#and plagued by visions as well. can't forget that.

[chiropteracupola]

back at it again at the oc-tober. if you knew cata's earlier iterations (high fantasy villainous robot queen, timetraveling knight / privateer / missing persons case) then I would be quite surprised to see her recognized in her current state.

[doe-eyed-fool]

Fear Of The Known

Lucifer x Fem!Angel!Reader

|Chapter Six|

In a near desperate attempt to forget about everything plaguing Y/n's mind, she took up learning portals from Michael. Which might not have been the best idea, considering he's still learning himself. While he could teleport himself anywhere with ease, creating a portal to another world was something entirely different.

And it took a lot of hard work and patience to perfect it. And Michael, well...He was trying his best.

But Y/n couldn't work up the nerve to ask Galim to teach her. She was always so tense around them, despite Galim being one of the kindest angels in Heaven. Michael just made her feel more at ease.

"I can't believe you've existed since the dawn of creation and yet you haven't learned how to make a portal." Y/n teases, trying to lighten the mood. Michael rolls his eyes. "Give me a break, I told you I'm better at fighting than magic. Trust me, you haven't been around as long as I have. My youth was full of many failed magic attempts."

"Aw, baby Michael." Y/n giggled at the thought of a child size Michael, causing him to blush slightly. "Anyway." Michael clears his throat. "Just repeat after me."

Michael stands straight and holds out his hands. Y/n did the same, she then inhaled and exhaled in a calm pattern. "Good. Now just clear your mind, and focus on where you want to be."

Y/n closed her eyes and tried to clearly picture what she saw last time. A wide open meadow, filled with flowers. The sound of the birds and running water. The warmth of the sun in the bright blue sky.

Nothing happened, so she inhaled deeply and tried to remember more of what she saw, what she heard, what she smelled. Earth truly was a beautiful place. It's nature was beyond all compare, simple and yet so vast and complex.

There was a small swirl of light forming just before Y/n's open palms. Michael's eyes lit up with excitement, but he refrained from speaking as not to throw her off.

Y/n wondered what night was like on earth. She's heard stories of the stars that littered across the dark blue sky. How they shined and sparkled, they along with the moon, casting just enough calming light in the darkness.

Y/n smiled at the thought, the thought of just how many wonderful things the Earth had to offer.

'Lucifer would have loved it.'

The light grew brighter and larger, and the portal finally opened. Michael's once previous excitement, quickly faded as he saw where this portal lead.

"Y/n..."

Y/n opened her eyes, her mouth fell slightly agape in surprise. Just before her, was the portal she had created. The color was the first thing that caught her eye. Then came the warm air, the uncomfortably warm air. Then there was the sounds of chaos ringing loud in her ears. Y/n swore she felt her heart drop as realization set in.

Y/n froze, unable to think clearly or utter a single word. Michael stepped in front of her and quickly closed the portal. The last thing she saw, was a large building atop of a hill. He turned to Y/n, a look of slight panic in his eyes.

"Y/n...What did you just do?" He asked, though it was obvious. He knew it, but he just couldn't believe it.

Y/n had created a portal to Hell.

"I...I don't..." Y/n muttered.

"How did you do that? You've never even been to Hell! How could you have pictured where to open the portal?" Michael asks, more to himself than to her.

Y/n looked down at her hands, they were shaking. He was right. She's never been to Hell, she's most certainly never pictured it with her own eyes. So how could she have...

"My visions." Y/n looks up at him. "I've seen Hell in my visions."

Michael was hit with the sudden realization. That was right. You had been tasked from God to keep up with Charlotte Morningstar's future, of course you've seen Hell.

"Ok." Michael exhales. "That makes sense I guess. But you...You weren't suppose to open a portal there! You suppose to open it on Earth. What happened?"

"I..." Y/n sighed. "I was thinking about Lucifer. Maybe that's why..."

Michael fell silent, so did she. Even after ten thousand years, mentioning Lucifer was still a sore subject for them both. As much as they like to think they've moved on, they never truly will. Or have...

"Well...No more of that." Michael tells her with a sigh. "Here I was worried something might happen to you on Earth. Then you go and open a portal to Hell of all places." He laughs weakly.

Y/n turns away from him. "It won't happen again. I'm sorry."

"It's fine Y/n. But yeah...I think it's best if you don't do that again." Said Michael. "I think that's enough portals for one day..."

Six months had passed, and it was finally time for Charlotte Morningstar's arrival. Y/n had informed Sera of this months in advance. She was still furious with Sera, but she could do nothing but do her duty and warn her of this very day.

Sera had little to say to Y/n, so the two parted with a brief exchange and barely spoke to each other since. Not that Y/n had anything to say to Sera, after learning about the exterminations.

Emily of course noticed, but Y/n simply told her that she and Sera were much too busy to really see each other. It did little to ease Emily's concerns, but thankfully she didn't push for a further explanation.

Y/n knew what would come from this meeting anyhow. Charlotte Morningstar would make a case that sinners could be redeemed. However, try as she may, Heaven would not be convinced. She would have not choice but to return to Hell, where she must prepare for Adam's attack.

During that meeting however, Emily found out about the exterminations. That certainly cleared things up about Y/n and Sera, but now she was left heartbroken and betrayed. She knew it was wrong, but what could she do? Despite being a Seraphim herself, she did not hold as much power as Sera.

Sera tried to put her at ease, insisting she handle things from here. But Emily could not ignore what was going on anymore...

She wasn't the only one who now knew of the exterminations. By now, everyone was aware of what she had been doing in secret. Everyone except for the civilians of Heaven, of course. And in due time, God would know as well.

Y/n was half expecting God to call for her, to see what the results of these exterminations had caused. However, there was nothing. Y/n even tried to reach out for Michael, but even he was unavailable.

It turns out, God and his angels were discussing the extermination along with Charlotte Morningstar's plans for redemption privately.

Y/n couldn't explain it, but she had a sinking feeling in her gut. So much has happened so quickly. And now God was involved. She could always look into the future for some closure.

And yet something held her back from doing so. Her nerves, her anxiety, or, it might have been fear. Fear, not of the unknown, but of what would become known.

A part of her didn't need to see the future to know that the results of this would be catastrophic. Y/n had seen it before, the possibility of Sera's punishment was becoming more set in reality now.

Y/n wanted to be more rational about this. Sera hid something this big from God for so long. Of course she would be punished for it. That is simply the consequence she must face. But Y/n did hate it for her. Sera might have had good intentions, but the way she went about it was wrong.

All of this was starting to become overwhelming. Y/n was unable to sleep because of her racing mind. The one relief she got from this, was that Adam and Lute could no longer threaten her now that everyone knew. But it did little to put her at ease.

Y/n sat up in her bed and stared down at her hands. She was avoiding the future for far too long now. She had to look. Really, she had no choice. One way or another, someone will ask her to see what comes next. And so, she closed her eyes and looked into the future.

This time, she was seeing through her own eyes. And all she could see was red. The same red, the same heat, the same sounds all that came from that portal she made months ago. And as she looked up, breaking the scarlet sky, was the gateway to Heaven opening up and down through came two angels.

A knocking caused Y/n to open her eyes, loosing the vision. She blinked a few times before the knocking was heard again. She got up from her bed, still in a state of confusion as she was making her way to the door.

She was in Hell. Why was she in Hell? What possible reason would there be for her to be down there? And who were the two angels coming down from Heaven?

Y/n reached the door and opened it. Standing before her was Michael, and he looked exhausted.

"Michael? What are you doing here so late?" She asks.

Michael tried to offer a smile as he spoke. "You got a minute to talk?"

Tags-

@bloody-delusion-expert

@simbalioness

@annybah

@alientee

[loopdile]

loopdile so real. i have a Vision of both siffrin and loop being Deeply Deeply Closeted Repressed Transfem and having gender envy over odile and i feel like that'd do Something to the Dynamic. Something......... Something........................... well i'm not successfully envisioning it but maybe YOU are?

i am positively plagued by loopdile gender visions!!! maybe not the exact same as you're thinking but i think you will enjoy them. walk with me, anon, through the garden of my loop gender headcanons. it's kind of a big garden but we'll get to the odile part eventually i promise.

Before they were Siffrin, Siffrin had their gender on lock: something transfem, but also tied to unique cultural elements in some way, either the specific identity or the way of thinking about it or just the particular set of presentation options. Perhaps they even started fantasy HRT! But then they forget everything, obviously, including their identity and transition plans. They decide pretty quickly that they're not a man, but none of the alternatives feel exactly correct either; if their previous identity was presented as an option, maybe it would click and they'd settle into it pretty fast, but unfortunately that is literally impossible.

So, no clear goals in mind. And because of his forgotten past, continued memory problems, and constant traveling, Siffrin starts to really value the few things he can count on to stay consistent. He'd rather wear his comfortable hat and cloak than leave them behind in favor of anything more gendered. He'd rather stick with his familiar body than risk changing it. Still, maybe there are some changes he'd be happier in the long run to have made... but the process would be stressful, and he's got enough stressful things to worry about already!

But then we get to Loop. Who has already been changed, suddenly and irrevocably and so very, very accidentally. They are not Siffrin anymore, they do not have the hat and cloak, they aren't even human. They don't even really remember who they were pre-loops. There is no familiarity for them to cling to; instead, they're desperate to find things they can control, things they can change, proof that the world moves forward and they're in charge of their place in it. The motivation that Siffrin lacked, Loop now has in spades!

However, their negative feelings are more intense as well. They struggle to face real stakes, to put effort into anything too complicated, to try anything that might disappoint them. They take risks, yes, but not about things they care about; they take risks because they don't care. And they have a lot of other things going on, too, both practically and psychologically, so gender isn't their immediate priority. "Who and what am I?" is a very difficult question for them right now on multiple levels, a difficult question with only difficult answers.

But, starting with the practical: wearing clothes is an easy way to look and feel a little bit more normal, right? So they experiment, and they decide that dresses are just similar enough to the cloak to be comfortable, but distinct enough to not be as emotionally fraught. And they like them in a frivolous way that Siffrin was never willing to lean all the way into. Siffrin didn't put much thought or energy into his appearance, but Loop's inhuman form is a constant issue, so they might as well dress it in a way they like! Something good to balance out the bad, since they can't be neutral any longer.

And of course they think about body craft, though in a different context from most people. Even the nearly-human parts of their body are lacking detail, without all the right functions behind the form, and then other parts aren't human at all. Their body feels wrong, distracting, constricting. They don't understand how it works, and it draws attention they don't want, and it's not them. And yet, isn't it? Even if they'd been put back into a Siffrin body again, they aren't Siffrin anymore, either. Loop is what the loops made them. They want to change their body, to make it something they can be comfortable in, but they can't. Because body craft is a method of changing flesh and blood and bone, and Loop is not made of such human stuff anymore.

So we've got Loop. Trying to find themself, and maybe succeeding in some ways, but stymied or uncertain in others. Desperate to change, but scared to hope. To make a long story short, they join back up with the party, which brings its own set of problems, and yet... it's also a step towards fixing some of their problems, too. Most relevant to our post, here: Odile is a craft expert with a unique set of experiences. She's got a wide foundation of knowledge, since she's familiar with all three main craft types. She used to be part of Ka Bue's underground body-crafting scene, where she not only crafted her own body but also helped and taught other people; and unlike in Vaugarde, where Houses provide resources and education, Odile and her peers had to do their own research and experiments, develop their own techniques. She even has some knowledge of wish craft from Siffrin, and the way she stopped Siffrin from looping proves that she's unusually good at analyzing and adapting to new forms of craft.

So once Loop's dissatisfaction with and ignorance regarding their own physical form comes to Odile's attention, of course she offers to help. To see if she can figure out what their body is made of, and how it works, and hopefully, in what ways it can be changed.

And this dynamic with her... it's totally different from her relationship with Siffrin, both pre-loops and post. And Loop has always admired her, and here she is, talking about the confidence and determination with which she changed her own body, not without fear or frustration but not letting herself be slowed down by them, either. Taking her fate into her own hands and refusing to be anyone other than herself. And Loop used to feel that Odile understood them best, and losing that connection felt like the end of the world, but here she is, still! Observant and caring as ever. Dedicated to figuring them out again. Unflinching as she sees them for the strange thing they currently are, but equally unshakable in her insistence that they do not have to stay exactly as they are.

So Odile helps them figure out their body. Helps them with the craft itself, too, but even more than that — through both encouragement and example, she helps them be brave enough to genuinely try. To ask themself what they really want. To strike a balance between Siffrin's complacent hesitation and Loop's miserable desperation. To experiment, and face both the chance of failure and the chance of success with head held high. To hope.

Odile is not one for platitudes and empty positivity, after all. If she says something's possible, then it is, or she will make it so, one way or another, despite any setback. Isn't she proof? She remade herself, and she can remake Loop, too. Changing them, slowly and carefully and so very, very deliberately. Loop will never be human again, but they can decide who they are and become themself.

