#I don’t hate MCR or anything

[monochrome-dundee]

Why on earth did the movie use a MCR cover of a Bob Dylan song when the movie opened with a Bob Dylan song

[chaoticbuggybitchboy]

I haven’t seen anyone else on here talking about this but we have more Mikey kitchen adventures

[annarubys]

i don’t remember sing being on glee because i’ve never gotten that far on a rewatch and i wasn’t into mcr yet when i watched it the first time but every time i listen to it the only thing i’m thinking about is how much it sounds like a song glee would cover. i don’t need to seek out the cast recording to be able to hear it in my head

[l3viat8an]

Ro what about random silly headcanon with the bros? Anything you want to share 👁👁

👀 yessss I have so many silly hcs!!- These are all over the place ‘n not in any real order cuz I’m just typing them out as I go :))

Beel will lay in bed for hours at night just watching those cake decorating videos. he gets so mesmerized by them that he doesn’t notice just how much time has passed and suddenly it’s like 5am.

Satan runs a cat meme page on devilgram and a ‘best cat videos’ deviltube.

On the topic of cat memes, Mammon has a ton saved on his DDD that he’ll spam Satan with whenever Satan’s in a bad mood. Mammon knows they’ll make Satan feel a bit better- or at least laugh.

Lucifer sleeps in until noon or later on sundays. His brothers could literally be burning the house down around him and it just….doesn’t matter. He is NOT getting out of bed until he absolutely has to.

Lucifer was a huge MCR fan and even has a few old t-shirts in the very back of his closet.

Lucifer’s ears turn red when he’s really mad. So do Satan’s but don’t tell him.

Satan like scrapbooking. Occasionally he’ll ask Asmo for pictures of everyone (even Lucifer) to add to his scrapbooks, especially after big events because Asmo always has the best picture of everybody having fun!! Asmo’s the only one that knows about this and he thinks it’s adorable to see more of Satan’s ‘soft side’.

Belphie sleeps with one sock on because his feet gets cold, but both socks on make him feel too hot- it’s weird I know- but one sock is perfect for him.

Belphie HATES cold showers, like if there isn’t enough hot water for him to rise off he’ll just get out with soap still in his hair.

Levi is actually a REALLY good driver!!- but other cars on the road and traffic in general terrifies him so he never drives. (unless it’s an emergency.)

Asmo loves sketching landscape / flowers and has a couple sketchbooks full of amazingggg sketches!! But he doesn’t think they’re any good, so he keeps it a secret.

Asmo collets candles.

Levi once lost a bet to Mammon and had to wear his Ruri-Chan cosplay to RAD. (which really backfired because everybody LOVED IT and Levi was the most popular demon at RAD for a day.)

Belphie is lactose intolerant.

Mammon is insanely good at Uno, he once went undefeated for 7 months then Lucifer beat him in 4 turns. LMAOOO

Levi can’t pose for pictures to save his life, his default pose is that NPC stance with his arms just hanging down and his eyes wide in surprise. It looks like you’re holding him at gunpoint. don’t ask him to smile either because that just looks worse….

Beel doesn’t really understand personal space- so he’s always standing just a little too close when he’s talking to somebody. (most people think he’s trying to be intimidating, but he’s really not.)

‘n uhhhhh that’s all for now XD

[anothersuperstition]

new comprehensive (long, so sorry) commission post!! i lost my job a couple months ago (turns out the office manager is literally evil and she set me up to get fired on purpose :D) so commissions and my freelance work are my main source of income rn and every single extra comm helps!!

i’ve also been trying to take advantage of my free time and use it to grow as an artist and practice things i normally don’t so i would love to try some more nonstandard comms alongside tattoos!

as always line art only tattoo designs are $50 flat (*edit to say line art only FLASH tattoo designs), full color tattoo designs and everything else offered (portraits in any style, illustrations, posters) are all unique and prices will depend on content so if you’re interested or if you’ve got an idea and you’re not sure i can do it, feel free to shoot me a message for more info!!

examples of my work! (please open the images for full view i’m bad at formatting) ⬇️

posters! from show specific, to movie posters inspired by your fave albums or songs! (does not have to be mcr i just have brain worms)

tattoos! from small flash designs to full scale, neo trad or line work or anything in between!

illustrations! full page, comic-inspired, small and stylized (gerard way style inspiration optional!), you name it!

portraits!! these are my favorite to do and i never get to do them! pencil or painting, if sketchy and painterly are your thing i can do that! if cleaned up and smooth are your thing i can also do that!

so sorry for the novel length post, i hate doing it as much as you all hate seeing it, but a girl’s gotta pay the bills! tumblr is where i first found my footing as someone who was taking commissions and i’m allergic to social media these days but tumblr still feels as comfy as it did back then and i appreciate everyone who has been kind and supportive to me here over the years!! even reblogs help, thanks y’all!!

[gerardpilled]

I want to say thanks for acknowledging and being critical of racism done by MCR band members and racism in the scene in general. I just recently got into MCR a year ago on a deeper scale and I have found many things off putting and kind of yikes. It's nice seeing someone who is critical of what the band members have done in the past and not excusing them and addressing that it was an issue as a whole. I used to be very hateful towards Lindsey but now I realize that it would be hypocritical (I still do not like MSI just due to it not being my taste in music and I don't care for that shock value type lyrics). I was wondering if you know any resources that talk more about racism in the scene? It's something I'd like to know more about

Oh it’s no problem! Thank you for thanking me, but I don’t see myself as doing anything special. I was raised in an environment where I was fortunate enough to be around people and friends who have made me aware of implicit racism -from my self and others- since an early age. Hearing “well, that’s cause you’re white” is a playful joke but it also made me aware of stuff! Just from what I’ve seen in recent years, the shortcomings of white people who are the focus of fandom are often ignored. There’s nothing wrong with pointing out a racist thing your fave said or did because it doesn’t necessarily make them A Racist™️ (sometimes it can). It also helps people recognize the issues before they get worse. POC aren’t a monolith - there are plenty of things disagreed on amongst any community - but there are definitely over arching sentiments.

Anyway, I’m basically just reiterating a bunch of talking points made by poc on here. As for further reading, I feel like the best sources for me have been mutuals’ posts. First hand stories. Being receptive when people share how certain things make them feel. Racism in this particular scene is also sort of a new and emerging topic as the people who lived through the heart of it are just now reaching authorship age. I look forward to seeing what comes out in the next few years.

What I have right now:

My Chemical Relaxer - a short autobiographical story about growing up Black and emo

News story about how the current state of hardcore is looking much more diverse

Sing It Zine - zine made by fanartists a few years ago!! It’s great, I bought a digital copy myself. It’s filled with art and short essays about how it felt to grow up in a scene that often ignored non white people. Also a bunch of tumblr users participated, so it offers a great follow list if you’re interested.

If anyone else has any suggestions, add them in a reblog, or send them and I’ll do it!

[fbfh]

Curiosity is a Wonderful thing ch. 11

wc: 13.2k

genre: slow burn, little angst, childhood best friends to lovers

pairing: slow burn bff!ben x fem daughter of alice!reader, mal x ben (allegedly), platonic reader + mom!alice

warnings: severe mommy issues, brief touch on food scarcity and trauma, COMPHET, reader scratches her arm and bleeds a little, one use of the word purge in a non food related sense, ben has a gnarly panic attack, very mild dubcon bc mal used mind control on ben without him knowing (she didn't do anything physical with him it was just ethically questionable at the very best and the important thing is ben feels gross about it), ben very briefly contemplates involuntary manslaughter, one use of the phrase "being [someone's] bitch", comfort from reader's mom

summary: Ben and Mal go on a date. You follow a rabbit. All three of you begin to realize things of critical importance.

song recs: dream girl evil - florance and the machine, girls against god - florance and the machine, tell me I'm okay patrick - rachel bloom/crazy ex girlfriend cast, hovering - miley cyrus ft trace cyrus, when you wish upon a star ethereal remix - a.krishna, nothing is every anyone's fault - crazy ex girlfriend cast, when you wish upon a star (music box) - the by8nd, silly lullaby - natasha richardson

a/n: your outfit, your mom's outfit, optional face/voiceclaim for adult alice (it's natasha richardson)

THANK YOU GUYS SO MOTHERFUCKING MUCH FOR YOUR SUPPORT??????? LIKE WHAT THE FUCK. also as per ush (how do we phonetically spell the first part of usual????) fangz 2 cici 4 betaing lulz mcr rox. btwTHERE IS WONDERLAND TERMINOLOGY USED IN THIS CHAPTER!!!!!!! HERE IS THE GLOSSARY!!!!!!!!!! the tldr from memory is as follows:

brillig = late afternoon around when you would start cooking dinner

nunz = don't go (with a sense of urgancy/immediate importance)

gyre = to spin around and around like a gyroscope

mimsy = flimsy/miserable hybrid word (think sad wet pathetic little mewmew)

gallymoggers = cuckoo bananas crazy

so yeah!!! I think I got everyone from my asks and replies (LOVE YOU ALL SO FUCKING MUCH EVEN YOU SILENT READERS YES I LOVE YOU TOO LURKERS AND LIKERS AND SILENT REBLOGGERS <333 YOU SPECIFICALLY READING THIS RIGHT NOW) so if you wanna be added or I missed you just hoot and holler in the notes!! (or if you wanna be more anon you can message me too I don't mind in the slightest uwu)

tags @yesv01@magcon7280 @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sunshineangel-reads @dustyinkpages @inejsknifes @tulipmagnoliaisme @ev3ningrain @yokolesbianism @ma1dita @casey1-2007 @roseidol @eaterof-concrete @enhacatalog @inejghafawifesblog @jjmaybankisawesome @leovergurl @formulas-bitch @starsdotalk @tulipmagnoliaisme @inejsknifes @ficslutt @bwormie @urmomlikeslinotoo @jazhandzzz

Mal has a lot of reasons to hate herself. She’s weak, sensitive, and incompetent at best on a good day, as her mother likes to say. She has no grit, no spite. She knows this, because she grew up hearing it. One of the last things her mother told her before shipping her off that god forsaken rock was don’t blow it. Mal knew from her words, from the frightening pleasantness in her voice and tension in her eyes what she really meant. The way she clamped her sharp nails down painfully into Mal’s shoulder - from a distance, a maternal and supportive gesture - the weight that this opportunity held. 

If you asked Maleficent for a list of all the things wrong with her daughter, she could easily fill a book. Probably several, but Mal doesn’t think she actually cares enough about her daughter to pay close enough attention to do so. If she found out her mother put that much effort into listing her flaws, she thinks that would be the most mother daughter bonding she’s ever received. She might try becoming worse somehow, just to disappoint her mother further and give her more to work with. 

Many of the things her mother thought of her, she had started to believe over time. But now, Mal finds herself in an unusual, almost funny position of being able to add a new failure, a new flaw to that eternally winding, growing list. 

Mal is getting attention from a boy. And worse, she likes it. 

So really, it’s two for one. 

Being around Ben felt weird at first. He kept trying to kiss her, which was… gross. Mal justified it as being above all that, being too wicked and rotten for mushy gushy matters of the heart. Maybe it’s really because it’s just… too much. It’s all so much, happening so fast. A week or two ago she couldn’t be alone with anyone without trying to figure out who was going to shank who first. 

She knows that’s not how Auradon works, she knows the crime rate here is basically zero, and she wonders if she’ll ever be able to shake that feeling. Like being safe is somehow worse than being in danger. At least danger is familiar. That’s probably why she’s able to strut playfully across the rickety old rope bridge the way she is. Behind her, Ben chuckles nervously, holding tight onto the sides.

It was annoying at first, all the attention. She laughed about it with Evie. Or she tried to, at least. But the more time they spend in this frilly princess infested hellhole, the more Mal notices Evie seeming… different. Their banter and mean spirited jokes that flowed so easily seem to have evaporated overnight. 

She can tell Evie’s not as into it anymore. No one else could, but Mal can. She wonders if this means Evie isn’t as into her anymore. Mal wouldn’t call them friends. She wouldn’t call any of her friends friends. But no one would ever deny the bond, the loyalty between the four of them. The thought of Evie drifting away, pulling back from her like this hurts. It would be so much better if she just full on betrayed Mal, stabbing her in the back and sabotaging her. At least that way, they’d still be speaking the same language.

She thought if anyone would be excited about getting some idiotic prince in her clutches, a figurehead to manipulate and make dance like a puppet, it would be Evie. But now, for the first time in her life, Mal feels like she cares more about boys, about bagging a prince than Evie does. It’s strange. It’s unfamiliar, uncomfortable, and she doesn’t know how to fix it. How to make things normal again. 

It’s not like she could even call Evie out on it, either. She’s being normal enough. Mal could see her beaming ear to ear with that dazzling, blinding smile before she even got the question out of her mouth - will you help me get ready for my… date? She gagged a little when she said that, but Evie was too busy hugging her and talking about what to do with her hair to even notice. When they talked about dresses and blush undertones - something she’s still not sure she fully understands - things were great. They were better than normal, she felt like she and Evie were more in sync than they have been in years. It felt good.

 It’s when she brought up Ben that she noticed Evie’s light dim a little. Her heart just wasn’t in it. So Mal did what she does best. She deflected. She started talking about split ends, and kibbe types, and other stuff Evie has encyclopedic knowledge about that Mal has never even heard of, and just like that - boom. The sparkle was back in Evie’s eyes, the sincerity back in her smile. So Mal swore to herself that she just wouldn’t bring him up. Unfortunately, that’s proving to be easier said than done. 

Ben isn’t making things any easier for her, either. He’s been so nice, so disgustingly kind and considerate that it makes Mal sick. The worst part, the thing that really fills her with dread and sickening disgust is that he’s been like this the whole time. Before this stupid spell and the stupid cookie, before the stupid tourney game. He’s been thoughtful and considerate and kind, and good since the moment they stepped foot out of the limo. If limos don’t normally come filled with candy, that means he was good and kind even before they got to Auradon.

She feels giddy around him. Sick, and giddy. Despite everything, despite a lifetime of training for this, she can’t stop leaning into it, indulging herself. It’s so fucking stupid, she barates herself even as she turns and smiles at Ben, lets him guide her through the forest. 

“Tell me something about yourself you’ve never told anyone,” Ben requests gently, so gently it makes her flinch. For a moment, she’s pulled out of her spiraling maelstrom of self loathing.

“Um…” She hums out loud, silently letting herself revel in this feeling of captivating someone. Not scaring them, not grabbing them by the jaw and locking eyes while hers flare green, imposing her will, but actually having someone want to listen to her. Voluntarily, and not under threat of bodily harm. 

