#Maybe I want to put this scene at the end of the story

[flawseer]

Hey Flawseer, love your art. I wanted to ask if you have any headcanons for some of the supporting characters who aren't really tied to the school, like Chameleon, Icicle, Hailstorm, etc.

Headcanons for specifically those characters? Hm...

This isn't really a headcanon, more of a "this is implied but not outright stated" kind of thing, but Chameleon's childhood was the stuff of nightmares. He hatched with a physical deformity that prevented him from sleeping more than an hour at a time. Think about what that would be like, to never be able to rest, to be tired and exhausted every day.

Child Chameleon is also an interesting window into the darker aspects of Rainwing society. The books often portray their society as idyllic, something pure and optimistic, something to aspire to. But then they had this kid who was suffering in his body, who didn't develop the expected Rainwing traits properly, and they shunned him. Even sweet, lovable, couldn't-hurt-anyone Jambu calls him weird and off-putting for not being able to change colors. We don't know why Chameleon ended up exiled; maybe it was a malicious act or maybe Chameleon lashed out and had to be removed for being dangerous. But it definitely makes you wonder if there are any other skeletons in the Rainwings' closet.

None of this excuses any of the stunts he pulled later as an adult, especially not the emotional manipulation of his daughter. But thinking about his crappy childhood may help you understand how he ended up the way he did. I hope he can find some help.

Here's a picture of him I drew once. He probably has an official design by now, I don't know.

As for headcanons about Chameleon... I think he eats meat. His biology isn't really wired for it, so it tastes absolutely disgusting to him. But he does it anyway, because while he hates the taste of meat so much, he hates the idea of being a Rainwing several times more. So he puts up with it because he knows it is the least Rainwing-like thing you can do. In a strange way, it helps him cope.

For Icicle, I think it is interesting to note that we technically never see her under normal circumstances. She appears in Jade Mountain in book 6 and certainly leaves an impression, but it's easy to forget that everything she does, she does with the awareness that Scarlet currently has a proverbial knife to her brother's throat. Thus, we never get to see what present day Icicle is like when she is able to relax.

Headcanons... The books aren't clear on how or when Scarlet made first contact with her. It could have been in school, as Moonwatcher overhears. Personally, I think Scarlet actually contacted Icicle months prior to the school opening, and instructed Icicle to insert herself as a sleeper agent. I have trouble believing that immaculate Icicle would WANT to be cooped up underground in a dirty cave with a bunch of strangers several miles from home. I think Scarlet made her do it, and she then begged Queen Glacier to send her there, knowing full well she was gonna hate it. Winter then overheard her begging and begged to come along too.

This lends weight to the scene where Icicle finally breaks down in front of Winter. The part where she's her authentic self for the first time, crying and begging Winter not to let her fall asleep so the woman who has been tormenting her inside her own head for months can't tell her that she failed and that her brother is dead.

In the end, her brother is alive. But in trying to get him free, Icicle ruined her own life.

This one might be controversial, I don't know. While I do think Icicle served in the war, and she did definitely kill Mudwings while doing so, I don't think Icicle is the one who killed Crane. Sora insists it was her, but Umber and Marsh do not recognize her, and Mudwing siblings usually fight together, so they would have both been present during her death too.

I think the story becomes more meaningful if the trauma of war just ruined Sora to such an extent that she sees her sister's killer in every somewhat outspoken female Icewing. Then she ran into the library and confirmation-biased herself into believing her hunch by reading unverified essays on Icewing genetics. You know, the same library whose references on Mudwing physiology consist entirely of The Slug-like Qualities of the Mudwings. If Wisemind penned an examination of Icewing physiology too, one can probably imagine how reliable that one would be.

This kind of turns Sora and Icicle into tragic parallels. They are both children born into a war that took their innocence from them, and in the end it ruined them both.

For Hailstorm, I believe after the battle of Jade Mountain ended and Winter got banished, Hailstorm went back to the Ice Kingdom and lived with his mother Tundra for a while. Tundra took the death of her mate very badly and became embittered. She blamed everything bad that happened to their family on Winter, insisted that Winter caused the family to rot. Winter killed the Queen, Winter killed Narwhal, Winter, Winter, Winter, she should have smashed his egg when she had the chance. Hailstorm tried to get her out of the house, to stop talking and thinking about Winter, but nothing worked. She just had her mind set on hating this kid she'd been abusing since his hatching, insisting she gave him the world and he was ungrateful.

Eventually, Hailstorm just couldn't take this constant bleakness and hatred anymore. A few months ago Icewing tradition almost made him kill his little brother and he is just done with the Ice Kingdom. Completely disillusioned. Leave it all behind.

So he goes to Winter, and he starts to ask odd questions, like "If you had never found a way to turn me back from being Pyrite, would you still have loved me", and "If I was a Skywing, would you disown me?" Winter assures him that he will always love him, but starts to get worried about the questions.

Eventually, Hailstorm just flat-out states that he was actually kind of happy with himself as a female Skywing, not having to think about their messed up family and the stupid rankings all the time. He kept thinking about it through their mother's ramblings, how he felt in that body. He's figured out that he wants to go back to being Pyrite, just obviously without the brainwash-y parts. Winter doesn't entirely understand, but wants his brother/sister to be happy, and gives him/her his blessing.

And I guess there you have it. Some of my headcanons. Chameleon the meat eater, the absolute train-wreck that is Icicle's life with a side of Sora, and Hailstorm finds self-affirmation in exploring their gender identity after cutting their toxic mom out of their life.

[runningincircl3s]

Nothing Ever After

Noah Sebastian x Reader x Vinny Mauro

The End- Part Two

chapter warning: get the tissues x masterlist

we're finally here. it's the end! i feel like a proud parent and this is my child... but happy valentines day guys!! i spent most of the day adding the finishing touches to this and even though i'm still not completely happy with it i want to post it anyway!! i've also been getting really invested in the next thing i'm working on... which will be revealed on monday :) also for the final chapter i thought i'd share my playlist that i'd have on whilst writing

← Post •••

@/MotionlessInWhiteTea:

Why I think Y/n Y/l/n shouldn’t be working in the scene, a thread

Disclaimer: The majority of this is simply rumours, but there is also photo evidence. Personally I think she has been acting very unprofessionally during this tour and I haven’t seen anyone talk about it. So here’s what I have to say.

Your throat dried up, the world around you stopped moving, yet you felt dizzy. This wasn't real, was it?

1/7 First of all, she only got this job because of her connections to Bad Omens- being friends with Bryan. Not because of her skill level or because she’s a good photographer (debatable). I bet she hassled them until she got what she wanted

2/7 Now what I really want to talk about is her unprofessional relationships with the bands. There’s been a picture circulating of her kissing Vinny (miw) at what appeared to be a family party? His family’s party. Why was she even there? [insert picture]

3/7 But this isn’t all, look at the dress she’s wearing in that photo, and then this one [insert picture of you and Noah and the record label party] it’s the same dress. This means people can't say "maybe it was someone who looks like her?" No. it WAS HER

4/7 And even just LAST NIGHT, she was spotted with Noah at a concert, I’ve seen pictures, everyone’s seen the pictures. I’ve also been told by multiple people she was even seen kissing and making out with him towards the end of the show? WHAT THE HELL

5/7 She seems really close with Vinny, have you seen the way she lights up when she talks about him in the interview she did at the festival they played at? and she made excuses to talk about him? They’re always spending time together, and if you looked closely in the background of this picture Vinny posted on his story, he was in his hotel room but you can clearly see her stuff on the bed. I can only assume this means they’ve been sleeping together? [insert picture]

6/7 A lot of people have been speculating, saying she’s been seen leaving hotel rooms with Noah and Vinny on separate occasions, do they know about this? Or is she just the band’s shared groupie who happens to own a camera?

7/7 I really don’t think this is very professional and it needs addressing. She needs to sort this out before even considering a career in the scene- if she’ll have a career since this will forever be haunting her. And, I for one will not be listening to the bands who choose to support her!

You couldn't believe what you were reading.

Everything you had been hiding for weeks, months, was just out there. On the internet.

“Fuck, y/n have you seen this?” Ricky rushes over in a panic, showing you the same post, but you can’t say anything. You don't react.

You swallow hard, standing up from your chair in an attempt to leave, but that was made impossible.

“What’s going on?” Noah asks, rather concerned as comes up behind you, putting an arm around your shoulder.

He catches a glimpse of the picture of you kissing Vinny on Rick’s phone. You feel Noah’s body stiffen all of a sudden, and you turn to look up at him with tears in your eyes, you swallow back the lump in your throat as you shake your head. 

