#i've heard there is also a fifth new emotion...

[cartoonnonsensegirl]

It's such a shame that the Disney Infinity games ceased production...

Mainly it's because one of the movies you could play through was Inside Out, and they had figures for all five emotions. So if the Disney Infinity games continued, and with the release of Inside Out 2, they could have made four more figures to use in-game for the four new emotions.

[satansbiggestkinnie]

PLEASE TELL ME ABOUT BARBMON IVE ONLY EVER HEARD OF BARBATOS X SIMEON

DIDIEIRJ

OKAY SO

THIS ISN'T EVERYTHING

BECAUSE THEY MEAN EVERYTHING TO ME

BUT BECAUSE THE APPEAL IS

They're opposites!!

Barbatos would fluster that mf so hard!!

Barbatos would scare anyone who calls Mammon a scum^^

Mammon literally fucking thinks Barbatos has a secret chamber where he tortures people like that's so fucking funny..

Imagine they're cuddling and Barbatos goes: "Do you still think I have a torture chamber? :)" and Mammon's just like: "..." "Mammon." "..."

Imagine Mammon does something stupid and Barbatos is so tired but Mammon nuzzles into his chest begrudgingly and Barbs is just ":0 :))"

LIKE STUPID GRIN AND EVERYTHING

Ohhh

Or

Or

OR

One day Mammon says something funny and Barbatos laughs out loud and Mammon just falls in love for the fifth time this week

Also think about how needy Mammon is? And how busy Barbs is?

YOU JUST KNOW HE WOULD CLING ONTO HIM

HE MIGHT EVEN HELP HIM WITH WORK JUST TO SPEND TIME WITH HIM

Stupid tsundere/aff

Imagine how his brothers feel abt this too? Lucifer is happy, but yk

That mf is still protective

Cause that's his baby bro

OH

SPEAKING OF HIS BROTHERS

Barbatos would 100% stand up for him!!

And Imagine Barbatos slowly getting closer to Mammon and he finds out that woahhh he's actually super emotional intelligent and cool and funny..

And Dia's just watching,sipping his tea,eyes wide but grinning

"Lucifer why don't they-"

"No."

Or Barbatos being tired while Mammon puts his head on his lap while Barbatos's tail subconsciously grabs his waist and even tho Mammon's a tsundere he grins so hand while Barbatos looks down at him and that other mf falls in love

Or think about nightbringer?

I've just started playing so idk how to describe their dynamic well-

BUT THAT'S HIS FALLEN ANGEL 🔥🔥🔥

"Hey,Barbatos,why are you extra nice to Mammon?"

"Oh,you know. Just being nice to him becaus he's new :)"

"Mammon stop talking to the shady butler. You don't know what the demon might do."

"BUT HE'S CUTE??"

Works for angel! Mammon au too^^

And yk how Luke is sort of close to both of them?

"Barbatos,why does Mammon call you baby girl?"

"Woops, the sprikles slipped!!"

Or dancing in balls

Secretly making out in the kitchen under the guise of being helpful

IN CONCLUSION:

THEY ARE MY LIFELINE.

Edit: Forget "OH NO THAT'S MY IDIOT-"

[lynetianya]

A Week of Longing [ Karina X Reader ]

Karina found herself engulfed in a whirlwind of emotions as Y/N, her beloved partner, had to leave town for a week due to work commitments.

GENRE : Fluff, Smut

TYPE : One Shot

Karina, also known as Yu Ji-Min, was a prominent figure under the SM Entertainment label, serving as both the leader and member of the famous girl group idol, AESPA. Karina found herself engulfed in a whirlwind of emotions as Y/N, her beloved partner, had to leave town for a week due to work commitments.

In contrast, Y/N was a non-celebrity, Y/N is a young Superintendent General in the Korean police force. This title marked one of the highest ranks within the police hierarchy. Their relationship was a well-kept secret, known only to the members of AESPA and SM Entertainment.

Y/N and Karina Backstory

Y/N's assignment required Y/N to be out of town for an entire week. Y/N was scheduled to conduct seminars and training sessions for new police recruits, which would leave Y/N with no access to internet or communication. When Y/N broke the news to Karina, the idol couldn't help but feel a profound sense of sadness and longing. However, being a compassionate partner, Karina understood the importance of Y/N's work and promised not to burden her during this busy week.

The first day after Y/N's departure, Karina managed to distract herself with her idol duties. She performed on stage, wearing her charismatic and responsible persona, a stark contrast to her inner longing for Y/N.

On the second day, Karina keep listening to her favorite song, "Savior" by Lee Hi. This song always played when she missed Y/N. As she sang along to the lyrics, Winter, Giselle, and Ningning, her fellow AESPA members, couldn't help but notice her melancholic state. They understood that Karina was yearning for Y/N, as Y/N often called during busy times, checking up on her during AESPA's promotions.

By the third day, Karina still had received no communication from Y/N, worsening her mood. Karina's concentration waned. She found it challenging to focus on her work, often drifting into thought. Her usually cheerful demeanor had turned sensitive, a stark departure from her usual self. Giselle finally mustered the courage to ask if everything was alright, and Karina, not wanting to worry her friends, reassured them that she was fine.

On the fifth day, Karina still hadn't received any word from Y/N, and her mood remained low.

By the sixth day, Karina couldn't take it anymore. She longed for Y/N's presence, and her heart ached. She cried alone in her room, calling out Y/N's name repeatedly. She missed Y/N's smile, their conversations, her soothing voice, the way she looked at her, her warm embrace, and her mere existence. Karina cried for a long time, leaving her fellow members worried and unable to console her.

In the midst of her sobs, Karina suddenly heard her phone ringing. She picked it up and was surprised to see Y/N's name on the caller ID once again. Y/N had found a spot with internet access and decided to video call after seeing Karina's earlier message expressing her longing.

Y/N greeted Karina with concern in her eyes and, upon seeing Karina in tears, panicked and immediately asked what was wrong. Karina, unable to contain her emotions any longer, confessed how much she missed Y/N.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't want to make you worry, but I just can't help it. I miss you so much. These days without you have been incredibly hard." She explained that her tears were a testament to her longing.

"I know, love. I've been missing you every moment too. But I promise, I'll be back with you soon."

"Do you really mean it?"

"Absolutely. I won't go anywhere else. I'll come straight to you." Y/N did everything in her power to comfort Karina, promising that she would rush to her side as soon as her training was over. She vowed to fulfill all of Karina's wishes upon her return.

Y/N's efforts eventually succeeded in calming Karina's tears.

"You know what? Even when you're crying, you're still stunning." say Y/N teasing karina

"You're such a charmer." karina laught and blushing after hearing that.

"I'm serious, Karina. I love you, no matter what."

"I love you too, Y/N."

Karina finally smiled again, and her fellow members, Winter, Giselle, and Ningning, who had been eavesdropping on their conversation, were delighted and envious of the couple's intimacy.

"Did you hear that, guys? They're so sweet together." winter whispered to the other 2 members.

"I'm honestly a little envious. They're deeply in love." say giselle nodding.

"Karina unnie deserves all the happiness in the world." Ningning grinned broadly at Karina.

"Hey, you three, quit snooping!"

On the final day, Karina's mood returned to normal as she resumed her idol activities. She spent the evening alone in the dorm, as her fellow members were busy with their own schedules.

Suddenly, the dorm's doorbell rang, and Karina, thinking her fellow members had returned, opened the door to find someone unexpected. It was Y/N, still dressed in her police uniform, looking handsome as ever. Karina immediately enveloped Y/N in a tight embrace, showering Y/N with kisses on her forehead, cheeks, and lips.

Y/N, aware of Karina's longing, simply accepted her clinginess with a smile. She explained that she had come directly to Karina after finishing her training. Karina, worried that Y/N must be exhausted, insisted on pampering her and made Y/N promise to rest in her dorm.

Y/N, who had vowed to fulfill all of Karina's wishes, happily complied. That night, they ate, watched TV, and slept together. Karina didn't let go of Y/N even for a moment, holding her tightly. She showered Y/N with affection, showering Y/N with kisses and repeatedly expressing her love.

As the night deepens, Karina held Y/N close, their bodies pressed against each other, their eyes locked.

Karina couldn't help but think about how attractive Y/N looked in her police uniform. As their eyes met, an undeniable chemistry sparked between them. Without even realizing it, Karina leaned in and kissed Y/N. Their lips met, and they shared a passionate, lingering kiss, their breaths growing heavier with each passing moment.

The kiss deepened, becoming more fervent, as Karina couldn't get enough of Y/N's taste. Their tongues danced in a sensual, intimate embrace, and the world around them faded away. In that moment, it was just Karina and Y/N, lost in their love and desire for each other.

They broke the kiss only when they needed to catch their breath. Panting and flushed, they gazed into each other's eyes, their hearts pounding in rhythm. Y/N's lips curved into a mischievous smile as she whispered, "You're so irresistible, miss Yu."

Karina blushed but couldn't help but grin in response. "You're not so bad yourself, Officer Y/N." She playfully tugged at Y/N's uniform, teasing her.

Karina and Y/N continued to explore their deep connection. Their kisses grew more fervent, their hands caressing each other with a burning desire that had built up over the past week. It was a reunion neither of them had anticipated but had yearned for with every fiber of their beings.

Their clothes, still a barrier between their heated bodies, became a hindrance. Y/N, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, slowly began to undress Karina, his fingers tracing the contours of her body. Karina's heart raced as Y/N's lips left a trail of fiery kisses along her neck, causing her to gasp in pleasure.

"Uhh Y/N~" she whispered, her voice heavy with desire.

Y/N responded with a low growl, his lips finding hers once more. Their tongues danced in a passionate tango as their bodies pressed closer together. Karina felt a delicious ache between her legs, a need that only Y/N could satisfy.

With a sudden burst of urgency, Y/N lifted Karina into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. Their lips never parted, their kisses becoming increasingly desperate as they tumbled onto the bed.

"Jimin..." Y/N murmured against her lips, "I love you."

Her response was a breathless moan as Y/N's hand found its way to the waistband of her panties, slowly teasing and tormenting her until she was writhing beneath him.

Their lovemaking was a fiery crescendo of desire and longing, each thrust bringing them closer to the edge. When they finally reached their peak, it was with a shared cry of release, their bodies trembling with the intensity of their passion.

As they lay entwined in each other's arms, their breathing slowly returning to normal, Karina and Y/N exchanged tender kisses and sweet whispers of affection.

"I missed you so much," Karina murmured, her fingers tracing patterns on Y/N's chest.

Y/N kissed the top of her head, holding her even closer. "I missed you too, more than words can express. I promise I'll never be away for so long again."

Karina tilted her head up to look into Y/N's eyes, her heart filled with love. "I don't know what I would do without you, Y/N. You complete me in every way."

Y/N smiled, his thumb brushing over her cheek. "And you, Karina, you make my life brighter and more beautiful every day. I love you more than anything in this world."

They sealed their declarations of love with a sweet kiss, savoring the taste of each other's lips.

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Karina stirred in Y/N's arms, her eyes fluttering open. She smiled as she realized Y/N was still beside her, his steady heartbeat beneath her ear.

"Good morning," Y/N whispered, his lips brushing against her forehead.

Karina snuggled closer, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. "Morning, Y/N. I can't believe you're here with me."

Y/N kissed her temple. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

They lay in contented silence for a while, simply reveling in each other's presence. But eventually, the responsibilities of the day called them back to reality.

"I should get dressed and head back to the station," Y/N said regretfully.

Karina pouted, not wanting to let him go. "Do you have to? but you promise me..."

Y/N chuckled. "As much as I'd love to stay in bed with you all day, duty calls. I'll just be gone for a moment and will be back in an hour, okay?"

Reluctantly, they got out of bed and began to dress. Karina watched Y/N with admiration as he buttoned up his police uniform, every movement exuding confidence and strength.

Y/N noticed her gaze and smirked. "Like what you see?"

Karina blushed and nodded. "You look amazing in that uniform."

He leaned in and kissed her softly. "You make me feel amazing."

After a quick breakfast together, Y/N prepared to leave. Karina walked him to the door, holding onto his hand as long as she could.

"Promise me you'll come back soon," she said, her eyes pleading.

Y/N smiled warmly. "I promise, love. I'll be back before you know it."

With a final kiss and a lingering embrace, Y/N reluctantly left, heading back to his duties as a police officer. Karina watched him go, her heart filled with love and longing.

Part 3

My Masterlist

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hello hello! I was wondering if you had any winged aus tucked away? the latest post I could find (though goodness knows tumblr’s search feature is iffy) was from 2019 and I was curious about an updated list if it isn’t too much trouble!

Hey Lovely!

You are correct, it's been a LONG time since I've put a new list together... I don't have any new personal recs (been a LONG time since I've read them), so what I'm going to do is do a tag search on my MFL list and put together a nice fresh list of fics suggested to me by you guys! Please note that I have NOT read any of the fics on this list so I'm probably wrong somewhere, LOL. They're not ALL winglock, for sure, but if anyone has anything relevant that they can add to this list, please do! Enjoy!

WINGLOCK / ANGELS / DEMONS Pt. 2 (MFLs)

See also:

Winglock / Angels / Demons (Updated Apr 2022)

Sherlock x  Good Omens Crossovers (Updated Apr 2022)

The Detective and the Demon by oreganotea (G, 2,389 w., 1 Ch. || Supernatural Elements || Pre-Slash, Urban Fantasy, Demons, Humour, Friendship) – “Every demon on record is described as either monstrously terrifying or breathtakingly beautiful,” Sherlock says. “I have never heard of a demon with a forgettable face and a propensity for ugly jumpers.” The demon looks down at his jumper. Okay, so it might not be the most flattering article of clothing in the world, but it sure looks a hell of a lot more comfortable than Sherlock’s two-sizes-too-small shirt.

The Babadook by CatieBrie (T, 6,886 w., 1 Ch. || Babadook Fusion || Post-TRF, Horror, Demonic Possession, Violence, Halloween, Grief, Angst with Happy Ending) – “A children’s book,” John mutters as he flips it open. The pages are scrawled with beautiful charcoal lines and thick black ink. The cover, bright red, edges the open pages and something tugs at the back of John’s brain. It’s a familiar feeling, black and tarrish and thick in his thoughts. He shakes it off and picks the book up off his bed, turning so that he can sit on the edge and spread the book out across his knees. If it’s in a word or it’s in a look, you can’t get rid of the Babadook. He turns the page, ignoring the pressure building beneath his chest. There’s a closet on one page; paper doors meant to be opened by the reader flutter as John reads the text on the other page.

In The Arms Of The Angel by Watermelonsmellinfellon (M, 8,585 w., 3 Ch. || Fallen Angel AU || Friendship, Angels/Wings, BAMF John, Trust, Fluff, Romance, Eventual Happy Ending) – The human population possesses the ability to grow feathers from their spines, but less than even five million at a time ever actually grow any. A feather for a life. Every life saved, earned a feather. The feathers would overlap each other, until there was finally enough to create a wing and if some were lucky, two wings.

The Soldier And The Demon by LipstickDaddy (G, 8,998 w., 6 Ch. || Victorian / Demon AU || Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Soldier John, Demon Sherlock, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Protective John, Protective Sherlock, Happy Ending) – Johnlock/Kuroshitsuji AU - 1879. Captain John H Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers is dying from a near-fatal gunshot wound in the Kandahar desert; until a demon saves his life. There’s a catch, though; one day, his saviour will eat his soul.

You Don't Need Wings to Fly by Laiquilasse (T, 11,326 w., 11 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Bullying, Angels, Suicidal Ideation, Christmas) – John, an angel, is sent from Heaven to help a desperate Sherlock Holmes by showing him what life would have been like if he had never existed.

Tattered by SrebrnaFH (M, 15,857 w., 6 Ch. || Winglock || Family, Childhood, Society, Abuse, Electricity, Hurt John / Sherlock, Protective John, No Smut, Bullying, Sudden Relationship Change) – John visits Baker Street without any warning and gets an eyeful.

On Feathers and Bacon Sandwiches by Kryptaria(T, 21,092 w., 8 Ch. || Winglock AU || Demon John, Asexual Sherlock) – No one has ever stayed with Sherlock longer than a month. At least, no human. Fortunately, John Watson isn't about to let the little things - like biohazardous experiments and the constant threat of danger - get in the way of his friendship with a very special, very brilliant man like Sherlock Holmes. Part 1 of Feathers 'verse

The 13th Book by meet_me_in_samarra (T, 24,491 w., 13 Ch. || Magical Realism Winglock AU || Enemies to Friends, Friendship, Witty Banter, Interspecies Bromance, Demon Sherlock) – Summoning a demon was actually quite simple if you could avoid getting killed in the process. Therefore, only the powerful, the desperate or the stupid would attempt it. John Watson was likely the first, definitely the second but hopefully not one of the third kind.

