth it This journey I'm gifting you This journey I'm gifting you This journey...

3. Welly Boots by The Amazing Devil.

Cause when it's cold

I'll wrap my scarf around you

And when it's hard

I'll place your head into my hands

And when you scream that it's not fair

It's like I've gone off to the coast

Left you behind, just standing there

Pretending not to see your ghost

If only you could hear my voice

But you are screaming far too loud to hear me swear:

Just because I left, doesn't mean that I'm not still there

[txeshdowofdathomir]

@mvchinery

insp.

[delphoxqueen]

Cleo de Nile’s Diary- Wave 1 (2009)

This Diary Belongs to:

Cleo de Nile

For royal eyes only!

Name: Cleo de Nile

School: Monster High

Unlock More Online: MHCDMUMMY

It is important for those of us with royal blood to leave a record of our musings for the common folk who will never know the splendor of our lives and for the historian whose life is dedicated to the proclamation of our greatness… or so says my father. But what it comes down to is this

You want to be me

You can’t be me

You’ll never be me

so get over it.

Seventh Month, 3rd Day

Nothing to do today but being bored is for commoners. So I shall choose to rise above this state by declaring that today is a day for doing nothing… yeah like that worked.

Seventh Month 10th Day

Father received a new shipment of things from our other home in Egypt today. At first I thought somebody dug up another one of father’s old friends but it turned out to be a box for me! Inside were my favorite gold bangles, it’s so hard to properly walk without them, and an absolutely adorable baby cobra. She’s just the cutest little thing! I’m going to call her Hissette.

Seventh Month 15th Day

Ahh it rained today! How I do love the rain. I know it is unseemly for one of royal birth, but when father wasn’t watching I snuck out and ran around in it. We never got much rain back home so I’m still learning to enjoy it. It’s like a royal bath that you can dance in. The only downside is that it does take a bit to dry out my wraps when I come inside and I have to make sure father doesn’t see me or he’ll give me “The Lecture” on royal behavior and our duty to “main-tain a certain decorum because those of common lineage must always see us as above their lowly station and not indulging in the base amusements that they them-selves partake in” You’d think that after 5,000 years he’d realize I’ve got the lecture memorized and that nothing I do is ever common.

Seventh Month 18th Day

Spent the day picking out this year’s fearleading uniforms- they shall enhance my already regal bearing while making the others look less ordinary. I am also putting together the routines for the year. The grand finale, of course, will be a pyramid.

Eighth Month 19th Day

I had the misfortune of running into Clawdeen Wolf Jackal today at The Maul. What a thoroughly disrespectful monster she is. First she accused me of wearing the same outfit twice and then when I ordered her to apologize or there would be consequences she GROWLED AT ME! ME! CROWN PRINCESS OF A FIVE THOUSAND YEAR OLD DYNASTY! She should count herself lucky this didn’t happen in the old country or she would be spending the rest of her life cleaning monuments to my glory with a toothbrush. She made me so angry I forgot what I was there to get until I got home and then I remembered… a new night light.

Eighth Month 20th Day

I was really tired today so I didn’t really want to do anything at all. I guess it’s because I didn’t get much sleep last night. My night light was broken and I really, really don’t like the dark. I know, I know “some monster you are” being afraid of the dark. I mean that’s where we’re supposed to be at our best, right? Well not me. I get all panicky and hold my breath like I’ve been under water too long. I’m sure I’d be made fun of if anyone knew but I dare any monster to be sealed up in the dark for a thousand years without even so much as candle and see how they like it. Anyway, it’s not like I have to justify anything to anybody. I’m royalty and that means I get to be the way I am without explanation!

Eighth Month 23rd Day

Deuce took me to dinner tonight which was sweet but expected of course. He was 5 minutes late which then made us 10 min-utes late because the 5 minutes I had planned on making him wait had to start after he arrived not before. Royalty will not be rushed or appear to be eagerly awaiting some one or some thing. Although I was perhaps a little worried that he might have forgotten we were supposed to go out, I made him spend the first thirty minutes apologizing before I let him off the hook. Of course I’m never really sure what’s going on behind those shades. I wish I could take them off so I could see his eyes when we talk but that’s never going to happen, it makes me just a little bit sad. It’s also sad that I had to send my dinner back five times before the help got it right. Hon-estly, I was very specific about what I asked for and it’s their problem if they can’t get it right. I could tell that Deuce was embarrassed by the attitude of the help as well. He could barely speak to me when we left the restaurant he was so upset with the service.

Ninth Month 1st Day

Ghoulia Yelps came over today. She is like my lady-in-waiting, confidant and best friend all rolled into one. I can tell her anything and I know that she will not repeat it, not that most people would be able to understand if she did, since zombie is a dead language. Ghoulia is quite brilliant though and her mind is quick which makes up for everything else about her being so slow. We planned our classes so that we could have most of them together although it wouldn’t completely work because Ghoulia has some advanced classes that I don’t. Honestly, I don’t know where she gets all her brains.

