#i know. i know i’m a horrible person. i know they don’t love me and i know i don’t deserve for them to love me so why are they pretending

[shy-canadian-snowflake]

Not Sober Pt 2

“Hm. Morning baby.” Wade said softly, reaching out for Logan. Logan rolled over and faced the other, a frown on his face. It took a second for Wade to clue in. “Oh.”

“Oh? Oh is all you have to say? Wade, you got stoned last night.” Logan shook his head. “Your doctor told you- you know better. It can worsen your delusions.” 

“I’m not sorry.” The man stated, sitting up. Logan joined him and reached for his hand. Wade wanted to pull away but didn’t. Logan intertwined their fingers. 

“Talk Mouth. Explain to me so I can understand why the hell you’d put your mental health at risk. You’ve been doing so good.” Wade’s lips twitched up into a sad smile as he took Logan’s hand and pressed it into his cheek. He nuzzled into the warm palm and let out a long sigh. 

“I felt like I could control the chaos in my head. Sober me has been getting his fucking ass kicked. My brain is telling me I'm an awful human who only harms people, who only brings fucking suffering and sadness and despair. That there’s a ‘But’ when you say you are happy that I’m still alive.” 

“Darlin. I am happy you are here.” Wade shook his head slowly and pulled Logan’s hand into his lap. He pressed on different parts of his palm, massaging it out. 

“It still feels like there’s a ‘But’. But not really. But only when you are having a good day. But only when you are useful. It’s stupid.”

“It is fucking stupid because it’s not fucking true. I’ll love you bad day or good Bub.” Wake looked at him with a weak smile before going back to playing with his hand.

“Weed helps. I can see my own mental health in the maze that is my head. I can handle the world with all its fucking bullshit, I can understand the situation going on without feeling crippling panic. Everything is in neat tidy boxes that I can grab and organize and file everything away.” He gave a weak laugh, shaking his head. “ It might take me a few more minutes to do things or get the words out but I feel like a functional person who can work, who can do things. I feel like a normal person. I feel okay. I feel real.”

“You are real Wade.” 

“Yeah Well.” He turned Logan's hand over to trace the veins on the back of it. “I don’t fucking feel like it.”

There was a moment of silence as each man took a moment to collect their thoughts. Wade was the first to break the silence, like he always was.

“When I’m sober, I’m locked in a room of dark spaghetti and I can’t get out. I’m drowning in fear of what is going on in the world, the fact that we have a billionaire that’s getting a little too close to being a well known dictator with a horrible taste in mustaches. All of these noodles of despair and fear. Time does repeat and we don’t learn and the sun is going to blow up one day so is it even worth anything and I’m just so scared and I feel like I’ll never not be scared and- and Weed quiets all that. Weed brings me to the chaos I can control. I can consent too. My brain is making me think and feel things without my consent.”

“Okay.” Logan said slowly, throwing an arm around the other and pulling him close. Wade head butted him which he did so back, “What can I do to help?”

“Let me smoke weed without judgment.” 

“And what is your head saying to ya?” Wade hated that Logan always knew when he wasn’t all right. Sometimes it was great when he was questioning his own reality. Questioning if something is really there. It’s not so great when the voices in his ear are telling him things that make sense to him, but he knows won’t make sense to another living soul. It was like messages only for him to understand. Spoken in an old  language only he understood. 

“If I can break my ankle I’ll be in control of my chaos. My mind won’t control me today.” He sighed out, not bothering to fight. 

“That’s why you shouldn’t do weed, darlin. It’s telling you things that aren’t true.”

“They feel fucking true. Can I just die for a few hours and wake up with a better head?” 

“Al will be pissed if we got more blood and guts on this couch.” Wade flopped back onto the pull-out, sighing loudly. 

“I don’t want to fight Logan. I want my mind to be silent for one goddamn day.” There was a warble to his voice as he spoke. Logan laid down beside him, pulling him close- chest to back. He tucked his legs behind Wades, causing the man to curl up a bit more. His arm thrown over Wade’s chest made sure to keep his hand pressed into Wade’s heart, feeling the beating of it through the shirt he wore. 