[acourtofthought]

i feel like a lot of people forget that elain wants to travel, has dreams to see the tulip fields on the continent, and that is enough for me to see why lucien is literally the perfect match for her? idk i just do not see az traveling across the world? leaving his duties and orders from rhys behind??? granted we don’t know exactly what az dreams of doing with his life, but i just feel like with what we know of him as a character he would not travel and explore the world? but idk.. do you have any thoughts about him and he would want besides love?? he is far too complex when you start thinking about him too much lol

100%. "Az had too much on his plate already." How is Elain, "the world needs more gardens" going to set off into the world to do just that when Azriel already has so many duties for Rhys and other things that take up his time (one of which now includes training the Valkyrie)? I don't think "the world needs more gardens" was a line to suggest that Elain is going to travel around to the various courts to help people plant gardens, I think it was more a nod to what Elain's powers might be (life / earth) and how there are various areas in Prythian that have begun dying. The Spring Court / the Prison / the Bog / the sickness plaguing the Pegasus foals. It's not like Az couldn't accompany her to a few of those places but he's got ZERO business going to the Spring Court. He is the notorious spymaster of the NC, are we really thinking he's going to be chilling in Spring by Elain's side with Tamlin as HL? Do we really think Az is getting the carpet rolled out in the Day Court when he is pissy towards Helion because of Mor? Elain's story hasn't been set up to visit the prison, she's been connected to the continent, the Spring Court, we know there's issues in Day and her mate needs to find out about his heritage. And you're right, he has responsibilities to the NC that he does need to handle, he already has a job and it doesn't make sense that he could just push that aside to follow Elain around. Not to mention what he does doesn't really match with what she might be capable of. Nesta and Cassian are both warriors so their stories connected well. How is Az going to help Elain with her visions when his power is shadows? He can't see the future (though Lucien was mentioned as sensing Cassian's arrival before Cassian even knocked). How is Az going to help Elain if her power is life when he's "death"? The crumbs Sarah has left for Elain's future journey align perfectly with the crumbs she's left for Lucien's. Elain's (seeming) current disinterest in Lucien really means nothing when their plots seem to be heading in the same direction. Forced proximity is sort of an SJM specialty. As far as what Az wants, I don't really know. A mate seems the most obvious answer. To feel like he belongs but that's a him problem since the IC clearly loves him. I don't get the sense Az has any interest in hopping around playing courtier, brokering peace, and visiting the flower fields however, though those are things perfectly aligned with both Elain and Lucien's characters.

[a-constant-gay-panic]

Could you do a Rodrick fanfic with a Fem!reader when Rodrick and the reader are dating and they get into an arguement then like resolve it and cuddle or smth or resolve and have sex I honestly don’t care

Forever

masterlist 

pairing: rodrick heffley x fem!reader 

summary: you and rodrick have been dating for a little over a year. everything was going perfectly until a small disagreement turned to something much bigger and he, in the heat of the moment, brings up a rather sensitive topic for you. 

warnings: swearing, mentions of a dead parent, couple dispute, pretty heavy jealousy, fluffy ending

word count: 1.6k 

a/n: sorry this took so long to get to anon :( i decided to do a more fluffy ending cause i personally don't like resolving issues with sex yk? cuddles seem more meaningful imo. hope that's alright and meets your standards! enjoy my love <3 

(kinda gives off very toxic vibes during the argument... totally not based off a similar experience i had-) 

— — — — — X — — — — — 

you're laying on your bed, music boarding in your ears as emotions wash over you. it's dark outside and the clock next to your bed reads 2:47, a constant reminder that you need to go back to sleep. 

anger, pain, betrayal, guilt… these feelings seemingly drown you as your thoughts run wild, getting the better of you in this fragile moment. 

you want to stop it. stop the feelings which plague every corner of your mind. you wish you could forget about it all and leave it behind but you can't. every thought is about him. the words which he said. 

tears run down your face as you hug your pillow to your chest, hoping to take the edge off the pain. 

usually you'd be phoning or running to rodrick, your boyfriend, in order to get away but you can't this time. not when he's one of the reasons you're in such a state. 

— 

“just forget it!” he screams. you scoff at his words. “forget it? forget it?! how the hell am i supposed to forget it?” 

he rolls his eyes. “easy! just don't think anything of it! problem solved!” 

“oh yeah, cause it's that easy, isn't it?!” you're becoming more and more agitated as time passes, not comprehending how he can think so little of it. 

“yes it is! nothing happened so leave it!” his hands come up to his hair, tugging at the roots. 

“as if that makes it any better! did you not see the way she was looking at you!” you're in shock at how dense he can be. 

he shakes his head, “no 'cause she wasn't looking at me like anything!” sarcastic laughter bubbles from your lips as you process his words. “oh really? that's not what it looked like to me! the worst is that you entertained it! you always entertain her little games with you!” 

“i wasn't entertaining her for god's sake! just stop it already!” he sighs in annoyance. “oh well i'm so sorry if the sight of some chick all over my boyfriend upsets me!” you roll your eyes at him. 

“i said just leave it!” he shouts. “no! you refuse to talk about it and-” 

before you can finish your sentence, he's cutting you off. “stop obsessing over it! you do this all the time!” 

you frown in confusion. “the hell do you mean ‘all the time’? this is the first time i've said anything!” 

“you obsess over everything, y/n! if it's not me and our relationship it's your grades, your image, your mother! honestly, get over it all already!” 

you stand in silence, his words hitting you like a truck. his eyes widen in shock realising what he's just said, not meaning for those words to slip out. 

he takes an apologetic step towards you but you back away from him as tears start to blur your vision. “y/n…” he whispers. 

“no… don't even bother.” you shake your head as he reaches a hand out. 

“i didn't mean-” he starts. “don't… don't say anything else…” you stutter, tears escaping your eyes. 

you quickly grab your bag and push past him, not giving him the chance to grab your arm or apologise. flying down the stairs of his house, you make your way to the front door and open it in a rush. 

“y/n!” you hear him call as he chases after you. you step out the house and close the front door, slamming it behind you. 

soon enough, the calls of your name are clear again as he's opening the door and running after you. “please…” he desperately says as he walks backwards in front of you, not letting you get away. 

“please what? you've said enough rodrick.” you say simply as you speed up and walk around him. “just…” you start, slowing down to look at him. “just…?” he urges. 

you sigh in frustration, not knowing what to say. “nothing. just nothing. that was a real dick move and we both know it. goodbye rodrick.” you angrily walk away, heading to your house. 

he doesn't follow you, giving you a chance to cool down much to your relief. the walk home was intense, head filled with messy thoughts the entire time and you practically threw yourself on your bed when you closed your bedroom door behind you. 

‘what now…? was he right? do i obsess over things too much?’ 

you find yourself thinking to yourself, your stomach churning at the memory of rodricks words. 

a part of you agrees with him, admitting to yourself that you do tend to focus on specific things too much. especially when it comes to people you care about. that's the reason you obsess over your relationship with him and the reason you obsess over your mother's death. 

your mom meant a lot to you growing up and when she died, a part of you died. you found yourself thinking about her often despite how much it hurts. 

rodrick was always there for you when you drowned in the memories of her. he was always by your side and ready to pull you from your thoughts. maybe you had asked and expected too much. maybe that's why he brought it up, because he was tired of it.

she was taken away from you and you can't help the thought rodrick might be too. you ‘obsess’ over him and your relationship because you don't want to miss anything. you want to make the most out of life and your time with him.

‘i can't do this now…’ 

you think to yourself, the flood of thoughts making you tired. 

soon enough you drift off into darkness, dreams taking over your mind. dreams which soon make you jolt awake, tears streaming down your face and erratic breaths as you lay in your dark room, mind still swarming with his harsh words.

— 

you slow your breathing down, tears now drying on your face. 

the thought of him upsets you but instinctively, you look over at your phone on your night stand, hand itching to send him a message. to have him come and comfort you. 

you want someone to hold you. someone to take care of you in this moment but your stubbornness and pride get in the way. 

your silent debate is ended as a noise is heard from your window. 

you lift your head up but don't see anything, that is until a stone hits the glass again, making you groan in frustration as you immediately know who it is: rodrick. 

you roll over and wait, hoping he gets the hint to piss off. but of course, he doesn't. 

another rock bangs against the glass. then another and another. you huff in frustration and rip the covers off yourself, heading towards the window. 

you open it and peer outside, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and annoyance as you gaze down at your boyfriend. 

“y/n?” his voice calls up to you. “what do you want rodrick?” he visibly tenses at the harsh tone of your voice, knowing full well that he's fucked up. bad. 

he sighs, “can we talk?” “we're talking right now.” you reply simply. 

“no, i mean can we talk properly? face to face?” his words shake and he's almost pleading with you. you instinctively want to wrap your arms around him, body and mind yearning for his touch and the safety that comes with it. 

“fine.” you say after a while, walking away from your open window to sit down on your bed. a few moments later, rodricks head is peering into your room, having climbed the tree outside and grabbing onto the gutter to hoist himself into your bedroom. 

his eyes meet yours and his heart aches at the sight of you, red, puffy eyes and dried tears on your cheeks. 

“are you ok?” he worriedly asks, guilt bubbling inside him. “yeah, just had a bad dream.” you mutter, the half truth falling flat. 

your body tenses as you feel his arms around you but as soon as you inhale the familiar scent of him, you relax, twisting in his arms to bury your face in his shirt. 

his hand rubs circles onto your back as more silent tears brim in your eyes, soon spilling over. 

“shh, i'm here for you, ok? i'll always be here for you. i'm so sorry about what i said. i didn't mean any of it, alright? i was just in a pissy mood and i know that's no excuse but i swear i didn't mean anything. you don't obsess over things and you were right, it was a real dick move on my side and i know you probably need a lot more time but i just wanted to check on you and let you know-” 

you press your lips to his in an attempt to hush his rambling. it works and he smiles into the kiss, hand coming up to gently rest on your face. 

“i'm sorry too. i overreacted and blamed you. i was a bitch to you and-” now it's his turn to cut you off as he kisses you once more. 

“there's nothing you have to be sorry about.” he smiles sadly, “i'm the one who messed up and needs to ask for forgiveness.”

“there's nothing to forgive.” you say, leaning backwards and pulling rodrick with you. 

you lay comfortably in his arms and he kisses the top of your head. 

“i love you. so fucking much.” he whispers into the dark room a few moments later, arms tightening around you. 

lifting your head up to place a tender kiss on his cheek, you mutter, “i love you too.”

“forever?”

“forever.”  

— — — — — X — — — — — 

[cannibalovers]

yo another will analysis song (cuz i'm crazy over him and my music taste fits his situation the most i think)

Hannibal song of the day: song no.3

a bit about the song (and album) :

"Underneath it all"(released in 1999) is a song by Nine Inch Nails (my fav band ever i swear i can talk about them for hours sorry). It was written by the frontman of the group, Trent Reznor. It's a part of "The Fragile" album, a quite important album for Reznor's career. "The Fragile" (banger) is a concept album, based on a man known as "mr. self destruct" and is a sequel to "The Downward Spiral"(another banger), dealing with personal issues, including depression, angst, and drug abuse - attempting to find order in chaos and find their way out, but ultimately, failing. "Underneath it all" fits the industrial rock and alternative rock genre, including scratchy synthesisers and distorted guitars and harsh beats, combined with soft vocals that build up to be louder and harsher. The instrumental build up on itself, looping and stuttering. The song talks about trying to move on from a hurtful situation but feeling "stained", the pain and trauma and it's effects it had on the man not going away, no matter what extremes he takes.

I could honestly talk about The Fragile for hours just on its own, it's so vulnurable and angry and it's history makes me so fucking sad, considering how much shit Trent was going through(substance abuse, depression, anxiety, death of his grandma who raised him), but this is a hannibal centered post so. I think the song can fit Will pretty well considering his mindset and feelings by the end of season 1 + prison, not much today cuz its so straight forward

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

chorus + verse since it's quite short and repetitive

"All I do, I can still feel you (x5)

Numb all through, I can still feel you

Hear your call, underneath it all

Kill my brain, yet you still remain

Crucified, after all I've died

After all I've tried, you are still inside

All I do, I can still feel you(x4)"

the narrator feels plagued, stained, he can't get rid of whatever he is trying to get rid of. The impact the subject had on him was so big that the memories of it and erasure just feels impossible, he feels hopeless, numb. When taking in the themes of the album into account, it's most likely about drugs - trying to recover, but the symptoms of withdrawal just being too intense, feeling like the addiction is punishing and mocking him for ever choosing drugs or even thinking that he can escape them - or it can even be about God. Trent explored the theme of religion in many songs like Heresy or Terrible Lie, blaming God for everything that is happening to him and for causing suffering, yet still coming back, never forgetting him, switching between heretic and devotional tendencies back and forth. He's just so rooted into his mind that it's impossible to not come back, no matter how much he tries to change his faith, maybe even feeling judged and punished by God for his choices.

Whichever one it is, Mr. Self destruct feels hopeless, as his oppressor has become so powerful that it has become a part of his mind, starting to haunt him and latch onto them, almost like a leech. He has tried everything, kill his brain (end it all) or even crucifying (most likely referring to trying to repent for his sins or give up his unhealthy lifestyle and mindset, crucifying them) and yet the little voice in his head still remains present, taunting him.

