#as hatred is easier to hold than love that has nowhere to go as in loving him after all this hurt will kill me as in

[haeryna]

feeling so high but too far away to hold me ↪ gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru ;༊

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summary: satoru and suguru come to a critical conclusion, but is it too late for them to mend what was broken?

tw: angst, homophobia, abandonment, mentions of (unintentional) self harm, mentions of illness, barely proofread

notes: title taken from halsey's "without me." all images were taken from pinterest and are NOT mine! i'm not sure if i like how this came out but oh well gotta get through it lol. banner is from @/cafekitsune!

Lately, Satoru has been thinking a lot more about you.

He shouldn't be. Choso's been on his ass for stupid mistakes, like a slight misstep during practice, or the way his voice wavers ever so slightly on notes that are well within his vocal range. Nanami grumbles a bit more when recording sessions extend even further. Haibara brings him an extra water bottle during practice. Even Sukuna is slightly nicer to him, as if he can see how much Satoru is struggling.

Satoru hates it. It makes him feel weak, because he knows now that he misses you more than his heart can bear. He has women throwing themselves at him left and right, so why does a girl from a town he left behind make something in his chest twist? By all accounts, Satoru is thriving. He has a wonderful relationship with his boyfriend, his boy group has broken record after record with each single they release, and Satoru has just signed onto a brand deal with Chanel.

(He knows you're not just a girl, you were his. The only person he could bear to share Suguru with, the only person who could see past his flirtatious facade and say, "It's okay, 'Toru, I'm here for you." He knows the reason why he forces himself to believe you would have only shunned him like his parents, is to run from the realization that he abandoned you in the most horrific way possible.)

It doesn't help that his managers handle all of his social media accounts, and go through all his mail. As soon as him and Suguru signed onto the same agency, their phone lines were decommissioned, and they were given highly protected personal phones. You wouldn't be able to reach him even if you wanted to. Hell, they barely even saw Shoko, and the only reason was because they were both the only people who trusted her to take care of their medical needs.

Suguru had tried, once, to ask about you, to get a way of contacting you. Shoko had looked him dead in the eyes, steel hidden behind soft brown, and told him that, "if you were just going to abandon her like that, at least have the decency to stay gone until they could commit to her fully." The way Suguru's face had paled only confirmed the worst for Satoru; you hadn't understood. You had seen their leaving as the worst kind of betrayal. Shoko had refused to tell them more, stubborn in her loyalty to you.

At first, it was easier to hide shame behind a kind of disdain. Of course you hadn't understood what it had been like, being rejected so violently by parents you once loved. Of course you hadn't understood what it was like to feel the noose tighten around your neck until you knew you would either run, or die. Maybe if you couldn't let them go, it meant you truly had never loved them anyways.

As the months grew, slowly and surely, the tangle of excuses unraveled. You might not have understood, but you had defended him silently in small rebellious ways. The eyeshadow palette that still sat at his vanity. The birthday card you'd made him when you turned 14, with a small rainbow under the phrase "I'll love you no matter what." You too had felt the noose; you'd spent years fighting it, fighting your hatred of the small town you were forced to grow up in. "Satoru, Suguru, Shoko," you would tell them, "one day we'll all move out of here into the nicest, fanciest apartment in the city."

Grief was love with nowhere to go, and in that particular moment, Satoru found your absence particularly painful. Sighing, he stretches, resting his chin on the back of the couch to stare at the clock. 12:36; Suguru was probably still awake. Quietly, Satoru pads to the spare room in the apartment he shares with Suguru that they'd converted into their music and production room. Unsurprisingly, he finds Suguru perched on an old barstool they thrifted, gently strumming the strings of the guitar you'd gifted him so long ago.

"Satoru," Suguru says softly, pausing. "What's wrong? I thought you'd be asleep by now."

Wordlessly, Satoru wraps his arms around him, nuzzling into the slope of his neck. After a few moments, he speaks.

"I miss her."

He can feel the way Suguru stiffens slightly in his arms, before exhaling, tension releasing from his shoulders. "I miss her too. I've been thinking, Satoru."

"That's dangerous for you," Satoru chides, and Suguru rolls his eyes fondly.

"You're such a brat. I've been thinking, what if we went back?"

Satoru blanches, staring at Suguru. "What?"

"Not permanently," Suguru hastily amends, knowing how deep Satoru's scars run. "Just enough to...I don't know, Satoru. We messed up really badly. I know there's a large chance she won't even be there anymore. She used to always tell us about how she couldn't wait to move to the city. But we can at least start there, right?"

The news of Satoru's hiatus caused enough ripples for even you to notice it. Despite the fact you avoided anything to do with both his and Suguru's music career, every news outlet, radio channel, and social media post had something to say about it. Hell, you couldn't even open the local newspaper without seeing his face plastered on it, lamenting his temporary break from the group's next comeback.

Frowning, you slam the kitchen cabinet door a bit harder than necessary. Why should you care? If anything, you should be gloating with this piece of information, that not everything was perfect in Gojo Satoru's idol career. Yet, a small part of you still worried. Was he eating alright? Did something happen to Suguru? Should you call Shoko?

The door chimes, startling you out of your thoughts. Your parents are back in the hospital undergoing another round of treatments but they could have came back early. Sighing, you walk over to the door, opening it without a second thought.

"Hi, what-"

In that moment, you feel several emotions. Regret, that you hadn't checked who it was before opening it. An odd blend of concern and fear; why had they come back, was something horribly wrong? Most overpoweringly, was the deep sense of anger that welled up inside of you, seeing both Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru standing on your doorstep.

"You're here," Sator- Gojo, breathes, crystalline blue eyes greedily drinking in the sight of you. He reaches for you, but you flinch back.

"What are you doing here?"

You're surprised to see that Gojo seems hurt by that statement. Sugu- Geto steps closer. "We wanted to see you."

"Oh, so a whim?" You can't help the harshness of your voice, or the way that your voice trembles ever so slightly. "Its been years, Geto. Five years since you left, and you come back now? What am I, just an afterthought? I already knew that but my god you're such an asshole."

"That's not what I'm saying," Geto sighs, and you want to throttle him. "We missed you so much, I can't even-"

You can't help but cut him off, fists clenched and hot tears pooling in your eyes. "You could have left a note. You could have left me an address, could have reached out once you settled in, anything!"

It's Gojo's turn to speak, hands fidgeting as if he wants to pull you close. "Our managers-"

"I don't care!"

A hush falls after your outburst, and you can't help the tears that slip down your cheeks. "Did I really mean that little to you? I would have left with you, I would have done anything for you, so don't you dare try to come up with an excuse. Don't try to tell me that your managers stopped you. I loved you." Your voice breaks. "How could you?"

Both men look ashamed. Geto is the first to speak. "We thought you would have moved away. We lost our original numbers, and Shoko refused to-"

Your eyes flash. "Don't try to blame Shoko for this. Unlike the two of you, she stayed with me."

Gojo flinches. "That's not fair. We didn't have a choice, why can't you see that?"

A sardonic laugh escapes your lips. "See what? All I see is the choice you made in leaving me behind."

"What happened to you?" Geto breathes, and you fight the urge to slap him. "You were so adamant that you would get out of this town."

"Well I can't," you hiss. "Not all of us can abandon their loved ones without a second thought."

Gojo's face looks like you've just shattered his world. "You never left?"

Something in the way he says that breaks something inside of you. "Mom and Dad have whatever Grandmother had," you tell them. You're not even sure why you're saying this, but there's a sick sense of pleasure in watching it start to sink in. "There's nobody else to help take care of them. Whenever she can, Shoko will try her best to stop by."

"You've been alone," Geto murmurs, horrified.

Venom fills your mouth. "I have been since I was sixteen, thanks for asking. You think I didn't notice that you two were together? You never even said anything to me and I still figured it out." Gojo's face pales but you plow forward. "It was always Satoru and Suguru, Gojo and Geto, but what about me? I was there too, wasn't I?" Blood drips down your palms; you're digging your nails in hard enough to cut. "You two forgot about me. You discarded me, left me behind. Did you really think so little of me? Did you really think I would treat you like everyone else in this town?" You can see the pain in Geto's eyes. "As if it wasn't enough, I had to see you everywhere. It's nice seeing how quickly both of you replaced me with other women."

Gojo calls your name but you shake your head, vision blurring. "Go fuck yourself, both of you. Don't talk to me. I wish you'd never come back." Whirling back inside, you slam the door, ignoring the frantic banging and shouts. As you sink to the floor, you finally allow yourself to sob, curled up against the solid wood doorframe. I thought it was over, you think miserably. But somehow it hurts more than the day they left.

[cooliofango]

The fellow rising MCD writers….

Share opinions/help(?) with these ideas (for a possible series) if you would be so kind! I’m open to doing multiple/all— but I’m stuck in a bad writers block rut and need help out of it! 😭

Tagging the only moot when it comes to MCD that I have so farrrr: @kokomifan24

Ps: I plan to write all of these with female writer first as it is/will be easier for me to write when starting out! And if the series is likes enough/it is requested, I’ll remake it with male pronouns/gender neutral pronounds

Idea one: Garroth x Reader

Reader is an elf folk like Zoey. Turned up at the house of an Okhasis general as a baby and was taken in. When a young child, was introduced to the royal family. It’s found out that she has incredible elemental magiks, being most prominent with fire— but she has no control of it. Rather than punish her, the king finds the best magiks users to help her gain control of these abilities and start her training as a knight to utilize these abilities in combat/for protection of the kingdom. While at her time with the castle, grows close with the siblings. This leads her to be one of the three guards chosen to be the personal guards for the three sons— she becomes Garroth’s personal guard. They bond and form a strong friendship (and hidden romantic feelings) over the course of many long years. The closeness was why, when Garroth attempted to run away from home and his duties, she let him go when she caught him. From then on, she was set as another personal guard to the high priest until they find Garroth and bring him back. Catching up with the actual MCD story’s timeline— she is there when Zane goes there to preform the wedding ceremony.

Idea two: Laurence x Reader

Reader is a thief that goes along with the “steal from the rich, give to the poor” motto, except the poor is a band of refugees/wrongly criminalized escapees of major cities and villages (aka Ohkasis, Scaleswind, etc.) and though she doesn’t like being called a “lord” of the not-small-not-large “village” (refugee camp), she has became the major caretaker for it and its people. She’s admired and respected amongst the people, finding her to be brave in doing something so risky. Laurence and Reader first “meet” when she steals from the group as they camp for the night during a long travel to wherever. They officially meet, however, when reader gets a bit too cocky when seeing a rather expensive (and unknowingly powerful) relic on Aphmau that she wants to take and sell for a hefty price. Laurence is who captures her and they hold her prisoner as they travel, now with her in tow.

Idea three: Travis x Reader

Slight adaptation to the Aphmau series lore regarding Irene and her being the connection between the series with the whole soul splitting thing— it will be instead confined to the MCD story with other people having the other two pieces of her soul

Reader was born rather unnatural. Not in the sense that she looked weird or was actually born in a weird way— but because she was a rather close to emotionless being from day one. Growing up, this made her someone people disliked/found creepy. She didn’t show sadness when a relative passed away. She didn’t shows pain whenever she would get bitten by a wild animal or fell down and scraped her knee. She didn’t show fear whenever she was approached by a rabid wolf (her father had shot and killed it with a bow an arrow to prevent her from harm). Despite how hard it was for them to endure the backlash and judgement, her parents loved her dearly and treated her without hatred. Her father taught her to wield a bow, and her mother (an alchemist) taught her how to make potions as she grew older. The stoic being eventually moved away, utilizing these skills as she traveled alone for years, being paid to do tasks for the people as she passed through (although reluctantly thanks to her demeanor). However, she eventually settled down and made a home for herself in the middle of nowhere amongst an evergreen forest. She first meets Travis (and maybe the others) when they come across her fighting off bandits on her own, who tried to rob her of her potions.

[ofthoughtsandmemories]

man. I'm not sure if keeping this blog alive is a good thing, but right now I don't see the harm in posting.

My life fell apart. It sounds dramatic when I type it out, but I can't deny that it's true. I am only a few assignments away from getting my Masters, but that's on hold for... well, I don't know. As long as it takes to get better, I guess.

At first, I didn't know what was wrong with me. I spiraled and spiraled. I was certain I wouldn't survive. And I wouldn't have if I didn't have such wonderful friends and a medical support system.

I spent several months digging my own grave and 3 months lying in it. That's what my therapist now says, and I can't help but agree with her. My dad came and saved me. I left Omaha behind for Appalachia. It was, and is, a bittersweet transition. More bitter than sweet, but it gets easier to swallow every day. I miss my friends in Omaha so much. They promised we'd keep in touch and that we could still be friends, but I have more experience in losing friends than they do, I think. Perhaps that's a pessimistic outlook, but I just can't help it. I know they still think of me. Moi talks to me frequently. I just miss them so much.

I thought I was sick. Everyone did. My parents and I struggled and struggled to be seen by doctors who would take me seriously. After the endocrinologist told me it was just PCOS, something inside of me changed. I don't know what it was or why, but ever since then, I feel like a different person.

I'm still not completely convinced that this new treatment is going to work, but I'm not really convinced of anything right now, so I guess that's fine. It has to be fine.

So after almost a year now of suffering and stagnation and pain, I've started to heal. I think. But this healing is starting with 10 years of repressed memories and trauma I didn't even know I had.

I am a CSA survivor. Typing it out still feels strange. How long did I carry that with me in my subconscious? I wish I knew. I wish I could remember. As scared as I am of remembering, it somehow seems worse to have it all tucked away somewhere, out of reach. I can't heal if I can't remember.

At the same time, the worst part so far has been remembering. I can't stop thinking about high school. I can't stop thinking about all of the ways that I hurt people. Realizing why I acted the way I did. Remembering all of the dysfunctional ways that I cried out for help.

This blog is one of them. I read through the entire thing some time a few weeks ago. It hurt me to see myself saying such horrible things. I was 13. She was 13. I picked up the burden of self hatred so, so young, and I didn't even know I still carried it with me.

I also don't know when I started believing that I deserved the abuse I got. The neglect. It's little wonder to me now that I struggled with adulthood. No one taught me. No one taught me how to live. I have spent my entire life believing that I am a burden, unwanted, never enough. My mother threatened to kill herself because of me many times. I want to say that I forgot it happened, but that's not true. Like the rest, it has been with me. I think I just accepted that I deserved it somewhere along the way. I don't think that anymore. I haven't thought that for a while.

Now, I just live. I heal. I'm frustrated and scared and sad and all kinds of things. I have so much work to do, and most of it is in my head. I'm grateful for my NH friends more than I can say. I'm grateful to Moi and the rest of my friends in Omaha. I'm grateful to all of the people I have known in my life who have helped me begin to love myself. People who I loved. Because I do love myself, even if I still hate myself. I love parts of me, and I will learn to love all of me.

There is nowhere else to go but forward.

[ahlite-a]

“I’m dead, not a monster.”  She says this with the sureness of a man who knows monsters well / has been monstrous, yes, but not a monster, she doesn’t think.  Not yet.  (  a world named her demon.  they were afraid, even once she saved them.  )   But that isn’t the point.  She doesn’t — doesn’t like (  as much as she can not - like anything, so hollowed out  ) when they act afraid, like she’s a bomb that will go off if they speak too loud, she doesn’t like ———  “I’m not...like ——” like one who’d raze worlds kill innocents let innocents die its the same thing like one who’d abandon like one who’d –—

“I’m not...like Aether.”  Yet.

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

Lily Evans and Severus Snape: Headcanons

So, I was asked in the ask about Sirius and Regulus what I thought about Snape and Lily. At this point people are probably going, “Oh that Carnivorous Muffin is just clearly a Snape stan who thinks he could never do anything wrong and anyone who was slightly mean to him is evil.” Shockingly, I’m actually not, I just happen to think sexual harassment and attempted murder are bad and probably worse than JKR intended (I do think she was trying to go the “boys will be boys” route versus “oh my god, they just dumped pigs blood on Carrie at the prom and then threw her at a starving vampire”)

So let’s start on Snape.

First, Snape did live an incredibly shitty life, with circumstances beyond his control, that did lead to many of his poorer choices. In no way am I saying that it was alright for Snape to have grown up in an impoverished, abusive, household and endured years of humiliation and torment at school. 

That said, I believe that we all, in some respects, are responsible for our actions and our decisions. Yes, even when we come from non-privileged backgrounds. Life is hard, some people will have it much easier than you, that doesn’t excuse you becoming a domestic terrorist or tormenting and terrifying your students, young children, so much so that an entire generation comes out with a loathing and incompetence in your subject.

I guess let’s start back on his friendship with Lily Evans. We get... a really weird perspective from Snape on that friendship. Time and her tragic death have warped it into this strange worship where I’m not sure the Lily Evans that exists in his mind and memory is the one that really was there. She’s this shining Madonna idol who he failed, actively betrayed, is very very hung up about it years later.

I suspect they weren’t as good of friends as either of them thought they were and it comes down to Snape’s resentment of his own upbringing and muggles. I believe Snape was very racist towards muggles, specifically, due to his father. It was his way of grappling with his home life and only fueled by being in Slytherin. Lily was probably, in his mind, always a golden exception to the rule (Lily is the token, gold standard, muggleborn where she’s pretty, brilliant, charming, etc.) That Severus himself was a halfblood clearly caused him some angst. What I’m getting at is that I believe throughout their entire friendship, especially when they got to Hogwarts, there was an unacknowledged undercurrent of intense racism that eventually boiled up with that one incident in Snape’s fifth year.

Calling her that, while he views it as a slip of the tongue that damned him for all time, I see it more as a Freudian Slip. That sort of thing doesn’t just slip out from nowhere, not at that age when they both knew exactly what that word meant, it simmers beneath the surface, and was ultimately what he thought of her. Later, she became the Madonna figure that he views her as today (ironically perhaps even less of a person than he viewed her as at the time).

That said I think a number of factors played into the young Snape becoming a Death Eater. One, becoming friends with Lucius/that crowd who were all being sucked into Tom’s influence. Two, having his terrible home life and all the implications of Snape resenting his own blood status as well as muggles and muggle borns at large. Three, the loss of friendship with Lily (now there’s nothing to hold him back anymore, he has no reason to preserve muggleborn life). Fourth, Dumbledore’s letting Sirius, James, and Remus entirely off the hook in the werewolf incident.

That last one, especially, I imagine cemented Snape’s utter hatred of ‘the light’ (don’t get me started on the stupidity of light/dark in Harry Potter but I guess I’ll use the term) and those that cater to muggleborns. They’re hypocrites of the highest order, Dumbledore claiming to defend the poor and non-nobility, when he goes and does the exact opposite (James is the next lord Potter, Sirius is still pureblooded even if disowned, Severus Snape is a dirt poor halfblood). 