“Do the meds. Do the meetings. Do what you got to. You will have a quiet day again Wade.”

“I doubt it.” 

“You will.” And Logan spoke with such certainty that Wade wanted to believe.

---

I'm having a real fucking hard time. My brain is saying to break my ankle. It makes sense too. If I do, the pain will override my brain and I won't have to be so fucking scared of everything. Future me- Don't smoke weed, it's not worth this fucking dark puddle.

[ouliarts]

Darkest Dungeon 2 spoilers for Abomination Backstory and Hunger of the beast clan update

Just a little character analysis The Abomination and how I feel about his new lore. It's a little long because I have thoughts about the sad science man

I’m probably in the minority with this but I actually really like the Abomination backstory in DD2. Like I genuinely like what it means for the character. I get the appeal of the idea that he was an alchemist who was experimenting with making a curse and accidentally cursed himself. I even had a similar headcanon about it before the dlc. But there's something about his story in dd2 that really hits me.

In the first game there was a bit of mystery around Bigby. he felt like the one hero that probably holds himself with the least amount of care. All the other heroes wear armor, have proper weapons, nice clothes that are well maintained. Bigby doesn’t have that. He wears teared pants, no shirt, no shoes, a single cloth that he isn’t even properly wearing, man is constantly gripping it. He doesn’t even bother trying to hide his brand. This is not a man who sees himself as worth taking care of. Is it because of guilt? Well he probably deserves it right? Maybe he brought it upon himself, maybe he was messing with things he didn’t understand and now this is his punishment?

And then we get the lore drop that the circumstance that led him to be like this wasn’t even his own fault. It was a horrible accident (that probably could have been avoided if he wasn’t being dumb and going to a well known dangerous moor, with no protection, at night, alone with no guide. I love you Bigby but that was not a pro gamer move). He was mauled, he didn’t want to die. Managing to save himself with a serum that ended up just sealing his fate. Then he was taken in and tortured by the church for who knows how long for reasons he didn’t understand (I don’t think he even killed anyone; they just mentioned a mutilated cow).

And then when he finally transforms he's horrified. Could you imagine his feelings? He was tortured, branded and right after that his body transformed into something horrifying before his own eyes. He has no control over it, no say to what happens. And then he wakes up, alone, surrounded by dead bodies he made. Because they were right. They should have been afraid of him. How could he ever trust himself again? When he caused all of this. 

Bro is suicidal as heck man, even his in game dialogue has him constantly thinking he should die. This man does not think he is worth anything anymore.

I would also like to point out that his beast form doesn’t look right. It doesn’t look like a regular rotclaw at least (I think we all can agree it was probably a rotclaw that jumped him, they literally have an attack that mauls you with blight damage)

Like comparing the two side by side. One arm is bigger than the other, he barely has any fur, his legs are different being clawed instead of hooves, his teeth are sharper and he's a lot smaller compared to one (that last could just be cause of gameplay reason, maybe he's suppose to be the same size but he has to fit in the line up somehow)

I like to think it's because he made that imperfect antidote. I think he was legit supposed to either die from the poison that night but he managed to save himself with the mess of a serum he managed to scrounge together. Only that serum was not at all perfect because he used all the wrong things and he couldn’t remember the recipe so he ended up just making the mutation worse. Sealing his fate. Why else would Red Hook purposely make him an Alchemist and not just a regular guy that got mauled.

So in a way he is responsible for why he is the way he is but like, can you really blame him for trying to save himself? Bro forgot the recipe for the antivenom cause he was panicking and just rawdogged it. And now he probably wishes he just let the poison kill him.

But that's a personal headcanon thing not really important to this. 

And then that one line in the last shrine. 

“Goodbye to the man that wished to chart the stars” This line really shows you how little he thinks about himself now. He just wanted to be a study some plants, chart the stars, learn about the world. But he doesn’t deserve that anymore. He doesn't deserve to be comfortable, or treated well. The man he once was is gone, no more. He's not a man anymore, he can never go back.