“My middle name is Bertha.” 

Ben chuckles behind her, and she turns back around away from him quickly so she doesn’t have to look at him. She’s not even sure if that’s true, and for the first time, she feels a dull pang of guilt for lying. It sounds stupid, the kind of thing no one would lie about, but Mal doesn’t even know if she has a middle name. She doesn’t know if she has a last name, other than Young Mistress of Evil, but having an embarrassing middle name sounds like something that other normal people her age would experience. 

So she goes with Bertha. 

She makes some little comment about her mom, and it gets a laugh out of Ben, one she tries to laugh along with.

“Mine’s Florian.” Ben says in understanding. “Ben Florian Lemaitre-Alarie Leroy de le Lumme-Mont.” 

Mal turns her head away, but she can still feel his eyes on her. 

“Wow. How princely.” She quips. 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, trying to look at her. She starts walking again. “It’s- it’s a mouthful…” 

He follows her closely, and soon they reach the end of the bridge. 

“Okay, close your eyes.” He instructs, placing his hand on her shoulder to stop her. 

Her stomach drops. Her brow furrows, and she shifts away from him on instinct. 

“Why…?” She asks skeptically. 

He pauses for a moment, then laughs sweetly at her reaction. 

“It’s okay, it’s just a surprise.” He says, his voice so earnest she can almost bring herself to believe him. “You’ll be okay. I promise.” 

Sixteen years of muscle memory force her to dig in her heels, to throw his allegedly good word out the window. But against her better judgment, her mind clouded with that squishy sappy dizzy feeling, that contact high she’s been getting from being around him too much, she reluctantly agrees. She knows that Ben won’t harm her because he can’t - not as long as she’s in his head.

She thinks back to the relief that flooded her when she finally pieced the plan together. She had two obvious choices; a love spell, or some sort of mind control. Mind control would have been ideal, she thought. It’s more predictable, plus it will score her some major points with her mother. 

She thought about  how great it would be, following in her footsteps and hypnotizing Ben with incorporeal hypnosis, just like her mother had hypnotized Audrey’s to touch the spinning wheel. 

She tried her hardest, she really had. But it turns out that hypnosis with eye contact or an artifact is already hard enough to begin with. Incorporeal hypnosis is about a thousand times harder. Worse off, Mal had never been able to practice magic a day in her life. All she knew until recently was theoretical second hand knowledge, gleaned from her mother’s drunken recollections of the good old days after a few too many absinth martinis. 

Mal never knew how her mom could drink that stuff. She once tried a pinky dip of the poison ivy infused gin her mother made to use in her drinks, and quickly realized it was a terrible mistake. It tasted like bitter greens and itchy, fiery spice. Her mouth was burned for a week, but her mother could easily down two or three over dinner, insisting the poison ivy gives it just the kick it needs. She asked her mother about it once, and shocked Mal when she actually answered her question instead of glaring or going off on another delusional tangent. 

“Oh, it’s a dragon thing.” She sighed. “Once you’ve had fire in your mouth, nothing tastes strong enough.”

For a moment, Mal could pretend this was what things were always like. They were always a normal mother and normal daughter. She always got advice and anecdotes from her mom. She’d get scolded if she came home scraped up or too late because her mother always cared enough to notice. Then Maleficent grabbed her shoulder, bringing Mal to look out the window at Auradon with her. 

“Someday you’ll know what I mean. After your first time transforming, you’ll understand.” She had chuckled. For a moment, just one moment, Mal dared to see the faintest glimmer of hope on the horizon. Maybe things will get better, her mother will care about her, be proud of her already. 

“Because one day, Mal, we’re going to get out of this dump… and onto the throne. Right where we belong…”

That was the day she’d been forced to let go of that hope. Her mother doesn’t care about her, just that she can have an extra pair of hands, a faster set of reflexes and a sharper pair of eyes. But she never quite let go of making her mother proud. That still seemed like something she could try for. 

That’s how she came up with the whole cookie angle. She found a simple amplification and extension spell, and managed to bake it into a cookie. Once Ben ate it, the spell would be absorbed into his system longer, making it easier to control him. After days and days of research, she came to two conclusions - one shocking, the other terrifying. Shocking was that love spells don’t actually exist. The only ones she could find word of were gimmicky ads in gossip magazines, and even those were few and far between. That’s when the second realization hit. She has to figure out how to make hypnosis work. That’s her only hope, her only chance.

Ben’s hands are strong on her waist, strong enough to make her jump and pull her from the memory that seemed to envelop her out of nowhere, hiding her from the world. She lets him guide her through the unfamiliar terrain. She tries to shake the memories, tries to get rid of that sinking, disorienting, cold feeling. Right now, she has a part to play. She has to be a good girlfriend, she has to get the wand and make her mother proud. 

It’s all part of the plan. It’s part of the evil scheme, that’s why she’s acting so coy and flirtatious, that’s why she’s letting Ben keep his hands on her waist and guide her gently through the forest, his voice soothing in her ear as he instructs her on where to turn and where any rocks and branches might block her path. She keeps telling herself, reminding herself of this because maybe if she tells herself enough, she’ll be able to ignore the fact that she’s enjoying it, leaning into the attention and safe presence of Ben’s big hands and strong chest behind her. 

“Oh, watch your foot… there you go.” He coaxes, guiding her past an overgrown shrub, careful to make sure she doesn’t get scratched up. “You good?”

He asks so gently, so sincerely, that Mal feels herself almost shrinking back a little. 

“Yeah,” she says lightly, with a forced chuckle.

“Good,” he breathes, and she can hear the smile in his voice. He moves her so easily, positioning her so she stands just in front of him, his chest to her back. She doesn’t like how small and… dainty, and pretty, and fragile she feels around him. It’s intoxicating and terrifying.

“Okay,” he says, gentle voice spiking with anticipation. He rubs his hands up and down her arms softly, struggling to stifle his excitement. 

“Ready? Open.” She hesitates, then complies. She sucks in a breath, eyes widening at the most breathtaking thing she’s ever seen. 

Covered in ivy, and vines blooming with morning glory and lilac, an open air greek pavilion sits in the middle of an enticing, crystal clear lake. Even though only half of the pillars and colonnades remain, the circular stone base is solid. Buttery golden sunlight dapples peacefully through the lush flora and plant life all around them, hiding it from sight. 

The lake itself - calm and so blue it’s almost green - is surrounded by rocky, grassy bluffs, just high enough to dive off of. To Mal’s shock, nothing around her looks… menacing. The cliffs aren’t jagged and ominous, the water isn’t murky and threatening. The rocks are smooth. Inviting, even. The crumbling pavilion itself seems like it’s been worn away from time, not from neglect or destruction. There’s no litter or trash, there’s no graffiti, no broken beer bottles or cigarette butts. 

It all seems so… welcoming. Safe, and friendly. Peaceful. After a moment of basking in the haven of tranquility before her, she notices a blanket spread out on the middle of the stone floor. It’s a bright, vibrant blue, and is free of any stains or patches or holes. Laid out on top of the blanket like something from a magazine is a spread of the freshest, juiciest, most wonderful looking food she’s ever seen. 

She gasps softly, turning to look at him, and sees he’s been looking at her the whole time. She studies his face for a moment, trying to figure out if this really is all for her. His smile tells her everything she needs to know. She lets out another breathy gasp as she turns back to the pavilion, feeling like it’s the sort of thing you’re supposed to do in this situation. 

She knows it’s all pretend, playing the part of the pretty damsel like this. The type of girl who’s wanted, who strong, influential people like Ben always protect. Somehow, knowing that it’s pretend doesn’t get rid of the way it feels - the good feelings, or the sickening ones. 

When the rocks have magically moved themselves to form a footpath onto the pavilion, Mal lets Ben guide her some more, and sit her down for their thing. Even thinking the word date still feels strange and uncomfortable. She’s quickly distracted from the uncomfortable knowledge that she’s on a date by how good the food is. 

Good doesn’t even begin to cut it, it’s delicious. Better than that, but she can’t think of anything better than delicious. It’s the kind of food she used to dream about, the kind that would show up in lavish spreads and banquets. She would always stuff her face as much as she possibly could, wanting to get enough before she woke up. Before it could disappear. 

“Is this your first time?” Ben asks softly, a knowing smile on his face. She startles slightly, forgetting he was there for a moment. 

“Um…” She starts, licking the powdery sugar off her fingers. “We don’t really date on the Isle. It’s more like gang activity.”

Ben chuckles, but it’s really not an exaggeration. 

“I meant your first time trying a jelly donut.” He clarifies sweetly. She pauses. She’s rudely awakened by that contextualizing feeling of abnormality. No, everyone doesn’t grow up not knowing their fruits and vegetables. No, everyone isn’t used to living off scraps and whatever can be scrounged together. It’s not a common, shared experience to have soggy boxes stacked up with nutraloaf bars shipped in on rat infested barges as an after school snack. 

She blinks, trying to pull herself back to the present. 

“Is it bad?” She asks cutely. Ben doesn’t chuckle like she expects. It doesn’t seem to land as endearing with him, but as a genuine question. 

“Not-”

Her eyes flare green before he can finish. Once they do, Ben chuckles. He leans closer to her, smiling softly.

Wipe the sugar off her cheek. Caress her. Act like you mean it.

No sooner does she transmute the orders into his mind that he complies. He leans in as he does, more invested in the sticky powdered sugar dusting her lips, and has her mirror his gestures. 

“Go like this…?” He says, licking the sides of his own lips where sugar sits on hers. She does, and he giggles again before reaching over to brush the rest off. Mal smiles, looking away coyly. 

“Can’t take me anywhere, I guess…” She looks away and bats her eyes like she’s seen Evie do before. Even though it’s familiar, it feels staged and contrived. It doesn’t feel natural, but like something that anyone in her position should do, so she does it. She glances down at her hands to look for any remaining sugar, and for the first time she can ever recall, she finds herself bothered by the jagged edges of her bitten nails, the chips in her worn down purple polish. 

Across from her, Ben is looking at the ground near a big old elm tree. Mal adjusts in her seat, but he doesn’t notice. She stares at him more intently, but he’s still looking off into the distance, transfixed by the place where the gnarled roots and lumpy trunk meet the grass. The illusion around Mal begins to crack. The immersion of playing princess to his doting prince starts to slip as she realizes that for the first time since casting the spell, she doesn’t have his full attention. Her expression grows stony with a cold, sick feeling as she watches his distant, almost melancholic gaze fixed on the tree.

“A tumtum what?” He had asked you one day with a chuckle.

“A tumtum tree!” You’d exclaimed back with a smile, as though you were having to explain to him something as common as clouds or air or tea. You had sighed playfully, gesturing with your hands as you explained.

“Tumtum trees have only ever been found in Wonderland. They’re quite large, even their seeds are around the size of your fist. They look like…”

You trail off, trying to think of a suitable comparison. Ben waits. He’s used to this, these pauses in your descriptions of Wonderland. The problem that you’ve found when trying to tell him about your home down there is that not everything is always like something else. It can be quite hard to describe something out of nothing, or nothing out of something. No sooner had the perfect thing popped into your mind.

“An elm tree.” You exclaim with a resolute snap of your fingers. You nod in satisfaction as you clarify, “Like a wych elm tree. A bit, at least.”

“Like which elm tree?” Ben asks, unsure if he had heard you correctly. 

“Exactly.” You nod confidently, drawing a confused, familiar smile from him. Ben watches you in fascination as you continue to describe the trees in question.

“Tumtum trees are usually quite friendly. Good at watching over one when one should find oneself in need of a cat nap.” You state, nodding surely. “Good conversationalists, too.”

Ben lets out a laugh, free and organic from his chest. 

“I forgot trees can talk down there,” he says.

“Some of them,” you say, then nod solemnly. “Some prefer other methods of communication, like pelting those they dislike with acorns, or pollen.”

He laughs again, contagiously, and it begins to spread to you as you continue.

“The most notable thing about tumtum trees is their roots and their bases. They’re usually quite big and tangled, curling in and out in lumpy little nests and sprawling through themselves-”

Ask about her.

It grabs him by the neck, roughly yanking him from his thoughts. He’s pulled from the pleasant memory of you, the voice destructively ripping through his train of thought. 

Look at her. Look at her. You have to know everything about her right now. You’re dying to know everything about her. 

The orders repeat over and over in his mind, his eyes glassy and green for the shortest moment as he’s locked into Mal’s toxic glower. The words begin to ring true. He finds himself burning with an almost painful need to know every possible detail about her. He leans closer to her.

“Tell me everything about yourself.” He asks, only hearing the question for the first time as it leaves his lips.

Mal smiles, acting surprised and flattered by the question she made him ask.

“Well,” she starts with a soft sigh, as if trying to find where to begin, “I’m sixteen. I’m an only child, and… I’ve only ever lived in one place.”

The poisonous light glows from her eyes for a moment, casting strange shadows around them. Ben responds quickly, as if he were waiting for a cue. 

“So am I! We have so much in common already,” he laughs, leaning closer. Mal laughs too, leaning away. 

“No, not as much as you might think.” She glances away, then back up at him. “Anyway, you’re going to be king soon, huh?”

Ben’s laughter grows stale, and he begins to get that distant look again, the same one he had when looking at the elm tree.

“A crown doesn’t make you a king.” He says softly, more to himself than to Mal. 

“Well… it kind of does, yeah.” Mal says dryly. She waits for another laugh, but no laughter comes.

“Your mother is the mistress of evil, my parents are the poster for goodness, but-” he hesitates, searching for the right words. “That doesn’t mean we’re automatically like them.” 

He finishes quietly, eyes falling down to his signet ring. Even with his mind a blank slate, weaved around Mal’s fingers like an obedient snake, he can still feel all the pressure, all that he has to live up to. Everything he wants to be is still right on the horizon. 

“We choose who we’re going to be.” He finishes softly.

Across from him, Mal’s heart pounds. She didn’t make him say any of that. She didn’t tell him to, he did it himself. He said that she’s not like her mom. He said that. Her heart pounds, and she wants so badly for him to say it again. His words ring in her mind like a bell, over and over. We choose who we’re going to be. No one had ever said that, or anything remotely like that to her before. No one had ever made her believe it. 

Those strange shadows dance across Ben’s face again, and Mal squeezes her trembling hands, trying to calm herself. 

Say it again, Ben. Tell her. Say she’s not evil. Say it. Tell her right now. Tell her she’s not evil. You don’t think she’s evil.

He leans in even closer. He moves his hand onto her cheek. He locks eyes with her, oblivious to the shared glowing green light between them. 