“Noah…” 

“No." He lets go of you. "Ricky, can I?” He nods to his phone, and Rick hands it over to Noah.

You stand there frozen as he scrolls through the post. You hear his breathing become heavier, rougher, the more he read. You could feel the anger, the betrayal, the disappointment almost radiating off of him.

In a desperate attempt, you reach out for him, stumbling over your words.

“I... I can explain…” You stuttered. 

“Oh, you can?” Noah raised his eyebrows, looking down at you with an expression you had never seen on him before, “What the fuck is there to explain?!”

“But…”

“No!” He shouted, and you could see his eyes fill with tears, “I knew it all along. I fucking knew it!" He scoffed, a humourless laugh falling from his lips, "You’ve been lying to me. For three goddamn months?! And this is how I find out?!"

There was nothing you could do, nothing you could say.

"And you had the fucking audacity to tell me you loved me last night? Was that just a lie too? Huh?”

“No!” You sobbed, covering your mouth with your hand, “I was going to tell V-”

“I don’t care. I don't fucking care! I trusted you. Y/n, I trusted you. You know exactly how my last relationship ended, and you still do this to me? If that isn’t the biggest fuck you then I don’t know what is.” 

“Can I please have a chance to explain-”

“No! Nothing you can do or say will fix the fact that you’ve been screwing him the entire time we’ve been together!”

“Hey,” Angela piped up, “The two of you were never actually together.”

“That’s not the point, and stay out of this, this is between us." Noah points at you, "You have told me time and time again that there was nothing going on between you and Vin, you were insisting you were just friends, but you were just lying straight to my face! The both of you! I was stupid enough to believe you because I loved you!” 

“Noah, I was scared!” You cry, “It wasn't meant to happen and then... I couldn't stop and... I was scared I’d lose you if you found out! I didn't want-” 

“So I wasn’t good enough for you?” He scoffed, throwing his head back in anger, running a shaky hand through his hair, “I wasn’t enough?”

“No! Noah, please, can we go somewhere else and talk about this?”

“No. You’ve said enough. You've done enough.” He said, shaking his head. You watch a stray tear roll down his cheek, and you feel your heart break into a million pieces. “We’re done, whatever we are, whatever you thought we were, it’s over. I’ve spent years protecting myself from this, because this isn’t the first time I’ve been lied to like this, and you know it. I can’t believe you.”

And with that, he took his keys and left. You wanted to chase him out, follow him and apologise, but your legs wouldn't take you, leaving you to cry your heart out in Angela’s arms. 

“What the fuck was that?” Ryan asked, as the others all stared.

"I think the party's over." Rick sighed, "We'll be lucky if the tour isn't over."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

@/badomensofficial

We regret to announce that, due to personal circumstances within the band, we will not be performing for the last two nights of the Touring The End of The Concrete Jungle Tour. We are so sorry to be announcing this on the date of one of the shows, but this decision was incredibly difficult, but it is necessary for us to prioritise the well-being of our members at this time.

We deeply apologise to everyone who was looking forward to seeing us and appreciate your understanding and support. Motionless in White will be playing as scheduled, but we won't be there.

We’ll be back as soon as we can to make it up to you, but in the meantime we’re also working on our next record. We will see you again, friends. 

With love,

Nicholas, Jolly and Folio 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You stared at the post through swollen eyes, having been up most of the night crying again. After Noah left the party, he didn't answer his phone, he hasn’t replied to anybody’s texts, and nobody knew where he had gone. 

He was kind enough to dump your bags outside the venue, from the night before. You collected them as Shae drove you to the hotel after Rick called off the party.

You couldn’t believe what happened that night, the majority of it felt like a blur, you barely remember what the tweet said, but you had to sign out of all your accounts because the messages you were receiving weren’t the kindest, and you weren't in the best place to be reading them.

Your plans for the future, to move in with Noah, was seemingly thrown out of the window, you were so glad you didn’t tell Andy you were backing out.

You were back to square one again, wondering if this was really what you wanted. 

As you rolled over in your bed again to charge your phone, you hear a knock at your door. You didn’t want to answer it, you didn’t want to face anybody today. 

“Y/n! I know you’re awake!” It was Angela, “And I know this is your room!”

Sighing, you got out of bed and opened the door for her. 

“What’s up?” You asked as she carefully shut the door behind her. 

“What’s up is I just walked in on an old guy screwing his wife! I thought your room was on the fourth floor and the door was slightly open so-“

“Angela,” you frowned, “I know you came to check up on me, I’m okay. I just need some space.”

“Oh… That’s okay!” She smiled, “I wanted to check up on you, nobody's heard from you yesterday and you just left so suddenly that night, I had to fill Vinny in on what happened so expect a visit from him when he finally wakes up.”

“Great.” You frown, “Did the guys… Say anything?”

“What do you mean?” She asked. 

“Do they all hate me?” You felt your bottom lip quiver as you asked her, and her eyes softened as she pulled you in for a hug. 

“No! Of course not!” She reassured you, “All the Motionless guys are on your side, baby, you and Noah weren’t exclusive, therefore you were allowed to see other people. Bad Omens however… Jolly’s pretty pissed off, and Bryan.”

“Bry?”

“They don’t want to see their friend hurt.” She explains, stroking your hair, “They’ll come around eventually. The rest don’t really care, it’s none of their business anyway.”

“How’s Vin?” You ask.

“What do you mean?”

“Does he feel guilty too? He was in on it, he lied to Noah for me.”

“I think so- What’s that?” She asked, looking over at your phone on the nightstand.

“Bad Omens have pulled out.” You frown, “There’s only two nights left, I'm guessing Noah's gone off the rails or something.”

“Shit, really? I hope he’s okay, he was in quite a state.”

“I know, Ang. It keeps me up, he’s all I can think about…” You sigh, “I told him after the concert that I wanted us to really give it a go, I saw a future with him... I was going to tell Andy I couldn’t make the tour with them and-”

“Andy?” She furrowed her brows, “Andy as in…?”

“Andy from Black Veil.” You nodded, “When I went to the record label party with Noah and the guys I met him and he said he’s seen my work and wondered if I was available to come on tour with them in a few weeks.”

“What?” Her jaw dropped, “Does Vin know this?”

“No… I haven't had the chance to tell him yet.” You frown, “Why would it bother him?”

“Well…” She hesitated for a moment, “I think you should go and talk to him.”

“Why? What’s he said?”

“Nothing… I think he just…" She held her hands up in defeat, "I can’t, I promised I wouldn’t say anything.” 

You nodded your head, looking around the room for your hoodie. 

“Do you know what room he’s in?”

“216, him and Rick are sharing though which might be a problem.”

“I don’t care anymore, Ang, everything's out now, I’ve got nothing left to hide.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You knocked on Vinny’s hotel door, staring down at your feet as you waited for him to open it. 

“What are you doing here?” Ricky asked, surprised to see you.

“Can I speak to Vinny?” You asked, clearing your throat. 

“He’s in the shower,” Ricky said, opening the door for you, “I’m about to go out and get a coffee, I guess you can sit and wait for him.” 

“You guess?” You smiled faintly.

Ricky smiled back before slipping his shoes on. 

“Just don’t fuck on my bed, please. It’s all I ask.” 

“That’s not what I’m here for...” You shake your head, “I just wanted to talk to him after the other night.” 

“Has anyone heard from Noah yet?”

“No,” you shake your head, “And if they did I’m sure they wouldn’t tell me. Not even Bryan’s talking to me at the moment.” 

“Shit,” Rick frowned, “Look, if it’s any consolation, we’re on your side. You had every right to have fun and mess about with other people if you and Noah weren’t anything serious, I get he’s pissed about the lying though.” 

“I know, I’m sorry.” 

“Hey, it’s not me you need to apologise to,” he chuckled, “See you later.” 

“Bye, Rick.” 

You sat in silence for a couple minutes, waiting until you heard the shower turn off. You thought of what you would say to Vinny, what even was there to say?

“Oh, hi,” he smiled as he walked out of the bathroom, one towel wrapped around his hips as he dried his curls with another, “How are you doing?”

“Not too good,” you sigh, “You?”

“I feel awful.” 

“I just keep thinking to myself… What if I just kept it all professional? Why couldn’t I have just controlled myself? Now I’ve lost... Everyone!” You sob. 

“You haven’t,” his voice softened, “You’ve still got the guys, Angela... Me. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“But Vinny…” You look up at him through teary eyes, and he could tell where this was going. 

He shook his head. 