He made one dumb mistake And now he lives with it for the rest of his life. He hates himself for it. Blames himself, literally puts the chains back on because he cannot trust himself ever again. Because of one dumb mistake he made. He seeks redemption for things that were completely out of his control. His story is a tragedy, because he never had a choice in it. 

Anyway what I mean to say is, I really like this sopping wet cat of a nerd, with so much self loathing, that made one really dumb mistake and is being punished way too severely by the world for it. Quite literally the GOAT of all time

[frozenjokes]

the devil fosters kittens and hires exorbitantly expensive prostitution

ao3 link - this fic is rated mature on ao3. please mind the ao3 tags

Grian stood hunched over the door knob, grip tight enough to crack the handle, shaking, veins bulging. This couldn’t be happening. This could not be happening. Left alone for months- Why now?

Mumbo’s fingers were curled over Grian’s shoulder, grabbing him, shaking him, he was speaking, yelling, but it was long before the words came into focus.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!? Grian!”

Did he see it? Did Mumbo understand when Grian turned his head, looked up, did he know Grian’s fear? Had he ever seen Grian this way, petrified, moved to action by fear deeper than instinct, locked in horrible, hopeless infatuation. Grian could not name the feeling; to say romantic felt shallow, not enough, his obsession rooted further in Mumbo’s potential, his creativity, his prowess, the unrelenting love he had to give for the world in which they lived; did no one understand just how much was at stake here? Devastating could not scratch the surface of this loss, Grian could not let Mumbo be surrendered to his heritage, not when it was so clear that every person touched by Mumbo’s light was better for it.

Grian was better for it. Mumbo made him better.

“I’m afraid,” he said, and of course it was true. Because this was a battle Grian was not sure he could win. For all his willpower, he could not make Mumbo reject the call to blood. For all his longing to cover Mumbo’s eyes, take it all away, and bear it himself, this was not Grian’s burden to carry. Mumbo had to make the choice. No amount of setting him up for success could save him from the wrong path.

Grian did not want to kill him. He didn’t believe Mumbo was beyond saving, not yet, but he- he wouldn’t let Mumbo become a puppet, either. If anyone was going to snuff the light, there would be no unnecessary pain. Mumbo was a good man, and that legacy would be preserved.

“I- I know you don’t like the assassination business coming home, Grian,” Mumbo tried, and he was really trying, his own frustrations aside. “And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to come home to that, but it really wasn’t what it looked like. Cub wasn’t- I was trying to make him leave, I didn’t want him here either, and I promise I have no idea how he found our address, but he was- I don’t know, intoxicated? He was saying all sorts of crazy shit, he was really distressed, and I think I offended him and I couldn’t just send him away. I.. Maybe I should have done it anyway. I kind of panicked. He was genuinely hurt, I think so at least. He asked me to cut his hair and I- I panicked, like I said I just.. did it. I still don’t really know what he wanted, but he wasn’t here to hurt me or you. I really believe that.”

Grian didn’t believe it. He didn’t believe it for a second, not when Cub’s will was tied intrinsically to Scar’s, whether Cub was aware of it or not. Cub was a victim, but not anyone that could be saved, not anymore. The fact that he was here at all was- it was-

But Mumbo didn’t know. There was no way he could have known, and maybe the worst part was that Mumbo was only acting so unapologetically himself, Grian had nothing to blame him for. He took in a stranger. Cut his hair.

If this had not been an act, if a victim was still in there, then this was just another life Mumbo had touched, a life far more unfortunate than his own.

“I’m sorry,” Grian breathed, air coming scarce from his lungs, “I didn’t know. You did a good thing.”

Mumbo released a long breath, one Grian suspected he’d been holding in the lengthy pause between his own words and Grian’s answer. “Is he still there?”

Grian tensed, hand sweating on the handle, but after a few moments hesitation he pulled the door back regardless, just a crack. No one was there. He did not have to report; Mumbo saw it too. Grian closed the door.

“There’s something else I need to tell you. To explain this. I should have told you a lot sooner, but you were really hurt, and the amnesia was so bad for weeks, even with treatment and I-“

“Grian, what is it?” Mumbo’s brow was tight, and Grian pursed his lips in recognition.

