#let alone be actually able to fight and permanently harm him

[raayllum]

3x03 / 4x03

[simple-seranade]

Achilles Come Down

Jimmy walks into the Double Life series expecting and hoping it will be his last.

Of course, the universe has never let him get what he wants, so why should this time be different?

(Though maybe, just maybe, he can forgive the universe just this once, now that he has another day to do so.)

OK SO LOTS OF TRIGGERS HERE

TW: suicidal thoughts, near suicide attempt, self harm, MAJOR self-hate and self deprecation, dissociation, death. this is a heavy one, guys

DISCLAIMER: this is about the characters, not the CCs. I am fully aware that all the jokes are in good fun and that Jimmy is fine with it. I just wanted to make c!Jimmy sad and then give him comfort.

that being said, enjoy 6k words of ranchers hurt/comfort!

———*———

Jimmy knows the feeling of death.

The temporary jolt of the infinite respawn, the burning phantom pain of losing a life, the cold grasp of the Void permeating down to the bone and leeching every living spark in your body as you die for the final time- he’s felt it all, more than once, more than most ever have or will or should. He’d say he regards death as a good friend, if it weren’t for the fact that he was fighting it with every fiber of his being in that space below life, where there was nothing but pure nothingness in every direction, surrounding him, choking the air out of his lungs while his heart didn’t beat in his chest and his blood didn’t course through his veins-

Not the point. That’s not the point.

The point is, Jimmy is familiar with death. He’s spent more time dead than some of the new players have spent alive.

The point is, each time he’s yanked back to the realm of the living from the endless darkness, he’s met with teasing ridicule towards his downfall, mocking laughs directed at his hopes that things would be different.

The point is, Jimmy doesn’t think he can do this anymore.

A circlet burning upon a sacrificial altar, offering up his soul to one that didn’t exist, didn’t care, didn’t bless. An arrow through the chest, leaving the person he cared about alone. A fireball hitting him and setting every inch of him aflame, because his life wasn’t hell enough, he had to actually die in it. Shattered bones from the cold, unforgiving dirt as his brother hit him off of a building.

Those were just the permanent deaths. That doesn’t count for the countless burning pains and scars that are only there as a tapestry to his failure. That doesn’t count for all the times he’s picked a fight he couldn’t win and died more from the embarrassment than the actual pain. That doesn’t count the agony that was stopping the void from disintegrating him piece by piece as he waited for the others to die in the games, all alone and isolated, because right then Death only had one focus and one alone, one meal to dine upon. That doesn’t count for the thousand little deaths he feels he’s died each day as they joke about poor Tim, worthless Tim, cursed Tim, always Timmy, never Jimmy-

He’s tired. He’s sick and he’s tired and he’s done. 

He’s been done for a while, actually. A few too many careless deaths that may have not been so careless, no matter how many times he respawned. A few hearts gone not by fall or mob, but by human sword, his own or others. A few times where all he can do is sob and yank on his hair as a million words and thoughts run through his head, all the laughter just too loud, please, anyone, make it stop-

He sort of blames the others, even though he tries not to. After all, what right does he have to be mad at them when he’s the one screwing up? 

A much larger part of him wonders what right they have to laugh at him, to kick him while he’s down, because they’re his best friends, his brother, they should be able to tell but they’re too busy in their own stupid heads.

He doesn’t tell them, no matter how many times they mock him. It’s in good fun, he knows. They don’t know what they’re doing. They don’t realize they’re big contributors to the growing ache in his chest.

It doesn’t make it hurt any less. It doesn’t make him love them any less either.

So, when he gets a letter from his brother, he reads it as he always does. Grian’s invited him to another life series, one with a surprise twist Jimmy barely thinks to ponder on as he reads the rest of the information.

It still has the life system, still will be treated as a hardcore world. It will still have the permadeath mechanic, at least while the game continues.

The night he receives the invitation is the night he makes the plan. He barely realizes he’s doing it until all the steps are laid nearly out in front of him in a way he can’t refuse. It’s simple, foolproof.

Step one: Die.

Find some mobs too early on and try to fight them, purposefully plant a trap that will blow up in his face, accidentally miss his MLG water save, antagonize the red lives assuming he doesn’t reach that status first, fall in lava, let a warden’s scream shatter him- there’s no shortage of ways to accomplish it. Whatever it takes to run through all three lives (or whatever number Grian gives them this time around). 

Step Two: Let the void take him.

Players aren’t really meant to permadie. The void eats them slowly, relishing in every dissipated particle and line of code. There’s plenty of time to grasp at the strands of life available, and respawns rarely take more than a few seconds, let alone enough time for a player to be fully consumed. Single player hardcore worlds will send the player back to the Hub after only half a minute, barely any void attached, and multiplayer hardcore servers usually do the same, or at least grant the mercy of spectator mode to allow those fallen to observe their friends. 

The Life series were… different.

When he had died for the final time in Third Life, he expected to be in the void for only a few moments before the Spectate button would appear and he would watch the world continue as a ghost of his former self. He sat in the void for five seconds. 

Then ten seconds.

Thirty seconds.

A minute.

An hour.

A day.

A week.

All with the void attempting to destroy the very essence of his being, all while using every bit of strength to stop the deterioration before someone else joined him. Then it lessened, and by the time the majority of the players joined him, it was barely noticeable.

Grian apologized profusely after the game. He said he didn’t know what happened- at least, he told everyone else that. To Jimmy and Martyn, he confided the real reason the void was the way it was, why the first to fall came so close to actually dying.

If Jimmy ever sees a Watcher, he’s going to punch them in the face.

His brother thought he had fixed it the second game. The others were told of the dangers, all accepting that it could happen. Jimmy trusted his older brother. Then Jimmy fell back into the void, at least this time prepared to fight tooth and nail against the pull of nothingness.

It only stood to reason that it would happen again. That the Watchers would make it so Jimmy would have to use any energy he had left to survive, all for their amusement.

Unfortunately for them, Jimmy doesn’t plan on fighting it.

Then he will get rest.

Then he will be free from all the laughs and jokes at his expense.

No more Timmy.

No more Jimmy.

As he stands in the circle with the others, waiting on the edge of their podiums for Grian to explain the world, a sense of calm he’s rarely felt during these washes over him. After all, he knows how this will end for him. There’s no question as to if he’ll be the first to go, because he will.

And he will relish in it, before finally being no more.

Grian claps his hands, pulling Jimmy out of the fathoms of his thoughts. “Alright, guys, thank you for joining us in a third go around of the Life Series! Welcome to Double Life, as you all saw on your invites. Now, as you also saw, there’s a surprise mechanic this time around!”

“Is it called ‘Scar keeps his shirt on’? We haven’t seen that one yet!” Ren calls out, causing laughter to spread amongst the group. Jimmy joins them, though the sound seems odd in his ears. Heavy.

“Unfortunately, Ren, I haven’t figured out how to code that, otherwise I would in a heartbeat.” Grian replies, fighting to keep a smile off of his face. Scar simply sticks his tongue out at the shorter man. “No, the surprise mechanic is…. imaginary drumroll… soulmates!”

Jimmy’s world crashes out from under him, the supports holding him up weathering under the force of a thousand invisible unchangeable years of pain. 

Questions he can barely understand swell in the air, Grian barely managing to bring them to a quiet lull to answer them. “Soulmates will be randomly assigned here in a few minutes. You both will share a health bar- when one of you takes damage, so will the other, and when one of you dies, so will your soulmate. We have a few rules to stop anything from going wrong with the code-“

The rest of the words are a blur in Jimmy’s mind. The people scatter, awaiting the timer to tick down and attach their heart to another. Jimmy does too, with footsteps not his own, in a direction he doesn’t choose, all while a heart beats that soon won’t be only his.

This- this couldn’t be happening. He was going to be done. He was going to get to be free from the hell that had become his life. 

He bites back a scream and kicks a nearby tree, feeling a shot of pain race up his foot. It throbs for a moment, but it’s a welcome distraction from the anger in his head at Grian, at the world, at everyone, because why can’t he just-

3

2

1

Your Soulmate Is…

???

Jimmy blinks the green letters out of his vision, only to be hit by a strong sense of vertigo for a split second. His vision swims, and his heart beats almost painfully in his chest. 

He’s been linked.

It’s too late now.

Any sense of peace from earlier is gone, replaced by a rising sensation of dread. He can’t do this again. He can’t do this again.

Because now he’ll be dooming someone else when he dies. Now the void won’t try to feast upon him alone, and he won’t get the sweet release of his code being torn from the universe because everyone on this server likes to play the fucking hero and won’t let him.

It’s fine. It’s fine, everything is fine. He- he’ll figure it out. Maybe this will be a good thing, maybe his soulmate will have some sort of astounding luck to counteract whatever the hell the universe is doing to him.

The excuse doesn’t sound genuine, even to his own thoughts.

Ok. He can do this. Just- gather materials. Play the game. He’s done it before, he’s good at it, no matter what everyone else says.

So he does. He gathers wood, explores the world, even stumbles upon a cave. There’s a startling lack of iron inside, but at least he’s getting some stone. 

He’s smelting a few of the scraps of iron he’s found when a flash of green catches his eye in the distance, only illuminated by the torches he’s already placed down. The green turns into a shape, the shape turns into a figure, the figure turns into someone he still doesn’t know whether to regard as foe or friend.

“Oi! Jimmy!” Joel calls out, and thankfully the part of Jimmy that wants to slam his head into the stone in front of him gives way to the part that gives a practiced grin. He can see the glinting of iron armor the man dons, even in the low light, as well as the food in the man’s hand.

“Joel! Any chance you can spare some salmon?”

The man immediately shakes his head. “Uh, no. I need it, I’m low on food.”

“Fair- I was wondering who was taking all the iron, guess that’s solved now!”

Joel has the decency to look sheepish. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that, mate. Don’t want my soulmate hating me right out the gate, yknow?”

“Yeah, that checks out.” Jimmy turns back to his furnace for a second to check on the iron he’s smelting, only to feel a jolt of pain in his shoulder. “Ouch! What-“

Joel punches him in the shoulder again, laughing. “Shush, Tim, I’m gonna make your soulmate annoyed at you!”

Frustration flares somewhere deep in Jimmy as he dodges the next swing. “How did you know it wasn’t me and you? It coulda been me and you!”

The other man just shrugs, landing on more punch on Jimmy’s now sore shoulder. “Dunno, just had a feeling.”

Don’t get mad, Jimmy, don’t get mad. He’s just… being Joel.  “Well, we passed the test, so it seems like we aren’t together this go-around.”

The flames of the furnace cast a warm glow on Joel’s face as he puts some food in it. “Yeah… I prayed that it wasn’t, so…”

Jimmy wishes he could say it didn’t hurt. That after all this time he’d become desensitized to the comments, that he was able to shrug it off like any other person would be able to.

Then again, the universe doesn’t seem to be in the business of granting Jimmy’s wishes.

He should just stay quiet. He should laugh it off, move on, do what he always does, because Joel doesn’t mean any harm. He knows he doesn’t.

But a small part of him questions. It asks, just this once, if it really is a joke. If Joel really has meant it all this time, if the effect his words have had on Jimmy are justified. The larger part of him that knows it’s a joke longs for… something. Just some kind of confirmation that Jimmy is just overreacting, for Joel to look him in the eyes and say he was only kidding. 

The words escape his lips before he can even think about them.

“You… prayed you wouldn’t be paired with me…?” 

Look at me, Joel. Look at me. Look at me look at me loOK AT ME-

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t even tear his gaze away from the furnace.

Everything is clouded in a haze of raging emotions as he listens to Joel talk about the mineshaft, following blindly behind. 

The question was stupid. It was utterly, undeniably idiotic, just like Jimmy himself, because now he only longs more for the thing he can’t have. He’s angry at so many of things- Joel, Grian, the universe, himself, void he’s mad at himself-

Even the rush of finding the amethyst cave isn’t enough to clear his head, all the voices around him seeming muddy and loud enough to make him want to slam his hands over his ears. The singing of the crystals, the laughs of his friends as they remembered the last game (remembered the group they kicked him from, the times they turned him away because he’s just useless Tim), all enough to make him grateful for the peaceful quiet of the surface world as he lugs himself out of the cave, iron armor weighing heavily on his shoulders.

Well, it’s not totally quiet- this is a server with his friends. Quiet doesn’t exist with them, especially with the musical calls of the goat horns ringing across the server, the faint laughs of his friends not far behind.

(He still calls them that. He calls them his friends and he hates it because they shouldn’t be, not when they make him hurt like this, but even now he can’t say he hates them. He should, but he can’t, and it makes it all the more infuriating.)

He needs to focus on something. He can’t just sit around wallowing in his own self pity, not when his soulmate is out there. They’re going to find each other eventually, and all he can hope for is someone who will at least be happy with him if he’s useful, which means he needs more materials.

… those goat horns do sound pretty cool, though.

It takes some coaxing, getting the goat to start charging him atop the mountain. Of course the only one reluctant to try to attack him is the one he needs to. That’s just how his luck is going.

He’s not prepared for the sensation of phantom teeth sinking into his arm, nor the feeling of an arrow glancing across his cheek. He gasps as the pain races through his nerves, wondering what the hell his soulmate is doing, then there’s burning pain being torn apart fire smoke-

Tango blew up

SolidarityGaming died

The respawn only takes second, leaving Jimmy breathing heavily, hand clutching his chest as he sits in the branches of a tree. The pain is fading rapidly, and that sick, horrible part of Jimmy’s brain misses it, the same part that tells him to fall off his builds and overall be a fucking pitiful excuse of a human being.

He groans, pushing himself up and narrowly managing to avoid falling out of the tree completely as he lowers himself to the ground. He can hear frantic apologies from somewhere above him, and it takes a moment for him to spot the source of the voice- his soulmate. 

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry- that explodification came out of nowhere-“ Tango rakes his nails through his hair, small tendrils of smoke rising out of it as he does. His red eyes look sheepishly at the leaves in front of him as he sits in a tree, just like Jimmy was moments prior. “The first death too, oh gosh-“

Jimmy’s heart plummets into the earth below as he realizes that, yes, he did just die first, even if it wasn’t a permadeath. Granted, it was Tango that dragged him down, but they were practically one in the same now. He might have just doomed him from the second the universe linked them.

Void, he really is cursed, isn’t he?

Ice cold shards of hate and dread shoot through his veins, but he shoves them down into all the splintering cracks and crevices his constitution has acquired throughout all of this. He takes a deep breath, carefully schooling all the scorn out of his voice as he addresses the blaze born. “Ok, Tango, walk me through it- walk me through what happened.”

He watches as Tango talks, absorbing the words without fully taking time to understand them. The other man’s hands are constantly moving, fidgeting, and even now he refuses to meet Jimmy’s gaze, clearly embarrassed. His ruby red gaze instead flits between the leaves, the ground, the sky, anything except for Jimmy’s face.

Void, why does no one ever look at him?

He barely holds back a wince at the thought, pushing the thought down and instead reaching out a careful hand towards the fretting blaze hybrid. The other man startles out of his explanation at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder, his gaze turning to Jimmy’s almost involuntarily as words accompany the touch. “Hey, it’s all good. It happens.”

And he means it. Even beneath all the hate and annoyance and pure everything churning beneath the surface, there’s no part of him that blames Tango.

After all, why blame him for Jimmy’s curse?

There’s nothing anyone could do to be settled with this luck, to be stuck with someone who can’t build, can’t do redstone, can only blow himself up with TNT and die. There’s no reason someone would deserve to be stuck with a person who only serves to isolate and drag others down with him, because if he’s ridiculed, everyone he associates with will be too. Then they’ll hate him, leaving him alone, and it’s just a never ending loop, really, a snake eating its own tail because there’s no one around for it to eat or to even eat it.

“Jimmy? You ok?”

Tango’s words send him careening back to earth, back to reality, back to the here and now. His eyes snap to his soulmate, and he’s looking at him now. Tango’s glowing eyes are trained on him, soley on him, and Jimmy fights back the question of when the last time someone did that was. It doesn’t matter, even if Tango’s undivided attention warms his soul similarly to how the blaze born is warming the air around him just by existing.

Stop trying to care. It will be easier if you don’t.

A smile slips back onto his face the way it always does, the way he’s made it, the way it has to. “Yeah, I’m all good!”

He wishes with all his heart that he could mean it.

It’s a struggle to stay tethered to the dirt beneath his feet as he explores, attempting to find his stuff to make up for what they lost. Of course, it’s long gone by the time he finds where he died, and all he has to show for his efforts is wounded pride as everyone’s laughter rings in his ears.

Void, he’s tired.

He’s not useful. He doesn’t know how to build, not like Tango does, as much as his soulmate tries to deny it. He doesn’t blame himself for that. He doesn’t.

He does. He really does.

Still, he can do some things. He focuses on the loud mooing of cows as they follow him, big brown eyes fixed on the wheat in his hand as he approaches the ranch, knocking clumsily against the door to alert the one inside.

“Jimmy? What are you- oh my god!”

Tango’s eyes shine as they land on the cows, and he immediately leans down and pets them, running a hand through their short fur. “There are so many! Jimmy, you’re amazing!”

The canary’s brain stutters.

… what?

He barely has time to process the words, ones he doesn’t remember the last time he heard, before he’s fully encompassed and his feet are off the ground and he’s surrounded by warm. Tango spins him around clumsily, laughing and squeezing tight, before pulling both of them onto the ground. Jimmy can feel both his own dull spike of pain as well as Tango’s as his heart thuds away in his chest. 

Hands are on his back. Someone is laughing, but not at him. He’s not laughing at him. He’s not laughing at him.

For the first time in a long time, Jimmy’s heart feels warm.

For the first time in a long time, Jimmy laughs. Heartfeltly, genuinely laughs.

The rest of the day is spent in a flurry of activity, building a pen for the cows and feeding the chickens and a lovely almost domestic dance that Jimmy can barely wrap his head around, even as a pair of arms wraps around him more times than any ever have. His thoughts are still racing in bed that night. 

It’s too good to be true.

Everyone has let him just be the butt of a joke for so long, so why on earth is Tango being like this? It’s horrible. It’s horrible and he loves it and he never wants to go without this feeling again even though he’s barely had it for long. He hates it.

He still doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve it, just like how Tango doesn’t deserve all the trouble that’s going to come with being bound to him.

Haunting laughter echoes in his head, overpowering the warm sound of Tango’s from earlier. They’re a cruel, necessary reminder. He can’t let himself forget.

He’s Jimmy. And Jimmy can only fall.

He doesn’t know why he does it. It’s stupid, he’s stupid, an idiot, because why on earth is he up on the roof of the ranch? It’s not like he’s going to do anything, not when it would take Tango down with him, not this early on in the games. Still, as he looks down at the ground, he wonders what he would have to do for it to be enough to kill. If he towers up and takes off what pathetic excuse for armor he has, he should splat pretty nicely. Then he’ll be red, then he can fall again and never have to worry about anything again.

His boots are next to him now. He doesn’t remember taking them off. A chill races up his spine in the cold night air, and he finds himself longing for warmth. 

Tango is warm. He should go back to Tango.

He keeps sitting, clenching wooden planks in his hands and fighting the irrepressible urge to place one, then another, then another, then another…

He blinks. He’s higher up now. He doesn’t remember building up.

He should be more concerned, but he can’t bring himself to care.

The ground is far down, far enough to be dangerous, to be lethal. To be exactly what he wants. To take Tango down with him.

He should go back inside.

He sits on the planks, looking down. 

It just isn’t fair. He just wants to- he- 

He absentmindedly reaches up, digging his nails hard into his arms in a futile attempt to ground himself. It stings, sending spikes of pain racing through his nerves. Even when he’s almost certain there will be crescents in his arms for ages to come after he lets go, he keeps his hands in place, because maybe if he hurts enough here it will take away all the horrible tumultuous emotions that make him hurt more than this ever could.

I should fall. I should go inside, back to bed. I should stay. I don’t need to stay. I don’t want to stay. I can’t stay. I can’t-

“Jimmy?”