This Is Family by SaraStarchild (T, 39,840 w., 16 Ch. || Hereditary AU || Psychological Horror, Body Horror, Demonic Possession, POV Third Person Limited, Protective Mycroft, Cults, Mycroft Whump, Sherlock Whump, Major Character Death, Graphic Violence, Retelling) – When the Holmes family's secretive mother and matriarch, Ellen Holmes, passes away, the family she leaves behind – father Martin, sons Mycroft and Sherlock, and daughter Eurus – begins to unravel cryptic and increasingly terrifying secrets about their ancestry. The more they discover, the more they find themselves trying to outrun the sinister fate they seem to have inherited. This is, pretty much, a word-for-word retelling of the 2018 Ari Aster film, Hereditary. Part 1 of Sherlock Halloween Stories

Though the brightest fell by BeMyGoldfish (M, 41,243 w., 7 Ch. || Celestial AU || Post THoB, Soulmates, Guardian Angels, Demons, Mystrade, Background Johnlock) –  In his office, Mycroft (the Archangel) tries to recruit Greg (the ‘ex-angel’ mortal) on a celestial mission to save Sherlock from what he wants most. "This is some elaborate joke cooked up by your brother as revenge for me not asking him to help on the Islington Exsanguinations, isn't it? How did he get you in on it, Mycroft? Did he hide your trouser press? Or threaten to expose your secret ciggie habit to your mum? This isn't funny. It's weird and obscure, but it is not funny.”

Trapped by Gem_Gem & harrylee94 (M, 41,311 w., 3 Ch. || Demon John AU || Demon John, Mild Gore, POV Sherlock, Mild Homophobic Language, Kiss, Bonding) – During his most recent case, Sherlock finds himself in the hands of the very people he had been trying to pursue. This mistake lands him in a cell, already occupied by a strange man who calls himself John. But who is John? And why does he look so... hungry? Part 3 of the Bonded by Words Stories series

Murderous Imprint by MojoFlower (E, 52,634 w., 24 Ch. || Winglock || Organ Theft, Imprinting, First Kiss / Time, Whump, Torture, Blow Jobs, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Case Fic, Magical Realism) – Sherlock should be focusing on the series of brutal vivisections Lestrade has brought to him. Instead he's distracted by a most amazing and unexpected experimental opportunity from the basement apartment of 221C. Will he figure out the one in time to stop the other? And does he need help in order to do it? Part 1 of the Hatch series

Not English But Angels by orphan_account (E, 203,251 w., 15 Ch. || Twisted Canon, Slow Burn, First Kiss/Time, Minor Character Death) – A sort-of canon, sort-of AU fic in which I twist and supplement canon to weave it into a new story in which Sherlock and John come from different worlds and nothing is quite what it seems.

WORKS IN PROGRESS

The Posthumous Game by S_IRIS (E, 58,695+ w., 12/19 Ch. || WiP || Supernatural Elements AU || S4 Fix It, Crack, Humour, Fluff, Demonic Possession, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss/Time, Sherlock Whump, Hurt Comfort, Hallucinations) – A Season 4 fix-it fic where Jim Moriarty really is dead but comes back as a demon to haunt Sherlock. The only problem is Jim is a total newbie at demonic possession so he tries to make-do and ends up making Johnlock happen. Only, it doesn’t happen the way you’d think.

Hellfire by HarleysCompass (E, 66,660+ w., 19/? Ch. || WiP || Fallen Angel AU || Biblical References, BAMF John, Sexual Content, Fallen Angel John) – In 1880 Dr. John H. Watson dies on foreign soil. The next thing he knows he's wandering the planes of Heaven. After betraying God, John is cast out, employed by the devil, and protecting a sociopath of a human with a penchant for trouble and pissing off Angels. 

[theonethatyaks93]

HAPPY 30TH BIRTHDAY ANIMANIACS!!!!!

I just want to say how truly amazed I am with this show. There are very few words that can describe it. I put a few in the picture seen above, but this is barely anything compared to everything I've said. Animaniacs has changed my life in ways that many shows can only dream of. And I'm thrilled to be here today to celebrate its legacy.

I wasn't born in the 90's. I didn't grow up with this show like I know a ton of people did. I was exposed to it, mainly through the Hub Network ads for reruns, the once-in-a-while YouTube video reference, and even in fifth grade when my teacher showed us a clip of "Wakko's America" for our state capital test (which by the way I passed). I didn't acknowledge this show's presence, at least until 2020. That was a rough year, not only for me, but for everyone. Online school sucked. I couldn't see my friends. I was always crying myself to sleep and staying up late just watching videos to wash away my sadness and hurting. It was hell. I didn't have any comfort. At the absolute worst of times around October, I saw that one of my favorite channels posted a video on the trailer for the reboot of a show called Animaniacs. I was curious, mostly since I'd never heard about it before (well, I thought I hadn't). But the way the characters looked and the amount of people talking about it got me interested enough to click on the video. I listened to the reviewer's thoughts, not really understanding much, yet still being enticed to continue. I watched the actual trailer afterwards and...the rest is history.

I instantly fell in love. I watched the trailer on repeat before the reboot's release, laughing and singing along. I researched the show more and discovered a ton of voice actors I knew. I loved the characters, especially Yakko, I listened to the songs, I watched the interviews, and I talked about it constantly to my family and friends. While I didn't have Hulu, I still kept up with the reboot quite heavily. For Christmas, I got my first piece of merch, a T-shirt, and I got the first 25 episodes of the original show. I watched them on repeat with my sister and we both laughed, sang, and danced around whenever the show came on. After taking a fandom break, I got back into the show in 2021, which came with a new appreciation for Pinky and The Brain and fanfiction. Around this time, I was finally able to watch the reboot and entire original series since I got Hulu. My merchandise collection expanded, my knowledge of the show grew exponentially, and my desire to contribute to the fandom was intense. Not much has changed since then. Granted my merchandise collection is bigger, I can do impressions of a few characters, I met some of the voice actors, I joined the community on Tumblr, I actually wrote some fanfiction, and I've seen so many Animaniacs episodes now that it'll make your head spin. I'm so proud to be a super fan.

My appreciation and adoration for the Animaniacs franchise knows no bounds. It changed my life in amazing ways. And I can't believe its thirty years old today. I'm struggling to keep my emotions in right now, it's all so surreal. So, to all my followers I encourage you to give this show all your love today. It deserves it. Thank you Animaniacs. Thank you so much for everything you've done. You have made me a better individual and have fueled my love of animation for nearly three years. I hope you continue to inspire many more like me to laugh, be silly, and sing "Yakko's World" to pass a geography test. Animaniacs is the greatest show of all time, and I'll never stop saying that. (Ps. this isn't the last Animaniacs Anniversary related post I'm making! The next one will be long! And I'll also be showcasing my Animaniacs merch collection! Stay tuned!) Goodnight Everybody!!

[melishade]

This is more of a PSA announcement if anything. A warning of people you should DNI. Like at all! Because this situation is getting so fucking ridiculous the longer I learn about this shit.

There was this Youtuber that I followed: Lily Orchard. I used to follow her for years. I started following her...between the fourth and fifth season of My Little Pony Gen 4. So since I was in high school. I followed her for at least a decade. I looked up to her and her work for years and thought she was a good role model.

I was wrong.

I've heard rumors about some of the accusations and chose to ignore it when I was younger, thinking it was slander. But it wasn't true. I had actually found out about all the shit she's done just a few months ago from @asunnycoffee and it is absolutely horrid. I mean there's:

Racism Sexism Homophobia Transphobia Brownfacing Lying Support of slavery through her written fanfics Grooming of her fans (BTW she's thirty) Stalking Harassment Hard Implications of Incest in her work Manipulations Gaslighting Emotional abuse Mental Abuse Complete and utter narcissism of this bitch. And so much more that I'm certain one of it could violate some international law.

She's like a fake liberal Catilyn Jenner. But as far as I know, Jenner didn't fucking molest her sister. Because that's exactly what Lily Orchard did to @pleasetiemyshoe AKA Courtney Orchard.

I can't believe I actually looked up to her I feel so fucking sick

Now because I am new to this and really just an outsider perspective learning about this, I'm going to botch any and all explanations of this in detail. Luckily there is a masterpost of all the shit that Lily Orchard has done in detail. https://www.tumblr.com/lily-orchard-gossip-blog/692978295298572288/a-quick-summary-of-lily-orchard?source=share

And there are a bunch of trigger warnings to this and it will be in the tags if you cannot handle it. That is fine to avoid.

But instead of Lily, ya know, owning up to her mistakes and possibly explaining her side of the story, she's done nothing but double down and accuse everyone that come out to expose her for her shit behavior as 'stalkers', 'TERFs', 'Racists' (even though she's fucking brownfacing. Which by the way, fuck her. I already deal with blackfacing enough as it is and she wants to appropriate a culture for views. GOD WHY DID I LOOK UP TO HER WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!) She will slander anyone that doesn't agree with her and do everything in her power to destroy them. And she will use her fanbase to do so. If the fans so much as harass, slander, misgender, and tell people to off themselves that have critiqued Lily in the past, she does nothing. She lets this shit happen. And usually when a creator or a person of power doesn't say anything to stop their fans from doing heinous actions, it's basically giving permission to the people to fucking do it. A perfect example of this is how Trump weaponized his own people to attack the US Capitol.

And it's not just Orchard. It's also her wife Mikaila Orchard, and a former ex now friend, Ginger. Both have followed Orchard's behavior, refused to call her out on anything and have also actively used their platforms to harass people that Orchard deems as an enemy.

And I wish I was fucking joking about any and all of this fucking nonsense, and if I'm wrong I would take it all back! But there are so many people who've come out against her and explained how much of a shit person she is including:

@as8bakwthesage (BTW check out their art it is lovely. And Sage I'm on a transformers forum if you want to join. We have fun.)

@britts-galaxy-brain

@asunnycoffee (A sweet delight. Who's 18, BTW! So Orchard is not above harassing fucking teenagers! And she's not above grooming them either!)

@opinated-user

@pleasetiemyshoe (Her sister. She also posts pictures about cats. But the stuff she talk about with her sister gets really fucking intense. Proceed with caution.)

@glyphosatesolarize

@thetimelordbatgirl

@lily-orchard-gossip-blog

Lizzy Orchard (Which in summary, was Orchard former girlfriend. Orchard claimed Lizzy abused her when really it was the other way around. Lizzy was harassed and bullied off of tumblr and Orchard took her last name which is weird because why the hell would you take the last name of your abuser.

Blake (Lily threatened violence on Blake's fiancee)

Josh Scorcher (An MLP fan. He and Lily used to be friends and there was a fallout)

Patch (IDK if Patch is on tumblr or not)

Poppy and Zena

And that's from what I can remember! That's over ten people that is ringing out warning signs to avoid Orchard at all costs. If it was one person, I'd be skeptical. But 10?! 10! That should be enough to avoid her at all costs! Another perfect example of this situation is when 30 women came out against Cosby and said he SA'd them. Again, when it is multiple people telling different stories that come to the same conclusion, then it's not something that you can deny.

Orchard is a terrible, human being, and you need to avoid her at all costs, and Mikaila and Ginger. These are the names of the channels you should avoid (because sometimes she'll use other people to spy on accounts that critique her and make alt accounts herself to spy on others and make herself look better:

lily-orchard mikaila-orchard lily-orchard-fanart sucky-boi (an alt account) lexyr-kryo (not an alt of Orchard, but the user misgendered Sage and I don't take kindly to that) ginger-snap-talkin-nonsense (Gringer has been known to harass Sunny, who is 18) So block those accounts and follow the others that I mentioned above. Please boost this post as much as you can to help other people avoid them. Although there will be some heavy stuff in some of those accounts, so please proceed with caution. also there's evidence that she wrote an incest story called Stockholm

[resplendent-chungus]

Fanfic 20 questions! This seems really fun, thanks for tagging me @followerofmercy

1. How many fics do you have on AO3?

Twenty-six! Which I think is a bunch when not compared to insane people who right, say, a hundred twenty fics. Cough Mercy.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

179,826, though I will add since I got my start in fic writing quests on Sufficient Velocity, there's another 113.2K that's not on AO3.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

My tastes are as fickle as the wind. I am a wandering ronin writing whatever I feel like. I theoretically write RWBY but also haven't updated a RWBY fic since January. I thought I was done with Madoka fics but then I heard news about the movie and had no choice but to write Heartless. I've written 3 A Practical Guide To Evil fics over 5 years. Who fuckin knows with me?

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Breaking and Entering Your Heart (Madoka Magica) is, somehow, my most kudo'd fic of all time. I have no idea why. I don't think it's particularly good (not helped by the fact that I was like 16 when I wrote it). It's not even my favourite Madoka fic I wrote as a teenager!

Doka Don't You Know (Madoka Magica) is my favourite Madoka fic I wrote as a teenager. It's still kind of embarrassing for me to read back, but I do think I did good with it. The real embarrassing part is that it was inspired by me getting emotional listening to the Ninja Sex Party song of a similar name.

Drabble Roulette (Steven Universe) is sort of cheating, as it was a drabble collection I did with several friends, but nevertheless it's one of the most kudo'd fics I've worked on. We all did a short fic every week based on the same one-word prompt, and God we kicked ass.

I can almost hear the Hounds (RWBY) is definitely the one I'm most proud of. What if Ruby got turned into a Hound before V1? Well everyone would be sad, for one. It also holds the distinction of being the first time anyone's ever done a "Cast of [show] reacts!" thing to a fic I've read. Talk about an ego boost!

And my fifth-most kudo'd fic is... Actions, Consequences, and the Tragic Lack Thereof (Worm)? The edgy oneshot I did where a very well-adjusted Taylor uses Coil's power to blow off steam? Huh. Not either of my RWBY oneshots? Well I suppose I can't complain.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Not really. I try, but as I've said before responding to comments is my dump stat. I really do love everyone's comments, I'm sooo insanely bad at responding sdgsd

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

It depends on what qualifies as an angsty ending; most of my angsty fics have happy endings, with Heartless being the only one I've written to really contradict that. Blood, Blood, Gallons of the Stuff and Sometimes the only way out is as a carcass have the worst endings insofar as horrible fates, but I wouldn't really call them angst.

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably Trim and nothing else? It depends on how you define it, but I'd say that one.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not really, thankfully. I straight up can't remember anything of the sort lmao

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Boy, do I! Of the smut I've published, I'd say it's pretty varied? Some het, some gays, some ships and an OC or two... I've got the variety, baby.

10. Do you write crossovers? If so, what's the craziest one you've ever written?

Not really? I find they're usually more daydream material than hunker-down-and-write material, though sometimes I have no choice. I have a chapter or two of the most self-indulgent APGTE/RWBY crossover that I doubt I'd ever put out there on account of it having a target audience of exactly one. Craziest would probably be the Madoka Magica/Magical Girl Noir Quest crossover I wrote as a teenager. It's harder to get more self-indulgent than fanfiction of a fanfiction crossing it over with the source material sdgds

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I sort of vaguely remember this happening? I remember someone posting a really poorly written edgy SU fic that had the exact same premise as my slightly better written edgy SU fic and only updated after mine did.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know of, though if anyone wants to please feel free.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not really? The Drabble roulette is the closest I've come, and that was a bunch of individual shorties. Besides, I can't imagine I'd have a great time trying to fit my writing process with someone else (and I definitely don't think they'd have a good time trying to adjust to me lmao)

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

God that's tough. I'm not sure I can give a definitive answer here. I might have to say Madohomu or Midlink just because of how deeply they've altered my brain chemistry

15. What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Brother that is most of what I've written. I really want to get Tomorrow I'll be perfect and You waxen wing, you foolish thing done at some point, though I'm not sure I'm will. The Most Insane Girls On Remnant is a work so in progress that only one person knows it even exists, and if I could magic myself into fully writing one it would probably be that one.

16. What are your writing strengths?

If I could write an entire book of nothing but snarky narrators I would be a new york times bestseller by now. They are my bread and butter. Comedy in general, I guess, but that specifically.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Action scenes. Action scenes action scenes action scenes. It's not so much that I think I'm bad at them, more that they're just so hard for me. I could write a thousand words of most anything else before I write five hundred words of an action scene.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I don't super mind it when reading, but I can't imagine writing it. Maybe a word or two, but still.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I wrote down Madoka Magica at first, but now I'm realizing it was actually Warrior Cats, all the way back when I was a wee little child. I'm not sure if I deleted them or just changed ff.net accounts at some point, but I don't know where they are and I'm happy that way.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

I mean it's gotta be I can almost hear the Hounds. There's a lot of other things like (Aw Drat, Tomorrow I'll be Perfect, etc) but this one hold a special place in my heart. There's a reason I have chapter on pinned in my blog.

Damn that took me like three days to write. I shall pass the curse onto @golddragon387, of course, and perhaps @borkthemork to torment him

[foxoftheninetails]

Teehee.

Another late night post. I wrenched my back reaching for my phone charger, and now I think I might sleep on the couch so I dont exacerbate it.

So I'm watching the McElroy brothers play Super Mario World, have a heating pad pushing on my ouchies. And with Christmas coming up, lets do a teensy thought bubble.

This year has been absolutely crazy. A year ago I was negotiating a ridiculous raise at my last company, as everything fell apart around us because they had just demoted the obly other project manager. Meanwhile, my boss and the owner of the company was in South America because he doesn't like cold weather.

Now I'm unemployed, Kenna has a job, and I've spent most of the year playing video games and napping. No job prospects as of now, but who knows what this week holds.

We used our tax return money to fund a dream trip to Japan. We got a whole house to ourselves, finally got passports, registered for the train pass, and planned so many things.

We skipped the trip because I couldn't hold my anxiety in check after opening up the Pandora's box of emotional mess that is me. And neither of us regrets it. We haven't complained that we missed out. Other than the loss of money (almost the whole fucking trip sadly) were good with it.

Now onto my all time favorite subject. My friends.

This year, I reaffirmed my love for many old friends, and got closer with a few. I lost a couple to differences of opinions, and I just can't bring myself to be broken hearted. They have hate in their heart, I just can't. Finally, I met people who changed my whole world.

Last year, I got to attend a friends wedding and meet him for the first time, and I thought I was going to die. We had a wonderful time, and the warmth of the hugs I got changed me forever.