“I can look into your eyes and… tell you’re not evil.” He says with certainty. “I can see it.”

He moves closer, letting his eyes drift shut softly, tilting his head to the side-

Mal jerks away, letting go of the active control with a sudden drop. She lets out an uncomfortable laugh, scooting away from him. The pressure on his chest eases, and it almost feels like he can think again. Having a modicum of control over his thoughts and actions again, he stands up. He nods his head, gesturing for Mal to join him. 

“Come on. Let’s go for a swim.”

“Uh-” Mal falters, eyes darting between Ben and the water. “Um, no. I think I’m okay.”

“It’ll be fun,” Ben coaxes with a smile. 

“I- I think I’m gonna stay behind and try a strawberry. I’ve literally never had a strawberry before.”

She grabs a nice juicy berry and bites in, humming performatively for Ben. It takes a moment for the flavors to explode in her mouth. She can’t believe something so delicious could come from a plant. It’s so sweet, and a little bit tangy, but in a good way. It’s a different sort of sweet than sugar, though. She can’t put her finger on exactly what it is, but there’s a light twist, a depth and complexity to the taste that she never could have imagined. It somehow tastes like a bright clear morning and a darkening rich sunset all at the same time.

“Mmmh…” She hums, for real this time, taking another bite. She eats the whole berry - stem and leaves included - and Ben chuckles softly. He says something she doesn’t catch, then goes off to swim. The moment he leaves, Mal has only two things on her mind. 

Strawberries are fucking delicious, and Evie is going to love this. All of this. Picnics, strawberries, pagodas or pavilions or whatever the hell they’re called. She can see it clear as day; taking Evie out here with Carlos and Jay, the two of them can sit and talk while the boys are off splashing in the water. Evie will be so excited that she makes her and Mal matching sundresses in their colors - blue and gold, and purple and green. 

They can eat strawberries and laugh when the juice gets everywhere. They can throw shells and tourney balls into the lake for Carlos and Jay to get to keep them busy while she and Evie talk. Mal will scoff and laugh and roll her eyes when Evie reminds them all to wear sunscreen. She and Carlos will agree, but Jay will insist he doesn’t need any, and they’ll spend the following week treating his sunburn. Evie will insist on braiding Jay’s hair or twisting it up into some kind of bun or ponytail so it doesn’t get tangled. 

She’ll make Mal hold all the bobby pins and hair ties, and she’s sure Evie will have some sort of goop to put in Carlos’s hair so the water doesn’t turn it green. What’s that called again? Evie had been going on and on to Mal before they left for Auradon about how some water can turn blonde hair green. Cholera? Fluorine? Chlor… chlorine maybe? Yeah, that sounds right. There’s no chlorine in the water in the Isle, but since it can affect your hair, Mal’s not surprised that Evie knows everything about it. She doesn’t know if lake water has chlorine, but she’s sure if hair is on the line that Evie will be cautious. 

She’s only pulled from her hazy strawberry high when the berries have run out. She catches a remaining drop of strawberry juice on her finger from the edge of the bowl, and brings it to her lips. She looks around and sees Ben on top of one of the taller grassy bluffs. He waves at her, and after a moment she waves back hesitantly. She looks at his swim trunks, then yells across the lake.

“Are those little crowns on your shorts?”

Ben smiles a little, remembering when you had helped him pick them out. 

“Maybe,” he calls back. 

He lets out a loud, animalistic roar, then jumps.

She looks away before he hits the water. Her eyes fall down to the empty bowl of strawberries, the ones Evie would love. The ones Ben provided her with. She starts to relax a little now that he’s not watching her. Her facade, her perfect princessy persona starts to slip. She relaxes - her shoulders, her jaw, her posture, the grip she keeps on Ben. 

She takes a few deep breaths, trying to reorient herself, to figure out how she feels. She’s so confused, unused to acting sweet - at all, but especially around other people. She has to keep it together. She needs to use these few minutes of Ben swimming to make sure she has her head on straight and her eyes on the prize. She has to stay focused, stay grounded. 

She clenches her fists so tightly that her nails, bitten short and chipped with a deep plum polish, dig into her palms. 

She hopes the slight sting will get her head back where she needs it. The pain is good. A reminder of where she came from, what she’s here to do. She tries, but this time, it’s not enough. Not anymore. She shakes her head a little, hoping it will clear her mind, make her feel like herself again. Her hair is fried under all the purple dye, and she can tell it’s growing frizzy from the humidity and movement. She lets out an annoyed huff, and reaches up, trying to fuss with it until it looks like Evie made it look before. 

Are you kidding? The thought shows up suddenly as she catches herself worrying about her hair of all things. Realization sets in that not even that is enough to snap her back to herself. A sense of shame washes over her as she realizes how deep in all this she’s getting. In the moments after that realization, her mind begins to wander. It goes further and further from anything she had ever let herself think before. 

Maybe she could… make this work. Maybe there’s a shot at pulling it off. If she could keep Ben under her spell a little longer than necessary, she could make him fall in love with her for real. She can implant so many thoughts and repeating orders until it scrambles his brain and… makes it real somehow. Then he’ll want to look after Mal on purpose, not on principle. He can get her and her friends into witness protection or something, get some guard gargoyles and knights to watch over them.

She can talk Ben into giving her a little cottage deep in the woods - it will be safest for them there anyway. And that’s what he wants, for them to be safe. He wants that because Mal wants that, and when a prince like Ben loves someone, he makes sure they have whatever they want most. And what Mal wants most is a safe, secure, roomy cottage in the woods for her and Evie, Jay and Carlos. They’ll have a little lake just like this one, and maybe like, some ducks or something. Cats, or snakes, or whatever makes a good pet. 

Jay can chop the firewood, and Carlos can fix the computers whenever they get weird. Mal still barely understands how to use smartphones and dropbox, but Carlos has taken to all that stuff like… well, like his mom takes to furs. She’ll make sure there’s a nice big room for Evie to sew, and she won’t complain as much when Evie uses her as a dress form. They’ll have more delicious, fresh food than they can eat, and they won’t need to worry about any of this anymore.

She’ll reluctantly let Evie teach her how to use blush, and style hair. 

They’ll sit in the nice sunshine in the fresh clean air all day. She’ll make Evie crowns from all the pretty flowers that grow here so she can have as many crowns and tiaras as she wants, and Jay and Carlos can play tourney and climb trees and do whatever else they’re always doing. She can see it clear as day; Evie’s head resting in Mal’s lap while Mal uses her spellbook to weave together flowers, enchanting them to make them sparkle while Jay and Carlos laugh and roughhouse nearby. 

They’ll still share bedrooms. That’s the one thing Mal has actually kind of liked since moving to Auradon, sleeping in the same room as Evie. Getting to be close to her. She’s sure Jay and Carlos sleep better knowing they’re not by themselves, too. Maybe if the cottage is kind of small she and Evie can share a bed. She’d be fine with that. They’ll bake non magic cookies and eat strawberries, Evie will have all the ingredients she needs to make every kind of face mask and hair mask and lotion she could dream of. 

Ben will come and check in on them sometimes. Not very often, just once in a while. He’ll stop by and make sure they’re safe and protected and left alone all the time, because that’s what princes do when they’re in love with someone. They’ll never leave unless they want to, and they’ll have VIP tickets to all the balls and galas and sporting events in Auradon. Mal will go with them, because she knows things wouldn’t be the same if she stayed behind. Even though parties are boring and sports are dumb. But as long as Evie’s having a good time, she’s sure she can handle it. 

If only… if only she could figure out that it’s a sure thing. Then she’d be all the way in. 

You can’t recall a time your heart pounded in your chest like a jackrabbit as it does now, as you tread through roots and bushes and grassy forest terrain to the enchanted lake. You’ve been following the white rabbit who had alerted you to Ben’s whereabouts until you arrived at the lake. You find a little hidey-hole in the brush and gnarled roots of an old elm tree within eyeshot of the pavilion, and crouch down. You can almost make out what he’s saying, but not quite.

You fumble for your teapot bag, digging around for something you’re sure must still be in there. 

“Come on, come on…” you murmur frantically. You let out a gasp as your fingers close around the monocle, and you pull it out quickly. You’d pawned it off a ring of ring-a-ding worms in Wonderland several months ago. You weren’t sure how trustworthy they were - which usually means not very trustworthy at all if you’re doubting it in the first place - but you simply couldn’t help yourself. The monocle was a very old sort of subtitling spectacle, a kind of eyewear that lets you see what people are saying. They’re not always right, nor are they always perfect, but right now you’re desperate.

“Please please work,” you ask the glass silently before holding it up to your left eye. You squint at Ben and Mal, and between the fragments of conversation reaching your ears and the monocle, you’re able to understand things a bit better. 

“...You’re not evil. I can see it.” Ben says to Mal, as you watch and listen to his words intently. The sun is closer to setting and brillig draws nearer, basking everything in that not quite sunset glow. You try to crawl closer to see and hear better, not even noticing when you nearly lose one of your shoes in your efforts. You rub your eyes in disbelief, waiting to see what they say next. An elm leaf falls, tangling itself in your hair, and you find yourself unable to believe what you’re seeing. If you were using two monocles, you would surely dismiss it as the subtitle spectacles breaking. Unfortunately, there’s no disguising the truth you see before you. 

Ben leans in to kiss Mal, and you recoil backwards, suddenly and in shock. Your stomach twists in that terrible way, and you’re sure you’re going to be sick. You grip the grass tightly, hoping it will stop your head from spinning. This doesn’t make sense. None of this makes any sense, or nonsense at all. The world around you makes positively nothing. You can deal with chaos, with spontaneity, but this? This is just cruel. The world is… mean for making you live through this. 

You summon a rabbit hole back down to Wonderland faster than you can blink. You tumble down, dirt sprinkling down on you as you fall. Right before you’re swallowed by the earth, you scratch your arm on a rough patch of bark and roots. You catch a glimpse of your blood and tears falling in beads before you’re shrouded in darkness, blurry and delicate. They dance together like pained flurries of your heart and mind’s shared turmoil. You let yourself fall carelessly, the stuffy air disturbed by your stifled sobs slipping out where you don’t want them to. 

You don’t plan on staying long at all. You just need a few moments to collect yourself, to gather your thoughts. You take in a few deep, heavy breaths, your brow furrowing with determination. You must overcome this. You must stay focused. You have to if you’re going to have any chance at helping Ben. You let out a sharp breath with a sharp little noise attached to it, and you can feel your head coming back in place. There will be time to deal with all of this, there will be time to cry, but that time is not now.

The second Mal turns away and pulls her face from his gentle embrace, Ben takes in a deep, panting breath, feeling like his chest is suddenly less tight than it had been. He hadn’t noticed it before, but he feels the absence of his contracting muscles and shallow breaths now that they’re gone. He immediately looks back over to that elm tree, the one he was looking at before. For a moment, just a moment, he could swear he saw your fingertips, the ends of your hair, the dark glint of your silky blackberry bow falling into the earth. But he blinks, and whatever might have been there or not is gone too quickly to tell.

He shakes his head a little, hoping to reorient himself, but a breeze blows by and he could swear on anything there’s a trace of your scent carried in the air. The faintest hint of something so quintessentially you - your perfume, your smell, your blood. His chest squeezes again, this time with longing. 

He’s about to realize how long it’s been since he saw you, about to realize this is the longest he’s gone without even speaking a word to you, but something drags him back, keeping his thoughts here and now. He turns back to Mal, with that dull, throbbing headache he hasn’t been able to shake since the tourney game. 

“Let’s go swimming.” 

The enchanted lake is one of Auradon’s hidden gems. It was a gift to the newly united front of Auradon as a whole from the gods of Olympus; a thank you, an offering of goodwill for assisting in the containment of Hades. Hercules and Megara had gone through many lengthy strategy sessions and battle plans with Adam and Belle, trying to figure out how to prevent Hades from another attempt to overthrow Olympus. Adam and Belle knew that Hades was dangerous - he is a god after all - but they had no idea the extent and reach of his power. 

The First Villain Uprising was a dark time that spread over many years. Most people know the events of VU1; the poison apples, the sleeping curses and dark magic. They’re familiar enough with the coups and the curses, the unregulated dark magic running rampant through the land, wielded by power hungry loonatics. Villains. Brave leaders and heroes in countries from down near the Southern Isles to way up north in Winter’s Keep refused to cower in the face of evil. They did everything they could to stop it, and for many years the villains were presumed dead. 

The problem came from all the different countries not having a united front, not communicating with each other. There was no teamwork, no global council, so no one knew that the moment Maleficent was pierced through the heart by the sword of truth was the same moment Hades had managed to claw his way out of the river styx. The first thing he did once he got his bearings was drag Maleficent down to the underworld. She wasn’t dead, not quite yet, and they both saw the opportunity before them. A combination of Maleficent’s dark fairy magic and Hades’ rule over the souls of the dead meant they could drag the worst villains back from the depths. 

That was the start of the Second Villain Uprising. 

When the rulers figured out what was happening, they knew they had to band together, be stronger as a whole. That’s when Adam gathered up as many kings and queens as he could to start planning the first crusades. Fairy Godmother sent word out to the most powerful wizards and fairies and sorcerers she could, pleading for them to join the fight against evil. 

It didn’t take long to start rounding up villains, but they needed somewhere to put them. Eventually, Fairy Godmother devised a plan. With the help of Merlin of Camelot, Yensid of Schwartzvald, the Great Genie of Agrabah, and the Three Good Fairies of the Moors, they were able to create a magic barrier around an abandoned isle off the southern coast of Belle and Adam’s kingdom. This became known as the Isle of the Lost, the only secure place where villains and all the evil they bring with them can’t escape. 

As a thank you to the mortals down below, the gods gifted them with the enchanted lake, right in the heart of Auradon. Each god added a blessing or a gift of some kind, which is how it got such steadfast healing properties and good magic. The lake itself is magical, which is something that Belle and Adam decided not to advertise during the aftermath of the expulsion of evil. 

There was so much terror and fear in the land, people afraid of something going wrong, of some new villain popping up right when they let their guard down. Adam and Belle decided to keep the lake’s properties under wraps for the most part, preemptively stopping any attempts to stockpile or weaponize magic purely to get the upper hand in a magic cold war that has long since ended. 

The cleansing and healing properties of the enchanted lake are simplistic, but effective. Ben remembers a time when he was young, there was a brief few weeks when Adam seemed to lose control over shifting his form from man to beast. His condition was ultimately traced back to stress, a comorbid symptom of some nasty migraines, and high cholesterol. 