So what I’m saying is I understand why Snape did become a Death Eater, I do not condone this action. Especially as, unlike Regulus, Snape never gets cold feet. He loves being a Death Eater at first, he’s living the dream, getting all the revenge he ever wanted and burning the stupid wizarding world to the ground as he scrambles for ways to climb in Tom Riddle’s graces. We don’t see any hint that he was wavering, thinking of the fact that beloved Lily might die in battle, perhaps at his hand, until the prophecy. 

Now, I’m a little kinder than some about the prophecy. We know Snape overhears the first portion of the prophecy in early 1980. He eagerly rushes to the dark lord, regales him with the prophecy in both a) aid to the cause and b) in the hopes of climbing in the ranks and gaining the dark lord’s notice. At this point, Lily Evans is pregnant, perhaps knows the gender, but has not given birth. Months later, when both Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter are born at the end of July, Snape realizes he has signed Lily Evans’ death warrant (because despite Dumbledore talking, I imagine Tom always planned to kill off both children, Pettigrew just happened to make things convenient for Tom to go to the Potters first).

With Lily’s death now so inevitable, and her blood on his own hands, Snape has his existential crisis, goes to Dumbledore who puts the Potters in hiding and becomes a double agent. Snape also pleads for Lily’s life with Tom and he puts in a minimal amount of effort to spare the woman. 

Then Lily dies anyway and now Snape lives in the bitter cynicism most commonly seen in characters from Game of Thrones. He’s Dumbledore’s agent and sort of a Dirty Harry character, getting to see all the nasty things that many of the other order members never have to deal with. He’s one of the more intelligent characters in the series, able to see the truth of the world he lives in, but he also doesn’t care enough to actually do anything about it. He’s a bitter, resentful, and angry protector of Harry Potter, choosing to hate a naive child for all the reminders of his own terrible life (both in Lily, for failing and betraying her, and in James his most hated rival and tormentor). He gleefully enables the favoritism of Slytherin (my god how he panders to Draco Malfoy) while tormenting poor Neville into terror (that Neville’s greatest 13 year old fear is Snape is very telling).

Basically by the time we get to him in canon Snape not only isn’t happy but I think he doesn’t want to be happy. He’s accustomed to his bitterness, his cynicism, his quiet rage and moves forward out of both resignation, guilt, and a sense of obligation to a woman’s ghost. The actions he takes in canon aren’t so much for Harry as they are for the memory of Lily Evans.

Even if Snape could be happy at that point, change his life or his purpose, I do not think he would. He’s a man who has given up on life.

Now, onto Lily Evans.

You probably think I’m going to rail on her to for the sheer hypocrisy and nerve of marrying James Potter. I’m actually not. Lily Evans is one of my favorite characters in the Harry Potter series and probably the one I’d label as the most moral (though that’s a very low bar in Harry Potter, the characters are almost all assholes, but even so Lily would still be very high on the list).

You know what, I’m just going to damn myself and sound like a crazy person. Lily Evans always reads to me as a more moral young female Tom Riddle.

What the hell? You undoubtedly ask but I’ll explain.

Lily, while having a far more stable homelife than Tom Riddle, also comes from a muggleborn background. She’s exceptionally brilliant, very good looking, and very charming with a lot of people who would call her friends but no one close. Lily, aside from Snape (and that’s debatable), has no friends.

If Lily had not been a Gryffindor, and were Dumbledore not a raging misogynist, his Tom Riddle bells likely would have been ringing with her.

“But wait, that can’t be right!”

Oh, yes it can. First, as I went into above with Snape and Lily, there was something deeply wrong with that friendship. I believe they both considered themselves best friends, didn’t see many of the warning flags, but ultimately we see the giant fissure when Snape lets loose the m-word. Given all of that, I would not label them having been true friends in the first place. Just the appearance of friends.

Otherwise, while it’s very easily to canonically point out James’ friends it’s incredibly difficult to do so with Lily. First, people hardly remember Lily. We get Dumbledore talking about her like she’s the Virgin Mary, saving her son with the power of her love. We get Snape’s weird Virgin Mary impressions of her. Otherwise, it’s pretty much just Slughorn. Everyone else remembers that she married James and that was great because JAMES WAS SO COOL and that she had very striking eyes and was “nice”. Lily is less than a ghost in Harry Potter canon (sadly Harry never really realizing it).

Also, unlike James who has Sirius, Remus, and Peter to point towards (that are very important characters in canon). Lily has no one. The godmother was Alice Longbottom, a woman many years older than Lily and James who probably liked Lily well enough but I can’t imagine was a close friend. In canon there’s an offhand mention of two girls named Mary and Marlene but we don’t see much of them/Severus was always cited as Lily’s closest friend. As for Lily’s sister, well we know they’re estranged. I think it’s very telling that Lily writes a letter to Sirius, James’ best friend and certainly not hers, telling him that James is pouting over his invisibilty cloak. It’s because there was no one else to write.

So Lily Evans is a brilliant girl, who everyone likes and is very charming, but has no friends and led a very lonely and short life.

Here’s where my slack towards Lily comes in.

When she dumps Snape I completely understand why she did so. Snape dropping that word wasn’t simply a mistake, a moment of infinite regret, but something that revealed what he truly thought of her and where she came from. Lily was absolutely right in walking away.

However, without Snape, her closest friend is suddenly gone and the world is cold. As graduation approaches I imagine Lily’s career options become clearer and clearer. While very talented and smart, Lily is a muggleborn, what job she does manage to get (thanks to the sheer nepotism of the wizarding world/lack of jobs) will likely be through Slughorn if she manages to get a job at all. The world is cold and it is cruel and no one seems to even notice.

Cue James Potter. I do believe, probably until seventh year, Lily loathed James, not simply because of the horrifying things he did to Severus (and I’m sure she knew very little of it, Snape hiding most of it from her out of pride and shame), but because he’s just a giant dick. He’d make flirting with her a kind of game and joke to be shared with Sirius, something to hold over Snape’s head, like she’s a prize to be one.

However, by seventh year the werewolf incident has happened, Snape’s retreated further and further into Death Eater recruit land and she’s cut him off, and for all my “James is a dick” I do imagine he calmed down a little. Now that Snape is no longer friends with Lily/after the whole almost murder incident I imagine they didn’t bully him nearly as much as they used to. Though yes, they probably still bullied him, but Lily probably doesn’t know that now that she’s lost contact with Snape. 

James is charming and very good looking. He seems a bit more mature than he used to be. Lily is desperately lonely, living in a world that rejects everything she is, and James seems like one of the few who does support her (that James is more of a ‘pretty fly for a white guy’ kind of support for muggleborns doesn’t hit until later). So Lily is charmed and makes the largest mistake of her life, she and James start dating.

Now, given their extreme youth as well as Lily’s pedigree (say what you like, I don’t think Mr. and Mrs. Potter were thrilled that their son was dating a muggleborn) I imagine the wedding was a shot gun wedding and Lily got unintentionally pregnant. Yes, go ahead and throw fruit at me or call foul, I just can’t imagine they’d want a child that young while in the middle of a war while they’re part of an active resistance movement and only just out of Hogwarts.

Then things start snowballing downhill. Lily and James have just joined the resistance movement, Lily’s son is prophesied to defeat Voldemort, they strongly suspect one of James’ close friends is a spy, and they’re forced into hiding.

In hiding is where I imagine stress runs high and their marriage begins to fall apart. We know from Lily’s letter that James was routinely leaving hiding, using the cloak, so he could meet up with Sirius and Peter (I imagine Lupin’s on the out as they suspected he was the spy). While James might not realize what a big deal that was, I imagine Lily always did, and she begins to realize just what she’s gotten herself into but there’s no way out while in hiding.

Now we go really off the rails into headcanon territory in: what the hell is up with Harry Potter?

In my stories, I often choose the unwitting god route. Harry can’t die because he is a god, he becomes the master of death and always was the master of death. This is an answer, but it’s one that makes canon Harry a god and... I would not want canon Harry as a god. JKR and Dumbledore push the “Lily loved her child so much that it deflected death... multiple times” but this always felt... unsatisfying. Many parents love their children (fathers too, JKR, let’s not make this weird Virgin Mary thing) and yet Harry Potter alone in the history of mankind survives multiple times. 

Most likely, Lily pulled off some insane bullshit with absolutely no resources and minimal education AND EVERYONE IGNORES IT. We do know that Lily crafted the blood wards, wards stronger than anything Dumbledore himself can come up with/than Voldemort can break. Ones that protect Harry not only at home but away from it as it melts Voldemort for simply touching his skin. Lily pulled off the impossible in only a few months and did it right under everyone’s nose.

This makes her easily one of the most intelligent characters in Harry Potter. Probably beating out Dumbledore and maybe tying with Tom Riddle. And Dumbledore tells us, “Your Virgin Mary mother loved you so much, Harry, that it courses through your veins and lights those that would want to harm you on fire.”

So, that’s Lily for you.

Now, that said, I’m probably a bit biased and clearly very lenient with her marrying James. To be honest it took me years to figure out why the hell Lily would ever marry James after what happened with Severus and was always one of those weird canon things I never quite understood. He’s that good looking and charming, I guess, was my response.

The answer I now land on with some confidence was that the world is that cruel and bleak and Lily was utterly alone for two years.

By the way, a side note/plug, of all my stories while head canons do pop up here and there I think “October” is one where they tend to crop up more. It’s a vast AU of canon, but it gives an idea of what I think x character would do in y situation. 

[redsbrainrot]

Gruvia Week Day 6 - Agony

warning: mentions of blood

_ _ _

"Juvia, what're you doing up again?" 

03:30 in the morning, Gray caught his wife of six months pondering around the kitchen, dressed in his shirt and nothing underneath it, other than silky underwear and knee-high, odd, socks covering her porcelain legs. Her hair had been in the same messy ponytail for the past two days; bumpy and greasy. She hadn't showered in almost a week. 

She glances up at her Gray-sama, the portrayal on her face remains bleak as she blankly shrugs, "Can't sleep." 

"Again?" 

It'd been five days. Five days since the agonising, tragic loss she never even dreamed of having the trauma of going through. Awakening one day to buckets of rain dripping down the window, stomach cramps the same pain rate as being stabbed by a steak knife, and later that day her sheets are stained with blood dripping between her legs, followed by screams so harsh she'd lost her voice. 

Juvia shakes her head at Gray's questioning, breaking the simple eye contact and continuing to circle around the central counter. 

Gray forces her aimless pondering to stop as he takes her hand. Her eyes dart from the light grip on her hand to his eyes, hers narrowing in annoyance. 

Gray couldn't bare it. Juvia never looked at him with such hatred. She can't control the way she's feeling right now, and he's aware that anything she may spit at him won't be from her heart. It's not her, he had to remind himself. She's suffered a loss, and he has too. Her end is only much, much more painful, as she was the one who had to experience losing her unborn child. 

The two hadn't been married for long, and after Juvia discovers she's pregnant only five months into their marriage, she was delighted with excitement anyway. They never discussed exactly when kids could go on the table, yet the surprise out of nowhere was bliss. 

Juvia would go day and night protesting she needed solitude, and begged him to take a job request. On the verge of accepting, he changed his mind in an instant and stayed for her. Gray couldn't control his thoughts and his worst fear was that Juvia may do something stupid to hurt herself. 

She snatches her hand out of his grip, turning away and continuing to dawdle, "Juvia, can you come back to bed?" She shakes her head, "Please?" Another objection as Gray follows her circular path. 

"Can you take a shower then? I think it'll do you good." 

Her head shakes roughly this time, and Gray manages to catch a brief sound of sniffling, her feet remaining fixed on the floor. 

"Bath?" Gray suggests, keeping his distance in case she slaps away his touch once more, "It'll make you sleepy." 

With a release of an exhausted sigh, she agrees. "Fine." Juvia's never so blunt in her words. 

"I'll run it," He leaps in front of her before she can enter their bedroom, "Lie down for a minute, okay?" 

Juvia obliges, carefully placing herself on the edge of the mattress, not lying down, instead slouched in her seat, her fingers fiddling and pulling with the ends of her socks. Anything for a distraction. 

Gray was still in surprise of how the girl hadn't yet fainted. She'd lacked in both sleep, and eating. Truthfully, he can't remember the last time he saw something enter her system. She hadn't dropped by the guild since before the incident, refused to allow people inside the apartment, including Gajeel, and had stop using the terms "Gray-sama", when referring to her beloved husband. Gray may have found it irritating way back in the day, but now it's just not the same. He can't stand watching her suffer. What struck him down most is that he may have been trying his best to make life easier for her, however nothing was helping. 

The only other person aware of their current situation was Erza. She advised Gray he just needed to give her time, she'll come around eventually. Her biggest concern was Gray's wellbeing. He's gone through hell, and this time instead of moping around, complaining about life and frankly wishing he wasn't around anymore, he wasn't letting himself cry it out. He desperately wanted Juvia to at least smile. Her smile is what keeps him going. Without it, what's the point? 

Honestly, all Gray needed right now was to weep his depressive thoughts into someone's chest. Only this time, he can't to Juvia. She's already killing herself with guilt. 

Juvia dismally thanks Gray for running her bath as she enters the bathroom, her shirt already undone and the shoulders draping down her arms. Gray choses to leave her in peace, about to open the door and wait eyes open in their bed for her. Until Juvia latches her hand onto his, tugging him back inside. "Can you stay in here with me?" 

Juvia swirls her hand around the decently heated water, while the other is in Gray's hand as he is sat on the floor next to the tub. Her hold was weak, but at least the two were touching each other, even if it was only a hand hold. 

Neither of them spoke. Sitting in silence with each other was enough for now. 

"I'm really sorry." Juvia startles Gray as her voice cracks, breaking the silence.

"For what?" 

"The past few days," Her hand swirling ends, looking up with her watering eyes into Gray's, "I've been really cold to you. I'm not making this any easier."

"Nothing about this is easy, Juvia," If anything, Gray's wishes were the opposite of her sincere, unneeded and unwanted apologies, "You don't have to apologise. You don't need to," He lifts his hand from hers, brushing it down her dampened hair, caressing her cherubic cheeks, "It's only your way of coping. I know you don't mean anything you say." 

Juvia appreciates nothing more than her darling's kind words. Even though no smile was emitted, he knew she took his words to heart as her hand placed on top of his, turning her face slightly and planting her lips on the corner of his palm.

Unfortunately, his light touches and sweet words weren't enough for her to keep back a gush of tears. Her gloomful teardrops splatter into his hand, whimpers and sniffles following. 

_ _ _

Juvia pleaded Gray to leave her in peace in the lukewarm bathtub after her flood of tears had escaped. Gray was unsure of what to say. All she needed from him was brief contact, and of course an immediate change of heart occurred as her drops of sadness had faded. 

Gray left behind another one of his shirts and some clean underwear for Juvia. He refused to acknowledge his exhaustion and remained awake while patiently awaiting Juvia's return to their bedroom. 

Almost 04:30, Gray peeps up at the door as it creaks open. Juvia tiresomely walks through, the drips in her wet hair seeping through her braids, and the buttons on her shirt done up in the wrong order. It didn't bother her, though. She probably didn't even notice. 

Gray opens up the covers for her side, the eye contact absent as she crawls in beside him, switching off the lamp as she does so. 

Juvia lays on her side, facing Gray yet not exchanging any form of contact with him. Gray desperately wanted to pull her close to him, cuddle in their sleep and once again be comfortable with one another. She craved the space, though. 

"Juvia," He breathes, trailing his hand towards hers, implying a moment of contact, which thankfully she agrees to, "I hate seeing you beat yourself up." 

Silence. 

"Tomorrow will you at least go outside? Even if it's only a small walk." 

Her grip in his hand loosens, thinking it over. "I don't know..." 

After picturing the absolute elation portrayed on her face, spectating her suffering was agonising for him. 

At first, she was panicky, anxious and frightened of what Gray would think of her pregnancy. On the outside, she remained mature and adult-like, keeping the situation and her emotions under control. 

"Gray-sama?" Juvia starts as she's sat on the bathroom counter, Gray opposite and leant on the wall with his arms folded, "What if it really is positive? What will we do?" 

Juvia had been concerned whether she was pregnant or not for about four days. She first noticed her period was late, but that had happened before. Her cycle was up and down, so the notice in change wasn't a first sign of pregnancy. 

"What do you want?" Gray wasn't sure at this point. 

Gray was the one who proposed taking a pregnancy test just to make sure, as much as Juvia objected that she couldn't possibly be. 

"Well, would Gray-sama mind if Juvia is pregnant? Would it bother you?" 

Gray's response is quick with a head shake, "To be honest, no." Juvia peers up with her teeth nibbling her lip, "My main concern if you, Juvia. If you don't want to have a baby right now, that's your choice. This isn't really mine to make." Gray's tone had always been bland and he's a closed book, making their moment difficult for Juvia. 

"I want your opinion, Gray-sama." 

He tilts his head for a moment, what did he really think about this? 

"I..." Gray questioned his possible skills as a father, already wondering whether he made a good husband before hand, "We've been married for almost six months, and these months have been the best of my life. I like having fun with you, when it's just the two of us. I know you want kids at some point, and so do I. So... if you wanna have a baby now, I'd be happy with it." 

Juvia profoundly smiles at his honesty. She'd enjoyed her relationship with Gray-sama before they were even in one. She's loved him for years, and being pregnant with his baby would make her happier than ever. Even if it's sooner than she thought it'd happen. 

She realises the timer had ended, and takes the test behind her, hovering her thumb over the result before taking a look. Gray steps closer, grabbing her hand while staring down at the test. Trembling, she slips her thumb aside to see two red lines, indicating a positive test. 

"Juvia, I'm back." Gray announces himself as he enters their apartment.

As he closes the door, he quickly takes note how it's suddenly began to pour rain from outside. The windows are drowning in the water, and only a moment ago the sun was out. He hadn't seen rain like this in god knows how long. 

"Juvia?" He calls again, after no response. 

After searching the kitchen and living room, he heads to their bedroom. He opens the door to notice ruffled sheets, and towards the edge of the bed, a puddle of red was sinking into the mattress. 

Gray catches the sounds of whimpers coming from the bathroom. Struck with confusion, he storms inside and witnesses his wife on the dark towel covering the tiled floor, dressed in one of his shirts. For support, her arms depended on the edge of the bathtub, while her face dug into her arm, soaking with tears. 

Gray drops to the floor, gently shaking her arm in attempt to get words out of her. She refuses, shaking her head over and over again as her whimpers become cries of distraught. Finally, Gray notices a gush of blood between her legs. 

[razmahdaz-art]

One of Those Rare Nights

A Geraskier oneshot where Geralt is incredibly soft and Jaskier is incredibly tender. Enjoy this 1700 word comfort fic! That’s all it is! Woo!

Tonight was one of those rare nights. Once a year, maybe twice, Geralt was be blessed by some ancient being with nights like tonight.

A night where the hunt went easier so no potions were used. A night where his swords were sharpened and his armor was taken care of. A night where he had a room at an inn with a large bed, bath, and plenty of food.

It was a rare night where Geralt of Rivia, famous Witcher, had absolutely nothing to do and nowhere to be.