Earlier this year, I befriended my beloved Oat. I have a friend that I can bullshit with, who can somehow get me talling about the deepest stuff, who makes me feel heard and felt. She helped me with so much, including my mental health, relationship help, self confidence, and my streaming. Oat, I think you'll see this. I need you on my stream again soon, I miss you! Forehead kisses!

Then in August, while streaming some batshit crazy stuff (encouraged as always by Oat! < 3) I got raided. I figured cool, another Zelda streamer, maybe we can help each other out. Tch, to underestimate something so drastically. Not only did she inspire me to up my streaming game, Rachine collabs with me, has brought me tons of followers, workshops streams and tech issues with me (sometimes live on air) and most importantly, become one of my closest, dearest friends. She pushed me to play some of her favorite games, and brought me back to FFXIV. She encourages me and inspires me to try new things. (And yes, you're always right).

She also let me join her FC, and opened up a whole new world of friends. I have befriended some of the warmest, kindest people who went out of their way to make me feel welcome. They run dungeons, they answered questions, they carried my ass.

Finally, Jengo (who is not online other than streaming. Purest of us.) Who is part of Rachine's FC. She was the first one to essentially insist I run a dungeon with her, she made time for me to walk me through my combos, has mentored my climbing skills, answers more questions than anyone.

All of them also sit in VC with me when I'm having anxiety or breakdowns, support me when I doubt, encourage me. They are my family and I just...

Look, I know I dont shut up about them. This isn't a grab for brownie points, it's not attention. Its me workshopping how to express my deep love and gratitude to them without making them uncomfortable or laying it on too thick. Maybe they never read this, maybe they never have to put up with it for the fifth time this week. How do you properly express it to them? Telling someone you love them only gets me so far. Even with Kenna. After 17 years, saying I love you doesnt feel like the proper way to tell her shes my world.

As I regularly talk about, I am not a brief person. I am almost pathologically incapable of keeping any kind of explanation short. After a certain point, a 60 paragraph diatribe on how important someone is gets tired. I love my friends.

Its been an up and down year, but I have to say I wouldnt trade it for anything. I need those people in my life, because I am a gigantic baby and the alternative is I have internet access and no friends. That would be worse than what you have to read now.

To my friends: thank you. I love you. Happy holidays. Thank you.

[dojae-huh]

Honestly Huh-nim, I don’t know if Do is into feet himself. It is still something I want to see for myself, so I’m trying to see if this new DJJ content it will pop up somewhere. Kind of made it a mission for me to see if Do will mention feet in any content he is in. Also, if Jae is a feet guy I would think Do, who is his partner, would be ok with you know...

I haven’t really kept up with SungTaro but look at Taro. I could barely recognize him! I really like this hair on him though!

As for Taeyong pic you uploaded. As much as I like Taeyong and his experimental style... I don’t like this hair color on him. Not bad, but not the best.

Also, I finally heard all the songs enough to give my final verdict. It’s funny because I remember you told an anon before who was not feeling Jungwoo’s voice to basically ignore it, and that is what I have done. I like Jungwoo’s voice sometimes (i.e. BOSS), but when I literally listen to DJJ and I will be like what happened to Jungwoo? I either unconsciously stopped listening or am not actively listening for his voice. Therefore, my final verdict is... that his voice fits great lol

p.s. to all the Jungwoo bias out there, please don’t take this verdict seriously. I don’t have a real verdict for the reasons stated above (basically not hearing him), so I can’t give an appropriate opinion on something I can’t give my full attention to.

I've never seen any mentions of Do liking feet even as a joke. But it's a fun activity to look for evidence, I won't stop you, haha.

I mean, we really have no evidence Jaehyun is into feet (those screenshots are just random thing). He never commented on Do's feet (he does regularly about Do's calves to tease). I agree, though, that if he were, Do wouldn't object.

SungTaro promoted in Japan for quite some time, but now they are temporally MIA, waiting for the debut of their unit. There are so many groups and solos lined up in SM, and a debut of a new unit is a big thing, that it won't happen ealier than the second half of Summer. I suppose they have to wait for NCT2023 to be launched with a smooth integration in the lore. Shotaro passed the Korean language test recently, I think? And he now calls BoA as noona, heh. The years of waiting weren't completely wasted.

The yellow with black Tae's haircolour is not the best among the colours he had, however, it can't be perceived as such. It is too jarring, too unnaturally looking. The point of such a colour is not to compliment or highlight, but to attract attention and stay a lingering impression. It's that "change!" element. The important thing is that Tae still can pull it off, he doesn't look ridiculous or like the hair is a wig.

The way we perceive a voice and a song is influenced by our emotions and our mood. We are good at tuning out sounds (like the ticking of clocks). I understand English, but when I listen to English songs I often don't follow the lyrics, as I switch off language recognition programme and don't pay attention to words. Some songs can irritate one time and feel OK another time. It's really all very subjective. That's why I advocate for giving songs a second and and a fifth chance.

[weneverlearn]

Elvis Costello, live, 2/9/23, Gramercy Theatre, NYC

The marquee all aglow!

So three songs into last night's show - the first of a string of 10 solo shows here over the next week - Elvis Costello went into a story about how he came about writing "Hoover Factory," one of my fave songs of his from his first B-sides collection, Taking Liberties, and probably my second fave Elvis album.

He said he wrote it while taking a bus to his computer programmer job circa early 1970s. The bus route had him passing this massive, beautiful Art Deco building that was long closed down - "It's a grocery store now." He said it was inspired by Jonathan Richman - (paraphrase) "I figured, if he could write about a Boston museum, I can write about about an old closed factory."

It was a moment that connected a number of byways in my personal musical taste in one line (not to mention he then proceeded to do a perfect, emotional, raw version of it). To know that Costello was hip to Jonathan Richman - seemingly right when that 1976 Modern Lovers album finally came out - and the image in my head of a young Elvis sitting in a beat-up old British bus thinking of the Modern Lovers, was just not the story I would've thought I'd hear about a song I've long loved, but made perfect sense the second it rambled out of Elvis' mouth.

Even the fact that the Hoover Factory was just a grocery store today still made me smile, so glad it wasn't torn down as expected, still standing.

Then, sitting beside me was my brother Mark, visiting from our hometown, Cleveland, Ohio. I wouldn't have been at this show if it weren't for Mark. Not just because he bought the ticket for me as a gift, but that he was the person who got me into music in the first place. Letting me sift through his records right when I was old enough to sift was my jumping off point. He also originally hipped me to Elvis Costello (Mark is probably a worldwide Top 37 Costello fanatic).

Later, when I was off at college and he was living in Chicago, I started making him mix tapes, and I specifically remember a time when I put some MC5 songs on one. He told me he'd only heard of them before, he loved the songs, and it was apparent that my musical excavation was inching in front of his.

That was probably the biggest compliment I ever received about my musical taste.

Without either getting increasingly mushy or delving too far into the Modern Lovers, MC5, or the midwest connections of proto-punk - , as I am want to do - here's a quick review of the rest of this stunning Elvis Costello show.

Starting out with "Welcome to the Working Week" was a fun nod to the fact Elvis was starting out a string of solo shows - dubbed "100 Songs"- that will run over the next two weeks here at the Gramercy. But that was about the only forward-looking moment. This night was almost entirely reflection. Not that I was expecting an evening of new songs or some explosive Attractions set. The whole set of shows has been promoted as each night revolving around some songs from a specific album and filled out with career-spanning surprises.

I thought this night was supposed to be Get Happy (my fave Costello album), but that plan was out the door before we walked through the doors. We were handed cards as we walked in that had the night's 10-song setlist, but even that zoomed off onto surprise byways by the fifth song.

"Radio Sweetheart"

Another reason expectations were particularly reflective was the news that afternoon that legendary songwriter Burt Bacharach had just died at the age of 94. Elvis said a few nice words about knowing and working with him for around 30 years. (Paraphrase) "Everyone says 'Oh, he had a good long life,' or 'It was time.' It is never the right time for someone you love to die. And I really loved that man."

Then he went into "Baby It's You," which he said Bacharach wrote for the Beatles, but I've only known the Shirelles version. Anyway it was lovely, with the crowd singing along on the la-la-las. (He lated also did the Bacharach song, "Anyone Who Had a Heart.") It was that kind of evening overall, very intimate. The Gramercy can probably fit around 700 people, but the simple rectangle shape, folding chairs on the floor, and subtle light effects on the stage made it feel like you were in an even smaller club setting. Though Elvis' raw, solo stance might've felt intimate in Madison Square Garden.

He had a rotating bunch of guitars sitting around or being brought over for him; three mics set up, each with a slightly different filter; and he even sat down for three piano numbers.

Whatever was going to happen, Elvis said early on that he was sticking to songs "I wrote before 1977." So we got some great early numbers like "(Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes," "Radio Sweetheart," "I'm Not Angry," and a particularly emotional "Stranger in the House," among many. The setlist is here.

One real surprise was "Imagination (is a Powerful Deceiver," a song he explained went back to his first band, Rusty. He said him and bandmate Allan Mayes didn't always agree on music back then, but they both loved Van Morrison, "Before he went off and became completely crazy."

He then launched into an impromptu amble through Morrison's classic, "Domino," followed by his own "Living in Paradise" from This Year's Model, the riff of which he admitted to ripping off from "Domino." And that sort of pop-out-of-nowhere spirit remained through the rest of the gig, though he did drift back and forth into the 10-song setlist we were given, songs that indeed did exist before 1977. That eventually turned into 24 songs, a just under two-hour set.

Early on, during an intro to a tune, Elvis said something about how when they first recorded it, they used "a new wave sound on the guitars. God I hated that stuff." It was a funny quick tip-off to the ever-present inquiry in the minds of any early adopter Elvis fan of where he stood in the whole punk / new wave pantheon he was thrust into, if mostly by virtue of time and territory - London, 1977.

Mark hanging on the stairs down to the merch table.

While part of me believes Elvis himself has always struggled with where he fits too, if in an increasingly who the fuck cares way, the tension of that history has only added energy to what is otherwise undeniable about Elvis Costello. He has remained one of the most consistent, inventive, and musically curious songwriters that were sprung from that whole era.

While at one point Elvis joked that he liked how each song got successively quieter as the night went on, his energy, funny stories, and especially the sometimes violent guitar noisemaking at the end of some tunes betrayed an energy that's still going strong, not matter the look-back vibe of the evening.

After ending with a wild, choppy, chord octave-jumping rendition of "Mystery Dance," then an incredibly tender and elongated "Alison, he came back out for a few more, including the closer, "(What's So Funny 'bout) Peace, Love, & Understanding," a full-on singalong, Elvis pulling it up and down and quiet and loud, but ending triumphant, the crowd cheering like crazy.

The sound guy quickly turned up Bacharach's Dion Warwick classic, "What the World Needs Now." Even Elvis seemed surprised and he stopped and lifted his hands up, singing and swaying along with the crowd for a second before walking off. I wondered if anyone else noticed as he turned, Elvis viciously threw his guitar pick at the ground with something of a scowl on his face.

He's still angry.

Walking past Madison Square Park on the way to the subway after the show...

L-R: Me and Mark on the W train home...

[ignisgalaxia]

I'm gonna get real personal. Brace yourself for a long ass reply.

When I was a tween, I had a major crush on my best friend. He was funny, smart, and talented. We'd met in fifth grade and hung out practically all the time along with some other mutual friends (mostly girls). I was delighted to find out that we were going to the same middle school. We even ended up having the same gym class.

But that entire first week of school, he didn't talk to me. It wasn't until that Friday when I went over to him and asked him what was up that he apologized and resumed our friendship. Then things went back to normal. Until November.

I don't remember what day it was, or any of the events leading up to it, but one day, out of the blue, he stopped talking to me. Completely. Never gave me any reason or indication. Just cut me out of his life. It wasn't just me. He'd also abandoned our entire old friend group to hang out with a new group of people he'd apparently met at some summer camp.

I was blindsided. You have to understand, he wasn't just my best friend, he was also my first major crush. I'd never told him how I felt because I'd been rejected by my last crush (who had also been one of my best friends at the time) and just didn't want to ruin our friendship. But those feelings had started to become more intense with the onset of puberty, and I became borderline obsessed with trying to get him back. I was in love with him, and I didn't want to lose him.

The first time he apologized, it seemed like he meant it. He even invited me to sit with his new friend group at lunch for about a week. But then it happened again. Just stopped talking to me without warning. The second time he apologized, I wasn't sure what to think. When he tossed me aside again, I thought I must've been doing something wrong, something to drive him away.

I thought maybe if I told him how I felt, he'd understand why he meant so much to me. Of course, since he wouldn't talk to me, I couldn't tell him to his face. So I wrote a note and asked one of our mutual friends to give it to him.

He threw it in the trash without even reading it.

That was when I stopped trying. I spent the rest of the year watching him from afar, wondering what had happened to us. One time I asked one of my friends that had a class with him to ask him why he stopped being my friend. He apparently said I was too possessive. I guess trying to save a relationship that meant the world to me is "being possessive."

It's been eleven years since I've seen him, and yet he's affected my life more than anyone else. After that year of emotional torment, I became more shy around people. It became harder for me to make friends, which worsened over the years. Ironically, it also caused me to become possessive of the friends I did have. My two current best friends have had to put up with a lot from me, and I'm grateful for them everyday. But that doesn't stop the self-loathing, the inadequacy, the fear that they'll leave me too. I also became wary of guys in general. I don't think I've genuinely made friends with a guy since him.

It wasn't until my university therapist heard the story that she told me I had been traumatized. What should've been petty teen drama turned into years of trauma. He taught me that people can be two-faced, that they can say they care about you, then turn around and stab you in the back, toss you aside like a piece of trash.

I want to move on. I want to forget about all the hurt he caused. But I can't. I've tried for years, but I seemed to have internalized that experience, made it a core memory. I still want an explanation. I'm someone who needs answers in order to be satisfied. But I'll never get one from him. He probably hasn't thought of me once since moving away.

I want to let go, but I don't know how.

Ten years ago we were starting what to me became an all consuming friendship.

A little less than eight years ago she ghosted me.

And I like to think I’m over that, that I’ve made peace with never knowing why.

Sure sometimes things pop up and remind me (people commenting on our coauthored fics, the release of the Taylor’s version of 1989, seeing a pair of shoes she would have loved, a cocktail using Hendricks).

But this week I was in her city (that I never ended up visiting her in).

As a culture we talk a lot about how when romantic relationships end it haunts us, leaves a scar, but the half life of friendship breakups can run just as long and deep.

[multi-writer]

Love in the Past: Chapter 7 – Running Up That Hill

Eddie x 2022! Reader

(time travel reader)

Chapter 6: The Crazy Van Dude > < Chapter 8: The Lovers Lake

Summary: who would have thought that a simple investigation of events that happened more than 30 years ago would lead to an unforgettable and somewhat bizarre journey?.

Author´s note: Guess who has been crying all weekend? Me lol. But I can finally sit down to write. Good news! This week will be my last week of classes in my college so I'll finally be able to write again every afternoon and bring more stories. Spoiler! I'm thinking about the second part of "Tolerate It", a new story besides this one (also with Eddie because we need to fix some emotional damage) and I think I will change the ending of this series (so it will have a few more chapters based on the end of this season and what we know about the fifth one, I'm just telling you that a lot of things are coming). I hope you enjoy this chapter!

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

When you arrived at the school you all went out of the car quickly so that no one could see you. Steve led you to a window that was ajar and helped you first to enter. Inside, the silence of the place caused pressure in your chest as if you were waiting for something to appear. The place was dark, when you turned around you saw Max trying to go up, you quickly helped the girl to enter, the next one was Dustin, who was a little more difficult than Max but they managed to help him, both teenagers went to the classroom door to investigate that there wasn't someone else in the school, they opened the door and silently went out.

The last one to go up was Steve, who did it without any problem. The man, seeing you nervous, just smiled and put his hand on your shoulder.

"Relax, you're with us, nothing is going to happen to you" The man´s comment made you smile. At the door, Dustin and Max were waiting for you to leave.

"Here they are..." and then began to read the documents. Steve, Dustin and you stared at Max as she read silently, concern was filling her gaze. "Both of them had the same symptoms; headaches, nosebleeds, nightmares, visions... and from there nothing else. All with in the same order..."

"Perfect!" said Dustin. "Looking at the dates you can see that the last thing that happened was the visions and that was one day before his death. With that we will know who will be next!"

"Max?" The girl's face looked distressed, which is why you decided to talk to her. "What's wrong?" You asked her.

"I... I've had the symptoms too" She commented quietly. The atmosphere became tense. "I'm next..." she said as she looked at Dustin.

"No, definitely not. We won't let anything happen to you" Steve assured.

"If Dustin's theory is correct...I only have a few hours left...I've already had the visions Steve..." the girl's eyes began to fill with tears that she quickly cleaned.

"Steve is right, we won't let Vecna near you" You demanded. "Nothing will happen to you as long as you're with us." You held her hand tightly trying to convey confidence and security. Everyone was silent thinking of some idea to keep Max safe until a noise in the hallway interrupted you. Max jumped in shock and you, without thinking, stood in front of the red-haired girl in case you had to keep her safe. Dustin stood next to you so you were all together while Steve unplugged a lamp in the office.

"Everyone stay here, don't go out" the man ordered in a low voice. Concern gripped the three of you as Steve slowly opened the door and walked to where the noise had been heard. You could hear your heart beating, Dustin looked at you worried while Max squeezed your hand trying to calm down. With slow steps you started walking towards the door, you turned to look at the clock and back at the door. Time seemed to be passing very slowly.