“There was another man at the hospital, he came to pick Cub up, insisted he introduce himself to you, do you remember? It’s alright if you don’t.”

Mumbo thought for a moment, but seemed to recognize quickly there was no point. “I don’t really remember anything until a few weeks later.”

“I know,” Grian mumbled, if for no other reason but to acknowledge. Those were.. a really frightening first few days, better in the following weeks, but even now, Mumbo still struggled with his short term memory, and it’s likely he’d carry that for the rest of his life. It hurt, fuck it hurt, that Grian couldn’t prevent an injury so severe so young. It wasn’t fair, not fair to Mumbo, but it took all of Grian’s strength just to keep Mumbo from chasing this horrific assassin fixation. At least five concussions put a stop to that.. for now.

“Well, when I was waiting for you, the man who came for Cub was next to me, and apparently Cub had texted him, told him everything, and he was- I don’t even know if he was angry, but he must have a part in the hits Cub is assigned, because he kept threatening me, threatening you, and I was afraid to move, I thought he might just shoot me right there, I don’t know, I was so scared and he was so quiet, I couldn’t do anything. It’s been such a long time, I just assumed things had blown over, but.. I just freaked out, seeing Cub. I’m still- I’m really freaking out, Mumbo.”

Mumbo blinked a few times in rapid succession, mouth slightly agape. “Oh, fuck. Oh my god, Grian, you should have told me- I’m not mad, I- of course not-“ Mumbo stopped, pulling Grian away from the door and into a firm hug. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

“You didn’t know. You did a good thing, Mumbo.”

“I’ll keep a better eye. I promise. I didn’t.. I’m sorry you got dragged into this. I wish- I wanted this to be separate, but I know that’s.. stupid.”

A heavy sadness weighed on Grian’s chest, and he pushed his head into Mumbo’s shoulder, zeroing his focus on his friend’s still-beating heart. “You were upfront with me. I knew what I was getting into.” And he did. God, Mumbo had no idea the extent of it.

“I know,” Mumbo mumbled, resting his chin on Grian’s head. “Guess I just want it all.”

“We’ll get through it, Mumbo. We’ll make it through.” Grian hoped he managed to push an ounce of confidence through, though no facade could keep himself from wavering. Really, he wasn’t fooling anyone. Mumbo knew Grian’s misery as well as his own.

///

Cub thought the couch was a good addition to the cat room in the clownvent; sure, all the fostered kittens were just going to destroy it, but now Cub could experience his depression spiral in new and improved comfort, while Scar went about seeing how many four week old kittens he could stack on Cub’s back. Previous record was twelve, and Scar had set himself up for success by feeding the little bastards before putting them to bed on top of Cub, really coaxing them into sleep after a nice meal. So far, Scar had managed nine; there were fourteen current fosters at the clownvent, so the record was well within reach.

Scar crossed his legs, readjusting the kitten he was bottle feeding in his lap. It didn’t seem to mind at all, much more focused on the bottle it was affixed to and kneading into Scar’s pants.

“You know, the orphans at this age can be such a pain in the ass, especially when there’s this many, but when they’re all grown up, I find myself missing it, you know? I mean look at their itty bitty ears, Cub, they’re so damn cute I just can’t even stand it. Even when it’s the middle of the night and I have a bottle-baby shift and I’m ready to end it all. Good thing Skizz has a thing for clowns, or I think we’d all give up taking in the little ones who can’t eat yet. It gets to you! These little cretins have been a delight though, a delight. Are you sure you don’t want to feed the next one? It’s healing, it really is. You don’t even need two hands, they just sit here like angels!”

“No thanks,” Cub mumbled, turning back to lay face down into the pillow. He kinda wanted to roll over, but then Scar would lose progress on his stacking endeavors. And suddenly, like a divine reminder floating down from the heavens, Cub remembered he did not care.