Rumors of his condition began to circulate, and Adam found himself splashed across the covers of gossip rags on newsstands and store checkouts. Fairy Godmother was able to fix him right up, and instructed him to fully submerge himself in the enchanted lake once a week for about a month or so. He followed her instructions to the letter, and was soon back to rights.  

As he stands on the small cliffside overlooking the serene, enticing water, Ben’s not sure what jogged that memory, or why it’s at the front of his mind right now. He shakes his head a little, but it keeps coming back, tugging at him like a child vying for their fathers attention. 

“Are those little crowns on your shorts?”

Ben glances over at the pavilion where Mal sits. He looks down, then chuckles.

“Maybe,” he calls back. Their eyes lock as Mal gathers her thoughts. Ben can feel it, the tightness coming back in his chest. Before it reaches all the way up to his head, his instincts kick in. He lets out a loud roar, then he jumps.

The water hits his skin. Instead of cool and refreshing, just the way he remembers it, it feels like a freezing cold burn. The world goes quiet as he sinks deeper and deeper into the lake, eyes widening in shock at the unpleasant, almost painful feeling. His skin burns, and he scratches at his arms and legs and chest. His hands move, frantic and sluggish in the water as he itches his neck, then his cheeks, then his head…

He freezes, muscles relaxing, limbs falling still as the water soothes him and purges the last of the fizzing magic out of him. He had no clue what was happening until it was over, and now, hovering underwater, it’s over. He knows he can’t have been down there for too long, but it’s when his instincts scream at him to hyperventilate that he realizes he’s still underwater. His eyes widen, and he fumbles, swimming to a rock hidden from the shore. 

He drags himself out of the water, chest heaving, body shaking. The surface of the rock is smooth, but he struggles to maintain his balance. He manages to flip over and lean back on the rock, praying for some stability. His free will, his mind, his cognizance is all coming back to him at once. He feels like a computer flashing a blue screen from too many programs running and downloading at the same time. 

He clutches his chest, unable to control his breathing. The disorientation starts to fade and his eyes widen with horror as the reality of the situation starts to set in, cutting through the painful panic gripping him. Mal… drugged him. Or worse, cursed him. His stomach drops, twisting sickeningly, his hands trembling out of control. He’s not normally like this. He never lets himself get like this. He heard stories about extremely powerful villains being able to use mind control or hypnosis on rare occasions, but he never expected it to feel so… violating. 

His gaze drifts downward to the rippling water. No one can know about this. This can never get out. If even a whisper of this gets out, the consequences and aftermath would suffocate him. She just jeopardized the entire future of the United Republic of Auradon. She could very well have just pounded nail after nail into the coffin containing the lives and futures of all those poor kids stuck on the Isle, the ones she claimed to care so much about. She may have destroyed lives, futures, an entire nation, for… what? 

He tries to figure out why. Why would she do this? She has to have some sort of motivation for reaching into his brain and jerking him around like a puppet, making a fool of himself in front of the public. Oh god- he thinks, remembering the tourney game. He never acts like that. He never acts erratic or impulsive. What must his parents think of him? What must you be thinking of him right now? Or the entire country? 

His throat tightens up as he starts to panic again, mind already clouded by the doom of plummeting in the polls. He’s unopposed for king, but after a disaster like this, who would want him? Someone else will run and win, because no one in their right mind would trust someone who voluntarily lets themself become a villain’s personal sock puppet to run a goddamn country! He breathes harder, flexing his fists open and closed until his knuckles go white. Why would she do something like this? What does she want from him, a second date?

He pauses. That must be it. A new wave of rage overcomes him as he realizes - unless he’s given a miraculously better explanation for this - that Mal pressed a self-destruct button for the entirety of Auradon because she has a crush on him. A stupid, goddamn teenage crush. And now his political career will be over before it could ever start because of it. He’s going to be the first king to be impeached before he’s crowned. He can’t stop spiraling, can’t stop the racing thoughts drowning him above the water. 

A loud, animalistic roar tears from his chest. It’s much more primal, more beast-like than he ever allows himself to be, but he supposes that it’s understandable for something like that to slip out given the circumstances he finds himself in. 

“Breath,” he tells himself, swallowing thickly. “Breathe.”

If he can’t get his head right, if he can’t be smart about this, it… well, that’s not even an option. He has to collect himself. He has to live up to the person his parents think he is, his country thinks he is, that you think he is. He has to be that person. He only has a few moments of this realization to reorient himself before he hears Mal’s voice. 

Instead of enticing and distracting like it had been before, now it feels like the lure of an angler fish’s light in the murky depths, it feels jarring. He shudders, recoiling like she just threw glass at him. She calls out for him again. This time, he can hear the spike of fear carried along in her voice as it echoes across the lake. Is she hurt? In trouble? He starts to go check on her, then for a moment, he hesitates.

All the thoughts racing through his mind like the piston cup find their way to the forefront of his head again. His chest aches as he relentlessly beats himself up over this. How could he let this happen? This is exactly what his parents warned him about, what he promised them - gave them his word - that he would not let come to fruition. And yet, here he is, sitting on a rock with the livelihoods of innocent people at risk because of him and his naive, stupid optimism. 

This, the wellbeing of all innocent people of Auradon, is what he’s devoted all of his time and power and care and focus and everything else he’s got within him into. All that work, all that potential for good, and now he lays paralyzed below the sword of Damocles. He can only stand there, watching the ropes fray one after another. 

“I can’t…” he pants, chest squeezing in terror again. “I can’t let this happen.”

He swallows hard, muttering to himself.

“Can’t let them win.”

He can’t let Mal achieve whatever the hell her endgame is here. He has to stop this before it gets worse. And above all, this cannot become known to the public. He can see the faces of disappointment and fear on the members of the council, on the senate. He was never ready to be king, they’d say in hushed, justified tones, the boy is a fool! How could we let him bring evil into our homes on purpose?! 

The voices in his head go on and on, painting the worst outcome possible in vibrant colors. The nation will lose any trust or faith they might have had in him. More painfully, he realizes how deeply disappointed his parents will be in him. The kind so irreparable that they can never even speak of it. His father will go silent, his mother will try to smile at him, but her tears will give her away. Disappointing his parents, disappointing you…

Oh god, you. Where are you? Where have you been during all of this? You and Ben are usually joint at the hip, but he hasn’t seen you in days. The realization makes him feel sick, like he’s just come to the realization that he hasn’t had air to breathe. What have you been doing without him? Have you been in Wonderland, or at the Wonderland Embassy with your mother? Why haven’t you texted him? Or at least called? Worse fears attack him relentlessly from the inside out, worse than ruining innocent lives or his political career because these fears are about you. 

A scream, followed by a large splash, then another more fearful scream pierce his senses, pulling his attention out of the momentary panic over you and your wellbeing. It must be Mal, he thinks, it has to be. She’s the only other person out here. She must have gotten into the water to look for him, but why does she sound like she’s struggling? He listens intently for a moment. She definitely sounds like she’s struggling. He stands up to jump into the water and find her, but before he can, something unusual happens. 

He hesitates.

After everything she’s done to him, and to the people of Auradon, after she stabbed him in the back and violated his free will for days, should he even bother trying to help her? What if this is part of some elaborate ruse, luring him into a trap by pretending to drown. Maybe she’s going to turn him into a bug and trap him in a jar, letting him suffocate slowly while she shakes it and laughs. 

What if she just… had an accident? Anyone could drown in a lake if they weren’t being careful, and he’s sure children of villains aren’t raised to be super cautious. Maybe it would be better that way. It would certainly give Ben one less problem to worry about, one less moving part to constantly keep track of. 

He dives back into the lake, swimming towards her. He bites his cheek, dismissing the fleeting, impulsive thought as quickly as it could intrude into his stream of mind. He’s not even going to waste time considering it or letting it argue his case. He knows who he is, and he knows who he chooses to be. He is never going to choose to be the kind of person who lets someone else get hurt when they can do something about it. 

If he can help anyone - regardless of who they are or what they’ve done to him - he’s going to. Even if it’s from a distance, he can’t knowingly be complicit in tragedy befalling anyone. That’s why he’s bringing over the kids from the Isle in the first place. He can’t sleep at night knowing that there are people struggling and suffering while he has the power to do something about it. 

He has to give his parents credit for raising him to have such strong moral character. That’s why, against his better judgment, he swims as fast as he can back to the pavilion. It only takes a moment for him to see her, kicking and flailing mere feet from the pavilion.

He dives as deep down as he can. He hopes that the longer he’s under the water, the more submerged he is, the less likely any more magic she tries on him will succeed. Or at the very least, she’ll have less time to try and pull something on him. His hand skims the bottom of the lake, brushing against something uncharacteristically sharp. He sees a cluster of glowy crystal like geodes - a wishing stone, he realizes. He grabs it, and shoves the rock into the pocket of his swim trunks. 

It’s not much, it’s barely anything really. But he’s sure any mildly sharp object is infinitely better than nothing when facing off against an unpredictable dark fairy. Trying to use a wishing geode to defend himself from dark fairy magic - either as a magic shield or a physical weapon - is like trying to use an umbrella in a hurricane. He’s really going into this blind, but at least he’s aware of the disadvantage he’s working against. In spite of all the massive errors and failures he seems to have accumulated out of nowhere, he can at least say he’s not stupid enough to be entirely unarmed at a time like this.

He can see Mal, splashing and thrashing about, slipping below the surface as she loses her footing. He rushes closer and grabs her, scooping her up and confidently walking them both out of the lake. He catches his breath, focusing everything he’s got on one thing - he cannot let Mal know that he knows. He has to keep his face neutral, act sweet and normal, not say or do anything that could possibly tip her off. He’s in the lion’s den, and one wrong move could ruin everything beyond repair. 

He silently thanks his parents for years and years of diplomatic training, for teaching him how to maintain his composure no matter how overwhelming his emotions are, no matter how much pressure and scrutiny he finds himself under. He reaches the pavilion in just a few steps, and sets Mal down gently. She doesn’t seem to notice anything about his behavior is different, so he keeps doing what he’s been doing. It seems to be working so far, which provides him with the briefest sense of relief. 

“Ugh!” She shrieks. He shakes the water out of his hair, trying to clear his head, and she swats at his chest, “You scared me!”

Ben falters for a moment, nearly letting a grimace loose at the nauseating feeling of disgust permeating him from this, from having to be so close and sweet to her after she violated his mind, his free will. And she did it on purpose. 

“Uh,” he starts, trying with everything he’s got to sound so light and casual, like she made him sound before. “You… you can’t swim?” 

It’s really not that important to either of them right now, but it’s the first thing he can think of that doesn’t start with why the hell or how the hell or jail. 

“No!” She yells indignantly, like it should be obvious. 

“But you live on an island.” He notes. He never would have been able to challenge her under the curse she cast on him, not even something as small as asking why she can’t swim. He watches her expression closely, wondering if she’ll notice.

“Yeah, with a magic barrier around it, remember?” She demands incredulously. There’s a shrill tone to her voice with a venomous sting, like Ben was the one who cast her out and put up the barrier himself. He flinches at the sound of her voice.

She can’t swim. She nearly drowned looking for him, and he let himself consider allowing it to happen. A stab of unwelcome but justified guilt catches him off guard for a moment, causing him to falter. 

“And… you still tried to save me.” He murmurs solemnly, mostly to himself. 

He hates this. He hates that she did something so horrible and so kind to him right after each other. It’s tempting to dismiss her searching for him in the lake, to let himself focus only on the pain and damage she’s caused in such a short time, and he tries desperately to cling to his moral values. Values that he’s always sworn to himself he will never abandon, no matter how hard or complicated things get.

Now here he stands, looking hard and complicated square in the purple framed face. 

People are nuanced, he tells himself, trying to remember it. Nobody is all good or all bad. People… people are complicated. It’s a hard philosophy to hold onto, and an even harder one when you’re the one that’s been made a fool of, made to dance around in public and cater to her every whim. It’s hard to remember that people are nuanced, not all bad when you’ve been made into someone’s bitch. 

“Yeah, and do you thank me?” Mal demands rhetorically, “No!”

He struggles to follow her. Her voice makes him flinch, buzzing around his head like an angry hornets nest. It makes his ears ring. He feels that strange, painful headache stirring up again - the one that got worse and worse every time she forced her voice into his mind. 

“All I get is soaking wet!” 

She looks at him expectantly, then huffs. It sounds exactly like the noise Audrey would make when she wanted something that wasn’t handed to her instantly. A new wave of indignant rage begins to bubble and boil up inside him as he realizes what she wants. She wants him to grovel. She wants him to apologize, and kiss her hands, and beg for everything to be smoothed right over. He swallows hard, managing to contain it. Just barely.

In a split second, he realizes he has to do something. The more time they spend together, the sooner Mal will realize she doesn’t have control over him again. If she finds out, that will open up more trouble than Ben would care to count. He has to pacify her, just enough to get them both home as fast as possible. Before she can do anything else to him. 

He reaches into his pocket, handing her the geode. 

“And this, uh… this fancy rock.” 

His stomach twists, spiking with anxiety as he offers it to her. Wishing stones - also called wish geodes - are a natural and common byproduct of fairy magic. They can vary in strength and appearance based on what fairy they came from, and since they usually form underground or by bodies of water, they can be hard to find. They’ve become even harder to source in recent years as less and less people use magic - fairies included. 

The ones near Auradon are from Fairy Godmother’s magic. The ones way up north in Schwartzvald are from the mainland forest fairies deep in the Fantasia Woods, the ones out west are from the Blue Fairy, and any wish geode you find on the northeastern coast will always be from Flora, Fauna, or Merriweather. Since wish geodes are essentially nature’s way of recycling magic leftovers, they’re usually not too strong. Unless they were charged up with something, like a blessing, or a falling star, or enchanted spring water from Olympus. 

Ben, however, is painfully unaware of this. He hasn’t studied magic and magic theory as extensively as you have. He suspects sometimes that you may know more about magic than the good fairy herself. He does know some introductory magic theory, and a few little facts from you that he’s remembered over the years. 

What he does know is that wishes and hypnosis or mind control or whatever the hell Mal did to him are two completely different kinds of magic. He knows that if he gives Mal the stone, even if she did wish for something, it couldn’t possibly do more damage than she’s already done. At this point, it’s the lesser of two evils. Really, it’s the only viable option he’s got. The geode shimmers and glitters, glowing softly against her skin in a luminous pearly hue. She glares up at him, and he plasters on a smile. Hopefully, a convincing one. He gestures back behind him. 

“Make a wish, and throw it back in the lake.”