As you left the office you saw Steve at the end of the hallway with the lamp over his right shoulder ready to strike if necessary. Max and Dustin were behind you as you led them to where the man was, Steve stopped for a moment before turning into the next hallway while the three of you kept walking trying to catch up with him, as if you had made a silent pact not to leave Steve alone against whatever had made a sound.

The noises could be heard closer and closer making you hold your breath, they were slow but they could be heard perfectly close to where you were. You saw Steve take a breath of air and then jump in front of whatever was there. Both he and a boy screamed at the sight of each other.

"Damn it Lucas. What the fuck are you doing here?" replied Steve angrily as he lowered the lamp. As he turned around he came face to face with you in surprise. "Shit! I told you to stay in the room!" he yelled.

"We weren't going to leave you alone! You're crazy if you thought that!" you replied as you advanced towards him to see who was responsible for your scares. In front of you stood a boy wearing a jacket from some team.

"Lucas? What are you doing here?" asked Max approaching.

"I've been looking all over for you guys! The team has been looking for Eddie and therefore Mike and Dustin! I've been leading them the other way while I've been on my way here."

"And how did you know we were at the school?" asked Dustin.

"I saw Steve's car parked outside while I was looking for them. Who are you, by the way?" he turned to you again.

"(y/n) a new friend who wants to help them" you raised your hand in greeting. The boy raised his hand likewise. While they were still talking one person in the group had disappeared.

"Hey... and Max" asked Lucas causing you, Dustin and Steve to look mutually alarmed.

"We'll split up and look for her! First one to find her yells to find out where she is!" commented Steve. You all took different hallways to cover more of the school and find Max.

The hallways were a bit long and spooky because of how dark and lonely they were, perfect for a being from another dimension to attack. You had never run so fast. Worry filled your body again as you thought of Max. You stopped at every door to see if she wasn't there. When you didn't see her, you became more desperate remembering that she had said she only had a few hours, maybe less given the situation. Turning around in the hallway you could see a red-haired girl staring at the wall. You ran as fast as your legs would let you until you reached her. The way Max was standing made the worry you had turn into fear, her eyes were looking up while she was immobile, so you grabbed her shoulders and started shaking her.

"MAX!!! MAX WAKE UP. GUYS I FOUND HER! MAX, PLEASE WAKE UP" One of your hands went to her cheek to hold her face. In the distance you could hear the hurried footsteps of the boys, who were soon beside you and started shouting Max's name. A few seconds passed before she took a breath of air causing her to fall to her knees and her eyes to return to normal. The four of them followed her to the floor of the school to hold her down so the girl would calm down.

"Vecna!... He... He is here," the girl said between breaths. "There was a clock, a very old clock. It's always a clock" Steve turned to look at you and you just nodded.

"Time to go." Quickly everyone got up, Max with help from Lucas, and went back to the counselor’s office to grab the sheets they had found and take it with them in case it would be of any use.

You went out the same window they came in through and everyone ran to Steve's car, the three teens in the back and you accompanying Steve in the front.

"Where are we going?" you asked as you adjusted your seat belt. "To my house, it's lonely at the moment so it's perfect to come up with a plan." Steve said as he started his car. The drive wasn't that long, upon arrival Max headed to the kitchen table while the rest of you stayed in the living room to think. While Dustin told Lucas everything you had discovered, Max asked Steve for some paper and a pen and then began to write on different sheets of paper.

You sat down on the floor and opened your backpack, inside was the walk-man that was supposed to be your cell phone, when you opened it there was no cassette, so you were surprised but you did not give it much importance, along with this were some car keys, apparently, that had also changed, but you did not know where it could be, the candy had also changed era. Finally, you found a lighter that belonged to a friend of yours and you had it because she asked you to take care of it. When you saw what you had you were discouraged because none of this would help you in case you fought with whatever was looking for Max.

Your thoughts were interrupted when the girl came over to give the boys cards. "Don't open it!" she commented as she saw Steve was opening his. "In case something happens to me...I want you to know how I feel about you all..." she commented making Lucas get up from the couch.

"Max, nothing is going to happen to you" He said grabbing her arms, Max only moved to pull them off of him.

"Just in case something happens to me" he commented then turning to look at Steve. "Steve, I want to go to my house to see my mom, can we?"

"Sure, we'll be right there" replied the man without hesitation. Everyone got up and you quickly stuffed all your stuff into your backpack and then clutched it in your arms.

Remembering that Max's house was next to Eddie's and you had already been there, you knew they wouldn't last long in the car. Upon arrival, Max ran out to her house while you stood outside waiting for her. It didn't last long before she came out of her house. Her face looked upset.

"Hey, everything okay?" asked Steve.

"Yeah...can we go to the cemetery?" his question made you look at her with surprise but you decided to stay quiet. Steve just started the car back up and set off. When he got to the place she wanted, just like at home, she got out alone and with quick steps walked over to a headstone where she sat down.

"She lost her brother while fighting a monster last year at the mall. He sacrificed himself for Eleven" Dustin explained to you as he looked at his friend.

"Eleven? The girl with powers right?" you asked as you turned to look at him.

"Yes, she has superpowers" Dustin answered causing Lucas to punch him in the arm and signaling with his eyes to not comment further. "What? She's from the future, I don't think a girl with powers is something weird" Lucas turned to look at you.

"Nice to meet you" you moved your hand closer to shake his. "I'm (y/n), I'm from the future where technology has advanced, nothing paranormal happens and where girls with superpowers are indeed strange because in any year is not something you see every day" Lucas let out a laugh as he shook your hand. Letting go he turned to look at Max seeing that she was still sitting down.

"How's the future?" asked Lucas.

"Boring" you sighed. "A lot of things are happening but at the same time not. Everyone is connected on the internet and a lot of electronic devices are going to change more than you think" You decided to leave your information as general as possible, no knowing if talking about the future was going to change if you told them anything more detailed.

"Hey... Max took too long already" Steve commented looking towards the window.

"She's with Billy, let her talk to him" Dustin continued.

"No, I'm serious, Max isn't moving" After that, the oldest of the group opened the door and got out to yell at her, when Max didn't answer you all got out of the car to run to where she was. Just like at school, her eyes were looking up, the first one to grab her was Lucas, who started yelling at her. Dustin pulled out his Walkie Talkie while trying to communicate with Robin and Nancy hoping for some information, Steve was yelling at Max while you were thinking of some way to wake her up from her trance.

They kept yelling at her until a noise came out of the device in Dustin's hands. "Music... use... music" the connection was failing but that was enough for the three boys to open Max's backpack and pull out his Walk-Man and search through her cassettes for something. While they searched, you sat down next to Max and grabbed her hands trying to wake her up, they were ice cold. When you saw her feet move and felt her get up that's when you yelled to the guys.

"Boys! Hurry! Something is happening!!" you shouted making them get desperate.

"It's happening! It's happening to Max!" yelled Dustin into the Walkie Talkie.

Lucas quickly placed a cassette in Max's device and placed it in her ears before it was too late, 'Running Up That Hill' could be heard from it. You let go of her hands as the girl rose higher causing you to pull her hair out of desperation and start yelling at her along with the rest of the guys.

"It´s happening the same thing Eddie told us about with the girl in his trailer" you commented causing your eyes to fill with tears, scared for the girl.

This can´t be happening

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tags: (the ones in black are the ones i can´t tag and i don't know why :c) @lillyof-the valley @jedinerd27 @greekktragedyy @preciousbabypeter @joukiworld @hellojameshowyadoin @sleepgod182 @knowledgefulbutterfly @totallynotkaibiased @felicityofbakerstreet @beatrizsunflower @stitchattacks @tyunite @thcorvi @im-nada @intergalacticaquarium @thedoubleexposurephotography @edenstarkk @bubblebuttwade @mouseymagines @notjosepedrobalmacedapascal @abbygraceasd @becc-wa @science--hoes @frozenhuntress67 @bucky-babygirl @mcueveryday @madhatterweasley @aspcun11 @allmixedlove @tina1938 @smolserpent @bilbobag9ins @little-diva-gurl

[outlustings]

Hello there! I've been enjoying every little bit you wrote about Eddie, he's my absolute favourite in the outlast games, your characterization of him is spot on and everything is just fhshdhsjdh

If I may request a thingie, I'd love to see your take on a pregnant psychiatrist assigned to help Eddie, and him being very delusional on who the father is, and thinking it's his

(bonus points if he asks to feel the baby kick)

Thank you so much for what you do! Have a lovely day!

(ok so this got out of hand. you said "your take" and my take is sad and awful and i hate it lol. have 5k words of it.

this is not a cutesy story this is choppily written angst. my film studies teacher would call this high melodrama but i'd personally like to call it me trying to turn my depression into a contagious disease.

reader is referred to with she/her pronouns. reader also needs a hug, nothing goes well for reader. lots of emotional neglect and sadness and everything. reader is alone in the world lol. enjoy?)

×

This new job was making you tear your hair out. Interviewing and offering emotional support to insane men wasn't exactly new to you, no, not really, but trying to act calm around a serial killer? That was tough. Not to mention that the moldy, cold building was filled to the brim with these violent people - but for some reason, as a cruel test from the universe, you were assigned to the worst one of them all. Eddie Gluskin. Case number 196. That number would haunt you in your dreams.

Things were going a bit rocky with your spouse at home, but you chose to blame it on the stress of you working in a place like Mount Massive. The reason why he slept on the couch most nights or played net poker into the early hours of the morning on the computer, gambling your savings away - it was just tiredness. Yes. The move had been hard on him. And your new job was hard on him, right? Who the fuck wanted to live in Colorado anyway?

Not to mention all the nights that you spent up and about your tiny apartment, trying to ignore your partner's fist slamming into the desk for the fourth time that night, leafing through past interviews and files upon files of him. Gluskin.

All of those pictures of mutilated women, all of the BDI tests and brain scans and newspaper clippings. Insane prescriptions for sedatives and doctors' handwriting about his medication causing hypersexuality. You spent many sleepless nights thinking about this man. You hadn't even met him yet.

Another thing that drove you practically insane was people grilling you constantly in the breakrooms.

Oh, you know, we're just both so tired from work, and you know, we gotta pay that mortgage, you heard yourself explain to your coworkers for the fifth time in the same month.

We really don't have the energy to focus on kids yet. But you guys are looking great!

But you knew that their nods and smiles as they cradled their tea cups on top of their baby bumps were a front that concealed their pity for you.

Why aren't you pregnant yet, doctor? Why don't you get knocked up, doctor? Why, doctor, I thought you'd be the kind to have kids early? Why don't you come over for Michelle's baby shower, doctor?

It was driving you insane. You weren't safe, not even in the breakroom. You took up a habit of eating your lunch in an empty toilet stall, away from your coworkers.

And then there was Eddie Gluskin.

You hated him. Hated how his eyes wandered down your body as you tried talking to him, hated how his leg brushed up against you underneath the table, how his foreamrs strained against his handcuffs, how his hands ached to wrap around your neck. His sly grin, the way he talked to you, so lightly, as if nothing was wrong. He divulged frustratingly little about anything. All he wanted to talk about was you, himself, and the supposed chemistry between the two of you.

"I knew ever since I first laid eyes on you - you, you would be the one," he'd said once, leaning back in his chair, inspecting your blushing face with a grin.

It was starting to make even the supervisors uncomfortable. They amped up security, for your sake.

What you didn't like was him being restrained - you'd never been comfortable with the extreme measures at Murkoff - but what you liked even less was how entirely convinced he was about your relationship being something other than professional. And it never changed, not even as the weeks went on.

He was talking to you as if you were his dutiful housewife, catching his coat as he shrugged it off after an exhausting day at work before taking his hand and leading him to a plate of some horrific jello slop. The vivid image of yourself in turquoise heels and an apron flashed before your eyes. Marion Ryan on the radio. You almost smiled. This was all so, so stupid.

You shook your head slightly, trying to focus on his words, nodded solemnly before cutting off his monologue.

"Eddie, are you aware of where you are right now?"

He turned his gaze to you. Confused. Maybe even a little offended. But you had to know if he was delusional - maybe regressing into a previous life. Suddenly, in your mind, the lady with the turquoise heels had no face. You wondered who she could've been. Someone else?

"Pardon?" he huffed out, his thick brows knitted together. You had interrupted him so rudely.

You swallowed.

"Are you aware of where you are right now?" you repeated, slower this time.

"Yes? Why'd you ask?" he gave a small laugh, incredulous. Like your question was stupid.

"You seem awfully casual with me," you blurted out, smirking slightly as you watched his cheeks blush faintly. So, so faintly.

Eddie rolled his eyes.

"You won't even let me tell you about my day? Like we're strangers," he muttered under his breath, "Stupid bitch."

You frowned.

"I'm sorry?"

"Nothing," he waved his hand as best as he could in his handcuffs, assumed another casual, charming grin, his eyes glinting dangerously.

Your brain was scrambled. What the hell was going on? You sighed.

"I'm going to let you tell me about your day - but don't call me that," you eyed him, clicking your pen and pressing it against your notepad, ready to cuss him out in an email later.

"Call you what?"

"Anything that you're trying to call me - I know we -..."

"Darling?"

"That too. Just -..." your eyes flicked to your notes, where you began scribbling something.

"Did you enjoy last night?"

You lifted your head up, quirking your brow at him as he grinned at you.

"Last -...? What?" you asked, stopping your pen mid-sentence, staring at him, the way his eyes narrowed and his grin melted into a smirk.

"Try to remember, my love," Eddie leaned closer, lowering his voice into a conspiratorial whisper as you heard his handcuffs clink softly underneath the table, "How I fucked you. The way you were begging for it, little minx."

You blinked at him, heart sinking to your stomach as you felt cold, numb waves flood through your extremities.

"No. That never happened."

Your throat felt suddenly very dry. You watched his eyes rove over your body as he smiled, cocking his head to the side.

"Don't worry, I won't tell them," he winked and gestured towards the two-way mirror to your left, "I know you're a little shy about these things, but it's only natural."

You huffed out a laugh, regretting it immediately as you saw his eyes glint and flick to your lips.

"Right. Okay then," you tried to compose yourself, "I'm sorry, maybe you dreamt it. Because it definitely didn't happen, Eddie."

You kind of wanted to add a second"I'm sorry," to the end but decided against it as you watched his pupils dilate. For a second, the intense blackness swallowed you whole. You shuddered, ever so slightly, but held his gaze.

"Ah," he clicked his tongue and leaned back in his chair, making a point in rattling the chains of his handcuffs against his thighs as he adjusted on his seat, "Well, darling - nevermind. I'm just glad we were able to conceive."

Oh Christ.

×

You couldn't shake the look in his eyes for a few days after your last appointment with him. So intrusive, yet - genuine. Why did he sound so genuine, so sure? You couldn't get the intense, icy blue gaze out of your mind. His boyish grin haunted you.

You'd have to write this down in the notes. His little delusions. Fantasies. At the cost of your own dignity.

You tapped your fingers against the rim of the toilet seat, watching the whirling waters below as you flushed down another cup or so of bile. It was six in the morning.

Morning sickness? Couldn't be.

I mean, you kind of have to, your brain told you as you grabbed the cardboard box on autopilot, shaking the rickety plastic stick out onto your palm. You racked your brain, thinking about your spouse. Maybe - wait, two months ago? You couldn't even tell when the last time was. He hadn't touched you in weeks.

You eyed the unopened pack of pads on the shelf as you tapped your foot against the tile of your bathroom, waiting for the result. Wait, when did you buy that pack again? It was like time was blurring into a big, grey mass and your brain was a fuzzy, great mess. Everything was wrong. You threw a quick glance at the test resting on the edge of the sink. Two lines. Your heart skipped a beat.

You only told your spouse. No one else. Of course, you wouldn't bring it up at work, especially not to him. Eddie Gluskin did not need to know you were pregnant.

You were getting nowhere with him. Even after four months of constant consultations, all he wanted to talk about was his days at the library with anatomy books, playing pool with the other patients and how he'd managed to get two portions of prepackaged dessert by being charming to the staff at the cafeteria. He was deep into his own delusions as ever. Kept calling you his wife. Darling, dearest, beloved. Maybe he really thought you were his.

×

"He's refused to leave his cell," the guard sighed, crossing his bulky arms, leaning against the doorframe of the empty therapy room, "Unless you come to retrieve him yourself, ma'am."

You blinked at the man, clicking your pen absentmindedly, your eyes flicking to your watch. Twelve minutes late.

"W-why?" you cleared your throat, "Why isn't he cooperating?"

The guard shrugged. Indifferent.

"I don't know, ma'am. But he won't move. He said he won't move unless you, uh, come. And I've got orders -..."

"Yeah, my orders not to restrain him," you finished his sentence and rose from your chair with a sigh, your hand flying to your lower back, "Shit," you muttered.

"Your orders?" the guard scratched the back of his neck.

"Yes?" you quirked a brow, "Is there a problem?"

It came out way more aggressive than you wanted.

"No, no," the guard shook his head, his hand shooting to his belt, where he snatched his keys and started spinning them around in his finger, the little clinks digging into your throbbing brain, "I just thought - you know. You weren't the doctor."

He gave a weak laugh, the kind where he was inviting you to laugh with him. You wanted to punch him.

You slung your bag on your shoulder and frowned pointedly at him.

"No," you said coolly, "I don't know. Shall we go then?"