He doesn’t move, even as he feels his heart plummet.

Tango.

He’s so close. He should fall now. He screws his eyes shut, leaning forward. He needs to just do it a little more and-

Arms wrap around his shoulders and yank him back onto the block, holding him close. 

There’s silence across the roof as the two men breathe raggedly, one’s heart racing with adrenaline and the other’s beating fast like it was almost one step closer to never doing again. It hurts. He was so close, but now he’s not, and it hurts. Sharp spikes of pain lace through his arms as his nails dig in yet again, harder than ever.

Tango lets out a hiss, and dully Jimmy remembers that Tango can feel that now. He’s hurting Tango. Void, he’s hurting Tango and he’s so damn angry at himself for it but that just makes him want to dig his nails into his arms even harder until-

Warm hands wrap around his wrists, gently pulling his hands from his arms. “Hey, hey, don’t hurt yourself. Please, just- talk to me, rancher.”

It’s not fair.

It’s not fair that Tango is talking so softly to him despite them never having hung out before. It’s not fair that he doesn’t get this from those he’s known for years. It’s not fair that he has to keep hurting like this.

A drop of water lands on his arm, and he realizes with a start that he’s crying. A thumb gently swipes under his eye, wiping away the tears. “Let’s- let’s get down from here, ok?”

Jimmy barely manages a nod before an arm is wrapped around his waist. Slowly, Tango lowers them back down to the roof. Distantly, he realizes that Tango built up to him, wasting materials on him. He shouldn’t. Jimmy isn’t worth wasting materials on. 

He’s not even worth the air he breathes.

“Don’t say that.”

Of course he said that out loud. Of course Tango heard him. It doesn’t sound like Tango’s voice responding. It’s shaky, scared. “Jimmy, please, you don’t mean that.”

He should say he doesn’t.

He shrugs.

The wind blows. He’s so cold.

Until, suddenly, he isn’t.

Warm hands reach up, cradling his face, and it takes everything in him not to lean into the touch. He looks at Tango for the first time this all started, and Tango looks at him, really looks at him in a way no one has in a long time. “Please,” he whispers, hair flickering in the dark. “Please, talk to me.”

Jimmy pushes the words out, stubborn and unwilling though they are, screwing his eyes shut. “… I can’t do this, Tango. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t apologize, that’s- that’s ok. That’s ok, we can talk to Grian, see if he can-“

“No.”

Tango’s tone somehow becomes even more earnest. “Jimmy, if you don’t want to play this time, you don’t have to- not if this is how it makes you feel.” 

“That won’t change anything, Tango.” Silence. “I’d feel this way whether I was playing or not.”

Tango stills completely beside him, and a sick part of Jimmy cheers, because he’s finally disturbed the one good thing this run has had going for him. He’s finally going to be alone again, like he’s supposed to be, like the universe will forever dictate. Tears continue to fall from his eyes, rolling off his cheeks and onto the hands holding him so gently. 

“How long?”

That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? How long has he wanted to throw himself off buildings, wanted to drown himself knowing the others would just laugh it off as him being “classic Tim”? 

How long has he wanted to die?

“I don’t know.” He replies, because that’s all he can say. It’s the closest thing to an answer he has, because even though he knows he wasn’t always like this he can’t clearly remember the before. Only the bitter, numb, hopeless now.

“What-“ The words abruptly cut off, and he feels the temperature in the air slowly creep higher. “It’s the others, isn’t it?”

All the air leaves Jimmy’s lungs as he opens his eyes, meeting Tango’s again as he hits the nail on the head, the final one in his coffin. He does it before he can think of what it means, that it’s confirming that he’s too sensitive to take jokes, to the point where he’d rather die than let others have some fun. He realizes a split second too late as Tango’s eyes widen, the flames on his head sparking with renewed fervor. He waits for the words that will undoubtedly accompany the sparks, the anger and disgust that will come with wasting Tango’s time with his stupid, stupid emotions.

“I’m going to kill them.”

… no.

No, that can’t be right.

That can’t be what Tango is saying, all while holding him and talking to him and wiping his tears. That can’t be right.

Because-

“No, don’t. It’s not their fault. I’m just-“

“-Jimmy, don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

“But it’s true!” It comes out louder than he means it to, adding ‘yelling at Tango’ to the ever growing list of things he can hate himself for as he yanks himself out of Tango’s hands. The cold stings his skin.  “They’re just jokes! They don’t mean them to hurt. So if I am getting hurt, then I just can’t take it, because I’m weak and pathetic and I should just die!”

The words seem to ring out across the rooftop, the unspoken root of it all finally out in the open. All the things he swore he’d never let get heard are there, painful and raw and so, so messy, laid at Tango’s feet like the world’s most heretical offering, the kind that would get one cremated by holy fire for daring to even exist. 

But-

The warmth that surrounds him isn’t burning. It’s careful, firm, pressure around his waist and chest. It’s fiery and strong but not harmful, like he’s sitting in a blazing furnace who’s flames are guarding him from every spare speck of cold that could approach him. 

Tango is hugging him.

He can’t remember the last time a hug felt this safe.

“Jimmy, listen to me.” The murmured words pierce through his crumbled defenses and strike him right in his hurting, dying, bound soul. “You are not weak. You are not over-sensitive, you are not pathetic. You are kind, you are caring, and you would rather suffer to the point of death than let others know you’re hurting, but you are not any of those awful things you believe.”

He tries to talk, he does, but his brain is so overwhelmed by warmth, sadness, confusion, comfort, all the things he’s tried to keep at arm's reach, that all he can do is make a strangled whine of emotion.

“Shh, shh, I know, it hurts, it hurts. It hurts more than jokifying does, because a joke is only a joke if everyone is having fun. Jimmy, at that point they weren’t joking, even though that’s how they meant it. They were just being cruel.”

The stupid words won’t leave his lips, the questions and protests stuck on his tongue as he looks up at Tango. Somehow the man seems to know exactly what he can’t say as the blazeborn whispers his next words.

“You deserve to be upset, you deserve to be hurt by their comments. Jimmy, you deserve to live.”

The carefully crafted defenses break.

Jimmy collapses fully into Tango’s arms, gasping and heaving with great sobs as years upon years upon years of hurt and pain and anger spill out onto the blazeborn’s shoulder. He cries things, words he doesn’t even process besides his apologies and ranting and pleas, and Tango just rubs his back, sharp nails tracing gentle circles on his back in a way that only makes him cry harder.

The sun is rising by the time the sobs quiet down, leaving two soulmates holding each other in the dawn’s light. Tango’s fingers are running through Jimmy’s hair, and tears are no longer running down Jimmy’s face. The peaceful quiet isn’t shattered when Tango speaks up, instead gently crescendoed into a conversation. 

“You should talk to Grian and Joel about this.”

The canary immediately tenses up beneath his soulmate. “No, I can’t-“ He winces as his voice comes out strained, his throat raw from hours of crying. 

“Jimmy, I know Grian and Joel. If they knew they were making you hurt like this-“

“They’d blame themselves, Tango. I don’t want them to do that.”

“- I meant, they would stop making the jokes. They want you to be happy, rancher, but you have to tell them that it’s hurting you.”

“I can’t.”

Tango gently takes his face in his hands, guiding his gaze up to his own ruby eyes. “I’ll go with you if you need me to, but they need to know, otherwise the problem isn’t going to get any better.” He pauses. “Then again, if I explodificate them then they can’t make those jokes anymore…”

“No, no, no exploding my brother.”

“So I can explode Joel?”

“No!” Jimmy sighs, leaning his face into Tango’s hands. “… could you be there? Please?”

“Of course.” Tango smiles, brighter than the rising sun and kinder than he’s been looked at in ages. He’s warmer than the sun, too, filling Jimmy with a comfort and making him feel safe. He had forgotten what it felt like to be safe. 

He almost never got to remember.

There are still hard conversations he has to have. Telling Grian is certainly going to be full of tears from both parties, and Jimmy is not delusional- he knows it’s not always going to be like this, that he’s going to have to fight everything he’s come to believe about himself if he decides to trust that Tango is right.

Still, as his eyes drift shut, he finally lets himself believe that there’s hope for him after all.

[guardianofrivendell]

Uh, so I'mma request something because I really like your writing and want more of your wonderful Aragorn fics in my life. So, I was thinking some headcannons about what it would be like to date/be in a relationship with Aragorn before, during and/or after the fellowship? Thanks man, and take as long as you need!💕

A/N: I am STRUGGLING with sleepover requests, my own series (PS and DAKT) and some new stuff so I turned to my stack of��‘normal’ requests to try and write something different. Et voilà!

@katethewriter I took a lot longer than I should have with these and I’m so sorry! I’m leaning more towards the Hobbit era lately (I’m really turning into a Dwarf simp here), and I’m neglecting the fellowship members. Unforgivable! 

I interpreted this as how your relationship would develop while on the quest to destroy the ring and you’re not actually together at the start of it. Also maybe slightly OOC Aragorn. 

A/N 2: It has some nsfw hints (not much), I couldn’t help myself and it’s very unlike Aragorn I think but I’m not sorry. Also this turned out really long, I am sorry for that. 

A/N 3: Just like my other headcanons, this doesn’t make much sense so best to simply ignore this. I really don’t know what this is... :) 

Being In a Relationship With Aragorn On The Quest Would Go Like This:

Aragorn had met you in some seedy pub 

Not his first choice to take shelter from the weather but after days and days of endless rain and trudging through mud it was almost nice to be there

at least he was able to dry his clothes and have a warm meal 

he was surprised to see someone like you there 

surprised but concerned too 

for your wellbeing that is 

every single person in that bar had his eyes on you the minute you moved

Aragorn had too but for entirely different reasons

at least that’s what he told himself

so the minute one of those drunk lads laid a hand on you he was on his feet

knight in shining armor ranger clothes

before he got to you, you had floored and knocked out your assailant, threatening the others they would suffer the same fate if they tried something similar

Aragorn stood frozen in place, completely mesmerized by you

and maybe a tad bit aroused too

the life of a ranger is very lonely after all

you winked at him and left the bar shortly after

Aragorn couldn’t get you out of his head 

but what were the odds he would ever run into you again

he even returned to that godawful place a few times

a guy can hope right

you can imagine his surprise when he saw you in Rivendell

attending the secret council

he was jaw on the floor surprised

he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you

on the outside he was the cool ranger of the north, bringer of Hobbits, inventor of the Sexy But Still Rough Around The Edges Stare™

while on the inside he was  f r e a k i n g  o u t 

because there you were, finally within reach 

but then Frodo had to sacrifice himself 

and Aragorn could not not go with him 

he absolutely lost it when you volunteered as well

there was no way you were going to put your life on the line like that

you scoffed at his remark

wait did he said that out loud?

“I can handle myself just fine.”

Oh he knew that

Flashes of the bar fight filled his mind

it filled something else too 😏

so Aragorn had set himself a second goal  

besides getting Frodo and the ring to Mordor he now vowed to keep you safe as well

and to make you his by the time you would arrive at Mordor

but we all know how smooth that will go do we 

the first few days and weeks it went reasonably well 

you have to read that as ‘he didn’t embarass himself in front of you’

because there was no progress at all on any other front

you seemed to prefer the company of the Hobbits over him or any other member of the fellowship

he tried to make conversation with you every time you walked near him 

A+ for effort

when the Crebain flew over his instinct was to make sure Frodo (and Sam because those two were attached at the hip) was out of sight

after that he searched for you, but Legolas had already pulled you under the bushes with him

surely the feeling in his stomach was the fault of the Lembas bread

because Aragorn doesn’t get jealous

but then the same thing happened in Moria

you weren’t a fan of the dark and claustrophobic mines so he let you walk up front with Gandalf and Frodo near the light of Gandalf’s staff 

with him right behind you of course 

when the Orcs and Troll attacked, he tried to stay near you 

keep an extra eye out for you, driving the Orcs away who were trying to get to you

it was you together with Legolas who defeated the troll, high fiving each other over a job well done

okay fine maybe Aragorn did get jealous this time

like he had done his best to protect you but did you notice?

then when Gandalf fell you surprisingly turned to him for comfort

leaving Legolas, Gimli and Boromir to comfort the Hobbits

take that Leaf Boi

even though it felt really good to hold you, he knew you couldn’t stay there

so he ordered everyone to get going, taking the lead

and then Lothlorien happened

a forest that was both magical and romantic

perfect setting for a love confession right

when he finally got you alone he chickened out at the last moment

because OF cOUrsE

luckily for him you did not

you almost knocked him over in your attempt to kiss him  

he eagerly reciprocated the kiss though

no complaints there

but he also explained that even though he wanted this, the quest and Frodo had to come first

which you respected and understood, but you were also willing to test his resolve 👀

you didn’t tell the others 

but they didn’t need an explanation, it’s not like you two were subtle

he held your hand whenever he could 

Gimli couldn’t help but commenting on it, Aragorn explaining it was to prevent you from falling or tripping

“Lad, you’re sitting down in a boat...”

cue roaring laughter and flushed cheeks on Aragorn

although the fellowship supported your relationship they couldn’t help but tease Aragorn relentlessly

lots of sneaky forehead kisses

during the rest of the quest Aragorn did his best to keep you out of harm’s way 

to your own frustration of course, you weren’t helpless or as fragile as he made you seem

you fought alongside Boromir when Uglúk shot him 

they took Merry and Pippin and dragged you away from Boromir’s body

the one time Aragorn wasn’t at your side and you got kidnapped

you weren’t going to hear the end of this 

needless to say Aragorn was indeed beside himself with worry 

he couldn’t get a break 

first Frodo gone, then Boromir shot and now it seemed he failed his promise to himself

enter brooding Aragorn

but he knew you were brave and could take care of yourself - you had repeated that countless times - so he was sure he was going to find you 

AND HE DID

after three days of running with a dartling Elf and a wheezing Dwarf they bumped into Éomer and his horse gang

before he could ask Éomer if he saw you or the Hobbits, one of his riders jumped off their horse and made a beeline for him 

Legolas notched an arrow and Gimli raised his axe but you simply shoved them aside and threw your arms around Aragorn

relieved kisses 

the hug lasted several minutes until Legolas cleared his throat

oh right... audience

you shared a horse with Aragorn on the way to Edoras

while with King Théoden Aragorn kept an arm around your waist or a hand on the small of your back the entire time

as if he had to make sure you were still there

Éowyn who?

The Battle of Helm’s Deep was torture for Aragorn

he wanted to stay with you but you both knew you would be too distracted by each other 

it took him a while to find you after the battle was won 

few years of his life were lost in panic

but of course you were alright, already helping with the wounded

now it was his turn to sweep you off your feet

quite literally too 

as the quest progressed, it became clear to Aragorn that he had to take up his rightful place as the King of Gondor when the time came 

so during the victory feast after Helm’s Deep he took you outside for a walk

cue comments and whistling from Gimli 

but Aragorn only wanted to talk to you 

to make sure you knew what you were getting yourself into if you stayed with him 

were you ready to be the spouse of a King?

of course he made it seem as if he was going to ditch you 

because that man is angst embodied 

everything to keep you safe right?

luckily as soon as it was clear that no, he wasn’t going to ditch you and yes, this was kind of a hastily thrown together proposal in a way, you kissed him saying that as long as you were at his side you were ready for anything

as long as you were together

Aragorn taglist: @katethewriter @lovemusic26alwaysblog @sokkasdarling @snailcoveredcottage

Permanent taglist: @roosliefje @kata1803 @entishramblings @artsywaterlily @sleepy-daydream-in-a-rose @marvelschriss @kumqu4t @myrin1234 @dark-angel-is-back @the-fandoms-georgie @lathalea @xxbyimm @sokkasdarling @katethewriter @aredhel-of-gondolin @leethology @elvish-sky @moony-artnstuff @emmapotato8 @kirenia15 @vicmackeybullshxt @moarfandomtrash

[greensaplinggrace]

honestly THANK YOU for saying all that abt baghra bc i thought i was going crazy from not liking her??? bc i haven't read the books and only summaries of them on wiki and like. i dunno why ppl like her actually even in the show bc this guy, her son, is like "i wanna make the world better for us grisha" and she's just like "no." even tho he sees that she's MAKING HERSELF SICK from suppressing her powers! she's literally like in bed coughing in the flashback yet seem much healthier at the little palace. also like after everything, after her disapproval, after the fold, after centuries of waiting for the sun summoner.. he never abandons her. he makes sure she's cares for. he doesn't harm her. and i have to wonder if baghra has ever thanks him for that, for just not leaving her alone. like i dunno how im suppose ro believe aleks is a heartless villain when he still cares for his abusive mom like this. like has baghra even told her she loved him (honestly she reminds me of a classic emotionally unavailable asian parent but maybe that's just me). also im wondering if baghra ever told aleks that he had an aunt.. bc like.. now that u bring up her isolating him it's like hmmmm...

not at me being like alina... why do u trust the bitter old woman who literally beats u with a stick and verbally abuses u every chance she gets.. just bc she showed a bad painting... like.. pls use two braincells to see that who u figured out as his mother... is also using his protection..

like baghra could've upped and left with alina. but no. she stayed bc she knew she was safe under aleks's protection.

alsoim just impressed that after his first friend tried to drown him and harvest his bones... he didn't go into hiding???? he still wanted to make a safe heaven for grisha!!! HE STILL WANTED TO PROTECT GRISHA EVEN AFTER HIS GRISHA FRIEND TRIED TO KILL HIM FOR HIS FUCKEN BONES. like... this is the guy im suppose to believe is the villain???

honestly i feel like part of the reason why LB's plotlines seem so bad and disconnected (and sometimes outright racist but that's another rant) and why darkles is disproportionately more violent and villainous in the later books is bc she didn't expect the darkling to be so popular and wanted to stick with her guns of making him the villain. but also wanted the money from aleks's popularity. but like you can't have ur cake and eat it too.

Well thank you for sending this ask! It's very sweet and very passionate. I'm glad you liked my post! I didn't put as much thought into it as some of my others lol. I kind of just talked. But it was nice to be able to finally talk about some of the problems I have with both her character and the fandom/author's perception of her.

HERE is the post this is referring to, in case anyone's wondering.

👀👀 You've hit the nail on the head for so many things, here!

Baghra is extremely emotionally unavailable, basically to the point of neglect. She's also verbally and physically abusive, traits which I doubt were only reserved for her students and not her son. Baghra claims she would do anything to protect him, but I've known a lot of parents who have that mindset and yet still harm their children because they think it's "good for them".

Aleksander stays at Baghra's side for years, and even when they're opposing each other she's never too far away from him. Idk if you've read the books but he does eventually hurt her. And as much as I don't like Baghra, I think his actions were horrid. But I'm also honestly kind of surprised it took him so long lmao.

Yeah I mean, in terms of isolation, let's not forget that she never wanted to introduce him to his father, either. Baghra's sense of eternity clouds a lot of her judgments on relationships, which means she views most people as dust and therefore teaches her son to as well. The problem with that is that he's a growing child, and he needs those social and emotional attachments for healthy development.

I would bet quite a bit of money that Baghra has either never told him she loves him or she has told him so few times it's practically forgettable.

And everything becomes more complicated because so many of Baghra's actions are understandable because of her life and her history, but the impacts they have on the people around her, especially Aleksander, are permanently damaging. And the fact that that's never gone over in critical depth in the books or how it's glossed over in fandom is just very disconcerting. Like, acknowledging Baghra's failings doesn't mean we're excusing Aleksander's actions, it just means we're holding Baghra liable for her own. Which the fandom should be doing, considering she's the epitome of an abusive parental figure.

And Alina trusting Baghra over Aleksander is even more confusing! Especially in the show!! This is the woman who beat her and abused her and tortured her friends when they tiny little children (and who probably still does so now that they're adults). This is the woman who mocks you and harasses you and insults you on a regular basis. Why does Baghra revealing she's Aleksander's mother make Alina change her mind?! Like fuck, I'd just feel bad for Aleksander. No wonder he kept it a secret, I would too! And that painting is enough evidence?! Really?! A random painting shown to you by this abusive mentor that's been making your life hell. That's what you're going to betray your new lover over?