After he had dinner and Jaskier was left to attend his audience, Geralt made his way up to their shared room, made his way under the warm water of a lovely bath, and then found his way into that oh-so large and comfy bed in the middle of the room, where he sits now In some loose pants, reading a book that was left on the nightstand.

It was none of Jaskier’s, no. Geralt had already thumbed through most of his collection. And to make it any more obvious, the tale that these adventurers go through were obviously not written anyone that had actually seen the monsters in real life. The way that sword duels were written, the way that wyverns were described, Geralt couldn't really help but knit pick his way through each chapter. Nonetheless, he was calm and refreshed and...Gods be damned, Geralt found himself maybe relaxing for the first evening in many many months.

Jaskier, sadly, didn’t seem to be having a similar night.

He walked through the door a few hours after Geralt had left him. And he looked like an absolute mess. His hair was disheveled, there were deep bags under his eyes, and he was practically dragging his lute across the floor as he made his way to the vanity. If Geralt wasn't worried before, then he certainly was when the bard haphazardly dropped his instrument and began shucking off his brand new and very expensive pastel pink doublet, letting it join his lute on the floor.

“Rough night?” Geralt asked, his eyes glued to the slumped over shadow of his bard.

“Rough Crowd,” the younger man replied as he gave himself a lookover in the mirror. He wasn’t covered in rotten food or someone else's drink, but he definitely hated how those frown lines were etching their way into his face. He let out a low and long sigh as he began to ramble.

“Couldn’t seem to please anyone,” he began as he started pacing across the room, his usual boisterous posture traded in for more of a slump. “Not a ballad, nor joke, nor poem. It seemed everything I did or said either went over their heads or was disregarded. I got heckled, Geralt! Heckled! The last time I got heckled was my first year at Oxenfurt!” Jaskiers arms waved around as he went on his rant, and his hands eventually did begin to unlace his breeches.

Geralt had closed his book and pushed it to his side, preparing to move to make room for his companion. He listened to the poor bard go on about his night, and the Witcher couldn’t help but feel a little bad he hadn’t stayed to at least support him through it. He recalled he did hear laughter here and there, but since he was lost in reading, Geralt assumed that it was because Jaskier had told a very good joke. But if there was anyway Geralt knew how to get through evenings like this, where Jaskier swore the whole world was against him, than he’d have to rant it out of his system before he went to bed. ‘Bad ends to the day make for bad dreams’ the bard always claimed. And Geralt listened to all of it without any reservation.

He sat up straighter as he watched Jaskier step closer to the bed, and as he got through the long rampant prows of his woes, Jaskier started to quiet a bit, his face falling farther than it had before. It made Geralt’s eyebrows knotch.

“Had the audacity to call me a waste of a man. Told me to find a ‘real’ profession,” Jaskier almost whispered as he stomped his way out of his boots and breeches. Those words made Geralt’s heart sink into his gut. To have your own life, your own hard work, be called a waste...Well, he could only be empathetic. And he knew especially how hard Jaskier let words hit him, especially when it came to anything he was passionate about. He’d seen the bard take criticism, but outright unshielded hatred always seemed to take that shine out of his eyes.

The Witcher pushed back the large and heavy blanket down, and started to shift to give Jaskier his corner of the bed beside him. But before Geralt could escape, one of the bard’s long and lazy, gangly legs swung over to the opposite side of his thigh, and in one solid swoop, Jaskier had planted himself in Geralt’s lap. This was hardly the first time his bard has done this, not even hiding the action in public, but every time the Witcher finds himself pinned, his breath can’t help but hitch. His hands did come up to massage the outside of his thighs trying to do his best to comfort the man.

“I’m sorry that I tried to bring a little light to this disgusting po-dunk town,” Jaskier mumbled as he began taking off the necklace he had decided to wear. “Sorry that I wanted to give the people something prettier to look at besides the Cows,” he continued as he plucked each finger clean of his rings.

Jaskier attempted to reach out to place the collection onto the little nightstand, but he found himself just falling short. As Jaskier leaned close, one hand came up to his back and pulled him close into the crook of the Witcher's neck, while the other collected the jewelry and gingerly placed it onto the wooden table. The bards arms came up to hook around the broad shoulders he was being pulled into, and his whole torso became flush with Geralt’s. Everywhere Jaskier’s skin connected felt absolutely searing against the Witcher’s naturally cold skin, and vice versa for his companion.

“Those people are a rarity,” Geralt almost purred, the rumble of his voice making Jaskier’s chest vibrate. “You are the only bard I've seen win over even the worst of crowds. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an audience that you couldn't swoon.”

“Geralt, dear?” Jaskier asked.

“Hmm?” He responded.

“You do remember that when we met, I was literally being pelted with bread by a crowd that hated me,” the bard reminded, but Geralt could feel the smile the other was muffling into his skin.

“Like I said,” The Witcher responded with a huff of a laugh. “A rarity.” Jaskier’s head turned harshly, and his forehead was burrowing into the line where his neck met his shoulders, his messy hair tickling him a bit. 

Geralt’s arms moved again, one holding him like he was not but a tired toddler, and his other coming up to run his calloused fingers through those soft brown locks. His thumb circled just near his temple, relieving the stress that was bundled there and the rest of his fingers just scratched and lightly tugged at Jaskier’s scalp. It’s what he did when Geralt got back from long hunts, his body thrumming with potions and his muscles being pulled taught like bowstrings. And everytime Jaskier’s lovely fingers tangled their way into his messy and gut slick hair, Geralt felt like he was melting under that warm touch. And from the way Jaskier’s breathing was slowing and his shoulder began to loosen, He knew he was doing the right thing.

He felt one of Jaskier’s eyes flutter open, before shutting again. “Were you reading?” the bard hummed lazily against his collar bone.

“I was,” Geralt replied simply.

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier drawled, seemingly genuinely apologetic. “For Interrupting.”

Geralt’s head just sank onto the top of Jaskier’s, his white hair being brushed back a lazy hand that wasn’t his. “Don’t be. You’re far more interesting. Whoever wrote that is surely below you. They’ve probably never seen any of the beasts the book describes in their life, if how they describe their fights is anything to go by.”

While the Witcher spoke, he felt the bard sink deeper into him, like the warmest and thickest quilt on the continent had just been thrown on top of him. The tension in Jaskier’s face had completely scurried away, his once-knotting back gone slack under the strokes his hand had been repeating for minutes. Jaskier was close to sleep if his body language was anything to go by. But if he had learned anything from his bard’s doting, it’s that necessities should be met before bed.

“Need anything?” Geralt asked against the other's skull, his lips just grazing Jaskier’s head. “Water? Food?”

“This,” Jaskier stated, his arms giving a light squeeze around the Witcher’s shoulders. “You,” he meekly mumbled as he placed a lighter than breath kiss to Geralt’s throat. The Witcher couldn’t hear his stomach growling, and predicted that the bard would be getting up in the night to wet his worn throat with water. But right now, Jaskier seemed content as he was, and so did his body.

Geralt rolled over a bit to his side, keeping Jaskier’s head on his shoulder so as to not disturb the poor man. The hand that was tangled in the others hair was now reaching down to pull the heavy blanket over the both of them. Once it was in place, that same hand came up to brush lightly over the place on Jaskier’s chest where his heart was just beneath flesh, his fingers delicately brushing over the gentle beat that Geralt had started to associate with home. The calming scent of lavender filled his senses as he knew the bard was falling into unconsciousness.

“You’ve got me,” Geralt hums as he places a kiss on Jaskier’s forehead. The hand on his bard’s back does a gentle wave, and with a small use of Igni, all the lights were banished from the room. “You always will.” Geralt almost missed it, but his ear picked up the gentlest of ‘hmms’ from Jaskier’s tired throat.

And with that little response, Geralt could feel Jaskier slip into a comfortable unconsciousness. And if it dared to be disturbed by whatever remnants of this bad night that has permeated the bard’s gentle dreams, then Geralt would work him into this same state, over and over again.

This was certainly a rare night, for the better or the worse. But nonetheless, Geralt knew it’d be a night he’d hold close to his heart for decades to come.

[fairycosmos]

chloe what do you do when you feel really suicidal? but like not like before- but NOW that you are grieving such a painful loss? dont need to answer but i read your a. to the anon that felt trapped and like they couldnt leave now bc their sibling died too and like you and that anon i feel the same. im so so suicidal chloe. i cry every day and night and i feel despertate but my parents just lost their child so. how do you cope... as much as its possible. what do we do? fuck.

dude i am so sorry you're in the same position as me and you are going to hate me for saying it but there is no satisfactory answer 😔 it's a cruel joke. we're in the worst pain we've ever been in, and our instinct is to want to make that stop. but we can't because now we're obligated to stay alive, where all the hurt is, because we're one of the only ones left. and we dont want to cause more of this feeling by ending it all. it's like a contract you didn't agree to and are now trapped in for the foreseeable. grief is the absolute heaviest thing a person can carry, it's a fucking nightmare. it doesn't make any sense, it doesn't have a cure and it's disorienting as fuck. it's ok to be exhausted by it. reality has been irreparably  worsened and it's an absolute tragedy,  it's completely unfair. personally i'm more suicidal than i've ever been, but like you, i know i'm not going to do anything.  and in moments of great pain, where i want to act on those thoughts, i find myself coming back to that fact. i watch the idea of suicide run its course through my head and then i acknowledge the reality of things, that i can't leave. that it doesn't matter how sad i am and how tired i am, because i'm still here, and processing these emotions is a part of that. the urge to kill myself is there, but the actual act of suicide has never been less of an option than it is right now. so i can feel whatever i need to feel, but there's no point leaning into it or daydreaming about it. because it's not going to happen. sometimes i'm screaming and crying to myself in absolute agony while this is all going on, and sometimes i'm just sitting staring at my phone, numb. the desperation is very real, and i understand that. but it is not as urgent as it feels in the moment. no matter how many times i think i'm at my limit, i know that there's going to be tomorrow. and at the moment that sounds like a really bad thing. but i know that by waking up my parents aren't getting a call saying i'm dead, which for now is kind of the whole point. i am living to minimize their trauma, i am living for them, and an optimist would have hope that that could keep me alive long enough until i get to the point where i can eventually live for myself again. i could definitely see that for your future, even if you can't. the thing is you don't have to know what to do and you dont have to look for ways to fill the void that has been left behind by your sibling. you just have to learn to exist alongside it, and i do mean just exist. as awful as it is. waking up, putting one foot in front of the other, crying and crying and crying. that is good enough. i know it doesn't feel like much of a life, but. it's the short term answer, or so it seems to me. another thing i remind myself of is how it all comes in waves. waves are the nature of both grief, and strong suicidal urges. maybe they're always running in the background, but the moments of pure despair where you feel like you're bursting at the seams, they're so strong and harsh that they flare out faster than you realize. and they feel unbearable, and i know those moments are very frequent when you're in our position, but it's good to remember that the intensity of their nature makes them temporary.  especially if the grief is fresh, every little thing triggers an avalanche of hopelessness.  but some part of me believes these experiences will either a. become less persistent with time or b. become a part of us we learn how to navigate.  at the moment, the simple act of being completely broken by these episodes means you're surviving them. i think it's not a matter of knowing how to cope, but knowing that if you're here to ask these questions - what do i do, how do i go on, etc - then that is proof you have been coping. and it probably doesn't feel like you have been. i think there's a common misconception that coping is thriving, letting go, having positive memories. and sure that's a part of it. but there is a lot of darkness and absolute horror to work through before that. additionally,  there is no rule book on how exactly to work through it. theres just time, experience, learning what works for you and hanging on. i'm trying to hold my own hand through it, i'm trying to look at the present moment i'm in and just think about what i need at that very second.  not what i'm going to do tomorrow, not what i should've done yesterday, but what i have to do right now to make it through.  a lot of the time the answer is nothing, and i just sit and stare or cry, because like i said, ultimately nothing can fix it. theres no epiphany that can change what happened. 

as far as practical things you can to do combat suicidal thoughts goes, i have a few suggestions that i really hope you consider as viable choices: talk to your doctor/therapist - idk where you live or what your financial situation is like, but if it's at all an option i would really urge you to seek professional help. at least let your GP know what you're dealing with so maybe they can refer you to a therapist, or give you some mental health resources. grief counselling is also a step in the right direction. having someone to talk to and implementing positive coping mechanisms into your day to day life, even if it's the last thing on earth you want to do, can work wonders. understanding your own suicidal thoughts, why you react the way you do and what you can do about it, can really come in handy when you're breaking down. it's ok to reach out. it's ok to visit different counsellors until you find one that fits you. it's ok to treat your emotional turmoil as seriously as you'd treat any physical disease. there is always support and treatment options available in some form, and it is always worth looking into.

call a (grief or suicide) hotline - i've had the hotline number open in my browser for days. if you are in a moment of crisis, it can absolutely help to have someone talk you through your emotions, listen to your pain, and then give you some gentle recommendations as to what you should do next or where to go from here. you don't have to tell them your name, you don't have to say anything you don't want to say. you're in control of the call and they care about keeping you going. you're not alone. theres also online grief support groups - i'm in a sibling loss group on fb.  it's absolutely crazy how many people are in this position. 

talk to your parents/family/friends - i know saying 'this is a tough one' is a giant understatement.  idk if it's the same for you, but i've been isolating to cope and i don't want to tell anyone what i'm thinking because they're already having such a hard time grieving my sister. but if there's anyone you trust, i just want you to know it's alright to lean on them. it's up to you how much you open up, but the urge to keep to yourself leads nowhere. those around you can relate (to an extent) with your grief, and sharing it, talking about memories and crying together - it's fucking awful, god it's the worst thing ever, but it's necessary. and i don't want to say it helps, but a shared burden is always better than trying to shoulder it alone. you deserve to be listened to and supported. and if you think you're being an inconvenience to your loved ones, that's your inner self hatred talking. they would likely rather be there for you when you need it, than have you harm yourself because you kept it all pent up. it's a lot easier said than done, but it's important to keep in mind that it's an option.

try to create a safe space - try to remove things from your living space you could use to harm yourself with, and make the environment as comforting as possible. refer back to safe coping mechanisms/ distractions that have worked in the past - this can be as simple as going for a walk, watching stupid shit on your phone, meditation, having a crying session, writing to your sibling or just about how you feel in general. these are not suggestions that will solve anything or cure mental illness by any stretch of the imagination.  they just get you out of your head. that can really make a difference. 

create a crisis plan and learn what triggers you - this is a bit of a process but that's alright. being able to identify what sets you off, and being able to recognize your own toxic thinking patterns/behaviours, is the first step towards combatting them. another idea is, if you do end up talking to a loved one or a mental health professional, come up with a plan with them regarding what they should do when you're suicidal and your judgement is impaired. you can even start by just making one for yourself, like writing down a few suggestions as to what you should do when you're in a crisis, what your other options besides suicide are. 

i think that's all i've got right now. i'm sorry this got so long, especially when i know nothing truly helps. i just know what it's like having all this useless life in front of you that you're going to have to fight through without the one person who always should've been there. i keep thinking about what she'd say to me if she could see me, and i know she'd be livid if i threw my life away, but. that doesn't change the fact that she didn't get to live hers, and that i miss her so so much it aches. i keep coming back to the idea that our relationship will continue to grow beyond  death. i can still talk to her, reminisce  with her, understand her, love her. so much of this reality was shaped by her. it's not the same as when she was here, but it's not total absence  either.  anyway, i'm so so sorry for your loss and i hope you can just focus on taking care of yourself, love. because your life still has so much worth and you deserve to see your own future even if you cant stand the thought. moments of happiness and peace are still 100% possible. it's just never going to feel like it did before. and it's ok if you spend the rest of your life struggling to come to terms with that fact, because at least you got to live the rest of your life. i'm sending so much love to you and i'll be here if you need a friend. one day at a time.

*no pressure to read all this you can just refer back to it whenever you feel the need

[spoplight]

standing on the edge of tonight

Would you look at that, here I am! I’ve never written a She-Ra fic before, but I wanted to give it a try, so I wrote this short pre-canon fic! I hope it’s somewhat in-character. I’m open to prompts, fic recs, and generally anyone who would like to say hi as I explore the fandom! Also, if you’d like to be added to a taglist, I can make one!

(Title is from The Edge Of Tonight by All Time Low. This fic is on Ao3 here!)

Words: 2742

Pairings: Catradora (pre-canon and pre-romantic)

Warnings: self-deprecation and self-hatred, implied abuse

“I‘m never going to be Force Captain.”

Catra raises her eyebrows as Adora practically tosses herself at the railing. She sinks low onto it and grumbles in protest. Of what, Adora’s not really sure. Of something.

“You’re kidding, right?” Catra teases. “Of course you’re gonna be Force Captain. You’re all law-abiding and boring, it’s bound to happen.”

“Boring?”

Catra smirks.

Adora sticks her tongue out, and usually this would lead to a play-fight, where Adora can grab Catra in a headlock or Catra can shove her to the side. Or they’ll just and catch each other. It’s a great night for a race, the sky warm and dark, and nobody expects them inside for a little while longer.

But Adora can’t find the heart.

She sighs, sinking further down on the railing and running a hand along the edge. Her hand catches on the rust. The wind ruffles her hair and she sighs again, tracing shapes in the clouds, feeling a loose and wavy kind of tired. She should be in bed. It’d be easier if she was in bed, getting sleep for tomorrow, but she’d come out here with Catra anyway. Of course she had. She couldn’t imagine just leaving Catra here alone, no matter how tired Adora felt.

No matter how terrible she feels right now, wind whipping her ponytail, staring into the clouds.

“Adora?” Catra asks in her special I’m-totally-not-worried tone. “Did something happen? Did--did Shadow Weaver--”

“No!” Adora interrupts. “No, nothing like that. I just--”

The words won’t come. She feels awful, she knows that much. So awful she can’t begin to imagine putting up a front like usual. Maybe she should try anyway. It’s not becoming of a Horde soldier to sulk.

Adora tries for a smile. It barely makes it onto her face before sinking away. So much for that.

“It’s fine,” Adora says anyway, convincing no one and only said for the sake of filling the silence.

“Doesn’t sound fine.”

Catra’s perched on the railing, tail around her legs, and Adora would be scared if she didn’t know Catra well. She swears Catra has never fallen in her life. It’s a long, dark drop below, and Catra swings her legs out over it, like she knows exactly what’s at the bottom and is positive she’d survive it.

“Adora?” Catra asks again.

“How was your day?” Adora blurts out, her voice too sharp. She can’t think of what else to do. “Pull any good pranks on Kyle?”

Maybe Catra wants the change of pace as much as Adora does, because her face splits in a smile and she begins rambling about some prank involving ration bars and an old helmet. Adora tries to listen, she really does. But everything’s so heavy tonight, and Catra’s words fall far below them before Adora can catch them.

“And then--Adora? Adora!”

“Here!” Adora jerks her head up. “I--”

“Adora,” Catra says, eyes unreadable if you were anyone but Adora, who knows those yellow eyes better than her own. “You weren’t listening.”

“Sorry.” Adora gives Catra a sheepish grin. “What were you saying?”