×

"You do have a gun on you, right?" you eyed the bars of the cells and how easily they rattled in the fists of the prisoners as the groaned and yelled obscenities at you.

"A taser," the guard mumbled.

You sighed.

"You better have some excellent aim then if shit hits the fan," you adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder, very aware of the clicks of your heels against the crumbling concrete of the cell block floors and the howling and hissing of the men around you.

You approached the door of the cell that you knew to be his. Your fingers felt numb as you reached out for the bars, grabbing onto them for support as you cleared your throat. The cell was dark.

"Eddie?" you called out softly, "Come on, we have to get going. I'm here now. You're late."

No reply. Your heart beat loudly against your ribs.

"Can you turn the light on?" you hissed at the security guard who blinked at you dumbly. He raised his flashlight.

"He dead?"

"I don't know," you whispered, turning your head back to the cell, "Eddie, wakey wakey," you called out, desperation clawing at your throat. You heard a grunt from the bed of the cell and the guard lit up the cell with his flashlight.

Eddie climbed up from the bed, flashing you a wide grin.

"Darling, you finally came."

"There we go," you sighed, "Come on, there's no time for games, we have to get going, okay?"

You gestured for him to come out. He rose slowly from the bed, walked up to the bars, bare feet slapping against the concrete. He leaned against the bars. He was so much taller than you. You swallowed.

"Where are your slippers?" you heard the guard pipe up from behind you. Eddie just stared at you. Licked his teeth obscenely.

"Eddie, get your shoes on, we have to go," you crossed your arms, tried to ignore his heavy breathing and feverish little mumbles as he pressed himself against the bars.

"Not the cuffs this time, please," he muttered.

"It's policy," you sighed and tapped your heel against the floor, "Let the gentleman here get you into your cuffs and we'll go."

"Why don't you love me?"

"Eddie... Not now. Really."

"Let me out, we can run away - together."

You stepped back but felt his hand snatch your wrist. You squealed. The guard lifted up the taser.

×

The months dragged on and on. You were heavily pregnant and every day felt like a herculean task. Getting out of bed was hard and it was not only because of your swollen belly. You were overworked and stressed out and your nearly daily run-ins with Gluskin didn't help in the slightest. The higher-ups wanted more therapy, more consultation mingled with whatever the fuck they were doing downstairs. It made him aggressive. Rashes that split his handsome features began popping up on his face, his swollen lips twisted into a frown.

"For the sake of the baby," his voice trembled in frustration as he gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white and distended, "I'll have to work on my moods, darling. But you're really not being very helpful."

You tried very hard to not roll your eyes.

"Okay, do you want to take a break?" you sighed in defeat, tapping your pen against your bottom lip as you eyed your watch. You were only twenty minutes in and it was already going swimmingly. You made a mental note to never bring up his father again. Not on a Monday morning.

"Oh no, you can't just walk away from the mess you've caused," Eddie chuckled, "I know that you lot get hormonal, but really, there's no need for such - vulgarities. Nonsense."

You shook your head.

"I can see that the topic hurts you," you tried to go for an understanding approach but you were interrupted by his scoff.

"Hurts? No - but I'll tell you what hurts," he narrowed his eyes at you, bouncing his leg up and down so that the chains of his handcuffs clinked dangerously, "What hurts is a mother denying the father of her child. That's unbelievable."

You felt coldness settle in the pit of your stomach.

"We've talked about this," you sighed, furrowing your brows, "My... pregnancy - has nothing to do with you, so can we please stay on the subj-..."

"Has nothing to do with me?" Eddie repeated, barking out a breathy laugh, lifting up his hands and slamming them down on the table while looking around the room.

"It really doesn't, Eddie," you gritted your teeth.

"I bet that's why he kicks you so much," he quirked his brow, baring his teeth, his voice lowering to a growl, "A rotten temper - just like Mommy. But no matter, if he has the same smile as you, so lovely..."

You exploded.

"No!" you screamed, rising up from your chair so fast that you knocked it over, "This is enough! This - it's not yours! My baby is. Not. Yours! Your fucking -..." you lifted your hands to your head, tearing at your hair as you swallowed your spit, eyes wide, "Your wet dreams are not real! I'm sorry that you're alone and I'm sorry that I'm such a fucking shitty psychiatrist - god - I can't help you, I really can't! This is not real, the baby is not yours, so stop it! We've never been anything but a doctor and a patient and I'm sorry I can't help you but this is too much! Stop acting like - like... it's..."

You took in shallow breaths, your lungs expanding painfully as a sob racked your body and you shook, your words dying down as you slowly bent down to pick up your chair and slumped on it, your head in your hands, tears streaming down your face as all you heard was the rushing of blood in your ears and the monotone buzzing of the lights above you.

Eddie was silent. You rubbed youe eyes with the heels of your palms, sniffling against your sleeves as you trembled in your chair, carrying the weight of the world on your shoulder. Every bone in your body was screaming for rest.

"I'm sorry," you huffed out after about a minute of tense silence, wiping at your eyes.

"No," Eddie muttered, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..."

"No," you said louder, not making eye contact as you swallowed back another sob, "No, I'm sorry, I should-d-..." you hiccuped, "...- be more professional. It's just that - god, I'm so..."

You couldn't even finish your sentence before burying your head in your hands again, leaning your elbows on the cold steel table between you and him. You heard the rattle of his handcuffs, heard a soft, feathery popping noise and raised your eyes as he waved a tissue in front of you, one that he had plucked from the box on the table.

You took it with a slight, choked out laugh and blew your nose noisily.

"Thanks," you mumbled, dabbing at your eyes with a dry corner.

Eddie just nodded. He watched you wipe your tears, his face blank, but soft. Almost pitying.

"I'm sorry, darling. I upset you."

×

You always came back to an empty house, your legs sore, your eyes swollen and bloodshot. Yet he wasn't there. The father od your child. He was away most of the time. Kept his distance. Even in bed, he kept his distance, his back turned to you as you rubbed the stretched, itchy skin of your stomach, trying to focus on those crumbly patterns on the ceiling so that you wouldn't start hyperventilating. Then morning came and back to the asylum you went. And back home you came, the smell of piss, blood and hand sanitizer fading into the pungent fumes of fresh paint that wafted from the baby's room and gave you a migraine. You sat on the floor, folding tiny clothes into a bag, unfolding them onto the floor, then folding them again, swallowing back your tears. It's like you were going insane.

You were offered a severance check in February. You took it. You didn't even care anymore - you didn't care where the money came from or what they were trying to say by essentially firing you, leaving you to pack up your office in some damp cardboard boxes - you really didn't give a fuck. You were glad it was over.

But you had to say goodbye. You had to.

×

You walked up to his cell, nodding at the guard reassuringly as he twisted his key in the lock and wrenched the heavy door open. You swallowed, tugged at your coat and stepped inside his cell. His domain.

Eddie was sitting in the center of the room in a rickety chair. Humming. They must have kicked up the sedatives after your last visit to his cell. You were kind of glad as you eyed the scratchy linen of his straitjacket, how his muscles bulged against the straps. You felt both guilt and a sense of triumph flood over you. What had this place done to you?

You took a deep breath and walked up to him, leaving about two feet of room between the two of you.

"Eddie?"

His head snapped up, startlingly fast. He smiled tiredly.

"My love - I was just thinking about you."

"Eddie, I - uh..."

You didn't even know where to begin. You settled your hand on top of your bump as if trying to suck up courage from your baby. You sighed.

"I'm leaving Mount Massive, Eddie. We're - this is going to be goodbyes, okay?"

Eddie blinked at you.

"What?" his lips parted, his eyes widened as he tried to process what you'd just said.

"Yeah, I'm - I'm leaving," you decided you'd add some finality to this all and continued, "I got fired."

Bullshit.

"No, that's not possible. You were so good to me," he shook his head slightly, his voice quiet yet slightly panicked.

You smiled gently.

"Thank you. But I gotta go now, Eddie. I jist came to - to..."

You didn't know why you came. You watched him stare at you, watched his handsome face stretched into a taut grimace as his eyes drilled into yours. He was silent for a while. You opened your mouth but he interrupted.

"Can I feel it?" his voice was startlingly soft. It trembled ever so slightly, bouncing off the walls of the cell.

"Eddie, I - I really don't know -..."

"Please?" he whispered, "Just for a moment?"

You stared into his eyes, and for a moment, you got lost in the softness of the baby blue - the exact color of a blankie you'd picked out for your baby. Something took over you. Against your better judgement, you nodded slowly, took a few steps towards the man in front of you.

Eddie's face was blank as he leaned to you, his face a few inches away from your bump as you shuddered in the cold air, feeling the indescribable heat of his body against yours as you closed the distance between the two of you. He cocked his head to the side and softly, slowly, pressed his ear against your belly. You held your breath, watched from above as his broad shoulders rose and fell and how he nuzzled his cheek against the roundness of your stomach. For a few heartbeats, he listened, eyes wide. Then his face melted into a soft smile. You watched his lip quiver.

"Ah, a healthy heartbeat. He's strong," Eddie mumbled, craning his neck back and flashing you a slight grin before settling his forehead against your belly.

Against the thin, stretched fabric of your blouse, you felt hot puffs of air fan over your skin as he breathed against you. You swallowed back a lump in your throat, watched as he gave your bump a gentle kiss. Another one. Then he pressed his forehead into you, sighing deeply against your belly.

Everything felt hazy. It took a while for you to adjust to the warmth inside you and when you came to, you found your hands tangled in his black hair, squeezing him closer to your waist in an awkward hug as you stroked his head.

You trembled, your eyes burned and your throat clenched around empty air and the scent of mildew and the scent of the iron bars and the scent of him.

"Hush now," you heard his voice as he cooed to your bump, "Mommy's got to go away now. She's feeling shy - but she'll come back to Daddy with you. All mine."

You let out a shaky sigh and tore your hands from the softness of his hair, hating yourself as white hot disgust pumped through your veins. You looked down at his flushed face, his pleading eyes that were glossy underneath the blinking fluorescent lights.

"I have to go," you croaked out, "I'm sorry."

"Stay, please," Eddie whispered, "Please don't go."

You stepped back, grasping your belly, rubbing at the are where he had touched you. You shook your head, walking backwards, heart beating. He rose from his chair.

"I can't. I have to go."

"No!" he gritted his teeth, his voice getting louder, "You can't leave me!"

He wriggled against his restraints, taking a long step towards you.

"I can't stay," you shook your head, felt a tear roll down your cheek, tasted the salt as you watched him try to shrug off his straitjacket, his wide eyes fixed on you as he grunted in desperation.

"Don't go!" Eddie yelled. You shook your head, tried to open your mouth, but no words came out. Nothing but a weak whimper as you backed out of the cell and slammed the door shut, squeezing the bars between your fingers as you watched him.

"I'll find you, I'll come and see and - and I'll take you and him home! You can't walk away! You can't do this to me!"

You heard him scream as your vision blurred and you stepped back from the cell bars on wobbly legs, turned youe back to him and started walking away towards the doors. Your chest felt heavy. Shattered.

At least someone was excited about the baby.

You heard his voice call your name out to you behind your back, but this time, it was low and gruff, bouncing off the walls sharply, drilling into your brain. Not a smidge of gentleness. Only desperation. But not hysterics, not anymore.

"You know it's not real, right? The child."

You turned around on your heels. He was slumped forward, forehead pressed against the rusting bars, his eyes fixed on yours. His chipper grin was gone. All softness in his face had turned to icy coldness. You shuddered slightly, but didn't open your mouth. Just stared at him with what you hoped looked like pity in your eyes.

"I heard the doctors talk about it. It's not real," he paused before muttering quietly, with a bitter edge to his voice, "I would have given you a real one and you know it."

You wanted to scoff at him. But you didn't. He sounded so sure. Something in your gut told you - no, nothing was wrong. He was wrong.

"Yeah, I know," you spat, "You with your - your fucking... Grasp on all things real. Don't even bother."

You stood there for a moment. Staring at him, your blood feeling cold. An empty, numb buzzing spread throughout your limbs as you looked in his eyes for the last time. One final blow that he had to deal to you.

"Goodbye, Eddie. I wish you the best."

You didn't even know if your words were genuine anymore. You turned around and rushed to the metal stairs, wiping your eyes, sliding your other hand on the railing, hearing the guard's keys clink against his belt behind you as you left case file 196 to rot in his own sickness, his own filth. Fuck him. You didn't even care anymore. That's what you kept telling yourself as sobbed with your forehead pressed against the steering wheel of your car.

A few weeks went by and you kept seeing the man in your dreams. Blood and guts and screaming babies and his god damned smile. You woke up in cold sweats, your heart racing as you felt your belly, felt the kicks that your son gave you. You're safe, you closed your eyes and rubbed your bump, fingers grazing stretched skin and bulging flesh. I'm gonna keep you safely tucked away from Daddy. Then you'd turn to your side and fall asleep quicker than you realised what you'd thought.

×

The labor was tough. Excruciating. Even with the epidural, you felt nauseous, tingly. Cold. You tossed your head from side to side as you hyperventilated on the plastic sheets, kicking and screaming.

"Emergency caesarean," you'd heard after twenty hours of trying to push. You didn't even care anymore. You just wanted to hold your son. You welcomed the darkness as the clear plastic was cupped over your nose and mouth, the air tasting sweet and viscous and cold. So, so cold.

With all that trouble he gave you, you knew he was his father's son.

Your partner squeezed your hand. You blinked lazily at him, trying to adjust your eyes in the bright light. Dark bags under his wide eyes. His mouth a thin line. Something was wrong. Your stomach jolted.

"What is it?" you muttered, adjusting yourself on the pillows, hearing the fabric rustle underneath you, mingling with the beeps all around you, gripping his hand with numb fingers, "Honey?"

He just shook his head, ever so slightly, his wide eyes still fixed on you. You were starting to feel creeped out, the way he held your hand and just stared. He looked almost catatonic.

"Wh-where's the baby, honey?" you looked around the room, turning your head, tearing your gaze off your spouse. An empty crib with tubes around it, hooked to nothing, undisturbed hospital sheets quivering slightly in the breeze of the air conditioning, "Where's... Where is he?"

You shook your partner's wrist, your brows furrowing.

"Where -...?" you opened your mouth, lifting your upper body off the pillows before being interruoted by a knock at the door.

"Come in," your partner called out hoarsely, not taking his eyes off you.

The door was pushed open. Two doctors with white coats stepped into the room along with a nurse. You eyed them.

"You're awake, we -..."

You interrupted them.

"Where is my baby?" you demanded. Your voice was starting to get louder. They just stood still, quietly.

"Sweetheart," your spouse whispered squeezed your hand, bringing it to your lips. You felt panic constrict your throat.

"Where is my baby?" you yelled. Your words echoed, rattling the linoleum as your chest heaved. The doctors shut the door and stepped to your bedside. Your gaze flickered between their solemn faces and your partner's glistening eyes.

"No," you croaked, your voice going up an octave as you felt coldness spread through your stomach and chest and into your limbs, "Where?"

"Darling... There was no baby," the stranger sitting beside you said with a blank face, his thumbs digging into the flesh of your palm. You breathed in exactly one lungful of the sterile, numbing air, your eyes widening before you distantly felt yourself let out a raw, throat-tearing screech as your world collapsed on itself. You saw nothing. Blackness swallowed you. There was nothing.

[normanblowup]

The “All I've ever wanted was a place to belong. Somewhere I could call home. And you gave me that. Because you are my home." prompt for a pickles x reader 👉👈??

All I’ve Ever Wanted

Pickles the Drummer x reader

prompt: “All I've ever wanted was a place to belong. Somewhere I could call home. And you gave me that. Because you are my home."

summary: pickles has issues with his family, the reader comforts him

warnings: emotionally abusive family, hurt/comfort, angst, transphobia, swearing

words: 1,108

a/n: i have such a hard time with going in depth into characters because i don’t want to get anything wrong lol, i’m always scared i’m gonna have to get corrected by someone 😬

———

You’ve been friends with Pickles since you were teenagers. You went to school together, you comforted him when things got shitty, you gave him a home when his dad kicked him out for the fifth time that week, and you helped pay for his top surgery when his family refused to.

He doesn’t often have to deal with his family nowadays, given his celebrity status, but sometimes he’ll get the odd phone call from his mother and his entire emotional well-being will go to shit. He hates her, she’s been nothing but shitty and cruel to him his whole life. She’s the reason he has any kind of doubt within himself.

His mother seems to think that Seth is the perfect child and Pickles could never live up to him, that Pickles’ job is ridiculous compared to the things Seth has “achieved.”

Pickles’ dad on the other hand, also an absolute asshole. He often kicked Pickles out of their home growing up, whether it be for an argument or, in his words, “being a nuisance.” He never supported Pickles during his transition, and the only reason his father uses the correct pronouns is because he’s sick of having Seth correct him all the time.

Although, Seth has never been unkind to Pickles about being trans, he has his moments as well. Seth often only calls Pickles because he needs money, mostly for stupid business adventures. He’s always been the one their parents favored, the one who could do no wrong.

Pickles never wants to go back there, never wants to have to see these people again. He never felt at home, never felt safe there- not with them. A home isn’t just a house, the people in it make it a home. That place was like hell, shouting and slamming doors being the soundtrack to a normal day.

Pickles would always sneak out of his window in the night, or just walk if he got kicked out, and go to your house. He’d throw pebbles at your window til you opened it up and told him to go the front door. You’d let him in, noticing the irritation around his eyes from crying, and you’d let him sit on your bed with you. He’d tell you all about whatever happened that day, about how his dad could never accept him, about how his mother wanted him to be something he could never be.