That's what Will seems to feel like, like Hannibal plagued him with a disease of his own, making Will lose his own mind, identity and sanity in the process - he is becoming him and he can't get rid of him or stop it. Will admits in the series that he keeps hearing Lecter in his head, his head voice sounding like his and even started to think like him, not to mention the various visions where Will grows antlers just like wendigo, as well as once and for all, Will got reborn as wendigo, finalising his transformation. Hannibal has officially stained him and made him what he wanted Will to be.

The way the song builds up, the layers becoming noiser and gritter as well as the vocals louder and more desperate just ties the overwhelming feeling together.

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

Outro

"All I do, I can still feel you(x2)

(You remain, I am stained)"

the song suddenly drops, stuttering instead, becoming weaker and weaker, which to me represents giving up. The narrator gives up and accepts the fact that the oppressor remains and that he will forever be changed and affected by what has been done to him.

In the show, Will didn't exactly want to accept that, but I guess through his method of manipulating Hannibal back, he has just reinforced Hannibal's effects on him, making Will become Hannibal, he has been stained and can't do anything about it - although he seems to accept his faith and even lets him remain in his life (literally came back for him like damn...tiny bit gay if u ask me).

additional notes :

i couldn't recommend to listen to the fragile more, if you enjoy harsh noises, electronic, rock and industrial sounds and ambience sound, lots of layers and build ups and instrumental and absolute emotional damage then i recommend. this album is so dear to me its insane

my playlist

hope u enjoyed <3

[prythiansfavoritefox]

10 (Elain)

"I'm done waiting for you, Elain," Lucien whispered. "I implore you to tell me whether you wish for this bond or not. Should you reject it, I shall leave you alone and be on my way. Otherwise..."

Elain took a deep breath. It was so hard to control her emotions when he came near her. She cursed the mating bond for making her lose control over her very senses. "I just need time."

Elain watched Lucien's lips twitch downward, his hands flex against his sides, his eyes glow, one turning a simmering auburn while the other turned bright as the sun, felt the temperature heat as his own emotions surfaced, no doubt. "How long?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly, seeming as if he were barely controlling his emotions.

Elain shook her head. "I don't know." Lucien laughed bitterly. He bowed so low that his nose nearly grazed the floor. "Forgive me. I forgot I was in the presence of a busy princess," he drawled. "You have far better things to do than speak to me, right?"

Anger sparked in Elain's chest at his mocking tone. "I'm sorry that I didn't immediately fall into your arms and agree to be yours forever! I was engaged. I was in love. I had a life back in the human lands. And since then I've been plagued by the Cauldron and all the memories. The visions too. But you don't care."

Lucien answered in a voice of forced calm. "You think you're the only one who had a life?"

Elain blinked at Lucien. "I-what?"

Lucien bent down to get on eye-level with Elain; nearly nose-to-nose, there was no escape from her mate's heartbreaking beauty. "What? Did you think that I sat around for centuries, waiting my whole life for my one true love, my mate, to come around and make me happy?"

Elain opened her mouth and closed it. "Rhysand waited," she said weakly. At least according to what Feyre had told her. But she wasn't sure how reliable that information was. She just longed to contradict Lucien in any way possible.

Lucien rolled his eyes so hard that Elain thought his irises would disappear into the back of his head. "If you bought that load of horseshit the inner circle fed you, then you're not as intelligent as I thought you are."

Elain crossed her arms, glaring at Lucien, though it was hard to do so at such a near distance. "And I suppose you're so intelligent and well-informed?"

Lucien's mouth curved into a smirk. "Elain, I'm a courtier and a High Lord's son. I've been to every court in Prythian and have friends everywhere too. There is very little that escapes my notice, I can assure you." Elain scowled at Lucien. Insufferable man. He had entirely too high an opinion of himself, clearly. She longed to take his ego down a peg or two. "Why don't you put your money where your mouth is? If you're so certain Rhysand has been in a relationship with somebody before Feyre, who was he with, then?"

Lucien chuckled. "Easy. Tamlin."

Elain gaped. "Tamlin? But..."

"Yes, they were a lot more than friends," Lucien said, snorting at Elain's stunned expression. "Tamlin and Rhysand are into males and females. Rhysand was deeply in love with Tamlin centuries before they ever met Feyre."

Elain swallowed. He spoke with such conviction, and he was friends with Tamlin for so long...it was hard to contradict him when she herself was clueless on Prythian. She sighed in frustration. "Are you? Into both?" she blurted before she cursed herself for her impulsiveness and curiosity.

Lucien raised a brow, appraising her. Elain was about to tell him to forget about it when he answered. "I've tried everything, but...no. I'm only attracted to women." He then turned around, heading toward the door.

"Wait!" Elain shouted, running after him. She grabbed his shoulder at the door. He turned towards her then, and Elain nearly begged him to kiss her right then and there. "What?"

Elain couldn't bring herself to meet his beautiful earnest eyes. So she spoke to the floor as she croaked, "I'm sorry I can't give you a proper answer right now."

Lucien made a noncommittal sound. "It is quite alright. A year and a half is of little consequences to faeries. But..." Elain lifted her eyes for a moment, seeing him struggling with something, before he just shook his head. "Good day, lady." Lucien closed the door, not looking back.

Not seeing Elain's outstretched arm right before the door, physical evidence of how much she longed for him. Although she liked to blame the mating bond for any longing and desire she felt for the man, deep down she knew it was a lot more than that. He was so patient and gentle and fiercely protective and cunning and snarky and and and...

Elain rushed to her bathroom and turned on the sink, splashing water on her face. It wasn't enough; her skin was hot and throbbing all over. She hastily stripped and jumped in the shower, turning the knob to the coldest setting. She shivered as the icy water flowed down her hair and skin, praying that it would be enough to get the thoughts of her Lucien out of her head.

[bonefall]

Why did bluestar give away her kits if she knew they were the solution (so to speak)? If she knows Thistleclaw is gonna be a tyrant via prophecy why doesn't she speak up? Is Goosefeather still plagued by The Visions? I mean iirc Goosefeather could see the future by touching someone, why didn't Thunderclan see this as a huge bonus?

Why did Bonefall Bluestar give up her kits if they were destined to defeat Thistleclaw all along?

Because they are her children, and she is their mother.

Stand back as they grow up in a hardened Clan, accused of being halfclan? As Thistleclaw causes the people she loves to get torn into shreds in bloody battle disputes? How many bodies will she bury before Mosslight prevails?

Mosslight is the hero of destiny, but what of her other two children? Will they die before seeing Thistleclaw dethroned? She looks to the future and imagines what the Clan will look like by the time it's saved, and no matter what she envisions... it's not the ThunderClan she loves.

For Rosetail and Thrushpelt who deserve long and peaceful lives, for her Forget-me-Nots in the Clans who would find war waged against them, for her children threatened to suffer for the sake of some ridiculous prophecy, she would pull the moon from the night sky so Thistlestar can't reach the sun.

If she knows Thistleclaw is gonna be a tyrant via prophecy why doesn't she speak up?

Goosefeather is committed to carrying out his visions to the letter. His own sister Moonflower was fated to die in a raid, and he obeyed. He knew from the offset that the WindClan raid was pointless and commanded it anyway.

So how would Bluestar even go about that? Goosefeather wants Thistlestar. She's lucky she's Sunstar's apprentice, and she's even luckier that she's Tawnyspot's son's best friend. How would it look if she started raving that Thistleclaw would be a tyrant, like a lunatic?

She has to be careful, and she can't sound the alarm because there isn't one.

Is Goosefeather still plagued by The Visions?

Yes, but he is dedicated to them. Like an elephant calf with a stake in the ground, Goosefeather learned his lesson about defying fate during the Great Hunger. He firmly believes it only causes more heartache and pain.

The truth about these visions that they aren't always commands. They're just glimpses into the predetermined future. StarClan doesn't necessarily want these things to pass, they just... do.

After Mosskit dies in the snow and Bluestar assumes power, the thread of fate is so shredded that the visions halt. What was a powerful river is now a delta of branching choices, a thousand paths and Goosefeather can never again tell where they will flow.

...This is upsetting, to him. He spent his whole life carrying out visions of the future, got his sister killed, dedicated himself to putting a tyrant into power, and Bluestar broke it. Just, casually shattered it. After everything. After every pain he'd been through.

What was an inevitability to him was a choice for her. That is extremely painful. I don't think he really recovers from it, dying shortly after.

The last appearance I have planned for him is by voting to save Bluestar during her StarClan trial, one of the few that are committed to this. It offers a glimpse of hope that people's minds can change, even though her odds don't look good in the beginning.

(this trail ends up going so well for Bluestar that Thistleclaw and many of his supporters leave heaven in anger.)

[kittyball23]

Reunion (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: When the rescue mission fails, Branch gets imprisoned by his brother’s captors… and is also able to reunite with Floyd himself

__________________________________________

It’d finally happened.

Branch had finally come to reunite with all of his brothers after so long, though the circumstances had not at all been what he had fathomed. Well, to be fair, he hadn’t really fathomed much of a reunion in his mind at all. In fact, he hadn’t pictured any reunion ever happening. But fate had other plans, and he had indeed come to reunite with John Dory, Spruce, and Clay all over again. And he’d thought he’d been surprised with each one of his brother’s he’d met up with thus far, taken aback by how much they’d changed (or in some respects how much they hadn’t) from their old ways. But nothing could compare to the blow that he’d received when he was shut within the diamond imprisonment.

"You can't get away with this!" Branch had gasped moments before, writhing and struggling terribly in the steadfast grip of the strange, glammed, doll-like creature who had him in her grasp and refused to let go.

"Oh, yes we can! And we kinda already have," the creature, Velvet as she was called, sneered. "So why don't you just shut  your trap till we need it, ay? Gotta save your singing voice, after all!" For extra measure, she’d lifted Branch up to her face, pressed her nose into his hair and took a quick whiff. Then, she’d tilted her head back and belted out a strong C note. "All right! That's what I'm talking about!" She turned to her brother, Veneer, who was just as equally glammed-up as her. "I'm calling dibs on the blue one."

"But you already called dibs on the pink one!" he’d whined.

"Who cares, they can both sing!" Velvet argued.

"Yeah, but that one sings better!" Veneer had shot back.

The siblings had continued to argue, ignoring Branch's shouts, and then throwing him into their dreadful crystal.

"Now stay there, like a good Troll. And who knows – maybe we'll become good friends!" Velvet had to laugh at her statement, prompting her brother to laugh along with her and forget all about their little quarrel. At least for a minute. Because in the next minute, they picked up right where they'd left off, debating on who would be using what Troll as their singing devices.

Now in the present moment stuck within the crystal, Branch banged on the shiny glass-like dome with all his might, but was ultimately unable to break through to freedom.

"It's no use... I already tried..."

The sudden voice startled Branch and he gave a short yelp, whirling around. The blue Troll had to adjust his eyes to all the shiny reflections, but they finally landed on a figure a few steps away from him. He cowered, a little frightened at Branch's reflexes. Branch squinted at him, and was hardly able to believe it when he realized who this Troll was.

"Fl-Floyd?" Branch whispered.

The Troll's eyes shone. He looked like he had much to say, and that much of it was all trapped inside of him. But he only replied with a simple, breathless “Yeah…” A weak smile played on his lips, but even that faltered, and soon disappeared entirely to a flat, expressionless line.

Somewhere in Floyd’s mind, he felt frustrated at himself. Something as simple as a smile couldn’t even be maintained on his face – how else was he supposed to show his gratitude for Branch being there? But that soon was overtaken by the lightheaded feeling that continued to plague at him, blurring his vision, making him feel like he could do barely so much as twitch a finger without it being an enormous amount of effort. His thoughts were consumed by the aching sense of tiredness that racked his whole body, so much that he couldn’t even bother to wonder what was happening to him anymore, and what was to even become of him if he continued like this.

But that didn’t mean that Branch couldn’t wonder.

And wonder he most certainly did.

Branch was horrified at the Troll who had just confirmed himself to be his brother.  The last time Branch seen him was in his youth as a teen. Sure, he expected him not to look identical to his past self, as his other brothers hadn't, but he would much rather have seen that than this. He could guess that Floyd was at least a good couple inches taller than him, but it was hard to tell with just how small he looked in that moment, somewhat crouched, shrunken back with fear in his eyes. Or, at least the one eye that he could see. His left was obscured with his hair, which had been styled to fall over his face to give it a sort of "emo"-ish look, as best as he could describe it. But that was not startling him the most. It was his color. Or, his lack thereof.

Floyd could always be picked out among their bunch from his bright magenta swoop of hair that was on his head. But now, the pinkish tone was barely there. It looked much more washed out, with a whiteness that now made up nearly its entire color had it not been for the faded magenta tips that were at the top of his hair and at the ends of the bangs that framed his face - the only reminder of its old, true colorful appearance. He COULD have dyed it, Branch reasoned, remembering how Clay’s yellow hair was no more, instead a brilliant lime-green. Though, Branch didn’t think that any kind of product was at work in this case. For even Floyd’s blue skin tone looked as though it were washed out, much more dull in its appearance than how Branch used to look in his own gray days. The color was sickly, and it combined with the exhaustion that was clearly encompassing the Troll made Floyd look far too weak to bear going on as he had been in the strange creatures’ clutches.

Goodness, Branch thought to himself. What did they do to you?