Catra tilts her head, tail lashing behind her. “Something’s definitely wrong. What is it? Who do I need to scratch? I will, don’t test me--”

“No one!” Adora looks pleadingly at Catra, who glares back, and Adora has a sinking feeling that Catra might just attack everyone if she doesn’t get a specific name.

Adora sighs.

“Nothing,” she says. “I--I just had training earlier, and Shadow Weaver--”

“I knew it!” Catra exclaims. “What’d she do?”

“Nothing!” Adora insists. “Catra, she’s not--”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Catra rolls her eyes. “Fine. What did Shadow Weaver, in her infinite wisdom and out of the goodness of her heart, say to you?”

Adora hesitates. “I didn’t do well in training.”

“No duh, you were sick last week.” Catra shrugs. “I still stay you should have taken a day off. It’s a good excuse to slack.”

“The Horde never rests,” Adora reminds her. “And it was just a cold.”

“Whatever.” Catra waves a hand. “So you were tired and didn’t get a perfect score on whatever weird simulation they cooked up today. Big deal. You’re still everyone’s favorite.”

Adora flinches despite herself. Catra’s eyes narrow, and Adora feels uncomfortably like they’re sparring, like Catra’s sizing her up and deciding whether to fight back.

“And Shadow Weaver,” Adora continues when Catra doesn’t say a word, “said that--that I couldn’t slack off like this. I’d be embarrassing both of us, and just because--” Adora cuts herself off. Catra doesn’t need to hear that part.

“What?” Catra asks anyway. Always so smart. Adora loves it, and tonight she wishes Catra would back off. For both their sakes.

“Nothing,” says Adora again, like that’ll make it true. “You don’t want to hear it.”

“Try me.” Catra’s hands are stiff on the railing. “Haven’t got all night, Adora.”

“She--” Adora bites her lip. “She said I couldn’t expect to succeed just because I wasn’t as--lazy--as you.”

There’s a long, bottomless silence.

“What?” Catra laughs. “Hey, you aren’t seriously worried that’ll bother me, right? Nothing I haven’t heard before! I work hard to do nothing, Adora, relax. It’s a compliment!”

“You should try harder,” Adora says, gladly jumping at the familiar argument. “It’s important for you to do your best.”

“Important for who, Shadow Weaver? Or Hordak in his stupid sanctum?” Catra swings around the railing, leaning back and tossing an arm over the side. “Why bother? Too much work. All the rest of you can take care of it--I don’t care.”

“You won’t become a Force Captain if you act like that.”

“Who said I wanted to be a Captain?” Catra snorts. “I don’t need any of those stupid little badges. I don’t care what they think of me.” She stills. “But you do.”

“Of course I do,” Adora says. “I’m going to be a Horde Captain. I’ll make myself useful--I’m a good fighter, they could use me. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Catra gives her a long look, and Adora gets the feeling she’s being judged, though she’s not sure what for.

“I get that,” Catra says, “but maybe keep that between us?”

“Why?”

“You’re putting it all out there,” Catra explains. “Why don’t you ever hold back? Choose how they see you, instead of letting yourself out in the open like that.”

“They see me for who I am,” Adora argues. “There’s no point in hiding it--I am a Horde soldier.”

“You are a Horde soldier,” Catra repeats. “And what happens when you aren’t enough? Like today?”

Catra doesn’t mean to hurt her. Adora knows that. But it stings, and Adora stares into the shifting sky to hide the prickling of her eyes.

“Today was an off day,” she says, keeping her voice steady. “I was tired. I’ll be better tomorrow.”

“And one day you’ll be tired again.” Catra watches Adora out of the corner of her eye. “One day they’ll stop giving you a tomorrow, Adora, it’d be so much harder to fall if you tried a little less!”

“What else am I supposed to?” Adora snaps.

“I don’t know!” Catra’s tail twitches, and her hands jerk, and she’s frustrated and so is Adora, and they’re pulled tight and ready to snap. “Lie low? Stop making a spectacle of your weaknesses? You’re so earnest all the time, can’t you set your standards a little lower?”

“I’m not going to fail to make you look better!”

Adora hates the words the moment they leave her mouth. Catra flinches back, eyes wide, and before Adora can do anything--what? What would she do?--Catra is turning away.

“Wait!” Adora yells, reaching out a hand. Catra runs down past the railing and jumps to a nearby pipe, and soon she’ll be out of reach, somewhere in the maze of metal that makes up their home.

“Wait! Catra! Please!”

Catra’s leaving. Catra’s leaving, because Adora messed up. It’s all her fault, she should have gone straight to bed and not bothered her best friend, how is she supposed to ever be Force Captain if she’s such a failure--

“I’m sorry!” Adora bursts out. “Catra, I’m sorry, and I’ll find you if I have to, but if you can, please stay!”

Catra is quiet, frozen, her tail twitching and her ears flat, balanced on the edge of a pipe and one jump from disappearing.

“I’m sorry,” Adora pleads, hearing her voice crack. “I didn’t mean that. I’m tired, I’m--I’m frustrated--please, Catra!”

There’s another long silence that sinks past them slowly. Adora feels vaguely like she’s falling, like the platform beneath her feet is tilting and giving way.

“Don’t leave,” Adora whispers. “Please.”

Catra glances back at her, and she can try to hide it all she wants, but Adora sees the tightness around her eyes.

“This isn’t about me,” Catra says slowly.

“I know,” Adora says, relief flooding her. “I know, I know, and we can talk about it if you stay.”

Slowly, so slowly, Catra inches her way back to the railing. She sits on it, hands around her knees, the wind blowing her hair. She’s not looking at Adora.

Adora’s apologized, but her words still hang in the air, and she doesn’t know what to do next.

“I was just trying to help,” Catra says quietly, her voice hard. “I just wanted to--you’re gonna get hurt, and I was trying to keep you safe.”

Adora laughs a bit, because it’s so strange to hear that. “No, that’s me, that’s what I do for you.”

“Yeah, and it’s not--” Catra huffs and starts again. “It isn’t--I’m not the only one in danger here, right?”

“Danger?” Adora repeats, and laughs again, because what else can she do? “Danger--Catra, this is our home!”

“And?” Catra gives Adora a challenging look, and Adora doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t get it. What is Catra saying--that Adora’s not safe? Of course Adora’s safe. There’s nowhere safer than here, in the heart of the Horde, under Shadow Weaver’s wing. If Adora trains hard, like she has her whole life, she’ll be the best. She’ll be worthy of everyone who gave her a chance. That’s how it is. It’s always been safe--it’s been everything Adora’s ever known.

And the only way to keep Catra safe is to be strong.

“Who am I kidding?” Catra mutters. “Of course you’re not. And of course hiding won’t work for you. You’re you and I’m me and--you could never pull it off.”

That makes sense. Catra is the one who hides, because Catra is the one who’s in trouble, because Catra is the one who gets herself into trouble. Catra is the one everyone hates. Adora isn’t like that.

Adora has never needed to hide.

But also, that doesnt make sense. Because Catra’s tone is tight and angry and sad and pointed in all the wrong places. Catra is upset, and Adora doesn’t know why.

“What do you mean?” Adora asks, hoping to coax Catra further.

Catra’s silent for a long, long time. “I worry about you, Adora.”

Adora’s breath catches in her throat.

“I get that it’s different. I get that everyone likes you. I get that you’re not the one who makes mistakes.” Catra turns to her, eyes wide. “But you’re setting yourself up for--Adora, can’t you keep yourself safe? Don’t you want to?”

“I am safe,” Adora says, feeling weirdly close to tears.

“You’re not going to be!” Catra waves a hand at her. “You’re always just so--so--insufferable! And you try too had, and--and if you’re so obvious about what you want, someone’s going to try and take it away!”

There’s a long, thick silence once again, and Adora’s chest is cold.

“Catra?” she asks softly.

Catra turns away. “Forget it.”

“Catra--”

“I said, forget it!”

Adora lets her voice grow quiet. “Is that why you don’t care about the Horde?”

“I don’t care about it,” Catra snaps. “You’ll do all the work and I can take half the credit, like always.”

Adora lets out a long breath. “Maybe--maybe if you let yourself have what you want, you could get it?”

Catra laughs. It’s an empty, harsh sound, and Adora hates it. “The world doesn’t work that way.”

“It could.”

“It doesn’t.”

Adora stares at her hands.

“Do you think,” she says slowly, “I could ever be a Force Captain?”

Because if Catra needs it, she will be. If Catra needs safety, she’ll give it. If Catra says Adora can do it, she can.

“Yeah, obviously,” Catra says, like it’s a fact. Something they learn in training. Princesses are the enemy, you don’t disrespect Shadow Weaver, and Adora is going to be the best one day. “Glad you’re done being stupid about that. You’ll be Force Captain and I’ll use that to get extra rations.”

“You’ll be Force Captain too,” Adora corrects. “Or--or higher, even. We could be more than that.”

“Could we?”

“Of course!”

“We could,” Catra says, as if Adora’s saying facts too, as if Adora is somehow convincing her by virtue of existing. Catra smiles. “I think we’d do a good job running the Horde.”

“We’d crush the princesses,” Adora says, beginning to smile back. “We’d both get new rations without needing to steal extra, we’d prank Kyle--”

“We’d see active duty,” Catra adds. “We’d see the world.”

“We’ll see the world.” Adora stares into the sky. “And we’ll--we’ll make it however we want. We’ll make it ours, just you and me.”

“Me and you,” Catra says, and in the light of the night sky, balanced against the wind, she looks like she really could conquer the world.

If she can do it, so can Adora.

If Catra needs it--if they both need it--Adora can try hard enough for both of them.

And they’ll make a world where they’re together, for as many nights as they need.

“Sounds like a plan,” Adora says, grinning.

“Sounds like the best plan.” Catra shrugs. “And, I mean, I guess you’ll have to train harder, if you want to rule the world and everything.”

“Yeah,” Adora admits. “So--”

“So I heard the training room is still open,” Catra finishes, looking at Adora hesitantly. “And I wouldn’t be caught dead doing extra credit, and this is not because I like you, but if you really need it--”

“You’d practice with me?” Adora’s eyes widen. “Really?”

Catra hisses and blushes. “Maybe--shut up! This doesn’t mean anything!”

But it does, and they both know it.

“Okay,” Adora says. “Let’s practice.”

“Great!” Catra jumps off the railing with a grin. “And I’m not gonna go easy on you.”

“I’ll still win!”

“You wish!”

Adora bumps Catra’s shoulder, and Catra bumps back, and now they’re chasing each other down the hallway, laughing, smiling so wide that Adora’s heart is going to burst from her chest. Catra’s laughing. Catra’s laughing and teasing Adora and it’s just the two of them, and nothing bad can happen as long as they’re together.

This is why Adora tries.

This is what Adora will fight for, and this is what she’ll do anything to protect. This is the world she will create, piece by piece, and this is the world she will train to deserve.

Her hand slips into Catra’s. Catra squeezes it. Adora squeezes back.

In the end, all Adora wants is this--for Catra to be happy.

And if Adora has to succeed, she will. If she has to lead, she will. If she has to be the best and the strongest and the fastest, if that keeps Catra safe and happy and under control and by her side, she will be.

Adora and Catra will rule the world together, and Adora can’t wait to see it.

But for now, it’s late, and they’re breaking into the training room. For now, Adora needs to prepare for a sparring session. For now, she has a long way yet to go.

And she won’t fail. She won’t stumble. She won’t fall.

Catra can land on her feet, Catra can hide and run and survive in the way only Catra can, but Adora gets one chance to make everyone proud.

Adora will rise, because she doesn’t have a choice.

And she’ll carve out a piece of the world for them. They deserve it, because the world has refused to give it willingly, and Catra needs a place to stay.

Adora will make that for her. It’s the least she can do.

Come anything, Adora will stay by her side.

[xadianwolf]

A personal ramble about Harrow's anger in "Thunderfall" and why it hit me (If you don't want to read it, scroll over to the red marking at the bottom)

So, in Season 3's episode "Thunderfall" we find out that Harrow still holds deep resentment and anger towards Avizandum for murdering Sarai. Having picked up on that, Viren searches for the spell capable of killing the Dragon King to help Harrow with the grief (and maybe even heal some of his own pain).

The sentences shared before cursing her spear speak for themselves. Viren's "Tell me you don't want justice? Tell me she wasn't your world?" and "I know your heart still burns with anger." clearly show his desire to help, but also to manipulate Harrow, preying upon his pain, which comes out when Harrow says :"I do hate him." , showing his anger and grief over what happened.

The reason it hits me on a personal level is because I've also been suffering with anger for many years: before starting 4th grade, my first dog passed away due to a generic disease. After that, two girls I considered "friends" picked up on it and, for no reason whatsoever, begun to bully me for liking dogs, making comments about them being dumb and gross, laughing over my dog's death and one time even telling me I stole one of their bike licenses when in reality, they just put it under my table. And yet for some reason, I continued being with them.

Similarly to Harrow, my heart has also veen burning with anger many years, especially since last year's autumn when, out of nowhere, one morning something happened and I begun to feel extreme hatred. I begun to think dark thoughts of being angry at my younger self for not standing up as well as wishing to find my old bullies to beat them, shout at them and make fun of them so they could feel the same pain I had to endure. And the scariest part about all of this is that sometimes, I wish they would endure MORE pain.

However, similarly to how the episode ends with a more hopeful tone of Team Zym breaking the cycle, there's also a good part: I'm slowly recognizing that what happened was sad and horrible, but that shouldn't let you become an asshole towards others even when it feels like they deserve all the bad things. In the end, inflicting pain onto others doesn't make you happy, it only makes things worse not only for you, but for people around you as well. This doesn't mean you should hide your pain and fond ways to deal with it and ease it. Cry if you feel like you need to, speak with people you trust, find healthy ways to cope, go visit a counsellor or a therapist etc. Easier said than done, I know, I'm also still struggling with all those things. But that doesn't mean you can't try them.

Please take care of yourselves. Don't let the past negativity dictate your life. Seek help from others if it feels like it's necessary and you can't continue alone.

Love, Wolfy 🐾

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

[malkumtend]

Peace, Battles and Deals. (Baypaw x Dewpaw) - characters owned by @lonely-ghost-606

Just a short fic for my friend @lonely-ghost-606 (check them out if you haven’t already!) This story is based on their characters Baypaw and Dewpaw. You may recognise Dewpaw as the abused daughter of the tyrant VioletStar of Willowclan from Ghost’s “Cut the Cord” animatic on their YouTube channel. All you need to know in preparation for this fic is that she is abused emotionally by her mother and is consistently compared to our other main character Baypaw. Baypaw is the son of Cleopatra and Strongheart, leader and deputy of WaterfallClan. He is widely regarded for his strength, as was expected of him by his parents but they do love him, but he is secretly troubled by the growing tensions between his parents as well as emotions he feels he has to keep secret from his clan mates. WaterfallClan and WillowClan are bitter enemies due to tensions over water resources.

With all that said and done. Let’s get going.

I leave when it gets dark. It isn’t easy getting out of the den without anyone noticing, but I manage. Mother and father remain asleep as I quietly step past them into the dark. I can’t help but smirk when I see them asleep. The all-knowing, poweful leader and deputy dozing away while their son runs off, the clan would probably laugh if they found out. There’s a small pride that feels warm in my chest at the thought that I’m besting them in some way. But softly, I begin to take in the bizarreness of what I’m seeing. They’re so close. Silent, calm, asleep besides each other. Even with the noticeable distance between them, it’s still something. It’s better than… My smile drops, and I groan in irritation. I needed to get out of there.

Surprisingly, it’s even easier to get out of camp. The night patrol is nowhere to be seen and I never smell any WaterfallClan scent when I finally leave clan territory. I know I’m far away to be safe when the steady rush of water fades away, leaving me in the welcome silence of the night.

I sigh in relief, allowing myself a deserved grin. Though maybe, I think, it is worrying our patrols are so useless that they can’t keep a single apprentice in. Then again, I wasn’t just any apprentice. Thanks to my parents, I knew the territory like the back of my paw. I’d have to know that much if I was ever going to…

I shake my head again, this time growling, as soon as the unwelcome thought crawls in.

I begin to pace further from the camp. The moon is full tonight, lighting the forest as if it were my own personal guide. Maybe even the stars are being generous because they know who I am. I snicker a little. I don’t let my guard down, of course. I roll my eyes as StrongHeart’s voice fills my head. Never try to take comfort from being alone. When you’re alone, you’re at your most vulnerable. As if I would be so foolish. I know perfectly well to keep fixed for any possible fight; I was a Warrior after all. Besides, it was my enemy who would be sorry if they tried to sneak up on me. I wasn’t some soft apprentice; they’d soon find that out. If they wanted a fight, they’d better know to bring an army.

Still, I keep to the shadows, tasting the air every couple of seconds. After all, it would do no good if I got a few silly wounds. I didn’t want to make Cleopatra suspicious.

When I approach the river, I scent again for any WillowClan patrols. The stars knew those fox-hearts were always trying to take more water than they needed for that mange-pelt they called a leader. The thought of raking my claws on their pelts was definitely tempting, but thankfully, for them, they seemed to be sticking to their territory for once. The line between out territories was broad enough, so it was easy to make my way along without getting too close.

I just wanted to get out of WaterfallClan for a while. I couldn’t sleep and the thought of walk that could help clear my head of any ‘undesirable’ thoughts was too much to take. I’d have just been tossing and turning until some cat woke up and scolded me, it would be best to get out for a bit. It wasn’t like I had anything important tomorrow, just another training session then some hunting. I’d be fine, I could always pass through that stuff in my sleep.

Being tired because of a moonhigh walk sounded a lot better than being tired because I couldn’t stop thinking about the stupid stuff.

I only briefly take my head away from the trail beside the river, but I stop. Just a tree-length away, I could see what might have been a thousand shadowy shapes. They draped down, swaying in the light breeze, so close to the water they might have been stroking it in long green tongues. Behind them, I saw a thick, but stumpy, tree trunk that stood tall, holding its cluster of leaves that hung like thin claws. Willow trees. I’d never seen them this close. They weren’t typically found on our clan territory. And from what I could tell, this land wasn’t part of WillowClan either. I couldn’t catch their reek at least. I walk closer, admittedly a little in awe at how large the trees were. The leaves were soft on my coat and tickled slightly when I brushed past them. The soil was unusually moist and littered with light green leaves that flickered like stones in the small traces of light. The shadows themselves had an emerald sheen that was nothing else but alluring as I padded through the hanging shrubs.

The shrubs weave together as if they were linking tails, crossing their soft leaves, creating a small tunnel as I carry on. I can smell something new coming over me. Something floral, a lot of flowers actually, spicy and sweet. The dampness leaves my paws as I feel the ground become solid, yet smooth. The grass sticks up, fresh and sharp, but they feel like feathers as they brush my fur.