Unless her goal of hypnotizing him was to somehow end up with a good grade on the next test, or a really good hair day, this rock will do nothing for her. It’s just not strong enough on its own, which makes it the perfect placebo. Mal scowles up at him, and winds up to throw the rock bitterly into the lake. 

In that moment, her heart’s unsung desires cry out desperately, begging for something that not even her mind can grasp. I wish what he said was true, her heart cries, that he doesn’t think I’m evil. I wish Ben would keep being nice to me, even after I break the spell. I wish Ben would defend me from all the people who act like they’re afraid of me, I wish he would make me feel like I belong here!

The rock sinks into the water, bubbling and glowing as her desires are realized. A soft whispered voice floats into the air, seeming to speak only to her.

“Malorie Valda Faery, Princess of the Moors and Young mistress of Evil… your wish has been heard, and your wish has been granted. So long as you do not act on the evil inside your heart, and stay trustworthy, honest, and kind, he shall see no evil inside you.” 

It’s so faint, so hard to hear that she thinks she must have imagined it. She falters, thrown off guard for a moment, then stands up and shakes off some of the water still clinging to her. The glowing water swirls and pools around Ben. An almost ticklish, tingling feeling floats down onto him. It’s so light and so soft, it’s gone so quickly that he struggles to remember if it really happened.

He takes in a breath, his brow softening as he realizes the panic is retreating. A breeze blows by, carrying the scent of magnolia and the impending night air that quickly makes its way closer to them as the sun sinks. Little goosebumps prickle down Ben’s arms and back as his defenses begin to relax back to normal. He picks up his varsity jacket to wrap around Mal, and grabs a towel for himself. The last thing either of them need right now is to catch a cold. 

He takes a few more breaths as she sits down, mildly puzzled at why it’s so easy to breathe now, but so difficult just a few moments before. He searches every crease and crevice of his mind for what was bothering him before. He doesn’t usually struggle to remember what he was thinking about, but this particular thing just seems to evade him, like a child playing hide and seek. He knows it was important, really important, but he just… can’t remember. He looks down at Mal in hopes of jogging his memory, but seeing her sit there, all sad and wet and swallowed up by his jacket, all he feels is a pang of sympathy. 

He feels himself relaxing, his reflexes softening from a state of panic to their usual level of low, constant background anxiety. Look at her, he thinks, does she really look like she wants to overthrow an entire country? The question is rhetorical, and the answer clear. No. She just wants a home, somewhere to fit in. She looks so small, so vulnerable and powerless like this. He chastises himself for letting himself lose sight of why he brought her and her friends to Auradon in the first place.

She’s here to grow, to heal - they all are. Of course she’s going to make some silly mistakes like spray painting her locker, or cutting class, or using magic to get Ben to go out with her. Besides, with coronation coming up so fast, it makes sense that she would feel like she couldn’t find an opportunity to ask Ben out without a little extra help. That’s all this is, a silly mistake. It’s nothing to be blown out of proportion, really. He sighs, sitting across from her, feeling a dull nudge of something that could grow into fondness with time.

He reaches over to fix her hair, and she looks up at him. She searches his eyes, desperately looking for any signs of hate or change in how he views her. That’s what this is, he confirms to himself. She just has a crush on him is all. He would never say that to anyone, he wouldn’t run the risk of embarrassing someone dealing with such delicate feelings, but it does make sense. She said herself just a while ago, dating on the Isle is more like gang activity than picnics and drive in movies. Of course she wouldn’t know how to talk to someone she likes, how to find ways to spend more time with them. 

Ben almost chuckles at the thought, the idea of her trying to figure out how to enchant her crush into liking her back. It’s sweet, really. Nothing malicious at all. Besides, everybody knows that love magic doesn’t exist, there is no such thing as a love spell. So if she still doesn’t know that yet, could her knowledge of magic really be that dangerous? It can’t possibly be. She just used a harmless little spell to speed things up a little. No one would ever act out like that if it wasn’t for some matter of the heart or other. It’s almost flattering in a strange way.

He decides to test his theory, letting his fingertips linger in her damp, sugar plum hair, twirling it lightly.

“Mal?” He starts, getting her attention. 

“I, uh… I told you that I loved you. At the tourney game.” He says, jogging her memory. He looks at her, studying her face. “What about you?”

This is perfect, he thinks, this is the most opportune way to offer her a way to tell him how she feels, get it all off her chest. 

“Do you love me?” He prompts.

Normally, he would never be this direct with someone. But he feels it’s warranted, given the circumstances. It’s taken many years for him to learn to trust his gut with things like this, and he’s not going to doubt himself now. Yes, what she did was bad - unforgivable, even - but at the end of the day, she’s just a hormonal teenage girl with a crush. She can’t possibly be faulted for that, for having feelings. 

“I…” Mal starts, swallowing thickly and looking away from him again. She clutches the sides of his jacket, pulling it tighter around her. It smells soapy, like it’s too clean. She knows she should probably be feeling something, but she has no goddamn clue what it is - much less how to recognize and articulate it. She feels… queasy. Kind of shaky and sweaty. Are you supposed to feel like that when a boy says I love you? That has to be the feeling that people are always talking about, getting butterflies in your stomach. Mal supposes butterflies just don’t agree with her. 

“I don’t think I know what love feels like.” She replies simply, in a rare and impulsive moment of vulnerability. If she’s ever going to be vulnerable, it will be when she can control how the other person reacts to it. She looks down. Instead of looking at Ben, she traces her eyes over the skirt of the dress Evie put her in. It’s calming, relaxing. There’s the faintest trace of Evie’s perfume, and it makes Mal feel a sense of warmth and longing that she desperately needs right now. 

Ben’s heart squeezes sympathetically. He feels so bad for her. That tragic compassion reassures him that bringing her to Auradon was the right decision, and this whole thing was just a silly miscommunication. A mistake. 

“Maybe I could teach you.” He says softly. He puts his hand on her arm, helping her stand up.

“Come on. Let’s get you home.”

When you show up to the Wonderland Embassy, the home away from home you share with your mother, you look positively and uncharacteristically ragged. It’s merely a pebble’s throw from campus, so it couldn’t have been a particularly tiring walk - unless you walked your way from Camelot, which is highly improbable. Your blackberry bow is loose and slipping off towards your ear, your skirt is all rumpled, and you haven’t even noticed the run in your favorite pair of knee socks. 

Worst of all, worse than your slouching or lethargy or the tear tracks down your cheeks, are your eyes. The vibrancy, the hope and curiosity is all but gone. Your dear mother, Alice - better known as Alice Liddel, Ambassador of Wonderland - notices all of this right away. You answer her usual question, are you ready to embark on your weekly mother daughter dinner, before she can even ask it. 

“I’m afraid I can’t make dinner, mother,” you say, babbling around the tea biscuit you grab from the counter and hold in your mouth, keeping your hands free to drop off the useless information you’ve gathered throughout the day and search for a few books in your mother’s collection. 

“But I promise I’ll get something more than tea and cakes from the school kitchens tonight.” You assure her half heartedly, more worried about her peace of mind than your dietary habits. The moment the words leave your lips, she knows that something is wrong. Not wrong in the sort of way that a leaf floats down a brook, but deeply wrong, like a subaquatic shrub. 

Shrubs are not subaquatic by nature, and if one is found it’s recommended to bring it to the nearest tree surgeon as quickly as possible. She looks at you, her darling daughter, her wonderful little dear, and sees a subaquatic rose garden. You never skip dinners with your mother, not for the tiffletoo flu, or final exams, or anything else regardless of urgency or importance. The only time you’ve skipped dinner in the past was one time, one terrible night where Ben was rushed off the tourney field with a broken wrist and a nasty concussion. 

The standard for skipping dinner and tea with your mother is one that’s very rare and quite  extreme, so you’re not too terribly surprised when she stops you from leaving the Wonderland Embassy with a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

“Nunz yet, my love,” She says softly, soothingly. She fixes your hair in that comforting motherly way of hers, then moves on to fix your bow how you like it. 

“I can’t watch you gyre like an overwrought sulphide marble for a moment longer.” She looks at you softly. “What’s got your mind so snaggled, sweets?”

Your mother, your dear dear mother is your most favorite person in both worlds, right alongside Ben. You’ve always found your inability to lie to her or hide your feelings as a relief, a blessing. Now, however, you find yourself wishing for the first time that you were able to lie to her as easily as Audrey and Lonnie lie to their mothers. Your stomach twists uncomfortably. You don’t like this feeling. You wish it would just go away, but you know you can’t tell your mother everything that’s going on. Not yet, at least. 

She’s so close with Ben’s parents - in both business and personal regards - that if you were to make the wrong move, it could mean a world of nasty repercussions and consequences for Ben. The exact ones you’ve been maddening yourself trying to shield him from. You trust your mother implicitly, but you also know she has a duty - not just as a politician, but as a parent - to inform Ben’s parents imminently of any perils regarding Ben that she is made aware of. 

You sit down, fussing with the pleats of your dress, tugging at your stockings to buy yourself some time, give yourself a moment to carefully choose the most right, non incriminating words you can muster up.

“Ben has been behaving strangely.” You state. Your voice is soft, but not fragile. This worries your mother. If your voice were fragile, you see, it would mean this was all very new and fresh. But the reluctant acceptance in your tone of voice tells her the severity of the situation in which you’ve found both yourself and Ben. Your voice is quiet, your words simple, and a soft hum of understanding leaves your mother’s lips. She nods empathically, silent in the moment that follows so you can continue. 

“And, I… can’t quite seem to figure out the reason why.” You continue, even more quietly - almost shamefully so.

Your mother hums again, this time with a deeper, more resolute understanding of how you’re feeling and why exactly you must be feeling the way that you are. You and Ben have been so terribly close for so awfully long, that if either of you had felt at any point during your numerous years of friendship that you were mildly confused by the behavior or the other - much less left clueless and in the dark, as you currently are - that that in and of itself would be nothing short of anomalous. 

So naturally, when something this catastrophically unusual occurs, it should come as no shock at all how deeply distressing it would be to you. The very worst part, you realize, is that your mother has already come to this conclusion with barely a fraction of the information you have. You shudder to think about how distraught she’d be on your behalf if she knew everything you do about your trouble with Ben’s unusualness as of late.

“Lovey…” Your mother says warmly. She reaches over to you, handing you a warm porcelain teacup and saucer of her ever perfect chamomile tea. It’s sweetened with just the right amount of honey, but not so much as to overpower it - a mistake that you’ve seen many people make quite often - and topped off with just a little bit of shaken cream and rose pollen.

You’re never sure how she manages to make it so perfectly with so little effort every single time, but it must be a mother’s touch, you suppose. A gentle hug and a warm cup of her specialty tea always gets you to open right up to your mother, no matter how mimsy and gallymoggers you may be feeling. 

Your expression drops, and your mother recognizes it instantly as the look of finally allowing yourself to let in the very best of ideas. Your posture straightens imperceptibly, and your mother disguises her proud smile with a sip from her own teacup. She loves seeing you like this, lighting up as your mind is flooded in a flash brainstorm. 

“That’s it…” you mutter again, aloud this time. You stand up, careful not to spill your beverage, and you take a great big sip before setting it down hastily. 

“Thank you,” you sigh gratefully to your mother, giving her a squeeze around the middle, and a honey chamomile kiss to the cheek before you depart. 

“I really must go now,” you say regrettably, but she’s already waving you off with affection. 

“Be safe, dear.” She smiles, then gives you a subtle and humorous look. “And don’t lose your head.”

You let out a laugh from your nose. 

“I think you’ve come close enough for the both of us.”

You exit the Embassy in a rush, determination and your mother’s laughter following in your footsteps. For the first time in days, you know what to do next.

[wonysugar]

hate rodrigo (literally) | aeri uchinaga

a/n: this is not even a fic this is a tiny little one shot that i wrote yesterday night AT LIKE TWO AM due to thoughts we had in a discord server ahem anyways I FELL ASLEEP THO. soo have this now!!

genre : really bad crack smut like i genuinely have no idea how to describe this

word count : like 600 something?

tags : one shot, smut (obvs), crack, ptv mention, falling in reverse mention, olivia Rodrigo mention, mcr mention, taylor swift mention (sorry @pupyuj)

pairing : angsty!giselle x whitegirlmusic!femreader (I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO LABEL THISSFJEKF)

your music taste wasn’t something you particularly shared with people, but you didn’t hide it, either. to you, it was music, nothing more, nothing less.

however, one of your friends, aeri, took music very, very seriously, and it really showed. she had a certain aesthetic, she wore certain things and god, did she listen to certain music.

“no like i genuinely can’t grasp the fact that you unironically listen to olivia rodrigo?” she laughed, leaning back on her bed as you stared at her in disbelief.

“god aeri, some of her songs are good, you just haven’t tried them.” you snapped back, wearing a convinced smile as you proceed to jokingly hit her arm.

“okay, sure, whatever. but just imagine getting to know someone, going on dates with them, all the sha-bang. then, when it’s time to get down and freaky, they turn on their sex playlist and motherfucking driver’s license starts playing??”

she was basically cackling at that point and you couldn’t do anything to stop it. defending your cause seemed like it would’ve been difficult, with how far up her own ass she was.

“yeah, because that isn’t a sex song? olivia rodrigo doesn’t make fucking sex music?? try putting a falling in reverse song while you get naked, see how that works out for you.” you fight back.

“oh i don’t know about you, but i’d be soaked for sure. plus, anything would be better than hearing young adult women sing about their previous relationship like it was a war they fought in.” she kid, crossing her arms in victory, as if she even won the argument in the first place.

“i’m gonna make you swallow those words right back up, uchinaga.”

“try me, l/n.”

-

“f-fuck y/n, go- mmh- slower..”

so, it wasn’t supposed to happen this way!

it originally was just the both of you, taking turns and putting different songs on the bluetooth speaker and rating them based on ‘how wet it got you’.

turns out, while that was a theory stage, there seemed to be a practice one too, and you’ve been in it for the past 10 minutes now.

thrusting your fake cock in and out of her, paying no mind to the very loud, very obnoxious pierce the veil song that was playing in the background, you pinned her hands above her head. your pace increased with time, and the decibels of her voice increased with the pace.