Scar’s screech was immaculate, the kitten avalanche even better, all nine of them tumbling off him with startled mews and flailing paws. He felt the pinpricks of a set of claws through his shirt, and leaned back to grab it, pulling the startled kitten back into the cave of his body against the back couch cushions. It squirmed a little, alarmed, but by now these things had been manhandled to hell and back, and being scooped up by massive human paws was just a matter of life. It settled on Cub’s new cast, purring.

“Cuuuub! What have you done! They were sound asleep, you monster!”

“So sad..”

“You act like you have no control over yourself! Oohhhh you’re lucky I’ve got a kitten in my lap right now or I’d really be angry. This little monster is having the best meal of his life, and I will not take that away from him.”

“Capital punishment for whoever shat all over the wall. This is what they get.”

“Noooo! You didn’t even have to clean that up, you don’t get a say. I only sent you that picture because I have no idea how they managed it, I’m imagining kitten handstands and diarrhea explosions. They have done nothing wrong.”

“I have a fundamental problem with any shit from any creature being smeared on a perfectly good wall.”

“Well I have a fundamental problem with you!”

“Ditto.”

Scar paused, quiet enough that Cub could hear the kitten in his lap sucking the last dregs of milk from its bottle. “You don’t really mean that though, do you?”

Cub rolled his eyes. “With you being what you are, I never wouldn’t have guessed you to be sensitive.”

“Well I’m just saying, you having a fundamental problem with me would basically be the same as you having a fundamental problem with yourself, so.. checkmate!” Scar released the kitten he was feeding in favor for the next in line, and only noticed Cub craning his neck to Look at him belatedly. Scar’s whole expression dropped, a clear sign he’d gotten the memo, so Cub turned back around.

“Noooo! Cub! Noooooooo!” Suddenly there were a lot more kittens being piled on Cub’s side, crawling all over the place, which, to Scar’s credit, was mildly delightful. “Cub, you’ve always had this grand capacity to care about other people, and it’s a lovely look on you, really, but it makes you so, so sad!”

Cub felt Scar’s hand on his shoulder, and the touch was not unwelcome, but sometimes Cub wondered if this was only a result of their connection. Would he still crave Scar so wholly if he had never descended those stairs?

“It’s a curse, isn’t it. To be human. I wish I could take it away from you, but that’s life, isn’t it.. It’s been a rough couple months, I know, but my hope is that it’ll only be a few more before you’re raring to go again, right? I mean, retirement is an option as well, and maybe you’d thrive away from the action, but in my experience.. Well, you all don’t do so well. Try as I might, humans are just so temporary. I’d just hate to lose you like this. Maybe I’m speaking too soon- concussions are just nasty business! I’ve seen far too many never bounce back. You’ve got alright resistance to going stir crazy though, you might be alright.”

“That’s not what’s bothering me.” Cub couldn’t help but interrupt before he went on and on, he didn’t care, and he didn’t need Scar pretending he did either. “Why- I want to know what you are. What you’re doing here, where you come from. I want to go there.”

Scar was quiet, and Cub could feel the gears in his mind churning, wondering just how many times he could dance around this topic before he finally answered the damn questions.

“I don’t understand your fixation on specific, concrete, concepts. It’s a human impulse, I understand, but you have no need to hold on to it. You have blood to drink and skin to tear, your most important needs are met.”

“Where do you come from?”

“This has always been my home.”

“What are you!?”

Over Cub’s shoulder, he saw the shadow of a cocked head, “I’m Scar.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I’ve always been Scar. I don’t know what else to say. There are other scars, I know that to be true, but they are not me. A symptom of life.”

“If you actually cared, then why’d you let me break myself when you knew I’d escape. I hurt myself, when you could have just told me you wanted me to go to Mumbo’s fucking house and I would have done it. For you. Instead you fucked with my head. You made me go under the guise I had a choice.”