Slowly, the narrow tunnel widens as the willows jet back, letting the grassland expand in a luminous green. The colour is dim but almost blinding when it gleams in the dark. My jaw drops. I’ve never seen a meadow like this before on any hunting patrol. The grassland around WaterfallClan was typically wet and your paws typically sank into a gross coat of mud. But this was crisp, gentle, alluring even.

Approaching the centre of a small hill I can see more colours flash. Flowers, I realise. A wide array of flowers and herbs I hadn’t even seen in the medicine den. I take a light smell at the closest one, its orange petals wide and succulent with nectar, and I almost feel ashamed by the way the gentle aroma makes my pelt quiver.

I look up at the meadow and I’m suddenly smiling. Has anyone ever found this land before? The small prick of doubt makes me purr. It makes me think of how this meadow was mine. My discovery. My place. I am alone under the green sheen of willow, alone with the fresh grass and the delicate herbs. My head buzzes a little, and I am softly aware of my blood becoming warm.

And then I’m laughing.

Not the laughter I craft when I best an apprentice in training, or when a mentor compares their sulking student with me. All those times, I just laughed because I felt there was nothing else I was meant to do.

But right now. I’m laughing hard. Because the suddenness of the glee and the peace makes it so I can’t stop.

I start leaping across the grass, as if the indents of my paws in the grass will mark the meadow as my own. I’m careful to not displace any flowers as I breathe in the wave of smells that stroke my muzzle and vibrate in my throat. With no eyes on me, I relish for a moment. I could fixate on how my heart beats so loud that I can’t hear anything else.

Here I could just have some time to myself.

There were no apprentices I needed to fight.

There were no talks of war with some stupid clan.

There was no worry here at all. Just me. I could take this in all I wanted. And here, that peace wouldn’t be interrupted by the abrupt stab of an argument I’d be forced to witness.

I find myself at the top of the hill and then I’m rolling down, twisting through laughter and grass, letting the memories ooze like dirt in the soil. My throat begins to hurt a little, and my back bumps on a few stray mole hills, but I don’t care. Finally, I’m on my back, embedded in a nest of wildflowers.

There’s some pressing need inside of me to stay there, that everything will stay great if I don’t move. I blink up at the swaying willow leaves, dancing as if they were birds in the sky. My back feels warm, I’m pressing my paws into the flowers beside me, paddling in petals and nectar that don’t break under my touch.

Everything is just natural here. I close my eyes, not bothering to hide my purr. This is something I could get used to.

“What are you doing here?”

The voice is scratchy, intervening, rough and unfriendly. Worst of all, I recognise it.

Of course. My eyes open into the glare. Of all the scum, it would have to be her.

I’m on my paws before I know it, shaking away any traces of flower or dew. My muscles are stiff with adrenaline and panic. The scent of WillowClan immediately attacks me and I bristle with disgusted anger. But it’s the sight of her that makes me growl. She’s there, bristling like me, a treelength away.

When I’ve seen her before at four-trees, she’s always had that same unlikable aura that permeates around her now. Maybe that was why she was always on her own. Served her right for always looking so sullen and moody all the time.

Then again, that wasn’t a shock. If I’d been unlucky enough to be tortured with that thing as my mother, I wouldn’t be smiling either. I couldn’t help but hate her. She looked so much like that fox-heart it was impossible to like her.

There’s a mixture of hatred and confusion on her face. Honestly it might match her fur to some degree. The confusion sitting in the light violet-grey side of her face, while the anger storms in the darker shade that horrifically takes up the other side. I sniff, my anger growing. Her mother is definitely obvious on her.

“What are you doing here?” I demand. The beauty of the area darkens with her mere presence.

Her fangs glint in a crooked way. “I asked first!”

“Yeah?” I scoff, “Well you can answer first too!”

I hear her growl in a pathetic attempt of intimidation. “A long way off your territory, aren’t you? I could practically smell fish from my den.”

“Last time I checked, this wasn’t your territory either, Dew-drop.” I fuel myself on the way her fur spikes.

“Don’t call me that! We’re closer to my territory than yours.” She narrows her eyes even more. “Is WaterfallClan looking to steal more land? Why am I not surprised?”

Now I’m the one who growls. “You’re the thieves, not us! I was just going for a walk, and I certainly wasn’t looking to have anything to do with your worthless clan!”

As if to spite me, she just smirks at me. If she’s looking to get me mad, she’s definitely succeeding! “Don’t you think you should be walking a little closer to your clan? You’re lucky our patrols haven’t ripped off your fur for bedding yet.”

“Pfft! Why would I be scared of your clan?” I flash my claws at her, strengthening up in a way I knew was threatening.

I can see her jaw clench, but her smirk stiffens with another warning blink of her sharp glare. “Careful, mamma isn’t here to keep you safe, river-rat!” There’s a dare to her voice, almost like she wanted me to rip her to shreds. I must admit, with her fur on edge like that, she does look almost like a worthy challenge.

Almost.

“Heh.” I meet her dare with a step forward. “I don’t need back up for any of your scum.” I’m trying hard to scare her off. As easy as it would be to tear her apart, I really couldn’t be bothered. I came here because I wanted to relax. The sweet scent of the flowers wouldn’t be so appealing if they were coated in the stink of her blood.

But like the idiot she is, she takes another step forward. My teeth clench with aggravation. “Then why don’t you prove it if you’re so tough, big guy?”

Part of me wants to meet her threat with my claws. But I relent. I wasn’t as much of an idiot as she was. I didn’t need to get into some pointless fight over some Tyrant’s spawn. “As gratifying as it would be to put you in your place, I prefer an actual fight.” I inhale the fury that sparks on her face like the warm smell of prey. “I’d get a better battle out of a kit than you.”

“Coward!” She hisses. I scoff.

“Whatever.” I turn away from her, impatient to get back to the other side of the hill. “Do me a favour and keep away from me, eh? Smells better on the other side.” I’m ready to block out whatever stupid mouse-dung that she could come up with.

But she surprises me.

“Oh sure, I wouldn’t want to get in the way of your cuddle time with the flowers. Guess that kittypet blood really did make you soft.”

I’m not sure if it’s the fact that she saw what I wanted to keep secret, or the direct insult against my mother, but my blood is immediately boiling, and I’m suddenly sprinting at her.

I’m satisfied when I see a slight jolt come over Dewpaw as I rush at her. To her credit, she doesn’t run away. She pounces at me first, but that’s her first mistake. I slink down onto my belly, using my pace to push me underneath her as she whirls over my head. She doesn’t twist her body, so it’s easy to land a quick strike at her exposed side.

She yowls, landing on her paws with a grunt. She’s quick to turn back to me. “Lucky hit.” She hisses. I get into a fighter’s crouch, placing one paw in front, ready to hit, and one paw back in case I needed to change positions swiftly. I can’t help but laugh silently at how she immediately braces for another pounce; did they teach the apprentices anything in WillowClan. This was going to be easier than I thought.

I’m similarly shocked and disgusted by her idiocy as she pounces forward again, clearly wanting to land some swing at my chest. She was so obvious she may as well have been saying out loud what she was thinking. I just have to side step to easily dodge her and I do it again when she furiously swings at my legs. She’s getting frustrated and that’s her second mistake.

Frustration made you desperate.

“Missed again!” I have to sing when her paw whirls at nothing again, she actually almost loses her balance. I smile to myself. If I wanted to, I could have killed her at so many times during this pointless excuse of a ‘fight’. “If this is the best WillowClan can offer, I’m honestly sympathetic for you lot.”

She lets out a lungeful of air. “Shut up!” She screams. It’s working. If I make her angry, she’ll just get even more desperate, and will soon tire herself out. Then it’ll be easy to pin her. There wasn’t even really a need to mess her up, she wasn’t any kind of threat.

Her next two swipes are just as easily missed, and I’m able to jump over her when she pounces at me again. “Fight back!” She demands.

“Nah. This is more fun!” I take a moment to laugh to myself as she pants in exhaustion.

And that was my mistake.

Because with a surge that wipes away all her exhaustion she darts forward and when I pounce to my side, she instantly follows me with a twist of her body that catches me off guard. Before the smile can leave my face, I feel her paw pound against my cheek. Hard. The following swift hit is just as painful.

I catch my feet well, but the shock makes my heart pound. My teeth ache from the hit, but I keep that hidden. How had she been able to turn like that when she was so tired? And she was tired. Darting a look at her, I can see her fur poofed out like she was ready to drop there. But her paws remained stoic, and her legs didn’t quiver.

And she was smiling. Smiling in a proud way that made me glower.

“No.” She spat out. “That was fun.”

Okay. I admit my foolishness to myself and curse it. No more taking it easy.

I wait for her to obviously lunge at me again, and this time I don’t dodge her. I take advantage of what I’d seen before. My paw swings down onto her back, dizzying her. She met the ground, this time her legs buckling. She tries to get up quickly, but I don’t give her the time.

My paws are on her back before she can let out a grunt. My back legs rest on her spine, and one fore paw presses hard on her neck. She writhes around, screaming bloody murder, but I’m not giving her the chance this time.

“Give up.” I offer mercifully.

Her response would have made a prophet gawk.

I groan and slip off for a moment so I can wrench her onto her back. My paws find her chest again and I’m holding her down once more. But this time my forepaw is on her neck. “I could kill you.” If I wanted, my claws could unsheathe and that would be it for her.

Her eyes meet mine and the defeat I expect is muted. The fight lingers and holds there, stubbornly refusing to expire. She doesn’t stop writhing. Irritation is beginning to replace my anger. What was with this molly? Didn’t she know when she’d lost?

Under my paw I can feel her ferocious growl. “Then why don’t you try it?” I can almost see my shocked reflection in her fangs.

Apparently not.

I could have put an end to her right there. It would have just taken a spasm in my paws.

But she’d called my bluff.

I groan again. What a pain? I didn’t want to kill her; I didn’t really even want to hurt her. I’d already won. There was no point in doing anything drastic with her.

Besides, she’d already ruined enough. I’d come here to avoid this very kind of situation. But I’d let her pull me into her stupid mindgames. This realisation just adds to my irritation, and my desire to beat her dwells a little more.

Eventually, I’m too annoyed to hold her down anymore. I push myself off her with a huff, glaring at her as I smooth down the ruffled patches of fur. “Like I’d start some war over you.” I hiss.

The look she’s giving me is both smug and furious. She gets to her paws quickly, as if she couldn’t remember how badly she was losing. Maybe she was that stupid. “What’s the matter?” She spits, “Too afraid to finish a fight?”

I’m too angry to let her provoke me. “That wasn’t a fight.” I meow. “That was a beating.” I wouldn’t even say I was taunting her there, but her claws flex again. A voice warns me that she’s dumb enough to lunge at me again.

By some miracle however, she’s smart enough to just let out a bitter hiss and remain where she is. “That mark on your face says otherwise.”

I’m confused for a moment, then I hear the small droplet of blood hit the ground beneath me. My eyes widen. She had her claws unsheathed? Fox-dung, she hated me that much? I growl, I hadn’t bled in a fight for ages. The last thing I wanted was for her to do it.

“Lucky hit.” I reply, “You were the one pinned down, not me.”

As I wipe a washed paw across the wound, I await her response. It doesn’t come. My lips purse, and I turn, half-thinking she was planning some cowardly attack. She’s sitting down, glaring at the ground. There’s something dark mixing with the clear anger on her face. It’s similar to the face she usually has at the gatherings.

I snort quietly. Whatever. Like I cared! What ran through her head was nothing I wanted anything to do with. As long as she kept her distance, we’d be fine.

My stomach sinks a little. There wasn’t really a reason to stay here anymore. Whatever peace I’d wanted to gather was gone now. Plus, I’d have to think of some excuse for how this stupid cut got on my face. The only good thing was that she’d have to find an even better excuse for all the dirt and bruises that stuck to her pelt.

I groaned, it still wasn’t like her problems did anything to quell mine. I began to pad back home again. The stink of WillowClan and blood was mixing in my head and it was slowly making my blood run a horrible cold.

“Where are you going?” I hear her shout behind me, like I was doing something wrong. “We’re not done.”

“Yes we are.” I say, not looking back. I wasn’t wasting any more time with her. “I’m going back to my Clan. Why don’t you do the same?”

“I don’t follow your orders!”

I roll my eyes. This crazy molly! “Fine! Do what you like then.”

It’s silent for a second as I walk up the hill. “You going back to your flower patch?” I can hear the smirk in her voice.

I turn back, my eyes trying to burn away whatever stupidity has seemed to overtake her. “You didn’t see anything?”

She laughs. Obviously pleased that she’s lured me back. “Oh, I think I did. And I think a lot of my friends would love to hear about what the strongest apprentice in the forest gets up to when he thinks no one’s watching.”

My face is a raging fire, enough that it would scare off any apprentice I knew. But she isn’t like them. Her blood is as cold as stone. Underneath my snarls, I am panicking, even if it’s just a little. “You wouldn’t dare.” My grit teeth don’t falter. “I bet you don’t even have any friends.”

Dewpaw’s head twitches to the side. “Is that a fact? Oh, then I guess you don’t have anything to worry about.”

The change is so strong we both notice it. The power shift. It makes my insides clench, while she straightens brightly. If I denied it, my clanmates more than likely wouldn’t believe her, but my parents would most definitely get suspicious, and worst of all Violetstar would use any rumour she could against WaterfallClan. And regardless of whether it could be proven or not, that would only heighten the tensions between our clans.

“You rat.” I hiss, I’m ashamed of how soft my voice sounds.

She shrugs, “Yeah, it’d be pretty embarrassing for you, wouldn’t it?”

I take another step forward, “Are you trying to get yourself mauled?”

“You can do what you want, I’ll still get away. By the next gathering everyone will know.” She warns. I stop in my tracks as I sense she’s about to run.

I have to try and keep calm. If I act like I don’t care there’s still a small chance I can throw her off. I wave my tail at her dismissively, “No one in my clan will believe you. And if you think I care one bit what your kind thinks of me, then you’re a real mouse-brain.”

“If that’s the case, then go ahead and get gone.” The way she says it, so sure of herself, admittedly makes me feel ill.

I don’t move. I can’t move. I feel like prey cornered onto a cliff. Every thought I try to make just makes my heart race all the more. In her eyes, I can see she isn’t seeing what everyone is meant to. She’s seeing something else. Something vulnerable. The parts of myself I love and hate so much. I haven’t felt so pathetic for so long.

I look up at her. Her eyes are narrowed and her lips are thin. Thinking. Probably figuring out what kind of blackmail she can use to torture me. My paws are shaking either from anger or humiliation. I don’t want to know which. I think again how I could easily silence her if I wanted to.

But she’s caught me. She knows I wouldn’t do it. She can see it in the way I stupidly bite my lip. I sigh, defeated. I have no choice but to await it.

“Tell you what,” I brace myself as she starts, darting a look of hate her way. She doesn’t flinch. Her mind is made up. “If you tell me what you’re really doing here, I’ll keep your little secret.”

I stiffen, trying to make sense of what I’ve heard. She can see I don’t trust her. “What?”

“You heard me. I don’t think your deaf.”

I unlatch my jaw, “I was just out on a walk.”

“That’s nice.” She says smoothly, “Now how about the truth?”

The fire smokes in my throat again, choking me, blazing in me. “Why do you care?” I force out. There’s no point in lying to her. Apparently that Tyrant blood had decided to give her mind reading powers.

She just shrugs, her tail waves impatiently.

I want to scoff and storm away, but that would do no good. She’s unnaturally controlled right now, nothing like the rushing, impulsive fool I’d fought just a few moments ago. Her eyes patiently lie on me, her claws tapping the ground like a waiting mother. Her aura of smugness makes me want to vomit.

Instead, I think up the closest thing I can think of that will make the truth yet hide the worst parts.

“I… I just wanted to find someplace to relax okay?” I force out roughly. She waits still so I go on a little more. “Training wears me out a little, alright, of course I need to unwind a little sometimes.”

She raises a brow rigidly, “Why not do that at your own clan?”

I blink quickly to hide the voices and images that flash over me. My eyes find the ground, still straight enough to look strong. “It’s more… relaxing on my own. No idiot’s gonna bother me here.”

Or so I thought. I keep that part shut. She doesn’t.

“I thought the same when I came here.” Her snicker makes me growl. “Oh relax, don’t be such a stick in the mud.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” I mutter, glancing back at her. I’m sick of this now. “There, I told you why I came. Now will you keep your mouth shut?”

She must see something I hate because she’s smirking again. Don’t kill her. Don’t kill her. Not yet.

“So, you come here because you wanted to relax with some flowers?” Her voice is more questioning than unkind. It doesn’t stop me from groaning.

“I wasn’t looking for the flowers.”

“But you were resting in them?”

“I could have rested anywhere!”

“I could hear you smelling them. You were purring.”

Oh for the love of- “Look we had a deal; will you keep quiet about this or do I have to make you?” It comes out of me too hoarse to be threatening.

Her chest settles down softly, the stiffness in her eyes has faded, replaced by something I can’t describe. She’s laughing, but it sounds different. “Relax. I’ll keep your secret.”

I’m just about to let the silent relief come to me.

“But, in exchange for keeping your other secret, I want your help with something.”

Something in my chest explodes. A thousand dark voices are screaming somewhere in my chest. “What?!” I yowl. “What other secret?”

“The reason you’re hear of course!” She smiles at me, mockingly sweet. Her eyes gleam like a fox’s.

Starclan, whatever I did to deserve this, I repent my sins. I will literally grovel for hours at your mercy if you’ll kindly make her drop dead, right here.

“You slimy little-”

She raises her paw at me, waving my threat away. “Yeah yeah, let’s get to the point okay? If you want me to keep quiet about that, you need to do something for me.”

I run my paws into my eyes until I see spots. My claws are digging into my fur, desperate to latch to anything that resembles flesh. I should have known she’d trick me like that! “And what it that?” I speak like I’m vomiting out smoke and mud.

When I look at her, anticipating her smug exterior, my anger gives way to surprise. Her paw is covering her mouth like she was hiding a scar of some kind. Her eyes are wistful, darting to the sky as if the trees would speak for her. And there’s some kind of darkness on the patches of fur below her eyes.

I edge back, my mouth opening. Was she blushing? My heart begins to pound and I can feel some kind of tremor in my tail. Just what the heck was she going to ask me to do?

“I… w-want you to t-train here with me.”

I look away then back at her. I try to find any difference on her exterior. The only thing I can see is that she’s blushing harder! She was being serious!

“Say that again?” She wanted to train with me?

“I’m not saying it again!” She snaps, her hostile glare coming back like it belongs there.

“Why on Silverpelt would you want me to train with you? Better yet, why the heck would I ever come back here just to train with you?”

She huffs, her ears digging back. “One – I’ll keep your secret if you do. Two – if you do it, that means after we’re done you can go back and sniff flowers all you want.” She ignores my hate filled face. “And three…” She loses her breath, trailing away with a bitter mutter.

“What?”

She forces herself to look back to me. “I need to train. It’s… hard training back home. I’m sick of losing to the likes of you.”

I resist the urge to snap back at her. I’m genuinely put off by how odd she looks. It was like she was doing everything she could to avoid my eyes. “Why can’t you train with your clanmates?”