“No. No, don’t do this.”

“I've been thinking-"

"Don't you fucking..."

"You deserve better, Vinny.” You swallow hard, fighting back tears, “I’m so sorry… For everything I’ve put you through. You didn’t deserve it. You’re a great guy, you’re probably my favourite person I’ve ever met, you mean the world to me Vin, but I put you through hell and for what?”

“And I knew what I was getting into, fuck I’m getting deja vu here,” he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, but to no avail, “I couldn’t have just ignored you, y/n. Not when I fell in love with you the first time I ever saw you. It would've been impossible.” 

“What?” 

“Wasn’t it obvious?” He chuckled. 

“I… Vinny... you…?”

“Remember that first night, the party, when I spilled your drink? I saw you and that guy, I was watching you two from across the room, and when I saw him lean in to kiss you…”

“That’s when you knocked into me.” It was like pieces of a puzzle were finally coming together in your brain. 

“Everything could’ve been totally different if that never happened, I never knew it would end like this, and if I could go back in time I'd change it all. I’m sorry.” 

“No, don’t apologise.” 

“I should, though. It’s my fault this all happened in the first place, y/n.” He let out a bitter laugh. “I knew Noah was into you. We all did. But that didn’t stop me, did it?”

You watched him shake his head.

“I watched him fall for you, I saw him with you everyday” Vinny admitted, voice shaking. “And I let it happen anyway. Because I- I was selfish, I couldn’t stop myself. Even when I told myself I should. Even when I knew what it would do to him. I knew it would tear everything apart.” His voice cracked, his eyes welling with tears. “But I did it anyway. Because I wanted you. God, I wanted you.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you whispered

“But I was the one who kissed you first.”

Vinny’s lips parted slightly, but he said nothing.

“I knew how I felt about Noah,” you continued, voice shaking. “And yet, I still couldn’t wrap my head around what I felt for you, I still can't now! It's something I’ve never felt before. Something I don't understand. It was new and exciting, and I loved every moment I’d spend with you,” You exhaled a shuddering breath. “Vin, I love everything about you.”

You got up and Vinny took a step closer, but you shook your head, pressing a trembling hand to his chest.

“And that’s what makes this so fucking cruel.”

His brows furrowed. 

“Y/N…”

Tears blurred your vision as you looked at him, memorising every detail, his parted lips, his glossy eyes, the crease between his brows.

“I love you,” you choked out. “And yet I still let myself hurt you.”

Vinny shook his head, reaching out to grab your wrist. 

“No. No, you didn’t-”

“I did,” you sobbed. “I did. I ruined everything. And I can’t fix it, Vin. I can’t. I don’t deserve to…" Your eyes met his, before whispering, "I don’t deserve you.”

His grip on you tightened. 

“Don’t say that. Don’t fucking say that.”

Your chest ached with the weight of it all.

“Through everything, you were willing to stay by my side. Even when I had to push you away, you understood. No other man on this planet would’ve done that.” 

“It’s because I love you.” He said, almost pleading with you, “I realise now that I was willing to do whatever you wanted me to because I just wanted you to be happy. If that was with Noah, then I would’ve wished you two the best of luck. If you needed time, I was happy to wait. I would've waited as long as you needed, I just...”

“Vinny…” 

“No… I think I should give you your birthday gift now…”

You watched him dig through his suitcase before pulling out a small box. 

“I didn’t have time to wrap it or anything.” He apologised, handing it over to you as he quickly got dressed.

As you opened it, you felt your heart sink even further. 

It was a key. 

“Wh- What’s this for?” You ask, taking it out of the box. 

“It’s a key.”

“I can see that,” you laughed through your tears, “Where to?”

“My house.” He said, “This is going to sound so stupid to say out loud given everything that just happened, but I just assumed in the end you’d pick me over Noah. Just because… I thought if he really meant something to you then you’d drop me, but you never did. I’m sorry, it seems stupid now, but I was going to ask if after the tour finishes you’d maybe want to move in? I need a new roommate, and there’s nobody else I’d be able to live with besides you. And our photographer’s pretty much quit so I was going to suggest you join us full time.” 

“I can’t do this.” You say, shaking your head and heading for the door.

You still haven't told him.

“It’s not you Vin, I promise.”

Before you could go anywhere, he caught your wrist. 

“What do you mean?” His whole body went rigid.

“I’m so sorry, Vinny…” You forced yourself to swallow past the lump in your throat. “I- I’m going back on the road… with Black Veil Brides. In three weeks.”

His face fell.

His grip on your wrist slackened, and you could feel the moment his heart shattered.

“…You’re what?”

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you, Vin, I’m so sorry.” Your voice cracked. “I’m so, so sorry.”

You reached for him, desperate, but he took a slow step back, shaking his head.

For the first time since you’d met him, Vinny truly had nothing to say.

And somehow, that hurt more than anything.

“Vin?”

“How long have you known this?”

“...About a month.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me? Not once did it cross your mind?” He spat.

“I didn’t think it would matter.”

Vinny shook his head. 

“What happened to wishing me the best?” You raised an eyebrow, your voice quieter now, “This is my dream, Vinny. I’m sorry I didn’t consider you in it.” 

“No.” Vinny swallowed, nodding his head, “I’m sorry. I’m happy for you, it’s just a bit of a shock, that’s all. I’m so happy for you… I just wished you would’ve told me.” 

You smiled faintly. 

“I should’ve. I'm sorry.” You said, before reaching out for his hand. “You’re too good to me, Vinny. You've but nothing but good to me. Maybe in another life, another time, things would’ve been different. Maybe we would’ve met earlier, found each other sooner. Things would’ve been less complicated, I would’ve been able to give you my all.”

“W-We can still try.” Vinny offered, but you shook your head. 

“I think I need to clear my head first, Vin. It’s been nothing but chaos for the last three months, I need to clear my name and focus on my career and make that my main priority before anything else.”

“I’ll always be here for you, y/n.” He said, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb, you could tell this was a front, and he was holding back on his real emotions, “Whether it’s just as your friend, or more, I’ll always be here.” 

“Thank you.” You smiled, your voice breaking as he pulled you in for a hug. “Really, Vinny. Thank you.” 

The two of you pulled away, and you wiped the tears from your eyes. 

“So... Do you know what you're going to do about Noah?”

“Hm?”

“Are you going to try and fix things?”

“I want us to be on good terms, I want us all to be on good terms with each other. But I think it’ll take a while for him to come around. I hurt him really badly, I hurt both of you, and I understand that he needs space, it’s a lot for him to process.”

Vinny nodded his head. 

“Let things cool down first, that’s a good idea.” 

You stood there in front of him, a comfortable silence in the room. Until he he spoke again,

“Have you heard we’ve got a new song coming out?” Vinny asked, “I wrote it, or the majority of it.”

“No!” You raise an eyebrow, “What’s it called?” 

“I think we’ve decided on Nothing Ever After.” 

You furrow your eyebrows, but you don’t question it.

“Sounds cool, do you know when it's coming out?”

“At the end of the week, but we’re playing it tomorrow night for the first time… But there’s something I need you to know, and I don’t want to upset you at all.” 

“What is it?” 

“It’s kind of about us… About you.” 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

After going back to your room, you booked a flight home for that night, despite Vinny's attempts to keep you.

You said your goodbyes to all the guys, Angela, and Vinny, they still didn’t want to let you go, but they understood your decision.

"We'll miss you." Chris smiled, pulling you in for a hug, "I know you weren't originally supposed to be our photographer, but you've really done a great job."

"Thanks, Chris." You smiled, afraid to say anything to anyone else. Especially Vin.

Ryan drove you to the airport, which you thanked him for. It was even tough to say goodbye to him, and the two of you didn't even spend that much time together.

As you walked through the airport you were almost waiting to see Noah, you wouldn’t admit it, but you were wishing he’d come running in, call your name and you'd go running into his arms.

But there was nobody. Nobody to stop you, nobody to tell you this wasn’t how it was supposed to end.

You checked in, went through security, and found yourself sitting at the gate, staring at the stupid pet rocks Vinny had given you.

Your fingers curled around the one painted like him, gripping it so tightly your knuckles turned white. You had no idea what you were doing. If this was the right choice. If you were running away again.

Maybe in another life, you would’ve stayed.

Maybe in another life, you would’ve picked Vinny from the start.

Maybe in another life, Noah would’ve fought for you.

But in this one, you knew you had to let them both go.

Once you were sat in your seat, preparing to switch your phone off and sleep on the way home, you received a text. 