The friends trying to harvest his bones thing is a good point, too. I think Aleksander, especially show Aleksander, is incredibly idealistic. I think he cares too much for others - those he's deemed worth his care (a sentiment given to him by Baghra). Despite everything she's tried to teach him about hiding and abandoning others and never caring and never doing anything to help or reach out or connect with people, Aleksander still continues to do so. It's likely because he never got it from Baghra growing up, and so is desperate for those emotional needs to be fulfilled elsewhere.

His turning point, when Baghra tells him it was understandable that those kids tried to kill him because the world is such a hard place for them - that's crucial. And the reason it's possible as a motivating factor is because of that idealism and that desire to help and that desire to be everything his mother isn't. Baghra tells him this trauma he just experienced was because of the oppression of his people, and instead of following her lead and accepting that, going into hiding and abandoning everybody to their misery, he goes I can do something about that. I can make it so this never happens again. Which is usually how trauma like that combines with one's core personality traits at a young age, especially when there's none of the essential support systems in place to aid in recovery (ie, the role Baghra should have been filling but wasn't, because she decided to exacerbate the problem instead).

And yeah, one of my biggest problems with the ham-fisted "beating you over the head with a sledgehammer of evil deeds" look-how-bad-this-character-is! portrayal of the Darkling in the later books comes from the impression I get that Bardugo doesn't trust her readers. She's so desperate to have us hate this character and think him an irredeemable villain, not trusting any of her readers to engage critically with a morally gray character, that it feels quite a bit like condescending fucking bullshit. Which ew, I know how to engage with literature, thanks.

She really does seem to look down on a large part of her fandom, and imo, the infantilization of the female characters in her books seems to carry over to her impression of most of her female readers as well. Which is why the Darkling's character arc gets fucking destroyed. But he's still a good cash grab, of course, so she'll shake his dead corpse in front of the fandom for money every time she wants something from it.

Also! Another reason I think her plotlines feel disconnected (I'm sorry Bardugo I respect you as a person, but shit-) is because the writing in SaB is just bad. I mean, nevermind the absolutely nauseating implications of the way she portrays the Grisha as a persecuted group who's situation is never actually fully addressed as it should be, considering Grisha rights is what her main villain is fighting for (imo for a series called the Grishaverse, LB seems to be pretty anti Grisha), but her characters and story alone are just wrong for each other. They don't fit together.

And the ending is one of the main pieces of evidence in that regard! You can’t say the ending where Alina isn’t Grisha anymore is her “going back to where she started” when she’s always been Grisha. She just didn’t know she was Grisha because she denied that part of herself that she was born with.

Alina is reluctant to move forward or change, she struggles with adapting, and she’s very set on the things she’s grown attached to throughout her life. She also has some latent prejudices against the Grisha, and so denies the possibility of being Grisha for those reasons as well.

Alina’s lack of powers in the beginning of her life because she willfully doesn’t learn about them to avoid change versus her lack of powers at the end of the book when she’s accepted them and then they’re stripped away from her by outer forces are two entirely separate circumstances. You can’t make a parallel about lost powers and lack of Grisha status bringing her back to the start when she was always Grisha and she always had powers and she simply refused to come to terms with it because of personal reasons.

The first situation is an internal conflict that indicates a story about growth and a journey of self acceptance. Denying herself the opportunity to learn about her heritage and to find acceptance with a group of people like her because she’s tied to the past and because of the way she was raised is the setup for a narrative that tackles unlearning prejudice and learning how to connect with a part of her identity that was denied her and learning how to grow independent and self assured. It’s the setup for a different story entirely. The second situation is an external conflict that centers around the ‘corrupting influence of power’... for some reason.

In a world where Grisha do not have social, political, or economic power and they are hunted, centering your heroine’s journey of self acceptance and growth around an external conflict about... the corrupting influence of power (in a group of people that don’t actually have any power?!) just doesn’t work. It is literally impossible to connect the two stories Bardugo is trying to push in Shadow and Bone without seriously damaging the main character’s developmental arc.

The only way a narrative like this would work, claiming that she has gone back to where she started, is either a) if the Grisha weren’t actually a persecuted group and instead were apart of the upper class, or b) if the one bad connection between the two instances is acknowledged - that Alina denied a part of herself crucial to self acceptance and growing up, and that losing her powers at the end has also denied her. It is a tragedy, not a happy ending.

Alina suffered because she didn’t use her powers. She grew sick. It was bad for her. This was not a resistance to 'the corruption of power and the burden of greed', it was her suffering because she couldn’t fully accept herself.

Framing the ending as a return to the beginning can’t be done if you don’t address how bad the beginning was for your main character. You brought her back to a bad point in her life. You regressed her. This should be a low point in her arc. It should be a problem that’s solved so she can finish developing organically or it should be something that is acknowledged as a tragedy in it’s own right, for the future the world (the writing) denied her.

This is a ramble and it makes no sense and I’m really sorry, but my point is that Bardugo put the wrong characters in the wrong story. The character arc required for organic development doesn’t match the story and intended message at all. The narrative doesn’t fit the cast. She's got two clashing stories attempting to work in tandem and she ends up with both conflicting messages that fans still can’t comprehend in her writing and an ending that doesn’t suit her main character to such an impossible degree that it’s almost laughable.

So yeah, there's a few reasons why I think the story and the plot feels so bad and disconnected. I hope you don't mind me making this answer so long! 😅 I was not expecting to write this much.

[strange-lace]

Macaque

I was in the mood to make more content for Inverted AU, so here’s a short-ish fic of how episode 9 would go in this AU with Macaque, Wukong, and MK! Enjoy the shadowpeach!

Another demon defeated but still no sign of Sun Wukong. Macaque let out a sigh before rolling his shoulders to bring relief to tense muscles. Oh well, he'll just have to keep looking, not like he hasn't been at it for years now. At least this city he wandered to was quite nice with pleasant people, nothing too out there aside from demon attacks.

"Hey! Hey you! Shadow monkey man!" Macaque wouldn't deny that the sudden voice made him jump, considering he was on top of a pretty tall building. Apparently not tall enough to stop the young man from climbing up the side, somewhat out of breath yet that didn't deter from the determined look on his face. He simply brushed his messy hair out of his eyes and adjusted his teal backpack, which looked surprisingly heavy. Macaque couldn’t help but be somewhat curious as to what was in that thing.

Wait was that the Monkey King's staff in his hands?

Indeed it was, he'd recognize that weapon anywhere.

“Ah, you must be the Monkie Kid I’ve been hearing so much about, am I right?” That got him a look of suspicion before the young man also seemed to remember the staff in his hands, causing him to let out an amused huff at his own paranoia.

“Yeah, the staff kind of gives it away, don’t it? Name’s MK though. Now whomst is you? Most of the time, demons who ask me who I am are five seconds away from trying to kill me.” Macaque couldn’t help but chuckle at that, already finding that he was starting to like this little guy and his attitude. Perhaps if a person like MK was chosen to wield Wukong’s staff, then perhaps that meant his love had finally started turning things around for the better. Maybe it meant he finally stopped being someone he wasn’t all for the sake of keeping a memory alive.

“The name’s Macaque, though, the Six-Eared Macaque is actually my full name. But what brings you up here exactly bud? I doubt you’d climb up this high just for anybody.” MK’s face showed that he wanted to argue that point out of principle before remembering his purpose for coming up here.

“Simple, teach me.”

Wait what?

“What what?” MK scoffed at the question.

“I want you to teach me to fight, like how you fought that demon back there. I don’t intend on leaving you alone until you do and that is a threat!” Macaque didn’t doubt that he meant it that way and could very easily follow through on that. Sensing he wasn’t going to get out of this, he let out a sigh before giving MK a smile.

“You sure your mentor won’t have a problem with me teaching you?”

“Bold of you to assume Wukong’s disapproval will stop me.”

“Well alright then, I think we’re gonna get along just fine, bud.”

---

“I see what you’re trying to do, you’re afraid of holding back and giving your enemy the opportunity to win. But the first strike isn’t the most important one. Every strike counts. Other people may tell you that patience and focus don’t matter but a fool allows himself to rush without restraint. While you have power inside you, you have to use it carefully. Take the power to defend others, not just destroy those who stand in your way. You’re not a weapon kid, you wield the weapon above all else.”

---

It started with a fairly innocent question from MK after one of their training sessions, him slowly going through a water bottle given to him by Macaque while the monkey made them something to eat. He needed a distraction to stop himself from taking over the cooking, years of feeding others making him feel guilt the moment someone else took over.

“So Mac, how exactly do you know the Monkey King?” To his credit, Macaque only fumbled the slightest bit at that sudden question and was able to save the plate before it crashed to the floor.

“Oh um well… funny thing about that is, well… we used to be together actually. Like y’know… together-together,” he explained while he plated their food, wincing internally at how awkward he sounded. With his back towards MK, Macaque didn’t notice him go tense and grip the couch arm so tightly that the wood underneath cracked at the pressure.

“Used to be together, huh? What happened?” Macaque couldn’t help but shiver at the chill which traveled down his spine. MK’s voice was perfectly even and calm yet he was filled with an overwhelming fear that warned him to not turn around and remain perfectly still until the danger passed.

His ears twitched at the sound of sparks behind him, magic power permeating through the air.

“I… I messed up honestly. We had an argument about something, I don’t even remember what it was so long ago. But I had to leave to just get some space and air before I said something I’d regret, something I couldn’t take back. It was only meant to be a couple hours but some stuff out of my control happened and by the time I got back… Wukong was gone. I had been looking for him for centuries after that and then… well then you found me.”

“What, you hoped getting on my good side would mean that you’d win the Monkey King back?” His tone promised nothing good if Macaque kept digging himself a deeper hole.

“No! No, nothing like that at all. I don’t expect Pe-...Wukong to take me back or anything like that. I just… wanted the chance to apologize to him is all. If he wants anything to do with me afterwards, then I want that to be his choice. Nothing more, I swear.”

MK remained silent behind him before the sudden tension in the air dissipated as quickly as it appeared. Macaque let out a sigh of relief, slowly turning around to see MK still sitting on his couch, placing the staff back in his ear nonchalantly.

“Fair enough, sounds like you both were just idiots who don’t know how to communicate. If you actually intended on using me to get to the Monkey King, you’d have actually mentioned him during our training and yet you haven’t. And you can’t lie to save your life anyway. Just don’t be an idiot again alright? Monkey King… Wukong, he’s a mess and I don’t think he could handle thinking he’s been abandoned again.”

Macaque could feel his heart break at the idea that his Peaches, his love, thought that he had left permanently. He wanted nothing more than to run to him now and make things right. But that was Wukong’s decision to make, nobody else’s.

The two ate their food in silence after that.

---

Sun Wukong may have supposedly “lost his edge”  but he was by no means dense or oblivious.

And while he was certainly happy about his successor’s vast improvement over the past couple weeks, a part of him sensed something was off. Like his successor was hiding something from him. And those moves he watched MK use to absolutely demolish the old mural, the Monkey King swore he had seen them before.

But it couldn’t possibly be. He hadn’t seen him in centuries. Not since he… left, like everyone else.

“I’m impressed, my boy! Tell me, how did you do that? Have you been seeing another mentor perhaps?” Wukong asked, his typically serene smile straining the slightest bit at the idea of his son student learning from someone who wasn’t him. The sensible part of his brain was gently poking at him, reminding him that it seemed silly to get upset about such a thing as, if anything, MK had appeared significantly calmer during their training compared to when they started. This could be a good thing, it told him.

Yet it was silenced by the majority of his brain which ran on fatherly protectiveness and had immediately been plagued by images of the worst case scenario. A demon had approached MK, promising him to make him stronger while also poisoning his student as a bid to turn him against the Monkey King before stealing his powers or, Heavens forbid, harming him.

No, Wukong refused to even allow a chance of that happening, logic and reasoning be damned.

“Hey, you’re the one always going on about ‘patience and focus’, I’m just finally putting what you said into practice,” MK answered, the picture of being casual which only set off further alarm bells within Wukong’s head. But before he could question him further, MK’s phone dinged to tell him of a new text message which he quickly read over, his eyes widening slightly at the message.

“Welp, looks like I gotta cut things short for now Wukong, something came up and I gotta head out. See ya later! Don’t forget to eat something tonight and sleep, I will know if you don’t.” And with that, MK was off through the hole he had created in the wall where the mural was before the Monkey King could get a word in edgewise. 

Wukong waited long enough to allow MK to get a reasonable distance away before transforming into a bird, flying after his successor.

Something fishy was going on and the Monkey King was determined to find out what it was.

---

“Why exactly are we climbing up to this giant mountain again Mac?” MK wheezed, hating to admit it but this hike had genuinely winded him despite all his training. He had immediately gone to Macaque’s place the moment he got his text only to be told to follow the six-eared demon, leading them to where they were now.

“Well, consider this your ‘final exam’ bud! I want you to use everything I’ve taught you to fight against me, no holding back. Think you can do that?” MK couldn’t help the twitch at the corners of his mouth at the sight of Macaque’s genuine excitement as he explained, all six ears twitching while his tail was wagging like a dog. A demon who was centuries old and had fought countless powerful demons had no right looking that endearing, but here MK was looking with his own two eyes.

MK gave a chuckle before straightening himself out, wordlessly pulling the staff out his ear.

“You sure you’re comfortable getting your ass kicked by me, Mac?” With a smirk, Macaque summoned his own weapon in a flash of purple with the beginning of two shadow clones pooling at his feet. They shyly peeked from the ground from behind their master.

“Oho, a couple training sessions with me for a month and you think you have what it takes to defeat me, bud? Well then, bring it Monkie Kid!” MK didn’t hesitate to charge forward with Macaque mirroring him, weapons at the ready and adrenaline already running through their veins.

“Enough!”

A sudden force landed in between them with enough force to send them both flying backwards.

MK and Macaque recovered in time to see who decided to interrupt their duel.

Both of their hearts nearly stopped at the sight of the enraged Monkey King but for vastly different reasons.

“You have 5 seconds to explain yourself for trying to harm my-” Wukong’s rage quickly deflated as the dust cleared enough for him to truly see who it was he had thought was attacking MK. “Mango Flower?”

“Um… hello again, Peach Blossom. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Macaque joked, voice weak as he restrained himself from acting out of bounds even if he wanted nothing more than to gather the other into his arms. It had been so long, far too long. 

He nearly broke at the sight of tears beginning to form in Wukong’s eyes.

His resolve finally shattered as the Monkey King ran towards him, arms outstretched, and before Macaque knew it his legs were moving on their own. The wind was knocked out of him at how tight Wukong squeezed him yet he returned the embrace back with gusto, ignoring the groaning of his ribs. He simply buried his face into the other’s fur, the smell of peaches still there even after all these years. Faintly, Macaque realized he was also crying once he felt a wetness on his cheeks.

Macaque let out a squeak in surprise as Wukong picked him up in the hug and spun him around, the sound of his laughter echoing throughout the mountain. The sight of such unabashed joy on his face was enough to make the six-eared demon to start laughing too, joy contagious in the best of ways. 

MK would deny it unless under the threat of death but he couldn’t help but smile as he watched the two monkeys get lost in their own little world. It made the guilt which nagged at his chest at having to manipulate the two to make this meeting happen ease up, seeing how happy the two were.

“It’s been so long…” Wukong whispered as he placed Macaque back on his feet, gently cradling his face as if afraid that if he stopped touching the other, that he’d disappear again. “But, why are you here? I had thought that you hated me, isn’t that why you…” Macaque went stiff in shock before taking the Monkey King’s hands into his own.

“What? No! If anything, I thought you hated me for leaving instead of talking things out and that’s why you were gone when I came back. I always intended on coming back to you Peaches, I swear on it.” Wukong’s eyes went wide at that, extremely close to crying again a second time that day. “I had been looking for you for centuries now to apologize.”

And now the warm feeling was gone, leaving MK to bite down on his staff to stop himself from screaming at how much those two had failed at the simple of communication.

“We’ve both been absolutely foolish, haven’t we?” Wukong couldn’t help but laugh at it all, which only worsened as he noticed all six of Macaque’s ears turn red in embarrassment.

“Yeah, I guess we have been-” His words were cut off as the Monkey King grabbed his scarf, pulling him into a sudden kiss that made Macaque jolt in surprise before he practically melted into the other’s arms. A purr rumbled in his chest and neither noticed their tails wind around each other.

The sound of MK clearing his throat, loudly, was enough to get them to break apart in embarrassment.

“If you two are done being romantic idiots, I have to beat the shit out of Macaque to prove that I’m better than him. I mean ace my ‘final exam’.” The grin on his face showed that he was lying through his teeth.

“Don’t think I forgot about all your trash talking, young man. How about it Peach Blossom? You willing to go all out with me and the kid?” 

Wukong’s face was the epitome of ‘Every part of my body wants to say yes but I shouldn’t.’ He was already terrible at saying no to MK and now with Macaque’s endearingly earnest face, he knew he was done for, at least with these two working together now.

“...Oh alright.”

The two mutual cheers at his agreement made Wukong feel slightly less guilty in letting his lessons go for a brief moment. But not completely.

But that was okay, Wukong was used to living with constant guilt.

[milliethekitty27-writing]

The Ladder

In a hole in the ground, there lived a lonely hobbit. It all started when Bilbo grew tired of his empty kitchen.

He hadn’t been fond of eating alone since the dwarves destroyed his pantry, but he hadn’t after Frodo joined him in Bag End. He’d eaten with the elves in Rivendell, which had been full of lovely music and pleasant conversation, and then he’d eaten with the elves, Frodo, and Gandalf when they’d traveled to the Undying Lands.

Now he was here, in Yavanna’s Garden, living in what was basically Bag End. (the actual Bag End was right next door for his parents) He had his beautiful garden back, which only mattered really because he’d been brought back to his youthful self with working hands. The house was always clean (and he’d never really liked cleaning, so that didn’t matter much to him) so he had all the time in the world to work on his maps and his stories. He got the occasional social call from neighbors or family. He ate dinner with his parents on Thursdays and went over to their home on Sundays for family nights with many cousins and aunts and uncles, but he spent the rest of his time alone. He got the same whispers he had in the Shire, but he was satisfied with his cooking and working in the garden. Except… on the days there were no social calls, no family dinners, Bilbo Baggins sat in a very quiet house and talked to nothing.

“You know-” Bilbo said to no one in particular as he weeded a particularly stubborn patch of grass out from underneath his rose bush. There was a basket of tomatoes ready to be made into a sauce, or maybe used the fish tonight, but he’d seen the weeds and wanted to deal with it before it spread. “-I would have expected the garden to take care of itself when I died. Not to be doing the same tasks as before. But here we are, fighting with weeds, aren’t we Tho-” Bilbo stopped, shook his head, and pushed that thought aside. 

He made dinner for fourteen but only ate for one. The rest got put away for the multitudes of meals of the next day, but almost five years after he’d died he found himself looking at the empty table with a frown.

The next morning he perused his bookshelf until he found a collection of stories. From there, he found tales of the dwarves. He sat in his armchair until a collection of cousins knocked on the door and pulled him away, but he found what he was looking for when he was waiting for a peach pie to bake.

Dwarves belief that they return to the halls of Mahal upon their deaths. From there, they await the Final Battle. Upon the arrival of that day, they will be sent back to rebuild Arda, but until then the dwarves rest in their creator’s halls. 

Bilbo hemmed over that. He wandered down to where most of the Tooks lived, asking if they had any maps or had heard of the Halls before. It was a bit of a long shot, and he wasn’t surprised when they all said no. He returned to his smial and examined his garden. 

“Well-” he said to the same problematic patch of clover that refused to leave. “-I know that dwarves do like their underground tunnels and their mines. And if the Green Lady is married to the Smith, then it stands to reason that they might go underground nearby. I don’t think there’s any harm in looking, I’ll just get a bit dirty and ruin my garden, and I do that on the regular. Or I’ll fall into a great underground river and run back into Gollum.” Bilbo sighed, then went to see if he could borrow Hamfast’s good shovel.