Suddenly, the reality of what was happening overwhelmed Branch. He was losing Floyd all over again. Except this time, his brother wouldn't be off somewhere on his own, living whatever life he had. If something wasn't done soon, Floyd might even die. He'd be erased from Branch’s life forever, without even the option to ever cross paths in life. Floyd would be gone, as gone as their grandmother was when she had been swiped away on that awful day by the Chef. And the fact that strange, awful creatures were the cause of this harm to his family again was making it an ugly replica of what had happened before. Even worse, too, the same thing was about to happen to him. He too was as trapped as his brother, a result of a failed plan to free Floyd, doomed to a fate like his, to go back to being colorless, to never see any of his friends again.

To never see Poppy again...

His heart clenched to think that he’d never be able to call her his wife, to live out a life that he’d envisioned, the two of them together, happy and loved. That was, if she even wanted to have been his wife. With the way she’d dismissed the idea of marriage, he couldn’t even be sure of that. But what he was sure of was what was happening to Floyd. His brother who, by the looks of it, could very well be ticking on a countdown clock to his death if Branch didn’t take action. But… what could he do, as trapped as he, with hardly any reasonable means of escape, save for the rest of his group who was who knows where? But then it hit him – and it involved no strenuous efforts to escape the diamond prison or break through its impossibly tough exterior.

He could use this precious time. Use it to right wrongs, and set things the way he’d longed for them to be.

As Branch hadn’t anticipated such a situation to ever come up, he was speechless, searching for the right words to say, and cursing himself for wasting the little time that seemed to be left. But as it turned out, he didn’t have to say anything, since Floyd was the first of the two to break the silence, speaking in the strained voice he’d had. And the question he asked was not one Branch expected.

“Is… is that m-my vest?” he stuttered.

“Huh?” At first, Branch was not sure what his brother was talking about. Floyd, for one, was not wearing a vest, or any article of clothing on his top. And what Branch had on was all his own. It’s not his fault, Branch thought. Whatever was happening to him could be making his mind more deluded, having him say things that weren’t all there. But Branch came to realize in a jolt of remembrance that it wasn’t Floyd not making sense. He was making perfect sense, in a way. Because when Branch took into consideration his brother’s line of sight, he had to look down at his leaf green vest and recall just why he had chosen such an outfit for his daily casualwear. It had made great camouflage in his gray days, for when he had to be extra vigilant of Bergens. But, even before he had been able to fully encompass the dangers that the Bergens once posed, there had been another reason he’d worn vests of this design. It had been Floyd’s parting gift to Branch, right before he walked out of his life. He’d slipped out of it, placing it in Branch’s small hands and telling him to keep it as a reminder. Back then, he’d thought it meant only as a reminder of Floyd himself. But as Branch grew up, he saw that he’d also meant it as a reminder of better, happier days as well. Because that was one of the vests that Floyd often had worn when the band was off-duty from the limelight, and could simply hang out and goof off among each other as young boys should.

Fingering the leaves, Branch shook his head. “Um… no, actually,” he mumbled. “I made this one. Kinda outgrew the other one…”

“Oh…” Floyd said, quietly, looking pensive. “Right… that makes sense. You are a lot bigger than the last time I saw you,” he said rather sheepishly.

Branch just shrugged awkwardly in a gesture of agreement. It was kind of a “duh” moment for him – what did Floyd expect when he had left him? Time was not frozen. Branch was not going to be a Trolling of a few centimeters, toddling about in diapers forever! But Branch couldn’t bring himself to point this out right now.

Floyd looked at him through glassy eyes, and Branch wondered if he was really seeing anything at all, with the way he blinked so slowly and seemed to stare so blankly. It was as though the cogs in his mind were rusty, unable to turn fast enough in response to any stimulus, let alone find a way to continue the conversation. So nothing came out of his slightly ajar mouth except for another, "Right... that makes sense."

Then, just as suddenly, the glassiness in Floyd’s eyes seemed to shift into something else, and it took Branch a second to realize that it was tears that had pooled in them. “Branch,” he whimpered, his bottom lip trembling and his voice shaky, “I’m so, so sorry…” A sob finally escaped him, and the Troll covered his face in shame, letting loose the tears.

Branch was not one to cry, at least, not in front of others when he could help it. It was a slip when Poppy had found him and his tear-stained face within his Grandmother’s old pod, just the previous day. But Branch was starting to feel himself waver, a hurt overtaking him at hearing how utterly broken - how completely defeated - his brother was, and he could feel a dampness overtake his own eyes.

“I’m an awful brother,” Floyd lamented with a sniffle. “I left you… I left Grandma… I-I really thought you guys would be fine, but… and n-now you’re in this mess because of me… and w-we’re not gonna…” He swallowed the great lump that had formed in his throat, but was too choked up to finish.

But Branch could, and he didn’t like where it’d been going.

We’re not gonna make it.

It seemed that Floyd had lost all hope. Despite knowing that John Dory had been making his best efforts along with the rallied brothers, time was just not on their side. Luck was not favoring their mission. Fortune was not smiling upon them. It almost felt like the more they strived for victory the harder the odds became. But Branch did not want to give up… not on them, at least. If this was to be the very last time they would be with each other, he didn’t want it to be so solemn. Bittersweet was okay, but not completely devoid of happiness.

So the blue Troll took a deep breath, and did the only thing he could do when simple words were not enough. He sang.

“I don't understand

Just why we can't be friends…

Things are getting out of hand

Trying too much, but brother, we can't win…”

Floyd raised his head slightly, timidly peeking at Branch from behind his bangs. There was a mystified expression on his face that Branch couldn’t pinpoint, until he realized that the reason for it was because Floyd had not heard him sing with his full voice - Only the small, childish one that he’d had when he was merely starting to get his groove on the stage with the rest of the band. Branch continued to sing to him, his voice getting richer and the notes flowing smoothly, its beautiful sound bouncing off the walls of the crystal dome and amplifying it.

“Let it go

And if you want it, just let me know

I’m down on my knees

I can't take it anymore…”

Branch had knelt down as he sang the second verse, scooting closer to Floyd’s side and extending his hand as a means to offer his friendship. Floyd did not hesitate in reaching out to grasp it - even though his motion was slowed due to the taxing effects he was undergoing - and Branch gave it a small squeeze, unnerved with the fact that his brother’s hand felt slightly limp within his and not so warm with lifeblood as it should be.

“It's tearin' up my heart when I'm with you

But when we are apart, I feel it too

And no matter what I do, I feel the pain

With or without you…”

The next verse was sung honestly. Branch’s woes were a double-edged sword – it tore him apart when he was there with Floyd, with so many years gone that could have been used to make even more precious, positive memories between them. And, needless to say, it definitely had torn him apart when they’d been separated.

“Brother, don't misunderstand

What I'm trying to tell ya

In the corner of my mind

And it feels like we're running out of time…”

Branch couldn’t be sure of it at first, but he soon heard Floyd’s gentle voice harmonize along. The Troll echoed back a couple of words to start with, but with the following verse was able to muster enough energy to sing the chorus.

“It's tearin' up my heart when I'm with you

But when we are apart, I feel it too

And no matter what I do, I feel the pain

With or without you…”

With the fadeout of the melody, silence fell among the brothers. Then…

“Floyd, I… I can’t say life was easy after you guys left,” Branch admitted in a hushed voice, “because it wasn’t. Not all of it, at least. And I really don’t know what’s gonna happen now, but… I, um… I just want you to know that I do forgive you. All of you,” he concluded, in reference to their other brothers as well.

A part of Branch felt like a hypocrite in making it so easy for Floyd when it came to making up. He’d given John Dory, Spruce, and Clay a hard time, letting them have an earful at first and not being open to their attempts at affection. But he had to remind himself that it was all for the sake of time. It was quite possible that Floyd could keel over any second, lose the sparkle of life in his eyes and be gone forever. Things had been on bad terms for too long. If Floyd was meant to pass on, then he could at the very least go in peace, knowing that Branch, the brother he was closest to and had wronged the most, was back on good terms again.

Floyd was glad to hear this. He let out a sigh of relief, and leaned into Branch’s shoulder, both as a means to support his exhausted self and to seek condolence. And it was that action that made Branch feel as though their roles had been reversed for once. There was plenty a time as kids when Floyd had been there for Branch to comfort him if he’d gotten a scraped knee, or was fearful of doing a performance, or was sad about having dropped his ice cream cone on the ground. This time, though Branch was the youngest brother of BroZone, he felt like he was the older one.

Next to him, Floyd had calmed down considerably, and was able to relax against Branch comfortably, closing his eyes and easing the tension he had worked up while fussing over the past. And Branch, who normally hadn't been quick to forgive and forget, did as his song had said and let it go.

There was only so much he could do, trapped in a diamond and wondering what fate could possibly await him and Floyd, but it felt good that one of those things was a solid reunion.

__________________________________________

A/N: Some folks have spotted Floyd wearing a leafy green vest in Trailer 2’s BroZone flashback, and the suspicion has been raised that maybe it was something that was passed down to Branch as a gift before he left. I like that idea too, so I applied it.

Also I’m cool with Poppy and Viva getting a little duet in the movie together (I think it’s called “It Takes Two”), but yeah, I kinda need a Floyd and Branch one too, and I would rather it be more slow and emotional instead of something like the Pop number that the sisters have. The song I ended up using for now is “Tearing Up My Heart” by NSYNC, with some tweaks to the lyrics :3

[corneliaavenue-ao3]

the road not taken looks real good now

Written for Several Sunlit Daylights! December 15: Folklore/Evermore. I chose Tis The Damn Season to inspire me.

You can read it also on AO3

Harry broke up with Ginny to protect her, not because he didn't love her anymore. Now they are under the same roof until he leaves to go find Horcruxes. Why can't they pretend for just the weekend that things are the way they once were?

Blood. There was so much blood. George’s blood. All it took was a missing ear.

Ginny had tried to aid her mum with healing her brother, but she was little to no help. She didn’t have medical training like her mum, and what little medicinal magic she knew was not helpful as she could not wave a wand legally.

The blood was caked underneath her fingernails as she did not have time to wash her hands until now. The drama of the evening took precedence over cleanliness. But now, everyone had gone their separate ways in mourning. Most of them had gone to bed, but Ginny found herself in the kitchen washing her hands raw; forcing herself to not wallow in the familiarity of rinsing the red dye of blood from her hands. Mad-Eye was dead. Mundungus was missing. George lost an ear. And Ginny had blood caked underneath her fingernails.

The running water of the faucet masked the sound of someone entering the kitchen.

“You know, the muggles are complaining that we are currently in a drought,” a voice said behind Ginny, startling her.

Harry always had a way of surprising her.

“I see you still are not planning on running out on us after we just got you here.”

“No, I decided I am not that stupid.”

“Well, I am glad you can see some reasoning.” Ginny said, turning off the faucet. Harry handed her the rag next to him for Ginny to dry off her hands.

Harry swayed awkwardly, almost like he suddenly realized he was alone in a room with his ex-girlfriend. “So how are you doing?”

Ginny snorted at his awkwardness.

Harry ran his hand through his hair, a nervous tic. “You’re right. Stupid question.”

Ginny tossed the rag in her hand on the counter. She felt like shite. Tonight was awful, all she could do was stand by and watch, worry, and wait. Being underage made her feel useless. One by one as each portkey came back with no one attached to it made her anxiety heighten, and yet she felt guilty for being worried about Harry the most. Guilty because George lost an ear, and she cared more about Harry’s safety. Guilty because Mad-Eye was dead, and all she wanted to do was to hold Harry because at least he was still alive.

But she couldn’t tell Harry that, at least not any more. “I’m exhausted,” is what she settled with.

“Yeah, it’s late.” Harry said, looking at the clock in the kitchen that actually told the time. “I should go to bed.” He gave Ginny a curt nod, and turned to go up the stairs.

Ginny did not know if it was the firewhiskey talking or the nerve she had lectured Harry about in the library so many moons ago, but she spoke up, not wanting Harry to leave yet.

“Wait.”

Harry stopped before he even reached the first step. Turning back to Ginny, but not walking any closer.

“I’m exhausted,” Ginny continued, “but I don’t think I could sleep.” A paused breath. “I don’t think I want to sleep.”

The creak of the floorboard was the only sound as Harry shifted his weight back and forth contemplating his next words. Ginny knew that he understood completely the nightmares that plagued both of them still. They had conversations about it late at night in the common room last Spring about the visions that would haunt him and the memories that scarred her.

“I don’t particularly want to sleep either,” Harry responded. He stood there frozen, the light from the stairs illuminating him from behind.

“Harry?” Ginny asked, barely above a whisper. “Can we just pretend?”

“Ginny-”

Ginny pressed on, not letting Harry interrupt. “Please, we can forget how shite everything is outside the wards and just pretend that everything is safe and okay right here.”

Harry moved so he was standing right over her. “Gin, I - there is nothing more I want to do than just forget everything that is going on out there, but you know I can’t.”

Ginny grabbed Harry’s arm, to keep him close, to prevent him from pulling away from her and building back up the walls she had just started to work back down. “Forget about what is out there for right now. What do you want, Harry?”