Hey, y/n! Hope you’re doing well! I’m so sorry to have to do this, but our management said we can’t take you with us on our upcoming tour due to the recent news about your relationships with members of the bands you’ve been working with. I just need you to know, this isn’t a decision I’ve made, I was against this as I would’ve loved you to join us, but it’s out of my control. I’m so sorry, y/n, but I wish you the best.

Stay in touch. Andy 

You felt like you had been shot in the chest.

As if things couldn’t get any worse.  

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“So, I was thinking… We should play the new song tomorrow. I know I said save it for the next tour but what do you think?” Vin asked as he wiped his arms down with a towel, trying to get off the remainder of his body paint before getting changed. “It’s the last night, let’s give ‘em something new.”

“I like your thinking.” Chris smiled, “But I also know what the true meaning behind this song is, even if you won’t admit it"

Vinny didn’t respond, just kept scrubbing at the black paint on his forearms.

"Are you sure you’re ready to put this out whilst everything’s still so raw?”

Vinny let out a slow exhale and shrugged.

“I don’t care, to be totally honest.” He finally met Chris’ gaze in the mirror. “Let them think what they want to think.”

Justin, who had been half-listening while scrolling on his phone, turned around.

“Wait. I know you helped write the song, but… is it really about her?”

Vinny tossed the towel into his laundry bag.

“Maybe.” He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe not.”

Later that night, on the bus, he lied in his bunk with his phone in his hands, staring at your contact name.

He shouldn’t text you.

But he wanted to. Wanted to check if you got home safe. If you were okay. If you were happy, or as happy as you could be. He also wanted to give you a heads-up about tomorrow night. Maybe even ask for permission.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard before he finally gave in.

Hey, I hope you got home safe. Just know that while you’re sleeping happily in your own bed, I’m out here getting back pain from the bunks lmao.

We’re thinking about playing that new song tomorrow night. Would it be okay?

You walked into your bedroom after brushing your teeth, settling under the covers before reaching for your phone on the nightstand. You saw you had two messages from Vinny.

You hesitated before typing back.

Surely, I should be the first to hear it.

Vinny stared at your reply. His thumb hovered over the screen.

Should he?

You were gone. And for all he knew, he might never see you again.

He sighed, then hit send.

[1 Video Attachment]

I know my singing isn’t the best, but I recorded this the other week. I’ve been writing lyrics ever since I first felt I was losing you to Noah, not that you were ever mine to lose. At first, it was just random lines, but then I remembered we had that track from Illenium. Chris hadn’t worked on lyrics for it yet, so I showed him what I had. He loved it. So with his help, we turned it into something real.

Please don’t get mad. I just needed to get it out of my head.

…

The next day, you still hadn’t opened the video. Or even replied.

You couldn’t.

It sat there in your messages, taunting you. Every time you picked up your phone, your eyes flickered to the notification, to his name. But your thumb always hesitated, hovered, then swiped away.

Instead, you went about your day, throwing yourself into anything that could possibly serve as a distraction. You practically begged your manager to take you back, pleaded for any opportunity. You needed something for the meantime as you had been in contact with a few bands, asking about work, but deep down you knew the truth. No one would call. No one would offer you work.

Not after everything.

The entire scene knew by now, for all the wrong reasons. You weren’t a photographer anymore, you were a fucking scandal, a lesson to be learned, a warning of what not to do.

By the time you got home, you felt hollow. The weight of exhaustion pressed down on you, but you didn’t sleep, how could you? You stared at your ceiling, phone clutched in your hand, Angela’s texts illuminating the dark room.

He’s not okay.

You stared at the message for a long time.

I’ve never seen him like this. He barely talked before the show. He’s throwing himself into playing like it’s the only thing keeping him standing. I want to help but I don't know how.

Your breath hitched.

You wanted to type something back, anything, but what could you even say? That it wasn’t your problem anymore? He should get over it?

That it was easier this way?

Lies. Every single one of them.

Angela’s next text sent a chill up your spine.

They’re about to go on.

Your heart lurched knowing that song was going to be played at this show and you still hadn't heard it.

Your fingers hovered over Vinny’s contact. You could ignore it. You should ignore it.

But you didn’t.

Instead, with a shaky breath, you tapped the message thread and pressed play.

Vinny was sat at a piano?

Your breath stuttered.

Since when did he play?

He didn’t look at the camera. His head was bowed, fingers ghosting over the keys. His voice was quiet, almost hesitant, but steady.

But his words hit you like a punch to the stomach.

If you fall, then I will too, into nothing ever after. Do we have to face the truth, or look away, neglect the wounds? All the warning signs we refused to see, like a hurricane that’s drowning me.

The breath left your lungs.

You clenched your jaw, curling your fingers into your palm. The phone shook slightly in your grip.

So we build it up just to tear it down But the pieces don’t fit now. We’re falling apart, we’re fading away Pretending the damage doesn’t matter.

It hurt.

Not because of his voice, but because of the truth in his words. And knowing he had written this.

You had both caused this.

You pressed the phone against your chest, squeezing your eyes shut. You couldn't listen to the rest.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there, how long you tried to swallow down the lump in your throat.

Then your screen lit up again.

Angela.

They just announced the new song.

You didn’t move.

Chris just said the title.

You didn’t need to read the next text.

You knew what it was called.

You knew exactly what it was called.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

On stage, the lights pulsed as the crowd roared and cheered.

Vinny sat behind his kit, head down, drumsticks clenched so tight his hands trembled.

We've been dreaming wide awake, feeding poison to each other. It's too hard to walk away, 'cause it's easier to suffer.

He should’ve done everything differently.

He should’ve fought harder. He should've tried harder.

But it was too late.

"Everybody fucking JUMP!" Chris shouted out to the crowd.

The floor of the venue shook. The crowd screamed, fists in the air, bodies moving to the music, completely unaware of the war raging inside the mind of the man behind the drums.

Vinny slammed into the drums like his life depended on it. Like if he just hit hard enough, he could beat the pain out of his own chest. Hit after hit, faster, louder, pouring every ounce of frustration, heartbreak, and regret into the set, until his vision blurred.

Until he felt something hot and wet hit his hands.

Tears.

He barely noticed at first.

But Angela did.

She saw everything.

The way his head dropped lower. The way his shoulders curled in. The way his hands trembled between hits.

The song was coming to its climax, but Vinny didn’t feel the energy of the crowd anymore.

He felt his own heart breaking all over again.

We're fallin' apart, we're fading away Pretending the damage doesn't matter. Ignoring the scars, but now it's too late We settle for nothing ever after...

Nothing.

The lights pulsed red.

His chest felt hollow, his head spun.

And still, he played.

Even as his drumsticks cracked under the force of his grip. Even as the tears blurred his vision. Even as he felt like he was seconds away from shattering completely.

Because that’s all he could do.

Play until there was nothing left.

Play until he felt something.

Play until the past was nothing more than an echo in the back of his mind.

Play until he forgot.

But how could he forget?

How could he forget the way you looked next to him in bed in the mornings, hair a tangled mess, eyes still heavy with sleep as you blinked up at him like you weren’t quite sure if you were awake yet?

How could he forget the way you used to look in his hoodies, when you'd steal one and curl up beside him, your warmth pressing into his side like you belonged there?

How could he forget the way he made you laugh, a sound so full of life that it made his chest ache?

How could he forget the way you looked at him?

Like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Like you loved him.

But if you loved him, why did you leave?

Why was it so easy for you to walk away while he was still here, drowning in everything you left behind?

Why did it feel like he was the only one who couldn’t move on?

We settle for nothing...

And as the song finally came to an end, he let himself breathe.

There would be no more hiding. No more looking over his shoulder, waiting for Noah’s glare. No more having to bite his tongue.

It was out now and he didn't care.

Because now he had nothing left to lose.

Ever after.

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

i am so so sorry to everyone who was excited to find out who she ends up with but the title of the fic is nothing ever after... it was always going to end this way :') BUT if you're still here reading this i'm going to spoil something. it's not over. i have 2 sequels for this fic. TWO!! ONE FOR THE VINNY GIRLIES. ONE FOR NOAH GIRLIES!! i'm already on chapter 15 of the vin fic (which is literally insane but i've been writing it on and off for two months now) and i'm on chapter 5 of the noah one which i finally started last week, but i know there are literally NO fics for vinny so that was kinda my priotity :) THANK YOU FOR READING AND IM SORRY FOR THE ENDING LMAO I LOVE YOU!! <33

@rumoured-whispers @bloody-spades @lma1986 @thisbicc @dominuslunae @miss570 @miamore0570 @jilliemiw86 @itsyaboinoah @kait16xo @discocowgirly @rainy-darling

[idksomething356]

My Littlest Pet Shop [au] tf x reader Absolute Territory pt.1

! DO NOT take this too deep&seriously, these headcanons are just for fun and for freaky freaks like me. This is my AU, so I am smashing everything I know together !