“I would if I could. But they wouldn’t dare try and take me on seriously.”

“Why?”

The anger on her face is morphing. Her eyes darken and her breath shakes as she hisses. “You know why.”

Once again, she looks similar to how I’ve always seen her. And now I can recognise the look that makes her fur slacken and her teeth clench. She was miserable. I just needed to look at her, look at who she was, to see why.

“Okay.” I sigh, finding myself bored. “So why do you want my help?” Something clicks in my head that makes me chuckle. “Is this you willing to admit I’m better than you?”

She twists up, her tail lashing, but a fake grin on her muzzle. “Well, you’ll certainly do.” She looks away again, her façade morphing into a neutral expression. “I just need to fight with someone who I know won’t go easy on me.” I snort. That would certainly be me. “Whatever training I can get, I’ll take.”

“Hm.” I mutter quickly, “Well you’ll have to keep looking. I don’t want to train with you.” Coming here for the sole purpose of fighting with some cat I hated was actually more that the exact opposite of what I came here to do. I wasn’t going to help my enemy get better. Spending time, no matter how forced it was, with her was worse than any punishment I could imagine.

“I don’t want to particularly want to train with you!” She exclaims angrily, then glowers to her side, her whiskers drooping. “But I don’t have a lot of other choices.” Light blue pupils swipe back at me with an ugly sneer. “And neither do you, if you want me to keep quiet.”

She has a point there. But I’m still not convinced she’ll stick to this deal. Besides that meant I would have to come out here when she wanted me too! “I’m not risking getting caught for you.”

“Just lie and say you were going for a walk. I’ll be sneaking out too, you know. You’re not the only one making a risk here.”

“What happens if I can’t turn up because I’m caught? You’ll just go back on your deal because you thought I was dodging you!”

“Well, would you?”

Probably. It just hits me then that I’ve told her a plan I could have taken. I growl weakly. I wasn’t thinking straight at all around this pest.

“How about this then?” She says, her tail waving along the grass. “If one of us doesn’t turn up that night, the next night we’ll catch up from there, and if you don’t show up that time, then I’ll let slip your little secret.” She snaps. “At least then I’m giving you a chance then.”

Giving me a chance? I would have been doing it because of her! “Am I supposed to be grateful to you for that?”

Her tone is blunt. “Yes.”

And now she’s looking more like her mother. My claws want to scratch at the ground. This wasn’t fair. I still had more to lose than her if I took part in this stupid deal. The situation cuts into me deeper and deeper with each passing thought. Surely there had to be something I could use against her. I think for a moment and find myself leering at her.

“What if I told everyone how you asked another clan cat for training help? What if I told them why you didn’t want to train with your clanmates?” I spit at her, feeling the tide slowly ease off me. She had secrets she had to keep as well.

Her eyes fill incredulously, but it’s just for a moment. She soon shrugs. “Then I guess we both lose, huh?”

Horror overtakes me again. My tongue trembles on my jaw. Was she really not fazed at all? If she didn’t care then there would be no point in telling anyone. I begin to feel disgusted by the fact that unlike her I have a reputation to keep. I try again, scowling. “You really want your mother finding out about that?”

She laughs. It’s dry. Toneless. Unreserved. But she actually laughs. “That’s my problem, not yours. You’d be surprised how little difference it would make.” She sniffs, staring coldly at me. The weight of her words hangs in the air, but it gives her the control she needs. Her eyes light with evil amusement as she watches me splutter.

She really didn’t care.

My breathing has become audibly clear with panic. Everything seemed to press into me like a swarm of badgers. But more than anything it was the powerlessness she had talked me into. That was it. She’d just had to lure me here and now I was shaking like some kind of frozen elder. I think of what Cleopatra or Strongheart would do if they could see me like this in front of an enemy.

They might actually join together for once just to scold me. Like normal parents.

I don’t know why but Dewpaw doesn’t look like she wants to laugh at me. She stares at me, awkward and confused. I don’t want to think how I look. If I do, I might actually feel tears fight to come out.

I hear her cough absently. “Look, all you have to do is come here and train with me for a while.” She says, I hesitate to call the tone soft. Soft didn’t match her at all. “After we’re done, I’ll leave you alone and you can relax all you like. And I’ll keep quiet about it.”

I glance at her, stonily. She sighs. “Okay. I promise I’ll keep quiet about this if you train with me. Swear on my clan.” She brushes her paw over her heart like some silly kit. “It means we both get what we want. I get to train, you get to do… whatever you want, okay?”

She’s watching me mull over her words. I’m desperate yet reluctant. I can’t help it. This has stormed over the land like the rush of the waterfall. Truthfully, I knew I didn’t really have a choice. I couldn’t let her get loose with what she knew. I look over her, her toned, but unimpressive, muscles. I could just tell that training with her would be a fool’s errand. There was no way she would beat me, even if she did learn how to properly move in a fight. I’d just end up beating her every night.

Somewhat of a pleasant idea, but not enough for me to want to sneak off every night.

But I suppose that what I want doesn’t really matter. The only want I could sustain was her silence.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. My lips thin as I consider this. I’d get some time away from WaterfallClan, and it wasn’t like I’d have to spend all night training her. I’d just battle her, say some light moves that wouldn’t make her too powerful, and then maybe she’d finally be satisfied to leave me alone. If I was being honest, the very fact she would want to train with me was a sign enough that she couldn’t afford to be picky.

My eyes go to the corners. She’s still there sat down. I can see an impatient frown on her muzzle. I can see her tail thumping crossly on the ground. But most of all, I can see the vague, lightless hope in her eyes.

Something inside me gives way and I let out a sharp groan. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

She perks up, her chest puffing out with a meow. Quickly a frown comes to her though, and we resume glaring at each other. “Okay, great. Guess that means your secret’s safe.”

“You make sure it is.” I hiss at her. Just because I’d agreed to help her, it didn’t mean I had to be nice. She wouldn’t be, I knew. “Unlike you, I have a reputation to uphold. So, keep it shut that I go here!”

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever. Sure thing, flower-patch.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“I can’t make that promise.” Her eyes flash at me mischievously, a playful way that doesn’t match her at all. I have no control of my eyes as they widen. “You keep yours and we’ll be just fine.” She says. She turns away from her, tail swaying to and fro in a manner of goodbye. “I’m going. We’ll meet here tomorrow night.”

My fur thins down, “Tomorrow?”

She looks back, one eye widened, the other mockingly drooped halfway. “What? You got a date or something?” The half-opened eye winks at me as a cool grin forms on her mouth.

Against my will, I flush a little. In the emerald night, her fangs glint like arrowheads under the water. My silence is telling; the way my eyes are trying to make her erupt into flames are even more so.

“Didn’t think so.” She purrs. I watch her as she walks away, still racing from the embarrassment of this night. “Have fun!” She calls back to me. I scoff at her poor mockery.

It was a mocking call, right? Of course it was! Best to return it. “Hope those scratches make your clan suspicious, Dewdrop!” I hiss at her back.

“These things?” She doesn’t turn back but I can feel her holding back a snarl. “Oh please, there so tiny I’ll just blame them on playing with a kit.”

The tight rage in my chest keeps me quiet enough that I don’t respond. Her tail lashes again, swift and seamless. See you tomorrow. It might mean. I don’t really care if it does or not. She gently disappears under the willows until she’s nothing but a shade of the night. Soon, I’m alone again.

I can’t help but feel like I have to grunt. I still can’t believe what I’ve agreed to. How a journey for a night of peace could go so wrong? I make my way back to the untrampled flowers, breathing them in to quell the ill density in my stomach. This is what I was here for, and I was alone like I wanted, I didn’t need to think about her anymore.

But she’s really ruined my night.

Because she’s worked her way in. Either because of her words or the battle she forced out of me, but I can’t stop thinking about her disgusting grin or her rough laughter. Instead of the flowers sweet nectar, I smell her damp, earthy scent, clouding the area like a toxic fog. I try several different patches and at least a hundred breeds that I’d never seen before, but it remains lingering around me like a rogue in my camp. Unwanted. Dangerous even.

I cannot repress the thoughts, and soon enough I’m too sour and angry to want to stay here anymore. I don’t even think I want to come back. But I have to. My paws cut away at the ground in anger. Why did she have to ruin everything? I exhale through my nose. There was no point looming on it, that was probably what she wanted.

But even that doesn’t stop it. Even after I’ve left the area, even as I find my way back to clan camp, and even as I’ve creeped back to my nest and curled down to sleep again, that image remains. Her looking back at me, smiling smugly, white fangs shining in my head.

I cover my eyes with an internalised, hateful groan. This was not what I expected to fall asleep to. AT ALL.

[dlwritings]

Confused Love | Dean Winchester

masterlist found here

pairing - Dean x reader word count - 3,689 warnings - reader has panic attack, Dean’s kind of a dick which fuels some angst A/N - for @originalposter-96​ who requested! | title inspired by this post

summary - You and Dean aren’t always on good terms, but when you’re both alone at the bunker, things go from bad to worse. Then again, it’s always darkest before the dawn.

You and Dean had a love hate relationship. Most of the time, it leaned towards hate, but there was love sprinkled in. At least from your end. Because the truth was, you were crazy about the eldest Winchester.

You felt like a stupid girl in high school, pushing away your feelings with crude and brash attempts at humor. In turn, Dean treated you the same. So, realistically, the way he treated you was your fault. He had likely always seen your attitude as hatred, so he returned it with the same force. What he didn’t know was that insulting the boy you had a crush on was how you had been coping with feelings since elementary school. It wasn’t your way of playing hard to get. It was your way of pushing away the other person before they could push you away first.

It may not’ve been the healthiest coping mechanism, but it worked.

There was only one person who knew of your true feelings for Dean, and that was Jack.

It was easy to talk to Jack, because he didn’t judge. It was like the boy was incapable of doing so. All he did was listen to you with his innocent eyes, only occasionally responding with questions or comments. He did his best not to interrupt, but there were still emotions that he didn’t quite understand. “But if you feel this way about Dean,” he once asked you, “why do you fight so much?”

You sighed. “It’s complicated.” When Jack didn’t say anything -only tilted his head in confusion- you sighed again. “It’s really hard to let people in sometimes.”

“You let me in,” he said.

“Well yeah,” you said, smiling softly at him, “but you’re different.”

“You mean because you don’t love me,” he said.

“Course I love you,” you said with a laugh of disbelief, reaching out and putting your hand on his cheek.

“But not like you love Dean,” he deducted. You just hung your head and dropped your hand. You avoided his question.

“It’s hard to tell people how you feel when there’s no guarantee they’ll feel the same,” you continued. “So I just, I push people away. Sometimes I think bad emotions are easier to handle than good ones. It’s easier to pretend to hate him than it is to love him.” You laughed dryly and shook your head. “I think there was a part of me that thought if I pretended to hate him long enough, I would start to really hate him.”

“But that didn’t work?” Jack asked.

“No,” you said. “Not even a little bit.”

Jack did not understand, and you could read it on his face. “Humans are weird,” you reminded him.

“Sure,” Jack said with a slow nod, “but this seems weird, even for humans.”

Well, he had you there.

A few weeks later, you found yourself alone at the bunker. Jack and Cas were out on one case, and Sam and Dean were on another. Usually they took you along, but you had just gotten back from helping Claire take down a werewolf pack, so you were especially tired. The boys all decided to give you a break.

It was about 9:00 at night when you made your way to the kitchen. You were dying for some ice cream, and you knew you had a half full pint of Ben and Jerry’s waiting for you in the freezer. When you were just a few steps away from the kitchen door, you heard a noise coming from that direction. Instinctively, you grabbed your gun from the waistband of your leggings and held it at the ready in front of you. Sometimes, you hated how paranoid you constantly had to be in your own home. Other times -like now- you were glad you carried a gun all the time. You stood outside the door, took a deep breath, then turned and pointed your gun at whoever was inside.

“Whoa, easy there, Bonnie.”

You let out an annoyed sigh and dropped your gun, shoving it in the back of your pants again. “What the hell are you doing here?” you asked Dean.

He shrugged. “Drinking a beer.”

“Funny,” you said sarcastically. He was sitting at the table, but you were completely unaware of this gaze burning holes into your back as you searched through the freezer for your ice cream. “How long have you been home?” you asked him, turning to get a spoon out of one of the drawers.

“I got back about an hour ago,” he said.

“And Sam?” you asked.

“Met up with Cas and Jack,” he said. “They needed a hand.”

“And you didn’t-”

“Well aren’t you just full of questions tonight,” he quipped, giving you his most sarcastic smile.

“Fuck off,” you bit back, shoving your spoon into your ice cream. “I was just wondering why-”

“Jesus, do you ever stop talking?” he asked. “I swear, if I listen to your voice for more than five minutes at a time, I get a headache. I heard you on the fucking phone earlier and your voice just pierced my-”

You cut Dean off by slamming your spoon against the counter. He looked at you with surprise and kept watching your movements as you put the lid back on your ice cream and put it back in the freezer.

“Oh, have I hurt your feelings?” he asked. “Have I finally struck the wrong-”

“I’m done,” you said, holding your hands up. You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, and a lump was growing in your throat. “I’m done, Dean. Okay? You win.”

“What are you-”

“I’m exhausted,” you said, laughing just so you wouldn’t cry. “I’m tired of this, this game of who can hurt who the most. So congratulations. You win. I surrender.”

Before Dean could say anything back, you left the room, and you didn’t stop there. You only paused in your room to grab a jacket before heading all the way out of the bunker. You needed fresh air. To clear your head. To think about how you felt about Dean and all the conversations you had had with Jack and everything you had been pushing down for so long.

Dean stared at the door where you had left, his beer bottle inches away from his mouth. What the hell was that?

Guilt crept into his stomach. This wasn’t how your relationship with each other worked. He gave you shit, you gave it right back. Had he pushed the wrong button? This wasn’t anything he hadn’t teased you for before. And that’s all it was. Teasing. He didn’t actually mean it. Didn’t you know that? Wasn’t that what your relationship was based off of? Mutual hatred? Or at least, fake hatred? Because he certainly didn’t hate you, and he thought that was pretty clear. Granted, he was pretty sure you hated him, but it was more like a loving hatred. Didn’t it lean more towards love most of the time?

He figured you just needed time to cool off. Maybe something had happened during the day before he got there that set you off. Regardless, he knew asking you about it would just make it worse. You guys didn’t exactly talk about your feelings. That’s what you used Jack for. He knew you would never need him as long as you had Jack to talk with.

His fist clenched around his beer bottle as he took another sip.

You were gone for an hour. You were completely lost in your thoughts, and you ended up so deep into the woods that your surroundings were unrecognizable. You froze, looking at the trees and darkness around you.

Panic settled quickly in your chest, and your body started to shake. It started with your hands, then your arms, then your legs, until your whole body gave out. You collapsed to the ground and covered your mouth with your hand, trying not to sob too loudly. There were monsters in the night, and the last thing you wanted was for one of them to find you when you were so ill prepared for a fight. You crawled across the ground to the nearest tree and leaned your back up against it.

How stupid had you been? First and foremost, you were afraid of the dark. Sure, that wasn’t great for a hunter, but you could handle it when you were with someone. But here, you were alone. Alone and lost and scared. God, you hated being scared.

The second big issue was you were already stressed. You were stressed because you had all these feelings for Dean that you were only just starting to come to terms with -thanks to your endless talks with Jack- but what just happened proved your biggest fear. Proved that he couldn’t stand you. God, even the sound of your voice annoyed him? You were right: it was a lot easier to push people away than it was to take a chance and get close to them.

And when you were stressed, you were anxious. When you were anxious, you panicked.

“No, no, no,” you cried to yourself. “Not now. Not right now. Not now, not now, not now.”

Your throat started to tighten up, and your eyes squeezed shut. Usually, you’d get Sam or Cas. Jack was sweet, but when you were panicking, you needed someone to hold you and talk you down. Jack only seemed to take on your stress.

The problem was, Sam and Cas weren’t there. They were nowhere near there. Wherever there was. Because you were lost. Alone. In the woods. In the dark. Scared.

Luckily, you could still breathe, and if you could breathe, you might be able to talk. If you could talk-

You grabbed your phone from your bra and unlocked it, just barely able to make out your contacts through your teary eyes. You pressed Dean’s contact number and put your forehead on your knees. “Pick up, pick up,” you whispered, fighting back the sobs itching up your throat.

“Hey.”

As soon as you heard Dean’s voice, a broken sob passed your lips.

Dean put down his beer bottle and stood up from his seat. “Hey, hey, take a breath,” he said. “Where are you?”

“I’m lost,” you admitted. “I don’t know where I am. I’m in the middle of the woods, and, and it’s dark, and I’m scared and, and I can’t, I can’t-” Your breaths were short and labored, and you could feel yourself starting to black out. You put your head between your knees as more tears fell from your eyes. You started sobbing, and you wished with everything in you that you hadn’t gotten yourself into this situation in the first place.

“(Y/N)-” Dean’s voice was level, but not harsh. He knew how you got during your panics, and he also knew he was the last person you’d want to call. He was your last result, but dammit if that was going to stop him from helping. “I’m gonna track your phone, okay? You stay right where you are. I’ll be there before you know it. I just need you to keep breathing. Nice and slow.”

As Dean rushed around the bunker to grab his keys and jacket, he put the phone on speaker so he could still talk to you while he tracked your phone. “Dean,” you breathed desperately.

“I’m right here,” he said. “I see where you are. I’ll be with you in fifteen minutes. Ten if I run. I can run. You want me to run?” You made a noise that sounded kind of like a laugh, and Dean managed a weak smile. “Hey, let’s play a game. You want to play a game?” You didn’t say anything, but Dean continued anyway. “I need you to tell me five things you can see right now.”

It was an exercise Sam had taught him back when he was dealing with the Mark of Cain stuff. Sometimes he’d wake up from nightmares completely disoriented, and Sam would walk him through this dumbass routine. And as stupid as Dean thought it was, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t always calm him down.

“It’s, it’s dark,” you whispered through your shaky breaths.

“You can do it,” Dean said. “Just five things, sweetheart.”

“I, uh, there’s a tree,” you said. “Lots of trees. And there’s a stick next to me, and a yellow leaf. Uh, I, there’s an ant on my shoe. And my shoe. Is that-” You took as deep of a breath as you could, but it was still too shallow for your liking. “Is that five?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said. “You did so good. How about four things you can touch.”

“The, the dirt,” you said, “and the tree I’m sitting by. There’s some crunchy leaves next to me. And-” You tried to think of something else, but your mind was coming up blank. “I don’t know, Dean. I don’t-”

Dean could tell your breaths were picking up again, and he pressed his feet harder against the ground as he ran in the direction his phone was telling him. “What about your phone?” he offered. “You can touch your phone, right?”

“Yeah,” you said, squeezing your phone harder in your fist. “Yeah. My phone.”

“Good job,” Dean said. “I’m almost there, (Y/N). Give me three things you can hear.”