Using the hand that was not trapped by Ginny, Harry messed up his hair again. Harry made an effort to clear his throat, but he did not say anything. He also made no effort to leave. A lifetime passed between them before Harry said his next words. “You, Gin. I want you.”

Ginny sucked in her breath, not ready for his honesty. She was ready to keep fighting or even ready to let him go. Gently releasing the grip she had on Harry’s forearm, she moved her hand lower to intertwine her fingers with his.

“I just need a proper goodbye, something for you to remember me by.”

Harry didn’t even try to fight the grin that came across his face. “I don’t think I will be forgetting you anytime soon.”

Her brown eyes locked into his green. He needed to understand that she needed this from him. Just one last happy memory that she could hold onto for the rest of her life. “So for the next few days you are still here, we pretend that you didn’t break up with me and that I know you aren’t leaving. Call it even.”

“Ginny, if we do this, we need to be smart. I broke up with you, no one can know. I can’t see you getting hurt because of me.”

“You’re saving people thing is showing again.”

Harry just rolled his eyes with affection at her. “Gin, I am being serious.”

“So am I,” she countered.

“I’m not going to ask you to wait for me.”

“And I won’t ask you to stay.”

Harry leaned in towards her, nose to nose, Ginny could watch him as he counted the freckles on her face. In that moment there was an understanding that passed between them. Ginny was going to wait for him, and Harry wanted nothing more than to stay with her. “But we understand, that this,” Harry brushed a lock of Ginny’s hair behind her ear. Chills erupted down Ginny’s spine. “This is just between us, and then it’s over when I go.”

Ginny nodded in response, “No one has to know.”

Lips crashed against each other. Harry had one hand cupped against her cheek, the other in her long red hair, pulling Ginny in as close as possible. Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry’s waist holding him tight against her. The familiarity of being surrounded by Harry overwhelmed her. The taste of him against her lips. She could never get enough of him, but she was doing her hardest? to try. Not sure if she was going to be able to have him ever again.

Harry lifted Ginny up, and she took her cue to wrap her legs around his waist. Ginny moaned into Harry’s mouth. He felt like heaven pressed up next to her. Harry’s fingers worked their way under Ginny’s shirt, running along her back and brushing against her bra. Her hands got lost in his messy, black hair. Every sense was flooded with Harry. The feel of his hot hands on her toned abdomen, the intoxicating smell of the outdoors that followed him wherever he went, the taste of his mouth on hers, the way he breathlessly murmured her name between kisses. It was all too much, but never enough simultaneously. A creak in the staircase caused the pair to jump apart. Harry stared wide eyed at her, lips swollen, hair disheveled. They stood in complete silence waiting to see if they were seconds away from being caught. “Someone is probably using the bathroom,” Ginny guessed.

“Right.” Harry said, awkwardness slowly creeping back in. “We should go to bed just in case someone needs a late night snack.”

“Goodnight Harry,” Ginny said. She raised up on her toes and gave him a quick kiss before making her way up the stairs to her bedroom, leaving Harry standing alone in the kitchen.

_______

While Mrs. Weasley was working to keep Harry, Ron, and Hermione apart to prevent them from planning their trip, it was a great excuse for Harry to constantly be with Ginny. Chores like setting the table that only should have taken the pair a few minutes to complete suddenly would take hours.

Hermione wasn’t stupid. She could see the stolen glances between the pair during meals and could somehow hear the silent laughter shared in secret moments. She was smart enough to realize that it was no coincidence that Harry and Ginny were volunteering to work together to degnome the garden or clean up the chicken coop. But she was also smart enough to not say anything either. She just gave Ginny a look when she would enter her bedroom late at night with swollen lips and tousled hair.

“You know,” Hermione started late one night, “It is Harry’s birthday tomorrow. I can distract Ron for a little bit if you want to give Harry his present in private.”

Ginny had never been more thankful for her friendship with Hermione until that moment. They devised a plan to distract Ron for long enough that Harry could sneak away without it being suspicious.

The next morning, Ginny and Hermione made their way down to the kitchen table where Ron and Harry were already there. They were muttering under their breath to each other. They immediately stopped when they saw the girls enter the room. Harry looked up at Ginny, eyes immediately lighting up at the sight of her.

“Happy seventeenth, Harry!” Ginny said, taking the open seat next to him.

“Thanks, Ginny!” Harry replied just as brightly.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the pair as she placed her wrapped gift on the top of the pile of presents in front of Harry. “Open mine first!”

Harry took the time to unwrap his gifts. Eyes watering at the love the Weasley family had gifted him. The watch that once belonged to Fabian rested carefully on his wrist. The rest of his presents laid in front of him.

“Harry, I can take your presents upstairs and pack them for you.” Hermione offered. She turned to Ron, “Can you grab your underpants out of the wash and then help me pack the rest of your stuff, Ron?”

Ron spluttered into his breakfast. “It’s Harry’s stuff, why do I have to be the one to pack it?”

Hermione gave Ron a pointed look. “It’s his birthday today, don’t make him do that. Come on.” She grabbed Ron’s wrist and pulled him away from the kitchen. Right as they were leaving, Hermione turned back and gave Ginny a quick wink.

Ginny took her cue and turned to Harry who had just been abandoned by his best friends. She leaned in and kept her voice low to not be overheard by the Delecours sitting at the table, “I left your present in my room, if you want to follow me and get it real quick.”

Harry gave her a quizzical look, rising from the table and following her up the staircase. Ginny pushed open the door on the first-floor landing into her bedroom, and Harry followed her in.

Throughout the last few days, he had been with Ginny all over the Burrow, from having her pressed up behind the chicken coop to Ron’s bedroom when he was taking his night shower, but he had yet to be in her bedroom. Harry looked around appreciating the small, bright area.

Ginny grabbed his hand and looked steadily at him. “I struggled to think what to get you.”

Harry took a step closer to her, “You have given me more than enough these past few days.”

“Oh, I know.” Ginny smirked up at him, thinking about the way his hands felt exploring her body. “But I still thought you deserved a present. I wasn’t sure what would be useful since I don’t know what you are up to.” She took another step towards him.

“Ginny, you know I can’t tell you.”

“I wasn’t asking,” Ginny reassured.

Then she was kissing him, much like the times she had before in the past week. Urgency and heat between them. A blissful oblivion. She had pressed her hands underneath his shirt against the warmth of his back. He had one hand at her back and the other in her long hair. The feeling of Harry pressed into her was the realest thing she had felt in the entire world. She needed more of him. Without a second thought, she grabbed the bottom hem of her Holyhead Harpies t-shirt and flung it off over her head.

“Ginny, are you sure?” Harry asked, eyes searching hers for reassurance.

“If it’s okay with you, it’s okay with me.”

Harry crashed his lips back to hers, pushing Ginny towards her bed. Her shirt just a memory on the floor. Ginny’s knees hit the back of the bed where she tumbled down onto it, pulling Harry with her. The only time their lips broke contact was when Ginny pulled Harry’s shirt off of him.

Their hands and mouths explored parts of the other that they had not discovered together. Hands hot on each other’s bodies. Pleasant sounds escaping from both of their lips as they reached a gratifying high.

From somewhere millions of miles away, Ron’s voice broke through their trance. “Hermione for Merlin’s sake, we don’t need to start another load of my laundry. Also where the bloody hell is Harry?”

Catching the gaze of Harry above her, Ginny smiled up at him. “You should go before Ron comes barging in here.”

Harry returned her smile and gave her a quick kiss before getting off of her to find his clothes strewn around her bedroom. His hand reached for the knob, hesitating for just a moment. Ginny saw him pull his shoulders back, returning to sullen, stoic Harry, masking the real Harry. The Harry that only she had the privilege to see.

Her bed was much colder now that Harry no longer occupied it with her. Now that she had experienced fire, everything else felt cold. The frigid feeling froze Ginny as she realized this new bitterness would stick with her when Harry really left for good. Her throat started to close up and she succumbed to tears for the first time since Dumbledore’s funeral, since Harry decided to leave her. Since the bubble burst and the outside world of darkness surrounded her whole once again. She turned and sobbed into her pillow.

She was not sure how long she cried until she felt fingers running through her hair. For a moment, she thought maybe it was Harry. “Ginny, I’m so sorry.” Hermione’s soothing voice comforted her.

Ginny looked up at her friend. She was holding out her discarded t-shirt. Blushing, Ginny quickly put it on. “You have nothing to apologize for, Hermione.” She took a shaky breath, collecting herself, “I just realized that all three of you are leaving, and I’ll be alone.”

Hermione continued to soothe her. “You won’t be alone. You will have Luna and Neville at Hogwarts with you. Your family and members of the Order will also be there to help when they can,” Hermione’s soft voice assured her. “And Harry, he wouldn’t be leaving if he didn’t have to. I need you to understand that.” Ginny nodded. Hermione was the smartest witch of her age, but Ginny knew Harry in a way that Hermione never could. She understood his reasons why he broke up with her, and she understood his reasons why he agreed to be with her over these past few days. Ginny used the hem of her t-shirt to clean the snot under her nose. “Thank you, Hermione. I am good now.”

Hermione just gave her a skeptical look, but did not comment any further.

Ginny went on with the rest of her day as if nothing happened that morning. She did not have any other opportunities to see Harry alone throughout the day. Fleur kept her busy with last minute wedding planning. Her family celebrated Harry’s birthday until they were rudely interrupted by the Minister of Magic. Ron, Hermione, and Harry were once again singled out and brought to a separate room with the Minister, and Ginny was once again reminded how alone she was going to be.

After the Minister left, Harry shuffled his two best friends up the stairs without a second glance back at her. Ginny sighed. He hadn’t left yet, but he already started to slip through her fingers.

She helped her mum clean up the party quietly. Small pleasantries about the wedding tomorrow passed between them. Ginny excused herself after drying the last dish to the backyard.

Slowly she made her way to the back of the broomshed. She needed to be in the air. To let go of any negative thoughts rattling in her brain and just be free. Quickly mounting her broom, she surged into the late July air. Wind rushed through her ears, deafening her thoughts.

She lost track of how long she was in the air when she noticed a familiar figure standing in the grass. Slowly, Ginny circled her way down to him.

“Hi,” Harry said when she was within earshot.

Ginny floated above him, “Hello to yourself.”

“I saw you flying from Ron’s bedroom window, and I thought I would join you.”

“Do you want to fly?”

Harry shuffled back and forth, “I lost my broom the other night.”

“Hop on mine,” Ginny said, flying down so she was at Harry’s level.

Harry hesitated for a second before straddling the broom behind her. His warm arms slid around her waist to steady himself. Ginny leaned back into his chest for a moment, capturing the moment in her brain for a future happy memory. Then they were in the air. Harry tightened his grip on her after one risky turn, and Ginny just laughed with glee. Flying higher and higher circling the trees. Harry leaned forward, resting his chin on her shoulder, and Ginny almost jerked the handle of the broom up from the casual intimacy of it all.

Slowly they descended to the ground, landing behind the tall willow tree in the backyard.

Ginny took Harry’s hand and pulled him to the ground. They sat with their backs against the tree, facing away from the Burrow. “I can’t believe we never rode a broom together before,” Harry said, breaking the silence.

“I guess that is the consequence of not getting together until after Quidditch season is over,” Ginny replied softly.

Harry hummed in response.

“You don’t regret it, do you?” Ginny asked, her voice more childlike than she ever intended it to be.

He looked down at her, startled by her question. “Not at all.” He reassured her, lowering his lips to her forehead. “I just wish it were easy.”

Ginny understood exactly what he meant. That they could be kids. That they could be stupid and fly one broom together every evening. That tomorrow he could be Harry Potter and not some random redhead muggle pretending to be some long lost cousin. That tomorrow she could force him onto the dance floor and he could hold her close as he tried not to trip over his feet. That he was not being hunted by the darkest wizard of their time. She didn’t tell him she understood these things, because he knew she did.

“We can still pretend that it is.”

He smiled, shoulders relaxing, “You know, you’ve always known me the best.”

For the next several hours, they allowed themselves to be the kids they wished they were. Cracking jokes, sharing childhood stories, stealing kisses every now and then. One last moment of shared happiness.

Ginny went to bed with a smile on her face for the last time for the rest of the year.

The next morning was chaotic with last minute details that just had to be done. Ginny was abused with makeup and late dress alterations. She did not have one moment to catch her breath until she was walking down the aisle herself.

The wedding was beautiful. Fleur looked as elegant as ever and Bill looked so happy you could only focus on that and not the scars on his face. Dinner was served and the dance floor opened up. She danced the night away with her siblings and Luna. She kept looking over at the table her cousin Barney was sitting at. The stoic look that was so signature to Harry was painted across her cousin’s face.

Wedding bliss was interrupted by streaks of silver as a lynx formed in the center of the dance floor. The voice of Kinsley Shacklebolt echoed, “The ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.”

Chaos erupted around her. Witches and wizards disapparating with loud pops and screams of fear echoed in the air. She ignored her mum yelling at her to go hide inside instead pulling her wand out of her pocket scanning the crowd for the one person she needed to make sure was safe.

It didn’t take too long. Ron and Hermione were not discreet in their screams for Harry, running towards the random redhead muggle. She made eye contact with him. One last moment of understanding passed between them. Both silently begging the other to be safe. He gave her a nod before disapparating into the unknown.

