#guess i like angst????? and hurt??????

[strandedtoodeep]

alternative explanation to why Wade want to sacrifice himself in the Time Ripper scene:

Wade: That’s why it’s gotta be me. Logan: What, no- Wade: Yes. Yes it is. I need to do this by myself. Logan: Why? Wade: Because if i die now... i'll not have to watch them die later. Because in the end, i'll outlive them. All of them, Logan.

[the-broken-pen]

Hey hey

Could you perhaps write a snippet where the building hero is in, gets bombed? Its bombed as an assassination attempt to get them, however the people in that building die and hero, succumbed to their injuries couldn't save everyone of them. At last they watched the last ambulance left without them, even as they called for help

Villians villa is just few kilometres away

Thankfu hero's legs aren't broken

They begin walking

The problem? Vil is way to composed and prim and perfect to let all of hero's blood get on their expensive carpets and fabrics. They could even be mad at the hero for reddening their porch if they hero stood their asking for bandages. What now? And the fight the two had yesterday that ended with "never see me again" and "don't ever talk to me"s.....vil was stopping hero from attending the event the building....

Will vil help them? They can just ask for bandages and leave.

What hero doesn't know: vil would literally destroy the world for hero, and there's no way in hell are they leaving hero on their doorstep.

(Anon you were cooking with this ask, thank you!)

The hero realized the building was going to explode a split second before it did, which wasn’t enough time to do anything other than brace.

They tensed, and there was a horrible screeching of metal and brick, followed by a deafening silence that covered them more completely than the rubble did.

The hero coughed once, weakly, pain rocketing through their chest, and shoved a piece of concrete off themself.

From somewhere else in the building, a soft, terrified wail began, broken around desperate sobs.

The hero coughed again, hand rising to their ribs. They didn’t have the energy to be surprised when their fingers came back coated in blood and dust. They grimaced at it, struggling to their feet–

And oh, god. That hurt.

The hero had a surgery once, the kind that resulted in bandages and a care regime and a set of stitches, and when they had woken up in the recovery unit, it had felt sort of like this. A moment of loopy half-awareness, and then a pain that had knocked the breath out of them, hands clenching into the sheets as a nurse tried to figure out if they needed more medication. 

This was worse. Their vision swam, and they blinked it back with a hiss.

Because someone, somewhere in the wreckage, was crying. And if one person was crying, it meant there was someone who survived. Which meant it was likely there were other survivors–ones too hurt to make any noise, ones knocked unconscious, ones still too shocked to do anything other than lay there–and it was the hero’s job to find them.

It took them far too long to locate the source of the crying. Longer to dig them out, vision going white as the person slammed into the hero’s chest in some facsimile of a terrified hug.

“You’re okay,” they managed, voice like gravel. “It’s okay. I’m going to get you out, and you’re going to be just fine. Were you with anyone?”

And then again, and again, and again.

The hero panted, hands on their knees as their body fought them in an attempt to just collapse onto the concrete below. They just–they just needed a minute. Just one, maybe, and then they could–

This time, the hero wasn’t even aware of it before it happened.

The remains of the building shook, then disintegrated into itself in a plume of dust and rock. The hero shielded their eyes with one hand, blinking against the onslaught.

What little air they had managed to get stuttered out of their lungs in something close to a sob. They had done this enough times to know there wasn’t anyone in that building left alive. 

They sagged down against the nearest thing–more rubble, maybe? They didn’t know–and this time when they rested a hand on their side, there was a considerably larger amount of blood.

“That’s…not great,” they said, and their fingers blurred in front of them slightly. There was an ambulance right there. Just a couple feet away. They had already helped most of the survivors, so maybe it would be okay for the hero to–

A paramedic rounded the back of the ambulance, and the hero lifted a hand, reaching–

“Please, wait, I think–I think,” it hurt coming out of their mouth, “help. Please I need–” they trailed off as the paramedic took the step up into the ambulance.

And closed the door behind them.

The hero wasn’t even that surprised when the ambulance began to drive away.

“Help,” they finished weakly, then sucked a breath in through their nose.

They were supposed to be good at this kind of thing. Surviving, no, thriving in catastrophe. A pillar of light. The one with the plan. 

The kind of being that didn’t beg for help on the ground.

The hero wasn’t entirely sure how they managed to get themselves back to standing. It was as easy as that–one moment they were on the ground, gravel embedded in their knees, and the next they were up and shaking but they were up.

“If I stay here, I’ll die,” they murmured. They had hoped maybe the threat would keep their legs from buckling again. It didn’t.

They weren’t near any place that could be trusted. There wasn’t a safe clinic for heroes on this side of the city, and even if there was, the hero wouldn’t trust them. Couldn’t afford to.