“Ah.” Scar considered Cub for a long moment, eyes boring into his back. Cub said nothing, only curling tighter around his kitten. “Well, I didn’t want you to gallivant off on my behalf. I wanted you to go on yours. It’s no fun being a puppet master, Cub, and you’re not a goon. I can be a guiding thought, but I don’t control where you go with it. Part of the appeal is watching what happens. So no, I did not know you would break your wrist to slip the chain. But I didn’t reinforce the locks on the door. And I did hope you’d act. I did not have to steer you very far, if it’s any reassurance. Just a few nights in your head, and your subconscious did the rest. You may have even gotten there alone with time, but I’m tired of waiting. Aren’t you? Besides, the worst of this break should heal in line with your concussions, you haven’t been set back.”

Scar did not hide himself, he never did, not even when Cub was waiting for him to deny what he’d done, poised to snap on his silver tongue and rip it clean off. Scar did not feel shame, or at the very least, Cub didn’t think so. He had less of a semblance of right and wrong and more of a feel for whether or not the thing he was planning on doing was going to piss all his friends off, which, had no impact on Scar’s decision making, only how he reacted to the clapback.

It still. Hurt. Somehow, after eight years of this, it still hurt.

“What’s your endgame. With Mumbo. How do you get your way.”

Scar readjusted, the chair creaking as he leaned back. As far as Scar was concerned, Cub’s outburst was over. The resistance was dealt with. Maybe he was right, too; it’s not like Cub was going to act against him, even now. Especially now.

Scar answered civilly.

“Mumbo is more put together than most. His anchor keeps a short leash, but that’s not necessarily the worst case. Mumbo is deprived. He takes what he wants despite outside influence, which is very good, but whatever charm is keeping him shackled is the biggest problem. That’s not an easy spell to upkeep mind you, and that Grian is weak. He’s tired. Doubt I’d even have to kill the body to break it, I can’t see how Grian has enough energy to maintain himself and control Mumbo as it is- but I don’t want to.”

Scar paused, waiting for input, validation. Cub gave him nothing.

“I want Mumbo to do it! Obviously! I want them both in the ring, and I want Mumbo to rip Grian’s head off his shoulders.” Scar sighed, long and forlorn, “Fuck, he’d have to really snap though, wouldn’t he. I mean, I could push anyone to the brink of madness and let them topple off the edge themselves, but I don’t know if I’m looking to house a berserker right now. Lately, I’ve really been enjoying the company of friends! But I’m not married to any happy ending. Personally, I’d fly to the sun and back to get my claws in that prude. We’ll see.”

“Maybe I want your claws in me instead.” Cub couldn’t help but lift his head, Scar’s eyes meeting his, piercing and smug.

“Can’t stand to hear me yapping so much about anyone else, hm? I see you.”

“You owe me this.”

Scar snorted a short laugh, lurching forward in the next movement, grabbing Cub’s cheek and chin and wrenching his neck painfully to one side. “Someone’s getting a little ahead of himself, isn’t he. I own you. Now I’m going to finish up with these cats, and we can get a move on.”

///

The water was beautiful and endless, dark and blue and infinitely peaceful. Sometimes Grian saw coral reefs, endless fish and color, sometimes he saw orcas or dolphins, sometimes he swam with penguins, blinded by schools of silver fish. He never felt scared here, even when his movements were sluggish, or he couldn’t quite see. He remembered being frustrated, absolutely, but never scared.

It was a little disconcerting when with each passing breath, Grian took in less air. It wasn’t quite noticeable at first, but there was a point where his lungs just weren’t quite full, where the oxygen wasn’t being stolen, just crushed away, little by little. Grian had never drowned before. He pondered that as he floated here, suspended in endless blue. He didn’t particularly want to. He still wasn’t afraid.

Not until he opened his mouth, and the water forced its way in.

Grian gagged, jerking violently into its force when he couldn’t go backward, he couldn’t escape, his eyes shot open, face to face with a looming, dark silhouette. Grian coughed and hacked as the force withdrew, he could have thrown up and wouldn’t have known, spittle and drool coating the hand that clamped over his mouth.

“Shh, shhh, you’re fine. You’re fine, you’re fine, Gri, take a moment won’t you? Breathe. Just breathe.”

Grian tried to scream, but the pressure on his chest was too much, the grip over his mouth too tight. He thrashed, and was not nearly strong enough. Too tired, too disoriented, too weak. This was it. Everything he’d worked for; over.