Ginny could not focus on Harry, the only soul who knew her from the inside out, leaving any longer. Her own broken heart was no longer the focus. There was a war going on, and she was going to fight to make sure Tom Riddle could not ruin any more lives.

[the-bug-jar]

Memories

I wish I could forget the past, but it's still out there. One last piece. Him. Or what used to be him.

The Nanite Event took everything from me. My hometown, my parents, and him. All of it, gone in flames, become something I could no longer recognize. That day was years ago, but sometimes it will return in a nightmare. At first, just being back in that forest, where we were walking as the explosion shook the world, was enough to wake me up. But I've become too dull to it, I guess. I just relive it. No amount of lucid dreaming training was enough to make it stop.

In the forest, it's just us. Me and the dog. He was distinct with his all- white coat. It was something of a miracle I managed to get him, the pure whites go quickly. And a miracle in another way. Friends have always been hard to come by for me, and as it turned out, a pet was something that could help alleviate that loneliness. There were also times where he saw people who were out to hurt me when I wasn't in the sharpest state of mind. Needless to say, getting him was one of the rightest choices I'd ever made.

In the nightmare, we walk the same trail every time, that leads around in a nice circle. It was a nice getaway from the dark thoughts that were already plaguing me. Sometimes, there are problems you can't confide to anyone, they're just not equipped to answer those questions... Of course, this taste of peace didn't get to last.

One minute, the trees above are brimming with the colors of autumn. Reds, oranges and yellows. The next, they're much brighter and deadly. The shockwave from the explosion knocked us off our feet. I struck my head hitting the ground and lost my grip on the dog's leash that I was holding onto him by. I was too disoriented to recall what he did next. My head hurt like hell and my focus was stuck to the canopy that was now on fire. Slowly regathering myself, I took a moment to internally ask what was even happening. An invasion, or an accident? Well, it is an invasion of sorts.

It sinks into my stunned mind that staying in the dirt would get me burnt alive. So, as much as my body protests with sharp pain, I force myself back on my feet. My blurry vision starts to clear and I see the growing flames all around me, but not my dog. Screams echo through the woods in the distance. Screams of people and other things. We're all used to the raucous noises EVOs can make today, but no fiction can prepare someone for hearing them the first time. The noises, the blast, the flames and just an odd sensation in the air I couldn't explain at the time. Everything is so surreal, as if actually a dream, but pinching won't bring me out of this.

I call for the dog, more than once and at the top of my voice. I can't hear or see him. As much as I know that I needed to turn back, to get home before the flames consumed the forest, I can' just leave him. Apart from my parents, who live on the other side of town, he is all I have, really.

Ignoring my hurting joints, I search. Break away from the trail to climb the sloped earth, with the dead leaves crunching beneath me. Oh yes, death is everywhere. I call out my dog's name more. I call out for anybody. We passed a few other people before the explosion. I don't see another person in there, those few weren't anyone I knew... And I won't see them again.

But inching atop one hill, there he is. Well, what the nanites have made of him. There is still his white fur, but these splotches are all over his arms. Arms with claws like sickles. Arms attached to these giant shoulders of metal. Blue metal, accented in a dull gray. More of it encumbers his torso, his legs. Legs, he is standing upright. He was a large dog before, and now he is several times my size. And his eyes... He realizes I'm behind him and spins around. My eyes meet his. Red and bright and on a robotic face surrounded by a white sort of mane.

In that mane is the leash.

There on my knees, I stop and stare. I'm petrified and completely clueless of what to do, even with the fires. It didn't make sense, nothing is making any sense. I don't understand what he is or how it's even possible and it puts my mind in a gridlock. He doesn't say a word, doesn't make a sound. All he does was take a single step forward, and that's enough to snap me out of it. I have no idea what he is going to do next, and my instincts urge I shouldn't stick around to find out. I listen to them and back up, tumbling down the hill. Adrenaline kicks in and I'm bolting out the woods as best as my limping legs can carry me... Usually, that's where the nightmare stops before I wake up in sweat.

He probably didn't follow me. I never looked back, not until I was out of the forest and back on the sidewalks, but I was in no shape to outrun him. The fires never came too close to injure me, or cut off my route, but by the time I was back in town, that was one of the lesser of my worries. There were other monsters prowling the streets. Other people and animals who turned in the initial blast... But that's a whole story I still can't bring myself to tell. Not even now that Rex Salazar has cured the world and therapy for the Nanite Event is almost free these days.

Between that day and the worldwide cure, though, I knew the dog was still out there. Somehow, he found his way to that EVO land, Abysus. He was working for Van Kleiss, that man with the dark hair and golden arm who tried to threaten some world leaders at a conference, but failed. Honestly, I was more fixated on my dog, who was still out there and somehow talking, as seen in interviews on the news for that mess. What a menacing voice he has. Well, is he really mine anymore?

The knowing just made me even worse. I was still writhing over what I lost in the past, and seeing him didn't help. I tried to learn what I could about him online, but nothing. All I could do was try to keep him out of my swirling thoughts. Other thoughts were already lingering, like my missing parents. They disappeared during the explosion without a trace, and with all the other missing people during that time, their cases fell into neglect. I have my suspicions on what happened to them, and where they might have been taken to be 'dealt with', but... I don't want to believe it. I don't think I even want to know. Is that okay?

My condition was improving towards the end of the EVO era, as I came to call it. I was having that nightmare less and less. When I did learn all the EVOs had been cured, even those said to be incurable, it was like a weight slipped off my shoulders. I probably wouldn't see my dog again, but knowing he wasn't that thing, assuming he even still lived, brought some sort of closure to my pain. Pain from my past that was blown into pieces beyond repair. All I can do I sweep up the shards and start anew.

But no, it's never easy.

It was quiet evening in my dark apartment. I was on the couch, just browsing video feeds. Most of them were just dumb, but something stupid to laugh at was what I needed. And I was laughing, until a video about something in Hong Kong came on autoplay... And there he was. Not as a dog, but still an EVO. Lurking the nighttime streets with another of those Abysus EVOs, some green lizard thing with a club for a hand. Nobody knew what they were doing, apart from causing property damage. But that didn't concern me. What did was that somehow, he was still EVO. Somehow, he was still walking in that horrible form, a walking reminder of those days. That surreal feeling from the day in the burning forest came back and I went blank for a minute.

Then, I had one thing on my mind. Keep up on him the best I can. Book a flight to Hong Kong. Find some of those special weapons that are flooding the markets in that city. Find him. End this, no matter what needs to happen... And here I stand in this dim, dirty public bathroom, in some part of Hong Kong I didn't bother to check the map for. I've just been wandering the streets, really, on the offchance I actually run into him. But I doubt he wants to be on streets full of people, with whatever he's up to...

His name was Skoll. Such a stupid name, I know, but I liked it. They call him Biowulf now. Which are you more, Biowulf? Do you remember what you were before? Do you remember me? Or did the transformation blot out those days? Will I really have to put you down? As much as I think I'm ready to do that, after a bit more planning and preparation, could I actually bring myself to? Does it really have to be this way? Probably, but I have to wonder.

Does he wonder? Does he even know his old name? Does he even know my name anymore? Tristan Sunderland. The surname is a longshot but my first name, I feel like there's a chance. This plan, I don't really care if it's dangerous or not. I just want to close the book, so to say. Burn it, if I have to. I want to move on, but he stands in the way. I will find you, Biowulf. Skoll. And this time, I won't run.

[flowerbloom-arts]

Well howdy! I hope you know without you my mind wouldn't be this plagued with visions about the whole Muddler familia and every moomin character in general. Like none of my fixations lasted longer than my moomin one, and you're the one to blame

(and I mean this in the most affectionate way possible, if I have to tell you how inspiring and incredibly talented you are at art and giving me The Thoughts a hundred more times to make this very earth explode, you bet Muddler's ass I will, it's a promise)

My question is: Who is your favorite fictional antagonist of all time and why? Or Who is your favorite moomin OC of all time and why?

First of all: Good. (And thank you)

>:]

Second: Ooooo good questions!

There are ALOT of antagonists over the years, and so many of them fit so many different niches I enjoy that I can't simply pick one. Heck, I'm kinda blanking on a few just trying to come up with an answer. So I'm going to divide them into categories (sorry if most of these are Disney I'm sadly a big Disney fan at heart, I also may be forgetting a few things):

Evil family: Lady Tremaine (Cinderella), Mother Gothel (Tangled)

Both of these are evil non-bio mothers, I know, bug they're so realistically evil in their evil motherliness but in different ways.

Tremaine had a big case of cruel favoritism that upheld her 2 biological daughters over her step-daughter who she turned into their servant. She's a very terrifying and cunning force to be reckoned with and Cinderella 2 and 3 added alot to her character without taking away her fear factor which is difficult to find in other Disney sequels but they really nailed it with her.

Gothel needed a tight grip on her adopted daughter only for her personal gain and did everything in her power to keep it that way. She was such a charismatic character that you could see why Rapunzel saw her as a mother and how well she was able to trap her, not by fenced windows but by making her believe the world is no place for her (it's honestly terrifying to hear real mothers trying to say she really loved Rapunzel and she shouldn't have been villainized and killed but I digress). And Tangled: the Series added another layer of screwed up to her character with giving her Cassandra for a biological daughter and adding even more to how obsessed and self-centered she was.

Antagonist to friend: Teru (Mob Psycho 100), Clarabelle Cow (Mickey, Donald, Goofy and the Three Musketeers), Discord (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic)

Teru really added to the series' theme of Powers Not Making You Special by having Main Character syndrome and then getting sense knocked into him after getting beaten up and seeing the whole world from space. He's a silly guy with a very serious side and I loved watching him throughout.

Clarabelle was uhm. Haha. I liked her alot while watching the movie. The writers adding an antagonistic side to her you don't see elsewhere was such a fun choice and she was a joy to watch. I also was a HUGE Goofy x Clarabelle shipper (don't @ me they are my one Disney OTP) and lemme tell you when that love song came on it became my favorite part of the movie. So glad they ended up together.

My Little Pony had alot of good reformed antagonists throughout the series but I had to pick Discord just because he's the most fun guy out of any of them, his friendship with Fluttershy was so sweet (and I was a very low-key Fluttercord shipper) and so was their friendship arc, but also watching him still be a pain in the rump for the other characters was a treat everytime. Honorable MLP mentions I wanna include are: Sunset Shimmer, Starlight Glimmer, Trixie Lulamoon and Cheese Sandwich (although Cheese is a very minor one).

Friend to antagonist: Cassandra (Tangled: the Series)

Oh the fall she went through was so heartbreaking and her moon powers were so so sick. Her will-they-won't-they friendship with Rapunzel was very captivating and her whole Ball of Issues was great to watch. I rooted for her to come back to the light side so much and gaaahhhhh I loved her.

Flamboyant Villain: Hades (Disney's Hercules), Queen Chrysalis (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic)

Disney has sooooo many great flamboyant villains that are so unapologetically evil but I had to pick Hades because I had a Greek Mythology phase as a kid (despite Disney's Hades being an obvious misrepresentation of the guy) and his interactions with Megara and his henchmen were the most hilarious I've seen. I would also like to honorably mention Jafar and Ursula for this.

Queen Chrysalis was one of my blorbos back in my MLP phase I think, I even made a daughter OC for her and had this whole backstory formed that connected her and Cadence - she was just so fascinating to me and I loved her from start to end. My Day Aria was a banger I had on repeat and her voice effects were cool and her design was awesome and just aaaaaaa everything about her!!!! I don't CARE if you don't think some stuff about her doesn't make sense or was poorly written, she's masterfully written TO ME!!!!

Ok finally, second question:

I think my favorite Moomin OC has to be the Confounder just by virtue of having the most content out of all of mine? I think about Moominpappa's parents ALOT still and plan to make a comic about them in the near(er) future but as of now I have Connie in the top spot for alot of reasons.

[djemsostylist]

Having recently watched the Star Wars films again, I decided to also tackle the books again as well. I've read most of what Star Wars has to offer, but there are a few I haven't made it to and a few I feel like I don't appreciate the way I should.

I started with the novelization of The Phantom Menace by Terry Brooks, and I'll be honest when I say I didn't expect much. TPM as a movie was boring, and I figured the novel wouldn't be much better.

I was wrong. I was so wrong, in fact, that I'd say I highly recommend it. See, my chief problem with the prequels is a two-fold one: 1, George wrote a truly horrible story, and 2, George hired truly atrocious actors to be the leads. Ewan McGregor not withstanding, the actors he hired were barely able to handle the script he gave them, let alone bring something more to the characters.

Anakin's fall should be slow, steady, bit by bit and then all at once. He should be Anakin, of course, but he should also be Vader. Because that is the thing about Anakin--he was always Vader. He didn't have a nightmare once and wake up Vader, after having been a good man his whole life. Vader's selfishness, his single-mindedness, his fear, his fixations, his rage, and his desire for power and control were always a part of Anakin, as much as his supernatural ability with flying and machines and his visions of the future. Anakin could be kind, he could be selfless, he could be decent, but all of these aspects of Anakin were always entwined with Vader. And as time goes on, it becomes harder and harder to hide the Vader, to pull on Anakin's face and plaster on Anakin's smile and pretend that the fire that rages always is banked, is controlled, is not waiting to consume. So when he takes those final steps, when he kills Mace and kneels before Palpatine and takes the Temple, we should have seen it coming. Not because we've seen the original trilogy and we know that Anakin is Vader, but because we've seen the Vader in him all along. Because this was always how his story was going to end. He was always going to be Vader, forever.