But as for near…the hero swallowed the nausea as it rose in their throat. There was one place they could go. One person they could go to.

Four miles. They could do four. There was no other option.

Where the hero had had some blurry recollection, or at least, a good guess of how they got to standing, they had absolutely no clue how they made it onto the villain’s porch. They managed a blink, retching slightly as they stared at the villain’s wavering door, then had to freeze just to bite down the pain that had come from the gagging.

They tried to knock and ended up collapsing against the villain’s door, knees giving out entirely as their fingers scrabbled for purchase and left behind smeared bloody marks on the wood.

They weren’t entirely sure how that happened either, or how long it took the villain to answer the door. Just that it hurt—so, so much, it hurt so–and that they managed to shove themself back into some semblance of standing right before the villain pulled the door open.

The villain’s face did a sort of spasming thing as soon as they saw the hero, jaw dropping slightly in what the hero could only really read as shock.

There was a very considerable amount of blood on the door. They were cold.

“I–” the hero tried, but they weren’t really sure where they had been going with that sentence, and after yesterday and the screaming and the fight the villain probably didn’t want to see them at all, didn’t want to ever see their face again, so–their mind blanked. “I got blood on your door.”

They tried to gesture towards it, but that hurt, so their hand simply twitched slightly from where it hung by their side.

They glanced down at their feet, because they didn’t want to see what the villain’s face was doing, especially if what it was doing was anything resembling anger.

“Oh.” There was blood at the hero’s feet. “And on your porch, too, I guess.”

They looked up at the villain, but they were still staring at them, brow furrowed, hand clenching on the doorframe.

“I’m sorry.”

There was a very faint quiver of tears when they said it, and the hero knew better than to hope the villain didn’t catch it. 

Were they saying sorry for the porch or the door or yesterday–

“Holy shit,” the villain finally breathed, and it sounded like it had been punched out of them. The hero froze, panic rising in their chest.

“I’m sorry,” the hero blurted out, stammering. “I’m–I’m so sorry, I’ll go, just–could I maybe have some bandages? Just–just one, maybe, please? I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” they said uselessly, head swimming. They couldn’t even remember what they were doing here. The villain was perfect in every sense of the word, stoic and proper and collected in a way the hero would never be; a marble statue brought to life. The idea of them letting the hero–the personification of a train wreck in motion–in to bleed all over the villain’s soft carpet and nice shoes and cause irreparable damage to their very expensive house was almost laughable. 

If they had had the breath to laugh.

More of the hero’s blood dripped onto the slats of the porch, and they stepped back. “I’m sorry–”

The villain reached for them, and the hero flinched, taking it for the dismissal it was–

The hero blinked, and it stuck for a moment too long as the world tilted, and when they pried their eyes open again the villain was staring at them with something the hero was too out of it with pain and possibly delirium to identify. Their gaze drifted back to the blood smeared on the door, and the villain’s grip tightened on the hero’s bicep–when had they grabbed the hero’s bicep?–until the hero’s gaze returned to theirs.

The villain said something, but there was a roaring that had started up in the hero’s ears. They seemed to take the uncomprehending blink the hero gave them in return for an answer anyways, and guided them down until they were both sitting on the cool wood. A tug, and the hero was resting against their own propped up knees, villain’s hand still firm on their arm.

“How much blood did you lose?”

It was like screaming underwater, the hero reasoned. Or through a mirror. But they heard it nonetheless, and that was their villain, and even in hatred and war they would always answer them.

“Was ‘supposed to be counting?” If they had any more energy–or maybe slightly more blood–in their body, the slur to their own words would have been concerning.

The villain’s lips pursed into a thin line, and the hero felt them begin to run an assessing hand over their injuries, cataloguing them, brow furrowing further with every second.

“M’sorry,” they managed, tongue thick. The villain didn’t pause.

“For what?”

“Bleeding on your door,” they managed. The villain stopped them from raising their head from their knees. “And your–porch.”

“I don’t give a shit about either of those things,” the villain said, simply, easily. Like it was nothing. Like they didn’t feel the weight of it as they threw it into the air.

The villain sat back on their heels, clearly having learned what they wanted from the hero’s injuries.

When the hero didn’t immediately look at them, the villain grabbed their chin, gently turning it until the hero faced them.

“How far did you walk,” they said slowly, and the hero had never been more grateful for anything in their life.

“Four miles,” the hero said, and they couldn’t hear their own voice above the roaring, but the villain obviously could from the way their eyes darkened.

The hero wanted no part in making the villain angry again–I never want to see you again, do you hear me? If you ever try to talk to me again I will kill the both of us, I promise you that–, but when they attempted to push themselves up to leave, the only thing they managed was a piteous whine and a stab of pain so intense they forgot to breathe.

“Idiot,” the villain hissed. But oddly, the hero didn’t sense any anger coming from the villain.