Ninth Month 6th Day

So the new school year starts tomorrow and I must again subject myself to the notion that every monster should be treated the same. Ridiculous. Father says that education knows no social status and that I should demonstrate that I am capable of having “the common touch”. I suppose that’s fine as long as the common-ers don’t touch me. Especially if that commoner is Clawdeen Wolf.

About Me

Name: Cleo de Nile

Age: 5,842 (give or take a few years)

Monster Parent: The Mummy

Killer Style: I’m a true Egyptian princess complete with headdress, exotic jewelry, and oh yeah, the occasional stray bandage wrapping.

Freaky Flaw: The dark. Yes I’m a monster who’s afraid of the dark- get over it.

Pet: Hissette is my sweet Egyptian cobra. Her hiss is honestly much worse than her, er, somewhat poisonous bite.

Favorite Activity: Ruling the halls of Monster High and being captain of the fearleading squad.

Biggest Pet Peeve: When someone refuses to obey me.

Favorite School Subject: Geometry. Anything that involves tri-angles and pyramids is as easy as pie or would that be π?

Least Favorite School Subject: History. Been there, seen that, got autographs from all the major players.

Favorite Color: Gold

Favorite Food: Grapes, especially when someone is feeding them to me.

BFF’s: Deuce Gorgon Ghoulia Yelps

[theninjamouse]

Some very late night thoughts and musings about nightmares, scroll past if you don't like talk about horror and things

I slept most of the day and it's nearly 3:30 in the morning now and I keep thinking about this place I see in my dreams. My dreams are usually not nice, to say the least. Death is common, pain nearly always present, either in the form of torture or mauling or violence. Honestly, I think that's one reason why I push myself to exhaustion so much. If I'm exhausted, I rarely remember my dreams.

There is a specific Place that I've returned to a lot in my dreams over the last, oh I'd say 10 plus years. The way to it is different, sometimes. The first time was a mine shaft. Old, decayed, rotten. The path was narrow, the walls so close that all one had to do was reach out to touch the sides. I had to go down and the deeper down I went, the darker the mine became until the Dark itself was an Entity. And this Dark was not simply dangerous, or scary. I didn't know what it wanted, what it was, I simply knew that it was Evil in a way that is hard to put into words.

The second place is a tunnel. Massive, far bigger than any place I've seen while awake. Entire skyscrapers could fit inside and still not touch the walls or the ceiling. This tunnel too went down at an incline. Slow, but steady. Deeper and deeper and it led to a place with a pillar that glowed a sickly blue. And beneath this pillar was another hole and inside this hole was The Dark. I remember scrambling, breaking my nails on the harsh rock that I clung to as I was told to go further down until the Dark swallowed me.

I've visited both the tunnel and the mine shaft more than once. And each time, the dread I feel and the terror that grips me is more stark for the remembrance that comes with it. I've gotten to the point where the mere sight of these places is enough for my mind to yank itself out of sleep, though it leaves my body paralyzed and I have to thrash in bed to fully escape it.

But it's been a while. I'd forgotten. Then last night, I found a new way down. A natural hole in a place it shouldn't have been. Just a road somewhere. It looked like part of the concrete had caved in. The inside of the hole was rocky, jagged. Maybe a singular person could fit down there before the broken mess would hide them from sight as they squished and crawled further down.

I stepped into it, I felt a tickle of dread and backed away. I left. But then I realized my youngest brother had gone down into the hole. I ran back, saw the top of his head as he descended and I grabbed him, yanked him back up and away. And he looked at me and his eyes were gone. There was just The Dark oozing from where they should have been and he opened his mouth and I knew if I heard him speak there would not be words there but the scream of the thing that has tried to pull me down into the Dark for years.

I forced myself awake. I was frozen in my bed but I had escaped.

I don't want to fall back asleep.

[sweethurtss]

okay, hear me out: one more werewolf OC for the road because I found the icons for this fc and I miss using her

Andi Barnes. Women want her, fish fear her. She's a former rodeo queen and loves barrel racing, and the occasional bull riding. She keeps her horse down on Aurelius' ranch, so she's always down there even though she has her own apartment in town.

It's not rare for the girl with a lopsided smile and helping hand to steal a heart or two. And Andi, as Aurelius would say, is a big fan of the ladies (and fellas).

Who is going to stop me from saying that she's not also a part of my firefighting team of muses?? I think she'd enjoy the hard work, challenges, and being able to help people. There's nothing she hates more than feeling helpless, and wants to make sure other people know there is always someone there who will help them when they need it most.

This mindset is exactly why she's quite close with Aurelius, even looking up to him as a mentor; and is also very patient with Berkley and all his mood swings. Andi is actually Berk's sparring partner, always down to play fight and wrestle with him when he just needs to blow some steam off.

tw for violence and death

She was ten years old when she was bitten and turned into a werewolf. She had gone out duck hunting with her uncle when they got separated, she had thought it was a simple accident and didn't think much about it since she was quite familiar with the area and knew how to get back to the truck in case she couldn't find her uncle.