There was a patch of yard in the back Bilbo had been planning on planting carrots in, but he had a better idea now. He wiggled his toes in the cool earth, nodded, and stretched out his shoulders. Then Bilbo Baggins put his shovel into the soil and started to dig.

It took quite a bit of time, but he didn’t get as tired as he had in his old age and he didn’t have to take as many breaks. Death might mean you didn’t have to eat, or sleep, but it was routine, and he had dinner with his parents that were tradition. One day, maybe, he’d be able to bring more than just himself and whatever his mother wanted him to bring for dessert, but he pushed the idea of muddy boots and braids out of his mind in favor of helping his mother finish up the roast. 

“What are you doing, Bilbo?” his father asked during one dinner. “Gorbadoc says he hasn’t seen you at the Green Dragon in some time.” 

“I’m digging a tunnel.” Bilbo said matter of factly. “I’m going to try to find the halls of Mahal.” His parents looked at each other for a minute. 

“What for?”

“I… suppose it’s just because I can.”

“Have you considered asking the faunts?” Belladonna suggested as she took a second helping of mashed potatoes. “I’m sure they’d be more than thrilled to be asked to ruin a garden.” Bilbo considered that.

“I think this something I want to do myself.”

Bilbo digged and digged. The hole was big enough for him to stand in rather comfortably, though he had to dig some stair-like notches into the side so he could get in and out. It took almost a week of non-stop digging to reach literal rock bottom, and then he was left with a conundrum. He’d dented Hamfast’s good shovel, so he returned it with an apology and a promise to pay him back, but would Hamfast please lend him a good pickaxe?

Bilbo woke up that next morning with arms that were incredibly sore and demanded he take a day, if not more, off. He agreed. The dwarves had waited this long, they could wait a bit longer. Bilbo went to market, got a drink, avoided questions about what he was up to, dodged a few nosy grandparents, and returned home with arms full of goods. The next day he baked an apology pie for the Gamgees and sent his mother and father cookies, lounging for the rest of the afternoon with a good book. On the third day his arms didn’t yell at him for raising them above his head, so Bilbo hoisted his pickaxe. 

“How’s your hole going?” Belladonna asked as she took out a tart to cool. It was nearly time for the harvest festivals. Hobbits loved to work in their fields and grow their goods, and that meant the harvest festivals of the Shire still went on. That meant competitions (his mother was entering a lovely pumpkin she’d been growing all year, while his father was entering in a poetry competition) and baking, canning for the winter, and family time. 

“Rather well, I like to think!” Bilbo gave the bread he was kneading one last good push. “I think I’ve nearly reached it, the rocks started to change to the next type of rock underground that I read about in the book that Adamantius lent me last week. It’s supposed to mean you’ve gotten to the next layer or… something. The book was rather complicated. I suppose I’ll just have to see what happens.”

“Maybe you’ll have it fixed in time for the summer planting competitions.” His father brushed his hands off on an apron as he came in from the garden with a basket of potatoes, placing them on the counter and taking a moment to kiss Belladonna’s cheek. For a moment Bilbo wondered if soon he’d be seeing his dwarves, be able to kiss one particular cheek, but he pushed those thoughts aside. It was possible he was nowhere near being able to see his dwarves, but that was a thought he’d deal with when he came to it. He was nothing if not practical, as a Baggins (no, Baggins weren’t actually practical, he knew that now, but don’t bother telling the Baggins side that) and he didn’t want to consider that what if.

“Maybe.” he ceded. “But I’m hoping that I’ll be able to make it a permanent feature.”

Bilbo returned to his hole the day after the festivals had finally finished. His larder was filled to bursting, along with all his storage rooms, and he was just planning on doing a little bit of work before settling in with a nice book. 

That plan fell a bit short, though. He drove his pickaxe in rather deeply and the earth suddenly crumbled all around him. Bilbo let out a yell as he fell through a suddenly rather large hole, landing with a rather sharp thwack on something… surprisingly soft. 

When he looked around, he found that he was surrounded by an incredible amount of short, bearded people wearing multiple colors and gems. 

Dwarves. 

He looked up and found an incredible amount of sunlight falling on him, along with a decent amount of dirt. 

It seemed he’d found the Halls of Mahal. Now the question was how to get back to Yavanna’s Gardens. 

...he’d cross that road when he got to it. For now, he had dwarves to find, and, uh, oh dear. The dwarf he was sitting on didn’t look very happy. He jumped off of the poor dwarf’s back.

“I’m so terribly sorry-” Bilbo offered the dwarf a hand. They were covered in braids, with long black hair, and Bilbo tried to dust them off once they were up. “-I had no idea I’d almost broken through like that, I would’ve given some warning.”

“You’re what’s been making all that noise?” a dwarf behind him said. Bilbo turned on his heel. This dwarf was dressed like a miner. 

“I beg your pardon?”

“The noise-” the dwarf gestured at the ceiling. “-for the past month, we’ve been getting this awful banging- that’s coming from you? But you’re a halfling!” There was a great deal of yelling at that as the crowd of dwarves surrounding Bilbo all realized what he was. Bilbo felt his cheeks heated up with rage. 

“What do you mean a halfling fell through the ceiling?!” someone bellowed after several minutes where Bilbo couldn’t get his voice loud enough. There was a great deal of pushing through the crowd and Bilbo offered another apology to the poor dwarf he’d probably concussed in his fall. 

“I’ll have you know I’m not half of anything!” He said loudly into the suddenly silent hall, but there was a further commotion.

“That’s not just a halfling that our halfling!” Bofur, that was Bofur, he knew that voice. A bald dwarf covered in tattoos practically rammed his way through the crowd and there were all his dwarves, looking alive and well and whole, no blood or funeral garb, no sorrowful letters or tearful tales from Frodo about bodies and ancient stone walls. He was hugging them, pinching cheeks and smiling as wide as he had in some time. He did a quick head count - twelve. Where was thirteen, where was-

Oh.

There he was. 

Thorin was standing at the other end of the mass of dwarves in the hall, firelight glinting off the silver in his hair and around his neck. There was no sign of gold or bronze, just silver. He practically blended into the cave wall in his nearly black clothes but Bilbo met those beautiful blue eyes and something just clicked. He was covered in dirt, and in his gardening clothes. He looked a mess, he was sure of it, but Thorin was looking at him in a way that made his breath catch in his throat. 

“Master Burglar.” Thorin’s voice rumbled across the nearly silent crowd. 

A moment later he and Bilbo met in the center of the path, both having run as fast as their feet could carry them. Bilbo’s fingers curled into the thick, wiry hair and he inhaled the smell that was undeniably Thorin. 

“I thought I told you to call me Bilbo.” he said in a thick voice after a moment. “Or should I be calling you your majesty?”

“No.” Thorin said instantly. He shook his head and Bilbo felt the gentle thuds as beads connected with his skull. “No. Never you.” 

They looked at each other for a moment. Thorin didn’t have the wrinkles around his face anymore, the silver in his hair was less than it had been, but there was still that shadowed look in his eyes. Bilbo took a quick breath, then leaned up and kissed his cheek like his father kissed his mother’s, like he’d been thinking about for ages and ages. 

“Hello.” he whispered. “Hello, Thorin Oakenshield.”

“Hello, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.” Thorin’s face was flushed now, but he reached up and brushed his thumb along Bilbo’s jaw. 

“That counts as a kiss!” someone bellowed. There was a loud thud and the dwarf, definitely Nori, yelped. “That hurt!” 

“Bilbo can we get a boat through your hole?” Fili called. A moment later there was a thud and both Fili and Kili were there, smushing Bilbo into the center of a Durin family hug. 

“A bo- what do you need a boat for?”

“I want to find Tauriel.” Kili sounded elated. “If you could get through, then she-”

“Boys, I have to get back up myself, I can’t just pull up a boat-”

“What about cheese?” Bofur piped up. Bilbo realized that the entire company had encircled him. He was surrounded in a mass of dwarves. Stinky, hugging-too-tight, wonderful dwarves that he’d missed. “Bombur’s been talking about that recipe you sent him-”

“He sent me dozens of recipes, you’ll have to be more specific-” Bombur started. 

“I told you he could break in, I don’t know why you’re still not giving me money!” that was Nori again, directed at Balin.

“These are the Halls-” Balin began.

“Bullshit, this is Bilbo, he stole from a dragon! This is all in a day’s work for him!” 

“Have you seen my Gimli up there?” That was Gloin. “You know, my beautiful laddy, with the curly red hair and the most beautiful eyes, I haven’t been able to find him and we haven’t heard anything about him in a long time for a while, I’m starting to get worried-”

“He just got here, Gloin, don’t start yelling about your kid again-” that was a voice he didn’t totally recognize but he saw Bifur without an axe and grinning widely as he spoke. 

Bilbo looked back up at Thorin, who was smiling at him in a way that made him come into focus and drown everything else out. 

“I’m glad to see you, Bilbo.” 

“I’m glad to see you too.” Bilbo smiled back at him. His dwarf reached up as if to touch his face again, but faltered.

“We’ve… we’ve got a lot to talk about.” 

“We do.” Bilbo agreed. “Bu-”

“Bilbo?” Someone shouted down the hole. He recognized his mother after a moment. He struggled out of the throng of dwarves much like a whale breaching for air. There was a shadow over the patch of sunlight from above, bits of dirt trickling in. 

“I’m fine!” he yelled back. “Be careful, it’s a pretty hard landing at the bottom, I don’t want you to slip!”

“Wait that’s the burglar?” someone in the crowd said. There was a loud shushing noise, a thwap, and an ow. 

“Are you hurt?”

“No, Mum, I’m alright!”

“Wait is that your mother?!” Kili and Fili said together. 

“Did you find your dwarves?”

“I’m going to regret this-” Bilbo sighed, then he pitched his voice back up high. “I fell but I’m alright, I just didn’t realize how far down I was!” He paused for a moment, then shouted back. “Do we still have the apple picking ladders?”

“I’m sure we can dig one up-” there was his father. Poor Bungo was probably tearing his hair out. “-are you hurt?”

“No, he’s not, he said he’s alright-” his mother’s voice was muffled. “-we’ll go check, darling, stay out of trouble!” 

“Can you throw down some cheese?” Bofur shouted. 

“Bofur!”

“Oh some apples would be lovely.” Dori sighed. 

“And some apples!” Bofur yelled a bit louder. 

“Just send down his whole larder!” Kili yelled. “And a boat! I need the hole to be big enough for a boat!”

In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. This hole was comfortable, and warm, and cozy. It was also full of Bilbo Baggins’ things. This hobbit had lived a remarkable life and thus his home was quite remarkable in many ways, but the most intriguing bit about this hole was the larger hole in the backyard. It was surrounded by stones, with a lovely set of carved steps going up to the house. It led to a sturdy but worn wooden ladder that had been used for apple picking but now served to connect the Halls of Mahal to Gardens of Yavanna. This ladder fell in the center of a massive stone hall, which was filled with flowers that hobbits would come down to tend to. The two races regularly wandered through Bilbo Baggins’ garden to meet - dwarves would come up for market day bearing gifts and coins, eyeing steaming bread and crisp red apples, while some of the more adventurous hobbits would slide down the ladder to inquire about repairs for their tools. 

For Bilbo, though, this hole meant so much more. It meant thirteen dwarves crashing into his house ridiculously early in the morning to nag him into making them breakfast. It meant having his family, blood and not, over for dinner. It meant listening to his mother talk with Dori and Balin about tea, to his father engage Fili and Ori into long tales of age-old tales. It eventually meant Kili tugging a tall, red-haired elf into Bag End no. 2, covered in water while a tired Fili collapsing into a chair complaining that Kili and Tauriel hadn’t stopped making doe-eyes at each other. 

It meant that, after a long conversation with tears and laughter and shy touches, Bilbo made dinner with a dwarf that made him laugh as he stole pie filling and got flour on his nose and in his beard. It meant that Bilbo would come back to market to find someone frowning on his porch with little metal bits twisted in his lap as he worked on making ornaments for Bilbo’s garden. It meant that Bilbo Baggins woke up next to Thorin Oakenshield, one hand tangled in that beautiful dark hair. It meant that they sat on the bench under the oak tree and blew smoke rings into the setting sun, holding hands.

When Frodo Baggins finally entered Yavanna’s Gardens, he found his uncle beaming like he hadn’t in years, with a braid in his curls and a ring on his finger. There were thirteen dwarves in the living room, and Frodo was just in time for tea.

---

Thanks for reading!

This is based off of a post made by @wheeloffortune-design about Bilbo digging his way into Halls of Mahal, which has literally been living in my brain since I read it. (and @gallusrostromegalus put down some delightfully funny comments that also made my day) So… here we are. You can find the post here, assuming the link works!

The AO3 link is here!

man i love bagginshield. 

[mlwritingprompts]

Submitted prompt: This plot point will make writers weep.

(My prompt's name is horrible lol)

-----

"Using more than one miraculous will make you lose your mind"

AU in which this supposedly important piece of the lore is actually important, just not in the way Fu expected.

So after dealing with Kwamibuster, and going to sleep believing everything is okay...

Marinette finds herself in a dimension where nothing but colors exist, and with only two persons in her field of vision.

Two figures who seemingly looked exactly like her, except one looked like she was wearing her civilain clothes with a sweet and innocent expression, with the other donning an armor of sorts while looking serious just like how Marinette looks when fighting as Ladybug.

With no Tikki around for some reason, Marinette decides that she should talk to the two.

After talking with them, she discovered some very complicated truths.

First, the simultaneous use of two (or more) miraculouses did kid-of fracture her mind into different identities of sort, with the two in front of her being the more dominant ones:

The one looking like a knight is her sense of responsibility and duty, and she also focuses heavily on using logic and ignoring any feelings of favouritism and bias towards others while still being compassionate and caring.

The other one is her desire to simply be a kid and have fun, being awkward, making jokes, and wanting to enjoy the days in peace with her friends.

Second, all of them are apparently able to talk to each other even if she is awake, and while they will generally let Marinette alone and make her own choices, they might sometimes make a remark if they feel that her judgement is clouded or flawed (wether it's due to being impulsive or due to being manipulated into thinking a certain idea or opinion).

Like when Adrien guilt trips her into forgiving Chloe, they will tell Marinette that HER happiness can and will be more important than her crush's needs, especially if his needs means that Marinette harms herself for his sake.

Or if the girlsquad pressure her into some crazy shipping plot, they tell her that it's not good to allow them to do as the girls want, and that she has every right to not accept a plan if she doesn't want to. If they care, they would understand and give her space.

Or if Adrien harasses her as Chat Noir, they tell her that if he doesn't stop, she might as well retire him. Because it's not like there aren't more loyal and serious heroes she can make into permanent heroes or anything.

Or if she was burdened by things she does for others, she has every right to tell them "NO", and yes, that also means tat she can totally stop doing errands for Fu (TF Fu!? I thought you were more responsible than that!?)

They will also tell her when her jealousy is trying to pop out and that she should watch out, take a breath, and calm down, and think properly.

Namely, the story will have Marinette wise up to how messed up the people around her are (Adrien, Chloe, the adults), and will become more critical of her own shortcomings while slowly overcoming the toxic morals and lessons that were ingrained into her person.

Wether other people acknowledge this change as a good thing or bad, is up to you.

Rules for the blog - send a prompt

Oh I love this!

[danteinthedevildom]

Dude your stuff is absolutely amazing, I meant every word. And now I have the confidence to request something! So, in the anime MC is being portrayed as an actual sheep, which I still think is genius. But what do you think about “Sheep”!MC? Super short and cute, with the fluffy pink hair, totally harmless looking. Buuuut despite barely being able to fight, they’re always ready to attack a demon, even if it’s one of the brothers. I dunno, the idea of a tiny MC trying to punch Lucifer for insulting Mammon popped into my head like a month ago and hasn’t left me alone since lmao

I absolutely LOVE the concept of absolutely tiny MC always ready to go even though it's absolutely, probably a death wish, and I will go through, in extensive detail, the reasons why.

Note: this post is written for Gender Neutral MC and uses they/them pronouns!

+ In general, I like to imagine that demons are just Naturally Taller than most humans, so something like 5ft 10 would actually be super tiny to them. "Sheep"!MC being smaller than that would be a genuine novelty - they're so tiny, that's just... not something they really come across in the Devildom? Even baby animals are larger than them, in some cases, which really just highlights how helpless their new human charge is - but it would also quickly present itself to be a complete NIGHTMARE that none of them considered.

+ On the first day at R.A.D. Mammon spends ten frantic minutes trying to find a very, very tiny human in a crowd of comparably giant demons because he took his eyes off of them for one (1) second, and apparently that was long enough for them to scarper off. Who knew such tiny legs could move so fast!

+ Eventually, he finds "sheep"!MC cornered by demons. That's bad enough, of course, except then, as he nears them, he watches with abject horror (and a little respect) as the tiny human tries to headbutt one of their assailants. Surprisingly, it works - though that might be because they're on perfect height to get the demon directly in the stomach. Not enough to incapacitate them, but enough that the demon's surprised, which means now "sheep"!MC can run!

+ "Sheep"!MC does not run. In fact, "sheep"!MC does the complete opposite: they stand their ground and... okay, it's hard to tell through the thick curls covering their eyes, but Mammon's pretty sure they're staring the demons down? Okay. Little human's got guts. Which might become more than metaphorical if the little human doesn't run like hell.

+ In the end, he has to save them before they really do get gutted. Just a little pressure from his aura, a quick, snappy line, and bam - those lesser demons are running off with their tails between their legs (quite literally, for one of them). He absolutely expects to be thanked for saving them - how heroic, right? He actually did his job! - but instead, as he's gloating, they just. Stamp on his foot. It doesn't hurt (like, honestly, he barely even felt it), but the sheer audacity of it stuns him into silence. They even look mad at him!

+ This tends to happen... a lot, actually. By the end of their first day, there's a plethora of tales running about the academy of the tiny, frail human who keeps trying to attack demons. They even tried to bite one! The brothers think it's hyperbolic at first, but a rather shaken Simeon later informs them that it's completely true; he had to physically grab their cape a few times to stop them from leaping over their desk to deck a demon in the few classes they shared together.

+ Looking after "sheep"!MC is a full-House job. They have a tendency to sneak away whenever any of the brothers look away for even a fraction of a section. It's even happened to Lucifer a few times, much to his absolute bafflement. The truth of it is that "sheep"!MC's so small, it's very easy for them to get drawn into crowds and accidentally bumped away from the brothers. They don't always intend to get separated from them (though sometimes they definitely do), but when it does happen, they don't exactly... rush to find their caretaker again. In fact, they tend to just wander 'round the halls, chest puffed out and chin up, acting like they're ten feet tall and not just barely brushing hip-height on some of the larger demons.

+ Some of them have found out that it's actually better to just hold onto "sheep"!MC somehow. Whether that means holding onto their wrist (Mammon), their hand (Asmo), or their shoulder (Satan), they can at least feel the moment "sheep"!MC tries to slip away and tug them back towards them - often very grumpily, which leads to them very ineffectually trying to dig their heels in.

+ Naturally, they're not scared of the brothers, either. If anyone tries to pick them up, they will attack - often with kicks and punches, but also with vicious attempts to scratch at any bared skin and tug on hair. Most of them can ignore it or at least hold "sheep"!MC at arm's length, but it does mean they're squirmy as hell, which makes carrying them a challenge. Asmo's really the only one who still tries to pick them up for fun - the others mostly do it if they've tried to run away too much or if they need to get somewhere quickly - but even he's a little more cautious of it after getting his hair yanked a few times too many.

+ The sheer audacity of their bravery knows no bounds, and it's... kind of cute, sometimes. They've punched Mammon in the shoulder for being a dick before, and while it doesn't hurt, the fact that they do it without fear for their limbs - or their life, in general - is just. Amazing, actually. They don't even have qualms with gently kicking Mammon to make him budge up on the sofa, or trying to shove him off the bed with their feet when he takes up too much space (which doesn't work, ever, but it's hilarious, and sometimes he slides off the bed just to make them feel better).