They blinked–too long, again–and found themselves in the villain’s arms as they walked through the house. Their head lolled back onto the villain’s shoulder, and the villain glanced down as if–to make sure the hero was okay. That they were conscious, and breathing.

Oh.

Oh.

The villain wasn’t angry.

They were afraid. For the hero.

Which didn’t make any sense, because–

I never want to see you again–

“You’re mad at me,” the hero reasoned, and it came out half strangled and petulant. The villain looked down at them, and the hero caught the tiniest flinch in their jaw.

“I’m not mad at you.”

“That’s not what you said yesterday,” the hero whispered, and the villain flinched.

“I wanted to stop this from happening.” The villain settled them onto a bathroom counter, lights flickering on as the hero leaned back against the mirror. Blood began to dry, sticky, between their fingers.

The hero’s mouth went dry, and it caught in their throat when they tried to swallow it.

“You could have just left me there.” Their voice only shook a little bit, but the villain’s head still snapped up from where they had been digging through a drawer.

“What?”

“On the porch,” the hero clarified, clearing their throat. The lump didn’t go away, and they had begun shaking at some point, and they couldn’t stop. “If you didn’t want to deal with me you could have just left me there–”

The villain’s face had darkened into something the hero almost didn’t recognize. 

“I would burn the world for you, and you think I would leave you to die on my porch?”

“You said you didn’t want this to happen.”

“No, that’s not–” the villain rubbed a hand over their brow, and the hero winced at the blood it left behind. “No. No, that’s not what I meant. I was trying to keep you from going to that stupid event and getting hurt. I knew it was going to blow.”

“I would have gone anyway.”

The villain stilled. “I thought maybe if you never wanted to see me again, and you knew I was there…”

“I would,” the hero repeated. “Have gone anyway.”

The hero watched as the villain’s face rippled through a dozen emotions, settling onto something unidentifiable.

“Why?”

“Because you were there,” the hero said easily, shrugging one shoulder. Because when it came to the villain, it really was that easy. They could scream, and shout, and hold a knife to the hero’s throat, and the hero would still follow them into hell. That was their villain.

The villain looked like the hero had stabbed them, face draining of color. Their fingers went white around the edge of the counter, as if it was the only thing keeping them upright.

“What,” the villain’s voice was hoarse.

“I went because I was hoping you would be there,” the hero said honestly

“Stop,” the villain raised a hand between them, a shield, voice breaking. They sucked in a breath, then another, like they were trying to keep themself from breaking down onto the tile.

“You would have gone to the event no matter what, just to see me,” the villain said slowly, and the hero nodded

“Yes.”

“Even though I screamed at you?”

“Yes.”

“And told you I hated you.”

“Villain, please–”

“Now you know,” the villain interrupted, voice incredibly soft. “Why I would have never left you on that porch.”

The hero forgot to breathe for a moment, tongue going numb in their mouth. The villain couldn’t mean–

They blinked for a moment too long, and then the villain was standing between the hero’s knees, hand on their chest.

“You love me,” the hero said a moment later.

“Ruinously,” the villain agreed.

“So you–”

“I was trying to save your life,” the villain’s hands were gentle as they began to patch up the hero’s side. “And now I’m saving your life in a new and unanticipated way. But there is nothing you could ever do to stop me from saving your life.”

The hero’s heart clenched. 

“Really?”

The villain caught their chin, eyes boring into the hero’s. They brushed a piece of hair off the side of the hero’s face.

“Really.”

The hero sighed, and the villain caught them as they slumped.

“I thought you hated me,” the hero said, and they hated how raw they sounded. The villain made a choked little noise.

“I’m so sorry.”

The hero sniffed.

“Don’t do it again.”

The villain simply hummed, and smoothed the ends of a bandage down against the hero’s abdomen. The hero could feel their hands shaking.

You scared me.

A second later, their hands settled on either side of the hero’s head, and the villain rested their face into the hero’s hair. They pressed a kiss to the hero’s temple, tension easing from their shoulders.

I’m sorry.

The hero clutched the front of the villain’s shirt between their hands, drawing them closer. The villain went willingly, loose limbed with affection and the rapid draining of terror from their system.

“I would have never left you on that porch.”

The hero had never believed anyone more.

[supernowa-art]

now that you're all gone, i bet you don't feel lighter

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Consider: Vaggie idly tracing her fingers along Charlie's horns, while Charlie's tail almost unconsciously coils to pull Vaggie closer.