He’d often sob into your chest as you held him close, you listen intently and pray you never have to get too close to these people because God knows if you do, you could never hold back from obliterating them. No one should get away with hurting Pickles, no one.

Today you console him like you used to, which hasn’t had to happen for a while. New Years has just past, and we all know how mothers love to call around the holidays. She started to yell at him over the phone, asking him things like what was he going to do with his life. It doesn’t matter what answer he gives her, it’s never going to be good enough.

He trudges back to his room, flopping down on his bed with such force that he almost bounces back up. He used to get so upset he thought he’d get an asthma attack, but now he’s just tired. And he’s not sure which is worse. Tears slide slowly down his face as he clutches a flat pillow to his chest, gripping tightly and afraid to let go.

You over heard the conversation, so you came to check on him. Knocking softly on his door, you ask if he’d like you to come in. Of course he would, he doesn’t think he could get through any of this if you weren’t here. You enter in quietly and gently sit on his bed next to his face planted form.

“I’m sorry if this is rude, but I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, your mother has absolutely no right to talk to you like that. She gets no say in how you choose to live your life, and personally, I think she can just go fuck off.” You whisper, rubbing his back in circles and watching as he lifts his head up. His face is red and his freckles stick out in his flushed state.

“I know, you say that every time.” Pickles sighs, sitting up beside you. “I feel so stupid. I do everything I can to make her happy, to make her proud and she just doesn’t ever give a shit. I’m never gonna be enough, am I?”

You look at him, he can’t make eye contact and he can’t seem to stop his tears as he tries to wipe them away.

“You’re always going to be good enough. Just because she can’t see that doesn’t mean that you aren’t. Oh, Pickles, come here.” You pull him closer, letting him sob and sniffle into your shoulder. This is the routine: his family shows up and ruins things, you come in and make them better. He knows this, he understands it, and he couldn’t be more grateful for it. He doesn’t think he could ever keep going in this life if he didn’t have you to yank him back up. Yes, he has his friends and he can talk to them and rant to them freely, but none of them could ever get over themselves enough to truly comfort him. But here you are, holding him and letting him snot up your shirt.

Pickles has never felt at home in his own childhood house, in any of the houses his family lived in for that matter, but he comes to the realization that maybe home isn’t a house. Maybe it’s where ever you are.

He leans back and looks you in the eyes, his calloused hands coming up to hold your face as your own tears start to fall.

“All I've ever wanted was a place to belong. Somewhere I could call home. And you gave me that. Because you are my home." He whispers solemnly and he hopes you don’t hear the desperation, the sorrow and longing, in his voice. His forehead rests against yours as he looks into your eyes, he’s so close you could count all the freckles on his face.

“You’re my home too, Pickles.” You smile and give him a small kiss on his nose as your wrap your arms around his midsection. “Now, c’mon, let’s watch some stupid TV shows and forget all about those assholes.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He chuckles and hugs you close to himself.

[randomshyperson]

The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - Chapter 19 - The Seventh Yearh (Part Four)

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies. || Chapter Warnings: PTSD, mentions of violence, dark magic, mind games, emotional manipulation, brief sexual teasing/thematic with minors, angst, minors kissing.

Series Masterlist ||  Read on AO3 || All Works Masterlist

Chapter 19 - Part XIX - The Seventh Yearh (Part Four)

The tent is already set up, and you are sitting in the living room, adjusting the radio on the kitchen table.

"Are you sure it was working before?" You mutter discontentedly, beginning to feel frustrated with the device that refuses to recognize the signal.

Wanda, who is standing next to you with a magic book in her lap, doesn't take her eyes off the reading when she answers yes.

Agatha comes out from inside the room with several objects in hand, and dumps them on the table in front of you.

"Well girls, what I have to do in this country can only be done during the day, so let's study in the meantime." She announces as she arranges the jars she has brought. You raise your eyebrow, pushing the small radio away.

"Actually I wanted to ask a few questions and finish going through the memories, Agatha." You say but she laughs, denying with her head.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about." She says. "Are you trying to lose your mind completely? You can't use zinnia for too long. It destroys that fragile mind of yours. I'm sure that's part of the curriculum, so what are you doing at Hogwarts if not studying?" She sneers and then looks at Wanda. "Oh wait, I know what kept you busy."

You turn red, but before you can complain about the woman's lack of description, Wanda is speaking.

"In case you have forgotten, we learned about zinnia in fifth grade." She says. "And Hogwarts was not an example of any teaching in that period or the year after for Y/N."

Agatha rolls her eyes, shrugging to end the teasing. You feel too embarrassed to look at Wanda again.

"Well, I'll go and fix Kaecillius' damage to my school administration then." Says the teacher. "If Miss Stark intends to become a decent witch, she needs to learn magic. The same goes for you, Miss Maximoff."

"I know magic, Agatha." Wanda begrudgingly retorts, her gaze returning to the book.

"If I remember correctly, my tutoring was discontinued, so there is much you need to learn."

"You remember it well, yes. We had to break off relations because you attacked my girlfriend." Wanda returns the teasing, but Agatha only laughs lightly as she begins to do some mixing.

“Water under the bridge, now.” She mutters, and soon, she’s putting a cup in front of you, and pouring a clear liquid inside.

"No, thank you." You say, leaning your arms on the table. Wanda gives a short laugh from your side without taking her eyes off the book.

"It's not poison." Agatha says.

"I know, I've seen you do it." You say. "I just won't drink it because it would be the second intoxication in less than 24 hours."

Agatha laughs, pulling the glass back to herself. A proud smile on her lips because you were able to recognize that whatever she was doing, it wasn't ready yet.

She charms the mixture, purple magic touching the liquid, until the color changes to a brilliant gold.

She pushes the glass back, and you raise an eyebrow.

"Drink."

"No."

"Wanda, darling, drink this." She says pushing the glass toward the girl. The witch sighs, her eyes on the book.

"Don't drag me into it, Agatha. " She says. "It was you who told her not to accept drinks from strangers."

"You two are so annoying." The witch declares. You giggle, but accept the drink.

For the next hours, Agatha teaches you to recognize the smell, and then the taste, of different plants, so that if you do get poisoned, at least have time to try something.

It's dinnertime when she decides to wrap up with one last potion, and you're resting your head on the table, waiting for her to finish brewing the potion, the book she's enchanted floating in the air beside her.

"Here." She says pushing the bottle in front of you.

It is only when the potion touches your lips that you recognize the taste. The same elixir Agatha gave you in the dungeon.

Your body tenses, and you cough awkwardly, pushing the cup back to her while she watches you attentively.

“W-why would you…” You started feeling your chest hurt, your heart racing. Swallowing the emotion away, you look at her, but Agatha is already organizing everything.

"What did you do?" Wanda asks worriedly, noticing the way you have gotten jumpy. Agatha sighs.

"Trauma can be a powerful thing, Miss Stark." Murmurs the older witch. "An immense vulnerability to an opponent to take advantage of. You'll need to overcome that if you want to protect her."

You stand up, feeling embarrassed and overwhelmed, evading Wanda's touch on your shoulders. "I'm going to bed."

"I didn't mean to upset you, Miss Stark." Agatha says, but you are already leaving.

You hear Wanda slam the book down hard on the table before following you back into the bedroom.

As you sit on the bunk, trying to normalize your breathing, she kneels in front of you, her hands on your neck.

"What happened?" she asks worriedly, her fingers caressing your skin.

"It 's stupid."

"Tell me."

You sigh, looking down at your own lap. "It's the same potion she used on me, in the dungeons. To keep me awake."

"I'm going to kill her." Wanda says simply, but when she makes mention of getting up, you hold her in place.

"Hey, it's okay." You say quickly. "She's messing with us, again. But I don't think she really meant any harm. Besides, we have an agreement don't we?"

But Wanda had an anger in her gaze that you have never seen before, her jaw locked. You touched her cheek with your hand.

"Wanda?"

"I hate this, Y/N." She confesses between teeth, her eyes filling with angry tears. "I hate what she did to you. I hate that I can't change, take your pain away. Not being strong enough to protect you. Or smart enough to see that she was using me an-

"Wanda, stop it." You interrupt seriously, and as your hand moves down her neck, you feel the metal of the necklace. Sighing softly, you keep your attention on the green orbs in front of you. "I really want to take away all the guilt you feel before it eats you alive, but I don't know how. Tell me how to help you."

Wanda seems surprised at your words, and just looks at you. And then to your lips, and you feel her breath hitch, before she puts a little distance between your faces.

"I'll be fine." She assures you with a sad smile. "My priority is whether if you will be as well."

You smile at her. "I'm only okay when you're okay, Wanda."

It sounded romantic in your head, but maybe those weren't the words you should have chosen, because Wanda looked away immediately, almost embarrassed, and not for the right reasons. Swallowing dryly, she got up from the floor.

"I-I'm going to talk to Agatha." She declares. "About boundaries. This won't work if we don't have any." She walks away to the bedroom door, but before she leaves, she turns to you again. "I'm also going to heat up dinner. Join us if you want."

But you wouldn't. You weren't hungry, and you were feeling stupid for saying that just hours after you heard Wanda confess that she hated that your life depended on hers.

So you threw yourself on the bed, and tried to get some rest.

You ended up oversleeping. And you only woke up because Wanda was having a nightmare in the top bed.

Moving quickly out of the bunk, you stood, turning to check on her.

A frown even with closed eyes, wriggling slightly in bed. You sighed with concern, tracing the skin of her face to wake her without startling her.

When she had a small jolt, her eyes were red, but they returned to their normal color when she realized she was only dreaming, and threw her face back into the pillow.

"I'm sorry." She murmured in a hoarse voice, but you just supported your arms on the mattress, and your face in them.

"For what?"

"For waking you up." She retorts, turning to lie on her side, and face you.

"No problem." You say. "I guess in a way I'm returning favors."

Wanda smiles, but it is so short that you feel awkward. And then you extend your fingers to her neck.

"Why are you still wearing this?" You ask about the necklace, and she frowns slightly, turning back to stare at the ceiling.

"Agatha hurts you when she wears it." She says simply. " So I will wear it to avoid that."

You shake your head. "No way, take it off now."

Wanda moves further away, on the edge of the bunk. You sigh impatiently, and climb onto the mattress.

The metal makes a noise with the new weight, but you are busy trying to get the necklace off Wanda, who grumbles and tries to struggle against your hands as she tries to keep you from falling off the bed.

You end up on top of her, the necklace in your right hand, but your other hand dangerously close to her breasts.

"Don't wear it for long." You tell her half out of breath from the struggle and the closeness, Wanda is looking at you wide-eyed. "Let's switch whenever it starts to get too much, okay?"

"Y-yes."

"Wanda, you're blushing." You tease with a smile, watching her cheeks. She looks at your mouth, frowning.

"No I'm not."

"Is it because I'm on top of you, baby?" You continue, and she turns even redder. You were going to tease her further, but while you were talking, you had moved to put the necklace on.

And when the object hung around her neck, all the tension changed.

You looked into Wanda's longing gaze and could only remember that she chose to leave you. Without asking your opinion. Without caring about your feelings.

So you pulled away, with a neutral expression, laying down on the bed beside her.

There is a silence between you, Wanda is trying to control her heartbeat and you are trying to push so many doubts that pop into your head at once.

"I think if you're not going to be with me, we shouldn't do this kind of thing anymore." You state simply, and can hardly be bothered by the way Wanda stands tense beside you.

And there is a long pause, until she speaks. "Okay."

You want to scream at her lack of reaction. All you do is stand up, and leave the room.

From that distance, you cannot hear Wanda crying against the pillow.

//-//-//-//-//

It doesn't take long for you to realize that wearing the necklace is addictive.

The deal is not more than four hours for each, but every time the object is hanging around your neck, you are gripped by the urge to keep it with you.

There is a whisper in the back of your mind saying that Wanda could lose it, or break it, and it's hard to push those lines away when you need to give it back, but you manage. And you wonder if Wanda thinks the same things.

When you are wearing the necklace, you feel apathetic and angry. It's as if all the bad things that have happened to you reach the surface at once. You give short answers, and isolate yourself. Your mind sighs things that you think you should remember are lies.

Agatha is trying to make you a better witch. The same for Wanda.

She teaches you things you don't know, from books you've never seen.

But with weeks of running and camping, and the horcrux around your neck, you begin to grow impatient with the lack of answers.

So you are breaking a plate without realizing it.

"Fuck." You grumble in irritation as you feel the pain of the small cut on your hand. The noise has attracted the other two women, and it is Wanda who reaches for you first, but when she touches your forearm to pull your hand and see the cut, you move away as if you have been slapped. "Don't."

And you throw the dishcloth on the table, leaving the tent.

You are somewhere in northern Ireland, Agatha said it was at least.

And there are many trees obscuring your surroundings, but you walk among them without caring about getting lost. The necklace whispers that you should be alone, and you believe it.

The cut on your hand aches a bit, but you stop only when you reach the edge of a lake.

Maybe the icy water will calm your anger. Or maybe you will die of hypothermia and Wanda will live happily without you. The last thought made your stomach turn, but you kept taking off your clothes.

The necklace was cold against your skin, but no colder than water.

You dove in, and stayed under the water until you needed to breathe again.

The tears on your face were tears of frustration, but the lake wiped them away.

You wondered if they would leave without you.

If Wanda would run away and abandon you in Ireland.

She didn't want you to stay with her after all.

She didn't want you.

You sobbed.

And you went back under the water until you stopped crying.

But then someone jumped into the lake, the noise startled you.

You opened your eyes to find Wanda's terrified look under the water before you ascended together.

"Merlin, what is your problem?" She squinted in desperation, and you realized that she began to cry. "I thought you were-"

But she sobbed without being able to complete, and you shrank back against the cold water, hugging your body. "I just went for a swim."

"Don't ever do that again." She pleads between tears, throwing herself against you in a tight embrace, which you don't reciprocate.

The horcrux screams in the back of your head, like a loud whistle, and you are pushing Wanda by the waist. "I'm fine, we can go."

You walk out of the lake in a mechanical manner, ignoring the upset look Wanda has as you do so. And you put on your clothes in silence, until you are standing clumsily at the edge.

Before you return however, Wanda calls out to you.

"Take it off."

"I still have time." You mumble without looking at her, but Wanda is approaching and you clench your jaw.

"I wasn't asking." She says and you lock eyes with her in defiance, not moving. When she is close enough to pull out, you move forward and kiss her on the mouth.

She sighs affected, almost losing her balance. And when she motions to kiss you back, you pull away.

"Don't touch what isn't yours." You don't know if you're talking about the necklace, or your body, but either way Wanda's eyes fall to your lips, and she holds her breath.

"I wasn't." She whispers, and without losing her composure, her hands go up your arms until they reach your neck, and she is so close that you ignore the urge to keep the necklace, and let her do whatever she wants. Her fingers find the item. "The necklace belongs to any worthy slytherin. And you, darling, you have always been mine."

You sigh as the necklace comes off, and Wanda throws it on the floor the next moment.

This time, it is she who breaks the distance, bringing your mouths together in a passionate kiss.

Your head spins, and you surrender. Her hands go to where the necklace was, and her tongue invades your mouth without waiting for permission, taking you for herself, making you gasp.

Thrusting your body forward, with your hands on Wanda's waist, you press her against the tree behind her, never breaking the kiss and making her sigh at having your body so close.

You are kissing each other firmly, with longing. You breathe breathlessly against each other's lips, afraid that if any of you pull away you will be done for good.

Your hands start to move down before you can think about it, and when they reach Wanda's ass, you squeeze the flesh against your hands, and she moans against your lips, thrusting her hips forward, begging for more.

There's not the slightest possibility that your first time with Wanda would be in a forest, in the middle of the snow, but when she bites your lips and kisses you like this, it doesn't seem so impossible. It gets hard not to think about getting down on your knees, tasting her where you imagine she would like it.

"We shouldn't." She manages to whisper between kisses, in the mess you two have become, and all you do is move your lips down her jaw, and then her neck. And Wanda whimpers, digging her fingernail into your shoulder. "Please."

You don't know if she is asking for more, or to stop. The second option breaks your heart, but you follow it, breathing out of rhythm as you pull your lips from her skin, pulling away.

Wanda's lips are swollen from kissing hard, her pupils dilated, her chest heaving. And you want to kiss her again, but you just swallow dry and put more distance between you.

"W-we should go back." You mumble in a hoarse voice, looking down at the ground.

"There you are!" Agatha's voice makes you jump in fright, and so does Wanda. The tension turned to shame of you being found, with clearly visible appearances of what you two were doing. But the older witch doesn't mind, a teasing smile. "Busy?"

"I just came to check if she was okay." Wanda answers quickly, clumsily as she bends down to pick up the necklace she threw on the floor.

"I imagine so." Agatha mutters. "We need to go, we didn't come here for nothing."

The way back is silent,you don't have the courage to face Wanda, but she has put the necklace back on, and isn't looking because she must be hating herself, again.

And you bite the inside of your cheek, not knowing what to do.

Agatha is whistling, and you realize that you are not going back to the tent.

"Where are we going, Agatha?" You ask curiously, and she replies still looking forward.

"Your father really did have friends in all places, Miss Stark."

You frown, but it is Wanda who speaks. "Vague answers don't make you sound mysterious, Agatha. They just annoy me."

The older witch laughs at the comment, but you think you must be too affected by the make-out session, because Wanda's locked jaw makes you wish she would just kiss you again, non-stop this time.

Clearing your throat, you look away, and decide to follow the two other witches in silence.