+ What isn't so cute are the times they come between the brothers. That's... terrifying, actually. In general, y'know, when the brothers aren't actually going to hurt each other - when they're just being demons, and brothers, and there's no (permanent) harm intended - "sheep"!MC still comes in to defend the brothers they're closest to. Mostly it's Mammon, because of course it is; he's the one they spend most of their time with, and he's the one who gets targeted most. It makes sense that they jump to his defence, throwing cutlery if it happens at breakfast/dinner, or charging at the brother if they happen to be standing.

+ (Especially after they've finally gotten used to him enough to let him hold them at night, cuddled up in bed, because he sleeps better like that; when they're no longer trying to kick him away, and instead curl up in his arms like a tiny, tiny teddy bear.)

+ Sometimes, though, they'll stand before Beel when Satan's furious at him for emptying out the fridge again, or between Levi and Asmo when they're arguing about which thing is better, and it stuns them all enough that they just... stop. Even before they've fully accepted "sheep"!MC as part of the House, or before they've formed all their pacts. There's just something strange in seeing someone so tiny leap in, fully prepared to attack and defend, that ends most arguments without a fight.

+ Not that it happens all the time, though. Sometimes, if Lucifer's threatening to string Mammon up to the rafters, or if he's berating Mammon for something "sheep"!MC knows he didn't do, they'll really attack. And that's... that's not good. There's only so many times the Avatar of Pride can take a punch to the kidney, or side-step a headbutt, or grab them by the scruff before they can charge, before he starts to get pissed. Does this stop them? Of course not. Even with the full pressure of Lucifer's anger bearing down on them, they'll stand their ground and prepare for a fight.

+ The brothers, as they get closer to "sheep"!MC, often find themselves spending more time trying to diffuse situations or quickly squirrel "sheep"!MC away before things go south than they do anything else. They berate them, of course, as much as each of them can, but it never seems to stick. Because of course, half the time, "sheep"!MC's body leaps into action before their brain does. Half the time, they've moved without even realising it, head tucked down or fist raised, moving on instinct.

+ (There's often a difference between "sheep"!MC leaping to action like an anime gag and moving to someone's defence like a BNHA character. The first they can tell happening by "sheep"!MC's face; they might not show their eyes, but they're expressive as hell regardless, lips curling into wide snarls and tugging down into deep frowns. That's when they leap and someone grabs them, holding them in the air as their arms and legs flail uselessly, more put-on by their fighty nature than anything else. The second, though? That's preceeded by "sheep"!MC's face going blank. That's when they move so quickly that it's clear their body is moving on its own. That's when the brothers stand frozen in place, staring in horrified awe at this tiny, brave little human stepping into the path of danger over something the brothers could easily survive - but they definitely can't.)

+ The TSL competition really does almost lead to "sheep"!MC's death. They don't run, don't even think to; the moment they see Levi charge at them, even in full demon form, they stand their ground and snarl. Mammon almost has a heart attack that day - especially when Levi's attack hits them, and sends their tiny body flying back against the wall.

+ Brave little human, even after getting yeeted across the room, tries to get back up again. It's that stubbornness - the refusal to give up, even though they're clearly out of their league - that spurs Lucifer into action. He's impressed by them, if you'd believe it; most humans would cower just at the sight of a demon in their demonic form, and even less would try to go down fighting after such a display of strength. So he steps in, personally, and defends them with his full form out.

+ He doesn't expect a thank you, but it's still amusing, seeing them half-slumped on the floor, being worried over by Mammon, steadfastly ignoring the second-born to downright glower at him for stepping in. There's no question that they would have died hadn't someone helped, and yet still they remain stubborn. He's pretty sure they'd even try to kick him, if they had the strength left to do so; their leg twitches as if trying to do that very action, just before he leaves.

+ It's less amusing when it happens to him, however. When he's found them in the crypt, with Beel and Luke behind them, their stance wide as if hoping that will somehow hide Beel's gigantic form. No, their stubbornness is infuriating in that moment; a blow to his own pride, to see something so small and pathetic attempt to stop him.

+ But they won't move. "Sheep"!MC knows, logically, that they'll die if they take an actual, full-on attack from a demon, but there's fight in them and they don't intend to go down without one. Is it a little reckless? Maybe. Would it be better if they just stepped to the side? Probably. Would they make it through the year by keeping their head down, being good, doing as they're told? Absolutely. But they're not going to do that. And they will stare down Pride himself, knowing that they'll die, if it means they can say they tried.

+ After this incident, "sheep"!MC starts wearing a headband with little sheep horns on it, commissioned from Levi. He's not too sure why they used the pact to make him do it, or even why they asked for it, but it's a fun little project to do and even works as a bonding experience for them. On top of that, it suits them! Ack - no, wait, it's made them too cute - he made a mistake!

+ He's genuinely surprised to learn that the horns aren't, in fact, meant to make them look like a sheep - which earns him a punch to the side for suggesting, and a pretty stern pout - but are meant to emulate a demon form. He thinks it's because of him, for a moment - that he scarred them so much when he attacked them, they're trying to cope by... being what they feared? Maybe? - but then "sheep"!MC tells him the truth, and he loses it.

+ They think the horns will make them look more scary and less like they should be fucked with - not because they're scared, but because they're getting annoyed that demons keep picking fights with them. They think the horns look badass. Levi doesn't have the heart to tell them that it's the cutest thing he's ever seen.

+ Most of the brothers agree that the horns do make "sheep"!MC look cute, and that's even when most of them start using "little sheep" as a nickname for their human. They still stubbornly wear the horns, despite the nickname.

+ "Sheep"!MC is ridiculously stubborn. They're cute, and sweet, and that's just a genuine fact; when they're not being bitey as all hell, or trying to leap head-first into danger, they look like the most adorable little thing in all the Three Realms. Asmo even has a collection of photos and videos on Devilgram solely dedicated to dressing "sheep"!MC up in cute outfits, and it's ridiculously popular. But what those things don't show is how often "sheep"!MC will be belligerant over seemingly nothing. Why, yes, this does include agreeing to do a photoshoot for Asmo and then refusing to wear anything he picks because he implied he didn't trust them to choose a good outfit.

+ That's also led to some potentially dangerous situations, of course - such as "sheep"!MC purposefully ignoring Lucifer's advice not to eat something because he said it would be "in their best interest" not to, only to be told by a frantic Mammon a few moments later that what they're eating isn't human-safe.

+ Sometimes "sheep"!MC will let the brothers pull them into their laps, because they're small enough to actually fit comfortably there and have the brothers rest their chins on their head. It can even be nice! But they do have a tendency to use that position to their advantage - namely, to headbutt the brother they're sitting on under the chin when they're getting annoyed (such as if Levi's gloating/cheating at a game, or Asmo's playing too much with their hair, or Mammon's squeezing them a little too tight while arguing over whether or not he should let them sit in someone else's lap). It's one of the few ways they actually can hurt the brothers, but mostly because it tends to make them bite their own tongues.

+ If you want to imagine something hilarious that at the time was genuinely terrifying, please consider this: Henry 1.0, moving at speeds that give even Mammon a run for his money, appearing in the distance. Asmo and Solomon, in confusion slowly morphing into fear, turning on tail to run before the great beast can reach them. "Sheep"!MC, immediately widening their stance to take on the fuck-off huge serpent that has the second and third borns running for their lives, standing their ground, head tipped down to point their horns forward. Mammon, grabbing the back of "sheep"!MC's jacket as he runs past them, hauling them over his shoulder while screaming in terror, as they pound at his back and kick at his chest, demanding to be put down so they can fist fight a snake. A typical day in the House of Lamentation.

+ If Belphie thought killing this MC was going to be easy, he's dead wrong. It's not exactly a challenge, sure - they are still human, and still much smaller than him at that - but he wasn't expecting the counter-deception of getting headbutted in the gut when he opened his arms up for a hug. It's just enough to surprise him, and means he's a second too slow to grab them when they dart back.

+ By the time he does eventually grab them, he's panting hard, a little bruised, and very frustrated. Who knew being small could have its advantages? They're quick and nimble; a few times he thought he'd gotten them, only for them to dart off to the side or dive between his legs. They'd always land a hit, too, whenever that happened - which didn't hurt, but the one time they tugged on his tail did smart a little, and that was just... unforgivable.

+ "Sheep"!MC doesn't forgive, and they definitely don't forget. There's no easy getting back into their good books, even after the new timeline's settled. Belphie has to deal with getting headbutted a lot after that whole debacle's ended, even when he thinks they're actually getting along well. If he gets too close? They lash out with a fist. If he tries to reach out for them? Their blunt teeth dig into his flesh before he's even aware they turned around. If he's sleeping somewhere they've claimed as "theirs"? Well, that one varies, but he's been shoved off beds, kicked, and had water dumped on him. It'd be impressive if it wasn't so... annoying. But he deals with it. Only because Beel wants him to.

+ You may be wondering, "has "sheep"!MC ever punched the prince?" And the answer would be yes. It wasn't on purpose, the time it happened; Diavolo, sans Barbatos for once, had somehow managed to sneak up on the little human exchange student, and thought he'd have just a bit of fun. It's not exactly like he gets a chance to be a normal demon that often, after all.

+He'd reached out to very gently tap them on the shoulder, expecting them to maybe jump a foot in the air, or to shriek with fear, so that he could say "surprise!" and laugh as they realised it was him.

+ Instead, just before he could reach their shoulder, they'd spun on heel and socked him dead in the gut.

+ He'd been so surprised that he'd stammered out an apology, watched them walk off in an indignant huff, and only started laughing at the absurdity of the situation several minutes later, when Barbatos asked why he was standing gourmlessly in the hallway.

I could probably go on much longer, but the post's getting a little long, so instead I'll leave you with this:

I haven't drawn in like ten thousand years and it absolutely shows, but the moment I read the words "sheep"!MC, this is what came to mind - and I just had to try and give my best rendition to it because the thought was so fucking funny to me.

[fridayfirefly]

crushed petals, shattered glass, and other broken things

Read crushed petals, shattered glass, and other broken things on AO3

Masterlist

For Maribat March Day 17 - Court of Owls

Marinette was twelve years old, and she was a knife. Delicate in her looks, deceiving in her appearance, Marinette was the most dangerous weapon in the arsenal of the Court of Owls. She was an assassin. She was a spy. She was clever, cunning, versatile. Most importantly, she was a knife, a sharp tool to be used to inflict violence. It was a role that suited her well. Marinette was training to become the Talon of the Court of Owls, and she was untouchable.

-----

Marinette was thirteen years old, and she wanted to know how she came to be. Procreation was easy to understand scientifically, but part of Marinette's brain objected to the idea that she had two parents. Marinette was a knife, and knives were forged by hammer and fire, sharpened to a point by tools so that it might become a tool itself. Marinette could not have come from something as human as love. Love has no role in the creation of a knife.

To settle the conflict, Marinette did what she did best - she snooped around, gathered intel, and created the most likely version of events. From what she could tell, her Grandmother, an associate of the Court of Owls but not an actual member, betrayed the Court. As punishment, Marinette was taken away from her family to be raised by the Court. Marinette's surname, kept hidden from her for thirteen years, was Dupain-Cheng.

The very concept of a surname was blasphemous. Marinette had no family. She belonged to the Court of Owls. And yet, sometimes at night, when she was alone in the dark, Marinette mouthed the words, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Something deep within her stirred.

-----

Marinette was fourteen years old, and she was supposed to kill the whole family. The mother and father, Marinette knew she could kill, but to kill their three children felt inhumane. The youngest wasn't even a year old. Marinette had completed hundreds of missions identical to this one. Sneak in, poison the food, sneak out, wait for the obituary in the newspaper in a day or two. However, this time Marinette couldn't do it.

Marinette cut the tracking chip out of her neck, crushed it beneath her boot, and disappeared into the shadows of the city. It was entirely unplanned, the only reason that Marinette was able to escape. Marinette didn't know much about life in the outside world, but she knew that it had to be better than the alternative, spending the rest of her life as a tool of the Court of Owls.

What Marinette didn't know was that the city she was disappearing into had a certain reputation. Soon, as she learned the true nature of Gotham, Marinette would wish that she stayed with the Court.

-----

Marinette was fifteen years old, and she now knew the true depravity of man. There was so much tragedy on the streets of Gotham. Some of the tragedies Marinette was able to prevent. Knives, after all, are just as good at preventing violence as they are at inflicting it. For other tragedies, Marinette was only able to witness the aftermath. For the victims, she had nothing to give. Knives can only hurt, they cannot heal.

Marinette loathes Gotham, a hatred that burns through her down to her core. In the Court of Owls, violence was planned. On the streets of Gotham, violence was random. It was so much worse. But a safer city would be more dangerous for Marinette, who needed deep shadows to hide in.

Marinette lived on the streets. She knew that she could pickpocket enough money to rent an apartment. It would be easy, the roughest slums of Gotham, to find someone willing to rent to a child, so long as they had the money. But Marinette's fear and pain had nothing to do with the physical conditions of living on the streets. It was all psychological. The horrors that Marinette had seen haunted her like a ghost.

The worst incident was Hannah, whose death shattered Marinette to her very core. Hannah was only seventeen years old, only two years older than Marinette herself. Marinette didn't know much about the girl, other than that she was on the streets because her boyfriend had threatened to kill her and the police wouldn't do anything until there was physical proof. Except, the way Hannah explained it was that the police wouldn't get involved until she was already dead. Marinette had offered to protect the older girl, but she shooed her away. Hannah told Marinette that she wouldn't let anything happen to herself. She told Marinette that she was tough.

Evidently, Hannah wasn't tough enough for the streets of Gotham. Marinette cried over the body for thirty minutes, cried so hard for so long that she knew she wasn't a knife anymore. Knives would never cry. Knives would cut right back. But Marinette was so sick of violence, so she cried and cried. Eventually, she knocked on the door of a house down the street, asking to borrow a phone to call the police and report a murder. Hannah's body was taken away. The police were ambivalent, they didn't even ask Marinette for a statement. To the police, Hannah was another victim of Gotham and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

This world was so deeply and terribly bad that Marinette didn't know how the rest of the world could survive it. Marinette didn't know if she wanted to survive it.

-----

Marinette was sixteen years old, and she finally got herself involved in the vigilante side of Gotham. Before Red Hood entered the scene, Crime Alley was a mess of villains and vigilantes, in a constant battle between chaos and order. Marinette never got involved. She had spent many years as a weapon, long enough to learn that a weapon can only harm and can never heal.

Red Hood toed the line between villain and vigilante. His network of crime was more civilized than any other the other organizations vying for control of Gotham. He kept the streets safe by keeping the most dangerous players in line. Marinette had to admit, he did more good for Crime Alley than Gotham's actual police force.

Still, that didn't mean that Marinette wanted to get involved. She preferred to keep to herself, keep out of the way, and keep in the shadows. It was safer that way.

That November evening when Marinette met Red Hood was cold. The rain that had come in the afternoon had frozen to ice. Marinette shivered as she sat in the alleyway, back against the brick wall, arms wrapped around her knees, hugging herself into a tight little ball. Winter was fast approaching, and Marinette knew that she needed to find better shelter.

Marinette hadn't been quick enough. Marinette should have fled the alley as soon as she saw the three brutish men start walking down it, but she was so cold she wasn't sure if she would be able to get her feet to move. By the time Marinette had gotten her feet under her to stand up, the three men were surrounding her.

The man in the middle leered at her. "You look cold. Why don't you come with us? We'll keep you warm."

There wasn't a trace of a question in his voice. It was a command. However, Marinette knew what happened to the girls who took up the offer, so she vigorously shook her head. She would rather freeze to death than join him in his bed.

"That wasn't a question," he growled, reaching down to grab her and pull her to her feet.

"I wouldn't touch her if I were you," an unfamiliar voice piped up from farther down the alley. "I just might have to remove your hand if you do."

"Red Hood! I was just helping the girl to her feet. I swear I wasn't going to do anything to her." The man sounded terrified, and for good reason. The punishment that Red Hood chose for rapists was well known for its brutality.

"You should leave," snapped Red Hood. The men hurried out of the alleyway, running without looking back. Marinette watched them go, relief rushing through her.

"Do you have somewhere to stay?" Red Hood asked, offering Marinette a hand to help her to her feet.

Marinette shook her head, squeezing herself into a tighter ball.

"I can take you to the nearest homeless shelter or I can take you to the nearest of my safehouses until I set you up in something permanent."

"I'm fine here," mumbled Marinette. It was the first time she had spoken in weeks. Her own voice sounded foreign to her.

Red Hood scoffed. "You'll freeze to death out here. It's either a homeless shelter or a safehouse. I don't leave girls out on the streets. Not in Gotham. Not in Crime Alley."

Marinette shivered, feeling more than miserable. It was obvious that she wasn't going to be able to convince Red Hood to leave her. A homeless shelter might need identification, which Marinette didn't have. Going to his safehouse was her best bet. "Safehouse."

Red Hood pulled Marinette to her feet. "Alright, safehouse it is. Mind telling me your name?"

"Marinette."

"No last name?"

Marinette shook her head. She hadn't earned a surname yet.

Red Hood took her back to the safehouse and got her settled, bringing over groceries every week as he tried to tempt her into giving him more information about herself. Marinette was reticent to tell him about her past. She doubted that he would still trust her enough to leave her alone if he learned that she used to work as an assassin.

However, Marinette couldn't keep that secret for very long. Two months after meeting Red Hood, as she waited in the kitchen for him to arrive with his weekly delivery of groceries, Marinette was caught off guard as a dark figure burst through the door and attacked her. Marinette didn't want to fight the dark-haired girl, but to be honest she couldn't see any other option, considering the other girl attacked first. The girl was skilled and Marinette was out of practice, after two years away from the Court. The best she could do was hold the other girl off while she tried to figure out an escape plan.

Red Hood came in the front door, which was already ajar from the entrance of the other girl. "Black Bat, stop! Marinette is my guest here," shouted Red Hood over the commotion of the fight.

Black Bat ceased her offensive, falling back into a defensive crouch. She pointed one finger at Marinette and accused, "Talon."

Marinette cringed back. "Not anymore. Never, ever again."

Red Hood stared at Marinette in shock. "You were an assassin?"

Marinette nodded miserably, wishing she could be anywhere else. She should have escaped the safehouse when she had the chance, but her stupid brain decided that Red Hood's safehouse would be a good place as any to spend the winter months.

"Cass? Jason? Why was the door left open...?" The civilian man who walked through the open door stared at the scene in front of him in confusion.

"Aliases, Grayson!" exclaimed Red Hood, or, Jason as he had just been named. Jason took off his mask, casting it aside as he ran his hand through his hair with a groan. "Black Bat, you take Marinette back to the bedroom and help her put bruise cream on wherever you managed to hit her. Grayson, you're coming with me back to the cave so we can explain this situation to you-know-who." Jason almost reached the door before he let out a loud swear "Fuck! I cannot believe that I have to be the responsible one here."

As Jason and his friend left the safehouse, Marinette followed Black Bat - Cass - down the hallway to the bedroom. "Sit," ordered Cass, pointing towards the bed as she starting digging through the bathroom cabinet, looking for bruise cream.

Marinette stripped off her shirt so that Cass could get to the bruises. The only significant hit was a kick to the chest that knocked the breath out of Marinette. It was already turning yellow. Marinette poked it and grimaced at the twinge of pain that followed.

"Don't worry," said Cass as she started to rub the medicine onto Marinette's chest. "Jason will keep you safe."

Cass wasn't lying. Whatever Jason said or did in the hours that he was gone that day, it worked. Two days later, Marinette was moving into Wayne Manor.