Consider: post-almost breakup Charlie Morningstar's separation anxiety and new habit of curling up in demon mode on Vaggie's side of the bed whenever she's feeling miserable, and maybe Vaggie needed to see that

hmm this is more like a fic outline sampler than a headcanon. ah well

they're more partners than ever before, but being partners plus the hotel thing too also means they've each got so much stuff to DO

and they can't always do it together now

the newly re-built hotel (and relationship) comes with new rituals for them, like the squeeze of hands at the hotel gate when it's a busy day and one of them has to be on one side of town dealing with Cannibal Town politeness conventions and the other has to be on the other side of Pentagram City, saying thanks to Carmine while handing over all the new weapons picked up after the battle. Thank fuck there's two of them to cover it all and a promise to meet up back there later, like how they did after the-

Charlie doesn't like thinking about that part though. They separate and she blazes through Cannibal town with a smile big enough to devour heaven, instead thinking about meeting up with Vaggie at the hotel gates again just like they did last time, and won't THAT be fun?

she laughs and sings and pulls the cannibals into gleeful choruses of bloody defiance against heaven as they have proper gorgeous cannibal dinner funerals for the slain while Rosie watches with teeth-glinting interest

and maybe Charlie rushed things a bit too somehow, because she trots up the the hotel later all exhausted and eager and

finds the gates empty

had she really thought it would go just like last time? Had she really been counting on it...?

Charlie's wooden smile as she settles in to wait. Pacing up and down, doing a few nervous tap dances, casting hopeful looks down the street towards the Carmine territory

she could just call. Text to say she's home and Cannibal town went good and check in on how Vaggie's doing. Maybe ask if Vaggie wants Charlie to run over? Maybe they could meet up and walked home together, if Vaggie needs a hand with Carmilla-

no, Charlie shoves her phone away stops herself. She's not going to repeat the day with the trust building exercises, she's not going to ask Vaggie to do something and then not trust her with it or even risk making it LOOK like that's what's happening

one time being asked to leave Vaggie alone on a roof like that was enough

Charlie can just wait this time too

time ticks by. She fixes her hair, hugs herself, and tries not to look over at the giant gleaming memorial statue to Dazzle. she tries to wait

but handling things alone has never been Charlie's thing and waiting for Vaggie doesn't count as not feeling alone, so she doesn't stay out there long in the end

half an hour finds her heading into the endless noise of the hotel where someone is bickering with someone else about something. Charlie heads past it up to their room, too tired to do anything other than curl up and wait even if it mans being back in Vaggie's empty side of the bed

she also, though, keeps their bedroom suit door open a crack so she can hear the distant sounds of swearing from downstairs

Razzle would've been there to snuggle up with her, but right after shrugging off her jacket and kicking off her shoes and calling for him Charlie remembers she sent him off with Vaggie today. She'd insisted on it- just a little just-in-case help, just until the fresh heavenly steel marks in Vaggie's flesh stopped being quite so fresh both literally on Vaggie and non-literally on Charlie's stretched thin nerves

remembering Vaggie's blood smeared on her skin makes her feel sharp both inside and out, all horns and claws as she drops into bed, spade tipped tail already lashing the bedsheets into a lather

angry hurts less than loneliness so Charlie hunches inward and let's herself be angry all over again, burning over the years of guilt she spent thinking her home and her people had hurt Vaggie, done that to Vaggie, only to find out it was heaven all along

she sinks her claws into the bed and imagines Lute's flesh and bone being punctured instead. Imagines ripping-

Vaggie's small proud smile as she talked about having shone mercy flashes through Charlie's head and she snarls, kicking it away- of all the fucking times to show mercy, the one time Charlie's life actually could have been made so much simpler from Vaggie impaling someone-

cloven hoof slams into hardwood bedframe and cracks it. Charlie curls up tighter, not noticing how the voices downstairs have gone quiet

Charlie doesn't like being angry. Worse than that she hates being alone

right now she's both

Vaggie wasn't waiting for her at the gates and it's not fair how much that scared her, when there's nothing wrong and nothing to be scared of

she tells herself that and tells herself that, trying to relax

she's a lot less scared when she blinks awake later and hears Vaggie yelling at someone downstairs

and she COULD get out of bed now, she could jump up and smooth down her shirt, fix her hair, go bounding down the stairs three at a time and scoop Vaggie up in a twirl before Vaggie can even look around from threatening whoever was messing with the hotel today. Charlie could laugh and hug her and soak in Vaggie's smile and tell Vaggie how she missed her

Charlie stays in bed

She stays on Vaggie's side of their bed with her heart pounding, listening to Vaggie and Razzle bickering up the stairs

"...not a big deal and she won't notice anyway, right? My skin's already grey. You can't really tell if it's bruised..."

"Rrrreh!"

"Alright fine, she'd notice if you told her, which you could but won't."

"RRR."

"No you don't have to. How many doughnuts to make you not want to this time?"

"Mmmmr..."