You closed your eyes and listened to everything around you. “The wind,” you whispered. “The wind in the trees.”

“Mhm,” Dean hummed.

“And, and-” You hesitated. “I hear crickets.”

“Mm,” he hummed again. “What else?”

You felt yourself smile. “Your voice. I can hear your voice.”

Dean chuckled. “That’s right.”

You looked up from your phone when you heard a twig snap, and just as you reached for your gun, you saw it was Dean. You hung up your phone, and Dean rushed over to you. He knelt beside you, and you immediately threw your arms around him. “Shh, shh,” he whispered, running his hands through your hair and holding you to his chest. He could still feel you shaking. “Hey, we gotta finish our game, okay?” You nodded against his chest. “Two things you can smell. Think really hard, okay? Just focus on that. Two things you can smell.” You did, closing your eyes again and breathing in through your nose.

“The dirt,” you whispered. You took another deep breath, and your grip on his flannel tightened. “You. Your cologne. ‘S my favorite.”

What Dean wanted to say was, You have a favorite? Instead, he squeezed you a little tighter and said, “One thing you can taste.”

You managed a laugh. “My tears are salty.” Dean chuckled as well and kept running his hands from the crown of your head down to the ends of your hair.

“Good job,” he whispered. “You did so good, (Y/N). Just keep breathing now. I’m right here.”

Once Dean could tell your breathing was back to normal, he suggested you head back to the bunker. You were still a little shaky, but you nodded and stood close to him as you walked through the woods. Normally, as long as you weren’t alone, the dark didn’t bother you, but you were still too on edge from the panic to feel totally comfortable. Dean noticed you gasp and freeze when a twig snapped in the distance, so he stopped and turned to face you. He reached out his hand for you to take. “Why’re you being so nice to me?” you asked. Still, you took his hand, and the two of you kept walking.

Dean shrugged. “Because you’re upset, and you need me.”

You sighed with a shake of your head. “You don’t even like me, Dean.”

You were at the bunker door now, and Dean dropped your hand. You walked into the building, and for a moment, you thought your comment had been forgotten. When you got to the war room, Dean dropped his keys on the table and looked at you. “Is that really what you think?” he said.

“What?” you asked, sniffing a bit.

“You think I don’t like you?” he asked.

You scoffed. “Dean, all you do is, is argue with me and ridicule me and-”

“What, and you don’t do the same?” he said, his voice raising a bit. He didn’t want to set you off, but he was stunned at your words, and he wanted to defend himself. “From the moment we met, you have done nothing but, but snap at me and pick fights. You never even gave me a chance to be anything other than this, this villain you already created in your mind.”

“It’s not like that,” you said weakly with a shake of your head. “I don’t, I don’t see you as a villain.”

“Then what?” he said. “Because I only dish out what you give me! I’ve never hated you, but you made it damn near impossible from day one to kill you with kindness. And-”

“Dammit, Dean, I love you!”

Dean’s jaw dropped a bit at your words. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “What?”

Well, there was no going back now.

“I love you,” you repeated. “But I’m, I am not good at loving people. I’m so-” You sighed heavily and ran your hands through your hair. “I’m so afraid of losing people and of people not, not wanting me, and it’s so much easier to, to make you hate me than wait for you to love me when you won’t.”

Dean was quiet, but you didn’t really give him a chance to get a word in anyway.

“But Dean, I cannot keep doing this,” you said. “I can’t keep giving you shit and fighting with you when I don’t mean it, and I can’t keep listening to you say all these things about me, even though I know it’s my fault you’re even-”

Dean closed the space between the two of you with one step, put his hands on your cheeks, and kissed you.

The kiss was short but strong, and when he pulled away, you took in a sharp breath. Both of your chests were heaving, and all you could think to say was, “You kissed me.”

“Well you kept talking,” he said with a small smile. “I couldn’t get a word in.” You bit your lip and hung your head, but Dean lifted your chin. “I’ve been in love with you for-” He scoffed and shook his head. “I don’t even know how long, (Y/N). I was just so sure you couldn’t stand me, so I kept up our, I don’t know. Our act. And everyday it hurt more and more, but I kept thinking the same thing you did. I figured nothing good would come of me telling you how I felt.” He put his hand on your cheek and brushed a tear away. “I guess neither of us are very good at loving people.”

You scoffed. “I guess not.”

“But dammit, (Y/N),” he said with another shake of his head, “I’ll try for you. I’ll get better at loving people if that person I get to love is you.”

You nodded. “So will I.”

Dean smiled. “But I hope I still get to make fun of you sometimes.”

“Yeah?” you quipped.

“Mhm,” he hummed. “Like right now? All I can think about is how you’re a hunter who’s afraid of the dark.” You bit back a smile and punched his arm, but Dean just laughed and pulled you in for a hug as he kissed the top of your head.

-

A few hours later, Sam, Cas, and Jack came home to a quiet bunker. It was only a little bit before 1AM, and it was a little odd for Dean to be asleep at that hour. You, maybe, but Dean? That guy could drink and watch porn until at least four. “Guys?” Sam called. “(Y/N)? Dean?” Sam looked at Cas who just shrugged. Meanwhile, Jack walked down the hall in the direction of your room.

“(Y/N)?” he said, loudly enough for you to hear on the other side if you were awake, but quiet enough that it wouldn’t wake you up if you were asleep. When you didn’t answer, Jack slowly opened the door, hoping it wouldn’t creek with the movement. What he saw on the other side made him furrow his eyebrows. Cas and Sam rounded the corner and saw Jack standing there with a look of confusion on his face. They looked at each other again before joining him in front of your door.

Sam and Cas both smiled upon seeing you and Dean cuddled up in each other's arms, fast asleep. You were both fully dressed, even lying above the covers, and your TV was playing softly in the background. “I don’t understand,” Jack said softly, doing his best not to wake you or Dean. “(Y/N) said Dean hates her.”

“Yeah,” Sam scoffed, “he definitely doesn’t.”

“So, has he been courting her this whole time?” Jack asked, using some lingo he picked up on once before.

Cas chuckled. “I suppose he did Dean’s version of courting.”

“But they skipped the dating,” Jack said slowly, “which is what you do before sex.”

“Well, it looks like they skipped that part too, bud,” Sam said with a laugh, clapping Jack on the shoulder. Sam closed your bedroom door, smiling once more at his brother and best friend finally looking peaceful together.

“Dean says there’s no part after the sex part,” Jack said. Cas rolled his eyes and Sam laughed again.

“Of course he said that,” Sam said.

“Is that not true?” Jack asked.

“Jack,” Cas said, putting his arm around Jack’s shoulders and leading him away from your bedroom, “it took me a long time to learn this, so I’ll save you some trouble. Sometimes you just need to ignore what Dean says, because most of the time, he doesn’t even realize he’s wrong until he’s proved otherwise.”

“Yeah,” Sam chuckled. “And I think he’s finally been proved otherwise.”

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

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[garetthawke]

okay so. just to let tumblr know what is going on with twitter wrt the she-ra ending and what's blowing up on lesbian twitter, someone made a post celebrating canon sapphic couples, with she-ra, korra, adventure time, and steven universe.

then this fucking asshole made this comment on it:

...which was followed up by this comment of the asshole below him.

[a twitter retweet with the comment "girl on girl is the safest and laziest LGBT representation" by twitter user TroyVaderInk, with a comment below from twitter user UnHolySpork that says "its almost like they are completely fetishizing lesbian relationships and also completely ignoring that lesbian relationships are most often extremely abusive. EXTREMELY."]

and the overt lesbophobia is enough to be mad about, obviously. but this is getting under my skin for more than that, too.

so, contextually, the discussion these people thought they were having was pointing out how seriously hard it is to get m/m couples on a show like this. however, the conversation had instead was this extremely offensive mess.

the original comment does a few things here, 1 being the complete erasure and dismissal of the struggle LGBT people have had actually getting these f/f couples on screen.

2, acting like these four children's cartoons are somehow elevating wlw representation to straight representation by pitting mlm rep against them vs against het couples, rather than acknowledging both facts: that four shows of minor, one-to-none kiss rep is pathetically low, AND that mlm rep is pretty much nonexistent in media like this.

and 3, he used the phrase "girl on girl" like a goddamned porn category, implying his opinion on the apparent "easiness" and "laziness" of sapphic couples is in fact informed by and probably counting fetishistic lesbian porn made for straight men.

(this man also spent a good deal of time on twitter antagonizing lesbians who called him out, many of them teenagers, some by saying some sexist shit and defending it with utterly stereotypical sexist responses, and he had added to his callout, a post of him referring to a sapphic character with the d slur, so feel free to go report him.)

the second comment here chimes in with an almost hilariously hypocritical assertation that a) these sweet, canon wlw couples on CHILDREN'S shows are (somehow) fetishistic (for existing at all i guess??) and that b) most lesbian relationships are (somehow) abusive; which is besides the point of this post, but still one of the most hurtful and damaging things said in this thread. there is an additional comment of hers (not shown) below this one that clarifies that is what she meant.

in any case, this drove me up a fucking WALL.

because while the initial point here - that media creators are still too scared to show boys as much as even holding hands in shows like this - has a lot of validity to it, it was posed at the utter expense of lesbians, and requires of heavy dose of hypocrisy to follow through in that way.

because while media is still scarce on similar mlm rep, fandom is literally DOMINATED by it. to the point that many lesbians, including myself, have said we can't find a safe space within it ANYWHERE. I've had to drop out of active participation in SO MANY fandoms i previously loved, because the entire fandom was reduced down to thirsting after and fetishizing men in the fandom, particularly in m/m format.

there is overt hostility towards lesbians in fandom spaces when we express our discomfort over this, and to boot f/f often gets ignored or mistreated by the same people, so it only adds to our discomfort and alienation.

these 4 shows have hardly put a dent in that. they are very meagre representation at best, save maybe steven universe on a technicality, because the rest are all end-of-show or even post-show confirmations, and all of these shows have about 1-2 kisses each, if even that. pathetic stats when compared to m/f couples. it has not made fandom that much of an easier place to be as a lesbian, but i am nontheless INCREDIBLY thankful they exist nonetheless.

the hypocrisy is hard, because as a lesbian the most we are often offered is blatant fetishization, so wlw media that literally DOESN'T do that, coming from lgbt people, is incredibly important. anything that is normalizing is desperately needed.

and yet this person calls what little bit of non fetishistic media we have fetishistic, underneath a fetishizing comment about them, decrying it existing because of claimed fetishization - all in the name of speaking up about mlm rep, which is, within fandom, actually JUST as fetishized, if not more.

and it breaks my fucking heart as much as it enrages me, because this COULD have been a valuable discussion. we could have talked about the fact that mlm have yet to get similar representation to this, likely mostly due to toxic masculinity. but instead these posts used that as merely an excuse, the afterthought to tearing down lesbians and this wlw rep.

and all this to say: it literally doesn't matter how valid your original point is; if you build it on a foundation of hatred and bigotry, it loses all credibility, and destroys the desire for anyone to put in discussion about it. talking about mlm rep under a heavy blanket of lesbophobia will get you nowhere except on a lot of shit lists, unless you WANT to align with general homophobes; but i promise you they will care even less about the plight of mlm rep, save for, oh how ironic, cases of fetishization.

if you look at four, yes the whole FOUR shows sapphics got of representation like this, and your follow through logic is that sapphic rep is thus "easy" and "lazy," you are clearly lesbophobic already and have no ground to start with.

the clashing, hypocritical combination of ideas here that bizarrely imply that both a) fetishized lesbians count as rep, and b) that lesbian rep shouldn't be there because it's fetishized, do not create a cohesive starting point for a discussion of lack of mlm rep, and conveniently ignores the endless bounds of fetishization that is involved with m/m couples in fandom; which means none of it is actually about fetishization at all. it's about these couples being sapphic.

the fact that these two people are bi, people from within our own community, makes this hurt all the worse. lesbophobia is so goddamned pervasive among us that even when we should be fucking celebrating this factually rare achievement of rep, instead people are tearing down lesbians, both characters and real people.

it's disgusting, disheartening, and it's something we need to pay attention to so we can call it out and make it abundantly clear that it will not be tolerated or normalized.

the height of offensive irony is calling us "safe" when this is what we get just over an episode of a cartoon showing two girls kiss.

[lxvesickreality]

a consequence worth taking 3/?

Request: none, but a few commented asking for a part 3

Pairing: Cisco Ramon x reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, a lot of pov changes

Word count: 2438

Add on: i have no idea how many parts this will have to be honest. sorry for this part being so shitty, the next part will be much better and much longer. i just felt the need to update something that involved this imagine. also, y/m/n means your mothers name and y/m/l/n means your mothers last name.

gif is NOT mine, credit to owners

"Barry, you need to go back. You need to make sure she's okay. We have no idea if she's stable and what she's capable of. You need to be careful though, if both of your dark matter counteracted, it could be harmful to you and possibly her." Barry nodded in agreement then raced off into the night back to the lab where they left their friend. With a feeling of mixed emotions, Caitlin spun on her heel to face her friend. "Seriously, Cisco?" 

His brown eyes glanced up at her and she felt a twinge of guilt in her stomach when she saw his own guilt shimmering through his eyes. "What?" he snapped. 

"That's why you've been so mean to her? For a mistake you both made? Do you have any idea how you've been making her feel, Cisco? I get that you feel bad about hurting Gypsy and doing something like that so quickly but it wasn't just her. It was you too. You have no idea if we just lost our friend, our teammate." 

"I understand, Caitlin." 

"I don't think you do, Cisco. We have no idea what went wrong and what happened to her. She's obviously unstable right now." taking a seat on a bench where it's a bus stop, she had an idea form in her mind. "We need to find Y/N's mother. She knows more than any of us." 

Team’s perspective

3 days later

“Did you guys find anything?” Barry flashed into the Cortex in his suit, taking off his mask to reveal his face to his friends. The disappointing expression on everyone’s face was enough to give him his answer. “Really? Nothing at all?”

“There haven't been any traces of dark matter anywhere and nothing in the facial recognition. She knows where everything is, Barry, along with knowing what we are doing.” Caitlin declared, sympathy seeping from her words and she was beginning to sound hopeless. “It’s going to be hard to find her when she knows everything.”

“Nobody ever explained to me what happened,” Joe piped up from the wall he was leaning on with Cecile next to him with a frown plastered on her face. 

Barry sighed glancing at the floor, “Cisco and her had-”

“Barry tried to share his powers with her and it triggered the dark matter that was coursing through her,” Caitlin gave Cisco a knowing look and he continued, “We had sex last month and I was-actually I’ve been a complete douchebag to her because I was still hurting a little bit over the break up and I felt guilty for sleeping with Y/N so I took everything out on her.”

Not everyone knew the truth about why he was so angry with Y/N so when it was spoken of, shock rippled through all of them at once but a tiny bit of anger was thrown in the mix with Cecile and Iris. Cisco kept his eyes glued to the floor finding it more fascinating than the judgmental stares coming from the team he looks up to as family. He was tearing himself up inside about how the whole situation came about and how he treated his best friend with so much hatred when it was a two person thing. Not only did he lose Cynthia, but it looks like he lost his best friend and he was the only one to blame for that area. 

“As much as I’d love to give you a really big lecture, Cisco, we need to find Y/N before it’s too late. DeVoe still wants her and with her out there alone, it’ll be easier to take her.” Iris claimed, taking a step forward to wrap an arm around Barry, a glare set in stone for Cisco who gladly accepted the feelings towards him. He deserved it. "Have you found her mom, Caitlin?"

"No, I haven't. I even looked through Y/N's phone and she doesn't have a number for her or her dad. She had no text message or phone call in this phone's history that pointed to her parents direction. Her father isn't in the system either. I found her birth certificate and that name for her dad is nowhere. So either he doesn't exist or-" 

"Her real father doesn't know he has a daughter and her mom put something else down." Barry finished her sentence. "Let's continue trying to find her mom. Did it say in her profile where she last was?" 

"In Denver, Colorado at a rehab facility. But that was 2 years ago. She hasn't checked in anywhere that we know of. She could've changed her identity. There's an endless amount of possibilities of what happened to her. All we know is that's the last place anyone ever saw her."

"Okay, then, we go there. It's a little over an hour drive." 

"I'm in," Iris states and Joe, Cisco, and Barry nod to show where they stood too. 

Caitlin gave a small, gentle smile but in her gut, she felt something turn and it didn't feel good. This visit can give them all the answers but will the answers be worth it if they're bad? 

~ 

"This is it. This is the last place anyone saw Y/N's mother." said Caitlin.

"Think she's still here? Just hiding under a different name? She did say something was coming so it would make sense for her to get another identity." Barry questioned, taking a step forward to examine the place some more. 

Cisco shrugged, "Who knows. I mean it wouldn't make sense for her to stay here for this long. She could've been talking about the particle accelerator too when she told Y/N about something bad coming." 

The team started walking into the place one by one with Barry the last one. His eyes danced around him catching a small glimpse of y/c/h but shook it off thinking his mind was playing tricks on him and continued his way inside. Y/N couldn't be here of all places, she told them she didn't want to see her mother again but on the other hand, she wasn't stable and she doesn't have any other family members. Barry knew Y/N couldn’t possibly be here especially if she really knew the team, they’d eventually come to see her mother. 

The secretary peeked up from behind the big glasses that sat on the bridge of her nose and grinned, “How can I help you?” 

���Uh, hi, we’re here to see Y/M/N Y/M/L/N.” Caitlin revealed with a small smile of her own. Immediately the secretary’s entire body language changed and the sweet smile she once had dropped from her face. She knew something.

“I-uh I’m sorry but she isn’t here anymore. She was released last week.” 

The team was baffled, only last week? It was most likely why they couldn’t find anything on her, she was still here at the facility and has had barely any time to get on her feet. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am very sure. That lady could not be forgotten. Kept going on and on about how people have powers and what not, that her whole family has powers at that. She’s an adult who lives in fantasy land, we only released her because she requested to be let go. The doctor she was assigned to signed the discharge papers within those hours. Everyone was ready to let her go.” 

It wasn’t shocking to say the least that a woman who struggled with drug abuse and was put on more drugs would not have sensored herself. They knew what kind of medications she was on, some very strong and were antipsychotics continuously being upped through the dosages. This woman needed the help to get off these drugs and was constantly being put in rehab by her own flesh and blood only to get put on prescriptions that could’ve easily altered her mind. 

Caitlin nodded to show she was listening and Iris was the next one to speak letting the secretary’s eyes fall on her, “Do you know where we can find her?” 

“I’m not legally allowed to give out that information.”

“We know that you don’t allow patients out of the facility without having a place to go. We really need this information. We’re trying to find her daughter and we think that she might’ve gone to see her.” Cisco announced from behind Iris. 

“Look, I’m not allowed to give out information but,” the woman grasped onto her glasses taking them off of her face to appear more intimidating. “if you are telling the truth about her daughter, I may be able to help.” 

“We are telling the truth.” Barry spoke. 