Unfortunately, she did find him. His body as cold and unmoving as ice. Distracted by the gore, she never even saw the large wolf until it had already descended upon her. With her foot jammed against the beast's throat, she managed to buy herself enough time to grab the bear mace from her pocket and spray the wolf's face until it doubled over in pain.

Running back to the truck, parked along the road, Andi managed to wave down a truck and begged the driver to take her into town. Her mauled arm and bloody pantleg was enough to earn her quick passage to the clinic as she bawled and cried about a wolf attack.

end of tw

Aside from the grief and occasional reporter who appeared on her doorstep, life went back to relative normal for Andi. If by normal, that meant odd cravings for rare steak and chasing after small game (rabbits and birds) as the moon began to grow fuller and fuller. The first shift was frightening, and if she had to describe it, she would simply say that it was pain because that's all she can remember. She awoke two days later, covered in blood and a blanket fastened tightly around her.

So small and young, it had broken Aurelius' heart when he first came into the chicken coop her father had locked her in amid her first shifting — unsure how else to subdue his daughter without hurting her.

It had even been her father who came knocking on Aurelius' door, furious and confused in between the raging fear that he was going to lose his daughter so soon after losing his brother. The werewolf, taking in 'troubled teens', had been the Barnes' neighbor and the only man Andi's father trusted to keep her secret and help keep her safe.

[darlingpetao3]

Thank You For Ruining My Life: An Homage to Tom Cavanagh

“You’ve ruined all my future expectations of men.”

The costume-clad woman had the courage of steel to say this to the then 53-year-old actor, Tom Cavanagh of The Flash, in front of a ballroom filled with a couple hundred people. This brave utterance was spoken during the 2016 Fan Expo Vancouver convention during a Flash question and answer period with actors Tom Cavanagh and Candice Patton. In its third season, the show was undoubtedly still hitting its stride in popularity, and the room was packed to hear these two speak.

The brave woman whose turn it was at the microphone was referring to Tom’s role as Ed Stevens on the NBC 2000 hit, Ed. I had not known of this show previously, but having now heard such a proclamation intrigued me. “You’ve ruined all my future expectations of men.” That was a tempting notion, and as I continued to listen to this disarmingly charming and wittingly funny man steal the stage, Tom intrigued me even more. I’d watched him play three different versions of Harrison Wells on The Flash since the show’s premiere date, yet I hadn’t truly noticed him in a “life-ruining” way before.

Little did I know that Tom Cavanagh would not only eventually ruin my expectations for men as well, but he would change my life in other ways, too.

After the Q&A, I had this urge to buy a S.T.A.R. Labs T-shirt from one of the vendors at the convention. In my head, I thought I would purchase something so that I could have an excuse to talk to Mr. Cavanagh at his signing booth. Again, he intrigued me, and I wanted to experience more of his incredibly likeable personality. So, I dragged my friend with me to wait for what was maybe ten minutes in a queue. Shortly, I was paying the assistant for my autograph I would soon acquire. They wrote my name on a sticky note so that Tom would know how to sign a personalized message to me. And then, it was my turn.

His eyes sparkled when he turned his attention to me. I instantly had a feeling this was just the way he was naturally. Oh yeah, and I swear to God I’d never seen eyes that blue in my entire life. It genuinely stunned me.

“Hi!” he greeted me.

“Hi!” I responded, equally as thrilled. Tom admired the T-shirt I had brought and took note of my name on the piece of paper. I remember us joking together about the extremely lax security in and around S.T.A.R. Labs on the show, which prompted his message to me on the heather-grey cotton. He wrote my name, [followed by a heart!] and a very welcoming, ‘Come on by, just walk right in!’

I had official clearance from Harrison Wells himself.

I thanked him very much, leaving with my treasure folded over my arms. My friend and I walked towards the hall’s exit, and I couldn’t shake this feeling inside me. It felt strange—I couldn’t name it for the life of me. It felt like an odd fluttering with a simultaneous yet contradictory slightness of breath. My head was confused and would continue to be so for the rest of that weekend.

As I waited at my gate in the airport on that Sunday evening to head home, all I knew was that the moments at the con featuring Tom were the highlights of the weekend for me.

And that I was going to begin watching more of the other films and television shows he’d been in. What was the show the brave cosplaying woman had said ruined her expectations of men? Oh yeah, Ed.

Maybe I’ll start there…

***

Feliz Navidad, Feliz Navidad…

In my house, it’s never really Christmastime until Michael Bublé croons through the speakers of the wooden stereo system in the living room. It felt especially festive as it was now Christmas Eve—a month and some change since the con. It was late, possibly ten o’clock. I was lying on the floor in front of the Christmas tree with my trusty laptop, a word document open. I was writing three holiday-song short stories featuring the new muse in my life, Harrison Wells. I wanted to be able to post them the next day, so my fingers were taptaptapping away.