To fully understand what's happening here SFW + short story

You are a pet. Simply put — a pet. Time has passed since you first arrived on the Lost Light. Drift was the one who rescued you from the evil servos of Decepticons, who were ready to squeeze you like a stress ball and toss away your limp, soulless body. But for once, lady luck had finally smiled upon you.

Drift had actually planned to present you as a gift to his conjux, Ratchet — thinking that the always-busy medic could use a stress-relief pet to hold and lazily petting on the back or their little helm during breaks from work. He had no evil intentions, really! It was just that you were so small, miserable and terrified that you were facing a terrible death that he just couldn't pass by and leave you alone! Drift wanted to protect a creature so fragile and give it to his care. Of course, Ratchet immediately scolded his beloved and intended to return you to your shop owner.

But then — you clung to his digit for dear life, eyes full of tears, looking like a kicked puppy. You mastered all of your acting skills as soon as you realized these big bots ain't gonna keep you. And… his spark ached at this scene. Congrats! This old bot's feelings have been melted by your poor condition and tears.

So, you took full advantage of your current situation.

By the grace of Primus, Rodimus and half the crew had been to Earth before, so they understood your language. It was much easier to convince others to let you stay — especially once they realized you weren’t just some mindless animal, but a sentient, thinking being. Not without effort, but you've gotten everything you need for yourself from Rodimus; new clothes, hygiene items and your own separate, organized corner room with private bathroom. Once the red-and-yellow blob Rodimus Prime even chimed in on how expensive it is to keep a human pet. And quickly apologised for it under Ultra Magnus' stern gaze.

Things got a little awkward after that… yet still pretty chill. Because, at the end of the day, you were helpful!

Well, at least for being adorable, cute, little human, welcoming exhausted mechs back to the ship after long missions. All pretty to look at.

SWERVE

Your first ever close friend was Swerve! Oh, this guy not only loves humans but is also obsessed with your shows, music, and everything else. And he’s the funniest bot around! One of the Autobots who didn't see humans as little pets and really got into your kind as their equals. So, obviously, it was easy for you two to become close and hang out together at his bar. When you don't have much to do, you always find his company and you talk about something. And you're so open to him, not just his mask of perpetually cheerful bot, not just as a good bartender, but as a real person. Well, who better than you to know what it's like to be degraded to the level of an animal with no personality or intelligence? Right.

You often helped him with drinks as much as you could. At one point, you almost convinced him to buy you roller skates, a cute short skirt, and a blazer so you could skate around, clean the floors, or deliver energon to the minibots at their tables... Though, you both understood that being exposed to energon was extremely dangerous for you. So, in the end, all you really did was stay by the bar with him, entertaining mechs with your human stories!

However, he did end up buying you a mini skirt, a blazer, and even a few extra pairs of clothes…

RUNG

Oh, this sweet, sweet bot. So Gentle and patient with you! Maybe, that is a thing that you get along with minibots due to them being not so large and tall. Yes, Rung was much bigger than you, but at least you felt relatively safe, without the fear of being crushed suddenly and recklessly. You could say that for all minibots, if you think about it. What didn't escape your keen gaze tho, was the way that despite the smile so tenderly bestowed upon you by the Autobot, you sensed something deeper, even sadder, behind it. What's more, you've quietly become the second therapist for the Lost Light crew without expecting it. In fact, you were still happy to listen to mechs, to help them sort through their feelings or just simply be here for them when needed. Rung is not an exception to it, and honestly? He appreciate it. Very much. He shares his thoughts with you, often asks you about your past, and even showed you his model ships collection! Under very close watch. You even held one ship in your hands. Not for long, but still! For extra help, you would sometimes sit with Rung in his office and listen to him talk to his patient. Their chatter, which you couldn't understand at all, made you want to go to sleep often. What were you doing there anyway? Well, you played the role of an emotional support animal human. And he sometimes needs that kind of help too, at times even more private. RODIMUS Erm, this one is... defo something. The 'fuckboy' vibes you get from him are miles away! And that's not even your problem, Rodimus immediately started playing along and flirting with you as soon as you were aboard their ship. It was nice, as odd as it sounded, but you could easily tell it was just one of his personality traits and he didn't mean anything serious by those words. He loves attention — that's what you learned short after. Since you have plenty of time, you put aside your Cybertron history lessons (thanks, Ultra Magnus, again) and go pay a visit to see Rodimus. You'd think that since he's the captain of the ship, he'd be busy all the time. But in reality? Uh, 7 out of 10? You always wondered 'does he actually do his job?' Kinda...We're not here to discuss work, are we. He'll gladly welcome you into his quarters where you can talk or even help him with some business, more often than not related to real, necessary work, or watch some cool Earth media (cool stands for action movies). However, you quickly remember Ultra Magnus' very menacing faceplate and rush Rodimus to finish the important paperwork. And he's whining, making such a pathetic optic expression that you believe he's about to cry. No, he doesn't cry, just ex-vents and gets to it. At least it's not so boring doing it with you around. But if you really annoy him with reciprocal flirting enough, he'll first start to panic, and then…. you'll have to accept the consequences of your brazen flirting with your hands on him (he really liked the way your soft touch slid over his armour).

(I know Rodi is more than that, chill)

NSFW SOON

@kitschaosden

[thatfeelinwhenyou]

hey girlie! just wanted to come on and let you know that there's an author on here that's plagiarising your work. well, she claims she's never heard of safe & sound before that's why she didn't give you any credits. but before that she said she knows about it but never read it, and only know the synopsis. which i find kinda weird? she also mentioned your fic in her authors note but never actually tagged you or anything.

she says that she was inspired by a story she read on wattpad? but some of the scenes are literally identical, and almost word for word.

her disclaimers and warnings are almost same as yours too... thought that you should know about this!

i'll link the fic in another ask because i'm not sure if you'd want to post it out there or not!!

hi anon! first of all, thank you so much for alerting me about this matter. and also to the many other anons who sent in an ask telling me about this 🥹🫶

i'm only replying to this specific ask because it's the only one that didn't explicitly state the blog of the writer. rest assured i saw all your asks, and i really really appreciate it!

i will just say my two cents here. i'm not even going to engage with the author of that particular fic because there's no age indication on their blog, and god forbid i'm beefing with a kid 😂

i went to check out the fic and thought to myself it can't be THAT simila—i am dumbfounded!

fic in qns s&s

it's not word for word but personally, i think the idea is there.

next, to address the point where they claimed they never even knew my fic existed until someone commented to let them know (this conversation with the user that brought it up took place on 13 Feb). i took the liberty to scroll through my notifs and found their username liking part 4 & the masterlist of s&s on 11 Feb...

it's definitely understandable that ideas overlap or are inspired—after all safe & sound was also inspired by The Walking Dead and The Hunger Games. and personally, i think it's okay to express the same ideas in one's own flair. but i find it hard to wrap my head around the fact that they found it necessary to claim that they didn't know that s&s existed.

they did end up mentioning safe & sound in the author's note. but only to reiterate that they weren't inspired by it, but by a story they'd read on wattpad. and because s&s and said wattpad story are "exactly the same" they gave credits to me (no tags or anything of sorts). which i find it so weird because shouldn't you give the credit to the writer of that specific story you were inspired by and not... me?

the user that was engaging with them also requested for the wattpad story link but they "deleted the app" 😅

my intention is not to be petty or put myself on a pedestal, but with the indications right in my face i think i have the right to be concerned. i also want to clear up the confusion among my readers that's taken the effort to alert me about the issue!

if you have coincidentally come across this fic, and have read it. could you let me know if you think it's similar? who knows maybe i'm just insecure or smt 🤡

however, this is not in anyway insinuating anyone to go onto their blog and spread negativity. please do not engage! i'm only here for opinions and to prevent anyone else from engaging.

lastly, if you're the author of this particular fic and you think you've been wronged and that i've misunderstood, please do not hesitate to reach out to me!

thank you.

-nat

[evenmyhivemindisempty]

Ranking the Boyds from most to least romantic?

Clement Mansell: He is SO romantic. He’s the sort of guy that says the cheesiest lines about “partners in crime” and means it 100%. Valentine’s Day especially is more important than every other holiday rolled into one! He loves the trappings of romance - the flowers, the chocolate, the dramatic proclamations of love - but he’s also so weak for the quieter moments too.