Jason explained it all to her on the drive over. "Bruce - Batman - doesn't want an ex-assassin living on the streets in Crime Alley, especially not one in possession of compromising information about our identities. Given that you've already taken the first step towards reformation, Bruce is pretty confident that you're safe to live in the house. He'll help you get back on your feet, get you a new identity, an education, or anything you need."

Marinette froze for a moment, then wrapped Jason up in a hug. It was her first hug and it was better than she expected. "Thank you."

-----

Marinette was seventeen years old, and she finally had a family. The Wayne household was a chaotic place. Marinette used to think that she hated chaos, but she could now see the appeal. Coffee at midnight with Tim, practicing acrobatics with Dick, racing motorcycles with Jason, rescuing farm animals with Damian - none of it was normal, and because of that, Marinette loved it. However, when things got overwhelming and Marinette needed a break from the chaos, she always knew where to go.

Cass was one of the only quiet Waynes (the other being Alfred). In fact, she barely spoke at all. Marinette had learned that she and Cass had quite a few similarities in the nature of their childhoods. They were both taken from at least one of their parents, both raised to be assassins from a young age, both were isolated from the rest of society. Where they differed was the particulars of their education. Cass was raised without language, and she only learned how to speak after she escaped from her father's grasp.

One night, after a patrol that led to Marinette stumbling upon a body that reminded her of Hannah from all those years ago, Marinette walked through the halls of the Manor to Cass's bedroom. All anyone wanted was for Marinette to talk about it. Cass was the only person who wouldn't make that demand of Marinette.

Marinette knocked on the door, two quiet little knocks. Cass cracked open the door, then gestured for Marinette to come inside. Marinette settled down on the couch in the corner, trying to pick out the questions that she wanted to ask Cass. There were so many questions, but Marinette knew that only a few of them were worth asking. They sat in silence for a while, Marinette so lost in thought that she almost forgot that Cass was there, too. Finally, Marinette settled on the question. "Do you ever wish that you could change the past?"

Cass was silent, deep in thought for a few moments before she shook her head. "No."

"Not even if it meant that you could have had a normal childhood?"

"I had a hard childhood," Cass acknowledged. "I like where I ended up. I wouldn't be here without my childhood."

Marinette had one last question to ask. "If you're able to speak now, why do you barely talk."

"I learned to speak," agreed Cass, going silent for a moment before continuing. "I have become proficient at using words to deliver information but I lack the skill to converse with others. I find it difficult to use any more words than necessary. For that reason, people do not like talking to me. I do not talk to those who do not want to talk to me."

"I like talking to you," said Marinette, squeezing Cass's hand. "I can talk enough for the both of us. You don't mind my talking, do you?"

Cass shook her head. "I find your words tolerable. Sometimes even pleasant."

It was a high compliment from Cass. Marinette smiled. "May I hug you?"

Cass nodded, and Marinette wrapped her dearest friend up in a hug.

-----

Marinette was eighteen years old, and it was time for her to create a new identity for herself.

"Do you want a surname?" asked Bruce.

Marinette stared at the screen. There were three options in front of here. The first, to remain nameless. The second, to take on the name she was born with, Dupain-Cheng in remembrance of her parents and the childhood she never got to have. The third, to move on entirely from her past and embrace the future. "Wayne. Marinette Wayne."

@maribatmarch-2k21

[fandomoverdrive]

Okay I just need to go on a rant about Whirl because I love him he might just be the most tragic character in the entirety of MTMTE and considering the candidates that’s a pretty hard position to cinch. Some of this is gonna have mentions re: self harm, suicidal tendencies/ideation, overall bad coping mechanisms etc so if that’s not your cuppa please scroll on. 

This gets long so here’s the obligatory read more. 

Let’s write “tragic” in flickering neon letters with the fact that Whirl’s first appearance in MTMTE, dropping the titular “how to say goodbye and mean it,” is a personal soliloquy delivered as he’s in the midst of constructing his own funeral pyre. Whirl is lost, directionless, trapped and unwilling to be such in a postwar environment. But how did we get here? 

Whirl is without a doubt a driven character. In the prewar functionist society, he had no qualms switching careers, risks be damned. Whether he’s always had a knack for disobeying authority or was simply driven by passion or both isn’t elaborated on, but he’s got a hell of a hardheaded streak that’s impossible to ignore. When destroying his business wasn’t enough to deter him from further rebellion, the Senate was happy to turn him into an empuratee and destroy not only the opportunity but the capability of continuing to rebel by pursuing his passion. This is what I’d personally consider the big ‘whump’ moment, less so the use and abuse as a pawn that followed but the point of trauma at which we begin to see Whirl’s psyche begin to twist.

From this point forward we see Whirl in and out of prison, let loose when he can be useful to someone else’s ploy and otherwise incarcerated for a buffet of offenses. No longer able to be constructive and having little if any control of his life, Whirl becomes aggressively destructive. In response to having everything he aspired toward ripped away from him, permanently, he builds a mental defense of bitterness and anger and paves over his black hole of self worth with a veneer of outright assholery. It’s here that he bares his metaphorical fangs and pushes - with gusto - anyone who might even suggest they’re trying to appeal to reason or get close to him as an individual. 

It’s hard to imagine, given even subtly different circumstances, that Whirl would not side with the decepticons for the war. While he’s single-handedly responsible for radicalizing Megatron towards violence, the ‘con intent at the start of revolution - that movement in society should be possible and a caste system based on alt mode is unethical - aligns quite nicely with what he’d already aspired to do with his life. His conscription to the side of the autobots is just another instance in which his autonomy is cast aside. 

Whirl is a tool. Whirl had a passion for watchmaking, but now he can’t, so his new passion is violence. Whirl is a gun and someone else has always told him where to point and all he’s ever been given for his cooperation is the blame of pulling the trigger. Whirl is an asshole, Whirl is unpredictable, Whirl isn’t a mech anybody would ever think twice about saving - the answer would always be no. Whirl wants to die. Whirl only wants to die on his own terms and he’ll be damned if he’s going to keel over under the orders of someone he doesn’t respect, for a cause he doesn’t believe in. 

A few years of this sort of treatment would be enough to drive anyone insane, let alone the millennia of warfare he suffered through. Worse yet is the one time he found a group, a team that was known for the unorthodox and taking on the big messy challenges, the Wreckers kicked him out. Whirl was too much for the mechs that were too much and there’s no way in hell that doesn’t still sting. 

That’s how we get here:

Whirl defends himself through isolation from others. He can’t be hurt by others if he never lets them close enough to be hurt by. In a hypersocial society, he has no close long-term friends, he is one of the few with no roommate aboard the Lost Light. He made himself as unpalatable as possible. He’s crass, he’s volatile, he makes it clear with every word and action that Whirl is first, you don’t mean anything, I’d leave you for dead in an instant..... But that’s not true, is it? 

Whirl is shown being completely, dramatically, self-destructively caring throughout the series. Between risking his life for the scraplet colony disguised as a protoform, participating in an untested spark jumpstart to save a life, coming up with a plan to rejuvenate Tailgate’s spark, and performing a spark transplant surgery on Megatron - without whom the world would never have been even a fraction as cruel to Whirl as it had been - Whirl is far from the most selfish character in the series. It’s in his nature, however, to deny such, to the point where he more than likely believes his own narrative that he’s irredeemable, self-absorbed, invincible, degenerate, and neither capable nor deserving of close interpersonal relationships. 

It’s also how we get here:

Whirl is one of the characters that we more frequently see in a state of disrepair. He fights passionately and recklessly, with no regard whatsoever to whether or not he makes it out of a scrum with all his limbs intact. Injuries like these, and those that he experiences elsewhere in the series, would put other mechs out of commission through pain alone, but as long as Whirl is conscious he doesn’t stop until the fight is over. 

As depressing as it is to think that Whirl is simply at this point accustomed to extraordinary pain, it’s even moreso to think about the more likely concept that he wants to be hurt. Whirl doesn’t have control of a lot that happens to him, but do you know what he does have control of? Who he chooses to shit-talk. More often than not we see Whirl being blatantly disrespectful of his superiors, and some of the more dangerous mechs aboard the LL. While obviously his intent when insulting Ultra Magnus isn’t to start a fight, harping on Drift (and subsequently getting cold clocked) or Cyclonus is a little more self-destructive in nature. 

While Whirl has been in therapy, we see during the encounter with Fort Max that he’d shared very little of what he actually considered traumatic with Rung. With no material to work with, Rung wouldn’t have been able to give Whirl instructions or advice as far as a healthy coping mechanism, and so I’m firmly of the belief that Whirl goes out of his way to get himself hurt as a way to have a vague sense of control. 

On his actions and guilt:

Whirl is immensely guilty. When he’s overcharged, he admits that everything feels like his fault - and unfortunately a lot is. Whirl believes he’s the bad guy, and he’s willing to take the fall for actions that others might find immoral. There’s a lot Whirl has done that he’ll likely never forgive himself for, even if he garnered the ability to start forgiving himself for the small things, but the character he’s created for himself has been part of him for so long that it’s near impossible to tell where to draw the line between caricature and his genuine self. 

At this point in time, Whirl is not capable of improving himself without external assistance. 

He has accepted (however wrongfully) that he is not cared about, trusted, wanted, or respected. 

His assumptions become self-fulfilling prophecy as he - consciously or not - works to perpetuate his image. Whirl is a dick, he’s unfazed by anything anyone says about him, if someone is insulting him they’re probably right, why bother arguing unless it’s with the intent to get in a fight? He doesn’t pay attention to others, he doesn’t pay attention to himself, nothing that anybody could say could possibly make a difference. 

Right? Right?

Wrong. Part of what makes Whirl so heart-wrenchingly tragic is that it is so incredibly clear that nobody has ever told him he mattered. Rodimus throws out what could be interpreted as a snide remark, “even the crazy bastard makes a difference,” and that aside sticks with him. Millions of years of warfare, of being a tool to use, an expendable soldier, a rabid dog to throw at their enemies, and not once did someone turn around and say he was anything good. He’s been thanked for saving lives, for contributions, for individual acts, but his reaction to Rodimus really cements in my mind that nobody has ever said that he, that Whirl, was important. 

Whirl is a broken character. He’s subsumed by his own self-hatred that he perpetuates and justifies with a mask of cruel indifference and aggressively abrasive snark. He’s alone, by what he thinks is his own choice but is really a horribly misguided attempt to keep himself safe. He’s got no potential for growth unless someone wants to force their way through his defenses in order to help him find the line between who he is and who he pretends to be in order to keep from being hurt. Whirl is terrified of abandonment, and guarantees that nobody will ever be able to leave him by never letting them come close to begin with. He’s not a good person, he’s violent and callous and has little regard for the consequences of his actions, but he is that way because of the life he was forced to lead. He falls into consistent patterns because he craves control, even if those patterns are self destructive. It’s proof of the little growth he was allowed during the course of MTMTE/LL that after their quest was over, he didn’t attempt suicide again but instead got into the revolving door of incarceration for petty offenses. 

All in all, Whirl is one of the saddest characters in any media I’ve consumed and please someone get this despicable bastard helicopter a new therapist and a stiff drink 

[softer-ua]

I have no idea what Bakugou would have done if Izuku died in the sludge Villain accident. They had a lot of strong unresolved emotions, I just can't fully visualize it, the only thing I have clear is him trying to latch onto anger, but that would burn out fast because the Villian was trapped and the heroes did their thing (Winning, which at that point he believed everything was) so I don't know what would he do. Sooo...could you please give us your insight? Please :D

I’d love to give my insight! Thank you for asking!!!🥰

It would depend on which sludge incident, the one where Deku ran to save Katsuki or the one where Deku was on his own? 🤔 I’ve got ideas on both lol

Buckle up this is gonna be a long one, and it’s not a fun ride

For the first I think Katsuki would latch onto anger and be a self hating righteous little monster for the rest of eternity. Because obviously he’s never getting therapy.

If he can blame himself for AM’s retirement and his parents can blame him for getting kidnapped than I have zero doubt the Entire Bakugo family would blame Katsuki for Dekus death. That family loves to victim blame, and Mitsuki would have a field day with chart topping world’s lowest blows like

If Katsuki hadn’t been hanging out in an alley and had gone straight home the villain wouldn’t have got him

If Katsuki hadn’t just been randomly blasting the heros wouldn’t have had to divert their attention to the fire

If Katsuki hadn’t been so weak(what’s the point of that flashy quirk if you can’t even save yourself)

Going with him to make him apologize to Inko (trying to imagine this feels like my brains touching a hot stove, it would be a thousand times more horrible and scarring than being forced to apologize to his Idol and teach for being kidnapped)

If hs Katsuki didn’t have the tools to block out his mother and broke down over a 50 year old man retiring, then poor ms Katsuki doesn’t stand a chance against being forced to bare the blame in someone’s actual death, especially not Dekus. Plus whatever destructive aftermath Katsuki created.

Did you have to blow up the entire alley way??

Katsuki would also never stop blaming those heros, even if the villain was captured they lost what really mattered, Dekus life.

They should have stopped the villain before Deku ever showed up

They should have never let Deku cross the line

They should have saved him

I think his fear of being weak would have been magnified by 10000. And it wouldn’t be a stretch for me to believe that witnessing that kind of hero failure so personally would be his villain origin. But even if it wasn’t, I think 10 months of stewing in grief, rage and self hate at such a young age would leave some very permanent scars

He’d habitually train to the point of self harm(reminder to check in on your fitness bros)

He’d never ever let someone close to him again (he didn’t want Deku close to him in the first place and look at how bad it hurt anyway)

He wouldn’t give a shit about any heros opinion anymore, if it’s not about how he can get stronger than any would be mentor can fuck off

His ego would have taken a massive hit, he’s no longer trying to prove he’s the best

Instead he’s insuring it because he’s never losing anyone again

Even with that in mind I think the sports festival actually would have gone a lot calmer because he no longer gives a shit about showing off, he’s just fighting to test himself and Dekus the one who pushed Todoroki to the point anyone even knew he had a fire side(I always wonder how much longer Aizawa was gonna let that go on for) so he’d except his medal quietly so it’s possible the lov would never have tried to recruit him

I think he’d be a lot more proactive in helping his classmates get stronger

Just not in a cute tsundere way anymore, but in a “if you can’t keep up with me I will keep attempting to murder you until you drop out” way, because B List heros are not allowed to be a thing anymore

Eventually he would grow up to be the top hero and he revels in that victory by hating himself, his job, his coworkers, his family, and everyone and everything else. The best part of his days are the adrenaline highs and that’s not even a happy high, in a bad headspace it just makes you ansty and aggressive, still better than being a hallow husk of resentments

I wouldn’t be surprised if he eventually did kill a fellow pro for not meeting his standards. Depending on what the hero did to earn his ire would shape wether he went on to be the new hero killer or simply stopped being a hero himself in custody or more permanently

Now if the villain had instead been captured after being caught hiding in Dekus flesh suit things would have been very different than the above

Katsuki would definitely be traumatized at this news, so would most of their class and they’d probably do some kind of memorial deal, and over the course of a couple of days Katsuki would slowly descend into madness at watching his class act like they have ever given a single fuck about Deku

Then he would speedball into it, because how dare they grieve over him, non of them deserve to especially not him

He’d be angry for as long as he could, at himself and everyone else, but eventually that’d putter out without anyone stoking the fire, no one else blames his class for feeling sad and no one blames the heros for not existing on every single possible street corner

Maybe he makes it through UA. He’s not as hot head, not as naive, but teens hold grudges like no other, he can be mad at the world a little longer.

Throws himself into the work so he doesn’t have time to think. He’s going to be the best because Deku always believed he would be and if he’s not allowed to be sad than this will be his only way to honor the nerds memory.

But the thing about pain is that it demands to be felt.

Eventually his regrets and grief would come for him, in a year or in ten years doesn’t matter they will eventually claim the time and space they need with interest.

He’d probably meet his regrets first so that he can be mad at himself for a little longer

He should have let Deku be

If he hadn’t held Deku up after class maybe he’d have made it home

His last words play on loop growing distorted and more malicious as the years go on(fun fact about memory ! It’s easily manipulated because each time you remember something you’re actually just remembering the last time you remembered the thing! Basically your brain reconstructs the memory completely each time! Fuck it up once and it’s all down hill)

He regrets not ensuring that he’d have more than his flimsy memories to hold onto Deku with, he never realized he’d want to, never could fully conceive that he’d actually have to.

He should have been kinder

He should have been less of a coward and faced his own insecurities

He should have talked to Deku about so many things

He can’t just focus on what he did and didn’t do forever tho, eventually he’ll have to recognize the hole Deku left behind, his regrets will paint the picture of his grief

Maybe he forgets the exact date of Dekus birthday but he knows it was in the summer, he regrets not going to his last one and grieves never going to a next one.

He regrets not going to the funeral, of course he was sad, he’d been an idiot to think he couldn’t be

He regrets not visiting Dekus grave, and grieves over how long he’s been gone now

He regrets that he had to learn what the value of saving is by having lost, god how he grieves that loss

Without Deku Kaminari never hears that nickname, Kacchan died with Deku. He grieves over never hearing it again

He wonders if Dekus hanging out with Kacchan wherever he is, he wonders if this makes him crazy.

He grieves over Deku dying so young, so alone, so horribly. It gives him nightmares, he can’t imagine the pain of having all his organs crushed down from the inside, and yet he’s some how intimately aware of its possibility. He debates looking for the autopsy results, maybe if he confirms it was asphyxiation and not internal blunt trauma the nightmares will stop. But you don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.

He grieves over the dreams Deku never got to chase, and regrets ever playing a part in taking away the happiness a dream is supposed to have

He grieves over the Deku shaped hole in his life that seemed to grow with him despite only ever getting to know the knobby knees version, he can’t help but think with every achievement and milestone “you should be here”

He doesn’t hate his life, it just feels half lived.

Without Deku pushing his buttons and no god complex shaped alarm bells people were slower to reach out to him.

Without Deku to vouch for his good qualities people were a lot more hesitant to see them.

He still did make friends it’s just a shallower connection and he doesn’t make time for them

He becomes top hero but the victory feels hallow like there should have been more of a fight for it. Maybe he is crazy but it feels like it should have been Deku fighting him for it.

His saves are legendary and numerous, he’s never able to shake the feeling that there’s someone out there who needs him just around the corner

Between the nightmares and the anxiety clocking off gives him he probably gets less sleep than any hero before him, even Aizawa.

It was a short career

[lanuvolanera]

Sept 19th - Cofession

Chapter 1

My first ever fanfic, lads, be nice and enjoy.

---------

Coming out of Casper High mid afternoon, Danny and Tucker made their way down the school steps. Students trickled out the front doors in small groups and split their own ways as the duo began their trek to Fenton works.

"Man, I'm glad Sam didn't come today." Danny said, grasping his backpack strap slung over his shoulder.

"I know, right? She would've been miserable." Tucker replied, pocketing his PDA with a light frown on his face.

The day went well. Steady, in fact. They seemed to have kept off of Dash's radar and stayed on Mr Lancer's good side with the English assignment. Not to mention that it was pizza day at the cafeteria, the only good thing that the cooks knew how to make. Yeah, today wasn't so bad, it just felt empty without Sam by their side.

"She should be feeling better by tomorrow, right?"

"Honestly, I think she'll take the rest of the week off. If it wasn't for that ghost..."

"Oh god, don't remind me, I still feel awful." Danny said with a look of mild horror, still traumatised from the night before.

A pause in their conversation prompted more memories from last night.

Phantom, two feet above the ground, felt paralysed as he looked on and watched as Tucker ducked undercover from the ectoblasts firing in all directions from what looked like a regular bedsheet type ghost, only this one was different, this one screeched and wailed and gnawed it's black teeth, blood dripping from its mouth, staining its torso.

"We'll give her a call tonight, see how she's doing." Tucker said, dragging Danny out of his thoughts.

"Or we could head over, see how she's doing in person?"

"Or we could leave her be and let her rest."

Danny didn't like that idea, he was worried and felt guilty and ashamed that he couldn't prevent her injury. As minor as it was, she couldn't find the strength to come to school the next day, when he'd hoped to apologise again and ask how she's doing again and to offer her anything she needs again. He made his mind up right then.