“oh my god y/n pleasepleasepleasepleasee i’m s-so sorry i- fuck me- i didn’t mean-“ she cried, poor thing probably didn’t even realize that her black eyeliner was running all over her cheeks. her arms and legs wrapped around you,

“shut your fucking mouth and take it, you emo fucking cumslut.” you slammed your strap into her as she yelled out your name. while she was pleading and begging for something, you were on top of her perfect laying-in-mcr-bedsheets body.

she, herself, wasn’t aware of what she was begging for, her mind was completely blank. all she could think about was how good her pussy felt when you pounded it so violently, when you were being so aggressive with her that you just used her body however you wanted.

you thought that whole thing would be a one-time occurrence, but no, it happened a second time, when she said that taylor swift had mid music. was she doing it on purpose or something?

anyways,

yes, you fucked her with the 1989 album playing.

[ibroughtumybulletz]

MCR’s Ski Masks at the NME awards explained:

(credit for the gif: @rubbish78 )

A Master Post Because I couldn’t find one! Lmk if I missed anything :)

.

.

So way back in 2010, the British magazine NME (New Music Express) published a multi-page spread about the band. In that article, “journalist” Luke Lewis wrote:

Both men are rail-thin something Way attributes to not eating, rather than exercise, which he hates. For the new albume he wanted to look staving and on-the-run, though he actually looks healthy, certainly in comparison with his Xanax and cocaine days pre-Black Parade, when he ballooned to 200 pounds and got so blitzed his trousers fell down onstage. Back then, unkind souls dubbed him the emo Meat Loaf, such was his shambolic demeanour. Now he looks more like Christina Ricci. In the background lurks guitarist Ray Toro the archetypal heavy metal nerd, with corkscrew hair and a wheedling voice. He doesnt look starving and on-the-run: when he takes off his Randy Rhodes, I notice doughy love handles spilling over his belt.

(Here’s a link to the scanned article)

Ray responded on his Twitter:

MCR was set to preform at the NME music awards a few months later, in February of 2011. At that show, they preformed in ski masks.

(credit for the gif: @rubbish78 )

When Frank and Gerard were asked about why they did so, in an interview, Frank explained:

“[it’s] about the music, not the messengers, you know?”

(at about 3:20)

My Chemical Romance received the award for “Best Music Video” that night, and when present with the award Gerard said this in his speech:

“Don’t ever let the media tell you what your body is supposed to look like. You’re beautiful the way you are. Stay beautiful[…]”

(at about 8:30)

[haunted-headset]

Ok so hear me out

Wilbur and Y/n arguing.

Then y/n wanted to k!ll herself but..

Guess what Wilbur did...

He moved the knife away and kisses her...

💔 There’s a Reason London Puts Barriers on the Tube Line 💔

Summary: You & Wilbur have a massive argument & all of your su!c!dal thoughts came back, so you ran to Jubilee Line to do your deed. What you forgot is that Wilbur can track your phone.

A/N: Hello! Tysm for the ask! I changed the story up a bit so that the reader doesn't use a knife since knives kinda trigger me :/

word count: 796

proofread: nope

tags: @vibestillaxxx@joviepog@ax-y10@themonsterunderurmom @wilburstan@smolsleepykitten@funnyreally2009@crows-death@dykepunz@aresriiots@0miamor0 @cathers-world@defonotval@chipch0p@mazzistar16@unmellowyellowfellow@justalittlebitofchaos@thosecolorfulsheets@vopix@taylors-version-from-the-vault@aine-lasagna@merianakross@veeislost@urfav-sapphic-siren@shazbaz58-blog @wifiatthetrainstation@mcr-pr-fob@shd454@universe-friday@rqvii@idioticion@m0thza (let me know if u don't or do wanna be tagged!!)

warnings/cw: the reader has su!c!dal thoughts, two attempted su!c!des, mentions of an overdose, arguing/yelling, swearing

This was the worst argument you'd ever had with him in your three years of dating him, & it made your head hurt & your chest feel tight. You had attempted to kill yourself two days ago by overdosing on your anti-depressants.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Wilbur shouted. "Are you fucking stupid, Y/N?! You could've seriously hurt yourself!"

"That's the point!" You shouted back. "That's why I did it! & I already told you I didn’t want to talk about it, yet you kept insisting!"

“That’s because I fucking care about you!” Wilbur yelled. His fists were balled & his eyes, like yours, were bloodshot.

"Well, did I ask for you to care about me?” you cried.

He let out a loud groan of anger & pinched the bridge of his nose. "God, I fucking hate you."

Your eyes widened in shock. He'd gotten angry at you before, of course, but he'd never said that he hated you before. "You don’t mean that," you murmured as more tears rolled down your damp cheeks.

"Right now, I do," he said icily. "More than anything in the world.”

You glared at him. "More than the I love yous?”

His eyes met yours & his expression softened slightly. “…You’re being unfair."

"How the hell am I being unfair?!" you exclaimed. "You're being the unfair & shitty one here! Instead of asking me if I'm alright, you just--you just get mad at me! & when I say I don't want to talk, you keep pressing & pressing & pressing!"

"It's not my fault nor my problem that you're a depressed bitch who doesn't do anything to try & improve their mental state!" he yelled.

With burning tears in your eyes, you started to tie your shoes. Wilbur sighed & said, "No, please don't leave, I-"

"Just shut up," you snapped before you walked out, slamming the door behind you. You started to walk through the rain to Jubilee Line, which would take about forty minutes. You stepped in a few puddles on your way, which drenched your shoes & legs, & you forgot to grab a hoodie, so your entire body was soaked in rainwater.

When you finally arrived, tears rolled down your cheeks & mixed with raindrops as you remembered the song that Wilbur had written a year or two ago. He was rambling on & on about how crappy the mental health was in London & how the city was doing nothing to help their citizens, & how he'd see people kill themselves on Jubilee Line & nobody would say anything or try to stop them, & instead of trying to help the people by improving their mental health services, the city just built barriers on the tube, & the barriers didn't really do anything. & you told him that he should write a song about that. Within an hour, he'd written a song about it, & for the majority of that hour, he would tell you how much he loved you & how creative you were.

You walked up to the barriers & saw that the next train was arriving in five minutes. You kicked with all of your might on the glass until the glass broke. You smiled sadly. The barriers, like Wilbur had said, were shit.

You took a deep breath & held back your tears. You took a step forward.

You were about to fall onto the tracks.

This was it.

It would finally work.

You heard a familiar voice scream your name from behind you.

& then somebody pulled you back & hugged you. It was a sobbing Wilbur.

"L-love, I don't ever want you to die, please...don't die..." he said between his sobs. "I-I'm sorry for yelling, I'm sorry for hurting you, I didn't mean it, I didn't mean a fucking word, I don't hate you, I never would, darling..."

You pressed your face into his chest & sobbed with him as you both murmured apologies to each other. He pulled you away from his chest only to pepper kisses all over your wet face.

"Please, don't go...I just need to feel your arms around me, mon amour, that's all I've ever wanted," he cried. "I don't want to lose you."

"I'm sorry," you whimpered. "I'm sorry for-"

He cut you off with a kiss. When he pulled away, he cupped your face & said, "You have nothing to be sorry for, Y/N. You're the one who's struggling & I didn't even think about that, & I was such a dickhead to you."

"So you don't hate me?" you said with a sniffle as he wiped your cheeks.

"I would never hate you," he whispered. "C'mon, let's go home. I think there's a lot that we need to talk about."

[souryogurt64]

srry if the answer to this is just like "the fobbi hates women and anything remotely negative abt pete" but why do u think they took down the secondhand copies of Gray and the cover on amazon and sources u used after your essay? ur essay was so flattering to gray? its just so weird sorry im not good at critical thinking ngl

I DONT KNOW that’s why it’s so weird!!! It was such a weird and extreme and offputting thing to do. I cant even think of any specific thing I said that could trigger that reaction because it is SO bizarre. If I had to guess it would be because the subject matter is so terrible, even in ways I dont address in my essay, and I make a very compelling case it is fact based. Or just the emotional reaction to it was very visceral.

Also, its not just that the cover art and secondhand copies randomly disappeared right after my essay so I assume it must be because of me. There is other strong circumstantial evidence to indicate the stuff with the book occurred that I would prefer not to talk about.

Given the extremity of this incident, and how outrageous it is to remove the cover art and secondhand copies, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to suggest that other sources linked in my essays that got taken down around the same time were related to this. It’s not just that the occasional article or YouTube video disappears. It was a ton of stuff along with other bizarre and inexplicable coincidences in a short window of time.

Like yeah, some videos got taken down like the only interview where he talks about his book. But it was stuff way more involved than that too. Like someone filled out a 2 page form on the Vimeo website with a name address and phone number claiming they were the direct copyright holder to get a fancam of Goodnight Moon I made in 11th grade taken down after I linked to my Vimeo account in the bibliography of a video essay.

Someone in Chicago who did not frequently visit my blog with that device spent 3 days going through 1,270+ pages of my blog searching dozens of term combinations looking to see if I’ve ever posted about Pete’s mother. In addition to the suspect location, this is a massive anomaly both in terms of activity on my blog, as well as stuff the fandom cares about.

Brendon Urie’s dumb lawsuit was taken out of the LA court portal after I referenced it in my Brent Wilson essay. An article about Kenny Harris’ sexual misconduct allegations was removed after that essay too. Several different copies of screenshots of Tweets from Ian and Breezy complaining about Brendon were taken down after the publication of that essay. After Pete’s friend posted another essay I wrote on his Instagram story, scans I linked in it disappeared and the band started selling an edited copy with that quote removed a few months later. Etc. The MTV website was extremely broken so it’s possible these were coincidental, but a number of suspicious articles and videos were regularly disappearing too.

ALSO. I wrote a 50 page essay about SWMRS/Burger that was extremely negative towards many bands and reached way higher visibility, and absolutely nothing happened with that and no sources were taken down. Same with a 20 page MCR lyrical analysis essay. If these things happened randomly all the time, it would’ve happened with the sources linked in those essays too.

All of these things, in combination with the strong circumstantial evidence surrounding his book getting half-pulled off the market after of my essay, were not all a string of random unrelated coincidences and I secretly have undiagnosed schizophrenia or whatever.

When you consider the *objective facts* of this situation, such as Pete’s friend posting about my essay on social media around the time this stuff occurred, it is way more likely the essays made it onto his radar and like The FOB Surveillance State (jk) did not approve or whatever. Some of these things may be coincidences, but taking all of the evidence into account, it becomes unlikely that this is all random and I’m crazy.

Also, it’s not like him finding these just randomly happened. I made it happen. It’s really embarrassing to say this, it feels very childish now, and IDK what the point of this was, but starting when I was a literal teenager I put a lot of work and made a lot of purposeful decisions over a period of years to get the bandom essays noticed. This included interviewing several artists he and his friends signed or followed on social media, putting several people who are not famous in the essays, fostering cats for his friend and applying to work there, et cetera. All of this was genuine, but it was also intentional.

Other people (such as UNEMPLOYED Brand New fans) have been able to do the same thing and leverage amateur projects like this to interview the band or write a book or whatever.

And like whatever, if I’m a shitty talentless writer and am just not picked that’s fine. But also like, I don’t want to continue liking these bands when I have plenty of reason to believe their management or whatever are going through my essays to take down sources and also try to “takesies backsies” Pete’s stupid book about calling his ex a bitch and degrading all the women he’s slept with because of my very positive and respectful fanwork about it.

Especially when they’re also handing out book deals and interviews like candy to untalented unemployed dudes with insane passion projects that “just so happen” to talk about how Brand New are victims of cancel culture and Hayley Williams is a misandrist bitch and Pete Wentz threw the first brick at feminist Stonewall. Like it’s just not something that makes me happy anymore and I’m embarrassed and disgusted I ever thought it was cool.

TRIPLE ESPECIALLY when they are also aggressively pushing gross creepy daddy kink music and claiming it’s because they support women’s free speech. And going through Twitter indirects to call anyone who has a problem with it sexist because you should “let women say what they want.” But not me clearly!!! Not female fans who engage intelligently with the culture and history. Thats for the grown-up anti-cancel-culture dudes only. The only free speech for female fans is “daddy spit on my pussy!!”

Also everyone wants to like Destroy Me With Facts And Logic or whatever and tell me it’s okay and not wrong and I’m being irrational and crazy and argue if it is Morally Acceptable for an artist to do this. but like. If you were in my position. Even everything else aside, just the position of putting so much effort and care into a very positive and respectful fanwork and then you have reason to believe the creator somehow found your essay and attempted to remove the book from circulation afterwards. Like would you want to keep being a fan? Do you think they want you to be a fan? NO!!

Then if you tried to be like “Hey it really bothered me on a personal level I think this happened” and their insane fans started camping out in your inbox calling you “schizophrenic” “a bitch” “racist” “delusional” etc over it for months. Would you keep enjoying the band. NO!! Probably not. Especially when the band’s entourage encourages this type of behavior by putting individual fans who talk about misogyny on blast so they will get cyberbullied.

Like this entire thing started because I made a joke text post about “Dictator Wentz” 3 months ago and a specific clique of deranged FOB fans (coincidentally, right around when the bands entourage started encouraging fans to cyberbully people who discuss their history of misogyny) started camping out on my blog to complain and call me a pathetic schizo bitch every time I posted about ANYTHING. Like it’s really really embarrassing to live life knowing that PW reacted so badly to my essay specifically.

I didnt talk about how I felt or what I suspected happened for a long time because I was scared of someone specific seeing it or other fans getting mad and calling me crazy (WHICH HAPPENED). But like I dont like pretending either and these feelings didnt go away and eventually when the band stopped being as active I felt ready to post about it.

And I cant even joke harmlessly about it without gaggles of his weird fans being like “Ummmm you’re a bitch and targeting the only POC in music…. unless you have schizophrenia that seems sus!!!” like WHAT???? does that have to do with anything I said. And also literally WHOOOO CARES. Anyway I am trying to move on with my life now

[newtthetranswriter]

He Would Want You To Be Happy

(Art by me, it is also being posted to day over on my main blog)

Summary: Nacht was never a fan of his birthday for obvious reasons. Asta wants to celebrate it and after Yami foils Y/n’s plan to keep it a secret, Y/n needs to comfort and talk some sense into the Shadow mage.

Word count: 4314

Paring: Nacht Faust x Gn! Reader

Warnings: Talk about Morgen's death and Nacht’s self deprecation, talk of smoking and cigarettes, possibly ooc Nacht, possibly grammar or spelling mistakes

A/n: just wanted to say Happy Birthday to Nacht, the moody mage who would love MCR if he ever listened to it. Any way If you couldn’t tell this is just something i wrote for Nacht from Black Clovers Birthday. It’s a little angsty and a little fluffy, but I hope y’all enjoy. Anyways, have a great day and Remember to hydrate or diedrate. (we wouldn’t want y’all ending up like Morgen now would we.)