Eli Klaber: He’s absolutely a big romantic! He loves romcoms and happily ever afters and absolutely has a Pinterest board of wedding inspo. He ranks lower than Clement just because he doesn’t necessarily seek it out in the same way Clement does. He’s comfortable on his own, too!

Donald Pierce: He’s actually surprisingly romantic! It’s hard to tell though - he’s not very expressive about it, and it also doesn’t manifest in the typical masculine way. He’s sort of embarrassed about it (and loath to admit it out loud) but he’d very much prefer to be the recipient of stuff like getting flowers, getting picked up, getting walked back to his door and given a chaste goodnight kiss! I think there’s a big part of him that utterly melts for labels too - to be someone’s person! To have a wife or a boyfriend or a husband! He doesn’t like stories where the couple isn’t together at the end.

Cap Hatfield: He’s got some old-fashioned romantic sensibilities! It’s cute! He asks for a date very respectfully (maybe a little flustered), and shows up the day-of with hand-cut flowers, greets your parents or roommates politely, and holds your hand as he walks you guys out to a cute little picnic spot he’s got set up! He’s totally the sort that will insist on asking your dad for permission to marry you whether you want him to or not, though! It’s just how he was raised!

Ty Shaw: He can absolutely pull out romantic stunts sometimes, and he’s good at about remembering what’s important to his partner (birthdays, anniversaries, etc), but he’s actually inclined to treat relationships a little more casually. I think ultimately he just puts less value on romance than, say, family and friends and other obligations.

Steve Murphy: Eh, sometimes. He didn’t really think he was very romantic for most of his life, until he met Javi, and now he occasionally daydreams about Javi whisking him away to some remote, snowy cabin like that informant in ‘84. (Javi: WE WERE IN HIDING. IT WASN’T LIKE THAT.)

The Corinthian: He can imitate romance sometimes, but he’s not very traditionally romantic at his core. He does love being owned though! And he’d love to maybe own someone a little too! So! That’s ~something~?

Danny Maguire: Historically, not really. That being said, I think a part of Danny’s just conditioned himself not to expect it. He might prickle, but he’d also be really flustered if someone he liked got him a small, thoughtful gift, or surprised him by picking him up for stargazing.

Quinn McKenna: Quinn fast-forwards during romantic scenes in movies.

[owensbabygirl]

-english is not my first language-

this is not that much of an angst one shot but I might turn this to an au if ppl will like it sooo.

matt's pov

"chris was always a night guy.

parties, drinks, and pretty girls. oh he loved them. seeing them walk around with those tight tops and low raised jeans, he was addicted.

chris is not sexuall harassing. but every girl who sits on his car, he throws her some "remark" about sex and smiles.

he's not touching her chest- but he puts a hand on her thigh. and then orders her two tequilas, maybe three- because chris don't want to get into your heart, only to your "company".

so he'll tell you about how he was hockeying in highschool and how he was rocking on the ice. he'll pay the bill- but you'll pay the price.

chris is not sexuall harassing, and he's not that horny too, but from time to time he feels empty. and every girl in the reduce turns an object. he forgot how to talk but knows how to flirt.

the end of the night is apparent, everything is in place and the path is traced. same bar same cocktail for a week ago, same topics of conversation- fidgeting some meaning for a tattoo.

until it works, he captures them. and the fact that he treats them respectfully doesn't mean that he respects them.

dont get me wrong, chris don't love women, it's deeper them that, he loves that women make him love himself.

chris has 5 girls on Instagram- same stories, same lame hook, something like:

"listen I'm not a person who hits girls usually, but with you? I decided to deviate from my norm"

it started in highschool as a way to impress man, but it now turned to a way to stick fractions since...well chris never acquired self-esteem, and the only moment he feels it is with you in the car.

chris is not sexuall harassing. he's just...sort of a murderer. and maybe I'm exaggerating I know, but chris is not that kind of a killer, he does it gently. not sneaking in the dark with a mask; he'll walk towards you with a smile, confident, and an bulge.

and what turns him to a murderer is that a woman for him is just a body. and when he used the potential, so bye.

the next day chris needs to satisfy his needs opening his phone, searching it in a swipe- tinder bumble and if that won't work so cupid, once a while.

he's not sexuall harassing but his relationship with sex is. because there's no way chris walks down the street without looking to the sides and say "fuck. she's mad hot."

shoots a glance back, checking her out. like a sniper puts the cross on the target. chris is never fine, but with a pretty girl? he's never bad as well. in the day he's were, at night he's a werewolf. when it's night time he's searching for a prey since he'll feel pain soon.

so he don't want woman, he wants them to want him. he'll cancel all his plans so they would go out with him.

let's say...the work on mornings? is going to trash. abandoning friends on their birthdays, chris plays dirty again.

and he never held himself back for any woman, yet he keeps sending them messages one after another. you don't need to sand a dick pic to act like one, chris is crosing targets he has fire in his eyes.

it's because he has grief carrying from home, between him and the man he's willing to be there's a gap that he still cant stick.

he just can't cast that spell, chris compels.

chris lies, chris flirts.

chris cums, chris regrets.

between love and lust chris gets confused. chris can't let himself be with no options, so chris mults. and chris dont want to give you nothing, he want to get.

chris is lost. what was cute at the age of 18 turned wired now when he's 30.

woman tells? it's not impressing.

chris is a thirty year old man, and never got to actually fall in love. only a love that invites, that always excites.

it's the same scenes, that one comes- the other one goes, and when chris closes the door and says goodbye...it's not his first winter alone with no one nearby.

chris knows well the loneliness, he knows it won't disappear if he won't let himself feel the emptiness. but he's not ready for it because how will he feel successed?

if he won't be with her, her, her, and probably with you too.

you need to understand this, chris don't want, he has to. a childhood full of lost created a lot of demons.

chris is not sexuall harassing but relationship with sex is. so he'll go for every girl even if she's not his type in the vibe or the right age, since he's in pain and it's friday night at the loud streets of LA. and that girl looks exactly like a painkiller.

and chris is afraid to see that under all these run away ways he's just an empty person.

and me? it scares that chris...is sort of...me."

matt paused himself after getting finished his little speech he said to himself, turning around from the pretty morning view out the window to see the random girl he already forgot her name, laying there in the bed. "nuh i need to dip" he spoke to himself again. grabbing his little bag and jacket before leaving the place.

a-n: this came out way more poetic then I thought lmao, I love writing about this, also my friends told me it was a really good plot twist, but I wrote it was matts pov from the start so...hope you liked it♡ please support by reblogging! divider by @issysh3ll

[industria-adastra]

[PMMM] And so, I fell in love alone - CHAPTER TWO: i can't grant your wish for freedom anymore

Summary: and so, Scheherazade dreamt for a thousand and one nights, and was saved out of love.

Pairing: Kriemhild Gretchen/Akemi Homura

Note: Happy Valentine's Day, have some horror yuri! This became a lot longer than I expected it to be. Mostly because I ended up putting in a lot of symbolism and imagery than I expected to. Also, here's the ao3 link.

TW: It's entirely implied but chapter two is a lot more violent and contains implied highly dubious to non-consent in the second-to-last scene, so read at your own risk. If you do not want to read about an unhealthy relationship featuring Homura's sanity being chipped away, do not read this fic.

Prev

-----

Homura should’ve pulled the trigger.

Should’ve, could’ve.

Had to. 

She didn’t.

Because she was weak. Because she was stupid. Because, because, because— 

Because she had done it once, but couldn’t bear to do it twice, with Madoka’s smile still seared behind her eyelids, with the churning in her stomach every time she saw her alive and so ordinarily happy. Every time she reversed the clock, the ghosts of the future past would always be there, strangling her with not “what-ifs,” but “already done”. 

And so, the gun had only shaken in her trembling hands, slippery and cold. Rain thundered down upon her, white noise rang in her ears, and the pressure had crushed her down to the mud. Her breaths had come out heavy, heaving, quickening bit by bit. Staring at the pulsating, crystalline egg, she tried to re-orient herself, with clammy palms and bloody nails raking across the gun’s metal as she shifted her grip. With a weak cry, and a gulping sob, she roughly aimed the gun once more, holding her breath as her gaze met with a shining pink. Her finger was poised on the trigger, ready to fire (not true, not true; it was as straight as possible, almost as if it were running away).

Of course, she knew how this story would end. Knew how it would always end from now on.

She didn’t pull the trigger.