"Me crashing into a window while flying us home is NOT worth two dozen doughnuts. I don't care how dumb I looked hitting the newly angel-proofed glass."

"Skrrrrghghghgh~"

"What do you mean you stole my phone and recorded it-"

she hears the exact moment Vaggie pushes open the door and stops dead

"Charlie...?"

Vaggie, seeing now exactly what Charlie had worked so hard not to let her see back then when being angry and hurt had hurt Charlie less than the gaping hole of terrifying loneliness she'd gotten from looking at Vaggie and wondering if Vaggie wanting to be with her- if the woman Charlie loves wanting to be with her- had just been another lie too

small wings flutter and Razzle's little paws pat her hair, little goat demon nose snuffling at her cheek

"Sweetie." Vaggie's voice is closer this time. Less confused. More worried. "Are you..."

Charlie doesn't want her finishing that question

talking would be the more normal option. Just tell Vaggie how she'd felt, but Rosie had said actions matter more and Charlie doesn't know what she felt or how to say it all anyway

so she makes the colossal effort to wiggle her tail tip out from under the blankets and lift it into a tiny wave

"Hi, Vaggie." she whispers, "You're back."

maybe she says 'i missed you' with those two last words anyway

because Vaggie is suddenly there by the bed, Vaggie who can step so quiet sometimes like she's not even touching the ground- the dancer in her Charlie used to think but maybe it's the angel thing- and Charlie can tell she's there with her eyes closed just from how her own muscles start to relax, even before Vaggie reaches down

"Hey." It's a soft stroke to Charlie's hoof, the one poking out from under the blanket cocoon, the one who'd kicked out earlier and probably dented their poor bed. "Tough time in Cannibal town?"

they're both really bad at actually talking about things. But that's fine

Charlie only notices her shivers when Vaggie presses down on her ankle and stops them, like magic. "Cannibal town was fine."

Vaggie hums. It's warm and low and soft and Charlie can hear how she knows what wasn't fine today, feels it in the squeeze of Vaggie's hand before Vaggie tucks the blankets in all neat an tidy around their balled-up blob of Charlie

"Do you want our door open," Vaggie asks, "or door closed?"

"Closed."

"Rrrrr." Razzle is up and fluttering before Vaggie can move. Razzle knows what Charlie needs just as much as she does

there's a click of the lock and a ping of guilt for only using the sounds of the hotel to make herself feel better when Vaggie wasn't here to do a better job of it, then a pang of something more sweet than bitter, thinking about how doors being open or closed were never even a question back when it was just them at home

the edge of the bed next to Charlie sinks and pulls her like gravity towards where Vaggie settles, sitting and fitting perfectly in the curve of the pitiful puddle of Charlie

"Kinda nice having guests in the hotel, huh?"

Vaggie's hand is brushing loose strands of hair away from Charlie's face, smoothing them off Charlie's horns and then staying there.

"Even if they're still part-time assholes about it."

Charlie feels it when Vaggie breaths in at the end of the sentence, tail having found its way over and around Vaggie without Charlie thinking about it

She thinks about how Vaggie had been yelling downstairs and trying to bribe Razzle on the way up. A corner of her mouth crooks, almost smiling

"Did they laugh when you hit the window?"

Tense up and slump and Vaggie huffing, giving up hiding it, also almost laughing too

"Only once."

There's a bruise on her somewhere a new fresh one to match the faded ones from the battle and Charlie's searching eyes snap open, that constant tight fist in her chest grabbing her heart and squeezing

"Are you okay?"

Vaggie is already looking back at her, like she's been waiting this whole time

"I'm fine, Charlie," she smiles. "Just a bruise to my stupid pride. Just what I get, for being in such a hurry."

her wings are still out. One relaxed and drooping all the way to the floor like a tossed aside blanket and the other held up over Charlie, feathers almost brushing her, mirroring Vaggie's arm still reaching out and her hand drifting mindlessly between smooth blood-red horn and tangled somewhat messy hair

she doesn't say she was in a hurry 'to see you' in the same way Charlie hadn't said 'i missed you' and that why today wasn't fine

that's okay

everything is okay, as long as Charlie can tug Vaggie closer and curl in closer around her still, her head snuggling on Vaggie's lap. As long as Vaggie can cradle her there with hands and wings and be there for Charlie to feel it when she breathes

-

post-angel revelation Vaggie sees a lot her demon gf's horns and tail and markings, more than she had in all the years they've been together

it's never about her wings. not about her lost halo, her spear, all the people she's killed with it. That's, somehow, not the problem

The problem is Charlie knows she knows about heaven now and she has questions, so many questions, but all Vaggie has are an exorcist's very narrow answers and a lightness where her mask used to be, and scars