I had written a handful of things before 2017, most of which had been Marvel-related, under my second, ‘rebirth’ pen name online. I was a little fish among all the grand and fabulous writers on Archive of Our Own, and in many ways, I still feel like that little fish. I was only just learning and feeling out the psyche of the Wells characters. Each one is so different. In my rewatch of the previous seasons of The Flash, I’d taken diligent notes, and as I’d later learn with each following rewatch, I would know them all—what they think, how they talk and behave—like the back of my hand. It was fun to suss out these guys, and I found that I was growing to love the act of writing even more.

One month later, in January, I would post all the stories I’d written thus far on Tumblr. I’d just created an account and, who knows? Maybe I’d get a wider range of readers on here, too.

Might as well give it a shot, right?

***

Wild horses couldn’t keep me from attending Fan Expo Vancouver 2017, especially when the big news dropped. Not only would Tom Cavanagh be attending again, but so would Carlos Valdes, Danielle Panabaker, Candice Patton, and the convention-elusive star of the show himself, Grant Gustin.

Before the moderator for the Flash cast’s Q&A panel could utter the final thanks to the actors at the end of the session, I bounded from my seat and sped down to the photo op booth where the cast would be taking “Team Up” photos with fans. ‘Sped down’ has to be the most appropriate couple of words because I indeed felt like a true Speedster dressed head to toe as the small screen’s adaptation of Jesse Quick, the angsty and brilliant daughter to Harrison Wells turned superhero.

After waiting in a queue that felt like ages, I was next to stand with Team Flash. As I took a step forward, all of the actors’ and actresses’ eyes—the people I spend time with every Tuesday evening—were on me. I heard a familiar voice approve of my costume. It was Danielle.

“Tremendous.”

Grant even joked that he thought for a second Violett Beane, the actress who plays Jesse Quick, had shown up to surprise them. “I was like, what’s Violett doing here?” he said.

I stood in the back row, happily sandwiched between Tom and Carlos. I dared to let my hands rest on their backs, and I couldn’t contain my joy. Shortly after, when I received my near-instant physical photograph of the moment, I saw Tom had pointed at me. In my mind, it felt as if in his gesture, he meant, hey, look at this cool person. Haha. I couldn’t be further from it.

I would go on to further be uncool in public as I later found myself virtually shaking and almost hyperventilating in line for a one-on-one photo op with Tom. The guy dressed as Kid Flash behind me gave me a few encouragements of the “it’ll be okay” variety. As my turn finally arrived, the lovely man of the hour greeted me with a bright smile in recognition of my Reverse Flash T-shirt (I had done a quick change before this photo op because I had worn a Flash T-shirt for a photo with Grant).

“Great shirt!”

The internet comes up with many hilarious and fitting words, but none such so than the term “Cavanarms.” One of the said Cavanarms found its way around my shoulder in such a casual way. My hand rested on his back, and I have told anyone who will listen about how soft his sweater was. What was approximately a five-second interaction will stay with me forever. And to this day, I will always regret how I’m standing beside him in the picture—there’s a distinguishable gap between us. I could have been closer—should have been!—but I like to use the fact that I felt as if I’d combust into flames if I were any closer to the man.

Maybe I’d have another chance to combust later again that day because, believe it or not, this fan hadn’t had enough of seeing Mr. Cavanagh in person. And since he was appearing at the con for this day only, there was no way I was going to squander any opportunities. Besides, there was still one final thing left on my convention docket: the autograph. In my mind, going to get his autograph was an excuse to get to talk to him and simply be in his presence for longer than five seconds. Here, take my money. I’m a sucker, and I’m proud of it. I saved all year for this kind of thing, and Fan Expo has always been my ultimate nerdy Treat Yoself Day.

Plus, this year I came equipped with a question for Tom (something for which I may have prepared a little too far in advance).

“Which of your characters would win in a lawyering battle: Ed or Miles?”

Miles was Tom’s latest character from his newly released project Darrow & Darrow, a fellow lawyer as Ed Stevens (remember, the man who ruins women’s expectations of men?), whom he portrayed almost two decades prior. What I loved about Tom when I got to ask him this was that he was silent for a moment following the question. He was genuinely putting thought into my question. As he pondered, Tom continued to autograph the photo of us together taken mere hours ago.

“Ed. He would wipe the floor with that other guy. Like, Miles is great, but Ed has a rapier-sharp mind, you know?”

I wholeheartedly agreed with his answer and felt relieved inside for some reason. We thanked each other (as politely as two Canadians can) before I left him to pay attention to the next lucky soul in line. I made the mistake of casting my eyes downward at the signed photo.

Tom had signed two little hearts over the I’s in my name. He really needed to stop adding hearts to my things, or I was just going to melt to the floor. In fact, I started to make these strange noises as I tried not to completely maul everyone in front of me while exiting. My friend ushered me as fast as physically possible on our way out of the main hall. One man took one look at me and asked, “Are you okay?”