A starry kaleidoscope exploded into view before her eyes, bright and painful like a distress flare. Bright and loud like a gunshot. 

Bang! Homura woke up. Eyes wide, breathing quick. As always, she was surrounded by stolen military goods, bomb-making materials, and dirty food packaging. As always, the clock’s never-ending tick, tick, tick echoed in the still space, louder and louder. Every tick gradually sounded deeper and deeper, more akin to a knock, knock, knock. Or maybe it was the thump, thump, thump of heavy footsteps, stalking closer and closer. Homura didn’t dare move, didn’t want to move.

She wanted to sleep; fatigue having sewn her to the bed. Sprawled out with heavy limbs, she tried to do just that. Homura’s eyes closed as she took slow, deep breaths, letting herself be lulled into unconsciousness again.

-

Soft hands gently threaded through her hair, separating the damaged strands and braiding them in practised movements. Not too loose, but not too tight. Madoka had always been so careful with her hair; combing it from the bottom rather than roughly dragging it through from the top; never yanking at it. In timelines where they had been closer, Madoka would sometimes gift her a bottle of shampoo and conditioner—always the same brand, the same combination of rose and sweet almond oil. In later timelines, it was one of the reasons why Homura felt like she could bring herself to shower.

Homura could hear Madoka humming as she worked, the same old tracks from ClariS, recently released just a few days ago. Hearing her, Homura was content to stay silent with her eyes closed, to listen and bask in her contentment. As she did so, sometimes Madoka’s fingers would glance across her nape—later on, her back—making Homura shiver ever so lightly every time they did so. 

All too soon, Madoka’s hands left her hair. The weight of her braids rested on her back as perfectly halved sections. Homura allowed herself a moment of silence before opening her eyes and turning around to thank Madoka.

No one was there.

-

“Ding-dong!” The doorbell rang. Abruptly cut out of her dreams, Homura groggily didn’t recall having invited Madoka over this time round. It was still too early to do that. (No, no, it’s too late to do any of that now). Maybe it was an NHK salesman. Maybe it was a cultist. Maybe it was her current neighbours, either that detective and his blond roommate on the right side, or the tired office worker on the left. The detective was always so nosy and always so annoying to evade. He probably figured out about the bomb-making at one point, but at least he didn’t call law enforcement on her. It was annoying enough having to evade them once.

“Ding Dong! Ding Dong! Ding Dong!” It rang again and again, all too loud and disruptive, screaming for her attention. Something scratched at the doors, “scritch scritch scritch”, carving divots into the wood, making its presence known. She ignored it. It continued to ring, continued to scratch, and Homura went back to trying to sleep. A pillow over her head might do the trick.

She needed to go to school tomorrow. Mami had saved Madoka and Sayaka from the familiars today. The Incubator would start recruiting them soon. Same old, same old. It would be more energy efficient to just sleep until then.

Homura closed her eyes.

Someone knocked on the door.

(Don’t open that door)

-

Homura found herself on a stage, surrounded by looming trees, feet bound by soft ribbons and satin, clothed in princely finery. Music flowed through the air, gentle on the strings, and airy with the woodwinds. Something called to her, a keening cry from beyond. So, she followed, one cautious step at a time, until white feathers started to fall, until the shining moonlight began to illuminate her path: step by step, all the way to an open lake. 

Its dark waters reflected the starry sky, illuminating the stage as watery candles, backlit by the enormous full moon. In the centre of it all was—

Madoka.

Madoka. Madoka. Madoka! Homura immediately ran towards her, a stunning vision of white feathers and tulle, as elegant and poised as a swan. Madoka was there, dancing underneath the stars. She rushed into the murky waters, uncaring of any potential danger that could lurk beneath them. Homura continued to reach forward, despite every step of hers plunging her deeper into the lake, dirtying the fine clothes on her with the mud of her obsession. Madoka, Madoka, Madoka! She was right there, just within reach! Homura stretched out her hand, fingertips just about to brush Madoka’s skirt.

And for a sudden moment, she fell, down, down, down, pulled into the water even as she struggled and continued to reach forward. Her arms flailed, touching nothing but the watery abyss, the sea of dead and dying stars. She was slowly running out of air, about to drown— Until a pair of hands burst into view, yanking her out of the water with a dramatic splash. 

It was Madoka, gentle and kind, smiling, and picturesque. She was clothed in an iridescent white, her feathers shining akin to an oil slick. As she guided her to stand on the water, Madoka’s hands slowly started to slip away, gliding over Homura’s palms and fingers, before they finally left. One, two, three, four. Homura watched, entranced, as she turned around to raise her arms to the fourth position. 

Madoka began to dance, sometimes with sharp movements cutting through the air like a knife, sometimes slow and controlled, like a rattlesnake waiting. She would spin, thirty-two fouettés dedicated to her; She would lean forward, leg extended in a grand battément. But sometimes, in between all the strength, Madoka’s movements were soft and delicate as she called to her. 

And so, when Madoka’s hand reached out to Homura, outstretched, confident, and waiting, she did not hesitate. 

When their hands touched, Madoka smiled, a triumphant stretch of her lips as she pulled her forward into a pas de deux. As Homura stared into those bottomless rosy-pink eyes, she smiled back, sure and happy. 

Faintly, she felt a swan song ring through her mind.

-

When Homura woke up, all was silent. Like a brief respite, the calm before the storm. Nothing could be heard, and nothing could be felt. Lying on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, her head felt like it was floating within water, heavy and pained by an incessant buzz at the sides. She didn’t want to move. She should move. She shouldn’t move.

(Why?)

It’d be better if she moved. Everything would end if she did. She needed to go to school soon. But it was nighttime. She promised her she would. Her limbs were so heavy… Homura’s fingers twitched at her sides, and she rolled over to skim her fingers across the sheets. They were almost refreshingly cool, soothing to her feverish state. She flexed her hand, then in the next moment, clawed her fingers into the bed. White noise dominated her mind.

(Promised who? Promised what?)

(Madoka)

A tick passed. A tock went by. In a sudden movement, Homura swept her legs off the bed, controlled by some sort of unknown drive. (Ma-do-ka, Ma-do-ka) Her feet lightly landed on the cold wooden floors, bare and unprotected. Silently, she walked towards the door, stopping only inches away with a hand resting on the handle. Perhaps she should turn it, perhaps she should leave it. She moved to grip it, before a sudden “Ding Dong!” shocked her away. 

It was as if something had started to press down from above, cornering her from the sides. Stock still, a sort of animal instinct suddenly seized her mind, and Homura didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe. One wrong move, and she’d be pinned to the ground like some live butterfly specimen. Her eyes were fixed on the door, waiting, waiting. 

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

And then, silence.

Something warm trickled down her nose. Licking her lips, the taste of bitter iron coated her tongue. Homura stared at the door. She summoned that bullet, wrapping her fingers tight around it, tight around a memory, a promise.

Drip.

Drip.

Drop.

Vaguely, she thought she saw an eye—bug-like and huge—pressed to the peephole, almost about to touch the glass.

(Don’t open it.)

-

She’s falling. 

In the blink of an eye, she’s plunged into a sea of red, cold, and freezing, tasting of salt and iron in her throat and filling her lungs with dread. Homura could do nothing but choke out air bubbles, automatically clinging on to her humanity despite knowing better. Something pushed and something pulled, dragging her deep, deep down into the darkness below, swallowing her whole. 

In the blink of an eye, Homura found herself garbed in nothing but white cloth, overwhelmingly starched and cold. Staring at the ground, she noted that beneath her was marble, veined with gold and shining. Her nails slipped into one of the lined cracks, and the gold broke, brittle in her hands. Nails flaked with dust, Homura turned her gaze upwards, looking straight into tens of thousands of eyes, with dilated pupils, pink irises, and widened eyelids, staring right back, fixated upon her. They surrounded her, observing her in the way a predator might before it went for the kill.

She doesn’t dare utter a sound.

In the blink of an eye, Homura’s trapped in a cage; large hands encasing her from above and below, rigidly locked together. Raised above the ground, she had a bird’s eye view, the best seat in the house. Gazing outwards, Homura saw nothing but sickly white. Surrounded by nothing, Homura was alone. Green-black dust dirtied her hands, irritating her skin. No matter how hard she rubbed, it would not be wiped away, nor would the cloth stain. 

Seven cries pierced the silence.