Charlie always tries asking about the scars, then inevitably about how the fight with Lute went. Charlie can't ask those things or listen to the answers without heating up, angry in slow and silent and steady way Vaggie's never seen from her before

and sometimes Vaggie notices how she's casually playing with Charlie's horns during those talks, or tracing the black marks scoring down Charlie's cheeks or feeling how Charlie's tail adjusts it's already tight grip around her waist. Sometimes she wonders about how she savors it, when she's got her new ashen wings out and Charlie's running her pitch black talonned hands through them, like she wants to memorize every feather and check on each one, like how she seeks out Vaggie's new scars now too and adds it all to the tally of every last thing Lute took

it feels wrong to smile at the sight of the woman she loves wanting to kill someone because of her

definitely its wrong seeing Charlie wanting to kill not in a flash of passionate protective rage, but muted and hard and thoughtful. Vaggie has to have something wrong with herself when she sees how wrong that anger looks on Charlie, and still finds herself smiling over it

wrong feels pretty nice. That should worry her

Vaggie absentmindedly testing her thumb on one of Charlie's horn tips or breathing in to deepen the constrictor snake hug of Charlie's tail digging into her ribs. It's nice and it does make Vaggie smile

she'd felt Charlie's claws trembling at the end of the battle, them standing together as they looked down at un-armed and disarmed and half blinded from tears Lute

if ever there was a time to feel sympathy that would have been it. Well. Maybe it would've a bit more sympathetic if Lute hadn't still been spattered with Vaggie's blood. The woman had been on her knees and crying though, and Charlie had been ready to let Adam run home alive....

and if Vaggie hadn't been there anchoring Charlie, Lute would've been dead

but she had and Charlie hadn't and Lute wasn't

it's making Charlie angry, Vaggie knows, thinking about how the person who wanted to take out Vaggie's other eye before killing her is still out there, will probably be pathetic enough to try that shit again. Charlie doesn't like to be angry and now just looking at the new scar on Vaggie's post-impaled hand brings out the horns and hint of hellfire. Vaggie should feel bad about that

she runs her hand over Charlie's horns, hums into the tail wrapped round her chest, drapes herself and her wings over her girlfriend and smiles into Charlie's hair

these days Charlie wants so badly to hurt people for her, but also won't, because of her

Lute's life was Vaggie's choice and Vaggie chose mercy- edged with spite and the sharp cruel edge of revenge, sure, but still it was mercy and a second chance- and Charlie listened to that. Listened to her. Had needed her there for once as a reminder to be good

that almost makes it feel like.... maybe Vaggie does belong down in hell after all, in the good ways as well as the bad. Like maybe she really does belong right here, with Charlie

maybe Charlie holding on like this means she won't ever let Vaggie go

[fluffyluckyvampire]

I just had a dream that was basically a zombie apocalypse AU of obey me, where sometime after the extange programa a virus breaks out in the human realm and MC and Solomon desperately try to find a cure with both necromancy and science. (In my dream, they used somesort of necromancy type magic, so it'd only affect the dead) MC returned to the Devildom to research more magic and be safer while doing it; but MC (still being mortal) works themselves to the bone, barely sleeping or stopping to eat. So Mammon (and the rest of the brothers but mainly Mamms) are desperate to get MC to take a break, which MC (due to stress) kinda snaps at him because 'humans as a species are in danger' which in response (instewd of backing down) he brings up that if MC doesn't stop and take a break they'll probably end up stressing to death (because humans are fragile) and leave Solomon alone to try and fix this so MC tales a break but all they can think about is the literal apocalypse happening in the human realm.

ALSO, in my dream, whenever MC had to go to the human realm or were ever in danger, the brothers would bust ass and kill any zombies trying to kill/bite/get to MC.

Anyway, I thought that was interesting 🤷‍♂️

(Yes, I literally just woke up to tell ya'll my dream😭)

[javierduffy]

missed them so bad my heart hurt so i slapped these together at the gym

[indig0-constellations]

I like to think that after Ice died, Mav kept his shoes by the front door so that when he gets home after work and takes his shoes off it’s like Ice is still there in the house waiting for him to come home

[creativesplat]

Stealing/ Affection: Link steals some time with Mipha after his death, and before his spirit rejoins his body in the shrine of resurrection.

[squuote]

actually being an adult rewatching gravity falls has given me a completely new appreciation for this series that I can’t quite describe. Like it’s a complete new experience that I’m also just reliving but now as an entirely different being and it’s so nice? I don’t even really know what I’m saying here but there’s something about it that I’m just appreciating on a new level. I suppose it could be the appreciation of having the experience of watching it through the lens of being a kid and now being able to watch it years later with the same yet newer outlook on everything. Not even really sure how to define that though other than being happy that I had this show as a kid and being happy to still have it now

[beanghostprincess]

Sabo still struggles with memory loss. He had his childhood back, of course, he remembers Ace and Luffy and everything they did together. But he doesn't remember some stuff. Some anecdotes Luffy tells oh so excitedly? He can't recall that those happened. And if he does, it's all blurry and never at all like Luffy says. But he never says anything because that would break his brother's heart, to know his older brother isn't fully back with him, so he nods and smiles and pretends he knows what Luffy is talking about every time.