The problem is that the movies don't really give us that, particularly in TPM. I think George sort of wanted to show this kid's super innocence, and it came across as grossly naïve and also almost cloyingly sweet. The Anakin we get in TPM has no hints of Vader, no darkness, no intensity, none of the vices which will plague him for a lifetime. He's sweet and innocent and pure, in a way that's almost annoying its earnestness. He has little to no agency in his own story--he isn't even a POV character. And Padme, who will one day become his future wife, views him with the same sort of feeling one would expect for a 14 year old girl and a precocious little moppet--she thinks he's cute and childish and that's about it. She likes him certainly, but so does everyone he encounters, because he's a caricature of childhood innocence and naivete. There's nothing to him.

Anakin in the novel comes across as older--I'd put him at 12-13, to the movie's 9. (The book does state that he is 9, but I teach 9 year olds--even an incredibly precocious one would not come across like Anakin). In this Anakin, we see shades of Vader. He lives in a constant state of hyper awareness of both his abilities (which he is fully aware of, unlike in the movie where he seems not to notice his skills at all), and he wrestles constantly with a gnawing fear of losing everything he loves. This Anakin is quiet and thoughtful, and though kind and outgoing, is also prone to fits of rage or moments of utter stillness. When Watto is screaming in his face, Anakin sort of checks out, blank faced and staring until Watto exhausts himself and forgets to scream, ostensibly because he knows that arguing is useless, but also because, I think, he isn't sure what will happen if he fights back. He dreams of a life in the stars, but he can't see a future without his mother. He knows that he has abilities others don't, and he knows enough to keep them to himself. He saves the life of a Tusken Raider in the desert because he feels its pain, but he also beats the shit out of a teenage Rodian (a young Greedo as it would happen) because he is mourning the loss of Padme.

And speaking of Padme, their relationship in this is intense. In the movie, Padme pays about as much attention to him as you would expect, given their age difference. It would be weird for her to be as immediately smitten and attached, and likewise Anakin's interest in her seems childish and unremarkable.

In the story, their connection and mutual interest is instant and intense. From the moment they first meet in the junkshop, they are almost always together, and Padme is as fascinated and drawn to him as he is to her. (Which, coincidentally, fits much better if she is 14 and he is only a little younger). They spend all their time together, and are often lost in deep conversations. Anakin can't stop thinking about her, and she doesn't seem to mind when he holds her hand or tells her that he is going to marry her someday (with a flash of foresight). He sees visions of her in his future, leading an army, older and sadder. She seems to have difficulty leaving him (when she climbs on the Eopi to leave, she doesn't make eye contact and refuses to look back) and Anakin is devastated by her loss. He ends up beating the shit out of Greedo for an unrelated offence, and doesn't even seem to realize what he's doing until Qui-Gon shows up to pull him off.

Later, when he finds out the truth about Padme being the queen, she goes out of her way to find him and make sure he still feels the same about her as he did before. She promises him, on the ship when he gives her the Japor carving, that she will never forget him, the way way she feels about him--even makes a callback to his assertion that they will one day be married.

And this works. It works in a way the movie doesn't, because you get these two people who are both more mature, more grounded than anyone else their age, and they immediately share this intense, overwhelming bond that sort of takes both of them by surprise. It makes sense then, why, meeting years later, they are just as instantly drawn back together.

(In my version of the Clones, with an exaggerated timeline, Anakin and Padme would be on Naboo for close to a year, carefully working to bring about an end to the blockade and invasion, Anakin being trained by Qui-Gon on the dl, and they'd grow ever closer. I'd probably even have their first kiss maybe, during this time--she'd be almost 15, he'd be almost 14 (assuming he's almost 13 when we meet him), and this would enforce their bond.)

My point it, that in the novel, Anakin is intense, smart, deeply connected to the Force, and already aware of his abilities, though not in control of them or truly aware of what they mean. He is kind and thoughtful, but he is also prone to rage and fear, and he struggles with both. He is already terrified of loss, and he struggle with it throughout the novel itself. He also has the intensity that Vader has, the fixation--he's obsessed with Padme from the moment he meets her, and though his obsession is reciprocated, it doesn't make it any less intense. The Jedi, too, are concerned about his rage issues in a way the movie doesn't make clear--so much so that in the book they not only defer making a decision about his training on Coruscant, they expressly forbid Qui-Gon from training him. It's the rage as well as the fear that give them pause.

Overall, the novel sets up an Anakin (and a Padme really) that are believable for the people who they will become. There is an obvious through-line from Anakin to Vader, and it makes for a more cohesive character overall. And having Padme be just as drawn to him from the beginning also helps--their relationship has never been sane or healthy, and that is the point. Two early teens sharing an intense bond that only strengthens with time makes a lot more sense than randomly falling in love with the weird teenager you first met a cherubic child.

I'm curious to pay attention the through lines of this as the novels go on. Up next: Rogue Planet and then The Approaching Storm. (collecting all the novels year ago really was a stroke of genius).

[malachitezmeyka]

My sleep schedule's a bit messed up after a week of holiday and I can't fall asleep at a reasonable time while at my grandma's, so obviously I'm once again being plagued by my favourite kind of brain rot

Currently thinking about how there must have been a small moment of peace, a few weeks maybe, before Zaheer's breakout starts having major consequences but after Kuviren figure their shit out and everyone warms up to each other, where the Kids can relax and take a breather and act like the teenagers they never got to be

Because yes, I'm standing by what I said, none of the kids ever got to be actual teenagers:

Suiren had to grow up quickly after the loss of her parents. Her whole childhood was spent taking the brunt of Haya's violence, always aching, always hungry, with no one to turn to. The world's not fair, she learned quickly. You've got to help yourself because no one else will. You have to get Midori out of here. She trained herself not to cry, not to need as much food, not to require comfort. As she entered her teens, her childhood self had already starved to death. By the time she turned 13, she was already weary and burdened and exhausted, with no hopes for the future. By 15 she dropped out of school, and her only friends all that time were her sister and her moose lion. She can't think of anything but protecting Midori. No job in Gaoling will take her, deterred by her lack of schooling, her swamp heritage and what Haya had said about her. But money has to be earned somehow. Most girls like her end up in brothels, but she knows her prodigious waterbending skills could be put to a different use. By 17 she's an assassin, spending hours in the shower trying to scrub away the blood that is no longer there, focusing on nothing but the next mission, slicing the throats of those young girls with sparkling golden brown eyes that sometimes show up in the corners of her vision. The supposed carefree teenage years that she was owed are now way beyond her understanding.

Midori is not as weighed down with the weight of the world as Suiren, but she had her youth stolen as a consequence of what happened at the South Pole all those years ago too. Her trauma – Haya yelling at her for the slightest mistake, always calling her a useless child, calling her weak and a whiny brat for showing emotions natural to any child in her situation – left her extremely anxious, so quiet it's very easy to forget she's even there. Children are meant to be seen and not heard. And then there's the guilt, knowing full well her sister skips meals for her, takes punishments for her, endures beatings for her, no matter how hard Suiren tries to hide it. Midori hit puberty already wishing she was never born, maybe then Suiren's burden would have been alleviated. All of that in turn made it impossible for her to make friends, not to mention everyone knowing that her sister is the swamp freak, and their aunt's endless list of chores practically kept her chained at the house so she couldn't go out even if she had the chance to. She spent her 17th birthday fully aware her parents are out there, and allowed herself a childish hope that they'll be reunited, just like she always wished for thirteen long, horrible years. But her parents were killed within weeks afterwards. The day they got the news of their demise was the day she knew there was no going back. The day she knew that she was now an adult.

Bolin was protected by Mako for most of his life, ever since his parents were murdered when he was six, but even with his brother always looking out for him, what kind of childhood is living on the streets, running errands for triads? Still, out of the hundreds of homeless children in Republic City, he and Mako are the lucky ones, they were discovered and taken in by that probending trainer. But nothing in Republic City comes for free, and the two of them just so happen to make up two thirds of a team. His early teenage years were, he realises now, wasted, training in probending all day, every day. They go out on the field in every match they can but are still barely getting enough in earnings to scrape by, and life is only bearable because they can stay unconditionally in that room above the arena. He adores probending, the love and attention from his fans, but more often than not wishes he was part of the groups of friends that come to watch the games instead. He meets Korra at 16 and within the year has to witness her almost die three times, and despite all that training he was near powerless to stop it. After that was all over, he enlisted in Kuvira's army at 17, trying to get rid of that feeling of helplessness by deciding to help fix the mess created in the world during that year. But a soldier cannot be a child, and a child cannot be a soldier.

Kuvira's childhood ended the day her parents abandoned her at Suyin's front gate and never looked back, leaving her with nothing but the clothes on her back and a small sack of belongings. All for sometimes acting out, a result of them never paying her any attention as well as her possessing stronger bending than she could handle. It was easier to label her a problem child and get rid of her than to realise the cause of the issue. Suyin was different from her parents, extremely impressed by Kuvira's bending skills, to the point she made her her protege, and Kuvira, so unused to the praise, threw herself headfirst into making Suyin proud. Bending, dancing, training... It took up all of her free time, but as long as she gained Suyin's approval, she found that she didn't care. What use would she have for that much free time anyway? She's 17 and already made captain of the Zaofu guard as well as named the best dancer in the troupe. Some say it's because she's Suyin's prized pupil, but no one can deny that her metalbending is outstanding. But she never has time to hang out with the girls from the dance team or her comrades from the guard, and she pretends it doesn't matter to her, but she secretly yearns for that feeling of belonging. She sacrificed her teenagehood to make Suyin proud, and after all of that, despite everything Kuvira did, Suyin still doesn't consider her a daughter.

Opal is easily the most privileged of the five, being born into one of the wealthiest Earth Kingdom families does come with its perks, after all. But those grand metal domes of her home city that opened like flowers every morning were nothing more than gilded cages to her. Once it became obvious she wasn't a bender, her mother lost interest, happy to let her do as she pleased as long as she upheld the family image. It doesn't matter what hobby she chooses, nothing she achieves will be enough to rectify that her lack of bending brought an end to the rather short-lived Beifong dynasty of strong earthbending women. But she has to focus on something. Baatar shares their father's love for engineering, Huan has his art, the twins are total momma's boys with their metalbending games, Opal has nothing and no one. Somehow, even while distracted, her mother managed to keep her close enough that Opal could never meet someone without their first impression of her being through her mother's lens. She turned to books to cope with the loneliness, always dreaming of a life away from Zaofu. She's freshly 17 when she got it, but what started as a dream come true quickly turned into a nightmare once the northern air temple was attacked by the Red Lotus. Her childhood innocence and belief in the good of the world died somewhere within that cave.

My point is, the five of them deserve to act like teenagers, to gain back what they lost. Let Suiren rebel, let Midori make friends, let Bolin have fun, let Kuvira relax, let Opal express herself, LET THEM BE KIDS

And I just love to imagine what they'd get up to in that moment of peace. Maybe they gather together, a bit away from the RL, and play dumb games like Fuck Marry Kill. Playing with Kuvira is always a challenge because she knows exactly which buttons to push, which is how she got Suiren to say, through gritted teeth and lots of cursing, that she'd marry Mako, because the other two options were Suyin and Unalaq and she's a distinguished lesbian and not fucking a man thank you very much.

Maybe they go out in the early hours of the morning and climb to the top of the rocks hiding the cabin from view to watch the sun rise over Republic City. Maybe their games of truth or dare get so intense you wouldn't want to be caught in the middle of one. Maybe while on supply runs one of them sneaks some alcohol, and they proceed to nearly kill Bolin when he suggests playing spin the bottle. Maybe they go skinny dipping in the lake. Maybe they find secluded spots to practice and figure out how their bending all works together. Maybe they try to figure out ways to hide the hickeys Suiren leaves on Kuvira. Maybe they make fun of how Green Opal become blushy messes near each other. Maybe if preserving secrecy and anonymity wasn't such a big concern they'd sneak off to attend festivals in small surrounding towns. Maybe after long days they collapse and sleep in one big pile together. And maybe the RL know full well what the five of them are doing, but given that they're anarchists and naturally lax with rules, they decide to just let them do what they want, all the while reminiscing on everything they got up to as teenagers.

The five of them are in their early to mid twenties and about to become the third generation of the Red Lotus setting out to try and change the world, hopefully with more success than their predecessors. But maybe, before they do, they'll get to act like dumb, careless teenagers like they were always meant to, just one last time.

[localsharkcryptid]

@thenaiads fucking GRABS YOU

Thank you for opening the door :)

So let me speed yap about Malzeno ecology real quick:

This guy, is Primordial Malzeno -

He's the 'original' form of Malzeno, specifically he's mainly noted for being a protector of all things! An elder dragon who lives near humans and actively protects them - garnering a whole mythos about him being this revered guardian in the past. He's fairly peaceful and doesn't even attack without being sufficiently provoked into it.