    I’ve known for a long time that Nacht hates his birthday, and like every year before now I was planning to ignore it like I agreed when I first heard his reason for not liking it. Sadly it seemed that not all of the Bulls were aware of Nacht’s past and well Asta being Asta, started pestering me about when the Vice Captain’s birthday was. I had tried to just focus on going on missions and ignoring the young man, but damn is he persistent. His pestering lasted from the moment I left mine and Nacht’s room in the morning to when I went back to bed, of course he wouldn’t pester me when the Shadow mage was around but it was near non-stop.

    All of this led to now. It’s two days before Nacht’s birthday, and all I wanted was for Asta to get hung up on something else. I was sitting in the dining hall just enjoying my breakfast with the rest of the squad, minus Nacht as he was off doing who knows what, when Asta rushed into the room. Trying to hide my groan, I tried to focus on my food.

    “Oh, Y/n you’re still here. Now, please tell me?” He said vaguely, knowing I already knew what he was asking of me. His vague question caught the interest of everyone else in the room. The whole squad quickly turned to look at me, curious to what the magicless boy wanted.

    I sighed before responding as quickly and with as little information as possible. “Asta, I’ve told you a thousand times already, it’s not happening.” Ignoring the looks of my squadmates I continued eating.

    I felt as Asta moved closer to where I sat, clearly trying to catch my gaze and attempting to persuade me with puppy dog eyes. “Come on, Y/n. You’re the only person here who would know, please?” Like clockwork, Asta was back to begging. “Ooooo what if I promise to do all your chores for a month?” And now he’s one to poorly thought out bribery.

    Apparently Asta’s poor offer finally piqued Yami’s interest. “Hey kid, you already do all the chores around here. And what are you asking them? From the sounds of it they’ve told you no quite a few times.” Yami spoke, pulling Asta’s attention away from me.

    Like an alarm went off in his empty head, Asta quickly spoke. “I just realized you probably know the answer to my question too.” He quickly moved to be standing next to where Yami sat. The Captain raised his eyebrow as if prompting the boy to go on. “Well I was wondering when is Vice Captain Nacht’s birthday? I’ve been asking Y/n because their his partner and I figured they’d know it but they refuse to tell me anything about it. And just now I remembered that you have known the Vice Captain for a long time.” Asta rambled on.

    Yami let out a laugh before responding. “Nacht’s birthday is April 30th, but why do you want to know?” The Captain answered without even acknowledging my signals to shut up.

    “That’s in two days!! Anyway I wanted to know so we could do something to celebrate his first birthday back in the Clover Kingdom and with the Squad.” Asta explained.

    “I don’t think that’s a great idea Asta. There’s a reason -” I tried to explain before Yami cut me off. 

    “That’s a great idea. Go for it kid.” The Captain encouraged with a laugh as Charmy, Vanessa and Gordon started offering ideas on what the party should be about.

    While the majority of the squad was excited to have a party, whether they cared about the reason or not, I quickly left the table. Hoping to find a way for Nacht to not have to deal with the rambunctious squad on a day he normally likes to be left alone on. Before I could get very far Yami stopped me. “Come on Y/n, you know Nacht needs to loosen up a bit, and a birthday party is perfect.” 

   “You know that’s not what will happen, you also know why I wouldn’t tell Asta in the first place. Now if you’ll excuse me I have things I have to do.” I said in a rather aggressive whisper. It’s true that Nacht could stand to lighten up, but something just feels wrong about all this. Especially Yami encouraging it, he knows what Morgen’s death did to Nacht. Trying not to focus too much on what I was going to do two days from now, I started to get ready for the rest of the day.

   Luckily by the time Nacht returned to the base that night everyone had stopped talking about the surprise party they were planning. Unfortunately, Nacht is a very perspective person and quickly picked up on the fact that something was off. Being the only person he truly trusted, he quickly approached me. “What happened while I was out?” He asked voice never changing from his normal level tone.

   I took a moment to finalize my thoughts on what was being planned by our insane squadmates. “Nothing much, just Luck stole some of Magna’s food again and the resulting ‘fight’ has left everyone tired.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Luck did steal Magna’s food again and the fight lasted most of the afternoon leaving everyone annoyed with the duo. Even though Nacht was well aware of the chaos the two caused, it was clear from the way he squinted his eyes at me that he didn’t fully believe what I was saying. 

  “Okay, let’s head to bed. If everyone is finally this quiet we may actually be able to sleep a decent amount tonight.” I let out a sigh of relief accepting the hand he offered, glad that he wasn’t going to press further on the subject.

Time skip to April 30th

  I had accepted that no matter what I did, Nacht would have to deal with what the rest of the squad had planned. If he gets upset about it then so be it, I tried to prevent it and even warned Yami that it was a bad Idea and he knew it. I just hope Nacht believes that I did in fact try to stop it. Okay and maybe there is a part of me that hopes he is okay with it and actually has a good time.

  Anyway the morning was the same as always, except for Yami making Nacht stay at the base because he had a so-called ‘emergency captain’s meeting’ to attend and wanted Nacht to make sure no one blew up the base. With the fact that Nacht was forced to stay back at the base, breakfast was quieter than it normally is. Most of the squad tried to hide their plans for the evening and the others had already left the base to get what supplies they had been trusted to get.

  The rest of the day was pretty much the same, everyone quietly trying to bring in food or decorations for the planned party without disturbing the Vice Captain. Which was admittedly harder said than done as Nacht decided he was going to sit in the living room of the base reading and occasionally chatting with Gimodelo. You might also be wondering what I was doing during this time, and well the answer is simple. I’ve been trying to make sure neither Nacht or his Devil actually figure out what's happening before everything is ready, while also trying to act normal.

   Turns out I’m not the best actor, as just after Vanessa walked through with yet another crate of booze, Nacht decided to speak up. “I know what you’re doing and I’m not participating in any of it.” I just looked at him shocked. “Don’t try and hide it. I sent Plumede to check on things here the other day while I was out and they informed me that the others plan on throwing a party.” He explained, voice never changing from its normal tone. 

   I took a moment to think of how to respond, finally deciding to stick with my original plan for when he found out. “I tried to tell them it was a bad idea, but you know how Yami is. He likes to mess with you and I bet him encouraging Asta and the rest to go through with a big party is just another one of his plans to get under your skin.” I started to explain, expecting a sigh or comment about how much he dislikes Yami, but when I looked back at him, he was frozen. His face mostly still showed no emotion but his eyes were slightly wide, like he just remembered something important. “Nacht? Are you okay? I am truly sorry I know how difficult today can be for you. I really did try to keep Asta from finding out but again Yami likes to cause trouble and he wouldn’t listen to me.”

  It was silent for a few moments before Nacht stood up and turned towards the door. However before he could reach it, Asta busted through the door. “Oh, Vice Captain, I was just coming to get you. I also wanted to say Happy birthday.” Asta spoke, not receiving any response from the quiet mage, who just kept walking to the door. “Uh Y/n, is everything okay with the Vice captain?” Asta asked as he watched Nacht leave, not even bothering to acknowledge his squadmates trying to get his attention.

  “No Asta, nothings okay. This is why I didn’t want to tell you his birthday.” I said quickly before going after Nacht. “Nacht wait a second please. Talk to me.” I called after the tall man, unfortunately it seemed he was unreachable at the moment. As I finally made it out of the hideout about to reach out for him, Nacht used his magic to slip into the shadows and disappear. Dropping my extended arm, I stayed in my spot for a moment just staring at the shadow my boyfriend had used as an escape route.

  My thoughts were interrupted by the rest of the squad coming to find out where Nacht had run off too. “Is everything alright? The Vice captain looked upset.” It was Finral who spoke first. His question was followed by a chorus of ‘is he okay?’s and ‘what happened?’s .

  I sighed before deciding it was probably best to just explain what I know. “First, I don’t know if everything is alright, I’ve never seen Nacht like that. Second, what happened was Asta pushing to find out Nacht’s birthday after being told to drop it multiple times.” My voice was a bit harsher than intended but I was worried that Nacht wasn’t going to come back.

  When I turned to the group I could tell everyone was confused, well almost everyone. Noelle on the other hand decided to voice her thoughts on the matter. “So, what you’re saying is that Nacht stormed off because Asta found out about his birthday? That’s just dumb, what’s the big deal? People who care about him want to celebrate him so he should be happy.” While her statement was harsh it was reasonable.

  “It’s not the fact that people want to celebrate his birthday. It’s the fact that it’s his birthday.” I started to explain. “He’s never liked his birthday, when he was younger it was because he would constantly be compared to his younger twin. But around two years before I met him, his brother died and now his birthday just serves as a reminder of what he lost. When we met and I asked about his birthday, he made it clear that he doesn’t celebrate it or want to acknowledge it in any way. I agreed and that’s why I didn't want to tell Asta, I didn’t want him to make a big show and upset Nacht. But fucking Yami had to open his dumb mouth and try and cause trouble.” I rambled out, trying to explain why Nacht was upset.

  I watched as most of the squad nodded in understanding, with a few mumbles of ‘sorry’s. Once again Noelle decided to speak up more than the rest. “Okay he lost his brother, but wouldn’t his brother want him to be happy with friends instead of alone brooding somewhere?” Again valid point.

  Sighing, I responded to the royal. “While I agree with you on that, Nacht has never been the kind to think like that. He’s pessimistic, and it’s hard to get through to him on things like this. Anyway, you all enjoy the food and stuff you prepared. I'm going to wait for Nacht to get back.” WIth that I headed inside, leaving the rest of the Bulls outside with the barbeques they had set up in front of the base.

  At around 8pm, the doors to the base opened. Hearing the creak I sat up straight hoping it was Nacht, but unfortunately I was greeted by the distinct mana of Yami. I groaned before going back to waiting in silence. Sadly Yami had other plans. “You know you should go talk to him.”He said, voice gruff as always but with a hint of concern for his old friend.

  “Why do you care? You’re the one who told everyone his birthday and said he just needs to loosen up.” I said, giving him a glare before looking back to where my hands rested in my lap. “Besides, where would I even look for him?” I said quietly.

   I heard Yami huff as he sat next to me on the couch. “I’d bet he’s probably in the same place I found him on the first birthday after Morgen’s death.” I turned slightly, raising a brow at him. “I’m trying to say he went to sit and wallow at Morgen’s grave. It’s where I found him multiple times before he met you.” Yami explained. “Also, the idiots told me what you said about me wanting to cause trouble for Nacht, and while it’s not entirely a lie, I just wanted Nacht to realize he can finally be happy.” With that Yami stood up leaving me to think on what he said.

  Deciding that both Yami and Noelle had a point. Nacht does need to realize that it’s okay to be happy and enjoy his birthday with the people who care about him. After thinking about what I was going to say, I left to go get my boyfriend and hopefully talk some sense into him.

  I had visited Morgen’s grave before so I knew exactly where to go, and after my conversation with Yami it was no surprise to see the cloaked figure sitting near the headstone. What was a surprise though was the distinct smell of cigarettes wafting from the shadow mage. Before I could say anything I heard the sound of Gimodelo talking, and decided to listen for a moment.

  “Mister Nacht, why are you out here alone? Y/n is probably worried after you left without a word.” The small imp said to his friend. While Gimodelo doesn't like most people other than Nacht himself, he’s always been kind to me so it was no surprise he was worried about my feelings on the situation. “Also when did you start smoking again? Y/n won’t like that.”

  “Be quite Gimodelo, Y/n won’t mind because Y/n won’t know. Now buzz off.” With the command to buzz off the imp disappeared. I should have been upset by the wording but all I could focus on was how broken his voice sounded.

  Deciding Nacht had enough time to brood alone, I moved to stand next to his sitting form. “You know, if you really are smoking again you’re going to start smelling like Yami and neither of us want that.” I said hoping to lighten his mood even if only a little bit.

  Instead of responding Nacht just kept staring at the headstone in front of him. “Nacht, It’s okay to be sad and miss Morgen. But you can’t just storm off because your friends want to celebrate your birthday.” I started. “I’m sorry they found out about it, but after talking with everyone I realized something and you need to realize it too. Morgen would want you to be happy and have fun, not spend your birthday alone and upset.” As I spoke I lowered myself to the ground, quickly grabbing the pack of cigarettes from the ground beside him and stuffing it in my pocket so he couldn’t light another.

  I had expected him to say something along the lines of being fine with ignoring his birthday, but what he actually said surprised me. “I forgot it was my birthday.” Hearing that I looked at him confused. “I spent so long in the Spade Kingdom focused on stopping the Dark Triad that I never noticed my birthday had passed. When I figured out everyone was setting up for a party, I thought it was one of Yami’s usual plans to make me bond with the group, but then you mentioned it being for my birthday and it all rushed back.” It was no secret that Nacht spent years trying to help the neighboring country but I had no idea he was focused enough to forget his least favorite day of the year. 

  “I trust that you tried to keep Asta from finding out and that it was Yami’s doing, so don’t think I’m upset with you. I’m more upset with myself. It’s my fault Morgen had so many birthdays ripped from him. It should have been me, I should be the one buried under this stone, not him.” Nacht had voiced how much he blames himself for Morgen’s death many times before, and each time it was the same. “Morgen would be so much better at this and he would have been better for you.” Okay, blaming himself and wishing he was dead is nothing new, but suggesting Morgen to be a better choice for me is completely different from past conversations on the topic.

  Before Nacht could continue, I decided I had enough. “Nacht Faust, I have heard all of this from you before, and each time I’ve told you the same thing. It’s not your fault your family led you down a questionable path, and it’s not your fault Morgen stepped in to stop you. Suggesting Morgen would have handled your death better than you are handling his a decade later is bullshit. I may not have met Morgen but if he was as caring and kind as you and Yami have told me, he would probably be doing exactly what you’re doing right now. And as for saying he would be better for me, that’s a lie. I fell in love with you. I love how you’re blunt and don’t let others' emotions affect you, I love how even though you act like you hate the Black Bulls, you still stick with us. I love how you put your own life on pause to prevent Psychopaths in another country from destroying the world. I love you for you, so stop putting yourself down over something that happened in the past and think about all the good you have done since then.” I rambled on, hoping to get my point across.

  “Like I said before, you have people here now who care about you and want to take the day to celebrate you. You should be happy and having fun. Again I may not have known him but Morgen loved you enough not to tell the rest of the Magic Knights at the time about your devils and instead risked his life to save yours. Morgen would have wanted you to enjoy each day and I bet he would have been overjoyed to hear you found people who love and accept you.” I finished leaning my head on his shoulder. The whole time I spoke to him, his eyes were set on the gravestone in front of him, but it was clear from the way his shoulders relaxed and the sigh he let out that he listened and understood.