“Maybe this was my fault..” Scar mused, Grian recognized the thing above him now, his terror only multiplying, “I was just trying to see if I could spot you down there, y’know, I’ve never seen one of you inside your host until I cut you open, and, well, there’s only so many holes you could be hiding! Please calm down, you’re hurting my feelings.”

He hated the whimper that ripped through his sore throat, as well as the pain that followed. Scar’s shape was coming into clearer form as Grian’s eyes adjusted to the dark, strong, calm, and unworried. Mumbo was sleeping in the room across the hall. Had he heard? Grian wished he was here, he needed someone, anyone to take this away. Scar did not move. He never looked away, his attention wholly captured by Grian’s utter terror.

“Can I trust you to be quiet, now? I’d like to let you go, but I don’t want anyone walking in on us, right? You don’t need Mumbo to run to your aid, only for him to find an empty room. Gosh, he’d think you’re crazy!” Scar let him sit with that for a moment, then loosened his grip, a test, before letting Grian’s face go completely.

Grian wiped his mouth. Scar smiled, hard to see, but there, perfectly innocent. How was it he managed to look so kind?

“You are not welcome in this house. You- You stay away. There is nothing for you here.”

“You know, I just don’t agree!” Scar mused, his exclamation whispered. He rocked on Grian’s chest, but stopped when Grian wheezed, as if that had been unintentional. “Such a big bark for someone your size. Does it make you feel better? Like you have more control?”

“I know what you want. Taunt me all you like, but I won’t just roll over and let you take it.”

“I’d hope not!” Scar unfolded his legs, nearly kicking Grian in the face as he rolled off his chest, settling instead beside him and stretching in an exaggerated yawn. “But I think I could really surprise you, y’know. I don’t want you to be so scared, not when we’re just talking, hanging out. I’ve had a thousand Mumbos over my time, and I’ll have a thousand more. You, on the other hand.. Now if we’re talking about things I want..”

“I have terms. What are yours.”

Scar blinked, sitting up as if Grian had zapped him. “What? Seriously?”

“What are your terms.” Grian lurched up, throwing his weight over Scar to straddle his stomach, and pushing the rest of him back down.

“Oh my,” Scar wouldn’t stop blinking, like he wasn’t certain the man above him was real. “You know, this is not what I was talking about, but I’m not uninterested,” Scar hummed, his fingers beginning to trail Grian’s thighs until he slapped them away.

“Keep your fucking hands to yourself.”

Scar shrank away, but Grian did not miss the small, astonished smile. “Yes, sir.”

“Since you’re so unwilling to tell me what you want, here’s what I’m after. You leave us alone. Forever. And you can have me any way you like. Any time you like, but never here.”

“My, my, you’re expensive, aren’t you? From where I’m sitting, it looks like you want me far too much to be making those high demands.”

Grian scoffed, and he might’ve spat in Scar’s face if he wasn’t so sure Scar would like it, “Nothing would bring me greater pleasure than imagining you waddling home with blue balls and your tail between your legs, rest assured, I’d see more stars than anyone else could punch out of me.”

Scar closed his eyes, relaxing against Grian’s bed with his chin ever so slightly inclined, “You’re not what I expected.”

“Can’t say I feel any differently. You can fidget all you want, I’ll only think you more desperate. Do you really get so little?”

“Not much like you.”

“Then let’s make this exchange final, why don’t we?”

Scar rolled his shoulders, eyes narrowed. “I’ll give you a month. No Scar, no anything.”

“A year.”

“Two months.”

“Six months is my final offer; suggest anything else, and I’ll leave you where you’re sat.”

“You drive a devilish bargain.”

“I’d choose my next words very carefully if I were you.”

“Go on, then. Just like this. But for six months I don’t expect this to be the only time I’ll be seeing you.”

Grian grabbed Scar’s face, fingers landing hard like a slap, thumb curling around his chin. Grian imagined it sinking inside, just as Scar had done to him, and ripping off his entire jaw. “Be good, and I’ll come find you.”

“I expect you’ll have me screaming.”