"I'll fly over tonight then, when everyone's gone to bed."

"Sure, don't forget to bring her homework and tell her you love her."

"What?" Danny gasped in shock, a deep red blush covering his cheeks.

"Nothing." Tucker looked away with a sheepish grin and quickly changed the topic.

"We still need to do some research about last night's ghost, I've downloaded some pdf's which I'll send to you and Sam to see if there are other ways to dispell it if the thermos didn't work."

They turn the corner and can see the large Fenton works sign in the distance, two blocks away.

"Race you." Danny smirked, and sprinted off before Tucker had a chance to realise what was happening.

With a loud "hey!" from Tucker in the background, Danny slowed as he neared the steps to his front door and tried the handle, locked. Hmm, his parents are out, Jazz would still be at school studying in the library, looks like he and Tucker have the house to themselves. Danny pulls out his keys and unlocks the door just as Tucker catches up out of breath.

"That's cheating, you had a head start." He pants.

"Come on, the computer in the lab is free, go down and fire it up while I get some coffee brewing."

"Sounds like a plan."

-------------‐-------------------------------------------------

Later that night, Danny flew Tucker back to his house.

They soared through the night sky, clear and full of stars, street lamps illuminating the buildings below them, his best friends arm slung over phantoms shoulders.

"Look, all I'm saying is if we go back tomorrow, what if we make things worse, pissed it off even more. If its trapped there like we think, what harm will it do if we leave it alone?"

"It's different though, what if when we found it there, we let it loose?"

"If we did then don't you think we would've seen it again by now?"

"I don't want to chance it, we need to find a way to deal with it permanently."

"Don't tell me you're going back there by yourself."

"No, I'm going to Sam's, like I said."

"You'd better."

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

Once he'd said his goodbyes to Tucker, and reassured him he wasn't going to do something wreckless, Danny took off into the air once more and set course for Sam's House.

With a backpack full with his thermos, his laptop, his phone, both his and Sam's maths homework, a couple of pens, pencils, markers and 2 cans of Sam's favorite soda, Danny sped across the rooftops when a blue puff of cold air burst it's way past his lips.

"Of course, I thought it was too quiet tonight."

Taking a quick glance of his surroundings, there was nothing to be seen in the empty streets. A brief pause, his breath held in his lungs, then glass crashing from a shop window a few blocks down caught Danny's attention.

Cackling laughter and bursts of light flashed from the window, Danny wasted no time reaching the building, turning himself intangible and flew through the ceiling.

"Oh, come on! What the hell are you doing here? In a pet store of all places?"

....

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

Danny finally arrived at his destination. Peaking through the window to find Sam laying on her bed, light from her laptop illuminating her face, in her black pyjamas and a cast on her leg.

He knocked on the glass, and smiled as Sam startled.

Waving him in, he floated through the glass and landed with a soft thump on the plush carpet, and settled on the edge of her bed.

"Hey, how're you feeling?" Danny said with concern in his voice.

"Fine. Hey, you need to sign my cast." Sam says with a playful smirk. Danny half expected her to be more upset about being injured, or at least, as upset as he is.

After the escape from the warehouse the night before, with Sam cradled in his arms and Tucker following not too far behind, all Danny could think was this was all his fault. Sam got injured because of him, because he was too late, too late to swoop in and protect her from the falling scaffolding from the ghost fight, that cost her her ability to run to safety. He's the hero, isn't he? And he couldn't save her from something as simple as falling debris? What kind of hero-

"Danny-"

Sam could see the distraught look on Danny's face and he caught himself looking down at her cast. It could've been a lot worse, but still.

Danny looks up at her, he needs to confess.

"I'm sorry, Sam, I'm sorry you got hurt, I should've been more careful-"

"Hey, don't worry about it, these things happen, right? It could've been a lot worse."

"I know, I keep telling myself that, but still-"

"But still, we need to figure out a way to get rid of that ghost, I've been doing some research on this specific type of ghost and I've read through the files Tucker sent me, and I think I have a good idea on what we're working with."

Sam brings the laptop closer and turns it around for Danny to see pages upon the screen filled with information from different historic and religious sites.

"Does it say anything about why the thermos didn't work?" He asked playfully. Of course, the Fenton thermos only being a recent invention, there wouldn't be any information that hasn't been put online by the Fentons themselves indicating its presence in the ghost hunting community across the globe. Sure, there have been other containment methods but for this particular ghost, the best method would be to remove it from this plane entirely instead of just bottling it up.

Other pages on the screen suggest cleansing treatments of the haunted area using a mixture of herbs, minerals and rituals, witchcraft. If that could work, maybe the Fentons have other means of ghost study to pursue, if they believed in that sort of thing, of course.

"Hoestly, this stuff is giving me a headache, I need a break."

"Good thing I have just what you need." Danny says, reaching for his backpack.

He pulls out his own laptop, the 2 cans of soda and their homework, which Sam gives a mild look of disgust.

"Great."

"You don't look at all enthused." Danny says with a cheeky smile, and pops open his can, passing the other one over to Sam who takes it gratefully.

A small awkward pause later and Sam has to snap Danny back to reality again.

"Look, I know you think this is your fault, so here's my obligatory I'm-not-a-damsel-in-distress talk, we're a team, we'll sort this out, and we can forget about it."

"It's not just that, I don't know, it's just that- I don't think I'll be able to forget about it. There's something about this ghost, it's terrifying." Danny says, setting his can aside.

"I know, ugly too." Sam smiles as Danny looks up, he remembers what Tucker said to him earlier.

Tell her you love her.

"I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if something happened to you, I couldn't imagine my life without you."

At this, Sam sits up and puts her can on her bedside table. They're face to face with each other now.

"I couldn't imagine my life without you either, and you're right, that ghost is terrifying, even more of a reason to fight it."

Tell her.

"This ghost fight seems to be putting things into perspective."

You love her.

"I know what you mean."

They don't know when they got closer, or when they started leaning in.

Danny lightly brushes his fingers across her cheek, tilting her head just so, and presses his lips to hers.

It's a little awkward at first, spending a few seconds in that position. Then someone, or maybe both, adjust their lips, and oh.

Oh wow.

The sensation is amazing, sparks running down their spines and they readjust again, and again.

Their arms begin to wrap around each other and oh god, they're actually making out, kissing. They don't even realise they've fallen onto their sides on the bed, eyes squeezed shut applying and reapplying firm presses of their lips together.

They stay that way for a few moments, or is it lifetimes, when a tune came from the bedside table.

They pull apart, dazed red faces inches from each other, before Sam sits up and grabs her phone.

"It's Tucker."

She answers.

"Hey, Sam, I know you're busy recovering and all and I know it's late but I think I have a lead."

"That's great, what've you got?"

"I've found a review online about a book at the town hall library, if we can get it checked out tomorrow we might be able to find a way to exorcise this ghost."

Sam and Danny look at each other with hope.

"What's the title?"

"Ghost hunting for dummies."

"Be serious."

"I'll make you laugh one day, I swear."

"Tucker."

"It's called 'witchcraft untold', there are only 2 copies in town, the other is at the 'Skulk and Lurke'. The review made it sound like a work of fiction, and maybe it is, who knows? But I think it's worth checking out."

Sam makes a mental note of the title. There are a few books she's planning on checking out, some including cultural and religious beliefs on the undead, magic and pagan rituals, and scientific findings surrounding ghosts. If this book Tucker mentioned is as promising as it sounds, things could be looking up.

"I've been meaning to go to the 'Skulk and Lurke' tomorrow anyway, so I'll keep an eye out for it."

"Thats great, we'll talk more later, get some rest."

" I will do, see you later, Tuck."

"See you, and say hi to Danny for me!"

Click.

They glance at each other, and Danny moves to stand up.

"I should get going, um..."

"Yeah, you're gonna need some rest too if we're gonna face this ghost tomorrow night."

"We?"

"Yeah?"

"No."

"What?"

Danny couldn't believe he had to say this.

"Sam, you're injured, there's no way I'm letting you come along..."

"You're not 'letting' me do anything, I'm going. We still need to figure out a plan before then anyway, when I get a chance to check out that book."

The air surrounding them starts to tense.

"How am I supposed to fight this ghost and protect you at the same time? Or have you already forgotten about last night?"

"Excuse me? Have you forgotten what I said only ten minutes ago? I'm not letting you go off and play hero all by yourself!"

"That is not-"

"Save it. I can take care of myself."

"Fine, I'll call you in the morning."

"Fine."

And with that, Danny turns towards the window and lifts off, phases through, and rises into the night sky.

[the-final-sif]

 I lied, I’m not actually clearing out my inbox today b/c someone left a super amazing comment on ‘a soft tongue and sharp teeth’ and so I’m going to write an analysis/breakdown/ramble of all the things I had going on in that fic because I want to and it’s one of my favorite bnha fics.

Warning! Discussion of suicidal thoughts/self-sacrificial suicide/kidnapping/child death/general fucked upness we see in BNHA ahead.

The entire story is about how children with strong quirks are seen and treated as tools/weapons by adults in BNHA’s universe. They’re forced to grow up too quick, to fight to defend themselves or surrender to that fate. I wanted to tackle this through the eyes of one such child who we’ve seen subjected to that by both heroes and villains.

Katsuki is the focus of the story, he’s the only one whose given a name throughout the story, and he’s one of only two characters allowed to “Speak”, that’s because this is his story, his and the child’s. The fundamental core of his story is that he is the one who gets to decide it. He would rather die than allow anyone else to control him or his story, so he and the child are the only ones allowed to actually speak in it.

Pronouns only ever refer to one character. He/him = Katsuki. She/her = Momo. They/them = the child (I’ll talk more about why in a minute).

One of the primary metaphors of the story is Katsuki holding his sharp teeth over his tongue. Katsuki has notable sharper teeth in the manga, and here they also represent his general willingness to fight. His anger, his guarded nature, his strength. His tongue represents himself, his agency, and his story.

Katsuki gets his quirk, and the moment he does in the story, others demand it from him. It starts with just his friends who demand he keep showing it off, something he’s happy to do and which seems harmless. Then it slowly escalates when more powerful people start taking notice.

This manifests in many ways, the attempted kidnappings, the sports festival, people around him trying to forced him into change one way or another and him refusing.

Katsuki also starts the theme of ‘biting his tongue’ early on in the story. Here, it actually has two meanings that converge into the same core theme. He metaphorically bites his tongue when he refuses to tell anyone about what happened to him, because he no longer trusts anyone after what happened. Only himself. Later, he resolves to more literally bite his tongue to take his own life if he’s ever unable to escape. So he can’t be turned into a weapon.

In both cases, for Katsuki, biting his tongue is him denying other people any say in his story on the most ultimate level. He refuses to tell anyone else what happened to him, because it is his story, and by telling it, other people could turn it into their own narratives. So they won’t hear it at all. Similarly, by killing himself he’d be taking control over his own story in the most final way possible. He can’t be used as a tool or a weapon if he’s dead. So that’s his final solution, if he has no other way out, then he will end his story there to stop them from taking it from him. 

Or at least, he refuses to tell his story until he meets someone who truly understands it. The child.

We have a city being destroyed, and a few more characters come into play. The most important two are Momo and Hawks, with mentions of Eri.

Momo has also had people try to use her for her quirk her entire life. She’s been reduced down to it by a lot of people, but has managed to at least somewhat overcome that with her intelligence. Still, her understanding of what it’s like is why she’s the third pronouned character and why she’s the one whose able to figure out how to communicate with the child.

Hawks is a case where he was turned into a weapon/tool by adults. He gave in and gave up his freedom. He understands the pain of it, at least on some level. That’s why he’s noted as one of the few people able to enter the bubble of destruction without harm. Because he kind of understands. But he’s not able to pass through safely like Katsuki, and he’s not the one the child wants because he gave in. Hawks gave up on his freedom, so he can’t really understand the choice the child is making.

Eri is another case where a child was turned into a weapon. The bullets made from her blood are the proposed solution, and they don’t work because of who they were created from. 

All these characters lead to Katsuki entering the bubble of destruction enclosing the city. Katsuki is the one allowed to enter because he understands.

His journey is broadcast outwards, as a gift to him from the child. Because the child understands how hard it is to tell this story, and so they give Katsuki a platform to tell it where nobody can take his story from him. Nobody else can interject, interrupt, or try to change it.

All anyone else is allowed to do is listen to it and accept Katsuki’s story as he presents it.

Also I’m going to note that I use the repetition of Katsuki’s age a lot here because I want to hammer home how young all these children are as they’re forced into these fates.

When Katsuki reaches the child, he notes that the child does not have sharp teeth. This is meant to mean that the child did not have Katsuki’s same willingness to fight back/lash out, not until it was too late and they’d gotten a serious head injury, one that caused them to lose control over their quirk.

The child is bound too, which tells Katsuki that someone had tried to kidnap them. He understands upon seeing them what’s going on, that the child had adults try to turn them into a tool/weapon. Since they’re no longer able to control their quirk properly, the child made the choice to overuse their quirk until it killed them rather than allow themselves to be turned into a tool/weapon.

I want to note that the child is never described in any detail physically. They/them are used for the child the entire time. They are never given a name, hair color, eye color, etc. That’s all on purpose. Because this child is meant to be every child forced into this situation, who’ve had to make this choice. They could be any child, because this issue is so prevalent in bnha. 

In his effort to make the child feel less alone, Katsuki tells his own story to them, about how adults don’t listen when you say no, and about how he’d fought back and made them. He tells his own story, making himself vulnerable for the first time in a long time, because he knows he can trust this child not to take his story away from him.

Likewise, the child trusts Katsuki with their story too. They ask him to tell their story like he tells his, not the story of a victim, but the story of a hero, and he does.

Katsuki then offers comfort the only way he knows how, by singing a lullaby that he remembers from before he got his quirk. Bringing back memories of a time before adults saw them as tools, as weapons, as nothing more than their quirks.

He offers them one last chance to be a child, to be a person, to be human again. To be treated as they should’ve been the entire time.

Katsuki clings onto the child long after their gone, finally crying and unable to let go and accept their death because not only is it tragic, but it’s his very first time seeing his own story from the outside. It’s the first time he realizes how fucked up all of this really is, well and truly.

Aizawa enters here, earlier in the story he was the only one to protest Katsuki entering the bubble. He’s often one of the few characters in BNHA who actually treats these children like children, who protests against sending them out into the field, who protects them.

In the end, he’s only one person though, and he tries, he tries so hard, but he can only do so much. Often times all he can be is there to comfort them afterwards.

Aizawa still tries, he sits with Katsuki, he lets him cry, and he comforts Katsuki. Treating him like a child, because Katsuki still is one.

Very purposefully, Aizawa does not say anything here. There’s nothing he can say that will make things better, so instead he stays silent and lets Katsuki/The Child tell their stories and have that control. Rather than trying to shift it by telling them everything’s okay when it’s not.

Afterwards, everyone is left shaken by their sudden understanding of Katsuki’s world. But Katsuki isn’t because this is just his life.

To him, as hard as it was, this is just a reality of life. He hates everyone who forces children to make these choices, the circumstances of the choice are tragic. But the choice itself is not to him. It’s the heroic thing to do. It’s powerful. It’s maintaining your own agency and humanity against all else.

We see this when he meets the child’s parents, he makes sure they know who the hero was that day. He holds to his promise and keeps telling the child’s story how they wanted it told.

When Katsuki’s answering how he’s moving on, you’ll notice I used “their” to describe the child in his eyes. That was very much so on purpose and goes back to the idea of the child he encountered being symbolic for every child that’s been forced to make this choice.

After all of this, we finally get to the sweet pea flower Katsuki finds after he’s gone through his grief and started moving forward again.

So, sweet pea flowers mean goodbye, but with a grateful/happy tone to them. It’s meant as both a ‘thank you’ to Katsuki from the child for sharing his story and comforting them in their last moments, but it’s also meant as a reassurance that this was a happy ending for them. This was their choice, that they made to keep power over their own story. It’s a choice that hurt them to make, but it was still theirs. They don’t regret it.

The flower is crystal rather than organic matter so it won’t die. It’s a permanent reminder for him, an endless symbol of their story and choices that will live on after them.

As such, Katsuki puts the flower in with his will. Because he understands the meaning, and he wants to pass it along. If he dies, he’ll be going out on his own terms. And he won’t regret it. His story will be his until the end.

 Okay this has gotten very long, and I didn’t even get to everything.

Anyways, a soft tongue and sharp teeth is my favorite short bnha story I’ve written, I was basically possessed while writing it, and there’s like 10 million little details in it that I’m very proud of. 

thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[peanutpinet]

Nine Percent scenarios my brain thought of when I first saw their pics

ALRIGHT FIRST OF ALL!! SILVER KUNKUN!! I’M DEAD!! NEXT OF ALL, I HAVE 2 DIFFERENT OF SCENARIOS WHEN LOOKING AT THIS PIC, MKAY!

SCENARIO 1: Kun saw you attending an event that he was also attending (let’s say mafia/gang meeting, which you have no idea of) and he asked for one of the staffs to guide you to another place so he could meet you and ensures your safety

“Please ensure her to the other room, I’ll be there shortly”

SCENARIO 2: So, second scenario, I can imagine Kun seeing a guy eyeing you from afar (let’s say it’s still the same meeting he was attending) and other men were either trying to come up to you/flirt with you (which, Kun does not approve whatsoever) and he requested permission from the staff so he can go to your side.

“I want them, in a room. Alive.”

ALRIGHT BOI!! THIS SMILEY SUNSHINE JUST FLIPPED 180 AND BECAME LIKE A CEO (NAHHH, ALSO THIS IS SCENARIO DOESN’T REALLY HV YOU BUT IT INVOLVES YOU, JUST HEAR ME OUT!!)

So, I imagine that Nongnong and you were very close, working under the same company and all. Then, our precious nongnong (because of his hardwork and sunshine smile) was promoted into the CEO of the company and he appointed you to be his assistant. THEN!!! Y’all had to attend this meeting with a business partner which was fine and all until the freaking representative of the business (a guy) was eye-f*cking you, would even discuss the business more with you instead of Nong (because let’s be real here, who would’ve thought this soft boi is the CEO). Time skip to after the meeting, Nongnong requested to meet this representative, alone!! 

Then, Nong was like “How about we talk real business here. Like how you were eye-fucking (OMO CURSE NONG) my assistant-girlfriend”

ALRIGHT, “BEATEN UP” CHENG IS LIKE HAWT?! LIKE HOW?! ALSO, THIS SCENARIO MAY BE A QUICK ONE BUT LIKE, THIS IS WHAT MY BRAIN THOUGHT OF SO YEA...

This pic, I imagine, something happened to you and Cheng was not going to let it slide that easily. After taking care of you and making sure you were safe and rested, he went out and hunted searched for the very people who hurted you. Not letting any of them to catch their breath, putting them down (not permanently, but feel free to imagine this), making sure they know who they were dealing with when they went out to hurt you, even if it means that he’s risking his own life.

“They should’ve gone for the head when they had the chance. Oh well, their loss. What’s done is done”

Alright, this may be slightly similar to Chengcheng’s scenario but not really. Let’s get to it!!

So, when I first saw this, I immediately thought of both you and Justin were held captive by another gang (9% is a gang of their own and Justin was just so happen to be with only you, not the others, and was busy protecting you, being outnumbered by a lot, hence why you both ended up being held captive). Both of you were in the same room and though it was just Justin getting beaten up for information at first (which he does not leak whatsoever), it wasn’t long before the gang decided to beat you up for information as well, or even to break Justin, making him leak something. INSTEAD!! What they got was a very pissed off Justin who eventually broke free (specifically, when his geges have arrived to save them and it distracted everyone).