In the blink of an eye, Homura found herself staring down at the end of a banquet table. The sounds of cheerful revelry echoed throughout the room, with faceless figures raising their chalices up high. With their jerky, erratic movements, blood-red wine spilt out of their cups, staining the fish and bread, and splattering the table. They feasted and danced and sang, babbling melodies to be mixed into a cacophonous symphony. Arm in arm, hand in hand; they were joined together as a mass.

Suddenly, at the head of the table, a wet, fleshy sack burst into existence, giant and awful to behold. Something writhed within it, pink and violent against the pulsating walls. 

For a moment, all was still. And then—

Faceless revellers started to swarm around it, nails tearing at the meat, chewing away at the skin; a swirling vortex of ravenous beasts, tens of thousands splitting it open in their manic haste. With every bite, their euphoria increased, and they feasted and sang praises to their idol of flesh. Slowly, a figure emerged, dripping amniotic fluid and stained with blood, giant and terrible to behold, reaching for the stars. She grabbed at the walls, digging Her fingers into the stone. 

The sun was black, and the moon was red, but there were no more stars in the sky.

They clawed at Her feet, garbed in robes dripping blood, gorging themselves like pigs. Savage and instinctive, they scrabbled at the floor like dogs, squealing and screaming at each other to create a discordant melody. Insane with desperation, they clambered over and fought each other, so intertwined until there was nothing to be seen but writhing flesh.

Homura watched alone in her cage, spellbound by the grotesqueness of it all. She watched as the figure started to lean towards her, Her chest splitting, peeling into two, a chrysalis unleashing the monster inside. Leaning back, Homura’s body tensed in waiting. Slowly, surely, a pair of rose-pink eyes bored into her and greeted Homura with a seductive smile, crawling towards her as Homura shifted backwards. With every inch forward, that being—naked and newly born—stained the floor with a tar-like sludge, something pungent and rotting.

Eventually, Homura’s back hit the boundaries of her cage, and numerous hands slithered around her, trapping her in place. Her heart battered away crazily in her chest, so rapidly that Homura felt as if she might throw up. Closer and closer, that being came, trailing spindly fingers over her shins and like an iron trap biting into her thighs. They were as close as two separate beings could be, nose to nose and chest to chest, skin upon skin, pressing down with all the weight of a dying world. 

Its breath stank, too hot on her skin. Its hands were cold and uncomfortable, gliding up her sides to cup her jaw, to laugh at her before forcing a biting kiss, open-mouthed and vomiting something down her throat, uncaring as Homura choked and sputtered, drool spilling out from the sides of her mouth. Her stomach churned, and bile rose in her throat, worsening the nauseating taste in her mouth.

Its hands lowered and lowered and lowered down, digging into her sides before going further down—

Seven horns blared successively, and Homura closed her eyes tight. 

And tighter and tighter and tighter and tighter—

The sound of a swallowing gulp rang in her ears.

-

Her eyelids snapped open, showing dull violet. Her breaths came out in short, quick rasping bursts, intensifying in frequency and pitch before Homura’s hands scrambled to her neck and her thumbs pressed down. With a jolt, her breathing started to even out as she took deep, long breaths. Nothing could come to her mind, and Homura stared blankly at the dark ceiling.

(Don’t think about it. Don’t remember it. Don’t remember it. Don’t remember it—)

Suddenly, the doorbell screamed. “Ding Dong! Ding Dong! Ding Dong!” The walls rattled as something heavy, something great, slammed against the door, over and over and over and over and over and— Almost as an automatic response, Homura wrenched her blankets over herself, burrowing her head underneath the pillows. She could ignore it. She had to ignore it. It was morning. No sunlight darted past the closed blinds, and no birdsong could be heard. The windows were still locked shut, and she had installed blackout curtains when she moved in.

(Ignore it.)

Something sharp scratched against the glass, like nails on a chalkboard, a screeching, ear-splitting sound. They curled inwards, splitting away at the structure. Heavy thuds came from above, or maybe from below—Homura couldn’t tell, with her head buried underneath the sand. She didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe. She needed to go back to sleep. (She’d be safe there, probably, definitely, surely)

It was all so loud, buzzing in her ears, hissing at her ears, a wailing-screaming cacophony of voices calling, calling, calling. A scramble of radio static zapped through her mind, jostling out memories of a failure too big to ignore, too late to reverse.

Then, cutting through like a guillotine, a bell tolled, heavy, heralding. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

And then, all was silent.

“Homura-chan?” Madoka’s voice warbled, seemingly just behind her door. “Aren’t you going to let me in? I’m so tired.”

Don’t open the door. Don’t open it. Not now, not today, not ever. Her subconscious screamed at her, wrenching clawed nails into her mind, desperately trying to drag her away. Back away, back away, keep the door locked, keep the door shut. She bit her wrist, cracking the bones, wanting to sever sinew, hiding beneath her blankets, unable to let herself slip up.

(But it’s Madoka, Madoka, right there, right there.)

“Homura-chan?” Her words repeated in Homura’s head, echoing, and bouncing around, multiplying layer by layer as their poison seeped into her mind. “Won’t you let me in? Aren’t you tired of being alone?”

Her legs betrayed her, stumbling out of bed, knees slamming against the floor. They dragged her out, step by trembling step towards the front door. Homura clutched tightly at her injured wrist, trying to feel some sort of jolting pain, something that would stop her, if only for a moment. Despite her efforts, her legs continued to march on, one by one, until she stood only inches away once more.

Her hand shook as she fought to not reach out.

(It’s not her. It’s not her. It’s not her You Know It’s Not Her.)

“Homura-chan?” Her voice boomed, gentle and foreboding. “Please, let me in. Don’t you want to see me too?”

Homura’s fingers brushed against the door handle, slowly descending until they wrapped tightly around it.

(I do, I do, I do)

“Madoka?”

“Yes.”

(I want to see you again)

Homura opened the door.

[rosasstrangemelody]

…::𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠::…

People each take a rose and put it in the king's coffin, as a sign of respect and gratitude..

Cause of death?

*Magnifico sit up from the coffin* Did you take picture? Do I look good?

*checks photo on phone* No, you're good at it

[martianbugsbunny]

Omg how funny would it be if like, the end-credits scene for Ahsoka was Ezra going to visit Zeb because Filoni if you don't give me the brothers reunited I swear and they're catching up outside the house and Zeb is like "yeah no my life's been pretty good, except Sasha can't grow a decent meiloorun" and the normal people will be like ooh, Sasha, who's she, wonder if she's pretty, and we're gonna be like hanging off the ceiling crying screaming throwing up bc Sasha? Sasha!?!?!! and then Kallus comes out the house and he's like "I heard you slandering my meilooruns Garazeb, they might look funny but they taste fine" and the crowd goes WILD

[charcubed]

THERE'S NOTHING LIKE YOU & I a Good Omens season 2 playlist

Quiet, gentle, romantic, and a little bit devastating – roughly in story order. For being lonely together across 6,000 years and aching for the freedom to love.

On Spotify Here

(Previous editions: Soft To Be Strong – Good Omens season 1 | Crowley/Aziraphale upbeat song dump)

[mercless]

🗡 mad cowboy disease....

[infinitelystrangemachinex]

Mel for the unhinged character bingo!

yessss YEEEESSSSSSSSS

[sonknuxadow]

i think i do want amy and rouge to be in the next sonic movie, especially if its gonna be an sa2 adaptation, but i cant help but worry that if they try to introduce shadow AND rouge AND amy in the same movie then at least one of those characters (most likely amy. tbh.) isnt gonna get the amount of screentime and development that they deserve. especially considering in the game timeline amy was introduced much earlier and by sa2 was already an established character while rouge and shadow were the newcomers. and then theres also the human characters who are gonna be making the cast a lot bigger than it was in the game so more people to divide the screentime among. like what if amy is in sonic 3 and she gets like 5 minutes of screentime and her big moment with shadow is given to another character again

[todayisafridaynight]

any hopes for kiwami 3? like things u wanna see added or changed stuff like that

if they dont keep kiryu's goofy walk stance and the hoof-like walk sounds i dont wanna play it

[widowshill]

not for nothing that roger and jeff are wearing completely identical suits for vicki's wedding down to the same pearl stick pin and it's roger that is distinguished with the accessory and the visual emphasis. that roger wears the pocket square and jeff goes plain without one, without a boutonnière (as feels the most probable and appropriate; they both wear boutonnières in roger's prophetic dream of the wedding). that not only is he wearing the handkerchief, but it's folded in such a way as so take as much space as possible – straying from accepted formality of a neat TV fold, occupying more room on the screen, drawing more attention, pointing among other things to his heart in bright white.

[eyes1nthewoods]

watched nimona. it was ok.