“With Mumbo in the next room over, you’d better not.”

“You sure he wouldn’t like to watch?”

“Shut up.” Grian wrenched Scar’s head to the side, his fantasies swirling visions of Scar limp, neck broken and bruised. “You won’t speak unless you’re prompted, and any noise you make will be choked out of you, understand?”

“Please.”

Grian withdrew his hand from Scar’s face only to rid himself of his own shirt, but he quite enjoyed the marks left by his nails. Here’s to many more.

[maxdibert]

Honestly, I’m not talking about the Voldemort from the movies but the one from the books. I mean, it’s not a problem if his adult version falls into the stereotype of an irredeemable villain with cartoonish traits. These are novels aimed at children and teenagers, and Rowling is quite Manichean and simplistic with the vast majority of her characters.

The Voldemort we know through Harry and the Tom Riddle we see through memories seem like two completely different characters. Tom is interesting; Voldemort is not. I would have liked to know more about Tom, to see more of his life and how he got to where he was, but with Voldemort, not so much.

As I said in the original post from which this anonymous message was derived, where I was asked if I disliked or hated Voldemort, I said no. I don’t hate Voldemort, nor do I find him detestable, and that’s precisely why I consider him a rather flat villain—because, as a villain, I feel like he lacks the ability to make me truly think he’s done unforgivable things. I mean, manipulating a group of rich kids with a radical mindset and making them kiss his ass isn’t something I find particularly evil, honestly.

I’m not saying Voldemort wasn’t powerful, talented, or that he didn’t have an interesting life—I’m saying that as a villain, as the bad guy in the story, he’s boring and flat. I like villains that you hate because they’re so well-written that you think, “Damn, I love this character, but I also hate them and desperately want them to fail because they’re horrible.” That doesn’t happen with Voldemort. Voldemort is just evil, and that’s it, and he doesn’t even seem that evil to me.

And that’s it—this is just a personal opinion. It’s not even a character that I particularly dislike.

Voldemort is a simple and flat villain, but again, Harry Potter IS a kid’s story. There are characters who’ve been described as so horrible but if they were the main villains, the kids won’t really get it. The typical power hungry guy that wants to rule the world is the classic and best options to scare a nine year old

Girl, they asked me if I hated Voldemort, and I said no because I think he's a very flat villain and I just can't take him seriously. No one is complaining that he's a villain fitting for a young adult story—I don’t get your problem. Relax and have some chamomile tea.

[randomalistic]

Wait you guys are actually buying Disney products I thought it was a joke

(READ TAGS FOR FULL CONTEXT Sorry it’s long dies

[cheekblush]

made a mistake at work today and i just want to kms tbh </3

[cetoddle]

i really wish i knew what it was about me that makes me so unbearable. what am i doing wrong that i’m so undeserving of love

[supergraphicultramoderngirl]

aaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[calamitydaze]

long tag ramble below u have been warned

[laniidae-passerine]

I think some of you guys hate Izzy more than you ever liked Ed and no amount of “he’s my special babygirllll 💞 she’s just a sparkle princess you can’t hold her accountable for anything 🥰✨” posts are gonna be able to hide that

[cats-in-the-clouds]

it is unfortunate when i go to prayer and cry my eyes out and the only response i really hear is that i simply have to bear it. like usually i can get my emotions out and once they’re settled i hear a rational solution but it sucks when i don’t get the answer i want. i just have to keep waiting. like normally i hear something that gives me strength but wow apparently i’ve hit a new low

[iknowwhereyousleepatnight]

people begging me to do something to make a certain someone happy aren’t taking into account that i hate this person and i will revel in the knowledge that i kept them from getting the most perfect version of what they wanted. in fact i hope they mourn the loss of this for the rest of their life and die unhappy about it

[miodiodavinci]

(head in hands) man.

[yourheartinyourmouth]

seriously can we talk about how fucked up it is that someone told my husband to divorce me just bc i am disabled and can’t power through incredible misery like NTs apparently can

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

.

[phoe-ix]

“are you okay?” “You alright?” “Do you need a break?”

Tf you think?