His room is filled with Post-it notes. Stupid, really. Dumb stuff. But he has all the meetings he needs to remember and the missions he has to do, along with everything he wants to write down at some point properly. The walls are covered in pictures of the people he loves (Luffy, Ace, Koala, Robin... All the others that have ever meant something to him because he refuses to forget somebody again).

He keeps writing dumb stuff down. Anything. He refuses to forget. He denies the possibility of doing it again.

But he forgets. Sabo keeps forgetting important dates. Important parts of his life, like his past with his brothers (he forgets a random adventure they had that he swore he had talked about the day prior) and crucial things he has to do. He has a hard time picturing his memories. Putting them in his brain. Turning them into images. Saying it's frustrating is a huge understatement.

Koala helps him out, of course. She's hard on him so he finishes his paperwork, but she knows it's difficult sometimes. She's his personal calendar and diary. She informs him of what he has to do during the week and always tries to talk and talk about anecdotes that she knows he still remembers but knows he loves to hear again.

His mental health isn't the best either, but he refuses to acknowledge it. There's a revolution at hand, he can't stop working. And fighting. And doing more and more and more. But sometimes it's just too much. Sometimes he goes into depressive episodes he can't control, and the medication is either addicting or the worst thing that has ever happened to him. Sometimes he's a bit too intense. Koala says he needs to calm down, that he has a problem with his fixation on the revolution and his past. Sabo keeps saying that it's fine. But he sometimes forgets or has blurry images of the fights and the people he has killed, filled with energy and excitement and like he has the power of a God. He doesn't like those. Enjoys the moment. Hates to forget it. Hates to know what he did during it too, even if it was for a good cause. Despises the look Koala gives him, also. Makes her promise not to tell Luffy about all of this.

But it's fine, he keeps saying. Sabo will keep trying to never forget anything ever again.

[the-lark-ascending69]

android!Robin has several technical problems, the most important ones having to do with her memory card, battery and motor skills.

Androids are supposed to have perfect photographic memory, but Robin's memory is poor even by human standards. She tends to forget where she left her keys, what she was going to do when walking into a room, etc. She forgets her schedule all the time, as well as Nancy's, and can't remember a recipe to save her life. Dustin and Suzie say it's a problem with the connections needed to access her memory card, rather than with the memory card itself. It's fixeable, but extremely difficult and expensive. Robin wants to get this fixed and she's working hard to pay for it - she doesn't want to be an inconvenience. Nancy will support her decision, but she really isn't bothered by Robin's poor memory. She just hopes she's doing it for herself and not to make herself "easier to handle" for other people (she's been told that's what her worth was based on her entire life).

She's only had one memory card her entire life (as far as she knows). Nancy's greatest fear is Robin hitting her head and it breaking. One could potentially take out the memory card and delete it or install a new one - that is Robin's greatest fear.

At one point, her connections get so bad there will be days in which she can't remember Nancy at all, or what her own name is. She'll act almost like a normal android those days - following orders, not speaking unless necessary, not expressing emotion unless instructed to, etc, though her poor motor skills, battery problems and bad memory will make it difficult. It freaks Nancy out every time, and she always tries to get her to snap out of it as if she were human, before accepting that love can't solve this problem, and calling Dustin and Suzie to fix it. She'll pay any price if it means having her Robin back.

Robin lets herself be turned off without complaint, without even the terrified shudder Nancy used to feel when she forcibly did it during their first weeks together. Robin's docile obedience as she let Nancy do this to her, and the way her body went limp in Nancy's arms, never failed to bring Nancy to tears.

It would take days for Dustin and Suzie to fix some of Robin's problems. This one took between one and two weeks. Longest it ever got was 16 days. During that time, Robin would lay lifeless on their workshop's table, her battery sitting somewhere else to prevent her from turning on automatically. Dustin insisted that he and his lady (as he called Suzie) worked best when their kingdom (their workshop) was untouched by foreign hands, so Nancy wasn't always welcome to visit Robin in that state. Nancy was relentless, though, and she usually managed to convince him to let her in for a few minutes. He thinks it's pointless - it's not like Robin can feel her there. She can't even dream. It doesn't change anything. In fact, he worries Nancy will be more disturbed than comforted, because Robin's entire skull, neck and spine will be exposed - only it's not bones and flesh inside, but metal and plastic circuits, plates, chips, wires and pistons. He's careful to at least put her face back in place when Nancy visits. He expects her to be taken aback by the sight, but instead, Nancy's eyes are full of so much worry and care and adoration as she observes Robin's lifeless body. She doesn't dare touch her - she doesn't want to hurt her. But she misses her so deeply.