No.

“Yep!”

The second I made it out of the herd, I broke out into open space. First came the minor hyperventilating. Then came the squealing followed by laughter. Top it off with various fangirlish comments of, “He’s so beautiful!”, “His eyes are so blue!” and “I love him!” and I was probably quite the sight to see (but at a convention, that’s considered normal!). My friend smiled on as she let me express everything that I had to keep inside until I had the right time to expel my emotions. I was on cloud nine. Ten, if at all possible.

The next day would be the con’s final day, which I would attend alone. My friend needed to catch the ferry in order to prepare for her courses the day after. I did a scan of the convention hall one final time in case there was something I missed purchasing. Afterwards, I sat on the cold hard flooring of the convention centre hallway for a bit of a break. I was wiped out. With my phone in hand, I smiled at the messages from this one Tumblr blogger who had been following my posted adventures at the con. I had seen and replied to many of her comments on my stories I’d written thus far, and I enjoyed her matching enthusiasm for Tom and The Flash in general. I felt her to be a kindred spirit. I had no idea then that I was chatting with one of my future best friends, L.

***

I spotted her.

She was wearing an identical shirt to the one I had on—a light grey T-shirt with a sequinned Spider-Man mask in the corner, which around it read, We met on the Web. A giddy me couldn’t wait for the short escalator ride to end. Her back was to me and facing the baggage claim, so here was my chance to surprise her instead.

I towered over my friend, E, and donned a low, authoritative voice.

“Excuse me, Miss, can you come with me?”

She squealed a greeting to me and I returned it as we hugged for the very first time after two and a half years of online friendship. We would still have about two hours to kill until our mutual Tumblr best friend, L, touched down at Chicago’s O’Hare Airport from across the Pond.

Something I noticed was that E and I carried on talking during our wait like it was second nature, that we hung out like this all the time. Whereas when I met L in person for the first time the year previously, our first meeting was that of quiet, delighted shock, unknowing how to react to one another’s physical presence. It almost felt like a fantasy. The closest thing we’d ever gotten to this was visiting over video chats! I’m not sure what each of these different reactions in these separate meetings meant, but what I do know is that I’ve never had such strong female friendships such as these—so full of uplifting support and love for one another. They are the greatest ladies I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.

And as a searching L eventually turned the corner to meet us in the Arrivals terminal, I caught sight of her Tom & Grant bandana tied around the handle to her carry-on bag. It was an item she had received in return for helping fund the short film produced in 2018 (I’d bought the ringtone). Seeing the accessory jolted me to remember that the former of the titular short was the reason for this long-awaited get-together holiday in the Windy City in the first place. Tom Cavanagh, unbeknownst to him, had just officially united three online friends, each from a different country, to spend six full days of in-person bonding and a whole lot of fun.

***

I should have been shelving books.

I should have been doing a lot of library-related tasks, but my head was elsewhere. Anywhere other than the small-town public library where I work. Instead, I sat on the carpeted floor of the Junior/Young Adult section with my phone in hand and a dreadful article title staring back at me.

“The Flash: Carlos Valdes and Tom Cavanagh to Exit after 7 Seasons.”

My world felt like it was falling apart.

Tom was leaving? There had been rumours and wonderings spreading around the fandom regarding whether he was leaving the show. With a storyline ending with a monumental sacrifice and a time-travelling man saying his farewells, it all seemed to point to the fact. I should have known… I could have rivalled Supergirl as being the Paragon of Hope after all the optimism I doled out to my followers and friends who would come to me worried Tom would exit the show. I would always give reasons to deny such a thing could happen, claiming that I’d believe when I saw it.

Well, there it was, and I definitely saw it.

One could feel the ripple effect over the internet of the shards of broken and riled-up hearts around the world.

Tom’s exit was on his terms, having not felt challenged by his character’s plotlines, as mentioned in a recent Entertainment Weekly article. As a viewer—and I am a viewer (Mike and Tom Eat Snacks, anyone?), it has been increasingly difficult to look past the missed shots made by story editors and showrunner, so understandably, the actor would want to seek something more exciting and meatier. That said, Tom has always shone on-screen and taken what he’s been given in stride. He turns unearthed material into diamonds and indeed shines on screen. Steals it, even! Tom easily makes the episodes he’s in better, and when he’s missing, you feel the loss. The few episodes of Season 7 without him only give us a tiny hint at how the show will be without him going forward. It much resembles when you might bring out your favourite jigsaw puzzle, only to find that the one piece you need to complete it isn’t there.

***

On a personal note, as I write this, I am roughly 20 followers away from reaching a milestone of 2,000. I have written well over 200 stories for The Flash alone (whether they be short or long, one-shots or chaptered), and goodness knows how many words I’ve generated altogether over the course of these many years with inspiration from the show and my favourite character. I’ve written and co-written novel-length stories, one monumental Wellsian story of which was done alongside L and E (almost solely done through alternating text messaging in the app, Line) that reached over 108,000 words and consisted of 42 chapters. And when I’m not writing for my blog, I’m also working on trying to accomplish my dream of becoming a published author. Just as I thought before I launched my Tumblr blog, I think again now: Might as well give it a shot, right?