Nodding, the secretary put her glasses back on to the bridge of her nose and turned to type away on the computer in front of her. The team heard the printer go off and looking around to make sure no one was watching, she got up from her desk chair to retrieve the paper. It was a copy of the discharge papers, front and back. “You didn’t get that from me. Are we clear?” 

Everyone nodded and spun on their heel to head out but Barry stopped causing everyone else to as well. “Barry?” 

“Thi-this isn’t right,” he stuttered. 

Iris furrowed her eyebrows, taking a closer step to her man. “What do you mean, Bar?” 

“This says Y/N’s address.” 

“Damn it,” Cisco cursed under his breath at the news. “That means Y/N probably has her and we can’t get anything from her if the person we’re trying to ask about has her.” 

“I’ll speed around the city, try to see if I can find her in any public places.” the team stepped outside trying to find a good place to hide Barry’s secret and to let him do what he needs to do in order to find the mother of their friend. 

“Check alleyways. She may have just gotten out of rehab but she could be shooting up already meaning she’s also off her meds.” Cisco said.

Caitlin nodded, “If she’s off her meds, she could be out of this world to put it nicely.” 

With that knowledge, Barry sped off leaving the team to stay put where they were. Despite not knowing the city very well he sure could find everything pretty easily. The public places didn’t hold the woman he was looking for so he sped off to look in alley’s. One alley, two alley’s, three, four, five alleys and he caught a glimpse of a person in a black zip up hoodie and a woman not any taller than 5′5 at least. This woman fit the description of their friend’s mother and the saddest part of it was Cisco was right, she was using again. 

“Y/M/N?” he called out. The man in the black zip up hoodie barely even glanced up before taking off down the alleyway leaving the woman to fend for herself. It was her. Y/N looked almost identical to her mother taking every feature she could inherit from her but the difference was the holes that stopped healing on her arms from the heroine and the bags under her eyes. She looked older than she really was and much more scrawny than the picture they found a few days previously or more the mugshot. Grey hair was starting to come from her roots and wrinkles were forming around her facial features. 

“H-how do you know who I am?” she was understandably terrified of the sight before her, she didn’t know who he was. “Who are you?” 

“My name is Barry Allen. I need your help.” 

“Why would I help you? I don’t even know you.” she fires back. So Y/N also got the sass from her mother, that was good to know. 

“It’s about your daughter, Y/N.” 

Her body language changed almost as quickly as the secretary’s did when the team and himself talked to her but this change was more positive, it looked almost relaxing to see her transform like that. Her shoulders dropped from the defensive state they were in and her eyes had hope shimmering in them.

“Y/N? My baby?” she covered her mouth attempting to hold back the tears. 

He nodded, “Yes, ma’am. Could you help my friends and I please?” 

“I want to know what I’m helping with first.” 

“We don’t know what happened but your daughter unleashed her powers and she’s missing. She almost blew up an entire building, ma’am.” 

She gasped loudly, “She got her powers? Oh, no, no, no,” 

“Are you alright?” 

“What was she doing? What were her powers like?” 

Barry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at the question but answered it nonetheless, “It was like lightning,” 

“Oh no, what have you guys done?” 

“Ma’am, I don’t think I understand what you mean.” said Barry.

“Those powers weren’t supposed to come out. They weren’t allowed to, I had them sealed shut. Take me to your team now. I know exactly who you are, Flash.” 

He didn’t have much time to say anything before she was throwing herself at him telling him to speed to his team. There were many questions, some now involving how she knew him but ran to where his team awaited for his arrival only to find something he didn’t want to see. 

His whole team was on the ground, blood dripping from each of their noses and knocked out cold. Something happened. 

“Y/N,” was all he could get before he felt a bolt of electricity slither through him causing him to yell out in pain and fall to the floor not able to bare his own weight any longer. The darkness was calling for him and he desperately tried to stay awake to see who the culprit was, to see if he was right and to make sure his friends mother was alright. His eyes were trying to flutter close, to succumb to the darkness as the pain was so intense it hadn’t felt like anything he’s ever felt before even though he’s been through his fair share of fights. This was a trap, Y/N knew they were here and wanted her mother. How could they not have known? 

“Go to sleep, Flash,” Y/N came into his view, squatting down in front of him. “Otherwise, I’m going to have to take you out completely and I’d rather not do that in front of my mother.” 

Despite everything in him begging him to stay alive, he couldn’t fight anymore and fell into the darkness.

Tags: @night-girls-world @diva-1992 

[nostalthicc]

best friends saga | jeff wittek

HIGH SCHOOL AU

jeff wittek x bestfriend!reader

summary: just a ton of shorts of jeff and his unlikely best friend in a high school au :)

warnings: mentions of abuse, light blood/injury, slight angst, fluff

1.9k words

note: jumps around a lot- none of these happen in order opps lol

“aright so i was thinking-” jeff started but y/n but her hands up motioning for the boy to stop his talking. she was not going to be bossed around by someone who intimidates kids to do his homework.

“i’ll stop you right there.” she grabbed a stack of papers handing half of them to jeff. “i was thinking i will finish this half and you can finish the other and then we will combine what we have.” y/n's words fell off her lips in a bored, blunt tone. she was stoked to be working with jeff on this project but y/n was just tired. she had been up with her mother all night trying to convince her that no one was in the house.

jeff pursed his lips lightly, a slight smirk making it’s way on his lips. “but what if i want to spend time with you.” he pushed, his voice growing a bit deeper.

“stop- I’m not doing this whole presentation, now I have to get going. don't screw this up I need the grade in this class.” y/n gathered her things. it was true, she did need her grade to go up in this class.

“so why is it your jeff side is completely sealed off.” erin and carly, two of y/n’s close friend had been questioning her about jeff ever since they suddenly became close friends. It was a shocker for the whole school, jeff didn’t have girl friends- he didn’t really have friends at all. 

y/n huffed, she was tired of talking about him. that's all anyone ever wanted to talk about with her. now that she had befriended the mysteriously handsome boy, girls from all cliques wanted to become friends. although y/n knew they were all fake, she still felt a little warm in all the attention. “why does it matter, it’s not like i’m dating him. i haven’t changed and neither has he.” 

“sorry, i find it a bit strange that you and the hottest guy in school became friends, in a matter of months.” erin had always had a thing for jeff, y/n always thought it was a pointless school girl crush- and still does, it all seemed to cliche for her. 

“speak of the devil.” carly mumbled stuffing a scoop of mashed potatoes in her mouth.

“hey...ellie and...carly?” y/n couldn’t help but laugh at his attempt to remember her friend's name. most would take it as a joke but jeff really could care less.

“erin.” She corrects him through a mouth full of french fries. He simply nods, turning back to y/n.

jeff gave y/n a lopsided grin. “my mom wants to have you over for dinner. No code red so it will be enjoyable.” she knew he hated having dinner with his mom and her, he wanted something. she motioned for him to continue. “And after I was thinking we could go to murphy’s.” murphy’s was a club. 

“i don’t even have a-” jeff holds up a fake ID with her driver's license photo printed on it. now y/n really had no excuse to say no, other than the fact clubbing was not her scene. “fine, but on one condition. erin and carly get to come.” she smiled in triumph, collecting all the trash onto her tray, handing it to jeff for him to throw away. 

he flashed his award-winning smirk towards the girls. “the more the merrier.” 

-

y/n shoved her car keys back into her bag, this was the third time jeff had blown her off to finish this project. she was tired of it, she wasn’t going to take no as an answer this time. 

“i thought i told you today wasn’t a good time.” jeff kept the door cracked around his face, he kept peering back every once in a while.

y/n positioned her foot in the door, so jeff couldn’t close the door in her face as he did the past few times. “no, i don't care.”

“No?” 

“i need to get this project done and quite frankly i don’t care what you are hiding in your house.” she looked up at him with the sternest face she could muster up, even though she looks like a mad teddy bear, jeff he complied. he knew as soon as she saw what was on the inside y/n would immediately want to leave.

he pushed the door open letting her walk-in, his house looked neat and put together, nothing like y/n suspected. jeff’s mom was sitting on the couch, an icepack on her wrist and his father was nowhere to be seen. “momma this is y/n, we are going to be working on a project in my room.” jeff spoke so kindly with his mother like anything little thing would set her off, she kindly smiled at the girl and nodded looking back down at her bruised hand sadly.

No matter how hard y/n tried not to flinch when the yelling started downstairs she couldn’t help it. jeff’s father's outburst scared her more than she knew, she finally understood why he wanted to keep her out and she couldn’t blame him. if anyone witnessed y/n’s mother’s outburst she would be ashamed as well. 

“i’m sorry.” Her apology came out quiet and soft, she felt bad for barging in like this. she should have known better. She peered through her eyelashes waiting for jeff to lash out on her, or cry, or force her out the door but instead a smile crept onto his face. In fact, he started laughing, it caused the hell out of y/n. “w-what?” 

jeff put his hand over his mouth trying to contain his fits of laughter. “i’’ sorry, i’m sorry but i never thought i would have a girl in my room while my dad is blowing up on my mom for no reason- c-can I be honest here?” he didn’t wait for her to answer. “for so long-” jeff’s voice became soft once again, he looked down to his hands. “i had to listen to my father tear my mother to pieces and now that someone’s here it doesn’t hurt as bad. is that wrong of me?” his watery eyes met y/n’s, who wore a clear expression of understanding across her face.

her heart broke for him, she brought herself in front of him, putting his hands into hers. “no, no, no. it’s not wrong, not at all. jeff- pain, it’s easier when you have someone there. it’s human nature.” 

“you seem like your speaking from experience.” a sad smile formed on his lips, although he was just talking it still caused y/n to tense slightly. she knew it wasn’t fair to want to conceal her past after jeff just confessed his but it still made her feel uneasy.

-

“y/n/n, I think it has a nice ring to it.” jeff continued to try and come up with a nickname for y/n while his head laid in her lap. They were watching the outsiders-  y/n’s pick- it was movie night. 

she just hummed in response, even though secretly she loved it, she had been calling jeff bubs, for the longest time now and he wanted a nickname of his own for her. “I like it.”

-

it was a normal night for y/n, she would do a small workout, cook dinner for herself and her mom, go to sleep. it was a basic schedule and only changes when she’s at jeff’s or he’s here. 

she was about to lie down but her phone buzzed, y/n groaned, she had already taken melatonin and was almost asleep. jeff’s number flashed across the screen. “hello?” 

“y/n/n?” jeff’s voice was quiet like he was hiding. “i’m outside. could you let me in?” as he talked y/n ran down the stairs to her front door, her eyes met with jeff’s before they traveled down to his bloody cheek.

her eyebrows knitted together, she asked no questions, she knows he will tell her. y/n gently dragged him into the house, leading him to the bathroom and to clean his face and wounds. y/n sat on the bathroom counter, jeff was standing between her legs, slightly flinching at the sting of alcohol on his cuts. 

jeff couldn’t help but smile while looking at the girl. whenever y/n was concentrating, she would stick her tongue out a bit, he learned that the first day he was assigned the project with her. 

“going to tell me what happened,” she questioned throwing the bloody tissues away. jeff held his hand up, it was as well bloody and bruised, y/n frowned. “buds, what happened?”

a sigh fell through jeff’s lips. “i threw a punch at him, he was going to hurt her again and I couldn’t keep watching. he got a nice swing on me, though.” his body was filled with so much pain and anger, this is one of the few times jeff has intervened in one of his parents fights- let alone the only time he's gotten physical with his father. “y/n/n,  you know usually i let it play out but i couldn't listen to her cries anymore. fuck, i'm sorry.”

y/n cut him off, she didn’t want him to finish his sentence. she knew it hurt him and that was the last thing she wanted to do at the moment. “stop- it’s okay. i get it, don’t be sorry. he doesn’t deserve your apologies.” she rested his head on her shoulder. 

“i just want to kill him sometimes and it scares me because i might have enough hatred to do so.” jeff looked her in the eyes to see if there was any form of fear in them, fear of him but he only saw pain and that's even worse. 

“jeff if you’re anything, it's not a killer. don’t think like that, I know it is a touchy subject but I’m going to let you talk to herself like you are going crazy. if anyone is a killer is him.” y/n could feel jeff tense. “you can stay here if you want to.”

“can I?” He questioned, his voice soft and quiet, y/n nodded, hopping off the counter. she watched him carefully as he pulled out the futon in the corner, spreading on the sheets she keeps in the closet just for him before taking a few pillows from her bed. jeff removed his shirt and laid down looking at the wall, y/n knew on so many levels how broken he was but he, himself never wanted to admit it, it made her sad, almost as if everything he felt she felt a small part of it too. 

-

“and jeff, i swear to god if you don’t call me everyday i will not hesitate to beat your ass.” y/n sassed, trying to lighten the mood. she didn't want to get upset as she was saying her goodbyes to jeff at his new dorm, he was finally going off to college. 

“yes ma’am.” he teased bringing her into his arms for a long-awaited hug. neither of the two really wanted to let go. y/n was first to pull away, she didn't want to cry because she knew they would still be best friends and they will always see each other but it hurt. 

jeff turned to his mom, gave her one last hug before taking his first steps into college life, away from his dad, mom, high school, y/n. “bye bubs!” she shouted waving her arm frantically, with the biggest smile on her face. “wish i could say i’m sad to see you go!”

[tracelessrp]

ROLAND BANCROFT-BISHOP is a 28 year old WITCH, who looks a lot like THOMAS DOHERTY. RO spends time at Traceless because HE IS TRYING TO FIND SOMEONE. HE is known for HIS EXPERIENCE WITH DARK MAGIC, HIS ENHANCEMENT SKILLS, AND CRAZY DREAMS.

Hometown: Salem, Massachusetts  Current Residence: Traceless Village  How long they have visited Traceless: New Arrival (2-3 days). Abilities: Roland is a jack of all trades but master of none when it comes to magic. He finds it easier when he uses emotion with his magic; when he is happy, or focused, the magic is easier to use. He also has incredible durability, with the ability to use magic for extended time periods, or withstand a lot of magical attacks. Ro is best with potions, and often does better with spells or runes, and can be a great enhancer of power for others. Honestly? He is still searching for his “great power”, which he is convinced he must have hidden somewhere. 

Character Background: 

Trigger warnings for violence, death, neglect of a child

Being born a Bancroft-Bishop had more history than Roland realized for most of his life. Salem, Massachusetts was famous for its folklore with witches and The Salem Witch Trials, and somehow his destiny became tightly interwoven with past, present, and future. During the original Trials back in the 1690s, the Bishop name was synonymous with witch hunter. It was something that never truly left the lineage of the family, even after a marriage in the 1740s between a Bishop and a Bancroft was arranged to establish peace. Bancroft was a particularly strong lineage of witches, one almost eradicated in the Trials. Fast forward a few hundred years, and you have him - Roland Bancroft-Bishop. There was a fast bond between Ro and his father, one that only deepened with the passing of his mother when he was 11. Along with her death came the anger, and with the anger, centuries old grudges resurfaced. Ro was filled with stories of Salem’s history, of the witches who ruined it, who cursed and poisoned the town, and the men who rose from the ashes to save it from their wicked power. 

Ro’s father blamed witches - and a 300 year old curse placed on the Bancroft name - for his wife’s death, and so Ro did, too. It wasn’t long before his father decided Roland should know the truth about their quaint, tourist-y town… witches still existed, and the fight was ever on. 

Aside from the supernatural element, Roland lived a pretty good normal life for most of his upbringing. His family was wealthy; they were old money, roots deeper in Salem than the trees. Their home at the end of Main Street was all brick, lined with windows, and could’ve leapt from a historical site itself; but you’d never have guessed how lush Ro’s pockets were by looking at him. He liked the outdoors, he liked the “survival trips” he’d take with his dad, he loved camping and boating, climbing - it didn’t matter what it was, Ro thrived on the adventure of it all. Witch hunting came easily to him because of that, those base animal instincts to hunt, catch, survive. His father did nothing but encourage and praise Roland, so by his teenhood, the boy had become quite cocky and energetic. 

Then it happened… magic flooded Salem, and a coven was unveiled from the shadows. It was chaos from the first moment Roland laid eyes on the first of the witches he would eventually be captured by, with ice-blond hair and a frosted gaze. Blood was spilled, friends were lost on both sides, and Roland found himself left in the wreckage with the one thing he held most dear gone forever - his identity. 

First the tea, drugged, and then, the dreams, and finally… the awakening. Ro had fallen asleep himself and awoke as something more. The same witch who had been entrusted to hold him captive had turned his own blood against him, pumping him full of what lay asleep underneath, and he woke with magic. A witch. The hunter becomes the hunted. 

Of course he couldn’t go home. Roland doubted his father’s hatred of witches would stop him from taking any of them out, himself included. He couldn’t join the coven, obviously, not to mention the war between the hunters and the witches had torn the survivors apart, and scattered them in opposite directions. There was nowhere else to go but to stay with her, his captor, his now self-proclaimed mentor. Ro was surprised how quickly it felt natural, how quickly the two fell into a routine, and somehow, began to build a life. He’d watch her in moments she thought she was alone, practicing her most incredible magic; the ability to wield the cold around her. It became different to him as he’d watch, see her grow, see how own abilities grow. No longer was magic something to despise and snuff out, but something to pursue. 

Though magic had always run through Ro’s blood since birth, it was heavily diluted and weakened, rendered dormant. It never would have come forth without some extra help from a powerful, determined witch and an ancient ritual. It was weaker than the magic he’d witnessed in Salem, and this frustrated Roland. He’d never wanted to be a magical being anyway, but once he was, he had to be stuck with fickle, mild powers that were basically useless? Perhaps this instinctive desire for power is what originally drove Ro to dark magic, at least in the beginning. Something to “jump-start” the process, something to coax out what he knew had to be lurking inside. The sinister spells and the power of dark magic tempted Roland, and when he found a medallion pendant that promised to lend the wearer strength, he was sold. It snowballed from there, and Roland was already in too deep by the time he realized he’d lost her. 

The longer he wore the pendant, the worse Roland’s mind got, the more his heart darkened. He received the power he wanted, but the cost continued to get greater, and this carried on for years. Roland found himself traveling, familiarizing himself with vampires and other witches, picking up the pieces of everyone’s magic and creating a capsule within himself. When the dreams started, Ro ignored them… but it was the same dream, night after night, and growing more realistic. 

What neither he or the ice witch had realized was that the ritual performed to turn Roland into a witch created a soul bond between the two. It was all but erased by the black magic Ro had taken to using, but something had changed. Something had strengthened the bond between him and the witch, and now it was calling to him. Hidden in Traceless, and a witch and her daughter carried on their life, and the older the little girl got, the more Ro couldn’t fight the dreams. 

Roland is a hunter, so he followed the clues, and he broke free of the darkness fading his mind. His connections with the supernatural helped him find Traceless, a suggestion from a friend of a friend who knew a guy who served a good cup of coffee (and hid a whole world right out the back door) leading Roland into the coffee shop’s doors, and discovering the village. Hopefully, discovering the witch, and fixing the disaster he’d left in his wake. 

(ooc: ghost, 25, they/them, est)