“We are here to see a quite despicable sorcerer, who is going to make mean and unkind remarks, and you are going to be silent so that I can go on."

You exchange a look with Wanda, who has an expression of indignation on her face.

"I can' t promise that, Agatha. " She says. "Wouldn't it be better to leave us in the tent?"

"So you can be grabbing each other like two animals in heat?" She retorts and you choke in surprise, looking away to the ground immediately. "I don't really care, but I need Stark, because Tivan owed Howard a favor and only agreed to deal with her present. And well, I expected you wouldn't let her come alone with me."

Wanda completely ignores Agatha's teasing to reply "You're right, I don't trust you."

"Thanks, sugar." The witch retorts, causing the younger girl to roll her eyes impatiently. "Do me a favor and keep that necklace well hidden. Or give it back to me."

"No." She answers quickly. "I'll keep it."

"As you wish." Agatha says and you stand in silence as you walk through the small village.

It is really very quiet, and the few people on the street don't bother to look at you guys at all.

And then you are at the gate of a huge mansion, and Agatha is telling the gatekeeper that you have an appointment with the "collector."

"Why do you call him that?" You ask, and she gives a little laugh.

"You'll understand in a minute."

You walk down the front steps to the door.

And when you enter, you hold your breath.

It is no ordinary house, it is a long dark corridor, magically enchanted and giving you the feeling that it is endless, with the same doors for miles and miles forward.

A girl about your age is waiting, and she smiles politely at the three of you.

"Miss Harkness, you have finally managed to join us." She says. "My master is waiting for you and Miss Stark."

"Miss Maximoff will be joining us tonight as well dear. I hope Tivan doesn't mind." Says the witch following the other down the hall.

"Every friend of Howard Stark is welcome, my master said." The girl says simply, and you see Agatha sigh. She seems annoyed by the other's submission, but says nothing.

You stop in front of a double door, white in prominence with the darkness of the hallway.

The girl opens it, and you enter a huge room, with the ceiling so high that even if you squint your eyes, you can't see the end. And it reflects the stars.

A tall, strong man wearing a leather dragon coat is waiting inside, and he flashes a smile that does not reach his eyes. His hair is as white as the door.

"Agatha! It's so good to see you again, old friend." He says with open arms, but reaches up with outstretched hands, catching Agatha's quickly. "Did you have a peaceful trip?"

"Hardly, Tivan, I'm a fugitive now." She jokes causing you and Wanda to exchange worried glances, but the wizard doesn't seem to mind, laughing at the phrase. "And don't call me old, we're only a few decades apart!"

Tivan laughs again, letting go of the witch's hands. He turns his face to you, and looks at you with glowing eyes.

"By Merlin, you are Stark's daughter." He says. "You have the same eyes as Melissa, no?"

You look embarrassed under his gaze. It's evaluative, and Wanda seems to notice it too, because she covers you gently, and draws the man's attention to herself.

"Oh, and who are you, sweetheart?"

"This is Wanda Maximoff, Tivan." Agatha replies earnestly, and you are surprised at the scolding. "And no, they're not for sale."

You widen your eyes, understanding the reason behind his name. Wanda's hand slides into yours immediately, covered by the cape.

Tivan gives a short laugh, "That's a shame, Harkness. You know very well the value of a scarlet sorceress. Even more a pretty thing like that."

You take an aggressive step forward, but Agatha quickly stands in your way.

"Let's finalize everything soon, Tivan." She urges. "I can't stay in places for too long. I'm sure you can understand the feeling."

The man gives you and Wanda one last look before nodding to Agatha, turning to walk toward the bookshelves on the right side in the room.

There are several shelves, with many items, and just like the hallways, extend into what seems like infinity.

Tivan just goes to the first one, and pulls out a small chest from there, enchanting it to follow him in the air to you.

"Here it is, Agatha." He says. "Howard Stark's last translator."

You widen your eyes as the chest opens. Inside, there is a small metal device. Very different from any of your father's other machines, it looks much more rudimentary.

Agatha sighs softly, lifting her fingers to trace the object.

"And you assure me it works?" She asks, and the man chuckles softly.

"I have plenty of monsters in there if you want to test it."

You swallow dryly, but Agatha just smiles. "No need, you are many things, but a liar is none of them."

"I appreciate the confidence, Agatha." He says as he moves his fingers and magically closes the trunk. "But pay before you play."

The witch doesn't look offended, she just hurries to fiddle with her robes, and you widen your eyes when she takes out a necklace.

Kaecillius' gift, the eye of Agamotto.

"That's not yours to sell!" You blurt out angrily, but Agatha keeps the item out of your reach, while Tivan seems impressed by the whole scene.

"And neither is yours, Miss Stark." She retorts impatiently. "Be quiet while the adults talk."

"Are you serious? How did you even get it, it was in the house-"

"Quiet!" Agatha cuts in turning to you, her tone is angry, but her eyes are almost pleading. "That's enough of this. Don't disgrace the good manners your father taught you."

You are indignant, but Wanda's grip around your hands makes you believe it is better not to insist.

"Play along." Her voice sounds in your head the same second Agatha turns to Tivan again, and you swallow dryly, trusting her.

"Interesting." The man murmurs, impressed, but doesn't keep his gaze on you. His attention shifts immediately to the necklace Agatha hands him.

"As you can see, it's real." She says. "A fair price for another relic, or even more valuable, since you will find no use for the translator."

Tivan grimaces. "Don't push it too far, Agatha. The translator became quite valuable with Stark's death. No one was able to reproduce another one." He says as he looks back to the witch. "Actually, I think I should raise my price." He says curling his fingers in the necklace, thoughtful as you watch Agatha tense up before relaxing.

"Now I'm the one who's going to ask you not to push it so far, Tivan." She says. "Agamotto is also dead, and that's the only treasure of his you'll get. Don't try to change the value just because you don't know how it works."

Tivan looks offended, but only for a second, because his gaze softens and he laughs. "Right, right. Any chance you know what's inside?"

"I have no idea." She says, but a part of you thinks she is lying.

The man nods, and the trunk moves gracefully through the air into Agatha's hands. She takes the small device from inside, and stows it inside her cloak.

Tivan takes his eyes off the necklace in his hands to look directly at you.

"I have a question for you, Miss Stark, before you go." He says, and Wanda squeezes your hand from behind the cloak, but you just stand there, waiting for the man to speak. "Did your father ever mention New York to you or your brother?"

"Tivan..."

"I asked the girl, Agatha." He interrupts the witch seriously. You think she doesn't insist because you are in his house, and a wizard like that, should bring trouble if contradicted. "Well?"

"No, sir." You say uncomfortably. "I don't know any New York stories."

The man gives a disappointed smile. "I suspected, but I wanted to hear you say it." He declares straightening his posture, and the necklace flies through the air until it vanishes among the bookshelves as Tivan walks back to the center of the room. "I would invite you for tea, but I understand the rush. You should know that I am always up for new negotiations with you, Agatha. And the same goes for the Scarlet Witch and her protector."

Agatha bids a quick farewell, pushing you gently out of the room.

"Don't look back, or the hall will get longer. Just keep walking." She guides in a whisper, and you think it best to obey.

The exit does seem to take longer, but you manage to reach the door. The girl from before was already waiting for you all, her arms behind her back.

"Thank you for your visit, Miss Harkness." She says politely. "My master is pleased with the acquisition this evening."

"I'm sure he is, dear." Agatha says, and touches the girl's arm gently. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

The girl just smiles, nodding almost mechanically. Agatha hesitates, but walks away.

As soon as you are outside the property, Wanda is yelling.

"I can't believe you stole from me, Agatha!" She squawks angrily as you all walk back into the forest, and the older witch just grumbles displeased at the volume, speeding off. "I told you this wouldn't work if you kept lying!"

"Would you have given me the necklace in good grace?" She retorts impatiently, but doesn't even wait for Wanda to answer. "Of course you wouldn't. Because you don't know what it is, but you're smart enough to know that it's not something ordinary. And too stubborn to willingly hand it over, not to mention you don't trust me, Wanda. I did what was necessary for us to make some progress."

"No more lies, Agatha!" Wanda insists in a mixture of frustration and irritation. "Stop hiding things. You could have asked, explained what you were going to do!

"Witches don't do that, Wanda." She retorts impatiently. "I've been alive for how many centuries, child. Do you think you can survive by telling everyone what you were going to do? No. You go ahead and do whatcha you gotta do, that’s the truth. Secrets save lives.”

"That's such bullshit." The brunette retorts, but you are almost back in the tent area, and Agatha is stopping walking.

"Give me the locket." She says, and Wanda frowns. "Let's get this over with quickly."

"What are you talking about?"

"That's why I needed the translator." She clarifies. "I went to Stark Manor last year, looking for this in the wreckage, but the walkers found it first. And it circled the dark market for months until Tivan acquired it in his collection. It's just what I need to open the horcrux and destroy it."

You look surprised and impressed, but Wanda crosses her arms.

"And how do you intend to do that?"

"Six years ago, Pietro Maximoff took Godric Gryffindor's sword out of the selector hat at my request." She counters drawing surprised exclamations from you and Wanda. "I didn't let him remember that, and I spent the last few years fortifying the metal with every kind of magic I could find. The poison from the monsters you didn't face in the labyrinth in the fourth year because I was hunting them out, or the blood from the dragon you killed in the first task. Everything. The goblins wrote to me that the sword only absorbed what could make it stronger, and even without knowing the location of the horcruxes, I needed to be ready to destroy them."

"How did you lose the sword?" You ask then, trying to fit the whole story together. Agatha sighs.

"Pietro deserted Hogwarts." She says. "The sword immediately disappeared, it went back into the hat. And I had to go back for it."

"If you had the sword and the locket, why didn't you destroy it?" Wanda questions, and seems very annoyed at the information that Agatha also used Pietro.

"Because I don't know parseltongue." She replies. "But with this, I don’t need to and I can open it."

You exchange a look with Wanda.

"This conversation is not over, Agatha." She says as she moves her hands to remove the necklace.

Agatha turns toward the tent, raises her hand from where her magic is visible between her fingers, and it takes a moment for the sword to fly toward her, gracefully fitting between her fingers.

But she hands it to you.

"I have a feeling it needs to be held by a Gryffindor." She says and you frown.

"Do you have any argument to support that?" You ask as you pick up the sword.

"It's just a guess." She says as she takes the translator out of her pocket.

She gestures for Wanda to leave the locket on the ground, and she does so a few inches away from you so that you have room to wield the sword and destroy it.

"Well, let's get this over with." Agatha says with her attention on the object in her hands. "Help me understand the language of the snakes."

The small object trembles with Agatha's whisper, and when it ascends a golden light between the openings, she continues.

"Open it."

The sound coming out of the metal is unlike anything you have heard. But as soon as it becomes silent, the locket flips open.

And something leaps out, a dark shadow that knocks you to the ground, along with Wanda and Agatha, who are thrown at least two meters away.

Your whole body trembles with fear and alertness. You lean on your elbows to look.

It is the part of Mephisto's soul that is fighting, it is the darkness of magic that protects it.

Agatha didn't fall, she is fighting the part of the shadowy cloud that tries to cover her, the purple magic around her.

Wanda has fallen, but has the same position as you, staring frightened ahead. And your immediate urge is to reach for her, stumbling to get up.

"Destroy it now, Stark!" Agatha shouts, but you keep walking.

Except that the shadow shrouds your field of vision, and you stop confused.

Wanda is standing in front of you.

"What are you still doing here?" Her tone is icy, it chills your whole body the wrong way, and you frown in confusion.

"W-what? We're destroying the horcrux, Wanda, what-"

"I told you to leave." She interrupts as she approaches, her gaze cruel. She has never looked at you like that. "Didn't you hear what Agatha said? You are weak. You are not, and you were never good enough for me."

You stumble away, shocked by the words. But she doesn't stop, smiling arrogantly.

"How was it that the least smart Stark was chosen to protect me?" She teases. "Our classmates are right. I match with the champion of the Triwizard Tournament, that woman will indeed be able to protect someone like me. And if you're lucky, you might get someone who will accept your mediocrity."

You want to throw up. But this is wrong. Something in your brain is screaming, because Wanda would never say such things.

She reaches out to you, and her touch has no pressure. It's just a ghost. An illusion, playing with your senses.

"Pathetic." She whispers, the black orbs glowing. That's enough for you.

Your mind wanders immeditarily to last summer.

"You know how much I love you, don't you?" Wanda whispers in the dark, under the covers with you. The light of the lantern while you are reading Romeo and Juliet in her room is enough for you to see her face blurry.

You smile, closing the book, and pushing it away as you lie on your side to face her.

"I have a vague idea." You joke. "I think quite a bit since I've been sleeping here all week."

But Wanda looks worried; she copies your position, but keeps a serious face. You lift your fingers to trace the wrinkle in her forehead, squeezing lightly until she stops frowning and smiles.

"I just..." She starts almost embarrassed. "Promise you'll never forget?"

You smile, because the idea is absurd, but decide to follow the line. "I promise."

And when Wanda's eyes fill with tears, you worry too, but she quickly shakes her head. "I'm sorry, I'm just being silly."

You caress her cheek, wiping away the tears that have run down. " You know how much I love you?"

You repeat the question in a whisper, and Wanda's cheeks flush, but she smiles, straightening herself up better. "I have a vague idea, because you've been sleeping here all week."

You laugh softly, and she follows you. "It's more than that." You whisper as you stop, staring at her. "I love you more than anything."

Wanda nods softly, her eyes filling with tears again, but this time it's for a good reason. She feels the same way.

"More than the characters in the book loved each other?" She asks in a gasp, her hand squeezing your shirt softly. You smile.

"What I feel for you makes the love of Romeo and Juliet seem like a crush." You retort, making her laugh embarrassedly.

But her smile slowly dies, and she swallows dryly before speaking again. "I don't want us to end up like in the book, babe. Never."

You know she's talking about dying. But specifically about you dying for her. You know that Wanda would do that for you no matter what, but the idea of living without her is unreasonable.

"I wouldn't like that either." You confess, moving closer so that your noses are touching. "I'd like to live with you."

Wanda smiles shyly, embarrassed by the implications in your speech. But you let your fingers wander to her hair, tucking the strands behind her ear.

"I think we would be happy in a cottage." You say, and her gaze brightens beyond the redness on her face. "Or we could buy an apartment in the city where there's a park for you to walk around in."

"I would like that." She confesses smiling. "To have a home with you. Wherever that is."

You swallow dryly, feeling your chest warm with happiness. "Do you think we could handle taking care of animals? I don't ever remember feeding Iron."

Wanda laughs softly, nodding. "We could try a cat first, they're more independent."

"And then an owl."

"Soon a dog."

"Maybe two."

You take a chance. "Or who knows..." But you lose courage, but Wanda smiles.

"Children."

You nod softly, looking at the green orbs adoringly. And she looks at you the same way. "As many as you want."

Wanda's eyes looking at you lock on your mind for the next few seconds as the memory fades, and you find yourself back in the horror of dark magic all around you.

You stumble away from the illusion of the locket, wielding your sword, and ignoring the adrenaline whistle in your ears.

There is no time for another defense, you raise the sword, and the next minute, it strikes the metal, destroying it.

The ghosts scream, and are gone in the blink of an eye, and you gasp in shock, still standing with trembling hands.

When Wanda stands up, and makes mention of touching you, you stumble over your words. "W-we have to go. He'll feel it for sure, let's get out of here before they find us." And you are already walking out toward the tent, keeping your gaze on the ground.

For the next few minutes, you are on autopilot.

Helping Agatha with the tent in silence, the two other witches don't seem to know exactly how to talk about what has just happened.

And when you need to Apparate to a new place, you hold Agatha's forearm instead of Wanda's hand.

"Where are we?" The brunette asks as soon as the ground settles at her feet. Agatha sighs.

"Honestly, we're running out of options." She replies. "It's still the United Kingdom, but it's almost the limit. We're going to need ideas from here on."

You remain silent as you set the tent back up, and when everything is ready, your hands are still shaking.

"Try to rest, Stark." Agatha says beside you. "You did very well tonight."

You only mutter in understanding, hurrying off to your room.

Not even taking off your shoes, you throw yourself on the bed, burying your face in the pillow.

Maybe sleep will put the horcrux image out of your head, but you imagine that once you fall asleep, this will be the only thing you’ll dream about.

//-//-//-//-///-//-///-//-//

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[sk1fanfiction]

the many faces of tom riddle, part 4

-attachment, orphanages, and yet more child psych: time to add yet another voice to the void-

FULL DISCLAIMER THAT THIS IS JUST MY OPINION OF A CHARACTER WHO DOESN’T HAVE THE STRONGEST CANON CHARACTERIZATION, AND THUS ALL THIS IS BASED ON MY CONCEPTUALIZATION.

I'm going to be super biased, because my favorite portrayal of Tom Riddle is actually Hero Fiennes-Tiffin as eleven-year-old Tom Riddle, in HBP and I get to chat about child psych in this one, sooo here we go.

First of all, I’m just so impressed that a kid could bring that much depth to such a complex character.

This is the portrayal, I feel, that brings us closest to Tom’s character. Yes, Coulson’s brought us pretty close, but by fifth year, the mask was on.

We don't really get to see Tom looking afraid very often, but it's fear that rules his life, so it's really poignant in our first (chronologically) introduction, he looks absolutely terrified.

The void being the fandom's loud opinions on a certain headmaster. I wouldn't call myself pro-Dumbledore, but I'm certainly not anti-Dumbledore, either. (Agnostic-Dumbledore??)