***

I have watched virtually everything Tom has been in that I could get my hands on, both physically and electronically. Sure, a few titles are out of my reach and probably lost to the very early 90's forever, but from what I've seen through Tom's filmography is enough to know that he can do anything. He can play the romantic leading man that will make you fall head over heels for him or a deranged killer that will have you genuinely scared of him. That is talent. Tom always brings something new to the table from each role to the next, and (when he's not playing those psycho killers) you can't help but admire his craft.

Not only is his acting stellar, but from what we as fans have gathered on the man, Tom has got to be one of the kindest men in the business. His humour and sheer ridiculousness could get anyone through a tough time (we’ve seen plenty of bloopers and behind-the-scenes videos to prove this!). He has clearly bottled and stored an endless supply of Fountain of Youth™ and each year continues to wow us with his handsomeness. Tom is charming, dedicated, and yes, arguably holds the world record for Bluest Eyes.

In my eyes, Tom Cavanagh gave me the two best friends I could have ever asked for, as well as plenty more lovely friends I’ve continued to make online. (One day, I hope to meet him again so that I can tell him in person how because of him, I’ve met such very important people in my life). Through Tom, I have truly found my passion for writing, and in doing so, segued me to dare to dream of becoming a published novelist. I wholeheartedly believe all of this would not have happened if it weren’t for those first series of events that led me to meet Tom and love and admire him immensely. He is indisputable proof that there are indeed men like him out there. Indeed, he did ruin all of my future expectations of men. He ruined my life in the absolute best way and I am eternally grateful.

I am very much looking forward to what Tom will do next. I think it’s rather needless to say that I will follow him in his career, as he has gained a devoted fan for life. He represents so much to me and so much of it I have gained since meeting him that fateful day, when I thought to myself, Maybe I should buy this T-shirt and get this guy to sign it. Wherever Tom goes in life, I’ll be here to cheer him on.

I have a pretty good feeling plenty of others will, too.

[danddymaro]

Perfect | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Who Is the Perfect man for (f/n)?

-Something Corny, and sweet.

Word Count:  2826

Perfect 

He found it impossible to compete with his closest friend, not just because it was morally wrong to try and get the same girl, but because all in all, he had no chances with her, and he was well aware.

'Because even if I'm wrong,' He started, '...Even if it's not Steve... then I'd still be the last person in the world you’d ever look at,' He silently declared, truly believing it.

'You could always do so...so much better than me,' He thought with dejection.

'I know it...but even then, I'm willing to make a fool of myself. 

 I want to let you know because it's getting harder and harder to just sit back,'

"(f/n)" He said while following up with a harsh swallow,

"I'm not perfect like Steve," Bucky started, "...I’m not someone who’s loved by everyone, and looked up by just about every child on the damn planet," he confessed, and at his sudden outburst she let out a surprised peep, turning to him with wide eyes,

“Wha-”

" And I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm not him!" He cried out. " But I wish I was..." he added, knowing just how much the woman idolized the other man.

"I really wish I were." He added with a short mutter.

 (f/n) eyed his pain-stricken face with concern, because there was an obvious shine of heartbreak in his steel-colored eyes, causing a hitch in her breath, her heart stopped by the sight before it tore in two, further breaking as she saw his expression grow even more with anguish and melancholy as his chest heaved with heavy breaths.

- This was the endgame, the all or nothing for him,

"In Fact, I'm the furthest thing from a hero and I know that." he continued on, a dry laugh tailing the words because he found it almost amusing how little he was in comparison to the perfect blonde.

‘When I stand next to him… I can’t help but feel like I’m less.’

"- I know what I am," he added, trying his best to let his wavering smile last.

He wanted to at least look brave, to look like a real man and not the groveling mess he really was as he forced out the words, battling rough the pain that threatened to take over.

Her (e/c) colored eyes went wide as he said that, and she immediately rushed to his side, " No Bucky, please don't start with that, you're a good person!" she said with a certainty that almost convinced him.

Like many times before, she rushed to his side, both Metaphorically and in literal actions, trying her best to assure him, and it was yet another reason why he cherished her so much.

"It can't be true if I don't believe it," She said stubbornly, throwing him a glowing grin as she said the words, the expression brightening even more as he looked at her dumbfounded,

"What does that even mean?" He asked her, a little chuckle leaving him.

"Just what I said," She went on, " It can't be true if I don't accept it," She reiterated.

He let the words settle in, and it wasn’t long before eye understood, by then offering  her a tired, little smirk  as he shook his head, "So, it’s just that easy?" He asked her, the moronic simplicity of it amusing him.