Justin then had a one vs one fight with the one that beated you up and the building was starting to collapse. The opposite gang thought that maybe Justin was done for. BUT NOPE, CUE THE PICTURE!! HE SURVIVED

“I’m going to give you a light head-start. By the time I count to five, you better hope that you’ll be able to find an exit because, you’re nex7 (LMFAO CAN’T HELP IT)”

SOMEONE HELP!! I’M DED (AGAIN). QUICK TALK, THIS HAS GOT TO BE ONE OF THE BEST PHOTO SHOOTS HE HAS DONE!! LIKE THE HAIRSTYLE, OUTFIT, ACCESSORIES (THAT STICK) IS JUST *CHEFS KISS*. ALRIGHT, ONTO THE SCENARIO BEFORE MY BRAIN FORGETS

So, I imagine that (again, 9% was a gang/mafia of their own, that is for a good cause!!) Yanjun was supposed to meet up with a “business partner” which he was not excited to begin with. But when he heard the news that you were hit on by the “business partner”, something in him was just burning up that he decided to invite them to his (more like 9%)’s bar and have a nice talk fight.

“I heard that you like playing with people’s feelings and emotions. Well, I like to play too. I like to play with pool, drinks, *shifts to dark gaze* the items in this bar that will soon fly around and not to mention blood”

Alright, first things first, let us ignore the yellow fluffy jacket he has and imagine he was wearing a suit XD But alright, just like Kun, I have 2 different scenarios for Mama Ting!!

Scenario 1: He was fighting with a bad guy/person that “accidentally” hurt you and the guy ended up being limp, trying to escape Zhengting. Buth oh ho no boi, you mess with the wrong person. Thanks to his long flexible legs, he managed to get through every obstacle and following the limp guy in the escape stairs.

“You should really save your energy to say your last words instead of escaping from me. Because, let’s be real, you can’t escape. I (actually the whole 9%) own this building”

Scenario 2 (a bit darker/yandere-ish): you had just found out that your boyfriend, Zhengting was basically “obsessed” with you. He doesn’t mind if you were with your friends that are girls. No, he’s actually happy that you have a good social life and maintain it. However, when it comes to guys, that was definitely not the case.

Sure, it seemed that he was the typical “jealous” boyfriend and he tried his best to not let it get the best of him. But when he found out that you and one of your best friends (that is a guy) went out together with your other friends and play an escape room together, to say Zhengting was jealous was an understatement. 

He felt slightly betrayed that you didn’t at least let him know that you were going to play an escape room with your friends and one of them just so happened to be your guy best friend. Ho-hoh, beware my friend because you were in for a treat.

What seemed to be a fake horror/thriller escape room quickly shifted to a real one the minute you and your friends heard screaming, realising that the scream came from your guys friend, all of you decided to run for your life. Shouting for help. When you saw Zhengting in the escape room, you were first relieved that your boyfriend came to save you. But when you found out he was the one that killed your guy best friend, you knew you had to escape. Unfortunately, escaping Zhengting after what you had done was nearly impossible.

“Sweetheart, where are you going? You know you can’t outrun me. I think it’s best for you to just give up. I wouldn’t want to harm you”

SORRY FOR THIS SUDDEN TURN OF EVENTS!!

First and foremost, can someone cast Ziyi (along with his bros) in like an action movie or something like dayum!!!

Alright, this is going to be a short and sweet one. You were basically held hostage and Ziyi finally came (with his bros, don’t worry) to save you. He looked at the situation and quickly diverse a plan so you wouldn’t get hurt anymore.

“Alright, Xiaogui, Cheng, create a diversion. Once they’re distracted, Jun, Justin, take them out but not kill them, we need information to what it is they want from (Y/N). Then I’ll try my best to release (Y/N). Afterwards, Nong and Zhangjing, quickly take her to safety”

Can I just say, dayum Xiaogui!! Boi skipped motorcycle, car, truck and straight for the plane (JK)

Alright, for Xiaogui’s scenario, I feel that him and the others managed to rescue you and some other hostages/victims from the enemy. However, the enemy manages to “escape”. Well, not really, since Xiaogui and Zhengting already devised a plan just in case if the enemy does manage to escape. Which is basically hijacking their system and transport. In this case, their plane 😎😎

“Hi, yes, captain Linkai a.k.a Xiaogui speaking. Do fasten your seatbelt as we prepare to head to prison shortly *cue him putting on those shades*” 

OMO!! YOU ZHANGJING IN A BAR?! LIKE!! GUYS!!! HE’S NOT JUST OUT FOR THE FOOD BUT THE DRINKS AS WELL!! OKAY OKAY, SCENARIO!!

The scenario I thought of when looking at this pic of Zhangjing is that he was spying on you and your friends (who were out partying) when the opposing enemy of 9% were at the same bar. At first, Zhangjing would be subtle with the situation. Not really showing himself and all. But when he saw you sitting at the bar and an enemy of the boys decided to hit on you (out of all the girls/guys in the bar), he just bluntly went behind the counter (because let’s be real, I’m sure the boys have enough money to buy a bar, LOL).

“Hi, welcome to our bar. How would you like your drink? Hot? Cold? Or punch? Like what I’m about to do to you if you do not get your hands off of her”

SORRY SORRY, I JUST HAD TO INSERT THIS GIF XD

[lennoxstone]

maggie lindemann & she/her / female ‷ watch out , lennox stone has crash-landed into roswell !! they look twenty-four years old and celebrate their birthday on october 30th . they are from dallas, texas, reside in tripp’s trailer park and are currently working as a photographer. one thing you should know about them is she can be very stubborn and intense. 

tw: death, foster care, mental illness, drugs, child abandonment, neglect, suicide, self harm, blood

Full Name: Eleanor ‘Lennox��� Stone

Age: 24

Birthday: October 30, 1996

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

Pronouns: She/her

Zodiac Sign: Scorpio

Siblings: Two brothers; 12 years old and 1 year old, from the family that wants to adopt her

Mental Illnesses: Bipolar II Disorder

Occupation: Bassist for Graveyard, freelance boudoir photographer

x

Eleanor Stone, who later renamed herself Lennox Stone, was born in Dallas, Texas to a drug addict. She was very clingy with her mother and had intense separation anxiety, likely due to her mother leaving her alone as early as five years old for one, sometimes two nights, in a row. When she was alone, she’d play the little keyboard in her bedroom, familiarizing herself with the notes eventually and teaching herself, later, to play keyboard. Ellie, her mother called her at that age, slept in her bed with her at night, and her mother believed that Ellie played the card really well of being ‘scared’ to do things by herself, when in actuality, Eleanor was scared. Did she sometimes manipulate because of that? Yes. But at her core was deeply ingrained fear that her mother would leave her forever. The only thing she knew about her father was that he was dead. She only found out in her young teenage years that he took his life, and was an alcoholic, after looking him up and meeting up with a living relative. 

One night, Eleanor’s mother had an accidental overdose and showed up with Eleanor at her side at the neighbor’s doorstep. Her mother proceeded to have a seizure right there, with the seven year old girl looking on. The neighbors called an ambulance and they arrived, a social worker meeting them at the hospital. Several calls to CPS had already been made due to strange behavior going on with Eleanor’s mother, and she’d seen people come in and question her mother. Nothing came of it then, but this was the final call. 

She believed for a long time that she was wrongly ripped from her mother at a young age, but it was only later that she came to have feelings of hate for her biological mother. Seven years old and withdrawn, she was mute for a year at her foster home. She said nothing to her foster mom, but would talk at school and to the therapists and to her foster dad. She manipulated him often, and ignored her new mom completely. Truthfully it was too painful to have a new mom. She told the therapist everything was fine. Nonetheless, her foster parents gave her up, and she went on to her second home at eight and a half years old. She stayed with them for three years. At nine, she would cut her wrists just to feel something. Her foster parents believed it was an act of manipulation, but it wasn’t at all. This time, she responded to therapy and stopped cutting her wrists for the most part, though she sometimes does even to this day when things are really bad. At ten, she had night terrors and would wake up screaming horrifically. She had moments where she would stare emptily, or just stop talking mid-sentence, and it scared both of her foster parents. Again, manipulation or acting--’faking’-- was suspected. She was later diagnosed with depression and reactive attachment disorder. 

At eleven, she got into her parents’ liquor cabinet and in a fit of rage smashed all the bottles, cutting her feet accidentally as she tried to leave the kitchen, and her parents found her, horrified, blood and glass all over the floor. She, luckily, didn’t have an infection when they rushed her to the hospital with nasty cuts and open wounds all over her feet and knees. 

She would scream out for her mom at night, and when her foster mom came to her side, Eleanor pushed her aside and screamed in her face. She said, “Fuck you! You aren’t my real mom!” They frequently cried at night, at wits end with this child who they had welcomed in their home who wouldn’t bond with them. They finally came to think that they weren’t suited to be her parents, and it was with a heavy heart that they stopped being her parents and she went on to the next home. 

Eleven and a half, she found a permanent home--well, permanent until she aged out of the foster system at sixteen, and decided instead of staying with them, she’d start her life somewhere else, and picked a random place. While the time lasted, anyway, it was for the first time that Eleanor was able to bond with a foster family. They had a cat that she loved and a baby boy. So, why, did they want her? Well, they told her---because they had lost a child a few years ago, and they felt something when they first saw Eleanor. They felt that they intensely wanted to give her a good home. 

She thrived with them for the first couple of years, getting involved in music, fine tuning her skills on the keyboard, and branching out to other instruments, feeling like she was finally good at something, even had a natural talent for it. 

She began getting into alcohol and smoking marijuana at fourteen. They found it in her room and questioned her about it, not upset at all, very gentle. It was due to their gentle parenting that she decided to quit what she herself even believed was acting out. At least in that way. She still went out at night a lot without telling anybody, just needing to escape. She would mostly walk by herself, but she had one good guy friend, Matthew, who would be awake whenever she called. Eleanor fell in love with him and he fell in love with her. They were together for two years. During that time span she had found out the truth about her father, that he had been an alcoholic and had ended his life. She had enough of Texas. Her parents assured her she had a place with them for as long as and whenever she wanted it, but she left without a proper goodbye. She called them a month later to let them know where she was. She was staying at a friend’s house (someone she’d met and partied with upon landing in Roswell--they knew each other a week before she moved from her motel into their apartment.) She and the other female quickly began a romance, full of drama. She began questioning a lot about herself. Playing around with her identity. Who she was. What she liked. What she believed. But mostly, she was reckless, restless, and impulsive. 

Seventeen, she changed her name unofficially from Eleanor to Lennox, left her girlfriend, and became apart of a group who were forming a band, moving back and forth from place to place. She’d become even more musical, and it had become a discipline for her, even; it was the one thing she felt like she was good at, and she took it seriously. It was and is really the only way she can express herself. And she loves the bass guitar, and can also play drums and piano. She felt like it was a good release for her anger. It was then that she found Cyrus, and the two formed a toxic relationship, almost always fighting. She had genuine feelings for him and probably still does, but the relationship wasn’t healthy in nearly any sort of way, and she didn’t feel she could handle that kind of thing anyway. Even though inside she hated being alone, felt this gaping hole in her heart when she was, that gaping hole didn’t take long--that emptiness didn’t take long--before it swallowed her whole again, even when she was right there in someone’s arms. Maybe the echoes of her childhood catching up with her?

She’s a tortured soul, feels like she’s lived way longer than her twenty-four years, and the “accidental deaths” that happened when the band was hanging around in mosh pits utterly ruined her. She beats herself up for it everyday, even if it couldn’t have been her fault. She still asks herself, is it my fault in someway, indirectly? She misses Cyrus. Now using music to get to him, even going off on her own and creating a hauntingly angry solo song that was leaked accidentally, showcasing her talent in a way that no one had quite seen before--who knew she could sing, or play the piano so well. And just when they’re working on creating their fifth album. But she was always known, even in childhood, to cause problems. And she did so in Graveyard. Frequently. Acting out, not showing up to meetings, or showing up late, or high. Lennox spends a lot of her days doing drugs and drinking alcohol, finds difficulty in getting through most days without them in some form, and she’s definitely rebellious, even aggressive at times. But underneath all of that is a scared inner child that actually feels things very deeply and loves intensely. In the past year she’s gotten into boudoir photography, and has found she’s decently good at it. She’s managed to accumulate clients, enough that she can afford living at the trailer park. Her foster family moved to Roswell a year ago, after their son was born (a happy surprise), after communicating with Lennox through phone calls and webcam for several years. They’ve just asked her if she’d be okay with them adopting her, even though it seems to her that it’s pointless at her age. Her sleep schedule is shit, as she often finds herself wandering around at night, not able to shut off her mind, thinking about running away and starting her life over someplace else. But she never does it. At least, not yet. The urge to run away in every area of her life is always so strong. 

[rejectclone]

Even though I’ve never played Minecraft EVER in my life, since Steve got in smash I tried learning some general stuff about the series on the wiki and apparently there’s no ‘real’ lore to him??? I tried making some headcanons at least since I genuinely like the character potential he has!

* Steve seemed to originate out of virtually nowhere, just being spotted by some villagers one day and he seemed to just set up camp nearby, soon making a small house of his own.

* He is mute, but is still capable of writing in English and communicating with ASL. Unfortunately for him, villagers and other sentient humanoid species do not comprehend his hand gestures, and thinks he’s just messing around with them, much to his dismay.

* As for how he learned how to write and use ASL, he oddly doesn’t seem to remember. He assumes he learned it from his parents, and yet he doesn’t even remember their own faces.

* He claims that he is a orphan, as most of his childhood memories seem to be in a haze, and his stronger memories seem to exist from his mid-teenage years as he was already living off the land on his own.

* He is gifted in both mining and construction, and likes to dabble in alchemy. However he is still a rookie at it, and has accidentally ruined many important items by trying to place enchantments upon them.

* He doesn’t really have that many hobbies, as he’s always focused on maintaining his home, crops, animals, and safety, which is a constant 24/7 endeavor. Later on after exploring more villages and learning new lifestyle related information, he has taken up reading as a small hobby. This is where he first learned of preforming alchemy, as he once thought it was impossible to learn if you weren’t ‘gifted’ with it.

* He has seen his fair share of mobs, but the ones that seem to ALWAYS rock him to his core are oddly enough, the zombies. He claims that every time he even glances at one, he feels extreme discomfort. Perhaps it has to deal with most zombies originating of supposed human origin, and their uncanny valley-ness getting to his mind.

* Zombies honestly may be the closet thing to ‘other human beings’ in the area, as Steve seems to be the odd one out in terms of species. Villagers, Illagers, Endermen, and other sorts are in abundance, but not his own kind. He tries to not let this go to his head, but there has been plenty of nights of him suffering from touch-deficiency and total isolation.

* Even though he may be seen as a outsider to many, nobody can deny how much of a optimist he is. Constantly beaming with joy and always willing to help, he has become well known for being one of the most incredibly helpful people out there.

* However it is quite rare in which he comes off as incredibly stoic and even morose. When like this, the metaphysical aura he gives off is immediately powerful and extremely unsettling, to the point some usually hyper aggressive hostile mobs seem to notice this and actually leave him alone.

* Genuinely did not know WHAT a cake was. Learned about it and tried it for the first time from a farmer villager, and has been completely enamored since. Has developed a bit of a sweet tooth from consuming too much after learning about it, and now tries to eat cake moderately. He also enjoys pumpkin pie, but only during the fall months since it feels ‘more cozy feeling’. Ironically not a huge fan of cookies, and prefers the chocolate in them to be used in cakes.

* His favorite mobs to interact with are most of his own livestock! He owns pigs, cows, sheep, donkeys, and even a rabbit! However, chickens might be his top favorite, and thankfully he doesn’t really eat them and instead just takes advantage of their eggs and how fun and enjoyable it is to maintain them. Later on as he saw parrots for the first time in person, he has been in absolute love with them!

* Even though he does keep and maintain livestock, he is petrified by the concept of keeping a permanent house pet. He has actually tamed some wolves and cats in the past, but has endured too much heartbreak when they are accidentally killed when trying to defend him when undead mobs attack near their home. He always breaks down when burying their remains.

* He does own a horse, but is wary of using it since the last thing he wants to do is accidentally overstrain it and cause it any harm. He still cannot bear to see any more animals under his care go through any pain for him.

* He keeps a small beehive near his house, as he enjoys how their pollination leads to some beautiful flowers sprouting up around his home. He sometimes harvests their honey, but has been stung so many times that he’s not really willing to harvest honeycombs again. It took him quite some time to realize that he needed to use a campfire to calm the bees down, as before he just literally shoved his arm in the hive to get honeycombs.

* He will sometimes try to add new flowers that he discovers from his travels to his home’s makeshift garden, but eventually he really started to put more effort in having a visually pleasing garden and not just having a mess of various plants and flowers.

* Kinda thinks Creepers are cute, but is equally scared of their odd ability to explode violently. He has tried many times to tame them but always inadvertently scares them, soon prompting their unfortunate demise. He still has hope for possibly meeting a non-exploding Creeper one day, but will still keep his distance out of fear.

* He is a good swimmer, capable to dive to considerable depths, but refuses to go down to the deeper parts of the ocean such as the surface floor. Mainly out of concern from accidentally drowning by not being able to make it to the water’s surface in time, and also his distaste for looking at the Drowned as they also give him that ‘off’ feeling.

* He doesn’t mind crafting potions when needed, but feels like most of the time they’re quite unnecessary as they mainly take away the trill and inherent danger of exploring. He will cave in however and will use the Potion of Water Breathing and the Potion of Fire Resistance when he knows he’s heading into some riskier areas.

* As for how Steve met Alex, it was quite sudden actually. He was just out exploring when he saw them hunting in the distance, stalking some Skeletons. He assumed at first it was just some brave Villager, but soon noticed how their physical proportions seem to mirror his. After realizing that they ARE human, he was too shy and terrified to actually go up to them and introduce himself. What if they thought he was a creepy stalker? Or a Pillager?! It seems to be fate however when Alex was soon cornered and he threw himself into the fray to help. After the fight, the two awkwardly interacted, as Alex does speak English but didn’t realize that Steve was mute. Since then the two have interacted more and more, showing to each other their homes and various bases, along with trading goods and their own life stories to pass the time together. He does hold some romantic feelings for Alex, but holds it inside of him as he fears that expressing his love would inadvertently scare them away.

* His body is wracked with scars, all from various accidents and misadventures. Strangely however, he does have some scars that would only be created from fatal wounds, such as a arrow entry-wound scar directly over where his heart should be, or odd deep bite wounds around his neck. Steve always seems to shrug these scars off and claim that they’re usually from falling debris when mining, but it seems unlikely.

* He claims that he tends to suffer from randomly occurring nightmares, all ending in brutal deaths such as being burned alive in lava or being ripped to shreds by zombies. If you were to ask what happened before these events, he will explain that it feels ‘just like any other day’ before the death happens. He is completely oblivious to the fact that after each nightmare, a new scar seems to appear on his body.

* Sometime after Steve ‘moved in’ to the area, there has been some strange rumors of another human, a unusually hostile human..... Some Villagers claim it is a near splitting image of Steve, but they refuse to believe it’s him. After all, why would he become so....... brutal..... The few that managed to observe this human usually claim that his body is usually drenched in his own gore from being mauled, charred beyond belief, riddled with arrows and weapons still lodged in their flesh, or even fully drenched in seawater with them perpetually vomiting it and blood out. Others claim that this human has no pupils or iris, just a unsettling white void that almost appears ethereal-like.

* When addressing Steve about this odd human lurking around in this area, he is actually quite curious yet afraid about it. He met Alex by chance, as they’re more of a free roaming explorer, so perhaps this new human is akin to Alex’s more extreme traveling lifestyle? He does agree however on their reported violent behavior to be..... deeply unsettling....... setting Illagers on fire to only chop up their corpses in the end, disfiguring and torturing Witches with their own potions, purposely corralling Creepers together to cause a horrible chain reaction to occur that deeply scars the ground, drowning Endermen and proceeding to gouge out their eyes after the deed has been done......... certainly dark actions for a twisted individual. Steve thinks they might be observing him, as he has found trails of blood and other various fluids leading up to his house’s door every few days. He can only hope that if they were to meet one fateful day, he would be spared.