When it's all finished, Nancy takes her back home with the utmost care and tucks her into bed. She waits by her side until she turns back on, and softly talks to her, asks her how she's feeling, brings her some water and asks her questions, to see if she's back to normal. Because it's all recorded in her memory card, Robin can remember everything - can remember the time she spent not knowing who she is, thought she can't remember if she was self-aware during those episodes. Whenever she wakes up, she's just happy to see Nancy, and wants hugs and cuddles from her, but she begins to cry out of fear as she tries to remember the details of not being. Nancy holds her every time, asks her if she wants to watch cartoons or if she wants her to read a book for her, to keep her from spiraling. She hates seeing Robin look so small and scared, but she also knows she's not scared of anything Nancy can protect her from. The horrors haunting her come from her own mind and her own nature.

(Dustin and Suzie make a copy of Robin's memory card and give it to her, just in case).

Dustin and Suzie take care of any fixes Robin needs. They're much nicer than any other technician at the previous repair shops she's been to. The most usual fixes have to do with weakness and stiffness in her knees and hips, especially on her right leg (it got broken pretty badly during a beating by her last owner - Billy Hargrove. He wanted to make her unable to walk. The person his father sold her to next did a poor job fixing her). These fixes are usually quite simple and take very little time. She will refuse to see them, though, until she reaches her breaking point when she struggles to stand up, or when she suddenly falls to the ground. It always worries Nancy to death - she's terrified of Robin hitting herself and suffering even more damage. It always takes some convincing for Nancy to get her in her car and on their way to Dustin's workshop. Sometimes, the fix will be so simple they don't even need to turn her off. Nancy holds her hand during these.

The third big problem is her battery. Thankfully, her battery is detachable and easily replaceable. They only had a mayor issue with it once, and they had to order a new one. Robin's model is rare enough that it took over a week to get there. During that time, they installed solar pannels in the balcony and Robin had to be connected to them with long, thick cables that stretched all around the apartment. It was more amusing than anything else, having to step around the cables and make sure none of them got accidentally disconnected. Cloudy days made her pretty much useless and had her lying in bed watching cartoons all day. She was completely turned off after sunset and she was up by sunrise. Needless to say, she couldn't leave the apartment for the week and had to call in sick to work.

Good thing was, though, that the new battery worked much better than the previous one. It lasted much longer. Nancy had only seen her this excited a few other times. The way she kicked her bedroom door down with a wide smile on her face as she yelled at her to come to the kitchen just made Nancy smile with adoration. Robin showed her the box in her hands - she was shaking with excitement - and asked Nancy to help her install it. She turned herself off and Nancy did the rest - disconnected cables, take out old battery, install new one. When she turned Robin back on, she was more full of life and energy than she'd ever seen her be. Free from her cables, she immediately grabbed Nancy's hands and dragged her outside - the sun was shining and she wanted to run around in the park, to roll on the grass and count the cloud and photosynthesize with a good book in her hand. To Nancy, she looked like a puppy, or a happy little bird just released from its cage. She could never say no to her, they would spend the entire day outside if Robin wanted to.

[whoopsies-daisies]

hey tadc fanfic writers

pls write more jax angst please pleeeeeeaase write more jax angst. I need to see that man fucking BREAK. you understand. Thank you for your consideration.

[alch-emi]

Thinking abt Sky again

[heffrondriving]

oh so NOW y'all rushers wanna talk about James Diamond/Jett Stetson and Jo Taylor/Lucy Stone?!??!?!!! NOW y'all wanna go and totally get behind that like it's the next big revelation?!!??? WHERE WERE Y'ALL WHEN I WAS OUT THERE FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE ALONE IN THE FRONTLINES COVERED IN BLOOD AND RELENTLESSLY HERALDING THESE DAMN RAREPAIRS WITH EVERY INCH OF MY BATTERED CONVICTION AND YET NO ONE FUCKIN LISTENED?!?!!!! ISTG I'M GODDAMN CASSANDRA RN FINALLY WATCHING FORETOLD PROPHECIES GET FULFILLED AND YET. THE VINDICATION FEELS ALL TOO LATE AS THE LEGACY I HAVE BUILT IS ALL BUT FORGOTTEN NOW

[potatounicoorn]

Don't teach your daughter about sacrifice, if you aren't ready for what it might bring

[pressuredrightnow]

in the reprise of NOMTW glinda doesnt sing the ending part. in the movie i want her singing at first, as is, then just choke on the words and just stop all together showing that no. someone is mourning elphaba. and its her.