"For me it is," she told him, "For me, it's easy to accept that you're not a monster. It's easy for me to believe it, and even if you keep telling me otherwise, Buck...It won't change the way I see you," She explained,

"So just think of it that way, that, even if the entire world believes it, you included, there's not a damn thing in the world that will let me fall into the same train of thought.

As long as I'm kicking there's doubt,

And as long as there is doubt, it can't be accepted as truth," She spelled out, the certainty she displayed showing to be unwavering.

‘Only you...’ He thought with disbelief, 

“You really are something else,” He muttered, the little grumble rousing a little giggle.

She was the anchor to his unsteady boat and all the while the kindness she showed him made him fall harder under her spell, giving him more excuses to come closer to her, it also scathed him, because he knew that she only saw him as the pathetic mess in need of care.

And he wanted much more than that. 

He shook his head and took advantage of the closeness of their bodies by taking hold of her, his hands at her upper arms,

"- (F/n)," He started, mauling over how it had taken him months to find the perfect moment, the instant where he'd risk everything.

‘This is it,’ He told himself.

"You don't need to coddle me like that," he said with a soft sound of amusement escaping his nose. Afterward, he then took a deep, slow breath through his parted lips, before he tightened his hold by only a small degree, careful to not hurt her with his metal arm.

"Look... I can't be him, and I'm sorry," He said softly, truly sounding regretful for something he had no control over.

"I can't be Steve, and there's not a day that goes by that I don't wish I could stand in his shoes for just an instant, and feel what it's like to have you see me with anything but pity.” He revealed, “ Because then...(F/n) you’d see me in the way I really want you to look at me as...as a man." he confessed.

‘I don’t want you to feel bad for me anymore. In fact, I don’t want to be swallowed up by the same pity myself,’ He thought to himself.

" Look, I'm not as smart as Banner, because I still struggle with the technology of today and I know it'll get annoying," he said trailing off, not finding a single strong point he held in the field, "But I'll try... I really will," he swore.

At the confession, a small smile made its way onto her features, because he was right, he was a helpless mess when it came to the more modern things, but, to her, it was adorable.

She found it cute, and just another reason to stay by him a bit longer.

Watching him fiddle with his phone with that adorable, little face of confusion he gave her was all the more reason to sit closer to him, taking hold of his hand within hers to lead his finger across the screen and navigate through all its apps and features.

" I'm not wealthy like Stark… in fact, I could never have that much money and spoil you as much as he could." He told her, " I know some women like fancy jewelry and nice expensive dinners, but the most I can do for you now is a small bouquet of ( favorite flowers)...because I know how much you like them," He said softly, having noticed how much she stopped by to visit the little patch of them as they took small walks.

"Sorry," She said with a sheepish smile, " I know it gets annoying," She said while petting the small petal, " But I really like these flowers," She said while gazing at the blossom,

" They're my favorite," She told him, having to only mention it once for him to remember, ingraining it in his brain that if he ever got her flowers they'd be the ones she loves most.

' I know everything about you,' he thought with fondness. ' Because...Because I always remember everything you have to say...I cling to every word because I know that sometimes you think you’re not heard.'

"I remember every bit of you, down to the stupid little faces you want me to forget," he said making her hold back a small chuckle as she glanced away, turning pink at the mention.

"I'm not a prince like Thor.. or ...even a God..." he continued on, speaking with just abit more lightheartedness while gazing at the sweet expression she wore.

"I'm not funny like Clint since you seem to love his jokes so much...for whatever reason," he said with furrowed brows, seemingly stumped on that one because Clint Barton’s humor was just simple, stupid puns that made everyone else roll their eyes.

"And don't get me started on Sam..." He muttered, detesting how easily the two flowed with each other, all to the point they seemed to share a single, working  brain cell, and it only made the older man wish he had the same ability to just work with her without the awkwardness and fear.

‘But I just get so nervous...’ he lamented, ‘ I just end up overthinking it all, and it’s because you have this effect on me,

In fact, it’s a miracle I’m even getting through this now,’

(f/n) shook her head at him, because Bucky didn't need to tell her jokes to smile, and they didn't need to make stupid banter either.

she didn't need to find a reason to smile with him, because, she just did, naturally.

- It was like second nature while at his side.

"I'm not as charming as that Loki guy.

I see the way you smile at the sound of his voice and I'd be lying if I said I really didn't wish mine sounded like his," He said with a dry chuckle, knowing he grew especially jealous when the other man purposely pronounced certain words for her, just to make her giggle, living for the attention he received.

'Oh...Bucky,' (f/n) thought while shaking her head, because, truth be told, the sound of his voice was much more her taste. She loved the sound of it from when it goes higher with joy, or mellows down in serenity, and even when it trembles as he tells her his worries.

‘I don’t think you realize how expressive you’ve become,’ She mused, ‘ Oh Buck, I could go on forever listening to you instead.' She thought to herself. 'I'd love nothing more than to hear you every morning, and not just outside my door. 

I mean first thing...right as I wake up.