Then we have normal Malzeno, this beast -

Who is Primordial Malzeno but effectively fallen from grace. He's developed a symbiosis with these vampiric parasitic creatures known as Qurio and become something far more vicious. A bloodstained shadow of his former glory, and worst of all, no one really knows of Primordial Malzeno - it is a forgotten myth initially. All anyone knows is that the one cloaked in scarlet who is the seeming source of the parasitic force that plagues the land.

This all isn't of course 1 to 1 with Dream's character but there's enough story notes for me to be able to draw the connection and make something of this cause like HELLO? PHYSICAL DISPLAY OF HIS CORRUPTION?? OF BEING LOST TO HIS OWN OBSESSION WITH THE REVIVAL BOOK AND HOW IT'LL FIX EVERYTHING ALL WHILE DIGGING A DEEPER AND DEEPER HOLE THAT HE CAN'T EASILY RETURN FROM??? HE WAS ONCE TECHNICAL PROTECTOR OF THE SERVER CAUSE IT WAS HIS SERVER AND OH HOW HE'S FALLEN FROM GRACE, SUBJECT TO A HORRID KIND OF SYMBIOSIS- A GLIMPSE OF IMMORTALITY, THE REVIVAL BOOK THAT HOLDS UNFATHOMABLE POWER, BUT WAS IT WORTH THE COST OF LITERALLY LOOSING YOURSELF AND BECOMING SOMETHING ENTIRELY NEW? SOMETHING SO VICIOUS IT OVERSHADOWS THE MAN HE ONCE WAS- WHETHER HE LIKES IT OR NOT-

Additionally Primordial Malzeno lines up with Dream's fighting style, something with aggressive amounts of power yet also accuracy and control - something that is lost as time goes on due to the symbiosis it develops with the Qurio, and Dream similarly loses his own original fighting style as time goes on - becoming more vicious, more underhanded and brutal and eventually to something new entirely after the prison arc due to the damages done to him.

We also have the connection of how, over time Dream becomes just 'The Villain' to most of the server - his old self is forgotten and disregarded, in place of the image he purposely made for himself.

ALSO ALSO Primordial Malzeno does spend quite a while during its fight resisting the Qurio as well - it struggles against the symbiosis but inevitably succumbs without outside help... After all it's the only option... Sounds familiar to Dream- that's all I'm sayinggggg

THERES PROBABLY MORE IM FORGETTING BUT LIKE THE VISION

The Monster Hunter fixation is back and chat I may end up making yet another Dream AU cause well-

Malzeno lore goes hard and so does his design(s) and he feels c!Dream coded to me (Yes I will elaborate if prompted please someone ask me why he's dream coded I'm gnawing at the bit here)

[romanarose]

Hi ma’am, I’m not even sure if I can request things, and feel free to ignore this if I can’t (so sorry). But if you do take request, may I asked for a story where the reader sees mark attack/kill someone or something and gets scared of him? Where the reader avoids them like the plague until Steven breaks down one day on the door step or something? I dunno, sorry again if you don’t take request. Thanks for reading this, and feel free to change it up. Buh-bye, ma’am.

First off can I say im SO SORRY this has been in my ask for like. a month. more. I would like to blame it on school and work, but I can't. I just kept getting distracted with other fics and forgetting. BUT I love this idea!

My asks absolutly are open, it just might take me a min XD

Anyway, I took a little creative liberty with this. A lot of my fics deal with the man being protective of the reader/oc but I loved this idea bc it deals with what if it goes too far?

I'm terrible at names for one shots so

Nothing Alike

Marc Spector/Steven Grant/Jake Lockley x reader

Warnings: violence, blood, Marc Spector typical shenanigans, cat calling, street harassment

****************

“Babe come on! You can’t possibly look me in the fucking eye and tell me episode fucking III is your favorite Star Wars movie!” Marc Spector held your hand as you walked down the streets of the city, just coming home from the local theater’s special reshowing of Revenge of the Sith. 

“Oh I most definitely can, because it is!” You defended, giggling.

“Because of Obi-Wan?” Marc mimics Anakin in the movie. For someone who claimed to hate the prequels, he certainly knew a lot of lines.

You scoff “Oh please babe, you know damn well I like my men a little more dark and brooding” You leverage his hand to pull him closer, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Ah! So, you just like me because of your childhood crush on another murderer”

“Marc!” You stop him on the street. He looks apologetic, he knows what he did. “You know I don’t like it when you call yourself that.”

Marc opened his mouth to argue, but when he saw you looking so hurt, he couldn’t. You loved him and you thought the world of him, you, Steven and Jake somehow managed to see past the worst of him. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“You do, remind me of him.” You both of his hands, squeezing them tight. “Because you are both passionate, loving, and protective of those you love. I see all your good traits in him. Okay?”

He nodded. “Okay.”

You pulled him in for kiss on the lips as his hands went to your arms. “Jesus baby, you’re cold.” He took off his jacket and gave it to you. You wanted to argue that no, it’s his jacket, he must be cold too, and you should’ve thought to bring one sing you knew you’d be walking back late at night. But… it smelled like him.

“Now.” You continue with a smile. “One thing I think we can both agree on is that duel.”

You begin chattering about the movie again, Marc sporting a wide grin the whole time. When you saw a man walking towards the two of you, on instinct you latched onto Marc, him pulling you close in a protective grasp. The man passed you, and your peripheral vision caught him blatantly checking you out.

“Daaaaayum mama, whatcha doing with all that ass?” 

Marc whipped around. “What did you just say?”

You gripped him tighter. “Marc, don’t.” You were grateful that Marc always watched out for you, but you knew his temper could be as hot as hell.

Marc wasn’t even looking at you. “What. Did. You. Say?” He asserted.

The man raised his hands defensively. “Hey man, just passing a compliment. She shouldn’t dress like a whore if she doesn’t want to get-” He never got to finish the sentence.

Marc charged on him as soon as he called you a whore. His fury was a white hot blinding rage, incapable of hearing anything, whether it be the man or you, both begging him to stop.

The man went down like a paper doll, barely any resistance. One punch. Another. Another. 

“Marc stop! That’s enough!” You shriek. He didn’t need to do this. A good, strong punch to teach a lesson, sure. A few more might be justified if he had actually touched you, but this? For a catcall? He was younger, early 20’s maybe, perhaps even late teens. Old enough to know better, but not old enough to suffer whatever permanent damage Marc was inflicting.

Blood was covering the man's face from his nose and mouth sputtering blood, but this only seemed to spur Marc on more. That’s when you realized it. He was going to kill him. He was trying to kill him.

You want to touch him, put a hand on his shoulder, knowing how your touch always calmed him… but as you watched the ferocity in which Marc was attacking the man… you couldn’t trust that you wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire with the man. He would never hurt you on purpose, but the look on his face… it was like it wasn’t even him.

“STEVEN! JAKE!” You scream for your other boyfriends. “STOP HIM!! He’s going to kill him!” 

Marc began to falter as he, you assumed, fought for control. It was Jake that took the body in the end, having more experience stealing control out from under Marc. 

He collapsed back onto the concrete, wide-eyed and panting. You rush to the man on the ground, checking his pulse. “Thank god.” You breathe out, taking his phone out of his pocket.

“What are you doing?” Jake asks, sitting up. “We need to go.” “He’s unconscious, I need to call for an ambulance” You hold the phone to the man’s face. Not recognition. “Hold a light to his face so I can get this phone to work.”

Jake stood up, trying to pull on you. “I will call from my apartment, I need to get you home.” He insisted.

You groan, frustrated that they never fucking listen. “If you call from your phone they’ll ask questions, they’ll have your number and they’ll question you! Your fucking fists are split open, they'll fucking know!”

“Then just leave him” Jake pulled on you again.

You smack his leg, “Let go!” You didn’t want his hands on you right now. “And get me a fucking light!” 

He was knelt down at you, phone lighting the man’s face. You knew right away it was Steven. It worked, and you called 911 from the man’s phone, told them a man was beat up on the street and the address, then you hung up.

“Let’s go” You shakily breath out. 

“Of course, love.” He goes to touch you, but stops when you flinch.

“Just… can you just walk behind me, Steven?” You were trembling. He wanted to hold you, he wanted to assure you everything was okay, that you were safe… but the way you flinched…

She’s shaking…

Tell her it’s okay, tell her he can’t hurt her

Jesus christ Marc, she’s not scared of the man.

What are you talking about?

She’s scared of you, pendejo.

“Yeah, yeah darling, whatever you need”

Marc and Jake were abnormally silent the whole walk, as were you. When you got back to your apartment, Steven started to step in, but you held out a hand. “I- I-m tired, Steven”

He hesitated, not wanting to leave you alone after all that. “That’s okay, we can just go right to bed.”

You shook your head. “No, no I think I’m just gonna spend the night alone tonight.”

“Darling, I don’t want to leave you alone after-”

“Then skulk around outside or something, fuck!” You shout, then regain your composure. This wasn’t Steven’s fault. “Sorry, sorry, sorry… I just, need to decompress, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow?”

But you didn’t. They waited the entire day for you to call. Nothing.

On the second day Steven called you. He gave you the first day to “decompress” as you said. The third day Jake tried, leaving a very apologetic voice message.

‘Amor, please just call us back, we just want to know you’re okay’ it went on another 2 minuets.

The calls continued for days.

Marc, you should call

She doesn’t want to hear from me.

Enough self pity. I’m tired of it. You need to call her and make things right.

Maybe he’s right, maybe it’s not a good idea. She probably finally realized what we are and decided to back out.

Christ, not you too. I’m not giving up that easy.

He didn’t.

It went on for a week, and Steven had enough. If you never wanted to see them again, he’d respect that of course, but he wasn’t going to just stop. He was going to try. Steven Grant, if nothing else, rolled with the punches. How did that song go? I get knocked down, but I get up again, you aint ever gonna keep me down.

When you heard knocking at the door, you knew who it was. Who the hell just shows up to a place unannounced anymore? Only Steven Grant. You look in the peephole to check. Yep, you were right. You waited for him to knock again. He did, gently but loud enough you could hear him in the room. It wasn’t insistent, it wasn’t angry. He didn’t want to scare you. You knew he wouldn’t knock unendingly until you answered. He’s not like that.

“Listen, I figure you’re home.” Steven called in. He knew you’d be home, you always were this time of day. And he knew you were on the other side of the door, listening. “I know Marc scared you. Marc scared himself too… He hasn’t hardly been around all week. Jake’s always pretty quiet. Been rather lonely…” Steven trailed off, then regained himself. “You don’t have to answer the door or anything, but if you could call? Or text? Or something? Just so we know it’s over. I understand if you…” 

Watching him through the peephole, you see Steven whipped back a tear as he cleared his throat. 

“We love you, so, so much, and whatever it is we need to do to make this right… We’ll do it. I understand if you don’t want to be with us anymore. I understand that Marc- That we scared you” Steven tried to take the blame off Marc, knowing he was likely listening. “I promise we understand. You don’t even have to give us a proper goodbye. Just… Let us know, please?”

Steven takes a shaky breath, and turns to leave, to allow you space, but you unlock the bolt and swing the door open, nearly tackling him in the process.

It takes a moment for him to realize what’s happening, but as soon as he registers your face buried in his chest, he carefully hugs you back. When you tighten your hold on him, he takes that as permission to hug you tighter.

“I missed you, Steven” You mutter, then add. “I missed all of you.”

“I’m so sorry for last week, love, so, so sorry, so is Jake, so is Marc- we can’t say enough and if this is it we understand-”

You pull back, still holding him. “No, sweetheart, no… I’m not breaking up with you…”

Hesitantly, Steven looked at you. “I sense a ‘but’ coming”

You nod, a small, sad smile on your face. “But, Marc needs to change. He needs to work on his anger. Because I will not live around that, and I will not allow our children to grow up with that.”

The was a pause as Steven watched you. “Our children?”

You smile a bit, falling a little more in love with him with that look on his face. “In the future… if you all want…” You glance at the floor, shuffling nervously. 

He nodded, a tiny smile on his face. “I do… I don’t know about the others but-”

I do

I’ll change, I promise. No more violence, not around her… I’ll get my anger under control… I just don’t know how. I don’t want… I dont want to be like my-

You’re not.

“They do too… Marc promises to work on himself, work on his anger.”

“I’ll help him.” You return to hugging Steven, having missed their touch all week. “We’ll find other outlets.”

Okay

“Marc says he’ll do it.”

Steven smelled the shampoo in your hair as his hands felt your back, he never wanted to let go again, refamiliarizing himself with you.

“Does Marc want to talk?”

Not yet. I need… I need a little time. Until I can trust myself.

“He’s not ready yet, is that alright?”

You nod against his chest. “Can you tell him something for me? Just because… I know he’s thinking it.”

“Of course, love.”

“Make sure he knows, he’s nothing like his mom.”

*************

I hope this was what you were looking for and again IM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONGThis is probably gonna flop like all my marc fics do but here you go

taggong the usual hoes

if you'd like to be added or removed from my general tag list but y'all seem to generally like my nonsense

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ahookedheroespureheart @lucianadraven32 @itspdameronthings @welcometostayingawake @in-between-the-cafes