  We sat like that for a while, just sitting in silence thinking. It was Nacht who broke the silence first. “Thank you. I know I can be difficult to deal with. And I’m sorry for just walking out and not talking to you. Also you’re right, Morgen would have been overjoyed that I found you, and the Bulls even if I hate to admit it.” It was strange hearing him admit that he found some where he belonged, but I couldn’t hold back the smile.

   “Okay so now that you’re done wallowing, how about we head back to the hideout and hope that Charmy and Asta haven’t eaten all the food.” I said, raising my head looking at him. He turned and gave a gentle smile with a nod. “Good let’s go. Also be ready to come back here with me tomorrow.” I informed him as we stood up, earning a confused look from the shadow mage. “Every year on May 1st I bring Morgen flowers for his birthday.” I explained watching as Nacht’s face went from confusion to shock to thankfulness.

   “Thank you.” Was all he said before taking my hand, and activating his magic to transport us back to base.

   When we arrived it was clear the rest of the Bulls were still enjoying the food and free time Yami had given them for the evening. Our arrival didn’t go unnoticed, because as soon as we emerged from the shadows Asta basically bounced over to us. “Vice Captain Nacht, I’m sorry I upset you and didn’t listen to Y/n when they told me no.” Asta apologized quickly.

   Before Asta could start rambling too much, Nacht silenced him by simply raising his hand at the boy. “It’s okay Asta. I just need to come to terms with a few things and Y/n helped me with that. Now if there’s any left I would like to eat and possibly chat with you all.” Nacht explained to the boy, but directed the last sentence to the rest of the Squad who were watching the conversation.

   It was clear everyone was stunned by Nacht saying he would like to actually join them. Unsurprisingly Vanessa was the first of the group to speak up. “Of course Vice Captain, how about you start off with a nice drink?” She said slinging her hand over her shoulder waving a beer in Nacht’s face. Seeing Vanessa offer Nacht a drink everyone else started to approach him. Offering food, asking to talk with him, or in Luck’s case asking to fight him.

  As the night progressed it was nice to watch as Nacht relaxed and actually spent time with the Black Bulls. It was clear that he had finally accepted that this was his family and that they would always have each other's backs.

  “You know I don’t think I’ve seen him smile this much since before I joined the Magic Knights.”It was Yami who walked up beside me.

  I smiled as I reached into my pocket handing him the pack of cigarettes I had taken from Nacht earlier in the night. “Before you ask, no I didn’t buy them for you, our dear self deprecating friend over there had them when I found him. I figured it’s probably best to give them to you so he doesn’t fall all the way back into that habit, and I know you won’t let the money go to waste.” Yami was about to respond when Nacht joined us, wrapping his arm around my waist pulling me to his side. “Nuh uh, I was nice earlier because you were upset but now that you’re functioning like a person again Imma make this clear. One no hugs, cuddles or kisses until you have bathed at least twice to remove the smell of the five cigarettes you smoked from your person. Two If I ever catch you with one again I’ll make sure cigarettes are the thing that kills you, as I’ll stuff the whole pack, wrapper and all down your throat.” I said pushing the mage away, and going to join Vanessa in trying to get Zora and Grey to stop hiding in corners.

  As I walked away from the Captains I could hear Yami cackling as he slapped Nacht in the back. “You messed up buying these, didn’t you buddy?” The Captain of the Black Bulls laugh could be heard for miles as he watched Nacht’s face go from shock at my comment to murderous intent at Yami’s.

  Turning to the boy’s one last time, triggering yet another laughing fit from the dark magic user, I made one final comment. “You also owe Gimodelo an apology for telling him to buzz off.” With that I turned to start dragging a cowering Grey from under one of the tables set up outside.

  By the time everyone called it a night, it was nearly 2am. As me and Nacht got ready to settle in for the night, I couldn’t help but smile, earning a quizzical glance from the mage sitting in front of me. “I’m just glad to see you relax and get along with everyone.” I said, placing a kiss to the top of his head as I helped brush his freshly washed hair. He just gave a quick nod before relaxing into my touch, having long since expressed how he enjoyed when I brushed his hair saying it helped him relax. After finishing with Nacht’s hair, we both moved to lay down. Sharing brief good nights, we both quickly fell asleep, at peace with our minds and looking forward to facing the future with our large chosen family.

[stxrsy]

ZANECHAN/ZANA HEADCANONS!! :3

okok warning this is MY headcanons/opinions 🔥🔥

ZANE:

• lends nana his hoodies sometimes (never gets them back)

• gets really embarrassed when pda (public displays of affection) is shown toward him

• doesnt know how to cook anything other than grilled cheese by himself

• watches my little pony every saturday at exactly 12:30 pm

• has noise cancelling headphones for whenever him and kc go on vacation or out to a concert

• listens to the tangled soundtrack every morning while he gets ready

• tried to dye his hair once in middle school because he thought it’d look cool and immediately hated it

• let nana paint his nails once and ended up liking it so he just kept letting her do it

• major germaphobe

• cleans everything when he’s stressed out

• loves musicals

KAWAII~CHAN/NANA:

• tried to teach zane how to make cupcakes once and he ended up burning the kitchen

• goes to every cosplay convention

• likes bugs (for no reason, she’s just interested in them)

• listens to music that’s the exact opposite of her aesthetic (she listens to msi, mcr, the front bottoms, mccafferty, etc.)

• plays fortnite with zane for some reason

• cries over five nights at freddy’s lore

• steals zane’s clothes literally all the time

• loves learning about science ranging from natural disasters to anatomy to chemistry, etc.

• has a tendency to binge watch shows to like the second or third season before abandoning it entirely

• draws little pictures of her and zane doing something romantic (kissing, hugging, cuddling, etc.) or just being together (he puts them up on the fridge or the bedroom walls)

• loves roller skating and forces zane to go with her to roller rinks

a/n; boom that’s it for now, i don’t know what else to add,, i’ll make other aphmau related stuff because i’m like obsessed again

[signedjehanne]

dear white bandom tumblr, what the hell do you want us to say?

i’m tired. i’m really, really tired. 

look, what do you want us to say at this point? this was supposed to be a safe space, for the freaks and the outcasts, but we’ve long established that it is very much not safe. it’s crystal fucking clear.

and honestly, pretty much every white user on here is actively contributing to the hostility here. whether you like it or not, it’s not good to only reblog empty reassurances of anti-racism that do more service to yourself than to others. it’s not good to see poc on the dash trying to educate the white majority and doing everything possible to educate you, and either A) ignore it, B) like it, but don’t reblog it, because god forbid you sit with your discomfort for more than five seconds, or C) send racist anon hate to the original poster, or try to deflect their points. it’s not good to see something racist and let it slide. let me get this straight: none of these fans of color owe you anything. fans of color don’t owe you the time of day, fans of color don’t owe you education, and fans of color don’t owe you the dignity of a levelheaded reply in response to your racist comments. 

often times, we try to educate because we want this space to change. i mean, i didn’t have to write a five paragraph essay dissecting anti asian racism in mcr’s content. i did it because i was angry, and tired, and frustrated, and wanted the space to change. the same reason that every other ignored dissection and analysis that spent blood, sweat, tears, and emotional labor to make was created. a lot of the time you guys just don’t understand how much effort things like that take. and to be clear, this is not just the usual “oh my post didn’t go viral and i’m not a celebrity i’m so sad,” this is “i poured all of myself into trying to educate people that turned out to never care. i have been blatantly shown that the people around me aren’t interested in changing, no matter how much they claim to be.” 

and like, do you want me and countless other users to go in depth again? do you want us to jump from racist incident to racist incident? to hold your hand through explaining why making art of ray being arrested is bad, why gerard’s fetishization of asian people is bad, why making rising sun art and designs is bad, why reducing all of pete wentz’s work to being about mikey way is bad, why shaming people with non-european features for “not looking emo enough” is bad, why insulting and degrading pete and ray for their natural features is bad, why cropping ray out of tour videos is bad, why calling people slurs in their askboxes is bad? (and so much more that i didn’t add.) do you want us to go over the history of racism in alternative spaces as a whole? do you expect us to do all of those things for you on a whim, to make it palatable to you, as if we weren’t real people with real feelings behind the screen and as if we had infinite time and emotional energy? really? when there are many resources already out there, both online and offline? 

what all this tells me is you don’t see us as human. simple as that. you expect us to be able to take the abuse, to be able to silently let your racism pass, and if we ever speak up, you ignore the work we give to you and demand inhuman feats of patience and generosity, answering your every question and responding to your every debate and coddling you as you refuse to sit with the reality of the space you’ve helped to create. and that’s only if you claim to be on our side. 

it’s insane hearing you try to placate yourselves. trying to mindlessly agree without looking inward. i know this sounds harsh, but i know that most of you need to hear it. i just want this space to actually change, like i was begging for back in january and february. of course, i was foolish to believe that it ever would. and i’m foolish now, writing this as if people are ever going to pay attention. even if it does break a few hundred notes, it’s not like the message is going to stick around. sure, you’re “doing the work”, “listening and learning”, but how am i supposed to know that when your responses never change, and this scene stays the same as it ever was?

[misscinnamonroll16]

Brozone Playlist

Now Floyd has a LOT of songs. A lot of them are solely because they're rock and he'd like that (again, personal headcanon). He's also slutty some songs are like that.

Previous Brother Next Brother

Gossip by Maneskin

Anything MCR related

My band by D12

Bleeders by Black veil brides 

I wanna be your slave by Maneskin

Poison by Blake Roman/ Angel dust (he's so angel dust coded)

Nails, Hair, Hips, Heels by Todrick Hall

Psycho Crazy by Halestrom 

Final Girl(too pretty to die) by PI3RCE

FIFTY FIFTY by Cupid

Chop Chop Slide by Insane Clown Posse ( him and Clay have a lot of songs that they unknowingly share)

Cannibal by Nethan Apollo

Fall out boy songs 

Heaven was full (I’m headed straight to hell) by TX2

Everywhere I go by Hollywood Undead

Punk tactics by Joey Valence and Brae

I’m not a Vampire by Falling in reverse

Freak Show by PI3RCE

Wolf in Sheeps Clothing by Set it off

Barbie & Ken by Scene Queen and Set it off

Till Death by PI3RCE 

21st Century Vampire by Huddy

Valentino by Years & Years & MNEK

Take a Hint by Meghan Kabir (this version bc swearing and drinks)

Anything from a musical

Hallowennie IV by Ashnikko

I’ve already said this but Melanie Martinez

Panic at The Disco 

Rebel Girl by Bikini Kill

Slumber Party by Ashnikko

Daisy by Ashnikko

Build a Bitch by Bella Poarch

Billionaire by Bruno Mars and Travie McCoy

Porn Star Dancing by My Darkest Days

Flesh by Simon Curtis 

Pretty Little Psycho by Porcelain Black

My First Kiss by 3OH!3 featuring Ke$ha

Jesus of Suburbia by Green Day 

How to be a heartbreaker by Marina and the Diamonds (ironic name for Floyd to like lol)

You call me a bitch like it’s a bad thing by Halestorm

Telephone by Lady Gaga featuring Beyonce 

Good girls go bad by Cobra Starship

Sarcasm by Get Scared 

Single Ladies by Beyonce 

Barbie girl by Aqua

Big girls don’t cry by Fergie

Secret by The Pierces

Wake Up by Black Veil Brides

Do Not Disturb by Halestorm 

Familiar Taste Of Poison by Halestorm 

Love Bite (so do I) by Halestorm

Fuck you by Lily Allen 

P!nk

I Will Not Bow by Breaking Benjamin

Bring me to life by evanescence 

Diary of Jane by Breaking Benjamin

I hate everything about you by Three days grace

Bad Romance but specifically the punk version

Hollaback Girl by Gwen Stefani 

Don’t stop the music by Rihanna 

Misery Business by Paramore

Everybody talks by Neon Trees 

Bubblegum bitch by Marina and the Diamonds

Sexy, Naughty, Bitchy Me by Tata Young

I’m Not Gay by J Pee (gag song for a different reason)

Everyone is gay by Great Big World

Hello I love you by Adore Delano 

Ur so gay by Katy Perry 

Jar of Hearts by Christina Perri

Ke$ha

Love the way you lie by Eminem featuring Rihanna

Avril Lavigne 

Twenty One Pilots

Little Game by Benny

Squidward’s Nose by Cupcakke 

I’m yer dad by GRLwood

M.I.L.F. MONEY by Fergie

Thot shit by Megan thee Stallion

No by Meghan Trainor

Cinderella’s Dead by EMELINE 

F*ck it All by TX2

Brozone songs

[jayduztumb1r]

˚★⋆｡˚ ⋆

Hiiii I’m Jay :3 and welcome to my bloggg!

Hi :3 I’m Jamie (tho everyone calls me Jay, or any other nickname of the sort) and dis is my tumblr blog! I mainly do art on here or post about cool shit that happens in my life :3

へ ♡ ╱|、

૮ - ՛ ) (` - 7

/ ⁻ ៸| |、⁻〵

乀 (ˍ, ل ل じしˍ,)ノ

My ask box for writing and art commissions is: open!

Some info about Jay!

- my pronouns are He/Him, and I’m a trans mlm guy!

- i make comics for a living (ask me about my comic Hellz Pawn!) , and I’m going to collage to make movies and produce media!

- I have a loving boyfriend, who makes comics with me :) go follow him @they-came-from-jersey

-I LOVE writing and drawing :) send me requests for anything and it’s yours! I’d be happy to create anything for anyone :)

-and lastly, feel free to dm me or send asks my way! I’m always down to clown with anyone B)

Likes:

-Tomura Shigaraki (Mha)

-the Batman (all iterations, but specifically 2022)

-Paul Dano’s “The Riddler” (I love Paul dano..)

-writing, drawing, and talking with new people :)

-MOVIES!! I LOVE watching movies. Send me movie recommendations my way! (My favorite is probably Little Miss Sunshine or Brokeback Mountain)

-MUSIC! My favorite song is Bang The Doldrums by FOB

Some bands I love are:

Mcr

FOB

they might be giants

Korn

Slipknot

Glass Animals

Weird Al

And more!

Dislikes:

-the usual hateful bigotry

-sometimes the ppl on this app ngl :/

-anything Vivziepop related..

-people who think yellow is a good color >:(

Anyway! I’m pretty sure that’s it :3 I’ll update this as things change, but PLEASE don’t be scared to message me, or send in asks! I’d love to draw or talk to ppl <3