And then...afterwards, fall asleep to your murmurs.' she inwardly spoke with the same bashful expression that had yet to cease,

'Bucky...' She thought with a soft smile. 'You’re such an idiot.'

"- I'm just not... not him. I'm not any of these men.

I don't have anything to offer you...

Not a single thing to my name that can bring you pride, " he admitted while looking down at his hands, both gloved limbs because he detested looking down at what actually lay beneath the piece of clothing.

"My arm is like a spoon on a stove on most summer days and a block of ice on winter ones.

So, I could never give you a fully warm touch, one that’s comforting and that I know you deserve." He said softly, having gone over the thought so many times that it haunted him.

"I'm not perfect..." he said dejectedly, saying so in a way that seemed as though it was meant for himself to remind him of just who he was before he got his hopes up too far.

‘What am I even doing...?’ He asked himself, his shoulders slowly falling as he weighed in the facts.

‘Oh...I'm not either Bucky,' She thought while feeling her heart race.

What he believed to be perfection was all misguided, because All the details and traits he wanted to have were things he didn’t need.

"I know I'm not.

I'm at the point where I'm still struggling to remember who am...and much more, somehow make up for all the wrong I’ve done.

(f/n) , I'm Still struggling to accept what I've done...which is a lot." He confessed, sighing deeply. " I've done so much wrong that I don't ever think ill be able to atone for my wrongdoings.

In short, I could give you a list of the many things wrong with me, and it'd run for miles, but there is one thing that I know is right,

And...And it's that I love you." He said while finally uttering the three words he's wanted to tell her for ages now.

"I love you so much (f/n), it hurts right here when I'm not with you, " He admitted, clutching his chest, placing his palm right above his bouncing heart.

Taking her hands in his he lifted them to his lips, offering her a tender kiss to each Knuckle, and all the while she stood watching, still stunned by his confession.

"Doll, you make my heart race like crazy!" he said with astonishment, peering down at her with glowing eyes.

"Sometimes, you make me feel like I'm back where I was when everything was simple and good, and for those moments, I feel fully human.

Yeah, There are times when my brain goes haywire, and I get stupidly tongue tied, but, when I’m not  rendered stupid, with you...everything feels right.

 And just looking at you does that to me!" he said cocooning her hands in his.

"You give me nostalgia of good times and make me forget I'm a mess, and that's all I want now, to feel like a regular guy and...maybe, settle down.” He revealed, letting her know what she inspired in him.

‘A family? For me?’ He asked himself, ‘ You make me think of building an actual future,’

“-I know one thing for certain and ...and It's that whatever I become after this will revolve around you,

Always.

Because you're the center of my universe (f/n).

I didn't want to force you into loving me, to pity you into accepting me, that's why I've been silent, but I also can't keep this to myself anymore, because I feel like it’s slowly killing me," He said while tightening his hold on her.

“Keeping this from you is torture,” He added." If I lose you because I was too afraid to take the risk I don't know what I'd do with myself. And I know that even if everyone else in the world has a better shot than me...Even if they're all better in every way, no one else can love you the way I do,” He told her. 

“And you deserve to be given the world, if not the entire universe!

(F/n) ,  I'm asking for the chance, The chance to try and hand it to you, " he pleaded. "That's all I need, it's all I need to prove myself. I'll try my best to make you happy and treat you like a prince- no like a queen. " He went on, rambling and unwinding everything he'd kept silent.

Her (e/c) eyes were wide and her brows rose as high as they could, shaking like a leaf in his hands, and seeing that he felt anxious,

"Don't be afraid of me, please. You can even say no if you want, just don't leave me.

 Even if you don't want me as a man, I still want to be able to see you, I still want to be a part of your life, no matter how meaningless it is, because I just want to make you happy."

His eyes then met hers, and in that one glance, his heart exploded into little bits and pieces.

Her eyes were glistening with tears, but beneath that, they twinkled with the glee. They sparkled like they never had before and he couldn't help but stare at the woman, becoming dumbstruck.

" You took all this time to list the things you're not Bucky..." she replied, finally speaking, finding her voice. " but you forgot to mention everything that makes me want you instead," She told him.

She then wrapped her arms around his neck, latching onto him, unashamed at coming closer.

Without skipping a beat he lifted her up and wrapped his arms around her waist.

Spinning her around he smiled,

"Doll... I'll make you happy, I promise...I'll find a reason to make you smile every single day." He swore, heading down for a kiss he'd craved.

Through her response she smiled, kissing him back with the same yearning, thinking of no one else but the man that held her so dearly,

“I love you too,” She said back, the words filling him with even more joy because while he wasn’t in any way near faultless, she loved him.

‘I’m not perfect either,’ She mused, ‘But you think I’m worth being handed the entire world and more,’ She went on, truly touched by his declarations, 

In spite of his every insecurity and doubt, she saw him as her own perfection, finding it amusing because all the while, she’d been afraid to take the step closer, 

“I couldn’t ask for better,” She breathed, 

“I couldn’t love anyone else,”