Since I'm not of the anti-Dumbledore persuasion, I decided to poke around in the tags and see what the arguments were, so I don't make comments out of ignorance.

Most of the tag seems to be more directed towards his treatment of Harry and Sirius, but a few people mentioned that Dumbledore should have treated Tom with ‘exceptional kindness’ and tried to ‘rehabilitate’ him.

As I said in Parts 2 and 3, I am 100% in favor of helping a traumatized kid learn to cope, and I don’t think Tom Riddle was solidly on the Path to Evil (TM) at birth, or even at eleven. Not even at fifteen.

Could unconditional love and kindness have helped Tom Riddle enough for the rise of Lord Voldemort to never happen? Possibly, but...

Yes, I'm about to drag up that Carl Jung quote, again.

“I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.”

The problem with this is that if you’re going to blame Dumbledore for this, you also have to blame every other adult in Tom’s life: his headmaster, Dippet, his Head of House, Slughorn, his ‘caretakers’ at the orphanage, Mrs. Cole and Martha, and possibly more. In fact, if we're going to blame any adult, let's blame Merope for r*ping and abusing Tom Riddle Senior, and having a kid she wasn't intending to take care of.

Furthermore, you cannot possibly hold anyone but Tom accountable for the murders he committed. (I should not have to sit here and explain why cold-blooded murder is wrong.) And if you like Tom Riddle's character, insinuating that his actions are completely at the whim of others is just a bit condescending towards him. He's not an automaton or a marionette, he's a very intelligent human being with a functioning brain, and at sixteen is fully capable of moral reasoning and critical analysis.

I've heard the theories about Dumbledore setting the Potters up to die, and I'm not going to discuss their validity right now; but he didn't put a wand in Tom's hand and force him to kill anyone. Tom did it all of his own accord.

And while yes, I have enormous sympathy for what happened to Tom as a child, at some point, he decided to murder Myrtle Warren, and that is where I lose my sympathy. Experiencing trauma does not give you the right to inflict harm on others. Yes, Tom was failed, but then, he spectacularly failed himself.

We also have no idea how Dumbledore treated Tom as a student.

In the movies, it’s Dumbledore who tells Tom he has to go back to the orphanage, but in the books, it’s Dippet. We know that Slughorn spent a lot of time around Tom at Slug Club and such, yet I don’t really see people clamoring for his head.

I regard the sentiment that Dumbledore turned Tom Riddle into Lord Voldemort with a lot of skepticism.

But let's hear from the character himself -- his impression of eleven-year-old Tom Riddle.

“Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time?” said Dumbledore. “No, I had no idea that he was to grow up to be what he is. However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, something I should have done in any case, given that he was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt I ought to do for others’ sake as much as his."

Now, assuming that Dumbledore's telling the truth, I'm not seeing something glaringly wrong with this. No, he hasn't pigeonholed Tom as evil, yes, I'd be intrigued, too, and it's a very good idea to keep an eye on Tom, for his own sake.

“At Hogwarts,” Dumbledore went on, “we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have — inadvertently, I am sure — been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school."

Again, it seems like he's at least somewhat sympathetic towards Tom, and is willing to at least give him a chance.

More evidence (again, assuming Dumbledore is a reliable narrator):

Harry: “Didn’t you tell them [the other professors], sir, what he’d been like when you met him at the orphanage?” Dumbledore: “No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible that he felt sorry for how he had behaved before and was resolved to turn over a fresh leaf. I chose to give him that chance.”

Now, I think Dumbledore is pretty awful with kids, but I don't think that's malicious. Yeah, it's a flaw, but perfect people don't exist, and perfect characters are dead boring. I am not saying that he definitely handled Tom's case well, I'm just saying that there's little evidence that Dumbledore, however shaken and scandalized, wrote him off as 'evil snake boy.'

It's also worth taking into account that it's 1938, and the attitudes towards mental health back then.

Why is Tom looking at Dumbledore like that, anyway? Why is he so scared? What has he possibly been threatened with or heard whispers of?

"'Professor'?" repeated Riddle. He looked wary. "Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?"

"I don't believe you," said Riddle. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"

"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of course -- well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!

Tom keeps insisting he's not mad until Dumbledore finally manages to calm him down.

I'm really upset this wasn't in the movie, because it's important context. Instead we got these throwaway cutscenes of some knick-knacks relating to the Cave he's got lying around, but I just would have preferred to see him freaking out like he does in the book.

There was extreme stigma and prejudice towards mental illness.

'Lunatic asylums,' as they were called in Tom's time, were terrible places. In the 1930s and 40s, he could look forward to being 'treated' with induced convulsions, via metrazol, insulin, electroshock, and malaria injections. And if he stuck around long enough, he could even look forward to a lobotomy!

So, if you think Dumbledore was judgmental towards Tom, imagine how flat-out prejudiced whatever doctors or 'experts' Mrs. Cole might have gotten in to 'look at him' must have been!

Moving on to the next few shots, he is sitting down and hunched over as if expecting punishment or at least some kind of bad news, Dumbledore is mostly out of the frame. He’s trapped visually, by Dumbledore on one side, and a wall on the other, because he’s still very much afraid. uncomfortable, as he tells Dumbledore a secret that he fears could get him committed to an asylum (which were fucking horrible places, as I said).

It brings to the scene that miserable sense of isolation and loneliness to that has defined Tom’s entire life up to that point (and, partially due to his own bad choices, continues to define it).

And, when Dumbledore accepts it, his posture changes. he becomes more confident and more at ease, as he describes the... utilities of his magical abilities. 

"All sorts," breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

Riddle lifted his head. His face was transfigured: There was a wild happiness upon it, yet for some reason it did not make him better looking; on the contrary, his finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost bestial.

I do think Harry, our narrator, is being a tad bit judgmental here. Magic is probably the only thing that brings Tom happiness in his grey, lonely world, and when I was Tom's age and being bullied, if I had magic powers, you'd better believe that I'd (a) be bloody ecstatic about it (b) use them. And, like Tom, I can't honestly say that I can't imagine getting a bit carried-away with it. Unfortunately, we can't all be as inherently good and kindhearted as Harry.

Reading HBP again, as a 'mature' person, it almost seems like the reader is being prompted to see Tom as evil just because he's got 'weird' facial expressions.

So... uh...

Nope, let's judge Tom on his actions, not looks of 'wild happiness.'

To his great surprise, however, Dumbledore drew his wand from an inside pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner, and gave the wand a casual flick. The wardrobe burst into flames. Riddle jumped to his feet; Harry could hardly blame him for howling in shock and rage; all his worldly possessions must be in there. But even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged.

Okay, one thing I dislike is Tom's lack of emotional affect when Dumbledore burned the wardrobe, in the books, he jumped up and started screaming, instead of looking passively (in shock, perhaps?) at the fire. Incidentally, I can't really tell if he's impressed or in shock, to be honest. I think they really tried to make Tom 'creepier' in the movie.

This is one of the incidents where Dumbledore's inability to deal with children crops up.

I think he was trying to teach Tom that magic can be dangerous, and he wouldn't like it to be used against him, but burning the wardrobe that contains everything he owns was a terrible move on Dumbledore's part. Tom already has very limited trust in other people, and now, he's not going to trust Dumbledore at all -- now, he's put Tom on the defensive/offensive for the rest of their interaction, and perhaps for the rest of their teacher-student relationship.

Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. "Where can I get one of them?"

"Where do you buy spellbooks?" interrupted Riddle, who had taken the heavy money bag without thanking Dumbledore, and was now examining a fat gold Galleon.

But I'm not surprised Tom is 'greedy.' He's grown up in an environment where if he wants something, whether that's affection, food, money, toys, he's got to take it. There's no one looking after his needs specifically. I'm not surprised that he's a thief and a hoarder, and I don't think that counts as a moral failing necessarily, and more of a maladaptive way of seeking comfort. It would be bizarre if he came out of Wool's Orphanage a complete saint.

Additionally, I think given that the Gaunt family has a history of 'mental instability,' Tom is a sensitive child, and the trauma of growing up institutionalized and possibly being treated badly due to his magical abilities or personality disorder deeply affected him.

And there are points where it seems that Dumbledore is quick to judge Tom.

"He was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control."

"Yes, indeed; a rare ability, and one supposedly connected with the Dark Arts, although as we know, there are Parselmouths among the great and the good too. In fact, his ability to speak to serpents did not make me nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy, and domination."

"I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless?..."

And while this is all empirically true, these are (a) a product of Tom's harsh environment, and (b) do not necessarily make him evil. But the point remains that child psych didn't exist as a field of its own, and psychology as a proper science was in its infancy, so I'd be shocked if Dumbledore was insightful about Tom's situation.

But I've gone a ton of paragraphs without citing anything, so I've got to rectify that.

Let's talk about Harry Harlow's monkey experiments in the 1950-70s.

If you're not a fan of animal research, since I know some people are uncomfortable with it, feel free to scroll past.

Here's the TL;DR: Children need to be hugged and shown affection too, not just fed and clothed, please don't leave babies to 'cry out' and ignore their needs because it's backwards and fucking inhumane. HUG AND COMFORT AND CODDLE CHILDREN AND SPOIL THEM WITH AFFECTION!

I will put more red writing when the section is over.

This is still an interesting experiment to have in mind while we explore the whole 'no one taught Tom Riddle how to love' thing and whether or not it's actually a good argument.

Andddd let's go all the way back to the initial 1958 experiment, featured in Harlow's paper, the Nature of Love. (If you're familiar with Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, him and Harlow actually collaborated for a time).

To give you an idea of our starting point, until Harlow's experiment, which happened twenty years after Dumbledore meets Tom for the first time, no one in science had really been interested in studying love and affection.

"Psychologists, at least psychologists who write textbooks, not only show no interest in the origin and development of love or affection, but they seem to be unaware of its very existence."

I'm going to link some videos of Harry Harlow showing the actual experiment, which animal rights activists would probably consider 'horrifying.' It's nothing gory or anything, but if you are particularly soft-hearted (and I do not mean that as an insult), be warned. It's mostly just baby monkeys being very upset and Harlow discussing it in a callous manner. Yes, today it would be considered unethical, but it's still incredibly important work and if you think you can handle it, I would recommend watching at least the first one to get an idea of how dramatic this effect is.

Dependency when frightened

The full experiment

The TL;DW:

This experiment was conducted with rhesus macaques; they're still used in psychology/neuroscience research when you want very human-like subjects, because they are very intelligent (unnervingly so, actually). I'd say that adult ones remind me of a three-year old child.

Harlow separated newborn monkeys from their mothers, and cared for their physical needs. They had ample nutrition, bedding, warmth, et cetera. However, the researchers noticed that the monkeys:

(a) were absolutely miserable. And not just that, but although all their physical needs were taken care of, they weren't surviving well past the first few days of life. (This has also been documented in human babies, and it's called failure to thrive and I'll talk about it a bit later).

(b) showed a strong attachment to the gauze pads used to cover the floor, and decided to investigate.

So, they decided to provide a surrogate 'mother.' Two, actually. Mother #1 was basically a heated fuzzy doll that was nice for the monkeys to cuddle with. Mother #2 was the same, but not fuzzy and made of wire. Both provided milk. The result? The monkeys spent all their time cuddling and feeding from the fuzzy 'mother.' Perhaps not surprising.

What Harlow decided next, is that one of the hallmarks being attached to your caregiver is seeking hugs and reassurance from them when frightened. So, when the monkeys were presented with something scary, they'd go straight to the cloth mother and ignore the wire one. Not only that, but when placed in an unfamiliar environment, if the cloth mother was present, the monkeys would be much calmer.

In a follow-up experiment, Harlow decided to see if there was some sort of sensitive period by introducing both 'mothers' to monkeys who had been raised in isolation for 250 days. Guess what?

The initial reaction of the monkeys to the alterations was one of extreme disturbance. All the infants screamed violently and made repeated attempts to escape the cage whenever the door was opened. They kept a maximum distance from the mother surrogates and exhibited a considerable amount of rocking and crouching behavior, indicative of emotionality.

Yikes. So, at first Harlow thought that they'd passed some kind of sensitive period for socialization. But after a day or two they calmed down and started chilling out with the cloth mother like the other monkeys did. But here's a weird thing:

That the control monkeys develop affection or love for the cloth mother when she is introduced into the cage at 250 days of age cannot be questioned. There is every reason to believe, however, that this interval of delay depresses the intensity of the affectional response below that of the infant monkeys that were surrogate-mothered from birth onward

All these things... attachment, affection, love, seeking comfort ... are mostly learned behaviours.

Over.

Orphanages, institutionalized childcare, and why affection is a need, not an extra.

His face is lit the exact same was as Coulson’s was in COS (half-light, half-dark), and I said I was going to talk about this in Part 3. I think perhaps it's intended to make Fiennes-Tiffin look more evil or menacing, but I'm going to quite deliberately misinterpret it.

Now, for some context, Dumbledore has just (kind of) burned his wardrobe, ratted out his stealing habit, and (in the books only, they really took a pair of scissors to this scene) told him he needs to go apologize and return everything and Dumbledore will know if he doesn't, and, well, Tom's not exactly a happy bugger about it.

But interestingly, in the books, this is when we start to see Tom's 'persona,' aka his mask, start to come into play. Whereas before, he was screaming, howling, and generally freaking out, here, he starts to hide his emotions -- in essence, obscure his true self under a shadow. So this scene is really the reverse of Coulson's in COS.

And perhaps I'm reading wayyy too much into this, but I can't help but notice that Coulson's hair is parted opposite to Fiennes-Tiffin's, and the opposite sides of their faces are shadowed, too.

Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. "Yes, I suppose so, sir," he said finally, in an expressionless voice.

Riddle did not look remotely abashed; he was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last he said in a colorless voice, "Yes, sir."

Here's an article from The Atlantic on Romanian orphanages in the 1980s, when the dictator, Ceausescu, basically forced people to have as many children as possible and funnel them into institutionalized 'childcare', and it's absolutely heartbreaking.

There's not a whole lot of information out there on British orphanages in the 30s' and 40s', but given that people back then thought you just had to keep children on a strict schedule and feed them, it wouldn't have a whole lot better.

The only thing I've found is this, and it's not super promising.

The most important study informing the criteria for contemporary nosologies, was a study by Barbara Tizard and her colleagues of young children being raised in residential nurseries in London (Tizard, 1977). These nurseries had lower child to caregiver ratios than many previous studies of institutionalized children. Also, the children were raised in mixed aged groups and had adequate books and toys available. Nevertheless, caregivers were explicitly discouraged from forming attachments to the children in their care.

Here's a fairly recent paper that I think gives a good summary: Link

Here, they describe the responses to the Strange Situation test (which tests a child's attachment to their caregiver).

We found that 100% of the community sample received a score of “5,” indicating fully formed attachments, whereas only 3% of the infants living in institutions demonstrated fully formed attachments. The remaining 97% showed absent, incomplete, or odd and abnormal attachment behaviors.

Bowlby and Ainsworth, who did the initial study, thought that children would always attach to their caregivers, regardless of neglect or abuse. But some infants don't attach (discussed along with RAD in Part 2).

Here's a really good review paper on attachment disorders in currently or formerly institutionalized children : Link

Core features of RAD in young children include the absence of focused attachment behaviors directed towards a preferred caregiver, failure to seek and respond to comforting when distressed, reduced social and emotional reciprocity, and disturbances of emotion regulation, including reduced positive affect and unexplained fearfulness or irritability.

Which all sounds a lot like Tom in this scene. The paper also discusses neurological effects, like atypical EEG power distribution (aka brain waves), which can correlate with 'indiscriminate' behavior and poor inhibitory control; which makes sense for a kid who, oh, I don't know, hung another kid's rabbit because they were angry.

Furthermore...

...those children with more prolonged institutional rearing showed reduced amygdala discrimination and more indiscriminate behavior.

This again, makes a ton of sense for Tom's psychological profile, because the amygdala (which is part of the limbic system, which regulates emotions) plays a major role in fear, anger, anxiety, and aggression, especially with respect to learning, motivation and memory.

So, I agree completely that Tom needed a lot of help, especially given the fact that he spent eleven years in an orphanage (longer than the Bucharest study I was referring to), and Dumbledore wasn't exactly understanding of his situation, and probably didn't realise what a dramatic effect the orphanage had on Tom, and given the way he talks to Tom, probably treated him as if he were a kid who grew up in a healthy environment.

In case you are still unconvinced that hugging is that important, there's a famous 1944 study conducted on 40 newborn human infants to see what would happen if their physical needs (fed, bathed, diapers changed) were provided for with no affection. The study had to be stopped because half the babies died after four months. Affection leads to the production of hormones and boosts the immune system, which increases survival, and that is why we hug children and babies should not be in orphanages. They are supposed to be hugged, all the time. I can't find the citation right now, I'll add it later if I find it.

But I think it's vastly unrealistic to say that Dumbledore, who grew up during the Victorian Era, would have any grasp of this and I don't think he was actively malicious towards Tom.

Was Tom Riddle failed by institutional childcare? Absolutely.

Were the adults in his life oblivious to his situation? Probably.

Do the shitty things that happened to Tom excuse the murders he committed, and are they anyone's fault but his own? No. At the end of the day, Tom made all the wrong choices.

And, for what it's worth, I think (film) Dumbledore (although he expresses the same sentiment in more words in the books) wishes he could go back in time and have helped Tom.

"Draco. Years ago, I knew a boy, who made all the wrong choices. Please, let me help you."